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funtimebunnyblog · 4 years ago

Note

Pillar men during their heat?

What will their s/o do?

Me: *opens my ask box and sees this*

My brain: *CARELESS WHISPER BLARES*

You got it Anon! 😘🥰😇 Big stronk Himbos feeling the big feelings coming right up!

Pillarmen (separate) in heat and their s/o's reaction...

(Under the cut for length!)

Kars:

• On the norm, Kars wasn't overly affectionate with you.

• Sure, he had his times; like when he would put an arm around you when sitting on the couch or when he held you in his lap on occasion while he worked.

• You'd also get rewarded with some sweet little kisses during your daily routines.

• But really, he wasn't really a clingy creature...

• Well... not until his heat strikes, that is.

• When undergoing heat, oh boy, this hulking Pillarman's cold and collected demeanor practically melts away to reveal a cuddly, purring kitten.

• The first time he underwent his heat cycle around you, you knew something was definitely different... yet you couldn't place what.

• "Kars, I have to get ready for wooork..." you whined softly, squirming in his hold under the covers.

• Normally, when you woke up he would already have left to do some work of his own or you two would exchange some loving words and kisses for a brief moment before getting up to start the day.

• But this morning you were pleasantly surprised to wake up to him clinging to you, humming and peppering your face and shoulders with soft kisses.

• You honestly didn't want to ruin such a moment, most especially when it was such a sweet cuddly moment with Kars, but you had been laying here with him for over an hour and you really had to go or else you'd be late!

• The Pillarman only held you tighter in his arms, curling around you almost protectively and nuzzling into your neck; your protests and pushing were helpless against him.

• "Hmmm, no need." He hummed, a tendril of curly violet hair tickled your nose as he snuggled you in his vice-like embrace. "I already called in for you, dear one."

• Needless to say, he wasn't letting you go anywhere anytime soon.

• Another thing; Kars wasn't a man to beg (for anything at all really) most especially attention.

• From ANYONE.

• Usually, he was the one laying back with a smirk; lavishing in any and all of your pleas to have him hold YOU and him give YOU attention.

• He just found it absolutely delicious when someone became needy over him; being not only a gorgeous man but a ruler and Ultimate lifeform as well; your pleas for his touch only fed his ego.

• However, when Kars was in heat, he almost became a completely different person.

• "Kars, please, I just need to get these dishes done first..." you sighed, trying to focus as you were elbow deep in dishware and suds.

• The gargantuan Pillarman clinging to your back and nuzzling you did nothing to help as you tried to complete the task.

• "Oh come now, please? Please, can we snuggle on the couch? I'll put on your favourite show~" he whined, the vibrations of his chest sent trembles down your spine as he begged.

• "After dishes," You told him, trying to be firm but crumbling. "Pleeeeease, beloved one? I haven't seen you all day, my sunshine, and I've missed you so~ We can finish them later, together~" Kars hummed, digging his nose deeper into your neck.

• You were honesty starting to fear he had been replaced with an imposter of some kind.

• KARS SUS

• It becomes obvious to him that you're not understanding what'sgoing on and it's not long after when Kars follows his natural urges and gets to building a suitable nest.

• If you didn't understand his madness before, he fully intended to make you with this.

• You come Home from work one afternoon to find the Livingroom essentially turned into one giant blanket fort; pillows laid strewn about across the cushioned floor.

• The most notable thing about it all was the Pillarmen laying in the midst of all of it... in all his glory.

• "Come and join me, dearest~" he purred, gazing at you through hungry crimson eyes as you stood there gawking in the doorway. "I've been waiting~"

• Even though you still don't understand, this time you find you can't refuse him. Definitely not while he's licking his lips like that...

• You'll have to call in to work again tomorrow ;)

Esidisi:

• When Esidisi undergoes one of his heat cycles, it's best described that he becomes a hot mess.

• Even more of a hot mess than usual that is...

• The man was already a very emotional person but somehow, he became even more emotional when in heat.

• You started to suspect something was wrong with him when you came downstairs one morning only to be immediately met with a spine cracking embrace and a flood of tears.

• He was going on a sobbing rant about how he was so happy to spend his mornings with you, his Mate, and that you were wonderful in every way and the very light of his life.

• Normally, he only got this emotional when watching Cat videos.

• You also couldn't help but notice that he's burning even hotter than his usual warmth.

• Normally, he just felt like one big muscular electric blanket; radiating a comfortable warmth. But now he felt something akin to the scalding blast of heat that hits you in the face when opening the door to an oven.

• You practically had to wear oven mitts to lay hands on him now.

• You couldn't shake the feeling something was definitely off about him when he started leaving you little gifts lying around.

• The things he left ranged from clothing to food to trinkets and just general things you liked; all for you!

• Not to mention the fact he was being extra sweet, going out of his way to give you lots of kisses and loving, and even cooking you more meals and doing all of the chores.

• You appreciated the sentiment of it all but really, you were quite puzzled as to why he was putting so much investment in you. It wasn't a Holiday or your Birthday or anything...

• Little did you know you were also puzzling him.

• You were supposed to be taking interest in him!

• In his eyes, he was dropping obvious hints to his cycle; he took your confusion and lack of response to all of his offerings as somewhat of a rejectment and that actually hurt him enough to make him cry a little...

• He decides then that there's only one more thing he can do... he'll put together a most excellent nest for you! The best nest you'd ever seen!

• "Esidisi?" "Hmm?" He turned to look at you, doe-eyed, arms suspended in the air as he laid out another blanket on top of the growing pile.

• You were Home from work early and he still had much work to do yet!

• "What are you doing?" You questioned with a raised eyebrow. Not only was he rearranging your whole room, he had covered the entire space with blankets and pillows.

• He had even gone so far as to thoroughly douse the area in the perfume/cologne you always wore.

• "I'm making us a nest." He says, almost matter of factly. When you ask him why he's doing that, it floors him.

• Did you seriously not understand?! This entire time?!

• After he sits you down and explains himself, everything clicks with you and you actually feel terrible for not understanding sooner.

• You didn't realize his kind underwent natural cycles like this...

• You ask him if you can finish building the nest together, if this had to be done you wanted to help and have it be done right.

• His heart absolutely soars at your offer, making him teary eyed as he nods eagerly.

• However, you barely get the chance to finish it before you're both putting it to good use ;)

Wamuu:

• Throughout his many years living, Wamuu had always viewed his heat cycle as more of a distraction than anything; even though it was a completely natural phenomenon for the Pillarmen race.

• He had much difficulty focusing on training or fighting at all when it happened, making him feel quite useless.

• He always felt too mushy and needy during this time; things he viewed as shameful to see in him when he was supposed to be presenting himself to peers and enemies as a powerful foe.

• When heat struck, the Pillarman would simply hole himself up in his chamber, enduring the entirety of the cycle alone until it was over and done with.

• Eventually, when it passed and he was feeling his normal self he could go out again.

• However... things had changed now that you, his Mate, were thrown into the equation.

• You definitely knew something was different about him when it all started.

• On the norm, Wamuu was strong and he was a man to stand his ground as any proud, battle-hardened Warrior should.

• But when his heat struck... Wamuu became quite flighty.

• It seemed like the littlest of things would have him fleeing from the room; often in a blushing mess.

• He couldn't even sit through a simple kissing scene in a movie you two had been watching the other night.

• "Wamuu, what--" You blinked owlishly as a HUGE bouquet of red roses was pushed into your arms suddenly. It was as if he had picked you an entire field of them!

• "Flowers for you!" He said quickly, practically yelling, before taking off; out of the room and up the stairs. You couldn't see the flaming red in his face from over the massive bundle of flowers he had dumped on you.

• You couldn't help but realize he had a hard time to look you in the eye anymore. In fact, he seemed to break into a sweat if you even did something as little as touch him.

• You were seriously starting to worry that something was wrong with him.

• He on the other hand wasn't sure whether you wanted him or not during his heat and he was scared to act on his primal impulses.

• Usually, he liked to spend his free time with you watching TV or helping you around the household but he was spending more time upstairs, away from you; specifically in the spare room.

• You also took notice that there were a lot of blankets and pillows around the house missing but you didn't really focus on that as you were more worried about Wamuu and his strange behavior.

• After a few days of this, you decided to confront him.

• However, he got to you first; coming downstairs and sheepishly taking your hand, asking you to follow him.

• Wamuu had given into his primal instincts and had spent the last few days perfecting a nest for you both up in the spare room.

• You thought it was an impressive feat; he had turned the entire room into one big cushy and comfy heaven... but you didn't really understand why he had done this.

• Wamuu's eyes go huge when you ask him why. Did... Did Humans do such things for their Mates?

• HAD HE BEEN GOING ABOUT THIS ALL WRONG?!

• Poor Wamuu has to sit down and explain it all to you; his off behavior, most importantly the matter of you, the meaning of creating a nest and the cyles of his race behind it all...

• To his relief; you're very understanding and, even more to his relief, intrigued.

• Needless to say however, you and Wamuu don't leave the nest for a good little while afterward ;)

Santana:

• Much like Wamuu, Santana had often spent his years enduring his heat cycles in isolation.

• Nobody would see hide or hair of Santana from before it happened until the very end.

• The day before it struck he would simply pack up and leave to God-knows-where and stay there; sometimes he wouldn't even tell the others he was leaving.

• That being said; nobody (not even the other Pillarmen) knew what exactly Santana was like during the time of his heat cycle.

• Until you came along that was.

• You were Santana's Mate; the only proper reason for him to stay put when undergoing his heat.

• You'll begin to notice subtle changes, like the fact that Santana seems just a little more alert; attentive even.

• He brings you things before you even know that you want them; like snacks when you're starting to feel hungry or the cup of coffee you enjoy at noon.

• Somehow, he just seems to know.

• You'll also notice his fascination with your clothes or specifically the scent you leave on them.

• "Are you cold, Santana?" You question with a frown. Not only was he wearing your favorite hoodie, he was also wearing the baggy old T-Shirt you wore yesterday.

• Which was strange, as you knew Santana didn't really like clothing aside from the loincloth he wore.

• They were almost comically small on him, despite them being big clothes for you.

• He hummed, burying his face in the baggy neck of the hoodie; he felt as if he was surrounded by a Heavanly warm cloud of just you. "Hmmm, no."

• Surprisngly, it doesn't take long into the cycle for him to start constructing a nest.

• He takes things from all over the house; blankets, pillows, cushions, any stuffed animals or huggable plushies you have lying about, etc.

• Even if you happen to be sitting on them the moment he wants to add them to the growing pile upstairs, he just walks up and wordlessly takes them and then squirrels them away.

• If you happen to confront him on it, don't expect him to give you a detailed answer.

• "Santana, why are you taking the couch cushions?" "Because." "Because why?" "Because I have need of them." "Ok. Why do you need them?" "Because." "Because...?" "Just because." "Just because?" "Yes."

• Once his nest is all made up and deemed fit for you he goes looking for you.

• If you happen to be busy doing anything in the moment where he finds you, too bad.

• He just simply walks up and picks you up, squirreling you away to the nest like everything else as you were the most important thing to go in it.

• The explanation of everything can come later, much MUCH later; now was the time for action ;)

#funnybunny #pillarmen #kars #esidisi #wamuu #santana #pillarmen headcanons #kars x reader #esidisi x reader #wamuu x reader #santana x reader #my writing #anon ask

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neverlandsky · 4 years ago

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Kaz Brekker × Inej Ghafa

Undercover Ballroom AU

843 words || Warning: None

Set after Crooked Kingdom but AU where everyone is alive and happy. (because thats how its supposed to be coz no mourners, no funerals)

Plot: The main six are on a heist to steal a painting from a museum where a ball is held and they have to go undercover. (lies- the main plot is kanej content because i'm trash for them so its not really about the heist-)

All characters are from the Six of Crows duology. References to both the books and the show.

p.s. follow @mvrsecode on instagram <3

Kaz rested his hand on his cane and leaned on one of the pillars. His other hand beckoned Wylan to give him the bag the red-head was carrying.

"Alright here's Plan A. Wylan and Jes will be on-" Kaz started.

"Hey! You finally accepted my nickname," Jesper interrupted, giving a half-smile and fidgeting with his rings.

"Wylan and Jesper will be on the lookout from this roof and they will give us light signals by flickering a device Wylan made. Keep your eyes on the quarter point clockwise on the dome. You will be able to spot the blue light," he explained.

"However, also remember to always focus on your surroundings. The signal they'll give is important but do not act suspicious by constantly looking up. Someone else might spot it," Inej has become quite good at joining Kaz in his plan speeches. She was mostly there to remind the others to take care of themselves, something Kaz always forgot.

"Helvar will enter through the back door and clear our escape route. Make sure no one sees you, take a guard's uniform if you will. Nina will tag along the Ravka guests and into the ballroom. Let's hope the security system isn't counting faces. We need a heartrender inside for emergencies," Kaz wasn't always thorough with his explanation but this time he wouldn't risk it.

"Lastly, Inej and I will pose as the guests Nina put to sleep. When everyone else gets distracted on the main attraction, we will slip out through the open corridor right there and into the rest of the building. I'm sure they wouldn't think to look twice at a couple of kids messing around," Kaz finished and looked at each of them directly in the eye, as if asking if they understood.

Nina, however, knew it was just a display of intimidation. Kaz's heart was beating quickly, possibly because he has to dance with Inej but Nina smiled to herself. After all, Inej's heart was matching his. She smiled to herself, wondering when they would finally admit it, but again maybe she was just a romantic.

"No mourners," Jesper said.

"No funerals." Good luck would've been too much, they do not expect good luck. The least they could hope for is getting out of here alive.

Kaz handed Inej her dress. It would've been hard for her to scale walls if she was in a ball-gown, not that she couldn't do it. It was just impractical. The gown itself was ash blue in color. Kaz didn't know why he thought Inej would've liked it but the small smile on her face confirmed he was right.

Inej layered the dress on top of her black unitard and bulletproof fabric. It would've looked ridiculous if Kaz hadn't gotten the perfect gown. She strapped a dagger around her calf, under her dress. For emergencies, for Plan B and E.

"Good to know you still remember my size," Inej thanked him.

The plan was in motion now. Nina got in quite easily, she looked the part. She was beautiful and obviously charming. She could charm her way through anything. Inej and Kaz, however, was to play a harder role. Two criminals who lived in the streets of Ketterdam to play a rich, privileged couple. Eventually, the guards let them in, with the papers Jesper had gotten forged for them.

Everyone else was dancing. Even Nina had gotten herself a dance partner, a real person, not waffles. Matthias would've had to be restrained if he saw how this man was looking at his girl.

Inej took a deep breath and looked at Kaz, "We should probably-"

"Of course," he knew what she was going to say. They needed to fit in and so they did. Dancing wasn't really Kaz's forte but it was hers.

He offered his gloved hand and he wished he could hold her soft hands again but he couldn't risk fainting in the middle of a heist and compromising it. He could try holding her hands again another time.

Kaz's other arm was loosely wrapped around her waist. Their faces a bit too close. Nina could've heard their heartbeats from a mile away. Even Inej wouldve heard Kaz's heart if she wasn't too focused on her own.

"Are you alright?" Inej whispered. She didn't want to make him uncomfortable.

"I'll be alright. It's you. I'm alright because its you," Kaz was being honest. If it was anyone else, he wouldn't have been alright but it was Inej. He'll be alright. He was still wearing gloves anyways, there wasn't any skin-to-skin contact.

Maybe in another life, in another universe, they could've been in a ballroom as guests, dancing fully comfortable. Not on some heist trying to steal a one-of-a-kind painting worth millions of kruge. He could've held her hand and he would smile without a care. She wouldn't have to be cautious where her hand dropped and she could've rested her head on his shoulders. In another life but not this one. They were just thieves from Ketterdam trying to live better lives.

plus a random pic of them coz theyre so adorable-

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boredoverlord · 4 years ago

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Bucky X Reader - Hold the Line

I came in here to show you a good time, so here's my personal work and my very first fanfiction of all time. And because I'm a thirsty bitch, of course it's smut.

Summary : As a young and talented psychologist specializing in difficult people in prison, you believed in a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to work with the SHIELD. Turned out you were tricked to work for HYDRA.

For three years they made you do horrors in the name of an ideology you despised, but you may have found the occasion to finally make a change for the good, when they introduced you to your new patient.

The Winter Soldier.

Rating : Explicit, please kids, look away ( of course you won't because you're cute little rebels, but please do it)

Word count : 6.4k (chapter 1)

TW: Light BDSM (for now) Because Bucky is a massive Sub and it seems nobody agrees with me, so I have to do the lord's work here.

Foul language, mention of violence and murder, Masturbation, male orgasm and a tiiiny bit of choking. I started lightly

Please consider reading this on Archive of our own or read it below the cut. Lemme know what you think !

Chapter 1: A Story of Almost Everything

You never were the type to brag. But one thing you know is : you’re damn good at your job. Years and years of psychology studies, you barely got to parties, you hardly made any friends, and your sleeping schedule is still a nightmare. Those were sacrifices you did for one sole purpose : helping others. To be the last resort for people who have lost everything. You always firmly believed that you could make a change in the world, even the slightest, even for just one person. That would have been enough to make your lifetime worthy. What's more noble than just a genuine try to make it better, after all ? So you wasted your youth on studies, without a damn blink. And never one ounce of regret. You did it because it felt right. You’re not very brave, but you decided to face your fear a couple of times. You even were an intern in a high security prison, talking to broken men and women who hated your guts. Trying to lead them to another path of life. You heard stories that could break any mind. Only time could tell if you actually helped them. But that’s part of the job. Hope. And hard work.

That’s why when you started to have a growing reputation, at 26 after five years of studies and several years working in prison and rehabilitation, you were ecstatic when S.H.I.E.L.D contacted you. You quit everything, starting with your homeland in Europe, to fly to Washington DC, to visit the headquarters. The new building, the thrill of novelty, the clean rooms, the medical wing, and Alexander Pierce himself coming to shake your hand and telling you personally the wonders they have in mind for the psychology field. You could prepare people to save the world, you could have all the resources to make research, and fix minds that were supposed to be beyond repair. It was supposed to be just a quick trip, but the visit wasn’t even done when you looked at your guide with enthusiasm : you weren’t going home. Just cancel the fly. You’re taking the job immediately. It was three years ago.

Enough to understand how fucked you are.

You didn’t save anyone, you didn’t even work to make the world a better place. Oh but you did work to make a change. A change for HYDRA. They tortured you to make you swallow their ideology, but even if your body surrendered, your mind didn’t, even if it was still a perpetual work on yourself. You never believed in this masquerade, but you know it doesn’t matter. Because HYDRA knows how good you are at your job, and you’re a precious asset. So precious that they pushed all your buttons to make you obey. You tried to act and escape. Their last resort is the Damocles sword they put over your family’s head. Next act of rebellion, heads will roll. And it won’t be yours : no, no. HYDRA won’t give you this relief. It will be your loved ones. So you’re doing what you have to do. It’s the most cowardly choice, you know it. And you’re ashamed. But you’re too terrorised to make it otherwise. So you’re here to twist people's minds to swallow whatever Hydra wants. You make them understand the importance of the organization, when they can’t take it anymore, you make them understand that not only they can, but they must . You saw vulnerable people giving their life to this awful cause, and you are the person to make them understand it was the right thing to do. They gave you kind people with dreams, morals and passion, and you turn this into anger, hate and war, worshipping a crazy doctrine that spoils everything you believed and fought for. You have blood on your hands. You’re THAT good at your job.

So when they called you for a highly secret mission, you weren’t exactly surprised. Just disgusted by them, and mostly yourself. In the guts of what was called the Ideal Federal Saving Bank, you’re obediently following the chef himself : Alexander Pierce, to your next place of action. “I believe you have read your mission’s order, Y/N ?” “Yes Sir.” You said. “It did mention I will have the whole file today, though. I need to take a look at my patient so I can work in proper condition.” “Whatever you call it.” He said, opening the door of the clandestine laboratory in the now abandoned bank. If not for the machinery, we could still believe that those art deco walls filled with safes would still contain treasures of a lifetime for some people. Now there is nothing of value in here, not even the very skin of every PoS present. And you were including yourself. Making your way in the middle of the heavy set up, you slowly reach the pod in the middle, chewing secretly the interior of your cheeks. You know what’s inside, and it makes you want to puke. Mr Pierce continued “Doctor, as your mission was presented to you, your one on only assignment will be the physical and mostly the psychological perfect condition of the Winter Soldier, for the entire length of this mission on american soil.” Basically, be sure his brain is a fucking slushy. You reluctantly nodded and drew closer. “What’s his condition ?” At the top of your height, barely 5’3, you tiptoed to actually look at him by the window of the cryostasis chamber, since you never got this close of a look, not without the file and basically crumbs of info that were thrown at your face. They expected you to keep a dog on a leash, not making actual work on him, and it shows. White man, late 20s to early 30s, approx 5”7, long dark messy hair, not shaved, geez, it seemed like the poor guy was barely cleaned up before being pushed here. Good physical condition, breathing was steady. You could see the steam of his breath on the glass. He may be clinically asleep, but she highly doubted he would be in his best shape. He looked uncomfortable, and tired. It wasn’t a restorative sleep. It was a prison. You couldn’t help but notice his prosthetic arm, even if that was the only thing you knew about him. It’s a fascinating work of science, that’s for sure. And even if transhumanism and biomechanical wasn’t your forte, you wanted to have a closer look, to satisfy your curiosity. One of the scientists watching his screen responded : “He’s gently defrozing, should be half conscious in 5 minutes. You may want to take a step down.” You ignore that, and lean your hand to your superior. “May I finally have what I have been asking for ?” With the most irritating smile, he gave you the Winter Soldier’s File and you quickly opened it to have a first look at all the fuss. Basic physical information, previous missions report, date of entering and ending of cryostasis, bare minimal medical record, notes by her predecessor, fucking trigger words to make him kneel like a 12 years old in front of any boysband... nothing about his previous life, his antics, his name, actual disorders, no name, nor adresses… You glaced a bit at Pierce and threw a polite smile. He knows what he’s doing, and he knows you know. You’re extremely good with very violent patients. You have endured rapists and murderers spiting in your face and swearing to bite your head off and fucking your skull. You were traumatized and you cried yourself to sleep, but the following day you did your job again. You’re just here to handle the worst of the worst. And you’re going to do it.

