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seijorhi · 4 years ago

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Pretty Young Thing

A yandere Erasermic commission for an anon, I hope you like it bby!!

Aizawa Shouta x reader x Hizashi Yamada

TW non-con, breeding kink, pregnancy, surrogacy, pregnant sex, smut, age-gap, nsfw

“Don’t you think she’s a little young, ‘Zashi?”

“It’s up to you both how involved you are during the first stages and the overall pregnancy. Normally we suggest an initial meeting with the potential surrogate for all three of you to get a feel for one another and decide if you want to proceed with the arrangement, but should you wish, we can–”

“No,” he interrupts, sparing Hizashi a fleeting glance. “We want to meet her.”

Beneath the desk, his husband squeezes his hand.

Hizashi quirks an eyebrow, pausing midway through fixing his hair in the mirror. “Whaddya mean, babe? She’s in her twenties ain’t she?”

He’s not wrong, but that’s not the issue. They picked you, they both picked you, but there’s this lingering unease that he can’t seem to shake. It’s not so much your age specifically, he knows that you’re only a few years younger than the majority of the other women whose profiles they’d seen – you’re old enough to understand what you’re getting yourself into and agree to it, at any rate – it’s just that he doesn’t quite understand why somebody your age would want to do this.

And there’s something different about you, it’s just a feeling of course – he hasn’t yet had a chance to confirm his suspicions, but he wants to meet you and decide for himself.

“We do have a number of potential surrogates with promising Quirks if you’re considering pursuing that option for your child,” the Doctor told them, smiling as they flipped through page after page of profiles.

Hisako, 35, Quirk: Sun-flare

Nozumi, 26, Quirk: Mimic

Koharu, 28, Quirk: Seismic Wave

Chiyoko, 33, Quirk: Golden Whip

Yuzuki, 32, Quirk: Silencer

There’s dozens of them – which is more than he expected.

Aizawa knew coming in that this wasn’t normally the process, that this agency catered specifically to Heroes – was recommended by the Hero commission – but it still feels strange, just browsing through pages upon pages of potential candidates to carry their baby.

Was he supposed to be feeling some kind of emotion looking at these profiles? The women were all healthy, each of them attractive, in their own ways (nothing but the very best, the Doctor had reassured them with a smile). This woman, whoever they picked, she’d be carrying their baby, yes, but that was the extent of it. She wasn’t going to be a part of their lives beyond that, so what did it matter if she was nice or liked to cook or play tennis?

There were stats, of course. Their education and IQ’s and little snippets of history, but they were all impressive, otherwise they wouldn’t have been included. Were they supposed to choose based on their Quirk? One that might compliment his or Zashi’s? Quirks were troublesome things to begin with, and–

“Wait-wait, Shou, hold up,” Hizashi’s voice cut through his musings, long fingers wrapping around his wrist midway through turning the page. “Go back one.”

He does as he’s told, flicking the page back.

Y/N, 23, Quirk: N/A.

A lone eyebrow lifts. Quirkless, huh? A blank slate.

But that’s not what caught Hizashi’s eye.

“She’s kinda cute, don’tcha think, baby?”

It feels weirdly like a first date, nervous jitters and all – though he’d like to believe he’s better at suppressing that now then back when he was a teenager. Aizawa hasn’t bothered to shave, but his hair’s tied back in a loose bun and he’s pulled out a suit for the occasion – he’s even wearing a tie for fuck’s sake. Beside him, Hizashi’s ditched his usual leather jacket and ripped jeans for, well, nicer jeans and a button up floral shirt.

And then there’s you. Standing in the doorway of the cafe glancing around like a little lost lamb, he recognises you instantly from the picture on your profile, but the moment your eyes meet his he’s struck with the realisation that the picture didn’t truly do you justice.

Because you do look young (at least compared to their thirty odd years) and it might just be the hesitant smile adorning your face as you start to make your way over, or the charming little summer dress falling to your mid-thigh, swishing hypnotically with every step, but Shouta feels something catch in his chest the more he stares. You really are… what was the word ‘Zashi had used? Cute?

Yeah. You were cute.

The agency had offered to host this little meetup at their clinic, and while he hadn’t particularly cared one way or the other, Hizashi’d been insistent. He’d wanted this to feel ‘natural’.

‘I don’t really wanna meet our potential baby mama for the first time in some boring, sterile office, d’you?”

He’d only bitten back a sigh at the time, shaking his head. It wouldn’t have been worth upsetting him by reminding him that the girl was technically a glorified incubator. He had every intention of being involved in this process, but this initial meeting was to establish two things. Firstly, that after meeting them, you still felt comfortable with carrying their baby, and secondly, he wanted to make absolutely certain that you weren’t trying to get anything out of this.

Oh, he knew you were getting paid, handsomely, he’s sure, but the thought that you, or any of the women the agency had fobbed their way might not all be in this for altruistic reasons had crossed his mind.

You were just so young.

But he was more than happy to determine those two things in a ten minute meeting at the agency.

Hizashi was not, and so here they are.

Ten minutes in, and he finds himself glad of his husband’s insistence. Hands wrapped around your mug of coffee (you should enjoy it while you can) you chatter away with Hizashi, beaming and blushing, tripping over your own words in your nervousness.

You’re about as dangerous as a kitten, and he allows himself to relax enough in his seat to enjoy watching the blonde charm you.

“So why don’t ya tell us a little about yourself, songbird?”

“There’s really not all that much to tell,” you say with a sheepish laugh, but they listen as you talk anyway. It’s nothing the profile hadn’t already told them, nothing spectacular that would make you stand out in the crowd.

And yet, an hour and a half later, you’re trying in vain to distract him and Hizashi both so that you can slip your card in with the bill to pay for lunch, and Shouta finds himself oddly amused.

There were other candidates – ones with impressive Quirks, smarter than you, more accomplished than you, older than you–

“Ya sure you don’t want a lift, sweetheart? It’s no trouble.”

You smile again, demure little thing, and shake your head. “Oh no, really it’s okay. It’s not far and… I like the walk. Thank you, though.”

– but none nearly so endearing, he thinks.

And when they watch you disappear into the crowd, one final wave thrown over your shoulder, Hizashi’s fingers lace with his once more.

“So she’s our baby mama, huh?

He’s silent for a moment. “I suppose so.”

—

The agency recommended, at least in the initial stages before the implantation procedure took place, that any communication between the three of you should go through them.

Hizashi had your number programmed into his phone before you’d even left the cafe, and he’s been texting you every day since – to the point where it wasn’t unusual for Shouta to come downstairs and find Mic chuckling to himself, fingers dancing across the keyboard on his phone as he replies to whatever message you’ve sent.

Shouta, for his part, tends to message only to check in.

How are you feeling? Any side effects from the meds?

Your response comes a little slower than usual, and it’s almost an hour before finally he receives it.

Sorry they’re cracking down on us using our phones at work :(

Everything’s good so far! The doc said i should be on track for our appointment next week!

… is it weird that I’m a little excited haha?

His brow furrows at that. You hadn’t mentioned a job – at least not to him, he’d have to ask Hizashi later whether you'd said anything to him.

Why on earth were you still working? He’d seen the contracts, he knew exactly how much you were getting paid for this little venture, wasn’t that enough to support you?

He makes a brief mental note to make sure that whatever job you were working at, you stopped long before the baby was due. You might just be a surrogate, but he’d be damned if his baby was put in jeopardy because you were needlessly exerting yourself.

Nevertheless, his expression softens somewhat as he reads the second part of your message. You were excited, hm?

Well, that made three of you.

Both he and Hizashi’d been willing to come along to the clinic with you – he’d even submitted a formal leave request to take the day off from UA, but the Doctor had assured him that it wasn’t necessary.

“The procedure is quick and relatively painless. She’ll be home within a few hours, and so long as she remains off her feet and doesn’t undertake any strenuous activity, she will be perfectly fine.”

It hadn’t sat particularly well with Hizashi who’d spent the afternoon huffing and complaining about the clinic trying to kick them both out of the process. That much, he expected – he understood it to an extent; the agency catered specifically to Heroes, most of their clientele probably had busy schedules (which was true in their case as well). There wasn’t a need for them to be present at such a minor procedure, even if it did hopefully mark the beginnings of your pregnancy.

What he hadn’t expected was the twinge of discontent he felt settle in his own stomach. The Doc might’ve preferred they stay out of this, but at the end of the day he really didn’t give a shit what she or the agency wanted.

So he messaged you.

Do you want us there with you?

He watches those three little dots bounce for almost a solid minute before finally your reply comes through.

No, it’s okay, you don’t have to come. The Doc said it wouldn’t take long and I don’t wanna be a burden for you guys

It’s not really an answer to his question, and he briefly wonders if Hizashi might be right about the agency interfering, but he’s not going to fight you on it.

At least, that’s his plan until Principal Nezu pulls him aside at the end of a staff meeting and tells him that he’s found somebody to cover his classes tomorrow if he still wants the day off.

“Ya gotta go, babe. One of us should be there for our ‘lil mama.”

He asks you what time your appointment is and there’s a surprisingly pleasant fluttering in his stomach when you walk through the clinic doors and catch sight of him sitting in the waiting room.

It’s a momentary surprise – you almost do a double take, but a smile lights your face and you ignore the receptionist in favour of racing towards him.

“Shouta, I thought you weren’t coming!” Your arms wrap around his middle, squeezing tightly.

He finds himself returning your hug – albeit somewhat stiffly – but he’s glad he made the decision to come. The Doctor wasn’t wrong, you’re only in with her for just under twenty minutes, and when you come out there’s a tremble in your legs, but you seem otherwise fine.

It goes without saying that he’s driving you home, though you try once again to beg him off.

Kitten, when are you gonna learn that so long as you’re carrying his and ‘Zashi’s child, they’re going to go out of their way to make things easier for you – whether you want them to or not.

Yet your quiet discomfort on the drive home doesn’t slip past his attention. Maybe it’s because he’s become accustomed to your nervous rambling, but there’s something odd about the way you’re sitting so quietly, fingers twisting in your lap as you stare out the window. He knows that if Hizashi was here, he’d be chatting your ear off, but he’s never been one to fill silence with unnecessary small talk.

Though he can’t exactly help the way his own mind drifts. Are you in pain? The Doc didn’t say anything about there being any pain, only that you should rest over the next few days, so it shouldn’t be that. Perhaps you’re just lost in your thoughts – it’s strange for them having a surrogate, he can only imagine what’s going through your own head now that it’s actually begun. He hopes that you aren’t having second thoughts, almost opens his mouth to ask before thinking better of it.

You’re entitled to your thoughts and feelings, whatever they may be, and if you wanted to talk to him about them, you would.

It’s not until the scenery outside starts to change and the fancy sky-scrapers give way to dingy apartment blocks and dilapidated buildings, crammed in together too tightly that he realises that it’s not discomfort that’s written across your face, but embarrassment.

This was your neighbourhood?

Shouta recognises it, and really he should have picked up on it earlier when you’d given him the address – he’s spent more than a few nights patrolling the area. It’s a hotspot, not for the high-class, dangerous villains plastered across the news every night, but thieves and murderers. Petty thugs who prey on the weak, those addicted, with nowhere else to go… you live here?

Surely with the money you’re getting from the agency, and your job on top of that, you can afford a better neighbourhood.

He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, watches as you all but shrink into your seat, and when you speak, your voice is little more than a whisper.

“You can just drop me off at the corner here.”

He pulls the car to a stop by the curb, and for a moment neither of you speak. He doesn’t know what to say, and judging from the way you’re nibbling on your bottom lip and glancing up at him, you don’t either.

“I–”

“Thank you,” you cut him off with a tight smile. “For coming today, and for… this. I-I really do appreciate it.”

The words aren’t quite sincere, but he only nods – noting the miniscule sigh that escapes your lips at the action. “Of course. Anytime you need us, just call, okay.” He waits for you to nod before continuing, “Do as the Doc said, rest.”

You all but scamper from the car after saying another goodbye, though Shouta waits until you’ve disappeared into the crumbling apartment block before driving off.

Maybe the inside is nicer, but he sincerely doubts it.

—

“You should’ve seen it, ‘Zashi.” The two of them are curled up on the love-seat, half empty containers of takeout littering the coffee table in front of them. “I just can’t figure out why she’d be living somewhere like that.”

The blonde frowns. He’d been messaging you throughout the afternoon, so he knew that the appointment had gone fine. It wasn’t that he expected to come home and find the erasure Hero jumping for joy, but the subtle discontent on Shouta’s face had been enough to make him pause.

“You’re worried about our ‘lil songbird?” he asks, pushing away just enough so that he could turn to study his face.

The short nod says plenty. Of course he is – even if you weren’t potentially carrying his child, you’re young, beautiful and far too innocent for your own good. In places like that, you were easy pickings, and you don’t even have a Quirk to protect yourself. His job requires him to assess his students’ strengths, their failings and weaknesses and their progress. He doesn’t need to see you in action to know that you wouldn’t be able to hold your own in a fight.

It bothers him.

“She’s not safe there.”

Hizashi hums, but instead of settling back against his husband’s side, he straightens up further. “Well, why don’t we go take a look-see, huh handsome? Make sure our sweet thing’s pad’s all safe ‘n sound, put your mind at ease. Whaddya say?”

As he stares into those imploring green eyes, Shouta knows that he should say no.

Concerned or not, there’s still a line, privacy that should be respected. He’s tired and this is the only night that they both have off this week. Your place is almost twenty minutes from theirs, and it’s already late – almost midnight. The list goes on, there are a thousand reasons that he should say no.

“Fine. Just for tonight.”

—

Two weeks later, the two Heroes receive a call from the agency; the blood test came back positive – you’re pregnant.

In the blink of an eye, at least to Shouta, this becomes startlingly real. You’re pregnant. They’re going to have a baby. Boy, girl, it doesn’t matter… You’re pregnant, and as his husband ends the call and yanks him by his collar into a fierce kiss, he realises how important this is.

How important you are, just by the virtue of carrying their baby.

They invite you over for dinner to celebrate, and while he’s never been one to flaunt the comfortable lifestyle he and Hizashi have, he does find it strangely pleasing to watch you wonder wide eyed through their apartment. He’d be the first to admit it’s big – bigger than they’d ever probably need, though with the baby on the way maybe they’ll finally be able to make use of all that extra space.

Mic grabs you by the hand, eagerly dragging you towards the nursery he’s already begun setting up. “Once I heard the good news, I just couldn’t wait to get started! Our little rockstar’s gonna have the sweetest crib, don’tcha think? Ain’t it amazing?”

He’s already started painting and there’s a wooden cot halfway assembled and the beginnings of a musical mobile pushed off to the side waiting for him to return to it. It’s hardly close to being finished, but you just grin, gazing at the mural he’s started on the walls. “It’s amazing,” you say.

“I knew ya’d like it!” he beams.

Shouta hangs back as Hizashi guides you through the rest of the apartment, chattering excitedly away. He likes seeing his husband happy, and somehow you manage to bring it out of him without even trying. It’s still early days but Shouta has to admit that already you’re more to him and Hizashi than he expected, or even anticipated. You fit well with them, seamlessly, as if you’d always been a part of their lives.

After dinner, they drive you home despite your protests, and Hizashi insists they walk you up to your apartment. You’re no doubt under the impression that they’re doing it to be gentlemanly, missing the shared looks between the two men as they pass the out of order elevator and tread down hallways with stained carpet and peeling wallpaper, ignoring the leering yellow eyes of your neighbour, peeking out from the crack in the doorway as they bid you goodnight, ‘Zashi squeezing you extra tight.

There’s an uncharacteristic hardness in his husband’s eyes as they both slip back into the car, “No way in hell are we lettin’ her stay here.”

On that at least, there’s no arguments from him.

—

Hizashi, unsurprisingly, is the one to bring it up.

The three of you are grabbing a bite to eat after your first ultrasound. This time, both of them had been insistent on being there, and he’s glad they were. Seeing that grainy image of their baby, hearing it’s heartbeat – strong and steady – had filled him with an emotion he’d never felt before.

It was happiness and excitement and wonder and awe all mixed up and wrapped into a gut punch that stole his breath away, and while Hizashi had burst into a loud fit of tears, burying his face in Shouta’s neck while reaching for your hand, he’d managed to keep his own at bay.

Mostly.

Regardless, you have little choice but to indulge them when they drag you out to one of the blonde’s favourite restaurants – on the proviso that they had you home in time to get ready for work.

“Songbird, there’s something the two of us have been meanin’ to ask ya.”

You perk up a little, hastily swallowing down your mouthful of food so you can reply, “Oh?”

He wonders if you notice the way your hand already instinctively drifts to your stomach, your barely there baby bump.

“Why’re ya livin’ in a place like that, sweetheart?” You freeze, the corners of your smile slipping, but Hizashi continues, “Ain’t the money from the agency enough? We know you’re working that other job as well… we just…”

Shouta can physically feel you tensing like a bunny caught in a trap, and he doesn’t know what possesses him to reach out, sliding a hand across the table as you pale, but you take it regardless.

“Talk to us. Please,” he begs. “We just want to understand what’s going on. You have to realise that it’s not exactly a safe neighbourhood, and it’s not just you we have to worry about anymore.” Dark eyes flicker pointedly towards your stomach.

It’s a dirty tactic, but that doesn’t mean it’s not the truth. Did you realise how much danger you were truly in? Not just from the common street thugs – though frankly he thinks it’s nothing short of a miracle that you’d managed to get this far unscathed – but any number of villains with a grudge against either one of them, or Heroes in general. If they found out a pretty, quirkless thing like you was carrying their baby, how long do you think it would take before they tracked you down and kicked through your door?

Your eyes flicker between the two of them, and you swallow shakily. “I-it’s…” you break off, taking a deep, steadying breath, “It’s all I can afford right now.”

“But, hun, what about–”

“I know,” you say. “The money for the surrogacy isn’t for me. It’s money I owe.”

Neither Hero speaks a word as you talk, telling them about your uncle, the man who raised you, how his business went under a few years back and you both lost almost everything.

Shouta isn’t surprised to find out that your uncle turned to loan sharks when the banks turned him away and threatened to take your house. Alarmed at the man’s blatant stupidity, yes, but not surprised. Your eyes start to water when you tell them about how he died a few months back – a hit and run – and the visit you were paid only a week later, informing you that your uncle’s debts were now yours, and payment had better come through quick.

Your hand’s trembling in his by the time you finish. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t have any options, I didn’t know how else to get the money, and they said that i-if I didn’t pay up, they-they’d–” a sob catches you unawares, and once again it’s Hizashi who’s out of his seat and at your side in a heartbeat, sliding into the booth beside you, pulling you into a one armed embrace.

It’s his eyes that you meet, and Shouta understands. He doesn’t need you to explain what threats were made. You were scared, terrified probably, and you had every right to be.

“I didn’t know what else to do,” you sniffle. “I’m sorry for lying to you.”

Really, he should be furious. Disappointed at the very least.

“Move in with us,” he says instead, ignoring your sudden, startled intake of breath. “At least until the baby comes.”

He should be, but this works better.

—

It takes a little longer than he’d like to convince you, but the two of them wear you down and a few weeks later Shouta finds himself carting boxes of your things up into the spare room in their apartment.

Despite the fact that you’re pregnant with their baby, you’re terrified of being a burden to the two Heroes, but it’s because of the baby that you eventually relent.

They want to be close, involved. They want to know that you’re safe – and their apartment’s state of the art security system will make sure of that when they’re not home with you. They want to make sure that you’re not exerting yourself, that you’re eating the right things and not running yourself ragged at a job you don’t need, stressing yourself out needlessly and putting the baby at risk.

All of that’s true.

It’s just not the entire reason.

At first, he convinces himself that it’s for Hizashi, as well as his own peace of mind, but he’s starting to wonder if that’s the full truth of it. Because of course he wants to keep a close eye on the pregnancy – he knows that this can’t be easy on you. You have no family left, and if you have any friends then they’ve done an excellent job of keeping you at arm's length.

You have nobody but them, and it does bring him some modicum of peace to know that you’re just down the hall if anything goes wrong.

Hizashi adores having you there with them, having somebody else to cook for, somebody to come home to at the end of a long day. More than a few times, they’ve both returned from a night of patrolling to find you curled up on the couch, fast asleep with a blanket over your legs and a book slipping from your fingers, having tried, and failed, to wait up from them.

You tune into Mic’s radio show on the nights you can’t sleep, and on the odd mornings that you wake up before either of them, they come downstairs to find bacon sizzling away in the pan, a pot of coffee already brewing. There’s something oddly charming about the way you pout while you pour it for them, knowing you can’t have any yourself.

“You’re a special kind of masochist, ya know?” Hizashi teases, sidling up beside you to grab a cup.

You sigh dejectedly. “I must be,” you reply as he plants a kiss on your cheek and squeezes your side affectionately, but it’s impossible to miss the sparkle in your eyes. You’re happy here, with them.

Shouta warns you from pushing yourself too much, but even he can notice the apartment’s tidier when they arrive home than when they left, the freshly baked goods sitting on the countertop that weren’t there yesterday.

“I just… I know I can’t pay you back for all of this, I just wanna make myself useful,” you tell him one night when he asks about it. “I still feel like I’m taking advantage of the both of you, staying here…”

“You’re carrying our baby, that’s enough,” he reminds you, his calm, steady voice brooking no disagreement. And yet, as dark eyes study your face, he can tell that it’s not enough for you, so he sighs, and in a quiet voice adds, “We like having you here.”

He likes having you there. Sitting at the dining room table, helping him grade papers, lounging around on their rare days off together – helping Mic set up the nursery, volunteering to go shopping with them for baby stuff. He’s lost count of how many pregnancy books you’ve bought, pouring over them with a fine tooth comb late at night – often falling asleep in the process, leaving him and Hizashi to carry you off to bed with a barely there kiss to your forehead.

You fit between them in a way he hadn’t quite expected. Not a burden, not an interloper, but as if there was always a place carved out for you with them, and it’s only now that they realise that there was something missing to begin with.

It doesn’t quite click until he finds his thoughts drifting towards you at work, his fingers drumming along the top of his desk so he can stop himself from reaching for his phone. He’s not usually so distracted teaching, and as the hours drag he finds himself glancing towards the clock on the wall, counting down the hours, minutes, until the day is done and they can return home to you.

Shouta can’t pretend for much longer that there isn’t something oddly satisfying watching your belly grow and your breasts swell as your pregnancy goes on. You’re glowing, and soft and beautiful, and he could kid himself and say that it’s just the normal effects of pregnancy, but there’s some part of him that’s strangely proud when your shirt rides up and he catches a glimpse of your baby bump – knowing it’s his child you’re carrying. His and ‘Zashi’s and yours.

And oh, he wishes that it was only pride that burns through his veins at the sight of you, barefoot and pregnant, pottering around the apartment. Hizashi’s the one to hold back your hair and rub your back soothingly when your morning sickness hits, but it’s Shouta who takes care of you when you start complaining about aching muscles and joints.

He tells himself that it’s purely about comfort, namely yours, ignoring the way you flush and stutter when he drags you up the stairs and pushes you gently towards the bed, telling you to lie down on your side.

It’s just a massage, yet the moment his fingers run along your soft skin and a breathy moan slips from parted lips, the very last vestiges of the facade he’d built up in his head crumble into dust.

You’re perfection. Bared and beautiful beneath him, making the prettiest noises for him as he works away at your muscles, expertly releasing all of your tension. He’s glad that your eyes are shut and you’re lost to the bliss, you don’t notice the way his breath hitches and becomes rough and heavy, the way his cock twitches in his sweats, blood flowing south as you arc into his touch.

Such a responsive little thing, aren’t you?

“You’re amazing,” you moan, and though you can’t see that either, Shouta smirks. “Please never stop.”

It’s a good thing he has restraint, because it’s taking absolutely all of his to stop himself from taking more.

He wants all of you.

Wants to tease and taste.

Take.

Wants to hear those pretty fucking moans take the shape of his name… Hizashi’s name.

And maybe he might have felt guilty for those perverse thoughts, for the way he wants to tear the rest of your clothes off and fuck you nice and proper, breed you–

If his husband hadn't been standing by the door, watching the two of you for the last ten minutes. Shouta doesn’t need to look to know that it’s not anger or jealousy burning in his gaze.

He knows that his husband’s far from disgusted, knows it from the way Hizashi grabs his wrist on his way back down the hallway, pulling him instead to their bedroom and shoving him back onto the mattress with a wicked grin.

There’s something positively feral in the blonde’s expression as he hovers over him, forcing Shouta back down with a hand splayed across his chest, the other reaching down to his sweats to free his aching, needy cock.

“You’ve been holding out on me, baby,” he sings.

—

They have time.

Your due date is still months away, and you’re comfortable, here with them.

There’s no reason for you to consider leaving until the baby’s born, and Shouta is adamant about keeping it that way. Hizashi can huff and puff and moan all he likes, he knows that they have to take this thing with you slowly. He won’t risk spooking you and losing any chance they have.

That’s not to say that he doesn’t empathise with the blonde, what with all the affectionate hugs and touches you thoughtlessly bestow, the way you’ll plonk yourself down on the couch between them so they can feel when the baby’s kicking.

Hizashi’s gotten to the stage where he’ll drop to his knees to shower your stomach in kisses when he gets home of an evening before sweeping you up into a hug of your own, his face a mask of perfect innocence when he catches sight of his husband’s less than impressed expression over your shoulder.

Having you here with them, this little temporary faux family dynamic the three of you have found yourselves in is easy, domestic and nice. It should be enough, but it’s not.

“It’ll be weird, going home after this,” you hum absentmindedly one night.

Preoccupied with the noodles you’re toying with in your bowl, you miss the sharp look shared between both men.

“Whaddya mean, sweetheart?”

If you notice the odd stiffness to the words, you pay it no mind, simply shrugging. “I mean once the baby’s born. I dunno, I think I’ve become too comfortable here freeloading off of the two of you…” you glance up, smiling a little. “Going back to work and finding a place on my own again, starting fresh, it’ll be different, that’s all. Not bad different,” you hasten to clarify at the blonde’s nearly stricken face, “just… different.”

“Well it’s not like we’re gonna be forcing ya out, hun! You’re always welcome to jam with us for as long as you want.”

You shake your head with a rueful little laugh, “We both know I can’t do that. You’ll have the baby to worry about and the last thing I want is to feel like some awkward interloper, always getting in the way – especially after everything you guys have done for me.”

Hizashi’s fingers dig into the meat of his thigh, tightening with every word out of your mouth.

“No,” you say, shaking your head. “I’m not saying I’m never going to come around to hang out or anything, but once this baby comes I’m gonna have to figure out what I’m going to do with my life.” Your eyes meet his, wide and hopeful, and Shouta’s reminded once again of just how young you really are. “I can go anywhere, do anything. It’s kind of exciting, don't you think?”

It was a mistake, to think that you’d come around to them on your own.

You were young and naive, still living out a rose tinted fantasy where the world was your oyster and all you needed to do was reach out and take it. And maybe he’s partially to blame for that, taking your problems and getting rid of them, making you feel safe and comfortable, not realising that that security didn’t extend outside of these four walls, outside of their protection.

They need you, but kitten did you ever stop to think that you need them, too?

Shouta had made the mistake of forgetting how this all came to be – you hadn’t wanted a family, you were just trying to save your own skin. You still think that you can make it on your own, without them.

He supposes he shouldn’t blame you for your misplaced idealism, it’s only natural after all. Some people just don’t know what’s best for them.

They need to be shown.

—

You don’t stir as your bedroom door swings open.

Not as Hizashi pulls back your sheets, groaning softly at the sight of your swollen breasts and precious baby bump, stretching against the confines of your silk pajamas. “Ain’t she a fuckin’ dream, Shou?”

Not as the blonde busies himself in carefully sliding your sleep shorts down your legs, or even as Aizawa gathers up your wrists, pressing a kiss to each one, and binds them to the headboard with his capture weapon.

“Gentle, ‘Zashi,” he murmurs when the blonde crawls up on the bed beside you. “Nothing too rough.”

You wake as long fingers caress your cheek, tilting your face towards him so he can kiss you properly.

Shouta hadn’t bothered to turn on the lights, but bathed under the soft glow of moonlight from your window, he watches your eyes flutter open, the momentary confusion that flashes across your face followed by realisation, horror, as you try to jerk back and cry out–

Only Hizashi doesn’t give you the opportunity, winding his hand through your tresses and anchoring you against him, forcing your lips open so that he can deepen the kiss and groaning appreciatively when a terrified whimper escapes you.

You still haven’t noticed Shouta kneeling on the bed between your legs, too preoccupied by Hizashi’s tongue sliding against yours. “Relax, kitten,” he says, laying his palm on your thigh, letting his thumb glide over the smooth skin.

“Let us take care of our cute ‘lil baby mama, yeah songbird?” Hizashi adds, breaking away from the kiss with a lovesick grin.

Tonight is solely about you. Your pleasure, whether they have to tease it from you willingly or not.

Your tears are kissed away, your broken little pleas swallowed under ‘Zashi’s greedy lips as Shouta shuffles down the bed, nudging your thighs further apart so he can lie between them.

The keening cry that leaves you at the first stroke of his tongue against your warm sex is a thing of beauty.

Blood rushes to his cock as you writhe, and he tightens his grip as much as he dares to keep you locked in place as he delves in again. There’s little finesse to the way that Shouta eats your pussy – it’s a simple study of reactions; the way you gasp and shudder when the tip of his tongue circles your clit, the way your pussy clench and quiver around the muscle when he eases it inside of you, massaging your spongy walls.

Never one to be left out, Hizashi decides that there’s a better use of his attention than just your lips. With your arms bound, he’s not able to take your top off entirely so he settles with yanking it down, freeing your breasts.

“Fuck baby, you’re so pretty. Look atcha!”

