#shadow's gruff and grumpy and tells him he's got better things to do | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

honeyryewhiskey · 3 months ago

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december

or, it's christmas tiiiime, and now dean is getting bossed around by his cupid to prepare the bunker for the holiday. he's totally loving it, just don't tell anyone. cw!! fluff! fluff! holiday fluff and wait—you do what under a mistletoe? heated kissing, strong language, 18+ 6.3k words

You’re sitting crisscrossed on the living room floor, barely a foot away from the TV, eyes glued to the screen.

Dean had left early in the morning for supplies, leaving you to follow Sam around the bunker like a shadow. You peppered him with endless questions about hunting, lore books, and the monsters they hunted until his patience started to fray. A tough feat with the ever sympathetic Sam, but somehow you keep managing to push that boundary with both the Winchesters. When the topic turned to his love life—your innocent curiosity fully unhinged—Sam had finally cracked. To remedy the situation, he popped in a DVD, and it only took a few seconds for you to become completely absorbed into the grinch who stole christmas.

The sound of the bunker door opening and slamming shut breaks the movie’s spell for a moment. Dean’s heavy boots clamber down the stairs as he grumbles, “Unbelievable. Two other mouths this food is feedin’ and not a single hand to help unload the car.”

You don’t budge, the movie is far more compelling than whatever Dean’s annoyed about. What did not go unnoticed by the disgruntled man was your attention being on the screen, instead of on him. None of your usual circling around him asking what he got at the store like you usually do. The thought buzzed around in his brain as he put the groceries away. A pesky little feeling of wanting your attention setting him on edge. He couldn’t even help himself, peeking out of the kitchen a few times to look back at your hypnotized form.

The vibrant hues of the screen reflected in your pupils as you watched each grumpy humph and retort from the Grinch. You found the oddly green and fluffy thing endearing, his antics making you think of another huffing, grumbling, dramatic man.

Suddenly, a soft brown teddy bear appears in your line of sight. The stuffed animal disrupts your viewing, staring back at you with shiny black eyes and a stitched-in smile. You blink, eyes trailing up the arm holding it. Dean towers over you, wearing his usual grumpy scowl—an expression that contrasts so sharply with the stuffed bear in his hand that you almost laugh.

“Here,” he gruffs, shaking the bear slightly. “You wouldn’t shut up about wanting one on our last hunt, and the store had some, so…”

Your brows knit in confusion, raking your brain until you remember the bears at the gala. Cute and just begging for you to take home. Too much action of the night led to you leaving without a new plush friend, and you did bring it up to Dean at least once. Maybe twice, four or five times at most.

Realizing Dean was actually listening to your spiels—despite his expressions making you think otherwise—makes your face light up with a radiant smile. You take the bear gingerly, cradling it like something precious. It’s plump, soft, and better than the ones at the gala. Settling it into your lap, you resume your movie watching, tucking the bear snugly as if it’s watching the film with you.

Dean’s frown softens—just a little—as he watches.

You lift a finger to point at the screen, peering up at him with furrowed brows. “Dean, this movie says Christmas is a holiday in December. It’s December now, but you and Sam haven’t said anything about this Christmas stuff.”

Dean shifts uncomfortably, his eyes darting around the room like he’s hunting for an escape route. “It’s… made up,” he shrugs. “Not a real holiday.”

“Oh,” you murmur, frown tugging at your lips as you look back at the TV. Holidays are becoming one of your favorite things these days. You were aloofly aware that humans had traditions, but there were so many over the course of human history that you never bothered to keep track. Now that the Winchesters have clued you in on some of these celebrations, you find it hard to believe the boys can be so lax about participating. And although you try your damn hardest not to be overly excited over learning new things, the joy that holidays brought you was a Pandora's box you’ve decided to leave cracked open.

“Dean,” Sam’s voice cuts through the air as he walks into the room, a deep sigh trailing behind him. “Why are you lying to her about Christmas?”

“Lying?” You whip your head between the brothers, wide-eyed.

Sam shoots Dean a look—one that says fix it—while Dean smiles coolly back, clearly unbothered.

“I’m not—” Dean starts, but Sam raises a brow. Dean groans, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “Okay, fine. I lied. But we’re not—”

“We have to prepare!” you shout, leaping to your feet. Screw containing excitement. The movie showed you the wonderful intensity of this Christmas thing, and you’d be damned if you let Dean grumble his way out of this one.

The teddy bear tumbles to the floor, forgotten for the moment. “We need a tree, and presents, and cookies, and sweaters!” You list, recounting from the film. Your gaze falls back to the bear, and you scoop it up quickly, holding it close. Your eyes sparkle as you coo, “Grumpy Bear needs a sweater, too.”

Dean freezes. “Grumpy Bear?”

Sam’s brow furrows. “Wait—Grumpy Bear?”

“Uh-huh,” You nod eagerly, trying not to laugh at your own joke and ruin it. Jokes were hard and you’re still getting the hang of them. “I named him after Dean.”

Dean groans, pinching the bridge of his nose as Sam fails to stifle his chuckle. “You’re killin’ me, lovebird,” Dean mutters under his breath.

“Alright, then,” Sam interjects, clapping his hands together before pointing at you and Dean, “you two go out and get us a tree and what-not. I’ll stay here and get the bunker ready.” He’s sporting a smug grin, clearly satisfied with his swift evasion of having to do any of the brunt work.

“What? Dude—no.” Dean shoots back, his head tilting as he sighs.

“That’s a perfect plan, Sam!” you chirp back, placing Grumpy Bear on the couch. You don’t give Dean the chance to protest further, darting to grab your shoes and jacket while the brothers bicker in the living room.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

The Impala hums steadily along the snowy road, but your focus is on the radio’s dial. Before you left the bunker, Sam had pulled you aside, helpfully informing you of the radio stations that play nonstop festive music this time of year. You memorized his quick instructions: Just turn the right dial, he’d said, until the static gives way to something jolly and christmas-y.

So far, though, all you’ve found is static—and the longer it drags on, the more Dean radiates a particular brand of agitation that’s starting to fill the car.

“Love,” he finally says, his voice tight with thinly veiled annoyance, “what are you doing?”

“Hang on, I just have to find—” You twist the dial a little more, and finally, success. The opening notes of have a holly jolly christmas crackle through the speakers, soft and cheerful. Satisfaction pools through you at the sound. A stark contrast to the usual sounds coming from the impala’s speakers: loud, crashing instruments with throaty vocals and a single song lasts for what feels like forever. Classic rock, he once told you, nothin’s better than the classics.

Dean groans like you’ve just personally offended him and immediately reaches over to change the station, but you’re faster. You swat his hand away with a firm pout.

“No way, Grinch.” You shake your head, crossing your arms triumphantly. “It’s Christmas time, and we’re getting into the spirit.”

Dean’s eyes flick between you and the road, and though his expression starts off sour, you can see the amusement tugging at the corner of his lips. Sam had warned you this would happen. He’d even told you exactly what to say when Dean inevitably tried to kill the Christmas cheer: Just say something about getting into the Christmas spirit, and be firm, Cupid. You know how he gets.

“Grinch, huh?” Dean mutters, throwing you a sidelong glance. “Alright, fine. I’ll let it slide this one time. But for the record,” his finger goes up in protest, “I am not the Grinch.”

“Oh, no?” You grin, eyes playfully scowling at him. “Mean, grumpy guy up on the mountain gets all gushy when someone’s nice to him for once? Sounds like someone I might know.”

Dean huffs out a laugh, finally giving in to the playful banter. “Grumpy, mean—fine. But I do not do gushy.”

Hearing his laugh makes your heart flutter, the sound feeling like a trophy when he’s usually at his wit ends with you. Dean was in general a pessimistic guy, that much you’ve noticed. And he was mean when he first met you, and wrongly assumed you’d be an annoying mouthpiece from heaven. But in the months you’ve spent following him around, you’ve started to figure out how to make that scowl melt into a big smile.

It was hit or miss most of the time, but you always were a bit of a boundary pusher.

“You do, too.” you press mockingly.

“Uh-huh,” he breathes, brows quirking, “Is that so? Well if I’m the grinch that makes you, what—my Cindy Lou Who?” His face squints with his words.

“Exactly,” you chirp, practically glowing with pride. Without thinking, you reach over, placing a small hand on his chest. “And I’m gonna make sure that heart grows three sizes, Winchester.”

Dean’s eyes flicker between you and your hand. His mouth twitching into a lopsided smile as he shakes his head. “I bet you will, lovebird,” he murmurs, voice softer now as you retract into your seat and he focuses on the road again. “I bet you will.”

The playful warmth lingers as the Impala rolls on, the car filling with soft holiday tunes and the quiet hum of the engine. You nod along to the music, sneaking glances at Dean as he drums his fingers against the wheel in time with the song.

The scenery outside begins to shift, and Dean slows the car, turning onto a gravel driveway. The worn out sign on the left side gate at the entrance reads, The Ginger Family Farm – Christmas Trees & Reindeer!

Your gaze sharpens as you sit up straighter, a large red barn sits on the hill, surrounded by neat lines of snowy pine trees. It’s an old and faded structure, but the chimney bellows smoke and the doors are propped open. From this distance all you can see are the twinkling lights inside and movement from the people within. But it’s the pasture near the entrance that really catches your attention. A herd of reindeer grazes lazily by a fence, their soft brown fur gleaming in the afternoon sun. Another faded sign beside them reads: Santa’s Helpers Live Here!

Dean hasn’t even fully parked when you unbuckle your seatbelt and lean over him, climbing into his lap to get a better look out of his window.

“Dean,” you whisper, eyes alight with wonder as your nose grazes against the glass, “are those… reindeer?”

He glances down at you, an amused smirk tugging at his lips. “Yep,” he replies, reaching over your frame to throw the car into park.

“They’re real?” you ask, turning to him with wide eyes, equal parts skeptical and fascinated. “I mean, I knew they were real, but I didn’t think I’d ever actually see them.”

Dean chuckles as he pops his door open, an arm going around your waist to stop you from tumbling out of the open door. “Real enough. But don’t get your hopes up—they don’t fly.”

You slide out after him, giving him a mildly exasperated look. “I know they don’t fly, Dean. Our universe has exactly three beings with wings: birds, bugs and angels. That much I am sure of.”

Dean snorts, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets as he watches you drift toward the fence, your curiosity written all over your face. The way your head starts to tilt, lips popping open as your eyes start to squint. Dean has witnessed this look more than a handful of times now, and it still has that same damn effect of making him want to watch you explore new things all day.

But it also makes his heart twist and strain as the pounding reverberates throughout his entire body. The kind of thing he does not want to think deeper about. You’re just cute, that’s all, and what kind of monster would say no to something so, damn, cute?

“You wanna go say hi?” Dean calls after you, his voice light and teasing.

You glance back at him, a shy smile finding your lips. “I can do that?”

“Sure, bet there’s some kid over there feeding them carrots. You can be next in line.” He teases.

The teasing goes over your head, as all you really heard was Dean agreeing to something. Without hesitation, you grab his hand, tugging him toward the pasture. “Fine by me, but you’re feeding them. I don’t do well with teeth.” you shutter.

Dean raises his brows, his expression caught somewhere between confusion and amusement. He tucks that comment away for later, adding it to the growing list of your quirks that simultaneously baffle and charm him. But you’re tugging him across the snowy field, all bright-eyed and—oh god—giggly, you’re giggling. He can’t bring himself to stop you.

And if his hand stays wrapped in yours a little longer than necessary—warm and steady against the cold air—well, that’s between him and his not-so-Grinch-sized heart.

As you approach the pasture, the reindeer lift their heads, their large, black eyes blinking lazily in your direction. One of them—a particularly curious-looking one with a slightly crooked antler—takes a few cautious steps closer to the fence.

You freeze mid-step, tucking yourself closer to Dean. “It’s coming over here,” you hiss, half-whisper, half-excited gasp. You weren’t used to animals of this size, a nervousness you’re still getting used to feeling creeps up your spine. With your hand still intertwined in his, you use your free hand to clutch his arm and merely peek at the animal from the safety of Dean’s side.

“Yeah, that’s kind of the idea,” Dean replies, deadpan, though the grin tugging at his lips betrays his amusement.

The reindeer stops a few feet away, eyeing you both with what you can only describe as mild suspicion. You tighten your grip on Dean’s hand and arm, big eyes peering up at him expectantly as you nudge him forward slightly. “Okay, go on, you first.”

Dean snorts, stepping forward to the fence. “It’s a reindeer, not a beast. Relax.” He leaves your side, the winter air hitting him a little harder without your warmth pressed against his side. Leaning against the wooden fence, he holds out a tentative hand like he’s done this a thousand times before.

To your surprise, the reindeer moves closer, sniffing at his fingers. You watch, wide-eyed, as it nudges Dean’s palm with its fuzzy pink nose.

“See? Not so bad,” Dean coos, glancing back at you with an infuriatingly smug expression.

You scoff, crossing your arms. “Sure, you’re the reindeer whisperer. But if I try that, it’s probably gonna bite me.”

“Doesn’t even have teeth to bite with,” he replies, rolling his eyes.

“You’re lying again, aren’t you?” you mutter, eyes sizing into slits from suspicion. Dean shrugs, but the smirk on his face instills your weariness.

Hesitantly, you shuffle closer. Keeping close to Dean, so that most of his body is between you and the animal, you tentatively reach out. Dean’s large hands contrast yours when they’re side by side like this, and he impatiently moves yours to touch the curious snout.

A quiet, nervous gasp escapes you, but the reindeer only leans into your touch. It’s nose is soft and velvety. The feel of it momentarily puts out your nervous flames. Dean gently maneuvers you in front of him to give you ample space for petting, leaning down to your ear he speaks softly, “There you go, little angel. Just be gentle, alright? Don’t wanna spook ‘em.”

The words spook ‘em makes you jump back, but there’s little space to move with Dean being so close. Making you become a stumbling mess between him and the fence. Your harsh movements scares the reindeer, as the nimble animal darts back to it’s herd. Leaving you huffing with your heart pounding.

With your hands now safely back at your sides, you feel Dean’s chest rumble with laughter as you whip around to shoot him a scowl. “Not funny, Dean.” you whine, watching as he struggled to pull himself out of the laughing fit.

A familiar sound, music like the kind you found in the car, turns your attention to the old barn. You take notice of the small cluster of families near the entrance, their arms full of freshly cut Christmas trees. The warm glow of string lights spills out from the open barn doors, illuminating the snow-dusted path leading up to it.

With one more flash of sharpened eyes at Dean, you march on towards the cosy atmosphere on the hill. Dean quickly falls in line, mumbling half-hearted apologies through the fading bubbles of laughter.

Stepping into the barn, the scent of fresh pine and hay wrap around you like a warm blanket. Inside, a few people mingle and look around the shop. A large wooden counter sits in the center, where an elderly man with kind eyes and a bushy white beard greets you with a wide smile.

Dean leans into your ear again as walks past, quickly murmuring, “That’s definitely Santa.” He pulls away with a glimmering smirk and shoots you a wink as he approaches the counter.

“Looking for a tree?” The man in a buffalo plaid jacket asks, his voice warm and welcoming. Your thoughts briefly wonder if he is Santa. But if a spirit actually went around invading people’s houses on the same night every year, surely Sam and Dean would have done something about it by now. You settle on a quiet suspicion that you would not be asking Dean about.

Dean glances at you, green eyes softening. “Yeah,” he says, his tone lighter than usual. “Somethin’ nice. She’s got high standards, this one.” He gestures to you with a big, charming smile. You nod back, not entirely sure what high standards for a tree would be, but you’re certain the bunker would need the best damn tree available.

Dean starts talking about height, type, and price with mr-may-or-may-not-be-Santa—a conversation that makes your brain wonder elsewhere. The barn was warm and something behind the counter mixed a chocolatey scent into the pine air. Wooden shelves lined the walls, stocked with syrup bottles, boxes of pastries, and Christmas themed trinkets. You moved towards them to get a closer look and search for anything pie-like for Dean.

As you muse around the small space, a basket of small, handwoven angel-dolls catches your eye. Curious, you step closer and pick one up, tilting your head as you inspect its delicate details. Each doll is unique, with different hair and skin tones, but they all share the same serene, closed-eyed expression. They look kind. Peaceful. So different from the angels you once knew in Heaven.

The quiet shuffle of boots behind you signals Dean’s approach. His jacket brushes the back of yours as he leans over your shoulder, his gaze following yours to the doll.

“That’s what we put on the top of the tree,” he says casually.

“Why?” you ask, tucking the angel back into its basket.

“Uh, not sure, really. Maybe—”

A gentle clink, clink, clink interrupts him. You both turn toward the sound to see the jolly man behind the counter holding a silver bell high over his head. His grin stretches wide over his rosy face as he announces, “You two are the first of the season!”

Dean’s brows furrow. “The first what?” he mutters under his breath, while your own confusion mirrors his.

The man gestures upward with a wink, then turns back to his work. Dean follows his motion, his head tilting back, he sees it. “Oh god,” he whispers with a quiet groan.

“What?” Your eyes trail up, finding a small sprig of green with red berries hanging over your heads.

“Mistletoe,” he answers flatly.

Your head tilts with curiosity, still staring at the small fixture, “and that means?”

Dean hesitates, glancing at you before clearing his throat. “You’re supposed to kiss whoever you’re caught underneath it with. And if you don’t, you get bad luck.”

Your lips twitch as you stifle a giggle. The thought of humans, for centuries, kissing beneath a little spring for the sake of good luck. Humans and their little quirks, never ceasing to entertain you. “How romantic.” you muse, that mischievous look, the one Dean has learned to recognize, is glowing in your eyes again.

He shifts uncomfortably, his hand rubbing the back of his neck, “It’s a stupid superstition we don’t—”

You’re not even paying attention to the words coming from his mouth. Instead, you lean onto your tiptoes, grabbing his wide shoulders for support as your lips place a soft kiss against his. He’s warm against your skin, his hands instinctively finding their place at your hips, causing goosebumps to ripple along your skin. Hot and dizzying. The sensation is so exciting that a light bulb clicks on inside your mind. This must be why humans kiss under a damn sprig.

It’s over just as quick, a fleeting touch, but enough to leave Dean frozen in place. When you pull back, his wide-eyed expression makes you bite your lip to suppress a laugh. You briefly wonder if kissing him when he’s grumpy would leave the same effect. A thought you’ll probably test, as it cements itself into the fabrics of your mind.

“You’re looking at me funny.” You say with a laugh. The innocence in your voice makes Dean’s head spin. Batting your lashes up at him like a kiss is as simple as a high five.

He blinks, green eyes raking your face as he processes what just happened, “You just kissed me.”

“Mhm,” you hum nonchalantly, thinking nothing of it.

“But you’re an angel—cupid or whatever.”

You arch a brow, tilting your head as if the thought hadn’t crossed your mind. “And?”

“I don’t know, I just…” Dean falters, gesturing vaguely. “I figured you’d be… you know, above that sort of thing.”

The corners of your lips twitch as you suppress a smile, your voice soft but teasing. “Did you think that means I’m some sort of prude, Dean Winchester?”

“Well, yeah,” he admits, still too caught off guard to filter his words. “Kinda.”

You shrug, your eyes alight with quiet amusement. “I’ve never been afraid of a little sin.”

Dean stares at you, utterly baffled, his mouth opening like he wants to say something but can’t quite find the words. His mind spins in circles, caught somewhere between disbelief and the faintest flicker of something he refuses to name.

Finally, he shakes his head and mutters, “Lovebird, you’re gonna be the death of me.”

You grin, the playful spark in your eye only growing. “Maybe. But at least you won’t have bad luck now.”

Dean groans, running a hand down his face as he turns toward the barn’s open doors. “C’mon, let’s just find a damn tree and get out of here before you decide to test any more sins on me.”

But as he walks ahead, his heart beats a little faster, and he doesn’t dare think too much about why he already misses the warmth of your lips.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

“Are you sure the Santa guy said you could do this?” You ask, your voice tinged with doubt as you glance between Dean and the awfully large axe slung over his shoulder.

Dean stands there, the very picture of confidence, one hand propped on his hip and the other gripping the axe like he’s posing for the cover of Lumberjack Monthly. His eyes rake over the tallest tree in the grove, a determined smirk playing on his lips. Somehow, he’d sweet-talked the man at the counter into letting him chop down the damn tree himself—a detail you’re still struggling to wrap your head around.

Your eyes timidly look over the rest of the trees. Some were already cut, bound in netting and propped against fences. Closer to the barn, a few families stand around men, dressed in matching plaid and denim, as they expertly axe down the pine—the way it’s supposed to go, a tradition you quickly picked up on.

Dean doing it himself, when you assume he’s never taken down a tree before, does not feel like the right way to go about the tradition.

“Cupid,” Dean sighs dramatically, still appraising the tree, “I chop vamp heads for a living. I think I can handle a little tree.”

You eye the towering pine skeptically. “I wouldn’t exactly call this ‘little.’”

Dean turns to you, his smirk widening as a glint of mischief flashes in his eyes. “That’s what—” He stops mid-sentence, recoiling at himself as he shakes his head. “Nope. Nope. Not doin’ it.”

You blink at him, confused by his abrupt backpedaling, but before you can ask, he’s already stepping up to the tree and hefting the axe like it’s a wonky baseball bat.

With a hefty swing, the blade lodges into the trunk with a solid thud. Dean pauses, straightening to inspect his handiwork, though his furrowed brow suggests he’s less than impressed.

Letting out a frustrated huff, he shrugs off his jacket and shoves it into your hands. “Hold this,” he mutters, already focused on pulling the axe free for another attempt.

You dutifully clutch the jacket, taking a tentative step back as Dean lines up his next swing. The follow-through chips a small piece from the trunk, sending it flying through the air. Your gaze tracks it as it lands quietly in the snow.

“Dean,” you whine softly, glancing around at the other families in the field who seem to be having a much smoother time letting professionals handle the chopping. “Maybe we should—”

A sharp crack interrupts you, the sound startling as it echoes through the crisp air. Your breath catches as you snap your attention back to Dean, who’s now whistling under his breath, clearly pleased with himself.

“Alright!” he cheers, his grin wide and triumphant as he puts more force behind his swings. The tree trembles with each impact, the gap between trunk and stump widening until, at last, the entire pine groans and falls with a muffled thud into the snow.

Dean chucks the axe to the ground, throwing his arms up in victory. His breath puffing visibly in the cold air. “That’s what I’m talkin’ about, baby!”

For a moment, you’re frozen, staring at the tree in awe. It’s not just any tree, you realize—it’s your very first Christmas tree. The thought sinks in, filling you with a fizzy warmth that bubbles up into a grin so wide it makes your cheeks ache. Without thinking, you hop across the snow to where Dean is standing, your boots crunching beneath you.

“You did it!” you squeak, your voice breathless with excitement as you fling your arms around his neck.

The hug catches Dean off guard, but his hands instinctively settle at your waist, pulling you closer and lifting you just slightly off the ground. He’s sturdy, like an anchor, and for a moment, the world feels perfectly still despite the crisp air and the snow swirling gently around you.

You pull back a fraction, your arms still looped loosely around his neck, and Dean looks down at you, his own grin softening. His chest tightens unexpectedly at the sight of you—eyes wide and sparkling, cheeks flushed from the cold, or maybe from something else entirely. The joy radiating from you feels almost too much, too bright, too... vulnerable.

He swallows hard, his throat suddenly dry as the warmth of the moment wraps around him.

“Oh, lover,” he murmurs, the nickname tumbling out unbidden, his voice low and almost reverent. “you gotta stop lookin’ at me like that. For my own sake.”

Your grin falters for just a second, confusion flickering in your eyes. “Like what?” you ask softly, your voice almost unsure, as if the words themselves hold a weight you can’t quite grasp.

Dean chuckles, shaking his head like he’s trying to brush off the way his stomach twists at your innocent question. “Never mind,” he mutters, his hands lingering just a moment too long before gently setting you back on the snowy ground.

You don’t linger on his words, too focused on the tree, and how it doesn’t make you feel jittery and nervous like the way looking Dean in the eye is making you feel. “C’mon, Dean,” you say, your voice bright again, “let’s get this Christmas tree home!”

Dean watches you bounce toward the tree’s trunk, your laughter dancing in the air like the snowflakes falling around you. His chest feels tight again, but this time, he doesn’t fight it. The way your smile lingers in his mind feels dangerous, but he can’t seem to let it go.

Against his own better judgement, he lets himself soak it all in—the smile he puts on your face, the way your excitement feels like a kiss from the sun in the dead of winter.

He exhales slowly, his breath visible in the cold air, and picks up the axe with a quiet smile tugging at his lips. Watching you crouch to inspect the tree like it’s the most magical thing you’ve ever seen, he reels in the inexplicable warmth settling in his chest.

“Yeah,” he murmurs to himself, his voice soft. “Let’s get it home.”

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Back at the bunker…

The living room feels much more cozy with all of the festive decor priming the room. The scent of pine mingling with the usual smell of dust and old books. The tree is nearly perfect—twinkling lights casting a golden glow, red and green ornaments catching the light in sparkling bursts. But the top remains bare.

The three of you are finishing up the tree, clad in matching sweaters. Dean let you pick them out, each adorning little reindeer and ‘oh deer’ written across the image with sparkling jewels.

“You’re too far to the left, Sam!” you call out, hands on your hips as you stand beside Dean.

“It’s centered,” Sam retorts, utilizing his full height and wing span as he adjusts the angel at the top of the tree.

“No, she’s right,” Dean cuts in frankly, arms crossed. He squints up at the angel. “It’s a little crooked. Just tilt it—”

Sam groans. “You two are impossible.”

You nudge Dean with your elbow, grinning up at him. “Told you I have a good eye.”

Dean smirks, shaking his head. “You? A good eye?” He shakes his head, smirking. “Please.”

With an exaggerated huff, Sam adjusts the angel one more time, muttering something under his breath about “backseat decorators.” But when both you and Dean gasp in unison, he pauses to look down.

