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wasabito · 4 years ago

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had so much fun writing for my baby boy tendou, so here’s my entry for the hqhq sfw server collab! be sure to check out the rest on the masterlist found here! enjoy ✨

words: 3.0k

prompt: “you woke me up at 3am for this?”

synopsis: your neighbor is ridiculous, kind of annoying and little bit on the weird side, but you wouldn’t have him any other way.

You had to be the biggest idiot on the planet—an obvious exaggeration, yes, but you were still inclined to believe it was true.

How else could you explain the feeling of being so utterly fed up with one’s actions like this? Were there enough words in the dictionary to describe just how exhausted you were by your own antics, more specifically, your forgetfulness since that’s what had landed you in a world of pain and embarrassment?

The answer was no.

You sat with your back pressed against your front door, head in your hands and chin tucked between your raised knees and chest. At your side was your wallet along with stacks of newspapers, coupons and whatever else had been stuffed in your mailbox, bills probably. Advertisements too. Honestly, it was hard to be happy about a new restaurant opening up down the block when you were currently stuck—locked out of your apartment to be precise.

The landlord of your cheap little complex wasn’t expected to be back for another hour according to the sign posted outside of his office. So until then, you’d remain posted up by your doorstep like some loiterer.

You shifted in place and blew a puff of air from your lips, feeling little pinpricks in your legs. For the fifth time in the last forty-five minutes you felt like kicking yourself, hard.

The sun hung low, nearly touching the distant horizon signifying the end of another day. Even the sky was painted a warm umber, casting dim shadows.

“Locked out, huh?” came a snide, but accented voice.

It took you way longer than necessary to realize that suddenly you weren’t the only person on this floor. God, where was your head at?

A pair of forest green crocs stood before you, complete with a few odd charms and trinkets. A cartoon volleyball, pinned next to a smiley face, a donut and a gaudy “i heart paris” chain dangling from the ankle strap. A person’s shoes could say a lot about who they were...your mother thought so, at least.

Resisting the urge to projectile vomit all over this stranger’s rather questionable taste in footwear, your wary gaze panned upward, glossing over white tube socks and a pair of the longest legs you’ve ever seen on a person—yet another exaggeration. You came face to face with a crooked smile. Curious ruby eyes returned your stare with almost the same amount of scrutiny.

Who the hell was this guy?

Mystery-man easily towered over you, and not only because you were hunched over and sitting. He was tall as hell, all lanky build, gangly arms and legs disguising lithe muscle and a surprisingly sturdy frame. He looked like the i-run-every-morning type; semi-athletic at the very least. His buzzed hair was the color of cinnamon, no that wasn’t right, paprika maybe? Either way, it contrasted sharply with the paleness of his skin, so much so that you could see the faint blue of the veins in his arms.

“Yoohooo, anybody hooome?” He tilted his head at you.

“Huh? Oh uh, yeah, I’m locked out. I forgot my key inside and Mr. Laurent won’t be back until later.”

“Hmm. That sucks...”

“...Um… do I… do I know you or something? You look a little familiar.”

He pinned you with a funny look, before pulling out a set of keys from the back pocket of his shorts.

“Maybe you do, maybe you don’t~ I mean we are neighbors, after all.” Laughing as if he’d made some sort of joke, he entered his apartment with a twirl and a dramatic wave of his arms.

You stared at his door for a solid minute, only to finally succumb to your urges and facepalm at your own idiocy. Of course he looked familiar, how could he not when he literally lived four feet away.

With a sigh of resignation, you braced yourself for another hour spent sitting outside your front door. It wasn’t like there was any other place you could go or anyone you could call. The battery icon on your phone blinked red, warning that it was soon to run out of juice. Guess that meant no Among Us or Subway Surfer for you.

Five minutes later, the door next to you opened. It was Mystery-man again, but this time, he sat in front of his door, just like you were. And he did so with a bag of pretzels and a jar of nutella in hand.

“Must be bored out here by yourself.” He crunched on a pretzel before offering you the bag to take some. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep ya company.”

You weren’t sure why, but there was something about this guy that intrigued you. You half-wondered if it was the funny little curl of his smile, or the wideness of his eyes that made it seem like he was looking at all of you, all at once.

"You must be pretty bored...uh,"

"Satori Tendou, but most people call me Tendou. Miracle boy works just fine too."

"Right... Tendou, as I was saying, you must be incredibly bored to come sit out here with me. You sure you don't have anything important to do?"

Tendou's grinned widened. "Positive! And it costs me nothing to be neighborly, so don't even sweat it."

That was...nice of him?

If sitting outside with you was the way he wanted to spend his late Tuesday afternoon who were you to deny him? And truthfully, you didn't mind the company, at least not really. Provided this guy wasn't some creepy-stalker-weirdo, you were sure there wasn't any harm in getting to know the person who lived one door over.

"So, Tendou, how long have you lived in the area? You don't really look like you're from around here...I could be wrong."

Tendou raised a thin brow at you. "Weeeell, if you're asking about how long I've lived next door, it would be about three maybe four months give or take, but if you're asking how long I've lived in Paris, it would be a year next month. Speaking of, I think Semisemi has a birthday coming up..."

You watched as he pulled out his cell phone and tapped away at the illuminated glass screen. You couldn't help but notice the goofy little anime stickers on his phone case. One in particular caught your attention.

“Is that...Kirara? From Inuyasha??”

“Oho! So, you recognize this?”

Backtracking, you mumble out, “Ah, well…only a little.” Though your face was turned away, the tiny smile on your lips was not hidden from Tendou and he thought you were pretty cute.

Funnily enough, what you had expected to be a rather unnerving and possibly creepy exchange turned out to be anything but. Tendou was incredibly fun to talk to—a bit teasing and a little overwhelming with his superfluous hand movements and gestures. But he was funny and a lot kinder that you would’ve given him credit for.

You learned that he was originally from Japan; it explained his accented French. He had come to Paris right out of high school to study culinary arts in one of the most renowned countries for it. Now he worked as a chocolatier, under the tutelage of a master patisserie in the city, an older man who was both a creative genius and a thorn in Tendou’s side. Tendou spoke of his teacher with equal parts awe and annoyance.

And he got to know you too. How you’d found yourself in Paris, thousands of miles away from home in an effort to rediscover yourself in the city full of rich history and culture.

You didn’t have many friends here, and it truly was a pleasure to make his acquaintance.

Soon, you both heard the telltale sound of jangling keys as your landlord rounded the corner with his clipboard in hand. Once you were able to get your door open, you waved a goodbye to Tendou.

“Thanks for keeping me company, you really didn’t have to.”

“No biggie, it was fun!” He threw a mischievous little grin and a peace-sign over his shoulder and reentered his apartment.

You found yourself wanting to cross paths with him again, and hopefully in better circumstances. But you hadn't known your wishful thinking was soon to manifest as you ambled through grocery store aisles a week later, eyeing down any items with pictures on it.

“Why in the hell is this toilet paper so expensive.” You mumbled.

“So, you complain about the price of toilet paper, but wear sneakers that cost two-thirds our rent.” That voice sounded familiar, and after hearing it for about an hour just days ago, you were a bit surprised you could recognize it so quickly.

Stunned, you looked up to find Satori Tendou, your quirky neighbor with an arm full of pita chips, a milk carton, and baby carrots.

“I never said I made the best choices.” You found yourself smiling despite the previous crease in your brow. “...Dude, get a cart before you drop everything.”

Instead of getting his own, he simply dumped what he had into your cart with a teasing grin. You couldn’t argue with his logic there. Tendou sidled up against you, once again towering over you with a kind of ease that should be criminal. “Need help reading something?”

You wanted to say no. You almost said no. But swallowing your pride, you gave a weak nod. “Yeah, this word right here.” Pointing to the unfamiliar script printed on the label. “What the heck is this?”

“Weeeeell, looks like that brand is scented, ya know, for when ya—”

“Don’t bother finishing that sentence...please.”

You quickly grab what you need and continue on down the aisle with Tendou following closely behind.

Just like when you’d first met him, he made conversation the entire way. By the time you both made it to the cash registers, you’d argued at least three times over french pronunciations and whether cashews were the cousin of peanuts.

And just as last time, he left you with a grin and a peace-sign while you stared after his retreating back, paid groceries in hand.

After an entire day spent baking, you found yourself on Tendou’s doorstep with a tupperware full of baked goodies later the next evening. You had been meaning to thank him for being such a good neighbor to you. It was certainly unexpected, but a welcome gesture nonetheless.

You only had to knock twice before the door was wrenched open and you were greeted with the set of...vanilla? Some pop song played in the background while your neighbor looked at you curiously.

"H-Hey Tendou, I um...I baked you these." You held out the plastic container, hoping he'd simply take it from you without question and you could return to your apartment without somehow embarrassing yourself. "There's a little bit of everything in there, oatmeal raisin, chocolate chip, macadamia nut—wait you aren't allergic to anything, right?"

"Nooope! Not a thing, thanks neighbor!"

"It was no problem, especially since you've helped me, not once but twice now."

Frowning, you couldn't help but be a little upset with yourself. You'd come to France to prove that you could, in fact, live a normal life outside of your family’s jurisdiction but day by day you were proving to need them more and more.

It was disappointing, to say the least.

"Hmm, what’s with the constipated look on your face. Did the toilet paper not help?” Tendou tilted his head at you with a teasing grin, lips curled at the edges, taunting. You blinked up at him, surprised, and if you were honest, a little annoyed too.

"Hah?!"

"Just thought it was worth a mention, nighty-night~!"

Tendou proceeded to shut the door on you; one hand rested on the frame and the other held on to the cookies. You quickly took a step back lest he chop your entire arm off, ready to trudge off in the direction of your own home but not before sticking your tongue out at him.

Stupid Tendou, always saying stupid shit.

You were on the couch, half asleep when it dawned on you that it had been his own twisted, “Tendou” way of cheering you up.

The rest of the month passed just like that. Occasionally, you would bump into Tendou at the grocery store, or the leasing office, or even the laundromat. And every single time, he’d either make you laugh until your sides hurt or annoyed enough to want to give him a friendly punch. At one point, you two had even exchanged phone numbers, because according to Tendou “it was ridiculous not to have your friends on speedial” which only led to hours spent on Facetime or playing iMessage games.

You knew exchanging numbers would come back to bite you in the ass, it was only a matter of when.

It was clear you weren’t going to any sleep tonight, that was for sure. The incessant buzzing of your cell phone every five minutes was an enemy to your circadian rhythm. You could name on one hand those in your contacts with enough sense to know that you lived in a completely different time zone from them now.

Somehow your neighbor was the very last person you suspected, but it was his contact photo that stared back at you, goofy looking grin and all. You squinted against the brightness of your screen in your otherwise dark bedroom.

you up?

come quick

gotta show ya somethin

come oooon

you're awake, i know you are

It took you less than a minute to shuffle on a pair of slippers, grab your keys (you weren't going to forget them this time) and slip out of your apartment.

You hadn't even knocked twice before the door was pulled open. Tendou looked a mess, more so than usual. Unidentified stains littered the apron looped around his thin waist, streaks of what you hoped were just flour and granulated sugar were all over his hands. You almost wanted to ask if he was baking or dealing dope.

“You woke me up at three in the morning...for this?”

“Yuuup!”

"When I said you could call me at any time, I really didn’t mean any time.” You scratch your side, a contemplative look on your face at the sight of Tendou in what you would assume to be his pajamas. An old volleyball hoodie with the words "Shirazorizawa" printed across the front, and old sweats the were so obviously cut with scissors at the knee.

Rolling your eyes, you mumbled a curt, “Alright, move aside.”

Tendou ushered you over to his kitchen where several of his cooking supplies laid on the island, along with a tray of some chocolate dessert spread.

“It’s all still in the testing phase, but I think I’m onto something here.”

He was definitely giving off “mad scientist” vibes. You tried not to snort.

Holding a small chocolate cake in his hand, he smiled, a genuine smile this time. "Open wide."

You obeyed, far too tired to argue, and let him pop the treat into your mouth. Tendou watched as you chewed, as if it were the most interesting thing ever. His wide gaze carefully took in every shift in your expression.

"So? Whaddya think?"

"I...," You chewed a bit more. "...It's delicious! Is that—"

"—Pistachio, why yes it is!"

Tendou was practically bouncing on his feet with excitement. "It takes the entire thing to a whole new level."

You had to agree with him there. This was probably the best chocolate madeleine you'd ever tasted. "Great work, miracle boy. Will you be introducing this new recipe to Claude?"

Mentioning his teacher seemed to sober him up a bit. "Ehh, maybe? The old man's a bit of traditionalist, so I'll just have to figure out a way to get him to approve."

"Maybe try calling him at three in the morning?"

Tendou stuck his tongue out at you before popping a dessert in his mouth. The pure delight on his face was so contagious, you found yourself smiling just the same. You couldn’t help but admire his passion.

“Hey, Tendou… do you like your job?”

He blinked at you, chewing coming to a slow halt. “Well of course! The pay isn’t the best just yet, but it’s a labor of love. I’m willing to put my all into it at least.”

“Huh… that’s pretty cool.” You wiped your fingers on a nearby rag. “I hope to feel the same one day… if I can figure out what I wanna do.”

“Why not bake? You’re pretty good at it.”

“Oh am I? Last week you said my baking needed some work.”

“Well, duh, but my standards when it comes to confectionaries are impossibly high. Even so, I think you’d be successful as a baker. What’s stopping you from pursuing your labor of love?”

And that was the thing with Tendou. He talked a lot, teased even more, but it was never idle ramblings. Somehow, he always seemed to hit right at the heart of the issue with almost painfully uncomfortable accuracy.

“I don’t really know so…” You looked away, trailing off.

“Either way,” he said and placed a finger under your chin, raising your head until you were looking him in the eye. “I’m rooting for you.”

For a moment, you simply stared, awestruck. It was the first time in a long while someone was actually putting their faith in you, believing in you. He had come blazing into your life unabashed with his easy grins and gaze alight with mischief. His encouraging words, sincerity, sensitivity. Tendou was really incredible.

“Tendou…” You took his hand in yours, squeezing it. “Thanks. For everything.”

“Of course, what are neighbors for.”

BONUS:

Three months later you sat curled up next to Tendou on his sofa, his entire apartment smelled of chocolate cocoa with hints of cinnamon.

Before you was an application. Culinary school.

“You really think I can do this?”

Tendou placed his head on your shoulder with a tiny smirk. “One hundred and twenty percent!”

You pondered for a moment, then decided that if he thought you were up for the challenge then you’d believe him.

“For the record, you probably aren’t supposed to recommend your girlfriend for an interview. You know, conflict of interest and all.”

Tendou laughed and pulled you closer. “Trust me, we’ll be fine, so don’t worry your pretty little head, ‘kay?”

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #tendou x reader #tendou satori #satori tendou #satori tendou x reader #tendou satori x reader #sabi.writes

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tendertenebrosity · 3 years ago

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Illiam and Helis on the road! Close sequel to here and here. Masterpost for these characters is here. Mostly just some conversation and worldbuilding today; stay tuned for part 2!

Taglist: @castielamigos-whump-side-blog, @doglover82; @top-hat-aye; @burtlederp; @just-a-raccoon-with-wifi @thesleepysnapdragon @whump-cravings

Helis knew, from the conversations they had overheard at Illiam’s heel, that today they would pass into the south of Rosdan, the part the Toraldan army hadn’t taken yet. If they hadn’t, they probably wouldn’t have been able to guess; the countryside was the same as it had been for the past few days. Heavily forested hills, a dirt road that wound side-to-side between their peaks like the track made by a snake. The ground was rocky, any snow long since trodden into black sludge peppered liberally with gravel. Helis had an impressive bruise on the underside of their foot from trying to make their way through it, and the little downy feathers on their ankles hadn’t been either white or downy in days.

“We have quite a large ravine to cross next,” Illiam commented. “The town is just over the bridge; we should be able to see both once we’re around this next bend in the road.”

Helis made a wordless hum of acknowledgment. They wouldn’t be stopping for the night in this town; they might pause so that people could mill about, make a mess and maybe have another urgent, terse meeting. Or they might not. Helis supposed they’d be glad for a chance to stretch their legs.

The thick pine forest on some of these hills was a lot like the country that they’d spent a few weeks camping in with Reed. Had it been this tiring, going up and down the hills? Not for Helis, but maybe for Reed it had been. He’d never complained.

“I built some bridges, you know,” Illiam remarked.

Helis blinked, roused from their reverie. “What?”

“Bridges. You know, big structures, usually made of wood or stone, they allow you to get over bodies of water… ”

Helis hunched their shoulders. Yes, very funny. “You… built bridges? Why?” It wasn’t something they’d ever considered him doing. It seemed… beneath him, or at least that he ought to think it was beneath him. They didn’t remember him ever showing the slightest interest in that kind of thing before.

“It’s the kind of thing I’ve been working on, the last few years,” Illiam explained. “Not just bridges, but… large engineering work. Repairing dams, roads. You usually do that with magic in Crestmead, don’t you?”

“Sometimes,” Helis said. Their friend Diamand had taken a job in that direction; another scholarship student, like them, he’d chosen to go into government service in construction. “It’s usually done with teams of mages…”

“It’s not been used much here,” Illiam said. “Most things like that in the North are built the old-fashioned way. Bricks and mortar and a lot of peasants with shovels. It can be difficult and dangerous work, not to mention slow. I had seen a lot of… interesting things done in the South, and I wanted to try and replicate them. Not just structures, either - I still wonder if I could get some of your irrigation and wind shelter techniques to work with our farms.” He paused. “You came from a farm, didn’t you?”

“Yeees…” Helis wasn’t sure whether to be surprised he remembered, or brace themself for him to say something derogatory. “We didn’t use any magic, though. I think you’re talking about bigger places than ours…”

He barely seemed to be listening. “I imagine the climate to the south is better, so you probably didn’t need much help. The land to the west of our holdings is harsh, and crop failures are common. It would make a big difference if I could increase yield even a little bit.” He sighed. “Bridges proved easier, at least to start with. Of course, I was somewhat hampered by the fact that, as you say, I don’t have a trained team. I only have myself. So a lot of the techniques needed… adjusting.”

Despite themselves, Helis found themself a little interested. “That’s a bit more than just an ‘adjustment’,” they said. “You’re trying to do the work of, what - four to six people by yourself?”

“Mm,” he said, dismissive.

“That sounds… dangerous,” Helis said. They’d had to design the kind of spells Illiam was talking about as part of their course; they couldn’t imagine trying to handle that much magic, in that many different moving parts, at once. It was overambitious to the point of being irresponsible.

Then again, in light of his current project, they shouldn’t be surprised.

“Oh, maybe if you don’t know what you’re doing,” Illiam said, airily. They could practically picture the smug tilt of his chin as he said it. “I had it down pretty well by the third attempt. Besides, it was unavoidable. Even if I’d managed to get four or five mages together, there’s no guarantee they’d have been able to work together in that way. It’s not a common skill here.”

Helis’ brow wrinkled. “But… I’ve seen other mages here, in the army ranks.” Mostly men, a scattering of women, their uniform marked out with a red scarf or sash or hat. The common soldiers deferred to them, but nowhere near as much as they did to Illiam. Helis had seem them performing heat spells, wind spells, stick-fast spells - the kinds of minor workings any large group of people needed. Are they mages or not? they wanted to ask. Why ‘if’ you get four or five people? Aren’t they trained properly?

He hummed thoughtfully. “Yes, but the… culture, I suppose you’d say… amongst mages is different here. Much less collaborative. Much less standardised. A Northern sorceror works alone, or maybe with an apprentice or two if they’re inclined to that sort of thing.”

“Oh.”

“There’s nothing like the Academy here, or even the sort of smaller schools that teach people to read and write in Crestmead,” Illiam explained. “I learned my Northern magic from my master, Karlin, who learned it from his, and so on. I started when I was nine - that’s pretty normal. He didn’t have a second apprentice while teaching me, but I understand he often did. Some masters can get a bit… stingy, paranoid. They don’t like to share their knowledge too freely. Karlin was never like that.”

“Oh. You… always did seem like you knew a bit already, in the first semester,” Helis admitted.

Illiam was silent, just a beat longer than usual. “You could say that,” he said. “You know, I - ”

He cut himself off - the hands that had been fairly slack on the reins in front of Helis were suddenly moving, pulling the horse up to a sudden stop.

They had just rounded the curve of the hillside. As Illiam had said, they could look down and see the bridge - miles ahead of them yet, a squat and sturdy structure made from the same grey stone as the cliffs it straddled. The riverbed was a long way down.

They couldn’t see much of the town, though, because it and the forest to the east were obscured by a thick dark plume of smoke.

The soldiers in front of them were clogging the road, the whole unit that had been ahead of Illiam’s horse, pulled to an unplanned halt. Raised voices and curses reached Helis’ ears; people were pointing at the smoke, barking orders, shoving the people ahead or behind them.

“This town was supposed to be secured!” someone was insisting, harsh and strident. “Lord Garnier sent - ”

As the army milled, disorganised, there was a sharp whistle, thinned out by distance and followed by a crack. The light that flashed in the forest beyond the town was tinged pale blue, obviously magical in origin. People in the army flinched and swore as more clouds of dust and smoke rose up. As they watched, aghast, a wedge of stone split away from the cliff face and tumbled down into the ravine with a crash.

Illiam hissed wordlessly under his breath, and tapped Helis - more of a shove, really - on the shoulder.

"You’re getting off,” he said abruptly.

“What?”

“Get off the horse, lackwit, move!”

Helis let go of their grip on the saddle and drew their knees up slightly, uncertain of what to do next. Illiam lifted them unceremoniously around the waist, and they swung their leg awkwardly over the horse’s neck. They made it to the ground in an awkward, flapping fall, their legs nearly giving way under them.