Your tits must be tender and aching, because the moment Hizashi’s mouth envelops one of your nipples, sucking at the pert nub, a fresh sob bursts from your lungs and you’re trying desperately to wriggle away.

Hizashi just frowns, breaking away for a second to brush a stray lock of hair back behind your ear, “Ah shit, sorry babe! I’ll be gentle, promise.”

Shouta’s far too preoccupied by the intoxicating taste of your sweet cunt to notice whether he actually does or not, but he trusts him not to push you too far. There’ll be plenty of time for that later.

Your baby bump is cute and all, but Shouta wishes that it wasn’t blocking his view of your face – he wants to watch every little expression as he slides two thick fingers into your dripping cunt and your hips buck up to meet him. It’s a twisted kind of pride he feels, pride fused with filthy, maddening pleasure as he pulls a string of choked moans from you with just a few shallow thrusts of his fingers.

His jaw’s slicked with your juices, your cunt sucking his fingers deeper when he turns his attention back to your poor, neglected clit. He can tell that you’re close, not just from the needy whimpers and the way your muscles are tensing beneath him, but the desperate canting of your hips, rocking up against his face even as you beg for relief.

“Shouta, Shouta, please– oh god, please stop, p-please!”

He longs to wrap a fist around his throbbing cock, desperate to help relieve the burning ache deep in his gut as you cum for the first time on his tongue. Or better yet, maybe have Hizashi wrap that perfect mouth of his around his cock and suck him off–

But now’s not the time for him to be greedy.

Rough fingertips prod at your walls, searching for that hidden little spot that’s gonna make you go wild–

You almost convulse when he finds it, and Shouta can’t help but smirk against your cunt as you tighten and quiver around his digits. With Hizashi playing with your tits, pressing hot, open mouthed kisses along your neck, Shouta’s lips wrapped around your clit, tongue flicking at the sensitive pearl as he suckles on it and long, thick fingers driving you to madness with each and every stroke, it’s too much for your poor, pregnant, oversensitive body to handle.

You cum with a strangled shriek, and Shouta almost moans at the flood of juices that gush from your trembling cunt onto his waiting tongue.

“How’s she taste, baby?” Hizashi asks, green eyes blown wide, his own erection straining against his leather pants.

Shouta doesn’t waste a beat, pushing himself up with one arm and grabbing his husband’s wrist with the other, yanking him into a fierce kiss – letting him taste your honeyed juices on his tongue.

Fingers tangle in dark locks, tugging him closer, and ‘Zashi lets out a low, throaty groan. It’s rough and eager, a slow burning frenzy that makes the blood in his veins sing with excitement. With their lips still locked, the blonde hastily yanks at the zipper on his pants, freeing the painfully hard member with a tight hiss.

But when he finally does break for air, it’s not Shouta that he addresses, but you, lying spent, crying and breathless between them, beautiful in your fucked out state.

“You can’t expect to put on a show like that and not get me all worked up, sweet thing,” he coos, taking his flushed, throbbing cock in hand and giving it a few slow, cursory pumps. “I’m gonna fuck ya so good, baby – have you singin’ like a little birdie for me,” his eyes meet Shouta’s, a wicked smirk tugging at his lips. “Nothin’ but the best for our cute ‘lil wife. Whaddya say, songbird? Lemme make you feel all nice and special, yeah?”

#yandere bnha #yandere shouta aizawa #yandere hizashi yamada #yandere erasermic #yandere shouta aizawa x reader #yandere hizashi yamada x reader #shouta aizawa x hizashi yamada x reader #tw non con #tw pregnancy #tw breeding kink #tw age gap #oh my god it's like 5am why do i keep doing this to myself

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drundertalescum · 4 years ago

Text

The Scene With Undyne Sitting Across The Table From You: An Analysis

So Undyne lied to Papyrus. She led him on about the Guard, and she wasn’t honest with him. She didn’t actually train him. She was never going to let him in the guard.

We all know this.

I think something that people don’t think about, though, is the rest of that conversation, and Why she handled that situation the way she did. This is something I have fallen into a lot, too, because Papyrus is my favorite and I have a bad habit of focusing on him… but I think I wanna explore this from Undyne’s point of view instead.

Because it’s really interesting, isn’t it?

Throughout the game, Undyne is otherwise portrayed as being as empathetic as she is direct. There is no problem that she can’t suplex or headbutt! She’ll eat a rock! She’ll fight the sun! But she won’t tell Papyrus she can’t let him into the guard.

A lot of the time, I think we read this conversation as being revealing of who Papyrus is. It gets used a lot as fuel to infantilize him. In fact, seeing something about that is actually why I wanted to write this. Additionally, this conversation where she reveals this is where she tells us about Asgore’s sadness, his fatherly tendencies and his strength and his nature beyond being the not-so-final boss.

[Image Description: Undyne is sitting across the table from you. You’re in her house. The window’s been smashed, and the table, too, with a spear sticking out of it, and she’s left some things on the stove and theres just a sword in the middle of her floor, but it’s calm for now. Various things are left on her counter. You’re both drinking tea.]

But this is Undyne’s conversation on Undyne’s hangout and this conversation is meant to make us understand Undyne.

So, here’s my take:

I think Undyne is not good with emotions beyond the obvious, and she uses others and their experiences and emotions as examples and ways to understand and work through her own emotions and complicated, shifting thoughts. She’s not gonna tell a human kid her anxieties, because thats not the kind of person she is. She’s direct whenever she can be, but these are not matters she can be direct with. She’s a fighter, not a philosopher.

She starts this conversation by telling you you remind her of Asgore, because...

[Image Description: Undyne is sitting across the table from you. She’s throwing her head back laughing at you, probably obnoxiously. She says “You’re both TOTAL weenies!!!” with three exclamation points, and “total” in all caps.]

She calls Asgore a TOTAL WEENIE, then relents, and says he’s not a weenie all of the time. That’s when she tells us the story of how she tried to beat him up when she was little, to prove she was the strongest, and how that leads her to become his apprentice, and how she eventually knocked him down.

[Image Description: Undyne is sitting across the table from you. Her eyes are closed, her head is bowed. She says “I felt… bad.”]

She felt bad.

Undyne is expressing with that that she used to value strength above all else, and viewed the world through that very narrow lens. She’s surpassed Asgore, at least in one match, and that should have been a victory for her, but instead the situation lead to an emotion she hadn’t expected: She felt bad. And Asgore was so proud of her.

And then she tells us about Papyrus, and this is the same thought as the other story, because she’s expressing that the role she’s taken on as Head of the Royal Guard is her graduating to a leadership position like Asgore’s.

[Image Description: Undyne is sitting across the table from you. She says “So I’m the one who gets to train dorks to fight!” She’s throwing her head back laughing. Not at you this time.]

She introduces Papyrus to this story then, and starts with saying she doesn’t know if she could ever let him in.

I think an important phrasing there is that she doesn’t know. This is not a solid open and shut decision. She hesitates and stumbles over this admission. She does not know if she’s going to let him in. She doesn’t think she is, but she doesn’t know.

She’s stuck. I know you could say this is just a matter of phrasing, and might not seem significant, but the way she stumbles over explaining herself, its like she’s trying to work out right now exactly why she won’t let him in. And she’s maybe only realizing now that the answer was always going to be no.

[Image Description: Undyne is sitting across the table from you. She says “I mean, it’s not that he’s weak.” She’s grinning... but she’s sweating it out a little.]

[Image Description: Undyne is sitting across the table from you. She says “He’s actually pretty freaking tough!” Her eyes bulge with passion! ]

She’s quick to say its not that he’s weak, and that he’s pretty freaking tough - really strong praise from Undyne, who just called you and the King of All Monsters total weenies - and then she starts talking about how he’s too innocent and nice! And how he was supposed to capture you, but ended up being friends with you instead!!!

And… again, a lot of people are quick to read this as a flaw in Papyrus. A fully literal assessment of him by Undyne. But is it?

There is a reason she’s telling you this.

There’s a reason she’s emphasizing this to you: Look where she is right now.

[Image Description: Undyne is sitting across the table from you.]

She was supposed to capture you.

But instead, she’s making friends with you.

If this is a flaw in Papyrus, this scene is her admitting to herself and to you, that this is a flaw that exists in her too.

But also, this scene, with her stumbling over herself talking about weakness, strength, weenies, not weenies… is her also realizing, through Papyrus, through Asgore through you:

This was never a flaw at all.

She’s different than Papyrus. She goes harder. She’s more willing to kill you. She’s more willing to push forward. But this scene is her coming to terms with a hesitation she’s been struggling with, a bad feeling when she finally makes her opponent fall, an urge she doesn’t seem to have fully thought through to teach Papyrus something else. This wasn’t a long term plan. There was no long term plan. She doesn’t know if she can ever let him in. She’s trying to delay having to make that decision, because she doesn’t fully understand the decision, or at least she didn’t until right now, sitting down across from the enemy and sharing something she’s always shared with someone she very much cares about.

Undyne didn’t know how to deal with the fact that she might not want to go to war after all, until the very moment that became an option. It was abstract before. It was easy before. But she’s had her doubts and finally now she understands them. And she’s trying to express this to you now at the same time as she’s trying to understand it.

And now that all this is out of the way and she can stop thinking about it, she’s going to work on befriending you AS HARD AS SHE CAN!!!

[Image Description: Undyne is no longer sitting across the table from you. She has lept onto the counter behind her, and knocked everything to the floor. She’s thrown her head back and is grinning widely, challenging you to cook with her! “Fuhuhu!!! Afraid!?” she asks, and you can tell from her punctuation that she’s very excited about this. “We’re gonna be best friends!!!” ]

Anyway, I love Undyne, and I felt like this was a scene that needed more attention in her direction, because it’s not about Asgore and it’s not about Papyrus. It’s about her, our terrifying new bestie.

(also thank you @weia-yo for helping me with analyzing this scene months ago. Only just now had the necessary spoons to write it up)

#analysis #character analysis #undyne #asgore #papyrus #mine #my articles #salt #kinda not really #i saw salt and it reminded me of this #and was fuel for this #this is salt powered but its not salt

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thefanficmonster · 4 years ago

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will you do an oompaville x reader.? like maybe one where you’re at a wedding with him and he asks you to dance.?

Omg an oompaville request!!! I'm so grateful dear! Thank you so much for your lovely request, please enjoy the one-shot 🥰

Perfect Sync

Pairing: Oompaville (Caleb) x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: None

Genre: FLUFF, RPF (Real Person Fic)

There are certain pros and cons to being so distanced from your extended family. And I mean DISTANCED, in all capitals. I actually live in a completely different state on the completely opposite side of the US and yet I still somehow got an invitation to my cousin's wedding. To be fair, it's not that surprising, seeing as how she's the only cousin I have comprehendible memories with from my childhood. She's a really sweet girl - no, woman - and it kinda sucks that we haven't had the chance to catch up in so long.

Among the many other cons is the fact that I don't know a single person at this wedding. Not. A. Single. Person. Sure, there have been several elderly and middle aged couples who've approached me, claiming they know me and given me a huge hug, asking me how my parents were doing. Speaking of my parents, they are a pair of sneaks who avoided coming to the wedding themselves saying they were stuck with a stomach virus while they're actually vacationing in Canada. How wonderful of them, don't you think?

They are chilling in Canada and I'm over here boiling and sweating over my third, possibly forth glass of champagne of the evening, not to mention the wedding hasn't even properly started yet. Count on me switching to whiskey when it does.

Sitting at the table I was pointed to upon arrival, I let my gaze skim over the immense garden decorated with beautiful flowers, fairy lights and handmade décor pieces. Each table and bar is under a white tent, just like the one I’m currently sitting under. It’s a beautiful sight and I can only imagine it’s only gonna get even prettier when the sun finally sets completely and all these fairy lights come on. That’s one of the few good things about my attendance at this event today. The ‘good’ things have been so little in number I can probably count them on the fingers of one hand: 1.I briefly saw and chatted with my cousin who was practically trembling out of excitement, anxiety and happiness. Good for her; 2. I’ve downed so many drinks that would probably cost me a fortune at a club or bar and I’m decently buzzed. Very cool; 3. I made friends with one of the bridesmaids because I had time to kill - turns out she wanted to be at this wedding as much as me: not at all; 4. I caught a whiff of the dinner which was still being cooked and damn am I excited about it; 5. The garden is absolutely breathtaking and it’s a sight worth sticking around for. See, as I said, few enough good things to be able to count them on the fingers of one hand.

And what about that cute guy from earlier?, my subconsciousness nudges me teasingly, causing me to almost evidently roll my eyes.

The hot guy being referred to right now is the one I damn near ran over when I was pulling up to this fancy estate. In my defense, I’m still getting used to the rental car I got when I landed in Texas two days ago, and plus he came out of literally nowhere. Luckily, he wasn’t mean or upset about it, took it quite lightly which was relieving and surprising.

Not gonna lie though, he was really cute.

I see the people all over the garden hurriedly take a seat when it gets announced that the newly weds are about to have their first dance. I cross my legs, finishing the champagne in one go before I can focus my attention on the lovely couple that’s just stepped out of the mansion-like house and onto the soft grass of the lawn, slowly making their way towards the center where they’re supposed to have the dance - aka where everyone will be dancing afterwards too.

Everyone but me, I’ll be busy chilling by the bar, hopefully in the company of that bridesmaid who I can crack jokes with without feeling guilty.

The two dance in perfect sync, their movements almost mesmerizing to the human eye. I’m no professional dancer but I don’t have two left feet either, yet I’m still amazed by this perfection before me. I bet all the cash I took with me from New York - which is a lot, I expected to spend a lot - that they’ve practiced this more than once. Or at least I hope they have as to make me feel better about my own skills - or the lack thereof.

“I take it you’re a lot less dangerous when you’re not behind the wheel.“ A quiet comment emerges next to my ear, loud enough for me to hear but hushed as to not disturb the couple nor the mob of people watching them in awe.

My eyebrows shoot up. I’ve maybe heard that voice only once before but that teasing tone made me blush like mad earlier and that’s hard to forget. I have a hard time forgetting embarrassment.

Biting my lip, I slowly turn to face him, “I can’t guarantee, there are plenty of sharp objects around after all.“

There’s that same wide smile I saw earlier when my entire life flashed before my eyes. His probably did too but unlike me, he didn’t show it. “Some luck I have sitting next to you then.“ He chuckles, handing me a glass of whiskey. I take it hesitantly, giving him a suspiciously raised eyebrow. “You look like you could use one.“ He shrugs, taking a sip of his own. When my expression doesn’t change and I don’t make a move to ingest the beverage, he rolls his eyes, “Yeah I’m someone you’re seeing for the second time in your life, and yeah you might think I could want revenge for my nearly damaged health, but I don’t. And if you don’t want the whiskey...” he reaches to take it back but I quickly put it up to my lips and take a long sip, causing him to smile. “There you go!”

Oh boy does the taste of whiskey hit different after sipping on champagne for hours. I nod to him in gratitude. “Thanks, I strongly appreciate this.”

He nods back, his smile now a smaller one but still preserving the same amount of joy as when it was a full-blown grin, “I’m Caleb, by the way.”

“Y/N, nice to meet you.“ I reply, feeling the tension in my shoulders easing and the embarrassed blush fading. This guy just has such a chill aura, it’s nice being in his company. Hell, I’ll even go as far as to say if I simply had to almost hit someone with my car today, I’m glad it was him.

As more and more people emerge from their seats, heading hand in hand to the dancefloor to join the newlyweds, I finish my whiskey and am contemplating on going to get myself another but before I can decide, Caleb arises from his seat as well. He takes a stand in front of me, offering me his hand, “Well, there’s very little damage you can do you me out on the dancefloor, right?” He chuckles when he sees he’s made me blush again - third time today, damn it - but then he assumes a more serious facial expression, his smile never faltering though, “Care to accompany me for a dance, Y/N?”

I pretend to think the offer over, weighing my options and its pros and cons when in reality I dam near accepted the same second he asked. “Hmm, ok...“ I say finally, resting my hand in his, “That is, if you promise not to step on my feet. These are some expensive shoes I’m wearing.“

He lets out a genuine laugh as he leads us to the dancefloor, one that I’ll admit is hella contagious, “Says the person who almost ran my ass over earlier. Am I not expensive, huh?”

I give him a confused look, hiding fits of laughter, “I don’t know, Caleb. Are you?”

He shakes his head, “Nah, best offer you’d get for me on Craigslist is like, a dollar? Two if you’re lucky.”

And that’s all it takes to break the dam holding back my laughter, sending me in fits of giggles as we start dancing. My laughter ends just as quickly as it starts though when I realize how in-sync our dancing is. Perfectly synchronized.

Huh, wonder why, that annoying voice pokes at my peace again. But I don’t let it get to me. Not now at least. I’m just gonna enjoy this moment, dancing with a practical stranger, gazing into his warm and welcoming eyes.

Suddenly I need another hand to count the good things about this wedding since I have to add three new points: 6. Almost hitting Caleb with my car; 7. Officially meeting Caleb; 8. Dancing with him.

Dancing with him in perfect sync

Oh, shut it, I don’t wanna start blushing again.

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aquilaofarkham · 4 years ago

Photo

title: mishpachah rating: T+ word count: 3,085 summary: Five years after rebuilding the manor—and the birth of a new Belmont into the world—Trevor decides to share an old recipe with his newfound family.

For @fibulaa 💛 Thanks so much for commissioning me!

READ HERE

The first bread Trevor Belmont ate while living his newly orphaned vagabond life was so dry it cut at the inner walls of his throat. He swallowed each bite with grimace after grimace, knowing that despite the pain, the already hardened child of thirteen could stave off starvation for a little while longer. Until he tasted the faintest tinge of copper on his ruined tongue.

Putting those years far behind, he now stands in front of a wooden counter, blurry eyed and with a yawn reminiscent of a sun drunk cat. It seems clean at first glance but in every corner Trevor notices fragments of past meals which he tried wiping away once they were finished and placed on a more pristine table meant for family. Bits of salt, half minced vegetables, and crumbs of bread much softer than the ones belonging to a later childhood he would rather forget. This kitchen, warm in its early morning sunlight, was the final instalment of the manor, newly risen from the ashes. Or rather, simply rebuilt thanks to the calloused, blistered, and splintered hands. No more ruined stone, no more fire blackened beams holding together little less than an architectural skeleton. The somewhat mirror image of Trevor’s lost home has been faring better than the castle. Too many memories, fresh, ranging from bitter to incomprehensible.

Slowly, he grows conscious of his surroundings and his own self. A continuing habit of being the first to wake not just in this manor hold but in life. Reluctantly opening his eyes prior to dawn covering the landscape while still traveling alone only to drag a pair of worn boots back along a similar muddy road. Trevor never wanted to wake up before the sun. He just couldn’t bear to stay in the same place for much longer whether due to the laundry list of dangers or more often than not, his newfound hatred of whichever backwater hamlet he unfortunately found himself in.

He’s happy to wake up early. Happy to never feel a need to leave or escape, happy to know that lack of food replaced with pints of liquid pleasure mixed with death will never plague him again. Happy to prepare breakfast in a hot iron pot over a well stoked fire. What he thought he lost forever has come back, along with new additions to the family he’s carved out.

Another presence bounds her way into the kitchen and ambushes Trevor from behind. He’s not old—not yet, he’ll give it time—but years of drinking have made their permanent stay, dulling the more acute senses. Makes it easier for a five-year-old to catch him off guard. Trevor’s eyes bolt open as tiny arms hold him in a tight cage.

“Good morning, papa!”

His ears ring at the sound of Mirele’s loud voice, but at least he won’t have to worry about nodding off. He stares down at the youngest Belmont who looks as though someone had split Trevor and Sypha straight down their centres into four pieces and sewed each differing half onto the other in order to create a new person. A homunculi of messy dark chocolate hair, bright eyes shining with blue ice, full rosy cheeks somehow conspicuously smeared with some sort of dirt or jam, and enough energy to wear out an electric powered jackrabbit.

“How’s my little monster doing this morning?” Everything Trevor says is laced with his own personal touch of affection and Mirele loves it.

“Mama and papa are still asleep. Help me wake them up! Pleaseeee?”

This doesn’t surprise him; Sypha has always preferred to savour her last moments of sleep longer than normal and Alucard is… well, Alucard.

“Tell you what.” Trevor places a lid onto the simmering pot with a heavy clank. “While this heats up for our breakfast, we’ll go wake up those lazy bones.”

“Right!” Hand in smaller hand, the two make their way upstairs into the shadowy master bedchamber. Curtains drawn with only a sliver of light cutting its singular path across the floor and over two distinct lumps covered by blankets and furs. They seem conjoined, linked in each other’s arms, unaware that a third party has been missing for long enough. Mirele plunges into the room first, jumping onto the bed as all children do when parents refuse to join the land of the conscious. She playfully shoves and cuddles her way between the two bodies who sink deeper beneath the covers, lazily moaning like ghosts.

“Mama! Papa! Wake up! It’s time to get up!”

Trevor hopes that his tactic of throwing open the weighted curtains works in a more effective manner. Listening to the rising chorus of wordless protests coming from behind, he’s pleased with the results. “Never thought I would be the one setting a good example for our daughter.”

“Do not get cheeky, especially this early.” Sypha’s response spills out like running water. It’s clear her mind isn’t quite all there yet. But she can scoop Mirele into her arms, find every ticklish spot, and illicit giggles that only canines might hear. “At least we both know how to have fun, right my sweet?”

“Vampires… nocturnal…” A deeper, muffled voice emerges from under one of the pillows.

“Something you’d like to share with us, Alucard?” Trevor quips, amused at how the other father of the household can never seem to shake off his morning dishevelment. Perhaps sleeping in a coffin would help—a very large one so he doesn’t have to be alone. Alucard reluctantly removes the pillow as tangled heaps of gold fall over his face.

“Vampires are supposed to be nocturnal. Would you rather I burst into ashes upon contact with the sun? Think of our girls, Trevor.”

“We’ve all seen you in the sun before, it’s about as dangerous as a clove of garlic.”

“I have my own means of physical protection. Far beyond your measly human comprehension, love.”

“Personally, I’ve been able to comprehend you plenty.”

Mirele stares up at Sypha, her bushy brows furrowed. “What does… comp… sshhheshion mean?”

“It’s just another word your fathers use whenever either of them want to feel smart.”

Alucard gives Sypha a gentle pinch on either side of her abdomen. “I thought you were on my side.”

“What about my side?” Trevor asks, excelling at the greatest strength he possesses��the ability to never take anything seriously, only when he must.

“I’m hungry,” Mirele speaks up. “Hungry and bored. Can we eat now?”

This life is not normal, but then again it is. It always has been for them. Normal once meant coming together because of violence, encroaching darkness, and some flimsy prophecy stringing them along one dead body at a time. A prophecy which never said what had to be done after they followed it to the hard earned letter. Perhaps that’s why Trevor, Sypha, and Alucard floundered afterwards. No instruction on how to live their upturned lives.

Fuck prophecy.

They made this life by their own standards and in accordance with their own desires. They loved how they wanted to love and no prophecy could have foreseen Mirele. How she calls for her father while both Trevor and Alucard turn their heads at the same exact second. How she quickly calms herself when presented with a bowl of warm oatmeal drowning in honey and wild fruits hand plucked from the surrounding forest. But it’s not enough. Nothing ever is for someone always growing, always wanting more from life at such a young age.

“Can I have bread?”

Trevor, half way through his bitter coffee, turns to Sypha then Alucard as all three parental figures exchange glances. They haven’t the heart to tell Mirele. No bread at the ready, only the necessary ingredients and a considerable amount of flour bags to blanket Enisala. There’s the option of making it themselves, yet it depends on a certain someone’s capacity for patience.

“How do you feel about baking our own?” Trevor’s voice wavers, which he tries to mask with his characteristic dry tone. It’s been a long time since he’s made bread. Then again, helping the manor cooks was a somewhat selfish endeavour as it meant extra servings for the baby of the Belmonts. Yet his proposal goes over well with Mirele, whose inherited eyes light up at the prospect of trying something new.

“I wanna make bread! Can we? Can we please?”

“When was the last time you baked anything, Trevor?” Alucard asks, genuinely curious and with a healthy dose of skepticism. “You still won’t tell us much about anything concerning your former life, let alone the sort of foods your family ate.”

Trevor feels a twinge in his gut—still better than a punch. His two lovers, even his daughter, they only know of his mother; a matriarch in her own right. They know her name, the monsters she killed, and not much else. Trevor’s excuses: he doesn’t remember anything about her, despite the fact that he does. He didn’t know her for very long or very well, so there’s no point in missing her. Trevor did know Sonia and he does miss her, sometimes more than he can handle. Then the easiest excuse: it’s just another self-preservation tactic.

Out of this inner reflection comes an idea. It breaks tradition in a way. For the Belmonts and other Jewish families, everything is passed down through the mother—recipes, forms of worship, blood memories, centuries old tactics of bruising one’s knuckles and temples. Trevor doesn’t think this slight deviation from his culture’s norm will make him any less of what he’s always been. Mirele will simply have to pick up where he left off when she’s grown.

He doesn’t want to think about that now. She’s only five after all. One lesson at a time.

“Alright. Gather round, pupils. The bread we’re making isn’t just any bread. Forget everything you know and everything you’ve been taught because this will be the closest thing to heaven you’ll ever taste.”

“How dramatic…” Sypha mutters under her breath. Alucard joins her amusement with a subdued chuckle.

“I believe you were partially his influence.”

Trevor knows how much trouble he’ll be in if he puts Mirele through the most agonizing cruelty of waiting a second longer than necessary. Fearful of her pint-sized wrath, he gives everyone the order to start gathering ingredients: flour, eggs, honey, and some indulgent herbs to make this particular bread something special. As much of a strategic leader in the kitchen as he is when the world is coming to an end. With everything spread out on the countertops, Trevor guides his family step by step through the only recipe he remembers. He calls this bread “challah”, which Mirele immediately strains her freshly green vocal chords, trying to pronounce the word exactly as her father does. She quickly gives up and focuses on mixing the ingredients with an intense look—almost to a fault as bits of sloppy dough fly out of the bowl. Good. This enthusiasm is what Trevor wants to see.

Kneaded and allowed time to rise, the next step is the most important. Trevor divides the dough into four halves, then again, and again until each participant has their own handful of raw unbaked strips.

“We have to braid them?” Mirele asks following his explanation.

“That’s right. It’s what makes this bread different from all the rest.”

“Just like when papa let’s me braid his pretty hair!”

Every pair of eyes turns to Alucard, whose smile widens in that way which causes his eyes to shut tightly. Fangs happily bared as he pulls Mirele into his flour and dough covered arms while she giggles in delight. After they all return to work, her loaf turns out the same way as the braids she gives to him—lopsided, uneven, lacking a few outsticking stray hairs, but filled with affection and genuine resolve.

Three loaves are placed into the oven, including a fourth crudely constructed but still adequately done piece. Mirele is now more willing to play the waiting game—so she claims. Sitting in front of the oven while staring directly into its insides, utterly fascinated, oblivious to her surroundings. Unaware that her three parents are whispering behind her back. Eventually, Sypha has to gently pull her away with her bottom dragging along the kitchen floor.

“How about you and I do something a little more interesting while your fathers keep watch over things.”

“But what about the c… the calla!”

“Don’t worry, they will look after it. And we are not going far, my sweet.”

“We’ll make sure nothing burns down.” Trevor assures, despite it being Sypha who usually revels in cinders and ashes, intentionally or not.

The two retreat down the corridor past diamond shaped stained windows and into one of the manor’s smaller libraries where the cabinets reach the high ceiling painted in deep blue hues. Scattered from corner to corner are constellations of stars and midnight clouds obscuring each phase of the moon. Once when Alucard found Mirele curiously asleep atop a number of pillows when she should have been in her own bed, it was his decision to paint the library in new colours. Sypha moves aside an entire shelf of thick volumes as though trying to find a carefully hidden switch that will lead them into a secret chamber. It’s what Mirele hopes but turns mildly disappointed when the books do not in fact magically shift to reveal a stone passageway. Her soured anticipation is only countered when Sypha places a box on the desk.

“Can you guess what’s inside?”

“Is it treasure?”

“Close! You are almost right.” Sypha opens the lid just as Pandora did except there are no horrors, no evils to be wrought upon humanity. Mirele peeks inside and her eyes shine with the glistening silver of trinkets, pendants, and talismans. She resists the innate urge to reach her hands, still white with flour, into the box only to briefly experience the sensation of holding one between her fingers. Even children know when something is sacred.

“These belonged to your grandparents. They used them for protection and strength. A long time ago, before you were born, their home burned down and everything was destroyed.”

“Papa’s home?”

Sypha nods, grateful that this story now has its happy ending, slight as it may be. “However, when your other father started building the manor we live in, he found this box trapped amongst all the rubble. It managed to survive.”

“What do they say?”

Mirele points to one pendant molded in the shape of a sword. Inscribed along the curve of its ash-riddled blade are the Hebrew names of angels which must have been muttered by Sonia or Gabriel. The longer Mirele stares, attempting to decipher yet another new language, the brighter her cheeks grow red with frustration. Her mother acts quick just as her eyes begin to water.

“It’s alright if you don’t understand what any of them say.”

“I can learn! Please, mama? I promise I’ll study really hard!”

Sypha’s lips curl as Mirele continues her begging. Oh the mind of a child. How quickly it changes.

The kitchen feels hotter, wafting through the air. Enveloping the room and everything caught between its walls. Trevor stands by the oven, a thick cloth ready in his hand. It shouldn’t take much longer. At least there’s no stench of something burning. Almost makes him pine for the days of his family’s massive stone oven and how he would sneak around at night and pick out leftover morsels from inside like an insatiable mouse. Not unlike the actual beasts which he hunted throughout the hallways before moving onto larger prey typical of a Belmonts’ work—or as large as his own runtish body mass could handle.

