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doahaesunshine · 1 month ago

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Chapter 3: I realized that everything has a reason

Chapter WC: 4045

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This is a loaded chapter. Figuratively and literally.

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I have so many questions Yet no one is here to answer I live my life on a cloud of confusion Waiting for the day my skies will clear But until that day I will remain imprisoned in my own mind

You woke up to the sun bathing your face in light, the blinds still left wide open from the previous night. You groaned as you rose from the bed and stretched, a resonant pop emanated from your neck as your joints shifted.

It looked as though it was still early and you debated on getting more rest, but ultimately decided to peel yourself out of bed. Once you stood, a sharp pain shot through your head, yet another headache. You grabbed the vial Dino had given you off the nightstand and inhaled the peppermint scent. As if it were magic, the throbbing in your head disappeared.

As you walked downstairs you were met with the aroma of bacon and maple. The smell sent a wave of nostalgia through you. It was cozy and made your chest bubble with warmth.

“Good morning!” Dino’s cheery voice resonated through the room. “I hope you're hungry because I made too much food. I’m not used to visitors.” His tone turned sheepish as a slight blush made his ears glow.

You couldn’t help but smile. “I am a bit hungry. Hopefully you make breakfast as well as you cook dinner.”

“You enjoyed the stew?” Dino’s face lit up with a huge smile. “That’s good! I’ve never cooked for anyone before so I’m happy you liked it.”

It’s only been a day since you met Dino, but you found it difficult to not be endeared to him. Talking with him felt like spending time with a younger sibling. He was all smiles and laughter, not to mention generous. You were taken aback by his hospitality given that you were a complete stranger, but you supposed his caring nature came from being what he called an Alchemist.

The source of the maple scent was waffles, accompanied by some syrup that Dino warmed up to pair with the savory dish. Quickly, you had taken a seat at the table and dug in. Even though you had your fill of dinner yesterday, you filled your plate full of bacon, waffles, and fruit. Dino did say he made too much food so you were going to take advantage of that.

“Do you have coffee?” You asked between bites.

Dino hummed as he thought. “Coffee? No. But I think I have some black tea. Do you want some?”

“I’ve never had it before, but if it has caffeine I will take it.”

Dino stood from the table to put a kettle over the flame of the hearth. “It definitely has caffeine. Less than coffee but it should do the trick. I can put some milk and honey in it too if you don’t like the bitterness.”

The kettle took no time to heat up and Dino served you a tea cup worth of the dark liquid. You first tried it without any additives but it made your face twist at the bitterness. Dino laughed as he added the milk and honey. After stirring everything in, you sipped it once more, finding it more pleasant to your pallet with the added sweetness.

“So about this Archivist.” You said, enjoying another sip of your tea. “Is he some type of big shot around here?”

“I’m not too sure what that means, but if you are asking if he is important, yes.” Dino gathered the plates in a stack and placed them by the sink. “He’s the proprietor of Diamond Hall and he watches over its center.”

“Diamond Hall?” Learning the name of the area you were in sparked curiosity. “That’s where we are right now?”

Dino shrugged. “Well my cottage is more on the outskirts. It’s still close by though, only a ten minute walk until we get to the plaza.”

You finished the rest of your tea and set the cup by the sink. “Okay! I’m ready.”

Dino snickered at your enthusiasm. “Don’t you want to wash up? You were in a lake, remember?”

You took a quick sniff of your arm and sure enough you smelled like lake water. It wasn’t entirely unpleasant, a little earthy with an underlying sweat, maybe a bath wouldn’t be so bad.

The washroom was well equipped with herbal bath scents and naturally made soaps. Dino filled the tub with hot water for you and told you to take your time so that he could find better clothes for you. He closed the door as he left. Once you had the room to yourself you undressed. The air was cool, sending a shiver down your spine. In a rush, you slid into the tub, letting the warmth of the water soothe your sore muscles.

Whatever Dino had put in the water smelled like lavender and sage. Deep down, the fragrance reminded you of something but you couldn’t place it at that moment. Overall, it had a relaxing effect and with a sigh you fell slack against the back of the tub. Baths were never really your thing, but if all of them were this nice then you would have to start a routine for relaxation.

After freshening up in the bath, you dried off and wrapped the towel around your body, hearing a soft knock at the door.

“I’ll leave the clothes by the door!” Dino spoke quickly and hurried off before you could respond.

You retrieved the clothes which consisted of a loose, white linen shirt and straight cut, dark brown trousers. Both of which looked like they would fit you much better than the shirt you had borrowed. There were no shoes but your own. They were a bit damaged by the water, however still sufficed. As for your hair, not much could be done about it, but you did your best to at least push it out of your face.

“I’m ready when you are!” You called out after exiting the washroom.

Dino trotted down the steps wearing a simple button down sweater that was a little baggy on him. His pants looked similar to yours, he must have given you an older pair. He ambled toward the door and he knelt down to put on a pair of boots. There was a slight shuffle to his steps as he made sure the boots were secure.

The moment you were outside you were met with a breathtaking sight. You saw the greenery from the bedroom window, but the front of the cottage was a different story. Vines and branches climbed the side of the house, encasing parts of it. A budding garden of flowers caught your eye, even some you recognized as pansies and tulips. Alongside those flowers were potted herbs, labeled meticulously to not get any confused. It made sense, if Dino was an Alchemist then he would need to have interest in botany and gardening.

What surprised you the most was the fact that there was a slight chill to the air, yet the plants still grew. They looked healthy but healthy flowers meant pollen, and pollen meant allergies. There was a familiar itch to your nose.

Achoo!

The sneeze sounded more like a roar as the powdery substance invaded your nostrils. Dino looked back at you with an expression of shock.

“Sorry! Pollen allergy.” You said as you itched at your eye.

Noticing your sensitivity, Dino rushed you further down the path. The stone road was barely visible due to the overgrown grass and clovers. It was confusing to follow as it winded through trees and meadows, but Dino did a good job leading you through the march.

Much to Dino’s words earlier, the path opened to a clearing with a proper road. The area itself was circular with an intricate fountain at its center, holding a statue of a lounging panther. Just below the stone feline was a small waterfall which fed into the fountain. As you took in the stonework, a sense of tranquility and wisdom could be depicted from the panther’s expression.

Aside from the path you came, three more sprouted off before you, Dino pointed to the path directly ahead of you.

“Diamond Hall Center is this way. We should be there soon.”

Dino continued to lead the way, making idle chatter about his time as an Alchemist and how he enjoys making elixirs to help others. He proclaimed himself humbly as the resident healer in his community, his words put you at ease.

Diamond Hall was not what you expected. You were thinking of a small government building of sorts, something made of old brick that was in need of repairs. This structure however was nothing like that. A fortuitous castle towered over the courtyard where you and Dino stood.

The warm sandstone structure resembled that of gothic architecture but nothing about this reminded you of any historic European building. Before you was a show of expert craftsmanship and construction, even the cobblestone path was a sight to behold. On either side of the path were pruned hedges and manicured flower patches, not a stray leaf out of place. Truth be told, it was intimidating, encroaching even.

Continuing down, you were met with another statue, one now of a stoic looking man dressed in an old fashioned suit. Beside the man was the same panther from the fountain, its form twisted around the former’s leg, looking just as phlegmatic.

The bronze plaque read: Grand Archivist, Jeon Wonwoo.

“Is this who I’m meeting?” You asked.

Dino gazed up at the statue. “Yup. Our Archivist, Wonwoo.”

There was a bundle of nerves that danced around in your chest, nausea building in your stomach “Is there a certain way I should address him?”

Dino paused for a moment as he thought. “There are a few. You can call him Archivist Jeon, Mr. Jeon, Grand Archivist, sir if your mind goes blank.”

You nodded along as you listened to Dino rattle off titles. This was going to be stressful, but your desire for information triumphed against your anxiety. With a quick shake to get the nerves out, you pushed forward with Dino.

The interior was just as elegant as the exterior. Marble floors glistened due to the crystal chandeliers that hung above. You strained your neck to look up at the dangling lights. The ceiling beyond felt like it went on for miles. You couldn’t help but stare as Dino led you up a marble staircase and through multiple halls.

Eventually, the two of you reached a tall set of doors. They were entirely too big to push open yourself, even Dino could see your confusion and pointed out that it was just for show. The actual door was much smaller and easier to push open.

“This leads to the Diamond Archives. Archivist Jeon should be in there, he is usually here early to make sure everything is in its place.” Dino said as he opened the door for you.

“Okay.” Your eyes widened. “Wait- Are you telling me to go in alone?”

Dino offered an apologetic look. “I’m sorry. I have to get back to my duties at the cottage. I left a huge workload on hold because of- well you know.”

Of course, Dino had told you the people of this community depend on him for medicine on your walk here. You were sure that being in his care put a pause on his orders.

You took a deep breath. “I got this. I have my questions at the ready.”

Dino smiled as you gave yourself a pep-talk. “Good luck! I’m sure he’ll help clear things up.”

With a new found confidence, you breached the door and stepped inside. The heavy door closed with a rumbling thud, loud enough to startle a gasp from you. The hall you found yourself in was lit by sconces along the wall, seeming very medieval as the light was a soft orange and dim.

“Hello?” You rasped out. The nerves were not helping.

No one responded, all that was heard was the faint echo of your own voice. Cautiously, you continued down the hall. Every now and then you peeked into one of the side rooms, finding no nothing or no one of interest.

“You gotta be kidding me- Hello!” This time you were louder, the annoyance spurred you on.

“Apologies.” A low voice spoke behind you.

You nearly jumped out of your skin as you whipped around only to be met with a man that resembled the statue. Round glasses rested atop his nose bridge, not shifting once while he bowed to you, the beaded lanyard they were attached to only rattled at the movement. The chain itself was dainty and exquisite, glimmering in the light of the fire.

Your heart was still beating out your chest from the previous fright, but you returned the bow. You wanted to speak, but the words caught in your throat.

The man before you straightened to his full height, flattening his suit gently. “I’m Grand Archivist, Jeon Wonwoo.”

In the confines of the hall his voice resonated off the walls. Despite its rich tone there was something chilling about the way he spoke. He focused on you as if expecting something.

“Oh-” You needed to introduce yourself. “I’m- uh- Damnit.”

Your name still escaped you, a slight blush creeped up your cheeks out of embarrassment and you exhaled a defeated sigh.

Archivist Jeon studied you as you tripped over your words. “Have you forgotten much about your time on the mortal plane?”

The term mortal plane peeked your interest. “I’m sorry, what?”

You watched as Archivist Jeon took a step closer. He didn’t get too close but enough to examine your face.

“You are human, aren’t you?”

That was a preposterous question. “What? Of course I am. What are you on about?”

There was a lengthy pause between the two of you, only the sound of your beating heart filled your ears. With everything that has transpired thus far, you were still on edge.

“I must apologize again. It always astounds me that no matter what time period or realm humans come from, they are always so bewildered.” His face was expressionless as he spoke.

It felt as though his eyes were boring into you, as if he was reading your thoughts. The sharpness of his eyes was imposing and you couldn't help but feel small in the presence of the tall man.

You swallowed your fear and met his gaze. “You keep talking about me as if I’m so different. Aren’t you human too, Archivist Jeon?”

A close lipped smile broke his deadpan expression. “I see you are going to have a lot of questions. Follow me to my office. Do you like tea?”

His demeanor was clinical and detached before, but there was a shift in his tone as he continued to speak. His words became inviting and warm. You agreed to the tea but only because you wanted answers.

It was a short trek to his office, the room resting at the end of the corridor. He entered first, holding the door open for you to enter. The office itself was exorbitant in its aura. The rich, dark cherry wood flooring was polished to perfection and the wallpaper was a tad gaudy, though the full ebony wood bookshelves aided in disguising it. At the far end of the room backlit by a streak-free bay window, a large executive style desk rested, the sleek dark color matching the shelves that littered the wall. With the attention to detail and extravagant furniture, some might call the room suffocating, however you could insinuate that Archivist Jeon was a maximalist.

Letting your gaze wander, you took notice of the spiral staircase that led to a balcony that housed plenty more books. In this room alone, the amount of literary works seemed endless. The Archivist gestured towards the plush chair opposite of his desk, inviting you to relax. The leather cushions threatened to swallow you whole, yet you let yourself lean further into the chair.

The tea served was different than the black tea Dino gave you earlier. This was much lighter and sweeter. The Archivist, after checking if you needed anything more, took a seat behind his desk.

“So you have forgotten your name and where you came from?” Archivist Jeon started.

You nodded in agreement. “Yes, I remember falling or something- then I woke up here.”

The Archivist stared at you with an analytical gaze. His expression was neutral once more making it hard to read.

“It has been two years since someone from the mortal plane was brought here. Do you know how rare this situation is?”

“You’re saying that term again.” There was a hint of irritation in your voice. “What do you mean by ‘mortal plane’?”

Archivist Jeon inhaled the aroma of his tea before sipping. “That’s where you are from: The Mortal Plane. That is what we call it here in Diamond Hall.”

You opened your mouth to speak but you were spoken over by the Archivist.

“Before you ask, yes, this is still Earth. But this Earth is very different.”

You held your cup of tea in your lap and absently thumbed at its handle. “So I can go home?”

“No.”

“Okay. You aren’t giving me a lot to go on here, Grand Archivist.” The annoyance had finally boiled over.

“Every time you speak my title it’s as if you are spitting venom. Have I done something to offend you?”

A defeated groan emanated from you. “It’s because no one is answering my questions! Or when they do get answered I’m left more confused than before! It’s infuriating!” Your head began to throb as your blood pressure rose.

Yelling was not good for the migraines that had been plaguing you. You hurriedly retrieved the vial of mint from your pocket and inhaled. The pain subsided, but the frustration remained.

“I will start from the top then.” Archivist Jeon stood from his seat and sauntered to one of the book cases.

He ran the tip of his finger over the exposed book spines until he stopped at a thick leather bound book. The heavy tome was freed from its place on the shelf and carried back to the desk. He carefully placed it in front of you and leaned over the desk to turn to a certain page.

“Here.” He pointed to a block of text.

You scanned over the block of text, comprehending as much of it as possible.

Should the crescent of Vitidel and the full strength of Gi-Enos meet, a portal shall open.

Those who wander too close will be swallowed whole by the gate, thus separating them from the Mortal Plane. Once devoured, the victim will experience memory loss. Their memories are not lost forever however, they will simply be housed in the cosmos, waiting for the next Joining.

If the victim wishes to return home, they will need to wait two years for the next portal opening. The Joining never ensures a successful transport back to the Mortal Plane. The event could return the victim home, but it could also destroy them entirely.

You read over the passage a second time just to be sure you were reading it correctly. “Wait- What are you saying? Am I in some sort of magical fairy land? This isn’t a joke!”

“There is no humor in this.” Archivist Jeon gazed down at you. His stone-like expression told you he was being serious.

“Okay. So what you're implying is that when I fell-” You screwed your eyes shut as you fought off another headache. “The fall took me to a different dimension?”

“I am not implying anything.” The book was closed as the Archivist returned to his seat. “I had you read an excerpt that was written by my elder. She was the first human to experience the Joining.”

“There you go saying human again.”

Archivist Jeon's patience was unwavering. “That is simply because Human is the term we use for people who were born on the Mortal Plane.”

Every time this Archivist opened his mouth you became more confused. “Then what does that make you?”

“People who are born in the Septimus Decimus Realm are called Arcanists.”

You blinked absentmindedly. “Sep- What?”

“In the Great Wheel, we are in the Seventeenth Realm.” The tone the Archivist spoke in remained even.

“Can you say that in human words?”

Archivist Jeon stood once again and rolled a chalkboard over to where you were sitting. He procured a box of chalk from his desk and began to scribble on the slate. What he drew resembled a bunch of circles in the shape of a circle. There was one extra in the center and you watched as lines were drawn from each of the circles to the center.

“This is what we call The Great Wheel .” He pointed to the image as a whole. “This is where we are currently.” He drew an arrow pointing at one of the top circles.

Counting from the top center circle all the way around equaled seventeen circles, but there were eighteen in total.

“All seventeen of these realms are tied to Realm Nihl, or Zero. It’s what I was referring to when I said Mortal Realm.” Archivist Jeon placed the chalk down and wiped the residue on his handkerchief.

Your energy dwindled as you digested the information the Archivist fed you. “So I came from here?” You stood and pointed to the center circle.

The Archivist sang out a low hum of agreement.

“Then what’s all this?” You motioned to the lines. “Did I follow one of these lines when the gate devoured me ?”

“Not exactly.” Archivist Jeon erased the lines and began to draw little waves in the empty space. “Think of it more like the ocean. All that energy in between realms has the power to disintegrate a person. Just like how a tsunami can destroy a ship and her crew.” He directed his attention to you.

“The Joining caused a portal to open in the Mortal Realm. It swallowed you and something must have helped steer your form to safety. Do you remember anything before falling?”

You thought for a moment and tried to list everything you remembered.

You were falling.

And then you were consumed by darkness.

There were voices in that void.

Wait- a voice. There was a voice before the fall too.

A sharp pain sliced through your skull. You yelped and grabbed your head as a deafening ring bombarded your ears. The strength in your legs gave and you collapsed, but a firm grip on your shoulders stopped you from crumbling to the floor.

“Forgive me.” Archivist Jeon’s tone was laced with sympathy. “I shouldn’t have encouraged you to dig into your shattered mind.”

You used Archivist Jeon to steady yourself, giving no struggle as he guided you back to the chair. He plucked the handkerchief from his suit and offered it to you. At first curious as to why, you soon felt the familiar warmth of blood dripping from your nose. With haste, you accepted the cloth, not wishing to stain your clothes again.

“Thank you.” You muttered weakly.

Archivist Jeon nodded and returned to the tome, pushing it toward you. “Keep it for now. The longer you stay here the more questions you’ll think of. The tome will prove helpful during this time.”

You mumbled another thank you as you scooped the book into your arms. All you wanted now was a nap and so you stood from your seat and lumbered toward the door.

The Archivist rushed ahead of you to open the door for you. You stumbled, but he caught you by the arm. “I’ll escort you back to the Alchemist’s. You’d find yourself lost the second you stepped out.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, chief.” Even in a moment of seriousness you managed to throw in a bit of sarcasm.

Archivist Jeon remained calm as he offered you his arm for support. The two of you walked at an easy pace for your sake. Arm in arm, you made your way back to Dino’s cottage.

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sfarticles · 2 years ago

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Kick the can — try these homemade soups to warm the soul Celebrate National Soup Month with these delicious recipes

Check out my latest column https://www.timesherald.com/2023/01/28/kick-the-can-try-these-homemade-soups-to-warm-the-soul/

Turkish Tomato, Bulgar, and Red Pepper Soup. A sprinkle of fresh mint gives the soup a final punch of flavor. For this recipe, please visit https://bit.ly/2QfmFde (Photo Credit: America’s Test Kitchen)

The holidays are over, and winter has set in. The good news is, we will see a couple of minutes of more daylight with each passing day.

My cold-winter night, quick dinner-go-to, is a piping hot and steamy bowl of soup. I imagine January’s cold weather is why it is National Soup Month. I thought back to childhood days when I would eat a bowl of Alphabet soup, trying to find all the letters in the alphabet. I bet some of you did this too! Today, I have a repertoire of favorites I tend to make again and again, but not from a can. Soup is so comforting, and a favorite for many. Years ago, in a column I wrote for another publication, the most popular restaurant recipe requests that I received from readers were for soup. The red lentil soup served at the Turkish Kebab House in West Haven, CT was requested by many people. It is one of my favorites. The recipe is below for you to prepare and enjoy.

I’m always on the lookout for recipes to add to my standards. Every country, culture and family have their traditions. Mine? My grandmother’s matzo ball, mushroom and barley and her split pea soups. To this day – they are in my repertoire, her borscht, not so much.

There is a diner I stop at in New York’s Hudson Valley, purposely for their Manhattan clam chowder which appears on the menu every other Friday. They alternate with New England style, another favorite for so many.

Some of you might have an affinity for tomato soup from the iconic red and white can! By the way, it was John T. Dorrance who worked as a chemist, before he became president of Campbell Soup, and went on to invent condensed soup. His invention allowed the can to be smaller and sold at a lower price, since the shipping costs were lower. Just add a can of water at home.

Can you pass the “Soup 101” test?

• What is the name for beet soup?

• What is the name of the fish stew created in Marseilles, France?

• Where did Mulligatawny soup originate?

What soup is Cajun, popular in New Orleans, and made with meat, seafood and vegetables often served over rice?

• What artist produced pictures of soup cans?

• What is the Japanese soup made with fermented bean paste?

• What is the French word for a restaurant’s featured daily soup?

• What is the name of the book series where each title contains the word soup?

• What is the most popular soup variety in the United States?

Answers: Borscht, Bouillabaisse, India, Gumbo, Andy Warhol, Miso, soup du jour, Chicken Soup for the Soul, chicken noodle

It is the perfect time to celebrate National Soup Month. So, get out the biggest pot you have, and to add to your repertoire of soups, pick up a copy of “Cook’s Illustrated All Time Best Soups,” by the editors at America’s Test Kitchen (2016, $22.95) The latter three recipes below are from the book.

After reading the it, you will realize that making a kettle of soup isn’t difficult. Their tips are helpful. You might have wondered why many recipes say to use a sturdy pot. It transfers heat evenly and prevents scorching. The editors give pot recommendations. You’ll learn how to: sauté the aromatics, choose a good stock if you don’t make your own, cut the vegetables the right way, and learn why to simmer and not boil.

When I make soup, I make quite a bit. The section on storing, freezing, thawing, and reheating soup provides helpful ideas. Here is a hint for creamy soups and soups that have a pasta component that won’t freeze well. This works if you are making the soup in advance and immediately freeze it. “The dairy curdles as it freezes, and the pasta turns bloated and mushy. Instead, make and freeze the soup without the dairy or pasta component included. After you have thawed the soup and it has been heated through, either stir in the uncooked pasta and simmer until just tender or stir in the dairy and continue to heat gently until hot (do not let it boil).”

There are chapters on:

“Weeknight Workhorses” such as chicken and ramen, easy black bean with chorizo, and Turkish tomato, bulgar, and red pepper soup. For the latter recipe, visit https://bit.ly/2QfmFde

Soups from around the world: Matzo ball, Italian Wedding Soup, Russian style beef and cabbage, Thai-style chicken soup

Chowders: New England Clam; Manhattan, lobster and corn, celeriac, fennel, and apple

Modern vegetable soups: super greens soup with lemon tarragon cream, hearty cabbage soup, artichoke soup a la barigoule

Elegant purees: creamy cauliflower, sweet potato, and the recipe below for creamless creamy tomato soup

Rustic bean soups: Tuscan white bean, Moroccan-style chickpea, black bean with chipotle chiles

Stocks and broths: classic chicken stock, beef bone broth, vegetable broth base

Turkish Kebab House Restaurant Red Lentil Soup — The red lentil soup served at the Turkish Kebab House in West Haven, CT was requested by many readers in a column I wrote many years ago. It is one of my favorites. (Photo by Stephen Fries)

Turkish Kebab House Red Lentil Soup

1 pound red lentils

1 medium carrot, shredded

2 medium onions, chopped

9 cups water, divided

3 tablespoons olive oil

1 tablespoon butter

2 tablespoons flour

1 tablespoon tomato paste

¾ tablespoon dried mint

¼ tablespoon salt

¼ tablespoon pepper

Lemon wedges

Put lentils, carrot onions and 4 ½ cups water in a large pot and bring to a boil. Reduce heat to medium-low until lentils are cooked. Put aside.

In a second pot, put olive oil and butter over high heat until butter is melted. Lower heat to medium and add flour tomato paste and mint, salt and pepper. Mix well. Add 4 ½ cups water and bring to a boil. Add the boiled lentil mixture to the pot and return to a boil. Reduce to medium-low heat and cook for 20 minutes. Continue to stir so soup does not become too thick. Serves 6-8. Serve with lemon wedges for squeezing into soup.

Creamless Creamy Tomato Soup. A warm bowl of tomato soup brings out the kid in all of us. (Photo Credit: America’s Test Kitchen)

Creamless Creamy Tomato Soup

The headnote says: “Why This Recipe Works: A warm bowl of tomato soup brings out the kid in all of us. Our homemade version satisfies a grown-up palate with its creamy texture and fresh taste. We wanted a tomato soup that would have velvety smoothness and a bright tomato taste—without flavor-dulling cream. We started with canned tomatoes for their convenience and year-round availability. Sautéing an onion in olive oil ramped up the sweet notes of the tomatoes and a little brown sugar balanced the tomatoes’ acidity. A surprise ingredient—slices of crustless white bread torn into pieces and blended into the soup—helped give our tomato soup luxurious body without adding cream. Make sure to purchase canned whole tomatoes in juice, not in puree. If half of the soup fills your blender by more than two-thirds, process the soup in three batches. For an even smoother soup, pass the pureed mixture through a fine-mesh strainer after blending it. Serve with Classic Croutons (a crouton recipe provided in book).”

¼ cup extra-virgin olive oil, plus extra for serving

1 onion, chopped fine

3 garlic cloves, minced

1 bay leaf

Pinch red pepper flakes (optional)

2 (28-ounce) cans whole peeled tomatoes

3 slices hearty white sandwich bread, crusts removed, torn into 1-inch pieces

1 tablespoon packed brown sugar

2 cups chicken or vegetable broth

2 tablespoons brandy (optional)

Salt and pepper

¼ cup minced fresh chives

Heat 2 tablespoons oil in Dutch oven over medium-high heat until shimmering. Add onion, garlic, bay leaf, and pepper flakes, if using. Cook, stirring often, until onion is translucent, 3 to 5 minutes. Stir in tomatoes and their juice. Using potato masher, mash until no pieces bigger than 2 inches remain. Stir in bread and sugar and bring soup to boil. Reduce heat to medium and cook, stirring occasionally, until bread is completely saturated and starts to break down, about 5 minutes. Discard bay leaf.

Transfer half of soup to blender. Add 1 tablespoon oil and puree until soup is smooth and creamy, 2 to 3 minutes. Transfer to large bowl and repeat with remaining soup and remaining 1 tablespoon oil. Return pureed soup to clean pot. Stir in broth and brandy, if using. Return soup to boil and season with salt and pepper to taste. Serve, sprinkling individual bowls with chives and drizzling with oil. Serves 6 to 8

Manhattan Clam Chowder – This recipe uses more clams and homemade clam broth to balance the strong flavor of the tomatoes and other vegetables. (Photo Credit: America’s Test Kitchen)

Manhattan Clam Chowder

The headnote says: “Why This Recipe Works…Our Manhattan clam chowder is head and shoulders above most versions because it has a briny bivalve taste right up front. This soup has a reputation for being boring because it’s usually more about the tomatoes than the clams. Our secret? We use lots more clams and homemade clam broth to balance the strong flavor of the tomatoes and other vegetables. Medium-size hard-shell clams provided both the flavor for the broth and the clam meat for the chowder. We opted for canned diced tomatoes to let the clams take center stage. Smashing some of the tender potatoes released more of their starch and helped thicken the broth. When reheating, do not boil the chowder or it will toughen the clams. Use a Dutch oven or stockpot that holds 6 quarts or more and has a tight-fitting lid for this recipe.”

4 cups water

8 pounds medium hard-shell clams, such as cherrystones, scrubbed

2 slices thick-cut bacon, cut into ¼-inch pieces

1 large onion, chopped fine

1 small red bell pepper, stemmed, seeded, and chopped fine

1 carrot, peeled and chopped fine

1 celery rib, chopped fine

4 garlic cloves, minced

1 teaspoon dried oregano

½ cup dry white wine

1¼ pounds Yukon Gold potatoes, peeled and cut into ¼-inch pieces

1 (8-ounce) bottle clam juice

1 large bay leaf

2 (14.5-ounce) cans diced tomatoes

Salt and pepper

2 tablespoons chopped fresh parsley

Bring water to boil in Dutch oven over medium-high heat. Add clams, cover, and cook for 5 minutes. Stir clams thoroughly and continue to cook, covered, until they begin to open, 2 to 7 minutes. As clams open, transfer them to large bowl and let cool slightly. Discard any unopened clams. Measure out and reserve 5 cups clam steaming liquid, avoiding any gritty sediment that has settled on bottom of pot. (If broth measures less than 5 cups, add enough water to equal 5 cups.) Open clams with paring knife, holding clams over bowl to catch any juices. Using knife, sever muscle that attaches clambelly to shell and transfer meat to cutting board. Discard shells. Cut clams into ½-inch pieces; set aside.

Clean now-empty Dutch oven, add bacon, and cook over medium heat until crisp, 5 to 7 minutes. Add onion, bell pepper, carrot, and celery. Reduce heat to low, cover, and cook until softened, about 10 minutes. Add garlic and oregano and sauté until fragrant, about 1 minute.

Add wine and increase heat to high. Boil wine until it reduces by half, 2 to 3 minutes. Add potatoes, clam juice, bay leaf, and reserved clam broth. Bring to boil, reduce heat to medium-low, and simmer until potatoes are almost tender, 8 to 10 minutes. Using wooden spoon, smash a few potatoes against side of pot. Simmer to release potato starch, about 2 minutes.

Add tomatoes and their juice, return to simmer, and cook for 5 minutes. Off heat, stir in reserved clams and season with salt and pepper to taste; discard bay leaf. Stir in parsley and serve. Serves 8.

To Make Ahead: Prepare recipe up through discarding bay leaf in step 4 and refrigerate for up to 2 days. To reheat, warm over low heat until hot then stir in parsley just before serving.

Thai-Style Chicken Soup – With this recipe in your arsenal, you can enjoy the addictive flavors of Thai soup any time, not just when dining out. (Photo Credit: America’s Test Kitchen)

Thai-Style Chicken Soup

The headnote says: “Why This Recipe Works…With this recipe in your arsenal, you can enjoy the addictive flavors of Thai soup any time, not just when dining out. For an authentic-tasting Thai chicken soup without all the hard-to-find ingredients, we began by making a rich base with chicken broth and coconut milk. Thai curry paste from the supermarket was an easy substitution for the assortment of obscure ingredients like makrut lime leaves, galangal, and bird chiles used in from-scratch recipes. Pungent fish sauce and tart lime juice contributed the salty and sour flavors. Although we prefer the deeper, richer flavor of regular coconut milk, light coconut milk can be substituted for one or both cans. The fresh lemon grass can be omitted, but the soup will lack some complexity; don’t be tempted to use jarred or dried lemon grass, as both have characterless flavor. If you want a spicier soup, add more red curry paste to taste. To make the chicken easier to slice, freeze it for 15 minutes.

1 teaspoon vegetable oil

3 stalks lemon grass, bottom 5 inches only, minced

3 large shallots, chopped coarse

8 sprigs fresh cilantro, chopped, plus whole leaves for serving

3 tablespoons fish sauce

4 cups chicken broth

2 (13.5-ounce) cans coconut milk

1 tablespoon sugar

8 ounces white mushrooms, trimmed and sliced thin

1 pound boneless, skinless chicken breasts, trimmed, halved lengthwise, and sliced ¼ inch thick

3 tablespoons lime juice (2 limes), plus wedges for serving

2 teaspoons Thai red curry paste

2 fresh Thai, serrano, or jalapeño chiles, stemmed, seeded, and sliced thin

2 scallions, sliced thin on bias

Heat oil in large saucepan over medium heat until shimmering. Add lemon grass, shallots, chopped cilantro sprigs, and 1 tablespoon fish sauce and cook, stirring often, until just softened but not browned, 2 to 5 minutes.

Stir in broth and 1 can coconut milk and bring to simmer. Cover, reduce heat to gentle simmer, and cook until flavors have blended, about 10 minutes. Strain broth through fine-mesh strainer. (Broth can be refrigerated for up to 1 day.)

Return strained broth to clean saucepan, stir in remaining can coconut milk and sugar, and bring to simmer. Stir in mushrooms and cook until just tender, 2 to 3 minutes. Stir in chicken and cook until no longer pink, 1 to 3 minutes.

Remove soup from heat. Whisk lime juice, curry paste, and remaining 2 tablespoons fish sauce together in bowl to dissolve curry, then stir mixture into soup. Ladle into bowls and sprinkle with cilantro leaves, chiles, and scallions. Serve with lime wedges. Serves 6.

Stephen Fries, is a newly retired professor and coordinator of the Hospitality Management Programs at Gateway Community College, in New Haven, CT. He has been a food and culinary travel columnist for the past 14 years and is co-founder of and host of “Worth Tasting,” a culinary walking tour of downtown New Haven, CT. He is a board member of the International Association of Culinary Professionals. [email protected] For more, go to stephenfries.com.