Or he’s going to break your neck and fuck your skull. You’re fine with that.

“Thank you it’s going to be very helpful.” As helpful as a band-aid on a wooden leg. “What’s this device ?” You point your chin to another machine not far away from it. One of the two men finishing installing it, raised his head to look at you. “A memory suppressing machine. Usually he doesn’t need it as much as he used to, but it’s mainly for safety. He must be prepared.” “He’s in a state where he willingly takes it. So don’t hesitate if he’s starting to be annoying, or excited. That can happen. But that mean you would probably have to work more with him to make him fully ready for his mission,” “Understood, thank you for clarification gentlemen.” You smiled and they smiled back. You’re a woman, so you’re used to it. Basically this shit was supposed to hack his brain, and it must be painful. “I would strongly recommend not using it at such a time. From what I quickly read he needs stability and time. Wiping everything out will more likely create more confusion.” You took a look at the file again and took it upon yourself to not have your eyes double in size and screaming at this bunch of idiots. “... and it does seem he’s using it a lot.”

“We want the asset to be as focused as possible.”

“I understand that, but that's a temporary solution at best. He’s got a brain, not a harddrive. We still don’t know how it can store information, and if it can…” “The last time we used him was five years ago…” Started Pierce, with diplomaty, but also with a tone that wasn’t allowing any more debate on the matter. “And this mission is an absolute priority. The asset is strictly under cryostasis procedure as soon as he’s not needed anymore. The machine will be used if needed.” “I understand your point.” You absolute psychopath. “Then my request is simply to be here if it happens, and to be able to control the shocks. Also, I insist that he must be in perfect condition when you launch the procedure, I’ll personally make it happen and give you a green light.” “Thank you for your hard work.” He said, raising his hand, that you promptly and politely shook. You could feel the angry grasp. “I know you’re the perfect woman for this hard job. Your work is an inspiration for us all.” You wish you could end your life right here right now, instead of being told such atrocities. But you think about your mom and dad. At this time of year they start to prepare the pool for the summer, for the future neighborhood barbecues where they will brag to everyone about their incredible psychiatrist daughter who is doing secret stuff over sea to help save the world. You have to be strong. At least for them. At least for now.

“Hail Hydra.”

“Hail Hydra.” You responded, while your tongue feels like sandpaper.

“Ok he’s starting to wake up…” Someone warns, as Pierce leaves the room, unbothered. The pod opens before your eyes, as the asset -you hate this term- is being roughly handled and carried away by two dudes to his seat. The one dangerously close to the memory suppressing machine. You squatted in front of him, the time for him to blink several times and look around him. Confused, but it’s not exactly his first rodeo either. His eyes are quickly focused on the first thing in front of him : you. He looked like he was trying to remember who you are, but quickly realized he didn’t know you. Two blue spears digging right into your soul. That’s making you a bit uncomfortable. The same weird feeling of unease you have when a cat is watching you taking a shower. “Hi.” You started, in english, even if he could be from italy you had no freaking clue. You guessed that he was probably slavic. But the file says he’s speaking more than ten languages. And it wasn’t specified when and how the hell did he learn that. “Can you hear me?” He took a few more seconds to look at you, probably the time to finish reading every embarrassing moment of your life, right into your eyes, like your drunk 18th birthday when you finished in your panties swimming in a city fountain, but he nodded eventually. You actually know this look. But it’s the first time you have a super soldier in front of you so it’s of a rare intensity. He’s dissecting you. Gathering information. His eyes moved slightly down : a recent scar on your neck. Right : an ex piercing on the top of your ear, now unusable. Down left : he just realized you’re slightly unbalanced so he knows you have a hip issue. And down right : he’s looking at your hand, you don’t really know what he saw here, maybe calculating how to break them ? You were literally a foot in a viper’s nest. Were you terrified ? Absolutely. Will that forbid you to do your job ? Nope. “Can you follow the light ?” You asked, moving slowly your phone’s lamp from left to right in front of his eyes. He did it without questioning. “Ok good.” You tried a smile, not really knowing why. If he was at least a tenth as clever as the file said he was, he perfectly know that you’re here to fuck him up. But you couldn’t help it. Poor dude. He was visibly more or less your age. He could have been a prince, or thief, a womanizer, or a priest, whatever, HYDRA took everything from him. From his free will, of his right to grow old, to his sleep. “Can you tell me your name ?” He frowned, perplexed. “Winter Soldier.” Shitty answer but at least he was fully aware, and his tongue was working properly. “Nice to meet you, I’m doctor Y/N. We’re here to work together in preparation of your next assignment. Do you understand ?” He nodded, unimpressed. “Good, can you get up ?” He did, so you did it too. And he realized that you were… very short. His eyes literally went up and slooowly down. That was a bit mean, actually. You carefully took a glance behind you, and your eyeroll could probably trigger an earthquake. “Can you all nice gentlemen let down a bit of their weapon ?” You said at the 6 dudes with rifles literally fixed on him, ready to shoot at the wrong twitch of muscle. No wonder he wasn’t talkative. “You won’t say that when he will break your neck with two fingers, ‘mam.”

“He’s pretty stable for now. Plus he’s not fully awake, let’s give him time before threatening him, shall we ?”

Nobody moved for ten seconds before one of them complied, since you didn’t move. The rest of the bunch reluctantly followed . You looked at your patient, hoping that that would have made him a bit more relaxed. Nope, he didn’t give a shit. He wasn't even looking at them. He was looking at you. You’re the mystery of this room to him. But you didn’t need extra vision to understand that Docs treated him like a guinea pig, so he was very understandably extra careful with you. Standing on his feet, all his muscles ready for action, that’s the exact moment you realized how close you two were. Indeed, if he decided to, your jaw would fly across the room in a single move. You never had such a display of sheer raw strength, and you could feel the heat of his body radiate.

“He needs a shower, and clothings.” You said, having a look at his 5 years old combat suit still reeking the smell of his sweat. It was intoxicating. They didn’t even allow him to clean himself. Poor dude was frozen in his own filth for the last five years. And you didn’t know why you took an even deeper breath. “And I’m talking about comfy workout clothes, no combat suit. Please escort him and handle him with care, before bringing him to my office.” You actually decided to be sure he wouldn’t be mistreated, by waiting outside the man’s bathrooms. You weren’t certain of how he could react, and you didn’t trust anyone here. If one of them decided to do a piss contest with your patient, it could end badly. So you put your hands in your pockets, looking at the two armed men waiting for the most dangerous assassin in the world to finish scrubbing himself with soap. The atmosphere was heavy and the silence was loud in itself. Even the sound of the shower was stressful and menacing.

When the Soldier was escorted to your improvised office into the archive, directly linked to a storage room that will be your bedroom for the next weeks, you let him take a seat and promptly blocked the access to the room of the two escort members. “Thank you sirs, that will be all. Please wait here.” They look at you like you just told them you were dating their daughters. “Sorry Miss, but we can’t…” “Sorry Doctor , and I can’t work properly with weapons in my office.” You raised your hand, showing your device on your wrist. Something that would not only call for aid by a simple pressure, but could stun an opponent. Neither them nor you were stupid : it wouldn’t stop The Winter Soldier, maybe he would blink a second at most. But you really wanted to be alone with him. Was he dangerous ? Yes. Were you absolutely certain that you would leave this room alive if you closed this door to their face ? No. But it’s been three years since your priority wasn’t your survival anymore. So you forced a smile and slapped the door. They needed you more than you needed them, so they will obey.

“Douchebags.” You muttered to yourself while coming back to your desk. Your patient didn’t even move a muscle at your little argument. He wasn’t totally inexpressive actually, mostly terribly broody. His hair was still wet from the shower he took, wearing cargo pants, heavy boots and hoodies, generic clothes by HYDRA. You got those too, since you’re not allowed to carry anything personal for mission to mission. You had a tablet for books, music and movies, but that was it. You haven’t opened your shelves yet, but you know it’s full of ugly clothes and generic black panties of doom.

You took a large inspiration, sat on your desk in front of him, and started : “Ok ‘Winter Soldier’... how are you doing ?” He didn’t even flinch. He was staring into your soul with his eyes lost into dark circles. Depriving someone of proper sleep is a basic rule for brainwash. “You enjoyed the shower ?” Nothing. You waited for a bit to see if he would finally respond. Ten seconds. Twenty. fourty. a minute. When he gathered that you were actually looking for an answer, visibly a first one for him, he finally gave you the courtesy of one. “Yes.” “Perfect.” You didn’t hide your slight smile and tiled your head. “I’ll be sure you’re in your best condition for your next mission. If something’s on your mind, I need to know about it. Nothing will get out of this room. Both of our priorities are your goal, and your condition is the key to success. Which makes you , my high top priority. Do you understand me ?” “Yes.”

“Ok so let’s get going.” You took another file, and took a picture out, ready to handle it to him. “Is the name : Nicholas Fury, ringing some bells to you?” “Yes.” He took it inside his titanium fingers and finally moved his piercing blue eyes away from you to look at the picture. “In two weeks, you’ll be in Washington DC. An entire squad will be deployed to assassinate him. Fury is the leader of the S.H.I.E.L.D, not a mere target. He will break free and fight back. That will be when you’ll show up.” He wasn’t looking at the picture anymore. One thing for sure : at least he was paying attention to you, and what you were saying. And that made you actually kind of proud of yourself. “That was part one. I’ll personally supervise your training with the VR machine and your physical health and condition. I really need you to communicate with me all the time about anything that could be in your mind. The more focused you are, the more Hydra’s plan will succeed.” And what’s that plan ? You have not a single clue. You were a cog in the machine, disposable. Not much more than him. “Do you understand ?” “I understand.” Oh shit, two words this time!

“Good.” You smiled. He didn’t. You move your hands closer to him, to take a grip on the picture. He opened his prosthetic hand, leaving you to take it back. Nothing in his gesture seems dangerous. Just normal, somehow cordial. “I must ask : are you in any pain right now ?” His eyes significantly get from right to left. He must probably wonder why you are asking him that. Did nobody ever ask him such basic questions like : ‘are you in pain?’ This man's sole purpose was to fight, that made no damn sense for you.

“Sir ?” You insisted for an answer, even if the ‘sir’ sounded absolutely ridiculous to your ears. You didn’t know his name, and you don’t feel comfortable calling him “Winter Soldier” , “Soldier”, “Sir De Winter”, “Hey you,he soviet assassin” so it will be “Sir” for now. “Sir are you in pain right now ?” “I’m not in pain.” A complete sentence, that’s progress. You breathed a bit better “Ok good.” You got up from your desk, which was honestly barely taller that him remaining on his chair. He didn’t let go of your eyes and you decided to make a bold move. For now, he was always being responsive so you slowly moved your hands toward him. To his prosthetic hand. “May I take a look, please ?” You glanced at each other, nobody made the first move. In complete silence, if it wasn’t for both of your breaths. You’re almost sure that it has been at least 5 minutes since you decided to speak again. Slowly, and gently, with no signs of confrontation in your body language or speech. “I will not do it until you comply. And you can refuse the contact.” He didn’t answer right away but he finally nodded.

Slowly, you took his hand into yours, lifting it from his thigh where it was resting. At the beginning it was just taking a look. But he wasn’t making any moves, so you decided to take your observation a little further. You used your other hands to start to move each finger separately, taking a step closer to him. Finally, you made one of your hands slowly sliding into the hoodie, to feel the muscles, the nerves, how it feels like a real arm. It was cold, but you felt it shudder to your touch. That was the line you decided to not take it further.

“Thank you, Soldier.” You said with a smile, taking away your hands from him. You moved behind your desk, opening your notepad to take a bunch of notes, breaking the contact with him. Just a second. But when you raised your eyes again, The Winter Soldier wasn’t in sight.

You shuddered and didn’t make a single move. If it wasn’t for your fingers grasping your desk. You did your best to have a steady respiration and not start to panic. Your throat dried up immediately. You took a deep breath and say : “Please, get back to your seat.” You slowly moved your head to look right back at him. He was standing. His eyes were black, taking loud deep breaths, fixing your behind your shoulder. Tall. Dangerous. You were terrorised. And he could smell it. He didn’t move so you stood up as well, and slowly faced him. You try to remain in total control of your body and not start to fidget. You could scream for help, but for whatever reason, you still had the feeling you could handle the situation. Trying to convince yourself that it wasn’t the first time a patient was disobedient. The only difference was that this one could crush your skull in a bat of an eye,

“Get back.” You said once again, bearing his piercing eyes, but he didn’t budge. So you took out your hand and put it on his chest. You felt like an ant against a mountain, but you pushed him a bit. “We will go nowhere this way.” You resumed trying to get a step closer, even if it will be creating a proximity that could be even more lethal to you. “So please, get back to…”

Something happened. It was obvious, and clear as day : you felt the bulge between his legs. Right above your navel. Hardening even more now that he could feel your body. You decided immediately to repress the shameful feeling of your very inside warming up and tickling you. “Winter Soldier.” You growled, angry but trying your best to remain as professional as you could. Of course, of fucking course. This guy was gorged on serum and hormones, quick, violent actions, and adrenaline. Pumping in his veins, burning 24/7. His body was on the edge all the time, and he just awoke from a dreamless slumber. He was a human, whatever all these idiots were thinking, not a freakin’ cyborg. When was the last time he saw a woman that he didn’t smash the head on a wall ? You even suspected that Pierce was counting on it. Nonetheless, you were alone in an office, literally glued with the world's most dangerous assassin, who was having a massive hard-on. Throbbing against you. You had your share of very awkward situations in your short life time. But nothing, nothing prepared you for this. And you had even less of an idea of what to do because he was doing nothing . He was feeling uncomfortable, that you could say, but he wasn’t really doing any moves to attack you, or even take you. He was standing here, with heavy breathing, his eyes still piercing you. And you slowly slided your gaze to his lips, finding the vision of his hard laboured breath strangely mesmerizing.

Short of ideas, your reflexes took the best (or the worst) of you, and without you realizing it, your hand was around his neck. Your palm pressured on his glottis, and you clearly felt him swallow. As clearly as you felt him becoming even harder. Your breath was starting to shake, as you felt a not-so subtle chill coursing your spin. You drew his face and your face closer, as you finally moved forward, forcing him to move as well. Forcing was a strong word : the last time you hit a punching bag, you hurt yourself and sobbed for an hour. But for whatever reason, he did whatever you wanted. As if he was testing your resolve to make him obey. But there was nothing on his file about this behaviour. He tried to attack, kill and escape. Nothing about testing the limits of anyone.

“You. Will. Sit. Down!” you spat, through your teeth, forcing even more your grip around his neck, as your other hand was reaching for his hair. You pulled it, not too harshly, but you could definitely smell the musk, and the wetness of what stayed of his shower.

You did it. He was sitting down again. And your bodies departed for one another. For once he tried to escape your gaze, which was a strangely human reaction. You both managed to get your breath back, before you decided to call the guard to adjourn your observation.

As soon as the door closed behind them, you felt your legs giving up and you sat on the ground, back against your desk, a small wimp leaving your throat. You felt your eyes starting to wet, and your teeth rattled a bit so you tried to cuddle yourself to try to retake control on your body. Your hands were shaking uncontrollably as his intoxicating smell was still all around you. It was by far one of the most terrifying experiences you ever felt, and it was all clouded by the phantom feeling of his body against yours. You could still feel his gaze, his heat, his… well, his cock against your belly. You were still chilling, trying to repress whatever you were feeling at this instant. Because it wasn’t right, for you. Nor him. Everyone in this godforsaken organisation was treating him like a dog, just here to attack and do tricks, but you swore to yourself not to do the same. You will succeed at your mission, but you’ll do it from the crumbs of humanity and morality that HYDRA left you. You will do anything possible that the mission will be complete, the most painless possible for this broken man you just saw. Wait a second.

Painless .

You jumped on your feet, ignoring the numbness of your legs caused by the shock, and you ran at the door, screaming at the three men at the end of the corridor. “HEY !” The guards startled a bit and looked at you “I changed my mind. Bring the Winter Soldier back to my office.” They briefly exchange what seems to be a bunch of insults about you, but they comply to bring the Soldier back. Him ? He seemed absolutely unbothered.

You closed the door behind the both of you, to the face of the guards yet again. He was standing here, showing his back as you slowly got back in front of him. Hands in your pocket, not really sure of what to do nor how to do it. He was looking at you, this same feeling of unease than before. And for reasons : a small glance confirmed that he was still rock hard. You didn’t make any move for a long time, until you finally put your hand on his chest. You felt his breathing becoming slightly quicker. “You’re not in pain.” You whispered, and he shook his head, negatively. “That was the wrong question. I’m sorry... “ Without you noticing, you had the palm of your hand on his cheek, scrubing lightly his stubble with your thumb as an apology. You breathed in, just couldn’t believe what you were about to say. “Do you need help ?” His expression didn’t change, but his eyes ? They became a bit brighter, you could even see a bit of relief when you saw him nod.

You swiftly move your other index on his pillowy lips as you still lower your voice. “They cannot hear us.” He nodded again as the only feeling of your finger as close to his mouth made him shiver with anticipation. He was literally dying of anything that could relieve him. And for what you understood, as your conversation continued, he trusted you with his body, to provide him with the sweet touch he has been totally deprived of. You slowly push away your index to gently slide your thumb between his lips, and he sighed with pleasure as he took it with an eagerness you would never have believed possible. The most deadly assassin in the world, the legendary Winter Soldier that everyone wishes he wasn’t real, was purring while sucking your finger. If you weren’t the shrink, you’ll be needing one immediately. You gently moved him to make him sit in his chair, he was way too tall for you to handle this with ease. “What about the showers?” You asked him, as you removed your thumb to make it gently slide on his lips, your other hand crawling across his chest to his pants. He swallowed before whispering. “I could but... “ his well built square jaws started to tense, with a visible revulsion. “... They can watch.” Disgusting. He couldn’t even close the damn door of the shower. “You’re safe here.” You said as your hand was finally reaching the bulge behind his Hydra cargo pants. You didn’t know what you expected but… it was way beyond that. He hissed a bit at the feeling of your hand as you started to touch it gently over the fabric.

Now he was panting, looking at you as you were a single oasis after years of thirst in the desert. “Please…” You heard, barely audible when he was starting to lose it. “I got you, but you have to promise me to be good.” “Anything. Please…”

And at your very surprise, you obliged him. Using your hand to plunge into his pants, while the other fast pressed into his mouth, muffing the immediate deep moan that escaped at the very second you touched his pulsing penis. He started panting even more, as he used his flesh arm to drive you onto him. His forehead against yours. You couldn’t stop yourself from getting closer and closer. Actually you let go of his -massive- erection a second to just drop out his pants, and his breach. You stopped a second, only to watch him begging you with his eyes, as you could feel his saliva at the palm of your hand while you muzzled him. It was it. You realized what kind of power you have over this man. He has been used and abused in every single way, but for once : someone’s finally doing what he wanted. You had his pleasure in your very hands, and for once in years, you could finally help someone. So you’re gonna do it, you’re going to make him feel good. Very good. “Good boy.” You muttered, without knowing where the hell that could come from, and you reached him again. Stroking your hands up and down his shaft, nourishing yourself over the vibration of his muffled moans against your hand. His eyes weren't leaving yours, if it wasn’t for when they seemed to roll to the sky. His vision periodically blackened by the waves of forbidden pleasure he was feeling over his body, who was barely him anymore. Your eyes were gorging on the vision of his handsome muscular man, surrendering himself to your touch, sweating, trembling and panting for you. You were saluted by an utterly satisfied noise the moment you decided to lean over his manhood to drip a large amount of your own saliva moist what was already on the edge of ruin. You rolled your thumb against his tip, massage his veins with just one finger… anything to make him feel something. Anything that wasn’t pure anger, hatred or apathy. You were inclined to believe the file saying that he was nothing but a perfectly built weapon for HYDRA to command. But now, when you tickled, teased and made him shiver, and you felt all his sincere gratitude, you were certain : There is a man in here. And he was finally feeling good .

But soon, it wasn’t enough anymore. Seeing his bare thighs, powerful, thicken by years of training and super soldier serum, tensed by all the nerves and muscles deliciously answering to your call, made your inside warmed up. Your core was aching, screaming for proximity and intimacy, and before you understood what happened, you sat astride on his left thigh. The soft flesh between your legs immediately responded with delight, making you shiver. Almost instantly, you felt his grip on your hip, of the cold metal digging into your flesh with despair. It was a super soldier, with the stamina of several dozen men, but it’s been so long, and you were touching him with perfection. You felt his head on your shoulder, and slowly you started licking his temple, tasting the very fruit of your hard work : his sweat.

Galvanized by his intoxicating smell, and the thrusting he started giving to your hand, you started to move like a snake, rocking against his skin, looking for some pressure despite the fabric of your pants, mercilessly acting like a barrier of your own pleasure. You could get it off, but it was a limit that you forbid yourself to cross. But it’s true, as you were working him, you couldn’t stop yourself to think of how this would feel. Sliding inside you. You were so very short and fragile, and compared to your hand, his phallus was gigantic. He could ruin you, split you in half, using his bare hands and make you do anything. But the only person in control here, were you. And only you. You never felt anything like this before. And it’s highly probable than neither did he. You tried to vanish the thought, but the more you could feel his thigh between yours, the more you became obsessed.

The more he was approaching, the more eager the soldier became. Both of his hands firmly gripped on your behind, almost certain that it will leave bruises, but you didn’t care at this very moment. His grunts against your hands became more and more intense, and you started to feel he was about to give in. In between your fingers, small drips of salivas were started to escape. You couldn’t give up your grip now, so you made it even more tight, drawing your lips closer to your hands, you whispered as your sore wrist fastened its path “I’m here for you. Give everything to me.”

