#I want to agree but the mean voice in *my* head belongs to an idealized and far more accomplished version of myself | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

clusterbuck · 3 years

Note

how about 4 from the prompts list? "I'm here, aren't I?"

okay fun fact when i sat down to fill this prompt and turned my spotify on shuffle the first song to come up was i'm here by sweet talk radio so like... that's appropriate lmao

thanks for the prompt!!

"i'm here, aren't i?" buck mutters under his breath. "stop looking at me like that! it's rush hour on a friday, i did the best i could with the traffic conditions i had."

"i know, i know," eddie whispers next to him. "i'm not mad at, you, i just—" he cuts himself off and sighs. "i was going to talk to you about something before we went in."

"why am i here, anyway?" buck asks, looking around at all of the parents and teachers milling around the foyer of christopher's school. "i mean, you know i don't mind, but you made it sound really—"

he's interrupted by the sound of a woman's voice, somewhere on eddie's other side. "mr diaz, there you are! and this must be the husband."

buck whirls to look at eddie, because—if eddie has a husband, this is the first he's hearing of it.

please, eddie's expression seems to say, desperate and cornered and a little hopeful. and buck's never been able to deny him anything.

he's always been quick on the uptake, and even if he wasn't, eddie's arm sliding around his waist would probably make the pieces slip into place. so he schools his features into his best approximation of what a husband probably looks like and turns to face the woman next to eddie.

she's bright and bubbly, the platonic ideal of a suburban california soccer mom. she holds out a hand, and buck grins as he shakes it. "that's me," he confirms.

"and are you mr diaz as well?" she asks, and buck breathes an internal sigh of relief when she doesn't add anything along the lines of i don't really know how it works with you people.

"buckley, actually," he tells her. "buck." then he drops his voice and leans in like he's sharing a secret. "makes it easier at work, you know, so our captain knows who he's talking to."

she laughs, and eddie squeezes his hip. "i've heard a lot about you," she says with a smile. then she inclines her head at eddie. "he won't shut up about you, actually."

buck grins. "is that so?" he asks, turning to look at eddie.

eddie rolls his eyes. "i talk about you a normal amount," he says. "don't go getting an ego about this."

the woman introduces herself as somebody's mother. next to him, eddie falls into an easy conversation about math homework and the upcoming science fair, but buck is only half-listening. he's mostly preoccupied by the fact that eddie, apparently, goes around telling people that they're married. which is definitely news to him.

he's also more than a little preoccupied by the warm weight of eddie's arm resting around his waist, and the casual way eddie's hand curls around his hip like it belongs there. before he can think better of it, buck leans further into eddie's embrace, and eddie adjusts his grip mid-sentence like this is something they do every day and not something out of buck's wildest daydreams.

eventually, the woman excuses herself to go and find some teacher or the other.

"husband, huh?" buck asks. "that's funny, i don't remember you proposing. or, you know, asking me out."

as he speaks, eddie detaches himself from buck. when buck turns to look, eddie is already wearing a guilty expression.

eddie sighs. "i was going to tell you," he says. "that's what i wanted to talk to you about before we came in."

"i mean, yeah, knowing ahead of time that i'm supposed to be acting like your husband would have made life a little easier," buck says. "also, uh, why am i supposed to be acting like your husband, again?"

eddie looks away, squirrely in the way buck knows he only gets when he's embarrassed. "there was a teacher a while back," he says. "she kept, uh, hitting on me? so i panicked and said i was married."

"okay, so, why me?" buck asks, and wonders if eddie can hear the unspoken question. why are you pretending to be married to a man? eddie's never given any indication that he's anything other than straight. it's the biggest reason buck has him firmly mentally labelled as never going to happen, buckley, you might as well stop dreaming about it.

it hasn't worked so far, but repetition is key.

"i guess christopher talks about you a lot," eddie says. "she asked if it was you, and it seemed easier to say yes than to invent some kind of fictional spouse that i'd have to remember details about."

"romantic," buck says, and eddie laughs and elbows him.

"shut up."

"so why didn't you just tell me?" buck asks.

"i was going to, if you'd been here when you said you would!"

"hey, it's not my fault the 146 didn't manage their pile-up scene properly and traffic backed up!" buck says. "besides, you could also have told me at any other point in time between now and—how long have you been telling people this?"

"uh... six months, give or take," eddie says. "that's why it was so important you come tonight—i've been making excuses for you at school events, but the other parents have started to question it and i don't want them thinking my imaginary husband is a shitty person."

"clearly you have better taste than that," buck agrees.

eddie sighs again, but it's good-natured. "god, i should have known you'd be insufferable about this."

"and yet you picked me anyway," buck beams. "so why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"i was worried you'd think it's weird," eddie says. "and i really needed you to be here."

"mm, being addressed as your husband out of the blue was definitely less weird," buck says.

"so it didn't go exactly to plan," eddie says. "thanks for just rolling with it, by the way."

"of course," buck says. "i've got your back, remember?"

"somehow, i don't think this is what either of us envisioned back in that hospital parking lot," eddie laughs.

and it's true—buck had envisioned doing a lot of things with eddie, back in those first few days before he'd realised he didn't have a chance, but fake marriage was never one of them.

"so is there anything specific you need me to do?" buck asks, in an effort to distract himself from thoughts of the things he did envision.

"just—sell it, i guess?" eddie says. "i'm pretty sure i've only told people things about you that are true anyway, so there's no elaborate cover story or anything."

"except that we're married," buck says.

"except that we're married," eddie agrees. "for—about a year now, i think i've said?"

"a year, okay," buck repeats. "cool, i'm on it." then he steps closer to eddie again and slips his hand into eddie's back pocket.

"buck," eddie hisses. "what are you doing?"

"selling it," buck replies.

"where? in high school in the year 1987?" eddie asks, but he relaxes into buck's side.

"hey, no judging," buck says. "maybe this is my signature move."

"i mean, you do you," eddie says. buck doesn't argue, because he doesn't want to have to tell eddie that he's mostly doing it because this might be the only opportunity he ever gets to touch eddie's ass.

it's only as they set off to meet with the first of christopher's teachers that buck realises he might have miscalculated. because now his hand is on eddie's ass, and he's suddenly hyperaware of even the smallest twitch of his fingers. how much of it can eddie feel? is eddie going to think he's trying to make a move if he accidentally flexes his fingers a little?

it's not that he doesn't want to make a move. it's just that he doesn't think that eddie would be very receptive to it.

except eddie turns out to be a very affectionate fake husband. if buck's hand isn't in eddie's pocket then eddie is holding it. when they sit side-by-side listening to teachers talk about how smart christopher is, eddie's foot is hooked around buck's ankle. in the hallway between meetings, eddie turns to drop a kiss on buck's cheek, and a shiver radiates through him.

buck doesn't know what to make of it. he's used to a certain amount of physical contact from eddie—shoulders brushing together as they walk next to each other, working together so seamlessly their limbs might as well be extensions of each other on calls—but this feels different. it's not just that the touches are different—there's an ease to eddie's actions that makes buck wonder for the first time in years if maybe his mental label for eddie isn't quite as accurate after all.

he doesn't know how else to explain the fact that eddie keeps touching him. it's more than enough to sell their ruse—bordering on excessive, even, especially for a middle school parent-teacher conference.

and buck isn't exactly innocent himself, either. he wonders if a year into a fictional marriage is too far to claim honeymoon period, because that's the closest he can come to describing the feeling—like now that he has permission to touch eddie, the dam has broken and he can't keep his hands off.

they're still holding hands when they spill out of the school doors and into the dark warmth of the september evening. eddie makes no move to let go, and so neither does buck.

buck's jeep is clear across the other side of the parking lot, but he follows eddie to his truck anyway. they reach the car, and eddie brushes his lips against the corner of buck's mouth, closer than he has all night. buck freezes.

eddie pulls back, horror clear across his face. "i'm sorry," he says. "i didn't—i just—i forgot. that we're not inside anymore."

there's just enough wistfulness in his voice that buck makes a split-second decision. he takes a step forwards and takes eddie's face in his hands, stands still for two heartbeats just in case he's reading everything extremely wrong and eddie wants to protest, and then he's kissing eddie.

eddie kisses the way he does everything else, with a steadiness that keeps buck tethered to reality and a quiet intensity that bubbles just under the surface. it's a combination that's uniquely eddie, one that makes buck feel like he could take on the world and win and like he's coming home.

"i don't want it to be just inside," buck says, just in case eddie didn't get the message. "i don't want it to be fake. i mean, it might be a little soon to get married, but—"

"someday, though," eddie says, and buck laughs.

"someday, yeah."

eddie grins at him. "in the meantime, do you want to come home with me tonight?"

"yeah, i really do."

send me a starter line from this list and i'll write a ficlet for it!

#i am so tired i hope this makes sense lmao #buddie #911fic #ask emma #emma writes #becominglionhearted #lol i was literally just saying the other day that i tend to default to eddie pov and here's my second buck pov in a row #oh well

259 notes · View notes

cloudenthusiast2 · 3 years

Text

To be a human - Scaramouche x reader - Part 3

You knew committing to a relationship with Scaramouche would be no easy task but you loved him dearly and unlike others, you believed he wasn't evil. But as a mortal and the devoted protector of your village you were too much of a good person, too much of a human compared to him and your differences slowly start to show.

Previous: Part 2 Next: Part 4

Length: ~1000 words (??)

Trigger warnings: yelling, Scara being an asshole (so nothing new)

You stormed into your own house and threw your polearm far away from you. It landed on the other side of the room, loudly clattering on the ground.

You could hear Scaramouche's steps behind you but before he could've caught up to you, you flounced to the kitchen.

All you wanted to do is shut the door behind you but even then, something held you back from doing it. The great sense of justice in you didn't let you separate yourself from your lover.

It wanted to hear an explanation.

How actually desperate you were for one! Even though you were absolutely furious, you still really hoped he could clean himself in your eyes with some words. Yes, it would only take some words, one sentence or a half and...

'You runned of like a spoilt child.'

You bit your lips to lock them and keep yourself from screaming and yelling at him.

What were you even hoping for? It's Scaramouche, he obviously won't realise he hurt you.

With slow movements, you turned around to face him. You looked into his icy eyes and when you spoke, your voice was just as cold as his gaze.

'Dare to explain what happened?'

'Are you stupid? You saw it with your own eyes.'

'I meant your reaction' you hissed in fury.

His answer was to simply shrug his shoulders.

'I sent them away. You should be grateful I did that before you could've made the situation worse.'

'Say, Balladeer' you narrowed your eyes. 'What would you have done if it was the other way? If my people attacked yours?'

He didn't even hesitate.

'Kill them' he claimed in a way that said the answer should've been obvious for you.

You tried to remain calm as you asked him:

'And you don't see a problem here?'

He has been standing in the kitchen's door but now he walked inside, closer to you. His movements seemed kind of threatening but you didn't move back an inch.

You always turned a blind eye to the truth about him. It was time to face it.

He stopped a feet away from you. He didn't come closer to try and reassure you, he did it to make sure you heard everything he said well.

'Shall I be the one to break it to you?' He asked mockingly, his grin showing pity and despite at the same time. 'I think it's time you finally realise. That these people's lives mean nothing.'

'You can't actually mean that' you declared immediately.

Scaramouche laughed and his voice sent shivers down your spine - instead of making you smile like it used to do.

'You're so naive, it kills me! My dear, I knew you were attached to these people but I had no idea you actually take this thing so seriously.'

'What the hell are you talking about?'

Your harsh, freezing cold tone wiped the smile off his face.

He rose his hands and tilted his hat back a little to take a good look at your face. The previous, icy look took over his expression once again as he spoke.

'These weak mortals are nothing but dust coming from dust.' He said bluntly and you knew he meant every single word that came out of his mouth. 'Their lives hold no meaning. They born, reproduce then die in a spam of some years. Disposable garbage.'

'So' your voice shook as you tried to speak after a long silence. 'This is... what I am to you? Replaceable, disposable garbage?'

'What?' You had every right to be shocked but now he seemed surprised as well. He shook his head, the bells on his clothing violently clinking. 'No, of course not. You're obviously different.'

'Why?'

Scaramouche blenched at this simple question and quietly stared for a minute.

You were deeply shook. So many emotions were fighting inside you but all you felt at that moment was deep, incredible sadness. You gulped to hold back your tears and repeated the question.

'Why... would I be any different?'

'Well... because you belong to me' he finally answered.

'Scaramouche, you're delusional!' You bursted out.

You started laughing. Because you couldn't believe you actually thought he was a good person. Because you were hysterical and made a stupid pun since he literally had a delusion himself.

'I'm only saying the truth!' He barked irately.

'You're lying!' You snapped so loudly that he unintentionally took a step back.

Scaramouche has never seen you like this. So mad. So done. You were patient with everyone and never raised your voice at him or anyone else.

'You're lying!' There was so much power and anger in your shout that it actually took his voice away. 'Mortals aren't insignificant just because beings exist that are more powerful than them! Not a single human's life is worthless! They have hopes and ambitions, they have the ability to change the world around them, just like you do! They feel, just like you... should do.'

You glared at him in fury, fervid fire burning in your eyes. You let go of the chair you have been holding onto and stepped closer to him.

He stood there without moving an inch, even when you put your face close so to his, he could feel your warm breath on his skin.

'I don't know what happened' you whispered quietly. 'But something is clearly wrong with you. Just what happened in Inazuma?'

'I have no idea what you're talking about.' Scaramouche finally moved. He grabbed your arm and pushed you further away from himself.

He thought that way he'd finally be able to breath freely but the weight on his chest didn't weigh less, even like this. It should've been a warning sign but the growing annoyance and anger inside his heart completely blinded him.

'I always felt like this' he stated, not caring about the impact his words caused. 'You knew it, don't try to deny the truth! And you know that I'm right! Face it!'

'You're not!' You screamed back at him. 'I will rather die before I agree anything you said!'

'Oh, you are going to die indeed if you keep believing in those ridiculous views of yours, don't worry.'

The exact moment these words left Scaramouche's lips, he deeply regretted saying them.

His heartbeat dropped as he saw your eyes widen.

There was a short silence.

Then you spoke.

'Get out' you whispered, your voice dying away. 'Get out of... my house.'

He looked at you once again. Opened his mouth then closed it.

You looked... broken. And he knew that he wouldn't be able to just replace the pieces that fell out because of him.

But the freezing cold that surrounded his heart suddenly started to melt away as his dismay slowly turned into anger.

Why should he feel bad again? It was you in the first place who had ridiculous views, it was you who got sensitive when all he did was to just tell you the truth! You were in the wrong here, not him!

'Leave' you repeated in a shaking but determined voice.

'Gladly' he nodded and the corners of his mouth curved up into a mocking, sarky smile. 'You're doing nothing but a burden holding me back anyway.'

'I said, leave!' You rose your voice one more time, trying your hardest not to cry in front of him. 'And don't ever come back again!'

Scaramouche laughed as he turned his back on you.

'Don't worry, I don't intend to. But don't say I didn't warn you!' He added as he waved goodbye. He stopped at the door for a moment and looked back at you one last time. 'One day you'll come to your senses and all of your ideals will be shattered. Looking forward to it.'

Your tears blurred your vision as you watched him walk out on the door he not so long ago stepped in as your lover.

And now that you were completely alone...

You could break down.

#cloudenthusiast #genshin #genshin impact #scaramouche genshin #scaramouche angst #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche #genshin x reader #genshin angst

228 notes · View notes

dreamwritesimagines · 3 years

Text

Burn The Witch 1 - Decoy [Bucky Barnes x Reader]

A.N: Here we go my loves, the first chapter! ❤ I hope you like it, and please let me know what you think! ❤ Thank you! ❤❤❤

As always, I don’t own anything.

Word Count: 2200

Warnings: Mentions of blood, violence, death, manipulation, language.

Summary: Trouble has a way of following certain people.

Sometimes you wondered whether you would run away screaming when you were a child if you knew what kind of a person you would turn into.

It wasn’t exactly your fault though. For years and years, several people had put the blame on several different things. Eventually they would reach the same conclusion though; the psychiatrists, your superiors, the very few people you could call your family, they all agreed on one thing.

It wasn’t you, it was the abandonment.

The abandonment you went through when you were a teenager had somehow started this domino, and there was nothing anyone could do to stop this constant fall, not even you.

But as you would figure out soon, you were lucky. Instead of being consumed by your anger, you could direct it somewhere else. You were recruited and trained from a very young age, and somewhere along the way, you realized that if you wanted to survive you were going to have to sacrifice certain things.

Forgiveness was the first one to disappear. Guilt was another.

Then fear.

Then, love.

Ah well. Worse things happen in the world every day.

If anything it made your job easier.

You cracked your neck and opened the door to your apartment, the key sticking to your fingers because of the blood on your hands for a moment and you made a face as you shut the door, leaning back.

A very long shower and a bottle of wine sounded like a good idea.

You placed your gun on the table, took the dagger strapped to your thigh out of its holster and got the knives out of the heels of your shoes before flinging yourself onto your couch and turning the TV on.

“Also called Sokovia Accords 2.0 by the critics—“

“What the superheroes think about this remains a mystery—“

“The first time caused a huge rift between Captain America and Iron Man but nobody knows the new Captain America Sam Wilson’s comment on it—“

You didn’t get to change the channel again when your phone started vibrating in your pocket, making you sit up straight. You muted the TV, and checked the caller I.D before you answered.

“Hey there.”

“Hi, how’s Paris?” the cheerful voice of your best friend reached you, “Had enough croissants yet?”

A small smile pulled at your lips. After your only parental figure had left you to go God knew where, General had decided to adopt you and raise you like a daughter. His actual daughter Chloe had welcomed you with open arms, and you had been best friends since then.

Her being the top analyst of the division didn’t hurt either.

“Mm hm, because that’s all I’m doing. Eating croissants, visiting museums—”

“Killing and maiming targets...” she mused, finishing your sentence for you and you heaved a sigh.

“Somehow that last one isn’t included in the city guide,” you pointed out. “Chloe, you know this is a line for—“

“Official contact from General, yeah yeah,” she said, “In my defense, you didn’t pick up the phone an hour ago when I called you from my phone.”

“Do you know how hard it is to use touch screen when your hands are covered in blood?”

“What happened to your sniper rifle, did it fall into Seine?”

“It required close combat,” you said, “And the target swallowed the chip before I could get it, so I had to perform a spontaneous autopsy.”

“Just so you know, whenever you talk about your job I have to watch like a hundred cute videos after I hang up.”

“Happens.” you said, “How’s everything?”

“You missed us already?”

You grinned, “Maybe.”

“Good, because dad wants you back. He’ll contact you any day now.”

Your head snapped up and you stood up from the couch, “Really?”

“Duh. Have you seen how negotiations for these new Accords are going? It’s going to be a mess and we need you here.”

“The second one hasn’t passed officially.”

“Well no, but you know how my father thinks.” she said and you tilted your head.

“Are we sure it’s General who wants me there and not you?”

“Okay, that was one prank ages ago and I didn’t hear the end of it!” she protested, “Don’t you trust me at all?”

“Nope.”

“You know, I’m being the perfect friend and calling you to give you some good news but if you’re going to be like this, my news can wait until you get here.”

You pulled your brows together, “What news?”

“What do I get in return?”

“My endless gratitude,” you deadpanned, “Come on. What news?”

“You can’t tell anyone yet but I think you’re getting a promotion.”

Your breath got caught in your throat, “You’re joking.”

“Don’t forget about me when you become a handler, you hear me?” She let out a laugh, I need friends in high places.”

“Your dad runs the division Chloe. It doesn’t get any higher than that.”

“That doesn’t count!”

You pressed a hand over your chest, “Just— what kind of a promotion are we talking about?”

“I mean I snooped around his files and casually committed treason.” she said, “But even I don’t know yet. They must be still making the adjustments.”

You opened your mouth to reply but then your phone vibrated again and you lowered it to check the message on the screen.

It was simple but again, all his texts were simple and to the point.

From: General

Time to come back. Jet leaves in 2 hours.

Here goes my shower and wine night.

“Chloe?” you said, walking to the sink to wash your hands so that you could start packing, “You want anything from here? I’m coming home.”

***

The best thing about being on the move all the time was that you could pack in minutes and the division would take care of the things you had left behind.

Apartments, belongings-

Not that you carried any belongings with you, or bought any more than necessary. It would’ve made you form a bond, which was less than ideal for any spy.

You suppressed the yawn splitting your face and made your way to General’s office. This jet-lag was going to make your life pretty difficult in the following 24 hours, and you were painfully aware of it, but it wasn’t like you could just ask for some time to rest.

That could wait. Your job was more important.

“General?” you knocked on the half open door and he raised his head to look at you before motioning you to enter the room.

“Y/N,” he said, “Close the door please. It’s good to have you back.”

“Thank you sir.”

“Take a seat,” he said and you cleared your throat, then perched on the edge of the chair.

“I’ve heard you eliminated the threat and got rid of our target quite fast,” he said, “And we have the chip now.”

You nodded silently, pushing your hair behind your ear.

“Well, that shows me you’re ready for the next step,” he said “No reason to beat around the bush, you’re getting a promotion.”

Pride burst through your system but you tried to control your expression to stop the grin threatening to pull at your lips.

“Thank you sir.”

“Here are the details for your next mission,” he said, handing you a file that was stamped as Top Secret and you flipped the page to find information about your next identity.

Alias: Shrike

“Shrike,” you murmured to yourself, turning the pages, “Like the bird?”

“Mm hm. I assume you’ve heard about the Accords issue?”

You looked up, “Only a little,” you said, “The first one was a disaster and the government had to drop it after The Blip due to the public’s reaction, resurrected people insisted that the superheroes were the ones who saved them, not the government. Then the government said they would go over the details and change it in a way that would benefit both the public and the superheroes, but I haven’t seen the new version.”

“There were some adjustments but to be honest with you, it’s the same deal. We can’t have superheroes running wild with no orders,” he said, “I need you on both fronts, one with terminating specific targets, and one with….well, you’ll see.”

You flipped the page and blinked a couple of times, your stomach dropping.

You were good, but you weren’t that good.

“You- you’re sending me after Captain America, sir?”

“Ah no,” he said, “Don’t worry. Wilson doesn’t have a past we can use against him, and trust me, we checked. The guy is an actual hero but we need a bad guy.”

You turned the page and shut your eyes for a moment.

Bucky Barnes.

Right. You should’ve known.

The government wanted and needed Captain America on their side, but Bucky Barnes could fall for all they cared.

“Sir I appreciate your trust in my abilities but not even an army could take down the Winter Soldier the last time—” you started but General shook his head.

“Y/N, you’re not going to kill him,” he said, “That’s the second front I was talking about. We need you to get close to him, to form a personal bond and gather intel we can use in the future.”

You gawked at him, “I’m sorry?”

“Barnes is the perfect candidate. He can help us with necessary information to prove to the public that superheroes need to answer to someone; us. Besides if it all goes bad, we can just say he was a threat. With that kind of past no one would think he was innocent to begin with.”

Your head was spinning. Scratch that, the whole room was spinning.

You were good at finding and terminating targets, not forming personal bonds or playing this

“When you say get close to him….” You trailed off, your voice way too weak and he smiled slightly.

“You’re an attractive woman, I’m sure you’ll have no problem with that.”

That. That was your promotion.

Not an operations officer, not a handler, but a lover who also happened to kill people.

They were going to use you as a honey trap for him.

“Sir, I don’t think-“ you started, but he held up a hand.

“Before you say no,” he said, “Let me remind you that this will benefit your career greatly, and you will have your own team. Show us you can handle it, and the position you want will be within your reach, you have my word. You want to be a handler, don’t you?”

You dragged your fingernails on the file, deep in thought.

“Barnes is one of the many dangerous people we may need to stop one day, and the only way to do it is to keep him under control and learn everything he knows until we’re ready to take him in.”

“But if these new Accords don’t pass—“ you started but he shook his head.

“Even if they don’t, and that’s a big if,” he said, “He’s still a valuable asset to have. We all have to perform certain missions, Y/N. Even if we don’t particularly like them. You will thank me in the future, when your career flourishes.”

Your blinked a couple of times, a bitterness appearing in your mouth.

“Of course,” you managed to say, “You’re— you’re right sir. It’s a good plan. I accept the position.”

“Great!” he clapped his hands together, “We have a target for you for tomorrow night, there’s this gallery opening. He needs to be eliminated, I think you can handle that? Start planning how it will go with Barnes as well, we can’t lose any time.”

You pursed your lips together and closed the file, “Of course.”

“Congratulations.” he leaned in slightly, “Your dad would be so proud of you if he could see you now.”

You tried to swallow the lump in your throat, but it felt like it was getting bigger and bigger.

“I don’t need his approval,” you rasped out and walked to the door, but stopped when you heard him speak.

“Shrike,” he used your alias for the first time and you looked over your shoulder.

“Yes?”

“I don’t have to remind you that this mission is top secret. If he figures out who you are, or what you’re up to…” he clicked his tongue, “Kill him.”

You paused for a moment, then tilted your head and smiled at him.

“As you wish, sir.” you managed to say, then walked out of his office as if someone was chasing you. You made your way straight to the bathroom and slammed the file on the marble counter, then pulled out the small picture sticking out from the corner. It was an old black and white picture of him with Steve Rogers, probably taken in the 40s, both of them smiling.

When you lowered the picture to attach it back to the paper, your eyes caught the tiny print under his aliases.

Confirmed Kills: Exact number unknown (Credited with 100+ assassinations)

You were in way, way over your head now.