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itsbeaconhillsbaby · 4 years ago

Text

shatter us || tom holland x reader

a/n: hello gorgeous people. this is not the cutesy road trip fic that I have planned - the follow up for a luminous love. but instead just a little sprinkle, little dash of some angst for your casual sunday. yikes, I hope you all still enjoy (still ends fluffy bc I'm not a heathen...yet)

since I love hearing your thoughts so much, is there anything you’d personally like to see from me, alongside what i’m working on? hit me up and I might just work on some fic for you, got a full week off work so let me know! as always, stay wonderful and come chat! x

word count: 2166 warnings: we do have a swear and some smashed glass, some sad thoughts but nothing too dark or dangerous - very tame summary: emotional outbursts lead to some much needed conversations

6:10.

There was a lack of chirping birds that morning. The sun stayed behind the clouds, keeping itself out of view. The air cold and stale. Sheets were pulled taught at either end of the bed. Two bodies, usually yearning to be held in each other’s embrace clutching instead to their designated edges.

You were fearful to exhale your breath, one small movement and this frozen moment could all come crashing down around you. As though you were stood at the very edge of a precipice, toes hanging over the side. One tiny blow away from tumbling into a dark abyss.

Before you thought your chest was going to explode from the inside, you felt the springs next to you dip only slightly. The signs of someone moving.

He hadn’t moved all night. You wondered if he’d managed to catch any sleep at all before you felt the bed dip further as he untangled his legs from the sheets, heading into the en suite bathroom.

You reached a hand out from your cocoon, your phone lighting up as you tilted it towards you.

10 missed calls.

15 texts

You’d told your best friend that you’d screwed everything up, unwilling to reveal what happened before you let your tears lull to into a restless sleep.

You weren’t sure at what time Tom joined you. Sighing, you heard the click of your phone locking as you lay it back down.

Tom comes back out of the bathroom, slowing slightly as he sees you curled up in the corner of the bed instead of star-fished or snuggling into his pillow as you usually did when he left the room – resulting in playfighting or cuddles.

“I think we need to talk.”

His voice was rough and scratchy. You slid yourself up against the headboard, pulling your jumper sleeves over your hands and nodding in agreement. You couldn’t speak yet, you weren’t sure you knew how. Words refusing to form as your stomach churned.

“Okay, I’ll see you downstairs then.” He grabs a hoodie of his own before leaving the room, you could hear him moving through the flat.

You take a few deep breaths, taking note of the room around you. glancing over the space you had shared for the past year and a half. Something told you this could be the last morning you’d wake up here.

Exhaling, you slide your feet onto the golden wood crossing the room to reach the bathroom. You splash water over your face, fluffy towel ready to catch the droplets before finishing up.

“Here we go,” you mumble to yourself as you push against the sink counter and head for the kitchen.

////

Tom fills up the kettle, unfocussed eyes staring into the distance. He put it back on its stand before flicking down the switch.

A hand ran through his messy bed head of curls. This was all so wrong, all of it. He told you that he wanted to talk but as he routinely made two teas, he didn’t have a clue what he was going to say. But he began filming in four days and you both had to fix this tension between you. For the first time, you were both unsure of what the outcome would be.

Taking a small brush and pan over to the wall he brushes up the broken glass, hearing it tinkle as he gathers it into the pan, releasing it into the bin, frustrated at his own outburst the previous night.

He’s against the counter stirring the two mugs when you walk in. He motions to the sofa.

He takes you in as you stand in front of him, shyer and more nervous that he’d ever seen you. He hated that you felt like that. Drowning in one of his sweatshirts and a pair of his cotton shorts, your face was tinged pink and he hoped that you hadn’t been crying in the short time it took to make your teas.

You gave a small smile of thanks at the steaming mug he slid across to you before heading to the sofa. You rolled your shoulders, caressing the mug between your hands - letting the heat warm them.

“I’m so sorry-“

You both blurt out simultaneously. His eyes twinkle slightly, as he huffed out a slight chuckle.

“Well that’s a good start at least.”

You nod, stifling a nervous laugh, mouth upturned. He offers you to go first. You take a sip of your tea, letting it soothe your nauseous stomach.

Swallowing, you trace your finger around the rim of your mug. Closing your eyes for a single moment before staring into his, so wide and filled with hurt.

Last night played on repeat in your head.

“Stop saying you love me as a response for when things get too hard - it’s just words Tom! Just because you love me doesn’t mean that I feel loved by you!”

Tom’s mouth fell open, eyes wide as he stood transfixed on you. You stared at him in shock, completely taken aback by your own outburst. The room was blanketed in an unforgiving silence, your voice wobbling at the building honesty that had come tumbling out.

“Wow. I offered to fly you out to be with me before filming officially started for fucks sake! You declined! Was that not enough for you?! Does that not show you I love you? My career is important and I’m sorry that annoys you!”

“That is not what I meant Tom, and you know it.”

His brows furrow, eyes darkening with anger. You wanted to straighten them out with your fingers, lightly gliding over the uncontrollable hairs and press a feathery light kiss in the space between them. Something you usually did when he was tense or frustrated.

“Please, enlighten me then.”

“Fly across the other side of the world to do what?! Sit in silence in a room with you as you read over scripts with Harry. Sit alone in a room whilst you meet the cast and team, stay away so you can go for your lush dinners and lunches. And then fly out when things get underway, that’s unless I want to sit in your trailer day in and day out. I love you Tom and I support you and I think you’re brilliant - I always will think that. But being your hidden girlfriend is exhausting and lonely, and I don’t know if I can do it!”

You’ve never been this vulnerable with Tom before. You’d never let on before how hard it could be sometimes being his girlfriend, how utterly alone you felt. How much of a stranger you felt in regards to Tom and parts of his life.

“Then don’t! If you hate it so much, then don’t be my girlfriend then. Problem solved!”

You gasp slightly, standing completely rigid. Heart pounding in your ears, heat rising through your entire body. You can feel the moisture building behind your eyes, trying so hard to keep it at bay.

“Fine. Wow. Easy fix for the golden boy, got it.”

And with that you turn on your heel and head straight into the bedroom. Door slamming behind you.

Tom throws his beer bottle at the opposite wall. Hands going straight up to his face as he let out a cry of frustration. Glass shards littering the floor.

“Fuck!”

////

“I’m so sorry for saying what I said. It didn’t come out right and I don’t know, I think I was just being dramatic and anno-“

Tom cuts you off with a shake of his head, resting one hand on your leg.

“Don’t do that. Please don’t do that. My response was completely irrational, but you...you were honest and hurt and valid. Do not deny your emotions to make me feel better, that’s not going to fix this. You know I love you, you said it yourself, but you don’t feel loved - and that’s on me.”

You bite the inside of your lip, looking down into your swirling cup. Your heart was beating so fast, it was making you feel almost dizzy.

“I feel pathetic, please let’s just forget it happened Tom.”

Tom takes the cup out of your hand, planting it on the coffee table in front of the couch. He pulls your legs that little bit closer, your body moving forward, closing the gap between you both.

“I can’t forget it. I’ve been playing it on repeat all night. Please just be honest with me. I want to listen. I want to understand.”

You exhale a shaky sigh,

“Sometimes it’s just so much harder than I ever thought it would be, Tom. I love how much you adore your job, you inspire me every single day as I watch you inspire millions of people. but sometimes I feel like an outsider looking in on your life. Instead of feeling like someone you want to share your life with, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t hate that.”

He nods, his forehead creasing slightly as he takes in your words, and presses for you to continue,

“And take away all that comes with your job. On the rare days when it’s just me and you, you make me feel so alive. I feel needed and wanted and loved. So loved. But it’s not enough for me to have a few gulps of that feeling. God, it sounds so selfish. I hear it from my own mouth and I sound ridiculous.”

You take a pause. wishing for your voice to straighten out. For that wobble to stop as you can see the concern on Tom’s face rising,

“Maybe there’s been a reason we’ve kept it a secret for so long, because you and I both know that the minute this gets out...everything is going to crumble beneath us, and I’m the one not going to be able to handle it.”

You let out a shaky breath, sniffling as you wipe your eyes with your sleeve.

When you didn’t start up again, Tom gave a deep sigh, before pressing ahead,

“I’ve been doing this all wrong. I thought keeping you out of things would protect you, we agreed on that being the best option. And in the beginning it was. The sneaking around, the constant phone calls, video calls, surprise visits - we did it all.”

You nod in agreement. Your heart sinking. Even though you’d brought it on yourself, letting your insecurities and loneliness take over - you still weren’t ready for the inevitable goodbye that was coming your way.

“But we’ve grown individually, and our relationship has grown. And yeah, there’s a part of me who still wants to keep you all to myself, I know what press and fans can be like. But you’re right.”

You look up at him through wet eyelashes. He catches a tear with his thumb, wiping it away from your cheek,

“I’m not losing you to my own fear. And you’re not losing me to yours.”

“Wait, what?” you whisper, confused.

“You need to talk to me. You need to tell me when I’m not pulling my weight in this relationship, when you’re feeling low like this. Sometimes I do get stuck in my own world a little...and you’re the one suffering for it.”

“So. You do still want me as your girlfriend?” More traitorous tears fall from your eyes, your body relaxing and therefore no longer willing to keep them at bay.

“Oh my god I can’t believe I said that. Of course, I do! There’s no still wanting about it, I’ve always wanted you. Never questioned it for a second. The real question is, do you want to make this public? I want this to be your choice. It’s going to be crazy, but I promise you, I’ll be beside you every single step of the way. I won’t make you feel like you’re on your own again, I promise. Or, if you feel like it’s too much…then we figure something else out.”

He cups the side of your face, thumb still trailing after the tear tracks.

“I’m just scared that it’ll break us, Tom. But we can’t keep going as we are.”

He nods in understanding,

“I won’t let it break us. You have me, all of me, for however long you want.”

You pushed your forehead against his shoulder, his hands coming up to cradle the back of your head as you curl into him.

He can feel your body quivering against him as you finally let yourself feel all the emotions you’d gone through in the past 12 hours, feelings you’d been hiding for far longer than that.

“I’m so sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologise. I think we needed this. Now we can be better, work harder on loving each other properly. Communicate.”

“I love you. I love you. I love you.” You whisper into his chest, “I thought I’d ruined everything.”

He squeezes his eyes clothes. pressing his lips to the top of your head, releasing soft kisses in between every couple of words,

“No, you’ve not ruined anything. All you’ve done is remind me how much I truly love you. And every day I promise I’m going to show you just how much.”

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland blurbs #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x you #tom holland imagine #tom holland angst #tom holland fic #this is my first time delving into the angst side of this and I hope all the pieces connect and its got a natural feel to it #hopefully not too ott #agh the stress #lisa writes

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mi6-cafe · 4 years ago

Photo

THE FINAL DRABBLES ARE IN!

COME READ THEM AND DECIDE WHOSE IS THE BEST, BETTER THAN ALL THE REST!

But first, what was the prompt again?

Our writers had to use the phrase “be careful what you fish for” in their 300-word drabbles verbatim.

See the drabbles below the line and VOTE!

(Image description: James Bond off on a fishing expedition)

But how, mods, how do we vote? you ask.

Step 1: Read the drabbles, making notes along the way.

Step 2: Pick three favourites and vote for them in the VOTING FORM while adding feedback for others if you so choose!

Step 3: Profit! (Because it’s all anonymous and even the writers you didn’t vote for end up getting your lovely feedback and it makes them so happy!)

You have until Sunday at 8:59 9.m. PST/11:59 p.m. EST/3:59 a.m. UTC to cast your vote.

Now, come READ&VOTE! (You can also read on wordpress for nicer formatting)

Title: Compliments Author: sunaddicted Warnings: explicit flirting Summary: Q wasn't expecting to hear such a compliment

Seeing Silva bent down over his computer still sent a thrill down Q's spine; despite the fact that the man had become a more or less permanent fixture in Q-Branch, it didn't mean that the adrenaline kick he got out of facing the former rogue agent had gotten any weaker.

"That's some of my best work."

"Is it."

Q swallowed as he went to stand by the other man, peering down at the lines of code that Silva was studying with the kind of keen eye that made Q squirm, feeling naked even when Silva was looking at his work rather than directly at him.

Though, what was his work if not an extension of his being?

"Are you fishing for compliments, Quartermaster?"

Saying his title in such a caressing and satiny voice should have been made illegal. "Do I need to?" Q tried to ignore the hint of neediness in his voice, even as the flush he could feel blooming up his neck surely betrayed him. He couldn't help it: in his life, he had only met a man who was his equal - better, he had only met a man who could code circles around him, pushing him to do better; to think faster; to outgrow himself. It was exciting.

Raoul slowly turned around, a smirk already painted on his lips. "You have a great arse I would like to bend over this sturdy desk of yours."

"Wh- what?!"

The blonde bent down, lips ghosting against the shell of Q's ear in a caress that was barely there. "Be careful what you fish for, Quartermaster," Silva reached down and closed his hand on the other's hip in a steadying manner, fingers digging into the jutting bone there "You never know what kind of compliment will get thrown your way."

Title: A Fine Kettle Author: Anyawen Warnings: none Summary: LIke shooting fish in a barrel, really.

"This isn't what I had in mind when I said I needed an exit," Bond groused as his feet squelched in his ruined shoes. He'd never get the stink of fish out of this suit. He'd be lucky to scrub it off his skin.

"Well, you know what they say, 007. Be careful what you fish for," Q said, snorting at his own joke as Bond groaned.

"Don't even start, Q," Bond growled. Well. Tried to growl. If it came out as an amused whine Q was polite enough not to call attention to it.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," Q said primly. "I found you an exit and left your adversaries floundering. You didn't even pull a mussel."

"I've endured torture more pleasant than—"

"Stop your carping; you’re giving me a haddock."

Bond inhaled slowly. Exhaled.

"What will it take to make you stop?"

"You'll have to shell out more than a few clams."

"Q," Bond begged. Yes. Begged. And yet, he knew that if he were standing in front of a mirror right now his reflection would be grinning. Q's jokes were terrible, and his puns were worse, but hearing him so lost in his amusement was a glorious thing.

"Bring all of your gear back for a start. No losing or breaking anything just for the halibut."

"I'll do my best," Bond promised.

"And dinner."

"I beg your pardon?" Bond asked, shocked. He'd been asking the Quartermaster to dinner for weeks.

"You need time to mullet over. That's fine. Just let minnow."

"Yes, Q. Obviously, yes."

"Excellent. I'm thinking sushi."

Bond couldn't help the laugh that slipped out. He could hear Q's smug grin.

"Just squidding," Q said, then hurried to add, "About the sushi. Not about dinner. And dessert. And afters."

"Afters?"

"Cuttles."

Title: Retrieval Author: stormofsharpthings Warnings: none Summary: Q knew it had never been about her

Q came upon Dr Madeleine Swann serenely fishing from the riverbank. “Got one,” she announced, before handing the rod to him and walking away. Bemused, Q tugged, and the fish leapt from the murky river into his hand, scales flowing like water to engulf his entire arm. Face to face, it gave him a toothy grin.

“Be careful what you fish for,” it snickered as the trees around him exploded with gobbets of blue flame. Q dove into the river to escape and was dragged deeper, drowning, webbed hands holding him tight.

He flailed awake to a bed stained green with murky water, strands of river weed draped about. The windows were wide open, moonlight making the wet marks on the floor glisten.

“James?” he whispered. There was no answer. Not since James had taken the damn car and driven off. But there had been enough clues.

----

He took the river road, heading north. Every bridge was washed-out, every access to his destination blocked. He finally came upon an old-style ferry, its raft drawn along a heavy cable strung across the river.

The old raftman eyed him, then shrugged. Halfway across, the raft slowed as if hung up on something. The ferryman cursed and stamped his boot on the boards. As the raft drifted free again, he gave Q a wry look. “Hope you know what you’re about, lad.”

----

The waterhorse waited for him at the loch edge, burning eyes watching him warily as he approached.

“I never believed you left for her,” he said, tangling his hands in the wet mane. “And all the warnings of all the fair folk in the world couldn't keep me away.” He swung astride and held on. “You can either drown me or come home with me, James. It’s up to you, now.”

Title: Gone Fishing Author: Hexiva Warnings: None Summary: Alec is just trying to have a nice vacation. James has other plans.

Alec is fishing. He’s taken some much-needed vacation time after a knife to the leg on his last mission, and he’s chosen to go to Jamaica, in part because of how James’ face falls when he learns Alec is going without him. James loves Jamaica. Alec, for his part, loves having anything that James can’t have. The sky is blue. The ocean is a beautiful shade of blue-green. Alec lets his line dangle down into the warm water, and leans back in his boat with a sigh of contentment. And then the peace of the summer day is shattered as the water erupts, and a black-clad figure in scuba gear surges up out of the sea, gasping, and clambers into Alec’s boat, almost upsetting it. Alec’s hand flies to his gun, but before he can draw it, the diver pulls off his mask and reveals James’ familiar face. James is bruised and bleeding, and he gasps out, “Near miss. Good thing you were here.” “What the hell are you doing here?!” Alec demands. “I’m on vacation, James!” “Underwater base,” James explains, pointing down into the depths of the ocean. “Spying on our submarines. Blew it up and escaped.” “How do you do it, James?” Alec says, acidly. “How is it that no matter where you go - no matter where I go - there always seems to be some madman with an increasingly improbable scheme gunning for you? Can’t I have one vacation to myself?” It’s not James’ company he minds. It’s that this was supposed to be something he could take away from James. A chance to one-up the always charming James Bond. “Well, Alec,” James said, leaning in with his charming smile. “You know what they say. Be careful what you fish for.” “I hate you,” Alec said, with feeling.

Title: Dare to Wish Author: sorion Warnings: none Summary: A very nice welcome-home.

"Are you going to put away that blasted machine?" Bond asked, not even looking away from his skilled cooking.

"Hm?" Q hummed distractedly, not ceasing his typing.

"Your laptop, darling," Bond complained, making 'darling' sound more like a demand than an endearment. "Hm." The typing never faltered.

Bond reduced the heat on one of the other pans that he was juggling on the stove. "I was gone for over a month," he grumbled. "I even dared to hope that you were looking forward to seeing me again."

Q smiled, and the typing slowed. "One minute, and I'll be all yours, and yet you'll still be giving your attention to our dinner."

Bond couldn't help but grin. "What's so terribly important anyway?"

"Oh, just some matter of national security that I'd like off the table before we eat."

Bond laughed. "Bare feet, unbuttoned shirt, and saving the world. A marvel, you are."

"One step up from working in my pyjamas," Q quipped.

Bond sighed. "I'm never going to live that down, am I? What about the incident where you basically plugged Silva into our network?"

Q pulled a face. "That was... my first week as Q, and I desperately wanted to prove myself, and I may have-"

"Q," Bond interrupted. "I won't let you live it down, but I'm not holding it against you."

Q smiled. "Thanks. I do, on very rare occasions, get insecure."

"There's no need. Everyone knows how brilliant you are. And there's no need to be fishing for compliments."

"Not tonight. I'm just... fishing for affection."

His typing instantly stopped when a small box of unmistakable shape was put in front of him.

Bond caught his eyes and smiled. "Be careful what you fish for."

Q's breath stuck in his throat, and his eyes lit up. "Never."

Title: A Fishy Companion Author: Nana-chan Warnings: Summary: Bond makes friends with a merman

“Bond,” said the creature, his tone quite serious.

Bond merely grunted as he continued to mend his nets. He would not even look at the creature as he swam around him in the shallow water, his movements graceful. A bloody merman, for god’s sake. He’d found him tangled in his nets after a fishing expedition some way from the island and the merman, having been rescued, refused to leave Bond’s side ever since.

Now he queried: “Why is the fisherman so stingy?”

“I’m sure you’re going to tell me whether I want to hear it or not,” said Bond brusquely.

The merman replied, “Because his work made him sell-fish.”

Bond closed his eyes briefly. He’d been a double-O agent— a bloody good one— once upon a time. So long ago, it seemed. Retirement on this remote Caribbean island, in a wooden house with its own small pier, had been something he’d dreamed of, until retirement became more like exile and solitude gave way to loneliness.

Until this.

Bond found himself smiling despite himself as the merman persisted, “Why did the fisherman start doing drugs?”

“I don’t know. Why did he?”

“Pier pressure.”

The merman was beautiful, with dark hair and large green eyes that gazed into his rather owlishly. For reasons of his own, he’d named him Q.

Bond looked away. “I think I need a massage,” he said, wincing as he flexed his biceps.

“Have you heard about the Sauna that serves food?” Q piped up. “Their specialty is steamed mussels.”

“Why you—” Bond laughed before he could stop himself. “I ought to have left you in the nets. That might have made you less talkative.”

The merman swam up to him and settled his head boldly on his lap.

“Be careful what you fish for,” said Q, smiling.

Title: Go Fish Author: soufflegirl91 Warnings: adult humour Summary: Q Branch tech must be recovered no matter where the double-ohs lose it.

“Another bloody spoon,” Bond complained, releasing it from the magnet and tossing it on the pile building up at his feet. “How do people even lose spoons in a lake?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe the same way you lose proprietary weaponry?”

“Q, for the last time, I didn’t-”

“Can we get any closer to the middle?” Q cut him off, tapping a few times on his tablet screen. “Maybe if we start at the deepest point and move outwards?”

Bond sighed, dropping the line back into the boat with a clatter. He pulled the engine cord, and with a roar, they were moving.

“THIS SHOULD DO,” Q yelled over the din.

Bond brought them to a stop, but Q didn’t wait for the engine to die down before continuing:

“I’VE ACTIVATED THE HOMING BEACON. THE LAKE’S DEEPER THAN I’D LIKE, BUT I SHOULD GET A SIGNAL ONCE WE’RE-” the engine died down with a final splutter, leaving Q yelling, “DIRECTLY OVER IT - oh.”

“You don’t get out on the water much, do you?” Bond quirked a grin at his flustered Quartermaster, flinging out the line on the starboard side.

“I wouldn’t have to get out on the water at all, if you didn’t go throwing away rocket launchers like they were crisp packets. Bond, what are you doing? I haven’t got a signal, yet.”

“Signal or not, I’ve caught something.”

Bond pulled on the Q-branch reinforced line, trying to reel it in. Whatever the line had caught, it was heavy. Finally, his catch cleared the water line.

He stared.

“Is that a tentacle dil-?”

“Well, you know what they say,” Q cut in.

He giggled. Giggled. Bond had a terrible feeling he knew what was coming next.

“No. Don’t you dare say it.”

“Be careful what you fish for!”

Title: Do I Really Want To Know? Author: IrishWitch58 Warnings: none Summary: Mallory contemplates a recent mission and the behavior of agent and Quartermaster.

Mallory hadn't gotten to his present position without understanding the value of differing approaches to acquiring information. There were circumstances when a simple question was all that was required. There were others when a figurative bludgeon was necessary. That was more often the case when he had someone dead to rights and just wanted an admission. But when something was more delicate, a search for something he suspected but hadn't been able to prove, he needed the skills of a wily fisherman tricking a trout out from under a rock to rise to the bait.

It was unacceptable that his Quartermaster and 007 had gone off coms for eighteen hours. True, the mission was completed, but Bond's bad habits seemed to have rubbed off on Q. Interviewing both had been useless. 'Yes', 'no' and 'equipment failure' were the sum of the responses. Utterly respectful but complete obstruction from both.

They were hiding something and he was worried. Certainly, disloyalty was possible but he had thought better of both of them. There was a chime from his computer and he glanced at the incoming message from accounting. “Can we have some clarification on these charges, please? Uncertain whether these are mission related.”

Mallory scanned the receipts. A moderately expensive hotel suite, room service, and a concierge fee for a trip to a chemist. All charged to one of Bond's aliases. On impulse he called the hotel. Five minutes later he ended the call and stared at the phone. Well, better than treachery certainly but still, Bond and Q? The concierge had found the couple charming and was sure they were a couple. Be careful what you fish for. Now what was he supposed to do? Better that they hadn't admitted anything. He didn't have to act if he didn't officially know.

Title: Shark Bait Author: Venstar / 1amvengeance Warnings: violence? People dedding Summary: what would you do for those you love?

Bond swam to the ladder access of the dock. A creak of the boards and he froze in place. He swung himself up, his movement was swift and deadly. The guard dropped as suddenly as he had appeared. Bond rolled him into the water. Through the mist, he could just barely make out the tip of a fin. He smiled. It was cold, calculating, and lacking in teeth.

“Almost there.” Bond smiled as a soft breath was let out over comms. “Were you worried?”

“About you or my mortgage and two cats? Because if you live, then maybe M won’t find out about this.”

This time Bond’s smile was wide and bright. “I’m glad we agree then.”

Bond cut a slit through his wetsuit until he could see his skin underneath. Slightly tan with a smattering of darker freckles. Was that a new mole? Maybe he should have it checked out. Too late. Blood welled up from where the mole had been. He grimaced.

“Bond? What are you doing?”

“Chumming the water.” He heard Q’s sharp intake of breath at the sound of him re-entering the water.

“Bond. This is the worst idea on the list of bad ideas.”

“I know what I’m doing, Q. Moving in, now.”

Silence from the other end as Q listened to him work. He slid through the water, coming up just under the opening of the warehouse. He pulled himself out, his eyes on his targets. He spared one glance for his lover, hoping that Felix could keep the two men distracted enough for him to...yes...to do that. The two men were tossed cut and bleeding into the dark water behind him. Their shouts of surprise turned into screams of pain and terror.

"Be careful what you fish for." Bond murmured, smiling at Felix.

#10

Title: Witnessed Author: oldestcharm Warnings: n/a Summary: James observes Q's methods. It pays off. Q is flexible. He can play an agent like a fiddle. Any time, any place. He knows exactly how to approach his agents — something James is rather impressed by. He'll let them stew for half an hour when necessary; he'll cosy up to them, all charm and innocence; or play up the socially inept IT intern. Sometimes, he gets mean. James particularly likes that part of Q. Whichever it is, though, Q's got them all wrapped around his long capable fingers. James can't look away. He hears from 002 about the 'banger of a DnD game' she apparently raked in the loot for. He also learns about the Deck of Many Things. It's surprisingly accurate for whatever happens next.

009 loses a chess match and gets equipped with a tractor instead of the Jeep he'd requested, although it goes 300 mph and has multiple cannons attached.

005 fails a coin toss and gains a squirt gun full of holy water for her mission at the Vatican. With a quirk of a smile, Q suggests Russian Roulette to Alec. He wins, but just barely.

Q equips his agents with the bare necessities, but unlike his predecessor, they all have to earn the goods. Q's gambling and James is determined to get his own. Q, ever the gentleman, asks what he's willing to play.

"Let's Go Fishin'," James tells him and just for a second Q looks startled. James' lips twitch into a reluctant smile.

"Be careful what you fish for," Q tells him, voice low and enticing. James leans forward, distracted.

"I win," Q says, eyes alight with excitement.

"It's a draw," James corrects, hoping his exhaustion won't show. Q's gaze grows sharp.

On his next mission, James finds an exploding pen in the inside pocket of his suit jacket.

#11

Title: To Fish or Not to Fish Author: scarytheory Warnings: none Summary: Someone is sending weird presents to Q. He needs to figure out who that someone is.

The mug was ugly. Big, brown, and with a ceramic trout holding a plate “I fish you very much!” engraved in bold letters. It wasn’t the only thing that had been anonymously sent to Q for his birthday this week (other items included cheap chocolate and a teddy bear).

“This is getting ridiculous. Who would give me something so hideous?”

“You know what they say – be careful what you fish for!”

“That’s… not what they say.”

James smirked, obviously happy with himself.

Q continued: “Can you at least pretend that you’re jealous? It used to be you, sending me obnoxious gifts!”

“Don’t act like you thought it was romantic now, you hated it.”

He did. But he still had all the awful trinkets that James had sent him from missions before his retirement. They were displayed in his office, he couldn't force himself to throw them away. Maybe he was sentimental, after all.

“Perhaps it’s from a criminal who wants to infiltrate the MI6,” Q wondered.

James laughed. “I can guarantee you that it’s not a villain, the gifts are indeed from the heart.”

Of course he had something to do with it!

“And you can’t just tell me?”

“Nah. Let minnow when you figure it out!.”

“James, this was a terrible pun, even for you.”

“It’s not kraken you up?”

Truly not.

The question was who could send him these kinds of gifts? It seemed that they weren’t from some admirer either, seeing as James didn’t feel threatened. On the contrary, he was amused.

“Oh my God!”

Suddenly he knew. And it was horrifying.

“It’s from my mum.”

James grinned: “I love that woman. She understands that fish puns are fin-tastic!”

With horror, Q realised that against his better judgment, he had ended up marrying his own mother.

#12

Title: One Hell of a Strange Fish Author: Misha / artsytarts Warnings: none, just lols Summary: Fishing at lake Erie can be more exciting than you think.

Felix sighed happily as he sat on his little bench in his little boat and let his mind wander. Bliss like this was hard to come by. A weekend of fishing, peace and relaxation was awaiting him and there was nothing that could spoil it.

Just as he’d finished the thought, a sudden tug at his fishing rod almost made him topple over the rim of his boat. Felix caught himself and cursed, put his feet down and with all his strength, he started reeling in the gigantic fish. It was putting up one hell of a fight. Gritting his teeth, Felix pulled and pulled, until, with an almighty splash, it broke the surface and screamed, just as the hook zinged past Felix’ ear.

Wait… Screamed?

Felix blinked.

“What do you think you’re doing, you bloody idiot!!” the man, not fish, exclaimed and ripped his diving mask off. He glared daggers at Felix, who still stood poised with his rod in hand.

Then the man frowned. “Felix?” he said incredulously.

“James?!”

“What on earth are you doing up there?”

“Me?! What are you doing down there?!”

James huffed, paddling against the water. “I asked first.”

“Well, I’m on holiday.” Felix held up the evidence. “Fishing trip. What about you?”

“Assignment,” James answered simply.

The mental image of a mushroom cloud above lake Erie filled Felix’ head. “Hell. Should I be worried?”

“Not particularly,” James said. “Anyway, should get going. Nice chatting with you.”

“Hold on, James, what –”

“Next time… Be careful what you fish for!” James called out, shoved his mouthpiece back between his teeth and submerged.

“Did you just…” Felix began, but James was already gone.

With a sigh, Felix let himself fall back into his seat and rubbed his forehead. They had to stop meeting like this.

#13

Title: Gone Fishing Author: Merc / the moon of mercury Warnings: none Summary: sometimes Bond prefers not to talk about his missions.

“Now you’re just preening,” Q says, rolling his eyes for dramatic effect. “Fishing for compliments. Really, Double-O-Seven, must you always make such a show of everything?”

Bond shrugs and finishes straightening his tie, not bothering to argue. He had been admiring his own reflection on the window of the newly painted DB10.

“Quite a dashing image, if I do say so myself. That’s the point, isn’t it? It’s the Geneva Motor Show, no one’s going to take me for a collector if I don’t look the part. What do you think?”

“I’m not the one you need to convince. All I care about is that you get the job done and bring back my car in one piece.”

“Why so grumpy, Q? I’d hoped you’d at least extend the sentiment to my person besides the car. And maybe wish me good luck? I have a feeling this one won’t be easy.”

“Bollocks, you’re going to seduce her, get the intel, and spectacularly blow things up. All of which you invariably accomplish every time. So, off you go and lay your bait. But please, do me a favour and think of the poor car while you’re at it.”

* *

Q is right. The rich widow falls for his charms, spills her secrets, and buildings explode. Even the Aston survives. A success, all things considered.

Still, it takes him a week after returning to London to face his Quartermaster. The ugly love bites have faded and the overwhelming stench of perfume is nothing but an unpleasant memory. But Q has recordings of the events that went down in her boudoir, and Bond knows for sure he won't let it go.

Unfortunately, his foresight proves right.

“Be careful what you fish for,” he quips the moment Bond steps in, dissolving into laughter.

#14

Title: Look at the Bright Side Author: MrKsan / starrboned Warnings: none Summary: The Quartermaster's job is never easy.

When Bill entered the office, it was dark and quiet. Q sat slumped, painted pale blue under the light of the computer screen.

“Q?” Bill whispered, unsure what he stepped into.

Q looked up, blinking slowly.

“Bill. What are you doing here?”

Bill approached the desk, turning on the lamp. Q flinched from the light, like the sleep-deprived vampire that he was.

“It’s midnight, Q.” Tanner sighed, taking in the wide eyes and the dark shadows under them. “Bond came back hours ago. Why are you still here?"

Q blinked. Bill could almost hear the gears turning in his head.

Christ.

Q pushed a glass bowl from behind the screen. The water inside sloshed wildly from the sharp movement, stirring awake the creature inside.

“It's a... fish?"

