#me when the man eats a simple orange at sunset | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

indzae-mayumi · 2 months ago

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Drinking Sunsets

(Kunigami x Chigiri fanfic. "Blue Lock" is by Kaneshiro Muneyuki, and illustrated by Nomura Yusuke)

Kunigami promised Chigiri he would visit the latter during the spring break. He had been to Kagoshima during the summer because Chigiri brought him there for a week-long vacation. He had met his friend's okaa-san and his nee-chan, who came home for a week. Chigiri, too, had been to Akita because Kunigami took him there the next week, where the former was introduced the family of the latter. In fact, Kunigami was very embarrassed because his imouto and his nee-chan had openly voiced out their massive crush on Chigiri for being such a pretty boy.

In Kagoshima during the summer, Chigiri proposed they watch "One Piece" to return Kunigami's kindness. Mr. Nice Guy had always been nice to him and had always took care of him. It was time Chigiri took care of his friend. Kunigami might not have been as affable as he used to be before the Wild Card round, but he had slowly emerged out of his emo-ness, thanks to the patience of his friends, mainly Chigiri, Isagi, and Bachira.

Kunigami anticipated the four-day vacation he would be having at Kagoshima, and indeed, when he arrived, Chigiri's okaa-san prepared a feast worthy of a growing young man.

"Itadakimasu," Kunigami said before he ate.

"Hmm-mm, Rensuke-kun, enjoy the meal," Chigiri's okaa-san replied happily, putting on the table more dishes that she prepared.

"Okaa-san, please rest after lunch," Chigiri said to his okaa-san.

"Such a good boy, my Hyoma-chan," Okaa-san said before sitting down with them to eat.

After lunch, Chigiri and Kunigami washed the dishes and cleaned the kitchen.

****

"Hey, do you wanna sunset-gaze later?" Chigiri asked as they settled in his room to laze in the kotatsu.

"Why not?" Kunigami remarked. "I love watching sunsets with you."

Chigiri smiled sweetly, making Kunigami's heart dwell in warmth.

"I bought some tea because there's one tea I want you to try," the redhead said to the orange-haired guy.

"I am not one for tea, but let me try it, if you like," Kunigami said.

Here he was again, falling for the princess' whims. He could not help it. He always loved trying those simple "laidback" things that Chigiri loved. Nagi was laidback too, but he was an otaku, and Kunigami really could not relate to video games. If there were people who could, they were Isagi and Hiori.

On Chigiri's laptop was the fourth episode of the eighth season of "One Piece," as they had been catching up where they left off during the summer. Chigiri excused himself, stating he would steep some tea for the two of them, and Kunigami just nodded.

When the redhead left the room, Kunigami scooted forward, bringing part of the futon on his legs. He had no idea that Chigiri's room would still be this cold even in spring. How much more if he probably had visited here last winter? Good thing though, it was Chigiri who went with him to Akita, and they spent most of the time there catching up on "One Piece" even though they had all the time back in their dorm in Tokyo to do that.

Which was not the case because even though Ego had housed all Blue Lock and former U-20 players in one dorm, the students spent most of the time training and going to school in between. Ego had the dorm built near the Blue Lock facility out of the funds he had accumulated after the U-20 vs Blue Lock Eleven match and during the Neo Egoist League. And he had all students transfer out of their schools in their respective prefectures to go to a high school in Tokyo, mostly funded by Ego and Mikage Corporation. (So of course, the classmates were happy to have these soccer superstars in their campus. Otoya could flirt with the girls. Reo could form more networks with some of his rich classmates, and Aryu could make the classroom hallways his fashion catwalk the way he did with the dorm hallways). But because they were all busy, Kunigami and Chigiri could not binge-watch on "One Piece" despite being roommates in their two-man bedroom.

That is why they spent these breaks catching up on anime and having fun together.

Finally, Chigiri came back to the room with a tray. On the tray where two cups of hot tea, and he gingerly walked towards the kotatsu to place the tray on the table carefully. Kunigami inspected the tea and saw two different types on each cup.

"Don't touch the dark orange one," Chigiri told him. "It's black tea, and it's mine. The hibiscus tea is yours."

Kunigami cringed a bit. He was more into sweet coffee drinks.

"Does it taste bad?"

"Hibiscus tea? It's a bit sour, but I placed a bit of sugar in it," Chigiri said. "Oh, sorry, my bad. I should have brought in the whole container of sugar here."

"Nah, I'm cool with it," Kunigami said. "You probably know my level of sweetness."

He was not ready, though, for the banter that Chigiri replied with.

"Level of sweetness? You are extremely sweet and nice to me~" the redhead said and winked at him.

Kunigami felt his cheeks heating up and his insides twirling.

"N....no, it's not what I mean," he shot back at his friend in embarrassment.

Chigiri took his place beside his best friend and situated his legs under the kotatsu. He grabbed the tray closer and took the cup of hibiscus tea in front of the orange-haired guy.

"Taste it," he told him.

The anime was still ongoing on the screen, but the two were engrossed in their world of tea. Kunigami took the cup of tea from the table and smelled the tea. It smelled nice, and he thought it would probably warm his stomach as well. When he took a sip of the hibiscus tea, his eyes grew wide open.

Man, this tea's delicious even though it's hot! Though the sweetness was lesser than what he was accustomed to with his usual taste of sugary coffee, the taste of the tea was still a winner for him.

"So, how is it?" Chigiri asked, batting his eyelashes unwittingly yet prettily at his friend.

Kunigami noticed the slow and cute way Chigiri blinked. He swore, he should have told his siblings that Chigiri was off limits because they were dating (even though they weren't). He felt his cheeks warming up again that the redhead pointed it out to him.

"Uhmm... must be because the tea is hot," Kunigami lied. "But it's delicious. Less sweeter than my choice of vanilla latte, but still nice. And it tastes clean too."

"It tastes better without sugar, by the way," Chigiri said. "You can appreciate its natural taste. It's not that sour that can punch your salivary glands. Trust me."

And the redhead took a sip of his black tea while looking back at the screen of his laptop. Kunigami looked at his hibiscus tea and realized he loved the shade.

"The color's beautiful too," he pensively remarked before turning to his friend.

"What's beautiful?" Chigiri asked.

"The color of this tea is beautiful," Kunigami replied. "Just like your hair. And your eyes."

This time, it was turn for Chigiri to blush. He did not expect the remark made by his hero.

"So... you mean the color of this black tea is a darker color of your hair?" Chigiri finally came back with.

Kunigami looked at his friend fondly before nodding. He enjoyed his friend getting flustered like this. The redhead gulped his own tea in embarrassment before complaining that it was still hot.

"Calm down, Princess," Kunigami said to him tenderly. "You are unwittingly being a missy in front of me, you know?"

"Dude! I am not a girl!" Chigiri shot back with a cute pout.

But Kunigami only looked at his friend even more tenderly, making Chigiri look back at the laptop screen.

"You were better when you were still that emo semi-Barou edge lord, you know," Chigiri told him. "I was at ease because though you were so rude, you never gave me these kind of butterflies like you do now."

Kunigami let out a small smile. So, he was affecting his friend romantically?

"Do you like me, Hyoma?" Kunigami asked. "Because I really like you."

He watched his friend get flustered again, and he loved looking at the bright blush on Chigiri's cheeks. He made Chigiri even more stunned when he held the redhead's hand tight. Chigiri looked at him and blinked again.

"It's just me, Hyoma," Kunigami said in a half-whisper. "And it's still me."

Chigiri scooted closer to his friend and leaned on the latter's shoulder, for Kunigami was taller. Kunigami also felt Chigiri shifting their hands such that the latter was the one now holding his hand. While still watching Luffy's shenanigans on screen, Chigiri confessed.

"I like you too, Rensuke."

They stayed there in that romantic pose while sipping their team together with their free hands and watching the anime.

****

A little later that day, Kunigami looked at the window and turned to his friend.

"I guess it's almost sunset," he said.

The two of them shifted their position around the kotatsu so that they could watch the sunset from Chigiri's room window as it happened. Soon, the sky displayed a beautiful marriage of orange and dark pink.

"That's us," Chigiri remarked as he looked at the taller guy.

"Yeah, that's us," Kunigami said. "Sunset Couple."

He leaned closer and planted a soft kiss on the redhead's lips, with the redhead accepting it gladly and reciprocating the act.

--end--

#blue lock #blue lock manga #bllk #chigiri hyoma #bllk chigiri #kunigami rensuke #bllk kunigami #blue lock chigiri #blue lock kunigami #kunigiri #hyoma chigiri #rensuke kunigami

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inbabylontheywept · 1 year ago

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Dale of the Dales: Part 2

Dale had failed to mention that he’d made a whole spread. The shepard’s pie was there, but so was some unholy mixture of cheese and potatoes, something that looked like fried green beans, some kind of orange root that was both leaking syrup and coated with marshmallow, as well as a gel that would’ve looked more at home in a wizard’s lab than on a dinner table. It was orange for Gods’ sakes.

Aaaaaand the human was putting whipped cream on it. Wonderful.

(The pie, at least, had been divine. Alfonse could easily admit that.)

He tapped his fingers on the table nervously.

“I think I was braver a minute ago. I’m starting to realize how insane it is to talk about my late wife with someone I’ve known for two minutes.

Dale half-startled. He’d been very intently shoveling the root-mallow mixture onto his plate, and looked slightly annoyed at being interrupted.

“Hold your horses there son, I’m still servin’ myself up some-”

He froze mid-sentence as he actually processed what Alfonse just said. His face flushed red and he stopped a second time.

‘Aw hell. Sorry, my stomach got to my mouth ‘fore my brain did. Look: That’s just them negative-two drinks in ya talkin’. I’m gonna talk about my wife with someone I’ve known for two minutes, and I ain’t crazy.”

Alfonse eyed him, then the translucent orange slime, before raising an eyebrow.

Dale followed his gaze and let loose an exasperated sigh.

“Just try some, you half-pint fussbucket. I been part of caravans haulin’ crates of candied cicadas to Gnicaea. If your royal shortnesses can eat thems, you can eat these.”

“I am going to point out that those are delicacies for eccentric gnobles.”

“Yeah, and jello is a delicacy for eccentric farmers. I seen your hands Alfonse, you gonna claim you got them calluses from balancin’ budgets? Playin’ harpsichord?”

Alfonse stare met Dale’s for more intensely than the latter had been prepared for. Something about that line clearly hit a sore spot. Tension crackled in the shared gaze but Dale refused to break eye contact.

The tension melted out a little slower than it arrived. It took Alfonse’s shoulders several seconds to fully relax. When they bobbed back up, Dale braced for another surge of anger only to realize that the little man was only making the best shrug he could in his overwrought full plate.

“Alright. You’ve made your case: I’ll try this... this…”

“Jello.”

“Yes. Jello. I will have a bowl. Just a small one though, if you give me another human sized portion I am almost positive that I will puke.”

Dale grinned victoriously and busied himself getting a clean bowl from the kitchen. Alfonse took the moment alone to look over the room. His attention had divided between his food and his host, he could practically feel the breath of his first sergeant on his face, screaming at him for neglecting his surroundings.

Which, he had to confess, were beautiful. Gnomish styles were flashy, designed to display (or at least, suggest) an abundance of coin. The human style was hardly demure, but it didn’t seem to measure riches in gold or silver, but time. The materials were just simple enough, just wood, brass, and plaster, but there were no cut corners to be seen, no indication of any impatience on the craftsman’s part. The symmetry, the details, the perfectly applied finishing...They all suggested something rarely seen in gnomish construction: Love.

At once that clicked, it became hard to miss. The building itself was a love story, one he could read just by paying attention.

The walls weren’t just a flat white from the plaster, they were shimmering. Ground glass or even porcelain must’ve been added to the mix when it was still wet, a small extra cost that underlined the builders eye for detail.

Yet, even if it would’ve been beautiful bare, it was still given ornamentation: The wall in front of him was painted with a straight path running through a vale of aspens, stretching on and on before disappearing into the sunset. If he squinted at it, he could make out a feminine silhouette almost disappearing over the horizon, half buried in the sinking sun. Her arms were out in a way that made it hard to tell if she was reaching forward or beckoning back.

The simple sadness of it made his gut ache. It wasn’t hard to guess who that woman was.

Almost every wall had a scene of some kind on it. Some were simple patterns, blooms of wildflowers or geometric tessellations. Others seemed to have been made to commemorate specific events: There was a scene on the ceiling of grackles flying into the clouds, a small empty nest in the background, that he found particularly affecting. It was easily the worst fared of the bunch, the colors dim, and the paint itself cracking through in several places to reveal the plaster underneath.

“Yeah, these ain’t supposed to last more than six’er’seven years. Been closer to fifteen on that old boy but I still can’t bring myself to paint over it.”

Alfonse almost jumped out of his chair. How focused had he been, that a literal giant could walk up to him with a bowl of neon slime and still go unnoticed?

Dale ducked his head apologetically.

“Sorry, din’t mean to spook ya. I was more used to announcin’ my comin’s and goin’s when I was younger, been some long years since I could sneak up on anyone. Little folk normally got big ears, otherwise them owls getcha.”

Alfonse spent more than a few seconds preoccupied with the owl comment before deciding to focus on the painting itself.

“If you’re painting on top of plaster, why didn’t you make it a fresco? Those last for centuries.”

Dale scratched the back of his head.

“Ehh, things are at their most dead when they can’t change. Tryin’ too hard to make somethin’ last forever kills it just as fast as time woulda. Faster even. Somethin’ that lasts forever goes stagnant soon as the construction’s done. That’s the closest thing to stillborn art can get.”

He noticed the gnome’s wide eyes looking up at him in surprise and shrugged.

“And if that’s too phil’sophical forya, frescos just ain’t as bright as the direct paint is. I like bright colors. Not sure ya caught that yet.”

His eyes moved meaningfully to the fluorescent jello and Alfonse snorted. It was as jarring as any tone shift as any he’d ever heard.

“The way you leap from serious to ridiculous...Is that a Dale quirk? Or a human one?”

The giant gave him a crooked grin even as he pulled up his chair.

“You tellin’ me you’ve never gone from laughin’ to cryin’ and back again?”

Alfonse stopped a moment to mull that over.

“I have...But I think you would be surprised at how long it has been since I did either, even separately. Maybe it’s time I pushed myself a little bit.”

Dale’s ears practically cocked up, but he kept his voice even.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You’ve loosened my tongue with this vile brew-”

“-It’s just jello.”

“And now you’re going to have to sit through this old man’s story of love and loss.”

Alfonse looked at Dale for half a second longer, waiting for him to interrupt again. Content that the other man was holding his peace, he began to speak.

“Her name was-”

“Sorry, shoulda said it earlier, but if you’re a week over fifty, I’ll eat my damn hat. Old man my ass.”

And for the first time in months, Alfonse felt himself begin to laugh.

Dale of the Dales: Part 1

The Dales were home to the hillfolk, a happy people, but also the only group shorter than the gnomes. Commander Alfonse Sprocket had been prepared to discuss the surrender of Honnillee with someone quite a bit… shorter.

“Welcome, welcome, how do you do? I’m Dale Chesher, named after these self-same lands, yessiree. Something to drink?”

The situation was so surreal that he didn’t fight against the warm mug of tan liquid forced into his hand. He took a sip and winced: The tea was far too sweet, syrupy even.

Alfonse hadn’t actually met a human before this moment. Apparently, they didn’t take to the altitude of Gnicaea very well. Most of the trade the two cultures experienced came second hand from the dwarves, who were friendly enough, but prone to exaggeration. When he’d heard the dwarves talking about the scale of a human, he’d written it off as a cultural tendency to lionize their friends.

Apparently, he had failed to give his fellow mountain-folk appropriate credit. The man in front of him was easily twice his height, and thrice his breadth.

“You’re the mayor of this town?”

Dale shrugged.

“We got maybe a hundred folk down here in Honnillee, we ain’t nearly so formal as that. If someone needs to be in charge for a spell, we let em’, but it ain’t a lifelong deal. Titles go to yer head like cheese goes to yer thighs, that’s a Chesherism, free-a-charge.”

He swept a hand towards the dining room, cutting off the Commander from further interrogations.

“If you got any more questions, it’d be easier to ask them sittin’ down. If the Gods wanted me to spend my life standin’, they wouldn’t have given me such a soft ass, that’s a second Chesherism for ya. Our folk don’t dine much together, more’s the pity, so we’ve got two options so far as the table’s concerned: We got a booster chair you could use to sit at my very own personal dining set, carried all the way from the Malantai, or I could sit criss-cross-applesauce here at a table that the Midford’s lend me for the evenin’, bless their teenie-tiny hearts hearts. You’re the guest; choice is yours. ”

The avalanche of words was hard to keep up with. Worse, the man didn’t even seem to be doing it on purpose: His face was placid, almost serene, and his every movement had a sort of lazy-summer-sluggishness to it.

He could do this all night. Alfonse, on the other hand, could feel his strength draining with every moment he wore his ceremonial armor. He was supposed to come here armed to the teeth, plated in silver, an angel of war in a land of peace. He was supposed to be terrifying.

Craning his head almost forty-five degrees up just to make eye contact did not make him feel very terrifying.

Less than thrilled by the prospect of craning his neck the whole night, he weighed his options: He could accept the use of the booster seat, which would put him at eye level, although he wasn’t sure how he would manage to get up there. Perhaps a ladder would be produced? Or, if none were sturdy enough to handle him in full armor, perhaps a ramp?

Alternatively, he could use the standard size table, which would leave him with an aching neck to match everything else.

Easy choice.

“I would like to use your dining set, Master Chesher. The craftsmanship is remarka-”

He was cut off mid-sentence as Dale casually scooped him up, crossing the entire room in three easy strides before dropping him casually into the chair. The indignity of it was almost as infuriating as the casual display of strength was intimidating.

Almost.

Fear held his temper in, but it did little to curb other emotions. His mouth was desperate to say something about what had just happened, and the odd lingering smells in the upholstery of the seat gave it an outlet.

“I...Why does my chair reek of boiled peas?”

Dale shrugged, slightly embarrassed.

“Ah, well, normally this here seat is used by babs still sprouting their fangs. Boiled peas and carrots are delicacies for em’, but you know how it is when you’re feeding a ween, they wind up wearing as much as they eat! And they eat a good deal sir, a very good deal, humans don’t get this big by being dainty-like. Been a long time since I’ve had any runnin’ around the house though. Miss my little scamps.”

Ah. So this was a child’s chair. He hadn’t counted on that. He deflated in his chair before forcing himself up right again, consoling himself.

Ah hell, it wasn’t like the shock and awe had been working well anyway.

“I see. Well, Master Chesher, are you ready to discuss the details of your hamlet’s surrender?”

Dale winced.