“Oh, fuck.”

Chapter 2

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes imagine #the falcon and the winter soldier #falcon and the winter soldier #tfatws #the winter soldier #marvel #marvel imagine #marvel imagines #the winter soldier x reader #the winter soldier imagine #burn the witch

959 notes · View notes

robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Note

Wei Wuxian/Lan Xichen? Arranged marriage could be fun, but really any take you might have on them.

ao3

“Did you do something to irritate your uncle, too?” Wei Wuxian asked.

Lan Xichen finishes writing, then puts his brush down before looking back at the guest disciple from the Jiang sect. “I don’t think so,” he said. “Why do you ask?”

Wei Wuxian was lying on his back and tossing a rolled-up ball of paper up and down instead of copying the rules the way he was supposed to, but Lan Xichen didn’t scold him – the rules would be copied eventually, or they wouldn’t be. If Wei Wuxian wasn’t minded to do his work, would scolding help?

It'd only been a little while, but Lan Xichen felt that he already knew him well enough to know that it wouldn’t.

“I mean, copying rules was supposed to be my punishment,” Wei Wuxian said. “But you’re his prized student, the First Jade of Lan. Why are you stuck here supervising me?”

Lan Xichen smiled. “By all rights, the task should belong to my brother,” he explained. “He runs the discipline hall in normal times. But Wangji chose to remain in secluded cultivation rather than attend classes this season, so I have taken his place.”

Wei Wuxian pursed his lips, clearly thinking it over.

“It’s a pity,” Lan Xichen added. “I think he might have liked you.”

Rather, more accurately, he thought Wei Wuxian’s incessant teasing might have gotten under Lan Wangji’s skin – at times he feared that his brother, in his pursuit of cultivation, was growing too serious, too soon. It would do him well to spend time with those his own age, especially someone as light-hearted, witty, and clever as Wei Wuxian.

“Hey, Lan-gongzi.”

“Mm?”

Wei Wuxian had rolled over onto his stomach and was staring at Lan Xichen, who smiled helplessly back, expecting another prank. Instead, Wei Wuxian asked, “Is there really no one else in the Lan sect who can supervise punishments?”

“What,” Lan Xichen said, “am I not suitable to your eyes?”

“You’re too suitable! You’re the heir of the Lan sect, a perfect gentleman – how can you waste your time copying rules for your uncle’s lectures?”

Lan Xichen chuckled. “My uncle’s lectures are a treasure,” he said. “He teaches not only good conduct, but insight into the world and to the path each person must follow – do you know why they praise him to the skies as a teacher?”

Wei Wuxian blinked.

“He can help students apply the precepts handed down from our ancestors to their own lives, shaping them to match their own philosophies – it’s like encountering a treasure trove with a thousand gleaming gems, and if you only listen earnestly and whole-heartedly, you can claim one as your own. Putting aside exercising and improving your moral sense, the insights you will gain will tremendously speed your cultivation; in the end, you will be qualified to be a real gentleman by the cultivation world’s terms.”

“Why didn’t anyone say so?” Wei Wuxian demanded, sitting up straight. “I’ve been sitting here doing nothing –”

“If you want to waste your opportunity to obtain a beneficial education, there’s nothing anyone else can do about it.”

“You’re very frustrating, and very persuasive,” Wei Wuxian informed him, but he was already smiling. “I think I like you!”

“I’m honored.”

“All right, all right, so I’m convinced. How many more do I need to copy?”

He flicked his fingers and formed talismans: a half-dozen brushes rose up in unison, ready to paint.

Lan Xichen laughed in delight.

“His path is evil,” Lan Wangji said. His voice was level as always, unmoved even by the atrocities of the war; the people said that it was as if he had wholly left the world behind, and kept only righteousness in his heart – with no space for love or empathy.

Sometimes, Lan Xichen thought they might be right.

“His motivation is good,” he said tiredly. “Didn’t you spend time with him before? In the cave, with the Xuanwu…”

“We cooperated, and succeeded in escaping together,” Lan Wangji said coolly. “It is that experience that shows me what Wei Wuxian is capable of – and that his current path of cultivation is a matter of choice.”

Lan Xichen shook his head. “He’s fighting the Wen sect. Without him, we would be much worse off; that doesn’t seem to me to be evil.”

“Brother, I know you spent a long time looking for him alongside Sect Leader Jiang. Do not let that commitment, and your fondness for him, blind you to the truth. He could fight alongside us as a righteous cultivator, and he has instead turned to demonic cultivation. Are we to accept evil if the end results are good?”

“I do not believe he is evil,” Lan Xichen said, and then, shamefully, added, “That is my decision, Wangji. Are you questioning your sect leader?”

Lan Wangji raised his hands and saluted deeply, not even bothering to send Lan Xichen a look of judgment for playing that card. “You will need to decide what is more important,” he said. “In time.”

Lan Xichen knew that.

He shook his head a second time, this time to himself, for his foolishness. Lan Wangji was right: he would need to eventually decide between righteousness and victory, between the orthodoxy of the cultivation world and –

Love.

Unrequited love, no less.

Wei Wuxian’s fierce repulsion of Lan Xichen’s attempts to help had made that clear enough.

And yet…

He would go to look for Wei Wuxian, Lan Xichen decided, and laughed bitterly at his own foolishness. In an ideal world, he would invite him to come back to Gusu to refresh himself – to rest, to recuperate, to remember why the orthodox path was the right one. But harsh experience had shown him that the Cloud Recesses were not safe – that no one would be safe until the Wen sect was gone.

Even if it meant resorting to demonic cultivation.

Inviting Wei Wuxian back would have to wait. All Lan Xichen could do now was fight alongside him.

“You seem unhappy, Xichen,” Nie Mingjue said apropos of nothing, and Jin Guangyao looked up from where he was practicing playing the Song of Clarity, surprised. He looked even more surprised when Lan Xichen nodded, acknowledging the comment as truth.

“Are you really, er-ge?” he asked, putting aside his guqin. “Why didn’t you say?”

“You’ve met him,” Nie Mingjue said before Lan Xichen could respond. “Would he ever say?”

Jin Guangyao considered the point, then nodded.

Lan Xichen smiled. “You are both good friends,” he said. “I am blessed in my friends.”

“In your brothers,” Nie Mingjue said, and Lan Xichen couldn’t help but flinch. “Trouble with Wangji?”

“No, Wangji is perfect.” As always. “He merely reminds me of – an old disagreement of ours.”

“About what?” Jin Guangyao asked. “Is it something we could help with?”

Lan Xichen shook his head. “I don’t think anything could help.”

“Is this about Wei Wuxian?” Nie Mingjue asked, and this time it was Lan Xichen who turned to stare at him in surprise. “What?”

“You – know?”

“Know what?” Jin Guangyao asked, looking concerned and – well, a little irritated, in truth. Probably because Nie Mingjue had figured out something even he didn’t know, which wasn’t something that happened very often. “Er-ge, what is da-ge talking about?”

“Xichen has a crush on Wei Wuxian,” Nie Mingjue told Jin Guangyao, straightforward and blunt as always, and Lan Xichen put his head into his hands.

“How do you even know that?” he said, voice muffled through his palms. “We barely interacted during the Sunshot Campaign, you wouldn’t have even seen it…”

“Huaisang told me. He saw you during his time at the Cloud Recesses; he said you seemed very happy, then. And with Wei Wuxian now an exile from the cultivation world…”

“I just don’t understand why he did what he did,” Lan Xichen said. “He’s always been – I believe in him. He’s a good man. But he insists on continuing his demonic cultivation, he stole away the Wen sect and ran to Yiling…” He shook his head. “Perhaps my family is merely doomed to tragedy in love.”

He was trying to speak lightly, but for some reason that made both of his sworn brothers frown and look at each other, silent communication passing between them as if like lightning – and that was rare, too. The last time he’d seen that had been before Jin Guangyao had left for Langya.

“I don’t like the idea of er-ge being unhappy,” Jin Guangyao said abruptly. “Er-ge deserves the world. What’s one Wei Wuxian?”

“I agree,” Nie Mingjue said. “He might have been ejected from the Jiang sect, but that just makes him a rogue cultivator – and other than stealing the Wen sect remnants, he hasn’t done anything in nearly a year, hasn’t he? He just lives peacefully.”

“Growing radishes,” Lan Xichen put in, and shrugged when they looked at him. “I went to visit him…I thought someone should tell him about his shjie’s engagement.”

“You went to visit him,” Nie Mingjue said, as if that was significant. “In Yiling. I see.”

Jin Guangyao was nodding as if Nie Mingjue had said something profound.

It was a bit like the days before Langya, when Jin Guangyao was Nie Mingjue’s right hand man, his trusted deputy, and between them they planned out battle and aftermath alike, strategy and tactics.

Lan Xichen looked between the two of them and suddenly was struck with a bad feeling.

“No, wait,” he said. “You can’t – he doesn’t even like me!”

“Nonsense,” Jin Guangyao said. “Who doesn’t like our er-ge?”

“I’m incredibly sorry about this,” Lan Xichen said to Wei Wuxian, who looked dazed. “I didn’t think they’d go this far just because I liked you. You shouldn’t have to marry me to bring your Wen sect back into the world – in fact, I’m not going to allow it! I’ll fight for their ability to live freely without any such ridiculous conditions, I promise. Am I not a sect leader in my own right? I will –“

“Wait,” Wei Wuxian said. “You like me? As in –” He mimed cutting his sleeve. “Like me?”

“Yes, and you don’t like me in return, I know,” Lan Xichen said. “You should feel no obligation whatsoever. As I said, I will –”

“Doesn’t your brother want to kill me?”

It was quite possible Lan Wangji wanted to kill Wei Wuxian.

“I wouldn’t let him,” Lan Xichen said. That seemed more relevant.

“You don’t mind my demonic cultivation?”

“I mean, I prefer orthodoxy, of course, but it seems clear enough to me that your intentions are good. As long as you remain restrained and disciplined – and I know you have the capability to do so – then I don’t see why –”

“When are we getting married?” Wei Wuxian asked. “And can I invite Jiang Cheng, and shijie?”

“You misunderstand,” Lan Xichen said. “You don’t have to –“

He stopped speaking for a few moments.

A little later he cleared his throat and said, “Ah. I see.”

Wei Wuxian grinned at him.

#mdzs #lan xichen #wei wuxian #lan wangji #nie mingjue #jin guangyao #my fic #my fics

295 notes · View notes

dothwrites · 4 years

Text

15.20 coda--at the end of the world

author’s note: while i am still reeling from the finale, this was my way of making some kind of personal peace with it. don’t mistake this for me agreeing with the choices made <3

---

“I would know him in death, at the end of the world.”--Madeline Miller

---

Castiel opens his eyes.

All around him is green. A moment later, he hears the soft sound of birds chirping in the background; from further away, the faint sounds of children laughing. The air is ripe with the smell of growth, damp in the air and life underneath his fingers.

He sits up. The sky is a perfect shade of blue, the kind found only in poet’s and painters imaginations. A few feet away, the shrubs grow, flowers spilling over themselves in their enthusiasm to be born. Everything is a riot of life and color.

“Cas.”

Castiel’s heart thumps against his ribs. He knows that voice.

He whirls around, already knowing who he’ll find. Several feet away, Jack waits, one hand raised in a short wave.

Castiel finds himself up on his feet, and within two short steps, he’s enfolded Jack in his arms. For a moment, he forgets about everything which came before, and allows himself this sheer comfort. If nothing else remains, then Jack is here.

Jack hugs him back, twice as fiercely, before they separate. Castiel holds him at arm’s length, trying to find injuries or hurt on him, but there’s nothing. In fact, it’s almost as if...

“Jack,” he says slowly, his arm falling away from Jack’s shoulder, “what happened?”

Jack smiles, a little lopsided, but still his boy.

“Well,” he says, gesturing towards a bench, “It’s kind of a long story.

---

For all that Jack said it was a long story, it ends up being remarkably quick in the telling. Castiel listens, sometimes grieving and sometimes proud, as he hears of how Sam, Dean, and Jack ultimately defeated Chuck. His heart grows in his chest as Jack recounts Dean’s words.

That’s not who I am.

A small part of him wishes that he could be there to see it, but he tucks that part of himself away. He said his piece. He relieved the burden which has been pressing down on his shoulders now for years. In his lifetime, it was nothing more than a blip on the map, but those years have made all the difference in the world to him. Finally, he can look back on them now without regrets.

“And so, I came here,” Jack finally says, shifting a little on the bench. He looks oddly guilty, like the times Castiel would find him sneaking snacks back into his room. “I thought...”

“What?’ Castiel prompts, after a few moments when it becomes clear that Jack has no interest in speaking.

“Sam and Dean don’t really need me anymore. I mean, I know that they want me, but the world is bigger now. And the people up here need me too.”

It’s then that Castiel looks around, scrutinizing his environment more closely. The nagging sense of familiarity hits and then he wonders how he didn’t see it before. His favorite Heaven, caught in an eternal Tuesday afternoon.

“It’s not right,” Jack says, his forehead wrinkled into an earnest expression of worry. “The people here are stuck. While I was on earth, we all talked about free will, but the people here don’t have it. They’re stuck forever in an endless loop of memories, and it’s all just...empty.”

Jack looks at Castiel, and Castiel doesn’t see God. He doesn’t see a divine being, or Lucifer’s son, or even an angelic being. He just sees his boy, lost and confused, but still so pure, still wanting to do the right thing, no matter what.

“Cas?” Jack asks. “Will you help me?”

---

Rebuilding Heaven is slow work, but time doesn’t really mean anything here. It’s delicate to rebuild the walls separating billions of souls so that nothing collapses. Castiel works alongside Jack, making suggestions as his mind trips along to potential problems.

Though it’s never said aloud, Castiel knows why Jack is working tirelessly. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, the knowledge sits that Sam and Dean are going to die. One day, they will pass from the earth, and come to Heaven, and on that day, Castiel wants everything to be perfect for them. He wants to show them a true paradise, a place without walls or barriers, a place where emotion is genuine and not just a manufactured memory. Rebuilding Heaven is his last chore, the last of his penance to be performed.

He does make one stop, however.

When he walks in the door, Kelly’s head lifts up from the book she’s flipping through. Her smile is a balm to the hurt places inside him, the ones that he likes to pretend don’t exist, because he was happy, yes? That was the whole point of everything, was to be happy. “Hey, Cas,” she greets him, shifting over and patting the couch next to her. “I was wondering when you’d be by.”

“I’ve been busy,” Cas says, settling down on the cushions. In Heaven, his body is easier than it was on earth, more flexible, and he wonders if that’s because after all these years, he’s finally returned to where he was supposed to belong, or if it’s because he no longer has the shadow of his love pressing down on his shoulders.

“Jack told me. Rebuilding Heaven? Sounds ambitious.”

“The old Heaven was...not ideal,” Castiel says. “I thought it was at the beginning: each soul gets a paradise tailor made to them. But then, I realized that human life is meaningless without the connections we form along the way. Each soul, stuck forever in its own loop is...”

“It’s lonely,” Kelly says, reaching out and squeezing his hand. Castiel returns the gesture, grateful for the connection. Her eyes are kind as she moves closer to him, her shoulder pressing into his.

“So what happened?”

---

In their time together, Castiel never told Kelly about Dean, at least not explicitly. But she had a brilliant mind and was able to see the threads of his longing woven into everything he did. Relating the story to her comes easily, and he tells her things which he would never tell Jack.

“And I was happy,” Castiel says at the end. “I was.”

“You trying to convince me or yourself?”

“Neither,” Castiel replies, bristling slightly. It was true that he might have been happier--he had performed a willful obfuscation of the original terms--but that doesn’t negate what he felt in that moment. The sheer love, the overwhelming gratitude, the incandescent happiness of being able, one last time, to proclaim to the world Dean Winchester is Saved.

Everything else is unimportant when viewed through those lenses.

“Why haven’t you gone to see him?” Kelly was always good at cutting to the heart of the problem.

“Dean has his life on earth. I have my work here in Heaven. I don’t...” Because, of course, he’s asked himself the same question many times. Why doesn’t he go find Dean and tell him of one last, improbable miracle?

“Cas, let me tell you: I didn’t know Dean all that well, but I didn’t need to if I wanted to know how he felt about you. It was all over his face.” Kelly turns to face him, suddenly serious. “Cas, you should go to him. At least allow him to speak his side. If he doesn’t feel the same way, then you’ll know. And if he does...”

Castiel shakes his head. Happiness in the being is what he’s told himself ever since he awoke to find himself in Heaven. Happiness doesn’t come from the having. He will live with himself and find contentment in the works which he does.

Kelly looks sympathetic, but doesn’t say anything as he walks out.

There’s work to be done.

---

Castiel sighs with satisfaction as he walks through Heaven. Slowly, the walls are coming down. Souls are mingling and interacting. There’s joy in the once quiet halls, the giddiness which comes from freedom after too long without. He moves through the different realms, silent as a thought, and goes unnoticed, at least until a gruff voice catches his attention.

“What the hell are you doing here, boy?”

A wide grin splits Castiel’s face. Only Bobby Singer would think to call an angel ‘boy’. He walks towards the old hunter, who looks the same now as he did in life, and is surprised when Bobby sweeps him up in a hug which would threaten to crack his ribs, were he human.

“You did good,” Bobby whispers, his voice thick in Castiel’s ear. “I heard what you and that boy Jack did, and you did real good.”

It means more than he would have thought, to have Bobby’s approval. After a moment’s pause, he hugs Bobby back.

When Bobby pulls away, he quickly knuckles his eyes, before clearing his throat. “So, you fixed Heaven on top of everything else? What do you have planned next?”

Castiel’s shoulders lift in a shrug. “There’s always work to be done maintaining Heaven. We don’t know what, if any, effects the restructuring will bring, so I suppose I will be traveling and making sure that everything is stable.”

“If that ain’t a load of shit,” Bobby scoffs. “From what I’ve seen, your boy has enough power in his pinky finger to do just about whatever he wants. Stop making excuses and get your feathery ass back down there.”

Castiel swallows. “It’s not quite as simple as that. Sam and Dean have a chance to live their lives, the way that they would wish for them to be lived. It’s not fair of me to intrude.”

“Now, if that isn’t the biggest pile of horseshit I’ve ever heard.” Bobby’s mouth twists underneath his beard. “Only one thing keeping you from going back down to see those boys, and it sure as hell ain’t concern for Heaven or some BS notion that they’re better off without you.” Castiel opens his mouth, but Bobby speaks over him. “And don’t tell me that you’re just waiting either. Something I learned a long time ago--you never have as much time as you think you do.”

Castiel closes his mouth and says nothing.

---

Bobby is wrong.

There’s still time. He doesn’t have to go yet. There’s still work to be done in Heaven, souls to be guided, walls to be broken. Jack still needs him.

There’s still time.

There’s still time, until there isn’t.

---

Castiel feels it before he knows what’s happening. It’s a rift, a tear, something which ripples throughout the universe and comes to hit him in the chest. He staggers backward, hand clutching at his shirt.

His first thought is that Heaven is under attack, but a second’s observation tells him that’s not the case. Everything is fine. The fabric of Heaven remains secure, the souls are unbothered. It’s only him that feels the blow.

With a flutter of wings, Jack appears beside him. His face is a mask of distress, tears welling in his eyes. “Cas,” he cries, clenching his hands into fists at his side. “Cas, it’s--”

“Dean,” Castiel says, finally understanding the bolt of pain which ripped through him.

It was too soon. He doesn’t know how much time has passed on earth, but he knows it was too soon.

It’s always too soon.

“Cas, what do I... I can heal him. I can go and heal him now. I can save him. I can...” Jack trails off, his feet still pacing in desperate circles. “What do I do?”

It’s a child’s question, and Castiel has no answer.

“Free will,” is all he says. “Whatever you do...It’s your decision.”

---

Castiel feels when Dean Winchester’s soul enters Heaven. He held that soul within his grace, he snatched it away from the filth and flames of Hell. He cradled that soul while he was reassembling Dean’s body, pulling atoms out of air to create skin, flesh, and bone. He would know that soul at the end of everything, and he knows it here, when it settles into the place which was created for him.

It was as perfect as Castiel could make it; down to the Impala sitting in the Roadhouse’s parking lot. He created every inch of Dean’s Heaven in homage, in apology.

It wasn’t fair. Dean deserved to live to a ripe old age. He deserved to enjoy the world for which he fought so hard. He should have grown old, should have found peace, should have discovered the foibles and pitfalls of normal, human existence. Dean worked too hard, for too long, and he deserved a kinder, softer fate. Instead, he’s here, and all Castiel can do for him is to craft his Heaven with painstaking care.

He pauses on the boundaries of Dean’s Heaven. Every fiber of him yearns to go forward, to rejoice in Dean’s presence, to see that beloved face again. He wants it so badly he can almost taste it, leather and gasoline and whiskey mingling together until he’s back in the bunker, listening to the sounds of his family--

Castiel takes a step away from the border. First one, then another. After three steps, it becomes easier.

Dean has his paradise, and Castiel won’t interfere.

---

Heaven moves as it always does, timeless and changeless. There is no turn of the earth to mark the passage of time. Instead, it moves like the ocean, rolling waves which are always moving and yet the surface remains the same. Castiel travels through various Heavens, observing the newly liberated souls, and taking his peace from their newfound enjoyment. It eases something within him to see his former home restored, better than it ever was before.

He’s inspecting a field of sunflowers when the sound of a car door closing surprises him. Immediately, his heart lurches in his chest, dipping down to somewhere around his knees before hurtling upwards to lodge in his throat. He swallows before he turns around.

Dean Winchester is there.

Castiel’s heart, always out of his control, performs a quick dance against the confines of his ribs. Dean looks...He looks whole and wonderful, vibrant and alive. The lines around his eyes look as though they’ve been carved through laughter instead of despair. His shoulders sit easier, no longer pressed down with the burden of the entire world.

Castiel licks his lips. “Hello, Dean,” he finally says, when it becomes obvious that Dean has no intention of making the first move.

Dean’s lips quirk up in a grin. “Cas,” he says, not moving from where he’s leaning up against the frame of the Impala. “You’re a hard guy to track down.”

Layers upon layers of subtext are placed within the seemingly simple sentence. Castiel remembers Purgatory as well as anything else, the desperate year of keeping one step ahead of Leviathans while close enough to Dean to protect him if need be.

“I’m sorry,” Castiel says faintly. “I wasn’t aware anyone was looking.”

Dean’s face performs a series of interesting maneuvers, dropping and rising and twisting. It finally settles into an expression like stone as he pushes off the car and storms towards him. Castiel waits, caught up in breathless anticipation of the oncoming storm.

“Look,” Dean growls, reaching out and snagging the lapel of his coat, almost like he wants to ensure that Castiel doesn’t escape. Castiel doesn’t even dream of it; there’s no other place he’d rather be than caught in Dean’s grip. “There was a lot of shit going on at the time, so I didn’t get to say it then, but there’s nothing happening now, so you are going to sit here and listen, all right?”

Castiel nods, but Dean doesn’t seem to notice. “I can’t believe you didn’t...” He runs the hand which isn’t still wrapped up in Castiel’s coat over his face. “You idiot,” he finally breathes. “A couple of dumbasses. You’ve had me, Cas. All along, you’ve had me.”

Castiel looks up at Dean in sharp surprise. When he meets Dean’s eyes, there’s nothing but the infinite compassion which he fell in love with. “You... You’re this force of nature that came bursting into my life. All this time, you’ve always been there, always helping, and I took that for granted, I know I did. But, god, Cas, I should have told you every day how thankful I was to have you there with us. I should have let you know what a miracle you are. You never gave up on me, not once, not even when I deserved it.”

Castiel’s breath hitches in his chest as Dean lets go of his coat. Slowly, with a shaking hand, he reaches up to cup Castiel’s cheek. “You never stopped believing. You never stopped trying. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“Dean.” The name bursts out of Castiel’s chest in a harsh breath. Dean’s words are working their way underneath his skin, to the point where his body can’t contain them.

��Cas.” Dean gently angles his face up so that there’s no escape when he says, “I love you.”

“I’m sorry,” explodes from Castiel’s chest, the helplessness and grief he felt when he felt Dean’s soul leaving earth erupting in a single quick sob. “Dean, I’m so sorry, I should have been there, I should have done something, I never should have left you alone--”

“Cas.” Dean’s fingers press into his cheek, not hard, but firmly enough to get his attention. “It sucks, all right? There was so much I wanted...” The corner of his mouth drops. “I was going to get you out, and you, me, and Sam were going to head to the beach. I was going to get you drinking out of a coconut, maybe a Hawaiian shirt. We were going to do Christmas, I was going to take you to a theme park and see if you puked on roller coasters. I wanted...” For a moment, grief so overwhelming that it can’t be touched crosses Dean’s face, but then, with effort, he pushes it away. “There’s so much that I wanted, but it’s done now. And besides, you’ve been busy.” Dean raises his eyebrows. The grin on his face invites Cas to smile as well. “Reforming Heaven?”

“I wanted...There was so much I did wrong here. I thought if I could make it right, that maybe...” Castiel leans his cheek into Dean’s hand. “I wanted it to be perfect for you. You weren’t supposed to be here yet.”

“I know. I know. And it’s not okay, but you’re here, all right? Mom’s here, Bobby’s here, Charlie, and Jess, and Kevin, and Ellen and Jo...They’re all here, and thanks to you, I’m going to see them. You did that, Cas.”

