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mrsevans90 · 3 months

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Puppy Love

Captain Syverson x OFC Emma Miller Part 11

Y'all, this GIF is down right SPICY but it fit the smut in the story so well I had to ☺️

Summary: Austin Syverson has returned to Texas after retiring from the military and starts his own contracting business. Syverson is used to being alone and thinks he prefers it that way. While at work he stumbles upon an injured and abused puppy. When he meets the new veterinarian in town, Emma Miller, he is immediately smitten with her. It turns out Emma has some baggage of her own. Will they be able to make it work? Or is it just a case of fleeting puppy love?

Pairing: Henry Cavill as Captain Austin Syverson x OFC Emma Miller

Warnings: SMUT, Emma getting an attitude, Sy yelling, detailed PTSD flashback, bodily function/embarrassment, self-deprecating talk, language

MINORS DNI! Must be 18+

I do not authorize any copying/pasting, stealing of my work, or using my words as your own.

This story is not beta’d. All mistakes are my own.

A/N: I am an imperfect person who makes mistakes. All that I ask is to please be kind and if you enjoy it then please comment and REPOST! I appreciate any love, comments, and reposts more than you could know. Thank you for reading!

Part 10

I wake up still in the same position that I fell asleep in, on Emma’s chest and notice that my body feels incredibly stiff. Her gentle breathing and steady heartbeat are comforting even though I’m incredibly embarrassed and just want to pretend last night never happened. I have a feeling this is going to be a very long day. I notice the amount of light cascading in from behind the curtains must make it late in the morning, but considering I had a very active night I’m not surprised that I slept in. I carefully lift my head to see if Emma is awake and am startled when I see her big beautiful eyes staring down at me.

“Good morning.” She says quietly.

“Mornin’.” I reply.

“How are you feeling?”

“Stiff. What time is it?” I ask her somewhat brusquely.

“It’s 9:38.” She answers after looking at the time on her phone.

I sigh and sit up so that I’m faced away from her.

“Let me make us some breakfast. I’m hungry.” She quickly gets up and goes to the restroom to take care of her morning routines before she exits and walks to the bedroom door.

“Come down to eat after you’re done in the bathroom please.” She says quietly while I’m still pondering my next move as I sit on the edge of the bed. The tension and embarrassment oozes from my body as I sit there attempting to contemplate how to handle this. I haven’t been in this situation before. Alex has seen me have a small flashback at work once, but we didn’t have to talk about it. My grandparents certainly don’t know the extent of my PTSD because I purposely keep it from them. They don’t need to know how mentally damaged their loving grandchild has become. Aika is really the only one who has ever witnessed the extent of my depravity and luckily, she can’t talk or judge me for it. She’s just a silent witness who snaps me out of it with a bark or licking my face. Emma is the only person to ever see how badly it really is and I just don’t even know what to say to her. I force myself up and relieve myself in the bathroom before brushing my teeth and getting myself ready for the day. I look at my reflection in the mirror and wonder just how I got this screwed up before heading to the kitchen.

Emma is humming to herself as if nothing has transpired as she flips pancakes on the stove. She has coffee brewing in the pot and has sat out my favorite mug that has a picture of a donkey on it with the words, “Do I Look Like a Jackass?” written across it. It was a gift from one of my warhorse buddies, Harper.

When she hears me approach, she turns and silently fills the cup with coffee before handing it to me with a shy smile. Seems the poor thing is also trying to figure out what to say and coming up blank.

“I hope pancakes sound good to you. I also made some bacon and saw there’s some fruit in your fridge but I’m not sure how old it is.”

“That’s more than enough. Thank you.”

I drink my coffee while she turns back around to work on the breakfast. Once it’s made, I set the table and refill our coffee cups while remembering to add the coffee creamer that I now buy specifically for Emma since she likes hers sweet. Just like her.

We sit down and I’m aching to avoid the subject but I know I just need to get it over with.

I clear my throat. “Breakfast looks really good. Thank you.”

“Anytime, baby.” She replies and I want to smile.

“I um… I’m really sorry about what happened last night. You shouldn’t have to see me like that or put up with it and I just want to apologize.”