“My boy, I done told you: I ain’t a mayor and Honnillee ain’t mine. It ain’t anyone’s. Only people with any claim to the ground near here at them that’s buried underneath it, there’s a third Chesherism for ya.”

“I am not a ‘boy’, and we’ve heard this claim from the hill-folk before. All that you’ve said is both well known, and highly contrary to how Gnicaea sees things. This document isn’t going to write itself Master Chesher, so if you would quit stalling and-”

Dale exploded up, his chair miraculously keeping its balance even as it slid across the room and slammed into the wall.

“It’s called hospitality, Alfonse, and you may not get our ways but under this roof you sure as sin are gonna respect em’! Now this is how our evenin’ is gonna go: We’re gonna eat our vittles like civilized-folk cuz I’m an old godsdamned widower and I baked you a shepard’s pie with the late wife’s recipe, first time I done touched an oven in ten years, and I cried into it thinkin’ about her, so you owe me big for that, you hear? Then, we’re gonna have two drinks apiece out on the porch because it is a nice summer evenin’ and a man can be too sober for a thing just as easily as he can be too drunk, and you sir strike me as a man that’s been two drinks too sober since he was born. We get those done, evenin’s yours. And if you even think about talkin’ any more business before those’re done, I swear, I swear, I’m gonna hang your shiny metal ass off that chandelier over there and leave you there until the sun doth rise or my house doth burn, whichever comes first. Are we clear?”

Alfonse blinked once, twice, three times. He’d been in the military a long time, climbed his way from boot camp all the way to the top. He’d been happy enough when he reached a rank where he didn’t get reamed on the daily, but it’d been so long that he’d dealt with anything besides excessive ass-kissing that he didn’t know what to do. To be honest, it was actually pretty damn refreshing.

He realized that Dale was still waiting for him to speak.

“Crystal clear, Dale. Just got one question for you.”

The human glared at him, suspicious as he’d ever been.

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“Does it get any easier?”

Dale’s face twisted up in confusion.

“Does what get any easier? Bein’ an old grump? Every damn day.”

Alfonse scratched the back of his head. Yeah, that hadn’t been a very clear question.

“No. Being a widower.”

There was a pause as Dale searched his face for any sign of lying, even a hint of manipulation.

He couldn’t find any, and the suspicion gave way into a begrudging sympathy.

“Ah. No. You just get stronger. Gimme a moment, this’ll be easier to talk about while eatin’ pie.”

Alfonse nodded, watching as the giant left. He was surprised at how empty the room felt without him. They’d barely been talking for two minutes, and he already felt closer to this stranger than he’d felt with anyone back home in years.

He had a moment to think back on how the dwarves described humans, beyond just their height, and couldn’t help but marvel at the accuracy. To think that this was the one thing you could trust a dwarf to be honest about. What was the phrase that he’d heard at the tavern, all those years ago...

Humans bond with strangers like they’re friends, friends like they're family, and family more than life.

He wondered where he stood on that list. It'd been a while since he'd had a friend.

#fantasy #writing #creative writing #gnomes #the gnome puns in this get pretty egregious #gnicea? come on #and at some point I reference gnobles #humanity fuck yeah #humans are space orcs #except somethings they're just ground orcs #hfy #i like the idea of giants having southern accents

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doyumacy · 4 years ago

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RIDE OUT - 9

ʏᴜᴛᴀ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ x ᴍᴀʀᴋ ʟᴇᴇ

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: ꜱᴍᴜᴛ, ᴅʀᴀᴍᴀ, ᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴ

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ꜱᴜɢɢᴇꜱᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴛᴀʟᴋ, ʟᴀɴɢᴜᴀɢᴇ

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ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ: @coffee-prince-kyungsoo@xcharlottemikaelsonx@marksquare@tomorrowxforever@yoongsicles @neococo7 @angels-from-california @ahgastayzen @hiraarri @uhyikesbro

"yes yes yes yes," you moan as yuta eats you out.

"y/n, you look amazing. your face flushed, your lips as red as cherries, and your pussy, well i have no words for that." your face flushes even more from the compliment.

yuta adds a third finger and you roll your eyes. "fuck, i'm gonna cum." you whine.

"come for us, baby," you hear mark whispering in your ear. “let us see how beautiful you look when you cum.”

you wake up startled. your forehead is full of sweat and your hair is sticking to the back of your it. you swallow slowly as you sit on the bed and try to control your breathing. you don’t even realise you are panting.

what the hell was that? why is your mind tricking you in that way and making you have wet dreams about these two men? as if it isn’t hard enough.

you run a hand through your hair and get up from the bed going downstairs. it seems that johnny and jisung aren’t up yet. you need to focus on something else or your mind won’t stop replaying your steamy dream, and that’s the last thing you need right now.

you make breakfast and then get ready to open the shop. luckily, jungwoo has arrived earlier and he has already opened. you enter the shop and spot jaehyun talking to jungwoo about some switches.

“good morning,” you mutter.

jaehyun turns, surprised as if he isn’t expecting you. jungwoo smiles at you. “you're early today, y/n.”

“couldn’ts sleep,” you shrug and walk next to jaehyun. “i recommend the red one. it’s a better fit for your car.” you tell jaehyun.

he nods. “thanks.” he rubs his nape. “do you think we can talk?”

“i’ll be… at the office,” jungwoo gives you privacy and locks himself in the small office.

you turn your face to jaehyun. “what do you need?”

jaehyun sighs and rests his hands on the counter. “i didn’t know anything about it. i found out he was alive like almost two months ago…” he scrunches his face. “i’m sorry.”

you slowly nod. “i know.”

jaehyun frowns. “hold on, you’re not gonna yell at me or something?”

“you want me to yell at you?” you ask him.

“no, but… i thought you hated me and didn’t want to be my friend anymore,” jaehyun exhales in relief.

“dude, i had your dick in my mouth,” you remind him. “nothing can beat that.”

jaehyun laughs. “so, are we good?”

“yeah,” you reply to him. “but if you ever lie to me again i will chop off your balls.”

“you are a sadist.”

“stop whining and come here,” you open your arms.

jaehyun goes around the counter and hugs you. “i also knew you wouldn’t last too much time upset at me.”

you squint your eyes and look at him when he pulls away. “i can still regret it.”

“you won’t, and you know why? because i am your best friend and you need to rant about the situation,” he beams proudly.

“well, you’re right,” you murmur. “my mind is fucking me up and i don’t know what to do.”

jaehyun wraps an arm around your shoulder. “listen, y/n, fuck your mind. listen to your heart, does it beat faster when you see mark or when you see yuta?”

“beats pretty much in the same way for both,” you groan. “i’m even having wet dreams with them, jaehyun!” you rest your head on his shoulder. “i’m sick.”

“well, my advice is go poly!” he smiles and you stare at him. “yeah, never mind. that wouldn’t work. yuta is too possessive.”

“i just remembered why i never ask you for advice,” you sigh.

jaehyun giggles. “you want me to be real honest?” you nod. “you like mark and maybe there are more feelings there involved, but how do you feel about yuta? you might still have feelings for him?”

you pinch your nose. “it’s… complicated? weird? i mean, i never felt like that for anyone before. yuta is… the love of my life?”

jaehyun shrugs. “could be yes, but that doesn’t mean he’s your only love of your life. you still can have one more, or two, or three…”

“could you please run me over?” you sigh dramatically.

jaehyun chuckles. “y/n, i’m serious. you need to make your mind up before someone gets hurt.”

“that doesn’t help either,” you groan, pushing him away.

you are walking down the santa monica pier with mark at your side. after he picked you up that afternoon, he told you he'd take you to your favorite place. you never revealed him that, but replied he got a little help from jisung.

you are walking close together, shoulders brushing. and mark desperately wants to hold your hand. he ends up taking your hand into yours and you smile slightly squeezing his hand.

“the sun is setting.” you say. mark drags his eyes away from you and focuses on the water. the way the waves move toward the skyline.

the sunset reflects onto the water, pinks, oranges, and purples all blending with blue. It’s beautiful.

“it’s breathtaking.” he states, turning his head to look back at you.

“yeah. it's my favorite part of the day," you say, sounding awed. mark smiles at you, big and lopsided.

“i feel the same way,” he confesses, staring at you.

you blush and decide to avoid his eyes. you two stand there in silence for a while, holding hands. once it’s nearly dark, mark and you walk to the pacific park entrance and he smiles looking at the colorful roller coaster. “let’s ride it.”

"that looks,” you pause as you look up and watch the cart fly along the metal, the occupants all screeching with excitement as they were flipped upside down and around sharp curves, “interesting.”

"come on!" he takes your hand, yanking you towards the line.

how are you supposed to say to mark you're scared of roller coaster and you have never rode one? but you can't. he looks so excited and so thrilled about it that your heart melts.

you don't have to wait long before you are next to load onto the cart. mark looks over and sees that you are biting your bottom lip as the previous passengers file out of their seats.

“y/n, you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to,” mark looks at you.

“no, I want to do this.”

“good,” mark nods, “because it’s our turn.”

mark helps your with placing the seatbelt on, laughing when he realizes that you never wear a seatbelt when you drive but somehow you trust it. when the ride operators come around and pushes the metal bar onto your laps, you squint down at it and tilted your head.

“do they really expect this to stop us from falling out?” you whisper and yank on the bar a couple times, making the whole cart shake.

“come on baby, you know about physics,” mark reaches over and places one hand on top of you to stop the shaking.

"i know nothing about physics," you frown, looking at him.

"you do," he holds your hand. "just relax, baby. if we fall, we won't know."

you groan and squeeze at his hand. "i'm gonna yank your hair off."

mark chuckles and when the car begins moving forward, the grip that you have on the bar tightens. you begin creeping up the first hill, and mark looks over at you to try and calm your nerves.

“why don't you ride roller coasters?”

you rub your forehead. “my best friend died on a roller coaster. this shit collapsed and she died."

"oh shit, y/n... i'm sorry," mark stares at you and groans. "fuck, i'm sorry. i'll talk to guys so we can get off ri-"

mark stops talking when he sees you laughing and throw your head back. he cocks an eyebrow. "what's so funny, baby?"

"i'm shitting on you, mark," you wipe your eyes.

mark squints his eyes and pulls away from you. the roller coaster stops once you're on the highest point. you refuse to look down because you don't want to see the sea and how tall you are. mark slightly moves, making the cart move. you hiss at him. "stop, mark."

"what?" he smiles at you, moving again.

you whine and you grip at the bar. "mark!" you groan. "stop it or i swear to god i'm gonna run your over with my car."

mark laughs and he comes near you. "you're so cute when you get mad."

"and i'll get cuter when i chop off your balls," you stare at him.

he pouts. "truce?"

"fine. but dinner's on you."

after leaving the pier, mark takes you to his favorite restaurant. he then takes you home and parks right outside. he turns to you and smirks. "i had a great time."

"yeah well, wish i could i say the same," you joke.

mark laughs and leans to give you a kiss. you kiss him back and he grabs your jaw to kiss you better. you pull away and smile tilting your head to the side. "just a simple kiss for you, lee."

mark nods. "as my girl wishes."

you roll your eyes. "you can be very cheesy sometimes, did you know?"

"yep." he winks at you.

you sigh. "i can't stand you."

"too bad. you're already so into me."

"just... go home, mark." you giggle and give him a final kiss. he nods and kisses you back. "text me when you get there."

(...)

on a saturday night, doyoung ask you, no, demands you to be at a party he's throwing. you don't want to go, but you can't risk screwing yuta's plan.

you arrive at the party’s locations and you find some known faces. you spot doyoung talking to a red haired man and you assume he’s his friend. you turn around, walking through the drunk and high people dancing. you have a cup in your hand, but you’re not drinking. you need to keep your head clear in case something happens.

as you’re trying to make your way to the bar so you can take a seat, you meet with someone’s chest. you look up and your eyes wide open. it’s jisung.

what the hell is he doing there?

“what in the world are you doing here?” you hiss at him.

“my friend invited me,” he shrugs.

“are you stupid, jisung?” you look at him. “this is doyoung’s party!”

“w-what?” he stutters. “i didn’t know. my friend just told me to come, but i can’t find her anywhere.”

“tell your… friend you had to go.” you advise him. “please. i don’t want doyoung to see you.”

“too late.”

“why?” you frown.

“he’s walking to us.”

you suddenly feel an arm around your shoulders and doyoung pulls you closer to him. he smiles. “who is this young man, y/n?”

you gulp. “he’s my uhm… my brother.”

doyoung smiles looking at jisung and extends his hand. “nice to meet you. i’m doyoung.”

jisung looks at you and then eyes doyoung’s hand. he slightly shakes it. “hi. i uhm… i’m jisung.”

“jisung.” doyoung nods. “i’ll remember that name.”

you remove doyoung’s arm and get away from him. “we’re actually leaving.”

“already?” doyoung cocks an eyebrow. “but the party just started.”

“i have homework,” jisung suddenly says.

“homework?” doyoung laughs. “okay. young kid needs to finish his tasks.”

“thanks for having me,” you tell doyoung. “see you later.”

“uhm… g-goodbye.” jisung mutters.

you take jisung by the arm and walk out of the party. you both are shaking but try to act as nonchalant as possible.

doyoung watches you two leave and when he feels someone’s presence next to him, he doesn’t even flinch. “told you he’d come.”

doyoung takes a bale of cash and hands them to the person standing next to him. “how did you convince him?” he turns to them.

“he’s a man,” the person fixes their hair. “a bit of flirting and he was ready to leave his family.”

doyoung nods. “yves, right?”

“yes.”

“nice job. i’ll see you around.”

(...)

the days go by and you and johnny come to the agreement that jisung will not leave the house until the situation is fixed, as it is very risky and doyoung knows about his existence, although he still does not know the identity of 'jwi'.

one night, after mark drops you off he decides to walk to the door and when you two are having a mini make out session, yuta decides to show up.

the sensation you get is confusing. you feel you're cheating on yuta and that makes you feel guilty. but you also like mark, and the more you spend time with him, the more feelings you get for him.

on the other hand, you keep having dreams where the three of you are together and you hate it.

you slightly pull away from mark and look at yuta. he only stares at you. "good evening."

you press your lips together and mark's grip on your waist tightens. "is johnny inside?"

you nod. "yes. you can come in."

yuta shakes his head. "can you tell him i'm outside please? i just need to give him something."

"okay. i'll be right back," you murmur.

you get into your house looking for johnny. mark leans against the wall, with his hands inside his jeans pockets. yuta looks everywhere but at him and it's uncomfortable.

an awkward situation.

"so..." yuta breaks the silence. "you dating my wife."

mark stares at him and blinks. "yeah."

yuta nods, slowly crossing his arms on his chest. "enjoy the time you still have left with her."

mark scoffs, almost laughing. "you're that insecure you need to threat me? you need to work harder, buddy."

"you're allowed to think whatever you want, mark," yuta shrugs. "y/n loves me. don't tell me you don't see it."

"i don't because i'm sure about her feelings towards me," mark smiles.

"please mark, you'll end up believing she's over me and hurt yourself," yuta tilts his head to the side. "i'd recommend you to walk away for once."

"i'm not the type that walks away," mark spits, looking at him.

you and johnny show up at the door and johnny greets yuta. he hands him a black usb and tells him he needs to go. he approaches you and kiss your cheek goodbye. yuta smiles at you and before he turns around to leave, he winks at you. mark rolls his eyes and johnny feels awkwardly trapped.

mark says goodbye seconds later but he gives you a kiss on the mouth, making johnny feel more uncomfortable. his eyes go everywhere, trying to avoid the scene of you kissing mark. it's gross.

"okay, get a room now. i can see the tongues from here," johnny makes a disgusted face.

"goodnight, baby. sleep tight." mark kisses your forehead.

"you too," you smile at him.

mark says goodbye to johnny and you watch him get into his car. once you and Johnny are back inside the house, johnny rubs his cheek. "girl, you need to do something about it."

"about what?" you ask him.

"about the two desperate dicks that were outside minutes ago," johnny scoffs. "didnt you feel the tension between those two? i thought they would start beating each other at any second."

"I don't want to talk about it," you state.

"you always avoid talking about it, but you eventually will have to choose one." johnny cocks an eyebrow. "or maybe convince them to start a relationship with the three of you."

"you're so annoying, johnny. just... go away." you wave a hand to shoo him away.

"you can shoo me away but you know you need to choose one." he shrugs. "it's not fair and you know it."

you sigh. "i know."

#yuta nakamoto #yuta smut #yuta imagine #nct yuta #yuta x reader #mark lee smut #mark lee imagine #mark lee x reader #mark lee #nct smut #nct 127 #nct 127 smut

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bleachhaven · 4 years ago

Note

Could you make a scenario for Shunsui where he and his s/o are having a date, maybe under the trees, and it ends in some smut, please?

Under the tree with Kyoraku Shunsui (smut & fluff)

When you came home in the evening after a day of hard work at your own Squad, Shunsui was nowhere to be found. This wasn’t exactly unusualsince he became the Sotaichou. Unlike before, Nanao didn’t even have to force him to work. He took his responsibility quite seriously. Well, as seriously as Shunsui could.

It was fair to say, it had been quite some time since you two managed to spend some quality time together without being interrupted with some kind of crisis. You knew it would eventually settle down, so you didn’t bother him about any of it. He already had so much on his plate. You were just glad he got home at some point in the night at least on most nights to cuddle you in his sleep.

Which is why, what was on the bed took you completely by surprise.

Your pink yukata that Shunsui loved to see on you was laid out with a simple note. “Meet me under the tree at sundown.”

He didn’t have to specify which tree. You knew exactly which one. Back in the day, when he used to hide from Nanao, he’d find you reading under the big willow and settle down for a midafternoon nap, resting his head on your lap. Often, Nanao would find him quite easily. After all, he was a creature of habit when it came to you. Looking into your pleading eyes, Nanao would leave you two alone for a few more moments.

So with a smile on your face, you took a nice warm shower, lathering shampoo that smelled of vanilla which Shun always said made him want to eat you right up. The whole thing had you giddy with anticipation. It almost felt like you were getting ready for your very first date, even though you’d been together for what would seem like a lifetime now.

When you reached the tree, he was staring out to the horizon at the sky taking on beautiful hues of oranges and pinks. He sensed your reiatsu easily and turned to look at you. “_____-chan,” he said offering a smile.

He made quite the picture. Tall and handsome, with his pink haori billowing against the wind. You were so taken by him that it took you a minute to notice the lavish picnic laid out underneath the tree.

“What’s all this?” you asked, a smile taking over your whole face. It made his day to see you smile like that.

“Now, now, petal. Can’t a man watch a pretty sunset with his prettier ______-chan?” he asked sidling up to you and giving you a quick kiss upon the lips.

You shook your head at his words but you still couldn’t stop smiling. “A man can,” you admitted. “But can the Sotaichou afford to play hooky like this?”