“Bond brought it,” Q said. He glared at the fish like it's the source of all of his problems.

“He got you a fish?”

“No,” Q said, eyes narrowing. “He brought back the micro-sized, water-proofed, indestructible hard drive made especially for this mission, containing all the stolen information M asked for."

Bill glanced back at the fish. The fish, who had very sharp teeth inside its slightly gaping mouth.

“Is the hard drive -”

“It's inside the damn piranha!" Q hissed, smacking his head on the table.

Bill couldn't help it.

"Be careful what you fish for, huh?” He said, earning a sharp stare from under the dark mop of curls.

“At least he brought back the equipment this time,” Bill said, smiling apologetically. “Come on, you won’t get anything done by glaring at the fish.”

Q sighed, heavily, but took Bill’s offered hand and stumbled to a stand.

“At least it’s not a komodo dragon this time,“ Q said, as they stepped into the empty parking lot.

Bill couldn't help but laugh.

#15

Title: Cracked Author: solarmorrigan Warnings: n/a Summary: Bond and Q bring down a villain and have a few laughs.

Waves lapped at the sand, offering a gentle, rhythmic backbeat to the sounds of a madman’s island base crashing down in flames.

Bond and Q stood side by side on the beach, each sooty, disheveled, and soaked to the bone. They were sporting various bumps and bruises, some scrapes and burns, but they were pleased with themselves, nonetheless. It had been a grueling few days’ work, filled with more fire, gunplay, and close encounters with sharks and other sharp-toothed marine life than Q was usually comfortable with, but they’d done good work. Yet another villainous plot soundly foiled.

“Well,” Q sighed, “I suppose it’s true what they say.”

“What’s that, Q?” Bond asked idly.

Snickering preemptively, Q answered, “Be careful what you fish for.”

The expected eye-roll and long-suffering sigh never came. Instead, Bond’s expression went curiously blank, before a smile cracked over his face and he began to laugh. It started as a small chuckle before morphing into true, shoulder-shaking amusement, and Q’s own smile slid away in alarm. The joke wasn’t that funny – not that Bond ever laughed at his puns to begin with.

“Oh god, did you sustain head trauma while I wasn’t looking?” Q demanded, his fingers twitching towards Bond’s scalp.

Bond shook his head, still chuckling lightly. “I’m fine, Q. In fact… I’m fintastic.”

In spite of the suspicious anxiety churning in Q’s chest, he couldn’t help it; the pun was so terrible, so ill-timed, so entirely out of place, that Q had to laugh. “Oh, that’s it,” he gasped between giggles, “you’ve finally cracked.”

“I’m fine, Q,” Bond said again, then leaned in to press a kiss to the corner of Q’s smiling mouth before giving him a small shove in the direction of their getaway boat. “Now let’s get out of here.”

*****

GO VOTE!

#james bond fanfiction #00Q #drabbles #writing challenge #puns #ldws2021 #ldws 2021 #ldws #ldws drabble

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blu-archer · 4 years ago

Text

Let me help you..

Right. So I felt the need to attempt writing smut and sneeze inducing, so if this sucks I’m blaming it on the fact that I’ve never written this before.

If you are under age, please don’t read this. While its not particularly hectic, it still is what it is.

Warnings: mature content. Very very mild language

Sickie: Jimin

Caretaker: Yoongi

-smut and fluff.

-Also massages.

- I was bored and finished this at 2am.

Alternate universe - magic is real and Jimin is a hybrid.

Part 1 of this series.

Jimin moaned deeply, his eyes fluttering closed as a content purr filled the bedroom.

Yoongi smirked with the satisfaction of being responsible for his kittens reactions. He slid his hands up the hybrid’s smooth skin as Jimin began to squirm underneath him. Working his fingers into the hard, knotted muscles of Jimin’s upper back – smugly earning an even deeper moan of pleasure.

Yoongi tugged lightly on Jimin’s tail, aware of its sensitivities but only wishing to tease the hybrid while he had him pinned to the mattress beneath him. Jimin’s breath hitched but flicked his tail back, hitting Yoongi in the face as a form of scolding.

“I want you to feel nice, Kitten.” Yoongi answered innocently, leaning low to kiss the center of Jimin’s back.

Jimin shivered at the action, taking a deep breath before replying hoarsely. “We are not doing anything like that while I’m sick.”

“You would feel good..”

“This feels great as it is, Yoon.”

Yoongi trailed his kisses down the length of Jimin’s spine until he reached the base of his tail just coming just above the waist band of Jimin’s boxers, his hands still massaging into his boyfriend’s stiff muscles. Jimin mewled at the touches, his body betraying him and forcing him to shift awkwardly with shaky breaths as they started to move in the direction that he had very seriously stipulated not too.

Jimin flicked his tail at Yoongi again but he couldn’t bring himself to put in the same effort as before. Resulting in it falling weakly against Yoongi’s forearm. A slow heat was building through his body making him want to just melt into the sheets and as good as it felt, this paired with how Yoongi had laid him down was not helping his running nose. He was already running warm with small yet persistent fever, but this heat made him feel a different kind of weakness. One that Yoongi often enjoyed to-put him through. Yoongi worked his way down Jimin’s back once more, trailing his kisses in the opposite direction until he rested his lips against the cat’s scent gland.

“Yoongi.”

Yoongi bit down lightly on the gland, grazing it with his teeth which sent a strong enough sensation to tremble Jimin’s entire body. The younger broke out into a rough bout of coughing, reaching up to grab the closest pillow to cover so that he didn’t cough into Yoongi’s face. The warlock paused in his activities, not bringing himself to alert Jimin that he had grabbed Yoongi’s pillow to cough into – or remind the cat that they slept together and that he was probably going to get sick anyway, so there wasn’t much point in the wasted effort.

“Sorry.” Yoongi murmured, setting a final kiss to Jimin’s neck before moving off of him and sitting up. “Should I get you some tea?”

“N-no.” Jimin croaked. “Tired of tea.”

“Some warm water with lemon and ginger then.”

The hybrid pushed himself upright so that he sat next to Yoongi, leaning into the elder as he ran his wrist under his nose with a sniff. Yoongi put on arm over his shoulders, letting his hand trace along the cat’s collar bone. When he heard a light scoff, he looked at the hybrid with a raised brow only to see the cat glaring into his lap. Yoongi’s smirk from earlier returned as he saw what had annoyed his boyfriend.

“Stop it.” Jimin snapped without any real anger. “ I said no, and you continued anyway.”

“I thought it would help you. You’ve done it for me before.” Yoongi pressed a kiss to Jimin’s temple. “But I’m sorry I should have stopped… although since I’ve started and you’re clearly able…”

“No.” Jimin stated sternly with a wet sniffle, yet his brows pinched together in thought. As if he were at least contemplating the idea. “I should take a shower. A cold one.”

“Don’t.” Yoongi stood up and pulled the hybrid after him, making sure that one of his woolen sweaters was grabbed before leaving the room. “Come sit with me and we can watch movies. You said that you have been wanting to watch that animation again, the cat one.”

“The lion king?”

Yoongi nodded as he dropped Jimin’s hand once they had reached the kitchen, giving the younger a moment to pull on the white sweater – its length draping to his mid-thigh. He flicked his hand towards the kettle, automatically it rumbled to life as it got to reheating the water.

“If you want to. I don’t want you taking any cold showers, we can deal with it in other ways my love.” Yoongi let his magic flow and a variety of a things were propelled into action. Knives went to work on chopping up a lemon and small section of raw ginger then moved on to cutting up various vegetables that would eventually be put into a broth for them later.

Jimin stretched his arms up as he failed to swallow back a yawn, almost immediately scrambling for a handful of tissues from the box set up on the circular dinner table that they rarely used for anything other Yoongi’s work – and that one time when Jimin had been too impatient to drag Yoongi back to their room…

Hih’igxeshh huh..ahh. huh’iiTTCHhiew…

Jimin let out a congested curse as he blew his nose, wincing at how tender his nose was. The blowing hadn’t eased any of the pressure in his sinuses and he was pretty sure that he was going to sound disgustingly blocked up for at least the rest of the day. Yoongi pulled two small boxed orange juices from the fridge and handed one to Jimin before aggressive stabbing a straw through the top of his own. The juices were typically targeted to kids, but the pair had never gotten out of the habit of buying them from when they had been studying.

Jimin secretly hoped they never stopped. Their other friends often teased them about it but having the little juices always brought fond memories of times spent with Yoongi, back when they weren’t dating and had just been roommates in college trying to survive exams. They would go days without proper sleep or social interaction and there were times when food and water were not consumed as much as it should have been. Which, of course after both had found the other in moments that had scared them quite badly, the tradition of leaving random boxes of the juice and snacks in their separate areas of studying had begun.

“This shouldn’t take too long, let’s go sit down.” Yoongi encouraged, ignoring the glance Jimin made at him using his magic when he had originally said that he would need some time to recover and had agreed to lay off of the magic until then. Thankfully nothing was commented on and he gave a breathy laugh at how Jimin snatched up the tissue box and held it to his chest before moving to the lounge. “Do you want your glasses?”

“Yeah..” Jimin answered as he threw himself onto the small couch, burrowing into the soft throw pillows that Jungkook had given them after setting his juice aside. “Is Tae coming over today?”

“Tae?” Yoongi frowned. “Should he be?”

“It’s Monday… isn’t it your mentor day?”

Yoongi breathed out a heavy sigh as he found Jimin’s glasses on the counter where he had left them the night before.

It was in fact his day to mentor. He had completely forgotten. At least it was still early, the sun had barely risen, so Taehyung wouldn’t have just pitched up at the store to find that it hadn’t been opened. Yoongi would have to just send a message and tell him that he would cancel for the day.

“I’ll ask Namjoon if he can take him again.” Yoongi said and settled down beside Jimin’s head, letting the younger move up so that he rested on Yoongi’s lap.

“He’s not some file or spell casting that you can just hand off Yoon, just tell him to come by here a bit later than usual. I’ll probably be asleep for most of the day anyway.”

Jimin had a point.

He sent a quick text to the witch informing him that they would work in Yoongi’s private studio space at his house instead of the store. Taehyung wouldn’t question it – perhaps he would have even expected it. Yoongi wasn’t as unpredictable as he thought when matters included Jimin.

Jimin was restless.

Yoongi was almost sure that the hybrid had missed the entire beginning of the movie with how he shifted around; adjusting the pillows or removing the sweater he wore to make it into a blanket of sorts – and then into a pillow when he wasn’t satisfied, or getting up to find water and ending up dragging the duvet from their room to the couch.

When Yoongi thought the younger had finally settled down with his head resting on the warlocks thigh, Jimin began to shuffle beneath the blanket as if he just couldn’t find the right place to lie. His cute ears that Yoongi had been softly scratching, were drawn back in irritation and his tail flicked continuously against the cover.

“You okay?” He asked, looking down at the Calico’s flushed cheeks and annoyed pout.

Jimin let out a heavy puff of air, his eyes narrowed as he practically glared at the tv. Yoongi ran a hand gently down the nape of Jimin’s neck and traced along his sharp collar bone, smiling at the deep purr that started up before startling as Jimin pulled away. He was about to question the youngers actions when Jimin settled himself onto Yoongi’s lap. His pretty eyes were dilated, and his bottom lip pulled tightly between his teeth as he rocked forward, drawing Yoongi closer by putting his arms around his neck.

The warlock let out a low surprised chuckled but made no complaint against Jimin putting his lips to his jaw, beginning a journey of lingering kisses that made him shiver.

“I thought –“

“You started this.” Jimin muttered a bit hoarsely, but Yoongi couldn’t tell if it was from his cold or whatever the younger was chasing after. “Finish it.”

“You didn’t want to..” Yoongi shifted as Jimin rolled his hips hard against him.

The movie played on, music cheerfully flooding the room, yet Yoongi could barely hear it as he focused on the soft breaths and moans that Jimin let out into his mouth and neck. Yoongi’s breaths were quickly matching that of the hybrid, if not surpassing him as his body reacted to Jimin’s hands trailing his skin tenderly.

“Now.” Jimin panted out. “Now I do. Please… I can’t focus on anything else.”

Yoongi pushed Jimin off, keening at the low whine that quickly turned to a moan as he forced Jimin back into the soft cushions while he got to his knees in front of him. He pulled the blankets that had been tangled around Jimin’s legs away, taking note of his boyfriends light shivers and hooded eyes from behind his glasses.

Jimin wasn’t normally needy when it came to these private moments between them if anything he was usually the one to be in control. Seeing the hybrid lean his head back and paw at Yoongi’s shirt impatiently and letting the warlock do what he wanted to do to Jimin without complaint or direction was a blessing that Yoongi rarely got to witness. Even if it included Jimin’s mouth breathing, chapped lips and crimson tinged nose.

He was running his hands over Jimin’s tight dancer physique with almost featherlight touches only to grip and hold his hips down in place as he pushed up to try to create some type of friction. Yoongi left tender kisses on the soft inner skin of Jimin’s thighs taking his time while smiling at the soft sigh that left his boyfriend before Yoongi gradually moved an inch higher and suckled the skin there. He could feel Jimin carding his hands through his hair, giving soft tugs almost in time with his heavy breaths.

Once he felt that he had left enough marks there he pushed Jimin’s legs further apart so that he could climb and rest between them as he trailed kisses and hickeys up the hybrids torso – earning a quivering moan as he hovered and switched between nipples. Giving the sensitive buds extra attention as Jimin shivered and dug his nails into Yoongi’s shoulder. The warlock didn’t even have time to wonder if the hybrid was going to claw through his clothes, he could already feel the sharp points digging into his skin – varying in force every few seconds.

Yoongi had always delighted in the fact that his kitten was extremely sensitive when it came to skin contact, every moment was a chance to see how he would react to the most subtle of strokes or kisses. Jimin’s breath quickened as he arched to rub his body into Yoongi’s as much as possible, his body heating at the feeling of the elders own arousal pressed against him when the warlock nipped at the glands on his neck. Jimin moaned deeply, his nails moving to scrape against Yoongi’s scalp and his breath catching in his throat.

He growled as Yoongi caught the lobe of his ear with his teeth, which resulted in him turning to cough harshly to the side. Yoongi pulled back, settling down on Jimin’s lap as he did his best to ignore his own erection that fought against his sweatpants. Yoongi slipped a tissue out of the box and rested it around Jimin’s nose and mouth, feeling his hot breaths hit his palm through the soft material as he coughed.

“Blow.” Yoongi said gently when Jimin had finally caught his breath.

“You blow.” Jimin flushed and pulled Yoongi’s hand away so that he could blow his nose himself. He wasn’t going to let Yoongi have to feel whatever grossness came out of him. Jimin blew his nose twice, but the heat that spread through his body was making his nose run and left him sniffling miserably.

“Is that what you want? Can I continue then?” Yoongi grinned as he leant closer and gently sucked at Jimin’s jaw when he didn’t hear an immediate complaint.

“Yoongi… You don’t have to. Maybe this is too much, I’m quickly realising how gross this is again.” Jimin murmured apprehensively, although his body thrived under the soft caressing touches.

Yoongi let out a breathy chuckle as he drew circles into Jimin’s v-line with his thumbs. “There isn’t a single thing about you that could possibly be gross, love. Lean back.”

Jimin shifted with an unusual amount of compliance. Yoongi merely smirked as he got to work at his boyfriend’s chest once more, priding himself at the low whines that vibrated out of Jimin. Slowly Yoongi ran a hand down between their bodies and slipped it smoothly beneath the boxer’s he had forgotten to remove to grasp at the base of Jimin’s dick. He smirked at the jolt that that trembled through Jimin’s entire body.

“Oh…” Jimin rolled his head back, his hips pushing against Yoongi’s hand with more force than he thought he could muster just then. He didn’t even bat an eye at the slick he could feel seeping out and no doubt ruining the couch. Yoongi didn’t even hesitate to start stroking at the achingly hard length, almost teasingly so, and Jimin could barely keep his pleasure contained, his body betraying his control as he shifted and mewled at the heat that coursed through him. “…ahhh… st-stop be-nnhgg.. ahh.. so-soft.”

“You want me to be harder?” Yoongi asked. His voice dipping low enough to spark a new wave of dizzying heat through Jimin even before the elder gathered some of the slick that had gradually begun to gush out of him before wrapping a strong yet tender grip around Jimin’s dick once more. Moving to pump him roughly.

“Fuck!” Jimin cried hoarsely. His head slammed into Yoongi’s shoulder as he jerked up to meet the newly set pace, burying his face into Yoongi’s shoulder as he was driven closer to the edge.

The warlock bit at his cheek to try to bring his mind back to the present, controlling his own breathing before he drowned in Jimin’s whimpers and lewd pleas. Jimin hadn’t complained about his actions, but Yoongi couldn’t help but be mildly unsatisfied. Retracting his hand, earning sharp claws into his back as well as a hoarse whine, Yoongi moved down and yanked the boxers off of the hybrid in a hastily, swift motion. Jimin had just began to let out a low whine again when Yoongi took him in his mouth. The sounds that left them both were anything but soft and once again Yoongi was glad that their cottage was a relatively far distance away from their neighbours. He licked and sucked and hummed around the calico’s dick and the whimpers and cries set his blood alight. It didn’t take much longer before the hybrid was spilling himself out, arching and thrusting up into Yoongi’s mouth as the elder swallowed as much as he could. He pulled back, white painting his lips as he returned his hand to milk Jimin dry, leaning up to kiss the hybrid’s gaping mouth as he did. Jimin was left a panting and mewling mess in his boyfriends embrace, while Yoongi used the discarded boxer’s to briefly clean them off afterwards. That was definitely better than just watching ‘The Lion King’. Jimin would never be able to view the movie the same ever again.

“mmmngg…” Jimin lay a sloppy kiss into the curve of Yoongi’s neck before lightly coughing away into the air, too blissed to even try to lift up his arm to shield it.

“Content?”

Jimin gave another inaudible reply before stuttering off into a particularly vocal sneeze.

“Let’s shower, okay?” Yoongi said, flicking up his hand to shut off the movie that had still been playing. He was painfully hard, but he had expected nothing less from the sounds and reactions Jimin had been giving him. “Get cleaned up properly and eat before Tae arrives. Then you can get some rest.”

The hybrid sniffled and reached to tug at the hem of Yoongi’s pants, feeling too alone in his nudity, which caused the elder to chuckle tightly but not without affection. He grabbed Jimin’s hands in his own and pulled him shakily to his feet.

“I don’t need any help. Let’s just get you in the shower, okay?”

There were no arguments from either of them. Even when Jimin decided that a second round was definitely in order.

“You should really air this place out.”

Yoongi startled at the voice, not having expected another person to be in his house. He had just finished getting food in Jimin and had gotten him to sleep, which had taken far longer than it should have and had resulted in some more deep massages to help his kitten relax. He hadn’t heard the front door open but seeing Taehyung rummaging around his kitchen shouldn’t have really surprised him. Perhaps his morning activities had sent him to a state of unawareness.

Thank god he had thought to set his magic down on cleaning their couch before leaving the room.

“Yeah?”

“Mm.” Taehyung swiveled to give a stern finger-pointing at the elder, it lost whatever effect he had tried to pull when Yoongi saw the strips of liquorice that dangled from the witches mouth. “This place smelt super musky. Its not good for Jimin to be in an unventilated area. The fresh air would do him better.”

Yoongi avoided eye contact, fearing that his smile would grow too wide if he kept looking at the witches stern disapproval. “I’ll keep that in mind. I thought he’d get cold. Should we get to work? I have a few spell books that I got in London that I thought would really benefit you.”

Taehyung grumbled lightly that his mentor should have ‘known better’ and that their roles should switch temporarily so that Yoongi could learn something about care giving from him instead. The warlock didn’t comment or correct Tae, merely laughed and waved him off as his mind tossed the vivid ‘helping’ details of his morning around in his thoughts.

It quickly became obvious that his heart wasn’t in the lesson that he should have definitely planned more for, and he realised that as soon as Tae accidentally set fire to a third of his sage collection. That was on him though, he should have known better to make an entirely clear space before letting Tae work on anything that had to do with the elements, and he should have been paying attention to what the younger was doing and saying in order to prevent such tragedies. It was entirely unprofessional to be so blatantly distracted, but Yoongi couldn’t seem to help it. A part of him kept wanted to run back into the main section of their little house – back to where Jimin was sleeping – so that he could check up on him. To see if he needed any tea, or some one to talk to, or play boards games with, or to see if he wanted Yoongi to comb his hair or scratch at his ears. Jimin loved having Yoongi scratch at his ears. And Yoongi loved doing it.

He'd missed so much in the months that he’d been gone, that the scents and the feeling of Jimin’s skin or hair or fur – the feeling of Jimin being close to him – he had almost forgotten what it was like, and he never wanted to even consider the thought of coming close to forgetting it again.

Taehyung had spent the next twenty minutes after the flames being a floundering, apologetic mess – even after Yoongi had tried to convince him that he wasn’t at fault and that Yoongi should have practiced some pronunciations with him first. His attempts didn’t seem to sink it. They both agreed on a break perhaps a bit too eagerly once they’d gone over a few pointers – Yoongi trying harder to pay close attention to Taehyung and the fine details that the witch still seemed to be getting wrong.

He let Tae help himself to some of the food that he’d made for Jimin earlier while Yoongi took the chance to peek into the bedroom to see if his boyfriend was still alright. And basically, just how Yoongi had left him, Jimin was curled into his side of the bed with the comforter pulled tightly to his body. His tri-coloured ears contrasted against the thick white sheets and seemed to be the only part of the hybrid that wasn’t completely under the blankets. As much has Yoongi wanted to go and pull them down to see the youngers face, he refrained. The soft, congested snores were enough to tell him that Jimin needed to sleep, so he dragged himself back to the kitchen and made himself the strongest brew of coffee he had to gain focus for the next few hours with his mentee.

Taehyung had just mastered a spell for plant growth and was gleefully trying to revive some of the things he’d damaged earlier when they heard the soft padding of feet coming from the entrance of the studio. They both paused in anticipation, their energy levels spiking until Jimin appeared in the section that they were in. Something in Yoongi’s chest melted like warm caramel at the sight of Jimin – he’d changed before leaving the cottage to join them in the small building outside that Yoongi had claimed as his studio space. Switching his sleep wear to a pair of Yoongi’s sweatpants as well the warlocks thickest jacket, even the hybrid’s tail was hidden beneath the warm layers. The extra padding as well as the broadness of the jacket made the hybrid appear even smaller than usual.

Jimin smiled shyly, bringing a tissue up to blow his nose before letting Taehyung bound over and hug him, his sleep-mussed hair flopping all over the place as Tae swayed him and picked him up to playfully pull him to his chest, quickly moving to ramble on about all that they’d done in the past hours that the witch had been there. Yoongi watched quietly from his high set stool, his hands fumbling around with some of the herbs he’d been planning on making charms with. He couldn’t help but notice the increase in Jimin’s sniffling. The hybrid seemed to be running a tissue under his nose every few minutes while earnest nodding to everything Tae was saying. His nose was an even brighter red than before and his eyes had that tired glazed-over look that made Yoongi think his boyfriend had only just woken up and had opted to find them straight away.

“I think I’ll be able to help Hobi’s little flower garden grow stronger. Both him and Kook have been so busy lately the maintenance of the garden has kind of downgraded a bit, and I’m usually not allowed to work with them ever since I forgot the sprinklers on that one time and drowned all the seedlings… but with this..”

Taehyung shrugged with enthusiasm, grinning widely at Jimin who was nodding along despite squinting with a somewhat dazed look. His nose scrunched up and he murmured a hasty apology before crumpling into his tissue with a desperate sneeze that shook through his entire body. Taehyung lay a steadying hand on his friends shoulder as Jimin snapped forward once more, and again, giving a low groan and a disgustingly wet sniffle since his current tissue was no longer capable of use. Yoongi joined the hybrid’s side rather quickly after that, manifesting the box of tissues that he knew was inside their home so that Jimin could blow his nose again.

“I’b sorry.” Jimin glanced at Tae tired as he tried to rid himself of the congestion, only to find that the itch that had been bothering him was still there. Only this time it didn’t seem to want to progress further. “I was -snf- lis-listening.”

“I know.” Tae grinned and rubbed the calico’s back with nurturing intent. “Bless you.”

Jimin sniffed and scrunched his nose to try and wiggle the itch that had settled there out, but it didn’t seem to be working.

“Are you okay?” Yoongi asked softly. His hand gently tugging Jimin’s body closer to his own. With the way Jimin’s face had flushed and his eyes had turned watery, Yoongi didn’t think that he was done. “Did you just wake up?”

Jimin nodded, moving his hand to rub harshly at his nose causing his breath to hitch slightly but overall, accomplished nothing. “I ha-had a bad dre-hih-dream. snf.”

“My kitten.” Yoongi pulled him into his chest, squeezing him tightly. He could feel Jimin’s breath hitch against him and felt the rumbling groan of annoyance flood through Jimin’s body as he pushed his nose into Yoongi’s neck – seemingly no longer caring about possible contagion as Yoongi felt dampness on his skin. Although considering what they’d done that morning, Jimin probably had ruled that contagion was probably unavoidable. Jimin worked hard at trying to scent him, doing his best to try work away the ticklish feeling that left him feeling both crazy and drained, he could only whimper in annoyance.

“I ca-can’t sne-sneez-ah.. snf.”

“Sit down, Minnie.” Tae said, rubbing Jimin’s shoulders as the hybrid did as he was instructed, crumpling to the floor, desperate to try anything. “Yoongi… why… why don’t you try and coax it out. Hobi and I do it for Jungkook all the time during his allergies and colds.”

Yoongi hadn’t done it before. Jimin had always tried to do anything he considered ‘gross’ by himself, and this was usually one of those things. Yet looking down into his boyfriends teary eyes, Yoongi truly wanted to be the one to help him. Like he’d helped him that morning – well, not quite, not with Tae there, but the situation was somewhat similar. Control was being handed over.

Yoongi sat in between Jimin’s legs, grabbing a tissue and staring at it blankly before Taehyung instructed him to roll it to point – further explaining what he needed to do while Jimin coughed openly, his shoulders slumping forwards as Tae rubbed his back.

“Could you tilt back a bit, Love?” Obediently, Jimin leant back into Taehyung.

Carefully, Yoongi pushed the tissue into Jimin’s left nostril, gently nudging it around. At first Jimin merely looked uncomfortable and Yoongi was seconds away from pulling it out and trying something else – surely they had pepper or something – when he angled it and accidentally went deeper. Jimin’s expression changed to one that Yoongi was very familiar with as his breath hitch against Yoongi’s hand.

“Keep doing that and just wiggle it gently.” Taehyung encouraged.

Feeling quite studious, Yoongi pulled it out a little before returning it to that spot, giving the tissue a light wiggle. Jimin’s breath stuttered and hitched achingly until there were tears threatening to spill. Yoongi twisted the tissue with his finger and felt the sudden large inhale Jimin took before –

Heh’ ISHHTEWW! IP’SSHIEW! Hih’ih’ePISHH’uh!

Yoongi tried not to grimace – after all, the fluid that now coated his hand was a simple wash to get rid of, and his Love was clearly not feeling well enough to deserve any type of criticism – whether it was voiced or not. It wasn’t something he could fault the hybrid for. Yoongi merely grabbed for more tissues, pulling the now crumpled mess of an inducing tool out of Jimin’s nose, only to catch the next bundle neatly with his freshly tissued hand.

Yoongi murmured a soft ‘bless you’ each time Jimin was forced forward into his hand until finally the hybrid was halted into soft, tired panting. Taehyung made a comment about going to put tea on in the house and left them, leaving a soft scratch on Jimin’s head.

Yoongi took his time making sure Jimin was finished and clean before he wiped off his own hand, feeling Jimin’s unfocused gaze drawn to his actions.

“This,” Jimin cleared his throat as his voice cracked. “This is not how I hoped today would go. I’m sorry that must have been –“

“It was fine. Interesting actually.” Yoongi reassuring with a hint of amusement. “Your facial expressions were definitely something that will visit my dreams.”

Jimin’s red cheeks turned an even brighter shade as the hybrid smacked his boyfriend’s chest with a breathy laugh. “I really needed to sneeze. It felt really good.”

“I’m glad.” Yoongi placed a kiss on Jimin’s cheek. “I’ll do it again if you even need me too.”

“My saviour.” Jimin huffed with a strong sniff.

Remembering what Jimin had stuttered before, Yoongi ran a hand through the youngers hair, leaning in closer to stare directly into Jimin’s eyes so that he knew not to divert anything that was asked of him.

“What was your bad dream about?”

Jimin froze and then chuckled tightly, looking down into his lap. “It was stupid, looking back on it. I just felt really alone. It was like you weren’t with me anymore and everything was just really cold and dark, so when I wo-woke – hih’igtshh’uh ugh snf –“ Jimin burrowed into a tissue, making his voice muffled slightly. “When I woke up I had to find you, just to make sure.”

Yoongi frowned as he stroked through Jimin’s hair. Perhaps that trip that he’d gone on had done more harm than he’d originally thought. He didn’t want Jimin to ever think that he would be able to leave him. It just wasn’t possible.

“You know I love you, right? With every essence of my soul, I love you. I wouldn’t be able to function without knowing that you are alright, without having you by my side.”

Jimin nodded, but the smile didn’t reach his tired eyes. “I know. I promise I know. And I love you so much. You are so stupidly lovable. It was just a bad dream. I always have you with me.”

Jimin pressed a kiss to Yoongi’s lips, deepened it momentarily before frantically breaking away to sneeze a double down into Yoongi’s chest.

“Argh… sorry about that. I think this entire thing is taking turns between moving to my head and chest.” Jimin leant forward into Yoongi, resting his head on his boyfriends broad shoulder.

“C’mon.” Yoongi patted him when he had started to fall asleep. “Let’s get you back inside and warm. Tae has probably finished making tea by now. You can drink it with him before I toss him out.”

Jimin hummed with a lack of interest.

“And some more medicine will probably be helpful.”

Jimin’s hum turned to a much more agreeable tone.

“Maybe I’ll even rub some of my herbal ointment on you.” Yoongi said with low teasing pitch. “I’ll be extra useful and massage all these stiff muscles of yours.”

That got Jimin laughing. His eyes crinkled before he kissed Yoongi again, wrapping his arms tightly around the elder. Yoongi managed to stand and support his boyfriend as the younger clung onto him to be carried, making sure he was sturdy before making the short work in the cold to get back to the house. He could feel Jimin’s face against his neck, hiding from the chill as he sniffled, but Yoongi could feel the smile on the youngers face as he pressed a kiss to Yoongi’s neck.

And it must have been contagious, because when Yoongi felt the familiar scratch of teeth where the scent gland on his neck should have been, followed by a gentle press of lips, it was impossible to stop his own smile from spreading.

#bts sickfic #bts fanfic #smut #sick!jimin #caretaker!yoongi #hybrid jimin #warlock yoongi #alternate universe #snz #induces #first time writing smut #be kind #domestic #Taehyung is third wheeling #massages

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ficforce · 4 years ago

Text

A Good Man Part 2

Hinawa Takehisa x Reader SFW No set timeline New relationship

“Ouch!” The woman yelped and rubbed her hip, that was the fourth time Hinawa had shot her in the same spot, he dulled the shots right down so they hurt but didn’t pierce the skin, she was one of the four left in his sadistic game of tag. The team had to get to the flag without the Lieutenant shooting them, they were all failing badly, Shinra and Tamaki sat in the corner to the side with their arms crossed, red marks just between their eyes - Headshots were an instant disqualification.

They had a little further to go, Maki was the closest and Arthur couldn’t stand to wait anymore so he bolted, a speech about his Knight King skills being cut short by a gunshot, he slumped off and the other woman took the chance to summon Sputter using what was left of an earlier ignition by Shinra earlier,, she grew the little fireball bigger and bigger, dodging bullets and launching a counter-attack. With Maki leading the way, Y/N and Vulcan rushed in behind her, the red-haired youth would have made it if he hadn’t have been shot in the knee and fallen into Maki - The large Sputter lost it’s shape and burst, much to Maki’s dismay. Y/N’s eyes widened as the orange and yellow flames spread out, she was in full protective gear but it made her retreat and huddle behind a makeshift barrier. She had to remember to breathe, she forced herself to calm down, it was okay, it was controlled fire, Maki wouldn’t let that happen. Steeling herself she forced herself to her feet and round the corner, right into the barrel of Hinawa’s handgun, she squeezed her eyes shut and waited for him to shoot her.

“I’m not cruel enough to shoot you at point-blank range. You’re disqualified.” Hinawa holstered his weapon and told everyone to hit the showers. They had failed the task but it was valuable training, the Lieutenant could already see them all reviewing where they had gone wrong and he knew they’d do better in the morning. “Y/N, you’re on clean up duty after dinner.”

