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chillinglyadventurous · 2 months ago

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Jealousy, Jealousy

Tags: Jealousy, Pining

I did NOT proofread this.

Once you met Stan’s twin brother, you were absolutely smitten. Stan had known immediately, of course. You told him not ten minutes after Stanford Pines, the real one, had sent the FBI agents away.

You pulled him aside as the twins gushed over Ford, “Why is he hot? Why do I want to marry him immediately?”

Stan shook his head at you, “I knew you were into older men, [Y/N], but I thought you only have eyes for me?”

The fake hurt in his voice was amusing as you crossed your arms over your chest. You kissed his cheek before turning your attention to his biceps, giving them a strong squeeze. You laughed when he flexed.

“A big, strong man like you,” you gushed, “ugh- men like you just can’t be tied down to one woman.”

“You got that right, hot stuff.”

You and Stan had always been flirty with each other, perhaps a bit inappropriate at times, but it was strictly platonic. He had even pulled you aside once, telling you you were a cute girl, but he didn’t have the same feelings. You had laughed in his face, of course. So presumptuous, so full of himself. “I’m out of your league, babe,” you punctuated your sentence with a wink, leaving him speechless. “You wouldn’t know how to handle me.”

Now, you were all about his brother. He was more your type anyways, older and more mysterious. Stan was an open book, always speaking his mind. You appreciated the honesty, but you weren’t Stan’s type either. He preferred a the exact opposite of you.

In some twist of fate, Ford had asked you to dinner. You knew it wasn’t what you thought. It couldn’t be a date. He was simply taking you to dinner to talk over his research. When he and Stan had gotten back from their sail around the world, he had promised to show you everything over a nice meal, to thank you for all your help before they had left.

You were still excited, though, so you had dressed up. It wasn’t anything fancy. It was more casual, a dress you had found in the back of your closet you just hadn’t had the chance to wear in a while. Mabel had offered to help you get ready, that’s why you stood in the middle of Stan’s TV room.

“How do I look?” You gave a little spin in the living room. You held out your hands as you turned. “Think he’ll like it?”

Stan growled at you. A wide, flirty grin covered his face, “I don’t know about that nerd, but I’d take it off you right now if you’d let me.”

“Stan!” You chastised, your head pointing toward the kids sitting at the table behind you.

Mabel looked from you to Stan and back. She looked confused, “Grunkle Stan, she looks beautiful! Don’t make her change.”

“Yeah, Grunkle Stan,” Dipper agreed. “I think [Y/N] looks very pretty.”

You laughed at their innocence, hoping it would never go away. They were sweet kids. You loved them. Maybe, if things worked out with Ford, you could be their great aunt. Graunt? Graunty? Grauntie? You’d work out the details later.

You smiled when Ford came around the corner. He hadn’t really dressed up like you had. He wore his normal garb, but the trench coat had been forgotten. You didn’t understand how he could wear a sweater in the middle of summer. You felt over dressed.

“You ready?” You beamed, taking the outstretched, brand new, Journal 4 in your hands. You were so eager to see what he had been up to.

His hand ghosted over your shoulder, afraid to touch down as you walked by him. Your nose was already buried in the pages. “Only if you are.”

A smack and your yelp broke your concentration. You looked back at Stan who had just smacked you on the rear. He gave you a wink, “Go get ‘em, tiger!”

You didn’t notice the scowl on Ford’s face. Specifically, you didn’t notice the angry glare Ford gave his twin brother. Stan knew how Ford felt about you, yet he was still doing this?

“Stanley,” Ford had confided one night aboard the Stan O’ War II, “I think I have feelings for [Y/N].”

Stan had barely looked down at him brother who was lying on the bunk beneath him. He gave a dismissive wave, “She’s a cute one. That’s for sure.”

Now, you were sitting at dinner. You barely noticed the waiter as you and Ford chatted about his and Stan’s run-in with a giant kraken that had almost sunk their ship. You laughed with him over the story, amazed how he used his magnet gun, carefully aimed at a distant lighthouse, to pull them to safety.

“That’s amazing!” Your hand touched his. Perhaps you had too much wine, “You’re amazing.” The buzz of your phone pulled you out of the spell Ford had put you under by just being himself. “Excuse me,” you whispered as you reached into your purse. You held up your phone so he could see Stan’s name.

U 2 get married yet?

Stan. You let out a breathy laugh, “You’re brother is the most annoying person I have ever met in my life.”

Maybe we would be if you’d leave me alone.

U know you love it when I bother you.

You noticed the change in Ford’s demeanor. “You okay?”

“Of course,” he muttered as he waved the waiter down for the check. He gave you a sad smile. “It’s getting late,” he sighed as he paid the bill.

You walked back to the Shack in silence. As always, Ford held open the door for you and you snuck inside only to find Stan waiting for you. He gave you a warm smile and patted the arm of his chair for you to sit. You sat down next him, his arm slung over your shoulders.

“You two have a good time?” You smiled, but Ford didn’t. His eyes were glued to Stan’s hand squeezing your bicep.

You shuffled away from your friend to sit on the floor instead, “We had a great time, didn’t we?” You glanced over at Ford who refused to look at you.

You didn’t understand. “Yes, of course,” his tone was dry as ever. “I have work I need to do.”

A pit formed in your stomach as he disappeared. You looked up at Stan with pleading eyes. He gave you a warm, comforting smile, “Don’t get so flustered, babe. That man catches mood swings better than he catches a ball.”

“Does he like me at all?” Your words were more confident than you had expected. You sighed, “One minute, we’re laughing and have a great time. The next, he’s all cold and distant. I don’t get it. Did do something?”

You had avoided Ford for a few days after that, never even getting the chance to thank him for such a nice meal. The two of you skirted around each other. Just as things felt normal in the few moments you shared, he grew cold as soon as Stan walked into the room.

You didn’t understand it. You thought they were getting along now, only ending their sailing trip for the kids to come back for the summer. They seemed fine most days. You didn’t understand what had suddenly changed.

“Hey,” you sighed “I brought your journal back.” Ford barely acknowledged your presence in his study. It upset you. “Did I do something to piss you off?”

Ford looked up at you, shocked by your words, “What on earth are you talking about?”

“I thought we had a nice time at dinner,” you crossed your arms over your chest, closing the book he was reading. You stared at him with an unblinking gaze. “Now, you’re acting like I don’t exist. When you do speak to me, you get all quiet when Stan shows up. What’s up with that?”

He breathed in a heavy inhale. His thumb and pointer finger gripped the bridge of his nose, “I can’t be around you and not think about you and-“

“What’s shakin’, bacon?” Stan smirked as he entered the room. The atmosphere in the study was tense. “Whoa, what’s going on here?”

You crossed your arms over your chest. Ford did the same. The two of you glared at Stan. “Just say it, Stanley,” Ford huffed. “Just say she’s already with you. I’m tired of waiting for you both to just spit it out.”

“What are you talking about?” Your eyebrows furrowed. “I’m not with anyone.”

Stan snickered from beside you. “Yeesh, I forgot to tell you guys something.” You and Ford turned to Stan expectantly, “So, [Y/N], you know that little crush on Sixer you told me about last year?” You blushed, trying to hide it behind a flare. Ford’s face relaxed, stare landing on you. Crush? “Well, Ford told me he’s got a thing for you too. I thought I told you.”

“No,” you spat, “you left that little detail out.”

Ford stood from his chair. “I thought you two were seeing each other. You’re always flirting.”

You shook your head, a small smile forming on your lips. Every ounce of anger you had towards Stan vanishing, “We’re just friends.” You could see the relief on Stanford’s face. His eyes sparkled from behind his glasses. “Maybe we should give dinner a second chance.”

#gravity falls #gravity falls x reader #ford pines #stanford pines #stanley pines #ford pines x reader #mabel pines #dipper pines #stanford pines x reader #chillinglyadventurousfics #stan pines

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sykoangels · 2 months ago

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RING RING

kinktober prompt : phone sex!

pairing: fem!reader x emily prentiss

warnings: praising / masturbation / established relationship

author note: happy kinktober!! also should I do more criminal minds fics let me know please!!

Being married to an FBI agent comes with its own unique set of perks and challenges. From the constant protection and occasional vacation days to the intriguing yet sometimes disturbing stories that come home with them, there's never a dull moment. However, being married to the unit chief of the behavioral analysis unit also brings its own set of responsibilities and considerations.

Agent Prentiss is a hardworking woman you met on a case in Seattle. You thought she was pretty cute, but it wasn't really clear if she was into women. After the case ended, which was pretty gruesome, you kept in touch and started learning more about each other. This blossomed into romance, then marriage, and now you're living in Washington DC with her, taking care of your kid named Sergio, who is just her cat.

Ever since you and Emily tied the knot, her frequent case trips made her feel like a stranger at times. In the early days, it strained your relationship as it seemed like you hardly ever saw each other. And when she did come home, she was often too worn out from her unavoidable challenging cases to engage in much else. You understood the demanding nature of her job and admired her dedication to making a difference, but you couldn't help but long for your wife's presence.

Currently, Emily is on a case in Baton Rouge. I’m trying to solve some mysterious death that happened in that area. She was supposed to be coming home today, but unfortunately, due to the severity of the case, she has to stay there an extra week with the team. It was an ideal and was kind of heartbreaking in your opinion. All he wanted to do was spend time with your wife, but there was this overwhelming feeling that you had for the past couple of days while she was gone. The feeling of desire deep inside of your core. It didn’t help that your house smelled like Emily, especially on her side of the closet. You would go wear her shirts from time to time taking in her scent that lingers behind.

As night fell, you carefully closed up the house. The lights in every room dimmed and then went out, leaving only the gentle glow of the bedside lamp in your bedroom. The entire house was immaculately clean, with every surface wiped down to a pristine shine. As you moved from room to room, you noticed the faint scent of red wine and rich mahogany, mingling with the cool draft of air from the vents.

You chose to ring up Emily as usual, especially since it was getting late. This was your customary practice whenever she was involved in a case. The night in Baton Rouge was serene, with the moon casting a gentle glow over the tranquil neighborhood. Its soft light filtered through every window and seeped through the gaps in the hotel curtains, bathing the surroundings in a serene glow. Emily heard the vibrations of her phone, praying and hoping it wasn’t work. She just wanted to rest for a little while, but a smile appeared on her face when she realized it was her lovely wife. She immediately answered you can almost feel the smile on her face through the phone.

Emily’s voice crackled through the speaker, a mix of relief and exhaustion. "Hey, babe," she said, her tone warm but tinged with fatigue. "I was hoping it was you." "Miss me already?" you teased, trying to lighten the mood. The silence on the other end of the line was punctuated by the rustle of sheets as she shifted in bed. "Always," she replied softly, the smile in her voice unmistakable. "How’s Sergio? Did he eat his dinner?" You chuckled, glancing at the cat lounging lazily on the windowsill, bathed in the moonlight. "He’s fine. Just enjoying the view. But seriously, Em, how are you holding up?"

There was a pause, and you could almost see her running a hand through her hair, the same gesture she made when deep in thought. "It’s been tough," she admitted. "This case… it’s one of the worst I’ve seen. But hearing your voice helps. It really does." You leaned back against the pillows, the warmth of the bed enveloping you. "Then let’s make it worth your while," you said, your voice dropping to a sultry whisper. "Tell me what you need, Emily." Her breath hitched, and you could hear the faint echo of her heartbeat quickening. "God, I need you," she whispered back, her voice thick with longing. "But I can’t… not right now."

"Then let’s do this," you suggested, your heart pounding in your chest. "Close your eyes, imagine me here with you." "Alright," she murmured, the mattress creaking as she settled back. "I’m closing my eyes… and you’re lying next to me, your hand on my thigh."You closed your eyes too, picturing her silhouette under the dim light of the bedside lamp. Your hand drifted down your own body, mimicking the movement you knew she longed for. "Good girl," you breathed, your thumb brushing over your nipple through the fabric of your shirt. "Now, tell me what you want." "I want…" she hesitated, her voice breaking slightly, "I want to feel your touch, everywhere."

You bit your lip, the sensation sending a jolt of arousal through you. "Describe it to me, Emily. Tell me where you want me to touch you." "My neck," she said quickly, her voice trembling. "Kiss my neck, baby. Feel the pulse there, taste me." Your mouth watered at the thought, your fingers trailing down to your damp panties . "And then?" you prompted, your voice husky. "My collarbone," she continued, her words coming faster now. "Let your lips slide down, trace the curve of my shoulder… oh God, I can almost feel it."

"My breasts," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Lick around the edges, tease the nipples… make them hard for you." You groaned, your fingers circling your own clit, mimicking the motion of your tongue. "And what about down here?" you asked, your voice shaky. "What do you want me to do to you?" "Touch me," she pleaded, the vulnerability in her voice making your stomach flip. "Slide your fingers inside me, feel how wet I am for you… please." You didn’t need any more encouragement. Your fingers found their way past your folds, pushing inside with a gasp. "Oh Emily," you moaned, the sound echoing in the quiet room. "Are you touching yourself too?"

"Yes," she gasped, the word torn from her throat. "I’m stroking myself, just like you told me to. God, it feels so good." "Not as good as you’ll feel soon," you promised, your fingers curling inside you. "I’m going to make you come, Emily. Just like this." "Please," she whimpered, the desperation in her voice fueling your own arousal. "I need it… I need you."

You moved faster, your thumb pressing against your clit in rhythm with your thrusts. "Tell me what you see," you demanded, desperate to lose yourself in her fantasy. "Paint the picture for me." "I’m lying here," she panted, her voice strained, "my legs spread wide, waiting for you. Your hands are everywhere, teasing, touching… driving me wild." "And then?" you pressed, your own orgasm building with every word.

"Your face between my legs," she said, her voice breaking. "Your tongue… oh God, your tongue sliding inside me, licking, sucking… making me scream." You cried out, your climax crashing over you like a tidal wave. "Emily, I’m coming," you gasped, your whole body shuddering with the force of it. "Me too," she sobbed, her voice raw with emotion. "Oh God, yes… right there…"

You collapsed back against the pillows, your breathing ragged, your body still humming with aftershocks. The line went quiet, the connection between you both still humming with the intensity of the moment. You lay there, your heart still pounding, the memory of her words echoing in your ears. "Wow," she breathed, her voice filled with wonder. "That was... intense." "Mmhmm," you agreed, your own body still humming with residual pleasure. "We make quite the team." She laughed softly, the sound warming your heart. "Yeah, we do. Can't wait to be in the same room again." "Neither can I," you admitted, your voice filled with longing.

"Agreed," she said, her tone serious. "Love you, Y/N .""Love you too, Emily," you replied, your heart swelling with emotion. "Sweet dreams.""You too," she whispered before hanging up.

You lay there, staring at the ceiling, the memory of their shared moment still fresh in your mind. The taste of her words lingered on your lips, the scent of their mutual arousal in the air, and the thought of the warmth of their bodies pressed against each other. It was a perfect night, one that would be etched into your memory forever.

#sykoangels #sykoangelssmut #need that #fanfics #emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #criminal minds #agent prentiss #criminal minds fanfiction #emily prentiss x y/n #lesbian reader #criminal minds emily prentiss #kinktober #criminal minds x reader

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rogersideup · 1 year ago

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Nice to be Kneaded

Chapter eleven

Courage

Series masterlist

Previous Part: The Snap Next Part: Homecoming

Word Count: 5,845

Warnings: My blog is 18+ only. All minors or blogs without an age in bio will be blocked. Minors DNI. Mentions of loss, abuse, PTSD, anxiety and depression.

Steve was enraged.

Even after Thanos dusted away half of all living things, blipping away half of all of his loved ones he still didn't feel quite this angry.

He was pretty sure that if he was an animated character, his skin would be firetruck red with puffs of dark grey smoke blowing out of his ears. There would be squiggly black marks around his feet as they quickly stomped across the compound showing how the force of his steps rattled the ground with every stride, effectively and dramatically carrying him to exactly where he needed to be.

The second Steve opened his mouth, the words in the white speech bubble above his head would be replaced by numbers, punctuation marks and octothorps. He had nothing nice to say, and his voice would only come out at one volume until he got exactly what he wanted. Loud.

This anger all started the second his phone dedicated to you rang and he was met with chaos and clinking gun metal on the other line. He heard the familiar clicks of handcuffs, he heard your cries and the questions you were asking out of fear.

He heard the way you weren't read your Miranda Rights, he could tell they had wrongly used force and pulled weapons on you. He didn't even know who they were at first.

So he enlisted the help of Natasha, one of the only other people living at the compound with him at the moment that was available to help him track you down. It took a few days, and every passing moment made him feel sick to his stomach knowing every minute he didn't know how to help you was a minute you were in the custody of some branch of government that was obviously in some sort of power trip.

On the morning of day three of the search, Nat peeled herself away from the laptop for a little while to take a shower and properly get ready for the day right after Steve did, then she came rushing back into the private sector office area with a spring in her step.

"Rogers, you're never going to believe who I just found." She declared with urgency. Steve's head popped up, eyes wide and hopeful. "Just passed by intake, they were booking her."

"Like... HERE?!" Steve questioned, jumping out of his seat faster than she could even answer the question.

"Yeah, literally downstairs." She followed his fast steps down the corridors.

"You're telling me shield agents were the ones who did that to her?" He asked again, smoke building up in his head.

"Go easy on em' Cap, you know they're just following orders." Nat tried to ease his anger. "You know they had to respond to a report."

"They didn't have to respond with a bigger crime than the one she committed in the first place." He puffed, stomps growing louder, fists wound tightly.

By the time he made it to intake, he slammed the door open with enough force to make everyone in the lobby jump out of their own skin. Natasha was surprised it managed to stay on the hinges.

His voice projected loudly, bouncing off each starkly white wall, booming enough to break the florescent lightbulbs above head.

Nat approached the front desk and tapped her nails against the wood, letting her head rest in her hand while she waited for Steve to be done yelling at everyone around him so she could talk some actual legal sense into these imbeciles.

To her surprise, Steve was actually making really good points, using really big words, and his knowledge on the legal side of what was actually here lined up. Which made her job easier in turn, but she was ready to bargain for you nonetheless.

Fourty five minutes.

That's how long it took for Steve to chew out everyone directly involved in the whole ordeal. Every detail he got out of the circumstance in which you were detained made him progressively more and more angry.

Natasha did eventually take over after those forty five minutes and used every detail she just learned, every broken rule in the sun and threw it right back in their faces. Jobs we're lost, livelihoods we're threatened, and a chain reaction was sure to ensue the moment they got their hands on some help from Rhodey.

He vowed to help start an investigation on the corrupt agents that did that to you.

Once Steve ensured you were free to go with a complete scrubbed criminal record including that one speeding ticket you got for going 35 in a 25 zone, he calmed down to a more reasonable state of being.

The smoke from his ears was now nothing but red in his cheeks with little white diagonal lines emphasizing the crease in his angry brow.

Steve and Nat sat heavy in seats like stone while they continued on further. The government needed to make up for what they did to you, and quite honestly, they owe you one for keeping one of its greatest protectors safe for so long in the first place.

At the hour and a half mark, a deal came into agreement, and Steve was squirming in his seat to go and rescue you from the holding room he knew you were locked up in.

It was so hard for him to know you were just down the hall and not be able to go sweep you off your feet and try to put a bandage over the damage he had inadvertently caused you.

This was his fault. And his own mind made sure to remind him of that over and over and over again.

If it weren't for his lack of control around you, you would've been innocent and happy baking cookies and living a life in which none of this was ever even a possibility for you. The least he could've done was be an advocate for your innocence, and get you home.

What he didn't stop to consider was that you were absolutely terrified. Actually, terrified could only describe the surface level of emotions you were feeling.

It had been three days since any of your needs were met all the while being manipulated by people much more powerful than you, and triggered by the behaviors of the men who had you in custody.

You didn't even know where you were, not the building, not the city, not the state. You hadn't eaten anything the entire time you were in custody, and anytime you even tried to sip on water, you couldn't hold back your sobs long enough to choke it down.

There was a lot of time to process your arrest. It was the first time in your life you had even seen a gun in person, let alone have 6 fully automatic weapons pointed directly at you all at once. Harsh hand prints were bruised onto your shoulders, waist, and all over your arms. Your knees were bruised and scraped, your entire face hurt from crying for so long, your back was thrown out, and you were just exhausted.

Along side not eating or drinking, you also weren't sleeping much. It was taking a physical toll on your body.

You also had time to ponder if your time with Steve was worth all of this, because when it all started you thought you were facing county jail and a fine. Not being abducted by the government and starved. You determined that he was worth every star in the sky, and you'd put up with this for as long as your body would allow it to.

But you couldn't deny that the time and distance apart from him was making you feel as though you were so tiny and insignificant in the world he lived in. And if he was out there somewhere, you doubted that you even took up space in his mind anymore. So much of your life had changed since he left, and every day you feel further and further from that girl he loved once upon a time, and all things considered, you were just you.

He wasn't just him. He was a superhero, a role model, a life saver, a war fighter. If your life had significantly changed for you as an every day civilian, you could only imagine he also felt like a whole different person than the man you loved too. He was on the front line, and you were in the very back line.

It wasn't his fault that you felt so far away from him, honestly, it was probably yours. Pushing yourself further and further away from the truth that losing him in your daily life had led you towards so much pain.

You were quite literally at your lowest, hungry and crying on the floor of a temporary cell you were pretty sure was just supposed to be an interrogation room.

There was a table and a chair in there, but you didn't feel safe enough to even sit in the stainless steel trap. You stayed curled up in the corner, desperately trying to stay awake. Jumping at every sound, flinching at every passing footstep, uncontrollably crying at every agent who came in to talk to you.

Every once in a while there would be hours in between anyone coming to check on your state of being, and you'd convince yourself it was better that way. Anything was better than being transported and man handled again.

No matter how scared you were, at some point your body completely shut down and forced your mind to sleep, only to be woken up hours later by a slam so loud it shook the ground and yelling you could hear loud and clear through the door.

The anger and volume in which the shouting happened caused your whole body to tremble like a chihuahua in one of those sad shelter commercials.

Convincing yourself to just breathe through the fear, you were able to pick up a few phrases that made you stop thinking about everything but those words entirely.

"My criminal record was fully scrubbed, there's no reason for her to be punished for anything she did. It doesn't matter anymore."

"You guys are treating her like she killed people, all she did was treat me kindly"

"Lay your hands on her one more time and I swear on everything that I'll bust her out of there and never come back."

You couldn't believe what you were hearing, and you didn't want to believe what your gut was telling you. And if it was who you thought it was, you never imagined you'd hear him shouting like that.

Not wanting to believe either of those possibilities were true, not wanting to get your hopes up or become even more hurt, you covered your ears with your cuffed hands and hid your face in your injured knees.

When the time came and an agent placed the key to your cuffs into Steve's palm, he started walking towards your holding room faster that he's ever walked before. Natasha stayed behind and decided to wait in the lobby to give the two of you space.

Getting Steve to talk about you was like pulling teeth, and that's exactly how Nat knew the extent of how precious you were to him. If she hadn't previously met you, she didn't know if at this point she would even be aware of your existence.

When you heard steps approaching, and saw shadows of feet under the door, you covered your ears tighter, and sunk your face deeper into your legs.

You hated the sound of the security code being typed into the keypad, and you despised the click of the door unlocking and opening even more.

But when it did, just as always you cried a little harder, and flinched at the approaching footsteps. This time was different though, as you waited for an agent to start yelling at you, it never happened.

Steve's heart broke as he opened the door and saw you curled up in the corner. This wasn't the happy reunion he had dreamed of since the moment he left, but it was even more bitter sweet than saying goodbye to you.

You had been through a lot and all on your own, arguably more than him. You were smack dab in the middle of one of the biggest traumas of your life, all while being triggered by passed events.

He understood that he was probably one of the last people you wanted to see right now, he even understood that you would be terrified of him right off the bat. You had just listened to him rudely yelling at everyone under the sun for a while, one of your biggest triggers and fears was loud, disruptive men.

The second he stepped in he considered turning right around and getting Natasha to come remove your cuffs and bring you up to their private sector. Maybe you'd feel less on edge around a woman, especially one you trusted and had bonded with once before. But he also didn't want you to feel ignored by him, he didn't want you realizing you were in his place of living without seeing his face or being made comfortable by him.

So he did his best to take the most gentle approach he could. He closed the door behind him so softly it wouldn't make a sound, he walked so carefully as to not make a single thud with his food as if he was sneaking up on an enemy in battle.

Every step closer he took, you could still tell someone was in the room with you, so you tried to push yourself deeper into the corner hoping it would swallow you whole and you'd completely disappear.

You physically couldn't get yourself to look up until someone unusual happened. Whoever was in the room with you had cautiously sat on the floor in front of you and settled in.

"Hey, Sunflower" The calm and comforting voice filled your ears.

Your eyes snapped open, full body chills rushed over your skin as you peaked through your eyelashes, still unwilling to lift your head. In front of you sat Steve, you had never felt so much relief in your entire life for a multitude of reasons.

He looked different. A clean shaven face and a shorter hair cut, scar on his forehead, his usual street ware was replaced with jeans and a nice button down flannel. You assumed this version of him was a lot more typical than the version of him you knew, but he was still so handsome this way.

"I'm so sorry this happened" He apologized, his voice even quieter and more comforting than before. "Is it okay if I take your handcuffs off?"

It had been awhile since you spoken a single word, and right now you didn't even know what to say to him.

Although you knew he would never hurt you, and you were relieved to have him with you now, your brain still wanted to push everyone away. It was in flight or fight, and getting it to listen to your heart saying that he was safe to be around was hard.

But he knew that, and that's why he was maintaining a gentle approach. He vividly remembered that night he got a glimpse of the full extent in which men in your life had scarred you. He knew you'd need some time to warm up, you needed your needs met, you needed a few hours to not feel so scared anymore.

You nodded before reluctantly letting go of the sides of your face and holding your wrists out to him. Steve reached out slowly and unlocked the mechanism allowing them to pop open. He gently took them off your wrists and put them on the floor, revealing your irritated red skin beneath where they once clung to your body.

"Gosh, they put those on so tight" He winced looking at your wrists. "Does it hurt?"

You nodded once again, your tears now fell because you forgot what it was like to be around someone who genuinely cared about you.

"Can I?" He asked, sticking his hands out towards yours.

You hesitantly placed your shaky hands in each of his, desperately trying to get your mind to recognize that he wasn't going to hurt you, trying so hard to think of any words you could say to him.

He very delicately moved his hands upwards to your wrist, and carefully massaged where the cuffs once were. It felt so nice, you wanted to melt into a puddle on the floor.

"Does that feel better?" He questioned with a worried expression on his face. When you nodded once more, he continued. "Do you know anything about where you are?"

This time you shook your head.