He grinned, making him look like a carefree boy rather than a captain over a millennia old. “After all I must stay true to myself,” he teased. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t sacrifice to be with you.”

You couldn’t help but laugh because now you knew exactly what happened. “So you sacrificed Nanao-chan to all the paperwork?”

“Believe it or not, she actually insisted.” He took your hand in his and led you to sit down. He took up most of the space in the blanket. After all, he was quite a big man. But it also meant you had something sturdy to lean on always. And that’s exactly what you did. “I’ve been so busy with everything that’s been happening that I fear I’ve been neglecting you.”

“You know I understand, Shun,” you reassured him, teasingly feeding him a grape. “I know I am always on your mind even if you’re drowning in responsibilities.” Rather than take the whole grape in his mouth, he bit into it, getting the juices everywhere. His tongue swept out to lick your fingers clean.

“You have no idea just how much I think of you,” he said, the mischievous glint in his eyes letting you know exactly what kind of thoughts distracted him.

Both of you settled in to enjoy the little feast that was laid out, feeding each other a variety of cheeses and fruits, and indulging in a healthy dose of sake that had you feeling quite relaxed. The sun set over the horizon, basking you both in golden hue.

“I think you forgot the chocolate for desert,” you informed him when your thorough search revealed so.

He took the sake out of your hand and placed it carefully away on the other side of the blanket. “Well, petal,” he said leaning over you in such a way that he had you flat on your back far too easily. “I had a whole different kind of dessert in mind.”

“Shunsui!” you gasped. “Anyone can see us and walk in!”

“I wouldn’t be too worried about that,” he insisted.

He was probably right. Who in their right minds would interrupt the Sotaichou for anything? The new job definitely had its unique perks. Then his lips descended on you making sure you had no mind to worry about anything at all.

This was no peck in greeting, or a quick kiss goodbye. When Shunsui got serious, he kissed you like he truly meant it. Like you truly were his favorite dessert and he meant to devour you. And tonight, he seemed ravenous.

His lips nibbled at you. His tongue explored your mouth in a mimic of things he wanted to do to you. His hands smoothed over your yukata to hold you by the hips, angling you to be in just the position he wanted you to be.

You weren’t one to stay still yourself. Your hands moved to his chest, the roughness of the smattering of hair tickling your hands on their way to wind around his neck. Your fingers held on to the hair at his nape and pulled a bit, making him moan into your mouth.

You’d think it would be a quickie at least the first time around. It’s been quite a while since you had time to do this. It was already driving you crazy, making you raise your hips to get any sort of friction you could.

But Shunsui was agonizingly slow. He always was. He didn’t like to rush in anything, and that definitely applied to his lovemaking. He loved taking his time with you, exploring your body and enticing all your senses as if it was still the first time.

“You smell good enough to eat,” he murmured as he always does, putting a lazy smile on your face. Then he moved his lips to your neck and proceeded to do just that.

Quicker than you could comprehend, he had your yukata open and out of the way, baring you to him. Nibbles and open mouthed kisses had your nipples pebbling in attention, which he appreciated with a hum. Then he drifted downward.

“Shunsuiiiiiii,” you moaned.

He looked up, his eyes peering up at you from his position in between your legs. “I meant what I said, Petal. Good enough to eat.” And he proceeded to show you exactly what he meant.

The man was definitely skilled at using his mouth to make you forget your own goddamn name. He had you coming on his tongue in no time at all.

While you tried to catch your breath, he licked his lips, and grinned at you. “Delicious.”

And you couldn’t take it anymore. With a small growl, you reached up and pushed down his haori. “I need you, Shun. Now!” you said, the last word ending almost in a whine, leaving no doubt as to exactly what you wanted.

Shunsui wasted no time in complying at all. He entered you so slowly, making you feel every single inch of him. It had you both moaning. With age old practice, your bodies knew just what pace to take. He thrust in and out, driving you both insane with need, chasing for completion.

You reached up to him, needing to feel closer to him. With one of his hands gently cupping your face, and the other bracing himself near your head to make sure the full weight of his body didn’t crush you, he kept moving in you. The position had him deeper than ever, and every thrust in and out had him deliciously rubbing his chest all over yours, heightening the sensations to an unimaginable level.

It was erotic and romantic at the same time.

He picked up the pace, knowing just how close you were from the way you moaned.

When you both came apart, reaching the peak, it felt like you were so close you might as well have been a part of each other.

He slowly moved over to lie beside you, and pulled his pink haori over you both to protect you from the chill of the night.

“I really missed you, petal,” he said softly as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. As if your entire hair hadn’t come undone thanks to him having his way with you. Then he planted a kiss upon your forehead, and your nose, and finally upon your lips.

“You’re such an old sap, Sotaicho,” you teased him.

His arms wrapped around you, bringing you closer to him and his heat enveloped you. “I am your old sap,” he murmured gently as you both drifted off, sated and happy.

- - -

My ask box is now open!

Send in your requests please. I will take my time with it, but I will eventually get to them.

And check out more of my work through the Masterlist here!

#bleach headcanons #bleach imagines #bleach fanfiction #Shunsui Kyoraku #Kyoraku Shunsui #shunsui kyoraku x reader #bleach #bleach anime #smut #fluff

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captainsimagines · 3 years ago

Text

To Topple A Giant || Finale

Summary: You had made it your mission to destroy even the smallest evils. When the opportunity arises to finally take down your own family after years of gaining their trust, you reach for it. And so does Steve, the man who represents a symbol of everything you hate.

Pairing(s): Steve Rogers x Reader || Avengers x Reader

Part 10 of 10 ~ Mini-Series

Warnings in this Chapter: strong language; slight reference to past sexual abuse; fluff

Word Count: 6,700+

Author’s Note: Guys... the finale! I’m crying actual tears lmao. Thank you for reading my words. It means the world.

The New Compound, July 2025, 7:09pm

The extra hour of sunlight this time of year was the easiest excuse to use for lounging on the roof to watch the sun set slowly. The compound no longer touches the clouds, but it still provides a rich view of the landscape across. There is no blowing of horns or shouts of the road hecklers; it’s a simple hour of solace to rest your chin against your arms, eat your snacks, and watch the sky change colors until nothing remains but the possibility of counting the stars.

“Hey… can I sit here?”

Your heart does a little jump at the sound of his voice. Traitor, you want to say to the pesky organ, but remain quiet as Steve wanders over to stand by you. He’s close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from his body.

“Do what you will, Captain.” It’s simple enough of a response, you figure. You look down at the granola bar in your hand, turning it over a few times before rolling your eyes at the silly gesture. “Granola bar?”

He nods, watching as you snap it in half, and grabs the piece. “Thanks.”

You eat in cooperative silence. You take small bites, saving the granola bar so you have something to focus on during the length of time Steve decides to stay up here. He seems to be doing the same. “So what brings you out here? Another depressive episode?”

“I happen to have the perfect amount of depressive episodes, thank you very much.”

You snort, “Ditto.”

He takes a small bite and rolls the granola over his tongue. “No, I uh… I actually came out here to watch the sunset.”

“That’s sweet.” You shrug and admit your reason to him without a second thought. “I came out here to be sad, so.”

“Thor’s visit isn’t doing you any good?”

Thor is genuinely looking better. He’s started braiding his hair again, exercising with the help of Quill and Bruce, and participating in conversation without being addressed first. Seeing him makes you happy, but there’s still a glint in his eyes that reminds you of the lowest point of his life. And his lowest point was also yours. Sometimes you just want to forget. “He looks better. Healthier, got some light back in his eyes. It’s just whenever we look at each other we think of the same thing, I guess.”

Steve hums low and his shoulder brushes yours. “Loki.”

“It’s good to reminisce and all but I’ve got my limits,” you say.

“What was the special connection between you and Loki anyway?”

You grin at such an innocent question. Steve had never been close to Loki, didn’t really like him much, but he tolerated the God wandering about. You figure he genuinely wants to know. “I met him a little bit before I was assaulted. Everyone in the compound had their suspicions but no one asked. It was like they were avoiding me but also trying to help, I don’t really know. It was a weird time. And Loki, after we caught that dragon thing and really, really properly met, just straight up asked me why I was so distant all of a sudden.” Your chest warms at the memory. “I told him. And you know what the first thing he said to me was?”

Steve shakes his head a little and his eyes follow the tilt of your mouth. “‘What a cunt’.”

He startles himself into a laugh, the rough word not expected. You continue, “It was the first time I laughed in four months.”

Steve follows your gaze out to the sunset. He suddenly feels guilty, out of the loop, sad. You had only mentioned your assault to him once when you discovered Tony’s afterlife gifts, and he never brought it up again. “I’m sorry I didn’t notice you were-”

“Bucky had just moved into the tower and all of your attention was on him. I don’t blame you for not seeing me.”

It’s true, but Steve doesn’t forgive himself. He’s had two years to check up on you and because of his own selfish choice, he’s let you slip from his fingers. A question bubbles from the back of his mind — one that he doesn’t think twice about finally asking. If he does, he won’t ask. “Do you miss… me?”

“That’s a stupid question.”

“Sam put the idea in my head and—”

You sigh, “Steve, it’s the fact that he had to put the idea in your head. I can lie and say I’ve been all fine and dandy, or I can tell the truth and say I’ve been all fine and dandy. Take your pick.”

Steve stares at you for a long moment, mouth parting around invisible words. You’re staring at the sunset, avoiding his gaze but aware of his eyes on you, and he misses you. He truly, terribly, misses you. He decides he’s got nothing more to lose — he’s already lost you. “Well, I miss you. Do with that what you will.”

The two of you sit in silence for a few minutes: wind in your ears, legs shifting when too much weight has been applied, tiny sniffs of the nose. You don’t really know what to do with that information. Steve misses you. And you miss him. But he doesn’t deserve to know that. There’s been no apology from him, just things he’ll do to appease Sam.

At the three minute mark, you groan quietly and turn to him. “Are you seriously still going to watch the sunset up here?”

Steve smirks and watches you from his peripheral. He really has missed being on the receiving end of your various tones of voices. “I have been told that I’m impossible to get rid of, so yeah.”

His company isn’t all that bad.

Present Day, 2025, 9:07am

Perhaps there were good things that came from being locked up for over two weeks, alone. Last time you were locked up with the team and there was absolutely no special treatment after that. Now you’re resisting the urge to burst out laughing as Steve piles on the seventh massive pancake on your plate; or rolling your eyes as Sam keeps asking if you want more maple syrup — ‘What flavor? We’ve got six!’ — and Peter’s drowning Bucky with questions about who he encountered at the wedding.

“Is it the same as Netflix Narcos?”

“No,” you say bluntly.

“Is the Amazon series legit? Like, did Omar really kill the DEA agent?”

“No.”

“Is Omar as evil as they say?”

“No.”

“Damn,” Peter groans, piling a forkful of pancakes into his mouth. “Nothing’s as exciting as it seems, huh?”

Everyone looks to him, then to each other.

Steve clears his throat, “I was literally shot.”

Mouth full, you follow. “And I was abused for years.”

“And I had to deal with them while with HYDRA,” Bucky says with his mouth full too.

“Man, they shot at me. That counts,” Sam adds.

“And I finally got to use the shield. While being shot at,” Scott says.

You interject, “Technically I was being shot at.”

Even with such a cloud of violence, with gruesome memories — memories that would just be shoveled into the pile of things that no one is ever going to talk about again — you all begin laughing. Poor Peter missed out on a lot, but he can put two and two together. He knows this is his only chance to ask before you all lock it away and call it just another mission. It doesn’t hurt to humor him.

And even though you won’t mention it to any one else unless they ask — this wasn’t just another mission for you or Steve. Things have changed and the both of you know it. The aches within your chest are no longer negative or a bother, but instead are blooming flowers that have laid dormant for years. You’ve been plucking petals for as long as the two of you can remember, and it’s about damn time you both end up on the same page.

Everything has been quiet. Sure, there are bounties on everyone’s head but when is there not? You’ve pissed off more cartel leaders and gang leaders and political enemies than you can count on two hands, so this enemy territory is not all that foreign. You recognize the high trees, the gray skies, the mud beneath your boots. But you’ve got friends on your team that know how to climb those trees; friends on your team that know how to move the clouds and make the sky the talk; friends on your team that would hump through mud and snow watching your six.

You can’t believe you even thought about leaving after the mission in the first place. This is where you belong, where all of you belong, because you’re the only ones with good hearts who qualify for the job.

As breakfast winds down, Steve takes the opportunity to sprinkle in moments of long-awaited public displays of affection. When you go to refill your orange juice, he sneaks a kiss on your cheek. When you go to wash your plate, he makes sure Peter is looking the other way before patting your ass. And when you’re the one to envelope his slim waist from behind, he melts in your combined warmth.

“So, about our date,” Steve inquires, cheeks turning pink but voice unwavering. He looks brand new, refreshed, and there’s a shine in his eyes that you haven’t seen since forever. You can’t remember the last time you have, but you figure it must have been back when the world hadn’t yet swallowed him whole. Now, he’s burning bright with the youth his soul has missed.

You jump up and down, “Ooo, exciting!”

Steve takes you by the waist, swinging you in every direction. It’s uncoordinated, messy, and not exactly dancing but it’s pure. “Chinese? Pizza? Just fries?”

“¿Por qué no los tres?” Pursing your lips, you wait for his answer.

“That can be arranged.”

You gasp dramatically, “You’re spoiling me.”

“Well I have two years to make up for it.”

That startles a laugh from deep inside your chest. “That’s gonna be our inside joke now, huh? Two of the worst years of our lives and we’re joking about it.”

He blushes along with you. “I think that describes our relationship perfectly.”

“Our relationship…” Your voice comes out like a melodic whisper and Steve feels it in his bones.

He grins down at you but before he can respond, someone enters the common room rather cautiously.

“Oh, now what the hell are you doing here?” Steve demands, pushing you to stand behind him. The gesture is nice, but completely unnecessary. Friday would have alerted the team if someone entered the grounds armed.

Agent Kavert raises his hands, “Relax. I’m not here to arrest you or anything.”

Steve tries to move his shoulders in a way where Agent Kavert can’t see your head. But you maneuver around him, somehow ending up peeking your head through Steve’s underarm. “If I know the law, and I think I do, you can’t really arrest someone in their own house anyway, right?” You pat Steve repeatedly on his side. “Right?”

Before Steve can respond, Agent Kavert speaks. With Steve guarding you, it seems the only thing Agent Kavert wants to do is get in and get out as fast as he can. “I just came to apologize. Ballistics came back and the evidence does show that you didn’t kill Ernesto Vega. It was Ramirez’s issued gun.”

Yeah, you think. The gun Seda stole.

“Oh, what a breath of relief! I almost forgot I was there.”

He sighs and his lips pull into a small smile. “You’re not gonna tell me where Ramirez is, huh?”

Steve takes this as his cue to leave you two alone, but not before squeezing your hand on his way out. He nods over to Peter, who’s still crouching in the kitchen, unseen by Kavert. Peter gives him an enthusiastic thumbs up, happy to spy for his Captain. But you know he’s really asking Peter to take care of you while he’s gone.

You let out a heavy sigh. Omar has been wanted for years for another murder he didn’t even commit. And now, he’s wanted for another. He may be a giant with morals, but even he can’t escape the gruesome reality that plagues the wicked.

“I don’t even know where he is. If you came looking for answers—”

“No, I just… Everything’s been so fucked up since half the universe came back. And the possibility of an Avenger being bad, having played us for years — I think it just scared a lot of people.” Agent Kavert actually looks sincere. He adjusts his footing and chuckles a little under his breath. There’s a fine line creasing his forehead, but it isn’t formed from stress. He’s smiling, an honest look, and his eyebrows pull inward. “And Shakespeare? Really?”

Rolling your eyes, you shrug and lean back against the counter. “When half the world disappears and takes your family and friends with it, there’s really not much else to do.”

And besides, Loki was really into Shakespeare.

You continue, deciding at the last second to throw Agent Kavert a bone about your past. “Shield didn’t know but Nick Fury did. So did Pierce. And when Shield fell, Fury just hid it even more.” You give him a half smile. “We weren’t helping the cartel. We were slowly taking it apart.”

Agent Kavert nods, thinking it over. “The deal Jackeline made with us was pretty simple. She’d tell us all the inside secrets that she knew and in exchange, no charges against her and none so serious for you.”

Your shoulders slump and you shoot him a blank stare. “Was it really that simple? Like, I could have just used her as my one free call?”

“Joke all you want. You should have called us when Shield fell. The double agent thing was risky and everyone needs help taking down a giant like that.”

“I did have help. Involving more people was never planned.”

“He was just as much our mission as he was yours.”

Agent Kavert, as sorry as he looks, still doesn’t seem to get it. But that’s fine, you think. Not everyone can. And you’re not in the mood to argue anymore. “No… he wasn’t.”

He seems to read your mind because he simply accepts your answer. “I really am sorry for accusing you. And for the government arresting you alone and letting the white man go free.”

A tiny snort tickles your nostrils. Agent Kavert is white, and it’s even more amusing considering he’s being serious. “Thanks… I guess.”

He turns to leave, seemingly normal, until he spins on his heel and claps his hands. “Oh! And by the way — don’t leave the country. The charges of conspiracy and murder have all been dropped. But there’s evidence of drug smuggling. So, you’re on house arrest.”

Your eyes widen and you reply with a sarcastic yell. “Thanks!” He turns to leave again. “You’re fucking with me, right?”

He glances over his shoulder, “Could not have let you just get away with it. Some of that smuggling was under no order from Shield at all.”

“You know I can easily disable that ugly ass ankle bracelet you’re about to give me?”

He chuckles low, and finally waves goodbye. “Goodbye, Agent Y/LN.”

You stand dumbfounded, slightly annoyed, but you figure it’s better than actual jail time. Peter rises from his hiding spot and walks over to you, blowing air from his mouth. “Friend of yours?”

You whip around to point a finger, scream and laugh mixing into one. “No friend!”

Peter finally hears that accent Steve can’t stop talking about.

It’s a tiny portrait, sealed in a tiny frame and hidden in a tiny room. The frame is black with professional wooden carvings that make the sides look like perfectly detailed tree trunks. It’s in between the portrait of Tony and Natasha’s bracelet. Tony wears the same AC/DC shirt Steve has somehow stolen and claimed as his own. He’s got this sarcastic grin, some type of wrench in one hand while his other rests on his hip. He stands in his lab, glasses pushed up onto his head and black soot smudged on his cheek. You think Peter snapped the photo back in 2017.

But the middle portrait is your favorite. It’s the only photo he ever allowed to be taken of him. Brushing your index finger against the glass, you trace the small outlines of Loki’s jawline, to his thin pink lips, to the bulb of his nose, to the waves of his hair. He sits caught off guard, book in his hand and in regular human clothing. He shoots a rather annoyed but joyful look over his shoulder as the camera was shoved in his face. You know for sure Wanda took that photo.

