#this turned into a long post. BUT I NEEDED IT. RHYTHM TOWER WAS HELL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

make-me-imagine · 4 years ago

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Red Roses: “I Love You” - Tony Stark Ending

Valentines Special: Day Nine

Day One: Morning Glories // Day Two: Blue Salvias Day Three: Sunflowers // Day Four: Pink Camellias Day Five: Yellow Tulips // Day Six: Violets Day Seven: Lisianthus // Day Eight: Daffodils (Post with rest of the character endings)

Plot: It’s finally Valentines Day, the day the reader will finally learn who it is that had been leaving them flowers and notes expressing their secret feelings.

Pairing: Gen!Neutral Reader x Tony Stark

Triggers: None Words: 2,116

Requested Taglist: @aquariuslavenderhoney, @thebookbakery, @fablesrose, @kitkatd7, @thefallenbibliophilequote, @beksib, @destynelseclipsa, @criminaly-supernatural, @tammythompson-singslikea-muppet, @belloangelus, @snarky--starky @saintbootlegloras, @wecallhimbrowneyess, @empath-bunny, @okkulta, @katinthemoon, @ravennight41, @youcancallme-rae , @radhumandragonclam, @unfortunateidiotinadilemma, @past3l-w1ngs , @goinggoinggonzo, @mxxnmocha, @theofficialzivadavid, @groovyfluxie

February 14th

You tapped your fingers in a repeated rhythm as you read through one of your recent work files, your eyes darting to the time every few minutes, as if it would suddenly jump forward hours at a time.

As you read over the page again, not changing or adding anything you sighed in annoyance at your own antsy demeanor. You had already finished all of your work for the day and it wasn’t event noon yet.

Maybe you’d go for a walk around the tower? See what everyone else was up too. Slipping on some shoes, you made your way out of your room and down to the gym, you’d figure someone would be there, and maybe you’d work out a bit to shake off some of these nerves.

As you walked into the gym you were surprised to see almost everyone there, some of their heads moving to meet you as you entered “Woah, you guy’s having a meeting you weren’t gonna tell me about?”

Steve chuckled “No, we’re just trying to get out of the way, there are tons of caterers and decorators upstairs.”

“It’s like a circus.” Bucky commented.

“Well, since no one else wants to spar with me, how about you?” Natasha asked from across the room.

“Sure. I need the distraction.”

“Why’s that?” she asked, though you had a feeling she knew why.

You said as much “I have a feeling you know.” you said, squinting at her in a questioning manner. She simply smirked in response.

After changing, you and Natasha started sparring, the others watched and gave tips, though most of which were unasked for. After a while, Steve and Buck decided they wanted a go and you and Natasha sat down for a breather.

Natasha eyed you for a moment before talking lowly, so only you would hear “It’s gonna be alright you know.”

You looked over at her and rose your brow “What will?”

“Tonight.” She said simply.

You stayed quiet for a moment, glancing at the others around the room “What do you mean? Do you know something?”

She chuckled “Well, it’s not too hard to figure out that all of these gifts and notes are leading up to one day, today, Valentines Day.”

You let out a long breath “Yeah. Well you’re right. But I still have no idea who it is. Do you?"

She smirked “I have my ideas, just as I think you do.”

“Not ideas, just...hopes.” you commented.

She nodded her head “Yeah, I know” she was one of the few people who knew you had feelings for one of the others. The one, who out of all the others you wished was the one sending the notes. Tony. But the notes, and the flowers, didn’t really seem his style. He was more blunt. And you had waited long enough to start losing hope that he never felt the same.

“But like I said, it’ll be alright. Just breath and get through it. Like everything else.”

You nodded “Yeah, I’ll try.”

- - -

Standing in front of the mirror, you wondered if your outfit suited the party, maybe it was a bit too casual. “Whatever” you muttered before going into the bathroom to finish getting ready. Whoever it was has probably seen the worst of you already so they wont mind whatever outfit you wear tonight, there is no real need to impress them. Right? Maybe you should look in your closest again. ‘No it’s fine’ you thought to yourself aggressively as you chastised your behavior.

You had managed to distract yourself with the others until you needed to get ready for the party, and with helpful advice and kind words from Natasha, you weren’t feeling as nervous as you had been earlier. You accepted that whoever was going to confess themselves to you tonight was out of your hands.

After checking over yourself in the mirror one more time, you got a text from Natasha telling you that people had begun to arrive. Checking the clock, you see that it’s 8pm on the dot. Well, Tony did always like punctuality, well, from other’s at least.

Leaving your room you made your way to the elevator and up to the main party floor. When you exited, you were sightly alarmed at just how many people had shown up already. There were loud voices and laughter as people recognized others and they all greeted one another.

You took a breath as you made your way into the main room, wondering where it was you were seated for the dinner part of the night.

“How you feeling?” a voice said from behind you, startling you slightly.

Turning you see Natasha, you smiled at her “I’m okay, I think.”

“Well, ‘okay, you think’’ is better than ‘definitely not okay’” she looped her arm through yours as you walked further into the room and found Clint and Wanda in the corner.

An hour or so later, you were standing in the corner of the room, watching the crowd of people. You recognized about half, and knew about a quarter. Seeing someone approaching you from the side, you turned your head and saw Tony waking over, plate in hand. He was wearing a nice suit, red to match the theme. Your heart began pounding a bit harder as he came and stood next to you.

“Having fun?”

“Of course” you said, failed honesty in your voice.

He smirked at your answer, knowing full well you didn’t like crowded parties like this, surrounded by a lot of rich people. He held the plate out towards you “This is for you.”

Looking at the plate, you see some strawberries, orange slices, bananas and marshmallows all dipped in chocolate. Taking the plate you hesitated “Uuhh, thanks?”

“Don’t worry, I got that before everyone started using the fountain. No cooties.” he smirked, earning a smile from you.

You felt a bit of gratitude at this, it was nice, and a bit unusual for him to do something like that for you. Taking a bite from one of the strawberries, you were surprised at how good it was.

Tony took a chocolate covered banana from the plate, popping it into his mouth “Good right? Got the chocolate imported from Switzerland.”

You chuckled “Of course you did.”

He smirked “Of course.” he repeated.

You saw him look over across the room with a frown. Following his gaze you see happy waving for Tony’s attention before motioning for him to come over “Looks like something important.”

“With Happy it could be that there is too long of a line at the bathroom.” as he took a step away he turned back to you and pointed at you “Enjoy the fruit, and don’t party too hard, without me at least.”

You chuckled as he walked away. You felt a pang of disappointment as he left. That would have been the perfect time for him to tell you that it was him. You tried to push that feeling away, thinking about the fact that there was no point in wanting to be with someone who didn’t want to be with you.

Seeing some familiar SHIELD Agents across the room, you made your way over to mingle. You wanted to distract yourself.

- - -

It was getting close to midnight now as you sat at your table with Clint, Sam, Nat Bruce, Steve and Bucky. No one had made any confession to you and you were honestly beginning to think that they changed their mind. Part of you thought maybe that was for the better. But you were also a bit disappointed at the thought as well.

“I’m gonna go get some water” you said as you stood and began walking across the room.

You stopped when you saw Tony rounding the corner a bit fast and seeming a bit exasperated. Spotting you he walked over to you “Do me a favor?”

“Uh, yeah, what’s wrong?”

“Go on the roof and see of the fireworks are ready, I was gonna get Happy to do it but I can’t find him.”

“You got fireworks? Seriously?” you scoffed, amused.

“Of course I did” he smiled “Now, can you? I need to get everyone on the balconies to watch.”

“Oh, uh yeah sure I’ll do it.” he handed you his pass-card to his loft before you left and made your way to the elevators, thinking a bit about it you really weren’t that surprised that he got fireworks.

As the elevator opened, you made your way into and through Tony’s loft and out onto the main roof. Looking around, you didn’t see anybody, so you walked out further, feeling a chill from the night air. Seeing some light coming from around a nearby wall, you walked over “Hello?” you called out as you rounded the corner.

You stopped in your tracks when you saw, laid out all over the rood top, various bouquets of bright red roses. Your mouth fell open in surprise as you walked a bit closer. Looking around you saw no one and definitely no fireworks.

You stood their dumbfounded for a few moments, looking at the probably hundred roses. “Do you like them?” Spinning around at the sound of the voice, you saw Tony walking up to you, hands in his pockets as he watched you closely. “I thought it might be a bit much, but, then I thought, what the hell. You don’t confess your love to someone every day.”

As he approached you, you stared at him, shock still running threw you, before you finally smiled and let out a surprised laugh, sharing your head “Just when I gave up the hope that it was you, you surprise me with this.”

A smile broke out on his face as he took another step closer “Then you did want it to be me?”

You felt a bit more bashful as he seemed to stare right through you “Yes. I did.”

“Well, that’s definitely a relief. I kept thinking that maybe, you had feelings for me, but, I tend to be a bad judge of character. But, you proved me right.”

“I have to admit, it was hard to keep hoping it was you though, the poetic notes and the flowers, it just...didn’t seem like you.”

“Well that was the point” he smiled “I’ve been planning a way to tell you how I felt, and well, I overheard you and Wanda talking about some stupid romantic movie and I thought I might get creative.”

“It was definitely creative. And, let me guess. Bruce knew about it, and Vision actually did help you deliver those flowers that day when I asked?”

He winked “Bingo. But, I am still offended by that comment you made.” You laughed, making his smile grow bigger. Taking another step closer to you, he stared into your eyes “You.” he paused, almost unsure of what to say “You surprise me every day you know? And I just, wanted to...surprise you, I guess.” You smiled gently at him “And then, that day in the lab, I- I though I almost got you killed.”

You shook your head “I don’t blame you Tony. I know you’d never let that happen if you could stop it”

He gave you a small smile before he reached out, stroking the side of your face gently “I do love you, I mean, if that wasn’t obvious by now” he joked, before his face become more serious ”I’ve only dreamed of having someone like you beside me. It seems too good to be true that you’d want to be there.”

“It’s not to good to be true Tony. Because I love you too.”

“Well.” he began as he leaned in closer to you, his eyes darting to your lips briefly “If I know you, I know you’d never break a promise.” He spoke almost in a whisper as his lips met yours in a deep kiss.

Just as you were loosing yourself in the kiss, there was a bright and loud bang besides you making you jump and pull away from the kiss. Your eyes shot to where the light was. You saw bright sparkles falling from the sky as more fireworks shot up into the air from a building across the street.

You looked at Tony who was smirking and you let out a laugh “At least you didn’t lie about the fireworks.”

His smirk turned into a grin as he wrapped his arm around your waste and pulled you into another kiss. You could hear the cheers and clapping of the people below on the balconies watching the fireworks, giving an oddly symbolic and movie-esque ending to the passionate kiss.

xx xx xx xx

Hope you like it! This is one of my favorite endings that I wrote~

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saturrn-writes · 4 years ago

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A Beautiful Stranger

A/N: This takes place just before Ziva’s arrival at NCIS in season 3. There’s a little plot if you squint, but it’s mostly smut.

This is also posted on AO3; please do not claim my work as your own.

Summary: Tony is out at a club in DC and meets a mysterious (and attractive) stranger; after an exciting night together, Tony is shocked to discover that she is the Mossad agent now attached to their team, Officer Ziva David.

Rating: explicit for sex, language, drinking

TW// language, sexual content, alcohol, mentions of violence

Word count: 4021

Tony sipped his drink, attention glued on the heavily intoxicated and scantily clad bachelorette party that was gyrating together on the dance floor a few feet from the bar. One of the bridesmaids, a tiny blonde who looked like she could still be in college, caught his eye and he winked at her. She giggled, mimicking a lasso toss in his direction. He got up, leaving his glass on the bar and approached her with a grin.

“Hey cutie,” he said as she grabbed his arm to pull him onto the dance floor.

“Hi handsome,” she slurred, swaying on her towering heels. “You wanna dance?” Without waiting for an answer, she spun around, grinding her ass against his crotch. He grabbed her waist, less out of a desire to participate and more to keep her from falling over. He moved with her, enjoying the feeling of her against him.

“Amber!” One of the other bridesmaids shrieked at the one he was dancing with, reaching her hand out to the small woman. “We have to go! The stripper is supposed to meet us at the hotel in twenty minutes!” As she pulled Amber away from him, he gave a little finger wave.

“Have fun!” he called halfheartedly, once again mildly bored. He was hoping to find someone to go home with, but so far blackout coeds had been all he was able to find. He made his way to the bar again, ordering another beer and perching on a stool, once again scanning the crowd.

“You, uh, come here often?” A voice from beside him drew his attention immediately and he swiveled to face its source. A small, tan woman was seated beside him, one leg crossed over the other and a drink in her hand. He couldn’t quite place her accent, but it was certainly attractive, and as he looked her up and down, he knew he wanted to go home with her. Her dress was short, tight, and black, hugging her curves and riding up slightly as she recrossed her legs. Her heels were smaller than Amber’s, but they easily added three inches to her modest height. Her dark hair was wavy and loose, and Tony resisted the urge to run his hands through it.

“Occasionally,” he replied, trying to come up with a clever line. “But you haven’t; I would’ve remembered.” It wasn’t a particularly good line, but it was all he could come up with. Watching her lips kiss the rim of her glass as she drank was doing a number on him.

“No, I only just arrived in town.” She didn’t elaborate, and this frustrated him.

“I’m Tony,” he introduced, leaning closer to offer his hand. She shook it firmly, the strength of her grip surprising him.

“Ziva.” She held his hand a little longer than she needed to, her thumb running along his knuckle before pulling back. He felt a little shock at her touch, wanted to feel it again but he didn’t want to seem pushy. She finished her drink, setting the empty glass on the bar. “Do you want to dance, Tony?”

“Um, sure.” He finished his drink. “I don’t really dance, but hell, I’d do it for you.” He kicked himself as he slid off of his stool. That was such a stupid thing to say, but she seemed to find it funny. She grabbed his arm and led him to the crowded dance floor. Unlike Amber, she was confident in her steps and he watched as her hips sashayed in front of him. Her legs were long and muscular, and he wondered what they would feel like wrapped around him. They slipped into the crowd of people, moving closer together as the song changed, the jostling around them forcing them chest to chest. As they fell into rhythm together, Tony leaned down so she could hear over the music. “Where are you from?”

“Israel,” she replied, turning so her back was against him, moving her hips against him. The friction from her ass sent a rush of blood from his head and he knew he there was no way he was leaving alone tonight. Her hand reached up to grab his head, tilting her neck up so she could reach his ear. “How long have you been a cop?”

“A long time. How did you know?” She intrigued him more than anything, her exotic beauty and observant eyes were definitely going to get him into trouble.

“Call it a lucky guess,” she replied, nipping playfully at his earlobe before letting go of him. He bit his lip at her action, his hands tightening on her waist. The bottom of her already short dress rode up a little higher, exposing a little bit of a tattoo on the inside of her right thigh.

“Nice tattoo,” he commented, the subtext being a desire to see her naked. She picked up on this immediately, purposefully pulling her dress up for a second so he could see the whole thing. It was a small knife, the tip of the blade pointing to her knee. He let go of her waist with one hand, tracing over the tattoo with two fingers. She shuddered slightly at his touch, grinding harder against him in response.

“Do you have any?” she asked, her voice a breathy whisper in his ear.

“Why don’t you find out?” he suggested, hoping she would say yes. As a rule he never brought anyone home to his apartment, and he sincerely hoped she lived close by. She turned to face him, her lips ghosting over his.

“Do you want to get out of here?”

“I have a feeling you know the answer to that question, Detective Ziva.” He leaned in to kiss her, still holding her hips to keep her close. She responded quickly, kissing back with the same intensity he felt.

“My hotel is across the street,” she said as she broke the kiss. As she led him toward the street, she looked over her shoulder at him with a suggestive smirk. “I hope you brought your handcuffs.”

The air outside was cool, but not uncomfortably so. As they waited on the corner for the light to change Ziva snuggled closer to him, goosebumps dotting her arms as a breeze danced over them. He wrapped an arm around her, tracing his fingers down her arm as the light changed. They crossed the street and ducked out of the night into the lobby of her hotel. She slipped her key card out of her small purse as the elevator doors slid shut behind them, hitting the button for the fourth floor before turning her attention back on Tony. “Were you serious about the handcuffs?” he asked.

She laughed. “Why, did I scare you?”

“Hardly,” he said derisively as they arrived on her floor. “But no, I don’t currently have my cuffs on me.”

“Tragic.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him down the hall, laughing as he almost walked into her when she stopped at room 417. “Mine got shipped to my apartment so I do not have them.”

As soon as the door locked behind them Tony was on her again, pushing her against the door as she wrapped her arms around him and sought his lips. She tasted like whiskey and lemon as he slipped his tongue into her mouth. To his surprise, she pressed her tongue against his, fighting for dominance before pulling back to drag his bottom lip between her teeth. She shifted her hold on him slightly and spun them around, grinning as his back hit the door and her hands started to work the buttons on his shirt. She grew impatient after the third button and he helped her pull it over his head. She ran a hand over his torso appreciatively before kissing her way up his neck, biting just below his ear.

“Careful,” he said, trying to hold back a moan. “I have work tomorrow and I can’t have any hickeys.” She rolled her eyes.

“I know, I do too. I am starting a new job and I need to make a good first impression.” She shrugged. “That does not mean no biting though,” she said with a wink, nipping at his earlobe again. He couldn’t hold back his moan this time, steadily growing more desperate as she bit harder on his neck. He pushed away from the door, hitting the lights as he kissed her hungrily. They stumbled toward the bed, stopping only for him to kick his shoes off. She turned them again, pushing Tony down onto the bed and climbing on top of him. Her dress was bunched around her waist as she settled down, moving against him as their kiss intensified. His hands were everywhere, trying to memorize her body with his touch as she pushed him down onto his back and stood up.

He leaned on his elbows as he watched her slowly unzip her dress and drop it to the floor. It fell in a black puddle at her feet and she stepped out of it, still wearing her heels, as she slowly crawled over Tony. The only thing she was still wearing was a lacy black thong as she got to work undoing his belt. She sat up farther to unzip his pants and he took a moment to admire her. She was truly beautiful, a soft hourglass of muscle and smooth, tan skin. Her loose hair was wild and there was a mischievous glint in her dark eyes as she got up again to pull his pants completely off before climbing back on top of him. As she captured his mouth in a filthy kiss, he couldn’t even compare her to one of the leading ladies in any movie he had ever seen; he was too distracted by the way she smelled, the way she tasted, the way she felt on top of him. Normally, he was the dominant one in these situations, but she was different. She was powerful, strong, and completely comfortable in herself and what she wanted, and that made her all the more desirable to him. He finally hooked his thumbs in the waistband of her panties and dragged them down, stopping to flip her on her back so he could take them the rest of the way off as she kicked off her heels.

Her laugh turned into a moan as he started to kiss his way up the inside of her leg, over her tattoo, towards her center, ghosting over her clit with his tongue and watching in awe as she arched off the bed, her strong legs urging him down again. He obliged her happily, tracing her opening with his tongue as she buried her hands in his hair. She cried out in Hebrew as he finally rubbed his tongue over her clit again, and he wrapped his arms around her legs as he got comfortable, continuing to lick her forcefully, encouraged by her moans. She tasted heavenly, and despite his desire to be inside of her he was enjoying himself. She was unashamed to be vocal about how she felt, guided him gently but confidently to where she wanted him to touch her, and after several minutes she was starting to shake.

“Good girl,” he praised, humming appreciatively against her pussy as he continued to devour her. This sent her tumbling over the edge, almost choking him with her thighs as she came, her hands gripping his hair ferociously as she bucked her hips against his face. He eased up, continuing to slowly touch her as she came down from her high and she leaned up on her forearms to smile at him.

“Not bad, Tony,” she panted, running a hand through her hair as she caught her breath. “Come here.” She pulled him to her and kissed him harshly, swiping her tongue across his mouth, tasting herself on his lips. He thought he might die from how much that turned him on, even more than he already was.

“We can stop if you want,” he said as she grappled him, flipping him onto the bed so she was once again on top of him.

“Do you want to stop?” She looked at him with the barest hint of concern. “I do not want you to be uncomfortable, and I know it is also getting very late.”

He glanced at the clock. It was well after midnight. “I think it’s technically early, actually.” He looked back at her. “I don’t want to stop. I’m tempted to call out of work tomorrow so we can do more of this.”

She laughed. “Tony, I cannot call out on my first day.” She kissed him again. “But maybe I could see you again?”

“I’d like that.” He kissed her neck, licking down to her collarbone before biting down, listening to her breath hitch. She caught his hands and pinned them over his head, kissing down his neck. She let go of his hands as she slid down his body farther, finally grabbing his boxers in her slender hands and pulling them towards his ankles. He helped her get them off as she turned her attention to his painfully hard cock. She met his eyes as she wrapped her hand around him, and he hissed at the sudden contact. He tried to keep still as she stroked him leisurely before taking him in her mouth. Reflexively, he tangled his hands in her hair as he moaned at the feeling of her tongue on him. He reveled in the feeling of her mouth on him, but it wasn’t enough. “Ride me, Ziva.” It came out more as a command than a request and he felt her stiffen between his legs. He was worried that he had pushed too far, but the look she gave him told him it was the opposite.

“You are the boss now, are you?” she asked, biting her lip as she straddled him, using one hand to line him up with her entrance as he grabbed onto her waist. Slowly she lowered herself onto him, her eyes rolling back a little as he stretched her. She was impossibly tight, but she was still slick with arousal and her earlier orgasm, so he had no trouble sliding all the way into her. He reached up to cup her breasts, tracing his thumbs over her nipples as she started to move, setting a steady pace.

“God, you feel amazing,” he groaned quietly, leaning forward to suck one of her nipples and then the other, all the dirty sounds she made adding to the incredible amount of pleasure he felt. Feeling emboldened by her vocal enjoyment he grabbed her hair again, pulling her head back so he could bite across her neck as he bucked his hips to match her pace. He heard her breath catch at his forcefulness and he took that opportunity to bite her lower lip before kissing her again. Her hands were buried in his hair, her grip tight as she continued. He felt himself getting close, and she seemed to pick up on this as well because she smirked at him before pushing him back into the pillows so he could watch her body move. She moved her hand between her legs to rub her clit as she picked up her pace, her eyes squeezed shut as her legs started to shake again. “Fuck, Ziva!” he cried finally as he reached his climax. She was right behind him, clenching tight around him as she collapsed forward, breathing heavily. He rubbed her back as she rested against him, loosening her grip on his hair as she came down from her high.

After a few minutes she rolled off of him, stretched out on her back beside him, one hand on her stomach and the other tucked under her head. “I am extremely jetlagged but that was very worthy of my time,” she said finally. “Thank you.” He sighed, reaching a hand out to rub circles on her side.

“I should be thanking you,” he said nonchalantly. “That was incredible.” Truthfully, it was the best sex he had ever had, but he had a sneaking suspicion that saying so out loud would go to her head. He smiled at the thought, at the idea of maybe seeing her again. “I should probably go. I have to be up for work in a few hours and I need my beauty sleep.” She watched as he started collecting his clothes, finally stretching and getting up to turn on the shower as he rebuttoned his shirt.

“I would ask if you wanted to stay but I think I would sleep better alone before I start work,” she said as she poked her head out of the bathroom. “Another time, perhaps.”

“Um, yeah.” He crossed to the desk and scribbled his phone number onto the notepad. “I left my number on the desk. Call me sometime, okay?”

“Of course. It was nice to meet you, Tony.” She gave him one last kiss, the kind that made him want to get undressed and take her back to bed but he knew he needed to go home so he could sleep.

“I’ll see you around, Ziva,” he said, opening the door. “Good luck with the new job.”

“Thank you, I appreciate that. Get home safely,” she replied with another half-smirk, and shut the door behind him.

By the time he got home it was a little after four and he knew that the upcoming workday was going to kick his ass. Still, as he got into bed in his apartment, he thought about the graceful lines of her body and the way she squeezed her eyes shut when she came, and the feel of her skin in his hands. As he fell asleep, her shadow danced through his head like the women in a James Bond opening credit scene.

***The Next Day***

Tony, McGee, and Gibbs stood in the squad room, watching the monitor as McGee played the security footage from the marina where they had found the dead petty officer.

“Can you zoom in, McGee?” Gibbs asked, pointing at a dark sedan that pulled into the parking lot minutes before the murder.

“On it, boss.” McGee clicked some keys, zooming in on the car. “No plates, but I might be able to isolate his face.” He tapped some more keys as Tony stared intently at the screen, trying to identify something useful.

“It looks like a Honda, but I’m not totally sure,” he mused out loud, rubbing his temples. He hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before thanks to that delicious Israeli woman and it was seriously affecting his concentration.

“Boss, this is as clean an image as we’re gonna get,” McGee said, throwing up a slightly blurry photo of a middle aged white man with a buzz cut and some serious facial hair. “I’ll start running facial recognition.”

“I know that man,” came a voice from behind them, a familiar accent that made Tony’s cock ache in recognition. He turned to see Ziva standing at the entrance to the bullpen, her curves covered by camouflage cargo pants and a loose black V neck shirt. “His name is Dominic Svoboda. He is a Czechian national. He has been affiliated with arms smuggling and mercenary activities since 1998.” She set down her backpack on Agent Todd’s empty desk. “Sorry, I just got out of my meeting with the Director,” she said to Gibbs, holding her hand out to him. “Ziva David, Mossad.”

Gibbs ignored her outstretched hand, glancing upward toward the second floor. Director Shepard was watching him carefully. He eyed her suspiciously and headed for the stairs.