The horse stamped and sidled back and forth, rolling one dark eye as Helis stumbled back. Illiam gathered up his reins. He didn’t even look down at Helis.

“Go back and wait with the rest of the camp followers,” he said, his voice raised over the commotion. “Do not come and find me. Do not cause problems.”

He kicked the horse into motion. Helis shielded their eyes from the dirt he threw up; they could hear him yelling something at the soldiers down the slope. By the time they had collected themself, the crowd of soldiers had parted to allow Illiam and his horse to canter down the hill in the direction of the smoking town.

“Well, now what?” Helis asked aloud, to nobody in particular. They watched the figure of Illiam and his horse, dramatic black cloak flapping, until it was out of sight. Helis didn’t know much about war magic. But they had a hazy, uneasy idea how much damage a single magic-user could wreak against an undefended force. Was he going to fight? Or did he think the battle needed him in command? It still seemed unbelievable to Helis, that men twice their age, generals and leaders, actually took orders from Illiam, who wasn’t any older than Helis themself.

The crowd of soldiers was forming up into some kind of order in his wake, the person who’d been yelling about Lord Garnier unloading a series of profanities and insults on everybody in earshot.

The wagons and the rest of the army had been following Illiam and the advance party, much slower on the hilly ground. Helis had no idea how far away they might be.

They sighed, picked a rock out from between their toes, and set off back the way they’d come.

#Illiam #Helis #war and military stuff #riding double #not much to tag today or maybe my brain just isn't working that well haha #winged OC #environmental whump

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forasecondtherewedwon · 4 years ago

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They’re Sayin’ (You’re Gonna Be My Man)

Fandom: The Falcon and the Winter Soldier Pairing: Sam Wilson/Bucky Barnes Rating: T Word Count: 2217

Summary: Sam calls Bucky too soon after he's left Louisiana, looking for advice he doesn’t really need and getting a conversation he didn’t really expect.

Sam’s supposed to wait until news of the Flag-Smashers’ movements comes down the line to get in touch with Bucky. He doesn’t. It’s sooner. It’s almost right away.

He’s sure Bucky’s gotta be out of the state, but he doesn’t know whether he’s made it back to this alleged apartment in Brooklyn (on some level, Sam’s aware that he keeps making jokes about the conspiracy of the apartment’s existence because it’s his way of daring Bucky to invite him over sometime). When he calls Bucky up, he knows he might catch him on a plane, in a cab, with a buzz of voices around him as he scowls at strangers in an airport or stomps down a sidewalk. But, other than Bucky’s voice on the other end, Sam just hears quiet, so he figures the guy made it home.

“You never told me if you had any tips,” Sam accuses straight off.

Shifting his feet, he tamps down more of the grass he’s been practicing on, squinting when sweat rolls into his eye. He just finished a brisk mile with the shield on his arm, getting used to the weight and the bulk of it, and he’s ready to start throwing again.

“Tips for what?” Bucky asks. “Fixing the boat? General life stuff? I know we had a good talk, but I think I take advice better than I give it.”

“Which is not saying much,” Sam points out with a laugh. “You suck at taking advice.”

“Until recently.”

“Until recently,” Sam allows. He takes a deep breath and leans over to the side, stretching from his run and tapping his hand on the Vibranium disc currently propped against his leg. “Nah, man, for the shield. How to throw it, how to catch it, how to pull off some of Steve’s fuckin’ boomerang tricks.”

“I thought you were gettin’ the hang of it,” Bucky says in his ear.

“I am. I just realized that, when I had you here, you did a lot of standing around and catching the shield on that cyborg arm of yours. Not a lot of active advice-giving.”

“You really want me telling you how to do your job?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, nobody said that. I am simply aware of the fact that you’re one of very few people alive who’ve handled this thing, and maybe the only one who did it with any actual competence.”

“The level of flattery is astounding,” Bucky says dryly.

“You want more, you gotta help me out,” Sam jokes back.

“Well, show me what you’re doin’.”

Sam glances around himself. Flat lawn. Waning daylight. Tall trees wrapped in the pads he’s been ricocheting the shield off of. No place good to prop his phone.

“I gotta get somebody to film me,” he realizes. “Lemme call you back.”

“Everybody’s gonna be filming you with the shield pretty soon. Only question is whether you’re doing something impressive in news footage or looking like a jackass in some kind of Avengers’ Greatest Fuckups reel.”

“Shut the hell up. I thought we were gettin’ along now.”

“Just trying to be motivational. Am I not doing it right?”

“I think you better look up the word ‘motivational’ in the dictionary while you wait for my call,” Sam suggests.

He disconnects and hangs his head, shaking it even as he smiles.

His legs are screaming for a thorough, post-workout stretch and maybe some ice on his shins—they’ve been taking the brunt every time he digs his feet into the ground and braces to snatch the returning shield from the air—but what’s another quarter mile? Sam runs to Sarah’s, arms pumping, stride a little different now that he has to accommodate the shape of the shield.

When he gets there, the boys are playing soccer on the lawn and he calls through the screen window to the kitchen to get his sister’s ok to borrow them as his training assistants. They get even more excited by the bestowing of this title and its implied responsibility than by the sight of the shield. That’s pretty incredible. Sarah caves to a temporary borrowing (supper’s almost ready) and they’re off.

On the way back, Sam lets AJ carry the shield. Seems like a nice break for himself until Cass requests a piggyback.

“Alright,” Sam agrees with a sigh, crouching in front of his nephew. “Hop on.”

Captain America’s benevolence is limitless. At least, it is this evening. When his back’s killing him tomorrow from absorbing the shock of a hundred shield throws, he will not be so easily persuaded into giving piggybacks.

In the clearing, Sam pulls his phone from the zipped pocket of his shorts and videocalls Bucky, who picks up on the first ring. His face is too close to the camera, but it’s good to see those blue eyes and the crinkles that are either there because he’s smiling in greeting or he’s confused about how a videocall works. In a few seconds, Bucky figures out for himself that he needs to hold the phone farther away. It makes Sam miss him. Also makes him a little worried because he can see the blank, white wall of Bucky’s apartment around his head. No paint, no art. Sam can’t even hear a TV or anything in the background.

“You’re not busy,” he observes.

“Not really, no,” Bucky admits.

“You coulda stayed here longer.”

“Nah, you needed time with everything, not me constantly looking over your shoulder. Shield’s yours now, Sam. I’m gonna be at your side, but you and the shield… I got no say in what that relationship is. I understand that now and I’m trying to respect it.”

“So when you’re actually doing the right thing, let you back off?”

“That’s right,” Bucky agrees.

“I’ll try to remember in case it ever happens again.”

Before Bucky can defend himself against Sam’s teasing jab, Sam passes the phone to AJ, camera turned so Bucky will still be focused on him when he starts throwing the shield again.

“Got you propped up on my human tripod,” he informs Bucky, reaching above the phone to playfully shove the side of AJ’s head. “So watch your mouth.”

“Can I say hi?”

“Don’t be a smartass,” Sam warns.

And, of course, Bucky eggs the kids into a long ooooh, like they’ve caught him breaking his own rule. Which they have. But Bucky was being a smartass and the opportunity to let him know is not something Sam likes to pass up.

He’s stretching now—maybe for himself, maybe for the camera pointed his way—gripping his ankles in turn and holding his heels to his ass until he feels the pull in his thighs. Bucky’s not wrong about having this time to himself. Just him and this legendary object that’s feeling more right on his arm every time he slips it through the straps. Still, he misses what they had going the last two days. Not him and the shield, but him and Bucky. Having him here like that… It was different from every other experience Sam’s had with him. Bucky was still, in turns, a grouch and a showoff and a staring machine and a shithead (flirting with Sarah, come ON), but he was also more convincingly a person than Sam’s had the pleasure of seeing him before. At ease and multi-faceted by nature instead of the necessity of adapting in the face of a threat.

Bucky smiled.

They didn’t always bicker.

He looked damn good in the morning when they leaned against the kitchen counter, not talking, sipping their coffee.

Sam wants those minutes back so bad. Living with Bucky here was incomparable to living with him overseas. Lotta reasons for that, including not having to share the space with Baron Zemo. Mostly because this is home and Sam liked pretending, while Sarah did some well-deserved sleeping in and the boys got the hems of their pajama pants wet in the dew in the backyard, that it was real. That this breath between their fights (no longer with each other) could last and that this is where they’d hold it. It could be their kitchen, their mugs, their tousled sheets Bucky’d climbed out of, looking all rumpled and lovely and shit.

But Bucky doesn’t know what Sam pretends and Sam sure as hell isn’t going to tell him. He’s just going to keep faithful to their usual dynamic, trying for less glaring. Not a word to unsettle things, as much as he’s curious how they might handle things being unsettled. As much as his mind plays back the blinding glint off the water as they rolled up their sleeves and went to work together in a way more meaningful, more personal, than they ever have before. Plays it back all the time.

No. Quiet. Sam needs to figure himself out first and knows Bucky’s working on doing the same. Maybe sometime—but probably never—they can see how those selves overlap. All they need to make fly right now is being Captain America and… what’d that moron call himself? The White Wolf? Son of a biscuit…

“Let me see him!” Cass says excitedly, recapturing Sam’s focus.

It’s his brother he’s talking to and Sam watches fondly as AJ turns the phone to show Bucky a grinning Cass, being careful to keep it steady. Pretty damn sweet. Cass even waves while Sam stands there, watching and doing shoulder rolls.

“Hi, Uncle Bucky!”

Sam feels like he just whipped the shield out and caught the return in his stomach. He strides over to the boys and AJ passes the phone back without being asked. He’s stifling giggles despite or because he senses that his little brother shouldn’t have said that.

“One minute,” Sam tells Bucky, hardly glancing at him because he just can’t. He tilts the camera towards the ground and raises expectant eyebrows at his grinning nephews. “Did somebody tell you to call him that?”

In unison, the boys go, “No, Uncle Sam,” which is suspiciously adorable. But they aren’t liars.

“Did you hear somebody call him that?”

AJ and Cass glance at each other and that’s enough for Sam. They won’t answer, so he knows it’s Sarah who’s made this joke, put this idea in the kids’ heads. They won’t give her up though, because they’re Wilsons and they’re loyal to their mother.

Sam turns the camera back on himself, unprepared for the upward tick at the corner of Bucky’s lips that make them even harder to look away from than usual.

“My sister must’ve—”

“I know,” Bucky interrupts.

“You know?”

“Yeah. Sarah called me that to my face.”

“She did what?”

Sarah having her joke is one thing, but saying it to Bucky takes things a little far, in Sam’s opinion. Bucky could think Sarah’s serious. He could think she’s saying that because Sam’s said something to her. Something about coffee and bedsheets and the sweet ache he felt in his chest when he saw Bucky’s smile in the golden light of dawn.

“Last night, before she put the boys to bed. You were in the shower, I think.” Bucky reaches up absentmindedly to run a hand over the top of his head; the flex of his bicep in the long-sleeved shirt he’s wearing and waiting for the end of this recollection are both torture for Sam. “They wanted to hang out with me, but Sarah said, ‘Uncle Bucky’s gotta get some sleep. You’ll see him tomorrow.’ Something like that.”

Now, when Sam’s truly learning the meaning of flabbergasted, Bucky’s mouth cracks into a wide, self-satisfied smile.

“You made that up,” Sam guesses helplessly.

“Nope.”

Sam knows that, with his nephews’ inability to lie and Sarah’s lifelong history of messing with him as evidence, but it would’ve been a convenient escape from the reality of his sister (and possibly the boys too) addressing Bucky as if he and Sam are together.

“Tell me you told my sister to drop the ‘Uncle.’”

Another thing Sam knows: that Bucky didn’t do that. Bucky seems happy to prove his fears correct; he shrugs.

“Sounded kinda nice,” Bucky defends. That makes Sam soften. He knows Bucky doesn’t have any living family, that he’s been struggling to allow himself to make friends. Maybe he just likes being told he belongs to them and that Sarah’s joke makes it effortless for him. Then, Bucky adds, “Pass me back to my nephews.”

Sam points a warning finger at him.

“Watch it.”

“Yeah, yeah.” The crease between Bucky’s eyebrows deepens as Sam watches the pain in the ass pretend to be stern with him. “Just throw the damn shield. I thought you asked for my help.”

“I did.”

Releasing a cautious sigh, Sam hands the phone to AJ once more. The boy’s got his silliness under control and he accepts the job solemnly.

Sam’s two steps away, hefting the shield onto his arm, when he hears Bucky shout, “And my hand in marriage!”

The boys’ laughter has them rolling on the cool grass, the phone clutched in AJ’s grip, and by the time Sam wrestles it away from his nephew, the camera’s swung all over the place. Showing Bucky the sky, the dirt, some quality footage up AJ’s nose, and probably—almost definitely—the way his words made Sam smile.

#my writing #tfatws #tfatws spoilers #The Falcon and the Winter Soldier #Sam Wilson #Bucky Barnes #Sam Wilson x Bucky Barnes #sambucky

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thewintermusketeer · 5 years ago

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This started off as a little reddie drabble to cheer up @skinks , based off her tags and thirsting for bill hader, particularly inspired by this post. It’s now over 1.5k and I absolutely did not read it over before punting it off to my love @benevolentbridgetroll to look over, so if this makes sense it is only due to her help.

Disclaimer: I have not seen the movie/read the book/am not part of this fandom so this is purely based of the SCU (skinks cinematic universe).

They’ve been couch shopping. Of all the things, that’s the catalyst. If Eddie were a pessimist (which he’s not, he’s just sensible, Christ, Richie, it is literally my job to think about worst case scenarios) then he’d say the whole ‘being stabbed in the face and then stabbed again in an even more vital area, in a manner commonly called impaling’ had messed with his judgement. However, that would imply that something else is messing with his reasoning, and Eddie has been through enough therapy by now to understand exactly which thoughts and behaviours are his own. And this? Unfortunately, this is all Eddie.

Anyway, the issue is that Richie sat on a couch. A couch that they were buying together, because they live together. They live together, and they cook together (or rather Eddie tries to cook healthily, and then when he ruins it Richie makes something with far too much fat and salt in it, that’s still better than take out at least). They go shopping for groceries together. They’re the most boring middle-aged couple in the world, and yet neither of them have actually got the balls to call themselves one. They both know there’s something there. Something hanging in the space between them, important words swallowed behind more and more insults because Eddie never thought he’d feel like he’d die if he didn’t hear another ‘yo mama’ joke. It was strong enough for Eddie to move to Florida with Richie, to get away from New York and Myra, even if the latter was something he’d have done anyway, as soon as his memories started coming back. But it’s still unsaid. Not acted upon.

And Eddie is pretty sure they’d have stayed like that for a while longer, in a holding pattern made comfortable by the fact it’s not comfortable; Richie pushes him, dares him and goads him like he did when they were children, and Eddie still can’t believe he forgot how it feels to want to shove Richie right in his stupid square face, even as he can’t stop laughing. Richie makes him feel like life is actually worth living, and not something to be calculated and analysed and rationed. Of course, Richie also makes him feel fucking horny. Which is exactly the problem.

Richie sat on a show couch – and Eddie doesn’t even want to think about how many other fucking people have been near that thing – and Eddie barely stopped himself from crawling onto his lap right there in the shop and jerking off onto his shitty logo t-shirt. He was wearing converse for Christ’s sake. Shoes that provide no fucking ankle or arch support. No forty-year-old man should look sexy wearing converse and a baseball cap. And yet Eddie wanted to measure the exact diameter of Richie’s chest using his thighs. Maybe years of being called a loser and a square had sunk in, subliminally, because the fucking stupid rectangular breadth of Richie’s chest had made Eddie feel crazy. He wanted to be wrapped up in Richie’s gorilla arms, wanted to feel the gentle scratch of his arm hair against his own bare skin. Wanted to watch the clench of Richie’s hands against the back of the sofa if Eddie dropped to his knees in front of him, telling him not to touch his fucking hair until he’d washed his hands, Jesus Christ. Wanted to see if Richie would laugh during sex, as well.

But he didn’t. Instead they bought the couch, after he’d checked the fire regulations. He had left the shop with Richie, who’d slung one arm around his shoulders, and the weight of his arm, the warmth of him against Eddie’s side, was as reassuring as it was a turn-on.

“Guess we’re parents now, Eds. Or, we will be when our bouncing baby boy gets delivered next week.” Eddie feels the laugh building in Richie’s chest before he even speaks. “I’m so glad you kept your figure though, babe, a couch that big must’ve been murder on your hips.”

“You’d know all about bad hips, fuck face, or am I imagining the old man complaining I heard this morning?” Eddie would say he’d replied on autopilot, but a larger portion of his brain than he liked to admit was always focused on Richie, like a radio that always tuned back to one station.

“It’s not my fault your mom rode me so hard last night, is it?”

Eddie hadn’t been able to stop his snort. Forty fucking years old and the same joke was still funny. He’d looked out the corner of his eyes at the dumb smile Richie was sporting, all because he’d made him laugh. Richie needed a shave and stepping outside the air conditioned shop was enough to make his glasses steam up a bit, but it hadn’t stop Eddie’s raging, improbable thoughts about the line of his jaw beneath the stubble, about how he wanted to turn it into a slip n’ slide with his dick. About how he wanted to feel the bob of his Adam’s apple fucking massaging Eddie’s armpit, or something.

Eddie hadn’t even realised they’d reached the car until Richie’s arm left his shoulders as he walked round to the passenger door. But now he was here, sat in the driver’s seat of the car – of course I’m fucking driving Richie, you drive at about 100 miles an hour even though you get car sick – sweat drying on his skin as the A/C blew, unable to tear his eyes away from the long, be-denimed legs that were currently folding themselves into the car. The slight jolt of the car’s suspension as Richie settled the breadth of his shoulders against the seat felt like it went straight to Eddie’s dick.

Fuck it. Fuck this ‘unsaid thing’ bullshit. Fuck pussyfooting around, when the two of them already share a life together. Fuck Richie Tozier in particular, and hopefully fucking soon.

“What’s wrong? Have I got something on my face? I don’t think I do, I’ve been told that that’s unfortunately just how my face is.” Richie’s eyebrows look like they’re attempting to perform the macarena with the kind of enthusiasm only seen at an eight year old’s birthday party when cake time is announced. Eddie wants to lick them.

“Should I get a cool face scar? I mean you’re really pulling it off - ” Eddie cuts Richie off with his mouth. He was aiming for Richie’s lips but he’ll take the chin he gets, mouthing openly, the stubble stinging his lips.

“Wha-” Richie gets out, more an exhalation of air that Eddie feels against his face. He steals Richie’s next breath, kissing him properly, one hand leaning across to brace him against Richie’s thigh. One of Richie’s hands comes up to cradle his face and fuck, Eddie wants it to never leave his body, wants it on his face and his neck and his legs and his back, and to hold it with their fingers interlaced like a promise. Richie pulls back just far enough to press a kiss to the scar on his cheek and Eddie feels like he might cry.

Instead, he says, “I love you. Dickwad.” The insult is tacked on the end almost as an afterthought, because for all it’s funny to insult each other, Eddie wants Richie to know how serious he’s being. The problem is that the moment feels too serious. They’re in their own little bubble in the car, but Eddie is still acutely aware of the people walking past on the other sidewalk, can hear the sounds of traffic. He suddenly wishes it was just the two of them, back in the home they’re making together with their terrible decorating choices and the orthopaedic mattress Eddie is now hoping they’ll be sharing.

Richie’s face turns soft. “I wanted to say it first, asshole. Always stealing my thunder. I can’t have anything in this relationship. Didn’t even get to choose our anniversary date.”

Eddie tightens his grip on the thigh beneath his hand, sliding his fingers down onto Richie’s inseam; Richie’s legs spread gratifyingly fast, and Eddie can’t help but lean back in for another kiss. Richie seems to be trying to suck his tongue into his mouth this time, and he can’t help but be extremely into it. They’re only interrupted by a honk from a passing car, and Eddie is reminded again that getting home is a good idea. He separates himself from Richie reluctantly and fastens his seat belt, raising an eyebrow at Richie until he does the same. He starts the engine, but just before he prepares to pull out the parking space he considers Richie’s last statement.

“You can decide our anniversary if you propose. Of course, your mom might get there first, but if you think about exactly what you want do to when we get back to the house, it might net you preferential treatment.”

Richie looks a bit dazed. “You want a list, baby? I can do that, Mr Sexy Analyst. Alphabetical?”

The look Eddie levels him is particularly judgemental. He cannot believe he’s about to fuck this man. “Chronological, moron.”

“Anything you want, Eds.”

Eddie doesn’t think Richie knows exactly how long that list is. He’s looking forward to finding out himself.

#reddie #it chapter 2 #love confession #first kiss #my writing #my fic

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anonwriter27 · 4 years ago

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Trust in Me Ch11

I've received a message asking if I had anyone in mind when writing the characters of Y/N's family, if anyone would like to know my somewhat 'fancast' let me know! :)

Since that first kiss, Loki was in a daze. He was certain she must be an enchantress of some kind.

One kiss wasn’t enough for him, he found himself craving the soft feel of those plump lips against his. He loved the fact he could taste sweet pastries on her lips; he was bewitched by the way her breath hitched when he stole an unexpected kiss or two; he adored the way she melted into his warm embrace.

It was her touch too.

The slightest press of her fingertips along his jaw or the delicate way her fingers combed through his hair, left a fire in their wake. It wasn’t an unpleasant heat; it didn’t scorch him or leave him burnt. It was the kind of warmth that spread slowly, like sitting by a fire after bracing the cold winter winds. Y/N thawed him of an ice that had spread over him these many years.

He expected this thrill to wear slightly after a few weeks. Loki had had romantic attachments before; on Asgard it was common for he and Thor to have various ladies accompany them to the many feasts Odin hosted. But his interest in these women would always fade quickly.

