#but also i wonder if having them there is providing shade? so i should leave it untill fall? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

petri808 · 2 years ago

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To help with writer's block: #12 Nalu!

I hope it helps cuz I can already see it in my mind!

“You kick a ball and your shoe flies off, hitting them in the back of the head.”

Nalu Week- 7/30/23 Shenanigans @allaboutnalu

Magnolia Park, so called for the large flowering trees that dot its landscape is a favorite place for many residents of the mid-sized college town. Forty acres of grassy knolls and walking trails with park benches along the way, at any given time during daylight you’ll likely run into kids playing, joggers and bikers, and people simply taking in the fresh air. Just like a group of friends who are spread out on a large colorful blanket having a picnic on this sunny Sunday.

It’s just one of those spurs of the moment events when they ran into each other at the local supermarket that morning. They rarely have a day off that coincides, so, Lucy Heartfilia suggests they all have a picnic in the park.

“We were just about to head there, so you guys should join us!” The blonde woman beams.

Natsu Dragneel, Lucy’s boyfriend smiles. “Yeah, unless you’re busy.”

“Nah,” a male named Gray Fullbuster shrugs, “no plans.” His new girlfriend Juvia Loxar nodding in agreement as she hangs onto his arm.

Levy McGarden, another female smiles. “It’s a perfect day to hang out, right?” She turns and looks up to her taller husband Gajeel Redfox who just grunts in return. “We’re down for it.”

They pick a spot under one of the magnolia trees, thankful for the shade it provides. There’s a very light breeze that comes by now and again, but nothing that will send their blanket flying. The combination is enough to keep them cool under the warm late spring afternoon. Each couple has supplied a fair share of offerings, snacks like chips and dip or cookies, some popcorn chicken and rolled sushi from the deli, and half a dozen donuts that Gajeel tries to say are Levy’s, but they all know that’s a lie.

For a couple of hours, the friends chat about everything and nothing, catching up on how each are doing. Levy is four months pregnant, so the girls are happily chittering, asking how things are progressing. Aside from month two’s morning sickness, nothing else has been troublesome. She also relays that they hope to find out the sex in a couple of months, and the names they’ve been tossing around for whether the baby is a boy or girl. They eventually made a deal that if it’s a girl Levy will pick the name, and if a boy Gajeel, and they can’t complain about the choice. This leads into a discussion of what Lucy or Juvia would name any future kids they may have. The guys are discussing an upcoming MMA fight and who they think will win the main event. Well, mostly bickering over which fighter they think is better. It’s just a laid back, vegging kind of day where the biggest excitement is a bee that wouldn’t leave them alone for a time.

Well, that is, until Natsu suddenly grabs everyone’s attention by tapping a key from his keychain loudly on the side of a glass juice bottle. They all stop talking and turn from their conversations to see the man sitting back on his haunches, seiza style with a big smile and the reddest blush alighting his cheeks. “I’ve got an announcement.” He states plainly with a slight cracking in his voice. “Lucy, could you come closer?” He accentuates the request by gesturing to the spot in front of him.

“Okay…” Lucy’s tone drips with hesitant curiosity as she heeds the request. “What is it?”

Natsu then pulls out a single shoe from behind his back. Everyone’s eyes narrow in confusion, head tilting, or brows furrowed wondering what in the world is their friend doing. The shoe is a woman’s flat sandal, light beige with an inch deep cork/leather platform sole bottom and crisscrossed straps running over the top to secure it to the foot. It’s open-toed and an open backed slip-on sandal that Lucy recognizes instantly as her own. He holds it perched on the flat face up open palm of his left hand while cradling the side with his right as if presenting a gift. Which he is.

“Natsu why do you have my shoe?” Lucy queries, but her eyes and focus are on the tiny item tied with a ribbon to the strap. Knowing, yet not knowing exactly what it is.

“Because it’s special,” he grins. “It’s the one you wore the day we met, remember?”

“I remember, but what’s that?” She points towards the strap with a head shaking, smiling laugh. “Please don’t tell me you’re doing what I think you’re doing.”

He nods as he replies. “On a day two years ago, the wearer of this sandal stood above me as stars danced around her head and light haloed like a golden angel from Heaven…”

“Oh my god!” Lucy mutters and palms her face despite the heat flushing her cheeks and brimming smile of embarrassment overwhelms.

His grin widens even more and eyes sparkle in the sunlight as he puts the sandal down and undoes the ribbon holding the ring. “Lucy Heartfilia,” Natsu holds the ring up. “Will you be my star for the rest of our lives?”

Lucy snorts a laugh and pushes him lightly on his shoulder pretending to try and knock him over. “You total weirdo!” But also presents her left hand to him. “Of course, I will!”

After Natsu slips the engagement ring onto Lucy’s finger, he pulls her in for a sweet kiss, cradling her cheek and resting his forehead on hers as she whispers words of love through the embrace. Their bonds strength is one that couples wish for, dream of; a connection where unspoken words are communicated simply with a look in a language only known to them. It’s an endearing scene made all the sappier with the oohs and ahhs of their friends and the wows from the women over the white gold band and 1/8 carat solitaire diamond ring. It isn’t a large or fancy ring, but for Lucy, just the fact it is from Natsu is all that matters.

“But Juvia is still confused,” the woman breaks through the chatter. “Juvia doesn’t understand about the sandal.”

“Oh,” Levy laughs, “it’s about how they met.”

“It was long before we met,” Gray takes over the explanation for his girlfriend. “Lucy’s sandal hit Natsu in the head and knocked him down.” He laughs too. “It was pretty funny at the time ‘cause he had a welt on the back of his head for a week so he couldn’t sleep on it, and the guys at the academy teased him mercilessly for it.”

Juvia turns back to Lucy and Natsu with genuine curiosity in her voice. “How did it happen?”

Even for Lucy this is a memory that she’ll be sure to tell her grandchildren about one day. Of all the ways to meet someone, this is not something anyone would recommend. But it does make the story a whole lot more memorable.

Natsu perks up at Juvia’s question. “Oooh, I’ll tell the story!” He sits cross-legged and leans in with gusto. “Gray and I were jogging through the park that day ‘cause we were in training for the fire departments physical exam…”

In Lucy’s mind a vision of that long ago day floats back into her consciousness as Natsu’s voice slowly fades away and she’s transported back in time. It was sunny and comfortably warm that day in July, not too hot like a typical summer day could get. She’d done an interview earlier that morning for a magazine article she needed to write later, but since the rest of her day was open, Lucy decided to relax in the park. It’s something she often did, taking a new novel to read and finding a bench along the walking paths of Magnolia Park. That day passed along quickly unfettered to Lucy as she lost herself in the fictional story, so by the time a soccer ball rolled up and bumped her foot, she hadn’t realized three hours had already gone by.

She’d put her book down on her lap and looked up at the kid’s voices, calling to Lucy to kick their ball back to them. There was a group of children of various ages between 7 and 14 playing soccer in the adjacent open field approximately 50 feet away. It Was perched on a hill with a slight incline of about ten degrees, but sure, why not? It shouldn’t be too difficult to kick the ball up the hill. So, she stood, lining up the shot so it should go in the correct direction.

And it did! The ball headed straight towards the center of the group.

But Lucy didn’t notice the children’s squeals of joy. She only heard the cry of “Watch out!” by someone nearby. She turned to her right in the direction the male voice had come from and saw a black-haired male standing next to and over another male who’s lying on their back in the grass with their palm pressed against their forehead… and her sandal lying next to his arm. Lucy’s eyes widened in realization.

True, the ball had gone towards the kids, but her shoe flew in another direction striking a hot, pink-haired guy in the back of the head hard enough to knock him down. “Oh, no, I am so sorry!” Lucy rushed over to the two men twenty feet away, dropping to her knees. “Are you hurt?!”

The male rolled over and groaned, his eyes still blocked by his hand. “What’s that thing made of wood? It hurts like hell, but I’ll live.” He moved his hand and looked up towards the female voice, squinting as his eyes readjusted to the sunlight. He blinks a couple times and tips his head slightly. “Did I die and you’re an Angel taking me to heaven?”

“Oh, brother…” The black-haired male rolled his eyes at the lame pick-up line. “Idiot.”

Completely flustered, Lucy’s face turned cherry red. It had been a while since a guy had tried to talk to her, and this one was certainly in the top 5 of hottest guys who’ve hit on her before. “N-No, not an angel,” she stammered, “a journalist.” She reached over and helped him to a sitting position. “Maybe I should grab some ice,” she suggested when noticing the angry bump developing on the back of the man’s head.

The man shook his head no. “What you can do is tell me your name.”

“Lucy.” She responded. “And you are?”

“Nice to me you Lucy,” he held out his hand, “I’m Natsu…”

The memory of him flashing his pearly white smile that sent a shiver through her soul, fades away back to the present, and being surrounded once again by their best friends. If someone had asked her if two years later, she’d be back in the same park being proposed to with the same shoe by the guy who’d been hit by said shoe in the head Lucy would’ve said they were in a fairytale. Well, and here she is. She smiles as Natsu reaches the end of the story.

“And that’s when I asked for her number, and we’ve been together ever since.” Natsu proudly proclaims.

“Juvia thinks that’s such a sweet story!”

Levy chuckles. “I remember when she called me that night to tell me about Natsu. She couldn’t stop talking about how hot he was.”

“Hey!”

Lucy squeals and dives to cover Levy’s mouth, but Levy ducks and continues. “She was known for her soccer kick in high school,” she laughs, “but never would’ve guessed she’d catch a guy with it!”

“Ha Ha,” Lucy rolls her eyes feigning that she’s not embarrassed despite the blush in her cheeks. “It’s not like I was trying to, but at least it’ll be a funny story to tell the kids one day.”

Natsu suddenly perks up in confused excitement. Did he hear what he thinks he heard? “Huh, kids?!”

#naluweek2023 #nalu #nalu fan fiction #fairytail

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talldarkandroguesome · 2 years ago

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18th of Midyear, Sundas

As expected, Tharn did not treat me as though any of the evening had happened at all. He treated me the same as always, like a tool for his use and pleasure. He was not entirely wrong and I did not wish to bring anything up about things. The moment had been a private one between us and that he had allowed it, in a state of silence and acceptance was something that was for us and us alone.

He was a bit less harsh in his criticisms. Perhaps it was the nerves of upcoming battle. Perhaps something in last night touched a part of him he was not expecting. In the meanwhile I shall not give too much thought to it. There is so much else to be done.

Tharn and The Speaker were just sitting down to go over the strategy of defense when I arrived after breakfast. They informed me that the Adepts had arrived just hours earlier and were already setting up defenses with Khamira. That I should also report to her, since she was in charge of the main city defenses. It seems like The Speaker and Tharn were working on some other strategies, whether it was retreat options, reinforcements, or some other option.

It was clear from his words that The Speaker had great confidence in Khamira’s abilities as a strategist, but he seemed to see her connection to the city and its people as providing her a particular edge in leadership. I admitted, the morale would certainly be higher with her leading the city if that was true, and with the odds not exactly in our favor, we would likely need it.

I got Nettle and the others and told them of our assignment and we headed off.

I found Khamira on the edge of town speaking with one of the merchants and offering compensation for his cart to build the barricades. It seems that no resource would be spared in defending the city.

When she saw me, Khamira’s tail raised in recognition. She approached and we discussed briefly her work on the defenses and plans. She was grateful for the Adepts and even Sir Cadwell, as odd as she found him. I assured her that was a normal reaction to him.

She sighed, the weight of it all heavy upon her shoulders as she admitted that she did not have enough hands to do all she sought and wondered if I might help. I cut her off and agreed even before she had finished.

She smiled at me and said that she needed someone to collect the farmers outside the city walls and to bring them in to safety before the soldiers arrived. I gave her a nod and as soon as she pointed the way to Tsazii’s farm, I headed on my way, leaving Nettle and my guard to help with the town’s defenses. I know Nettle was not pleased, but I think he knew that my safety and the House’s interests were best served in this decision. Plus, where would I go?

Zamarak met me as I was heading out of town and offered to join me. Apparently he knew the family that ran the farm and wished to repay a kindness given to him. He thought having a friendly face might also help to convince them to leave their lands, as suspicious as all in the area had become of outsiders.

I agreed and we headed off. Zamarak and I spoke of many things as he led me to the shortcut out of the back gate of the city. I was glad to see there was at least better fortifications at the rear of the city as we headed out to the farmland. Zamarak mentioned that he had been in exile at a point. That he did not wish to use his marital talents, but rather his healing skills if possible. I accepted that, knowing that he must have inadvertently hurt someone important to him given all the clues he offered.

We had not gone far when we ran into Euraxia’s forces. They were swarming the fields. Zamarak was astonished, the reports had all said that the Euraxians were seen coming from east and south, but here they were to the northwest. Somehow they had managed to surround the town. No wonder they had not attacked before our arrival, they were getting into position in a way to route us completely!

I made ample use of my shades in order to isolate and slay as many as I could.

Zamarak used whatever ancient spells he had to imbue me with speed and strength. I soon found myself cutting down soldiers like a frenzied wamasu. It was incredible. It was exhilarating. And when I took blows I could not avoid at speed, a golden healing light was set upon me.

I do not know what they teach at the Desert Winds Adeptorium, but what power those adepts wield! We easily cleared a path to the farmhouse and surrounds, such that we would not be seen by any.

We slipped inside and were met with a woman, blade in hand, threatening to murder us. She stopped as soon as she saw Zamarak’s face. She asked what we were doing. We told her and her family, who slowly came out of their hiding places, that we were taking them to the shelter of the city.

Tsazii explained that they were safe there. The Euraxians seemed to be searching for something and had left her and her family alone so far, concentrating only on the fields. She was worried, however, about her mate and brother who were still out in the fields somewhere and said she would not leave without them. Naturally Zamarak and I offered to find them.

We fought our way to the cave that Tsazii had mentioned since we had not yet found any sign of her brother and we knew time was of the essence. At least we could find her mate.

As we traveled across the edge of the fields and into the scrub, Zamarak showed the way to the cave, which he knew from his time with the family. We spotted two Khajiit, one standing, head in his hands, another sprawled in the sand, unmoving.

Kinaro turned out to be Tsazii’s mate and we learned from him that when the Euraxians had threatened the pair, Hursh, Tsazii’s brother had thrown a rock. He was shot with an arrow. It was a sad story indeed. And you could see the pain in Kinaro’s eyes and he tried to figure out how he would break the news to his family.

Zamarak said he would give final rights and take care of Hursh’s body, but that Kinaro needed to get his family to the safety of the city. Zamarak would not explain exactly, but he clearly felt like whatever misdeed held heavy upon his conscious had led to this.

I escorted Kinaro back to the farm house and watched as the initial gladness for his safe return was shattered by the loss of a beloved member of the family. There was anger and sorrow all twisted into one and I could not comprehend most of it, given it was in Ta’agra with voices tinged with grief.

All I could manage, was to convince them not to stay and try to seek vengence for their loss. I told them that we would ensure that it happened. And their lands would be restored.

Khamira showed up with a task for me as I was helping the family gather items. Scouts had found the location of supply camps for the Euraxians in the north and south of Riverhold, tucked away behind natural rock formations. She showed me on the map and asked that I cut loose their horses and set fire to the camp. That Captain Nala-Do would take the flames as her sign to rush in and seize supplies for the city with her troops.

I told her that it was not be a problem. Finally, a chance to release some of my feelings of being forced into things I did not choose and my anger at the horrible treatment of the Khajiit by the Euraxians. All my hatred for everything was going to come out.

I headed out immediately and went to the closest camp first, the northern supply camp. It was supper time and everyone was gathered to work on their meal. I easily took out the single guard on watch. Then I snuck around to where they stabled their horses and cut the ropes, slowly leading each one off to the side. They stayed, calmly nibbling the scrub grass. Once I had them all gathered. I ran a half circle of fire in the direction of the camp and the horse bolted.

The fire followed the shape I made, obscuring my form as I made it raise high. I forced the flames to push forward towards the camp as I heard the soldiers scrambling to try and get water from the lake nearby. I went for the tents first. No shelter would work in our favor.

I encircled the camp entirely in flames, making them climb high on the side where the water would be coming. I could hear the hiss as buckets of water made their attempts, but I forced the fire back.

Then I opened up the other side of the camp so that Nala-Do and her forces could come and steal back supplies. They dashed in, their eyes darting wilding between the flames, the supplies, and me.

Once they were safely out, I turned the flames in another direction. I was drinking all the magicka potions I had, but I used them because I wanted to make the Euraxians fear. To know what it felt like to be terrorized by things so great they felt like ants.

I encircled them and stood before them with my shades. I reveled in their screams, their begging for mercy, knowing that they had done the same to those they had attacked. I realized myself and brought the circle of fire crashing down like a wave atop them. I let go of my control on the flames as the soldiers rolled around, trying to put themselves out. Some simply fell and did not move. One made it to the water, but the shock of the water seemed to set their pain a new.

I slipped away as the sounds quieted behind me.

I made it to the southern camp by dusk. I am making potions for the next assault. A similar strategy does not seem best, after all. Under the cover of darkness, I should have no problems with picking them all off.

#ESO #TES #RP #Dunmer #Elder Scrolls Online #The Elder Scrolls

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taimio · 1 year ago

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Unveiling the Breathtaking Beauty of Mediterranean Gardens: Explore Southern Europe's Flourishing Plant Species!

Dreaming of a lush, vibrant garden that flourishes with minimal effort? Turn your dream into a reality by incorporating Southern European plants into your outdoor space. By exploring the rich flora native to Southern Europe, you can create your own Mediterranean garden in no time. This carefully curated guide, "Creating a Mediterranean Garden: Top Plants That Thrive in Southern Europe," is your pathway to a garden blooming with diversity, color, and grace. We delve into the unique characteristics of various plants native to Southern Europe and how you can integrate their beauty into your garden. Let's take a journey through the warm, welcoming climates of Mediterranean countries and bring a little bit of their spirited greenery to your backyard. So, if you're ready to transform your garden into a botanical wonder, keep reading and let's embark on this green-fingered venture together.

Creating A Mediterranean Garden: Top Plants That Thrive In Southern Europe

I've always been captivated by the lush beauty of a Mediterranean garden. The vibrant colors, aromatic scents, and tranquil ambiance have a way of transporting me to the sun-drenched shores of Southern Europe. In my quest to recreate this enchanting oasis in my own backyard, I've discovered a diverse array of plants that not only survive but thrive in the Mediterranean climate.

First on my list is the Bougainvillea, a flamboyant climber that adds a splash of vivid color to any garden. Its vibrant bracts, ranging from deep magenta to sunny yellow, create an impressive display against the backdrop of azure skies. Just be prepared for its formidable thorns, which seem determined to protect its exuberant beauty.

Next, we have the Olive Tree, an elegant symbol of the Mediterranean. Its gnarled trunk and silvery foliage exude a timeless charm, making it a focal point in any garden. Not only does it provide shade and a touch of Mediterranean elegance, but it also gifts us with the precious olive fruits that have been cherished for centuries.

No Mediterranean garden would be complete without the Lavender. Its fragrant purple flowers evoke images of rolling hills in Provence, instantly transporting you to a state of tranquility. The aroma of lavender not only delights the senses but also attracts a myriad of beneficial insects, creating a harmonious ecosystem in your garden.

For a touch of whimsy, Bougainvillea and Jasmine can grow together, intertwining their branches, and creating a stunning floral tapestry. The jasmine's delicate white flowers release an intoxicating fragrance in the evening, perfuming the air and enchanting all who pass by. It's a sensory experience that no Mediterranean garden should be without.

I am constantly amazed by how these resilient plants not only survive but thrive in the harsh conditions of Southern Europe.

If you're looking to add some height and drama to your garden, the Italian Cypress is an excellent choice. Its tall, slender silhouette brings a touch of elegance and sophistication, reminiscent of the Tuscan countryside. Plant them in a row to create a natural screen or use them to frame a pathway for a dramatic effect.

Lastly, we have the Rosemary, a staple in Mediterranean cuisine and a versatile herb with a delightful fragrance. Its needle-like leaves and delicate blue flowers add texture and charm to any garden. Not only is it a culinary delight, but it also has medicinal properties and is believed to enhance memory and concentration.

Creating a Mediterranean garden is a labor of love, but the rewards are immeasurable. The vibrant colors, intoxicating scents, and serene ambiance transport you to a world of sun-kissed bliss. So, roll up your sleeves, get your hands dirty, and let nature guide you on a journey to Southern Europe, right in your own backyard.

For a more in-depth guide on creating your own Mediterranean garden, check out the related article Creating Your Own Mediterranean Paradise: A Guide to Southern European Plants. Happy gardening!

Learn more about gardening with Taim.io!

#Southern European Plants

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devildomditzy · 2 years ago

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I probably should've just made that the request.... mammon + 🥺💛

+ "are you afraid of dying?"

You ask him one day while you’re both lying down right on the outskirts of the courtyard. There’s a spot between two grand cypress trees that provides the best shade, and for you two, the best hide out.

You don’t move your head from its position, eyes boring straight up into the sky above you. You ask such a terrible question, so easily. Like it was nothing, like you weren’t human.

“Are you afraid to die?”

Mammon shoots his head to the side to stare at you in shock. He startles, moving his hands from his resting position behind his head to turn his body and look at you. As he does, his glasses fall from their position atop his head, where they pushed back his snowy white bangs, and clatter to the ground behind him. He pays them no mind, too focused on the words that just slipped so recklessly out of your mouth.

“What kinda question is that? Did ya forget I’m a demon already?”

You laugh, almost to yourself, as you continue watching the clouds float by.

“How could I forget? But you’re a demon, not immortal. So, you know, someday…”

He puffs out his chest in a feign of bravery, but inside he’s shaking. What the hell brought on this form of questioning from you?

“The Great Mammon will never die! Not if I have anythin’ to say about it, that is.”

The second sentence is said significantly quieter than the first, you note.

“Mm”, a small noise finds it’s way out of your mouth.

It’s still for a moment, the two of you returning to comfortable silence. You reach out a hand towards the sky, opening and closing your fingers as if trying to grasp the clouds.

He watches you now, so fascinated. How could such a fragile, innocent creature like yourself seem so nonchalant about an idea like that. His chest continues to buzz.

“Whadda ya thinkin’ askin’ a dumb question like that? It’ll be a long time comin’ before I gotta think about that kind of stuff, unlike-”

He cuts himself off, not wanting to go there. Not for a second did he want to think about the inevitable. About the life span of humans. About you.

He doesn’t even need to state the question back to you, as you begin to answer yourself. All words he didn’t want to hear.

“I don’t think I am.”

He doesn’t know how to respond, so he waits for you to continue.