His panting became incontrolable, his eyes rolled out, his head dropped back, before he finally reached his peak. You felt the deep vibration of his ultimate cry on your hand, as your other hand was dripping of hot seed. You slowly removed your other hand from his face, and could contemplate your masterpiece : the Soldier absolutely looked like a mess, with his red face, his eyes blinking furiously, covered with his own saliva. You left his leg, both your hands dripping of his bodily fluids. You used the one that was on his lips to pick his head and forced him to look at you. You ravished your vision of this man who absolutely surrendered to your good care, deeply satisfied with your attention. You cradled his face, and you took a large lick of his spit from his chin to his mouth. Where he leaned for a wet and warm kiss. You took a good taste of him, intoxicated by whatever pheromones he could diffuse around you.

You look at him another few seconds, before recluandly moving away, to the bathroom where you not only washed your hands, but came back with a wet towel. You first cleaned with infinite care his face, and then his genitals, making sure he wouldn’t have any kind of unpleasant sensation as he had a big day ahead of him. You were his doctor and caretaker, and he had a mission to prepare. He seemed to respond well to the cleaning, not really expressive, but he made no sudden move. You could see him sighing with ease, closing his eyes as he rubbed his cheek in your palm again, when you were caressing him with the wet towel. You could still hear a loud satisfying purr. If you didn’t specifically ask him to kill someone less that an hour ago, you would actually find this absolutely adorable.

You breathed in and out, making sure he was okay. “Are you feeling better ?...” He nodded, visibly relaxed, as he was closing his pants but not much more expressive than before. He stood up, in front of you, like nothing happened. “Yes.” But to your surprise he added a second later. “Thank you, doctor.” You smiled at him as you couldn’t keep yourself from making your knuckles caressing his cheek, and finally tracking the shape of his jaws. “Good boy.” You heard yourself say, wondering what the fuck was wrong with you.He didn’t react. All the shivers, purring, sighing, and moans disappeared as soon as his pants closed. It was for the best, and you quickly took your hand back, clearing your throat. You call the guards. The Winter Soldier was fully ready for his mission preparation, and you asked them to give him some time to recover from… his cryostatic, before you would start the procedure.

In the meantime, you need a shower. A long, hot, steamy, shower.

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srn-clrwtr · 4 years ago

Text

dating embry call,,,, kind of HAHA

i hate myself for writing this, however, it was asked of me and i have no other ideas 😐😐 pls,,, go easy on me. i’m not good at romance, or any writing, but... i need to release something HAHAHA also i hate writing in second person but i’m TRYING **pls reblog**

also this is more like??? plot based??? in the beginning anyway. it isn’t till the end where i throw some headcanons in there... my writing goes from eloquent to straight up meme sorry about it :)

pls enjoy this v v v v long request and pls excuse any errors 🙏🙏 i’m going to edit this throughout the day

***also this is after breaking dawn and the cullens r gone and resume never happens :)

your mother had called la push her childhood home. it was the place she had learned to walk and ride a bike, it was where she experienced her first love and heartbreak, and the place where she knew unconditional love and friendship.

embry’s mother had been her best friend since she could talk, the woman knew her like she had known herself. where one was, you could always find the other.

they were the same person, all before yours had moved away. the second she was able to free herself of the chilled and misty winds of the torrential northwest, she was gone.

while she was utterly in love with the life she built, she itched for something beyond the quiet comfort of gentle rain. still, she always knew that she could find solace in the waterlogged soil if she ever needed.

and so she began with college, where she rooted herself with a man just a few short years older than herself. she moved in tandem with him, where he stepped, she followed.

when she fell pregnant with you, she found herself settling down and building a home. from crumpled photos on the fridge, to the sea smoothed stone that littered the windowsill above the sink, she left subtle reminders of the home she had left behind.

your father was initially a happy man, loud and boisterous with a grin so contagious, even the moon smiled back. you suppose it was what your mother had fallen for.

as you grew, his sunny aura shifted, hidden from the dark and looming clouds of a more than stressful work week. by the time you hit middle school, you understood that even though he had loved you and your mother, his priorities were found elsewhere.

your mother understood that raising you was best alone. though her husband responsible, living with the shell of the man he once was, was pointless. he was far too rooted within the floorboards of his office to quell the brewing storm of their marriage.

by the time you were in high school, your parents had divorced, and your mother had asked you about moving back to her own home town.

while she understood that moving away from your own home could be hard, all she had to do was mention embry.

Embry Call was the highlight of your summers. Your father was always too busy for family vacations, and so your mother always took you to La Push for a few weeks during the summer or over the holiday. Her job allowed to work from the comfort of her home, so trips to visit Embry and his mother weren’t entirely uncommon.

whenever you went to visit, you were both joined at the hip. As children, your fingers were always laced as he brought you all over the reservation. From the beaches to the middle of the forrest, he made sure you always ended up caked in mud, hair tangled messy.

In middle school, you were introduced to Jake and Quil, where you graduated from mud pies and forts, onto bonfires and the dryness of jake’s workshop.

of course, you still went on the occasional hike with embry, eager for at least some alone time away from your mutual friends.

it was pretty obvious that the both of you liked each other, but you were young. it was playground love, if you could even call it that.

into high school you stopped visiting so much, your mother grew busier, and you began to focus more on your own studies... during the summer, you enjoyed time at home, with friends not so far away.

still, you both stuck to phone calls. they were generally late at night, usually with the excuse of studying and school. you had no idea that it was actually because he ran on a much later schedule due to his shift.

and so when she all but mentioned Embry Call, you agreed... apprehensively, of course. at the end of the day though, you knew that you wouldn’t exactly be alone.

and truth me told, you always kind of liked it there better... the memories you made in la push were the best you had.

when you had arrived in la push, your mother had breathed in the air with a gentle smile, eyes closed as she took in the misty air. it was then when you began to wonder how much she had actually missed her home there.

embry’s mother had come to help unpack, explaining that embry was off running a couple of errands for her. a lie of course.

you were obviously bummed, a small pout gracing your features before your mother had all but rushed you to start unpacking. embry was not forgotten, the boy still on your mind as you grumbled throughout the rest of the night.

it wasn’t until after dark, when the sky was surprisingly clear with stars, did you get to see your long time friend.

with a knock to the door, and a shout from your mother telling you to answer it, you had flown down the stairs... with a small gripe of course. she was in the dining room. why couldn’t she get it?

the attitude all but vanished from your being as you opened the door to see embry, so much more different than you had last remembered.

it took you a moment to recognize him— his chest and shoulders were broad, hair cut short compared to the long inky strands that you were used to.

it took maybe a few seconds at most to register that the boy standing before you was indeed embry, and once that small fact had clicked, you all but flung yourself into his arms.

“em, oh my god just look at you! what in the hell did you do to your hair?!” your exclamation was muddled into nothing to embry, taking a few seconds himself to respond to your embrace.

little did you know that when the door had flung open, and his eyes met yours, his mind went blank as the world stopped spinning. the only thing on his mind, was you.

with gentle hands, he pulled you close and returned your hug. he had laughed a little bit, letting go of the breath he seemed to be holding, “it’s good to see you too, y/n”

embry hadn’t expected to imprint at all, let alone on the one person he wanted it to be the most. it was the first time he had seen you since his shift, and he had all but forced himself to forget any chances with you. all until you had opened the door.

you pulled away with a grin, quick to tug him inside your home, “you okay though? looks like i lost you in space there for a second.” and in all honesty, it looked as if he still was.

“yeah yeah, no... i’m okay! promise. i just... i’ve got a lot on my mind, is all.” you chose not to pay any attention to the way his eyes looked to the ceiling when he spoke, or the way he stammered out his response.

instead, you turned to your mother, where she sat at the counter with embry’s mom, tea in hand. They were smug as you spoke, “if it’s okay, i’m going to drag embry upstairs... i can’t put my bed frame together for the life of me.”

your mother shrugged her shoulders and looked over to her friend, “i don’t care—” and before she could finish, you yelled out a quick thanks before rushing up the steps.

neither of you missed the, “keep the door open!” from embry’s mother. you laughed it off, meanwhile, embry’s skin darkened with blush as he stuttered out a complaint. to say he was horrified, was an understatement.

embry was up in the clouds. it was you. of course it was you. it has always been you. though embarrassed, he couldn’t help but admire the way you could laugh something off so easily. how you blew the constant teasing off from his mother without question. and then he thought about how you did the same with jake and quil... you accepted it. you played right back.

images of you with his pack floated through his mind like dreams, a soft smile on his face. if you could get along with quil and jake, and take their endless amounts of teasing, then there wasn’t a doubt in his mind about his other friends, his brothers.

embry hadn’t noticed that you had laced your fingers between his, or that you were talking aimlessly to him. it wasn’t until you stopped leading him down the halls of your home did he realize.

you had turned around to look at him fully, head tilted in wonder as you held eye contact with him, “i wasn’t kidding when i said i needed help, embry. but if you have too much on your mind, we can talk it out too, you know?”

his heart fluttered a bit, eyes wide as he stared down at you, “no! no. i can help. i just... i’ve missed you.” and before you could squeeze in a cheeky comment, he continued, “well i mean, i mean we all do! my mom missed you visiting... i did too! and then jacob and quil never stoped pestering me about when you were going to visit again... and... and now your here! for good...”

you giggled as he rambled on, trying to cover up his obvious mistake. rather than watch him stutter over his words, you shook your head and lead him into your bedroom, “okay embry i get it. i missed you too. now, please for the love of god help me with my bed.”

this seemed to shut him up as he gazed into your bedroom, where your bed frame lay across the floor... somewhat put together, and lopsided, “well i mean you’re half way there... i guess?” he noticed the screws and various tools scattered across the floors and smiled fondly, “don’t worry, i’m here the save the day. let’s see what we got.”

and as he began to reconstruct your bed frame, you watched on in admiration. he wasn’t aware of your silent stare as he worked. instead, he was focused on the task at hand... admittedly, also day dreaming. ever since you had opened the door, his brain had turned to mush.

“so em... are you going to tell me why you cut your hair? or how you changed so much since the last time i saw you? you never even mentioned it over the phone!”

the boy looked up at you as you questioned him, hand moving to scratch at the back of his head, “i mean... well.. i just needed a change i guess. long hair is a lot of maintenance and with school being so... busy? i guess i just wanted one less thing to worry about.” his excuse seemed rehearsed, but you payed no mind. if he didn’t want to tell you the truth, you weren’t going to make him. not now anyway.

you nodded, and let out a hum. you thought about a lot of things, such as why he seemed so stressed and up tight. or why he felt the need to lie about his hair. using the excuse of “it’s too hard to keep up with” was bs. at least to you. whenever you came to visit, you had noticed that his hair was a priority to him, just like it was for jake and some of the others on the reservation.

he kept it well, carried around hair bands for when he needed to keep it back, and even had a brush sometimes. he wouldn’t even let anybody except for his mom touch it. why did he think you were going to believe his lie so easily?

the rest of the night went on with ease. it took embry less than fifteen minutes to figure out your bed frame, insisting that he put on the mattress himself.

the rest of the time, embry had watched you unpack. you wouldn’t let him help after he put the bed frame together, so he settled for asking you about life since he last saw you. he danced around your own questions, making up excuses here and there for his appearance or tired complexion.

eventually, you took a seat next to him as you spoke. you smiled as his head fell against your shoulder, “you can rest your eyes em, i won’t mind.” he all but nodded, hair brushing against your cheek as he settled closer. he hadn’t realized how exhausted he was until you told him.

it wasn’t long before embry’s mother had come up the stairs to find embry asleep on your shoulder. she leaned against your door frame as you waved to her, “i’ll wake him up and send him down. it won’t be but two minutes.” at that, she nodded and turned around.

hand coming to rest against the skin above his knee, you ahook his leg gently, “okay emmy. you gotta wake up, your mom is waiting for you downstairs...” he stirred awake, body stretching as he hummed, “i’ll see you tomorrow? maybe?”

he nodded at your inquiry, rubbing his eyes, “yeah, i’ll see you tomorrow... just, just call me when you wake up or something. the boys will want to see you... maybe i can take you to meet some more friends of mine? a bonfire maybe?”

you agreed, and pulled him up for a hug goodbye. his body was hot against yours, another question forming at the top of your tongue. it was like he knew, and before you could mumble it out, he pulled away to ruffle your hair. with a quick ‘see you later’ he all but rushed out the door, leaving you in a comfortable silence.

embry and you only grew closer after that. he couldn’t help but cry a little inside when he saw you interact with his brothers the following night. you all sat around a fire at the beach, where you had laughed and played into friendly banter as you snuggled up into his side.

you stuck your tongue out at quil nd jake whenever they had something to say about you both together.

into the following weeks, you and embry acted as if you were already dating. he never uttered a word about the wolf thing until seth had let a comment slip past his lips, something about how, “us wolves are just like that”

and then embry told you. you had all but laughed in his face when he told you, turning to cry after he shifted. it wasn’t like you were upset, you were just... overwhelmed. he walked you home that night, where he tucked you into bed and kissed your forehead, apologies rushing from his mouth. you refused to let him leave you after that.

you pulled him beside you and buried your head in his chest and basked in the silence of your room. he let you, running his fingers through your hair as he let you think everything out. he was afraid to speak, terrified of losing you.

you were the one to break the silence, peaking up at him, your eyes red from tears, “you owe me so many answers, embry call. too many for you to even count.” embry laughed a little, letting the tears he held back fall down his cheeks, nodding as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

he did give you answers. all of them. he told you about when and how... and why. he told you that after the cullens left, he stopped shifting so much. he wasn’t as busy anymore, no longer needing to patrol the woods for roaming leeches. after they left, the trouble they brewed followed.

he calmed your worries before you even spoke of them, promising that everything was okay, and that you’d be the first to know if they weren’t. he all but promised to keep you safe.

later, when he asked you on a date, you agreed as fast as ever. you had claimed that you already thought you were together. embry sort of died a little at that, peppering little kisses over your face.

he only told you about imprinting after having an established relationship so you could get used to the wolf thing.

made sure to explain to you that he loved you before it happened.

dating embry was... simple. it was like being his best friend with the exception of intimacy.

he loved cuddling, and always found a way to pull you into his embrace when you weren’t looking.

he was literally glued to your hip. in the kitchen, he hugged you from behind.

on the couch, he preferred to pull you into his lap or against his side, arms wrapped around you.

honestly

this man would use your chest or hips/butt as a pillow, you are not getting away from that.

dating embry also means cooking. a lot. you had practically beg emily for her muffin recipe before she finally caved. she made you swear it to secrecy.

when you first made them, embry had walked into your home and nearly cried in excitement. he was not expecting the sweet smell to greet him when he opened the door.

when you’re sick, you have to shove embry out the door. while it’s nice to know that he’s worried about your well being, he’s extremely annoying. and you love him for it.

he settles for pressing kisses to your forehead when you’re sound asleep.

embry also is the kind of guy to be like, “do yOu nEed heLP?!1?!?1” :/

no sir they does not but thank u for asking

“arE yOu sURe??1??” :// dude if u don’t stop ✋

he means well but sometimes you really have to grab his face and press your forehead to his nd say, “embry. i am more than capable of doing this by myself. i need u to sit down and be quiet or do something else because i am b u s y” instantly makes him check out for a hot second tbh

he knows you’re more than capable and that you don’t need his help, but like???? he’s still?? like he wants to ask and be helpful all of the ti m e

this usually happens when you’re making dinner for him or something

he feels bad cause he feels like you do too much for him

so you usually tell him that he can help clean up HDHSJ

when you told your parents that you guys were dating, they were all like, “oh baby,,, we already knew that” they have been planning your guys’ wedding since u turned 10 and they caught u guys holding hands

maybe u join jake nd quil in teasing embry

you have to make it up with kisses

embry strikes me as a pouty type... not like, the annoying?? pouty??? but a cute pouty. one kiss to his forehead tho and he’s g o n e

anyway,, dating embry is as easy as counting. he’s loveable and sweet and he’s funny and the love of your life.

the person who requested this brought up marriage too but this is already too mfing long u feel

so maybe another day

bye bye now

#srnclrwtrhc #twilight #twilight saga #embry call #twilight wolfpack #quil ateara #jacob black #embry call fanfiction #embry call x reader #🤢 sorry i can’t HAHAH #ok #enjoy this sad piece of writing #mwah #embry call imagine #embry call imagines #embry x reader

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icedthoma · 5 years ago

Text

you wanna be my partner, partner?

Pairing: Pro hero!Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

Summary: You never truly appreciate who you have until they’re gone.

“Great job today, Ground Zero!” you exclaimed, holding your hand up for a high-five.

Bakugou scoffed and ignored you, choosing to walk past your outstretched hand. “Whatever.” Unfazed, you ran to keep up with his brisk stride as the two of you walked down the halls of his hero agency. “Are you still following me?” he asked.

“I’m just heading in the same direction you are,” you said cheerfully. “You’re not that special,” you added as a joke.

“Tch,” Bakugou huffed, noticing how he felt a pang of disappointment at your last words. Wait, why was he caring about what you thought of him? No, it was because you were his sidekick, and he valued your teamwork enough to care about your opinion.

That was all there was to it.

After he had changed out of his hero costume and headed home for the day, he saw you standing at the entrance to his agency as he was leaving. You looked…different in your civilian clothes. Well, obviously, as he was used to seeing you in your hero uniform, but there was something about the casual, relaxed way you stood with your hair down and the small yawns you made as you checked your phone that sent Bakugou’s mind reeling.

“Oh, hey!” you called, glancing up from your phone and spotting him. “You’re headed out, too?”

“Yeah,” he said in reply. “Why are you just standing out here?”

“I was waiting for you,” you said, deadpan. At his shocked expression, you laughed and waved him off. “No, I’m waiting for my friend to pick me up. I’m having dinner at his place tonight.”

“His?” Bakugou asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

“Just a family friend,” you said nonchalantly, checking your phone again. “Oh, are you doing anything this Christmas? Let me guess, you’re not taking any time off.”

“Crime never rests,” he said. “So neither should I.”

“Criminals are human, too,” you said. “And so are you. Don’t you have family or friends you’d like to spend time with this Christmas? You deserve a break.”

Before he could respond, a car pulled up and a voice within called your name. “Got to go! See you tomorrow!” With that, you waved goodbye and got into the car with your friend.

Once you were gone, Katsuki groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance at himself. What was he thinking, being all suspicious over your friend?

Still, he couldn’t fully turn away the dismay he felt when you had said you weren’t waiting for him, after all.

Screw you for making him feel all confused on the inside like this.

He decided the best thing to do in this situation was to keep busy. Bakugou threw himself into his work with twice the vigor he usually did. After all, being a hero took all of his mental capacity. There wasn’t any room for his confusion about you.

“Hey, Ground Zero,” you called, snapping him out of his thoughts. He remembered that he was supposed to be focusing on patrolling the city.

“Yeah? See anything suspicious?”

“Oh yeah, that ramen shop over there looks pretty shady.”

“Shut up,” he snapped.

“I was going to ask if you were up for some, anyway,” you offered. “My treat?”

Bakugou jerked his head up and down as a response. Why pass up free food? A few minutes later, the two of you sat on the roof of a nearby building, the hot bowls of ramen warming your bellies.

You sighed in contentment, leaning back on the roof to gaze at the busy city down below. “You’re acting differently than usual.”

“What do you mean?” Bakugou asked. “This is how I always am!”

You shifted around to face him. “No, something’s off. You’re overexerting yourself, practically trying to drown yourself in work. You’re literally not letting me do anything to help.”

“This is none of your business!”

“But as your sidekick, I’m pretty sure it is!” you said, your voice stretching thin with frustration. “Being a hero is my job, too, you know!”

He stared at you, dumbfounded. Bakugou had been so occupied with keeping himself busy from his stupid thoughts that he never realized how that was affecting you. You looked hurt, and your sad expression felt like knives in his chest at the fact that he had made you feel that way.

“What…do you want me to do?” Katsuki asked.

“Christmas is tomorrow, so take. The day. Off.”

“Are you serious? You’ll be by yourself, and I’m not sitting around while you work!” he protested.

“You’re not being lazy, you’re taking a well-deserved break. I’ll hold down the fort from here,” you added, giving the hero an enthusiastic thumbs up. “Don’t worry. I got your back, partner!”

Normally, if someone had told him to take a break and let his sidekick take over for a day, Bakugou would have exploded their ass all the way to America.

But you, you were different. He wanted to listen to you. It was an odd feeling, but at least you weren’t stressing yourself out over him, Katsuki reasoned as he made his way to Kirishima’s place the next day. A bunch of his other friends from UA were also supposed to meet there as well.

“Hey! You came!” his best friend shouted eagerly, slapping Bakugou’s back with enthusiasm. “I honestly didn’t think you’d show, given your marriage to your work.”

“Shut up!” Bakugou yelled. “I’m not married to my wo–”

Three other voices called his name, and he turned to see Mina, Kaminari, and Sero headed their way. “It’s so nice to see you!” Mina exclaimed, enveloping him in a giant hug. “You’re always so busy, and we miss seeing you outside of hero work!”

Okay. So maybe you had a few points in saying that he needed a break.

Eventually, some more people from their class showed up, and the night consisted of festive eating and gift exchanging. It was nice, Bakugou had to admit, being able to relax with his friends.

“Hey, Bakubro! Your phone’s going off like crazy!” Kirishima said.

“What?” Bakugou rolled his eyes and scooped the device up, wondering who could be texting him at this hour–

“Oh my god.”

“Wait, what’s wrong?”

“I have to go—Y/n’s in trouble!” Bakugou yelled over his shoulder, already halfway out the door.

“...a sidekick from Ground Zero’s hero agency is currently unresponsive while pros Deku and Shouto have taken over handling the villain attack. The villain was reported to...”

“No, no, no,” he hissed, staring desperately at the news broadcast on his phone. “How could I let this happen?”

He blasted his way to the hospital, practically kicking the doors open as he ran in gasping your name to the receptionist.

“I’m sorry, sir. Only family is allowed in at this time.”