“Better?”

“Perfect!” you both chime at the same time, your voices overlapping in synchronicity.

You glance at Dean, giggling at the moment’s absurdity, only to find him already looking at you. His grin softens, the teasing edge replaced by something warmer, deeper.

“Told you teamwork makes the dream work,” he gloats, but his voice is quieter, almost teasing.

You look away quickly, that funny warmth spreading to your cheeks again. The way he keeps looking at you today, all that warmth in his pretty green eyes—it’s too much. There’s a warm gooey feeling stirring in your chest, the intensity of new emotions is always exhausting. But this? You’re not even sure how you’re still standing when your knees keep going weak.

Your hand brushes against the weight in your pocket, the mistletoe you had swiped earlier suddenly feeling heavier. The memory of the earlier kiss flashes in your mind, and your stomach flutters nervously. What if—no. You can’t just stand here thinking about it. God, no. You have a thought to chase down and explore.

“I, um… I’ll be right back!” you blurt out, spinning on your heel before either brother can question you.

Dean blinks, caught off guard. “What? Where are you—?”

But you’re already halfway down the hall, moving faster than you probably need to. Sam and Dean share confused looks, the younger brother shrugging before turning back to the tree to adjust some of the ornaments. Dean tries to let it go, but he’d actually enjoyed having you so close to him all day, he couldn’t just shake the annoyance he felt at your absence.

Meanwhile, your quickened pace comes to a harsh stop at your room, heart racing. Clumsily pulling the small spring from your pocket, you fasten it to the doorframe with a piece of tape. You step back to admire your handiwork, a sly grin spreading across your face despite the butterflies in your stomach.

“Dean!” you call out, your voice light and sing-songy, “can you come here for a sec?”

His boots are heavy against the floor as he approaches, stopping just short of the doorway. His eyes narrow as they take in your giddy grin and the way you’re practically bouncing in place.

“What’s going on?” he asks, suspicious.

You point upward, your smile widening as his gaze follows your gesture. The mistletoe dangles above him, and his expression shifts—part amusement, part exasperation.

“Seriously?” he drawls. “You stole that, didn’t you?”

You press your lips together, suppressing a giggle. “Borrowed,” you correct innocently.

Dean shakes his head, his lips pressing together in a way that barely hides his smile. “You’re somethin’ else, you know that?” but it’s so quiet, as if he’s only speaking to himself.

You shrug, your playful tone impossible to hide. “I’m a cupid,” you say sweetly, as if that explains everything. “And you’re under the mistletoe.” You remind him.

He sighs, leaning against the doorframe. His eyes take their time looking you up and down. Like he’s trying to measure you up, your mischievous nature making his head spin once again.

And Dean really hates getting his mind frazzled, especially by a little thing who’s so goddamn sugary sweet.

“Uh huh, you got me there.”

You nod, reeling in the way he’s giving into you. “Rules are rules, Dean.”

There are about a million and one reasons why he shouldn’t entertain this. Getting caught under the mistletoe at the barn was one thing—a moment of bad timing, easily brushed off. But this? This cheeky little stunt of yours, this deliberate invitation—it’s another story entirely. You’re an angel, literally, for God’s sake. There’s gotta be rules around this growing connection that he’s been so stubbornly ignoring. That much he’s sure of. Nevermind the fact that you’re pure, a true beacon of sweet curiosity and everything he is not.

Dean knows damn well his rough hands would quickly break something so delicate if put in his grasp.

But you’re excited, staring at him starry-eyed. And it’s just a kiss. Hardly a real one if there’s a mistletoe commanding it, right?

Surely, this sin can be forgiven… twice.

For once in his life, Dean lets go of the ever-tight grip he has on his better judgment. He silences the screaming voice in his head, loosens the chains on the flickering desire he’s tried so hard to bury. His body moves before his brain can catch up, his hand lifting to your face.

His thumb presses into the soft skin of your chin, his fingers firm but gentle as they tilt your head up toward him.

Your breath catches. He pauses, leaning in close enough that the peppermint-laced warmth of his breath fans over your lips. The hesitation lasts only a heartbeat, just long enough for that voice in the back of his mind to beg him to stop.

But he doesn’t.

Dean closes the distance, his lips pressing against yours. It’s firm but not harsh, sure yet somehow keeping a tenderness he’s finding harder to deny around you. Your world tilts, heart hammering so loudly you’re certain he can feel it in your chest. For a moment, the edges of everything blur—time, space, all of it—until there’s only him.

His hand slides to the back of your neck, pulling you closer. The other finds your hip, anchoring you to him in a way that feels as much like a need as a want. Your hands move instinctively, planting firmly on either side of his neck, fingers curling into his hair for stability.

The kiss deepens, unhurried yet consuming, his lips leading and yours eagerly following. The lingering scent of pine clings faintly to him, grounding you even as the dizzying heat of his touch threatens to sweep you away.

When he finally pulls back, his chest rises and falls heavily, breaths mingling with yours in the narrow space he leaves between you. His lips linger close to yours as he murmurs, voice low and rough, “Happy now?”

It takes a moment for you to find your voice, still lost in the haze of what just happened. Your cheeks burn, but the giddy smile spreading across your face is impossible to contain. “Oh, I don’t know,” you tease breathlessly, tilting your head. “Maybe. I think your Grinch heart might’ve grown at least one size today.”

Dean snorts, the tension breaking as the corner of his mouth lifts into the grin you’ve been pulling out of him all day. “You’re impossible,” he says, though there’s no real bite to it. Not this time.

Even as he steps back, as he forces himself to put distance between you, his eyes stay locked on yours. Jade green and conflicted, they linger for a beat too long, like he’s trying to figure out what on god’s green earth he’s just gotten himself into.

this was so long im sorry, i got a lil carried away

#dean winchester #dean winchester x fem!reader #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x cupid!reader

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trashland-llamas · 6 months ago

Text

Mother-Hen

x gender neutral! reader

Reader who has those over the top mother-hen vibes colliding with the grumpy asshole that is Logan Howlett. Who at first avoids Reader like the plague. Growling out how he wants nothing to do with them. To which they don't take any of it to heart, having done this dance a dozen times over.

Seeing it for it was. He didn't want anyone to get close as it meant caring and if he cared about someone, it could then be used against him. And that was simply more unnecessary heartbreak to drown in a bottle of whiskey over. Oh, but it doesn't stop Reader from bulldozing that down.

It all starts when Logan brings a relatively new mutant down to their room instead of the infirmary after a group mission. 'Scared of hospitals and the like. You were the next best thing,' he gruffs out. Seeing the extent of the injuries from how torn up the mutant's clothes are, Reader clears the table, grabbing their first aid kit. Logan laid them down.

Watching from the sidelines as Reader prepares a needle and thread, stitching the mutant's skin together. 'Your turn,' Reader wets a rag to get rid of the dried blood around Logan's already healed wounds. 'I can do that myself.' Too tired to fight against it altogether, Logan takes the rag. 'Thank you, now go. I'll watch over the kiddo.' Their foot now in the door. Letting him leave to the shadows.

The next time they cross paths is late at night when Logan’s abruptly awoken by a nightmare. Deciding to go take a ride on his motorbike when he smells spices in the air. His nose leads him to the kitchen where he sees Reader cooking up a large pot of soup. Their hair tied up into a lump, resting on the nape of their neck. Sleeves rolled up as they chopped vegetables and chicken to go into the broth. The sick season was close upon them.

'Why are you still up, cooking soup?' Logan spoke up after leaning against the wall, his tone accusatory. 'Because of how often everyone forgets to eat. Plus sometimes after missions, it's nice to have something you can just heat up.' Reader answers, watching out of the corner of their eyes as Logan sits down.

'Not to pry, but what's keeping you up?' They had always thought he had a weariness to his bones, outside of the added adamantium. ‘Couldn’t sleep,’ comes his short reply. Not really wanting to talk about it. ‘Touchy subject, got it. Well, you can stay if you like and I can dish you out a bowl when it’s ready. Need someone as a taste tester anyways.’

Logan doesn't respond but ultimately stays, the coziness of the kitchen was better than how he'd feel, standing alone, under the stars. Genuinely desiring company for once; Reader's company.

'Here you go,' pushing a bowl towards him. 'Thanks,' not bothering to blow on the still hot soup. Reader nods, going back to packaging the soup in deli containers. Moving stuff in the fridge around to make room. Logan, after finishing his bowl, takes up the mantle of cleaning the dishes.

Waving away Reader's 'oh, you don't have to do that.' Saying that he wanted to. That and his calloused hands were accustomed to manual labor. It was the least he could do in exchange for some well cooked food, as shown by the grin on his face.

Logan realizes they’ve wormed their way into his heart when he finds them passed out cold on the couch in the common room. Chuffed that at the very least, Reader seemed to have been taking a moment of relaxation for themselves. The battered old tome he had lent to them had fallen to the ground mid-reading.

Their neck at an awkward angle that would definitely hurt in the morning. ‘Really got yourself into a pickle here.’ Taking a minute to argue with himself, running the pros and cons of what he was about to do. Cause yes, he could simply toss a blanket over them and call it a day yet his gut was telling him that wasn’t enough.

‘C’mon, wake up bubs.’ Jostling them by the shoulders, helping them up to a standing position as they’re still half asleep and groggy. ‘Logan?’ Hands guiding them by the shoulders. ‘Yea, it’s me.’

Not realizing in their state that Logan was guiding them towards his room and not theirs. That is until they see all the Americana type decor. ‘What are we doing in your room?’

‘Was closer…the common room’s no place to get sleep with all the busybodies trudging in and out. That and your neck looked like it was killing you.’ Explaining like it was obvious. Sitting on his usual side of the bed, Logan held up the duvet. A silent way of telling Reader to get in.

Too tired to argue with how homy the atmosphere is, they oblige. Climbing over to rest their head on Logan’s chest. His heartbeat easily lulls them back to sleep.

#x men #wolverine #logan howlett #x men x reader #logan howlett x reader #wolverine x reader #x gender neutral reader #x gn reader

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doctorstrangereview · 4 months ago

Text

0090: Marvel Premiere #4

Cover Date: September 1972 On-Sale Date: June 27, 1972

Doc continues to explore the mysteries brought to his attention last issue. It wasn't exactly anything voluntary as the impetus to do so is standing right in his living room. Barry (Windsor-) Smith continues art chores for one more issue. Archie Goodwin fills in as writer for this issue. Doc will get a semi-steady writer for the next few issues. The splash page credits include "Featuring concepts created by: Robert E. Howard." The central story is adapted (stolen) from The Shadow of Innsmouth and H. P. Lovecraft gets no credit or acknowledgement. The "protagonist" Ethan Stoddard is an obvious pastiche of the unnamed narrator. Even the blurb next to the title from the fictional Thanatosian Tomes sounds suspiciously like "In his house at R'lyeh, dead Cthulhu waits dreaming" from The Call of Cthulhu. There are more similarities along the way. Let's see what Archie and Barry have in store for us.

Doc has just entered this Sanctum Sanctorum fresh from his fight with Nightmare in the dream dimension and getting slammed by an 18-wheeler in this dimension. He's about to find out who cast the ominous shadow in the window from the final panel of last issue. He knows it's not Wong, because he passed Wong's room and evidently Wong snores.

Doc, being the polite host when he's not gruff and rude, refers to it as "the sounds of his slumber." Doc pulls back the curtain ready to cast a violent spell but only sees mild mannered Ethan Stoddard. Doc still hasn't cast any meaningful protection spells around his H.Q or even remembered to lock the door. Security, Doc! Security!

Ethan introduces himself and apologies for barging in and taking the liberty of building a fire. Never was someone so polite in their imposing themselves on someone else! Ethan tells Doc that he desperately needs his help. "Hang on minute, Ethan. I gotta take care of something else first." Doc rings a gong to (wake up and) summon Wong.

Wong enters stage left and apologizes for falling asleep before Doc got back. As he puts it: "I did not intend to retire before your return, but such exhaustion overtook me--" Doc slips back into his old ways and gets all cranky with Wong. "Get me balms and bandages! Now!" says Doc. Wong scutters off and Doc realizes that he probably shouldn't have said that in that way. He goes after Wong and for the first time Doc apologizes for being a jerk! Wong, being the self sacrificing dude he is, tells Doc it's not necessary.

Fortunately Wong won't be this big a pushover forever, but it'll take quite a while before we get there. Doc returns to the study and tells Ethan that along with things to plug up his wounds, Wong is gonna serve tea. Perhaps if Doc hadn't flown out of the E/R so fast his wounds would be in better shape and Wong wouldn't need to play nursemaid in addition to his other duties.

Ethan begins his story and Doc is all shell-like ears. Ethan and his fiancée, Beth (we meet her later,) are from a little town called Starkesboro (Innsmouth) and they both went to college together and came to the big city for graduate work. Beth was working on a thesis about the occult which is how they both found out about Doc. Beth returned to Starkesboro and started researching something called The Thanatosian Tomes. Beth put some of the crazy stuff she was researching in letters to Ethan and then stopped writing back completely and returning Ethan's missives unopened.

While Ethan tells his tale, Doc frets about the things happening. Him being really, really grumpy. Wong suddenly falling asleep. Ethan turning up out of the blue. Are these all a series of coincidences or is something going on.

Doc's like "that sounds interesting, but I gotta make sure you're not BSing me. I'm gonna probe you with my All-Purpose Amulet and then non-consensually remove your memory that I did it." Ethan appears to be telling the truth as we only see Ethan saying farewell to Beth as she departs on a bus. Then he wakes up to Wong getting Doc ready for a trip.

"You seemed tired after I did all that probing of your... mind, yeah, that's it, mind. So we let you doze off. Now lets head to that hometown that you really don't like." As they leave, Wong frets in a similar way that Doc did as Ethan narrated his tale. Doc and Ethan hop on a bus. How mundane an activity for the arguably second most powerful magic user on the planet. Ethan is amazed that Doc is doing all this for a stranger, including, presumably paying for the bus tickets. Doc replies with the platitudes that no one in danger is a stranger. Also, this may be bigger than the two of you, so there's that.

The bus stops for lunch and Doc marvels at the pleasures of consuming phallic shaped food.

Doc and Ethan arrive at Starkesboro amid appropriately freak weather. At the same time, Wong summons The Ancient One and asks him to go on a midnight rendezvous with Doc as he rudely refused to answer the phone earlier. (This happened off camera.) "Sure thing," replies The Ancient One and hangs up.

Back in Starkesboro, Doc comments how strange it is for church bells to be ringing at 11:00 PM. "Yeah, things are really effed up here, Doc," replies Ethan as they check into the crumbling old town's crappy only hotel. I'm guessing Doc is paying for this as well. Doc rings room service for tea and the man who checked them in brings it. "Is the rest of your staff attending the weird church service?" Doc asks. "This ain't no city hotel. I am the staff, you pretentious bozo!" the dude replies.

With that over and done with, Doc prepares for is assignation with his old buddy, The Ancient One. Trouble is, something's up and he has problems going ghost. With no mystic Viagra handy, he just has to struggle through and is finally able to rise to the occasion.

Doc and The Ancient One banter back and forth about books, cults and sleeping obscenities. The Ancient One departs saying he heads to his own battle as Doc faces whatever it is that's going on below in the town. What is Yao up to?

The next morning, Doc and Ethan are out and about in Starkesboro. Ethan is heading to the library when he asks a passerby if it's located where it used to be located. It turns out the passerby is an old buddy of Ethan's. But Lemuel looks a bit odd.

Lemuel looks like he's going through the same metamorphosis that the people of Innsmouth endured as they turned into deep ones. He's not at the point where he needs to breathe through gills yet so he can still service the plot. Ethan heads to library while Doc gives Ethan a knowing wink. "You and your lady friend should have some time to yourselves in the quiet back corner of the stacks. I'll check out the church for a few minutes."

Ethan has a run-in with the small town librarian who gives the typical "you don't belong here" speech. Ethan goes on in search of Beth while Doc enters the church. There's something up there because it's messing up Doc's disguise spell somethin' fierce!

That upside down cross makes the church a bit suspect. The altar with chains doesn't help any. Doc finds dried blood on the altar and realizes the lizard behind the cross means that the people here worship something called Sligguth. (I would say Dagon, but the next three issues have like three Dagons!) Behind the altar Doc finds a labyrinth of tunnels. Yeah, this church gets better by the second!

Camera two brings us back to Ethan and Beth. Beth gives the "go away outsider" comment. Ethan turns her around and: Oh, No! Beth has got that Starkesboro look!

Ethan runs out of the library and into the church to cry to Doc. He notices the upside down cross and lizard. Doc explains what it means.

Doc and Ethan are trapped in the church as the increasingly mutating townspeople gather outside. They are calling "Come out, Ethan!" This is not just a call for Ethan to leave the church or admit that secretly he likes Lemuel more than Beth. They are calling forth Ethan's Starkesboro look. They are successful and Ethan attacks Doc. The ungrateful sod!. Ethan explains that Doc's powers are being drained. Ethan and the townsfolk continue to put pressure on Doc to exhaust his power.

Doc flies around the church using his cloak but eventually he's too weak to even control that. The townsfolk break into the church. Ethan and Beth are all lovey-dovey again in their reptilian splendor. Acting in concert the townsfolk knock Doc unconscious we leave with him chained to the altar awaiting the arrival of Sligguth.

This was a lot of fun to read. Archie did well with his Innsmouth rip-off. In Innsmouth, the narrator gets stuck in the town "accidently" while here Ethan is forced to go back. The narrator doesn't have a sorcerer buddy or a fiancée to knock scaly boots with so Ethan seems to have things a bit better. Archie incorporated a nice bit of plot planning to draw Doc into this. It feels separate from the previous story, but we'll eventually see that the previous issue was a prelude to future events. It's well paced and we can probably blame Doc getting railed by a semi and then having to fight his favorite dream demon nearly to death for some dumb decisions on Doc's part. Barry continues to depict The Ancient One with a distinct lack of most clothing. Is he slowly attempting a naturist way of life or is it summer in Tibet with broken air conditioning? Part of me is sorry that this was Archie's only Doc story. The arc might have been more cohesive if he wrote a few more installments.

#doctor strange #doctor strange reviews #stephen strange #ancient one #wong #sligguth #marvel #comics #archie goodwin #barry smith #barry windsor smith #marvel premiere

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rainydaydream-gal18 · 4 years ago

Text

(The Bad Batch) Crosshair x Reader: Chilly

Warnings: blizzard, cold, Crosshair being grumpy for thirty seconds, some cuddles, and some kissy-kissy.

Your teeth chattered and body shuddered in futile attempts to warm itself. Even though the fire your rescuer had built emanated warmth, you hadn’t felt much of a change in the last several minutes laying in the cold sleeping bag beside it. The rickety ice-fishing shelter was a haven from the snowstorm outside, but you weren’t out of the woods yet, so to speak.

Getting lost in a blizzard during a mission sure had its downsides. You were fortunate that Crosshair had found you when he did.

Speaking of the man, you glanced up as Crosshair ducked into the doorway, pulling the wooden door shut behind him. He removed his helmet and set it down on the icy floor before throwing another log onto the fire. The roar of its flames was so pleasant. An ache settled in your cold hands as you let them hover in range of the warmth. You almost didn’t notice how Crosshair started removing his armor. Almost.

“Cross, w-what are you d-d-doing?”

Without looking at you, he unbuckled the last of his armor until he was just in his blacks and boots. “I commed the others to report that I found you. Tech said you were exposed to the cold for too long.”

“Sure f-feels like it,” you muttered. “What d-d-do we do?”

“We need to get you warm.” With expression gruff, he climbed over until he was right beside your sleeping bag and peeled back the cover. His intense gaze watched you expectantly. “Take off a few layers.”

“O-okay.” This time, the stutter wasn’t from the teeth-chattering. You reached up a cold hand to the collar of your heavy coat, fingers fumbling around the zipper. The action was difficult as it was with your hands being numbed from the cold, but having him watch you like a hawk didn’t help.

“Quickly,” he snapped.

“Sorry, i-it’s a little hard to move.”

He sighed, but despite his earlier display of impatience, his hand was gentle as he pushed yours away and set to work on removing your coat. He helped you shrug your way out of it. You were able to pull the sweater off over your head, leaving you in the tank top and pair of leggings you had underneath your gear. Goosebumps bloomed along the bare skin of your arms, and another shudder racked your body.

Crosshair wasted no time in climbing into the sleeping bag, pulling the cover up over the both of you, though he hesitated when you drew closer to his lean form. You were desperate for warmth at that point, but you didn’t want to make it too uncomfortable for him.

You peeked up at him shyly from where your head rested against his chest. “M-mind if I…?”

“Do what you need to.”

You shifted to tangle your legs with his and breathed a sigh of relief. Your one arm wrapped around his torso, hand accidentally brushing a patch of skin left exposed by the hem of his blacks riding up. He jolted from your ice-cold touch with a hiss.

“Sorry,” you mumbled. Your heart began to thud wildly when he reached for your hand and tucked it under his blacks to place it on the hot skin there. “Thank you,” you breathed. Crosshair fidgeted for a moment as he got used to the temperature.

Neither of you spoke, so you listened to the soothing sounds around you as your body began to heat up. The campfire crackled and snapped nearby. It cast shadows on the old walls of the shelter. If you listened hard enough, the howling winds outside could be heard. What fascinated you the most was the steady drumming of Crosshair’s heart inside his chest. His breathing hadn’t slowed, signalling that he wasn’t completely relaxed.

You hated the thought of making him uneasy. Over the time you’d spent with the Bad Batch, the snarky sharpshooter had grown on you. Well, he wasn’t always snarky. He sometimes acted like that when it came to newcomers, or once in a while he’d throw in a sarcastic remark to tease his brothers. Most of the time, he was just quiet. You had learned to read his body language, and you could tell at the moment that something occupied his mind.

“You okay?” You were finally able to stop the chatter of your teeth.

“Next time, report back to the ship when you’re told,” he grouched. “We didn’t know what to do when we lost connection to your comm. Hunter nearly had a heart attack.”

That was Crosshair code for, “I nearly had a heart attack.”

“I tried,” you argued. “My comm was broken, remember? I couldn’t hone in on the ship’s signal. My tracks were snowed over, and I got lost.”

Crosshair went silent again for a moment as he brooded over it. There really hadn’t been much you could do after escaping the snow beast other than remain where you were and hope the others would find you. So that’s what you did.

“Perhaps next time you should let one of us come with you,” he said curtly.

He did have a point there. Maybe if you hadn’t gone off alone in the first place, things might’ve turned out differently. But you had insisted that you didn’t need to be watched.

Oh, the sweet irony.

Crosshair huffed, seeing that he had won the argument. His chest rose and fell with the action. As much as you wanted to be irritated, you didn’t have it in you. Not while you were laying in his arms with your face buried in the shoulder of his blacks. Guilt seemed to be the only emotion other than relief that you were capable of at the moment.

“I’m sorry.”

The apology was quiet, laced with humility as you abandoned your pride and simply let yourself be grateful. Crosshair had braved the snowstorm to find you, after all. He was doing everything he could to make sure you were safe, allowing you to cling to him with ice-cold hands and feet by the fire.

He shifted a little, draping an arm around you. Despite the fact that you were already pressed against him, the action felt more intimate. He was finally holding you in return, actively helping you to get warm. You took it as his way of accepting the apology, and fortunately, he didn’t stay on the topic any longer.

“Are you doing any better?” he asked, glancing down at you. His eyes didn’t hold the same irritation as before. They even softened a bit as you met them.

“Yeah, much better,” you said. “It’s nice to be able to feel my fingers again.” You flexed the digits experimentally against his skin, and Crosshair’s breath hitched. His arm had subconsciously tightened around you. The unexpected reaction piqued your interest. This time, you let your hand run just a little farther up past the hem of his blacks. Crosshair inhaled suddenly.

“Does that bother you?” you murmured, glancing up to try and read his expression. Though his face showed the same indifference it usually did, his eyes met yours with smoldering intensity.

“No.”

Without breaking eye contact, you did it again, letting your hand roam farther up his side. You felt the expansion of his ribcage as he inhaled deeply. As it contracted, you released a breath that you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. For several minutes, the two of you stayed like that. Your palm smoothed across the length of his side, fingertips brushing over a few prominent scars. Your skin had gone from cold to warm to searing in Crosshair’s arms. Did he feel it too? Did he notice the pounding in your chest? His heart had picked up its speed.

He studied your expression like a hawk as his hand came up to brush your shoulder. It was a light touch, delicate, as if he was testing the waters. His eyes flickered to the spot before returning to your gaze. The tension was unmistakable.

Unavoidable.

Irresistible.

Crosshair took in your reaction; how your eyes fluttered closed and how lips parted slightly. You were completely at ease with his touch, and you could feel that he had finally relaxed into yours. With eyes shut, you felt his hand run down the length of your arm. His warm breath fanned your face.

“Cross,” you sighed.

Both of you had pulled the rubber band as far as it could go. With your utterance of his name, it finally snapped, and his mouth was on yours. Heat exploded in your chest at the realization that he was kissing you. The hand that you let linger at his waist clenched around his blacks. Crosshair shifted to lean on his elbow, bracing his other arm beside your head on the pillow, as he kissed you harder. He could appear cold, calculated...but his kisses weren’t. They were scorching.

When you separated, so many questions flew through your mind as he gazed at you.

Was this a dream? Why, oh why, did his lips feel so warm and good against yours? Was this a slip-up, or did he feel for you the way you felt for him?

Only one way to find out.

“I care about you, Crosshair,” you confessed. He didn’t withdraw from you or give a look of annoyance, which was a good sign. It was only when he leaned in and pressed a kiss to your forehead that you fully understood. You beamed and nuzzled farther into the crook of his neck as he got settled on his side again. The sleeping bag had become a cocoon of warmth, though his arms still encircled you for good measure.