“I mean I kinda already did right?”, you give a breathy chuckle. It steals the air out of his lungs, but also lights a fierce anxiety in his heart.

He says the only thing he can think to say, because it’s the only thing that runs through his mind when he thinks about that day.

“I’m sorry. I shoulda been there. I shoulda never let ya go off by yourself, I should been able to-”

“Shh.”

You quiet him before the tears can begin to fall from his eyes, as they do often do at the mention of that situation; at the mention of Belphegor; at the mention of losing you.

You turn to face him now, a the outstretched hand now claiming a spot in his cheek, wiping at the corners of his eyes.

“You know it isn’t your fault,” you say with a gentle smile of your face. And he wonders how? How are you able to talk about it so freely? How are you able to comfort him when this fear bubbles up? How could a demon like him end up with someone like you?

He can’t stop his arms as they move faster than his mind can keep up, bringing you into his chest, nuzzling his face into your hair, kissing the crown of your forehead.

“I don’t think I’m afraid to die”, you repeat. He wishes you’d stop. But he doesn’t expect the next words out of your mouth. “I don’t think I’m afraid of much of anything anymore, because I have you, Mams.”

He pulls his head back to look at your beautiful face, his eyes wide is astonishment. You simply stare back with the same soft gaze you’ve carried the whole time.

“Thank you.”

The words leaving your mouth sound so genuine, so pure, that he almost struggles to comprehend them. He’s positive his blush is giving way to his emotions, but he can’t seem to bring himself to care, he can’t seem to bring himself to deflect. All he can do is stare at you in amazement.

And now he’s holding you tighter than ever, like if he lets go he’ll lose you for real this time. Like if he lets go, you’ll have never even existed at all.

It’s hushed, almost so low you don’t hear it. Whispered with so much emotion behind it, emotion that you know is hard for him to express properly.

“I love ya.”

You give a small hum, nestling yourself even further into his grip, like if you don’t get close enough, this will all just have been a dream. Like you never would have met the man in front of you.

“I love you too, Mammon.”

#kit’s playhouse #obey me #mammon #obey me shall we date #om #omswd #obey me mammon #obey me headcannons #obey me mc #mammon headcannons #mammon x mc #mammon drabbles #mammon x reader #mammon x y/n #om mammon #om mc #omswd mammon #omswd mc #dddroadto2kevent

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therealvalkyrie · 4 years ago

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exactly the spring

Pairing/setting: Ushijima Wakatoshi x Fem!Reader, college!AU

Summary: Reserved biology student Ushijima finds himself falling in love when you, an adorably disorganized art student, wander into the greenhouse.

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: fluff, kissing

AN: Hi!! So, the inspiration for this one sprang from the beautiful, sexi brain of Emme ( @doinmybesthere ) way back in MARCH ahem anyway, it's done! I hope it's just as soft and intimate as you envisioned<33 Also, big shoutout to my beautiful friends Arobi ( @daqueenobooty ) and Cee ( @spacelabrathor ) for being wonderful betas and giving me such kind comments:) I hope you enjoy, and as always don't be shy about leaving comments or coming to chat! Be kind to yourselves and others. ~valkyrie

p.s. check out this amazing art that @/54prowl made of plant boy ushi!! :D

Plants don’t talk back, Ushijima learned as a toddler. He’d babble to them in nonsensical phrases as his mother worked in the garden, and they’d only sway in the wind and listen, waxy under his chubby fingers.

A volleyball doesn’t talk back, either, not even through its bounces and echoes on hands and hard surfaces. It doesn’t listen as easily as plants, but can be herded and shaped like putty into a winning thing if you touch it right. This, Ushijima learned at his father’s hand and carried with him through childhood and adolescence.

The joy and puzzlement of you is that you do both. You listen so intently and openly with your steady eyes and soft body as the words pour out of him. And then, you reply. With your clear voice and new perspective, you offer something new. You offer companionship.

It was the second week of spring semester that you wandered into the greenhouse, eyes lit by the sun and sketchbook under one arm. Ushijima was repotting a large fern, dirt up to his elbows as he kneeled on the floor. He barely gave you a second glance, preoccupied with nestling the plant’s root system comfortably.

You settled a short distance away, crossing your legs to sit on the tile floor in front of an orange tree to sketch its still-closed flower buds with charcoal pencils. He kept working as you did, the sun sliding across glass, shadows shifting into the early evening of winter. When the sun was threatening to set over the city skyline — even with the greenhouse where it sits on the roof of the biology building — he turned to tell you he was closing up, only to find you gone. In your place, sitting on the wooden table that held newly planted basil and sage, was a drawing.

It was a single branch, detailed in shades of charcoal down to the last dewdrop. At the bottom, looping handwriting scrawled, “thank you for the peace.”

That night, he tacked it up above his desk in his dorm next to the postcard from Tendō and hoped you’d come back.

And you do, a couple of days later, on a Saturday. He looks up from where he’s filling in the logbook, this time, catching your gaze and holding it for a moment before you break away to survey the room. Today, he thinks you looked breathtaking. You’re wearing a long, flowing skirt and a sweater that makes him want to feel how soft it is, and how soft you are in it, and by the time his brain catches up with his thoughts, he’s been staring too long and your eyes have wandered back to him. It’s raining, today — it never really snows in this city, he’s learned — and shadowy droplets play across your face as they drip down the greenhouse’s arched glass ceiling, highlighting the curve of your cheekbone and making your eyes glow softly.

He clears his throat and looks back to the thick spiral-bound book on the table before him. Sometimes, when he meets people for the first time, he knows he can come across as intimidating. That worked out for him in high school and on the volleyball court, but in his adulthood, it’s been more of a hindrance than a help. It makes it… difficult to make friends here, where he doesn’t already know anyone.

And the last thing he wants is to scare you away. The last thing he wants is to break the peace you’ve apparently found here.

Which is why he barely dares to breathe when he looks up to find you approaching him where he’s perched on a sturdy wooden stool.

“Hi,” you smile and lilt, and god if it isn’t the most beautiful word Ushijima’s ever heard, if it isn’t the prettiest smile he’s seen.

He doesn’t respond, doesn’t want to scare you away.

“Uhm,” you start again, when the silence makes it clear he’s waiting for you to speak, “I have an art assignment,” you start digging around in your shoulder bag as you speak, “to draw a, um, what’s it called?”

“I don’t know.”

You pause in your rifling and pin him with such a sunny smile it makes his knee start bouncing. And you laugh, too, which officially replaces your “hi” as the most beautiful sound in the world.

“Ha, you’re funny,” you resume digging, “it was um, pretty leafy and... tropical, I think? Oh! Here.” Triumphantly, you produce a wrinkled paper from your bag. It’s the first imperfect thing Ushijima’s found out about you, that you’re shit at keeping your belongings organized, and he files it away for later reference. You hold the paper in front of your face and squint slightly to read in the shifting light. “Canna indica.”

Canna indica, native to tropical climates, notable as a minor food crop for South American Native populations for thousands of years.

“And I was told that you have it, here, in the greenhouse.”

Ushijima nods and finds himself relieved that this is what you’re asking him. Plants, he can do.

“We do. Would you like me to show you?”

“Yes, please,” you also sound relieved, like he’s provided the solution to every problem you’ve ever had.

He unfolds himself from the stool, setting down his pen as he goes. You take a step back and look up at him mildly, as though you hadn’t realized quite how huge he is.

“This way,” he indicates, leading you deeper into the maze that is the biology department’s greenhouse. The winding path back to the tropical room gives him a moment to sink back into the earthy peace of being here, even if now there’s someone sharing that peace.

The temperature change from the warm main greenhouse to the balmy tropical room prompts Ushijima to shed his flannel outer layer, hanging it on the nail hammered by the door while you step in behind him.

“Whew,” you exhale, shrugging off your soft cardigan as well, “it’s hot in here.”

Ushijima hums in agreement and tries not to look too hard at the patch of skin revealed by your cropped tank top. Canna indica isn’t too far into the room, so he just gently moves past draping leaves and ceramic pots.

“Here,” he stops, holding back leaves for you. He stops breathing again when you duck under his arm and end up so close in the narrow aisle that he can smell your shampoo. The moment passes, and he can breathe again when you breeze past him and squat down to peer at the bright, waxy red leaves of your subject.

“Beautiful,” you murmur, and he silently agrees.

You’re leaning so close to the plant he’s afraid you might topple over when you make a noise of realization and sit back on your butt to rifle through your bag once again. Ushijima knows he should probably leave you to it, but he’s glad he waited just an extra minute when you pull out a pair of glasses and pop them on your face. Adorably.

“That’s better.” You’re looking back at canna indica, now, at a normal distance.

He’s figured you’ve forgotten he’s there when you start to pull out pastels from your seemingly bottomless bag, so he turns to leave you.

A soft, “hey,” calls him back to you, however, and he’s met by your face glowing eerily in the shifting rain-light. “Thank you for your help.”

“You’re welcome.”

When he locks up that afternoon, he finds another charcoal drawing waiting for him on the table near the door, this time of his favorite agapanthus africanus. No note, this time, but he attaches all the sounds he heard from you today in its place. He also finds your cardigan forgotten next to where you were sitting and carefully folds it for when you come back.

The drawing joins the orange branch on his wall-- an odd starter garden, he thinks, but all the more precious because it came from you.

The next time he sees you isn’t in the greenhouse, but instead at a cafe a couple of blocks away, two weeks later. He’s walking past, gym bag slung over his shoulder, when he hears your laugh ring out across the outdoor seating area. His eyes find you, head tipped back in sending peals of mirth into the lively spring air. It’s the first truly warm day of the season, though you and your companion are the only patrons sitting outside, and the sun catches on your glasses sat atop your head.

Your friend says something apparently hilarious, because your giggles redouble, and an honest-to-god snort pushes out of your nose. Ushijima catalogues it in his ever-growing list of sounds you make, and pauses at the crosswalk, halfway turned back to keep one eye on you and one on the light. If you were alone, he might’ve approached you and told you that he still has your sweater in the greenhouse, waiting on a shelf between succulents, but he doesn’t want to interrupt your— date?

He isn’t sure, but the person sat there with you seems like someone you might date. Clearly also an art student, judging by the carefully disheveled blue hair and combat boots. Are you the type to date someone with blue hair? Unlikely, he decides. You seem too… bright. Too floaty to be so concerned with looking like you don’t care how you look.

Ushijima’s still debating whether you find blue hair attractive when the crosswalk light begins its countdown and he starts across the street. And he almost makes it all the way across, too, when a voice calls—

“Wait! Hey!”

He turns partially because it sounds urgent enough that it might be an emergency, and his grandmother would roll in her grave if he remained a bystander to some horrific accident. But it’s you, standing up from your seat and waving him back over. He glances at the crosswalk countdown, which lights up red as it ticks from four to three, then turns and jogs back towards you, waving a hand apologetically to the cars waiting at the light. You meet him at the metal fence around the cafe seating area, and now that you’re standing, he can see you’re wearing a yellow sundress that cuts off at your calves and drapes over your hips like the fabric was spun from pure light.

“Hello.” Ushijima talks first this time because if he doesn’t refocus his brain on something else he knows he won’t be able to stop staring.

“Hi! Sorry about that, uh, and I’m sure you have places to be, but, um, did I leave my cardigan at the greenhouse? I can’t find it, and I know I have a tendency to forget things, so,” you finish with a laugh, one hand fiddling with the rings on the other.

“Yes, you did. I put it on a shelf in case you came back.”

“Oh! That’s great!” You sound relieved, and Ushijima’s suddenly very grateful he didn’t take it down to the bio department’s lost and found like they’re technically supposed to. “Is there maybe a time I can come pick it up? When you’ll be there?”

“I’ll be there all day tomorrow, opening at nine.”

He can’t tell if he sounds a little too eager, and he’s about to soften his meaning by telling you that they’re open today, too, and anyone can hand you a sweater, but you’re already smiling big and sunny and telling him,

“I’ll see you at nine, then. Do you drink coffee?”

He doesn’t; his coaches have always told him that caffeine can only harm his athletic performance.

“Yes, I do.”

“Then I’ll see you at nine, with coffee.”

Ushijima says goodbye and turns to wait at the crosswalk again while you swirl your way back to your seat and pick up your conversation with your friend. He can feel two pairs of eyes on him as he crosses the street, red numbers blinking down from ten, and can’t help but turn to look back as he steps onto the opposite sidewalk. Where your friend tactfully looks down into their cup of tea, you catch his eye with yours and wave. He lifts his hand halfway in a goodbye before an eighteen-wheeler stops at the intersection and blocks you from him.

Ushijima’s normal work attire is typical of an average agricultural biology student accustomed to being up to their elbows in dirt every day: practical cargo shorts, dirt-stained but sturdy sneakers, a “plant dad” t-shirt (a gift from Tendō when they’d said their goodbyes and gone away to college), and a soft cotton flannel. He’s usually satisfied with this for his shift at the greenhouse, expecting to be mud-covered at least up to his wrists by the end of the day.

But today… Today, he pauses in the dorm bathroom to scrub his face raw, and he clips and shapes his nails like his mother used to do for him every Saturday. He normally only does it before tournaments, now, and it calms his nerves to feel prepared for a Big Event, even if that event is only handing you your gently pilled cashmere cardigan and receiving a coffee he won’t drink in return.

The air that morning is heady with spring, earthy and alive, reminding Ushijima of lying beneath the hedge along his mother’s garden to pass notes to the girl next door. He was seven and she was nine, so naturally she knew everything he didn’t. She knew about the planets and why worms live in dirt and how to spell the word “catastrophe,” and Ushijima would’ve bet his whole weekly allowance that she was the coolest person in the world, if he knew what betting was. (She did, and once bet him half an ice cream sandwich that he couldn’t climb the oak tree in his backyard all the way to the top. He did, and then twisted his ankle on the way down, and she brought him an ice cream sandwich every day for a week as an apology.) She was all shiny, long black hair and dark eyes and fast words, nothing like the spring blooming around him.

You, on the other hand, are exactly the spring.

He stops at his favorite pastry place on the way to work to pick up two fresh cream donuts. The line is just dwindling from the height of the morning rush, so he manages to make it to the biology building just five minutes before he normally does.

Morning sun sends rainbows through the automatic misting spray as Ushijima unlocks the greenhouse door, letting a burst of humidity out into the rest of the building. The spiral-bound log book is there on the desk, a thick parchment bookmark sticking out from where whoever closed last night marked the page.

Ushijima places his backpack and pastry bag on the desk and reaches to hang his key on its hook just when there’s a knock on the door.

“I know I’m early,” you start, edging your way into the room with a paper coffee cup in each hand. “But I saw it was already open, so...”

Ushijima smiles despite himself. In their second year Oikawa Tooru had told him that his smiles can be unnerving, but he can’t help it right now. You look so lovely today, in jeans and a silky tank top, with a certain morning tenderness in the way you hold yourself.

“It’s okay, come in. I just need to check the temperature controls and I’ll be done opening.”

“Sounds good,” you reply, smiling back.

As he makes his way to the temp controls on the Southern wall, you perch on the wooden stool and set down the coffee.

With his back turned to you for a moment, you allow yourself to slouch, planting two hands on the table and stretching your shoulders with a sigh. It’s earlier than you normally get out of bed, let alone actually leave your apartment, and you can already feel a quiet exhaustion setting into your bones.

But this is worth it, you remind yourself. Worth it to talk to the beautiful boy with broad shoulders and gentle hands.

He’d been unexpected. That first day in the greenhouse, you’d sat down with the intention to calm down from a tedious school day and nothing more. Your hands had moved of their own volition on that second drawing of the orange branch, scribbling out a hasty message that made your cheeks burn. But he was so present that day, in the corner of your eye but staying respectfully out of your space. And you’re not blind -- you saw the muscles under his shirt as he lifted an entire small tree in its pot. You saw the startling shade of green his eyes took on in the sun. You saw it all, and it drew you back, and now you’re here.

When he joins you back at the table, leaning back against it to face you, you stick out your hand and offer your name.

He looks at it for a moment, then back at you.

“I just, uh, realized we never properly introduced ourselves,” you explain, with a hesitant smile.

He smiles again and your heart thuds, then his big hand engulfs yours and he shakes it firmly.

“Wakatoshi. It’s nice to meet you.”

You learn in the following weeks of coming to the greenhouse that Wakatoshi doesn’t like coffee. But he does like tea and donuts, so that’s what you bring him on the mornings you can find it in you to wake up before nine. You sit with him in the greenhouse, talking and listening as he records data and waters plants and sits next to you on the quilt you’ve fallen into the habit of bringing. The occasional professor or student comes through, and you get to watch Wakatoshi show off his brains when he leaves you to help them.

There are several things you learn about him over those weeks. Number one: he never minces words. Two: he prefers grapefruit chapstick over anything else. And three: he kisses like it’s his last day on Earth.

You discover number three late one night when you decide to drop by after class, shooting him a text to make sure he’s still there. Today he’s closing instead of opening, and you missed spending your morning with him.

The city lights cast a different kind of glow at this time of night. They add a distance to everything that’s palpable as you drop your bag by the door.

“Toshi, are you here-- oh, hi.” You turn the corner to find him closing the door to the supply closet.

His cheekbones are highlighted briefly by a billboard outside flashing red.

“You should get some sleep.”

“I’m not tired. And I wanted to see you.”

“You wanted to see me?”

He takes a step towards you and you have to tilt your head back slightly to keep your eyes on his. They’re leaf green and unreadable.

“Yeah, uh,” you wet your lips with your tongue, “is that okay?”

“Yes.” He pauses for a long time, then, watching you carefully in the neon glow of the exit sign. His hand shakes as it reaches up to push your glasses from your face onto your head.

Without them, he looks fuzzy and soft around the edges.

He says, “Can I kiss you?” and it feels like there’s a bird trapped in your ribcage.

“Yes. Kiss me.”

Wakatoshi kisses nothing like you expected, all tongues and teeth and heavy fingers in the dip of your waist. He growls when you gasp and mewl against him, sucking on your lower lip as your hands find purchase in his shirt. He kisses you so absolutely breathless that you think you might pass out. Your knees buckle and you pull away, gasping with your eyes closed for a moment until you come back to yourself.

“Are you alright, little one?”

The endearment makes your cheeks flush with heat and your eyes snap open.

“Yes, I’m alright. Please do it again.”

And so he does it again, and again, and again until you find yourself bringing him home with you on the last bus that goes towards your neighborhood. He’s standing in the aisle, one hand wrapped around a pole and the other wound around you, who’s standing in front of him. He keeps you steady as the bus rounds a corner.

That night, you bring the peace of the greenhouse into your home, and the only thing you find yourself wishing for is that it never leaves.

#ushijima wakatoshi x reader #ushijima x reader #ushijima x fem!reader #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu!! fanfic #hq fanfic #valkyrie writes #exactly the spring #haikyuu fluff #ushijima fluff #don't look at me i'm posting this early bc i'm IMPATIENT #*sobs*

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danses-with-dogmeat · 4 years ago

Text

Male!Companions react to waking up alone after spending the night with Sole.

Hey all! So, just a heads up, I’m also working on this prompt for the Female!Companions for FO4, and also a bunch of companions from FONV and FO3, but if you have any specific requests or want me to add anyone, just let me know! Sorry this is so damn long, but I hope you all enjoy!

Also, there is a bit of angst in here with some mentions of suicidal thoughts, so just a heads up on that!

P.S. If you’re one of the lovely folks who has sent me an ask, I am currently working on writing them up and I will definitely get them out as soon as I can, I just really like the prompts y’all gave me and I want to do them justice :)

Danse:

Danse sat up with a start, immediately trying to gain his bearings, only to find himself still in the bunker, in his own bed. He let out a shaky breath, still dazed from the heavy sleep that had claimed him. It had been years since he'd slept like that, the last time he recalled sleeping so peacefully was when he was stationed at the Citadel in the Capital Wasteland. Even more than that, he had barely slept at all since discovering his true identity. Danse shook his head, trying to clear it of its sleepy fog, he went to rub his eyes, and he felt his heartbeat increase tenfold as the memories of his night with you came flooding to the forefront of his mind. Even now he felt the heat of a blush rushing to his cheeks. He turned his head, expecting to see your peacefully sleeping form on the mattress beside him. When he didn't, he wasn't sure what to do. Immediately, a slew of emotions and thoughts ran through him, ranging from shame, to panic, to anger, and most of all, hurt. Before he allowed himself to arrive at any premature conclusions, Danse called out for you, looking around the room. Nothing. He stood up, holding the blankets around his waist to conceal himself as he made his way to the hole in the wall that allowed him to peer into the other section of the bunker. Still nothing. The slew of contradicting emotions bubbled up again, leaving him feeling slightly numb. He stood there, just staring, trying to grasp a hold of any clear thought, but they were inadvertently tumbling into his consciousness at an alarming rate.

All at once, one feeling prevailed over the others, and Danse found himself feeling extraordinarily guilty. Guilty for agreeing to last night, for jeopardizing his friendship with the one person he had left in his life by greedily pushing too far. What right did he have to you and your feelings anyway, when his weren't even real? The pain of being deserted by you was overshadowed by the knowledge that he didn't deserve you in the first place. Even when he thought he was human, he had trouble rationalizing his feelings for you, thinking you deserved better than someone like him. Someone as hard headed, as inexperienced, and emotionally ignorant as he was. But now? Now, he wondered why you even bothered to waste any of your time on him, even just as his partner, when it was proven that he's nothing but a machine. Why had you even suggested last night, when you knew the truth about him?

He simply couldn’t understand it. Why had you allowed him to be with you in such a way? To be with you so intimately? Why had you allowed him to touch you so invasively? Why had you spoken to him so softly, so earnestly? How could your gaze have been so full of admiration, of love? He was a goddamn machine, and you’d let him share a bed with you, make love to you. He didn’t even know what love was, didn’t know if it was possible for him to even feel it; and yet, you’d been more open with him than he had been with anyone before. And he wasn’t even human. He was at a complete and utter loss for any form of explanation or reasoning behind your actions.

Danse stood alone in the bunker, staring ahead with brows furrowed low at no single thought in particular. It was then that he realized his heart was still beating out of his chest, he took a deep breath, and prepared himself to leave the bunker in search of you. Because, even now, when you were at the center of his feelings of uncertainty, of guilt, of hurt, he still felt the need to seek the counsel of the one person left he could truly trust, the one whose opinions he had sought in the darkest hours of his existence. He needed you.

More than that, he needed to make sure you were safe. At least that's what he told himself as he dressed, donning his power armor, before he rode the elevator up to the surface, his iron-clad hands clenching tightly as he gripped his laser rifle.

