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asweetprologue · 4 years ago

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feel the turn of rotation (and stop)

@sugar-and-spice-witcher-bingo

Prompt: Date Night Relationships: Geralt/Jaskier Rating: Gen Content Warnings: None Summary: Geralt ask Jaskier to go to the Yule festival with him. Jaskier misunderstands his intentions. ao3

“There’s a festival happening tonight.”

Jaskier looked up from where he was working on his latest composition. Geralt was leaning against the doorway to his bedchambers, which Jaskier tended to use as a study as well so that he could reserve the main space for entertaining. He took a moment to set down his quill and wipe his sweaty palm on his trousers. It was almost overly warm in the room, the fire blazing at full height to fight back against the chill of his outward facing chambers. The single, tiny window above his desk ran with moisture, the frost melted away by the heat of the room.

“Yes,” he answered, turning in his plush chair to face Geralt fully, one ankle coming up to cross over his knee. “There’ll be a procession at sunset starting at the main gate, to light the lanterns. And then dancing and such in the main square. Typical Yuletide celebrations.” As he spoke, Jaskier allowed himself to observe Geralt in full, briefly sweeping a glance over his companion. It was exceptionally rare for them to spend winters together; Geralt almost always chose to spend the colder months in Kaer Morhen with his brothers, while Jaskier returned to civilization. This year they had been deep in southern Sodden when the first snows unexpectedly hit, and by the time they’d made it back to Redania they’d received word from Vesemir that the pass to Kaer Morhen was closed. Jaskier had been offered a position teaching for the winter semester, along with a fairly lucrative retainer with a local lordling, so he’d offered Geralt a place to crash while they waited for the witchering season to start up again.

The downtime suited Jaskier’s companion nicely. Geralt’s hair was pulled back into a customary knot behind his head, but it was clean and soft looking, free of dirt and monster guts. His skin shone in the firelight, and the dark circles that always seemed smudged beneath his eyes were faded after weeks of consistent rest and food. He’d taken to walking around without his armor on, content after a few days with the knowledge that Oxenfurt was populated by nothing more threatening than overenthusiastic academics. At the moment he was wearing a pair of old black trousers and a dark blue shirt that stood out against his white skin like a splash of wine on a silk tablecloth. It had cost Jaskier a small fortune, but it was worthwhile to see it clinging to Geralt’s shoulders.

He looked good. Jaskier felt his cheeks heat up as he realised he’d been staring. Snapping back to the conversation at hand, he realized that Geralt had been speaking.

“- if you wanted to.”

“Sorry, what?” Jaskier asked, blinking. Geralt rolled his eyes, used to Jaskier’s lapses in attention. The motion carried annoyance, but when his eyes fell on Jaskier again there was fondness in them.

“I asked if you’d planned on attending. Seems like the kind of thing you’d be working.” Strong arms crossed over a broad chest, stretching the dark fabric across thick biceps. Jaskier swallowed.

“Ah, well, typically I would indeed be regaling the crowds with my sonorous melodies. But considering I had company, I thought it might be better to leave myself, uh.” He cut himself off, feeling suddenly exposed in the admission. While he had taken the time off initially hoping he might be doing something with Geralt, he hadn’t truly expected the witcher to want to do more than maybe get drunk on overpriced Redanian wine. “Well. You’re here, after all,” he finished lamely.

Geralt blinked at that, something odd crossing his face before he looked away. Staring at the fire across from Jaskier, he said, “You could still go.”

Something was off about his tone - overly flat, which he only did when he was trying to muffle some kind of emotion. What it could be, Jaskier had no earthly idea. Confused, he said, “Well, I wouldn’t want to leave you all by yourself on Yule, Geralt. That wouldn’t make me a very gracious host! I’m entirely content to spend the evening with you here, if that’s what you would prefer.” And he was, truly. While he typically spent Yuletide amongst the people, dancing and singing and visiting with friends, he imagined it would be just as rewarding to spend the evening with Geralt, in the cramped comfort of his quarters. The two of them tipsy on ale and spirits, sitting before the fire, trading stories back and forth like they usually did on the road. Cuddled beneath a blanket, pressed up against each other despite the warmth of the hearth, drink making Geralt’s face flush as it almost never did…

Yes, Jaskier imagined he would be perfectly content to spend the evening right here.

Geralt let out a frustrated huff. “I mean, we could go. If you want. I - We should go. Together.”

It was choppy work, even for Geralt. He still refused to meet Jaskier’s gaze, staring with absolute focus at the fire. His shoulders were braced, tense as if waiting for a blow. It was baffling.

“Well, of course, if you’d like to go I’m amenable to that,” Jaskier agreed. “More than, actually. It’s great fun, you’ll see.”

Geralt finally turned to look Jaskier in the eye. A shiver traveled down his spine at the intensity there, but then again, that was how he often felt under that golden gaze. “Together,” Geralt said again.

“I wouldn’t want to go with anyone else,” Jaskier said with a dismissive wave, laughing a little. It was typical to attend the festivities with a spouse or sweetheart, but he’d not taken a paramour of any kind in several months, and nothing serious in years, if he was honest. His attention was unfortunately captured elsewhere. He spared a single moment to mourn the private evening he’d envisioned with Geralt, but he was already warming to the idea of attending the festivities. He’d already shown the witcher around Oxenfurt, but it was exciting to think of showing the city off again in a new light. Geralt had probably not attended many Yule festivals, he realized, having always spent the winters in the mountains. Something released in his chest even as his stomach dropped in disappointment as he realized Geralt probably didn’t even recognize the romantic implications of his offer.

Geralt, at least, looked relieved. The tension dropped from his shoulders, and he gave Jaskier a soft smile. Jaskier’s traitorous heart skipped in his chest, and Geralt’s grin suggested that it may have been audible. Jaskier wasn’t sure what to do with himself, hands fluttering across his desk to meaninglessly straighten papers and notes. “Good,” Geralt said, the grin softening back into that disorienting smile. “I’m assuming you’ll want to change.”

“Ah, yes, can’t very well go out in this,” Jaskier agreed, still feeling slightly unmoored.

“Of course,” Geralt said seriously, but his eyes danced with mirth. “I’ve got some things to do in the market before the stalls close. Meet you at the gate at sunset?”

“Perfection,” Jaskier said, and Geralt nodded before peeling himself off of the doorframe and disappearing into the other room. A moment later Jaskier heard the telltale sound of the exterior door opening and closing, the rusty hinges creaking. He sat for a moment in the empty room, going over the encounter in his mind and trying to determine what had made it feel so off.

“Strange,” he said to himself, and began packing up his things. He had a festival to prepare for.

***

Dressed appropriately in his finest woolen tunic and the thick fur lined cloak Geralt had gifted him the previous year, Jaskier set out from his abode to meet Geralt. An hour or so had passed since their conversation, and the sun was lying low and languorous on the edge of the horizon. Its dying light rippled across the Pontar where it split around the island, the light layer of snow that covered the landscape transformed into gold dust. Already he could see the crowd gathering on the far side of the bridge, led by the priestess of Melitele, returning from the temple outside of the city. Jaskier stood inside the city gates, scanning the faces around him for familiar features.

After a few moments he saw him - highlighted against the backdrop of the setting sun, his hair turned to fiery gold in the dying light. Geralt smiled when they made eye contact, and immediately began to push his way through the crowd towards Jaskier. He too had dressed for the weather, his own wool cloak muffling his form. As he stepped into Jaskier’s space, he said, “You ready?”

Jaskier had the feeling that he didn’t know exactly what he should be ready for, but he nodded anyway. “They’re just beginning,” he said, waving towards the group approaching on the bridge. It was slow going, the procession stopping every few meters to wait while the priestess lit the lanterns lined up along the walls. They would be at it for the next hour at least, making their way around the circumference of the city to light the protective lanterns and then returning to the bridge, where the large crowd would release their own floating lanterns to carry their prayers for the new year to Melitele.

“There’s music in the square,” Geralt said, and Jaskier could just barely hear it as well. Normally he would be amongst the performers, but tonight he was there as the audience.

“The flutist is off key, I can tell already,” he said with a grin, though he could hear no such thing from this distance. Geralt huffed out a laugh and took Jaskier’s arm, just above the end of his glove. Geralt’s fingers were bare, his witcher metabolism keeping him warm enough without them, and they were a cold shock against the skin of Jaskier’s wrist. He let himself be led into the square, which was packed with people. Tables had been set up with food and drink around the edges, while the far side was dominated by a low stage. In the center, couples and groups danced, circling each other in common folk movements. The tune was jaunty and fun, a lively song to help fight back against the dark that threatened the edges of the gathering. Defiant in the best of ways.

“I don’t suppose you know any of the local dances?” Jaskier asked, already knowing the answer. Geralt confirmed it with a shake of his head. “Well then be a dear and get us some ales, hmm? We can still watch.”

Geralt, for once, did as he was bid without comment, probably just as interested in the alcohol as Jaskier was. He found them a spot to stand near the mouth of an alley, where he hoped the noise of the crowd would be a bit reduced. Geralt was sometimes bothered by the bustle and murmur of a large group of people.

Geralt rejoined him shortly, offering him a mug of mulled wine. Jaskier took a grateful sip, feeling the hot liquid settle in his gut and warm him from the inside out. It was very good - spicy and strong, just how he liked it. Geralt hummed appreciatively when he took his own drink.

They stood watching for a while, Jaskier making the occasional snide comment about a bad dancer or an overplayed tune if he thought it would make Geralt laugh. And it did, more often than not; Geralt was open and affectionate this evening, leaning down to whisper conspiratorially in Jaskier’s ear as they watched a couple sneak away from the dancefloor. Jaskier laughed into his glove, quickly beginning to feel light and soupy from the drink.

“I know this one,” Geralt said suddenly, drawing his attention back to the band. It was a slightly slower song, a couple’s dance. Bright gold eyes turned in Jaskier’s direction. “Want to dance?”

Jaskier gaped. “With you?”

Geralt’s eyebrow quirked upwards, betraying only exasperation. “Don’t see anyone else here making an offer.”

“Well, you - I - Alright,” he said, finally, swallowing his confusion. Geralt offered a hand, and Jaskier accepted.

They moved out towards the dancers, Jaskier feeling his heart rise in his throat. When they reached the edge of the pack, Geralt turned and gave Jaskier a short bow, overly formal for the setting. With an incredulous laugh, Jaskier returned the motion, and when he raised his head again Geralt was in his space, hands coming up to rest lightly on his waist.

It shouldn’t have been able to take his breath away so easily, but it did.

The motions of the dance were simple, basic circular pathways as they stepped out and back in together. Their hands never parted, but every time the steps pulled them apart Jaskier found himself missing Geralt’s warmth beside him. Slowly, the tempo picked up speed, until they were twisting and whirling around without pause. When the song ended, Jaskier was panting for breath. Geralt looked winded himself, though his chest rose and fell at the same rate it always did.

They made their way off the dance floor once again, ceding their spot to another couple. Geralt’s arm curled around Jaskier’s waist and he leaned into the touch, feeling more drunk than he should be. “You’re good at that, witcher,” he said, accusatorily. “I could have been taking you dancing all this time! How many balls have we been to?”

Geralt flushed faintly, the color staining his ears a fetching red. “The Wolf witchers use techniques that are similar to some dances,” he said. “The pacing, some of the moves, are familiar.”

“I’m never going to let this go,” Jaskier warned as they shuffled back towards the mouth of their alleyway. “You’re going to have to dance with me at every festival, ball, and banquet we ever attend from now on.”

Geralt smirked at him. “I don’t know that I mind.”

And what was that supposed to mean? Jaskier felt a flush spread down his cheeks, his throat, even his chest felt warm. Geralt didn’t mind dancing? Or didn’t mind dancing with Jaskier? Panicked, he said, “I’m going to get us more drinks!”

By the time he returned with more warm wine, he had managed to wrestle his emotions back into place. He passed Geralt one of the mugs, giving him a wide grin that he hoped would cover for his accelerated heartbeat.

As they drank, Jaskier found himself at a loss for words. He was happy to be here, truly. It was always enjoyable to spend time with the object of his affections, but at the same time, he felt something cold settling in his stomach that the wine could not touch. He glanced at Geralt out of the corner of his eye, watching the other man observe the dancers. His hair was in slight disarray from the dancing, his cheeks still slightly flushed, and Jaskier wanted him so badly it felt like a wound. He wished he could lace their fingers together as other couples around the square were. Wished he could sit in Geralt’s lap and feed him sweetmeats and honey cakes as the festivities melted away around them. It was difficult to be so close, and yet so far from what he actually desired.

Geralt glanced over at him, and something in Jaskier’s face must have betrayed his sudden turn into maudlin, because he didn’t look away. “Should we go?” Geralt asked, concern drawing his brow together.

Jaskier cursed himself, plastering on another smile. “No, no, dear heart, I’m enjoying myself plenty. The lanterns will probably be lit soon, don’t you think? Maybe we should go find ourselves a spot before the crowd arrives.”

Geralt nodded, still looking a bit worried. It was flattering, that he was clearly concerned about whether Jaskier was having a good time, but it only made him feel more wistful. Not looking to see if his friend was following, Jaskier began to pick his way out of the square, doing his best not to jostle any of the other partygoers. Geralt dogged him like a shadow, and they both emerged some minutes later in the silvery moonlight of the river walk.

Already Jaskier could see the bridge, some ways away to their left, dotted with lantern lights. The procession had made its way back. He stepped up to the edge of the river, leaning against the low wall that held the city back from its edge. Geralt stayed a step or two behind him, arms crossed against the chill. “This will be a good spot,” Jaskier said, leaning over the railing to point. “They’ll release them there, so we should be able to see them as they go up.”

“They do this every year?” Geralt asked, voice a low rumble. Now away from the noise of the crowd, it shook Jaskier’s bones.

He nodded. “For the last, hmm, thirty years, I think? The lanterns carry wishes, you see, requests for Melitele. They go up into the heavens, and when they come down they carry her blessing. So they say.”

“Hmm,” Geralt replied. They stood together in silence as the little pinpricks on the bridge became a sea of candlelight, and slowly, one by one, began lifting up into the air. Soon the sky was awash with golden sparks, hovering above them.

Jaskier leaned against the wall, watching the lanterns make their way skyward. “Wish I’d thought to make one ahead of time,” he said wistfully, watching their lights twinkle in the darkness. “I didn’t know we’d be -” He turned to look at Geralt, who was rummaging around in his bag. “What are you doing?”

With a triumphant huff, Geralt found what he was looking for. He presented it to Jaskier with a sheepish looking grin, an unusually bashful look for the witcher. In his palm was a small square of paper and wood, maybe half the size of the other lanterns being set loose from the bridge. “I found someone selling them earlier,” he said, setting the little thing on the ledge of the wall in front of them. “Thought you might want to join in.”

Jaskier clapped his gloved hands together, delighted. “Oh, it’s just adorable,” he said, feeling his grin pull at his cold cheeks. He picked the thing up, cradling it delicately in his cupped hands. The paper sides were decorated with a floral pattern - tulips, or maybe buttercups. Jaskier reached forward towards Geralt. “Would you light it for me?”

Geralt reached out and snapped, the clean sound cutting through the still air. Immediately the paper in Jaskier’s hands began to warm, the little lantern glowing merrily. Carefully, Jaskier made his way to the edge of the river wall and leaned over the side, letting the lantern rest on his flat hands as it grew lighter. After a moment, it lifted gently off of his palms and started to drift skywards.

Geralt stepped up to join him, their shoulders pressing together as they leaned against the railing, watching their little lantern float up to join the sea of others. A wave of golden light blanketed the city, giving the river an otherworldly glow as it reflected the sky. Jaskier sighed happily, allowing Geralt’s constant warmth to wash over him. He turned to comment on the spectacle, but his words died on his lips as he found Geralt already looking at him. The warmth of the lanterns reflected in his eyes as well, making them glow with their own light in the darkness. Jaskier’s breath caught in his throat, his cheeks warming.

“This was nice,” Geralt said, his voice pitched low. The rumble of it sent a shiver up Jaskier’s spine. They were so close together, and Jaskier found himself turning into Geralt’s heat like a flower to the sun.

“Y-yes,” he stuttered, a beat too late. “It’s always a pleasure to spend an evening with you, my friend.”

Geralt hummed, a distracted noise, and lifted his bare hand up to Jaskier’s jaw. “Oh,” Jaskier said, surprise and confusion and clamouring hope blossoming in his chest, and then Geralt was kissing him.

It was a chaste little thing, but Jaskier felt himself light up at the touch. His own hands came up to grasp Geralt’s hips, the gloves or the shock making him clumsy. Geralt hummed again, a wickedly satisfied sound that made Jaskier shudder embarrassingly. He tasted like mulled wine and cinnamon, the taste lingering on Jaskier’s lips as they pulled away.

He stared at Geralt for a moment before clearing his throat. “What, erm. What was that for?”

Geralt gazed at him fondly, a thumb skating over Jaskier’s cheekbone. He knew it must be warm to the touch. “I wanted to,” he said, shrugging. “And it’s the customary way to end a romantic outing, I’m told.”

Jaskier blinked at him. “Romantic outing?”

Geralt’s head tilted to the side, giving Jaskier a confused look. “What did you think this was?”

“Oh,” Jaskier said again. “Oh!” He pulled a hand away from Geralt’s side to slap over his own forehead, feeling both extraordinarily foolish and giddy. “God’s above, this was a date?”

Geralt’s expression shuttered slightly, and his fingers slipped from Jaskier’s cheek to his shoulder. “You didn’t realize.”

Jaskier leaned forward, desperate to wipe the nervous look from Geralt’s face. He wrapped his own hands around Geralt’s neck, squeezing the base of his skull slightly. “I’m sorry, dearest, I didn’t, but I am delighted. Ecstatic, overjoyed, elated, euphoric, exultant -”

Geralt laughed, cutting him off. “Alright, I get it. You’re happy.”

“More assuredly so,” Jaskier agreed, grinning. He felt lighter than he had in years, floating on a bubble of joy. “Though I will say, we will probably need to go on another ‘romantic outing’ to be sure we do it right. I won’t have our first real date be one I wasn’t even aware of.”

Geralt leaned back in, his lips ghosting over Jaskier’s. The bard shivered, anticipation making his breath come faster. “I don’t know that I would mind that either,” he said, and then his lips found Jaskier’s once again. Jaskier laughed into the kiss, and knew that there would be many more chances for the perfect date to come.

#geraskier #the witcher #witcher #geraltxjaskier #geralt/jaskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #geralt #fan fiction #fanfiction #fic #my work #witcher fic #sugar-and-spice-witcher-bingo #sugar and spice #s&s

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melzula · 4 years ago

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Refined Taste

pairing: Zuko x Princess!reader

notes: an anon requested some more Iroh and Princess content so I delivered hehe

~ part of the fire lilies series ~

The soft whistle of the boiling tea pot is a welcomed sound that brings you a great sense of peace and comfort as you work in the kitchen of the Jasmine Dragon. Few customers occupy the shop as they sit and chat over cups of tea and mini cakes— a limited time only delicacy curtesy of the Chief of the Southern Water Tribe— and with a lull in the crowd after a very busy day at work, you’re happy to spend your free time chatting away with Iroh.

Today marked the fourth day of Zuko’s much needed slumber, so while you waited for him to wake you spent your time revisiting old friends and places in Ba Sing Se. You said hello to Miss Tai and bought three new dresses to help support her small business, you went out for a pleasant lunch date with Jin, and, something you were admittedly embarrassed about doing, you spent your evenings wistfully gazing out your window in hopes of spotting the Blue Spirit. It was odd being back in the place that held some of your happiest and some of your darkest memories, but you loved it all the same. During the day you made sure to check on Zuko as he slept, and when your presence was no longer needed you made yourself useful by helping Iroh run the Jasmine Dragon.

The events that had occurred in Yu Dao had almost been disastrous, but with the help of Katara and the residents of the colony Aang was finally able to see that Zuko had been right all along. You stayed on the sidelines just as you had told Zuko you would, it wasn’t your place to interfere, but now that things had settled and King Kue was willing to negotiate you would be attending the meeting as a representative for the South and to offer any aid you could. However, such a council could not take place until Zuko awoke, and so you found yourself in the company of Uncle Iroh.

“I don’t even want to imagine what my nephew’s life would be like without your courage and support,” Iroh says over the boiling water. “Thank you again for bringing him to me, y/n. Spirits know he wouldn’t have come on his own, he’s too stubborn.”

“Well, I did have some help from Aang,” you admit with a quiet laugh, “but you don’t need to thank me. I love Zuko, and I’ll always look out for his best interests.”

“So you’ve proven time and time again. He is lucky to have you, you know. Very lucky.”

“Thank you, Uncle,” you smile, gazing down bashfully at the sleeves of your dress. “But Zuko’s also lucky to have you.”

“He is lucky to have both of us. I mean, we are an excellent team,” Iroh says with a wink. Your shared laughter quiets at the sound of careful footsteps making their way into the room, and you feel your heart swell with love and adoration at the sight of a sleepy Zuko standing in the kitchen doorway.

“Well, look who finally decided to wake up!”

“Hi sleepyhead,” you say with a smile, rising from your seat to meet him halfway. Zuko is grateful for your touch as you rest a hand upon his cheek and press your lips against his own in a delicate kiss. You taste of honey and ginger, your intoxicating scent of fire lilies invading his senses, and though Zuko wishes he could kiss you with fervency, he settles for one last lingering kiss before finally parting from you; making out in front of his Uncle is something he’d rather not do, so he composes himself.

“How are you feeling?” Iroh asks, watching with an amused smile on his face as you and Zuko immediately cling to each other. Your arms wind around one another and hold each other close, and the love you share is enough to warm the old man’s heart. Yes, Zuko is in very good hands.

“Better,” Zuko notes faintly, “but tired.”

“I’ll make you a nice cup of green tea to wake you up a bit,” the man says as he immediately gets to work.

“Let’s go sit down,” you suggest, taking Zuko’s hand and guiding him towards one of the empty tables in the shop. He seats himself with a yawn and smiles gratefully as you take off your warm shawl and drape it over his shoulders before pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek. “Hungry? There’s still some mini cakes left over.”

“Are there any strawberry cakes?” He asks with a meek smile.

“But of course! What kind of girlfriend would I be if I didn’t make my boyfriend his favorite kind of mini cakes? I’ll be right back.”

“Thank you,” Zuko calls after your retreating form, hearts in his eyes as he watches you disappear behind the curtains. Would it be selfish of him to ask you to be his Fire Lady right now?

Iroh leaves the kitchen with a pot of tea just as you walk in to fetch Zuko his cake. You make sure to grab the one with the most strawberries and extra frosting, the way he likes it, and set it neatly onto a plate before returning to your beloved. Aang is now seated across from him, and so you say nothing as you place his food before him and sit down beside Zuko.

“—Since Roku’s my past life, in a way you’re my family, Zuko. And no matter how hard I’ve tried, I’ve never been able to detach myself from those sorts of bonds,” Aang laments. “It’s a flaw, I know, but it’s one I’ve decided to accept, for this life at least.”

“You’re not the one who’s flawed, Aang,” Zuko sighs. “Why can’t the struggle get easier for me? Even just a little? Sometimes I wonder how long I’ll last.”

He doesn’t meet your gaze when the confession leave his lips, but the way in which Zuko reaches over and tightly grabs hold of your hand is enough. Your heart breaks at his words and you desperately wish you could ease his pain and worries, but you know that being here by his side is enough for now. And you’ll be by his side whenever he needs you to be.

“You know, in that dream, a woman stood with us on that mountaintop watching from the shadows. I think she was my mother...”

“Sometimes, dreams are the way a person’s spirit reveals the answer to his own problems,” Iroh notes wisely. Then, with a humorous smile on his face, “but, then again, sometimes they are just the result of eating spicy food before going to bed.”

“Maybe finding my mother would connect me to a part of my heritage that isn’t so murky and confusing,” Zuko notes thoughtfully. “Maybe then I’d finally find peace. I’ve never told anyone this, but right after I became Fire Lord I sent out search party after search party looking for her. I even hired June and her shirshu. They all came back empty handed. What can I do now that I haven already tried?”

“It’s a new world, Zuko. You need to take some new risks,” Aang says wisely.

“We all do,” you agree, your mind already beginning to drift elsewhere as you calculate how long you can stay away from home without being missed too much.

“Speaking of risks,” Iroh cuts in with a smile as he presents three glass of odd looking to your trio, “why don’t you all try this brand-new beverage I invented?”

“What is it?” You ask curiously, taking the glass Zuko hands to you and swirling the odd looking balls at the bottom of it with your straw.

“Well first, I cook tapioca balls until they’re soft and tender. Then I put them in the tea, where they sit like little pearl-sized snacks at the bottom of each cup! Add a little milk and— ta-da!— a revolution in tea is born!”

Zuko and Aang share uneasy glances with each other before slowly taking sips from their glasses only to immediately cringe the moment the tapioca balls hit their their tongues.