“Don’t mind him,” McGee said. “I guess he wasn’t expecting you. None of us were.” He stood up from behind his desk. “I’m Tim McGee, and that’s-“

“Very Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo,” Tony interrupted him. She turned her sharp gaze on him, the corners of her mouth turned up in a smirk that only he could see.

“Tony,” she said casually. “We met downstairs, remember?”

“Ah, yes,” Tony sighed, relieved that she had covered for them both. “I didn’t realize you meant you were being assigned to our team.”

“Well, I am here now.” She turned to McGee. “What can I do?”

“What else do you know about Dominic Svoboda?” McGee asked, pulling his photo from Interpol and sending it to the television screen.

“He has been on Mossad’s radar for several years now after an attack on an Israeli school tied his guns to several terrorist cells. He has been in the United States for approximately six months. I will reach out to one of my contacts for more information about his associates here.” She reached for the desk phone but stopped when Tony coughed uncomfortably.

“Um, that’s Kate’s desk,” Tony said quickly. He looked up at the stairs when he heard a door slam. Gibbs gave Ziva one of his long stares as he rejoined them in the bullpen.

“Tony, McGee, this is Ziva David. She’s with Mossad, on temporary assignment here. Someone wanna catch me up?” He grabbed his coffee cup off of his desk, stared at McGee.

“Well, Officer David was just telling us about Dominic Svoboda here,” he started, but Gibbs cut him off.

“McGee, trace anything of his you can find. Tony, give Officer David the tour.”

“Right. This way, Officer David,” Tony said, as casually as possible, as they headed toward the elevator. “We’ll start in the basement. I’ll tell Abby about our Czechian arms dealer and see what she can dig up on his guns.” Ziva hurried behind him. The elevator began to move down, and Tony reached out to hit the stop button. The lights cut out and the car came to a bouncing halt. He turned to her, crossing his arms. “You didn’t tell me you were Mossad,” he hissed at her. She leaned against the wall of the elevator, mirroring his body language.

“You never asked,” she replied simply. “Besides, I am more than capable of being an adult about this. We cannot keep seeing each other, but we can work together in a civil manner.” She eyed him suspiciously. “Unless you are unable to contain yourself?”

“Excuse me, what?” he asked, taken aback.

“You heard me, Very Special Agent DiNozzo,” she challenged. “Are you incapable of remaining composed in the office?”

He wanted to argue with her, but he kept having flashbacks to the night before, her beautiful, naked body arched off her bed in sheer bliss, and he felt himself getting a little hot under the collar. “I’ll be fine but thank you for your concern. It’s endearing.”

She took a step forward, looking up at him through her eyelashes. “Are you sure about that? You look a little uncomfortable, Tony.”

He looked away from her face to calm himself down but found himself following the line of her shirt to her breasts, and further to the camo pants that were just a little snugger on her hips than they should be. The things he wanted to do to her in this elevator… He shook himself back to the present. “I don’t know, Officer David, you seem like you’re the one who’s distracted.”

She licked her lip absently as she reached for the elevator button and he couldn’t resist any longer. He grabbed her waist, slamming her against the wall and pressing his lips to hers. She tasted like coffee and mint, a combination even more intoxicating than the alcohol on her breath the night before. As he dug his fingers into her hips she arched up to him, a low growl in her throat as she dug her fingers into his shirt. After a minute, she pushed him away from her. “We cannot do this right now.” As she hit the elevator button again, she gave him a suggestive glance. “You know where I am staying until my apartment is ready. Seven o’clock, do not be late.” She winked at him. “Bring your handcuffs this time.”

#smut #ncis #ncis fanfiction #tony x ziva #ziva david #tony dinozzo

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artoodeeblue · 4 years ago

Text

A Lady on Paper

Find the French version along with my other original writing on this blog!

I can barely remember my birth. My first one, anyway. The cornerstone. It is shrouded in mist, cloggy like the swamp of my cradle-town. Someone must have fathered me – towers and spires rarely sprout up unannounced, I have gathered. In the echoes of my nave, I still hear the scratching of quill over parchment, the heavy bangs of the hammer, the heaving of my creators’ breaths.

The little details give me real life. I take my first breath when Gaultier chisels his initials on one of my rib vaults. His upturned tongue sticks out, almost touching the freckles on his nose. The light bounces through his walnut hair and lands on my freshly-carved stones.

“Hello,” I whisper, gently caressing his mind.

“Hi.” He smiles. Wipes the sweat from his forehead. His voice is tentative. He doesn’t quite know what he’s doing, but his tender name glows, etched into the millennia.

“Pleased to meet you, Gaultier.”

With a professional hand, he scratches another layer of mortar on his stone. In the growing mass that will become my visitors, the sound is both grounding and appeasing. Painfully, heavily, I rise.

“Me too, my Lady.”

Someone must have sired me, but my loyalty has always been to my children.

They give me jewellery and thorn crowns, which I accept like a mother concedes to her child’s present. I don’t need them, but if they reassure them – if they can feel less alone in this world – I can carpet my walls with a thousand tapestries.

Gaultier is long gone, but his laugh still echoes in the choir. It spins around, playfully blowing out candles and raising my children’s hair. His parting gift to the generations.

They give me eyes. I count three, round and gleaming. They flash with pastel, sketched with a delicate mix of stone and glass. With them I see my cradle-town. I see the steaming chimneys, the palace, the paved dampness of the city. I finally see my children, immersed in pink and blue light. Kneeling, muttering, singing. Confessing. They come in processions, light candles most cannot afford, speak a language I do not understand. I pray as well – that they find the answers they ask of me.

They add more intricate buttresses, for fear that I fall. I chuckle. Of course I will fall. I will burn down and crumble and fade until I am nothing more than a lady on paper. But Raymond will have none of this. He gives out orders, holding his parchment, counting steps and scratching on his board.

His touch is firm and steady. He pats me like his pet, running his fingers in the tiny creases between the stones.

(He misses Gaultier’s carvings, which I hide covetously.)

“You will become the most beautiful temple ever to stand upon this earth,” he tells me. His pompous language never fails to pry a laugh. “You will be thin as a sheet of parchment, yet your towers will stand strong until Judgment Day.”

“My sisters have not,” I try again. “Can you not hear their screams, as they fall to pieces and flames in the East? Only their ruins will see the sun rise on Judgment Day.”

“Not you,” Raymond insists. “You are better. You are good. You are holy.”

“Holier than the entire civilisation your people slaughtered in the name of God?”

His blue eyes glint with stars and hubris. He jerks his chin upwards. “Yes.”

My children are strong, and proud, and will burn themselves for a touch of the sun.

I wonder if this was how my sisters felt in the East.

They plunder my crypt, behead my kings and saints, but I never knew them anyway – they are all mere faces tattooed without my consent. Fake jewels. Kings never come to say hello; they just waltz in, kneel, smirk, and declare war over heretics.

Julien’s little kick is nonchalant, patronising.

The pavement is coated with a thick layer of blood. It swirls around me, inside me, churns my stomach and stares at me. They don’t do much to me – maybe, underneath the harsh gaze of the Raymond they so despised, they can hear Gaultier’s murmurs of hope. I never really understood hate, but I know it quickly dissolves under permanence.

“Not so powerful now, huh, girl?”

He wears a blue and red tricorn which awkwardly frames his childish face. He cannot be over twenty, yet his tongue sticks out as if he had finally brought a lion to its knees. Still, it has been decades since I have spoken. I nudge him back.

“Never,” I answer.

Julien smirks, and waves his little flag. “We control you now,” he gloats. “You’ll never hurt anyone else again. You’ll be forgotten, just like every other part of the Old Regime.”

“So will you.”

With a giant, heaving swing, the rod comes smashing towards St Thomas. His head explodes, and the fragments scatter through my bowels.

“I despise you,” he snarls. His breath is ragged, and his chiselled jaw twitches in its socket. “You’re everything that’s evil in this world.”

I am only rocks, I want to tell him. How can stone, oak, mortar and carved initials rival with the bloody smoke-trail of a musket?

But he is already gone, running on the pavement, carried by youth and homicidal optimism.

They change my name – it belongs sometimes to Reason, sometimes to the Supreme Being, sometimes to Liberty. My children are creative, and fickle. Anything to prove that they have changed.

But a few chopped off heads do not change the tell-tale glimmer in your eyes.

A man with almond eyes and a high forehead like mine pushes through my heavy door. His steps break my trance-like slumber, and I stir. Shy sunlight cracks through my unused eye. I blink. Slowly.

Gaultier’s laugh is no more than a whisper now. It has lost its music – has grown as lethargic as mine. Raymond’s promise flies over me like the angel of Death.

The man blows, sending a streak of fresh air over the piers. Dust materialises in the diffused rays. He stumbles around the half-ruins littered on the floor.

Electricity courses through his fingertips as he brushes my stone. I shudder. I haven’t been touched like this in centuries.

There’s an aura around him. Not divine – not like the few priests who still roam my sleepy aisles. Something rich and brown, scented with paper, ink and starlight. His eyes seek, blink, and dart in rhythm with the turn of the earth. His feet are posed firmly on the checkered tiles, yet his posture is light and dream-like. Grounded, physical, yet full of wonder. Not broken – not yet.

He smells so intensely, decidedly human.

I take a breath, and guide his hand towards the tiny alcove I made. It hides in the joint between walls, covered by dust and inconsequence. His breath gets caught in his throat, Adam’s apple bopping up and down. He religiously traces around the tired G, the sloppy H. It stings up to my spire, but tickling nerves feel much less lonely than numb inattention.

“Six hundred and fifty years,” he murmurs. “We must look like insects to you.”

I brush his skin, watching his eyes light up with Muses. Deep in the bowels of my bells, a slow rumbling comes to greet him.

“I think you look like giants, Victor.”

Out of everyone who said hello, he’s the only one who comes back broken.

“Look at you, all pampered,” he says. “You’re a proper lady on paper now. On your way to your old beauty.”

“It is your doing, my love. Your beautiful story set the spark.”

Victor smiles, a weary, tentative thing that contrasts with the navy bags under his eyes. His back is hunched, shoulders drawn tight under his jacket.

Sometimes, Victor reminds me so much of myself it sends sparks of pain down to my crypt.

“I am so very sorry, my dear.” I send him a tender sunray, but he recoils – flinches – away. He takes a shuddering inspiration.

The clangs and thrusts of the renovation scaffolding reverberate inside the nave. Victor’s knee fidgets back and forth, up and down, synchronised with my heartbeat. His breath comes in long, trembling sighs. He dips his head a little more, letting his brows cloud his gaunt expression with shadows too old for his age.

“She was…” Victor falters. “My Leopoldine, she was only nineteen.”

He whimpers, shoulders trembling. Never in his life could he withhold emotions from his features. My Victor has always felt everything so viscerally, so fiercely, that the force of a hundred hell fires could not possibly restrain him.

His hands are linked together and his eyelids close – a small, awkward attempt to connect to something far above my spire. I stay silent.

“You’re supposed to know everything.” His mouth moves, yet his voice comes from another realm. His brow twitches. “If you’re so omniscient, can’t you at least tell me… Tell me why?”

That is the one question I cannot answer, that I can never answer.

“Why can’t you bring her back?”

His broken sobs do not echo. Neither do Gaultier’s laugh, Raymond’s hopes, Julien’s fire. They are absorbed in the scaffolding above, in the heavy oak framework, in the centuries-old mortar.

Sometimes I wish I could speak to God. After all, am I not named after his mother?

Perhaps I am condemned to share her fate, forced to watch my children break and die, suspended to the cruel post of Time.

Demain, dès l’aube, à l’heure où blanchit la cathédrale… Je partirai.

It feels…strange, to say the least. I am smaller, lower. Reduced.

Smoke and ashes fly from my spire over my cradle-town, my beloved light-city. My children are cut from me, staring powerless behind murmuring firemen. They pray, they sing, mutter words of comfort that I barely catch over the screaming in my mind.

It aches. The intricate carpentry consumed, the flames licking up my roof, the crashing water relentlessly boring into my shoulders. The tireless wind ramming against my walls, whistling between my towers. It carries the bystanders’ collective gasp as they watch my spire crumble and impale my flank.

A young fire woman fixes her gaze on the brazier, a stoic jawline firmly maintaining her illusion of control. I can barely discern the tell-tale glimmer of her eyes through the smoke.

“You must be in so much pain.”

Maybe, but my pain is not unbearable. My children’s is.

“Don’t worry. We will protect you.” Her voice is wobbly, with a higher pitch than usual, yet her hand on the hose could not get any steadier.

When the sun rises over my still smouldering body, I hear relief, and I hear grief. The city, my radiant, proud, boastful people, hang in exhausted silence. It drapes over me.

My close call to destruction caused thousands of individuals to turn their heads towards an old remnant of the Regime.

“We will rebuild,” they say. From my undamaged eye, I spot their leader, surrounded by a shifting mass of microphones and cameras. “We will restore Our Lady to her former glory, and make her even more beautiful. We will make these stones alive again.”

Raymond’s voice resonates through millions of television sets. His eyes bore straight through the country.

I think of Gaultier’s sweat-filled affection, of his cheery compassion.

Of Julien’s anger at the vices of the world, of the passionate curve of his eyebrows.

I think of Victor the writer, of his beautiful smile and his magnificent tears, of his unconditional love for humanity.

I think of the three or four billionaires I have never met, who will claim to adore me by bedecking me with fake jewels, by cajoling me with impersonal wood and long-dead cold stone.

I think of my other sisters in the ocean, in the forests, in the air. Cathedrals that will never be rebuilt nor remembered, in the small scheme of political power. Monuments older than my cradle-town disappearing with the snap of two fingers, never to be seen again. Killed by hubris, disdain and general disinterest.

My stones do not make me alive. Just like you, they decay, wither, and burn.

No. I do not remember the placing of my cornerstone.

I took my first breath when a young, gap-toothed bricklayer chiselled his initials on the slabs of my rib vault.

#writing #Notre Dame de Paris #short story #my writing #reblog if you like? please? <3

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preservationandruin · 4 years ago

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Rhythm of War Liveblog, Part One Part Four (Chapters 12-15)

Onward! I feel like these posts are pretty long and don’t cover a lot, but then i remember that a lot of Part One every time is setting up what’s happening, and this one in particular we have an entire year’s worth of stuff to fill in, so I guess it’s warranted.

Kaladin hangs out with friends against his will, I remember that Adolin is a Horse Girl, Mraize talks about the interplanetary economy, Teleporting Fucker is a Legendarily Sore Loser, I have high hopes for spren necromancy, and Kaladin asks Zahel for advice.

We’re back to Kaladin, who is...not having a good time. He feels like he has to appear strong for Syl and the others, and not to let his problems affect them; he’s also hit hard by the feeling that Bridge Four is something that was in the past, not something that’s consistent and now.

“Hey,” Leyten said as they reached the tower entrance. “Rock! Got any stew for us maybe? For old times’ sake?” Kalaidn turned. The word “stew” pierced the cloud.

Rock can’t, he’s busy, and Kaladin goes to his rooms--which are sparse and empty, even though he has pretty good accommodations--and tries to self-isolate, which...mood. He starts going into what seems like a panic attack (paralyzed, curling into the fetal position, thoughts spiralling to what Moash was talking about) when the door is near-literally kicked down by Adolin and Syl.

(will i use this every time Adolin does things? probably)

Adolin manages to drag Kaladin out of his room, in what is--honestly--a pretty good way to do it for someone who is depressed--he makes the point that Kaladin doesn’t have to be happy, he doesn’t have to pretend to be happy, but he should be miserable around other people. And he does it in just...a very Adolin way:

“You spend too many evenings alone, bridgeboy,” Adolin said, glancing at the nearby exhaustionspren, then grabbing Kaladin by the arm--something few other people would have dared. “I like being by myself,” Kaladin said. “Great. Sounds awful. Today, you’re coming with me. No more excuses. I let you blow me away last week and the week before.”

I love that “blow me away” is Roshar-slang for “blow me off”

Kaladin tries to lash out and say maybe he just doesn’t like being around Adolin, Adolin dares him to say, with an oath, that he should be alone right now--and Kaladin can’t, because--of course--Kaladin shouldn’t be alone right now.

“Ha,” Adolin said, tugging him along by the arm. “Come on, Brightlord Master Highmarshal Stormface. Change your coat to one that doesn’t smell like smoke, then come with me. You don’t have to smile. You don’t have to talk. But if you’re going to be miserable, you might as well do it with friends.”

This is so good. I think on some level when you self-isolate, what people want (or at least, what I want) is to have someone willing and able to drag you out of it despite the fact that you don’t want to be around people--and I’m so glad that Adolin is that person.

Kaladin demands to know why Syl got Adolin of all people, despite that scene literally showing why Adolin was the perfect person to bring, and Syl responds that she needed someone Kaladin couldn’t intimidate...and, in the end, Kaladin ends up thanking her.

And then we go to Adolin’s favorite bar, where Veil is waiting, where the gang just start hanging out--and Adolin and Veil start talking about trying to set Kaladin up with someone. This is about the moment where I crowed in victory, because while I didn’t see this specifically coming up, Adolin and Veil being drinking buddies who are a) overly-invested in Kaladin’s love life and b) end up talking about attractive people together IS something I called at the end of Oathbringer. Bi Disaster Drinking Club lives.

(Casper, Adolin isn’t confirmed bi-- Listen. listen. give me this.)

“Oh, don’t be sour,” Veil said, smacking [Kaladin] on the shoulder. “You didn’t even glance at her. She’s cute. Look at those legs. Back me up, Adolin.”

I love all the Veil and Adolin banter we get here, because it only gets better--Veil asking for details of one of Adolin’s past relationships, Adolin trying to get out of it, Kaladin getting to enjoy time with his friends even when (maybe especially when) those friends are ridiculous. And then we also get another good moment of Adolin and Kaladin friendship when Veil goes off to gamble--Adolin asks Kaladin for advice for how to help Shallan with her own issues, but the advice Kaladin gives is also good advice for dealing with Kaladin, which Adolin knows and did on purpose. Kaladin asks why Adolin hasn’t become a Radiant yet, to which Adolin says that he’s not a good fit, he guesses--but the real reason, of course, is that Adolin refuses to give up Mayalaran.

Listen--by not giving up Mayalaran, Adolin is proving himself the Edgedancer she deserves and I will die on this hill.

And then things go back to being sad, because Rock is leaving--going back to his people to recieve judgement for breaking their rules by killing Amaram. He says he probably won’t be returning and hugs Kaladin, who gives him a few other members of Bridge Four as an escort--some of his kids, including Cord--the Shardbearer--stay in Urithiru.

I deeply suspect this will not be the last we see of Rock, because there’s no way in hell, but it was both touching and really sad at the same time.

We move back to Shallan the next morning, going through her day while Adolin is out horseriding; I can’t believe I nearly forgot Adolin is a Horse Girl, despite literally everything about Adolin being prime horse girl. Shallan gets a message about a spren coming to negotiate--probably one of Sja-anat’s spren--and she visits her brothers as well, sketching by their fire.

We get that she’s researched DID--or, the Rosharan understanding of DID--and the results haven’t been heartening, with people who have DID mostly being objectified and ridiculed. It also notes that memory loss is a common symptom, which Shallan notes she doesn’t really experience.

Mraize shows up at her brothers’ house, both as a threat--his cover is an older soldier who is known to be clumsy and could, in theory, injure someone around him--and to talk to Shallan. We get more of the goals of the Ghostbloods--they’re trying to set up an Investiture trade across the Cosmere. Which is actually super smart--investiture is pretty easy to come by on Roshar, which is the entire reason Vasher/Zahel is there. I can see Nalthis in particular loving a way to sustain their gods that, uh, doesn’t involve sucking out souls.

Mraize also basically confirms his mole is a lightweaver, which...I’m really hoping this isn’t the case, but I’m starting to suspect the mole is perhaps Formless, or a similar Alter of Shallan’s. She’s had some weird logic gaps that she doesn’t understand, and we just got the mention of alters maybe not able to remember what each other are doing.

Now, I really hope that’s not the case, because that’s a tired old trope with DID--the evil alter ego. It’s really tired and awful for people who have DID, so I hope that’s not the twist here.

Anyway, Mraize gives her her next job, which is going to find Restares--who is in the honorspren citadel of Lasting Integrity. Mraize says when she meets Restares, she’ll know what to do, and that once she completes that, she’ll get all the answers she could want from the Ghostbloods.

We go back to Venli in Kholinar; a new group of Fused are here for bodies, and Leshwi is worried about one of them in particular--one of the fannahn-im, Those of Alteration. We meet the Nine, leaders of the Fused who are in pillars fused to the floor of their chamber, which Venli points out is just dooming the people whose bodies they took to a horrible form of entombment.

Venli can feel Odium watching, which I responded to with “come on motherfucker, 1v1 me.” Listen, I would die, but what a way to go.

The Teleporting Fucker--Lezian the Pursuer--is one of the Nex-im, Those of Husks, who are the Ninth Brand. He doesn’t defer to the Nine and claims Kaladin has to be Fourth Ideal because he “couldn’t be defeated by an ordinary human.” Which is hilarious, because he was. You were defeated by an ordinary human whose powers were blocked. Kaladin is just that good.

Anyway, he claims he now has to go kill Kaladin because his whole deal is that he murders any human who kills him:

“Milennia ago, Lezian was the first Fused to be killed by a human. To avoid the shame of such a death, upon returning to life, Lezian ignored all orders and rational arguments--and went into battle seeking only the man who had killed him.”

So he’s a loose cannon who everyone goes along with because they can’t stop him and because he developed a legend around his stupid decisions? Got it. I’m really amused that this guy’s entire thing is just being Roshar’s Sorest Loser. Anyway, Leshwi disputes his claim and says that she has first dibs on killing Kaladin--Venli notes that Leshwi probably doesn’t even know that she’s trying to protect Kaladin.

Guys, I can’t believe Fused war tactics operate on the dibs system. Also, this feels just like a continuation of my joke that everyone in this series has a type and that type is Kaladin.

Anyway, then we meet the new lady who Leshwi is worried about--Raboniel, the Lady of Wishes. She was one of the Nine but stepped down to become more active; Leshwi talks about how she is a scientist without morals, whose plan the last Desolation was to release a plague that would affect Singers as well as humans and actually did, but fortunately didn’t have as great an effect as she hoped. So now biological warfare is coming onto the table.

Raboniel pushes to seize Urithiru to strike against the humans; she created the anti-powers Fabrial and now wants to reverse the “Sibling’s heart” to nullify radiants in Urithiru, although she notes that Fourth Ideal ones could pull through--and she wants to experiment on the Sibling, who is effectively a deadeye.

This is interesting, because we’ve already seen a deadeye start to respond to people--Mayalaran. Is spren necromancy going to get a day in the sun in this book? Please, please let spren necromancy through the power of friendship be a plot point.

Anyway, Leshwi offers Venli to Raboniel as an aide, while wanting Venli to spy for her on Raboniel’s plans; Venli is happy about being on this strike, because she wants to see if she can find someone who can teach her how to be a Radiant.

We also get this good note from Leshwi, which--to me--calls back the fact that there’s a whole narrative about if war can be honorable happening here:

“Extinction is the natural escalation of this war,” Leshwi whispered. “If you forget why you are fighting, then victory itself becomes the goal. The longer we fight, the more detached we become. Both from our own minds, and from our original Passions.” She hummed softly to abashment.

We get back to Kaladin, who pushed through the worst of his depressive episode (although I would note that this could support the idea that something Odium-y is making it worse; now he’s in the Tower, it’s Regular Depression which he’s better at dealing with). Sigzil has now been put in charge of administration for the Windrunners; Kaladin tried to make it Teft but Teft was like absolutely not, fuck you for suggesting it.

Kaladin goes to find Zahel, wanting to talk to him, and finds him doing laundry; on the way he talks to Rlain, who is overseeing people growing plants by gemlight and music, which is how the listeners used to do it. Rlain gets excited at the mention of an honorspren who will work with him, but when Kaladin explains the situation, he demurs--understandably.

“I will wait for a spren who will bond me for who I am--and for the honor I represent.”

Rlain--in particular Rlain, who knows the experience of being forced into partnerships and jobs you don’t want--doesn’t want a spren who sees him as a burden or something that they don’t want to bond, and that’s completely valid of him.

Anyway, Kaladin finds Zahel hanging up bright scarves in the laundry; Kaladin asks Zahel if he should join the martial ardents as a solution to what he should do next, noting that Zahel “couldn’t give up the sword.”

“Oh, I gave it up. I let go. Best mistake I ever made.”

YEAH, AND NOW YOUR SWORD SON IS TERRORIZING ROSHAR, VASHER.

Well, not terrorizing. Mostly it’s just with Szeth, who is...somewhere around here, probably. Somewhere Zahel is avoiding at all costs bc Nightblood would take one look at him and just start yelling.

Zahel spars with Kaladin, fully exploiting the colored cloth around them and his own style of fighting while talking to Kaladin about why he fights. In the end, he says he can’t sponsor Kaladin--because Kaladin still loves fighting too much for him to really be an ardent. Kaladin also notes that Zahel fights like Azure--Zahel irritably corrects that she fights like him.

God I really want to see Azure and Zahel on the same page. Vasher you can’t run forever.

There’s also a meta discussion; Zahel talks about the different levels of invested beings, and how he’s had to update it from the time in Warbreaker he did the same thing. He notes that for people like him:

“We’re spren masquerading as men. That’s why she takes our memories. She knows we aren’t the actual people who died, but something else given a corpse to inhabit...”

So that’s both interesting and rather somber; “she” in this case is of course Endowment. I’m not entirely sure what to make of this bit, other than that it’s sad and interesting in that it draws a comparison with the Fused, who do a similar thing but instead of taking the shape/personality of the corpse they’re inhabiting, kill it and replace it.