As Danse arrived at the surface, he noted the sunlight bursting through the lone window of the bunker, indicating how late he'd slept in, and he mentally kicked himself for his irresponsibility. If he had woken at his usual hour, would you have still been beside him? Perhaps he could've spoken to you before you left, encouraged you to hear him out, begged you to stay with him. Even just as a friend, just as a partner. He felt he simply couldn’t cope with the loss of you, of the security that you provided him.

Danse shook his head in an attempt to banish these useless thoughts from his mind. He couldn't control the past, he had to keep looking forward. With that, he crossed the threshold out into the Commonwealth.

Danse returned to the bunker a few hours before sundown, feeling utterly at a loss, he'd been everywhere he could reach, everywhere you could've gone in the period of time you had had to get there. He checked every house, farm, settlement… everything in the bunker's vicinity. His limbs felt weak and numb as he approached the entrance to the bunker. He could feel heat rising up in his face as his chest ached. He felt like he needed to hit something. Tears of frustration and dejection threatened to spill over, and he brought a gloved hand up to roughly wipe away the first drop that fell. Though, through the blur of wetness, he spotted a silhouette in the doorway ahead of him.

"Where the hell have you been?!" You shouted, running from the bunker and straight into Danse's arms. For a moment, he remained still, unable to reciprocate your relief in his state of utter shock. In the next instance, his rifle fell from his grip and he was wrapping his arms around you, as tightly as he could without injuring you.

"I believe I could ask you the same question, soldier." Danse said, willing his voice to remain stable. You pulled away so that you could look up at him, your expression one of confusion,

"I thought I told you last night. I had to go to Greentop nursery in the morning and talk to the settlers about their mutant problem." He blinked at you in surprise. At least, you thought you had told him, but maybe it had slipped your mind. It didn't surprise you, given last night's activities.

"But… Why didn't you wake me?"

"Because Danse, I've never seen you sleep in, I wanted you to get some rest for once."

"I would have rather been with you." He said quietly. You opened your mouth to speak, but he continued,

"It was irresponsible of you to leave me uninformed, you should have woken me. You scared me, Sole. I thought…" he took a quick breath to steady his voice, "I don't know what I thought. I woke up and you were gone, I wasn't sure if you were in danger, or if you were angry with me, or whether or not you even meant to return."

"Danse, of course I was going to come back, I just didn't expect you to be gone when I did."

"And for that, I apologize. However, I implore you to understand--"

"Danse. It's okay, we're both here now, we're both safe. And I don't know about you, but I'm starving. C'mon." You turned towards the bunker and went to make your way inside. Danse stood a moment, watching you walk away. Feeling began slowly returning to his limbs, and for the first time all day, his heartbeat slowed to its normal rate. He reached down to pick up his rifle, a small smile spreading across his lips as he moved to follow you back into the bunker.

Deacon:

Deacon opened his eyes, only to immediately close them again, as the bright morning sun showed through the windows of Ticonderoga safehouse, and directly into his retinas.

“Damn,” He said, reaching over to grab for his shades from beside the mattress. Once they were placed onto his face, he decided it would be safe to open his eyes once again. Deacon groaned as he rolled his shoulders, and sat up, stretching his arms overhead.

God, he felt good. The tightness of his muscles serving as a reminder of the… ahem, events of last night. Last night, with you. How the hell had that happened? He almost couldn’t believe it. After so many years of being alone, of feeling emotionally inept, and unable to move on. Here you came, seemingly out of some sci-fi novel, with your futuristic, time-traveling backstory, and inhuman good looks, and for some reason, you’d thought he was, of all things, cute. That was the word you had used, he remembered it vividly, and of course he had feigned being annoyed by the use of the word to describe him, but in reality? He adored the fact that you thought so. No one had ever referred to him as such, and the fact that it confirmed you reciprocated the feelings he had for you; that was truly extraordinary. These feelings that he had tried so desperately to bury deep down, where they couldn’t meddle with your friendship, or your professional relationship, or his own crippling fear of being committed to someone again (given how well it went the first time). Now, he barely understood why he had tried so hard to snuff out his emotions if this was one of the possible outcomes of revealing them to you. He never dreamed that you could have returned the affection he had for you. However, if last night was any kind of indicator… yeah, he’d say the two of you had pretty strong feelings indeed.

At least, that’s what he had thought. Until he turned to you excitedly, looking to see if you had woken yet, and found your spot next to him quite empty. His jaw clenched at the sight, but he took a breath and resolved himself to looking around the safehouse for your belongings. His teeth worried anxiously against the inside of his cheek as he noticed the distinct absence of anything belonging to you. Deacon stood in the middle of the safehouse, bringing his hands up to roughly rub at his face.

“God dammit.” He said aloud, unable to keep something from escaping him. Deacon liked to think he had a good bit of self control, it came with the job after all, a spy with no sense of restraint and proper judgment didn't live very long. However, you had this way of making him forget everything he thought he knew about himself. There he was last night, doing the one thing he vowed he'd never do again. Falling for someone. Him! Deacon, the immature, sarcastic, dishonest, and unemotional agent of the railroad; and here he was, head over heels for a widowed, pre-war saint like you. What a pair you two would have made.

I suppose it really was too good to be true. He thought bitterly.

Deacon grabbed his things and set off into the Commonwealth without so much as a glance over his shoulder. He stared dead ahead, refusing to address the pressure he felt in his chest. Trying desperately to maintain his cool and unbothered exterior, to remain the type of person he was before he'd met you. He always knew he could change the way he looked in a day or less, but the way you'd changed his perspective of the world, of his place in it, and his future? He didn't think you could have changed who he'd turned out to be if you had all the time in the world. Deacon was firmly set in his ways, so much so, that even he couldn't change who he was. No matter how much he despised himself at times. But man, had he been wrong, all the disguises in the world couldn't mask the fact that, for the first time in years, Deacon had a priority in his life besides the railroad, and besides himself. And that scared the shit out of him.

Now he wasn't really sure what to think. If you had simply wanted nothing more than a one-night stand, you could have just told him so. At least then he would’ve been prepared for this shit. For you leaving him, seemingly without a second thought.

The sniper shook his head roughly as he kicked up the dust of the wasteland, his footfalls much heavier than they had any business being. He always had prided himself at being a good judge of character, at being intuitive, but he never would have expected something like this from someone like you. Someone who cared about the happiness of everyone else more than their own well-being, someone who was kind, and selfless, and empathetic, someone who constantly put their own life at risk for the benefit of complete strangers. Sure, he did that occasionally, but his life was worth a hell of a lot less. You were a good person, and always had been. From the moment he saw you, everything he heard about you, all of it pointed to the fact that you, even after all you’d lost, after everything you endured, you were a better person than he could ever hope to be. And now, for you to do this to him? It was completely out of character. Whatever, he thought, if this is all you wanted from me, then fine. It's all you're going to get.

As he approached the Old North Church, Deacon mentally prepared himself for the possibility that you too would be at the Railroad headquarters. He decided to simply not acknowledge your… ordeal, and act as though nothing had changed. Though, if Deacon was honest (which he rarely ever was), he would rather not have you as his partner anymore. With the way he was feeling-- the way he had once felt about you, it would be too complicated. He didn’t need complicated. The railroad missions provided enough of that.

He entered HQ quietly, and mulled about, visiting with the others and picking up missions left and right in an effort to acquire enough distractions to keep him out of the church for as long as possible. He figured that way, the likelihood of bumping into you would be decreased enough for him to get a handle on himself before having to face you. But, of course, his plans were all for naught, he realized as you stormed into the catacombs, your glowering eyes falling directly to the bald sniper in the corner of the room; the sniper who was trying desperately to make himself seem distracted as he felt your eyes burning into the back of his head. At least you had the decency to lower your voice as you approached him,

“Deacon!” You hissed, shouting his name as quietly as one could shout.

He continued staring at the blackboard, a hand at his chin as he feigned interest in what was written there.

“What the hell?” You asked, taking another step towards him, close enough that he could feel your hot breath on his cheek.

“Hmm? Something wrong?” He asked, turning his head towards you while his eyes stayed glued to the board in front of him. You took a step back, and the next thing he knew, you had extended your hand forcefully towards his face, leaving a stinging red mark imprinted on his cheek in its wake. Deacon’s head snapped back towards the blackboard at the power of your blow, his sunglasses barely managing to hang onto his face by the bridge of his nose.

I’m not sure if I deserved that or not…

He brought his own hand up to rub the spot you had just slapped, finally letting his eyes meet yours from beneath his crooked shades. He nearly gasped at your expression. Your eyebrows were knitted together above your tear-filled eyes, your mouth a straight line as your chin trembled slightly. He’d say you looked sad, but behind your eyes, all he could see was fire. The same fire he’d felt when he saw that you had deserted him that morning. Or, at least, when he thought you’d deserted him.

Almost without thinking, Deacon grabbed your hand and dragged you back to the more private area of the railroad HQ. Despite your clear vexation with him, you allowed him to lead you to the back of the church catacombs, near the emergency exit.

“Alright, you finally ready to explain yourself?” You asked, wrenching your hand from his grasp.

“Me? I’m pretty sure it was you who walked out on me, and who just slapped me in the face for asking a simple question.” Your nostrils flared at that and for a moment, Deacon thought you were going to do something violent again.

“Okay, look, I know I’ve fallen for your lies before, but I think it’s pretty damn ridiculous for you to think that I’ll believe this one. I was there, Deacon! You left me. You took all your shit and left me alone at the safehouse. I don’t care what happened the night before, even if it was awful for you, or awkward for you to see me in that way, or whatever, you still don’t abandon your partner. We agreed to that the moment I became an agent.”

Deacon’s jaw dropped to his chest at his realization, and your accusation. He had left you? When? How? When was he supposed to find that out?

“Look, Sole, I’m a liar, I’ll give you that. But I’m a good one,” you rolled your eyes at him, a scoff sounding from your throat, “so, I wouldn’t even attempt to lie to you if I could see that you absolutely knew the truth.”

“God, if you’ve got a point, make it, asshole.”

“Ouchies, no need for name calling there, slappy. I’m just trying to figure out the miscommunication issue we’ve got going on here.” You glared at him, and he was forced to continue.

“The truth is,” Deacon looked down at the floor as he spoke softly to you, feeling as though the words were being wrenched from his throat, “I only left because I thought you had first. I woke up, and you were gone. Your things were gone. I thought that was it, that you were done with our… partnership. Done with me. And hey, I can’t say I’d blame you. Especially if you’d really think I could just up and leave after spending a night like that with you.”

“Oh.” you whispered, before trying to explain yourself, “I wasn’t-- I didn’t just leave, I mean, I went up to give High Rise the MILA for Tom. I was gone for five minutes, Deacon. I was coming right back.” The two of you stood a moment, as realization washed over you. And a bit of regret, too. And a sprinkle of foolishness.

Finally, he brought his gaze up to meet your eyes. Hoping his apology was as evident on his face as it was on yours. You brought your hand to his cheek, soothing over the angry red mark that you had left earlier, and Deacon flinched slightly at your touch, his eyes falling once again to the floor.

“It really only took you five minutes to think that I had left you?” You asked gently, the anger that had once been prevalent in your voice dissolving into concern. Deacon chuckled dryly.

“Haven’t I taught you anything? When you assume the worst, it’s a lot harder to be disappointed.”

“Yeah, I guess that makes sense. But I bet it makes it all the better when you find out you were wrong.” Deacon smiled weakly at you, shaking his head.

“Yeah, no. I’m not seeing the appeal in being wrong just yet.” The hand that still rested on his cheek slid to the back of his neck, grasping firmly as you pulled his face towards yours. The pressure of your brow displaced Deacon’s shades as you crashed your lips into his. He toppled backwards against the wall of the catacombs as you pressed more forcefully into him, his arms falling behind him to steady himself against the cold brick, as your unoccupied hand slunk up to his chest, keeping him pinned between you and the wall. You pulled your head back, but kept your hands in place as you murmured,

“What about now?”

“Hmm?” Deacon’s ginger eyebrows raised above his glasses as his mind went blank. You cocked an eyebrow at him, a smirk forming on your face.

“Oh, right. I suppose so. Though, I think I’m gonna need a few reminders every once in a while.”

“Hmm,” you mused, “I think that can be arranged.”

Hancock:

The ghoul awoke with a purr, stretching one ruined arm out to blindly search for your sleeping body. He distinctly remembered curling up with you wrapped tight in his embrace before lulling off into the best sleep he's had in years. For the first time in months he didn't have the nagging ache of wishing you were pressed against him as he settled in for the night. The thoughts of you lying so close but so painfully out of reach were finally pushed from his head to make room for the sheer bliss of being able to touch you, to feel your unbelievably soft skin, to breathe in your sweet scent and relish in the closeness of your body against his.

That was of course, until this morning. Hancock opened his eyes lazily, his dark gaze sweeping over the mess of bed sheets and pillows that littered the plush mattress. The sight of the disheveled blankets bringing back heated memories of last night. Before his brow furrowed at the realization of the current situation he found himself in. Hancock slowly rose from the bed, his dark eyes searching the surrounding room for any sign of you. He found his trousers, his hat, his coat... but nothing of yours remained where they had been tossed last night. If Hancock had a nose, it would have been curling alongside the rest of his scrunched up face as he thought of you leaving in such a hurry this morning. Hancock felt a pain in his chest and immediately craved a hit of something, anything, to numb the hollow feeling that began spreading through his body.

Sunlight shone through the windows of the old state house, the beams of light diffused by the ringlets of smoke rising from the ghoul's mouth as he took yet another hit of jet, trying hard to keep his mind blank, but inevitably failing as his thoughts returned to last night's events. Coming almost in slow motion, he picked apart every movement; every touch, kiss, lick, and caress, nitpicking every action he had made and thinking about what he might've done to warrant your desertion of him. But deep down, he knew that his actions mattered little. You had assured him on numerous occasions that him being a ghoul didn't bother you, but you had never really seen him before. Not in the way you saw him last night. Had never felt his rough skin on yours, had never run your hands up his ravaged body, the softness of your touch only amplifying the harshness of his own leathery flesh. You had never uncovered the gross discoloration of his radiation-ravaged body. But last night, you had finally gotten a good, long look. And here he was, thinking that you of all people could’ve seen past that. You had been able to forgive him for his past, after all. Hadn’t you? But maybe that had been part of it too. Maybe you’d finally realized all that he really was. A reckless and cowardly poor excuse for a man, who spends his life in a haze of delirium rather than facing the pain of being alive. A pain that he had inflicted upon himself to break away from that same self-righteous fog that he’d found himself in in the first place. It’s no wonder you’re gone. Maybe you were never even really here. Maybe you were just another daydream of his, just another hallucination. God, if that was the case, he didn’t even know what he would do. After having you so close, being with you like this? He didn’t really see the point in living without you.

Hancock sighed heavily at the thought. He didn't know how long he sat simply thinking, his perception of time temporarily altered by the jet, but he had to do something to alleviate this torture, and if chems wouldn't do it... well....

"I need some air," he rasped aloud as he stood and headed for the balcony, donning his coat and hat on his way out. The mayor had to keep up appearances, after all.

He almost didn't see you as he stepped through the door, the way you leaned out against the rail, eyes closed, a soft, beautiful smile playing at your plush lips. Hancock could've stared at you until the world around him turned to dust, but you moved long before that musing could come to reality. Turning to look at him, your smile brightened further, and Hancock couldn't keep himself from touching you. He grabbed one of your hands in his, using his other to caress your pink-dusted cheek, affirming that you truly were physically there, standing in front of him.

"And what were you doing out here all by your lonesome? Trying to give a ghoul a little taste of heartbreak?" You let out a soft laugh,

"No, sweetheart," you called him affectionately, leaning into his light touch upon your cheek, "I thought that you would sleep longer. I just wanted to get out and enjoy some sunshine." You turned once again towards the morning sun, the rays highlighting every one of your perfect features. Hancock beamed at the sight of you, before turning and looking out at his city in thought,

"Hmm," he mused, "Sunshine, huh?"

MacCready:

MacCready had been lying on his back for a while now, staring at the crumbling ceiling of the dingy little room at the hotel Rexford. This certainly hadn’t been his idea of an ideal location for your first time together, but who was he to complain? It was safe, and private, and it had been a damn good night. But he’d been staring at the ceiling for what felt like hours, waiting for you to stir. He’d thought it was odd, given the fact that you always woke up first when the two of you traveled together, but he’d like to think you hadn’t yet stirred because of the way he had exhausted you last night, his chest puffed out at the thought of it and he let out a contented sigh. The thoughts of your night together spilled into his consciousness, and he stretched out his arms in front of him, snickering slightly at the soreness of his body, and suddenly, he couldn’t wait for you any longer.

“Geeze, you awake yet, sleepyhead?” MacCready rolled onto his side to face the lump under the covers. He ran his hand over the mattress, over to you, but as he reached the lump beneath the blankets, all he felt was plushness. He withdrew the covers from atop you, only to find… pillows? Just a pillow, and a blanket. MacCready’s body spasmed as he jolted out from under the covers on his side of the bed, his head flying from side to side as he looked for you.

“Sole?” He cocked an eyebrow at the empty hotel room, and as he noticed your absence, his expression quickly changed from confusion to one of anger. You had left? But why? Had he done something wrong? He didn’t think so… but maybe he just... wasn’t everything you expected from him. Feeling like he’d been punched in the stomach, MacCready climbed from the bed, grabbing his trousers from the floor and stomping around the room in pursuit of the remainder of his clothes, not failing to notice how everything belonging to you was no longer in the room either. Heat rose to MacCready’s face as he pulled on his duster, but he wasn’t sure if it was from embarrassment, or anger, or heartache, or some combination thereof.

What the heck? He thought, you were the one to suggest doing this, why would you do that if you were just gonna leave me like this? Right when MacCready had thought he’d found the one. The person who could help him move on from Lucy after everything he’d been through. You were perfect, not just for him, but for Duncan too. You were selfless, and kind, compassionate, resourceful, sometimes you were a bit of a sarcastic ass, but he loved that about you. You were a parent and a spouse, just like he had been. You were both lost, and broken when you found each other, just a couple halves that had made each other whole. You were his future... Or so he’d thought. But who was he kidding? You were so out of his league, the two of you weren’t even playing the same damn sport. He should’ve known this would be the outcome. But then, why the heck did you let it go this far? Sure, he was the one who had poured all of his feelings out onto the table, but he didn’t know what he’d expected you to do. He just felt like he would explode if he held them in any longer, especially when the two of you spent so much time together. He saw you every damn day, and all he wanted to do was hold your hand, he wanted to sleep beside you and hold onto you through the night, to have you run your fingers through his hair and tell him that you felt the same way. MacCready never imagined you’d do something like this to him, never thought you’d get his hopes up, dangling the future he'd always dreamed of having right in his face before ruthlessly snatching it away.

He rolled his eyes at his own ridiculous train of thought and groaned as he bent down to grab his rifle.

“At least you paid for the room up front.” he mumbled as he placed his hat on his head and made his way to the door.

MacCready’s footsteps fell heavily onto each stair as he headed down to the lobby, wondering where he’d go from there. He considered going and looking for you, but what was the point? Clearly if you wanted to see him, you wouldn’t have freakin left. Was he really petty enough to seek you out just to tell you how messed up it was that you’d left him the way that you did? Maybe… but he needed a drink first. To the Third Rail it was, then. What was it, 10am? He could drink at 10am. He could do whatever the heck he wanted, especially now that you were gone.

MacCready reached the bottom of the stairs, looking straight past the small crowd of people that were gathered in the lobby as he made his way to the exit. Just as his hand reached the door, he heard his name being shouted. His body shuddered at the sound of your voice, and he stood stock straight as he decided what to do. One fist clenched as the other hand pushed the door open and he crossed the threshold into Goodneighbor. The door never closed behind him, and he felt an iron grip on his forearm as he tried to head towards the Third Rail.

“Ow, hey!” He spun to face you, face slightly contorted in his confusion. What was he supposed to think now? He was still angry and hurt, but should he be? Ugh.

“Wait, Mac. I know how it must’ve looked, but really, it’s just a misunderstanding.” He stared at you, his deep blue eyes clouded with suspicion. He didn’t say a word, not wanting to ruin anything by making false assumptions or accusations. Instead, he waited for you to explain, wrenching his wrist from your grip as he folded his arms over his chest.

Before you could continue, Rufus came up from behind, asking quietly if he could go through the doors.

“Come on,” you urged, “let’s get out of the doorway.” You herded MacCready to one of the couches in the lobby, seating yourself next to him.

“Alright. Explain.” He said, brows still furrowed. You almost snickered at how put-out the sniper seemed. You couldn’t quite tell if it was an act or not, but knowing MacCready… yeah, probably not an act.

“Rufus was having some trouble with Drinkin’ Buddy.” You told him, “The bot shut down and no one could get him to turn on again. This morning, some sort of warning light started flashing, so he came up and asked if I could help him fix it. I would’ve asked you to come along, but you were still asleep, and I know how you hate being woken up…” You trailed off, waiting for him to say something in response.

Man, MacCready felt moronic. Why had he been so quick to assume the worst? Okay, maybe not the worst, the worst would’ve been… Well, that’s not important. He shook his head, finally letting himself breathe deeply again.

“You sure that was it?” He asked, uncertainty coating his tone as he narrowed his eyes at you.

You leaned forward, smoothing a hand up his chest to the back of his neck as you brought your lips to his. Your fingers fiddled with the hair at the base of his neck and held him to you as your mouth moved against his, trying to answer his question without having to use your words. This was better, anyway. You felt a hand move to your waist as he relaxed into the kiss, his strong grip pulling you nearly into his lap as he returned your fervor. Only when you needed air did you pull back from him, your heartbeat still racing as you watched his gorgeous eyes flutter open.

“Did that answer your question?” You asked cheekily. He smiled, face still pink from the heat of your kiss.

“I don’t know, boss, I may still need some more, ah, reassuring.” You snickered at that, and glanced back at Clair’s desk.

“Any more convincing and we may need that room again. You think if we go now, we won’t have to pay the hotel for a second day?”

God, I think I’m in love. MacCready thought as he nodded to you, a boyish grin spreading across his lips. At that, both of you scrambled off of the couch, quickly making your way towards the stairs and up to the hotel room.

Nick:

The synth didn't sleep, but he didn't mind it. He stayed awake beside you in bed, replaying memories of the night over and over in his mind. Although he wasn't sure how comfortable it could be, he had his arms curled around you, holding you tightly to his synthetic chest while the memories of his favorite night (in either of his lifetimes) were running through his mind. You snored softly in his embrace, utterly at peace, as he gazed affectionately at your soft features. Nick didn't often feel blissful, and he never would've imagined himself in this situation, being completely content with the person he admired, and adored so adamantly, safely wrapped in his arms. He should've known it wouldn't last.