"You're in New York, upstate." He explained to you. "This is a criminal intake center meant for agent interrogation here at the Avengers Compound. I live in this building but I had no clue you were here until an hour and a half ago."

You slowly lifted your head but kept your eyes fixed on your wrists in his hands. Teeny tiny baby steps, but it made him happy.

"I was looking for you since you called, came down as soon as I heard." He continued. "I got it all squared away for you, okay? You don't have to worry about anything. Your criminal record has been completely scrubbed, and you're free to go."

You finally made eye contact, then your mind went crazy again. You didn't have an ID on you, no money, no cards, not even a phone or access to a computer. Then the words finally came to you in a moment of worry. "I don't know how to get home"

"It's okay" he reassured you. "When you're ready and if you're okay with it, I'll bring you to my place. We'll get you settled and I'll fly you home. Is that alright?"

"Thank you" You cried, the words came out broken.

"I'm so sorry." He apologized again. "I'm disgusted by the way this was handled, this should've never happened."

"Not your fault" You squeezed your eyes shut and shook your head.

"And I'm sorry you had to hear me yelling like that, I know that probably scared you. I know it'll take some time to settle down from all of this, but I'm here for you. Whatever you need, I'll make it happen, okay?"

"It's okay" Your voice still broken.

The more he spoke, the more you calmed down. You felt almost immediately safer and more grounded in his presence, everything you were worried about before had flown out of the window. He was exactly the same, and it started to feel like no time had passed at all.

The more fear that left your body, the more you wanted to hug him, kiss him, just have him in your arms again. But honestly you felt disgusting and definitely didn't look the best.

"Are you alright, did they hurt you?" He asked, feeling genuinely concerned about the way the agents handled you.

You nodded before rolling up the loose sleeve of your hoodie, revealing the marks your body was littered in. A darkness settled in his eyes as he took in the state of your body, then you lifted the hem of show him the small of your waist, also covered in black and blue hand prints.

"If they didn't already lose their jobs, I'd be losing mine right about now." He admitted his anger. "Do you feel like you need some medical help? We have private doctors, they're very nice. I could stay with you the whole time."

Your heart warmed that he remembered another one of your fears, but you still shrugged. "I don't know what I need."

"That's okay" He continued massaging your wrists. "How about we get you out of here and more comfortable at my place then we'll reassess in a bit?"

You nodded in agreement, feeling so thankful that this mess was over and that Steve lived so close. Just as you were about to get up, he slipped in more comforting words.

"I know this is an awful circumstance, but I really am so happy to see you." He admitted.

You slid your wrists out of his hold to grab his hands with yours instead. "I'm happy to see you too" You nodded, more tears falling down your cheeks. "I didn't really even know if you were alive until now."

His eyes softened as he realized he hadn't been seen in the public eye since Thanos snapped, and all his attempts to reach out to you had failed in one way or the other. You didn't even get to know that he did answer the phone when you called.

"I'm so sorry" he cautiously apologized. "You can't get rid of me that easily"

"Thank goodness for that"

Steve stood up and held his hands out for you, you took them once more and he very carefully helped you up. You stumbled upon standing, getting used to being up on your own feet again while feeling so weak from lack of anything in your body, but you caught your balance.

"I've got you" Steve reassured once again. "Everyone is gone by the way, it's just Natasha out there waiting for us."

"What happened to everyone else?" You asked, trying hard not to externally flinch every time Steve moved, his hand cautiously and lightly resided on your lower back. You could tell he was worried that you would fall or else he definitely wouldn't be touching you right now.

"Getting fired" Steve answered honestly, guiding you out of the door.

As you stepped out of the room and turned the corner of the hallway out into the main reception area, you saw Natasha who lit up with a warm smile.

"Sugar cookie, you poor thing" She approached, reaching out to you slowly, squeezing your shoulders before tucking some of your hair behind your ears. "I'm so happy you're okay."

The nickname reminded you of Sam that one night that felt like lifetimes ago, and it pulled your lips upwards into the tiniest smile that prevailed through the tears.

"It's nice to see you again, Nat" You tried to keep up the smile in attempts to be warm to someone who meant a lot to Steve, but it was impossibly hard. "Thanks for the help."

"Of course, anytime." Nat nodded, stepping in front of you to lead you back to their home.

No matter how exciting a grand tour of the fucking Avengers Compound would've been for a small town girl like you, there was an unspoken agreement that now was not the time.

Steve didn't even really find it appropriate to show you around the living space yet before ushering you straight to his room, and getting you set up for the only thing you could actually express want for which was a shower.

After some reassurance that he would be right there waiting for you when you were done, you let hot water calm you before changing into the comfort of Steve's clothes and shyly walking into his room.

It was a lot bigger than you had anticipated, and so much cozier that you thought was possible in a building that felt so cold and mechanical. And just as promised, he was there for you. He sat on his bed, back against the headboard, laptop in front of him and he was talking to someone on the phone.

You listened as you slowly walked over, still feeling like your guard was up and three miles high.

"Yes, we have her." Steve said. "I can confirm she's very much alive and doing okay- relatively unharmed... yes sir.... I'll have her home soon. Yes sir... okay, thank you."

He hung up the phone and put it on his bedside before closing his laptop and doing the same, then all his attention was back on you with a kind grin across his lips.

Unexpectedly to Steve, you walked right up to him. He looked at you with a little concerned pinch in his eyebrows before you got on the bed and wrapped your arms tightly around him.

"Awwwww" Steve audibly cooed, uncontrollably smiling and very cautiously wrapping his arms around your back. "Sweet girl."

"I missed you, baby." You said quietly, hiding your face in the crook of his neck.

"I missed you too, so so much" He rubbed comforting stripes down your spine. "I'm so happy to have you here. Are you starting to feel better?"

"A little" You confirmed.

Just in the very short amount of time you've spent since reuniting, even in your scared, clouded brain you could see the guilt looming over Steve and Natasha's heads. You didn't even know if you should bring up what happened, or how to even begin asking him how life has been treating him since the last time you were together.

"It's gonna take some time." He told you as a reminder to keep being easy on yourself. "I just got off the phone with the chief of police in Greenwood, apparently nobody filled them in on the situation so there's been a search party out for you for two days now."

"Can we just tell everyone I was kidnapped?" You asked, half joking. "That's easier than what actually happened."

"I would 100% count that as an abduction."

"And I was saved by Captain America and Black Widow."

Steve giggled and pressed a kiss into your temple. A comfortable silence fell over the two of you, fully letting each others bodies comfort your minds as the passed few months had been nothing but painful.

But you found the courage to lift your head and look at his face, your heart was beating out of your chest even just by really looking at him.

The fading scar, his big blue eyes, the bare cheeks you weren't used to seeing. It all told a story of what he had been through, and your couldn't even begin to grasp it. You were lying in the arms of a man who had just been hurt by the hands of the titan who destroyed half the universe. He had seen the unimaginable, been hurt by beings you'd never even come close to, fought battles for the sake of the universe with the two hands that were holding you close.

It suddenly felt so stupid to be so emotionally destroyed over the nature of your arrest, especially when he was looking right back at you.

"You look good, honey." You complemented, bringing your hand up to trace the scar on his forehead. "A lot different, but still so beautiful."

"I think you've gotten even prettier" Steve complemented.

"Wow, that's shocking" You genuinely smiled. "All I've been doing for the passed few months is staying inside and eating spicy Doritos."

"They're so much better than the normal ones" Steve commented.

"Right?!" You agreed. "Dare I ask you how you've been?"

Steve sighed, his lips pressed into a straight line. "I'll tell you all about it when you're in a little bit of a better place, but all you need to know about it right now is that after it happened I made sure you were still here the very second I could, then after that we just kept trying and haven't stopped since."

"So you've been busy?" You questioned, once again feeling warmed over his thoughtfulness and genuine care over your well-being.

"Yeah, I've been busy." he nodded. "And for whatever it's worth, I hope you've been okay despite what happened."

"I think we're all just trying our best, and that's all we can do."

Steve nodded, trying to think of words to acknowledge the Avengers failure. He promised they would keep you safe, and although you're right here in front of him, there was a 50% chance you could've been gone. Even after you survived the blip, you still were put in a situation that was unsafe by people who worked under the same wing as him. Not only did the Avengers fail, but he failed you.

Now you were here with him, in a place he never would've imagined you in. Your body covered in bruises and his sweatpants, red eyes and nose, and a sad facial expression that would take a while to dissolve.

He really thought that getting absolved of his crimes from the civil war would wash away the guilt he's always felt since as long as he could remember, but now he had a whole new criteria in front of him. A whole new binder stuffed full of pages written with ways he's fucked up, hurt and lost the people he loved. Each page was laminated and slotted into plastic sheet protectors just to make sure he never forgot what was said and done.

His mind ran away from him, guilt ate him away until he felt your soft lips on his and it pulled him right back. Closed eyes and a sigh of relief, being with you was the first time in a while he felt any sense of control. It was as though he was a helium balloon floating through the air, and you caught him and tied the string around your wrist.

"You tried your best, too." You reminded him, seeing his internal battle. Your lips brushing against his.

"We killed him." Steve blurted out. "We lost, but we killed him."

You sat up slightly, trying to process this information. It was obvious the public wasn't being informed of everything, and although Steve wanted to protect your peace, he just couldn't keep that information in.

"What?" You blinked, cocking your head to the side.

"Thanos." Steve confirmed. "We went to a planet that he was hiding away on and we killed him."

You weren't sure what he wanted you do get out of that information, or where he was going with it, but you tried your hardest to understand.

"I was just so... angry. I was thinking about you, and I lost Sam, Bucky- we thought if we got the stones back we could just snap again and everyone would come back but when we got there, they were destroyed. We missed them by one day." Steve explained. "That was our second and only chance, we failed twice. Thor took his head clean off."

"Steve-" you started, but he cut you off.

"We're not giving up but spirits have been very low, morale around here has never been so drab, and I think that's why those agents took their anger out on you. Everyone is just angry."

"Im not angry." You told him.

"I'm sorry" Steve apologized, shaking his head. "You've been through hell and back recently, and I feel like all of it has been because of me, and I'm sorry for that."

"None of this is your fault" You denied. "And I'd do it a thousand times over for you, Honey. You tried your best, you've always done the best you've could and you've done great things because of it. I'm thankful for you."

"Who did you lose?" He asked.

"It doesn't matter" Just like he felt the need to protect you, you needed to protect him. "Not right now at least."

He nodded, understanding where you were coming from. "What is Greenwood like?"

"Well," you sat up more and grinned. "Everyone was very excited that good ol' Cap was in town so your driveway is full of love letters and flowers just for you."

"Awwwww, did Georgia leave me one too?" He joked.

You audibly laughed out loud, "the only thing Georgia sent you was me."

"No way" His eyes got big, mouth hung open.

"Way" you nodded.

"She reported us?" He questioned, stunned at this information.

"Then watched me get taken away, drinking tea like it was a bucket of popcorn at the movie theater." You explained.

"That little-" Steve started, but stopped himself before puffing out a breath. "Ugh! Why!?"

You giggled at his discipline, "not everyone can handle all of your greatness, baby."

"Yeah, yeah." Steve rolled his eyes. "Should I go knock on her door when I get to Greenwood and tell her about how you were found innocent?"

"I think she would beat you with a fly swatter" You smiled.

"I've been shot a few times, I think it would be worth the beating to see the look on her face." Steve giggled.

"Always up to no good, baby." You shook your head with a playful grin.

"It's what I'm known for" Steve agreed.

"I have a question." You said shyly, hands playing with the fabric of his flannel button up.

"What's up?" He welcomed your curiosity.

"So, you're going to take me home but is there anyway you can stay? Even just for a day or two?" The thought of leaving him so soon after you had just got him back was hurting your heart.

"You know, I actually had a visit to Greenwood planned in a week? It was on the team calendar and everything." He told you.

"Really?" You smiled, just the thought made you happy.

"Yeah, I made myself unavailable for the Avengers for three weeks. I thought some time away from here and time with you would be good for me." He explained. "But I'll talk with the team and see if I can just extend it."

"Even if you can't, I'm more than happy now"

"I was thinking maybe you can stay the night here and I'll take you back tomorrow morning? I know it's been a long few days and you probably just want to go home but, if you think you need a doctor there's one just down the hall." He explained.

"Anything to spend more time with you" You nodded, resting your head on his shoulder.

"Maybe Georgia unknowingly did us a favor. Because know you're completely clean of any crime and we finally get a few more minutes." Steve grinned, kissing the top of your head.

"And when you come back to Greenwood we won't have to hide anymore." You pointed out.

"I'm so happy" Steve couldn't control his smile. "But I'll be even happier once I know you're okay."

"I'm feeling so much better now" You admitted. Hungry? Yes. Exhausted? Absolutely. But, "I always feel so safe when you're around."

"I love you so much" He held you just a little tighter, with more confidence it wasn't going to scare you.

"I love you too" You nuzzled into him.

"Okay, now let me catch you up on everything you need to know before being around the Avengers for a day..."

"Oh no" You settled in for what you assumed would be some interesting pointers as he reached for a throw blanket and put it over the two of you.

"They're an interesting bunch, well, half bunch...and there might be a talking Raccoon that comes around..."

Next Part: Homecoming

Tag list: @patzammit @bemysugarbean @buckymydarlingangel @happinessinthebeing @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @differenttyphoonwerewolf @themotherof10 @lokislady82 @talesofadragon @spikeluv84 @xxxalicerogersxx @avid-fic-reader @royalwriteroftheuniverse @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @bitchy-bi-trash @crazyunsexycool @openup-yourmind @selella @kattreffic @benedict-squirtle @magnificentsaladllama

Have any thoughts or theories? Head cannons or scenarios you want me to write of nomad Steve and baker reader? Submit them to my inbox! I’ll add them to the more fun stuff masterlist here!

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twothpaste · 1 year ago

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chapter opener i finished recently, featuring a tazmily town hall meeting where lucas n' his neighbors debate the fate of chimeras in a postgame world :')

When Porky took Leder, there'd been no place left for him anyways. His bell tower soon to be razed, and paved right over. His memory, ironically enough, soon to be unceremoniously dissolved. Surely his height marked him as an untenable outlier. His sealed lips, insubordination of the highest degree. Silence was heresy back in those days. It branded little Lucas a black sheep, too. Sob your guts out, or concede there was nothin' left to say. Either way, you're outta line. Y'couldn't win, with neighbors turned swine.

Kid had proven his heart the biggest outta all of 'em. Did it long before layin' hands on any o' those Needles. Stop short at the crossroads, to take an upward gander. The tall, vast, heavenward gap between six years old n' twenty feet tall. He'd shield his sun-dazzled eyes, lifting a freckled forearm. Wave his spare hand. Sway its precious cargo.

"Hiya, Mister Leder. How're you today?"

A smile flittered down, carried by the mornin' shine.

"Eheh. M'glad to hear it. Psst. Hey. I gotcha summ'n…"

A hesitant hand descended. All taffy-stretched bones, and veins, and worn crinkles. Lucas raised the loaf as high as his tiny hands n' tippy-toes'd go. Nuts n' bread were a dime a dozen, o' course. But couldn't no one else bake a batch so scrumptious. Good ol' Missus Hinawa Westwood was in a league all her own.

Maybe this'd never been any place for either of 'em. Or her. Or the lot of 'em.

Or. Maybe his apocalyptic pessimism was just gettin' the better of him. As it's wont to do, every now n' again.

The honorable judge presided now over his four hundred and seventy-second hearing. He remembers 'em all, if you were curious. In excruciating detail. From Eaglelandian war crimes to White Ship spats. Humble as he may be, there's a good reason Tazmily chose him for his noble task, besides sheer verticality. Madman's got a Betamax for a brain. Be it a blessing or a curse.

"… management, maintenance, n' rehabilitation. As Nowhere's Ranger Service, really, our goal is gettin' back to where we were, erm. Before." Isaac nudged his glasses up the bridge of his nose. Voice like ashes crumpled underfoot. He'd put up a noble speech, to be sure. Albeit punctuated by his pensive pause.

Lucas, all anxious nerves, reputation rubbed raw, nonetheless held his place beside him. Stalwart pillar of sticks n' stones. The hero who wore no cape nor shining armor. Just a scrappy flannel, over lanky arms. And a half-chiseled, acne-addled countenance.

When he spoke - in that low, steady, novel rumble - the paternal resemblance gave even Flint himself goosebumps.

"People n' wildlife can coexist. Like we used to. If we're willin' to put in the work."

Turn your stovetop knob, and heat the town hall's bustle to a low boil. There were Betsy n' Jackie, murmuring amongst themselves. Biff n' Butch, doin' the same. To the tune of Jill's silencing snap. Most folks had filed into these creaky old seats with intent to vote "present." But one could hardly ignore the Ostrelephant in the room. Jonel would be its bullhorn.

"That's precisely the issue. Chimeras aren't wildlife." And the sky isn't pink. He stood, proudly, for such things. Atop creaky knees and shins. (Though Dona did have to help him clamber to his feet.) "You expect us to coexist with monsters? Forever? It's childish at best. Lucas, I can forgive your naivete. But Isaac? You ought to know better."

"'Scuse me?"

"Order," Leder croaked. A singular raised index finger, a sip from his water canteen, and a hush over the hall. No gavel strike necessary. "Order. Jonel?"

"Pardon," Jonel said. (Though he wouldn't beg.) "There's only one solution for the menace infesting our woods. Anyone who says otherwise? I believe they're kidding themselves. That's all."

Their elder's dissent, and subsequent descent, were met with no protest. Just Isaac's steely frown. And Lucas' deep, focused, evenly-paced breaths.

Let it.

A psychic, had any others attended, would've felt the aura's feverous simmer. But Tazmilian politics're no place for his sister. She'd proclaimed so herself. Andonuts had installed a calendar program in his brother's left brain, years prior. Claus marked the date. Highlighted it - a bright, cautionary red.

And took a shift at the wind farm.

Can't blame him.

Magenta, magenta, yellow.

"Have we any further thoughts?" coaxed Leder.

"Well."

Even standing, Andonuts was far too squat for most to see, across a field of perked heads. The Doctor's accent would have to suffice. Paired with his quaint, crinkly, nonagenarian timbre.

"I'm afraid I must concur with the former point. Chimeras were not designed to integrate into natural ecosystems. Ha! Quite the contrary! Many were reconstructed with the explicit intent to cause as much disruption as possible!"

Jonel glanced about, eyebrows perked. Ed's faint murmur, "Right outta the horse's mouth, huh…" caught his nodding attention.

"… That said, with regards to chimera research, my student and I have been making great strides. They can be pacified. And relocated, to environments that better suit them. I daresay, there may indeed be sustainable solutions. If Tazmily were to establish this Ranger operation, the two of us would be more than happy to collaborate."

"And, if not? Or, if these Rangers fail to keep the chimeras in check?" Ed inquired, with a raised hand. Jonel would push the bill a step further.

"Would you also be happy to assist in their extermination, if it came to that? Doctor?"

"Mm… If we do find ourselves in an otherwise untenable scenario? Perhaps, yes."

Andonuts spent his golden years an eccentric recovering centrist. Claus forgave him ages ago. Lucas makes his best efforts. This recollection, in particular, still demands he strain his mercy through clenched teeth.

Like their father, he said nothing. You can call it patience.

"That just don't seem right, is all…"

A couple dozen turned to size up the latest opinion. 'Course, Abbott's no easier to spot beneath a crowd. Those nearest would see Abbey risin' to his side. N' the smiley-faced bairn - an absolute tater tot - strapped snug to his chest. 'Course, no sooner than Abbott opened his mouth to stake a humble point, little Abelle piped right up. Drawing him instead to gently shush her bubbly baby babbles. "Oh, sorry, sorry. Gosh, what'samatter, lil' bits? Shh. Shhh…"

(Unbeknownst to anybody at all - the invisible strands she was pawin' and hawin' at were, in fact, magenta-yellow wavelengths.)

"What Abbott means, I reckon," Abbey volunteered, "Is that it'd be awful cruel to.. well. To do away with 'em. Don't get us wrong - we've dealt with chimera attacks as much as the rest o' ya. N' we want Nowhere to be a safe place for our daughter to grow up, o' course. But… ah.."

Her eyelids slipped faintly shut. Only a moment. As if recalling some long-bygone horror. With no hummingbird egg nor ringing bell to keep the smog at bay, it had all come seeping back. Couldda taken the shape of a TV news report. Rigor mortis. Perhaps a mushroom cloud. Whichever. Every scathing scrap, beheld by the big, teary doe eyes of a mere fawn.

".. This world's seen far too much killin' already. I think."

"Agreed," said Flint. His sole verbal contribution. Upon his neighbors' silent judgments and sympathies, he pulled the brim of his hat lower. And cleared his throat.

Brief as it was somber, a smile flickered - cyan - past Lucas' ramparts.

Abelle quieted down. With a giggle. Much to Abbott's grinnin' relief. "Heh - erm. Yep.. Agreed, indeed." He cast a warily appreciative gaze toward the hulking, skulking cowboy. Then extended an arm around his wife's shoulder. The lot of 'em hunkered back into quiet obscurity.

"It's like stray cats," came Nana's contribution. Hand raised high, outta the wild blue yonder. "Or. Maybe not, exactly. We had a colony of them, living under the post office. And they were real ornery, wouldn't let you near. Bateau told me to stop feeding them, after they caught one of his doves." Cue the rolling eyes, and yawns. Elbows n' palms propping up bored-already chins. "But they'd only come close if I fed them, see. Only when they trusted me enough - then I could get them in carriers, and move them to the woods, by the crossroads. And so long as I make sure they stay fed, they won't need to come back to the post office, or hunt Bateau's doves, or cause trouble for anyone."

Bateau - arms n' legs crossed, camped out somewhere far in the back - huffed a sigh so dramatic, you'd think he was a Shakespearean actor.

"So. Maybe it's like that. Every animal has needs. Even people, and chimeras. If the Rangers can take good care of the chimeras, maybe they won't be as much of a bother."

"Yeah. That's, ehm. That's the idea…" Isaac murmured.

Jill stood up to contend. "Or maybe that'll get 'em too familiar. And then they'll come closer to town. Stir up even more of a ruckus. Don't you know, they used to warn you about this exact thing, with bears. You kids're too young to remember. Had to shoot the poor things, when they got too comfortable with people. I think Jonel's got a point. It all comes back around to--"

"-- This is different."

She stopped short. Left her big mouth hangin' wide open. 'Cause it sure as hell ain't like Lucas to interrupt.

"… Sorry," he said. With not quite a fist, clutched almost to his chest. "Sorry."

"No, no. Do tell. Go on." Jill conceded, with both hands raised. A hint of snark on her lips. Wouldda made Lucas wince, if he were five or six years younger. Still stung just the same.

Leder's eyes were sympathy incarnate. His spectacles, however, hovered impartial atop the proceedings. He'd hold his tongue. This time.

"It's.. different. The way we're doin' it. Isaac used to be a park ranger. We know all that, already."

Rather than elaborate, Isaac opted for a gingerly nod. Leave it to two of Tazmily's most tormented introverts to deliver a founding presentation. Lucas would steady his spine, though. Stand firm before the naysayers. Nerves ablaze. It doesn't get easier. Nor any less vital.

"Look. Nana's right. They ain't monsters. They're livin' creatures. Got needs that ain't bein' met. We took -- agh. Porky, took 'em… Tore 'em up, put 'em back together, n' set 'em loose to fend for themselves."

And then Tazmily deliberated their fate, over an open floor, as if it were all some absent hypothetical. Some game, just to square their morals. Like he didn't have the bone fractures to show for it. Like the beast that impaled his mother hadn't been a shambling centrifuge of absolute agony. Like his brother wasn't out there, bustin' his ass right under their stuck-up noses, mis-matched hands buildin' their newfangled comforts, their future, they --

Shh.

And something stirred within his guts. Softly as fresh bedsheets, or honeyed tea. Prompted an exhale. A pause. Yellow.

You wanna talk about planted seeds? Hinawa's got a whole garden in there.

Lucas takes great care to tend it. Food, and water. And silence. And words. Like so:

"… Chimeras don't attack people outta some kinda malice. They're.. They're scared. They're hurt. In their shoes? You'd prob'ly do the same." Evidence he carried in spades. There's a scar on his ankle, from his first reluctant bout with a Slitherhen. And another on his forearm, where a sparking blade once braced. He'd locked eyes, just above it. Met tears with tears. Somethin' yet darker - or brighter - than primal terror.

"They've got just as much a right to life, as anyone here," he concluded. Shaking his head. Glancin' downward, at the millimeter gaps in the hardwood.

"Well. I reckon that might be goin' a bit too far," Jill replied. Oblivious to the glares she'd just earned, from about half the crowd. As well as the sage nods, from the like-minded remainder. Biff, cowering beside her, fell into the former camp. Butch, the latter.

Jonel would grab her coattails. Ride 'em, valiantly, into one last round.

"Lucas. You've got your mother's bleeding heart. I respect it. Truly, I do. And I do believe there's a sanctity to our forest, our wilderness, the creatures with which we share these Islands. But these chimeras? Please understand - we'd be doing them a great mercy."

Mercy?

The word - which he mouthed, but did not echo - was Antarctic permafrost to his tongue. Shiver down his spinal fluid. The winding cockles of his brain. How love could erupt into a blinding nova. Turn harsher than steel. Become his fiercest weapon, pulled blood-soaked from his own chest.

Magenta. Yellow. Cyan.

"It's simply unnatural," Jill n' Butch concurred. "Un-natural."

"Tragic shame they're here at all," Ed mumbled, from afar.

"They never were supposed to be here, to begin with," Jonel insisted. Lucas thought, for a split second, Mom forgive him, his throbbing head might just up and explode then and there.

But.

Isaac stepped forward. The forest warden. The hermit. The boot-licking traitor. Who'd shirked his pig's mask, his calamine uniform, his pride - for an old vest that reeked of forest fires. N' a rusty badge. Gold to bronze. Turns out Zeus, and the Commander, ain't the only ones with a penchant for amends.

Wasn't often that someone stood up, in Lucas' stead.

The kid stared. Frozen stiff. Reconstructed Caribou in the headlights. As his fellow amalgamation declared:

"Neither were we."

And if you were seated amongst the crowd, you'd've felt it. The seasick lurch. The tide's tousle, at the rickety feet of every chair. Hardwood floor transfigured, in all of an instant, into a White Ship's deck.

No one - save for little Abelle - had the stomach to pipe up, after that.

Leder's hoarse murmur would follow a queasy, stagnant silence.

"Ehm.. If there are no further objections, or endorsements?"

And there were none.

"Then. Regarding the establishment of Nowhere's Ranger Service… All in favor - say aye…"

#as if they are not all violently hodge-podged products of disparate lives themselves.#ah-choo #2thprose #osha's eleven

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blackandwhiteandrose · 2 years ago

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Trivia Tuesday -> What-the-fact Wednesday

Creators: give a “behind the scenes” look at one of your works. This could be things that got removed or changed, the origins of ideas/details, whatever you like!

thanks for the tags @mostlyinthemorning and @hippolotamus!