“There is nothing to apologize for. I’m grateful you opened up to me a little bit, honestly.”

Unwillingly, I think to myself. I take a deep breath.

“Maybe, this thing between us is moving too fast.” I blurt out.

“By this thing, you mean our relationship? Correct me if I’m wrong, but I thought we were exclusive after our conversation the other day. Is this you trying to end things with me?” She says angrily.

“I’m just no good for you. You shouldn’t have to deal with a grown man who has nightmares.”

“I think that I should be the one to decide who or what is good for me. I’m a grown woman who has plenty of my own baggage and I’m not going to allow you to throw this away because you’re embarrassed or trying to protect me from the one person who doesn’t pose a threat to me.”

“I absolutely pose a threat to you!” I yell and slam my fist against the table. “Wasn’t last night enough to show you? I was wielding a rifle dreaming that I was back in active war. Damnit Emma! Don’t be naïve. I could have shot you, or hit you. I could have thought that you were the enemy and there’s no way you would have been able to fight me off! I should have ended things before it got to this point and I’m sorry that I didn’t. I was being selfish and wanted more time with you but I realize now how dangerous that is.”

“NO.” She crosses her arms and straitens her back defensively.

“No?” I repeat in quiet shock.

“No.” She stares at me with a look of fire like a mother chastising her child and even though she’s so tiny I feel myself cower back a little.

“You are ruining the best thing I’ve ever had because you are scared, Austin! And I understand how scary it was, believe me, I was there watching you fight a battle in your own mind. But I’m not afraid of you and I never will be. You need to understand that we both need each other and I am good for you whether you choose to believe it or not. You’re jumping to a conclusion either to punish yourself or me because you’re embarrassed that I know this about you now and I will not tolerate it. Last night, you protected me from what you thought was danger even in your flashback. You will not hurt me and I know it.”

I sit there for a minute stunned by what she said.

“What do you mean?”

“I’d be happy to tell you everything from my perspective if you could stop trying to dump me and actually have a vulnerable conversation with me like an adult.” She snarks.

Damn, she’s throwing some verbal punches this morning and it’s kinda sexy.

“Alright, I’m listening.” I announce and she takes a deep breath before speaking.

“I woke up to the sound of the bedroom door slamming shut and you running down the stairs. Aika jumped up and seemed concerned so I took her with me as I went downstairs, turning on lights as I went since you still had the house completely in the dark. I heard the backdoor slam open against the wall as you ran out and I held Aika back so I could shut the door until I could determine what was going on. When I turned on the patio lights I saw you run by with a rifle in your hands. I figured you might have heard an animal or intruder or something so I waited for a moment looking through the window before I heard you yelling. It was pouring rain so I struggled to hear you but you didn’t seem to notice the rain. You ran up against the backside of the house and were yelling different words, military lingo I guess, and aiming your rifle around the corner. Aika was going absolutely nuts barking and I almost let her out to get you but I wasn’t sure if your gun was loaded. Instead, I carefully made my way over to you and kept repeating, “It’s Emma, you are safe.” But when I got to you I could tell you were still actively dreaming, if that’s what we are going to call it. Your eyes were almost glassy but when I touched your shoulder, you immediately put your arm around me from behind to protect me and told me to get down and cover my head. You kept placing your body in front of me. I tried talking to you but you just kept asking me if ‘Lowell and Waites’ were still alive. I wasn’t sure what to say but I remembered the conversation that we had the first time I stayed here. I couldn’t get your attention since you were so absorbed in your mission, until I finally grabbed your face with my hands. That’s when you started to come back to me. You protected me from whatever threat you saw, not the opposite.”

I take a steadying breath and try to calm my heart rate. Hearing her talk about something I’ve done during a flashback is strange, because she’s the first to actually witness it and tell me what I did. I guess it’s like sleepwalking, or undergoing anesthesia where you remember specific events but they are different to what actually happened.

“I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“I’m not. I hate that you had to go through that in real life, and again in your flashbacks but I’m glad that I was there to see it. I think I understand you a bit more and I want to be there for you.” She says earnestly.