Without a sound, he felt as you slowly and gently pried his arms off of your body, climbing off of the shared mattress. Nick figured that you would give him an explanation; perhaps once you were out of bed? When you went to go and dress yourself? Before walking through the door? But you were silent throughout, even as he heard the door click shut behind you. Nick closed his eyes tightly, sighing to himself and wondering if the pain in his chest was substantial enough to cause him to short circuit. What had he done wrong? Even if it was nothing, he would understand why you had left. Even at his best, Nick could hardly amount to what any average human could give you, and he could never give you everything you wanted. Everything you needed, and deserved. He wasn't real. So he wouldn't blame you for leaving, hell, if he hadn't been so caught up in his own blissful feelings, he might've encouraged you to go. And he had, before last night had truly begun, he recalled asking you if he was what you really wanted. Then, you had seemed so eager, almost laughing at the thought that he couldn't be enough, after all this time the two of you had spent together, and all your pining over him. These thoughts circled through the synth's mind as he lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. He willed himself to grab a file and get to work, to do something, anything, to distract himself from the pain, but it was as though the weight in his chest was too much to bear. The height of his earlier high only amplifying the depths of his current low.

Every attempt to look through a case file was a failure, his yellow eyes roaming the first few lines of writing before his mind drifted off. To thoughts of where you could have gone, whether or not you would come back, and thoughts of last night. At the way you made his pistons fire at triple times their normal rate, the way you made his metal heart flutter in his chest, and the way you had come so beautifully undone in his arms. That was it. The moment he needed to remember for the rest of his days on this ruined earth. At that very moment, nothing else seemed to matter. He was sure he'd been foolish before, thinking you could never care for him in such a way. How foolish he'd felt then... it was nothing compared to now. The synth brought his metallic hands up to his face, the tips of his fingers displacing the worn hat on his head. He imagined tears flowing from beneath the heels of his hands as he dug them into his eye sockets, but of course none came. Would that have been acceptable? If he had been able to shed real tears, like a real human being, would you have stayed after last night? If he had been able--

The door to the agency burst open at that moment, interrupting the old detective's thoughts, and sending his head shooting back to see who had busted in so aggressively, his hat flying from its usual place atop his head.

The fact that the synth couldn't breathe didn't matter in this moment as he huffed a massive sigh of relief at the glorious sight of you, the light of the early morning sun casting a warm glow around your body.

"Oh doll..." the words escaped him as a smile began to spread across his synthetic lips, "for a moment there, I thought you were an angel." You giggled at that, your flushed smile causing the whirring in his chest to increase exponentially.

"I can't tell you how glad I am to see you, I was just about to open up a missing person's case on ya." You finally closed the door and made your way to his desk, leaning down to give his cheek a chaste kiss as you smoothed your hand over his chest, stopping to grab at his tie and pull him up towards you.

"Always the professional, hmm detective?" You smirked at him and he gave you a crooked smile before bringing his good hand up to stroke his thumb over one of your soft cheeks.

"Although," you continued, teasingly bending down to pick his hat up from the floor, "your uniform doesn’t seem to be up to the usual standards."

"Oh? Is that what you think?" He said, reaching for the hat before you held it behind your back, a mischievous grin forming on your lips,

"Sure is. You don't have your hat.”

“Oh? And whose fault is that?” He interjected playfully.

“And” you continued, “look at this coat, full of rips. It’s practically in shambles." you ran a finger down his side, allowing the tip of your fingernail to catch at the tiny holes littering the worn fabric.

"Hey now, my coat's always looked like that. You didn't seem to find fault in it when you were cold last night." You shook your head,

"Nope, I'm sorry Mr. Valentine, it's all in disarray, I'm afraid we'll just have to scrap the whole thing."

"Well now, if that’s what you were after, you could've just told me, darling. No need to insult--" His sentence remained unfinished as you tightened your grip on his tie, pulling him in for a kiss that was anything but chaste. He had so many questions left unanswered, but for reasons unknown, he couldn't seem to think of a single coherent inquiry to voice to you in this instance. Looks like it will just have to wait until later.

Preston:

Preston felt uneasy. His eyes had opened slowly when he had awoken, his heartbeat had remained consistently calm, dapples of sunlight shone through the holes in the curtains beside the bed, indicating that he had slept through the night. Why did everything feel so… so peaceful? No nightmares, no panic attacks, the usual insomnia Preston tended to face in the wee hours of the morning had never reared its infuriating head.

Then he remembered.

It was all because of you. Amazing, incredible, infallible, irresistible you. Heat flooded to his face as a coy smile touched his lips. Suddenly, he felt he had to be near you, he had to see you to believe what his mind told him had happened last night.

“Mhm, good morning," he sighed, as he turned to face your side of the bed, "how are you-- ?" Preston's eyebrows creased as he noticed your absence, his voice trailing off as he realized his question had no recipient.

"Sole?" He sat up, rubbing his awakening eyes before glancing around the room of your Sanctuary house.

"Sole?!" Preston said, louder than the first time. Perhaps you had simply gone to the washroom? Or to the kitchen maybe? Rising from the bed, Preston fetched his trousers from the pile of clothes that rested at the foot of the bed, trying not to dwell too much on the thoughts that it inspired.

But... only my clothes are here. He reflected, feeling a pang in his chest, before reminding himself that you might want to be clothed, wherever you’d gone, even if it was just in your own house. He released a bit of his anxiety in a quick breath, before heading for the bedroom door, he opened it gingerly, glancing down the hallway before making his way to each of the rooms in search of you. He did so slowly, hesitantly, in fear of what he might find. Or, rather, afraid of what he wouldn't find.

Preston stood in the empty kitchen, numb, his fear utterly realized. He collapsed into a chair at the kitchen table, afraid to let himself think, but unable to do anything else in his current state. Why, why, why did he have to act on his feelings for you? He just had to tell you how you made him feel, he had to be vulnerable and had to “put himself out there.” He just had to be intimate with you, he had to ruin everything. Why couldn’t he have just been happy with the way things were, with you as his friend? There he was, his life in danger, unable to help the people who needed him most, the Minutemen in complete disarray after having failed those they vowed to protect, and there you were. Here to save their asses, to turn his disaster of a life into one full of hope, full of light, and now, you were gone. You had left because he was an inarticulate, inexperienced, greedy, fool of a man who couldn't keep his mouth shut and just settle for having you as his general, and as his best friend. Why had he needed more? He didn't deserve more, not with you, hell, the whole damn world didn't deserve you, so how did he ever think you could want to be with him?

But you told me you did. You said you cared about me and-- No. Actions speak louder than words, and your absence after the first night you two had spent together… that spoke volumes.

Maybe you finally realized that I'm nothing special. Not compared to you. Maybe you realized that, next to you, and without you, I'm nothing at all. Preston balled a fist and pounded it weakly against your worn kitchen table, the dull thud resounding through the empty house. He sighed, sliding the chair back with a groan as he rose to his feet, heading once again to the back of the house. Entering your room without you felt like a crime, but he figured he might as well remove his things, and put on the remainder of his clothes, before leaving.

He stared down at the pile of tousled fabric at the foot of the bed, slowly untangling each individual article, secretly hoping that, if he took long enough, you would eventually make your way back into the room. That you would give him some inconsequential excuse for your absence, and he could forget all of the confusion and uncertainty of the morning. As Preston gingerly began to re-dress himself, thoughts came unbidden to the forefront of his mind. The way your soft, gentle fingers had undone each of the buttons of his shirt, the pressure tickling his neck, then his chest, down his stomach to his naval, your hands wasting no time as they moved upward to push the silky material off over his shoulders. He recalled the feeling of the smooth fabric of his scarf, as it unraveled slowly around his neck, a chill creeping onto the sensitive skin before you had chased it away quickly with the heated touch of your sweet lips. He remembered the breathy gasp that had escaped from you as your hands grasped tightly at the lapels of his coat, his mouth colliding with yours over and over again as his mind screamed for him to stop, to slow down, to ignore the fire blazing beneath his skin.

This is your general! It had told him, this is your friend, your recently widowed friend, your friend that you desperately need to keep in your life! If you screw this up, how will you ever be able to forgive yourself?

He should have listened to his head then. Why hadn’t he? Preston was sure that, if he had, it would have spared him from the awkward discussion he was bound to have with his superior officer in the near future. It certainly would have saved him the pain he was feeling now.

At the same time though... Last night had been the best night of Preston’s life. Did he really regret having those memories now? Yes, he had to. After all, what did last night matter if it hadn’t made you happy?

Preston shook his head, releasing a breath he was sure he’d been holding since he left the kitchen. Pulling up his boots, he grabbed the remainder of his things and left the room, glancing back at the empty bed one last time before placing his hat atop his head and pulling the door shut softly behind him.

The beams of morning sunlight chased away the fog that had settled in the streets of Sanctuary, bits of bright blue sky peeking through the gaps in the clouds. Looks like it’ll be a nice day. He thought somberly, trying desperately to perk himself up, lest he bump into any settlers on his patrol. He wouldn’t want to worry anyone with his troubled expression, and he certainly wasn’t prepared to answer any questions about his current state. Preston started towards the bridge, planning to begin his patrol of the perimeter from there. He was so focused on his destination, he nearly failed to notice the hand waving him down from the side of the street. When he did turn to look, his breath caught in his throat.

“Sole!” He exclaimed, much too loudly, as he noticed you, nearly dropping his laser musket. A wounded settler was seated on the curb, you were kneeling next to him on one side, wrapping a bandage around his arm, with Sturges standing on the other, an empty stimpak in hand. As soon as he processed what he was seeing, the Minuteman lieutenant tried desperately to compose himself, a blush inadvertently creeping up his cheeks as his eyes met yours. He adjusted his grip on his musket, and cleared his throat, trying to hide his embarrassment.

“Is everything alright over here?” He asked, making his way over to the group, “What can I do to help, general?” you gave him a small smile, assuring him everything was alright, and finished tending to the settler who, as Preston found out, was a new arrival who’d run into a pack of mongrels on his way to Sanctuary. When they were all certain the settler would be okay, Preston quietly asked the general if they had a moment to talk, much to Sturges’ amusement.

“I’ll leave you two lovebirds to it, then. And don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me,” Sturges slapped Preston on the back as he passed by, snickering to himself. Preston felt heat rising to his face again and quickly motioned for you to follow him behind the house, hoping to get a little privacy. He took in a sharp breath, before releasing it slowly, and you smiled warmly at him. That’s a good sign, I suppose.

“How are you feeling?” He asked you quietly. Your eyes looked past Preston, almost as though you hadn’t heard him, and he felt a pang in his chest. Turning your head slightly, you glanced to either side, ensuring no one else was looking on, before turning back to him, looking into his eyes as a flush touched your cheeks.

“If I’m honest?” you started, and Preston’s breath caught in his throat, “I’m a little sore.” you said with a little smile, and Preston felt his knees wobble as his legs nearly gave out in relief.

“Heh, if I’m honest, me too.” He said, shyly looking down at his feet as he felt heat rise to his cheeks. “So, about that,” he continued, “last night, I mean. Did you, ahem, did you like--”

In an instant, your lips were on his own. The kiss was soft, but forceful, affirming all that Preston was uncertain of.

“Last night was… amazing, Preston.” You told him after you had pulled away, your hands resting on his shoulders, keeping his body pressed to yours.

“Then, when you left this morning ... ?”

“Sturges was looking for you when he found the settler on his patrol this morning, but he obviously didn’t find you in your bed, so he came to find me and--”

Preston groaned, an embarrassed smile forcing its way to his lips,

“He didn't see anything, did he?” You giggled at that,

“No, honey, he didn’t see anything.” You rolled your eyes playfully, before pulling at his shoulders, urging his ear to your lips, “But someone did. And I hear they really liked what they saw. You know who it was?” you whispered.

“Who?” you heard him breathe.

“Hmm, you really don’t know?” You sneaked a peek at his face, noting the goofy grin that spread all the way to his warm, chocolate eyes, and you couldn’t help but lean further into him. Preston drew an arm around you, his hand on your lower back, keeping you anchored to him, and all apprehension following this morning’s events seemed to be forgotten.

“You might just have to remind me.” He said cheekily, pulling you into another kiss.

X6-88:

The tightness in his chest was the least of the courser's worries as he woke to find himself utterly alone. You were gone, that, he knew. But where-- no, how? How had you woken and readied yourself without also waking him?

He never should have agreed to last night. Not only was it completely inappropriate, given your future position in the Institute, but it had distracted him from his main duty. The most important mission he'd ever been assigned: to watch over his charge, to keep them safe. To protect you. He had grown distracted, and now you were gone. The future director of the Institute, someone he respected and idolized, a person he cared about, more than anyone he'd ever come across in his existence, was just gone. His loyalty to you was akin to his loyalty to the Institute itself, and that was non-negotiable, unbreakable, hard-wired into him. You had won his devotion on your own, which made it that much more meaningful. And that much more painful when he realized that you might not feel the same loyalty for him. But why would you? And why did he care? He was allowed to feel allegiance towards you without you needing to return it, was he not? But … if you had felt this loyalty for him, you surely wouldn't have left him alone, correct? At least that's what it seemed like, but X6 wasn't particularly knowledgeable when it came to this subject. He didn't know, these thoughts confused him, and normally you were the one to help him make sense of his more... human tendencies and emotions, but clearly in this instance, he was on his own. You had treated him like no one ever had, like a real person, and so he thought he could start acting like one. Feeling like one. But he was wrong. X6 wasn't wrong often, and he hated the feeling. In his current state, every feeling he had was a negative one. He decided to shut it out. These feelings weren't helping him protect you, which was still his mission, reciprocated loyalty or not. Sitting around, contemplating his emotions didn't help him to find you.

The courser sat up and climbed off the mattress, grabbing his clothes that he had folded neatly beside the bed last night, noting that only his were present. After you had fallen asleep, X6 had untangled his body from your own as gently as he could, so as not to wake you, and had placed your clothes beside the bed in preparation for the morning. He had retrieved his courser uniform from the floor, with the intent of dressing himself and sitting on watch for the night, but you had stirred, sleepily requesting he return to the space beside you. He remembered hesitating, before folding his coat and placing it on the table beside your own clothes and doing as you had asked. Sliding beneath the covers, he had laid on his side, placing an arm around your waist. He remembered wondering if what he had done was correct, if he was doing this all right, but you had seemed happy, and that was all that mattered to him. So, if he had done nothing wrong, why had you left? Taken your clothes, and your bag, and your gun, and vanished without a trace? And when had he started caring about your happiness? Your health, and your safety, yes, he should certainly care about those, given the nature of his orders. But now he cared about how he made you feel. He wanted you to be happy, and he wanted to be the one to make you feel that way. But why?

X6 shook his head, attempting to clear it, and grabbed his rifle from the top of the dresser. It was distracting thoughts like these that had forced him into his current predicament, he wasn't about to make that mistake again. Placing his shades onto his face, he prepared to head through the door, and out into the wastes to search for you.

X6 surveyed the surrounding area outside of your home in Sanctuary: the gas station, Abernathy farm, Tenpines bluff, even the inside of Vault 111. Yet, there was no sign of you. He returned to Sanctuary and found your house still empty, the hollowness growing in his chest as he realized that your leaving really had been intentional. Elsewise, he would have stumbled across you, or some sign of you, by now, right? He stood in your old kitchen, his knuckles paled at the death grip he held on the edge of the counter, his jaw clenching as he tried to hold his emotions at bay.

How could he have agreed to last night? And why would you have presented the idea if you had meant to do this to him in the end? With a groan of frustration, X6 pounded a hand against the countertop, leaving a small indent in the shape of his fist. Not only had you left him, you had done so without warning, without explanation, and now he couldn't find you. He couldn't find you. That's what he did, he was a relentless hunter, a cold pursuant, he completed all of his missions efficiently, he followed Institute protocol, he followed orders. What he didn't do was get wrapped up in human emotions, he didn't throw caution to the wind and give into his most base desires. He was a synth. He didn't yearn, or want, or love. Or at least he hadn't.

Not until he met you.

The courser sighed, fists still clenched in frustration. He didn't know what to do, you were his mission, but if you commanded him to leave--? But you never actually had ordered him away... In his eyes, there was only one option for him to consider.

"Unit X6-88, ready to relay back to the institute. Alone."

A flash of blue, and he was back. No one asked him to report in, and he didn't offer. He started straight towards the SRB, wondering what the consequences would be for his behavior. A memory wipe would be the best outcome, especially if... Oh. But if they saw the memories from last night, what would happen to you?

X6 stopped in his tracks, turning quickly to go up the stairs that ascended to the residential portion of the Institute. Once again, he was at a loss. He didn't want to lose those memories, but more than that, he didn't want anyone else to see them. You were the first person he's ever met that treated him as a human, saw him as one, made him feel like one, and he couldn't bear the thought of what the Institute scientists would say about you, say to you, or do to you, if they saw what you had done with him. The courser looked down at his feet as he walked quickly, moving instinctively towards your quarters. He turned down the hallway, and recoiled at the figure that appeared as your door dragged open. X6’s eyes widened beneath his shades, and he cleared his throat to keep himself from gasping in surprise as your eyes met his.

"There you are! I was wondering when you would finally turn up, I finished with the meeting hours ago. I was just about to go out and look for you. Don't tell me you slept in this late?" You said with a grin that spread all the way to your glorious eyes. X6 couldn't form words, he just stood gawking at you, his mouth half open, looking like a complete fool. Right, the meeting with Father. How had he forgotten?

"Is everything okay?" You asked, your smile being replaced by an expression of concern. The courser didn't answer, he still couldn't keep his thoughts in order; instead, he stepped forward until his chest pressed against yours, urging you to back into your quarters. You did so rather hesitantly, a confused expression causing your brows to crinkle. When the door had closed behind him, X6 slowly reached out his arms, wrapping them tightly around you, just as you had shown him last night, he pulled you to his chest and held you firmly. The warmth of you, your soft hair and sweet scent calmed his strained nerves, and he finally allowed himself to take a deep breath and close his eyes, just for a moment. As quickly as he'd initiated it, he pulled away from the hug, squaring his shoulders and straightening his posture,

"I'm glad you're safe, ma'am/sir."

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rainydaydream-gal18 · 4 years ago

Text

(The Bad Batch) Camping: Crosshair’s Ending

Intro

“I guess I’ll follow Crosshair,” you said. The sharpshooter hadn’t heard your statement. He was already on his way toward the edge of the clearing, crossing over into the woods.

Omega nudged you with her elbow. “You’d better hurry, or you’ll miss him!”

You hesitated. “I don’t know. He didn’t wait around for anyone to go with. Maybe he wants to be alone.”

“No,” she insisted with a shake of her head, blonde locks waving. “Trust me, he won’t mind you going. He likes your company.”

You had to admit that he wasn’t as abrasive with you as he once had been. Over time, the sudden snaps and sarcastic comments had died down. He even showed subtle signs that he cared for you as a member of the team and family in his own little way. Your feelings for him had grown beyond what you could have imagined in that time. You didn’t expect for them to be returned, but at the very least, Crosshair didn’t seem to mind you.

“Hurry!” Omega urged again, giving you another nudge. Crosshair had already disappeared into the forest, but he most likely hadn’t gotten far. You shrugged at Omega before taking off for the edge of the clearing.

“Here goes nothing,” you muttered to yourself. A twig snapped beneath your shoe as you stepped out of the bright open clearing and into the shady, cool woods. It was beautiful. The trees above created a sort of canopy, only allowing for smaller patches of sunlight to shine through. Everything was so green, and the air smelled so sweet. The brush was thick and difficult to get through even though you were following Crosshair’s trail.

You looked straight ahead to see him standing there several feet away, twisted around to peer at you over his shoulder. You offered a smile and waved despite the fact that your leg was caught in a bush. If he was surprised to see you, he didn’t show it. His gaze swept over you for a moment before he approached.

“Hey,” you greeted.

Crosshair’s eyes met yours briefly. “Hey.” He extended his hand and pulled you forward so that you could remove your leg from the brush. It was done swiftly and with ease. Once you were free, you dusted yourself off and looked up at him.

“Thanks. Do you mind if I walk with you?”

Crosshair turned his body in the direction he’d been walking in before, peering at you over his shoulder once more. “Do what you want.” It was well known that he wasn’t the most wordy or expressive. That phrase was his way of an open invitation.

You were watching where you walked, but your gaze was also drawn to the one who led the way through the dense woods. You studied him as if somehow it would give you insight to what was going on in that mind of his. He didn’t speak for some time. Your eyes rested on the back of his head of silver hair, traveling down his form and pausing at his arms. They were left exposed by his sleeveless blue shirt that faded into darker blue further down the torso. He definitely wasn’t built like Wrecker, but his arms weren’t noodles either. His lean form held an impressive strength. You’d witnessed it on the battlefield many times, and even more recently, he demonstrated it when he had snapped the tent pieces back into place in front of you and handed them back. It had been done swiftly and with ease, whereas it had taken you and Omega both to do it the first time.

“What?”

You snapped out of your train of thought at his question. “Uh, what?”

“You were staring.”

Of course, those keen eyes of his didn’t miss a thing. It was handy when it came to taking out droids, but at that moment, it was unfortunate.

“Sorry. I was just thinking.”

He stepped over a bush and paused, turning to hold out an open hand towards you. You hesitantly took it, and he helped you over the plant. “About what?” he asked. It wasn’t meant to be nosy or demanding. It seemed he was trying to start a conversation, which was a rare but not entirely unheard of occurrence for him. At least, not with you these days.

Your heart was thumping erratically at that point, racking your brain for something to say other than “I was thinking about you.” Although, you didn’t want to lie either. “I was just thinking how nice the sights are here.” It was true. Crosshair just happened to be one of the sights that you admired.

“It is nice,” he agreed, pausing to cast an admiring glance at the canopy of trees above. The leaves created lovely patterned shadows on his face. You followed his gaze and sighed at how your chest swelled with happiness. The air was warm, but not quite as blistering hot as it was in the sunny clearing. The shade held a different kind of quiet intensity, a tension that was still so beautiful to you.

Your eyes fell back to Crosshair. The corner of his mouth was turned up in a half-smile at the view. He noticed then that you were watching him, and he turned his head to look back at you fully.

“Have you and the squad done this before?” you asked. “Gone camping?”

“We’ve camped out for missions,” he replied. “Never did it for fun.”

“Technically, Hunter originally told us that this was for team-building.”

“Funny, he’s the one who let everyone wander off in separate directions.”

You chuckled at the realization. “That’s true. Well, maybe this is part of team-building in the end. We negotiated an effective way for everyone to do what they want. I’d say that was a good problem-solving exercise.”

Crosshair shook his head. “Good one.”