“Jack did most of the work--” Castiel begins, but he’s cut off by the soft press of Dean’s lips against his.

Sparks burst in his chest as Dean’s hand slides around to the back of his neck to cradle his head. His other arm slides around his waist, and suddenly, Castiel is held by Dean Winchester, by this miracle of a man. Dean’s kisses consume him, until he’s no longer Castiel. Instead, he’s heat, and friction, and more.

“You and me,” Dean pants against his lips, pulling away just far enough to run his nose along Castiel’s. “We’ve got time now, Cas, we’ve got so much time. I’m going to take you apart, going to show you how much I love you, every single day. I’m going to show you everything.”

Castiel is drowning in the outpouring of Dean’s devotion. He’s helpless in the riptides. All he can do to save himself is kiss Dean again, tasting salt on their lips from where their tears trace down to their lips. Castiel cries partly for Dean’s missed opportunities and the fact that life is so cruel. But he also cries from happiness. Dean is right. Here, they have all the time they could ever want. There’s time to explore every feeling and desire, time for them to become themselves, without the pressure of the world around them.

They part. Somehow, Castiel’s hands have found their way onto Dean’s waist. One of his thumbs is braver than the rest of his whole body, as it sneaks underneath Dean’s shirt to touch bare skin. Dean grins at him.

“Hey, Cas,” he asks, pressing his forehead to Castiel’s. “Do you want to take a drive?”

Their fingers entwine as they walk towards the Impala. Castiel’s chest feels light, like Dean’s hand is the only thing keeping him tethered to the ground. “I’m still trying to figure out the roads here. It felt like I was driving around for forty years to try and find you.”

They settle into the Impala, where they’ve been so many times before, but now Castiel can enjoy every squeak of the leather seats. He can revel in the imperfections of the car because of the perfection that’s next to him. Dean Winchester reaches across the seat and takes his hand, as easy as breathing.

“I can’t wait to show Sam everything,” Dean says, as he guides the Impala back onto a road which Castiel is almost certain wasn’t there when he arrived. “I, uh...Hope it takes him a while to get here. But. Yeah, when he gets here, I can’t wait to show him everything.”

“We’ll see it all together,” Castiel finally says. It’s all he can say, his heart too busy dancing in his chest.

They have all the time they want.

---

Time slips and passes and stops. In between his time with Dean, Jack, and the rest of the residents of Heaven, and performing maintenance throughout Heaven, Castiel watches the earth. He sees those left behind grow older. Claire and Kaia start a family, Claire finally having set aside the kernel of anger in her heart. Castiel watches Sam and Eileen’s family grow, smiling when Sam finally goes back to law school and gets his degree. He spends the rest of his career fighting for justice for children lost in the system, those who can’t fight for themselves. Saving people, hunting things, indeed.

Several times, Castiel thinks about going to visit Sam, if only to assuage the grief he can still see the man carrying, but each time he stops. It hurts, but grief is a facet of life. This grief is natural. It comes honestly. It’s not manipulated by a sadistic higher being for a voyeristic pleasure.

Eileen comes out to the Impala and brings Sam back into the house with gentle touches. Throughout the years, she’s learned how to navigate Sam’s moods, and knows how to bring him back. They lay in bed, foreheads pressed together, Eileen’s body curved into Sam’s.

“I just,” Sam begins, twisting slightly so Eileen can read his lips, “I just miss him so much sometimes.”

“I know,” Eileen answers. It’s all she needs to say.

After a while, Sam gently wraps his fingers around Eileen’s wrist, partly for comfort, partly to grab her attention. “Dean’s baseball game is next weekend. Do we know yet if it’s going to conflict with Beth’s dance rehearsal?”

“It shouldn’t,” Eileen answers, and with that, the normal routine of their life is reestablished. The grief is always present, but it’s part of the human condition.

Castiel turns his eyes back to Heaven, where Dean waits for him. Despite it being Heaven, he insists on making repairs to Bobby’s house as well as the Roadhouse, even when Castiel reminds him, for the hundredth time, that if he truly wanted to, he could fix these imperfections with a thought.

“Sometimes, you just have to do things the hard way,” he answers, through a mouthful of nails.

Castiel rolls his eyes and goes to help him.

---

The morning dawns, quiet and gentle. The dawn is silvery-gold as it stretches across the grass leading up to the cabin. In the distance, the birds start singing. Castiel can smell the fresh scents of spring, dew clinging to the grass, the clean, bright potential in the air. His toes stick out from underneath the comforter, but a quick flip of his foot flicks the corner of the blanket back into place.

A warm, heavy arm winds over his waist. “Babe, it’s too early,” Dean mumbles into the nape of his neck. “Go back to sleep.”

Castiel strokes over the back of Dean’s hand. The words are tempting, but something has woken him up, and now that it has, he wants to know what it is. He props himself up on his elbows, ignoring the chill of the air as it bites at his bare skin, and concentrates. After a second, he startles.

“Dean,” he says.

Though he doesn’t put urgency or fear into his voice, something about his tone makes Dean open his eyes, suddenly alert. Castiel looks at him, and Dean rolls over onto his side. After their time together, they’ve mastered the art of the wordless conversation, much to the chagrin of Charlie, Kevin, and anyone within ten miles of them, at least according to Jo.

“It’s time?” Dean asks. He rolls closer to Castiel, stealing his warmth, as he trails his fingers over Castiel’s ribs.

“Yes,” Castiel answers, taking Dean’s hand in his and pressing kisses to each of Dean’s fingertips. “Won’t be long now.”

Dean’s fingers slide across his cheek before he curls his fingers around the bolt of Castiel’s jaw, pulling him down. Their lips meet in a chaste kiss which still manages to make fireworks explode in the pit of Castiel’s belly. He doesn’t think the thrill of kissing Dean will ever fade. Castiel doesn’t want it to.

“I should get going,” Dean murmurs, rubbing against the bristles on Castiel’s cheek. “You want to come along?”

Castiel relaxes back into the mattress, only reluctantly parting from Dean. “No, you go. I’ll be here when you get back.”

“I know.” Dean slides out of bed, and Castiel takes a moment to appreciate the play of his muscles underneath fair skin. He lets out a small, disappointed noise when Dean slides into a pair of jeans and a jacket, causing Dean to roll his eyes at him over his shoulders. “Yeah, keep it in your pants. Definitely wearing clothes to this particular meeting.”

“Shame,” Castiel murmurs, waggling his eyebrows.

“Shameless,” Dean corrects, leaning over the mattress to kiss Castiel once more, short and sweet. “We’ll be back before too long.” Another kiss to Castiel’s forehead, and then Dean murmurs, “I love you,” into his hair.

Castiel smiles. Much like kissing Dean, hearing those words will never grow old to him. He’ll revel in them, roll in the simple syllables, allow them to sink into him, with the simple truth that Jack tells him, that Charlie tells him, that Kelly tells him, that even Bobby and Ellen and Jo tell him.

You are valued. You are loved.

He smiles at Dean Winchester, this impossible, miracle of a man. “I love you too,” he replies.

Dean out of the bedroom. The door to the cabin opens and closes. Castiel rolls over onto his back and stretches, staring up at the ceiling.

There’s work to be done today. He’ll need to travel through Heaven, informing the various interested parties that Sam Winchester has arrived. There will be a party tonight at the Roadhouse, a celebration instead of mourning. Then he and Dean will get to show Sam their Heaven, will listen to Sam relate through his years.

There is so much work to do.

But they have time. They have all the time they need.

---

“Life never ends when you are in it.”--Lemony Snicket, The Beatrice Letters

1K notes · View notes

rogue-durin-16 · 3 years

Text

LIFE-SAVING SHARPIE

Summary: Despite being a muggle, Y/n's mother was an expert in divination. She tried to teach Y/n, who saw it as a mere muggle game. But, oh, what a powerful weapon a muggle game can become in the hands of the right witch.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Genre: angst (w/ a good ending)

Tags:

Fred Weasley: @whiskeyn-rain @lumos-solemn

Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog

Warnings: injuries, death(ish)

A/N: I'm not saying I'm incapable of writing an angsty ending for a Fred Weasley story, but I'd rather not do that, so here comes a stupid story that occurred to me this morning, enjoy <3

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

"Y/l/n!" I sighed. "Is it true?"

"Your mom is into divination?" George question made me throw my head back in desperation as both twins made their way through the Great Hall to meet me.

I knew that day would be a bumpy one the moment we entered in the Divination classroom. The fact that a muggleborn aced a new subject since class one was strange.

I knew I would have to give some explanation to my friends after. Ron was particularly shocked by the fact that my muggle mother had taught me —against my will, may I say— lots of Divination-related things. I knew Ron, being Ron, would surely tell every soul that would listen about his discovery, but I had hoped for him to wait until the third period at least.

"Secrets spread like wildfire here." I said.

"Are you secretly a soothsayer?"

"Yes, Fred. You see, I have the Sight." I ironically stated, and, seeing this as a perfect opportunity to get closer to the boy I fancied, I added "Want me to read your palm?"

They shared an amused look, fully aware that I was joking. Even in the Wizarding World, divination wasn't something to believe in.

There were supposed to be people able to see the future, such as professor Trelawney, but no student had seen her predict a thing, so she wasn't the best example.

George was the first one to sit down. "Predict my future, oh, you who were gifted with the Sight." I snorted as he laid his palm before my eyes.

I picked his hand on mines, "Hmm..." Fred hovering over my form from behind wasn't ideal for me to concentrate. "Okay so..." I felt one of his hands toying with the clasp of my necklace, brushing my nape. "Will you stop touching my necklace and sit down?" I demanded.

"Yeah Fred, sit down." George reprimanded his brother. "She's trying to see my future." I heard Fred chuntering before he plopped down on my other side, leaning on a tad too close for my liking. "Alright, fortuneteller, is there a love line?"

Of course he would ask about that. "Let's see..." I traced said line, unable to remember to the T what my mom had tried to teach me. "So, the heart line is arched... Which means..."

"That you can't tell a thing?" I slapped Fred's arm.

"Which means he's balanced." I corrected him. "You're able to realize when you need to take care of yourself, and when you should let a someone in." George seemed invested. "You'll have just one serious partner, but they'll be the right one."

"Well, that doesn't sound half bad, huh?" He looked at me with a content smile.

"My turn." Fred spoke, smacking his brother's hand away and replacing it with his left one. "The line of life or whatever." He scooted a bit closer and I felt my heartbeat pick up. "What's my fate?"

"Are you left-handed, Fred?" I questioned with an eyebrow raised, already knowing the answer. "I need your dominant hand." Oh well, that came out wrong.

"Straightforward, are we?" George snorted at his brother's remark as he exchanged hands, turning to straddle the bench to be more comfortable. "Alright, what do you see?" He had leaned on to the point where he only needed to tilt his head down a couple of inches to rest it on my shoulder.

"A hand." I deadpanned, which earned a playful push from him. "Okay, okay— I see..." A puzzled frown took over my gaze. "Wait—" I turned to George. "gimme your hand."

"What?" Fred questioned, shifting his position ever so slightly.

"Uhm..." The frown grew bigger, and I had to remind myself what I was doing was a joke. "You... don't have a lifeline?" I dubiously informed. "I mean— it sorta... Starts? but then it fades away." I widened my eyes and froze, remembering what that meant.

I saw Fred tilting his head slightly. "Is it so bad that you won't tell me what it means?" He asked jokingly in order to lighten my distraught mood.

"It— well, it means that you'll die at a young age." My eyes met his and, despite the amused smile that always danced on his lips, fear slipped out of his orbs now, too.

"Wait what?" George propped himself on his forearms to see his brother's palm. "Can't be. Check mine?"

"I just did, you git." George wasn't even smiling. Maybe he did believe it. "Yours is fine."

The three of us stayed in silence for an instant. Even if none of us believed in divination, the fact that Fred had no lifeline was rather unsettling.

"It's fine." I cleared my throat, turning to my bag and leaving Fred's hand over the table on the process. "Apart from seeing the future, I can fix lifelines." They looked at each other when they saw me grab a sharpie. "Don't move." I demanded, holding down Fred's right hand before tracing a black line where the lifeline was supposed to be. "There. A long, healthy life."

When I looked back at the twins' faces, I saw them ready to laugh. Distress had already left them, and that helped my own evaporate.

"Merlin, Y/n!" Fred dramatically exclaimed. "You've just saved my life!"

"She sure did." George agreed, patting my back.

"Now go and tell Ron to shut up." I didn't want to imagine what would happen if people started to believe I could actually predict their future; the twins were sceptic and even they had somehow fallen for it.

I was so focused on George getting up that I didn't even notice Fred's hand flipping and wrapping around mine.

A soft kiss was placed on my cheek and I felt my face heating up even before meeting Fred's proud grin. "Figured I'd give my savior something in repay." His eyes seemed to flicker to my lips for a second; it's just my imagination, I thought, unaware of Fred's thumb caressing the back of my hand until he removed it in order to stand up.

Four Years Later

FRED'S P. O. V.

One second I was laughing at Percy's joke, and the next one everything was black; not only visually, everything was pitch black in every fucking sense.

I heard nothing, I couldn't touch anything, my voice was gone.

My mind was completely blank, until a thought slipped in my brain: 'you'll die at a young age'.

My head was spiralling now. I was dead. That's what death felt like? Nothing?

Y/n's words kept going on and on, frying my brain. How ironic it was that the voice I would have forever in my mind belonged to the girl I had been in love with since I was fourteen, and the words were what we thought to be her silly prediction.

I had no idea how long it had been, but suddenly I felt it; a tear running down my cheek. A flaming hot tear, burning its way off my face. Then I felt something else, some sort of rope wrapping tight around my right hand and wrist, so tight that it made my pulse speed up.

My pulse.

It dawned on me that my heart was beating fast against my chest. It was beating.

I needed to breathe.

"FRED!" Someone forced my eyes open; It was Percy. I couldn't see him right away because the lights were blinding to my eyes, but I recognised his voice. "FRED SAY SOMETHING!"

"Y/n..." I couldn't hear my own voice, but I felt her name going through my vocal cords.

"HE'S ALIVE!" Ron cried. "you're alive-" my sight was blurry but I could pick out my younger brother's crown in front of me as he sobbed over my chest.

"We gotta get him out of here right now!!" Of course it was Hermione who got everyone moving. As both my brothers managed to pick me up, I felt my eyes closing once more. Not even the fear of not waking up again stopped me from passing out.

READER'S P. O. V.

I had volunteered as Healer to help Madam Pomfrey during the Battle, that's why it was me who received two Weasleys practically dragging a third one into the improvised infirmary.

I recognised him from his jacket. "Fred..." At first I thought it was his corpse, that's how bad he looked.

"Y/N!!" It was only when Fred seemed to tilt his head up due to Ron's cry that I reacted, rushing to help them. "Keep him alive!" I only nodded, taking Ron's place as he took off.

With one of his arms over my shoulders and the other over his brother's, we managed to carry him to one of the stretchers; his painful weak groans went directly into my ear as we moved him, triggering the tears I was holding to fall.

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

FRED'S P. O. V.

"—alive, somehow." Y/n's voice, though it sounded far away, let me know she was close. "No, don't wake him up."

"Listen, you gotta get him to St. Mungo." It seemed George the one talking, but his voice was too shaky to tell. "in an hour this is gonna get really ugly, I want him out."

"George, we're besieged." Her tone was hopeless.

"Look at him, You said it— It's a bloody miracle he's still breathing." my brother's voice shattered; all I wanted was to get up, hug him and say I was okay, but I felt my brain spinning once more. "Bill and I will escort you out of the castle so..."

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

The next time I opened my eyes, terror inundated me; everything was dark again. I gasped for air and propped myself up, instantly regretting it. A stabbing pain attacked every part of my body, triggering a shocked cry out of me.

"What are you doing?!" Y/n whisper-shouted, before placing both her hands over my chest to push me back to the bed again. "Are you mental?" Her fingertips moved out of the way a bandage that covered my eyes. "Oi, listen," when she noticed my shaky hands desperately trying to reach my face, she took them in hers. "You're safe."

I tried to say something —anything—, but my throat was sore, and the only thing that was able to leave it was her name.

"Shhh." She hushed me, letting one of her hands travel to my face. "You have to rest." I would have sworn she was crying, but I couldn't tell. "Everything'll get better." Her thumb stroking my cheek was the most soothing thing I had ever felt, so it wasn't difficult for me to close my eyes, this time willingly, though I was equally scared. "I'll stay by your side." The reassuring squeeze her hand gave me, made me aware that she had noticed my fear.

Before drifting off, I felt Y/n's lips placing a chaste kiss on my forehead, making my heart hammer against my chest.

I was still alive.

A Month Later

READER'S P. O. V.

It was Ron who sent me an owl the moment Fred finally got out of the hospital. He informed me that, instead of going to the Burrow to rest a few days—as planned—, ha had gone straight to the shop.

That's how I found myself the next morning inside Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, which was not-so-surprisingly full of people again.

Due to the huge amount of customers, it was relatively difficult for me to spot the twins.

Apparently, I turned out to be easy to spot.

"Y/n!" I turned in the stairs' direction to be met with a very enthusiastic George who, before I could even greet him, engulfed me in a hug.

"I see you can't catch a break." I observed, pulling away with a big smile on my face. That place really made the trick to bring joy to everyone.

"You can't imagine." He replied, his gaze wandering around before pulling my hand. "Oi, Fred! Look who dropped by!" He shouted over the hubbub, leading me to the till counter, behind which I saw the reason why I had come in the first place.

Just as Fred's eyes noticed me, he attempted to rush out of the till. I left George's side as soon as I realized that he, in fact, couldn't really rush out.

"Merlin's beard!" Despite he had just had to grip the counter in order not to fall, he tried again. "Take it easy, will you?" I scolded him, steadying him by his forearms and helping him step back to rest against the till. "Do you want to go back to the hospital?"

"If you're the one taking care of me, I wouldn't complain." The first time his eyes fell on my lips, I missed it because I was still securing him. The second time it was impossible to miss. "You know? Your sharpie saved my life."

I snorted at his nonsensical words. "You're delirious, Weasley." My hands finally left his forearms, just to be picked up on his. "Still suffering from the concussion?" I joked, trying to deviate my own attention from my fast heartbeat.

Another glance at my lips.

"I should get going." George spoke behind me.

"I was going to visit you tomorrow." Fred stated, his gaze now focused on my eyes.

"Sorry to break it to you, love," I pointed out, motioning at him with our hands still held. "But you can barely walk."

"Yeah, but I needed to see you." He looked somehow sheepish; I doubted I had ever seen him like that before. "I'm gonna be as clear and concise as possible—" He cleared his throat and forced himself to look at me. "I'm pretty much in love with you." I didn't know my eye could go as wide as they went. "Thing's I've known for a good couple of years now." He shrugged. "Telling you scared me, but then this happened." He gestured at himself. "And now not being able to tell you scares me even more." His eyes scanned me before looking around. "This wasn't the ideal place to tell you, but I didn't want to wait any longer."

I gulped, trying to process it as fast as possible.

"For Godric's sake, Y/n," he gently tugged my hand. "Say something, please." Fear started to take over him, even if he tried to keep it at bay. "It's alright if you don't feel the same, we can still be friends, I promise—"

"How do I kiss you without hurting you?" I questioned, already feeling the heat on my cheeks.

I could tell by his face that, out of everything I could have said, he was not expecting the answer I had given him. "Ever the caring one." He let go of my hands to cup my cheeks. "Just kiss me," he sounded so happy, it was contagious. "I'll deal with the pain later."

I listened to him and, holding onto his blazer, stood on my tiptoes and crashed my lips against his— only because I had been wanting to kiss him for too fucking long.

I got lost in the kiss and my brain completely dismissed that an entire wall had collapsed over the boy before me just a month ago; my hands went up to his neck, pulling him closer and, consequently, earning a painful groan from him.

"Shit! sorry." I was quick to let go, suddenly very aware of our surroundings, too.

He just shook his head and pulled my back to him, this time by my hips. "I said I'll deal with it later." He spoke against my lips before going in for a second kiss.

I was more gentle now, careful not to cause him too much pain.

To our dismay, we were interrupted.

"You said love confession!" George snapped us out of it; this time the groan Fred let out was from annoyance. "not snogging session in front of our customers! Get to work!"

He huffed, unwillingly separating from me. "If you stick around until lunch time, we can resume this."

I pretended to think about it. "I guess I can find something to do until then." My smile was as wide as his, and it grew wider when he pulled my into a hug, placing a kiss on the crown of my head. "I love you too, by the way."

His laugh reverberated on his chest. "Good to know."

"Freddie! Now!" This time it was me who groaned at George's demands.

"Help me out, love." Fred requested, pulling away from me so I could help him move behind the till counter. "See you in a couple of hours?" I nodded, pecking his cheeks and walking away from the shop.

It was when I started to walk down the Diagon Alley that it clicked.

His lifeline.

The sharpie.

"OH MY FUCK—"

#fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley x slytherin!reader #fred weasley #fred weasley x hufflepuff!reader #fred x you #fred x slytherin reader #fred x y/n #fred lives au #fred weasly x reader #harry potter fanfiction #fred weasley fanfics #fred weasley fluff #harry potter #battle of hogwarts

634 notes · View notes

thetaoofzoe · 3 years

Text

Fic: Syverson the Protector pt 5

* Syverson The Protector - Part I (pairing Syverson x YOU)

* Syverson the Protector - Part II (pairing Syverson x YOU)

* Syverson the Protector - Part III (pairing Syverson x YOU)

* Syverson the Protector - Part IV (pairing Syverson x YOU)

Author note: Finally part 5! Thank you so much for hanging in with me through this delightful journey and I hope that this part quenches your desire.

Summary: Henry has invited you to spend a few weeks at his cabin in the mountains and of course you agree. 💖NEW💖

Rating for this part: Sex, fluff, discussion of trauma (minor) Everyone has a good time and Aika is there too :)

I’ve picked ‘Henry’ as Syverson’s first name and he’s grown his hair out :D

Must be read in order, no part can stand alone.

Word count: 7500

Want to read more? Click for my Masterlist

‘Well,’ said your nurse as she watched you sort and pack your belongings. ‘If you want him to know how you feel, you have to tell him.’

She folded her arms and leaned against the narrow door frame to your hospital room. You glanced up at her.

‘I’m not twelve, Barb,’ you scoffed, nevertheless feeling pleased with her observation.

‘Well you were the one asking me to pass notes to him like you were in school.’

You raised your brows in surprise and then pointed an accusatory finger at her. You had resorted to note passing because you couldn’t see Henry face to face and communicate with him like an adult. It wasn’t an ideal situation, but you made it work.

‘You, Nurse Barb,’ you started, about to say something caustic and then relented, deciding to be sweet. ‘Did a great job passing notes, and I thank you.’

You flipped closed your small travel case and crossed the hospital room to grab at one of the slowly deflating helium ‘Get Well’ balloons which still listed lazily around the silver weight that held it in place. With a small pair of scissors, you cut the ribbon tether and lanced the mylar in an inconspicuous place. Pressing the balloon to your chest, you squeezed out the remainder of the helium air mix and added the now flat balloon to the pile of other flattened balloons.

‘So? Then what are you going to do about it?’ Barb continued to press. ‘Leave and regret never having said anything?’’

You stopped compacting the pile of deflated balloons and turned to look at her.

This whole budding romance thing between two war torn lovers must have been the most exciting thing that had ever happened to the nurse, you thought pleasantly. It was certainly exciting to you. So, you cut her some slack.

‘I just happen to know that he’s outside in the pool area right now. And, you have some time before your flight.’

The look on her face was both encouraging and infuriating.

Smiling, you walked to the door and patted Barb’s shoulder.

‘All right. I’ll go.’

She waggled her brows, turned and walked with you down the narrow corridor and then through the half-empty dayroom. She stopped at the double glass doors that led to the pool area and used her weight to press open one side.

‘I can’t tell if you’re a really good matchmaker or a really bad matchmaker,’ you said absently.

She shrugged.

‘Good luck, and don’t be too hard on him.’

‘I won’t. Well, I probably won’t. Well...I can’t promise.’

She chuckled and quickly gave you a one-armed hug.

‘I’ll have them bring your bags to the car when it turns up. There are a few people going to the airport with you. So if I don’t see you… keep in touch, ok?’

You nodded and walked through the open door.

The pool area, as they called it, was really just a collection of beach umbrellas shading colourful inflatable kiddie pools, some blowup flamingos, and an odd assortment of mismatched lawn chairs. There were several men camped out around most of the medium sized pools, with their feet in the water and enjoying each other’s company. You spotted Henry right off the bat, as he was the only one still in a wheelchair and paused a moment to watch him laugh at something the man next to him had just said. You were loath to interrupt them.

I’ll just leave a note, you thought, turning your back to the men in order to return to the day room. He won’t mind. I’ll leave a note and my business card so he won’t feel pressured to say anything to my face.

A little lost in thought, you lingered there for a moment, with your hand on the door handle when your thoughts were interrupted by a chorus of teasing male voices calling out your name, accompanied by whistles and several coquettish sounding ‘yoo-hoo!’s.

A wave of heat rushed into your face and you hunched your shoulders in a self-conscious cringe.

Jesus Christ you hated military men sometimes.

But you had been caught and you had no other choice but to turn around and face them.

One of the men kicked out the empty lawn chair closest to Syverson and waved you over. Taking the invitation, you drew the chair close to the circle, lightly rested your hand on Henry’s shoulder and sat down next to him. It was good to see him looking so well.