“If you want to apologize for something, you can apologize for trying to dump me.” She says moments later with an attitude.

I can’t help but crack a smile at her gumption. She is something else.

“I’m sorry for trying to dump you.” I whisper and she stands and comes over to sit in my lap.

“I accept your apology.” She smirks.

“Thank you for refusing to be dumped.” I look intently into her eyes. She kisses me sweetly before tapping my forehead.

“Let me in here. I can handle it, I promise. I want to know everything about you, even the bad stuff.”

“I just… I’ve never let anyone in.”

“Okay, imagine this. What if I kept all of my trauma about Colin from you. I know it’s not the same, but just imagine I didn’t tell you about him stalking me, or why I am the way I am about things. You’d be pretty pissed, right?”

“Obviously.” I tell her. “But that’s because I want to protect you.”

“Exactly. I feel the same way. Now imagine if I told you that I kept it from you because I just didn’t think you could handle my drama.”

I roll my eyes.

“I never said you couldn’t handle it.”

“But you’ve thought that. Haven’t you?”

“Maybe” I mutter petulantly.

“You’d be livid with me.” She smirks at me knowing she’s made her point thoroughly.

“Alright. I get it.” I put my hands up in surrender.

“I can handle this and I want to know everything about you. Even the stuff you keep locked away for whatever reason.”

“It’s pretty dark, Sugar. I don’t like thinking about it and I don’t like the idea of you thinking about it.”

“Again, not your decision to make.” She says.

“I decide what’s best for me and what I can handle. I promise you, I can handle this and if you just get that through your thick skull and let me be there for you, we’ll be good as gravy.” She said while thumping my forehead.

“Ow, woman!” I say before I tickle her sides.

“Fine. I’ll be better about opening up. I just might need your help and your patience because I’ve kept all of my shit buried away essentially my entire adult life.”

“They teach you to do that in the military?” She asks with an eyebrow arched.

“Pretty much.”

“Well, I’m going to help you undo that.”

“I don’t know that I’m going to like that process.”

“You’ll be fine.” She says before kissing me gently. “I’ll use my sexual prowess if I have too.”

“Seduce me to learn my secrets? You little minx.” She giggles at my joke and I breathe a sigh of relief that we can joke about it at this point.

“Do these flashback episodes happen often?” She asks.

“Nah, this is the biggest one I’ve ever had. I’ve had a few small ones, but nothing this involved before. Maybe once or twice a year before this. It’s usually triggered by something when I’m really tired.”

“What do you think triggered you last night?”

“If I had to guess, I’d say the storm. Likely the thunder was similar to an explosion or something in my dream.” I say quietly and she just nods and strokes my cheek.

“Do you have Nana’s brunch today?”

“Nah, she’s got some clothing drive thing at the church that she’s doing. I’m glad because I don’t need her scrutiny today.”

“Does she know about the episodes?”

“Not really, just always told her it was nightmares. I think PawPaw likely has an idea having been a veteran himself, but he keeps it to himself which I appreciate. I don’t need Nana trying to convince me to join some VA group to talk about my problems.”

“What’s so bad about those groups? I only ask because I have no frame of reference.”

“Nothing, those things are really good for some people but it’s just not for me. I tried once or twice after I retired and felt worse after them. Just not the type to get up in front of strangers and talk about my issues.”

“Survivor’s guilt.” Emma mutters and I glance at her somewhat annoyed.

“Think you’ve got me all figured out then?” I ask haughtily.

“No. Not at all as a matter of fact. I know there’s a lot more that you haven’t shared with me. That’s fine, for now. Just don’t get mad at me for being here for you. I don’t deserve that.”

My iciness cools immediately and I agree with her. She’s just wanting to be here for me in a way nobody else has ever been.

“I’ll do my best, Darlin’.” I admit while tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear.

“That’s all I can ask for.” She kisses me sweetly.

“What do you want to do today, Sugar? That is if you want to spend the day with me.” I ask her.

“Shut up, of course I do.” She says as she rolls her eyes and I growl at her.

“Mmm.. I need to go to the grocery store and do some meal prep, but other than that I’m open to whatever.”