Bakugou was so focused on getting to you that he blurted out the first thing that came to his mind in his desperation.

“I’m her boyfriend!”

Miraculously, his bluff worked, and Bakugou practically sprinted to your room. Throwing the door open, he felt his heart drop at what he saw.

You were lying on the hospital bed, bandaged all over. The room was silent save for the quiet noises the machines around you made. Everything about this was wrong. You were such a lively person, always happy to be doing your best as his sidekick. Seeing you lying still and unmoving was such a stark contrast to what Bakugou was used to.

“Hey,” you said suddenly, and it was then that Bakugou realized that your eyes had opened. “You’re here.”

“You’re awake?” he asked, taking deep breaths to calm his racing heart. “How?”

“Trust me, it looks worse than it feels,” you replied. “I’ll be back to work in no time, don’t worry!”

“You idiot! I knew taking a break was a bad idea, this is all my fault--”

“This is not your fault,” you interrupted sternly. “Don’t blame yourself, Ground Zero.”

Bakugou winced at the sound of his hero name leaving your lips. Heroes protected people, right? But he couldn’t protect you…

“Oh, sweetie, you’re awake,” a nurse said upon entering the room. “I just need to take your vitals, okay?” She passed by Bakugou and smiled. “How sweet of your boyfriend to make it here so quickly! I bet you were really worried, weren’t you?”

Bakugou could only grit his teeth and nod. You were staring at him as the nurse moved around you, and he felt his cheeks burn in embarrassment. He wanted to melt into the floor. Surprisingly, you didn’t say anything about it, until the nurse left and you turned to him. “Okay, explain.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Bakugou said stiffly.

“You being my boyfriend?”

“Well, they wouldn’t let just anyone in--”

“You didn’t think to tell them that I was your sidekick?”

“I panicked!” he yelled defensively. “I really needed to see you--and I said the first thing that came to...mind...”

"Wait, what?”

“I like you, okay?” Bakugou confessed. “I care for you more than a sidekick, and I’m sorry for taking you for granted all this time.

“Is that an apology coming from the Ground Zero’s mouth?” you said incredulously.

“Katsuki,” he said. “Call me Katsuki when we’re not working.”

“Okay, Katsuki. However, as your fake girlfriend, I’m afraid I have to break up with you.”

“What?” Bakugou spluttered, red in the face at your statement. “That’s not--”

“So you can ask me out properly when I get out of here,” you went on with a laugh.

“What do you want me to do now?” he asked softly.

“Get over here and hug me.”

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shoutosteakettle · 4 years ago

Text

⤷ pairing: shouto todoroki x reader

⤷ genre: fluff

⤷ word count: 2786

⤷ a/n: i had a lot of fun writing this even if it took me three days, so i hope you guys have fun reading,, thank you @ererokii for beta-reading and making the header, love you bby

☆彡

“What do you mean we have the day off,” you asked your boyfriend, one foot already out the door, and you fully dressed and prepared to go kick ass as a pro hero.

“Look outside Y/n,” you shifted your attention from Shouto, focusing on the raging blizzard outside through the window of your apartment.

“You’re going to let a couple of snowflakes stop us from saving people,” you asked, not so silently judging the half and half man currently pouring himself a bowl of cereal in the kitchen.

“The agency called for an off day. You can go to work, but no one’ll be there,” Shouto sighed, grabbing the milk carton from the fridge.

“Are you serious,” you pouted, stepping back inside and closing the door behind you.

“I know how much you love your job, but you work too hard. Maybe this is a sign that you should take a break,” Shou suggested, putting the cap back on the milk and placing it on the top shelf inside the fridge.

“I love that you worry for me, but I work so hard because I love my job. Seeing the smiles on people’s faces whenever I arrive at an incident and being able to help them is always the second-best part of my day,” you confessed, making your way back to your bedroom so you could change and get comfy.

Shouto watched you disappear into your shared bedroom as he took another spoonful of his cereal. He listened from the kitchen as you opened and closed draws, grumbling about how much this sucked. He would never admit it, but his feelings were a little hurt that you thought having to spend a day with him was that bad. After a couple of minutes, you reemerged from the bedroom wearing a pair of Shouto’s grey sweats that sat loosely on your hips, not that it mattered because the oversized pink hoodie you were wearing covered everything up perfectly.

You made your way over to your boyfriend, who was in the middle of reading the back of the cereal box. “Is there any more,” you asked Shou, prompting him to look up from the maze he was close to solving. You guys had been living together for three months and dating for twelve, but he couldn’t help but blush every time he saw you in his clothes.

“Uh, yeah,” Shou said, reaching over to hand you the cereal box. He watched as you mimicked the same steps he had taken earlier, taking a bowl out the cabinet, then moving to the fridge to get the milk, and he realized something that made him feel all fuzzy on the inside, it was always in moments like this where you looked the most mundane when you were the most beautiful to him.

“What are you staring at,” you teased, pulling out a chair across the table from your boyfriend.

“You,” he paused mid-scoop of his cereal, a bit taken aback by his own suddenness, but deciding to along with it, “Do I tell you often enough how beautiful? Because you are very, very beautiful.”

Now it was your turn to blush. You reached over to run your fingers against the softness of his cheek, peering into his eyes as you felt the butterflies in your stomach begin to rise, “I don’t know how I ended up with someone as perfect as you.” You watched his lips curl up into a smile, and you noticed the way that his eyes lit up when you leaned over to steal a kiss before sitting back down in your seat.

“So what should we do today” you asked, completely blanking on anything you guys could do to have fun on what was probably going to be a pretty boring day.

He took less than a minute to ponder your question, before standing up from the table and gathering his dishes, “Do you remember the night you first stayed over? We popped-”

“Popped popcorn and made a fort and spent all night cuddled up together watching movies,” you recalled, remembering how nervous you were that day. By now, being all close and personal with Shou was something you had gotten used to, but in the earlier days of your relationship, it took you awhile to get used to how cold he was. He wasn’t someone who craved affection, which meant 90% of the time you were the one that had to initiate interactions with him, even the little things like hand-holding. But over time, he had gotten used to the random pecks on his cheek, and your hugs from behind, and every now and then he would call you by a name that wasn’t your own, or pull you in for an unsolicited smooch session. “Is that what you want to do today?”

“Unless you want to do something else. It’s up to you,” Shou answered, placing the bowls he had finished washing on the drying rack before shifting his attention towards the empty food bowls by the fridge.

“I think that sounds like a plan,” you smiled, standing up from the table to pass your boyfriend a can of cat food from the pantry. At the sound of the can opening, you watched the eyes of your black house cat open, and after a short stretching session, the pitter-patter of her little feet on the hardwood was heard throughout the living room. For a second or two, you watched to make sure that she paced herself while she was eating, worried that she might choke on the pellets.

“Y/n, Luna is going to be fine. I don’t know why you worry about her so much,” Shou sighed, picking up her water bowl and trailing over to the sink. You listened to the soft purrs of your cat as she ate from her white food bowl, decorated with black fish and crossbones patterned around the rim, before the sound of the tap running filled the silence of the kitchen. You had found Luna one day in the parking garage. You remember how scared she looked when your eyes met hers through the windshield of your car. She was half dead and starving and in no condition to be running the streets the way she was. The next month and a half consisted of you and Shouto taking her to vet appointments and learning how to function with the new addition to your family.

“Well, she is our practice kid, right? If I do a good job parenting her, then the skills should automatically transfer over when we have a real kid to take care of,” you said very matter of factly, watching the muscles in Shou’s forearm flex as he squatted to place the water bowl down where it had originally sat.

“So how about you pop the popcorn and I set up the movie, that way we can do the fort together,” you asked, already moving towards the living room. You heard a quick hum from Shouto followed by the sound of his slippers hitting the kitchen titles. You shuffled through Shouto’s Blu Ray collection, picking out some of his favorite movies along with your own.

Just as you were about to shift your attention towards trying to figure out how to work Shouto’s ancient DVD player, the lights in the living room went out, then the ones in the hallway. You turned your head to Shou, who was standing in the kitchen, pressing the buttons on the microwave in frustration, trying to get it to work again. You moved to pick up Luna, ignoring the painful sting of her nails scratching your skin before walking towards your confused boyfriend in the kitchen corner.

“Babe, I think the power is out,” you said, placing your hand on top of his, successfully grasping his attention. “I think we should call the landlord.”

ミ☆

While you listened to the conversation Shouto and the landlord were having on the phone, you checked in with your neighbor across the hall, asking her if she was having the same problems but most importantly, making sure she was okay. She told you that her power had gone out too and assured you that she and her family were doing perfectly fine. After you had texted her goodbye, you turned to Shou, who had just finished up his call. “It looks like the power for the whole city is out,” he sighed, and that was pretty sucky, but the sad look on his face bothered you even more.

“What’s wrong, Shou? Is having internet really that important to you,” you joked, trying your best to lift his spirits only to be met with a heavy sigh.

You felt the weight of the couch shift under you, and you watched as Shouto took your hands in his. The feeling of his warm, calloused palms against you, along with the intertwining of your fingers, was one of your favorites in the world. You looked up from your hands and into Shouto’s eyes only for him to already be looking right back at you. “It’s not about the wifi. It’s just that today was finally going to be a chance for us to spend some time together. We may work at the same agency, and sleep in the same bed, but recently I’ve just felt really… distant from you,” he confessed, and you had to admit it was a bit odd for him to be the one complaining about distance.

You felt more than a little guilty as all the times you turned down eating lunch with him in favor for a couple extra minutes of gym time, or the times you would come home after patrolling into the late hours of the night, only for Shouto to be fast asleep, came rushing back to you. You couldn’t stop the tear that had rolled down your cheek or the ones that followed after that as you stared back at the sad eyes piercing your soul. “I’m really sorry, Shou,” was all you could manage to choke out before you wrapped your arms around his waist and pulled him into a hug that spoke all the words you were unable to.

Confusion was evident on Shouto’s face, he didn’t expect his sudden outburst expressing his feelings to have the effect that it did on you. Uncertain on what to do with his hands, Shou settled on rubbing your back, trying his best to calm you down, “I didn’t mean for you to cry Y/n. I’m sorry if I said anything to offend you-”

“I’m sorry for being the worst girlfriend ever. I can’t believe I put my job before you,” you sobbed, feeling bad that he had to put up with you for the past couple of months, “Look our day isn’t completely ruined. We can still build the fort, and instead of watching movies, we can… catch up on some reading!” You watched the smile on Shouto’s face slowly grow into a big goofy grin before he nodded in agreement with your idea.

☆彡

Shouto had taken responsibility for the fort’s structure, making sure the blankets were secure in the way they draped over the back of your kitchen chairs and that there was enough room in the fort for the two of you plus Luna. You were on comfort detail, scouring the apartment for pillows and fluffy blankets, seeing as the heat had gone out it was up to you to make sure that the members of your household didn’t freeze to death.

After what felt like hours, but was really just thirty minutes (something Shouto was sure to remind you of every time you complained), of hard work and bickering about the placement of certain pillows and where to lay the blankets, you and Shouto were able to take a step back and look at the masterpiece you and he had created. “It’s beautiful,” you said, feeling on top of the world and full of pride because you knew that you and your boyfriend had just built the most perfect fort that had ever had the pleasure of gracing the earth. The base of the pillow fort was decked out with your thickest and most comfortable blankets and fluffiest pillows, seeing as that would be where you would be relaxing, so of course, you would want it to be as comfy as possible. Surrounding the fort were four chairs, all an equal distance from each other, on top of those laid your thinnest blankets, Shou had decided that they were the least likely to weigh the fort’s structure down. The mix-matched colors and patterns of your fort happened to compliment each other in the best way, which only added to its beauty.

You got on your hands and knees to crawl inside, considering that the fort was nowhere tall enough for you to get inside any other way. You were waiting for Shou to join you, but instead, you were met with your pet cat’s soft purs. You heard Shouto’s footsteps descending back to the kitchen, and you waited a minute or two for him to join before you let your curiosity get the best of you, “Whatcha doing over there, Shou?”

“Just give me a minute, I’ll be right there love,” the sound of the nickname he didn’t use too often made your stomach once again fill to the brim with butterflies. You looked over to Luna and gave her an excited smile, and in return, she gave you a quick ‘meow’ before going back to licking in between her paws.

To fill the time, you decided to start one of the books Shouto had picked out for you to read. It was called Broken Things and much to your surprise, the book was actually really interesting, the story followed this girl who was willing to give away everything for the happiness of others, regardless of the repercussions it had on her life. You were sure he was trying to send you a message because Shou saying you were too nice was a complaint you heard leave his lips way too often.

When Shouto finally came back, he had a mug in each hand, proving it to be rather difficult for him to get inside. You took the cups from his hands to help him watching as he got down on all fours like you had earlier and inside to join you and Luna, the warmth of the cups was a nice difference from the cold air in the room. “Is this hot chocolate? The gas is out too, right? How did you make this,” you asked, your eyes wide with awe because he had remembered your favorite drink, something you had told him when you first started dating. Your eyes followed the small smile on your boyfriend’s lips as he took a seat to the left of you before reaching for his drink.

“This same way I can do this,” he said, pulling you in closer so you could feel the warmth of his quirk. You snuggled in close to the human radiator sitting next to you, setting your cup down in favor of picking up where you had left off in your book, Shou doing the same.

After what couldn’t have been more than thirty minutes, you broke the comfortable silence that had settled between the two of you, to ask Shouto a question that you had been bugging you all day, “The office didn’t call for an off day did they?”

“How did you know,” he asked, looking over at you like a kid that had been caught drawing on the walls.

“Agencies don’t call for off days dummy, they can’t have all the heroes on break when there’s still people out there to save. Plus, you’re terrible at lying, I could tell you weren’t telling the truth the moment after you said it,” you looked up from the page you were on and into the heterochromatic eyes that had been staring at you.

“Do you mind if I ask you a question too,” Shouto asked, receiving a hum from you in return, “You mentioned earlier you said work was your second favorite part of the day, what’s your first?”

Once again, you looked up from your book, completely abandoning this time it in favor of laying your head on Shou’s chest and closing your eyes before answering his question, “Waking up next to you.”

You couldn’t see him, but you already knew his usually pale cheeks were slowly turning to a shade of rosy pink, and you cursed yourself for missing out on seeing his reaction.”

“I love you, Y/n.”

“I love you too, Shou.”

#shouto x reader #shouto todoroki x reader #todoroki x reader #writing?

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potatocrab · 5 years ago

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Salvation is a Last Minute Business (15/18)

Chapter 15: The Liar’s Kiss That Says I Love You

A return to New England Medical Center finds Madelyn struggling with who she can trust. She and Deacon have a long conversation about the power of truth and lies, and she learns one more of his closely guarded secrets. At a Railroad safehouse, the two reminisce on their first operation and realize they may have fallen into a cliché after all.

“Kiss me, Mike. I want you to kiss me. The liar’s kiss that says I love you and means something else.” - Lily Carver as played by Gaby Rodgers (Kiss Me Deadly, 1955)

x-x

This chapter contains mild/not-so-mild sexual content. Proceed at your own desire! When you see the French language being used, you have reached the point of no return!

Major thanks to @glowstickia for her help on the French resources. :)

[read on Ao3] | [chapter masterpost]

May 30th, 1958

Madelyn had hoped she wouldn’t have a reason to visit the New England Medical Center so soon, memories of Nick’s hospitalization and near-death experience at the hands of Eddie Winter fresh in her mind. Yet there she was, struggling to ignore the sympathetic glances from the familiar faces of doctors and nurses as they patched up her arm and provided her with a tetanus shot—undoubtedly more painful than her injury, at least without the surge of adrenaline to dull her senses. Who would have guessed that a needle could hurt worse than a bullet?

The same medical staff allowed her to stay with Drummer Boy in his assigned recovery room, despite the fact she was of no relation. It was likely out of pity for all they had seen her experience in recent months. Between everything that had happened to her and Nick when they went after Eddie Winter in April, Jenny’s death when the hospital was ambushed thereafter, and now an attempted assassination at her own apartment—Madelyn was starting to think her luck—if she had any to begin with—was running out.

By the grace of God—or maybe Drummer Boy’s perfect timing—she’d escaped relatively unharmed. He wasn’t so fortunate, but the commotion of the shooting hadn’t gone unnoticed in her Cambridge neighborhood. When the Boston Police arrived, she was initially surprised to see Sergeant Sullivan, but considering he was the last trustworthy cop left in the city, she was grateful for his presence. He ensured that she and Drummer Boy got to the New England Medical Center in a timely manner while his task force secured the area. Madelyn wasn’t completely comfortable with the idea of strange men lurking about her apartment, but she had little choice but to agree.

In the quiet of Drummer Boy’s room, she finally had a chance to process what had occurred and how close she had come to death—again. An unknown assailant dared to attack Madelyn in her own home, where she was most vulnerable. The list of suspects in her mind narrowed down to one as she thought about the agency’s infiltration of Fort Hagen, and the smuggled documents on Kellogg. While there hadn’t been any sightings of him since the late 40s, his vanishing act did little to ease anyone’s mind. The proof was in the casefile—Kellogg had a way of finding the people he deemed unfit for life. It made sense that he’d come for her, especially if he really was an agent of the Institute—they were likely to have their own list of reasons for wanting her dead.

An unsettling notion entered her mind as she thought about the man who had stalked her and Deacon before and again at the Cambridge campus on the day of the demonstration. What if it was him who had attempted to kill her, and not Kellogg as she assumed? What if it was a random android, set up in a building across the street, programmed to shoot into her apartment window at a specific time? Worse yet, what if the would-be assassin was just another one of the Institute’s experiments? Just another name, another face to get lost in the crowd—just as Piper feared. That meant nobody was beyond suspicion, not when it was still unknown just how long the Institute had been performing these so-called brain augmentations—if they were even behind the attack in the first place.

Madelyn clasped Drummer Boy’s hand tight as the paranoia and anxiety settled in. She couldn’t live like that—constantly looking over her shoulder—living in fear. She couldn’t go through life wondering who was or wasn’t worthy of her trust. Not when she’d finally gained back her sense of security—her sense of sanity—her sense of self. After Nate’s death, after Eddie Winter, after everything—the last thing she wanted was to fall back into the endless spiral of despair.

You can’t trust everyone.

The words echoed in her mind like so many times before, her chest tightening under the painful realization of how true they were. Madelyn closed her eyes the moment tears clouded her vision, clenching her jaw so tight she feared her teeth might chip. Anything to prevent herself from crying. It didn’t matter that she was (mostly) alone—she was so exhausted from so many nights of crying. Perhaps it was her concentration that made it difficult to hear the echoing footsteps in the hallway or the soft knock. It wasn’t until the door began to creak open that she reacted, recoiling in a way that she nearly fell out of her chair.

“Charmer?”

“Deacon?”

Madelyn breathed out his name, relieved it was him and not anyone else. While the doctors and nurses provided some comfort, it paled in comparison to the intimacy they shared. Still undefined, still unspoken—but undeniably close.

He hesitated, quietly closing the door behind him as he observed her, eyebrows raised high above the frame of his darkened shades. For as stoic and pensive as she’d seen him be in the past, especially when reacting to various tragedies and disastrous events, he appeared to be faltering now. It was always difficult to fully discern his emotions when half his face was obscured, but he looked curious, if not concerned. His silence indicated he was likely worried too, but Deacon would never say it outright.

Madelyn’s pulse gradually settled, but she had a difficult time fully relaxing under his watchful gaze. In that moment, with her willpower drained, she looked away. She focused on Drummer Boy’s steady breathing, brushing the pad of her thumb across his wrist and hospital band.

“Danny—Sullivan,” Deacon corrected himself, slowly moving to stand near the end of the hospital bed. “He tracked me and Valentine down, took us back to your apartment.”

“I know,” she responded, barely above a whisper. “I had him do so.”

“Ol’ Nick took a lot of convincing to stay behind,” he explained, setting down the canvas bag and glass Tupperware he carried on the small table. “But he didn’t want to leave those cops unsupervised. Even if they’re Sullivan’s men—”

You can’t trust everyone—he didn’t have to say it.

“It figures,” she sighed, closing her eyes again. “Probably looked like somebody died, huh?”

Deacon remained silent, though she could hear him, feel him, approaching. Soon enough, he was standing at her side, causing a tingle to run up her spine—an unexplainable feeling—but her skin suddenly ached for the simplest form of touch. As if he could read her mind (and she wouldn’t be surprised if he could), he rested his hand over hers and Drummer Boy’s. Madelyn immediately snapped open her eyes with a sharp inhale of air, momentarily stunned by the contact.

She needed more.

In an instant she was standing, clinging to him with her arms wrapped tight around his shoulders as she pressed up on her toes, tired feet and aching shoulder be damned. Deacon was quick to return the embrace, holding her close as he kept his arms snug around her torso. Madelyn stayed there, face pressed against the soft wool of his coat—she wanted to tease him for wearing it so near to summer but now she was grateful for the comfort it provided. She didn’t cry, despite the fact that she wanted to, and probably needed to as well. Bristling with quiet desperation, the only thing Madelyn was sure of was that she didn’t want to be alone.

“I just—” she started after a long stretch of silence. “I’d like to go home.”

Deacon gradually pulled her away, easing her back so her heeled feet were level with the ground. He swept back a few errant curls behind her ear, fingers lingering along the curve of her cheek. At first, she thought he might kiss her, but he skewed his lips to the side instead. “No can do, Charmer.”

Madelyn sighed—she knew that, but it was worth a try. Her eyes danced over to the belongings on the table. Deacon sensed her curiosity.

“Codsworth insisted I bring you something to eat,” he explained, nodding his chin towards the glass container.

“Better left for Drummer Boy. I’m told hospital food tastes of despair,” she flashed a meek smile. “And the bag?”

“Some clothes for you,” he said. “Any chance to rifle through your naughty drawer.”

If it were anybody else, she wouldn’t have appreciated such an ill-timed joke. Deacon’s smirk relaxed into a gentler expression, his thumb tracing down the angle of her chin towards her mouth. “Let’s get you someplace safe.”