Minutes of quiet pass, still eyeing the loaves with a keen gaze. Trevor’s concentration soon broken by the feeling of two arms wrapping around his softening yet still robust midsection. Slow and careful, until his back is pressed against an equally broad chest.

“Can I help you?” He asks as Alucard buries his face into the curvature of his shoulder blades.

“You’re already helping.” The dhampir, unchanging in his physical appearance (a revelation both Trevor and Sypha refuse to acknowledge for the time being), tightens his embrace.

“Something wrong?”

“No… I just enjoy feeling how much softer and warmer you’ve become.”

Trevor’s cheeks blush ever so pinker and not because of the oven’s heat. By now he should be used to Alucard’s sudden bouts of outward affection.

“You even smell better.”

There it is. Trevor thought he would be waiting forever to hear that little jab, though said with nothing but a good heart.

“That might be the herbs you’re smelling.”

Alucard shifts around so that the two of them are side by side, cheek to cheek, as he chuckles in Trevor’s ear. “Come here.”

He doesn’t offer a kiss, not where Trevor was expecting. Instead of his lips, Alucard singles out every patch of stray flour on his face, kissing, wiping, even licking them clean. Cheek, jawline, and nose. Trevor’s expression twists into a ticklish, surprisingly delighted facade.

“You’re a half vampire, not a cat.”

“Better to clean you now than later.”

“Always so fucking odd…”

“You love it.”

Much to his lucky stars, Trevor manages one curse mere seconds before Sypha and Mirele return. They let their daughter speak at a breakneck speed neither one can fully comprehend—something about silver pieces and whether they can teach her a new language—until one series of questions finally sticks.

“Is the bread ready yet? Can we eat it now? Can we please?”

Trevor placates Mirele by revealing the fruits of their joint hard earned labour: four freshly baked and perfectly shined challah loaves each representative of whoever did the braiding. She bounces in her chair before simmering down to an excited tremble once Trevor warns her of how they need to cool. In order to make this more of a meal, he rummages about in search of two other beacons from his childhood. He’s rewarded with one of the few fresh apples they have left while Sypha, ever in tune with his inner thoughts, grabs another small pot of honey for him.

Trevor thanks her by gently running his palm across her lower abdomen, over the growing bump. He keeps it there for just a second longer, a subtle gesture of love noticed by Sypha. Fingertips intertwined with each other, they join Alucard and Mirele at the table as the midday sun shines golden through the windows.

#castlevania #castlevania fanfiction #trevor belmont #alucard #alucard castlevania #sypha belnades #trephacard #my writing #*cvfic #jewish trevor

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wiypt-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch34: Paper

Summary: Following the events in Siberia, Katie, Steve Wanda and Sam all struggle to adapt to a life on the run. The Roger’s first wedding anniversary isn’t spent the way Steve would have hoped, but as Fall arrives, he finallly gets the call he’d been waiting for from Wakanda.

Warnings: Bad language, Smut! (NSFW, Under 18s) Bad Language words.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

A/N: Wonderful edit again from @angrybirdcr and a new part means a new banner!!!! Here we go, into the Nomad/IW years...

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Chapter 33

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

August 2016

Following advice from Coulson, the group of Outlaws decided to lay low for a few months until interest died down, although Katie and Sam were pretty amused to find out that there had been widespread protests across the US after Captain America had been declared and Enemy of the State, especially when someone (no names were mentioned, but Katie was laying odds on it being Murdock to help Clint and Scott’s very publicised hearings) had leaked to the press details of exactly what had taken place in Siberia, and how they had been treated by the Government. To Katie’s further delight, Ross was facing a public enquiry as well with regards to their unlawful arrests.

All in all, that part of it had worked out pretty well. And whilst she knew Ross would get away with it, the thought of him being pissed off and inconvenienced filled her with a very smug sense of satisfaction.

The place they were living was called the Isle of Lewis, approximately twelve miles away from Stornoway in the northern part of the inter-connected Islands in the Hebrides. Coulson wasn’t lying when he’d told Katie it was isolated, in fact the only connection to mainland Scotland was either a two hour ferry or a half hour flight, so with that respect it was absolutely perfect.

The old farm house was secluded, the land surrounding it sprawling for miles, shielded by a large thicket of trees on three sides and a cliff edge which dropped down to a small beach on the other. There was no reason for anyone to visit or pass their house, bar the odd dog walker they saw treading the cliff footpath. They were always careful when seeing people to greet them politely so they didn’t attract attention by being suspiciously aloof.

The first rule of going on the run? Don’t run.

At first they strayed into town for supply runs only. Katie was surprised just how well she adapted to living with two additional people. At first she had been worried, Steve and her having had their own space for such a long time. Even in the tower and compound their living quarters had been spacious and private, meaning they could hide away from everyone if they wanted to. But in their safe house they didn’t have that luxury. Nevertheless, it was adequate enough meaning they all had their own rooms, even if they were on the small side. And whilst there was only one full bathroom upstairs, so far there had been no squabbles about who used it when.

The large sitting area had been kitted out with a state of the art entertainment system, they had a decent sized farmhouse style Kitchen-Diner, and a smaller sitting room off the back of the kitchen with a smaller TV and a a piano much to Katie’s delight. Practical things like bills etc were coming out of an account belonging to Mr and Mrs O’Rourke, one of Katie and Steve’s covers- the name being Steve’s Ma’s maiden name. Coulson had advised them it was the least suspicious thing to do and would attract less attention than trying to pay cash at a bank. They’d also acquired a ten year old 4x4, bought for cash of course, and it was subtle enough to blend in as a lot of the locals seemed to drive them too due to the terrain and climate of the Island.

But whilst everything seemed to go according to plan and was, when all was said and done, fairly easy, Steve was struggling. He was antsy from the lack of action, and from a purely carnal point of view was missing the fact he could slam his wife up against any surface he wanted to and not worry about them being caught. He hated the fact their room was right next to Sam’s, concerned with the amount of noise they might make after Bucky’s jibe about the hotel rooms, and it wasn’t long before Katie noticed a dramatic shift in his attitude towards her. He was snappy, short tempered and Katie was often the one that bore the brunt of his temper. They bickered, on a much larger scale than she could really ever remember them doing before, over really stupid things as well like the fact one evening Steve couldn’t find where she’d put his favourite cookies in the kitchen. He became less tactile, less handsy and their love life dwindled dramatically, but she tried not to let it get to her, which was easier said than done especially when she was so used to the fact that he basically worshipped the ground she walked on.

The morning of their first wedding anniversary, Katie woke alone, her husband nowhere to be found. After laying simply staring at his empty side of the bed for a moment, remembering he blinked back tears of frustration and headed for a before she wandered downstairs into the kitchen to be greeted by Sam and Wanda both sat at the table.

“Steve gone for a run?” She asked, after greeting them both good morning.

“Yeah, I offered to go but he wanted to go on his own.” Sam said, shrugging “Didn’t want me slowing him down.”

“He actually said that?” Katie frowned.

Sam nodded.

“I’m sorry Sam, don’t take it personally.” Katie poured herself a coffee and sat down, taking a deep breath. “Is everything okay?” Wanda asked, looking at Katie “You’ve both been a little tetchy recently. Granted you haven’t been as bad as him, but…” “Yeah, you guys not err…getting enough?” Sam quipped, earning himself a slap round the back of the head from Wanda, the younger woman giving him a glare.

“Fuck off Wilson.” Katie rolled her eyes.

“I’m just saying.”

“Well don’t.” She snapped, taking a sip of her coffee then swiping a piece of toast off his plate. “He’s just not coping well with being cooped up, it’ll settled down. I hope.” She added, biting her toast.

“Look, we know it’s your anniversary today.” Wanda looked at her. “You got anything planned?” “Not really possible.” Katie shrugged. “Thought I might try and convince him to take a walk later, just the two of us but…”

“Well,” Sam looked at Wanda then over to Katie. “We thought we might head into town for the evening, hit a few bars. Give you two a bit of space.” Wanda nodded, eagerly. “You have to do something, even if it’s just cooking a meal and having a bit of you time.” Katie pondered this for a moment and found herself smiling “Actually, that’s not a bad idea. I can go to the store later.” Her spirits raised a little as she started planning a menu out in her head. She was jerked from her thoughts when the security system clicked and Steve walked through the door of the kitchen that led to the grounds, the door shutting behind him, the keypad beeping as he typed in the code to lock everything down. His T-shirt was damp with sweat, clinging to his torso, the pair of dark sweats fitting snugly to his hips.

“Hey.” She looked up at him. His face was tired but nevertheless she was relieved to see him smile as he walked over and dropped a soft kiss to her head, their argument from the previous night forgotten.

“Happy Anniversary.” He whispered, and she smiled up at him, understanding his gesture to also be an apology of sorts.

“Back at ya, Soldier.” She swallowed back her tears, “You want breakfast?” “I’ll shower first.” He nodded to Sam and Wanda before pausing, and with a playful smile he stole the last piece of toast off Sam’s plate.

“Not cool man!” Sam groaned. “That was the last of the bread.” Steve simply shrugged at Sam’s protest, before he headed down the hallway to go and freshen up. Katie watched him go before she turned to Wanda.

“Fancy coming with me to the store?”

She nodded “Sure.”

***** When Steve came back to the kitchen half an hour or so later he was surprised to find the girls gone.

“Supplies.” Sam answered his unasked question as he was flicking through the television in the lounge, settling on a British Chat Show called ‘This Morning’, easy daytime TV that didn’t require thinking about. Steve made himself a coffee before he sat down next to his friend with a sigh.

“So, first anniversary.” Sam spoke, not looking at him. “Be this isn’t what you thought you’d be doing?” “You can say that again.” Steve mumbled. Just twelve months ago at that exact time he’d been bustling about his apartment on the compound in a fluster getting ready. It had, without a doubt, been the happiest day of his life. But this was not how he wanted their first wedding anniversary to go down. He’d always planned spoiling Katie a little, maybe a nice getaway, somewhere warm, but that wasn’t an option.

“Me and Wanda are clearing out later.” Sam’s eyes remained on the TV. “Give you two a bit of alone time.” “You don’t have to-“ Steve started but Sam cut him off with a snort.

“Man, you need to make some lovin’ on your girl.” He turned to the soldier who felt a flush rise up his neck. “Because we know you ain’t been getting enough, you’ve been a bad tempered bastard for weeks.”

“I have not.” Steve shot back indignantly, causing Sam to raise his eyebrows. Steve let out a sigh, knowing he was well and truly busted.

“Look, if you two ever need some space, all ya gotta do is ask.” Sam said sincerely, looking at Steve. “Couples need that time. This is bound to be stressful for you both.”

“I doubt it’s easy on you two either.” Steve looked at him and Sam shrugged, before he smirked.

“Difference is if I wanna get laid I’ll just head into town. There’ll be some sap out there that likes George Fletcher the Geologist from Georgia.”

“You’re terrible you know that?” Steve smirked at him over his coffee mug.

Sam simply smiled back. “You get her anything?”

“Yeah.” Steve nodded “We agreed months ago on something paper themed, you know, on account of the anniversary being paper. I had planned to get the lyrics to our wedding song printed and do a sketch of one of our photos to hang up in our apartment but that kinda went out of the window.” “So what did you get?” “A book.” Steve let out a breath “I spotted it in the second hand shop in town last time we did a flyer. It’s a leather-bound complete works of Shakespeare but it was published the year she was born and has all these handwritten notes in it from someone. Just the kind of thing she’ll like. And a couple of albums of sheet music, I know she’s missing hers back home and she hasn’t been playing the piano as much as I thought she would.”

“She’ll love it.” Sam smiled encouragingly “I hope so Sam.” he sighed, leaning back against the couch cushions, scratching at his chin “I hope so.” *****

True to their word, Sam and Wanda headed out just after five, leaving Katie and Steve alone. As Katie bustled around in the kitchen, Steve couldn’t help but watch his wife as she cooked, a small smile playing on his face. And then, realising they were truly alone for the first time in months he placed his beer down on the side and crossed the small room, wrapping his arms around her from behind and dropping his chin to her shoulder, nuzzling at her neck. She smiled at his display of affection, something she’d been aching for, and as the scruff of his almost-beard scratched at her skin she gave a soft sigh.

“You okay?” she asked.

“Yeah.” He said, before he shook his head “No. Not really. Doll, I’m sorry for being so distant. You don’t deserve this.” He sighed. “After the accords, when the dust settled we were supposed to have a normal life, a simple life. I can’t even give you that.”

“It’s a good thing you’re cute because at times you’re incredibly stupid,” She smiled making him breathe a laugh. “Steve we’re here, together after everything. I made that vow, until death do us part and I mean it. I love you.” She finished simply, shrugging. “So stop wasting time worrying about it. You’re stuck with me, Captain Dumbass.“

Steve looked back at her, before he gave her a small smile.

"Now I know this probably isn’t what either of us had in mind, but we’re on our own, I’ve got a pretty large batch of Mac and Cheese, and an apple pie in the oven, a steak ready to grill so let’s just try and enjoy it.”

“You made mac and cheese?” Steve’s face creased into a boyish smile “And apple pie? What happened to not baking pies unless it’s Autumn?” “Well its September tomorrow.” She shrugged. “And I thought it might cheer you up.”

"Sorry.” He half grimaced, half smiled apologetically back at her. “I know I haven’t been the easiest to be around lately ─”

“Stop apologizing.” She interrupted him again.

He studied her for a second before he leaned down to give her a soft kiss. “I love you.” “I know.” Her hands slid down to his chest and she gave him a quick pat before playfully shoving him away “Now scoot, unless you want me to burn dinner. Go set the table.” Knowing better than to refuse, he did as he was told and it wasn’t long before they were settled down and eating. They talked about everything and anything, drank wine, and to the pair of them they could almost have been sat in their dining room at the compound. They laughed, they joked, they poked fun at one another. It felt normal. Once they had finished eating they cleared their dishes, Steve grabbed another bottle of wine and they headed to the couch to find something to watch on TV.

“I got you something.” Katie smiled when Steve dropped the wine onto the coffee table and she gestured to the small gift bag resting on the table.

“Oh, me too. Hang on.” He bounded up the stairs to retrieve his gift. As he returned, Katie eyed the two wrapped items with playful suspicion as he handed them to her. One was really heavy. She passed the gift bag containing his to him and he peeked inside, and they shared a childish grin with one another before they set about opening their presents.

“Oh, Steve.” She breathed out as she gently ran her hands over the leather of the anthology he had bought her. Flicking through, she smiled as she spotted all the notes that someone had written in the margins. They consisted of opinions on the plays, themes, characterisation plots, all the type of thing she had studied at University and she found it fascinating to read other people’s interpretations.

“I thought you might like it.” He watched her as she looked at him, her eyes bright, before she then let out another sigh of happiness when she opened the two sheet music books as they would give her something else to play other than the stuff she knew from memory.

And her gift to Steve was equally as thoughtful. He positively beamed when he opened the new blank sketch books, pencils, wax crayons and charcoals. All of his art supplies had been left behind and he’d been dying to get some more.

“Well, the sketchbook is paper.” Katie explained softly. “And I know it relaxes you to draw.” “Doll, its perfect” He assured her, dropping a kiss to her lips. “Thank you.”

“So, what film do you wanna watch?” She asked, moving for the remote but Steve had no intention of watching a film. Not now. He gently grabbed her wrist and she looked at him.

“Right now, Mrs Rogers, I’d really like to carry you upstairs and take you to bed.”

Katie grinned. “Well that can be arranged, but there’s something I wanna do first.”

He looked at her, puzzled for a moment but when she tapped on her phone and the opening sounds of ‘Only One in Colour’ sounded over the speakers he laughed and stood up, offering her his hand.

“May I have this dance?” He quipped, arching an eyebrow at her.

“Always.” She smiled, allowing him to pull her up.

He set her on her feet but before he had time to do anything she’d shoved him backwards, catching him off guard slightly causing him to sit down harshly on the bed and he let out a smirk as she straddled him before she kissed him again and he was happy to reciprocate exactly how he knew she liked, firm and gentle, passionate and caring all at once. Katie gently bit his lower lip drawing another groan from his throat as he rest his head against hers, his hands gently gipping her hip.

“You know,” She drew back slightly to cup his face in her fingertips. “I really do like kissing you with this.” she traced her hand across the short beard on his face. She also liked looking at him with it too because, coupled with the fact his hair was also getting slightly longer, it gave him a rugged, harder, rougher look taking him farther and farther away from the Blue-Eyed all American boy day by day.

“I’m getting used to it.” He murmured pressing a soft kiss to her mouth before his head dropped, small kisses trailing up the length of her neck, that precious stubble creating an amazing contrast to the softness of his mouth.

“Yeah, me too.” She gave a soft moan, her eyes closed as she rolled her head back, giving him access to more of her neck. Steve smiled slightly, happy to oblige and just take his god damned time loving his wife. Eventually, his lips made their way up her jaw and then she sat up slightly, grasping at the hem of his T-shirt. He moved to allow her to take it off and then his fingers made short work of the sleeveless button down she had been wearing, shrugging it down over her shoulders before he peppered more kisses across her collar bone and down her sternum as he reached round to undo her bra. Gently, he lay her flat down on the bed, taking a nipple in his mouth, this time drawling a loud groan from her as her hips bucked involuntarily upwards at the sensations spiking through her body.

God it really had been far too long since he’d lavished attention on her like this and Steve made a mental note to tell Sam and Wanda to ‘take a walk’ a lot more often. It was almost two months now since they had last been intimate and, his body was aching for her, desperate to feel her, and from the noises she was making she felt the same. His lips made their way down, nose and beard skimming along the waistband of her jeans before he undid them, sliding them down with her underwear as he shed his own too before he crawled back over her.

Katie pushed on his shoulders slightly so she could roll him over and placed herself on top of him, brushing her lips across the hairs on his face tracing a path across from one side of his jawline to the other drawing a gentle moan from his lips, hands flexing on her hips as she shifted slightly to start taking him in. Her mouth dropped into a small ‘o’ as they both groaned as she slid down him, her hands falling to his chest and once he was fully sheathed inside of her, she began to work him gently. His hands slid up into her hair, as she leaned forward to kiss him and he raised his hips slightly and she whimpered, pushing down harder against him as his hands gently kneaded at her breasts. Her pace was slow, torturously so, but it wasn’t long before she began to move faster, working him harder as she chased her relief. The roughness of his pubic hair was grinding against her spot, the friction feeling amazing as she pushed down. With every push she made, his eyes grew darker, and darker, his hands digging into her hips as he pulled her down, grinding further and deeper.

He sat up suddenly, so they were face to face, the change of angle making her cry out, as he slid his hands round her back, pulling her closer to him as he bent to kiss her neck, biting at that spot whilst he held her still for a moment, gently thrusting upwards, deeply, slowly, savouring the moment. Katie rolled her head back, a louder cry this time tumbling from her lips and he felt her tighten around him, and he let out a groan of his own.

“Good?” He panted, smiling as she managed a broken noise of affirmation, as he pulled her to him harder, hands back on her hips as his rutting picked up speed.

“Stevie…” She mumbled, her eyes locking onto his as her hands slid up his back and fisted into his hair. A few more pushes later and they were both done for, her name escaping from his lips as her walls collapsed completely, and she let out a soft cry as she fell forward burying her face in his neck. He was close behind, letting out a gentle moan, his beard rustling against her ear as he jerked underneath her, clinging onto her as if he never wanted to let her go. And at that moment he didn’t.

After a minute or so he leaned back, his breathing deep as he brushed her hair back off her face before sliding his nose against hers. “Happy Anniversary, Kitten.” *******

Steve thought the fall in New York was gorgeous but that was nothing compared to what it was like where they were. He was feeling a lot more positive about things as well, as post their anniversary, he and Katie had made a pact that they would do something alone together at least once a week, be it a walk along the cliff the beach, or straying into town to one of the local restaurants. His hair and beard now rendered him pretty much unrecognisable and they never got a second glance at all.

Steve’s favourite ‘date’, if you could them that, was the walk they took in the pitch black to see the Northern Lights late one evening. Katie had been utterly captivated by the beauty of the Aurora Borealis and Steve had to admit, it was spectacular. Committing it to memory was easy, and a few days later Katie wasn’t surprised to find a perfect replica of them his sketch book.

Being on the run shouldn’t have been this easy, and they were constantly on edge, waiting for the time they had to split and run, but whilst they could, they made the most of it.

Thanksgiving came, then Christmas, the four friends making it as festive as possible. They got a tree, shared gifts, enjoyed a Christmas Meal, and after several drinks each, Steve wheeled the piano into the living room where Sam and Katie gave a rousing rendition of ‘Fairy Tale of New York’ along with a few other Christmas songs. It was different, but that didn’t make it any less enjoyable.

And then, in March 2017, they had a call from T’Challa. They were ready to bring Bucky out of cryo. Katie and Steve instantly set about making the arrangements to go to Wakanda, but it turns out they weren’t the only ones planning on taking a little trip…

“There’s something I wanted to discuss with you all.” Wanda said, the morning they were due to depart. “Please don’t freak out, but I talked to Vision last night.”

“What?” Katie’s voice was quiet as she merely looked back at the younger woman, her face passive.

Meanwhile, both Steve and Sam’s eyebrows shot up in their foreheads.

“Hold on, what do you mean you talked to Vision?” Steve asked. “How? Where?”

“This is going to sound really weird, but I saw him in my dreams,” Wanda carried on with her explanation.

“How do you know that wasn’t just a dream?” Sam asked.

“Because it wasn’t,” Wanda shrugged “I don’t know how to explain it, but I know it was him and I know it was real. I think we are connected somehow, because of the Mind Stone and because I was thinking about him before I went to sleep, it made some kind of telepathy possible.”

Steve pondered it for a second, thinking to himself how ridiculous that sounded until he realised they were talking about an enhanced human who had gained certain telepathic and telekinetic powers due to experimentation with the Mind Stone and an android that now carried within his synthetic, vibranium-mesh body said gem.

When you put it like that it seemed fairly logical.

"What did you talk about?” Katie asked after a moment.

“Just stuff, how I was, how much we, you know, miss one another” Wanda bit her lip. “We talked about actually meeting in person in a few days.”

“Okay, hold on,” Sam held one of his hands up, his brow furrowed. “How do we know this is not a trap? Like, I don’t know, Tony getting Vision to talk to you to get us back into the Raft?”

As soon as Sam said it Katie shook her head. Tony could sometimes be a jackass and he may have been hurt and mad at her and Steve, but she knew despite his stinging barb in Siberia, he wouldn’t want them all thrown in jail.

“He wouldn’t do that,” She looked at Sam.

“How do you know?” Sam pressed.

“Because Tony has way better tech than us, and there’s no accounting for what Vision can do with that Mind Stone.” Steve backed his wife up. This was something he had been pondering on for a while now too. “If anyone can find us, it’s them, yet we’re almost ten months down the line now since Leipzig and so far, there’s no sign of any one, so Tony’s either no longer working with Ross, or if he is, he’s dragging his feet deliberately.”

“Exactly,” Wanda nodded emphatically. “And Vision would never do anything to hurt me, not intentionally. I trust him with my life, but it’s more than that.”

Taking a deep breath, his mind made up, Steve turned to Wanda “You’re not a prisoner here Wanda. If you want to go then we can’t and we won’t stop you.”

“Do you want to go?” Katie looked at the younger woman who was wringing her hands together.

“I do but, well, I kinda feel like I’m fraternizing with the enemy.”

“He’s not the enemy. None of them are. Not Vision or Rhodey, Not Tony, none of them.” Steve ran his hand through his hair, sweeping the long strands back off his face. “We all wanted the same thing, to do good in this world but we disagreed on how best to make it happen. Doesn’t make us enemies.”

“But we’re on the run because…”

“This was always going to happen.” Katie cut her off, shaking her head “Ever since SHIELD collapsed and Fury stepped away there was a power vacuum. It was only a matter of time before the Government tried to step in to oversee us.”

“And let’s face it, I was always going to be considered a rogue threat the moment I refused to comply” Steve said, a wry smile on his face. “We all were.”

“Just be careful.” Katie looked at Wanda. “And whilst we’re away just make sure you check in once in a while? And the first sign of trouble, well, let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

“Well if Wanda’s being granted shore leave so to speak, I might take a bit of time too.” Sam chipped in as the idea came to him. “There’s an old RAF pal of mine, based near Liverpool that I aint seen in a while. He’s cool,” he anticipated the next question, “I saved his life on a mission so he won’t sell me out.” Steve took a deep breath and then shrugged “You know the risks, Sam. If any of us get caught then…” “Back to the Pokey.” Sam shrugged “Yeah, I got it. And don’t worry, I wouldn’t rat your location out.”

“Me neither.” Wanda added.

“I don’t for a second believe you would.” Steve shook his head.

“I suppose, to be fair,” Katie bit her lip, “we’ve been here for a long time now. It won’t harm us to disappear for a while, regroup in a few weeks. And we’ll draw even less attention apart as they won’t be expecting it.” And so, for the first time in ten months, the four went their separate ways. ****** True to his word, Steve was there when they woke Bucky up. Once he had come round the two greeted one another with the same love and affection they always did. Suri’s scans showed that the programming was no longer present in Bucky’s brain, but there was one last thing they had to do to make sure.

Say the trigger words.

Which was why Katie, Steve, a one armed Bucky and T’Challa were now heading to the underground fort of the palace. Katie clutching a rifle, Steve was unarmed bar his super strength, whilst T’Challa was in his black panther garb, the party flanked by two members of his Kings Guard.

As they were about to enter the underground cell, Bucky grabbed Katie’s arm and pulled her to one side.

“What the hell Bucky?” She almost yelped, and he let go of her arm and held his finger to his lips.

“Listen, Doll Face, I got a favour to ask. If this hasn’t worked…” He took a deep breath. “I want you to end it.”

“End what?” She arched an eyebrow at him. “Me.” He replied simply “Steve said you’re a good shot. I want you to put a bullet in my head.” Katie blinked, and then burst out laughing. “Whatever.” “I’m being deadly serious.” Bucky looked at her. “I can’t and I don’t want to live like that anymore.” He shook his head sadly. “I’d rather die that know that what they’ve done is still in there.” “Bucky,” Katie frowned, “you’d be safe here, you know that, no one would trigger you.” “No, we don’t know that.” He shook his head. “Please Katie, I’m begging you. You owe me.” “So you save my life and you want me to take yours?” “Yeah. Pretty much.”

“You’re an asshole, James Buchanan Barnes” She hissed, glaring at him before shooting a glance over his shoulder at where Steve was stood, talking to T’Challa. She shook her head sadly. “I can’t. It’d kill Steve and it’s wrong, you don’t…”

“Listen, I’m asking you because I trust you to do it.” Bucky cut her off, looking over his shoulder to where she had been watching Steve. He was now stood observing the pair of them and they both smiled at him. Katie took a deep breath, looking into Bucky’s steel blue eyes and gave a sigh. She knew how hard this was on him and she could fully understand where he was coming from but still, asking her to do it, especially when she knew Steve would be besides himself made her feel sick.

“I’ve written him a letter.” Bucky said quickly, as the Super Soldier was now making his way over. “It explains what I’ve asked you to do. So please, give me your word.”

She looked at him, swallowing, and gave him a small nod before her eyes flicked to Steve as he approached, a frown on his face.

“You two alright?”

“Yeah, Katie was just asking me how I was really feeling.” Bucky looked at his friend.

Katie shrugged and smiled at Steve in what she hoped as a convincing way “Wanted to make sure he was alright, that’s all.”

Steve studied her for a moment, and she smiled again before he turned to Bucky. “It’s gonna be ok.” Steve assured his friend, clapping him on his shoulder, shooting another glance at his wife who was nervously chewing her lip. He frowned again, but pushed the suspicion to the back of his mind and then nodded. “Come on.” “Yeah, let’s get this over with.” Bucky mumbled.

Steve and T’Challa stepped into the room which was sealed whilst Katie took up her position on the other side of the one way glass with Suri who pressed the microphone to talk into the room.

““I don’t know why you are all worrying, brother, it is like you do not trust me…” the young woman scoffed. “Take no chances Sister.” T’Challa shot back. “You know this”.

Suri made a noise in her throat and then spoke again “Ok, I’m ready when you are.” She held the red book in her hand that they had recovered from Zumo. T’Challa engaged his helmet whilst Steve stood stoic as ever, throwing a glance over his shoulder to the glass he knew his wife was stood at the other side of.

“Ready Buck?” he asked turning back. His friend nodded, taking a deep breath.

T’Challa signalled to Suri who, after a little hesitation, began to read, each word punctuated by a pause.

“Longing, Rusted, Seventeen, Daybreak, Furnace…”

Katie watched intently and saw Bucky was clenching his teeth and suddenly she started to get a little bit nervous. She wasn’t the only one that had spotted it either. Steve moved slightly, adopting a little more of a battle stance than he had been as he clocked his friends reaction.

“Nine, Benign, Homecoming, One, Freight Car”

The last words hit Steve like a truck. It was depraved that Hydra would use those words. Bucky had plunged from a train car to his supposed death. There was no randomness to that at all, unlike the seemingly obscure nature of the rest of the words, nor was it any accident it was the last trigger they would use. There were the final words because they signified the death of Bucky and the birth of the killer Winter Soldier.

Sick bastards.

Bucky’s chest was heaving, his fist was clenching, and for a split second Steve feared the worse. But when his friend looked up, he saw the blue eyes of Bucky Barnes looking back at him, and not the icy glare of the Winter Soldier.

“Buck?” He asked gently, his voice cracking slightly. Bucky looked at him, a single tear falling down his cheek.

“Nothing.” He croaked, and Katie let out a soft sigh of relief, her hands sliding down her face to cover her mouth. “Nothing.”

