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loveofafangirl · 4 years ago

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72 Hours

[Baron Zemo Masterlist] [Marvel Masterlist]

Pairing: Baron Zemo x Reader/You (no gender, race or body type described)

Synopsis: You are tasked with watching Zemo for the weekend while he assists you in providing tech support and intel to your teammates in the field. *Sort of: Enemies to Lovers* *One-Shot: Not same “reader” as my other stories.

Word Count: 2.2K (sorry this is longer than I intended)

A/N: This is a request for @purebloodwitch, where y/n is part of the Avengers and used to taking care of everyone, but at Zemo’s safe house he starts taking care of her and she is uncomfortable at first. I hope this fits what you are looking for. I hope you enjoy it.

3 days.

72 hours.

That's how long you had to suffer his company. You stare out the window, taking in the country view. The car was taking the two of you to one of his safe houses. You had wanted to go on the mission with the rest of your team, but you were the most organized and could most easily relay intel to different groups as you uncovered it. Plus, it had been decided you were the least likely to bring physical harm to him. Though, you weren't so sure at the moment.

You had been against Bucky's plan to release Zemo. You remembered the bombing at the U.N. and the fallout that began that day. You blame him for the Snap and the loss of so many of your colleagues. If he hadn't turned the Avengers against one another, maybe Thanos never would have collected all six Infinity Stones. Maybe no one would have vanished, tearing the world apart—twice: once when they disappeared and again when they returned. As far as you were concerned, Zemo was the catalyst that led to Thanos, the need for the GRC, and the rise of the Flagsmashers. Everything began that day at the U.N.

You look at your watch:

71 hours and 26 minutes.

When you arrive at his safe house, he insists you let him hold the door for you. You had always stood on your own, caring for those around you. You weren't used to gestures such as these, nor did you want them, least of all from him.

Your fists clench when he refuses to go in first. Reluctantly, you proceed, allowing him to hold each door for you.

"Would you like a tour?" He gestures grandly around the lavish apartment.

"No," you state coldly, ignoring his coy smile that seemed to dip slightly at your tone. "Just tell me where to set up."

"Perhaps by the windows," he suggested. "The panels are one way. You can see out, but no one can see in. It should give us a good vantage point to keep watch without being noticed."

You begin moving the bags of equipment you brought.

"Allow me." Without waiting, he takes the bags from you and carries them to the area he had previously pointed out.

You follow wordlessly.

"There you go."

You nod your gratitude, unable to bring yourself to say thank you to him.

"Is there anything else?"

"No. When I'm done setting up, you'll need to tell me everything you know about Project Typhon and get me the decrypted files you insisted that only you could access."

"Of course, I am at your service."

You keep an eye on him while working. You still couldn't believe you got stuck babysitting. Now your focus was split between the work and making sure he didn't get into any trouble.

He moves about the kitchen, grabbing this and that. He returns with a tray in his hands containing a teapot, two cups and saucers, small sandwiches, and a tin of cookies. "I had the pantry stocked before our arrival."

You give him a curious expression.

"I did not want you believing they had been sitting for the years."

"I'm good."

He pours two cups of tea, offering one to you. "You haven't eaten since early morning. Please, help yourself."

You breathe deeply, trying not to give in. You had packed some rations, but you hadn't eaten any yet. You hate how appealing everything looked. You begin reaching for it, but pull back, now convincing yourself it could be poisoned. You turn your attention back to your work after a quick glance at your watch.

65 hours.

The evening passes slowly. You juggle your Zemo-sitting duty with decoding his cryptic replies into useable intel to relay to the two teams you were monitoring while also keeping an eye out for any digital chatter that may hinder your mission.

"Why me?" You sigh to yourself, thinking back to how you had asked Sam that same question when he first told you this was your assignment.

"You're good with people, Y/N."

"So you're sticking me with him?" You pointed an accusatory finger over your shoulder to Zemo.

His head shifted to the side, "No offense taken. I understand the difficulties. If you allow me a moment to explain."

"You understand nothing," you chided. Your gaze narrowed to a glower.

"Easy, Y/N," Bucky interjected.

"You of all people—" Your head shook in disbelief. "I was there. I saw what he did."

"We need him. He's the lesser of two evils right now."

You crossed your arms, not sure that was true.

Your thoughts drift back to the present. You check the time again:

63 hours.

Zemo lounges beside you, nursing a drink in his hand. "I surmised you would decline a drink like my own, so I brought you a coffee instead. I noticed you had a few over the past days." He gestures to the warm mug on the table beside you.

The rich aroma captivated you as you breathe in its bold notes. You really needed it. Begrudgingly, you took your first sip. It is better than you expected. A hum of delight slips from your lips.

Noting his growing smirk, you muster the strength, uttering, "Thank you." You surprise yourself at the sound of your tone. It was much more cordial than you had intended it to be.

"It was my pleasure, Y/N."

The two of you remain in silence, except for the occasional exchange needed for the mission. You were so focused on the job you hadn't even noticed him refill your coffee cup until you picked it up, expecting to savor the last drops but found a full cup met you instead.

He kept working, seemingly not looking for any credit. You didn't offer any, but you had to bite your lips back to stop a smile threatening to erupt.

57 hours.

You rub your eyes and stretch your arms. "I'm going to try to get some sleep. Don't even think about trying anything."

"Wouldn't dream of it." He stood as you made your departure. "Gute Nacht. Sleep well."

You walk away without looking back. You knew there were agents strategically placed along the perimeter so he wouldn't get far, but you still worried.

Warm sunlight streams in the window of the large bedroom, gently caressing your face. The mattress is so soft and amazing; it sucked you into its depths immediately, and you fell quickly. You nuzzle in the soft fabric of the bedding, not wanting to move. It was your best sleep in months, even though it was only for a few hours. You think to yourself that you could get used to this.

Your body tenses at the thought as you remember where you are. You jump out of bed and quickly get dressed. Your team is counting on you. You swipe your phone checking the time.

52 hours.

You head straight to your setup; your fingers float nimbly across the keyboard as you attempt to focus solely on your work. Your stomach growls, pulling your focus. The scent of bacon frying greets you. You turn toward the kitchen, and for the first time, notice Zemo.

He catches your eye. "Would you like to join me for breakfast? I've set the two places." Sensing your hesitation. "I can bring it for you as well."

You glance at your phone. No new communications from the team. No alerts from any of the traces you had set up. Nothing to keep you there. Before you know it, you're walking in his direction.

He moves around the counter, pulling out one of the high bar chairs for you.

You sit, even allowing him to push it in for you, a warmth spreading over you.

"Please." He gestures to the plate in front of you and takes the seat opposite you. "Enjoy."

You nibble on a piece of bacon and let the taste linger on your tongue. It was just the way you liked it. He sips his black coffee, watching you enjoy the first bites. You cover your mouth, feeling self-conscious suddenly. You shake your head, trying to brush away the feeling as you question why you care what he thinks.

Your phone lights up, but it's nothing important. You glance at the time 7:11. You try to remember why you cared. Your attention shifts once more to the man across from you; that was why.

51 hours.

The two of you go about the day. Zemo is more useful than you expected. He quickly decodes and unscrambles messages and relays them to the team. Like you, he thrives on analytics and strategic thinking. There were moments where you actually enjoyed the conversation that developed.

A few times, your fingers brush against his while reaching for the same thing. He always offered his apologies with that smile that made you forget what he'd done that day.

Before you know it, he's bringing you dinner.

"Is it really that late already?" You question, glancing at the time. You accept the plate. "Thank you."

You enjoy a pleasant evening together, sharing the meal he prepared for you. He was a great cook to your surprise. This was better than anything you had eaten at the Avengers compound lately.

As the night lingers and you wait for your team to send you new intel, he tells you stories about Sokovia. Once, he mentions his son before pausing and quickly changing the topic.

In your rush to label him as a terrorist because of that fateful day, you never listened to his reasonings. They didn't excuse his actions, but he wasn't the cold-hearted killer you had expected based on his military profile. He was just a man who lost his entire world.

When you part for the evening, you gaze back, lifting your hand. "Good night, Zemo."

The next morning, you wake softly, breathing in the comfort of the bed. You reach for your phone; his file is still open from where you fell asleep reading it. You wanted to understand him. There was so much more than you gave him credit for.

You realize you were wrong. He wasn't the cause of everything that happened. You were. Everything began not the day at the U.N., but that day in Sokovia, with Ultron, and with the Avengers. They had created Zemo; he was merely a product of their haste. They were the catalyst to their own undoing. He had just shone a light on it.

You lie back thinking over the past two days—the conversations that you'd shared, the kindness he had insisted upon, even when you tried to care for yourself, and those small touches that elicited a feeling you couldn't understand.

Your last day together followed much of the same patterns: sharing meals, breaking down and relaying intel, keeping watch.

You notice how at ease you are. Your body is calm with no tensions or worries. You hadn't checked the time since—well, you weren't really sure. A look of horror flashes on your face as you realize you were enjoying this—enjoying him.

"What did I miss?" He questions, strolling in from his bath, still in his robe.

Your body flushes, and your eyes cascade over his form. Realizing what you had done, you turn away and clear your throat. "Can you please put some clothes on?"

He shrugs and walks off. As soon as he turns away, you find yourself chewing your cheek as you watch him leave. "Snap out of it! The only thing that matters is the job," you scold yourself.

For the rest of the day, you keep your distance, averting your gaze, and avoiding him as much as possible. When he wishes you good night, you don't reply, hurrying off as quickly as possible.

You hope to find reprieve in the quiet of your room in the comfort of the softest mattress you had ever known. However, you toss and turn all night, your mind restless with growing thoughts of him.

You skip breakfast, or so you had planned. When you didn't come out, he left it outside your door.

You pack up in silence, catching glimpses of his curious look. You know he is probably wondering what changed, but he doesn't pressure you.

As you leave, you take one glance back at the beautiful apartment.

He waits at the door, holding it open for you.

This time, you don't protest and even offer your thanks. A smile fills your face as he opens the car door too.

Your eyes close, remembering all the good moments from the past 72 hours. Without thinking, you turn into him, brushing a kiss on his cheek. "Thank you."

Your gaze lingers on his soft brown eyes longer than you intend. You feel trapped, unable to break away, but you don't want to either. You lick your lips, wanting more, but worrying what it would mean. You decide to go for it, but as you move to him, he's already there, meeting you halfway until he pulls you entirely into his embrace. His lips are warm and inviting. You feel the world around you melt away under his tenderness.

Your heart flutters when you finally pull away. "That's a one-time thing."

His head tilts to the side, considering your words, and then nods in agreement.

You get in the car, your gaze still focused on him, a devilish smirk forming on your lips. "Unless I decide it's not."

Marvel Perma(til the end of the line): @the-soot-sprite; @fandomxreaders ; @moonstuffsteve

Zemo tags: @montypythonsholysnail ; @killsandthrills ; @noavengers ; @nalabarnes1031 ; @trelaney ; @willowtheewisp ; @marchingicenotes7 ; @valquiria3000

#baron zemo #baron zemo x reader #baron zemo x you #baron zemo fan fiction #the falcon and the winter soldier #tfatws #zemo #zemo x you #zemo x reader #helmut zemo #helmut zemo x you #helmut zemo x reader #daniel bruhl

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siodium · 2 years ago

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𝘕𝘌𝘕𝘋𝘖 𝘊𝘓𝘖𝘛𝘏𝘌𝘚 𝘏𝘈𝘜𝘓 ft. 𝙎𝘼𝙉𝘿𝘼𝙇𝙋𝙃𝙊𝙉

welcome to part one of my nendo clothes haul where i’ll be featuring some clothing sets~ i bought a lot of individual clothing pieces as well but am i ready to style them?? no

i’m hesitant to shoot the second part of the haul bc it look me literally the wHOLE DAY to do the shoot and edit the photos aND I DIDN’T EVEN HAVE TO DO ANY STYLING it’s gonna take forever if i had to mix and match pieces ugh ;_;

so for context i bought nendo doll bodies from amiami like over two years ago?? but i only recently started to invest in the hobby and by that i mean i’ve already spent over $200 on clothes and stuff

is this how it feels to be an adult with an income

ok but in my defence it’s A LOT of clothes i’m not even kidding

i even bought duplicate items by accident bc my dumb ass didn’t check the cart properly ughhh

anyways yes my nendos have more drip than me

let’s get into the haul~

for reference i’m using the nendoroid boy body in almond milk

you should have already seen the first outfit from my previous post but i thought i’d show it off with the hat that it came with as well

this cafe/bakery outfit is definitely one of my favs!! it came with so many individual pieces (hat, apron, top, shorts, a hip pouch thing) which means i can style the pieces with other items to create a brand new look~

i bought the brown shoes separately and they were a little pricey but no regrets they match perfectly with the outfit and they’re so well made?? the little details wow O:

i rly like the maid/gothic lolita outfit as well!! the set came with a bonnet too but i have no idea how to put it on sandy’s head :// might wanna try it on someone with less spiky hair

one taobao seller gave me a free gift that came with blu-tack so now i don’t have to struggle to make sandy hold his teapot and teacup heheh

i meant to show off the shoes ok i’m not trying to be sus 👀

this is how the dress looks without the apron

the next outfit is bringing back the poopio maydays feels

the shark outfit was something i’d been looking forward since i ordered it from a carouseller in feb i think?? apparently taobao shipping kept screwing up the orders so it only came like a few weeks ago yikess

also i got this shopping cart too bc i thought it’d make a good photo prop but now i’m not so sure hmmm it’s still rly cute tho

aaaa he looks so soft in this outfit

too bad the hood doesn’t fit over sandy’s hair but it does fit properly on akechi so i guess only smooth and unpoofy hair works with it

there’s a human sized version of the shark slippers that he is wearing and i’m tempted to get a pair for myself lmao

finally we have the mafia-zaddy-from-wattpad outfit

i got this set bc i thought the inner shirt with tie and the black pants kinda look like akechi’s summer uniform except the tie isn’t stripy and i don’t think i can remove it

well doesn’t rly matter it looks great i love suits

also these are the only pants i got that have velcro at the back and they’re so much easier to put on compared to the ones with elastic waistbands (those get stuck on the joints a lot...) 👍 velcro supremacy

that’s all for part one of the haul now i need to rest zzzz sooo tired

is this how it feels like to film/shoot a lookbook......

#i kinda dig the new editing style for the photoset #i was going for a magazine feature type of style but idk it turned out like this #log #nendoroid #ねんどろいど

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cinnamonest · 3 years ago

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Yo what's up I had a cool dream so now I'm sharing the concept

Set in Liyue during the Archon war, sometimes after Xiao was freed from an evil god by Morax. There's a battle between two factions, and he gets very injured, but is surprisingly healed by a Darling from the opposite faction. In my dream it was Osial's daughter, but it could be any other god's subject. He's confused why an enemy helped him, what their motive is, so he goes to stalk gather information on her. As to why the Darling helped him, maybe she's just a kind person, maybe she saw a young boy on the battlefield and felt pity, maybe she couldn't recognize he was an enemy, who knows. What Xiao discovers is that she doesn't seem like an evil person unlike whoever Morax's enemy is, and thus decides that she's obviously held captive just like he was, which means she needs saving. So he talks to Morax

Eventually, Darling's village is attacked, and she sees her family and friends slaughtered, her God sealed down, and the boy she helped once covered in blood of her siblings insisting he's here to save her.

Whether she thinks she needs saving or not.

Bonus points if Darling despises Morax, obviously she's just brainwashed and doesn't know what she's talking about. He'll fix that.

Hello! I've sent you an anon about me having yandere Xiao dream with an enemy Darling from the Archon War, and I have come with another dream scenario! Xiao won't stop haunting my dreams, good for him good for him. Thank you for the brainrot food it's 99% this blog's fault I'm having yandere dreams I'm sure

Anyways, Darling stuck in Xiao's sereniteapot, it's small and she's begging him and crying to let her outside, how she misses Liyue, etc etc. And after some time, eventually, she wakes up in a different place than the usual teapot room. After looking around, she realizes she's outside, on a vaguely familiar road to Liyue Harbor. Not sure what's happening, but she still runs towards the city as fast as she can, desperate to get some help. And when she sees the city in the distance she almost cries in relief

Except, when she arrives, nobody's there. No matter how much she knocks no doors will open, the streets are empty, there's not even a stray animal in sight. She searches for someone, anyone until night falls and Xiao appears

At this point she's so terrified of the silence and solitude she's even happy to see him, rushes towards him and sobs about how everyone is gone.