‘I read your new article,’ said the man, and by deciphering his medical wristband you learned he was called Solensky. ‘That was a damn brave thing you did.’

You shook your head and looked at Syverson, hoping that he didn’t think you were trying to steal glory.

‘I didn’t write it to showcase what I did. I had to tell people what really happened. How heroic the men were. And my partner. The sacrifices that they all made. What I did wasn’t important.’

‘Saving my life wasn’t important?’

Syverson sounded a little bit hurt and turning to him you were at a loss to read his suddenly cloudy expression.

You opened your mouth to protest.

‘I-- I didn’t mean that you… of course you are important. I just did what I had to.’

You held his incredulous gaze and continued, ‘you know that, Henry.’

Didn’t he believe you?

‘He don’t mean it like that,’ said Solensky. ‘He means that, you doing what you did, was important. Even if you don’t think it was.’

Henry obviously agreed with the man’s assessment, for a smile lifted the corner of his mouth and you cut a relieved and fondly exasperated look at him. Sitting back in the creaky lawn chair you kicked your feet out in front of you and rested them against the cushy rounded pool edge.

‘Thank you,’ you said finally and nodded to Solensky. ‘I had hoped to get it finished and published before I left.’

It felt good to hear some praise from the men you were trying to uplift.

‘You leaving soon?’ he asked.

‘Yes. Today. In a few hours in fact.’

You turned to face Henry again.

‘I wanted to say goodbye before I did.’

His face remained unreadable and you feared that you had upset him in some way.

The door to the dayroom opened and Barb called to you.

‘The car is here early. They have to do more stops, so you’ll have to leave now, I’m sorry.’

You shot Syverson a panicked look.

Now? But you didn’t say all you wanted to say. You didn’t have time!

‘Ok,’ Henry said finally. ‘You don’t want to keep them waiting or they’re gonna have you walking home.’

He pressed himself up and out of the wheelchair and breathing a little hard from the exertion, he faced you when you stood as well.

‘I’m in your debt. Whenever you need me, for whatever reason, I want you to call on me. It don’t matter, you got that?’

‘I got it,’ you answered, feeling a deep pang of agony and regret in your gut. Leaving was harder than you had expected.

Henry smiled then and curving his arms around you, he pulled you against his sun warmed body.

And what torture it was for him to hold you like that!

You put your head on his chest and embraced him in return. And, when you lifted your teary eyes, he leaned in and kissed your forehead. But that wasn’t good enough. Not nearly enough and you squeezed him when his lips met yours.

‘Ok… ok,’ you giggled, feeling hot faced and aroused. ‘You gotta stop that or I won’t be able to leave.’

He didn’t release you.

‘You can stay and come home with me,’ he said, moving in for another kiss.

You ducked your head and stepped out of his embrace.

‘If you behave, maybe I will.’

Barb cleared her throat, a signal that you were out of time, and kissing him quickly, you turned to leave.

‘Barb’ll give you my card. It’ll have my info on it.’

‘I will?’ she asked, glaring at you and then at him. ‘Boy, I’ll be glad when you leave and I can stop all of this note ferrying back and forth.’

‘See ya,’ said Henry.

‘Soon,’ you promised and went through the day room doors.

It had been six months. Six months of convalescing at home, writing columns and binge watching all of the television shows you missed while you were deployed. It had also been a pleasant six months of regular correspondence with Henry, which culminated in him asking you to come to the mountains with him for a few weeks. He had a little cabin in Montana which he had been renovating and now that Aika was finished with her mandatory quarantine in the States, he was going to go there and relax.

A few weeks in the fresh mountain air was just what you needed and once you agreed, he made and paid for your travel arrangements.

It was refreshingly cool when you shuffled into the noise and chaos of the airport arrival terminal on your way to the baggage claim. However, you walked a little more leisurely than the hustling crowd, taking in the sights and idly people watching. As a journalist, although you had trekked through more airports than you cared to count, the peculiar culture of tiny, and expensive indoor pseudo-cities like this was still so compelling. It wouldn’t be strange to see a bleary eyed man chowing down on a stacked burger and swilling his third bourbon on the rocks at 6:30 in the morning. Or seeing a grown woman tucked into an awkward corner, and clutching her carry-on bag protectively in front of her as she tried to catch some sleep during an unexpected flight delay.

You had been both of those people at one point or another in your travels. But there was another reason why you were strolling and taking your time examining the mass produced keychains and tee shirts proclaiming the name of the state you were in. You were nervous and your heart banged painfully against your ribs. You could feel it galloping and straining against its internal tethers and you had to stop occasionally and pretend to look at overpriced pizza slices in order to catch your breath.

You were nervous about seeing him again. That sweet, unfairly handsome Captain Henry Syverson.

The thought of him made you smile but you pressed it into a straight neutral line in the event someone was watching. You didn’t want to seem crazy, grinning down at a display case of heat-lamp warmed slices of cheese pizza.

When you finally reached baggage claim, a man, dressed in a dark suit and white shirt was waiting for you. He stood with the rest of the chauffeurs looking bored and holding an open tablet on which your name stood out in bold block letters on the screen. You walked expectantly up to him and he smiled and greeted you by name.

‘How was your trip?’ he asked, as he walked with you to the baggage carousel.

‘It was fine, thank you.’

And the two of you stood side by side watching the conveyor belt start to move and roll out the luggage.

‘Which one is yours?’ he asked, moving closer to the belt, ready to snag your bag as it tumbled by.

‘The red one, with the white stripe. It has the camera shaped luggage tag.’

He nodded and when that red bag came by, he grabbed it by the side handle. He then put it down, pulled up the telescoped handle and indicated that you follow him to the parking lot. Outside, the cool air woke you from your flight induced stupor and you took in a long cleansing breath.

‘First time in Montana?’ he asked, grinning as he watched you stretch your arms and back.

‘Just tired,’ you said. ‘Long flight.’

He opened the door to the glossy black SUV and helped you step up into the high spotless interior. Through the back window you watched him stow your suitcase in the trunk and followed him with your eyes until he climbed into the truck.

‘So,’ he said and fiddled with his tablet. ‘It’s going to take a little while to get to the destination. Is it warm enough for you? Too warm? There are snacks in the centre console and water under the seat. Do you mind if I have the radio on?’

The questions seemed rehearsed and you assured him that everything was fine before you sat back into the plush leather seats and he drove off.

Taking out your mobile, you switched it off of airplane mode and it immediately pinged that you had a message.

Making sure you landed safely.

You smiled and replied that you had done just that and were already on your way.

I’ll be waiting. I hope you’re hungry.

The driver was right. It took two and a half hours to get to the cabin and the last mile or so was on a dirt road so pitted and bumpy that you weren’t sure you were going to come out of the ride in one piece.

But it was all made better when you spotted Henry standing with Aika on the broad porch of a gorgeous mountain cabin. When he said that he wanted you to spend time with him at the cabin, you immediately pictured it to be a one or two room Little House on the Prairie type place. Which was absolutely fine with you, as you wouldn’t be there to admire the decor. However, you were not expecting the beautiful structure that stood proudly amongst the trees.

The driver slowed, made an awkward k-turn in the dirt and deposited you directly in front of the tall man approaching the truck.

The sight of Henry made you feel weak and proud to show the driver that you had been chosen by a superior specimen. Henry briefly spoke to the driver through his open window and the trunk popped open. With hands clasped in your lap, you waited. Henry grabbed your suitcase, slammed shut the trunk and then opened your door. He positively beamed at you and when you took his outstretched hand, you felt like a princess being rescued from a high tower.

When the SUV made its way back down the dirt road and the two of you were finally alone, you were faced with one of two decisions.

One: behave in your usual awkward way and shake his hand or pat his shoulder and thank him for letting you come and visit.

Two: press into his arms and give him the biggest hello I fucking missed you, kiss he’d ever received.

With some internal dismay, you found yourself leaning towards option one. You didn’t want to lead him to the wrong impression about you and slowly you extended your hand.

A look of surprise drifted across his face, but he was apparently willing to follow your lead. Before he could take that hand, you had a change of heart and instead ran straight at him and clamped your arms about his waist.

‘Hey, baby,’ he murmured, kissing the top of your head and enveloping you in his strong arms.

Oh God, you thought. I’m gonna start crying.

Tears pricked your eyes and before you could stop yourself, you heaved with a desperate sob.

‘What’s the matter?!’ he asked, sounding alarmed with the sudden change in your attitude.

You clutched him tighter and put your face against him.

‘I’m… I’m so happy to see you standing right here,’ you gasped.

The last time you’d seen him in the flesh, he had still been mostly confined to a wheelchair, still healing from his terrible wounds and unable to look after himself. But there he was now, strong and whole and so warm in your arms that you felt an overwhelming sense of affection for him.

Henry held you tighter and you felt infinitely safe in his embrace. Everything was right with the world.

‘I thought about the moment I could do this,’ he said, gently stroking your back. ‘And now I made you cry.’

‘I’m just so happy to see you well,’ you said, pulling back and looking at his wryly smiling face. ‘And not hooked up to wires and IVs.’

‘Ok,’ he drawled. ‘Me too. In that case…’

He curved one hand about your cheek and lifting your face, he kissed you. It took a few more moments of cuddling before you eventually stopped trembling and having an existential crisis. He drew back, bent down and picked up your bag.

‘You hungry?’ he asked, slipping his hand down to your lower back and guiding you to the glorious cabin.

‘Famished!’ you announced and stopped at the bottom of the stairs.

The dog on the porch sat up and wriggled with pleasure, her thick furry tail whapping excitedly on the wooden boards.

Henry dragged his fingers through the thick brown and black scruff and scratched her angular head. The dog bowed and flattened her ears softly and approached you. You put both hands on her head and massaged her fluffy ears.

‘I remember you,’ you said to the dog who continued to eagerly lick at your hands.

‘This place is different than where she’s from, but she loves it.’

Then to Aika he said, ‘stay on the porch.’

And the dog promptly flopped down on the cushiony bed made from folded quilts and began her surveillance of the surrounding tranquil woods.

Henry opened the cabin door and ushered you in.

The inside was just as spectacular as the outside and your mouth came open with surprise.

‘I know you did all of this, didn’t you. It’s so… beautiful.’

‘I had help,’ he answered modestly. ‘It’s been a work in progress for years. Still got some things to do, but it’s liveable.’

Liveable, you scoffed silently. That was an understatement. The place was an obviously handcrafted masterpiece. From the matte blonde wood flooring and the warm caramel panelling, it was a masculine tribute to a rustic lifestyle. The appliances were new, but understatedly retro and wood burning. The main living room was broad and comfortable with soft couches and homespun appointments. You followed Henry down a narrow hallway to the left. Off of that hallway was a short staircase that led to the upper floor.

‘There’s a guest bedroom down there,’ he said pointing to the door at the end of the corridor and the master is upstairs.’

He gestured that you go up the stairs and you complied. Opening the door at the top of the stairs, you found yourself walking into a bright warm room with a large bed facing a broad clean window that overlooked the trees and the lake behind the cabin. It smelt of pine and you wondered if he picked that scent because he thought you might like it. You did like it.

Henry put your bag on the floor by the bed.

‘This is your room.’

He rested a hand on the glossy dresser top which had been pushed against the far wall.

‘You can put your stuff in here, or hang them up in the closet.’

He opened the door next to the dresser to show you the empty closet space.

‘Bathroom’s over here.’

He crossed the room, opened the second door and you poked your head in, pleased to see a full bath and tub.

That tub might come in handy for sexytimes.

Once the tour was completed you smiled at him, but left the question of where he was going to stay to burn on the tip of your tongue.

It didn’t stay there long for Henry beat you to it.

‘I’ll be downstairs… in the guest room.’

There was hesitation in his voice and he trailed off seeming suddenly shy and awkward.

Was he as nervous about your visit as you were?

He didn’t look at you as he put a hand against the back of his head, which you knew was an unconscious self-soothing gesture. But you didn’t want to put him out of his misery just yet. You were enjoying it too much.

‘If… when you need me,’ he finished.

The implication of needing him, at night, hung heavily in the air and trailing a finger up his bare forearm, you squashed a smile.

‘And you’ll be downstairs…’ you said, keeping your voice serious and your expression neutral. ‘If… I mean when I need you. You’ll be downstairs? In the guest bedroom? Downstairs?’

He looked at you a moment, his own expression a mild mix of confusion and then that sweet slow bloom of understanding in his eyes. You saw the exact moment that he realised you were teasing him and you couldn’t help laughing.

‘C’mon you,’ you said, slipping your hand into his. ‘I’m starving.’

***

Once downstairs, he packed a big red-topped cooler with vegetables and potatoes and steaks that had been marinating overnight, as well as cutlery, plates and other sundry items. Carrying only a chilled six pack of bottled lager, you followed him down the winding gravel path to the lake. There was a rustic firepit down there flanked by two dark wood adirondack chairs and a picnic table.

You wondered if he made all of that himself and then chuckled. Of course he did.

You watched him dump the cooler next to the grated firepit and go to grab a few already split logs from a nearby pile. Clutching the thin cardboard handle of the sixpack in both hands you felt unbearably girly and unwilling to admit that watching him start a fire with a small pile of tinder and a magnesium firestick, aroused the fuck out of you. It didn’t help that his jeans stretched nicely across his thighs when he crouched lower and gently blew onto the young flame before quickly adding additional fuel until the fire was stable enough to tent the logs over it.

Henry rose and dusted his hands against the seat of his jeans and you cleared your throat.

‘That was sexy,’ you said and laughed at your own audacity.

He glanced at you over his shoulder, clearly appreciative of your praise, but instead of addressing it, he pointed to the short pier.

‘Do you see the green nylon sack over there?’

You looked and nodded.

‘Take the bottles and put ‘em in the sack and lower it into the water. That’ll keep ‘em cold.’

Feeling helpful, you did as you were told. When you returned a few minutes later, you hoisted yourself up onto the top of the picnic table and rested your feet on the bench seat.

‘Do you want some help?’ you asked after a moment.

‘Nope,’ he answered, and cast another amused look at you over his shoulder. ‘You just sit there and be pretty for me, ok?’

You preened, and lightly patted your face. It was as pretty as you were going to get.

‘I think I can do that. Sure.’

And you sat there thinking about having children with him. You imagined taking them on camping trips and teaching them all of the survival skills they needed to fend for themselves in the event the zombie apocalypse drove your family into the woods. So you asked him if he was prepared for the apocalypse and sat there rapt as he explained his six point plan and how he had been planning and storing for the last three years.

When dinner was ready, the two of you ate at the picnic table and drank most of the beer and discussed the pros and cons of wasting ammo to achieve a head shot as opposed to just disabling the zombie so that you could escape it.

‘Yeah, but you are the one who’s gonna get the successful headshots. I’m just out there swinging a rake or something.’

‘Can get you a katana if you like.’

You laughed and swigged your beer. Pointing the mouth of the bottle at him you scoffed.

‘A katana?? I’d more likely slice myself up before I’d do any damage to a zombie.’

‘I don’t think so,’ Henry replied easily and stood up to stoke the fire.

He helped himself to another few spoonfuls of vegetables, which when offered, you declined.

‘A little training and some practice, you’d be fine.’

‘You have a lot of misplaced faith in me, sir,’ you teased him.

Henry was quick to answer.

‘You’re wrong. You already proved to be capable, ingenious and tougher than you think. I wouldn’t be here if you weren’t.’

Your chest tightened at the traumatic memory and you stared down at your empty bottle. The helpless tears started to threaten again.

But biting them back, you reached across the table and put your hand over his. Henry took it, curved your fingers over his and brought your hand to his lips.

Henry’s open emotion made you feel just as raw and vulnerable as you had that fateful day. The day that entwined your lives together forever.

You reached for him with your other hand and stroked his cheek, trailing your fingers through his beard which continued to amaze you with how soft it was to touch. He captured your other hand and kissed that one as well and then held them both. And when he smiled, you smiled in return. It was all right now.

It was starting to get dark and across the lake, you could see the setting sun disappearing behind the mountains. Henry got up and began clearing the table.

‘ Go and sit by the fire,’ he instructed you when you tried to help.

If he wanted to do all of the work, who were you to stop him. You slid onto the cool chair and drew your knees up and to the side to get comfortable just as Aika came trotting out of the woods. She went immediately to you and put her slobbery chin on your thigh. You rubbed her furry head until she was tired of the attention and went to beg scraps from Henry.

‘Coffee?’ he asked a moment later and lifted an old battered tin percolator to show you that he meant coffee and not anything else.

‘I could have one, sure.’

You had got used to black coffee during your time on the front and really never bothered to change it when you went back to civilian life. The cup he gave you was hot and tasted fresh with a hint of vanilla.

‘Vanilla,’ you said and he chuckled, seating himself in the chair next to you.

‘I ah… I got used to it over there, now I can’t drink any other kind.’

You didn’t mind it. Not at all and the two of you sat in companionable silence.

‘It’s a beautiful place, Henry. A beautiful cabin. I am amazed that you did all of this.’

‘My friends helped. This is their place when they want it too.’

Aika flopped down on the space between the chairs and Henry reached down to pat her head.

‘Are you glad I’m here?’ you asked finally, admittedly fishing a little for compliments.

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I’m very glad you’re here.’

You were going to say something else but a yawn caught you off guard. Now that you were full and content and safe, sleepiness began to creep in around the corners.

‘You had a long flight,’ Henry offered as explanation, holding out his hand to take your cup. ‘If you want to go on in to sleep, I’ll take care of things here out here.’

‘No! No, I don’t want to leave. I’m not too sleepy.’

‘Awright,’ he chuckled and leaned back into the chair.

Aika yawned then and you did the same. You put the cup on the flat arm of the chair and closed your eyes. You had never felt so happy and before you knew it, you had drifted off. When you woke with a start later, it was dark and the fire had been extinguished. A glimmer of faint stars reflected by the lake was your only anchor point that confirmed where you were.

But it was the type of dark that could only be achieved when there was no light pollution from nearby cities and you felt a twinge of panic.

‘Henry?’ you called sitting up.

He wasn’t in the chair next to you and Aika was gone.

Shit! What if the killer was still out there?

You heard footsteps approaching on the gravel path.

‘I’m here.’

His voice was warm and steady.

There was no moon and standing, you blindly searched in front of you as he came closer. He put his hand around you, resting it low on your back then pulled you to him. At his touch, a jolt of welcomed pleasure spread out from your core.

‘Why are you out here lurking in the dark?’ you giggled softly, pressing your hands flat on his chest.

‘Making sure nothing carries you off,’ he replied just as quietly and gave you a squeeze.

Henry was clearly feeling for the edges of your boundaries and you deeply appreciated that about him. He hadn’t forced your hand and he was eagerly playing by your rules.

‘I’m glad to have my big strong protector to save me from the monsters. Are you… gonna take me inside now?’

‘Yeah. C’mon.’

God, his voice was so unbearably soft and alluring and you knew that if you weren’t careful, you would find yourself beneath him in his bed tonight.

You had to be careful, so once inside the cabin, you kissed him and bade him goodnight. Admittedly, that probably wasn’t how he expected the evening to end but you knew you were going to make the wait worth his while.

After showering thoroughly, you changed your clothes and sat down on the edge of the soft bed. The cabin was quiet except for the normal sounds of the woods coming in through the open window and the sounds of Henry moving around downstairs.

I could get used to this.

After a moment you heard the shower running downstairs and you immediately worried that you hadn’t left enough hot water for him. Stretching out on top of the quilt you listened and imagined his naked body, his wet, soapy naked body and a tingle raced up your thighs and pooled insistent heat in your groin. You bit your lip and pushed your hand between your legs. You held your hand there, still and unmoving and listened until everything had fallen silent on the lower floor.

You breathed quietly, in and out and in and out again and relaxed, drawing your hand away and tucking it across your midsection.

Sleep, you thought. It was all going to be more rational in the morning.

Bright sunlight and sweet bird songs greeted you the next morning. After washing up, you followed the scent of coffee and breakfast downstairs.

The front room was empty, but there was food and a still steaming coffee pot on the stove. The sound of Aika barking outside led you to the door and then out onto the porch. Henry stood at the bottom of the steps holding a red ball which he launched into the air for the dog to chase. He turned when you came to stand next to him.

‘Morning,’ he grinned and kissed you when you lifted your face to ask for it.

‘Hi. How did you sleep?’

‘Yeah, good, good. You?’

You stretched in the warm morning sunlight and fondly watched Aika race back to you. She dropped the ball and danced away, to wait for the next missile. Henry obliged and the dog took off again.

‘It was better than I expected,’ you admitted happily. ‘It usually takes me a couple of nights before I can get comfortable in a new place.’

He nodded and took a drink from his flowered cup.

‘Good. Hungry?’

‘I love that you’re always feeding me,’ you said joyfully. ‘Can we eat down by the lake?’

‘Anything you want, baby,’ he agreed.

The air by the lake was warm and fresh and a few metres out on the water was a group of ducks having a morning swim. Basking in the sun with a hearty meal and an intriguing and funny man was the most indulgent thing you could have possibly done. And you held onto the moment for as long as it presented itself.

You even agreed to a short easy hike after breakfast and in a sun drenched meadow you lay in the sweet smelling grass and talked about nothing in particular.

The day passed in uneventful bliss and again, Henry prepared dinner over the fire and afterwards the two of you sat side by side on the top porch step to watch some unexpected fireworks in the eastern sky.

During a lull in the colourful explosions, you went inside to grab a seat cushion.

When you came onto the porch, you were careful not to kick the cup at Henry’s side. Instead you picked up your own cup and gesturing for him to make room, you tossed down the cushion and sat on the step right between his knees. A little smile blossomed on your face, a response to the feeling of peace spreading through you, and you leaned back against Henry using his thighs as arm rests.

‘I like this,’ you said quietly and relaxed into the warm hands gently kneading your shoulders.

‘Yeah.’

The sound of him, low and husky behind you, filled you with pleasure. You pressed harder between his open legs and he went still. This was the moment of truth. Your heart thrummed with anticipation against your ribs and when he relaxed, so did you.

A beat of silence drifted between you and then he spoke.

‘You wanna go inside with me?’

There was a loud scratching sound of your nails raking along his jeans, evidence of your involuntary reaction to his clear invitation.

‘Yes. I-- want to.’

The breath he let out was audible.

‘C’mon then.’

Henry pushed himself up from the step and effortlessly lifted you in the process. It was like floating on air, reckless yet safe in his strong arms and when your feet finally hit the porch, you were loath to be released. You turned around to face him and slid your arms about his neck. The force of his kiss surprised you, and you clung tighter to him, opening your mouth to take all of him in. Henry pulled you against him and walked backwards towards the cabin door.

You cried out with delight when he crouched and swept you up into his arms. Just like the charming prince he touted himself to be.

‘I love this,’ you murmured, nipping at his lower lip and then suckling it between your own. ‘Why don’t you fuck me in your bed.’

‘Fuck,’ he groaned and clutched you to his chest. ‘You’re gonna drive me crazy, baby.’

‘I promise I’ll drive you crazy.’

Henry didn’t waste time in carrying you to the small bedroom at the end of the hall.

His room was clean, and quiet. Not as fancy as the master bedroom, but it was enough with its bed and bureau and the small adjoining shower. Aika, who had been napping on the floor at the foot of the bed perked up and cautiously thumped her tail as if wondering why the hell the two humans were making so much noise.

‘Aika,’ said Henry desperately. ‘Out!’

With a groan of a petulant child, the dog heaved herself up and reluctantly left the room. Henry booted the door shut behind her and then set you down onto your feet. There was enough gloaming light coming in through the windows for you to see him grin.

He cupped your face between his hands and kissed you gently, thoroughly and then let his fingers trail down over your shoulders, your arms and then across your waist where he curled his fingers beneath the hem of your baggy tee shirt. Instinctively you raised your arms when he lifted the shirt up and over your head. He tossed the shirt onto the chair in the corner. He then turned you around and unhooked your bra which was also tossed to join the shirt. And still keeping your back to him, he kissed your shoulder and then the other and then kissed the space between them. The light scratch of his beard on such an unexpectedly tender place made you shiver and your nipples harden. He hummed quietly, a sound of absolute satisfaction and he nipped you lightly where your shoulder sloped down to your collarbone. You sighed voluptuously and leaned into his muscular chest, turning your upper body slightly and reaching back to smooth your hand over his head.

Henry slipped his hands up from your waist and cupped your bare breasts and kissed you deeply as if trying to drink in every bit of you. You felt utterly possessed, and helpless in the face of his overwhelmingly masculine sexual power. You would give him everything, anything and all he had to do was ask.

He slid his hands down your belly again and into the elastic waistband of your shorts. He eased them over your hips and chased your curves to the warm, velvety space between your legs. Highly aware of his two thick fingers beginning to work into your wetness you arched and moaned breathlessly, your voice rising sweetly into the warmth of the room. A dark knowing chuckle rumbled behind you and Henry dragged his tongue across your lower lip.

All of your attention narrowed to that single delicious focal point of those deft fingers stroking your quivering clit and sliding deeper inside you.

‘I want you,’ Henry murmured and the demand behind his words made you shudder. ‘I want you so bad.’

Yes, you thought. I want you. The moment I met you, I wanted you. I’ve always wanted you.

You turned in his arms and a wave of lust crashed over you at the sight of him. He slipped those two previous busy fingers into his mouth and sucked off your juice. You crooked a finger at him, beckoning him closer as you backed towards the bed. Henry whipped off his shirt and took his time unbuckling his belt and shoving down his jeans until he could stand beautifully naked before you, his thick beautiful cock hard and standing at the ready.