There was a hidden meaning to his words that had Madelyn equal parts excited and trembling with anxiety. He wanted her safe, but also alone—all to himself. They’d kissed, crossed that barrier two weeks prior. But whatever was to come next was to be determined, put on hold, as their focus quickly became centered on finding Kellogg and infiltrating the Institute. Romance could wait—or maybe it couldn’t.

What was she so afraid of?

Finally, she spoke. “Do you trust me?”

“You’ve asked that before,” he responded in a low, contemplative voice.

He was right—Madelyn had poised the question on more than one occasion. And the last time, just as before, he hadn’t given a straight answer. It was always easy enough for her to assume and take his presence for granted. But now more than ever, she needed honesty—if it was even possible. She wanted nothing more than to be engulfed in the flame they’d ignited, but she’d sooner snuff out the fire if he couldn’t give her this one answer.

“I know that lying is your profession. That you’d sooner court death than the truth,” she paused, reluctantly leaning away from his touch, noting the glimmer of disappointment in his features. “Against better judgement, I trust you.”

“But I need to know that you feel the same—that you trust me,” Madelyn expressed, doing her best not to sound like she was pleading. “Not just as your partner in the Railroad, but—”

She broke off, grasping his hand as part of her silent allusion. There was a subtlety to his reaction, but enough of one that told her he understood the inference. Deacon said nothing, eyebrows firmly creased together as he considered her words. The silence dragged on enough that she felt foolish for saying anything in the first place. She tried not to feel overly disappointed or react in a disproportionate way—the last thing Madelyn wanted was an argument.

“There’s an imbalance,” she mumbled, unsure of her train of thought. “You know so much about me, a fault of my own—Nick always said I wore my heart on my sleeve—” She was definitely rambling. Blame it on her grief—she couldn’t stop. “But you are and always have been an enigma, Deacon. Your face, your hair…hell, your real age,” her eyes darted over his face as her heart raced loud enough she could hear it echoing in her skull. “Your name.”

His reaction wasn’t subtle that time. Deacon pulled away, and Madelyn feared she’d crossed a line and offended him. But he didn’t storm out of the room—rather, he dug through his coat and jacket pockets, muttering something incoherent under his breath until he pulled free a leather billfold with a triumphant sort of grin. He placed it in her hands as if she’d asked for it.

“Go on,” he encouraged with a sideways smirk.

Madelyn didn’t move an inch, only taking a quick glance at the wallet before meeting his face again. “What—”

“You could’ve lifted that off of me at any time,” he interrupted, gesturing to the faded black material. “Looked at my ID and taken some money while you’re at it. All in a day’s work for a spy.”

She frowned—it seemed honesty for him was as bad as pulling teeth. Her legal studies were easier than this. Madelyn decided to call his bluff, turning over the billfold in her hand. “A spy like you would obviously carry more than one identification.”

“Obviously,” he agreed with a nod. “But one of them is bound to be legitimate. Even a no-good scoundrel like me needs a clean copy for official reasons—never know when you’re going to end up in a pickle or interrogated by some charming blonde.”

Madelyn, understandably, had doubts as her irritation lingered. Even if she wanted to take a look, could she really open what was akin to opening Pandora’s box? Did she really want to know? What if this was just another elaborate trick? Deacon titled his head just enough that she caught a glimpse of his eyes in the low light of the room. He was serious now, all trace of humor erased from his expression.

“I trust you.”

A shockwave rippled through her body causing a deep warmth to radiate in her chest. He might as well have told her—

Madelyn blinked hard, shaking the idea from her mind. One step at a time. Trust. He slowly circled around her to be closer to Drummer Boy’s bedside, and she turned to watch his movements, still hesitating to flip open the leather billfold. Deacon leaned over the hospital bed, as if to verify the agent wasn’t secretly awake and eavesdropping on their conversation. She sat back down in the nearby chair before giving into her curiosity.

She wasn’t sure what a typical man’s wallet was supposed to contain, but Deacon’s was full of various cards and trinkets—paper receipts and scribbled notes, raffle tickets of undetermined origin. Just as she predicted, and he admitted to, there were multiple state identification cards. Many were for Massachusetts, but there was one for Virginia, and one for Washington D.C.—unsurprisingly with the obviously fake name of George Washington.

Madelyn flicked through the paper cards, finding humor in some of the clever names and disguises—Horatio Williams from Worcester County, Simon Rock from Plymouth, Guy Granger from Richmond, and Harry Morgan from Nantucket. It wasn’t until she settled on a well-faded card that she gave pause. The Deacon in the black-and-white picture was recognizable, but only because she’d seen him without his usual pompadour wig and sunglasses. The full name wasn’t visible, worn from many years of handling but she saw enough of the bold lettering—Johnathan Daniel. She knew immediately it wasn’t a fake.

“Old testament,” she muttered, half-jokingly, under her breath. At least he hadn’t lied about his Catholic upbringing. Madelyn looked up to find him whispering—praying—as he gently held onto Drummer Boy’s arm, his other hand resting against the other man’s shoulder. The sight was unexpected, to say the least, and gave her insight that perhaps their relationship stretched beyond the Railroad too.

“Drummer Boy—Robby,” she corrected herself. “He wasn’t lying when he said John D formed the Railroad.”

Deacon shrugged, glancing at her over his shoulder, as if he expected her to say that. “He wasn’t,” he confirmed, plainly. He didn’t even ask when, or why Drummer Boy told her such information. “John D didn’t do it alone.”

“No,” Madelyn knew the history, thanks to the stories and a little digging of her own. “But Wyatt isn’t around anymore, now is he?”

“He isn’t.”

“And John D?” she asked tentatively.

Deacon grinned, if only for a fleeting moment. “He’s around.”

It was confirmation enough, and Madelyn decided not to pry for a straight answer—she’d gotten plenty from him already when he confirmed his trust. Now was not the time to cross boundaries, even as more unanswered questions rattled through her mind. With a deep and steadying breath, she allowed herself to become content with the knowledge that she was one of the lucky few—if not the only one—who knew this truth.

The silence was interrupted by a soft grumbling as Drummer Boy gradually regained consciousness. Madelyn abruptly stood, dropping Deacon’s wallet into the chair and rushing to the bedside to ensure he was okay. It took several moments for him to blink the exhaustion from his eyes, and he cleared his throat a few times before relaxing against the pillows again. The Railroad agent lazily glanced up at the two, flashing Madelyn a groggy smile. When Drummer Boy looked at Deacon, his face scrunched up, stuck between a frown and a glare.

“You still owe me,” he mumbled, causing Deacon to softly laugh. “Two dollars.”

The moon still hung high in the sky by the time Madelyn and Deacon left the New England Medical Center, though she wasn’t entirely sure of how much time had passed since she first left the agency, visited Nate’s grave, and returned to her apartment, only to be shot at by an unknown assailant—it had been a long day. All she knew was that her body ached, and that she was desperate for sleep.

After a short taxi ride into the Fens district, Deacon navigated the two through a nondescript area. She lacked the energy to comment on allowing handsome men to lead her into strange alleyways, but the amusement still brought a smile to her face. Outside an old, brick apartment building she noticed two Railroad insignias itched into the wall—one for safehouse, and another for ally.

“Mercer?” she assumed.

He nodded, escorting her inside the building. “Home sweet home.”

Unlike her Cambridge apartment, the elevators there were in working order. Madelyn couldn’t help but yawn as she leaned against Deacon’s shoulder, hoping the safehouse had an ample supply of pillows. He slowly guided her drowsy form down the hallway to the correct door, propping her under his arm as he fished through his pockets for his keys.

“Do you want me to carry you over the threshold?” he teased as soon as he pushed the door open.

Madelyn snickered, and snagged the bag of her belongings from his arm. “Haven’t you learned by now I’m a capable woman?”

He laughed, allowing her to enter ahead of him into the apartment. It was just about the same size as hers, with a mirrored layout and less furniture. Seeing as it was meant as a halfway-house for weary and temporary travelers, it made sense that it wouldn’t feel as lived in. There was a couch, a record player, and a small bookshelf with an assortment of books. The kitchen was modest as well—a small island bar with a few leftover coffee cups and newspapers, as well as a cardboard box from the nearby pizzeria.

Madelyn followed the pathway of the hallway to the bathroom, glancing over her shoulder to find Deacon loitering by the refrigerator. As soon as she was alone in the tiny, tiled room, she took several moments to examine herself in the mirror. It wasn’t nearly as bad as the last time she found herself covered in blood—a macabre thought—the hospital staff had done a decent job at cleaning washing away the evidence from her skin. But there she was with another ruined dress, stained and torn from where the bullet had grazed her shoulder.

She thought to check her wedding ring for streaks of red when she realized she wasn’t even wearing it. A flicker of guilt washed over her as she remembered she’d removed it before the undercover operation at Fort Hagen. Maybe she should be relieved it was still safe and sound at her apartment—not like Deacon would’ve snagged it off her jewelry stand. Madelyn decided to look through the bag to see what he did grab. There were two dresses and stockings that complimented her current pair of heels, and she was grateful that they were appropriate for the May weather. Tucked beneath that was one of her silk nightgowns and matching robes, along with some undergarments. Rather than feel embarrassed, she could only sigh, appreciative that she had something comfortable to change into.

She quickly kicked off her heels, leaving them at the foot of the sink as she removed the rest of her clothes. She draped her discarded dress and stockings over the shower curtain rod before slipping on the pale blue nightgown, securing the robe around her body with a tight knot. She wiggled her toes against the cool floor and sighed. With one last glance in the mirror to ensure she hadn’t missed an errant mark of blood, she flicked off the light and left the bathroom.

In the kitchen, Deacon was preparing two glasses of whiskey as he stood by the island bar, pausing in his actions to watch her slow approach. “Well now I feel overdressed.”

Ironic, considering she’d never seen him so relaxed. He had discarded his wool coat and suit jacket, left hanging over the back of the living couch. Even his shoes were missing, and a cursory scan of the room didn’t give her any indication of where he’d placed them. Madelyn could only mimic his expression.

“You’re the one who packed my bag,” she replied. “I sense sabotage is at play.”

Deacon mocked offense. “I’d never.”

“Before you take the bed and resign me to the couch,” he continued, gaining her attention. He gestured to the freshly poured drinks and the pizza box. “I made a promise to a very pushy Mister Handy unit that you’d be fed, and I’m one to keep promises. Even if they are to robots with British accents.”

Madelyn laughed, imaging Codsworth’s worrying pestering. When her stomach growled, she decided that as tired as she was, sleep could wait. Deacon pulled out the barstool for her so she could sit before occupying the set next to her, sliding her the glass tumbler of whiskey and cardboard box of leftovers. She’d had worse meals but in that moment, cold pizza and alcohol was like heaven. Still, she could sense Deacon watching her carefully from the corner of her eye, and she sighed into her glass.

“I don’t want to talk about what happened,” she explained, nervously meeting his shielded gaze. “Not now, not when I’ll just have to repeat it all over again when we meet with the others in the morning or—” she glanced to the clock hanging on the wall and groaned. “In a few hours.”

Deacon didn’t push. “Whatever you need, Charmer.”

“How does the line go?” he mused. “You know how to whistle…”

“I thought I was Bacall,” Madelyn joked mid-chew. “Mr. Bogart.”

She hadn’t forgotten that conversation from their first meeting, a flirtatious tease of falling in love like two Hollywood starlets in the latest noir film. Madelyn would’ve never guessed that all these months later, it had played out exactly as predicted. She smiled, and so did he.

“Looks like we fell into the cliché after all,” she whispered, eyes darting across his face, lingering on his mouth. “What do you think?”

Deacon finished off his whiskey with a slow sip before answering. “Tu as de beaux yeux tu sais.”

Madelyn was momentarily taken aback, suddenly wishing she’d taken French as a foreign language in school instead of Gaelic—all her Irish relatives were deceased anyways, what was the point? Was Deacon deflecting again? Something about his tone and the way he turned towards her said otherwise. He used his legs to scoot her barstool closer to him, the movement causing her to lean forward and brace her palms flat against his chest so she wouldn’t smash her forehead against his nose. His hands came to rest on her waist as he gradually eased her closer.

“Si je te disais que tu avais un beau corps, tu m’en tiendrais rigueur?”

A question whispered against the shell of her ear that sent her heart racing, mind going blank as she only thought about Deacon’s heated breath along the column of her throat. Madelyn allowed herself to edge nearer to his body still until she was practically straddling his thigh, teetering on the edge of her chair, arms loosely wrapped around his shoulders.

He continued murmuring what she assumed were sweet-nothings against her skin—though they could be nonsense and she’d still be melting in his hands. “On devrait t'arrêter pour excès de beauté sur la voie publique.”

“Est-ce que tu fais partie du menu?”

What about a menu? She pondered if what he was telling her bordered on filth, but the idea only excited her. Madelyn sharply inhaled, angling her neck to give him greater access despite the fact his lips hadn’t made direct contact with her skin. When he finally reached her mouth, he paused, one hand reaching up to hold the side of her face steady.

“Dis moi ce que tu veux,” he said. After a beat, he repeated himself, this time so she could understand. “Tell me what you want.”

Madelyn didn’t hesitate to move her hands to his face, fingers wrapping around the metal frame of his glasses before gently removing them, setting them down on the kitchen counter. She held his face with her palms, taking a long moment to stare deep into his steely blue eyes. It had been more than a month since she’d seen them like this, and yet it felt like she was seeing them for the first time—brilliant, vibrant and beautiful.

“You,” she breathed the answer, the most honest she’d felt in years. “Deacon, I want you.”

There was a glimmer to his eyes she couldn’t place as he briefly smirked before wordlessly closing the distance between them with a slow, but needy kiss. It didn’t take long at all for it to grow heated, the hand on her waist silently encouraging her to scoot closer until she was fully seated across his lap, knees on either side of his thighs. Deacon balanced her against him as they hungrily kissed, a groan echoing in his throat as she frantically pushed the suspenders from his shoulders before moving her fingers to undo the buttons of his shirt. It seemed that now that the damn was broken, Madelyn couldn’t wait for the rush—patience be damned.

He matched her fervor, one hand darting to the silken knot at her waist and blinding tugging until he broke away from their kiss to glare down at the confusing tangle. With a curse he pulled open her robe and she shrugged it from her body, softly moaning as his lips instantly collided with the outline of her collarbone before the garment reached the floor. As Deacon kissed a trail along her skin, Madelyn threaded her hands through his hair, breathing a laugh when she remembered it was a wig. He didn’t seem to mind as she removed it—too preoccupied with leaving patterns on her neck—exposing the ginger locks she admired. Just as she returned to run her fingers through those soft waves, he leaned back out of reach. She didn’t have time to be confused as he hoisted her into his arms as he stood, holding her as if she weighed nothing.

Madelyn gasped and still clutched his arms in the fear that she’d be dropped. At first, she assumed he would carry her to the couch, or the bedroom, but he simply placed her on the island bar instead. With a sweep of his arm, he pushed away the clutter to make room for her body, thrilling her to the core. She watched as Deacon peeled off his dress shirt, moving her hands to his belt on the assumption—and perhaps eagerly—that they were to make love right there. He covered her hands with his own, stopping her with a soft chuckle, but it wasn’t meant to taunt her.

“Lie back,” he instructed, voice laced with desire.

Madelyn complied, swallowing down the last traces of anxiety as she eased back onto her elbows. She was so entranced by his actions that she almost forgot to breathe, eyes locked onto his face as his gaze raked over her body and the length of her legs. Deacon’s hands were soft as they traced up from her ankles to her calves and eventually to her thighs, gradually spreading apart her knees to make enough space for his body. Those striking eyes of his found hers as his hands trailed further, past the lace trim of her nightgown until heated fingers traced the outline of her underwear. Those same deft fingers pulled away the fabric just enough so he could touch, an agonizing drag along her already dampened folds. It was enough for Madelyn to completely collapse against the cold tile of the counter, tossing her head back as she moaned loudly. Just how touch starved had she been?

“Don’t close your eyes,” Deacon said, and she desperately fought to snap them open as he continued, and then stopped.

She whimpered, almost against her own volition. He was already gradually sliding her underwear down her legs until they slipped off and to the floor. Instead of his hands, it was his mouth that followed the trail up her legs, and Madelyn was sure her heart was going to burst right out her chest. It didn’t take a detective to know what he was planning, and the pure eroticism of it all—splayed out on a kitchen counter—made her skin prickle with arousal.

Deacon pushed up the silken fabric of her nightgown before hooking one knee around his shoulder, spreading her other thigh out so that his hand could easily trace along her skin. His fingers found her wet heat again, far from teasing as he probed her entrance, eliciting loader groans from her. Just as he found a steady rhythm, he replaced his hand with his mouth, and Madelyn could feel her stomach coiling at the sensation already. She was writhing, uncaring how unhinged she appeared, completely lost to the passion he was inflicting upon her. It was only fitting that the man who was so gifted at intrigue would be this talented with his mouth—Deacon was through, relentless.

Madelyn’s mind was a haze, and she couldn’t hear anything besides her own rapid pulse and intense breathing. No doubt she was chanting his name like a prayer, whispering quiet praises and pleadings that he wouldn’t stop because—oh God—she was so close, and—Jesus—she hadn’t felt so alive in years. There was more blasphemy and curses, and she was sure she was going to hell—maybe it was worth it—if this was what sin felt like.

When she came, it was blinding, and her entire body trembled uncontrollably as Deacon’s hands moved to cradle her, mouth unmoving from her core until she was spent. Madelyn still took several minutes to regain her bearings, staring up at the ceiling in delirious wonder.

“Deacon?” she titled her head to find him resting against the counter, arms draped across her body as his hands rubbed slowly up and down her sides. He glanced up at her with a lazy, self-satisfied sort of smile, and she decided he deserved it.

“I’m here,” he answered.

She softly laughed. “I’d like you to carry me now.”

Deacon was slow to move but eventually leaned back, grasping her hands to help her gradually sit up straight. He hooked one arm under her knees, the other around her torso and gave her a sideways glance so she’d hold onto his shoulder for balance. Madelyn again found herself amused at how easy he made it seem, pausing on his way out of the kitchen to turn off the front room lights. They made their way towards the bedroom in the darkness, though Deacon didn’t appear perturbed, as if he had every inch of the place memorized by touch.

Compared to the rest of the apartment, the bedroom filled more belongings and looked like it had a regular visitor. There were more books scattered there than in the front room, and several bags of clothes that had been diligently organized. Madelyn didn’t have to ask to know the regular tenant was Deacon. The shades of the window were open, allowing the light of the moon to cast a soft light of white into the room and across the unmade bed. He placed her there, and she stared up at him with curious eyes as he seemed to hesitate for the first time that evening as he slowly unbuckled his belt, sliding down his pants when there was enough slack.

“We can stop, if you want,” Deacon suggested. “The bed is yours. Couch is more comfortable than it looks.”

Madelyn was surprised, and while she appreciated the gesture, she’d expressed her desires. “No.”

“Thought you might say that,” he smirked. He removed his undershirt and tossed it to the floor before sitting on the edge of the mattress, reaching down to pluck the socks off his feet.

When he turned to her, Madelyn was struck by the man she saw in the glow of the moonlight, practically a stranger and yet somebody she trusted her entire life with. Against common sense she’d gone and fallen in love with a beautiful mystery of a man, and nothing thrilled her more. She sat up to meet his advances, kissing him desperately as he worked to lift her nightdress up and off her body.

Madelyn removed her own bra, uncaring if he could do it just as quickly. At this rate, she just wanted to be naked and beneath him as soon as possible. Deacon must’ve found the action amusing, softly laughing against her mouth as he broke away from their kiss to lift off from the bed to discard his briefs. She took the opportunity to lean back against the pillows, pushing back the sudden realization that she was about to have sex for the first time in years—the first time since—

No, she reminded herself, closing her eyes tight. There was no time for that kind of guilt, or for those kinds of memories to permeate this space. With a steadying breath, she blinked open her eyes to find Deacon perched over her, the warmth of his body causing her earlier excitement to spike anew. He lowered himself closer, and she let out a shudder at the feel of his hardened arousal at the junction of her thighs.

“Je t’adore,” he whispered against her ear.

Madelyn turned her head so that she could look at him, lock eyes—blue on blue. She wrapped one leg around his, silently encouraging him as she hooked her arms around his shoulders. “Deacon, please.”

That’s all it took for him to slowly sink into her, the air stolen from her lungs as he became fully seated within her. Deacon moved slow in those initial moments, almost agonizingly so, staying close to her body as he steadily rolled his hips against hers. It wasn’t until she let out a strangled moan and grasped the hair along his scalp that he dared to increase his speed, fully retreating with each thrust before pushing back in. There were more hushed, incoherent and foreign words exchanged, more silent prayers and whispered names against mouths between hungry kisses.

Eventually he leaned back onto his haunches and the angle created a delightful increase to her pleasure and judging by the way Deacon panted and struggled to keep his groans contained, he felt the same. Madelyn felt admired under his gaze, her skin aflame as his blown pupils darted across her naked flesh, fingers digging tightly into her hips as he gradually lost control of his thrusts. She’d been so caught up in her own past that she hardly considered—or remembered—that it had possibly been a long time for him as well.

“Come here,” she beckoned him back to her arms and he practically collapsed against her, their limbs tangling together as they lost themselves to each other.

It didn’t take more than one, two—three punctual thrusts for Madelyn to snap, crying out as she came with a trembling force. Deacon followed shortly thereafter, clinging tightly to her as he snapped his hips tightly to her with a guttural groan. The two stayed coiled together for the next several moments until the spasms passed, Deacon pulling away with a deep exhale as he withdrew to collapse at her side.

Neither said a word as they came down from their individual highs of ecstasy, the room slowly growing quiet as their breathing returned to normal. Madelyn was the first to roll onto her side to face him, and for all that they had shared in the past and just now, she felt strangely bashful. Deacon was already gazing at her with an expression she couldn’t place, the moonlight twinkling in his eyes. Still, the two remained quiet, only regarding each other with similar smiles. He silently urged her to snuggle close against his chest, wrapping their still warm bodies in a thin sheet.