Xiao's just confused. He made you a whole new teapot that looked like Liyue so you could stop crying about missing it and now you're crying again. Being hugged by the terrified Darling isn't that bad for him at all tho

Anyways running around a ghost city and being unable to open any doors in the dream was terrifying, I too started crying the moment I saw Xiao

---------------------------------------------------------

NICE NICE how do yall have such detailed dreams I wish I could, I never have dreams tbh :(

Poor angel. He tries so hard but he just doesn’t get it. He’s a dumb boy at his core and we love him for it.

I am also very very VERY much in love with the idea of a Xiao darling that despises Morax, but he doesn’t learn this until he’s already head over heels and just comes to a screeching halt in his thought process when she starts ranting like??? What kind of blasphemy is this?? He still loves you but that actually just makes him madder like no. You’re not allowed to feel that way. You’re mistaken on something, that’s all. Brainwashed. You’ll see. One way or another.

#ss #lena's asks #q #.x

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justthehiddleswrites · 4 years ago

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Accidently Married | Tom Hiddleston x OFC | Chapter 2 | Be Careful with Clive, I Have Grown Attached to Him

A/N: Tom makes certain comments about an ex (who is unnamed). It is a fictional girlfriend, take from it what you will. Keep your hate to yourself.

SERIES MASTERLIST HERE

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x OFC (Molly Bishop)

Summary: Tom is stuck in a news cycle from hell; Molly is stuck in the dead end job of bartending with a pile of student and credit debt. Tom has an idea to solve all their problems. Get married, get the paparazzi off his back, divorce after a year and Tom pays off Molly’s debts. Tom has everything figured out, that is until he sees Molly as more than a just a friend and so does someone else. In this vying for affections who will win, the handsome Brit or the boy from Boston?

This Chapter: Tom and Molly are now married. Surprise! These two talk about the logistics of Tom’s half-baked plan. And Molly moves to London to face the firing squad, aka the paparazzi.

Warnings: fake marriage, smut (vaginal sex), mentions of: child abuse/neglect, foster care, substance abuse, cheating.

TAGLIST IS OPEN! PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED! THANK YOU FOR READING!

–

After they signed the license along with the apostille, there had been dancing. That much Molly remembered. And drinking. Specifically drinking champagne. Tom danced with abandon, pulling Molly into the whirlwind of activity he created around him.

But now it was morning, and Molly woke up in a bed that wasn’t her own. She groaned as her head pounded, having forgotten that champagne and her have a love-hate relationship. Molly saw the faint outline of Tom asleep on the couch, his long body stretched out, still wearing his suit from last night. After glancing at the alarm clock, Molly fell back asleep.

Several hours, Molly woke up again and headed to the bathroom, not noticing the now opened curtains.

“Hey good lookin, Whatcha got cookin,” Tom’s voice twanged as he stepped out of the shower. His head pounded a bit, but not the worst hangover he had.

“AHHH!!!” Molly screamed as she stepped into the bathroom.

They both froze, which was more embarrassing for Tom, as at least Molly was still wearing her dress from last night.

“You’re naked.” Molly blinked, her head darting around the room until she focused on an interesting corner of the room.

Tom chuckled, grabbing a towel and wrapping it loosely around his waist. “I don’t normally shower in my clothes. You can look back now.”

She slowly turned back around. “Sorry.” She shuffled her feet. “I should have knocked.”

“It’s quite alright.” He moved towards the door. “Shower is yours and we should talk things over.”

Molly nodded. “We should.”

While Molly showered, Tom dressed in the other room. After finding a clean t-shirt for Molly to wear over her dress until she could change, he called the airlines and changed his single ticket for that morning to a later flight for two, fishing Molly’s ID out of her wallet.

“Thanks for the shirt.” she stepped out.

“It looks good on you.” Tom gestured to the sofa. “Sit. Would you like some breakfast?” Her stomach growled. They both laughed. “That would be a yes.” Tom shoved the room service menu. “Order what you like.”

She selected an egg white frittata while Tom got the pancakes. Tom put in the order and returned his attention to Molly.

“So let’s talk about how this will work.” Tom shifted in his seat.

“An excellent idea. You mentioned living together in London. When do we leave?”

“This afternoon.”

Molly coughed. “That quick?”

“I’m afraid so.” Tom’s hands fidgeted in his lap. She noticed he was still wearing the spider ring. “I have work obligations back home and in order for it to be believable you would need to live with me.”

“Naturally.” Molly slapped her thighs. “So after breakfast, I can head back to my apartment, pack up what little I have, say goodbye to my roommate, and change into appropriate clothing. And you need to get us some proper rings.” She waved her hot pink ring in the air. “Unless of course you intend for your bride to wear a ring from the top of a cupcake.”

“Only if I get to keep my ring. I’ve grown quite attached to Clive.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You named the spider?”

“Yes.” There was a knock on the door. “That will be the food. Allow me.” He disappeared and returned shortly with a rolling table, ladened with food. Tom poured a cup of coffee and offered one to Molly.

“I don’t drink coffee.”

“I can have them bring up a teapot.”

“I’m pretty sure there are some complimentary ones in the room. Now,” She cut into her food and took a bite. “how will everything else work? Living with you, your life, the paparazzi? That is the whole point of this charade.”

“You do get down to business. So yes, I would expect you to live in my home. In a separate bedroom, I can set up another room as an office for you. We would need to attend events together and generally appear as a loving couple on the outside.”

“And my debts? That is part of the deal, right?”

“Right,” Tom gazed over at her while eating his pancakes. “I would assume the payments while we are together, and after the divorce is final, I would pay off any balance. I would also take care of your daily expenses while we are married. You are welcome to work if you want, but I will give you spending money.”

“So I would be a trophy wife?” Her brown eyes glinted.

Tom waved his hands in front of him. “Not that is not what I meant… I…”

“I am kidding, Tom. If you prefer, I can not work. I don’t mind. Give me some time to figure things out.” A thought came to her. “What about…” Molly searched for the words. “… other needs? Or if you wish to engage in a romantic relationship?” Her cheeks blushed as the words fell out of her mouth.

Tom blushed as well. “I have great self-control and I think if either of us get to that point, we can discuss it. I don’t want you to feel trapped.”

“And I don’t want you to be trapped either. I guess that is as good of an answer I could expect. Anything you want to ask me?”

Tom stared at Molly. The air hung heavy. “Do you regret saying yes?”

“No. Do you regret asking?”

“No.”

Molly downed the rest of her juice. “Well then, it is all settled. I am going to take off to pack. And you have some shopping to do. My ring size is a 7.”

Tom finished up the last bite of pancakes. “Right. We need to leave here by 3 to make it to the airport.”

“I shouldn’t be more than a few hours. Do you have a key to the room I could borrow?”

Tom fished one out of his discarded jacket’s pocket. “Here I will have the front desk make me another one.”

She tapped the key against her nails. “Thanks, Tom. For the help and for being a decent guy.”

“I should be thanking you.”

“You already have.” She grabbed her purse and headed out the door.

Tom headed downstairs, asked the front desk for a new key to the room, and also inquired where the nearest jewelry store might be. The front clerk handed him a key and directed him to a small collection of luxury stores in the hotel. He found Tiffanys and purchased a classic platinum solitaire engagement ring and plain platinum band for Molly and a yellow gold band for himself.

Molly wasn’t back when he returned, so he set about packing up for the flight. His phone buzzed. Luke.

It appears you had a good time in Vegas. The papers say you are drowning your sorrows. Looks like the story is here to stay. Call me when you wake up from your nap at home.

Tom typed back.

I did have a good time. I have a feeling the papers will soon find another story soon. Still in Vegas, taking a later flight. Talk to you soon.

His phone rang. He clicked it off, seeing it was Luke. Rather to get all the yelling done in person. The door opened and Molly came in, dragging a suitcase behind.

“Sorry! My roommate had questions.”

“So does my publicist.”

Tom took in Molly for the first time, really. Outside of the light of a casino floor. And not in a wedding dress purchased for fifty dollars on the way to the chapel. She wore faded jeans, a pair of beat up black Converse and a boxy white tee tucked in. A large black cardigan tucked under her arm. Dark hair in a bun. Quite lovely, if Tom told the truth.

“Are you in some sort of trouble?” Her brows knitted together.

“Not yet.” Tom tucked his phone into his jean pocket. “Here.” He pulled out the little blue bag.

Molly gasped. “I thought you would go buy some costume jewelry. This is too much.”

“Nonsense. This marriage may be fake, but the jewelry will be real.” Tom opened up the boxes. “May I do the honors?”

Molly held out her hand, and Tom slipped off the plastic ring before replacing it with the wedding set. “Much better. And yours?”

Tom slapped the box into her hand. “Be careful with Clive.” Molly pursed her lips as she pulled off the spider ring and replaced it with the gold band, putting the plastic ring in the Tiffanys box. “Here you go. Clive’s new home.”

Tom tucked the box into his luggage. “Ready to go?”

Molly rocked back on her heels. “Yep.”

Tom held out his arm. “Let’s go home, Mrs. Hiddleston.”

The flight back was uneventful, Molly and Tom dozed off, leaning against each other for support. Molly woke up first. She stared down at her rings. This was not how she expected this weekend going. Molly thought she would scrap together enough tips to make an extra payment on her credit card. Not flying to London with a Tiffany diamond ring on her finger and a famous actor as her husband.

“Life does throw you curveballs from time to time.”

“What was that, darling?” Tom muttered, stretching in his seat.

“Just commenting on the craziness of all of this to myself.” She held out her hand again. Tom laced his fingers with hers.

“I have done the same thing myself. Now when we land, there will probably be paparazzi around. Are you up for getting this whole thing off and running?”

Molly perked up. “What do I need to do?”

Tom tightly gripped Molly’s hand throughout the concourse and baggage claim. They eyed the doors.

“Ready?” she asked, squeezing his hand.

“I promise to be gentle.” Tom squeezed back, smiling.

As they stepped through the doors, Tom flashed a killer smile and Molly did as well, giggling as his arm wrapped around her waist. He leaned over and pressed his lips to hers. Molly melted against him, making sure her rings were visible as she cupped his cheek. She was right, Tom was an excellent kisser. After making sure any photographers had plenty of time to snap a pic, they parted.

“Think they got my good side?” Molly giggled.

“Do you have a bad side?” Tom asked.

“Just wait and see. Now take me home, darling!” She threw her arm over her eyes dramatically.

“Drama queen.” Tom pinched her side.

Tom’s home was cozy and clean. Definitely a bachelor’s home, as evidenced by the empty fridge except for a few bottles of beer and some questionable brown sauce.

“I can go shopping later.” Tom dragged a toe along the kitchen floor.

“I can go shopping later.” She reached up and smacked his face playfully. “What kind of wife would I be if I didn’t feed my husband?”

“Fair point. I will call the bank tomorrow and get a card in your name. Just run any big purchases past me first. And we will need to get your name changed, passport, etc. I can have someone help you.” Tom prattled on.

“Why don’t you show me the rest of the place first?”

Tom held out his arm. “This way.”

Tom’s book collection was impressive along with his collection of movies.

“I clear some space if you need it.”

“I only packed clothes. My roommate is selling the rest, including my car and wiring me the money.”

“Oh.” Tom’s face fell. “Let me show you the bedrooms.”

He showed you a small guest room. “This could be an office for you and next door is a bigger bedroom for you.” Tom hustled along the hallway to open the next door. “Here.”

It was a bigger room with a queen bed and a wardrobe. Spare and clearly used for company.

“It will do just fine. And the bathroom is across the hall which is nice. Where’s your room?”

Tom made his way to the end of the hall and opened the door to his room, decorated in tones of grey and navy. A large king sized bed taking up most of the room along with a dresser. A bathroom en suite and a small closet completed the space.

“Very nice. Do you mind if I steal the color palette to decorate my room?”

“Please do. I never got around to decorate it. My sisters and mother are the only ones who stay in there.”

Molly paled a bit. She hadn’t thought about Tom’s family. “I supposed I will meet them soon.”

“I supposed so. It would be odd for my wife not to meet them. I hadn’t thought about it.”

Molly rocked back and forth. “Now why don’t I go shopping and you unpack and relax?”

“I would feel better if I came with you. You are in a different country, a strange city. And what if you have problems with the card?”

“Then let’s go and you can point out some of your favorite foods.”

“It’s a deal.”

“When I said pick out your favorite foods, I didn’t expect it to be only sweets. Did I marry a seven-year-old?”

“I’m 35, thank you. and I enjoy those sweets.”

“You eat like a college frat boy.”

“Guilty.”

“That is definitely changing now that I am around. You can’t continue to eat like that. There are things called vegetables.”

Tom snapped his fingers. “I’ve heard of those.”

“Get out of here!” Molly swatted at him. “I am certain you have things to attend to, and I need to familiarize myself with the kitchen.”

“Are you kicking me out of my kitchen?”

“Our kitchen. And yes.” Molly smirked.

“I yield! I yield. I’ll be in my study if you need me.” Tom walked out of the kitchen and towards his study.

He spied his phone sitting on the desk, still off from the flight. By now, any pictures should have been posted somewhere. Tom collapsed into his desk chair and clicked the phone on. While he waited for it to start up, he could overhear Molly puttering about in the kitchen, muttering to herself as she put away the groceries.

Buzz. Ten messages and eleven missed calls. He didn’t bother to listen to them and instead dialed Luke.

“Luke, I’m back in town. Thought I wou—” Tom started in as soon as Luke picked up.

“I WASN’T FUCKING SERIOUS WHEN I SAID TO GET MARRIED??! HAVE YOU LOST YOUR FUCKING MIND?!”

Tom pulled the phone away from his ear. “No, I haven’t. But I am married. To a wonderful girl. Her name is Molly. Molly Bishop. You should meet her, Luke.”

“YOU ARE FUCKING RIGHT I’LL MEET HER. AS SOON AS POSSIBLE! SHE CAN HELP IDENTIFY YOUR BODY, THOMAS!” Luke continued to scream on the phone.

“Can you dial back the volume, Luke? I would like to preserve my hearing. Is there something wrong with marrying the woman I love?”

Luke cleared his throat. Tom understood Luke was doing his best to collect himself. “Apologies. There is nothing wrong with marrying the woman you love, Tom. Nothing at all. Except I don’t think you love this woman, since until a few weeks ago you were in love with—”

“Don’t say her name, it will ruin my marital bliss. I’m a hopeless romantic, Luke.”

“Hopeless, yes. Romantic, the jury is still out. And your fans don’t count, they are blinded by you. But I see the truth.”

“Which is?”

“You are not as smart as you think you are.”

“Did any of the articles mention her?” Tom inquired, spinning his wedding band on his finger.

“No.”

“Then I am exactly as smart as I think I am.”

There was a clatter from the kitchen.

“Tom!” Molly called out. “I need your help.”

“Got to go, Luke. My wife needs my help.” Tom emphasized the word “wife.”

“This isn’t over, Tom.”

“It never is. Bye.”

More clattering and another cry. “Tom!”

Tom rushed into the kitchen to find Molly perched on top of the kitchen counter, reaching high into a cabinet.

“Why is everything so high in here?”

Tom chuckled and reached around her, pressing his torso against her back. Molly jumped for a moment at the touch.

“I’m not used to sharing my space. I’m six two, I put things where I can reach them. What are you grabbing?”

“The roasting pan.”

Tom pulled it down and placed it on the counter. His phone buzzed in his pocket. He ignored it.

“Thank you. Well, I am five six, so unless you want me climbing counters for the next year, we need to rearrange some things.”

“But you’re so cute climbing around like a little monkey.”

Molly frowned. “Is that supposed to be a compliment? If so, then try again.”

Tom opened his mouth and closed it. “I’ll pull things down after dinner.”

“Thank you.” She rubbed his arm. “Now to try my hand at a roast dinner. Did you get stuff done?”

His phone buzzed again.