His heartbeat had gone steady. His breathing slowed. And you relished the minutes of peace until the storm cleared and the others were sure to find you.

#crosshair x reader #bad batch x reader #the bad batch reader insert #crosshair reader insert #crosshair x y/n #the bad batch crosshair x reader #bad batch crosshair #crosshair imagine #bad batch reader insert #crosshair x you

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shelby-love · 4 years ago

Text

JAY HALSTEAD

Cold Coffee

Requested: yes

Prompts: none

Warning(s): none

Author's note: I had a hard time figuring out what exactly you wanted me to write about. I'm pretty sure I changed the ask a lot because I didn't understand it. Sorry!

You pursed your lips with hands on your hips and glared at the man in front of you. Or behind you; at least that's where he was before you had turned to him.

"Do you mind?" You asked coldly. "I can practically feel you breathing down on my ear. There's plenty of space, man, you don't need to be cooped up behind me."

The young man behind you looked all but surprised at your words. He glanced at you with doe green eyes that were hidden beneath a fringe of dark hair he had been running his hand through for the last 2 minutes.

You pretended not to recognize him and instead chose this moment to talk to him for the very first time.

Or warn him, so to speak.

You took note of his clothes while at it. They were wrinkled in all the wrong places, almost as if he didn't have time to iron them this morning.

Like he was late for something.

You shook your head and turned back around, instinctively taking a step away from him. The coffee shop was cloistered, so many tables and so little room, but that was part of its charm. You lacked clothing and weren't dressed for the occasion that was winter, so you stood there in the line, hoping to store enough of the shop's warmth before you run out and make a dash for your boyfriend's car.

"Y/N have you gone mad?" A sweet voice interjected, breaking apart your dazed thoughts with its bubbly tone. Your face reddened from the attention and warmth that had merged to torture you. "It's 17 °F outside, and you're walking around all dolled up like it's spring!"

You giggled and proceeded to order two coffees like you had first planned to do.

Your favorite bartender raised both eyebrows at you, urging you to speak while both of you wait for your coffee. "First of all, I'm not dolled up."

He shook his head and smirked, ready to make your words die right on your tongue. "Girl… That white t-shirt, which by the way, I know it's not yours, screams I had it so good last night that I didn't even bother with my clothes because I know I look better without them. And that's hot by the way."

The wink he gave you was the cherry on top, and you stifled your laughter with the back of your cold palm in embarrassment.

"What the hell is going on?" A gruff voice spoke up. "Can we order or are you too busy gossiping with her?"

The voices that were background music in the cozy shop died within an instant.

Your friend narrowed his eyes. "Sir, in case you failed to notice, there are two of us working at the bar and you, along with Miss Y/N are the only one waiting in line."

You cringed and looked at displayed cupcakes beneath you in hopes of the tension washing over you and disappearing right after. You didn't really want any feelings of someone's anger to linger on your mind at only 7 in the morning.

"Brittany could you take this man's order for me? I'm busy with Y/N's."

A petite blonde stepped out of the shadows she wasn't even in and looked at the grumpy man with a dashing smile.

"I better go," you whispered after a moment and reached for the two coffees, laying out the exact amount of money on the counter. "Before things get crazy."

The bartender gave you an apologetic smile, "I'm sorry about him, I don't even know who he is. He just started stopping by. Anyway, say hi to Jay for me."

For a moment you debated on whether you should tell Jay about this man. Him coincidentally showing up at exact places where you were in the last few weeks left a bitter taste in your mouth. But then again, you might be making this all up to yourself.

You are dating a senior detective after all. The inner voice in your head was starting to get too loud.

"Will do," You said quietly, turning around on your heels and slipping out of the coffee shop and into the cold Chicago air.

Goosebumps immediately took residence on your skin because the sleeves of white t-shirt you had only covered the upper parts of your arms.

The car was hard to spot amongst the early crowd. The body of people that formed around you was making it more difficult to find Jay. Sighing, you clenched your teeth and moved forward until a hand grasped your shoulder, and you turned around.

"You…" You gasped in surprise because you had no thought invade your mind that the young man might have followed you out.

"It's cold out here," He offers, the grin on his face never subsided. "Let's get you somewhere warm."

You shook your head, baffled beyond belief. "I'm not going anywhere with you."

He stood in front of you, his face forming into an angry scowl for the first time. The grin vanished and his whole demeanor changed – almost as if you had just flipped the switch that held his façade together. His rough hand grabbed your free wrist, and you yelped in surprise, holding the bag that contained your coffee securely.

"Let me go!" You fought, doing your best to ignore the ominous look in his eyes.

This is going to leave bruises for sure, you thought while gazing at your captured wrist. Maybe if you screamed, he would get off you, but you didn't want to cause a commotion. Plus, you wanted him there for when Jay came back to fetch you.

Fear settled in your chest, but it disappeared as quick as it came when Jay's voice hung in the air.

His words were blurry to your ears. Amid the moment, you only got a one good look at your boyfriend’s face before he placed himself in front of the young man, shielding you from harm's way.

Your wrist was free, but bruised and sore.

"What the hell man! Get off me!" The green-eyed man exclaimed, pushing at Jay with his hands. You hadn’t even realized what Jay was doing.

"Oh, yeah?" Jay mused; his face grew colder within a second of saying that. "What'd you do to her?"

Jay turned around to you at that moment, his blue eyes skimming you over for any injuries. His eyes widened at your wrist.

"Nothing, man. I-I didn't even touch that bitch!"

The simple word aggravated the detective and Jay lunged at him; although not in a matter that would get his hands beaten up.

Your boyfriend of 2 years moved his jacket and showed your attacker his badge, and before the man could do anything, he had his hands twisted behind his back. "What are you doing?!"

"Arresting you for assault," Jay informed before lowering his voice. "But if I had it my way; I'd beat you to a pulp for what you did to my girlfriend. Now, sit the hell down."

Trembling with apologies, the man sat on the pavement, hands cuffed, and pride crushed.

You watched the scene in front of you with a red face. Not because of the crowd that surrounded you as you stood by the side, but because of the cold Chicago air.

This was supposed to be a quick trip.

Grab and go.

"You okay?" Jay asked after hanging up the phone, presumably having just finished calling a fellow officer to arrest this man for real.

"Y-yeah," You whispered. "Just cold…"

You allowed Jay to wrap his warm jacket around you and inhaled his cologne after the warmth overtook.

"I shouldn't have let you alone."

You rolled your eyes at the protectiveness and leaned into him, head falling on his shoulder as he led you to the car. "I called Sergeant Platt. She sent someone to pick him up. They’re two minutes out."

You nodded, "Good because I'm freaked out."

"Do you know him?" Jay asked with furrowed brows.

"I never thought much of it," You sighed. "He kept showing up at work, and now at the coffee shop, but I always thought he was new at work and all… I mean, all of us get coffee here."

Jay listened carefully. "This is serious."

"I know," You agreed. "Our coffee got cold. It can't get worse than that."

Jay outright laughed at your words.

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cringelordlikesplaz · 4 years ago

Text

Strange to be an Eel

Turning into silly putty wasn't the strangest thing that had happened to him, honestly. It’s everything that happened after that which was weird.

"Please! I'm begging you, Jake bailed last minute and we don't have any replacements! This musical is our last chance. If this flops, we'll never be able to keep this place open!" She cried. 'She' being a short woman with desperate tears in her eyes and too many freckles.

Eel pulled his wrist out of her surprisingly strong grip. He shook his hand off and observed the woman in front of him. She looked stressed, tired, and a general mess. Her name tag read ‘Penny’.

"Well, Penny." He said curtly, "I got things to do. Better things to do than-"

"But you're the perfect fit! You're the right size, you already know all the lines-"

"Seeing a musical five times doesn't mean I've memorized-"

Penny snapped to attention and pointed her finger into the air dramatically. The imaginary audience located in the storeroom fell silent.

"And if I'm not here to save the day- Then as God as my witness, I'll be here to save the night!"

"-It's 'then as the gods as my witnesses'." Eel pointed out. Penny smiled smugly and Eel shook himself off.

"That doesn't prove anything. And it doesn't change the fact I can't go onstage!" Eel said.

"You'll be wearing makeup and goggles! A hat too! No one will be able to recognize you in costume!" Penny said, suddenly desperate again.

"No! I won't do it!" Eel said in response to her puppy eyes.

"Please! Please, Bruce Wayne's out there and if this goes well the PR will be fantastic!" She said, tears beginning to fall.

Eel looked up at the cracked ceiling and let out a long, long groan.

"I want 100 bucks." Eel said.

"Deal!" Penny said, the tears instantly evaporating.

Damn actors.

~~~

So, the musical rendition of the hit show 'The Grey Ghost' went pretty damn well, in Eel's opinion. He was skeptical at first, as anyone should be, but he had to admit it, Penny was right. He was an amazing Grey Ghost.

It helped that Eel had been a fan of the Grey Ghost since he was a boy, and it also maybe helped that he had snuck into the theater to see the practice runs of the play five times. He had thought he was being sneaky, but apparently theater kids could like, smell intruders. Fresh blood, if you would.

He hadn't known what would happen when he was cornered by a very manic little blond lady, but it ended up surprisingly well. He even got paid.

After he and the other actors had taken their bows or whatever, Eel snuck back to the storeroom. He pried off the grey suit- it was kinda itchy honestly- and began to dig around for his usual clothes.

He put his suit on. The nice one, that didn't pinch his shoulders and had all his crap in the pockets. He buttoned up the coat and pulled out his glasses. They were black and pretty slick, if he was honest with himself. Which he was. Occasionally.

The temples were wide and helped hide his eyes from the side. They hid his scar even better. They were sunglasses, unfortunately, not the best eyewear to have in Gotham, but he liked them. And that was enough for now.

They were also expensive as all hell. Some sort of designer brand. He would wear them till they broke for how much they cost him.

There was a knock on the door.

"I'm decent," Eel said.

Penny opened the door and held her clipboard to her chest excitedly. Her eyes sparkled.

"So." She said.

"So?" He asked.

"So! Y'know how Bruce Wayne was in the crowd tonight?" She asked.

"Yup," He said.

"He liked it! He liked it so much he wants to fund us!" She said, "And he wants to meet you."

Eel blinked. "He what?"

"He said your performance was incredible! He wants to meet you!"

"No."

"No?" She asked, her head cocked, "But you've got so much talent! He could get you a job, y'know."

"No. Just- no." Eel shook his head. He could just hear the sirens now. "I can't, Penny."

She seemed like she wanted to press him- like she did with getting him into the costume. But something on his face made her reconsider, apparently.

"Alright." She said, sighing, "I'll tell him you're not available."

"Thanks, pal." Eel said.

They stood awkwardly.

"I need to go." He said, pointing behind her to the door.

"I- okay." She said. Penny stepped aside and Eel left the storage room, Penny following behind. She led him to the backdoor.

"Um, thank you...?" She said as he stepped out into the alley.

"It's best if you don't know my name." Eel said.

"Will you be back?"

"Probably not." Eel said, "What with your success here tonight- I think there's going to be too much foot traffic around for a crook like me to be hidden."

She smiled softly, "You weren't very hidden in the first place."

"I'll have you know I've hidden from cops in more obvious spots."

"I think that says more about the GCPD than it does your skill," Penny said.

Eel huffed, mockingly offended.

"Later, miss." He said, turning to leave.

"Goodbye." She said.

Penny waved to his back and waited for him to slink into the shadows before she shut the door.

~~~

"Eel O'brian." A gruff voice called.

Eel grinned and craned his head around to look at a familiar face.

"Matches! Ol' pal, where've you been? It's been ages." Eel said.

Matches Malone slid into the seat next to him at the bar. The bartender wordlessly handed Matches a drink and Matches wordlessly slid a few bills over the counter.

Eel took a sip of his own drink- a cocktail.

"I've heard there's work around." Matches said, taking his match out of his mouth to take a sip of his drink. Whiskey probably.

"I mean, yeah-" Eel said, rolling the cherry around his glass for the hell of it, "But there's always work around."

"Hmm."

"Yeah yeah, I know what ya mean." Eel said, nodding. "You want the work that won't have you dressed up as a daisy and punched by a furry. I gotcha."

"Hmm."

"I miss the good 'ol days, Matches. Before all these folks in spandex came along and started going nuts all over town-" Eel paused, taking a sip of his cocktail, "-But I do got to admit it; the spandex is pretty hot."

"I need cash." Matches said, ever eloquent.

"Cheers to that!" Eel laughed. He downed the rest of his drink, swallowing the cherry.

"Where's the work?" Matches finally asked, and Eel's grin faltered. Always work and no play with this guy.

But Matches seemed to like him well enough, so Eel wouldn't hold it against him.

"So, new boss in the West part of town looking to hire some folks. I think they're hiding something pretty big, but we won't know that 'till we get there, won't we, Matches?" Eel said.

"Hmm."

"Yeah, me too buddy."

~~~

Things at the new job were getting crazy. Like, really really crazy. Like the type of crazy he spent a great amount of his time trying in vain to avoid. Super crazy.

Pun intended.

It started off fairly normal. By Gotham standards anyway. Looting places. Stealing. Scarin' the living daylights out of folks. Keeping out of the limelight.

But the boss turned out to be working for an even bigger boss- who had a penchant for monologuing- and Eel couldn't help the sinking feeling he had in his gut.

And then the boss- the small boss and not the bigger, monologuing boss- somehow kidnapped Batgirl of all people and decided to drown her. And he did it in this big glass chamber with a valve on the side.

He stood in front of it, glaring at each of his men accusingly.

He had each of them turn the valve, adding a few inches of water to the chamber, and taking few inches of air away from Batgirl. He was trying to root out a snitch. Or, as he put it, a bat.

Matches didn't even hesitate. Eel wished he had that guy's confidence.

But Eel? He wasn't a big fan of murder. It made him feel icky. It kept him awake at night. He already had enough insomnia, thank you very much.

And Batgirl- She was just a kid. A baby-faced teenager. Up close, she was no longer a force of nature fighting alongside a cryptid. She was a teenager up to her nose in water, her clothes torn and bloody.

Eel went last.

He put his hands on the valve and-

He couldn't do it.

He wouldn't.

A lot of things happened after that.

The boss (the small one) told the rest to shoot him down, and Eel had a half a second to view his terrible life before Matches tackled him to the floor.

The glass of the chamber broke and the room was suddenly flooded with a lot of water and one very mad vigilante. Then a window got busted in, even more glass flying, and then two Robins showed up- There was the young Robin who was grumpy and the other older Robin that wasn't Robin anymore but Eel couldn't really be bothered to remember his name at the moment.

There was fighting, gunfire, blood, and then there was glass in his hands-

And then Matches had somehow manifested them both outside and set Eel on his feet.

"You-" Eel spluttered, "You saved me!"

Matches looked at Eel. Eel looked at Matches. The street was quiet. Inside the building, it was not.

"Thank you." Eel said softly.

"...You cost me my payment." Matches said at last.

Eel's face fell.

"I just- She's just a kid, Matches. I ain't a monster." Eel said.

Matches shook his head and walked away, leaving Eel on the sidewalk with glass in his hands.

Guess he was wrong about Matches.

~~~

That day wasn't too bad, though. In the middle of the night he was woken up to a knock at his window. His fourth story window in his crappy apartment.

He opened his window and suddenly a basket was shoved into his arms. He fumbled with it for a second, his hands still raw. There was a blur of movement and Eel was left standing half-naked holding a- a gift basket?

He sorted through it- it had cash and cookies and bandages. It also had a plain white card. He opened it and raised a brow in surprise.

"Thanks for not drowning me!"

It was signed with a little bat drawn in the corner.

The cookies were delicious.

~~~

The safe was built into the wall. The safe itself wasn't too big, and the wall was only made of plaster. It would be a pain to lug the safe back to base though. And it would cost precious seconds to hack away at the wall to get the safe out-

There was really only one option. The bomb he had was small and wouldn't do much in terms of excavation- but it would absolutely open up that pesky Wayne-Tech lock.

"Alright guys, we need to get back-" Eel didn't hear anyone. He turned- "Guys?"

"It's been a while, O'brian." Batman said, surrounded by the unconscious bodies of his crime buddies. Well, not really buddies- you get the point.

"Batman! Hello! I don't think we've met," Eel said, swinging on his heel and turning to face his doom.

"No, we haven't. But when I didn't hear word from the police of any of your activity for a few months- well." Batman took a silent step closer. "One tends to worry."

"Oh? Me? Lil 'ol me? You shouldn't have." Eel batted his eyelashes, though the effect was diminished as he was wearing his shades.

"You plan these heists well." Batman said slowly, "You waited until the Riddler attacked to go for this safe. You got past the cameras without setting off the alarm. You tipped off the police of where you'd be- on the other side of town."

Eel tried to reach for the detonator on the bomb. If he could just- "You flatter me, Batman really, but I-"

"We could use a man like that on our side, O'brian." Batman said. "A smart man like you could do some real good in the world."

Eel laughed. That was the most wrong thing he'd ever heard. He laughed but it wasn't funny.

He pressed the button and the bomb started counting down from 10.

"I don't think so, Bats. I'm not the hero type." Eel said, and then tried to make a run for it. Batman caught him by the collar.

"It's not about types. There's good in you."

"I really wish I could stay and chat, but I gotta split." Eel said, slipping his arms out of his coat and breaking into a mad sprint.

The bomb let out a single shrieking beep before it detonated.

Eel didn't turn back to see what happened to Batman.

~~~

A deal went wrong. Unsurprising. They broke his leg. Unsurprising. He was alive. Surprising! Unfortunately, he was still very much crippled and bleeding out from somewhere.

He limped along the sidewalk at night, always a dumb thing to do. His vision was either going or the lighting in this city was getting worse by the moment. Given that he lived in Gotham, it was likely both.

He limped into a grassy part of the city- a park of some sort. He'd get caught soon. Or maybe he'd bleed out and die. He couldn't manifest the energy to care either way.

He flopped down onto the grass, for lack of any other bright ideas. He couldn't see the stars through the cloud cover. Tragic.

"Hey." A commanding voice called. He looked around until he spotted a scantily-clad woman. She was green and wearing leaves and had bright red hair and was looking at him like he was a pile of dead slugs.

Oh. Oh crap. Oh crap that's Poison Ivy.

Eel tried to shrink into the ground.

"Hiiiii Poison Ivy, how's the weather?" He asked. He tried to smile charmingly but it was most likely very strained and bloody.

"Why are you bleeding on my flowers?" She asked, a single brow raised.

"Haa, would you believe that blood makes a great fertilizer?" Eel said.

"It does." She said.

"Uh," Eel had lost too much blood for him to come up with a witty remark.

"Please don't kill me." He said.

"Greater men than you have begged for mercy. What makes you better?" She asked, head cocked.

"I can, uh," Eel panicked, "I can give you my grandma's recipe for caramel coffee."

Poison Ivy's other eyebrow raised.

They looked at each other for a moment.

Then, a shrill voice called from across the park.

"Ivy! Come on!! What are you even doing?!"

Eel was fairly certain he was hallucinating now. Blood loss and all that. Because Harley Quinn, wearing a football jersey and sweatpants, came running up to stand besides Poison Ivy.

"We're going to miss the game," Harley pouted, then took notice of Eel, "Who's that mess?"

"Someone who can make caramel coffee, apparently." Poison Ivy said, bemused.

"I like caramel." Harley said.

Poison Ivy shrugged, "We can keep him if you want."

"I also like coffee..." Harley tapped her chin in consideration, "Yeah we'll take him. Come on, Ivy!"

~~~

That was how he ended up getting high with Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy. His leg was propped up on a table, a bong was being passed around, the apparent football game played on the TV in front of them. They were in a greenhouse and the city’s lights shone through the glass almost magically. This was probably not what someone suffering from blood loss should be doing. Eel almost considered making a break for it.

But Poison Ivy was the Weed Queen of Gotham, and getting this stuff free? Too good to pass up.

Harely had seemingly forgotten about the promised coffee, but since they hadn’t killed him yet and gave him weed, Eel decided he'd write the recipe down for them before he left.

"I don't get why capes dress the way they do," Harely said, "I mean, rogues have the same problem but like, it's more noticeable with the heroes, y'know?"

"Like, the boob windows?" Ivy asked. Harley nodded enthusiastically.

"Yeah, yeah! The boob windows." Harely said, "Why do all the guys wear kevlar and body armor and the girls got to show off their tits?"

"Maybe the dudes should show off their tits too." Eel said.

Poison Ivy laughed and Harely nodded even more enthusiastically.

"Yeah! This guy gets it!"

"See, if I were to go running around in spandex-" Eel gestured to his very much not spandex coated body, "I'd show off my cleavage all the time."

"Men don't have cleavage," Ivy pointed out.

"Not with that attitude they don't." Harley said, "Say, Eel, if you ever get tits, come over so we can prove Ivy wrong."

Eel cackled, "Sure thing! And if I ever start wearing spandex as a hobby I'll make sure the V-neck plunges all the way down."

"You'd better!"

Ivy laughed and Eel was handed the bong again.

~~~

Eel wasn't even doing anything. He was in his apartment, minding his own business. Well actually he was trying to sleep but that wasn't going so well.

Then there was a tapping on his window. Feeling a sudden wash of deja-vu, Eel turned around. There was an otherworldly, haunting green glow coming from his window.

Pausing, and exercising a healthy amount of caution, walked over to the window.

A UFO hovered outside his window. A tiny one.

Eel rubbed his eyes.

The UFO bonked against the glass, seemingly wanting inside.

"uh," Eel said. Against every ounce of common sense, he opened the window.

The UFO flew inside his room, casting its light oddly through his home. There was a mechanical whir, and suddenly a robotic arm sprung out from the bottom of the ship.

"Uh," Eel said, regretting everything immediately.

The UFO then grabbed Eel by his good ankle, his other leg still in a cast for a few more weeks. He lost balance and hit his head on the floor. The small ship lifted him off the floor by his ankle, and then dragged him out the window. He tried to claw at the windowsill but the ship was too fast.

"UH,"

He dangled dangerously over what was at least a thirty foot drop. The UFO paid no mind to his panicked flailing, and instead began to go higher.

"OH GOD."

~~~

The small UFO took him to a bigger UFO, of course.

A small hole opened in the underside of the ship, and Eel was brought inside. The inside of an alien spaceship looked nearly identical to its outside, apparently. Weird and green.

The smaller ship finally dropped him off in a large circular room. He was set down gently on his back, but he still hissed in surprise. The metal floor was freezing and he was only in his shorts.

"Uh oh uh oh uh oh..." He muttered.

"Hello, human!" A cheery, buzzing voice greeted.

Eel looked around frantically and finally spotted a small, glowing blue light.

"Uh, hi?" He said to the light. The blue light bobbed up and down- excitedly?

"Human!" It said, "We are the-"

It said something that sounded eldritch to his human ears.

"-and we saw your performance!"

He blinked.

"...my what."

"On February 7th, approximately 11 months ago, you performed in the musical "The Grey Ghost Strikes Back!"." The light said. Several other colorful lights manifested around him.

"...uh huh."

"If you are wondering why you did not see us, the-" [REDACTED] "-in the crowd on the date of your performance, it is because we were not there."

"Ooohh kayyyy...."

"Batman recorded it and sent us a copy!"

Eel blinked. They were speaking alienese, he was certain of it.

"He also sent along with it 307 other forms of human entertainment as a welcome package to Earth!" It said, "And we must say, we really enjoyed your performance."

A red light, hovering just a little lower than the blue one, perked up.

"We especially enjoyed your performance in the third act, and would like to compliment your singing skills." The red light said.

"Thank you?" Eel said.

"If it is not too much trouble, human, we would like what is most commonly known to you as an 'autograph'." The blue light said.

"...alright."

~~~

The night started off odd, he'd admit it. But it wasn't bad. He signed some stuff. He didn't know what the things he signed were or what exactly he wrote with, but it hardly mattered. They asked him to sing a song from the musical- he did- and they somehow applauded him.

They gave him alien food, and he'd be damned if he didn't accept free food. Even if it was probably radioactive. It tasted like cotton candy. Again, not bad.

They told him a bit about their situation. Their home- somewhere on a different plane of existence- exploded. They were the last of their kind. Batman approached them, because he could do that apparently, and offered them a place on Earth.

"Our culture is based on entertainment. Each piece of what you call 'media' is like a fine work of art to us." They said.

"Oh, cool. So do you kidnap actors you like in other stuff?" Eel asked, trying to figure out the best way to consume the slime on a stick he'd been given. He decided there was no proper way to do that so he just decided to slurp it off.

"We would like to meet the actors and actresses in other media, but they usually just scream the whole time they are here. We gain the impression that they do not appreciate our hospitality." They said.

Eel shrugged, "I can't imagine why. You guys are great."

"You have taken this whole experience very well, comparatively."

"I mean- I'm a bit desensitized to weirdness." Eel said.

"Is this experience considered 'weird' to other humans?" They asked.

"Nah." Eel said, waving off their concern, and set his slime stick down, "Hey, I'd like to get home now. This has been fun and all, but it's kinda cold in here."

"Of course, human. We wish you fame and fortune for your future."

"Uh, you too?"