“You’re not dead,” you say as you study the blue of his frozen eyes. A God doesn’t die, you remember him saying. Loki was wrong about a lot of things, but you pray he wasn’t wrong about this. There’s a small part of you that wants to speak the same words to Tony and Natasha, but there’s only so many times the world’s axis can shift for a miracle. You tap the glass, sighing a breath of acceptance, and finally let go. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Smiling up at the ceiling, you think you’re right about this one.

It’s quiet. The only sounds are the mild ripping of wrapping paper and small ‘thank you’s’ from the team. Everyone got each other something — granted, everyone got something small for everyone. No matter how much Tony joked about still splurging on Christmas shopping, his promises weren’t exactly kept. He’s gotten everyone things they actually need or wanted. Steve, a new drawing pad; Natasha, a bright pink knit sweater; Rhodey, a new watch; Bruce, a pair of sunglasses; Nebula, a dark blue knitted sweater that she immediately presses against her cheek, eyes focused on the ground as she savors the soft brush; you, the full collection of Shakespeare's plays and sonnets. And he finally presents the baby’s crib to Pepper, constructed three weeks after she originally asked him to.

“I know how much you like to reenact A Midsummer Night’s Dream in your room,” Tony grins at you. Biting your bottom lip, you throw yourself at him and hug him tight. He returns the hug with just as much strength, if not more.

As the night goes on and midnight rings, your small group exchanges tight-lipped merry Christmas’s and happy holidays. Natasha retires to her room, a distant look in her eyes as she says goodnight. No one knows where Clint is.

Steve nudges your elbow with his once the room empties. He holds out a box with festive wrapping — snowmen with carrots for noses and a variety of pebbled smiles. “From me and Okoye.”

“You got me a gift?”

Steve’s brow furrows as he nods like it’s obvious. “Of course. You’re my friend.”

“Well, now I feel inadequate,” you laugh. It comes out wet and it’s then that you realize you’re tearing up. “I promise to reenact Midsummer for you, okay?”

Steve chuckles, “You got it.”

You unwrap it slowly, half wondering why Steve and Okoye teamed up to get you a present. You. Your stomach churns an innocent whirl.

It’s a long sleeved vest… or sweater. You can’t really tell until you pull it from the box. It’s intricately designed and it takes a moment for you to finally see it, to finally understand, and the moment you do you exhale a wracked breath.

It’s not Wakandan fashion. It’s threaded with the colors and swirls of a place you haven’t called home in years. It has red flowers down the vest portion and multicolored rows down the sleeves and back. It’s made from a thick fabric that’s rarely used this century. Vintage — home.

“Steve…”

Steve clears his throat, “Now, I only did the flower parts. Okoye found it unfinished in… um…”

And there, where tags from brands would usually be, is a small threaded engraving.

‘From Bucky, To our muñeca.’

“He didn’t get to finish it so I thought I would — you know, help? — so it’s really from Buck. Probably an apology for not letting you visit him in Wakanda.”

Steve tries to push out a laugh at his poor joke, but you can see how he’s faltering. You reach up and wrap your arms around his neck, dragging him down so his knees bend, and pour as much nonverbal thank you’s into the hug. He hesitates at first, arms floating awkwardly, until he swallows his fear and wraps his arms around your waist. He holds you to him tightly and breathes in the sweet scent of your vanilla shampoo.

“Thank you.” Your voice is small, but Steve regards the delivery as powerful.

You wear it once, that Christmas night, enveloped in its warmth as you slept. In the morning, you hang it in the back of your closet.

A knock on your bedroom door sounds through your headphones. Bucky peeks his head in, “Is now a bad time?”

Sitting up, you pull the headphones from your ears. ��Nope. Just thinking about how I’ve lived several years in the span of one week.”

Bucky lugs in a sports bag in one hand and a manila file in the other. He places them at the edge of your bed and proceeds to bounce in the available space near you. “Yeah, that can be annoying.”

You attempt to shove him away as he tries to steal your blanket. “Did you need anything?”

“Yeah.” He lets you take it, and simply turns on his side to face you. “What’s gonna happen between you and Steve?”

It’s an innocent question, but you know Bucky well enough to notice when he’s stressed. Steve probably told him to mind his business. “We’re good.”

He inspects your face with squinted eyes, “I know what you’re thinking so cut that shit out. This isn’t one of those missions where the feelings will just go away.”

“Funny thing is, I believe you,” you admit, watching as his face does something unexpected. His smile drops suddenly, like he didn’t expect you to agree with him, and then it’s immediately back full force.

“Peggy and Steve - right person, wrong time. You and Loki - right person, wrong time. You and Steve, all those years ago — right person, wrong time.” A weird thing happens: you agree with him again. “But now, after everything — right person, right time.”

“It’s just weird feeling like it’ll actually work.”

“That makes us seem like we’re all broken, doll. We’re not.”

You turn so you’re facing him; two mismatched parentheses. “We’re just tired.”

“We’re just tired,” Bucky agrees, smiling. “I’m not saying don’t look over your shoulder whenever you feel like it. Hell, I still look over mine.”

Snorting, you roll closer to hug him. He pulls you into his chest. “You give amazing pep talks.”

“Yeah, I don’t know why they gave that trophy to Steve.” Bucky shares the intimate moment for as long as it takes before the blanket starts overheating. He groans as he sits up to retrieve the things he brought with him. “By the way, our mutual friend sends one last warm regards.”

Bucky throws the sports bag onto your lap. “What’s this?”

“Your shit.”

You don’t even want to ask him how he packed your things without your knowledge. “Kicking me out, Barnes?”

“Clothes, toothbrush, shampoo and conditioner, pads, the quilt I just finished knitting thank you very much,” Bucky lists and hands you the file. “Maribel found him.”

“Ramirez?”

“Your dad.”

You snap your head up to look at him. Bucky expects to see anger, hurt, maybe even betrayal. He was prepared for it. But you just look confused, lost for words, maybe even scared. “Goes by Richard these days. Lives with his wife in Wisconsin, no kids, keeps to himself.”

You flip through the files, holding your breath. The file is small, Richard’s information only covering the first page, the rest just drabble. He seems relatively normal, looks normal even; normal job, normal credit score, normal upbringing. It doesn’t even seem real. You close the file and set it aside. “So you are sending me away?”

Bucky smirks, “It’s a suggestion. But I took the liberty of doing the hard part for you.”

“Yeah, because packing my lady products is the climax of this story.”

It didn’t go unnoticed that Bucky called Richard your ‘dad’. Everyone either referred to Ernesto as ‘your father’ or by his name. Steve had said ‘dad’ a few times before he met him, then he never said it again. Hell, even you did sometimes.

It’s a sweet distinction and you’re certain Bucky said it on purpose. Bucky takes your hands in his, “It’s been a long time coming. But at least we can both say that the people who hurt us can’t hurt us any longer.”

You can. You really can.

Bucky’s already packed Steve’s shit as well. Steve’s just shoving extra socks into his bag when someone knocks on the door. He expects Bucky or Sam, final words of encouragement, but it’s Scott. And he’s standing there grinning like a mad man.

“So, what’s the verdict, Rogers? You going after her or not?”

Steve huffs a laugh, “Think you already know the answer to that, Lang.”

Scott closes the door behind him and leans back against it. He shoves his hands in his sweater pockets, “Not that it should matter, shut me up if I cross any line, but everyone supports this.”

“Weirdly, I think it does matter. We’ve had you guys picking sides for two years. Selfishly. Like we were having a fucking civil war after everything.”

“Yeah, well.”

Steve huffs a laugh. It’s always going to surprise him just how comfortable Scott is around him now. Not afraid to tease him or call him out on something he doesn’t agree with. It’s refreshing.

“I’m not giving up on her, Scott. Not again.”

Scott nods. Perhaps breaking the mission ethic code wasn’t a bad thing after all, Scott thinks. He gives Steve a proud smile, genuine. “Then I hereby declare our hanging conversation officially closed.”

Steve wanders from his bedroom, to the conference room, to the main living room without an end destination in mind, seeming to just follow his quick feet as they lead him around the halls of the compound. He’s proud of himself, really, because he truly believes he’s learned to swallow his pride, has opened himself up to the possibility of being happy, and accepted that the world has changed and will continue to alter whether he likes it or not. He was, is, and will always be a man out of time — he’ll never fit but goddamn does he feel settled. He hasn’t felt this sane since before the war — which one? — so he relishes in the feeling for a few calm seconds.

He feels tears well-up on his water line and feels the pressure in his temples. He’s at a crossroads — both proud of himself for finally choosing the path he wants and relieved that this week, this mission he has dreaded for almost ten years, is over. He doesn’t know if he should sleep for a month or occupy his time with other things awaiting repair. A build up of five years, grief and loss and happiness all weirdly mixed into one pot, and Steve simply hasn’t noticed the improper portions of each ingredient.

It’s too much.

He thinks about his mental health. Shot to Hell, he jokes with himself. He’s already got the virtual therapy appointments scheduled. He figures he’ll get better with time and if Steve knows one thing for sure, it’s that he’s got a whole lot of that.

He thinks about Sam and Bucky and Scott — his three best friends that have gone to the ends of the Earth and back for him, and who would proudly do it all over again. He thinks about their kind words, their gentle touch, their devotion that Steve still sometimes feels he doesn’t deserve.

And he thinks about you. To anyone else, this was written in the damn stars. No, there wasn’t anything extremely obvious in the first few years. You were friends. Friends that grew to consider each other teammates. Teammates that drew a drop of blood while fighting on opposite sides. Teammates that recognized the true endgame, teammates that helped each other escape, teammates that went silent for two years. Two years of no contact, no signal of survival. Then again, teammates who stood by as their world crumbled around them. Teammates who grew to be friends again, leaning on free shoulders and seeking help through happy conversations and long nights. Friends that brought the world together again, only to rip each other from their own. Friends into the most bizarre of enemies. And enemies back to teammates.

Steve wipes a hand down his face as he fixes the strap over his shoulder. The common room is empty — he likes it this way. That means everyone is either napping, getting food, visiting friends or family, simply living life. The silence is therapeutic.

His eyes fall on a crooked picture frame near the television. He tries to ignore it, almost to the door and ready for another road trip, but he steps back. Then forward, then back again. He groans in frustration of himself and moves to turn the frame back in place, holding it for a few seconds until it stays. But as he lets go, it tilts once more. He tries again — it tilts back.

He pulls the frame from the hook and turns it over. He rightly freezes, the presence of a small pink paper airplane taped near the edge knocking the wind from his constricting lungs. He pulls it off, careful to not tear the delicate post-it.

He never found it. Natasha probably placed it behind this very picture frame in the other compound for him to find. Surely the explosion should have destroyed it — but it didn’t. It’s right here, perfectly intact, just a smudge of dirt on one of its wings. The frame hadn’t been damaged either. It’s real.

He holds the thin piece of paper like it’s the most precious thing in the world.

Steve turns it over between his fingers a few more times, before he carefully folds it back in half and puts it in his wallet. “You’ve got some nerve, Nat. But I hear ya.”

Steve decides to write you back. He hides the letter in that sweater he knows you don’t wear anymore, in the far back of your closet, and marvels at the intricate stitching while he can. He poured his heart out, even if it’s not guaranteed you’ll ever see it.

‘Yes, I found your letter. I found it when I was looking for perfume in your suitcase. The tape was loose and I violated your privacy. I’m truly sorry for that.

But I felt compelled to write you back, in case the reverse happened and I died instead of you. I didn’t write it then, when you were drying your hair in front of that impossibly small mirror you so weirdly called ‘a stupid little bitch’. And you looked so beautiful. But I’m writing it now and maybe I’ll share it with you in person when we’re both ready.

When the world turned to dust, I held on to you. I know exactly why. Natasha bugged me about it also, teasing me whenever I would glance at you too long, or give you the last remaining Oreos I was planning on eating, or whenever I would leave your room in the mornings after a nightmare. She knew nothing was happening between us, but she had this smile whenever she caught me. Like she was happy I was comforting you, and in turn seeking comfort for myself.

You remember how her smile would tilt up more on the left side?

There isn’t a proper way to truly apologize for hurting you. But I will spend the rest of my life trying to make up for it. You at least deserve that.

I returned a different man. And I think that was for the better.

Yes, I wanted the quiet life. I still think I do. And I think you know this — you have always seen right through me.

I now know what Natasha saw. You irritate me, you damn near make me want to choke myself out, but I care for you. We hold each other up, and I’m always rooting for you, and I’m always by your side. No matter how annoying and smart-mouthed you may be.

You’re my best friend — I hope I’m one of yours.

Steve.’

There’s no one currently in the compound who really knows how to change the battery in your car. Bucky tries, does a rather good job too, but he claims he’s winging it and that you should call a mechanic just in case. He leaves you there with two random batteries on the ground, hood of your car open, and without any idea of what to do next. So you chill and wait for the mechanic you hope isn’t going to jack up the price just because he knows who you are.

But he doesn’t seem fazed by you at all — or at the fact he just had to drive through countless checkpoints and security checks just to get on Avengers property. He changes the battery and changes the oil, hooking you up with as many upgrades he can. He even offers to wash it until you thank him repeatedly and that Really, really, you don’t have to do that. Thank you so much!

“Quite a garage you got here.”

There are unfinished projects and random wires falling from the ceiling and enough tools to supply five garages. It’s messy, but it was Tony’s. You accept the compliment and see him out.

“Eh, make sure those windshield wipers work. I hear it’s gonna rain tomorrow.”

You thank him again. The clouds to the west are gray, getting darker as the expanse stretches, but from where you’re standing everything’s blue. You figure the mechanic was right: it’s gonna rain, and it’s gonna rain hard.

The mechanic did good, all things considered. You never thought your old, beat-up Honda could look a few years younger. You flick one of the wipers lightly, testing its strength. It holds, as does the other, but when you go to lift it up it stops halfway. Without wanting to break it, you don’t force it. There’s something blocking the switch.

You grab it before it can accidentally fall into a deep slot; the figurehead of a man, curly hair and beard that matches Steve’s, who also has a prominent and strong nose. You turn the coin over a few times before looking around the garage, down the street, at the remote area where the mechanic has just left. Standing there, mouth agape, you wonder just how in the world you missed the mechanic placing it there.

You were lacking in the spy department nowadays. Oops.

You know you’re not going to find Ramirez. But him giving this back to you? It was his way of saying he’s alright and that he owes you many thanks.

You pocket the coin and accept the fact you just got bested.

It should take a few hours before you hit the first motel. Wisconsin isn’t that far, but you do have to pass through about hundred “middle of nowhere’s”. You pull out of the garage and check your mirrors — completely unaware of the super soldier running full speed to the passenger door. Steve carefully throws it open, somewhat aware of his strength, and lands into the seat beside you.

You hit the brakes hard. “Oh my! Rogers!”

Steve sucks in a few heavy breaths, like he literally ran across the compound to make it. “What? I startle you?”

“What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing? Aren’t you on house arrest?”

You squint at him, “Touche.” Putting the car in park, you turn your whole body to face him. “Answer my question.”

“Thought you were just gonna leave without saying goodbye?” Steve asks, expression much more teasing than serious.

“I’ll be gone for three days tops,” you say, waving your hand in the air. Steve smiles at you, seemingly waiting for you to speak again. You roll your eyes, “You’re coming with me, aren’t you?”

Steve lifts up the small duffel bag you hadn’t seen when he first got into the car. He throws it into the backseat and smiles lovingly at you. “I’ve been told that I’m impossible to get rid of, so yeah.”

“Rhodey said that the ankle bracelet they gave me wasn’t a trusted model. Easy to break off, like they did it on purpose.” You lean toward him, holding your chin up with the palm of your hand. “Should be able to drive free for a few weeks before they suspect anything.”

“Already booked us a cabin for Thanksgiving.”

“What makes you think that I even want you to accompany me on this road trip? Did you like the first one?”

Steve clears his throat and mimes like he’s writing on paper. The next words out of his mouth make your legs turn cold. “No matter how annoying and smart-mouthed you may be, there’s nowhere in the world I’d rather be than here, there, and everywhere with you.”

You blink multiple times, as if that would fix your ears. “...You. Fucking. Didn’t.” Steve reaches over to try and hug you. “No, don’t.” He squeezes harder, smooshing your face in his chest. “Steeeeve!”

“It fell out of your suitcase during the mission and I just… looked,” Steve reasons. He allows you to escape his grip.

“You just looked?”

Steve sighs. He really does look guilty. He pushes a strand of your hair behind your ear, letting his fingers tickle your skin. “I’m sorry I read it. I’ll get out of this car for real if you want me to.”

You arch an eyebrow, “You’re a little shit, but I’m not mad. No one understands privacy these days.”

Steve smiles wide enough for his dimples to pop and his eyes to crinkle. “I’d follow you anywhere, doll.”

“Anywhere?”

“Just name it.”

Humming low, you lean forward. He follows your direction like you’re a lighthouse beaming with light, capturing your lips with his in a sweet kiss. He hooks a large hand behind your head to press you to him harder. You smell like that vanilla scented shampoo he loves so much and feels his heart constrict with a pleasant pulse.

You pull back for air and smile against Steve’s soft lips.

“Well, I’m headed for the middle of buttfuck Wisconsin—”

“Just drive!”

Bursts of laughter fill the car until you’re past the checkpoints and well onto the long roads. The clouds continue to turn darker but they’re inviting, alluring, and it’s not insane that both of you desire thunderstorms because they remind you of family.

Steve watches you from the passenger seat, memorizing the contours and edges of your profile. The roots in his heart begin spreading again; the meat of his heart filling with a soothing promise that his time on earth is no longer rootless. He’s dug his feet in, he’s watered all he’s needed to water, and he feels it spreading within him like newly blossomed flowers in the spring. He has a sudden urge to take out his drawing pad to immortalize the way your mouth tilts higher up on the right side when you smile, to record it forever.

But he’ll remember it. He’ll remember well into this timeline, several years down the road, and even when he’s resting in his grave. So he leans his head back against the seat and chooses to watch the curves of every expression you grace him with. He immortalizes the sound of your voice, the taps of your fingers against the steering wheel, and the accented way you say his name.

There’s a long drive ahead, but he’s excited for it. He’s excited for you. Steve promises himself that he’ll ask you a million questions, and give you a million answers, and share a million more stories.

Right now, he just needs to sleep.

THE END.