“I called my publicist. The pictures posted.” Tom pulled out his phone to shut it off.

“Oh good. So I take it, I had the desired effect.” Molly crunched on a carrot and offered one to Tom, who wrinkled his nose.

The two of you. My office 8 a.m. tomorrow. No excuses. I want to meet the blushing bride.

Tom frowned at the screen.

“It would appear so. I suggest you go to bed early because you are meeting Luke, my publicist tomorrow.”

Molly’s mouth fell open. “Should I be worried?”

Tom smiled at her. “No, I should be.”

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston fluff #tom hiddleston x ofc #tom hiddleston angst #tom hiddleston smut #accidently married

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insomniacrobyn · 4 years ago

Text

Title: Stuck with me

Pairing: Zhongli x Reader

Reader: Gender neutral

A/N: i didn’t proof read this so. I started writing this earlier and I have finally finished it. Does it make sense? Hopefully. Any way enjoy my brain rot because I will be writing for Genshin content over the weekend hopefully.

It was a clear day in Liyue. It was the first good day in about a week. It was a nice break from the constant downpour. It was the perfect weather for commissions. (Y/N) walked up the familiar steps to the Liyue branch of the adventures guild. They greeted Lan who stood next to the notice board as they walked up to the counter. (Y/N) collected the four commissions which ranged from dealing with hilicurals to a ruin guard by Lingju Pass. These commissions weren’t new to them. They had done many commissions similar to these ones in the past. With a bit of pep to their step. (Y/N) crossed the bridge north of Liyue harbour.

(Y/N) breezed through the first three commissions. The only trouble was the final commission, where they had to deal with a ruin guard. They were exhausted from dealing with clearing two hilicural camps and defeating an abyss mage. The sun wasn’t helping either. The constant heat on their back made them uncomfortable and tired. Normally, (Y/N) would be able to defeat a ruin guard no problem giving it very little time to attack. However, this time it was getting attacks without much resistance from (Y/N).

The ruin guard had managed to corner them. It kept bringing its metal arms down on (Y/N)’s weapon. The sound of metal scraping and clunking overpowering the sounds of birds. (Y/N) knew that the only way out was to fight back if they wanted to get back to the harbour in one piece.

Zhongli had finished his work for the day in Wangsheng Funeral Parlor and was walking through the harbour. His amber eyes taking in all the people who were out and about. The soundtrack of the harbour being merchants calling out for people to come to their stall, and customers haggling in hopes of getting the product cheaper. However, Zhongli was focused on spotting one person in particular. His eyes scanned the crowd for the familiar form of his lover.

They had left before the birds had even started singing and when merchants were setting up for the busy day. Zhongli had woken up to their side of the bed empty and a note outlined why they weren’t there. This left Zhongli to go through his morning routine alone. The house felt empty to Zhongli. He was so used to their form next to him as he made tea and they made breakfast.

Zhongli returned home after walking around the city. He sat by the wide at the front of the house watching the people go by as he waited. He watched as the sky turned from a bright blue to a golden orange. He knew they could handle themselves but his nerves started to get him as he began to worry about his lover. They should be back by now, sitting across from him telling him about his day.

He eventually gave up on waiting and decided to head to the adventures guild to see what commissions they were given. He grabbed his polearm and briskly walked to the guild. Katheryne summarized what the commissions were and watched as Zhongli left the city.

He checked the first three locations and quickly checked to see if he could see them. He finally made his way to Lingju Pass. He looked over to the arch way next to the collapsed tower as that was noted as the area the ruin guard was. He looked down from the waypoint hoping to see if he could spot (Y/N).

He could see the ruin guard in question wandering around. Zhongli quickly made his way towards his polearm clutched in his hand. He noted the blood on the ruin guards arm. When Zhongli saw that his blood ran cold. Memories of all the friends he has lost over the thousand of years crossing his mind in a flurry of images.

He wasted no time and defeated the ruin guard with no mercy. Once the ruin guard disappeared, Zhongli started to search the area. Calling out (Y/N)‘a name as he looked.

He walked past an area of tall grass and barely noticed the person laying on the ground. Zhongli stopped and scanned the body. Dread flooded Zhongli’s senses as he knelt down beside them.

“(Y/N)” he whispered, his hand cupping their cheek as his amber eyes scanned their face. Zhongli examined their chest. He left out a sigh of relief as he saw their chest rise and fall slowly. “Please be okay.” Zhongli prayed as he quickly began making his way back to the harbour.

He rushed home once he entered the city. He paid no mind to the people that stared at the normally composed man as he rushed past with his lover in his arms.

Childe had spotted them. He sighed at the sight, he wasn’t used to seeing Zhongli in such a state. He knew he couldn’t do much to put the man's mind at ease so instead opted to get medical supplies from Bubu pharmacy and place them at his front door.

Zhongli discarded his coat and rolled up his sleeves after placing (Y/N) on the sofa. He took off their top to get easier to the deep gashes he saw that ran down their abdomen. He began to clean the wound with water and then cleaned it with rubbing alcohol. Their face scrunched up in pain. “I’m sorry love.” Zhongli whispered as he dressed the wound and started to work on the other ones.

By the time Zhongli had treated every wound he saw it was late into the night. He was sitting on the floor next to them. He had answered the door when Childe was dropping off the supplies. They were sitting on the table by the front door. Zhongli was holding one of their hands his gloves discarded. He rubbed soothing circles into the back of their hand. His mind was reeling with the worst case scenarios.

He brought their hand up to his lips as he got up from his spot. He headed to the kitchen to make some tea, unaware of the movement on the couch.

“Zhongli?” A voice called out. He spun on his heel making his way back to the sofa, the water still boiling on the stove. He kneeled in front of them his hand quickly grabbing theirs.

“My love, how do you feel? Are you hurting anywhere?” Zhongli quizzed as he cupped their cheek. “No I’m okay. How did I get back home though?” (Y/N) asked, their eyes darting around the room and landing on their weapon and bag which was tucked away in the corner of the room. It looked out of place there. Normally that kind of material was kept in the cupboard in the hall out of the way.

“I brought you home. I became quite concerned when you hadn’t returned home by dusk.” Zhongli answered, his amber eyes studying their face as their brow furrowed.

“Oh.”

“My love, please bring me next time you have to fight a ruin guard. You could have died if I hadn’t arrived.”

Zhongli watched their reaction quietly taking in the way their eyes darted to his at the end. He got up from his spot and motioned for them to wait there. He finished making the tea and came back with two cups and the teapot.

“Here. You must be thirsty after all the heat today would have made any dehydrated.” Zhongli hummed as he placed the delicate teacup in their hand after helping them to sit up. (Y/N) took it graciously as they sipped on the drink.

The couple sat in silence as (Y/N) rested their head on Zhongli’s shoulder. “I’m sorry I worried you.” (Y/N) announced breaking the silence that encased the room. Zhongli glanced at them from the corner of his eye.

“I’m happy that you are safe (Y/N). I don’t know what I would have done if something happened to you.” He replied staring out the window.

“Well, I’m afraid to tell you you are stuck with me for another while.” (Y/N) joked.

“I don’t think I would mind that at all. I quite enjoy your company.” Zhongli smiled. They laughed and gave Zhongli a kiss on the cheek.

“I think love that I deserve more than that especially after the worry you gave me.” Zhongli teased as he leaned towards the kiss them. (Y/N) just smiled closing the gap with a sweet kiss.

“I suppose you do.” They teased back as they leaned against his shoulder. Zhongli’s hand now wrapped around their waist protectively. He hummed and placed a kiss on the crown of their head. Then resting his cheek on their head as he let his eyes close.

The bliss of the moment reminded Zhongli why he gave up his gnosis. If he hadn’t he would more than likely not be able to enjoy the comfort he felt at this moment, knowing his lover was returned to him. Injured but by his side where he could watch them and keep them out of harms way.

#genshin zhongli #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin zhongli x reader #zhongli x reader #zhongli #genshin impact imagines

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your-local-grinning-cat · 6 months ago

Note

Dude I’m still new to the test tumblr rp scene as @koebi-san but man- I’m sorry y’all gotta deal with that

Tbh I feel kind of bad. I know it probably doesn’t come off as that. Considering how much I went off on them, but I do.

And it’s not that I feel bad for revealing her as the terrible person she is. Because she deserves that and she obviously doesn’t care because I happen to know she is still using her accounts like nothing has happened. Even messaging some of the blogs of mods from the discord she was banned from to ask if she can roleplay with them - like they weren’t present and aren’t fully aware of the situation and who she is.

It’s more I feel bad that I’m causing drama in the twst rp community? Because I really do just want to have fun and rp Che’nya.

But this mod was really making it not fun for me and several others. If it was just me, I could have kept ignoring them, honestly. I didn’t interact with them enough for me to do all this.

Yes, I hated they were over-saturating the twst rp community with their blogs (them having 11 is absolutely ridiculous) but I could just leave it. Whatever. They weren’t making characters connected to Che’nya. But they were stressing out and hurting my friends.

And so I finally just… snapped.

And I’m hoping making such a big deal out of this - making such a loud noise, such a huge callout - will just make sure that this drama both starts and ENDS quickly.

I just want to go back to having fun with all of you roleplaying the mad eldritch horror, self-aware Cheshire Cat that gets his head stuck in teapots and bends reality to his will… but only sometimes because other times it’s funnier not to.

So, I’m hoping now that me and the others that joined in finally broke down and made the callout post about her, we can get back to that sooner rather than later.

But thank you for your kind words. It is what it is. It’s the internet! Toxic people are kind of par for the course.

I’m just happy that, for the most part? I’ve really only had great experiences on here as Che’nya. 💜

#I’ve blocked her multiple accounts too - though I know those aren’t her main just like this isn’t my main #so that can only go so far if she really wants to look me up since I only have the one rp blog #also me having the ONE rp blog is part of the reason why her having ELEVEN ticked me off so much #well that and the fact that she is so bad at them all #she roleplays basically all of them the same and then can’t keep track of them too #so you would have jack commenting as malleus and epel’s grandma commenting as malleus’s mom #it was a mess #I will say she managed to make Marja not a bitch as far as I know so HEY! look at that she DOES have other settings!#*sighs*#thank you for your well wishes though!#💜💜💜#I was expecting more hate for adding drama and so far people have been super supportive and I’m so thankful #the twst rp community is generally so great #twst rp #ar speaks #ar speaks ooc

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dragon-kazansky · 3 years ago

Text

Til death do us part | Helmut Zemo

Bodyguard AU! 🕶

Gender neutral reader

Collage by @realremyd

Here's the part where I stir up trouble because it's me and you know this by now.

Warnings: Mentions of threats, death, and suicide. I'm sorry if that's triggering. It's just mentioned.

[Previous chapter] - [Next chapter]

Part 11

You hadn't returned to the Baron again last night, and he hadn't called for you either. You managed to avoid him for the rest of the day.

Today, however, was a new day, and you couldn't keep avoiding him. You put on your stoic face, kept your mind on the job, and made your way up to his office.

At breakfast you had been joined by Natasha and Clint down in the kitchen. It was clear bt the way Clint was looking at you that Natasha had brought him into the loop.

"Why did you tell him?"

"I didn't. He has eyes, too. He can see it just as clearly as anyone," she states.

Clint grins.

You glare at him.

Clint just shrugged and agreed with her. He was the only one to tell you anything alone these lines:

"I think you should open up to him. Sure, you didn't get off on the right foot, but I think he likes you. Really. Maybe give him a chance?"

You chose to ignore that statement and get on with your work. If no one else was going to take their job seriously, then you had to be extra serious for them.

His life was still in danger.

You knock on the door, taking a deep breath as you waited for his reaponce. It cane moments later.

"Enter."

If only his voice didn't send shivers down your spine everytime you heard it.

You enter his office, barely looking at him, and make your way over to where you normally stand. However, you had noticed the way his desk was organised.

Much like yesterday, there was a tea set on a tray. It was a different set to yesterday's. These cups were a pale green and each one a a small pink rose painted on either side of the cup. The teapot had a dozen little roses around the top where the lid sat.

It was a pretty set. Once again, simple, but classy.

He poured two cups again.

"Please, join me," he spoke softly.

You did not want a repeat of yesterday. You remained standing.

Noticing that you hadn't made a move, he gazes up at you with gentle brown eyes. His lips are pulled into a soft smile.

You knew you shouldn't have looked at him, but now it was too late. Those dark eyes are luring you in, and don't forget that smile.

Why did you suddenly want to kiss him?

You swallow thickly, keeping eye contact with him as he continues to look at you with a smile.

"Please."

The way he speaks is so soft. He very clearly wanted you to join him. You hesitate.

"I'm on duty, sir."

"I want you to join me."

You look at the empty seat across from him. The tea would get cold if you didn't join him. Right, yeah, that's why you're going to sit down with him, you didn't want the tea to get cold.

You move over to the chair and take a seat, not looking at the way he was smiling at you now.

A plate of cupcakes sits between you. He takes one.

You look at the sight. Seeing the Baron with his dainty tea set, a cupcake, and a bright expression on his face, he looked so happy and relaxed.

You rather liked this side to the Baron.

You pick up the cup and sip from it. Another delicious tea from his collection. You won't mention how you knew he had a collection of different flavoured tea in a box downstairs in the kitchen.

You smiled at the thought of it though.

It made you feel like you had discovered something about him. A little thing he likes that he doesn't share with anyone else.

Except you, of course.

"How many tea sets do you have?" You ask, now forgetting all about that professional head you had tried to put on earlier. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to humour him.

He smiles widely at you.

"I have six as it stands. I do like to look at others, but I only get the ones that really catch my eye."

You have no idea what was going on with Helmut. The man was beyond pleased. You had initiated a conversation with him. You wanted to talk to him. He couldn't believe it. Perhaps he hadn't offended you as much as he thought after all.

Now, he just had to keep you talking.

"Six? Goodness. Do you use them all?"

"Yes. I switch between them," he grins.

"I'd like to see the others."

"All in due time."

You smile softly.

His heart could literally beat out of his chest right now. He made you smile, and you weren't even trying to hide it.

Feeling a little more willing to be less... stuck up, you reach out and grab one of the cakes.

This pleases him further.

You both eat the cakes and drink the tea. You let yourself smile openly around him.

You were accept he wanted to spend time with you. You wondered if he would indulge you in some information.

"May I ask you something?"

He looks at you with a big gentle eyes. His lips curl in the smallest of smiles.

"Of course."

You put down your nearly empty tea cup and sit up straighter.

"Will you tell me about the group who are after you?"

His smile fades. He hadn't expected that question. To be honest he wanted to keep them as far from mind as possible, but he supposed he did owe you an explanation after everything you had been through.

"They call themselves The Agent Association. John Walker founded it when I retired from the army. He is part of the reason Sokovia has been suffering, when he brought his little gang here to try and recruit me."

"Recruit you? What did he want you for?"

"I have many skills under my belt. I believe he wanted to use me."

"And you turned him down?"

"Yes. I had just left the military. I was ready to return home and settle down. He didn't like that," Helmut's voice became sad. Something struck you and you realised that this went so much deeper than just that.

"What happened? What did he do?"

Helmut looks at you. During the next few moments of silence he was debating on if he should share everything with you. He trusted you, it more came down to if he could bring himself to tell you what happened.

"Baron?"

He wants to tell you. He wants to share what happened to him with you. The reason he had been so cold before you came along.

"There was a woman. She was beautiful. I fell in love rather quickly with her, and she promised to wait for me. He promised I would marry her upon my return and we would live here together. I didn't know she knew Walker. As it turned out, he was in love with her too."

You were suddenly felt with dread.

"Helmut?"

That was it. That was the first time you had used his name. He stared at you, caught off-guard by the way it sounded from your lips.

You hadn't seemed to notice what you had done. Clearly you had been so comfortable with him, you had just let it slip.

He gathers himself.

"Heike. That was her name. She wasn't here when I got home. Three days and no word. I had feared she had chosen him over me, but it was a week later when I heard what had happened."

You felt uncomfortable.

"Heike had passed away. Her family hadn't known I was home, so that's why I hadn't heard anything yet. I was devastated. Two days of being locked away here in mourning with a broken heart, Walker showed up. He broke down my door, he marched up to my room, and then he proceeded to attempt to kill me."