You were ready for him indeed. Henry closed the space between you and grabbing you about the waist, he hoisted you up and sprawled you messily across the bed. You sat up, reached for him and dragged him down atop you. He was heavy, and pressed you steadily into the soft sheets and you never wanted to escape him. Henry kissed you hard, punishingly, muffling your sudden cry of pleasure with his mouth. You hugged and kissed him and swore under your breath, eager for the soft velvety feel of his blood-hot cock sliding up along your inner thigh.

‘Come inside me, Henry.’

It was all the invitation he needed.

The newness of him sliding into you hurt just a little, a small but welcomed reminder of what it meant when two lovers finally joined. Henry stilled then, and breathed quietly, as if fighting his urge to cum. You stroked his shoulders and kissed his face, encouraging him to focus only on you. He lifted his head and held your gaze as he rocked up into you again, then again, slowly and deliberately, stoking that fire smouldering between the two of you. You arched against him, vaguely aware of your own lusty sounds and Henry increased the intensity of his thrusts and in turn heightened the ferocity of your pleasure.

Henry lit your fuse and it consumed you. It crackled over your sensitive flesh and along every nerve ending and you responded eagerly to every slow drag of his cock in and out of you. He made you feel alive, more alive than ever before and at the moment of your orgasm you closed your eyes and let his name escape your lips, offering it up as a prayer, as praise. As thanks.

You held onto him when he finally completed the circuit and poured himself inside you.

It took several moments of panting beneath him before Henry moved off of you and you immediately felt the loss. So you lay there, sweat cooling on your skin and basking in the warm feelings of well being. When your senses returned, you got up and went to the bathroom for a quick pee and wash up and when you returned, the bed was turned down and you crawled gratefully beneath the soft sheets.

‘That was fucking amazing,’ you murmured to the man next to you. ‘That was the best sex I have ever had.’

Henry chuckled and sounded pleased.

‘Yeah. I waited a long time for you.’

‘Oh yeah? The moment I put my hand in yours outside of the barracks, you what? Wanted to carry me off to fuck me?’

He grunted.

‘Yeah! Something like that. I would’ve at least got your name first, /then/ put you over my shoulder and carried you off.’

You smiled to yourself and imagined the scene and how shocked the men would have been to watch their stoic captain haul off the journalist for a little fun. You closed your eyes, only intending to get more comfortable to continue the conversation. However, again sleep had other ideas.

Light burst behind your eyelids and the sound of shouting male voices filled your ears. You struggled to open your eyes, but something was holding them sealed shut. Another explosion and then the sound of rocks raining down all around you. I’m on fire, you thought, desperately trying to claw your way out of burning clothes. Your hands were already seared into talons of fused flesh and bone and there was nothing you could do to stop the pain. Sand blasted your vulnerable flesh and you opened your mouth to scream, only to be choked by tiny merciless shards of hot glass. You continued to scream and scream barely aware of the hands on your arms and the voice calling you name. It was Henry and he was shaking you out of your nightmare.

‘You’re all right, baby. You’re all right,’ he murmured pulling you against him. ‘It’s just a nightmare. You’re all right now. I’m here.’

As the dream melted away, you curled up into his arms and burst into tears. Henry gentled you until you quieted and even beyond that until eventually you were able to speak.

‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry…’

‘Don’t be sorry, baby,’ he whispered. ‘Don’t be. I’m here. I’ll protect you.’

You lifted your tear wet face and kissed him. Then again and again, rolling onto your back and pulling him with you.

‘Make love to me, Henry. Please. Make love to me.’

‘I’ll take care of you,’ he promised.

And you trusted him to do just that.

The morning rain kept the two of you inside the snug cabin and in bed where you took your time exploring and delighting in the mystery of each other.

‘Does it still hurt?’ you asked, pulling back the sheets and stroking your fingers along the thick jagged scar that cut across his lower belly.

Henry looked down at where you were touching him and shook his head.

‘No. Not anymore.’

You fell silent, listening to the rasp of your dry fingers gliding across his skin. Henry curled an arm about you when you put your head on his shoulder.

‘You never went to talk to someone about it, did you.’

It wasn’t a question and as much as you wanted to feign ignorance, you couldn’t shut down your immediate and visceral reaction to his observation.

No. You had buried yourself in work the moment you got back to the States and didn’t want to think about the trauma that had befallen you. What was the point? It was over, wasn’t it?

Henry felt your body tense and he rubbed your back.

‘That’s why you’re still having nightmares.’

Your voice was small when you spoke, hoping to be heard against the lashing rain.

‘I thought I could handle it.’

He chuckled.

‘I know. I thought I could handle it too. They don’t let us go home without group therapy. I fucking hate it, but I do it, because it works.’

You stopped the back and forth motion of your hand and just rested it on his scar. It was the thing that drew you together, the thing that reminded him of you.

Henry turned his head and kissed your forehead.

‘You’re so strong. And you’re carrying this weight. But you gotta let it go, baby.’

‘I know. I… dream about you dying in the explosion and then burning to death. I can’t stop it. I can’t help you.’

Henry held you close.

‘You’re alive and I’m alive. I’m right here with you. You don’t have to worry when you’re with me.’

You slept against his chest for most of the day and dreamed, not of violence in a desolate place but of a bright new future.

-end part 5 you naughty little things. I love you ;D Please consider helping me to broaden my audience by reblogging this fic and sharing. Thank you.

Tag list: @lightsidecalling @omgkatinka @igotkatiepowers @the-soot-sprite @harrysthiccthighss @little-green-love @foxyjwls007 @angreav @maizyistrash @liquorlaughslove @supernaturallymarvellous @laketaj24 @october505 @inlovewithhisblueeyes @foodieforthoughts @wolvesandhoundshowltogether @singeramg @sapphirescrolls @brandycranby @zealoushound @eldarwen333 @beck07990 @lunedelorient @henrythickcavill @kalesrebellion @angrythingstarlight @lavitabella87 @kebabgirl67 @hail-horror-queen

#henry cavill #captain syverson #captain syverson x reader #man of steel #geralt #the witcher #reader insert

339 notes · View notes

raineydays411 · 3 years

Text

Oh,what am I supposed to do without you.

Loki x daughter!reader pt 2

Summary: You never knew your mother, but from the journal your Uncle Thor gave you, you knew she was a special women. You also knew that you were the splitting image of her.

Masterlist

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

Loki’s POV

Silence. That's all he heard now. No more sweet laughter. No more soft humming as she walked through the garden. No more mumbled words of love and whispers of sweet nothings. No all her heard was silence. Silence in the chambers that once belonged to the both of them. Silence as he walked the halls of a busy palace. Full of people but he was always alone. Silence..in the nursery that has been empty for nearly sixteen years. The bright beautiful colors, dull and covered in a layer if dust. But what else is new, everything has been dull since his beloved has died.

After he had his daughter sent away, Thor had been on more off world missions. He would leave for long periods of time and only come back to visit. Frigga would look at Loki with disappointed and pitiful eyes, that he would pointedly ignore. And while Loki managed to pull himself together and leave his room, he still had this dark depressing cloud over him. He was barely holding it together.

He was just...dark. His mischievous ways became cruel. Harmless pranks he used to play turned into mean tricks. His dry wit became cruel taunts. And when he wasn’t tormented people he was distant. There have been several times maids have found him staring out windows or at walls just lost in thought. Thinking of the life he could have had. A happy life with his wife and a child.

If only...

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

Y/n POV

Millions of light years away in Midgard, or earth, there was you. Y/n Odinson. After being sent away by Loki, Thor had taken you to live with Heimdall wanting to keep you close and true to your asgardian roots. But with Heimdall being the literal guardian of worlds and you growing to be a rather curious child, it wasn’t really a good match. So Thor took you to the only other place he could think of.

The Avengers HQ.

At first the team wasn’t too fond of the idea. Having a kid running around a superhero base isn’t really ideal. But after a while you won them over. Everyone absolutely adored you. Tony bought you any and everything you ever wanted, Bruce was your go to for advice, Steve doted on you and played with you whenever you wanted, Natasha was your self proclaimed aunt, and Clint was your fun uncle. Hell even Bucky found himself wrapped around your little finger. Yes, you had a wonderful life indeed.

But even though you could have anything you ever wanted, you still felt like you were missing something. Your parents.

You knew you were an asgardian. Your uncle Thor made sure you stayed true to your roots and you remembered the little time you spent on the planet. But you had no idea who your parents were. Every time you asked, Thor would always manage to change the subject. Other than the Avengers, who were more like aunts and uncles, you didn’t really have parents.

Now you knew you didn’t need them. You had a whole family of people who loved you like their own. But you couldn’t help but feel like there was something missing.

It wasn’t until a few days after your sixteenth birthday that you learned the truth.

See you always knew you were asgardian, but never knew who your parents truly were. You couldn’t remember your life in Asgard, much less your parents. Thor refused to tell you who your parents were. The most you got out of him was that you looked almost exactly like your mother and that she was the sweetest person he knew.

So when your fingers started turning a light blue and ice started shooting out of them, it was a little surprising to say the least. It happened on your birthday. Tony decided that it would be a wonderful idea to throw you a surprise party. And usually, you wouldn’t mind it as you’re actually pretty good at socializing. But ever since you woke up, you haven’t been feeling too well. Your head has been hurting, you felt light headed, and you just felt cold. Your hands and toes felt as if you were standing in the snow for hours.

As you were walking into the common room, the Avengers and some of your friends popped out, scaring the absolute crap out of you. Resulting in you pulling an Elsa and then passing out. And while everyone fussed over you, trying to figure out what the hell happened, Thor was planning on taking you to Asgard.

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

After persuading the team ( specifically Bucky and Tony), you found yourself behind Thor as he was greeted by a man who looks a lot like Idris Elba.

“Heimdall!!” Thor boomed embracing the man “It’s wonderful to see you again my friend.”

“Thor, its been too long!” Heimdall says with a smile,” Does the all father know about our dear visitor?” He says, golden eyes looking into yours. Your face grows hot under his gaze as you smile at him shyly. His face softens at the sight of you.

“Y/n, welcome home” He says with a nod of his head. Your eyes widen as you distinctly remember not telling him your name. Thor and Heimdall chuckle at the look of surprise on your face

“Moonlight, Heimdall was the first person to take care of you before the Avengers” Thor said chuckling.

“Oh, then its lovely to see you again” You say, not really knowing what to say.

Heimdall smiles and whispers to Thor, “ Does your brother know about this?”

Thor winces, “No...”

Heimdall stares at him for a bit before rolling his eyes. “My dear” He says to you,”You’re uncle is a buffoon.” You giggle at his words. Not understanding the severity of your presence.

“Come Y/n, lets get you settled in.” Thor says and you say goodbye to Heimdall, walking across the rainbow bridge in awe.

As you walk through the streets of Asgard, you noticed people staring at you. They whispered to each other as you passed by. You thought it was because Thor was home, but you had a weird feeling.

“Hey, uncle Thor?” you whisper

“Yes darling?”

“Why are they staring at me?”

“Oh...uh. ....cause you’re dressed in midgardian garments. when we get to the castle we’ll get you something to wear” Thor says nervously. You squint at his excuse. “Okayy” you say weirded out by his behavior.

Finally reaching the palace, you look around in awe. It looked like something out of a fantasy book. Thor lead you through the halls when a beautiful woman sped towards the two of you.

“Thor!” she said wrapping him in a hug.”welcome home my son”

“Mother” Thor says hugging her back,”I have missed you”

“Oh this is Frigga” you think to yourself. You feel a slight pang of jealousy, seeing Thor be embraced by his mother. But you push that thought aside when they break apart and Thor beckons you over.

“Mother...this is Y/n.” He says slowly. Frigga freezes at your name.

“Y/n?” She whispers, looking at you with wide eyes. She steps closer you you and puts her hands on your face and stares into your eyes.

“Oh, I’d know those eyes anywhere.” She says. “ Oh darling”

She pulls you into a loving embrace, startling you. “I haven’t seen you since you were but a babe.” she holds you at arms length. “Oh you...you look just like..” She stops herself, shaking her head and wipes away tears. “Look at me, crying all over you”

You smile,”It’s okay, its lovely to meet you.”

Frigga laughs,” Yes, I am so happy you are here. Come, let me show you where you can rest.” As she leads you out of the room, she turns to Thor and says, “Thor, don’t forget to mention our guest to your brother.” And with that she wraps her arm around your shoulders and leads you to a guest room, asking about your life and interest.

You answer, blissfully unware or the dread running through Thor's body at the thought of confronting his brother.

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

Loki's POV

Thor slowly walked to the chambers, regretting every choice he has made till now. He knew there were two way Loki would handle the news. He’d either go ballistic or completely disappear for however long Y/n was there.

For his sake and hers, he'd prefer that latter option.

Finally reaching his room, Thor stood in front of the door. He was trying to figure out how to tell Loki his long lost daughter that he disowned was in the palace. Oh and she doesn’t know who her parents are. And that him and his team of superheroes have been raising her.....and that she has ice powers.

Loki, sat in his room reading noticed shadows under his door. Rolling his eyes, he thought it was the maids again. They always hesitated to knock on his door.

“What do you want?” Loki says in a monotone voice, opening the door only to his his brother standing their with a sheepish look on his face.”Thor.. you’re home.”

“Brother! How lovely to see you” Thor said loudly. “ I just came to ...uh..came to..”

Loki looked at him in irritation and confusion. “Came to what?”

“Came to invite you to dinner!” Thor said grinning nervously

“What? no flowers?” Loki deadpanned

“Oh hush brother” Thor said. “I have been away for so long, and I would be overjoyed if you came to my welcome home dinner.”

“If I agree, will you leave me be?” Loki said. finally irritated with his brothers presence.

“Yes!” Thor said. “ Wonderful...”

Loki looked at him weirdly again and nodded, but before he closed the door Thor started talking.

“Brother, tell me, how have you been?” He asked

“Wonderful, now do you mi-“ “Be honest.”

Loki glares at his brothers words and stays silent for a while. Then he sighs and steps aside, letting Thor in his room.

“I don’t know.” He finally says, looking down at the floor.

“You..don’t know?” Thor repeats, not understanding the response.

“Yes. At first I was devastated, I was angry. But now...now I feel empty. Like there’s something in my life that I’m missing.” Loki sighs again, looking out the window. “Every time I look, there she is. Sometimes she’s reading in the garden. Sometimes she’s helping the maids. And sometimes...” Loki stops himself, tears forming in his eyes.

“Sometimes..?” Thor prompts gently as he slowly walks to the bookshelf, leaning against it.

“Sometimes I see her staring at me. Disappointed.” Loki finally says, his back turned to Thor as he lets his tears fall freely.

“Loki..I am certain she understand.” Thor says, “ would she be upset? Probably.” Loki tenses at his, his brothers words sting at his heart. “But, she knew you. I think she’d prefer her child to be well loved.”

Loki nodded, still not facing Thor. And because of that, he didn’t notice Thor swipe a particular journal and replace it with another book.

“Well” Thor said suddenly,” I should be off, I promised mother I’d help show our guest around.”

“Our guest?” Loki said making a face at the thought of socializing.

“ Oh yes.” Thor said walking out of the room, “ a princess of some sort, I believe”

Loki rolls his eyes, he knew if royalty was visiting, he’d be forced to dress up and make stale conversation.

Meanwhile, Thor walked down the halls, with a beautiful leather journal, that belonged to a certain girls mother. And a plan in mind.

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

Taglist: @mika-dannielle @brightsunanddarkmidnight2-0

#loki x daughter!reader #loki laufeyson #loki x reader #mcu loki #loki imagine #mcu imagine #loki x poc!reader #reader insert #poc reader #marvel x reader #avengers #avengers x teen!reader #thor odinson #thor x reader #fanfic #poc representation #teen!reader

650 notes · View notes

glacial-snowflakes · 3 years

Text

Subtle hum of the Hudson River - part 2 // Loki

A/N: Hi darlings! I'm sorry for not posting but I kind of don't have that much time rn :( I'm so so sorry! I hope you like it! <3

Here is part 1

Pairing: Loki x fem!reader

Word count: 2,5k

Summary: You and Loki take a stroll down the river, letting yourself be honest with each other. The words you spoke have an unexpected result.

WARNINGS: it's all fluff, don't you worry!; parts written like this are retrospection

Likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated. It’s really motivating <3

Outrage and disgust filled every little whisper he heard. The team's looks were so sharp that they could cut one's skin open. Sighs full of hatred. Snarky remarks, supposedly innocent, yet hurt like hell. Why would anyone care about God of Mischief? Yes, he might live in the Tower, and yes, he might call himself one of the Avengers now, but he would never belong. Never. Not after what he did.

"They will never trust me, won't they?" Loki asked Thor, his sight focused on a cup he was holding in his frozen hands. The tea wasn't hot anymore. It went cold just like his heart that had never known the warmth of love. Trickster raised his eyes to meet Thor's. God of Thunder could swear that for a moment, he saw despair painted onto his brother's pale face. "I thought you didn't care about them nor their attitude towards you."

"I don't." The raven-haired man said immediately but seeing his brother's smile made him speak the truth. "I hate the way they look at me. I know what I did, and I deserve it. It's just— Nevermind." Loki sighed and took a sip of his cold tea. Speaking about his feelings was never his strong suit. Opening up to someone and spilling his guts felt like a nightmare he didn't want to experience at all costs. Runaway was the best choice.

"If you want to gain their trust, start with Lady Y/N. She's the most perfect for being the first one to break the ice with. Believe me." Thor gave his brother a clap on the back and nodded. "Go on."

"She's holding a knife right now. I am the one who stabs, not the one to be stabbed." Loki muttered. Thor's look said everything. In response, God of Mischief just rolled his eyes, stood up, and slowly approached you. You seemed so focused on the meal you were preparing that you didn't even notice him at first. He cleared his throat. "Lady Y/N."

You snapped out of the trance you were in just a few seconds ago. You lifted a knife you were holding in your hand. It was all covered up in ice, even sharper than the kitchen utensil itself. You held it up in front of your face as you were breathing rather heavily, scared of the sudden voice that made you come back to earth with a bump. Loki could swear that for a moment, your eyes turned impeccably white, just like the snow you could summon whenever you wanted.

"I— I'm so sorry, I didn't want to scare you. I truly mean it." Loki said immediately, waving his hands, the visible awkwardness painted onto his face.

"No, no! It's not your fault." You smiled to assure him that everything was fine. "Whenever I'm cooking, I'm in a trance. Just me, food, my mind free of all the bad thoughts that have been haunting me." You waved your hand in which you were holding a knife, and the ice melted away, just like that, not leaving any mark behind. Loki gave you a subtle nod and asked. "What are you cooking?"

"Oh, I won't tell you." You blurted out, which was followed by the awkward silence. "It's because I'm making my secret dish. Y/N's secret delicacy. No one knows what's inside except me." You explained in the blink of an eye. Loki seemed to be a little bit confused. Oh boy, you weren't good at small talks either. "If you want to, you can stay and sit here. We can talk about whatever you want or, if not, we can sit there in silence. It depends on you."

A sweet, delicate smile appeared on your face. You knew it was hard for Loki. You could see that. You noticed these quick looks he was giving whenever someone whispered his name. You noticed his need to be included when you were in a group, but everybody seemed to be ignoring him. Nobody wanted him to participate in meetings or conversations. He was in a crowd, yet he felt like he was all by himself. You saw all of this, and it made you feel bad. You knew what he did, but in the end, he was one of you now. Every god could bleed, and it hurt you to watch.

You wanted to make the raven-haired man feel better. Even if you were the only one to do this and every other person was about to judge you, you wanted Loki to feel included, to feel important. You promised yourself that it would be YOU who will make Loki feel welcomed, welcomed in a place where everyone pushed him away.

"Can I ask what your exact powers are?" Loki started the conversation, and you couldn't help but smiled. He truly wanted to talk with you. How adorable.

"I'm a demigod with cryokinetic powers. It would take a lot to talk about my abilities, but I will tell you that my favorite one is making ice daggers. Quick and simple, though it took some time to master the perfect shape." You chuckled. "Learning to aim ideally in a battle to cut through a chest and freeze someone's heart was the most problematic part."

"I didn't know you are so violent and tough."

"I am not... I guess I pretend to be." You said quietly, not looking upon a cutting board. A deep sigh escaped your mouth. "You know, it's not a job for everyone. Sometimes I'm too gentle for that."

You didn't let the silence last forever, as you immediately asked. "How do you find yourself here? Do you like the Tower?"

"Ah, you know... It has changed since the last time I visited." Loki said, clearly ashamed of all the damage he did back in 2012. Till these days, the thought of the Chitauri ravaging New York gave you the shivers. It was a very demanding and traumatizing first day of work as the Avenger.

"A renovation was a must." You joked; to clear the air and shoo away the atmosphere that was creeping towards you. "What about your room?"

"If you can call a small couch in Thor's bedroom my room, then I guess it's okay."

"You sleep on Thor's couch?" It was something that surprised you and not in a good way. You got that Loki wasn't everyone's favorite member, but there was a ton of empty bedrooms in the Tower in which he could live.

The God of Mischief nodded. "It's not that bad."

"I don't care. I will talk to Tony. You have to have your own bedroom. It's not like you can sleep on his couch forever. It's not comfortable in the long run." Loki opened his mouth to say something, but you cut him off. "I've got it covered, don't worry."

There was something in talking to you that made Loki feel at home. The way you looked at him; gave him the sweetest and prettiest smiles he has ever seen. There was no hate in your voice, no disgust that he's been experiencing on a daily basis since he could remember. You actually treated him like a human being, despite everything he has ever done. There was only one person he knew with such a kind heart, and you reminded him of her; you reminded him of Frigga.

"You know..." Loki begun. "I feel like you are the only one that doesn't want to cut my throat or stab my heart with my dagger."

You smiled gently. "I think you deserve a second chance."

"And why is that?"

"This is a story for another time."

***

"Where do you think you two are going?" Tony asked when you and Loki approached the elevator. God of Mischief gave him a quick stare before pushing the button with an arrow pointing down. You turned your head to face Tony, who was making himself a coffee. "We're going on a walk." You answered with a smile on your face.

"It's almost midnight."

"Said a man with a cup of coffee in his hand." You chuckled. "We're going to be fine. He's a god, and I'm a demigod. Nothing bad will happen to us."

You knew that it wasn't you who Tony was worried about; he still didn't trust Loki. When you joined the Avengers, you were one of the youngest in the group. Fresh blood, you could say. Stark watched you growing from an impulsive, careless kid with ice powers to a deliberate adult, a demigod aware of her cryokinetic strength. Seeing you change over the years, he felt responsible for your life. Even if Man of Iron knew you could handle yourself, Loki was too powerful. Tony refused to believe in his change, and with it, he was afraid that the Trickster was purely playing with you. If only they saw Loki as you did.

A few minutes later, you two were strolling down the New York. Just you, Loki, and the subtle hum of the Hudson River that made your troubled hearts feel at peace. Slowly paced steps. Your knuckles barely brushing each other woke up armies of butterflies in your stomachs that went on war. If you were bold enough, you would grab his hand in yours and intertwined your fingers together, holding him like it was the end of the world. It was something you truly wanted from the moment Thor brought him into the group.

"So..." Loki cleared his throat. "If you want to, we can talk or, if not, we can walk in silence. It depends on you."

"I'm not ready, not yet... I'm sorry."

"Don't you ever be sorry for not being ready to talk about your feelings, Lady Y/N." Loki grabbed your wrist and made you stop your steps. "Ever, okay?"

Something was mesmerizing in his beautiful eyes and a worried smile. Something that made your heart beat faster; palms get sweaty and clammy. Something that made you agree to everything he said. It was like a trick, but not like the ones he did from time to time to piss of Thor or Tony. No.

You snapped out of it and nodded. "Okay." You said and took your wrist from his hand. You began to walk again with Loki by your side when he asked. "Lady Y/N. A few months ago, I had asked why I deserve a second chance. You'd never gave me an answer. I'd still like to know."

You smiled, looking at the tiny waves on the river. "I knew you'd asked that sooner or later. I think I can finally tell you why I think this way." Your eyes focused on his face now. "Okay... Let me tell you something. It's not a surprise that you've made some pretty bad decisions in your life, and you've hurt a lot of people. You think you're a monster, and you don't deserve to be loved. You were never more wrong.

"In this group, you probably won't find one spotless person. We are people that made huge mistakes. You don't have to look far." You grabbed his hand without thinking. It was an impulse that just felt right. "I was a reckless kid when I got these powers. No one was there to guide me through them, learn how to be in control. And to a bullied kid like me, it was something that made me feel better than others. I was the one on the top. With my mortal mum that couldn't handle the demigod kid and my godly father that had so many half-blood children he didn't give a shit about, no one could stop me. The bullied became the bully. I don't like to call myself that, but this is true. I went through hell, and I made sure they felt the same way. I'm not proud of it, but that is who I was.

"So you have me. And then there's former HYDRA's witch, a billionaire who made deadly weapons, former Russian spy, former HYDRA's most famous brainwashed assassin and etcetera. Welcome, you're just as messed up as we are. Being here with us is your chance to become a better man. You belong here, Loki. Trust me."

At that moment, something broke inside of him. For a second, he stopped being a mysterious, private God of Mischief that didn't want to let in anybody. He let go of all the concerns and worries that had been occupying his mind for far too long. He threw away the image of a monster he considered himself to be.