T’Challa threw a party of sorts that night which consisted of a bar crawl through the city. Katie and Bucky dubbed it a ‘Fuck HYDRA’ party much to Steve’s chagrin. But he couldn’t bring himself to care that much, as at the end of the day, if anyone had as much right to stick their middle fingers up to HYDRA it was them. There was still something troubling him though, so when T’Challa left the bar they were sat at for a few moments, he turned to Bucky and asked him outright what had been going on with him and Katie outside the cell before. Bucky hesitated before he hung his head slightly and peered up at Steve from where he was sat next to him, a tumbler of some kind of Wakandan alcohol in his hand.

“I asked her to kill me.” Bucky admitted, swilling the liquid round in the glass “If it hadn’t worked I asked her to put a bullet in my head. She didn’t want to but I told her she owed me.” Steve felt himself blanche. “You did what?” “You don’t know what it’s like.” Bucky shook his head. “Living with the fact that at any time someone could mutter a string of words and…” He shot back the alcohol and slid his empty glass back to the Bar Tender to top up. “I didn’t want to live like that.”

”You put that on her?” Steve’s eyes flashed with anger, “Damnit Buck, you should have asked me!”

“Would you have done it?” Bucky countered. Steve took a big sigh, knowing he was caught “Exactly.” Bucky scoffed. “And besides, you’re the one that said she was a dead shot.”

Bucky eyed his friend for a while before he slid his empty glass to the man behind the bar, gesturing for another top up. “Anyway, it’s irrelevant now because here I am.”

“That was still a shitty thing to do.” Steve frowned before he reached over for his glass, giving a little shrug. “But yeah, here you are.” T’Challa chose that point to come back and he settled at the bar next to Steve.

“So, Sergeant Barnes, we’ll have to see about getting you some permanent lodgings.” The King smiled “Maybe a private hut. There is a quiet tribe, not far from the river, unless you would prefer a post in my Kings Guard.” “I’m done fighting.” Bucky shook his head as he took another drink from his glass. “A hut sounds mighty fine. Maybe I can get some goats.” “Goats?” Steve looked at him.

“I like Goats.” Bucky shrugged “Do you remember the one in the petting zoo near School?” “Yeah, it set my asthma off.” Steve snorted before the pair of them descended into laughter.

Across the bar, Katie was stood with Suri and one of T’Challa’s personal guards, Okoye. She instantly warmed to Okoye, the woman reminding her a lot of Natasha. They stood chatting for a while before a loud roll of laughter caught their attention and they turned to see T’Challa, Bucky and Steve howling at something, as T’Challa gestured for the bar tender to top up their glasses whilst Okoye excused herself to head over to speak to her husband.

“Oh dear, they’ve broken out the Wakandan Spice.” Suri muttered, eyeing up the men.

“What’s that?” Katie asked.

“The only thing that gets my brother drunk!” Suri snorted “That stuff could knock out a rhino.”

“So it should have an effect on Super Soldiers?” Katie grinned.

“Let’s go find out!” Suri nodded, a cheeky grin on her face. They made their way over and Katie could see instantly the woman was right. Steve had a glazed look in his eyes and Bucky was leaning back in his chair, a pink tinge to his cheeks.

“Hey, Beautiful” Steve smiled up at Katie, pulling her into his lap, his hand trailed up and down her spine, lazily. “Where you been all evening?”

“About ten meters away over there.” She smirked, pointing. Suri was reaching over to steal a bit of the liquor from Bucky’s glass and T’Challa slapped her hand. “You are not even old enough to drink.” He glared at her.

“Tssk hush brother. Just because you are now well into your thirties. You always seem to be so bitter about me being much younger than you.” At that Bucky barked out a laugh.

“Don’t know what you’re snorting at old man.” Katie glanced at him and he quirked an eyebrow at her.

"Not exactly a comment I’d expect from someone who’s married to a hundred-year-old man.”

“Ninety-eight.” Steve corrected.

Katie leaned back in her husband’s lap to peer at him, her right hand running through his hair. "Doesn’t look a day over twenty five.” She grinned.

“Hey brother, why doesn’t your power stop your ageing?” Suri quipped.

“Shut up.” T’Challa glared at her. “Before I carry you back to the palace”

As the two siblings began to quibble, Katie glanced at Steve. “Been talking about the good old days?” “In a fashion.” Steve smirked.

“Anymore good tales of your misspent youth to tell me?” Bucky shook his head. “Sure Steve’s told you enough already.”

“I never told her about the time you set up a double date for us and then forgot to show up.” Steve looked at him, his arms tightening around his wife.

“That never happened.” Bucky shook his head.

“It absolutely happened. Caroline O’Hara and Deborah Smith”

Bucky’s eyes widened. “Oh shit, yeah. Brunette and a red head. A curly red head.” He grinned.

“Yup. Double date to the theatre, only you never showed up.” Steve looked at him, accusingly “And little old me was left to explain to Debbie why you had stood her up.”

Bucky smirked into his glass.

"I thought she was gonna kill me.” Steve mused, turning to look at Katie. “She kept hitting me with her purse. And then Caroline started, asking where the hell he was and why he thought it fit to stand up her best friend and try to fix her up with some kind of joke.”

Katie frowned, narrowing her eyes. “You weren’t a joke.”

“Thanks, Honey.” He grinned before he turned to fix Bucky with a glare. “And do you remember why you didn’t show up?” Bucky was now shaking with mirth, as he looked at Steve, his eyes bright with tears of laughter. “Go on, tell her Buck.”

“I was with Maggie Dougherty.” Bucky smirked

“Yeah, you were.” Steve pointed at him. “That was the night you got caught sneaking out of her room and down her fire escape by her dad who beat the crap out of you.”

“Worth it though.” Bucky snorted. “She was hot. Strawberry blonde waves, pretty face, nice ass.” “Yeah.” Steve nodded and Katie slapped the back of his head.

“Oww!” He looked at her as she glared at him. Grinning he reached up to give her a soft kiss “Not a patch on you though, Darlin’”

After another hour or so, Katie left them to it, heading back to the palace with Suri. She’d had enough, the alcohol she had drunk had lulled her into that happy place here she felt warm and fuzzy inside, and ready for bed.

Steve woke her up when he came crashing into the room a few hours later.

“Shit.” He mumbled, as he banged into the chair by the dresser. “Shhhh”

He staggered over to the bed before face planting straight down. Katie grinned as he peeked up at her.

“I’m drunk.”

“No shit, Sherlock.” She giggled and scrambled out of the duvet. “Come on, get in bed.” “Promises, promises.”

“Yeah, not a chance pal. I doubt very much you’d be of any use in this state.”

“Hey.” He pouted rolling over so he was on his back, turning to look at her as she moved to climb out of bed. “That’s my shirt.”

“I know.” She dropped to the floor to take off his suede boots.

“I like you in my shirts. I like you better out of them.” Steve grinned, grabbing hold of her as she stood up.

“How much have you had?” She laughed as he pulled her onto his lap, nuzzling into her neck.

“Enuff.” he spoke back, voice muffled. “You know you’re the prettiest gal in the whole world?” He peeked up at her and she had to laugh as she ruffled his hair.

“Arms up.”

“I like it when you undress me.” He grinned and Katie gave a chuckle, shaking her head. Eventually she managed to tug off his shirt and his jeans whilst he made some other reference to sex, before he pulled her back down onto the bed next to him, giggling like a school kid.

“Bucky told me.” He slurred.

“Told you what?”

“That he asked you to shoot him.” Steve hiccupped “But I’m glad you didn’t have to.”

Katie chuckled to herself “Me too.” “And now he’s all better.” Steve sighed. “Good, isn’t it?” “It’s awesome.” Shhe smiled, reaching up to bush his hair off his face. “You’re gonna be so hungover tomorrow.” He responded with shrug. “But I do love you. So much.”

“I know and I love you too. Now you gonna get into bed?”

He pushed himself up before beginning a monumental fight with the duvet to get underneath it, the whole thing a great source of amusement to Katie. She’d seen him tipsy from the Asgardian stuff Thor gave him before, but not flat out shit faced like this.

“Are you gonna puke?” She asked, stroking his head as he sighed, nuzzling into her chest.

“No.” He assured her, then paused, before he hiccupped slightly. “But I think I need water.” “Alright, wait there.” Katie climbed out of bed. She grabbed him a bottle from the mini fridge near the door but by the time she had turned back, Steve had his face buried into his pillow and made nothing more than a noise when she offered it to him, not looking up. Deciding she couldn’t be bothered to argue with him, she gently placed the bottle on the night stand next to him, and ran her hand through his hair one more time before she crossed to her side of the bed and settled down with him.

“Night, Soldier.” She smiled softly, kissing his cheek.

“Night, Princess.” He slurred into his pillow.

**** Chapter 35

**Original Posting**

#stark spangled banner #steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #Katie Stark #steve rogers x ofc #steve rogers x original female character #mcu #mcu fanfic #chris evans #chris evans characters

66 notes · View notes

mybrothershands · 4 years ago

Text

MBH/Dumpling Crossover 4/4

By myself and @diddlesanddoodles , edited by @thundering-susurrus

Saen was making quick work of his remaining peeled pumpkin, and Yale was pleased to have the whole pan filled and sizzling. The earthenware dish was stacked high enough, he felt, to warrant bringing it down to Kol and Quinn so they could get the first couple of the pies baking. Bart and Avery would have gotten the first few of the rocs onto the spits, and he was sure a few more would be chucked into one of the other ovens. If they timed it just right, just as one pie was finished baking, the next would be ready to put in, the goal being that all of the pies would be baked just as the last of the rocs finished off.

But the timing would be tight.

Ka did not seem to notice the change in pace, as he was focusing on the little stone he had brought up to his face to inspect. It looked much like a grain of rice between his fingers, but he lauded the girl's find nonetheless. "Kind of marbled and sparkly, isn't it?" he said, offering it back to Nenani.

Anything she might have said was drowned out by Cairo. From his vantage point on the table, he could very nearly bark directly into Ka's ear when he was bent down. So he did. "Ka!"

The giant flinched and looked up. "What is it now?"

Cairo simply pointed at the two pies Yale had brought over earlier. "Eat," he ordered.

"I have to get this done--"

"Don't argue with me! It could be hours before you get done," he said, still pointing.

Ka sighed and, making sure Nenani had taken the stone, reached for his satchel and rummaged around. Upon finding a spoon, he set the pack aside and reached to take one of the meat pies. "Demanding," he grumbled.

Yale turned to Saen, holding out the dish filled with cooked pumpkin. “Go run this to Quinn will ye?”

Wiping his hands on his apron, Saen rounded the table and claimed the dish from Yale before turning to hurry towards the archway.

“You’ve already got half of them done,” Nenani said, looking at the largely reduced pile of gourds. “How many pies do you need to make?”

“I think Quinn’s aimin’ fer about six,” Yale replied. “They’re pretty large ones, so they’ll be enough fer the top table, but the main attraction is sure to be the roasts.”

Just as Saen made it to the bottom of the stairs and into the kitchen proper, a loud voice bellowed from within. “IS THAT ALL YE THREE HAVE MANAGED?”

Yale froze, sighed, and mentally prepared himself for a tongue lashing. Even before Farris reached the top of the steps, he was continuing on with his tirade. “YE TELLIN’ ME THIS LOT CAN GET ALL THESE DAMN BIRDS DISPATCHED, PLUCKED, AND ROASTIN’ IN THE SAME TIME IT TAKES THREE OF YE TO PEEL AND FRY A SINGLE PLATE OF FUCKIN’ PUMPKIN?”

When he reached the landing, he stood with his arms akimbo and glowered fiercely at Yale and Ka. His face was already turning red, a single vein in his forehead throbbing with ire.

Ka nearly choked on his spoon, he jumped so hard. He pushed the pie back onto the table, a single scoop taken from it. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry,” he mumbled to himself as he tried to cut the pumpkin with the handle of the knife. The giant quickly spun the knife around. Within seconds he had gutted and broken down the pumpkin in his lap, and was reaching for another when another voice started barking commands.

"What did I just say? You need to eat something," Cairo said. In response, Ka shook his head, but did not speak. "Boy, you're twice his size. Stand up for yourself."

Still, the giant did not speak and kept his focus on peeling the next pumpkin.

Farris marched with purposeful strides towards them, his gaze set upon Ka. But at the last moments, as he reached them, he turned to Yale. “What in the seven hells are ye all doin’ out here that it takes ye thing long to get me some damn fried gourds, boy?”

“Sorry boss,” Yale replied mechanically. “We’re nearly done.”

“What’s the holdup then? Did ye forget we’re in a bit of a crisis here? Or ye feel like explainin’ to Master Donal why luncheon is late?” Farris demanded and shifted his ire towards Ka. He made note of the human man on the table, looking as irritable as Farris felt. He paid him no mind and focused instead on the giant peeling a pumpkin. And at a surprising speed, too. Farris would have been tempted to be impressed if the situation was different. Then he noted the still-uneaten pies and glowered at Ka.

“Well no wonder yer slower than the fuckin’ solstice,” Farris barked. “Ye still haven’t finished off them pies? The Dumplin’ eats faster than you. Scarf ‘em down and get to it!”

Sat down, Ka was no taller than Farris, and he felt the full heat of his angry rant. He slouched and physically shrank back from the shouts. Try as he might, he could not gather his wits against this man, especially when he was right in his face. "I'm trying, sir," Ka said. It was a moment before the words really sank in, and he understood. "O-oh," he said a bit stupidly.

"Told you," Cairo jeered. His hackles were still pricked, however, and he never took his gaze off of Farris. He stood tense, as if he thought he could do something.

Ka used this as a cue to peel his attention from the angry giant. He returned his hands to the table and took up the pie. Setting the edge of the dish against his mouth, he scooped a quarter of its contents into one cheek. He repeated this action until he looked a bit like a squirrel, then bobbed his head in thanks. "It's good!" Ka said, or at least tried to.

Farris huffed and regarded Ka with an unimpressed frown. “Good, he says. Boy, this is the king’s kitchen. Of course it’s good. We don’t serve the pig shit doled out at common taverns.”

His eyes turned to Cairo, and he noted the tensed muscles and the near battle stance the human man took. Farris matched the man’s glare. “Ye have somethin’ to say to me?”

The human stood there a moment, as if reconsidering, but did not give up his ground. He glanced at Ka, who was still choking down the other half of the first pie, and then back to the smaller giant. He at last smoothed his brow and calmed his stance exactly two notches. "No," he decided. "As long as you keep your paws off him."

Farris snorted a short humorless laugh. “So long as he does the work I’m payin’ for, I ain’t have any reason to lay a finger on him.”

Yale suppressed a look that might have made it seemed as though he would like to contradict his boss’s assertion. But with his self-preservation instinct well-honed after years of working under Farris, Yale turned his back and concentrated his frying pan.

“But I will say this,” Farris continued, the muscles in his shoulders pulling tightly. He leaned down closer to Cairo, pressing further into the human’s space and narrowing his eyes minutely. “First rule of my kitchens, little man: my word is law. So if I say ye need a smack to the head, yer gonna get a smack to the head. Don’t care whose brother ye are or ain’t.”

Ka glanced from the fuming giant to Cairo and back again, his worry mounting. He lowered his voice to a whisper. "H-he's not really going to--I mean, he won't hurt him...will he?" he said to whoever could hear.

"Oh, is that so?" Cairo jeered, "think yourself a tough boy? Well do ye?" He could feel the giant's breath on his face now, yet glared up undeterred. He glanced down to where Nenani was milling around. He did not see her rock, but was fairly certain she still had it on her.

"Y'know what I think?" Cairo said. "I think you're a soft little bastard, that's what!"

And with that, Farris spun on his heels and marched back across the yard and down into the kitchen. Yale was left a little speechless and turned to look back between Cairo and Ka and then to Nenani. She was the only one of the three to share Yale’s shock. He opened his mouth to say something, but paused when he saw Farris emerge again from the kitchen with a familiar cocotte tucked under one arm. Yale dutifully turned his back to his boss and concentrated on the frying pumpkin. He tried very hard not to snicker.

Farris did not acknowledge anyone as he calmly sat the cocotte down onto the table and pulled off the lid. Down near his feet, Nenani was looking between Farris and Yale and when the younger cook caught her eye, he winked at her. But she only looked more confused.

And then it happened.

With a swiftness and speed few people would have assumed Farris capable of, he reached out and grabbed Cairo, pinning the man’s arms to his sides, and swiftly plopping him down into the open pot. The lid was clapped on with a bang and Farris leaned his arm on top, turning to level a calm stare at Ka.

“This mouthy brother ‘a yer’s just earned himself ten minutes,” he said. He turned to Yale. “Hand me that rock there. Not the hot one. Don’t wanna cook 'im.”

Yale bent down to retrieve one of rocks that had been used to create a barrier for the fire pit, choosing the one farthest from the flames. It was barely warm. He handed it to Farris, shooting a slightly apologetic glance at Ka. Farris placed it on the lid and turned back to Ka.

“Ten minutes.”

Ka sat there for a short while, shoulders tense and eyes glued on the pot. Only after Farris backed away did he begin to relax. He seemed to find some kind of solace in Nenani's presence as well, and how comparatively calm she looked.

Still, his brother was in a pot.

Slowly, he reached across the table, his long arm easily closing the distance, and pulled it towards himself. Inside, Cairo was pounding against the side like a swarm of angry bees, to the point that even Ka did not want to open the lid. With the crock safely within his embrace, he went back to his pie. "Ka!" came a muffled voice. "Can you even hear me, you dumb oaf?"

"I can hear you," he mumbled.

"Well get me out of here! What are you waiting for, you useless giant?"

"Don't call me that," he muttered. "And Mister Farris said not to." He stole a glance at the man in question before turning to Yale--a seemingly safer option. "Does he usually do this?"

There was a part of Yale that felt very badly for Ka. For someone so tall, he very much looked like a kicked puppy. Farris eyed him for a moment, a silent command, and though he tried to keep his composure, the mask slipped and Yale snorted an undignified laugh.

“He’s been known to do it from time to time,” he chuckled. “Bit of a last resort sort ‘a thing.”

Yale wasn’t the only one to pick up on Ka’s morose expression and posture. Nenani walked over to his leg and patted it reassuringly. “Don’t worry. It’s like time out.”

Yale laughed properly. “Mostly it’s the brat in there though.”

Farris snorted.

“Nah. Had to use the bigger one. That one there wouldn’t have fit in the one I use with Jae,” he said. Seeming satisfied enough that Ka would not spring his brother from the cocotte before his time was served, Farris gestured to the rest of the pumpkins. “I expect the rest done up quick and brought down. I won’t have luncheon be late and I certainly ain’t sendin’ up sub-par pies to the top tables. I’d have Donal so far up my ass over it, I’d be able to smell his damn cologne.”

Ka seemed a bit distracted by Yale's laugh, but Farris's voice was loud enough to break the spell. "O-Oh. Yessir. We'll get it done. Not to fear." Switching his pie to the other hand, Ka reached down towards Nenani. His hand was still hesitant, but not nearly as much as when he had first tried. "Thank you, little one," he whispered, scratching her upper back with two fingers.

In the next half hour, they had all the pumpkins peeled and fried with spices mixed in. Pie crusts were brought from the ovens inside, filled with the hot mixture, then spirited away. Once Cairo was allowed free, he seemed a bit somber and even bitter. Maybe time-out did not work as well on adults. Ka tucked him into the hood of his overcoat, leaving his hands free to set to work.

When the pies were all squared away, he got back to his feet rather slowly, as if afraid he might bump his head, but there was nothing above him but grey skies. He more or less followed Yale around like an oversized duckling until he found something else to do. That "something else" happened to be helping someone hang decorations. One of the little giants was on a ladder trying to hang an autumn wreath, but the ladder was not cooperating. When Ka came up behind him to hold it steady, he met the man nearly eye-to-eye. He had not meant to scare him so badly, honest he hadn't, but he soon found himself left alone with the decorations.

"How...do I do this?" he mumbled to himself. It had been a while since he had last seen Yale, and from what he could tell, he had better things to do than babysit a tenderfoot.

"It doesn't matter," came a coarse voice behind him. Cairo was nearly asleep in his makeshift hammock. "Just hang em any old place. Your guess is as good as theirs."

"But I want to make it look nice," Ka said, unraveling a leafy garland. "They probably have a place where they normally put everything."

"Put a wreath on your head, it should fit," said the human as he picked his teeth.

"No, Cairo."

Farris emerged from the kitchens tired, but satisfied. The food had gone up on time and without issue and so he would have one more day without another one of Donal’s reprimands. Not that Farris put much weight in them. He was simply sick of hearing them.

In his hand, he carried a small but weighted purse and strode across the courtyard towards Ka. But he paused when he saw the boy hanging a garland, a task given specifically to Gjerk. He turned on his heels to holler down into the kitchens.

“Gjerk, ye twig-armed ninny!” he bellowed. “What kind of lame legged lizard are ye to be pawnin’ off yer duties, eh?”

The bushel of bright orange hair peeked warily out from the stairwell. “Nothing sir! It’s just…well, he’s so much taller and…”

“And too polite tell ye to fuck off,” he barked. “Go see Bart and tell him ye just volunteered to scrub the privies.”

The younger giant’s face fell, and he looked as though he wished to protest, but the seething glare from Farris burnt up any objections and the tenderfoot sullenly turned away.

Farris huffed and turned back to where Ka was finishing up the decorations.

“Ye did good work today, lad. Much appreciated,” he said and held out the purse. “This is fer you.”

The giant paused in his work, hurriedly hooked the garland over the corner of the roof, and pulled his arms close to his body. "I'm sorry?" He avoided the man's eyes, glancing instead to where he had seen the boy called "Yerk" disappear. His brow worried as he clenched his jaw. He felt so bad for causing the boy such trouble. "This?" he asked when the pouch was impatiently placed in his right palm. It sounded like coin. "You...want me to take this somewhere? To get more groceries or something?" He felt Cairo shifting in the hood on his back and silently hoped he would keep his mouth shut, but it was not to be.

"What is it." he demanded.

"Coin," Ka murmured.

"I wasn't asking you," he said, tugging on a lock of his brother's hair.

At the human’s tone, Farris snorted. The urge to reintroduce the human back into the cocotte was strong. However, the trade of effort and reward was too far skewed from his favor, and so he allowed it to pass without further comment, except to answer Cairo’s initial question.

“Yer pay,” he said to the human before turning his eyes upwards to Ka. “Honest pay fer an honest day’s work. And my thanks.”

He had been perhaps a little more generous than he would have been normally, but if there was one thing his mother had instilled within him more than anything, it was to make sure no one under his roof ever went hungry. Ka had done the job of two men, and clearly he had not been getting enough to eat to sustain his considerable height. For all his mass, the boy was not much more than an overgrown sapling. A decent wind could blow him over.

The boy needed more than just food for the moment. He needed the coin to get more down the road.Farris only hoped that whichever road Ka was going down, they accepted Vhasshalan minted coins.

Shaking his head, the giant opened the purse and prodded the coins. They were strange to him, and small, but he didn't need a scale to tell this was a decent amount of money. He frowned at it, confused. Was there something he'd misunderstood? "But...you fed me." He met the man's eyes and instantly wished he had not--they were the kind that could cut. He returned his gaze to the sack in his palm. "It was good food, too. You don't have to do this," he offered the sack back.

Something thumped him in the back of his neck. "Just accept it, you stupid dog," Cairo growled fiercely. "I'll not have you go hungry over your own--mrrph!" he sputtered as an enormous hand clamped over his head and chest. It only took about three seconds before he bit down on his brother's finger, which was answered with a yelp."--your own sheepishness," he finished.

Farris eyed the pouch sitting in Ka’s open palm, appearing laughably small, and growled. His favor was a hard-won thing, and perhaps he had grown a little too used to folks understanding just what it meant for him to bestow it upon them. Ka was a stranger, though, and did not have a full grasp of the minutiae of the Vhasshalan kitchens or the way in which Farris ran them. If he ever put any real meat on his bones, the lad would be a right mountain. He had an honest spirit about him but was as meek and timid as a beaten pup.

“Yer gonna stash that purse in yer damn pocket, boy,” he told the much taller giant with a forceful jab of his finger. “And yer gonna heed that one’s words. Or so help me I’ll kick yer sorry arse from here to Garrish Hills.”

Ka felt a light tap on the back of his neck "Toldja so," Cairo barked almost immediately.

"Oh..." he backed away from the upheld finger and tucked the coin purse against his body. This man came only up to his waist, and yet his strength of person made him take a step back.

Farris's words were softer this time, though. He was used to judging Cairo's levels of harshness, and somehow this tone worked at the corners of his mouth. Someone was being kind to him, he realized after a time, and it made him feel warm inside. "Thank you sir," he smiled and, without thinking, got down on his knees in the grass and wrapped his arms around the little man. "Thank you."

As Ka’s long arms encased him tightly--Gods the boy was stronger than he looked--hot indignation roiled up from Farris’s chest, and his first instinct was to fling his arms out and push him away. But as he heard Ka’s words of thanks, he paused. Begrudgingly. And then he heard a telltale sound of his cooks snickering from the doorway.

“Alright,” Farris mumbled, wiggling experimentally to prompt the other to release him. But when it was obvious that Ka had either not heard him or chose to ignore him, he pushed against the taller giant’s chest and stepped back, effectively yanking himself from Ka’s grip. “Alright I said!”

Ka backed away hurriedly, nearly falling on his haunches. The only thing that kept him from doing so was the fact that Cairo was still resting in his hood, and if he fell all the way back...

"S-sorry, sir. Thank you." Ka said as he steadied himself. The man scared him more than he'd like to admit. Yet in the back of his mind, Farris reminded him a lot of Cairo, and Cairo would not want him to be skittish of him. Ka frowned. For once in his life, he was glad his brother was no bigger than he was.

"Get up and dust your pants off," the human grumbled, pulling a ringlet of Ka's hair. "We've gotta get a move on. Come on, he's not gonna bite you." To this, the giant shook his head to free his hair but did as he was told.

Ka did his best to meet Farris's eye but could only manage such for a single second. "Thank you again, sir," he said as he backed away a few paces, then seemed to falter in place. "Wait, I almost forgot." He reached in his pocket and extracted a single coin the size of a human’s head, with a diamond hole cut in the center. "I wanted to give this to the girl, but...I forgot. It isn't worth much, but she likes collecting stones so I thought..." he shook his head and placed it in the man's hand as he had done for him. "Sorry, I've got to go, erm. Tell her goodbye for me if I don't see her on my way out...uhm thank you," he said for the fifth time, finally waving before turning heel.

"Real smooth, bud," Cairo sniped. Ka shrugged and grumbled as he made his way to the gatehouse. They were good people and, he realized, he may miss them. Maybe they would have him back someday, if he could find his way. The giant looked down to his chest-pocket and the coin purse that rested there and resolved to save at least one as a keepsake.

#crossover with doobdles

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currywaifu · 5 years ago

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𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐞: escape room 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩: minagi tsuzuru/reader 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: sfw 𝐰𝐜: 3.4k words, 3 images

𝐚𝐧: the combi of my love for this tsuzuru sr card + a certain enabler + my first time wearing handcuffs being in an escape room = the birth of this fic. it’s chaotic, but so is every escape room experience i’ve had. wtf is this fic.

One of the perks of having Tsuzuru as a boyfriend was that the two of you always found ways to have fun and go out on dates without spending a lot of money. Neither of you were big on splurging out a bunch of money anyway— not with you rather spending your allowance on necessities and Tsuzuru being the King of Part-timers™.

Watching community and college plays, having picnics, movie marathons, making dinner together, going grocery shopping, taking advantage of coupon sites, couples promos and happy hours to get great deals on things you wouldn’t normally be able to just for the ultimate discount...

It was domestic, it was homey, and it was Tsuzuru through and through; you loved every single second of it.

Which was why you were surprised when he suggested going to an escape room together.

“Those can be kind of pricey, right?” you replied, raising your voice slightly to make sure he could hear you despite the noise you were making in the kitchen. You turned the burner to high heat, scooching the veggies over to one side of the pan, melting the remaining butter in the other half.

“Oh, well, a friend gave me a 20% discount coupon. Apparently he didn’t need it anymore,” Tsuzuru’s voice was a little quiet coming from your phone’s speaker, and you quickly put down the soy sauce to adjust the volume before going back to the stove.

“I figured there was some kind of catch,” you replied with a soft chuckle as you continued stirring the veggies and sautéing the rice. “When do you wanna go? I know we’re both busy over the weekend, and that’s when we usually—“

Your hand halted its motions as soon as Tsuzuru uttered the word, “tomorrow.”

It wasn’t like you weren’t free, thankfully you only had one, albeit three hour, lecture during Tuesdays, but wasn’t he saying it a bit suddenly? It was a Monday evening, after all.

“Why tomorrow?”

Your boyfriend’s awkward laughter rang, but he remained undeterred as he explained to you his reasoning— going to an escape room would be a good way to get more writing experience, especially in terms of creating and feeling the ambience.

“Plus, not only is it cheaper if we go together, but the rates are also lower Monday to Thursday,” after a few seconds of silence on your part, he quickly added in, “and! And, we usually don’t have dates like this… so it’ll be fun, right?”

That thought process was so like Tsuzuru that you couldn’t help but smile.

Oh, the rice and veggies were already turning brown?

“You know what? I’m not even surprised,” you commented, adding and stirring in the rest of the ingredients. Ahhh, it was starting to smell heavenly, “by the way, have you had dinner yet?”

“About to. Excited to figure out what kind of curry we’re having,” a giggle escaped you upon hearing Tsuzuru’s deadpan voice, “are you almost done cooking?”

“Just about done!” after giving the rice a taste, you decided to season it with a pinch of salt and pepper, “thanks for giving me your fried rice recipe, by the way. Even though I’m the one cooking it, it feels like I’m about to eat something you made with love~”

As you were pretty much done with the kitchen, Tsuzuru’s exhale was a lot more audible to you. You could already envision the slight quiver in his tight-lipped grin and the way he would avert his eyes for a few seconds as he addressed you.