You stare wide eyed, lips parted, mind blank.

"Walker thought I was fine reason she was dead. That she couldn't take choosing and ended her life. I wanted him to kill me. I wanted to be with her in death. He didn't do it. He dropped me and left. I didn't hear from him in years, but one day he shows up with his agents. He wanted to prove to me he had power and influence. Sokovia began to decline and it was because of him."

Helmut had taken notice of how you were leaning forward, listening intensely.

"He's trying to kill you because he thinks Heike killed herself over you?" You ask, whispering softly.

He nods.

"That's awful."

You get up and walk to his side. You place a hand on his shoulder and let it rest there.

"It wasn't your fault."

He turns his head to where he sees your hand. He looks at it. Your touch feels warm, even through his blazer.

"Wasn't it?"

"Of course it wasn't... or are you saying it was?" You ask, softly.

He shakes his head.

"I don't know. What if she had?"

"Do you want my honest opinion?" You ask, looking at him seriously.

"Please."

You kneel down beside him, hand still settled on his shoulder. You meet his eyes with your own.

"If she had ended her own life, I don't think it was over you. By the sounds of it, she was in love with you. She promised to wait."

"Then what do you think happened?"

"Walker. He's trying to kill you, very nearly had twice at this point. Maybe this goes deeper than you think. You're taking it from his word and not your own investigation. Considering all that happened, he isn't a wise form of information."

Helmut places a hand over yours and looks you in the eye. He swallows, letting your words sink in. Your kindness toward him is enough to spur enough confidence in him.

He brings your hand to his lips and kisses your knuckle gently.

He doesn't miss the shocked expression on your face. Startled, you take your hand back and stand up, but you don't walk away.

Already, he misses your touch.

He's not sorry for what he did, even if your reaction hurt him a little.

"Walker will not bring you harm. As your bodyguard I vow to protect you and see this through. I will not stop until Walker is stopped too."

Helmut looks at you with so much longing. His heart feels full. He smiles.

And I vow to protect you. I will not let him hurt you too. Walker will not hurt the people I love again.

He just can't bring himself to say it out loud.

Zemo no longer cares if it's your duty to protect him. He will not let you get hurt by the hands of Walker again.

When the time comes, the Baron will rest and the Colonol will come out to play.

I promise.

@thesuitkovian @justfangirlthingies @belle82devart @zemosimp420 @anteroom-of-death @silverlambcaptain @that-stupid-head-tilt-thing @lieutenantn @daniielbruhl @awesomesauce-abbie @latenightartist-author @lazygurl05 @rumblelibrary @nonamec0s @shura-gorl @ginger-abreu @caligrl1992 @livvyshmiv @luciadiosa @vverliebt @tatooineisdry @charistory @somethingthatsaysbubbles @apparrio @alex-the-nb @thewrongkhristol @hb8301 @the-chaotic-cow @mssennimatilda @uncomfortablebagel @fictionlandslanddreams

#marvel #zemo x reader #helmut zemo x reader #helmut zemo #au #baron helmut zemo #zemo #bodyguard au

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writingsbychlo · 4 years ago

Text

home for christmas | mitch rapp

word count; 10,665

summary; mitch is happy to settle down with the simple life, and he just wants to celebrate christmas with his fiancée, for the first christmas he’s had home since before he joined the army.

notes; I know this isn’t stan’s farmhouse in the movies, but this is the kind of farmhouse I picture them having, so you’re just gonna’ have to use your imaginations!

warnings; smut, thats about it.

“Mornin’, soldier.”

Mitch simply huffed, a smirk forming on his face as he rolled over, raising his brows a little, sleep still evident across his face, the crease from a pillow being pressed into his cheek, the red mark disappearing into the dark stubble-smattering on his jaw, and you reached out a hand, rubbing over it as he blinked himself a little further awake. “Not anymore, sweetheart. You think if I was still a soldier I’d be getting to sleep in this late with a pretty woman by my side?”

“I should hope not, you were with me for the most part, so if you had another pretty woman in your bed, you should fess up now. I��d hate for that to come out on the altar.”

He growled, rolling you over until you were pressed back into the bedding, nipping a little at your shoulder as you broke out in a fit of giggles, albeit strained as the weight of his frame pressed into you, 200lb of solid muscle crushing you lovingly. “Don’t even insinuate it.”

“Yeah, I know.” You mumbled, a hand threading into his hair, and the teasing nips became soft kisses pressed to your bare skin, and he eventually gave up, rolling onto his side, and letting you cuddle up into his side a little, exhaustion no longer claiming either of you, but laziness in the bliss of the morning was. “Merry Christmas, Mitch.”

“Merry Boxing Day.”

“Technicalities.” You whispered, pecking at his cheek, the closest spot you could reach, before you were pushing yourself to it up a little more, legs crossing on the mattress, and stretching your arms up above your head to loosen the muscles.

“What was that?”

“What was what?” You repeated, head rolling from side to side, before you were shaking yourself down slightly and revelling in the numbness slipping out of your bones and muscles as energy surged through you instead.

“That pathetic excuse for a good morning kiss.” He tapped at his lips, pouting them slightly, brows raising as he watched you move to press your feet to the cold floors, standing up only a moment later. “Where do you think you’re going? Get back here and kiss me!”

“Nope. If you want kisses, you can come and get them.”

He gaped, watching you disappear into the bathroom, and you ginned to yourself, hearing the floorboards of the bedroom creak from a room over, running your toothbrush under the tap as you squeezed a dollop of the paste onto the bristles, raising your eyebrows at the man behind you. He had braced himself on either side of the doorframe, large shoulders and tall stature all but filling it, messy bedhead and unshaven jaw making him a vision of morning laziness, and he raised his brows at you as he returned your stare, a smile on his face as you scrubbed at your teeth.

Pacing across the bathroom, he pressed you up against the counter from behind, hands finding the edges of the sink as your hips pushed up to the cold porcelain, and he hooked a chin over your shoulder. One hand came up, on the other side of your jaw, twisting your face towards him, and you lifted your brush down long enough to press your lips against his, hearing him hum happily finally got what he was after. Your lips moved softly against his, a slight foam build-up getting stuck in his stubble as your mouths worked together, but neither of you could find it within yourselves to care, the first kiss of the day still feeling just as special as it had the first night you’d stayed a night together, all those years ago.

When he pulled back, he licked at his lips, wiping away the froth stuck on the spiky hairs around his face, grinning a little, and pecking a kiss to your temple. “You taste minty.”

“Of’ious’y.” You mumbled, the word getting confused in translation through the workings you were doing, but he raised his brows at the sass, gasping slightly, and you grinned, spitting and rinsing, before turning to look at him “Captain Obvious over here.”

“You’re sassy this morning.” He teased, pinching at your ass and snickering as you yelped, smacking away his hand and fixing him with a false glare. “Don’t be so sassy on Christmas.”

“I thought it was Boxing Day?” You retorted, watching him roll his eyes fondly, and as you wandered back into the bedroom, you noticed that he’d made the bed, blankets pulled straight, and you appreciated the gesture

“It’s our Christmas Day. Is that really what your Christmases were like these last few years?” His hand found yours from the second you had a jumper pulled on over your shoulders, tugging you toward the staircase and down the rickety steps that were in urgent need of repair, but those weren’t on the list yet.

So far, the two of you had made some pretty grand progress on the house that you were now calling your own. Your father had returned to duty, and you were in charge of renovating an old farmhouse, and making it truly liveable once again. The broken pipes, squeaky doors and splintering panels were no longer cutting it, and in the couple of short months since your lover had returned from the front lines, and stayed here with you.

The first week after your father had left, had been entirely spent in bed, properly celebrating the engagement you’d made, the way it should be celebrated when you were young and in love. The following month and a half leading you up to where you were now had been spent planning, clearing out the junk of old furniture and stripping the insides of the house, all the work you couldn't do alone, finding yourself now with a partner.

The porch was being extended into a wrap-around, and the outside had been stripped. The flaking paint had been sanded off, the wood underneath smoothed and repainted, before the weather had turned too cold and wet, glazed over and perfected, an off-white colour that complimented the darks of the landscape around it. Mitch had spent almost a week straight fixing broken and cracking tiles on the roof, a week when your heart had leapt into your throat every time he went up the ladder, fearing that he’d fall or injure himself, and yet the real injured had come inside.

As the final fall warmth had slipped away and the bitter and biting cold had started to come in, you’d thrown out all the moth-bitten and broken furniture inside, plans to replace it all, and sell what you deemed worthy, raising funds for the major project you’d undertaken. Splinters, torn nails, and grazes from tripping over and scraping your knees and elbows on rough flooring. However, it had all been worth it, and you shivered a little as you stepped into the kitchen, feeling the squeeze on your hand, before looking up to the man standing behind you.

“Sorry, I got lost in my thoughts. What dd you say?”

“I said, is this how you always spent your Christmases for these last few years?” The sounds of the kettle filling up as it sat on the top of the old gas stove sounded the metal clanging a little as it filled, the two of you waiting patiently over the racket, before settling it over the flame to begin heating. “Y’know, celebrating late, the video calls, all that?”

He was referring to the real Christmas Day, yesterday, having been spent waiting for the time when you’d get to talk to your father over a somewhat glitchy video chat call for your twenty-minute slot, having no idea when it would actually be. “Yeah, pretty much. Except, for the last few years, I had to do it twice.” You poked at his stomach as he stood before you, a grin on his lips, before he was catching your hand, pulling it up to press a kiss over the ring shining on your finger.

“Funny, to think that for years, I’ve been excitedly waiting to facetime my superior’s daughter, just to get a Merry Christmas and a kiss through the screen while I was out in the middle of God knows where, defending our country, and we never even knew.” His arms looped your waist, pulling you in close against the cold of the late December chill in the air, and your own arms wrapped around his neck. You leaned in, enough that he thought you were going to press a kiss to his lips, before you were lifting yourself up, and standing on his feet, grinning when he grunted, before he was looking at your curiously. “What’cha doing, kitten?”

“The floor is cold. I don’t want to stand on it.”

“Well, it would be considerably less cold if someone had just picked which tiles they wanted before the store closed over Christmas, I could be getting on with installing them, and we would’ve had heated kitchen flooring by New Years.” He tutted, lifting you to sit on the counter as the kettle began to whistle, and he worked around you to fill up the teapot on the side with the perfect brew, two mugs being gathered from one of the cupboards, before it was being pressed into your hands.

“I wanted real stone! All the samples of tiles just didn’t seem right, and-”

“And you want to have a rustic and authentic farmhouse feel, I know.” He finished your sentence for you, heat flushing your face at just how many times you must’ve said it for I’m to have memorised the statement, and he chuckled, letting you hope down and back onto the cold and stripped flooring of the kitchen to make your way to the table. The scraping of the wooden chairs over the flooring rang out, and you sat in beside him, blowing the steam away, and picking up one of the catalogues that were stacked up, opening it up to the last dog-eared page and taking a look at it all. “What do you want for breakfast?”

Despite asking the question, Mitch was already rattling around in the drawers for a frying pan, seeming to have made up his mind on what he was going to eat, and so you hummed a little, sipping at the herbal mix in your mug. “Whatever you’re having is fine.”

“Eggs and bacon it is, then.”

You only nodded, unsure whether or not he could see you, but you weren’t looking at him, falling into a comfortable science together as you examined the conversions and extensions laid out on the glossy pages before you. The sizzling and popping of the eggs and bacon faded into the background, ideas swirling in your mind as he worked, the cogs brushing off the dust as you took in what you were seeing.

Most of them were small conversations, sheds and garages, all with ideas on how to save heating and conserve energy, but your mind was wandering your own home. You’d already done so much, knocking through the wall of the small guest bedroom beside your own to turn it into a closet, and tearing up the flooring in the downstairs of the house, to replace it with newer and polished solid oak slats. How much harder could be building a wall, and converting something a little bigger than a shed?

A plate landed in front of you, making you jump in shock, before the magazine was being pulled away from you, and the smell of the meal was enticing you in. “Should I be concerned that you spend more time looking at renovation magazines than wedding ones?”

He was smiling as he spoke, no heat to his words, but you scoffed nonetheless, tapping your finger against another pile of magazines, and you felt as though your entire house was spilling over with them, filling the house in piles from top to bottom. You had more magazines than yo id furniture at this stage, the small and slightly dull Christmas tree in the corner being a sad excuse, an old TV propped up on cardboard boxes and cushions along the floor with a blanket put down, the rest of your ‘living room; being barren, waiting for its decorating to be complete.

“Have you even chosen a dress, yet? I already have my suit.”

“I’m excited to marry you, Mitch, I really am. I couldn't imagine anything that would make me happier, but that is one day of our lives. The best day, but just one day. This house is where we’re going to live, it’s the future you want, and where we’ll grow old. If something goes wrong on our wedding day, that sucks, but we’ll fix it.” He paused his chewing, staring at you with wide eyes across the table, before swallowing his mouthful thickly and reaching out with one hand to lace your fingers together to sit atop the wood. “I want our home to be perfect.”

“It will be, we’ll take our time.”

You smiled, letting him mirror the action, squeezing his hand in your own, before pulling your hand back to pick up your cutlery, and beginning into the meal he had made. “For the record, I have a few dress ideas.” You tapped the cover of one of the furthest magazines from yourself, the pages worn and folded, evidently having been used, and his brows shut up, a grin on his face as he ate.

“Can I see?” A few crumbs flew from his mouth as he spoke through the food stuffed between his cheeks, and you tried to hold in your chuckle at the sight.

“Please don’t do that at our wedding.” You grimaced, and he swallowed his mouthful, sticking his tongue out at you childishly, the playful manner between you both being more than comfortable, it was perfect, and you kicked at his shin under the table as he wiggled his brows cheekily. “No, you can’t look at them, it’s bad luck.”

“Don’t be superstitious.” He scoffed, pulling the magazine over to himself, and holding it out of your reach when you leaned across the table to snatch it back. “Besides, it’s bad luck to see the bride in the dress before the day, not to see some random model in a dress.”

“Yeah, well, don’t you want it to be a surprise?”

His eyes flicked down, smirking a little at the swell of your breasts hanging from the robe your wore that was falling open the more you reached to get the brochure back, and you gave up on that tactic, rounding the table instead to try and grab it from him. He scooted back, the chair legs scraping against the bare concrete floor, a loud laugh on his lips to match the giggles you were letting out as the war became a game.

“Mitch! If you keep this up, I’ll purposefully buy a really awful dress! Something from the eighteen hundreds with frills and layers, and I’ll look like Little Bo Peep!”

“Baby, I’d marry you even if you were wearing a potato sack.” As you reached for the folds of paper, he snatched your wrist in his other hand, tugging you into him until you were perched across his lap, a leg dangling on either side of his on the chair, and he wrapped that same arm around your waist, connecting them behind your back to hold you securely, and your own looped his neck. “But, please don’t wear something with frills and layers and a thousand buttons, because it’ll make it way harder to have our first dance if I can barely reach you over a puffy gown.”

“I’ll wear something a little bit more modern, then. I’d hate to miss our first dance.”

You brushed the tip of your nose against his, lips brushing together as he smiled, and you heard the magazine drop away to the ground, before both hands were splaying out over your back, and pushing you closer, until your chest was pressed to his, and you were looking down at him, sharing a breath. “Besides, kitten, don’t you think you should wear something that I’ll be able to get you out of easily when we get to be alone, afterwards?”

“Well, I think I should get something cheap, because I have a feeling you’re going to rip it.”

He growled under his breath, catching your lip with his teeth and tugging gently, before pressing a kiss to the edge of your mouth, hands moving down to sit on your ass, as he pressed another kiss to your jaw, and then your cheek. “Don’t tempt me.”

“Not tempting, I just know you too well. If previous experience in pretty gowns is anything to go on.”

He chuckled, nodding his head, before wrapping his arms around you fully, face resting in your neck as he settled in to hug you, prompting you to squeeze yourself a little more firmly around him in response, a hand coming up to brush through the long and messy tendrils of hair on his head. “I love you.”

“Love you too, Mitch.”