“What is that trying to sneak into my mouth?!” Zuko exclaims after promptly spitting out the pearls.

“Wow,” Aang chuckles nervously, “I’ve never had tea that’s quite so... chewy.”

“It seems I am a man ahead of my time,” Iroh says sadly, his eyes casted downward to the floor. However, the noisy sound of a straw directs all attention towards the smiling Princess and interrupts his bout of sadness. Oblivious to the gazes of your friends set upon you, you happily suck the last of your tea from the glass until it’s completely empty. It’s only once your drink is gone do you finally notice the strange looks sent your way by Zuko and Aang.

“What?” You retort with furrowed brows. “It’s really good.”

“Finally, someone with taste!” Iroh exclaims happily at your praise. “It appears I am a revolutionary after all.”

“You actually like that stuff?” Zuko says flabbergasted.

“It’s just tea, but different,” you shrug, grinning when Zuko hands you his leftover drink to finish for him. “However, the only thing I would add is some ice. It tastes better cold.”

“Genius!” The tea maker compliments, watching in awe as you bend ice cubes of your own to plop into the glass. “Y/n, you must come to the Jasmine Dragon more often, I could use your refined taste.”

“‘Refined’ is a strong word,” Zuko murmurs only for you to elbow his side. “Ow! What did I say?”

“I’d be happy to, Uncle,” you say with a sweet smile.

“I think I know who the new favorite is,” Aang jokes only for Zuko to roll his eyes. However, he can’t help the smile that grows on his face as he watches you and his Uncle interact together. It was safe to say you hadn’t made a good impression on his sister or his father, but the only thing Zuko really cared about was his Uncle, and from what he could see the two of you were like peas in a pod. Faintly, Zuko wondered if you would be the same way with his mother.

“What are you thinking about?” You whisper to the Fire Lord, immediately taking notice of his far off look.

“About you,” Zuko admits to your surprise, “and how much I love you. And how I’m really glad you’re here.”

Heat spreads its way across your face and you smile bashfully at his profession, resting your head upon his shoulder as you converse with Aang. Though Zuko hates to keep you away from home longer than you need to be, he knows he’ll need your help with something else. But before he can ask you, there’s one person he still needs to see before he can begin his next journey.

He needs to talk to Azula.

| tags: @rainteslerrrr @simpinforsukka @sirkekselord @protect-remus @oddment-niwit-blubber-tweak @thebluelcdy @royahllty @the-firebender-girl @coldlilheart @ilovespideyyy @yiyibetch @eridanuswave @lammello @a-monsters-love @knaite-solo @draqondance @taeeemin @user12345321 @just--artemis--with--ghost @titaniafire @dekahg @emberislandplayers @kikaninchen-2 @lozzybowe @izzieserra @melacholy @music-geek19 @thia-aep @thyunnamed @haylaansmi @nataliahaslosthershit @idkdude776 @aangsupremacy @thirstyforsometea @ihaveaproblem98 @brown-eyed-thang @djskfkdkkf @xapham @yeetletzgetitjae @misnmatchedsox @chewymoustachio @that-bucket-hat-gal @chilifrylizard2 @kyomihann @kaylove12 @kiwihoee @freggietale @neighborhoodpansexualdisaster @noodlesfluffy @moon-spirit-yue @bubblegum-bee-otch

#avatar: the last airbender #zuko #prince zuko #zuko x reader #prince zuko x reader #zuko imagine #prince zuko imagine #uncle iroh #iroh #aang #aang x reader #zuko and the princess #avatar the last airbender #atla #atla x reader #atla imagine #the promise #fire lilies

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incorrect-ikevamp-quotes · 4 years ago

Note

Heyyyy! SO as a local comteologist- okay sorry lmao 😂 I was wondering! Could you maybe write about an mc that is very affectionate? Because I am like that and I would give my ALL and just everything for someone I love. So, maybe the guys are pretending to be asleep and they hear mc admitting her undying love for them? I don't want to burden you! So, I think Will, Jean, Leo and Napoleon would be fine :D

I love you! And please take care of your self cuz corona is a hondje- sorry lmao

Have all of my uwus my lovely, I relate HIGHKEY I’m ungodly affectionate irl~

You take care of yourself too! Tyty 💖💖💖 nothing to apologize for I love a good clowning, esp if Theo gets clowned in the process 😂😂

And never apologize for using my esteemed title I will die on this Comte-thirsting hill (☆｀• ω •´)ｂ

I hope these attempts bring you joy!

William Shookspeare:

Our v creative playwright boy was just vibin’. He had a long day at the (obnoxious thespian voice) theater and while he loves the art with all of his being, the man is t i r e d. MC was late to bed and while he prefers to wait for her to join him no he is not horny perish the thought he just started dozing off from the exhaustion. He’s not sure when the lights go out, but he feels an immeasurable warmth around him. Faintly, he can make out a voice murmured at his ear, a gentle hand running through his hair. (I s2g if this bih says “Puck?” I’m gonna smack him for MC)

“Had a long day, hm?” He’s only just coming to, and can’t muster the energy to reply or open his eyes. “I’m sure this next performance will be the best one yet! You surprise me every day, Will...”

“Try not to work yourself too hard, sweetheart. Your work may one day be the world’s greatest marvel.”

He wasn’t sure what it was about the words that made his lips tremble. Was it the praise that always seemed to flow forth at a moment’s notice, the real kind he was so unaccustomed to? Or was it that unshakeable calm; her faith in him unmoved by any fear or doubt--the kind that made him wonder briefly if she was dull all those years ago. Now he was just thankful it was still here, no matter how undeserving he may be.

“But you will always be my entire world, my greatest marvel. I love you too much to let the world have you.”

Jeanne D’Arc (REEEEEE MY GOODEST BOY OTL):

It was early one morning, frost blossoming in fractals along the transparent surface of the bedside window. An inevitable, biting chill lingers in the room while the sun is fighting to climb past the horizon, its time so limited in these winter months. She watches as the light casts a gentle gray over the bare walls--something she promised to remedy soon--so reminiscent of how he appeared to her at first. Pure and bright, but still fighting off a darkness she knew so little about.

The thought made her draw him to her protectively, careful not to wake him up as she tucked him close to her heart. He was so warm, even despite the frigid weather. A product of his time as a soldier? She was never sure, but she was always touched by how often he used that warmth in service to her.

She remembered earlier the other day, when she returned home from some grocery shopping with Sebas. Concern was overflowing from his stoic face--it was there if you knew where to look for it; his eyes a little more narrow, the line of his mouth closer to a frown. All at once his hands were reaching for hers, relieving her of whatever she allowed him to carry while walking into the kitchen alongside her. When Sebas stepped out again he took her hands in his, pressing them along his face. She had cried out, knowing her hands were freezing--it had to be painful to warm them in such a way. But he only smiled that beautiful smile to quell her distress, the one that always took her breath away, and insisted he could do no less.

“The same goes for me too, though, Jeanne.” she looked at the fierce mark on his face, so unworthy of someone so gentle. She resisted every urge to soothe her fingers across it, loathe to wake him up. She didn’t notice the fingers that twitched at her hip, his signs of stirring subtle. “Whenever you need me, whenever you can’t think of a good reason to walk out of this room. All you need to do is find me, okay? I love you so, so much.”

Leonardo Da Binchi (no i will not apologize. he deserves to be clowned, glorious moron):

Once again her lover was gloriously strewn across the library floor, arms crossed and fast asleep. An exasperated smile found her face at the sight. Perhaps it would have been a surprise at first, but nowadays she would just roll her eyes and walk past. Sometimes, if she was feeling forlorn or a little reckless, she would climb into his lap just as he was. He seemed to enjoy being woken up that way though, so of course she couldn’t give him the satisfaction every time; a woman likes to change things up. And sometimes she was too busy to spare the time.

Even so, the slowly dimming shadows under his eyes were a relief to see. While the celebration of his birthday could only be a blessing, she knew what a double-edged blade it could be. It invoked so many wounds that hadn’t yet healed. While she wished he would share that burden with her--however heavy it may be--she slapped her own cheeks lightly at the impatient thought. Give him time...

“I know you think you have to carry everything alone. And in some ways, it’s something I admire so much about you--the way you always seem to know just how to move forward. Like nothing can shake you.”

She leaned down close to him, bracing herself against the bookshelf as she pressed a kiss gently against his temple. “But know that whenever you find yourself wavering, or even if you just need a place to rest, I’m right here. I’ll always be right here. I love you so much more than you think, Leonardo...”

She stopped herself before she could finish the thought, knowing it wasn’t what he wanted to hear: “more than my own life.”

Napoleon Bonaparte (oh my little lion man...):

They were spending a nice afternoon in the courtyard, as a lovey-dovey couple do, and they went under the veranda to find some relief from the midday sun. Surprising literally no one, our sweet emperor started to doze after some yummy tea time snackies--drifting asleep against MC’s shoulder. She adjusted a bit to change the angle of the lean, making sure he wasn’t putting too much pressure on his neck. Little puffs of air made her bangs flutter as he breathed low and even, and she smiled.

He’d had a guard jobs back to back recently, which meant precious little time to spend with him. Restless and quieter than usual, she had suggested a little stroll together around the courtyard; admiring the flowers and telling him about the books she’d been reading to fill the silence of those lonely nights. It wasn’t long before he started to smile more, snickering when she gave ludicrous summaries of the characters and plot.

Early that morning she had taken the time to make perfect tea time sweets, fully anticipating--and hoping--it would encourage him to rest. So often he would be worried about her missing out on things or trying to plan more elaborate dates, but if she were honest she didn’t care much for extravagance or constant excitement. These tender moments where he could trust her (and the mansion’s perimeter) enough to fall fast asleep, no nightmares in sight, was enough to fill her heart with so much joy.

“I know you can’t help but want to do everything you can for the people around you; protecting and serving others is your life. I never want to be a reason you feel you need to stop doing that.” She murmured in the silence, playing with the buttons on his coat with a faint smile. “But even so, remember you always have a home to return to. More than that, no matter how powerful or skilled; you’re also one man. A man I love more than anything else in this world, a man I always want by my side--if he’ll have me, that is.”

She took the hand that was entwined with her own, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of his palm as his lashes trembled. “I love you, Leon. Whether I see you every moment of every day, or only in stolen moments between assignments. That will never change. There will be times where you belong to the whole world, but this” she placed a hand gently over his heart “will always belong to me. Let it lead you home to me, sweetheart.”

And because I can’t help myself, I added Comte, Mozart and Vincent:

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (he’s the melody I can’t get out of my head DON’T LOOK AT ME):

Despite all of his promises to quit his bad habits, she opened the door later that evening to find him fast asleep against the covered keys of the piano. His shock of white hair was nestled comfortably against his arms, piled together as a makeshift pillow. The sight made her think of those long, long nights in college; thinking you’d close your eyes for a minute--only to be adrift in seconds.

Smiling wryly, she reached into a nearby closet to retrieve a blanket before draping it gently across his shoulders. Torn between waking him up and guiding him to bed or leaving him be, she decided on the latter. She got the feeling that waking him up would only mean “a few more minor edits” to the composition he was working on, leaving sleep an afterthought. While she knew he often couldn’t help himself, she didn’t want him neglecting his health all the same.

She’d be back with some hot chocolate in a few hours, just how he liked it.

As she was about to slip back out of the room, the hand at his elbow clumsily grasped for hers resting on the covered keys. Heat bloomed across her face, ears burning as he clung to her warmth.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.” She sat down on the piano bench carefully, trying not to jostle him awake. “Your music will never stop being the most beautiful and soulful sound I’ve ever heard. But even a mind as impressive as yours needs plenty of rest--even more so, I’d wager. You work yourself too hard sometimes, Wolfie.” She leaned until her shoulder brushed his, “But I’ll always be here to make sure you don’t overdo it too much. Sweet dreams my only love.”

Vincent van Gogh (he’s babie your honor):

MC was on her laundry rounds, Vincent’s aprons now thoroughly washed and folded for his use once again. She knocked on the door murmuring a greeting--though fully anticipated he might not respond. While he was usually so sweet and attentive, it was almost like he became an entirely different person when painting. Utterly serious, intensely focused; any attempts at speaking to him would require many tries before he came back to himself with a beaming smile.

She sighed dreamily, easily picturing it. His eyes would always be stunning, a cerulean to rival the calm waters of the Mediterranean Sea. But in the midst of his greatest passion? They burned bright enough to make her forget the rest of the world existed.

Trying not to embarrass herself on unsteady feet, she opened the door cautiously to find his easel abandoned. Shocked, she scanned the rest of the room until she found him strewn across the couch; a blanket haphazard in its provision of cover. With a gentle smile she stored away the fresh aprons in the dresser before she approached him, kneeling close to the couch so that she could tuck him in properly.

He let out a pleased little huff before shifting slightly in his sleep, body angled in her direction. There was a faint smile on his lips, evidence of what was likely a pleasant dream or peaceful rest. She traced the outline of his ear cuff with insatiable fingers, eyes glistening a little when he nuzzled into the faint touch--trapping her between his cheek and his arm.

“You’re more precious to me than anything else in this world, Vince,” the murmur was barely audible, he didn’t stir. “I can’t imagine my life without you, and if I’m honest--no part of me really wants to imagine it. This warmth is the greatest gift I’ve ever known; thank you for choosing to share it with me. I love you so much, sweetheart.”

Le Comte de Saint Germain (SAN GERUMAN HAKKSHAKKU):

Every day is a long ass day when you have 10+ children (yes, Leonardo, you are in that child count I hope you’re happy >:| ). For all his half-hearted complaints about the exhaustion and noisiness though, he loves his bubs, and wouldn’t have things any other way.

Even so, it doesn’t stop the delighted giggling that shakes her shoulders when she finds him fast asleep in his favorite armchair. His tie is undone and askew, head lolling to the side--any attempt at his usual poise long forgotten. While she most often found him to be charming and delightful, she loved it even more when he felt comfortable sharing these parts of himself too.

She set aside the tea she would always have prepared at this hour and reached for the coat he had draped across the opposite chair, settling it carefully over his form. Resisting every urge to join him--Sebas would need her help preparing dinner--she carded a hand through his hair, tucking it behind his ear so it wouldn’t tickle him while he was asleep.

He was so lovely like this, face unmarred by the weight of several lifetimes that found him when he was awake. No matter how early she rose when they were together, she rarely ever got the privilege of seeing him a little drowsy, lost to rest as he was now. She brushed light kisses to his eyelids, smiling when he half-sighed her name.

“Tuckered yourself out did you? You big worrywart.” She resisted the urge to find his hand and entwine it with hers. “I promise to watch over them, so rest easy, my dearest love.” She played with the collar, tucking him in further. “I know everyone here is precious to you. But remember that you’re the most important person in my life too,” she leaned her forehead gently against his. “While I love to see everyone get along, I love to see you happy and well-rested even more. You’ll always be the only one for me, [insert Comte’s real name].”

Bonus continuation because I still can’t help myself apparently, somebody please take my laptop away from me:

Arms like steel bands enclosed her in his embrace, a sleepy exhale washing over her ear as she shivered a little at the sudden warmth.

“Mm, ma cherie, surely you didn’t think you’d get away with that kind of teasing...”

“But I wasn’t teasing you! I was completely serious.”

Laughter shook his chest and hers too, making her melt at the undisguised affection in the hands that settled her close to his heart.

“Then you must be punished for such foul play. To think you would ruthlessly attack me while asleep, bien-aime.”

“And how might I atone for this egregious indiscretion?”

She could feel him smile against her shoulder, the rascal. “Stay here a little while longer with me.” As if he had any intention of letting her go. Not that she minded, honestly.

“Threaten me with a good time.” she mumbled, stroking a hand soothingly along his back as they closed their eyes for a while.

A few more minutes couldn’t do any harm, could it?

#asks #ikevamp #ikemen vampire #ikevamp shakespeare #ikevamp jean #ikevamp jeanne #ikevamp leonardo #ikevamp napoleon #ikevamp mozart #ikevamp vincent #ikevamp saint germain #ikevamp comte #ikevamp headcanons #ikevamp hcs #back at it again with that fangdad propaganda #I love him so much oTL #it would be worth getting flicked/chided by Sebas i regret nothing #im so softe chirren (**offkey kazoo** CAAAAN YOU FEEL THE LOVE T O N I G H T)#also though it was probably obvious i am 100% team MC will become a vampy and stay with leo forever someday #i Pretend I Do Not See ikevamp canon #also for the record idk why i went from his perspective to hers after the shakes hc but here we are Welcome To My Twisted Mind #im sorry if that caused any confusion or dissatisfaction with the rest of the writing hasjfgdhskj kind of set a false precedent by accident #anywho please enjoy what my spoons have managed <3333 #now i need to work on that masterlist i promised you all #i do be chugging along slowly but surely #not incorrect quotes #rambles

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forcefulkitten · 4 years ago

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more than enough

[phinks magcub x fem! reader]

summary: Phinks visits you at your place of work and provides more than the favor you’ve asked of him.

warnings: 18+, nsfw, rough sex, office sex

word count: 2,444

Today is not your day. Everything that can go wrong is doing exactly that. You woke up extremely tired, makeup and hair didn’t come out to your liking and you’re swamped with projects to complete at work. Sanity held on a thin string, you nearly burst a blood vessel when your boss asks you, more like tells you, to stay in for your lunch break and prepare a presentation for an unexpected meeting that was just squeezed into schedule.

Furiously grabbing your phone, you send a text over to Phinks. “Phinksy can you please bring me lunch today? Stuck in the office prepping for a meeting.” Turning your attention to the work you have to get done, a few minutes later you’re interrupted by your phone ringing. Phinks on the line, you pinched the bridge of your nose and let out a sigh, preparing yourself to hear an earful. “Babe? What the fuck is going on?” He questioned, frustration evident in his tone. “Boss came in and told me to skip my break because something came up last minute. Please just bring me anything to eat Phinks, I’m having a shit day already as is.” You hear Phinks exhale through the phone before grumbling, “Who the hell do those bastards think they are? I told you to quit that job, it’s not like we need the money anyways. Pfft, whatever, I’ll see you soon.” He ends the call and you're happy to have one thing go your way today, not that you're surprised since it's Phinks who you're asking for help. He’d always complain and make sly remarks about anything you ask, but never tells you no. It became clear over time thats just how he expresses himself. Phinks loves to be your lifeline, the one you turn to when you’re in a bind. You appreciate everything he does, making sure to never take advantage of his kindness.

Concentrating on your work, your focus is completing tasks for the meeting to go smoothly. All of your other projects with upcoming deadlines would have to wait for now. If you attend to everything at once, things won’t get done properly and you’re not a half-ass worker. The presentation for the meeting is coming together sooner than you thought and you start to feel like the rest of the day would take a turn for the best once you add finishing touches.

Your office line rings and you pick up, greeted by the lobby receptionist. “Hello, a blonde-haired gentleman who referred to himself as your boyfriend is making his way up to see you. I tried asking for his name but he stormed off. Please let me know if you’d like for security to intercept.” You apologize for his behavior, cursing yourself for not meeting him downstairs since you know he doesn't give his name out. You stand up and straighten out your clothes, ruffling your hair in an attempt to make yourself look more presentable. His timing is impeccable, arriving right after your coworkers leave for their lunch break.

Phinks knocks before entering, closing the glass door behind him and locking it, which makes the glass turn from clear to frosted, granting you two privacy. Placing your food on a side table, he walks over to you, wrapping his arms around you to bring you into a hug. You wrap your arms around his torso and nuzzle your face into his chest. His hugs are warm, always effective in making you melt into his touch. Looking up into his eyes, you give him a small smile. “Thank you Phinksy. I can always count on you.” Phinks kisses you, resting one hand on your neck and the other on the small of your back to press you closer to him. Biting down on your lip, he slips his tongue into your mouth and the two of you engage in a steamy make out session. Phinks’ hands are roaming your body, squeezing your ass, palming your breast and before long you feel his erection against your stomach. You know you shouldn’t let this escalate any further but Phinks has a way of always getting what he wants. He’s charming and has an aura to him that makes you feel like whatever happens, you’ll be protected because he’s there. All common sense out of the window, you refuse to let the opportunity for him to fuck you in your office slip away.

Phinks leans down, picking you up with his arms hooked under your thighs and places you on your desk. Skirt hiked up with your lacy thong in plain sight, Phinks unbuttons your blouse and takes in how stunning you look. You’re embarrassed given the circumstances and he’s staring at you the same way a predator looks at their prey. He moves closer and goes straight to licking and sucking your neck, one of his hands keeping you in place with a firm grip. The feeling of his tongue abusing your jugular is exciting, making your breath heavy and heat build in your core. Your mind is clouded with arousal and you can’t hide the moans that convince Phinks that you wouldn’t protest to him taking you right here.

He brings his fingers to your cunt, pushing your thong to the side before delving two of his thick fingers into you. He lets out a grunt of approval when his digits slip right in. “Damn babe. You want me to fuck you here? At work? How very unprofessional of you.” His tone is full of lust and still teasing you at the same time. Hooking your fingers in the band of his track pants, you pull him closer and pull them down slightly along with his boxers. His throbbing member springs out, hitting his lower stomach and you eagerly stroke him. Phinks enjoys this momentarily before sliding his boxers and track pants down to his ankles, unzipping his sweater to toss aside and turning his gaze back to you. Generally, he would allow you to take your time with him but there’s none to spare right now. Squeezing your tender breasts, you lean back as he brings his mouth to suck on your pert nipples. Mouth switching between either one, the sensation is going straight to your sex and you whine, ”I don’t have much time.” Smirking against your chest, he releases your nipple with a wet popping sound.

Phinks pulls you by your hips towards the edge of your desk and your legs are spread open, pussy glistening, inviting him to wreck you. Slipping your thong off and meticulously setting it aside, Phinks lines himself up with your entrance. Coating his tip in your essence, he swipes over your clit a few times before sheathing himself all the way into your tight walls, making you gasp at the sudden stretch. He begins thrusting into you harshly, feeling your cunt greedily suck him back in whenever he inches out of you. The office is quiet except the sounds of skin slapping, his grunts and your moans. You pray to whatever gods that you’re the only person who stood behind during lunch or you wouldn’t be able to look your coworkers in the eye after this. His onslaught has too much force behind it, it’s too quick, too deep and you’re trying your best to stifle the obnoxious wails leaving your mouth. Pleading eyes lock with his, “You’re. Going to. Break me. Slow. Down. P-please.” While crying out, your words are met with hard thrusts and to quiet you down he covers your mouth with his hand. Phinks attempts to slow his pace but it quickly picks back up again and much to your dismay, its even worse than before. The sound of your desk shifting against the floor is deafening when it mixes amongst the rest of the noises filling the room. Your arms wrap around him and dig crescents into his muscular shoulders, making him hiss at the sharp pressure. He knows he isn’t going easy on you but he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t appealing to see you willingly come undone right here. He leans his forehead onto yours, staring straight into your soul while ravishing you like this would be the last time he’d ever see you. The fingers of one of his hands squeeze your hip so tight that you’ll undoubtedly feel it for the next few days. He releases his hold over your mouth when he realizes that drool is beginning to coat his palm, allowing you to take a much needed breath of air into your lungs. Suddenly Phinks pulls out, chest rising and falling while he stares at you with hunger in his eyes. The way you look all fucked out in front of him is captivating. He thinks that maybe this job isn’t so bad after all but who is he kidding? He still wants you to quit but seeing your wet folds perched on your desk is enough to stop him from mentioning the topic for some time. Maybe he’d even offer to bring you lunch more often, especially if it meant that you’d end up like this.

Lifting you up as if your weight was that of a feather, a shiver courses through you when your back is pressed against the cold glass that surrounds your office. “It’s not everyday that I get to fuck you at work. Maybe I’ll go thank that boss of yours after this.” Phinks’ arms hold you up by grasping onto your ass, carefully lining you up with his shaft before slamming you down fully. With your legs wrapped around him, the new angle is delicious. You can feel every ridge on his cock and his tip drums against your cervix with every bounce. The way he slides in and out of you with ease and the sensation of his balls slapping against your ass when his hips meet yours has the pit of your stomach in tangles. Your moans are drawn out and Phinks smiles at you when he hears the squelching noises coming from your soaked pussy. Arms that were clinging onto him with all of your strength give out, leaving you to lean your upper back and head against the wall with your arms falling to your sides. Phinks doesn’t struggle to continue holding you up but now his hips are grinding into your heat instead of bobbing you up and down. The added friction from his pelvis brushing against your clit is bringing you closer to your climax. Phinks tugs one of your arms up to his shoulder, guiding you to hold onto him once more. Desperate to quiet your wanton moans, he brings his lips to yours, swallowing your sounds before aggressively exploring your mouth. The coil in your gut snaps soon after, white hot pleasure taking over your vision. The build up made your orgasm hit you all at once and you ride out your high, bucking your hips to take more of Phinks if at all possible. Forgetting about the shitty day you were having before this, you’re so thankful that you have someone as reliable as him in your life.