The two of you continued through the forest, talking a little along the way. It wasn’t exactly a chatter-filled walk, but it was probably the most you and Crosshair had opened up to each other. He told you a few stories about the squad’s past experiences camping out. There was one in particular about how Wrecker heaved a rock and accidentally knocked over a hive of bees that Crosshair even smirked at. Fortunately, Wrecker had escaped without getting stung, but he had run off yelling and swatting his hands around.

You weren’t sure how long you and Crosshair had been out, but it was definitely past lunchtime. You hardly noticed. You were having such a nice time with him that the time flew.

“We should turn around,” you spoke up. “The others are probably having lunch now.” Crosshair paused and nodded before turning straight around and heading back the way you came.

Even as late as it was, It still seemed a little too early for the sky behind the trees to be darkening as much as it did. The air had grown humid, and the bird chirping had ceased. The woods had gone from delightfully shady to nearly sunless and dreary. You walked closer to the sharpshooter, though not so close that you’d step on his heels by accident.

Then, you heard the pitter-patter of rain beginning to fall on the greenery around you. It started off as a trickle before gradually morphing into a downpour. It was so heavy that even the trees didn’t shield you from the drops that soaked your clothes.

You felt a hand take yours, and you squinted through the rain to see Crosshair urging you to follow. You let him lead you toward a large tree that had been uprooted. It leaned against another tree, creating a spot beneath it untouched by the rainfall.

You rested your back against the upright trunk, panting from the sudden dash. Crosshair ran a hand through his damp hair and shook some drops from his face.

“When it lets up, we’ll keep going,” he said. Both of you stared out into the rainy haze in silence. You wondered how long it would be before it would subside. You were glad to have a shelter of sorts, but you were starting to shiver in your soaked clothes. Crosshair’s eyes locked on you. He gazed at you, and despite your chill, your face grew warm under his quiet scrutiny. Finally, he walked over to stand right in front of you.

“Cold?” he drawled.

Your words abandoned you at the proximity, so you merely gave a short nod. Crosshair was just as soaked as you were, but the arm that slipped around you still provided some comfort. You automatically leaned into him, pressing your face against his bare shoulder which was already warming back up. His other arm wrapped around your form, and you breathed a sigh as you sank into the contact even more.

You lost yourself in the rise and fall of his chest as well as the steady thrum of his heart. It was a melody that you were sure would play itself over and over in your mind after the encounter. You didn’t even want to think about the after. You didn’t want this to end. Your arms had slipped around his waist, and his breath hitched. You lifted your head to meet his gaze, concerned that perhaps you’d overstepped, but then his eyes locked on yours.

It was like the bug caught in a spider’s web that caught your eye earlier as you passed through the forest. You were trapped by those piercing eyes as his face grew closer, though you didn’t feel like the prey you’d seen before. You weren’t struggling to escape. You were drawn in.

And suddenly, his warm lips were pressed to your own. His grip on you tightened, and you felt like you’d melt into a puddle if it weren’t for his arms holding you. All at once, something exploded in your chest, and your lips pulled away only to unite again in a more heated dance. Your back hit the tree trunk behind you, and Crosshair grunted an apology. His lips met yours again before he pulled away altogether, eyes glinting.

“Rain stopped,” he said, running a thumb along your jaw. You didn’t tear your eyes from his to confirm, only noted that the sound had subsided.

“We’d better head back then,” you replied.

Neither of you moved for several seconds. Eventually, both of you were able to pull away, though his hand didn’t let go of yours, and continued your trek back to the campsite. The walk back was quiet, though you found yourself meeting Crosshair’s gaze many times. There wasn’t room for embarrassment because he was almost always staring at you first. Even though there was a bit of a hurry to get back to the campsite before it rained again, you enjoyed every second.

#bad batch #bad batch crosshair x reader #crosshair x reader #crosshair x y/n #crosshair reader insert #bad batch reader insert #bad batch crosshair reader insert #bad batch crosshair #crosshair imagine #crosshair x you #bad batch x reader #bad batch fanfiction #the bad batch #star wars the bad batch reader insert #crosshair

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cherienymphe · 4 years ago

Text

Lies Untold (Sherlock Holmes x Reader)

WARNINGS: NON-CON, jealous!Sherlock

!!! DNI IF THIS OFFENDS YOU !!!

➥ {page breaks done by @firefly-graphics }

summary: Sherlock Holmes is the love of your life, and convinced that you will never get your happily ever after with him, you make a decision that does more harm than good

Your morning started like every other. You were briefly woken up by the feel of your husband’s lips on your face, his smooth voice greeting you before moving onto your daughter in her crib. You drifted back to sleep just as he shut the door, making his way downstairs to open up the inn for the day. When you woke up for the final time, it felt like hours later, but in reality, it could have only been minutes.

You breastfed your daughter almost immediately after you woke up, the two of you somehow always waking up together. You went downstairs for breakfast as soon as she was fast asleep again, greeting your husband with a kiss as you met in the kitchen. The day went by slow, the last guest leaving the inn sometime in the early evening. It was late in the night, almost time for you to retire when the bell above the door rang.

A guest had arrived.

Your husband was on the third floor where you all resided, tending to your daughter no doubt while you manned the first floor. You were fooling with something behind the counter, head bent down as their heavy steps reached your ears.

“I’ll be with you in just a moment,” you told them.

They did not reply, but you knew they heard you. You rose, straightening your dress as you lifted your eyes to greet the only guest for the night. As soon as your eyes met a familiar blue, you froze, feeling as if you had been struck by lightning.

He looked the same as ever. Perhaps even more handsome now, and you cursed yourself for thinking such a thought when your husband was just upstairs. He looked just as stunned to see you, reaching up to adjust his dark suit as he cleared his throat. His hair was a bit longer since the last time you saw him, an errant curl hanging onto his forehead, and you suddenly realized that you had been holding your breath.

“Mr. Holmes,” you breathed, chest burning a bit from the lack of oxygen. “Just you?”

He made a noise that sounded like a cross between a laugh and a scoff, lips quirking upwards.

“Mr. Holmes?”

You swallowed, uncomfortably shifting on your feet. He stepped up to the counter, that teasing smile on his pink lips, one you did not return.

“A little formal for old friends, is it not?”

Your shoulders sagged as you released a small sigh.

“No, you…you are right. It’s just been a while since I’ve last seen you,” you told him. “I was caught off guard.”

It was the truth. Honestly, you had hoped to never see Sherlock again. Not if you could help it.

“So, you run an inn now…”

You briefly glanced at him as you searched for a key, nodding.

“I do.”

“I had not realized. The name…it was unfamiliar to me,” he said.

Your hand tightened around the key, and you avoided his eye, heart beating wildly in your chest.

“It’s my husband’s name,” you murmured.

You swore that you could hear his breath hitch, and it seemed to get unbelievably quiet. Against your better judgement, you looked to him, finding his blue eyes just a tad darker. His face always looked pinched, like he was constantly overthinking, but this was more than that. He looked positively floored. Were you the first person to have thrown the great Sherlock Holmes for a loop? Had circumstances been different, you would have felt proud.

Before either of you could say anything else, your husband’s footsteps on the stairs reached your ears. You turned to him with a strained smile just as he neared, and he placed a soft kiss on your cheek.

“Mr. Holmes,” your husband greeted jovially. “What a pleasure! Will it be just you then?”

“Indeed,” the dark-haired man hummed, and although you were no longer looking at him, you could feel his eyes on you.

“The last guest checked out hours ago, so the whole inn will be nice and quiet for whatever work you need to do. That is, provided our daughter sleeps through the night,” he jested.

Your eyes widened, having had no intentions of mentioning that to your guest…ever. You did not dare look at him and overwhelmed with the emotions that seeing him brought on, you clutched your stomach, feigning sick as you stepped back.

“I’ve grown a bit weary. I think I will call it a night,” you told your husband.

His face twisted with concern, and you felt a tad guilty, but your uneasiness from Sherlock’s hard stare was more pressing. Your husband, the sweetheart that he was, placed a hand on your back as he ushered you towards the stairs.

“Of course, dear. You only had the baby months ago, you should not be up on your feet so much, anyway,” he quietly told you, sending you off with a kiss on the cheek.

You slowly took the stairs, hearing him continue his conversation with the man you had hoped to never see again. Your legs shook with every step, and the more you blinked, the faster the tears collected in your eyes. Despite the fact that your husband had yet to cease his rambling, you could still feel Sherlock’s gaze on your back as hot as it always was. As it always had been.

Relief did not find you even all the way up on the third floor. You pressed your back to the door as soon as you made it to your bedroom, and you swallowed hard, fighting to hold in a scream. You had forced yourself to make peace with the everything, with your own decisions. You never thought that you would be able to, but you did, and right when you seemed to be okay, the man who had caused it all slithered back into your life, his presence mocking you.

A soft gurgle from the crib reached your ears, and you pushed yourself away from the door, reminding yourself that it was not just you anymore. Her face was twisted in discomfort, features only smoothing out when you took her into your arms. The mattress creaked under your weight as you sat down, making yourself comfortable with your back to the headboard. Your knees were bent, your daughter resting against your legs as you both stared at one another. Her tiny hand wrapped around your finger, and your heart clenched as you stared into her eyes, a familiar shade of blue staring back at you.

You avoided leaving your room as much as you could. Your husband was the one who mostly dealt with the inn anyway, but you had enjoyed greeting and interacting with the guests. Until recently. Oddly enough, Sherlock was your only guest for the next two days, and you wondered if you were cursed. There were no other guests to tend to, no other guests to distract you, and you could not feign ill forever. You regularly interacted with the guests, and your husband would start to find your behavior odd.

You had genuinely thought you’d never see the famous detective again. You had fought to marry someone as far away from your hometown as you possibly could, determined to distance yourself as much as you could from the place you had both grown up in. Not only to avoid ever seeing him again, but also because it was far too painful. How funny it was to think that if you had stayed, you probably would have achieved what you set out to do.

It was the third day since he had checked into the inn, and unable to sleep in the early hours of the morning, you opted for getting an early start on breakfast. Your husband and daughter were still fast asleep, and perhaps you could be done before your only guest arose. You had no idea what case he was in town for. You had made it a habit to avoid the papers, and perhaps that was why you had been blindsided by his sudden appearance.

You had only been in the kitchen for a matter of minutes when the subject of your thoughts joined you.

You paused in what you were doing, not expecting him while he, on the other hand, seemed to have been waiting up for you. He was dressed as nicely as always, and that pensive look that he always seemed to sport was replaced by a troubled one. You watched as his hand flexed, and you were reminded how they had felt on you once. Forcing those thoughts from your mind, you gathered yourself.

“Mr. Holmes,” you greeted. “Breakfast will be a while.”

You both knew that he had not come down for food, but you turned away from him anyway to continue your work. It was quiet for a while as he stood there, watching you work. He was making you nervous, like always, and it was only when you realized that you were making no progress did he finally speak.

“You are married now.”

You paused, swallowing with a heavy chest. It was not a question. Not even really a statement, but more like an accusation. With a heavy sigh, you turned your head, barely looking over your shoulder at him as you rested your hands on the table.

“Did you think I was going to wait for you forever?”

You were met with silence, and you shook your head.

“You knew how I felt about you,” you said, kneading the dough. “How I felt since we were mere children. A woman does not have the luxury of keeping her options open. Decisions had to be made.”

You heard him step closer, and you visibly winced, shoulders tensing up.

“Do you love him?”

You frowned, spinning around to face him, chest clenching as your insides twisted.

“What kind of question is that?”

“One you have yet to answer,” he murmured, taking another step towards you.

You scoffed.

“My husband is kind and selfless and he is positively crazy about me. I would be silly not to love him,” you replied.

The blue-eyed man before you threw you a crooked smile, but it lacked humor.

“You still did not answer the question.”

You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest as you looked away.

“What does it matter to you?”

“He says the two of you have been married for a year. The last time I saw you was a little over a year ago... How quickly you-.”

“You do not get to do that, Sherlock Holmes,” you snapped, fighting to keep your voice low.

You cursed yourself for the way your voice cracked, and you frantically blinked away tears. You stumbled back when he took another step towards you, bumping into the table in the process.

“I did nothing but wait around for you for years while you ran off solving case after case and made a name for yourself. I never faulted you for that…just myself for being so incredibly stupid…”

Your eyes met his again, surprised to see anger in them because you could not remember a time the man had ever been angry. It was alright with you though. You were angry too.

“I never once hid my feelings for you…and it got to a point where I could no longer wait for you to do something about it. Something legitimate anyway,” you quietly added.

Having grown up with the man, it was hard not to fall for his intellect, his looks. He was always polite to you, and you always looked at him like he hung the moon. You were not the only one though. You knew that you were one of the many. Your feelings for him had never been a secret, and his lack of reciprocity led you to believe that your love for the man would always be unrequited just like all the other girls. Until it wasn’t.

You could never pinpoint when it had happened, but he had kissed you one day, and it seemed that he could never bring himself to stop kissing you. Until of course, he had to leave again, leaving you behind to wait for his return…whenever that would be. For years this spanned. Spending days, weeks at the most, with him, wrapped up in each other both figuratively and literally until his profession pulled him away from you again and again. It broke your heart every time, but you told yourself that it would not be for naught. You told yourself that he just needed time.

You constantly told yourself that until the day you were out of time.

“Does he know?”

Some of the hardness in his eyes had seeped away, giving way to a fire that you knew all too well. With the table at the back of your legs, you realized that you had nowhere to go as he neared you. The man was always so big, and while you had appreciated that once, it only worried you now. He continued when you refused to respond.

“Does he know that you were mine before he even laid eyes on you?”

Your frown deepened, hating the way he talked about you, but you could not deny the way his words spoke to a part of you that you had tried so hard to bury.

“Does he know that you will always bear the mark of my touch? That your body will always remember the first who played it so well?”

“Stop,” you choked out. “You…you cannot do this.”

It was painful to hear him talk about how he had been your first. How you had given yourself to him wholeheartedly, sure that you would never regret it.

“Why not? Why can I not remind you that you are mine? That you will always be mine?”

He sounded pained, a first for him, and you realized that deep down past the possession and anger…Sherlock was hurt. Maybe all he really needed was time, but life had happened, and you had been forced to make decisions that you did not necessarily care for. Straightening yourself, you stared into his eyes, finding the reflection of you in them.

“…because I am not yours. Not anymore.”

You brushed past him before he could respond, determined to wipe your face and gather yourself before your husband woke up.

Another day passed, and then another, and Sherlock was still here. You had a sneaking suspicion that he was hanging around for more than just another case to solve. Your husband, none the wiser, was more than happy to entertain the renowned detective for as long as he needed. You, on the other hand, felt like you had died and gone straight to hell.

Sherlock’s presence brought up memories you would rather forget. His very face forced you to remember the decisions you had made to avoid a life of ruin, forced you to remember the lie you were currently living. You found yourself crying yourself to sleep now as much as you did in the beginning, and for that, you hated him. You just wanted him to leave and pray that you would never see him again.

The universe or God or whatever higher power controlled the puppet strings to your life had other plans.

It was late in the night when your daughter woke up out of her sleep. Your husband groaned next to you, but you whispered to him that you would deal with it. She did not seem to be hungry, so you took to walking throughout the inn to calm her. She liked that. You strolled up and down the stairs, through the entrance hall, the kitchen, any crevice of the building until she fell into a quiet hush, staring up at you as you hummed.

You were in the sitting room, swaying from side to side, hoping to rock her back to sleep. You loved her dearly, more than you loved yourself, but you loved your sleep almost as much. You cracked a small smile, watching as she ran her eyes over you before something behind you caught her attention. You felt him before you heard him, and you spun around to face the last person you wished to see.

His white shirt was rumpled, and you figured that he had inadvertently fallen asleep at some point. Your wide eyes were on him as he stood before you in all of his glory, and you absentmindedly tightened your hold on your daughter. Neither one of you said a word. You had nothing to say, but there did seem to be something weighing on his mind, although for some reason, he would not voice it. You found yourself eyeing the curls of his hair, his fair complexion and handsome bone structure. The top of his shirt was undone, a sliver of skin winking at you, and you sharply inhaled.

You were still very much in love with Sherlock Holmes.

Would you ever truly be free of him?

As your daughter squirmed in your arms, you were reminded that no, you would not. The man could leave tomorrow, and you could truly get your wish of never seeing him again, and you would still never be free. Her movements grabbed his attention, and as his eyes fell to the baby in your arms, you hated the way he looked at her.

As if he was studying her like one of his cases that needed to be solved.

However, with horror, you realized that he was studying her. You tried to shield her, backing away in the process, but he followed you. His dark brows furrowed, eyes narrowing as he ran them over your daughter. When you passed through the moonlight, the glow catching her eyes, his face hardened, jaw ticking so violently you worried that he would break a tooth.

His eyes snapped to yours, and you could not even find it in yourself to look away. You were frozen. His lips parted, and you feared what he would say, but the sound of your husband’s steps descending the stairs saved you. In only a moment, Sherlock was on the other side of the room, and your husband was there, apologizing to the man if your daughter woke him up.

“Nonsense. I was already awake,” Sherlock told him, and you had a feeling that it was not a lie.

Still, your husband, the kind man that he was, continued to apologize, and you took the opportunity to escape. You could feel Sherlock’s gaze the entire time, fiery and oppressive, and it should not have come as a shock to wake up to him in your bedroom.

Yet somehow, it was.

You should have known something was off when you woke up feeling more well rested than you had in months. The familiar cry of your daughter, a noise that regularly roused you from sleep, was oddly absent. This was what made you realize why you had slept for so long. Upon realizing this, your body immediately filled with worry, and you sat up like the house was on fire.

However, you were not prepared for the hulking frame that was Sherlock Holmes to greet you. He stood by your daughter’s crib, and your heart dropped to your stomach as you slowly slid to the edge of the bed. You shakily reached for him, his name on your lips, and he turned around. You sharply inhaled at the sight of your daughter in his arms, the small thing looking so much smaller while being held in his bands of muscle.

“Give her to me…please,” you whispered.

You did not know why you wanted him away from her. He knew the truth, and as if reading your thoughts, he said:

“Why? Is it not within my rights to hold her? She is mine…is she not?”

His voice was venomous, eyes icy as he looked to you, and you flinched. You settled back down on the bed, shrinking in on yourself as he glared at you. You did not know what to say. What could you say? In the light of day, it was obvious more than ever who her true father was. Why on earth were you feeling guilty? You had no reason to.

“Does he know?” he suddenly asked you, voice low and softer now.

“Of course not,” you tearfully replied.

You hated lying to your husband, but choices had to be made to protect her, to give her a good life. Sherlock heaved a shaky sigh, and you twisted your hands into your nightdress.

“Where is he?”

“He’s gone to town…said he needed to get some things for the inn,” he answered.

You were somehow simultaneously relieved and terrified.

“Sherlock-.”

“So, this is why you married him,” he bitterly said. “This is why you rushed to take his name and forget me so easily.”

“You have no right,” you sneered, standing and rushing towards him.

He moved back, keeping her away from you, and you were tempted to stomp your foot like a child.

“You kept her from me,” he accused, blue eyes boring into your own, and your skin prickled under his cold stare.

“I would not expect you to understand,” you told him.

His handsome face twisted into something ugly, and he stepped towards you.

“Why did you not tell me?”

You sneered at him.

“When was I supposed to do that? I would see you what…3, maybe 4 times a year if I was lucky?”

“You could have written to me!”

She squirmed in his arms, making a noise of protest, and you reached out, shushing her, but again, he held her out of your reach. You clenched your hands into fists, chest aching as he forced you to talk about what you had done.

“…and how was I to find you? How was I to know you would receive my letter in time? You were gallivanting all over the country, Sherlock. I would have been showing by the time I waited for you to turn up.”

He at least had the decency to look a tad sheepish, and he glanced down at the baby in his arms.

“Of course, you do not get it. You are not a woman. I did not have time or options. Decisions had to be made for both me and my daughter’s sake, and unfortunately, they had to be made without you.”

He did not respond, and you watched the way he looked at her. When you had first found out, this was everything you had wanted. You had dreamed of him looking at her just like that, but then reality had set in and crushed those dreams. Reluctantly, he handed her back to you, and you pressed your lips to her forehead. You felt his large hand on the top of your head, and when you looked up, his eyes were on you.

“Leave with me,” he whispered.

Pain etched across your features, and you shook your head.

“I cannot.”

“Yes, you can. She is mine, not his, and you love me…not him.”

You did not acknowledge the fact that he saw right through you no matter how much you pretended otherwise. Again, you shook your head and backed away from him.

“I cannot do that to him. He is a good man, and he does not deserve that,” you told him.

Sherlock stepped towards you until his body heat was all you could feel, and you looked down, avoiding his eye.

“So, am I to leave? Never to see you again and just allow him to raise my daughter as his own? Forget about you?”

“Yes.”

You regretted it almost as soon as you said it, but what else could you do? Running away with him was not an option. People would talk. Ruin would follow your name, and anything between you and the man before you would not be legitimate. You had to think of your daughter first. Before he could say anything else, the sound of the front door opening reached your ears, and your wide eyes found his.

You did not say anything, but you silently begged him to do what you wanted. Sherlock looked as if he wanted to do the complete opposite of what you wanted, face troubled and brows furrowed, but eventually, he relented. Reluctantly, he stepped back and exited your room, slipping downstairs and into his own.

Sherlock stayed at your inn for a little over a week, only 2 other guests passing through in that time. When your husband was gone, you allowed him to hold your daughter, and you had no idea how much you would be affected by the sight of the burly man holding the doll sized child in his arms. You knew that it got harder and harder for him to hand her back to you, and you worried what would happen when it came time for him to leave.

She was currently with him now while you cleaned one of the rooms that a guest had stayed in. Your husband had gone to get ingredients for the kitchen, and you were relieved to be alone with your thoughts. Not once had you ever regretted your decisions, but now you were having second thoughts. You would love for your daughter to grow up with her real father in her life, but it just would not be possible. There were so many things that you wanted that were no longer possible. It was bittersweet, sure, but you were glad that Sherlock got to know her for a short time versus having never known her at all.

You had just stripped the bed, turning to get more sheets when you were startled by the man himself in the doorway. You pressed your hand to your chest, fighting to slow your heart as you curiously looked at him. Your brows furrowed as you looked for your daughter.

“She’s asleep,” he said, answering your silent question.

“Oh,” you responded, relieved. “Is something wrong?”

He pursed his lips, stepping into the room, and you blinked at him.

“I cannot do it,” he suddenly said, shaking his head.

Dread settled in your gut, but you pressed him for the answers that you already knew.

“What do you mean…?”

He neared you, and you leaned back a bit at his close proximity.

“You cannot ask this of me-.”

“Sherlock-.”

“I will not do it. I will not just walk away!”

“You have to-!”