Also, I’m not sure Zahel is right, here, because Lightsong did remember his past as the story went on, and did remember emotional connection to people from his past. So there might be more there than Zahel is giving it credit for.

#row spoilers #row liveblog #the stormlight archive #venli and the long con #ghostblood activity

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briefololtragedy · 5 years ago

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Wooden Blocks Ch 3

Chapter: Baby Steps

Pairing: MinaSaku

Rating G

Summary: Minato and Sakura meet outside of the clinic without Naruto. Word count 5500

Posted on AO3

Her feet hit the pavement hard. She could feel her muscles contract allowing the blood in her to pump faster. Her heart was beating out of her chest and she could tell her face was beet red. The music in her ears drowned out some of the noises around her as she ran down the streets. This was her weekend morning ritual. Wake up, put on her running gear, and run to her heart’s content. It was one of the few times she was able to shut off her brain. Well she tried to shut off her brain. She thought back to coffee with Ino a few weeks ago.

“Come on Forehead tell me how the art gallery was. Did you guys have fun afterwards?” Ino kept wiggling her eyebrows.

“The art was different. We walked around and then we got dinner. He took me home and then left. “ Sakura sipped her coffee. Allowing the aroma to fill her senses. She just couldn’t see Kakashi as more than just a friend. She couldn’t handle the fact that he was late. She understood the first time, but this time he was almost an hour late and no proper excuse. Then when she was around him it always felt off. When the highlight of the evening is talking to a patient’s father that’s a sign.

“Seriously! That’s all you're going to give me. I need more details.”

“There is not much in the way of details. He was late by almost an hour. Showed up with just an ``I'm sorry'' and then we went on our date.” Sakura made sure to do her best man voice impression with the ‘I’m sorry.’

“Seriously Sakura, you need to stop finding fault with every guy you date. Don’t just focus on one small flaw.” Sakura did not see how wanting a date to be on time was a bad thing. There interests didn’t seem to mesh well.

“Plus he brought you food that day. Wasn’t that so romantic?” Sakura rolled her eyes. Yeah romantic if you get judged for being hungry and not being ashamed to eat. She did thank Kakashi profusely for the kind gesture.

“Give it more than just a couple of dates.” Sakura huffed into her coffee.

She was trying to look past a few hiccups in her time with Kakashi. They seemed to do well talking over text, but when it came to being in person together the click just didn’t happen. She asked him to lunch yesterday and it just keeps falling flat with him. Sakura also didn’t care for his favorite reading material, Jiraiya was a class A pervert.

Sakura forced her legs to go faster. Her mind wasn’t supposed to be overthinking. Its only job was to help her function in her run. After running for a little while longer she looked at her watch. Five miles. She slowed to a stop. Her muscles twitched in rhythm with her music. She needed food and coffee. Sakura lived close to the downtown area and her runs usually had her circling the heart of the city. She looked around and noticed she was in one of the more hipster areas.

A smile found its way on her face when she saw the antiqued green door to a coffee shop. It had recently opened and she had been dying to try it out. Sakura had almost thought to ask Kakashi to come with her to the shop last week but he didn’t like coffee. He also didn’t like mornings, so meeting before she had to go to work was a no go.

The small bell on the top corner of the door chimed as she entered. The shop was decently packed for 9am on a Saturday. She easily made her way through the store to the counter. ‘Hmm all of this looks so good. I want to order everything.’ One of the reasons Sakura ran so much was because she enjoyed eating. Most days she ate so healthy a fitness nut would say to take a step back. However, those days were to balance out when all she wanted was carbs, sugar, candy, and chocolate. Yes, Sakura at times ate like the elf her patients thought she was.

“I’ll have a White Chocolate Mocha with a pump of raspberry sauce and an order of blueberry pancakes, please.” Sakura could feel her blood sugar start to spike with her order, but she didn’t care. She wanted her sugar and no one will stand in her way. Her usual black coffee just wouldn’t cut it today.

After paying she took her number and looked for a seat. She scanned the coffee shop looking for an open seat. She hoped to get one by the windows because the thought of drinking her sugar and people watching really appealed to her. However, she paused when she saw a familiar mess of blonde hair.

“Mr. Namikaze?”

_____________________________

Over the last few weeks Minato felt like he was going at turbo speed. They were finally going to submit the proposal for the bank tower and he really wanted to get it. His desire to beat everyone else is what brought him into work on a Saturday morning. Well Naruto waking up at 6am this morning and then not wanting to go back to sleep also played a role in the decision as well.

Minato dressed Naruto in a simple outfit with a baby Yoda top and light jacket. It was such a beautiful morning that Minato strapped Naruto in a baby carrier and walked to his office downtown. The streets were peaceful as he strolled down the streets. He passed a few runners, saw some people on their stoops getting their morning paper. Mornings were one of his favorite times of the day. He always enjoyed the stillness that came with mornings. How things didn’t have to be rushed. Kushina could never understand his love for mornings.

“Why can’t you just go back to sleep. There are more hours in the day that you could be awake. Be lazy with me.”

Minato loved their lazy mornings, but he didn’t want to waste a day when there was so much work to be done. He soon found himself walking into the lobby of the building his office was in.

“Morning Mr. Namikaze. You just can’t escape this place it seems.” The security officer gave him a warm greeting. Minato just smiled and held Naruto closer to him.

“Is that Naruto?” The security officer, Jin, had come over to take a peak. He would never forget all the conversations he had with Jin when he found out he was going to be a father. Jin had 3 older children and provided a lot of advice. However, it was one of his lowest mornings that Jin was there for him.

It had been a month since Naruto was born and Minato went into work on a Sunday morning. He just sat in his office. For the first time tears fell from his eyes.

“I don’t know how I am going to do this.” He just wanted to wallow in his misery. Minato wanted to be alone, but Jin was checking the floors on his daily rounds.

“Mr. Namikaze is everything alright?” Minato wanted to say that no nothing was alright. Everything was wrong. How the hell was he going to raise a child on his own. Kushina would be able to do it without batting an eye. Minato didn’t read all of the baby books. He didn’t look at preschools and daycares before Naruto came into the world. Minato could barely put a diaper on in the baby classes.

Jin seemed to read his thoughts and he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry about Kushina. She was a wonderful woman.” Jin paused. Minato found the tears falling faster.

“Mr. Namikaze I have 3 kids of my own. I know you can raise Naruto and give him a wonderful life. My late wife died 2 years after our last was born. I found myself the sole caretaker of 3 rambunctious and moody girls. There are a lot of twists and turns in the life of parenting. The pain of losing a spouse will lessen overtime, but you will see her whenever you look into the eyes of your boy. I still see my wife in everything my girls do.”

Minato knew what it was like to lose his parents. It crushed him that Naruto would never have his mother.

“Do you ever feel like you were never enough?”

“All the time. But let me tell you something. As long as you love him that is more than enough.”

“Yes. Decided he should start earning money early for all the diapers we go through.” Jin gave him a deep laugh. They talked briefly and after 10 minutes, 8 of which Jin held Naruto and almost didn’t let him go, Minato ventured to his office. The moment he stepped in he realized one important fact. He forgot something for Naruto to sit in. ‘Crap’ Why didn’t he think further ahead! Minato looked around his office. He really wanted to work, but didn’t want to keep the heavy baby carrier on him. He strolled over to his desk trying not to panic. As he sat down in his chair he looked around. He then realized he had a suit jacket on the back of his door. He can lay the jacket out on the floor and Naruto could lay on that! Plus Naruto was holding his fox toy so that should provide enough entertainment for Minato to get some work done.

Within a few short minutes Minato was going over the proposal for the millionth time. Apparently in the middle of working Naruto fell asleep. It wasn’t until a knock on his office door happened that Minato realized the time. It was now 830am and he had been working for the last hour. He looked up to see who was at work today.

“Rin? Obito? What are you two doing here?” The couple were dressed casually both in jeans and simple shirts. Minato laughed when he realized they were in matching shirts. He really wanted Obito to propose soon. The last time they talked he was planning on it in the next couple of months.

“No Minato the important question is why are you at work on a Saturday morning?” Rin was taping her foot and hands on her hips.

“This proposal…”

“The proposal is perfect and will be submitted first thing Monday morning.” It was Obito who cut him off. Minato wanted to protest.

“Don’t even start Minato. You need a break, so here is what is going to happen. Obito and I will take Naruto for the morning. You will go enjoy some time to yourself. Heaven knows that you have not taken a break since Naruto was born.” Minato tried to butt in, but Rin kept going.

“And we at least won’t get pizza sauce on Naruto.” Rin was now pulling him out of his chair. Obito had gathered Naruto from the floor, he somehow strapped the baby carrier to his chest already. Soon the foursome were in the elevator heading to the lobby.

“Have a good weekend guys.” Jin happily waved as they walked through the lobby.

“You too Jin and thanks for the text.” Obito waved enthusiastically.

“What text?” Minato didn’t like what he was thinking. “Did you have Jin keep tabs on me?”

Rin and Obito looked at each other and simultaneously answered. “We plead the 5th.”

Minato tried to follow them, but Rin wasn’t having it. “Go find a coffee shop or something to sit in.” When did Rin become so bossy?

So Minato ended up slowly strolling down the streets of downtown. He realized that he was needing another caffeine hit and could use some food as well. His attention was caught by a new coffee shop with an eclectic feel. ‘This will do.’ Once he saw the menu the fate was sealed. He ordered a simple plan late and a lavender vanilla scone. He soon found his place in one of the booths by the windows. It didn’t take too long before he pulled out his iPad and started to read, Ready Player One.

He tried to shut his worrying mind off. Soon Minato became engrossed in the novel; he didn’t see a certain pink haired doctor walk in, not until he heard her sing-song voice.

“Mr. Namikaze.” Minato looked up and all the air left his lungs. Standing before him was Dr. Haruno in running shorts and a sleeveless racer back exercise top.

“Dr. Haruno. How are you?” His heart was pounding so hard he thought it would pop out of his chest.

“Sakura.” He just stared at her.

“Excuse me.” Minato was confused.

“Please call me Sakura. We are outside of work and I feel weird when people call me a doctor outside of work. And I am doing good Mr. Namikaze. How are you?” Minato felt like an idiot. She was saying to call her by her first name. He really wanted to hit his head on the table.

“Minato. Please call me Minato then. I am doing well.” Sakura smiled at him. He then realized she was holding a number card and he also realized there were no seats available. Minato weighed the pros and cons of asking what he was about to. In the end he didn’t want Sakura to leave.

“Please join me. There are no other open seats and it looks like you have ordered.” He could tell she was hesitant. The moment she sat across from him he felt the small victory.

Sakura wasn’t sure what possessed her to sit down with Mr. Namikaze. Minato, she corrected in her head. Although as she thought about it, it was the logical choice. He had an empty seat and she needed to eat. He looked more relaxed so relaxed when he was reading she hated bothering him. As she looked around she realized someone was missing.

“Where’s Naruto?” Sakura found herself a little disappointed the other familiar mop of blonde hair wasn’t present. There was something about Naruto’s smile that tugged at her heart. He was sure to be a heartbreaker.

“Two of my friends took him for the morning. They wanted to give me a break.” Minato almost felt jealous of his own son. How many women would want to be in this position? As much as he was annoyed at not being the main focus it warmed him on the inside that Naruto’s pediatrician cared so much for him.

“That’s so sweet of them. They won’t eat pizza while holding him I hope.” Her smirk caused his stomach to summersault.

“No, they are much more responsible. I’m sure Rin wants it as practice for their future. Although Obito has to propose first.” Minato was surprised at the ease of carrying a conversation with her. Their conversation was interrupted when Sakura’s order arrived. He had never seen someone so happy to see food. He couldn’t help but chuckle at her kid in the candy store look on her face.

The smell of her coffee and pancakes filled her nostrils. She could smell the warm blueberries from the pancakes and a hint of lemon. Her coffee was strong, but the white chocolate and raspberry cut through some of the bitter notes as she took her fist sip. She wasted no time drizzling the pancakes with the blueberry syrup. She had to slow her actions remembering the last time she scarfed down food in front of Kakashi. All of Sakura’s self control went to stopping herself from devouring everything.

Minato could see the struggle in her eyes as she slowly ate her food. Looking at her attire she likely spent the morning working out and was likely to be starving.

“You don’t have to hold back eating your food in front of me. What were you doing this morning?” Sakura was touched by his words.

“I went for one of my runs, so I am very hungry.” She didn’t fully unleash all her enthusiasm onto her pancakes, but did pick up the pace. They were so flaky and melted in her mouth, worth every calorie. They sat in a comfortable silence as Sakura ate and Minato read. Sakura felt like the two names she heard were familiar, but didn’t know from where.

Halfway through her food her stomach was happy enough to slow down. She then took in the appearance of the man she was sitting with. The first time she met him she realized how drop dead gorgeous he was, he still is. It’s no wonder why all the nurses swoon for him.

Soon they were parting ways. Sakura could only make it through half of her coffee, but was able to get it in a to-go cup with some black coffee added to it.

“Thank you for letting me sit with you Mr...Minato. Tell Naruto I said hi.” Just like that he watched Sakura walk away.

Minato texted Rin to see where they were. His nerves were on end until she texted back. Relief rushed over him once she said they were back home. Rin had a spare set of keys to his home and wanted Naruto to be in a familiar environment.

It was a quick walk back home. The moment Minato walked into his home he took out his phone to take a picture. Obito was sprawled out on the couch, Rin nestled into him, and Naurto played on Obito’s chest. Rin heard the snap of his phone and looked up.

“Minato! You’re back. How was your break?” Rin easily navigated over Obito and Naruto to get up. Minato thought back to his time with Sakura.

“It was just what I needed. Thank you for strong arming me into it.” Naruto startled to babble as he heard his father’s voice. Minato wasted no time in picking him up. Obito yawned and stretched.

“We should better get going. I expect to be babysitting more often.” Rin gave Minato a quick hug and kicked Obito as they walked out the door.

Minato sat down on his couch, Naruto on his knee. He bounced him up and down. After being in the coffee shop he realized how quiet his home was.

“You will never guess who I ran into today.” Naruto just tilted his head to the side and smiled.

“Dr. Haruno says hi.”

__________________________

The energy in the office was chaotic. They had just submitted the proposal and knew time would move at a snail's pace until they heard. It could be today or in the next couple of weeks. Minato wanted to throw up. He couldn’t think about all the what ifs, so started to check on the progress of their other buildings.

Currently they were working on a couple of restaurants for the Akimichi family, the Uhiha’s were wanting a revamped police station, and the Nara’s wanted a second building for their accounting firm. He also had that strange job from Nagato from a group called Akatsuki. Minato still didn’t know what the group did. All he got from Nagato was that the group represented a variety of different interests in a variety of areas.

Lunch was eaten at his desk as he worked through the hour. He didn’t want to stop. If he stopped he would just worry about that stupid proposal for Sarutobi International Bank. Minato looked up and saw Kakashi and Obito fooling around. Those two were only a couple of years younger than him, but acted like toddlers. At least Rin had a decent head on her shoulders.

He was pulled out his thoughts when his secretary called him. It was the Sarutobi group. They were calling already. They must have looked at the building proposal, laughed, and then threw it in the garbage.

“This is Minato.” His hands started to sweat.

“Minato, my boy. This is Hiruzen Sarutobi. I just wanted to tell you we got a lot of different architecture firms submitting some top notch building proposals.” Yep here came the rejection.

“Your group’s proposal was such an easy standout we didn’t have to debate for long. This was one of the smoothest meetings we have had for our buildings. Typically we take at least a month to decide.” Minato’s jaw dropped. Did Hiruzen just say…

“Congratulations Minato. Your firm has been chosen to build our newest tower. My office will send over the details in the next couple of days.”

“Tha…” He had to cough to clear his voice. “Thank you sir. I look forward to working with you.” Minato sat back as he hung up the phone. His mind was still processing what just happened. When he looked up he saw his staff looking at him. He got up slowly from his desk and walked out to talk to them.

Kakashi and Obito stopped fooling around. Rin had gone back to her own job after visiting Obito for lunch. He took in the faces of his staff.

“I’m sure you all would like to know what that call was about. As you probably heard, that was Hiruzen Sarutobi who just called. He wanted to inform us…” Minato paused wanting to build the dramatic effect. “He wanted to tell us we got the job! We will be building their newest bank tower.” Cheers soon erupted. Obito looked like he was about to have a heart attack.

“We need to celebrate. What do you think boss, how about Friday?” Obito was bouncing up and down. Minato thought about the idea. His staff deserved to celebrate the news.

“That sounds good. I’ll see if one of Choza’s restaurants could cater for us. Obito, I expect Rin to be there. Kakashi try not to be too late.” Minato went to walk away when he heard Obito speak.

“Come on Kakashi you have to bring the woman you have been seeing. Rin and I are dying to meet her. “ Wait Kakashi was seeing someone! How did he not know about this? Minato turned around and Kakashi was sending texts to someone. As Minato walked around his staff letting them know about the party he soon heard Kakashi’s phone ring. Minato didn’t care to listen to the conversation, but wondered who this mystery woman could be.

___________________________

Sakura walked into the office Monday morning more refreshed than she had been in months. She felt so energized that she went for a run this morning. Usually she waited till evening to run, but with the endorphins released this morning she needed to switch to morning. Seeing that her schedule was fully booked didn’t even bother her. Bring on all of the antibiotics seeking parents for their child’s viral infection and teenage girls with abdominal pain.

It seemed like time flew because the next thing Sakura knew she was seeing her last patient. As she walked back to her office she saw she had messages from Kakashi. His last message said to give him a call when she could. She wondered what he wanted to talk about. Sakura prepared herself for ‘the talk’ as she called him.

“Hey Kakashi. It’s Sakura.” She was slightly surprised when she heard his voice having an excitement in it she never heard before.

“Sakura thanks for getting back to me. I was wanting to know what your plans are for Friday night.” That was not the question she was expecting.

“I don’t have any at the moment.” Before she could continue Kakashi cut in.

“How would you feel about coming to a work party with me on Friday. The firm I work with just got this big job and the boss wants to celebrate. I was wanting to bring you with me.” Sakura’s heart warmed at him wanting her to come with him.

“I would love to go with you. Let me know the time and if yo…”

“Great I will pick you up at 8.” Sakura could hear people celebrating in the background.

“I’ll see you then.” Sakura sighed as she hung up the phone. Mei happened to be walking by as she sighed.

“What’s with the heavy sigh?” Sakura looked at her coworker. She was drop dead gorgeous, long reddish brown hair and green eyes. Sakra couldn’t understand how she was still single.

“Oh I’m just debating how late my date will be picking me up Friday night.” Sakura thought she would play it safe and plan for him to be 30 minutes late.

“I would kill for a guy to be late, it would give me more time to get ready. I’m never ready in time. Do you want me to cover your call shift that night? I think it would be fair since you covered for me a month or so ago.” Sakura forgot she was supposed to be on call. She was thrilled that Mei offered to take the shift without being asked.

“That would be amazing.” Now all Sakura had to do was figure out what to wear. Mei bid her a good night as they both headed out.

___________________________

Sakura stared at herself in the mirror. It was currently 820 and Kakashi wasn’t here yet. She had just finished her hair and makeup. After talking with Ino she decided to do a side french braid in her hair and then gathered the rest into a ponytail. She kept her makeup in neutral tones, but used her shimmery eyeshadow palette, giving her a grey smokey eye. It was now time to put on her dress.

She had gone with Ino yesterday after work to pick out something. Sakura wasn’t fully sure about the dress code for this event, so wanted something that could be dressy or more casual if needed. They had found a deep red off the shoulder fit n flare dress. She was going to pair it with her silver wedges. She wasn’t going to wear a necklace, but decided on drop earrings that were silver tear drops. Just as Sakura was putting on her heels her doorbell rang.

“Ready to go?” Kakashi looked amazing in his simple black dress slacks and white dress shirt. At least her outfit went with his. Sakura didn’t even care to bring up the fact that he was late, again.

“Yep, all ready.”

Soon they were entering his office building and Sakura was blown away by the lobby. Arched ceilings with metal beams. There were skylights allowing for natural light to come in. They took the elevator up to the 15 floor. As they got closer Sakura could hear that the party was in full swing.

“My friends are looking forward to meeting you.” Kakashi had looped his arm through hers.

“I’m looking forward to meeting them as well.” Kakashi and Sakura entered the party. There were trays of food being walked around by some waiters. She could also see a buffet set up along the windows. Kakashi navigated her around the party. He was looking for two of his closest friends.

“Kakashi! You showed up and only 45 minutes late.” A man with black hair and eyes was talking, the first thing she noticed were his kind eyes and smile. He was about as tall as Kakashi.

“Oh is this Sakura?” Kakashi untwined their arms and placed his hand on her back.

“Yes, this is Sakura. Sakura this is Obito.” Sakura paused, that was the name Minato mentioned. It then clicked in her brain. The two who were watching Naruto were also Kakashi’s best friends. That’s why the names were so familiar.

“Nice to meet you.” Obito’s grin was from ear to ear. Soon another person joined them. She had medium brown hair in a long bob and hazel eyes. The woman gave Obito a peck on the cheek. Sakura found Obito’s blush endearing.

“You must be Rin. I’m Sakura. It’s nice to meet you.” Rin seemed shocked that Sakura knew her name, but was soon shaking her hand vigorously.

“Oh it’s so good to meet you.” Soon the four were making the rounds at the party. Sakura enjoyed talking with Rin. They found out they had a lot in common with Rin working as a psychologist and Sakura a pediatrician. It was watching Obito and Rin interact that made Sakura realize she saw Kakashi more as a friend than anything else.

“Hey Kakashi has the boss man meet Sakura yet?” The moment Kakashi shook his head no Obito was leading them to another area of the room. Sakura froze when she saw him. Kakashi’s boss was Naruto’s father.

“Hey Minato. Kakashi showed up and he brought a date.” Minato looked over to the group. The moment Sakura entered the party Minato saw her. She looked breathtaking in her dress. That familiar feeling in his stomach returned. He could feel his heart beat faster. However, it was like a bucket of cold water was thrown on him when he saw she was with Kakashi. He tried to ignore the two as they walked around the party. Sakura attracted the attention of many of the staff and other attendants. One reason was that she came with Kakashi. The other was everyone was taken by her looks. It was not everyday a person with candy hair and dazzling emeralds for eyes came into the office.

As those eyes focused on him everything else faded away. Sakura then opened her mouth. “Mr. Namikaze it's good to see you again.” Sakura was conflicted on how to address Minato. She thought the best course of action would be to take the professional approach.

“Wait, do you two know each other.” It was Kakashi who actually decided to speak. He looked perplexed.

“Dr. Haruno is Naruto’s pediatrician.” Rin looked giddy beside Obito.

“Congratulations on the new job.” Sakura wasn’t sure what to do. She could feel all eyes on her and it was making her have a slight freak out. Soon Rin was telling stories of babysitting Naruto, which Sakura smiled at. They were then going to the buffet table and sat down to talk. Obito was part of the Uchiha family and decided to go into design over the police force. Sakura then got into a story of how she knew Shisui from childhood. Minato was friends with Fugaku and Mikoto, who had recently given birth to her second son. Itachi was an adorable eight year old who she had only seen a couple of times.

Sakura found herself needing some fresh air, which meant she would have to go down to the lobby.

“Kakashi I need some fresh air. I’m going to head downstairs for a little bit and I’ll be back up.” As she went to stand up Kakashi stopped her.

“We have a balcony we use at times. Let me show it to you. That way we don’t have to go all the way downstairs.” They two excused themselves. The balcony had a stunning view of the city and the crisp air was like a welcoming hug after being in a room with so many people. Kakashi just stood beside her.

“Kakashi, I have been thinking about what we are and…” She had to pause. Sakura wasn’t sure if this was the best time to bring it up, but she feared she would lose her nerve later.

“I have enjoyed spending time with you, but I feel like we would work better as friends.” Sakura rushed the part after the but. She could feel herself internally wince, hating how cliche she just sounded. However, she was speaking the truth about being friends with him, especially after meeting Obito and Rin. He seemed to let out a sigh...of relief.

“I have enjoyed spending time with you as well, but am glad I am not the only one who thinks we would work better as friends.” Sakura couldn’t contain herself as she hugged Kakashi. His chuckle sounded deep from his chest. She felt him place a soft kiss on the crown of her head. They went back to the party both feeling lighter.

“By the way I have someone who I think you would really like. She is a coworker of mine.”

____________________

Minato watched as they walked away. The feeling of jealousy was nothing like how he felt when Sakura just paid attention to Naruto. Minato could understand that. This however. This was something different. He didn’t know much about Sakura, but enjoyed being around her. Aside from Obito, Rin, Kakashi, and Naruto she was a welcome relief to the darkness that surrounded him so often recently.

So Minato followed them, discreetly of course. He couldn’t hear their conversation, but saw their embrace. His heart felt heavy. Then he had to turn away when Kakashi kissed her head. Minato went back to the table to sit back down. He watched as Rin happily ate her dessert.

“Do you think your friend would still want to go for that date?” Minato had to move on, one baby step at a time.

#minasaku #minato x sakura #minato namikaze #Sakura Haruno #naruto #fanfic #multisaku

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hellsfirekeepsyouwarm · 5 years ago

Note

Imagine where EZ and his girlfriend take a pregnancy test after she has symptoms but find it negative and both of them take it harder than expected because they didnt realize how excited they had gotten about having a baby

“I Have to Admit”

Hello loves, i am back with a new EZ imagine for the new year. I was taking my time, i am sorry, but i have a terrible writers block. But i am so happy to posting this finally. I hope you like it Anonymus.