Washing up duty, her least favourite but she nodded regardless. Hinawa still made her nervous, he had been around a lot more since her meeting with Obi and the Lieutenant two weeks earlier, she wasn’t sure if he was watching her out of concern or looking for mistakes. It had to be the former because she knew he was a kind man. Even if he looked ready to murder at any given moment. Y/N was getting better at reading the man’s micro-expressions, she glanced at him discreetly, his eyes still held an amber hue from using his ability throughout the training, he seemed pleased with them though. Finding a reason to delay her shower, she headed in after Maki and Iris had finished, she had never showered with them before and they were kind enough not to pry into it, Maki told her once not to be so shy and Y/N wasn’t about to tell her it wasn’t the case. The evening passed quickly - Paperwork had to be done and then they all sat down to eat. The table as lively as ever, “Aren’t you hot, Y/N?”

“Hmm?” She looked up from her food and shook her head at Arthur’s question, “Not really.”

“I’ve never seen you without your jumpsuit all done up. Even when it’s really warm weather.” Shinra elbowed him from the side, “What? I’m just saying…”

“It’s okay, I just prefer to be covered, it’s a pain to wash the oil off of my skin all the time - we can’t all get away with being dirty all the time.”

“Rude,” Vulcan said as she realised he was talking about him. “I’m always welding, besides, the oil slides right off me.” They fell into a new subject but Y/N noticed that she was being watched, she turned her head a little and she met Hinawa’s gaze, heat began to rise in her cheeks and she looked away nervously. She missed the slight frown on the Lieutenant’s lips, the man was disappointed that she was still frightened of him.

It was always two of them that washed up after, Y/N passed Obi the last dish and washed her hands, “Done!”

Obi dried it and placed it back in the cupboard, “We certainly eat a lot.” The Captain clicked on the kettle and pulled out three cups, “How’s it been, Y/N? Hinawa told me that you handled yourself well in training earlier.”

“I froze,” She admitted and passed him the coffee.

“But you got yourself under control and got up.”

“Straight into his line of fire…” She liked washing up with the Captain, he always made a decent coffee and he was pleasant to chat with afterwards.

Obi poured the boiling water, “You can’t take a compliment at all, can you?” He snorted at her shrug and handed her a cup, “You know, Hinawa doesn’t give praise lightly… he’s not a bad guy, I know he seems prickly and serious, that’s just him, he’s not as emotive as everyone else but he’s a -”

“He’s a kind man. I know, Captain… Don’t think I haven’t noticed it.” She hit his bicep lightly, the muscle hard as stone, “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you trying to set us up either - you’re not skilled at it.”

“You say that,” he grinned, “But someone has to take this coffee to Hinawa and I’m pulling rank, off you go, Y/N”

— -

Grumbling under her breath, the coffee cup in her hand, Y/N headed down the hall toward the office. Inside was still a mountain of paperwork, everyone else had retired for the night but Hinawa would no doubt be still at it. But she didn’t hear the clicking of the keys on his laptop and nor could she see his hat peaking up over the paper piles, “Lieutenant?” She found him on the other side, his cheek resting on his arm where he seemed to have dozed off, it was unheard of and Y/N set his coffee down quietly before sliding the laptop over to herself and saving his work.

He looked so peaceful laying there that Y/N wasn’t sure whether to wake him or not, he would end up with a sore back and neck ache if he stayed there… He would be better going to bed, “Sir…” Y/N whispered, her hand hovering over his shoulder but not yet touching him, “Lieutenant Hinawa… Sir.” Her hand rested on the back of his shoulder and suddenly her entire world was turning, she felt pressure on her wrist from where the man was pulling and then the touch softened, she landed gentler than expected. Her eyes met his and Y/N realises she was laid across his lap, his hand rested on her back to keep her from falling back, “Um… Did…did I startle you?”

“You’re lucky I realised it was you or you’d be pinned to the floor.” Hinawa adjusted his glasses and sighed, “Did you need something?”

“I was bringing you coffee, then I didn’t want you to sleep at the desk… Lieutenant?” He blinked at her, head tilting slightly in question, “C-Could you let me go now?” He still had hold of her wrist and it was embarrassing being on his lap. Though… she couldn’t help but stare a little at his face. Hinawa was handsome, his hand was warm on her back and she realised that her hand had been resting on his chest - his strong, defined… Y/N pulled her hand away awkwardly.

He caught it quickly and before the woman knew it she could feel his lips on hers, soft but insistent. He pulled away reluctantly, “Sorry, Y/N.” Hinawa knew she didn’t like him regularly but with her so close, with her looking at him like she could like him a little, he hadn’t been able to resist. Hands cupped his jaw and Y/N pressed a shy kiss to his mouth. It was all the man needed to deepen the kiss, his hand on her back brought her closer to his body and his hat fell to the floor as Y/N combed her fingers through his hair. He was so aware of her against him, relaxed for once and a comfortable weight as she leaned in further. Hinawa’s lips left hers reluctantly, he could have kissed her all evening but then his lips were moving down to her throat, sucking a light mark into her skin whilst her hands unzipped the top half of his jumpsuit and pushed it down over his arms to his waist.

Hinawa was about to return the favour, his fingers tugging the zip barely an inch before Y/N tensed and pulled away, “I can’t!” She removed herself from his lap and backed away, her expression was panicked and once more she found it impossible to look Hinawa in the eye, “I’m sorry, so sorry! I… I can’t!”

“It’s okay…” He was a little shocked in all honesty and his guard dropped, his hand hovered slightly as if he wanted to reach for her and his eyes were gentle as he tried not to take it to heart. “It was a little fast, I understand.”

“No,” she whispered and raised her eyes, “You don’t understand, Hinawa. I really like you.”

“What?” The Lieutenant wasn’t expecting that, he thought maybe she got caught up in the moment and was regretting it. She liked him?

Y/N bit her lip and her arms wrapped around herself a little as she shrunk back into the wall, “I don’t want you to see me… I don’t want you to see my burns.” It was what had kept her from doing anything about her crush, every day she had to see the discoloured, gnarled skin on her arm, her thigh, her hip, her stomach and chest and… she was hideous beneath her clothes. “I’m ugly.”

Things clicked into place, the way she always covered up even when it was hot, why she flinched or pulled away when people tried to touch anything but her head, even her reluctance to look him in the eyes most days. She liked him the same way he liked her but she had been frightened of his reaction - Not of Hinawa himself.

He was relieved.

Hinawa stood up and took her hand as he passed her, pulling her out of the office and down the hall toward her room, she didn’t have anyone to share it yet so she had the luxury of a private room. The Lieutenant figured she would be more comfortable in her room than his and when they got there he asked her to let him in. Y/N opened the door and flicked on the light inside, thankful she had tidied it earlier and made the bed. She slept on the bottom bunk and she had used a spare sheet hung from the top bunk to make a sort of curtain. “Lieutenant?”

“Takehisa.” He turned to face her, “Just for now, please, call me by my name.” Hinawa wasn’t good at confessions, he wasn’t good with feelings, they were confusing and messy, they go in the way of things and made life complicated - but he could be allowed this once, to be awkward and confused, right? “I like you, Y/N. From the second I saw you in Company 3 I knew I liked you. I was impressed by your service history, your mechanical skills and the compassion you had despite your entire company mocking you for it. I told you before but after I learned of your injuries, what you had gone through to save lives… being burned alive with no ability to protect you. Overcoming that experience and being strong enough to get up and keep fighting for innocent lives… You’re incredible. You’re brave, you’re strong and you’re beautiful! I don’t care what’s beneath your clothes or what you look like - You’re the most beautiful person I’ll ever meet, Y/N!”

Oh.

Y/N was stunned, her lips parted a little and she could feel her whole body warming up, his sincerity and straightforwardness knocked her off her feet and she didn’t know how to reply… she was happy though, so, so happy to hear those words from him. “Lieu… T-Takehisa…. thank you… thank you…” Tears sprang to her eyes and she pressed the heels of her hands to them, she didn’t want to look so pathetic in front of him. She felt his arms around her again and wrapped hers around his waist as she hit her face in his neck, “I like you too,” She mumbled into his skin, “I just need a little time before I’m ready to show you all of me…” Y/N pulled back just a little so that she could look at him properly, “Can you wait for me?”

“Can I keep kissing you until then?” She answered him by pressing their mouths together and letting her eyes slip shut.

Hinawa was a good man

– -

Obi smiled to himself as he placed Hinawa’s cap on the back of the man’s chair and took the untouched coffee to the kitchen to wash up - And Y/N said he wasn’t skilled at matchmaking.

#hinawa takehisa #reader #fire force

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buckybarnesdollface · 4 years ago

Text

Mountainside: Chapter 2

Summary: Will sharing a bed change things?

Warnings: Female reader, SMUT, lots of smut, fluff, mentions of cancer and infertility

I awoke the next morning feeling as if I was wrapped in a warm cocoon. Bucky’s body was curled almost protectively around me, arm still secure around my waist. I could feel his warm, slow breaths on the back of my neck, and his Henley had ridden up my body so that his large, warm hand was pressed directly to the exposed flesh of my belly. My cheeks flushed and I tried to move, but his grasp tightened and pulled me even closer to him. He let out a soft groan, that had my entire body heated.

“Where are you going?” he mumbled, voice hoarse and low with sleep, and I bit my lip.

“I was gonna get up.”

“Listen.”

I wrinkled my nose. “What?”

“Listen,” he repeated, and I did. Outside the cabin the wind was howling, whipping through the trees and rattling the windowpanes. Once he was satisfied I’d heard what he wanted me to hear, he continued. “The storm started three hours ago; the snow’s likely to be heavy by now, and the power went out over an hour ago. Why rush to get out of bed? It’s not like there’s anything for us to do but sit and wait for the snow to stop so the team can come get us.”

“The power went out?” Sure enough, a glance at the black screen of the digital clock on the nightstand told me as much. I frowned, rolling onto my back. Bucky made no move to lift his arm, his hand still pleasantly warm on my stomach. When I turned my head to the side to look at him, he was also frowning, but his eyes were soft.

“Did you sleep well?” he asked, and I nodded.

“Very well,” I admitted, and a small smile touched his lips.

“Me too.”

My heart fluttered in spite of myself, and I tilted my head back to stare at the ceiling, focusing on keeping my breaths calm and even. Things were silent for a moment, and then Bucky spoke again.

“Last night, on the phone with Steve…” he started. “Are you really that upset about being stuck here? Because at dinner you seemed to agree that it was kind of nice.”

I sucked in a sharp breath, feeling my face redden. I hesitated before answering. “I’m not upset,” I finally said. “It is kind of nice being here. It’s just…”

“Just what?” Bucky prodded. I could feel his blue eyes watching me intensely, but I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. I was sure my face was as red as a tomato at this point. I took a deep breath, figuring it was better to be honest than try and come up with a story.

“When you said Natasha knows about this place – Have you…have you been here together?”

I felt stupid and pathetic as soon as the words came out of my mouth, but I had to know. It had been nagging me since yesterday evening. I peeked over at Bucky; his brow furrowed.

“No. This place used to belong to her sister, Yelena,” he explained. “I was on mission here in Austria last year and needed a place to lay low. Natasha suggested I stay at the cabin.” Bucky looked over to me, one dark eyebrow cocked. “Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” I mumbled. His words had eased the storm in me, and now I just wanted to drop it. Bucky, however, had other plans.

“Seriously, (Y/N), why do you ask?” he repeated, and then a slow grin spread over his face. “You were jealous!”

My face went white. “I was not!” I cried, my answer both too quick and too defensive to pass as the truth. Bucky’s grin was wicked as he sat up to lean on his elbow, the hand he still had on me pinching my side playfully. I squeaked and rolled away from him, and I would have rolled right off the bed had Bucky not caught me and pulled me back to him so that we were face-to-face. He was still grinning but it was warmer, eyes soft.

“You have nothing to be jealous of,” he chuckled. “Nothing has ever happened between Natasha and I, and nothing ever will.”

“I’m not jealous,” I grumbled, and Bucky smirked.

“Of course you’re not, doll,” he replied, and then he rolled away from me to stretch his arms above his head with a tired groan. “Well, since we’re awake, how about some coffee?”

“The power’s out,” I reminded him, and he snorted.

“You never heat a kettle over a fire, doll?” he asked. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were such a princess.”

With a mischievous grin, he rolled off the bed out of my reach before I could hit him. I threw a pillow at him, but he caught it one-handed and laughed.

“Easy, doll,” he chuckled. “You’re gonna pull your stitches if you get too wound up.”

Now that I was awake and sitting up, the aches and pains in my body were starting to resurface. My muscles were stiff and my arm was stinging, and I scrunched my nose. Seeing the change in my demeanour, Bucky slid open the drawer of the nightstand and dropped a bottle of Advil into my hand.

“Here, this’ll help,” he said. “I’ll go get the coffee started.”

I shook a couple of pills from the bottle and tipped my head back to swallow them. I leaned back against the headboard with a sigh, and then forced myself out of bed to follow Bucky to the kitchen.

Bucky was stoking the fire when I walked in. I went right to the window to assess how bad the storm was. The snow had already drifted against the side of the cabin, almost reaching the bottom of the window. The wind was relentless, swaying trees and whipping snow in every direction so it was hard to see anything but white. I pulled away from the window, just as Bucky set a couple of mugs on the counter and spooned some instant coffee into each of them.

“Steve wasn’t kidding about it being a bad storm,” I mused, and Bucky shook his head.

“This is just the beginning, too. It’s going to get much worse.”

The kettle started boiling, and Bucky grabbed it and brought it back to the counter, filling the mugs with the steaming water. He stirred two spoonfuls of sugar into mine, just the way I liked it, and then slid it across the counter to me.

“Thanks,” I murmured, letting the heated ceramic warm my hands. We sipped our coffee in silence for a few moments, the only sounds the crackling of the fire and the howling wind outside. It really was peaceful here, and I admitted as much.

“Yeah, it’s the kind of place you go when you want to get away,” he murmured, eyes fixed on the window over my shoulder. He met my gaze, a sad smile on his face. “Sometimes it’s too much, y’know? I mean, I know I’ve been living in the twenty-first century long enough now that I should be used to it, but I grew up in the thirties – We didn’t have cell phones, or computers, or the internet, or even a fraction of today’s technology. We didn’t feel the need to constantly know what’s happening in everyone’s lives, and we weren’t able to be reached by the single press of a button. Things were simpler…quieter. Being here reminds me of that.”

A smile tugged at my lips, and Bucky’s brow furrowed.

“What?” he asked. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I like it when you talk about yourself,” I told him. “Especially when you talk about your life before the war.”

Bucky snorted, but his cheeks were tinted pink. “Most people hate listening to old men ramble,” he pointed out, and I shook my head with a chuckle.

“You aren’t a typical old man,” I said. “And besides, it’s very rare to get any stories out of you. So when you do open up, it’s nice. It’s like getting to see a glimpse into the elusive mind of Bucky Barnes.”

Suddenly Bucky frowned, eyes casting down to stare at the mug in his hands. “You wouldn’t think it was so nice if you got more than a glimpse,” he mumbled. “I don’t open up because no one wants to see what’s underneath. The surface is safe, but anything deeper and you’re approaching dangerous territory.”

I pursed my lips; he looked so sullen. I reached across the counter to slip my hand over top of his, and he looked startled but he didn’t pull away. “The right person won’t be scared,” I murmured, and he shook his head.

“They should be. Most people are.”

“But not everyone.” I bit my lip, and Bucky swallowed hard as he held my eyes. The air was suddenly heavy, but the sound of a giant crack outside had us jumping. Bucky had rounded the island in a second, placing himself between the door and me. “What was that?” I asked warily.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I should go outside and check it out, though.”

My eyes widened. “Are you insane? It’s snowmageddon out there!” I cried. “Buck, you can’t go out there.”

“If there’s something out there, I have to take care of it,” he said, having made up his mind. He was already pulling on his boots. “Stay here. Lock the door behind me, and keep your gun close just in case. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He zipped up his jacket and grabbed his pistol, and I frowned.

“Buck…? Be careful,” I said softly, and an unexpected grin flashed across his face.

“I’m always careful, doll,” he said, and then he pulled open the door. The wind blew flurries into the cabin, and Bucky turned to wink at me before he disappeared out into the blizzard.

I did as he said, locking the door behind him before grabbing my pistol from the shelf by the door. I tapped the grip with my fingertips restlessly, pacing the kitchen, my coffee forgotten. I couldn’t imagine anyone being out in this blizzard, but what if they were? What if HYDRA had found us, and Bucky was out in that storm trying to fight them off? Surely I would have heard gunfire by now if that were the case, though…

Minutes passed that felt like hours, and then there was someone pounding on the wooden door. I held my pistol, ready to aim just in case, and cautiously walked over to the door.

“(Y/N), it’s me!” Bucky shouted, pounding again. I could barely hear him over the roaring of the wind, but I quickly unlocked the door and wrenched it open, to reveal a very cold-looking Bucky. I stepped aside so he could come in, and then I was dusting the snow off his shoulders.

“So what was the noise?” I asked, and he frowned.

“The wind snapped a bough off one of the pine trees,” he replied as he shrugged out of his jacket. I took it and hung it off a hook.

“We aren’t going to have any trees coming down on the cabin, are we?” I asked. Bucky shook his head, snow falling to the floor.

“No, we’re safe in here.” He toed off his boots. “It’s wild out there. I haven’t seen a storm like this since my time in Siberia.”

His cheeks were ruddy from the cold, and ice crystals had accumulated on his eyelashes like tiny diamonds. His jacket had done little to protect him from the snow, as his shirt was as soaked as his pants.

“You’re covered in snow,” I griped. “Go change into some dry clothes. I’ll make some fresh coffee to warm you up.”

Bucky shot me a grateful look before heading to the bedroom. I heated the kettle back up over the fire and then poured two fresh cups of coffee. I handed Bucky his as he came back out to the kitchen.

“Thanks, doll,” he murmured. “At this rate, the snow’s gonna be halfway up the cabin before nightfall.”

“I’m just glad winters in New York aren’t like this,” I breathed. “God, can you imagine having to dig your way out every time it snows?”

Bucky nodded in agreement. “I don’t mind a little snow here and there, but I’ve spent enough time in Austria and Russia during the winter to last me a hundred lifetimes.”

I grinned. “Who’d have thought that the Winter Soldier would hate winter.” I teased, and he shrugged.

“You spend enough time living in the snow and ice and cold, with very little sunshine, and you’d hate it too.”

“That must be why you liked Wakanda so much.”

Bucky took a sip of his coffee. “I liked Wakanda mostly for the same reason I like it here – Things were simpler,” he said. “The city may be the most technologically-advanced in the world, but it’s surrounded by miles of farmland and plains. T’Challa let me live just outside the city, in my own little hut, and I farmed the land. I may have grown up in New York City, but farming in Wakanda and having no cares in the world was an absolute blessing.”

“It sounds perfect,” I admitted. “I’ve always wanted to see Wakanda; I’ve never been.”

“I’ll tell you what; I’ll take you with me the next time I go,” Bucky told me. “How’s that sound?”

“You’d do that?” I breathed, and Bucky nodded.

“Sure. You’ll love it. And I know you and Shuri would get along great.”

I grinned into my mug, cheeks pink. I couldn’t believe Bucky and I were making plans to travel together.

As the day wore on, the blizzard only got worse. The snow was already partly covering the windows, and I was thankful that I wasn’t claustrophobic. A quick search of the cabin revealed there wasn’t much to do here; Bucky redressed my arm with a new bandage, and then we heated some canned soup over the fire for lunch. I had found an old copy of Bram Stoker’s Dracula and had laid back on the couch to read it despite having already read it twice before, just to give me something to do. Bucky had sat on the floor, leaning against the armchair, with a piece of firewood and one of his knives. He had been whittling at the piece of wood for half an hour now, and I looked up from my book with a scrunched nose.

“What is it you’re making, anyway?” I asked. “Other than a mess of wood shavings, that is.”

Bucky looked up from what he was doing to give me a disparaging look. “You’ll see when it’s finished,” he replied, and I rolled my eyes dramatically.

“Fine,” I sighed, dragging out the word. “Where did you learn to do that, anyway?”

“My grandfather,” he replied. “He taught me when I was a kid. He used to make beautiful carvings, some as tall as me.” He grinned ruefully. “My knife skills have improved over the years – I was certainly no professional when I was younger.”

Seeing Bucky reminisce had quickly become one of my favourite things. I smiled. “Well I’m looking forward to seeing what you’ve made.”

It was another hour before Bucky finally set down his knife on the coffee table. I looked up from my book, curiosity winning over as I set the book on the table, and sat up straight. Almost hesitantly, Bucky set the little wooden figure in my hand. It was a little wolf, head raised in a howl. The details were intricate, right down to the fur patterns and the tiny teeth. My eyes widened in awe, and I shook my head as I met Bucky’s gaze.

“Bucky…” I breathed. “This is…this is beautiful. You’re so talented! How did I not know you were so talented?”

“It’s not something I go around advertising,” he mumbled, cheeks pink and expression bashful.

“Jesus, you and Steve never cease to amaze,” I said. “Steve with his drawing, and you with this. Wow. Shit. And here I thought Steve was the artistic one.”

“Steve is the artistic one,” Bucky told me. “He’s the one who took art classes in school. I focused more on baseball and boxing. This was just more of a hobby that I kept to myself.”

“Well you’re clearly more than meets the eye, Bucky Barnes,” I murmured, turning the wolf over in my hands in wonder. “This is amazing.”

“Keep it,” he said, and my eyes rounded.

“What?”

“Keep it,” he repeated with a shrug. “I want you to have it.”

“Thank you,” I breathed sincerely as I ran my fingertips over the surface. I looked up at Bucky with one eyebrow arched. “Just out of curiosity, why a wolf?”

Bucky’s lips quirked up, and his eyes glittered. “Back in Wakanda, the kids used to call me ‘Ingcuka Emhlophe’,” he explained, a fond expression on his face. “It means ‘White Wolf.’ I liked it a lot better than being referred to as ‘The Soldier’ or ‘The White Boy,’ so I never stopped the Wakandans from calling me White Wolf.”

“White Wolf?” I chuckled. “Because you were the only white guy in Wakanda?”

“Something like that,” he admitted with a small smile.

I grinned. “I like it. It suits you.” I looked down at the carved figurine again. “I really do love this, too. It’s like I’ll always have a little part of the White Wolf with me.”

A childlike grin took over Bucky’s face at my words, and he nodded. “Exactly,” he murmured, and in that moment, a bond was created between Bucky and I.

The temperature dropped when the sun went down, and the wind and snow hadn’t let up. We’d lit candles all over the cabin, both as a source of light and extra heat, and despite the storm raging outside it made the cabin feel pleasantly cozy.

“It feels like we should have a Christmas tree,” I murmured. “With the candles and the fire, it would be completely cozy.”

Bucky chuckled. “I could go out there and cut a tree down for you, doll, but we’d have nothing to decorate it with.”

“I love how you aren’t questioning why I’d want a Christmas tree in February.”

“Who wouldn’t want a Christmas tree in February?” Bucky replied. “Hell, Christmas year ‘round is something I could get behind.”

“So, Bucky Barnes loves Christmas,” I mused. “Add that to the mental file of things I’ve learned about you since getting stranded here.”

“We stay here any longer and you’ll officially know more about me than anyone but Steve,” he snorted, and I laughed.

“I think I already have that in the bag. For instance, how many people can say they know you’re a cuddler?”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed. “The hell I am –”

“You were snuggled right up to me all night, Barnes; don’t try to deny it.”

“I was keeping you warm,” he protested, and I smirked.

“And after I’d woken up and you held me tighter like you didn’t want me to get up?”

Bucky flushed crimson. “Tell anyone and I will make sure you get put on all the bullshit missions,” he mumbled, and I giggled.

“It was cute,” I assured him. “I wish more people knew that Bucky, instead of the tough and stoic Bucky you show the world.” My face softened. “I wish I knew that Bucky better. He might just be one of my new favourite people.”

“That Bucky doesn’t come out very often,” Bucky said, ducking his head. “Besides, he’s too soft. You can’t be soft in this line of business.”

I shook my head. “You’re always in a work frame of mind,” I accused. “Doesn’t it get exhausting?”

“Why do you think I was okay with being stranded here?”

We were silent for a minute, and then I bumped his arm playfully with mine. “Enough serious talk,” I said. “Come sit by the fire with me. I’m starting to get chilled.”

Bucky grinned and followed me to the living room. I took the fur blanket from the back of the couch and spread it over the hardwood floor in front of the hearth and settled onto it, my back leaning against the coffee table. Bucky settled down next to me, pulling a brown bottle from under the table.

“Look what I found earlier,” he said, holding it out to me. It was whiskey. I took the bottle from him with an eyebrow arched.

“You can’t even get drunk,” I pointed out, and he shrugged.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy it. It’s single-barrel and aged twelve years. This is top-shelf whiskey,” Bucky replied. “Open it and tell me it’s not smooth as hell.”

Tentatively, I unscrewed the cap and took a mouthful. It was strong but smooth, warming my belly almost immediately. I grinned as I handed the bottle back to Bucky. “It is pretty good,” I admitted. He took a swig and nodded.

We each downed another mouthful, and then Bucky turned his head to look at me with his head slightly cocked to the side. “You’ve gotten to learn a bunch about me,” he said, “but I want to hear about you. Tell me something about (Y/N) (Y/L/N) that no one knows.”

I wrinkled my nose. “I’m an open book.”

“Then you’ll have no trouble with this. C’mon, (Y/N), there must be something no one knows about you. Let’s hear it.”

Biting my lip, I gazed at the fire. I wasn’t sure if it was the whiskey buzzing in my veins or just how at-ease I felt right now, but when I opened my mouth the words came spilling out.

“I got married, when I was seventeen,” I admitted quietly, and Bucky’s eyes rounded. “When…when I was sixteen, I was diagnosed with ovarian cancer. They caught it early enough that they could treat it with chemo, and we thought it had worked. But then it came back, and I got really sick really fast. My boyfriend at the time – Adam – was scared I wasn’t going to make it through the second round of chemo. We had made plans to go to Columbia together to study law.” I shook my head, sad smile on my face. “We were young and we thought we were in love, so we wanted to be married before…well, before I died.”

Bucky was looking at me with a mixture of shock, horror and respect. He shook his head, jaw agape. “(Y/N), I didn’t…I had no idea,” he breathed, and I chuckled.

“No one on the team knows,” I replied. “The only people that know are my family, and Adam and his family.”

“But you’re healthy now?” he asked, worry creasing his brow. I nodded.

“They ended up having to remove my ovaries because the chemo wasn’t working the second time, and they took out my uterus too, just to be safe. I still have check-ups every year to be safe, but I’ve been cancer-free ever since.”

“And…your marriage…” Bucky shifted uncomfortably. “Are you still…?”

“God, no,” I snorted. “As soon as it was clear that I was going to make a full recovery, Adam realized that seventeen was way too young to be married. He wanted to be able to explore his options at Columbia – That’s what he told me. ‘And besides,’ he’d said, ‘I eventually want to have kids someday, and you can’t give me that.’”

Even now, saying it left a bitter taste in my mouth. I scowled, taking a large swig of the whiskey. Bucky frowned.

“What is he doing now?”

The question caught me off-guard. “He’s a divorce lawyer in Manhattan, ironically enough,” I replied, and Bucky snorted.

“So he’ll be easy to find, then,” he said, and I eyed him skeptically.

“Why would that matter?”

“Because the Winter Soldier just might pay him a visit when we get back to New York.”

My eyes widened, and I leapt up onto my knees and shook my head vigorously. “Bucky, no,” I said. “Don’t you dare.”

“Relax, I was only gonna threaten him. Maybe rough him up a bit, y’know, scare him –”

“No. It was fourteen years ago, it’s in the past.” I grinned. “Besides, that asshole actually did me a favour – imagine if we were still married. I’d be absolutely miserable, in a loveless marriage and likely working as an underpaid lawyer. I would have never met Tony, or become an Avenger. And I wouldn’t be sitting here with you right now. So even though at the time Adam broke my heart, now I’m grateful for what he did.”

“I still think he deserves to have his ass kicked,” Bucky grumbled. He met my eyes, his gaze fierce but soft. “I underestimated you, (Y/N),” he murmured apologetically. “I knew you were tough, but…To go through what you did at such a young age, and then to have the one person you thought had your back abandon you like that, for selfish reasons…”

He shook his head, disgusted, and I chuckled. “Everything happens for a reason,” I said. “Honestly, the hardest thing to move on from out of the whole situation wasn’t the cancer or the divorce from Adam; it’s the knowledge that I will never be able to have children of my own.”

I glanced down at my hands, suddenly sad. Bucky had urged me to open up, and now that I had started, I couldn’t stop. I bit my lip to keep it from quivering.

“(Y/N), hey,” Bucky murmured, and then he was kneeling in front of me and taking a gentle hold of my chin to lift my gaze to his. He was frowning, but his eyes were soft. “Wanna know something else about me that no one knows?”

My lips twitched. “Another Bucky Barnes tidbit? Of course.”

Bucky’s smile was sad. “I can’t have kids either,” he told me. “After all the experimentation HYDRA did on me to try and copy the serum Irskine created for Steve, it…messed with things. At first it was just a suspicion, but…When I started getting my life back on track, I wanted to know for sure. I got them to run tests while I was in Wakanda, and the results confirmed my suspicions; the experiments had made me sterile.”

My heart sank, and I felt tears spring to my eyes. “Oh, Bucky…” I whispered, and then before I knew what I was doing I had thrown my arms around him and pressed my face to his chest. I had startled him; I could feel it in the way his body tensed. But then his arms wound around me and he smoothed my hair with a large hand.

“It’s funny,” he murmured, “how you never really realize you want something until you’re told you can’t have it. Steve was always the one who dreamed about settling down and having kids; I was always wanting to travel and see the world. But after everything I’ve been through, settling down with a family sounded nice. Of course, life had other plans.”

“You deserve so much more than life has given you,” I sniffed, pulling away from him. He reached up to brush his thumb across my cheekbone, catching a stray tear that had escaped, and smiled sadly.

“So do you, doll,” he murmured. “You’re an incredible woman – Kind, strong, smart, beautiful…Anyone that doesn’t see that is an idiot.”

My heart fluttered against my ribcage, and I bit my lip. His mouth was close enough that if I just tilted my head and leaned in…

No. I pulled back, and lifted the bottle of whiskey to my lips to down a large mouthful. That was a bad idea; a very bad idea. It was just the candles and the fire and the alcohol and the situation – I didn’t really want Bucky. Did I?

I cleared my throat. “I must be surrounded by idiots, then,” I joked, to ease the tension in the room. Bucky chuckled and settled back into the spot next to me.

“Men are dumb,” he said simply. “They were dumb a hundred years ago, and they’re dumb now. The only thing that’s changed is that now they have more ways to be dumb.”

I arched an eyebrow. “Are you speaking from experience?” I asked, and he shot me a rueful grin.

“I’ve done my fair share of dumb things when it comes to women,” he admitted. “My mother raised me to be a gentleman, and I had sisters so I knew how to act around girls. But sometimes none of that mattered and I still did something stupid to ruin things.” He shrugged. “No one is perfect, I guess.”

“I don’t know…From what Steve has said, you were pretty smooth with the ladies in your day,” I teased, and Bucky snorted.

“I could have gone on one date with one girl and Steve would have thought I was Casanova,” he deadpanned. “The poor kid couldn’t even talk to a dame without damn near having an asthma attack.”

The laughter bubbled from my chest before I could stop it. Bucky grinned, and I shook my head as I struggled to compose myself.

“Tell me Steve was wrong, though,” I insisted after a minute. “Tell me you weren’t the ladies’ man he makes you out to be.”

Bucky’s cheeks flushed, and he pursed his lips. “I’ve been with my fair share of girls,” he admitted with a shrug, and I nodded.

“I figured as much.”

“But,” he continued, “I was always good to them. I never treated them as objects, and things always ended on good terms. My mama raised me well.”

“I never suggested any different,” I told him, and his brow furrowed.

“Then why does it matter how many girls I’ve been with?”

“It doesn’t; I was just curious to see if Steve’s stories were true.”

Bucky was silent for a moment, and then he turned his head to the side to look at me. “(Y/N), can I ask you a question?”

I hesitated. “If you’re asking how many guys I’ve been with, a lady never tells,” I joked, trying once again to ease the tension in the air. Bucky’s lips twitched, but he shook his head.

“No, not that,” he said. He wet his lips before continuing. “Did it actually bother you to think Natasha and I had been here together?”