“You’re so tight woman, I can’t get enough of this.” Phinks sounds frustrated at himself, the motion of his thrusts are becoming erratic and you know he’s close to his end. His stamina is off the charts, normally lasting way longer than this. The chance of being caught is thrilling, and that alone has him tuckered out already. He leans his chest into you as close as he can, pressing your body into the glass as he bucks into you. You’re folded like a pretzel, whimpering and moaning all while being worried that the glass might break. The way your pussy is still clenching around him from your orgasm and the sheer amount of slick between you coating his cock is sending him over the edge. Phinks untangles your legs from around his waist and brings them to hook over his shoulders. One hand holding you by the cuff of your ass and the other on your waist over your bunched skirt, he slowly sinks you down onto him. You brace your arms on his forearms since he has complete control in this position, your back no longer being supported by the glass wall. Phinks shifts you up and down as slowly as he could while rolling his hips into you when he’s fully buried inside. His eyes are glued on your form. The way your breast bounce is mesmerizing. How you fit perfectly around his length. The way your eyes look into his with so much reliance. Your lips ajar from the heaves leaving your chest. You’re shocked and amused at how much restraint he’s showing right now while trying to live in this moment for as long as he can. “Baby, just cum already.” You whisper between breaths. Phinks lets out a guttural moan before shooting ropes of his seed that fill you to the brim. He adores your dedication to squeezing him dry while you move your hips to greedily milk all he has.

Phinks sets you down and your legs feel like spaghetti while you try to balance yourself. You adjust your breast back into your bra and button up your blouse. After pulling your skirt back down into place, you fix the wrinkles in the fabric with your hands. When you turn around to him, he’s already slipped his boxers and track pants up and has his sweater on as well. How the hell isn’t there a single hair out of place on his head? You’re envious of how he looks so collected compared to you. He walks over to you, thong in hand and bends down for you to slip your feet through it. His fingers skim up your thighs towards your sex and he pushes his cum back in that was threatening to dribble out. Once he’s made sure none is going to waste, he pulls your thong up and then instructs you to spin around slowly so he can examine if your outfit is all in place. Phinks brings you into a passionate kiss and also takes the time to mess with your hair to help you look like you working instead of being fucked. “Do you need anything else? Food might be cold now. Sorry.” He has a sheepish grin on his face while scratching the back of his head. “Nope. You’ve done more than enough. Come pick me up later?” You rub your hands up and down his arms, a blush on your face. “Sure, good luck dealing with those corporate idiots.”

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kiirokero · 4 years ago

Text

Nepenthe (KTH)

Nepenthe: A drug used to induce forgetfulness of pain or sorrow; something capable of causing oblivion of grief or suffering.

Part of the “Protect the Village!” Oneshot Series!

Masterlist

Pairing: Baker!Taehyung x Reader

Genre: Fluff, angst if you squint, romance...? Reader has troubles with their emotions and TaeTae tries to help them, ft. a blonde smug Jimin,

Note: Time to sleep. Catch up on writing :)

Summary: Mama always said that sweets give you cavities. But she didn’t warn you about the boy who makes them. Or, having an insatiable sweet tooth has left you spending much of your time in Taehyung’s bakery. But nobody prepared you for the feelings your cold heart caught.

Word Count: 2.4k

Contrary to popular belief, you did have feelings. You felt happy, sad, angry. You were human. But people tended to forget that. Whether it was because you were academically intelligent or you were just an easy target, you were used to... Well, getting used.

You were often the cash cow. The dead horse everyone thought was entertaining to beat. The goose with the golden egg and no farmer would leave you alone before you popped out the next solid gold money maker. And when you gave in and gave them what they wanted, you were the one left behind, high and dry.

Years of being treated like this in college left you emotionally unavailable. You opted to protect yourself from the hurt you felt by not allowing yourself to feel at all. You had built up your walls so thick that you barely allowed yourself to even feel happy half of the time. Many people tried to break down the brick hell you’d banished yourself to, but gave up when the stone didn’t relent. But it's not like you care, right?

You didn’t care that you had nobody to voice your worries to late at night when the self doubting thoughts plagued your mind. You didn’t care that people avoided you because of your frigid nature that left the happy little people in Bangtan Village uncomfortable. So what if you didn’t have anyone to catch you when you fell? You didn’t need anybody.

You just needed your comfort foods.

Yes, maybe it was an unhealthy habit to drown your self hating thoughts in the taste of sugar and cinnamon. Maybe anyone looking into the state of your mental health would cringe at the way you personally dealt with it. Who cares? This was your life and you would live it however the hell you wanted to. You were tired of others dictating you.

So you often found yourself at “Kim’s Confections” sitting in the corner, looking out with window while you ate your danish and sipped your tea. Every single day, whether the sun was up or down, you sat in the same seat, at the same bakery. You changed up the pastry, of course, you could only eat danishes for 3 days straight at most. But the routine of visiting the small shop was one thing that never changed.

As leaves fells and winter came, you visited the bakery. As rain fell and flower bloomed, you visited the bakery. You like the atmosphere the bakery gave off. The aroma of sugar and bread that wafted through the air made your body feel like jello as you could easily fall asleep to the smell. The small wooden tables that were scattered around made the shop feel more personal. The food that never failed to melt in your mouth calmed any tension that seeped into your bones.

But one thing about the bakery that didn’t calm you down was the owner himself.

Kim Taehyung.

Nothing was wrong with Taehyung, per se. He was an attractive guy who always had a friendly, boxy smile on his face. He had beautiful brunette hair and majestic auburn eyes. His skin was always shining, 24/7, always looking like he walked off the cover of a magazine. Even if you gave off a cold, icy aura that screamed “Don’t talk to me,” he never once failed to give you a smile and a warm welcome.

No, you were never purposely mean to Taehyung. You never snapped at him or showed any sort of distaste towards him, because you didn’t have any. He just confused you. Normal people would stop trying to be nice to you by now. Most people would take your less-than enthusiastic responses as rudeness or dislike. Not Taehyung though.

You often asked yourself what was up with him. I mean, who would look at you and think, “Yeah, I’ll give the snow queen a shot,” Nobody. Except Kim Taehyung, apparently. Without fail Taehyung tried to initiate conversations between the two of you that would last more than a few one words answers (Mostly from your side,) He would ask how your day was or what you did over the weekend. To which you would respond with “Good” or “Nothing,”

It’s not that you didn’t want to talk to the guy. He just made you feel... Weird. His smile made your heart quicken. His laugh made your cheeks heat up. Whenever he had his eyes on you, your hands would turn clammy. It just made you feel... uncomfortable. You were used to feeling 2 things, “Bleh,” and “What am I doing with my life,” not some odd feeling of quickened hearts and clammy hands.

But alas, no matter how much you wished to banish the invasive feeling all together, your sweet tooth needed to be satiated. So here you were, standing in front of “Kim’s Confections,” Walking in and chiming the small little bell that hung above the door. The familiar sight of wooden chairs and the glass display case full of confections filled your eyes. But there at the counter was the man himself.

“Hello Y/n! Welcome back!” Taehyung said with a smile on his face, enthusiasm laced in his voice. “Hello,” You said, sounding dead compared to his lively way of speech. “What will it be today, sweetcheeks?” Taehyung smirked, resting his head on his hand as he leaned over the counter. “Don’t call me that,” You said, not liking the heat that made its way onto your face the moment he called you “Sweetcheeks,”

Taehyung chuckled, saying nothing, just gesturing to the glass case of goodies. Taking a look, you noticed your favorite was in stock today. Red velvet cupcakes. “That one, please,” You said, pointing at the mouth-watering pastry. “Coming right up, sweecheeks,” Taehyung smiled. You decided to ignore the endearing nickname, instead trying your best to cool down the heat on the tips of your ears and apples of your cheeks.

Taehyung grabbed the cupcake and put it on a plate for you, sliding it towards you as you handed him the money you’d already fished out of your wallet. “Thanks,” You mumbled, grabbing the plate off of the counter. “Anything for you,” Taehyung smirked. You didn’t say anything else to him as you went to your corner to eat your cupcake.

Hateful to me as the gates of Hades is that man who hides one thing in his heart and speaks another.

You’ve read The Iliad a thousand times before. You know how the adventure ends and what the climax of the story will be. You knew what happened to the characters, and you were well versed in the outdated way of speech. But that didn’t mean you appreciated the interruption of a certain blonde haired male. “What Jimin?” You groaned, putting down your well-worn book, glaring at the man in front of you. “Ah you wound me, Y/n. I just wanted to see you is all,” Jimin shrugged.

“See me? Dumb move,” You countered back, face unchanging. Jimin just chuckled, shaking his head with a smile. “You know, I was talking to Taehyung and he said you barely speak a word to him. That’s surprising since your with him every day,” Jimin smirked, swiping off some stray frosting that laid on your plate and putting it in his mouth. “I have nothing to say,” You said, turning to look outside the window.

Jimin scoffed, “I find that hard to believe. Tae can make anyone talk, do you not like him?” He asked, tilting his head to the side. “I didn’t say that,” Was your immediate answer, debunking Jimin’s dumb theory. “Well, you kinda did,” Jimin teased. “He makes me feel weird,” You admitted, unable to face the man in front of you.

“He makes you feel weird?” Jimin asked, confused.

“He makes my palms clammy and face hot. He’a like a witch or something,” You sighed.

You didn’t know Jimin, no. Jimin was one of Taehyung’s friends who tried even harder than him to get on your “Good side,” When in reality, there was no good side. You were just in a perpetual state of saying “Cool,” and throwing up peace signs at everything life threw at you. So no, you weren’t Jimin’s friend.

So the unimpressed, disdained face you gave him when he burst out laughing at your words wasn’t entirely unwarranted.

“Oh my goodness, you’re funny,” Jimin chuckled out. “What did I say?” You asked. “You have a crush on Tae!” Jimin whisper shouted. Your eyes widened, and you flicked his forehead. “What are we? Twelve? A crush? That’s preschool shit,” You seethed, not allowing yourself to believe what Jimin was saying. “Woah, calm down Y/n. Crushes are normal,” Jimin explained, right before Taehyung came up to grab your empty plate for you.

“Did you enjoy the cupcake?” Taehyung said in his deep baritone voice that made goosebumps rise on your skin. You nodded your head yes, avoiding looking right into his eyes. “I’m glad,” Taehyung whispered to you, giving you a smile as he walked back to the kitchen with your plate. You watched him go the whole way.

“Scratch that, your head over heels,” Jimin spoke up, and you whipped your head around to glare at him. “Shut it,” You spoke through gritted teeth, gathering your book and purse, standing up to leave. “I don’t have a crush. That’s childish,” You countered, but Jimin just gave you a knowing look, a smirk plastered on his face.

You never missed a day to visit the bakery. But maybe you should’ve today. It was pouring outside. Thunder rumbled through the air and lighting flashed through the sky. You were without an umbrella or anything to protect you from the rainy onslaught that was happening outside the shop.

Sighing, you flipped through the pages of The Iliad. You had just finished the story another time, and the epic was still too fresh in your mind to begin reading again. So you sat in your corner, listening to the pounding of rain that rammed against the shop windows.

“It’s pouring out there, huh?”

Taehyung’s soft, deep voice cut through the rain ambiance that filled the tiny shop. You nodded, tearing your eyes away from him and suppressing the thoughts of his muscular figure from your mind. “Do you have someone coming to pick you up? I don’t want you walking out in that,” He asked, coming to sit in the seat in front of you.

“I don’t,” You answered, avoiding his gaze. “Really? No boyfriend coming to sweep you off of your feet?” He chuckled. You shrugged, picking at the edges of your book. “I’m not girlfriend material,” You sighed, finally looking up to meet his gaze. “Not girlfriend material?” Taehyung asked, furrowing his eyebrows. “I just have too much baggage, I guess,” You shrugged.

Taehyung chuckled, “Everyone has baggage, Y/n,” Was his answer, looking right into your eyes with his deep auburn ones. “I guess,” You mumbled. The two of you sat in silence for a couple of minutes, just listening to the sound of the rain outside as the two of you just enjoyed each other’s presence without the other knowing it.

“I think you’re girlfriend material,” Taehyung spoke up suddenly, startling you out of the thoughts that swirled around your mind. “Ha ha,” You sarcastically laughed, but Taehyung doubled down. “I’m serious, Y/n,” He said, leaning forward on the table. “No I’m not,” You argued, shaking your head at what you believed was a ridiculous claim.

“Why do you think that?” Taehyung asked, but you didn’t respond, feeling the walls you meticulously built start to crumble. That scared you. You’ve always been focused on others trying to force your walls down, but you never thought about what it would be like for someone to urge you to bring them down yourself. To want to willing talk about the thoughts that plagued your mind. To let someone cozy up with you inside your walls. It was scary how you wanted to talk to Taehyung.

You didn’t know what it was about Taehyung that made you want to let him in and turn your hell into a sanctuary. Maybe it was because he was always so nice. Or maybe it was because he made the best comfort food you’d every have. Whatever it was about him, he was starting to get through to you, and it scared you more than you’d like to admit. So you shut down.

Taehyung kept asking you why you thought that or what made you think that you were any less than amazing, but you just kept shaking your not wanting to open your mouth in fear that you’d spill out all of your emotions like a hangover full of regrets and puke.

You heard Taehyung sigh as he got up from the chair. You felt your heart squeeze at the thought of him finally giving up on you. You knew it was a bit selfish to expect him to stick around after you gave him no reason to, but it still hurt. You were so out of tune with your emotions that you had a hard time identifying what was what.

Was this disappointment? It’s been a long time old friend.

Was Jimin right? Am I in love? Is this what love feels like?

A hand placed a plate with a cinnamon roll on it in front of you. The aroma of cinnamon filled your nose, and you cracked a small smile at it. Taehyung sat back down in the seat in front of you, giving you a warm smile. “You don’t have to push yourself to answer,” Taehyung spoke up, “I don’t know exactly how you feel, but my friend, Yoongi, is like you.” He smiled as you took a bite of the cinnamon roll. “He says that talking to others about feelings is a monumental task, so don’t feel obligated to answer my question. You have your walls for a reason, Y/n. It’s up to you if you want to let me in. But I will say, I’m waiting at the door with cookies.”

At his words, you gave him a sincere smile. The first sincere smile he’d ever seen from you and you could tell by his huge, boxy one that it made him happy. “Thank you, Taehyung,” You said. “Anything for you, sweetcheeks,” Okay, so maybe your heart was a bit cold. Maybe the thick walls you built around yourself prevented you from properly processing your feelings. Maybe Jimin was right and the clammy hands and giddy feeling you got from being around Taehyung was love.

But right now, the two of you didn’t care.

Because you were in the middle of your first genuine conversation.

#kim taehyung #taehyung #bts v #bts #bts oneshot #taehyung x reader #bts fluff

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remsmoonlight · 4 years ago

Text

— title : weekend simplicities

— word count : 1.2 k words

— pairing : john wick x reader

— summary : you and john savour a piece of normality that isn’t associated usually associated with him

note : im super nervous about posting now because im still getting back into writing but here’s a little something im sorry oops

Sharp rays from the winter sun awoke your comforting slumber, you had become used to these mornings over time. Mornings that held such a peace and a state of tranquility, your mind swiftly consumed by the warmth from the sheets and the sleeping body that held you in his arms. You shift slightly, to be able to turn back and gaze at the face of the man you had grown to love so profoundly, it had occurred so subtly it was just like magic.

You smile as you take in his features, it was so rare for you to see him so vulnerable and at ease -- you didn’t know what it was that kept John so tense, he always said he would tell you one day when you both were ready for it. Despite your curiosity, you accepted it. You slide yourself gradually from the embrace and the security of the thick sheets, you move to go about your morning routine as quietly as you possibly could.. Especially as you had turned the alarm off. It was a weekend and you thought it would be beneficial for him to get a few more hours of rest, your concern growing from the constant early mornings and lengthy days wearing him rugged.

It often pains you to see the weariness he tries to hide so well, especially as he’d turned your life around in so many ways. You had thought yourself fine, that you were happy with how everything had turned out, but it was not until you both met on that rainy day in the middle of New York was that the beginning of you seeing the world in a new burst of colour.

Officially, you both still lived apart, however you ended up spending many of your days and nights there after finishing work or spending time with friends. It has become your home too, an unspoken truth between the two of you. A silent fact the both of your cherish close to your hearts.

After you spent time in the shower, you dress and wrap yourself up warm in an oversized winter coat, accompanied by a wooly hat and scarf. Stepping out into the front yard with his dog -- you asked many times if the sweet thing would ever be given a name -- never did you receive a yes or no, you find yourself thankful it wasn’t too cold. December had just begun, the bite the cool air has is not yet sharp enough to turn you back inside.

“ come on! you wanna play? “ you call out to the dog, you can see the excitement in his eyes already as you throw the ball a short distance away.

The excitement and energy from the playful animal is infectious as you find yourself giving into the simple joy of running around and just playing, you imagine you appear incredibly silly and frivolous but you find it hard to awaken a care in the world. You live for these lazy days where you find your mind is free from the cloud of commitments, you can just relax with those you love and simply.. have fun. Oftentimes you would find yourself at work feeling plagued by all that you had to do, of course it melted away when you’re in your element which is your comfort space.

Treading lightly was a skill that had long ago been mastered, it had to be in order to have accomplished what he had done in his years, the blood that stained his hands is permanently dyed into his coarse fingertips that had known nothing but death and violence until one thing -- he met you. From his position he stares at your playful form from the large window, as he often did, wondering just how he has been so fortunate to have been so lucky for you to see humanity still left within him and trust him so explicitly that you showed your darkest moments to him.

“ you didn’t wake me. “

A growing smile paints your features as you hear the voice behind you, turning you meet his gaze.

“ well , I thought you needed the rest. “ you respond, throwing the ball once more before you take large steps towards John.

Once again arms wrap around you in a gentle caress, you savour the feeling now that you’re both awake and alert. There is a lack of hesitancy in your relationship now, you both are more confident with the other.. the two of you in sync, it was a simplicity that is so genuine and uncomplicated.

“ you don’t have to worry about me. “ he assures you quickly, amusement indenting in his expression. The male thinks to himself if only you knew how true that statement was.

“ it’s in my nature, I can’t help it. “

Fingertips sink further inwards into the material that is protecting your body from the frigid elements that are still making their way into the city. It’s as if John is doing it to remind himself of the fact you are still there and that you are, in fact, real. The patter of steps as they thud against the greenery that has begun to break through the frost of the morning, your attention has been pulled towards the visibly excited dog.

The minutes swiftly turn into hours, as time always would.. it has become a continuous habit as it begins losing itself when you are wrapped up in each other’s company, as if all the commitments you have just dissipate into a realm of nothingness. There’s no pressure to conform or to bow down to expectations, it’s just the two of you with a pet you adore. You feel as if that is his superpower, that he may not even be human because what kind of person can make you feel so at ease whenever you’re near them? He never fails to fill your heart with an intense solace that no other relationship has been able to do so before.

It isn’t long before you feel the warmth of the house, with John close behind you.

There’s an easy quietness that blankets over you, neither of you wanting to break it. Oftentimes this would happen, but it was a comfortable silence who’s void needed not to be filled, but rather, acknowledged. John is not a man of words, but actions - perhaps this is why you feel so secure with him, sickly sweet words are easy to spill, but the burden is to dedicate strength to uphold them.

“ what are you thinking about? “ he questions you, sitting beside you on the plush sofa.

“ as cheesy as it sounds, how lucky I am to have you. “

“ I’m flattered, actually. “

You turn to meet his sight, a faint shade of pink dusting your cheeks as if they were a blood relative of the outgoing night sky that welcomes dawn and the pale hues that come with it as it brings the morning sun with it.

“ why? “ your brows crease, you could hear the humour in his tones, a playful John Wick isn’t one you are overly used to.

The confusion in your voice brings an endearing smile to John’s lips, the way your features contort at the turn of conversation amuses. A larger hand inches steadily to enclose your smaller one with the most gentlest touch you have ever felt grace your skin. “ because i think the same about you. “

#john wick imagine #john wick x reader #john wick fanfic #john wick fluff #x reader

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the-daily-multi-fandom-post · 4 years ago

Note

Loki x Reader where Y/n has to keep him from pissing off the Avengers and he has a crush on her so he's always nice (a little too nice) to her and she doesn't see it so Steve points it out to her. She starts teasing Loki, a touch lingering a little too long on his hip, shamelessly checking him out until he finally confesses? Please ♥️

Yes! I love writing for Loki when I get a request. (Which isn’t very often) so this is very exciting to write! Here it is! ❤️🖤 kinda changed it up. But I hope you like it.

Tags: @thanossexual (ask to be tagged in my post!!)

“What are you doing, Loki?” Y/n asked as she watched him in the living quarters of the avenger tower.

“Planing world domination, love. Care to join me?” He joked looking at her with a smirk.

She hummed and shrugged shoulder.

“Very tempting, but I think I’ll pass. I don’t think I want to be responsible for everyone on earth.” Y/n joked back as she sat comfortably beside Loki on the sofa.

“That’s a bummer, would’ve been fun having a queen like you.” Loki sighed looking at the view from the giant ceiling to floor window.

Y/n chuckled, grabbing her book from the coffee table and flipping to the spot she left off. Loki sighed as he laid down on the leather sofa. Putting his head in Y/ns lap. Enjoying the feeling of her putting her hands through his thick midnight hair.

Y/n read her book while caressing Lokis midnight hair.

“I don’t understand how she can’t see he likes her. I mean come on! Look at that!” Tony whispered yelled at Thor as he nodded his head towards Y/n and Loki.

“Just think about it, reindeer games, doesn’t like anyone here. Not even you, and he’s your brother. He just likes her.” Tony grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and took a big bulb out of it.

“I know my brother has done some terrible things, but he is still able to love... I think.” Thor explained as he went to take a sip of his water, but the water disappeared from the bottle.

“Was there a hole in the bottle?” Thor asked confused, examining the bottle for any holes. Thor and Tony could hear Loki’s snicker and Y/n lightly smacking on his shoulder. Whispering, “you shouldn’t have done that.” Loki shrugged as he smirked.

“Who cares, I don’t trust him.” Tony tolled his eyes moving out of the kitchen, annoyed with Loki’s pranks.

“Brother, if you wish to continue living here. You must stop pissing people off. Your lucky enough I got them to agree to let you stay here.” Thor said as he watched his brother rest his head on Y/ns lap while she read quietly.

Loki didn’t answer Thor which annoyed him.

“Lady Y/n, I know I ask a lot from you. But could you please keep my brother from doing his foolish pranks.” Y/n looked up from her book to the god of thunder.

“I guess, but not all of his pranks are foolish. Also, I suggest going to Tony’s lab or the gym there are hidden smoke bombs that go off as soon as the doors open.” Y/n said with a smirk. Loki bellowed our a laugh as he sat up.

“My dear brother, what have you done to this young woman?” Thor asked as he walked out of the room.

A couple days later:

It was late at night Y/n had just came back from a difficult mission. Her back was hurting and bruised. Her skin had cut marks and a good couple bruises were forming on her Y/s/t face and arms. But the other people looked worse then her. (They were dead or damn near close to it.)

Y/n soaked up the warm shower water and scrubbed the mess off her y/s/t body. The water tinting a slight crimson from the blood and debris coming off of her.

After she washed up and got dressed, she walked out of her room to the living room where she was stopped by a worried looking Loki. It was late, around 3 in the morning. Looking at Loki she seen the worried look on his face. As soon as Loki made eye contact with her he was on his feet. Quickly coming towards her. She was confused and tensed at first, but when she felt his arms wrap around her body she relaxed.

“You are going to worry me to death, darling.” He mumbled against her hair. Breathing in her sent, he held her close to him.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t have any contact to anyone on this mission.” Loki nodded as he pulled her away looking her over seeing the cuts and bruises on her. Which made him worry even more.

“Look, I may look gross and beat up, but you should see the other guy. I’m pretty sure he might have a few broken ribs, and his eye ball might have fallen out.” Y/n tried to make a light hearted joke to the frost giant, but he wasn’t having it.

“I care too much for you to get hurt.” He whispered, almost so quiet that she could barely hear him.

“I can’t bare to see you hurt. Seeing you like this now hurts me. I just want to find the evil bastard who did this to you and torcher then kill him.” Y/n shook her head as she took Loki’s cold hands in her warm ones.

She smiled looking into his blue eyes. “I’m okay, do you feel this?” She asked taking Loki’s hands and placing it over her beating heart.

“I’m still alive and well. I may be a bit bruised, but by tomorrow morning Ill look as fresh as a daisy. That’s what happens when you grow up in Hydra for 25 years of your life.” She joked lightly.

Loki nodded as he heard a door open and close. He looked at her and she nodded knowing he didn’t want the others to know he had a nice side to him.