In the past, I’ve seen/gotten comments about how many people I thank/acknowledge in my author’s notes. I guess some people think it’s excessive or something. If you can make it through the entire writing/posting process alone, you are a far stronger person than I am.

Being creative is awesome, but it’s also exhausting. I’m a good writer, but I also really appreciate having a group (team?) of people that I know make me better.

So, this is my explanation:

When I thank someone in my author’s notes, it’s because they’ve contributed in some way and I’m big on giving credit where it’s due. Whether it was a line or an idea or answering some weirdo questions I asked them - whatever it may be - I’m grateful that person was involved.

I have my CFOs (chief flailing officials) who are legit necessary to my accomplishing anything ever. Like most of the characters I love, I have a praise kink that can be seen from space. At various intervals or when I get stuck, I need someone to get in the doc, take a look around and go “this doesn’t suck, please proceed”, give me a headpat, and send me on my way to make more words.

I love to get opinions from someone who looks at stuff/processes differently than I do because they’re going to notice things that would never occur to me. As much as I need validation, I also need someone to tell me something isn’t working/sounds weird/feels out of place.

And a grammar wrangler. I’ll be the first to admit I’ve never met a comma I didn’t want to stick somewhere unnecessary and you can try to pry my em dashes out of my cold, dead hands. I finally (basically) trained myself out of ellipses (you’re welcome). I’ve even gone back and removed probably thousands of them from my earliest fics. So I’m thankful to have someone who actually understands punctuation and is willing to wade through all of my extraneous commas.

Very honestly, I would encourage everyone who writes to find someone (or several someones) that you trust to be collaborators. More eyeballs and brains produce better results and I’m so glad there are people who are willing to be my creative process partners in crime.

#BWR has thoughts #bless the betas #could not do it without them #trivia tuesday #wtf wednesday #fic writer #this is how we do it

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fand0mfan · 9 months ago

Note

on the one hand, I look at 18, 19, 20 year olds and I’m like sooo in awe like my generation could never. But also sometimes I’m like “yall are new at being a human being and it shows lmaooo.”

Yeah, pretty much this, in an ever increasing way.

I do think it kinda comes with getting older in ways that can't be helped as you get more and more life experience under your belt. You're definitely not insane.

I wouldn't say that it's "worked itself out" for me, but I've gotten better and better over time at holding both things as true: "the kids are all right" + "oh you sweet, naive summer child" / "holy shit young folks are amazing" + "i canNOT believe you're opening your mouth about [thing about which they can be woefully underinformed]"

I know this sounds like one of those "It gets better" ads, but truly, it does. I've found it gets less and less viscerally upsetting to me when i see people being Wrong on the Internet in fan communities. It's easier to see the amazing energy and creativity and innovation coming from young folks and sort of smh and go "you'll figure it out eventually".

I mean, I was one of those clueless-and-amazing 18 year old, too, and now almost 25 years after that, I just flew across the ocean to see the boys for London N4 and had an absolute BLAST at the back of the pit by the B-stage, stone cold sober, screaming my head off with my two new concert besties, who were 26 & 31 and maybe the most affectionate drunks I've ever met.

Fan communities are seriously wonderful and also hellishly annoying places, and the more I've been in 'em, the more I just pick out how my participation is going to make me happy. My work is spent doing a lot of education and anti-racism training and facilitating difficult conversations. So for me, fandom is my happy place, and when I remind myself that I don't actually have to do the teaching and facilitation bit in fandom, it's like a big sigh of relief.

OK, this post has got to end, because I feel like a SERIOUS granny with my punctuation and paragraphs and rocking chair on the porch misty-eyed reminiscence.

You're awesome, Halla. Maybe you're just in a moment of adding a new layer of life experience and perspective and change. That's not comfy, but it's also a pretty awesome part of getting older and wiser. It's like Matty said about himself: it's growing up.

/ grammy grams time

PS--WTH Spotify?! Be My Mistake is just kicking Halla while she's down.

You def don't really know me and my mostly lurking ways, but I wanted to send you a little note of support after reading about your ambivalence over fandom and 75blr.

I'm 42, and I've been in and out of a whole lot of fandoms over the past 20+ years. That includes The Ancient Texts of yahoo groups emails lists for fic, and individual fan archive websites, and Livejournal, and the birth of AO3, and Tumblr, etc etc (FandomOld TM).

Dunno how old you are exactly, but I absolutely know how sad and grief-filled it can be to feel like you're outgrowing or leaving behind or losing investment in a fan community that used to be a haven of welcome and connection for you.

FWIW, my advice (from someone who's gone through so many rounds of that) is to absolutely name that and mourn it. And then find your own way forward, whether that's online fandom or irl fandom or whatever aspect of the fandom makes you happy.

I remember the first time this happened to me, I thought I would never find a place like that first intense fandom experience. And then I did. And sometimes I wrote fic, and sometimes I blogged in a kind of "fandom anthropologist" way, and sometimes I recorded podfic, and sometimes I wrote exceedingly long comments, and sometimes I reblogged stuff, and sometimes I lurked.

And it's all been satisfying, once I've figure out how to participate in each different fandom and platform.

You can absolutely do that same thing.

And you are absolutely right to call it mourning and loss when you feel that disconnect growing.

💗💗💗

Oh my goodness, let me tell you, I barely made it through the second sentence of this message before breaking down in tears. (And because Spotify absolutely has it out for me, it chose this exact moment to start playing Be My Mistake 😭😭💀💀)

thank you so so so so much for your support and advice. 💜💜🩷🩷🤍🤍

You’re right, I mean, I have been part of different fandoms in different capacities. I’m 29 (which I didn’t think is THAT old in this fandom, especially since the boys themselves are in their mid thirties. But Post-TikTok —or post BFIAFL/ ATVB….idk what the tool if demarcation is anymore— it’s felt weirder and weirder) but I grew up on the internet and yeah, like you said, participated in different ways. This fandom has been the first though where I’ve felt like “oh this is not just a silly little hobby this actually matters” which is largely a reflection of the band and their art, I think cuz it’s not pop music (it’s not benign at best and vapid at worst). It’s like actually saying something. but it might also just be a function of growing up. Like, I think, suddenly, I’m old enough to feel like there’s a young generation that isn’t mine. Like I’m old enough to look back and have substantial memories of the past, or have different versions of my self that have fully existed and changed. It’s a bit of a trippy feeling. Cuz, on the one hand, I look at 18, 19, 20 year olds and I’m like sooo in awe like my generation could never. But also sometimes I’m like “yall are new at being a human being and it shows lmaooo.” and it’s weird cuz a part of me is like “these kids are new at this. It’s my job to teach them or to set an example” (it’s like matty used to say during the NOACF era, the empowerment is designed for young people. You gotta make sure they feel it) but the other part of me sometimes wants to be like “open up the schools go do your homework and drink chocolate milk you little kiddos” HAHA. idk maybe it’s just part of the process you kinda have to feel these things by a certain age? Does it ever work itself out in your experience? Are am I just insane? Lmao. thanks again for the support it means so much for real 💗 I’m not very eloquent rn cuz I’m having 100963639 emotions at once but yeah 🩷

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neon-prison · 2 years ago

Text

Crossed Wires Ch 8

AO3 link HERE.

Pairing: Delamain/V

Status: Ongoing

Rating: E (Mostly M)

V spent the next few days unpacking all the shit she’d klepped. Word on the street said Netwatch was out in full force, scouring the net with the digital equivalent of a fine toothcomb. She guessed they were banking on some rookie mistake, hitting up known circles in hopes of finding classified intel to trace back to their thief, but V knew better than to hawk hot info for a quick payday. Laying low was both the smart and efficient play, and she took advantage of the downtime to put her affairs in order. Plus, there was a lot to sort through once she’d unarchived the files, from organizing loose information to untangling deeply embedded digital mines that would fry most runners at first contact.

The work should have been tedium, but it was a welcome respite from the storm of string in the physical world, and V took her time, picking and sorting everything into neat little packets with timed triggers. It was as close to a will as she was gonna get. Most of it would have to sit on the back burner for a week or two, but there was one piece of info that couldn’t wait. Opening her holo, V sent out a ping.

Wakako picked up almost immediately. “Hello, V,” she said politely but with the ever-present undertone of impatience. “What can I do for you?” V had known Wakako for far too long to take a question like that at face value. Despite the pleasantries, the fixer was all biz.

“I got something for you.” V didn’t bother with niceties, knowing that the fixer didn’t have much tolerance for them anyways. She punctuated the sentence with a packet of data and waited patiently as Wakako’s runner scanned it for malware.

Wakako’s jaw suddenly clenched, the only flaw in her otherwise flawless facade of unnerving civility. A long pause bloomed between them until the fixer tersely broke it, “What…do I owe you for this?” A prudent question, given how steep the tab could go.

That is if it were anyone else on the line but V.

“Nothin’,” She said, toppling the fundamental pillar of their quid-pro-quo relationship in one word.

“That is not how business is done,” Wakako whispered, dangerous. V was treading on thin ice, and she knew better than anyone about the terrible dangers lurking below the fixer’s brittle stillness. But confident in her footing, she met the Wakako’s flinty glare, all preamble gone, as cold and serious as she’d ever been.

“You know this isn’t biz,” she could’ve asked the Wakako for the fuckin’ moon and still had a fistful of favors to burn, but there were things in this life more important than eddies. No reason to insult Wakako by telling her it was personal…for both of ‘em. She’d grown up with Akira and dined at the Okada family’s house more often than she could count. They were good people, innocent- an unfortunately tempting combination for Arasaka, who were looking to take a cheap shot at the Tyger Claw’s leadership following a disastrous raid. Years later, V didn’t understand what the death of a fourteen-year-old boy netted them, except Wakako’s black rage, simmering to this day.

They squared off in silence until Wakako relented, “I will not forget this.” The veneer of civility was long gone, leaving only the bitter, conniving hag that counted a never-ending list of grudges. “Thank you, V.” At least she could cross one off the list.

Too bad she’d never be around to see Wako put those fuckers into the ground, another regret V wouldn’t live to enjoy. Unsure what to do with the emotions coursing through her, V settled on a shrug. “Have a good one, Wakako,” she said, shutting off the holo and flopping back against the bed with a vague sense of anxiety.

Hanako’s sudden text compounded it, reminding V that the hour of reckoning was approaching. The meet was set for tomorrow, date and time as immutable as the laws of gravity. Idly, she thumbed through the rest of her contacts, a small smile tilting the corners of her mouth as V checked off each one. If the time for regrets was over, then at least she’d wrapped up as many loose ends as she could. Ends wrapped, V found herself awkwardly free. The absence of urgency forced her to pace across her apartment to try and drain the anxiety. The sun was going to set soon, usually an indicator to get her ass in gear for the next gig. But what was she supposed to do now? It felt wasteful to use her last night for cruising around on NCPD biz or-

“A good fuck’ll do you wonders,” Johnny interrupted from her bed, materializing some kind of rubber ball to bounce against the wall as an outlet for the tension that bled over. “Just get drunk and get laid; it’s what I would do.”

She dropped beside him, legs restlessly tapping a nervous rhythm. The thought of fumbling with some drunk-tit gonk in a filthy club lounge rolled her stomach. “Kinda feels like I should do something…like, important, for my last day.”

“Getting that stick out your ass and replacing it with something better is important.” He replied crudely, angrier than usual. “And It’s not gonna be your last day,” Johnny swore, unusually vehement, throwing the ball with spectacular violence. V watched it bounce off the wall and roll along the floor till it dematerialized in a glitchy storm.“I told you Alt’ll fix us. Don’t know why you don’t believe me.”

V didn’t know if Johnny was trying to convince her or himself. She’d been putting off the inevitable for so long, pretending that if she went down punching every night, she’d wake up kicking in the morning. But every lead they’d chased was a dead end, and V had the weird sinking feeling that maybe she hadn’t spent her time as wisely as she should have. Beyond run-of-the-mill regrets, her brain was so bloated with digital threading that she was functionally blind most of the time, huddling in back alleys, bleeding through her eyes and ears with nothing but migraines for company. But arguing was pointless, so V let Johnny’s magnetic charisma drown out her screaming instincts. Who knows, maybe against all odds, Alt would come through. Maybe there was some happy end waiting for them at the end of the long, dark tunnel.

More like a long walk off a short pier…

“Stop moping," Johnny interrupted with an irritated grumble, swinging his legs over the edge of her messy bed. “Go out, get drunk- call one of your friends. Everyone on that list owes you at least a dozen shots.” Getting up, he paced, “Go do something; you’re driving me crazy.”

Driving? Seconds before she tapped on Panam’s name, an idea formed, splitting her face into a wide grin. “Good call, johnny.”

Johnny halfheartedly threw the ball at her head.

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

The fact that Johnny hadn’t made a single snide comment about her plans for the evening was impressive, though V wisely chose not to comment on it for fear of baiting the contrarian in him. End of the day, he owed V the same enthusiasm she’d had for his outing with Rogue, so it evened out. Watching her pop several pills without protest, Johnny disappeared from her consciousness with a two-fingered salute and an expression V couldn’t read. She brushed away the twinge of annoyance. Fuck it, it was her last night out, and V didn’t want to spend it thinking about Johnny.

Showering, V stared at the mirror, pulling out a blow-dryer with more dust than the badlands. One fire hazard later, she looked almost respectable, tying her hair in a more elaborate version of her usual style. It was silly to be nervous, but it had been so long since V carved time for herself that it felt almost alien to stand in front of her closet, wondering about aesthetics instead of optimal coverage or blood spatter. It was a shame that some of her favorites didn’t fit anymore, sliding down her thin frame when they’d fit her perfectly less than a month ago. An unexpected stab of grief shook her, but V bullied it out of her mind, choosing a dark, comfortable jacket with just enough bling to edge into fancy. She’d just have to make do with the rest. Staring at the mirror, V grinned at the sight of herself, having almost forgotten how fun it was to get dolled up, to test makeup and mix and match outfits, the whole deal. Her reflection looked respectable, like V was just another girl going out for a fun night instead of a final one. Finishing touches done; V holstered Vnity and downed two painkillers to stem the ever-present migraine before heading down the hallway and into the garage.

The Villefort hummed to life when V stepped out of the elevator, and sensitive sensors immediately picked up her signature ping, doors swinging open to accept her. V ducked into the passenger’s seat with a theatrically saucy wink, “Hey babe, come here often?”

“Good evening, Victoria,” Delamain greeted her, engine vibrating into a soft purr as soon as she settled in. “This is the current registered home address for this vehicle, so yes, I am here quite often.” The confusion in his tone made her chuckle, and she reached out to pet the dash. Processes skittered at the contact, bursting beneath her touch and reforming a moment later. The dots lined up, “Ah, that was a joke.” He paused, sounding disappointed, “The concept of humor is still a mystery.”

“Don’t beat yourself up,” V interrupted the incoming apology, “Humor’s a personal, subjective thing. Give yourself time to develop your tastes, and humor’ll come after.” Over several weeks, she’d gotten pretty good at disseminating human traits to easily digestible sound bytes. Usually, she’d be down to talk about it at length, but V had time-sensitive plans: “Let me drop you the coordinates.” Much as she’d like to take the wheel, V could barely see the streets let alone drive through them. Crashing her precious Delamain Vehicle No.21 and dealing with insurance was not part of the evening’s itinerary. Delamain would have to do the honors.

Accepting the packet, Delamain paused, feeding the coordinates through his system to pinpoint the destination. “This is far from the Delamain Network’s regular service area.” He sounded hesitant, but the rearview map plotted the optimum course.

Shit. “Too far?” She wheedled, cringing. Delamain had offhandedly mentioned that he’d never been outside the proper city limits, but V hadn’t considered whether it was by choice or limitation. Hmm…That threw a snarl into the code, but there were other places, closer and less impactful but still fun-

“You need not worry about whether I will be able to maintain a stable connection,” Delamain interrupted as if he could sense her thoughts. Maybe they had been spending too much time together if he could read her that easily. “I will still be within acceptable safety margins. I chose Night City and the surrounding suburbs for peak service traffic, but they are not the true operational limits of the Network.” Delamain was being oddly loose-lipped today. Not that she was complaining, especially once the engine revved, pulling them out of the garage with inhuman smoothness. They merged into Night City traffic, weaving between cars with elegant deft, his precision closer to craft than algorithm. “However, my analyses indicate nothing of note in that area. May I ask the purpose of our visit?”

He was getting bolder by the day, and V grinned, proud. “Now that’s a secret.” The caution in his tone was warranted, given that the outskirts of the badlands were knee-deep in Raffen territory. Made sense his regular clientele never ventured out that far but V and Panam worked hard to scatter the shiv and send them back to their hidey-hole to lick their wounds. “But if it’ll make you feel better, it’s a personal matter- just you and me.”

“That sounds like you are leading me to an execution.” Delamain said, shocking V into startled laughter.

Coughing, V controlled herself. “And you said humor eludes you… Wait -” A worrying thought popped into her head. “You’re not talking from experience, are you?”

Delamain materialized in the rearview, looking convincingly affronted. “The Delamain Network expressly forbids the active use of vehicles to commit intentional violence against others. Combat mode was installed with the exclusive condition that it be used only as a means of self-defense. Clients in breach of their contract face immediate termination of their membership, cement a spot on the Delamain Network Blacklist and are reported to the Night City Police Department for further penalty. As for your question, I spent a considerable portion of my studies in humanity towards the consumption of classical media.”

V leaned forward, awed, “So you watched gangster movies?”

“....Yes. Humanity has an avid interest in organized crime.” Oh yeah, he looked embarrassed. “It was, of course, one of the many dozens of genres that I analyzed.” He added hurriedly, “I eventually abandoned the project once I determined the scope and effort of my studies would not lead me towards the end I hoped to achieve.”

Remembering her disappointment at the news, V made sure not to voice that opinion. “You never did tell me what your end goal was.” It was one of the few things Delamain had never been upfront about, changing the subject as soon as V broached it. Eventually, she’d taken to personal guesses, though no fantasy reason could ever sate her curiosity. They rounded Kabuki, taking the highway towards the badlands. Long, iridescent strings of shimmering code choked every corner of the roundabout, and V closed her eyes in a pointless bid to block it out.

“It would be remiss of me to make any conclusions based on such little information.” Delamain repeated, justifying his excuses behind AI rationale. He could be suspiciously cagey whenever it suited him, wielding human expectations to his benefit and managing them with as much deft as he did his fleet. Close as she was, V knew better than to push, resisting curiosity with what seemed like a herculean effort.

“Where’d you leave off?” She asked instead, tackling the problem from another direction.

“The Remains of the Day.” He answered, judging her question safe enough for honesty.

Huh. “Never heard of it.” V made a note to look it up when she returned.

“It’s no matter,” came the glib response before he lapsed into silence.

The rest of the drive was in comfortable quiet, the world a soft golden glow behind her eyelids as the sun began to set. In the distance, V could feel the pulsing rhythm of Night City fading further and further away, tangling digital webs releasing their hold on her as they reached the city limits. Eventually, even those faint impressions melted, leaving Delamain’s silver gilt thread as their only connection. Considerate as always, he turned to her favorite Retrowave station, and the combination of synthetic beats along the purr of his well-tuned engine lulled V into a trance. A dozen miles later, the familiar hum of tires and cement turned to the bump of sand and gravel. A smile tugged at V’s lips. She shouldn’t have been surprised at the ease with which Delamain glided over the desert, overcoming obstacles that normal cars could barely handle with only a slight increase in effort. She opened her eyes as they angled towards a small cliff, climbing the steep incline in seconds.

“We have arrived at our destination,” Delamain announced, coming to a rolling stop. “Are we at the correct spot?” V doubted there was a more precise GPS in the world, but Delamain seemed set on being polite.

In the distance, Night City glimmered, reflecting the setting sun against its buildings in a shining glow. V grinned, “Yep, this is it.” Last time she’d been here was with Jackie, drinking to the sound of his absurd fantasies as he imagined some bright, ridiculously gilded future. The stories always ended with forty-something cars and twenty-something mansions, complete with real-water swimming pools and, of course, the mandatory harem of fawning groupies. He’d always been a little vague on how they got there, but Jackie had never been a journey type of a guy, obsessed with destinations just out of reach. Probably why he loved the view, how distance reshaped the gritty reality of Night City into a beautiful, fantastic dream. And between the two of them, Jackie had always been the dreamer- an unfortunate trait given that Night City primarily sated its appetite on dreamers and fools.

Stepping out, V took a deep breath, and the cold desert air burned her lungs. Grateful for the foresight of bringing a jacket, V stepped around Delamain and gingerly climbed atop him, planting her ass on the warm hood. Huddling, she shivered, “We’re a little early for the show; hope you’re not in a rush.”

“I have no record of large-scale events scheduled at this location or in Night City.” Delamain replied, and V had only a few seconds of warning, a staticky hum filling her audials before a figure materialized beside her in a brilliant, sudden flash.

“Holy shit-!” V nearly rolled off the hood in panic, Vnity halfway out the holster before she recognized Delamain’s avatar. Catching herself in an awkward sprawl, V flailed and crawled back up the hood, wide-eyed and gawking. “The hell?! Since when do you have a holoprojector rigged to your systems?!” Had he always had it? Maybe V was just willfully blind and ignorant because there was some disconnect between her brain and what she was seeing. She gawped openly, failing miserably at hiding her shock.

“Victoria? Are you alright?” Delamain looked worried, features creasing as he awkwardly leaned toward her. “My apologies; I should have given you ample warning and…Victoria?” He looked at her, confused, "Is there something amiss? You are…staring.”

Yeah. It was probably hella rude, but V couldn't stop staring any more than she could force Johnny to be civil. She leaned closer, brushing aside boundaries and personal space as curiosity took the reins.

Delamain, unused to any measure of physicality, didn’t have enough self-awareness to maintain distance as V nearly crawled over him, observing the intricate layers of light and code that formed his features, familiar yet different now that it was rendered in real space. The work was extraordinary, finer than anything on Jig Jig street. Several colors in full-spectrum hues layered over one another in tight bands, making him look deceptively solid unless you were close enough to see the minuscule, shifting gaps. Even the aura was bearable, tuned to a pleasing blue glow as opposed to the blinding garden-variety glare. Leaning back, V couldn’t hide the naked wonder on her face if she tried, “Jesus, Del, that is some preem tech.” The tracking was immaculate, eyes following her every movement despite having no hardwire connection to any optical sensors. It was an eerily lifelike replica, except… Glancing down, V bit back a snicker at the awkward assortment of holographic limbs as he bent half at the waist like a Ken doll. His legs were stick-straight over the hood, ruining the illusion. “Guessing it’s your first time tryin’ it out?”

“You are correct,” he said, lack of accompanying body language confirming it. “I employ certain algorithms that can convincingly mimic organic randomness in muscle movement. Alongside my emotion-based subroutines, they primarily concentrate on my face, serving as the basis for emotional expression. However, in the interests of preserving processing power, I do not render the rest of my ‘body’ and have not had an opportune moment to conduct trials in physical space.” His neck turned with alien detachment to look at V, “I can shutter this feature if it proves too disconcerting.” No need for advanced algorithms to relay that tone of disappointment.

“No, no!” V reassured, watching as Delamain raised his hands like he’d never seen them before. Maybe he hadn’t. “Practice makes perfect, right? Plus, you can have me as context.” Experiments always worked better with a controlled variable, and V would argue that she was a pretty well-practiced human. She watched him mull it over at Delamain speed, finally settling on folding his hands over his lap, prim and proper as ever.

“That is sound advice,” Delamain agreed, nodding with her, pleased at the thought of gathering information.

His hands distracted her again, and V couldn’t help it; she stared - trying to reconcile memory with some small difference…It was going to drive fuckin’ crazy; what was it? V’s eyebrows shot to her hairline as it clicked a moment later, “Are you wearing…driving gloves? Wait- ” Flicking her eyes up, she let loose a delighted gasp, “Del, is that a new suit?”

V didn’t even wait for confirmation, a wide grin splitting her features as she puzzled out exactly the nagging difference. It was subtle, but Delamain was clad in the latest fashion, sporting a double-lapelled suit tipped with gold caps that mimicked the ones at the edges of his crisp, white shirt. Even his tie was different, dark, but with golden filigree lining the expensively recreated cloth, winding up to punctuate the look with an elegant golden pin- the same color as his new cufflinks. It was understated yet unmistakable, iconically Delamain- every cut and corner crafted to mirror the elegant lines of his fleet, layering an extra air of golden elegance over his usual gilded luxury. And those gloves… V was glad it was cold because she’d be sweating otherwise.

She’d been staring too long, and the delicate lines of his silver syntax twisted under her intense inspection. He paused, fidgeting “I…ah, believe it is customary to dress up for a date.” Delamain explained, looking down at himself with sudden shyness, “Is it to your satisfaction?”

“Oh, Absolutely.” V whistled in vivid appreciation, “Ladykiller protocols activated. Once you get the hang of some ‘ganic movement, you’ll have to beat clients off with a stick.” Holographic projector or not, clients were gonna be tripping over themselves for some facetime.

“Feedback noted,” he preened at the compliment, self-professed slivers of vanity peeking through his carefully crafted façade. “However, I do not plan to use this iteration of my avatar with my clientele. Beyond the power requirements necessary to maintain the projector, it would dilute the Delamain Network’ to have its-” Suddenly self-aware of his potentially unflattering tangent, Delamain changed gears, pausing as he considered his next words, “This avatar is a special version for you, and I am glad to know you like it.”

Seemed a shame to keep drip like that in the backlogs, but V’s cheeks warmed. Grinning to hide the sudden embarrassment, V made to bump him with her elbow before realizing the futility of the gesture. “Could’ve at least warned me so I could try to match. Not that I can afford anything that fancy off my day job.” V once caught Johnny staring over her shoulder, positively misty-eyed at the sight of her barebones bank account.

“That would have been quite unnecessary,” He responded, looking her over, silver script flashing across his eyes as he logged…something. It seemed unlikely, but maybe he’d been just as slow in noticing V’s change in attire. “You are lovely in any garment you choose, as always.”

What a gonk. V snickered, charmed.

The little space between his brows crinkled, “Forgive me, but given how dangerous and high-stakes your work tends to be, I would have assumed you would be properly compensated for your time and effort.” A nice way to talk around the fact that she regularly bled out in his backseat. He suddenly frowned, looking her over like he was trying to understand something, “I have seen references on the net call you a “Charity Merc,” though I am struggling to understand the connection between what is considered a generally virtuous trait and the apparent disrespect of your alias.”