Your food was growing cold, half-eaten and still sitting out, but you were much more invested in soaking up every second of the loving embrace he was offering you, and so you were more than happy to remain this way, wrapped up in his arms, for as long as he would take it.

The time slipped by, mumbled conversations taking place, and the hands on the clock ticking over the o’clock marker and beginning the afternoon, the late lay in that the two of you had indulged in giving a glorious delay to the day. Lazy and relaxed, it was exactly how you wanted to spend your late-Christmas, and when he finally shifted to check the clock himself, he merely huffed, the hot breath fanning over your neck and making you twitch a little as it tickled, and he loosened his hold on you to let you go.

“Do you still want to have a Christmas lunch? I can set everything off, but it’ll be more like dinner with this timing.”

“I think it’ll be fun to have it later, we can eat while watching movies. We can drag all the blankets and cushion we still have down onto the floors and make it cosy.” He merely nodded, before standing with you still in his arms, stealing a final kiss from your lips as you giggled, the grip on your thighs loosening as you sank to the ground, finding him now looking down at you, lips pressing to your forehead once he let you go. “Go light the fire in the living room, it’s a little cooler today. We should get the heating going earlier.”

“You got it, soldier.”

He smiled bashfully, nudging you towards the empty doorway, knocked through to make it all more open plan, and you could feel his eyes still lingering on you a little as you wandered through to the main room. Settling before the cold fireplace in a comfortable position, you assessed what you were seeing before you, noting that it was filled with old ash, days having passed since the two of you had emptied it. Dragging out the collecting tray underneath, you tipped it into the bucket, the edges stained, trying not to let the dust escape into the room too much, and tipping it carefully so that it didn’t cloud in the air.

While the house did have heating, it had all been disassembled and the heaters taken from the walls for the renovations, the two of you seeming to have missed that when planning your work to take place inside over the Christmas period, leaving the house cold unless you lit the fire.

When the grates were clear once again, You began to scrunch up the pages of the old newspapers and letters that were no longer in use, creating a range of tight and loose balls of paper form them, and beginning to stack them in the fire. Small kindling followed, twigs and little chunks of wood, coal to follow, to keep the heat going for longer, burning quietly. It didn’t take much longer of patting around yourself and searching to find the matches, the almost empty box being revealed to you, and with a single strike, a flame was taking up at the end, and you buried it within the pile. The newspapers took a light quickly, flames roaring up within seconds as they burned brightly, the paper becoming ash after only a minute or two, but it had been long enough for the smaller wood to catch.

The flames were duller, but the heat was already beginning to pour off of the fireplace as the smaller wood caught fire, crackling a little as it went, the black chunks of coal starting to smoke slightly, turning ashy grey where flames touched, and there was no way it would go out now. Adding some logs on top for a longer burn and more enjoyable smell, you deemed it a job well done, wiping your hands clean on the rag hanging beside the fireplace, and placing the grate over the front, hauling yourself up to stand.

Eyes closing in on the ash bucket, you were tempted to leave it there, but foreseeing the accident of tripping over it and spending house cleaning up ash was more than enough to motivate you, the images flashing behind your lids when you closed them. Mitch was tinkering in the kitchen, the dull clashes of pots and pans, the sink occasionally switching on and off, hearing him shuffle around and chop as he prepared you both a meal, and you moved across the room, swapping your robe out for one of his hoodies and a coat to combat the cold air.

Grabbing the bucket and taking it with you, a shiver ran down your spine at the cold air that swept over you from the second that you stepped out and onto the porch, the swing bench squeaking as it rocked in the slight breeze, and you looked around for a pair of boots. Tugging on wellies for the trek through the slippery mud and frosty grasses to the compost pile at the end of the first field, you set off towards it, arms tightly wrapped to your body to seal out the heat.

A short walk all things considered, but it felt like miles in the biting cold, and your fingers were trembling against the cold metal of the bucket as you tipped it all out, stomping it down a little with your foot and covering the dry dust over so that it wouldn't blow away all over the place, knowing just how good it all was for the fields.

The two of you hadn't quite decided what you wanted to do with the land yet, but you still had plenty of time to make up your minds. Mitch wanted to go for the full traditional farm life, with animals and agriculture and the whole shebang. You wanted to take a more modern turn, with pretty gardens and orchards, maybe grow fruits and vegetables, something simpler but not requiring the work that potatoes and pigs would take. After all, it was just the two of you, right now. That little collection of books and leaflets was still sitting unopened, the two of you having agreed to leave that decision until after your house was finished, and everything else was settled, instead of burdening yourselves with too much at once.

As you made your way back, you took in everything around you. While the area may look a little barren and empty right now, you had big plans for it all, the house being the main feature, standing out like a sore thumb as it looked beautiful and prominent with all it’s redecorating in opposition to the abandoned and somewhat desolate landscape around it, even the barn still needing redoing.

Placing to bucket down on the edge of the porch, you spun, hands tucked into your pockets as you considered the tall wooden structure.

It hadn't been used much since your grandparents had owned the farm and all of the land around it, keeping it traditional, back when there had been a tractor and plough that would park inside with hay bales and spare supplies, all of which would contribute or the farm, but had eventually broken or been sued up, never replaced. You could barely remember what it was like inside now, not having been in there since you were a child, your father telling you all about how he’d play and hide in here when he was a child, but your memory was fuzzy.

As you approached it, you found chains locked tightly through the weakened handles on the chipping wood, a large coded padlock keeping them closed, and you smirked to yourself a little, lifting the freezing metal up to examine it. The numbers were almost worn away, yet still just enough visible for you to work with, and you tried your birthday on it, finding that the lock didn’t budge. Your birthday had always been your father’s passcodes and passwords, a fact you’d discovered when you were twelve and never told him about, so you had unimpeded access to everything, but clearly not this.

Despite your peaked curiosity, you had almost given up, before remembering that this was your grandparents’ barn, and likely still had their code on it unchanged from when they realised their son was going into the army, and wouldn't run their farm. Trying your dad’s birthday, the lock popped loose, enabling you to untangle the chains and leave them hanging open as a muffled ‘aha!’ fell from you. The doors were heavy as you pulled on them, large wooden frames that were stiff from years of disuse. The hinges were rusted, and so you were just about able to get one open enough to slip inside, the musty smell of farms and equipment overwhelming your senses, bringing back memories you didn’t know you had forgotten from when you were a child.

There was lighting, but you didn’t think it would still work, flicking your hand over the switch, and as expected, they didn’t light up. The stairs were damaged, floor was strewn with old hay and broken equipment, useless bits of equipment, and you could see just enough of it all from the gaps in the wood that served as windows. It was large, even larger than you’d remembered, the wooden framework appearing smaller on the outside than it was on the inside, and the pipes along the walls were broken.

Following the trail along, they met at a sink in the corner of one room, a large bathtub that was caked in mud, and you assumed that it had always been the place where your grandparents would wash up after a hard day’s work, before going back up to the little farmhouse, as not to trail mud through the home. The wood of the walls rattled slightly, doing nothing to keep out the cold as some wood even began to give way, looking as though it was in desperate need of repair, but a little TLC would go a long way into transforming the space.

Upstairs was far more exciting, or it had been, when you were younger. The balcony overlooked the lower floor, a higher platform where the centre missing to look down on the main floor, and you’d loved to play hide and seek up here when you were barely above hip-height on your father, feeling like an adventure just for going up the steps. The bannisters and barricades were snapped and broken now, years of misfortune taking them, but it was a simple fix. The space would be infinitely better once all the leftover crap had been hauled out of it, and it was stripped bare for renovations.

You were wound up in your thoughts, jumping a little as the main door scraped some more, your lover squeezing his way inside, looking around the lower floor, before dragging his gaze up to find you at the top of the steps. A warm coat wrapped around him, feet shoved into wellies like your own, pyjamas pants ruffled from the action and he looked adorable, a grin taking over his face as he looked at you.

“Thought you’d be up in your closet sorting out our clothes and keeping warm, or something. Didn’t expect to have to hunt you down in a barn when the temperatures are dipping so low.”

“It’s freezing out here, right? There’s absolutely no insulation in here.” He chuckled, unsure of where that statement was going but watching as you came darting down the steps, and meeting you halfway, producing a hand from his pocket to take your own, fingers weaving together, before he was hiding them both back in the warmth it had once been, holding you tight to his side and following your gaze to look around. “It would be better, with some insulation and panelling.”

“Much better, I agree.”

“If we did it up real nice, painted it like the main house, it’d make a pretty great living space, don’t you think?” He hummed, eyes narrowing as he looked around, clearly not seeing the same thing you are but not wanting to voice it, and you grinned, the hand that wasn’t joined with his and tucked in his pocket waving in front of yourselves. “It has a water supply, so there could be a kitchen and bathroom down here, in the far corner, and some couches. A TV set up, a little coffee table, a whole load of nice rugs to keep the floors warm. Upstairs, a bed, and all the storage, a simple but effective living space.”

“I guess so, but we don’t really need it.”

“Of course, we don’t.” You bumped your shoulder against his, and he lifted his arm up, keeping his hand held with yours but letting you snuggle under his arm, instead, drawn close to his body for warmth. “But, it would be great for dad. He’s not home a lot, but it would be a great place for him to know he can come back to when he’s not on deployment, and inevitably retire to.”

A warm laugh bubbled up beside you, the man shaking a little as the sound rumbled from him, and you turned to face him, quirking a brow. “We’re kicking your dad out of the farmhouse, now? He’s not gonna’ like that.”

“Yeah, well, we’re going to need privacy when he’s home.” You poked his side lightly, watching a cheeky expression filter over his features as he stared out at the barn, cogs working inside his mind as he began to picture it like you were, and you turned to look at it all yourself, mentally constructing the perfect home for your father. “Besides, his room and the guest rooms might want to be something else, someday.”

You heard his breathing hitch, his gaze locking not you, and two fingers hooking under your chin to turn your gaze back to him. He choked down the lump in his throat, seeming a little nervous, nibbling on his lower lip before finding the words. “Do you mean as, like, baby rooms? Nurseries and kids rooms?”

“Yeah, I do.”

He let out a shaky laugh, sniffling a little as tears lined his eyes, your brows furrowing as you twisted to face him, bringing your hands up to his cheeks and cupping them, using your thumb to wipe away the first tear that fell. “We’re going to have our own little family? I get to have that, with you?”

“Oh, ‘course you do, honey.” His vulnerability was making you emotional yourself, tears burning in your eyes at the bright expression on his face, and he pressed a series of needy and quick kisses to your lips, between short gasps of breath, wet cheeks and lashes sticking together as he did, unable to contain his smile.

“I’ve always wanted kids, my own family, to be a dad.”

“I know.” You whispered, fingers stroking delicately over his skin as he still trembled a little under your touch. “You okay?”

“I’m so much better than ‘okay’. Every moment with you just gets better and better, I’ve never been this happy before.” You stood for a few moments longer, before the chill was becoming too much, and he was dragging you back to the main house, pausing only to redo the lock and chains on the rickety barn doors. It had a lot of work to do, but you had more than enough time, not planning to have a baby any time too soon, too much for the pair of you yet to do, but the day would come along one day, and now, you had a plan.

As you reached the door, kicking off your boots together and standing them up neatly, he took your coat for you, hanging it up inside and sealing the door against the cold, your skin tingling ad the warmth of the house embraced you, and he rubbed his hands up and down your arms, pressing a kiss to your head as he stood behind you, warming you up a little, and you wiggled your toes in your socks as you regained the feeling within them.

“We have a couple of hours to kill before dinner is ready.” He mumbled, the feeling of his voice vibrating along your skin making you grin a little, ticklish assault drawing giggles out of you as you tipped your head back a little further for him. He took the access granted to him, wet mouth closing further over soft and exposed flesh, his teeth beginning to join the mix, scraping enough to make you shiver. “Any ideas on what we could do?”

“Yeah, I have a few..”

He hummed happily, hands on your hips to turn you around, until your nose was bumping against his, and he could flick his tongue out just enough to tease at your lips, a smirk forming on his face. “What did you have in mind, kitten?”

“Something dirty, we haven’t done it in a while. We can get all the stuff out.”

“I like where this is going.” He whispered, leaning down to catch your lips with his, whining when you pulled back enough to keep him chasing, puckered lips forming a growl as you denied him affection. You gave in, leaning in enough to peck at his lips, dragging your kisses along his cheeks as you cupped his face in your hands, and he let out a soft and breathy laugh as you did.

“Is that a yes?”

Your lips were brushing the shell of his ear, and you flicked your tongue out a little, just over the shell, feeling him tremble slightly underneath you in response, fingers flexing against your hips. “Absolutely it is.”

“So, you agree? We should do some cleaning?”

He huffed, pulling back, an unamused look on his face as he stared down at you, and you beamed up at him, thoroughly entertained by the way a moody was look was flashing over his features, and he pouted, not wanting kisses but instead wanting attention instead, and his hands pulled away, dropping down to his sides as you laughed at him.

“Oh, c’mon, baby. I’m just messing with you.”

“It’s Christmas.” He mumbled, grouchy as he tried to readjust himself through his pants, an uncomfortable look passing over his face as he did, and it only made you giggle more. “You’re not supposed to be a tease at Christmas.” You dragged your hands over his chest, pushing one up until it was tangling in the grown-out hairs that were deeply in need of some brushing and cutting, nails scratching at his scalp. Despite how much he wanted to keep up this act, he was already beginning to crumble, head leaning a little to press into your touch, and features softening the more you soothed him.

“It’s always a good time to be a tease, I have to keep you on your toes. Keep it exciting!”

He chuckled, rolling his eyes and bringing his hands up to find your cheeks, pulling your mouth up to his. It wasn’t the kiss you were expecting, it was a lot softer, more romantic and passionate, his tongue never dipping out to find yours, but simply your mouths working together in sweet and delicate exchanges. Thumbs were brushing over your skin, rubbing calming patterns and you sighed out happily against his mouth, stepping in closer until you could feel the warmth radiating from him, barely an inch between your bodies, and you wondered how it was possible that after all the time you’d been together, he still managed to make your heart race like this.

“I love you, Mitch Rapp.” Your words were whispered into his mouth, and he nodded his head, not breaking away long enough to return the words, before everything about the moment was changing. Sweet and romantic was crashing into a burning inferno of passion and need, teeth nibbling at your lower lip as he tempted them apart, wet articles tangling together as the desperation between you arose.

Hands were circling around to your back, lower and lower along your body, until he was taking handfuls of the fleshy mounds of your ass, pulling you in so close that your breath was knocked from your lungs at the impact of colliding, arching up into his chest with each drag of blunt nails over your covered skin. His bruisingly tight grip was making you whimper just at the touch, and his mouth continued to dominate over yours, a delicious attack that was leaving your lips stinging and raw as you kissed him back with equal force.

The moment that his hands slipped to your thighs, his legs bending as he braced himself, you took your queue, familiar with the unspoken signals between you both by now, and your legs wrapped around his waist as he lifted you into his arms, your own looping his neck. He was able to navigate the home expertly by now, knowing his way around without even a single hitch, and the first you knew of it was when your back was meeting cold sheets.

You gasped, arching up into him, and with the break in the frantic kisses came hickies along your neck. A wet mouth, descending along your skin to suck at your neck, teeth teasing and lips sucking until you were so tightly wound up with need that you thought you may burst at any moment.

He took his time, marking you up as though the two of you had all the time in the world, and while technically you did, you wanted to rush through to the main event, the drawn-out build-up making your head spin as it drove you wild, needing to feel him more than you wanted to simply imagine it. There were times when the foreplay excited you, when you’d spent hours kissing him, teasing him, rocking your hips down into his lips he was doing to you now until every part of you was sparking with excitement, making every touch he gave you even more thrilling.

This wasn’t one of the times, though. This was a time when you needed him now, when you needed to be joined to him in the most intimate way that you possibly could. You weren’t sure why, maybe it was just because it was the most wonderful time of the year, festive activities and jovial emotions heightening everything. Or, maybe it was the revelations that had come to you today, the two of you planning for your future always made you overflow with adoration for him, because he was committing himself to you in every possible way he could.

Every inch of your skin felt itchy, like you craved to be connected to him with every fibre, each cell in your body lighting up with the need to connect, and with your legs locking around his hips, you flipped him over, until he was staring up at you through wide eyes, cheeks flushed and a smirk painted in place of his usual endearing smile.