Pairing: EZ Reyes x Reader

Word count: 1313

EZ knew something was off with you. He couldn’t wrap his fingers around it, but your mood swings, your cravings and then the pale face when you smell the food was already alarming. Usually you ate way more than him at one sitting, and even alcohol didn’t make you puke.

This morning wasn’t different. You woke up just after him, but your sleepy state changed instantly when your stomach flipped, and you felt the content of your stomach trying to reach the surface. You sped out of the bed, not stopping until the bathroom. You collapsed onto the ground, emptying last night’s dinner. You felt like your whole body is against you.

EZ was in you trail closely, grabbing your hair out of your face, calmly rubbing your back, his rough fingers touching your soft skin. Your body responded to his touch and you instantly felt the relief. After your let out everything, EZ was already holding out a wet towel for you. You put your face in the warm fabric, rubbing your mouth and sighing. You didn’t really know why, because it was over for now, or you knew you have to check the calendar, and there was no good news in it.

“Y/N?” EZ whispered, but you still jumped a little. You knew he wanted to know why are your head is always in the toilet, and honestly, you too.

“Would you please get my phone?” You croaked, you throat having a hard time functioning.

He nodded and hurried out of the room, but returning in seconds with your phone in his hands. He looked at you curiously, love and concern flickering in his brown eyes.

You tapped away on the screen, fearing it would show you what you was thinking. And hell it did. Your menses was two and a half week late. You didn’t even know the last time it was late, it was such a long time ago. You dropped your phone to the ground, not caring about the harsh sound it made. EZ shifted, his hands locking you in his embrace.

“What’s wrong?” This is not how you imagined to tell him that he might be a father in nine months. Shit, you wasn’t ready to be a mother. You took a deep breath, preparing to look in his eyes, and tell him you need to take a couple test.

So you looked up at his face, and you said quietly “I think I need to take a pregnancy test.”

You saw the utter shock in his features, and you almost laughed at it. You never saw him like this, like he forgot his name, and who he is.

“A preg.. Pregnancy test?”

“Yeah, I am more than two week late. And I am puking all around the house.” You sighed, head hanging low, feeling almost embarrassed. His hands slowly slipped under your chin lifting it up and turning your head towards him. When you didn’t protest, he cupped your face in his big palms. His face telling everything in the loss of words.

“I’ll go, the store is just a couple minutes away. Okay?” His thumbs caressing your puffy cheeks. You offered a smile to him, warming up from how he handles the situation. “C’mon, go back to bed.”

“Nah, I don’t think I’m fine enough to leave my new best friend behind.” He chuckles a little, flashing a smile for a second, then the concern creeps its way back to his features. “I’m okay, i swear” You assure him.

He plants a soft kiss on your forehead, then disappearing in behind the bathroom door. You are now left alone with your racing thoughts, and the discomfort from being too close to the toilet.

A kid? Now? Both you and EZ lived in a big hot mess, barely making through the constant shit from the club and Galindo and the feds. How could you take care of a child? Well, in the end it doesn’t really matter. Because you knew the outcome in any cases.

Your head sits on the top of the toilet, half asleep half chasing the thoughts, when you hear a big bang from the front door, making you wake up from the slumber.

“Ezekiel?”

“Y/N? Where are you hermana?” You hear Angel’s voice, his boots bangs on the ground loudly. Or is it just you hearing too much?

“Bathroom!” You shout, and he’s already towering over you at the door.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, squatting near you to see your face.

“I’m throwing up the food from last year.” He laughs, and you crack a smile too.

Just before he could ask more, EZ arrives with a similar bang of the door, and loud steps coming in your direction.

“What is it with you Reyes brothers and slamming the doors?” He smiles at you and shrugs, his attention already on EZ’s figure on the other side of the door.

“I called you a dozen times Prospect. Bishop needs us right now. We have to go.” He says firmly, there is no doubt EZ is ahead of a very long day.

“I need a half an hour, then…” “No EZ, there is no time.”

“It’s okay Ezekiel, I’m fine.”

EZ comes in view, he doesn’t need to ask, you already answering it. “I’ll wait up, don’t worry.” You say, trying to stand up. Hi embraces your hips helping you up.

“But the…” “No, you have to go. It can wait ‘til tonight.”

Well it cannot wait, but EZ has to go, and you don’t want to cause trouble for him, he already has a ton of shit on his plate. You’ll make through the day. You have to.

The last 10 minutes was your longest in your life. Your back is against his chest, rising and falling with yours in rhythm. Neither of you spoke, you just sat in front of the bed, waiting, enjoying the closeness of your bodies. Wrapping your heads around what’s next, if the tests comes out positive.

Your body is filled up with fear and excitement. His radiant the same energy, and you just want to get over with it, and get it done. When you look up at the clock you counting the last seconds back, and when it hits the tenth minute, you jump up speeding to the bathroom where all the test waiting.

You take a deep breath before you look at them, you feel EZ behind you. When you are ready, you look at the little test in front of you, study all three carefully.

Negative. Negative. Negative.

The biggest sigh leaves EZ you ever heard, but your breath stuck in your lungs. His forehead slowly hits your shoulder, and you just sink in the feeling of… of a disappointment. You have no idea why are you feeling it, when you prayed for this result all day.

After the results, both of you decided to take a bath, and relax. Now the water started to cool down around you, your head resting on the edge of the tub. EZ massaging your feet. He breaks the silence first.

“You know we could have do it”

“Do what?” You ask, distracted by the soft movements on your feet.

“Being parents. Having a kid.”

Your head snaps up. Did you heard it right?

“I think you would be an amazing mother.” He says, looking deeply into your eyes. He means it with his whole heart.

Butterflies erupts in your belly, you can’t control the smile that’s forming on your lips.

“I have to admit, I was a little disappointed.”

“Really?” EZ’s eyes lit up, surprised by your confession. You slide close to him, siting on his lap, cupping his face between your palms.

“You would be the best father in this world, I know it. “

His lips crushes into yours, his way saying I love you.

#ez reyes imagine #ezekiel reyes imagine #mayans mc imagine #mayans mc #jd padro #jd padro imagine #ez reyes #angel reyes

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prophecy-is-inevitable · 4 years ago

Text

Indulgence of Divinity: Chapter 3

Michael Langdon x OFC

Michael and Ms. Mead follow the Divinity deep below the Sanctuary proper after accepting a dinner invitation. The court's private rooms are unremarkable--with one enormous exception. The woman and Michael reach an understanding of sorts.

Chapter Warnings: mild language, bad-mouthing religion (maybe?)

Word Count: 3756

(Also posted on Ao3 under the same title.)

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Chapter Three: Into the Sanctum

“If you have the time, I would be honored if you could join me for dinner this evening.” She turned to smile at the older woman, her face once again stern and protective as she stepped to her king’s side. “Ms. Mead as well..."

Evening had descended throughout the halls, artificial though it may have been, when Michael and Ms. Mead found themselves in the presence of the “Divinity” once again. Head held high and hands clasped daintily in front of her, she moved with a grace and fluidity unexpected for someone that had been restricted from the rest of the Sanctuary. Once again, she was clothed in delicate white. It was much simpler than before; Michael caught himself musing on the swaths of white linen wrapping over her shoulder, around her waist, sweeping around, and the forest green cords crisscrossing over her abdomen. Quite the contrast to his elegant all-black ensemble of fitted pants, knee-high boots, and satin black dinner jacket with red velvet lapels and Ms. Mead’s usual onyx authoritarian pantsuit.

Murmurs followed in the wake of the trio. Sometimes she would cast the residents a polite smile and a nod that sent them off kilter. Who the hell was this bitch waltzing around like she owned the place? And wearing white in the presence of the Antichrist? How pretentious! Clearly, Michael hadn’t been the only one unaware of her existence within the Sanctuary. Again, the remarks were met with the gentle bowing of her lips and a knowing glance. The air around her simmered with restrained reprisal, something lurking just beneath the serene exterior. No wonder she’d been cordoned off from the others. She couldn’t help wondering if their treatment of her would be as callous had they been made aware of her purpose from the beginning. In hindsight, she would have taken the risk if it meant a chance for true socialization. Each couple or group they passed celebrating the holiday of love with lustful acts filled her throat with a suffocatingly bitter sensation.

Their strides carried them through the towering mahogany stacks of the library. Anything salvaged before the bombs fell was stored within the large interconnecting chambers and provided with the proper care and protection to ensure their survival. Whether it was for educational, historical, cultural, or entertainment, all texts deemed valuable in any fashion rested here for survivors to pluck and peruse. Glistening spines of newer volumes winked from the shelves in the candlelight and then faded from view as the three ventured further. The air grew thick with the musty organic smell of the immemorial collections. Tomes and documents of the most importance were sealed and accessible only with supervision for those that had received the lead historian’s permission.

A large relief carved into the farthest wall depicted a massive tree bearing various fruits. The sculpture was polished and otherwise devoid of embellishment with the exception of two areas. Each fruit depicted was inlaid with gems of their respective color. The focal point, however, was the great serpent woven through the branches and entwined around the thick trunk. Scales of ammolite covered the body in dark iridescence. Candle and firelight refracted within the individual shards to bring life to the inanimate; every flicker of flame gave breath to the creature and the illusion of the rigid body ever-winding around its arborescent host. A golden crown rested atop the serpent’s head and a gleaming cinnabar heart within the fangs poured red water into a fountain below the tree’s carved roots.

Michael watched as their guide reached forward to situate a circular ruby into the hollow depression of the serpent’s eye. The fountain ceased its flow momentarily, the sound of water diverting behind the wall, and propelled hidden mechanisms. One of the dark wood shelves retracted into the floor to reveal a staircase that descended further still into the depths of the Sanctuary. Flames ignited in the channels lining the stairs to provide light when the first footfalls landed on the top stair.

“I apologize for the theatrics. The court was adamant that our chambers not be something a resident could simply stumble upon,” the younger woman explained as she retrieved the red gem she had placed in the sculpture. The bookshelf returned to its original position after Ms. Mead passed through the threshold. Michael heard the patter of her steps quicken just a fraction to stand nearer, and he turned to offer her a slight nod of reassurance. He would never let harm befall her ever again.

The steps carried them deeper into the mountain and below the main construction. Portions of the walls next to the stairs had long been eroded, giving way to caverns of mineral pools and natural ornamentation of calcite draperies, flowstone, stalactites, and other formations. Michael found his eyes greedily drinking in the splendor that he hadn’t known lurked beneath feet since the very beginning. His preoccupation with ending the world had left little time for him to explore and appreciate the wonders below the surface.

“These caverns and passages have been here longer than any human construction above ground. It was part of what made it the perfect place to house the vestiges of humanity. Half of the work to create a habitable city had been done ages ago by nature. Of course, it needed some refinement and polishing to reach the exceptionally high standards of the world’s remaining elite. I preferred for our area to remain more natural.” Her fingers danced over the rough-hewn wall when it reappeared beside them.

A landing appeared around a slight curve illuminated with an inordinate amount of light. The air grew warmer with each step towards the rays streaming through the doorway until they reached the crest of another staircase. The sigh of annoyance was barely restrained when it passed Michael’s lips. The invitation had been one for dinner, not a hike into the bowels of the mountain. When they passed through the doorway, the gentle scuffling of his boots on the floor came to an abrupt halt and nearly caused Ms. Mead to walk directly into his frozen form.

Sensing that her charges were no longer at her heels, the woman turned and observed the slackened jaws and wide, darting eyes of the pair for whom she was quickly developing a fondness. There was almost a reverence to their expressions, and it filled her with gratitude and satisfaction. It showed on the widening smirk gracing her tranquil features. She was happy to let them admire her work for as long as they liked.

The tunnel opened up into a room of immeasurable size, and the elevation of the stairs provided an excellent vantage point. No palace ballroom, no exquisite cathedral, came to mind as an equal comparison. Even the Orangery of Versailles fell dismally short of the grandeur and expanse of the sanctum before their eyes. Towering column reliefs patterned the chiseled walls, and natural springs had been converted to focal water features that bled across the floor--the earth and soil--below in creeks and streams. The rest of the walls were tiled up to the vaulted ceiling in square, mercury glass mirrors. The reflections blurred the reality of a boundary existing within the room and added to the enormity of the space. Climbing vines of greenery and clustered purple flowers rooted into some cracks and crevices and dangled from the ceiling. An ornamental sculpture of a compass had been carved out of the domed ceiling and indicated the cardinal points.

Despite the low symphony of sounds and sights, their eyes were drawn to the burning orb casting light around the room as it sank towards a pond at the western edge. Ms. Mead was the first one to ask what they were both wondering. Almost.

“Is that…?”

“An affectionate imitation of it, yes. It’s hard to compress such a force to fit in this space, but it helps simulate natural growth cycles and circadian rhythms. I’ve been working more within biomes, and it’s helped with determining what areas of the sanctum can maintain which regions.” The younger woman tilted her head and extended a hand to indicate down the stairs. "I'd be happy to show you more if you'd like."

They reached ground level, below the oak and pine boughs, below the rainforest canopy, at the same moment a pale gray sphere rose from a small pool at the eastern wall. She grinned at the appearance of the lunar resonance and stopped next to the water.

“Perfect timing; I’m glad it rose early enough for you to see. The moon was much easier to create. I’ve been banned from creating fire, at least for the time being,” she turned with a slender finger pointed at Michael, “since that’s your job.” She was certainly looking forward to her restraints coming off now that they had been introduced and would soon be testing their abilities together. It was going to be spectacular if the atmospheric tension crackling between them was anything to go by.

Michael wasn’t quite sure what to make of things. For the moment, it was easy to believe that they were no longer underground. Trees stretched above their heads, branches curving around the pathways in verdant embrace, and birds and other small animals flitted along in interest. All of this...had been destroyed by the bombs and nuclear winter, yet here it was in an impossible place miles beneath a mountain. He craned his neck and nearly danced as he spun and twisted to view as much as possible, and he noticed the shifts in flora and fauna the farther their journey took them.

“Gargano used to be the last remaining area of ancient oak and beech forests left in Europe. Many of those trees here are from acorns and beech nuts I was able to salvage when we first came here years ago. It seemed a shame to lose something so beautiful because of the failure of humans.” She gingerly plucked an acorn from the ground and cradled Michael’s palm in her own to deposit the seed in his hand. Her hands gently closed his fingers around her, her fingertips trailing over his hand lightly when she pulled away.

“Repeat after me. ‘Cum mea vita, et vos vivetis.’” Michael did as she bade him and repeated the words softly. They echoed one another as they continued the chant, breath ghosting over each other’s cheeks when she stepped closer and covered his hand once more, and their gazes locked. Spindly roots wrapped around his wrist, snaked through his fingers, and a stem rose through the gap between. “With my life, you will live,” she finished, stepping away to let him observe his work.

Michael’s hand holding the seedling remained outstretched before him. Roots continued to curl along his skin as the stem grew further until two fragile leaves unfurled. Michael stared, eyes wide and glassy, at the vulnerable greenery in his grasp.

“How is this possible?” His voice was soft and bewildered. He’d burned away the souls of others with those very same hands. How could they also bring prosperity?

“While your powers may be unholy, their origin is still heavenly. Your father used to be the most favored of all angels, remember? He was never stripped of his power; it simply corrupted to fit the purposes he needed. All it needs is a little push to remember what it’s truly capable of doing.” She bent and scooped a small hole in the earth beside them. “Ms. Mead, would you mind carefully extracting that seedling and helping me plant it here?”

Ms. Mead looked to Michael for direction. There was a glimmer in her eyes that closely resembled fear. Was their plan to awaken the divine side of Michael’s powers and forsake their master? Would he forsake her? She swallowed thickly and glanced down at the woman kneeling in the dirt. Her Michael had done such wonderful things before, but never anything like this woman had enabled him. More than likely they had only just scratched the surface. Perhaps against her better judgement, Ms. Mead dismissed the doubts and began unwinding the delicate roots from around Michael’s fingers. The smile on his face was one she hadn’t seen in quite some time--one of excitement and delight, and for some reason it called to mind the warm smell of french toast. His eyes were sparkling with newly rekindled purpose.

Once the roots were free of Michael’s jeweled fingers, Ms. Mead stooped to place the seedling in its new home in the rich soil. The younger woman placed a clean hand gently, reassuringly, on Ms. Mead’s upper back until it was time to pack the earth to support the delicate sprout. Very briefly, the women’s hands both covered the dirt and they exchanged a small smile.

“Perfect. Thank you, Ms. Mead,” the younger of the two sighed contentedly. It was important to Michael that Ms. Mead felt included in his endeavors, and he extended his hands to help both women stand. He appreciated this stranger’s consideration where others would usually overlook his maternal figure. “You’re both welcome to visit the sanctum whenever you’d like, but I must ask that you refrain from bringing other guests. It’s better for them to think that their food comes from hydroponics and ingenious animal husbandry than...here.”

It felt like hours passed while they explored the eden. Woodland forests turned to lush foliage and bright flowers with humid air, arid sands grew resilient plants and faded to open water at one end while grasslands turned to frigid tundra at the other.

“How long have you been here?” Michael asked upon losing count of the different species of wildlife roaming around.

“The bombs fell almost two years ago, and you were planning for three years before that… I’ve been here for about five years, then.” Five years. Time had moved quickly while she was occupied with her studies. Now it was time for it all to come to fruition. “They moved me from the safehouse in New England to the Sanctuary here in Italy as soon as you made yourself known.”

They arrived at the far edge of the room and slipped through an archway to a dining hall. It was nowhere near as extravagant or embellished as the common rooms in the Sanctuary proper. The walls were unrefined and the same rough texture as the cavernous hidden stairway. The table was simple cherry wood surrounded by eight unimpressive matching chairs. One of the chairs was currently occupied. Michael tensed at the unexpected guest. He had been under the impression the three of them would be alone to converse leisurely.

“This is Aldair. You might recognize him from this morning. He is the High Priest in charge of my instruction in Neopaganism, which I’ve honestly found to be some of the most useful. The focus on nature has been very beneficial. He’s acting as my chaperone this evening.” The man stood to greet them, his wavy chestnut hair slipping into his olive eyes for a moment when he bowed, and he smiled brightly when turning to face his divine lady. His close cropped beard glinted in the dim light from the large fireplace and tall candelabras as he moved to pull out her chair.

She sat to Michael’s left so that Ms. Mead could remain at Michael’s right hand as he took the seat at the head of the table. Aldair made his way around to hold Ms. Mead’s chair out for her as well and gave her one last courteous bow when she was seated. The domes over their plates disappeared with a quick wave of the Divinity’s hand, and revealed lightly steaming fillets and baked vegetables in a sweet and savory glaze. There seemed to be an absence of meat on her plate, and a wider range of vegetables and grilled fruits took its place.

“I hope that you will find the meal to your liking. Everything is fresh from today. Please, enjoy yourselves, and feel free to ask anything you like. I’m sure you must have a lot of questions, and we can speak freely in front of Aldair. He’s considered a close friend.” She reached over and gently squeezed the high priest’s hand with an affectionate smile before returning to her meal. Michael’s shoulders immediately straightened at the display. Close friend? Discreetly, his icy eyes narrowed and he stared at the man with every intention of reaching into the deepest, most secluded corners of the man’s mind.

“Mmm, this is delicious,” Ms. Mead chimed after finishing a piece of the fillet and subsequently broke Michael’s concentration. “What is this?” The smirk that tugged at the other woman’s lips was nothing short of mischievous in conjunction with the gleam in her resin eyes.

“It’s venison,” she replied, and took a bite of her own food. Michael’s lips stretched tightly over his mouth in an attempt to hide his amusement at the slight cough from Ms. Mead. “I’m glad that you find it satisfying.”

“You said that you are open to any line of questioning?” Michael received a nod from the raven-haired woman on his left. “If you have been here for so long, and known who I am, why haven’t we been introduced? Santori gave his explanation. Now I want to know your truth.” She nodded again and politely wiped her mouth with her napkin. Michael’s eyes bore into hers with the same fire he’d used when conducting interviews months ago; however, he found her to be frustratingly unreadable as his glare unfocused.

“Honestly, I’ve been given the same reasoning as you. We needed time to develop our powers individually. You had a purpose to fulfil far sooner than I did, and they didn’t want to cause any distractions for you. Since the Apocalypse has begun, your abilities have grown tenfold. As you grow stronger, so do I. Now, the only way for us to increase our abilities is together.”

As you grow stronger, so do I. A surge of recognition forced him to genuinely focus his eyes on her and found her gaze already upon him. The same satisfied smirk graced her lips as it had this morning. The words, and the sensations they conjured within him, were more than familiar.

“Are you involved with the Cooperative?” Her smirk grew wider by a fraction.

“Yes. I receive all communications sent to and from the Cooperative. I also helped draft some of the Outpost Construction Plans, picked the location for and designed many areas of the Sanctuary, and worked with Research and Development on sustainability and resources.” So she’d been involved all along. He’s probably been in direct communication with her at some point and hadn’t even realized.

“You know Jeff and Mutt?”

“Oh yes,” she chuckled lightly at the mention of the coke-addled geniuses. “They’ve been working on something for me for a little while. I haven’t been in to see their progress lately, actually.” There was a brief moment of silence where her thoughts on the project took up her attention before she caught the others still waiting for further elaboration. “Of course, they don’t know who I am exactly. My credentials and my email are under a pseudonym, for obvious reasons.”

“You really do not have a name?” Michael crossed his arms and leaned against the table to watch for any flicker of emotion or tell for a lie. He was skeptical at best, and she could tell.

“I do not. My mother--she was a nun--was told not to name me, not to get too attached, because I was ‘a sin’.” She rolled her eyes as she made quotation marks with her fingers. “It’s amazing how people who call themselves believers seek to invalidate something genuine when it doesn’t fit exactly into their archetypes.” Michael hummed and smiled in reminiscence. He knew very well how those of a faith could quickly turn on their own when not precisely conforming to a given image. “I went from the convent straight into the care of my court. There was never much time spent with one person to charge with the task of naming.” Her indifference surprised him for a moment, though he supposed this had always been her reality and was simply considered normal. He leaned his chin on the back of his hand and let his gaze slide over her form.

“And so that responsibility falls to me.”

“You and I are expected to form a bond, so I suppose they decided it would be an ideal start to the bonding process if you chose.” Once again, there was the feeling of receiving a pet instead of a colleague or partner. Michael leaned back to swallow a mouthful of food and watched her push a forkful around on her plate.

“Are there any names that you like?” How was he supposed to choose a name for someone he didn’t even know? She smiled sadly and shook her head.

“Not really. I’ve never thought of names in that way since I knew it wouldn’t be my choice.” Michael frowned and titled his head to watch her. He had anticipated utilizing some of the “Cooperating” techniques when presented with the opportunity to seek his answers, and now the hardened façade he’d prepared was once again crumbling despite himself.

“It could be your choice. If you wanted it to be.” A slim hand reached across the table and clasped his loosely. He found that he had no interest in pulling away, and he rather enjoyed the gentle coolness and pulse of contentment she emitted.

“I appreciate that. I do. To be honest, I’m excited to see what you come up with. It would be quite special to receive my name from my king” She mimicked his inquisitive head tilt and squeezed his hand softly. “I trust you.” The words were nothing but the truth. Michael felt a sense of pride. And a sudden impending pressure to do right by this person that had granted him her trust. It felt like such a strange word after years of receiving worship. Was that considered any form of trust? His fingers inadvertently returned her gentle grasp.

“I believe it would be in both of our best interests to leave that for a time once we are more well acquainted. If we are truly to be equals, your name should be as meaningful as your purpose. Not something derived from impulse.”

She positively beamed. An unlikely someone was showing her respect and consideration, let alone acknowledgement of her role, that sometimes even her own procession lacked. Michael’s chest swelled in triumph at her pleased reaction. Compassion and flattery earned far greater rewards than hostility and impatience, after all, and that was something Michael knew all too well.

#Michael Langdon #Michael Langdon Fanfiction #Michael Langdon x OC #American Horror Story Apocalypse #ahs apocalypse #Indulgence of Divinity #my fics #This is 90% description and I'm (almost) not sorry #I am sorry for any typos that I didn't catch in my rush to post

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arlingtonpark · 5 years ago

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SNK 130 Review

For the first time, thanks to this chapter, SNK is more popular than Domestic Na Kanojo, a manga about a love triangle between a dude and his step-sisters, one of whom is his teacher.

We did it fam. Mission accomplished.

I feel like the scenario where the outside world and Paradis are kept apart with Paradis threatening to rumble the world if there’s any interference is something of an equilibrium point.

They say that nature has a balance to it. A natural rhythm that it follows on its own.

Predators hunt prey, so naturally there are less predators than prey, lest the prey population be wiped out. When predators are too many and prey is too few, the lack of food causes predators to leave the area or die off, which prompts the prey population to rebound.

So there’s a certain point at which things balance out. This is an equilibrium.

Social situations are like that too.

People have desires and preferences, and in a social situation, a dynamic will form that satisfies as much of those desires as possible.

Because the equilibrium point is the state of affairs at which as many people as possible are satisfied, in the long term any disruption to that equilibrium will be corrected.

Not because of magic or anything, but just because it’s the scenario that most people prefer, so the state of affairs will trend towards it over time.

This is a really long way of saying that I think that some variation on the King Fritz scenario is the best outcome everyone can hope for.

Everyone gets to live and go about their lives.

The downside is that there’ll always be an undercurrent of resentment. And, oh yeah, becoming titans and eating children is necessary to make the wall titans work as a threat. That’s bad, but a natural balance isn’t a utopia.