This didn’t seem to be the case with Y/N, it had been two weeks since their first kiss and he yearned for more.

The more he learnt about her, the more fascinated he became. He wondered if this was due to the weeks of getting to know each other. Both Loki and Y/N had been wounded in the past by the carelessness of others; perhaps understanding each other’s boundaries had built them a foundation of sorts to develop their relationship into something more.

That was how Loki liked to rationalise it, because as enamoured with Y/N as Loki was, he would never admit to being head over heels.

This would be how he explained his current actions, trapping Y/N’s body with his own in a supply closet, trailing sweet kisses down her neck.

“We are both needed in the meeting room.” Y/N said, trying to sound serious through her laughter.

Y/N had never experienced romantic feelings or feelings of want, but after their first kiss it hit her in a matter of seconds. She had always thought Loki handsome, but this new side of their relationship made him utterly irresistible. She could not deny him the kisses he craved, nor would she want to.

“They requested our presence at two o’clock, we have three minutes.” Loki’s voice was muffled as he kept pressing kisses to her neck.

“It will take us a minute to walk there.” Y/N reasoned.

Loki hummed, “Then we shall have two minutes of bliss.”

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh, she didn’t want to leave their cocoon of happiness any more than he did. However, Loki and Y/N had agreed not to let anyone know of this new development for the time being. Loki was still trying to find his bearings at the tower, and while he didn’t care too much what the avengers thought of him, he didn’t think stealing the innocence of Stark’s beloved niece would hold him in good standing.

“It’s never just two minutes Loki.” She mockingly admonished.

He gave her that laugh, one that promised mischief. “Can you blame me my dear? I can hardly get you all to myself these days.”

Loki was right. Every time they had been close to a moment alone, they were interrupted. If it wasn’t Vision reminding them dinner was ready, it was Thor asking Loki to go training with him. The worst one had been an intimate exchange in Y/N’s room. A heated debate over the greatest of Shakespeare’s plays ended in Loki crawling on top of Y/N and kissing her without abandon. He would have kissed her long into the night had the voice of Peter Parker not sounded through the door asking Y/N if she wanted to watch a movie.

They both longed for these stolen moments together.

“Perhaps we need to schedule time together.” Y/N joked, though the idea wasn’t ridiculous.

“Oh?” Loki smirked. “Are you asking me out on a… what is it you Midgardians call it?”

“A date?” Y/N asked.

“Yes. Are you asking me out on a date?” Loki teased.

Y/N blushed scarlet. She had been much more confident with Loki over their time spent together, but little things such as this would make her doubt herself.

Loki sensed her hesitation, “Before your nerves talk you out of it…” He began, reaching up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear, “You should know, I would say yes.”

She looked into those green eyes, finding only honesty there. “You would?” She said meekly.

He smiled warmly, “I would.”

She took a deep breath, “Would you like to… you know?”

Loki wouldn’t make it that easy, “You’re going to have to say the words dear, I wish to be wooed.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, “Loki… will you go on a date?” She asked then added, “With me?”

With that happy smile, the one he reserved for her, he answered, “Of course.”

She leant up on her tippy toes, lips hovering just a touch away from his. As Loki was about to seal their lips together, she pulled back slightly.

“We’re five minutes late.” And with a quick kiss to the lips, she slid from his embrace and snuck out the closet.

Loki sighed, “Temptress.” He muttered, before following her.

Sitting across from Loki during the monthly meeting was hard. He sat across the table from her, their eyes occasionally meeting, only to be forced to look away as to not arouse suspicion.

It was the way he looked at her that made it so difficult.

It was not that his eyes promised more secret meetings, nor did they suggest anything lewd. He simply looked at her with appreciation, like he was happy to look at her, he was happy she was there. There were very few times in Y/N’s life where she felt safe under someone’s gaze.

When Tony would watch her, he would do so as a concerned uncle. When the rest of the team looked at her, they did so to protect her, to make sure she was comfortable and safe. But when Loki gazed at her, she felt wanted; not just wanted in presence, but also as a woman. For so long she had felt like a broken little bird, a fledgling not quite ready to fly; but with Loki she soared.

Once the meeting was over Y/N excused herself to prepare the food for dinner. Loki patiently waited to join her.

It was Bucky’s turn to help, which is how he found himself helping Y/N peel carrots in her apartment’s kitchen. Y/N had never been out on a date before let alone plan one, and according to Steve, Bucky was very popular with the young ladies back in their day. So, she decided to confide in her friend.

“Hey Bucky?” She spoke quietly.

“Yeah?” He asked.

She continued, “You’ve dated right?”

Bucky paused mid peel, “Not for a while. Why?”

Y/N took a deep breath, “I was wondering…if you were planning a date with someone, your first date…where would go?”

Bucky tried very hard not to smile. He was aware that Loki and Y/N had grown closer after the incident at the carnival, and he had his suspicions that the pair were romantically involved. In fact, he, Peter and Sam had made a bet as to when the two would become a couple. Although he wanted to know more, he decided to let it be. Loki and Y/N were private people, he didn’t want to pry, but he did want to help.

“I think the best way to a person’s heart is through their belly. You can’t beat good food and good conversation.” Bucky offered.

Y/N pondered this, “Somewhere fancy?”

Bucky shook his head, “Somewhere comfortable, you don’t want to feel overwhelmed before the date starts.”

Y/N nodded thoughtfully. She wondered where she could go where she would feel safe. She didn’t want to plan a date in the tower; it was too crowded and not at all romantic. Would she dare risk leaving though?

Bucky finished up his side of the prepping and was about to leave when he suddenly had a thought.

“You know, the bakery around the corner from here has a café. The tables are on a patio with ivy going up the windows and those little lights hanging from the beams. They play classical music too, it’s like you’re eating a croissant in heaven or something.” He laughed

Y/N looked at him confused.

He continued, “If I were going on a first date, and I happened to know that my date had a sweet tooth, I’d probably take them there.”

Y/N smiled, “Thank you Bucky.”

He sent her a quick wink and left, secretly hoping their date goes well.

After pretending to listen to one of his brother’s many stories, Loki decided enough time had passed for him to go and join Y/N. When he returned to their shared apartment, he was surprised not to find her cooking in the kitchen.

He decided to have a quick shower and freshen up before meeting his companion for a few more minutes of paradise.

Once dressed after his shower, Loki heard a light knock at his bedroom door.

He was pleasantly surprised to find who stood behind it. There was Y/N, and she looked beautiful. She wore a black turtleneck matched with a burgundy tartan skirt. Her ankle boots were laced up and she held her long black coat in her arms.

Unbeknownst to Loki, Y/N had been stood there for twenty minutes. She hah been struggling to calm her breathing and relax; so, she quietly paced outside his door and tried not to think about all the things that could go wrong. People could yell and hurl abuse at her, their stares could make Loki uncomfortable. She shook these thoughts away and repeated in her head ‘Loki will be there, I’ll be okay.’ That thought alone gave her the courage to go through with this.

Loki leant against the door frame with his arms crossed and grinned mischievously, “To what do I owe this pleasure.”

Y/N smiled nervously, “I’m taking you out…on a date.”

Loki’s eyes softened, “And you are here to escort me?”

She smiled, “Well you said you wanted to be wooed.” She teased.

He laughed, “Indeed I did. Shall we go to the library?” Loki asked.

“No umm…I’m taking you out-out. On a proper date, like people do…in the movies.” She explained.

Loki looked at her hesitantly and she feared she had done something wrong.

Loki noticed her nervousness and explained, “Y/N you don’t have to do that. I know I teased but I don’t want you to be uncomfortable…”

“I won’t be.” She interrupted, “This is something I want to do.”

The certainty in her voice almost assured Loki, but it was the determination in her eyes that had convinced him.

He grabbed his coat of the hook by the door and held out his arm for her.

“Shall we?”

When they entered the little pastry shop, Y/N was relieved to see that only two other tables were occupied, one by someone typing furiously on their laptop, the other by an old man sneaking treats to his dog under the table.

An elderly lady, with her hair combed back in a neat bun, wearing a flour covered apron, came to greet them.

“Hello Loki, not with you’re charming soldier friend?” She asked.

“Not today Margaret, I’m joined by much more delightful company today.” He spoke.

Margaret gave Y/N a warm smile, “Very pretty company too.” She said and winked at Loki. “Follow me, I’ve got the perfect table for you.”

They followed the kind old lady who escorted them to a small table in a secluded part of the café. It was a little booth, allowing them to sit close together. She handed them two menu’s and left them to peruse.

Loki noticed Y/N supressing a smile, “What is it?”

“She knows you.” Her words laced in a teasing tone.

Loki cleared his throat and blushed slightly, “Well me and Bucky tend to visit once or twice a week.”

Y/N looked up from the menu surprised, “You guys have a hang out?”

Loki rolled his eyes good naturedly, “Are you mocking me dear?”

Y/N placed her hand in his, “Not at all.” She assured, “I like that you and Bucky are friends and you’ve got this place. It makes me happy to see you so comfortable.”

Loki was touched by her words; he was moved by the joy he saw in her eyes, an emotion placed there just because he felt comfortable. She was an incredibly kind-hearted person.

“Enough about me, how are you feeling? Are you sure you’re okay with this?” Loki asked.

Y/N nodded, “No one is staring or whispering behind their hands. I like it here, it’s peaceful.”

Loki smiled in relief, “If Margaret can be so kind to a disgraced God and ex-assassin, you have nothing to worry about my dear.”

Y/N seemed assured by that, “She does seem quite fond of you.”

“Probably due to the announcement when I arrived.” Loki added.

Y/N was confused, “Announcement?”

“When I arrived at the tower?” Loki hadn’t realised she was unaware of the statement made, “To explain mine and Bucky’s ‘joining the team,’ Miss Potts made a public announcement explaining that we were under mind control when our devastating crimes were committed.”

“Oh.” Y/N hadn’t realised that these procedures had taken place, though come to think of it, people hadn’t shown too much animosity towards Loki and Bucky.

“I knew about the mind control.” She admitted. “I didn’t know about the announcements though.”

Loki nodded and slowly began to look sheepish, “So you know about…” he trailed off.

Y/N nodded, “I didn’t think it appropriate to ask. But if you ever felt you were ready to talk about it…I’ve been told I’m a good listener.”

Loki smiled at her words, “I may just take you up on that. But tonight, I would rather enjoy getting to know my date.”

She dazzled him with that smile again, and any lingering bad thought was chased away.

They ordered hot chocolates and too many pastries to count. They talked and laughed without a care in the world. Y/N was too happy to worry if anyone was angered by her presence; being able to hold Loki’s hand and sit so close to him without interruption was enough to make her feel safe.

Eventually their night had to come to an end, they got a doggy bag for their pastries and held hands as they walked the quiet route back to the tower.

“Maybe she went for a walk?” Bucky offered.

“Are you sure she’s not in the library?” Sam asked.

“Maybe she’s doing paperwork in the lab.” Bruce tried to sound reassuring.

Tony was pacing back and forth in the large meeting room. Tony hadn’t seen Y/N in hours; he had checked every corner of the tower, interrogated Peter about her whereabouts, he even had Happy roaming the streets.

“Tony please sit down. This is Y/N we’re talking about; she won’t have gone far.” Pepper tried to reason.

Tony sighed, “You know how scared she gets, what if someone yells at her or worse? She’s all alone…”

Thor walked in and interrupted, “Has anyone seen my brother?”

Everyone in the tower froze, except Bucky who was trying very hard not to spill the beans. Just as Tony was about to put a bounty on the trickster’s head, Y/N and Loki walked in with bags of pastries in their hands.

“Where have you…” Tony got ready to scold, but the look of pure happiness on his niece’s face made him pause.

“I went outside Uncle Tony!” She exclaimed happily. “No one yelled at me either. We brought back pastries too!”

She was a ball of energy; she spoke so quickly. Tony didn’t know how to react; how could he be angry when she smiled at him like that? Tony wondered when she had last looked so carefree.

His face softened and he smiled down at her, “That’s great Y/N.”

She smiled up at him, “I’ll go warm the pastries up.” She said, then practically skipped to the communal kitchen.

Tony looked at Loki, “Pastries?”

Loki couldn’t tell them it was a date, so he just shrugged and said, “She really wanted a chocolate danish.”

With that Loki left to help Y/N in the kitchen, leaving the avengers dumbfounded.

In the back of the room, Sam was handing a twenty-dollar bill over to Bucky.

#loki x reader #loki fandom #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #bucky barnes #sam wilson #peter parker #thor #tony stark #pepper potts #vision #wanda #avengers #steve rogers #bruce banner #natasha romanoff

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nananaptime · 4 years ago

Text

Had I Asked

Written for Writer of the Month on NCT Amino.

I did not think this was going to become that good but I’m surprisingly happy with it!

Masterlist Rules

Genre: Angst this time around yall

Word Count: 1 299

Summary: Confessions during an apocalypse is a given, isn’t it...

Getting separated from my friends was not the way I wanted this evening to go. On top of that, it was raining, hard. I had assumed running from flesh-eating zombies would be the biggest inconvenience of my day but the rain mixed with hail had beaten it surprisingly easy. However, not even the rain had ended up annoying me the most, the fact that I was stuck running through the woods with one of the most obnoxious people in town beat everything by hundreds of miles. Yukhei was, for one, very loud and didn’t seem to understand when quietness was in order, not even when running for our lives from the living dead in a rainstorm. His voice could be heard over the roaring thunder and he still would glare at me if I tried shushing him. Of course, running away on my own was no option, not because I can’t take care of myself, because I can, but because Yukhei wouldn’t let go of my wrist and kept dragging me behind him. He may be loud and annoying but the man is just as strong as he looks, maybe even more so.

I wrenched my hand free at last, and pulled him with me under a tree, hoping it would provide enough shelter for us to stay somewhat dry and be able to have a normal conversation without screaming.

“We need a plan,” I said as calmly as possible, trying not to shiver too hard due to the cold. “And before you answer with ideas or whatever, please try to keep your voice down, I ain't going down just because you can’t control your vocal chords.” A small sigh left his lips and he gave me an exasperated look which I returned, daring him to fight me on this. Eventually, he gave in.

“Fine.” He was basically whispering and I had to suppress a giggle at the fact that he had no middle ground. “There should be a cottage nearby, one meant for isolated vacations, I’m guessing it will serve well as shelter for the storm and the zombies outside.” I nodded, contemplating the idea while listening for dragging feet in case we needed to make a run for it. After having listened for a while, I determined that there were no zombies around at the moment so making a run for it was not currently a way to get ourselves killed. I grabbed Yukhei’s hand in mine, ignoring the sparks which made themselves up my arm, pressing the annoyance he usually causes me to cover them.

“Come on then.” No sooner than the sentence had left my lips did I drag him from his kneeling position and sprint out into the rain once again, hoping to not attract the attention of any flesh thirsty zombies. Yukhei easily overtook me and soon dragging me behind him once again.

The cottage he mentioned was closer than I had dared hope, not even ten minutes of running had gone by before I glimpsed it in the clearing between the trees. I was so relieved, I didn’t notice the root sticking out from beneath the earth and before I knew it, I was sprawled across the ground, a pain in my ankle radiating to my knee. I bit down on my lip, drawing a bit of blood, in an attempt to not scream out loud.

“Y/N!” Yukhei was beside me in a matter of seconds. He glanced at my ankle and winced, looking me in the eyes instead of my twisted ankle. “Let me carry you,” he said as he wiped the stray tears which had escaped my eyes as I tried not letting the pain get the better of me. All I could do was nod and Yukhei lifted me up bridal style in the most gentle manner. A manner I didn’t expect coming from a guy Yukhei’s size.

With my arms wrapped around his neck, he walked towards the cottage, keeping an ear out for any noises. All the while, I tried not to think of the pain I was experiencing as we got closer and closer to the cottage, to some kind of safety.

The cottage was small but it served its purpose; keeping us safe for the night so we could form some sort of plan. Yukhei sat me down on the only bed in the room and started taking a look around, looking for something to stabilise my ankle with. Finally, he located a box containing bandaids and bandages, some torn apart, others whole enough for usage. He brought the box over to me and cradled my ankle, causing a cry to leave my lips. He instantly let go, apologizing for causing more pain. I waited a second before telling him to continue, now bracing myself for the coming pain. Yukhei cradled my ankle with even more care as he wrapped the bandage around it. Once done he grabbed my hand and squeezed it, reassuring me without words that everything was going to be okay. He then laid down beside me, urging me to lay down and relax, as much as you could during these circumstances. He sighed slightly as we got comfortable next to each other.

“I wonder what happened to the others.” The concern evident in his voice. I turned my head towards him, rubbing my thumb across his hand.

“I saw Kun getting Ten and Yangyang with him, they’ll survive with him, I’m sure. Sicheng, Dejun and Hendery won’t go down without a fight, I’d say the odds are in their favour.” He relaxed slightly at my words but I could tell he was still worried. I changed tactic. “What were your plans for this summer before all of this?” He started talking about how he was going to visit his cousin in the north whom he was going to go on a road trip with. He recalled some memories with him, laughing after a while. I smiled, happy to have distracted him at least a little bit. He then turned to me.

“He was going to help me with some advice as well, but I think this epidemic has achieved that better than he ever would.” I gave him a quizzical look, silently asking him to elaborate. A small smile covered his lips. “He was going to give me advice regarding asking my crush out. This epidemic has urged me to just do it, If we’re going to die I would, at least, like to know your answer.” My breath hitched and I stared at him for a while, causing him to laugh slightly. “Yes, Y/N. I like you.” He said and booped my nose, an action seeming way out of place given the current situation. “So, what do you sa-” His sentence was cut short at the sudden noise outside the window. Yukhei was quick to his feet, he glanced outside looking for zombies intending to eat us alive, then he pulled the curtains together and approached the door.

“I’m going to see if I can make them go in another direction.” His hand was already on the handle when I called out.

“Wait! Yukhei, It’s too dangerous, let’s just barricade the door and hope for the best.” He approached my anxious figure, cradling my face in his hands, his eyes looking deep into mine.

“I’d rather have them get me than you.” The kiss he pressed to my forehead had tears running down my face. “Just… give me your answer before I leave. Had I asked, would you have said yes?” I nodded, not trusting my own voice, as the tears kept coming. A solemn smile made its way onto his face. “That’s all I needed to know.

Then he was out the door.

#nct #nct scenarios #kpop #kpop scenarios #scenarios #lucas #yukhei #wong yukhei #nct lucas #nct u #wayv #nctzen

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desperationandgin · 5 years ago

Text

Strawberry Wine; (Part I, Chapter 2)

Rating: General Audiences (for now)

Author: desperationandgin

Also Read On: AO3

Previous Chapter

A/N: Thank you so much for the enthusiasm surrounding this story! I have to thank my betas, @smashing-teacups, @missclairebelle, and @lcbeauchampoftarth - without the three of you, this would read like a college freshman’s first drunken essay. Thank you to my future-wife @filledwithlight for the incredible mood board. Here we go!

Chapter 2: Thirsting for Knowledge

By the time supper was served, more people had arrived than I expected. It became a reunion of sorts with everyone and my uncle, and I didn’t mind that it left me free to engage in my own conversation down the table. I was seated next to Jamie's childhood friend, Ian Murray. Across from me sat Jamie, and by the look on his sister, Jenny’s, face, she was happy to follow my lead and speak with the person across from her.

“Jamie, your home is beautiful. It must take a lot to maintain the grounds. Do you take care of by yourself?” I asked curiously.

When he shook his head, red curls bounced to and fro, barely grazing the sides of his neck. “No, I’m braw, but no’ quite that braw,” Jamie admitted. “Along wi’ my da and I, Ian helps in the stables and my godfather, Murtagh, lives wi’ us as well to help.”

My eyes scanned the faces at the table, unable to place a face with the name.

“He’s no’ here at the moment,” Jamie explained, realizing what I was doing. “He tends to business on my father’s behalf, ye see.”

“Well, I do hope to meet him, though I’m sure I will at some point in the next few months.” The prospect of living here, in the same house with the man across from me, made my stomach knot and my mouth dry.

“Oh, aye, should be the day after next. He’ll likely be bringing more wine from a shipment coming in from my cousin Jared’s warehouse in France,” Jamie explained, even as he poured to fill my current glass.

“Your family is quite impressive,” I noted with a soft smile. “What is it that you hope to do one day?” I realized I’d hardly touched my food and corrected my mistake by eating a few forkfuls of meat pie.

“At the end of the summer planting, I’ll be going to finish my studies in France along wi’ Ian, travel a bit and see more of the world. But after that, here is where I plan to be, to live and work the rest of my days.”

He would build a family here, I thought, as my mind drifted to thinking of his own curly, red-headed moppets, following him around and hanging on his every word. So far, I’d spent no more than ninety minutes or so with him, counting introductions and the courses of our meal. That was plenty of time to know anyone with common sense would follow Jamie anywhere. I couldn’t explain it, but he had an ease about himself that made him seem invincible. Not that he realized it, I posited. He was so charming and endearing that the word precious came to mind. His life would be filled with manual labor, but if seeing him without his shirt was any indication, his body was built for it. He’d looked like a strong, Viking warrior, taller than most Scots. I imagined his life would be filled with laughter as well; his eyes always seemed to dance with it.

“What about you, Sassenach?” he asked casually.

I blinked, turning my brain over in search of the meaning of that word. “What?” I responded ineloquently, wincing internally at myself.

“I mean, what do ye plan to do at the end of the summer?”

For some reason, I could feel my cheeks flushing red, and I cleared my throat, switching to the cool water glass for a sip. “I’m going to nursing school, in London,” I finally answered. “And after that, I’ll keep traveling with my uncle, I suppose, going from place to place.” Finding and discovering new things, and always on the move.