Your hands found the hem of your jumper, tugging it up and over your head, throwing it away to the floor as you felt like you were burning up with heat, and he sat up quickly enough to be able to help you with your t-shirt as that was next, lifting over your arms once you had it over your head.

“Y’know, I usually like to be the one getting to undress you.”

“You were taking too long.” You retorted, your hands dragging along his stomach, finding the hem of his shirt, and he raised his arms up over his head to let you peel it from his skin, hot to the touch as your fingertips as you traced the faint scars and hairs littered along and between his pecs. The muscles jumped under your touch, and you pushed him back down into the bedding, a breathless chuckle sounding from him, and he bent his arms, propping them under his head. The veins along his biceps made your mouth feel dry, and you leaned down, the tip of your tongue tracing along one until it disappeared at his shoulder, and you placed a kiss there, feeling him twitch a little at the featherlight touches.

“Forgive me, darling. I was trying to make it romantic.”

“No, you are getting back at me for being a tease.” You whispered, using one finger to push his head to the side, and he growled a little as you did, the sound cracking and breaking off as you sucked against the pulse point on his neck. His heartbeat was racing, the patch of skin throbbing as you worked to leave a large mark on his skin that would glow dark purple for days to come, and his breathing went shallow as you worked at the patch.

It was rare that ever let you have control enough to leave lovebites on him, the marks you littered on his skin were usually red marks along the skin of his back or nail prints on his shoulders, bite marks littered along his flesh as you tried to quiet yourself. It was the same way he would to you when you got so desperate that he’d fuck you wherever you were the honeymoon phase of your relationship lasting right up to your actual honeymoon, the two of you still driving one another crazy by a single lingering glance.

It was exactly how you knew that he was the one, that he meant the world to you and would always be your other half, because no matter what, the love and passion between you never dulled.

“Maybe I was getting back at you a little bit, but does that make you think you can take over?”

“Maybe it does.” His hands found your hips, and you rocked in his touch, grinding yourself back along the strained length that was tenting his sweatpants, and he bucked up into you as you did. Every roll you made back along his length, he met you with an equally forceful thrust, moans beginning to leave you as the pace picked up, and your fingers were curling into fists within the bedsheets as you simply tried to control yourself. “Fuck, Mitch..”

“Well, that’s exactly what we could be doing.”

He flipped you back over, and undignified and unaccepting sound on your lips as he took the power once again, the battle between you both becoming more erotic with every twist and turn of your bodies. He kissed all the way along your chest until he could sip his tongue below the hem of your pyjama pants, hot breath fanning over your skin, before he was peeling those down your legs.

You stood, sinking to your knees slowly as you dragged his sweatpants and boxers down his body, hands massaging your way back up his legs, fistfuls of his round ass making him jump, groaning under his breath and cheeks flushing pink at the attention that you gave to his body, the blush spreading right along to his chest. Kissing along his hips, he tangled a hand into your hair, stealing your thunder because as the strands were tugged, stinging against your scalp, you were putty in his hands once again.

Instinctually, your mouth fell open, a wicked look flashing across his features as he pushed the head of his cock between your lips, that dripping tip being all he let you have to begin with. Sealing your mouth around him, he let out a string of appreciative noises in the forms of curses praise, your tongue dragging over his slit, a moan rippling through you at the salty taste of his precum spreading through your mouth.

You focused your attention there, tongue swiping and circling him, making sure his skin was soaked, and as you made to sink down further, he pulled away, wet cock smearing across your cheek and his thumb slipping into your mouth instead.

As you suckled on the digit, his fingers spread out over your neck, tips digging into the flesh, and your thighs clenched together, rubbing needily to try and quell some of the fire threatening to burn you up.

“You horny, baby? You need my cock, hm?”

You nodded, knowing he didn’t want you to use your words to reply, and he let out an approving sound as you did, pulling his thumb back, and sinking his index finger between your cheeks. This time, as you lapped at the finger, he continued to go, prodding back until you were gagging around him, tears lining your eyes and you were certain that the panties you were wearing would be ruined, because the feeling of being so completely and utterly under his control was something that always made you crazy.

He cared for you, he was dedicated to you, and every single time that the two of you had been together, he’d given you his sole focus, making you the most important thing in the world to him at that time, giving you everything you wanted, and now, you wanted to care for him.

“Want t’ make y’ feel goo’.” Your words were muffled, his brows raising, and he pulled the wet finger back, trailing over your skin and leaving it wet as he tipped your head up to look at him. He was prompting you to repeat yourself, and you licked at your lips, smiling at him a little as you tried to steady yourself. “I wasn't to make you feel good.”

“Trust me, kitten, I always feel good.” There was a smirk on his face, and despite having no instruction to do so, you scratched your way lightly up his thigh until you were taking his cock in your hand, pumping him slowly. His jaw dropped, eyes fluttering to half-lidded when you squeezed, and he thrust lightly up into your hand to meet you. “Mhm, good girl, just like that.”

You grinned, hand shifting further down, and you took him back into your mouth. The hand in your hair loosened a little, going lax as he relaxed under your touch, eyes sliding closed as your mouth worked along his length, sinking further and further down with every bob of your head. When you no longer needed to pump him, reducing him to a grunting and moaning mess above you, your hands were finding his thighs, gripping on tightly enough to leave imprints of your nails in the solid muscle.

Your cheeks hollow, sucking along his length tightly, and the vein along the underside of his cock throbbed along your tongue as you flattened against hit, a moan echoing through you and vibrating along is length, the fingers in your hair twitching. “Touch yourself, baby.”

Your eyes snapped up, finding that at some point he had lifted his head to look down at you, brows raised, and he lifted one heavy arm to brush the hair back out of your face, gathering a more competent ponytail out of your hair, a firmer grip, and he began to control the speeds of your movements once again. You adjusted yourself, legs widening when his foot tapped against the insides of your knees, and your hand slipped down to prod at your folds.

You moaned around him once again as your fingers brushed over your swollen clit, his hips bucked up and into your face and making you gag around his length, and he nodded approvingly as he watched you begin to please yourself. Working slow circles over the nub, electricity shot through your body, and you let him guide your head slurping and sucking at his cock, wet and filthy as you pleasured him, and the sounds he was making above you were enough to fuel your own bliss.

Working your fingers in tandem with the pace of his bobbing, the feelings racing through your veins was enough to dull the ache in your jaw and hide the tears beginning to spill down your cheeks as he tapped continuously at the back of your throat. Wetness was building up, slick pools within the cotton of your panties that were making it hard for you to move as the material restricted you, and you whined at the lack of available options, wanting more but unable to obtain it.

“As much as I love getting to watch you swallow everything I give you, that’s not right now. I want to fuck you first, kitten. Get up here.”

As he pulled you off of his cock, your head tipped back to face upwards, strings of saliva snapping as his shining cock pointed upwards, angry and red and needy for a climax, and you took gasping breaths, clambering to your feet on shaking legs as he supported you. Hooking his fingers into your panties, he snapped the elastic against your skin, and you grinned, turning in his hold and ignoring the huff he made, because he was moaning loudly a second later.

Pressing up and into him, you bent at the waist as you dragged them down your legs, wet core rubbing along the length of his cock, and he gripped at your hips, one hand smoothing across your back halfway through standing up, keeping you bent over. “Y’know, I was going to do this romantically. Fuck you real good, wrap you around me, kiss you while you came. But now, I think I want you on your hands and knees.”

He placed a rough spank to both sides of your ass, a cry sounding from you before he was pushing you toward the bed, and you stumbled a little, kicking off the panties wrapped around your ankles to be able to crawl back onto the bed. The mattress dipped underneath his weight as he crawled up onto the space behind you, groping at your ass, the head of his cock sliding through your folds and gathering in your wetness.

He lined himself up, cock stretching your entrance as he sank into you, and your forehead dropped down to your folded arms, a loud whine of his name being all that sounded out into the room to accompany the dragged out sound he was making, pleasure surging through him.

As soon as he was fully encased within your walls, he gave you a moment to adjust, and when you were ready, you began to rock your hips back into him. It was slow movements at first, rocking your hips into him, small circles as you adjusted. His large girth always required you having a minute to acclimate, and he was more than happy to waist, but by the flexing of his hands on your waist, you could tell he was scarcely holding himself back from going wild.

“You can go. Please, Mitch, I need it.”

He chuckled, pulling back almost entirely out of you, setting a slow and steady rhythm. “I know you do, sweetheart, I can feel it. You’re clenching around me so tight.” Your walls fluttered at his swords, the raspy voice in which he praised you was enough to make you whimper, sounds muffled as you bit down on your lower lip, and he tutted. “Did I tell you to be quiet? You know how much I love to hear all those pretty noises you make.”

He pinched your side, making you squeak a little, before a hand was wrapping around your middle, and pulling you up until your back was pressed to his chest. Fingers spreading out wide over your stomach, the other slipped up to your throat, pressure being applied lightly, and the rhythm of his hips was becoming more aggressive and deep with every second that passed. You were squeezing around him, every roll of his hips that slammed into you with enough force to drag against your sweet spot made broken calls of his name sound out.

“If you want to be quiet, though, maybe I’ll keep you quiet, huh?” His fingers tightened, squeezing enough to make your vision spot, and you cried out his name, but it was barely a whisper when it was voiced.

You tried to move back into him, meet his pace, but he was slamming his length in and out of you with motions that you couldn't keep up with. Your eyes were rolling back in your head, no thoughts able to be processed as the inside of your head was chanting a mantra of his name, alongside begs and please that you weren't even sure what for.

Reaching a hand up behind you, you held onto him, hand in his hair and tugging, until you could twist your head to catch his lips. It was a messy and rough kiss, all tongues and teeth, pent-up need and pure love shining through as the two of you fucked your way right through your connection. You almost missed the hand on your stomach slipping lower, until he was rubbing uneven and jagged patterns onto your clit, your entire body jerking as you crashed into your orgasm.

He choked on his breath, biting down roughly on your lip as you clamped around him, and the peak caught you both off-guard. You Cried out, both in pleasure and pain, and he released your lip from his touch, licking soothingly over the patch and whispering an apology into your mouth while his eyes rolled in his head. Your foreheads were pressed together, and when you became too weak to hold yourself up anymore, your body dropped forwards.

Your cheek pressed to the mattress, and he followed after you, one hand beside your head curling in the sheets as the other held onto you with a vice-like grip, sloppy pounding and erratic thrusts making you claw at the bedding. The overstimulation was too much, and tears were once again finding your eyes. Those screams you’d denied yourself earlier were coming to claim you in full ails now, his name a loud sob on your lips as the coil in your stomach continued to wind up, fire burning over you.

Your entire body was sparking with energy, and as he stiffened above you, pulling himself out, you collapsed down into the bed. You were still twitching, body hanging on the precipice of your second climax, and you were granted it only moments later.

Two fingers, slamming into you without warning, pumping so quickly that stars flashed behind your eyes, and your throat was raw with the sudden scream that you let out. Our legs thrashed, arms cramping and knuckles aching with how hard you gripped into the bedding, riding through your peak on his hand.

“Mitch! Hold on!”

“Again.” He hissed, giving you only a seconds reprieve as he flipped you over, a hand on your stomach to hold your hips down, wet fingers finding your weeping hole again, and your cheeks were stinging with tears as a pleasure so strong began to wash over you that you forgot how to even breathe. “Are you going to come? You are, I can feel it, walls like velvet grippin’ me so tight.”

“Please!”

“Please what, kitten? You want my cock, that how you want to come? Want me to fill you up, fuck this pretty little pussy full of cum, huh?” You let out a ragged moan at his words, barely able to nod your head, and he pulled his fingers back, hands spreading over your thighs to push our legs apart, settled back into the dip and sinking his cock back inside of you. Your legs wrapped around his waist, his hand trapped between your body as his fingers, soaked with your arousal stayed nestled against your bud, rubbing frantic circles onto it as you ascended into the clouds.

“Oh, fuck, Mitch!” With a final shout, you came, the bedsheets around you soaking as you gushed, hips bucking up wildly and body spasming in the bed, his form crushing you as he found his own high. Bliss was encasing you both, a bubble that only the pair of you existed within, and as ropes of hot cum filled you, he collapsed down on top of you.

He licked at your earlobe, lips brushing your ear and you shuddered, whimpering at the electric racing through your body from the action, your fingertips tingling, and he was still sitting snugly within your walls, throbbing and leaking with the aftermath. “I love you too, kitten.”

Your heart beat strongly, arms wrapping around him as you laughed weakly, catching his lips in a light kiss. It was gentle, just enough to confirm everything that had been shared between you both, before the sticky and wet feelings around you both were growing uncomfortable. He lifted you up, your body shaking as he slipped out of you, an ache that you were accustomed to taking place, and he pressed a kiss to your shoulder before standing up. He offered you his hands, helping you to stand too, and your knees almost gave out on you as you peeled yourself away from the sodden covers, the remnants of your final orgasm still dripping down your thighs.

“Go clean yourself up, baby doll, I’ll grab you some clothes.” Heat flushed along your body as something thicker than your own cum was leaking along your skin, smearing between your thighs with every small step you took, and you could hear mitch shuffling in the bedroom. The wooden floors were cold under your foot, every foot chilling you back down a little more, shivering a little with goosebumps, and your body was relieved to sit back down as you reached for the paper roll, cleaning yourself up and slumping into the seat.

Washing your hands and smoothing down your hair, you felt considerably cleaner, almost as though you were drunk as you continued to float through the skies on the high that being with your fiancé had given you. When you returned, still a little wobbly but much more stable, he had stripped the bedding and replaced it, a more Christmassy set than before laid out in its place, and he had pulled on some clothes.

Padding his way over to you, you raised your arms lazily, letting him pull on a fresh set of clothes, before shimmying you into some pants, giggles and laughs muffled between kisses and gasps when you stumbled, before finally, you were cosy and dressed again.

“That was awesome.”

“Bet your cute little ass it was.” His hand found yours, tugging you along behind him and into the corridors, the smell of the meal that was being made for the two of you floating around, and you let out a groan as yous stomach rumbled. The scent grew stronger as you moved through the house, enticing you deeper and deeper, and you stood beside him as he began to check everything over, leaning against the kitchen counter. “I had a thought about the wedding.”

“You could sound more optimistic about that.”

He chuckled, shaking his head and pecking your lips in confirmation. “I can’t wait to marry you, love. You know that, I’m just not sure how you’ll react. I know you’ve been looking into places for the wedding, and we’ve gone to look at a few venues, but none of them really felt right. Right?” You hummed, eyes narrowing to him a little, and he busied himself with poking at the turkey to check whether it was done, nudging the over door closed again. “Well, what if we had it here?”

“Like, the farmhouse here? Because it’s kinda’ in shambles at the moment. A lot of work left to be done.”

“Well, yes and no.” He sighed, still avoiding your eye a little, and you tried to shuffle a little closer towards him as he worked. “Not in the farmhouse, but what if we had a summer wedding? Something simple. We could have it outside, picnic benches in the fields when they fill up with daisies and dandelions. You’ve sent me some pretty pictures of those fields before. We could do it picnic style.”

His voice trailed off a little as he spoke, and you could tell he was beginning to doubt himself, and so you pressed up behind him, arms around his waist and pressing a kiss to the patch between his shoulder blades, feeling him relax a little under your hold. “I love it.”

“You do?”

“You’ve let me make every decision about our wedding, our house, and our future so far. You deserve an equal say, and if you want a picnic-style wedding on the farm, then that's what we’ll do. I think it sounds lovely.” He twisted to face you, hands holding onto your cheeks and thumb smoothing over your skin, a stare fixed on you that felt as though he was boring into your soul.

“I just want us both to be happy. I don’t have an opinion on a lot of it, my interior design choices are limited to bunk beds and camo.” His joke made you scoff out a laugh, brushing your lips against his.

“That’s okay, soldier, I can make the tough choices on paint colours.” He rolled his eyes, closing the gap for only a moment, and you relished in the loving touch he held you with. “Oh, my bad. You’re my farmer, now.”