“Seriously, don’t be so cute,” he said, sounding a little exasperated, “sometimes I don’t know how to respond anymore.”

“A writer at a loss for words?” it was steadily getting difficult to keep the bubbling up amusement in check— you should probably be serving yourself dinner and accomplish your work for the night, but in the same manner it was always fun to flirt with the brunet. “When you put it that way, it makes me want to act even cuter for y—“

“Anyway!” you couldn’t hold back your laughter at his sudden interruption. Alright, that was enough for the both of you tonight.

“So are you free tomorrow?” he asked.

Well, who were you to be able to say no to that?

You completed signing the waiver the staff asked you to fill out, before turning to Tsuzuru.

“I forgot to ask, but which room are we playing? They have, like, 3 different ones here.”

Your eyes followed where Tsuzuru’s pointer finger landed— a simple but eerie poster in black and white, the three masks you could commonly see in craft stores plain and copies of one another, save for one thing. The first mask had gloved hands atop its eyeholes, the second had them covering where the ears would be, and the third had them placed over the lips.

Domain of Discernment.

“I don’t know much about it, but it’s one of the more popular ones. Apparently we’ll be held captive by some serial killer named Sire Maniac, and we’ll have one of our senses taken away,” he explained. Before he could potentially say anymore, one of the personnel went over to bring you right by the room entrance.

After giving a brief rundown of rules and some info about the room itself, she brought out an unused pair of foam earplugs and a blindfold. “Since there’s only two of you, we’ll be taking out the not being able to speak part. Both of you, choose who gets their sight or hearing removed for 50 minutes.”

You and Tsuzuru turned to look at each other, quietly discussing amongst yourselves which option would be more beneficial, coming to the conclusion that you would be the one to don the blindfold and he’d be the one with the earplugs.

“You might accidentally fall asleep if you had the blindfold,” you joked, “besides, I trust you to be able to guide me.”

Not one to be a killjoy or cheat, he plugged in the foam properly as you get your blindfold tied securely by the woman, making sure it definitely wouldn’t loosen up midway through the game.

When the both of you are within the room already, the both of you hear (well, Tsuzuru lip-reads) the woman say one more thing.

“After hand-cuffing you two and I leave the room, the timer will start. Good luck.”

… hand-cuffing?

With a sound of a click and seeing the door shutting from the distance, the both of you knew the timer would be counting down from 50 right about now.

You’re the first to speak up. You’re unsure where he’s facing right now, so you pulled your left hand knowing the pull of the metal chain would catch his attention, and you were right.

At the slight pressure on his right hand, he turned to face you with a hum leaving his mouth, and unexpectedly finding himself stupefied at the sight of you. You opened your mouth to say something, and he can excuse himself all he wanted that it was him not used to lip-reading yet, but he knew it wasn’t the truth.

He felt a little guilty, really. You both knew how flustered or embarrassed he could get around you, but how blissfully unaware you must be right now that his brain was literally mush because of your blindfolded self and how you were handcuffed to him. He, well, he never thought… no, he could never—

Time to kill that train of thought. Right now.

He should really be responding to you right now. What… what were you saying?

“You want me to describe our… surroundings?” he sighed in relief as you nodded. Okay, at least a part of him was still functioning properly. All he had to do was focus on that and not hyper focus on you.

The two of you were in a cell of sorts— barred, jail doors preventing your exit into a much larger room, which inevitably would lead to a door the both of you would escape to.

Though the jail room was significantly smaller, there were an assortment of items to sift and look through— boxes with and without locks, some papers scattered on a small desk, a lampshade that was left turned off, and a CD player were what stood out the most to him.

After relaying it to you, you pulled him again by your shared shackles as you asked him to read out what was in the papers—the first, a hint on how to figure out the number combination to unlock one of the boxes and a code decryption guide.

The second, a torn page from a “book” of either plants or poisons, based on the content and stylisation. Atropa belladonna, also known as deadly nightshade.

“Why are shade and floor highlighted though?”

Another pull on the cuffs. Another look at you— and trying not to be awkward about it as he combined his lip-reading with whatever the earplugs couldn’t block out of your voice.

“Shade? You said there was a lamp shade, right? Maybe a key or something is hidden under there?” you suggested, a pout set on your lips, “don’t know what the relevance of floor is, though.”

He didn’t have to look very far, the papers being situated on the desk beside the lampshade. It’s in his second time staring though that he realised something’s off with it. “You’re right, there’s something in the lampshade.”

When he lifted the bell-shaped cover, he’d come to find that there was no lightbulb in the first place, but a thin flashlight cleverly inserted within a vase. “If there’s a flashlight in the vase, then—“

“Shine a light on the floor!” you exclaimed, excited at the prospect of being able to move forward with the game, despite not being able to see.

Doing just that, he swished the flashlight left and right, verbally listing all the letters he could see.

“X, O, I, C, T…” you repeated, before trying to clap your hands (keyword: trying to, handcuffs say no), “the order is toxic! So the encrypt—“

“I’ll decode it ASAP,” Tsuzuru replied, immediately referring to the guide the “killer” oh so graciously left there.

“The passcode is… 420652,” he fumbled with the digits on the only 6 numbered padlocked box, before grinning, “alright, we got it!”

Another tug, and at this point he’s already aware that tug or pull on the cuff equals you having something to say.

“If they were gonna do a 420 joke, they should’ve inserted a 666 joke for the full eerie, creepy effect.”

Okay, just how was he able to lip read that perfectly? Was he just that used to the dumb jokes you made?

“I can just imagine your dream escape room— all the hints and puzzles are meme related,” the earplugs were unable to block your laugh, ringing through the room as he opened the box. A key, and a CD.

Knowing that between the two remaining boxes left, one of them needed a key so that was pretty much solved. The disc, on the other hand…

He called your name, you turning to face him based on the direction of his voice. “Since there’s a CD player and a CD, and unless I go really close I wouldn’t be able to hear anything—“

“I’ll listen carefully, no sweat!”

“I swear, if I hear the word wall another time, I will scream... and this isn’t even a horror room!”

The two of you came across your first real obstacle. Your audio just talked about poisonous vines growing on walls and other surfaces, while his box just contained another note that neither of you could decipher whatsoever. For five minutes, the two of you stood there, pondering.

Every once in a while, Tsuzuru would check the giant timer— currently displaying that 35 minutes were left.

“… honestly, just give it to me,” you suddenly spoke, Tsuzuru’s shoulders going up in shock.

“Give what?”

“The box! While we try to figure it out, I’ll use my nonexistent luck to just guess the passcode somehow,” you explained, feeling up the type of padlock it was “it’s just rolling everything around anyway until it magically opens.”

Within less than a minute, you had figured out the passcode.

“I’m—“ Tsuzuru trailed off, clearly just as shocked as you were. Your eyes probably would’ve been wide open right now.

“Eye… so this is where all my luck went,” you said, before shaking your head to refocus yourself, “okay! So inside the box is a… another key? It has buttons… car key?”

You hand the object to the brunet, who, upon taking it from you spared no second in his next actions.

“Wall,” he said out loud, pointing the car keys at the wall. With one press of a button, the wall, slowly but surely, opened to reveal another room. Though you couldn’t see it, the sound was loud enough to amaze you as well.

“Worm,” you breathed out, “pretty lit, not gonna lie.”

You wouldn’t know but the room was actually extremely dark, so not lit at all. Thank god he had a flashlight or else the handcuff + your blindfold + him not being able to lip read combo would be… particularly deadly.

The misunderstandings, he could already imagine it. Ah, well, for the writing experience.

“I don’t know what worm means, but yeah, lit.”

“Sorry,” Tsuzuru apologised as he bumped into you for the nth time.

Obstacle number two was unlike any other. It wasn’t another audio recording, neither a puzzle nor riddle.

“Ah, shit, sorry!” you shouted for the nth time, raising your voice as much as you could so Tsuzuru would be able to hear you properly.

This was getting ridiculous. You were able to figure out the meaning of an audio file after a few loops, while Tsuzuru got to work reading more clues and unlocking locks. The real problem, however, was since the room was dark and had limited space, the two of you tended to crash against one another even with what limited movement you could make.

You had to wonder— did the staff get some sort of amusement or feel any pity watching people stumble around in this room through the CCTV? It wasn’t so bad in the jail room, but this closet? storage? room gave you two a run for your money. How did other people get through this room, genuinely? Especially the bigger parties?

“… I have an idea,” Tsuzuru mentioned. You wait for him to tell you what it is, his hesitance confusing you. However, before you could have said anything, you felt his strong arms wrapped around you.

Was… was there an equivalent to a verbal keyboard smash? Even if you weren’t saying it out loud to save you the embarrassment, the fact still stood that your brain was legit going ztesxrdctijmoljhnge right now. Help—

“How does this… help?” you asked, still a little confused by his motive. He wasn’t really one for PDA, and despite the two of you being the only ones in the room the fact still stood that the escape room staff are probably required to glance at the CCTV monitors every once in a while to check up on you two.

“Since we’re… handcuffed, and there’s barely any space it’d be better to just stay together,” he explained as nonchalantly as possible, “sorry, it’s just for this room. We’ll go back to normal when we get to the last room.”

See, if your brain was working right now, you’d be able to think of a counter or a better solution— actually, if you could see right now maybe you could point out something about Tsuzuru’s face that screamed he was lying, but something about escape rooms just made your logic go brrr.

That, or you were just a simp for your own boyfriend.

… not gonna lie, the chances of it being both were pretty high.

“Makes sense. Can’t bump into each other when you’re already stuck together,” you said, already convincing yourself.

Sorry to whoever’s manning the CCTV monitor, it was their fault for handcuffing the two of you anyway.

Well, this set up wasn’t that bad. Other than, you know, getting to hug Tsuzuru, you were able to still keep doing your task while he did—

You heard the padlock unlock after your fingers pressed a certain combination of numbers. Pushing the device upwards, the cabinet doors opened as you removed the lock.

“It’s a digit push combination padlock! How are you doing this? Blindfolded?”

“I… I have guessing powers. For locks.”

“I’m considering robbing a bank or business with you now.”

“Awww, cute couple’s date idea!”

After two or three minutes of Tsuzuru doing some last minute riddle solving, the sound of jingling keys and him letting go of you let you know of one thing— you two were almost out.

With a writer compromising one half of the team, and an exceptional guesser and context clue figure-outer as the other half, you weren’t gonna lie— the last room was kind of anti-climatic to go through.

…

SIKE!

Every time the two of you ever accomplished anything, be it decrypting a message, unlocking something, or finding a hidden item the two of you still reacted to it— Tsuzuru being more on the shookt side and you being on the hype side.

With fifteen minutes to spare, only one thing was left to do— finding who Sire Maniac’s real name, and then decoding that name into number form so you could use it on the exit’s number pad lock. It was pretty obvious to you that you had to use the number equivalents of the name, but first… you needed to know the name.

“You sure you don’t want to try your luck?” Tsuzuru teased, procuring a huff out of you.

There were only two clues. The first was a letter to an A. R. Nicolas, detailing something about being thankful for a book.

Initially, the two of you thought that that A. R. Nicolas would be his real name, but clearly it was some sort of pen name based on the second clue— several torn pages from a book penned by the very same A. R. Nicolas the letter was addressed to.

It was clear— Sire Maniac and A. R. Nicolas were the same person, but what was his third identity? His real identity?

“What are the poisons on the torn pages again? Those usually have something to do with the answer,” you asked Tsuzuru. The sound of shuffling of paper entered your ears as he began listing them off.

“Ricin, amatoxin, tetradotoxin, chloropicrin, batrachotoxin… and arsenic.”

“Huh… arsenic is the only one that ends differently, lol,” you pointed out with a laugh, before it quickly died as the realisation dawned on you, “no fucking way.”

“Okay what the hell, I think you’re on to something,” Tsuzuru replied hastily, “because A. R. Nicolas, as in A. R. Nic. Arsenic.”

“Tsuzuru. Tsuzuru. Tsuzuru—“ you chanted, before laying out one last game-changer, “Sire Maniac. Is a fucking anagram. For I am Arsenic.”

With a speedy enter of the number 2773642, the two of you had achieved freedom.

“Not gonna lie, some parts of it were a little cliche, but… I had fun,” you told him, the two of you walking home together, “I felt simultaneously dumb and a genius at the same time.”

“Same to both, honestly,” Tsuzuru replied, before looking down at your hand linked with his. “Huh, haven’t you had enough of being stuck with me?”

You rolled your eyes. “I could say the same to you— didn’t you totally take advantage of us being handcuffed together? Or me being blindfolded?”

It was just a joke, but Tsuzuru’s sudden sputtering caught you off guard. Did… aha, no way, did he actually enjoy that gimmick?

“Tsu~ zu~ ru~”

“Whatever you’re thinking, that’s not it—“

“Are you sure? Because—“

“You’re misunderstanding something.”

“I’m just saying, it’s better to be honest~”

As the stoplight turned red, the two of you finally found the time to take a good look at each other. The laughter that erupted was instantaneous.

“Thanks for going out with me today,” Tsuzuru said softly, the blooming smile on his face impossible for you to not mirror.

“Thank you for inviting me,” you replied, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

After a few seconds, the stoplight turned green, and the two of you continue making your way back home.

want to order again?

𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐨 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐟𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐞𝐬: ⤷ curium fairway (the person who sent arsenic the letter) is an anagram for “i am currywaifu”.

⤷ the “reader is good at guessing part” is just based off of me. being really good at guessing padlock combinations. ⤷ the hugging part was based on my two irl friends (who are dating) hugging in front of the cctv

⤷ the “one sense gets removed” and “being handcuffed to someone” part is based on two different escape rooms i played

⤷ i wasn’t supposed to make a whole concept for the escape room with media and riddles... but i decided to finally make use of all the research i did before on poison. am i on a watchlist?

#a3!#a3! act! addict! actors!#tsuzuru minagi #tsuzuru minagi x reader #minagi tsuzuru #cafe: dessert menu #a3! tsuzuru #a3! imagines #a3! x reader

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curedeity · 4 years ago

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The City Kids

Summary: Akiza doesn't know why she agreed to babysit the twins, it had been a long while she'd had to interact with a child for more than a few minutes. Really, couldn't anyone else have done this? Oh well, since she was here, she'd have to make the most of it.

Large empty houses, complete with white walls and pristine floors cleaned by a collection of staff, were nothing new to Akiza. Her mother had worked part-time, and her father had been a mayor, so their house had always been lavish and vacant except for Akiza. Sometimes, Akiza wondered that if she had gotten a different deck, or been a bit more lost in the past on the day she had chosen her moniker, would she have been known as the Rose Ghost?

It was a particularly stupid thought, but sometimes stupid thoughts were at least entertaining, and that included when it was sitting around a table with Leo and Luna and coming up with new monikers for all three of them.

Out of perhaps all the Signers, the twins were the people Akiza held the least ill-will against. She still couldn’t help but be a bit peeved at Yusei for his initial win against her, and Jack and Crow were… loud. Despite Akiza’s unilaterally positive feelings towards the twins, she had still panicked for over an hour when she had been asked to babysit them for the day.

Beyond the fact that Akiza had no skills with young children, these two children happened to be ones that she had been responsible for traumatizing. Perhaps not directly, but she had been a part of Arcadia, and she had been there for Leo’s duel against Sawyer. She wouldn’t blame either of them for being at least a little wary of her, if not outright hostile.

To her surprise, when she had entered their apartment, Leo had immediately demanded a duel with her, and Luna had peppered her with shy questions about her powers.

Akiza… wasn’t very comfortable with dueling a ten year-old when she was only now truly learning to control her powers, but Leo didn’t seem too put off by her refusal, instead he had started showing her his deck and babbling on.

Somehow, that situation had ended with them sitting at the table and coming up with stage names for each of them. Leo insisted on calling them superhero names, which Luna had commented was just the influence of too many cartoons. Now, that had started an argument.

“Superheroes are super cool and you just don’t like them because you don’t have taste!” Leo waved his hands around, nearly smacking his sister’s face by accident, though she leaned back just in time. “They come in and--- and they save the day like woosh and talk about how you’re supposed to do the right thing!”

“But spies actually have brains? Yknow, like, braincells? I know you lost yours in the supermarket, but they actually do help with problem-solving.” Akiza had not known until today how sarcastic Luna could be, and she could honestly say that if she wasn’t panicking at how to stop the argument, she would’ve been impressed. “Superheroes can talk about doing the right thing, but ultimately they just punch people and propagate a cycle of violence.”

“They do not! They’re trying to stop these people from committing murder! And most of them don’t commit murder themselves, it’s all about showing how you don��t need to be mean to stop people from being mean!” Leo cried out.

“Those lessons may hold in stories, but in real life murder seems like a very viable option. I would’ve loved to stab that ape king that nearly killed me in the spirit world,” Luna countered.

Akiza should’ve never agreed to babysit. If Akiza was a ghost, at least then she wouldn’t be subject to whatever punishment she was met with for letting the children get this rowdy.

Well, here goes nothing.

Akiza cleared her throat, catching the attention of neither child. They continued her argument, blissfully unaware of her imploding existence. “Murder isn’t a good answer to your problems, Luna.” She finally got out.

Luna turned to meet Akiza’s eyes, embarrassment flooding her countenance. Unlike her snappish, sarcastic tone with her brother, Luna was much shy in her speech to Akiza. “Sorry, I know that.”

“I mean, property damage is a much better way to make someone leave you alone and fear you,” Akiza added, because from her slight memories of interacting with children, she knew you weren’t just supposed to chastise them, but rather direct them towards better behaviors. Positive reinforcement.

Luna blinked at her, clearly mulling over Akiza’s advice, while Leo had also fallen silent as he considered Akiza’s point. “But if we committed property damage, wouldn’t that security guy who chased Yusei everywhere come after us?” Leo pointed out.

...who? Was Leo referring to Officer Trudge? Perhaps this was something Akiza had missed while she had remained in Arcadia.

Nevertheless, Leo’s point about the police was a good one, however… “It depends on where the property damage is, I suppose. If we’re talking about the spirit world, I doubt they have a police force that would chase you there.” Akiza responded, and they both turned to Luna to confirm that point.

“I don’t remember there being any police in the spirit world, it’s more community governed, and I doubt any of the spirits would mind,” Luna shrugged.

“Then yes, property damage seems like a perfectly reasonable way to solve that hypothetical problem,” Akiza nodded, and both children looked at her with wide, adoring eyes.

It was terrifying.

“...You wanna watch cartoons now?” Leo offered.

Luna scoffed at her brother’s offer before Akiza could even respond. “Akiza’s an adult, she obviously doesn’t want to watch your superhero cartoons, we should watch my spy ones instead!”

The two continued arguing while Akiza went and cooked some popcorn, the sound of kernels exploding masking their sounds. Her advice hadn’t stopped them from arguing for long, so now she was on to plan b, which was giving them food so they had no room in their mouths for sly comments.

And with her in control of the remote and ordering that they take turns, the rest of the day was a bit less eventful overall.

It wouldn’t be until months later that Luna asked Akiza for the best way to burn down a castle.

#yugioh #yugioh 5ds #akiza izinski and luna and leo hanging out #akiza shouldnt be put on babysitting duty #fanfiction #fanfic #post season 1 pre season 2 #so akiza still doesnt know how to interact with people #this was just written for fun and because akiza is my favorite #listen if these three joined forces the entire city would be in flames and thats why yusei is in charge

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bailey-whalieee · 4 years ago

Text

Things Are Different Now

TWO

✮

After the incident on Friday, Maggie spent the rest of her weekend boarded up in her room refusing to leave bed unless it meant going to the bathroom or for a shower. Her father’s grew suspicious after the fact she refused to go to the doctors office for a check-up.

Honestly, avoiding them really wasn’t her best option, but at this point what else could she do.

Monday snuck up on the girl uncharacteristically fast, and the moment her door opened and the lights turned on, she hid underneath the blankets. It earned a huff of annoyance from Steve and Bucky.

“Maggs, doll, time to get up,” Bucky sighed, pulling the duvet off of her head, “c’mon..”

No.

Please don’t make me go, she thought to herself.

Her eyes were swollen and red, making Steve furrow his eyebrows. Maggie woke up three times during the night due to a recurring nightmare that wouldn't go away. She took three melatonin pills and listened to mozart for most of the night and still, the screams and the military style boots haunted her dreams.

“Maggie, get up honey. Let’s not make this harder than it needs to be, kay?” Steve softly commanded, patting the mess of hair on top of her head.

Begrudgingly, she peeled the covers off of her body glaring at her two father’s who just chuckled and exited her room. Ding!

Who the fuck was texting her this early?

M&M

police are all over campus today. looking for kid’s who were at the party…

6:36 am

Her heart stopped beating for a second. All the air in her lungs evaporated and expelled itself. This couldn’t be happening. Holy shit. She was at the party. Steve and Bucky would be so disappointed if they found out she went and then didn’t even have the nerve to stop the man.

Maggs

please tell me you’re joking..

6:39am

She rushed trying to find a decent outfit which consisted of a random jumper, leggings, and high-top converses. Maggie didn’t bother to even brush the mop of hair instead choosing to throw into a bun and heading down the stairs.

M&M

maggie deadass, there are fbi agents crawling all over the halls.

6:40 am

Maggie paused mid-step into the kitchen until a clearing of someone’s throat knocked her back to reality.

“Sweetheart, your sweatshirt is on backwards..” Steve informed, taking a sip of his coffee causing a chuckle to elicit from Bucky. She quickly fixed the issue and grabbed a water bottle out of the pantry.

“Maggie, did you hear about what happened at that party? Can’t remember if we talked about or not?”

Her body came to an immediate halt, they know, she was fucked. Maggie could feel her heart thumping at an unreasonable pace and her throat tightened unpleasantly. Gods, now her dad’s knew about this..

“Doll?” Bucky called out, pulling her out of her inner battle.

Gulping, she turned on her heels, “um, I should probably be getting to school. Bye dad, papa.”

Both of their faces were puzzled as she rushed out of the door and the door slammed shut. Harsh breaths escaped her lungs as Maggie sprinted down the cement walkway, evoking a deja vu moment to hit her like bricks.

Immediately, Maggie stopped in her tracks. The gun shots. The blood. The bodies. The screams. The end.

They were like mental snap-shots she made in her mind and no matter how loud her music was or whatever she did to distract herself, nothing would ever erase them. She couldn’t shut it out.

7:50AM

“Fuck!” she stared at time on her phone.. Maggie was late, very late. And that meant a phone call home plus a tardy from her first period teacher. Again, she chased pavement until she arrived at Midtown High.

The late bell had already rang and Emma wasn’t wrong about FBI agents crawling around the school. She passed six police officers just by walking down the hallway, who gently smiled at her as she skidded by.

‘Act natural and they won’t suspect a thing,’ Maggie thought to herself.

But, slipping into first period math wasn’t exactly natural, especially when you were Maggie Rogers-Barnes. She sat in the back trying to avoid the students around her, popping up the hood to her sweatshirt and slouching into the desk. It seemed to work. Nobody noticed her nor did her first period teacher even spare a glance.

“Good morning students, I’m sure most of you are aware of the shooting that took place over the weekend. We ask you to come together as a community to love one another and support each other during this trying time. Friday night we will be honoring the students who passed away, if you have any information that would be helpful on the investigation please come to the front office.”

Maggie clenched her eyes shut trying to forget about everything around her. Her head fell gently against the desk letting sleep wash over her.

✮

It seemed like no matter what Maggie kept running into FBI agents and cops throughout her school day. Guilt ate her alive, but she couldn’t say anything.. Everyone would look at her differently and not to mention the anger both of her father’s would feel.

So, when the DA requested for Maggie to come to the office for an interview, every step held guilt. She went against every instinct in her body. Every little voice telling her to speak up and do the right thing.

Maggie Rogers-Barnes had officially broken all three rules her father’s placed, and the amount of hate she abhorred for herself was shocking. She wanted to tell the truth, but she couldn’t.

“Hello, Maggie. I’m defense attorney Lewis Brooke, and this is Agent Erin Alim. We just want to ask you a couple questions, if that’s okay?” he introduced, allowing her to sit down.

She nodded, picking at the skin around her nails, “of course.”

“Were you at the party when the shooting took place?” Lewis asked, clicking the top of his pen.

She tried to focus on anything, but the legal pad and the lists of names crossed out on it. “No.”

He perched one eyebrow, almost as if he didn’t believe her, “but you do know the students who were at the party? Can you think of anyone who would want to hurt them, maybe even another classmate who would want to hurt them?”

“The only person who I really know is Emma and Peter. I don’t know who was at the party, I’ve just heard of their names, ya know?” she shrugged, chewing on her cheek.

“You’re free to go,” he gave a curt nod, sighing.

Gathering herself, Maggie got up to leave. “Oh and Maggie,” she turned on her heels facing the DA, “I know both of your fathers. Worked with them actually, so I trust that you would tell me if you knew anything. You’re a good kid. I don’t doubt that you would come forward if you knew what happened. Have a good day and if you hear anything, you know where to find me.”

‘I’m most definitely fucked now.’ She thought, giving a brief smile and quickly exiting the office. If her dad’s knew the defense attorney and found out about what happened at the party and figured she straight up lied, god’s they would disown her..

Maggs

you can’t tell them anything, emma. nothing. if they ask if we were

at the party, we werent. got it?

2:25 pm

The final bell sounded above her and kids of all ages skidded and ran down the halls of midtown high. It kept Maggie sane knowing she could at least go home now, even if she didn’t really want too.

“Maggie? Hey!”

Peter Parker waved over at her with a rather big grin appearing on his face.

Being a daughter of two avengers, Maggie and Peter were bound to be best friends. Uncle Tony had practically adopted the boy and Maggie spent most of her life living in the tower up until, four years ago.

So, they spent quite a lot of time together. Even now. Peter and Maggie had routined game nights at Tony’s and movie nights.

“Peter.. Hey,” she sighed, holding onto the strap of her backpack.

His brow furrowed as they began to walk down the crowded hallway, “are you okay?”

Maggie nodded quickly trying to avoid the situation. Peter was a bit of a tattletell.. Although, it completely came out of love especially if she was in trouble or hurting.

“Pete, I gotta go. I’ll see you around,” she rushed out, stumbling out the side door.

Peter tried to call out to her, but she just kept her head down and disappeared into the crowd of kids. Her feet stumbled over one another, almost hitting the pavement at the pace she travelled.

✮

Steve’s laugh echoed throughout the kitchen as Bucky made a huffing noise towards the half cooked failure of a casserole. He tried, and that’s the only thing that mattered to Steve. But, they were going to have to opt for take-out tonight.

The edges were burnt to crisp, and the middle congealed together; a soggy, crisp mess.

“Looks like we are getting chinese again. ‘Least Maggie will be thrilled,” he sighed, tossing the oven mitts to the side.

Steve shook his head pecking his cheek softly, “it’s alright, Buck.”

The inedible food found itself into the garbage can and the two men sat across from each other sipping on their mugs.

“Did you notice how exhausted Maggs looked this morning? God’s Bucky, I almost wanted to tell her to go back to bed. Makes me worried..”

“I know, Stevie.. She was off this weekend, for sure.”

The front door finally opened and their daughter walked through, footsteps heavy and weighed down by a nuisance they were all familiar with. She let the backpack hit the floor with a thud that reverberated through the house.

She contemplated going to her room and hiding again, but her dad’s were already suspicious.

Maggie resided on the couch, body stretched over the whole couch taking most of its space. Her eyes were trained on the wall before her, the buzz of the television coaxed her eyelids to droop the slightest.

Waves of tiredness hit her like a bus.

“Hey doll, can we talk? I’m sure you probably already know what happened though?” Steve’s soft voice astounded.

“Dad I don’t really-”

“Maggs, trust me. We both know you don’t wanna talk about this, but we have too. Sweetheart, we just want to know if you’re okay, s’all,” Bucky hushed, running a hand down her spine comfortingly.

Tears began to build up in the corners of her eyes. She sat up trying to hide the fact that the tears were begging to fall down her cheeks, but something just broke within her. Maggie couldn’t stop the dam from breaking.

And they began to fall down her flushed face.

“Honey..”

She tried to keep the sobs to a minimum, but it felt like the world was weighing her down. Maggie couldn’t tell them the truth, she couldn’t open up about what happened and it tore her apart.

“I’m so scared, dad.”

Both Bucky's and Steve’s face dropped. Encircling her in their arms, she shook and trembled against them. Her cries turned into soft, futile whimpers.

“Doll, I can promise you that no one is ever going to lay a hand on you or even attempt to hurt you, okay?” Bucky cooed, wiping the fallen tears off her cheek.

‘I wish that were true.’

Maggie clenched her eyes shut hiding her face against Steve’s sweatshirt. His arms wrapped against her protectively and she took in the familiar scent. It brought her back to her early childhood, when she would get nightmares and hide her face in either of her father’s chest.

“We gotcha’ sweet girl. Nobody is going to hurt you,” he smoothed down her hair, shushing her whimpers.

They stayed like that for a while. The two men comforted her cries until her once labored breaths calmed and little snores erupted from her mouth. Steve and Bucky smiled, kissing her on the top of her head.

Both being too oblivious to realize that she just wasn’t scared. She was terrified..

✮

taglist: @rose-moon-mist

#steve x oc #steve x reader #steve x you #steve rogers x daughter!reader #bucky x oc #bucky x you #bucky x reader #stucky x reader #stucky x you #stucky x daughter!reader #stucky x oc #marvel x reader

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hopelikethemoon · 5 years ago

Text

Freedom (Javier x Reader) {MTMF}

Title: Freedom Rating: PG-13 Length: 3000 Warnings: None Notes: You can find everything about Maybe Today, Maybe Forever here. This is a Javier-less chapter, which is why I noted that this would be a very different type of update. This chapter is set in September of 1977, when Reader is 16. If you don’t know her backstory you can find info at the link above. If you want to know who I see as Mitch and Darla click on their names. Summary: Reader finally escapes her situation.