Taglist: @dumb-ass-3 @justab-eautifulmess @supraveng @mycosmicparadise @missnighttigress

#captainsimagines #Steve Rogers #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #reader x steve rogers #avengers fanfic #avengers x reader #marvel fanfiction #chapter ten #to topple a giant #to topple a giant finale #avengers mob fanfic #by Moni

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soukokuwu · 4 years ago

Note

could i please get a super soft scenario of just being on a date with dazai? maybe he had a bad day, so the reader decides to treat him for dinner, letting him choose their meal. afterwards, sitting on the grass at a park, with a blanket around them and watching the sunset. him cuddling into her, while she runs her fingers through his scalp and kisses his head. tysm :) i love ur writing and u seem like such a cool person irl

LOVEBUG. genre. fluff synopsis. people can change, even the most unlikely ones. word count. 1.4k author notes. this took so long for me to get out i’m so sorry!! but thanks for waiting, if you’re still here, and tysm for your kindness anony <33 hehe someone thinks i’m cool :3

times change, and so do people.

you are the catalyst of dazai’s change, the one that takes over him akin to a hurricane overwhelming a small city. but whereas a hurricane leaves a destruction in its wake, you grew flowers in the barren soil which was his life. where he would once rather drown in the ocean, now he drowns in thoughts of you, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

there was a time where he would rejoice in being alone, to stop putting on a facade. because truth be told? it’s tiresome. but funny enough, where he deigns to be himself on a day-by-day basis, he deems it worthy when it’s with you.

because how can love be real when he doesn’t bare himself?

which is why when a case earlier that day reminded him of the only loss he ever grieved, he gets the overwhelming urge to just see you, to hug you and inhale the scent of your hair, the scent that naturally calms.

it’s a wednesday, and he usually doesn’t come over on work nights, but he can’t help himself. dazai allows himself to drag his feet over to your apartment uninvited.

tap. tap. tap.

slow, and weak, on the mahogany door.

you only just settled down after a long exhausting day at work, but already an unwonted visitor. you stifle a grumble, socks muting your harsh stomps against the marble floor, but any trace of irritation is carried away by the wind when you feel the familiar texture of bandaged arms brushing against your skin, and the subtle elation under his controlled murmur.

“i’m so glad to see you.”

you take a moment to collect yourself, before you return his hug. you stop yourself from asking the obvious ‘are you okay’ because you think it redundant. for dazai to go out of his way and visit you out of the blue? something is definitely bothering him. but it isn’t your place to pry — you know it’s impossible for him to talk about his cases (you deduce that it’s the only factor in the current that would make him feel this way). however, there is one thing you can do as his girlfriend.

make an effort.

you drag your boyfriend inside and shut the door behind him, observing as he flings himself down onto the sofa, the perfect embodiment of exhaustion. whatever it is that managed to bring him down this bad just means you have that much more work to do to pull him back up. and no, you don’t mind at all, actually. on the contrary, you love being the one he entrusts these particular notions to. you know he would rarely ever let anyone else’s actions dictate his mood. except yours.

in that honeyed voice of yours, you lean down and let your thumb ghost his lips, earning yourself a pout from your boyfriend as he looks up at you. “tell me anything you want for dinner, i’ll whip it up for you,” you offer.

dazai grins, sitting up and presses the tip of his nose against yours, a glint in his eyes. “i know just the thing i want.”

“are you sure this is all you want?”

dazai chuckles at your skepticality, offering only a grin in response, jabbing his fork down onto the meat and swallowing it readily.

now it’s your turn to giggle. it still baffles you how this is his idea of a perfect dinner: crab from a can with bottled sake from the supermarket. he’s aware that you can cook up a much better, high-end version of this, with your knack for fancy plating and wanton knowledge of compatible herbs.

but you know better than to question it. his answer would probably be much too complicated for you anyway. so you roll with it. not everything has to have an answer. you know when probing is unnecessary. this is one of those times. it isn’t too difficult to just be content with what you have. because you are. very. just lounging with dazai, sitting on the floor eating on the coffee table.

it’s simple. homely.

the both of you have a lively debate on the alleged corruption of one of the state senators, occasionally being sidetracked by the music playing on the television. by the time the two of you finish up, you notice the sun sinking lower and lower against the sky. you glance at your watch, twenty-three minutes left, give or take.

“what is it?” dazai asks with a simple head-tilt and wondering eyes.

now you grin in reply, “come on, let me take you somewhere.”

fifteen minutes later you’re leaning against his side, sitting on the freshly cut grass, watching as the sun sets on the horizon, the orange resembling fire hearths and tangerines. you feast your eyes on the sight before you as the rich hues of orange blends with purples and crimsons.

you always liked sunsets. they remind you of fresh colours brushing upon a blank canvas, leaves you wondering how something so beautiful managed to exist in the first place.

“a masterpiece, isn’t it?” you subconsciously ask, your gaze fixed on the sky before you, an unobstructed view thanks to your many-a-times spent wandering around the park near your home.

“yeah, it is.”

dazai isn’t agreeing with you though, not completely. because while you’re admiring the scenery, he’s admiring you. you’re the only masterpiece in his eyes, a timeless existence being captured in the lock of your gaze. he shifts his pupils back to the centre before you can catch him staring at you, though.

but he finds that that mere few seconds of admiring you isn’t enough. so he casually lays his head on your thighs, much to your surprise. you try to lean back, aware that it isn’t the most flattering angle for him to see you in, but he reaches up to move your face back into place.

“you’re beautiful, belladonna, don’t hide that.”

you can feel a heat creep up on your cheeks as you sheepishly smile back at him and give in. besides, when have you ever been able to say no to him?

and maybe now you do understand why he prefers the simple things. because as the blanket of the velvety night signals the end of the drowning sun, a thought pops into your head.

there’s nowhere else you’d rather be. because it’s not about what you’re doing, it’s about who you’re with. and never did you think you’d ever be enough for someone as prodigious as dazai osamu, but that isn’t important. what matters is that he thinks so, and he does. you know it. he’s shown it to you countless times, even if they are through subtle, unconventional means.

so you text your boss to request a sick leave tomorrow, something you have never done so just because you’re the hardworker that you are. but when you peer down at your beloved boyfriend’s blissful face, you think that some things deserve more weightage in your life as opposed to corporations that largely looks at their workers as being replaceable.

that night you wrap the blanket you prepared around the both of you as you shift to lie down on his chest, letting the steady pulse of his heartbeat envelop your ears. you call out to him, only to get his rhythmic breathing as a response. slowly, you flicker your eyes up to peek at him. he’s already asleep. and you exhale a silent laugh at how absolutely harmless he looks in this state.

he was the one that came to you seeking refuge from his troubles, so how did it end up helping you blow your own negativity away? he really is a remarkable person, you think.

“i love you,” you whisper to him, before you let yourself fall prey to your enervation.

and as your consciousness slips away, you think you hear the faint rustle of sleeves and the muffled murmurs of someone trying to tell you something.

“i’d stay alive forever if it meant i could spend an eternity with you.”

but you’re already fast asleep, and it’s okay. because the man with the voice responsible for such earnest words knows. he knows he’s going to spend his entire life convincing you so.

tags. @yokelish @gogolparadise @fyowyn-writes @smoochi-dazai @animatedarchives @chihxru ask me to be added/removed <3

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softinkshadows · 4 years ago

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running into adultrio for the first time (x female reader) (3/3)

disclaimer: this is a feels fic CHROLLO The melodic sounds of pop rock from the speakers are louder this evening, over the clink of beer bottles and rowdy conversation. Propping your chin with one arm on the pub counter, you scan the sparse crowd - sure enough, business is slow today. Even the cigarette smoke which usually cling obstinately to the walls feels more distant. As expected of the Halich festivities, where most people in Saherta would be home with their families. For a small establishment like yours, in a town just on the eastern outskirts of the Gordeau desert, this means an early closing day. You are itching to get some rest tonight after handling the merrymakers in the past week leading up to the festive season. It is almost 6pm, you note, your eyes wandering across the pub. There is just a table of three regulars, and a man sitting alone in the far right corner near the windows. He looks slightly out of sorts, dressed in a long purple coat, his black hair combed back but slightly tousled. You can’t see his face properly now, but you recall the unusual cross tattoo on his forehead and the way he came in earlier, silent with the tell-tale shuffle of a worn traveler. You were a bit annoyed that he only asked for a glass of water before taking his seat, not budging an inch. Strangely, he seems preoccupied with the decorations on the wall, in particular the large and fading world map placed amongst photographs and notes from customers. “Sweetheart! The tab please!” You hear a familiar yell that jolts you out of your thoughts. You stride over to the table of the three, late middle-aged men who are already slightly tipsy from all the drinks. “Hope you gentlemen enjoyed,” you hum cheerfully, collecting the cash. As you bend forward to clear the bottles, you feel a hand on your lower back moving down to pat your bum cheekily through your skirt. Internally, you roll your eyes. You immediately brandish the dagger sheathed in your belt and stab it right between the fingers of his other hand resting on the table. You move so fast that no one has the time to react, but you sense the man in the purple coat look up and glance your way. “How many fingers do you want to lose this time, Hanz? Shouldn’t you be getting back to Lina now?” you retort teasingly, used to your regular’s drunk antics. The table breaks out into hearty laughter as Hanz turns sheepish, and they shuffle out of the pub to return to their families for the night. You gather up the empty bottles and bring them to the counter, before turning down the music. Now it is just you, the yellow glow of evening light slanting through the dusty windows, and the strange traveler in the corner. “Hey,” you say as you walk over, wiping your hands on your shirt, “I’m closing up. You don’t need to pay for the water, but I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” You notice the slightest shift in his eyes to the sheathed dagger around your waist. Then, he looks up and you meet his gaze for the first time. He is extremely good-looking for a traveler, and the light scuff marks around his cheek somehow accentuate his attractiveness. His dark grey eyes are undeniably beautiful, but something about their intensity catches you off guard. His eyes are alluring, almost calculative, but they harbour a flicker of vacant sadness. It’s the latter that stirs something in you, and against your better judgement, you ask, “Do you... need help with anything?” “I am just travelling through the area, but I am looking for a place to stay the night,” he explains pleasantly, smiling slightly. His tone is friendly and warm, you’d dare say even charismatic, but your gut tells you that something is off. You spend a few seconds wondering about sending this dangerous-looking man out into town, rapping on the doors of houses filled with elderly and young children for the holidays... Here, it was just you. You could probably handle him. And it’s been many years since you had company on an occasion like this. You sigh deeply. “If you don’t mind sleeping on a couch, you can stay at my place. It’s just upstairs. Every other home will be packed today.” ---- “Here you go. There’s nothing much,” you say as your swing open the door to your apartment. Thankfully you didn’t make much of a mess, save for some books left open on the sofa. The deepening orange glow of the sunset filters through the glass doors to the balcony, and your apartment appears cosy. The simple furnishings, the small table near the open kitchen, and the few cutlery by the sink only serve as an indicator that you live alone, and coming home to this sight every day always tugs at your heart slightly. You hear the click of the door closing shut behind you, and you wonder why the man hasn’t as much as said a word. You walk to the kitchen counter, intending on offering him a drink, when you register a sudden flash of movement. You feel the dagger in your belt being pulled out swiftly, so quick that the hair on your neck stands on end, so quick that you don’t even have the time to feel shocked, as it is immediately followed by the telling rush of air as the blade swings down above your hea- your instincts kick in, and you turn around rapidly, missing the blade by a few inches, ducking fast before pinning the man to the kitchen table with his arm twisted behind his back. All is silent except for the clattering of the dagger to the floor. “Listen, you piece of shit,” you growl fiercely. “I didn’t bring you up here so you could kill me. Here, you’re my guest, and I am your host. So you better start treating me like one.” You’re not sure why you’re hesitant to finish him off, but you release him. He turns to face you, rubbing his wrists, and in his dark eyes you notice a glint of intrigue. Somehow, he looks impressed. “I apologize for my rudeness,” he says with an amused chuckle, his previous innocent demeanour falling away. From this short interaction you can tell he is incredibly powerful, but you are not going to let it faze you. You pick up the dagger and place it back in your belt, giving him a glare. “The least you can do now is help me with dinner. You haven’t had anything to eat didn’t you?” The man looks at you stunned for a brief second, a puzzled look crossing his face, before he relaxes. “Alright,” he relents, removing his coat and draping it over a chair. You find yourself trying to stifle a laugh as you pan fry some meat, watching the man clumsily washing vegetables at the kitchen sink, his long fingers peeling and prodding the lettuce leaves without much experience. He doesn’t speak much, you realize, but you notice his eyes wander to the meat cleaver on the counter. “Don’t even think about it,” you snap, and you see a smile tug the corner of his lips. Later, you have dinner outside on the balcony, overlooking the glimmering lighted windows of other homes in the town. Beyond it the large rolling sandy hills of the desert. On most days you’d feel a crushing sadness being on this balcony as the past creeps back upon you. But tonight, it feels bearable. Your look to your side at the man eating in silence, looking out to the view occasionally, his eyes glazed with pensiveness and slight discomfort. He catches you looking at him. “The food is not to your liking?” you asked, preparing to be offended. “No, it’s just... this is new to me,” he replies. “What is? Eating?” you snort derisively. “Being taken care of,” he replies so softly you think you must have misheard. Your cheeks feel warm, and you grumble in your own awkwardness as you collect the plates and head back inside. “Earlier on, why did you let me stay?” he asks, following you. You let the water from the tap run over your fingers absentmindedly before falling to rinse the dishes below. “Even after I tried to kill you? Aren’t you afraid not knowing what I could do?” You hear his voice coming closer, now a shade darker. “Who knows...” You turn off the tap, sighing, then turning around. “What more can you possibly d-” He grips your wrists firmly and pushes you against the counter, his knees between your legs pushing them slightly apart, making you lean back to maintain your balance. His face presses close to you, lips almost touching. The suddenness of intimacy sends a shiver up your spine, and for a while, you’re speechless and confused, searching his gaze for answers. “I could take you, like this, right now,” he murmurs, his warmth breath fanning your face, and for a moment you feel your desperate loneliness rush into your chest, lightheaded and heavy with want. You could kiss him now and not care what happens later. You could let him ravish you without a thought, graze your body with his lips and hands in places you’ve long craved for...Then you notice his eyes, lidded, sultry, but beneath it a pained undercurrent of emptiness. The rippling desire in you begins to fade, and you understand. “I’m a killer and a thief. Yet you still help me, and you don’t even know my name.” He whispers, his hands not letting go of yours. “You never asked for mine,” you reply, looking straight into his eyes. You both stay like this for a while, in silence, though it feels like he’s on the brink of saying something more. Then, he pulls away. For the rest of the night, you and him barely talk. He spends some time checking his phone, reading the books you left on the sofa, while you clean the dishes, shower and make some preparations for the pub tomorrow. Every now and then he gets up to help you wiping the dishes, or carry the laundry to the balcony. When it is time for bed, you watch as he removes his shirt swiftly, before lying down on the sofa. “Goodnight,” you say softly, turning into your bedroom. “Goodnight,” he replies, not looking back. The events of the day and the past week catch up to you, and exhausted, you fall asleep almost instantly. You don’t notice when he comes into your room in the early hours of the morning. It is still dark, and his footsteps are quiet so as not to wake you up. You don’t notice as he bends over at your sleeping figure, gazing with fondness. “It’s Chrollo,” he whispers. He leans in closer, and cups his hand around your face. You shift and mumble a little in your sleep. He smiles to himself before placing a kiss on your forehead. He knows you aren’t listening, but says it anyway. “Wait for me.” Then he pulls on his coat and heads out the door, leaving soundlessly into the cold, dark morning as the first slivers of light begin to break across the sky.

#adultrio #adultrio x reader #hisoka morow #illumi zoldyck #chrollo lucilfer #chrollo lucilfer x reader #hisoka morow x reader #illumi zoldyck x reader #hunter x hunter #hxh

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infinitegalahad · 4 years ago

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Hi! Could you please do 4 or 24 from the fluff prompt list for brad or nate from generation kill?❤️

ROSY RED SKIES (AND CHEEKS)

Summary: Brad acts differently around you, and you begin to notice his little quirks and tease him endlessly for it.

Word-Count: 1.4k

Prompts: “you’re blushing”, “am not”, and “could you hold my hand?”

Warnings: N/A

Taglist: @theboardwalkbody

Notes: Decided to give gen kill some love since my love for it has resparked! I need to rewatch the show when school ends istg🥲 This is my first time writing for the show as well-so please bare with me! I just love when the iceman goes to the puddleman. Enjoy!

Masterlist | Send In A Prompt!

The chill brush of the waves crashing into your bare feet made goosebumps form all over your skin. Wyoming, even in the middle of July, became brisk as soon as the sun would hide behind the mountains. It was a spectacular sunset with the mountains and orange and pink sky, minus the temperature. As soon as Brad had parked his bike, you had hopped off and ran to the nearest lake to get the best view of the sunset. You threw off your boots and cuffed your pants, feeling one with nature. You couldn’t help that you were from the northeast-Ray would poke fun at you, but there was something about nature that was so soothing. You’d simply show him a smile, and roll your eyes. It was just Ray after all.

Your boyfriend, however, was the polar opposite of you.

Brad knew that you were too good for him, and the world. He didn’t understand how optimistic and empathetic you could be. Normally, those types of people were an annoyance, but you were different to him. At first glance, he thought of you as a pest. Ray would bother you since you stood out in the company, so he kept to himself. There was a point where you would be the driver instead of being in the rear, and that was when Brad felt at ease. Many troops — but certainly not all — see female flesh as a justified spoil. Most of Hitman, or a solid majority, were like rabid dogs. If they saw a woman, they’d foam at the mouths and talk about them like objects. Brad never wrapped his head around how open these men could be-especially around you. That’s the moment he knew, or at least Ray knew, that Brad Colbert had the world’s biggest crush on y/n.

It was an unforgettable day. You had been the driver of the humvee and Brad had been in the passenger things. Ray had started running his trap, and Trombely had remarked “at least the women can drive.” Brad had turned around, a flushed face (he claimed it was from the heat), and had Trombely shut the fuck up. Trombley was a psychopath, everybody knew that, but he targeted you the most with lewd remarks. After Brad had defended you, Trombely never bothered you again.

And you weren’t a horrible person-just y/n with a smile that made Brad’s cock twitch in his pants.

You wanted to thank Brad, but he simply iced you out.

One day it was raining, you and Ray had been in charge of fixing the humvee. The two of you were drenched, soaking, and weighted down by the heavy and brisk weight of the rain.

“Man, this is what it must feel like in a girl’s panties whenever the big, strong Viking known as Brad Colbert speaks to a chick,” Brad remarked as he looked down at you with a shit-eating grin. He knew exactly what he was doing, and he took great pleasure in doing so. “Tell me, my dearest pal. How does it feel?”

You were under the humvee, doing some final checks as Ray annoyed you. As you secured the final screw, you let out a sigh.