“Who were you talking to?” Steve asked as he grabbed a bottle of water. The blonde soldier had a towel tightly wrapped around his waist. Y/n could see a few bruises on him as well, but his would be gone in the morning as well.

“Nobody, just myself. Sometimes I need expert advice.” She joked.

Steve laughed while shaking his head.

“I don’t understand why you don’t tell Loki how you feel.” He started.

“I mean the whole time we were on the mission all you could do was talk about how you like Loki.”

Y/n chuckled shaking her head as she looked over the captain. Seeing his bruises slightly healing.

“It’s crazy, you telling me that.” She chuckled looking at Steve with a knowing look.

“Yeah, well I should’ve told Peggy how I felt before everything happen. But you don’t have to be like me. You have to tell people how you feel about them before it’s too late.”

Y/n nodded at the mans words, thinking everything over before he started talking again.

“The two of you, I- we can all see how the two of you feel for each other. It’s just the matter of time for the one if you to grow the balls to tell the other how you feel.” Y/n nodded looking into his blue eyes.

“Just think about it. I’ll see you in the morning, have a good night.” Steve bid her goodbye as he left the room. Leaving her with the thoughts rattling in her head.

Y/n huffed as she laid in her bed. She could stop thinking. She was worn out from the hard mission, but her brain kept on running.

‘What if Loki likes me?’ ‘What if he shares the same feelings I have for him?’ ‘What if I told him how I feel and then he doesnt feel the same?’ The thoughts went on and on throughout the night.

Y/n was about to fall asleep when she heard a light knock on her door. She sat up in bed and mumbled out a come in. Looking confused as Loki came into the room.

“Loki, what’re you doing up?” She questioned as she scooted over on the bed for Loki to sit down.

“I came to tell you something I should’ve told you months ago.” He spoke in a serious voice, which kinda worried her.

She nodded, looking down at her hands Loki hand but his hands on top of. Slightly caressing the soft y/s/t skin.

“I’m in love with you. Everything about you, I’m in love with. The way you care for everyone. The way you care for me when everyone else tries to get rid of me. The way you join in on my pranks. The way you love everyone, the way you protect the people you love. Everything about you makes me fall deeper in love with you.”

He rambled out his confession of love. Y/n looked at the midnight haired man through tears. She was so happy he felt the same way for her. She couldn’t find the right words so she let instinct take over. She didn’t know who kissed who first but it happened and she couldn’t find it in her heart to pull away. She cared to much for this god in front of her. She felt as if she would stop kissing him she would wake up from a dream.

“Will you be my queen?” He asked looking into her y/e/c eyes.

“Yes! Of course!” She smiled, giving him another passionate kiss. And from their they were never separated.

#marvel #marvel avengers #loki x reader #request asked and answered #thor x reader #captain america x reader #steve rogers x reader #tony stark x reader #spider-man x reader

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clumsyclifford · 4 years ago

Text

dearly depressed and brokenhearted (i’d like to let you know that boys cry too)

it’s been a hot sec since i’ve properly posted a fic on tumblr but whatever i have the time and this one isn’t too long

anyway shoutout to @httpsgfg for the idea for the so much therapy playlist, which i somehow got through the entire three and a half hours of whilst writing/posting this. also shoutout to @rotten-candie for helping me pick a title & summary

to be perfectly clear: this is a gen fic. it is centered on a friendship. i’m not in charge of you and if you’re so inclined to read it as pre-slash then i can’t stop you, but if it’s all the same to you, it’s a friendship fic to me

tw i guess for angst, possibly hints at depression, crying, etc there are better tags on ao3 if you need them

title from how do you feel? by the maine

read here on ao3

It’s Saturday, or maybe Monday. Luke has stopped keeping track.

Rain is coming down, slowly but surely. Going outside is sure to end in getting soaked to the bone, probably shivering. Especially if Luke doesn’t bring a jacket.

He goes anyway.

The chill in the air wraps around him like clingfilm, settling under his skin. For a moment outside it would be bearable, but Luke plans to be outside a bit longer than that. He’s going to be cold. He is probably going to lose feeling in his fingers. It would be best to go back inside. Grab some gloves. Maybe a warm coat. Drizzling rain follows the wind and sprays in his face. Luke takes the front steps, one, two, onto the damp grass, which gives under his footsteps. Another. Another. Water soaks through the front of his shoes; his socks are going to get wet and soon he’ll lose feeling in his toes as well.

He’s not trying to go numb or anything. Maybe he’s a bit of a masochist, but who isn’t? It’s not like the cold is going to give him permanent damage. He’ll go back inside when he can’t handle it anymore, but he has time before he reaches his threshold. Outside is the only place Luke can possibly fathom being right now. Everywhere else is wrong. Too bright or too loud or somehow otherwise just wrong.

Here, in the elements, his hoodie barely protects his face from the biting wind. Sleeves over his hands only do so much, even if he curls the ends of them into his palms. Jeans are not the right trousers to wear when it’s below freezing. The rain is only making it all worse.

Luke keeps walking.

He keeps his head down, watching his feet as they carry him forward, one in front of the other with no clear destination except away. Away will eventually circle around and lead him home again — he’s not trying to permanently escape. Something about the rain feels like a reset button, and that might be exactly what Luke needs.

The thing is, this walk is supposed to be clearing Luke’s head, not weighing it down. Not weighing him down. Nothing is really wrong. If Luke tries to parse through his day, or the last couple of hours, he could probably single out a couple of things that might be to blame — calling home always makes him a little more fragile; call ended digs into his chest every time in a way that feels tragically, unjustifiably final — but he’s tired of having a reason for feeling heavy. Sometimes life is just hard. That’s the issue with the question what’s wrong, Luke thinks, blinking at the lights reflecting off the glistening road. Often, nothing is wrong. Does something have to be wrong for me to feel bad? he wants to say, except nobody has even asked him, and this entire conversation is happening inside his head.

Even in his head he’s creating problems where there aren’t any. Awesome.

A chill has taken up permanent residence in Luke’s body. He curls inward, trying to pretend like the wind isn’t blowing around him, like the rain isn’t stinging his face and the exposed strip of his ankles that his jeans and socks don’t quite meet to cover. It’s starting to come down harder; Luke’s hoodie is sticking to his shoulders and back and he might as well be wearing nothing at all for all the protection it’s providing him from the cold. He knows that this is the wrong thing to wear in this weather, but that had kind of been the point. It feels right to be doing something wrong on purpose. It certainly feels better than doing it wrong by accident. Or by virtue of it being beyond his control.

He’d expected to be cold, and he is. A sick sort of comfort arises from having predicted that cause-and-effect.

Luke’s mental clock is rubbish, and though his phone is in his pocket he can’t take it out and check it or it’ll get wet, so he has no idea how long he’s been out when it rings. Buzzes. Luke sighs. He digs his phone out of his pocket, cradling it to his chest to keep it out of the rain, and answers the call. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

Luke waits for Michael to say anything. Eventually: “Where are you?”

“Outside,” Luke says. He looks around. “About five minutes away.”

“Away? Where did you go?”

“I didn’t — I was just walking.”

“Oh.” Michael pauses, and Luke knows what he’s going to say before he says it. “In the rain?”

“Is it raining?”

“...Yes?”

“Then yes, in the rain.”

“Okay. Well. Um, are you going to be back soon?”

Luke sighs again. “I don’t know, maybe.”

“Are you, uh…” There’s a moment of silence. Luke glances around himself, turning his back to the wind. The constant motion of his walk had been the only thing keeping him from becoming a glacier of a man, and now he’s lost that.

“Don’t worry about me, Mike,” Luke says. “I won’t be out too long. Promise.” He can’t, or he’ll get hypothermia or frostbite or something.

“Okay,” Michael says. Luke can tell he’s struggling not to ask if Luke is okay, and it makes Luke feel inexplicably affected. That Michael wants to ask, but knows Luke well enough to know that Luke won’t want him to.

“I’m okay,” he says as a compromise. It’s not really true, but it’s what he would have said if Michael had asked him anyway.

“Okay,” Michael says again, more quietly. “Love you.”

“Love you.”

There’s a long silence. Then Michael hangs up.

The hand holding Luke’s phone slowly lowers, shoving it back into his pocket. Luke stares down at the ground. He blinks back tears, but they come faster than he’s able to stop them. There’s no mistaking tears for rain, actually, not in this weather, because these tears are hot and salty when they slide down his cheeks and into the corners of his mouth. The incongruity of warm tears on his freezing cold face almost makes him laugh, except when he opens his mouth to laugh what comes out instead is an unsolicited sob.

Shit. Fuck. He hadn’t meant to cry. He really hadn’t wanted to cry. He’s not going to become a blubbering mess in the middle of the road at midnight. Being sad is acceptable when nothing’s wrong, but crying when nothing’s wrong is crossing a fucking line.

Why, why is it that hanging up the phone just stabs him in the heart? What the fuck is his problem?

One minute, he tells himself, crouching down because the smaller he is, the warmer he’ll be; one minute of crying and then you’re going to stop crying, because there’s nothing to cry about. One minute.

And for one minute he cries.

After one minute, he’s mostly out of tears anyway. Sniffling, he wipes under his eyes with his damp sleeve. That’s enough, he thinks firmly, sniffling again. Enough. It’s enough.

Before he stands up, he closes his eyes and takes a deep, deep breath. It doesn’t alleviate the weight on his chest, the weight of nothing being wrong, but blocking his vision allows him to tune into his other senses. It’s freezing cold and he shivers, listening to the rain softly hitting the pavement. This isn’t a panic attack, but Luke always finds it helpful to zero in on his senses. Quiet rain like static in his ears, the denim of his jeans creased behind his knees in his crouch, lingering salt on his tongue from the last of the tears, tight skin on his cheeks, his shaky inhales and exhales as he fights for a steady breathing pattern.

He’s okay.

Five minutes from home. Luke straightens up, hugging his arms around himself. His fingers and toes have all but frosted over by now. The world is awash in pale yellow and ashy grey, punctuated with almost-black in dark, unlit corners. On either side of him, familiar houses urge Luke onward, promising one more familiar than the rest if he just keeps walking.

So he does.

Five minutes feels very long, though Luke’s sense of time is, of course, warped beyond recognition, and for all he knows it’s ten minutes before he sees their house. Or two.

Luke stands at the curb before the walkway. It’s freezing cold. He should go inside and warm up. He should make a cup of tea. He should take a hot shower.

Through the window it’s bright, though, so bright, far too bright for the gloomy mood still clamping down on Luke’s shoulders. Even if he went through the living room and shut himself in his room with the lights off, it wouldn’t be the same. The mood is uninterrupted and he doesn’t want to break it with anything.

As Luke stands there, shivering and indecisive, the front door opens.

“Luke?”

“Hi,” Luke says again, like he did on the phone.

“It’s below freezing,” Michael says. “Are you coming in?”

“No.” He’s not. He can’t. Not yet, anyway. Maybe in five minutes. He can go five more minutes before frostbite becomes a real possibility.

“It’s cold, you’ll freeze,” says Michael.

“It’s not that cold.”

“And it’s raining. Cold and raining.”

“I’m not really cold,” Luke lies. “I’m okay. I’ll just be a few minutes.”

Michael stands on the stoop, watching him. From this distance it’s hard to see his expression, but Luke can pretty much guess it’s a mixture of disapproval and concern. Michael has perfected it.

“Be right back,” he finally says, then slips back inside, leaving the door slightly ajar, before Luke can tell him he really doesn’t need to come back. Luke waits, though he contemplates just leaving for another walk. He’s not a dick. Although if Michael returns with Ashton or Calum, Luke will probably be annoyed. He’s not a child and he doesn’t need mothering, which Ashton is sure to do, nor is he in the mood to be cheered up, so Calum won’t be any help either.

Michael returns. He’s wearing a jacket and a beanie and there’s a blanket from off their couch in his hands.

“Michael,” Luke says.

“Please,” Michael says. “I’m obviously not going to convince you to come inside, but I don’t want you to freeze.” He takes the steps, footsteps falling where Luke’s had, and comes close enough to Luke that when he offers up the blanket, Luke reaches out and takes it. “I know you don’t wear jackets,” Michael explains.

It feels like cheating. The masochistic walk should be all-or-nothing. But Luke can’t bring himself to refuse it. It’s not about the blanket, is the thing, really; it’s not about being warm. It’s about the gesture, about accepting the love and concern of a friend when Luke obviously needs it.

The blanket unfolds in his hands and he wraps it around himself. Some of the chill subsides. A new warmth blooms cautiously from within, starting in his sternum and spreading outward. It moves slowly and with difficulty, thawing the ice that’s formed inside Luke’s chest from all of his internal insistence that being cold had been the solution, but it doesn’t back down.

“Can I stay?” Michael asks. “You can say no.”

“Stay for what?” Luke glances around. “I’m not doing anything.”

“Yeah, I know. I just. Thought you might want to do nothing but…with a friend.”

Luke considers saying no. Michael would shrug, eyebrows drawing together in more concern, probably. Okay, he would say. Come inside soon. He would probably shift on his feet, trying to determine whether or not it would be okay to hug Luke, and ultimately decide against it. The door would close behind him and Luke would have the big, empty, glacial outdoors to himself. That had been the goal, when he’d left. To be alone. To have all the room in the world, with the hopes that attempting to fill it would spread his sadness too thin to hold weight. Except that hadn’t really worked. He’d just grown dense, stodgy instead of risen. The rain must have iced his sadness in.

“Would you?” Luke says quietly, swallowing.

Michael nods. He does a very good job pretending like he hadn’t desperately wanted Luke to say yes, although Luke knows he had. “Are you still walking?”

“I think I was going to sit,” Luke says, glancing down at the curb. “You don’t have to.”

“I don’t mind,” Michael says, and Luke really believes that. Luke takes a seat on the curb, even though the frozen rain seeps through his jeans, and Michael sits shoulder-to-shoulder beside him. They both stare out across the street.

After a moment, Michael speaks quietly out into the air. “What — uh — I don’t really know what question to ask. Or if I shouldn’t ask anything.”

“Just as long as you don’t ask what’s wrong,” Luke says wearily. “I’m sick of what’s wrong.”

“Fair enough,” Michael says. There’s a beat of silence. “What are we doing out here?”

“You’re keeping me company.”

“And you’re…?”

Luke shrugs, pulling the blanket tighter around himself. It’s still raining and even the blanket is going to be soaked through soon. Luke’s hands are inside his sleeves, which are inside the blanket, but they’re still numb. “Wallowing.”

He really is wallowing, the most self-indulgent kind of sadness. Hardest to let go of, easiest to drown in.

“Oh,” Michael says, a soft edge in his voice. “That makes sense.”

“It does?”

“I don’t know, yes?” Michael reaches out with his converse, tapping the side against Luke’s calf. “You’re a wallowing kind of guy. Sometimes that’s what you need.”

For the second time tonight, Luke feels abruptly like he might cry, but this time he doesn’t. “Uh. Thanks. I think?”

“I can wallow with you,” Michael says simply.

“Aren’t you cold?”

“Yeah. Aren’t you?”

A small smile tugs at the corners of Luke’s lips. “Yeah,” he admits.

“Yeah,” Michael says, like he’s just made a point. “But you shouldn’t wallow alone. You should at least have company.”

Luke takes a deep breath. He pulls his hood further over his head and glances over at Michael, who’s just watching his own feet with interest.

“Okay,” Luke allows, chewing the inside of his cheek. “Just a couple more minutes. Then we can go inside.” He wonders if this had been Michael’s ploy, to guilt Luke back indoors by offering to freeze for him. But he’s pretty sure it isn’t a trick. Michael isn’t manipulative. He’s just loyal.

“Whatever you want,” Michael says, kicking carelessly at a loose piece of asphalt.

Luke hesitates, lingering in the bubble of silence between them that almost seems to mute the rest of the world. Michael looks over at him finally. When he meets Luke’s eyes, he quirks a transient smile. The warmth defrosting Luke’s insides grows hotter.

Luke leans his head on Michael’s shoulder, and Michael only shifts to accommodate him. “You can wallow with me. We can wallow together. If you want to. If you don’t mind.”

Michael tilts his head against Luke’s and hooks his foot around Luke’s ankle. “Yeah. Wallowing together. I can do that.”

It’s bitterly cold, and the icy rain and wind are doing them no favours. But when Luke closes his eyes this time, the only sensation that seems to matter is Michael’s shoulder solid under Luke’s weight, and he doesn’t feel quite so heavy anymore.

#luke hemmings #michael clifford #.............do i tag this as muke????#fuck it friendship is romance #muke #muke fic #5sos #5sos fic #fic #my fic #yes i listened to therapy for three and a half hours and wrote this fic so like #i wouldnt BLAME you if you dont believe me for saying this #but i swear im okay lol #im honestly chillin #should probably go to bed soon/now but other than that #happy to report that we are simply vibing chief

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elsanna-shenanigans · 4 years ago

Text

February Contest Submission #15: The Old House

words: ca. 6000 setting: 20th Century. Real world (with a twist) lemon: No cw: Some angst. Mentions of parent death. Referenced/implied child abuse.

“It’s time to go.”

She saw through the mist a hand, reaching out for her. Large snowflakes swirled past them like a swarm of puffy hens. The hand could not hold her. It slipped away. She called her parents’ names, or so she thought.

They found her moribund little body in the snow the next morning.

ᚼᛅᛁᛘᛦ•ᛅᚱᚾᚬᛏᛅᛚᛦ

Anna woke up with a start, chest heaving.

It was dark in the hotel room. Her roommate— partner?— stirred groggily next to her.

“Anna? What’s wrong?” Her raspy voice asked. “Was it another nightmare.”

“No,” she lied. “I’m sorry. Y-you can go back to sleep.”

She could feel Elsa’s eyes on her.

“What do you need?” She asked. Her voice spread warmth across Anna’s chest.

“…I could really use a warm hug.”

Next thing she knew, a pair of arms were gathering her into an embrace. She tucked her head under Elsa’s chin and sighed.

It would be a long day, it seemed.

ᚼᛅᛁᛘᛦ•ᛅᚱᚾᚬᛏᛅᛚᛦ

Arendelle was a small town on an island north of Norway. It was born as a fishing town in the 1890s and never changed its trajectory. Only a few dozen houses, a fish-oil refinery, the docks, one church, one school, one hotel, and an administrative building uphill. The people of Arendelle were rustic and gloomy, much like the weather they were brought up in: hail twice a week, snow in winter, and rain the rest of the time. In short: Arendelle hadn’t changed one bit since Anna left.

Being at the foot of the mountain, Arendelle’s surroundings were prone to avalanches, and the most recent one had taken place only a week back. It missed them by a few miles, but it opened up a door for archaeologists from the University of Bergen, who came to study what had been uncovered by the snow.

Anna wasn’t an archaeologist; she was a girl on a mission. She left while her grandfather slept, hopping into a cargo ship to travel north. Her passage was worth weeks of work. She hadn’t expected the sight of the town in the distance to hurt her as it did, so she kept her mind busy, and spent her days searching.

The day things began to go downhill, she was, as always, searching for her parents’ bodies.

She climbed up the mountains with her wooden stick and stabbed the snow with it, searching for something harder than mud. Bones, hopefully, although she was terrified of finding frozen flesh sticking to their cheekbones. The sky grew dark and cold, and Elsa would kill her if she arrived one minute too late, so she decided to turn back. She followed her own tracks towards the dig (where they let her sit by the ever-burning campfire as long as she wasn’t too noisy). The skeletal tree-branches rattled above. The wind whistled and swooshed sharply, blowing rough snow that clawed at her reddened cheeks. Her hands were numb even inside her pockets. Anna’s only comfort was thinking about Elsa’s arms around her. Not even the sight of Arendelle downhill quelled the chill.

Anna might be a born-Arendellian, but she grew up in the south of Norway. She was ill-prepared for the hostile North.

However, if Elsa had taught her anything, was that even under the dark frozen sky there were objects of wonder.

As Anna trudged across the snow-sea which reached her mid-calf, something caught her eye. A narrow stone-wall led deep into the forest. Only two feet tall and falling apart already. Frost covered its surface.

Her heart leaped. She deviated from her path without a second thought, legs racing, pulse and breath quickening with emotion.

The picture-stone came into view after. It lied deeper into the woods. A bow-shaped slab. Abstract ships, stick-people, reindeer herds gathered on it in a violent array of reds. Waves, antlers, and swords, a story carved in stone. A sacrifice.

And in the center, she found her.

There was something else to Arendelle.

“The Queen,” The hotel-butler had explained.

“The Queen of Norway?” Anna had asked, much to his amusement.

“No, the real Queen.”

The Snow Queen, who with her reindeer-pulled chariot cast a shadow of frost over every corner of the North. Her arms rose towards the sky, where her snowflake curled like clouds, like the winds she sent south. The slab was thirteen-foot-tall and rose high above Anna, with its depiction of the nordic spirit. Below her, was an inscription.

As it usually did, time halted. Anna’s throat dried, her eyes widened. She covered her mouth. She could no longer hear the sharp branch-rattling or wind-whistling over the sound of her own warm blood pounding in her ears. She no longer felt cold.

She reached forward, tracing with a fingertip the carvings.

The finds couldn’t be younger than seven hundred years old. Had it truly been that long? Oh, Anna could nearly feel the sculptor’s trembling hands, their warm breath. She placed a hand where someone else’s hands had once been.

She searched for her journal inside her coat and scribbled down the runes she saw, as well as the stone and the wall she’d seen before.

Anna was no archaeologist— she wasn’t nearly smart enough—, but she understood why someone may choose this path. When she gazed upon this stone, it was as if there was no distance at all.

The icy wind pushed against her, pulling her out of her haze. Yes! She began to stroll downhill. She’d prove her usefulness! She’d alert the scholars of the new find.

ᚼᛅᛁᛘᛦ•ᛅᚱᚾᚬᛏᛅᛚᛦ

Anna and the archaeologists were two land mammals sharing the same habitat, only, while they searched with brushes and trowels, Anna searched with a wooden stick. As non-competitive species, they often shared the same space, considering they knew her story. Anna wasn’t sure why the scholars tolerated her, but maybe it was because she and Elsa were a package deal now.

As soon as she reached her destination, Elsa threw her arms around her shoulders, kissed her cheek, and asked:

“Are you alright?”

She pulled back, anxious eyes studied her from head to toe. Anna’s heart always swelled with adoration when she heard that voice.

“I am,” she soothed her. “Oh, Elsa, you won’t believe what I found!”

“Wait.” Elsa tugged her towards the campfire and caressed Anna’s cheek with the back of her hand. “You’re cold. Come here.”

Soon, they sat on a log before the magnificent dig. A farmstead, they’d said. Stone walls and a half-rotten roof still mostly standing, surrounded by icy farming grounds where lamb bones were found.

The more awe-inspiring part, of course, was that a family had lived there. The farmstead was someone’s home. Elsa had described the findings in length: a family of three. All of them Christians, and funnily enough, also sheepherders. Thirteenth century. The settlement of Árnadalr lied many kilometers south, but this family lived in solitude.

Anna now wore an extra coat, held a mug of cocoa in her hands, and had Elsa fussing over her like a mother hen.

“What took you so long? You could get lost out there! And you left your scarf behind again. Here, let me find it.”

“Well, aren’t you a protective one,” Anna teased her, sipping her drink. Elsa’s pale skin flushed.

“It’s my job, isn’t it?” she muttered.

Before Anna could snort and ask what that meant, Professor Mattias, who was in charge of the dig, intervened to ask about Anna’s findings in the woods. Her enthusiasm immediately reassured everyone that she brought good news, and while they couldn’t travel at night, they still celebrated in the hotel. They cheered with vodka at the charcoal-sketch of the picture-stone Anna had presented. Yes, she’d made herself useful.

As they congratulated her, Elsa remained silent.

The hotel was so old, half the lightbulbs didn’t work. There was only one phone, and a dozen residents lined up every day to make their thirty-minutes calls and clog up the narrow smelly corridor. Each curtain was half-eaten by moths; you’d be wise not to put your clothes in the closet. Three stories of dusty light, creaky stairways, and dirty cracked windows. You could hear every neighbor from three doors away, and the ice clawed down from the roof into a fang-curtain before every window. They offered only one blanket per bed, but Elsa had provided Anna with a woolen quilt on her first night. That had perhaps been the first step towards falling in love with her. Between paying for both of them and giving up her own warmth, Elsa had extended unconditional kindness towards Anna from day one. Maybe they’d been doomed from the start.

“They’re out of single rooms,” she’d clarified upon Anna’s arrival. “And I’ve been paying for an empty bed for the past week. Please, I insist.”

It might have passed as simple pragmatism had Elsa not been Elsa. It wasn’t only about her treatment towards Anna, no, but about how she’d treat a stranger in need, that made Anna lose control of her heart.

She asked her about her silence, in the light of their whale-oil lamp (their room’s electricity hadn’t worked since the ‘30s), as she tried to translate the runes with her journal and a book she’d grabbed from the local library.

“Is everything okay, Elsa?”