The words you spoke made him realize that as long as you were next to him, there was nothing he couldn't do. You were the key to his pure heart from the beginning. You were the answer he'd been looking for all along. You were the light that could sweep away the darkness that'd been consuming him from within, and he wanted you to shine beside him forever.

When Loki leaned over to your ear, all you could feel was his warm, shaky breath on your neck that sent the shivers down your spine. "Don't hate me for this." He whispered almost inaudibly as his hands found their way to your hips. His long, lean fingers quite roughly pressed onto your skin. Just like electricity, his touch pierced through your whole body, made your knees get weaker. Your senses were fogged, almost like you were under control. All you could focus on was how his mellowy soft lips felt against yours. The kiss was sweet and passionate, yet gentle at the same time. It wasn't hasty and rough like you'd expect it to be, no. There was something else, something special about it. It was Loki's way to describe every little feeling he had for you. Your adorable smiles you'd been giving him, slight touches you didn't even think he noticed, tea and sympathy. It was all for what he wanted to return the favor.

For a moment, you weren't sure if this was real. Was it just a pure imagination of your mind that was thirsty for love and affection? Or maybe it was a trick, fake reality that you'd fallen for so naively? No, it couldn't be. You could feel it. Feel your heart crazily pounded like it wanted to escape the cage in which it was held for far too long. It was the only thing that helped you stay sober.

You didn't want to stop this. You wanted to stay in this moment forever, scared that once it ended, it would never come back.

"Loki..." You started when you two pulled out to catch a breath. "I could never hate you for making my dreams come true."

The raven-haired man didn't say anything. In response, he wrapped his arms around your still weak body and brought you even closer, so there was no space left between you and him. You felt his chin gently placed on the top of your head. With a smile on your face, you embraced him tightly and snuggled your face onto his chest. All that you heard was his heart pounding fast in the same rhythm as yours, as the subtle hum of the Hudson River accompanied your feelings growing for each other at that moment.

tag: @handmaiden-of-mischief @amiechuchu

#loki x y/n #loki x reader #loki x you #loki imagine #loki oneshot #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki #loki laufeyson imagine #loki layfeyson x reader #loki layfeyson x you #loki laufeyson #loki x female reader #avengers x y/n #loki x avenger reader #avengers x you #avengers x reader

97 notes · View notes

heauxplesslydevoted · 3 years

Text

Then & Now (Ethan x MC)

Summary: A particularly difficult case forces Ethan to confront a blast from his past

A/N: This popped into my head and I had too much fun writing it. I will loosely incorporate some of the themes from book 3 and make them better, but this is mostly an AU.

A/N 2: Yes I’m writing another multipart fic while actively ignoring my others. The muses spoke and I had no choice in the matter. Enjoy!

~v~

“Would you like some more coffee, Dr. Ramsey?”

Whatever line he was reading in his textbook blurs as does his vision. Ethan looks up at the face of the newest member of the team, a young resident, Isabelle. He takes the cup, not missing the way her eyes light up as he does so. What is it with residents and their incessant need to kiss-ass and be people pleasers?

“Thank you, Dr. Proctor.”

“Of course! I figured we’d need all the caffeine we could get our hands on with this case.”

Ethan doesn’t respond with words, only offering the young woman a hum in acknowledgement. Instead his eyes land on his coworker, Harper Emery. “Harper, has your team been able to come up with anything new?”

“Nothing,” Harper replies with a resigned sigh.

“You have got to be kidding me.”

“I’ve run as many tests, MRIs and CT scans as I could, and none of them came back with anything conclusive. We’re officially back to square one.”

Ethan hasn’t been this stumped in years. A week ago, a patient came to Edenbrook after waking up without being able to feel anything from the waist down. A young, relatively healthy 25 year old with no extraordinary medical history, no recent reports of any TBI, nothing. He assumed with Harper–one of the nation’s greatest neurosurgeons–on the case, that this would be a simple fix.

As painful as it is to admit, he’s wrong.

They’ve gotten nowhere with the case, they’ve made no progress, and to make matters worse, he has Leland Bloom and the board breathing down his neck because it’s been years since the team has spent more than a week on a case, so a week with no news reflects poorly on them—on him, as the team’s leader specifically.

The last member of the team, Tobias, clears his throat. “Did he ever mention getting into a fight? Maybe he took a hit to the head, and just doesn’t want to admit it?”

“Maybe, but like I said, none of the CT scans or MRIs showed me anything out of the norm,” Harper says. “I can always ask him again.”

“That’d be ideal–”

Ethan’s sentence is cut off as the door to their office is thrown open, and in walks Leland. “Hello, team!”

The most senior members of the team stay silent, but Isabelle gives a slight wave. “Hello, Mr. Bloom.”

“Dr. Proctor,” Leland greets in turn. “Nice to know at least one of you has manners.”

Ethan checks the time on his watch. “What are you doing here, Bloom?”

“Last time I checked, I owned this entire building and I didn’t need to ask your permission to be here.”

“We’re nearing midnight,” Ethan adds. “What are you still doing here, and not at home? I’m sure Mrs. Bloom would enjoy seeing you.”

Leland ignores the mention of his wife Caroline, pretending like she wasn’t mentioned at all. “I just stopped by your patient’s room to see how he was doing. And then I decided to drop by to check in with you guys. Are there any updates on the Miller case?”

“I’m not discussing patient information with you,” Ethan says.

“Well, I am your boss.”

“And until you go to medical school, graduate, become a doctor at this hospital, and join in on this case, I don’t have to tell you anything. You may own this hospital, but I do not have to discuss my patients with you.”

“Okay, so you guys have no new information,” Leland concludes.

Ethan pinches the bridge of his nose in annoyance, this conversation giving him a headache even though it just started. “We were actually in the middle of a brainstorming session before we were interrupted, so if we could have some privacy again, that would be much appreciated.”

Ethan’s tone causes Leland to drop the veneer of kindness, the smile dropping from his face only for a second before he catches it. He looks away and sniffs haughtily. “Fine. I’ll check in with the patient tomorrow for a status update, since it’s clear I won’t be getting it from my employees. Thankfully, his father and I go way back.”

“I can’t stop the patient from divulging his own information.”

Leland glances around the room one more time, his gaze lingering on Ethan a bit longer than it does on the other occupants. “Goodnight, doctors.”

Once Leland leaves, Harper turns towards Ethan. “You act like it would literally kill you to be nice to him.”

“Be nice for what? Bloom thinks we owe him undying loyalty and infinite ass kissing because he bought the hospital. He’s pulled a lot of nonsense since moving into this position, but he’s not worth breaking any laws over. My patients deserve their privacy.”

“And I agree, but the extra hostility isn’t needed. The last thing we need is World War 3 with you and Bloom tearing down the hospital. Just be nice.”

“Okay, are we getting back to work or calling it a night?”

The rest of the team glances around each other. Pulling an all-nighter with Ethan while he’s in a foul mood sounds like a nightmare.

“We’re calling it a night.”

~v~

Ethan ends up falling asleep in the office, finally dozing off around 5 o'clock in the morning, surrounded by a mountain of books and the harsh light of his computer screen. The sleep is short lived though as the sound of his pager wakes him up.

He jumps up with a start, and checks the time on his watch before checking his pager. He only managed to get two hours of sleep, but he can’t dwell on that. The page is a 911 alert to his patient’s room.

“Shit!”

He takes off to the 4th floor where his patient is housed, thankful that the early morning hour means the hospital is not yet flooded with people.

Isabelle, Harper, and a nurse are already in the room when Ethan finally makes it. “What’s going on?”

“He had a seizure,” Harper explains.

“How long did it last?”

“Around 50 seconds. We administered lorazepam into his IV.”

“Could this be a new symptom?” Valencia asks. “Or something else entirely?”

Harper shrugs. “I don’t know, but I’m going to take him down to radiology for another CT scan. Hopefully this next one can actually yield some results.”

Ethan nods. “That sounds like a plan. In the meantime, Dr. Proctor, add seizures onto the list of symptoms to broaden our search criteria. Maybe that’ll help.”

“Gotcha.”

“We’ll reconvene when Tobias comes in and once we get the new CT scans back.”

There’s a knock at the door and Ethan bristles when Leland’s loud voice calls out to him. “Dr. Ramsey, can I speak to you out in the hallway?”

“With all due respect, I’d rather not.”

“It wasn’t a request, doctor. Hallway, now.”

Ethan shoots Harper a look, and she gives him a quick sympathy smile before he and Leland step out into the hallway.

They move a few feet away from the patient’s door, out of earshot before Leland lays into Ethan. “How in the hell is the patient actually managing to get worse under your care?”

The question actually takes Ethan aback. “You can’t possibly be saying his condition is my fault?”

“I’m saying he’s been here for a week now, and he’s no better off than where he was. You don’t have any information to give him or his family. Do you know how many phone calls my assistant has had to field because they want to get him transferred to a different facility?”

“We are giving him the best care possible, Leland. Just because you and his father belong to the same country club or whatever, does not mean there’ll be some instant diagnosis or treatment that he can buy...or steal. We need to do our due diligence.”

Leland is smart enough to know when a dig is being lobbed in his direction. His eyes narrow. “What are you trying to say, Ethan?”

“Exactly what I just did. Besides, why do you have such a vested interest in my team and what we do? I’m sure you have other businesses and people to micromanage these days.”

“You guys don’t make me any money yet remain my biggest cost. The least you can do is be efficient and answer my questions when I ask.”

“And like I told you last night, I know you own this place. You never let me forget it. But you buying this hospital does not mean I am here at your beck and call, now does it mean I have to be governed under anything that isn’t set forth by the American Medical Association. Now, me team is the best this hospital and this city have to offer, so back up and let us do our jobs.”

��You guys are the best?” Leland chuckles humorlessly. “Act like it. Or I’ll find someone else who can.”

The threat causes Ethan to pause. “What does that mean?”

“You heard me loud and clear, Dr. Ramsey. Loud and clear.”

~v~

“You idiot! Why on earth would you get into a fight with Bloom in the middle of a hallway?”

Ethan doesn’t try to school his bored expression as Tobias paces the entire length of the office, huffing and puffing as he does so.

“I didn’t get into a fight with him,” Ethan amends. “It was an exchange of words.”

“A loud exchange of words,” Harper adds. “In front of our patient’s room, might I add.”

“I had plans for this day to be productive, but the minute that man opens his mouth, I just–”

“We get it, you don’t like him,” Tobias interjects.

“Disliking Leland is an understatement.”

Isabelle stays silent, unable to find a good place to cut in, despite having questions. Ethan’s dislike of Leland Bloom is the hospital’s worst kept secret, but the contention has always been passive aggressive at best. And as a second year resident, she doesn’t have any background knowledge on why the relationship is the way that it is.

“I don’t like him either, but you don’t see me needling him in front of the nurse’s station!”

“Sure Leland is...obnoxious at times, but I don’t understand any of it,” Isabelle says, finally speaking up. Ethan looks at her as if he’s just now remembering that she’s been in the room the entire time. “What happened that caused this much animosity?”

Leland’s kidney disease wasn’t a major secret. Most medical personnel that worked at Edenbrook and the larger Boston area remember the huge media blitz, and all of the pomp and circumstance surrounding his hospitalization early last year. And the official story is Leland got a kidney from a family member who wished to keep their identity a secret from the public, and everyone ate it up.

Only a handful of people know the truth. That a few well placed phone calls and dollars exchanged got Leland to the top of the donor list within a day, stealing a second chance from the true person at the top of the list: a 14 year old girl.

“So long as there is breath in my body, Leland Bloom and his ilk will never get an ounce of respect from me, and I’ll just leave it at that,” Ethan says cooly. “And that’s all you need to know, Dr. Proctor.”

“Okay.”

“I’m just saying man, Bloom is petty,” Tobias adds. “Men like him, who think the rest of us should bow at their feet, don’t take kindly to getting told off, especially in public. Underneath the billions is a tiny ass, fragile ego. Can you just keep a low profile and be quiet for the next day or two, so Bloom doesn’t dismantle this team?”

“I’ll be as cordial as Bloom is,” is what Ethan settles upon. “Nothing more, nothing less.”

The only thing that can rival Ethan’s intelligence is his stubbornness. Tobias knows it’s the best he’s going to get out of Ethan, so he relents. “Okay.”

“Good. Now can we get back to work and stop talking about Bloom?”

His team nods and Ethan sighs in relief.. They still have a chance to turn things around and actually have a good day.

They fall into a productive routine, tossing around different theories, sharing research and narrowing down ideas. Too bad that only lasts for about half an hour before there’s a knock at the office door. A few seconds later, Naveen pokes his head in.

Ethan smiles because part of him was expecting Leland to show up again. “Naveen, this is a nice surprise! Don’t tell me you’re ready to get back in the saddle.”

Naveen laughs good-naturedly at his mentee. “Not quite.”

“Well what brings you down here?”

“I wanted to talk to you for a second, Ethan,” Naveen says.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yes. It’s not about me, it’s work related. Team related news, that I wanted to tell you personally,” Naveen explains, fully entering the office. “Is there any way I could steal you for a few minutes?”

“If it involves the team, I think we can have the conversation here. Is this about my...spirited discussion with Leland?”

“No, it’s about the case you’re working on.”

“Now I know we don’t usually work on cases for this long, and we’re working on it.”

“I know. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Leland has some concerns about how long it’s taking you guys to treat this patient, and he told me that he wants to outsource some extra help to speed things along.”

“No thank you.”

“He’s already made phone calls. I’m just here to give you a heads up about who he picked.”

“A heads up?” Ethan scoffs and rolls his eyes. Who on earth could Leland think of reaching out to that Ethan would need a warning about? “Who is he asking for? Mendoza from MK? Catherine Morgan from Stanford? The Boogeyman?”

“I don’t think I’ve reached Boogeyman levels of infamy. Well, at least not yet.”

The voice makes the hair on the back of Ethan’s neck stand up. It’s a voice he hasn’t heard in close to three years, one that he thought he’d never hear again.

His eyes snap up, locking with the large brown ones staring back at him, and all of the breath leaves his lungs at once. The last time he looked into these eyes, they weren’t full of humor like they are now, but pure fire. His chest constricts, inhaling suddenly the most difficult task in the world.

The entire room goes silent, everyone watching as Ethan and the woman stay locked in their staring contest. Isabelle’s eyes dart back and forth, hoping someone can clue her into what’s going on, but Naveen, Harper and Tobias offer zero assistance.

Isabelle takes the quiet time to appraise the stranger. She’s petite, almost a foot shorter than Ethan even with her sky high Jimmy Choos on. The second thing that catches her attention is the mess of dark curly hair spilling over her shoulders, and the amused smirk on her face, like a cat that got the canary.

The woman breaks eye contact with Ethan to look past his shoulder. “Harper, Tobias, hello. Long time no see.”

When he regains the ability to speak, Ethan grits out, “Naomi, what on earth are you doing here?”

“I got an interesting call from Leland Bloom this morning, saying that the diagnostics team was in dire need of some assistance on a particularly difficult case. Within the hour, his private helicopter was picking me up.”

Ethan takes a sterling’s breath and silently counts to 3 before talking again. “I’m not working with you.”

“You don’t have a choice. Not unless you quit.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

Naomi rolls her eyes. “Drama was never a good look on you, darling, I was always better suited for it.” She turns her attention to the young resident gawking at her, turning on her megawatt smile. “You’re new. I don’t know you.”

“Um, n-no you don't. I’m Dr. Isabelle Proctor.”

“Isabelle,” Naomi repeats slowly, letting it roll off of her tongue. “What a pretty name.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m Dr. Naomi Ramsey.”

The last name catches her attention. Her eyes flicker over to Ethan’s face, catching the way his jaw ticks as female Dr. Ramsey talks.

“I can see the wheels turning in your head as I talk, so I’ll clear things up for you right quick,” Naomi continues. “No, the last name thing isn’t a coincidence. I’m Ethan’s ex-wife." She sticks out a hand for Isabelle to shake. "Nice to meet you.”

~v~

Tags: @openheartfanfics @mvalentine @choicesaddict5 @professorkingslay @maurine07 @aka-calliope @bluebellot @whimsicallywayward15 @blossomanarchy @takemyopenheart @jamespotterthefirst @fanmantrashcan @whatchique @ao719 @x-kyne-x @paulfwesley @the-pale-goddess @writinghereandthere @ramseyandrys @perriewinklenerdie @aworldoffandoms @thatcatlady0716 @drakewalker04 @canknot @hatescapsicum @lapisreviewsstuff @senseofduties @badchoicesposts @ethandaddyramseyx @chasingrobbie @zodiacsign1 @choices-lurker @my-heart-beats-for-ya @adrian-motherfucking-raines @riverrune @edith-eggs1 @cecilecontrera @thatysn @bellcat2010 @blainehellyes @junehiratas @choices-love-affair @openheart12 @desmaranj @nazario-sayeed @aestheticartsx @ruinedbypixels @nooruleman @rookie-ramsey @uneravine @choicest

#playchoices #choices: stories you play #open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc

112 notes · View notes

alloftheimaginesblog · 3 years

Text

Life Without Colour -(PART THREE)

Soulmate AU: Your vision is in black and white until you meet your soulmate. You and your boyfriend, Steve Rogers, aren’t each others soulmates but you love each other. He introduces you to his friends, the Avengers, and a very odd thing happens.

Characters: Steve Rogers x Plus Size Female Reader, Bucky Barnes x Plus Size Female Reader

Notes: implied sex but no actual smut/descriptions just the implication, this part is long so buckle down, kids nearly 6000 words of angst!

Taglist: @domainoflostsouls forgetthisbull handon-h-art yourspecialcrush giulsgotmusic mrsbarnes-rogers luosymekawa linzeyzarcone forgetthisbull calamityreads talgra

PART ONE

PART TWO

PART THREE

PART FOUR

PART FIVE

PART SIX

The clock ticking on the TV unit was the only noise in the apartment as the three of you waited in the living room. You couldn’t look at him. You couldn’t look at anything other than your hands as you sat on the couch. Steve sat on the armchair across from you and Bucky was leaning against the wall. He’d overheard you in the kitchen telling Bucky that you needed to tell him and now, you had to... You just couldn’t find the courage or the words to tell him yet. Steve sat glancing between the two of you, “Well?” He asked, frustrated that he was being kept in the dark, “What’s going on?” It wasn’t like Steve to get annoyed, usually he was always so calm but he was worried that something had happened and he hadn’t been told. The look on your face made him stomach flip uncomfortably... What the hell was going on?

“Before we tell you,” you begin, voice trembling, “I just want you to know that I love you, Steve.” Honestly, you didn’t know if you could tell him. For years, you thought you were so brave and confident in your ability to speak the truth and now that the time had come to own up and be honest, you just couldn’t do it. You didn’t want to hurt him but more selfishly, you didn’t want your relationship as it was right now to change and you knew that by telling Steve the truth about your soulmate, you would be changing everything. You weren’t sure if you were ready for that or not.

Steve shook his head, more confused than ever. He had a feeling what was about to come was related to something that he’d been worrying about for a long time. He knew that this is what was bothering you yesterday and this morning. Whatever it was, it wasn’t going to be good. There would only be a handful of things that would cause an atmosphere this tense.

“Just tell me.”

“Steve... uh... At the party last night, something happened.” Your hands clenched together, trying to draw strength and courage from them, “When... uh, when you... When we...” You couldn’t. Weak. Coward. Pathetic. In that moment, you felt the guilt crushing down on top of you as Steve questioned what had happened and it was Bucky who spoke next.

“(y/n)’s my soulmate,” Bucky interrupts, having had enough of your stalling, “I’m theirs too.” So much for easing the blow. If only you had been brave enough to tell him then you could have softened it around the edges but no, Bucky stepped in to sharpen the knife before metaphorically digging it into Steve’s flesh, “We’re soulmates.” And he twists the knife before ripping it out.

Tears burned at your eyes as you stared at your hands, heart hammering against your chest hard. My god, you were terrified. Your mind raced and you almost felt like the guilt was suffocating you, wrapping around your body like a boa constrictor. What made it worse is that a minute had passed by and Steve hadn’t said anything; he was still and silent. You took a deep breath before raising your head to look at him. He was staring directly at you, face hard yet emotionless. You couldn’t read him. He had been waiting for you to look at him and look into those impossibly bright eyes, “Is this true?” All you can do is nod as tears fall down your cheeks.

His cheeks puff as he blows out a long breath. He shakes his head when you say his name, a silent signal to just stop; a signal to leave him alone for a minute. You studied his face and his reactions, trying to gauge how he felt but you couldn’t. He was frowning but didn’t look angry but you couldn’t figure out how he felt. It was another few minutes of silence before anyone moved. With a sigh, Steve stands and walks over to Bucky. He says something to him quietly, Bucky nods and says a few words back before clapping him on the shoulder and walking past you. His eyes meet yours for a split second before you look back to Steve who’s staring out of the window, looking at the busy city.

You hear the door close meaning that Bucky has left and you try and talk to Steve again, “I’m sorry.” Tears are building in your eyes again once you know that you’re alone with each other and you allow yourself to break a little.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice is hard but it isn’t angry. There’s a waver of upset but no immediate burning anger, “I asked last night and you didn’t say anything. You lied, (y/n).” From day one, Steve had told you how important honesty is in a relationship and it was so important for you too. You’d been lied to before and kept in the dark before and you didn’t want to do that to him yet... in trying to spare his feelings, you shut him out and did the thing you’d promised you’d never do.

“I’m sorry... I tried to tell you but... Fear is never an excuse to lie but I was scared, Steve. I know that we’ve spoken about it in the past, we always agreed that you would be fine with it but I never expected it to be your best friend! I felt sick when I saw colour. I always wanted the first colour I saw to be your eyes and instead, it was Bu- it was his.” You can’t even say his name besides, you don’t want to rub salt in the wound.

“What were you talking about on the balcony?” Steve asks as he turns away from you, once again looking out at the city. He doesn’t want to hear the answer, fearing the absolute worst, but he has to know., “When I found the two of you outside... What happened?”

“My head was spinning from the shock, the colours; from everything so I needed fresh air. He came out a few minutes later and he said that nothing needed to happen, that he’d stay out of the way if that’s what I wanted. This is so complicated, Steve, and we were trying to figure out how to best go about it.”

“You didn’t think to tell me about it and we could’ve worked it out together?” There’s an iciness in his tone and you don’t blame him for that. You almost want him to be angry at you so that then the guilt is justified. He takes a breath, trying to calm himself down. He’s never one to anger but it hurts him. He knows, though, that you didn’t cause this. Yes, you and Bucky lied but the soulmate thing wasn’t either of your faults, he can’t blame you for that.

“I wanted to, Steve, I really did but... I couldn’t. I wanted to tell you last night but I couldn’t find the words. I wanted to tell you this morning but I was half hoping that my vision would be black and white again. I couldn’t sleep because I felt so guilty over it. If I could take it back, if I could change things, I would do it in a heartbeat.”

Steve sighs and turns to look at you. His lips are pursed and his arms are folded but his face is just sad, “I get it. I mean, it’s not exactly ideal that my best friend is your... soulmate.”

You nod, “I should have told you and I’m sorry that I didn’t.”

A bit of time passes and Steve’s sitting on the armchair again with you on the couch opposite. Things weren’t as tense but there was still a kind of unsure atmosphere. You didn’t know how to proceed and truth be told, neither did Steve. He had been dreading this moment since the two of you became serious; he knew it would happen eventually but he had hoped it be a stranger and then you’d never see that person again. It was selfish of him to want you all to himself and he knew he couldn’t; you weren’t a possession or something that belongs to him but he didn’t want to have to compete with your soulmate. Life is never easy, life can often times be cruel and unkind and that’s exactly what it was right now. He couldn’t quite believe that Bucky was your soulmate. He knew Bucky, they’d been friends since they were kids and all he wanted was Bucky to be happy... All Steve wanted was for you to be happy.

“What do you want?” He asks, quietly. Once again, he’s afraid of the answer. He knows that he can’t compete with your actual, genuine soulmate who just so happens to be Bucky. He doesn’t look at you, instead focussing on the TV which is turned off.

You look at him, confused, “What do you mean?”

He really doesn’t want to say it but he has to know, “Do you want... me or do you want-”

Shaking your head, you won’t even let him finish the question, “You, Steve. I only want you.” Steve releases a breath and you can physically see his stress relieving, “I don’t want anything else or anyone else. All I have ever wanted since meeting you is you, Steve. If I could live a life without colour, I would so happily do that with you because even though we’re not soulmates, we paved a life for ourselves and I love you more than anything in the entire world.” You’d told him all of this before but he needed to hear it now, he needed to hear it more than ever, “I don’t want Bucky... I want you, Steve.”

His eyes are glassy, full of tears, as you expel his worries, “I need you to promise me something, (y/n),” his voice is tight as he tries not to cry, “if you start to feel anything for Bucky, anything at all, you need to tell me. I can’t have you keeping me in the dark again. If we’re really serious about this, you owe it to me to tell the truth. What happens after, I don’t know.”

“Okay but I’m not going to develop feelings for-”

“Please, (y/n).” The look in his eyes, you realise, is desperation. He needs his promise, he needs the truth from you; he needs to know of any updates instantly. You nod quickly, telling him that you promise.

“If anything changes, any feelings or just anything, I promise I’ll tell you.” The pair of you are quiet for a moment. It’s a highly emotional, highly sensitive topic but the pair of you managed to cope okay with it. There’s a small part of you that wishes he would’ve gotten mad. You didn’t like anger, you hated people shouting, especially men, but it would’ve made you feel better if he was more heated.