They dropped him off on the roof of his apartment building. The sun was beginning to rise. He made his way down the stairs, nearly naked and his leg still in a cast. He slept okay.

~~~

Eel was known for many things. He knew most, if not all, of those things were bad. Hell, all of the things he was known for would be bad to the common man. But to the common crook? Only most of those things would be considered bad.

Some of the things he was known for made him desirable.

He was a safecracker, he never got caught, he could make a good plan and stick to it. He was good at his job.

But Eel was not... valuable, per-say. He was a tool in most people's eyes. Something to be discarded when the job was done.

Eel knew this. Made his peace with it. He knew when he took this job that the guys he was working with didn't give two shits about him. But he needed their muscle for the security guards, and they needed his skill to crack the safe. They all needed the cash.

They walked into this big facility during a storm. Mr. Freeze was causing havoc in city hall again. The outer parts of the city didn't get the blizzard- they got the freezing rain.

The security guard appeared- he had a gun and he was willing to use it. If the folks he was working with were smart, which they weren't, they would have ran. Don't shoot back, don't have murder put onto your sentence along with theft and arson and everything else.

But they were stupid, and they shot blindly, and the guard shot Eel in the shoulder. And the bullet tore through his shoulder and into a container of something-

Another shot rang out, the guard fell.

There was a crack and suddenly Eel was soaked in something- it was bright and hot and it burned like the embers of Hell. He screamed, of course.

The people he was working with, his 'pals', stared at him for just a second.

"Eel-!"

"Eel doesn't have the cash, now run!"

Eel got up, and gave chase. His steps faltered and his vision swam.

He made it outside just in time to see them get into the car and book it.

"Adios, Eel!"

"You putrid punks!" He yelled, his hand clutching his shoulder. Everything burned. Everything throbbed. His pulse beat in his ears, the rain came down like knives, and the bullet hole poured blood like a faucet. But it was oddly thick- was it? The world kept wanting to wobble and spin.

The- the police. They'd be here soon. Maybe. Eventually. He needed to go.

He walked.

Down the street, down an alley, then another, then another, until the buildings began to spread out and trees and grass began to coat the land.

The rain was softer here. Warmer too. He climbed a shallow hill. Like climbing a mountain. His heart slammed the inside of his skull like a drum. There was a tree on the hill, its branches bare.

He collapsed beneath it.

He didn't have time to see if he could spot any stars before it all went black.

~~~

Eel's life had always, always been strange.

But it apparently that was just the beginning.

38 notes · View notes

tlou2holland · 5 years ago

Text

Joel x reader (pt3)

Summary: you and Joel have a chat and it gets a little steamy

warnings: cursing and a tiny little bit of smut (maybe??)

you can read the previous parts here: Pt 1. Pt 2.

A couple of days have passed, and to your disappointment, Joel didn’t show up again to check on you. Instead, he didn’t show up at all, nor to his duties or small gatherings in the evening. You’re too scared to ask anyone about his whereabouts, not wanting your secret to come out, but not seeing Joel for days takes a bigger toll on you than you’d like to admit. So here you are, all grumpy on the usual Saturday-dance, declining anyones offers to dance with you. “What got you so quiet, hmm?“ Dina appears next to you, casually leaning against the bar while you watch the people around you sway to the music. “Just the aftermath of my cold, I guess.“ You sip on your drink and briefly glance over to her. Her hair is all messy and a thin layer of sweat covers her forehead and neck. She looks happy, and beams at you with her freckled face. “Come on, that’s a lame excuse. Is it because of Joel?“ Dina wiggles her thick eyebrows and you slam your glass on the counter, a little harder than intended. “What?“ You look at her, eyes flickering back and forth between her eyes and little smirk. “You like him, don’t you?“ She brushes a strand of hair out of her face and you frown. “Is it that obvious?“ Your stomach starts cramping in an uncomfortable way and you cross your arms. “No, well, kinda. I mean,I see how you look at him. You don´t even care for the other boys here.“ She giggles and you scoff. “Who else is here to care about. Jesse?“ You raise an eyebrow and Dina shakes her head. “Marcus fancies you, you know?“ Dina picks up your glass and takes a sip, cringing at the bitter taste. “Marcus?“ You look around, finding the blonde haired bloke sipping on his beer, talking to Jesse and Seth. “He asks you to dance with him every week, and you always say no!“ Dina hands you your glass and you rest it against your chest, watching Marcus from afar. He´s good looking, with blue eyes and plump lips. He is a little taller than Joel but not as muscular, still fit enough to flex with his muscles from time to time. You sigh and turn to Dina, distress written all over your face. “But I don’t want him, he looks way too young.“ You try to reason, but Dina is not having it. “He´s your age, Y/N. You simply have a thing for older men.“ With that, she grabs your hand and starts pulling you towards the center of the room. “You gonna say no to me, too?“ She moves her shoulders to the beat and forces you to do the same, not letting go of your hand and pulling it towards her from time to time. You chuckle and look at her, a small smile making its way onto your face. “I can´t say no to you.“ With that you start to let loose, and actually have some fun. Ellie joins you two, and you watch with a big grin as she makes a move on Dina. Soon, they dance arm in arm, hands clasped around each others necks and faces dangerously close. You decide to give them some privacy and make your way to the corner, just to escape the heated room. You breathe in the cold night air and exhale, watching your breath fan like a cloud before you. You close the buttons of your blouse and sit on the porch, resting your feet on the steps beneath you. “I see I´m not the only one who wanted to escape for a bit.“ A warm voice says behind you. You turn your head to see Marcus shyly smiling at you. You return the smile and nod. “It´s quite loud in there.“ You rest your arms on your knees and feel Marcus sit down next to you, the smell of lavender soap filling your nostrils. “I´ts nice out here.“ Markus takes a deep breath and looks at you, eyes glossy and cheeks tinted pink. You smell alcohol as he exhales, and look forward. It’s dark and empty on the streets of Jackson, laughter and music coming from inside. “How have you been? Didn´t see you much around these days.“ Marcus tries to strike up a conversation with you, and you sigh. “Can´t complain. Just had a cold, that’s all.“ You press your lips together and Marcus eyes widen. “Why didn’t you tell me! I would have kept you company.“ He bumps his shoulder into yours and you rub the spot with a small smile. “That´s kind, but I wouldn’t want you to get sick.“ With that you get up, not comfortable with how close he’s getting, and turn around one last time. “I´m heading home, see you around.“ You wave at him and wander off, not seeing the disappointed look on his face. You silently curse under your breath, why did Dina have to tell you that Marcus likes you? You would have preferred not to know. You hug your body as you walk over the graveyard, chills erupting along your spine. After all the deaths you’ve witnessed, and brought along others, you still don’t feel comfortable with death. Your own father lays here, and the thought saddens you. He would have liked the life in Jackson, of that you were sure. But he got infected shortly before you made it here, and shot himself to prevent loosing his mind. Tommy and Jesse were the ones to help you carry his body into the camp and carve his tombstone. Joel and Ellie showed you around, taking you in and looking after you while you were still adjusting to your new life and making friends. Maybe that’s why you feel so strongly for Joel, and connect the most with Ellie. Joel, you wonder how he’s holding up. You could stop by his house and pay him a short visit, just to see if he’s alright. If he doesn’t want to see you, you can still go home and hate yourself for ever going. But at least you’d know he´s fine. Mind made up, you turn right instead of taking your usual path home. Joels house isn’t all too far away, and you feel your heartbeat speeding up as you leave another row of houses behind you. Maybe he´s already asleep, you think. But when you make it to his driveway and hear the strumming of his guitar, you know he´s not. Fixing your hair and blouse with your trembling hands, you breathe in and walk towards his porch. There he is, sitting beneath the faint lightning of his lamp, dressed in Jeans and a light brown jacket. He has his head down, pulling on the strings with his long fingers. You listen to the melody he´s playing, and bite your lip when he starts humming a song you don’t recognize. Coming out of the shadow, you clear your throat and make him look up, music dying in an instant. “Hi.“ You say breathless, voice soft and sweet. Joel puts his guitar down and blushes, scratching his neck. „Hi.“ He says back, eyes finally meeting yours. “You heard me sing?“ He asks, hand pointing to his guitar. You just nod and slowly make your way up the steps, dry wood creaking beneath your feet. “Yeah, I didn’t know you could sing.“ You dig your hands into the pockets of your jeans, and Joel watches how your blouse flatters in the wind. “It´s not singing, but I’m glad you didn’t laugh.“ Joel chuckles and you exhale audibly, nerves slowly calming down. He´s not sending me home. “How are you?“ You ask, head tilting slightly to the side. Joel gets up and slowly walks over to you, resting his body against the railing. From this angle he looks younger than usual, and you can´t help it but stare at him. “I uh, did a lot of thinking the past days. Given the time I had due to my cold.“ Joel looks at you with soft eyes and you almost gasp, finding yourself trapped in his gaze. “I got you sick?“ You whisper, feeling guilty. Joel breaks eye contact and turns around to rest his hands on the railing. His face half hidden by shadows, you can´t see his wrinkles and scars, nor the grey hair. He looks handsome, and you wonder what Joel looked like when he actually was your age. Not that he´s not handsome now, the grey hair and scars suit him, but a girl can wonder. “Looks like it. It’s been years since I’ve been this knocked out.“ Joels finger twitch and you watch him caress the wood with his fingertips. “I´m so sorry, I hope you feel better now.“ You start picking on some chapped pieces on the railing, and lower your gaze. “I´m as good as new. You feel better, too?“ Joel looks over to you and you blush under his intense glimpse. “Yeah. As good as new.“ You laugh slightly and Joels lips form into a smile, eyes staring ahead. “What have you been thinking about?“ You ask after some minutes of silence, dying to hear his voice again. “You.“ He states, making you cough in surprise. “Me?“ You ask in disbelief, insecurity tying your stomach in knots again. “It´s just-“ Joel turns his body towards you and you suppress the urge to brush some hair out of his pretty face. “It's been a while since I’ve been with someone. Actually, its been so long, I didn’t even think about it for years.“ Joel briefly looks into your eyes before continuing, mouth opening and closing once. “I don´t know what happened that I’m suddenly thinking about it. Being with someone, I mean.“ Joel shrugs and you reach out, carefully touching his face and brushing your thumb over his temple. “I don´t know how you feel about me, but I know that I like you.“ You confess, hand still resting against his cheek. He doesn’t pull away, so you take it as a good sign and continue. “but I don’t know where this is going, and it scares me.“ You whisper the last part, heart beating painfully inside your chest. He can crush your heart if he wants to, you just gave it to him, a man you’ve known for almost four years. Joel just looks at your face and deep wrinkles form on his forehead, a grumble erupting from his throat. “We can find out.“ He whispers back, voice shaking slightly but still sounding gruff. He grabs your wrist and rests his thumb on your pulse, leaning into your hand. His stubble tickles your palm and you can feel the little hairs bending beneath your hand as you run it along his jaw, taking in every small detail of his face. “I really like you.“ You mumble, entranced by his eyes that almost appear black due to the lack of light. “I really like you, too.“ Joel slides his hand over the railing so your fingers touch, and covers your fingertips with his own. They feel warm and rough, a nice contrast to your cold and soft ones. “Do you want to come inside, have a coffee with me?“ Joel looks at your intertwined fingers and your stomach does a flip. “You have coffee? Where did you get that?“ Your mouth pulled into a half smile, Joel pushes himself away from the railing and lets his hand slide from yours. He grabs his guitar and opens his door, waiting for you to step inside. “The people that came here last week-“He starts while you slip past him, shoulder brushing his chest. “They had some coffee with them. I´m kinda embarrassed what I had to give them in exchange, but it’s not too bad.“ He closes the door and peels of his jacket, hanging it onto a hanger on the wall, guitar resting next to it. You try not to look around too much, and wring your hands together instead, waiting for him to guide you into the kitchen. “What did you trade?“ “I´m not telling you that.“ Joel laughs and you frown, but it disappears as soon as he touches your lower back. “This way.“ He gently pushes you forward and into his kitchen, slipping his arm around your waist and resting you against the counter. “Your house is nice.“ You say, growing hot under his touch. “Ellie helped me decorate it.“ Joel squeezes your hip before pulling away and boiling some water, back turned towards you. His shirt clings onto his bicep and stretches at the back, making it hard for you to look away. It’s been a while since you got close with a man, and to see Joel like that sure does things to you. You lick your lips and try to keep your thoughts innocent, but your mind and heart where drowning in Joel. It sounds pathetic, but he is all you could think about at the moment. “liking what you see?“Joel turns around and catches you staring, an amused smile on his lips. You feel like he purposefully flexes his bicep and you groan. “Stop being a tease.“ You look away, heart swelling at Joels laughter. “It´s nice to know I still got it in me.“ Joel says, making you furrow you brows. “Got what in you?“ You ask, hands cupping the counter behind you. “making woman weak in their knees.“ Joel lifts the kettle from the oven and fills two mugs with the boiling liquid. “Now you’re getting cocky.“ You joke, embarrassment vanishing at the playful atmosphere. “Oh yeah, so there’s no reason you’re holding onto that counter?“ Joel quickly traps you in place, knee bumping between your legs. Your hands automatically find their way to his chest and you wonder Do I now get to do this whenever I want?

“That was an awful pun.“ You shake your head, voice slowly getting stuck in your throat. “No pun intended.“ Joel mumbles, making nonsense but you don’t care anyways. What you care about are his strong hands on your hip, lifting you on the counter until he stands in between your legs. The Mable is cold beneath your bum and you jump forward slightly, wrapping your legs around Joels hip. Your fronts press together and his breath mingles with your own, lips almost touching. “You drive me mad.“ Joel´s lip ghosts your cupids bow and you tilt your head back to feel his lips on yours. “makes two of us.“ With that, you wrap your arms around his neck and burry your hand into his thick hair, pulling on the greying strands. Your legs hooked behind his hip, you push your heels into his lower back and inch him even closer. You can feel his arms tense as they wrap around your middle and eagerly pull on your blouse, revealing your soft flesh. “Arm´s up.“ You mumble, mimicking Joels actions and pulling on his shirt while your tongues dance together. He obliges and lifts his arms, shirt flying somewhere near the living room. You wish you could take some time and just look at him, take everything in, but there’s no time as his mouth is already attacking yours again with hot kisses. All the small grunts you emit from him sound like honey in your ears, and you grind against him, cheeks burning up. “Your turn.“ Joel groans, impatiently toying with the buttons on your blouse until he has them all open and slides the fabric of your shoulder. There you are, sitting only in jeans and your bra, chest rising and falling rapidly. “You´re so pretty.“ Joel kisses you again and works his fingers on your bra, slowly trying to unhook it. He gets stuck with the last bit and you help him, a giggle escaping your lips. Joel laughs and leans his forehead against yours. “I told you its been a while.“ He runs his thumb along your breast and you shiver, arching into him. “It´s been a while for me, too.“ Your hand slowly creeps towards the center of his jeans, sneakily slipping between your two bodies and opening the front. Joel sighs heavily and hides his face in your neck, sucking on the sensitive skin. You feel him grow in your palm and the heat in your core gets unbearable, so you rub yourself against his thigh in need for some release. “Let me touch-“ The slamming of the front door cuts through Joels words and you pull your hands out of his jeans, immediately going to cover up yourself. Joel looks around confused and shields you with his body, trying to make out the source of the noise. “Joel? Are you there I- Oh shit!“ Tommy walks in and covers his eyes when he sees you, half naked on the counter. He turns around and stifles a laugh, hand wiping under his nose while he rocks back and forth on his heels. “I guess you need that.“ He bends forward and throws Joels shirt at you, another laugh slipping past his lips. “Take it.“ Joel softly pulls it over your head and you slip your arms trough, eyes scanning the floor for your blouse but you can´t find it. Joel crosses his arms in front of his chest and leans against the counter, an annoyed expression on his face. “This is so embarrassing.“ You whisper, hiding your face behind your hands and slipping away from Joel, toes touching the ground again. “Tommy?“ Joel growls impatiently, mad at his brother for ruining the moment. “Can I turn around without seeing something I shouldn’t see?“ Tommy cranes his neck and you rub your temple. “Oh my god.“ You fix your hair and Joel seems uncomfortable as well, torso exposed to the air that suddenly doesn’t feel so hot anymore. “Joel and Y/N, what a surprise.“ Tommys voice drips with sarcasm and you groan, wishing for the earth to swallow you. “What do you want, Tommy?“ Joel gives you an apologetic look and Tommy hides his hands in his pockets. “I wanted to talk with you about furthering securing the gates, but I see you’re busy.“ He looks over to you and casually waves, finding your embarrassment more than amusing. “That´s alright, I was about to, ehm.“ You cough and search for your bra, without success. “Looking for this?“ Tommy points to his left and you nod, rushing to collect your bra. “I was about to leave, anyways.“ You finish, cringing at your own lie. With the piece of lace in your hands and Joels shirt around your body, you storm out of the door without looking back. Could it have gone any worse?

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havenoffandoms · 5 years ago

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Hi! A little idea for your requests, if you don’t mind. A Jaskier x Geralt : Jaskier feels finally brave enough to confess his undying love to Geralt but each time he tries, something gets in the way. Yennefer and Ciri support him and even try to help (successfully or not). Fun and fluff please !!! I hope you find the idea interesting~ 🌟

Okay, sooooo I may have got slightly carried away with this idea and I won’t apologise for it. Your idea really inspired me and I think it’s the cutest thing. Jaskier and Geralt are just two idiots in love in this one. There is the slighest bit of angst at the end, but the rest is fun and fluff as you wanted it. I hope I did your request justice.

Thanks for your ask! Hope you enjoy the read xx

Warning: teeny tiny bit of angst, fluff, mild swearing, smutty references, and mild canon typical violence

Jaskier was known for many things across the Continent – his ballads, his poetry, his many, many conquests that often got him into trouble (and inspired many, many ballads) – but his bravery was certainly not one of them. The bard was painfully aware of this fact, and he thought that joining Geralt on his adventures would somehow remedy this, but he had been wrong. Nonetheless, after nearly twenty years of pining and admiring the Witcher from a distance, Jaskier had decided to tell Geralt how he truly felt about him. No matter the outcome, Jaskier would tell Geralt and finally get this secret off his chest. He needed to know if Geralt felt the same way and he was ready to face the possibility that Geralt only liked him as a friend. Geralt may live for several centuries, but Jaskier did not have nearly as much time left in this life and had to make the most of the time that he had left. Even if it meant spending that time getting over Geralt…

Jaskier had a plan. He would tell Geralt over dinner, the nicest dinner they could afford, which at present consisted of stale bread, meagre pieces of cheese and some fruit that had seen better days but would do just fine. The location would be wherever Geralt decided to stop for the night on their way to Kaer Morhen. They would likely set camp at the edge of the woods (moonlit dinner, anyone?) and probably start a fire for warmth – that classed as romantic, right? Jaskier knew he could not overthink this too much. He did not have the luxury of waiting until they reached a town with a half-decent inn that offered nice (and most importantly cheap) food. He would have to work with what he had, and at the minute all that mattered was that Geralt knew how Jaskier truly felt about him.

They stopped at the edge of the woods, as Jaskier had anticipated, with the added bonus of the mountain range in the distance backdropping their campsite. The bard noticed the white peaks as the sun set just behind the mountains, casting large shadows over the plains that stretched from their current location all the way to the foot of the mountain range. The surroundings looked nothing short of picturesque – not that Geralt, the big oaf, would notice it! He was too busy unsaddling Roach, gathering sticks for the campfire and gathering his dirty clothes from his back before tossing them on the muddy ground for Jaskier to deal with in the morning, as was usually the case. When the bard’s stomach began rumbling loudly, Geralt finally looked up and his amber eyes rested on his travel companion. He looked irritated, as per usual, but there was something else reflected in his cat-like eyes. Concern, perhaps?

“Here,” Geralt said, his voice gruff and raspy and sending shivers down Jaskier’s spine, “eat this.”

Jaskier barely managed to catch the piece of hard bread with his hands. He watched in a panic as Geralt strapped his swords onto his back and readied himself to leave.

“Wha- where are you going, Geralt?”

“Hunt. We need meat to last us the next couple of days on the road,” the witcher answered without looking at him.

“But… when will you be back?” Jaskier asked, trying not to sound as needy as he felt.

“When I’ve caught something, bard,” Geralt huffed before taking off into the woods without as much as a glance over his shoulder. Jaskier was speechless for a while even after Geralt had disappeared into the dark woods.

Son of a bitch!

***

“I think the best way to Geralt’s heart is through Roach,” Ciri told Jaskier over dinner one night. The young heir to Cintra and the bard had both hit it right off when they had met. Ciri enjoyed his ballads and his poetry, and Jaskier loved teaching her about the history of the Continent, algebra and even taught her one or two songs on his lute. The girl was a natural and he felt it would be a shame to let this talent go to waste. Of course the sword training with Geralt and magic lessons with Yennefer were a lot more glamorous, and Jaskier could not hope to compete with that. Yet, Ciri enjoyed the distraction nonetheless and often used her free time to visit Jaskier. She was like the little sister Jaskier had always wanted but never had.

“I don’t see how that’s helpful…,” Jaskier admitted after a minute of considering Ciri’s words.

“Geralt loves Roach. He has a special bond with her, and I think he trusts her instincts about people more than his own. I think if he were to see you bonding with Roach, he would considerably soften around you.”

Jaskier had to admit he had never thought of that before, but it did not sound like the worst idea. The following day, he decided to follow Ciri’s advice and headed to the stables early in the morning to be sure to beat Geralt to the chase. When he arrived near Roach’s stall he noticed that the mare’s ears perked up when she saw him coming. Jaskier made soft clicking noises as he brought his hand to pet her long head. The mare let out a happy snort as she nudged against his hand demanding more pets.

“Hey girl, how are you doing? I know it’s usually Geralt who takes care of you, but today I thought I’d come and say hi myself. You’re awfully more friendly than what Geralt makes you out to be, you know. I always thought the reason I couldn’t ride you was because you’re a temperamental little thing.”

Jaskier chuckled as Roach shook her head and huffed indignantly. The bard looked around the stables and spotted a bucket with brushes, hoof picks and mane combs. Blankets and leading rope hung inside the stall Roach was residing in, right next to her saddle. Jaskier went to grab the bucket and returned to the stall, opening the door gently as to not spook the mare. He entered Roach’s personal space and fished a body brush out of the bucket. He began brushing Roach’s coat, making sure to scrub the sand and dust out of her coarse hair as best as he could. His ministrations seemed to relax the horse judging by her steady heartbeats that Jaskier could feel through her ribcage as he slid his hand along her strong body.

“You know, I never realised how big you actually are, girl. You’re a beautiful girl, aren’t you? And so sweet, too. Your coat is so silky. Geralt takes really good care of you,” Jaskier mused as he worked one side of Roach’s body.

“Of course I do,” a deep voice interrupted Jaskier’s actions and made him jump out of his skin, “Roach works hard when we’re on the road hunting monsters. The very least I can do is make sure she’s as comfortable as possible.” Geralt stared at Jaskier with a half-smile on his lips, his eyes soft as he watched the bard pamper Roach. Jaskier was not used to that kind of expression on the witcher’s face. The last time he had seen such kindness in Geralt’s eyes had been at princess Pavetta’s engagement festivities right after the witcher had saved him from yet another cuckold husband’s ire.

“I… I didn’t hear you come in,” Jaskier said, returning his attention to Roach and willing his racing heart to calm down. Geralt grabbed a second body brush from the bucket and got working on Roach’s coat as well. The mare let out a pleased snort at having both men take care of her.

“You were so lost in your own world that a troll choir could have burst into the stables and would’ve escaped your notice,” Geralt jested, making Jaskier stop in his tracks.

“My, my, Geralt, was this a joke? Who knew witchers have a sense of humour?”

“She likes you, you know?” Geralt commented, ignoring Jaskier’s sarcastic comment. The bard blushed at those words, and he was unsure how to respond.

“I like her, too. Despite her grumpy owner, she’s a surprisingly tame horse.”

“Hm… maybe it’s a blessing that she can’t hear your incessant singing,” Geralt teased, but his tone was light which told Jaskier that he was looking for a reaction. The bard was certainly not going to rise to the bait.

“My incessant singing is probably a nice change from the monosyllabic grunts she hears on a daily basis.”

Well, he tried not to rise at least. Jaskier dropped the brush in the bucket and retrieved the hoof pick. He kept a hand on Roach’s flank and allowed it to travel to her rump and down her leg to make her aware of where he was going. He pulled her leg up between his thighs and began picking out the dirt from between her hooves. Now was the time or never to tell Geralt how he felt about him, while they were both alone in the deserted stables and where no one could witness his humiliation if Geralt rejected him. Pull yourself together, Jask.

Deep breath in – 1, 2, 3 – and deep breath out. Go.

Just as Jaskier opened his mouth, he noticed Roach’s tail rise slightly out of the corner of his eyes. The movement distracted him long enough to momentarily forget about his intentions and before he had time to react, he felt a heavy weight land on the back of his head. Next thing he knew the stall was filled by loud and rich laughter and the stench of horse shit which had just landed on Jaskier. The bard stood frozen in place, unable to move and not wanting to believe what had just happened to him.

On the other hand, Geralt’s laughter was a sound that Jaskier wished he could bottle up and keep forever.

“Hardy-har-har… really funny, Geralt,” Jaskier mumbled under his breath as he stepped away from the mare and glared at the witcher, who was wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

“Sorry, it’s just…,” Geralt could not even finish his sentence before he was assaulted by another fit of giggles that brought fresh tears to his amber eyes. Well, Jaskier could definitely not tell him now… that would just look plain stupid.

“Yeah, I get it. Well, don’t just stand there! Help me!” Jaskier urged the witcher, who could barely contain his hilarity.

“Oh Jaskier… I haven’t laughed like this in a long time.”

Somehow, those words brought Jaskier joy despite the overwhelming humiliation he felt.

***

“Yennefer, pleaaaaase,” Jaskier pleaded the sorceress, dragging out the vowels as much as he could and ignoring the irritated eye-roll.

“Oh fine, whatever it takes to get you to finally shut up about Geralt and let me get back to my work!” Yennefer snapped at him, slamming her book shut with enough force to make the entire desk rattle in protest. Jaskier smiled brightly at her.

“You have no idea how much this means to me, Yen. My other attempts have failed dramatically.”

“So I have heard,” Yennefer said, a nasty smile appearing on her lips, “the smell of horseshit will follow you for the next months I can sense it.”

“Geralt told you, huh?” Jaskier guessed, feeling embarrassed at his expense all over again. Yennefer nodded, biting back the laughter that threatened to push past her lips.