Elsa was sitting on her bed, silently combing her hair. She wore only her slip, which was quite distracting, but she didn’t have the intention of getting into bed, despite looking so tired.

At Anna’s words, she tilted her head.

“Why? Are you feeling poorly?”

Anna snorted.

“I’m okay. Are you?”

“It’s nothing.”

Anna sighed. She closed the book and stared at Elsa.

“You never let me pull off this whole.. avoiding the subject thing,” she protested, and then extended an arm towards her, begging to come closer. A new anxious question settled on her tongue. “Are you…? Do you feel…? I mean, do you feel safe with me, Elsa? Like you can trust me?”

Elsa’s eyes studied her for one agonizing moment. She stood up. Well, they did only meet a month back. Weren’t they moving too fast? Her grandfather would certainly disapprove.

“It’s not that,” Elsa murmured as she approached Anna. She wrapped her arms around her shoulders and nuzzled the top of her head. She planted a kiss there, and Anna’s heart skipped a beat. “I do trust you.”

Anna saw her pale fingers brush over the pages of her journal. Her uncertain translation read:

This stone was raised in memory of Agðar and Iðunn, who met their end in their travels. Their daughter carved this stone.

“You’re becoming quite a good translator,” Elsa commented, and placed another kiss on Anna’s hair. Heat crept up to the tips of her ears.

“T-thank you,” she replied, as she ripped off the page and stored it in her folder, alongside all other translations and sketches she’d scribbled since her arrival: small runestones, illustrations of archaeological finds, and multiple petroglyphs of the Queen, all of which she’d shared with the archaeologists. “You’re an excellent translator as well! I mean, I suppose you are. You work at the dig, after all.”

Elsa hummed.

“I’m not an archaeologist. I’m only a volunteer.” she argued. “In fact, I believe you’ve been more helpful than me.” She flipped over a page. “The Snow Queen?”

“Oh! Uh, yeah,” Anna stammered. “Kind of a passion project.”

“For the Snow Queen?” Elsa raised an eyebrow. “Should I be jealous?”

“Well, legend has it she was single, right? Oh! Thy Majesty! Pardon my manners, but I shoult say thy bosom looks exquisite. Are thee by any chance in need of a shieldmaiden?”

A hand snaked around her waist. Anna shrieked as Elsa’s fingers dug into the sensitive spot. Between laughter and screeching, she curled on herself and tried to swat her hand away.

“Come on,” Elsa laughed. “It’s getting late. And keep working on your performance. That’s not how people spoke back in the day.”

She ruffled Anna’s hair and strode back towards her bed, and— alright, she saw swaying her hips on purpose.

Anna pulled her knees to her chest, placing her heels on the edge of the seat and hugging her legs.

“You said you grew up here, right?”

“More or less, yes. Why?”

“Oh, I was just wondering. About the Snow Queen, you know.”

“What about her?”

“…That’s what I meant to ask.”

Elsa sighed. She rubbed her eyes.

“Just… some fairy tale,” she dismissed it, with a wave of her hand. “To make children behave. If you were nasty, a monster would feel your frozen heart and take you to her palace.”

“Was it a nice palace, at least?”

“I wouldn’t know. I was quite obedient growing up.”

“Oh, excuse me.”

Elsa chuckled, and Anna’s heart fluttered with affection.

“I was!” she insisted, giving Anna a mischievous look. “But no. I don’t think it was a nice place. In fact, they say everything about the Queen was cruel and horrible. She never seemed like girlfriend material to me.”

“You think?” Anna asked. “I don’t know. Maybe she was lonely.”

Elsa cast her eyes down, lips curling into a melancholic smile.

“Well, I doubt even she could resist your charms.”

With a delicate finger, she pulled Anna’s hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear. Now the heat was in Anna’s stomach, in her chest, in the way Elsa gazed at her with such an unexpected adoration, she couldn’t help but to raise her head and kiss her lips. Elsa sighed contentedly, her hand cradling the back of Anna’s neck. Her mind spun around as their lips brushed together.

Then Elsa pulled away, with a pensive expression. She bit her lip.

“Tell you what,” she said, grasping Anna’s hands. “Come with me tomorrow. I want to show you something.”

Anna grinned. That was good enough for her. She’d wait for Elsa to speak in her own terms and time.

ᚼᛅᛁᛘᛦ•ᛅᚱᚾᚬᛏᛅᛚᛦ

“That’s the thing,” she remembered her grandfather say, when she was seven. “I doubt they got lost. We would have found the bodies by now. I bet the reason they’re gone is because they didn’t want to deal with the responsibility, so they thrusted it on me.”

Anna woke again. Her hands trembled.

That had been a lie.

That had to be a lie.

He had always lied, hadn’t he? Maybe he just despised her.

Yes, she’d find them and prove him wrong.

They loved her. They were dead.

Thankfully, Elsa wasn’t disturbed by her pathetic dreams. Anna was surprised she still put up with her, but it was better not to take risks.

She grabbed her coat and got ready for the day.

ᚼᛅᛁᛘᛦ•ᛅᚱᚾᚬᛏᛅᛚᛦ

Elsa guided her through the lonely snow-sea of the mountains in the dark winter morning. The Queen seemed to have it against them, because she blew her snow all over and made them struggle to climb up the hills.

“Um… Elsa? How much until we get there?” Anna asked, as she could no longer feel her toes.

“Not much,” Elsa absently replied. Her eyes drifted all over the hills. She grasped Anna’s hand and pulled her along.

The cliffs overlooking Arendelle were a dark shadow in the distance, but they gained definition as both women approached. They didn’t draw a 90 degrees angle with the ground— rather, the earth elevated slowly, in bumps and rocky points, rising like a heavy breath towards the cliff’s foot. It was a rather secluded spot, where the snow didn’t hit as harshly. There they could rest until the time to search came again.

Yet Elsa had other plans. She toiled forward, along the cliff-wall, until the runestones came into view.

Blood-red lines coiled around the edges of a small stone plate, only half as tall as Anna herself. It protruded from near the foot of the cliff, high above. They exchanged a quick look.

“Can you read what it says?” Asked Elsa. Anna cringed thinking about her rune-reading skills.

“I can try?” She vacillated. Looking up, she read: “…Sif and Afvaldr erected this stone in memory of Nafni, son of Ulfarr, father of Afvaldr and husbandman of Sif, who met his end fighting the snow.”

Her heart skipped a beat. She saw Elsa grin from the corner of her eye.

“Anna,” she tugged at her hand. “Look.”

Anna followed the direction of Elsa’s finger, and saw extending into the distance a trail of stones with engravings on them. Small, big, at some points more spaced out than in others. They followed the length of the cliff-wall like a series of little stars, so tiny under the mountain’s shadow.

Anna’s throat tightened with emotion.

She stepped towards the next stone. This one had a cross on it.

“Feykir and his daughter, Esja, had this stone raised in memory of Rjúpa, Feykir’s wife and Esja’s mother, who was taken by the wicked snow. May God help her spirit.”

This one was close enough to touch. Anna traced the edge of the cross with a finger.

“How did you know this place?” She asked.

“Oh, you know.” Elsa shrugged. “This is my home.”

Many of the stones were cenotaphs, Elsa explained. No one was buried beneath this soil, but they might as well be, because each of these people, with names and loved ones, felt only a breath away.

“Bersa raised this stone in memory of Ilmr, her father’s sister. She was killed when trying to kill the snow.”

Anna’s breath grew heavier. She scrutinized these patterns, these strange writings, for several hours; they all dated to this wicked, living, killing snow.

Her heart vigorously pounded warm blood into her fingertips.

Then, she spotted a particular runestone. It was the greatest one of all, far away from the others, and it sported the same figure she’d seen only a day before; the Snow Queen with her arms towards the sky. Around her coiled a serpent with words on its skin.

In her blind excitement, Anna hastily climbed over rocks until she reached it. Elsa followed closely behind.

“Do you know what it says?” Elsa asked when she reached her.

Anna squinted at the words. Its inscription was the longest she’d seen so far.

“It says… Agðar and Iðunn came from the south. It was with them that the snow came.” She stepped to the side, to read the following line. “It was their daughter that brought the evil, with which she could slay a hundred men in… Árnadalr? So… um… Crap. I don’t know what it says here.”

She turned around, expecting to find Elsa willing to lend a hand, but her expression was painted by an unexpected sadness.

Anna’s stomach sank a little.

“Elsa?”

Elsa lowered her head.

“It says they killed her,” she explained. Anna squinted.

“She was real?”

“So it seems.”

“The Snow Queen? No. That’s… too much even for Arendelle. Besides, vikings wrote a lot of weird stuff, right?”

“It’s what the stone tells.” Elsa pointed out. “I know I said it was only a tale last night, but…”

“Wait. Agðar and Iðunn?” Anna checked the names on the stone again. “Were they…? Oh, Elsa… She really was real. And her parents…”

“…Yes. Agðar and Iðunn were the names of the people who lived in the dig,” Elsa clarified.

“So, the Snow Queen… she…” Anna looked at the carvings in stone again. Despair seized her heart. “Oh, no, Elsa. She had a family. They… Oh, goodness…”

A family, yes, one the Snow Queen had missed very much, enough to raise a stone in their memory. To think about this loss, this pain that she thought she knew even if she wasn’t quite sure, tore her heart in half.

Her eyes watered.

“I don’t think she was a monster.”

There was… a long history of death and pain in that family, wasn’t it?.

She heard Elsa breathe behind her.

“Anna, there’s…”

She dropped whatever it was she was about to say when she noticed the mist behind Anna’s eyes.

“I really hope I find my parents,” she murmured, then furiously rubbed her eyes. “D-did I ever tell you what happened to them?”

She could feel Elsa’s pain-stricken gaze on her.

“If that’s something you want to do, I’ll listen.”

Anna nodded. Her throat constricted.

“There was a storm,” she recalled. “I don’t remember what happened very well. I-I can’t even remember their names, and my grandfather won’t tell me, and besides…”

“He won’t?”

“Yeah, so I think I got lost, because I couldn’t see them anywhere. Next thing I knew, I woke up in the hospital. My grandfather adopted me afterwards.”

“But you’re the one searching for the bodies?”

“What can I say?” Anna shrugged and forced a crooked smile. “Guess he didn’t want to… unbury any painful memories.”

“He didn’t care to find his son?”

“…Or you could put it like that, too.” She wiped her eyes, looking down. “I think I’m beginning to understand him, though.”

Elsa squinted.

“How come?”

“Well…” She kicked the snow at her feet. “He told me once they’d left me in the snow. I like to think I actually got lucky, but I…” She shook her head. “I feel so selfish, Elsa. Like I want them to be dead, just so I can know they didn’t abandon me.”

“They didn’t,” Elsa blurted out with a thick voice. “Anna, your family loved you.”

“Then I shouldn’t be looking for them like this.”

Her voice sounded pathetic even to her.

She brought her hands together, and carefully leaned against Elsa.

“What are you going to do, then?”

She sucked in a ragged breath.

“I don’t know,” Anna admitted. “I don’t wanna go home. My grandfather…”

“Does he hurt you?”

“He’s never hit me.”

Elsa’s arm snaked around her waist.

“What will you do?” Anna then asked, trying to shift the attention from herself. “After the dig is over, I mean. You’ve lived your whole life here, right?”

“In a way.”

“Will you stay?”

That was a difficult question. Elsa could imply she’d leave her and neither of them would know, because Anna didn’t know what she’d do, either. Maybe she’d be the one to leave Elsa.

Elsa closed her eyes.

“I don’t know. Arendelle brings a lot of memories, doesn’t it?”

“It does.”

Then Elsa lowered her gaze. Screwed her eyes shut. She pulled away from Anna and wrapped both arms around herself.

“Let’s just go back,” she said curtly. Anna’s heart weighed heavily in her chest— from thinking of her family, from thinking about the Queen, from this sudden rejection—, but she respected Elsa’s space. Had she done something to scare her away? Oh, she surely must have.

They climbed down from the hills even though Anna’s toes were freezing. The mountains made her feel hopeless but so did the sight of Arendelle, and with Elsa walking several feet before her, not even glancing back, Anna felt as though there was no respite from this tired heaviness. She wanted nothing but to curl into a ball and sleep.

Just before they entered the town, Elsa stopped.

“Anna… listen.” She began. Her tone made Anna’s shoulders droop. “I-I can’t keep doing this. We can’t.”

Anna’s heart quivered.

“W-what do you mean?”

“I mean… this has to end.” She raised her shoulders to her ears. Avoided Anna’s eyes. “I-I’m sorry. Goodbye, Anna.”

Her heart cracked open. Anna shook her head.

“What? W-why?” She shouldn’t feel this surprised. “Did… did I do something? I’m so sorry if I did. Just…”

The pain behind Elsa’s eyes was indescribable.

“No.” She interrupted. “It wasn’t you. Just… please. I can’t say it right now.”

Anna wanted to reply (to scream, cry, seize her hands and not let go), but words failed her as Elsa turned her back to her and entered Arendelle.

As simple as that, Anna was alone.

She didn’t begin to cry until Elsa was out of sight, like a pathetic little child.

ᚼᛅᛁᛘᛦ•ᛅᚱᚾᚬᛏᛅᛚᛦ

During her last night in Arendelle, Anna dreamed of her sister.

Yes, she’d had a sister, and even though she didn’t remember her name or face she remembered she’d loved her, once. She remembered holding her hand and running in the snow, building snowmen and drinking chocolate with her. The affection and tenderness lingered after, as if carved on stone.

ᚼᛅᛁᛘᛦ•ᛅᚱᚾᚬᛏᛅᛚᛦ

"Anna, wait.”

Her breath and heart came to a halt. Turning around, she found her standing there, in her blue dress and gripping a rucksack. Her expression was both serious and desperate; pained. She raised a hand as if to grasp Anna’s.

“Oh. Elsa,” Anna blurted. The need to cover her face nearly overpowered her. “Uh… Hello.”

Elsa took her acknowledgment as a cue to come closer. Two long steps and a stare, just for a moment; and Anna understood she didn’t know what she was doing, either. Did she intend to apologize for being brusque? Her approach seemed to indicate so. It wouldn’t be unlike her. Anna was willing to accept and move on if that was the case, but truth was, she didn’t deserve an apology when she’d been the one in the wrong.

However, Elsa looked anything but angry.

Rather, her blue eyes drifted over to the ship in port; the sea. Her throat bobbed up and down.

“I suppose we’ll be leaving in the same ship,” she pointed out with a lopsided smile. Anna tried to smile back.

“Yep. So it seems.”

“Though I believe we’re early,” continued Elsa. “I was wondering if you cared for a walk in town.”

Anna looked to the side.

“Elsa, I… don’t know.”

“There’s something I need to tell you,” she insisted. “I know. I know. Y-you don’t have to listen to me. But I promise I’ll explain everything, if you’ll have me.”

“Oh, Elsa, there’s nothing to explain,” Anna reassured her. “You just… don’t feel the same way I do. That’s normal. I’m not mad, you know.”

Elsa shook her head.

“That’s not it,” she insisted. “It's… more complicated than that. Actually, I’ve been meaning to tell you this ever since I found you.” She wrung her hands together and looked down. “I just hope you’ll believe me when I’m done.”

Regret and desperation were draped over her posture like a heavy cloak, dragging her down. Even when hurt, Elsa still made her heart skip a beat with every gesture of kindness, and this one was no exception. Both her lovestruck haze and her intellectual curiosity compelled her to give Elsa a chance.

She picked up her bag and extended her arms to the sides.

“I’m all ears.”

Elsa’s grin reminded her of why she loved her.

“Really?”

“Yep! One-hundred-per-cent. Now, hurry up!”

Elsa sighed in relief. She placed a hand on her chest.

“Alright. Come with me.”

She led her out of the port and into town. Despite having spent the last few months in Arendelle, Anna wasn’t eager to revisit it, but it was different when she knew that’d be the last time she’d see it. She spotted the playground where she and her sister had played (her big sis always hugged her from behind when they went down the slide, because it wasn’t fun going alone), and saw the place where they bought cod and salmon on the weekends. The little kindergarten she’d attended had closed down, but the building still stood. Most streets hadn’t been paved. Mud stuck to her boots. The sky was still white and cold, the houses dull, and the people as austere and uncaring as they’d always been.

“When I was little,” Elsa began. “My family and I were hiding from a very dangerous man. Of course, I didn’t know that until I was much older. At the time it all felt like a game of hide and seek. We left the mainland, and when that wasn’t enough, we went even further.” She gulped. “We crossed a line that night, and someone else suffered the consequences.”

Anna bit her lip but didn’t interrupt. She feared any disturbance may break the spell and chase Elsa away.

“Anna, what do you remember from the dig?”

“There was a family. With a kid. The Snow Queen. And… her parents died.” Anna recounted. “Is that it? You were reminded of your family?”

“…I was, yes,” replied Elsa. “Anna…”

Was that it? Had it been a dumb case of miscommunication? Of course! She’d been so stupid. Neither of them had been in the right place back then, but now they were, and they could sort out the problem. Perhaps, Elsa didn’t hate her.

Only then Anna realized they were standing before the old house.

Her stomach sank. Her breath hitched and a shiver ran down her spine, mouth hanging ajar. She stepped back.

“Oh, no,” she heard Elsa mumble.

The house was still made of wood, although it had lost its color. Two stories. A window was broken and so was one of the steps leading up to the entrance. From inside came the smell of dust and rust and rot.

“Anna?”

She looked at Elsa, and couldn’t find the words to beg or cry or scream, but she didn’t need to because Elsa didn’t ask questions. She held her reluctant gaze for a moment and then she nodded, stepped forward, and took Anna’s hand.

She managed to hold her composure and lead Elsa inside.

The house had been empty for thirteen years, and it had collected dust and spiderwebs over time. It still felt like home, though. A cold fireplace, where Mama often sang to them, or the rocking chair by the windows, where Papa sat to tell bedtime stories.

Anna’s ribcage unlocked with force. She exhaled shakily and blinked the blurriness away.

Elsa was dreadfully silent, but her thumb caressed Anna’s knuckles. This gave her the strength to climb up the stairs towards her old bedroom. The window was so dirty, you could barely see at all. Nearly all the furniture was gone, save for a pitiful nightstand.

“Anna?”

Anna placed both palms on the nightstand and screwed her eyes shut.

“W-would you tell me about your family? Please?”

She did not have a family to embrace her but perhaps she could bask in the comfort of someone else’s warmth.

“My father was a physicist. My mother was a historian,” continued Elsa. “A-and I had a little sister. Even then, I loved her with everything I was.”

The drawer was stuck. Anna struggled with it.

“W-we never meant to leave her behind.” Elsa’s breathing was laborious. “But there was a blizzard; a small avalanche. And she got lost. We tried to go back for her but it was too late. We’d already reached the other side.”

The wood made a horrible rattling noise, but it eventually gave in under Anna’s strength.

“To this day I still don’t understand how such a thing could happen. We spent thirteen years trying to go back, a-and my parents didn’t make it. The people in town saw something in me. They feared me, and I never knew why. I-I didn’t mean to scare them. My parents tried to find a way back, but they—they didn’t make it. I-I took care of them myself. Gave them a proper…” her voice cracked horribly. “T-they deserved to see her again, yet only three years later the very same window opened itself to me. I didn’t cross it. In fact, it crossed over me.”

Inside the drawer was a single photo frame. Anna picked it in her trembling hands.

“Elsa…”

“I was happy. I was back, after so long. And then I found my little sister, too. I can’t describe the way I felt when I saw her again, all grown up after thirteen years.”

Anna traced a finger around her sister’s childish face on the frame’s glass.

“Elsa, I…”

“But then, I began to feel… something else. I thought I was just… happy to have her back, even if I hadn’t dared to tell her the truth. But I was wrong. What I felt… scared me. I wanted to be with her all the time, but I couldn’t stand to look at her face. I felt disgusting. I-I still do.”

Anna put the frame down, and studied her sister from head to toe. The same blue eyes, snow-like hair. The same gentle features but also the same inner strength her broken little mind still remembered. Her thoughts were no longer made of words; she couldn’t hear them over the blood pounding in her ears— her heart would jump out of her chest at any moment. They had all come to a halt as her brain processed Elsa’s words. Her sister. Her sister, who had been away for so long, who was now back, who had taken care of their parents’ burial alone and who still made Anna feel like the most loved person in the world.

Her heart made up its mind. She threw her arms around Elsa’s neck.

“Oh, Elsa…” she breathed, and choked back a sob. “You’re not disgusting. Please, don’t ever say that. I love you.”

Her sister. She was back, from beyond time. She was the same girl who tucked Anna into bed back then. She’d taken care of baby sheep yet she saw herself through monstrous lenses. The Snow Queen, in love with her little sister, who one day vanished from her farmstead and was never seen again. Who raised a stone in memory of their parents, for people hundreds of years later to remember them. This girl with a quivering body, holding Anna in her arms.

A tear ran down Anna’s cheek.

“I realized that, regardless of how I felt, I would lose you again if I didn’t tell you,” Elsa whispered. “That’s all that matters. We can forget about whatever it is that I feel. That’s alright by me.”

Anna shook her head against her sister’s shoulder.

“Well, g-good thing it doesn’t have to come down to that, right?” Anna chuckled wetly. She slowly pulled back, and found her sister’s hands in hers.

“Even now that you know the truth?” Elsa closed her eyes. “No. It isn’t right.”

“What are you talking about? Elsa, can’t you see? I love you. I… will need some time to wrap my head around this, but… All these years, I thought I was alone, b-but I wasn’t! You and Mama and Papa were always out there. You were even searching for me! A-and now I have you back, and… Oh my Goodness, I got my sister back… A-and she’s in love with me.”

Anna hesitated for only one second. For some reason, she could believe her, almost without trying. Her sister, yes, it wasn’t normal, but after walking across time and back– after losing her for so long, normal was out the window for her. She wouldn’t lose her, in one way or the other.

“I’m sorry.” Elsa murmured.

“What? Elsa, have you met you?” Anna spluttered, then laughed. “Not everyone is lucky enough to say their sister loves them this much.” She stood on tip-toes and pressed her lips to Elsa’s— her sister’s— her family’s. The warmth that spread inside her body felt natural, and it did so even more when a hand cupped the back of her neck. She pulled back after a moment. “We have time to figure things out, Elsa,” she said. “Y-you’ll come with me, right? You’ll give me a chance?”

Her sister’s eyes brimmed with tears. Her hand tucked a strand of red hair behind Anna’s ear.

“I’m scared, Anna,” she admitted. “I don’t know what I’m doing. But I’ll stay with you. I promise.”

Anna grinned like a lovestruck fool.

“We’ll figure it out together,” she reassured her. Then a siren came from the port, echoing through Arendelle. They exchanged a smile. Anna stole one more peck before Elsa could speak.

“Are you satisfied? Shall we go now?” Elsa giggled.

They made it outside the house, and once outside, the brightness blinded Anna for an instant. When she inhaled the fresh ocean air, she felt as if she could float. The damp, heavy odor of the house no longer clung to her lungs.

She looked back. The house hadn’t changed. Its wood was still colorless and empty of life. It was completely empty.

“Anna?”

Her sister stood next to her, more beautiful than she remembered. She looked at her with all the love in the world.

The siren blared again.

Large snowflakes swirled past them like a swarm of puffy hens.

Anna grasped her sister’s hand.

“Come on,” she said. “It’s time to go.”

#elsanna #submission #february 2021 contest #prompt: ancient worlds #cw: angst #cw: death #cw: child abuse

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tellmealovestory · 5 years ago

Text

Love Is All Around

Summary: Bucky surprises you on your favorite holiday Valentine’s Day.

Notes: Also posted on a03. This was difficult for me to write because I really, really don’t like Valentine’s Day, but this idea wouldn’t leave my head until I wrote it down so here it is.

Warnings: Badly written smut, oral (f receiving), sex, unprotected sex, USE PROTECTION, fluff

It was the most wonderful time of the year. No, not Christmas. Valentine’s Day. The holiday that celebrated love in every way. It was the perfect holiday for an incurable romantic such as yourself.

Every store front was decked out in shades of reds and pinks and whites. Dark red hearts with white lace trim taped to store front windows, streamers and balloons, giant teddy bears, hallmark cards, romance was alive and well and it wasn’t just the stores.

Everywhere you went you could see happy couples holding hands, sharing kisses in the middle of sidewalks, in stores. It was beautiful and sweet and heartwarming.

The bakery you worked at was decked out the most. Every cookie was decorated in shades of red or pink and heart shaped. Red velvet cupcakes with cream cheese frosting with little hearts stuck to the top. Heart shaped cakes meant to be shared between lovers piped with pink and red roses, cursive piping with romantic sayings scrolled across the top of each frosting covered cake. Donuts with pink and red and white sprinkles lined the cases.