“That is my daughter. That is our daughter. You expect me to just go on and pretend that she does not exist?”

You looked away from him, overwhelmed with panic as he wrapped his hands around your arms.

“You both will leave with me,” he whispered. “I will right my wrongs-.”

“I cannot-.”

“I do not care about him. He is nothing to me,” he sneered. “He is the man who has laid claim to something that does not belong to him.”

“I am not yours anymore!”

You both stared each other down, and you frowned when he pushed you back until you felt the wall behind you. His eyes were wild with so many emotions. Anger, pain, desperation, jealousy, and the one that was a constant when he was with you, hunger.

“You will always be mine,” he murmured, leaning in.

You turned your head away, and his lips met your cheek.

“You surrendered your body to me, and it has been mine ever since. I was the first to touch you…and I shall be the last.”

His lips found yours against your will, and with his hands on your arms, you could not push him away. You had forgotten what his lips felt like, what he tasted like, but none of that mattered because you were a married woman now. Sherlock was your past and that was where he needed to remain. You opened your mouth to tell him that, to protest, but he merely took the opportunity to reacquaint himself with the taste of your tongue.

He released you only to press his hands onto your hips, and you pushed against his chest. His moan told you that it had no effect, and your panic grew when he stepped back, pulling you with him. His hands were everywhere as you fought against him, and although your mind protested what was happening, your body, having been accustomed to his euphoric touch for so long, melted under the familiar ministrations.

He had you on your back in no time, tearing your dress off of you with ease. Your pleas fell on deaf ears, the man before you equal to that of a man starved, and his eyes and mouth and hands had one goal in mind and that was to get inside of you in any way possible.

“We cannot do this,” you gasped the minute he pulled away, but it was as if he did not hear you. “Sherlock!”

Your efforts to get him off of you only increased when you realized that he was almost as naked as you were. His lips tasted your neck and chest, and you sharply yelped when his teeth nipped at you.

“I have half a mind to mark your skin as you have marked my soul,” he whispered. “…to show that husband of yours what it truly means to claim you.”

You pressed your nails into his chest when he slid inside of you, hips meeting yours in a way that you had not felt for over a year. A satisfied moan left him, and you could not stop the way you clenched around his length, your body missing the feel of him. Still, you pushed against him, shaking your head with tear-filled eyes as he began to move. The next time you opened your mouth to protest, a choked moan came out instead, and you sunk your teeth into your lip.

“Feel the way you cling to me…the way your body loosens up to what it knows so well.”

He was right. He knew how to play your body like an instrument, knowing exactly what to do to make you sing, but that did not make it right. Your hands pushing against his shoulders and chest were of no use, and so you resorted to begging.

“Please…stop,” you pleaded in between breaths, but he merely shook his head.

“No,” he plainly said, hands greedily pressing into some of the baby weight that remained. “I have gone without you for far too long, and that is a mistake I will never make again.”

Your body was on fire from his thrusts, and you were hardly coherent enough o be having this conversation.

“You cannot just…you cannot just steal us away-.”

“I cannot steal what is rightfully mine,” he purred, wrapping his lips around a hardened bud.

Your lashes fluttered, and you dug your nails into his skin, pushing against him, but again, he was immoveable. Your vision was blurry from your tears now, and you squeezed your eyes shut when he completely fell over you, arms pressed into the bed beside your head, caging you in until all you could see and smell was him.

You reminded of your first time. It had been nighttime then, and he had ordered you to relax and take what pleasure he bestowed upon you. He had taken his time to figure out what your body liked and what your body loved, but he had been completely in control. Now seemed no different. Sherlock was once again completely in control of your body, forcing you to accept whatever pleasure he pushed onto you.

Someone could have entered the inn, looking for a place to stay, and you would not have known. Your husband could have long returned, and you would be none the wiser. He kissed you, a gentle action that was a far cry from his powerful thrusts, and you could taste your tears on his lips.

“I would have come running,” he suddenly whispered into your mouth. “The second I found out, I would have come for you.”

His eyes flitted between your terrified ones, and he continued.

“I would have made an honest woman out of you. I would have been by your side every step of the way.”

You shook your head, not wanting to hear what could have been.

“I would have loved to see you round and swollen with my daughter, but this is our second chance.”

You came around him before he soon followed, coating your insides with a groan, lips furiously covering your own. You were so conflicted. Your body felt more satisfied than it had been in a year, heart swelling at the thought of getting the future you really wanted, but you were so angry with him, angry with what he had just done to you.

You hit at him the minute he pulled out of you, sitting up and taking you with him. It was as if your hits did not phase him at all, and he merely shushed you, wrapping his arms around you as he pulled you into his chest.

“I will do the talking,” he started, pressing his lips into your hair, ignoring the way you cried and shook in his hold. “I will explain to him that I am taking back what is mine, and I will walk out of here with you and our daughter at my side, right where you belong.”

tags: @darkficreposter @xoxabs88xox @harryspet @readermia @opheliadawnwalker3 @nickyl316h @captainchrisstan @sebabestianstan101 @villanellevi @lokislastlove @notyourtypicalrose @coconutqueen21 @hurricanerin @trinittyy @hyoyeoniie @kellyn1604 @sherrybaby14 @cocoamoonmalfoy @mandiiblanche @gotnofucks @oneoftheprettynerds @doozywoozy @sapphirescrolls @threeminutesoflife @searchforanotherway

#dark!sherlock holmes #dark sherlock holmes #Dark Fic #sherlock x reader #Sherlock Holmes x Reader #Sherlock Holmes #henry cavill

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calpalirwin · 4 years ago

Text

(Don’t) Leave Me in the Dark

Summary: When Bucky gets turned into the Winter Soldier, Steve has a plan for dragging his old friend out of the darkness: you.

A/N: Heavily inspired by Repeat by Luke Hemmings.

Word Count: 8.1k

And away, and away we go!

1943

Y/N’s eyes watched the crowd, flickering from person to person. Studying. Observing. And yes, maybe even ogling as her gaze locked in on two men in particular: a tall, strapping brunette in a sergeant’s uniform, and a scrawny blonde man with a stance designed to make him appear bigger than he actually was.

“You can do more than just look, you know,” a voice said in her ear, making her jump slightly.

“Stark,” she scolded with a soft giggle. “I’m working.”

“So am I. It’s called mixing business with pleasure. And there’s no harm in it. Especially when they look as good as that one.” Howard shot the woman a wink, jerking with his chin towards the soldier she couldn’t stop staring at. “A sergeant, too? A girl’s got taste.”

“I was actually looking at his friend,” Y/N half-lied.

Howard snorted, not believing the lie for a single second. “Oh really?”

She straightened her shoulders. “Yes, really. He’d be a perfect candidate.”

“You SHIELD agents are all the same. Always plotting and planning, and never enjoying,” he told you with a roll of his eyes. “Gentlemen!” he then called out loudly, grabbing the mens’ attention, the blonde pointing a finger at himself. “Yes, you two right there! Come take a gander at all that Stark Industries has to offer.”

Y/N’s eyes went wide as the men approached, and she could have killed Howard right then and there, but the men were growing closer, and oh! the brunette’s eyes were such a pretty shade of blue as they drank her in. “And would you be talking about the newest technology for the war, or the dames, Stark?” the soldier asked with a laugh, his stare still fixated on Y/N.

“She’s not one of mine,” Howard told him. “Which is unfortunate because Y/N is as smart as they come. Which is why SHIELD got their hands on her before I did.”

“SHIELD,” the blonde said. “That’s the government agency, yes?”

“That would be us, yes,” Y/N answered. “Interested in joining? We could use someone like you.”

“Really?” he questioned at the same time his friend let out a bark of laughter.

“Yes, really,” she said, ignoring the brunette. “If contributing to the war effort is something that’s important to you.”

“Oh, it’s important to both of us,” the sergeant told her.

“Yes, and it would seem that one of you has already managed to make their contribution, soldier,” she said, eyeing his uniform purposefully.

“It’s Sergeant,” he corrected. “Sergeant James B. Barnes, if you want specifics. But if you’re lucky, I’ll let you call me ‘Bucky’.”

“Y/N Y/L/N,” she provided in turn, shifting her attention back to blonde. “And you?”

“Steve. Steve Rogers.”

“Give SHIELD a call, Rogers. I promise it’ll be worth your while. Mention Operation Rebirth when you do.”

“Yes ma’am. Thank you,” Steve said with a smile.

“Of course. Gentlemen,” Y/N gave a small nod to both Howard and Steve before turning to Bucky. “Bucky. Enjoy the rest of your evening.” With that, she walked off leaving Steve happy with his hopeful opportunity to at long-last join the war effort, Howard shaking his head at her antics, and Bucky completely in over his head about her.

~~~

1944

Y/N frowned as she looked over the debriefing. “So not only does Hydra have it’s hands on the same serum we created, they also are using it on POWs? Essentially turning our own men against us? Is that what you’re telling me?” she demanded, her voice sharp as she waved the folder in her hand.

“Yes, ma’am,” the agent told her, nodding their head, eyes wide with fear.

She slammed the folder on her desk. “So who’s going in to get our men back?”

“N-no one ma’am. General said it’s too dangerous. Waste of resources.”

“Well you tell the General that he c-”

Her threat got cut off by a new voice. “What do you mean the 107th got captured a month ago?! Do we know where their location is?!”

The voice sounded vaguely familiar, but Y/N couldn’t quite place it. The voice that answered the man, however, she could place. “Yes, we have their location. However-” Peggy Carter spoke.

“However what?” the man asked. “You’re not staging a rescue mission? Those are our men!”

“You want me to tell the General what, ma’am?” the agent still standing in front of Y/N piped up awkwardly.

Y/N waved her hand at the agent in frustration. “You’re dismissed,” she told them before shouldering past and out the tent.

Sure enough, just outside the tent stood Peggy Carter and a tall blonde man, a wooden shield hanging off his arm. “Ah, Y/N,” Peggy smiled. “Might I introduce you to Captain America?”

Y/N looked up at the man, him both familiar and a stranger. He regarded her with the same look of confused recognition. “Steve,” he said, extending his hand to her. “Pleasure to meet you, Y/N.”

“Steve, Steve Rogers, Steve?” she asked, shaking his hand. “Scrawny kid from Brooklyn, Steve?”

Steve gave a slightly embarrassed chuckle. “The one and only.”

Y/N shot Peggy an excited look. “The serum worked?!”

“I knew your name seemed familiar!” Steve beamed, now understanding how he felt that he knew the woman. “Thanks for the recommendation.”

“I’m glad it worked!” Then, the excitement vanished as she remembered the folder in her hand. If their serum worked, then that meant… “Oh, no… Peggy, I need to talk to you. It’s urgent.”

Peggy raised an eyebrow in silent question, her eyes flickering to the folder. “Oh, yes. I wanted to talk to you about that as well.”

“They have our men. Why isn’t the General sending in a rescue squad?”

“Which men?” Steve asked.

Y/N opened the folder, running her finger down the document, rattling off a couple of squadrons, “... 107th Infantry Regiment…”

“That’s Bucky!” Steve interrupted. “That’s Bucky’s unit.”

“Your friend,” Y/N recalled. “The brunette who’s too good-looking for his own good?”

Steve spared a wry smile, “That’d be him.”

“Why isn’t the General sending in a rescue squad?” Y/N asked Peggy again. “Do you know how dangerous this could be? How much it compromises all the work we’ve done?”

“Yes, Y/N, I’m aware. The General however-”

“The General doesn’t know his left from his right!”

Peggy sighed. “He can’t spare the men.”

“So what do we do then?”

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. We’re getting a team of SHIELD agents to rescue the POWs at a known Hydra base nearby.”

“This nearby Hydra base that contains the 107th?” Steve asked.

“Yes,” both women told him.

“I want in.”

It took two weeks for the plan to come to fruition. Armed with volunteers hellbent on revenge and a handful of SHIELD agents, Steve led the group in infiltrating the Hydra base. It was a mission with two prongs. Prong one involved Steve and the soldiers locating the POWs and getting them out. Prong two involved the SHIELD agents destroying any and all progress Hydra was making with the serum.

Y/N and Peggy waited back at a basecamp they had set up closer to the Hydra base without drawing unwanted attention. “Oh, would you stop with the incessant tapping of your foot?” Peggy asked in an exasperated tone. “They’ll be back when they get back.”

“There’s too many unknowns,” Y/N answered, moving to picking at her fingernails.

“Mmm, and these nerves would have nothing to do about seeing Steve’s friend again, would they?”

“No…?” Y/N said slowly. “What does Steve’s friend have to do with any of this? Where’d you get that idea from?”

“Steve. He mentioned the story of you meeting the both of them in New York. Something about an unknown potential between you and the sergeant.”

“Mmm, and we’re growing close to Steve, are we?” Y/N returned the teasing.

“Steve and I are merely work acquaintances. Much like how you and I are.”

“Tell that to Steve. He fancies you something awful.”

While Peggy and Y/N continued to tease each other about Bucky and Steve, the men were on their way back, having a similar conversation of their own.

“So… how did you become this?” Bucky had to ask, sweeping a hand up and down Steve. “A year apart, and you go and have a growth spurt on me?”

Steve chuckled. “Uh, do you remember Y/N from New York? The woman with Stark who told me to talk to SHIELD?”

“You mean the bombshell dame that I should have asked to dance? Oh, yeah,” Bucky smiled dreamily.

Steve chuckled more. “Well, her telling me to go to SHIELD turned me into this. An experimental serum to create the perfect soldier. And I guess it worked, because here I am.”

“Mmm, is there where you crush my spirits and say that you took Y/N dancing? I mean, surely if you caught her eye when you were the scrawny kid from Brooklyn…”

“No,” Steve said with a shake of his head. “Plus, I think she was only interested in me because of the experiment. And my eyes are on someone else. A different SHIELD agent.”

“Oh?” Bucky grinned, nudging his shoulder into Steve. “Look at you! A little serum, and suddenly you’re a ladies man. You’re all grown up.”

“And you’re still the same, I see,” Steve laughed.

Bucky laughed along with Steve, but the laugh didn’t hold the same trace of humor. “Yeah… So, tell me about this new lady.”

“Peggy. She’s wonderful. Smart. Fierce. And she’s here. Y/N is too.”

“Y/N’s here?”

“Yeah. A lot of SHIELD agents are. I was a little surprised to see her myself. I mean, I only saw her that night in New York, same as you. I almost didn’t recognize her at first. I’m shocked she remembered me at all.”

“She’s here?” Bucky repeated.

“Yes,” Steve nodded. Then, “And yes, she still looks like she’s available. So if you wanted to ask her for that dance, now would be your chance.”

Bucky gave a shy scoff of a laugh, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I dunno about all that.”

“I thought you wanted to dance with her?”

“I do! But… Look, there’s a reason I didn’t ask her in New York. I was leaving for here. I didn’t want to risk either of us getting attached, and then something happening to me. I mean, imagine if I had asked her to dance, and we started exchanging letters, and then she stopped hearing from me. I couldn’t do that to her.”

“So, you were going to hope that when the war’s over you’d be able to find her?”

“Yeah. A girl like that deserves stability, Steve. No matter how badly I might wanna share a dance or two with her.”

“Well, you can tell her all that yourself if you like,” Steve told him, nodding his head in the direction of a camp coming into view. “Cause she’s here, here.”

Bucky’s eyes went wide. “No! And you don’t tell her either, you understand me?! I’ll tell her when I’m ready. When the time’s right.”

Steve gave a roll of his eyes. “Whatever you say, Buck.”

“Steve?” Peggy asked, rising from her seat, hearing the voices as they drew closer. “Y/N, I think they’re here.”

With a sigh, Y/N also stood up, following Peggy out of the tent, watching a large group of men walking up, Bucky and Steve in the front. “You did it,” Peggy told Steve proudly.

“Of course,” Steve smiled. “Peggy, this is Buck. Buck, this is Agent Carter. And I think you’ll remember Y/N.”

“Hi,” Bucky said, his voice growing shy as he offered both women a small wave. “Good to see you again, Y/N.”

“Likewise,” she replied, taking note of his appearance: battered uniform, a slightly haunted look still lingering in his crystal blue eyes, scruff decorating his jaw, disheveled hair, a dirty face, and a scratch just under one of his eyes. A seemingly out of place scratch that set alarms off in her head. “Would you mind coming with me?”

“Me? With you?” he asked, waving a finger between them.

“That’s what I said, yes. We need to get you examined.”

His eyes widened for the briefest second as he swallowed thickly. “You can just point me in the direction of the nurses’ tent. You don’t-” he stammered.

“Our nurses are going to be swamped checking over all the other men,” she explained. “And if you’re worried about my own nursing skills, I assure you that I’ve picked up on a few things during my time here.”

“It’s true,” Peggy confirmed. “Y/N actually might be better than some of the nurses on our staff.”

“Uh…” Bucky continued to stammer, uncertain of what to do.

Y/N started walking off, pausing when she didn’t hear the sound of boots following after. “Bucky?” she asked, looking back at him over her shoulder. “You coming?”

He gave a shake of his head to clear it. “Yeah. Yeah.”

Silently they trekked through the camp, past the nurses station crowded with soldiers waiting to be seen, and into a smaller tent that held a cot made up neatly, and a desk with a chair behind it. “Have a seat,” Y/N directed, motioning towards the cot. As Bucky took a seat, Y/N pulled a first aid kit out of a desk drawer, before dragging the chair over to the cot. “I’m aware that I’m about to ask you some difficult questions, but I need you to be honest with me. Can you do that?” she asked as she sat down, opening the kit in her lap.

“I think so?”

“How’d you get this scratch?” She wiped an alcoholic pad across it, creating a patch of clean skin on his otherwise dirty face.

He shrugged. “It’s just a scratch.”

“Lying to me already?”

“I’m not lying!” he snapped.

“Then tell me how you got the scratch. And don’t tell me a guard hit you because we know that’s a lie. That’s an abrasion mark. Like you scraped it against something. So how’d you manage to scrap your face against something?”

His mouth pinched, the look in his eyes growing more haunted. “I don’t wanna talk about it…”he muttered.

“It wasn’t normal torture, was it? Did they experiment on you?”

“I said I don’t wanna talk about it!” he snapped again, his tone carrying a hard edge.

“I know you don’t want to. But I need you to. It’s important that you tell me everything that happened,” she said, keeping her voice calm and controlled.

He screwed his eyes shut tight, clenching his hands into fists. “They injected us with something…” the words started to spill in a rapid rush. “It made some of us stronger… And others… It was painful… Like facing a firing squad would hurt less. The screaming… And we couldn’t see what was happening. They’d strap us in these chairs like at the dentist, and then they’d put these things over our faces. And then there was more pain. Like getting electrocuted. They’d do it for days. You never knew which day was yours. The screams never stopped. God, I just want it to stop!” His eyes snapped open, his chest heaving, body trembling, tear tracks down his cheeks. “What did they do to me?” he asked, his voice a broken, hoarse whisper.

“They turned you into a super soldier.”

“A what?”

“It’s an experimental procedure. It’s what we did to Steve. It’s designed to make you faster and stronger. Harder to kill.”

“You tortured Steve?!” The hard edge was back in his tone, almost murderous.

“No! Steve only got the serum. And it was painful, the way it changes your body on a molecular level. But we don’t brainwash our soldiers with electrocution afterwards.”

“So why did they electrocute us? If it's the same experiment?”

“Your guess is as good as mine. But I’d say it has something to do with stripping away your humanity. Turning you into an obedient killing machine. Nobody wants a soldier who questions orders, right? Hydra… they somehow learned about Operation Rebirth, which is our program for creating super soldiers. We wanted it to give ourselves a competitive edge in the war, and cut down on our own casualties. But Hydra just wants the competitive edge, no matter the cost to human life. They want the perfect, undefeatable army.”

“But why us? Why me?”

“Why not you and other POWs? Better for them to risk enemy lives than the lives of their own soldiers.”

“It’s not right…”

“Nobody said it was. And you have my deepest condolences for what you and your men have suffered through.”

“I don’t want your condolences!”

“What do you want?”

“To murder every one of those bastards for what they did to me.”

“Then it looks like we’re on the same side.”

~~~

1945

It took another year for the team to gather more intel on Hydra’s plans for the super soldier serum. A year of small missions led by Steve and Bucky with their own small squadron of soldiers. A year of Peggy and Y/N pouring over debriefings, fitting together as many pieces of the puzzle as they could. A year of Y/N listening to Bucky wake up in the middle of the night, struggling to catch his breath as his mind forced him to relive his days in captivity. A year of feeling the tug to leave her tent for his, to provide any sort of comfort for him she could, but ultimately always deciding against it. Instead, she’d seek him out in the mornings, offering him a small smile as if to offer congratulations for surviving another night with his demons.

Bucky grew to live for those morning smiles. Lived for the way that Y/N could go from demanding SHIELD agent who could strike fear in the hearts of war-hardened soldiers, to a woman with a soft laugh he swore was only reserved for conversations with him. He reveled in the fact that she grew comfortable enough around him to feel like she could drop the hard facade she gave everyone else. As if around him, she didn’t feel like she had to prove herself like she did around the other men.

“So defeat Red Skull. Should be a simple enough mission, eh, Buck?” Steve joked during a debriefing meeting.

“Piece of cake,” Bucky answered, brushing imaginary dirt off his shoulder.

“No,” Y/N cut in. “The mission is to defeat Hydra. Defeating Red Skull is just a piece of it. An important piece. But a piece all the same.”

“But kill the head of the organization, and the rest will fall,” Bucky told her.

She rolled her eyes. “You know what Hydra is, right? The monster from Greek myths?”

“Yeah, it’s the snake with multiple heads. Everyone knows what a Hydra is.”

She rolled her eyes more. “So you know that it’s not as simple as just killing the head of the organization? After all, kill the head, two more grow in its place. Hence, Red Skull only being a piece. You have to take down the whole monster, not just its head.”

“Okay, okay,” Bucky said, waving his hand dismissively. “So, we go in to defeat Hydra once and for all. When do we leave?”

“Captain Rogers, you, and your team leave at dawn,” Peggy told him, a finger pointing at a map. “You catch the train here. It’ll lead you straight to Hydra.”

“That’s a mountain…” Bucky pointed out the obvious flaw in the plan.

“How else are you supposed to catch a Hydra train? Buy a ticket?” Y/N asked him, tone heavy with rhetoric.

Bucky looked at Steve with raised eyebrows. “So we’re gonna catch a train on a mountainside, huh?”

“Easy, right?”

“Piece of cake. Anything else?”

“No, that’s all,” Peggy told them.

“Oh!” Y/N said, suddenly thinking of something. “Actually yes. One last thing.” She got up to grab a suitcase, setting it down on the table and opening it, revealing small devices inside.

“What are those?” the other three asked her.