It’s a testament to how much the SNK world sucks that *this* is the outcome that allows the most people to be happy.

Rape, parents eating children, all of it indefinitely.

That’s one of the most frustrating things about this chapter.

Just…what even is the message of this story anymore?

Attack on Titan is a series about freedom and striving for freedom. Eren has embodied that struggle the whole time.

But now?

Eren is a lunatic who’s about to crush the whole world.

The Cringevengers are fighting for freedom, but not their own. Stopping Eren will only open a pathway for the world to retaliate against Paradis for the failed rumbling. Their mission is one of self-destruction.

That’s noble, but it’s looking more and more like the cringevengers are going to lose. They’re physically and mentally exhausted, and they don’t really have much personal stake in this anymore.

So I guess we’re heading for an ending where Eren destroys the world.

If that’s the case, then…what’s the message?

Is this a tragedy?

Tragedies are about characters failing to rise above their flaws, but they’re also supposed to be constructive.

Tragedies work when they show the audience that a happy ending could have happened but for the character’s flaws.

Romeo and Juliet could have lived if it weren’t for their feuding families, for example. The story ended sadly, but there was a clear path to a happy ending.

What is the path forward in Attack on Titan?

The Marleyans are shit. They’re racist colonialists out to dominate the world. They coral Eldians into camps, use them as weapons, and want to build a global empire. Their long term motivation is to preserve their global dominance.

Eren is a lunatic. ‘Nuff said.

The Cringevengers have the moral high ground, but…if they win, the Eldians still die. So…go Cringevengers?

Who is the hero of this story right now?

Which path is the right one?

What is even the message anymore?

The answer is that there is none.

The situation is clearly designed to make this outcome inevitable.

The world is going down this bad path because almost everyone has the same flaw: they are willing to kill people for the sake of their own prejudices.

If only a couple of characters had that flaw, this would be fine, but making this flaw so widespread makes it seem that humans in general are like this, and that’s wrong.

Most people are not like this.

I think the fact that humanity has not self-immolated yet speaks for itself.

I don’t know what’s going on in Isayama’s mind, but I wonder if maybe he’s a bit paranoid about tensions between Japan, and China, and the Koreas.

The possible social commentary in SNK is always interesting to think about, but I’m just going to skip over that here.

…

Ugh, I guess I have to talk about the pregnancy now.

So first off, my starting point when thinking about the pregnancy is that whatever happened, it didn’t involve rape.

That’s maybe something we shouldn’t assume, but I don’t think Isayama will cross that line. Having Historia go through that trauma for basically no reason is viscerally disgusting and I trust that Isayama knows that.

Attack on Titan is ostensibly about freedom; being forced to carry a child to term is not that.

Clearly.

So I take it as a given that there was no rape.

Once you do that, thinking about the pregnancy becomes much simpler.

There are really only two possible explanations:

1. That Historia fell in love with a man, decided to have a family…and that Isayama is playing up the possibility of rape for shock value.

Or.

2. The pregnancy is somehow fake.

So which is more believable?

Honestly, I lean towards (1), though I’d prefer it be fake.

Before this chapter came out, I never felt it was likely the pregnancy was fake. There was an aura of suspicion around it, but that doesn’t prove much.

We know the pregnancy was inexplicably advantageous to Zeke, and we know that Eren and Historia were up to something right before Eren disappeared.

Isayama is clearly hiding something, but a fake pregnancy specifically?

I see no reason why it would be that and not, say, a secret romance.

That’s what really scares me though.

Most people can explain why callous depictions of rape are bad. The number of people who can explain why callous depictions of queer people are bad is much smaller.

I ship yumikuri. In fact, it’s one of the few pairs I ship.

So call me biased if you want, but the bottom line is that Ymir explicitly loved Historia, and most people would at least say Historia might have reciprocated. I personally would say she definitely did.

Ymir loved Historia.

She loved her enough to reach out to her and try to save her from her own fate.

Enough to jump from the tower and fight off the titans.

Enough to make Bertolt and Reiner turn back to get her.

Ymir did all this because she loved Historia.

But Isayama, it seems, wrote it into his story that Ymir loved Historia just to move the plot forward.

And once Ymir’s purpose as a character was fulfilled, she was removed from the story and killed off screen.

That’s a really shitty thing to do.

Establishing a queer romance just so the characters have motivation to go from Point A to B and nothing more is fucking low.

It’s cheap as hell.

It’s offensive.

But, I have to point out, not as offensive as a rape victim carrying their child to term.

I think that’s important to keep in mind.

People have written about women’s rights for centuries. Those principles are well established, if not always followed.

Gay rights just aren’t.

Most people can tell you why reducing rape to cheap drama is bad; most people cannot tell you why reducing lesbian romance to a plot device is bad.

(The answer is that they both trivialize their subjects, albeit in slightly different ways.)

I bring this up because I think people underestimate the chances that in-universe Historia is pregnant because she wants to be pregnant.

We can infer from what we know that Historia is pregnant because it’s part of a plan to help Zeke or Paradis, but we can also infer that this is not exactly the case.

It’s not directly established that Historia is pregnant because of Paradis’ or Zeke’s machinations. All we know is that these people were plotting to use her to make babies. We haven’t seen the point where she was roped into those schemes.

So I don’t think it can be discounted that Isayama plans to pair Historia up with a guy, most likely either Eren or Farm boy. Unfortunately.

Gay people don’t have many allies in this world. Unfortunately, that means Isayama is likely to *not* be one of those allies.

SNK’s record of depicting gay relationships speaks for itself.

That was all what I thought before this chapter came out.

I still think that.

So.

Now I guess I have to talk about Historia in this chapter now.

So Historia’s scene opens with her having resigned herself to a future of rape and Eren telling her she’s a human being who has rights.

…

……

I almost can’t bring myself to talk about this.

You know, back when Attack on Titan first become popular, it got a lot of praise for how feminist it was.

It was a post-apocalyptic survival horror show, and it really stood out how many prominent women there were.

Hange, Annie, Mikasa, Sasha, Historia, Rico. These people saw real action and had real characters, and a lot of people appreciated that.

Yep.

Good times. Good times.

How did we get here?

What happened?

Historia’s character is all about agency.

She wanted to end her life because she thought she was a burden. In the cavern she was prepared to take on the same burden she’s taking on right now, but she chose to live for herself.

She saved herself from that fate.

She rejected her family’s burden and chose to forge her own path.

Now it’s like that never happened.

She’s back to killing herself for everyone else’s sake, except now she’s also a damsel who needs Eren to save her.

So Eren reveals his plan to her, and she’s totally distraught over it. She tries to reason with him, and Eren just glares at her like she’s Reiner or something.

Finally we get to the most eyebrow raising moment in this exchange: when Historia invokes Ymir to justify opposing Eren.

I think Ymir is supposed to be seen as a tragic figure in Attack on Titan.

She didn’t have to take the fall for those Eldian cultists. They plucked her out of nowhere and randomly decided to worship her. She didn’t ask for any of this trouble.

But regardless, she took the fall for them.

When she got a new lease on life, she chose to live for herself. She’d put herself before everyone else for a change. She’d let no one else’s fate decide her’s.

But it never turned out that way.

I think Ymir’s tragic flaw is that she cares too much for her own good.

She was always going out of her way for others and doing more than she needed to. Helping Connie, helping Historia, helping Reiner and Bertolt.

Her enemies.

Ymir is a good person at heart, and that’s not bad, but according to Attack on Titan’s morality, being “good” to the point of self-sacrifice is bad.

I think one of the morals of Attack on Titan is that if you sacrifice yourself for other people’s sake……you end up sacrificing yourself.

Ymir could have left Reiner and Bertolt to their fates and returned to the walls. She could have lived a happy life with her friends and the girl she loved.

But she didn’t.

She knew that returning to Marley would mean death for her, and guessed what happened?

She did the thing that would likely kill her and she was killed.

Ymir couldn’t help but be a “good girl” and for that she was punished.

Thus endeth the tragedy of Ymir.

Now we come to Historia.

“If I don’t do everything in my power to stop you, I can’t live with my head held high!”

Historia is using Ymir’s words, but she’s actually betraying Ymir right now.

Ymir meant those words in the sense of living for yourself and not others. In the sense of not being self-sacrificial.

As far as Historia is concerned, in her current situation, she only has two options.

Let them rape her for the sake of her people, or let Eren destroy the world.

That’s it.

As far as Historia is concerned, to oppose Eren is to tacitly support the rape option.

So Historia is using Ymir’s words, but really it’s an insult because she’s using them to defend what Ymir would have hated.

Her self-sacrifice.

One thing that’s interesting about Attack on Titan is what it says about standing up for yourself.

In the story, not being self-sacrificial ironically requires you to make sacrifices.

If Ymir had not helped Reiner and Bertolt, they would have been in a lot more trouble with Marley. In a way, if she had not gone with them, she would have been sacrificing them, in the sense that she would have been throwing them under the bus.

When Historia chooses to live for herself in the cavern, she screams about how she’ll happily throw humanity under the bus if it means saving herself.

That’s why she calls herself “the worst girl in history.”

As opposed to Krista, who is a “good girl.”

I think that’s what Isayama is going for here.

Krista is the “good girl” who’ll gladly take a bullet for you.

Historia is the “bad girl” who’ll gladly throw you overboard if it meant she didn’t have to debase herself.

Yeah, Historia later claimed she was in the moment when she said that, but that doesn’t mean much.

When you’re in the heat of the moment, and you’re acting on pure instinct, you’re likelier to reveal parts of yourself you wouldn’t otherwise.

Being in the moment doesn’t mean Historia doesn’t identify with what she said, it means she was speaking her mind with no filter.

In 130, Historia and Eren are superficially at odds with each other, but deep down Historia thinks Eren is right.

She doesn’t want to sacrifice herself, and I’m sure she feels she shouldn’t have to, just on principle.

The only reason she accepts this fate is because she feels she has to.

So when Eren asks Historia to not oppose him, and she refuses, he tells her she has it in her to do it because she’s “the worst girl in history.”

I think Historia is the kind of person who’d throw you under the bus if she knew it’d save what she values most: her friends, yes, but also herself.

But Historia is acting more like Krista, someone who’d throw their life away to save yours.

Eren is saying she needs to start acting like herself again.

He’s trying to remind Historia of who she is and what she used to think was most important to her.

(This scene is *so* misogynistic. I’m going to puke.)

The flashbacks in this chapter were presented as vignettes, so it’s hard to say how Eren’s scene with Historia ended.

One thing that stood out to me though was the clear through line that connected all the various scenes.

The first one is Eren talking to Yelena about Zeke’s plan.

Next scene is Eren and Floch talking about the real plan.

Then it’s Eren and Historia talking about the plan.

Then back to Eren and Floch for Eren’s reveal of what he’s really doing.

Back to Historia as Eren tries to win her over.

Then we cut to Zeke and Eren talking about Mikasa.

Finally, we go back to Historia.

This flow is important because we don’t know much about Eren’s talk with Historia, but I think we can tease out some clues based on what scenes we see when.

Historia is put on the spot. Eren has revealed his plan, and she opposes it. They argue back and forth, and we reach a point where Historia is at a loss for words, and doesn’t seem to know what to do.

Then we inexplicably cut to a conversation between Zeke and Eren.

A conversation about loyalty, affection, and standing by your friends.

The implications for what this hints at are huge.

Eren asks Zeke if Mikasa cares about him so much because of some Ackermann genetics.

Zeke replies there’s no proof of that, and Mikasa probably just loves him.

Finally, Historia speaks, and she asks Eren about getting pregnant.

She doesn’t go to such great lengths for Eren because she’s a slave!

She doesn’t subject herself to this because she’s being coerced!!

It’s because she L O V E S him ! ! !

Fuck this! Fuck me! Fuck everything!

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #snk 130 #snk spoilers #snk chapter 130 #eren jeager #Historia Reiss

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deepperplexity · 5 years ago

Text

Title: A Ray Of Fucking Sunshine

Summary: You were asked by Professor Snape to visit his office after dinner since he thought you had been moody lately - especially towards him. You go, of course, since you have no choice. Seeing as he was your potions professor. The fact that he was also your talented, secret lover was - of course - another reason to heed his command.

Pairing: Snape x Female!Reader

ABBR: (y/n) - Your Name │(y/l/n) - Your Last Name │(e/c) - Eye Color│(y/h) - Your House │

Word count: 1.337

Warnings: SMUT -Mature content/Sexual content, Swear Words.

Masterlist page // Masterlist post

You opened the door to his office, your handsome professor with the penetrating eyes. Not sure what to expect but ready to give him hell if he so much as breathed the wrong way at you. You slammed the door behind you with a sighed growl. Snape sat a few steps ahead, by his large desk. A desk you had many fond memories of. Especially memories of laying on top of it or gripping its edge until your knuckles turned white.

Snape looked up from the papers he was grading. His eyes dark, glaring and his features were ridged. “So, I’m here Severus,” you snarled as you stepped up to his desk. Your hair was up in a high ponytail that swung a bit from side to side in accordance with your hard stomps. Snape raised an eyebrow at you as he abandoned his duty of grading papers.

He stepped around the desk and towered in front of you like a black shadow. A dominant, intimidating, sexy shadow that made your knees weak - usually. At the moment you were not in the mood for his domineering ways. “Happy today, are we?” He drawled in that gruff voice that vibrated through you so easily. You huffed and crossed your arms over your chest as you turned your face away from him.

“Now now, Ms (y/l/n),” he said in a reprimanding tone, “don’t be reckless.” He grabbed your chin with cool fingers and forced your face back, forced you to look at him. His onyx eyes met your (e/c) eyes with a dark intensity. It made you quiver and moist - despite the fact that you tried to avoid it. He just knew all the damn buttons to push. “Don’t make me take points from (y/h),” he drawled and you sulked even more - how dared he use that as a threat?!

“Now, won’t you tell me what has your knickers in a twist?” He had a slight smirk and it made you furious that he could make you so weak with a mere touch, a mere look, even such a small thing as speaking to you sometimes was enough to make you want to tear his coat open and watch the buttons scatter over the stone floor. “(Y/n)? Answer me, why are you so exceptionally unruly today? You’re usually such a pleasant girl.” His voice sent a glowing shiver down your back.

You glared at him with tight lips in a thin line, “Oh yes, I’m usually such a ray of fucking sunshine. Excuse me for having any other mood!” You snarled. “Watch your mouth!” he barked back with a low thunder in his deep voice, “otherwise I might be forced to clean that dirty mouth of yours, (y/n).” His words made your thighs rub together, it betrayed what you were feeling inside. The hungry ache that only he could satisfy.

Snape raised an eyebrow as your cheeks began to flush, your skin misted and you wanted to rub up against him something fierce. You’ve been denying me, you complete arse! “(Y/n), are you turned on?” The poorly hidden chuckle made you want to tear his eyes out. You jerked your head away from his fingers and glared with rosy cheeks and took deeper breath’s that made your chest heave.

“You know damn fucking well how I feel,” you hissed and jabbed with your fingers at his chest. He barely swayed from the harsh touch, “you’ve been denying me..!” He chuckled once more and you pouted, annoyed and frustrated. Why do you have to play with me like this? I’m all yours, just take me for fuck’s sake!

He grabbed your hand and pressed it against the bulge that pressed against the fabric of his black trousers. Your breath caught. He was rock hard. Just like you were soaking wet. “My ray of fucking sunshine,” he smiled out, “perhaps we ought to actually fuck some sense into you?” You bit your lip, in sexual frustration and with frustration regarding his damn-near-unbearably happy mood. He usually wasn’t like that. It bugged you when you yourself were ready to put claw marks all over his back.

“(Y/n),” he mused, “let’s get you out of those tight clothes…” The heat that radiated from his eyes towards you was nearly enough to make you combust on the spot. “Come,” he said and pulled you closer as he also spun you both around. Your tighs hit the edge of the desk and he grabbed the hem of your sweater.

A few seconds later you were all but naked - with the exception of your stockings and shoes. His eyes perused your body with an approving look. “I’m glad you ignored wearing underwear,” he mused. His cool hand stroked the side of your face, down to your breast where he cupped you and toyed slightly with your erect nipple.

Your hands grabbed the edge of the desk as your knees grew weaker from his touch. His other hand moved down your ribs, to your hip before he roamed down the side of your thigh as you leaned your head back on a moan. “Let’s be quiet my sunshine,” he whispered close to your ear and you hummed as his hand stroked against the most sensitive part of your body. You quivered in response. “S-Severus…” you moaned out and he hummed in appreciation of hearing you breath out his name.

In the next moment, you were turned around and over. His hand pushed you down with determined force between your shoulder blades. The wood was cool against your skin, it made goosebumps travel across your sensitive skin. He smacked your ass, you yelped in pleasurable pain. “Ready for me?” You moaned in delight, more than ready, “good girl,” he said with an appreciative tone and the sound of his trousers opening up came after.

He pushed his manhood into you. You gasped as you felt him fill you up to the edge of being too full. He was talented, well equipped and knew just what you needed and how you needed it - whenever you needed it. He pleasured you as no other man had ever done before - you never wanted it to end.

“Severus,” you moaned as he picked up the pace. In the middle of the process of finding his rhythm, he grabbed your ponytail, effectively pulling your head back and lifting your backside higher in the air. Opening you up wider to his pounding slams. “Hush, I got you (y/n),” he mused.

Had you he did indeed. The frustrated anger left your body as he pounded you so hard that the desk moved and you would surely have bruises on your tighs and hipbones from the desk’s edge the upcoming week. Your head hurt from his pull on your ponytail and your back arched almost too much. But holy fuck it was lovely.

As he let go of your ponytail he grabbed your hips. He held you firmly in place as his tempo increased. You both close to release after several minutes of hard, core rocking sex. “Severus!” He slammed into you once, twice, thrice and with a guttural growl of your name he found his release in the exact moment you did. You both vibrated and shook as the pulsing of release flushed through you both with searing heat.

He kissed your neck softly, “You’re lovely,” his voice was but a soft murmur, “and I will not wait so long until next time (y/n).” You panted, a sheen of sweat covered your skin, but you felt elated and lighter than you had in two weeks. “Please,” you whispered and he kissed your neck once more.

His lips were filled with a promise of many more delicious encounters. Your stomach twisted with excitement as his hand trailed the side of your body with a featherlight touch to soothe the exquisite aching you experienced in many other places. The aching only he could induce with such pleasure.

Hey guys! ^^ So this fic is a bit more, umh, explicit I guess? ;P I wanted to make something a bit more graphic and I hope you enjoyed it! :* I usually don’t write things like this, but I want to expand my repertoire - so I figured I’d give it a shot ^^

Masterlist page // Masterlist post

Tags: @tahliamalfoydepp

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autumnslance · 5 years ago

Note

Hey, I'm gonna need you to give us a short story with Thancred teaching Aeryn how to gunbreaker now, specifically through dueling and close melee range.

((You’re just trying to enable me and get some trope-ridden, indulgent fic posted, huh? Well joke’s on you buddy, I already have a tropey, indulgent draft, though it’s from Heavensward patch era, featuring grumpy Thancred, amused Midgardsormr, and definitely a sparring match. Now on Ao3. So is the follow up.))

——-

“You’re avoiding me,” Aeryn said before Thancred could walk away.

“No,” he answered. “I have been busy. As have you. All of us, preparing for Ser Aymeric’s grand tournament.”

“Then let’s prepare,” she said. “Spar with me.”

“Perhaps later–”

She crossed her arms and glared. “Why? You’re lounging, so please don’t tell me you’re currently busy. I also checked with Tataru.”

Thancred closed his mouth to bite back the ready reply. “Why do you need to spar anyway? We all know you are going to win. ‘Tis what you do.”

She caught the bitterness he tried to hide. “Not always,” she answered. They did not look at each other for a long moment. “Anyroad, I shouldn’t get complacent. And you’re the best sparring partner.”

“Am I?” he asked. There might have been a hint of acid in his tone.

“None better. Absolute taskmaster.”

He snorted and pushed off the wall he was leaning on. “Well fine, if you’re going to be flattering.”

They made their way through the gates and across the Steps of Faith, the wind whipping at their clothes and hair. Aeryn watched him.

“What?” He asked.

“Aren’t you cold?” she asked. “After so many years in Thanalan, and you tend to wear lighter gear–”

“No,” Thancred said after a moment. “It is rather refreshing actually. And desert nights are chilly in their own way. Though I admit, I would not say no to an afternoon lounging in Vesper Bay’s square over crossing this bridge.”

“With overpriced orange juice from the Pissed Peiste?”

He did not reply, though for a moment it looked as if he might. He must have remembered he was angry, and wished to forgo banter. Aeryn suppressed a sigh.

“The tournament will be happening around here,” Thancred said as they reached the open plain beyond the Steps. The road stretched east and up toward Camp Dragonhead, clouds gathering over distant Xelphatol beyond the hills. Down to the west, she could barely make out the glint of Whitebrim’s towers.

“You will want to have a good idea of the ground,” he continued, crouching and peering across the open space. “Wouldn’t do to fall face first at some private’s feet because you tripped over a chinchilla’s burrow.”

“I think there’s a detail coming out to grade the area later today,” she said, drawing her rapier. “But that will just make it easier.”

“Hrmph.” He stood again, stretching as he did, then swinging his arms. “No doubt. Still; let us forgo magic for now. I want to see how you have worked on your swordsmanship these past few moons.”

“You’re sure you’re not cold?”

“I am limbering up,” he said, tone as cool as the air.

Aeryn shrugged. If he wanted to be that way. She was about to start her own stretches when Thancred suddenly dashed at her, blades drawn, making her bring her own up to meet them and immediately putting her on the defensive, forcing her back a few steps.

“Do your enemies announce when they’re ready?” He snarled, testing her defenses. He was mostly using his long Allagan blade, but she kept an eye on his smaller off-hand weapon; he had changed how he fought during his time in the wilderness.

Before, he had fought with a single sword, or matched short blades. His style had been flamboyant, even to the point of showing off, as a way to obfuscate his strikes and baffle his foes. As he pushed Aeryn across the clearing, she noted he still fought with flair and panache not found in most combatants–yet seemed more direct, less reliant on feints and misdirection than in the past. There was nothing wasteful in his movement, for all they flowed like a dance.

She could admit she was a bit envious.

And still on the back foot, godsdammit. She tried a parry Haurchefant had taught her, and gained back a few steps. A few quick strikes practiced with Lucia put Thancred on the defensive, and she caught him briefly grin.

“Mayhap your flirting across Coerthas has done you well after all,” he said, a sharp edge to the teasing.

“What?” Aeryn demanded. How dare he, he knew her better than—

The Echo’s warning came a moment too late as he spun away from her riposte, running his blade along the length of hers until with a flick of his wrist, her sword was caught, her arm twisted back as he stepped behind her, his offhand coming up to rest lightly against her throat.

“You’re easily distracted,” his voice rumbled low in her ear.

Aeryn turned her head to retort, but the words stuck when their eyes met and she was suddenly, intensely aware of being pressed against him, back to chest, their breathing heavy from the exercise and nearly in time with one another. They were close to the same height–he was only perhaps two ilms taller–so their faces were close, his brown eye strangely hooded and his lips were right there as he leaned in and gods why was she even thinking that…

They were close enough she could taste his breath, their lips barely brushing. Her eyes closed of their own accord, in anticipation of further pressure.

“…No,” he breathed, and she was suddenly spun, like when they used to dance to entertain the other Scions in that time Before Ul’dah.

Aeryn and Thancred stood in the snow, staring at one another. “That’s enough for today,” he said brusquely. “If you stay focused, you should do well enough against the Grand Companies.”

“Thancred…”

He turned away. “I apologize; that was an inappropriate distraction.”

She stared at his back for a long moment. Before he could turn his head to look, she cleared her throat. “Nothing to apologize for,” Aeryn said shortly. “All’s fair, as they say.”

“…Quite,” he replied, though sounded strange. “I believe I am rather cold after all, and will retire to the Forgotten Knight for some of Gibrillont’s mulled wine.”

She waited for him to add more, to invite her along, to offer to discuss whatever the seven hells that had been, but he walked on toward the gate. To be fair, though, she couldn’t quite manage to make those offers herself.

Aeryn watched him go, then continued to practice; not as effective as with a partner, but better than nothing, and she wouldn’t be returning to the city with him and the continued air of awkwardness.

“Thou art restless,” Midgardsormr’s voice rumbled from her left. Aeryn paused, looking over to see the small dragonet form of the ancient wyrm sitting upon a nearby stone.

“There is much to prepare for tomorrow,” she answered, returning to her drills.

“Yet there is spare time for courtship rituals?”

Aeryn fumbled mid-maneuver, nearly dropping her rapier. She blinked at him. “What? No! That was…we were sparring. Practicing, for tomorrow’s tournament.”

The dragonet tilted his head. “‘Tis not what it appeared, but mortals are strange.”

She only grunted a response and returned to her ready stance. Feint, riposte, zwerchhau…

“He is strong and skilled,” Midgardsormr continued, in a musing tone. “As I recall, such qualities are sought after, as mortals require physical mating to pass on–

“Midgardsormr,” Aeryn hissed–after stumbling again, her face on fire.

He flapped his tiny wings, and she swore he was grinning. “I was but making an observation, child, and musing on the differences between thy kin and mine own. Draconic mating is a melding of mind and spirit, rather than the flesh.”

“I am aware,” Aeryn said tightly, trying to not snap at the Father of Dragons. This was not helping take her mind off that almost-kiss. She was certain, too, the elder knew that.

There was a shift in the dragonet’s stance, and his deep black eyes now watched her closely, the hint of mirth faded. “Thou hath enjoyed the man’s companionship in the past.’Twould seem since his return, you have been at odds.”