It was beautiful and wonderful and exciting, but utterly exhausting. Valentine’s Day may have been your favorite holiday, but working at the bakery meant one of the busiest times of the year. It seemed as if everyone in New York was coming in to request special made cakes and cookies and pastries for their loved ones. It meant that at the end of the day your feet were sore, your lower back aching, your eyes heavy with the need for sleep. It also meant that you could barely enjoy the holiday that you loved so much. By the time you were done at work it was all you could do to get home, grab something to eat and fall asleep before starting over the next day.

While you loved your job, loved being able to take ingredients from scratch and make them into something beautiful and edible that had people craving more sometimes you wished you could sit back and enjoy the holidays.

It didn’t help that between the holidays keeping you busy at work and your boyfriend an Avenger trying to schedule time to see him was becoming more and more difficult. Sure, sometimes when work was slow he’d stop in to see you which you always loved. And when the two of you had a day off more often than not you could be found with each other. But between the rush at the bakery and the bad guys not having anyone to love them down on Valentine’s Day the two of you weren’t able to spend your favorite day together.

When he had told you he was going to be away on a mission you had been disappointed. It wasn’t his fault. You knew what his job had been and what the risks were when you had started to see him, but you had still been bummed out, you had been looking forward to a nice romantic night in with him. No matter how hard you had tried to hide your disappointment he had seen right through you and had promised to make it up to you, a promise you were looking forward to.

Saying your goodbyes to your coworkers you pushed open the bakery door, listening to the bell jingle overhead as you headed out into the brisk February air of New York. The streets were crowded, couples holding hands, people looking disgruntled at the couples, people shoving and yelling and laughing and taxis and horns honking. After moving to New York the loudness of the city had been jarring, but now you couldn’t imagine being without it. In a strange way all the noise was a comfort to you, it meant you were home.

Tugging your scarf tighter around your neck you glanced up at the darkened sky watching the snowflakes fall. It was pretty and romantic and it made your heart ache knowing that you were about to go home to an empty apartment and spend your favorite holiday by yourself. At least you could comfort yourself with the box of red velvet cupcakes you had brought with you from work and you could comfort yourself with every cheesy romantic movie you could find on the hallmark channel without people making fun of you.

Not making it more than a couple of steps before you heard your phone ringing loudly in your purse you smiled when you saw it was Wanda texting you. The message was brief saying only come over for a girls night? You replied yes. It may not have been the romantic night you envisioned, but it was better than being by yourself.

Something was off as you entered the compound. It was quiet, which wasn’t that unusual when members were away on a mission, but it was still... weird.

The hairs on the back of your neck stood up and you wondered if you should turn around and leave. What if it was a trap of some sort? Turning around you were about to leave when something caught your eye. Debating if you should go and investigate or leave incase this really was a trap your curiosity got the better of you as you took a tentative step forwards. Grabbing your phone out of your purse just in case your steps were cautious as you moved towards the large kitchen and the piece of paper that was sitting on the middle of the table.

Your heart picked up speed thumping wildly beneath your chest, your hands were sweating and you were sure your phone and box of cupcakes were about to slip from your hand and drop to the floor. This was how you were going to die, by being the idiot who instead of running when something seemed off going towards it instead.

There was still time to turn back, but your feet seemed to move on their own and as you reached the table your heart only raced faster, your eyes widening in confusion as you looked up expecting to see Tony telling you this was some elaborate prank. Your eyes reread the note that told you Wanda had run out to get popcorn and to go to Bucky’s room. Again, the sense of something being off washed over you, but again your curiosity got the better of you.

Your phone rang, the noise invading the quiet of the compound had you jumping, a yelp of surprise falling from your lips as the box of cupcakes crashed to the floor. Wincing at the ruined food you swore you were going to pass out the way your heart was thumping beneath your chest. Looking down at your phone you relaxed slightly for the first time since entering the compound when you saw it was another text from Wanda. Your eyebrows furrowed as you reread the message two, three times, your confusion only mounting as you tried to understand the meaning behind your friends words. Follow the note, Y/N.

This was getting weird. Could she see you?

“Wanda?” You called, feeling dumb when silence greeted you. “If this is some kind of sick joke Tony set you up to it’s not funny!”

Still nothing but silence. The fear was giving away to anger as you shoved your phone into your purse. Reaching down you grabbed the box of cupcakes not bothering to see the damage you had caused when they had dropped. Your heart was still pounding, warmth of embarrassment and frustration and anger climbing up your neck and cheeks as you stalked towards Bucky’s room. This was ridiculous. You were going to kill Tony. Slowly and painfully you thought.

“This isn’t funny anym-,” you started, your words getting cut off, lodged in the back of your throat. Your eyes widened, your lips parting into an o of shock and surprise when you threw Bucky’s bedroom door open not to find Tony or Wanda or any bad guys, but Bucky standing there.

“Hey, doll,” He said, his lips curling up into a smirk, before laughter tumbled from his lips as you dropped your purse and the box of cupcakes and ran to him, your arms wrapping around his neck. Thanks to his super soldier abilities he caught you easily, his arms wrapping around your waist as he held you tightly to him.

“What are... you’re not supposed to be... Wanda texted me... I don’t understand!” You sputtered, the sight of your boyfriend catching you so off guard you weren’t able to complete a full sentence. Burying your head in his neck you closed your eyes, inhaling the woodsy and leather scent that always seemed to cling to him. The surprise of seeing him, of being in his arms like this was almost too much for you to handle and you could feel tears pooling in your eyes. “Are you really here? This isn’t some joke is it?”

Bucky could hear the quiver in your voice, could feel the salty tears falling from your eyes as they hit his neck. “‘M really here, doll, it’s not a joke,” he murmured, his voice low, his hand coming up to rest on the back of your head.

Pulling back you searched his eyes, part of you still not believing this was real, that he was really standing in front of you like this. Pressing your lips to his you sighed, he tasted like mint. “I don’t understand,” you whispered against his lips.

“You didn’t really think I’d let you celebrate your favorite holiday by yourself did you?” Dropping his hand from the back of your head he brought it up to your face, the pad of his thumb brushing away the few tears that had managed to fall from your eyes.

“But... you had a mission? You said you weren’t going to be back in time? And then Wanda texted? And... where is everyone, Bucky?” You didn’t mean to bombard him with questions, not when you wanted to kiss him, not when you wanted to tell and show him how happy you were he was here, but you were so confused.

“The mission got done earlier than we expected. I uh... had Natasha and Wanda help me out. Wanted to surprise you,” he said, his words laced with a hint of shyness. “They’re out, it’s just us tonight, doll.”

You opened your mouth, closed it, opened it again as you struggled to comprehend what he was saying. “How long have you been back?” You asked, your eyes narrowing in suspicion. Making a mental note to thank Nat and Wanda for this surprise you pressed your lips against his again. The idea of it only being the two of you tonight sent a thrill through your body.

Bucky avoided your gaze not sure how to tell you the truth and when he felt your lips against his he sighed, kissing you back eagerly, it had been too long since he had done this.

“Bucky... how long have you been back for?” You whispered against his lips, your fingers trailing up and down his neck as you pulled back from the kiss.

“Couple days.”

Dropping your hands from around his neck you stepped out of his embrace as you glared at him. No matter how excited you were to see him, no matter how wonderful this surprise had been you weren’t going to let him off the hook. Not after he had been back for a couple days without saying anything to you.

“Excuse me?”

Bucky flinched at the icy tone of your voice. “Doll, let me explain,” he murmured, his voice velvety soft and when he saw your eyes soften he knew he had you. Taking a step towards to you he reached for your hands, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips when you didn’t pull back. “Wanted to surprise you. I know you’ve been stressed with work and I wanted to do somethin’ special for you tonight. ‘M sorry I didn’t tell you I came back early.”

You wanted to be mad at him, but you couldn’t, not when he had taken the time to go to such extreme lengths to make tonight special for you, not when he had enlisted the help of Wanda and Natasha. “Depending on what you have planned I might forgive you,” you teased, a twinkle in your eye.

“Oh, you’ll forgive me,” he said, his voice lowering causing you to shiver in anticipation.

“You sound awfully sure, Bucky.”

He didn’t say anything, his smirk only growing before he pressed his lips to yours. The kiss started out slow and sweet, but it didn’t take long for him to deepen it. A moan spilled from you and just as you were about to reach out for him he was breaking the kiss.

“Take your coat off and wait here. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Dazed from the kiss it took a minute for his words to break through your fog filled mind and once they did you were left staring at his retreating back, a frown on your face as you wondered not for the first time since arriving what it was he was up to.

Following his instructions you unwound your scarf, unzipped your coat and kicked off your shoes. Folding your coat and scarf you placed them on the back of his couch. Crouching down you picked up your purse setting it by your coat before reaching for the box of cupcakes. Opening it up you frowned. Dropping them had resulted in them tipping onto the sides, large swaths of frosting sticking to the roof of the box. While they didn’t look as nice as when you had packed them they were still edible. Sort of.

“What’s in the box?” Bucky asked, his voice jarring you out of your worries over the dessert.

“Cupcakes.” You didn’t miss the way his eyes lit up or the way his tongue licked his lower lip and you couldn’t help giggling. “Red velvet, but I may have dropped the box. Once or twice.”

“They still look good. You made these?”

Nodding your head you held the box out to him watching as he dragged his finger through the cream cheese frosting that littered the top of the box. You wanted to tell him that he didn’t have to lie, you knew they looked like shit now, but when he brought his finger up to his mouth, his tongue darting out to slowly lick the frosting off any coherent thought left your mind.

“Delicious,” he whispered, his eyes roaming over you. Taking the box from you he placed it on the coffee table in front of his couch before grabbing your hand, interweaving your fingers he led you to the bathroom.

The lights in the bathroom were dimmed making the room appear cozy and romantic. The bathtub was filled to the brim with warm water and bubbles and the thought of Bucky dumping bubbles in there had you smiling. Inhaling you could smell the floral scents of roses and lavenders and a hint of vanilla.

“This is...,” you started, your words failing as your eyes drifted from the inviting bath to Bucky’s soft eyes.

“Use your words, doll,” he teased, his fingers grasping the hem of your shirt as he tugged it off of you, tossing it on the floor.

“This is amazing. I can’t believe you did this for me,” you breathed out, fighting the urge to cover yourself. You hadn’t expected him to be home so early so you had opted for something comfortable instead of sexy which left you in an older pink bra with straps that were always falling down and matching underwear. Bucky didn’t seem to care though because as he tugged your pants down you could hear him whispering about how beautiful you looked.

“Course I did this for you. Why wouldn’t I?” He asked, sounding almost offended at your words as his fingers unclasped your bra, sliding the loose straps down your arms before tossing it to the growing pile of clothes.

Shrugging your shoulders you bite your lower lip. “I don’t know. I guess because nobody has ever done something like this for me before. The most I’ve ever gotten for Valentine’s Day was candy... sometimes flowers. Never a surprise like this.” You gestured towards Bucky and the full bath as your fingers tug at the hem of his shirt. He gets the hint, pulling it from his body as you work on pulling his pants down his legs.

Standing in the bathroom, both of you in your underwear, the lights dimmed, you can’t help staring at him. The way his chest rises and falls with each steady breath he takes, the way his blue grey eyes seem to darken with lust as his gaze flickers between your own eyes and your lips. Standing there watching him you can feel your heart swell with love for him. Part of you is still upset that he’s been back for days without telling you, but standing here you can understand why he did it and you love him for it. So much.

Telling him without words you step forward closing the small gap of space, your arms wrap around his neck, your lips move over his in a kiss that starts off sweet before you deepen it.

Bucky rested his hands on your hips, a quiet groan tumbling from him when he feels your lips brushing over his. Almost a month without your touch, without your kisses had left him wanting to rip the last of your clothing off. When he saw you walk into his room earlier, saw the way your eyes lit up when you saw him, watched the way you ran to him excitement radiating off your frame he wanted to take you right there. Wants to take you right now. It would be so easy, but the way you seemed so surprised that someone would want to make this day, your favorite holiday so special has him melting in his love for you.

He’s never felt this way before. Never felt his heart swell when he sees someone, never had his thoughts consumed with one person and only one person. Never knew he could love someone. For so long after hydra he didn’t think he deserved to be loved, didn’t think he was capable of loving someone. Not after all the pain he had inflicted and caused over the years. Not until he met you did he even begin to realize what love meant.

Before you he never gave a second thought to Valentine’s Day. Sure, he knew about it, who didn’t? It was a day meant for lovers, something he was convinced he’d never get to experience. But now that he has you? Now all he wants to do is celebrate this day with you, celebrate it in a way that will make you never forget how much he loves you. You’ve managed to turn him into someone who didn’t care about this day to someone who wishes it was every day. You’ve turned him into a sap and he’s okay with that.

Sliding his hands from your waist down to the back of your thighs he picks you up easily, smiling into the kiss when he feels your gasp of surprise. Bucky lets out a soft groan when your legs wrap around his waist. Unintentionally grinding into you he groans again, the friction, the skin on skin contact almost too much for him, especially when your teeth are nipping at his bottom lip. He has to keep reminding himself to take this slow, but you’re making it incredibly difficult when all he can hear are your breathy little moans against his lips.

Carrying you into his room he places you gently down in the center of his bed. Your hair is spread out across his pillow, your breathing shallow as your chest rises and falls with each shaky breath. You look so beautiful, so fuckin’ beautiful he thinks as he hovers over you, one hand on your hip, the other resting on the pillow by your head. His lips are on yours, moving across your jaw, your cheek, down your neck. The needy little whines that spill from your swollen lips as he works over your neck has him groaning and grinding his hips in search of some kind of friction.

“Bucky, what about the bath?” You sighed, your head tilting to the side to grant him more access. Tangling your hands in his hair your fingers curl around his dark locks, tugging when he begins to suck on your neck. He parts your legs with his thigh as you grind against him, your back arching at the friction.

Grazing his teeth against your neck lightly he pulls back smirking when he sees the dark bruise he left on you. Trailing his lips lower he presses open mouth kisses down your chest before wrapping his lips around a hardened nipple. Digging his fingers into your hip he moans against your nipple enjoying the way your hands alternate between tugging and threading through his hair. “Later,” he mumbled, his warm, wet mouth moving to your other nipple to give it the same treatment.

Raking your fingers through his hair you let out quiet moan, your hips grinding against his thigh again, rougher this time and you can’t help the small smile that curls up your parted lips when you feel him groaning, the vibrations sending a thrill straight to your core. “I missed you, Bucky. So, so much,” you whined, neediness dripping from your voice, but you don’t care, all you care about is the act of his lips worshiping your body.

“Missed you too, Y/N,” Bucky murmured, pulling his lips away from your nipple as he kisses his way down your stomach. Hooking his thumbs into the waistband of your underwear he slowly tugs them down your legs, his darkened lust blown eyes locking on yours as he does so. Tossing your underwear to the floor he dips his head down pressing open mouth kisses along the inside of your right thigh.

He takes his time allowing his lips to get reacquainted with your body. Ignoring your groans of frustration he smirks up at you watching the way your chest rises and falls as his lips move up higher to where you need him the most. His breath is hot as it fans over your soaking core and though he wants nothing more than to dive right in and taste you he simply presses a chaste kiss against your mound as he moves to the inside of your left thigh peppering your warm skin with more open mouthed kisses.

“Bucky... please,” you begged. Your breathing is heavy and uneven and you don’t know how much longer you can last with his teasing kisses along the insides of your thighs, you need more, you need him to touch you, you need his lips on you. It’s torture and just as you’re about to beg him to do something, to do anything his tongue is diving into your wet folds. You don’t mean to, but your hips thrust up and you want to apologize, but the only sound that comes out of your mouth is an obscenely loud moan and you’re so thankful that the two of you are alone.

The sound of your moans, your breathy gasps, the way his name tumbles from your mouth spurs him on and any pretense of taking this slow, of taking his time with you is forgotten. Setting a punishing pace he slides his tongue in and out of your wet folds, an occasional moan slipping from his mouth as he works over you. The continuous rising motion of your hips as you grind against his face as him smirking. You’re so needy for him, his needy girl. Moving his lips to your clit he alternates between kissing and sucking as he slips a finger into you. Groaning at the way your walls clench around him he easily slips another finger in. You’re so wet and warm and as he grinds his hips against the bed searching for his own form of friction all he can think about is being inside of you.

A month without Bucky made you forget just how talented he was both with his fingers and his mouth. Your eyes are clenched shut, your fingers curled tightly around his locks and for a moment you’re worried about hurting him, but then you feel his long fingers curling against you as his mouth wraps around your clit and any worries you had vanish. “Oh god Bucky don’t stop,” you cried out.

He can’t help chuckling against you at the sound of your needy cries. Slipping a third finger into you he sucks on your clit, groaning when he feels your hands tugging on his hair again. He swears you’re going to pull his hair out by the roots, but, fuck he doesn’t even care right now. You taste so good, so fuckin’ good and he almost regrets not telling you he came home early. His metal hand slides up your stomach, up your chest to cup your breast. Massaging you roughly he tugs on your hardened nipple, smirking when he hears the whines that he pulls from you.

The contrast of his cold metal hand against the warmth of your breast and the way his lips are wrapped around your clit and the way his fingers are curling inside of you hitting that one spot is too much for you. Everything is too much right now and as you clench around his fingers you let out a strangled moan, your back arching off the bed.

“Bucky... Bucky I’m coming,” you moaned, your legs shaking, your heart pounding, a string of incoherent mumbles and whines and moans spilling from your lips as your orgasm wracks your body, your release drenching his fingers and his mouth.

Removing his lips from your clit he keeps his fingers inside of you as he kisses his way back up your body. His fingers curl against you, your walls clenching around him again and he knows it won’t take much to get you to reach your peak again. His hand massages your breast as he slips his fingers out of you slowly, his thumb rubbing circles over your clit as his lips meet yours in a deep kiss.

You can taste yourself on him, but you don’t care as you push your tongue into his mouth deepening the kiss. You’re so sensitive and though part of you wants to push his hand away from your clit you can’t, not when his thumb is moving a little faster and it feels so good, so much better than using your own fingers.

“Bucky,” you moaned against his lips, your breath heavy and shallow. Nipping at his lower lip with your teeth you tilt your head back, whining softly.

His lips are everywhere, pressing kisses against your forehead, your cheeks, your nose, your throat, your neck, your ear.

“You gonna come again, doll?” He whispered, his voice raspy, his thumb moving faster. “Come on, be my good girl and come for me. Show me how much you missed me.”

Nodding your head yes his words are all it takes for you to reach your second release of the night. Through the foggy haze of your release you can vaguely hear him murmuring good girl and those two words have you whining again. Guiding his lips back to yours you kiss him deeply.

“You okay?” He asked, his voice soft when he finally pulls back from the kiss.

“More than okay,” you breathed, your fingers hooking in the waistband of his boxers as you tug them down his legs. Chuckling he gets the hint as he pulls them off the rest of the way tossing them to the floor. Even though he’s brought you over the edge twice now you’re needy tonight and all you can think about is having him inside of you.

“Am I forgiven yet, doll?” He asked, his voice teasing as he repositions himself between your legs.

“Maybe.” Hitching your leg around his hip you sigh when you feel his tip pressing against your entrance.

He doesn’t say anything, his words getting stuck in the back of his throat as he pushes into you slowly. All he can think about is how wet and tight and warm you are. Giving you a minute to adjust he watches your face, watches the way your lips part, the way your head tilts back against his pillow, the way you’re fighting to keep your eyes open and on his as he pushes into you before bottoming out.

The loving look reflected in his eyes as he stares down at you along with his slow pace has you melting underneath him. It’s everything you thought sex on Valentine’s Day should be; romantic and loving. You want nothing more than to keep your gaze locked on his, to keep staring into his eyes for the rest of the night, but as he bottoms out your eyes flutter shut, the pleasure mixed with slight pain too much for you. The stretch is only slightly uncomfortable as you adjust to him, but after a minute you’re more than ready.

“Oh,” you sighed.

Licking his bottom lip he continues watching you, mesmerized both by the way you look so beautiful, but also by the quiet sounds of pleasure that you let out. Brushing his lips over yours he reaches for your hands, gently pinning them above your head as he interlaces your fingers together.

“I love you, Y/N,” he murmured, his lips pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth before working them across your jaw and down your neck. His pace is slow, his thrusts even and deep and on any other night the pace would be torture for him, for you too, but you seem more than content to keep things slow and loving and sweet.

“I love you too, Bucky, so much,” you moaned, your head tilting to the side as you gently squeeze his hands.

Though you miss being able to run your fingers through his hair, miss being able to tug on his hair when he presses against that one spot, you like this, it’s sexy and intimate and perfect. Hitching your other leg around his hip you moan at the new angle as he’s able to push deeper into you. Arching your back you press your hands up against his whining as he sucks gently on your neck.

“Don’t stop.”

Ever so slowly he picks up the pace of his hips, he can feel your walls clenching around him, can feel your breasts pressing against his chest every time you arch your back, can hear your breathing pick up and it takes all his self control not to slam his hips into yours. He presses a final kiss to your neck before moving his lips back over yours. Untangling his metal hand from yours he slowly slips it between your bodies, his thumb rubbing small circles over your clit.

With one hand free you reach up to cup his cheek, the skin beneath your hand is warm and flushed and as your eyes flutter open you offer him a small smile. You know that neither of you are going to last long, not after so long apart and as you stare into his eyes you commit this moment to memory. The way that he’s staring down at you as if you’re the most important thing in his life. The way his lips are parted, the way that his breathing is uneven, the groans that occasionally tumble from those perfect plump lips. The way his thrusts are deep and slow and oh so perfect for a holiday that celebrates love. The way that a light coat of sweat clings to his forehead. The way that your heart feels like it’s going to burst out of your chest from love for him.

“I love you,” you whispered again, your smile growing when you feel his lips brushing over yours. You don’t think you’ll ever tire of saying those words to him, of hearing him say them back to you. Arching your back as he pushes deep into you you whine against his lips. “I’m so close.”

"I love you too.”

His kisses are sweet. The way he’s rubbing your clit in slow, easy circles, the way his hips have picked up the pace, the way his teeth are nipping at your lower lip before swiping his tongue to ease the slight stinging, the way the bed is gently creaking underneath your rocking bodies and the way the headboard rhythmically bangs against the wall has you coming undone beneath him.

Digging your nails into the back of his neck you break the kiss gasping. His name falls from your lips in a series of breathless chants as your body quivers and shakes beneath his. The pleasure coursing through you is so intense you don’t think you’ll ever climb down from the high.

“Fuck,” Bucky called out pressing his forehead against yours.

His thrusts are sloppy, but between the sound of you chanting his name and the feeling of your walls tightening around him he doesn’t stand a chance. A couple more thrusts and he’s spilling inside of you with a low moan. Giving your hand a gentle squeeze he unlaces your fingers. Removing his thumb from your clit he kisses you softly, once, twice, three times which has you giggling. Worried about hurting you he slowly pulls out of you, taking note of the way you whine at the loss of him.

Unwrapping your legs from around his hips you sigh at the loss of him, it takes you a minute to gather your senses, your mind still foggy. “I think I forgive you now,” you teased, a twinkle in your eyes.

“I figured when you kept chanting my name,” he shot back, his voice playful as he gets up from the bed. Leaning down he presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “Stay here, ‘M gonna go run you that bath.”

“You’re amazing, you know that?” Letting out a happy sigh you watch as he disappears into the bathroom. Faintly you can hear him moving around, can hear the soft sound of water running and the promise of a hot bath where you can soak your tired muscles has melting into the comfort of his bed allowing your eyes to drift shut for a moment.

You’re not sure how long he’s gone for, but when you hear his footsteps you crack an eye open, a small smile on your lips as you watch him make his way towards you.

“C’mere, doll.” Hooking his hands underneath your knees he picks you up bridal style carrying you into the bathroom as you giggle, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

“You know you could have just said the bath was ready,” you teased.

“And miss the chance to pick you up and hear you laugh?”

Setting you down gently next to the tub you unwrap your arms from his neck watching as he steps into the bath. Extending his hand you accept following his lead as you also step in. The water is hot, the bubbles overflowing and sloshing over the side of the tub landing on the tiled flooring as he lowers himself down into the water. Once again you follow his lead lowering yourself down you sit in between his legs, your back pressed flush against his chest.

The conversation is kept light, the kisses kept sweet and the laughter almost a constant as the two of you bask in each other’s company and the relaxing bath. His movements are slow and loving as he takes extra care to wash you. It isn’t until you start to shiver when the water begins to cool off that he suggests you get out and go back to bed. Helping you out of the tub he wraps you in a soft, fluffy towel drying you off before slipping one of his tee shirts over you. Drying himself off he slips into a pair of boxers.

Though it’s only a short walk back to his room the two of you can’t keep your hands off each other. His hands are on your hips, yours are on his shoulders as he walks you backwards to his room. I love yous are murmured in between sweet kisses and quiet giggles. When your knees hit the edge of his bed he tightens his grip on your hips, his lips pulling back from yours, the loss causing you to sigh.

“Get comfortable, I’ll be back in a minute,” he murmured, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips.