“Trackers. In the event anything happens. Make sure each of your men is equipped with one. You just slide it on like a bracelet and hit this button right here,” she demonstrated. “And then I can see your location here,” she pointed at a monitor screen that showed a green light blinking steadily. She turned off the tracker and the blinking went dead on the monitor. “The Navy’s been a great help with their radar technology. And Stark of course.”

“Of course,” the other three said.

Y/N snapped the suitcase shut, handing it to Steve. “Don’t forget.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Now go get your rest. It’s gonna be a long mission.”

In the morning, Peggy and Y/N were up to see the men off. While Peggy and Steve had their own hushed farewell, Y/N stood facing Bucky, her arms crossed over her chest. “Be safe, James.”

“Oh, I’m ‘James’ now?” he asked with a bemused smile. “What did I do to warrant that?”

“Bucky!” she said, her cheeks flushing. “I meant to say ‘Bucky’.”

His eyes flickered around, noting how close the other men were. “Whatever you say, Agent Y/L/N.”

“Sergeant Barnes,” she said, her nostrils flaring.

He raised his hands in surrender. “Okay, I don’t like that one. Not from you. ‘James’ I can make an exception for. But I still prefer when you call me ‘Bucky’.”

“Just… be safe, okay?”

He nodded, giving her a mock salute and a cheeky wink.

Y/N rolled her eyes playfully, watching as Bucky joined Steve, and the team rolled out. Once they were out of her line of sight, she turned into her tent, pulling out the monitor screen for the trackers, watching the green lights come blinking to life.

While her energy could have been better spent on other tasks, she couldn’t bring herself to do anything besides watch the steady blinking, a calm reassurance that all the men were exactly where they were supposed to be.

As expected, as the mission went forward, some of the trackers didn’t move forward with the rest. Each one felt like someone had stabbed Y/N with a knife, and her only hope was that it wasn’t Bucky or Steve.

One tracker however caught her attention. It stayed behind while the others went forward. But then, it stopped blinking.

Y/N quickly jotted down the coordinates of where it had been blinking, drawing a small star next to it. She also jotted down the other coordinates of the trackers that stayed behind. But the one that went dark made the small hairs on the back of her neck stand up. She didn’t like that it was the only one that stopped blinking.

Hours ticked by. More coordinates were jotted down. Then, a cluster of the trackers stayed together while one continued onward, and her heart dropped to her stomach, knowing that nothing about that could be good.

At that moment, Peggy came barging into her tent, radio in hand. “Steve, where are you?”

“All I see is ocean,” came the garbled radio response. “This plane’s going down. Let’s get a raincheck on that date?”

Peggy’s eyes looked at Y/N frantically, and the other woman pointed a finger at the monitor, tracking who she assumed to be Steve, as it was the only light still moving on the screen. “We have your coordinates. We’re sending someone to get you. Stay put,” Peggy told Steve.

“It’s hard to stay put when I’m crashing.”

Static crackled through the radio. “Steve?” Peggy asked. “Steve, do you copy? Y/N, where is he?!”

“There, he’s there!” Y/N told the other woman, following the blinking light with her finger. “Have the Navy pick him up.”

Peggy watched the monitor over Y/N’s shoulder while she called into the radio for someone to send Steve’s location to the Navy. “And which are these?” she asked, pointing at the cluster of blinking lights.

“That’s the Hydra base. So we need to send someone to go get the survivors.”

“Yes, and these?” Peggy’s finger moved to the spattering of random locations of blinking lights.

“Bodies to pick up. Peggy, was Bucky with him?”

“I don’t know. Why?”

“One of the lights. It dropped off in the mountains. But then the tracker went dead. It’s the only one that went dead.”

“And what does that mean? The tracker broke?”

“Or someone broke it. None of the others went dead. The tracker stayed blinking in the same spot, but it stayed on the map. All but that one. Something about it feels off to me.”

“We’ll figure it out after we get the team back.”

It was a long, and tense wait for Steve and the survivors of the team to make it back, Y/N scanning around for Bucky. “Where is he?” she demanded, pulling Steve aside.

“Hello to you too, Y/N.”

“Hi, Steve. Glad you’re back after your nice swim in the Atlantic. Where’s Bucky?”

Steve swallowed, lowering his head.

“Steve…” she whispered, tears stinging her eyes. “Where is he?”

“Let’s go talk,” was all he said, ushering her into a tent where they’d have more privacy.

“Just tell me if he’s dead or not,” she said, her voice cracking as she crossed her arms.

“I don’t know…”

“How do you not know?”

“I mean, I don’t know. On the train. It was a set up. Hydra was waiting for us. There was a fight. I tried to grab him, but he slipped.”

The blinking light that went dead in the mountains. “Steve…”

“I tried, Y/N. I tried to keep him safe. But he just slipped. And I dunno how anyone could survive a fall from that high up. You’d have to be super human or something.”

“The serum.”

“I’m sorry?”

“The serum!” she said again, hope rising in her voice. “Steve, the serum!”

“What about it?”

“Bucky has it! It’s in him like it’s in you!”

“He’s a super soldier?!”

“Yes! It happened when his unit got captured last year.”

“So he could have survived?!”

“He could have survived!”

“Well, where’s the tracker?! Let’s go!”

Y/N frowned.

“What? What is it?”

“The only tracker that stayed in the mountains went dead two minutes after your team went forward. It’s the only tracker that went off the radar.”

“We were pretty high up. Is it possible it just broke?”

“Let’s hope so.”

Two hours later, Peggy, Steve, and Y/N trekked through the snow in search of any signs of Bucky. Thousands of feet up in the air, Y/N could make out the train track. “I don’t get it,” she grumbled, her boot kicking at a patch of snow. “The coordinates are right here. So where is he?”

“Uh… Y/N?” Steve said, holding up two pieces of a black bracelet.

“My tracker…” she mourned the two broken pieces.

“But look at how it’s broken. It’s like someone snapped it in half. Buck wouldn’t have done that.”

“But whoever took him would,” Y/N said.

“But who took him?”

“I’ll give you two guesses.”

“But Hydra’s done. We won,” Steve said, not understanding.

Y/N shook her head, kicking at more snow as tears started to slide down her cheeks. “You said you were ambushed right? That they knew you were coming?”

“Yeah…”

“Steve, Hydra is more than just the Nazis. It’s everyone that opposes SHIELD. How many enemies besides the Nazis does America have?”

“So Buck could be anywhere?”

“Yes, and once news breaks of your mission, and with the war itself starting to end, any of the remaining Hydra heads are going to lay low.”

“And we can’t find Buck until we find Hydra. If he survives.”

“He’s a super soldier. If he managed to survive that fall, I’m sure Hydra will want to keep him alive as long as they can. Turn him into an asset they can exploit. Provided he doesn’t cause them any trouble.”

“Oh, it’s Buck. All he does is cause trouble,” Steve chuckled humorlessly before sighing. “I don’t know which reality I wanna live in. One where he’s dead. Or one where he's missing, and I don’t know how or when I’ll find him, or what he’ll be when I do.”

“I know,” she nodded, more tears falling down her face. “But at least when I believe he’s alive, there’s hope. And I need that hope, Steve.”