V winced, caught off guard by how much the nickname stung coming from Delamain. Figures Delamain would be fond of gossip. No way someone habitually watching the world through a billion cameras wouldn’t develop a voyeuristic streak. “Stalkin’ me online, huh?” It was meant to be teasing, but from how his delicate threading cringed, she wasn’t successful.

“Please forgive me,” Delamain apologized hastily, regret etched across his face, “I did not mean to offend you. After you reset my core, I had no memory of you beyond my predecessor’s logs, which I aimed to verify by searching for references that led me towards-” Recoiling, he stopped, struggling to find the right words to smooth things over.

Sting gone in the wake of her amusement, V watched him spin his wheels over an awkward apology. “Don’t worry about it,” she reassured him gently. She leaned on her hip a moment later and turned toward him, “You want the full story?”

Delamain mimicked her, his movements perfect, if unintentionally feminine. V could tell he was struggling against innate curiosity, and she interrupted his train of thought, fearing that his earlier gaffe might reestablish rigid propriety protocols and set them back several weeks, “Firsthand account’s gotta be better than forum gossip, right?”

She’d been right to bank on AI logic because Delamain hesitated before rising to the bait, “Only if you are amenable. I admit I have been rather curious, but I…wouldn’t want you to revisit any unpleasant memories.”

“Nah, babe. You’re good. I appreciate the due diligence. Not like I would believe a note left by a previous version of myself without cross-checking either.” If Johnny were here, he would have helpfully reminded V of the time she tried on a brain dance left in the trash. Twice. Glaring hypocrisy aside, V turned her gaze towards the darkening horizon. Unfortunately, there wasn’t a single defining event that netted her the nickname. “Hmm…might have to start at the beginning for this.”

“I remember you mentioning your mother,” Delamain prompted, giving her an easy segue.

Latching on the hook, V nodded, unsurprised at the depth of his memory banks, “Yeah. Helen. She actually adopted me.” Pinging Del, V airdropped a packet. It was a photo of a blonde woman with short-cropped hair, a wide smile, and a face so ordinary that it could be forgotten the moment she stepped out of sight. “She took me in as a baby. Never knew who my real parents were, but I spent years makin’ up stories- super elaborate fantasies about being the long-lost heiress of Militech or something.” V grimaced, thinking back to those years like every adult did: cringing. “Yeah, it was all very silly.”

“Questions about one’s origin is something I have found to be an innate part of humanity,” Delamain offered gently, referencing his studies. “The desire to understand one’s source and find further purpose is only…” he looked confused- as if he’d just realized something, “...natural.”

A smile tugged at her mouth at his insight, obviously born from personal struggles. “So I started taking up crazy jobs that got kids bigger and smarter than me killed on the daily.” Delamain would blow a gasket if he realized her stunt with Pacifica was probably less dangerous than some of the shit she pulled as a kid. “I didn’t care about the eddies ‘cause I figured if I made enough noise and got enough attention, my real family would sweep in and fly me away to some castle in the sky.” V always regretted being such an ass to Helen in those early pubescent years, but at that time, she didn’t know how to channel her restless curiosity, and it ended up bleeding into anger. Anger which she took out on her adopted mother- who, looking back, had the patience of a fuckin’ saint. “So I ended up with a reputation. If there was something dumb, dangerous, and crazy risky, you could count on me.” Hmm. Awkward to realize that she hadn’t really changed all that much.

Then the Valentinos and Tyger Claws pulled iron over a few petty pounds of synthcoke, “And Helen got caught in the crossfire.” The memory was a mottled scar, a scab repeatedly picked in the middle of healing, but she’d made enough peace that it didn’t fill her with grief like it used to. “After that, I was alone,” Night City was scary for a thirteen-year-old with no family.

“I am sorry for your loss,” Delamain responded, more earnestly saddened now than when Jackie bled out in his backseat, but V didn’t hold it against him.

“So all those jobs I used to do? Yeah, I started doin’ 'em to trade for clothes, food, and other stuff.” There wasn’t a particular point where she got the alias, but the first whispers probably started then. “Valentino kids used to make fun of me for it. They started makin’ bets on who could make me take the stupidest, most demeaning job for the smallest scraps.” She grinned at Delamain, who was staring with compassion and avid interest, “Babe, I got into so many fights.” She had scars on her knuckles for years ‘till she traded them for Gorilla hands. It was expensive, but watching Diego and his goons hit the dirt was totally worth it.

“I did not realize you had to endure such hardship,” Delamain’s face twisted, features arranging themselves into an unreadable expression, learning a new combination in real time. The final result looked slightly unsettled: "You deserved much better.”

Now wasn’t that the story of NC. “Then I met Mama Welles when I tried to break into her bar, but she recognized me ‘cause I helped a friend of hers a few weeks before. So instead of turning me over to NCPD, she gave me food and a place to sleep for the night.” The memory was fond, something she pulled out on rainy days to cheer herself up. “Anyways, I was sleeping on a scratchy sofa when I suddenly realized that I spent so long fantasizing about some imaginary family that I never took time to appreciate the people who took care of me, ‘specially when they didn’t have to.” When V needed food, Ellie from the corner store never ran out of her favorite snack. Hernando always had spares in her size when her shirt had too many holes. Looking back, the vendors on her block always had her side, and the community found a way to provide V with anything she needed.

“After that, my attitude changed, and I started doin’ the low-paying, hard jobs ‘cause people needed someone watching out for them, and I wanted to give something back.” Shrugging, she continued, mired in memory, “I spent the rest of my life turning “Charity Merc” into something I could be proud of. Though some people never got over first impressions.” It was always an uphill battle with fixers who only knew her by rep. “After that, well,” She turned to her companion with a small grin, “You know the rest.” And the ending.

Delamain was staring, his attention like a pinpoint laser. “Thank you for sharing,” he said with unnecessary gravitas, as if V had just imparted some secret of the universe instead of Night City’s most common backstory. “Forgive me for my boldness, but I would like to posit that you have succeeded in your aims and much more. Many boards I frequented sang your praises, sentiments my predecessor and I share.”

Her cheeks flooded, and V fought the urge to look away, “Thanks, babe. Means a lot, coming from you.”

“Did you ever locate your birth parents?” He was strangely curious, but V chalked it up to AI peculiarity.

She shook her head, “Nope. Never looked either ‘cause I realized if they cared, they wouldn’t have thrown me behind a dumpster in the first place.”

In the corner of her eye, she saw delicate threads of code snarl in a nasty tangle for a long moment. Delamain’s face stuttered, twitching in unison, expression hilariously outraged, “Behind a dumpster?” His tone was incredulous, so sincerely horrified that it glitched into pure static, sending V into uncontrollable giggles.

“Don’t look so scandalized,” she laughed off his shock. “Alleyways are Night City’s most common orphanages. Who knows,” she teased, “If I look hard enough, I might find a sibling or two a street over.”

He frowned, and V couldn’t take him seriously with such a comically stern expression, “While I appreciate your ability to bring levity into difficult circumstances, I am appalled at the notion of someone….” He looked distraught, "discarding you.”

“Well, if it makes you feel better, I think I made it out ok. Just took a few knocks and learned some hard lessons.” Inhaling a lungful of freezing desert air, she met his gaze, enjoying the backlit glow and warmth of his holographic form. “Plus,” she amended, “if everything was different, I might not have had the chance to befriend the smartest and slickest AI this side of the continent.”

It was meant to be a softhearted tease, but the way his silver gaze melted under the compliment made her shiver. “Do you really think so?” He asked, hushed.

“Absolutely,” V whispered, suddenly breathless, caught in the gravitational pull of his question. “I’m so proud of you.”

The praise seemed to go right through him, translating through his delicate coding with a shiver. “Feedback noted,” Delamain murmured, and a sudden silence bloomed; the air between them charged.

V watched his face and tracked the shimmering holographic strands that made his aquiline features, trying to gauge the tension between them and read the intent in his machine-spun processes. After a moment, a flash of understanding dawned. “You want to kiss me.”

The words were gentle, but Delamain reacted to them like a physical blow. He struggled against the accusation, eyes flicking to her lips as her words gave form to contextual connections. Newly foreign impulses reared their heads to war against hard-coded propriety protocols, demanding capitulation. They stayed there, locked in each other’s orbit for what seemed like an eternity before Delamain shuddered, surrendering, "Yes.”

V took the next step, gently leading because he had no inborn instinct, no knowledge of how to proceed. A token piece of her hesitated, but if all she had was tonight, didn’t V deserve something for herself? The strength of her desire was surprising, washing out resistance as she closed the gap, using the privacy of the space between them to admit the breadth of her feelings- if only to herself.

He mirrored her, body leaning forward in perfect technical mimicry as they finally connected.

The kiss was livewire, electrical charge and heat skittering across her face as flesh met light. It was an uncomplicated, chaste kiss, all the more precious for the care and consideration he put into it. Delamain was delicate in how he angled himself, mindful of his ephemeral form, silver script calculating her shifting body down to the millimeter as he adjusted in tandem, heuristic algorithms learning from their contact in real time. Endeared by the effort, a soft, affectionate noise escaped her, and his form fluttered at the sound. Distantly, she heard his engine rev, the hood growing infinitesimally warmer beneath her fingers.

V was angling herself closer when sparks lit her vision. A sudden pop under the hood scattered his form, leaving her yelping in the dark, awkwardly clutching air. “Del?” Rubbing her eyes, V blinked, vision stabilizing after an embarrassing few seconds, “You alright?”

“...Yes, forgive me.” He answered after a short pause, audio suspiciously staticky, “The holographic projector’s capacitors were unable to process simultaneous streams of data and ah- seem to have…overheated.”

Stifling the urge to giggle, V was secretly flattered. But not wanting to compound insecurity, she turned on her scanners instead. His processor, finer and more delicately crafted than the holographic form, rippled like waves across her feed. Didn’t look like anything was broken, but still, “Need a hand?”

“I appreciate the offer of assistance, but recalibration will take less than five minutes.” The thin lines of his repair protocols wound beneath her, tangling around what V could only assume was the projector housing. His previous timidness was gone, replaced by a single-minded focus on his assigned task, “The damage to the projector was superficial, though I would like to make sure that you did not sustain any unintentional harm.”

V knew better than to argue against that tone. Staring at the loom of his processor, V tried to catch the flickering numbers as he scanned her. But even with her newfound sight and mental reflexes, Delamain was too quick, script flashing in a seamless blend that looked like a river of light. There was some serious power under the hood, and V resisted the urge to dip her fingers. “You know,” she started, rolling to her back, absorbing the bleeding warmth of his engine, “Vik said your medical scanning tech was some of the best he’d ever seen, and you mentioned wanting to expand. Have you ever considered partnering? Like with Trauma?”

“That is an interesting proposition,” Delamain replied thoughtfully, corresponding data threads looping as he digested it. “The idea is quite sound.” New information looped across his processors, threading new information toward the broad city horizon.

“Just a thought,” V responded, enjoying the lingering warmth across her back as she waited for him to finish the repairs.

“The holographic projector has been repaired,” Delamain warned, considerate of surprising her again. “It will be coming online in 3…2…1.” Timing exact with his countdown, Delamain’s avatar rematerialized in a series of glowing lines, machinery humming smoothly beneath her.

“Welcome back,” V greeted him with a bright smile, taking note of the subtle curvature of his limbs as he draped over the hood much more naturally, only a hint of his previous stiffness apparent if someone were to look too closely. AI learning was just something else….”You gonna be good?”

“Yes. Thankfully, neither of us is any worse for wear.” He looked moderately pleased with his success, "I have taken several measures to compensate for any single-point failures in the future. Barring any unexpected…" Delamain looked at V as if he’d just suddenly remembered what caused the failure in the first place, and his voice crackled at the edges, “...surges in the system.”

Before she could tease him, a flicker in the distance caught her attention. V turned immediately, settling back on her ass and gesturing excitedly towards the horizon, “Oh, great timing! It’s starting!” Grabbing at Delamain before she could remember he was hollow, V laughed and pointed towards the city. Her friend’s gaze obediently followed her outstretched hand. The sun had set, leaving only a quickly fading crimson scar to kiss the dusty horizon. Against the inky red backdrop of the sky, Night City was a glittering, iridescent pearl of diffused neon and twinkling spotlights. It was a beautiful sight, but not the one V brought them out for. That happened a moment later in a staggering sequence of power meant to draw from the city’s energy reserves in steps to avoid cascade failure. Close up, the change was impossible to clock, like staring at a corner of a painting. But they were dozens of kilometers away, and at this distance, brushing the edges of the badlands, Night City lived up to its reputation as the jewel of the west.

Beginning at the lowest levels, billboards flickered, advertisements tuning to a single channel of rippling color. Then, rising like a wave, it engulfed the smaller buildings, lighting up the lower floors and reflecting dying sunlight off the armor-meshed windows like a prism. Drones and aviation lights followed suit, glittering across the sea of color like stars. The tide overtook the winding megabuildings that dotted the city landscape, lighting them like oversaturated beacons in an ever-shifting multicolored band. Soon enough, even the high-rises were submerged, and the entire city turned into a dazzling rainbow display, entirely accidental yet heartbreakingly sublime. Misty had shown her old holos of the Aurora Borealis, and maybe it was arrogant to think that they could match nature, but watching Night City light up in a single, unified wave of rippling color? V liked to think they came pretty damn close.

Overwhelmed by emotion, V drew her knees to her chest. Memories flooded her, snippets of conversations with her friends, the taste of her favorite burger joint, the low-level murmur of people’s voices as she stared out her apartment windows…her entire life felt so small and far away, every formative experience contained to a single, tiny, glittering dot on the horizon. Living in Night City, it was easy to get swept away in the endless tidal wave of chaos, succumbing to ceaseless waves churning you over and over until there was nothing left but smooth, weathered stone. That’s what the last few weeks had been like for V, a grueling swim against the tide with no land in sight. But watching the colors fade and the city return to its regularly scheduled cacophony of noise and advertisements, V knew that Johnny was wrong. There was no going back, and she was suddenly fiercely glad she chose to spend her final night with someone she cared about, sharing a view that meant the world to her.

Eventually, noise started to bleed back, and V’s pinpoint focus diffused to her immediate surroundings. Turning her head, she watched the subtle interplay of light across Delamain’s face, his avatar a blue, gleaming beacon in the darkness.

He stared at Night City for a long while, unblinking. The decision to drive out had been a good one, and V didn’t doubt for a second that Delamain wouldn’t be as enamored of the view as she was. Absently, from the corner of her eye, she watched little bursts of data travel along the silver string that connected them back to his HQ. V imagined his neural pathways twining, surging, and coalescing, logging everything he saw in clinically precise but sensory-rich detail. What was it like to see the city from all those different perspectives, to simultaneously exist in hundreds of points? Soon, even the sky would be part of his domain. V was proud to have contributed a new view, but she still envied him.

“So?” V ventured, breaking the silence that wrapped around them like a fog, startling them back to self-awareness. “Different from the outside, huh?”

“Yes,” he murmured softly. “That was a remarkable experience. Thank you for sharing it with me.” V felt another rush of electrical current running beneath her palms. There was no mistaking his intent this time. He turned, gaze as intense, as bright and brilliant as the city itself. “Victoria,” Delamain’s voice was a silver-soft plea, “Kiss me again. Please.”

V nodded and this time, it was Delamain who leaned forward first, sweeping her with newfound boldness. She closed the final gap, gasping at the kiss, hand coming up to cradle the ephemeral cut of his jaw where her chrome tingling at the contact. It was only a facsimile, just a holoform, but the way he shivered and fluttered at her touch made their connection real, physical. Bands of light sparked, prickling against her lips in delicate patterns. It was like kissing electricity, charged air pinging her cyberware, making her lightheaded. It was nothing like their hardwire connection, no feedback loop drowning out reason to leave only frenzy, and V relished in their sobriety, enjoying the liberty to give freely without expectation or condition. Beneath her fingertips, V felt the faint impressions of his processes as he recorded everything with indelible detail.

Hanako, V’s impending death, the endless tangled strings of Night City, the reaper’s blade, everything faded- washed away in the wake of Delamain’s glowing presence, drowned in the dull roar of his engine. Tomorrow was inevitable, but he’d given her the gift of now.

Grateful, V closed her eyes and simply existed.

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

Back home, she’d barely managed to take off her clothes before the painkillers wore off. Clad in exhaustion and chasing sleep to escape the familiar ache of a migraine, V crumpled into bed, turning in time to see Johnny materialize beside her.

He turned his head just as her eyelids began to droop, “So what, you’re basically Murk Man?”

“Oh god…No…" V went to sleep horrified.

#cyberpunk 2077 #Delamain #V #Neon_fics #neon_writes #they finally kiss jesus #this drawing was originally meant for this chapter

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onionsoop · 4 years ago

Text

Blackmail /// Tendou Satori x f!Reader /// (+18)

Summary: During a game for Shiratorizawa, you plan to slip a love letter to Ushijima until Tendou catches you in the act. After stealing you letter, he blackmails you into cheering for the game without bra or panties and later fucks you the bathroom as one last request to get your letter back.

Length: 5k

Tags & Warnings: dub-con, exhibitionism, fingering, oral (fem receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, semi-possessive Tendou, praise (kind of) Tendou calls you a slut once

Authors Note: Hey, so this fic kinda doesn’t make sense emotion wise for Y/N with the soft ending, but its whatever. I had this idea for a fic and my brain refused to let me write anything else until I got it out, so enjoy. I just finished Season 3 of Haikyu and oml I simp Tendou so much I just had to write a fic for him. Regardless, sorry for any spelling or grammer mistakes and I hope you enjoy :)

Two days stood between you and the big game on Saturday. You had joined the cheer team for Shiratorizawa at the start of this year and it was truthfully one of the best decisions you had ever made. You had met so many wonderful and kind people during your time there, and most importantly, you had fallen in love. During all the times you had been in the stands cheering for the team, you had gotten accustomed to having your eyes fall to Ushijima, watching the way he moved and played— how his muscles moved under his uniform. Despite only truly speaking to him once or twice, his silent and brooding nature had utterly charmed you, leading you to the situation you were in now, waiting to give him a love letter.

You knew it was a bit of a cheesy thing to do, but you couldn’t imagine actually telling him in person. Your current plan was to slip it into his bag sometime before or after a game, but the idea of going through with it created a sinking feeling of anxiety in your stomach. So, you decided to pick a day, a day where a game was going to happen so he might be in a good mood. But, as each day passed and you got closer to Saturday you felt your choice to do it weighing on you more and more. How was he going to react? Maybe he didn’t even remember you… No, you had to stay hopeful, after all, you had already gotten this far.

The big day had finally come, and you were a nervous wreck. The entire time you were getting into your cheer uniform you couldn’t stop glancing at the corner of the envelope sticking out of your backpack. Thoughts of being rejected previous times by guys in elementary and middle school filled your head, and the more you thought about giving the note to Ushijima the less you wanted to do it.

You finished changing and looked at the clock— only ten minutes until it was time to head to the stadium. You picked up the envelope from the place in its bag and clutched it tightly in your hands. You felt like you were on a spy mission as you made your way through the hallways trying your best to seem unsuspicious. It seemed like everyone was watching you as you made your way to the boys’ locker room and your heart thundering in your chest was the only sound you could hear as you made your way there.

As you got closer to the entrance, the number of people was beginning to dwindle, sending a wave of relief over you. You didn’t want anyone seeing you entering in case word got around that someone had given Ushijima a confession. As the last few people in the hallway were leaving, you made yourself seem very invested in a poster on the wall, keeping an eye out for anyone approaching. Finally, the last person turned the corner and you darted over to the doorway, peeking inside. It looked completely empty, your eyes scanning the bags and towels strewn around the room.

Tip-toeing inside, you nervously looked for the bag with his name on it, finding it in the corner, zipped up and tidy. With shaky hands, you pulled out the envelope, trying to build up the courage to slip it inside. You felt a shiver go up through your whole body and suddenly you whipped around, coming face to face with Tendou Satori who was looming over your shoulder with a surprised sneer on his face. You jumped backward, scrambling to hide the letter behind you, and act natural.

“Whatcha got there?” he said, leaning over you and snatching the letter out of your hands. Panic was the only emotion you felt as he took it from your hands. You didn’t know where he had come from, you thought you had entered discreetly, but apparently you had missed him during your frantic search.

“N-nothing, give it back,” you said, trying to snatch the letter back but Tendou held it just out of your reach with his long arms.

“Is this a love letter?!” he said, peering up at the pink script you had written on the envelope and the heart sticker you had sealed it with. You could feel your face going bright red as regret about your decoration choices filled you.

“Oh-ho-ho, now this is good. This’ll definitely get a kick out of the team, especially Ushijima,” he said, giving you a sly smile, knowing exactly how he was making you feel. You felt tears pick at the corners of your eyes and your lower lip beginning to tremble. You knew Tendou was just saying it to get a rise out of you but the words still hurt. It wasn’t like him to tease other people so much, but the way he saw you guilty standing there, trying to hide your letter made him-- you were just too cute to not mess with.

“Give it back… please…” you said weakly, casting your eyes downward trying to regain your composure.

“Mm? And why should I do that?” Tendou said, finally taking his eyes off the envelope and shifting them to you. You hated the way that a smug expression still adorned his face, you knew that Tendou had a reputation for being a cocky and overzealous guy, which was why you had tried to avoid him any time you could, but now you regretted not gaining some good footing with him before now.

“Please… I’ll do anything,” you mumbled, desperation laced through your voice.

“Anything?” he said, punctuating the syllables as he said the word, “Now that's quite the offer.” He leaned back on his heels, letting out a “hmm,” pretending to think as he slowly waved the letter in the air between two fingers. His eyes shifted down to you again and the way you glared up at him through your eyelashes, clenching your fists at your sides. A smile grew on his face as he watched you, savoring how small and pathetic you looked trying to argue with him.

“I’ve got it. You’re on the cheer team, right? For this game I want you to go out there with no bra or panties.”

The shock was visible on your face as he said those last words. A playful grin was set on his face, but you could see that he was being serious in his eyes.

“You’re kidding… r-right?” you said, feeling your face start to go red again.

“Nope. But it's just one teensy request, I doubt anyone will notice,” he said nonchalantly, “Plus, you said you would do anything.” He still held the letter out of your reach, taunting you with it by waving back and forth, making a twinge of anger go through you.

You weighed your options, you knew you would be mortified if he shared that letter with the rest of the team, and it would probably get out to the cheer team as well making your life hellish, or you could do this. You looked down at your uniform, your skirt coming down to mid-thigh and your shirt only being the slightest bit cropped, no one would notice… right? You took a deep breath and answered, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Fine, now give it back,” you said, lunging for the letter.

“Ah-ah-ah,” he teased, “you’ll get this back later, now hand ‘em over.” He held out a palm and stared at you, shoving your letter in his pocket.

“At least turn around pervert,” you hissed, causing Tendou to let out a chuckle. He luckily obliged and you stepped into a corner while he turned away. You quickly slid your panties down and unclasped your bra, making sure to keep your eyes on him the whole time. Once you had them off, you felt so open and exposed, making you instinctively cross your arms over your chest.

“Here,” you said, holding out your undergarments for Tendou. He snatched them from your hand and went over to shove them in his bag, keeping an eye on you as you stood in the corner of the room. The annoying smile that never seemed to leave his face was still there as he looked you up and down, taking in your exposed form, but you could see an intensity in his eyes that wasn’t there before, making you shiver.

“Alright then, see you after the game,” he said, as he lazily waved goodbye, picking up his bag and bringing it with him. As the door shut behind him it took you a minute to calm down and fully realize what happened.

Panic rose in your throat as you thought about walking out there and cheering for more than an hour. You wanted to sit down and hide in this room until the game was over, but you knew you would have to leave. Walking out there would be embarrassing, but it would only be worse if the team came back after and found you in this sorry state.

You began to walk forwards, legs shaky and unstable-- you felt tears begin to fill your eyes again but you took a deep breath and swallowed, forcing yourself to continue.

Once you got into the empty hallway, you felt more exposed than before. The wide-open space and the bright fluorescent lights above made you feel like you were on display for anyone who happened to walk by. There were only two minutes that remained before the game started, forcing you to pick up your pace as you walked down the hall. You were hyper-aware of the way that your skirt and shirt moved as you walked, making sure that you were keeping covered as you passed by the last few people waiting to head into the gym.

You finally made your way into the stand above the auditorium and joined the rest of your team. As you walked in you were truly grateful for your place in the second row of the group, making it so that you didn’t have to worry about people looking up your skirt. You were finally starting to get used to the feeling of your nipples brushing up against the fabric of your shirt, but the uncomfortable drafty feeling between your legs took a little more concentration to ignore.

Being in such a large crowd of people did nothing to calm your nerves as you waited for the players to enter, constantly checking that the back of your skirt hadn’t flipped up. The whistles blew down below, making you jump in your anxious state. The players filed in, all taking their time getting organized and lined up— you held your breath as you looked at the front, where your head cheerleader was standing, getting ready to start your routine, and you took one more look at the stadium preparing for the long game you were about to endure.

By the time the last point was scored and the whistle blew you wanted to cry tears of relief. The entire game had been a nightmare, each set coming to a deuce and dragging on far longer than it should have. Shiratorizawa had lost in the end, but at this point you didn’t even care, you just wanted to leave.

Throughout the game, you had felt only a constant rush of anxiety. Every jump and cheer and shake had sent waves of worry through you as you thought about all the people standing around you. After the first fifteen minutes of the game, you had gotten used to the weird sensations of not having any undergarments on, but the thought of someone finding out had kept you on edge the entire time.

Being able to sit down and relax felt like a godsend. The rest of the crowd was depressed and complaining about how we had lost, but you hadn’t watched much of the game and didn’t really feel like participating in the pity party.

Once the crowd was starting to dissipate, you rushed down the stairs and back to the boys’ locker room, keeping your skirt down the entire time with your hands. You stood a good ways away from the entrance, so as to not draw attention to yourself, and fervorously scanned the crowd for Tendou. The rest of the team was starting to arrive, including Ushijima, who put your heart in your throat as he walked by, but Tendou was nowhere to be seen.

Finally, when you were beginning to consider running off and looking for him, Tendou stalked by, a tired and annoyed look spread across his features. Once he caught sight of you, standing patiently against the wall, he grabbed your arm and started pulling you down the hall.

“W-wait, where are we going?” you asked, trying your best to keep up with his large stride.

“What, you don’t think I’m gonna give you back your belongings here, do you?” he said in a playful tone, but he couldn’t quite hide the tone of displeasure under it. You kept quiet the rest of the time while he dragged you off into an emptier part of the building and into the bathrooms. You weakly tried to pull away from his grasp, but his grip was tight on your arm as he pulled you around.

A wave of surprise hit you though, when he shoved you into a bathroom stall, locking the door behind both of you. He stood in front of you, hand against the stall door near your head, towering over your small figure.