“Ye dinna think of ever settling down somewhere?”

His eyes seemed to be boring into my own, and when I wet my lips, I saw his stare drift down, then back to my eyes.

“I don’t know. I haven’t had a permanent home since the age of five. I believe the longest I’ve stayed anywhere was a year and a half, and that was only because I became ill and was bed-ridden for weeks.”

“What happened to ye?” he asked in alarm, looking me over now for signs that anything was still wrong.

I smiled, hoping that it eased him. “I was fourteen and contracted mononucleosis. It causes a fever and sore throat, not to mention extreme fatigue. I recovered fine, I promise,” I assured him.

He seemed concerned still, but soon settled back in his seat. Before he could speak, raucous laughter drowned him out, and we glanced down at the men laughing over one another’s stories. My gaze moved back to Jamie as he stood, then came around to my side of the table, bending to speak against my ear.

“Would ye care to walk wi’ me, Claire?”

I felt an involuntary shiver run up my spine and wet my lips once more before smiling up at him. I nodded, then scooted my chair back before offering my hand. When he took it, I stood and found myself just a bit shorter than him, my chin tilted up a slight bit to meet his gaze directly. Still holding my hand, he raised it to his lips and kissed the back of it. This is what having butterflies in your stomach feels like I thought to myself, feeling my stomach twist in a pleasant, likely cliché, way. Leading me away from the table, he tucked my arm into his and we walked through the dining room, the living room, and eventually out through the front door.

“What did you call me earlier? When you asked me what it was I wanted to do with my life?” I was curious; I assumed it was a Gaelic phrase and hoped it didn’t mean anything unpleasant.

“Oh, I called ye a ‘Sassenach,’” he replied easily. “It doesna mean anythin’ more than ye’re no’ from the place ye currently are. I suppose wherever ye go then, ye’ll be a Sassenach.”

I was quiet for a moment as I processed what he was saying. Maybe I was quiet for too long.

“I’m sorry, Claire, I didna mean to offend ye,” he apologized hastily, and I quickly looked over to reassure him.

“It’s alright. What you said isn’t untrue, I suppose. I’ve always thought of myself as a gypsy. Going from place to place and trading stories of other lands with the locals before moving along. And eventually, I’ll be able to help with medical needs in small communities with no access to proper health care.” It was the most I’d said about it so far, and I instinctively began to apologize for dominating the conversation when Jamie interrupted me.

“Ye must learn so much of the world, see things that most people never will,” he said in awe.

His appreciation of it and understanding why I would choose such a life put me at ease, and I nodded over at him. “I had one of the best educations a child can get, in my opinion. The world was my classroom.” Which sounded a bit forced to my own ears, so I swiftly changed the subject.

“When you travel, where do you want to go first?” I asked, eager to hear more of what he had to say.

“I dinna ken just yet,” he said, pausing for a moment before continuing. “I found a journal that my mam must have kept. She died when I was younger, so I read it, to be reminded of her. There was a list in the back, of all the places she wanted to see, so I thought I might honor her memory and begin there.”

I felt my heart swell in my chest at his sweet words and thoughtful idea. “I think that’s a wonderful idea, Jamie,” I encouraged. “Let me rephrase my question then. Where would you like to go first from your mother’s journal?”

“The first country listed is Greece; she wrote that she wanted to see all of the ruins. Have ye been, Sassenach?”

I nodded and turned my gaze toward him. “It’s beautiful and old. Even despite that, it’s so easy to see what it once was. I enjoy the mythology of it all, and the ocean is beautiful.”

“When I leave at the end of the summer, it will be the first time I’ve seen such large waters, and I’ll only be flying over them.”

“You’ve never seen the ocean?” I asked curiously as we walked on a path that meandered lazily toward a field of heather. The moon was bright and full, making the purple flowers seem translucent.

“No. After my mam died in childbed, my brother, Willie, died of a fever as well. I’ve never thought to leave Lallybroch and no’ help. I went to school each day, down in the village wi’ my sister, but ‘tis only because of my godfather moving here permanently that I feel alright wi’ going away now.”

And even then, in a few years, he would be right back here. He was a good man, a good son, and I found myself, for the first time, longing for that sort of feeling. To know that I could go anywhere and always come home.

“I’m sorry that you’ve lost so much, Jamie. I do think following your mother’s list is beautiful. Perhaps I could even help you plan, tell you where to go in each place that’s especially worth seeing?”

His grin at me was broad and I couldn’t help but return it.

“Aye, that would be verra kind of ye, Sassenach.” I supposed I had a new nickname, and I couldn’t find a reason to dislike it coming from his mouth. As we walked through the heather, his free hand grazed along the flowers before speaking again. “My da told me a wee bit about ye, that ye live a nomadic life. Has it always been you and yer uncle, then?”

I could tell he was curious but trying not to be blatantly nosey, and I reached to pat his arm both in reassurance and so that he would stop and we could sit on an old stone wall that cut across the field. Once settled, I crossed my legs at the ankles and braced my hands on either side of me. “My parents died when I was a very little girl, and my Uncle Lamb took me in, rather than have me shipped away to a boarding school in the mountains.” I thought back, to the first time I’d slept in my new (temporary) home. Everything had felt so cluttered with books and papers; it felt claustrophobic, and the bed hadn’t been mine. I could still remember lying awake until, eventually, my uncle began his nighttime ritual which included smoking his pipe. The smell had wafted to my nose and been such a reminder of home, that I’d fallen right asleep.

Jamie reached out to cover my hand and pulled me out of my thoughts. “Ye’ve lost too much as well then,” he said in understanding, but not pity.

“I suppose I have. But I can’t really remember my mother the way you remember yours.” I didn’t know how to explain it, that I’d spent more of my life without parents than with. It didn’t truly feel as though there was anything to mourn when I was raised by someone I loved and lived a life others envied. “I just mean, I don’t miss as much because there wasn’t enough time for me to make cohesive memories.” I had a sinking feeling I was making myself sound like a terrible person, but Jamie surprised me.

“Aye, I understand ye, Sassenach. Ye never had cause to truly be sad and lived happily. Ye dinna need to worry about that, ‘tis genuine.”

Without even realizing it, he’d soothed a quiet voice in the back of my mind and I couldn’t help but scoot a bit closer to him. When my hand drifted to rest on his leg, the rough fabric beneath my fingers reminded me of something I’d wanted to ask. “Do you and your father, your godfather, always wear kilts?”

“Aye, we do. Once the ban on them was lifted a couple centuries ago, it became a custom of the men left in the Fraser clan to wear them. And so, we’ve always upheld the tradition. There are times that call for trousers, but ‘tis my kilt I’ll wear on my travels as well.”

He was a proud Highlander; it was clear he would bleed for Scotland through and through. “I like that. The spirit of keeping your traditions alive, honoring your ancestors who fought and died on this land,” I murmured as I leaned into Jamie. The sounds of night were all around us, various insects coming to life somewhere beneath our feet, which dangled from the wall.

“May I ask ye a question, Sassenach?” Jamie asked, turning his head just enough that the words fell into my hair.

“Of course,” I responded, my speech lazy and unhurried to end the conversation and thus the walk with Jamie. So far, it seemed the attraction was mutual on both sides, and I decided to let the evening --and conversation-- go where it would.

“Do ye think in the future, our paths could cross on our travels? I ken ye said you’ll be going to nursing school, but after that, perhaps.”

I looked up at him in surprise. “You would want to travel with me?” I asked. Wasn’t the point of a young man traveling (before settling down) to experience life on his own, sow oats, and make memories, as it were?

“Who better a companion than someone who’s likely seen every place on my mam’s list? Besides, something tells me she wouldna want me to do it alone. She’d want me to bring someone along.”

I smiled softly and pulled back so I could look at him fully. “You would wait until I finished school?”

“Oh, aye. Two of those years, I’ll be finishing school myself, so that’s no’ a problem, Sassenach. And after that, I can do a bit of traveling wi’ Ian before circling back to London for ye.”

He already had a well-thought-out plan, and I stared at him in shock and amusement. “How long have you been coming up with this?”

There was only a small pause, small enough that I noticed it before Jamie spoke again, the tips of his ears turning a lovely shade of red. “Since I saw ye in the window, staring.”

His confession made my stomach twist in a way that made me tense in some sort of anticipation. Of what, I wasn’t sure. “Jamie, you should do some traveling alone, too. Experience things at your own pace for a while.”

“I will, there will be time for it when Ian and I part ways. He’s promised to Jenny, ye ken? So he’ll be coming back here to wed her I suppose, and after the wedding, I’ll have time enough to travel on my own.” He had a plan for every part of this and looked at me in expectation.

I couldn’t deny that the idea thrilled me. I wanted to know more about Jamie, I wanted to never stop talking with him. Already I missed the warmth of being pressed into the crook of his body. I’d never dated seriously before now and I suddenly understood why: it was supposed to feel like this. Nothing ever had before. I found myself agreeing before thinking any further on the matter.

“All right, Jamie. When I’m done with school, we’ll meet in London, and then go to Greece. Together.” Saying it made me smile; I’m sure it looked a bit crazed, because that’s how I felt making long-term plans with a man I’d only met hours ago. Still, I rationalized, for four years we would be slowly getting to know one another.

Taking hold of my hand, Jamie kissed the back of it. “Then it’s settled. I’ll wait for ye, Sassenach.”

We held one another’s gaze for a while, before the sound of Uncle Lamb calling for me from the house slowly filtered into my ears. For the most part, he knew I was a wanderer, but he was still protective of me in some ways, knowing I’d wandered with a boy.

“Come, Sassenach,” Jamie offered, standing and reaching out. He didn’t offer his arm this time, but his hand.

Smiling, I lowered myself to the ground before reaching out for him, tangling our fingers gladly. We seemed to fit together and walked leisurely back to his home. We let go of one another once we were within viewing distance, but exchanged sly looks as we walked through the archway. Moving toward Lamb, I kissed his cheek.

“You really should go on a walk of the property, Uncle. It’s beautiful.”

“Oh, yes,” he’d agreed. “And moreso in the daylight, I’m sure.”

His comment made my cheeks flush a bit and I was glad it was likely too dark to see. Once inside, the four of us were soon joined by Jenny and Ian, and we all enjoyed a dram of whisky. I listened as Brian regaled us all with a story about Jenny getting stuck in a tree and Jamie having to bribe her down with sweets. It was the sort of memory I lacked; one filled with playing with another child. I had no siblings, and it was always difficult to make friends as a young girl, traveled as we were.

Eventually, I could no longer hold my eyes open, and when I jerked awake after briefly nodding off, Jamie was looking at me, features soft.

“I could walk ye to your room if ye’d like,” he offered.

Deciding it was likely for the best, I bid my uncle and our company goodnight before letting Jamie lead the way upstairs. I fell into step beside him as we walked down the hallway, admiring portraits along the walls as we went. Outside of my door was a portrait of a woman with hair as red as Jamie’s.

“Your mother?” I guessed, my fingers hovering over the canvas, not touching.

“Aye,” he confirmed with a soft smile. “A self-portrait. She did all of them,” he explained, gesturing down the hall.

“She was an incredibly talented woman, Jamie,” I breathed out in genuine admiration. Pulling my eyes away from the portrait, I opened my bedroom door before turning to face him. “Thank you for your company this evening.” I wasn’t sure what else to say, but I hated that it sounded so formal. I hoped to remedy that by reaching for his hand, holding onto him again.

We locked eyes, and for a moment he let go of my hand, only to cradle it in his before tracing the lines of my palm with his fingers. I didn’t know what it was that made my heart tighten in my chest, but it also made my lips part and the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.

“Ye’re sae bonny, Sassenach,” he murmured then, fingers dragging along my life line. “And delicate.”

“I’m not made of glass,” I managed, swallowing heavily.

His eyes flicked to mine, and then he smiled, full of warmth, before raising my hand to his lips and bowing his head to kiss it. He lingered for beats longer than typical before letting me go.

“Goodnight, Sassenach.”

I felt myself reach behind me to grip the doorknob in an effort to keep from falling over.

“Goodnight, Jamie.”

I watched him smile one more time before walking down the hall and disappearing into his own room. I only had one thought as I stepped into my own quarters and shut the door behind me.

He’d picked a hell of a time to be a perfect gentleman.

Next Chapter

#outlander fic #outlander #jamie x claire #jamie fraser #claire fraser #strawberry wine #my fic

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lynne-monstr · 5 years ago

Text

strange partnership

Written for Tentacletober Day 2: Under the Sea

ao3 link

“Walk the plank, Lightwood.” The tip of Hodge’s blade prods Alec between the shoulders.

Alec squints against the sun, his rage burning hotter than the unrelenting heat of midday. He could beat Hodge with his hands tied behind his back. Unfortunately, he can’t say the same for all the rest of his traitorous crew.

“You’re all dead men,” Alec says. It’s bluster but that doesn’t mean it isn’t true. When Isabelle and Jace hear what happened to him, there’s nowhere far enough this group of scoundrels will be able to hide from their wrath.

With that, he jumps.

There’s time for one last desperate drag of air before the water closes over his head.

“So long, Captain Lightwood.” The mocking words of his first mate echo in his ears. Alec hopes Hodge chokes on them.

In the shadow of his own ship, he sinks like a stone, weighed down by the heavy chains around his wrists and ankles. It isn’t the way he wants to die– in the back of his mind, he always assumed he’d be hung by the Crown, punishment for breaking from his parents’ cruel legacy to become a pirate—but there’s something appropriate about finding his final resting place in the ocean he loves so much.

Plunging deep into the sea’s embrace is surprisingly peaceful. Or it would be, except for how Alec’s chest begins to burn. Still, he clings to his last shred of comfort. At least Isabelle and Jace aren’t here to share his fate.

It’s pure chance he sent them away on a scouting mission over a week ago. Their absence may have helped Hodge stage his mutiny, but it also ensured that Alec can bear this last agony alone without regret. It’s them he thinks of as the fire in his chest blooms into an all-encompassing inferno.

At first, he thinks the prodding against his lips is a hallucination, a fever dream brought on by his own impending demise. He ignores it, too consumed with the agony spreading through his limbs, the need for relief that will never come.

The gentle prodding is back, and something soft and pliable slips past his lips and into his mouth.

Instinct takes over, and he thrashes against the intrusion. Even if Alec wins, he’s a dead man, but at least he’ll die fighting and there’s comfort in that. His hands clench into fists where they’re bound and useless at his back, his legs kicking out at whatever sea creature wants a piece of him. Black spots devour his vision even as the last of his breath escapes him in a stream of bubbles.

He gasps, bracing against the inevitable rush of water.

“Breathe, pretty boy.”

The astonishment of hearing another human voice, warm and faintly amused, is nearly as shocking as the sweet relief of breathing fresh air this far below the sea. Alec is too consumed with filling his chest to wonder. He takes a long, greedy breath from the object in his mouth, and then another.

When his heart is no longer in danger of pounding its way out of his chest, he cautiously studies his surroundings. At this depth the water is a rich blue, with enough light to see that the object in his mouth is connected to something else.

Someone else.

Alec lets out a muffled gasp. A kraken, is his first, terrible thought.

But it’s no mythical monster whose tentacles have both ensnared and saved him. It’s a man. Well, half a man. Half a very muscular man. Despite his dire situation, Alec can’t help but stare. He’s laid with his share of men over the years but no one as beautiful as this. His eyes rake over broad shoulders, shapely arms, and a defined abdomen. Where there should be legs, the man’s tanned skin gives way to a mass of writhing, golden tentacles.

One of which is currently in Alec’s mouth.

It feels odd on his tongue, slippery and textured. It brings to mind a different activity entirely, and Alec has to wonder if that’s what this half-man-half-creature expects from Alec in return. Or if there’s a different reason he saved his life. He hasn’t felt this wrong-footed since the day he left home after learning of the atrocities his parents committed in the name of the Crown.

He can’t speak his endless questions aloud and so he tries to convey his thanks with his eyes. It must work, because the creature’s face softens and he swims forward until he’s nearly close enough to touch. Or would be, if Alec’s arms weren’t still bound. He pulls against the chains, hoping his rescuer will get the hint and free him.

“Eager to leave already?” The creature asks, a glint in his eyes.

Alec raises his head towards the surface, a silent affirmative.

“I suppose it wouldn’t be fair to keep you here, but I can’t take you back either.” A sense of dread settles over Alec. If this man takes him captive, there’s not much he can do. Hodge had taken Alec’s cutlass and his pistol before pushing him overboard. He doesn’t even have the set of thin metal rods that have gotten him out locked rooms before.

He swallows around the tentacle in his mouth, his throat suddenly dry.

The man must sense his fear, because he rushes to explain. “No, no, not like that.” Another tentacle comes up to brush against Alec’s shoulder and Alec flinches away. He shouldn’t care about the flash of hurt that flickers across the strange creature’s face but he does. Alec's mouth is half open in apology before he remembers himself and clamps back down on the only source of air he has.

The man’s face settles into a cool mask as he asks, “If I take you back up, am I to assume that whoever tossed your down here into my home will still be there?”

Slowly, Alec nods. Idiot, he’s an idiot. It might seem as if he’s been drowning for ages but barely a few sparse minutes have passed. The moment Alec shows his face above water, Hodge will kill him, with a gun instead of a watery grave this time. And if Hodge doesn’t, the rest of Alec’s traitorous crew certainly will. Alec’s heart sinks into his feet.

He has nowhere to go.

“You can come with me, I have a home on the surface.” the man says, and Alec imagines he sees the faint stirrings of hope behind his heavily lined eyes. Perhaps he’s lonely and wants the company. “I’ll even share my collection of human tools. I’ve amassed quite a large number over the centuries, you know. We can find a way to get you free of those pesky things.”

A tentacle pokes at the manacles and leg irons Alec is still wearing, and he’s more than a little relieved at the confirmation that he’s not going to be some kind of prisoner. He takes a last glance up towards the surface. The shadow of his ship looms large, a massive cloud across the blue of the ocean and sky.

He’ll get it back, but not today.

The man must see the despair on Alec’s face because his voice is soft when he adds, “Don’t worry, no one will find you if you don’t want to be found. You have my word.”

Alec nods, and this time doesn’t pull away when a tentacle winds itself snug around his waist. The man begins to swim, the mass of tentacles around his waist propelling them quickly through the water. At first Alec is terrified that it’s going to dislodge the tentacle allowing him to breathe, but after several minutes without catastrophe, he begins to relax.

His morning began with a betrayal by a man he considered family. It should be too soon to trust another, yet that’s exactly what he’s doing. Perhaps Isabelle is right after all. His heart is too soft for his own good.

The further they travel, the more the excitement of adventure stirs in Alec’s blood. He lost his ship but he still has his life. Looking over at the impossible man holding him pressed to his side, he considers that perhaps he’s gained a new ally as well.

A new ally whose name he doesn’t know. Alec still can’t use his hands, and so be bumps his shoulder into his rescuer. Who stills immediately, halting their progress through the water. “Are you okay, pretty boy?”

There’s that name again. Alec’s grateful for the chill of the water hiding the flush that would normally rush into his cheeks. He’s been called far more lewd things in his life, but none of them with such honesty. Alec’s usual response to those kinds of words is as quick as it is brutal. He doesn’t tolerate disrespect, not to himself and not to his crew. He knows how to react to insults, but this kind of open appreciation is new. A beautiful man who saved his life is calling him pretty. Alec don’t want him to stop.

But first he has a more pressing matter to deal with. How can he convey that he wants to know—?

He bumps his shoulder into the man’s chest again, willing him to understand. He looks down at himself before flicking his eyes back towards the man. All he gets in return is a blank look. Rolling his eyes, Alec does it again, this time making sure to point his chin directly at him.

“Oh!” The man says, a grin lighting up his face that Alec can’t help but echo even with his mouth occupied. “If you’re asking for my name, it’s Magnus.”

Alec grins as much as he can around the tentacle between his lips. Magnus. It suits him.

Magnus keeps up a steady stream of conversation the entire way towards his hideaway on the surface. It helps keep Alec’s mind off the indignity of his situation.

Then again, it’s hardly the worst predicament he’s found himself in since making a name as a notorious pirate captain. He once had to sneak out a window of the governor’s son’s room at dawn when the local militia caught wind of his location. There wasn’t even time for him to dress, or he'd risk a hanging. Jace has never let him forget that particular folly.

The moment Magnus hauls them both onto land, his tentacles fade into long, muscled legs, including the one feeding Alec air while underwater. With his mouth freed, the first thing Alec does is offer his name. Tit-for-tat was his first lesson all those long years ago after leaving his parents' home. He still needs to find a way to repay this man his kindness but at the very least he can offer his name. And try not to stare at the hard, unclothed lines of Magnus’ very human-looking body.

Later, once Alec is released from his bindings, the rush of relief he expects never actually comes. It takes him a moment to understand it’s because he never doubted Magnus’ word or his intentions. He tries not to dwell on what that means and instead works the ache of out his shoulders, his mind occupied with plans of revenge.

A set of heavy footsteps comes up beside him. Magnus has changed into a set of black pants and a loose linen shirt with a deep neckline. In his hands is a sheathed sword attached to a thick belt.

He looks like a pirate captain and Alec can’t help but stare.

“I used to be one, almost a century ago,” Magnus admits, “but I tired of it and I missed the sea, so I returned to my old home.” Instead of buckling the sword around his waist, Magnus holds it out. Alec blinks, not understanding. “If you’re going to take your ship back, you’re going to need a captain’s weapon.”

“What about you?” Alec asks, and winces at his boldness. He can hardly expect Magnus to keep helping him. He’d already done far more than his share.

Magnus blinks, something like wonder in his eyes. “Me?”

“You saved my life. I could use an ally in this.” Alec pauses, remembers the fleeting glimpses of hope on his face when Alec first accepted his offer of sanctuary. He takes a chance. “I could use a friend.”