“My god, I normally don’t like saying this, but shut up Ray, please.” As you rolled out from the jeep, you threw the tools laying around back into the box. “It’d Fan-fucking tastic if maybe he didn’t repress his feelings.”

Turning around, Brad Colbert stood right behind you, his blue eyes piercing into your soul. Water dripped down his skin as he had a stoic expression on before turning around and exiting. Ray Person takes full pride in being the reason you two hooked up in the back of the humvee later that night.

A year later, here you and Brad were. The two of you had nobody but yourselves, so you chose to live where nobody could find the two of you. Brad thought that the state of human nature allowed people to be selfish and savage. The horrors of war had proved his point, which further increased his hatred for people.

But a simple smile or stolen touch from you-and Brad would go from the iceman to the puddle man.

You brought the good out in Brad. He hated everybody, but you, and he wanted to spend his time with you in the most unpopulated state in the United States. And you had no issue going with him. You had dreams to work as a Park Ranger, and as long as Brad had you by his side, then he was content.

Even though Brad loved you, as alien as it was, he occasionally didn’t understand you.

Brad had seen you hop off the bike and throw your helmet to the side, jumping towards the lake as he watched you like a hawk. He assumed he let you do your own thing and be “one with nature” or whatever zen-shit Rudy was into. But as you walked further into the lake, his brown leather jacket hanging off of your shoulders, is when he stepped into action.

“Y/n,” He called out, his voice echoing. You looked over, and Brad was starstruck. His jacket draped over your smaller frame as your eyes were widened like a deer in headlights.

“Yeah?” You questioned, nudging your shoulders.

Brad stood close to the shoreline, his icy blue eyes burning into your soul. His lips pursed against each other as his cheeks showed a red tint. No words came from his mouth, just the silence of the water and wind. He stood in place, looking right at you.

A smile curved up on your cheek. He was never like this around anyone else. After his fiance had left him, he was torn-at least in your eyes. You and Brad weren’t that different-your boyfriend had left you and had broken the news with a damn Christmas card. It was the strange way the two of you bonded. It wasn’t all mushy emotions and crying or cuddling-it was unprofessional, as much as you needed it. Instead, your bond consisted of long conversations on top of the humvee, looking at the stars. Iraq, despite it being hot during the day, turned freezing at night. Brad had given you his hoodie, which was like a nightgown on you. It was gray, the words ‘colbert” embroidered on the front.

You still kept it in your closet, wearing it for when you needed reassurance.

“You’re blushing,” You giggled as you turned your body fully around to look at your boyfriend.

Brad snapped out of his trance as his hand came to feel his cheek. He shook his head, “Am not.”

A smirk appeared on your face, “Really?”

Kicking off his sneakers and rolling up his jeans, he began to walk into the lake. “Really.”

“You sure?” You took a few steps back, but he kept gaining onto you.

Brad was close enough to grab your hand, restraining you with his strength. “Positive, ma’am.”

Jumping up, you gave him a quick peck on the cheek, which once again caught him off guard. “You're hot,” You noticed, “Well, literally. But you’re burning up, liar.”

“You realize how annoying you can be sometimes?”

“You chose to date me,” You shrugged your shoulders as you slid past him in the water, “Let’s head out before it gets dark.”

Once again, Brad grabbed you and held you back, but instead of taking your wrist-he took your hand.

You turned back and looked up at him. He had the expression of a baffled child, unable to explain what predicament he had gotten into. It had your heart melt-here was the notorious iceman, cold and cunning, melting into the puddleman.

“Brad?”

“Could you hold my hand?”

Pulling him forward, you locked your hands into his and gave them a squeeze. “Of course-why wouldn’t I?”

“We haven’t done this before.” He responded as the two of you walked out of the law, your feet drenched, “I’m not into the whole romance thing.”

“Wow-I never noticed.” You said, sarcasm in your voice, “I like it, puddleman. At Least your not calling me corporal.”

After the war, it took time for Brad to differentiate you as his girlfriend and his corporal. As much as he cared for you, he found it hard to do basic things such as showing his affection and even calling you by his first name. But with time, you showed up, and it came to him.

“You go from being my RTO to my girlfriend,” Brad says as he whispers into your ear, “And yet you're still the same-stubborn.”

“And you love it.” You smiled at your boyfriend, not expecting anything back from him but an annoyed face.

But Brad looked down at you with awe in his-and a subtle smile on his face.

#generation kill #generation kill x reader #generation kill imagine #Brad Colbert #Brad Colbert x reader #Brad Colbert imagine

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djxrxn · 4 years ago

Text

a regular thing

fuse (ct-8902) x reader

wc: 1.7 k

warnings: alcohol consumption!! some explicit language, maybe some mentions/references to sexual situations

art used is by jangofctts!!!!!! fuse and the rest of the sunburst squadron also belong to jangofctts!! this is because keida ( @jangofctts ) as well as danielle ( @jango-fettish ) REFUSE to let the sunburst squadron be happy, so now i have to step in ugh, ridiculous. anyways enjoy!

Damn. You forgot how gorgeous Fuse’s smile was.

It had only been a year since you wandered back onto your assigned base to find your squad was missing a member. Not dead, your commander had told you, just not here. There were snide comments, remarks told under breaths and in languages you neither spoke nor understood. They didn’t need some fucking mechanic trying to start a fight because a transferred clone had been insulted.

Your commander - Fang, all sharp words and crooked smiles, a man you were nervous to talk to in the first place, let alone push him on a topic he didn’t want to continue talking about - had told you to leave it, leave him be. This was for the best.

So you did. You left the thought of him behind on base, closing off the memories you carried in your chest to rot and slowly starve. Hopefully, one day, they’d be nothing, and you could finally wash Fuse off like the rest of the grease stains that littered your hands.

That was so kriffing difficult, though. Every blaster fire, every stray explosion no one had planned for on the field, Maker, even a fly-away spark, and you felt sick. You missed him, you missed his warmth so much. You felt his absence in your fucking bones, your body physically ached. You worried, how was he supposed to stay alive without you watching his six? How was he supposed to get out of the trouble he caused without someone like you, someone who wasn’t hell bent on pissing off their commanders and brothers?

And how were you supposed to do anything without your partner in crime - without someone to ease your fears and anxieties, to calm you down so you could fix one last wire on the last speeder needed to get away from the Seppies.

A unit - a duo. And now, you were alone.

Stumbling upon him like that, watching him scrub the red off the plastoid armor… if you hadn't known better, you would have thought maybe something like the Force had brought you together. You supposed the Force had also pulled you apart, too, but-

Now here he was.

Getting his ass to come with you to a club was easy enough. All you had to do was pay for his drinks - maybe it had been a year, give or take some time, but Fuse was still Fuse.

Empty shot glasses littered the table. This late into the night, you weren’t really sure how many you had, you didn’t really remember much. Everything existed in a haze, a bright and vibrant dream. The music was almost too loud to hear your own thoughts, let alone the person you came here with. The patrons of the nightclub moved about, but the only person you wanted to focus on was right in front of you, a wide grin stretched over his cheeks — you never noticed the dimples in his cheeks, or the handful of freckles over the bridge of his nose. Up close, and with only him to transfix on, every detail was explicit and bright, the warmth radiating off of him feeling more like fire than a gentle spark.

The feelings you tried to push away, the real reason you were so upset that you never looked for him, the fear that nothing would be reciprocated, all of it, it came roaring to the forefront of your drunken mind. He was beautiful, like a violent sunset, all fiery reds and deep oranges — you felt the panic flooding through you as you remembered that every sun crawls behind the horizon, leaving a cold and dark night in its absence. Nothing was forever.

You tried to say his name, but it came out crooked and garbled, a mess of syllables and vowels, it didn’t sound correct. “Fuse,” you tried again. Better, but your words still slurred.

Now it was his turn to say your name, and Maker, it made your chest ache.

“I—” Did you want to tell him? You couldn’t un-ring this bell, you couldn’t go back. What if Fuse was still hurt and wanted nothing to do with you, what if—

You didn’t know when you were going to see him again. For all you knew, his new squadron was moving out in the moving, being shipped out to another moon or a Inner Rim planet, He would be gone just as soon as you had him again, and if this was it…

“Hey,” you tried to shout over the music, “I love you.”

“What?” Fuse shook his head. “I can’t hear you, what?”

“I missed you,” you said. He rolled his eyes, but his smile grew a little bit brighter, and his eyes looked softer. For a moment, the past was forgotten and your Fuse was back. Every transgression had been forgotten, and for this bright and shining minute, you were better.

“I missed my favorite cockroach,” Fuse laughed. “We have to do this again, huh?”

You tried not to be upset that you couldn’t say it, couldn’t fucking tell him. You wanted so badly for him to understand why you didn’t look for him. Fang was a terrifying commander, sure, but you and Fuse had gone around him and his orders before. No, the reason you didn’t look for him because you thought Fang was right, this was for the best. You couldn’t really be with Fuse, even if he did feel similarly.

“I can’t let you go,” you said. “Not again.”

Fuse wasn’t sure — chalk it up to the whiskey, or maybe to the fact that Fuse had never paid close enough attention to you, to the way you looked at him like that, with eyes that almost looked misty, with a tight little frown forming on your sweet mouth - but to him, this felt so much deeper than the normal shallow of your relationship. This was not cut and dry, what you two had was not simple. Maybe it had never been simple.

“So, yeah, this is gonna be a regular thing,” you added quickly.

Fuse nodded. He didn’t want to think about what you meant. If you pushed on it, sure, you both could have that conversation. But he wasn’t running head first to be burned by you again. You could call the shots, and Fuse would follow.

“Alright,” he said, shooting you half of a grin. “Fine by me, cockroach.”

You took a breath, glancing away for a moment. The lights around you glowed neon pink and purple, a haze of color and sound and life — your life had revolved around the war. You didn’t know where you would be without it. Out of a job you supposed, but then, you wouldn’t have Fuse, or any of his brothers. All the same, it was nice to get drunk in a dreamy club and pretend like you were normal sometimes. You could pretend that you were a normal civilian, and that you weren’t required to be on a military base in the morning, preparing for another battle, another violent and miserable day. You could imagine a life with someone, maybe with Fuse - making caf in a cramped kitchen space in a small apartment in the Inner Rim. You and Fuse could open a shop, maybe something repairing vessels, or blowing them up, fuck, none of the details mattered. The more you thought about it, the more you just wanted a normal life with Fuse. You wondered if he had ever thought about a normal life with you too - you really hoped so.

When you looked back at him, Fuse was already staring at you - dark eyes and parted lips, his brow was furrowed up. Some dark thought was eating at his thoughts, tearing through him and overwhelming senses. You wanted to help him, you wanted to take his mind off of everything, you just wanted to heal.

You worked with machines — you knew how to retire and reprogram and fix things to make it run smoothly. Fuse was not a machine, and he was not made of wires and parts. You didn’t know what to do to fix things, if there was even a way to fix the damage.

Fuse leaned forwards, just a fucking hair closer, but it was enough to make it hurt. This was too much, he was too bright and too much, and you were suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to touch him.

“Can I kiss you?” You stumbled over your words, and you were worried he couldn’t hear you again, but—

He surged forwards to reach you, his hands flying to cradle your head. Fuse’s lips were warm against yours, his belts were warm, he was so fucking warm, you felt alive. Every breath you stole between soft groans and nips of teeth came easy, releasing the tension that had been building in your chest all night. His tongue grazed along your bottom lip before slipping into your mouth, and this was home.

How many times did you think about kissing Fuse like this? How many times did you imagine his hands instead of your own? This was everything you could have ever wanted, everything you needed from Fuse. You missed him so much, thought about him every moment, but this was worth it. Fuse could burn you in every way he knew how, and you would probably deserve it, but you would brave it all to kiss him again.

“Can this be our regular thing too?” You whispered against his mouth. Fuse pulled away for a second, and you almost were afraid that he was about to say no. But he moved forwards again, silencing all worry in your mind as he kissed you again.

“Yeah, it can be,” Fuse answered you. He wouldn’t mind at all if kissing you like this was a regular occurrence. His thoughts weren’t in order — not that he had excellent ideas sober either, but he couldn’t quite figure out how to sneak you onto base without Blanche or Blue catching wind of it. Fuse was trying to come up with a plan, something that no one would notice. That would be hard, especially if Sweets was on patrol for the night-

It didn’t matter, he decided as you tugged on his bottom lip, your gentle hands crawling up his thighs. It really didn’t matter at all — his brothers would be fine with it, or they would get over it. Fuse just wanted you, and now that he had you? Nothing could take his little bug away from him.

#hee hee hee #little bug #fuse and his little bug Do try to sneak onto the base #and sweets Does see them #hes just like im going to see how far these drunk children can get before something hhappens #not far #actually #little bug the n TRANSFERS #to be with fuse #there #everyone is happy now excellent #sunburst squadron #clone oc #clone original character #clone oc x reader #fuse #jangofctts #star wars #the clone wars

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golden-web · 2 years ago

Text

Ooc: This is a long overacting plot. It’s written like a story. This is the first chapter per-say. (I’m not good at content warnings but here we go) Drug mentions, violence (no heavy descriptions or gore), doctors, misgendering

No, no, this can’t be happening. My vision clears, white padded walls surround me.

“No,” I murmur. I squeeze my eyes shut hoping it’s a dream. I open my eyes again. Nothing changes. My eyes are burning from tears coming on. I try and steady my breathing.

Assess the situation. Mr. Daredevils voice echos around my skull. I look down and see web shooters. Shit. I pull my arms apart as hard as I came but they don’t budge. These are the same style of web shooters hydra used. Only worked when they wanted them to otherwise acted like handcuffs even I couldn’t get out of. This really isn’t good.

I try and take a deep breath again. My eyes drift around the room. The faint outline of a door is across it. I look up to the ceilings, two cameras and knowing hydra there’s probably mics too. I try to bend and move my legs but they don’t budge. Weird. I try moving my fingers, they are barely moving. I look closely as I try and pull my hands apart, my elbows don’t even move.

Drugged, or paralyzed, great. At least I can breath, maybe that’s not a good thing really. My head starts to fizzle, at least my spidersense is still intact. I try and look unbothered as the door swings open.

“Nice to see you conscious Fitzgerald,” a younger women says with a wicked smile. Her shinny brown hair is pulled back into a pony tail. She wasn’t here last time from what I can remember. She motions towards me with her head. She walks out of the room as two big burly people wearing all black walk in picking me up.

I try and move, anything but me head only lazily rolls from side to side. The two drag me down a winding corridor, following the woman. She stops and a door slides open. It’s a tiled room, it looks like a giant shower. The drop my down on the floor, I crumple like a bag of flour. As the woman turns to me I take my chance to try and speak.

“What do you want?” My words slur slightly but the point gets across.

“We want you darling,” Again the two people roughly move me, this time to a sitting up position. Another person walks in, a middle aged man with hard lines. The woman talks to him before she leaves and he walks over to a cabinet. I cant quite see what he’s doing but he’s defiantly grabbing something. He turns around holding a hair clippers. As a reminder a piece of my hair falls infront of my eyes drenched in sweat.

I try moving as he walks over, but with to to people on my side holding me still and my body still be limp its no use. I can only manage a no. The clippers roar alive as it cuts through my hair. My brown hair fall the floor, tears come to my eyes against my will. I was starting to get angry, years, that took years of perfecting my most gender hair cut and they took it in seconds. It seems stupid but my limp body was boiling.

Hours Before Hand

“Just a nice simple patrol is just what I need. A way to have some fun and get some stress out.” I Pull on my mask and swing off the roof. The warm New York air surrounds me as I zip through the air. I stop to enjoy the sunset on the side of a building. I smile, the bright oranges and purples blend nicely across the sky, the Empire State Building shimmering in the distance. I flip off the building and keep swinging around. Someone’s screams. And there I go.

A tourist is crying and pointing down the busy sidewalk, bag snatchers. Easy, in seconds I got guy webbed up and have the bag back in the tourist’s arms. Soon the moons popping out, I decide I wanna get something to eat. I swing right down to Delmars. Can’t get my normal to be safe so I settle for a ham and cheese sandwich.

“On me Golden-Web,” Mr. Delmar says as I reach for my money.

“Can’t let you do that sir,” I decide on a British accent toddy, gotta keep the people on their toes.

“You’ve helped me out, least I can do.” Well he’s not wrong. I thank him for the sandwich and launch myself into the sky. I find a nice rooftop and couple blocks away. I pull my phone out incase I’ve missed anything. My message app looks spammed. I open my Miles and Cory’s group chat.

Cory: Wanna come and hang out tomorrow night guys?

Miles: Sure watch a wanna do?

Cory: I don’t know, maybe a movie, just chill?

Countless other text between the two of them trying to decide on what to do.

Me: I’m down for whatever

Miles: Looks like Finley finally woke up

Me: Ha ha

I put my phone away, I’ll deal with them later. I go back to swinging around. A loud crashes echoes from a alley. These are never good. My spider sense starts going off like wildfires. Voice are yelling inside, in a language I can’t quite place. Time to go in.

Nearly instantly I’m under fire, not from normal bullets though, I try to dodge them and get out, but one lands. My vision starts to blur. I try and crawl out but my limbs feel like lead.

Back to present

It feels like I have cotton balls in my mouth. California dreaming is playing from somewhere.

Why are the lights so bright? I try to shield my eyes. Something pulls on them instead. I try and look down, my eyes start to focus. My wrist are clamped down. Well that’s not good.

“He’s awake,” a random voice says, I can hear body’s moving around in the room but the light it still to bright to see anywhere but down.

“He?” A different voice says, “I thought it was a she.”

“It always works,” says a familiar voice.

“Shut up Micheals, go back to the sanitizing room, we don’t need you here.” That voice I definitely recognize, I roll my head over and meet eyes with the same woman from early. Feeling absorbedly confident I open my mouth.

“Actually the it Micheals, is a they/them, but I’m assuming that’s just as weird to you isn’t.” Ohs and burns echo out from the other people in the rooms. The woman laughs.

“Get out Micheals.” I hear a huff from the presumed Michaels and a door sliding shut. My vision really starts to clear at this point.

Weird machines and people in long coats dot the whole room.

“Because you’re so chatty today,” the woman starts, “why don’t you state the name for the record?”

“Oh is this court room now?” I’m gonna blame my big mouth on the drugs. “I thought you already knew my name dear.” My words slur slightly as I turn to face the woman the best I can. I test my legs to see if I can move them, but they are tied down tight.

The woman chuckles. “Shock ‘em.” Before I can process what she said something lights up my sides. The crackle of electricity fills the air, and the slight smell of burning fabric wafts to my nose. My body shakes a bit as my muscles feel like pins are tearing through them. The sound cuts out and my body falls back into the board. “Would you like to try again?” My body gives a weak cough.

“Sorry for the joke,” I say sarcastically, this isn’t a fight worth fighting. I’m in hydras hands anyway might as while as bid my time till I can get away. “Finley Fitzgrearld.”