@grapemama @seawhisperer @huliabitch @pedropascalito @rogrsnbarnes@thewallpapergoesorido @twomoonstwosuns @gooddaykate @livasaurasrex @ham4arrow@plexflexico @readsalot73 @hdlynn @lokiaddicted @randomness501 @fioccodineveautunnale @roxypeanut @snivellusim @lukesrighthand @historynerd04 @mrsparknuts@synystersilenceinblacknwhite @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @exrebelshocktrooper@awesomefandomsunited @ah-callie @swhiskeys @lady-tano @beskar-droids @space-floozy @cable-kenobi @cool-ultra-nerd @himbopoes @findhimfives @pedrosdoll @frietiemeloen@arrowswithwifi @random066 @uncomicalhumour @heather-lynn @domino-oh-damn @cyarikaaa @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @im-still-a-pieceofgarbage @ksgeekgirl @yabby-girl @xqueenofthecraziesx @punkass-potato @coredrive @pascalesque@theduchessofkirkcaldy @queenquazar @sabinemorans @buckstaposition @holkaskrosnou@yespolkadotkitty @fleetwoodmactshirt @seeking-a-great–perhaps @kochamcie @jaime1110

“You’ll have your own room,” Mitch explained, glancing at you out of the corner of his eyes. “That’ll be nice, right?”

You nodded your head slowly, rubbing at your forehead as you watched the outskirts of the city bleed into the towering office buildings and quaint streets lined with brownstones and historic homes. You had never been out of your hometown and Philadelphia seemed like a daunting change of pace.

Your life up until this point had been confined to a perimeter that contained your house and school.

“And you’ll never have to live through another one of those floods.” Mitch rambled — he’d rambled a lot since he had picked you up nearly four hours ago. “That had to be scary.”

You shrugged, picking at the hem of your tee. “Not the worst thing to happen to me.” You admitted, glancing out the window again. “My mom acted like the world was going to end because she couldn’t get out of the house. Like goddamn mom, people are dead.”

Mitch cleared his throat, “I’m not looking to parent you, but you know Darla and I have a Tate—“

“Shit.” You laughed quietly, covering your mouth. “I’ll try to curb the cussing.”

“Thanks.” He nodded his head. “And you know Darla and I are here for you, if you ever need anything.”

“I’m not looking to be a burden, promise.” You told him, winding your finger through a lock of hair as you watched out the window. “You don’t even have to feed me.”

“I’m not going to let you go hungry.” Mitch gave you a look. “Come on now, kid.”

“I can cook!” You scrunched up your nose. “I just don’t want you or Darla to feel like I’m taking advantage of your hospitality.” The last thing you wanted was to become your mother. Leeching off other people.

“You’re my sister.”

“We share a father,” You pointed out. “Be glad you don’t share my mother.”

“Dad told me plenty of stories.” Mitch grimaced, “I don’t know how you made it out of there in one piece, kid.”

“I might have nine toes. I haven’t counted lately.” You snorted, “Think there’s a black market in toes for coke?”

“Jesus Christ.” He grimaced, before quickly changing the subject. “That’s the school you’ll be going to.”

You peered out the window at the school, “Better than Richland.”

“It’s where Darla went. It’s a great preparatory school for girls.”

“An all-girls school?” You groaned, crossing your arms across your chest.

“You're more likely to get a scholarship there.”

“Fine.” You couldn’t pass up an opportunity like that. You still had the two and a half years of school to finish before you could think about college — but a scholarship would help. “I don’t need any distractions anyways.”

Mitch gave you a curious look, “Kid, you’re allowed to be a teen, you know. Don’t hold back from living just because you’re staying with us.”

“It’s not that,” You chewed on the inside of your cheek. “I’ve never really been a kid or whatever. I don’t plan on regressing just because I don’t have to deal with the witch.”

“Dad always said you were wise beyond your years,” Mitch remarked, turning down Chestnut Street and parking the car in front of a gorgeous brick townhome.

“You live here?”

“Darla’s folks gifted it to her when they moved out west,” Mitch explained to you as he put the car in park.

“Oh so, rich-rich.” You gave him an amused look. “Looking at you, pitching out of your league.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Mitch rolled his eyes, climbing out of the car and shutting the car door behind him.

You climbed out of the car, moving around to the trunk as he unlocked it. “I really do appreciate this, Mitch. I’ll do whatever you guys need me to do. Vacuuming, dishes, I’ll even babysit — I can’t promise I’m good.”

“Kid, you’re family not the new nanny.”

“New?”

“We’re in-between currently.”

“Jesus.” You whistled. “Well, I promise not to bring the property value down. It’ll be like I’m not even there. Promise.”

Mitch shook his head, “I look forward to you warming up to us. This can be your home, kid. You don’t have to act like a visitor.”

You shrugged your shoulders as you slung your duffel bag over your shoulder. “I tried the ‘home’ thing, but dad’s dead... so.”

“I’m just saying, you can put down roots.” Mitch pulled the cardboard box out of the trunk, before he started up the stairs to the townhouse. Darla must’ve been waiting just behind the door, because she swung it open the second your feet hit the stop.

“Look at you!” Darla grinned broadly at you, “You’ve shot up like a weed since the wedding.”

“We saw each other at the funeral,” You reminded her with an awkward laugh, tucking your hair behind your ear as you warily looked around their house. “But thanks.”

Mitch was about thirteen years older than you. You had seen him only a handful of times over the course of your life. His mother, Patrice, had always been kind to you — your father and Patrice were the type of divorced parents you’d wished your own mother had been. They were still friends, up until his death.

Before the funeral, the last time you had seen Mitch was at his wedding. He’d wanted you to actually be part of the wedding, but someone had gone postal at the thought of someone else’s family liking you. You were also only ten — what could you do about anything?

“Tate, sweetheart, this is your aunt.” Darla crouched down beside the little boy. “Say hello.”

“Hello!”

“Hi, Tate.” You smiled at him. “And how old are you?”

“Almost six.” He beamed, “Do you like cars?”

You shrugged, “They get you from point a to point b.”

“He’s been collecting Hot Wheels.” Mitch explained to you, “I’m sure he’ll show you his collection.”

Tate nodded excitedly. “Do you wanna see them now?”

“Oh—“

Mitch ruffled Tate’s hair, “Actually buddy, I’m sure your aunt would love to see them, but we need to get her unpacked. Alright?”

You glanced at Mitch before looking back to Tate, “You can show me after dinner.”

“Why don’t you go play out back?” Darla suggested, sending Tate down the hallway. “He’s been so excited about having someone to play with.”

“I see.” You nodded, your eyes flickering around the entryway, back towards the living room area. It was different to see a house that was put together. They had nice pieces of furniture and none of them were broken or unusually stained.

Mitch cleared his throat, “If you want to, of course. Six-year-old boys can be quite rambunctious.”

You offered a strained smile, “I’m happy to help, like I said.”

“Do you need help with anything from the car?” Darla questioned, clasping her hands together. “That can’t be all you broug—“

Mitch made a gesture to silence her, which you caught out of the corner of your eyes and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“This is all I have,” You gestured between your duffel bag and the box he held. “I promised I wouldn’t take up too much room.”

“Speaking of your room,” Darla grinned at you. “I hope you don’t hate purple. I went a little overboard once Mitch brought up you moving in.”

She led you up a flight of stairs lined with family pictures, which led to a hallway of bedrooms.

“Ours is at the end of the hall, beside Tate’s. You’re over here.” Mitch explained, pushing open the doorway that led to a bedroom that was at least double what your room had been before.

“Wow.” You breathed out as you stepped inside, holding your duffel bag close to you as you looked around. “Guys, I told you I didn’t need much, this feels…”

“Homey?” Darla questioned. “That’s what I was going for.”

You put on a smile as you nodded your head. You knew you had to be grateful. Mitch didn’t have to give you a place to live. Sure, your dad had wanted it, but that didn’t mean he had to.

You were emancipated from your mother now, you could go anywhere — live…. anywhere. Realistically, you had three options; your mother’s, Mitch’s, or the street.

“Homey… is a great word.” You threw your duffle bag down on the foot of the bed, watching as Mitch sat the cardboard box with your few personal items down on the floor.

“You’ll be starting at Girls’ High next week.” Darla explained. “We can go shopping for your uniform this weekend. That’ll give you a few days to settle into your new life here.”

“Thank you,” You told her with a slightly more sincere smile. “Thank you both.”

Mitch scratched at the back of his neck, “Yeah, well, it’s what dad would’ve wanted.”

“I miss him.”

“Me too.” He nodded. “Alright, well we will give you a chance to settle in. Dinner is usually around six.”

Darla smiled at you, “No pressure. You can join us or I can bring a plate up. I know things have been a bit chaotic for you.”

You tucked your hair behind your ears and nodded, “You don’t have to make dinner for me. I would be happy with a cheese sandwich.”

She shook her head, “I won’t hear of that. I’ll bring it up to you. How’s that sound?”

“Good.” You kicked off your shoes and sank down on the side of your bed. It was a real bed. Matching sheets, a mattress topper, and nice metal headboard.

It looked new, which really was a novelty.

You waited until Mitch and Darla could be heard walking down the steps, before you sank back on the bed and finally relaxed.

You didn’t know how long it would take you to really be relaxed. Being on edge had kept you alive this long. But it was a feat not to give into the urge to grab the chair that sat at the vanity and wedge it under the doorknob.

You covered your face with your hands, letting out a heavy sigh as you let the reality of your new life settle in.

Next week would mark a new beginning. A new school, a new chance to be someone. You weren’t beholden to anyone but yourself now. If you failed, it was your own fault. You weren’t trapped under the shadow of your mother.

Though, the thought of having to wear a uniform until you graduated sounded like bullshit.

You pushed yourself back upright, looking around the room for the folder you’d spotted sitting on the vanity. You climbed off the bed to retrieve the fold. It was white and yellow, with the school seal set in the center. Darla had clearly gone to great lengths filling everything out for you — the forms were mostly filled in, save for your name and signature where it was necessary.

Apparently, you had just missed the father-daughter dance.

You closed the folder and sat it back on the vanity, before you retreated back to the bed to collect the cardboard box. You didn’t have much to unpack.

A framed picture of you and your father that had spent the better part of its existence hidden from your mother’s sight; the trophy you won freshman year for the science fair; three of your favorite books; and bedside alarm clock.

Aside from that, you had only taken the clothes you wore most often, not even bothering to worry about other seasons. You had enough money to buy new clothes in the winter.

And with uniforms for school — you didn’t have to worry about other classmates judging you for repeating outfits.

School was just a means to an end. Get good grades, get a scholarship, and do something worthwhile. Something that would actually help someone.

Your mother had screamed at you that you were worthless — that you would never amount to anything because you were ungrateful — more times than you cared to recall. You had to prove her wrong. One day, she’d see that her daughter had amounted to something. Not because of her, but in spite of her.

——

“How did you sleep last night?” Darla questioned as you joined her in the kitchen, sitting down at the kitchen table across from Tate.

“The bed was super comfortable,” You offered, preferring not to tell her that you hadn’t slept at all. Though there were bags under your eyes that told a different story.

You had slept for an hour — maybe two. You couldn’t relax, despite how hard you had tried. You had gone to sleep on a comfortable bed, with clean sheets, and a full stomach, but sleep just didn’t come to you.

The only reason you slept at all was because you had gotten up and put the chair in front of the door. The house was quiet — there were no addicts down the hall getting high, no yelling, no chaos, but your mind told you there could be.

Darla sat a glass of juice down in front of you, “Do you drink coffee?”

“Yeah,” You nodded, taking a sip of the juice. “Cream and sugar if you don’t mind.”

“Sweetheart, I don’t mind at all. I know you think you’re a burden to us, but I’m happy to have you here. Really.”

“I don’t want to be a charity case.” You told her, taking another sip of your juice as Mitch walked down the stairs and joined all of you in the kitchen.

“Well, you’re not one. So don’t worry.”

“Hey, kid.” Mitch gave your shoulder a pat as he walked past the table. “Didn’t know if you’d come down.”

You shrugged, “The smell of coffee was too strong of a temptation.”

“Do you have plans for the day?” He questioned as he poured himself a cup of coffee.

Tate rolled one of his model cars across the table to you and you turned it around and rolled it back.

“I thought I might check out a book shop we passed yesterday. What does a normal Monday look like for you?”

“I’ve got work,” Mitch explained before gesturing to Darla. “She’s got her committees.”

“Committees?”

“I’m on the board of the Philadelphia Museum of Art,” Darla offered. “And the Daughters of the American Revolution.”

“Don’t forget the Trocadero,” Mitch supplied, pressing a kiss to Darla’s cheek, before he circled back around to the table. “She’s very connected to the art scene here in the city. If you have any interest in the arts, I’m sure she can find you a job or an internship.”

“I don’t know what I want to do,” You admitted, playing with the end of your braid as you stared down at the glass of juice in front of you. “I never thought I’d get out of Johnstown.”

“Hopefully you can figure that out,” Darla said as she handed you your cup of coffee. “I didn’t know what I wanted to do,” She told you, “But I found a passion for art in high school.”

“Does it pay well?”

“Oh,” Darla exchanged a look with Mitch. “Technically I’m a volunteer.”

“Ah.” You frowned. Given the house you were eating breakfast in and what Mitch had said last night — Darla had been born with a silver spoon in her mouth. “As nice as that sounds, I really need something somewhat lucrative.”

Mitch day down beside Tate, across from you, “You’ve got plenty of time to figure out what you want to be. Don’t grow up too fast.”

You smiled a little, “I’ll try not to.” You drummed your fingers against the side of your mug, “What do you do again, Mitch?”

“I’m a real estate broker.”

Your brows furrowed together, “I have no idea what that is.”

“I work for a real estate agency as a manager.” Mitch clarified, sipping at his coffee. “If you wanted to work in real estate, I could get you an internship.”

“I don’t know if I could sell houses,” You made a face. “I’m just going to focus on high school right now. Work on getting a scholarship.”

Tate rolled his car across the table again, “Do you like my car?”

You picked the car up and examined it, “I do. It’s very cool.” You rolled it back to him, glancing at Mitch. “I’m pretty self-sufficient. I'm sure I’ll figure out what my life’s calling is.”

“Philadelphia has so much going on. It’s very up-and-coming in areas.” Darla told you. “You could make a whole life for yourself here in the city.”

“Maybe.” You took a sip of coffee then. Now that you were free — there was a whole world of possibilities. You didn’t have to stay in Pennsylvania for the rest of your life.

You could go anywhere, be anything, make a name for yourself.

Mitch and his little family were great, but you didn’t feel any attachment to them. You didn’t feel any attachment to much of anything, frankly. Maybe you were broken. Maybe you’d been through so much shit with your mother, that you’d just shut down emotionally.

You knew what love was; you even knew what home and family was supposed to feel like, but you weren’t sure you had it in you to feel those things. It was like falling asleep on your hand — you could feel touch, but it didn’t feel real.

Maybe that’s what your mother felt. Maybe Rebecca was the way she was because there was a big black hole where her heart was supposed to be.

But you weren’t going to let yourself become her. Maybe one day you could feel something.

Wouldn’t that be something?

#javier pena x reader #pedro pascal x reader

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thiswasinevitableid · 5 years ago

Note

I have a suggestion for the Meet Ugly Prompts! Can you do 36, Sternclay, NSFW? Thanks so much! :)

Here you go!

36. it’s mid-apocalypse and you break into my secret shelter and I swear I’ll kill you if you don’t give me three damn good reasons why I shouldn’t

Barclay is running out of daylight. It was worth it, he found two flocks of survivors, waited with them until Ned was able to get the car down and pick them up (the Lincoln is remarkably immune to hoards of undead/possessed humans). They’d told him there was another group further East, that they’d passed them the evening before and tried to link up for greater safety. So Barclay took his chances, just like everyone does these days, and gone to find them.

He’s found them; eight people, all prone on the ground, all with white ooze seeping from their mouths and the wounds on their bodies. Too late. He’s almost immune to being too late. Almost.

It’s not worth trying to dispatch all of them, he’ll lose what time he has left to find shelter if he does. He turns into the woods, trying to remember if he can make it to the cave up the rock-face or if he’ll be spending the night on the move.

His Sylph sense of smells picks up something human and he pauses, tilts his head and listens for footsteps. What he gets is the crunch of leaf litter behind him, from the clearing where he found the newly minted undead.

Maybe the person nearby has shelter. Maybe they’re vulnerable and need help.

Cautiously, he takes off his bracelet, and the scent becomes much stronger. He follows it, finds its source at a log. Kneeling down, he feels along the ground and finds metal beneath a full foot of dirt and leaves.

The sun goes down, and he shoves the log, sliding the hidden door open enough to drop down into the darkness and slide the door shut over him. A human couldn't manage the weight, but a Bigfoot certainly can.

Once in the holding room, he keeps the bracelet off long enough to spot a door to his right. He turns human, considers his options, and then politely knocks on the solid metal. No answer, but not moaning voices either.

He could probably manage the night in this holding area. But just to be safe…

He pulls out one of the last things they got from Heathcliffe prior to blowing the gate closed (for now. He hopes) to at least foil part of Reconciliation’s plan. A universal lock pick. Holding it against the metal, gears whir and tumblers fall until the door swings open. He steps through into a well lit bunker and is immediately greeted by the barrel of a handgun.

“Shut the door.”

Barclay shuts the door, keeps his hands up in surrender.

“Give me three good reasons why I shouldn’t shoot you.” The man, tall and lean and clearly comfortable with the weapon in his hand stares him down with steel in his blue eyes.

“I, uh, I’m on a rescue team, see?” He indicates the torn red patch on his jacket, the one volunteer rescuers got when this all went down.

“How do I know you didn’t steal that from someone who was?”

“Why the fuck would I do that?”

“I’ve run across no fewer than three groups of people claiming to be ‘helpers’ or to offer shelter who then, on all three occasions, tried to kill and eat me.”

“What the fuck, there’s still plenty of food places?”

A huff, “you seem genuinely indignant, so fine; one reason. You need two more.”

“I, I honestly didn’t know if anyone was down here, I just came down because it got dark. There was a party I, uh,” he swallows, ashamed, “I didn’t get to in time. They’re infected now and I didn’t want to get bit.”

“Shit, they’re close and you opened the main door?”

“And closed it!” Barclay says hurriedly, “but if they or anything else does get in, I swear I’ll help you. And I’m damn good in a fight.”

“One reason left.”

“I, I, uh, I’m a good cook?”

“How does that help us in this situation?”

“You still gotta eat, right?”

His walky talky crackles with Mama’s voice, “Barclay, you somewhere safe? Over.”

He doesn’t move.

“Bud, if you’re in trouble gimme your best guess at coordinates and I’ll come. Over.”

“Reason number four: if you kill me, you’ll be dealing with her, and I cannot stress how terrifying she is when someone she loves is hurt.”

The man hesitates, then lowers the gun, nodding. Barclay picks up the walky-talky.

“Found a bunker, staying the night, over and out.”

“Come on, then.” The man waves for Barclay to follow him into the main room, “but if you try anything, know I’m not a man of empty threats.”

“Clearly.” Barclay mutters, taking in the bunker; it’s well supplied, like a miniature house, and if one did not know what was going on outside, it would seem cozy. No longer with terror tunnel vision, he gets a better look at his reluctant host. Short, black hair that’s been combed back, sharp cheekbones and a clean-shaven, handsome face. He’s almost Barclay’s height, which is novel.

“So, uh, how’d you get such a sweet hiding spot?”

“I am, or was, an FBI agent. I knew where many of the apocalypse fallout shelters were, and was lucky enough to be near one when this all started. I was en route to a town called Kepler.”

“No shit.” Barclay sits down at the tiny kitchen table, “that’s where I’m from. Where we’ve been running the rescue missions out of.”

“I’ll admit I’m not up on how things are going outside. I lost contact with my superiors three days into the epidemic. They were my last tie to what was happening. As I said, the last times I went out to search for others, to try and help if I could, other people posed an issue.” He sighs, sits down across from Barclay, “I guess it’s nice knowing I rid the coming world of three groups of people who would eat others for fun.”

The implications of that statement take a moment to sink in and Barclay is torn between feeling sorry for how frightened the man must have been and understanding just how close he was to dying a few minutes ago.

“I’m sorry you’ve had such shit luck. Maybe the nice digs balance it out?”

A polite laugh, “they do. I was worried at first about getting lonely, but that’s not all that different from how my work life used to be. Most people don’t want to pal around with a man in black on a mission.”

“That does explain the suit.” Barclay points to the slacks and dress shirt the man is wearing and the jacket hung over a nearby chair.

The man blushes, “I, uh, I’ve only had my work clothes, most of which were suits. Plus, they make me feel a bit more like...well, like myself I guess. That’s always been my fear of apocalyptic scenarios; that’d I’d stop being me and become some faceless creature bent on survival.”

Barclay shudders, “yeah, I get that.”

A hand extends, blue eyes taking on a bit of warmth, “I’m Joseph. Joseph Stern.”

“Barclay.” Barclay shakes his hand, noting the way Joseph inhales sharply at the touch.

“Are you hungry? The food in here is about what you’d expect, but it’s still food.”

“Here, lemme see what I can do.”

Joseph shows him the shelves of canned food, instant ramen, and MREs, and Barclay sets to work in the weird little kitchen. The bunker must have a generator running of some non-electrical source of power, because he’s able to get a hotplate working. Cooking soothes him, a familiar rhythm in an alien space. Joseph sits nearby, sometimes talking with him and sometimes inventorying his supplies. It’s been awhile since he spoke this easily with someone; he loves his friends, but they can talk over him very easily.

When he presents the two bowls, Joseph’s face lights up.

“This, this looks amazing! How did you do this from all that? Wait, is that Spam?”

“Yep.” Barclay twirls some ramen on his fork, “adds a hell of a lot of salt and it’s actually pretty nice deep fried.”

Joseph takes a bite and moans, “lord, I’ve missed food. Er” he clears his throat, “that came out wrong.”

“Bit of a foodie are we?” Barclay teases, bumping Joseph’s shin with his toe.

“Yes, actually. I traveled a lot for work, and food is a great way to get to know a place. Plus, people always talk easier in restaurants, so it’s an excellent way to do recon.”

“What’s your favorite thing you’ve ever eaten?”

“Hmmmmmm. Is it tacky to say foie gras fries I had once?”

“No and holy shit that sounds good.”

“Oh, it was. I do love a good fried rice though; like, the kind you get from some hole in the wall place that just sells every kind of Asian cuisine mushed together.”

“Mmm, I haven’t made fried rice in awhile. Maybe I should do that when I get back.”

“Oh, right. How far is-”

The walky talky squeaks and Barclay grabs it in a flash.

“Mama, that you? Over.”

“Yep, it’s me. Indrid got a word to Aubrey through the ol’ third eye and says to stay indoors all through tomorrow and into the next day. Gonna rain buckets, make the roads rough for anyone who’s human but not that dangerous for an oozer. You feel me? Over.”

“Copy that. I’ll stay put here. Over.”

“We’ll let you know when it’s clear. Over and out.”

“Looks like I’m staying here a little longer.”

“That’s absolutely fine. Did she say third eye?”

“Uh, hey, you wanna grab dessert? I saw some Twinkies on those shelves and haven’t had them in ages.”

Joseph raises his eyebrow in a way that indicates he knows exactly what Barclay is doing, but follows him all the same. They spend the evening eating baked goods of dubious quality and talking on the couch. At some point Barclay adjusts, bumping against Joseph, but rather than pull away the agent just lays his legs across his lap. When the time comes to sleep, Joseph shows him to a bedroom behind yet another heavily fortified door.

“This is kinda…”

‘Grim? I agree.” They stand between the two small beds in the grey room, the lamp buzzing above them. Joseph’s is on the right, somehow more tidily made than the one that hasn’t been touched.

“We could, um, push them together. If that’s something you’re comfortable with. Might feel less like a prison and be warmer too.”

“Works for me.” Barclay pushes his bed away from the wall. Were it safe to do so, he’d show off, by lifting it over his head. He bets Joseph would like that.

Barclay waits until Joseph is changing into pajamas to strip down to his boxers and slide under the covers, not wanting to presume his comfort with Barclay’s mostly naked body. Judging by the appreciative look he gets when Joseph lifts the covers and stares, he didn’t need to be so concerned.

“Y’know, you can just ask for a hug.” He chuckles when he notices Joseph hesitantly inching closer.

“I didn’t want to make you uncomfortableAH.” He laughs as Barclay pulls him into a hug, smoothing his hands along his soft pajamas.

“Ohhhh” the sigh is soft, chaste, but still dripping with want, “this feels nice.” His fingers trail up and down Barclay’s chest.

“Mmm, but we both gotta rest up. Been a long day. Get some sleep, agent.”

Ever since the Reconciliation-generated illness broke the perimeter, the other Lodge residents have had trouble sleeping. Barclay’s gotten into the habit of kissing their foreheads; for his kind on Sylvain, it was always a gesture of protection. So when he kisses the top of Joseph’s head, it’s purely out of habit.

Joseph just sighs again and murmurs, “goodnight, Barclay.”

-------------------------------------------------

He wakes up before Joseph, gives him a much more deliberate kiss on the cheek and heads out into the main bunker. Makes coffee and a simple breakfast, revels in the delight on Joseph’s face when he walks out and sees the meal waiting for him.

They play cards after breakfast, Joseph better at BlackJack and Barclay better at poker. Try their hands at a chess match, though Barclay is rusty (but more than happy to let a handsome guy show off for him). Joseph digs out what books are available, so they can read now and then. But mostly, they just talk. Joseph talks about his work, about his interest in the paranormal. Barclay talks about the Lodge, his friends, offers a carefully edited series of stories from his traveling days.

They’re laid out on the couch, Barclay functionally spooning the smaller man as they read. He doesn’t notice he’s running his hand up and down his side until Joseph moans.

“Will, um, will you keep doing that? I, it’s been awhile since I’ve been touched like that. But, um, more to the point, I like it when you touch me. So, please?”

“Course.” Barclay grins, sets his book down so he can loop his other arm under Joseph’s head. He slows his strokes, takes time to savor the muscle he feels under the dress shirt. Even in his human form, he can smell that the agent is aroused. Then again, the fact he’s twitching his hips is kind of a give away.

Barclay rumbles out a laugh, leans forward and nuzzles the back of his neck, kissing it when Joseph gasps.

“Barclay, will you--that is, I want, unnnnfhcuck” He moans when Barclay gently nips the base of his neck, trailing little lovebites all over his throat.

“What is it babe? What do you want?” Barclay bites his ear just as he’s trying to answer, causing another whimper in place of a reply.

“Oh fuck you.” Joseph snickers, turning his head to kiss him, the awkward angle doing nothing to dampen the hunger in it.

“Can if you want to.”

“Good lord yes” Both Joseph’s hands find his arm, clinging to him as he wiggles his ass backwards to grind against him. Barclay’s cock eagerly responds, and Joseph groans, excited, “oh yes I like that very much.”

“Not sure you’re ready for that yet, babe. Much as I like the idea of cumming in you until you’re fucking dripping, rather be on the safe side and use a condom the first time I fuck you into the ground.”

“Figures that’s one of the things I haven’t found in this place.” Joseph grumbles as Barclay unbuttons his slacks.

“Think I got something you’ll like just as well.”

“Okay, oh, ohOkay.” Joseph tips inelegantly backwards as Barclay yanks off his pants and underwear. Barclay growls, hooks his legs over his shoulders and dives forward.

“FUCK” Joseph grips his head, pulling him closer as he laps at him, “ohlord, oh thank you, fuck.”

Barclay growls, does it again when the noise makes the agent tense and moan. Chuckles with each new sound of pleasure, drinking them in as he relishes Joseph filling his senses.

“Fuck, shit, Barclay you’re going positively wild and I love itGAHhhnnnyes.” Slick coats Barclay’s bear as he drags his face up so he can suck Joseph’s dick. God almighty does he want to be inside him, want to make him scream as he fucks him open in both forms, want to watch his body bounce and strain to take his Sylph form while those blue eyes go teary with pleasure.

He cups Joseph’s ass with both hands, pressing him as hard against him as he can manage, his focus stripped down to doing whatever it takes to make him cum.

“Fuck, fuck, Barclay, ohlordohfuckme, like that, please just like that.” His ass tenses under his hands and Barclay flicks his tongue out one last time as he cums, panting and still pleading for more.

Taking care not to actually hurt him, Barclay hauls Joseph so he’s laying on the couch before pouncing on him, kissing him until he’s gasping, growling and rumbling praise as Joseph manages to get his jeans open.

“That’s it babe, jack me off, lemme cum all over you, oh fucking-A that’s good.”

Joseph moans a little at the compliment, then smirks, “you have a thing for marking me, big guy?”

“Fuck yeah I do.” Barclay sinks his teeth into his shoulder, nearly howls when that makes Joseph speed up.

The agent swiftly undoes the buttons on his dress shirt, running his hands across his chest as he grins teasingly up at Barclay, “you want to cum on this, want me to let you make a mess of me?”

“Uhhuh, fuck, Joseph, you’re all mine babe, all mine.” He drops down to kiss him, pumping his hips so his cock fuck’s Joseph’s fist over and over again. He’s growling uncontrollably, kisses turning messy feral as he licks and nips at the human’s lips and neck.

When he cums he buries the sound against Joseph’s throat, praying he can’t notice how non-human it is. Glancing down gives him a perfect look at the last of his cum dripping onto the agent’s stomach, and he whines, low and animal, with affectionate want.

“That, that was, ha” Joseph kisses his cheek, “good lord I can’t remember the last time a hook up felt that good.”

“Glad you liked it.” Barclay smiles at him, kisses his nose.

“I did. I like you too, Barclay. So much.”