“I suppose I have nothing else to do.” Magnus’ strong shoulders sway as he closes the distance between them.

The sword hangs between them, and this time Alec takes it, his grip firm and sure.

“As long as you don’t mind…” Magnus trails off, and when Alec blinks he can see the translucent outline of tentacles around Magnus’ hips.

He reaches out with the hand not holding the sword, surprised when the tentacle feels solid in his hand. His thumb traces a line around one of the raised ridges and for a split second, Magnus’ mouth falls open, his breath hitching. He recovers so fast Alec almost thinks he imagined it.

Almost.

“I don’t mind at all,” Alec says, and means it. He doesn’t bring the tentacle to his lips but he hopes one day he’ll have that right.

Their strange partnership is just beginning and Alec doesn’t know what it will entail, but he’s looking forward to finding out.

#shadowhunters #malec fanfic #magnus bane #alec lightwood #malec #tentacletober #lynne writes fic #magnus x tentacles #here have some very indulgent pirate au for day 2 #a much shorter version of this was supposed to be my fic for the underwater prompt of ficlet instruments but i couldn't make it work

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strangerivy · 5 years ago

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Let The Rain Fall - Three

Summary: Elena and Jasper's relationship blossoms into something but will it stay that way when she finds out his family’s secret? Warnings: Anxiety Attack, Swearing Pairings: Jasper x OC (Elena) Genre: 17+ | Fluff Word Count: 3667 Author’s Note: Let me know what you think! I am always open to feedback to better my writing ♥

Links: || One | Two | Three | Four || Masterlist ||

Jasper didn't come back to the cafeteria and he wasn't in History class either. A no show the next day also. I was beginning to worry that something bad had happened. Bella was acting strange too and so was Edward. I wanted to ask them if they had heard from Jasper, but I didn't want to push my boundaries since our friendship was still new and I really didn't want to jeopardize that. I was enjoying having friends in this new school and town.

I sat in my living room waiting for Bella to come to pick me up for school. It was raining again so I sat there silently listening to the rain. It was calming, taking my mind off Jasper for a minute. A knock on the front door pulled me out of my thoughts. I stared at the door confused on who would be here this early, I knew it wasn't Bella because I would have heard the roar of her truck pull in. I pushed myself up off the couch grabbing my crutches to get to the door. I opened it and Jasper was standing there.

"Good Morning," He greeted with a shy smile. I looked past him thinking maybe Bella was with him, but she wasn't. He sensed my confusion "Bella rode with Edward today and I offered to come to get you if that's alright?" He looked worried that I might reject him not that I could with my ankle being sprained. I had no other way to get to school unless I woke my mother up but I didn't want to do that.

"No, that's fine," I went to reach for my backpack but ended up almost falling over he caught me by the shoulders, grabbing my backpack for me, "Thank you," I whispered my cheeks turning red from embarrassment.

I followed him out the door closing it behind me, he was driving a black Volvo. He walked over to the passenger door helping me get in and putting my backpack and crutches in the back seat for me. The car ride was quiet besides the radio which was playing some soft oldies. I smiled as it made me think of my grandparents. They always listened to this kind of music. He got in the car and began driving to school I shifted in my seat to face him, trying to see if he would tell me where he disappeared to for the last day and a half.

"Where were you?" I blurted out not able to contain my curiosity anymore after a few minutes of the silence. He looked over at me but stayed silent, I scrunched my face a little annoyed. "I mean if it’s a family matter you can just tell me," I mumbled facing back forward and sliding down in my seat a little turning to look out the window watching the rain hit the window.

"It’s not that, it’s just..." We were pulling into the parking lot now, I looked over at him and I could tell he was trying to think of what to say.

"Jasper, it’s okay. You can just tell me when you’re ready," I gave him a smile trying my best to let him know it was okay, he reached over and grabbed my hand and gently squeezed it as if to say thanks. He opened his door and got out of the car walking over to help me out. When we started walking to the school that's when I noticed people were staring. Oh god. My body instantly tensed up from the stares.

"People are staring," I whispered over to him, he must have not noticed since he looked around and grinned.

"Yes, I suppose they are,"

"Why are they staring?" I didn't understand why there was such a fascination that Jasper and I arrived at school together. People clearly saw us a few days before in the hall together and the cafeteria. Were they staring then? He laughed and placed his arm around my shoulders. Some people continued to stare while others began to redirect their eyes as if they were interrupting a private moment between us. I looked up at him confused about what he was doing but I didn't reject the motion. I knew I had feelings for him, and it appeared he returned those feelings, but I needed verbal confirmation.

My anxiety was starting to act up and my body was starting to heat up as if I was standing in the middle of the desert. My breathing was starting to become staggered and I start to look around in a panic, trying to find somewhere to run and hide. Jasper noticed and kind of panicked before redirecting our walk toward some cars that would put us out of view of everyone. He stopped and got in front of me placing his hands on my shoulders. I felt as if I wasn't getting any air into my lungs and I couldn’t directly look at him. My senses were on overload.

"Woah, Woah there darlin'. What's going on?" His voice was soft and calming, he put his hand on my cheek rubbing circles with his thumb. I opened my mouth but there were no words coming out. I didn't really know what to say. Do I just confess my feelings for him? What if they aren't mutual? What if it’s all in my head? My thoughts were defiantly against me at this moment.

"I just... I..." I still couldn't find them; I felt my eyes beginning to water. Oh no. He pulled me in wrapping his arms around me. I nuzzled into his shoulder taking some deep breathes to calm my nerves. He shushed me rubbing my back softly trying to calm me down. It was like a wave rushed over me that instantly relaxed my body and I felt calm again. My body temperature went back to normal and breathing was back to normal. I was amazed that this guy, who I had just met, could calm me so well. He pulled back but kept his hands on my arms looking at me to see if I was okay.

"I like you," I blurted out, my cheeks heated up but that was it. He smiled and gave a small laugh.

"That's it?" He asked tilting his head slightly with a smirk, "I like you as well Elena," I smiled even though mentally I was jumping with joy.

"Well," I started out shifting my crutches as they started to become uncomfortable in my current position. "Now that that is out of the way, we should head to class." He nodded placing his arm back around my shoulder and we walked into the school.

My first three classes went as normal. I was excited to see Bella and to talk to her about Jasper. I walked into my fourth period after saying goodbye to Jasper and she was in her seat, she gave me a smile as I walked over to her.

"Someone seems happy," she said as I sat in my seat. "I take Jasper told you how he felt?"

"As a matter of fact, yes. Yes, he did." I confirmed pulling out my English book. We were reading Romeo and Juliet. I had already read the book, but it was a classic, so I didn't mind reading it again.

"You know, he really adores you. He's normally...very distant towards people." I looked at her kind of bewildered at that fact because he didn't seem that way to me but looking back, I have also never seen him talk to anyone else besides me and his family and of course Bella. He seemed to avoid people now that thought about our interactions together.

The teacher came in at that point, so we couldn’t continue our conversation. At lunch, things were much calmer than the day before but that might have been because Emmet and the sister weren't at school that day.

Jasper drove me home after school and I thanked him as I got out.

"I'll pick you up tomorrow as well if that's alright with you." He asked as I got out of the car. I nodded and shut the door walking up to my door, he waited to leave till I was in my house. My mom was gone to work already so it was just me at the house. I sat down on the couch and took the brace off my foot. The swelling was down, and the bruise wasn't too bad. Maybe it was just twisted. I stood up to see if I could put any weight down on it. There were some shots of pain up my leg, but they were bearable. I wanted to go walking again but decided a few more days of healing would probably be best. I went to my room and grabbed my laptop. I wanted to do some research on those wolves. There had to be some reasonable explanation.

After an hour or so of researching, I had next to nothing in answers. The only things I could get were legends or myths but of course, that was useless to me. I sighed shutting my laptop calling it a day. I got out of my clothes and into bed. I dreamed that night of the wolves but also Jasper.

I stood in the middle of a field that was full of flowers and when I looked up in front of me there stood a large black wolf with the same yellow eyes I saw in the woods. It was huge, on all fours it had to be over five feet tall. Jasper appeared next to me, but something was different. His posture was defensive as if he was going to attack the wolf. I began to panic after to notice that. I moved in front of him trying to be a barrier between him and the wolf.

"Jasper no! It will kill you!" I yelled at him trying my best to push him back to run. A low growl came from him, a growl that sounded inhuman. I backed away from him unsure what to think. I looked at him and that's when I noticed his eyes, they weren't there normal golden color they were black. "Jasper?" and then he charged the wolf.

I woke up in a sweat not sure what to make of the dream. I looked over at my clock and in bright red numbers, it read 6:00AM. I sighed deciding I should just get out of bed. The dream bothered me, it was so real, why would Jasper charge the wolf? What could that mean? Why were his eyes black? I shook my head trying to erase the dream from my memory it was clearly nothing. There was no way a wolf could be as tall as a human. I went out to the living room once I got done changing and sat on the couch looking out the window waiting for Jasper to get here.

His eyes. It was honestly terrifying how black they were and the way he just stood there. Like that wolf wasn't about to tear him to shreds, almost like he could beat it in a fight. I heard a knock pulling me out of my thoughts and I got up to answer the door it was Jasper. I smiled up at him, grabbing my backpack off the floor.

"No crutches?" He asked noticing I was standing on my own. I shook my head and pushed my hair out of my face stepping out and closing the door behind me.

"No, it’s actually feeling a lot better. I must have just had a bad twist." He opened the door of the car for me and I got in. The ride was quiet.

"Something is bothering you," He stated as we reached the school. Was it that obvious?

"I just had a really weird dream last night," I told him getting out of the car once he parked. He put his arm around me as we walked to the school. "It was about that wolf I saw, and you were in it too."

"I was?" he asked looking down at me with a curious glint in his eye as we continued to walk to my first-period class. I nodded pulling my backpack in front of me digging in it for my math book.

"Yeah, but I mean it was really weird. Your eyes were black. I mean just pure black. It was kind of terrifying" I could feel his body tense up and his arm fell from my shoulders, I looked up at him confused and he had this look on his face that just seemed off.

"Hey, it was just a dream." I grabbed his hand and his face relaxed and he gave a soft smile. He leaned in and kissed my forehead before walking off without a word, leaving me there confused in front of my first class. I watched him till he was out of sight before opening the door to my first class.

He didn't meet me after my classes after that and he sat with his family at lunch. I kind of pushed my food around on my tray not hungry. I looked over at him and he made eye contact giving a small smile that was almost sympathetic before looking away talking to the pixie hair sister. I swear him and his family could give me whiplash with how they acted. It was like he was holding something back something he wanted to tell me but didn't want to at the same time. I sighed and looked away from him. I tried to not let it bother me but deep down it really did, we were still getting to know each other, and I didn't expect him to just pour his whole life out to me, but I didn't expect this.

I decided I would confront him after school when he drove me home today. I got into six-period and we just sat there listening to the teacher, no hello or whispers about history like we normally did. I was doing well before by at least not letting it show that it bothered me but now that he was next to me, I couldn't help it, I slouched in my chair staring at the clock the rest of the class. Once the bell rang, we walked to his car in silence and I was a few paces behind him. Once we were in the car I mustered up as much courage as I could before speaking.

"What’s going on with you?" I demanded "I mean, I tell you about my dream and then you just completely shut me out. I know we're not dating or anything but-" I was cut off by his lips. At first, I didn't kiss back my wide as I tried to process what was happening but once I realized what was happening I began to kiss back my eyes fluttering closed. His lips were soft, and I felt like my breath was taken right out of me. He pulled back looking at me trying to see my reaction. I opened my eyes and looked into his golden ones. They seemed darker than usual, but it was probably the lighting.

"Well umm, that... that only answered half of my question." I fumbled with my words trying to process what had just happened. He grabbed my hand and began to rub circles on my hand with his thumb.

"Elena, I need you to do something." I raised my eyebrow at him, was he really asking me a favor right now? After today? "I need you to...I need you to ask Bella about my family."

"Why?" I was really confused now. Why wouldn't he just tell me what is going on?

"It would just be better if she told you. If I did, you might not believe me." Well, that's a load of crap and made absolutely no sense. I turned in my seat looking out the window and he sighed starting the car going to my house. We pulled up and my mom’s car was gone so no one was home. This wasn't unusual, I spent most of my childhood either alone or with my grandparents before they passed.

"I don't want to ask Bella." I blurted out as he put the car in park. "Jasper. Just tell me what the hell is going on." I pleaded turning to face him, I wanted to hear it from him. I didn't want to go and ask someone else about him, I needed to hear it from him. He nodded and opened the car door and walked over opening my door and offered me a hand. I took it and followed him up to the house. I unlocked the door and he followed me in. He looked around as if trying to see if anyone was home.

"No one’s here. Just us." I put my hands in my pocket not sure what to do. He looked down trying to see what to say first, I was about to say something when he looked up at me.

"My family and I... we’re not like everyone else." He started my mind immediately went to mass murder or cult, but I shook that thought off as it was ridiculous. I looked at him and I could tell this was going to be a long conversation, so I sat down on the couch motioning him to join me. He disappeared. I looked around completely bewildered when I noticed the couch was pushed down next to me. I looked over and there he was. I jumped back freaked out on how he had moved there so quickly. That was physically impossible. No human can move that quickly.

"What in the actual fuck!" I yelled completely shocked. I grabbed the couch pillow as if to build some sort of barrier between us. How did he do that? How did he move so fast? My reaction was clearly amusing to him which made me frown, "this is no time for jokes Jasper,"

"No, no your right." His face went serious and he moved slowly grabbing the pillow from me slowly putting it behind him and moving closer to me putting his hand on my knee. Well, there goes my ammo. "This is going to sound... I'm not really sure-"

"Jasper just tell me!" I interrupted; I was growing impatient and my heart felt like it was beating out of my chest. He took a deep breath before looking me directly in the eyes.

"We're vampires." I immediately started laughing, I almost fell off the couch from laughing. I looked back at him and noticed he was dead face serious and my laughter started to slowly die off as I began to realize what he was telling me was true.

I looked down at my hands trying to understand what he just said. That's not possible. That's when it all came rushing at me. The cold hands. The eyes. The speed. Holy Shit. I jumped off the couch backing into the wall trying to put as much distance between me and him as I could. My eyes were wide, and I thought my heart was right back to beating right out of my chest. He appeared right in front of me which only startled me more. I slipped around the corner running into my room to see him already standing there.

"What the actual fuck Jasper?" I yelled not sure what to do grabbing the snow globe off my desk getting ready to throw it, there was clearly no outrunning him. He moved towards me at a more human pace holding up his hands as if it was a sign, he wasn't going to hurt me. He slowly reached up and grabbed the snow globe from my hand setting it back down on the desk. I felt a calmness rush over me, and I looked over at him in a panic. How can I feel calm in a moment like this? In what world would I feel this calm.

"Elena. I need you to listen." I opened my mouth but shut it as I had no words, "I am a vampire but my family and I we're... we're sort of what you would call vegetarians."

"Vegetarians?"

"Yes, we don't hunt people. We hunt animals." I stared at him. This had to be a dream. This couldn't be real. I had to be dreaming. "Elena?" I looked at him staring right into his eyes and that's when I saw it. He was scared, terrified even.

"I..." I shut my eyes and took a deep breath pinching the bride of my nose, "I need some time." I whispered before opening my eyes to look at him and he nodded. He got up and I followed him out but stayed a few steps back. He turned before leaving the house taking a few steps toward me closing the space between us. He leaned down and kissed me. I closed my eyes kissing him back and he deepened the kiss. That's when I knew. I would follow this man anywhere. No matter what he told me or what he was. I would go where he went. I was disappointed when he broke the kiss holding back the whine that I almost let out. I was almost tempted to change my mind and tell him to stay but I knew I needed to think. To process this all.

"When you’re ready. Call me." I nodded as if I was telling him I would and he left, shutting the door behind him. I locked the door and turned around leaning on it sliding to the floor running my hands through my hair. I quickly got up going over to the couch grabbing my phone. It rang until I heard an answer on the other line.

"Elena?"

"Bella? We need to talk."

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lovinnscarletknight · 5 years ago

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Billionaire - Part Three

Part One || Part Two

Ahhhh!!! I’ve reached 200 followers and I couldn’t be more thankful for you all :) I hope you enjoy part three of Billionaire and I can’t wait to share the following parts with you.

Tag list is open, just drop me a line! Enjoy - Angela x

Word count: 1479

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The flicker of hope that her father held onto really worked. Now he never has to know this, but Katherine could hear everything when she was laying there; honestly it was the strangest experience she’ ever had. Now the girl is laying in the bed after the surgery done by this ‘amazing doctor’ in her father’s words, and he saved her; Katherine was glad Liz is ok, but she didn’t know what is going to happen when she woke up. She heard the door close and the familiar sound of Tony’s heavy footsteps along with another she couldn’t detect.

“Mr Stark, I hope you realise Ms. Stark had a very big surgery for a girl her age and I’m happy to say her vitals look good and she will make a full recovery” She imagined her father’s face lighting up at his words. It made Katherine happy to think about it; she really missed all of them, no matter how protective they all are, they’re her family. She felt Tony’s warm hand hold her own and it send a pang through her arm making her squeeze his hand.

“Katherine?” He whispered, and she pushed myself to open her eyes. As Katherine did, she groaned at the bright light that invaded her vision, it was like when you’ve been sat in the movies for ages and come back out. As she blinked, all her senses started kicking in and she heard the slow beep of the machine she was attached to and the ache in the back of her head, chest and arms. Katherine saw her father’s smiling face and his eyes watering.

“Don’t embarrass me” Katherine said squeezing his hand, her voice scratchy and throat dry. He laughed at the comment and continued to watch his daughter, she thought he felt like she could slip away any second. Katherine looked away from her father and to the doctor. He was about six-foot-tall with dark hair and a dark beard, he looked kind of menacing, but she was thankful he did this for her, “Mr Stark, if you could leave the room for a couple of minutes so I can have a word with Ms. Stark” He nodded hesitantly and kissed his daughter’s head leaving the room. Katherine didn’t feel safe being alone with this stranger.

“Now, Katherine, this may hurt just a little bit. In order for the operation to be successful, it relied on this one last dose of the serum. Being part of my experiment, it has been a roller coaster but by your father letting me operate, you’ve complied. It was just too easy. Maybe your father will think of other people now rather than just himself” The teenager’s brows furrowed as he pulled out a syringe full of an orange mixture. Katherine cringed at the size of the needle and he grabbed her arm holding tight, so she couldn’t pull away, “Currently that machine is keeping your heart pumping, if you scream, I pull the plug” She heard the heart monitor start beeping more rapidly. When she wasn’t watching the man stabbed the needle into her vein causing her to groan in pain. He pushed the syringe until it drained and then quickly packed up his stuff, “Thank you Ms. Stark for your cooperation” Before Katherine could reply, she blinked twice, and he was gone.

Looking down at her arm, she saw the liquid spreading through her veins, it was pushing past the blood and Katherine started writhing in place. A nurse held her arms down as she started to move in a fitting movement. Katherine didn’t know what was happening and was panicking. Tony ran in, his eyes widening, and the rest of the team crowded outside the door just as she stilled.

***

“I promise you, I’m fine Dad. Now get out so I can change” She demanded before he left the room holding his hands up in defeat. She had finally been discharged after a week of people being way to kind to her. After the episode, Tony made sure she always had someone in the room with her, even if it was just a nurse, he didn’t want anything to jeopardise her recovery. The girl was still not sure what that man injected into my arm, but she knew it wasn’t good, that is probably what scared her. Carefully, Katherine pulled the leggings over her swollen ankle and put the supporting boot around it. She had fractured the bone in three places and as soon as she got back to the tower she was to start physiotherapy; she also had a brace supporting her left wrist but that was ok. Katherine pulled the old shirt over her head, her torso covered with white bandage to support her ribs. She caught sight of her healed scars from her previous accident in the mirror and the smaller ones that littered her arms. The ones she had put there. Her fingertips ghosted the dark marks; she had struggled but pulled through, but it didn’t make the pain any easier.

Once she was changed, Katherine grabbed the bag and stood, a bit wobbly and headed towards the door. Pepper and Tony were talking when they spotted her and came to her aid. Tony grabbed the bag and Pepper her arm and they slowly guided the girl to the car. “Everyone is so excited to see you” Tony said as he put the bag in the boot.

“Dad, I look awful there better just be the team there and none of my friends. I don’t want them to see me like this. They can see me on Monday at school” She told him as he helped her into the car. Sighing he nodded and they drove back to Avengers Tower. Katherine kept quiet on the drive back thinking about what people school must be thinking. She hasn’t written to her brother in two weeks and she doesn’t even know if she has received any letters from him or missed any calls. Katherine played with the ring on her middle finger as Tony pulled into the garage and came to a stop.

“Welcome back Mr Stark, how is Ms. Stark?” FRIDAY asked. Katherine smiled that FRIDAY was so formal when she’s told him time and time again that he should call her Kathy, but he never does. “Why don’t you ask her for yourself?” Tony said as she pushed herself out of the car. Katherine grabbed onto Tony’s arm as she wavered slightly.

“Good to be home” She said, and FRIDAY responded with a compliment. Katherine let go of him and she walked herself to the elevator feeling confident that she could do it myself; however, it would’ve looked more like a lame hobble because the boot added an inch to Katherine’s normal height, and she was wearing a pump on her good foot. The elevator moved just as quick as she remembered it and Katherine started to get nervous as they approached the floor holding everyone else. Her mind wandered for a minute thinking about what would’ve happened if she did die. Tony would probably turn to drinking and Thomas would leave. Pepper would be gone, and the team would’ve fallen apart because Tony wouldn’t be interested.