“And is that your legal name.”

“Yes actually.” I snap back.

“Bit of a fire under you today,” she remarks as she looks down on at a clipboard.

“You would to if hydra captured and beat you Ma’am.” A flick of her wrist and I’m shocked again. I try and face the person shocking me. “What, is, your, problem.” It’s someone barely older than me with a blank face, twenty two at most.

“That’s enough Fitzgerald. How old are you?”

“16, don’t you have all this information?”

She doesn’t answer and asks the next question. “How long have you been operating as the the ‘Golden Web’?”

“How do you know I’m the golden web?” My heart starts racing, it wouldn’t hard for Hydra to put the pieces together but someone knowing makes me nervous.

“No point in hiding Fitzgerald, we pulled the suite of your body, how long.” She’s getting exasperated. Not wanting to get shocked again I give an answer.

“Well it’s, June? July? Of 2022? I was bite by your spider in the summer of 2020? I started doing hero stuff that fall, so two years, this fall. If I make it to then.” This actually makes the woman laugh.

“Oh you will,” this sends shivers down my spine. She rattles of a few more questions, nothing interesting. The woman stands up and talks to some of the other people in the room. I notice my mouth is dry.

“What does someone gotta do to get a drink in this place,” I say before I can stop myself. No one responds. I feel the platform I’m on move, bringing me to a more up right position. A doctor looking woman starts flashing lights in my eyes and nose and stuff. Great a checkup. She jots a lot of stuff down before leaving the room all together, another person this time walks up to me.

“We good to start the process Ma’am?” They ask. The woman walks back over to me and shrugs.

“Is the chip in place?” She asks.

“What chip?” I asked confused. The two ignore me.

“Yes, the incision is three hours out, we have six more hours for optimal instruction.”

“Then go ahead, no point in waiting any longer.”

“WHAT’S GOING ON!” I yell as loud as I can.

“Durand!” The woman yells.

“That’s not an answer,” I say before the person shocking me from early approaches and I can feel my eyes widening as the shove the black metal rectangle against my side as the electricity courses through my body. Hands start to adjust my head as the electricity dies. I try and fight it but my body is stiff and soar and tight from the shocks. I hear metal creaking as a weird contraption comes down and clamps around my skull. No.

“Please don’t,” I’m crying, if this is what Mr. Barnes was talking about I’m screwed. “Nooo,” I wail. Some reaches over trying to put a mouthguard in my mouth, but I shut it. Pain blossoms on my ribs again and as I gasp for breath they shove it in. Tears stream down my face as I try and breath. I hear the machine powering up. Something is burning against my skull as my brain feels on fire. My life seems to flash before my eyes.

Cory laughing as we got ready for pep band. My parents singing happy birthday to me in our apartment. Miles and Harry weaving through the park together as me and Cory buy ice-cream. Everything. Dr. Octavius plunging into the river, The prowler falling backwards as blood blooms from his chest, Mr. Osborn being crushed by cement. Relief starts to flood me as those memories start to dim one by one, gone, hidden somewhere just out of touch. As the memories fade so do I.

#golden-web #spidersona #itsv #spiderman into the spiderverse #hydra arc #into the spiderverse #spiderverse #hydra #drug mention #tw doctors #nudity mention #tw misgendering

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dimensionwriter · 4 years ago

Text

Stick To Me

Male! Merman/Octoperson x GN! Reader

Warning: Talking of ocean

Word Count: 3028

Part Two

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Blue. Everything around you was this nice calming blue. The waves gently brushed against your boat before pardoning itself around it. The air held a slight salty scent to it that helped create this relaxing atmosphere.

For the last few weeks, you have been traveling around the world to see some of its natural beauty. Your boss sent you on this trip in order for you to write a story about the importance of connecting to untouched beauty of the world. In reality, you just took it as 'You are going on a paid vacation'.

The plan was to find hidden gems on land, but you couldn't help spending a few days in the water. It was something about the soft sounds of the waves and sometimes seeing a sea creature swim by that just enraptured you.

Lifting your hand, you spread the paint against the canvas. You weren't the best at painting, but you felt so inspired to at least attempt to. You were trying to paint how the ocean looked at sunset, but you doubt you could do it justice.

You put the paintbrush in the paint water. As you were painting, something kept catching your eye. A flash of orange kept appearing.

Maybe it was a fish. Maybe not. However, your curiosity was getting the best of you.

The thing was that when you were focused on the painting, the creature would appear. Then as soon as you lifted your head, all you would see was blue waves.

Quickly, you dropped to the ground and scooted away from your seat. The walls should cover you enough so that whatever sea creature it was, wouldn't see you.

Five minutes passed by and you were starting to think what you were doing was stupid. That was until the left side of the boat lightly tipped over. Water splashed against you, slightly soaking you

You looked up to see a mass of orange tentacles coming from over the edge. An octopus? How did an octopus manage to get this high up?

"Stupid humans."

The mass of tentacles dropped on the floor in front of you before sliding towards the area you were at before. Your eyes drifted up from the orange tentacles to the shift into a more human torso. Attached to the torso were a pair of long skinny arms. You couldn't see the face of the creature since you only saw it's backside. However, you could see a bunch of tiny tentacles curled near their shoulder.

"The human is marking the spot." Their voice was a lot deeper and grumblier than anything you've heard on land. The best way you could describe it was the roaring of waves during a storm. "They won't get away with this anymore."

You weren't dumb. You knew what you were looking at wasn't man nor fish. They seem to be a hybrid.

"Um, hi," you croaked out. It was inevitable that the creature would find you. Your feet were barely a foot away from them. You would hate for them to discover you while you looked like you were hiding. It's best to seem friendly.

The tentacles curled around themselves as the poor creatures jumped. They turned around quickly with a hand draw up in defense.

The face was that similar to a human, except there was no nose. Most of his face were large black eyes and the other half was a thin black line connecting to his thin dark orange lips.

"Nice to meet you," you spoke softly. You lifted your hands up to grab the railing and pull yourself up. The creature didn't say anything and only just squinted his eyes at you. "Can I ask why you came abroad?"

He glanced at your painting then back at you. "To protect my people from your kind. I'm tired of you attacking and harming us."

You froze up at the accusations. You haven't done any fishing or hunting in this area at all. You've been eating the food that you stocked up on from the other places.

"I think you may have the wrong person, buddy. I just got here a few days ago and I've been eating the food on my boat. I haven't hurt any merm… octopus people?" Could you consider him to be a merman? You didn't want to judge, but didn't they usually have one tail?

"Your kind constantly comes through with big boat like this and pull out guns and other horrific land weapons. You have the big boat like them," he growled out. The tentacles curled and began to tuck themselves underneath him, making him rise in height. Oh, he was definitely trying to intimidate you. Lucky for him, it was working.

"I'm not a hunter, I swear," lifting your hands, you tried to appear more innocent," I'm just a simple traveler trying to enjoy mother nature's beauty." You really feel like a traveler from the medieval time who just got stopped by a gang or something. Hopefully, you can make it out of this without getting attacked from this octopus man.

"You're marking the land on this weird paper," he stated while grabbing your canvas and presenting it to you as if he caught you red handed. "Do not try to lie to me, human."

You glanced at the painting of the sunset ocean and then back to the cold angry eyes of the man. "The sunset looks pretty on the water. So I painted it."

His eyes narrowed at you and you swore slits appeared on his neck. They flared out for a second before sliding back into the skin. His light orange skin was slowly starting to turn blue.

His tentacles were curling and uncurling, making his form seem a little unstable. He was beginning to shake the longer he stood there. The blue was slowly spreading down his thin face.

"I'll.. see about…that." The slits on his necks were wide open now. His mouth even parted as he attempted to breath. However, it seems the more he inhaled, the worse his condition got.

"Get back into the water," you yelled as you finally connected the dots. You ran over to him, mindful of his twitching limbs, and wrapped an arm around his waist.

Instantly, most of his weight was dropped on you. From how close you were, you could hear him struggling to breath through those slits.

You pulled quickly to the edge. Before you could warn him, you shove him off the boat. You'll have to apologize later for it. Although you would rather him be mad at you for throwing him then for him to suffocate on air.

A loud splash came from below. A few droplets of water got onto your face, but you could care less. The only thing on your mind was 'Is that octoman okay?'

A few agonizing seconds, nothing happened. He didn't pop up on the surface and you didn't see him swimming away. What if you killed him? It was only an 8 feet drop. Did he land in the water wrong?

Light blue. The water where he dropped in was changed to a light blue. Then, it shifted to a dark red colour. The red covered most of the area he went through.

You killed a octoperson. First, you try to convince him that you aren't like the other humans who harm him and then you kill him by throwing you off the boat. The guilt was already starting to overwhelm you.

"Human." You can still hear his grumbly voice. Is this what people mean when they say they feel their sins crawling down their back?

"Human!" Oh, his voice is getting louder. You can't even seek help for this. There's the one part of where people wouldn't believe you. Then there's the second one where humans would terrorize these creatures and probably do some traumatic research if you told anyone about this. That's not what that poor creature would have wanted for his people.

Water sprayed against your face. You didn't even realize that you had put your head on the railing in your moment of panic.

Glancing down, your eyes were met with small orange tentacles curled around a light orange face. Around his cheeks were small little blotches of blue.

"You're okay," you yelled out in excitement. You threw the upper half of your body over to the railing to get a closer look at him. The water around him was still that uneasy red, but his face wasn't showing any visible pain.

He floated up a little more, allowing you to see his upper waist now. Something red and blue were smeared across his chest. How did that happen?

"I'm so sorry for throwing you off like that. Did anything get hurt?" His eyes stayed on the water as he just silently floated next to the boat. It looked like something was bothering him. "Do you need some help?"

"No, I'm fine, lander. It's just.." His skin started turning blue again as his eyes narrowed. The slits on his neck open again before closing. "I apologize."

He lifted his arms out of the water. Red and blue water trickled down the curves of his arms before running down his chest. His fingers were completely red and orange. Held within his fingers was your painting. Well, what was left of it. He must have never let go of it when he went overboard.

"It's okay. I could always make another one of those or ask someone better to make it," you spoke lightly. You felt a smidge of disappointment because you actually worked hard on it. But that's not what matters at the moment. "What matters the most is that you're okay."

For the first time, his eyes stared up at you without any hatred in them. In those black orbs shined nothing but awe. His peach lips parted slightly before closing.

He launched forward and dove under the water. A wiggling mass of bright orange tentacles was engulfed by the water. After a few seconds, the water began to calm.

For a split second, you had hope that maybe he would come back, but you knew it was foolish. That was probably a once in a lifetime interaction. It wasn't going to last forever.

He stated earlier that humans were attacking his kind, so he most likely still holds that fear. It's shameful that your species would do something like that to another beautiful creature. Maybe you guys' interaction could help his heart. You're just one person, but maybe he could see that all of humanity is not like that.

You won't admit to yourself on how long you stayed outside just in case he came back again. Or how much your heart sunk when it finally dawned on you that he truly wasn't coming back.

That night as you closed your eyes, you let your thoughts wander to those fierce black eyes and light orange skin.

Sunlight. Thunder. Rough waves. All of those things you were used to waking up to. However, the feeling of something wet and slimy sliding across your arm, wasn't it. In your sleep hazen mind, you wondered if maybe some water had slipped in.

Then it dawned on you that you're in a boat that's thousands of miles from land. The last thing you would want is water slipping in.

Your eyes shot open and the first thing you noticed was a figure hovering over you. In a panicked daze, your right arm scrambled to your bedside dresser in search of a weapon.

Light flooded the room as you accidently hit the light switch. The figure above you flinched and stumbled off your bed.

The thing about living on a boat is that the space is extremely small. The space between your bed and wall is barely enough for you to squeeze through while standing. So for the poor intruder who just went butt first, he didn't have any space to leave.

Reaching to your left, you grabbed a wooden bat you brought from the last place you went to. Who would have thought that your decoration would be used for it's intentional purpose?

"Sorry! Sorry! Sorry!" Your eyes looked over at the intruder. Orange tentacles and black eyes. His skin was still dripping water making that orangish glow pop.

"You scared me," you whispered, dropping the bat onto the bed. You waddled across the bed to where he was. His tentacles were stuck between trying to grab onto your comforter and failing or pushing against the wall, but not having enough space to.

"I didn't mean for your slumber to stop. I wanted to gift back the fancy land paper while you slumber," he grumbled. That's when you noticed in his arm was what looked to be your canvas.

Instead of the smeared paint from the water, all of it was washed away. However, he found a way to replace it. The blue water was made with blue pearls and some sort of purple plant. The red skies were shimmering scales. The setting sun was made of something you couldn't name, but it held a slight glow to it.

"Woah, did you make this?" His hand reached towards the bed again to pull himself up, but the fabric just slipped through him. He dropped more into the hole.

Okay, slow down. Free him first, then ask questions later. You reached out for his hand, but stopped for a split second. You didn't want to seem like all you do is haul people around.

His eyes flickered from your awaiting hand to your face. A frown slowly came onto his face. "Again."

His hand was extremely cold and wet when it wrapped around yours. His black eyes blinked slowly as if he was shocked for a second. Whatever surprised him wasn't enough to stop him from pulling on your arm to free himself from the hole.

Orange appendages spread around your bed as he slides up onto it with you. Since the poor man was so tall, he had to slouch down to avoid hitting his head on your low ceiling. It didn't bother you much due to the fact you had an inch or two before your head hit it.

"I didn't know humans were so hot," he grumbled. He ball his fist up before letting the tension slowly dissipate. "I am in a position to give you gratitude. May the sea goddess know of your good deeds and send blessings your way."

You weren't a hundred percent sure what he meant. Maybe it was the octo-people way of saying thank you. It was adorable in it's own way.

"Apologies too for swimming into your pod without permission. I have tidals of faith in the water goddess for gifting you, however-" He trailed off as his fingers rub across the edges of the canvas.

"Did you create this?" You couldn't help admiring the painting again. It looked a million times better than anything you could have created. It took you days to make that painting and he made something like this in a few hours.

"No. I am not the best in this craft. I received help from someone within my shoal. I don't comprehend the pleasantry of seeing this. Do you find this pleasing?"

He extended the canvas towards you. A small brush of blue appeared on top of his cheek. He wasn't wheezing like last time, so why was he turning blue?

"Of course it's beautiful. I haven't seen most of these gems in real life. It's so much more vibrant than anything I could get with some paint." You couldn't help the smile that appeared onto your face. The canvas held within your hand seems to be glowing with beauty.

It's almost like he was inflated at your compliment. His shoulder squared up more and the corners of his orange lips quirked up more.

"Good. Good. I may not understand, but I know humans best out of my shoal." A tiny smile slipped onto his face. With his lips parted, it revealed a row of pointed teeth. That's kind of unexpected.

"Trust me when I say I really love this. Thank you-" You mouth stayed open as you realized you never got his name. Is it too late to ask? "I never caught your name."

His lips closed and his black eyes squinted at you. "I am Loire from the middle realm of the East Ocean Kingdom."

It was kind of surprising how seriously he said that. Maybe that's something about this new found world. You wouldn't mind seeing more of it.

"Well, Loire. I truly thank you for the art work. I will cherish it forever." You gave him a grateful smile as you hugged the canvas. It was slightly wet, but that didn't matter. It was the thought that counted and he truly proved that.

Loire didn't move a single inch. His black eyes just unwaveringly stared at you. You were expecting him to maybe leave after that. He gave you this beautiful gift. Maybe there was something else?

"Um, is there something else, Loire?" You asked, looking up at him with a patient smile. A small blue blush coated his cheeks as he called out your name.

"I stand with you until our actions are equal," he whispered. He slowly slithered forward until he was barely an inch away. His face was so close to yours.

Being this close to him, you could see small blue freckles scattered across his skin. His hair, well more like tiny tentacles, was slowly moving to stay out of his face.

"Our actions?" You don't know why you were whispering too, but with him so close, you couldn't help but feel meek.

His hand brushed against your arm as he made his way up. Softly, his hand landed against your cheek. He was so cold to the touch.

"You saved my life. Our actions need to be equal. I have to save your life." He leaned closer to you. His eyes scan you before looking back into your eyes. "Or, I stay with you…for eternity."

"Oh."

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

This is the closest I will get to doing something for Mermay. I've always wanted to do something, but I miss it, but not this time. I actually like Loire as a character. (Still have room in my heart for Kai though).

Now for the question to answer if you've made it this far. What's one thing you would love to do with Loire if you found yourself in this situation?

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dreamypeaches · 4 years ago

Text

let’s hear it for the boy | jj maybank x reader

summary: you take on the role of jj’s hype woman as his insecurities begin to overwhelm him.

warnings: alcohol use, cursing, allusions to sex

word count: 2k

a/n: i listened to this song (let’s hear it for the boys by deniece williams) on the way to work the other day and couldn’t stop thinking about how much it applies to jj. so here’s this tooth rotting fluff fic. i threw another parks and rec reference in. idk what it is but jj and his girl give me subtle april and andy vibes. enjoy :)

This was not the first time you had ended up like this with JJ. Curled up on his bed in the Chateau, holding him close as he complained about his dad or the Kooks or just life in the Outer Banks. Tonight was different though. JJ had fallen deeper into his thoughts than ever before, picking out every one of his flaws and insecurities and laying them out bare for you.

You listened with a frown on your face as your boyfriend continued to shit on himself. Usually you would stay quiet, inserting kind words here and there, but letting him vent to you until he was finished or he fell asleep. Tonight, however, you had to interrupt when JJ took it too far.

“I’m such a piece of shit, Y/N, why are you even with me? You should just fucking leave, I’m sure you would be a lot happier.”

“Hey!” You nearly shouted, causing JJ to jump from your arms and turning to look at you with wide eyes. You sat up on your knees, taking JJ’s face in your hands and forcing him to look at you. You’d had enough. Tonight, you were going to tell this magnificent boy in front of you just how amazing he is.

“I love you, JJ! I’m not going anywhere! You are the most amazing person I have ever met!”

JJ’s eyes softened slightly at the words, but right now is insecurity was louder than your voice.

“You shouldn’t be with a guy like me. I’m going to hurt you, Y/N. I’m going to say something I don’t mean and fuck it all up because that’s just who I am. I’m just a dirty Pogue from the Cut.”

You released his head and shook your own.

“JJ, you can’t really believe that.” You spoke. Words of encouragement and adoration tumbled from your lips as you began to discuss exactly why JJ was the best man in the world.

He ain't got much to say

But he loves me, loves me, loves me

I know that he loves me anyway

JJ always had a way with words. He could lie his way out of any situation and charm himself into another one. Hell, he had found a way to charm you into his life. But when he finally had you, he started falling for you hard. The words suddenly became stuck in his throat, all the love and emotions he felt for you falling to the wayside. It frustrated him, not being able to find the words to tell you how much he loved you. You knew though.