The come down on the couch together, cuddled up and trading innocent kisses between whispers of affection.

As they’re cleaning up, Barclay picks up the walky-talky, intending to call Mama for an update, “y’know, I meant to ask last night; what were you going to Kepler for?”

“My work with the UP. I was investigating a string of disappearances tied to Bigfoot.”

Barclay drops the device.

“I know, it sounds silly in the face of what happened next.”

“Uh huh, right, I mean, it’s good to have a goal-”

“Barclay, this is Mama, we got the all clear to pick you up. Over.”

Joseph looks at the radio, visibly sad but clearly resolve to the fact Barclay will leave him.

He could do just that. Leave him here to keep fending for himself. Pretend this never happened. Pretend he doesn’t matter.

Keeping an eye on Joseph, he gives Mama the nearest spot on the road to pick him up.

“And, uh, Mama? Tell Ned he’ll be picking up two people. I found someone I can’t bear to leave behind. Over.” He holds out his hand. Joseph looks at it, then around the room, then at his face.

Then he smiles, and takes his hand.

Barclay knows they’ll be explaining to do down the road. Bu right now, that doesn’t scare him. Right now, Joseph’s hand is in his, and that’s all that matters.

#meet ugly #Sternclay #agent stern/barclay #prompt fills

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surveys-at-your-service · 4 years ago

Text

Survey #324

“i'll sharpen my knife upon the stone made from the ruin of a dead god's throne / listen to these words as my seeds are sown: it's time to amputate the infected zone”

What is the last game you played on your phone? Pokemon GO. Do you give people personalized ringtones? No. Does your phone screen have any cracks? No. What makeup products are you wearing, if any? None. How would you describe your skin tone? Very pale. Do you have your full birth name on Facebook? Yes. What is your least favorite fruit? Probably cherries. How often do you walk around barefoot? Whenever I'm in my house or another person's who prefers shoes off inside. Would you need to sleep with someone before considering marrying them? Nah. Do you think people look up to you? No. How often do you have trouble sleeping at night? Every night. Do you ever rehearse conversations before you have them? YEP. In my head, at least. Can you name five current world leaders? No, haha... When taking a cab, do you talk to the driver? Cabs aren't really a thing here. I've never been in one. Do you always read the book before you see a movie based on a book? No. What is your favorite urban legend? The Jersey Devil. Mothman is dope and super creepy, too. I love cryptids, period. Are you an elitist (even a little bit) when it comes to anything? What? No, because I hate people like that so much. What type of fabric is most comfortable for clothing? I dunno, I don't pay attention to this. If you wear one – bras with or without a wire? With, so long as they're not poking out and stabbing you... If you wear one – are you able to find cute bras in your size? Definitely not. What length do you like your shorts to be? You'd have to pay me some big bucks to see me in shorts, period. Have you ever cut off jeans or other pants and made them into shorts? No. Have you cut the sleeves out of T-shirts to make tank tops? I don't think so, no. What was the last disappointing movie you saw? *shrug* What was the last disappointing book you read? Even bigger *shrug*. Do you ever watch compilation videos? Of what? Rarely, but if I do, they're generally old Vines and stuff. What was the last thing you rolled your eyes about? Probably something stupid on Facebook. Do you like Hellboy? If so, do you prefer the old movies or the new one? I have no thoughts on this. Favorite Disney character who isn’t royalty? Dory! Do you have a lot of people whom you don’t talk to all the time or see all the time, but still consider to be your friends? Yeah, like friends from high school and online childhood ones. Do you typically do your make up the same each time? Or do you like to change it up often? It's just about always the same. Do you enjoy making surveys as well as taking them or do you just prefer to copy, paste, fill out, post? The latter. I don't make surveys. Have you got a significant other? How are things between the two of you? If not, what was your most meaningful/long term relationship and how did that come to an end? I don't. My longest and deepest relationship was with Jason, and he ended it when my depression became too much for him to handle. Have you spent much time in a vehicle lately? What for and where have you gone most this past month? No. I've barely left the house lately for obvious reasons. Has it rained yet this year where you live? How about hailed? It's been raining like crazy lately. A few mornings ago, it also hailed very heavily for a few minutes. What is your favorite thing about Mac computers? I like the sleek, clean look of them. What is your favorite thing about PCs? They have more power for playing games. What are some errands you need to run soon? None. Well, we have a Wal-Mart order to pick up I think tomorrow, and I'll probably ride with Mom. What color was your high school graduation gown? Red. It was between that and navy, and I was really hoping for the latter, but it lost the vote. The red was so obnoxious. How many graduation gowns have you worn? One. Are your parents’ dreams for your life different than your own? I don't think they have their own specific "dreams" for my life. They both want me to create my own future that makes me happy. Have your dreams for your life changed? Definitely, over all the years. Would you ever want to learn sign language? Not especially, but it'd be cool I suppose. What’s the last thing you had for dinner? Chicken tenders, I think? Or was that the night before? Have you ever performed a solo dance in front of a crowd? No, but I almost did. At my old dance studio, the high school seniors had the option to a solo, and I was working on one to "Coma White" by Marilyn Manson, because it was and still is a song I really feel in regards to my mental health and many medications I "have" to be on. I was doing fine, but I stopped when I realized I just really was too nervous as a dance competition approached. Have you ever sung a solo? No. What was the last job you had? Deli worker. For two hours. What was your first job? Sales associate at GameStop. Who was/were your favorite coworker(s)? I never really had one. At what age did you start experiencing sexual attraction, if any? I don't know. Probably my freshman year of high school is when my levels of attraction to people reached a sexual and not just romantic level. Have you ever split open a rock with a hammer, to see a geode inside? UGH no, but I so wanna find one of those one day. What states have you lived in? Only North Carolina. S.O.S., get me outta here. What is your favorite thing about the month in which it is now? You start to see some flowers blooming. Who were your best friends in high school? I had a decent group of close friends, but I was closest to Hannia. I wish I still had contact with her. ^Are they still your best friends now? No. She deleted me off Facebook at some point. Do you live near the mountains? No; they're on the western end of the state, and I live on the opposite side. Do you live near a beach? It's about two hours away. What is your favorite beach that you’ve been to? I don't have a fave. Do you collect seashells? Nah, but I like picking them up and looking at them. My sisters and I used to collect them, though. We have a plastic container of them somewhere. If you were to start a new collection, what would it be? I desperately want a cornucopia of Markiplier merch, sobs. Is there a certain place or store you especially hate going to? I don't like going to most stores, really. I'm an online shopper. When was the last time you made plans with someone? October of last year. How long do leftovers usually sit in your fridge? Depends on the food. They tend to stay in there a bit too long, though. What is something you do for other people that shows you care for them? Offer to listen to them and always be a source of support and love. What was the last animal/pet that you met? Kinda recently, someone in our neighborhood was walking their German shepherd, and Mom chatted with the lady for a bit while I listened. Is there anyone in your life with whom your opinion changes on frequently? No. Have you ever kept a journal? Do you currently keep one? Yes, on-and-off during multiple periods of my life. These surveys are like my journals now. Is there a certain song or band who remind you of specific people? Yep. Motionless In White and Black Veil Brides, Jason. Pink Floyd and Evanescence, Sara. Metallica, Mom. Van Halen, Dad. Etc., etc. How often do you style your hair differently from how you normally style it? Never. Have you ever found out that you have been sleep walking? No, I never have. What’s the last thing you promised yourself? I don't know about promised. I take those so seriously, even to myself, that I hesitate to make them. Have you ever tried making something from one of those short cooking videos? How did it turn out? No, but my friend once tried making that "muffin in a cup" thing and it was absolutely horrid. Very eggy. When was the last time you had to wait in line for longer than a few minutes? Good question. Going into places is so rare nowadays, so it's hard to encounter this issue. Well wait, maybe at a fast food place? Idr. Have you ever written a review for a product you bought online? No, but I should do that once I actually use my own money to buy from small businesses in particular... if I had something good to say, anyway. I'd feel bad trash-talking a product. Do you ever interact with any brands/companies online? No. Is there anything you seem especially sensitive to, such as sounds, smells, etc? Smells, yes. What was the last thing you had the urge to do? Read, even though I didn't do it. .-. Is there anyone you feel that takes you for granted? No. Do you ever read the comments on social media posts? Sometimes, particularly if I have strong feelings about something. What was the last “good” thing to happen to you? My PHP therapist felt confident enough in my progress to step me down to three sessions a week versus every weekday. Last awkward situation you were in? Thankfully it was a one-on-one session, but the same aforementioned therapist was asking me questions that really stumped me, so I kept going very quiet as I thought and felt awkward and dumb. He's brilliant at his job. Think of the last time you were sick – what were you sick with? I think the last issue I had that qualifies as "sick" was a double ear infection from Hell itself. That was like two years ago. How do you think your life would change without social media? I'd be incredibly bored, but I, among I think most others, would be more positive and have a more realistic outlook on life. Social media highlights the best times in our life, and I do feel that that has had a negative effect on pretty much everyone. I don't at all believe social media is bad in essence, though. It's a wonderful way to stay connected. What was the last thing you wanted to buy, but couldn’t afford? I can't afford a new terrarium for Venus for probably a while, being without a job and all... How do you get your news? Facebook, haha. How often do you drive? Never, right now. My permit is long expired, and my vision isn't up to par to renew it. If you had to go (back) to school and completely change your career path, what would you choose to study/pursue? I guess biology? Are there any TV shows you constantly quote or know almost every line to? No. What do you think about lizards? I adore lizards; they're all so cute, big or small, and truly little dinosaurs. They're beautiful and so vast in appearances and behavior. Is there anything that people assume about you that isn’t true, and that you find very irritating? Not that I find irritating, no. How would you rate your “detective” skills? Uh, what am I "detecting?" I'm pretty good at digging online if I'm really hunting something down, I guess. Have you ever done consumer testing (testing products before they come out on the market)? If not, would you ever want to? No; I wouldn't be opposed, depending on the product. Have you ever received anesthesia or morphine? Both. The one time (I'm aware of) where I had morphine oddly enough did jack-all, though. If you had to choose which video game to be in, which would it be? Hmmm. Maybe like, Shadow of the Colossus, living in the beautiful garden on the top of the shrine? With the deer, the birds, fruit, just its general beauty... That would be awesome, especially with one other person, especially an s/o. Just the two of us in a gorgeous land. Between the two, would you rather live in a place where it’s only night or where it’s only day? Only day, I suppose. Vitamin D is very important, for one thing, and it always being dark would definitely affect my depression. And what about the flowers blooming and being able to take pictures? :( Sleep would still be possible by just closing your shades and stuff. Is there anyone that makes your skin crawl? Maggots, bot flies, parasites, patterns of small holes, etc. Do you like it when people are affectionate with you? Yes. If we're at least friends, anyway. I'm a very affectionate person. Have the past few days been bad, good, or neutral? They've been pretty all right. If you had to be an actor/actress in a movie, what genre of the movie would you be best at? Probably as an insane villain in a superhero movie or something. Are people more likely to tell you to tone it down or to speak up? Speak up. I'm a mumbler. I can be too loud sometimes too, though, particularly when I'm excited. What’s the last thing that you procrastinated? Now. Emerson's birthday was last month and I still haven't touched her pictures... Out of fire, earth, water, wind, light, and dark, which element appeals the most to you? Dark. What’s your favorite color on a vehicle? Burnt orange, pink. The last pain that you experienced, was it physical or emotional? Physical. What was one of your favorite songs as kid? I liked lots of pop songs. When’s the last time you tried to get revenge, if ever? Never. It's not something I chase after. Do you like Taylor Swift? No. What’s your favorite Disney Channel movie? The Haunted Mansion, I think. That's a Disney movie, isn't it? If you met your favorite celebrity, would you be calm or star struck? I'd be a deer in headlights, stuttering and stammering over ways to thank him and crying like a bitch. I'd be super embarrassed, but I absolutely hope I get to meet him one day. Do you ever have to do yard work? No. Is your school close to your house? I'm no longer in school. Do you have any live versions of songs in your music software? Yes. Did/do you listen to Britney Spears songs? Yeah, I like her. What shorthand do you use the most? Probably "lmao." What album is the current song you’re listening to off of? METAWAR. In your opinion, what song is the most overplayed right now? I wouldn't know; I don't listen to the radio. Are you in a band? No. When I started high school though, I wished I could be a guitarist in one. That's one reason I started taking lessons, haha. Does your favorite band have a male or female lead singer? Male. Have you ever been to a Broadway show? No. Do you prefer group or individual work? Individual, by a long shot. I work much better alone. Could you ever complete a 500-piece puzzle? I think I have before. I used to love puzzles. When was the last time you rode in a limo? Damn son, never; what could possibly give you the idea I could afford to ever do THAT????? Do you take naps daily? Almost every day, yes. Do you still make Christmas lists? Yeah, because I'm asked to. Do you watch the show Dexter? Never seen it, no. Are you currently using a blanket? Yes. My feet are cold. How long is the song you’re listening to? 4:06. Is your mom or dad the older parent? Mom, but only by a year. Did you ever listen to Avril Lavigne when you were younger? Who didn't? I still listen to a couple songs. When was the last time you changed a light bulb? Not all that long ago when Venus' lamp bulb died. How often do you clean your car out? I don't have my own car. Did you ever buy NOW ("Now That’s What I Call Music") CDs? My older sister did, yes. What color (mainly) is your computer? It's black. What is in the back seat of your car right now? In Mom's car, idk. But there's usually some stuff back there. What is your favorite episode of F.R.I.E.N.D.S.? Never watched it. Last person’s house you were in? Besides my own, my older sister's. Who is the last person you sent a message to on Facebook? My friend Chelsea. We were catching up. Were you an honor roll student in school? Yes. Do you have a tan? HA. Are you someone’s best friend? Yes. <3 What do you think of when you think of Australia? Huntsmen spiders. *shudders* Favorite gemstone? Of the basic ones, rubies. If we're talking of all of them, even the obscure, then dragon's breath opal. I'd LOVE to have a ring of one of those. Do you go in at a fast food place or just hit the drive thru? Almost always the drive-thru. What color is your mom’s hair? It's all gray now. Does your first memory involve your dad? No. Biggest annoyance in your life right this minute? My social anxiety. Do you like watching a bonfire? Yeah. Fire is mesmerizing. Do you ever get flu shots? No, but I really should. Once the Covid vaccine is accessible to all though, I'm getting it for the protection of my immunocompromised mother.

#survey #surveys #questions #lyrics: ''affluenza'' by 3teeth

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folkloreguk · 6 years ago

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Strip Uno (optional bias smut)

A/N: It’s been 84 years since I last posted...thank you to the sweet messages I’ve been getting, you guys motivate me so much! I hope you like this one! (fyi: It’s another friends to lovers scenario, idk why I keep writing those lol)

Pairing: reader x optional bias (male)

“I'd appreciate if the house was still standing when we get back home, okay honey?” your mom said, closing the car trunk.

“Mom! H/N's coming over and we're gonna watch some movies or whatever we feel like, no big deal,” you replied, rolling your eyes. “I'm not nine years old, I can take care of myself.”

“I know that,” your mom said with a smile, getting into the seat next to your dad. “Have fun, I love you.”

“Love you too,” you replied. She shut the door and they drove off. The second they had left the driveway, you fished for your phone in your pocket. Eagerly, you texted your best friend.

Come over later

My parents aren't home

we can build a blanket fort

or mess up the kitchen

Make pancakes??

As always, it only took him a few minutes to reply.

first of all I'm never cooking pancakes with you again

I'll be over in a bit

You grinned at his message, getting excited. Even though you saw him almost every single day, there was no better feeling than knowing you were going to have so much fun with him. Like you always did. And since you both became grown ups, you had started to notice your slight attraction towards him. It wasn't like you were in love with him. (That's what you told yourself, at least.) It was just that every time you two spent time together, you noticed it more and more. It was mostly harmless flirting, but it was most certainly mutual. Which only kept you from holding back even more.

Half an hour later, your doorbell rang.

“Did you shrink overnight or did your sweater grow?” was the first thing he said after spotting you in the door frame. He was grinning cheekily and you rolled your eyes.

“It's called oversized and I bought it that way on purpose,” you explained. “I swear to god, you're so uncultured.”

He simply chuckled at your comment and started going off about some school project he was supposed to do. Apparently hanging out with you was more important to him. For a change, you headed into your living room instead of your room.

You had to admit, perhaps you had checked him out as he was walking in front of you. His hair was done nicely, but he was in a comfortable hoodie and his black sweatpants hung on his hips lowly. After he had approached the armrest of the sofa, he flung himself across it, landing in the soft pillows and giving you a playful glare.

“So blanket forts,” he began, “I've been told I'm great at building those.”

“Oh yeah? By whom exactly?” you asked, falling onto the sofa from the opposite side, so your head was next to his, but your legs pointed in different directions.

“My many ladies,” he claimed. You snorted at him.

“You mean your plushies that still sit on your bed?”

“Hey! Too far! You still have plushies too!” he instantly fought back.

“Okay, fair enough, I'm just kidding,” you laughed. “Let's do it then. Show off your skills to me.”

“First, we need every blanket we can get,” he ordered right away. When you looked at him, he was already up, collecting the pillows and blankets in your living room.

The next fifteen minutes you spent looking through drawers. You were surprised at just how many blankets you managed to gather.

“Are you finding any?” he shouted from the living room downstairs. Too busy to reply, you tried hard not to trip down the stairs.

“Does this seem like enough to you?” you questioned. In your arms you were balancing not only around six massive blankets, but also a game of UNO that you had randomly found. You realized you hadn't played it in way too long, and therefore taken it with you.

“Perfect,” he agreed, laughing at your clumsy walk.

Meanwhile, H/N had carried chairs and pillows and even your clothes airer into the room. He had already begun with the positioning, creating a loose concept of where the fort would soon be. When you dropped the blankets and the game, his expression changed.

“Full offence, but playing uno with two people sucks,” he stated. In response you gave him a look of disagreement. Then you decided you would have to convince him later. For now, there was another objective.

As you started the building, you realized a few things.

1. It is seemingly easier to build a stable fort as a grown up person

2. It is more difficult to build a big enough fort for two grown up people

3. It is just as much fun as it used to be

Twenty minutes, lots of laughter and even more concentration later, you were standing in what had to be the most extravagant blanket fort you had ever laid eyes on.

“This, if I may say so myself, is iconic,” he said, putting his arm around your shoulder like you had just completed building your own mansion. You could only agree.

Next, you spent around ten minutes trying to persuade him into a game of UNO. But to no success. Eventually, you ended up next to him in the fort. A bowl of popcorn sat in your lap and your favourite film was playing. To be fair, it had only come to this because he told you he would think about playing with you if you watched a movie first. And when he requested your favourite, you said yes without thinking.

“Stop crying, nothing bad is happening,” he laughed at you. A popcorn landed on you as he threw it. You picked it up and ate it, giving him a glare.

“I can't help it, this is the best scene,” you admitted through teary eyes. Right away, another popcorn flew your way. You were terribly tempted to get him back. For the sake of your fluffy carpet you changed your mind.

“That's so cute,” he said, staring at you while you were completely immersed in the scene. Still you caught yourself wanting to give him a smile, maybe say something flirty back. Instead, you grinned a little, but kept your eyes on the screen of your laptop.

After the movie was over, you brought the bowl and the laptop outside of the tent. Of course you returned with the UNO. It had gotten later at night, but you were determined as ever. Plus, it was Saturday. He was probably going to stay overnight anyway. Or at least that's what happened 9 out of 10 weekends.

“It's still a no from me,” he said the second you put down the game in front of him.

“Please!” you begged. “I haven't done this in so long, I wanna play it so bad!”

He sighed from where he was lying on the ground. One of his hands was supporting his head while the other was reaching for the box of the game. He was smiling brazenly now, and you wondered what was going through his mind.

“Okay, I'll play with you,” he said. You clapped in excitement, but he raised one finger. “If…we put a little twist to it.”

“Fine! What is it?” you asked, wanting to start playing as quickly as possible. He gave you another cheeky look, and you were slightly worried.

“We'll play strip uno,” he said. Like it was the most normal request in the world.

“What the hell are you talking about?” you replied, confused but not as surprised as you thought you would be.

“You know, like strip poker. We'll play and the loser takes off one article of clothing until-” he began.

“I know how strip poker works!” you interrupted him.

“Great? Why did you ask then?” he replied, fake innocence on his face. You let out air through your nose and shook your head. Your mind was spinning. Flirting between you two was one thing, this was a whole other. Then you thought. You wanted to play this game. Now. And you thought of all the times he had seen you in a bathing suit. This wasn’t so different, was it?

“On one condition,” you said.

“You're proposing a condition on my condition?” he asked jokingly.

“We'll stop at the underwear,” you told him.

“We'll see,” he replied, completely calm. Again, you shook your head. But his answer was good enough for you. You knew he was just fooling with you now.

So it be. As you played the first round, your heart was beating way too fast for you liking. He's just your best friend, dammit, calm down, you told yourself. It didn't work for a second.

On his part, he suddenly acted as if UNO had always been his favourite game. Even though he was the first one to lose.

“Next round!” he exclaimed, throwing his socks away. At some point his enthusiasm caught you and you had to admit, you were less nervous and felt like this was more fun with every card you laid down. And so it went, round after round.

You lost and took off your socks. He lost and took off his hoodie, under which he was wearing another shirt. You lost, and took off your pants. He lost and took off his pants. At least you were even for now.

“Final round!” you said. He was wearing his shirt and you had your sweater, that covered your bra underneath. This round was worse than the previous ones. You could feel a kind of tension in the air, there was less joking around and more stares into each others eyes. You weren't sure what was going to happen after the game was over, but you had a few ideas.

Maybe it was the idea of him possibly losing, but you suddenly used every spark of imagination on what his bare skin would look like. What it would feel like under your fingertips. No matter what would happen after the game, this thought would haunt you until you had found out what it would be like to touch him.

He only had three cards left, while you had six. But frankly, you didn't really care for winning any more. Not when he was there, right in front of you. So damn handsome and charming. When had you begun feeling this way towards him?

You barely noticed as he put down his last card.

“uno uno!” he cheered, giving you a daring look. You wanted nothing more than to simply bend over and kiss him. Instead, you did as the rules said and took off your sweater. The way he looked at you only made it worse. How he licked over his lip just for a moment and how his eyes travelled down your body just shortly, before locking them with your gaze.

“Again,” he commanded.

“It's over, my clothes are gone, I'm not taking off any more,” you reminded him of your rule.

“Come on! Let’s just play another round,” he insisted. You were sitting close to him, but not close enough to feel his body heat. When you looked at him you noticed his eyes on your lips. Then you realized he was still waiting for an answer.

“Whatever, let’s play again then. But I’m keeping my word. No more clothes are coming off,” you gave in, just because you had no idea what to do otherwise. You didn’t want to get away from him now, and what else could you have requested that would have involved being half-naked right next to him?

The last round you played in complete silence. It didn’t feel silent in your head though. Every smile he gave you, made you feel dizzy, like you were drunk. You kept catching him as he stared at you, waiting for you to put down a card. And for the record, you were in the process of losing and he knew.

Then he put his last card onto the pile.

“Uno uno! I won again!” he triumphed. You grinned at his excitement and opened your mouth to ask what to do next. But you noticed his gaze on you, like he was waiting for his order at McDonald’s. It was ridiculous, this boy never gave up. For a few seconds you returned his look. Then you decided to just chance it, and speak.

“What?” you finally asked. “If you want my bra off so bad, you’re gonna have to do it yourself, because I won’t.”

Just for a moment, he was taken aback. Slight confusion and reluctance played on his face. But you gave him a look that said more than a thousand words could have, and suddenly he bent forward and was kissing you.

It wasn’t a romantic, sweet kiss. It was hungry, like you had just found an oasis in a desert after a week of searching. It was like fire when his tongue touched yours for the first time. Your heart was drumming against your ribcage with so much eagerness, you thought it might break it.

At the same time his hands had moved to the back of your bra, fidgeting around for a while until it opened. Without really thinking, you pushed the cards aside and moved over to straddle his waist. His lips moved messily against yours while your fingers tangled in his hair. You couldn’t help but moan softly when his hands made contact with your boobs, his thumb circling around your nipples ever so slowly.

You felt like it was only fair to finally get rid of his shirt too, but when you reached for it, his hand closed around your wrist.

“I didn’t lose, remember?” he asked, clearly joking. He earned a playful hit for that comment. Then he swiftly pulled the fabric over his head. You barely had time to stare at how hot he looked before he kissed you again.

A strained sound left his throat when you ground your hips into his. It kind of sounded like he had just lost to you at Mario Kart (which he often did), just as little higher pitched. It might have been a weird comparison, but after all, he was your best childhood friend.

When you did it again, he moaned even louder, let his head hang back and closed his eyes tightly. Almost like he was trying to control himself, but seemed to be failing.

You took it as a perfect chance to bend forward and kiss his exposed neck. His skin under your lips felt just as you had imagined. Soft and smooth, letting your mouth follow every curve. At the same time you never stopped rolling your hips against his. Now that both of you were left in your underpants, the lack of clothing only turned you on even more.

As your crotch pressed against his already hard bulge, it made something twist the pit of your stomach. Something eager and impatient. Your breaths mixed up as you went from kissing to catching air. All those years of being friends you had never looked this closely into his eyes. They sparkled, even in the dim lighting inside the blanket fort.

“Have you ever thought about doing this before?” you suddenly asked. You didn’t know what had driven you, but you needed to know.

“Having sex?” he asked, followed by a restless sigh of when your hips moved against his.

“Having sex with me,” you said. “Be honest.”

“You want me to be honest?” he asked. He was quiet for a few times, his breathing just as uneven as yours. “I've lost count of how many times I've pictured this.”

Not sure what to say, you leaned forward and kissed him again. You shivered beneath his touch, when his hands wandered down your chest and to your waist, drawing small circles. His hold matched your movement when you rolled your hips over his. They followed the curve of your hips and to the small of your back.

Only when they softly touched the inside of your thighs, you realized you were holding your breath. A tense sigh left your lips when his hand slipped past your pants and between your folds. In no time he was curling his fingers against your sweet spot, seeing how you reacted to his touch. You said his name in a weak tone, your eyelids fluttering in pleasure.

“I like when you say my name like that” he stated, grinning cockily but his eyes looked as if he was in pure awe.

“Right...there,” you whimpered. He fastened his pace, rubbing small circles against your clit until you barely managed to keep your eyes open.

“I can’t wait any longer,” you spoke, softly tugging on the waistband of his boxers to let him know what you were referring to.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Never been more sure,” you replied, and whimpered right after, when he detached his hand from your aching center.

For a moment you sat next to him, so you could both shed off your underwear. When his eyes locked with yours, almost like he was luring you in, you climbed back into his lap.

Another time you gave him a questioning look, and he gave you a small nod. He hissed when you touched his member, pumping him a few times before aligning the tip with your entrance.

You both cursed in unison as you sank down on him, and just for a second you couldn’t help but laugh at each other. There was a moment when he twirled a strand of your hair between his fingers, and you almost failed to believe what was going on.

Then you slowly started to move, and you stopped thinking completely. He began rubbing your clit again, this time messier but it felt even better now. Somehow he seemed to know just how to touch you, even after this short amount of time.

Meaningless words and moans filled the air beneath the blankets. He had his eyes shut for a few seconds, and you examined his face as it twisted in pleasure and his mouth hung open just a little. His hair was disheveled now, and a small hickey adorned his neck. You blushed at the thought of someone other than you might seeing it.

You could tell he was getting closer, and so were you. Seeing as you both had been so worked up, you knew it wouldn’t take long.

“You feel so good,” you moaned, wrapping your arms around his neck. He only groaned in response, and you buried your head where his shoulder met his neck. Your breath fanned against his skin as you closed your eyes and concentrated on the feeling of his fingers on your clit and of him inside of you.

“I’m so close,” you spoke against his neck. “H/N, oh my god.”

“Me too,” he spoke. His voice was husky and the fingers of his hand was buried in your skin, pushing you against him and making you move faster. Just a few more seconds of his moans, and his fingers working their magic on you, and you saw stars in front of your eyelids.

His name fell from your lips like a mantra as you came. Your hand closed around his wrist, too sensitive to take any more. You forced yourself to keep moving steadily, wanting to see him reach his high too.

It didn’t take long. For a while his jaw clenched and he breathed quickly through his nose, then his lips parted and his fingers dug into your sides as his orgasm washed over him. Slowly you rolled your hips another few times before you halted completely and climbed off him.

For a couple seconds you blankly stared at each other. Then he started smiling like an idiot and fell backwards into the pillows, his arms flopping to his sides lifelessly. You thought of the only rational thing to do, and lay down with him, supporting yourself on your arm and facing him. The way his chest moved slowly as he breathed made you feel peaceful.

“Are we still just friends after this?” he suddenly asked. You thought for a while.

“I think we haven’t been just friends for a long time now,” you admitted. He chuckled in agreement.

“Good, because I want us to be more” he said. A warm happiness spread in your chest at his smile.

“I need to tell you something,” he suddenly said in a different tone. You were awaiting something sentimental, but surely not what he said next.

“The last time we played and you lost,” he started, “I didn’t say uno when I had only one card left. You wouldn’t have lost if you had noticed.”

The way he grinned at you made you want to slap and kiss him at the same time. But you only gave him a playfully warning glare.

“I’m hungry,” he said, quickly changing the topic before you could complain. “You wanna order pizza?”

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what-is-your-plan-today · 5 years ago

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Stark Spangled Banner Ch34: Paper

Warnings: Bad Language words. Smut (NSFW) NO UNDER 18s PLEASE!!!!