Dropping your hands from his shoulders you do as he asked. Settling yourself back into his bed you pull the sheets around you, smiling as you watch him walking back towards you with the box of ruined cupcakes.

“Have I told you how much I love your cupcakes?”

“Have I told you how amazing you are?”

“Once or twice tonight,” he teased. Climbing into bed next to you he places the box of cupcakes on his lap. Picking one up he hands it to you before grabbing one for himself.

“Then have I told you how perfect tonight was? Seriously, Bucky tonight was everything I wanted and more,” you said softly.

“Ya know, doll, the nights not over yet. We still have a couple hours left to celebrate.”

“What’d you have in mind?”

Plucking the cupcake from your hand he tosses it back into the box ignoring your laughter as he places the box on his nightstand. His lips are yours in an instant as he pulls your body on top of his.

It was definitely a perfect Valentine’s Day and you couldn’t wait to see what he had planned for next years celebration.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #my writing

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valkyrieofthehighfae · 4 years ago

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Pairing: Wolffe x Danica Word Count: 2.5k Warnings: Mentions of hunting, but that aside, it’s pure fluff and humor Inspired partly by the magical David Bowie and Labyrinth with this lovely song Dani’s outfit and mask, Wolffe’s outfit (which is an amalgamation of two different suits; the vest from the first one, and the rest of it from the second) and his mask Tagging: @roseofalderaan, @catsnkooks, @clonewarslover55, @captainrexstan, @likeshootingstarsinthenightsky, @miss-spixx and @colorfulloverbatturkey

Winter had hit hard this year, frost coating the beautifully detailed windows of the palace in patterns of various flowers and swirls that had been etched into the glass. I was glad to be home for Yule, though, and wouldn’t trade this for the world.

“Here you go my love, some hot chocolate.” I smiled softly as I moved away from the window in the kitchen, a large mug in hand as I passed it over to Wolffe along with a freshly made croissant, the flaky crust sticking to my fingers as I let go of it.

“Thank you, cyare. Smells delicious.” He wore a gentle smile as I picked up my mug and we walked out into the grand hallway to make our way back to our room. Freyja and Tyr, our hunting hounds, were waiting patiently for us at the bottom of the stairs, their gems gleaming in the low lighting in the open foyer as they got to their feet and padded quietly up ahead of us.

“We need to take them out tomorrow for a run. I think they’ve been getting antsy thanks to us not going out much due to the snow.” I chuckled, taking a sip of hot chocolate and smiling into my mug when Tyr gave one sharp bark at Wolffe, wagging his tail excitedly.

“I’ll take them both with me when I go hunting with your father.” Wolffe replied and I choked on my drink, coughing hard while pounding my fist against my chest.

“You’re going hunting with my father tomorrow? Oh dear gods, did he rope you into hunting for the white stag?” I spluttered, rolling my eyes upon realizing what the hunt was for.

“Yes…?” Wolffe ventured after a moment of staring at me like I’d grown a second head. “Should I not go?” The confusion quickly became concern as I burst out laughing while pushing our door open.

“No, no, you should go, it would be an insult not to. I’m just disappointed that I’m going to miss this.” I set my things down on the desk and wrapped my arms around his waist, grinning up at the handsome man I’d fallen so in love with. “He’s been trying to catch that stag for years now and it always outsmarts him. Hope you’re a good shot with a bow darling, no blasters are allowed on the hunt.”

“A what?” Wolffe’s brow was furrowed and I burst out laughing all over again, having a hard time containing myself. Oh tomorrow was certainly going to be interesting. I would have to find a way to weasel out of helping decorate the ballroom for the masquerade so I could see this in all go down in person.

“Oh my love, you are certainly in for it tomorrow. Come on, we’re going to get you acquainted with my personal favorite weapon. Get dressed in something warm, darling heart.” I slipped away from his warmth, delving into the oversized walk in closet to put on a thick pair of pants and other winter clothes that would be suitable for the frozen world that waited for us just outside.

“Seems kind of archaic to use something like this to hunt with.” Wolffe muttered as I handed him a bow, studying the beautifully crafted weapon closely with a scowl on his face.

“Get used to it love, you’ll be becoming well acquainted with it by the end of tomorrow’s hunt.” I chuckled, grabbing my bow and two quivers of arrows before whistling for our hounds to come with us out to the archery range. “We choose to go old school with our weapons during this time. It’s our way of honoring our ancestors and the gods. You’re a quick study, I’m sure you’ll pick up on it faster than you think.”

~*~*~

I watched in shock and awe as father, Wolffe, and some of the other men came riding up to the palace from the woods, the white stag apprehended along with a few giant boars that were trussed and laid across the back of a couple of the ronki. Wolffe was holding onto the stag’s halter, smirking just slightly when he caught sight of me staring at him from the ballroom window.

“I’ll be damned, he actually caught the fucking thing.” I whispered while my mother came up to see what was going on.

“Is that…? No! They actually got it?” Mother gasped, covering her mouth with her hand.

“I told you Wolffe was something special. I believe you owe me fifty gold.” I grinned and dropped my decorations before gathering my skirts and hurrying out to meet up with the others, stopping just shy of the stag. Up close he was magnificent to behold, his white fur gleaming with flecks of gold in the slowly setting sun, honeyed eyes blinking calmly as I slowly reached up to stroke his face softly, grinning like a fool the entire time.

“I never thought I’d see this happen. You finally caught him.” Mother had come out as well, laughing as she went to my father’s side, embracing him tightly.

“Not me, mirr qiaal, but Commander Wolffe. He’s the mind behind the trap that caught the beast. He’s also the reason we’ve got three giant boar for tonight’s feast.” Father was practically beaming as he bragged about Wolffe’s hunting prowess, making the soldier clear his throat and rub the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Come on, let’s get our new friend here to the stable for some food and rest before we release him back into the woods later,” I took the lead from Wolffe, clicking my tongue to get the stag to follow after me. “So how was it? Father didn’t bore you too badly, did he?” I glanced over towards Wolffe, eyebrows raised slightly when he shook his head.

“Not at all, cyar’ika. It was an interesting experience, not to mention it’s given me some ideas on training the rest of the pack in some different tactics in fighting the tin cans. Tyr here was quite the helper, weren’t you?” Wolffe smiled down at the Fae hunting hound who chuffed at him, pleased to get praised for doing a good job. “Freyja too, of course.” He added in when my hound yapped at him.

“Of course she did. My baby is a good hunter, aren’t you?” I cooed, kneeling down to scratch the white and purple hound behind her floppy ears, grinning when she leaned into me. “We need to go get ready for the masquerade. Father did give you a heads up that he and mother plan on announcing our engagement tonight, right?” I bit my lip anxiously as I got to my feet, Wolffe immediately wrapping his arms around me in a warm hug that had me feeling far more relaxed than I’d felt all day.

“Yeah, we discussed it. The pack and General Koon are coming in for the party, too. So be prepared for things to get loud.”

“Ah, yes, of course. I’m looking forward to it though, you know that I love them as much as I love you.” I leaned into him, arm wrapped around his waist tightly. It was true too; I’d quickly formed a tight bond with his brothers. Shedding blood with them, protecting them, going to bat for them when the time called for it really did strengthen the bond I had formed with them. It brought us together, made us like a tight knit family unit that I was honored to be part of. “Alright my love, I’ll see you at the masquerade. I’m off to go get ready.” I stood on tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek before bounding off, Freyja hot on my heels as we headed up to meet with my attendants and mother to get ready

~*~*~

I held tight to the railing of the crystalline staircase, my beautiful mask slightly obscuring my line of sight. I had decided on a beautiful white deer mask, with delicate silver patterns emblazoned into the white leather, though I was beginning to wonder if this was the right choice considering I either had to look down to walk or just hope for the best that I wouldn’t slip in my heels and fall on my ass. It was a beautiful mask though and it went nicely with Wolffe’s choice in mask, so I figured I could suck it up just for tonight and pretend that I was actually graceful and not an absolute walking disaster that tripped over air.

Wolffe was waiting at the foot of the stairs with my father, his eyes going wide behind his intricately carved wolf mask as I carefully made my way towards him, my grin hidden behind my mask at his reaction.

“You look beautiful, cyar’ika.” He murmured while reaching for my hand, lifting it to his lips to press a gentle kiss on my knuckles.

“Thank you, mirr haesd. You look rather dashing yourself. We should put you in a suit more often.” I teased him while looking him over. He really did look so good in the suit one of the advisors picked out for him. It was a simple white shirt with a nice, navy blue color with this gold filigree pattern that really brought out the golden undertones in those beautiful honey brown eyes of his. The black pants were tight, but not restrictive and made his ass look damn good, though I wasn’t going to point that out right here in front of my parents.

“You two look lovely together. Now remember, upon announcing your engagement, you two will be leading the first dance. Are you both ready for that? You have your song chosen, yes?” Mother was already back into proper Queen mode, her voice brisk and firm as she glanced our way.

“Yes mother, we’re prepared. It’s not as if we’ve spent the whole week preparing or anything.” I tried not to roll my eyes, but it was a challenge really. We’d spent all week rehearsing our entrance as well as the waltz we’d chosen to go with our song, it wasn’t like we’d slacked off or anything, though I understood why she was concerned. The other Courts would be here as well for the announcement and it was a big deal since Wolffe and I would eventually take our place as future King and Queen when she and father passed on into ususri'as lriiv at some point.

“Mmm good luck with this one, Wolffe.” Mother sighed dramatically, a playful smile on her face despite her words.

“Are you ready? We’re going to be flooded with congratulations all evening and it can be a little overwhelming. If you need to step away for a few to try and catch your breath, let me know, okay daesard ula?” I murmured softly, squeezing his hand gently in mine. He nodded in response, taking my arm in his, mirroring the way my parents were positioned as the doors opened and took the lead in walking us into the ballroom where a much larger crowd than I’d originally planned on greeted us with cheers and smiles.

“Presenting: King Hakon and Queen Anja, the royal majesties of the Court of Stars,” One of the attendings called as mother and father stepped out ahead of us, waving to the people and stepping aside for Wolffe and I. “And with them are the crown princess and commander of the Court of Stars army, Princess Danica and her fiancé, the esteemed Commander Wolffe of the Grand Army of the Republic, leader of the famed Wolfpack, honorary knight of the Court of Stars for his bravery at the battle of Elvegarden.”

Wolffe and I smiled, lifting our free hands in greeting, and I had to bite back a laugh as the Wolfpack howled and cheered the loudest of everyone attending, much to the chagrin of my parents who glanced our way with raised brows. We could only shrug in response, unsure of what exactly they wanted us to say other than his brothers were clearly very supportive of us.

“Queen Anja and I are pleased to present the future of our Court to you! Wolffe and Danica will make a fine King and Queen, ruling with fairness and wiseness that will serve them well in the years to come. Tonight we not only celebrate the gods, we celebrate the love of these two souls bonded together! Skal!” Father had taken up a drinking horn that one of the many servants were passing around, raising it in a toast in our honor. My cheeks were beginning to ache from the smile that lit my face up and I raised the mask up enough to take a drink from the drinking horn I’d been presented, handing it off upon finishing the bubbly champagne that left my head swimming with just how strong it was. I held onto Wolffe tightly as we descended the elaborate crystalline staircase to the ballroom floor, leaning into him as we began the first dance of the evening together.

“Well, how does it feel knowing you’re going to be a future King?” I laughed softly as we went through the motions of the waltz we’d chosen. A rotary waltz was simple yet elegant to watch and it worked beautifully with our chosen song, plus it was quick to learn considering we’d only had the week. Everything seemed to fade into the background as we danced, Wolffe’s hands warm against my skin, a soft smile that was reserved for moments like this lighting his face up with a gentleness that sent my heart into a flutter of quickened beats that matched to the tempo of the music. Other couples whirled around us, but my eyes were only gazing up at the one person who mattered more to me than anyone, a lovesickness striking me in my weakest spot.

“It’s strange, but with you by my side, I know we can handle it. We make quite the team.” He murmured, his hand squeezing my waist gently as he turned us about.

“I'll leave my love between the stars. As the pain sweeps through, makes no sense for you. Every thrill is gone. Wasn't too much fun at all, but I'll be there for you-ou-ou as the world falls down. As the world falls down.” A Fae singer croons away into a microphone as we dance across a floor of starlight, lost in each other’s eyes, ignoring everyone around us. Right now, it was only us as far as I was concerned.

“No matter what happens, I will always be here by your side, mirr ruya. Ir en irruisr eln irrui esa naila.” It was a vow that I planned on never breaking. The song came to an end and Wolffe swept me up into his arms, lifting the masks away from our faces, and kissed me hard, his hands pressing flat against the bare skin on my back. Whistles and cheers echoed around us as I wrapped my arms around his neck, smiling into the kiss that left me feeling lighter than air. *** cyare: beloved cyar’ika: darling, sweetheart mirr qiaal: My queen mirr haesd: my heart daesard ula: dearest one mirr ruya: my love Ir en irruisr eln irrui esa naila: I am yours and you are mine

#Kat writes #Wolffe x Danica #fluff #ballroom dancing #masquerade fic

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deprough · 4 years ago

Text

Snowballs and Saviors

11/30/2020 Dincember Prompt: Snow

My Dincember prompts are part of a serial story I’m telling. This is the first part of the story.

“What do you think, Sheriff?”

Corrie glanced up at the tall man and pursed her lips. “I think,” she said slowly, “that we don’t have much choice.”

Kado picked up the reins of his gurt and clicked once. The wooly herbivore started forward, and Corrie’s gray gurt, Cursehead, followed before she could give the command. Through the gunship’s front windows, she saw the armored man notice them, then disappear into his ship. A second later, the ramp lowered into the snow.

As they drew closer, Corrie asked herself once again if she was really lucky enough to have a bounty hunter drop into her backyard at this exact moment. If he was who Old Relston claimed, he could be exactly the person they needed. Corrie distrusted luck like that, though, even when the man stepped into view and she admitted it was probably that guy.

“Welcome to Zalzus,” Corrie called as they came to a stop in front of the ship. “You’ve landed outside the town of Libu. I’m Sheriff Corde Melne, and this is my deputy, Kado Soummu. May I ask your business, sir?”

That black visor bounced between Kado and her a couple of times. She wondered if their knitted garments, handmade from dyed gurt wool, looked cheap and primitive to him. “Do you always greet arrivals so directly?”

“No,” Corrie said honestly, her breath frosting the air. His didn’t, which meant his helmet contained it. Bet it has environmentals in there. “But I’m hoping you’re the Mandalorian who travels with a kid.” Just saying it made her uneasy.

The man looked to the side, telegraphing irritation. What’s the point in covering your face if you don’t control your body language? she wondered. “For your sake, you’d better be offering me a job.”

“What else would we want?” Kado asked curiously; Corrie swallowed her annoyance with her underling. Kado would someday be a great cop, but he was still naive. Someday, he’d get that jaded shell he needed to be a peace officer in the Outer Rim; sadly, it might be during their current crisis.

“People want lots of things from me,” the Mandalorian stated.

“I’m sure you have your charms,” Corrie said wryly, “but I need your skills, not your vagueness. A Hutt prison ship has crashed not far from our village. The Hutt in question won’t round them up, and we’ve already had one death. You up for taking in twenty men?”

“Can you pay me for twenty bounties?” he asked bluntly.

“No,” Corrie said. “We’ll give you what we can, about half the Guild rate per head, the full resources and support of the sheriff's office, and room and board as long as you’re working for us.”

“Who died?” the Mandalorian asked.

Corrie blinked, thrown by the sudden topic change. “Pardon?”

“You said you had a death. Who died, and how?” he asked.

Drawing a deep breath and trying to not remember the scene, she said, “My uncle, the last sheriff. Vinor Cyone. He tried to track one down. We only found his bones, but we think his spine was snapped.”

The man stilled or stiffened; Corrie couldn’t quite tell what changed about his stance, but he’d definitely had a reaction to that news. “My condolences,” he said after a moment. “How did his body decompose so quickly?”

“One of the prisoners is a Wookie. I can’t say his name right, but his nickname is Maneater.” Corrie didn’t have to say more; they all heard his sharp inhale.

“Where am I staying?” the Mandalorian asked.

“My mother’s house,” Corrie replied, feeling relief and hope flood her. She kept her voice neutral; there’d be time for relief once he’d proven he was as good as his reputation. “She’s got space. Do you have a bike or somethin’ up on that ship?”

He didn’t, of course, and so that was how Corrie ended up with a Mandalorian sitting behind her on Curse’s fuzzy back. They weren’t quite touching, but every so often, the gurt’s sway bumped their bodies together. He did have a child with him, not that Corrie had seen much of it with the bassinet sealed against the cold. Amusingly, he had the same model she’d used, though his seemed to have some modifications.

He remained silent on the ride into town, which was fine with Corrie. She pulled her yellow scarf back up over her nose, grateful for the warmth. The kids were out, playing in the snow, and they stopped to stare as the group rode into town. “Your kids really seem to like snow,” the man said suddenly.

Corrie frowned a second before she caught his misunderstanding. “It just snowed last night. Zalzus isn’t an ice world. We have seasons. For the kids, snow means two things: fun and Lifeday is coming.”

He grunted. “Your town celebrates Lifeday,” he said flatly.

“Yep,” she said, wondering what he had against the holiday. He didn’t elaborate or ask further, and it wasn’t her business.

She stopped in front of Mom’s house, turning and offering her arm for him to dismount. He slid down as Mom stepped out, beaming. Like Corrie, she was stout and short, with gray curls instead of brown. “Welcome, sir! I’m Brama Cyone, and my home is your home. What is your name?”

“People call me Mando,” he said simply, removing his gear from Koda’s gurt.

Wondering if he actually ever answered questions, Corrie pointed at the next building over. “That’s my house. Mom and I share the stable behind the house. One of our folks is loaning you a gurt, if you can ride.”

“I ride.” He turned to Brama. “Can I see my room now?”

“Of course!” Brama led him into the wooden two-story house. The bassinet followed him like a loyal pet.

Koda turned to her. “Wow, he’s… I don’t know. Weird.”

“He’s a man who travels the edges of civilized life making a living off people who break the law,” Corrie said, pulling her gray wool coat tighter around her. “I’d be more worried if he were normal. I’ll see him settled and meet you at the jail.”

~ * ~ * ~

“-- and this is Terian Novex,” Corrie said wearily, glad they were almost through the files. Her five other deputies, even Talee, the nightwatch, had met their hunter and stayed for the briefing. Corrie pulled up the next file, scraping her fingers through her brown hair as she waited for it to load. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched their guest; he’d sat down in the wooden chair at their table. His shiny, high-tech armor looked out of place in the simple whitewashed room. It probably also kept him warmer than the rest of them; the Jail’s single pane windows leaked the heat from the stove.

The click of knitting needles and carding wool filled the room’s silence as they waited for the ancient holo projector to render the image. Corrie had considered asking her deputies to not work on their side projects, but dismissed the idea. If Mando was uncomfortable, he could speak up and ask them to stop. A grainy image of the Zabrax woman appeared on the holo and Corrie started again. “She’s a hitman for a rival Hutt--”

“Half of these bounties are,” Mando sighed. He sounded tired, which was somewhat gratifying.

“Hey, does your kid want to go outside and play?” Koda asked, drawing attention back to the bassinet. The alien child inside stared hopefully out the window, watching the other children at play behind the jail. As if sensing their attention, he turned and looked at them. All ears and eyes, Corrie thought again.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Mando said, sounding nervous.

“It’s safe,” Corrie said.

“Where I go, he goes.”

“Poor guy,” she said, without thinking, and sure enough, their guest visibly bristled. “Calm down, I mean he wants to play, and we have a bit more work. Hold on.” She went to the backdoor and opened it. “Nuia!” she bellowed, and the girl turned and trotted through the snow toward them.

The sturdy teen stomped off her boots and came in. “Yes, sheriff?” she asked, but her eyes had already fallen on the baby and a besotted smile crossed her face. She waved at the baby, who stared at her, then waved back.

“Can you take the little one outside? Keep an eye on him but let him play with the tots?” she asked.

“I’d love to--”

“Where I go, he goes,” Mando interrupted.

Corrie turned to him. “Then go play.”

His head pulled back. “What?” Her deputies, used to her way of doing things, grinned and rose to stretch and get hot drinks.

“He’s a kid. He’s bored stupid here with us. So if the only way he gets to play is if you play with him, then go play.” Corrie waved her hand toward the door. “I need a break, and maybe you’ll realize by the end of it that we need you more than you need us, and we’ll protect you little one like our own.”

“You have children?” he asked.

“We all do. I personally have two. Raina’s playing with the tots and Lonneric's probably in a snow fort ambusing the other warriors-in-the-making.” Corrie waved again. “Just go.”

She feigned indifference until he was outside; then all seven of them crept to the window to watch. Mando stood outside stiffly, watching his little green child helping the baker’s daughter build a lopsided snow tower. “He’s hopeless,” Koda finally said. “Stiff as rock.”

“Yep.” Corrie pulled on her coat, gloves, and boots again.

“Whatcha doin’?” Kend asked, his playful grin telling her he already knew.

“Just checking on things,” she said innocently as she slipped out the front door, pulling on her woolen hat. She eased around the side of the building, scooping up two handfuls of snow and pressing them into a ball.

It was perfect -- heavy and wet without being drippy, compacting into a nice ball in her gloves. She peered around the corner, pleased to see his back toward her. She glanced at the window to see Koda shaking his head in bemusement.

More than a few of the kids had seen her; Lonneric had already followed her lead, starting to make snowballs as fast as he could instead of throwing them as soon as they were complete.

The kids staring at her gave him warning, and he half-turned toward her. Recognizing her window of opportunity closing, she threw the ball at his helmet. It wasn’t the best example for the children, but if you wore a helmet to a snowball fight, you were asking for headshots, in her book.

She hit her mark, smearing white powder over the side of his head. He jumped and spun, hand on his blaster and for a second, she thought she’d made a terrible mistake. Lonneric had already followed her lead, and this blow hit his chest. Mando let go of his blaster, and Corrie relaxed, even as she scooped up more snow. “No,” he told her firmly, “don--”

One of the Kelshin twins nailed him in the face, and then Mando was at the heart of a flurry of snowballs. He put his hands up and crouched, but didn’t seem to know how to react to the kids pelting him.

A snowball nailed her, and Corrie shrieked playfully. “Traitors!” she shouted as she also became a target. Her own son hit her next with a loose ball that exploded across her shoulder.

“Down with the adults!” Lonneric shouted, and the battle cry echoed across the field.

Laughing, Corrie fought her way to Mando’s side. “C’mon!” she cried, pulling on his arm. “Run!”

After a moment of hesitation, he followed, stumbling after her to the back door of the jail. They staggered inside in a rain of balls, then pushed the door shut sharply. A few more snowballs hammered the door; then they could hear the children cheering.

Corrie straightened up and pulled off her wet gloves. She looked at Mando and laughed. “You look like a snowman decided to become a Mandalorian.”

He looked down at himself; the snow had stuck to his clothing but not his silver armor. “You look like an insane woman who just got into a snowball fight with kids,” he said sharply.

Corrie held her smile with effort as she shed her hat and scarf. “Yeah, but I bet you’re ready to work again.”

He didn’t answer her, and as she hung up her outwear, she continued, “We were talking about Terian Novex--”

This was going to be a long partnership, but she didn’t regret dragging him into the snowball fight. They’d both needed it.

#the mandalorian #MandoFanfiction #fanfiction #mandalorian fanfiction #deprough does dincember #dincember #Dincember 2020

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babbushka · 5 years ago

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White Christmas

Clyde Logan x Reader ; 1.9k

I'm dreaming of a white Christmas

Just like the ones I used to know

Where the treetops glisten and children listen

To hear sleigh bells in the snow

You’re in the kitchen finishing up the very last decorations on the gingerbread house, when Sadie sighs. She’s been huffin’ and puffin’ all evening, much to your dismay. You had hoped that buildin’ the homemade house from scratch would be a fun activity to end off Christmas Eve, but your normally sunshiney niece was practically gloom and glum all night.

She reaches for the final perfect gumdrop, but you use your hand to block her, givin’ her a questioning look, wondering what in tarnation is going on in that mind of hers. Christmas was her favorite holiday, it always had been, and for the first time in years all the Logans had decided to celebrate together, everyone staying in the nice new house you and Clyde bought after the heist.

“Do you think it’ll come tonight?” Sadies finally chews her lip and asks, pouts with those big sad eyes of a child whose dream has been crushed.

Your heart aches, knowin’ what she means. You both glance out the window, to the decidedly un-snowy front yard. In the reflection of the glass, you can see the disappointment on her face, and your heart aches.

“I don’t know sweatpea, but I hope so.” You say, twisting her ponytail affectionately.

“We’ve had snow every year.” Sadie sighs again, plucking off one of the red and green M&M decorations on the roof of her house, popping it in her mouth and chewing noisily before sighing once again with a, “I hate global warming.”