Madelyn still wasn’t sure what the nature of their relationship was, but that was a conversation for another day. She wasn’t about to ruin the moment with a potentially tremulous conversation—not everything needed to be talked through, not everything needed an immediate answer. It was well enough to just be happy in the moment. And despite all the other worries in her life—God—was she happy. She could feel sleep finally calling her into the darkness.

Before she succumbed, she smiled, content to be wrapped up in his arms. “Goodnight, Deacon.”

She convinced herself she was dreaming when he responded minutes, or maybe hours later.

“Goodnight, Madelyn.”

#fallout 4 #noir au #deacon x f!solesurvivor #deacon #madelyn hardy #drummer boy #👀👀👀#the slow burn reaches it's burning point y'all #there's another monty python quote in here but it's a multilingual one jfc #escesive use of the french language

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cloakedinfall-a · 4 years ago

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aesthetics for the entities bold what applies to your muse, italics what applies situationally or only in certain verses. this is based on a horror podcast; potentially triggering and / or upsetting content ahead!

i. the buried. weighed blankets. drowning. the comfort of a loved one’s weight. soil and sand piling on top of you. hugging so hard it hurts a little. cramped hiding spots. letting out air underwater to sink to the bottom of the pool. walls pressing in on you. not moving from a position even though you’re cramping a little. dragging the last second before you have to inhale. lonely subways. feeling like one with the earth. a layer of dirt on you. looking for something below. cardboard boxes and tiny pillow forts. hands calloused from digging. knowing that your purpose is just below the surface. entering your final resting place before it kills you. a storm drowning you out. dust and sand speaking to you.

ii. the corruption. insects. a close imitation of the natural course of life. an illness in a community. a rag that dirties more than it cleans. an untreated wound. containment. breaching containment. unbreathable air. fungi. one with that you love. one with what loves you. a corpse unfit for a glass case. hearing a song in the sound of tiny wings and legs. honeycomb patterns. an ecosystem within a person. a curse passed on. the hubris of a scientist. an ugly death where a glorious one is owed. blood on a handkerchief. parasites. something pushing up the sewer. a mask to keep something out. trypophobia. knowing you belong. death weeks after impact. fever. food that’s gone off. pandora’s box. death behind a glass.

iii. the dark. shadows. lights that turn off by themselves. the feel of cold marble. a beaked creature in the night. the difference between seeing darkness and seeing nothing. touch of something you can’t see. hiding under a blanket. white, clouded eyes. months without going outside during sunlight. pouring dark. unscrewing lightbulbs. black matter. light sensitivity. a starless night. time before light was created. a shadow on the wall without a body to attach to. withering plants. a world without a sun. footfalls in an empty house in the night. a light that doesn’t reach as far as it should. desperate reach for a flashlight. clothes that hide your shape. staying unperceivable. winter months in the north. an empty church.

v. the flesh. body horror. factories. a hunger for something more filling. never quite happy with how you look. the terror of an animal waiitng for slaughter. a very good meal. the liquid of a perfect steak. fighting your worst survival instincts. a twisted bone. long nights working out. more than one heart. appearance that shapes like clay. a bag of bones. bone broth in a pot. knowing to fear pigs. the butcher’s shop. plastic surgery. something alien inside your body. a hunger in the gaze laid upon you. unwitting cannibalism. forgetting what you used to look like. being admired for your appearance and appearance only. teeth marks on skin. scars from wounds that should’ve killed you. cooking in scarcity. fenced in with one way to go.

iv. the desolation. senseless pain. warmth of faith. wax where skin should be. a blazing fire. heat without a source. the third or fourth tragedy in the family. losing everything you’ve ever held dear. so much to live for, gone so soon. the smell of gasoline. touch that scars. coffee cup that never goes cold. scorch marks on wood. inescapably warm air. a child born in fire. death of a loved one. a candle without a flame. an altar in the middle of the woods. animals with burnt fur. plastic explosives. burning hot metal. sweating in an interrogation room. never touching a loved one. disfigurement. a kiss that ruins you. the scent of burning fat. a tattoo that terrifies its viewer. the agony of hellfire displayed as art. auburn hair. little clothing in cold weather. a ripple in the air. trying to cool down in vain.

vi. the end. the last page of a book. nightmares that don’t feel like nightmares. a skeletal hand. the grip of the grim reaper around your throat. existential pain. ivory dice. flatlining in a hospital. gambiling with death. as old as the universe. soul and spirit tied to an object. a dream where you die. closing your eyes for the last time. the plead of a dying one. knowing the fate of someone you know and being unable to prevent it. a thousand cords tugging you towards your end. skin that’s freezing to the touch. an act of desperation. someone’s life for yours. an eternity spent alive. the cost of your selfishness. watching your own burial. causing your own burial. the smell of death. numbness to fear. words from someone gone. meaninglessness of the actions or lives of single people in the universe. multiple near-death experiences you refuse to die from.

viii. the hunt. sharp canines. sore calves after a run. the scent of blood. an adventure for the journey’s sake. the adrenaline right before the kill. a whistle’s echo. the woods. the doe eyes of a prey animal. your own breath in the air. sharpened claws. being tracked. fear of someone knowing your every movement. hunting down monsters. hide and seek. running away only to end up where you started. staying alive purely because the enemy enjoys seeing you run. a set of footsteps behind you. blood dripping from bare hands. barks and growls. focused eyes. a victim going limp under your hands. a mouth full of fresh blood. catching the scent of something monstorous. perfecting your craft. peering into the dark and running after it.

vii. the eye. googling something you shouldn’t have. eureka moments. the unforgiving lens of a camera. witness reports. hidden libraries. eyes of different colours. feeling of being watched. a death recorded in tape. a tragedy you can’t watch away from. endangering yourself for knowledge. truth. analog records. a symbol of an eye. a watch tower. compulsion to document. turning on recording devices without thinking about it. saving the evidence before the person. extracting information. truth or dare, without the dare. a thirst for knowledge. books that speak to you. coordinated shelves. cataloguing systems. voyerism. police report you can’t put down. reasoning your way out. smell of old papers. books that read you back.

ix. the lonely. an apartment too small for a double bed. completely vacant streets. waking up to see everyone gone. fog. point nemo. a house too big to hear your family members in. alone in a faceless crowd. a mask with nothing behind it. separated cubicles. a deafening silence where joy should be. a blinding spotlight. the least missed in your friend group. streets without lights in the windows. isolation. not truly knowing your friends. your friends not truly knowing you. need for silence. fear of crowds. staring into space knowing nothing is looking back at you. a ship alone at sea. depression. knowing your friends are better off without you. talking to someone only to realise they’re gone. a family too large to notice you there. safety in being alone.

x. the slaughter. a game of tag. senseless violence. a true crime hobby. improvised weapons. blinding rage. intent to kill. a horrific day in a quiet community. a medal of bravery. holding on to what validates your anger. history books that spare no details. an injury you want revenge for. war. counting kills. songs of soldiers. a knifeblock on the counter. a pool of blood. shellshock. unspeakable horrors. anger pushing you forward. unimaginable pain. not seeing who will hurt you but knowing the pain is coming. a fully human monster. an authority sending its lessers to their deaths. kill or be killed. unedited wartime memoirs. a weapons collection. not knowing the names of who you kill. too many to remember. loss of hope. there’s no heroes in war.

xi. the spiral. sleep deprivation. corridors you can get lost in. maze puzzles that loop back on themselves. losing possessions. losing people. losing your sanity. corkscew curls. rows of funhouse mirrors. optical illusions. a separate reality. walking through the wrong door. delusions. not knowing what your hands are doing. blank spaces in documents. hallusinations. wrong proportions. a nameless thing. a place that has never existed. doubting your own mind. blind faith. losing track of names, labels, categories. distorted sound. an imperfection in a glass that twists the view. loss of time. a garish colour. doors that open to nowhere. lies. an unnatural laugh. jokes and tricks. illusions. a doorway. a sculptor with a wild imagination. limbs in impossible angles. doing what’s fun, not what’s sensible. fractals you can get lost in.

xii. the stranger. wax figures. a close approximation of a human face. a borrowed appearance. a strange smell. glass eyes. furs and pelts. a dance. a song of a choir. the uncanny valley. stitching yourself together. the colours of a circus. a puppet with no strings. mannequins. glitter and sequin. a stranger you’ve always known. someone strange in the place of someone you knew. stolen identities. stolen skins. a machine imitating humanity. the anonymity of a service worker. hiding in plain sight. uncomfortable to look at. a faked accent. concealing. forgetting who you are. forgetting who others are. a replacement no one notices. images that look posed. the only one seeing the false face of someone.

xiv. the web. undecipherable code. a puppeteer holding the strings. power over the weak-willed. strings of fate. manipulation. an arranged accident. a hundred minions doing your bidding. cobwebs. spiders. a laid trap. never voicing discomfort. outwitting a cheater. doing things without realising it. red string across a corkboard. finding something lost where you were sure you checked. power over the unrealiability of chance. watching others dance for you. an entangled death. a thousand tiny legs and fangs. shady forum threads. something important gone missing. suspiciously disregarded case. a missing witness. connections. the world wide web. power of victimhood. gullibility. no control over your own decisions. an invisible leash. mass psychology. a horror film in the making. scapegoat. never remembering to ask for a name.

xiii. the vast. open spaces. carnival rides going up and down. fear of heights. endless infinity around you. your insignificance in an universe. stomach turning at a drop. fear of not the crash down but the moment you slip. the sway of a cable car. an adventure holiday. losing track of where the surface is. miles and miles of nothing around you. staring at the sky and feeling like you may fall into it. loss of control. a fall that doesn’t end in death. glass floor to the view below. terminal velocity. the sound of wind in your ears. a reach over the railing. a jump from the top of the building. falling into nothing. feeling your feet let go of the ground. a leap of faith. motion sickness.

TAGGED BY: stole it.

+ the extinction. the end of an era. apocalypse movies. the alarms of warning systems. a desolate landscape. end of the world cults. nihilism. the last written history. a changed world. no survivours. old prophecies. a thousand predicted ends. a new chapter. an end with no escape. catastrophes. a calendar counting down. breaking point. overindulgence.

TAGGING: @theaterism <any of them> @dcigrxtia @tragicblood @runnerkiller @pickdroses @fartemis-crock @rxdhairxdsirxns @nullcide @discipulusmaleficus @bustcdkneecaps <elias>

#veres~musings #/theater #/he might actually be vast holy fuck #bustcdkneecaps

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triggeringthehealing · 5 years ago

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Happy New Year

Derek/Stiles || PG || ~2k || AO3 Summary: Once upon a time, the loft was where Stiles was asked if he liked boys. Now, years later, he knows he does. A/N: Written for the @fullmoonficlet challenge - prompt #361: kiss

For the first time since that one blacklight party, the loft is filled with the sounds of electronica and more noise than it has heard in years. Stiles didn't even know that Derek still owned the building until he got the text message from Scott about the party that was planned in it for New Year's Eve this year.

They're all back, the whole pack, for the first time in years. Until now, every holiday there was someone missing, someone who couldn't make it back to Beacon Hills for some reason. Stiles himself only barely made it back while he was in college and then in FBI's training academy. Now that he's working, it's not easy to get time off either but since he's been assigned to the California office as a liaison for all things supernatural, it's been a little less complicated to visit his dad and meet up with everyone else.

The pack being what it is and scattered across the world as it is, they're all involved with the Bureau in one way or another -- Lydia consults at the HQ in DC, Scott's holding down the fort locally, Jackson and Ethan work with MI5 in London, even Isaac has helped a few times in France after Chris suggested him to Interpol. Stiles doesn't hear from Cora or Peter much but he knows that at least one of the Hales has their fingers in cases involving creatures of the night. He's not even trying to guess what Peter is up to though.

The younger pack members are not permanently in town anymore though they do visit more often. Kira's parents moved back to New York but she's nearby since her training with the Skinwalkers continues now, though no longer on a permanent basis now that she's better able to control her inner fox. Mason and Corey went to the east coast for college but Liam stayed home, following in Scott's footsteps into the veterinary career.

Tonight, they're all here though, along with friends they've made since on their varied paths. When Jackson and Ethan showed up with Danny in tow, Stiles refused to ask questions lest they prompt ones about his own father and the relationship that Stiles tries really hard not to pay attention to. The older generation is here tonight too, from the pack's parents to Jordan and even Coach who hasn't moved from Natalie Martin's side.

Stiles is still taking in in, though he's been here since early afternoon as everyone started arriving and the music started. The building is vibrating with the bass line and the lights are off, letting the UV paint glow on everyone's faces and bodies as they move to the rhythm. A lot of those who can be drunk are definitely getting to the limit of what they can handle -- not Stiles's dad or Melissa, who seem to be content to be the holders of keys and unofficial chaperones, not that this is a high school dance -- and those who don't feel the effects of alcohol are following the others' lead to keep the pretense.

There are enough strangers that the pack is keeping their supernatural side under wraps. Stiles figures that once it's a little past midnight, only those in the know will stay and the claws and fangs will be more likely to come out. Especially since the next full moon is not too far.

But there's one person Stiles has barely seen all night, even though it's his building and his loft. And they're all here with his permission, unlike during the previous party that happened here, the one that Stiles remembers all too clearly. This one is not likely to be interrupted by Oni, at least.

When he's had his fill of catching up with everyone and his eyes begin to blur from the strobe lights, Stiles decides that it's time to get away from it all. Instead of leaving altogether -- midnight is close and he figures at least some of the others will be looking for him then -- he heads for the balcony where he knows the glass will keep the noise away.

It takes him a moment to realize that he's not alone out there. He spots a dark figure leaning on the half wall on the far side of the balcony, looking out at the town's warehouse district, now rebuilt into an area filled with shops and office spaces, even some residential buildings. When he was driving to the loft earlier, it took Stiles a while to process how much this part of Beacon Hills has changed from the place he knew and how little resemblance it has to the derelict space where they've fought more fights than he can count.

"You hiding?" Stiles asks quietly, knowing he'll be heard.

Derek turns his head and light hits his face, revealing an amused expression.

"Just looking for quiet," he answers. "Guess that plan didn't go too well," he adds and the corner of his lips twitches.

"I can leave you be," Stiles says, though something in his chest twists uncomfortably at the thought of being unwanted, especially right here and now.

"No, don't," Derek tells him, a little faster than Stiles would have let himself hope. "I was kidding."

"Okay."

Stiles walks closer though he keeps his distance still, leaning on the balcony a few feet away from Derek and looking down over the edge.

"Looks different down there."

Derek hums in agreement, mirroring Stiles's position.

"So, how's the academy going?" Stiles asks a few moments later.

It's not that he can't deal with silence, he's learned to master it, especially in his work -- interrogation isn't always about rambling, he realized during his training -- but this one feels different. Loaded. Tense. Like there are words that want to be spoken, words that should have been said before. It doesn't feel wrong but it doesn't feel completely right either. And then, he's also genuinely curious about Derek's progress at the police academy because Stiles is still a little amazed that his father managed to pull the necessary strings and got Derek enrolled.

He's even more amazed that Derek agreed to going through the full training and becoming a fully trained and licensed officer.

"It's fine. Final tests are coming up in a few months and then I'll have to get some experience done," Derek answers easily, with no hesitation.

"Don't you already have hours clocked here?"

"Those count for some of it," Derek says. "But I'll need to do some work in a different station. Probably to prove that I'm not skating or being given favors."

"Ha. Like Dad would ever let anyone get away with that," Stiles replies, chuckling.

"You know that, I know that. Jordan knows that. But the rules are the rules and to get my badge I'll have to work elsewhere for a while," Derek says, his shoulders rising in a shrug.

"Got any ideas yet where you'll go?"

"Six months in Sacramento. Another six in Baltimore"

"Oh wow, do they hate you so much?"

Derek lets out a chuckle and shakes his head.

"Those were my choices, actually," he says as he turns to Stiles.

"Why there? I mean, I bet there were places that would have been easier. I get Sacramento, it's not too far, but Baltimore?"

"It's close to Quantico and DC."

Stiles's head turns before he can think about it and he stares at Derek, trying to read the expression in his face. It's not easy, there's light but it's not bright and even if it was, Derek's never been one to give away his thoughts or emotions. There's something there that Stiles knows he's not seeing, something he probably should know. Something that he maybe just doesn't want to think about, lest he lets his hopes rise up.

He wants to be at least part of the reason for Derek's choice. A moment of quick math in his mind tells him that the timing fits, he's in the California office for the upcoming year but he'll be back at HQ right about when Derek's in Baltimore. Not for all of those six months but most of them, as they're going to be working on a full department for investigations focused on the supernatural. Stiles has been talking about it with the pack for months now, excited about being given the lead on the projects even though it means mountains of paperwork.

"Derek."

The name slips from Stiles's lips easily but it's barely a whisper. It's a plea and a wish rolled into five letters, a question and an answer all in one.

"If you don't want me to be around, I can request New York," Derek says, his face flashing with what Stiles can only see as disappointment.

Stiles doesn't hesitate. Doesn't let himself think about a response because there's only one.

"I do," he blurts out. "I mean, if that's what you want, I definitely do want you to be there."

"For the job?"

Now, Stiles pauses. Then he takes a breath and lets his thoughts flow right to his lips.

"I won't lie, you have connections that anyone in the Bureau can only dream about. Only Deaton's better linked to the side of the world that we'll need to reach," Stiles says but he doesn't give Derek a chance to look any more disappointed before he continues. "But that's not the main reason. Not why I'd want you to be in the area. As long as it's not permanent because I will be coming back to this side of the country once the department is up and running."

"Your father said that if Jordan's in office by the time I'm ready, he's under strict orders to give me a job," Derek says, grinning. "I have no doubt that I'll have a position here whenever."

"Good. Because I hated being across the country."

"From here?"

There's something in Derek's face now that Stiles allows himself to read clearly. Something that he himself feels and doesn't want to ignore anymore. It's hope.

"Not the town, no."

Stiles moves along the balcony and the distance closes fast as Derek moves too.

It's been years coming, a long time of Stiles pushing down hope and trying not to wonder whether Derek felt the same. Years of no relationship feeling right. It feels like a dream and because of past experiences, Stiles lifts a hand up and automatically counts his fingers like he used to do.

"Five," Derek whispers and reaches for Stiles's hand, then links their fingers together.

"Huh?"

"Five fingers. Mine too."

"Oh."

Stiles reminds himself to breathe as they stand face to face, barely any space between them. Then, as if on cue, voices come from inside, shouting numbers in unison, one after another, starting from thirty. For a few of them, up to twenty five, Stiles wonders how they're coming through the thickness of the recently installed glass but then all thoughts vanish from his mind as he sees the look in Derek's eyes.

"New year," Stiles whispers.

There's a question in the word and an answer and more information than he knows how to put in words. Derek's looking the way Stiles had hoped to see him for years, expectant and hoping, close enough that Stiles can feel warm breath on his own face. Without thinking, he leans in and closes his eyes for a beat, then opens them again and finds Derek's eyes only a couple of inches away.

"Okay?"

It's Derek who asks permission. Stiles nods and then holds his breath as their lips meet with one last movement closer. From inside, the countdown shouting continues, five, four, three, two, one, then a chorus of wishes for a happy new year. It's all white noise to Stiles though, blood rushing through his ears as he moves his lips against Derek's, their fingers linked and Derek's squeezing like he doesn't want to let go. Stiles moves his free hand to Derek's waist and his fingertips dig into the soft fabric of the T-shirt's thin layer separating him from Derek's skin.

When he feels Derek's tongue on his lip, Stiles can't fight the low moan that builds in his chest. He doesn't want to pull away, wants to stay in this moment forever or at least as long as they can. He's afraid to let go, to break the silence and the moment they're having. But his lungs eventually scream for air, unsatisfied with what he's getting into them. So with reluctance he stops kissing Derek and slowly pulls away, closes his eyes and takes a few deep breaths as he processes what just happened. He feels Derek's forehead against his own and the warmth of a palm on his cheek, then a thumb moving in a gentle stroke.

Another moment later, Stiles opens his eyes and looks into Derek's.

"Hey," he whispers.

"Hey."

"So. This happened."

"Yeah."

"What now?"

Neither of them has a chance to say anything anymore because the balcony door bursts open and when Stiles turns away from Derek and toward the noise, he sees Liam in the doorframe, eyes wide and cheeks flushed, looking apologetic.

"Whoops, sorry, interrupted something, you do you. Or each other. Don't mind me," Liam blurts out and backs away, closing the door again.

Moments later there's whooping from inside, loud enough again to reach them through the glass.

"This there was betting going on?" Stiles asks when it's quieter again.

Derek pauses and closes his eyes, obviously listening to the others, the corner of his lips curling as he does.

"Definitely. Your dad's not happy. Lydia won."

"Naturally."

"So, do we want to brave the wolf's den?" Stiles asks.

HIs fingers twitch against Derek's T-shirt when he's pulled in closer, Derek's palm just above his waist.

"I think we can wait another while. Maybe they'll leave us be," Derek says, smiling.

"And then pigs will fly," Stiles answers. "But I'll take what I can get. Tonight."

He leans forward and kisses Derek again. They might not have much more of this private moment, of the magical bubble where it's only them and no interfering or curious pack members. It's enough for now though because it's only the beginning and if Stiles has anything to do with it, it's the start of forever.

For right now, he's done worrying and done thinking, done wondering and hoping. He's got everything right here. With the way Derek is kissing back and holding Stiles close, Stiles knows that he's not the only one. It's a new year, a new start, and it's good.

#sterek #sterek fic #eternalsterek

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puckngrind · 5 years ago

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Skating Lessons part 17

Summary: Josh takes care of reader and Mason drops a bombshell

Warning: swearing, mentions of sex, nakedness, medical things.... (hold tight...smut is coming soon I swear)

Word Count: 3215

Series Masterlist

Josh spent the night again even with protest but you convinced him to head to morning skate since the nurse made every indication you weren’t getting out of there before noon. Being alone in your hospital room was a strange feeling but you took in the moment of no one fussing over you.