“He told me and Ciri, and Ciri then told me what you had planned that day. I must admit that I felt slightly bad for you. So I’ll help you just because I’m sick of you and Geralt beating around the bush like blushing maidens who are too shy to tell her crush how she feels.”

“Wait, what do you mean Geralt and me... do you think that... he likes me back?”

Jaskier was concerned that if Yennefer rolled her eyes any harder they would stay stuck like this forever.

“Yes, dummy. Geralt is head over heels with you, how have you never noticed this before?”

“But... I...,” Jaskier was not too sure where he was going with this sentence, but as it seemed Yennefer was in no mood to wait any longer than necessary.

"If we’re going to do this, you need to do this my way, understood?”

Jaskier had a funny feeling that he would come to regret trusting Yennefer, but what other choice did he have?

“What have you got in mind?” he asked her, insecurity lacing his tone.

“Let’s just say we’ll have to hit where it hurts…,” she told him mysteriously, her smile growing more wicked and not exactly filling Jaskier with confidence.

***

Geralt grinded his teeth at the sight of Jaskier and Lambert in such close proximity. Vesemir had insisted that everyone stay several nights longer at Kaer Morhen and enjoy a feast together to celebrate the witchers returning to their former keep. There was plenty of food and ale to please everyone, and while Geralt thought he would take the opportunity to get drunk and finally admit his feelings to Jaskier, he had certainly not anticipated this turn of events. Ciri was sitting next to him but seemed blissfully unaware of his current emotional state. Why would Jaskier cosy up to Lambert of all people? His jokes were not funny, he had bad breath, not to mention a bad habit of drinking himself into an aggressive mood and physically Lambert had not much going for him either in Geralt’s humble and perfectly objective opinion. So why, oh gods why, was Jaskier looking at him like Lambert had plucked the moon from the sky?

“Aren’t they sweet together?” Yennefer cooed in his ear, only infuriating him further. Geralt barely managed a grunt as he brought his tankard of ale to his lips, took a large swig and all but slammed it back on the table, causing every dish in the vicinity to rattle. Ciri shot Geralt a quizzical side glance, which the witcher ignored.

“Why do I have a feeling that you did something shifty, Yen?” Geralt asked her, his voice barely above a growl as he watched Lambert pull Jaskier onto his lap. The sorceress merely shook her head.

“I don’t know Geralt, but I have to say it’s not your best quality.”

“Is Jaskier snogging Lambert?” Ciri asked, incredulity lacing her tone. Geralt felt every fibre in his body vibrate with anger and his blood boiled in his veins as he watched Lambert’s hand wander over Jaskier’s body like he somehow owned the bard.

Lambert had no fucking right to touch his bard.

Lambert would soon regret his decision to paw Jaskier like he was nothing but a common whore.

“Hey Vesemir,” Geralt was not acknowledging Vesemir but he knew that he had his mentor’s attention nonetheless, “have you ever heard of a witcher developing abilities to fly after undergoing the trials?”

Geralt noticed Yennefer, Ciri and Vesemir eye each other questioningly out of the corner of his eyes. The older witcher looked as puzzled as the rest of them.

“I have never come across such a case, Geralt. Why the interest?”

“Just making sure Lambert won’t survive a fall from my bedroom window,” Geralt announced as he rose from his chair and headed towards where Lambert and Jaskier were sitting. He ignored Vesemir and Yennefer’s protests, his eyes locked on Lambert who seemed to pale when he saw Geralt approach.

“Geralt, to what do I owe the…”

“Knock if off Lambert,” Geralt snapped at him, his anger only amplified by the fact that Lambert still had his arm wrapped around Jaskier, “Jaskier, how about you join me and the others over there…”

Although he had phrased it as a question, Geralt had definitely meant this as an order… something Jaskier picked up on and did not appreciate judging by the indignant expression on his face.

“I like it here, thank you very much.”

Those, as it turned out, had been the wrong words to use. Geralt had to actively calm down his nerves so he would not pummel Lambert to the ground and wipe off that cocky smile off his face.

“You heard the bard, Geralt. So piss off and go huff somewhere else.”

“There’s something I would much rather do,” Geralt said before landing a punch to Lambert’s face.

***

“What was that all about, you big brute?” Jaskier yelled at Geralt as soon as he found the witcher standing on the balcony of his room, brooding by himself as per usual. Geralt did not reply; in fact, he did not even seem to acknowledge Jaskier’s presence, which infuriated the bard to no end. Jaskier grabbed Geralt’s arm and pulled on it with enough force that it attracted Geralt’s attention. The witcher groaned in warning, but at this point Jaskier did not care if he was punched in the stomach. He needed answers.

“I could ask you the same question, bard,” Geralt snapped, his voice low and menacing. His amber eyes narrowed as Jaskier stood toe to toe with him, not showing any willingness to back down.

“I’m allowed to snog whomever I please. You aren’t my father and don’t get to tell me what to do, Geralt!”

This had all gone terribly wrong. Yennefer had suggested making Geralt jealous by flirting with Lamber, and at the time Jaskier thought it was a brilliant idea. He never thought that Geralt would act out like this. Much less give him orders like he had a say in Jaskier’s life and actions.

“I will tell you what to do when it means keeping you safe!” Geralt hissed back at Jaskier, and despite their barely noticeable height difference it felt like the witcher was towering over Jaskier.

“Keep me safe from what? Lambert is your friend, not a vampire or werewolf that you’re hunting. You know what, this was all a terrible idea, I should never have listened to Yennefer and her stupid ideas.” Jaskier did not wait for Geralt’s reply and meant to storm out of the room, but a large hand wrapped around his wrist and pulled him back.

“What do you mean by that?” Geralt demanded to know, but Jaskier was done talking.

“Let go of me, Geralt!”

“Lambert may be my friend, but I know what he’s like. I’ve seen it before. There’s been times where I partnered with him on hunts when we were younger. I saw the way he sweet-talked to women, promised them the world and took them to bed. You… you deserve better than this, Jaskier.”

Geralt’s words caused Jaskier to pause. It did not make sense. Since when did Geralt care who Jaskier went to bed with? And more importantly, since when did he care how these encounters left him feeling?

“This was all Yennefer’s idea. I was never interested in Lambert. I just… wanted to make you jealous,” Jaskier finally admitted, his voice small. He felt like a child who was being scolded. He braced himself for Geralt’s rejection.

“Why did you and Yen want to make me jealous?”

“Because I was sick and tired of seeing you two pining for each other and both being too cowardly to do anything about it,” Yennefer’s voice interrupted their little conversation. Jaskier and Geralt both looked up and saw Yennefer and Ciri standing at the door, wearing the same unimpressed expressions on their faces.

“Yen, stay out of this,” Geralt growled under his breath, but the sorceress merely smiled patronisingly at the witcher.

“Oh Geralt, I am in way too deep at this point. Either you two admit that you have feelings for each other, or I swear to the gods I will not be held responsible for my actions.”

Jaskier gulped audibly at Yennefer’s words, and as soon as Geralt felt his anxiety he pulled the bard closer to him. Geralt positioned himself before Jaskier so he was shielding the bard from Yennefer’s attacks. Yennefer and Ciri cast each other knowing looks at the witcher’s actions.

“I believe my work here is done. Geralt, don’t mess this up.”

With these final words Yennefer and Ciri disappeared leaving Geralt and Jaskier alone. The witcher kept his back turned to the bard, almost as if unwilling to face him now that his dirty little secret was out. Jaskier, on the other hand, could not have felt happier if he tried. Yennefer had been right. Geralt liked him back and that was why he had reacted the way he had upon seeing Lambert and Jaskier together.

“Oh Geralt…,” Jaskier whispered, running his hands along the broad shoulders and down the thick arms, pulling a shudder from the witcher, “and here I was worried that you would reject me.”

Geralt finally turned around at those words and hesitantly placed his hands on Jaskier’s hips, his eyes scanning Jaskier’s face nervously. Without any words being spoken, the witcher leaned closer and placed the softest kiss on the bard’s lips.

That was all the reassurance Jaskier needed as he returned the kiss. Safe to say they would not be leaving Geralt’s room any time soon.

#geralt x jaskier #geralt z rivii #geralt of rivia #jaskier #jaskier x geralt #julian alfred pankratz #the witcher #geraskier

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r00en · 5 years ago

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Still Good Chapter 9

Toshi beat’s himself up over the attack on U.S.J because of course he does. But Aizawa is there to kick him into shape and tell it like it is!

All Might x Reader (Oc)

No warnings this time. Just massive Fluff!!!

He had been given the okay to leave far sooner than expected. Even Young Midoriya was shocked when Recovery Girl gave into Toshi’s pestering and let him leave her office. It came with the promise to come back daily for check up’s and a few more rounds of treatment which in all honesty wasn’t the worst trade so he happily accepted the small Nurses demand.

“In truth I don’t think I could keep you here if I tried….she’s been in her office since we got back if you want to go see her.” Recovery Girl had a grim look on her face. The look she only ever seemed to get when a student was seriously hurt. And while she tried her best to assure everyone that Paladin wasn’t seriously injured and would most likely recover just fine with time she herself couldn’t shake that dark cloud of worry that hung in her office. Lingering between her two current patients and herself. “She’s still my granddaughter after all….” The poor woman and been rushing back and forth between offices for the better part of two days. Refusing to let Toshi recover next to Paladin for ‘personal’ reasons. In truth it was because his anger bubbled up in his throat every time he so much as thought about the state she was in. Knuckles white against the bed sheets and teeth clenched so hard it worried his doctor and student both.

Toshi thanked her from her help yet again. Suffering through a bit of light scolding for going too far and refusing to keep up his rest. His arms were heavily wrapped as was his side. He could feel the new scar already pulling tight against healthy skin. Another discomfort he would be forced to live with. A dark reminder of the day he wouldn’t be able to forget any time soon. His footsteps seemed louder than usual as he walked down the empty halls of the school. He kept his mind busy, prepped himself for what he might see when he walked into that office. Counted his foot falls to think of anything but the flashes of her mangled body and bloodied face. It wasn’t working. They came in waves like a fever dream. Creeping in the back of his mind when all he wanted to do was remember her smile and hear her little laugh all that seeped through what her broken bones and bubbled choke.

His hand rubbed against his tired eyes. The cloth of the bandages itching the skin of his cheeks. He could go home, distance himself. If he walked away she wouldn’t get hurt again. At least not physical. He could ignore her, be short and blunt and professional. Pretend that the torch he carried wasn’t burning just as brightly as it had from that first day. His fingers hovered near the door, clenching and clenching like he hadn’t made a decision yet. He would see her he decided. One last time while she was asleep. At least have one last memory of a peaceful look on her face before he punished himself with this new plan.

If he could make her hate him maybe that would be easier. Let that be the divide between them that let her move on to a safer relationship. “She already does…’” he muttered to himself. Sure of his words. “You let this happen. You couldn’t protect the one damn person you promised to….god damn it.” He wasn’t sure how long he had been standing there. Wasn’t aware when someone came sulking up behind him with a gruff grunt of displeasure.

“You gonna stand there all day beating yourself up or are you going to move?”

The voice jerked him from his self hate session and almost sent him into a mild panic attack. Jumping nearly a foot in the air Toshi spun around to come face to face with what appeared to be a mummy. Upon closer inspection it was just Aziawa. 'That’s so much worse!’ he whined. Secretly wishing it really was a horror creature rather than his fellow teacher. “You gonna move or what?” A blunt and angry sounding as ever. “…..Sorry were you going to-” “No. I already saw her. They kept me down here with her during my recovery.” Of course they did. It made more sense after all. There was much to discus between Young Midoriya and himself and apparently Aizawa had been unconscious for at least a day. Let them rest in a quiet room. It would do neither of them any good to have Toshi fussing in the corner.

The two men stood there at a slight impasse. If Aizawa didn’t want to get in the room then why did he bother stopping? Was he couldn’t to lay into him as well? Tell him how he was late to the rescue and all this could have been avoided. 'It wouldn’t be undeserved….it was your own selfish obsession with being the hero that caused all this. And when they needed you most you were-’ “Thank you.”

Toshi sputtered, blood spewing from between he teeth as he tried to catch the undignified act with his sleeve. Aziawa grumbled, unable to wipe the little bit that splattered on his nice fresh wraps but was kind enough to endure it. “I-I’m sorry?”

“I’m saying thank you. You’re not that old I know you can still hear….” He deserved that, the mild jab almost sounded lighthearted coming from his grumpy coworker. “I know you’re beat yourself up over this mess. Don’t. There is no way you could have foreseen the villains attack, nothing you could have done to stop it. They were going to show up one way or the other. It’s not on you.” Toshi wanted to argue, in fact he opened his mouth to do just that but was quickly silenced by the red eyed glare that was quickly leveled at him. “And stop treating Paladin like some delicate flower you need to protect. She’s a pro hero and an adult. You can’t baby her. She wouldn’t stand for that.” These hard truths felt like cold water splashed in his face. This whole time Toshi was being a different kind of selfish. His feelings, his emotions, his outcomes to his horrible fragility were all he could think about. Paladin, Aizawa and 13 all did their job and put their lives on the line to save their students and he was sitting around having a pitty party for himself. Ready to ruin his relationships and hide himself away from a shame he burdened himself with. No one else.

His shoulders slumped as he looked back at the closed office door. The lie that she wouldn’t be hurt if he stepped away felt raw now. She would be. Emotionally at least. Toshi knew where they stood, only their awkward fumbling and social inexperience getting in the way of honest feelings and action. He really would hurt her if he went through with such a horrible plan. 'Selfish….’

A hard smack with what felt like a solid block of rock knocked him hard on the head and nearly sent him tumbling. “W-what! Jeez what was that for!” Aizawa’s cast was held high enough to reach the lanky mans head, even if he had to stand on his toes to reach. “You’re an idiot. No wonder she likes you so much.” Righting himself and slipping his cast back into it’s sling Aizawa took a step back and looked out at the courtyard through the hall windows. The orange glow of the setting sun casting their long shadows against the wall behind them, slightly twisted from the relaxation of the glass. “I’m only going to say this once. If you walk into that office and start blaming yourself you’re going to upset her. If you keep dancing around your feelings, hating yourself like this things are only going to get worse. You’ll sink deeper into that dark place you keep sneaking off to when ever something bad happens….or when ever you doubt your feelings for her."

That hit Toshi like a brick...or a cast. Even Aizawa figured out so much so quickly. Was it really written so clearly on his face? "How did you-” “You get this look. You’ll stare at her with puppy dog eyes for hours on end and suddenly look like you’ve been hit by a truck…or you saw someone kick a puppy…” The dark haired teacher gave a shrug. “I couldn’t care one way or the other what you do. But if she wakes up and see’s you with that face she’s going to hit you.” Toshi shrunk back, raking his fingers through his sagging bangs letting out a small huff. Aizawa turned on his heels and headed down the hall, giving the worried hero another shrug as he passed. “Do or don’t it’s up to you. You both annoying me….” That wasn’t true, Toshi knew Aizawa almost adored the young nurse. He was always hanging around her during classes. Always finding excuses to at least stop by and say hello. He would even accept invitations to drinks for the teachers if she offer herself or was part of the group. To what extent Toshi didn’t truly know but in his own quiet way he knew Aizawa was trying to watch out for his friend. That made him feel mildly better. Sort of…

Once the dark haired man was well of of sight Toshi turned himself back around to face the door. What had he decided to do? Keep going the course and dodging around these strange feelings and emotions that he hardly had a grasp on? Distance himself and block off these feelings, force Paladin to hate him to protect her from all that he was….or better yet all he could no longer be for her? Or take Aizawa’s advice. Move forward. As he slid the door open slowly he still had no idea. No clue what the right answer was. He was almost afraid to look up, afraid to see her prone in bed. Quiet, almost lifeless and damaged. That guilt bubbled in his throat again like hot bile forcing him to swallow hard. His eyes still locked on his feet trying to build up the courage to face even her sleeping form. “Toshi?"

He though he was imagining her soft voice calling out to him. There was no way she was awake, sounding so normal and unharmed. She was a battered mess from the fight, she was broken and bruised and hurt. So very hurt. "I didn’t think you would be up so soon. Aizawa told me about what happened after I blacked out. I’m sorry I couldn’t do more to help….” No she really was talking. Apologizing to him! Of all the people she was the last one who ever needed to utter such nonsense. His head snapped up to see her sitting plain as day, his vision blurred from the tears that were welling in his eyes. Bathed in the orange glow of the widow, smiling at him. “I never was very good at offense, but you know that much. How is your side?” Her words were a muddied mess of white noise to him. Feet moving on their own his long strides had him at her bedside in a second. Lanky bandaged arms wrapped tight around her shoulders and smothered her against his chest. She still smelled like dirt and old blood but he couldn’t care less. Burying his face in her hair he let out a choked and shaky sob of a breath. She was okay. Somehow she was okay. Shocked and confused, but alive.

Her own arms were prone to her side, unsure of how to react to his sudden and rather unexpected burst of emotion. But slowly, ever so slowly she returned his embrace. Hugging his middle gingerly, mindful of his left as she nuzzled into his shirt. “It’s okay…” She whispered, smoothing her hand down his back to try and calm his rattling breaths. “I’m okay…really.” As if he didn’t believe her Toshi sunk to his knees with an almost worrying crack of his joints. With his height he was still eye level, taking her face in his hands and running his eyes over every inch of her that he could. Before he even had time to think, to remind himself that this was not the plan what so ever he rushed forward and captured her lips in the worlds most clumsy kiss. Putting as much of his desperate emotions as he could behind it. It earned him a small squeak of surprise but she wasn’t pulling away, wasn’t shoving him off. In fact after the initial round of shock she seemed to slowly, tentatively kiss him back. They were so careful of each other. So nervous and soft almost afraid to do much but sit there and soak in each others warmth but that was enough. It was more than enough for him. To finally feel her like this. As he pulled away from her, the small pop of their lips leaving each others, eyes locked in a haze it suddenly dawned on him exactly what he had just done. “I-I’m…..oh god I’m so sorry!” His hands flew off her cheeks and to his lap as he bowed low and hard. “I’m so sorry I don’t know what came over me! T-that was so unacceptable! Jeez what the hell was I thinking! you can’t just- I shouldn’t have…I mean I should have asked but-” “Toshi.” The little giggles she gave made him peaked up. Dark eyes catching her with worry and fear. Her own hands gave his thin chin a little tilt and forced him to look back up at her. He complied, having no idea what else he could possibly do. Before he could shy himself away or stand and make a break for it she pressed forward and latched her mouth onto his again. More in control now. Less sloppy and unsure. It was his turn to whimper low in his throat. Hands moving back to her shoulders as if to steady himself. The broke apart slowly this time. Smiling and slightly winded. “I have…wanted to do that for a very long time.” She teased, letting her hands drop back to her lap.

“Really?” He couldn’t image anyone wanted to kiss an old bag of bones like himself. He was all teeth and angles…not soft and beautiful like her. But the grin he got from her had him blushing to his ears. Heat rushing down his neck and even too his shoulders. “W-well alright…would you-! I mean…it seem’s odd to ask now after…that but…would you like-” 'Think!….god damn it Toshi you’re a grown man act like it! You want to be with her, she wants to be with you. Follow the logical, normal social steps. Date, marry, live together. Ask her like a normal person!'

“Toshi?"

"Live together!” His blunder had him clamping a hand over his mouth lest he spit blood all over her clean sheets.

“W-what…you want to live-” “N-no I didn’t mean…well yes one day maybe but….h-hang on!” He pulled back, his chest rattling with wet coughs and desperate heaving trying to catch his breath. She helped, the saint, by rubbing his back carefully and offering some tissues from her side table. He gratefully took them, trying to look at least slightly presentable. Once he was mildly sure all the blood was cleaned from his lips and chin he turned himself back to her. Bowing so low his head almost brushed the mattress of her cot.

“W-will you please…be with me. A-as you’re lover! No…boyfriend? That sounds so….what I mean is…” Taking a shaking breath he pulled himself up, trying to ignore her little giggles at his odd and sudden display. His hands took her’s tightly. Holding them close to his chest. Those bright blue eyes shining as he finial managed to meet her gaze. “Please, I want to be with you. Fully and honestly. No more hiding my feelings, no more doubt. If you’ll have me….” He waited, watched the strange emotions run across her face as she pondered his question. Was he wrong? Was this all some strange misunderstanding? Did she not want to be with him. Her fingers moved carefully under his chin, her little thumb coming up to brush away a small spot of blood he must have missed. “I was starting to wonder when you were going to ask properly. Honestly Toshinori there is only so long you can make a girl wait until she starts to give up hope!"

Toshi couldn’t tell if she was joking. Wasn’t sure of much if he was being honest. But she was gracing him with that god damn smile again. Moving forward to rest her forehead against his in a rather soft touch that he quickly found to be one of his favorites. "Perhaps we should wait a bit before moving in together though….” Her teasing eased his racing heart. Lulling him into a much more relaxed state of comfort. This woman was wonderful…..his woman. The thought alone made him shiver as he moved forward to press one last kiss to her lips for good measure. Quick and tender. He had more than enough time to give her more.

“You’ll have to teach me….I’m ashamed to admit I’ve never done this sort of thing before. Being All Might never left much room for personal relationships.” It was tough to admit, a bit shameful really but if he was going to start with anyone he was happen it was his little Paladin. “Well you’re in luck! I happen to have read many teen romance novels as a young girl, so I’m well versed in all things love related to the highest degree of realism. But regardless of all that we can figure it out together….alright?” That sounded nice. He gave a little nod, grinning when she smiled up at him. Happy to spend the rest of his day’s right here like this with her.

His hand brushed down slowly to her neck, feeling the bandages there under his fingertips his worry flared back up. As if remembering the past few days in a sudden rush. Panic twisted his gut and he managed to work himself up so suddenly all over again.

“You’re okay?” He asked, voice broken and fearful. “You really are okay? Does anything hurt? Do you need me to get Recovery Girl?” His fingers smoothed back some hair that he displaced, letting his fingers untangle a few snags he caught. Treating her like glass. So very careful. “God…you were so…” He managed to huff out before hanging his head low. “I wasn’t sure. You were so hurt…so broken and I let-” For the second time today Toshi found himself on the receiving end of a sharp chop to the head. He wasn’t so sure he deserved this one. “Oh don’t even start with that Toshinori! You and I both know none of this was your fault. We are not starting off a relationship with you second guessing and blaming yourself! I’m fine really! See!” She held out her arms, though the left was bandaged up she hardly looked as bad as Young Midoriya or Aizawa. “Grandma was able to heal most of my wounds quick enough and my own quirk took over from there. I woke up last night. There might be some scarring though…it always happens if I don’t heal wounds quick enough.” Her fingers brushed over her shoulder and moved to a spot on her side where Toshi remembered the metal rod had been lodged. His own fingers brushed over that spot carefully, as if checking to be sure the horrible thing wasn’t still there. “She said I’m free to go home when ever I’m able.” He hummed, thankful that she seemed to mend just fine even with all that trauma. He should have known better. Aziawa was right, she was a pro hero and a good one at that. She knew how to handle herself even in the worst situations. Getting himself worked up was only going to effect him. She was fine.

“I’m glad…” He muttered, giving her temple a small peck as he stood. His knees screaming at him for kneeling for so long on the hard floor. He ungracefully plopped himself down in the chair next to her coat, lounging back with a heavy sigh as if he hadn’t truly relaxed until that very moment. He wasn’t sure he really had honestly. So much had happened, so much had kept him up. So much to think about. Paladin reached out carefully taking his hand that was hanging over the arm rest. He gave it a little squeeze, smiling over at her with a tired expression. Even with the horror these last few days had been in this moment right here, right now Toshi was perhaps the happiest he had been in years.

“Let’s go home.” He sighed, refusing to let go of the tiny hand that held so desperately to his.

#mha deku #All Might/Reader #all might x reader #Toshinori x reader #Toshinori Yagi #Recovery Girl #izuku mydoria

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fablesrose · 5 years ago

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Of Kings and Shadows IX

Chapter IX

Description: Y/n, a girl who seems to have found her calling. Being a SHIELD agent is like a dream come true. With a friendship starting to form with the Avengers, she’s the Queen of the world! What could go wrong?

Pairings: Avengers x reader, Loki x reader (eventually)

Notes: On Wattpad –> Here

Series Masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tap tap tap... Tap tap tapada tap...

I sighed, tired of looking at my computer. I resisted the urge to slam my head on the keyboard which could ruin the work I've been looking at for the past couple of hours. It's been two weeks since I've been cleared for active field duty, yet I haven't even been considered for a mission; I was getting restless. I've been training as much as possible and I was nearing the level I was before my... injury.

My boredom was bearable what I had some of the team check up on me, or if I had to deliver some file to the compound. Saying hi to them was usually the highlight of my day. The worst part was when they were on their own missions. Just the fact that I was cooped up in my office while they were out there made me feel even more caged. On those days I've found that more errands were handed to me, to keep me busy I guess, or I would spend even more time in the gym to get me back into action faster.

Today I could tell was not going to be enjoyable, I woke up grumpy, and no one had come to say hi to me yet. I was having a hard time focusing on my work and the minutes were ticking by slower than ever.

A knock came to the door and I sighed, maybe this would wake me up.

"Come in."

I turned in time to see Agent Fletcher enter my office, "Agent," he said with a nod.

"Sir," I replied seeing the files he had in his hand.

He wordlessly handed me the folder he had in his hand only for me to discover he had handed me two files.

"Two files this time..." I quickly tapped them together on my desk before looking up at Brian, "I'm assuming these are for the Avengers; I'll get these to them right away, sir."

"Actually," I could have almost sworn the corners of his mouth turned up slightly, "that top file is for you."

I looked at him and then the file puzzled, "what?" I opened the folder to see my name on the top, along with a briefing time. The papers behind had a bunch of information on a target area, only then did it really click. I raised my eyes to him with hope and questioning happiness, "really? Is, is this what I think it is?"