Katherine smiled at the fact that she was about to see her extended family for the first time in two weeks. The doors open, and everyone turned from their conversation to look at the teenage girl. Squeezing Tony’s hand, she stepped out of the elevator and she was engulfed in a hug by Natasha. Natasha was like her big sister and the girl had missed her tons, Katherine heard her sniffle and smirked slightly.

“Is the almighty Black Widow crying?” She teased, and Natasha pushed her shoulder’s slightly, “Lay off” Natasha warned and helped her sit down. Everyone flocked around her and they sat and talked for a while until the early evening and Katherine yawned.

“Honey maybe it’s time to bed?” Tony asked, and she nodded. Tony tried to help her up, but she swatted his hand away and used Clint’s hand to push herself up. She then grabbed Tony’s arm and helped her to her room which was luckily on the same floor. They both stopped at her door and open it to be greeted with her made bed and the curtains already drawn. Katherine turned to Tony who was still firmly grasping onto her arm and looked up to him, he quickly wrapped his arms around the girl, and she rested her head on his chest; and this is how they stayed for a couple of minutes.

“I’ll be ok Dad, I’ll see you in the morning” Katherine told him dropping her arms from holding him and he let go of her reluctantly, “Love you” She smiled and went to close her door before she heard him whisper.

“Always”

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master-sass-blast · 6 years ago

Text

Paint it Red

DEAR GOD THIS TOOK FOREVER. HOLY SHIT.

Summary: You and Piotr celebrate Valentine’s Day together --and because Piotr is Piotr, he knocks it out of the park by spoiling you at every turn.

This is a fluff fic. Not a drop of angst in sight. You’re welcome.

Rating: E for HOLY SHIT HOW DID SO MUCH SMUT END UP IN THIS?

Warnings: Consumption of alcohol, roadhead (drive safe, kids), and graphic (consensual) sex.

Pairings: Piotr Rasputin x Reader.

Tag list: @marvel-is-perfection

Side note: The lyrics in the beginning portion are from Paramore’s “The Only Exception.”

Special thank you to @starman-thorsus-canos-jock for beta reading this! If you hadn’t, this wouldn’t be getting uploaded tonight because I wouldn’t have had the guts to do it!

“When I was younger/ I saw my daddy cry/ And curse at the wind...”

You hum along with the song playing on your phone, swaying back and forth slightly as you work on applying your makeup for the evening.

You’d never celebrated Valentine’s Day as a child --save for once, when you’d been on your uncle’s farm when the holiday had rolled around, and he’d decided to celebrate with you by fixing both of you massive ice cream sundaes and telling you about all the ridiculous bad dates he’d been on.

Sometimes, you think that man’s the only reason you have any sense of humanity in you.

Wade, technically, had properly introduced you to the holiday once you arrived at Xavier’s. He’d tossed five different bags of red, white, and pink wrappered candy in your lap before putting some sort of classically bland and saccharine rom-com on and watching it with you.

You still have some of the wrappers saved, tucked away in a box in your closet.

Piotr, though, had been the one to introduce you to Valentine’s Day to a whole new level; he’d kept things tame during your first year together, at your request, but the night --an evening picnic in his art studio, complete with candles and flowers--had been completely and utterly perfect.

This year, though, you’d given him free reign to do what he wanted --he’s the planner of the two of you, with legal access to a car and legally earned money in his bank account

--and thus far, you’re completely and utterly swept off your feet by what he’s come up with.

He’d told you to pack an overnight bag last night, with reasonably detailed instructions on what to pack: a nice dress and things to pair with it for an evening out, pajamas, and comfortable clothes for the drive back the next morning.

And toiletries, makeup, etcetera etcetera --not the fucking point.

Because the fucking point is that the next morning he’d surprised you with breakfast in bed before telling you to get dressed and grab your bag. And then he’d driven you to the fanciest fucking hotel you’ve ever seen and revealed that not only had he booked a room for the night, but he’d made reservations at a restaurant that --when you’d taken a moment to look it up on your phone--was so expensive it nearly made you fall over.

How he could afford it was beyond you, but leave it to Piotr Rasputin to blow every guy on the face of the planet away on Valentine’s day.

A day out of the mansion, away from everyone, just for the two of you.

There’d even been a vase of roses and a box of chocolates waiting in the room, as per instructions your wonderful boyfriend had left with the hotel staff.

Again, leave it to Piotr Rasputin.

He’d taken you out to lunch, then to a nearby art museum and showed you around with the intensity, passion, and mild distractedness that only an artist could have in such a place.

And you’d watched him, entertained and enthralled and endlessly endeared.

And now, now you’re back at the hotel, getting ready for what promises to be a fabulous dinner.

“You are/ the only exception/ You are/ the only exception--”

You sing along with the song, swaying as you continue working on your makeup. You’re almost done and all you’ve got left is to change into your dress --you’d thought it best to leave it off until your makeup was done and put away, thus making spills impossible--and put on your shoes. You grumble as you try to get your eyeliner done --and realize that, perhaps just maybe, swaying isn’t exactly conducive to making even eyeliner wings. “Why. Is. Eye-line-r so damn hard? Why. Is. Eye-line-r so damn hard?”

A loud snort from the bathroom door makes you pause.

Piotr’s wiping at his eyes as he braces himself against the door frame. “Did you mean to sing that with the song?”

You smirk and shrug. “Hey, I think I’m onto something. Just you watch, it’ll be the greatest hit of the year.”

“Are you almost ready, myshka? Our reservation is soon.”

“Yeah, yeah --fuck it.” You cap your eyeliner pen and toss it in your makeup bag. “Who needs wings? They’re just a pain in the ass anyway.” You swipe on some lipstick, do an obligatory lip pop at the mirror, and then change into your dress for the evening.

It’s a relatively modest, lacy, red number that neither clings to you like a second skin or hugs your every curve. It does, however, fit you properly, match Piotr’s tie perfectly, and make you feel like a princess or a superstar when you wear it, and that’s all that really matters, isn’t it?

(For the record, it is.)

You put on your shoes --a pair of black pumps with enough heel to make you sound fancy without being high enough to risk twisting any ankles--then fluff your hair before doing a little spin. “How do I look?”

He smiles at you, dreamy and almost shy. “Krasivaya. Always.”

Beautiful.

You can’t help but preen a little at his praise, and take the arm he offers to you. “Take me to dinner, Mr. Rasputin.”

He chuckles as he opens the door that leads to the hall for you. “But of course, dorogaya moya.”

The restaurant is located near the Hudson river, and is out of the city enough that you don’t have to worry about getting clipped by a taxi when you get out of the car.

It’s the small things in life, really.

Piotr hands his keys to the valet before opening your door and holds out a hand to you. “Moya lyubov’.”

Some whimsical, inane, distracted part of your brain whisks you away in a bizarre sort of fantasy, where’s he’s actually a Russian crime lord and you’re some kind of waitress or college student or otherwise financially strapped young woman that’s being seduced by the trappings of luxury and crime, and he’s in turn being charmed by your plucky personality and down-to-earth sensibilities.

Granted, it’s not the weirdest thing your mind’s ever come up with, so you just giggle and let him escort you inside.

Given how all out Piotr’s been going for the holiday, you’d half expected to be seated in some sort of private room --and are grateful when you aren’t. You enjoy the background hum of the other diners and the opportunity to people watch; it keeps the lulls in conversation from feeling too stifling.

Besides, it’s not like you needed a private dining experience to make the evening any more memorable. The view of the river is divine, ripples and currents glittering as the lights from the city refract off the water. And the dining room itself is heavenly, all white linens and tea light candles and soft, jazzy piano music being piped through seemingly invisible speakers.

You’re feeling more and more the part of the seduced, ho-hum citizen, almost dizzy from the heady thrill of it all. You can’t help but giggle when he pulls out your chair for you --and pushes it back in, ever the consummate gentleman--and peek at him coyly from beneath your lashes when he sits down across from you. “You’re going all out for tonight.”

He smiles back and takes one of your hands in his --careful to avoid the little tealight candle sitting at the center of the table, ever the consummate worry-wart. “You deserve to be spoiled. Today is good excuse.”

You arch an eyebrow at him, smirking playfully. “You need an excuse?”

He winks at you. “Only to get time off work.”

You open your mouth to say something else--

And then a perfectly coiffed blond man dressed in an chef’s uniform is walking up to your table with a smile. “Piotr. It’s good to see you.”

Piotr stands and shakes the man’s hand with a smile of his own. “Grant. It has been too long.”

“No kidding.” The man --Grant--glances at you with a smile. “Are you going to introduce me to your date?”

You can’t help but preen a little --again--when Piotr does, basking in the glow of his affection the way a cat basks in the glow of a sunbeam.

(They may as well be the same damn things, as far as you’re concerned.)

“Well, it’s lovely to meet you and even lovelier to see that Piotr can, in fact, do something other than pine in the presence of a pretty girl.”

You giggle when Piotr shoots Grant an indignant look. “I mean... how long were you calling me ‘myshka’ for before you told me it was a term of endearment used by couples? A year? A year and a half?”

Grant groans quietly as the tips of Piotr’s ears go red. “Dude. No.”

“I kissed him first, too, if that counts for anything.”

“I think everything ended up fine,” Piotr says emphatically, trying to end the conversation before it gets too out of hand.

“Says the glacier,” Grant teases before refocusing on you. “Piotr’s an old friend of mine; we studied at Xavier’s together, and he encouraged me to pursue my love of the culinary arts when I felt like I couldn’t keep up with the X-Men. Oh, he did the artwork for here, too.”

You twist in your seat to survey the dining room --and sure enough, you recognize Piotr’s style. You make an approving noise in the back of your throat as you smile at your boyfriend. “I’m surprised I didn’t recognize it earlier.”

“It’s not my best work.”

“Pete, if it wasn’t your best work, I wouldn’t have it hanging up. I know what I’m about.” Grant grins and clasps his hands together. “At any rate, when Piotr called me and asked me to help him, quote, ‘give the love of his life the most memorable Valentine’s Day she’s ever had,’ I couldn’t say no.”

You smile bashfully and duck your head, feeling ever drunker off the depths of Piotr’s love for you and the lengths he’ll go to show it.

“So, far be it from me to tell you what to order or how to order it, but I do hope you’ll let me pick your wine for the evening; a personal favorite of mine, pairs well with just about anything.”

It takes a moment to realize that Grant’s waiting for your approval, not Piotr’s --you’re the lady of the evening, and things’ll go however you want them to--and when you put it together you lift your head with a little giggle and nod. “That sounds great.”

The wine is excellent.

Not because it has undertones of oak or berries or whatever the fuck terms wine snobs use when describing wine. It’s just good. Rich.

It tastes like luxury without the ‘Buzzfeed Worth It’-toss-a-bunch-of-gold-leaf-and-fucking-truffles-on-top-to-sell-the-‘luxury’ ridiculousness to deal with.

The food is excellent. For the same reasons as the wine, but also because it’s delicious.

The inane, fantasy spinning part of your brain --which has been significantly boosted thanks to the wine, not that it needed much encouragement to begin with--is on some tangent about how this is the way to do proper seduction. No ridiculous, cheesy, trendy five star restaurant that puts truffle on everything so they can pump up the prices, or encrusts things in diamond because they could. No over the top shopping spree to start off the day or limo ride on the way over.

It’s about quality. About letting the activities serve as an accent, a backdrop, to the affection you feel for the recipient.

And, fuck, Piotr’s good at it. He’s always been good at getting things ‘just so,’ at finessing everything just right so that you feel like the center of the world without being overwhelmed by some sort of ostentatious display.

“Alright, I have to know,” you say as you take another bite of mashed potatoes that are so damn smooth they may as well be made of silk. “How long did you spend planning this?”

“Most of the year,” he admits. “To make sure I could get proper reservations. I did not want to get caught short.”

“Well, this has been completely and utterly spectacular,” you say.

“It’s not over yet,” he says with a glint in his eye that tells you he’s thinking about exactly the same thing as you.

You can’t help but squirm in your seat a little, excited and impatient. “No, it certainly isn’t.” You drink a little more wine --you’re almost done for the night, you’ve learned your limits by now--and smile at him. “You know, last year, when I told you that you could go all out, I almost expected... I don’t know. Everything big and flashy --rose petals on the bed, or something.”

He catches your meaning and arches a thick eyebrow at you. “Is that what you would have wanted?”

You shake your head immediately. “No. It would’ve been too much. But this... this is perfect.”

He smiles, cheeks pinking at your praises, and holds out one of his hands to you. “I like to think I know you well.”

“You were tempted to go that far though, even if just for a moment,” you press, amused and endeared because you know him too, as you place your hand on his. “Admit it.”

“I was,” he confesses without any trace of shame or embarrassment. “Because you are my world and I want to give you everything in it.”

You can feel tears threatening to well up and you bite the inside of your bottom lip to hold them back because you worked hard on your makeup, dammit. “Well, count me as curious, because I really want to know what stopped you.”

“You’re always curious.”

“And if you were actually complaining about that, you wouldn’t be here right now.”

He smiles. “I will never complain about your curiosity. It is one of the things I love most about you.”

“You keep talking like that and my heart’s gonna actually melt.”

“I know some good healers,” he says with a wink.

You can’t help but laugh, soft and drunk on love. “Okay, but how did you figure out this wouldn’t be too much for me?”

“You think I don’t know you?”

“No, I know you know me, I’m curious about the process. C’mon, babe, humor me a little. Show me how the fascinating mind of Mr. Piotr Rasputin works.”

He chuckles and rubs your knuckles with the pad of his thumb. “I know you can be... overwhelmed by affection at times. That gestures too grand make you anxious because you don’t know how to handle them. So I opted for... a quiet glamour, if you will.”

You honestly can’t think of a better way to describe the evening. “Well, you nailed it. I almost feel bad for not having anything for you.”

He shakes his head. “Don’t. I wanted opportunity to spoil you, and you let me have it.”

“That honestly sounds like a load of crap.”

“You do so much for me every day without realizing it.” His face goes unexpectedly serious, and you know it’s because he’s getting emotional. “As much as you think you offer nothing to me, you are wrong. I may not deal with struggles as severe as yours, but--” he pauses to swallow and find the words he wants “--there are many days where I feel lonely. I know that I come off as idealistic, naive, to others. A ‘glorified hall monitor.’ I know that people don’t always respect me.”

You squeeze his hand. “Babe--”

He shakes his head and smiles. “The people who I care about most respect me. I don’t care about others. Point of matter is, you make me feel loved and appreciated. The parts of myself that people make fun off, you make feel... good. Respected.” He looks up at you, and his eyes are shimmering with unshed tears. “You make me feel like I’m enough.”

Dammit, now you’re gonna cry. “You’re enough, Piotr. Just as you are. You’re so much more than enough.”

“Well, you make me feel like it.” He smiles politely when the server clears away your empty plates, nods when they ask if the two of you want dessert menus, then reaches into his pocket as they walk away. “Ah. Before I forget--”

“Babe --what?” Your heat hammers as he places a red velvet box on the table and scoots it towards you.

You know it’s not an engagement ring. You don’t have a diagnosis yet for your episodes, and the last conversation the two you had about marriage, you still wanted to wait for one and he was still fine with that. If that had changed, he would’ve talked to you about first.

That, and the box is a little too big for it to be a ring box --not to mention the fact that if Piotr was proposing, he’d already be down on one knee.

You open the box and gasp as a tasteful, elegant diamond necklace on a dainty silver chain glitters up at you. “Piotr...”

“Happy Valentine’s Day, moya lyubov’.”

You press your hand against your mouth, eyes watery, and smile. “It’s... it’s really fucking beautiful, Piotr. Will you help me put it on?”

“Konechno.”

He stands as you --carefully, you don’t want to break the chain--extract the necklace from the box, then takes it from your hands and moves behind you.

The combination of the cool metal against your skin and his fingers brushing against the nape of your neck makes you shiver.

And then he’s pressing his fingers against the underside of your chin and tilting your head up so he can press his lips against yours.

It takes all your willpower not to moan into the kiss; it’s closed-mouthed, it’s not like the two of you are Frenching each other in the restaurant, but you can still feel the passion and want behind it.

Your toes do curl in your shoes, though, and you do get a few chuckles out of some nearby patrons at the sigh you let out.

And then your sever’s back with the dessert menus, gushing about how cute the two of you are and complimenting Piotr on his taste in jewelry as he heads back to his seat.

Your hand flits to your neck, feeling the gems in their settings, and once you get your head back you ask “How did you even afford all this?”

He glances around the dining room --at his art on the walls--with an amused smirk before opening his dessert menu. “I know better than to work for free.”

You know you have to make the first move.

Now that lunch and the art museum and getting ready and the drive over and dinner and the necklace and dessert are all out of the way, you know that you’ve only got the drive back to the hotel to capitalize on the burning, throbbing sexual tension between the two of you and get your fun in.

Because as soon as the door to your hotel room closes, you know full well that Piotr Rasputin, the world’s most perfect boyfriend and gentleman extraordinare, is going to fuck your brains out.

You’ve seen the way he’s been looking at you all evening; you know damn well that it doesn’t matter that the dress you’re wearing isn’t a skin-hugger or a cleavage trap. To him, you’re still the most beautiful woman in the world, and his desire for you isn’t something that’s solely stoked by how much skin you’re showing at a given moment.

(Which isn’t to say that showing skin doesn’t rev his engine. You’ve spent enough mornings figuring out how to walk again after prancing around in your underwear while he got ready for teaching to know that it does.)

You’ve also spent enough time being horny for and with Piotr Rasputin to know that he’s his own damn textbook. If he’s hungry for you and can’t get a fix right away, he still can’t keep his hands off of you. He’ll play with your hair, rub his thumb against the nape of your neck, splay his hands against the curves of your waist--

--or, if the two of you are in a car, he likes to put his hand on your thigh.

And you know that if his hand hits your thigh before your hand hits his, it’ll all be over. You’ll be too flustered and wound up to do anything that might drive him out of his skull.

And you really want to. He’s spent the whole day lavishing affection and time and gifts on you, and now you want to repay the favor and drive him out of his mind. Just a little.

You wait until he reaches the part of the drive that isn’t too horribly twisty or bendy --making him less likely to outright reject what you’ve got planned--and go for it. You put your hand on his thigh --midway between his knee and his hip, nothing too conspicuous to start--and let your head rest against his shoulder with a happy sigh. “Tonight was... amazing, Piotr. I can’t believe you actually thought of all this.”

He chuckles. “Contrary to popular belief, I think on fairly regular basis.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” you say with a snort. “But no, really. I don’t think I’m ever gonna forget tonight.”

“That was the idea.”

“Stop brushing everything off and let me thank you, dammit.”

He laughs, full on. “You don’t have to thank me.”

“Well, I want to. Seriously, you made me feel like a princess today. Or, I dunno, some sort of waitress that’s being seduced by a Russian crime lord.”

And that’s definitely the wine talking, because you wouldn’t have told him that otherwise, and you have to take a minute to check to make sure you’re not hitting a nerve, with what his mom’s history is like.

He’s still smiling though, amused. “Oh, really?”

You bite your lower lip and slide your hand up his thigh, squeezing the thick muscle there. “Yeah. You’ve pretty well swept me off my feet, babe.”

He shifts a little in his seat, which is how you know that you’ve got his attention with the placement of your hand. “The night is still young, dorogoy.”

“Yeah.” You go in for the kill, sliding your hand up his thigh and over to his crotch. “It is.”

He inhales sharply as you start rubbing at his cock through the fabric of his slacks. “Myshka, what are you doing?”

“Making the most of the night.”

His hips flex a little and his teeth come together with an audible click. “Y/N--”

“Eyes on the road, Piotr. This is what you get for driving me nuts all night.” You rub your palm against his half-hard member --proof that his mind is right alongside yours in the gutter--then bring in your other hand into play to undo his belt buckle and start working at the button and zipper on his pants.

“What--”

“I’m gonna make you lose your damn mind, Piotr.” And, with that, you manage to free his cock from his pants and briefs and lean over to put your mouth around his tip.

You don’t take things slow. You know that roadhead is definitely one of those things that falls into the category of ‘dangerous, do not try’ for Piotr, and that if you want to have any sort of impact on him before he calls you off --because you won’t push it after he asks you to stop, you respect him too much for that--you need to move fast.

So you do just that. You work his cock over with your mouth, using one hand to hold him steady at the base while you lick, kiss, and suck him to full mast--

And he’s not stopping you.

Piotr.

Isn’t.

Stopping.

You.

He’s groaning, panting in his seat, gripping the wheel like he’s trying to strangle it, pressing his foot down harder against the gas pedal--

But he’s not asking you to stop.

Your thighs clench together and you moan around your mouthful of his dick when you realize just how fucked you’re gonna be when you get back to your hotel room.

He moans and reaches down with one hand to grasp at your hair --but he isn’t pulling you off. “Myshka--”

“Both hands on the wheel, Piotr.”

He obliges with a keening noise at the back of his throat.

Piotr Rasputin. The world’s most perfect boyfriend, gentleman extraordinare, and putty in your hands.

Mouth.

Whatever.

You keep going until his hand comes down on your shoulder and he’s saying something, voice so wrecked and accent so thick you can barely understand him--

“We’re almost at hotel.”

You release his cock, more than fully hard now, from your mouth with a pop and set about tucking him back in his briefs and pants and getting everything back in order. You don’t need any extra explanation to know that he doesn’t want to get caught doing this, and you’re happy to oblige him on that.

Give and take. The foundation of any good relationship.

Before you know it, you’re pulling into the parking garage connected to the hotel, and Piotr’s parking the car and turning the engine off--

--and then he’s kissing you, growling as his tongue swipes between your lips and into your mouth.