Aeryn sheathed her blade; she was getting no further exercise in today. “…Yes,” she finally answered him. “‘Twould seem that way. I…failed to save the person he entrusted to my care, and then I failed to bring her back.”

Midgardsormr shook his head. “She but followed thy Mother’s call, and made her own choice. There was naught for thee to do upon the matter. Thou shouldst not blame thyself–Nor bear blame from others.” The last came with a slight warning growl.

“I…I don’t know if he does or not,” she admitted. “We’ve worked together, and he was honestly concerned when I was poisoned…And…” Her back pressed to his chest, his eye looking into hers, their lips not even an ilm apart. “…I’m likely imagining things, that’s all.”

That had to be it. A simple distraction, as he had said. She mustn’t read into it.

“Hrmph,” Midgardsormr rumbled. “How thy people have propagated when capable of such self-delusion is one of life’s great mysteries.”

She glowered at him. “Which of us is the expert at mortals, actually being one? You’re mistaken. Thancred is known for his flirtations and distractions; that is all it was. Naught more.”

The dragonet stretched, and made a motion almost akin to a shrug. “Thy protestations are noted,” he responded, before fading out in a puff of aether.

Aeryn rubbed her forehead. She could still sense his rumbling chuckle in the back of her mind. Once she was more or less composed–or at least no longer felt as if her face would set fire to the Gates of Judgment when she passed through them–she made her way back to the city.

—

What in the seven bloody hells had he been thinking?

Thancred ran a hand over his face as he nursed his mulled wine. The problem, of course, was that he had not been thinking. Caught in the rhythm of their sparring match, he had reacted on instinct, and she was right there and…

Inappropriate, he reminded himself. For so very many reasons. He knew at one point he had had a list, the first time he had bucked this ridiculous notion of an interest in the woman who had become their Warrior of Light.

There was one; the champion of the realm could certainly do better than a grizzled, magicless rogue.

There was another; since his misadventure in the Lifestream and being left in Dravania’s wilderness without magic, he now looked and felt closer to his actual age of thirty-two winters. Still young enough to do his job, but it seemed a decent gap against her twenty-six. She was even younger than–

That thought made him slug down a too-large gulp of too-hot wine. It helped focus the pain and gave an excuse for the tears threatening to appear as he coughed, waving away the bartender.

Aeryn had looked him in the eye and nodded when he had told her “whatever it takes” and yet…

That was not fair, and not part of the list, though he couldn’t help the anger, the grief, the shame at lying to F'lhaminn.

He retired to the small room in Cloud Nine that Tataru had rented for him. Laying in bed staring at the ceiling, he found his mind wandering back to the sparring match. How Aeryn felt pressed against him, how she smelled, how her grey eyes had darkened and then closed as their lips nearly touched…Godsdammit.

He could always blame spending time alone in the wilderness for how easily distracted he was by a pretty woman, colleague or not.

That Aeryn had seemed willing did not help; it would have been easier if she had pushed him away, cursed at him, reminded him that she did not experience such base attractions. A voice whispered that did not negate a desire for intimacy, and there were those rumors of her and the knight. He told that voice to shut up as he rolled over. But his imagination continued, conjuring images of furthering that kiss, of pressing closer, his fingers tangling in her fine black hair, the taste of her…

The aftertaste of mulled wine on his own tongue remembered the bite he had smelled in the fallen cup at Falcon’s Nest, her lying on the floor as chaos reigned outside, and the feeling of his heart in his throat at the idea of Aeryn poisoned.

Perhaps that was why he was in such a strange mood, he decided. Fear for his friend’s life, even as he was still grieving Minfilia.

Satisfied, he turned his mind to a mummer’s breathing exercise, a trick to fall asleep quickly, forcing his mind to still so he could rest.

—-

((There’s a lemony solo-Thancred follow-up to this too.))

#Final Fantasy XIV #Heavensward #Thancred Waters #Thancred x WoL #Midgardsormr #Lyn Writing #Shippy Nonsense #Aeryn Striker #tension #mutual pining #Dragon Dad is the best #hope this satisfies #and hope the read more works #temperjoke

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timeforelfnonsense · 4 years ago

Text

Mistress Wit

Wyll x Criella

Rating: T

Ao3

With Patch 3 out now, I decided to make another bg3 oc to romance Wyll! Dafni will still be the main character so to speak of my bg3 writing with Criella serving as a secondary protag & member of the party in Sunshine and Starlight. She and Wyll will also be getting their own little collection with Dafni & Astarion serving a similar role! However, as my writing is pretty ship centered you wouldn't really need to read one to enjoy the other!

Prologue

Criella brought her hands above her head, fists pounding against the transparent shield that kept her snuggly trapped in the mind flayer pod. If she could just find a weak spot…

Ah-ha!

It was faint but, Criella spotted a hairline fracture in the upper right portion of the glass. Perfect. Her tail dipped into the worn leather bag strapped to her thigh seeking her tinker’s tools. If she could just find her mallet she’d be able to shatter the glass and free herself from her confines. She reached for the top of her head, pulling her goggles over her eyes. With one precise strike, the mallet made contact with the pod’s lid. What had started as a single small fracture now spread across the whole surface in a spiderweb of spits and breaks. Carefully, her fingertips traced the somatic symbol needed to cast a gust cantrip.

“Ventus!” With the command spoken a small tempest broke free of her palms sending shards of glass flying across the clearing.

Her boots hit the ground with a soft thunk, the collateral of her escape crunching beneath her feet. She scanned her surroundings nose wrinkling with repugnance. This was definitely not Waterdeep. She’d crashlanded in some sort of hinterlands located god knows where. She brought her fingertips to her temples rubbing away the tension with little circles. She needed to locate civilization and quickly. It was only a matter of time before the dangerous effects of the tadpole squirming behind her eye would manifest.

She dug around her bag until her hand found its target. A spyglass forged of brass, runes of her creation glowing across the tarnished cylinder. Pushing her googles back up, she pressed the scope to her eye looking out into the forest. Her mind tingled, the Spyglass of Clairvoyance reveling a small settlement nestled in a nearby grove. It was no city of splendor but it was a lead. The only one she had anyway. Perhaps, whoever called the grove home would be able to point her towards the nearest healer if they didn’t have one of their own. Her body ached from the top of her horns to the tip of her tail. Even if they couldn’t see to the parasite they could ease the discomfort of being crammed into a pod had caused.

----------

Criella sat atop a traveler’s chest, her tail flicking idle from side to side. The groves healer had just set out alongside a mercenary band just recently. Meaning her only choice was to doodled among the druids until their Master Halsin returned. She let out a huff of air, blowing away a stray strand of straight, lilac hair from her eyes. If someone were asked to rattle off a list of locations they might find Criella Wit of Waterdeep, a druid’s grove would certainly not have been among them. She’d never been one for nature’s charms. Given the choice between a bustling market or a quiet glen, Criella would have picked the crowded walkways and noisy rabble of the city to the glen every time. At least she was among kin. All around her other Tieflings mulled about weary faced as they set to packing up what little they had. Criella’s gloved fingertips tapped out an anxious rhythm on the side of the chest. Criella knew better than most that right and wrong could be terms with objective definitions. But turning out helpless refugees and children? That was wrong by every definition. She had sat in Zevlor’s quarters discussing the events that lead his people to take refuge among The Oak Father’s servants. They had come from Eturel originally- Collateral damage in the wake of post-Decent xenophobia. People who had once been treasured friends and neighbors became easy scapegoats for the suffering Elturel’s people experienced in the hells. Her grip on the chest tightened. Were it not for the black leather gloves her pointed fingernails would certainly have left a mark on its suede surface. Well, if the druids weren’t going to help she would. She pulled out a well-weathered note pad and nub of charcoal. She could adapt her design for the Protector canon with relative ease. She’d have to find a way to streamline and simplify it given her the groves appalling lack of anything metal. What she wouldn’t do for steel and iron! Perhaps their smith would have some to spare though she doubted it by the state of his forge. “What are you drawing?” a tiny sing-song voice asked. Criella glanced up from her work. A little tiefling girl of no more than 10, was staring owlishly over the edge of her notebook. Criella’s lips quirked, tuning the book so the girl could get a better look at her scribblings. “It’s a diagram of an Eldritch Canon. I’ve made hundreds of the things but today I’m working on one just for you and your friends. To keep you safe.” She explained, tapping the tip of her finger to the sketch, “It’s sort of a… a mechanical cleric! If anyone gets hurt on the road it might be able to help.” “You can make that?” The child whisperer reverently. “I can make anything.” Criella winked, “Just give time and the right tools.” “Could you teach me?” She asked, her lower lip quivering ever so slightly, “I want to be able to make anything! I want to help! I’m not good at fighting or sneaking like the others maybe I’m good at making things!” Criella let out a chime of warm laughter. The little girl’s eyes were full of wonder and optimism despite all she and her kin had endured recently. She’d too had been more interested in tomes and tinkering as a girl. While her peers were swinging sticks and imagining themselves as knights and guardsmen, little Ella would climb the tallest tree in the yard and name it Blackstaff Tower. “Well I can’t teach you how to make everything in just one day but, I can show you a few things.” Criella brought her hand to her lips, sharp teeth tugging the grove from her left hand. With a heartfelt smile she extended her hand to her would-be apprentice, “They call me Misstress Wit of Waterdeep but since we are friends, you can call me Criella.”

Wyll walked the length of the makeshift training ground. Adjusting postures and offering up every word of tender engorgement he knew. The tiefling children had been ecstatic to meet a ‘real-life hero’, bombarding him with sweet, curious questions the moment he stepped through the gate. After such a warm welcome teaching a few sparing lessons while he waited for Halsin to return, was the least he could do. These children had already witnessed more than many noble old men would in their whole lives. They should have been chasing frogs, enjoying their childhoods without fear. Not training for battles they couldn’t win. Despite the cheerless nature of his thoughts, Wyll put on his warmest, bordering on a fatherly grin. “Not bad! Not bad! Now, remember not to keep yourself so open.” He instructed demonstrating his instruction for a little boy with rusty hair, “Like this.” “Keep it up little one. You’ll be a fine warrior one day!” A lovely voice called. The gentle, golden timbre belonged to a statuesque tiefling woman. Wyll’s heart sputtered a bit when her soft silver eyes fell across his face. A dazzling smile on her rose-petal pink lips. Walking beside her was a child- Nalia, the little girl with a missing horn. He’d invited her to spar but she’d only blushed and ran off. “Wyll! I look at what I made!” Nalia shouted dragging the pretty-pink woman along behind her. When she reached the ring she pulled free a small metal gadget no bigger than her palm. The steal contraption glowed with a soft purple light. It’s slivery surface marked with an inscription: Be Brave, scrawled in infernal. “Aren’t you clever!” He said crouching down to admire her handiwork, “What is it?” “It’s an eldritch canon!” She rolled her eyes as if it were the most obvious thing in the world The woman stifled a giggle, covering her grin with the back of her gloved hand. “Is that safe?” He asked cocking an eyebrow at the smirking beauty. “Yes! think of it as a mechanical cleric, Wyll!” Nalia said winking at her companion, “I’m going to be an artificer just like Mistress Wit!” “That’s right!” Wit nodded, “I think you’ve done enough work for today apprentice. Go on, take the rest of the day off...” As Wit trailed off a strange feeling began to unwind in Wyll's mind. The sights and smells of an unfamiliar harbor city danced across his senses. He could almost feel the sea breeze on his face. He saw a workshop so organized and meticulous it reminded him of his time with The Fist. He felt the uneven surface of cobbles stone under his feet as he tore after a thief, tears stinging at his eyes as the hooded figure mad off with the last project he and a half-drow woman had planned before she left. Lastly the memory of being confined to a pod and dragged to the hells. Wit blinked back at him dazed. Her slender nose wrinkled, her lips turned down in a worried grimace. “We should talk.”

Criella sat across from the Wyll at a shabby picnic table, poking at her gruel with a wooden spoon. The old woman had called it vegetable soup but remind her too much of the oil she used for in some of her machines to be palpable. “Not much for stew eh?” He teased taking a long sip of his bowl, “You haven’t spent much time in the wilds, have you?” “I am I that obvious?” she giggled, “I’m from Waterdeep- I’ve lived there all my life. Not much work out here in the woods for someone in my line of work.” Wyll tilted his head, bringing his chin to rest along the top of his knuckles, “Oh? And what is your line of work Wit?” He hadn’t heard of her? How strange. She was something of an arcane darling back home. If you asked someone where to inspired spellwork or magical mending. If they had any sense they would give you one answer: Wit and Wander. Well- Just Wit since Zoria had left for Neverwinter with her new wife…. “I’m many things; wizard, artificer, genius. Take your pick.” Wyll chuckled raising his tankard in approval of her assuredness, “Impressive.” “And what about you Wyll?” She said playfully, “Let me guess? You are a soldier. Mercenary? No, you are too upstanding to be a sellsword.” “They call me the Blade of the Frontiers.” He stated with a proud nod before continuing “Monster hunter. Hero. Protector of the common folk.” “The Blade of Frontiers? Now that’s a name!” She whistled, “And I thought Misstess Wit was a clever epithet! Now tell me Blade- How did you find yourself aboard the nautiloid?” Before he could respond the sound of a war horn rang out across the grove. Zevlor sprinting past them as shouting about a goblin siege at the front gate. Both adventures sprung to their feet as panic spread among the refugees. “Alright Blade.” Criella purred pulling her storm canon from the holster at her hip, “Let see if you live up to the legend.”

#bg3 oc #Wyll #elf writes #bg3 early access #Criella Wit

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crowkingwrites · 5 years ago

Text

Oops...I Did It Again

Pairing: Ramsay Bolton x Reader

Words: 1427 // Ao3 Link

Author’s Notes: This is a direct sequel to the one shot Oops. I highly suggest you read Oops first before reading this one. I may turn this into a trilogy if there’s a demand for it. Thanks!

You said no. Then you said, “Fiiiine, one drink.” One tequila shot turned into two. Then three. Then four. Then you found yourself taking ANOTHER selfie in the elevator because damn girl, you put too much effort into this outfit for it to go to waste. As you stumbled your way back to your apartment, you saw his door.

A devilish thought crossed your mind and you pushed the front door to your hateful neighbor’s apartment. It was dark inside, the TV was streaming a true crime documentary. Ramsay Bolton, your asshole neighbor that you had drunk sex with ONCE, was snoring away on his couch. He should realllllly lock his door at night.

After you closed the door behind you, you noticed how Ramsay’s chest rose and fell evenly. His shirt was missing, revealing his delicious abs. After the first time, you’ve been trying to get peeks since then. Carefully, you touched and undid his belt just enough to get to the prize. You unzipped his pants and reached for his member.

This was crazy. Who the hell gets drunk out of their mind and sneaks into their hot—I mean, asshole neighbor’s place? You began to touch him as he was sleeping. He was so big in your hand that you let yourself giggle. When you started a good rhythm, that’s when he woke up.

“Wha—what the fuck? Y/N? Fucking crazy bitch! What are you—you’re drunk!” Ramsay smirked at you and sat up. His penis hung out of his pants, staring at you. “Sit down, you crazy ass girl scout.”

You did as he said and sat down, smirking at him.

“Aren’t you going to say hello or should we just—

“Hi! I’m here. Your door was unlocked,” you interrupted. Ramsay started laughing.

“Yes. I can see you’re here. You were giving me a handjob. Hello. How are you?”

“I’m drunk!”

“You’re far away from drunk, sweetheart,” Ramsay pulled you into his lap. His hands were so strong when he gripped you. “What happened this time?”

“My ex called me,” you confessed.

“Ah, missionary guy,” Ramsay smirked.

“Mhmm,” you hummed, gently prodding his member. “He said that he misses me.”

“And do you?”

“Maybe. I’m lonely,” your eyes turned to his face. Ramsay carefully studied you. His cold eyes on you made you flush even more. His fingers traced your lips and went inside your mouth.

“Well, I guess I should do the neighborly thing then, hm?” His cheeky smile returned. You started to lick and suck his fingers as he fed them to you. “I should remind you that you don’t need missionary guy. You have me, remember?” You started giggling. Oh yes. It was on.

Ramsay pushed you down into the couch as he showered kisses throughout your neck and chest. He bit you only slightly, but bit you harder when you responded to his touch. Your hand brushed by his member again. He was already hard. Ramsay shifted you completely under him, towering over your body on the couch. His breathing hitched when you started to tug his member.

Ramsay’s forehead touched yours and you both met eyes.

“Are you going to always crawl back to me when you’re this needy?” he asked you. You gave him a good squeeze. He winced, but laughed. “You’re hungry. Don’t worry. Me too.” Ramsay buried himself in your chest once more. His hands glided up your sides, ultimately reaching your neck. God, you need this dress to come off now.

Ramsay must have thought the same thing as you because his saliva-covered fingers found their way into your panties. He worked them in and out until he felt how terribly wet you were. Your moaning gave your hunger away. Ramsay hiked up your dress and moved your underwear with his fingers.

“You’re not gonna take-take them off?” you asked in-between your hardened breathing.

“No time. I want you now.” Ramsay easily forced himself inside of you, making both sigh in relief. Ramsay started fucking you. He made your bodies go to an increasing rhythm. His hands tangled and pulled your hair. You wondered why you even went out with missionary guy in the first place. Your ex would look at you and do what little he could do and finish. Ramsay pulled the same missionary move while making you feel so goddamn filthy.

“Rams,” you moaned. “Kiss me.” He happily obliged. He rocked his hips back and forth int you while kissing you face slowly. He started with your neck again, working his way onto your jawline. Once he reached your cheek, Ramsay smirked into the kiss. You heard him whisper in your ear.

“You’re such a mess,” he teased. “I’m not even halfway done with you yet and you’re so close. Have so many men failed you?” He pulled you up and undressed you. His wide eyes wandered your form in front of him. His fingers traced your sides as the fabric fell to the ground. You stood in front of him completely naked. His mouth salivated like a dog. For a moment, you wondered if any other man looked at you this way. Ramsay was a hungry hound whose mouth dripped with want in front of you. Another devilish thought came to mind.

“How long have you wanted me?” you asked. Ramsay shook his head as if he left a trance.

“What?”

“You look at me like I’m a steak dinner. How long has it been since any woman has satisfied you?” You pushed Ramsay away from the couch, towards a wall. He leaned against it, studying you. You continued. “As far as I know, I have been the only woman inside your home for months. In fact, you knew I went out tonight. That’s why you left your door unlocked isn’t it? You knew I would walk in drunk and silly.”

Ramsay’s eyes widened at your realization. You wrapped your hands around his neck and pushed him into the wall. You kissed him knowing how badly he wanted you. Your mouth made its way down to his member. You licked and prodded it at first, waiting for him to say something.

“Fucking suck it already.”

“Admit it you left that door unlocked just for me.”

“No. That’s not—ugh,” Ramsay moaned when you took all of him in your mouth and spat him back out again.

“You want me. Admit it. Say it.”

“Fucking bitch,” he muttered. “You’re the one who walked in here and—ughhhh you bitch,” Ramsay’s eyes rolled back as you took him all in with your mouth again. Your hand massaged his balls. You spat him out, knowing you had all the power now.

“Admit it,” you smiled. Ramsay responded by putting you against the wall. Your face and chest smashed against it as he penetrated you from the back. Your hands laid flat against the wall as he thrusted. He pulled your hair once more for good measure, shutting you up completely. You could hear and feel skin against skin as Ramsay increased his pace.

Two fingers circled your clit moving constantly, winding you up like a clock. But alas, Ramsay reached his end before you could reach yours. He suddenly pulled out of you, spilling his seed on your backside. You regained composure soon enough to turn around a face him. His hardened breathing calmed a bit as he studied you.

“Fine,” he finally said, breaking the silence. “I may have overheard you and I may have left the door unlocked. Doesn’t mean I like you. You’re still a stuck up bitch with my cum all over your ass.” You closed the space between both of you and slipped your tongue in his mouth. He kissed you back with the same energy as you did. Before you pulled away, you bit down on his lip.

“Good thing we hate each other, right?” you winked before going to the door.

“Where are you going? You didn’t finish, and I’m not done with you,” Ramsay said more firmly. You looked down at his member and laughed.

“It seems like we’re already done here judging from your parts,” you snickered. “Come find me when you’re drunk and desperate I guess.” You closed his front door behind you. Ramsay was left standing there, mouth agape. How dare you leave him without his approval? How dare you make him feel small? Ramsay looked at the shared wall between his and your apartments.

“Crazy, stuck up bitch,” Ramsay muttered, pulling up his pants. “I guess I have a type now.”

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superhusbands-superfan · 6 years ago

Text

The Proposal that Wasn’t (and the one that was)

Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark | Words: ~6k | Rating: T

Additional Tags: Past Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Marriage Proposal, Established Relationship, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Natasha Romanov & Tony Stark Friendship, Avengers Family, Avengers Tower, Inspired by Friends (TV), Tony's robot children

Summary: Steve has A Plan to propose, and it's going to be the perfect, romantic surprise Tony deserves. Things are going exactly according to schedule... until they bump into Tony's ex-girlfriend, Pepper Potts.

Things go a bit off-book from there.

Or the Stony adaptation of Chandler and Monica's proposal story — because who doesn't love throwing Friends at the Avengers?

Read it on Ao3.

The Proposal that Wasn’t (and the one that was)

“It’s really great, Steve,” Natasha said, smiling down at the ring and then glancing at Steve. “Tony’s going to love it.”

“Really? You think so?”

Nat stood on her tiptoes to kiss Steve’s cheek and then squeezed his shoulder affectionately.

“I know so,” Nat said with a sharp, definitive nod. “When are you going to ask him?”

“I’m thinking tonight at the benefit I’ll convince him to sneak off with me for a minute alone. The event’s at the same place where we had our first kiss, so I know there’s a private balcony Tony can get us access to. And it shouldn’t be too hard to get him to agree for nostalgia’s sake.” Steve smiled at the memory and then grimaced a little when he realized he was definitely wearing his dopey, lovestruck smile. “Is that horribly cheesy?”

Nat shrugged with one shoulder. “Maybe a tiny bit,” she admitted, smirking. “For me? Absolutely. For Tony? It’s exactly the kind of cheesy romance Tony not-so-subtly lives for. It’s why you’re so perfect together.”

Steve smiled. “You think he’ll say yes?”

“I’d bet my life on it.”

Coming from Natasha, that was all but a guarantee.

They were on the dance floor when Steve finally worked up the courage to suggest they slip off to somewhere more private. Steve was sure Tony would take the suggestion to be sexual in nature, but he could work with that. And hey, if there ended up being a post-proposal sexual encounter, well… it wasn’t like Steve was going to have a problem with that.

Hell, it wouldn’t be the first time they… repurposed, for lack of a better word, these dragged-out black-tie events for something more exciting.

That said, it was also almost eleven fifteen. That was a perfectly respectable time to call it a night if they wanted to head home.

“Is it horrible that I’ve completely forgotten what this event is for?” Tony asked, his voice pitched low and his mouth near Steve’s ear as they continued to dance in small circles to the rhythm of the classical music being played.

Steve laughed a little and shook his head. “No, that’s what you have me for. We’ve made a sizable donation to the charity in the spotlight this evening. So there’s nothing to worry about.”

“My hero,” Tony said, meeting Steve’s gaze with a soft, flirty smile and love in his eyes.

This was the right moment, the right night. Steve could feel it.

Steve cut their dance short and grabbed Tony’s hand in his to pull him away from the dance floor and toward a quiet corner. “What would you say if I suggested — ”

“Tony?” a voice called from somewhere over Tony’s shoulder.

Seconds later, the one and only Pepper Potts emerged, smiling and looking as flawless as ever in a brilliant green dress that complemented but didn’t clash with her red hair, which fell down her back tonight in loose curls. The dress had lace on top and across the off-the-shoulder cap sleeves, but the skirt was simple silk and fell elegantly to where it almost brushed the floor.

Tony turned to greet her with a bit of tension in his shoulders, but no hint of annoyance or genuine discomfort. At least, not anything that Steve could detect — and after more than a year of dating, Steve considered himself fairly adept at reading Tony.

“Pepper?” It was almost more statement and greeting than question, but not quite.

“I thought that was you two,” she said, smiling at Steve as she moved to hug Tony hello. Tony reciprocated easily and then stepped away.

“What are you doing here?” Tony asked after Pepper had also given Steve a quick hug.

It was a fair enough question, Steve thought. They generally divided and conquered at these sorts of things. Pepper would attend some in her capacity as CEO and Tony and Steve would attend others as the still-incredibly-public faces of Stark Industries and the Avengers. Usually, they divided the events by location. Pepper was living in L.A. so she took the west half of the country, and Tony and Steve covered the East coast. International events were a toss-up and were typically decided based on availability and proximity to wherever the Avengers last averted world-ending disasters.

In short, it was rare that the three of them ended up at an event together.

It wasn’t that they avoided each other, really — the three of them got along just fine — but the media tended to make Steve and Pepper’s every interaction out to be part of a jilted lover saga and none of them needed or wanted that sort of press. When they spent time together, it was generally in the safety of their respective homes.

“To keep a long story short, the host of the evening is a close friend from college. She specifically asked me to show up tonight and I had a last-minute cancellation that made it possible for me to fly out.”

“And here you are,” Tony said easily. “Looking stunning, as always.”

Steve wasn’t going to be jealous about that, he decided resolutely. Tony had told countless people how great they looked tonight; it was practically protocol at these events, like chatting about the weather and complaining about uncomfortable footwear.

Besides, Steve’s evening had started with Tony describing in detail the things he wanted to do to Steve when he saw him in his tux.