He gave a silent nod and I just smiled and tipped my head back against my chair, silently smiling at the ceiling. I sat up straight again, "thank you, sir."

"That other file has to go to the Avengers, so get on that," he said sternly pulling me down from my excitement.

I scrambled to my feet and snapped a salute, "yes, sir!" He exited my office leaving the door open for me to follow.

Before I left he popped his head back into my office, "Before you go," I turned back to him, "Fury needs to see you before you go through the mission."

I paused, suddenly nervous. "Me?"

He nodded and then hesitated a moment before asking, "would you like me to walk you down to his office?"

I took a deep breath, trying to see if he was being sincere. I couldn't find a reason to doubt him and decided to accept the offer with a nod.

We walked silently down the hall, stepping in time to each other, posture straight. We eventually got to his office, but I didn't go in right away. I stood at the door and took a deep breath to calm my nerves.

"Are you going to be okay in there?"

I appreciated how he seemed to understand how scary a man in power is to a woman. I turned my head slightly towards him as he stood behind me to show I acknowledged his statement. I nodded my head once and turned back towards the door. I quickly shook out my limbs releasing the tension in them.

"I'll be here waiting."

I smiled at him, "Thank you, sir."

I finally had the confidence to knock on the door, answered with a gruff, "come in!"

I respectfully entered the room and stood in front of his desk as he looked out the window behind it dramatically.

"Did you have a hard time getting here, Agent L/n?"

I was a little surprised at the question, "no, sir. Agent Fletcher accompanied me here."

He nodded, "he's a good agent."

"Yes, sir."

He finally turned to face me and gestured to a seat as he took his own. "I trust Agent Fletcher gave you your mission assignment before escorting you to my office?"

"Indeed he did, sir."

"Did you have time to look over it?"

"Only a glance."

He placed his hands fisted together on the desk between us and leaned towards me, "that brings us to what I wanted to talk to you about. Missions are important as I'm sure you already know."

I shifted in my seat to sit a little taller as I nodded my head.

"I would like for them to not get messed up for reasons of our own."

That's what made me start to sweat. Did he think I was going to mess up this mission?

"I don't want any unnecessary tension that puts the team in danger."

I nodded quickly and looked down at my lap; I felt like I was sitting through a lecture.

"I also don't want you to be scared of the assets you will be directing."

My eyes snapped up to his.

"I'm assuming you didn't get the chance to see exactly what your role will be or who you will be working with so I will just tell you."

My brain was having a hard time processing this whole situation, so I just blinked a couple of times waiting for him to continue.

"You will be on drone surveillance, you were doing good work there."

I smiled at the compliment.

"The Avengers will be under your care, which you have already handled, but what I'm worried about is that Loki will also be working the mission."

I felt conflicting relief and slight anxiety at what Fury was saying. I would have to watch over the Avengers which I was confident in doing, but also Loki of whom had caused me so much pain and grief. Realistically I knew I would do it just fine since after everything was explained the two of us hadn't had any confrontations, but it didn't stop the little voice in my head from questioning.

This is a whole new environment. Tensions are high, it's near life and death. This could be an opportunity to really hurt him. Show him what it's like to be under the power of someone you can't touch.

I shook my head slightly to clear it, focusing on Fury once more.

He looked at me for a moment before continuing, "Will his being there inhibit your ability to function?"

I took a moment to think before asking a question of my own, "what would be your course of action if I said yes?"

The constant pauses between each of our responses weren't being nice to my blood pressure, but there wasn't anything I could do about it. This stretch of silence was particularly worrisome after the question I asked.

"The two of you wouldn't be put on the same mission until you trust him to say otherwise, if at all."

I thought it was a reasonable answer and fair to me if he truly meant it and executed it accordingly. I already knew my answer to his question, but I just thought I would see his standpoint.

I sat still with a face I hope said confidence and answered him.

"How'd it go?"

I had forgotten that Brian waited for me to come out of Fury's office. I honestly felt lighter than when I had woken up this morning, so I was able to smile at him. "It went well. Now, I better get that file to the Avengers if it's all the same to you, sir."

"Of course."

He walked me back to my office and I left him with a smile to show I appreciated his support. I quickly picked up the Avengers' file and headed to the compound. I decided to give the file to Steve since he was probably the most responsible to get the information to the rest of the team. Jarvis lead me to the training room where I found the Captain beating a punching bag. I stood in a spot a little distance away, but still in his line of sight so he knew I was there without disturbing him. After a minute or two, he took a water break and made his way over to me.

"Mr. Rogers--"

"Steve, you make me feel old when you say that."

I raised my eyebrow about to throw a jab at him before he caught his mistake.

"I know, I know, I'm a senior citizen, but that doesn't mean I have to feel it, gosh."

I let out a quick laugh and held out the file, "well, Steve, here's the file for the team's next mission."

"Thank you, Y/n," he quickly flipped through it, "how are you doing? Still cooped up in that office of yours?"

"At the moment I'm afraid."

Steve hummed and looked up at me without tilting his head, "don't worry, you'll be out there before you know it."

I smiled and turned on my heal, "much appreciated Captain, have fun on the rest of your workout!"

"See you Y/n!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Another day, another mission for the Avengers. They all had brave faces, but most had lingering feelings at the back of their heads. Clint was a bit bored and felt bad that they were going on another mission while Y/n was stuck in her office, not in the field. Natasha felt similar -- she knew how hard she had been working, only for her to still be stuck going nowhere. Steve understood how having physical ailments can hold someone back from what they really need and want to do, so he had the greatest sympathy for her. Tony knew that this mission was serious, every Hydra base taken down was an important step closer to taking the whole agency down, but he couldn't help wanting to just get it over with. He wished Y/n was there with a few witty remarks to keep him entertained.

Thor, on the other hand, couldn't wrap his head around why it was that much of a big deal. Of course, he felt bad that she was injured and was not able to go to battle, but with such a different outlook on time, the time taken to heal seems like nothing to him. Bruce didn't understand how anyone wanted to go out on one of these missions, so while he expressed sympathy to the injury and recovery, he didn't wish she was there. The only thing on Loki's mind was that he didn't want to come, but he knew he had to or else he would be locked up some way or another because he still wasn't trusted by the Midguardians.

With that in mind, they acknowledged the commanding Shield agents and boarded their Quinjet. These larger missions required a larger cargo capacity, so they usually split up into at least two vehicles: one for the Avengers and the others for Shield agents. The team spent most of the commute in silence or quiet chatting, living together didn't leave much to be talked about. About halfway through they received word to turn on comms for some last-minute instructions and equipment checks.

Everyone went through the checks half-heartedly mostly just going through the motions. If the agents on the other end noticed, they didn't comment.

Brian Fletcher was the agent in charge and was handing out the orders, "all right folks, we got a drone accompanied mission today so make sure you listen to her, got anything to add Agent?"

"Yeah," a familiar voice came through the comms causing everyone in the Quinjet to perk up.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I couldn't help but smirk as I leaned back in my chair, looking at Brian, "don't be stupid and don't die."

There was a split second of silence that left Brian with a smirk that mirrored my own before I got the expected (and hoped) explosion of voices.

"Y/n?! Is that you?!"

"Welcome back!"

"Hey! There she is!"

"Yeeeeeeesssss!"

"Told ya you'd be back in it before you knew it."

"It's great to have you back, y/n"

I was smiling like a dork when one more voice came quietly into my ear, "I'm glad your recovery has been successful, Lady Y/n."

"That's a new title, thanks Loki. It's great to be back guys, and I'm serious! Don't be stupid, and don't die!"

The laughed, and I switched our comms line to a more private one where we could chat without all of the Shield agents be silent bystanders. I fiddled to get my display just right while I related the story of my assignment carefully leaving out the reason for Fury's concern for me being on this mission. The conversation mostly consisted of Clint, Tony, and me with an occasional comment from the others. The time flew by much faster than normal and suddenly we were nearing the target.

We landed and quickly got to work setting up all the equipment. I helped pull out the drones, and noticed Ike was checking them over.

"Hey Ike, are they lookin' okay?"

He looked up at me and with no emotion said, "ready for flight."

"Sweet, let's get them going then."

I did notice that after going over the manual and learning more about the mechanics was interesting as I could now mostly understand how they work. The drones were up in no time, and I linked them to the comms unit of each team leader.

My gut twisted slightly right before I heard the heavy footsteps and the hum of machinery behind me.

"If there's a scratch on this suit at the end of the day..."

I smiled and turned around to see Tony walking towards me. The rest of the Avengers weren't that far behind.

"You'll what?"

I glanced to see the rest of them smiling at the exchange, all either experienced or heard of the incident. Loki did not, however, seem to understand what was going on and rather seemed bored, but was listening anyway.

Tony couldn't help chuckle with a smirk, "I'll blow one of those drones of yours out of the sky."

"Not my money you're spending."

Thor, Clint, and Tony all roared with laughter and squeezed me into a hug. Natasha, Steve, and Bruce (now Hulk) all smiled in amusement in the background. Loki turned out, surprisingly, to split the difference, he stayed back, but he had a grin and a laugh at the quip against Tony.

"All right! All right! Let's get going! The longer we take the more work we've got to do!"

They all set off to their positions and I left to mine in the jet. I sat down and made sure all the feeds were online before I allowed myself to get into game mode. Watching each team advance on the Hydra base, it felt like I had never left.

The mission played out much like the ones before it, I would notify each group of enemy snipers, patrols, or other threatening objects. That was until the Avengers, the leading group, ran into a large barricade of Hydra opposition. I, of course, warned them beforehand, but it didn't change how hard of a fight it ended up being. The Shield agent teams slowly eased themselves around and behind the Hydra agents and even had to open another front. The Avengers were split up, unfortunately, but they're strong enough to hold their own separately.

I didn't worry about the Hulk, he was taking out the large weaponry with ease. Clint got up into a tree without me noticing and was shooting down soldiers and snipers alike, I occasionally had to inform him of one or two more that had him in their sights, but other than that he had himself covered. Natasha was watching Steve's back, and he was watching hers, they were in the heat of battle and didn't have to worry about anything except in their immediate vicinity which they were already aware of. Thor and Tony were wreaking havoc from the air and with the Hulk taking out all of their large weaponry including air defenses they didn't have an important enough target on their back.

Loki was a unique case, he was on his own, and it wasn't even close to a fair match. I couldn't even count how many men were surrounding him, all armed with advanced weaponry. They had drawn him far away from any help, not that anyone was available to give it. The drone obviously didn't give me a perfect perspective, but from what I could see, they all were nearly as tall as Loki was. Their dark and thick uniforms were nothing but menacing, masks designed to terrify. they had guns as tall as I was, evidence of what kind of damage they could do was evident in the trees surrounding the battle. The bark was scorched if it was even there at all. Some of the trees I questioned how they were even still standing as much was blown to splinters. They surrounded Loki on all sides, walls of bulk that guaranteed pain.

I almost felt bad for them.

Loki was tearing them to shreds, various weapons used. Knives lined with a green sheen that suggested magic, each stroke a death blow. Wisps of magic would extend and cause more damage, sometimes he would disappear entirely. It really was a sight to behold and I had to make sure I didn't get distracted at how graceful, deadly, and just plain cool it was.

He seemed to be taking care of himself just fine, so I was about to move on to check on everyone else when I caught something out of the corner of my eye. It was a lone sniper in a tree and his gun was aimed at Loki. He was out of range and sight from Clint from what I could tell and besides that everyone else was occupied. I was about to warn him when I hesitated. Those thoughts from before arose again.

He hurt you so badly. He's the equivalent of a god he won't die. Give him a little taste of his own medicine. You have power over him today, don't let it go to waste.

I'm ashamed to say that I didn't feel all that guilty in thinking them.

Being trained in firearms myself, I knew exactly what steps he was taking. He would be steadying his barrel carefully. He would adjust his support slightly, making sure the branch or stand wouldn't bounce and get in the way. I knew he was surrounded by my own men, distracted, and relatively stuck in one spot. My sights would be placed in the average area he was moving, aimed as high as his neck. His helmet could cause problems in killing him quickly, besides, a throat shot works just as well. My breathing is controlled, steady. My finger slowly switches the safety off, now I wait for just the right moment. There's no rush.

I have all the time in the world.

Time slows as fraction by fraction my finger twitches closer and closer to my fist. It moves the trigger smoothly, and with how light my trigger is, he'll be dead in less than a moment. Not even that, I just have to make sure I don't blink.

"Loki, you've got a sniper on your 5 o'clock. Southeast."

I watch as a green shield appears behind him, not even a fraction of a second after I see the muzzle flash from the sniper. I small ripple or spark appears on his shield right as I predicted, just below his helmet. I saw his arm swing around through his shield and then he continued fighting the band around him, though they were beginning to dwindle. The sniper I kept my eye on for him eased forward on his gun, eventually falling limp from the tree. How exactly he died I didn't know.

"Thank you, my dear"

"Of course Your Highness."

I went along watching out for the rest of the teams, occasionally picking up on something they missed, but I was really thinking about my actions.

That's when I came to the conclusion that I had forgiven him.

Tags: @nightrose64

#loki x reader #lokilaufeyson #loki fanfic #avengersfanfiction #avengers x reader #natasharomanoff #clint barton #Steve Rogers #brucebanner #hulk #tony stark #thor #mission #shield #Of Kings and Shadows #chapter9 #forgiveness

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akitokihojo · 6 years ago

Text

The Language He Speaks

I WROTE SOME SMUUUUUUUUUUUUUUT!!!!

I’ve been, like, five months smut-free and I never agreed to those terms and conditions, so here we fucking are!

Note: This takes place post canon, recently after Kagome returns to the Feudal Era.

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

Inuyasha's ember eyes bore through her skin, anger seething from him as he inspected a red-sprinkled-purple bruise on her side, just below her ribcage, tapping it lightly with the pads of his fingers. Kagome knew he was waiting for her to wince as he palpated the thickness of the welt, but she held her breath instead, not wanting to pour gasoline on his already-furious flames. The sound from his throat was basically a growl as he moved onto the next wound, examining the depth of the decently-sized scrape flaked with dried blood at the front of her shoulder.

"You should have listened to me, Kagome." Inuyasha said, disgruntled.

"You've said that, like, twelve times already." She sighed, backing away from his calloused hands so she could wrap her torso within her kosode again. Maybe if he couldn't see the bruises and scratches decorating her upper body, he wouldn't be so angry. Out of sight, out of mind. Or so they say.

"Yeah, and you have yet to acknowledge that I'm right!"

"You're welcome for helping, by the way." She huffed, giving a heavy jerk to the knot of her kosode as she secured it before scooting her way around the hanyou on the wooden floor of their hut to prod the flickering fire in the pit. The air in the room swirled as she practically felt his irritability climb to new heights.

"Kagome, I specifically told you to stay behind for a damn good reason!" The hanyou barked, grasping her arm as he slid closer, demanding her undivided attention. "Fighting demon's isn't like what it used to be! The jewel was their primary goal the last time you shot your arrow at anything, but now it's just pure hatred fueling them! They may not come half as often as before, sure, but when they do, it's a battle for your fucking life!"

"And the more people you have on your side, the better your chances are!"

"No-"

"Besides, they were out for blood when it came to the jewel too! You'd think you'd consider that more dangerous since, you know, Naraku tried to murder us all on multiple occasions."

"It's more dangerous now because more and more are attempting to be the next Naraku! Psychopaths are coming out of the fucking woodwork to kill whoever they need to in order to gain as much power as possible in case another jewel were to forge. They don't know what they're doing, clearly, but that doesn't change what we're up against!" Inuyasha squeezed her arm between his fingers, finally bringing out a wince from Kagome, so she pulled away with an incredulous stare, immediately causing him to release his unforgiving grip.

"I stand by what I said. The more people you have on your side, the better the odds. Why doesn't that makes sense to you?"

Inuyasha could feel anger bubbling in his gut, burning the walls of his stomach as he willed the temptation to lash out down. She was stupid, so fucking stupid, for running into the middle of his and Miroku's fight after he'd deliberately told her to stay with Sango. She had good intentions, but he didn't give a damn about any of that bullshit. He gave a damn about her.

And here she was, poking the charring wood for something to do, intentionally avoiding eye contact, the bruises on her skin standing out to him as if her clothes were translucent. His dumb fucking wife got hurt in the heat of battle after he'd told her word-for-word, "Stay here. I mean it. I don't want you getting hurt."

What a surprise.

With a final growl, Inuyasha shot straight up to his feet, not even bothering to grab Tetsusaiga, which stood propped along the wall, as he marched toward the door.

"Where are you going?" Kagome asked, more confused than irritated.

"Out."

"Are you really that mad?"

"Yes, Kagome, I'm fucking pissed!" He shot, glaring back in her direction as he threw the sliding door open.

"Why is this such a big deal to you?" She stood up, following him outside, the crisp, night breeze rustling leaves in the treetops above their heads. "I used to fight at your side all the time! You used to tell me you felt stronger with me nearby! Just because we were separated for a few years doesn't mean anything's changed! I'm still-"

"Everything has changed, Kagome!" Inuyasha bellowed, stopping mid stride and turning to face her fully, not realizing how close she was actually following. Their bodies were mere inches apart, their argument leaving both of their chests heaving up and down, but her face- Oh, god, her face- had his stomach plummeting from its spot in his abdomen to the forest floor. There was no anger or resentment. It was fear. He'd startled her. Her brown eyes, shadowed by the darkened sky, were wide. Brows raised. Lips parted. Shoulders noticeably tensed.

And he hated it.

He normally loved the way his muscular frame was easily able to hide her petite body, and how she fit so perfectly into the natural curve of his own when they slept together, but suddenly it felt like he was a beast with the way he towered over her, able to consume her whole. The image of her afraid was gone as quickly as it had appeared, but her eyebrows settled and her mouth closed and she took a step back from him, and he could see it so fucking clearly. Kagome didn't understand what he was getting at. How could she? It was obvious she didn't see things the same way he did. He could only imagine, knowing her, the thoughts going through her head as she tried to figure him out. And while she was giving him an opening to elaborate on his point, he couldn't bring himself to talk anymore. It killed him that he'd caused that look to mar the beautiful features of her face, his hand naturally raising to cradle the line of her jaw as his thumb caressed a small, developing bruise at the bottom of her cheek, the wound acting as a magnet to draw his palm in, but he could still feel the underlying anger swarming through his bloodstream. He couldn't fix this right now. If he kept going, he'd say something wrong. He'd make it so much worse.

So, Inuyasha took his hand away, telling her to get inside with the gruff tone of his voice, and shot up onto the nearest tree branch, racing away to let off some steam.

Kagome turned over for the umpteenth time on her futon, bringing her blanket up to cover her head as she tried to block out the sounds of the crackling fire, the logs snapping and popping under the heat of the flames, the noises seemingly emphasized by a megaphone. The left side of her body hurt from the scratches and bruises she'd gotten from landing roughly during their battle, but that was the side that faced the door. That was the side, no matter how many times she turned over, that she found herself laying on as she waited from her grumpy hanyou to come back.

Their argument had been on repeat in her mind, his statement that everything had changed replaying like a dingy, broken record. She couldn't figure out why he was so upset. She'd been hurt so much worse than this in the past. Honestly, the bruises and scrapes just looked bad. Sure, some were a little sensitive, especially if she kept allowing her body weight to apply so much pressure to her left side, but her feet had literally been burnt in stomach acid before. So, why was this such a big deal?

He had a lot of nerve. If she hadn't have come when she did, he could have been stabbed through. This demon was large. Very large. And had quite the set of claws on his thick, dirty fingers that were flying directly at the half demon who was distracted by Miroku's crumpled form. She shot her arrow and nailed the sucker in the arm, which wasn't exactly what she was aiming for, but at least she was able to save Inuyasha. Sure, it'd been a while since Kagome had been up against any sort of enemy other than the target hung on a tree outside of Kaede's hut, and she was undeniably rusty, but how else was she supposed to get reacquainted with fighting off demons?

Everything has changed, Kagome!

What the hell was that supposed to mean?

She readjusted her position once more, settling on her back and throwing her arm above her head as she huffed in irritation, her forearm landing rough enough to tug at the long, dark strands of hair that were sprawled messily over her pillow. The wooden ceiling glowed of soft orange, red, and yellow hues, shadows dancing along to the beat of the popping logs in the pit.

Yes, their relationship had changed. Substantially. They no longer were on a quest for anything pertaining to Naraku or the jewel. That's a change. She lived in the Feudal Era now. Another change. Kagome couldn't quite bring herself to say everything had changed, though. So what in the world could he have been getting at?

There was this strangling thought in the back of her mind, one that had come up the moment he'd shouted his belief, one that brought a dull ache to her chest. With how mad he was, how badly he seemed to not want her in battle with him, it was like Inuyasha didn't want Kagome as his fighting partner anymore. She used to be the person he trusted most, the person who helped him overcome, but apparently three years has shifted everything. Right. Everything.

No.

No, no no.

She was overthinking and allowing these thoughts to make her overly sensitive.

Stop it, Kagome! Pull yourself together!

Slowly, she peeled herself off the futon, giving up on sleep for the time being while she adjusted her parted night robe over her chest and pushed the blankets from her legs, rising to pace the room just as she had done for a good forty-five minutes after he'd first left. Something Kagome could easily point out that hadn't changed, and probably never would, was that she absolutely hated when he stormed off like this. She respected that he needed space when he was angry, but time was simple to lose track of when it was based on the sun's position and they were in the dead of night.

Letting out a deep sigh, Kagome headed toward the door, opening it just enough to see the dense darkness of the surrounding woods. She wasn't great at picking up demonic energy, it was something she'd really have to hone in on in future training sessions with Kaede and Miroku, but that didn't stop her from trying. She was familiar with Inuyasha and the aura he put out. To her, it was masculine, smooth, and soothing. It washed over her like gentle tides of a calm sea, eroding the rough edges she'd developed over the years to become a soft, glistening rock of his ocean. Apparently, he had to be close enough for her to sense it. With how still and silent and unappealing the immediate world outside seemed, Inuyasha was obviously nowhere around.

With a little more aggression than intended, Kagome slammed the wooden slab shut, blocking out the forest grounds that she couldn't see anyway and slumped down next to the fire pit. The flames were dying, but instead of grabbing a new log to feed them, she used her stick to prod the charred wood, forcing pieces to fall apart, allowing the fire to find new territory to claim. She forced herself to watch the bouncing embers, ignoring the door, ignoring her thoughts, pulling her knees to her chest for as much added comfort she could provide herself.

When she'd ran out to help Miroku and Inuyasha, she hadn't done it to upset him. She wasn't doing it solely to defy the half demon. She'd only wanted to help. She'd wanted to make sure he was safe, just as he would have done for her without a second thought.

So, why was that so bad?

Slow footsteps approached the hut, alerting her at the crack of the drying leaves on the dirt, and Kagome's head shot up, waiting for the door to open. She heard a heavy sigh, one released from a clenched throat, just outside of the wooden beams before it steadily slid open with the intention of silence. His golden eyes, meshing with the glowing hues of the fire, collided with hers, his brows pinching together in question before relaxing. He stepped through the threshold, closing the door behind him.

It took a great deal of effort for Kagome to stay put. She wanted to apologize for making him so angry, but what had she done? She wanted to ask what caused him to storm off in the first place, but what if that instigated the continuation of their argument? So she remained seated, allowing her legs to fold to the side, unable to take her eyes from him as she waited for something to happen.

"Why aren't you in bed?" He asked, not moving from his place at the door.

"I couldn't sleep."

He gave a slight nod, his chest rising from beneath his firerat as he slowly sucked in an inhale, his ember eyes shifting to the floor, and then the far wall.

"I'm- uh... I'm sorry. About earlier. I shouldn't have yelled at you."

"So why did you?" Kagome asked, unable to bite back the slight confrontational tone she held. So much for not wanting to argue anymore. He looked back at her, pressing his lips in a tight line as she continued. "What's so different from before that got you all worked up?"

"Everything." He breathed, moving toward her, not willing to fight the urge that pulled him to Kagome's side. "You don't get it, do you? You don't get what's at stake here."

As he sat down beside her, terrible, horrible, unforgiving inches separating them, she felt that aura she'd been missing. Felt it warm her blood and send tingles over her skin as it radiated from his being and engulfed her. Kagome couldn't even bring herself to ask what he meant, hoping he'd fill in the gaps that he, himself, had opened, as the sensation of his spirit puddled in her chest, temporarily quelling the uncertainty that had built up over the hours. How did he do it? How did he have such an effect on her?

"Kagome," Inuyasha scooted a little closer, his knee brushing the hand she braced on the floor. "You can't just go back to your time when you're wounded or exhausted anymore. You don't have your world's powerful medicine and bandages to rely on. You can’t afford to get hurt- especially now more than ever."

"We have herbs." She replied, coming out of her reverie. "Just because they aren't already ground up and processed in a tube, doesn't mean they won't work just as well. That doesn't explain why you got so mad, though."

"I got mad because none of this should've happened in the first place."

"Sometimes people fall down, it's not that big of a deal."

"You didn't fall, Kagome, you were backhanded across the field! If you had just listened to me, you would have been fine!"

"I am fine. I don't have any broken bones, or cuts, and I'm-"

"Shut up." Inuyasha drawled, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms over his chest. "Consider yourself lucky."

"Okay, I'm lucky. Are you happy?" Kagome rolled her eyes, mimicking his body language by crossing her own arms.

"Next time, when I tell you to stay behind, I expect you to listen to me." He ordered.

"No! I'm not about to just wait for you to get back while you're off protecting the village when I can help! You never had a problem with that before! In fact, you used to hate when I went home!"

"That was different!"

"Because I was your jewel shard detector?" She challenged.

"What? No! You know that's not what I thought of you!"

"Then explain, because something isn't clicking here! I used to fight demons with you guys in a freaking skirt, and there was never an issue then!"

"You're missing the entire point! Things are different now!"