“That I am.” He mumbled, a few more shirt kisses pressed to your lips, before he was pushing you backwards. “Go choose a movie, I’ll plate us up some dinner.”

You lit up, and he seemed to see it sparkling in your eyes as his lips pursed. “No.”

“You said choose a movie!”

“I meant a Christmas movie! I’m not watching ‘The Mummy’ again this week.” Your arms folded over your chest at his words, a pout on your lips and he frowned, holding sting for only a few seconds before he was whining, turning away from you to reach for plates. “I know the whole script by heart now. I’m growing to hate that film.”

“Yeah, but you love me!” Your words were sung a little as you made your way through to the living room to load up the television, hearing him mumble his reply, words you couldn't really hear, but you knew he was only confirming your sentiments. As the Christmas lights twinkled, the fire still burning and in need of new logs, the television flickering to life as your soon-to-be husband served up dinner in the farmhouse kitchen, you knew there was no place you could possibly be that would make you any happier than right here.

#Mitch Rapp #mitch rapp x reader #mitch rapp x reader smut #mitch rapp/reader #mitch rapp/reader smut #mitch rapp American assassin #dylan obrien mitch rapp #dylan obrien american assassin #dylan o'brien #dylan obrien #dylan obrien/reader #dylan obrien x reader #dylan obrien x reader smut #dylan obrien/reader smut #12 Days of AUmas

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jasontoddiefor · 4 years ago

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Summary: “Do you like it?” Obi-wan asked. Ahsoka looked up at him in confusion. What was he talking about- “The tea,” he added and raised his own cup like a sign.

Or, Anakin is injured and Ahsoka spends some time with her Grandmaster.

The tea Obi-Wan pressed into her hands smelled familiar, like the one Anakin made for them after late shifts when they had only recently left Coruscant. It was a sweet tea, so sweet that Ahsoka didn't even need to put any sugar in it. Their kitchen – an expression that still made Ahsoka grin with happiness because she had a Master now and she was a Padawan, even after these first months – didn't have anything but tea and some instant noodles stocked. For some reason, Ahsoka wasn't allowed to heat them up for lunch, so they had to go down to the cafeteria to eat. Obi-Wan had said something about the noodles being important to Anakin, and Ahsoka hadn't asked after that. She was too sure she'd start to cry like a youngling if she thought any more about her Master, who was currently unconscious in the halls of healing, being looked over by various healers.

The mission had been supposed to be easy. Nobody should have gotten hurt.

Ahsoka sunk further into her chair, buried herself in her Master's oversized coat. It had been handed to her when they'd brought Anakin in and Ahsoka had kept it on since. She knew it was stupid, that she looked ridiculous, but she kept it on anyway because it smelled like him and therefore like home and peace.

So here she was now with her Grandmaster in their kitchen in an apartment she didn't even really have a room in yet because they hadn't had time to clear it out, drinking tea.

"Do you like it?" Obi-wan asked.

Ahsoka looked up at him in confusion. What was he talking about-

"The tea," he added and raised his own cup like a sign.

"Oh, yes," she replied, feeling stupid for not having understood. She wanted Obi-Wan to like her and think she was a suitable addition to their lineage. "It smells familiar to the one Anakin always makes."

"It's the very same," Obi-Wan replied. "It's the only tea the two of us like equally well, so we always drink it together."

"Oh." Ahsoka hadn't known that. It felt like something she should know about her Master, like allergies. Frantically, Ahsoka tried to remember whether she could recall any of Anakin's allergies; he had to have at least one, right? Before she could get any more worked up and leave Obi-Wan in this awkward silence, she forced herself to ask another question. "What's in it?"

"A few red berries and some other indigenous fruit from Naboo. It was the only tea offered on Naboo that didn't taste like it had been dosed in perfume," Obi-Wan said and pulled a face as if the tea from Naboo had genuinely offended him.

Ahsoka giggled, then quickly clasped her hand over her mouth. She hadn't meant to laugh at her Grandmaster, but Obi-Wan only smiled good-naturedly.

"Why- when were you on Naboo together?"

She knew that Anakin enjoyed items coming from the planet and was quite knowledgeable about its culture. She had no idea why someone would have all theatre genre of Naboo's last century memorized, but as Anakin had proven on a long retcon mission, he could talk endlessly about them. At least all his cursing had made them more entertaining than her own literature classes at the Temple.

"Ah, that's a rather long story. You were…. Five when Anakin joined the Order, weren't you?"

Ahsoka wanted to protest, surely she had to have been younger, but she remembered the whispers and knew her Master's age. It was strange to think he was only a few years older than her. She thought it would have been more, it should have been more, but if she were any younger and he older, perhaps they wouldn't be Master and Padawan at all.

She nodded in confirmation and Obi-Wan continued on.

"Anakin and I spent a month together on Naboo before we returned to Coruscant and he officially became a part of the Order. The Naboo prefer their food to taste and smell a bit flowery, and neither of us was used to it. After a lot of bickering, we decided that it was the one brand we actually both enjoyed. It took us a while to figure out how to brew it correctly, but eventually, I learned and taught Anakin in turn."

That certainly sounded nice, domestic even, like a scene she had never seen before. She tried to imagine the two of them in their kitchen, Obi-Wan being younger without a beard and looking less exhausted while Anakin was even shorter than her, perhaps standing on a barstool of some kind so that he could reach the counter.

Obi-Wan brought his own cup to his lips and drunk from it, then he set the cup on the table again.

They didn't have a single matching set of teacups that they actually appeared to be using. There were a few tea sets in the cupboard, Ahsoka had seen those already, but they didn't look like they were actually in use. Instead, Anakin and Obi-Wan had a collection of cups with silly images, colorful prints, and sayings.

"Ahsoka, I know we didn't get to spend much time together yet, but if you'd like, and if you enjoy this tea, I would like to show you how to prepare it properly."

Hearing those words, Ahsoka perked up. "Really?"

Obi-Wan smiled kindly at her and set his cup on the table. "It's a bit of a tradition for us, figuring out how to make a particular tea and then going out to buy a new cup for it. I used to do it with my Master, and Anakin and I didn't collect so many different mugs for no reason. You don't have classes this afternoon, do you?"

Ahsoka shook her head. "No."

They had canceled her classes for the rest of the week. There was no need for her to go when she'd only worry about Anakin. She could, of course, but the healers had been very insistent that Ahsoka should figure out her own boundaries and act according to them.

She still kind of wanted to go to class, just to prove that something like her Master getting hurt didn't unsettle her too much, but she was also still glued to their kitchen chair, wrapped in his oversized coat.

"Then, if you want, we can go out in the city today and buy you a cup and a new brand of tea to try out."

It would do her good to go outside. "I'd like that."

The two of them finished their teapot, then Ahsoka returned to her room. They still hadn't finished setting it up and so was currently more the place she stuck her stuff as Anakin frantically tried to move his plants to another surface that was not already covered by them and miniaturize his droid workshop. Most of the time, she didn't even sleep in the bed that had been cramped in there. In the words of her Master, why should she sleep there when Obi-Wan's larger and more comfortable bed was right there. Or Anakin's when Anakin managed to drag himself only to the sofa or, already half-asleep, stumbled into Obi-Wan's room.

Once her Master was cleared from the halls, they were going to sort that out. Even if Obi-Wan didn't have any problems with her taking over his bed.

Ahsoka got dressed, changed into robes of her own size and slipped back into the main room. From there on it was a quick and easy trip to the shopping districts of Coruscant. Obi-Wan wistfully muttered something about "at least it's not the lower levels this time" that he didn't see fit to elaborate on and Ahsoka, therefore, chose to keep in mind for a later date.

The tea shop he led her to must be one he frequented more often because the owner greeted him with name and immediately showed him a selection he thought would be to Obi-Wan's liking. Ahsoka smelled the various fruity, spicy, and bitter tea selections and eventually picked one that Obi-Wan and she both agreed looked like the most interesting one. Apparently, the tea changed colors as it cooled down. They didn't stay long enough in the store to get a practical demonstration, but Ahsoka was still eager to see it. Mainly to see it in the new mug Obi-Wan had bought her. It was supposed to match the color of the liquid inside. It was ridiculous, but Ahsoka thought it was fun.

"We can make it for Anakin later," Obi-Wan said. "He is supposed to wake up this evening."

"Do you think he'd like that?"

"I think he would be very pleased to see how well his Padawan has conducted herself in his absence. And he always did like food that was a little extraordinary."

The rest of the afternoon passed quickly with the two walking through the smaller streets, visiting stores Ahsoka had never seen before, but who all apparently knew her quite well already. The number of times somebody addressed her with "Little Anakin's Padawan?" was quite astonishing.

By the time they returned to the Temple, it was already dark. Their first stop after deposing their new items in their rooms was the cafeteria. Dinner was, as always, a loud and cheerful affair. Groups of Initiates were running around the many tables, Padawans chatting to each other and Masters bragging about their students. She and Obi-Wan took a seat at a table a little closer to the edge where it was quieter, though even they weren't spared from the toddlers handing out sugary cupcakes that looked like somebody was trying to sell pure diabetes.

But how was Ahsoka supposed to resist when the tiny Nautolan with the huge eyes offered it to her? It wasn't like Obi-Wan could resist it either.

After they had finished dinner, they returned to their quarters, properly put away all they had bought, and set the new tea package on the kitchen table together with Ahsoka's mug.

"Alright," Obi-Wan said. "Let's see how hot the water needs to be and how long the tea needs to steep."

With gentle fingers, Obi-Wan began to put the tea leaves into filter bags and familiarized Ahsoka with it. He taught her how to properly pour tea and which brands were better with a little more or less sugar, which needed salt of all things, and about a hundred other different tidbits that she couldn't believe he just knew from the top of his head.

But all the work seemed to pay off as they had a teapot full of blue tea that was slowly turning violet.

"Well done," Obi-Wan praised her as he grabbed the teapot and a mug for himself.

Ahsoka took her own new one, though she had already decided that she'd let Anakin drink out of it this time, and took another for herself. Together they headed towards the halls of healing. They hadn't even entered them properly when Anakin's voice reached them.

"I am fine, Bant, I swear! I just want to see Ahsoka and Obi-Wan, promise I'll be back within twenty minutes- ten minutes!"

Just as Ahsoka and Obi-Wan waked around the corner, they saw Anakin attempting to climb out of his bed, bandages still wrapped around his head, and arguing with Bant. As soon as he saw them, his eyes lit up.

"Ahsoka! Obi-Wan, are you well?"

Ahsoka stared at Anakin, whole, healthy, and smiling, and reassured herself that he was real. Then in the fashion of a child, she threw herself at him, burying her head in his chest as she before had in his robes.

"Woah, woah, everything's alright, Ahsoka. I'm just fine, see?"

He patted her head almost a little awkwardly like he didn't know what to do with his hands, but Ahsoka didn't care.

He was fine, everything was alright.

"Anakin Skywalker, what are you doing? Get back into bed!"

Ahsoka slowly released Anakin from her embrace so that he could fall back on his bed. He crossed his arms in front of his chest and rolled his eyes at the Mon Calamari Jedi.

"Bant wants to keep me here overnight, even though I'm fine."

At this, he glared a little at Bant, though Ahsoka could tell his heart was not in it. If that were so, she knew Bant wouldn't be standing here much longer. As ridiculous as he looked right now, Ahsoka knew her Master could be quite terrifying if he wanted to.

"Don't act so much like a bratty Padawan, Anakin," Bant only commented. "Now sit down, rest, get well, and you can go back to your rooms tomorrow morning."

"Yes, yes," Anakin muttered and pulled the blanket back over his legs. Bant smiled at the three of them, then bid them good night as well.

"It's good to see you're causing trouble as always," Obi-Wan said and set the teapot on the table next to Anakin's bed so he could sit down on its edge. "Here I was worried it was something serious."

"Oh, you know me, Master. I always have to be a little dramatic. What tea is that?"

Anakin couldn't have changed the topic more obviously in favor of curiously examining the teapot.

"Master Obi-Wan and I went out shopping in the city today," Ahsoka spoke up and pushed her new mug into Anakin's hands before she saw down next to him. "We bought a new tea and it changes color and also a mug and-"

"Hey, Snips, slow down."

Ahsoka shut up as Anakin raised his hands. Then, with an expression Ahsoka could only describe as pouty, her Master turned to Obi-Wan.

"You took my Padawan on her first tea run without me?" Anakin asked accusingly, pointing his finger at Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan only sighed theatrically and poured some tea, by now a dark red color, into every cup. "Well, we can't all be heroes recovering from a deadly assault. I take it said hero doesn't want a cup then?"

Now Anakin was quick to hold out the cup Ahsoka had pressed into his hands. "No, I want to see what my Padawan picked out. Hurry up, Master."

Obi-Wan's following laughter was infectious. It was almost as loud and cheerful as Anakin's demands to be told everything of their trip in detail. Sitting next to him on the bed, covered by the heavy blanket and the warm tea in hand, Ahsoka could finally allow herself to relax fully.

#star wars #ahsoka tano #obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #tcw #fanfic #disaster lineage #i now want space tea

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emospritelet · 3 years ago

Text

Heatstroke - chapter 21/23

This fic is next on my list to complete, so wish me luck! Last time, Gold and Lacey danced, and Lacey got Gold to agree to be interviewed. Here's what happened next :)

[AO3]

Lacey smoothed her dress over her hips, turning this way and that before the mirror. She was wearing a white summer dress with a flared skirt, her feet in white strappy wedges and her hair tied up. It wasn’t the sort of outfit she usually wore to conduct interviews, but there again this wasn’t one of her usual interviews. She was not about to ask one of Storybrooke’s elderly residents about her success in growing pumpkins or making preserves. She was going to be asking Mr Gold about his life, interests and passions. And with any luck, she’d be able to experience a few of those passions for herself.

She hadn’t seen Gold since the dance, but she could still remember the way he had felt pressed against her and the scent of his cologne in her nose. She had been excited about the interview ever since, and the possibility of getting even closer to him once it was done. Ruby had teased her only a little before telling her to remember to take condoms. Just in case.

She took a final glance at her reflection, nodded decisively, and snatched up the bag with her recording equipment and notebook, throwing the strap over her shoulder. Let’s do this.

The walk to Gold’s house from her own took less than a minute, which gave her no time to be nervous, and she stomped up onto the porch and knocked on the door. He answered promptly, a tiny smile on his face, and she felt her heart thump at the gleam in his eyes.

“Miss French,” he said pleasantly. “Do come in.”

He was wearing one of his suits, black with a dark blue silk shirt and a burgundy silk tie. The shirt had a faint damask pattern, and she found that her eyes were scouring it, running over the lean lines of his body. She hurriedly raised her eyes to his to find him gazing at her steadily. Lacey bit her lip, hoping she wouldn’t blush.

“Hey,” she said quickly. “Uh - thanks for agreeing to do this.”

“You were rather persuasive, as I recall.”

“I’ve been called worse,” she said, and he chuckled, stepping aside to let her in.

“I thought we could use the study for this,” he said. “It’s down the hallway and to your left, but you’re welcome to look around.”

She sent him a smile, stepping past him and hearing him close the door behind her with a soft click as she moved left.

“I was just making some tea,” he said. “May I offer you some?”

“Uh - yeah, thanks.”

He nodded and turned away, and she heard the click of his cane as he headed for the kitchen. An open door led to the lounge, and she couldn’t resist taking a look inside, trying to imagine him relaxing there, with a book and a glass of whisky, and Darcy curled on the rug at his feet. The house was as she imagined, clean and neat, filled with beautiful things, and somehow out of its time. It smelled of beeswax and leather and some woody, earthy scent that she couldn’t quite place. The furniture seemed to be entirely antique, gleaming wood and polished brass and silk brocade, shelves set with porcelain figurines and delicate glass vases.

Lacey stepped back from peering inside the lounge, and headed slowly down the hall, heels clicking on the wooden floor. She let her eyes flick left to right, taking in the surroundings as she went, and her mouth curved upwards in a smile as she turned into what he had called the study. Bookshelves covered two of the walls, a bay window looking out over neat gardens and double glass doors which opened out onto a porch. A heavy desk sat on the wall opposite, a brass lamp to one side and a vase of deep red roses on the other.