“You want your letter back right?” he said, staring you down. You quickly nodded your head, beginning to feel uncomfortable, trying to gauge what he was planning.

“You’d be willing to do anything for it right?” he asked, leaning in closer to you to where you could feel his breath against your ear. It took you a second, but you nodded again, this time a little more hesitantly than before.

“How ‘bout you do me one more favor then, hmm?”

“Y-you said you would give it back now though,” you said, shuffling backwards, trying to get away from him in the confined space of the bathroom. His large figure made it hard for you to find any place away from him and you felt your back hit the door as you leaned away. Everything felt very claustrophobic and you felt heat rush to your face from how close he was to you.

He took a piece of your hair between two fingers and began to play with it idly.

“I know, I know, but I think it’s only fair that you do a little more for me, after all, we just lost the game, and I’m in a bit of a bad mood,” he said, a playful smile spreading across his lips again, “plus, seeing you like that the whole time was a little distracting, so if anything you’re a little bit at fault too.” You felt your face begin to burn as the implications of his words hit you and the stall suddenly felt far too small. He shifted his head to look into your eyes, hand coming around to grip your chin and keep you in place.

“Come on baby, just one little favor and you’ll get your letter back.” His other hand came down to your exposed waist and started making its way under your shirt, his fingers drawing playful circles on your skin.

You didn’t know what to say, the urge between getting away and retrieving your letter were warring with each other inside your mind, keeping you frozen where you stood. Having people find out about it would be humiliating, but the thought of having Tendou use you like this was almost worse. You opened your mouth to respond but nothing came out, your body refused to act. His stare still bored into your eyes, waiting for an answer, but you couldn’t respond.

“I’ll take your lack of protest as a yes then,” he said, brushing a thumb across your cheek before hiking your shirt up. You felt his lips slam into yours, pinning you against the door in a deep kiss and in that moment everything else seemed to fade away-- all you could focus on was the feeling of his lips invading yours. They were warm and inviting and almost made you feel as if you wanted more, but the rational part of your brain was still screaming for you to run away.

Tendou’s hand moved from its place on your face and slid down to your ass, pulling you into him. Your hands went up between the two of you and rested on Tendou’s chest, feeling the sculpted muscles underneath his shirt. It had been so long since you had been touched like this and your body craved more but remembering who Tendou was and what he was making you do caused you to hesitate. You weren’t sure if you wanted to push him away or not, but you at least kept your hands there to keep some distance between you as your brain scrambled to try and make a decision.

You felt Tendou swipe his tongue along your bottom lip, asking for entrance to the rest of your mouth, and you reluctantly opened your lips to let him inside. He was rough and demanding with his movements, making heat creep down to your core.

The hand that was under your shirt crept up and roughly squeezed your breast and you felt a small noise slip out of your throat as it happened. You knew you were touched starved, but this was absurd, you shouldn’t be enjoying this. Tendou had blackmailed you into those slutty actions during the game, and now he was blackmailing you yet again into this— but you were enjoying it, you were even beginning to reciprocate with your lips and tongue.

Your head was too adrenaline-filled for you to think properly, and no matter how much you tried to concentrate on being rational, the feeling of Tendou pressed up against you with his tongue in your mouth brought you away every time. You could feel his movements getting rougher as he groped you, and he pulled away from your lips, a grin returning to his face as he looked down at you.

“Bend over for me baby, will you?” he said, not giving you a chance to respond before grabbing your hips to help turn you around. You placed your shaky hands against the door and sucked in a breath as you felt his hands slide up your thighs and under your skirt. Your hands felt hot against the cool plastic of the door but all you could feel was Tendou’s fingers creeping closer and closer to the wet heat between your legs, pulling on your skin and spreading your folds.

“Look at you, already soaked and I’ve barely even touched you,” he said, making your face go red. You tried to stutter out a protest, but you knew you were completely guilty. A small part of yourself felt ashamed at the way you were getting wet over Tendou’s touches— you shouldn’t be feeling this way, it was wrong, but your thoughts were quickly interrupted at the feeling of Tendou’s fingers brushing up against your entrance before pulling away, causing you to let out a small gasp. A wave of heat rushed through your body, making your head fuzzy— leaving only the desire for more pleasure in your mind.

Tendou could feel the tent in his pants growing larger as he viewed your supple thighs and ass in front of him. He had thought about this scene so often, thinking about how good you would look bent over for him, ready to take his cock, but he had to stay patient. Both of his hands grabbed your ass to keep you stable before he bent down and gave a slow lick to the inside of your thigh, making you shudder.

You could feel your hands beginning to get slick against the door as you prepared for the sensation of Tendou’s mouth against you. Once you felt his tongue swipe up against your cunt you felt your back arch and couldn’t contain the small whimper that you let out. All rational thinking was out the window and all you wanted was the feeling of him all over you.

The feeling of him lapping at your folds was tortuous, and every time you felt his tongue brush up against your clit it made your legs tremble beneath you. Despite the fact that Tendou could feel your legs beginning to get shaky, he only wanted to see you submit to him more. He tentatively slipped one finger inside of you, causing you to let out a high-pitched whine.

All you could focus on was the stretch of your insides from Tendou’s finger. He had sheathed it inside you suddenly, not letting you adjust to the feeling, and was now starting to rub against that spongy spot inside of you. You could feel your eyes beginning to go glossy from pleasure and you felt like your knees were about to give out. Tendou wasn’t giving you any time to adjust to the sensations and you could almost feel the hungry smirk on his face while he was playing with you.

When his other hand moved down to your clit it almost made you fall to your knees, but he made sure to hold you up, keeping you in your humiliating position for him to view. Almost every time he pushed his fingers into you you had to bite your lip to keep moans from coming out— any more and you didn't think you would be able to hold back.

Tendou let out a small chuckle as he watched you struggle to maintain your balance and keep quiet. He knew that you were in a secluded enough area where you could be loud, but seeing the pathetic attempt you gave only made you look more adorable. Seeing you in such a pitiful state was making it hard for him to keep his patience, but he knew he needed to stretch your tight little cunt out more before he would be able to fuck you how he wanted to.

Tendou slipped a second finger inside of you, making you clamp a hand over your mouth, and began scissoring inside of you, making sure you would be ready to take his cock.

“Good girl, you’re doing so well, you know that right?”

You felt a wave of heat go through you at the praise along with the feeling of your pussy tightening up around his fingers— earning an approving “mm” from Tendou.

“Do you think you’re ready to take me, sweetheart?” he said, beginning to go rougher on your clit, causing you to let out a gasp. You desperately nodded your head and let out a small “mhm,” wanting to have him fill you up completely.

“Come on baby, use your words for me,” he said, stilling his motions until he got an answer from you.

“Y-Yes Tendou, p-please,”

“There you go, see you can do it,” he said, pulling his fingers out of you and standing up. It took all your strength, but you turned your head to look up at him and got to watch as he stuck his fingers in his mouth, greedily sucking off the residue from your cunt. The sight made you clench around nothing and made your head go fuzzy at the thought of him enjoying the taste of you. You eagerly watched as he quickly pulled down his shorts and boxers, revealing his hard cock which already had a bead of precum at the tip.

“W-Wait T-Tendou we don’t have protection!” you said, collecting just enough consciousness to remember basic sex education.

“Shh don’t worry, I’ll pull out,” he said, placing a hand on your ass, rubbing soothing strokes with his thumb. You knew that you shouldn’t continue and that it wasn’t safe, but your pleasure-filled brain didn’t care. All you wanted was to feel him filling you up and stretching your tight little cunt out— you could worry about the consequences later.

The feeling of the tip of his cock pressing up against your entrance was enough to make you whine out his name, begging for more. Waiting was causing you too much agony and you began to buck your hips against him, trying to push him inside you.

“Eager aren’t we,” he said, his voice more strained than before. He slowly began to push his dick into you, causing your eyes to roll back and a needy moan to fall from your lips. You could hear his breathing getting ragged behind you as he got further into your tight cunt, filling you up more than you had ever been before. He was only halfway inside of you by the time he hit your cervix . The pain of having him so deep inside of you was masked by the utter ecstasy you felt from thinking about how much he was stretching you out.

Tendou was leaning over you, one hand gripping your hip while the other was wrapped around your waist pulling you up against him. You could hear his ragged breathing next to your head and the way his breath hitched as he pulled out of you before ramming back in.

He didn’t give you nearly enough time to adjust to his size, and the pace he was fucking you at was ruthless, causing a dull pain to form in your cunt as he began to bruise it. Eventually, though, you adjusted to the feeling of your walls being stretched so far and began to only feel the pleasure as his cock dragged along your slick insides.

You were unable to keep your mouth shut and had resorted to letting it hang open, allowing all your moans and whimpers to fall out. Your hands were beginning to slip against the door as Tendou continued to rail you and you scrambled to keep supporting yourself.

“Fuck baby, you’re so tight… so, so tight, just for me…” Tendou mumbled, his eyes shut tight trying to concentrate on not cumming inside of you. The way you felt around him was better than he ever could have imagined. He had to make sure you came before him, he wanted to cum with you so badly— he needed to feel your walls flutter around his cock as you moaned his name.

“How does it feel, sweetheart? Does it feel good? Tell me it feels good. I wanna hear you say it,” he rambled, his movements becoming more sloppy as he continued to fuck into you. His hand moved down to your clit and began to roughly play with it, causing you to tighten up around him.

“I-It feels so good Tendou mm- I-I love it so much,” you whined, only halfway aware of what you were saying.

“I’ve wanted to fuck you like this for so long. I’ve been interested in you for so long too— but you only want him, you only want Ushijima don’t you, you fucking slut.” His words mixed with his harsh tone confused you as you tried to decipher the meaning of them. It was so hard to think with him pistoning into you like this, making you go loopy.

“Tell me that you love me, not him, I wanna hear you say it so badly,” he said, his fingers digging into your hip, sure to leave bruises.

You weren’t sure why you said it, but it slipped out of your mouth before you could truly think about it, “I-I love you Tendou, I-I love you more than anyone else.” Those words were enough to bring him right to the brink of orgasm, making him have to fully concentrate on fucking you as hard as he could to get you to cum first. The combination of his fingers rubbing your clit in tantalizing circles and the feeling of him ramming into your womb was what caused you to finish. You felt the tension in your stomach snap and you let out a loud moan as your walls spasmed around him. You heard Tendou mutter a string of curses, trying his best to remain calm and in control.

“Fuck, baby you’re so tight, I don’t know if I can pull out,” he said, his grip on you digging into your skin. In your fucked out head the thought of having him cum inside you was almost too much— despite your safety you wanted to feel it.

“P-Please, please cum inside me, please I want it so badly,” you moaned out, not even processing what you were saying. Even though he knew he should pull out, hearing your cute little voice beg for him to fill you up was too much for Tendou, making him ram into you a few more times before cumming with you. You could feel his hot cum spilling into your pussy and dripping out the sides, making your legs weak.

As you were both coming down all that could be heard was the heavy breathing from both of you echoing in the bathroom. Tendou pulled out, letting the mixture inside of you begin to drip out. He held you tightly, making sure that you didn’t fall over or hit your head on the door in front of you.

You felt so worn out once you came down from your orgasm. The only thing you wanted to do was to lay down next to him but you knew you couldn’t in such a confined space.

You slowly moved your arms, trying your best to maintain your balance as you turned around to wrap your arms around his neck. You both sat down, and Tendou cupped a hand behind your head, running his fingers through your hair. The thoughts about Ushijima and blackmail had completely left your mind and the feeling of him beneath you, strong and warm, was the only thing you wanted to focus on.

After a few minutes Tendou broke the silence, tilting your head up to look at him, “So, do you still want your letter back?”

You scowled at him, receiving a small laugh before you nestled back into his chest, ready to fall asleep.

#haikyuu!!#tendou #smut #haikyu x reader #haikyu #haikyu fic #tendou satori #tendou x reader #tendou fic

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staticscreenwriting · 4 years ago

Text

LOVE LIKE THE MOVIES // BUCKY BARNES

TWO - Grease 1 & 2

Masterlist

Summary: This is a story of boy meets girl. The boy, Bucky Barnes, finds himself thrown into a world that seems so different from everything he’s ever known. The girl, (Y/N) knows entirely too much about rom-coms and is quite particular about the way she eats her popcorn. Bucky meets (Y/N) a few months after returning to NYC. He knows almost immediately that becoming her friend is inevitable. This is a story of boy meets girl. This is a story about love. (Bucky Barnes x female!Reader // a few spoilers for TFATWS)

[additional note: I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please.]

“ I made a friend. “

Dr. Raynor doesn’t look up from her notebook but the slightly surprised raise of her eyebrow doesn’t get lost on Bucky.

“ Thought you might want to know. “

She stops writing for a second and glances up at him, her eyes holding a certain sense of hesitation and reluctance. He can almost see the gears in her head turning. She’s trying to get one step ahead of him, figure out what smartass comment he’ll throw at her. Only this time there isn’t one. This time it’s all genuine. It’s all true.

“ I do. That’s — good. Where’s the catch? “

“ There’s no catch. I made a new friend, just like that. And it’s not some making amends thing either. “

She closes her notebook, places it on the table to her right, and then folds her hands in her lap the way she does sometimes when Bucky knows he’s said something important. He has her entire and undivided attention.

“ That’s good, James. Tell me more about this friend. “

“ Her name is (Y/N). She’s a waitress and she’s really into movies. “

“ Oh. “

“ Oh? “

“ It’s a woman. “

“ Yeah it’s a woman, is that a problem? “ Bucky asks. Now it’s time for him to raise an eyebrow in question.

“ No. It’s not. I just didn’t expect it. “

“ Are you saying men and women can’t be friends? That’s awfully antiquated thinking, Doc. Have you ever seen when Harry met Sally? “

“ I have. Have you?”

Bucky scoffs as if the question is an insult to his intelligence.

“ Sure. It’s a classic. “

He hits her with a sarcastic grin, the one he knows she hates. The one she knows is fake and fabricated but that allows him to be unreadable to her for just a second.

“ Well then. I’m glad you’re making friends. It’s a big step, James. But I don’t want you to get attached to someone because you think that’s gonna make you get out of this arrangement any sooner, “ she says and motions her finger around the room in a twirling motion. “ It’s a more permanent situation. I hope you are aware of that.”

Eyes averted to the floor, Bucky nods his head in understanding.

“ I know. That’s not the reason. I — she knows me. Knows about me before all of the bad stuff. In her eyes, I am the man I used to be before Hydra. It’s nice to go back to that even if it’s not the truth. (Y/N) gives me a chance to figure out who I am right now without being reminded of all the bad things I did. “

When he looks back up Dr. Reynor regards him with a look he’s never seen before. Softer. She even smiles a little bit and he hardly ever sees her smile. Granted, he doesn't make these sessions easy for her so what does he expect really? Her smiling at him feels like he’s doing something right.

“ She sounds lovely. “

“ She talks so much and she sends me weird videos I don’t understand. Like, yesterday she sent me one of a kid saying he’s 19 and he can’t read and — I have no idea what it meant. And she makes fun of me for having a flip phone. But it’s not mean-spirited or anything. She doesn’t make me feel left out. Doesn’t make me feel stupid. “

“ Anything else you know about her? “

“ Her coffee tastes horrible. “

Dr. Reynor lets out an airy chuckle. “ James, I like the fact that you’re making friends. We all need friends, especially during times when we feel like we’re lost or have no direction in life. And it sounds like this friendship is good for you. “

“ But? “

“ Why do you think there’s a but ? “

“ There always is. “

She regards him for a second then nods slightly. “ You’re right. But it’s not a bad one. Listen, it seems like this woman knows a lot about who you used to be. How about you learn a little more about her? Even the playing field. A friendship is based on mutual understanding and trust. That’s my homework for you. Get to know her better. “

“ Your homework is for me to spend time with a friend? “

“ Yes. Now that doesn’t sound so bad, does it? “

Bucky shakes his head in reply.

No, that really doesn’t sound all that bad.

The bell above the door chimes as Bucky steps inside the diner. It’s quite a bit more crowded than the last time he’s been here.

“ Grumpy!”

His head snaps towards the counter at the enthusiastic exclamation of his new nickname.

(Y/N) stands behind the counter clad in the diner’s signature baby blue polo shirt, a pencil tugged behind her ears, and a frilly apron wrapped around her waist.

Her lips pull into a smile as he approaches and plops down onto one of the barstools.

“ You have impeccable timing, Grumpy.”

“ I guess that’s gonna stick? “

(Y/N) only nods her head in agreement, eyes full of mischief and determination. There’s no sense in arguing about this topic. That’s one nickname set in stone now. And really, it’s not like it doesn’t fit him.

“ I have something for you. “

“ You do? “

“ Well it’s not technically for you specifically but I need someone to try it so — “

Before he can even react she rushes back into the kitchen, her sneakers creating squeaking sounds on the shiny linoleum floor.

“ Do you want some coffee? “ the other waitress approaches, holding out the pot filled with the dark brew. It smells warm and delicious and Bucky wants to say yes until he remembers the last time he’s had coffee here and how bitter and burned it had been. And how he drank it anyway because he couldn’t bear to let (Y/N) know that her coffee was horrible.

“ Don’t worry, “ the waitress speaks up again, obviously picking up on Bucky’s complicated feelings towards the diner’s coffee “ I made it. Won’t let her near the pot when I’m around.”

“ In that case, please. “

Just as the mug fills with coffee, (Y/N) comes back tumbling around the corner and out of the kitchen. She leans against the counter, next to the red-haired waitress, and plops a Tupperware container in front of Bucky.

“ Try these and tell me what you think. “

Bucky takes a sip of his coffee before slowly opening the container to be greeted by a pile of cookies, of all shapes and sizes, no two quite the same.

“ Cookies? “

“ Eat one! “

“ Whoa, hold up.” Bucky exclaims as he raises his hands in mock defense. “ this sounds awfully suspicious to me. Are you trying to pull a Snow White on me here? “

(Y/N) eyes grow big and the most radiant smile spreads across her face at his words.

“ You made a pop culture reference!”

“ Saw it in the cinema. “

“ No way.”

“ Mmmh. With my sister.”

“ I just decided I love it when you make pop culture references. “

“ Noted.”

“ Okay, so since no one thinks it’s important to introduce me, let me do it myself,” the red-haired waitress chimes in and holds out her hand for Bucky to shake. He can see her eyebrows furrow a little as she notices his gloves. It’s not yet cold enough for people to not wonder about it. They know something ain’t right with him and he hates it. Wishes they’d just disregard it. Act like it’s a completely normal and feasible thing.

“ I’m Robin, (Y/N)’s best friend. “

“ I’m Bucky. Hopefully, not the first victim of (Y/N)’s poisoning.”

“ Oh, how arrogant of you to assume you’d be the first. If you don’t want my cookies, give ‘em back !”

(Y/N) tries to reach across the counter only for Bucky to snatch the container away holding it out of her reach. “ You gave me the cookies, you can’t take them back. That’s not how gifts work.”

“ Then try one for god’s sake! “

“ Alright, calm down. I will. “

He hates the fact that both (Y/N) and Robin are staring at him as he takes a bite of one of the cookies. The whole thing is almost the size of his face and littered with chocolate chips. It’s a damn mess of a cookie and he’d loved to have been there when she made them. No doubt it was chaos. No doubt it was an awful lot of fun too.

The cookie is — a lot. It’s too much sugar, too much chocolate. Too much of everything. He can practically feel the cavities building with every bite he takes. It’s that sweet.

But she looks at him with such glee in her eyes and this big beautiful smile that rivals the sun with its brightness and there’s no way in hell he can tell her the truth. Not when lying about it keeps that smile on her face.

Quite honestly, Bucky thinks, life isn’t about telling the truth at all times. Sometimes, life is about knowing when to use your little white lies. Sometimes telling the truth isn’t doing anyone any favor.

“ So ? “

“ They’re — sweet.”

And they are. So really, it isn’t even an actual lie after all.

“ Good. They’re supposed to be. You see, I have a date tomorrow and I asked him what his favorite dessert was and he said cookies. I’m not sure they count as a dessert but anyway. Thanks for being my guinea pig. “

Robin throws him a look over (Y/N)’s shoulder. A look that lets him know she’s not buying it. She’s looking right through him. But she smiles so maybe she too realizes that sometimes lying saves everyone the heartache that may come with the truth.

“ You have a date? “

“ I do. His name is Russell, we’ve been hanging out for a while but he had to go to Europe for work and we haven’t seen each other in a few months. It was never anything serious, kind of a wrong place, wrong time thing. But maybe this time it works. “

“ Oh please, “ Robin exclaims, furiously slamming the pot back into the coffee machine. “ This loser has been stringing you along for far too long now. He’s not worth it. Trust me you can do so much better than him. “

There’s something about the way (Y/N) mood changes, the way she falters, that Bucky doesn’t like. Not even a tiny little bit. It’s a split second, just the whisper of a moment and then she’s back to her joking, bubbly self. But that tiny second is enough. Enough for Bucky to know he never wants to see it again. The doubt and hurt fluttering across her eyes. He’s seen too much hurt in too many eyes. It’s never getting any easier. It just makes him realize how much he hates seeing it in hers.

“ Ignore the crazy lady, he’s not that bad.” (Y/N) tries to reason, though the light and airy tone in her voice doesn’t sound quite as convincing as it usually does.

“ He refuses to put a label on your relationship and he treats you like you’re disposable. “

“ Sounds like a catch, is this the one with the fish picture or the one with the star wars facts? “ Bucky asks, biting off yet another piece of the tooth-achingly sweet cookie.

“ Neither. We met while walking our dogs. He’s nice, really. “

“ Sounds like it. “

“ He is. Robin over there just thinks she’s the expert on romance because she’s about to get married. Don’t believe a thing she says. Her own fairytale romance makes her blind to other people’s romantic struggles. “

Robin shakes her head in disagreement, making her red curls bounce with each motion. “ You’re a big girl, you know what you’re doing. I’m just calling things as I see them. Anyway, I gotta serve table 4.”

Silence falls upon them as Robin leaves to tend to the customers and (Y/N) averts her eyes back towards the countertop.

“ Hey, “ Bucky speaks up, getting (Y/N) to look up and meet his eyes. “ I hope the date turns out well for you, you deserve that. And if it doesn’t, just text me and we can watch another movie or something. “

“ You’d do that for me? “

“ Yeah. Sure. It’s what friends do. We’re friends now — right ? “

(Y/N) smiles “ right!”

And it’s nice, Bucky thinks, to have a friend again. Even though it’s all new and fresh, it feels wonderful. Like a tiny bit of weight has been taken from his shoulders. Like he can take a breath for the first time in a long time.

Joe’s Pizzaria is an American restaurant that tries desperately to trick Americans into thinking it’s an authentic Italian restaurant.

And while it does have a certain undeniable charm, (Y/N) gets a bit tired of chomping down on yet another breadstick while staring at the red and white checkered tablecloth and pretending not to grasp the gravity of the situation. He’s not gonna come. He’s two hours late. Two whole hours. Half a bottle of wine and one salad late. The waiters pity her, it’s painfully obvious. The way they keep checking on her, keep asking if there’s anything they can bring her. Keep filling her breadstick with no upcharge.

Pity, (Y/N) thinks, is her least favorite emotion. It doesn’t do anyone any good and in the end, everyone just feels worse.

A "ping" coming from her phone pulls (Y/N) from her thoughts and for a teeny-tiny second a flicker of hope sparks in her heart that maybe Russell is just late and this is him apologizing and explaining. Maybe she was worth it to him after all.

Then her eyes register the name on the screen and disappointment fills her veins. Does he really not care? Does she really mean so little to him, he doesn't even feel the need to cancel the date? Is this some sick joke?

Bucky's message reads: Hope you're having fun. Did he like the cookies?

It's a weird feeling, to know someone she hasn't known for very long wastes even the smallest thought on her while her date doesn't give a shit. All it does is set into perspective that her blossoming friendship with Bucky is worth any effort it might take.

"Don't ask. Hey, what are you doing right now?"

"Oh, that bad? Not much. Trying to figure out what to have for dinner. Why?"

"How do you feel about spaghetti and meatballs?"

He doesn’t have a couch.

That’s the one thought that spooks around his head as soon as he realizes what he’s just agreed to.

He’s been living here for months and he doesn’t even have a fucking couch.

When (Y/N) asked if she could come around, when she said she’d bring food and asked if her dog could come, he couldn’t say no. Not when she's already been stood up that night. Nevertheless, everything inside him starts twisting up in knots at the thought of opening his home to another person. Home. That’s really the problem now that he thinks about it. This place doesn’t feel like a home. It’s 4 walls and a roof. Nothing has felt like home in a long time.

He invited her over and he doesn’t even have a fucking couch.

There’s a TV and an armchair, a few cupboards, a chair, and a bed he doesn’t sleep in. Sometimes he thinks back to his childhood home, with all his mother's porcelain figurines collecting dust on the shelves and the wall of family pictures. It felt warm and cozy and like it was meant for people to live and learn and grow. It was their own.

This apartment is a box for him to stay at. Nothing here is in any way personal. But how do you make something your own when you don’t even know who you really are? When all you remember are times long gone or times you want to forget.

He snatches the sheets and pillow off the floor and throws them on his bed. He might not be able to get any more furniture in time for (Y/N) to arrive but he sure as hell doesn’t need to let her know that his nightmares don’t allow him to sleep in his own damn bed.

A knock sounds from the front door and for a second, Bucky’s blood turns cold as ice. No one ever talks about how scary it is to let people in. Would it matter to her and their friendship that his apartment is just as empty as he feels inside?

As soon as he opens the door, a fluffy bundle of white and brown fur rushes past him and runs a lap around his living room before settling by his feet, tail wagging and tongue hanging from his mouth.

“ Oh god, sorry. She’s just so excited to meet new people. “

Giving the dog a few pets, Bucky turns back to (Y/N), who gives him one of her signature sunshine smiles as she holds out a paper bag to him. The smell of delicious food reaches Bucky’s nose as he takes the bag from her and ushers her inside.

“ So, Spaghetti? “

“ Yup. And meatballs. “

Bucky nods his head in approval, “ Sounds good to me. “

She smiles at him again but there’s a kind of sadness surrounding her that he wishes he could take away. Whoever that Russell guy is, he’s a damn fool for not showing up.

“ Food’s still warm so if you tell me where your plates are … “ (Y/N) trails off as she really takes in the state of his apartment for the first time since she’s stepped inside. He can basically see the thoughts running through her head, one after the other, none sticking around long enough to form a coherent string of words to express what she’s thinking. He knows she wants to comment, can see it in her eyes. But something is holding her back and he can’t blame her. Their friendship isn’t that deep yet. You don’t ask someone you’ve just gotten friendly with why their apartment is so fucking empty. It’s sad and there are implications there that run deeper than one can see.

So to spare her any more awkward silence, Bucky speaks up again.