“Babe.” You hear from the door as your gorgeous boyfriend emerges. His hair still wet from his post practice shower. You bite you lip as you watch Josh cross the room. Rubbing his thumb down your lips he kisses you sweetly. “Whatcha thinking about huh?” His eyes meet your with a look and you realize you’ve been caught.

“It’s your fault. I’m in a vulnerable state and you come in all like this.” You motion to his hair and tight T-shirt. “And you are just going to tease me while this boot is on.”

Josh sits on the bed and places his hands on either side of our hips. Pressing his body close to you but not touching he whispers, “oh baby, trust me when you are ready we will work around the boot.” He looks into your eyes and presses his lips to yours. You moan quietly. “Oh my girl is feeling better isn’t she?” Josh whispers into your lips.

“Your girl is ready to lay in our bed and cuddle on the couch. Try to get back to normal.” You look into Josh’s eyes and you realize for the first time the worry has left them.

“Our bed huh?” He chuckles repeating your words back at you. “Which bed is ours?”

“Josh, you know what I mean.” You place your hand on his chest.

“Do I?” His eyebrow raises to question you even further. You feel the heat flooding your face. “Am I always going to make you blush?” He caresses your cheek and feel the blush spreading across your face. “I hope the answer is forever.” He leans to brush his lips to yours then places his forehead on yours. “You are beautiful (y/n).” He stares into your eyes.

“Seriously? I haven’t showered in days and my makeup consists of lipgloss only.” You pull away and just look at him. He doesn’t seem to care by the face he’s making.

“You are gorgeous just like this. Now do I wish this was ‘our bed’” he puts air quotes up. “Yes, but raw moments when it is just us are my favorite and it’s when I realize how madly in love with you I truly am.” He is so matter of fact that it takes your breath away.

“Josh.” You force out through the emotion caught in your throat. Josh just pushes your loose stands of hair behind your ear and his fingers dance down your jawline.

“Let’s get you home baby.” Josh says like he knew the nurse was about to come though with discharge paperwork. Before you knew it she was pushing you down to the front door where Josh met you with his car.

“Oh, I almost forgot.” The nurse shoves her hand in her front pocket and pulls out your 77 necklace in a baggie. “It was the only thing you were wearing that could be saved.” Josh grabs it and slips it into his giant hands.

“It’s the most important thing I was wearing.” You look up at Josh as he places it back on your neck. You immediately bring your fingers up to rub over the J and M.

Before you could protest, Josh has you in his arms and places your gently in the car. You see him shake the nurses hand and round the car.

“You okay babe?” He places his hand gently on your knee. You realIze by the look on his face he’s worried about you being back in a car.

“Yeah. Just want to get home.” You run your hand though his hair and he starts slowly out of the hospital drive. You sat in a comfortable silence for most the drive. Josh very attentive to intersections. “Josh, you know what I meant when I said our bed right?” You look at him but he doesn’t change his focused expression. “Our last conversation before was...” you trail off knowing he doesn’t need you to finish. “Well I think of my bed as yours too. I think of your bed as ours too.” You aren’t sure why you feel this drive home is the best time to explain yourself but you are committed. Josh stays silent but you can tell he’s receptive based on his body language. “And while I might not be ready right now, I’ve realized these last few days that I’m closer to ready than I thought. Mason calling you his showed he’s close too.” You take a deep breath in and Josh mumbles something. “Babe?”

Josh clears his throat to repeat himself, “(y/n), You and Mason have been mine long before I admitted it by telling you I love you. You two are my everything. My family.” You see a tear roll down his cheek and he takes his hand off the wheel for a moment to brush it away.

“Josh.” You almost whisper taking in moment.

“Seth almost called you my family when I got the call. I don’t remember much from the moment your mom called to when I was in your hospital room but Seth’s word or almost word is stuck in my head. I’ve fucked this relationship so many times. I’ve only had hockey to focus on before you. But now all I think about is you and Mace. Hockey comes third.” He pulls the car in park. You look over to see your mom’s car so you know Mason is waiting and this conversation will need to go picked up later.

Pushing up to bring your face closer to his. “Josh, you haven’t fucked anything up. Trust me.” You press your lips to his cheek and he turns to crash his lips into yours. Cupping your face while deepening the kiss. “Let’s get you inside to see Mace.” He pulls away in a huff. “Your mom is taking him tonight.”

“What?” You look puzzled but Josh hops out of the car, opens up his hatch, you look back to see him lift out two suitcases and then his suit. Without saying anything he makes his way into your house and back out with Mason holding his hand.

“Mommmmmaaaaa!” Mason opens your door and is jumping up and down still holding Josh’s hand. Josh only releases he hand to scoop you up and you two follow Mason in the house. Josh seems more gentle when he sits you down on the couch and by looking around you realIze your Mom moved furniture so your scooter could maneuver better.

While cuddling with Mason and over hear Josh and your mom going over details of the next few days.

“I’ll be fine alone for one hour you two!” You pipe up and they both just look at you but say nothing.

Mason kisses you goodbye and bounces off with your mom. Josh gently flops on the couch. “So are you comfortable? I set alarms on my phone for your meds. Do you need anything?” You realIze you are going to just deal with his twenty questions while you adjust.

“I need a shower then ice cream in bed.” You giggle and before you can suggest getting your scooter, Josh scoops you up and heads to your bathroom. Taking his time he takes off your clothes and tapes your boot up so water doesn’t get on it. He’s gentle and sweet as he washes your hair and body. It’s not sexual driven like the last time but still very sensual. He kisses your shoulder as he leans you into his chest.

“Do they hurt?” He rubs down your side across the bruises you don’t have to look at. You simple nod and he winces. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there sooner. That I wasn’t driving. That...”

You bring your hand up to his hair and pull his head closer to yours. “Baby, you came. You couldn’t change it. I’ll be fine in a few weeks and we can get back to normal.” You pull yourself up by his neck to press your lips to his. “Now let’s get that ice cream and snuggle up in bed.” He braced you and reached for the towel wrapping it around you and then reaching for another for your hair. Lifting you easily and took you to your bed. You would fuss about being able to dress and get into bed yourself but you fully enjoyed Josh’s hands brushing against your skin.

Someone Josh manages to wrap his arm around you, look comfortable, and easily eat ice cream from your pint. He turned on The Proposal and you just looked at him. “What? You said it was one of your favorites?” He smirks.

“It has nothing to do with the whole Canadian marrying the American?” Your smirk matched his and his checks flushed slightly.

“I may have read the description....”. He pulls you in and kisses your temple. “So you have about an hour between when I have to leave to catch the team plane and when your mom will be here tomorrow.”

“I’ll be fine as long as you get me to the couch.” You shove more ice cream in your face mouth.

“I’m worried about the vertigo Babe. Maybe I’ll build a pillow fort.” Josh kind of laughs but you hear the worry in his voice. “Your dad is picking up Mason and they are staying here until I get back.”

“Josh, please don’t screw up your job for me.” You realize he’s planning on coming home after the game.

“I’m not. Fully focused on the game but the minute I’m off the ice it’s all you. Plus it’s a contract year. Gotta prove I deserve the big bucks.” He kisses you again.

“I just...” you go to protest but he presses his lips into yours to stop you.

“Let’s watch the movie and try to sleep babe. It’s been a day.” He breathes into your still wet hair. And before you know it you are out.

“Sleeping Beauty, time to get up.” You hear Josh’s low morning voice. Rubbing your eyes you feel the dizziness of the vertigo. “You okay babe?” Josh is fully dressed and sitting next to you with your coffee in his hand.

“Just dizzy. Can you?” You go to ask Josh for help he’s already up and scooping you up. “I need...”

“In the living room already.” He finishes your sentence.

“My toothbrush?” You laugh.

“Oh, no. Your clothes and meds.” Josh makes his way to your bathroom placing you gingerly in front of the sink.

“I may need help...” you eye the toilet and then look at Josh though the mirror.

“Oh, well that wasn’t in the boyfriend job description.” He chuckles. “Yeah, I figured you may need help getting up and down. Dudes have it so much easier by the way.”

“Josh!” You scream as he suddenly pulls your sweats and panties down in one swoop.

“What? You said you needed to pee!”

“I can pull down my own pants, thank you.” The mischievous look on his face makes you smile.

“Can ya? Sure? I mean you do enjoy when I take off your pants...” his tongue is sticking out of his mouth while he takes you in.

“Josh! Come on. Help me so you can get to Pittsburgh.” You finish what you need from the bathroom and Josh carries you to the couch where he in fact has built a pillow fort for you and set up everything you needed. He triple checks everything before kissing you and heading out. About 20 minutes later your phone buzzes.

Josh: if someone is at the door soon just yell come in.

You: what? Who are you sending? I’m fine alone. I just started catching up on Grey’s

Josh: without me? Rude. Just yell come in about 10 minutes

Sure enough 12 minutes later you hear a hard knock on the door. “Come in!” You do what Josh said. Your door slowly opens and you see Eric Robinson emerge with a bag and flowers.

“Uh, hi (y/n). Do you remember me?” Eric closes the door and makes his way carefully towards you.

“Yes, Eric. Did Josh rope you into babysitting me?” You chuckle and Eric’s cheeks are all blotchy.

“Well, I was in town and he asked if I could pick up a few things for you.” He eyes the tv. “Great episode. I just watched it.”

You reach for the bag as his eyes are glued to the screen. “You can sit. I’m sure Josh told you to hang around.” You motion to the empty chair and Eric places the flowers on your coffee table, hands you the card, and goes to sit down.

You open the small card. You smile when you see Josh’s chicken scratch.

Love you more than you know!

I’ll be home soon.

🖤J

“I am not around much but I’ve never seen Andy so in love with someone or something before like you and your son.” Eric still does not take his eyes off the tv but you look at him.

“Yeah, you all keep saying that.” You start to dig into the bag and see all the snacks Josh gives you a hard time about because you both love them but he shouldn’t eat them. “When did he do all this?”

Eric finally looks over at you. “Well he left the note with the florist and I had a very specific list that I ‘couldn’t deviate from’” Eric air quotes the last part and you laugh.

“The man used the word deviate?” Your eyebrows question Eric.

“Well no I’m pretty sure it went more like, ‘Robbie don’t fuck up the list, okay?’” Eric laughs a little as you nod knowing that was more like your man.

“Well thank you. You didn’t have to but I appreciate it.” You place the bag on the couch and look over at Eric. He doesn’t look like he’s going anywhere until your mom gets here. You slip into easy conversation about Grey’s, life in Cleveland, and college.

You hear your door open and your mom appears. “Hey honey! Oh, you have a visitor?”

“Yeah, Josh thinks I cannot handle the hour home alone so he recruited Eric here to come sit with me.” You motion towards Eric who is already getting up to shake your mom’s hand.

“Nice to meet you Eric. And sweetie, it’s been two hour. Plus we’re all worried about you.” She bends down to kiss your forehead then turns her attention to Eric who hasn’t returned to his seat. “So you play hockey too?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Eric answers. “I play for the Monsters mainly but know Josh well from my time in Columbus.”

“Plus they went on vacation together.” You chime in and Eric looks down at you.

“Oh, yes. We went on vacation with Seth this summer.” Eric runs his fingers through his hair and gives you a look. You only assume that trip was not one he wanted to talk about. “Well, my shift is over and I need to head to the rink. It was good seeing you (y/n), and meeting you.” He dips his head in your mom’s direction then heads out.

“Did he bring you flowers and junk food?” Your mom rummages though your bag.

“Well they are from Josh. Eric was convinced to babysit me I guess.” You roll your eyes.

“I’m glad Josh is worried for the both of you.” You mom moves to put the bags she brought away in the kitchen.

Your facetime buzzes from your phone.

“Thank you for the snacks and flowers.” You hold up the peach ring that you stole from the bag before it was taken to the kitchen by your mom. Josh’s face says it all without responding. “But really I didn’t need Eric to babysit me. Was he really going to help me to the bathroom if needed?” Josh almost drops the phone laughing.

“I didn’t even think of that. He would have done it. He’s an amazing dude.” Josh is still chuckling.

“Yeah, thankfully he loves Grey’s too or it would have been super awkward babe.” You smile sweetly at Josh then your eyes jolt over to see where your mom went. “I think she is washing my sheets.” You whisper into your phone.

“Well, hopefully she doesn’t find anything embarrassing.” Josh laughs even louder and your brain goes to where Josh placed all of this things and your eyes bugged out of your head. “Babe, I’m pretty sure your mom knows things.” Josh’s smirk is smug and our face is red.

“Holy shit Josh. Stop. You two talking about seeing me naked was bad enough.” You can see the water fill Josh’s eyes he’s laughing so hard. You are not amused but you smile about how relaxed he looks. “Good luck tonight babe.” “Thanks. I’ll see you late tonight but don’t stay up okay.” Josh collects himself.

“What? Doesn’t the plane come back tomorrow morning?” You almost snap at him.

“I’m catching flight after the game. I’ll be in our bed tonight. Your mom and dad are going to put Mace to bed and then hang out until I get there. Luckily it’s an earlier game.” Josh’s matter of fact attitude left no room for complaining because you know the team figured out the flight situation for him.

“Baby.” You just say in return.

“I gotta go (y/n). Leave room in bed for me okay.” He blows you a kiss and hangs up.

Sure enough that’s exactly how your evening went. You had the game on and Mason was excited Josh did their special move and he could watch the whole game before bedtime. You actually convinced your parents to let you use your scooter to get down to Mason’s room to tuck him in.

“Momma?” Mason whispers as you land on his bed to do your normal routine.

“Yes Sweetie.” You brush your fingers down his face.

“Are we still going to do my birthday party next weekend?” Mason’s little face looked worried and you wish you could take it all away.

“Of course! We have it all set up and all your friends have said they are coming.” You dip down to kiss him.

“And Josh said he will make sure you get on the ice. Do you think you will be able to?” He pulls his covers over his nose like he’s bracing for a let down.

“I’m not sure Mace but I bet Josh has a plan. He practically lives on the ice so if anyone can figure it out it will be him.” You go to turn off Mason’s light.

“Does Josh live here Momma?” Mason’s voice is a little louder and it catches you off guard.

“No Sweet boy, you’ve been the his home.” You go to stand up in the most ungraceful way but you did it.

“CAN Josh live here Momma? I like having him here.” Mason drops a bomb that makes your knee weak and you hold onto the bars.

#josh anderson #my andy man 77 #skating lessons fic #josh anderson imagine

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casimania · 5 years ago

Note

YOU KNOW ITS GOTTA BE THE OT3 FOR THE ASK GAME 😍

Yessss! Domestic ship meme for Chloe/Dan/Lucifer below!

who reaches out to new neighbors: Unexpectedly… Maze! She keeps tabs on who comes and goes even better than Lucifer and is even faster than him at going for a snoop, it was her job to watch his back for a long time after all, ansd she watches out for Trixie too now (does the same for Linda and Charlie). The neighbors are probably confused and concerned like “is the scary lady part of the family??”. Chloe then makes Lucifer, Dan and Trixie come with her do a normal greeting-the-neighbors thing. But because Lucifer is Lucifer it turns out in another interrogation without the neighbors noticing (Maze is good at figuring out if they’re shady but Lucifer finds all the juicy, dirty little secrets). Chloe and Dan have to steer him away.

who remembers to buy healthy food: Since Dan started working on the abs he’s been keeping an eyes on his food more carefully and trying a healthier eating pattern too, except he tends to forget a lot when it’s time to restock. Chloe is better at remembering the list they make in time and following it so Dan writes down the stuff and Chloe reminds everyone when it actually has to be bought. Lucifer just wants to order whatever they need. But they want for Trixie to grow up doing normal stuff like groceries runs. They probably regret it when Lucifer turns out to be just a very tall Trixie and they just try shoving whatever they fancy inside the cart and it’s a constant battle (but he’s also easily disarmed by like, hand holding. Chloe reaches over and grabs his hand and he just spends the whole time looking down in wonder at their hands and looking up at Chloe with a big grin. Dan pushes the cart with Trixie balances either in front of it or between it and Dan and occasionally getting him to speed down an aisle). He does win them over some times they’re all ran to the ground by a case and the idea of crawling out of the house is physically painful.

who remembers to buy junk food: Lucifer, Trixie and Dan have the biggest sweet tooth ever (Lucifer has varied tastes while Trixie inherited Dan’s more focused tastes except it’s chocolate cakes instead of puddings, they sometimes vary but those things reappear frequently) and Lucifer and Trixie like junk food in general so no one ever forgets about restocking it. This time Lucifer definitely orders it (especially the pudding, between all the stealing it runs out fast at the precinct).

who fixes the oven when it breaks: Dan is that Dad™who insists on trying to fix things himself to teach Trixie to be self-reliable except sometimes it’s stuff he doesn’t actually know how to fix so he googles it or asks around and it’s a hit or miss. He either patches it up until the next break or fuckign destroys the thing (with familiar things he’s better). Also I like to think it’s a Dan thing in general, like “I can do this myself!!” except sometimes he overestimates and it ends up with a “oh no. oh fuck” (he gets steadily better at accepting help). Chloe is like, “Baby please just call a professional, they exist for a reason, you can teach Trixie how to fix a shelf or something” and she’s got 4 numbers ready from the start. Lucifer is a “throw the whole thing away” guy because he uses it as an excuse to renovate and add something new. But he lets Dan huff around because it’s amusing (and seeing Dan get to work reminds him he’s seen a few pornos starting like that, so another thing to add to his fantasies fodder) but he’s also curious about any parent-daughter interaction. So the whole thing takes a turn for the wholesome seeing Dan trying to explain stuff to Trixie (he still fantasizes about sweaty Dan in a tanktop grunting and wiggling his ass in the air to check inside the oven later).

who waters the plants/feeds their pet(s): Their lives don’t really match up with a pet but they’ve got plants and Chloe is their lifeline. She goes away for a fun Tribe thing and tells everyone to water the plants. They all forget. The day she’s scheduled to come back they panic, “Can’t we just put a lot of water all at once??”, cue Trixie accidentally making a few vases overflows and Chloe comes back to them frantically mopping the floor (it gets funnier the smaller number of plants they have).

who wakes up earlier: Lucifer can’t not sleep but he can get by on minimal sleep, so he often wakes up and lays in bed blissed out enjoying snuggling with his loves. Wake up as in up and leaves the house, it’s Dan. He either hits the gym or the beach for surfing most mornings before work so he’s up real early. Chloe and Lucifer roll around and go back cuddling.

who makes the bed: Lucifer always neatly tucks it in before leaving the house if he’s the last one to go (very fussy devil, he likes making messes but he also likes having everything restored to tidyness after). Chloe is more of the ‘just haphazardly pull the covers up’ before leaving type (mostly to set somewhat of a good example for Trixie). Dan barely bothers and is the one that always forgets when it’s actually time to change the covers.

who makes the coffee: Lucifer is the one cooking most times so he also makes breakfast and has always coffee ready for Dan and Chloe when they wake up. He’s neutral on it but he starts drinking it regularly because he enjoys when they’re all standing against the counter and Chloe and Dan have these sleepy expressions with half lidded eyes but they sip on the coffee and smile or hum happily against the mug (it’s small cozy moments like these that make him feel all fluttery and content inside, the Devil likes to be painfully domestic). He knows exactly how they take their coffee but he’s also real good at figuring out what else they’d like so he’s always making them trying fancy new stuff for fun and he basically always hits the mark).

who burns breakfast: Chloe and Dan try to make something extremely elaborated for Lucifer because he’s always cooking for them but they have it in over their heads (and are trying to be quick and silent) and end up burning something while. When Lucifer smells burning stuff he comes barrelling into the kitchen ready for a fight and Trixie trails after him. He’s like, very touched. But then either stirs them away so he can whip up himself the thing they botched, or they still sit him down and feed him waffles or pancakes or something else they know how to do with thier eyes closed. Lucifer loves the idea of preparing stuff for them and surprising them with new things, but also just kicking back, eating whatever they set in front of him and licking syrup off his fingers while one of them stands nearby and absentmindedly runs a hand back and forth through his hair and down his neck… is very nice. He probably falls asleep like that at least once. He doesn’t faceplant in a waffle just because he’s seeking out the hand even in his sleep and doesn’t slump forward too much. It reminds Dan and Chloe of Trixie when she was very little.

how do they let each other know they’re leaving the house: Dan bellows everyone’s names and then “I’M LEAVING! BYE!” from the door loud enough to wake the dead. Answers vary gretly depending on the hour he does it (from loving responses from around the house to threats of physical violence if he tries breaking the sound barrier one more time at the ass crack of dawn if he leves early). Chloe pokes her head in whichever room they are and “Guys I’m going!”. Lucifer forget to say anything sometimes but never leaves without a kiss or some nuzzling.

how do they greet each other when one of them gets home: Dan bellows (again) “I’M HOME” as soon as he opens the door. Chloe just says “Hi!” at a normal volume once she’s fully inside. Lucifer barges in screaming “DeeeTeEECtiIIVeeeES” until he finds some of them to kiss. It’s a Thing for him apparently, goodbye kiss and welcome home kiss.

who brings home little gifts like flowers/chocolates more often: Lucifer is always getting Dana and Chloe little trinkets and gifts. He started out with more extravagant stuff but they managed to get him to tone it down a little. They vary from sweet or funny to “I know this must be a sex toy but what the hell is it supposed to be exactly??”.

who picks the movie for movie night: They wrote down a ton of movies and put them in a bowl to avoid bicker over it for an entire hour. If Trixie partecipates they let her choose something age appropriate she likes.

their favorite kind of movie to watch: Dan and Lucifer love action flicks (the bloodier and full of ridiculous explosions, one-liners and half naked people the better). Lucifer gets into cheesy romcoms with Chloe (it becomes a shared guilty pleasure, they look for the very outrageous ones). Trixie becomes a sci-fi buff growing up.

who first suggests a pillow fort: Oh man Dan and Trxie are all over it (personal hc that is was sometimes Dan always liked but in his family he got at a certain age where they decided he was too old for it, so they didn’t make them with him and he was embarassed to do one by himself and get caught, so he’s the most enthusiastic next to Trixie and never makes her feel like it’s a thing just for little kids). And angels nesting is a thing in every fandom with angels so it reminds Lucifer a lot of a nest so he gets a little weird about it at first because it reminds him of his sibligns and the Silver City, but gets very into it after a while (which later brings him to feel a little dristessed when they bring the whole thing down, which leads to them helping him build an actual nest).

who builds the pillow fort: In the Decker-Espinoza family Trixie gives directions and Dan and Chloe are the certified builders. With Lucifer thrown in the mix he goes for the aesthetics and so the first color coordinated pillow forts are born, he adds some flair.

who tries to distract the other during the movie: Lucifer with Trixie present = constant running commentary and continuous “pet me” requests (he loves his cuddles but if they get distracted and stop he prods at them until someone starts petting hair or running their hands over his back again, like excuse me! attend to me!). Lucifer without Trixie = naughty wandering hands (he’s very good at multitasking and will try to offer commentary of a movie in the middle of giving oral).

who falls asleep first: When she has a case Chloe is always very keyed up so she drops as soon as she hit the pillow. Lucifer makes an effort to wait for Dan to also fall asleep. He likes knowing they’re all safe and comfortable dozing off near him, and likes falling asleep to the sound of that deep breathing of the dead to the world sleeping.

who is big spoon/little spoon: Lucifer absolutely craves the shit out of being in the middle, something about having someone on his back and front makes him feel incredibly safe and loved and makes sleeping so much easier. Chloe and Dan are very versatile on that front so they swap a lot between being big and little spoon when it’s comfortable to be all squished together.