My stomach was in my throat. Bucky’s eyes searched mine, and I couldn’t pull my gaze away as I swallowed nervously. I couldn’t lie, though; the alcohol had my wits dulled, and he would detect a lie as soon as it came out of my mouth. Finally, I shrugged.

“I wasn’t thrilled about it,” I admitted, and he frowned.

“Why, though?”

This was where it got complicated, because I wasn’t entirely sure myself why it had bothered me so much. “I don’t know. She’s just so beautiful, and the two of you have so much in common, I…” I felt the heat creep up my neck to my face. “It just…it bothered me to think that the two of you had been here, maybe in a similar situation to the one we’re in, and maybe she got you to open up to her in a way no one else had been able to do. I hated the thought that the two of you are perfect for each other and that…that things happened, and that she likely knew you better than I ever would.”

By now, my cheeks were flaming. I had torn my gaze from his to stare instead at the fire, watching the flames like they were the only things holding me down. I had opened my big mouth, and now there was no going back. I felt embarrassed, pathetic and vulnerable, and part of me wished the flames would swallow me whole.

“That’s…a lot to unpack,” Bucky finally exhaled, and I buried my face in my hands.

“I’m sorry,” I groaned. “I shouldn’t have said anything…”

“The only thing you have to be sorry for, doll, is thinking that I would, in any scenario, choose Natasha over you.”

I froze, and then peeked through my fingers at him cautiously. He was watching me intensely, and I swallowed hard as I removed my hands from my face.

“What are you saying?” I asked quietly, and Bucky chuckled.

“I’m saying that, just as I’ve told everyone a thousand times before, Natasha is not my type. We’re almost too similar, in the wrong ways.” He shook his head. “I told you this morning that you had no reason to be jealous of her, doll. I meant it.”

My voice was small. “I had no right to be jealous,” I whispered. “It’s not like I expected anything to happen between you and I.”

“No?” Bucky had shifted his body to face me, and now he was looking at me with the same unreadable expression I’d seen on his face twice the day before. His flesh hand reached out to tug gently at the sleeve of my shirt – his shirt – as he wet his lips and looked back up to meet my eyes. “So you’re telling me,” he murmured, “that you have no idea what you’re doing to me, walking around here wearing my shirt?”

I tugged my bottom lip between my teeth. Bucky’s eyes were hooded, and I felt my whole body heating under his gaze. I swallowed before speaking.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” I breathed, voice barely above a whisper, and he shook his head.

“What did I tell you about apologizing, doll?” he told me. “I’m not mad. How can I be mad when you wear that shirt better than I ever could? It’s almost sinful, what it does to me, seeing you wearing my clothes.”

“So is that why you gave me the shirt in the first place?” I asked, feeling suddenly bold. Bucky’s eyes glittered.

“I gave it to you because you were turning into a popsicle and I knew my body heat would be trapped in the fabric and it would warm you up faster,” he replied with a chuckle. “In the moment, my thoughts had been about making you comfortable. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I’d let anything happen to you.”

My insides melted. “Did that concern for me come as concern for a teammate, or a friend…?” I asked. “Or…?”

“Or,” Bucky agreed, his own cheeks pink now. “Something else. Something more. Something I hadn’t been able to explain for weeks now, until the second I saw you with my shirt on.”

My brow furrowed. “Weeks?”

This time he ducked his head. “Remember that mission in São Paulo a few weeks ago?” he asked, and I nodded.

“The one where I jumped onto that school bus to save those kids?” I asked, and Bucky frowned.

“You mean the one where you almost died?”

“If I didn’t do something those kids would have died –”

“(Y/N), you were on a third-storey balcony and you jumped onto a moving bus whose hood was entirely engulfed in flames…” Bucky shook his head. “That’s not the point. The point is that when I saw you jump onto that bus, I swear to god my heart stopped. I mean, there’s the concern you feel for your teammates when they’re in a dangerous situation. But then there’s the heart-wrenching fear you get when you’re about to watch someone you care about get seriously hurt or even die. And when that thought crossed my mind, (Y/N) – the thought that I was about to lose you – I’d never felt more terrified for someone else in my entire life. And I couldn’t understand at the time why it mattered so much to me, but now…Now I get it.”

For a few seconds, the air hung heavy as neither of us spoke. The only sounds in the cabin were the howling of the wind outside, the crackling of the fire in the hearth, and our shallow and ragged breaths. I realized that my body had slowly, subconsciously gravitated closer to Bucky’s; our knees touched, and my hand was resting on his thigh. My eyes caught the way his gaze lingered on my lips before flicking up to meet mine, and before I could talk myself out of it, I was sitting up and capturing Bucky’s lips with mine.

There was no resistance as his soft lips moved against mine, hands on my waist to pull me into his lap. My legs straddled his hips, and my arms circled around his neck as his hands held tight to my waist. My tongue teased his bottom lip and his mouth yielded to mine, allowing me to explore the kiss deeper as his hands roamed across my back and pulled me closer to him. His lips broke from mine to trail down my jaw to my throat, where he nipped teasingly at the sensitive flesh. I tilted my head back to allow him better access, and as his mouth nipped and sucked at my throat, no doubt leaving his mark on me, his hands had slipped under the hem of his Henley to knead at my flesh. I let out a soft groan, and felt him grin against my neck.

“Y’know, doll,” he murmured, lifting his head to nip lightly at my earlobe, “as much as I like seeing you wearing my shirt, I think I’d like it even more if I got to take it off of you.”

I shivered, and then I was lifting my arms so Bucky could slowly tug the shirt over my head, revealing that I wasn’t wearing a bra. His gaze fell to my chest, eyes dark as his tongue darted out to wet his lips. I should have felt exposed, but the hunger with which he was regarding me with only had me dizzy with desire. He took his time admiring me, hands slowly roaming my curves, but avoiding my breasts purposely.

“God, you’re even more beautiful than I imagined,” he murmured, voice husky, and I took his face in my hands and pulled his mouth back to mine in a fierce kiss. My fingers ran through his hair and he sighed into my mouth, flesh hand sliding down my back to give my ass a playful squeeze. I squealed and he grinned wolfishly.

“Oh, this is gonna be fun,” he chuckled, and my body trembled in anticipation. When he leaned in to take one of my nipples into his mouth and suck lightly, I keened, fingers tangling in his hair.

“Bucky…” I whined, and he peppered soft kisses across my chest.

“Yeah, doll?” he murmured, hands massaging my hips as his mouth tended to my breasts. I let out a huff, trying to compose myself enough to speak. His touch already had me hazy, though, and it was difficult to form words.

“Too many clothes,” I finally managed to mumble, and he took the hint as he leaned back enough to yank the t-shirt over his head. My eyes dropped to his bare chest, and then my fingertips were tracing the dips and planes of his hard muscles. I could feel those muscles contracting under my touch, and when I reached his shoulder where metal met flesh I hesitated. Bucky scowled.

“It’s not pretty, I know,” he mumbled, and I pursed my lips. I pressed a quick kiss to his mouth before letting my lips ghost over the puckered skin on his shoulder. Bucky inhaled sharply, and when I reached down to thread my fingers through his vibranium ones and lift his hand to kiss his knuckles, he watched me with burning eyes and a slack jaw.

“There isn’t a single thing about you that could make me want you any less, Bucky Barnes,” I whispered, and then his free hand was cupping the back of my neck and pulling my mouth back to his. The kiss was slow, tender and deep, and I hugged my body tighter to his in an effort to be closer to him. In doing so, it put me in a position to feel the bulge in the front of Bucky’s sweatpants. I rocked my hips against his experimentally with the tiniest of whimpers when I was rewarded with the friction I craved, and Bucky’s breath hitched.

“Doll…” he rasped, hands tightening on my waist. I pulled back to meet his gaze with hooded eyes.

“Please…” I begged softly. “Bucky, please.”

I was fully aware of how desperate I sounded, but it was a shameless awareness. The need to feel his touch ran so deep it was practically an ache – An ache I desperately needed him to soothe. His eyes were black pools of lust as he looked at me, licking his lips as he contemplated his next move carefully.

“So needy, baby girl,” he murmured, fingertips teasing as they skimmed across my bare flesh. I shuddered and he grinned lazily. “God, the things I wanna do to you…You want me to touch you, doll?”

I nodded, unable to speak. Bucky’s eyes sparkled.

“Gonna take real good care of you, sweetheart, I promise. Gonna show you how a real man treats a woman as incredible as you.” He kissed the valley between my breasts, hands playing with the waistband of my sweatpants. I was on fire, between his words and his touch, and I was spiralling into a daze that I wasn’t sure I ever wanted to leave. “Is that what you want, doll?” Bucky murmured. “You want me to take care of that ache for you?”

I whimpered; was it that obvious I was aching for him? I could only nod meekly, but Bucky shook his head.

“Words, doll,” he said, gentle but firm. “I’m not doing a thing until I hear you say it.”

His voice was still husky, but his eyes were suddenly cautious, as if he wasn’t sure I actually wanted this. I frowned, in disbelief that even now he was letting his insecurities convince him he wasn’t the only thing in the world I wanted. I took his face firmly between my hands and held his gaze to mine.

“I want you to claim me as yours,” I whispered, “so that when anyone sees the two of us together, they know I belong to you and only you. I want you to fuck me so good that I can still feel you even after we’ve gotten back to New York.”

Bucky’s eyes darkened until just the thinnest ring of blue remained around his pupils. “Oh, fuck,” he choked out, and then he was laying me down as his mouth claimed mine in a searing kiss. The blanket was soft on the skin of my back, protecting against the chill of the hardwood underneath, but I wouldn’t care if I was laying outside in the snow if it meant Bucky would touch me.

His hands slowly – agonizingly – dragged the sweatpants from my hips. I let out a huff of frustration and he chuckled.

“Patience, darlin’,” he breathed. “I wanna take my time with you, but I promise I’ll make it all worth it.”

Bucky kissed his way up the inside of my leg and then down the other, purposely ignoring where I needed him the most. When his hands finally pushed my legs apart at the knees to expose me, I was a mess, biting my lip with my chest heaving. His eyes raked over my core hungrily before flashing up to my face.

“Fucking hell,” he rasped. “Look at you, doll; you’re dripping like honey.”

“All for you, Buck,” I said, breathless. “This is what you do to me.”

Bucky groaned, and then his fingers swiped through my folds. I gasped at the sudden contact, back arching off the floor, and the grin that stretched across his face was pure sin. Pulling my legs over his shoulders, he wrapped his arms loosely around my thighs and then licked a clean stripe up my slit. I cried out, back arching again, and his arms tugged my hips back down gently.

“Good girl,” he murmured, before his mouth went back to work. His tongue explored my folds, and then dipped into my entrance to gather my juices. I squeezed my eyes shut, hands fisting into the soft fur of the blanket beneath me as electricity buzzed through every nerve in my body. “Sweet as candy,” Bucky murmured into my flesh, and I keened.

When his lips wrapped around my clit and sucked, my hips bucked and I writhed in Bucky’s grasp. He let me shamelessly grind against his face for a few moments, but then his arms were firm as they pushed my hips back down to the blanket and held them there. His mouth continued its assault on my core, licking and sucking and nibbling until my chest was flushed and I was reduced to incoherent moans and whimpers. With my hips locked into place, I had to use my hands to direct his mouth. My fingers tangled in his hair, tugging on the dark locks to hold his face to me, and Bucky groaned into me, sending vibrations through my core that had a fresh wave of heat crash through me. I tugged harder, nails scraping his scalp, and he growled.

“Oh, you’re asking for it now,” he said in a low voice, and then he was teasing my entrance with not one, but two fingers. He pushed them into me slowly, watching my face for my reaction, and I moaned obscenely as he curled them and his knuckles brushed my walls. With a triumphant smirk, Bucky’s lips reattached to my clit as his thick fingers pumped in and out of me at an excruciatingly slow pace. My breaths were coming out in sharp rasps as I felt the coil in my belly tighten, teetering oh-so-close to the edge.

Bucky must have been able to tell I was close, because he added a third finger and grazed my clit lightly with his teeth. I cried out his name as he pushed me over the edge, eyes squeezed shut and hands curling into fists in his hair. He pulled out his fingers and helped me ride out my high with gentle licks and soft kisses, and when my body finally relaxed, boneless, against the blanket, he kissed his way up my body to press his lips to mine.

I tasted myself on his tongue, and I hummed delightedly. Bucky grinned into the kiss and nipped at my bottom lip playfully.

“I have never seen something more beautiful than you when you come undone, doll, fuck,” he breathed. “If I died right now, I would die a happy man.”

I giggled and pinched his side teasingly. “We’re not done yet,” I told him wryly, and then my hands were shoving Bucky’s sweatpants off his hips. He kicked them off impatiently, and my hand immediately wrapped around him. He grunted, and I felt the heat pool in my belly as I let out a soft whine – He was thick and hot and impossibly hard in my grip, and my walls were already clenching in anticipation.

I began to slide my hand up and down his shaft, and a low hiss escaped Bucky’s lips as his eyes fluttered shut. I tried to push him off me so I could trade my hand for my mouth, but Bucky shook his head.

“No,” he said gruffly, and my brow furrowed in confusion.

“What?”

I must have had a hurt look on my face, because his eyes widened and he was quick to press a tender kiss to my lips. “Oh, baby girl, no, it’s not like that,” he said quickly. “I would love to know how your mouth feels, trust me, but right now, my god, I need to be inside you so badly it hurts.”

“Oh…” I breathed, biting my lip. Bucky’s hand replaced mine on his length and he lined himself up with my entrance, teasing it with the tip. My breath hitched, and he looked at me imploringly.

“You sure about this?” he murmured, and instead of answering I rocked my hips against his, allowing him to slip fully inside me in one smooth stroke.

Bucky’s eyes rounded; I had surprised him. They quickly darkened as he let out a low groan, and I bit my lip, letting out a whine as he stretched me better than I’d ever been stretched before. Bucky held still for a moment, giving me time to adjust to his size and him time to compose himself.

I tilted my head up, lips searching for his, and he dipped his head to oblige me. When we broke apart, he rested his forehead against mine, breath hot against my face.

“Tell me when you’re ready,” he murmured.

“I’m ready,” I replied without hesitation. “Please, Buck…”

With a strangled groan, Bucky slowly slid out of me before pushing back in. I drew a shuddering breath, relishing in how full I felt with him inside me. The pace he set was languid and unhurried, and despite having been so desperate to feel him, now that we were joined, I was more than happy with slowing things down. There was no need to rush – We weren’t leaving the cabin anytime soon, which meant we had plenty of time to learn every inch of each other’s bodies.

Every languorous stroke was well-placed, hitting me in all the right spots until I was whimpering and entirely at Bucky’s mercy. I quickly came to the conclusion, though, that Bucky was just as much at my mercy as I was at his; I could feel it in every tender touch, kiss and thrust that he was all in – That this was more than just fuelled by desire. It had been a long time since someone had been so attentive to my body and my feelings, it made my heart swell.

“Look at me,” Bucky suddenly whispered. “Look at me, doll.”

I hadn’t even realized my eyes had been closed, and I blinked them open, only to have my breath catch in my throat. Bucky’s face hovered above mine, his eyes fixed on mine. I could see the fire dancing in his irises, casting golden streaks through the pools of blue; he had never been more breathtaking than he was right now. It wasn’t the colours in his eyes that had taken my breath away, though; it was the expression they held. Bucky, normally so closed-off and hard to read, was an entirely open book. His eyes held everything that his mouth couldn’t say – Trust, happiness, reverence, adoration…There was even something else there, something I dared not even put into thought for fear of ruining if before it could even begin. He was completely vulnerable, vulnerable for me, and I knew how big of a deal that was for him. With a lump in my throat and my heart fluttering wildly against my ribcage, I lifted a hand to brush my fingertips across his lips.

“James…” I said breathlessly. The use of his real name had him groaning softly, and then he was dipping his head to kiss me deeply. He snapped his hips into mine, still at the same slow pace, but with more force behind the strokes now. A breathy whine escaped my lips and Bucky pressed his forehead to mine, chest heaving as he fought to even his breathing.

“Eyes on me, doll,” he panted, rolling his hips into mine and earning another wanton moan. “I want to see you when you come apart around me.”

“Fuck…” I whimpered, forcing my eyes to remain open despite it being so natural for them to drift shut as the coil in my belly tightened. Bucky’s gaze was piercing, hungry, and unabashedly intimate as he fucked into me, slow and hard and so unbelievably good that the rest of the world – the storm still roaring outside, the knowledge that HYDRA was probably out there looking for us, our teammates back home planning to rescue us – melted away until it was just him and I, our bodies joined in the most profound and visceral way, energy buzzing from his body to mine and back again until it was impossible to tell where he ended and I began.

I reached my climax only seconds before Bucky did, brows knitting together as I struggled to keep my eyes on him, lips parted as I gasped sharply. Bucky’s eyes clouded over with pure, unadulterated desire, and then his hips stuttered and he was spilling into me with a groan that rumbled deep in his chest, his expression one of absolute bliss. His mouth found mine as we rode out our highs; the kiss was sloppy and lazy, both of us absolutely spent, but it was also sweet and tender. Bucky’s nose bumped mine affectionately, and then he was dipping his head to press his face to the juncture between my neck and shoulder.

My fingers carded idly through his damp hair for a handful of seconds, and he hummed contentedly. Then his arms circled under me and he rolled us over so he was on his back and I was sprawled across his chest, our legs tangled together and his softening member still inside me.

Neither of us said anything, but we didn’t have to; our bodies had already said everything that needed to be said. The wind still wailed outside, but the fire kept the cabin cozy, and the flames from the hearth and the candles bathed the room in a warm, golden glow. Bucky’s hand brushed through my hair before his fingertips swept down the naked expanse of my body, raising goosebumps on my flushed skin. I turned my head to press my lips to his heated chest, burying myself further in his embrace, and in this moment – skin-to-skin, curled up on a soft blanket by a crackling fire – I was more grateful than I ever thought I could be for a plane crash in the mountains in Austria.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky reader smut #smut #reader insert #fluff #mentions of cancer #infertility #insecure bucky barnes #cute #so much smut #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes #mcu

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hollandbaby · 5 years ago

Text

roommates - t.h smut

a/n: um so i haven’t written in a long time pls be kind. this is just a 4.9k one shot based on how i’m feeling, sexually frustrated, but unfortunately I’m not in lockdown with tom so cannot have sex with him. also I’m tipsy. AND feedback is much appreciated

warnings; smut, oral (f receiving), daddy kink, choking, biting, scratching, super long intro

You had lived with your lifetime best friend, Tom, for just over a year now, alongside his best friends Harrison and Tuwaine and his younger brother Harry. There was never a dull moment in the house, even when Tom’s away filming the other boys provide just as much entertainment. You’re used to spending lots of time with the boys, but when it’s announced lockdown was in place, it took a toll on everyone. Tom is unable to work which is a benefit considering he’s allowed to actually rest finally, plus he’s around a lot more which is nice. Harrison is always practicing his juggling which is entertaining until he breaks your favourite lamp. Tuwaine and Harry tends to keep to themselves, mostly playing video games or working from home. But boy was the house becoming messy.

“Alright, who’s underwear are these and why are they on the living room floor!?” You shout to the house, picking up the pants by the broom you had in your hand.

“Whadda they look like?” Shouts Harry, most likely on his laptop editing something.

“Grey Calvin’s but I know all of you own at least one pair so it’s not very helpful!”

You move to put them in the laundry basket by the washing machine, carrying on with your cleaning by sweeping the kitchen floor. Tom emerges from the bathroom, in just a pair of grey sweats and a towel wrapped around his neck, you try not to let yourself get distracted but it’s hard when you can see a single drop of water make its way down his toned, bronzed torso.

“Sorry, love, I think they may be mine,” he chuckles as he goes to fill the kettle for a cup of tea. He leans against the kitchen island, drying off his hair with his towel.

“What the fuck are they doing in the communal living room?” You ask, laughing as well. Living with boys may be hard sometimes due to the mess and the fact they’re all super dumb, but it’s so endearing and you have good times.

“I dunno, I probably threw them at one of the boys as a joke.” Tom giggles to himself but you roll your eyes.

“Well next time you throw your dirty laundry at someone pick it up after, doofus.” You chuckle, walking past Tom to head to your room for your wash bag before going for a shower. You turn the shower on and start to undress. You found yourself thinking about Tom, and the way he looked after his shower earlier, his wet curly hair all floppy and cute, water droplets falling onto his broad chest and toned abs. You’d never really thought about him sexually before, obviously he’s an attractive man and you’ve been close friends with him since you were kids, he knows you better than anyone, but you’d never realised just how hot he is. Maybe it was because you hadn’t had sex in over a month due to lockdown or maybe it’s because you’ve been able to spend more time with Tom recently, but there’s a familiar feeling in the pit of your stomach that stretches all the way down to your core. You bite your lip, stepping under the hot water, steam filling the bathroom as you try to wash away your sins.

You’re cooking dinner for everyone, Harrison, Harry and Tuwaine playing some game in the living room and Tom is just watching, laughing along with them. Tom looks over the sofa to you, watching your movements for a second before getting up off the sofa and walking to the kitchen.

“Need any help, darlin’?” He asks, as you chop up some vegetables.

“You can chop up some onions with me?” You smile at him, and he gets a feeling in the pit of his stomach. You both continue chopping and cooking the meal, Tom drinking beer and you wine as you both dance around the kitchen and giggle and sing with each other. You call the boys into the dining area, serving up dinner and grabbing drinks for all the boys. As you turn from the fridge to place the beers on the counter, Tom is already stood behind you, making you jump. He grabs your waist to steady you, and you’re grateful you didn’t drop any of the bottles.

“Sorry, love,” he chuckles as your face heats up, a mixture of the fact Tom’s warm hands are still on your waist and you just had a close call to a very messy and classy clean up.

“S’okay, I’m just glad I didn’t drop any of these! The boys would kill me,” you pop open all the bottles, attempting to grab them along with your bottle of wine AND glass.

“Woah there, darling, I’ll grab those for you,” Tom takes three of the bottles from you, letting out a breathy laugh at your disgruntled facial expression, your bottom lip slightly jutted out and hair falling in your face.

“Thank you,” you smile and pick up your wine and glass, following Tom’s lead back to the table.

The boys are all chatting away, dishing up their dinners as you and Tom place their beers down in front of them.

“Thank you so much for cooking, Y/N, we’ll wash up.” Harrison says, smiling at you.

“Will we?” Tuwaine chimes in, looking confused.

“Bro shut up.” Harry says, you roll your eyes but you’re laughing alongside them.

“Well maybe after dinner, and after Haz, Harry and Tuwaine wash up, we can do something together?” You suggest, sipping your wine before munching some more.

“Sounds good. What did you have in mind?” Asks Tom, eager to spend some time with you.

“Well we could all play some card games or a board game?”

And that’s how you end up drunkenly giggling at 1AM over monopoly.

“How the fuck did I get go to jail again?!”

“Unlucky Baz man, looks like you’re in jail again,” you giggle, moving his figurine to the jail space.

“How are you doing so well at this game Y/N? It’s like you’re the monopoly mastermind,” Harrison asks, slurring the M’s slightly.

“I dunno man I used to play a lot with my family, plus it’s a game of chance.”

“Well it’s a fucking stupid game of chance,” Harry chimes in, pouting at the fact he has to miss a go.

“Shut up, dickhead, you love this game,” Tom grabs Harry by his shoulders and puts him in a headlock, ruffling his hair.

“Tom!” Harry exclaims, thrashing around. He kicks the board, knocking all the houses and hotels and cards everywhere.

“Harry!” shouts Harrison, clearly angry at the fact he’s lost his place and cannot for the life of him remember where it was.

“Oh my god you’re all idiots,” you laugh, Tuwaine exclaiming a “hey don’t put me in that category with them!”

You finish the last gulp of your wine before attempting to stand up to grab another bottle. You steady yourself on Tom’s shoulder before heading over to the fridge. You can feel his eyes on you as you pour yourself some more wine, but he quickly looks away when you turn back around. The lads are all laughing together on the floor, sipping beers and being stupid.

“What’re you all laughing at?” You ask, smiling, as you go to join them on the floor, Tom’s hand gently grabbing yours to help you sit.

“Harry’s suggesting we play never have I ever,” Tuwaine laughs.

“It wasn’t just me! Harrison suggested it I just said sure why not!”

“God you’re all a bunch of kids. Alright, are we playing or not?” You ask, getting confident from the booze.

“I know I suggested it but the room is spinning so much right now I think I’m gonna throw up,” Harrison states, hiccuping.

“Wow, good one genius. Alright, let’s get you to bed. Night all,” Tuwaine gets up, picking Haz up in the process and wrapping his arm around his waist, guiding Harrison to his room before making his way to his own.

“Aaaand I’d rather go to bed than stay up for whatever weird shit is gonna happen between you two,” Harry says standing up and chugging the rest of his beer, “peace out.”

“And then there were two,” Tom chuckles, starting to pack away the long forgotten monopoly board. You help him, placing pieces in their respective compartments and giggling with each other.

“So how about that game of never have I ever?” You ask biting your lip. You look at Tom to find he’s already looking at you, cheeks flushed and a curl falling into his face.

“Sure,” he chuckles breathily, “I’ll just grab another beer.” You smile to yourself as you watch Tom walk to the kitchen, biting your lower lip as you realise you shouldn’t be staring at his ass as he walks away. Tom returns to the living room, you’ve moved onto the sofa now, put some music on and your feet up on the coffee table in front of you. He plops down on the sofa next to you and smiles, taking a swig of his beer.

“Alright. Never have I ever pissed my pants from laughing,” Tom chuckles to himself as you slap his chest.

“That was ONE time and it was a TINY amount!” You huff, taking a swig of your drink. You smirk as you pull your legs up onto the sofa, turning to face Tom. “Never have I ever tried to impress a girl by doing a backflip but it ending up awfully badly and I broke my wrist.”

“For fucks sake,” Tom throws his head back and groans, taking a swig of his drink. “She still went on a date with me though, I assume out of pity. Okay, ummm, never have I ever had sex in a park.” He’s smirking this time, knowing full well you definitely had.

“I was 16 and fucking stupid. Guy was a douche anyway. Okay never have I ever, been walked in on.” You laugh at this one. Harrison loved telling the story of the time he walked in on Tom and some girl he’d brought home from a bar.

“For fucks sake, I wish everyone would stop bringing that one up.” He drinks, keeping eye contact with you. “Never have I ever had sex with a roommate,” he licks his lips, watching as you take another sip of your wine. “How’s that even happen?”

“You know the story, Tom, I had to move out because of how awkward it got.” You frown at him, these never have i evers we’re getting too real. “Okay, never have I ever had phone sex.” You watch Tom roll his eyes and take a swig of his beer.

“You mean to tell me you’ve never had phone sex?”

“No, what’s the point when I could just have sex with someone?”

“What if you’re far away from someone you’re dating and can’t go see them? I was working on set you know.”

“I know that! These are to try and get you drunk Mr Holland that’s the aim of the game,” you smile at him, “your turn.”

“Never have I ever,” he trails off, lips pursing as he thinks of one to say, “never have I ever had a threesome.”

You pause for a second, eyebrows furrowed and eyes squinting wondering if he knew you’d had a threesome before or if he was just curious. Either way, you take a sip of your drink.

“Now, this I’ve got to hear,” Tom’s smirking, an eyebrow raised as he waits for the story.

“I thought you knew! Oh, god. So it was my first year of uni, I was fresh out of a bad relationship, exploring my options etc you know. I start having sex with this guy regularly, just causal stuff no feelings involved. One day he comes round, then this girl calls him and he asks if she can come for drinks too. Obviously I say yes because I’m already tipsy and open to anything. She comes round, we end up drinking 3 bottles of wine each and it just, happened.” You look to Tom, after taking a sip of your wine, your cheeks flushed but it’s nothing compared to the look of shock on Tom’s face. He’s aroused at the idea but he won’t let you know that. His mouth is agape, then he licks his lips and smirks.

“Wow who knew you were crazy like that?”

You slap his chest, “shut up! I bet you’ve been up to some crazy stuff. I’m surprised you’ve not had a threesome yet.”

“I’m not the type of man to share, darling.” He raises an eyebrow at you. “Besides, it was a foursome.”

“Ahhh and there it is.” You roll your eyes and smile, finishing off your drink. “Be a darling and grab my bottle from the fridge please, Tommy?” He tuts at your demand, nevertheless standing and going to grab your bottle. He grabs himself another beer too. You smile and thank him as he fills your glass, putting the bottle on the floor in case you need a refill. “I miss sex. That’s the worst part about all this shit.”

“Oh, totally agree. Stupid lockdown.” Tom sighs, sitting back down on the sofa next to you. You place your glass on the coffee table, turning to face Tom fully, resting your arm on the back of the sofa.

“What if we had sex?”

Tom spits his drink out, coughing and spluttering, getting his spat beer all over his white t shirt. “Shit. Um, what?”

“C’mon, we’re both adults with needs, it doesn’t have to be a big deal. Just a one time thing, a favour, to release all the sexual frustrations we’re both clearly experiencing since we don’t have dick or pussy on tap at the moment.” You pick your wine back up, taking a long swig before continuing. “I could just give you a blowie and we can go our separate ways.”

“Y/N, we live together. You said last time you did something like this it didn’t end well.”

“That was only a bad idea with my past roommate because he became obsessed with me after. Tom, we don’t have to do it it was just a suggestion.” You don’t know if it’s because the alcohol has given you a load of confidence or if it’s because you’ve not had sex in a long time but what you do know is that Tom is very attractive, especially when he runs his hand through his floppy curls, his white shirt tightening around his bicep. You lick your lips as your eyes rake up and down his body. You meet his brown eyes, his teeth biting down on his bottom lip.

“Conditions?”

“We can do whatever you want. My only condition is, we need a safe word. Actually, that and we probably shouldn’t tell the others what happened.”

“Agreed. Safe word can be pineapple.”

“Pineapple?” You laugh, leaning closer to Tom. You can smell his cologne, and it’s absolutely divine.

“I dunno. It was the first thing that came to mind.” He leans closer into you as well. “What’re you into?” His eyes flick to your lips and back up to your eyes.

“Hair pulling, biting, scratching, choking, spanking, call me babygirl or a good girl and I’m a goner. You?”

“Same, but call me Tommy or baby. Maybe daddy as well, depends how rough we’re going I guess.”

You put your glass back on the coffee table after finishing your wine, moving to straddle Tom’s lap. “Okay, Tommy, looks like we’re doing this.” You move in, testing the waters, eyes flickering between Tom’s and his lips. You can already feel the heat in your core and the wetness in your panties, your thin shorts barely protecting you from the feeling of Tom’s arousal in his grey sweats. He caves first, crashing his lips against yours and moving them oh so deliciously against your own. Your eyes instantly shut, your hands combing through his hair before gripping onto his brunette curls. Tom lets his empty bottle drop onto the sofa, long forgotten as his own hands move to your hips. His tongue experiments by licking your top lip, asking for entrance which you more than gladly grant him. Your tongue dances against his, your hips subconsciously grinding against his already hard cock. You let out a rough, breathy moan into his mouth, Tom’s hands moving to your ass, feeling the skin that your shorts don’t cover. He pulls back, panting and lips glossy and red.

“Your room or mine?”

“Whichever’s closest.” You kiss him again, letting out a slightly startled noise as he stands, picking you up. You wrap your legs around his waist, hands gripping onto his shoulders whilst his are gripping your ass. You peck his lips, kissing down his neck as he walks you to his room. It’s closest to the living room and nearest to the bathroom so it’s a win win for you. You open Tom’s door for him, he almost drops you when you do but luckily you grip back onto him, accidentally scratching his back. Tom lets out a hiss, but it’s not with pain, more so pleasure at the feeling of your nails digging into him. It makes him wonder how amazing your nails will feel scratching down his back while he’s fucking into you. He throws you on his bed, and you briefly note how clean and tidy his room is considering he’s so chaotic. Tom removes his (slightly damp with beer) shirt and is on top of you in an instant, his lips meeting yours again in a messy kiss, teeth and tongue in the mix. You wrap your legs around his waist, his hips grinding down into your own as your hands rake through his hair, tugging on tufts as you sloppily kiss. He pulls away, his lips moving down to your neck and nipping and sucking there. You let out a moan, your eyes rolling back as Tom’s mouth works wonders on you. Your hips buck up into his and his hand moves from the bed to your body, trailing down your neck and chest to the hem of your vest top, tugging on it as a signal for you to take it off. You listen, moving your arms down to the hem to rip your top off, Tom instantly moving down your body, his lips kissing your chest before his hand moves round to your back and unclasps your bra. He pulls it off you, his mouth making its way to your nipple as his eyes look up into yours. You scrunch your eyebrows in pleasure, biting your bottom lip as you moan lowly. You don’t even notice Tom’s hand trailing down your body until it reaches your clothed pussy, your hips instantly jerking up to meet his hand. A mixture of Tom’s tongue on your nipple and his fingers rubbing your clit through your shorts is giving you a feeling you’ve not felt in a while. Yes you’ve been getting yourself off but there’s something so different about someone else’s touch that feels so fucking amazing.