“ I uh — I just moved in. Haven’t gotten around to getting much furniture. We can sit by the kitchen counter or you can take the armchair and I’ll take the floor. “

“ That’s fine, we’ll make it work, “ she replies, before turning towards the kitchen cupboards, “ now … plates ?”

“ This is delicious “ Bucky exclaims as he stuffs yet another fork of Spaghetti into his mouth.

Lady, (Y/N)'s Cocker Spaniel, casually lounges on his armchair, eyes always trained on the dishes of pasta, while Bucky and (Y/N) sit on the floor, backs against the wall.

“ Right? I love Meatballs. Last time I was at Joe’s Pizzeria, I was there with Russell and he got real pretentious about not ordering Spaghetti and Meatballs from an Italian restaurant because it wasn’t authentic Italian cuisine. As if I care. It tastes good, that’s all that matters.”

“ Well, he really does sound better with every new thing you tell me about him.”

(Y/N) shrugs and avoids eye contact with him. It’s strange, Bucky thinks, to see her this way. All of her bubbly personality and contagious energy are suddenly drained from her. Like someone squeezed her too tightly and pushed all the joy out.

“ Yeah he’s an asshole, I don’t know what I was thinking. I guess whatever we had going on just felt familiar and sometimes going back to something you know, even though it’s bad for you, is easier than opening yourself to something new. “

“ Wow, my therapist would love you. That sounded so smart.”

“ It did, didn’t it?,” (Y/N) says and lets out a little chuckle. It’s nice to hear her laugh even though it doesn’t hold the radiance, the pure happiness it usually does.

“She gave me some homework.”

(Y/N) looks at Bucky between bites, raising an eyebrow in intrigue. “ She did? “

“ Mmmh. I told her about you and our friendship and she thought that, because you know a lot about me, I should learn some things about you. “

(Y/N) quickly swallows the pasta before placing both her hands over her heart and staring at Bucky with an expression he can’t entirely read. There’s a glimmer of mischief in her eyes but there’s more, he just needs to figure out what exactly it is.

“ You talk to your therapist about me? Awww. That’s how you know a friendship is worthwhile. When they mention you to their therapist, that’s when you know it’s real. “

“ Aw man, now you’re just making fun of me. I take it all back. “

“ No! No, Bucky. I think that’s very sweet and it makes me feel important,” there’s a sincerity in her eyes that makes him feel a little weird. Not a bad weird. Just — different. He didn’t think this was gonna be such a big deal to her. And while he still feels extremely self-conscious about it all, he’s a little glad that he mentioned her to Dr. Reynor. Maybe it would do both of them some good, him and (Y/N).

“ It’s nice that our new friendship matters enough for you to mention it to her. Getting stood up by Russell felt like a punch in the guts. It made me feel incredibly inadequate and like I wasn’t worth enough for him to text me let alone show up. Knowing that there’s someone who thinks about me every once in a while, that’s a nice feeling. Least my friends think I’m worth it. "

Hearing those words fall from her lips sends a wave of anger and disbelief through Bucky. (Y/N) is the first person in a long while that makes him feel like he can figure out who he is and who he was and not feel guilty about it. To think she feels inadequate or like she's not good enough is just unbelievable to him.

"Just forget about that guy, he's clearly an idiot. You deserve someone who shows up. When it matters and even when it doesn't. "

"He didn't even get to try my cookies. I worked so hard on them."

"What? Oh my god, okay see - he's a damn fool. Those cookies were - so sweet. His loss, really."

(Y/N)'s laughter echoes through the halls of his empty apartment and Bucky thinks that maybe that was one of the things missing from this place to really make it a home. Emotions. Laughter and joy. Something other than fear and regret. Something other than pain.

“ Bucky, you’re so nice but you don’t have to lie. I know the cookies weren’t all that great. “

“ No! They were good, they were just — very sweet. And you know what? You deserve a guy who eats them anyway.”

She doesn’t give him a reply to that comment and maybe it doesn’t ask for one either. Some statements don’t need answers, they just are.

“ Hey, do you want my last meatball? “ he asks, and at her smile and enthusiastic nod, he rolls it from his plate onto hers.

“ Now what movie did you bring? “

“ Oh boy, “ (Y/N) proclaims and looks at Bucky with an unwavering excitement “ you’re in for a wild ride. Tonight we’re doing a double feature.”

“ Bringing the big guns, huh? “

“ You have no idea. Tonight we’re watching Grease 1 and 2. “

Two couples stare back at Bucky from the bubblegum-colored DVD case (Y/N) pulls from her purse. Something about the bright colors and the over-the-top hairstyles makes Bucky think that these movies won’t be the absolute pinnacle of sophisticated filmmaking.

“ What’s the lesson this time?“

“ Eh, “ (Y/N) says and shrugs “ when I was younger I thought it was meant to teach you that if you want to be with someone you can overcome any obstacle. No matter how different you seem or what other people might think. Now that I’m an adult I think it’s just about the 50s aesthetic and the killer musical number. “

“ Musical numbers? “

“ Mmmh. And well, the second one is pure garbage but it’s so bad it’s good. It also helps that Michelle Pfeiffer and Maxwell Caulfield look absolutely gorgeous in this film. “

“ So this isn’t gonna help me with my romance skills then? “

(Y/N) regards him for a second, purses her lips, and taps the side of her face as she thinks about her answer. “ I mean, the second movie is basically about how cool men who ride motorcycles are. Do you ride a motorcycle? “

“ I do actually. “

“ What? Oh, you just got 10 times cooler. One could say you’re a — cool rider.”

Bucky furrows his eyebrow in confusion.

“ Don’t worry, Grumpy. You’ll get the reference later.”

“ If I’m Grumpy, which of the 7 dwarves are you? “

“ Sleepy? “

“ Dopey? “

“ No. How about Happy ?”

It’s meant to be silly, just a joke really, but Bucky can’t help but think that it fits her. Even when she’s sad, there’s an infinite positivity in her eyes, an aura of joy and happiness and being around her is just so easy.

“ You know what? I think that’s the one. “

“ I like it. Now — let me introduce you to the students of Rydell High.”

“ What in the world did you just make me watch? “ Bucky asks as the end credits to Grease 2 roll across the tv screen. Lady is snuggled up in his lap and his right hand lazily combs through her soft fur.

“ Two absolute masterpieces. “

“ In the first one they flew away in a car. And that second one, I don’t even know what to say.”

“ Because it was so good? “

“ Mmmmh no. That's not why. “

"Oh please, you can admit you l-" a big yawn interrupts her words and Bucky notices just how tired she looks right then.

"You're tired." It's not a question, more an observation.

"Mmmh Lady and I should probably head out."

He doesn't want her to leave. Disappointment, it's a feeling he knows very well, it's familiar and almost comfortable. Usually, though, that disappointment is directed towards himself. A lovely dose of self-deprecation. This time it's different. This time he's disappointed about the situation. About the prospect of being alone again. Alone in his empty box of an apartment.

The anxiety of letting someone in is slowly being overshadowed by his fear of being alone again. With his thoughts and his failures and the images of all the faces that have ever looked at him in fear.

"You can stay"

"Bucky … you don't have a couch. Where would I sleep?"

"Bed," he says as if it's the most obvious of all answers ever given.

"Grumpy, I'm not taking your bed."

"I'm not sleeping there anyway."

"Why?"

Her eyes are so soft and gentle as the question tumbles from her lips. So full of concern. For him. Concern and care, for him. It's not like he deserves it but it's a nice feeling either way.

"It's too soft."

It's painfully obvious that she knows there's more to it, that his words hold more gravity and weight than just that simple fact.

She doesn’t push it though and for that Bucky is eternally grateful. Sure, talking to her is easy and it helps him in some way or another. But this, his nightmares and his trauma and the faces that won't leave his thoughts, that haunt him as soon as he falls asleep, that's a can of worms he's not ready to open yet.

"Where do you sleep?"

"Floor."

"Oh, Grumpy. Hey uh - how about we both stay on the floor? You're in luck too because I also have a live version of Grease the musical we can watch."

He doesn't necessarily want to watch another movie where they sing pretty much every two minutes but if it means she'll stay, he'll do it.

" Okay then."

"Okay."

That night, Bucky sleeps on the floor just like he does every night only this time there's a friend with him just a few meters away , close enough but not suffocating, and a dog resting on his chest, softly breathing gentle breaths.

That night Bucky sleeps on the floor just like he does every night only this night, there are no nightmares.

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emmie-sue-who · 2 years ago

Text

Butterfly Season

While we’re waiting for his girlfriend to pick him up, Bryce is lecturing me on punctuation. “The semicolon,” he says, “is for writers that are scared of commitment. Just end things. Let them be over when they’re over.”

***

I used to smile pretty for my ex. Sometimes all I can think about is how many times I showed him my teeth. I wonder what kind of person I was to him, if he saw me how I saw him—more fangs than pearls most of the time.

The thing is I can’t leave the past in the past. I’ll carry it all, hoard every memory until my mind is uninhabitable. The space he occupies is nonfunctional, but I don’t pitch him out, clear room for the next thing. I am only ever stacking the next thing on top.

***

When I took Standard English Grammar, Clay made some off-hand comment about “advanced punctuation.” The professor asked what he meant and he said, “You know, semicolons and stuff.”

He got reamed for it by half of the room. My best friend leaned over to me. “Journalism major,” she muttered with a roll of her eyes.

I shrugged. “I’m pretty much a journalism intern.”

“Student writing intern,” she corrected. “Wash your mouth out with soap, and recite ‘I’m majoring in literature’ 50 times.”

***

Butterfly catching is for children. Something I graduated beyond without ever doing. I stood in the field and watched the others chase all of the brightly colored, vibrant things while listening to him explain how little I knew.

He was right there. No net needed. Butterflies, the least of my concerns. This was love, without the puppy-dog optimism.

He sneered at foolhardy romance, at supposed soul mates fawning over each other. He loved me like I was disposable, and it was, in its way, more practical. All things will end one way or another.

But how I’ve wished I could have caught a beautiful, flighty, impractical promise of something more.

***

My writing professor told me it’s not that you can’t use the semicolon; it’s just that you have to have a reason for it. The thoughts have to be linked, parallel somehow. If you can’t answer the question of why you didn’t end the sentence there, you probably should have.

***

How I’ve wished that when I met her, I’d had a clear space. How I’ve wished she could’ve been the first, the butterfly season.

It’s not so much him that I was stuck on. There would have been no relationship between the two if not for the fact that somewhere along the way his outlook became my own. I decided that to change my life forever, for her, for the limited period she would occupy it, was not worth the hassle.

I missed the window for frivolity. Love, the second time, had a gleam I now recognized as deceptively overvalued. To spare myself having to end it where it would’ve run its course, I did not start it at all.

It is not how I wished to think; it is not a line of thought I can stop believing.

How I’ve wished, when I hear it echoed in my feelings for her, that I had never met him.

***

We don’t use semicolons at the company I work for. It’s explicitly written into the style guide that we avoid them. “Use an em dash if you have to,” my boss told me, “but the goal is to keep our sentences as short as possible.”

***

My best friend scoffs at me.

“It is a non sequitur to say that because you loved someone once and it went poorly, loving someone again will be just as bad,” she tells me.

I fixate first on whether it’s accurate to say things went poorly, whether ‘bad’ is really the quality I have carried over from my relationship with him to a greater association with love. It is not, I realize, her point. Her point is that I carried anything at all.

I connected him with my present, let him bleed into it. Sometimes all I can think about is her. Smiling—all pearls, no fangs.

I should have laid him to rest. She should have been something new. Her own sentence. Simple. Separate.

***

“And another thing,” Bryce says as his girlfriend pulls into the lot, “semicolons don’t do any favors for people who have issues with run-ons.”

#creative writing #my words #writing #fiction #my writing

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let-the-dream-begin · 4 years ago

Text

In My Daughter’s Eyes Chapter 32: Beginnings

Chapter 31

Read on AO3

December 31

“Faith, baby, wake up.”

Currently, her little face was smooshed against Jamie’s shoulder, lips open in sleep. It was 11:55, and Faith was down for the count at 9:00 this year, despite having made it all the way to midnight last year. It was probably due to the fact that she was up at three in the morning last night, stimming and screaming her head off with glee until breakfast, Risperdal and Angus no match for the will of autism and a wound up five year old. Even Claire was entirely too exhausted to be awake, New Year or not, but she wouldn’t have missed this party for the world.

“Come on, lass,” Jamie jostled Faith a bit in his arms. “I’ve got ye a wee blower. I ken ye like those.” He tickled her nose with the noiseless paper blower, and she stirred, rubbing her nose roughly against his shoulder. Jamie and Claire both chuckled.

“Come on, Faithie! It’s almost midnight! New Year! Remember?”

Her eyes opened, rather reluctantly.

“There she is,” Jamie said. “Here ye go.”

He deposited the blower in her hands, and she seemed to completely wake up in a split second.

“I wish mine was sleeping,” Jenny groused, watching her son run circles around the coffee table with Thomas and a few typical siblings that were as hyper as he was. “I wouldna be waking him up fer anything.”

“Believe me, I know I shouldn’t be waking her,” Claire said. “After the morning we had. But little celebrations are very important to Faith. Right, lovie?”

The little girl was currently preoccupied blowing into her toy and allowing the unfurling paper to hit Jamie in the face. He was giving quite an animated, exaggerated reaction that was sending Faith into fits of giggles that kept her wanting more.

“What did I tell ye,” Jenny mumbled. “He’s a giant child.”

Claire snorted, shaking her head lovingly. “I do love that about him.”

“It’s good he’s found someone who does.”

Mary and Alex had been more than happy to add Jamie and his entire family to the invite list once Claire had timidly asked. She’d felt strange doing it; it was one thing to ask to bring her boyfriend that was practically Faith’s father, and entirely another thing to ask to bring three more adults and two more children that they’d never met. Jenny had offered that they’d find something to do on their own, that Claire needn’t bother, but Claire had insisted that they spend the holiday together, even if Mary and Alex couldn’t swing it. She’d been fully prepared to have the entire Fraser-Murray clan in her apartment.

But Mary had been surprisingly enthusiastic about having Jamie’s family over, intrigued as she was by the man himself, and invested as she was (from the beginning) in their relationship.

“His sister is terrifying,” Mary had whispered after the first few minutes of the party. “She looks stone cold.”

“She’s not,” Claire assured her. “We get along really well. She’s really quite lovely underneath all that. You’ll see.”

With under a minute left until the new year began, Claire got up from where she’d been perched on the arm of the couch, and Jamie stood up with Faith. Ian scooped his wriggling son off the floor and settled him on his hip while Jenny reminded him with no little bite in her voice that he was not to scream and clap when the ball dropped.

“It’s a different kind of party, a quiet party. D’ye understand?”

“Aye, Mam.”

Maggie had been asleep for hours in her stroller, among a throng of other babies and toddlers strewn around the living room in carriers and strollers, but Brian scooped her up, careful not to wake her. Gillian slid in next to Claire and laced their hands together, just as she had always done for the countdown.

“Bit different this year, no?” Gillian whispered, smiling.

“Yes…a bit,” Claire smiled crookedly at Gillian, then up at Jamie.

“I hope it keeps getting different,” Gillian said, shoving her lightly with her shoulder. “If ye ken my meaning.”

Claire blushed furiously. Before she could open her mouth to reply, to chide her friend for implying right in front of Jamie that they ought to be married for the next New Year, the countdown from ten began, a quiet chant bubbling through the crowded living room. Jamie wound his arm around Claire’s shoulder, the arm that was not holding Faith, careful not to disrupt her grip on Gillian’s hand. Claire couldn’t put her finger on why that touched her as much as it did. His care to never overstep, to simply be an addition to their lives and never a replacement, always touched her.

“Five, four, three, two, one!”

Before Claire could blink, Gillian was loudly and grossly kissing her cheek, and she laughed out loud, grimacing in disgust.

“Of all the obnoxious…”

“Just staking my claim!” She winked up at Jamie, who was jolting violently with laughter.

“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ…”

“Ach, come here, lass.”

Claire craned her neck up as Jamie squeezed her shoulders, leaned down, and kissed her soundly. Claire felt Gillian give her hand one final squeeze before releasing it, and Claire used it to cup his face. This was by far not Claire’s first midnight kiss on New Year’s…but God, none of them had ever felt like this. Like a beginning, a promise, a gift, all in one.

They had to break away when Faith’s paper blower kept smacking both of their cheeks.

“You silly goose, happy new year, love,” Claire said, giggling. She signed it, coaxing Faith to copy. They’d been working on that one with her in school, along with Merry Christmas. “Yes, good job, baby. Tell Jamie, tell him happy new year.”

She did, rather lazily and hastily, preferring to blow the paper blower in his face again.

“Aye, happy new year to you too, ye wee heathen.”

Jamie kissed Faith’s cheek, and she squealed, squirming away. It became a game; every smack from the unfurling paper blower earned her a kiss on the cheek from her chosen victim. Jamie and Claire kept it going until Jenny popped over to wish them a happy new year, and Faith was blowing into her face too, and getting kiss after kiss from her Auntie, her Uncle Ian, and her Grandda. She was acting like she hated being bombarded like this, but Claire knew she was loving every second.

Claire turned around to find Gillian, to tell Faith to wish her a happy new year as well, but she was a bit busy getting her own New Year’s kiss. Toni had been with friends before arriving at 11:30 to watch the ball drop with Gillian, and soon they’d be off together to get wasted until God knows when with Toni’s friends. Toni had initially felt weird about coming at all, given that most, if not all of the attendees were kids and families she worked with, and Gillian had scoffed.

“If ye think Mister Jamie isna going to be snogging his lass in front of all the kids…”

That had earned her a smack on the arm from Claire.

Well, if anyone was closest to snogging, it was Gillian herself. Though it wasn’t all that bad; Toni and Gillian knew better considering the company they were in.

Claire turned back to Jamie to see that he was looking at the pair of them as well. They both smiled at each other, then pecked each other again.

“Happy New Year, Sassenach.”

“Happy New Year, my love,” Claire answered, nuzzling his nose with hers. “Here’s to more beginnings.”

“Aye.” He kissed her nose. “You are my beginning, Claire.” He kissed her right cheek. “And my middle,” then her left, “and my end.” He punctuated his profession with another kiss, and Claire melted.

She didn’t think she’d ever find a way to compete with his Shakespeare-like tendency for flowery words of love…but she didn’t think he minded.

——

January 15

Claire glanced nervously at the tea kettle, near to whistling already.

“It’s no’ a ticking time bomb, Sassenach,” Jamie chided.

“I know that,” she snapped.

“Hey…come on, now.” He sat down at the table and tried to meet her eye, and she obliged guiltily.

“Sorry.”

“It’s alright,” he brushed it off. “Ye said her first interview went great. What are ye so nervous about this time around?”

“Last time I scrubbed the apartment top to bottom, I picked up every barbie and lego and dog toy, cleaned out any leftovers that might have smelled…” She put her head in her hands. “I could prepare, you know? But there’s really no preparing someone for Faith. Or vice versa.”

“I see,” Jamie said. He took her hand, rubbing circles on her knuckles. “But listen. Ye said she was sweet as anything, sounded like she and Faith would get along great. And even if they don’t…it’s no’ the end of the world. There’s dozens of other staff that Morgan can pull out of her file. One of ‘em, or two, I suppose, are bound to be a good fit. No?”

“I know.” Claire sighed, squeezing his hand. “I know. Thank you. It’s just this…lingering panic from the days where every introduction was a disaster, and the disaster was my fault.”

“Those days are over, Sassenach.”

“I know.”

The previous day, Jamie had taken Faith to the park while Claire interviewed two potential candidates for Self Direction staff for Faith. Claire had done research before their move, and had applied for the program as soon as she’d gotten her work visa. She’d been told it would be one or two years before things would be set in motion for Faith to actually have staff, which is why she’d had to resort to finding Mrs. Lickett and paying her out of pocket all this time. Two weeks ago, Claire had finally been set up with a broker, Morgan, and from here on out, Medicaid would be paying Mrs. Lickett and the two new staff. Never again would Claire have to stress about being home in time to take Faith to the stables; that was something staff could do. There was always staff with some of the other kids at the stables, and Claire had always looked on longingly at the relationships they had. She’d go with them, of course, for the first few weeks, get Faith used to going with someone new, but in the long run, it would save her a lot of trouble.

The tea kettle started screaming, and Claire jumped up to stop it just as there was a knock on the door.

“I got it,” Jamie went for the kettle, nodding toward the door. “Go on.”

Claire smiled gratefully, feeling frantic and rushed despite the fact that she’d been sitting waiting for Leina’s arrival for twenty minutes now. Faith was climbing on the windowsill again to see who it was, and Claire pulled her down, lest she upset her plants (again). Claire wiped her sweaty palms on her jeans before opening the door.

“Hi!”

“Hi, Leina, great to see you again.”

Claire ushered the girl inside. She was petite for her age, twenty years old with shimmering dark hair and olive skin.

“Oh my goodness, is this Miss Faith?”

The little girl in question cowered behind Claire’s legs, wrapping her arms around her thigh for dear life.

“Yes, here she is.” Claire cupped Faith’s head. She beckoned Angus over in case Faith started getting upset over Leina’s presence. “And that’s Angus.”

“Wow, Faith. You have a really nice dog. Is he your best friend?” Leina signed friend, and Claire smiled.

“Go on, Faith. Tell Miss Leina that Angus is your friend.” Claire crouched down, so Faith latched onto her shirt instead, hiding her face in her mother’s hair. “Go on, tell her.” Faith signed friend, still not looking at Leina. “Good job.”

“That’s awesome, Faith. Good job,” Leina said warmly. “It’s so nice to meet you.”

Jamie appeared from the kitchen just then, and Faith bolted away from Claire and right into Jamie’s legs. Knowing exactly what she wanted, Jamie sighed and picked her up.

“Hi there,” he said. “I’m Jamie.” He stuck out a hand for Leina to shake, and Faith buried her face in his shoulder, her plan to retreat to Jamie apparently backfiring.

“Hi, nice to meet you. Claire told me so much about you.”

Leina had been incredibly receptive to the unusual family unit that Claire had presented her with. She hadn’t asked any questions when Claire had said that the father was not in the picture, she’d smiled widely when she’d explained Jamie’s role in their lives. Claire hadn’t wanted to bombard any candidates with “the boyfriend” before she knew it wasn’t going to be uncomfortable, which is why she’d had Jamie take Faith out.

“Do you want tea?” Claire jumped in. “The kettle just finished.”

“Oh, sure, thanks so much.”

Leina had accepted Claire’s offer of tea last time, so this time, Claire made sure to have everything ready, remembering just how Leina had liked it. When she returned with it, Jamie was gently yet firmly telling Faith that she needed to play, that she could not sit on his lap until Leina left. She silently thanked him as she handed the mug to Leina, knowing that he was preparing Faith for the eventuality of Leina playing with her.

Leina and Jamie sat on opposite ends of the couch, and Claire perched herself on the arm on Jamie’s side so as to not crowd the girl.

“So,” Jamie began, chipper. “Claire tells me ye’re in school for special education.”

“Yeah, sophomore year at Hofstra,” she said. “I went into it because my brother has autism, too.”

“Right, Claire told me. He’s verbal, though?”

“Yeah, I’ve never worked one-on-one with a nonverbal child, but I’ve interacted with them in a group setting where someone else was in charge.”

“And ye know signs?”

��Jamie,” Claire chided quietly. “It’s not an interrogation.”

Leina blushed, but she laughed. “It’s okay, I get it.”

“She was signing to Faith when she got here,” Claire said.

“Yeah, I’m not fluent by any means, but I know some.”

“Well, neither is Faith,” Claire said. “She’s absolutely still a beginner, and so am I, really. Jamie is the expert.”

Leina chuckled again.

“So, remind me of your availability?” Claire said.

“I’ve got class and volleyball Monday through Friday, except I’m free Wednesday nights.”

“Well, ye need time to do homework,” Jamie said reasonably. “Especially if we eat up yer weekends. Unless you want Wednesday nights?”

“I wouldn’t mind at all! I’m totally used to squeezing schoolwork into my schedule.”

“Well, the more hours the better, right?” Claire said with finality. “Wednesday, Saturday, and Sunday it is.”

“Wow, okay, great.”

Granted she gets along with Faith, of course.

“D’ye have any questions fer us?” Jamie asked.

“Claire answered a lot of them yesterday, but I’d love to hear more about what Faith does at the stables?”

Jamie then launched into the whole process, including her transition to a new therapist given the new situation. He even went into the science behind the therapy, why it was effective, how it changed children’s bodies and minds. Claire adored watching him like this, going on and on about the part of his life he was most proud of, Faith’s presence in that part of his life making it all the more sweet.

When the conversation petered out, they all knew it was time for Leina to attempt to talk to Faith. She’d been playing a video on her tablet and waving around a mermaid barbie, Angus’s head in her lap. Leina sat on the floor about four feet away from her and waved.

“I really like your mermaid, Faith. She’s super pretty.”

Claire and Jamie watched with bated breath, clinging far too tightly to one another given that they had company.

“Can you tell me what color her tail is?”

Faith kept her eyes on her tablet screen.

“Faith, I want to talk to you. I think it’s time to turn off the tablet.”

Claire bit her lip fiercely, her stomach flipping.

“Faith, listen to Miss Leina,” she said firmly. “Turn off the tablet. It’s all done.”

Leina threw a grateful smile her way as Faith exited out of all her apps and turned it off.

“Good girl,” Claire said.

“Thank you, Faith,” Leina said sweetly. “Can you tell me what color tail your mermaid has?”

Faith kept her eyes downcast, fidgeting with Angus’s fur, but she signed: blue.

“Yeah! Good job!” Leina said. “And what else?”

Faith signed purple.

“Yeah! So pretty, right?” Faith wiggled the doll, biting her lip. “Can you use your device to find colors?”

Faith picked up her communication tablet and said blue, then, when Leina prompted, purple.

“Yeah! Good job, Faith. What about her hair? What color is her hair?”

Yellow.

“Wow, you’re really smart.”

Faith giggled.

Claire felt Jamie’s eyes on her, and she glanced down at him. His eyes were wide, and he was grinning, making a “she’s amazing” face if Claire had ever seen one. Claire beamed back at him, and then Leina and Faith were shuffling into Faith’s room. Claire could hear Leina prompting Faith to name everything in her room, could hear the device answering, and could hear Leina’s praise when she signed colors.

“I’m seriously going to cry if this doesn’t work out,” Claire said. “I love her.”

“I do too,” Jamie said quickly. “Did ye tell her how much Faith loves naming colors?”

“No! I didn’t! She just knew exactly what to do!”

“Christ, I might cry if it doesn’t work out.”

Before long, they’d exhausted every item on Faith’s tablet to name things in her room, and then Claire heard the rattling of a puzzle.