You moan and arch into the kiss, fingers digging into the edge of your seat. Your heart’s pounding in your chest in time with the desire throbbing between your legs, and you simper when one of his hands slides up your thigh, making the skirt of your dress ruck up around your hips.

Seduced and drunk on love, swept away in a torrent of passion. God, what a way to go.

“Maybe we should head up to our room,” you manage when he breaks the kiss. You shiver as his thumb rubs up and down the length of your neck and smile prettily at him. “As fun as this is, I don’t think I can squeeze into the front seat with you. You kinda take up a lot of space, big guy.”

He kisses you again, mouth hot and wet against yours. “As you wish, moya lyubov’.”

The two of you barely refrain from sprinting through the hotel lobby.

You do power walk, though, and between your excited smile and the fact that there’s no good way to hide the hard on Piotr’s sporting, you’re pretty sure the staff know full well what the two of you’ll be doing for the rest of the night.

The elevator the two of you get on is completely empty, and for a moment you wonder what’ll happen when the doors close--

--and then you don’t have to wonder anymore because the doors do close and Piotr practically yanks you against his chest and kisses you hard.

You cling to him, head spinning with delight. His sudden lack of control or care for keeping up appearances has you reeling the best ways possible.

(Part of you realizes that it’s because the two of you are alone, and there’s no chance of Wade or one of the students catching you, and God what is married life even going to be like if the two of you wind up getting a whole house to yourselves?)

And then your back’s pressed against one of the elevator walls and Piotr’s mouth is on your neck.

You arch into him, run your fingers through his hair as he runs his tongue over the length of your neck, gasp his name when his hands skim down your back to cup your ass--

And then the elevator stops and the door opens to let on a handful of other passengers.

You let out a little yelp and giggle out apologies as you get a mixture of eyerolls and faintly amused smiles and move your hands to Piotr’s chest.

Piotr, for his part, just kisses your hair and moves his hands to your arms. He doesn’t turn away from you or even acknowledge the other people in the elevator --probably to save himself from melting with embarrassment.

You let your head rest against his chest, thrill of the moment ebbing into mildly embarrassed contentment. You let your eyes close as he rubs gentle circles against your shoulder, lightly massaging the muscle there, and just bask in his love for you.

And then the doors open again on your floor, and it’s back on.

The two of you laugh as you dart down the hall to your room. You’re pressed between the door and him, mouthing at his neck as he fumbles with his wallet for the room key. He’s got one of his thighs between your legs, holding you up and pining you in place.

You’re like a couple of teenagers, borderline making out in the hallway because you want each other so bad you can’t wait to get to the bed.

Piotr manages to get the keycard into the slot on his second try, and he picks you up with one arm and carries you into the hotel room.

You giggle as the door schincks shut, grab onto the lapels of his jacket as he sets you down and kiss him as he walks you back towards the bed. You wobble on your heels, low as they are, and break away so you can kick them off properly. “Hang on. These aren’t helping anything.”

When you look back at him, Piotr’s gazing at you like a dying man seeing civilization for the first time in years. His eyes are impossibly soft as he studies your face, full of love and reverence.

You sigh, happy, when he cups the side of your face with one of his massive hands and lean into his touch.

“I love you, Y/N. More than anything.”

“I love you more than anything too, Piotr.”

He presses his lips against yours once more, tender and gentle. He keeps kissing you as he moves his hands to your back, starting just above your ass and sliding them up to the collar of your dress. His fingers fidget with the zipper for a moment before he whispers a husky “May I?” against your lips.

The answer’s yes. The answer’s always yes.

You shiver against him as he slowly unzips your dress, goosebumps spreading across your skin as the dress falls into a pool of fabric around your feet, leaving you in your tights and underwear. You slide his jacket off his shoulders --and occupy yourself with undoing his tie when Piotr takes over so he can lay the jacket out neatly on the desk. You toss it across the room with an impish giggle, then focus on unbuttoning his shirt when he sighs.

“What is it with you and making messes?” he murmurs as he trails kisses down your cheek.

“What is it with you and organizing everything?”

He toes his shoes off --chuckles when you finish unbuttoning his shirt and toss it as far as you can, too--and slowly presses you back against the bed. “I guess we balance each other.”

“I’d say so.”

And you don’t say anything intelligible after that, because Piotr starts kissing your breasts and all coherent thought goes out of your mind.

You let out a soft sigh and arch your back off the bed so he can unclip your bra --and you promptly chuck it across the room.

He laughs. “Stop doing that.”

“Distract me better, then.”

It’s a challenge you know he’s more than capable of rising to.

His hands and mouth go to work, caressing and groping and licking and sucking at your breasts until your hips are rocking against the bed.

You whine as he gently teases one of your nipples with his tongue while tweaking the other between his forefinger and thumb. You thread your fingers through his hair, wriggling lower as you do, and gasp when you grind against his crotch.

He’s hard and straining against his dress pants, and he groans as he rocks his hips back against yours. “Bozhe moi --lyublyu…”

You wrap your legs around his hips as he starts grinding against you in earnest, mouth sucking a scattering of hickeys across your breasts. You clutch at his back, dig your nails in when he rubs against you just right. “Fuck.”

Piotr moves his mouth to your neck, but his hands move downwards until his fingers reach the stretchy waistband of your tights. He hooks his fingers around the elastic material --and then he’s sitting back and rolling the tights down your legs.

You yank your legs out of the tights and wriggle out of your underwear as fast as you can. “Pants off. Underwear, too.”

He chuckles as he shifts off the bed and starts working at his belt. “Impatient.”

“So what?” You crawl towards him and tug at his pants as he slides the belt out of the last loop. “Hurry up.”

He laughs softly and widens his stance a little to keep you from yanking his pants off. “Wait --wait. We need--” he retrieves a condom from one of his pockets “--we’ll be needing this.”

“Don’t care.” You tug at his pants until they’re halfway down his thighs, then straighten up on your knees and start kissing a trail up his chest.

“Y/N--”

“Fucking whatever, Piotr, just get undressed already!” You bite down --not too hard, but enough to prove your point--on the muscle between his neck and shoulder.

He growls --actually growls--and then he’s pushing you back against the mattress, nude, muscular body pressing against yours. “Patience.”

You squirm against him, trying to get any sort of relief for the ache between your legs. “No.”

He nips at your ear as one hand skins down your torso, towards where you both want it most. “You can do it.”

“The fuck I won’t--”

And then he’s sliding two fingers inside you and any complaints you might’ve had evaporate.

You moan as he curls his fingers against your g-spot and rock your hips against his hand. “Piotr!”

He chuckles. “Not complaining now, I see.”

You open your mouth to retort --and whine when he presses the pad of his thumb against your clit. You pant as he rubs circles over your sensitive nub in time with the movements of his fingers against your walls. “Oh --fuck--baby, I’m gonna--”

He shushes you gently, kissing your hairline with a tenderness that belies the utter sinfulness of what his fingers are doing. “Just enjoy it.”

And enjoy it you do, right up until the point --and past the point, to be clear--when your toes curl and your eyes roll into the back of your head and you climax with a groan.

Piotr slows his movements, working you through the aftershocks as you pant and gasp, only sliding his fingers out when you push weakly at his arm.

You open your eyes just in time to see him sucking your juices off his fingers and moan. “Piotr --baby--just fuck me. Please.”

“What if I would rather make love to you?”

“I don’t care! Just get your dick in me ASAP!”

The two of you pause, and then you both start laughing.

You nuzzle your face against Piotr’s neck as he slumps on top of you, body shaking with laughter. “Did I really just say that?”

“Da.” He kisses your cheek. “You are… so ridiculous, myshka. I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Piotr.” You arch your back as he presses his lips against yours, relishing the way your chest goes flush against his. Your hands skim up the planes of back, holding him to you as he thoroughly plunders your mouth with his tongue.

God, you love this. You love the way he kisses you, the way his body presses against yours, the way--

“I should probably put this on,” he says with a laugh and a vague gesture with the condom as he breaks the kiss. “Before we get carried away.”

You laugh with him and sit up. “Yeah. Here --let me.” You rip the foil packet open, then pause to wrap your hand around the shaft of his cock.

He’s already completely hard, but going the extra mile never hurt anyone.

You give him a few pumps, relishing the way he groans and jerks into your hand, then push at his chest. “Roll over.” You straddle his thighs when he does and carefully roll the condom over his cock. When you look up halfway through and realize he’s watching you, desire burning in his eyes, you duck your head bashfully. “Like what you see?”

“Always.”

You take the hand he holds out to you once you’re done putting the condom on him and let him help you get positioned. You can feel the head of his cock brushing your folds, prodding at your entrance--

And then you’re sinking onto him, and he’s filling you up, and everything else in the world other than the two of you and what you’re doing right here, right now ceases to be of any importance.

You whimper at the feeling of him, the stretch, the exquisite fullness, and rock your hips against his. “Piotr--”

His hands come up to grasp your hips, holding you tight but not stopping you. “Slow. Go slow.”

“Yeah --sure,” you pant as you plant your hands against his chest and --slowly--start to ride him. You take your time --you’ve got nothing else you need to do, other than him--and savor every inch of him, every shift of your walls against his member, every gasp and groan that leaves his lips.

You’ve got all night, just for the two of you. No obligations, no distractions. Just this room, this bed, and whatever the fuck the two of you feel like doing.

He moans underneath you, hips rolling up to meet yours as you pace quickens ever so slightly, and slides his hands back to grope at your ass. “Khorosho?”

Good?

You can’t help but smile; he always has to make sure you’re alright, that you’re enjoying yourself. You nod. “Yeah. You good?”

By way of answer, he lifts one hand to the back of your head and pulls you down for a kiss.

It’s a little awkward, given your height differences; he slides halfway out of you in the process, and you can’t really get him all the way back in your current position. You giggle a little --because it’s ridiculous and kinda funny, really--and brace one hand against his chest so you can reposition yourself and keep moving, as it were--

Piotr’s hold on the back of your head tightens, his other hand slides to the small of your back, and his hips snap up against yours. Hard.

Oh.

The hand of yours that’s not on his chest grips the pillow next to his head when he does it again, and you moan when he does it a third time--

And then the bed starts shaking as he starts doing it in earnest, pumping in and out of you in deep, even, strokes.

Well, if that’s what he wants to do, you’re not gonna stop him.

You squeeze your eyes shut and rock your hips back against his thrusts as best you can. He’s skimming your g-spot with each movement of his cock inside you; not enough to fully turn on the pleasure, but plenty to wind up you up and drive you completely insane.

His mouth is hot against your jaw and neck, and he’s murmuring --and occasionally groaning--a nonstop string of Russian against your skin. “Ty takaya krasivaya ... kazhdyy raz, kogda ya smotryu na tebya, moye serdtse bolit…”

You grit your teeth together and whine as the shaft of his cock just barely rubs against your g-spot for the umpteenth time. “Piotr --baby, please--”

He lets you up when you push against his chest this time, eyes burning as he watches you, steadies you, helps you get repositioned.

You tip your head back and moan, a mixture of pleasure and relief at finally getting pressure and friction right where you want it, as you start bouncing up and down on his cock. You grab his hands when they grip your hips and relocate them to your chest.

He takes the none-too-subtle hint with zero complaining and starts groping at your breasts, caressing and squeezing them before focusing on your nipples.

You gasp as a soft thrum of pleasure courses through you and nearly fall --not that he’d let you, he’ll always catch you. You brace yourself against his chest even harder, arching against his hands while your hips keep working against his.

You can feel your orgasm starting to build in the slow tightening of your core, in the urgency that’s buzzing underneath the pleasure. You pant as you roll your hips harder, faster, feeling sweat drip down your back.

For all your working out, you don’t quite have your boyfriend’s stamina --at least, not when it comes to doing all the heavy moving.

You barely have to gasp out two words before he’s taking care of you, holding your hips to his as he rolls so that you’re on your back and he’s positioned above you. Before he can start moving though, you swing your legs up so your calves are braced against his shoulders.

You’re flexible enough. You can handle it.

He groans when you say as much, face flushed and expression utterly debauched, and he shifts the two of you down the bed before letting more of his weight bear down on you, pressing your knees against your chest and effectively pinning you against the bed. Then, he adjusts his hips and slides all the way in.

You groan and your eyes roll into the back of your head. You thought you were full before, but clearly you were wrong. You completely stuffed now, filled to the brim and whatever other euphemisms erotica writers use to convey being full past the point of reason and believability. You could float away of the sensation, the satisfaction alone, completely lost to the world save for the feeling of your boyfriend’s cock buried deep inside you--

And, without fail, Piotr brings you back down to earth.

A simple kiss to the forehead is all it takes, and you’re back in the hotel room, back with him, able to hear what he’s saying--

“Khorosho?”

Good?

God help you, you love this man so much.

You nod, still too out of breath to make forming words a feasible goal.

He smiles softly, kisses you gently on the bridge of your nose --and snaps his hips against yours with a lack of hesitation that can only be described as ruthless.

You moan loudly as he starts taking you in earnest, then whine when you realize you can’t arch your back or writhe against him in this position. You’re utterly pinned down, completely at his mercy as he pumps himself in and out of you; even with your hands free, there’s not much you can do or reach, definitely not enough to distract from the feeling of his cock driving in and out of you.

You’re here to do one thing and one thing only: take.

You’re moaning with each thrust now, gasping as he works you towards your climax without hesitation or doubt. All you have to focus on is the pleasure you’re feeling.

It’s completely overwhelming. Too much despite the fact that you haven’t actually come yet. You’re drowning in it, going insane from it, choking on it as you take your boyfriend’s cock over and over and over and over…

What a fucking way to go --pun intended.

You let out a high-pitched mewl as he speeds up. You can tell he’s close from the way he’s swearing in Russian and gripping your hips; he’s quite the picture of focus, actually, mouth open and lips pulled back over his teeth as he tries to reign himself in, tries to get you off first.

Ever the fucking gentleman --pun intended again.

And then one of his thumbs is rubbing against your clit, and it’s all over.

You scream his name as you climax --noise complaints be damned, you can’t be assed to give a shit right now--and clutch at the bedspread as hard as you can. Your orgasm sweeps through you in waves, cresting and ebbing again and again--

And then he’s coming too, albeit quieter than you did. He groans your name and presses his hips flush against yours, rocking against you as he rides out his own orgasm.

The room goes silent, save for the sound of your mutually labored breathing.

And then he’s sliding out of you and collapsing next to you on the bed, seemingly as fucked out as you are.

You stretch with a groan and take a few deep breaths as you come down from it all. Your cunt’s still twitching from your release, but you find it in yourself to push through the haze of the afterglow and roll over to face him.

He’s already reaching for you, arms curling around your body and pulling you in so he can shield you with his warmth and love. He kisses the top of your head and pushes the errant locks of hair away from your face, smoothing them as he goes.

You let out a shaky breath, then sling an arm around his neck and kiss his cheek. “I love you, sweetheart.”

“And I love you, dorogoy.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Pete.”

He huffs a gentle laugh. “It certainly is.”

#sass writes #piotr rasputin x reader #colossus x reader #piotr rasputin x reader smut #this is so fluffy your teeth are gonna rot and fall out #tw: alcohol mention #tw: moderately unsafe driving #piotr spoils you rotten #x men fanfiction #deadpool fanfiction

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shawtygonemad · 5 years ago

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My Dog Eared Hero: Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Nursing Fractures

Katara started to slowly come out of her sleep to the smell of something cooking. She scrunched up her face from both the fragrance in the room and her body being sore. Not sure if it was from the ground she was sleeping on or the injury on her back, but regardless she sat up and stretched.

“She’s finally awake!” a small voice said.

Katara opened her eyes to find the young fox demon, Shippo, sitting in front of her with the kitten Kirara.

“Sleeping until noon. Some things never change,” Kagome giggled as she turned the food roasting on the fire.

“It’s just a good sign that she’s healing well,” Sango smiled.

“That could be. However, this is how late she usually sleeps whenever she comes home to visit us,” Kagome teased.

“Hey, it’s that damn time change! My body clock gets all messed up from jet lag,” Katara pouted.

There was a break in their conversation after that. Katara noticed a few members of their group missing. She had officially met them all when her and InuYasha returned last night. Kagome was shocked to say the least when they both walked in together. She was properly introduced to Miroku, Shippo, Kirara, and the Priestess Kaede who’s hut we were currently residing in. They were all really kind to Katara even after the fiasco she put them through when she first arrived here.

“Where are the boys, and lady Kaede,” Katara asked.

“There were rumors that demons were nearing the village, so they went to check on things,” Sango explained.

Katara didn’t even flinch at the thought of demons this time. Normally she would be put into a panic attack at the very thought. She must be getting used to this place. Speaking of which…

“Kagome… Do you think I would be able to travel home?” She asked her cousin.

“You want to leave already,” Shippo whined.

“I just, I want your thoughts, Kagome.”

“I don’t see why you shouldn’t be able to since you managed to get here. However, you didn’t have any of the shikon jewel shards on you, so I’m not really sure how you managed to pass through,” Kagome wondered.

“Maybe there’s something here that you’re connected to,” Sango therorized.

“What could possibly be here that I’m connected to,” Katara questioned.

They were suddenly interrupted by InuYasha bursting through the door. He scrunched up his nose and smelt the air. He practically drooled.

“Something smells good. Is lunch almost ready yet, Kagome?”

“Just about!” Kagome said as she kept turning the food over the fire.

The demon suddenly plopped down and sat beside Katara. His arms were in his kimono. He didn’t look at her as he spoke.

“Figured you were dead when you didn’t wake up this morning,” he said blankly.

Katara just stared at him with a cold face. “Well thank you for caring about my well being,” she said sarcastically.

“Heh, why should I care about the life of a puny human,” he scoffed.

She just stared at him in amazement. “Because most of your friends here ARE humans, dumbass!”

“What did you call me,” he turned towards her and growled.

“Dumb.Ass. Is my Japanese not clear enough for you? Maybe I should explain it to you in English?” Katara suddenly switch to her native tongue. “You’re a dumbass!” She yelled in English.

“I have no idea what you just said, but it seems like you’re looking for a pounding,” InuYasha growled while holding his fist up as a warning.

“I am in need of a good pounding, but not from you, buddy,” Katara shouted back slyly.

Sango let out a small gasp and quickly covered Shippo’s young ears. InuYasha turned his beat red face away from her in embarrassment.

“Gah, you’re just like that perverted monk,” he stuttered out.

“What, getting embarrassed over talking about sex,” Katara teased him.

Before InuYasha could retort back Kagome butt in. “Alright, you two knock it off!”

“But (he) (she) started it,” the pair said together.

“Well I’m finishing it!” Kagome stated, before giving Katara a look. “Kat, this isn’t like America, or our own time for that matter. People around here are not used to talking publicly about… you know…”

“Yeah, yeah! Fine. I’ll keep my remarks to myself,” she finally stated.

They were all suddenly removed from their conversation when a loud child’s cry could be heard somewhere outside. It sounded like they were in pain. Katara’s nursing instincts kicked in and she sprung up to run out the door. She scanned the area for the crying child. Luckily she spotted a group of kids carrying a crying little boy back into the village. He looked to be around 10. Katara rushed over there so assess the situation.

“What happened,” she asked them calmly, taking control of the situation.

“He fell off the stone wall over by the river and hurt his foot,” one of the boys said quickly. They all looked freaked out.

“What’s wrong,” Kagome asked as she ran over with the others.

“He hurt his foot,” she told them before turning to address the kids. “Can you put him down gently so I can have a look?”

The kids placed their friend on the ground before stepping back to give Katara some room.

“What’s your name,” Katara asked the little boy.

“Sh- Shiori,” he stuttered in pain.

“Shiori, my name is Katara. I’m a nurse, so I’m going to have a look at your foot, okay?” She explained to him.

“P-please don’t hurt it more,” he cried.

“I’m going to be as gentle as possible.” She calmly explained before getting to work.

She softly lifted his ankle with a hand while the other was inspecting it. It was extremely swollen and already starting to blacken with bruising. It could be broken, but they couldn’t know for sure without medical technology.

“Can you move your toes?”

The boy cautiously wiggled all of his toes.

“That’s a good sign,” she smiled at him. “How about moving your foot?”

The boy quickly shook his head no.

“Okay. Well the good news is that I don’t think it’s broken since you can move your toes. The bad news is that this is a severe sprain. It’s going to hurt to walk on it for awhile, so what I need you to do is follow the R.I.C.E. steps.” Katara explained.

“Rice?” Miroku question.

“Rest, ice, compress, and elevate. Sango, can you go find some wrap so I can find him a make-shift brace?”

“Of course!” She replied before hurrying off.

“Kagome, you don’t happen to have any ibuprofen on you, do you?” Katara asked her cousin.

“No… but I do have some Tylenol!”

“Okay, that’ll help with his pain. We just need something that’ll help with the anti-inflammatory,” Katara sat and thought. “Is there any herbs that you know of around here that’ll help?”

Everyone was silent for a moment before InuYasha spoke up.

“What about Polygonum Cuspidatum,” InuYasha questioned. “My mother gave me some when I was younger. I had a tendency of getting hurt a lot.”

Katara gave him a soft smile. “Why am I not surprised?”

“I’ll go look for some,” he quickly said before disappearing with the others to retrieve their items.

While they were off, the little boy’s parents arrived and Katara explained everything to them. The others finally returned, so Katara got back to work. Kagome gave him some Tylenol while Katara tightly wrapped his foot and ankle into a temporary brace. InuYasha returned with the herb, and told the boy’s parents that the best way to take it is to mix it in with some tea.

“I would take that about twice a day,” Katara explained to the family.

“Thank you so much, for everything,” said the boy’s mother while her and her husband began to carry their son off home.

Katara got up from her crouched position on the ground and dusted her jeans off.

She turned and saw the group staring at her.

“What,” she questioned.

“That was amazing! You knew exactly what to do,” Sango praised.