“Thank you, Tony,” Pepper said, a faint pink blush on her cheeks. “You’re sweet. And you both look great as well.”

It was kind of her to say, but her eyes were on Tony the entire time. Steve couldn’t exactly blame her — it’s where his eyes had been all night, too — but he wasn’t necessarily thrilled about what a look like that might mean. He was probably reading into it far too much.

“Thanks, Pep,” Tony said. “How’ve you been lately? I’ve received surprisingly few phone calls berating me for missing one thing or another, I was starting to worry.”

Steve caught just the slightest hint of an embarrassed flush across Pepper’s cheeks.

“Yes, well you’ve been surprisingly mindful of your commitments and almost startlingly punctual recently, so there hasn’t been much of a need for my nagging,” Pepper said, voice full of good-natured humor. “I suppose that’s your doing, Steve?”

“Me?” Steve asked, incredulous. “I doubt it. I certainly can’t get him to do anything he doesn’t want to.”

“I guess your responsibility is just rubbing off on me, then,” Tony teased, grinning up at Steve.

Steve smiled back at him, but he glanced at Pepper in time to catch a look of hurt flash across her features. It was gone before Tony would notice, Steve noted, but it had definitely been there.

Now Steve was getting a little worried.

He knew plenty about Tony and Pepper’s failed relationship and enduring friendship. He appreciated Pepper’s place in Tony’s life even if he didn’t always understand it, exactly. They’d split on amicable, if awkward terms.

According to Tony, he’d ‘always been more interested in talking about future plans’ than Pepper had been, and he’d always been certain that he wanted to keep the option of having a family on the table. Tony had also emphasized that his being Iron Man had been a major part of why their relationship broke down.

Tony had been heartbroken and hurt, but he’d healed. He and Pepper were still friends and colleagues. Tony had found Steve. He’d fallen in love with Steve just as much as Steve had fallen in love with Tony. Things were good between them.

They were good, Steve knew that. He did. He and Tony had talked about what they wanted in their lives many times. Lately, they talked about their future as a definite, shared entity. It was why Steve wanted to propose.

So why the hell couldn’t he shut down the voice in the back of his head whispering that maybe, just maybe, he’d become an easily-forgotten ex if Pepper happened to have decided that she wanted the same things as Tony?

It was ridiculous. Steve knew Tony would never do that.

“How fortunate,” Pepper said, drawing Steve out of his spiraling thoughts with her easy teasing. “Have you two enjoyed the evening?”

Steve nodded agreeably, but for the most part, he let Tony field the question. He distantly heard Tony praising the food and decor, but his focus had drifted to the ring tucked into his jacket pocket that now seemed unnecessary.

The moment had slipped away. It was more than a little disappointing, but it couldn’t be helped. Steve wasn’t about to cut the evening short now that Tony had a chance to catch up with Pepper, especially considering the wide, genuine smile he was wearing.

Steve could be a good sport about it. Pepper had no idea she’d interrupted an almost-moment, after all, and Tony didn’t have a clue that this night was meant to be anything more than another dull black-tie affair.

“Steve?” Tony sounded worried. Steve snapped to attention, eyes on Tony’s face even as he relaxed and forced a smile. “You okay?”

“Yes, sorry I got a little lost in my head,” Steve said, happy he was at least telling the truth on that front. “I’m a little warm, actually. I might step out and get some air, if you’ll both excuse me.” Also true, and not a half-bad excuse; Steve was always hot and regularly ducked out of stuffy places full of people for a breath of fresh air.

Tony knew that, but he still narrowed his eyes at Steve skeptically, clearly not buying it. Before he could say anything though, Pepper cut in.

“I bet we could squeeze in a quick dance before the band packs up for the night,” she suggested with a friendly smile. “If you wanted, Tony?”

“Oh uh, sure,” Tony nodded, still looking at Steve for signs of distress.

“Great idea,” Steve said, firmly ignoring that a part of him he didn’t want to examine too closely that thought that was absolutely the opposite of what might reasonably be considered a great idea.

He managed a quick smile and then made a break for the nearest balcony. When he made it outside, he pulled out his phone and navigated to the secret group chat he’d requested JARVIS keep carefully hidden whenever Tony was in the room.

He had 27 unread messages from their friends, a pointless engagement ring in his pocket, and what felt like a massive headache forming.

SGR: Proposal’s on hold for now. Will explain later.

His phone rang approximately thirty seconds later.

“Hey,” Steve said, finally letting his disappointment and general frustration seep into his voice.

“Hey man,” Sam said, sounding sympathetic already without even know what happened. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing bad, really. Honest. We just ran into Pepper and — ”

“Tony’s ex, Pepper?”

“How many Peppers do you know?”

Sam snorted a little. “Good point. Why’s that getting in the way of your proposal though?”

Steve shrugged even though he knew Sam couldn’t see him. “I can’t explain it really, but there was a moment — the moment — but then we were interrupted and now…” Steve glanced behind him through the floor-to-ceiling windows and spotted them on the dance floor, easily picking out Pepper’s green evening gown. “Well, now he’s dancing with Pepper.”

“What?!”

“No, nothing like what you’re thinking. It’s just friendly. But it’s…” Steve didn’t really know what else to say.

“Yeah,” Sam said after a minute. He was using that unfairly sympathetic tone he used sometimes that always managed to convince anyone who heard it that he fully understood whatever you were going through, no matter how bizarrely specific of a situation it happened to be. “I’m sorry. That sucks.”

Steve sighed. “A little bit, but I’ll survive. Just didn’t want to keep you all waiting on big news that wasn’t coming.”

“What a shame, we’ll have to hide all the champagne for a little while longer.”

Steve’s mouth twitched up in a smile.

“Hopefully not much longer, though,” Sam said. It was a nudge if Steve had ever heard one.

“Definitely not.”

“Okay, good. We’ll see you tomorrow then. We’re all going to bed now.”

Steve laughed. Eleven thirty at night and half the team was going to bed, Steve was mourning his failed proposal, and Tony was dancing with his ex-girlfriend. “We’re getting too old for this shit.”

“Honestly,” Sam said. “Goodnight, Steve.”

“Night, Sam.”

Steve should have known things wouldn’t quite be that simple. They made it back to the Tower without trouble, Tony regaling Steve the whole time with a story Pepper had told him — Steve was trying hard not to be bitter about that because it wasn’t Pepper’s fault, damn it — about a recent SI investor who’d turned out to be horribly sexist, and whom Pepper had swiftly and humorously dealt with.

Unfortunately, when the doors of the elevator opened to the communal Avengers floor, Clint was sitting cross-legged on the floor, his crossbow entirely deconstructed in front of him.

It was close to two in the morning — Pepper and Tony had talked for a while — and based on all available intel, Steve realized a few things at once.

One, Clint only ever took apart his bow when he wanted to deep-clean and polish it and he only ever wanted to do that after he’d spent hours using it on a mission or at the Tower range. Two, Clint never used or checked his phone when he was shooting — the whole point of range practice was to get out of his own head and his phone had the exact opposite effect. Steve understood that, but just today, he also resented it. Because it meant Steve was about ninety percent sure Clint hadn’t heard the news that he’d called off his Propose to Tony mission.

The way Clint perked up as they shuffled out of the elevator only served to prove Steve’s theory.

“Hey lovebirds,” Clint said, looking at Tony. “What did you think of the — ?”

“The benefit was great,” Steve said quickly, his voice too loud and rushed to be considered casual.

“Right,” Clint said, his forehead creased in confusion as he stared at Steve. “But you were going to ask Tony to — ”

“I was,” Steve said, cutting Clint off sharply in a tone of voice he typically reserved for missions. “But I haven’t gotten to it quite yet.”

“Uh,” Tony looked from Clint — who suddenly found his scattered bow parts utterly fascinating and all-consuming of his attention — to Steve. “What’s going on?”

Steve squeezed the bridge of his nose and prayed for a miracle.

“Nothing, sweetheart,” Steve said, trying to infuse his voice with the natural softness that typically came to him whenever he addressed Tony. It was more difficult than it should be, but then he had been dealt a few more disappointments today than usual. “Just a little miscommunication, that’s all.”

“Sure… but about what?”

“Nothing you need to worry about, especially this late,” Steve said, placing his hand at the small of Tony’s back and trying to guide him gently toward their room. “I’ll explain in the morning.”

This was a problem for future-Steve, he decided. The headache he’d felt coming on earlier had arrived in full-force and Steve was just… well, sad. Sleep sounded good.

Tony went with him to their room, calling “Night, Clint!” over his shoulder for the both of them, but he was watching Steve wearily the whole time. It continued even as they silently got ready for bed and when they crawled under the covers together, curled into one another, same as always.

Steve knew he was being unreasonably unfair to Tony, who had absolutely no idea what had caused Steve’s sudden 180-degree mood swing, but he also couldn’t fully reign in his emotions.

“I love you,” Tony said. He sounded so… tentative. Like he wasn’t sure how his words would be received and that was just entirely unacceptable, no matter how Steve felt about the direction the evening had gone.

“I love you too, Tony,” Steve said, trying to infuse as much certainty and love into the words as he could. He pulled Tony close so his spine was pressed tight to Steve’s chest. Tony relaxed almost immediately and Steve cursed himself for being stupid enough to allow Tony to doubt anything about their relationship, even for a second. “Very, very much.”

Tony sighed pleasantly and mumbled, “G’night, Steve.”

“Night, Tony,” Steve whispered. “Sweet dreams.”

In the morning, Steve’s head was clearer, but Tony’s questions were also more pointed.

“So…” he said, broaching the subject before they’d even gotten out of bed. “Do you want to tell me what Clint was talking about last night?”

“Hm?” Steve asked, pretending to be absorbed in something on his phone that he actually couldn’t care less about.

“He said you were going to ask me something,” Tony said, his voice a little bit sharper now in an effort to command Steve’s full attention. It worked. Steve put his phone on the nightstand. “And you uh. Well, you freaked a little. So?”

Yeah, Steve should have spent less time sleeping and more time working out his cover story for that nightmare of an interaction. Hindsight.

“I told you, it’s really nothing — ”

“Steve.”

“Alright, fine,” Steve sighed. He scrambled for a minute, remembered Natasha’s advice that the best lies were always grounded in a little bit of the truth, and decided to run with his first instinct no matter how stupid it may be. “I’d been planning to talk to you last night. To um, well, I guess I just wanted to ask you… how do you feel about marriage?”

Tony’s eyes widened and there were too many emotions in them for Steve to attempt to decode first thing in the morning, even if it was already ten.

“How I feel about marriage as in…?” Tony made a vague gesture between the two of them.

“No, no, nothing that serious,” Steve shook his head quickly, hoping that he was doing a good impression of someone who definitely hadn’t dreamed about calling Tony his fiancée on numerous and increasingly sappy occasions. “Marriage as an institution. The concept of it.”

Tony’s expression slipped from cautiously surprised and maybe pleased to suspicious in an instant.

“And you talked to Clint about this conversation you wanted to have?”

Yeah, that was a glaring flaw in his plan. He confided in each of his teammates in different ways, but no one ever really consulted Clint for relationship advice. Steve snorted.

“It came up in a way that would be very difficult to try to explain, but yes,” Steve said. He was aiming for it to sound like an awkward admission, and he thought he was at least close. “Against my better judgment,” he added for good measure.

“Right…” Tony sighed. “Well. I feel like I’m at a bit of a disadvantage here, if I’m honest. Lobbing a question at me about the institution of marriage without any idea how you feel about it all?”

It was a probing question if Steve had ever heard one, but he decided not to answer.

“But all right, fine,” Tony said finally. “I guess… I’m generally in favor of marriage? I mean, what’s not to like, right?”

“Well, high divorce rate, all the business with joint finances…” Steve trailed off, already out of potential drawbacks.

Tony’s face fell a little, shifting from confused by the direction of the conversation to disappointed and Steve hated himself just a little bit more.

“Oh, so. You’re… not a proponent of marriage, then?”

“I’m not necessarily opposed,” Steve hedged. “I just read this article about how same-sex couples getting married could be playing into our largely heteronormative culture in society — the idea that being married is what makes a family, for example — and I got to thinking.”

It was all true. He’d read the article in question and thought about it. It was interesting, no doubt. Food for thought and something to keep in mind. But even after he’d finished the piece, he’d still overwhelmingly wanted to be Tony’s husband and have Tony be his as well. It was probably old-fashioned and meant they’d be conforming, but he wanted it nonetheless.

“Fair enough,” Tony said with a small shrug. “It’s not for everyone, I guess. It’s an excuse to get all your friends and family together, though. Celebrate the importance of your relationship.”

“True.”

“Is it… Is it something you’ve ever thought about for us?”

“Sure.” Steve shrugged as nonchalantly as he was able. “In the abstract, maybe.” No stretch of the imagination could make that true. There was nothing abstract about mentally drafting wedding vows. “You?”

“About the same,” Tony mumbled, staring down at the sheets he was twisting in his hands. God this was miserable. What the fuck was he doing?

Mercifully, Tony’s phone rang. He answered, seeming as grateful for the interruption as Steve was. It was a short conversation, but when it ended Tony was headed straight for the shower, apologizing for having to cut their conversation short.

Steve rolled over and smashed his head into the pillow to silence his frustrated groan.

Tony wasn’t sure he’d ever been more grateful to be called into the office for a weekend manufacturing emergency. Anything to bail out of that conversation which, in all honesty, had been breaking his heart a little.

He’d just… he’d really thought they were on the same page. Tony did want to get married, and whatever he told Steve, he’d absolutely thought about it in more than abstract terms.

He tried to put it out of his mind and fend off phone call after phone call from one of their overseas plants.

When the storm had mostly passed, Tony busied himself by fiddling with the specs for a new prototype he was toying with the idea for. If he was honest with himself, he was stalling.

“Oh, you’re still here,” Pepper said, peeking into the office Tony rarely ever used. She sounded a little breathless. “I expected you’d have gone home already.”

Tony looked at her and could pick out the signs of tiredness and frustration, same as always. She’d been dealing with the crisis this morning in her own ways, too.

“Not yet, no,” he said. He knew she’d sense that something was off and Pepper didn’t disappoint.

“Is something wrong?”

Tony shrugged.

“What’s going on?”

“Just a weird conversation with Steve this morning. It’s throwing me off, I guess.”

Pepper nodded thoughtfully. “Did you ever figure out why he was acting strange last night?”

“He said it was nothing. Had a headache, I guess. But…”

“But you’re worried?”

“I was under the impression we were on the same page. But it’s starting to look like I was mistaken.”

“On what front?” Pepper asked, before seeming to remember herself. “If you want to talk about it, that is.”

“Marriage. And who knows what else, honestly.”

Pepper frowned, her expression soft and understanding. “I’m sorry, Tony.”

“You should know where he’s coming from,” Tony said, trying for teasing but mostly sounding tired and sad. “You weren’t exactly gunning for the chance to marry me.”

Pepper didn’t say anything for a long pause. She looked conflicted, like she wasn’t sure whether to say anything in response to that.

“I think about that a lot, you know. About how I never really wanted to talk about our future together or make things more serious. It was a mistake, Tony. And if you give Steve the chance, I’m sure he’ll realize the same thing.”

Tony blinked at Pepper in confusion. He sort of felt like he was missing something. “What?”

“Anyone would be lucky to call you their husband, Tony. I wish I’d realized that sooner. And if Steve really can’t see that, well. Maybe he isn’t the person you’re meant to marry.”

Yeah, okay so Tony couldn’t have asked her to make that plainer. But he also wasn’t really sure what to say when his ex — a woman he’d been head-over-heels in love with for years and had, at one point, wanted to marry — told him that she’d been wrong about him. Said that anyone would be lucky to call him their husband.

It felt good, sure, but it felt just as wrong if not more so because he didn’t want Pepper to be the one saying it. Not anymore.

“Maybe,” Tony said, though the word tasted bitter and all just plain false. “I don’t know. But thanks, Pep. For talking with me, and uh.” He shrugged. He wasn’t quite sure how to phrase any of the rest of it, but he thought Pepper would understand.

She smiled her soft, genuine smile and nodded a little. She stood up and was almost out the door when she turned back and said, “I hope you two work it out. I like Steve. You guys are great together.”

Tony sighed as she pulled the door to his office closed and decided it was probably about time he went home.

Steve wasn’t there when he arrived, and Tony supposed he shouldn’t be surprised. No matter how long they were together, every time they fought their first instinct was to avoid each other. Tony didn’t even really consider this a fight, but he’d avoided Steve so it only made sense that Steve was also avoiding him.

What he hadn’t expected was Clint being in the shared Avengers kitchen. He was in almost the same position as last night, except he was sitting at the counter with his bow spread out in pieces across the countertop instead of on the ground.

Tony was surprised to find that he was frustrated with Clint because of last night, no matter how unfair that was.

“Hey Tony,” Clint said, still focused on putting together a portion of the bow. Looking closer, Tony realized this wasn’t the same bow from last night. It was a different, older model.

“Hey,” Tony said, grimacing at the sharp tone he couldn’t manage to keep out of his voice. “Have you seen Rhodey? Or Natasha?”

Tony had enough of a handle on his emotions these days to know when it was important to turn to his friends for help.

“Uh, no. Not lately.” Clint looked at Tony now that he’d caught onto his mood, and his expression shifted from one of intense focus to concern. “Why? What’s the matter?”

Tony opened the fridge and pulled out a container of raspberries. Might as well stress-eat snacks if he had to have this conversation.

“Steve and I finally talked about what you were asking about last night, and we… well let’s just say we don’t exactly have the same mindset.”

Clint’s eyes went wide and his hands stilled. “You don’t — not the same mindset? What?”

“Yeah, I know. Shocking. Tony Stark playboy-bachelor-extraordinaire turned guy-who-just-wants-to-settle-down. I just can’t figure out how I’ve been reading things wrong this whole time.”

“Reading things wrong how, exactly?” Clint was choosing his words carefully, his tone reserved and measured as he stared at Tony through narrowed eyes.

“I don’t know, I just thought marriage was something we were both excited about. Not, you know, like right now. But at some point. I didn’t realize how ambivalent Steve was toward the idea.”

Clint stared at him in complete silence.

“Have you lost your mind?” Natasha said, entering the room and the conversation simultaneously. “I could not possibly have heard you say that.”

Tony turned to her. “Right? See, this is what I mean. Didn’t Steve seem like the marrying type to you?”

Nat shot a look at Clint who raised his hands in a way that clearly said ‘don’t look at me, I had nothing to do with this.’ She rolled her eyes.

“Yes, he’s absolutely the marrying type. God, you’re both idiots.” She sighed loudly, her eyes falling closed as she allowed herself a moment to decide what to say next. “What has Steve done now?” she demanded, finally.

So Tony explained. He talked about the sense of wrongness last night at the benefit, the way Steve had cut Clint off in the kitchen and gotten all twitchy — at which point Natasha glared at Clint and said, “I thought you said this wasn’t your doing” — and his disheartening conversation with Steve that morning. He even mentioned his chat with Pepper, against his better judgment.

By the end, Nat was rubbing her temples like she needed assistance from a higher power to fend off the mother of all headaches. Clint was just sitting there looking vaguely uncomfortable, and Tony couldn’t really blame him. Clint looked at Nat for help, but she only shook her head and then waved him out of the kitchen. He fled, leaving the deconstructed bow behind.

Nat looked at Tony again. Her expression was a unique mix of frustration, concern, and fondness. Tony didn’t know what to make of that.

“Nearly everything you’ve just said is the result of a frankly incredible culmination of several misunderstandings,” she said after a contemplative pause. “Except for what Pepper told you. Anyone would be lucky to call you their husband; she was entirely right about that. And Steve would probably die a little inside if he knew that Pepper was the person to tell you that first instead of him. So, please, let me clarify a few things…”

“Welcome home, Captain Dumbass,” Natasha said by way of greeting when Steve got off the tower elevator a couple of hours later.

Steve winced. “I take it you’ve talked to Tony?”

“You could say that. How exactly did you manage to fuck this up so spectacularly?”

“I’ve been asking myself that all day. I’m an idiot. And I really need to talk to him. Do you know where he is?”

“He’s holed up in the workshop, I think. I mean, he knows you, Steve. He’s pretty positive you want to get married someday, so he’s just thinking you don’t want to marry him.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah, basically. I tried to explain, but he didn’t really want to hear it from me. Would you please go talk to him?”

“Yes. Yeah, of course. I’m going.”

Steve took off for the stairs, taking them two at a time when he reached them. In his hurry to get down to Tony, he completely missed Natasha’s small, mischievous smirk.

Tony was wearing a welding mask and holding a blowtorch when Steve got to him. He was working on something Steve couldn’t see.

That wasn’t the most confusing part of the scene in front of him. Oddly enough, in the main clearing of the workshop, Tony had clearly called the bots into action.

Dum-E was holding a bottle of champagne by its neck and had a print-off image of a bouquet of flowers taped to his metal arm.

U was on camera duty as usual, but Tony didn’t seem to be testing a new type of suit so Steve really didn’t understand the need for a camera. Especially considering JARVIS could just film everything anyway, and usually Tony only asked U to film so the other bot wouldn’t feel left out of the Important Stuff.

“Tony?” Steve called over the quiet roar of the blowtorch.

Tony jumped up, turned off the blowtorch, and pulled his mask off. He turned to Steve with a wide smile.

“Hey!” His smile faltered a little and he looked frustrated for a second. “JARVIS, what the hell happened to my warning?”

“I delivered it, sir. Several times. I believe you opted to ignore me.”

Tony rolled his eyes and walked over to Steve and the bots.

“Nat said you were upset…” Steve said, clearly confused beyond belief. Tony was, well, the opposite of upset. He looked happy, excited even. Maybe a touch nervous? But otherwise, fine.

“Nope, not anymore.” Tony was wearing a black wife beater that allowed the blue glow of the arc reactor to shine through just a little, and a pair of work pants he only ever wore when he was in the shop. He patted at his right pocket for a minute until he found whatever he was looking for. Steve didn’t realize it was a ring box until well after Tony said, “Natasha said it was important to you that this was a surprise, so I thought I could manage that,” and got down on one knee.

Steve was speechless. He’d just been hit with a wave of emotion so strong that he didn’t think he could form words if his life depended on it. He’d come down here to explain and beg for Tony’s forgiveness and now. Well.

“Steve, I never thought I would be lucky enough to fall in love with my best friend. I mean — don’t get me wrong, I knew when I met you that I was going to fall for you. But I never could have predicted how much you mean to me.

“You’re more than just the love of my life. More than just my best friend. You’re my partner, in every sense of the word. My other half. I’m not half as good at anything as I am when I’m doing it next to you. And I would really love to marry you, if you’ll have me. So.” Tony opened the box to reveal that he did, in fact, have a ring. “What do you say?”

Steve let out a small, wet-sounding laugh as he nodded aggressively and reached out to pull Tony back to his feet. Tony let himself be manhandled into a forceful kiss that he melted into immediately. “Yes,” Steve said, the words hot against Tony’s mouth, just to be certain there were no more miscommunications.

After a minute or so, Steve pulled back with a wide smile. Tony returned the smile in force.

“So Nat lied, then?” Steve asked, teasing.

“Same way you did,” Tony shot back just as playful.

Steve’s expression turned serious. “I’m sorry about all of that. I was being stupid. I thought that it mattered what I said or where I said it, but that’s not what’s most important.

“The only thing that matters is that you know that you make me happier than I ever dreamed I could be. When I woke up seventy years in the future, I never even let myself hope that I’d find what we have. You gave me a place to call home and a family — people that make it a home — without even really trying. You’re everything to me. And if you’ll let me, I’ll gladly spend the rest of my life trying to make you as happy as you make me.”

They both had tears in their eyes all over again. Steve pulled his own ring out of his pocket and held it out for Tony to see. It wasn’t in a box because, well, boxes weren’t exactly easy to hide when you were aiming for the surprise factor.

“I think I can live with that,” Tony said, his voice a little shaky. He took the ring from Steve’s hands and slipped it on his finger. They both smiled when it was a perfect fit, and Tony kissed Steve again.

“I think your ring is on the floor,” Tony said when they parted. “Your fault.”

“Yep, that one’s on me.” Steve was pretty sure he’d knocked the box out of his hands in his desperation to kiss Tony after the proposal. He glanced around them and remembered Dum-E and U. “I guess I don’t have to ask what the bots are doing now, do I?”

“Nope,” Tony said, delighted. “They had to be part of the big surprise. Dum-E, I’ll take the champagne now.” The robot whirred toward them and relinquished the bottle to Tony, the paper flowers taped to his arm swaying slightly. “The flowers were JARVIS’ idea, by the way.”

“Captain Rogers, I feel obliged to inform you that I suggested Master Stark order a bouquet of flowers from the store. Not make use of the printer he uses so infrequently he forgot it existed.”

Steve laughed. Tony patted Dum-E’s claw affectionately before he popped open the champagne with practiced ease.

“It’s perfect.” Steve noticed Dum-E preening under the praise. “And thanks, U, for dutifully recording it all for us.”

The other bot made an excited sound, and Tony smiled fondly as he handed Steve a glass. “I love you,” he said.

“I love you too, Tony.”

“J, you can send the others down if you want.”

JARVIS did, and a minute or two later Steve and Tony were engulfed in a huge group hug to celebrate their newly-engaged status.

#stony fic #stony #superhusbands fic #superhusbands #marvel #superhusbands superfan writes #steve rogers #tony stark #stevetony #steve/tony #marriage proposals #reblogging for timezones!

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living-dead-parker · 7 years ago

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Rock With You - Z.C

Summary: How did it end up like this? It was just a joke meant to benefit Z.