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist

August 2016

Following advice from Coulson, the group of Outlaws decided to lay low for a few months until interest died down, although Katie and Sam were pretty amused to find out that there had been protests across the US after they had been declared Enemies of the State, especially when someone (no names were mentioned, but Katie was laying odds on it being Murdock to help Clint and Scott’s very publicised hearings) had leaked to the press details of what had taken place in Siberia, and how they had been treated by the Government. To her further delight, Ross was facing a public enquiry as well with regards to their unlawful arrests.

All in all, that part of it had worked out pretty well. And whilst she knew he would get away with it, the thought of him being pissed off filled her with a very smug sense of satisfaction.

The place they were living was called the Isle of Lewis, approximately 12 miles away from Stornoway in the northern part of the inter-connected Islands in the Hebrides and the only connection to main land Scotland was either a 2 hour ferry or a flight, so with that respect it was absolutely perfect.

The first rule of going on the run? Don’t run.

At first they strayed into town for supply runs only and Katie was surprised just how well she adapted to living with two additional people. At first she had been worried, Steve and her having had their own space for such a long time. Even in the tower and compound their living quarters had been fairly big and they could hide away from everyone if they wanted to. But in their safe house they didn’t have that luxury. Never the less it was big enough so that they could all have their own rooms. There was one bathroom upstairs and a smaller cloakroom downstairs, and so far there had been no squabbles about who used it when.

Their large sitting area had been kitted out with a state of the art entertainment system, they had a decent sized farmhouse style Kitchen-Diner, and a smaller sitting room off the back of the kitchen with a smaller TV, a 2 seat couch and a piano much to Katie’s delight. Practical things like bills etc were coming out of an account belonging to Mr and Mrs O’Rourke, one of Katie and Steve’s covers- the name being Steve’s Mother’s maiden name. Coulson had advised them it was the least suspicious thing to do and would attract less attention than trying to pay cash at a bank. They’d also acquired a ten year old free-lander, bought for cash of course, and it was subtle enough to blend in as a lot of the locals seemed to drive them too.

Unlike Steve.

The morning of their first wedding anniversary, Katie woke alone, her husband was no-where to be found. After laying, looking at his empty side of the bed for a moment she blinked back tears of frustration and headed for a before she wandered downstairs into the kitchen to be greeted by Sam and Wanda both sat at the table.

"Steve gone for a run?" she asked, after greeting them both good morning.

"Yeah, I offered to go but he wanted to go on his own," Sam said, shrugging “Didn’t want to keep pace."

Katie poured herself a coffee and sat down, taking a deep breath. “Is everything ok?” Wanda asked, looking at Katie “You’ve both been a little tetchy recently. Granted you haven’t been as bad as him, but...” “Yeah, you guys not err…getting enough?” Sam quipped, earning himself a slap round the back of the head from Wanda, the younger woman giving him a glare.

“Fuck off Wilson.” Katie rolled her eyes.

“I’m just saying…”

“Well don’t” she sighed, taking a sip of her coffee then swiping a piece of toast off his plate.

“Look, we know it’s your anniversary today.” Wanda looked at her. “You got anything planned?” “Not really possible.” Katie shrugged “Thought I might try and convince him to take a walk later, just the two of us but…”

“Well,” Sam said, looking at Wanda then over to Katie, “we thought we might head into town for the evening, hit a few bars. Give you two a bit of space.” Wanda nodded, eagerly. “You have to do something, even if it’s just cooking a meal and having a bit of you time.” Katie pondered this for a moment and found herself smiling “Actually, that’s not a bad idea. I can go to the store later.” her spirits raised a a little as she started planning a menu out in her head.

She was cut off when the security system clicked and Steve walked through the door of the kitchen that led to the grounds, the door shutting behind him, the keypad beeping as he typed in the code to lock everything down.

“Hey.” she looked up at him. His face was tired but nevertheless he smiled and dropped a soft kiss to her head.

“Happy Anniversary.” he whispered, and she smiled up at him, understanding his gesture to also be an apology of sorts.

“Back at ya Soldier.” she swallowed back her tears, “You want breakfast?” “I’ll shower first.” he nodded to Sam and Wanda before pausing, and stealing the last piece of toast off Sam’s plate.

“Not cool man!” Sam groaned, “That was the last of the bread.” Steve simply shrugged at Sam’s protest, before he headed down the hallway to go and freshen up. Katie watched him go before she turned to Wanda.

“Fancy coming with me?”

She nodded “Sure.”

***** When Steve came back to the kitchen half an hour or so later he was surprised to find the girls gone.

“Store.” Sam supplied as he was flicking through the television in the lounge, settling on a British Chat Show called ‘This Morning’, easy, daytime TV that didn’t require thinking about. Steve made himself a coffee before he sat down next to his friend with a sigh.

“So, first anniversary.” Sam spoke, not looking at him. “Be this isn’t what you thought you’d be doing?” “You can say that again.” Steve mumbled. Just twelve months ago at that exact time he’d been bustling about his apartment on the compound in a fluster getting ready. It had, without a doubt, been the happiest day of his life. But this was not how he wanted their first wedding anniversary to go down. He’d always planned a nice getaway, somewhere warm, but that wasn’t an option. Certainly not yet. Even though he doubted they would be recognised, his stubble was now well on it’s way to being a fairly decent beard, he didn’t want to risk it by drawing attention to them being in a busy, touristy place.

“Me and Wanda are clearing out later.” Sam’s eyes remained on the TV, “Give you two a bit of alone time.” “You don’t have to-“ Steve started but Sam cut him off with a snort.

“You need to make some lovin’ on your girl.” he turned to the soldier who felt a flush rise up his neck. “Because we know you ain’t been getting enough, you’ve been a bad tempered bastard for weeks.”

“I have not.” Steve shot back indignantly, causing Sam to raise his eyebrows. Steve let out a sigh, knowing he was well and truly busted.

“Look, if you two ever need some space, all ya gotta do is ask.” Sam said sincerely, looking at Steve. “Couples need that time, hell my folks used to ship us off to uncles and aunties once a week just to get some time to themselves. This is bound to be stressful for you both.”

“I doubt it’s easy on you two either.” Steve looked at him and Sam shrugged, before he smirked.

“Difference is if I wanna get laid I’ll just head into town. There’ll be some sap out there that likes George Fletcher the Geologist from Georgia…”

“You’re terrible you know that?” Steve smirked at him over his coffee mug.

Sam simply smiled back. “You get her anything?”

“Cool man, she’ll love it.” Sam smiled encouragingly “I hope so Sam.” he sighed, leaning back against the couch cushions, scratching at his chin “I hope so.” *****

True to their word Sam and Wanda headed out just after 5pm, leaving Katie and Steve alone. As Katie bustled around in the kitchen, Steve couldn’t help but watch his wife as she cooked, a small smile playing on his face. And then, realising they were truly alone for the first time in months he placed his beer down on the side and crossed the small room, wrapping his arms around her from behind and dropping his chin to her shoulder, nuzzling at her neck. She smiled at his display of affection, something she’d been aching for and as the scruff of his almost-beard scratched at her skin she gave a soft sigh.

“You ok?” she asked.

“Yeah.” he said, before he shook his head “No. Not really. Doll, I’m sorry.” “What for?” she frowned, turning in his arms so she could look at him.

“For being so distant. You don’t deserve this.” he sighed. “After the accords, when the dust settled we were supposed to have a normal life, a simple life. I can’t even give you that."

"It's a good thing you're cute because at times you’re incredibly stupid," she said making him breathe a laugh. “Steve we’re here, together after everything. I made that vow, until death do us part and I mean it. I love you" she finished simply, shrugging. “So stop wasting time worrying about it. You're stuck with me, Captain Badass."

Steve looked back at her, before he gave her a small smile.

“You made mac and cheese?” his face creased into a boyish smile “And apple pie? What happened to not baking pies unless it’s Autumn?” “Well it’s September tomorrow.” she shrugged “and I thought it might cheer you up.”

"Sorry." He half grimaced, half smiled apologetically back at her. "I know I haven't been the easiest to be around lately ─"

"Stop apologizing." she interrupted him again.

He studied her for a second before he leaned down to give her a soft kiss. “I love you.” “I know.” she said, her hands sliding down to his chest and she gave him a quick pat before playfully shoving him away “Now scoot, unless you want me to burn dinner. Go set the table.” Knowing better than to refuse he did as he was told and it wasn’t long before they were settled down and eating. They talked about everything and anything, drank wine, and to the pair of them they could almost have been sat in their dining room at the compound. They laughed, they joked, they poked fun at one another. It felt normal. Once they had finished eating they cleared their dishes, Steve grabbed another bottle of wine and they headed to the couch to find something to watch on TV.

“I got you something.” Katie said when Steve dropped the wine onto the coffee table and she gestured to the small giftbag by the bottle.

“Oh, me too. Hang on.” he said, bounding up the stairs to retrieve his gift. As he returned, she eyed the 2 wrapped items with playful suspicion as he handed them to her. One was really heavy. She passed the gift bag containing his to him and he peeked inside, and they shared a childish grin with one another before they set about opening their presents.

“Oh Steve.” she breathed out as she gently ran her hands over the leather of the anthology he had bought her. Flicking through she spotted all the notes that someone had written in the margins. They consisted of opinions on the plays, themes, characterisation plots, all the type of thing she had studied at University and she found it fascinating to read other people’s interpretations.

“I thought you might like it.” he smiled as she beamed at him, before she let out another sigh of happiness when she opened the two sheet music books as they would give her something else to play other than the stuff she knew from memory.

“Well, the sketchbook is paper.” she explained softly “And I know it relaxes you to draw.” “Doll, it’s perfect” he said, dropping a kiss to her lips. “Thank you.”

“So, what film do you wanna watch?” She asked, moving for the remote but he had no intention of watching a film. Not now. He had other ideas. He gently grabbed her wrist and she looked at him.

“Right now Mrs Rogers,” he said, turning to her and her eyes widened when she saw his pupils dilating with unmistakable desire, “I’d really like to carry you upstairs and take you to bed.”

Katie grinned “Well that can be arranged, but there’s something I wanna do first.”

He looked at her, puzzled for a moment but when she tapped on her phone and the opening sounds of ‘Only One in Colour’ sounded over the speakers he laughed and stood up, offering her his hand.

“May I have this dance?” he quipped, arching an eyebrow at her.

“Always.” she smiled, allowing him to pull her up.

They moved to the back of the couch where there was more room and he took her in a hold and they simply stayed close, swaying to the music, both of them thinking back to their first dance as a married couple twelve months ago. Katie pressed her cheek to Steve’s chest and he in turn rest his chin on the top of her head, revelling in her closeness. He heard her let out a soft sigh, but this one was contentment and he gently moved to look down at her. For a moment Katie felt her breath catch, he was looking at her with nothing but unadulterated desire and love, the same way he had on their wedding day and before the song had even finished he’d captured her lips in a soft kiss, his hands moving to cradle her face. Hers fisted in his white T-shirt and it wasn’t long before the kiss had deepened causing a moan to catch in Steve’s throat. Without a word he pulled back and scooped her up in his arms, bridal style, causing her to giggle, a sound he would never tire of, and quick as a flash he carried her up the stairs and into the bedroom. He set her on her feet but before he had time to do anything she’d shoved him backwards, catching him off guard slightly causing him to sit down harshly on the bed and he let out a smirk as she straddled him before she kissed him again and he was happy to reciprocate exactly how he knew she liked, firm and gentle, passionate and caring all at once. Katie gently bit his lower lip drawing another groan from his throat as he rest his head against hers, his hands gently gipping her hip.

“You know,” she said drawing back slightly to cup his face in her fingertips “I really do like kissing you with this.” she traced her hand across the short beard on his face. She also liked looking at him with it too because, coupled with the fact his hair was also getting slightly longer too it gave him a rugged, harder, rougher look taking him farther and farther away from the Blue-Eyed all American boy day by day.

"I’m getting used to it.” he murmured pressing a soft kiss to her mouth before his head dropped, small kisses trailing up the length of her neck, that precious stubble creating an amazing contrast to the softness of his mouth.

“Yeah, me too.” she said, her eyes closed as she rolled her head back, giving him access to more of her neck, a soft sigh escaping her lips. He smiled slightly, happy to oblige and just take his god damned time loving his wife. Eventually his lips made their way up her jaw and then she sat up slightly, grasping at the hem of his T-shirt. He moved to allow her to take it off and then his fingers made short work of the sleeveless button down she had been wearing, shrugging it down over her shoulders before he peppered more kisses across her collar bone and down her sternum as he reached round to undo her bra. Gently, he lay her flat down on the bed, taking a nipple in his mouth, this time drawling a loud groan from her as her hips bucked involuntarily upwards at the sensations spiking through her body.

God it really had been far too long since he’d lavished attention on her like this and Steve made a mental not to tell Sam and Wanda to ‘take a walk’ a lot more often. It was almost two months now since they had last been intimate and, his body was aching for her, desperate to feel her and from the noises she was making she felt the same. His lips made their way down, nose and beard skimming along the waistband of her jeans before he undid them, sliding them down with her underwear as he shed his own too before he crawled back over her.

Katie pushed on his shoulders slightly so she could roll him over and placed herself on top of him, brushing her lips across the hairs on his face tracing a path across from one side of his jawline to the other drawing a gentle moan from his lips, hands flexing on her hips as she shifted slightly to start taking him in. Her mouth dropped into a small ‘o’ as they both groaned as she slid down him, her hands falling to his chest and once he was fully seated in her, she began to work him gently. His hands slid up into her hair, as she leaned forward to kiss him and he raised his hips slightly and she whimpered, pushing down harder against him as his hands gently kneaded at her breasts. Her pace was slow, torturously so, but it wasn’t long before she began to move faster, working him harder as she chased her relief. The roughness of his pubic hair was grinding against her spot, the friction feeling amazing as she pushed down. With every push she made, his eyes grew darker, and darker, his hands digging into her hips as he pulled her down, grinding further and deeper.

“Good?” he whispered, smiling as she managed a broken noise of affirmation, as he pulled her to him harder, hands back on her hips as his rutting picked up speed.

“Stevie…” she mumbled, her eyes locking onto his as her hands slid up his back and fisted into his hair. A few more pushes later and they were both done for, her name escaping from his lips as her walls collapsed completely, and she let out a soft cry as she fell forward burying her face in his neck. He was close behind, letting out a gentle moan, his beard rustling against her ear as he jerked underneath her, clinging onto her as if he never wanted to let her go. And at that moment he didn’t.

After a minute or so he leaned back, his breathing deep as he brushed her hair back off her face before sliding his nose against hers. “Happy Anniversary kitten.” *******

Steve thought the fall in New York was gorgeous but that was nothing to what it was like where they were. He was feeling a lot more positive about things as well, as post their anniversary, he and Katie had made a pact that they would do something alone together at least once a week, be it a walk along the cliff the beach, or straying into town to one of the local restaurants. His hair and beard now rendered him pretty much unrecognisable now and they never got a second glance at all.

Being on the run shouldn’t have been this easy, and they were constantly on edge, waiting for the time they had to split and run, but whilst they could, they made the most of it.

Thanksgiving came, then Christmas, the four friends making it as festive as possible. They got a tree, shared gifts, enjoyed a Christmas Meal, and after several drinks each Steve wheeled the piano into the living room where Sam and Katie gave a rousing rendition of ‘Fairy Tale of New York’ along with a few other Christmas songs. It was different, but that didn’t make it any less enjoyable.

“There’s something I wanted to discuss with you all.” Wanda said, the morning they were due to depart. “Please don't freak out, but I talked to Vision last night."

"What?" Katie’s voice was quiet as she merely looked back at the younger woman, her face passive.

Meanwhile, both Steve and Sam's eyebrows shot up in their foreheads.

"Hold on, what do you mean you talked to Vision?” Steve asked. “How? Where?"

"This is going to sound really weird, but I saw him in my dreams," Wanda carried on with her explanation.

"How do you know that wasn't just a dream?" Sam asked.

"Because it wasn't," Wanda shrugged "I don't know how to explain it, but I know it was him and I know it was real. I think we are connected somehow, because of the Mind Stone and because I was thinking about him before I went to sleep, it made some kind of telepathy possible.”

When you put it like that it seemed fairly logical.

"Okay. What did you talk about?" Katie asked after a moment.

"Just stuff, how I was, how much we, you know, miss one another" Wanda bit her lip. "We talked about actually meeting in person in a few days."

"Okay, hold on," Sam said, furrowing his forehead and holding one of his hands up. "How do we know this is not a trap? Like, I don't know, Tony getting Vision to talk to you to get us back into the Raft?"

"He wouldn't do that," she said.

“How do you know?” Sam pressed.

“Because Tony has way better tech than us, and there's no accounting for what Vision can do with that Mind Stone.” Steve looked at him. This was something he had been pondering on for a while now too “If anyone can find us, it's them, yet we’re almost 10 months down the line now since Leipzig and so far, there's no sign of any one, so Tony’s either no longer working with Ross, or if he is, he's dragging his feet deliberately.”

"Exactly," Wanda nodded emphatically. "And Vision would never do anything to hurt me, not intentionally. I trust him with my life, but it's more than that."

Taking a deep breath, his mind made up, Steve turned to Wanda “You’re not a prisoner here Wanda. If you want to go then we can’t and we won’t stop you.”

“Do you want to go?” Katie looked at the younger woman who was wringing her hands together.

“I do but, well, I kinda feel like I’m fraternizing with the enemy.”

“But we’re on the run because…”

“And let’s face it, I was always going to be considered a rogue threat the moment I refused to comply” Steve said, a wry smile on his face. “We all were.”

“Just be careful.” Katie looked at Wanda. “And whilst we’re away just make sure you check in once in a while? And the first sign of trouble, well, let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

“Well if Wanda’s being granted shore leave so to speak, I might take a bit of time too.” Sam chipped in as the idea came to him. “There’s an old RAF pal of mine, based in Bracknell near London I aint seen in a while. He’s cool,” he anticipated the next question, “I saved his life on a mission so he won’t sell me out.” Steve took a deep breath and then shrugged “You know the risks, Sam. If any of us get caught then…” “Back to the Pokey.” Sam shrugged “Yeah, I got it. And don’t worry, I wouldn’t rat your location out.”

“Me neither.” Wanda added.

“I suppose, to be fair,” Katie bit her lip, “we’ve been here for a long time now. It won’t harm us to disappear for a while, regroup in a few weeks. And we’ll draw even less attention apart as they won’t be expecting it.” And so, for the first time in 10 months, the four went their separate ways. ****** True to his word Steve was there when they woke Bucky up. Once he had come round the two greeted one another with the same love and affection they always did. Suri’s scans showed that the programming was no longer present in Bucky’s brain, but there was one last thing they had to do to make sure.

Say the trigger words.

Which was why Katie, Steve, a one armed Bucky and T’Challa were now heading to the underground fort of the palace. Steve in his combat suit, Katie in her cat suit clutching a rifle and T’Challa in his black panther garb, two members of his Kings Guard guard following behind.

As they were about to enter the underground cell, Bucky grabbed Katie’s arm and pulled her to one side.

“What the hell Bucky?” she almost yelped, and he let go of her arm and held his finger to his lips.

“Listen, Doll, I got a favour to ask. If this hasn’t worked…” he took a deep breath “I want you to end it.”

“End what?” she arched an eyebrow at him. “Me.” he said simply “Steve’s said you’re a good shot. I want you to put a bullet in my head.” Katie looked at him, and then burst out laughing “Whatever.” “I’m being deadly serious.” he looked at her. “I can’t and I don’t want to live like that anymore.” he shook his head sadly “I’d rather die that know that what they’ve done is still in there.” “Bucky,” she frowned, “you’d be safe here, you know that, no one would trigger you.” “No, we don’t know that.” he said earnestly, “Please Katie, I’m begging you. You owe me, remember?” “So you save my life and you want me to take yours?” “Yeah.” he nodded, “Pretty much.”

“You’re an asshole James Buchanan Barnes” she hissed, glaring at him before shooting a glance over his shoulder at where Steve was stood, talking to T’Challa. She shook her head sadly. “I can’t.”

“Listen, I’m asking you because I trust you to do it.” he said, looking over his shoulder to where she had been watching Steve. He was now stood observing the pair of them and they both smiled at him. Katie took a deep breath, looking into Bucky’s steel blue eyes and gave a sigh. She knew how hard this was on him and she could fully understand where he was coming from but still, asking her to do it, especially when she knew Steve would be besides himself made her feel sick.

“I’ve written Steve a letter.” Bucky said quickly, as the Super Soldier was now making his way over. “It explains what I’ve asked you to do. So please, give me your word.”

She looked at him, swallowing, and gave him a small nod before her eyes flicked to Steve as he approached, a frown on his face.

“You two alright?” he asked.

“Yeah, Katie was just asking me how I was really feeling.” Bucky looked at his friend.

Katie shrugged and smiled at Steve in what she hoped as a convincing way “Wanted to make sure he was alright, that’s all.”

Steve and T’Challa stepped into the room which was sealed whilst Katie took up her position on the other side of the one way glass with Suri who pressed the microphone to talk into the room.

““I don’t know why you are all worrying, brother, it is like you do not trust me…” the young woman scoffed. “Take no chances Sister.” T’Challa shot back. “You know this”.

“Ready Buck?” he asked turning back. His friend nodded, taking a deep breath.

T’Challa signalled to Suri who, after a little hesitation, began to read, each word punctuated by a pause.

"Longing, Rusted, Seventeen, Daybreak, Furnace…”

“ Nine, Benign, Homecoming, One, Freight Car"

Sick bastards.

“Buck?” he asked gently, his voice cracking slightly. Bucky looked at him, a single tear falling down his cheek.

“Nothing.” he said, and Katie let out a soft sigh of relief, her hands sliding down her face to cover her mouth. “Nothing.”

T’Challa threw a party of sorts that night which consisted of a bar crawl through the city. Katie and Bucky dubbed it a “Fuck Hydra” party much to Steve’s chagrin. But he couldn’t bring himself to care that much, as at the end of the day, if anyone had as much right to stick their middle fingers up to Hydra it was them. There was still something troubling him though, so when T’Challa left the bar they were sat at for a few moments, he turned to Bucky and asked him outright what had been going on with him and Katie outside the cell before. Bucky hesitated before he hung his head slightly and peered up at Steve from where he was sat next to him, a tumbler of some kind of Wakandan alcohol in his hand.

“I asked her to kill me.” Bucky admitted, swilling the liquid round in the glass “If it hadn’t worked I asked her to put a bullet in my head. She didn’t want to but I told her she owed me.” Steve felt himself blanche “You did what?” “You don’t know what it’s like.” Bucky shook his head “Living with the fact that at any time someone could mutter a string of words and…” he shot back the alcohol and slid his empty glass back to the Bar Tender to top up. “I didn’t want to live like.”

”You put that on her?” Steve’s eyes flashed with anger, “Damnit Buck, you should have asked me!”

“Would you have done it?” Bucky countered, Steve took a big sigh, knowing he was caught “Exactly.” Bucky scoffed “And besides, you’re the one that said she was a dead shot.”

Bucky eyed his friend for a while before he slid his empty glass to the man behind the bar, gesturing for another top up. “Anyway, it’s irrelevant now because here I am.” he smirked

Steve nodded and reached over his glass, smiling “Yeah, here you are.” T’Challa chose that point to come back and he settled at the bar next to Steve.

“So, Sergeant Barnes, we’ll have to see about getting you some permanent lodgings.” he smiled “Maybe a private hut. There is a quiet tribe, not far from the river, unless you would prefer a post in my Kings Guard.” “I’m done fighting” Bucky shook his head as he took another drink from his glass. “Certainly for the time being anyway. A hut sounds mighty fine. Maybe I can get some goats.” “Goats?” Steve looked at him.

“I like Goats.” Bucky shrugged “Do you remember the one in the petting zoo near School?” “Yeah, it set my asthma off” Steve snorted before the pair of them descended into laughter.

Across the bar Katie was stood with Suri and one of T’Challa’s personal guards, Okoye. She instantly warmed to Okoye, the woman reminding her a lot of Natasha. They stood chatting for a while before a loud roll of laughter caught their attention and they turned to see T’Challa, Bucky and Steve howling at something, as T’Challa gestured for the bar tender to top up their glasses whilst Okoye excused herself to head over to speak to her husband.

“Oh they’ve broken out the Wakandan Spice” Suri muttered, eyeing up the men.

“What’s that?” Katie asked.

“The only thing that gets my brother drunk!” she snorted “That stuff could knock out a rhino.”

“So it should have an effect on Super Soldiers?” Katie grinned. Drunk Steve was one of her favourite Steves.

“Hey beautiful” Steve smiled up at Katie, pulling her into his lap, his hand trailed up and down her spine, lazily. "Where you been all evening?”

“About 10 meters away over there.” she smirked, pointing. Suri was reaching over to steal a bit of the liquor from Bucky’s glass and T’Challa slapped her hand. “You are not even old enough to drink.” he glared at her.

“Tssk hush brother. Just because you are now well into your 30s. You always seem to be so bitter about me being much younger than you.” At that Bucky barked out a laugh.

“Don’t know what you’re snorting at old man.” Katie glanced at him and he quirked an eyebrow at her.

"Not exactly a comment I'd expect from someone who’s married to a 100-year-old man."

"98” Steve corrected.

Katie leaned back in her husband's lap to peer at him, her right hand running through his hair. "Doesn't look a day over twenty nine," she grinned.

“Hey brother, why doesn’t your power stop your ageing?” Suri quipped.

“Shut up.” T’Challa said. “Before I carry you back to the palace”

As the two siblings began to quibble, Katie glanced at Steve. “Been talking about the good old days?” “In a fashion.” Steve smirked.

“Anymore good tales of your misspent youth to tell me?” Bucky shook his head. “Sure Steve’s told you enough already.”

"I never told her about the time you set up a double date for us and then forgot to show up." Steve looked at him, his arms tightening around his wife.

"That never happened." Bucky shook his head.

"It absolutely happened. Caroline O’Hara and Deborah Smith"

Bucky’s eyes widened. “Oh shit, yeah. Brunette and a red head. A curly red head.” he grinned.

“Yup. Double date to the theatre, only you never showed up.” Steve looked at him, accusingly “And little old me was left to explain to Debbie why you had stood her up."

Bucky smirked into his glass.

"I thought she was gonna kill me," Steve mused, turning to look at Katie. “She kept hitting me with her purse. And then Caroline started, asking where the hell he was and why he thought it fit to stand up her best friend and fix her up with some kind of joke.”

Katie frowned, narrowing her eyes. "You weren’t a joke."

"Thanks baby." he grinned before he turned to fix Bucky with a glare “And do you remember why you didn’t show up?” Bucky was now shaking with mirth, as he looked at Steve, his eyes bright with tears of laughter “Go on, tell her Buck.”

"I was with Maggie Dougherty.” he smirked

“Yeah, you were.” Steve pointed at him, “That was the night you got caught sneaking out of her room and down her fire escape by her dad who beat the crap out of you.”

“Worth it though.” Bucky snorted “She was hot. Brunette waves, pretty face, nice ass.” “Yeah.” Steve nodded and Katie slapped the back of his head.

“Oww!” he looked at her as she glared at him. Grinning he reached up to give her a soft kiss “Not a patch on you though, pretty girl..”

After another hour or so Katie left them to it, heading back to the palace with Suri. She’d had enough, the alcohol she had drunk had lulled her into that happy place here she felt warm and fuzzy inside, and ready for bed.

Unfortunately, Steve woke her up when he came crashing into the room a few hours later.

“Shit.” he mumbled, as he banged into the chair by the dresser. “Shhhh” he said, to no one but himself. He staggered over to the bed before face planting straight down.

Katie grinned as he peeked up at her.

“I’m drunk.” he told her, because he had to explain or she wouldn’t know, right?

“No shit Sherlock.” she giggled and scrambled out of the duvet “Ok Captain Badass, let’s get you in bed.” “Promises, promises.” he said wriggling his eyebrow, eyeing her up and down as she leaned over, flashing him a glimpse down the top she was wearing to bed.

“Yeah, not a chance pal. I doubt very much you’d be of any use in this state.”

“Hey.” he pouted rolling over so he was on his back, watching her as she climbed over the bed “Why are you not wearing one of my T’shirts?”

“I dunno.” she said, dropping to the floor to take off his suede boots. “Just put this on.”

“I like you in my shirts.I like you better out of them.” he grinned, grabbing hold of her as she stood up.

“How much have you had?” she laughed as he pulled her onto his lap, nuzzling into her neck.

“Enuff.” he spoke back, voice muffled. “You know you’re the prettiest gal in the whole world?” He peeked up at her and she had to laugh as she ruffled his hair.

“Arms up.”

“I like it when you undress me” he grinned, and she rolled her eyes.

Eventually she managed to tug off his shirt and his jeans whilst he made some other reference to sex, before he pulled her back down onto the bed next to him, giggling like a school kid.

“Bucky told me.” He slurred.

“Told you what?”

“That he asked you to shoot him.” Steve hiccupped “But I’m glad you didn’t have to.”

Katie chuckled to herself “Me too baby.” “And now he’s all better.” Steve sighed, “Good isn’t it?” “It’s awesome.” she smiled, reaching up to bush his hair off his face. “You’re gonna be so hungover tomorrow.” He responded with shrug. “I do love you. So much.”

“I know and I love you too.” she said, “Now you gonna get into bed?”

“Are you gonna puke?” she asked, stroking his head as he sighed, nuzzling into his pillow.

“No.” he said, shaking his head. Then a pause before he hiccupped slightly “But I think I need water.” “Alright, wait there.” Katie climbed out of bed. She grabbed him a bottle from the mini fridge near the door but by the time she had turned back, Steve had his face buried into his pillow and made nothing more than a noise when she offered it to him, not looking up. Deciding she couldn’t be bothered to argue with him, she gently placed the bottle on the night stand next to him, and ran her hand through his hair one more time before she crossed to her side of the bed and settled down with him.

“Night soldier.” she said softly, kissing his cheek.

“Night princess.” he slurred into his pillow.