“Well it is my job after all,” Katara chuckled.

“Wait, you finally got your certification,” Kagome asked excitedly.

“I did,” Katara responded proudly.

“That’s so great! Congratulations,” Kagome squeaked as she hugged her older cousin.

“Thank you.”

“With how much all of us get injured, we could really use someone like you around,” Miroku said.

“Yeah, Katara! You should stay with us!” Shippo exclaimed.

Kagome turned to Katara with an excited gasp. “I would love that!”

Katara didn’t respond right away. She glanced over at InuYasha expecting him to make some smart remark. He stayed silent, but she caught him studying her curiously. This made something in her chest tighten. She quickly looked away.

“I don’t know…” Katara started.

“C’mon Kat! Please,” Kagome begged.

“I guess I don’t really have anywhere else to go,” Katara said slowly. It never really hit her until now.

“Don’t you have-” Kagome began but was cut off by Katara.

“I sold everything when mom died. The house, the furniture, everything.” Katara started to get choked up, but forced the tears back down. “Without her, I don’t have a home anymore,” she whispered.

Kagome noticed her cousin was in distress and pulled her in for another hug. “You do now,” Kagome said quietly in her cousin’s ear. “With us.”

#inuyasha #inuyasha fanfiction #inuyasha fanfic #oc #inuyashaxoc #anime #romance #adventure #nurse

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my-one-love-is-music · 6 years ago

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Cuddles Are the Best Remedy for Nightmares

Summary: Tim was still plagued by nightmares months after he was rescued from his capture when everyone thought he was dead. The nightmares were making it impossible to sleep and Tim was running out of options if he didn't want to end up as a puddle on the sidewalk once his exhaustion caught up with him on patrol. But when he finds relief in the most unexpected of places, he finds himself re-evaluating exactly what Jason means to him.

A/N: This is really just a quick jaytim oneshot so I could have an excuse to write Tim with nightmares and then that sweet sweet jaytim bed sharing.

Also on AO3!

Darkness surrounded him, pushing in on all sides as it fought to swallow him whole. He was cold and tired. His uniform was torn and bloody, even though he’d long since stopped bleeding. Tim smacked his hand against the glass. The sound was weak, taking too much of his energy. Too much energy he didn’t have.

He tried to laugh, but the sound hardly escaped him as more than a wheeze. He slumped against the glass, tired. So tired of everything he’d been through. He wanted to rest. He wasn’t sure he could take it anymore.

He didn’t want to take it anymore. He wanted to give up and let himself rest. If there wasn’t any hope of getting pulled out of the hell he’d been dragged down into, there was no point in going on.

He was certain no one was coming for him. He couldn’t reach out to them and they probably didn’t care. The darkness said so. And Tim was quickly learning to trust the darkness around him. That was the only constant he could trust in.

If he just closed his eyes it would all be over. He just had to stop fighting and let it seep into his bones, stealing his last breath as claws squeezed his heart…

Tim jolted upright with a gasp. He blinked into the darkness, hands grasping at his chest to make sure the wounds battering his body really had healed.

His hands pulled at the damp shirt plastered against his overheated skin. He glanced at the clock, the green numbers eerie in the dark, but hopeful that he was free and wouldn’t be dragged back into the suffocating and drugging darkness from when he was captured.

Sleep hadn’t been great since he was rescued. And this time he’d barely been asleep an hour before the dreams plagued him again.

Tim shoved his blankets and sheets to the end of the bed and climbed out. He yanked his damp shirt over his head as he made his way to the bathroom, shivering as the cool air of his apartment seeped the heat from his skin. He shoved his shorts down around his ankles and kicked them to the side before tossing his shirt onto the small pile.

The only comfort was that the sun would be rising soon. But until that happened, he was going to force the nightmares of his time in captivity away under the cold spray of the shower.

Tim stifled a yawn as he stared into his second cup of coffee that morning. He knew he looked like shit. He knew the nearly endless days without sleep were catching up with him. He didn’t have much longer before he’d completely collapse from exhaustion. He could only hope that when that did happen, he’d be blessed with a dreamless sleep and could recover from the hellscape his life had become.

“You look like shit.”

Tim jumped, head snapping up to find Jason sitting in the chair across the table from him.

He gaped and looked past him towards the open window.

“Jay-what-how-how the hell did you get in? Never mind that, what are you doing here?”

Jason frowned. “You invited me over. We were going to go over the current case we’re working on. Are you okay? You don’t usually forget stuff like that.”

Tim blinked, trying to search his memory for any recollection of that conversation.

“I’m going to take the extended silence and the slightly panicked look in your eyes that you don’t remember,” Jason said.

Tim pursed his lips and nodded.

“You’re not so obsessed with this case that you’re losing sleep over it, are you?”

Tim shook his head. “It’s not the case. I-I’ve just been having trouble sleeping.”

“Have you tried taking meds? Meditation? A new mattress?”

Tim chuckled and braced his elbows on the table, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes until he saw spots. The fact Jason was concerned over his sleeping habits was comedic despite the truce they’d managed to settle into.

“I’ve tried meds, yoga, altering my sleep schedule, every mattress topper and pillow on the market and..” He sighed and shrugged. “Nothing’s changed.”

Jason searched his face. “Nightmares?” he murmured.

Tim hesitated before nodding.

“You feel like talking about it?”

Tim bit his lip. “I guess that’s one thing I haven’t tried.”

He sighed and moved to grab his coffee, but Jason snatched it from his reach. He settled back in his chair and took a long sip.

“You don’t have to talk to me,” Jason said between sips. “But you’re gonna end up as a puddle on the sidewalk if you keep forcing yourself to stay awake with unhealthy amounts of coffee.”

Tim stared at his hands. He sucked in a deep breath and closed his eyes.

“It’s…it’s from when I was captured and everyone thought I was dead. I keep thinking I’m back there, getting pulled under with no escape and my only future ends in death.”

The silence was deafening. Tim felt small and exposed and vulnerable. He wanted to run and hide away from all of it.

“I’m sorry,” Jason said. “I’m sure no one’s told you that yet.”

Tim bit his lip, the sadness and desperation and self-loathing and pity that accompanied the memories of his time in captivity forcing themselves to the surface. Not that they’d ever really gone away since he came back.

“You didn’t deserve to go through all that shit,” Jason continued. “I thought…well I always hoped that what happened to me would be the worst thing that could happen to this family, but it wasn’t, and every day is just further proof that worse and worse shit is out there than just getting beat nearly to death with a crowbar and blown up.”

“I’m sorry Jason,” Tim murmured.

“You don’t need to apologize to me,” Jason sighed. “I’ve come to terms with what I’ve been through. So, let me help you. You need sleep.”

Tim nodded. “Okay.”

“Good. Have a seat on the couch?”

Tim blinked his eyes open and stared at Jason who huffed and rolled his eyes.

“Just go sit on the couch.”

Tim pulled himself from his chair and shuffled around to the couch. He dropped down onto the cushion and waited. Jason shut the open window and pulled the curtains closed. He disappeared into Tim’s room and returned with a folded blanket.

He wrapped it around Tim’s shoulders and sat down next to him. He unlaced his boots and kicked them off, propping his feet up on the coffee table. He wrapped an arm around Tim’s shoulders and pulled him against his side.

Tim let out a long breath, his head coming to rest on Jason’s shoulder. The tension melted from his limbs, nearly making him dizzy now that he wasn’t trying to force himself to stay awake.

Unlike every other time Tim had tried to fall asleep since his return, his brain was quiet, anxieties abated as darkness, for the first time, wrapped him in warmth and gently rocked him down the river to sleep.

Tim sucked in a sharp breath as he slowly pulled himself from sleep. He blinked his eyes open, trying to focus on the glow emanating from the tv.

“Jason?” he asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“You get enough sleep?”

Tim nodded, his cheek rubbing against Jason’s shoulder. He took notice of Jason’s hand rubbing up and down his back, the movement soothing enough to nearly pull him back under.

He sat up and stretched his arms over his head, feeling his back pop in several places.

“You feeling better?” Jason asked.

“Yeah,” Tim sighed. “Thanks, I…” he trailed off, feeling his cheeks heat up. “Thanks for helping me.”

“You want to go over that case now? Because I kind of just ordered a pizza…” Jason said with a low chuckle.

Tim’s stomach growled. “I think that’s a great idea,” he said with a grin, jumping up from the couch to get his laptop.

Tim hung his wet towel in the bathroom. He ruffled his damp hair and shuffled into his bedroom, his muscles aching after an eventful night on patrol.

He’d been making progress on the case he was working with Jason and if they had a few more days as successful as that night, they’d have things wrapped up in no time and could congratulate themselves on a job well done.

He pulled his sheets back and slipped underneath them, curling up on his side with the blanket wrapped around him. His eyes slid shut and he let out a long breath, thinking he might finally be able to move past what happened to him thanks to Jason.

Tim jolted up in bed, gasping and grasping his damp shirt to try and force the weight from his chest and the cold skeletal fingers that had forced their way into his chest.

The last memories of suffocating darkness and bitter cold still tried to pull him back to freezing and isolated captivity.

Tim shivered as the sweat chilled his skin. He climbed out of bed and hurried to his bedroom doorway. He braced his hands against the frame, trying to figure out where he was going.

He needed to think. He needed to do something. Maybe he even needed something like a drink or coffee or even pills. He was starting to care less about what he used as long as he got a reprieve from the endless nightmares.

Tim sagged against the doorframe and slid to the floor. He buried his face in his knees, knowing he wouldn’t get to rest anytime soon.

Tim stifled a yawn, wrapping his fingers around the cup of coffee Jason passed to him as he sat down on the roof ledge beside him.

“You been sleeping okay?” Jason asked, voice soft with understanding.

Tim shrugged. “Not as good as I could,” he muttered.

Jason was silent a moment, holding his cup tightly between his hands.

“Look,” he sighed. “I don’t want to assume anything, but we’ve gotten some good work in tonight. I have…I have an apartment a couple blocks over. Why don’t’ we turn in. You can have a shower and maybe get some sleep. I know I don’t have much room to talk in how you cope with the nightmares, but maybe sleeping somewhere that’s not one of your safehouses or your apartment could keep them at bay.”

Tim’s hand froze, his cup halfway to his mouth. He thought over Jason’s statement and nodded.

Jason grinned and climbed to his feet. He shoved his helmet on his head and held out a hand. Tim let himself be pulled to his and gave Jason a brief smile.

They abandoned their cups of coffee on the roof and sprinted to the edge, jumping across the alley below.

Tim tugged at the hem of the shirt Jason let him borrow. He stared at Jason’s bed, wanting to climb into the inviting sheets, but afraid of what memories his brain would dredge up this time. He’d been confident when Jason suggested it, but he was still afraid he would be sucked back into the cold, dark cell.

Jason was in the living room. He’d insisted on taking the couch for the night and Tim might’ve almost preferred to be out there, but he’d seen the look Jason had given him when he opened his mouth to argue. Jason was probably prepared to strap him down if it meant he took the bed.

Tim sighed and crawled into bed. He wrapped the blankets around himself and buried his face in the pillow under his head. He closed his eyes, hoping he’d finally get a chance to rest after several days of nightmares.

Tim shifted, his breathing erratic as he tried to center himself. He could feel the trembling in his limbs even though he wasn’t trying to move, hoping by staying still the nightmares and dark thoughts would finally pass and leave him be.

Something slipped across his stomach and he jerked away from the touch, thinking the skeletal fingers had finally come back to press into his chest and rip his heart out.

“Relax, Tim. It’s me,” Jason said, voice rough above his head.

Everything seeped out of him. Jason’s voice was real. It meant safety. It meant he wasn’t going to be trapped and left for dead. If Jason was there, he wasn’t in the cell. Jason wouldn’t let him die. Not after everything they’ve been through in building up their current truce and subsequent friendship.

Jason’s arm tightened around him as he relaxed, pulling him back against his chest.

“Sleep,” he whispered into his ear.

Tim nodded, his eyes already sliding shut without prompting. He surrendered himself to Jason’s warmth, knowing he’d keep him safe and free from the darkness.

Tim blinked his eyes open and squinted at the sliver of sunlight poking through the curtains. He groaned and rolled over, burying his face in the chest behind him. He frowned, trying to remember why there was someone in his bed.

The night before he was out on patrol with Jason. They’d sat down to take a break and have a coffee when…

Tim’s thoughts screeched to a halt and he tilted his head back, finding Jason’s sleeping face buried in his pillow. Once again, Jason had helped push his nightmares away. He didn’t know why it was Jason who was helping him sleep through the night, but he was starting to realize finding the reason why it was happening was less important than enjoying the sleep he was getting.

Tim closed his eyes and settled back down into the mattress, snuggling further into Jason’s embrace as he ignored the morning outside.

The smell of coffee roused Tim from his sleep. He sat up, finding the duvet had been draped over him. He smiled and pushed it away, crawling out of bed to head to the kitchen.

Jason was behind the stove, cooking something in a pan. Tim spotted the full coffeepot and made a beeline for it, snatching one of the mugs from the counter.

“Pour me a cup while you’re at it?” Jason asked behind him.

Tim hummed and filled the second cup, spooning sugar into it. He slipped past Jason and grabbed the milk from the fridge, adding it to Jason’s cup before sliding it over to him.

Jason raised an eyebrow and wrapped his long fingers around the mug, flipping the sausages with one hand. He took a long sip, his eyes sliding shut as he hummed.

“Damn,” he muttered, setting it at his elbow. “How do you do that?”

Tim chuckled and leaned against the counter. “I may not know how to cook as well as you do, but one thing I do know is coffee.”

“Well I hope you’re hungry because I kind of went overboard. I’m not really used to cooking for more than one person,” he sighed, lifting the pan from the stove. He turned and added the sausages to the last remaining empty plate on the table. The others were filled with scrambled eggs, toast, and fruit. Tim spotted a butter dish and even a small pot of jelly for the toast.

“Looks delicious. And you’d be surprised how much I can pack away. Now is this all, or can I expect waffles, too?”

“Waffles are saved for the very special occasions,” Jason said with a smirk, lowering himself into the seat at one end of the table.

Tim scrambled into the seat across from him, setting his coffee next to his empty plate. “And what do I have to do to weasel waffles out of you?”

Jason raised an eyebrow and speared two sausages to dump on his plate. “I’m not sure if you’re ready to know that.”

Tim paused, his fingers wrapped around two slices of toast. He glanced up at Jason, but found him completely focused on his own breakfast, paying him no more mind.

The morning stretched on as Jason and Tim demolished most of the food that Jason cooked. Tim gathered the dishes into his arms and started washing them while Jason refilled their mugs with coffee.

Jason pushed open his living room windows, letting the fresh spring air in. Birds chirped outside, making the morning seem lighter than it had in a long while. It was unusual for Gotham to feel so calm, but maybe it was the start of a new era.

Tim put the last plate into the drainboard and unstopped the drain, letting the dishwater drain from the basin. He washed his hands and grabbed his mug of coffee, sitting down on the couch next to Jason.

They sat in silence, enjoying each other’s company and not willing to break the peace that had settled between them. The comfort from the morning to precious a thing to risk losing when so much of their lives was chaos, pain, and destruction.

Tim tossed the duffle bag Jason let him borrow onto the floor of his apartment as he shut his door behind him. He stretched his arms over his head, still feeling the last sensation of the wind against his face as he held Jason tightly from behind while they roared through Gotham’s streets on his bike.

He smiled, letting his arms fall back to his sides as he crossed his apartment to his couch. He grabbed his laptop and settled down against the armrest, stretching his legs out across the cushions.

He was surprisingly unbothered by the fact he was still wearing Jason’s clothes, about as unbothered as having woken up wrapped in Jason’s arms that morning and subsequently going back to sleep to get the most rest he’d had in he didn’t know how long.

Tim’s fingers froze on the keys of his computer when he realized that their whole morning had been domestic beyond belief. He hadn’t thought twice about doing the dishes after Jason cooked. And the fact Jason cooked for him at all was more than Tim would’ve thought possible.

They’d drank their coffee on Jason’s fucking couch, not even bothering to hold a conversation and just enjoy the morning in each other’s space. And Tim was more than certain Jason had made a sexual reference when they were talking about waffles.

And the idea of it all didn’t put him off. Not the domesticity, the post-breakfast clean-up, or the easy silence as the city woke up around them. Hell, Tim wouldn’t even mind waking up to Jason cooking waffles in the morning.

He blinked and sucked in a deep breath before ducking his head and getting to work. He’d push past it for now and if he decided to freak out about it, he could freak out later.

Tim stretched his arms over his head, yawning as several places in his back popped and smarted. He was sore and ready for bed. Patrol had been long and eventful now that he and Jason were one step closer to finishing their case, and he was about to collapse if he didn’t surrender to sleep soon.

He crawled into bed and tucked his blankets around him, sighing as the muscles in his body relaxed. His eyes slid shut and he evened out his breathing, waiting for sleep to claim him.

Tim frowned when several minutes passed and the sounds of the city drifted through the walls of his apartment clear as day, his senses becoming no less fuzzy because of his exhaustion.

He opened his eyes and stared into the darkness around him. He remembered the night before when Jason crawled in bed behind him and wrapped his arm around his stomach, pressing his back to his chest.

He rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling.

That’s where he wanted to be. He didn’t just want the sense of safety and calm Jason exuded that allowed him to sleep, he also wanted Jason in bed with him. He wanted their legs tangled together as they cuddled. He wanted stubbled kisses to his shoulder and cheek.

He wanted to wake up to Jason’s coffee and a huge breakfast they could indulge in before sitting around and enjoying being together. He even wanted anything the nights spent between them could bring. Whether that meant waffles in the morning or not.

He wanted Jason.

Tim shoved the blankets off himself and clambered back to his feet. He shoved his feet into his ratty converse and grabbed a pair of one-way tinted glasses to slide onto his nose. He snagged his grapple from his small arsenal in his closet and hurried to his living room windows.

He disabled his apartment security with a flick of his wrist and shoved the windows open. He crawled out, re-engaging his security systems before he jumped up to the next landing on the fire escape and vaulted over the edge onto the roof.

Tim didn’t hesitate, sprinting to the opposite edge of the roof. He jumped, enjoying a moment of freefall before he fired his grapple and the line pulled tight, allowing him to swing to the opposite row of buildings.

Tim dropped to a crouch on Jason’s fire escape, chest heaving from his frantic run across Gotham.

He got to work disabling Jason’s security and got through in seconds. He shoved the windows open and jumped inside.

Between one second and the next, Jason was standing at the edge of his living room, guns pointed between Tim’s eyes.

“Tim?” he asked, lowering the weapons as he frowned.

“Hey,” Tim said, breathless. He shut the windows behind him and re-enabled Jason’s security systems.

“What are you doing here? Is everything okay?”

Tim pulled the lenses from his face and ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah…I mean…no, it’s not.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I can’t sleep and I realized that I can’t sleep without you.”

Jason stared at him, shifting from foot to foot. He cleared his throat. “Take your shoes off and meet me in the bedroom.”

Tim nodded and kneeled, pulling the laces undone. He yanked his shoes off and left his glasses and grapple with them in a pile underneath the window sill.

He hurried to Jason’s room and found him standing awkwardly next to his bed.

Jason met his gaze and waved towards the bed. Tim nodded and crawled under the covers, curling onto his side as he waited.

The bed dipped behind him. A moment passed before it moved and shifted as Jason laid down and found a position he was comfortable with.

Before long, Jason pressed against his back and wrapped an arm around his waist, keeping him close.

They both exhaled, the tension and stress leaking from their forms. Tim sighed and snuggled back into Jason’s embrace, glad he’d finally realized where he needed to be.

Warm lips pressed a kiss to the back of his neck, stubble scratching the sensitive skin as they moved away.

Tim smiled, eyes sliding shut as he drifted off to sleep.

Tim yawned, stretching his arms over his head as he rolled onto his back in bed, arching his spine. He took a deep breath, smiling when he smelled coffee brewing after waking in Jason’s apartment for the second day in a row.

He swung his legs over the edge of the mattress and pushed himself to his feet.

He shuffled down the hall and spotted a bowl of batter at Jason’s elbow.

“Are you making pancakes?” he blurted, losing any opportunity to watch Jason in his element.

Jason chuckled and glanced over his shoulder, gaze warm as he took in Tim’s bedhead and sleep-rumpled clothes. “Waffles actually.”

Tim frowned. “I thought you only made waffles for people who…”

Jason grinned as Tim trailed off. He turned back to the counter and pulled the fresh waffle from the iron before he ladled another spoonful of batter into the waffle maker. It hissed and sizzled and Jason lowered the lid to let it cook and transform into fluffy deliciousness.

Jason left the waffled behind and walked over to Tim. He wrapped his arms around his waist, pulling him forward a step to press their chests together. He ducked his head and covered Tim’s lips with his own.

Tim froze, eyes wide as they tried to focus on Jason’s face when it was so close. His mind raced thinking at some point he and Jason would need to talk about what had changed between them and determine where they were in sync with each other and what they meant to each other.

But for now, he lost whatever battle he wasn’t even trying to fight and let it go. He sighed, wrapping his arms around Jason’s shoulders, letting his eyes slide shut.

They broke the kiss with a sigh when the waffle maker beeped.

“What can I do to have you make waffles for me every day?” Tim asked with a breathy laugh.

“I think I have a pretty good idea of how to make that happen,” Jason said with a sharp grin. He pulled Tim over to the kitchen table and sat him down in a chair that would soon belong to both of them once staying apart became too much unnecessary work. Jason gave him a plate stacked high with waffles and a cup of coffee, pressing a quick kiss to his temple before he got back to turning the rest of the batter into breakfast.

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#jaytim #molim writes #fic: cuddles are the best remedy #nightmares #hurt/comfort #relationship building

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