#venividivictorious #Lucifer #Chloe Decker #Lucifer Morningstar #Dan Espinoza #Morningdespinoza #answered #Lucifer on Netflix #Lucifer (TV)#god I missed answering these ask thingies #OT3: The Devil the Miracle and the Douche #I need to start calling this 'OT3: Detective smol tol and swole'

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europeanguy · 6 years ago

Text

Some Kind of Magic

Pairing: Shane x Platinum!MC (Veronica/ “Ronnie”)

Words: >2k

Rating: G, Fluff

Summary: Shane and Ronnie reminisce about 2006 and Shane is a being a big melt

A/N: many many thanks to @pixieferry for “beta-ing” this, without whom this drabble would be one huge yikes. Thank you for all your help and all the encouragement 💛 I forgot to ask you about titles so this will do HAHAHA

tagging @8im8the8one bc she ships this and has good taste LMAO

“Do I look okay?” Veronica turns to Shane, then turns back again to the mirror. She pouts and points at the nearly invisible dark circles under her eyes - even Shane couldn’t lie, no amount of concealer can hide the hours upon hours they spent awake brainstorming for her Christmas album. “God, I look like a zombie.”

“But a very pretty - albeit a little tired - zombie.” Shane snorts from his place on the bed from the other side of the room. But she did look pretty, with or without a scary professional stylist who micromanages her everyday clothing choices. “Did Zadie pick that out?”

“Yeah, oh my god, you should have seen her face when she saw me packing this skirt in an overnight bag.” Veronica smooths out her maxi skirt, then cuffs and uncuffs her sweater sleeves. “I can’t believe I kept you up all night writing lyrics with me.”

“I’ll be alright… I’m worried about you, though. Do your fake dates always have to be this early?”

“Dinner is kind of teetering in the danger zone, if you know what I mean.” Veronica winks at the mirror as she ruffles her brown bangs. A non-awkward silence slips in, seconds ticks by before they burst into laughter. “Fiona just said dinner is too romantic at this point, okay?”

“Riiight… we can’t have you munching on oysters in dim lighting with Raleigh Carrera, cause you just might jump him.” Shane bites his lip to stifle his laughter. He almost feels a sense of deja vu - as if they were eight again laughing under the pillow fort that they always build in her parent’s living room. It’s as if this has happened before, except now they’re older and miles away from home - still somehow together.

“Ugh!” Veronica groans in frustration and walks over to Shane’s bed, collapsing beside him. Her weight makes the mattress dip as she tries to find a comfortable position. She ends up squeezed next to him, arms crossed. “I don’t even like him like that.”

Shane nods, closing his eyes. “It does suck that your first relationship is with a hot famous guy, Ronnie.”

Veronica smirks and burrows her cold feet under Shane’s legs.

“Eeee!” Shane squirms away. “What’s that for?!”

“That was for sassing me,” Veronica shrugs. “Speaking of fake relationships, weren’t you my fake husband?”

Back then, it was for a little movie he was shooting with his dad’s camera. That was when Shane fully realized that he’s into the whole concept of telling stories through film, so it’s only obvious that the star of all his projects would be Veronica - who also happens to be the only actress he can find that’s willing to work for candy. Everett, Veronica’s older brother, promised to play the officiant role but bailed at the last second - so they had to be creative and use their teddy bears.

“Damn, you really upgraded.” Shane still remembers that summer and how upset Veronica was when she found out that Shane already ate his ring pop wedding ring.

“Not really,” Veronica shrugs. “I mean, I don’t think he’d re-tie my shoes for me for a whole month until I figured out how to do it myself.”

“Oh my god, you still remember that?” Shane covers his face in embarrassment. “I think you realized you had to do it yourself when I accidentally tied your shoelaces together and you landed flat on your face.”

“Accidentally.” Veronica makes air quotes, earning a scoff from him.

“I was four!”

“I miss that playground… not how the sand tastes though.” Veronica smiles. “Are you coming back home for Christmas?”

“I don’t know, honestly.” Shane sighs. “Mom and Dad are already bugging me about booking plane tickets. Apparently she needs my help to convert a bunch of home videos she found in our attic.”

“Please tell me I’m invited! I want to rewatch all our movies!” Veronica sits up.

“That’s already a given.” Shane stretches his arms then proceeds to feel around the bed for his phone. “Huh… mom just sent me a video.”

Dear Shane,

Dad and I figured it out, but you still have to come home, I know for a fact that you’re not eating well at your dorm… I can tell from your Pictagram pictures. Please tell Ronnie we miss her and we’d love for her to spend the holidays with us. Love you sweetie.

LOL,

Mom

Shane bursts out laughing at his mom’s use of LOL - and the fact that his mother follows him on Pictagram.

“What is it?” Veronica lies back, scooting closer to Shane so she could peek at his phone’s screen. “Aww, I miss your mom too.”

Underneath the message is an attachment of a video, with a slightly blurry, and hauntingly familiar, thumbnail.

“Is that-?”

“Oh god. Oh no. Oh my god-” Shane tries to scramble away but Veronica’s prying hands are too quick, and she snatches the phone away from him.

Veronica taps the play button and instantly, hundreds of voices and clapping meld together into unintelligible noise and the video slowly focuses on the stage as an older student shuffles to the microphone stand.

“I now have the pleasure of announcing the final act of the Winter Talent Show,” they start a little too loudly, sending feedback throughout the auditorium. “Please welcome Shane and Ronnie as they sing Way Back Into Love!”

The announcer runs offstage and the stage lights flicker on as the curtains open, revealing a ten-year-old Shane and Ronnie by his side - both terrified. Shane remembers that moment when Ronnie couldn’t let go of his hand. The auditorium is silent and whoever is taking the video sniffs.

“Look at us!” Veronica coos at the screen, and just in time the video zooms in to their faces as they step forward to the mic stand. The announcer runs back with a spare microphone and stand for Shane, gives the two kids an encouraging nod before awkwardly running off. Shane looks at Ronnie and they finally let go of each other’s hands to get in position.

The first few notes of the song starts in a soft piano instrumental, and little Ronnie closes her eyes as if to take a breath. She opens her eyes and looks at Shane for reassurance, the uncertainty slowly fading from her face. She sings, softly at first.

I’ve been living with a shadow, overhead. I’ve been sleeping with a cloud above my bed. I’ve been lonely for so long, trapped in the past I just can’t seem to move on.

“Noooo, no no-” Shane grabs a pillow and buries his face in it, trying to drown out his own voice as he sings Hugh Grant’s parts in monotone.

“You weren’t that bad!” Veronica pokes his side as she continues to watch the video.

All I wanna do is find a way back into love.

Ronnie’s voice carries them throughout the whole performance, making both of them sound good.

“I still don’t know how you do that.” Shane tosses the pillow off his face, giving up and decides to watch the video again.

“Do what?” Veronica can’t stop smiling as she watches them finish the song and excitedly hug on stage as the crowd breaks into applause.

“That whole angelic voice thing.” Shane says oh-so-casually, hoping she doesn’t notice the tell-tale blush on his cheeks.

As the video comes to an end, little Shane and Ronnie hold hands as they walk backstage amidst the applause. Her hands were cold and clammy from nerves, not that he ever cared if her hands were sweaty or sticky with candy.

“That was so cute.” Veronica wipes her eyes, handing Shane’s phone over to him. “I love you, you know.”

Shane nods, trying not to put too much meaning in her words. “I know.”

“No, really,” Veronica sighs. “You didn’t really want to be on stage but it was my first time performing in front of a crowd that big, so when I asked you to sign up with me and you agreed, no complaints.”

“Well thanks to me we didn’t win, so.” Shane grins. A week after the talent show he gave Ronnie a trophy out of empty tissue rolls held together by glue.

Veronica sighs exaggeratedly and chuckles. She shifts position, locking her eyes onto his. His mouth goes dry. Was his best friend, since they were four, making heart eyes at him? Nah, he must be hallucinating.

He tries to squelch that weird flip-flopping in his stomach, whatever the hell it is. Tries to ignore the subtle scent of her shampoo, not quite masked by her perfume, and it takes him back to when they were ten with asters in their hair. Don’t stare at her soft lips - shit too late, too late. They’re inching closer, her breath is warm on his skin and everything’s tingling and

Riiiing!

Both of them nearly jump out of their skin when her phone starts ringing, cutting through the thick tension in the air. Veronica scrambles to get her phone and Shane’s cheeks ignite as he sits up to put some distance between them.

“Hank’s downstairs,” Veronica rolls her eyes and smiles, “Time to show up at fake brunch.”

“Duty calls!” Shane stands up and clears his throat, suddenly feeling awkward. Oh god. That was so unnatural just now. What’s wrong with you, Shane? “So uh, I’ll walk you out?”

Veronica slips her socks on, quickly shuffling around the room to shove her stuff back into her bag. “Sure!”

“Wait, don’t forget this!” Shane fishes under his duvet for her lyrics notebook, then follows Veronica who’s already hurried out of his room. Shane spots something pink at the corner of his eye, but ignores it as he jogs down the stairs of their shared loft. After Veronica slips on her boots, Shane hands her the notebook.

“Oh my god, thank you.” Veronica takes the notebook and gives him a tight hug. “Hang soon, okay?”

“O-Okay!”

Shane watches as she rushes down the hall to the elevator. She flashes him an uncharacteristically shy smile while waiting for the elevator to reach their floor. It reaches them with a soft ding, and Shane’s stomach drops as his roommates step out - looking confused when they come face to face with Veronica. Veronica gives them a sheepish grin as she steps in the elevator, looking at Shane one last time before the doors close.

Tucker looks back at the closed elevator and back at Shane - who simply shrugs in innocence.

“That was… that was-”

“I thought you guys wouldn’t be home until Sunday?” Shane nonchalantly types a text to Veronica as he steps aside to let his roommates in.

You left your wig 😂😂😂

“Do not change the subject right now.” Tucker lugs his suitcase inside. “That person who obviously just came out of our place-”

“My friend-Ronnie? Yup.”

Shane’s phone pings with a text.

Looks like you have some explaining to do 😂

Another A/N:

1. Ronnie is my Open Heart MC’s (Everett) little sister, she’s 23 and he’s 27.

2. honestly that’s it my mind is already blanking its almost 2 HAHA

3. Oh YEAH I almost forgot to talk about that edit…

4. I feel like Shane turned out as a cute kid but man…. Ronnie was looking a lot more demonic in the previous versions (I used to ILITW MC kids + their faces, not unlike my TRR edit with the TE MCs + the gang)

5. anyway i know i said i quit writing but this just stemmed from me needing Shane x MC content and not finding any so I took it upon myself to just make them lol (also Way Back Into Love is kind of my recent song obsession)

6. I just love hugh grant okay

7. okay bye

#long post #europeanguy fic #platinum #shane x mc #europeanguy edits #im about to pass out man #playchoices #choices fanfiction #shane parker

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thatoneloser-kid · 6 years ago

Note

read your hope/amy fanfic and i loved it! i have a prompt if you’re willing to write it. About hope’s feelings toward amy prior to the events of the movie until the moment amy first kisses her in the bathroom, since it’s slightly hinted that she’s always had a thing for amy based on their first scene

Thank you for reading! I hope this is okay.

If you have any prompts send them this way

Hope first spoke Amy when she was ten.

They both run into each other during gym, both landing on their ass on the grass, eyes wide in surprise.

Amy started stuttering out an apology, crawling on her hands and knees to Hope, who had pushed herself up onto her elbows.

Amy was small, freckles dusted over her cheeks and nose, and she had a sweet smile.

Hope grew up in a relatively liberal environment, her oldest sister was dating woman, so part of her then, even at that young age, understood what was happening.

“Are you- did I- you aren't hurt, are you?” Amy asked, her wide eyes searching Hope’s features for any sign of pain or anger.

“I'm fine, are you okay?”

“Yes, yeah. My butt cushioned my fall.” Amy reasoned, and Hope found it oddly charming.

Hope smile, reaching up to pull what looked like straw from Amy’s hair, unsure how that even got there.

Amy looked bashful, ducking her head and peering at Hope through her eyelashes as Hope held up the straw.

“How did that even get there?”

“Molly was kicking the grass clippings around.” Amy explained.

“Girls?” the coach called as she made her way to them. “You both okay?”

“Yes, ma'am.” Amy quickly scrambled to her feet.

“Then get back to your team, you too, Hope.”

Hope found herself more attuned to Amy after that day, her eyes wandering to her in class, which Amy never noticed, of course she didn't, she was hyper focused on the teacher, scribbling notes in her book.

Amy made her giddy in a way boys never had.

She was eleven when she finally brought up the subject with Ruby, who was back from college for Christmas.

“Spit it out, loser.” Ruby said one night after they finished building a fort in the living room..

“Do you love Laura?” The question took Ruby completely by surprise, glancing over at Hope. “I mean, you guys have been together forever.”

“Yeah, no, I do love her.” Ruby answered. “You just took me by surprise. Why were you thinking about that?”

“I think I like someone. A girl.” Hope clarified, her shoulders lifting in a shrug. “She doesn't really know I exist, we've only talked a few times.”

“It’s tough, kid, trying to figure out where you stand with girls.” Ruby explained. “Sometimes you think maybe they're into you but they are just being friendly.”

Hope learned that the hard way at summer camp when she was thirteen.

Whatever it was she was feeling for Amy was still lingering, but there was this girl, her name was Ashley and she looked enough like Amy that Hope was smitten immediately.

They became fast friends, and on the last night Hope kissed her.

There was nasty words thrown at her, and when Ruby came to pick her up Hope hugged her tight and cried.

That summer had been one of the worst of her life.

First that happened with Ashley, then her parents got divorced and her father moved halfway across the country. That caused her middle sister to spiral, drinking and almost killing herself when she wrapped her car around a tree. Her mother was depressed, Jessie had to go through months of rehab to even be able to walk fully supported by a zimmer, and Ruby was angry, which almost caused her to break up with Laura.

And Hope was just there, trying to keep her family together while her ass of a father ran away with, Hope found out later, the nineteen year old he was having an affair with.

So, Hope decided to protect herself after that summer, she became coarse and mean, even after Ruby sat down with her and told her to not let this stuff rot her, to let it make her kind instead of nasty.

But it was easier to be nasty, it was what people expected of her, she was pretty, and tall, and people looked at her and in an instant decided she was mean, and that made it easier for them to hate her, so she became what everyone wanted her to.

The first time she was mean to Amy it kind of hurt, watching her smile fade, the hurt in her eyes, it didn't become any easier to be mean to Amy, but it was necessary, Amy had too much of a hold over her.

Amy came out in tenth grade, and Hope felt something akin to, well, hope in her chest, maybe Amy would like her, maybe she had a shot.

Then she noticed how Amy stared at Ryan, all wide eyes and soft smiles, and that hurt.

Part of Hope wondered what Ryan had that she didn't, she figured it was because Ryan was nice, always smiling and being friendly, Hope hadn't said anything to Amy that wasn't horrible or sarcastic all school year.

So Hope understood, Amy wanted someone who was nice, who was sweet, she deserved better than Hope, and maybe that was Ryan.

Everything in Hope was getting too much and it was rotting, making Hope rotten.

Ruby noticed when she was back for Christmas, both her and Laura brandishing their new engagement rings.

And Hope knew she should be happy for then, she thinks maybe she would be if she could force herself to feel anything.

Ruby pulled her aside during her stay, checking in with her and asking her too many questioned that, honestly, Hope didn't have the answers too.

The first time she had sex she was fifteen, with a college student she met at the bar they had gone to after Ruby’s wedding.

Sex wise, it was great, it felt great, but as soon as it was over Hope rolled out of bed, the girl still coming down from her orgasm, pulling on her clothes and leaving with barely a flick of her wrist over her shoulder as a goodbye.

That was the start nameless girls and sleepless nights. Sex was just sex, never feelings, never romantic, just a means to realise stress, a way of kind of dealing with the fact she essentially felt nothing almost all the time.

She started drink, then smoking weed and she was spiraling, and she didn't know how to stop.

She knew what was happening when she got home one night and her mother, and two sisters were sitting at the kitchen table, all serious.

Hope scream at them, claiming they didn't understand, but then she broke down in her mother's arms when she told her she had to deal with her father leaving, because he wasn't coming back.

Her sisters, came into her room that night, Ruby in front of her, Jessie behind her, both enclosing her in a hug.

“I like girls, Jess,” Hope whispered against Ruby’s chest.

“Yeah, we know.” Jessie hummed. “It's kinda obvious, kid. We've all known since you were a kid.”

Hope pulled back to frown up at Ruby.

“I didn't tell’em, all of us have known since you were a child.” Ruby shrugged.

“I don't know what to do, I don't-- I don't feel anything anymore.”

“We looked into therapist, we found a good one, whenever you're ready she is willing to see you.” Jessie said, her fingers ticking her arm.

Hope nodded, cuddling closer to Ruby, Jessie shuffling tight against her.

Hope went to therapy when she was sixteen, she put it off as long as she could, but after having what was a borderline breakdown upon hearing her father was having a baby with the woman he ran away with.

Hope had expected her to be old, and a little condescending, and kind of shitty.

But she was young, and nice, and she managed to pull things from Hope that Hope didn't even know she was struggling with.

They even spoke about Amy, but Hope had just shrugged and said she had a crush on her years ago that had never really disappeared, but she had accepted that it was something that would never happen.

She deal with her father, and everything that happened that summer, everything that had happened since.

She stopped the casual hookups and the drunken nights, she kept smoking but didn't spend all day stoned. She was still kind of a bitch, but she wasn't as nasty as before.

Amy kissing her took her completely but surprise, prompting her to pull away, her eyes a little wide before she schooled her expression, grinning at Amy before kissing her again. She pushed away the thought that Amy was only doing this because she was upset.

Technique wise, the kiss wasn't the best, but feeling wise it surpassed anything she had experienced before.

Her heart was rattling again against her chest, her lips almost burning, her hand sliding up Amy’s back to caress the back of her head while Amy pushed her jacket away.

All in all, the night was a bit of a shambles, with the mishap during sex, and Amy throwing up on her, it was kind of horrible.

“You okay, kiddo?” Jessie asked, barely glancing from the TV, but Ruby, who was visiting for her graduation, glanced back at her.

“I guess,” Hope hummed, falling down on the sofa in between her sisters, staring at the TV with a little frown. “Amy kissed me.”

Both her sisters heads whipped to her. “What?” Ruby asked.

“How was it?”

“Kind of awful, she threw up on me.”

Jessie laughed, but Ruby frowned.

“I don't know, I guess it was awful, but it felt great.” Hope sighed, sliding down on the sofa. “But she was upset about something, so I don't think it's meant anything.”

Jessie stopped laughing, and Ruby pulled her in for a hug.

“Are you seeing her again?”

“I don't think so,” Hope shook her head. "I'm going away during the summer, then I'm going to Bard, I don't even know where Amy is going. Maybe I should just let it go.”

“Maybe,” Ruby hummed, both she and Jessie leaning into her and speaking at the same time. “Or,”

“Or?”

“Or you could give it one last hail Mary?” Jessie suggested.

“Go see her, talk to her, it's out there now that there is something between you two, this is your in.” Ruby added.

“What's the worst that could happen?” Jessie said.

“She could reject me.”

“Mm,” Ruby hummed. “But she did throw up on you, so, really, who should be more embarrassed?”

Hope chuckled, letting her head fall against Ruby’s shoulder.

“Just give it a shot, kiddo.” Jessie leaned against Hope, who lifted her arm to let her sister settle against her comfortably. “She could be your Laura.”

Hope hummed, taking comfort in her sisters as she thought the idea over.

Turning up at Amy’s door had kind of been a last minute thing, watching the girls make that obnoxious entrance and knowing that she had spent the night in jail, she decided to throw caution to the wind and head over.

Amy was all stuttery and bashful, and Hope thought then that maybe Amy kind of liked her too, the offer of a place to crash if she ended up in Botswana, kind of confirmed it to her.

She gave Amy her number along with a note;

‘maybe we can try last night again? Not on a bathroom floor, and without the throwing up?’

Amy had texted her before she even got home apologising about the throwing up thing, and the finger thing, and Hope endured the teasing from her sisters after they caught her grinning down at her phone.

There was still a question mark over the whole thing, Amy was going away for a year, but she was going to be in New York after that, and she did invite Hope to Botswana during the summer.

So, for now, Hope was content with the odd text, then the occasional call on a janky satellite phone while she was somewhere in Europe.

She was more than happy to wait to see where this would lead.

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