Steve clears his throat and you realise that he’s standing in front of you, he’s holding his hand out to you so you gladly take it and let him pull you up. He wraps his arms around you and you tense up, it doesn’t feel like you should be having such a tender moment after lying and upsetting him but you relax into his touch eventually. He holds you gently and you wish you knew what was going through his head. Ironic since when Steve holds you, he’s wondering what’s going through your head.

He presses a kiss to your forehead, “It’s okay,” he said softly, “I’m upset but it’s not like you could control it.” But I lied to you. I can’t control my soulmate but I purposefully hid the truth from you. I did the one thing I promised that I’d never do. How are you so okay with this? Why aren’t you mad at me? “I’m going to go see Bucky,” Steve said, “I need to make sure that he’s doing okay.” You feel like you don’t deserve any of Steve’s kindness and the guilt worsens.

“What are we going to do?” You ask.

Steve purses his lips before answering, “I suppose that’s up to you and Bucky. You’re both mutually connected through me so it’s not like you’ll be able to avoid each other. You might feel more comfortable seeing him occasionally but he might feel totally comfortable seeing you all the time. I don’t know. I’ll go talk to him and see where his head is at... What are your thoughts?”

You shrug, “I don’t know. Right now... I think it’s best to let all the tension die down before I spend real time with him again, does that make sense? He’s your best friend which means he’s part of our lives so it will be awkward but I want it to be... I don’t know... less awkward? Maybe time would do that.”

Steve nods, “Sure thing, sweetheart. Whatever you want.” He presses another kiss to your forehead.

You looked up at him, confused, “Why are you being so nice?” His niceness is too sweet. You feel like you don’t deserve it so it makes your mouth curl in disgust, not at him at all but at you; at your actions. His niceness only makes you realise how horrible you had been and makes you realise that you don’t deserve it.

He laughed slightly, “Would you rather I scream and shout over something you can’t control?” Yes, that’s exactly what I want. “Neither of you asked for it or planned for it so although I’m upset, I’m not mad at either of you. I know that Bucky will be beating himself up over it so I’m going to go talk things through with him; I’ll tell him what we discussed and I’ll smooth things over, okay?” You nod, “Will you be okay?” You nod again.

He leaves a moment later and it’s as you’re sitting on the couch, curled under a blanket in the dim light, you realise that you really wanted him to be mad at you. You wanted him to shout at you, tell you that you betrayed his trust and you broke a promise. You wanted him to tell you that he hated you; that what you did was horrible and that you should feel guilty for lying to him. You deserved that. You felt that if he had been angry; if you’d had a massive fight then maybe your guilt wouldn’t still be this bad... But Steve Rogers wasn’t like that; he wasn’t like that at all... and somehow, his forgiveness was worse than anger.

The rest of the day passed is a blur. You had originally planned to clean the kitchen and bathroom and vacuum the apartment but all you could do was sit on the couch and stare at the TV. It was an hour or so later when Nat called you, you answered after a few seconds.

“Did you tell him?” Was the first thing out of her mouth. Nat was never one for pleasantries, she much preferred to get straight to the point.

“I told him,” you said quietly.

She practically exploded into a fit of questions, “What did he say? Was Bucky there? What happened? Are you okay?!”

One by one, you began to sort through the questions, “After I came back from seeing you, Bucky was here and Steve overhead me saying to Bucky that we should tell him about the whole soulmate thing... God, it was so awkward but Steve was... Steve took it really well.”

“He did?”

“Yeah, I thought he would’ve been shouting and angry but he wasn’t.”

“That’s good, isn’t it?” Nat could tell something was still off. Your relationship had avoided ending and still, you sounded conflicted.

You sighed heavily, “Nat, am I crazy? He took the news so well, I mean he wasn’t happy about it but he certainly wasn’t angry. Bucky left and we spoke about it and everything’s okay... Am I crazy for not being happy with that? I feel terrible and the fact he’s okay with it makes me feel worse, I don’t know it’s like I wanted him to be mad at me-”

“Because then it all feels justified,” Nat cut in, “It’s a little crazy but we’ve all been there before.” There was a slight pause, “I don’t know exactly how you feel, I don’t know what that’s like having your soulmate being the best friend of your current boyfriend but I think that you’ve got yourself a rare one with Steve. He loves you, (y/n). He really, truly does and even though your vision says that you’re not soulmates, he believes otherwise. There’s not many people that would take that news so kindly and accept it so well. I think that you might always feel guilty but as long as Steve’s okay and you’re okay then I think you’ll be fine with all of this.”

As Nat spoke, you could feel a little weight lift off of your shoulders, “I love him, Nat. I love Steve. I just... I feel absolutely terrible.”

“I’m going to give you some tough love,” Nat said as she cleared her throat, “It’s not your fault that your soulmate isn’t Steve. You knew from the get go that you and Steve weren’t soulmates and yet, you actively started a relationship knowing this. Steve promised you, didn’t he, that he would be okay with you finding out your soulmate now I know it’s Bucky and that sucks because it’s always going to be awful but suck it up. Steve’s okay with it, even if it means a little extra awkwardness, but he’s okay with it. You feel guilty but I think you’d rather a little guilt rather than have Steve scream at you, say horrible things and make you cry. You’d rather feel a little guilt than have him leave. It worked out perfectly for you and that’s hard right now but you have to realise that not everyone would have been that lucky to get a Steve. You gotta suck it up and be thankful.”

You were silent for a moment as Nat spoke. You knew that you could always count on her to give you a little bit of tough love; that’s why you’d only told her and not anyone else. Nat would tell you exactly what you needed to hear; that it would be okay, that Steve was better than the majority of people and he was kind; he was probably a little too kind and that only worked in your favour. Nat was there to tell you that though you felt guilty, you’d rather feel guilty than having your heartbroken had he left at the news.

“My god, we should’ve been soulmates, Nat,” you say with a laugh, “then I wouldn’t have to worry about the drama.”

“If you would be so lucky!” Nat scoffed, “How do you feel?”

“Better now, thanks to you. I would much rather feel this than have Steve hate me or have him leave. I just... It could only happen to me.”

Nat said your name and somehow, you knew what she was about to ask, “What happens if you start to feel something for Bucky? I mean, you’re soulmates for a reason and it’s not like you won’t be spending time with each other. I don’t want it to happen because I know how perfect you and Steve are but... it seems a bit inevitable.”

Whomp, there it is.

“You make me feel better, give me a false sense of security and then you snatch it from me by asking questions like that,” you groaned, “I don’t know, Nat. I don’t want to hurt Steve. I-I... I have no idea what I’d do in that case. All I know is that I would tell Steve and we’d work through it together, I wouldn’t pursue anything with Bucky even despite.”

Nat accepted your answer and she could tell that you were stressed so she moved onto other topics like her and Bruce’s date that night, “I think I’ve picked my outfit. A simple black dress and heels can never go wrong, can it?”

“Nat, you could were a garbage bag and look phenomenal so whatever you wear will be amazing and you know that Bruce will be speechless regardless!” The two of you chatted for a while longer before Nat had to go get dressed for her date, “Let me know how it goes!” You said before hanging up.

It wasn’t long before Steve came home. You were in the middle of making some pasta for dinner when he came home, wrapping his arms around you from behind and kissing your shoulder softly, “Hey, sweetheart,” he whispered against your skin.

You relaxed into his touch, “I missed you,” you murmured as he peppered soft kisses along your shoulder to your neck, “How did everything go?”

“It was fine,” he said, planting one last kiss on your shoulder before breaking away, “Awkward at first but I told Bucky that it’s okay, I trust the two of you and if anything was to happen, feelings wise, then I know that you’d both tell me.” You nodded as he spoke, mixing the pasta as a way to distract yourself from getting upset, “Bucky felt terrible, it made me understand a little more how you felt - or how you feel rather. I’m sorry if I was rude or harsh with you earlier. It came as a massive shock and I know you can’t control it. I forgive you for lying, I know that you thought you were doing the right thing-”

Stirring pasta to distract yourself from crying didn’t help at all and instead you threw yourself into his arms, “Oh, Steve!” You wept onto his shoulder, “I don’t deserve you!”

Quickly bundling you into his arms, Steve hugged you tightly. He hugged you so tightly and pressed a soft kiss to your head, “What are you talking about, sweetheart? It’s okay, just take a breath.”

You sniffed and took a few breaths, “I just... You’re so kind, Steve, I feel like I don’t deserve it.”

He chuckled and shook his head, pulling you away to arms length. He looked at you, looked at your teary eyes and your pouting lips, “Sweetheart, you know how I know you love me?” You shook your head, “I look at you right now, so guilt ridden over something you can’t control, you thought you were protecting me and I’ve already forgiven you and you’re still upset. You care so deeply about me and it is so apparent in everything you do. I know that you love me and therefore, I know that you wouldn’t do anything to break my trust.”

You sniffed as Steve’s hands wiped away your tears, “I love you,” you sniffled, “I don’t know if I’ll ever stop feeling guilty.”

Steve caressed your face softly, “It’s okay, sweetheart, you have nothing to feel guilty for anymore. I love you.”

“You promise?”

Steve smiled as he moved in closer to your lips, “I promise you, love.” He kissed you softly and you instantly relaxed into his kiss. He held you tightly and soon, the kiss quickened and became much more hungry that it had been. It wasn’t long before you were turning off the stove and attaching to his lips again as you both stumbled towards the bedroom. Your hands gripped his biceps as his hands held onto your hips tightly, groping your sides and your stomach. Steve loved your stomach, he loved your curves even if you hated them. It wasn’t long before the two of you had fallen into bed, falling into the blissful vortex of love.

You woke up on Steve’s chest. You lay there for a few minutes before sighing and rubbing your eyes. Carefully, you moved out of Steve’s arms and sat up, you pulled on your t-shirt which had been discarded during earlier before grabbing your phone and leaving the bedroom. You padded out to the kitchen to get a glass of water. The guilt wasn’t as strong as it had been now, you felt a lot better thanks to Steve... he really did know how to make everything better and make you forget about everything. He had forgiven you, now you just had to forgive yourself.

Tapping your phone, you read the time. 3.42am. You saw a text from Nat from around midnight which read; Date went great. Awkward at first but quickly got over that. Surprising thing? Didn’t even talk about work once! Call me tomorrow and we’ll chat. Hope everything’s okay. You’d call her tomorrow, catch up and hear how her date went. You hoped that she would be happy with Bruce, they were soulmates though hesitant ones. She deserved to be happy after a life time of unhappiness and torment.

With a sigh, you grabbed a glass and filled it with water, taking a sip as you leaned against the counter. Usually, you’d take the glass of water to bed in case you woke through the night but something made you stay in the kitchen, silently sipping water and staring at your phone. One minute passed then another then another and as you went to grab your phone, it lit up and began to buzz.

You stopped, staring at it with wide eyes, “That wasn’t freaky at all...”

Unknown Caller flashed on the screen as it vibrated on the counter. You never answered unknown callers or numbers you didn’t have saved already, knowing that they’d mainly be junk or spam calls but something pulled you to answer this call; something deep within you awoke and forced your hand to pick up the call, press the green button onscreen and press it to your ear, “Hello?” Your voice was quiet, careful not to be too loud.

A long puff of breath came from the other end, “I didn’t think you’d actually pick up.” You knew that voice.

The shock almost made you drop the glass of water, “Who is this?”

He chuckled from the other end, “C’mon, doll, you already-”

“Bucky,” you hissed, “don’t call me that.”

He stopped laughing immediately, “I’m sorry, it’s, uh, an old habit, I suppose. I shouldn’t have called, I-”

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose; it was harmless. “Bucky,” your voice was softer and much kinder, “Why are you calling me? Why this late?”

“I couldn’t sleep, the nightmares seem to be in full force since I’m stressed,” he didn’t know why he told you that, usually it was always a vague answer but he felt comfortable to tell you. It freaked him out a little that you were still strangers yet he found himself calling you at three in the morning, telling you things that he wouldn’t usually tell people, “To be honest, I don’t know why I called you.”

You were quiet for a moment as you tried to process what was happening. Should’ve ignored the call, “How did you get my number?”

“Steve gave it to me months back. He said that if I couldn’t reach him or anyone on the team, to contact you. I saved your number thinking I’d never need it. He said that he’d give you my number as well just in case.” There was a vague memory of Steve taking your phone and inputting a number for ‘just in case purposes’, to be fair, you hadn’t really listened but you could only assume it was Bucky’s number, “Do you want me to hang up? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything.”

“It’s okay,” you said, taking another sip of water, “I was up anyway. Just know, Bucky, that me and Steve we... we sorted everything out so-”

“Yeah, I know,” he said cutting over you, “Listen, (y/n), I’m not trying to get in between the two of you. I know how complicated all of this and I’m not trying to upset either of you or mess with you or anything. I know that sounds really convincing especially since I’m calling you at three in the morning but...”

You laughed slightly, a real genuine laugh, “Yeah, your case isn’t looking so good here,” you teased quietly. Bucky laughed too, instantly feeling a lot more comfortable now that the awkwardness had been broken slightly. It felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, that he could relax now and just talk.

“I just wanted to make sure things were okay. I know we agreed to not really see each other or whatever but today was hard, even harder on you I bet so I thought I’d check in with you and see how you’re doing.” It touched you that he had reached out, although you still thought 3am was a little sketchy to call at , you knew about his insomnia and his nightmares.

“I’m okay. After you left, Steve and I spoke about things and then he went to see you. When he came home, we put everything to bed-” literally, “-so yeah. I’m doing okay. How are you? You mentioned you were stressed?” Honestly, you didn’t know why you were carrying on the conversation, you knew that this would further complicate things but what harm was a phone call; it wasn’t as though you had feelings for Bucky.

“Stressed about the whole situation, I’m sure you understand,” you hummed in agreement, “but Steve reassured me that everything’s fine. He said it was up to us what happened whether we saw each other or avoided each other or share Steve on a joint custody basis.”

You laughed. Turns out Steve hadn’t been lying when he said Bucky was the funniest person he knew, he had a dry sense of humour, a sarcastic nature that toed the line with arrogance, “I’ll tell you what I told Steve this afternoon. I don’t really know where my head’s at honestly. I said to Steve that it would be better for me if we were to keep our distance just until the dust settles, you know?”

Bucky smiles, a sad smile, “Yeah, I get that... I’ll keep my distance.”

“I don’t want you to take it personally or think that I don’t want you around,” you said quickly, “I just... I gotta put my relationship first, Bucky; I have to put Steve first.”

“Don’t worry, I understand,” he says quietly, “I totally understand.” It confuses him as to why that hurts him. Maybe it’s for a reason that he doesn’t want to admit yet or even think about. He puts it down to being stressed.

Things are silent for a few seconds and you take that as your signal to end the conversation, “It’s late and I should probably go back to bed...”

“(y/n)?” Bucky asks. You respond with a ‘yeah?’, “Would you do me favour just one? Would you stay on the line a few more minutes? I...” He doesn’t know how to tell you that you’re the first thing to make him feel a sense of peace and calm since the 40s without being too forward so he chooses to not tell you.

“Sure,” you say, realising that this man is very much still trying to heal; he was a soldier then a weapon against his will and now he was dealing with the consequences. To make matters worse, he’d found his soulmate, probably the one person that would make everything better and they just so happen to be in a long term committed relationship to his best friend. Luck was not a friend of James Barnes.

You hear him shuffling and you can tell that he’s trying to get comfortable as he pulls his sheets around him, “You know,” you say softly, “something that always gets me to sleep is audiobooks or podcasts.”

“What’s that?” Bucky asks. It’s easy to forget that he comes from a different time than you.

“An audiobook is a recording of someone reading a book. A podcast is a recording of people chatting, some talk about games or movies, others talk about current events. Give it a try. I don’t know about nightmares or PTSD or anything like what you’re dealing with but it might help a little bit.”

He smiles, “Thanks, I’ll try it out.”

“I really should go, Bucky... Are you gonna be okay?”

“Ah, don’t worry about me!” He teases with a chuckle, “I’ll be fine, don’t worry.” You don’t know if he’s trying to convince you or himself; neither of you believe him anyway, “I’ll give an audiobook a listen and see if it helps any... For what it’s worth, (y/n), I’m glad you’re with Steve. You mean a lot to each other and I’m glad you’re both happy.”

“Goodnight, Bucky.”

“Night, (y/n).”

You put the phone on the counter, checking the time; 4.17am. You’d been speaking to Bucky for around half an hour. Time flies, eh? You take the glass and walk into your bedroom, leaving your phone in the kitchen. There would be no more interruptions tonight.

Steve’s in the same position as when you left him. Slowly, you slide into bed after placing the glass on the beside cabinet and lift his arm over you again. He scoots closer to you, pulling you flush against him and wrapping his arm around you a little tighter. You would tell Steve about the phone call in the morning, there was nothing to hide with it, and it would be okay. You loved Steve and that was it; you had drawn the line with Bucky, telling him that Steve was your priority and that you’d rather not be around him until things were fully settled. You felt better as you closed your eyes. It wasn’t long before you were falling asleep the sound of Steve’s breathing.

#life without colour #lwc #reader insert #marvel series #steve rogers/reader/bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x plus size reader #bucky barnes #steve rogers x plus size reader #steve rogers x reader #plus size reader #plus size #marvel #avengers

255 notes · View notes

mollymauktealeef · 3 years

Note

uhm, for your prompts: geraskier, with jaskier hiding geralt (and maybe ciri) from nilfgaard in plain sight, like. without magic, he manages to make the soldiers go away with empty hands? thank you!

sorry this took longer than expected! i haven’t been feeling very well recently so it got left alone for a while. hope you like it though!

warning/s: none

(ao3)

“You there!”

“Oh fuck,” Jaskier mutters sharply recognising the no nonsense tone of a solider and feeling the dread settle in his gut like a block of ice.

Geralt’s fingers twitch at his side, his swords are sadly tucked away under Roach’s blanket just under Ciri’s leg for safekeeping as she sits astride the saddle.

They’d been reluctantly placed there - at Jaskier’s suggestion - so they could move through town unhindered by locals looking for a Witcher’s aid or at least so the trio could draw a little less attention than they normally would. Something they might have gotten away with if Geralt hadn’t been sour about hiding his swords so much he’d childishly left down his hood. Revealing his rather distinctive and famous white hair for all the land to see.

And now there are soldiers.

So the idea of going incognito had clearly failed in it’s execution and now Geralt is without his weapons in easy reach as the squelch of many heavy boots marching through the mud approach them from behind.

Jaskier watches out of the corner of his eye as Geralt’s hand releases the reins for Roach’s bridle and skims along her flank to the hidden pommel slowly. Jaskier shakes his head in warning and thankfully the Witcher listens, stilling his hand.

The last thing they need is more attention and Geralt beheading the local guardsmen would be like sending up a flare for Nilfgaard.

Jaskier chews on his lip, racking his brain for a way out of their predicament. He see’s Geralt’s hand move again, not for the swords this time but to rest on Ciri’s shaking knee in comfort. The princess huddles under her cloak, shrinking away from the danger approaching them and Jaskier’s heart aches for her. The lingering trauma of being hunted has left a stain on the once happy princess that Jaskier and Geralt have tried their best to erase. But situations like these always undo that hard work in moments.

Jaskier sighs at the loss of progress shrinking deeper into the folds of her cloak and decides on a course of action, one that might just avoid darkening that stain on Ciri’s heart.

“Oi! You deaf?” Another voice yells and Jaskier straightens his spine and prepares to dazzle his audience into submission.

He spins round dramatically, plastering a wide happy grin across his face. It’s not his most eye-catching outfit but he should be able to draw attention away from the Witcher and his child surprise well enough. Presentation is key for misdirection after all.

Jaskier glances over the small patrol quickly, filing away the small details that he can use to his advantage. Just like any other ballroom or tavern he’s stepped foot in. Reading the room is how you own it and Jaskier wouldn’t be a famous bard if he couldn’t quickly and effectively discern the lay of the land. A loud tavern full of boisterous laughter needs dance music and bawdy songs, a noble wedding with dignified guests needs jaunty jigs with easy beats to dance to and when enough wine has been drunk, a few romantic epics to get everyone in the mood. The stage is a little different but the details are the same.

He silently curses as he recognises the dark armour and golden sun stretching across it and prays to whatever deity likes Geralt in one piece in the vain hope that things will go smoothly. But for now, it's up to him and every skill he’s honed at every banquet and party he’s ever been to, to get them through this peacefully.

“Fine gentlemen, what can I aid such noble soldiers with today?” he greets loudly as he skips forward putting himself between the approaching soldiers and Geralt. A few of the men flinch at his volume. Jaskier notes the overly red cheeks and bloodshot eyes, the slight sway in their stance. Too much patrolling the tavern rather than the streets and very recently too.

He has to play this right. Be loud and obnoxious and they’ll want to get rid of him quickly to ease their aching heads. Too much though and he runs the risk of raising questions. It’ll be a fine line to tread, a thin tightrope between freedom and a noose but it’s something he’s managed before and for far lesser stakes.

“Your friend, where does he hail from?” The Captain asks shrewdly, eyeing Geralt’s exposed white hair with narrowed eyes. Jaskier rocks on his heels full of nervous energy.

“My cousin you mean? Well he and his daughter come from Lettenhove of course! As do I,” Jaskier bows deeply, throwing as much theatricality into his performance as possible, “Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove. A pleasure to meet you, good sir!”

He doesn’t often drag out his nobility but the situation calls for it. Perhaps enough for the men to back off, in fear of upsetting nobility.

“And your...cousin’s white hair? A familial trait?” The captain asks skeptically. His title isn’t enough to brush away their questions but there is a touch more hesitancy than before so Jaskier counts it in his favour. He still grimaces a little and racks his brain for a plausible lie to help them escape the situation with as little screaming and entrails as possible. Tiny streams in deep forests are not ideal for removing Nilfgaardian guts from a Witcher’s hair after all and after this fiasco getting Geralt to agree to enter any form of civilisation will be a nightmare.

So Jaskier does what he does best.

He tells a story.

He lets his face drop into a more serious expression and sidles up closer, a little too close for comfort, for a not so much conspiratorial whisper, “No, no, my good sir. Not at all. You see, it's such a terrible thing. Truly terrible. A curse.”

At least two of the men take an involuntary step back as though such a thing could be catching. Good, Jaskier thinks snidely, superstitious morons swallow a lie father easier than a wise man.

“Twas laid upon him by a spiteful sorceress. He’s quite sensitive over the whole thing as I’m sure you can imagine,” Jaskier placed a hand over his heart as he hammed up the performance a degree or two, “My poor dear sweet cousin spurned the witches advances you see, his heart already belonged to another. Fiona’s mother, she hailed from Nilfgaard, such a sweet woman. Not that it mattered to the spiteful witch! The sorceress was quite enraged by it all and so cursed my poor cousin to bear the likeness of the ugliest creature she knew, a Witcher.”

Jaskier winces internally and sends a silent apology to Geralt and hopes the man won’t take too much offence but there’s no other option for them.

“How unfortunate,” one of the men comments in a heartfelt manner and Jaskier dabs at his dry eye in agreement.

“Yes it is and such happenstance that we should be looking for a Witcher,” the Captain says, unconvinced. But Jaskier has the rest of his audience on tenterhooks and a crowd can sway a single mind.

He scoff’s loudly and slams his hands onto his hips.

“Nothing but trouble I say, for we’ve been stopped by every knight and good soldier from here to the Pontar! It’s made our journey to Oxenfurt doubly long and I’m due to begin teaching next week! The delay!” Jaskier wails dramatically and the men collectively wince at his volume and shrillness, “Thankfully with my tenured position the faculty will be most forgiving of my lateness! But truly it has been nothing but trouble!”

“Hmm,” the Captain wavers and Jaskier pushes his advantage, leaning in a touch too far again.

“I shall tell you good sir the best way to tell a Witcher from my unfortunate cousin is the swords, for Witcher’s carry two on their backs and my dear sweet cousin can only swing a pitchfork!”

“Viscount’s right Captain, no swords,” one of the men speaks up and they all turn to look at Geralt’s back, covered in a muddy cape but bereft of the notable twin swords.

“He could have thrown them,” the Captain suggests but quietly, not fully believing his own words and Jaskier tries not to let his relief show.

“Thrown them?! Why my dear Captain, that would be a waste of fine silver and steel! Who in their right mind would throw away a silver sword! Pah! A fool, that’s who!”

The Captain ruminates for a few moments and then nods, “Right you are, carry on m’lord.”

Jaskier’s knees feel a little weak as the men shuffle round and begin their march back up the street they came. He waves them off jauntily despite the nausea swirling in his gut.

“Many blessings to you and safe journey my good men!”

As soon as the men are out of sight Jaskier stumbles as the relief falls on him like a ton of bricks. Geralt grips his bicep, pulling him back up as he stares down the street after the patrol.

“Gone?” Jaskier asks and Geralt nods.

“Thank Melitele,” Jaskier exhales and drops his head against Geralt’s shoulder heavily.

“Ugliest creatures?” Geralt asks and Jaskier groans.

“Darling I apologise wholeheartedly for such a lie but how else was I to excuse your appearance?”

Geralt snorts, thankfully with more amusement than anger, “Good thinking.”

“Thank you love but might I suggest putting several fields between us and them before more questions are asked?” Jaskier points out and Geralt wraps an arm around Jaskier’s shoulders, squeezing him close for a moment before letting him stand on his own steadying legs.