“Do you think Leina is getting it? Or Faith?”

“Dinna ken.”

“Shh!”

“A puzzle? Do you want to do a puzzle with me?”

“She brought it to her!” Claire repeatedly smacked Jamie’s shoulder.

“Aye, I can hear!”

Faith, on her own, of her own volition, was inviting Leina to play with a toy of her choosing, one of her favorites, of all things.

“It’s working out, Jamie! It’s working out!”

“Shh!” It was his turn to hush her, her whispering getting a bit too loud. “Ye’re gonna scare her away, then it’ll be yer fault it doesna work out.”

“Oh, don’t even say that.”

Jamie squeezed her shoulder, reassuring her. “Nah, Sassenach,” he whispered. “Ye’re right. It’s working out.”

——

Valentine’s Day was a grueling Tuesday, a long day and a late night. Despite her exhaustion, Claire didn’t even have it in her to trudge up the staircase to her front door; it was bloody freezing outside. She shivered and breathed heavily as she fumbled with the key, opening and shutting the door so fast, she didn’t even see him right away.

He was there, as he’d been on their one month and a few anniversaries after that when she was working, and she’d somehow never managed to notice his car parked on the street any time. He was sitting with Amy, the other staff they’d taken on along with Leina. He could have sent her home before Claire arrived, but he’d likely not wanted to cut the woman’s hours short. She was a forty year old divorcee with children of her own and other clients already; she’d been looking to fill in holes in her week so she’d be closer to a forty hour work week. Faith got along with her just as well as she had with Leina.

“Hi,” Claire stammered, a little breathless.

“Hi there,” Jamie said, standing and revealing a ridiculous bouquet of roses. He never showed any shame in doting on her in front of whoever was there with Faith any given night, no matter how it made Claire blush.

She sighed with forced exasperation, given Amy’s presence, but she could feel her cheeks getting hot, burning hot.

“He’s just the sweetest thing, isn’t he?” Amy said, zipping up her coat, throwing her purse over her shoulder, and pulling her keys out.

“Yes…” Claire cleared her throat. “Ehm, thank you, Amy. She was good?”

“Oh, yeah, just fine,” Amy said. “I’ll get out of your hair. See you Thursday.”

“Yes, see you Thursday,” Claire replied, and with a gust of piercing cold that was there and gone, Amy left.

“Jamie…when are you going to—”

Claire was abruptly cut off by a mouth on hers, Jamie’s to be specific. She whimpered in shock, but then melted into him.

“Ye have no idea what that blush of yers does to me, mo ghraidh.”

This only deepened said blush, and he kissed random parts of her face, and it took her a moment to deduce that he was following the path of her blush, as it grew more blotchy and red by the minute. The longer he held her, the less often she found herself shivering, and she moaned in delight, stopping his kisses to bodily press herself against him.

“You’re so warm…” she mumbled, clinging to him. “I’m freezing.”

“Aye, so ye are.” He tenderly rubbed her arms, then took her hands in his, covering them completely. “This help?”

“God, yes…” she groaned.

“Careful of those wee noises, Sassenach,” Jamie warned, his eyes dancing with mirth. “I’ll no’ have much restraint left by the time ye’re warm enough to undress.”

She groaned again, this time in dread, shoving her face into his chest. “Can’t you just fuck me in my coat?”

He snorted into her hair, wrapping his arms fully around her, rocking gently. “Ah, Sassenach. I could make love to ye in anything, any time, anywhere.”

He kissed the crown of her head, and she shivered for an entirely different reason. “Thank you for the roses,” she murmured into his shirt. “They’re lovely. You really didn’t have to.”

“Of course I did,” he said, sounding almost offended. “That’s what a man does fer his lass on Valentine’s day.”

“And what about a lass for her lad?” Claire said.

“I got the Starbucks and chocolates at the stables,” he assured her. “Toni even heated up the coffee in the back room so it’d be ready when I got there.”

“That was good of her,” Claire said fondly. “Doesn’t feel like enough, though.” She pulled away enough to look into his eyes. “Nothing I could ever give you would ever be enough to show you how much I love you.”

“D’ye think a few dozen roses are enough to show how much I love you?” He shook his head, aghast. “I could fill this room, this apartment, the whole island, the whole world wi’ roses or anything else ye could ever want, and it would never come close.”

Claire’s self-deprecating pout morphed into a liquid smile, and she kissed him sweetly. She shook her head as she pulled away. “Nothing I could ever say would work, either.”

He chuckled. “Dinna fash, lass.” He kissed her again, harder, more urgent. “When I hold yer small, hot body in my arms, and ye look into my eyes, ye make that face while we make love…”

“What face?”

He hushed her. “…That’s more than enough for me to ken the truth of yer heart. Ye give me so much wi’ yer body, Sassenach. D’ye understand?”

Her breath caught in her throat as she exhaled with a tremble. “I understand.”

He kissed her one more time, then kissed her nose, then her forehead. “D’ye think a nice hot shower would warm ye up? Or d’ye just want to burrow into yer blankets?”

“No, that actually sounds like a lovely idea. As long as there are blankets awaiting me after.”

“Of course.”

“And as long as there’s a big, warm, human-furnace Scot awaiting me after.”

“Of course.”

“Although…you don’t have to wait until after.”

She gave his arse a smack, and he growled, swiping for her, but missing as she sidestepped him.

“Be a dear and start the water, won’t you? I want to put these in a vase.”

He shook his head, smirking darkly at her. “As ye wish, Milady.”

By the time Claire arranged the roses to her satisfaction and put them on a counter, far enough away from the edge that Faith couldn’t stretch and knock them over, the shower was steaming as she approached it. Jamie’s shirt was already off, and she fought the urge to lick her lips at the sight.

“You’re in luck, my lad,” Claire said. “You’re going to get me naked after all.”

He chuckled as he undid his fly. “How d’ye know that wasna my intention all along?”

“You brute!” she said, feigning an obnoxious damsel voice. “Baring my body for your own selfish needs rather than for my own comfort!”

He pulled his pants down, laughing heartily. “Ach, dinna fash. Your needs will be duly met, my Sassenach.”

Claire chuckled, heat gathering in her core. She sputtered then, realizing she was still in her bulky winter coat in the middle of the steaming bathroom. She made a mock-striptease of removing it, and Jamie shook his head, laughing. As each new area of skin was revealed, she broke out into gooseflesh, shivering violently.

“Come on, lass,” Jamie purred, now fully naked along with her. “Let’s get ye warm.”

The hot, nearly scalding water was a balm, and in a mere ten seconds, she’d stopped shivering. She sighed, leaning bodily against Jamie, not wanting to hold herself up, yet not willing to lean against the cold tile walls. She wrapped her arms around his torso as he slid his hands up and down her back, her arse, her shoulders, gliding smoothly in the water. When he took healthy handfuls of her arse with both hands, kneading and squeezing, pulling apart and pushing together, she could stand it no longer, and she stretched up to kiss him.

Oh, yes, she was quite warm now.

Tongues danced, teeth nipped, lips suckled, and Claire stroked Jamie’s hot, searing length until he begged her to stop before he spoiled the rest of the evening. Claire knew it was taking all of his control to not bend her over and have her right then, but he restrained himself, scrubbing her body gently and thoroughly, washing her hair and massaging her scalp with all the tender care in the world. She returned the favor, unable to resist a kiss here and there, as he’d been unable.

When they were satisfied with their cleanliness, the kissing resumed, and then Jamie was turning her around, kissing down her back, her arse, her thighs, getting onto his knees.

“Hold on, mo ghraidh.”

His breathy purr brushed against her, and she shivered, despite the chill in her bones having been long gone. She braced herself on the wall, not at all certain that she wouldn’t slip, and then he thoroughly devoured her, sending her reeling with his mouth alone. She came hoarsely, sharply, trying to curl her fingers into something but finding nothing but slippery tile. Jamie was on his feet in an instant, catching her around the waist, holding her up, cupping the tender spot he’d abandoned to stop her fall. She gratefully rode his hand, gyrating lazily, riding out what was left of her orgasm, her head thrown back into the crook of his neck.

He cupped her until the aftershocks ceased, and then his hands roamed up to squeeze her breasts, as if they were the only thing keeping him upright. He was hard as a rock against the small of her back, and Claire ground her arse against him, giggling when he groaned in misery.

“Come on, love,” she purred, shutting off the water. “I’m all warm now.”

Jamie stepped out and quickly dried himself off, stopping Claire before he was done.

“Let me.”

And, despite how painfully aroused he must have been, he tenderly patted down every inch of her, squeezed out her hair methodically, gently. He then wrapped her in a second, dry towel, something Claire never allowed herself to do, and he scooped her up in his arms, leaving the two wet towels on the bathroom floor, and carrying her, naked, to the bedroom. Claire locked the door for him after he shut it with his foot, and they giggled into a kiss as Jamie walked her onto the bed. He laid her down among rose petals that he’d likely scattered hours ago, and she shook her head at his thoughtfulness. She watched as he lit candles, resting her head on her hand and biting her lip to keep from laughing at the extravagance of it all. He flicked off the light when the candles were lit to his satisfaction, and then he turned back to her.

“Hurry back,” she whined, only partly joking. “I’m getting cold again.”

He wasted no time, closing the distance to the bed and rolling her onto her back, hovering over her.

“Canna have that.”

He unfolded her towel and kissed every inch of her pebbling skin, as if kissing away the goosebumps. He stayed for a while on her nipples, lapping at her there until she was panting and arching her hips into the air.

“Warm enough yet?” He smirked up at her from between her breasts, and she nodded desperately.

A man on a mission, Jamie tossed aside her towel and finally, finally straddled her, bracing himself on his elbows so their mouths were inches apart.

“God…” he groaned, kissing her one more time as his tip teased her entrance. “I’m the happiest man alive.”

“I love you…” Claire murmured, and then with one snap of his hips he was fully sheathed within her, as if the words propelled him forward against his will.

He tried to take his time, Claire could tell, but it didn’t take long for him to take up a maddening pace, slamming into her, and then rubbing rough circles on her clit so she could follow him into oblivion. She did, losing her grip on reality so thoroughly that she did not know where she ended and he began, did not know whose cries she was hearing.

She quite literally didn’t open her eyes again, physically unable after her long day and the activities she’d just finished. So Jamie tucked her in under the excessive amount of blankets she kept on the bed in winter, and she drifted off to the sound of him blowing out candles, only fully surrendering to sleep when he was once again at her side, tucking her into him like she belonged there, like an extra limb, an extension of himself.

My Valentine.

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sgtjbbhasmyheart · 4 years ago

Text

Drunk Texting Is(n’t) Bad for Your Health- Chapter Two

Series Summary: Talk about your unconventional meet-cute! Bucky receives a text by mistake requesting he prove he's not Reader's sister. The easy dialogue between Reader and Bucky sparks a natural friendship, but could it lead to more? Bucky still deems himself unworthy of any form of affection or love. Reader is hellbent to prove him wrong. With the help of some (meddling) friends along the way, Bucky may get his happily-ever-after after all.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word count: 2921

Warnings: bad language words, blink and you’ll miss the angst, just some fluff

A/N: divider credit- @firefly-graphics

DO NOT copy or replicate without my permission

You awoke with a start, feeling as if you were late for work or something important and forgot to set your alarm. Your heart beat an erratic tattoo against your ribcage. Scrambling for your cell phone, you blindly reached across the side table near your bed in a panic. Unplugging the phone, you brought the device an ungodly closeness to your face. It was only 6:17. On Saturday.

Your pulse throbbed behind your eyeballs, and a strange stickiness coated the inside of your mouth. Did you drink that much last night?

How could you not? Timmons was a fair boss, and you enjoyed your job, but that dude loved the sound of his own voice.

The quarterly business dinners were mandatory for all employees, even for the P.A.s. Typically, they weren’t so bad, but last night, Timmons felt the need to toot his own horn for landing a massive contract with Stark Industries slash The Avengers. He went on and on about how great it was for the firm.

He was like a giant kid in a candy store with his ramblings. ‘We will be promoting the face of The Avengers and everything that goes with it,’ he spouted off like the firm was god’s gift to public relations.

You groaned at the reminder of last night’s presentation. The contract wasn’t even in effect yet, and you were sick of the Earth’s Mightiest Heroes. Timmons could be a real buzz kill.

Rolling to your back, you brought your phone up to tap the screen to read the emails you received overnight. On display was a text from 11:04 by someone named James. It read: “Goodnight, (Y/N).”

Your mind went back to last night again, trying to recall who this James was. He must be significant if you plugged his contact information into your phone already. Had you met someone last night?

Drawing a blank, you clicked on the text bubble to pull up the thread. Briefly scanning through the numerous texts, everything came rushing back. In an attempt to text your sister, Robyn, you mistakenly texted this mysterious, James.

You felt like an utter buffoon when you learned he wasn’t Robyn. You always did have a way with the cute boys. Probably why you were single. You groaned out loud as you read on.

You im safely inside my apartment. Pretty sure no one followed me home

James Did you triple check the lock on the front door?

You yes dad yeesh

James There are a lot of bad people out there. Just want to make sure you’re safe.

You sounds like you watch the news too much but its sweet of u to care

James I know from experience.

You r u the bad guy or have u been the one mugged?

James Let’s just say I have friends that have dealt with the bad things of the world.

You right i almost forgot ur a military-trained assassin athlete mchottie

James Did you ever send your sister a text?

You shit thanks for reminding me i have such a crazy story to tell her

James Only good things, I hope.

You oh yeah all the good things an enigmatic yet handsome stranger cares more about my safety than any of my ex-boyfriends ever did.

James My ma raised me right.

You id say

James_ I hate to cut this short, but I think you need your rest. Especially if you’re meeting your sister tomorrow._

You i dont want to agree but ur probably right

You whats ur name btw?

James My name? Why? Do you plan to continue texting me after tonight?

You duh ur fun to talk to

James Oh.

You or not its cool if u dont want to

James It’s James.

You nice to meet u james im (y/n)

James Nice to meet you as well.

You my sister just texted me back and were still meeting at 9 i should go

You goodnite james

James Goodnight, (Y/N).

Oh. My. God. Had you seriously drunk-flirted with a stranger and offered to keep texting him? You had no shame with a few drinks in you.

You brought a hand up to pinch the bridge of your nose and sighed loudly.

What did you know of this James? He had a New York area phone number. Check. He could have been a real dick about your mistake but wasn’t. Understanding. Check. He worried about you getting home safely in your inebriated state. Caring. Check. Not too forthcoming with the nine to five. Secretive. Check. His mouth looked so soft and plush, and his eyes were made to drown in. Gorgeous. Check.

A heat simmered beneath your skin as you recounted the shortlist you’d made. Were you lusting over someone you’d exchanged less than forty texts with? Had you somehow woken back up in high school?

Shaking your head to clear your thoughts, you stared at the screen displaying the message thread. Were you really considering this? You nodded your head to answer your own question. Where was the harm in a little shameless flirting? If worse came to worst, you could always block him.

With your mind made up, you began typing into your phone, constructing an apology.

You Good morning! First off, I want to apologize for the way I behaved over text last night.

You Though, I do like to imbibe in the occasional drink or two, I am, by no means, a lush.

You Please take everything I said with a grain of salt. Apparently, I get loose-lipped and cheeky with free wine. 😐

You Again, I’m sorry and understand if you wanted to cease our correspondence for my behavior.

You blew out a breath and tossed your phone aside. It was up to fate now and a stranger named James.

You laid in your bed for several minutes staring at the ceiling, contemplating between whether to send a ‘haha just kidding’ text and what the weather would be like, so you could forego shaving your legs in the shower today.

Your phone chimed during the pondering of hair removal, indicating a new text. You knew it was James proclaiming you a freak and to forget his number, but secretly, you hoped it was Robyn canceling today.

Seizing the phone from your mattress top, your heart’s beat increased with each second you went without looking at the screen. Finding the courage, you flipped the device over to read the message.

James Quite the formal apology, Ms. Professor.

You smiled at the text. It didn’t tell you to pound sand or eat shit. No, it was teasing and in jest. You sighed in relief.

You Cease our correspondence too much?

James No, no it was perfect if this was 1863, and you were breaking up with me via telegraph.

You Stop!

James Exactly! ‘Never speak to me again!’ Stop. ‘It’s not you, it’s me.’ Stop.

A belly laugh disrupted the tranquil air of your bedroom. You quickly thumbed out a reply once you caught your breath.

You You’re incorrigible.

James I’m glad to see you are using proper capitalization and punctuation this morning.

You Ha!

You When you are buzzed and/or tipsy, capitals and periods be damned. Like you’re so perfect when you’re drunk.

James We all have our flaws.

Was he implying he was a sloppy texter when drunk, too? You shrugged it off as him being cryptic again.

You What are you doing up so early on a Saturday? I didn’t wake you, did I?

You were suddenly stricken with guilt. You should have waited for a more reasonable hour to send out rapid-fire apology texts. Not at 6:36 in the morning. You didn’t want last night’s behavior hanging over you, though. Better to clear the air now than later. You could always ask for forgiveness again if you had disturbed his sleep.

James I had just gotten back from my run when I saw your texts. I have training this morning.

You Oh, right. For your hush-hush, super top secret mission/quidditch game.

You You ever gonna tell me what you really do?

James_ Maybe. Someday._

How far away was someday? Was he planning to text you until you both died or until he got bored? How did texting relationships even work?

You Or is it one of those situations where if you told me you’d have to kill me?

James 😈

You There you go again--being all mysterious.

James Keep ‘em guessing and coming back for more.

You Has that strategy worked well for you in the past?

James Got you to text me again this morning, didn’t it?

You scoffed at what he had suggested. He was correct, but your stubborn streak would deny everything.

You The only reason I texted you this morning was to apologize for acting like a drunken fool last night.

And to squash the curiosity burning in your veins. But he didn’t need to know that.

James Oh.

The reply caused you to furrow your brow and your stomach to drop. You regretted not adding more levity to your last text. Of course, it wasn’t the only reason you were drawn to him.

You I appreciate that the selfie you sent wasn’t a dick pic. And you genuinely seemed to care about me getting home safely. Thank you.

You And maybe- a teeny, tiny bit- is honestly interested in getting to know you better.

You waited on pins and needles for his text, watching the pulsing ellipsis on your screen. Was he just humoring you?

James Hook. Line. Sinker.

Reading his response generated a flush from your jaw to your hairline. You growled in embarrassment. You fell for the oldest trick in the book. He baited you for a compassionate answer, and you delivered beautifully. Hook, line, and sinker, indeed.

You You’re an ass. I take everything back.

James Don’t be mad. I wasn’t sure how it was going to go, but you played into my trap wonderfully.

James If it makes you feel any better, all kidding aside, I want to get to know you better too.

James I fell asleep with a smile on my face last night and woke up with one this morning.

James Because of you, (Y/N).

A flutter broke apart in your chest. You hadn’t time-traveled back to high school; no, this was junior high territory.

You You’re lucky you’re so damn charming, James.

James Doll, you have no idea.

The subway ride into Manhattan usually gave you the chance to get a little reading in since it took nearly fifty minutes from Queens. Not today, though. You spent the entirety of the train ride texting back and forth with James. It was mundane stuff, but you were getting a grasp of who James was as a person.

You Favorite color?

James Black. You?

You Blue.

You Favorite ice cream flavor?

James Chocolate. Yours?

You Ben & Jerry’s Cherry Garcia.

James I didn’t realize we were getting specific.

You We weren’t, but that’s my favorite.

You Favorite movie?

James I like the classics- The Wizard of Oz, It’s A Wonderful Life, Frankenstein.

You I have too many to list, so don’t ask.

You Okay. Lightning round because I’m almost to my stop.

James Where are you going again?

You paused your reply for a brief second, wondering if you should divulge your destination. You’d known James less than twenty-four hours; although, it felt like weeks after this morning. Where was the harm in telling him where you were meeting your sister? There were nearly nine million people in this city. There was no way you’d ever bump into each other.

You A bakery in the Upper East Side called Two Little Red Hens. Ever been?

James Don’t think I have.

You Well, since you like chocolate, they have a fantastic cake called Brooklyn Blackout. Super rich but delicious.

James Sounds right up my alley.

You Cats or dogs?

James I’m gone too much, so cats.

The answer piqued your interest. Maybe he was an athlete. Wouldn’t it be practice and not training, though? Or he’s FBI or CIA.

You Socks on or off for sleeping?

James Off.

You Silver or gold?

James Silver.

You Morning, noon, or night?

James Night.

You How do you take your coffee?

James Room for sugar and creamer.

You Boxers or briefs?

James Boxer briefs.

You laughed out loud, looking around the subway car to see if anyone was paying attention to you. Per usual, they weren’t.

You Touché.

As soon as the train stopped, you gathered your purse close to your body and made for the exit. You followed the crowd of fellow passengers through the turnstile and ascended the stairs onto street level.

The morning sunlight caressed your skin like a warm blanket. The humidity wasn’t too bad, yet, but the threat of afternoon thunderstorms still hung in the air.

Even with the reasonably early hour, the sidewalk was stuffed with people, carrying to-go coffee cups or shopping bags. You fought for your little spot of real estate on the grimy concrete.

Stopping at a red traffic light, waiting to cross, you typed out another question for James.

You Pineapple on pizza--yay or nay?

The light changed as you finished, and the throng of pedestrians around you guided you across the street. You spotted Robyn outside the bakery as your phone dinged with a new text alert.

“Wow, I’m surprised you made it on time,” Robyn said as you hugged hello.

You looked at the clock on your phone. 8:58. “You and me both, sister.” Glancing back at your phone’s screen, you giggled.

James What kind of monster puts pineapple on their pizza??

“What’s so funny?” Robyn asked as you accompanied her through the bakery’s door.

With a grin on your face, you punched out a quick reply:

You Well, it was nice knowing you, James. It was a swell friendship while it lasted--a whole 11 ½ hours.

Robyn elbowed you softly in the ribs with a look on her face, seeking an explanation.

“Ow,” you grunted. “What?”

“You tell me. I half expected a zombie to walk through the doors today after your text last night. Not Suzie Sunshine.”

You both edged closer to the counter as the line in front of you dwindled.

James Say it ain’t so, doll! Pineapple on pizza? Really??

You let out a low chortle as you skimmed the text. You glimpsed up at Robyn as you shuffled forward in line again. “Believe me, I’m pretty hungover,” you replied, shoving your phone in your back pocket. “It’s a funny story. I’ll tell you everything when we sit.”

Robyn stared at you warily, still trying to figure out what had come over you. “Okay,” she conceded, stepping to the register to order.

With each of you supplied with an iced coffee and a peach ginger scone, you found an empty table by a window along 2nd Avenue and proceeded to tell Robyn about James.

When you stopped to catch your breath, remembering the whirlwind the last twelve hours had been, you peered at your sister for her reaction.

She stared at you like you’d grown a second head. She shook her head in disbelief. “(Y/N), what where you thinking?”

Your brow pinched in confusion. Was she actually scolding you? You crossed your arms over your chest. “I was thinking about how my big sister is always telling me to meet new people and how it’s time I thought about settling down.”

“Not like this it’s not,” she hissed. “This is how your body parts end up in someone’s freezer!”

You choked on the piece of scone you shoved in your mouth before she started ridiculing you. After coughing to clear your airway and taking a sip of your iced coffee, you leered at Robyn. “Oh, my god! Dramatic much? Have you been binge-watching Dateline again? Jesus Christ, Robyn, he’s harmless,” you countered.

“You think you’ll be so careful, but you’ll let one little detail slip, and he’ll find you,” Robyn said before taking a pull from her coffee.

“You mean, like, how I was meeting you at Two Little Red Hens at nine o’clock?”

Robyn’s mouth popped open in an O. “What the hell, (Y/N)?” she stage-whispered. “Are you trying to get yourself kidnapped and sold into sex trafficking?”

“Please,” you drew out in one long syllable. “He doesn’t know what I look like. How would he snatch me?”

“He could look you up on Facebook.”

“Without a last name?” You shook your head, no.

“What about a reverse search on your number?” Robyn asked, pushing the plate holding her scone away. “That’s a thing.”

“Perhaps, but it seems like a lot of effort for a mistake I made. It wasn’t like he was seeking me or anyone else out.”

Robyn huffed out a breath and folded her arms in exasperation. Always the protective big sister. You could tell you were breaking her down, though.

“C’ mon, Robbie. It’s all in innocent fun. I’m not saying I’m hoping he’ll turn out to be Mr. Right, but the banter is fun,” you remarked. “James is charming and witty and nice to talk to.”

Robyn shook her head once more, frowning. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

You reached across the table for her hand and squeezed gently. “Me too.” You smiled slyly, remembering last night’s dinner and Timmons gushing about The Avengers. “If not, I know how to get ahold of a couple of centenarians who know chivalry isn’t dead.”

Chapter One | Chapter Three

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heart-strong · 4 years ago

Text

Are you Miserable?

Summary: Spencers out of jail, Scratch has been caught and Aaron and Jack are back. Spencer's boys are back, so when Penelope offers to take Jack for the night they cannot resist, but the night does not go as anticipated.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x enby Spencer Reid , hurt/ comfort

CW/TW: Sexual Assult, Childhood Sexual Assult (mentioned) prison arc (mentioned), Aaron in witsec (mentioned), intrusive thoughts flashbacks

WC: 2.3k

———

Spencer Reid was in love desperately and since they got out of prison their next goal to get their boys back. Aaron and Jack were now seconds away from them.

“They haven't arrived yet genius?" Penelope scurries through the double doors with JJ and Dave in tow.

"Em went down without me, she said they wouldn't get up here if I went down there." they bounced on the balls of their feet.

"I agree with Emily," Dave added.

With that, the elevator dings, and the three people are reviled to the team. Aaron and Jack Hotchner’s smiles matching inch for inch. Suddenly Jack is throwing his full weight into Spencer’s arms. Aaron's then squishing the boy to their chest and is kissing Spencer’s mouth in front of everyone on the level six FBI floor.

"How have you gotten hotter?" Aaron whispered.

"Prison roughed me up, babe. "Spencer answers, squatting down to talk to Jack. "What do you think, have I changed too much Jackie?"

"I think you look tough like daddy, Spencie. I'm glad we're back though daddy’s been miserable."

"Jack you weren't supposed to tell them that.” Emily giggles at the young boy.

"Sorry, dad. "Jack blushes.

"Okay, I need hugs." Penelope runs up. "I missed you boys." she scoops Jack up." Now, Jackie, you and I are going to have a sleepover. We can’t have daddy and Spence miserable for any longer."

"That sounds so fun!" Jack hugs Penelope tight as Aaron hugs Dave hello. Falling quickly back to the rhythm of the BAU and rejoining the team before he and Spencer head to dinner for the first time in a year.

---

"Ahhh Aaron," Spencer moans in complete pleasure and basking in the presence of Aaron on top of them.