“Do you know how fucking hot you look in these shorts, baby? I’ve wanted to rip them off you all evening.” Tom moans out, he can feel your wetness through the material.

“Do it, then.” You smirk, but your breath is hoarse and raspy. You let out a gasp as Tom practically rips your shorts from your body, along with your underwear. He wastes no time moving down your body, lips leaving a wet trail of kisses on your scorching skin. Hiking your legs up so your feet are flat on the bed, he kisses your hips, then down your left thigh, as your hands make their way to his hair. Tom looks up into your eyes as he licks closer and closer to your wet pussy, his mouth hovering over you, causing you to grind your hips up in an attempt to meet his tongue. He finally ends the torturous teasing, gently licking his tongue through your folds and to your clit, you throw your head back and let out a soft ‘oh, fuck’. Tom’s fingers make their way up your body, gently teasing your nipple as his tongue massages your clit, your hips meeting his movements as you let out small, breathy moans.

“Fuck, Tom, fingers please,” your voice is broken and still raspy, but Tom makes eye contact with you again and the moan you let out is much louder than before. You throw your head back again, writhing against him.

“What do want, baby girl? Hm? Want my fingers inside you?” His breath is cool against your warm skin, his eyes searching for yours.

“Yes!” You attempt to buck your hips up again but Tom’s hands hold them in place.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, please, daddy!” Your voice is broken and your attempt to keep quiet is ineffective. Tom moves his right hand from your hip, his tongue returning back to your clit as he slowly pumps a finger into you, curling it up to reach your g spot. He has you writhing beneath him, adding another fingers stretching you out as his tongue laps at your clit, your hands grip his hair as you grind against his mouth, breathy moans escaping your lips. You bite your lip as your eyes roll to the back of your head, you figured Tom would be good in bed but, god, he was so much better than you expected.

“I’m close, Tommy,” he all but growls into your pussy at the nickname, fingers picking up speed as he sucks on your clit gently. One of your hands flies up to your face, biting down on your arm to stop yourself from letting out an extremely loud moan as you cum. Tom slows his movements, helping you ride out your high. He removes his fingers from you, looking into your eyes as he licks them clean. You bite your lip and let out a soft groan at the sight of him, pulling him up to you so you can kiss his lips, allowing your tongue to massage his. You can taste yourself on him, only making you moan into his mouth as you kiss. You pull on his sweats, pushing them down his thighs along w his boxers. Tom pulls them the rest of the way off and you roll onto him, pinning him to the bed with your thighs. Your lips never leaving his in a sloppy, wet, tipsy kiss. You’re overwhelmed by his senses, his hot skin, his sexy scent, his soft curls and the way his teeth occasionally nibble on your bottom lip. You start grinding your hips against Tom’s hard cock, his hands flying to your hips as you do so.

“You’re so fucking wet for me aren’t you, baby girl?” Tom growls against your lips, feeling your wetness on his skin.

You moan against his lips, nodding your head, “do you have a condom?”

“Yeah, bedside table, 2nd drawer down.” You reach over him to the nightstand, retrieving a condom, opening it with your teeth before rolling it onto Tom’s cock. Tom lets out a hiss at the contact, throwing his head back and panting as your hand moves up and down him, before you lift up and slide down onto his cock. His hands instantly grab onto your ass, nails digging into the skin as you find a pace, adjusting to his size. He was bigger than you were expecting but, fuck, did it feel good. You pick up the pace, hips moving up and down as Tom’s hand moves from your ass cheek to your clit, using his middle finger to circle the bundle of nerves. He’s grunting with each move you make, and your head falls back as you continue riding him. He moves his other hand off your ass and brings it back down in a harsh slap, your skin jiggling and a sharp moan escaping your lips. He smirks up at you, your body dropping forward, hands moving to rest by his head as you keep the movements of your hips. He slaps your ass again, massaging the red skin there as you bite your lip, looking into his eyes. You reach your right hand to around his throat, gently squeezing. Something snaps in Tom at that, planting his feet on the bed to get leverage to thrust up into you, fucking you from underneath, he grabs a handful of your hair and fastens the pace of his fingers on your clit.

“Fuck, Tommy!” You moan, trying to keep quiet but it’s hard when he’s fucking you so good, the arch in your back allowing him to go deeper, creating a delicious feeling. “I want you to fuck me from behind.” You’re panting and your voice is quiet but Tom hears you loud and clear.

“Fuck, love, you’re so hot,” he pulls out, rolling you over onto your front, your arms reaching in front of you, chest on the bed as your knees widen and your ass is in the air, Tom slaps your ass as he moves behind you, sliding his hard cock between your fold and collecting your wetness before he thrusts back into you.

“Shit, you’re such a good girl for me, aren’t you?” Another slap on your ass as he fucks into you, hands grabbing your hips for leverage.

“Yes, baby, keep fucking me like that!” You moan into the sheets. Tom reaches forward and grabs a fistful of your hair, pulling your back up against his torso, fucking up into you. His hand slides around to grip your throat as he continues fucking you, his lips leaving sloppy kisses on your neck and cheek. He nibbles on your ear lightly, your eyes rolling to the back of your head in pleasure. Tom’s other hand snakes it’s way around your waist down your body, his middle fingers circling your clit. Your head is resting on his shoulder, your hand coming round to pull on his hair as he continues fucking you, Tom’s grunts and groans right in your ear as his lips caress the skin there.

“So fuckin tight, baby, jesus,” Tom’s breath is hot on your neck leaving goosebumps all over your body as you moan at his words. “I want you to cum for me baby, can you do that?”

“Yes, Tommy, I’m so close,” you groan, but Tom pulls away completely. You’re shocked and disgruntled before you realise he’s throwing you on your back, spreading your thighs and thrusting back into you. You grab his shoulders, nails digging in as Tom fucks you, harder than before. Your moans are muffled by the skin of his shoulder, you bite down on his skin, sucking, most likely leaving a mark but you don’t care, too consumed with the fire in your stomach as your orgasm approaches.

“Rub my clit, please,” you breathe out, one of Tom’s hands moving from your thigh to between your legs, resuming his movements on your clit from before. He fucks you in a rhythm, your nails scratching down his back as he does so, Tom’s hair is falling in his face and tickling yours but you don’t care, he looks so hot like this, sweaty and panting above you. Your toes curl and your pussy clenches around him, his cock pounding into you, and it’s like nothing you’ve felt before.

“I’m gonna cum, Tommy!” You throw your head back, letting out a moan as Tom’s fingers rub your clit faster and he fucks you harder, his lips crashing against yours as you reach your high. Tom follows shortly after, sloppily thrusting into you as he cums in the condom. Tom collapses on top of you, your breathing steadying as you play with his hair. After a minute, he pulls out and discards of the condom, flopping onto the bed beside you, opening his arm to you so you can roll into his side.

“Well, that was ... wow,” you sigh contentedly. Your breathing is starting to slow down and a wave of exhaustion hits you. You rest your head on Tom’s bare chest, one of his fingers curling a piece of your hair around it.

“Oh, god yeah it was, something else.” He chuckles, pressing a light peck to your forehead.

“I should probably go to the bathroom then back to my room.” You sigh, you don’t want to move though. You’re absorbing Tom’s warmth and it feels so good. You roll off of his chest, pulling his t shirt from off the floor and sliding it on. Tom sits up as you go to collect your things, “you could stay in here tonight? I mean, sex isn’t the only thing I miss.” His face is flush and he smiles sheepishly at you. You smile back and bite your lip, leaning back onto the bed to peck his nose before heading off to the bathroom. Tom thinks you’ve gone to bed, sighing in defeat and flopping back against his sheets. You go to clean up, making your way back to Tom’s room but not before grabbing another 2 bottles of beer first. You return to his room, smiling as you hand him a bottle. He laughs at you as he opens his beer, taking a sip before opening his arms to you, inviting you to sit with him on his bed. He’s got his boxers back on, duvet loosely wrapped around his hips, shifting while he moves. You sit back on the bed with him, taking a sip of your own beer. You both laugh and chat until you finish your drinks, lying down again and falling sleep curled up in Tom’s arms, his hand gently massaging your scalp as he places occasional pecks on your forehead. You realise that maybe this won’t be the last time as you drift off into a peaceful sleep.

#tom holland #tom holland smut #tom holland fic #tom holland x reader #tom holland oneshot #tom holland fanfic #tom holland imagine #also this isnt proofread lol #daddy!tom is a ducking loos tho

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shiversdownyerspine · 4 years ago

Text

5. Deprived

Gettin a little hot in here. :B

18+

The kittens arrive in the quiet of the night, stars dotting the deep dark blanket of sky. Sleep had failed to find you, and so you had shuffled your pajama-clad way to your kitchen with a chunky knit blanket wrapped around your chilly shoulders. The thick charcoal colored material dangles to the backs of your knees as you wait impatiently for your kettle to boil water for a big cup of chamomile tea.

As the water softly bubbles to your earnest desires of being lured to sleep, you find yourself distracted by a soft knock on your front door. You perk up, knowing by experience that this would be your nameless, faceless animal transporter. And just like with every other task animal, when you open the door you find nobody in sight, just a randomly sized pet kennel resting on your doorstep. You kneel and scoop up the crate to bring it inside.

Excitement momentarily stealing away your drowsiness, you quickly switch off the heat of your stove and carry your cargo to your room. Tea can wait a moment, the water will still be plenty hot by the time you're done. Closing the door behind you, you take a quick peek to find two fuzzballs huddled together at the back of the crate. The kittens are awake but clearly tired, and judging from their quivering bodies, probably a little bit stressed. Not wanting to cause more discomfort, you quietly unlock the kennel door to slowly reach in and gather them up for a quick health check.

Eyes, ears, and noses look clear and healthy, tiny claws and whiskers and tails are where they should be, no bumps or scratches to be seen. You briefly tut at the lack of towel or blanket in their kennel, worried about the absence of warmth and comfort. You've tried requesting some basic amenities for when your task animals are being prepared for delivery, but your needs have yet to be met. You're fairly certain by now that they never will be.

Both kittens are male and look to be around seven weeks old, still a bit too young to be neutered. As a matter of fact, they are still too young to be away from their mother, but some things just can't be helped. Judging by the pale bodies and dark brown coloration of their ears, face, tails, and paws, they are chocolate points. Satisfied, you pop the babies back inside and grab up the fluffy towel waiting on your dresser, carefully pushing it in and around the kittens before moving them to your bathroom.

Nestling their kennel in the corner of their 'room', you drape another blanket over them to offer privacy and leave the crate door open a crack for if they choose to explore. Softly closing the door to your bathroom, you head out of your bedroom and step once more to your kitchen to finally fix your mug of tea. Hot drink in hand, your gaze settles on the stove clock which reads 4:57 AM. With a sigh, you sip your tea and tug your blanket further up your shoulder, lamenting the lack of sleep you will be suffering from come morning. You suppose in the end you'll just have to rely on good ol' fashioned coffee to offer you any sort of alertness today. Resigned, you wander off to your bedroom, but are interrupted before you can make it there.

Midstep, you nearly drop your mug when the door to your guest room opens and there in the doorway stands a groggy, long john wearing Otto. Long hair ruffled and eyes half-lidded, he peers down at you questioningly. You freeze, your eyes sweeping up and down over his defined muscles before a blush rises to your cheeks and you drop your gaze to your feet, murmuring an apology for waking him and quickly explaining away the disrupted sleep because of the kittens arrival. You apologize once more and quickly scurry to your room as a befuddled Otto looks on, wondering why you had been up long before the kittens arrived.

Three cups of coffee in, the morning comes and goes relatively uneventfully. You do have to insist to an avidly interested Oscar that he wait just a little while longer to meet the kittens as they are still waking up and quite uncertain about their new home. You promise after their breakfast he can visit, lightly patting the grumbling man's back in reply as his brothers drink their coffee. With kitten food in hand, you hope this will help coax the babies out of their kennel. You amusedly eye Butternut and Pumpkin who are crowded around the door to your room, smelling intently.

You nudge them away with a hum of, "In due time you goofs."

To your delight the kittens perk up noticeably after feeding, and after some consideration you poke your head out your room to softly call for anyone interested to come see. As long as they keep the other cats out, that is. Oscar is naturally the first one up out of his chair while Axel and Otto hesitate before joining their younger sibling. They were simply bored, but they did have some interest in the mystery surrounding you and thereby extending to your room as well.

You tell the brothers to mind their feet before noticing Otto subtly eyeing your odd assortment of bits and bobs you have collected in a small jewelry box that had long since lost its shine and its lid. As Oscar and Axel carefully slip into the bathroom, they linger to watch you curiously from the doorway as you step to Otto to reach in your treasure box.

"I'm a bit of a collector, if something has a good texture and makes an impression, I tend to keep it."

An old bullet casing brushes your searching fingertips; you hold up the item for Otto to take, which he does, warm fingers brushing against your own slender digits. He rolls the hollow shell between thumb and forefinger as he inspects it closely. Perusing your other little knickknacks, you muse aloud how you never really plan to do anything with the trinkets, just allow yourself to indulge in an odd whim every once in a while.

Hearing the squeaky inquisitive sounds from the kennel in your bathroom, you and your little entourage find your attentions being redirected. With a gentle bump of your knuckles against Otto's wrist, you motion to follow you. Behind you the man's eyes drag up and down your figure in a surreptitious slide, settling minutely on the full curve of your rear before forcing himself to focus instead on the little jewelry box as he returns the tiny article to its rightful place.

With curiosity sated and more information shared about the tiny fuzzy additions to your home, you usher your guests out of your room as the kittens settle in for a much needed nap. You're tempted to follow their lead and crash on your bed, but you have a couple more things to do. One task being to introduce the towel you had rubbed the two kittens down with to your cats as a pseudo meeting. The Swedes watch in the living room from the sofa as Pumpkin takes a whiff, fluffs up, and slinks away while Butternut just plops herself down next to the towel like it's the most interesting thing she's ever smelled.

The other task? Well, technically you owe Axel and his brothers a tidbit of information after you refused to answer a question about your feathers during his 'interrogation'. And as you admit to the Swedes that you owe them some extra information, Oscar jumps right in.

"What is...favorite animal..no..task animal?"...It's technically against the rules, but it's a good question so you'll allow it.

Excited, you gush, "My pekin duck! Now, I love all my animals, but being my very first task, she's special. Most likely she was going to be prepared for food but the target never made it to dinner. She was wild-caught so it wasn't difficult to rehabilitate and release her. Good thing the woods have a lake. Well, more of a glorified pond really, but she loves it."

Axel side-eyes you slyly, "Duck makes good meal, shame."

You gasp, "No!..Well okay, probably, but I could never eat Ducky!"

Simultaneously, Axel's brows lifted high, Otto choked, and Oscar gasped, "Ducky?! Her name?"

You hesitate, ears red, before exclaiming proudly, "Yes, Ducky. Ducky the Pekin duck...come on this shouldn't surprise you, I named my cats after squash! Don't you dare laugh!"

Otto was roughly huffing into his fist as you floundered. Oscar had shifted closer to you with a wide grin, bumping his knee against yours.

Axel smirked, teasingly sounding out the two syllables, "Duck-y..."

The glare you send his way is intended to be irritated, but is quickly ruined by your twitching lips fighting back a smile.

"I-It's a childhood thing! I couldn't bring myself to call her anything else!" You rub your cheeks, as if that would somehow lift the vivid color from your face.

"The lake by our orphanage had a variety of birds, and every single one in that water was Ducky. I was too young to really care about the differences. Also it drove our poor caretaker crazy, which ah...kind of enforced the habit."

Your mirth falters as you process your little slip up...that's what your lack of sleep gets you, you suppose. Okay, no use fretting. Push on.

"So when I saw my first animal, her name was already decided really." You smooth the material of the towel in your hands, relaxing your posture.

"Chickens." You blink, looking quizzically to Axel. He nods towards Oscar.

Otto shifts his weight from one leg to the other, hands tugging his suspenders as he adds, "Chicken thief."

Your gaze settles on the youngest Swede with a playful gasp, "Oscar, really?"

The man meets your feigned incredulity with his ever-wicked smirk and declares with devilish pride, "Salt and Peppar."

It clicks, "...You named them after seasoning. Because you were going to eat them?"

Axel drags his eyes from Oscar to you, "Eventually."

You can't help but giggle, the three men twitching at the sound, "So, when you were younger you stole chickens? Wait wait, I'm going to guess...it wasn't just Oscar..and he roped you two into it?"

Oscar barks a laugh as the other two sigh and nod. You grin, "Goodness, chicken thieves in my home. Did you all get caught?"

Smug, Oscar shook his head as Otto responded, "Nej. Too fast. We...kept for eggs, ate later...old age."

You bump your elbow gently against Oscar's arm, immediately drawing his attention to you, "I've never had chickens before, but my old Ducky does have a bit of an attitude. How were Salt and Peppar?"

Axel snorts, leaning forward, "Angry. Not bad killing mice. Also good flavor."

Otto folds his arms across his chest, nodding in agreement. You chuckle, "Okay if any of you see Ducky, you can't eat her. It's just not allowed."

Still staring, Oscar licks his lips, "..Can we eat you?"

Axel and Otto tense, eyes boring holes into the scoundrel. You scoff, completely missing the lewd innuendo, "Oh ha ha clever; I have feathers, like poultry. Very funny."

You stand with a smile, realizing you should really grab some kind of food mat for the messy eaters resting in your bathroom before lunch time rolls around. You retreat to the kitchen to search while the brothers linger in the living room, staring Oscar down. Butternut in his arms, the youngest removes himself from the floor just to lazily stretch out on the sofa, innocent as can be as he ignores his brothers obvious ire. Pumpkin slips out from under the coffee table to hop up and settle on his stomach in classic cat-loaf position.

Axel begrudgingly turns his attention to you, recalling your cheeky attitude and fiery stubbornness concerning his prior questions in the kitchen a good while ago...yes, he won't deny how heat had pooled in his loins at your antics, bubbling even more when he glimpsed charming pink shyly sweep between your lips. But obviously it wasn't enough to tempt him; no, he didn't imagine himself seated at that very same chair, boots planted firmly on the kitchen floor as his hands squeeze your rear, bouncing you naked in his lap, fucking the defiance out of you as you moan and beg and promise you'll be good- he sucks in a breath, nostrils flaring. Taking a moment to reign in his hormones, he stalks off to the garden for fresh air, scowling all the while. Oscar.

Otto grimaces at Oscar's impertinence and clenches his hands, hesitating as remorse unsettles his stomach as he remembers the feel of you, your back against his front, his hands holding your body helpless and trembling with distress...and wonders instead about making you shake with something else; smoothing his hands over soft fabric to push under your sweater and up quivering belly to gently palm your breasts, pushing fabric away to bare them to his touch, fingers brushing your nipples, lightly pinching and plucking as your head lolls back, your hips rolling to push your ass against him- he exhales, trousers feeling just a tad uncomfortable. With a rough swallow, he lumbers off down the hallway to their room to...regain his composure. Fucking Oscar.

Oscar knows damn well what he's done. He's noticed the way his brothers' eyes linger on you, their growing infatuation not nearly as hidden as they thought. At least not from each other. Now they won't be able to get some rather debauched ideas out of their heads; just like he can't get rid of the thought of your pretty startled eyes blinking up at him, but instead of up, you're peering down, doe-eyed as he moves down your body and between spread legs, preparing to demonstrate the actual meaning of his joke as his hungry mouth hovers teasingly over your panties, just close enough that he can smell you as the heat of his breath warms the dampening fabric.

Oscar strains his neck to sneak a glance at you in the kitchen, adoration softening his expression as he hears your joyful exclamation when you track down the food mat for the kittens. It's possible you were just doing your hostly duties, but they all notice how you blossom as you accept their presence and he and his brothers gradually accept yours. He has no doubt his brothers are subconsciously beginning to consider you theirs; he saw with his own incredulous eyes as big, brutish Otto held you still, firm but careful, not a single feather crushed under fist...or how Axel, steely, stern Axel, was opening up to you about their own lives, tiny piece that it was. He had almost been stunned into silence with that one.

The thought of you in their beds had been just that; a tempting thought, conjured by night and temporarily sated come morning. But seeing his brothers' walls cracking, little by little? How curious. He can't resist giving his stubborn brothers a little push, jostling their imaginations, maybe some taunting thrown in to strain those cracks?...oh, this will be fucking fun.

#the swedes #ikea mafia #tua swedes #the swedes x reader #umbrella academy swedes #tua axel #tua otto #tua oscar #...sleep deprived and sex deprived ;D

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leftonraed · 4 years ago

Text

The Night We Met - Episode 2

pairing : Taehyung x OC genre : bodyguard!au, singleparent!au, idol!au word count : 2.5k summary — You witness Taehyung and his niece’s relationship evolve and meet Hwiin.

Prologue | ep.1 | ep.2 | ep.3 | ep.4 | ep.5 | ep.6 | ep.7

The sun shines brightly this morning, even birds can be heard in the quiet apartment. Taehyung rolls over in his sleep and suddenly crashes on the floor in a heavy thud.

“Ow… What the-” He grumbles loudly, squinting an eye open to make sense of his surroundings right after the brutal awakening.

He slowly lifts himself on his hands and knees to look at the bed and notices Hina had invaded his already quite small part, they had agreed on, in her sleep.

“What even is that position?” He mumbles, now able to make her out in the dark room. Her tiny feet facing him as they twitch a little. Surely the way used to get rid of me, he thinks.

Taehyung stands up cautiously like an old person, massaging his hurting shoulder. His limbs are stiff and heavy with slumber but he resists the temptation of the warm sheets to get breakfast ready.

After a quick passage in the bathroom to freshen up, he walks in the kitchen and has the water in the kettle heating first. Music’s playing very softly from his phone while he prepares food consisting of soups, cooked rice, strawberries and other side dishes.

He’s busy setting the table when he hears noise coming from the dark corridor.

He looks up and stills, feeling his heartbeat picking up. The chopsticks slip from his hand at the scary sight before him.

A weird looking shape is carefully walking his way, wrapped in what he guesses as a thick blanket rendering the strange creature menacingly imposing.

Taehyung blinks his daze away as it comes to light.

“Oh,_____. Good morning,” he smiles lightheartedly. “I didn’t recognize you.”

You mutter something back, walking by him like he isn’t even there and head to the kitchen counter. He watches you reach for his cup.

“Wait, this i-”

You spit out the bittersweet drink, disgusted. “That’s not coffee,” you grunts confused.

“That’s a tea I make for my voice-” He trails, looking at the mess you’ve just made. He smiles again, “don’t worry I’ll clean that.”

“Bkjhn- coffee- skjvnjf- wait here.” You go sit on the nearest couch.

He stops mid-mopping to object but indirectly meets the threatening look of the scary blanket creature and simply nods.

Hina shows up a little after, hair sticking everywhere, and observes for a long time the interesting sight you offer.

When Taehyung eventually puts the lovingly prepared breakfast on the coffee table, he realises another blanket creature has made its appearance, looking quite adorable he must say.

_____________________________

Taehyung goes to answer the door when the doorbell rings.

Hwiin instantly meets his eyes, noticing right away how good-looking his complexion is. He looks rested and not so despondent anymore.

He smiles softly, “come in, don’t stay out there.”

She’s glad and for a second, she feels her heart warming up at his familiar appeal.

She snaps out of it and walks inside. It’s only been a week or so since her latest visit but his apartment looks nothing like before apart from the loud T.V.

Although the least that had to be shared had been summed up in an official announcement by the agency to explain Taehyung’s temporary retirement, they had all agreed on not wanting any media to share anything concerning directly or indirectly his brother’s death and keep a very low profile regarding Taehyung having Hina’s custody for as long as possible. This meant not to be seen out together, not to tempt any ill-intentioned stranger.

She trips on one of the toys laying around and catches herself by grabbing hold of his arm.

He doesn’t note the effect the sudden closeness has on her and bends down to take the toy away. He grunts, “sorry ‘bout the mess.”

She smiles awkwardly to herself while taking off her beanie and scarf when you eventually catch her eye.

“Who’s that?”

Taehyung glances your way in the living-room where you’re busy doing your fitness routine with Hina gazing at you closely and it pulls a grin from him.

“_______. Seojun’s replacement… Your savior.”

Hwiin stares at you too long for her own liking before turning around to frown at him. “What happened to him?”

“Family stuff.” He walks around the counter and takes a cup to pour some tea for her as he always does when she visits.

“And she lives here? With you?”

“I thought it’d be practical because I don’t really know what my schedule is these days. And she’s just moved to the city.”

She drops her handbag on the counter and sits on one of the stools. She lets the warmth of the cup heat her cold palms and waits for him to look away to get another glimpse at you that unintentionally turns into a subtle glare.

She can’t help but start to make assumptions about you while you’re stretching your fit body.

“She’s really into exercising,” she gets startled by his voice and can hear his grin and it makes her eyes roll. She turns back again. “I don’t know how she keeps doing that every morning.”

“Is that even… appropriate?” She trails, seeing a mental image of your revealing outfit. “I mean her living here doesn’t allow her to be unprofessional.”

He frowns a little at her, amused. If only she knew, he thinks. “I don’t really mind. Plus, if she can help keep Hina from turning into a couch potato...”

She remains silent and sips on her hot beverage as he tries to quickly change the subject.

“I’m almost done with the custody papers by the way. So we should get back to work in a short while.”

“It’s good to hear. The agency shared a couple of things about your activity for the next few weeks but nothing’s final.” She hesitates, “but are you… ready-ready?”

“I think I am. M’definitely in a better place. I think _____ helps a lot. She’s a breath of fresh air. And I think work will help me get out of my head.”

“Good.” Hwiin smiles half hearted.

“Oh, I think she’s done. Come, I’ll do the introductions.”

______________________________

The next day, Hwiin is back at the apartment with work papers and her laptop in her arms — now that Taehyung’s comeback is around the corner, she doesn’t want to waste any time. She frowns when she doesn’t recognize his voice behind the door.

“What was it again…” She hears mumbling followed by numerous electronic bips. The door unlocks and reveals yourself when you pull it back.

You stare blankly at her, a lollipop wedged against your cheek. “Yes?”

Hwiin doesn’t know what to say and frowns when you’re still not moving an inch. “Can I come in?”

“Who are you?” You ask right after.

“What do you mean “who am I”? We met yesterday.” She complains dumbfounded. “It’s me. Hwiin.”

She hears footsteps coming her way and you slam the door right before she gets to see anything.

“No, Hina. Go back,” she hears you order. “This is probably an intruder or a dangerous person.”

“What?” She exclaims to herself, an angry look directed at the door. “Let me in.”

“I can’t. I’m sorry.”

“Where’s Taehyung?”

“He’s out.”

“What in the-” She mumbles to herself, fetching her phone in her purse very annoyed. She thumbs on his phone. “Taehyung, yes. Can you please tell your bodyguard that I’m not a threat and to let me in? Stop laughing!”

“Yes?” You answer again when she knocks.

“I have your boss on the phone, maybe he’ll convince you if you agree to speak to him.”

You open the door wide enough to take the device from her and close it again. Hwiin is tapping her foot impatiently. You eventually let her in and she snatches her phone from you while you stare at her with an unbothered look, still sucking your candy.

_______________________________

Later that day, dinner’s served.

“You shouldn’t force her,” you comment from your position at the end of the dining table.

Taehyung hasn’t had a moment to himself the second he’s come back from his running errands, from the long hours he’s spent with his manager to get updated to preparing dinner, and it didn’t take long for you to understand cooking isn’t his forte. You’re now witnessing his struggle to have Hina eat any of the food to no avail.

The little girl seems intent on draining him from the last remnant of energy left in his being. Taehyung wonders how he’d be able to put up with her when he goes back to working.

She refuses each of his attempts, twisting her neck one side or the other. This time around, he’s made sure not to have the plate too close to her so she wouldn't dirty him.

“She has to eat,” he mumbles, keeping his eyes on his niece. “Come on, open your mouth.”

She kicks her legs the whinier his voice gets. When the spoon isn’t prodding her lips, she stretches her arms towards the plate in his hand.

“No hands.” He warns and moves the plate closer to him which has her writhing in her seat out of irritation.

The bubble gum bursts softly and shrivels on your lips. Face prompted in your palms, a thought crosses your mind. “Why don’t you let her use her hands?”

“I don’t want her to pick up some bad habits.”

You blink blankly at his profile. It’s obvious he’s getting tired but he only gets himself to blame.

“Just let her this one time,” you encourage.

Defeated, Taehyung unwillingly listens to you, positioning the plate on the table of the baby chair and her whimpers immediately stop.

“See? She just wants to feed herself, silly.”

Hina looks up to frown at him, points a tiny finger in his direction and repeats with a pout, “siwy!”

A silence falls right after, during which he stares at her, dumbfounded.

The spoon slips from his fingers. She uses her hand to grab the square-cutted vegetables from her plate. A glint of amusement wrinkles your eyes the longer you watch him.

“Hina! You just said your first word!” Taehyung exclaims at the little girl looking up with big round eyes, confused, and busy stuffing her small mouth.

You pinch your lips to stop yourself from smiling.

He flinches the next second and frowns at her, “wait, you shouldn’t call me that.”

He looks at you when he hears you giggle and falters a quick second. Taken aback by the pleasant sound, he realizes it’s his first time he sees you laugh. He likes hearing it.

He quickly goes back to scolding mode, “what are you laughing at? It’s your fault she did that.”

“I did nothing,” you trail, calming down and not feeling a bit regretful.

“Siwy!”

He whines flustered, “Hina, stop calling me that!”

________________________

You knew nothing about their relationship, except that he was her uncle and she lost her father. Right after Taehyung welcomed you in his home, you didn’t talk if you weren’t spoken to and simply lingered around when needed. You preferred to keep to yourself and not meddle but Taehyung seemed to lack when it comes to raising children or even just one.

He acts like he wants to succeed in everything and would feel miserable every time he’d think he failed. You have been hired to protect Hina if she needs to be out in his company but you also naturally want to assist and support him in your own way. After all, no one’s around to help and it’s not like Hwiin and Hina share affectionate bonds.

Taehyung’s watching T.V when you walk back in the living-room with his niece after her shower. Her refusal when he suggested he’d take care of it surprised him but he trusted you enough to let her have it her way. The little victorious smile you offered him left him flustered right after you’d closed the door in his face not to give him any time to react. He had no choice but to go rest and wait.

His eyes carefully rake your figure dressed in short shorts and a tight-fitted tank top from head to toe. He notices your hair’s wet and your braless breast and he blushes when mental pictures suddenly flood his mind.

Hina breaks his trail of embarrassing thought as she bounces her way and lunges on his lap, the flowery scent coming from her envelops him. She seems a lot more open around him already.

“You not tired, you?” He smiles lazily while she tries to climb in his lap. She shakes her head.

You go sit on the couch perpendicular to the one he’s sat on.

“Ow, ow,” his whimpers have you looking back at him. “You’re hurting me, Hina. Why are you so hyped right now? You're supposed to be in bed at this hour.”

He can’t help but feel a little confused having to put up with Hina’s unfamiliar behavior and your arousing presence.

Amused, you gaze at her pulling on his shirt to help herself stand up on his thighs and pinch his face as she whines her objection. You look away before he realizes you’re watching them.

It takes no more than ten minutes for her to show the first signs of somnolence. He lays her in his arms and stands up.

“Let’s put you to bed.”

She knuckles her eyes, “no- daddy…”

He looks panicked for a second and dares a quick glance your way but it seems like you haven’t heard her so he keeps walking to his bedroom.

Hina falls asleep a couple of minutes after he’s tucked her in. Taehyung isn’t sure about returning to the living-room. He’s come to enjoy being in your company but is afraid about you noticing the effect you have on him.

The lights and T.V are still on when he comes back and you’re still there but you’ve moved closer to his seat and laid on one side. He walks around the couch to sit near the armchair. He’s barely returned that he starts tapping the tips of his fingernails, thinking of a way to make conversation.

“She already asleep?” You yawn.

“Like a log,” he smiles and then there’s silence. “I’m happy, she is more comfortable but-”

“But?”

“I don’t know about her... calling me-”

“Don’t worry about it,” you cut him off sleepily and he looks at you. “Let her if she feels like doing so. Do you mind her doing it?”