Geralt takes Roach’s reins once more as Jaskier falls into step next to him, he spares a glance over his shoulder at the near empty street behind them and hopes they can put enough road between the patrol and them before nightfall to breathe a little easier.

“Are you really a viscount Jaskier?” Ciri questions quietly, hunched over under her heavy cape atop Roach. Jaskier startles at the sudden question but settles into a sardonic smile.

“Unfortunately so my darling, though the title does have its uses here and there.”

Ciri thankfully doesn’t press the issue as she flicks her gaze over her shoulder worridily. More concerned with the soldiers than his checkered past.

“I didn’t think they’d leave so easily,” she mumbles and Jaskier reaches over to pat her leg softly.

“Fear not my dear, they were easy to fool and won’t be following us anytime soon.”

“How can you be so sure?” Ciri asks, her tone skeptical and a little sharp. A princess on the run yes, but still a princess and one growing from a child into a woman and not shy about demanding she be treated as such. Jaskier chuckles.

“Simple. I saw all I needed to, to lead them astray. I’ll teach you how to read men like open books soon enough darling,” Jaskier winks and Ciri worried at her bottom lip for a few quiet moments.

“Teach me now?”

Jaskier shares a glance with Geralt, raising an eyebrow up in question and Geralt simply nods his permission. Well if his Witcher is okay with it then who is he to argue giving the young exiled princess another knife in her growing arsenal.

“Very well, what did you notice about them?”

She ponders for a moment, “There weren’t that many?” Ciri offers hesitantly. Jaskier beams encouragingly.

“Well spotted! A small patrol left in an unremarkable town. Tells us quite a bit. These fools aren’t high on the pecking order. They aren’t given more responsibility or better yet aren’t trusted with more,” Jaskier explains and Ciri leans forward in rapt attention. “What else could you see?”

“They hesitated,” Geralt says and Jaskier turns his attention on the Witcher’s soft smile.

“Very good my love,” Jaskier pecks Geralt’s cheek in reward, earning a giggle from Ciri.

“That matters?” she asks.

“Indeed, a lack of confidence speaks to their inexperience or perhaps they’ve acted hastily in the past and been reprimanded making them hesitant to act similarly again,” Jaskier explains, falling into his old teaching habits easily.

“What else did you see,” Ciri questions curiously and Jaskier hums thoughtfully.

“Dented armour that hasn’t yet been fixed, means coin is tight or flowing elsewhere. Mud caked into clothes and bulging chest plates. These men have become lazy and spend more nights in a tavern than marching around town. Ruddy cheeks and bloodshot eyes tell me they enjoy their drink, a bit too much most likely. Given the hour it was either a heavy night of drinking with a spectacular hangover or they’ve just come from the tavern. Whichever it is, their minds and body long for beds not battle and that my fair girl is where you can take advantage,” Jaskier lists and Ciri looks suitably impressed with his observations.

“Enough to confuse them?”

“Perhaps enough to lose them in a winding tale with dramatic flair,” Jaskier shrugs, remembering many a glazed drunken gaze and how he used it to his advantage in the past.

“The loudness helped too,” Geralt offers slyly and Ciri laughs as Jaskier pretends to take offence though he preens at the small but fond smile on his Witcher’s face and the ease settling around Ciri’s shoulders once more.

“Nothing makes a drunken soldier recoil quicker than a loud bright bard,” Jaskier winks.

#the witcher #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #jaskier x geralt #geraskier fanfic #jask writes #nessie

91 notes · View notes

damn-stark · 3 years

Text

ilomilo

Reiner x reader

Requested by anon “Hi.. 👉👈 May I request on reiner x reader where they both fall in love with each other, but they somehow denied their feelings? Sorry its a bit weird but thank you in advance!”

Warning- ANGST, FLUFF, swearing and talks of violence, death and contemplating life

———-

You were kids. Young little children who didn’t know the meaning behind the word love. Maybe even now as teenagers, you both were still too young to know what that word meant. Or how it should feel, what it even looked like.

What was love, really? That’s the real question.

How can something so pivotal such as love be so confusing?

What was certain was that no matter what, neither of you wanted to be apart from each other. That was such a dreadful thought. It hurt to think he could leave forever and never return. With what you were doing, that was a high possibility, with him being hurt, even if you both could heal, it still hurt to think he could die and that you’d be alone.

Was that love?

No.

“Reiner you’re up,” you say with a relieved smile pulling on your lips. “How are you feeling?”

Said man pushes himself off the edge of his small bed and nods, releasing a soft sigh as his eyes searched your own body for wounds. “I’m feeling better, what about you?”

“I’m all healed now, so I’m okay,” you assure him, smiling sweetly at him but soon feeling that smile fall as your face twisted into a long and somber look. “It’s just...we couldn’t recover Bertholdt,” your voice quivers and your eyes sting. “I tried, I really tried getting him, but I couldn’t, I’m sorry.”

Reiners breath hitches and the expression on his own face matches yours, but he doesn’t hesitate to go to you to wrap you in a tight and much needed embrace. One you returned with ease as you secure your arms around his body and dig your head into his chest. “It’s okay. It’s alright,” he muttered as he stroked your back. “It’s alright.” He whispered.

Was this love? Reiner asked himself as he had you in his arms. This relief he felt deep in his soul when he saw you enter his room on the boat ride home. The fluttering feeling in his stomach as you found solace in his embrace and presence. The heart pounding feeling in his chest as he had you safely in his arms?

No.

*A COUPLE YEARS AGO*

“Hey leave him alone you assholes!” You exclaimed as you hurled rocks at the boys picking at Reiner. “Leave him alone!”

You continued to run towards the group of boys as you proceeded to throw rocks, noticing the short relieved look Reiner had on his face as he looked at you over their shoulders.

“Go away!” You continue with sneer, seeing the four boys turn around and show you their glowering faces. “Leave Reiner alone, he’s done nothing to you!”

“He deserves to be taught that he doesn’t belong in the Warrior program!” One of the boys remarks smugly, “he sucks!” He looks at Reiner and snickers. “See he’s trembling even now. He’s weak. Just like you.”

Your glare deepens and you scoff, catching the rock in your hand that you had thrown in the air. “The only weak people I see are all of you for ganging up on Reiner. Just you wait, when we become Titan shifters, you’ll be the ones trembling.”

You get ready to throw yet another rock, (a sucky attempt to fight them), but as you do, Reiner sprints forward to tackle the tallest boy to ground, swinging his fists over the boys face and angrily snapping back, “leave her alone.”

Reiner then doesn’t hesitate to get up before things could get worse, running towards you to take your hand and pull you with him as you both run away from the bullies you heard chasing after you.

You both maneuvered past people walking the streets, hearing them protest back to the both of you as you ran past them. But you didn’t let that stop either of you. You kept running until you made sure you had lost the bullies, stopping only a few minutes later and hiding away in some alleyway you happened to stumble in.

“Are you okay? You pant as you kept your hand around his. “Did they hurt you?”

Said boy shakes his head, breathing heavily and double checking that they weren’t after you to begin to catch his breath, sliding down to the ground with you still in hand. “No,” he assured you, “they didn’t get to hurt me. You got there in time.” He turns his head to look at you and he smiles sweetly. “Thank you.”

You turn your own head and answer with a mirrored smile as you slowly recover your own breath.

“How did you find me?” Reiner continues to ask.

You shrug, “my parents weren’t home so I went to your house, but your mom said you were outside. So I went to look for you. I heard them yelling and I had to check it out just in case.”

“Oh,” Reiner mouths as he looks away. “Well,” he continues to say, “I’m glad you came.”

You let out a nervous, breathless giggle and look away to hide your flustered smile and ask, “yeah?”

Reiner hides his blush and nods, “yeah.”

——

*YEARS LATER. MARLEY*

No matter how Marley treated you, “your kind”, it was a relief being home after being gone for so long. And perhaps it was true that there was no real peace being home considering you were a warrior, a Titan shifter. It came with a responsibility and had you busy for most of your time, unable to live the remainder of the time you had left the way you wanted; a peaceful life somewhere close to the ocean, or surrounded by the beauty of trees with...well...with one person.

“How did it go?” And as if thinking of that person had someone summoned him...here he was.

You peek over your shoulder to look at Reiner, letting out a small huff before you shrug and drop your head on your hands. “Same as always, arguing...my parents only appreciated that I gave them a higher status here, but that’s it.” You tilt your head up to rest your chin on your arm, peeking at Reiner coming up beside you from the corner of your eyes. “I think they would’ve preferred if I had stayed fighting that war.”

“Well, you could’ve come to my house,” Reiner says quietly, “you know my mother loves having you there.”

You laugh softly and smile before you look at the lake ahead to admire the stars that reflect on the water's surface. “Your mom is nice. A lot nicer than mine.” You sigh and look up at the stars to slowly feel your smile fall to a frown.

When Reiner noticed he pushed himself from the railing you both were leaning on and pointed his head to the grassy hill ahead. “Come on, let's go sit.”

Without hesitation, and with a small sigh, you follow him to the grassy hill, sitting close beside him and resting your hands on the ground as you watch the stars dancing on the water. Reiner notices your exhausted and gloomy mood, one that was so persistent since you returned from Paradis four years ago. He did notice that you would light up when you were with the kids, or with your friends, with him, but that happy look never lasted. The girl you had been before died in Paradis, after you couldn’t recover Bertholdt.

Reiner couldn’t help but notice that and it killed him to see you so upset. He would do anything to keep you happy. That’s all he wanted. You were only the person that gave him a reason to keep living in this shitty world….you were his reason to fight.

Was that love?

….no. Maybe.

“What did you do today?” He broke the silence.

You began tearing the grass from under your hand as you answered him. “I went to visit Bertholdt's dad, helped him around the house and I had dinner with him after I stormed from home.” You look at your hand and then let your eyes slowly drag to the side to look at his resting beside yours. “What about you?” You ask as you then drag your eyes up to his face.

“Nothing much, it feels weird being home after being gone long.”

You express a lighthearted huff of air and nod in agreement before you throw your head on his shoulder. “But at least we're home! It feels nice being home.”

“Yeah,” Reiner agrees as he, unbeknownst to you, looks at you as you rested your head on his shoulder. “It does.”

“You know,” you mutter as you slowly inch your fingers to his. “What would be nicer? If we ran away together. Live the remainder of our lives by the ocean, or in some forest. It could be in Paradis, that place is so big, they wouldn't find us.” You swallow thickly and completely secure your hold around the warmth of his hand, seeing his hand slowly wrap around yours before he rested his head on top of yours. “It may not be home, but I wouldn't mind being over there if you’re with me.” You smile softly and again you look at the stars beautifully reflected on the water.

“Where would we live?” Reiner asked.

You shrug, “we could make a cabin. A small one, by a river so we can have running water.”

Even if the suggestion was unexpected, it sounded ideal, like a nice dream. It sounded tempting. And he knew, like you did, that with the right word you’d both be willing to do it. You’d both leave everything behind and live what was left of your life secluded and together.

Reiner couldn’t help but smile faintly at that thought.

“What would we do for food?” He continued.

“Well,” you smile, “we could hunt, I like to think I’m a great hunter. And we can take seeds from here to grow our fruits and vegetables. We would raise pigs and cows.”

Reiner stays quiet, and feels himself more tempted by the idea.

“I think we’d make nice farmers,” you snicker as you pull your head from his shoulder to meet his gaze. “What do you think? Hmm? Would you run away with me Reiner?”

Said man meets your gaze and his breath hitches as he sees the genuine happiness, the softness behind your eyes. It felt like a relief seeing you like this. It made his heart race and his lips tug into a happier smile. It made his eyes fall to your lips to try and give into this heart aching temptation to finally get to know how they felt against his.

Just like you were filled with your own curiosity to finally feel his lips.

But neither of you made a move. Instead Reiner swallowed thickly and looked to the lake to admire the reflection of the stars painted on the surface. He shifted in his spot, but kept his hand around yours whilst he parted his lips to attempt and answer you.

Albeit he didn’t get the chance before Pieck and Porco interrupted your moment.

However you couldn’t help but keep thinking if this was love? The dream and plans to run away with no one else but one another. The thought of a future together?

Maybe.

109 notes · View notes

rumblelibrary · 3 years

Note

Might we get some Sebastian Zollner soft smut 👀 maybe even like young him when he was still trying to do his own painting and you were his nude model

The Artist and his Muse [Sebastian Zöllner x his Muse]

Word count: 3k

Warnings: Smut, bit pf fem!dom and a mess of a man

A/N: As usual Sebastian is my weakest spot. The painting here is "In the Tepidarium" by Sir Lawrence Alma-Tadema.

You stood there quietly, a sense of expectation taking over you when he opened the door at you. You noticed him from day one and now you had to wrap the situation between the two of you.

"There you are"

He only said letting you inside, a second voice greeting you.

"Hey! Seb is that your girlfriend?"

He waved at his flatmate to shut up as he put an hand on your lower back pushing you to get out of that situation fast.

As you got into his tiny room it was a mess.

The space was small, scattered art books and biographies of great artists everywhere on the floor, on the big inclined drawing desk, one of those like architects had. Then drawings, drawings everywhere from the floor to the walls, from over the bed to every visible corner of the room.

Also mugs, ashtrays filled up everywhere, more mugs used as ashtrays and some leftover food also used as ashtray.

The place would have been grey and dull if it wasn't so chaotic and full of colours.

You also noticed from the big amount of duvets over the bed that the place was cold.

"Get your stuff here"

He said moving his, hopefully clean, clothes off a chair so you could lean your stuff there.

"Thank you for coming" he added briefly and you smiled.

"Thank you for inviting me"

It wasn't like you had much choice, you posed for the art academy, but some extra money was always nice and he daunted you for weeks by now, so in the end you said yes.

"So, let's begin or do you need anything?"

"Some water would be nice" you said as he nodded taking a glass full of dirty water, probably used to get wet the brushes, and going away. You heard him throw it away and briefly wash it before coming back to you with the glass full of water and still half dirty.

You smiled as you took it taking a sip only to be polite putting it back on side.

"Now please" he gestured something, he did a lot of hand gestures and a lot of waving like he was constantly trying to get rid of some smoke surrounding him.

"Get naked" he concluded and you nodded quietly undoing your dress as he looked away to look trough some of all those sketches he had around the room finally showing you a sketch of a standing naked figure, he clearly had some ideas for the background and it was quite classic as structure.

"You can hold this" he said handing you a ball "hold it low, around here" he said pressing the ball over your lower stomach.

"You know ,like a fortune teller" he said before giving you his back to prepare the easel and put on the canvas. You notice he sketched the back of it, so he probably didn't have all of that money. The chances to be paid becoming small by minute, but you were here and he was awkward enough to intimidate you a bit.

You put the ball down and proceeded to undress, you folded your clothing over the chair he freed for you and piled them neatly before picking the ball again.

"ruffle your hair, I need a kind of unkept vibe"

you nodded as you held the ball under your arm and with one hand you ruffled your hair standing nicely in place as you put the ball back to its position.

He stared at you as he leaned on side, he jerked his hand blindly on side to turn on the small radio to some low indie pop channel.

You took your time to observe him as you stared in front of you.

He had longish hair and he tied them up into an half bun, a soft beard. He wore a used t-shirt from the band The Smiths already stained with colour and some blue pants that must be his kind of working from home uniform.

He was barefoot and you noticed he bowed his feet inward as he got pensive, like a way to get extra relaxed.

He was cute, you had to admit it. He was also the first in line most of the time during real life drawing lessons, you could tell he was striving for it but he didn't take well criticism. He would glare and frown at every critic, nag at his bottom lip as he resumed his sketching every time with more passion.

It was always weird to go and see a student on your own. When you were working at the academy it was easy because you had a clear shift and pauses, while when working with artists alone you always had to give in some time.

"Relax your shoulders"

You blinked like his words woke you up and you took a deep breath resuming your position.

"It is a study for a classical image, you know something like Alma Tadema works, only modern" you smiled as you liked that painter and you nodded.

Silence took over as he observed you and disappeared behind the canvas. He was nervous from the moment you agreed to meet him alone. he felt like a creep because he always had a bit of a crush on you and he was upset when for a reason or another you were not the model on certain days. You were everything he liked, every proportion of your body was the ideal he had as an artist.

He sketched your shape as for once he had all the time, no change of position, nobody calling it too difficult or interrupting the moment.

He huffed softly as he got too excited awaiting for this moment he couldn't sleep at night and he even cleaned up his room. Well, you could tell he tried.

He observed every detail of you: from the way you had little moles scattered on your body that he never noticed before to the way your collarbone met deliciously under your neck, how your shoulders drifted up every now and then to unease the tension from the lack of movement. He bit on the inside of your cheek as he sketched the navel of your hips, the delicious curve where so many times he imagined to bury his head into, to be kept safe from the welcoming world of your female form, the origin of the world of erotica.

He frowned as you moved to take a sip of water, he looked at the time, 30 minutes already gone?

He stared down to the canvas as he had to focus, focus focus.

"Seb?? Do you have my lighter??"

A male voice that you guessed belonged to his flatmate shouted and he picked a cigarette

"NO" he shouted louder as the other guy groaned from behind the door, you smirked as you watched him light up his cigarette with a metal lighter and blow some smoke.

He resumed his sketching and you relaxed after some time, your eyes darting away as you barely saw him beside the smoke raising from behind the canvas.

"SEB"

Another shout interrupting but this time it was another flatmate that just bounced the door open. You gulped in surprise as you didn't have anything at hand to cover yourself

"What shit is this? What kind of pervert are you?"

The guy asked as Sebastian thew the pencil at him.

"Fuck you" he shouted "get the fuck out, out!" he jumped off his seat throwing the lit cigarette at him. And that’s why you hated to go to people's houses. Other that don't study art looked at you like that, like something dirt ,like a naked woman.

You sighed as you moved toward the bed covering yourself with one of the countless duvets scattered in the room, it was warm and soft at least. You looked away trying to zone out from the little fight going on between Sebastian and his the other guy.

"Sorry"

He said as he locked the door and pushed the drawer in front of it huffing and panting as he came to you showing with a gesture of his hand your way back to that position.

"No, look it is better if I leave, if you want to do it a private session let's do it at the school" you said as you got enough of that place and his flatmates and you also realised that if he lived in that chaos he probably didn't have the money to book the room and also pay you.

"no, no, no, no" he repeated as he moved after you as you marched to collect your belonging.

"please, they are just idiots" he said as he looked like he was ready to have a panic attack.

"I can see that myself, so that's better to end it now"

"no, no you don't understand"

You chuckled as you looked at him "don't understand what? the power of art?" you inquired as you had heard all sorts of excuses about it.

"I need you"

He said helplessly as your frowned and looked away as he gabbed you by your duvet yanking you back a little.

“I don’t work with other models, I can’t process it, when you’re there I am productive, I work and overwork, and my head is full of ideas, of hopes and more and more ideas, I can see things in perspective, I can feel it, it is like a raging fire and I need you t make it start, just please, just listen to me”

You tried to focus onto what was around you and there's when you noticed that from this new perspective you saw the sketch.

You moved closer to it as you admired how delicate was Sebastian's hand, he made little traits, quick slashes that made your figure look like you had never seen yourself before and you had actually seen a lot of sketches of yourself, so many pointing out unflattering things about your body that you tried to avoid having a look at those sketches.

"it is rough, don't" he said as he still held you by the duvet but he noticed you look up at the canvas.

He had never been this close to you. You smelled like fresh flowers and soft creamy after bath lotion, one of those that say your skin will be like honey and milk. He was sure you tasted like it.

He gulped down nervously as now this was widely unprofessional and he would have given all he had to avoid this moment and yet he daydreamed of it for so long while watching you getting dressed after the lesson.

"I apologise, I swear, I never.. I mean I know this is not the best place but I never felt like I do with you before and I didn’t want to screw it up on the first time”

You didn't really had the time to answer as he clashed his lips over yours grabbing the sides of your face with his hands and it was so desperate like he was about to break down.

You pushed him off as he frowned visibly. He looked so taken aback and saddened now.

You almost chuckled to his face as he looked like a pup that got smacked in the muzzle for biting onto something pricy.

You tugged him by his shirt still wrapped up in that duvet pushing him to sit down.

He opened his mouth but nothing came out of it when you moved to straddle him.

"Stay still"

You said as you moved your hand to his jaw making him close his mouth, he stared at you as you brushed you lips against his, he looked at you intensely before closing his eyes and letting you guide him into that kiss. He let out a soft sound as you showed him what kisses are made for, not that fearful rushed slamming from his mouth to yours.

"You're a goddess" he whispered softly as he leaned for another kiss. He pulled onto that duvet now hungry for more.

"Calm down, don't rush so much" you whispered as he almost didn't know what to do with himself. He was hard already, he was desperate for you that colonised his dreams for so long.

"Damn" he groaned as you lowered your hips against his. He stared at you panting softly as you started grinding against him, the fabric of his joggers was soft but you would have endured some itchy feeling just for the way he trembled and groaned from the friction you gifted. You were sure his boxers must be filled with precum already.

"Can I touch you?"

"Not yet" you whispered. You loved the way he draw you, you saw all the desire behind it and he deserved to enjoy it and not to rush through it.

"Fuck please, i have never" he stopped himself as you looked at you curiously.

"I did everything but that" he said as he tried to avoid to mention how usually girls got so annoyed with his that after a very good cunnilingus they would ask him to leave.

"even better then" you said as he looked so nervous it was adorable. you leaned in and kissed him again as he let you take off his shirt as he stared at you adoringly, the duvet falling off your torso as his eyes fluttered closed letting you guide him in the kiss, he had a lot to learn but he was eager to.

You swiped your tongue over his lips as he parted them and groaned as you joined your lips in a more eager kiss, your tongue trying his as his hips jerked aimlessly against you trying to get some relief, but you moved your hips away not willing to satisfy him too fast. He was used to stare at you, to long for you with his eyes and now he had to persevere in that.

You pulled back from him moving to stand up between his legs letting the duvet fall off your body, now the act taking a whole new meaning for him as you kneeled down taking off his clothing.

You pushed his cock out slowly stroking it, your cold fingers making him hiss as you pumped him slowly, your lips moved across his cock slowly sucking on it and tracing its length with your tongue.

“If you cum I will leave”

The threatening enough to make him groan, he couldn’t take his eyes off from you even if that made him only more horny.

“Fuck” he hissed as you sucked on his needy tip already spread with premium, your tongue twirling over it before taking it whole in your mouth.

Oh the strangled moan he let out.

He held over the edge of the bed like a dear of life, your bobbing head making him lose his mind, you let out soft moans and humming sound that echoed through his whole body.

“Fuck”

He repeated, more helplessly than before if possible, as he closed his eyes, he squeezed them as his thighs trembled eagerly fighting against his natural eager nature.

You pulled back as you stood up and he let out a loud groan.

“Look at you, already a mess”

You smirked as you moved to straddle him, your bare slit tracing his cock like your tongue just did before letting the tip of it inside you, then you pulled back making him cry out.

Once again, his hips jerked up helplessly.

“Please” he groaned “I need it, I need it” he begged as you held him by his jaw with your left hand as your right one guided him inside you.

You stared at him as you did, his eyes widened, his pupils blown as your warmth engulfed him and wrapped him in a dense sense of pleasure.

“Move, move”

Your leaned your head on side

“Please”

You still didn’t wince, he parted his lips not knowing what to say.

“You have been staring at me like that all that time, do you think I didn’t notice?” You whispered as he licked his lips nervously

“You used me for your little dreams didn’t you? I bet you wanked like a loser with your sketches, you were getting hard on the first day only”

He whined like a suffering cat his thighs trembling as he was bouncing on his heels lightly

“Am I wrong?”

He shook his head to you and you smirked

“I have been your fantasy, now, you’re going to be mine”

He moaned as you begun to move, your lips meeting his as he sucked onto your finger before you moved your own hand to rub your clit, he was completely out of his zone. He used to be hungry and straightforward and now he was just an idiot who didn’t know where to place his hands.

“My muse” he groaned as your moves were making him go wild, his hips jerking against yours “my muse”

He repeated it as you pushed him to lay onto his bed, your sensual bouncing over his lap making any sane man become a priest for your religion.

“Fill me Sebastian, please me”

You moaned as you rubbed over your own clit as he squeezed your thighs unable to phantom any move, to focus.

His mouth hanged open, he licked his lips and groaned, your permission making him lose control as he released inside you.

He kissed onto your lips rising to sit up, arms around your waist as he nuzzled helplessly against you.

A whole new world open in front of him.

“Do you want to paint me now?”

He nodded looking up at you, hair stuck up to his sweaty forehead as he looked so lost, pupils blown and erratic breath.

You smiled tenderly to him tracing his face with your fingertips guiding him into another kiss that he won’t forget for a lifetime.

Tagged @cazzyimagines @lieutenantn @handmaiden-of-mischief @thesunflowersutra @zemomybeloved @fictionlandslanddreams @charistory @greeneyedblondie44 @apparrio @hb8301 @whatawildone @rhymerhymerhyme @thehuiabird @lilith-blackrose @unbeatablecurlgirl @obsidianlaszlo @alindeluce @zemosimp05 @baronesszemo-blackwood @nocapesdahling

#sebastian zöllner x y/n #sebastian zollner smut #sebastian zollner x y/n #sebastian zöllner x reader #sebastian zöllner x you #sebastian zollner x reader #sebastian zöllner headcanon #sebastian zollner #sebastian zöllner #ich und Kaminski fanfiction

127 notes · View notes