Steve pulled her in for a tight hug. Steve wanted to give her more reassurance, to tell her the truth about how Bucky felt about her, but he decided against it, understanding finally why Bucky had never said anything himself. He couldn’t bear the idea of breaking her heart more than it was already breaking. Likewise, Y/N wanted to give Steve his own reassurance. For him to know how much her heart was breaking for him because she knew how much Bucky meant to him, because he had meant just as much to her. But instead, she sniffled into Steve’s chest, his own tears dropping into her hair while he whispered, “We’ll find him. Somehow. We’ll find him,” on a loop as he held her to him, both of them mourning their friend.

~~~

1953

“Y/N!” Steve said loudly as he burst into the woman’s office, a wide grin on the captain’s face. “You’re gonna love me.”

“I think your wife might have a problem with that,” she teased, barely looking up from her work to acknowledge her friend.

He placed a folder down on her desk. “Just look at this, will you?”

She opened the folder, giving it a look through. “Hydra intel? Now that’s a name I haven’t heard in a while.”

“Yep. They’re still staying low. Taking advantage of civil uprisings to eliminate threats to their cause.”

“Well, that’s certainly one way to go about being undetected. Where do we come in?”

“We’re the next threat. Or at least, Washington D.C. is. You in?”

“Who’s the team?”

“Right now? Just me.”

“Rogers…”

He raised his hands. “I know it sounds bad. But, a lot of people aren’t willing to believe Hydra’s behind the attacks. So it’s not an official mission we have any clearance on.”

Y/N waved the folder. “So this isn’t an official report? What is this then?”

“My own personal research,” he said with a sheepish grin.

“Rogers…”

“Look, I can’t explain it. I just have a feeling that I’m right.”

“So you want my help staking out the meeting at Capitol Hill next week on the feeling that Hydra might be plotting something?”

“Yes. You in?”

“You better not be wrong.”

A week later, Steve and Y/N stood watch, both of them silently hoping he was wrong, but also hoping he was right. For the first half hour, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. The lull into the false sense of security before the sound of a bomb went off, sending everyone into panic mode.

Y/N crouched down, eyes scanning around for anything that didn’t fit the pattern of how a terrified citizen would act. “You see anything?” she spoke into her earpiece.

“There!” Steve’s voice shouted in her ear. “Long hair. Mask. Metal arm. Gun,” he rattled off the details.

“Location?!”

“Headed your way. Run!”

Y/N took off, eyes on the lookout for whoever Steve had described. “Run! Move!” she shouted as she pushed people aside. Gunfire rang out, and she felt a sharp white-hot pain in her chest as she took cover behind a car, her heartbeat drumming loudly in her ears. Applying pressure to the wound, she looked around for the shooter, hoping Steve was on his way to her.

She turned her head to the sound of a gun cocking, eyes going wide with fear as she spotted the person Steve had described, gun pointed her way.

She held her breath as the man took aim, then changed his mind as Steve came charging at him. With his metal arm, he threw a punch at Steve, who quickly threw up his shield to block it, the sound of metal hitting metal creating a loud clanking sound. Quickly, the man pushed the shield aside, kicking Steve in the chest, the action causing both men to fall backwards.

Y/N watched from her vantage point as the shooter pulled up his gun, shooting a rapid succession at Steve who curled up behind his shield, the bullets ricocheting off. Steve took advantage of the man pausing to reload to draw in closer. The shooter got in more shots, before Steve roundhouse kicked the gun free. Not missing a beat, the shooter pulled out another gun, firing off more shots that got deflected by the shield.

In another brief pause, Steve took a swing that the shooter dodged. Steve immediately came up swinging with the shield, which the shooter grabbed easily, both men trying to punch each other around it. Annoyed, the shooter grabbed onto the shield with his other hand, giving a sharp twist, flipping both Steve and the shield, leaving Steve defenseless. Y/N gasped, knowing she needed to get moving and help. “C’mon, c’mon,” she hissed, pressing her palm firmer into her wound, wishing she had a way to hold her shirt in place as a makeshift bandage.

Not caring, Steve raised his fists, both of them going back to exchanging blows until the metal arm connected solidly into his chest, knocking him backwards. Steve quickly rolled back to his feet before charging at the masked man again, who launched the shield. Steve twisted out of the way, the shield embedding itself into a car right behind him. Steve kept running, as his opponent freed a knife from his side, slashing at Steve’s punches. One of Steve’s punches got the man straight in the jaw. As the man grunted from the impact, Steve jumped to deliver a kick to the chest, knocking the assailant backwards. Wasting no time, Steve went in for another kick, his foot connecting again.

The blows however, did little to stop the other man as he came back at Steve. He threw a punch with the nonmetal arm that Steve grabbed onto and flipped the man onto his back. But in a swift blur, the man got up, the metal hand gripping tightly around Steve’s throat before throwing him.

Steve fell to the ground, gasping for air as the man kept coming. A punch that Steve narrowly missed shattered the asphalt. Somehow Steve got to his feet as his attacker pulled out another knife. Punches and knife slashes were deflected, as Steve lured the man closer to free his shield that was still lodged in the car.

Freeing the shield, Steve brought it in between where metal met flesh at the man’s shoulder, trying to cut the metal arm loose. When that didn’t work, Steve flipped the man in a backwards somersault, his mask clattering to the ground.

Everything froze for a terrible second, Steve’s chest heaving with exertion as the shooter rose to his feet, turning to face Steve. The captain’s eyebrows pulled together in stunned confusion, recognizing his opponent instantly. “Bucky?” he whispered, not sure if he wanted to believe what he was seeing.

Y/N decided it was now or never to provide Steve with much needed backup. Without being able to take pressure off her wound, she decided her only option was to somehow kick Bucky from behind. But she first had to get up somewhere high enough to land a kick where it would do the most damage. With a grunt and her free hand, she pulled herself up onto the roof of the car she’d been taking cover behind, Bucky right below her.

“Who the hell is Bucky?” the man asked, pulling a gun on Steve and taking aim. He was about to pull the trigger when Y/N jumped, kicking Bucky in the back of the head as she came down almost directly on top of him.

Bucky fell forward, rolling to his feet as Y/N landed on hers, preparing for him to turn his attention to her. Instead though, he kept his attention on Steve, scared confusion on his face. He pulled a grenade free, throwing it at Steve, and while both Steve and Y/N crouched to cover themselves with the small explosion, Bucky used the distraction to disappear.

“I knew it,” was all Y/N could say as she winced from the pain.

Steve rushed over to her, eyes full of worry as they took in the gunshot. “We should get that checked out.”

“And figure out how to get our Bucky back. Steve, that was exactly what I feared was going to happen when we didn’t find him.”

“I know. I know.”

“How though? Steve… he was only with Hydra a month before you rescued him last time. And it was bad. I don’t know how much you saw compared to what I did. But it wasn’t good. He had nightmares right up until you guys left for that last mission. A month had that kind of effect on him. Now we’re up against eight years. How do we bring him back from this?”

“What stopped me from becoming that?”

“The fact that we didn’t brainwash you of your humanity.”

“So, all we gotta do is tap into that humanity. I mean, did you see how he stopped once I realized it was him?”

“You mean how he threw a grenade at your head? How he shot me?”

“His humanity is still there, Y/N. We just have to get to it.”

“How?!”

“By using you.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

Steve sighed. “I was never supposed to be the one to tell you this. He was. But Bucky liked you from the minute he met you. But he was adamant about not telling you he did until the war was over. Because he couldn’t bear the idea of something happening to him and it breaking your heart. He wanted to make sure he was safe first, able to give you stability in not worrying about him.”

“Well, he’s a fool, because I worried about him and my heart broke anyway.”

“He meant well. But, because of how he felt about you, I think you’re the answer to bringing him back.”

“How though, Steve? He looked right at me, and still tried to shoot me again.”

Steve sighed again. “You might hate me for this suggestion. But kiss him.”

“You want me to kiss the man who just tried to kill us both? Are you insane?!”

“It could work.”

“Like some fairytale? True love’s kiss breaks the spell? Only in this case the spell is eight years of brainwashing him into an obedient assassin?”

“Yeah, basically,” Steve nodded.

She threw up her hands in exasperation. “I thought we were friends, and here you are telling me to kiss the assassin who shot me, Rogers! Are you trying to get me killed?!”

“I’m only saying it might be our best bet at getting our Bucky back. But, if you’re not up for it, I understand. It’s a huge risk.”

She narrowed her eyes. “If I die kissing Bucky, I will haunt you for the rest of your days, Rogers,” she threatened.

Steve flashed her a charming smile. “I’ve been reliably informed that dying kissing Buck would be a heavenly way to go.”

It would take awhile to get Operation Fairytale going, as Y/N healed from her gunshot wound and Hydra had the smarts to go back to laying low.

All in all, it took about two months before Steve was bursting back into Y/N’s office with a wide smile. “Find him?” was all she asked.

“Yep,” Steve said, grinning wider. “You ready?”

“Let’s go.”

As they traveled to where Steve claimed he had found Bucky, he reminded her of what she was to do. “Keep your distance. You don’t wanna be on the receiving end of his regular arm, much less his metal one. But you have to get close enough at the same time. Something about using his name will start to draw him out, so use it a lot. Then you can probably get close enough to where he won’t actively want to hurt you.”

She nodded. “But you’ll be close by if your hunch doesn’t work?”

“As close as I can without tipping him off that I’m there, yes.”

“This plan is insane, you know that, right?”

“Why do you think it’s just me and you?”

She sighed, closing her eyes and taking a slow breath to steady herself. “Just don’t let me die, yeah?”

“That’s part of the plan.”

“Love that confidence…”

“Last chance to back out. I can try to tap into his humanity on my own. I already did it once. I just think you’d have a better chance at cracking into him than I do.”

“Just don’t let me die, Steve. Because one way or another we’re gonna get Bucky back. But if I die in the process, I don’t want it to have been for nothing.”

“That’s why keeping you alive is an important part of the plan.”

Both too soon and not soon enough, Y/N found herself face to face with Bucky. Well, face to back. “Bucky,” she called out, her voice soft and soothing. “Bucky, it’s Y/N. It’s me.”

The soldier turned, mask obscuring the lower half of his face, eyes cold blue steel as they regarded her. She silently cursed herself and Steve for forgetting about the mask. Another obstacle to figure a way around. “I don’t know who that is.”

“Yes, you do,” she said, taking a step forward. “You’re Bucky. And I’m Y/N. We know each other.”

“No, we don’t!” his voice rose, hands curling into fists at his sides.

Y/N dropped a hand to her side, ready to grab at her gun if she needed to. “I don’t want to fight you, Bucky. But I will if I have to.”

“Stop calling me that!”

“Bucky, Bucky, Bucky,” she taunted, fingers wrapping around the grip of her gun.

With a yell of frustration, Bucky advanced on her. In a swift motion, she freed the gun, firing off a few shots at him, stepping backwards as she did so.

He kept advancing, deflecting some of her shots with his metal arm, but one grazed across his ribs, causing him to hiss as blood splattered.

“I guess that makes us even?” she huffed as he stopped advancing, his fingers staining red as he brushed them against his wound, assessing the damage. “Stop now, and I won’t have to shoot you again.”

She couldn’t see the way his lips pulled aways from his teeth in a snarl, as he pulled a knife. Quickly he advanced, slashing out at her. “Really?!” she yelled angrily as she dodged and jumped backwards, trying to keep out of his arm’s reach. “You’re gonna try to stab me now, too?! James Buchanan Barnes!”

He gave an equally angry yell of his own, slashing at her faster with the knife. As he got within reach of her, she ducked down, sweeping out her leg to try and knock him off his feet. “It’s me, Bucky!” she screamed at him, each word a new attempt at a hit.

Whether it was her words finally getting to him or her taking an offensive position against him, Bucky stopped attacking back, putting all his efforts into blocking her blows. “Bucky!” she kept screaming, swiping at his face to knock off his mask. “You’re Bucky! Remember, damn it!”

“I don’t know who that is!” He grabbed her wrist in his hand before flinging her free, the strength sending her skiddering backwards.

“Yes, you do!” She lunged at him, tackling him to the ground, pinning his arms down with her knees. And knowing she had about a millisecond before he threw her off, she crushed her lips into his, putting as much emotion and power into it as possible.

A hand grabbed her shoulder and she braced herself for the impact of getting thrown like a ragdoll. But instead, the hand was pulling her in closer, Bucky’s lips moving to kiss her back. “Y/N,” he breathed against her mouth.

“It’s me. It’s me, Bucky,” she nodded, pulling away with a half laugh/half sob. “It’s me,” she repeated, sitting back on his chest.

“You shot me,” he coughed.

“You shot me first.”

“I didn’t know…” he told her, his breathing becoming erratic with fear and panic. “I didn’t know…”

“Shh, it’s okay,” she soothed, cupping his face in her hands and brushing at the tears that started to spill. “C’mon, let’s get you home.”

“Home,” he nodded as she climbed off of him and onto her feet, reaching a hand down to him. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

After a hesitant, then tearful reunion with Steve, Bucky recounted his time with Hydra as they all sat around Peggy and Steve’s house. Much like how his conversation had gone with Y/N when he recounted his first go at captivity, the words spilled out in a rush, his hands clenched tightly at his sides as he refused to meet anyone’s eye for too long.

“It was like the first time. But worse. As the serum worked with more of us, they had us start fighting each other. The electrocutions… They’d use this list of words to put us in this mindset where our only task is to cause hurt. Like complete mind control. And if we weren’t getting electrocuted, fighting each other, or doing their bidding, we were put in these states of sleep. It’s not an army they’re creating. They’re creating a new breed of assassins.”

“Well, they’re down one super assassin now,” Steve said, relief mixing with the deep concern of what Bucky’s news could mean for the future. “What happened to your arm? Was that them?”

Bucky shook his head. “No. Well… yes, but no. It happened when I was falling. I tried to grab anything to slow my fall, but I was going too fast. And then I was on my back in the snow. And then I wasn’t. And now I’m here.”

“You still wanna murder every last one them?” Y/N asked with a small smile.

Bucky raised his eyes to meet hers: haunted versus home. Slowly he nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I do. So, I guess that makes us on the same side?”

“We were always on the same side, Bucky.”

He looked down at his side that sported a bandage under his shirt. “Plus or minus a few details anyway.” He scanned his eyes around the small house. “You got a spare bedroom here, Steve? Or anywhere I can lay down for a bit? Pretty tired.”

Steve nodded, but it was Y/N who stood up. “C’mon, I’ll show you,” she said.

“Y/N, you can grab him some clothes out of my closet. I think Buck and I are finally the same size.”

Bucky and Steve shared a laugh, as Bucky followed Y/N through the house to a bedroom. Bucky sat down on the edge of the bed as Y/N rummaged around in drawers, pulling out a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt for the man. “Bathroom’s through that door,” she pointed, handing him the clothes.

“Thanks,” he said, taking the clothes and disappearing into the bathroom to change. “Um, can I ask you something?” he asked her through the door.

“Sure.”

“Would you mind staying with me? I- I don’t want to be alone…”

“Stay with you like sleep in the bed with you?”

“Well you don’t have to sleep if you’re not tired. But yeah. If you don’t mind.” As he pulled the bathroom door open, she could see the traces of fear lingering in his haunted look.

“Yeah, I’ll lay with you.”

“Thanks. And um…” he rubbed at the back of his neck sheepishly. “C-can the light stay on?”

“Of course, Bucky. Whatever you need.”

“Just you,” he mumbled under his breath, but she heard him anyway, both of their cheeks flushing.

“When you wake up, maybe we can go out for that dance,” she teased as she crawled under the covers with him.

“Only if I can kiss you afterwards.”

“Or you could kiss me now.”

His breath caught as his fingers hooked under her chin, guiding her in for a kiss. “Thank you for not leaving me,” he whispered.

“I could never leave you, Bucky.”

Tag List

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#(don't) leave me in the dark #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x reader #marvel #avengers #calpal irwin

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milkybonya · 4 years ago

Text

cheer up, buttercup!

order #001: large banana milk tea with pudding and grass jelly for Cha Eunwoo, requested by my lovely @daybreakx !

-> enemies to lovers! & college!Cha Eunwoo x (gn) reader

-> warnings: some angst and food mentions! also drinking/alcohol mentions and everyone is really mean to the reader >:0

-> where Eunwoo is the president of your department and you're the vice president. you work your hardest but always end up second to him.

[a/n]: i'm sorry for the CHAOS that this is and i feel like there is minimal (?) fluff but i hope you enjoYY THIS WAS FUN

You and Eunwoo had major beef. There wasn't even an event that started it all, but Eunwoo treated you with such disrespect from the start. And of course, anyone who disrespected you was on your list of... well, the closest thing to a list of enemies.

The first time you met him was in freshman year at the orientation before classes began. There was a basketball game going on and Eunwoo was playing. You watched from the sidelines in the shade, cheering him on at first because he was playing on behalf of your department.

Then, the ball flew in your direction. Eunwoo had tried to get the ball back for his team, but ended up accidentally throwing it towards you.

Luckily, it fell somewhere to your left, but it gave you such a fright that you stood up and started panting.

A few of the people who were playing rushed over to make sure you were okay, but Eunwoo didn't even throw a look your way.

"You, from our department? Just throw the ball back!" was all he said to you.

It made your blood boil.

Eunwoo was known for being a little blunt anyway, but he definitely went out of his way to grind your gears.

"Where is the president?" the social convenor asked.

You sighed, checking the time and noticing that Eunwoo was fifteen minutes late.

"If I knew where he was... If only I knew," you mumbled.

"Why is Eunwoo even the president, anyway?" another member of the student council asked.

"Because he's hot and cool and everyone likes him!" a girl squealed. You couldn't even remember what her position in the student council was, but judging by her comment, you realized that she must be here just for Eunwoo.

"He's absolutely dumb, does nothing all day yet somehow gets A's! Of course, why wouldn't he be the president?" your tone was dripping with sarcasm and your anger was almost about to overflow.

Until that man walked into the meeting room, at last.

"I'm dumb and do nothing all day? Why, thank you. I'm here, now," Eunwoo declared, strolling towards his seat. He had his black leather jacket slung over a shoulder.

God, I hate my life, you thought to yourself.

"That's what [y/n], said, but I don't think that way!" the girl who squealed earlier spoke.

"Thanks, Stacy."

Eunwoo only flashed her a quick smile before he sat back in his seat.

"So, what are we doing?"

"What do you mean, 'what are we doing'? We have an open house tomorrow and tons of high school students will be checking on our department! You're the president, you were supposed to-"

Eunwoo hushes you by raising up his hand from where it was resting on his thigh.

"It's all good, I've got it sorted."

He slammed down a notebook onto the table.

"I've taken notes on how open houses have been previously organized and have put them all in this book. I highlighted the events that seemed like they had a lot of potential, so look through those and decide on something, alright? I'll be off," Eunwoo explained, standing up.

"Where are you going?" you almost spat out at Eunwoo. He walks in here, makes a fool out of you and then decides to leave?

"To go 'be dumb and do nothing all day'. Isn't that what you said I do?"

He glared at you slightly before leaving the room.

"[y/n], you made Nunu so angry! Nunu, don't be mad, come back!" Stacy screamed, chasing after him.

You sighed, running your fingers through your hair.

"This idiot really thought I wouldn't know about the past open houses..."

You slam down the notebook that you had also brought.

"Damn... so he really just provided us some useless info and left?" the social convenor asks, shaking their head.

"Yeah, pretty much," you say.

So how did you and Eunwoo end up as vice president and president, anyway? Well, these positions were given to the students with the highest grades. Eunwoo had the highest, so he was given the title of president. You were trailing close behind, and were given the title of vice president.

You always told yourself that you should have been the president, and rightfully so! Eunwoo never did anything but play games on his phone, anyway.

When the open house event finally rolled around, you and Eunwoo were supposed to give a speech in a lecture hall to get the day started. It was mostly to welcome the high school students and lift the spirits of everyone there, not too big of a deal!

But still, big enough of a deal that Eunwoo should have shown up.

He didn't. And you were anything but surprised.

Forced to deliver your speech and somehow improvise along the way to make up for Eunwoo's missing presence, you were shocked to find that the audience started clapping right as you finished. It felt as though your hard work had paid off, and you stepped back, smiling at everyone in the crowd.

Until Eunwoo walked up to the mic, flashing a smile of his own and greeting everyone.

Yep, they had all been clapping for him, not for you.

Eunwoo turned and looked at you, mouthing, "did you prepare my script?"

"You were supposed to do that! Do I look like your secretary?"

Eunwoo scowled at you and turned to everyone who was seated. He ended up repeating a bunch of the same things that you had said and received an enthusiastic applause. You sighed from behind the curtains, wondering why Eunwoo always got the credit for all your hard work. It was probably his looks, but still.

Throughout the day, you walked around campus and ensured that everything was running smoothly. Eunwoo was supposed to be doing the same, you hoped, and you asked him this when you ran into him outside of the campus student centre.

"Have you been walking around like you were supposed to?"

"I'll deal with my business on my own," he said, almost scoffing at you. He was standing there scrolling through his phone.

"This isn't 'your business'? We're literally supposed to be working together!"

"Stop nagging me, [y/n]. I don't like it when you do that," he grumbled.

"Yeah, well I don't like you!" you yelled, storming away from him. You felt... very embarrassed. What kind of comeback was that? It sounded like something a child would say... oh, well.

You saw your friend handing out some goodies at a table outside and approached them.

"How's it going, vice president?" they asked you, handing you a snack.

"Terrible," you groaned, opening it and eating some.

"Why, what's up?"

"Cha Eunwoo is being a pain in the butt, as always," you sighed.

"You might want to watch what you say," your friend mumbled, pointing behind you.

You turned around a little too late as the snack in your hands was whisked away by Cha Eunwoo himself.

"You're the only pain in the butt here, [y/n]," he said, eating your snacks.

"What are you doing here?! You should be on the other side of campus!" you yelled.

"And you shouldn't be here, either," Eunwoo said with a glare.

"Can y'all go argue somewhere else? You're scaring the highschoolers away," your friend complained, nodding in the direction of some highschoolers who were hesitant to approach the snack stand because you and Eunwoo were arguing.

"Go attend to your duties, [y/n]," Eunwoo huffed, walking away from you.

You angrily stomped the ground, walking away and feeling a little embarrassed because you could feel the high schoolers watching you.

"[y/n], why won't you learn from Eunwoo a bit? I understand that he's the president and you're only the vice, but you could have at least prepared what we needed you to prepare!" the director of your department told you, shaking her head at you.

You tried to contain yourself and looked down as you rolled your eyes. The only reason Eunwoo was more prepared than you were today was because he had stolen what you prepared and claimed it was his instead.

"I understand, I'm sorry."

"You're at risk of getting your position taken away, [y/n]! This is a warning."

After leaving the director's office, you were met wih a grinning Eunwoo who was sat on the couches in the lobby.

"What are you looking at?" you asked him.

"Thanks for these papers, [y/n]," he said, holding up your hard work.

"I didn't even give them to you. You took them from me, but okay," you said, leaving him there.

You walked to a coffee shop that was on the same floor to get something to refresh yourself. Since it was so early in the morning on a weekend, the building was fairly quiet and empty. It wasn't hard to overhear a conversation.

"Eunwoo, I think [y/n] has not been taking their vice president duties seriously these days. Do you think we should find someone else?"

The director's voice.

"Do the other members of student council agree?"

Eunwoo's voice.

"I haven't spoken to them-"

"Then [y/n] remains as vice. I haven't seen any sort of slacking or a lack of seriousness from them, and I don't think anyone else is fit for the role."

Did Eunwoo just... compliment and defend you?

You turned around with your drink in hand to find that it was indeed Eunwoo talking with your director. Then, you quickly scurried away to avoid being seen by them, feeling very confused.

"Cheers!" everyone shouted around the table, clinking their glasses together before downing their contents. After a successful open house, everyone had gathered at a bar to celebrate. You squirmed in your spot beside Eunwoo, feeling uncomfortable. He rolled his eyes at you and shifted even closer to you, leaving you with less room to sit than before.

"Is that better?" he asked, smirking at you.

You frowned, pressing your foot on top of his clearly new shoes.

"Is that better?" you asked him.

"Why are you guys so close? Are you about to kiss or something?" one of the student council members asked.

"No! Ew-"

"And what if we did?" Eunwoo asked, glaring at the member.

What the hell?

The member looked down at their drink, unsure of what to say. The atmosphere grew awkwardly quiet until someone asked if everyone wanted more drinks, to which there were murmurs of agreement.

"Hey, [y/n], I overheard the director talking with you in her office today. Did she really threaten to kick you out as vice president?" the student council member next to you asked.

You laughed awkwardly, already feeling uncomfortable.

"Yeah... I'm working hard, though! So I'm sure it won't happen."

"Are you sure? You weren't able to prepare what the director asked you to, and there's been countless times where Eunwoo has always had to do things for you..."

You were in such shock. Everyone in student council knew that Eunwoo just acted like he was on top of everything, meanwhile you were doing all the work. Even for his grades, he never studied but was at the top because of all the people who handed him study notes and past tests to get his attention. You worked so hard...

"... I get that you're the vice president, but shouldn't you be trying a little harder? Hey... [y/n]? Are you crying?"

You couldn't help it... it had all been building up until now. You didn't even realize you were crying, though, until this guy pointed it out to you. His hand on your shoulder felt like it was suffocating you...

"What the hell have you been on about, you idiot?" Eunwoo growled from your right. You turned to him and he was glaring at the boy who had been talking to you.

"I-"

"Don't even talk. There's nothing but garbage coming out of your mouth. Come on, [y/n], let's go," Eunwoo said, grabbing your hand and guiding you out of there.

You were extremely confused, but more than anything, you were just sad. So you didn't stop Eunwoo when he led you outside of the bar.

"Is everything okay? Take some deep breaths." Eunwoo was staring right into your eyes as he spoke to you, reaching out his thumb to gently wipe your tears away.

"What's... going on?"

"That idiot was saying some useless garbage so I brought you out here. I can leave if you want to be alone-"

"No! No, please don't go," you begged, holding on tightly to his sleeve. You couldn't help it, you completely broke down and found yourself sobbing into his chest. What was weirder was that Eunwoo had his arms wrapped around you and was rubbing your back...

After you calmed done, Eunwoo insisted that he walk you back to your dorm.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" you asked him, sniffling quietly.

He threw his hands in his pockets and stared at the ground.

"I don't like it when people are mean to you, [y/n]," he said quietly.

"But you're mean to me all the time!" you pointed out.

"You're the one who started being mean to me!" Eunwoo whined.

You stopped walking.

"I started being mean to you? Eunwoo, you know you're the one who threw a basketball at me that day and never apologized, right?"

Eunwoo stared at the dark sky for a moment as he tried to remember what you were talking about. Then his eyes widened and he looked at you.

"Oh... I swear, there's an explanation-"

"There better be!"

"This is going to sound dumb but... I felt too shy to look at you... which is why I avoided you like that."

What? Eunwoo, the most cocky and arrogant president you know, was shy?

"Why in the world were you shy, Eunwoo?"

It wasn't just the slight breeze in the air that was turning his cheeks red, now. He was about to tell you something important.

"Ever since the first day at the orientation week... I thought you were really... attractive. And then, learning about you through all the icebreakers just made things worse. I don't really know how to handle my feelings, so maybe that's why I came across as so rude."

There was silence as you processed everything and starting walking to your dorm again.

"Eunwoo... if you had just cleared this all up a little sooner, we wouldn't have been like cats and dogs," you said, laughing nervously and touching the back of your neck.

"I know, I'm sorry."

"Do you still... like me?" you asked him quietly.

Eunwoo paused before answering. "I don't think I could ever just stop liking you."

Both of you giggled at his cheesy words. You felt like you were on another planet. The boy you'd hated so much turned out to have a crush on you?

"You don't need to tell me how you feel anytime soon. I know there's been a lot of misunderstandings... so let's just clear those up first?" Eunwoo cocked his head to one side.

"If you get to my dorm faster than me, I'll consider it!" you yelled before running in the direction of your residence building.

"I don't even know where you live!" Eunwoo yelled after you, following you along.

"What kind of president are you? You don't even know where your vice president lives?" you yelled back, sticking your tongue out at him.

Suddenly, Eunwoo caught up to you and started racing ahead. Of course he knew where you lived. He liked you.

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husbandohunter · 4 years ago

Text

Stardew Impact [Genshin+Stardew Valley/xReader]

Part 1/3 Kaeya, Diluc

Synopsis: “A mysterious phenomenon brought you and your s/o to an unfamiliar world: Pelican Town! Without the power of Visions, the two of you begin to learn the life of what it takes to be...a farmer?”

(DOMESTIC FARM LIFE YIP YIP)

Coming soon...

Albedo and Childe

Zhongli and Xiao

(A/N): So the brainrot was real in this one. I planned to add Albedo for a Mondstadt edition but kinda went overboard so I gotta split this one into parts too. Wordcount_almost 2k spspspsp

______________________________________________________

Diluc

• Already has the whole year planned in his head. Literally if Diluc were to play this game, he'd have a booming farm within year ONE. Calm and collected through and through, though the new environment raises alot of questions, as long as you were still with him, Diluc ain't complaining

• The town welcomes you two with open arms. It was all thanks to the attire. Diluc wore his usual dark coat adorned with regal gold while you had a dress made of Liyue's finest silk, one that he bought for you. Needless to stay both of you reeked the aura of rich aristocrats (Mayor Lewis is pleased that greedy bastard)

• Once the farm was permitted to your owndership, Diluc began to think of ways to turn it into a vineyard. He was a businessman afterall. Although the staff back at the Dawn Winery were the ones who tended the field, Diluc still knew a few things about planting due to his childhood days Master Crepus would bring him out to their yard and demonstrated the process of gardening. He still remembers those days clearly, doing the very same this moment with you.

• Occasionally works at the Saloon bar. It was the perfect opportunity. As you took care of the farm side, Diluc continues to look for more ways to increase the income while gathering information from the folks around town. Gus LOVES to have him over, like he's just so efficient and reliable! They soon become good friends saying if Diluc were ever to own a wine stock, he would gladly buy from him.

• This is why Diluc would stay a little later due to just chatting with the people from the bar. One time you walked into the Saloon only to the front desk with Emily alone. Turns out the others were in the other room, too busy playing a game of pool. You decided to leave him be since it was rare to have Diluc so relaxed in leisure activities. Thus in the end, you spent your time chatting with Emily until a whole hour has passed before your lover notices and apologizes for losing track of time.

• Everything felt like a dream because it was his dream. To live a life undisturbed from chaos, his duties and the dangers that lurk in Teyvat, Diluc grew fond of the domesticity. There was nothing he loved more than to spend his hours by your side, day after day, returning home to your freshly handmade meals.

• Spring: Already up and early planting the parnersnips (I'm very soft for gardener Diluc you see). What do you expect from a workaholic? Even during his leisure time you would often find him near some plant as he does consider this hobby quite therapeutic. But when it rains, Diluc would be standing beside you with an arm around your shoulder, smiling contently as you lean into his touch. He gazes through the dripping window and silently admires the current progress you both made on the farm.

• Between the two annual spring festivities, I would say the flower dance. Diluc is a private man and would prefer to take things where no eyes were on sight. But with a little bit of nudging from Gus (your wingman), he gives in and leads you to the center stage. Elegant. Graceful. The way you two moved together became the talk of the event. Though, Diluc was already used to people staring by now, all he needed to do was to ignore them and keep his focus on you.

• Summer: No blankets in bed. Nope, its bloody hot in Pelican Town. He tends to stay indoors or anywhere with shade, in other words, his work hours in the Saloon increased.

• Diluc always has a nice cold drink prepared for you if by any chance you were to pay a visit after a whole day of labour. It's a habit he's made subconciously as if it would be a natural occurance for you to enter the door. His colleagues would ask him who did he make that drink for? Honestly so cute i cri

• Moments like these remind him of Mondstadt, where he quietly wipes the glasses while listening to you talk. Your voice is soothing. Sun rays peek from the side casting onto the umber tables, reflecting a rich golden light as the radio plays a soft song in the background. It's so peaceful, the town was small hence not many people visited the bar, Diluc came to appreciate this warm privacy (plus no Venti and Kaeya which is a huge pog realization).

• Autumn: Harvest time baby. The kegs are full and the sheds are full of kegs. This season was huge stonks and the house ended up getting an upgrade. Diluc is the type of man who wants to make sure that his spouse wouldn't have to work another day of her life. I reckon this is why he's so ambitious because he wants you to have the best and you deserve the best. (Husband material. Slap a ring on him ladies).

When there was no more work left to do, time would be spend peacefully exploring the woods. While you skipped a few steps ahead as the leaves crunched beneath your feets, Diluc follows slowly from behind. He sees your back but his eyes stares somewhere far beyond whats in front of him: His future.

It was such a stark contrast to the one he envisioned before. One filled with uncertaintly, blocked by darkness with no silver lining in sight, endlessly wandering as he drags the claymore against the ground. There was never a day in which the Darknight hero wouldn't think of Mondstadt. Leaving the city in the incompetent hands of Ordo Favonious while Abyss Mages continue to lurk fuels him to find a way to return as soon as possible and yet...

"Higher big sis!" Jas tightens her hold on the ropes as you pushed the swing with all your might. She laughs, like a child, it was full of innocence and joy. Later Vincent came in and nugdes you, asking when his turn will come.

"You wanna go too? Alright alright don't worry," waiting for Jas to come down, you lift the boy up so that he was seated safely on the chair, "3..2..1 go!"

He wonders if he could just be a little selfish for once.

• Winter: Best man to have in this season. Every morning Diluc would find himself restricted in movements due to a pair of arms around his waist and legs entangled with yours. Turns out you've been doing it subconciously because he's just so warm (Diluc keeps it lowkey and pretends to sleep longer cuz of it)

~~xx~~

Kaeya

• Haha looks like the portal is gone, guess we'll be stuck forever :)). No kidding Kaeya would be so down to stay here for the rest of his life and the best part is to spend it with you. He doesn't show a shred of concern regarding Teyvat, not like he's easily shaken by events that are abnormal, but you can see that Kaeya is truly and genuinely happy. (You're stunned).

• Oho we also have this marvelous landscape just for the two of us? And a cozy little cabin to go along with it as well? This should be fun~

• Of course Kaeya would also know a few things about planting, just the basics since he did grow up with Diluc. When they were kids, Crepus would give each of them their own pots so they can grow their own plants. It eventually became a competitive thing where whoever's plant grows the fastest gets to eat the other person's dessert for a year (no one wins. They end up sabotaging each other which Diluc started first, thinking it'll be funny as a joke).

• You are, and will be going on dates with him. In fact, the amount of dates you two went on increased since then. The townspeople would call you two "lovebirds" since he's practically by your side 24/7.

• I mean he doesn't have the responsibilities as a Cavalry Captain anymore so what else is there to do?

• Would attend all annual events no matter what season.

• Evelyn constantly gushes how much of a wonderful pair you and Kaeya make and often is the one who provides Kaeya a fresh bouqet of flowers for him to use as a gift. George on the otherhand just rolled his eyes mumbling something along the lines of "youngsters these days" and "crazy hormones."

• Befriends Pam. Love for beer plus somewhat cynical attitude? They get along real swell! She starts sending some recipes into the mailbox of course saying if yall ever need a hand, let her know.

• Spring: I can see Kaeya be switching back and forth between caring for the farm or taking quests posted on Pierre's bulletin board. He likes to keep things interesting, learning the ways of the new world while also getting to know the people around town.

• Would NOT return Mayor Lewis' shorts in which he found in Marnie's room. It's such high quality blackmail material. Kaeya is currently plotting what is the best way to use it to his advantage.

• He didn't tell you of course.

• Summer: There are no blankets because he is your blanket. Since your cabin was small so was the bed. That's why he has to hold you so that no one falls off when rolling over. Either he hugs you with your nose close to his neck, or your back against his chest while spooning you or holding hands if sleeping on your sides became too much. Yall need a serious house upgrade.

• For some reason Kaeya becomes more energetic in the summer. He lets you rest in the shade while handling the farm work for the time being. If you guys got a pet it would be a cat. Hes the first one to refill their bowl every morning outside.

Another day passes as summer comes to an end, the town’s Mayor invited you and your lover to see the annual Dance Of the Moonlight Jellies. Kaeya being the opportunist was delighted to come along. Locking the door of your house, you follow him down the path and made your way to the beach.

Everyone from town was already gathered by the docks when the sun had disappeared down the horizon. You stood by his side in a space far from the others, watching the candle boats set off to ride the waves, lighting up a small ray of light for creatures to find.

“Wow,” your tone almost above a whisper, “If only our friends back home could see this too.”

“Perhaps,” he says. Kaeya slips his fingers into yours and you shot him a curious glance, “But let us enjoy this moment shall we? Just the two of us.”

And there they were. A sea of luminescence radiating colours of brilliant blue with hints of green like a city of laterns floating in a world below. Their image reflects in the star of Kaeya's eyes as he wonders, where would they go? Where would the light lead them? They were so free with nothing to worry, so serene just like the sea and unknowningly, he squeezes your hand. It was a sense for confirmation. One to remind him that this moment was indeed a reality he wishes to keep.

Autumn: Finally a house upgrade and a kitchen!! Because it was harvest season, you guys end up making a set of delicious meals with all the recipes the townspeople gave you. Kaeya can cook since he lived by himself back in Mondstadt. Most of the stuff he learned to make were food that can be accompanied by alcohol though...

• Ahah remember Mayor Lewis' lucky shorts? He found a use for them. It was displayed on the stands during the Stardew Valley Fair (Oh my how did this get here? Must be the wind). Ends up buying a Rarecrow for the farm when Lewis bribes him not to tell this to anyone.

Winter: This was mostly an indoor season for the both of you. With the existence of television, nights would be spent until morning while watching movies at the couch. A blanket drapes around your shoulders as extends to his. Oh and don't forget the hot chocolate!

#genshin impact #stardew valley #genshin impact headcanons #diluc x reader #kaeya x reader #diluc #diluc ragnvindr #Kaeya #kaeya alberich #genshin x reader #genshin headcanons #genshin imagines #genshin scenarios #nya-writes #genshin impact scenarios #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagines

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