With you, JJ didn’t have a way with words, he had a way of making you feel loved with just a single touch. The way he held you close to him at a Kegger, his hand in yours helping you onto the Pogue, the passionate kisses and bruising grip on your hips as he pounded into you. He didn’t have to say it. You knew he loved you, beyond a doubt.

And maybe he don't dress fine

But I don't really mind

'Cause every time he pulls me near

I just wanna cheer

Your sister was getting married, and all the Pogues were invited. Standing in your bridesmaids dress by your parents at the entrance to the venue, you saw the familiar orange van pull up and the door slide open. John B jumped out with Sarah, wearing a nice shirt and pants that his girlfriend surely picked out for him. Pope was next, and you recognized the suit he was wearing as the same one he wore to his scholarship interview. In a beautiful, but simple sundress, Kiara popped out behind Pope. Trailing behind them, your eyes softened at your boyfriend, who wore the only button up shirt he owned with a pair of khaki cargo shorts, his usual black boots, and his signature red hat sitting backward on his head. You felt your mother tense up beside you, leaning over to whisper in your ear, “What on earth is JJ wearing?”

You ignored your mom, too busy grinning at your approaching boyfriend. His grin was just as wide, scooping you up in his arms and kissing you hard.

“Hello my beautiful girlfriend!”

“Hi my interestingly dressed boyfriend.” He put you down, stepping back and looking down at himself before meeting your eyes.

“What’s wrong with my outfit?” He questioned with a furrowed brow. You giggled and pulled him back to you, shaking your head.

“Nothing, baby, you look amazing,” You said truthfully.

“Damn right I do.”

Let's hear it for the boy

Let's give the boy a hand

Let's hear it for my baby

JJ buried his face in your chest as you spoke. You ran your finger though his hair, feeling him groan as you finish talking about the wedding.

“God, that fit was so terrible.”

“Yeah, it was, but it was also super adorable, just like you.”

He groaned again making you giggle.

“Do remember what happened at the reception though?” You asked. He shook his head and peeked up at you. A small smile on your face, you recount the night with stars in your eyes.

You know you gotta understand

Maybe he's no Romeo

But he's my loving one-man show

Let's hear it for the boy

JJ held you close on his lap as you sat with the rest of the Pogues. You watched your sister dancing with her new wife, a small smile on your face. Kiara poked you, stealing your attention away.

“So, when are you two gonna tie the knot?” She asked, wiggling her eyebrows. The hands on your thighs tightened their grip and you turned to look at JJ. He had a drunken smirk on his face as he gazed down at you.

“What do you say, sunshine? Wanna get married? Wedding sex is always amazing, imagine what it’s like when your the one getting married,” He said, winking.

You scoffed, turning back around and getting up from his lap.

“How romantic, J,” You say before walking off toward the bar. Kie slapped the back of JJ’s head, giving him a look that said What the hell?

JJ sighs and stands, following after you.

“Baby…” JJ stands before you as you take your drink from the bartender, not meeting his eyes. He grips your hip with one hand, the other gently taking your chin and tilting it up. You sigh and push his arm away.

“It’s fine, JJ, I know you were just joking.”

“What makes you say that?”

You freeze looking back at him, stomach fluttering at the sincere look on his face. Taking your hand, he pulls you closer, brushing your hair behind your ear and resting his palm on your cheek.

“I want to marry you, sunshine, more than anything. I’m sorry for the shit proposal, but I’ll make it up you.”

You grin up at him.

“Promise?”

He leans down, lips ghosting over yours.

“Promise.”

JJ was on his side now, head propped up on his hand. He was smiling down at you as he remembered the night with you.

“I still haven’t made it up to you.”

“Oh you have, a million times over.”

My baby may not be rich

He's watching every dime

But he loves me, loves me, loves me

We always have a real good time

Dates with JJ were always special. He pulled out all the stops, using whatever tips or extra cash he had made that week to get you a special dinner or a gift. Some weeks were less successful than others, and this was one of them. Most of his money had gone to his bike, which was in the shop. But his empty wallet wasn’t going to stop him from showing his girlfriend a good time.

You grinned as you pulled up to the Chateau, seeing your boyfriend waiting for you near the dock. You hopped out of your car and raced down to him, jumping into his arms. After a long kiss, you rest your forehead on his.

“How was your day?” You ask.

“Better now that I have you, sunshine.”

He sets you down and takes your hand, leading you down the dock to the HMS Pogue. A blanket is laid out in the back with some pillows scattered around, along with a cooler with two wine glasses sitting on top of it. JJ helps you into the boat, kissing your hand before releasing it and moving to start the boat.

The colors of the sunset are painting the sky in beautiful oranges, purples, and pinks by the time JJ stops the boat and throws down the anchor. He joins you on the blanket, opening up the cooler and pulling out a bottle of wine, a carton of strawberries, and a jar of Nutella. As he popped open the bottle and poured the wine into the glass, you shook your head at him.

“J, you’ve really out done yourself.”

He grins, handing you your glass.

“Yeah, well, wait till you taste the wine. It was like twelve bucks at the gas station.”

“I think we can agree that all wine tastes the same, and if you spend more than $15 on wine, then you are very stupid.”

JJ raised his glass with a wink, “I’ll drink to that.”

You spend the rest of the night cuddling on the Pogue, eating strawberries and getting wine drunk, watching as the colorful sky faded into a dark, sparkling one. As you got ready to head back to shore, you pulled JJ in for a passionate kiss.

“How did I get so lucky?” You questioned.

“Nah, sunshine, I’m the lucky one.”

And maybe he sings off-key

But that's all right by me, yeah

A karaoke machine, some cheap liquor, and a very drunk JJ Maybank was an amazing combination. Being just as drunk, if not drunker, you couldn’t stop your laughter as the love of your life terribly sang Dear Maria, Count Me In at the top of his lungs. He fell into your lap, face scrunched together at the intensity with which he was singing. You clapped louder than any of the other Pogues, who were just as far gone as you, as JJ sang the final words. He dropped his head dramatically, looking up quickly to sweep his hair out of his face without touching it. As JJ took your hand, pulling you up for a duet, you silently thanked Kie’s parents for cleaning out their basement and not throwing away the shitty karaoke machine from Kiara’s 11th birthday.

'Cause what he does, he does so well

Makes me wanna yell

Let's hear it for the boy

“I love you, J. You’re the greatest person in the whole fucking universe, aliens included. You’re the best friend and the best boyfriend a girl could ask for. Don’t let anyone, especially yourself, tell you differently.”

You rolled over to straddle JJ, taking his head in your hands.

Let's give the boy a hand

Let's hear it for my baby

“I love you, JJ Maybank. I will scream it from the rooftops because everyone needs to know that I am dating the most amazing man I have ever known. But right now, I want just you to hear it. You’re amazing, JJ Maybank.”

You kiss his cheek.

“You’re the funniest guy.”

You kiss the other cheek.

“You have great music taste, but a terrible singer.”

You kiss an eyelid,

“You plan the most amazing dates.”

then the other.

“You make me feel loved.”

A kiss on the forehead.

“Cherished.”

A kiss on the chin.

“Adored.”

You dive in for an intense and hungry kiss, soon pulling away to look deep into his crystal blue eyes.

“Loved.” You whisper. His arms wrap around your back, pulling you close to bury hie head in your chest. You feel tears begin to soak your shirt as he trails kisses across the exposed skin of your collarbone.

“God, I love you so much, sunshine. You’re my whole fucking world.”

He pulls you down for another kiss, rolling you over onto your back. His hands wander your body as he prepares to make you feel as good as you make him.

Let's hear it for the boy

Let's hear it for my man

Let's hear it for my baby

taglist + moots: @jjmaybby @dontjinx-it @butgilinsky @rekrappeter @diverdcwn @rafecameron @prejudic3 @starlightstarkey @https-luna @sunnypogue @obxmxybxnk @jjmayybank @bluesiderudy @socialwriter @kindahavefeelingskindaheartless @jjbinghams @outerbanksbro @poguestyleskye @softstarkey @bricksatanakinswindow @drewsephsmiles @poguemackin @downbytheouterbanks @ilovejjmaybank @diverrdown @broken-jj

#jj maybank x reader #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank fic #jj maybank imagine #obx fic #my writing

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mattzerella-sticks · 4 years ago

Text

Sunrise (Dean/Cas coda to 15x19 “Inherit the Earth”, 1.7k)

(ao3 link)

Dean and Sam were free. Finally, unequivocally, free.

But this wasn't the happy ending Dean had expected. Maybe in the past, having Sam in the passenger seat tearing across an open stretch of highway as the sunsets, it'd be what he wanted. But that was years ago. He's not that man anymore. Dean's tired of sunsets, of saying goodbye. He yearns for a different ending. One that's less of an ending, and more of a beginning. A sunrise instead of a sunset.

Sam has his. Dean lost his. Despite this setback, he won't stop. He'll live in memory of his sunrise.

Except, what can he do when he feels those rays on his face again?

Early morning sunlight streams through half-closed motel window blinds, striking Dean directly on his face. Stir him from unconsciousness, shuffling Dean out of his dreams. Warm blue and familiar stubble replaced with an ugly, orange patterned wallpaper that makes his stomach unhappily flip. Groaning, he turns. Hopes he can reclaim his quickly fading fantasy. It escapes his grasp, Dean left in the loneliness of reality.

Truly. He checks Sam’s bed, finding it unoccupied. “Figures…”

They crossed paths with Eileen coincidentally. Not like Sam’s pointed questions and giant thumbs hid his intentions. Even his terrible acting (“Eileen? What are the odds of you being here?”) couldn’t throw him off. Dean played along, however, letting them think he was in the dark. Knew exactly why his brother and his brother’s girlfriend hadn’t told Dean about this. Salt only hurts a wound that’s fresh and open. While badly healed, Dean’s grown numb to that missing chunk of his heart. More pained that his sadness made his loved ones go behind his back, act in guilt.

Sam and Eileen don’t deserve shadows because of his pain.

Which is why he’s happy for them. Left the bar so they can chat without his presence. Catch up, let Sam tell her about those kitschy tourist traps they’ve been hopping between since Chuck’s defeat. Show pictures of Dean in an upside-down house, Sam’s head peeking out from corn fields. Hold hands. Sit on the same side of the booth. Kiss, without worrying if Dean is steadily killing his liver at the bar because of them.

Drinking lost its flavor anyhow.

Free from Chuck’s influences, Dean decided he might cut a few more strings. Namely beer. He’ll enjoy a bottle every now and then but, reflecting on it, booze never offered comfort he really needed. Only aggravated a different sort of hurt, distracting him for a while. He abandoned those distractions. Instead of asking their bartender from last night, with his tanned skin and wavy, blond hair, for whiskey, neat, until he dropped, Dean stood from their table and paid his tab. Carried his longing out the exit, drove with it, laid down in his bed and held it close. Hugged it, imagining his arms. Praise whispered in his ear, about choosing a different way. A better way. A healthier way.

Cas would be proud of him. Prouder than he already is. And Dean… felt the same.

Rising, Dean stretches. Winces as a new disc pops and cracks in his back, “Motels ain’t what they used to be…” He throws his legs over the side, scrunching his toes in the shag carpet. Smiling, “But at least some things’ll never change…”

It’s going to be a slow morning. Dean doubts Sam will swing by before noon, meaning he has hours to kill. First, he leisurely showers. Scrubs at his scalp with gentle scratches, humming Zeppelin under his breath. Keening ‘A Whole Lotta Love’s chorus, coming into his hand. Lets that melody fade while water makes his come sluice off his hand, into the drain. He switches tracks, dries himself while softly singing ‘Going to California’. Thinks about their next destination. All those beaches he and Sam plan on visiting. Finally making good on their promise.

Not how he always envisioned it, but…

Dean drapes the towel around his neck, staring at his reflection. Marks new wrinkles he hadn’t noticed, gray hairs where dirty blond were. Sees how small his eyebags shrank.

Sleeping was surprisingly easy. Some days Dean wished it weren’t. Others, it’s his only chance at being with him again.

“Nope,” he says, leaving the bathroom. Jumping out from the mirror. “Not going there… not this early…”

He bides his time dressing, debating where he should get breakfast. Wonders if a diner they passed entering town might serve pie as he hops into his jeans. Waffles between a t-shirt or purple-and-blue plaid while rubbing deodorant on. Then, tugging his tee’s thin fabric over his head, he decides he isn’t that hungry. Can eat later, Sam driving so he can attack snacks he squirrelled away when they last stopped for gas.

Knock Knock Knock

“Sam?” Dean asks, glancing at the door. No one answers. “Sam is that you? You forget your keys or…” He checks his phone. Nothing.

Knock Knock Knock

“Sam, if that’s you – this isn’t funny.” He grabs for his socks, sitting on the end of his bed. “Pulling a poor joke on your brother, leaving your girlfriend alone in bed… shame on you.”

Knock Knock Knock

Dean squeezes his socks, glaring at the door. His irritation fades, weirdly, the longer he stares. Replaced with a different feeling, comforting. Without needing to, Dean guesses it’s not Sam on that other side. Tossing his socks, Dean stands and slowly inches forward. Drawn by gravity, a name perched atop his tongue. Waiting there, scared of being spoken. Of being wrong. He doesn’t feel wrong.

Is this still a dream, he asks himself. Did I actually wake up? Dean waits, hovering near the doorknob. Remembers rushing last time, what waited there then. What he almost threw himself onto. Cycles through who might be waiting now. Something worse, a more terrifying monster. Or maybe mundane, like the motel manager. He’ll never know if he drags it out. Whether that’s motivation or warning, Dean can’t decide. What he does choose is flinging open that door and facing whoever was there.

“Hello, Dean.”

“Cas -?” Dean gasps, knees buckling. Laughing, he leans his weight on the door. Grins wide enough his cheeks must splinter, twin tracks of tears already spilled over. “Cas, is that…” He coughs, wiping at his mouth. “Is that really you?”

Like nothing happened, Cas crosses the threshold. Dressed spectacularly… normal. Trench coat, suit jacket, and white button-down paired with his crooked blue tie. Dean’s hand drifts close but can’t touch. Not yet. “It is me,” he tells Dean, “you… probably have a lot of questions. About why I’m here, and – and what was said when the Empty…”

Of course, there are questions. None were as important as Dean snatching Cas’s tie, dragging him into a heated embrace. “Later,” he promises, closing the door. Guiding Cas onto his bed. Falling, his angel’s body collapsing atop his. Weight proving further and further how real this is.

He’s back!

“I can’t believe…” Dean kisses along Cas’s neck, threading his fingers through hairs resting at his angel’s nape. Feeds a fire burning across his body, flames roaring with a desire for more. “Can’t believe I could be this lucky…”

Cas chuckles, “Good things do happen, Dean.”

“Never to us.” Pausing, Dean tears his eyes from the dip of Cas’s collarbone and to his face. “I searched, Cas. I did. Back when it was me, and Sam, and Jack, I did everything I could but I… there wasn’t any lore. Nothing about contacting the Empty, breaking through I – how?”

Shifting, Cas rolls off Dean and onto his side. No sooner than it started, those flames eating at Dean’s insides tempered. Became a more manageable heat, containable. Dean tucked himself against Cas’s chest, hearing his heartbeat. Awed from that simple rhythm it gives. Lulls Dean with a gentle song. “Jack,” Cas explains. Rubs Dean’s shoulder, along where his handprint was. Teased the edges of his tee, part of his memorial tattoo revealed. Cas traces his palm outline. “In fixing Chuck’s mistakes, he… he mounted a rescue mission from Heaven.”

“For you?”

“For everyone.” Cas kisses Dean’s crown, continuing his story. Whispers it into his head. “All the angels. Jack rescued us all.”

“Everyone?” Dean asks, “Meaning… Michael? Gabriel?”

“Uriel, Balthazar, Anna, Hannah, Metatron – even Lucifer.”

“What the hell?”

“He was fixing what Chuck wasted. Saved Heaven,” he says, “Gave everyone a second chance, to do right by humanity. Be its guardians like we were supposed to be. And…” Cas lays his hand where it belongs, Dean shivering from contact. Wraps his arms tighter around his angel’s waist. “Jack offered me all my powers back, and then some. Said I could be his archangel… second-in-command, in all of Heaven.”

Dean lifts his head, frowning. Studies Cas with a suspicious wrinkle creasing his brow. He deflates somewhat, disappointment rocking into him like heavy waves. Routine. Expected, since Cas was exactly where he wanted. But then, isn’t that answer enough? Dean asks regardless. “Did you take it?”

“I thanked him for the offer,” Cas says, “however my place was elsewhere, here on Earth… with you.” His hand moves, cupping Dean’s cheek. Thumb brushes his lip. “And when our time comes, I’ll rejoin Heaven at your side.”

Cas’s heartbeat makes sense, now. It never did that before.

“We’ve got a long time before we croak, Cas,” Dean jokes, crawling higher up his bed. Enough that he can press their foreheads together. “You think you can handle it?”

“I waited millennia to meet you, and then years just so I can hold you like this.” Cas closes the distance, capturing Dean’s lips. “I’m hoping our future is excruciatingly slow.”

“Our future…” He relaxes, allowing a few more kisses before he starts again. “Y’know, I… I thought I’d never get to say that. Figured, after Jack took the reigns from Chuck, this was all we’d get and – and having everyone back was nice. But you weren’t there, and I hurt. When you died, I wanted to sit there and let myself waste away and join you. Except if I did, you’d be so angry and – that’s what’s been keeping me going. You loved me so much – and were pained whenever I was… I couldn’t do that to myself. Punishing myself wouldn’t be fair. So I thought about my future, how I can live it for those I loved. Be there… the person I’ve become, and not who I used to be. But now…”

“Now you can be a little selfish,” Cas says. “We can be selfish.” He tickles Dean’s chin, hands roving across his body. “What should we do, for the first day of the rest of our lives?”

Dean doesn’t dawdle. “I want to lay here,” he says, “Lay here the whole day, in your arms, telling you how much I love you.”

“…I don’t see any problems with that.”

Neither did Dean, which is why he suggested it. They fix themselves, first. Cas sheds most of his outer layers, leaving himself only in his boxers. Dean hurls his jeans off fast, jumping under the covers. Giddy as Cas joins him, both men facing each other. Hands joined above their sheets, Cas’s palm fitting perfectly.

“Well?” Cas arches his brow, “How much do you love me?”

Dean kisses him, ruining it by smiling too hard. “I love you too much, and not enough.”

#supernatural #spn #spn15 #15x19 #15x19 inherit the earth #15x19 coda #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfic #dean winchester #castiel #destiel #deancas #destiel fanfic #deancas fanfic

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