“Me too, me too.” You give a sympathetic smile, pulling her into your arms for a little while, a nice reassuring hug. Before you let her go, you try to get her back in the spirit by whispering real quiet so only she can hear, “But instead of worrying about that for right now, why don’t you run up and get ready for bed, hm? Santa Claus can’t come if you’re not asleep by eight.”

That perks Sadie right up, and before you know it she’s bolting out of your arms with a glance at the clock, realizing it’s already seven-thirty.

“Shoot, you’re right!” She gasps, “Goodnight Uncle Clyde! G’night Aunt (Y/N)!” She gives you each a kiss on the cheek, you in the kitchen and your husband on the couch in the living room, before running into one of the guest bedrooms which she has claimed.

You chuckle fondly at the renewed excitement, and with the gingerbread houses finished, you grab a mug from the counter and fill it with icy cold ‘nog.

You hang in the doorway for a moment, simply admiring the view before you. Clyde is relaxed on the couch in his Christmas pajamas – something you purchased for the whole family so you could all match. He’s got his prosthetic off, put away somewhere in the master bedroom, and his hair is freshly washed and fluffy. From the angle he’s sitting at, all you can see is the strong contour of his profile, and you get the sudden urge to kiss his nose.

I'm dreaming of a white Christmas

With every Christmas card I write

"May your days be merry and bright

And may all your Christmases be white"

“Is that the news?” You ask, and he perks up at the sound of your voice, that permanent scowl of his fading away to something much more soft and sweet.

“Yep.” He says, forever a man of many words.

“Has the weather come on yet?” You ask hopefully, but he sighs in that very Logan way that they all do, and you already know the answer before he’s tellin’ you.

“Nope.” He tells you anyway. When he sees your eyes sadden, he reaches out to you, beckons you with his hand and a, “C’mere darlin’, sit with me?”

You sit on the armrest of the couch, and he wraps his arm around your waist. You lean your head on top of his and offer him the mug you brought, still nice and chilled from the frozen bowl you had poured it into just shy of an hour ago.

“Want some eggnog?” You offer, but he shakes his head, tears his gaze away from the news – still no weather – to look at you, smile at you.

“Not if you can’t have any.” He says, and you kiss him softly, just a chaste little something when you push it into his hand.

“There’s no brandy, I made it special so Sadie could have some too.” You explain and his whole face lights up at that, makin’ you chuckle and card your fingers through his hair gently as his huge mouth gulps down half the mug in one swig.

“When d’ya think we can tell everyone?” He asks, throwing a glance to your stomach, and you can’t help but laugh at the cream that sticks to his moustache.

“Not for two more weeks, just to be safe.” You reply, and he nods in understanding.

You steal the mug back from him for just a moment, just long enough to catch a sip or two before letting him finish it off, and you lean your head back down on top of his, feeling safe and warm in his loving embrace as the low light from the TV flickers on and on, as the two of you wait for a forecast.

The whole family has gone to sleep by the time you and Clyde decide to turn off all the lights and make your way upstairs.

With Jimmy across state lines to see his daughter more, the whole gang didn’t have much opportunity to get together all that often. You figured that if there were any time of the year to celebrate with your loved ones, it was Christmas, so you managed to convince Clyde to open up the house to his brother and sister, as well as some of your family and friends.

All in all, absolutely every one of the spare rooms was filled for a long weekend of all sorts of traditions. Sadie was so excited to see the new house, she ran around and around the place, gawkin’ and gaspin’ at the newness of it all.

You knew it shouldn’t make you feel so proud and petty, but well, compared to the kind of livin’ Bobby Jo had managed to secure for herself, you thought you did pretty damn good.

But Sadie was snoozin’ in her bed, as were everyone else. You thought about the poem, how Clyde had read it aloud to the whole group, his deep baritone the perfect pitch for the smooth rumblings about sugar plums and sleighs and tiny reindeer. You thought about how they were all dreamin’ themselves, the house so quiet as you both made the rounds to switch off the lights on the tree, blow out all the candles.

It’s only when you’re passing under the doorway to go into the kitchen and help Clyde put away the eggnog and gingerbread houses, that you see the little bundle of green that’s been taped up above your heads, your husband appearing just on the other side of the door.

“Would ya looky here,” He says shyly, always ever so shy your husband, shy as he smile and quirks a brow as he points up to the, “Mistletoe.”

“Now who put that there?” You wonder teasingly, softly, eyes already closing and leanin’ in, lips puckering.

“Someone smart.” Clyde whispers, arms coming around your waist, big warm hand splayed out on your back, pressing you close to him.

On the in the background Bing Crosby and Danny Kaye are singing in red velvet in front of a live audience, and you let your heart swell with the romance of it all.

I'm dreaming of a white Christmas

Just like the ones I used to know

Where the treetops glisten and children listen

To hear sleigh bells in the snow

After smoochin’ in the doorway, the two of you can barely keep your hands off of one another, and he walks you back back back against the kitchen counter. He’s so strong, sometimes you forget how strong he is, your husband, forget those special ops muscles. He’s eager, excited, his kisses more and more urgent as he maneuvers you so that he can stand between your legs as your breath puffs and pants against one another.

Y’all hadn’t had much opportunity for any sex, with the entire house packed with family, and you knew you couldn’t reasonably get away with anything in this moment, but it was still thrilling to try. He’s handsy, big warm palm sliding up your blouse and gropin’ grabbin’ pinchin’ at ya.

You only giggle and bite at his lips, bite at his big cheesin’ grin, that special smile only you ever get to see.

You lean back enough to just get a good look at him – and that’s when you notice it.

“Clyde!” You gasp softly, hopping off the counter and immediately moving to the living room once more.

“Hmm?” He frowns, concerned and following you hot on your tail, not seeing what you’re seeing.

But you see it, the soft white flurries that flutter down from the black of night. The porch-lights are on and you can catch bits and pieces of the fluff. Your first thought is of Sadie, how she’s going to get to wake up to a winter wonderland, get to wake up to snowmen and snow angels and maybe even a snowball fight.

But your second thought, is that you want to feel the snowflakes on your face, on your tongue, and even though it’s late, you turn to Clyde with a pleading, hopeful expression.

“Can we go outside?” You ask, your hands braced on his chest, practically unable to contain yourself.

He smiles and kisses your cheeks, your nose, your forehead, until you’re laughin’ and coverin’ your mouth to try and keep quiet, so as to not wake up the rest of the family.

“Only if you’re warm enough darlin’, I don’t wantcha catchin’ cold.” He says softly, appraising you in your pajamas, wondering if he should stick you in ten more layers.

But then you’re grinning up at him, pulling him by the hand to stick your feet into slippers to protect from the chill of the snow that’s already starting to stick, and you toss him one of your beaming grins with a twinkle in your eye as you tell him, “I won’t be if you’re holdin’ me.”

You don’t stay out long, just enough time to get the cool bite of the gentle breeze on your face, jack frost nipping at your nose, as they say. Clyde is right by your side, hand on your waist, walking around and around the yard with you in the dark, the only light coming from the strands of icicle lights that Jimmy had helped hang up, and the porch lamps.

It’s not much right now, but you just know that come morning, Sadie’s going to be laughing and shouting and wakin’ y’all up to come outside.

So for now, it’s enough that it’s here, enough that you can chuckle softly as you brush the snow out of Clyde’s hair.

I'm dreaming of a white Christmas

With every Christmas card I write

"May your days be merry and bright

And may all your Christmases be white"

-----------

Tagging my Clyde lovin’ friends! <3 @autumnlovesadam @dreamboatdriver @fullofbees @adamsnackdriver @kyloxfem @formerly-anonhamster @kylo-renne @callmehopeless @magikevalynn @scheherazades-horcrux @whiskey-bumblebee

#reader insert #clyde logan x reader #clyde x reader #logan lucky #christmas fic #my writing #12DoO #12 days of oneshots

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yatorihell · 4 years ago

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In The Darkness Chapter 55 - Legilimency

Noragami x Harry Potter AU

Words: 3,414

Summary: Yato returns to Hogwarts and begins lessons with Madame Kofuku.

Also available on Yatorihell AO3

No more visions plagued Yato after that night, but after what had happened to Daikoku, it had left Yato on edge.

Sakura reassured him that things would be ok, and that she would call him as soon as anything happened, but it did little to ease Yato’s qualms about the Sorcerer’s Legilimency.

Yato found Yukine and Hiyori in a single cabin on the Hogwarts Express when he boarded the train at Platform 9 ¾. He slid the door shut and slumped down into the seat opposite the pair and quickly, yet miserably, told them about the new developments.

They listened in silence, mouths slightly agape as Yato described Daikoku’s assault, and the Sorcerer’s new power over him and what that could mean if he found out about the Order.

“Madame Kofuku can help you, Yato,” Hiyori reaffirmed Sakura’s assurance. “And you haven’t had any visions in over a week which is good.”

Yato mumbled a half-hearted agreement. His eyes slid over the window as he felt Yukine’s piteous eyes on him, watching as the Hogwarts Express pulled out of the station and began its long, smoky journey up into the Scottish Highlands.

The sun had long set when they arrived at Hogsmeade and a crisp frost was already forming on what was left of the greenery that led up the track to Hogwarts.

Black carriages awaited them at the station, pulled by Thestrals rather than horses. Of course, no one else could see them except Yato and Bishamon, who had gratefully climbed into the same carriage as him, Yukine, Hiyori and Kazuma. They must have assumed that the carriages pulled themselves up the barren track and under the withered trees, but Yato and Bishamon could see the Thestrals pulling their weight and their tails flick as they trotted their way up to the castle.

They sat in near silence, huddled in their robes and scarves and listening to the sound of the wheels clattering closer to the castle. The turrets emerged first between the branches of the bare thicket, the windows flickering with candles that welcomed its students’ home.

Hogwarts was as warm as ever, melting away the winter chill as students filed their way into the castle and splitting up to unpack in their respective dormitories where their luggage was already waiting.

Yato’s unpacked quickly, throwing his clothes into the chest at the end of his bed and placing assorted knickknacks into his bedside drawer alongside the previous terms junk he had collected. He looked over the hand mirror for a second before brushing away his intrusive thoughts about his private thoughts being privy to his enemy.

Yato placed the mirror in the drawer gently and slid it close with a slight thud. He kicked his suitcase under the bed and left the dormitory, heading towards the Great Hall for dinner.

The only thing he could do now was hope that Sakura was right about Occlumency lessons.

After their first training session of the year, Yato made his way to Madame Kofuku’s office in one of the turrets of the castle. They only had a limited amount of time to train now, but who knew, maybe the Ministry wouldn’t allow practical magic to return the following school year.

Yato paused outside Madame Kofuku’s door when he reached it, then, taking a deep breath, he knocked and entered.

The office was lined with shelves of glass jars containing plants and wiggly bits Yato didn’t want to identify. Dog-eared books lay along the shelves and the fireplace crackled gently, throwing shadows shadow against the far wall as he stepped into the room.

Yato’s attention was drawn to the desk where Madame Kofuku sat with a shallow stone basin engraved with runes and symbols in front of her.

Yato was perplexed by the object, but Madame Kofuku smiled at Yato despite the questioning look.

“Hello, Yato.”

“Hello, Miss,” Yato said awkwardly.

He shut the door behind him and took a seat opposite the desk when she gestured to it. Yato eyed the basin for a moment before looking to his professor.

“So, we’re going to be doing Occlumency in private lessons once a week until you have enough control over your mind, ok?” Madame Kofuku said. She folded her hands on the desk and cocked her head to the side, pink curls bouncing around her face.

Yato nodded. Sakura had said the arrangement would be something like this.

“Occlumency is magical defence of the mind against external penetration,” Madame Kofuku began, reciting a textbook definition. “Those who are skilled at this can hide their true feelings and memories from a Legilimens without detection.”

“Can the Sorcerer know what I’m thinking right now?” Yato asked.

The question had plagued him all throughout the remainder of his Christmas break, but it was somewhat put to rest by Madame Kofuku’s shake of the head.

“Not when you’re at Hogwarts. We are protected by ancient spells and charms to protect our students. And the Sorcerer is far away from here.” Madame Kofuku added the last part as an afterthought, but Yato wouldn’t count on it.

Madame Kofuku continued, resting a finger on her chin ponderously.

“It seems that you can share the Sorcerer’s thoughts and emotions whenever you’re unconscious – such as sleeping. It has only happened once -,” Yato nodded his affirmation, “but Sakura thinks its best to teach you to block him out.”

At this, Madame Kofuku pulled her wand from her desk drawer and raised it to her temple. When she withdrew it, a silvery substance came away, stretching from her temple to wand like a thick spider’s web. The cord broke, and it floated down into the basin where it swirled silvery-white as a gaseous liquid.

“This,” Madame Kofuku said, “is a Pensieve.”

Yato had read about these magical objects. They were rare, personal items that allow a wizard to extract memories and view them, either by the memory-holder or by someone else. They were often buried with their owner as the memories belonged with the wizard, but it seemed this one belonged to Hogwarts.

Twice more Madame Kofuku repeated this process, dropping silvery webs into the Pensieve. She then placed her wand in her mouth, picked up the basin, turned and put it on a shelf behind her. She turned back to Yato, taking her wand in her hand.

“Stand up and take out your wand,” Madame Kofuku instructed.

Yato got to his feet, feeling nervous. They faced each other with the desk between them.

“I want you to clear your mind, and all of your emotions.” Madame Kofuku said softly. “Close your eyes and let yourself be empty.”

Yato closed his eyes, trying not to frown. Thoughts invaded his mind, but he kicked them out as quickly as they came. He stared into the darkness, listening to his own breathing, forgetting everything.

Madame Kofuku’s voice broke the silence after a few minutes. “I will try to break into your mind, and you must disarm me or defend yourself.”

Yato opened his eyes and regarded her nervously. She was a short woman, but more powerful than she appeared.

She waited for Yato’s consent, wand aimed.

Yato nodded.

“Legilimens!”

The spell had struck before Yato could react or resist. The office swam out of his vision and vanished. Images raced through his mind like an old film that was running out of control, vividly flashing faces and scenes and memories across his mind until he felt like he was spinning.

Yato was four. He felt his arms looped around a dark-haired man’s neck that he would learn to call Father, and to a dark-haired girl that he would call sister…

Yukine on deaths door in the Chamber of Secrets and the Basilisk growing nearer…

Dementors swirling over a fading Patronus charm that allowed them to snatch his soul…

The Yule Ball, Hiyori’s soft, warm hand in his as he placed a gentle kiss on it and twirling her around the dancefloor, never knowing happiness like he felt in that moment…

‘No’, a voice whispered inside Yato head, overshadowing Hiyori’s laughter as Yato lifted her in the Champions dance, ‘you're not watching that, you're not watching it…’

Yato felt a sharp pain and Madame Kofuku’s office snapped back into view. He was on one knee, the other having a stabbing pain as he realised that he had fallen to the ground and bashed his knee on her desk. Yato looked up and found Madame Kofuku rubbing her wrist, a painful red welt growing on her pale skin.

His mouth went dry. “Did I…?”

“It’s just a stinging hex,” Madame Kofuku hushed. She dropped her arm to her side. “Did you feel yourself cast that spell?”

“N-No,” Yato answered. He felt nothing at all, only the memories.

Madame Kofuku watched Yato’s face closely as he stood up. “You need to stop me as soon as I enter your mind, else you’ll lose control.”

Yato nodded, but a terrifying thought crossed his mind, and he dreaded the answer.

“Did you see everything I saw?' Yato asked.

“Only flashes,” she replied. “You don’t need to worry; I won’t tell.”

Yato felt his cheeks grow red, embarrassed and ashamed for her to have seen such dark moments of his past, but he hoped it didn’t show too much.

“Remain focused and use your mind to block out me,” Madame Kofuku said. She raised her wand again, hiding her injured arm behind her back this time, and cast the spell.

“Legilimens!”

Again, the spell was too fast, and Yato was captured in a web of memories.

Yato was twelve, curled up in a ball in a dingy hotel he called home where the winter air leaked through cracked glass and the trains constantly rattled his bed as he hid from the Father who tortured him…

Sakura, emaciated and sullen in the Shrieking Shack after escaping Azkaban, and the pain in her eyes when she realised that her own brother didn’t recognise her…

Nora, underwater in the Great Lake waiting to be saved, but abandoned by Yato in favour of his friends.

Suzuha’s green eyes staring back at him, the life drained, and his tunic splattered with blood under a broken headstone…

Yato screamed, and the world fell away once again. He found himself on his knees on the cold stone floor, head in his hands as his head throbbed at the last memory.

Slowly, Madame Kofuku crouched on the ground beside Yato, stroking his back with sad eyes. She had seen these memories much clearer than the others.

“It’s ok,” she shushed. “It will get easier, but you need to try harder if you want to repel the Sorcerer.”

Yato took a few shaky breaths before he removed his face from his hands, palms slightly wet. He felt anger swell in his chest, to have his mind laid bare, his private memories used against him.

“Isn’t it more useful if I can see what the Sorcerer is doing?”

The question shocked Madame Kofuku, but Yato felt his reasoning was sound. All he had heard was repel, repel, repel, but what if Yato wanted to let the Sorcerer in? What if he could see more if the Sorcerer were in his head with him?

“The last thing you want is him in your head, Yato!” Madame Kofuku exclaimed. “Even to allow such a thing, a Legilmens’ can distort your mind, make you see things that aren’t real, and drive you insane!”

She rose a second after Yato and faced him head-on, giving him a warning look that Sakura had given him many times before.

Yato huffed and stared straight back at her. “If I hadn’t seen Daikoku -,”

“If you hadn’t seen Daikoku, it would have been too late to save him. For that I thank you. But to let the Sorcerer in, he will control your mind and change you,” Madame Kofuku bit back the venom in her words, but it was enough to shock Yato back to reality.

He hadn’t thought of it that way. It was some constellation that he’d been able to save Daikoku, but for the Sorcerer to control his mind… it didn’t bear thinking about what he could make Yato do.

Guilt set in as he realised that he let his temper get the best of him, and that he used Daikoku against Madame Kofuku who was only trying to help him.

Yato looked away.

Madame Kofuku watched Yato for a few moments, calming herself. When she spoke again, her words were weighed with consideration.

“The Sorcerer must have been unaware of your… connection, until recently. Subconsciously linked perhaps, but only recently did he feel your emotions too. Those that he is not accustomed to.”

Yato blinked.

Happiness? Love? Those were the emotions Yato felt over Christmas. He had seen Daikoku through a snake’s eyes – the Sorcerer’s eyes – which confirmed Sakura’s theory he was an Animagus, and Madame Kofuku’s that he had access to Yato’s mind now.

“He must realise it works in reverse, like stepping through a door in and out of someone's mind,” Madame Kofuku continued.

Yato shuddered. “Are you sure he could… control me?”

“He might, which is why you need to learn Occlumency,” Madame Kofuku affirmed gently.

After a second Yato nodded. He stepped back and raised his wand without a word. He wouldn’t let the Sorcerer get him.

Madame Kofuku raised her wand at Yato with a sad smile.

“Legilimens!”

Yato threw himself on his bed after his late training session with Madame Kofuku. He groaned, thankful that no one was in the dormitory to hear him. He hated his life.

Yato rolled onto his back and sighed at the canopy that draped over his bed. He turned his head to the side to look at his drawer and reached an arm up to open the top compartment. Yato fumbled around, feeling old sticky sweets and other miscellaneous junk within the drawer, then frowned.

Yato rolled himself over onto his front and peered into the drawer.

His mirror was gone.

Yato frowned harder and check the other drawers, rifling through old socks and last year's homework. He looked under the bed and behind the drawers, he crawled over to his chest and pulled out his clothes. He even hung over the edge of the bed and opened his empty suitcase.

Where the hell is the mirror? Yato tutted at himself. He was sure he brought it back.

Yato sat up and looked around, cross-legged on his bed. He let out another frustrated sigh. Now he couldn’t talk to Sakura. He hoped she would send Coo Phone – who now resided at Grimmauld Place as his job had been stolen by a mirror – with a message once she realised the mirror was at home.

Yato dragged a hand over his eyes. It had already been a long day; he would look for the mirror again tomorrow.

For the time being, he would have to wait to talk to Sakura.

On Friday morning, Yato huffed and shrugged on his robes and gave a scathing look over his side of the room. Sakura must have noticed the mirror was at home by now, because it definitely wasn’t at Hogwarts.

Yato found Hiyori and Yukine after breakfast, heading down to their first class of the day: Potions.

Yato avoiding looking at Madame Kofuku’s arm as she taught them how to make a hair-raising potion, despite it being covered by a long jumper that kept the winter cold at bay in the dungeons.

In the library at break time, Yato quietly told Hiyori and Yukine how his Occlumency lesson went the night before, looking ashamed as he revealed that he had injured Madame Kofuku in the process. He didn’t dive too far into the details of the memories he saw, but he was greeted with encouragement.

Yukine did point out that Occlumency may be a good topic to study in the Hogwarts’ Order, once he got the hang of it.

Yato agreed, but he felt that wouldn’t be happening any time soon.

Friday’s final class for Yukine and Hiyori was Herbology, meaning they had to leave Yato for his dreaded Ancient Seals class.

Although the sun was more persistent in warming up the greenhouse, it still wasn’t enough to keep the students cold as they worked. Today they were working with Mimbulus Mimbletonia, a cactus-like plant that was covered in boils instead of spines.

Hiyori eyed it uncertainly, unnerved by the gentle pulsating that reminded her of a heartbeat. Yukine discreetly aimed his wand at it and sent a jolt of magic through the plant, causing it to spurt a thick, stinky liquid out from its boils.

Hiyori shrieked and cursed Yukine, hitting him gently on the arm.

Yukine smiled to himself as Hiyori tentatively handled the plant. He watched her stiff fingers as they tried to manipulate the roots into a new pot, the cold seeping through her gloves and making it impossible.

“Y’know,” Yukine leaned in and whispered to Hiyori, “You could take some gardening gloves with you after class.”

Hiyori shot him a look. “No, Yukine.”

Yukine wiggled his fingers at her. He was intent on pestering her until she got some decent gloves, even if it meant teasing her. “But they’re sooo warm.”

“I’m not doing it!” Hiyori insisted.

Unbeknownst to Hiyori that, by the end of the class, Yukine had decided to get her a pair when no one was looking.

The Great Hall was bustling with activity, candles illuminating the room as the dark, snowy night set beyond the tall glass windows. Dinner was served, but Yukine didn’t savour it. He ate as quickly as he could, knowing that everyone – teachers included – would be here for some time at least.

Yukine slipped out of the Great Hall and headed towards the bathroom but diverted out into one of the courtyards once the coast was clear. He was careful jogging down the steep stoned path that led to the greenhouses, frost beginning to settle over them.

The greenhouses were never locked, something he had discovered from Suzuha at the Yule Ball. Yukine winced at the memory of that night and let out a breath that misted in the air before him.

The glass door opened with a frosted squeak. Yukine didn’t bother closing it; he’d only be a minute. He picked his way over plant pots and sharp tools, making his way to the back of the greenhouse where they picked up gloves and aprons for class. He picked up a heavy pair of gloves, weighing them in his hand, and smiled. Hiyori would be so mad.

Something clattered behind him.

Yukine spun around, expecting to be busted by a teacher, but an unexpected and unwanted face greeted him.

Nora.

Yukine looked at her, eyes wide. She looked like a ghost, and he couldn’t be sure that she wasn’t one. Her skin was sickly pale, practically reflecting the moonlight with its translucency. Her dark hair was kept in its usual straight cut bob, making her look like a porcelain doll as she rigidly stepped towards Yukine. He could see her shaking under her ill-fitting clothes, the jacket not thick enough to keep her warm.

Yukine placed his hand on the desk behind him, not sure what to do. He clutched the gloves tightly in the other. How was she at Hogwarts?

“I-I c-can’t r-reach Y-Yato…” Nora’s breath clouded in front of her face. Her whispered voice on the edge of breaking, raspy and sore, as if she hadn’t spoken for weeks.

Yukine was silent for a moment, watching Nora cautiously.

“Nora… are you ok?” Yukine asked tentatively. He disliked the girl, but he didn’t want to see her like this, no matter what he had said in the past.

Nora continued to approach, her eyes locked on Yukine.

“I-I c-can’t -…”

Nora was in front of him now, a breath away, and her voice faded.

Yukine looked at her in confusion. He lifted his hand from the desk and reached out slowly. She couldn’t actually be here.

His heart beat faster when he felt the tinge of warmth emanating from her skin. She couldn’t be here.

Nora’s eyes were as black as the night above them, level with his own.

“I-I n-need…”

Nora reached her hand to Yukine’s face, and he froze as her face drew near. Her lips briefly met his, cold as snow and as lifeless as the boy who had kissed him here first.

“You.”

#noragami #noragami aragoto #yato #hiyori #yukine #nora #sakura #kofuku #hp au #harry potter au #in the darkness #my writing

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