“I don’t really know. I mean she’s like a daughter to me but I don't want her to forget about her dad.”

“She won’t. When she starts asking you, tell her. But for now, I think it’s best you just bring the love and comfort she needs. She needs familiarity in these times. She’ll make her own decision when she’s older. Much older. Give yourselves time. You’ll get even closer.”

“But my job will keep me from her.”

“Then make some time. From what I understood, you don’t want anyone to babysit and you’ll never get the life you had before. You have to find time if you want her to get close to you.” You meet his eyes. “And you should enjoy your moments together. Not torture yourself about the- “right” thing to do… because it doesn’t exist. You’re doing good.”

Taehyung thinks about your words but hasn’t quite the time to process them as you stand up and stretch.

“I feel sleepy…” You yawn. “Goodnight, Taehyung.”

“Goodnight.”

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Feedback is much appreciated Reblog if you wish to read more

#taehyung scenarios #bts scenarios #taehyung smut #bts smut #taehyung angst #bts angst #taehyung fluff #bts fluff #taehyung x reader #taehyung x y/n #Taehyung x oc #bts imagines #bts reactions

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xomarauders · 4 years ago

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ever since I read that line in Order of the Phoenix where Ginny says “Excuse me, but I care what happens to Sirius as much as you do!" (ch. 33) I have created many head canons of them being pals.

here is an example of one of those moments <3

tw: implied PTSD

The house was more ominous at night. Almost as if all the dark magic they worked so hard to get rid of during the day was seeping out of the dusty walls, vibrating in the air, and making one’s skin tingle. Ginny lie awake, not because of the house and its horrors but because of her own mind and the demons that have remained there since she was eleven. She squeezes her eyes shut, willing herself to go to sleep, but the moment her eyelids close together she sees his face. She hears his synthetically understanding voice as she remembers how she bore her young, naïve heart out to in a cursed journal that she would never truly be rid of. Her eyes snapped back open and she lets out a slow, but shaky breath, afraid she might wake Hermione, who was fast asleep next to her, apparently oblivious to the darkness swimming around them and inside of Ginny’s head.

It is unsurprising that Sirius hates this place. She did not understand why Dumbledore made him come back here, but her mother constantly reminded her to not question the headmaster’s judgement and so Ginny said nothing. She exchanged looks with Lupin at the dinner table, a mutual concern seemingly running between them, but she never spoke. It was not her place to.

During the day it was easier to be in the house. Fred and George were a great distraction, even Sirius with his ever-declining mental state seemed to perk up whenever the twins pulled pranks and got on their mother’s nerves—which really was not all that hard to do. Sometimes, though, it was tense in the house. Order meetings were becoming more frequent—they were planning on brining Harry soon—and the news shared amongst members was rarely good. Ginny was unable to attend the meetings, of course, but from what she heard from Lupin and Bill’s mumblings at dinner and the information she was able to persuade Tonks to share, she knew things were not in their favor.

A small meow at the foot of the bed suddenly made her jump. She sat up, her long, red hair flying forward with the motion, to see Crookshanks stretching and finding himself a more comfortable position to sleep. Ginny rolls her eyes, glancing down at Hermione to see that she was still asleep—she was. Unable to entertain the idea of rest anymore, Ginny shoves the blankets off of her and sneaks out of the room, careful to step over the creaky floorboard George had pointed out to her earlier as she wandered into the hallway.

It was cold, and Ginny mentally scolded herself for not thinking to grab her jumper. She folds her arms, attempting to preserve her body heat and continues to travel down the hallway and down the long staircase. This house was too big, she thought, as she passed rooms that have probably been locked for years, rooms that were being used for nothing but to hold deep, dark, pureblood secrets.

One door was open, though. One Ginny had never been in, one she was probably not allowed to be in. Still, she was Fred and George’s sister which meant she had curiosity coursing through her veins, and so she pushed the door open wider and stepped inside. There was a huge green rug in the middle of the room with silvery designs running across it. A mahogany desk was settled in the center of it, thick layer of dusk and cobwebs covering it and the various objects sitting upon it. There were several books, a few ornate decorations, and some gaudy candlesticks. Crooked photographs hung on the wall, pictures of unsmiling people with charcoal eyes. Ginny scrunched up her nose—Kreacher has obviously neglected his duties to clean this room, much like the rest of the house. She wonders if anyone else has discovered this space.

“You know, this house isn’t exactly one you should be wandering about in at night.”

Ginny whips around, her heart leaping into her throat for a moment before realizing it was just Sirius. He was standing in the doorway, his shoulder resting against the frame, a somber look on his face. The clothes he was wearing seemed to drown him, his body still extremely thin after all those years in Azkaban. The hair on his head had been tied up in a knot on his head, wand pocking out the side of it.

“Sorry.” Ginny says after she remembers how to breathe. “I couldn’t sleep.”

Sirius shrugs. “Neither could I. Would you like some tea? I was going to make some.”

Ginny nods, following him out of the room and down into the kitchen. They are both silent, taking comfort in one another’s presence but unwilling to discuss just what nightmares had been keeping them up. Ginny sits down patiently as Sirius begins to make the tea, his hands shaking slightly as he goes about it. She doesn’t mention it. It was a bit funny to her that Sirius made tea the muggle way, warming the water with a kettle and allowing it to steep for several moments. For as impatient as he was, he seemed to take his time with tea.

“Thank you.” She says once he puts a cup in front of her. He offers her a tight smile and sits across from her. Again, it is quiet, but the darkness that was earlier overwhelming Ginny seemed to be drifting away, leaving her feeling something close to content.

“Remus’ mother taught me how to make tea.” Sirius says, staring down at his cup. “It was the summer just before…seventh year? I had been living with James for some time at that point, so it must have been. We decided to take a trip to Wales to visit Moony. Their house was so hidden, tucked away from the rest of the town. It was safer that way, I suppose. For Remus. Anyway, I had woken up early, before the rest of the lads. Nightmares were still a common occurrence for me and so I snuck downstairs in an attempt to not bother anyone. Hope was already up. I was surprised, the sun hadn’t even started to rise, but she was sitting there at the small, wooden table reading some muggle novel. I remember she smiled at me and offered to make tea. She didn’t even question why I was up. She just offered tea. So, I said yes, even though it felt like I wouldn’t be able to stomach anything. And she made tea. It became sort of routine during the week we stayed. I would wake up in the early hours of the morning and Hope would be sitting in the kitchen, waiting for me. When it got down to the last few days, she showed me how to do it myself. It was calming, doing all the steps instead of rushing the process like us wizards like to do with so much. Even after we left the Lupin’s home, I would still wake up with nightmares and make Hope’s tea.”

Sirius looked up. “I still don’t know why the dementors didn’t take that memory from me. Maybe because of the nightmares that preceded it. Either way, I’m glad that Hope Lupin remains untainted in my mind.” He smiles slightly and Ginny grins back.

“She sounds like professor Lupin. I found myself having tea in his classroom many times when he was at Hogwarts.” Ginny shrugs. “I have nightmares, too. I think he might have known.”

Sirius hums, a soft look appearing on his face. “He tends to know those sorts of things.”

Ginny was unsure what the whole situation was with Sirius and Lupin. She knew they were close, that there was some sort of history there, something that likely went beyond friendship, but she never asked about it. It was apparent to see, though, in the ways that Lupin could calm Sirius unlike anyone else and the lingering looks they exchanged as well as the gentle touches they gave one another. She wondered if they would ever be able to recover what they once had in full force instead of dancing around one another with hesitancy. Maybe one day when the war ended they would be able to find some sort of peace with one another.

“Are you ever afraid it will never end?” Ginny finds herself whispering. Thinking about the war caused an ache in her chest, one she was afraid would become chronic as time went on.

“Mm, I suppose.” Sirius replied grimly. “Not so much that the war will not end, eventually it must. I’m more scared of what we will lose in the process.”

He was thinking about Harry. She knew he was thinking about Harry because that’s who she was thinking of. The whole fate of the world seemed to fall upon Harry Potter’s shoulders and Ginny feared that there was nothing she could do to protect him from it all. She wishes she could just take him away somewhere to hide, to wait for everything to blow over, but she knew Harry would never agree. He cared too much about everyone else even if they did not care about him in return. It was his fatal flaw, but she supposed that’s why destiny or fate or whatever decided to do this to him.

Ginny shifted slightly in her seat. The idea of losing Harry was one that haunted her mind almost as often as Tom Riddle did. He had become such a symbol of hope for her, a hero that had rescued her in the chamber of secrets but also as a friend who never saw her as the victim. Someone who she could banter with and laugh with. Someone who acknowledged her strength and was not intimidated by it like so many other boys she had dated. Harry was always the one in her mind, no matter how much she tried to get over him. She could imagine spending the rest of her life with him, despite how silly that sounded to say as a fourteen-year-old girl. Which is why losing him scared her so much.

“He’ll be okay, won’t he?” Ginny asked. Sirius looked up, his face looking wearier than she had ever seen, a hollow look in his silver eyes, as if his mind were somewhere else.

“Yeah,” Sirius said. “Yeah, he will be.”

Doubt lingered in the air like some poisonous fog that threatened to suffocate them, much like the rest of the evils within the house. Ginny almost wished for it, and that thought horrified her more than anything. It was too dark, too much like the thoughts she had when Tom Riddle was corrupting her mind. She took a long sip of her tea as a distraction, the heat of it scalding her throat as she did so. Her hands were quivering as she set the cup down and she tried to hide it as best she could, but Sirius noticed.

“I am definitely not as good as Remus when it comes to…expressing concern and offering counsel” he began tentatively, “but, I can listen. If you would like to talk about it. Whatever it is that is keeping you up.”

Ginny looked up him, at the kind but awkward smile he had plastered on his face and thought for a moment that Sirius was the best person she could come to with this. His mind had been toyed with for years by those vile dementors, so, if anyone could understand the feeling of losing their mind, it was him.

“My first year at Hogwarts, I was possessed by Tom Riddle.” She states bluntly. Sirius does not flinch. “Sometimes, especially at night, I can still hear him in my head. Telling me to…do things. To hurt people. It frightens me. I worry that he’s still there, that somehow he has been taking shelter in my mind waiting for the right opportunity to use me again. And so, I don’t sleep. If I don’t sleep, then he can’t take over my subconscious. He can’t control me. But it’s making me feel like I’m going insane. Makes me feel like, deep down, I am a terrible person.”

She exhales shakily. It feels nice, to say it out loud. Even if it sounds that much crazier to her, at least she did not have to hide it. Sirius remained silent, looking at her with an expression of thoughtfulness. He never seemed like the type to think before speaking, but maybe this was a special case. Maybe he did think she was crazy but didn’t want to tell her that straight out. Maybe professor Lupin had rubbed off on him.

“I get it. The feeling of going insane, I mean. And, though I’ve never been possessed, I have been under the imperious curse, so I can understand not having control of yourself. And it is terrifying, Ginny, you don’t have to pretend it doesn’t scare you. Voldemort isn’t possessing you, not anymore. And you know that. But that doesn’t mean the fear automatically goes away. It’s going to take time.” He leans forward, resting his elbows against the table and looking her in the eye. “But, you have to know that you’re not a bad person. Everyone has their demons; everyone has light and dark inside of them. I came from a family of bloody pureblood supremacists; doesn’t mean I was destined to be one myself. It’s what you choose to be that matters.”

Ginny’s a bit surprised at the tears burning in her eyes and she bites down on her lip. “I’m just so tired, Sirius.”

“I know. I know.” He moves out his chair and swiftly makes it to the other side of the table, kneeling beside her and pulling her into his arms. She lets out a sob that she feels like she’s been holding for years as she grips the back of his robes, sobbing into his shoulder.

“Shh, it’s okay. It’s okay. I’ve got you.” Sirius whispers. “You’re okay. You’re going to be okay.”

She cries herself to sleep, waking in the morning to find herself tucked into yet another bed in some random room of the house. The sun was shining in through the window though and Ginny felt a flicker of ease and contentment rush through her. She sits up, feeling a warmth against her feet, and sees a giant, black dog resting at the foot of the bed. She smiles.

The house was more ominous at night, but the mornings didn’t seem so bad.

#ginny weasley #sirius black #remus lupin #wolfstar #harry potter #hinny #hermione granger #ron weasley #fred weasley #george weasley #nymphadora tonks #order of the phoenix #harry potter fanfiction #ginny weasley fanfic #ginny weasley angst #sirius black angst #sirius and ginny are pals #💭 by kat

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asphalt-cocktail · 4 years ago

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hii!! happy valentine’s day, sorry i’m so late lol. but earlier i was imagining this scenario: like the reader is out on a valentine’s date and her date never shows. so the reader is maybe feeling shitty about themselves,, but then one of the beatles boys (maybe john?? idk i’ve been loving him lately lol) comes and sits with the reader and they end up having a date together!! then i feel like when they’re taking the reader home it could either end up with some smut👀 or just them being all shy about seeing each other again lol. i hope you had a great valentine’s day!!! <3

Oh god this is like a whole two weeks late! But here we go friends!

Warnings: Some illusions to seamier things, angst, fluff, wine, language.

The restaurant was dimly lit creating a romantic atmosphere that was so in character for the well-known holiday. The man you’d been talking to for a few weeks had asked you on a date for Valentine’s day and naturally you jumped at the opportunity, excited for finally having a date and not spending the night alone.

You swirled the ice in your glass of water and sighed before checking your watch and glancing at the empty chair in front of you; forty-five minutes had passed since your date was allegedly supposed to begin.

Once you watch your watch tick to the one hour mark you felt your stomach nauseous which only increased as the waiter uncomfortably approached, “I’m sorry Ma’am but we have to give your table to our next reservation.” He began.

Your face felt hot with embarrassment, “Please just give me fifteen more minutes, he’ll be here soon.” You pleaded.

A look of annoyance flashed across the waiter’s face before it was quickly replaced with sympathy. You didn’t know which one made you feel more embarrassed, “Look miss, I’m sorry your date didn’t show up, but we are extremely busy today.” He tried to sound kind, but there was a desperate urgent tone of voice.

Your throat felt tight and your eyes began to sting as you picked up the coat you had borrowed from your mom and the purse you had picked out specially for the date. You brought your hand up and wiped away the tears that had begun to freely roll down your cheeks and sniffed as you pushed the chair in and turned to leave.

“I’m so sorry I’m late, love.” You felt a hand lightly touch the small of your back and stubble scratch at your cheek as someone placed a chaste kiss on the tear stained skin.

You turned and looked in shock, “John?” You asked in confusion.

John smiled down at you and kept his hand in place as he turned towards the waiter, “So sorry I’m late, I got holed up in the studio. You know how it is.” He joked and the waiter turned pale as a ghost.

“Of course, Mr. Lennon,” He stuttered out.

“Would you mind holding the table a bit longer? Just enough for us to eat?” John asked as he moved behind you and slid your jacket off and hung it on the back of the chair and pulled it out before motioning for you to sit.

You stared wide eyed at him and sat down with caution, “Of course, you can feel free to stay as long as you need.” The waiters voice echoed in the background, “Can I start you off with any beverages?”

John looked at you, “You like white wines, right darling?” He asked

You nodded your head, how did John know that?

“I suppose we’ll start off with a bottle of Riesling first and two waters.” John spoke casually as he moved around the table and took his jacket off before sitting down.

“Of course, I’ll bring that by right away along with menus.” The waiter scribbled down notes before quickly turning and walking back to the kitchen.

“What are you doing here?” You harshly whispered to John.

John shrugged his shoulders, “I was in the area I suppose.”

You let out a small scoff, “I thought you said you were spending the evening at a bar because you didn’t have use for corporate holidays?” You said quoting him from the earlier recording session.

John tried to hide the smile that threatened to break on his face “I was at the bar and then I moved to go to this bar and I saw you,” He looked away and cleared his throat, “Well, you know being asked to leave.” You looked away bashfully, “What happened to your date anyways?” He asked.

You shifted uncomfortably as he looked back up at you, “I don’t know, he didn’t come. Probably had better plans come up.” You sighed and leaned back in the chair.

John scoffed, “Well, what could be better than spending the evening with a lovely bird.” His tone was comforting and made your face heat up.

You used the cloth napkin to busy your hands and wipe the sticky remainder of tears from your face. John had a knack for saying flirtatious things since you’d started as a sound engineer for Abbey Road Studios and worked closely with George Martin. “I don’t know, I thought things were going well but then he just doesn’t show up on Valentine’s Day of all days.” You trailed off and felt your throat tighten up again with emotion.

John reached across the table and grabbed your hand where it rested, “Come on, let’s not worry about him right now. Just enjoy the dinner I’ll buy.” He smiled at you and rubbed the back of your hand with his thumb.

You moved your hand and laced with fingers with his and returned his soft smile, “You’re right, he was an ass anyways.” You managed a small laugh.

Within a few minutes the waiter had arrived with the bottle of wine John had suggested. The waiter popped open the cork and poured two glasses before handing them to you and John respectively.

John tutted his face in a snobbish manor before swirling the glass and sniffing it, “Hmmm,” He said mimicking a wine taster, “Smells like… Wine?” You grinned and let out a small laugh as John made a face at you and winked. John reached across the table and grabbed the bottle of wine before topping off the two glasses, “I always think they pour too little in the glasses,” John pointed out as he filled yours to the rim.

By the time your dinner was finished the two of you had finished the entire bottle. You wouldn’t go as far as saying you were drunk, but you felt the pleasant buzz of alcohol warm your skin. As you got up from your chair and readied yourself to leave John snatched your jacket as you reached for it and helped you put it on.

John wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you close as the two of you walked down the street. You hadn’t realized how late it was until you saw the emptiness outside. You shivered and laid your head on his shoulder briefly before catching yourself and pulling away. John’s hand slipped from your waist to your hand.

The two of you walked around with no destination and the cold February air stung your cheeks and you shivered, “It’s late, I should get home.” You said with a sad smile.

John looked down at you through narrow eyes, “Do you need me to call a cab?”

You looked around at your familiar surroundings, “I’m just a few blocks away actually, I can make the walk by myself.” You gave a nervous laugh, “I don’t want to take up any more of your time.”

“I’d be a bad date if I didn’t walk you home.” John teased.

You rolled your eyes, “You weren’t even supposed to be my date.” You paused and realized how it sounded, “Not that I’m not thankful, you really saved my ass.” You smiled bashfully.

John shrugged, “Come on love, let’s get you home.” He said and grabbed your hand once again.

As the two of you approached the lobby door to your flat you waited for a beat and stood chest to chest with John, “Thank you again.” You said looking down and playing with the lapels of John’s jacket before you looked back up at him, “Do you want to come up for a cup of tea?” you tried to sound coy as you spoke.

John matched your smile and nodded his head, “I could use a cuppa.” He answered and followed you back up.

You busied yourself in the kitchen, putting water in the kettle when John wrapped his arms around your midsection causing you to lose balance and teeter a bit. “How is that cuppa going?” He asked, nuzzling his nose into the side of your neck.

Your breath hitched in the back of your throat for a moment, “It’s going well,” You said trying to calm your voice. John kissed the side of your neck and smiled hearing you gasp.

You turned your head to the side and saw John waiting for you, your noses bumped together, and you could feel the small hum of laughter in John’s chest against your back. As John kissed you his hands rubbed your lower stomach before you turned and wrapped your arms around his neck and ran your fingers through his hair.

He smiled as your mouths moved together and his hands kneaded the soft flesh on your thighs. You pulled away, just enough for the tips of your noses to touch “Do you want to go to my room?” You asked trying to catch your breath.

John swallowed thickly and nodded his head before pulling back slightly. You laced your fingers with his and pulled him down the hallway until you reached the bedroom and shut the door behind him. You paused for a moment and felt as though all your bravery had been expended in that short sentence you spoke just a few moments earlier.

John rubbed his hands along your arms, “I don’t want you to think that I only stepped in for a quick lay.” He broke the silence.

You looked away bashfully, “I’m sorry, I just am nervous is all.” Truth be told John hadn’t stopped his flirtatious remarks since you’d started as a sound engineer in the studio several months ago and it made you confused. A piece of you said it was because maybe he had feelings and another piece of you said it was because John could have any woman he wanted, and he knew it.

And now here you were, confronted with your internal debate.

John cupped your face and lightly moved you to face him, your room was only dimly lit with your bedside lamp, but you could see the silhouette of his lovely features. You reached up and placed your hand over his, “We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.” He reassured you.

You closed your eyes and deeply inhaled through your nose before letting it out steadily, “Just go slow.” You said and gave his hand a little squeeze.

#ac asks #anon #john lennon x reader

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saphie3243 · 4 years ago

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Sympathy for the Devil, Chapter 45 - Service

Summary: It’s the first real battle of the war with Hybern, and Nesta finds ways to be of service to the war effort. (Nesta POV of the first full battle in ACOWAR)

Notes: this the first chapter of my fic that really doesn’t need the other 44 chapters to make sense. And it’s mostly fluffy nonsense, so I wanted to post the text here. The Elain conversation might be a bit confusing, but it’s really short at the start.

Word Count: 6000+

Read on AO3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26334061/chapters/69611046

Their tents went up before even Rhys and Feyre’s. Morrigan’s orders. Nesta picked up her sister once more while camp-mothers erected Elain’s tent for her and summoned in the furniture. As soon as it was done, she brought Elain inside and tucked her into a warm cot. Nesta’s tent went up next to it, followed by Az’s on Elain’s other side, Mor‘s out front, and Cassian’s flanking Nesta’s tent. Perfectly insulated from the camp at large. Good. No one else needed to see this.

Nesta sat in a chair next to her bedside, legs crossed, watching. One of the camp mothers stopped at the entrance. “Milady, your tent is up.”

“Thank you,” Nesta responded. The woman was the closest thing to middle-aged Nesta had ever seen a fae. Magda was a crone, and the rest were young no matter how old. She, too, was youthful in her face, but hard work had given her lines. Either labor or Illyrian heritage gave her mass, and a long day made her tired. She bowed her head and turned around. The scars on her wings gleaming as she left.

Nesta watched the entrance for a moment longer and turned back to her sister. They had not been alone since Graysen’s rejection. “Are you here or in the memories?” she asked.

“He’s going to ask Tabitha,” she said shamefully, turtling her head deep into the covers.

“I could have told you that,” Nesta crossed her arms.

“I saw it when he asked for the ring. Him on knees in front of her,” she blinked away some tears. “I don’t see her with him though.”

“You don’t?”

“I see… I see them sometimes- our friends. Tabitha is always with a boy, but never a man.”

Nesta whispered, “George.” Elain craned her head up in question. “Her son,” Nesta explained.

“She had a son?” Elain asked, slightly more animated, causing some covers to fall from her shoulders.

“Did you not know?”

“I thought it was just a rumor,” Elain whispered, then with more solemnity as she sunk back down, “I thought a lot of things were just rumors.” More tears came. So many more. Nesta pulled up the fallen covers to tuck her in, then stroked her cheek gently. Elain turned away, pulling the covers up higher.

“Elain?”

“This is the last time,” she said. “But can I just… be alone?”

Nesta nodded even though Elain couldn’t see it. “I’ll be next door, ok?”

Cassian was standing in front of her tent, arms crossed in front of him, leaning on one leg, waiting on his tent, apparently. It was cold. She opened her tent and held the flap open, “Want to wait inside?” She offered.

He looked back at his half-erected tent, the snow around them, nodded and followed her in.

“How is she doing?”

Nesta stretched her neck, looking at the wall of her tent as though she could see through to where Elain lay. “Three sisters, three broken engagements, and Elain had to be the one that didn’t end it on her terms,” she sighed and rubbed between her eyes. “Tea?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

Her tent was identical to Elain’s, if slightly different colors. Not as big as the High Lord tent, but it was cozy. A table against one of the sides had a small oil lamp-stove, teas, and a kettle. Next to it was buckets of water for whatever purposes. Her trunk and a chair were on the other side. The cot in the middle was as nice as Elain’s. She lit the stove and started heating the water while Cassian sat tentatively on her trunk.

“I’m surprised you aren’t still with her.”

“She wants to be alone. I don’t blame her.” She set out the cups and filled little tea balls. The beauty of magic stoves, the kettle whistled almost immediately. She handed him a cup and took a seat on her cot.

“Worried about tomorrow?” she asked him at the same time he asked her, “Three engagements?”

There was another silent pause. She repeated her question, “Worried about tomorrow?”

He shook his head. “No. Azriel verified Jurian’s intel. They aren’t expecting us, and we will be very ready for them. It’s just… the buzz.” She cocked her head in question. “Before battle, the atmosphere changes. Apprehension, excitement, it all blends. Makes it hard to rest.”

Nesta nodded. “How did you deal with it?”

“Drinking and fucking, usually,” he said with a shit-eating grin. She raised an eye-brow at him.

“Not in this tent, you’re not.”

“Of course not. I can’t go two nights without sleep before battle, anyway,” he kept his smile. “We’re not all you.”

“Sleep is for the weak,” she countered, taking a sip of her tea. Between Elain, the Wall, and battle tomorrow, she’d highly doubted she’d be getting to sleep tonight.

“Have you eaten today?” he asked, she- along with most of them- didn’t touch their lunch.

“Not since… breakfast,” in the Dawn Court, because this day was just so very long.

Cassian was immediately at the entrance, sticking his head out and asking for food. “Two plates, please Marta. Thank you.” He turned back around and smiled again. “I heard you slapped that little shit.”

“Of course that makes you smile,” she rolled her eyes. The same woman who set up her tent brought by dinner more quickly than Nesta would have thought. Things must happen faster when the general asks for them. Marta brought them bowls of stew and a loaf of crusty bread.

“Thank you,” Cassian said, taking the food from her. Nesta parroted from deeper inside. Cassian set the food on the table and indicated she join him with a jerk of his head. She came over and took the seat as Cassian pulled up the trunk to sit with her.

She broke the bread, placing the bigger piece next to his bowl. “I wasn’t going to do anything. If he just turned her down, I was going to let it go.”

“Really?” He didn’t seem to believe that for a second.

Nesta rolled her eyes again. “I’d rather he turn her down than stay for obligation. I can’t fault someone for their feelings,” she sighed, “but he just kept going.”

“I can fault him. Not wanting to marry because she’s fae-”

“I know you don’t understand it,” Nesta interrupted. “But you aren’t human.” They were silent again. Nesta ripped off a piece of bread and dipped it in her soup - time to change the topic. “Did you know Jurian?”

Cassian considered. “I was in the front lines then- a foot soldier. I fought with him, certainly, but I was one of hundreds. The others knew him better, I mostly knew him by reputation… and after Clythia, I didn’t want to know him better.” The disgust came back, the one they all had when speaking of the actions that practically won the war. “I take it from your scowl, you disagree?”

“You’re not-”

“Human?” His voice rose, not much, but enough. “That’s not an excuse. And if you haven’t noticed, sweetheart, you aren’t either.”

Nesta slammed her spoon on the table. “I am well aware what was done to me,” she snarled. “And I am also aware that is nothing compared to what Hybern did to his slaves, and what he will do if he has them again.”

“So the ends justify the means?”

“Your history books refer to humans as chattel. You get offended at being called ‘lesser fae’. Was his action underhanded, manipulative, and horrible? Absolutely. But it worked. And it turned the tide of the war.”

“I don’t know why I didn’t expect you to believe in victory at any costs,” he shook his head and picked at his stew.

“When the other outcome is desolation? Damn straight.” Nesta took another bite of her dinner.

“So why not train with me?” Cassian flicked his gaze up to hers. He leaned in, getting close- too close. Nesta froze. “If you believe in victory at all costs, why not learn to fight, join the battle yourself.”

He was so close, looking at her with such intensity. This was too much. She couldn’t just look away. She couldn’t dismiss the question. Why did she keep letting him do this? And this time was entirely on her. They spend one night drinking to escape raucous sex noises and suddenly they’re what, “friends?” The fuck was she doing inviting him in? She was practically asking for this.

“I won’t turn the tide,” she finally said.

He stayed close. “You are stronger than you think, Nesta Archeron.” He backed away, back to dinner. “And with me as your teacher, it wouldn’t matter anyway.”

They finished dinner and Nesta took their empty bowls and set them outside the tent. By the time she turned around, Cassian had moved to her cot and was lounging across it.

“Your own tent is set up, you know.”

“But I like your tent,” he beamed. “And I was thinking I’d call in my favor.”

“What favor?”

“I’ve been flying all day,” he turned over onto his stomach, wings falling down on either side of the cot. “And it’s made me very sore. I sure could use a massage.”

Nesta felt red fill her cheeks, but somehow kept her cool. “I didn’t realize you demand payment for your services.”

He turned his head to her, resting it on his folded arms. “I’m not demanding. You don’t have to do anything. But I do think it would be a pleasant thank you for saving you last night.” His wings flared and settled. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep my shirt on, wouldn’t want to work you up,” he winked. This… was a bad idea. This was a dumb idea. She should just tell him to leave, or walk over and steal his tent for the night. Or leave and tell on him to Azriel. Really anything. Anything other than what she was currently doing.

Which was slowly, but surely, without taking her eyes off of his, walking towards him. She got to the edge of the cot and extended a hand, slowly tracing a line down the outside of his wing. He shivered. She pressed the rest of her hand against the surface. It was an odd texture, the same as skin, and she could tell it was supposed to be smooth like it. But there were so many little scars that bumped on the pads of her fingers. Some from Hybern, some must have been from before.

“As lovely as that is, it’s my back that-” his breath caught in a simply delicious way as her finger traced up to the bones. Oh, she thought, locking that information away for later. Later? What? Nesta shook the thought from her head and changed her target. She moved her hands to his back, starting with the shoulder closest to her.

She didn’t realize he wasn’t wearing his leathers when he came in, just a thick wool undershirt. She could feel the mass of muscle underneath the clothes. The very hard, very thick, mass of muscles. She explored a bit more with her touch, digging in the way he did for her that night, and this time the soft groan was from relaxation, not… whatever the wing did to him.

From wear she stood, with his sheer mass, there was not much else she could reach. And well, she had already come this far. “Don’t expect this again,” she said as she climbed on top of him, sitting down on his (very round, very firm) ass and bracing her legs on either side of him. She felt him about to say something and cut him off, “Can it or I stop.” He said nothing.

Nesta went back to working his shoulders, this time both at once. It was a bit of a challenge, as she had to lean forward, but not accidentally put weight on his wings. And he was so tall she had to stretch to reach. She moved down to the blades of the shoulders, digging deep into a bump just inside the bone. It ground under her ministrations and Cassian let out an absolutely sinful moan. “Shh,” she scolded.

“It was a good spot!” he defended.

“Shh!”

“Can I at least ask a question?” The silence was a little awkward. She allowed it. “You said three engagements. I hadn’t realized you and Clare-”

“Not Clare,” Nesta dug her knuckle into his knot, causing another groan - he bit this one off. She eased up a bit, going lighter on that spot for a bit.

“Then who-”

“A nobody. We were engaged for convenience, I broke it off when he no longer was.” She didn’t know how he always saw her, especially now when he wasn’t even looking. But he, so quietly, so gently, asked:

“Was he the one who-”

“I said one question,” she interrupted, going much too hard on a bone, causing him to cry out. But he didn’t say anything else about it.

He just bit his lip and let Nesta go back to work. When she finally got down grinding out the knots on his upper back, she found a new issue, the wings. They grew out on either side of his spine, going down most of the length of his back. From how he laid out, they were blocking most of the sides of his back, so she just took to gently rubbing little curly-cues up and down what little space was exposed on either side of his spine.

She got to the bottom and could have stopped, but this was oddly meditative. So she kept going. From the bottom of the spine, she fanned out and curved up, starting a path underneath the wings. Her knuckles brushed on the underside of his wings and he shuddered again. She kept going. Another shudder and then he was on his side, his hip digging between her legs.

His head was propped up on his hand. “If you keep going there, this night might have a very different ending than what you have in mind.”

“Then we are done,” Nesta said, pushing off him before he shifted again and she let out a noise from the friction.

As she got her leg clear of him, he sat up and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her into his lap on the bed just long enough to give thanks. “Thank you. I didn’t think you’d actually do it,” he whispered in her ear just before kissing her cheek. He let go immediately after, allowing her, in her outrage, to twist around and try to whack him in the head. He grabbed the hand that went for his jaw and held in place, his other arm going around her waist, holding her so she was sideways, with her legs up on the bed.

“Let me go,” she said, hoping it sounded firm despite the heat on her face.

“I taught you - just today, I might add- how to escape a hold. Can you really not get out of this?”

“Cassian!” she hissed.

“Ok, fine,” he nodded, and then looked back up with a gleam in his eye, “Only if you promise not to hit me.”

She glared at him. One second passed. Then another. And another.

“Guess I’m sleeping here then!” He threw his body sideways down on the cot, bringing Nesta back with him.