"You keep saying that, but it hasn't made any sense yet! I can still fight! I can still help! I didn't just come back for a domestic lifestyle; I knew what I was getting into when I crossed through the well that final time!"

"This was the first demon attack since you've been back, and you were injured! You don't see how much that-"

"I can take it!"

"Kagome-"

"No, listen to me! I'm strong! I'm really strong, and I shouldn't have to convince you of this! My spiritual powers have only grown since I've started my training as a priestess, and I want to help!"

"No!"

"Inuyasha!"

"No!"

"Why not!?"

"Because I can't lose you, Kagome!"

Any rebuttal she'd been prepared with vanished completely, her heart giving a painful thud behind her ribcage. His expression was fierce, his lips peeled back in a partial snarl, eyebrows furrowed together, twitching from how fervently the scowl pressed his features. His eyes were a brutal color, like the fire in the pit beside them burned in his irises and illuminated the room.

"Why are you so stupid? Why aren't you fucking getting this?" Inuyasha slammed his fist against the wood they sat on, using the force to push himself to his feet as he walked to the other side of the room, facing the shadowed wall, taking a few, unsteady breaths to gather his wits. He heard the gentle rustling of the night robe she wore as she rose, the airy hitch from her lungs, felt her eyes on him as she waited in his silence. Finally, he turned back to her, feeling the deadly twist of his face, but he didn't care. As long as his point got across, he didn't give a damn about how he looked. "I've lost you once already! I've experienced that pain, and it's nothing compared to anything I've ever felt before! No matter how many times I checked to see if it had opened, there was still a part of me that thought I'd never get to see you again, but I was willing to accept that because at least you were alive and safe on the other side of that goddamn well!"

He stomped back over to Kagome, grabbing her by the outer edges of her shoulders, feeling a rampant, wild, bubbling heat course through his veins, intensifying the way he suddenly wanted to pull her into his chest and never let go, solidifying his adamant refusal to ever allow her to do anything that could jeopardize her safety again. He swore to protect her years ago, and nothing would ever change that promise, but he needed her to cooperate. He needed her to stop being so frustratingly hard-headed and understand what he was trying to tell her. Kagome didn't tense at all, her brown eyes glistening with concern, a slight flush in her cheeks that he was willing to blame on the diminishing fire, dark shadows forming in the curve just above her cheekbones.

"Face it, you made the worst decision of your life by coming back! It's not safe here! I wasn't worth your well-being; nothing will ever be worth that!"

Kagome opened her mouth to speak, to dispute, but he cut her off with a thick, reverberating growl, his fingers twitching as he controlled his instinct to grip her tighter. "I know I wanted you back, but I was being a selfish fool! I know they're only scratches and bruises this time, but what if something worse were to happen? What if you're attacked while I'm away? What if I can't get to you in time? What if-" Inuyasha's argument faltered as he imagined unspeakable things, his voice fading in and out as he tried to continue, repeating what if multiple times before he gave up with a shake of his head, his chest clenching agonizingly as the thoughts flooded every corner of his mind. Her eyes were watering and her lips were turned down, her chin giving a minute quiver that was causing him to feel even weaker. "Kagome, I can't- I can't..."

"Stop." She quietly pleaded.

Inuyasha's hands moved up to cradle her jaw, her skin emanating the warmth she'd soaked in from sitting so close to the pit. "You don't understand how fucking scared I am of losing you. I can't do it. Not again."

"Stop. Please, stop." Tears seared her cheeks as they glided down, pooling where his flesh met hers, irritating her eyes as she continuously tried blinking them away, but she couldn't. They wouldn't stop. Not for a single second did she imagine this was what Inuyasha hid beneath his thick skin. It was obvious the separation was difficult on the both of them, but they'd never gone into detail about it. It was basically a taboo topic everyone knew to avoid. Invisible wounds were left behind, some healed, some scarred, some still scabbing, but she never realized how deep Inuyasha's ran. It was naive of her to think everything was perfectly fine now that they were together again. He's lost people he loved before. That's not the sort of thing that gets easier each time it happens.

Kagome watched the sincerity, the fear, flicker in the hanyou's eyes, molting with so much emotion she could hardly take it. Like a magnet drawing her in, with the pressing need to help any ailing thoughts fade away, she pushed upward on her toes to close the scant distance between them, gently pressing her lips to his, feeling the heat of the heavy, relieving sigh he exhaled from his nose against her cheek. She pulled back prematurely, still absorbing the effects of his energy colliding with hers, feeling him inch forward so that their foreheads pressed together, his hands trailing down to find her waist, tugging her a little closer.

"I'm so sorry. I never meant to make you worry." She said, her hands curving around the sides of Inuyasha's neck, just below his jawline, fingertips threading into the silver hair at his nape. Her voice was soft and smooth, barely rising above a whisper. "You can't think like that, though. It’s poisonous. You have to believe that we'll be fine, Inuyasha, because we will be. I will never regret my decision to return. The danger of this world was hardly something to worry about when faced with the choice of living a life without you. Don't forget, I lost you too. I know what that pain feels like just as well as you do.”

Inuyasha gripped the cloth of the robe at her sides, the heat of her breath washing over his face and eliminating his train of thought.

"I'm not a delicate girl that needs to be looked after, but if worst comes to worst, I trust you with my life. You know that. I'm not afraid. Not with you here. I fought by your side for so long, protected you, and that's what I plan to continue doing. No matter how roughed up I get. You're just gonna have to get over it." Kagome dragged her hands down the skin of his neck and over his chest, wrapping her fingers in the thick material at the front of Inuyasha's suikan, their mouths moving closer, hovering but never touching.

"I don't like it, Kagome. I won't lose you again." There was a hint of a growl at the edge of his low voice.

"You won't."

"You're so fucking stubborn." His lips teased hers, grazing but not settling.

"You'll get over that, too."

He kissed her, slowly, softly, their lips molding so perfectly to each other's. It started a fire in his chest, one that burned brighter than the pitiful embers they sat next to, and he allowed it to take over, to transform his kiss into something more fervent, more passionate, more powerful, allowed it to sustain the warmth in their little hut away from the village, and ignite the dark thoughts he once had so that they charred into nothing, like kindling. It was easy, so goddamn easy, to forget whatever was happening around them when they touched each other, hands gliding over clothes and skin to feel, to explore, to wander aimlessly until they found an intention. He was lost in her as quickly as his infamous temper swelled on an average day.

The whimper she gave him was tiny, only detectable by ears as sensitive as his, her cheeks still wet and warm. The sound was enough to send a violent flurry through his abdomen and chest, one that he needed to quell, so he pushed her back, using his hand as his guide until he felt the wall beneath his palm, carefully pinning her between his body and the wooden borders of their home.

Inuyasha wasn't good with words. They either didn't work for him, or came out furiously. He was either emotionally stifled, or would say things horribly wrong in a release of his pent up frustration. He was better with his actions. That's how he spoke to Kagome. That's how he'd managed to relay months ago how much he'd missed her, his gratitude, and how deeply invested he still was. He still had so much to say right now, the need for her to understand how he felt growing stronger and stronger with each passing second.

He was so unfathomably glad Kagome comprehended the language he spoke. They had a bond. One that had proven to be unbreakable time and time again, and as he proceeded to crush his mouth to hers, halting their breathing, feeling her cheeks dampened with fresh tears against the tip of his nose, Inuyasha knew his message had been received loud and clear.

He loved her. So goddamn much.

He wouldn't have been so upset, so scared, if he didn't.

There was a brief moment where things began to calm, the air no longer seeming to swirl around the room along with their melodic energies, their kiss breaking as they sucked in a slow drag of breath. Inuyasha could feel Kagome's heart beating erratically against his chest, staring up at him with her big eyes, the beautiful color lost in the darkness of the room but still holding the same effect on him. It took all the strength he had not to crumble to his knees, sensing exactly how she felt through the simple graze of her palm against his cheek.

And all over again, Inuyasha was winded.

How did she do this to him? How had she managed to color his world in the most vibrant hues, making it possible to see exactly what he was faced with without an inkling of light seeping through?

"Kagome, I..."

"I know."

He kissed her again, and again, and again. Over and over. Pulling her into him as he pushed her into the wall, his hands running over her sides, arms, shoulders, neck, and resting at the crook of her jaw. He didn't understand what had come over him, why he suddenly needed Kagome more than air, but there was no chance of fighting it. Not with her fingers gripping his clothes and her teeth teasing his bottom lip. Not with her pushing him to step back but making sure to hold on for dear life, preventing any lost contact, guiding him, walking backward, stumbling slightly over her own feet until they reached the padding of their bed.

"The fire."

"Leave it." Kagome breathed, hating that he broke away.

"It's dying." He chuckled, hovering over her lips as she desperately tried to reach for them. He silenced the small mewl she gave with a simple kiss, leading her down to her knees.

"Let it die."

"It'll be pitch black in here. You don't like that dark."

"I'm with you." She kissed his jaw. "I know I'm safe.”

Kagome’s fingers trailed down over his clothing, stopping at the knot that secured his robes shut. She only fumbled slightly, using her nails to pull the tie loose, and pushing the red robe from his shoulders. Inuyasha moved to help her, removing his kosode quicker than she would have been able to, his scorching skin now beneath her fingertips. She wanted to touch every inch of him, wanted to reacquaint herself with the way his muscles twitched beneath her touch, and the way his breath seemed to hitch whenever her nails gently flicked over old scars that never faded, feeling as if, no matter how many times she studied him, watched him, caressed him, kissed him, it was never enough. Kagome wanted to memorize Inuyasha. She wanted to feel his thudding heartbeat when they were pressed against each other and the way his chest rose and fell when he needed to slow down for just a second, she wanted to hear his uncontrolled grunts and the breathy way he said her name, but most importantly, Kagome wanted to watch the way he let go of his worries and fears and allowed himself to forget the unforgiving world around him for just a small moment of passion and peace in her arms.

It was impossible to see him, using her hands and lips to guide her, trailing small kisses up his sternum until she arrived at the curve of his collar bone. No matter how many times she’d flicked her tongue over this spot in the recent months, it never failed to make his stomach tense or bring his fingers to grip her where ever he could. And so he did. His nails scraped along the fabric of her robe, controlled, never harming her, the sound sending a thrill to the apex of her thighs.

She reached his chin, bringing Inuyasha to tilt it downward so she could easily find his lips, not the least bit surprised when she kissed him with a feverish, desperate need because he felt the same way. How could he not? Any separation from her was anxiety inducing. It didn’t matter that she was just pressed against him, touching his chest and arms, licking and nibbling at the base of his neck and in the dip of his clavicle. The second she pulled away, he was terrified, and the second she was against him again, he was satiated.

As she kissed him, dancing her lips over his quicker and harder, he found the flimsy knot that barely held her robe shut anymore, undoing it as she wriggled her shoulders and arms to allow it to fall off of her. Finally, her flesh was against his, and he wondered if it was at all possible to be so wholly intoxicated by the experience of Kagome, alone. Was he the luckiest man alive to be able to claim her as his? To be able to mark her, move inside, and make her keen? Did he actually deserve her? She’d say yes. She’d tell him he was stupid for questioning that in the first place. He could practically hear the words coming from her mouth, so powerfully and sincere.

Kagome’s fingers gently swiped at the base of his abdomen, just above his pant line, tickling the exposed skin and bringing a barely-audible grunt from his throat. He knew what she wanted, but he wasn’t done. He hadn’t finished telling her everything he needed to say. Slowly, softly, Inuyasha skimmed the backs of his knuckles from her ribcage to her hips, wrapping his arm around the small of her back for support as he laid her down, pressing himself between her legs. She sighed, accepting his body weight, biting her lip as he rolled his hips against hers, and he thanked whatever god was out there that he had heightened senses and could see through the darkness, because fuck, he absolutely loved the way she reacted to him.

Without haste, Inuyasha kissed down her neck, not stopping at any point to pay attention to tender spots, gliding his tongue over the nipple of one breast and making a mental note that he’d pay the same favor to the other later, kissing and licking his way down the center of her tummy, over the cloth of her panties, and down the inside of one of her thighs. He’d planned to keep going, but the whimper she gave as he nibbled at the thick flesh was too painful to ignore, and there was no way he could go on without hearing it again. Slowing his pace, he moved up her thigh, closer to her core where the skin was a little more sensitive, grazing his lips and sighing out, feeling the way she shuddered beneath his breath. Then, he incorporated his tongue, gliding it over the smoothness of her inner thigh, closing his mouth on the spot and giving a gentle suck. Kagome’s entire body reacted, back arching, legs tensing, her hands flying to the crown of his head, fumbling as she tried not to grip his hair.

He was achingly hard, and the more her breathing became unsteady, the more he found himself pushing away the thought to take her right then and there. Careful of his claws, Inuyasha pulled her underwear down her legs, Kagome lifting her hips and calves to make the job easier. She was bare now, no longer shying from his eyes as she did the first few times they were together, completely comfortable and so fucking beautiful. The fire burning within him became more powerful, more pressing, the blood flowing through his veins pumping faster, and he pressed himself against her once more, feeling her arch her back to mold completely against him, her arms wrapping around his neck as he kissed her hard.

It was difficult not to match her mewls with his own, letting her know just how easily she undid him. It was wonderful that no matter how many times their lips met, no matter how many times their mouths moved in total synchronicity, their tongues incorporated in smooth movements, they still kissed with so much fervent need you’d think they’d just barely been reunited from their three year gap. Inuyasha would always fear losing her again, but that’s something he could live with. He would always fear something bad happening, but that just proved how much he loved her. That would never stop. Those feelings, all of them, would never die. So long as he had her at the end of the day, the burdening emotions he struggled with would be easy to bear.

“I will always protect you, Kagome. Do you hear me?” The hanyou growled, feeling breathless in his words.

She felt the vibration through his chest, the honesty in the heat of his skin, the skip of her own heart as she allowed the promise to sink in.

“I feel safer in your arms than I ever did in my own world,” She admitted.

Inuyasha supported himself with an elbow next to her head, his other hand going between them to untie the knot supporting his hakama.

“And I want to keep you safe too, Inuyasha.”

It was entirely impossible not to grunt as his erection was finally set free, pushing his pants down as far as he could without removing himself from Kagome’s hold. Using his knuckle, he tested how wet she was, spreading the juices through her folds, going back for more, and then lightly rubbing over her clit, observing the way her mouth opened but didn’t make a sound, and how her chest rose with the inhalation but had yet to fall. Steadily, Inuyasha guided his cock inside of her, completely engulfed in the molting heat she emitted that brought out this husky, deep-rooted groan he didn’t have the chance to bite back. As he settled, allowing both of them to adjust, she finally exhaled, the whine she released so utterly satisfying it almost ended things then and there.

“I am safe,” He slid out, and then slowly back in. “You. Here. It’s all I need.”

Kagome arched her back, taking him in, her thighs tensing against his hips, the friction he provided as his pace began to increase so wholly amazing. She gripped the pillow above her head, never actually fully making it all the way up their futon when they’d began, biting her lip as Inuyasha provided a tantalizing roll of his pelvis and grazed her clit. She could already feel the tingling sensations rising, intensifying, her light moans turning into whining as her muscles began to tremble around his cock.

Inuyasha was whispering in her ear, thrusting harder, pushing her bangs from her face as he planted tiny kisses to her temple. She was trying to roll her pelvis, meet his grinds, suddenly so desperate for release, wanting to beg him not to stop but her voice wouldn’t work with her. She was on the ledge, so close it was antagonizing her entire body, and then he ordered her to come for him in that husky voice she never got to hear enough, forcing her to succumb to the magnificent embrace of her orgasm.

“Give me the pillow.” He said, hardly allowing her a moment to recover, rising up to his knees and holding his hand out. Kagome threw it up for him to catch, lifting her hips when he tapped her side, and settling back down when he was done adjusting the pillow under her butt. Swiftly, he glided back inside of her, reaching deeper than before, and she moaned all too satisfyingly. He loved making her do that. He loved when she made any sound, really, but mostly when it was of this sort. The one where she could hardly keep it together. Where it was obvious she wanted more. Where her hands flew to any part of him, and her nails bit into his skin, and she still tried to stifle it all by biting her bottom lip but it hardly did her any favors.

Inuyasha propped himself on his hands, his long hair flowing over one of his shoulders and to the padding beneath them, bucking his hips in a smooth rhythm. Kagome was touching him however she could, fumbling over his rigid muscles, grasping down on the curve of his hips where she could feel him thrust, occasionally slowing to a teasing grind, gently shushing her as her breathing picked up. Even in the black of night, she could see the grin on his face as he watched her body respond to his. He knew exactly what effect he was having on her.

The half demon bent down, never halting his pace as he licked the curve of Kagome’s neck, feeling the pebbled flesh rise beneath his tongue when she opened up, welcoming his ministrations. He wanted to feel her come again, hear those agonizingly tortured whimpers, and he’d do whatever he needed to do to get his way. Knowing he was pleasing her was all he required in order to be completely satisfied.

Kagome pushed at his shoulder, indicating she wanted him to roll over, but he shook his head. She tried again, pushing up with her hips, bringing a grunt loose from his chest as he managed to go even deeper for a split second, shuddering as she whispered a broken please into his sensitive ear, and he finally complied, wrapping his arm around the small of her back to bring her with him, never breaking their connection. She sank on top of him, adjusting her thighs over his hips as she continued the motion he’d began, only slowing for a quick moment as he pushed and kicked his pants from his legs, finally free from the semi-confining clothing. His hands immediately found her breasts, massaging and kneading, tenderly flicking a claw over her hardened nipples. Even though he was beneath her now, he still exerted control. Inuyasha swayed her pace by either clutching her hips or bucking upward. He decided if he wanted her sitting upright or bent forward so he could lick and suck and tease her breasts, switching between the two to make sure they got equal amounts of attention, taking over when she needed a small break, and then allowing her to feel in the lead when she began grinding once more.

He was getting closer. She could tell by the way his breathing changed and his stomach muscles clenched. He hardly made a sound when he was close to coming, everything so tight as she imagined the heat overwhelming his body. He was holding her waist as she sat fully up on his cock, no longer indicating whether he wanted her to roll or bounce, only watching her body as she brought him closer and closer to climax. She’d been on the brink for too long now, trying to find her release but unable to as he’d held her off, building her up inch by inch, little by little, but never enough. Inuyasha was barely in control anymore, trying to appear put together as he was crumbling to pieces, and Kagome wanted to hear him say her name.

Making sure he was watching, she reached down, parting her lips to rub her clit, the bundle of nerves so swollen and sensitive at this point, a wave of tingles climbed and splayed over every bit of her body. She couldn’t help but rub herself hard, growing greedy from the sensations as she continued to thrust, and buck, and do whatever she could to reach her orgasm. Her muscles began to tremble, clamping down on Inuyasha’s cock as she was overtaken, her thighs tensing against his hips as he uncontrollably slammed upward, squeezing her sides as he came, gifting her with a clenched, “Fuck!”

Close enough.

Kagome collapsed on top of him, catching her breath before rolling over on her right side, watching the way his chest rose and fell, and the way his long eyelashes fluttered as he opened his eyes. He looked over, propping himself on his side to face her as he recovered, kissing the scrape on her left shoulder that he’d once growled at. He sat up some more, kissing the bruise on her arm, then gently pushed it aside so he could kiss the large, speckled mark below her ribs.

“Did I hurt you when I grabbed onto it?”

“Not at all.” Kagome smiled, sighing contentedly as he continued to press multiple, pleasant kisses against the marks on her body. As he brushed his lips along the little one on her cheek, she turned slightly, meeting his mouth, hoping to speak his own language as fluently as she could and express just how much she valued his affection.

She would talk to him all night and well into the morning if she could, but as he tugged the blankets over them and pulled her in close, Kagome could feel the fatigue dragging her under. He swept his lips over hers once more, slowly, lulling out the motion in a hazy effect, whispering words she’d never heard before but always knew. And surprisingly, she felt Inuyasha’s body sink into a peaceful sleep before she even had the chance to respond.

#inuyasha #kagome #kagome higurashi #inukag #Inuyasha fanfiction #inuyasha fanfic #inuyasha fic #inukag fanfiction #inukag fanfic #inukag fic #smut #my writing #akitokihojo #the language he speaks #lemon #inuyasha lemon #inukag lemon #inukag smut

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fightevilandthengetblownup · 5 years ago

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OT3FIC: American Eskimo Dog

28 - summer pineapple delude quirky astound greasy moonlight bait

The dogs had had the most excitable day and were all laid about, panting heavily and relaxing after all the excitement across the dry grass of the backyard under the dappled shade of the tree above on the hot summer evening. Will felt an innate wish to be just like them and lay out there as dusk started and the group surrounding the barbecue and smoker drank their beers, and those flitting about the outdoor table put the final place settings and salads out. It had been almost as exhausting keeping up with the conversation of the last two hours as the constant running and spinning the dogs had done.

It wasn’t like any Fourth of July that the empath had ever participated in recently. Usually he spent the day doing work around the property, maybe a trip to the only open takeaway for Chinese food and trying not to let the dogs go too crazy at the fireworks on the other side of the forest. This year though, Will had found himself surrounded by some of the FBI’s most wanted as well as some others that would have been beyond his belief if someone had told him before he met the blonde that they existed. It wasn’t even like any of the strange ‘holidays’ that had cropped up in his life.

Since Jo and Grey had moved in, Will’s concept of what constituted a family event had changed and broadened significantly.

Will now found that there were days called Death Days which called for celebration - or rather copious amounts of alcohol and tight hugs that he had thus far managed to avoid being a part of. There were three of them still living that celebrated these - Jo’s usually involving a visit from the brother’s and grumpy surrogate dad; Dean’s was usually one where Jo would be from home and not back for a few days where she would practically fold in on herself in tears in the threshold upon getting home; Sam’s seemingly was a little more joyous an occasion where the tall hunter and his brother would bring fireworks and dubbed it more affectionately Apocalypse Aversion Day (though Will had learned through a hushed conversation with the blonde while she was very intoxicated that this was his second Death Day date but none of them wanted to ever think about the original one and the wheels that put in motion) - and then there were the ones in memoriam. There was one for Jo’s father but that was always her own private day where Will would be lucky to see her at all before sunset, and then it would be straight to bed with warm arms circling her. There was another for a man called John, who so far as Will could tell was the overbearing and controlling, estranged father for the other two hunters, but Jo seemed to spend those talking to the boys on the phone and lighting a pyre in the field for some reason or other. He’d learned there was a date for the older hunter’s wife too, where Jo would visit for a week and come home exhausted and needing sleep more than others.

There were happier seeming occasions and more normal holidays as well like Christmas (which always had a funny story about pagans and an evil witch), and birthday’s. But there was also more obscure ones - like how Jo would go to New Orleans every year for Mardi Gras and only ever explained the rationale as “I’ve got a friend I need to keep honest on the tips. And maybe a patron to see”; and a date that Will had dubbed Monster Day in his mind which always had Grey’s siblings suddenly inundating the farm, or at least the ones in bodies which was still strange to wrap his head around, and Jo scurrying out to the forest away from them after a warm greeting. There was Samhain not Halloween, there was other pagan-based reflections that Jo claimed it was “just smart” to stay in favor of, and there was a date Grey called Love Day not long before Valentine’s Day itself where he would suddenly lavish Jo with gifts. There was also another Love Day which was much the same but to himself, and Will still blushed every time when he realized it was the anniversary of their first time and just how much effort Grey put into being a calm and nurturing presence around him that day.

But that they were doing something particularly normal, particularly average and particularly mundane like Fourth of July was more unusual than normal in the grand scheme of things.

“Comin’ through!” The loud call came from the back door as Will turned his head to the noise to spout Jo spinning about blindly with an entire crate of beers held in her arms with another case on top blocking her face from her path as two of the shadows quickly disperses from her path between the door and the cooler.

“Jo, you shouldn’t-” “I was a freakin’ bartender for longer than you’ve been topside. I can handle some beers.” “Really Cupcake, that’s uncalled for.” “Oh whatever, out of m’ way!”

Will watched in amusement from against the oak’s trunk as Jo bouldered her way across the grass and sat the cartons down as the quirky strangest of the shadow’s ran over to help her unload them and begin filling the coolers. Shada who had objected to the idea of so much manual labor sniffed and turned back to setting out flower vases, candles, salad bowls and other elements along the long picnic table with the tall blonde shadow-girl following her pointed demands with a constant bobbing of her head. The fourth shadow, the dark haired one who always seemed up to causing trouble rolled his eyes watching his siblings and the blonde huntress before turning his attention back to the slightly taller, gangly looking hunter that had been nursing a single beer for four hours and counting but was somehow still wobbling on his feet.

He’d not thought much other than embarrassment upon meeting the eldest of the siblings - or who he perceived to be such, Grey had once tried to explain the concept of age against terminology but it had been a struggle and he had been much more interested in him using his mouth for something other than the explanation at the time - when she appeared during one of their chore days, but since then Shada had grown on him. Especially when he realized that the shadow was just as fiercely protective of her brother as he himself was. The tall blonde - Ombre - had been the next one he’d met, and while she’d been sweet and quiet and demure, Will couldn’t help but think she was trouble waiting to happen one day, like a young child not yet learning to throw her temper tantrums in the terrible twos. Mail had been next, though he’d been accompanied at the time by the fourth one who still hadn’t quite decided or settled on a name for himself (cycling through generic names including the awkward visit he demanded to be called Consuela Banana Hammock), and Will had found both brother’s almost as equally strange in their own ways as one another. Mail’s inability to sit correctly was almost as weird as the way the other would delude himself into thinking he had struck on gold in a conversation when he just made everything odd.

“Did you need anything else for the barbecue?” Grey called out from the back door towards the group of hunters around the charcoal grill, his head poking out from the back door before he started his own passage towards the dining table with yet another salad for the meal. “More tongs or-”

“Don’t worry, we’ve got it Grey.” “More beers would be good though-” “Dean, Jo just brought out more, get one yourself you lazy asshole.” “Bitch.”