Warnings: I think there’s like a cuss word idk, WLW, flUFF, mistakes. Inspired by this song and this other song (also I found a gif that really makes me wanna write some lesbian smut oMG)

Word Count: 1.5K

It started off as a joke. Everyone was going on and on about how much of a cute couple Tom and Zendaya would be. Personally, you didn't disagree, you thought they could be an attractive couple, but you knew how well they were as friends. It was completely platonic and Zendaya would admit, that sometimes the thought of being anything more than friends with him would be weird and uncomfortable. As you began to hang out with the group more, you became comfortable with everyone to jokingly flirt with them all. It was just in your nature when you got comfortable with people.

"I mean, why don't we pretend we're together?" you asked jokingly one day, causing Zendaya to look up with an odd quizzical look.

'What is she plotting?' she thought.

"You and me? Why?" Zendaya asks. She's not completely opposed to the idea, liking the idea of having the limelight taken away from the idea of her and Tom dating.

"We don't actually have to date or anything. Just show us off more. In certain compromising situations that seem a little bit more than friendly. We can have Tom post something on his story and I could just hold you close or kiss your cheek. Post pictures of us being close. Just to take the heat away." you respond, adding a shrug to make it seem less like you're eager to do it.

From there, you two did anything to take the heat off of her and Tom. They weren't a thing, they just got tired of people wanting them to be something more. Then there were the others who really wanted her to be with Zac Efron more. So as the time went by, both of you posed in pictures together; kissing cheeks, holding hands, cuddling up, and so on. The thing is that it just seemed like, 'two ordinary gal pals, who will make you wish you and your bestie were this close,' as multiple articles have put it. Sure, a lot of people were beginning to question the straightness of the relationship, taking a lot of the flame away from Tom and Z.

The whole thing lasted three months, and as the time passed, you found yourself falling. Falling for Zendaya. You wanted to be able to actually kiss her, call her your girlfriend, tell the world you're together. However, everyone knows she's very secretive with relationships, so would word even be allowed to get out?

"Hey, Y/N, we're going bowling. Join us." Z says, approaching you in front of your trailer. You look over at her, noticing how she towers over you. It's not a huge difference, but it is a noticeable difference for sure. Her hair is in its natural curls, her face is lightly beat and her outfit is rocking.

"Sure thing, let me just get my wallet." you respond, quickly turning to get into your trailer. As you enter, the lights come on from flicking the switch. The wallet lies on the counter next to you, so you grab it, flicking the lights off again and closing the trailer door. You hold the wallet up, showing it to Z.

Z leads the way, grabbing your hand and leading you to where everybody is. Your heart begins to pound as he grasp tightens a bit. A part of you wants to freak out because holy shit you're holding hands with Zendaya. You're holding hands with the girl you've been following since her Disney days on Shake It Up. As a kid, you always thought she was cute, but now you get to pretend to be more than friendly with her.

Then it hits you again. It's only pretend. Z would never like you like that. Why would she? Her career is growing everyday, scoring movie deals left and right, grazing magazine covers and so on. She could take over the world if she wanted and you? Well, you were just getting your break.

Arriving at the bowling alley, Tony leads the way inside. Tom, Jacob, and Harrison are messing around, laughing about something stupid Tom just said. Zendaya walks next to you, talking about how excited she is to get back home. How excited she is to be reunited with her niece and her dog. She was excited to be reunited with her friends back home.

The mixture of the light from the moon and the light from the neon signs on the bowling alley window illuminate her face, making her seem just so much more beautiful than she already is. Her eyes land on the boys as Tom slips, falling onto his ass. Z starts laughing, her cackle even coming out sounding angelic. God, you are whipped.

"Y/N, it's your turn!" Z chirps as she finishes her roll, managing to get a strike. Her first one of the night.

"Step aside, losers. Let me bring it home." you jokingly tease. Though it wasn't far from the truth. You had managed to miss one strike, but besides that you were on fire. You took the lead with eight strikes. Tony came in second with six strikes, followed by Zendaya with four. Jacob, Tom, and Harrison were all struggling to get more than one.

You roll the bowling ball down the lane, watching as it takes down all the pins. You raise your arms in a victorious fashion. The boys all scream in shock as Zendaya runs up to you and hugs you excitedly. You hug her back, wrapping your arms around her waist. The boys take notice of the lingering touches, the prolonged glances, everything. They noticed that you were whipped. So they tried their best to sway Z in your way. It was a long shot, nobody knew what Z was really into. If she would date a girl.

As the night passes, the games come to an end. They instead choose to play at the arcade inside the bowling alley. They team up and play basketball, play shooting games and more. It's not until they decide to finally leave that you finally gained the courage to let it all out.

"Hey, I gotta use the restroom before we go. Z can you come with?" you ask. She nods, following you to the restrooms. Briefly, you turn back and watch as the guys all give you a thumbs up. You feel a smile spread across your lips, feeling a sudden boost in confidence. It's now or never.

You both walk into the restroom, surprised to see the only light is a neon red light. It was like a darkroom, which was slightly eerie, but also felt almost romantic. Suddenly, Whitney Houston was playing over the speakers. Talk about setting the mood.

"So, I didn't need to pee or anything. I really need to talk to you." you start. Z leans against the sink, crossing her arms as she eyes your, encouraging you to go on. Her eyebrows rise slightly, mentally questioning you about the current situation.

"Go on." she politely urges.

"Look, you don't have to...reciprocate. I totally get it if you don't. I just feel like I need to let it out," you start, looking down at your hands for a few seconds. You look up before speaking, taking in the sight of her confused facial expression. "I really like you. In more than a friend way."

The silence is deafening. Well, it isn't complete silence. Whitney is still playing through the speakers, but you still feel like sinking into the ground. Z cracks a smile as she stands up straighter, uncrossing her arms. She grabs your arm and pulls you closer.

"I really like you too, Y/N. The way you're so patient with me, how you're so gentle and the fact you did this to help us. It means a lot, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't have feelings for you." she speaks. Your hands rest on her hips as she goes back to leaning against the sink. Suddenly, Whitney is being replaced by Michael as The Way You Make Me Feel begins to play.

A smirk is placed on her face as your hands reach up to her cheeks and pull her in closer. You grow nervous as your lips touch, her soft lips moving against yours slowly. Her hands wrap around your neck as you pull her closer to you. Lips move in sync, hearts melt and beat in rhythm as the kiss becomes deeper. As you pull away, you rest your forehead on hers, regaining your breathing back to normal. As the kiss ends, Rock With You begins to play.

"Zendaya, would you do me the honor of being my girlfriend?" you ask her. With a soft nervous chuckle, she nods.

"Hell yeah." she responds. You pull away completely, taking in her appearance. Holy shit she's actually your girlfriend. You're actually dating her.

As you two walk out, hand in hand, the boys begin to whoop and holler. They cheer, taking notice of your interlocked hands. Their eyes widen as they see her smeared lip gloss on your lips and you can't help but to giggle as you wipe it off, barely realizing it was there.

"Please, no babies young ladies!" Tom warns. Almost in sync, you and Z flip him off.

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jarienn972 · 6 years ago

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Curse of Undoings - Part 12

My apologies for a slight delay in getting the next chapter posted. Last week was a busy one for my family as my oldest daughter celebrated her birthday. (Still can't believe that I have an actual teenager in my home - yikes!) I made @hookaroo wait a couple of extra days to resolve my cliffhanger and of course, she retaliated with a huge one of her own, so I think we’re even. ;) Also tagging @killian-whump and @castielamigos for this new chapter.

I have one more chapter planned after this one so we're getting close to the end and then it will be time to focus putting some new ideas on paper! Read it from the beginning on AO3 or FF,net or here on Tumblr: Pt1 Pt2 Pt3 Pt4 Pt5 Pt6 Pt7 Pt8 Pt9 Pt10 Pt11

It was over, but at the same time, it wasn't completely over.

The Black Fairy was gone, banished back to whatever private hell awaited her, yet the tempest she'd created with her curse still raged on outside the clock tower. Streetlights flashed on and off and a spray of brilliant sparks flew into the air when a transformer overloaded and exploded. Most of the nearby homes and businesses had already been plunged into darkness as the fury of the storm intensified.

Storybrooke General Hospital, where her husband lay dying, was three quarters of a mile from her current position and without magic to poof herself across town in a split-second, Emma knew she was going to need to brave the weather. She'd have to run as fast as her legs would allow, dodging hailstones and lightning to reach the Bug, but she didn't care. This supernatural storm enveloping the town was frightening, but it wasn't nearly as scary as the thought of losing Killian.

Before she departed the tower, Emma stooped to collect the sword borrowed from Rumplestiltskin that she'd just used to dispatch Fiona to some faraway realm, not willing to leave the weapon she'd come to fear laying around. Even if her visions hadn't been real, she didn't dare allow this sword to fall into the hands of the next villain of the week. As she reached for it, her fingers barely brushed the hilt when Emma noticed that it was glowing again, illuminated with a pale, icy blue light that seemed to be emanating from within the blade itself.

"What the hell?" she exclaimed, not that she was expecting anyone else to hear her. She extended her fingers towards the handle again, hopping backwards when the blade began to vibrate against the wrought iron grating. Emma found herself silently cursing Rumplestiltskin's name as the weapon vanished in a burst of bluish light and before she could brace herself against whatever was about to happen, she discovered she had company.

"Hello, Emma," her companion spoke up as Emma realized she was now face to face with the Blue Fairy in her fae form, sparkling wings fluttering as she hovered above the spot where the sword had previously been laying.

"How the…?" Emma stammered, unable to even form a complete sentence as she tried to piece together what she was witnessing. "Where did you…?"

"Come from?" Blue finished the question. "From the sword. Our combined powers were the only way to defeat the Black Fairy."

"Okay… Rumple said the sword was filled with your magic, but he didn't tell me that it was literally you in the sword…"

"It was the only way – my power to create the sword and yours to wield it. Fiona manipulated those visions you were experiencing, but Emma, you were always intended to wield the weapon that would defeat her."

"Alright then - we've defeated her," Emma began with an impatient tone in her voice, "So - how do we stop this? The storm – the curse? How do we bring Storybrooke's magic back?"

"Storybrooke's magic will return once the curse is fully broken, but I think you know what that entails."

"But how?" Emma sobbed. "Without magic, how can I heal him? Storybrooke is going to vanish and we're all going to die right along with Killian… What good did it do to defeat Fiona if we can't undo her curse?"

"I'm afraid there isn't enough magic here to heal Killian's body," the fairy confessed, watching with empathetic eyes as Emma's head bowed in defeat. "But, there may be enough left to keep his heart beating."

"Then for heaven's sake, do it!" Emma implored her. "You have to save him!"

"I can only provide enough to restart a stopped heart as he's not yet crossed over, but that's all I can do. The rest of the battle will be up to Killian and until he is safe, the storm is going to continue."

"Do it!" Emma cried as tears streamed over her cheeks. "Please, do whatever you can to help him – to help all of us!"

The Blue Fairy nodded and floated closer to Emma. "Hold out your hands for me with your palms turned upward," Blue instructed and Emma obliged. The fairy dipped lower, dusting Emma's palms with glittering dust as she pressed her own tiny palms against Emma's skin, together creating an iridescent orb that materialized between them. "I'm bringing together the traces of your magic that lingered through Fiona's curse with a sprinkling of fairy dust. It will fill his heart, but there is always a chance that it may not be enough."

"It has to be enough," Emma stated, trying her best to remain positive as the orb lifted up from her hand then whooshed away, disappearing through the tower wall. "It has to be enough," she repeated, lifting her head to thank the Blue Fairy for her aid before realizing that she was gone, leaving Emma alone inside the tower once again.

Emma shook her head to clear the gathering cobwebs, worried that she may have just hallucinated the entire exchange, but a scant glance down to the tower floor where no trace of the sword remained confirmed the reality. And now she could only hope that the little orb Blue had conjured would be enough to bring Killian back from the edge. Too many lives depended on it.

"It's been four minutes, Doctor," the nurse advised, reminding everyone how long their patient had been without a pulse.

"I'm not ready to give up just yet," Dr. Whale responded, his arms already aching from the effort required to maintain consistent chest compressions. "Is that damned defibrillator charged back up yet?"

"A few more seconds, Doctor," the nurse responded. "These power fluctuations are making it slower to charge."

"Remind me when this is all over that I need to ask Regina for a bigger generator for this hospital," Whale mumbled, peering down at the ashen face of Killian Jones while concealing a scowl behind his surgical mask. "You're supposed to be the survivor, Hook… Is this really how you want to go out?"

"Doctor, the defibrillator is fully charged," the nurse announced at last, holding the paddles at the ready.

"Hand 'em here!" Whale ordered impatiently as he reached across Killian's torso to grab the handles. "Alright, Jones… Let's try this again, shall we?" With a shout to clear, he pressed the devices against the bare skin of Killian's chest and there was a collective hush in the operating room as all anxiously awaited the response to this attempt to jolt their patient back to life. In the midst of their collective breath-holding, not a single soul noticed the tiny, glistening orb that descended through the ceiling and dropped onto Killian's heart just as the surge of electricity surged through it.

Whale hesitated for a few seconds, paddles hovering in preparation for a second attempt as a series of faint blips lit up the monitor.

"We've got a rhythm again," a nurse said cheerfully as the pattern became more steady.

"Alright, people," Whale spoke up as he handed off the defibrillator paddles to another team member as the machine was powered down and wheeled out of the way. "Let's get back to work here. Somebody get me another forceps so I can yank that damned bullet out of him before he bleeds out all over my operating table." Whale wanted to breathe a sigh of relief, but they weren't done yet. There was still a lot of torn flesh to repair and no time to waste.

The increasing intensity of the thunderstorm outside the hospital walls wasn't lost on Emma and Killian's family either as they awaited news on one or both of the newlyweds' fates. David had his arm wrapped around a tense Snow White's shoulders as she leaned against him for support. The fluorescent lights here in the surgical waiting room had flickered a few times before going out completely nearly twenty minutes ago, replaced by two dimmer emergency spotlights when the generator kicked in moments after the outage. The atmosphere was only making the already stressful situation more nerve-wracking as everyone knew this was no run-of-the-mill storm. This was the Black Fairy's evil sorcery descending upon them as the curse threatened to overtake them.

Henry had been momentarily surprised when Regina arrived to join their vigil, having braved the formidable weather to show up dripping wet at the hospital just minutes before the power went out. As happy as he was to have one mother at his side again, Henry was still concerned about his other mom. She was the one he needed to have here the most but she was still out there alone somewhere, battling the Black Fairy in the prophesied final battle.

"Any news yet?" Regina asked as she entered the darkened waiting room that was occupied solely by Henry and the Charmings. "I wasn't sure if cell phone service was still working so I left Leroy in charge at the jail and headed over here."

"Phones still seem to be working okay," David told her. "We just spoke to the sitter who was going to keep the baby downstairs until the storm lets up. And no, we haven't heard anything yet."

"You do realize that this isn't a normal storm?" Regina asked them, almost sarcastically, not willing to believe they'd be this naive.

"It's the curse, isn't it?" Snow wondered.

"It's a veritable typhoon of dark magic," Regina replied, "and we're right in the middle of it. Hook must be clinging to life or we wouldn't even be having this conversation. If the pirate dies, that storm will wipe us all away. There won't be a trace of this town left."

"Even if Emma defeats Fiona in the final battle?" David queried.

"Afraid so, it seems. Every dark curse has a fail-safe built into it somewhere. It looks as though Fiona made sure hers would proceed no matter how Emma's True Love dies and no matter who wins the final battle." Regina's clarifications might have explained the situation better, but it probably only raised anxiety levels.

"I sure as hell hope that Whale can keep him alive," David sighed.

"If he doesn't, Storybrooke and everyone in it will be doomed. That's an awful lot of responsibility falling on Victor," the Queen stated bluntly, but no one could doubt she was right.

"So, all that Killian's sacrifice in saving Henry has accomplished so far was to free us from wherever Fiona sent us?" Snow questioned. "Do you think that it was so we'd all suffer more?"

"If she's anything like her manipulative, enterprising son – and I'm pretty sure she is – of course, she planned for us to suffer," Regina replied.

"Do you think Emma will be strong enough to defeat her?" David asked with a slight crack in his voice. "I mean, after all of those awful vision and premonitions of her death, and all of the awful things she was forced to do while cursed, if this is really the fabled final battle, is Emma going to be strong enough?"

"No one really knows," Regina began, slouching deeper into the vinyl armchair. "The good thing is that Fiona has no magic at the moment, at least not enough to be effective, but that means neither does Emma. This has to be straight combat where skill and cunning will probably determine the victor, but even though it seems to even the odds, we're still talking about the Black Fairy – the mother of everything evil. I'm quite certain she doesn't fight fair."

"I know Mom is strong enough to beat the Black Fairy," Henry insisted, "but I don't know if she'll be able to put everything Fiona made her do behind her so she can focus. The things she said to me, the things she did to Killian – it was all done on purpose to give Fiona an advantage."

"I'm afraid it doesn't really matter, Henry," Regina lamented, her tone decidedly bitter as she weighed the potential outcomes. "It's all a moot point if Hook dies. We're all going to lose no matter who wins that battle. Fiona made damned sure of it, as did her little lackey grandson."

"Well then, Blue had better be right about there being enough magic to keep Killian's heart beating," a voice announced from the corridor beyond the dismal waiting room. Recognizing the voice, everyone immediately turned toward the doorway to see the silhouette of a drenched Emma step into view, little puddles of cursed rainwater pooling at her feet.

"Mom!" Henry exclaimed, leaping to his feet and nearly tackling Emma back into the hallway as he hugged her as tight as he could. "You did it! You beat the Black Fairy!"

"Yeah, kid – I did," Emma replied with a proud, but exhausted smile curling on her lips. Her tone wasn't nearly as excited as her son's since despite her victory, the battle wasn't yet won.

"Fiona's gone?" David asked as he rose from his seat to embrace his daughter, not even caring that his clothing was now nearly as soaking wet as hers. "You killed her?"

"Yes – she's gone, for good, but no, I didn't have to kill her. Apparently, Rumple and the Blue Fairy conspired to brew up a concoction that sent her on a one-way trip to some distant, lonely realm."

"One way?" Regina asked skeptically.

"I asked the same question and according to Rumple, the portal that opened up and sucked her into oblivion has a blood seal on it that prevents her from returning to this realm, or any other, for that matter," Emma explained. "She's trapped there."

"Good riddance," David commented. "No one around here is going to miss her, but hang on, you said that Rumple and Blue were working together on this? I thought he hated fairies."

"It seems that they both hated one particular fairy enough to put their differences aside for once."

"So, the Blue Fairy just showed up?" Snow questioned, trying to figure out what role Blue played in Emma's victory.

"I guess she sort of showed up, although it was after I'd sent Fiona packing," Emma began, trying to determine the best way to explain. "She was somehow inside the sword that Rumple gave me to use against Fiona."

"It was the sword from your visions, wasn't it?" Henry asked her.

"It was. According to Blue, Fiona was manipulating those visions, but she also said that I was always destined to use that sword in battle against the Black Fairy. This Savior stuff is ridiculous sometimes, but I know now that all of the tremors and the visions were Fiona's attempts to weaken me and it damn near worked." Emma flopped onto the sofa next to her mother with an exasperated sigh before adding: "Well, it might still work…"

"What did the Blue Fairy being in the sword do to help you?" Snow wondered, still confused about what had actually transpired. "I guess I'm not understanding what she actually did or even how she got into the sword in the first place."

"I don't completely understand it all either," Emma admitted. "All I know is somehow Rumple put her, or her magic, I really don't know, into the sword so that our combined strengths could beat Fiona and send her away to her own personal hell. I had no idea Blue was even there until she materialized out of the blade when I tried to pick it up again after the battle was over."

"She wasn't able to help stop the curse though?" Henry asked but while Emma knew what he meant by the question, but she wasn't sure the answer would satisfy him – or anyone else for that matter.

"I'm afraid not, kid," she told her son. "There isn't enough magic left in Storybrooke to heal Killian and as you've probably already figured out, breaking the curse unfortunately lies with Killian. Blue took what little magic we had left and tried to use it to keep Killian's heart beating, at least for now. The town and all of us are still here so he's still hanging on, but that storm hasn't gone away either."

"As long as we're all still here, there's still hope," Snow stated, trying to lift everyone's spirits with a beaming smile, but she wasn't even totally convinced it would be enough.

"Well, that deluge outside isn't going to let up until Hook is guaranteed to survive, so we may have a long night ahead of us," Regina stated. "We can't rely on the town's power grid so we're going to have to make sure the hospital's generators keep running."

"I'll take the cruiser out and make a loop through town and see if I can get some help rounding up supplies," David offered. "And then I'll swing over and relieve the sitter. I don't think any of us is going to get much sleep tonight so we might as well bring the little guy over here with us."

"I'll check with Benny over at the power plant and see if he can divert power to this area of town," Regina said as she retrieved her cell phone from her blazer pocket. "Everyone in town needs to be aware that the hospital has priority for power tonight. If they don't like it, explain the alternative."

With the skies already pitch black from the encroaching dark clouds looming overhead, it was nearly impossible to tell when day became night. With little to do in the waiting room, Snow had dozed off with the baby snuggled against her chest and David's protective arm draped around them both. Regina had found a magazine that was a few weeks old and switched seats to be closer to one of the spotlights so she could waste time reading and Henry was trying his best to remain distracted by watching a movie on his phone (after borrowing David's portable charger so his battery wouldn't fizzle out).

Emma had taken to silently pacing along the back wall, her mind arduously replaying every horrific act she'd committed and every hurtful word she'd uttered today. She'd been cursed – that much she understood. She would never have said or done those terrible things had she not been cursed but yet in one of those nagging back corners of her brain, she harbored enough lingering doubt to keep second-guessing herself. What if Fiona's curse had really just brought some of her true feelings to the surface instead of implanted false memories and emotions? What if that awful person really existed somewhere within her psyche? Would she run the risk of hurting her family again one day without realizing it?

It was a fear that Emma didn't dare speak of even though rationally, she knew her parents had similar regrets of their cursed selves. She didn't really know what else to do – torture herself with futile attempts to find the right words to apologize to her husband? Would he even want to still be her husband when this was all through? He'd have every right to push her away if he chose to and as much as it would break her heart, she probably deserved it.

Thankfully, the sound of approaching footsteps would delay those thoughts for a while. Regina was the first to notice the faint echoes in the corridor after the extended silence, but as the sound drew closer, they all snapped to attention, hoping that this would be the good news they'd been anxiously awaiting. David gently nudged his slumbering wife to wake her as Dr. Whale lumbered into the room, still clad in his pale blue surgical scrubs, although he'd already shed the outer protective gown. Before uttering a word, the doctor yanked the matching blue cap off of his head, shoving it into his pocket as he focused his attention on a nearly quivering Emma.

"I'm going to keep this brief because it's been a long night, and I'm not even going to attempt to speculate on where all of those wounds came from. I've got him patched up as best as I can for now. My primary focus was getting that bullet out of his chest and repairing the damage it caused. It tore a hole through his right lung that couldn't entirely be fixed, but he can survive without the piece I had to remove. Honestly, even without that section, his lungs are probably still in better shape than his liver after a couple of centuries of heavy rum swigging, but I shouldn't digress…

"His impaired right lung did collapse from the trauma but it will re-inflate in time. To be safe and to give that lung some help in healing, I'm going to keep him on a ventilator for the next 24 to 48 hours so don't expect him to be awake and talking anytime soon. He's stable for now, but these next couple of days are going to be critical. He coded on the operating table and with these damned power fluctuations, we nearly lost him. I'm not taking any chances.

"In regard to his other injuries, I couldn't do much with all of those lacerations on his back aside from cleaning them up a bit and getting him started on a strong antibiotic to try to clear the infection. Most had already scabbed over so he'll have some nasty new scars to add to his already extensive collection. Lastly, I repaired the most threatening damage from the puncture wound to his left shoulder, but it will likely require additional surgery down the line to remove some bone shards and properly repair the tendon and ligament tears. For now, I've immobilized the arm to prevent further injury to the joint. It's not something I'm going to worry for at least a few days though. Saving his life was far more important."

"You have no idea," Regina muttered under her breath as she glanced over at a visibly shaken Emma who appeared as though she might vomit at any moment. "Thank you for the update, Victor," Regina said aloud after figuring that Emma wasn't ready to speak just yet.

"Will we be able to see him soon?" David asked.

"In a little while," the doctor replied. "I'll send a nurse to get you once he's out of recovery and settled into a room. Let's just all hope that the power holds out so the life-support systems don't fail before he's strong enough for us to wean him off of them."

"That's already been addressed. All of Storybrooke's auxiliary power is being diverted to this quadrant and we've secured additional fuel for the generators," Regina assured him. "It should be enough to keep everything operational for at least another full day if needed. If all goes well, this storm should pass by then."

"Alright, that's good to know," Whale responded with a satisfied nod. "Right now, I'm going to try to get in a little power nap before I collapse, but rest assured that two of Storybrooke's finest nurses are tending to Jones as we speak and know to page me immediately should there be any change. One last thing, when I do give the okay for visitors, no more than two at a time. Emma, as his wife, you're welcome to stay the night, but the rest of you, go home and get some sleep. You all look like a bunch of zombies."

"Thanks, Victor," Emma squeaked out as the doctor turned around and left. Regina wanted to make a snide reply to Whale's zombie remark, but she held her tongue. There was enough tension in the room already and it wasn't going to break with a single wisecrack so Regina knew it was best to settle in for a very long night.

#ouat ff #cs ff #killian jones ff #killian whump #curse of undoings

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