She could hear him clattering around in the kitchen, and walked slowly around the room, eyes scanning the shelves. He had books on a wide range of subjects: volumes on antiques, art and ceramics took up one shelf, and there were books on history, law and politics. Novels made up the bulk of his collection, from what she could see, a mixture of classics and modern authors. He had three copies of Pride and Prejudice with different covers. There again, so did she. There were even some children’s books on one shelf, and she remembered that he had a young grandson. The thought of him choosing books so that his grandson might one day enjoy them made her smile.

“Here we are, then.”

Gold’s voice and the clink of china made her look around, and he entered the room with a tray balanced in one arm, shaking his head as she hurried forward.

“I’m used to getting around on my own, don’t concern yourself,” he said, and bent to slide the tray onto the small table in the bay window. The teapot, cups and saucers wobbled a little, but nothing spilled. Relieved, Lacey turned back to the bookshelves, eyeing a carved wooden bookend in the shape of an owl.

“You have some nice things,” she said. “Stock or personal?”

“Most of it’s personal,” he said from behind her. “I do rotate a few pieces between my home and the shop, but I find that if I like something enough to bring it into my home, it tends to stay there.”

Lacey turned on her toes to face him. He was standing by the window, both hands on the handle of his cane, watching her.

“Well,” she said. “I guess we should make a start.”

She spent a couple of minutes setting up her recording equipment and taking out her notebook and pencil. There were two chairs in the bay window, wing back armchairs in oxblood leather that creaked as she sat down. The chair was surprisingly comfortable, and she shifted position, tugging at the skirt of her dress and arranging it over her thighs. Gold lowered himself into the chair opposite, and Lacey pressed play on the recording equipment.

“Interview with Mr Gold, Sunday, July eighteenth at”—Lacey checked her watch—”four-oh-nine.”

She sat back and crossed her legs, meeting Gold’s eyes.

“Thank you for agreeing to this interview, Mr Gold,” she said.

“My pleasure, Miss French.”

His voice was a low rumble, and Lacey squeezed her thighs together, clearing her throat as she did so. She wondered if he knew the effect his voice had on her.

“I thought we’d start with some of your personal history,” she said. “If that’s okay with you.”

“Ask your questions,” he said.

“You promised to answer all of them, right?” she said, and he lifted one shoulder and let it fall in a lazy shrug.

“A deal’s a deal.”

“Right.”

Lacey glanced down at her notebook, where she had scribbled some of things she wanted to raise.

“So, Logan Gold, born in Glasgow, moved to the US in 1993,” she said. “Studied first at Oxford, then at Harvard, and became a lawyer. Got married, had a son and eventually obtained full custody following a pretty vicious divorce. Worked in New York for several large legal firms before settling down in the sleepy small town of Storybrooke in Maine to run a pawn shop. Quite a change of pace.”

A flick of Gold’s eyebrow was the only indication of surprise.

“You’ve done your homework,” he observed, and she shrugged.

“That’s my job.”

Gold raised a finger.

“You forgot to mention my extensive property empire,” he said, and she raised an eyebrow.

“You want me to stroke your ego, is that it?”

He showed his teeth.

“I wouldn’t want you to be accused of being anything but thorough.”

“Fine,” she sighed. “You run a pawn shop and own most of the property in town, yadda yadda yadda.”

“Well, we seem to have concluded the whistle-stop tour of my life,” he remarked. “Perhaps the interview is over.”

“Hey, not so fast!” she said immediately, making him grin. “I was just getting the dull stuff out of the way.”

Gold inclined his head.

“Ask your questions, Miss French.”

“Okay.” Lacey glanced down at her notes, her heart thudding a little. “Uh - what made you move to the US?”

“Work, mostly,” he said. “As you have already mentioned, I studied law at Oxford, and knew I wanted to pursue it as a career. I was fortunate enough to get a scholarship to study at Harvard, and I’ve been in the US ever since.”

“How easy did you find it to adjust to living in a new country?”

He pulled a face.

“It wasn’t so bad,” he said. “Perhaps because I was so busy with my studies, and then work. I didn’t have a lot of time for anything else. I think maybe it was harder to adjust when I moved out of the city. Being in New York is nothing like being in Storybrooke.”

“In what way?”

“Every way,” he said. “The pace of life is far slower, which is mostly a relief, but irritating when you want something done quickly. People are friendly, and want to get to know you. They stop to talk to you in the street, and greet you with some sort of sincerity.”

“The horror,” she remarked, and he grinned.

“Let’s just say I never did get used to that side of things.”

“Never tempted to move back?”

“No,” he said immediately. “No, I’m content to stay here.”

“And what about going back to Scotland?”

“I’ve been back a few times,” he said. “It’s changed a lot over the years. I still like to visit, but my home is here now. I’d only go back if my family decided to.”

“Your son, right?” she said. “And you have a grandson.”

“Yes. Henry.” Gold smiled faintly. “My son and his wife have spent their entire lives in the US. They’re very settled here, so I can’t see them wanting to leave, and I would never leave without them. I’m afraid you’re stuck with me, Miss French.”

Good.

Aloud she said: “Family’s important to you, then.”

“The most important thing in my life,” he said, with a sincerity that touched her. “I know I’ve made a lot of money, and when you consider where I came from, I imagine I’ve made a success of my life. But my family is what matters.”

Lacey tapped her pencil against her lips.

“You never remarried,” she said. “Why not?”

Gold didn’t answer immediately. He sat forward, reaching for the teapot. Lacey watched tea pour in a thin, amber stream, and he pushed a cup and saucer towards her before adding a little milk to his own tea and stirring.

“I believe you used the words ‘vicious divorce’,” he said. “I have to say that is something of an understatement. I’m afraid it rather put me off the idea of relationships.”

Lacey felt something inside her turn to stone and fall into the pit of her stomach.

“Oh,” she said. “Completely?”

Gold pulled a face, taking a sip of tea.

“Let’s just say that my son and daughter-in-law have been pestering me about dating for years and I have only recently started to entertain the idea.”

He held her gaze for a moment, and Lacey felt her heart lighten.

“Sounds as though they care about you a lot,” she observed, and he smiled.

“Yes. As I tell myself when I find their interference particularly irritating.”

She chuckled a little, and decided to change the subject.

“So why antiques?” she said, and Gold smiled, setting his cup in its saucer.

“Antiques give you a taste of other people’s lives,” he said. “Each piece in my shop has a story behind it. Someone owned it before it came to me. Perhaps it was a cherished object, set on a shelf of a display cabinet and taken out and admired. Perhaps it was wrapped in newspaper and shoved into a packing crate and ignored. Either way it’s all history, all a part of other people’s existences.”

Lacey smiled, somewhat entranced by the sound of his voice.

“It’s strange,” she said. “I didn’t think you liked people all that much.”

That tiny smile again.

“Doesn’t mean I don’t find them interesting.”

“But to go from being a top lawyer to running a shop,” she said. “It must have been a hell of a change of pace.”

“The shop’s just a hobby, really,” he said. “I enjoy it, but it’s not where I make my money. The rental business is my chief source of income, and what takes up most of my time. Scheduling repairs, arranging for renovation, that sort of thing.”

“So, no plans to expand outside Storybrooke?” she asked, and he let out a short laugh.

“No no, I’m trying to concentrate on the town itself,” he said. “You may be aware of the local entrepreneur fund that the Mayor set up last year. I’ve donated to that and provide business advice to some of those that signed up. I’ve also been involved in refurbishing some of the old warehouse buildings near the harbour. Looking to attract some local businesses there, revitalise the area.”

Lacey nodded, reaching for her tea and taking a drink.

“Very generous of you.”

“If the town prospers, so do I,” he said. “It’s good business sense, that’s all.”

“Right.” She took another drink of tea. “So we’ve covered your family, your work. I'm interested in going back to your early years, but let's deal with the present for now. What do you do in your spare time?”

Gold sat back a little, pursing his lips.

“I’m afraid it’s nothing very exciting,” he said. “I read a lot.”

“So I’ve seen.”

“I like to cook,” he added.

“Even when you’re on your own?” she asked. “I don’t know, I’ve been living alone for years, and sometimes it’s all I can do to throw a pizza in the oven.”

His mouth twitched.

“Well, food is a sensual pleasure,” he said, the tone of his voice lowering again. “It’s important to take your time. To savour it. Sometimes the most enjoyment comes from the time and care taken in its preparation.”

She was almost certain he was flirting with her.

“Time and care’s all very well, but if the execution sucks it’s wasted effort,” she said bluntly, and Gold grinned.

“Practice makes perfect.”

“True enough.”

He was still grinning, and she felt as though she was about two minutes away from launching herself at his crotch. She looked down at her notes to refocus.

“Okay, quick fire round,” she said. “Ten questions, don’t think too hard about the answers. Ready?”

He blinked at her, but nodded.

“Go ahead.”

“Sweet or savoury?”

“Sweet.”

“Coffee or tea?”

“Tea.”

“Cats or dogs?”

“I have to choose?”

Lacey nodded in acknowledgement.

“Okay, that’s fair. Cats and dogs both rule,” she said. “Winter or summer?”

“Winter.”

“Okay…” Lacey pretended to be checking her notes. “Legs or boobs?”

“What?”

“I told you, don’t think too much!”

“Uh - legs.”

“Favourite alcoholic drink?”

“Single malt whisky.”

“Favourite thing to eat?”

The flick of an eyebrow.

“Are we talking food?” he asked, his voice a low purr, and Lacey squeezed her legs together.

“You have a dirty mind, Gold.”

“You could only consider that comment dirty if your mind was also dirty.”

“Just answer the question!”

“Lamb slow-roasted with rosemary and lots of garlic.”

Lacey felt her mouth water.

“Ugh, that sounds delicious!”

“It is.”

“Okay, focus!” She rolled her eyes, more at herself than him. “Boxers or briefs?”

He grinned at that, eyebrows twitching.

“Boxers.”

“Favourite place to visit?”

“Scotland.”

“Who do you miss right now?”

“My son.”

“Do you want to have sex with me?”

“Yes.”

There was a pause. Gold was wide-eyed and looking a little shell-shocked, as though he couldn’t believe that she had asked the question and that he had answered it. Lacey smirked, tapping her pencil on the notepad.

“Well,” she said. “That’s out of the way, then.”

Gold was silent for a moment.

“I’m going to have to insist that that question and its answer don’t make it into the Storybrooke Mirror,” he said evenly, and Lacey grinned, uncrossing and recrossing her legs, and noting the way his eyes followed the movement.

“Believe me, that’s just between us,” she said, and he looked amused.

“Thank goodness for that.”

“You’re a pretty private person, huh?” she observed.

“Extremely.”

“Don’t want anyone in town knowing your business.”

“Takes the mystery out,” he quipped.

“Uh-huh.” She sat back. “So why did you agree to do this interview?”

A tiny smile made his eyes gleam.

“Perhaps I enjoyed our time together the other night.”

“Did you?”

“Yes.” He raised an eyebrow. “Does that surprise you?”

“It would have surprised me a few weeks ago,” she admitted. “Our first meetings weren’t all that promising, remember?”

“First impressions can be misleading,” he said.

“I guess so.”

There was a moment of silence, and Lacey looked him up and down very deliberately.

“If it makes you feel any better,” she said. “I want to have sex with you, too.”

Gold stared at her for a moment, and then barked a laugh.

“That wasn’t a joke,” she said, and he shook his head, waving a hand.

“No, it’s just that Emma—my daughter-in-law—she said you liked me. And she knew I had feelings for you. She knew before I did.”

“She probably knew I liked you before I did, too,” remarked Lacey. “Are we both wilfully blind, or just dumb?”

Gold laughed at that, his eyes twinkling.

“Perhaps a little of both,” he said. “Although in our defence we didn’t have the most auspicious start, did we?”

“I don’t know, I got to see you naked,” she said. “Got that out of the way.”

Gold laughed again, and Lacey put her head to the side.

“So when did your opinion change?” she asked. “Pretty sure you found me annoying as hell to start with.”

“Oh, I did,” he said, grinning. “I’m not sure when it changed.”

“How did you know it had?”

Gold sucked his teeth, raising his eyes to the ceiling for a moment before looking back.

“I had a very vivid dream about you one night that caused me to reevaluate how I felt.”

Lacey sat forward, feeling her mouth drop open.

“A dream?”

“Very. Vivid,” he said, enunciating each word, and she felt curiosity surge in her.

“What happened?”

Gold chuckled deeply.

“Oh, I’m not telling you that.”

Lacey gave him a flat look.

“Do I need to remind you about the deal we made?” she asked. “You said I could ask you anything, and you’d give me an answer.”

Gold sat back, running his hands over his face with a grumbling sigh before looking through his fingers at her.

“I didn’t mean sex dreams,” he said, his tone muffled.

“Then you should have made that an explicit term, Mr Hot-Shot Lawyer,” she countered. “And you can’t drop ‘sex dreams’ on me and then say nothing, no fair.”

He sighed again, and let his hands drop to his lap, his expression one of rueful amusement.

“Fine,” he said. “But turn off the tape.”

Lacey reached for the recording equipment, smirking at him.

“What’s the matter, don’t you trust me?��

“Yes,” he said. “It’s more the unintended consequences of having this conversation recorded that’s bothering me. Fate has a twisted sense of humour, after all. With my luck it would accidentally end up being broadcast on Radio FTL’s Good Morning Storybrooke in place of the weather forecast, or something.”

“True enough,” she agreed, and switched off the recording before setting her notepad aside and turning to face him. “So. About this dream.”

Gold grumbled again.

“God, this is excruciating,” he muttered, and Lacey smirked.

“Well, you know what they say,” she said. “If you’re uncomfortable, just picture your audience naked.”

Gold stared at her, and burst out laughing again. Lacey grinned.

“Good, I can make you laugh,” she said. “Come on, tell me how we got our sexy on.”

“God, that makes it sound even worse,” he sighed.

“I’m waiting.”

Another sigh, and he ran a hand over his mouth, shaking his hair back.

“Alright,” he said eventually. “I dreamt that you came to the shop while I was going through my ledgers. You were dressed in a - uh - very tight black dress and very high heels, and you took my hand, led me into the back room, and - and went down on me.”

He seemed uncomfortable, his eyes looking everywhere but at hers, as though he were ashamed. Lacey pursed her lips.

“Huh,” she said. “I think I’ve had that same dream.”

Gold laughed out loud, shaking his head and grinning.

“You constantly surprise me, Miss French,” he said.

“Good.” Lacey pushed slowly to her feet. “Let me see if I can keep doing that.”

She took a step towards him, then another, and sank down on her knees on the rug, sitting on her heels and putting her hands on his thighs. Gold’s breathing had quickened, his nostrils flaring a little, his eyes dark and deep.

“So,” said Lacey softly. “I got on my knees, hmm?”

“Yes,” he breathed.

She slid her hands slowly up his thighs, rising up on her knees and gently pushing his legs apart.

“Like this?”

Gold swallowed hard. His hands were resting on his thighs, the fingers twitching a little, as though they ached to touch her.

“A - a little.”

“Hmm.” She shifted forward, pushing between his legs, hands sliding further up until her fingertips brushed along the edge of his waistcoat. “And then what happened?”

Gold licked his lips, his breathing unsteady.

“To my great regret,” he said. “I woke up.”

Lacey let out a soft laugh, catching his eyes with hers.

“Well then,” she said. “I guess we’ll have to improvise.”

She had shifted forward, her body pressed up against his groin, her fingers stroking his sides, and her mouth was almost close enough to touch his. His breath was cool against her lips, the tip of his nose just brushing against hers, and her heart was thumping hard in her chest.

“Improvise,” he whispered. “Yes.”

His hands slid up her sides, fingers trailing over the curves of her hips, her waist, her shoulders. Her own breathing had quickened, the throb of her pulse heavy in her lips, her throat, her groin. She gently brushed her lips against his, pulling his breath into her lungs, tasting his scent on her tongue, and when she opened her eyes his gaze was dark enough to make her shiver.

“Take me to bed,” she said, and his breath seemed to catch in his throat, his mouth twitching.

“Yes, Lacey,” he breathed. “Yes.”

#fic: heatstroke #golden lace fic #rumbelle fic #my fic #golden lace #rumbelle

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