“You idjits better shut up and get me a new beer by the time you’re done arguing.” Bobby’s voice cut over whatever Sam might have said in response along with the metal ting of the tongs against the edge of the grill as he growled back at them. There was a laugh from the table and near the drinks as the two girls, closest and strangely good friends from what Will had learned, so different but so similar laughed in response to the hunter’s grumpiness as Dean kicked at the dried clumps of grass under foot.

Looking over at the trio of hunters to that side, joined quickly by the fourth male hunter at the gathering as the shadow currently going by Ben Dover for the day moved towards annoying one of his siblings and Garth Fitzgerald IV moved to the rest of his own group; Will knew that if Jack had any inkling of who was currently flipping steaks, burgers and smoking a pork butt at his house, it would be the most tempting bait to drive the FBI director towards madness.

Of the four hunters, Will had found himself connecting far more to the older hunter than either of the three closer to his own age. A man living alone a large plot of land far away from town, who preferred the company of his canine companion and the solitude of providing for ones self, was definitely someone that Will could always get along with. The gangly hunter, that Jo and Grey alike swore was a werewolf, was probably his second favorite of Jo’s little side to the family - though he had freaked Will out on their first meeting by pulling him into an exceptionally tight hug; the fact that upon releasing Will, Garth had looked shocked, asked if he was a “touch aversion type” and apologized profusely before never doing the same despite the generous bear hugs Jo and Grey alike would get upon greeting had made a soft spot in the agent’s heart for him. Sam and Dean fell somewhere together, inseparable really the same way they were in all ways that Will had seen, but the more he saw the pair and also saw them around Jo and Grey, the more he liked the pair. Dean was gruff and politically incorrect to Sam’s quiet and sass, and Will had been astounded to realize that he appreciated the both for what they had to offer.

“Alright alright, this lot is done, someone get me the fuckin’ fruit.” “Right here, Bobby!” “Well then bring it over, ya brat, I can’t cook it from over there!”

Will shook his head a little, watching as the older hunter piled one of the foil trays that Grey had brought out high with beef and chicken and even some fish burger patties before the shadow covered the tray with more tin foil and moved it towards the table while Bobby scraped off the surface. They moved in tandem that pair, as if synchronized dancers even though Will knew it was more an innate knowledge of cooking that they shared more than experience or practice.

“Girlie, where-” “Here, you old grump!” “ ‘Bout time.”

The blonde hunter had bounded over after a small amount of rummaging with a few air-tight containers at Bobby’s insistence, setting the containers down before hurrying back towards the table to help guide Mail into the correct way to set out cutlery. Will could tell the second that the first slice went down that it was that glorious sticky, spicy pineapple slices recipe that Grey had been developing and that made Will’s mouth tingle with a mix of the acid of the fruit itself, the slight heat of the spice and the natural sweetness as well as the slight crunch of the demerera sugar included that formed the best crystals of crunchy caramel when they were cooked just right. There were also fresh peaches cut and quartered that he knew were for Jo’s favorite salad and that if Hannibal was there he would have had to concede the grilled peach, mozzarella and prosciutto salad worked fantastically well on a balmy summer’s evening like this when the sun was just crossing the horizon and would finally give way to the night. He even figured there might be some watermelon for the feta and rocket salad he’d suggested they try the next time that Shada was visiting from what one of the spectacularly boring looking salads on the table looked like.

“I’ve got to say, the amount of salad is great this year, Jo.” “Oh yes, Sam, Cupcake definitely made the right choices this year!” “I’m excited to try some of them-” “Of course you are, Ombre. At least there’s no Ambrosia salad-” “What salad?!” “It’s bits of canned fruit! In marshmallow!” “Ewwwww!”

The cries from the two female shadows, their voices loud and high pitched in their disgust perking the ears of the dogs that lay about tired and nearby, curiously cocking toward the noise before all of them besides Zoe decided it wasn’t worth investigating. The small dog snuffed her way around, giving a wide berth to the shadows but looking at them curiously until she was picked up in the loving hold of the werewolf with a scratch under her chin as the group of hunter’s shook their heads at the girls’ antics.

Will found himself shaking his head with the same bemusement as he watched the pair go back and forth over why that “isn’t a salad” or “isn’t food” and then further onto the real question of “why is human food so weird sometimes” which he thought was a valid question, as the eldest hunter began to slowly take the remaining steaks and sausages, chicken strips and the vegetarian options off of the grill into respective foil packages that Sam, Dean or Grey would ferry to the dining table while Jo wrangled the lid of the smoker off with the help of Garth to pull the pork butt out; as if the greasy and somewhat unhealthy but altogether delicious meats might prove the girls’ perceptions wrong without much trouble.

“You know, this is a very old tree.” “Yes it is.” “It had deep roots.” “Yep.” “You will weather any storm with roots this deep.”

The empath wasn’t even surprise to hear the gravelly voice beside himself all of a sudden. The final member of their party for the night was always a late comer according to his best friend; and that the angel had popped in from his busy schedule to simply enjoy a barbecue with friends was touching enough. That, as Will turned slightly to look out the corner of his eye, he could see the angel staring at him in return rather than the knotted roots of the tree they were metaphorically discussing was even more touching. Of all the family, he’d been the one Will automatically connected too even more than Bobby - and giving a small smile, the empath waved a hand towards the table as the moonlight started to rise to shine over them all.

“Ready for some dinner, Cas?” “Thank you for the invitation, Will. You and yours are very accommodating.” “We try to be.”

“It is very good. You are all very good, and you should feel blessed.” Cas’ voice was somewhat tighter than usual and as Will patted a hand on the surprisingly small shoulder under his grip, the other nodded in agreement looking out as their dogs dozed, and both sides of his favorite people’s families merged and mingled together in a mass of smiles and laughter, Will knew that the words were entirely true. It was very good, they were all very good and he sure as heck felt blessed as he caught the eye of his love’s and the way their smiles both widened for him.

#ot3 grey/jo/will fic #willpov

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saxonspud · 5 years ago

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Remember me

Soulmates will always find one another

It was dark, that much I knew. Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew I should be afraid, but I didn't know why.

The dark right now was the least of my worries. I was cold, I was naked and I couldn’t move. Not because I was restrained in anyway, but because I had no strength. I could move my arms and legs, but I couldn’t sit up, or even roll over for that matter. I felt something wet and sticky on the floor, it smelt funny, I recognised the smell. A faint trace of iron that clung to my taste buds when I sniffed the air. I was laying in a pool of blood.

But none of that scared me the most, even though it probably should have.

What scared me was I couldn't remember how I got here, what had happened or who I was.

I heard a loud bang, it startled me. I wasn't sure if I should try and be quiet, or call out for help. I tried to call out, but my mouth couldn't seem to make the words, so I just screamed, then I started to cry.

I heard voices, deep gruff voices. Light came cascading into the room as the door was opened. It was too bright, it hurt my eyes. I screamed louder, and cried harder.

“Hosea, Dutch! It’s a baby,” the gruff voice yelled.

It was too loud, I kept screaming, in my head telling him to stop shouting, but it kept coming out of my mouth as a scream, a wail or a cry.

I opened my eyes as a shadow crept across me, blocking out some of the light, making it bearable. Then I wished I had kept my eyes closed.

A boy leaned over me, he was young, sixteen or seventeen at most, but still big. He seemed familiar. Why was he so big. I looked at my hand, covered in red goo. It wasn't that he was big, it was because I was small. I looked at my baby hands, then started to scream louder, and cry harder.

What had happened to me, I knew stuff, I could recognise voices, recognise smells, tastes.

I screwed my eyes closed willing myself to remember, but I couldn’t, making me even more distressed.

The boy just stared at me, then looked over his shoulder.

“it wont stop screaming!” He huffed.

The boy stepped away, he was going to leave me. I moved my arms and legs, and cried louder.

Then someone else leant over me.

“It’s ok little one,” he whispered.

His hands scooped me up, they were huge. My head was held with one hand and my body with the other. His hands were so warm. He gently shushed me. I was so tiny, I suddenly realised why I couldn't talk, hell I couldn't even support my own head! I was a baby. But how?

“Go see if you can find a blanket, Arthur,” the man whispered.

I stopped screaming, and looked at the man’s face who was holding me. He was older, with blonde hair.

Then I heard another voice, much deeper.

“what the hell happened here?” he asked.

I started to cry again.

I saw the other man’s face, as he looked down at me. He had dark hair, and dark eyes. He looked kind of sad. He held his little finger out. I stopped crying, and I grabbed it in my hand. I pulled it towards my mouth. Suddenly realising how hungry I was.

“She’s not very old is she, Hosea?” the dark haired man whispered, as I sucked on his finger.

The man who was holding me, he must be Hosea, shook his head, “a day or so, I’m guessing.”

“The woman must be her mother, she not been dead long,” the dark haired man whispered.

I started to cry again, the finger wasn't easing the emptiness in my stomach.

“Whatcha gonna do with it,” Arthur asked, as he handed Hosea a blanket.

I cried harder, he was too noisy.

“Try and talk a bit quieter, son. She’s only a baby, she has sensitive ears.” the dark haired man whispered, sternly.

“Sorry, Dutch,” Arthur whispered.

He grabbed the blanket, “Give her here, Hosea.”

Dutch draped the blanket over his arm, and Hosea gently put me on top of it. Dutch then wrapped the blanket round me, nursing me in the crook of his arm.

“Lets get back home, then we can clean her up a bit and see if we can find something to feed her with,” he whispered.

He gently rocked me, stroking my cheek with his finger, until I stopped crying.

I wondered if the shock of what happened, had brought back memories of a previous life.

The three men, looked strangely familiar. Maybe I should stop trying to remember, and concentrate on being a baby.

That was easier said than done. A baby shouldn’t know the smell of blood, or to be afraid of the dark, or even know what a horse is. I knew, as soon as we walked out of the cabin. Once I was close enough to focus. I saw the horses.

As Dutch carried me towards his horse, I had that same feeling of familiarity. The horse turned its head, sniffing towards me. It quietly nickered. As though it recognised me.

Hosea looked at Dutch, “how very odd,” he commented.

Dutch looked down at my face, then at his horse, then back to me.

“Very odd indeed,” he whispered.

Babies sleep a lot, I knew that too. Despite being hungry, the warmth of the blanket and the rocking sensation of the horse, soon lulled me to sleep.

That was until the horse stopped, then my eyes opened and I started to cry. My tummy hurt from being empty for too long.

Dutch tried to sooth me with his little finger, letting me suckle on it, but when no food was forthcoming, my wails continued.

As he walked away from the horses, I heard a woman’s voice.

“Is that a baby? What are you doing with a baby?” She questioned.

Dutch carried me over to the woman, she cooed when she saw me.

“We found her in a cabin we were robbing, someone got there first, killed her mama and left her to starve to death. Guess they couldn’t bring themselves to kill a babe!” Dutch whispered.

Dutch handed me to the woman, I wanted to be with him, he was warm and he made me feel safe. I screamed and cried, trying to kick my legs and arms, but they were wrapped up in the blanket.

“Hush now, sweetheart,” the woman soothed, “lets get you cleaned up and fed.”

I was carried inside, similar to the place I had left, but no horrible smell of blood.

“Arthur, heat me up some water, and then fetch me the rest of the milk from this morning,” she barked.

I screamed, she was being loud like Arthur.

“Susan, she’s a little noise sensitive,” Hosea chided.

I looked at the woman, and she nodded, “I’m sorry sweetheart, was I too loud.” she whispered, as she rocked me.

The boy, Arthur, came along with some things and put them on the table, with a loud thud. When I looked at him, he looked grumpy.

“It’s gonna be trouble,” he huffed, but not too loudly. He’d already been told off for that.

Susan started to feed me some milk, by dripping it off the end of a spoon, into my mouth. Once I had been fed, I didn't feel the need to cry anymore. She unwrapped me from the blanket, and put me on her shoulder, gently patting and rubbing my back until I burped.

Some things I found unsettling, vestiges of left over memories from my former life. Others I didn't really care about. Worse for me was not being able to tell them what I wanted. But all, with the exception of the boy they called Arthur, seemed kind.

Once I was fed, Susan cleaned me up, until I had no more of my mother’s blood on me. Something inside told me that I should be sad, but I didn't feel it. My first memory of being a baby, was being found by the three men. I didn't even remember my mothers face, which was probably for the best.

Susan looked at me, and smiled. “We should take her to the doctor in the morning, he’ll be able to find her a good family,” she stated.

“No that ain’t gonna happen!” Dutch growled.

His voice was loud, and I started to cry.

He immediately came over, and took me from Susan. His hands, if anything were larger than Hosea’s. He held me out in front of him, supporting my head in one hand, whilst holding the rest of me in the other.

His thumb gently rubbing circles on my back with his thumb.

“This little girl belongs with us, I know it,” he whispered, and gently kissed my forehead.

I cooed happily.

“Dutch? Is this wise?” Hosea asked.

Dutch looked at me and smiled, “It may not be wise, but it’s right.”

Hosea walked over and stood next to Dutch, gazing down at me.

“Well tomorrow, we better go into town and get some baby supplies, and we better give her a name!” Hosea chuckled.

Dutch put me in the crook of his arm, leaving his other hand free. He gently touched my nose with his forefinger.

“What do you think, cutie pie, what would be a good name for you?” he whispered.

I tried to grab his finger, but my focus was still a bit off.

He brought his hand, closer to mine, so that I could grab one of his fingers.

“Such a clever little girl, aren't you?” Dutch cooed, and blew a raspberry on my belly.

I gurgled, and kicked my legs.

“You’re gonna be daddies special little girl, aren’t you?” Dutch cooed.

Hosea frowned, “Dutch?”

Dutch smiled, for the first time in nine months, since losing his beloved Annabelle.

“She’s a gift, Hosea.” he hesitated, “Annabelle,” Dutch’s voice cracked, “she always said that if we had a little girl, she wanted to call her Anastasia. So...” Dutch’s voice trailed off.

I looked up at Dutch’s face, Annabelle? Why was that name so familiar. Why did his eyes look so sad.

I wanted to tell him everything would be ok, but it just came out as a gurgle.

Dutch smiled, and gently started rocking me in his arm.

“I think my little Anastasia needs a nap,” he whispered.

My eyes started to feel heavy. The warmth of Dutch’s hands and his soothing voice, gently lulled me to sleep.

#rdr2 fanfic #dutch van der linde #hosea matthews #arthur morgan #susan grimshaw #annabelle

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andreaphobia · 6 years ago

Text

fic: the aerodynamic properties of eggs. (HARUKA & MAKOTO)

Characters: Haruka/Makoto, Kisumi, Asahi Wordcount: ~2200

Summary:

Makoto eggs Haruka's house for a dare, then ends up asking him out.

Also on AO3.

If this was the last thing Makoto ever did, he wanted everyone to know that it was one hundred percent, without a shadow of a doubt, entirely Kisumi’s fault.

He can think of roughly a million other places he’d rather be, and a billion other things he’d rather be doing. Like... flossing, or folding his underpants. Doing his math homework. Literally anything besides standing in the middle of a dark street somewhere in his neighborhood, clutching a carton of eggs, and trying not to hyperventilate until he blacks out.

His phone buzzes in his pocket, and without having to look, he knows what it says. It’s either Kisumi or Asahi, reminding him of the terms of their game. Trying to make sure he doesn’t chicken out. This is a real problem when it comes to Makoto, who is not big on rule-breaking as a whole. Without the reminder that someone out there is keeping tabs on him, he probably wouldn’t be here at all.

Fortunately for the two of them, while Makoto doesn’t make a habit of juvenile delinquency, he is susceptible to peer pressure. Which brings us to the present: Tachibana Makoto has to egg someone’s house.

Why? Because he was dared to, and Kisumi and Asashi already did: it’s as simple as that. Furthermore, neither of them got caught doing it, which raises the stakes somewhat. Now, not only does Makoto have to egg a house, he must also completely avoid detection, Mission Impossible-style. And, if he should be caught, he’s on his own—he’ll have to talk his own way out of it.

(Such are the ways of young men and the idiotic games they play with each other.)

In the first place, Makoto wonders, in increasingly growing dismay, how does one egg a house? He hasn’t the faintest idea. Oh, sure, he can make an educated guess based purely on the necessary physical logistics of it—you know, reach into carton, grasp egg firmly in hand, fling egg, repeat until someone calls the cops, and then hightail it out of there.

But it’s the other stuff that isn’t so clear. Should he stand on the sidewalk to maintain plausible deniability, or get way up close so he doesn’t miss? Would it be more efficient to try throwing the whole carton at once, and, if so, should he do it underhand or overhead? Is an airborne egg likely to retain its physical integrity as it flies, or is there a chance of, say, spontaneous egg combustion?

His phone buzzes again, insistently, and he almost drops the entire carton of eggs on his foot.

“Okay, okay, I got it already,” he mumbles, although it’s not like Kisumi or Asahi can hear him. There’s nothing else for it—he has to do it, consequences be damned.

Makoto fumbles the carton open, then stares at the contents within, immediately paralyzed by the array of choices laid out before him. Should he start with the egg in the top left corner? The one next to it? How much of an effect does the size and shape of the egg have on its aerodynamic properties? Also, does any of this even matter?

He shuts his eyes and snatches one at random, partially squishing it in his panic. This almost certainly compromises its aerodynamic properties; nevertheless, with eyes still shut, he draws his arm back over his shoulder and then flings the fistful of crushed egg in the general direction of the house. And that’s when the lights go on.

Makoto leaps several feet into the air, lets out a high-pitched whisper-scream, and actually does drop the carton of eggs on his foot. Then stumbles, and steps on them, for good measure. A shadowy figure has peeled away from the tree in the front yard, solidifying into the shape of a man. The man is holding a flashlight, the beam of which is pointed directly at Makoto’s face, blinding him.

“So,” a gruff voice says, “you’ve been egging houses on this street, have you?”

“NO!” Makoto wails, immediately. He shields his eyes, which allows him to sort of make out some of the details of the figure who’s standing in the yard pointing the flashlight at him. An adult. An older man, who looks very grumpy indeed. And not at all impressed by Makoto’s denial, either—understandably, given the egg bits dripping from his hand and the carton of broken eggs under his feet.

“A likely story,” the man says, brusquely. “Trying to play dumb even though you’ve been caught in the act, eh?” At last, he lowers the flashlight and crosses his arms, which gives Makoto’s eyes a bit of a reprieve. “Well? What do you have to say for yourself?”

Without any apparent input or engagement from his brain, Makoto’s mouth leaps into action. He babbles something only partially coherent about a dare, something about his friends doing it first and feeling like he had to and he’s really sorry he didn’t mean it he’ll never do it again he doesn’t even like eggs—

“—I see,” the man interrupts, after listening to this word vomit for a solid twenty seconds. “A dare... is that right?” He shakes his head, sighing heavily. “You know, lad, you’re about my Haruka’s age. You really ought to know better.”

Alarm bells are going off in Makoto’s head, but unfortunately his brain is still out to sea, so his mouth can no longer be stopped. It has latched on to the name ‘Haruka’ as someone who can be used as an excuse, and barrels on into oblivion, guns a-blazin’.

“Haruka—um—we—it—my friends dared me—because we’d—gone out on a date—but it didn’t—I mean—we didn’t work out—but I still—”

The man stares at him.

“You... went out with Haruka?” he asks, in a very funny tone of voice.

There’s a lengthy pause, during which Makoto’s brain labors to catch up to the conversation of the past couple of minutes. Then another one, during which he screams internally and tries to rewind time to that period of blissful ignorance, before he was aware of the words that had just come out of his own mouth.

“Uhm...” Finally, Makoto decides that—if nothing else—he can at least make his story internally consistent. (He intuits that this will probably be a mark in his favor, when he’s going up on the stand in juvie court.) “Yes...?”

It comes out sounding like a question, but fortunately the man doesn’t seem to notice. He fixes Makoto with an unreadable look, which lasts for so long that Makoto hyperfixates on the feeling of the sweat dripping down the back of his neck, and starts to panic.

Then the man switches off his flashlight, tucks it under his arm, and turns over his shoulder to bellow, “HARUKA! Get out here!”

After an excruciating minute, the porch light on the front of the house comes on, and the front door swings open. A slim figure emerges from the house wearing flip flops, trotting down the gravel pathway and then down the lawn (taking care to avoid the aborted egg splatter that only ended up making it halfway to the house).

The figure comes up next to the man, who Makoto assumes is his dad, and looks back and forth between the two of them, expressionlessly.

“...What?”

Makoto gulps. Okay, first of all, Haruka is a guy. Which—not a bad thing, but definitely a surprise. Second of all, he’s—uh—how do you say it? Oh, right—smokin’ hot. Shorter than Makoto, with dark, silky hair and blue eyes; nice wrists and cheekbones, and a tight waist that looks just the perfect size for Makoto to grab him by and carry him around. Nice mouth, too, and kinda... sexy... lips. (Even in the privacy of his own head, this thought is enough to make him blush.)

“Boy said he wants to talk to you,” Haruka’s father says, his voice gone weirdly gruff again. “I’ll—uh—leave you two to it.”

“I thought you were trying to catch the kid who was egging houses on our street.”

“Never you mind that. Just—tell me about it later, okay?”

He claps Haruka on the shoulder affectionately, then turns and heads back up into the house.

Haruka watches him leave blankly. Eventually, he turns back to Makoto. He doesn’t say anything, however, and at this point Makoto becomes acutely aware that he is still standing there with egg drippings on his hand, and is standing on a carton of eggs. (As far as good first impressions ago, he figures this probably doesn’t even make the top two hundred.)

“Uh—sorry.” Good start—but future prospects are dim. Anyway, given the fact that he’s been caught with egg on face (and hand—and shoe), he feels like he may as well be honest. What has he got to lose? “My friends dared me to egg your house, and your, um, your dad caught me. So I told him that we... er...” This part is a bit of a sticking point, but he stands firm, “...that it was because we... um... broke up.”

Haruka blinks.

“But we’ve never dated,” he points out, quite reasonably.

“You’re right, we haven’t.”

“I don’t think we’ve even met.”

“Yes, that’s true.”

With the facts of the matter confirmed, Haruka lapses back into what appears to be a thoughtful silence. Makoto is just starting to wonder if he can excuse himself to go wash the egg off his hand yet when Haruka finally speaks.

“But we need to break up anyway.”

“Uhm...” Makoto tries to think about this logically, but his brain is fried. He shrugs, instead. “I guess so? Yeah.”

Haruka nods, like it’s all starting to make sense now. “So we should go out on a date.”

“Yeah, we—wait, what? That wasn’t what I—”

Makoto’s idiot mouth is on the cusp of producing another stream of idiocy when his brain finally seizes the wheel, stopping it in its tracks before it can scuttle his chances with smokin’-hot Haruka any worse. “You... want to go out with me?”

“It only makes sense,” Haruka says—slower this time, as though he’s talking to a moron, which is both kinda funny and also really rude. “We need to break up. But we’ve never dated. So we should date... so that we can break up.”

Makoto blinks. If you selectively disengage all the parts of the brain that process conscious thought, he supposes it almost starts to make a weird kind of sense.

“Uh... where do you... want to go, then?”

Haruka doesn’t hesitate. “The beach. I’m free this weekend.”

On some level, Makoto is starting to feel as though he is perhaps just having a very weird and specific dream. However, dream or not, Haruka still has a sexy mouth and a sexy everything else, too, so at this point it seems reasonable to decide that he’s just going to go wherever this wild ride takes him.

His phone buzzes again, reminding him of its existence. Thanks to that, it occurs to him that maybe they should exchange numbers, so he reaches into his pocket to grab it, and by the time he remembers he has eggy hands it’s already too late.

“Oh, crap—darn it.” Helplessly, he wipes his phone screen off on the seat of his jeans, and then his hand as well, because what the hell, right? “Here, do you want to give me your number, then? Sorry about the... um... the egg.”

Haruka takes the phone from him without a word, dials in a number, then hands it back. Makoto saves it into his contacts, then returns the phone to his pocket.

That seems to be that, and he’s not sure what to do next, so he just laughs, awkwardly. “So... see you on Saturday, I guess...?”

“Bye,” Haruka says, turning to go back into his house.

Part of Makoto feels like he’s won the lottery; another part suspects he’s actually making a mistake. (The last part just enjoys the sight of Haruka walking away; those jeans look like they were made to be peeled off of him.)

The door shuts behind Haruka, and then the porch light goes out, leaving Makoto standing alone in the dark.

For quite some time, he doesn’t move, still processing the events of the last ten minutes. Eventually it occurs to him that he’s got texts waiting, and re-extracts his phone. There are several unread messages in his inbox:

10:31pm > no waiting! no pulling out! the house must be egged! THE GAME HAS SPOKEN!

10:32pm > did you get caught?

10:37pm > you got caught, didn’t you?!

10:40pm > WE’RE DISAVOWING ALL KNOWLEDGE OF YOU, OPERATIVE MAKOTO!!!

Makoto sighs, scrapes a fleck of egg shell off his phone’s screen, and hesitantly types out a reply to the last message.

10:42pm > I’m not really sure what just happened, but I... got a date, somehow?

The reply is nearly instantaneous (“WHAT?!?!?!”, though depicted here with less punctuation for brevity’s sake), but Makoto has already put his phone away. After being put through the wringer like that, the least he can do for revenge is make them wait a couple of hours for all the juicy details.

As he reaches down to scoop up his ruined carton of eggs, it occurs to him that he never told Haruka his name. Makoto’s gotta admit, he admires the chutzpah of a guy who’ll ask a complete stranger out without even knowing what to call him. Well, that’s what he got Haruka’s number for (and thank God he’d had the foresight for it).

Feeling strangely cheerful for no particular reason at all, he picks up his eggs and heads on home.

#free!#free! anime #makoharu #harumako #fic #a love letter to quirky haruka #written by an unexpectedly smitten makoto #fake exes

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