“You are not sleeping here!” She wiggled in his arms, turning so she could push off of him, but it just left their bodies facing each other.

“Why not? It’s cold and I’m so hot.” Said with the confidence of a man who knows exactly how attractive he is.

“You’re a brute.”

“A very relaxed one now, thank you,” he smiled right into her face.

“A giant brute.”

“Nesta,” he said her name with a whisper. Her nostrils flared. “You haven’t told me to leave yet.”

No, she hadn’t.

“I can’t sleep like this!” she argued.

“That’s not telling me to leave.”

“Would you even stay?” she accused. There was no way he would actually stay the night here. He just wanted to annoy her with the possibility. There was no way-

“If you let me,” he answered in that raspy voice of his. He wasn’t looking anywhere but her eyes, holding her close, deadly serious. Nesta gulped.

“Are you that worried about tomorrow?”

“Not at all,” he smiled.

“Do you feel bad about what happened today?” She meant the Wall, maybe her sister...

“Not why I’m here,” he answered.

“Then why would you stay?” she asked.

His eyes flared, the dark flare she’s seen in her bedroom, the quiver of his smile. But it was his forehead that he pushed to hers as he answered. “Because you let me.”

Nesta took in a breath, and with him holding her like this, all she breathed in was him. Leather and the wind and the grass and him. Today sucked. It royally sucked. The Wall fell, her sister was next door crying, and she was laying in this bat’s arms, comfortable and warm.

“I’m still wearing my shoes,” she mumbled. He let go of her. Nesta pushed off him and got up. She pulled off her belt and placed it - and the dagger attached to it - on ground next to the head of the bed, earning a grunt of approval from behind her. She kicked off her leather boots and put them at the foot of the bed. She threw a glance over her shoulder at him, he had sat up now, and was watching her very carefully. With a steadying breath, Nesta bunched up her wool dress and pulled it over her head. She heard a sharp intake from behind her, but didn’t turn around as she neatly folded the dress and placed it in the clothes trunk. She pulled the pin from her hair and placed it on the table.

When everything was in its place, she turned around to him again. It wasn’t like she was naked, she still had on her chemise, her bloomers, he regularly saw more of her sister and Morrigan. Cassian was sitting on the cot, watching her very carefully. His boots now neatly dwarfing hers at the foot of the bed, a set of knives by on the ground by where his head would be, and his leather breaches discarded haphazardly on the ground. He kept his shirt on, and his linen under breached were modest enough to cover everything, but her eyes still caught on the budle between his thighs.

She approached the bed and he backed up a bit, to make sure she had space. She stopped just as her legs hit the edge. “Just sleeping,” she said definitively.

“Of course,” he nodded.

“Because it’s cold.”

“Sure,” he said, sarcasm re-entering his tone. But he agreed. So Nesta climbed in with him. They lay down facing one another, one of Cassian’s arms acting as a pillow. With this position, she found her face very comfortable nuzzled into his chest. He pulled the furs up to cover them both, creating the perfect cocoon of warmth. She closed her eyes and tried to relax, to breathe in and sleep. His free arm wrapped around her and she fell asleep like that, feeling perfectly safe for the first time in… for the first time.

She decided that the bond had nothing whatsoever to do with it. It had to be because he gave her a knife.

___

Staying in camp while everyone went to battle was the torture Hybern failed to do when she was in a dungeon.

She woke in Cassian’s arms. More accurately, Cassian woke her gently to get her off of his arm so he could get up and get dressed.

“Nesta, Nesta, it’s time to get up.” She yawned into his chest and started to rise, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. By the time he had gotten out of bed and was pulling up his pants, she had fully woken up and realized what the hell she had done last night.

She slept with Cassian.

She soberly slept with Cassian.

In his arms. All night. Snuggled.

“Cassian.”

“Yes?” he asked, sitting next to her and pulling on his boots.

“Don’t tell anyone.”

He paused in the tying of his laces before agreeing. “Sure.”

“I don’t want 50 questions with Feyre.” Or judgement from Mor. Or looks from Rhysand. He looked back at her and nodded. He reached behind and grabbed his bandolier. Strapping his knives to himself, he nodded to her and headed for the door.

“Cassian,” she said again.

“I won’t let anyone see me,” he answered.

She shook her head. “Win.”

He met her gaze for a long moment. With an evil grin he responded, “As you wish.” And then he left for war.

And so began a long day of waiting. Elain wasn’t crying anymore, but she was sleeping. Whether it was because she had been up all night mourning or because she was wandering her memories, Nesta didn’t know. But watching her sleep peacefully got boring pretty damn quick. Doing nothing got pretty damn boring pretty quick.

Nesta walked around the camp. It was empty, but not devoid of people. The camp-mothers flitted about, some prepping dinner, others cleaning linens, some were pre-packing, in case the order to move was given. If there were jobs for non-combatants to do, then maybe she could help here. Nesta approached the one that seemed to be giving orders to the others.

“Hello…?”

“Nonnie,” she answered the unspoken question and bowed her head. “Lady Nesta.”

“Nice to meet you, Nonnie,” Nesta bowed her head back. “Is there anything that I can do?”

The thin, stern looking Illyrian woman seemed surprised by the question, but nodded. She sent Nesta to a group of women preparing medical supplies. They were filling vials with vats of potions, tearing bandages, assembling suture kits, anything that would make it easier for healers to do their duty when the battle ended. The women all nodded to Nesta as she came over, and if they thought it was odd that the High Lady’s sister was volunteering to work, they didn’t voice it.

Cassian was right last night. If she wasn’t going to be able to help fight the war, then she was at least going to help support the ones that were. One of the women put a roll of linen in front of Nesta. She asked if she needed a knife. With a little smile, she shook her head and unsheathed the dagger Cassian gave her. The woman squinted at it, but nodded and told Nesta to make the bandaged three knuckles wide.

She didn’t speak as she worked the way the Illyrians around her did. But she listened. They chattered about soldiers, about the war, about what camps they came from. Some of them were married to soldiers, others to lords, it seemed Nonnie was even Devlon’s mother. Nesta smiled. That’s why they didn’t bat an eye, Nesta thought, it was just what these women did at war - whatever they could.

Where Devlon and his men seemed to be afraid of her, the women didn’t care. At most she had one old crone - the lady mixing the potions- ask her, “Are you really a witch?”

“Yes,” Nestaa answered solemnly.

“Been an age since I last saw a witch,” the crone nodded to Nesta’s work, “make sure those bandages are straight.”

And that was that. She still felt abuzz thinking about the battlefield, the progress, and wanted nothing more than to be there, watching, helping, but at least she was doing something. And there was dignity in what she was doing, however simple it seemed. She had been told that Illyrian women were mistreated, repressed. She could see the scars from where the older women had their wings clipped, but… they didn’t seem miserable. They smiled, they took pride in their work, their status. It wasn’t fighting, but it was essential, and they understood that. Nesta wasn’t an idiot, she knew that the lack of choice in the matter was what Cassian and Azriel had problems with, but she couldn’t help thinking that they didn’t understand this part, either. Not everyone is a fighter. It doesn’t mean their work isn’t noble.

Nonnie came back. “Battle’s over. Camp is moving to the battlefield. Medics first.” And that was it. Supply runners strapped up with packs of medical supplies, held onto healers and winnowed them out. Morrigan and Feyre came back to take on this roll as well. The rest of the camp began to break down.

The kitchen staff went next, so they could finish dinner prep, and finally the tents, armor, and spare weapons. Nesta went last with Elain. She had wanted to go with the medical staff, to continue her little job, but Morrigan pointed out that the battlefield hadn’t been cleared yet, and that Elain might not want to see the carnage. Nesta relented. At least Mor made it clear that the battle was a landslide victory with minimal casualties. That she didn’t bring up Cassian was enough to know he was probably ok. She still kept pacing though, waiting, twiddling her thumbs, useless.

Landing in the new camp was jarring against the peaceful work of just hours ago. It was warm, for one - they were in the Summer court now. But the energy was different. The soldiers around her buzzed, excited and gossiping about their general. How he tore through Hybern’s lines, how he made a miraculous throw of a spear, how he was Enalius reborn. “He has seven siphons, after all,” one said. She knew the siphon thing was a mark of power, but she’d have to ask him or Az about Enalius later. The excitement was a stark contrast to the ash and blood that still soaked the battlefield. Rhysand had cleared the corpses, but the stench of death and Hybern remained.

She tried not to linger on that stench for too long. She needed to get back to work. With a quick check on Elain - now sleeping just as she was only now in a new location - she asked where the medical ladies were.

Feyre, done winnowing people back and forth as Nesta and Elain were the final packages, joined her. The ladies all bowed quickly to their High Lady and handed them each a bolt of linen. With actual patients here, the staff was scattered about, no longer keeping around a single work area. As soon as they finished a basket of bandages, they were sent off to deliver them to a medic who needed them. Deliveries usually blended with some menial chores to help with treatment. Taking the used bandages, fetching water, washing the wound so the healer could finish up their current patient and immediately switch to suturing this one. It was tiring, and mud caked on her dress as they stomped around, but it was a good kind of tired, and exhilarating one. That was new to her.

Nesta felt Cassian’s approach before she heard him. She snapped her head up to him. He was filthy, covered in the blood of his enemies and the mud of the field. The dark plate mail still strapped to his body, but his helmet, at least, was off - tucked in the crook of his arm- his dominant arm.

It took her all of four seconds to piece together why Cassian, warrior extraordinar, the man who slept with his blades in reach and seemed pleased that she did, too, would carry his helmet in such a way that prevented easy access to the weapons strapped to his hip. She was walking over to him before she knew what she was doing. “You’re hurt.”

“It’s fine.”

She glared up at him for a moment, she’d told him that once when she was bleeding, and she was lying. Without answering, she went for his arm. He lifted it to her. With a flash of his siphons, the armor receded enough to expose a swollen and broken wrist.

“You know better than to walk around with an injury,” Rhysand scolded behind them.

“I was busy.” If Cassian was taking that tone with Rhysand, then he was more tired and probably in more pain than he was letting on. “And it’ll be fixed by morning.”

Nesta raised an eyebrow at him, scowled and pressed a finger lightly into it, causing him to hiss. Better by morning didn’t mean it didn’t need attention now. “How do I fix it?” She asked, since she certainly wasn’t going to let him walk around with a broken wrist.

“Icing it usually helps, but wrapping it will just lock it in place long enough for the sprain to repair itself—”

Nesta was already reaching for the pitcher of water and bandages. She had assisted enough already today to know how to wash it correctly, at least When she started wrapping it, she asked him for his help. “Tell me if it’s not right,” she requested. He nodded. She started the bandage two inches below the injury, holding it in place with her fingers - like she saw the medics do. She wrapped it around, down, and then started up.

“Too loose,” Cassian commented. She nodded and pulled tighter, he winced, “too tight.” She found a balance, he still winced, but it was from his injury being pushed back into position, not because she was hurting him. She got to the end and did the final tie off, tucking the bandages back into themselves. It was probably a sloppy job, but it was something.

He nodded at her work and let go of his arm, ready to be done with it. But his other hand shot out and grasped her finger. She looked up at him, gratitude finding and affection in his beautiful hazel eyes. “Thank you,” his voice was rough, deep. He said it the same way he had told her his reasons for staying with her the night before.

She wanted to cry as she looked over him. He had gone to war and he won, like she asked. He was a hero of the first battle, and he was standing in front of her with nothing more than a broken wrist. It was going to be ok. This man, this male, he could keep his promise. He could protect her people. He was Enalius reborn, apparently.

She was going to ask him to explain that one tonight when Morrigan’s voice came from behind them. She had forgotten they weren’t alone. Cassian had, too, from the way he jerked back his hand. But she could still feel it, the soft calluses of his fingers, the strengthening connection between them.

Nesta rushed back to the tent, making an excuse out of getting more water, trying very hard to remember why she had asked him not to tell anyone. It took longer than she would like to admit. Especially when she could hear him chatting away like it was nothing.

___

Despite it being a landslide victory, there were enough injuries to keep Feyre and Nesta up for hours after dark. They didn’t even stop to eat. They just kept working. Tearing up bandages, delivering them to sick beds, clearing the old ones, ferrying out tools, washing wounds, whatever they could do to help.

More than once, they were asked to help hold down the patients. Keep them from spasming out of surgery. It was hard, for those cases, to remember the difference between medicine and torture. But Nesta grit her teeth and held firm, sometimes whispering to the male some platitudes, sometimes letting them focus on their fear of being held by a witch rather than the pain of sutures.

It wasn’t until Nonnie sent them away that they finally went back to their tents to rest. Nesta stopped by Elain’s first, popping only her head in to check on her. The rest of Nesta was macabre enough that she was afraid it would scare Elain if she saw. Luckily, she was still asleep. There were dirty dishes on her table, so she had eaten at some point, then. That’s good then.

Nesta’s stomach grumbled and she ignored it, trudging the 6 feet to her tent flap. The first thing she registered when she stepped in was the smell of stew - the food she’d been informed would be the default meal for this war. The second was the goblet of water thrust in her face that she took and drank without thinking. The third was the general standing over her with the pitcher and dinner.

“Cassian!” She whispered loudly - not wanting to wake anyone else in camp, also her throat hurt? How did that happen? She finished the water in the cup. He traded her the cup for food and guided her to a chair. “What are you doing here?”

“You have a habit of getting lost in your tasks. Eat.” He pointed to the food and refilled her water.

“You could have left it on the table,” she said between bites. Manners be damned.

“But then how would I repay you for my wrist?” he held up his arm and sat on the bed. She rolled her eyes and started inhaling the bread.

She paused for a drink of water. “Aren’t you tired?” She could see it in his eyes. He was exhausted when she set the wrist, he had to be entirely on fumes now.

“Probably as much as you,” he smiled at her. “Nonnie mentioned you working with the females all day.”

Nesta drank down the last of the broth and wiped her mouth. “I cut bandages all day,” she said dismissively.

“From the state of you, you did a mighty bit more than that.”

She looked down at her filthy gown. She looked as bad as he did just hours ago. To say she needed a bath was an understatement. But it was already late, the ladies would be tired, too. She could change tonight and ask for hot water tomorrow.

“Thank you for dinner, but I think we both need sleep now more than anything.”

“You are not getting into this bed without a bath first.”

“Excuse me?”

Cassian pointed to the side of the tent. 2 buckets of water sat steaming with towels and soap arranged nicely next to them. “Figured that could cover your face, hands, and feet. Marta will get you a proper bath tomorrow.”

Nesta didn’t even hear him. She just sighed and stripped her outer dress as she walked over to the blessed hot water.

“Oh, might need to change that one, too.” Nesta turned to look at him and saw where he was pointing. One of the men she held down had knocked her into the dirt, and apparently the blood on the ground had soaked through to her chemise as well, getting both the front and the back. That’s why I felt wet. She had thought it was just sweat. There was that mixed in there, too.

“Turn around,” she said to Cassian. Wondering why that was her order, and not “leave.” But he did as he was asked immediately and she was already starting to untie her chemise’s laces. She peeled the sweaty, bloody garment off, finding it had soaked through to her skin. She dipped a washcloth in the water and wiped her front down first. She dipped the washcloth in the second bucket, rinsing it, and when back to the first. With a wet splosh, she slapped the cloth to her back, trying to get the grime she felt there.

“Nes, that’s not going to work.”

“Don’t call me Nes,” she turned to see him walking to her. Nesta spun back around and covered her chest, red as a cherry. “I said turn around.”

“You’ve got a gallon of blood down your back, let me help,” he was behind her now. “I’m not looking at your- chest.” From the stumble, she could infer the “much” missing from the end of that sentence. His arm rested on her shoulder, his palm up and hand open. She huffed and placed the washcloth in it.

He didn’t say anything as he methodically wiped down her back. He didn’t take his time, he didn’t linger, though Nesta’s breath still hitched and she knew she’d imagine this night very differently in the future whether she wanted to or not. She could feel her pulse quicken every time the cloth met skin, every time a knuckle brushed on her spine. She hoped he didn’t notice. He didn’t seem to. He just got her clean and handed the cloth back. She listened as he walked back over the bed. “I’m facing the wall now,” he called.

Nesta took a stuttering breath and washed her arms and legs as quickly as possible. She wiped down her face last and pulled the towel around her. She finally turned around, and he was sitting on the far end of the bed, facing the cloth wall. She couldn’t be sure, but his ears were definitely red.

“I’m getting dressed now.” She stepped over to her trunk and pulled out another chemise and pulled it over her head. Once she had that coverage, she removed a pair of clean bloomers and changed them under the privacy of her skirt. “Ok you can turn around.”

He turned slowly to her. The red she saw on ears was everywhere on his face. It would be cute if he didn’t look so… hungry. He looked her up and down, eyes catching on the chest he’d now had the pleasure of seeing. But whatever pure male instinct made him zero in on her breasts, he choked down so he could look her in the eye. And she nearly melted at the heat in that look.

“Why…” he said slowly, “didn’t you ask me to leave?”

“Why did you stay?” she countered.

“I wanted to.”

She took a breath. “Well, I wanted you to... too.”

#nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #fluff #acowar #acomaf #acotar #Elain archeron #sympathy for the devil #i see your one bed and raise you separate tents but they still sleep together #I blushed the entire time I wrote this.

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sxvxrxssnape · 4 years ago

Text

minerva mcgonagall’s personal mission to make severus love christmas part 4

aka snolidays/snapemas day 5 and 6 (lights festival, food, memories, stockings) // pre-PS/the years between. minerva and severus friendship // ft. the hogwarts staff gently bullying sev and getting wine drunk together. mentions of sev’s plum blancmange @deepperplexity @blog4snape

The rest of the week passed by in a blur of teaching, brewing, and general sulking.

The term wouldn’t end until late January, but final exams were scheduled for the week before winter break and Severus had a thousand other things to finalize before the break started. There was a stack of assignments he needed to grade before everyone parted, the annual inventory that needed to be done, and he had about half a dozen cauldrons slowly simmering away with potions for the infirmary, not to mention he was creating both a study guide for the upcoming exam and an assignment that could be turned in for extra credit.

If even one student dared to fail his class after all the effort he put into making sure they passed, he was going to turn them all into frogs.

He almost felt bad that he hadn’t made much time for Minerva, and aside from seeing each other at meals - and even then, Severus wasn’t quite known for his perfect attendance in the Great Hall - he hadn’t spoken more than eight words to her since their trip to Diagon Alley.

It wasn’t as if he were avoiding her.

Much.

He just needed a few days to himself - as much as he could get when he taught two classes a day (three on Wednesdays and Thursdays) anyway. He knew the only reason they hadn’t talked about his miniscule breakdown was because they had been in public and maybe he was a little afraid of being cornered by her in private.

It was Friday now, his afternoon class had just ended, he had already checked on the status of his cauldrons, so all that was left on his to-do list was to hide himself away inside of his quarters and sulk.

Except he was all out of sugar.

Alright, not the worst problem to have and yes, he could call up a house elf and simply ask for the container to be refilled, but maybe a small part of him wanted to run into Minerva on neutral ground, so he wouldn’t have to knock on her door and risk coming off as lonely and needy. So rather than being a normal-functioning adult about this, he took his coffee ground-filled french press and flooed directly into the staff lounge.

He didn’t spend very much time in this particular room - large, brightly lit, and nestled between two towers somewhere on the fourth floor with large windows that overlooked the quidditch pitch - but it wasn’t for lack of trying. He found the lounge to be rather appealing, with its burning fireplace, sitting area, stacks of abandoned books, journals, and magazines, abundance of cabinets he liked to rifle through, and best of all, the fully stocked coffee bar off to the left of the round table.

The room wasn’t empty, and unfortunately, devoid of the person whom he was seeking. Pomona was sitting at the table with a cup of tea, poring over a stack of papers with a furrowed brow and a bit of ink smeared over her cheek. Aurora was sitting on the lone couch, momentarily distracted from the magazine she had been leafing through to look up at him as he entered, eyebrow raised at the contraption he cradled.

“What brings you here?” she asked, flicking her wand towards the record player and lowering the music that had been softly playing.

The action caused the herbology professor to look up and she frowned. “Oh, Severus.” she greeted, barely giving him more than a cursory glance. “I haven’t seen you here in a bit; thought you might have forgotten where it was.”

“Well, he did floo.” Professor Sinistra returned, her lips curling into a grin. “It’s quite possible he forgot where to find the door.”

“I didn’t forget.” Severus scowled, making his way towards the bar.

“You tell yourself that.”

“There’s tea if you want some.” Pomona called out, raising her own teacup. “Mint.”

He ignored the steaming teapot in favor of the kettle, flicking his wand to heat up the water before pouring a little over the grounds in the press. He missed the simple pleasures of having an electric coffee maker - perhaps the only positive that came from summers at Spinner's End - but he would be lying if he said he didn’t prefer the taste of the pretentious, one-cup-at-a-time brew.

While the grounds took the time to presoak, he wandered over to the pink pastry box and eyed its contents. The house elves always made sure to stock the staff room with snacks - biscuits, fruit, packages of crisps - but pastries from the local bakery were the most sought out after.

“The blueberry strudel belongs to Filius,” Pomona suddenly mentioned, not looking up from her task, “he’s already claimed it.”

Severus scowled at the remaining treat. “He’s not here, is he?” he mumbled, opening the box. He yelped as something sharp pierced his hand and drew back immediately, his face coloring slightly as Aurora started laughing.

“Like she said,” Aurora chuckled. “Filius already claimed it.”

Severus cursed under his breath and returned to his coffee, pulling down a clean mug and the sugar jar on the way. He was pouring the rest of the hot water when the door opened.

“French press again?” Minerva’s voice asked.

“Like he makes it any other way.” Aurora returned. “Professor I-Brew-Potions-For-A-Living is, unsurprisingly, the coffee snob among us.”

“I am not.” Severus frowned, placing the plunger over the glass and giving it a slight swirl before setting it aside. “It’s not my fault the rest of you don’t have any taste.”

“Oh, the baby thinks he has taste.”

Severus blinked. “Perhaps I’ll refrain from giving you a gift this year after all.” he muttered, glaring at her. “Also, you’re the second youngest professor here.”

“But not the youngest.” Aurora grinned. “That pleasure is all yours, I’m afraid.”

Before Severus could form a rebuttal, Pomona stood up and gathered her papers, rushing towards the door with an annoyed, “I can’t get any work done with you two around.” Aurora followed suit, magazine under her arm, a cheeky, “baby” escaping her lips as she closed the door behind her.

Severus sat down in Pomona’s abandoned chair, hands in his hair, as he groaned out a, “I’m most definitely not giving her a gift now.”

Minerva laughed and sat down across from him, a cup of mint tea in her hands.

“Are we still on for tomorrow?”

“The lights?”

Minerva nodded and he considered her question as he got up to finish making his coffee. He grabbed milk from the cold cupboard and then stopped to look at her. “What if we went tonight, instead?”

“Tonight?”

Severus shrugged, sitting down with his cup and a package of biscuits. “We can grab dinner beforehand, I’m thinking Italian.”

“Really?”

“Invite some of the others.”

Minerva eyed him carefully. “Do my ears deceive me, Severus Snape, or are you suggesting a staff outing to see the lights? You?”

“Don’t push it.”

“I’ll let everybody know.”

“I think we should hang the stockings in the staff room.”

“What?”

“The stockings.” Minerva emphasized, buttoning her capelet. She was standing in front of her dressing mirror, adjusting the green tartan fabric over her shoulders. She was wearing a long sleeved dress under it and, no doubt, a warming charm had already been cast over the black fabric. Her hair was free of its usual pins, the soft curls seemingly trying their best to retain their accustomed shape.

They were both in her private quarters, Severus sprawled on her couch with a book, as she finished getting ready for their outing. He had opted for his usual black on black on black, but had foregone his cloak for the grey wool coat he rarely wore.

So rarely, that when he put his hands in his pockets, he came across the crumpled ticket of a play he had seen two winters ago.

He couldn’t remember much about the show itself, but it had been the first time he had been invited to go out by his fellow colleagues and he had jumped at the chance. Of course, he had first pretended to consider it for half a day before telling Albus that he had nothing better to do that day and that he might as well tag along.

“Are you listening?”

“No.” Severus admitted, returning to the present.

Minerva scowled. “I said, we should hang the stockings we bought in the staff room. It’s got a fireplace and the room is awfully drab, don’t you think? Plus, it's neutral ground so both our stockings can be up together.”

“Well, alright.”

“Excellent, let’s go then.”

“Now?”

“We have dinner reservations at seven - which is in twenty minutes, I might add - so yes, right now. Before we’re late.”

They flooed into the staff lounge, finding Aurora leafing through a book and listening to music once again. She raised an eyebrow at the paper shopping bag they were carrying.

“What’s this?”

“Christmas.” Minerva replied simply, pulling out a stocking and handing it over. His name was now stitched along the edge in black thread and he frowned.

“When did-?”

“I asked the house elves when we first got back.”

They hung their stockings on the mantle with a temporary sticking charm and surveyed their work.

“I expect the rest of you to have a stocking on here by next week.” Minerva insisted, taking Severus’ hand and leading him out the door. “Come now, or we’ll be late.”

“Aren’t you coming?” Severus asked Aurora, pretending to eye her teaching robes in confusion. “We’re going out to dinner and then the lights festival.”

Aurora scowled at him, eyeing him carefully. “I would, but I have a class tonight.” she muttered, glancing out the window at the darkened sky. It was cloudless and few stars could be seen from her vantage point; there was no reason to cancel Astronomy tonight.

“Oh, that’s a shame.” Severus shrugged, turning around quickly to hide his smirk. “I wouldn’t have chosen tonight if I knew.”

“Liar.”

The door closed behind them.

“You know I don’t approve of this.” Minerva told him, as they made their way down the stairs and out of the castle.

“Don’t approve of what?”

Minerva shook her head at him, but didn’t answer.

They met Filius at the front door, his too-long blue scarf trailing behind him as they made their way towards the apparition point. They met Pomona on the way and once they cleared the wards, apparated into an alley close to the restaurant.

Albus was already waiting inside, looking perfectly at ease in his three-piece suit, sipping on a glass of white wine.

“Ah, there you all are.” he greeted them, as they took their seats. “This wine is absolutely wonderful, by the way - do order a glass.”

“Someone dressed up for the occasion.” Minerva eyed the headmaster.

“I wear it quite well, don’t I?”

They were brought water glasses and bread, offered three types of wine - “I really must insist on the pinot gris.” Albus interrupted - and given a set of menus.

“It’s been a while since we’ve all gone out.” Filius mentioned, taking a slice of baguette and dipping it in olive oil and balsamic. “It’s quite nice.”

“We have Severus to thank for the idea,” Albus grinned, clasping a hand on his shoulder. He flinched slightly, but he didn’t think anyone noticed.

Except for Albus, who immediately dropped his hand and offered an apologetic look.

They ordered - and unsurprisingly, Minerva ordered herself the special - and fell into easy conversation as they waited for their meal. When the food arrived, it was met with excited sounds from the (perhaps a little wine-tispy) table and plates were quickly passed around with insistent, “You need to try this fried stracchino!” and “I swear, you will never taste a better beef stracotto pasta than this one.” and even a, “Listen, I know it sounds weird, but I’m telling you - you have to try the baccala! I don’t care if you don’t like fish!”

The dessert menu left him a little discombobulated and he ordered himself coffee while the others shared rum babas and marzipan balls. One of the rum soaked sponge cakes was pushed towards him, split down the middle and filled with cream and sour cherries. He glanced up from his bicerin to find Minerva watching him.

“Try it, before these vultures get to it.”

He obliged, cutting a piece off with his fork.

“Why are you frowning?” Minerva asked, leaning closer. The others were a little pink-faced, laughing, as they played a game of rock-parchment-diffundo for the last chocolate and marzipan ball. “We are eating delicious food and drinking delicious wine - two things I know you like - and then we’re going to see the lights with all our friends. You shouldn’t be frowning.”

“I think you’ve had enough wine.”

She made a face at him. “Oh, let me guess.” she pursed her lips. “You have some sort of traumatic childhood memory involving all of this and you are currently reliving it in your head.”

Severus scowled. “I don’t have a traumatic memory for everything.”

“Could have fooled me.” Pomona spoke up, inserting herself into their conversation. The others stopped and turned to look at him. “You’re so grumpy all the time, I just figured your whole life was simply continuous trauma.”

“I’ll revoke your christmas gift too, don’t test me.”

Pomona straightened up. “Oh, you got me a gift?”

“No.”

“Don’t lie!” Pomona grinned, pointing at him. “You got me a gift!”

“Don’t think you’re special.” Severus muttered. “It’s not just you.”

“Severus got us all gifts!” Filius realized. “Severus loves us!”

He made eye contact with the headmaster. “Consider this my official resignation.”

Albus nodded, his expression turning serious. “Of course, my boy, I understand.” His eyes twinkled. “It’s a shame my staff cannot be more professional when they venture out of the castle walls, but alas, there is a reason I do not let them wander far.”

“Truly awful.”

“Severus loves us!” Pomona repeated and the table burst into giggles, save for Severus who covered his face with his hands. And he was the youngest of this lot?

They paid soon after that - Severus discretely cancelling the silencing and repelling charms they had cast on their table to hurry them along - and made their way towards the nearby park where the lights festival had been set up. The others wandered off on their own, leaving Minerva and Severus to walk the paths alone.

Once the others had wandered far enough ahead that their conversation would no longer carry, Minerva learned slightly into her friend, nudging his shoulder. “Now will you tell me?”

“It’s not a traumatic childhood memory, if that’s what you mean.”

“But you did remember something.” Minerva pressed.

“Yes.”

The path they walked was illuminated by tiny orbs, leading towards a tunnel strung with hundreds of white and blue lights. As they walked through it, Severus fell silent and simply looked up, sneaking glances of the night sky beyond the wire cage that held up all the lights.

There was a giant christmas tree waiting for them when they exited the tunnel, made entirely of green and gold twinkles - strings of lights pulled taut from a metal pole and pinned onto the ground. Similar displays surrounded it, contraptions of metal and colored lights creating bow-tied gift boxes and ornaments, stars and snowflakes, all glowing in the dark.

All the natural trees were wrapped in lights as well, not a single twig or branch left uncovered. Giant, glowing candy canes dotted the path now and they followed it, taking in every sparkling display. Music was playing and though others wandered the path, no one stood too close.

“I remember my mum used to make this dessert when I was little, it was a blancmange made from dirigible plum and cardamom, I believe."

"Oh?"

"She used to tell my father they were persimmons." he smiled softly. "Said she learned the recipe from her grandmother. It was probably my favorite part of the holiday break. I helped her make it one year; funnily enough, that was also the last Christmas I had with her."

"You said it wasn't a traumatic memory." Minerva scolded.

"It's not." Severus defended himself. "It's one of my only good ones."

"There was blancmange on the menu." Minerva remembered, smiling sadly. She watched a pair of children run between the candy canes, their laughs echoing as they chased each other.

"Fig leaf and orange." Severus recited. "It made me realize I haven't seen anywhere serve that particular dessert, let alone one made from dirigible plums. I miss it."

"Perhaps we could make it."

"You think?"

"Why not?"

Minerva nodded towards a coffee stall and they ordered themselves the gingerbread hot chocolate. They cradled their red paper cups and took small sips as they wandered through the park, pointing out certain displays.

"Perhaps nostalgia is getting the best of me." Severus finally circled back to their conversation. "But I find myself wanting to try. I don't have much left to remind me of her, especially not without also thinking of my father, but that one? That one's all ours."

"Elphinstone and I used to make a yule log cake." Minerva offered. "Down to the mushroom meringues and everything."

"I've never had one."

"Well, perhaps a baking day is in order."

"Perhaps it is."

-----

a/n: this is starting to feel more like minerva and severus' adventures in eating out

hope you enjoyed the staff picking on my problem child a little

menu inspiration comes from bocca di lupo, london (sometimes i wonder if places ever search themselves to see what people are saying and find they're being featured in harry potter fanfics and the like)

stracchino - a soft, creamy cheese which the restuarant serves fried stracotto - italian pot roast, served with pasta here baccala - preserved, salted cod (fried) bicerin - a hot drink made from espresso, drinking chocolate, and milk blancmange - this one's special because i took a direct quote from the hogwarts mystery game, where sev reminisces about this dessert and gave it more backstory. its a sort of gelatin dessert, sweet and milky. bocca di lupo has a fig and orange panna cotta on their menu, which is basically the same thing (just different thickeners) so i traded it out for the sake of using the one tidbit i know about the game.

#snapemas 2020 #snolidays2020 #snapedom #pro snape #severus snape #snapemas #professor snape #snapecember #holiday writing challenge

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