"God, fuck Spence-," Aaron moans into Spencer’s neck while the pair’s legs are intertwined and Aaron works on his partner’s shirt, kissing lower to make a new hickey on Spencer’s pale collar bones. "My Pretty Spencer.” he punctuates with a bite.

While feeling Aaron once again in such a needy way after him being gone for so long, Spencer can't help being overwhelmed. 'I'm just out of practice’ Spencer thinks as they card their hands through Aaron’s hair.

"Mmm Ar, your hairs so long with a year of me not pulling on it." they laugh opening their eyes and looks to the ceiling.

"I hate it, love." Aaron breaths.

Spencer smiles at the comment but knows it won't happen tonight. They hold to the man on top of them because maybe finally having him back in Spencer’s arms it will make the inmate’s words they yelled at them lessen. From the nightmares and intrusive thoughts that Spencer has dealt with since the early days in the prison. But now they’re thinking about it and Aaron's hands are not Aaron’s hands. Aaron’s body is not Aaron’s body. And more of the air leaves Spencer’s lungs. The hips lips legs begin to envelop their body as they gasp for anything. 'But Aarons home, he needs this'.

"God fuck," Aaron wines rolling his body above them. "You are so lovely. I missed you, Spence." His hands force Spencers shirt to move up their chest.

‘This is Aaron, this is my boyfriend.’ they repeat in their mind. ‘The men are still in prison, I am here with Aaron.’ But as Aaron’s other hand is going for his belt. The jumpsuit buttons and they can feel of the stiff mattress as it floods back to them when Milo, no Aaron, unbuckles their belt.

"No," Spencer stiffens and Aaron is off their body, at the other end of the couch in the blink of the eye.

"Baby?" Aaron asks.

Spencer gasps as their chest feels the calloused fingers of Milos on their body. And as they look up to Aaron’s face, 'he'll still love you, you've watched him for years supporting victims.' they think.

"Spencer, Spence can you breath a bit better?" Aaron asks. “Darling in through your nose, out through your mouth baby."

Spencer listens to Aaron and scratches the tears off their faces. When did they start crying? After they start breathing better Aaron goes to the kitchen and gets glasses of water. Spencer accepts it and drinks the entire glass before they look back at their boyfriend.

"Spencer do you want to talk about this now?"

"I was sexually assaulted again, in prison."

"Okay first I love you and this doesn't change that, second may I hug you, you can say no if you don't want me to." Aaron is standing hesitant.

"No, I mean, yes you can. Please Aaron, can you hold me?"Aaron sits down next to Spencer placing his glass next to the empty one and envelope Spencer’s shoulders for a few seconds and then leans back continuing. "Just like before, when you told me about your father, I do not care darling. Now I do care because you should not have had to experience that, I wish I could get your father in jail Spencer."

"Aaron don't you don't,"

"No Spencer Reid, your father touched you when you were five. You knew Jack at five imagine someone touching Jack then, that anger you feel is the same I would feel and do feel. I think about killing him."

"Aaron, you can't say that," Spencer says.

"Why not? I do, if I had known at the time and met your father, I would have killed him during the Riley Jenkins case, I would have stayed."

"Aaron, it not that I don't appreciate the thought, because I do. I really do, you cannot imagine 5-year-old me realizing that what William was doing to me was abusive and not what fathers did to their children how used and unloveable I thought I was,"

"Spencer Diana Reid, you are so very loved." They both smiled at the name. Six months after the two got together Aaron and Jack accompanied Spencer to the courthouse to change their middle name. Spencer had told the team and their boyfriend about their father, then all the hospital visits happened. And every time Spencer had to say 'Spencer William Reid’ they had to hold down bile. Aaron caught onto their discomfort and brought up the idea of changing their name.

"I know that now, but I have you and Jack and the team and Henry and Michael. Aaron, I do not feel loveless now. But, god, okay I have my boys back, and I could not let you not know that it happened again."

"And I assume the guards did nothing."

"The guards did shit, believe it or not, Calvin Shaw found me and brought me to the infirmary."

"Spencer, baby I'm so fucking sorry.” Aaron grabbed their hand and Spencer could feel his shaking. “I do have to ask, have you gotten checked?"

"Aaron,” Spencer scoffed. “Do you think I would have been rolling around with you for the last hour if I hadn't or it came out positive!? No, I would have told you immediately."

"Spencer I had to fucking ask." This is not what Aaron wanted. He honestly wanted, when the elevators opened and he laid eyes on 'roughed up' Spencer, to take the love of his life to the bathroom and ravish them. But then Spencer seemed to be a melancholy aura. And then less than 30 minutes ago they stiffened like the dead bodies they see with the job. "Baby, can we step back please."

"Yes sorry I just, Aaron I wouldn't risk your health babe, sorry I got angry there, I just want your body." Spencer blushes. "I thought, it’s you, and I've been abused and scared almost every year since joining the bureau. Like I should be fine, but that's not how this," they point to their brain, "Works."

"Spencer you do not have to justify yourself to me. How about I make some popcorn, get some tea, you get some jammies on. I will too and we just watch a movie."

"That would be very nice." Spencer grabs Aarons’s thighs and kisses their boyfriend. "I missed you and your use of 'jammies' is beyond adorable.”

"Spencer, have I introduced you to my son Jack Hotchner he's 13?” They both laugh and Aaron kisses Spencer back, carding his hand through their unruly curls.

"Mmm hum, "Spencer hums from the feeling "Touche handsome. I'll be back."

After Spencer leaves Aaron goes to the kitchen preparing the hot water and snacks, knowing how to navigate Spencer’s apartment after years of movie nights with his partner. Some time passes, he has dumped the popcorn in a bowl and two cups of tea are steeping when he hears bare feet padding into the kitchen.

"You still like peppermint and apple mixed? I saw you had them and made it without asking."

"Do you know who you're talking to, yes, may I hug you?"

"Please." before he has the chance Spencer presses their body to his back and nuzzles their nose to Aaron’s hairline. After years after real-life jump scars, the pair did not hug from behind without permission. Spencer’s slender arms wrap around Aaron’s middle.

"Did you pick out something to watch baby?"

"There's a documentary about Polar Bears that looks nice," Spencer says.

"Sounds good, "Aaron rubs Spencer’s arm as they tighten their grip." Do you want to bring these to the coffee table and I'll go change?"

"Sure babe, I missed you so much," Spencer says as he started kissing Aaron’s back.

Aaron turns in Spencer’s arms and finds them in an FBI Acadamy t-shirt too big and too worn out for it to be Spencer's. His FBI shirt.

"Did you miss me or my clothes baby?" Aaron laughs as his partner.

"Your clothes that smell like you.” Spencer blushes. “You see, I have some of your clothes but,"

"They don’t smell like me anymore?" Aaron nods as Spencer’s fluffy hair robs his neck. "If I just hold you you don't have to wear my clothes and I never plan on letting you go."

"Aaron Hotchner you are going to spoil me to death."

"No I will spoil you till the day you die, that's different." Aaron brushed Spencer’s curls out of their eyes. "I'm going to go change baby."

While Aaron is changing Spencer turns on Netflix and pulls up the documentary and bundling up in a blanket. Aaron joins them letting Spencer curl to his body as if the two were magnets to the other. This is what Aaron needed when he saw Spencer, his partner at his side and warm on his body. Over the years after the two got together Spencer would fold to Aaron’s body and sometimes Jack would sit in between them. While the loss of Hailey was painful for everyone on the team, Aaron was happy with Spencer and it made it easier to love them when Jack was also with the two, having fun and calling Spencer ‘Spencie’. Jack would explain to his teachers that ‘My Spencie is picking me up today’ and while it was confusing at first they quickly came to realize that Jack’s father’s partner was nonbinary. And Aaron of course did not care, just about having Spencer at his side and being able to love them.

Spencer ends up falling asleep, their fist clutching Aaron’s shirt and it has been years since Aaron could carry Spencer to bed. So he runs his hand through the beautiful curls atop their head and stops once Spencer's eyes flutter open.

"Hey," Spencer rubs their eyes." Did I fall asleep?"

"Yes, baby. You are so pretty you know, my pretty Spencer." Aaron smiles down at the crinkles in Spencer's cheeks.

"And you, my darling boyfriend, are comfortable."

"Okay my pretty one, brush teeth and bed."

"Aaron you know I am your partner, not your son?"

"Give me a break, the past year I have mostly only hung out with my son."

- - -

Aaron exits the restroom and finds Spencer with a book and their glasses on. "Hey Spencer before we go to bed can we chat?"

"Yes of course, but also I am quite sleepy you know."

"yes, I'll be quick," Aaron laughs and sits at Spencer’s feet. "I know we started that conversation and I feel like we dropped it quickly."

"Babe, you don't need to," Spencer sits up grabbing Aaron’s hands.

"Spence, for my brain I do need to, so can I?"

"Of course Aaron go ahead.” Spencer closes his book. "Can I snug while?"

"Come here baby," Aaron reaches out for them, and Spencer crawls into his lap and wraps their legs around Aaron’s hips. "Okay seriously though, you are my everything and your father did not deserve having you. And I hate thinking about if he had stayed. I love you so much and the shit that happened to you in there doesn't change a thing."

"Thank you for saying that babe." Spencer blushed. "I can't imagine not having my boys back."

"I'm very glad having you back too, I really was fucking miserable."

"Are you miserable now?"

"No."

"Then can we snuggle for the rest of our lives?"

"That sounds fantastic baby.”

Spencer kisses Aaron with a nod." I will say Ar, I want Jack back and I want us to move in together, we've been together for years and I love Jack. Jack loves me. Not to toot my own horn, but like I get to love and receive love from the Hotchner boys."

"Spencer Reid, you fucking beat me to the question.” Aaron fakes disappointed hitting his forehead on Spencer’s shoulder. “Jack asked if we could move in when we came back. But I think it’s a bit too late to go get him tonight though. So for now, snuggles?"

"I like snuggles!"

Spencer pulls Aaron on top of them and catches his mouth. Aaron Hotchner was the person or man for them. Aaron thought the same for Spencer, Spencer loved his kid and his kid was the person Aaron loved them most in his life. The pair fell asleep intertwined in the sheets. And when the sun rose the first thing out of Aaron’s mouth was, "Hey my pretty Spencer, do you want to go get our boy?"

"Our boy? God, I love the sound of that, yes."

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psalloacappella · 3 years ago

Text

SSM21 Day 2. Festival

Pairing: SasuSaku Prompt: Festival Title: sparks will fly, they ignite our bones Tags: AU - Modern Setting; First Dates; Wooing Lips burning against his, mouthing soft words in the detonation din.

(In which Sakura has the better aim.)

Ao3 | twt | full series link | @ssskmonth

“It’sa real date this time.” Each word’s punctuated by Naruto’s fist punching his opposite palm, driving home the importance of this. This being: Street stall smells rich and piquant, a smoky-savory blend; lights flickering in kaleidoscopic, neurotic brilliance; children wild as free foals escaping their parents, weaving in and out of adults’ legs clutching cheap prizes and sparklers —

and him, Sasuke, on an actual fucking date with a woman with cotton-candy-colored locks who has been besting him every game and measure of skill imaginable, and his dumb plus-one buffer, the best friend, now droning on about how he needs to win her something.

“Anything!” Naruto throws his arms up, dramatic and exasperated, the only gearsetting he seems to have. “Teddy bear, ugly fish, keychain — literally any shitty prize to show her yer not a complete waste of time.”

“Sasuke!” Both men snap to, pretending to have been watching the whole time as Sakura jumps up and down, pumping a fist in the air. “I won again!”

With shiny, wide eyes, she places both her palms out in giddy anticipation to receive a stuffed bear donning a baseball cap of the local (terrible) team from a surly booth operator with a permanent frown.

“She’s comin’ this way!”

“I can see that,” Sasuke hisses. “You useless idiot.”

“Did I hear ‘charming wingman?’ ‘Kay, I’m gonna find some food. Give you two some time—”

“Don’t say it—”

“Alone.” Some strange tone aiming for sensual manifests as choking pigeon, and Naruto skips away as Sakura bounds up to Sasuke, smiling so wide he can see every perfect tooth.

“Did you see?” So proud of herself, arms laden with prizes. Some she’s already given away to cute children passing by, perhaps the sole supplier of noisemakers and soft bears. For a doctor in pediatrics, the urge to make smiles comes second nature. “Where’s he going?”

“Food, or something,” Sasuke murmurs, trying not to look as constipated and irritated as he had ten minutes prior — another gem from Naruto’s unasked-for criticism. “He’s left us alone.”

“Finally.” Definitely slipped out by accident, and Sakura grumbles over her mistake, red prickling her cheeks and chest. “Not that I dislike him, of course—”

“I do,” Sasuke says, absolutely deadpan. It takes her a moment.

“Uchiha Sasuke, did you just make your first joke?”

Ears burning in the cool night air, it’s his turn to smother his embarrassment. In lieu of further slip ups, he awkwardly gathers the items in her arms, a mishmash of unidentified thingamajigs and whatnots that you only find in curio shops or carnivals, and gallantly takes on their burden.

“Walk with me?”

So sure his voicebox just sustained a hairline crack; he hates himself for being nervous.

Eyes, hers, brighter than all the psychedelic frenzy swirling around them both, caught up in the haze; she has the uncanny ability to fade the rest to black, toss the entirety of the world’s existence aside.

Seeking to link her arm with his amid the mess of wares won, she succeeds and presses closer.

“I thought I’d die waiting,” she whispers into his sleeve. “I’ve been wanting you to notice me properly all night.”

Meandering, conjoined, down the main road; carved out for the celebration, buffeted by snack scents and other couples, groups of friends, and plenty of pairs pretending they’re still just and only that. Along the way she unloads her many winnings, surreptitious, in part kindly trying to relieve his burden but also calculating the space in her single occupancy apartment.

She watches people and lights, and he watches her.

Sakura’s gaze snags on a particular booth, more specifically a particular prize. Of the stuffed variety.

“Did . . . something catch your eye?” he asks. Immediately thinks he sounds like an idiot. You know how to woo ‘em, and why does his inner voice sound like Naruto’s on this date, goddamn it —

Burying her cheek into his shoulder, she giggles and it threads beautiful, stringed tension in his throat and spine, symphonic, testing its own flex to see if she can orchestrate the rest of him. He wishes he could spin her around, lift her high in some filmesque climax, kiss her in the closing credits.

“Don’t laugh,” she says, “but I love slugs. Adore them, really. Gross, I know!” She raises her free hand and points directly at a giant stuffed slug on a high shelf behind the booth’s counter. “And honestly, I’d likely keep it in my office; the kids would love it.”

Sasuke knows, from what she’s disclosed, that these are sick kids, too. This ancient, gendered mating ritual is unavoidable and he’ll have to rise to the challenge. He must provide. Stupid, because she outstrips his earnings and likely will the rest of their life.

Says it like a throwaway, like no big deal: “I’ll have to win it for you, then.”

The game? Aim. Darts. Doable if he’s sober and with equally (un)talented friends; ranging from Shino the sharpshooter to drunk and stumbling Suigetsu, he’s decidedly somewhere in the middle, but it should be enough raw talent to beat a festival game.

Sakura’s eyes are on him, excited. She dances a little from foot to foot, ready to cheer him on.

Dropping the rest of the prizes on the ground and shoving a fistful of coins at the booth operator, he smirks. Born ready, all those forced childhood sports camps and instrument lessons finessing his hand-eye coordination finally stepping up to the plate.

Imagine failing miserably three rounds in a row, the last one bouncing off the dartboard so violently it narrowly misses the sleepy booth operator. Sasuke grinds his teeth, jaw tight, wishing it’d met its mark.

To Sakura’s credit, she’s completely unperturbed. Almost makes it worse.

She pecks him on the cheek, scoring him through hot and fevered where her lips touch.

“Performance anxiety,” she quips, but her smile isn’t unkind. “Let me give it a try.”

Each dart that lands in the board does so with gusto, embeds itself deep into the sisal cork. As each one hits, Sasuke reflects they might as well be piercing him. The most painful blow is watching her indicate the bluebacked slug, winning it outright without his help, and squeezing it half to death in her arms.

They’re walking again, sans the rest of her prizes — left them for the booth operator, and whatever kids wander his way wanting toys with which to annoy their parents.

“You’ve been so quiet,” she says, shifting her slug under one arm and linking up with him again. Sasuke shrugs against her. “I’m not sure what’s next with us.”

He stops, figures it’s better to rip that bandaid off now, give her an out so he can save some face. Of course they’ve stopped on some coquettishly romantic bridge, arched over the still summer pond, a popular viewing spot for the night’s end fireworks.

She watches him expectantly, searching him with her sharp green eyes.

“What do you mean?” Her question is slow, puzzled.

What he means to say is something gentile. Instead he says, “You’re great at darts.”

She seems to sway, a physical manifestation of being caught off guard. Laughs. “Surprised me too! But you gave my arms a rest, so they were ready to win.” Curls her arm to indicate muscle, grinning.

Steps closer, melting through an unseen veil of personal space. Cherry scent; smoke.

“Could be all the shots you administer.”

“I guess we can call jabbing kids with needles a calling.” Mirroring him, she steps in too, and there’s not so much space between them anymore. “Good practice. You could come around sometime, see my work.”

Another tiny shuffle.

It’s time to break this. Sasuke inhales deeply, letting it out in measured beats. “Sakura—”

“If you’re mad you couldn’t win this for me,” she interrupts, “you’re being silly. I don’t care about that, you know.”

He tilts his head, and in spite of himself his hand wanders, brushing a stray strand of pink out of her face. “Hm?”

“I don’t,” she repeats, and sets her slug down on the wooden bridge. Breathes deeply before saying in a low, threaded voice, “What I care about is all the waiting.”

Sasuke feels it all fall into place. Oh. Oh.

“So come on, Sasuke.”

And before she’s even finished saying his name he’s kissing her, the last vibrations of his name caught on their lips, locked, and though the timing is perfect and picturesque, film archetype material as the fireworks charge the air around them, each one set off drawing ripple designs in the water beneath them, this thrill is unmatched, the way she wraps her arm around his neck to taste him deeper, the way he lifts her up to rest him on his hips and there’s nothing, has never been anything, quite like this.

Real fireworks pale in comparison.

Lips burning against his, mouthing soft words in the detonation din.

“The perfect end,” she whispers, “to a festival.”

#SSM21 #sasusaku #psalloacappella:SSM21

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sylvie-writes · 4 years ago

Note

here’s what i’m thinking. it’s the 1940’s. y/n is on her first date w the lovely steve rogers. it’s lots of shy giggly fluff. syd, my fabulous companion, can you write something along the lines of this and i’ll swim across the atlantic to shower you and mags in kisses. love u xx

First Date Jitters

“Becs, what if he doesn’t like me. What if I annoy him?”

Bothered, you laid your arms on the vanity and groaned, annoyed by the mere thought of ruining this first date. Steve Rogers seemed like a dreamboat and the minute he asked you out on a date, your eyes formed hearts and you were floating on cloud nine.

“Honey, he asked you out on a date, didn’t he?

“Yeah, but y’all pushed him! Maybe he felt pity for me and-”

Tired of your rambling, Rebecca ran the brush through your hair a bit too harsh for your liking.

“Geez! What was that for, Barnes?”

She smirked and went back to brushing your hair, returning to gentle strokes from before.

“To shut ya mouth full of lies.” Her strong New York accent came through and you giggled. When Rebecca spoke with a said accent, she meant business and was going to get her point through regardless if you listened or not.

Eventually, you zipped your mouth, letting Becca work her magic with your hair and makeup. As she did so, your mind drifted off to the first time you had met Steve.

“Pleaseeeeee, Bucky’s bringing a friend for dinner. Don’t leave me in a room full of testosterone.”

Becca was down on her knees, clasping the hem of your dress. Currently, you were standing in the middle of a busy sidewalk, people passing and shooting funny glares. Embarrassed, you pulled at her arms, but to no avail, she wouldn't budge from her spot on the cement.

“Rebecca Barnes, get off the ground! You look like a fool!”

“Not till you say, yes. You know how many dinners you’ve turned down?”

Groaning, you agreed to go just this once. The last time you went to dinner, you made a complete fool of yourself, even though Rebecca said otherwise. Bucky’s naturally flirtatious nature and secretive winks made you read into the situation a bit too much. From then on you vowed to never show up at a dinner of theirs. You’d known Rebecca for almost five years, yet you still couldn’t forgive yourself for that first night.

“You know why I always refuse, Becca.”

She linked her arm in yours, now off the ground and ready to walk around town some more.

“I know, but Bucky does that to every friend I’ve brought home. Don’t worry, the other girls did way worse than you. In the end, Bucky just likes to hook, line, and sink em kind of thing.”

Rebecca laughed, punctuating her sentence, and at her words of assurance, you felt a bit relieved.

That night you knocked on the door, and within seconds it flew open. Rebecca, flour covered hands, held out her arms for an awkward hug.

“You didn’t chicken out this time!”

You gave her a set of squinted eyes and she lightly giggled, waltzing back to the kitchen. Just as you were about to follow, a certain someone stopped you. Blocking the doorway, a young man you had been trying to avoid stood before your much smaller figure.

“Hey! You showed up this time, angel! Sorry I know I kind of scared you off last time. I’m sure Becs has given you her opinion on me.”

Bucky scratched at the back of his neck, shyly looking into your eyes.

“No hard feelings, Buck.”

You gave the man a tight lipped smile and started to maneuver past him, when his arms reached out for your waist.

“Becca told you I brought a friend, right?”

Confused, you cautiously nodded.

“Well, I want you to meet him. Hey Punk! Get out here!”

Suddenly, a man, no smaller than yourself rounded the corner and smiled bashfully at you.

“Hi ma’am, name’s Steve Rogers.”

The man, Steve, held out a hand for you to shake, which you did. All of a sudden, you two started talking and before you knew it, Bucky had left to go tell Rebecca their plan had worked. As implied, dinner ended with Steve asking you out.

“Hellooooo, any one home in there?”

Rebecca playfully tapped your head, shaking you from your thoughts.

“Huh?”

“I’ve been trying to get your attention for the past five minutes. Thinking ‘bout Rogers, aren't ya?”

With a timid smile, you nodded, soon standing from the vanity seat and going to change. Your friend had done an amazing job on pinning up your hair and fixing your makeup. You almost felt like a million bucks. To compliment it all, your mother had even found you a little baby pink number. Quickly changing, you stepped out of the closet, twirling in the sea on the pink fabric. Rebecca gasped at the sight and immediately reached for the camera, taking a picture of you, mid laughter.

Checking your wrist watch, you suddenly heard the doorbell and practically ran for the door with Rebecca who was laughing so hard that she couldn’t keep up.

Swinging open the door a bit too excitedly, you found Steve’s grin dissipating. A bit disappointed with his reaction, you toned down the excitement, hoping he wouldn’t notice your sudden change in demeanor.

“Wow, doll. You look,” The young man swallowed the lump in his throat, “stunning. Absolutely gorgeous!”

At the words, your disappointment morphed into satisfaction, and you stepped out the door, hitching onto Steve’s arm, waving goodbye to your best friend.

“Don’t keep her out too late, Steven!”

Rebecca’s words followed you both down the hallway, causing some laughter from Steve, who seemed a bit uncomfortable. Worried once more, you decided to pry a bit.

“Is everything ok, Steve?”

He turned to you with wide eyes and shook his head to dispute your many apologies.

“I’m just a bit nervous, it’s not you! It's just that no girl as pretty as you has never gone out with me before.”

Steve’s cheeks turned rosy red, before he looked the other direction, not wanting you to see him like this. In his mind, one wrong move and you’d leave him for another.

Humbled at his comment, you took your free hand and turned his face in your direction. With a big smile, you planted a soft kiss on the corner of his lips, leaving the young man almost breathless.

“Don’t worry about me, Stevie. I’m not going anywhere, except where you take me.”

Confident by your actions, Steve stood a bit taller and led you out of the apartment building, excited for his first date with you.

You were tucked into Steve’s side, enjoying a small conversation with him. The two of you were quite the pair, nervously asking the other one a question, trying to get to know each other since this was your first date. They say opposites attract, but that was not the case with you and Steve. So far, he had told you of the endless days he’d spent in the hospital, and a part of you longed for him to be healthy, as that sounded like his one wish. Steve would go on and on about how Bucky had set him up on dates and it normally ended with Bucky having two girls around his arms instead of one. You could see Steve’s self-confidence faltering, so you decided to share your many failed-date stories, eliciting a laugh from the man at the few comedic ones.

The whole walk, you were so caught up in talking to the man, that the two of you almost passed the first place you were going to stop. Of course, you were clueless as to where Steve was taking you, so you would have kept walking if Steve hadn’t stopped and gently placed his hands over your eyes. You felt the man turn you around and walk you a few steps when finally he removed the makeshift blindfold that was his hands.

“We’re here! Rebecca told me how much you loved chocolate, so I figured you could pick a box of your choice.”

He smiled lovingly at you, as you squealed like a child on Christmas morning. Thrilled, you ran into the store, seeing a case of a variety of chocolates. Steve caught up and enjoyed your cute facial expressions as you scanned over the options. There was an endless amount of chocolate, all in different forms and unthinkable flavors. About to order, you pulled out your clutch when Steve halted your actions.

“Now you think I’m gonna let my girl pay for her own box of chocolates?”

“But Steve-”

Your date stood strong in his statement, and demanded that you pick whatever chocolate you wanted. After scowling at him for a bit, you finally caved and picked from the overwhelming selection behind the glass case. You and Steve shared a few samples, laughing at how you both were acting like wine samplers. Since your date was buying the box, you told him that you’d only allow him to do so, if he selected a few chocolates himself. Begrudgingly, Steve agreed and you both might’ve held up the line a bit with your indecisiveness.

Walking out, you were once again wrapped into Steve’s side, this time his jacket on your shoulders as the sun had gone down and the night chills had creeped out. So far, you could feel Steve becoming more and more comfortable as the two of you started to talk about whatever came to mind. Just as you thought the man was done with the surprises, he stopped in front of the movie theater.

“Steve-”

“Nope, this is our first date, and we are going to make it memorable!”

You chuckled at his persistence and decided to play along.

“Well what about this lovely chocolate, we can’t just toss it out yet?”

Steve took the box and stuffed it in the pocket of his jacket that was still hanging on your shoulders.

“Oooh is Steve Rogers breaking the rules?”

A cheeky grin formed on his lips, “Only because I really like you.”

The minute the words left his mouth, Steve’s ears started to turn cherry and you shyly giggled.

“Well, I really like you too, Steve Rogers.” With that, you kissed him, but this time on the lips. As you did so, you could feel his cheeks warming and a big smile twisted onto your lips, breaking the kiss.

“Oh Steve Rogers, what am I going to do with you?”

#steve rogers x reader

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