“Want to go to the store together? Hell, it certainly wouldn’t hurt me to bring my lunch a few days rather than eatin’ fast food all the time.”

“Ohhh! I love that. I can prep lunches for both of us.” She says excitedly and I can’t help but smirk at her.

“You don’t have to do all that work.” I say, thinking that I can cook my own.

“I really don’t mind. I have to cook mine anyway.”

“Alright, how about this. I buy all the groceries for us, and you cook the meals.”

“No baby, I’m offerin’ to cook for you. I don’t need you to buy my food.”

“Nah, that’s the deal Sugar Pie. Take it or leave it.” She arches her eyebrow at me and I can’t help but chuckle and smack her round little ass.

“Fine, but I’m not happy about it.”

“Military negotiation training continues to pay off.” I chuckle at her reaction. She attempts to tickle me, but I gently grab each of her wrists effectively handcuffing her hands by her sides.

“Geez, Sy, I knew you were strong, but damn.” She says as she attempts to wiggle out of my grasp. She doesn’t realize that she’s also wiggling her ass against me and in a matter of moments, she’s going to feel what it’s doing to me.

I let go of her wrists and she acts like she’s done playing before she turns around quickly and shoves her fingers against my ribs. I jolt from the chair sideways as she laughs freely at what she thinks is winning this game.

“Oh, ya wanting to play?” I say with a smirk and when I reach for her she jumps up and takes off running. Before I even realize it, we are giggling like school children as I chase her up the stairs. The dogs are barking wildly and poor Aika has Mills jumping all over her in an attempt to start wrestling. They slowed me down by getting between me and Emma so she got a little bit of a head start. Eventually Aika gives in and the start playfully wrestling in the hallway. I catch her at the top of the stairs, my long legs being no match for her short but fast stature. Emma squeals exuberantly when I pick her up from behind and haul her over my shoulder. She’s panting and I realize I might’ve played too rough so I gently slide her down my body, taking care to be intentional with where I placed my hands.

“Shit! I didn’t think about your period. I didn’t hurt ya did I?”

She smiles before shaking her head, “it ended last night. You didn’t hurt me baby, but thank you for checking.”

“Well in that case,” I say as I haul her back up on my shoulder, “I’m going to finish what I started.” She squeals again before smacking me on my butt.

I slap her ass that’s now exposed since she was still only in my shirt and grope it gently before throwing her on the bed on her back. I lay beside her on my back as we catch our breaths from our little game of cat and mouse.

“That was fun.” She giggles.

“Sure was.” I turn to her and smile.

“Now what?”

“Well, I don’t think I’d let you go to the grocery store without pants on, so as much as I hate to, I suggest you get dressed.” I respond as I gently rub my big mitt against the soft skin of her leg.

“Mmm, maybe later. I don’t think I’m done playing.” She admits seductively before gently placing her hand delicately against my clothed cock.

“That so?” I ask her and she nods. My heart starts beating quicker as she begins rubbing against me.

“Right now, I think I’d like to get you undressed.” She says seductively before her hand slides under the hem of my shirt. I lean up and quickly pull it over my shoulders tossing it somewhere in the room. I’m about to lean over on top of her when she pushes me back and her hands slide under the waistband of my shorts and boxers. She grasps my erection firmly before pulling at my shorts and boxers to remove them, so I lift my hips to assist her. Once those are off, Emma begins kissing across my abdomen while simultaneously jerking my throbbing erection. My hands are everywhere and nowhere at once, like an overwhelmed kid given free range in a candy store.

“Fuck, Sugar. What brought all this on?” I rasp as I grab a handful of her ass.

“You trying to dump me.” She says and I pause and look at her concernedly.

“Gotta remind you what you’d be missing out on.” She smirks before pulling my t-shirt off of her body and exposing her flawless breasts. She immediately pushes them against me and my responding growl has her grinning. Her warm, soft skin rubbing against my torso has me aching to take control and flip her over. Emma’s tiny hand still pumping my cock has me frozen and her gorgeous body, now only clad in a little pink thong has me hypnotized. I can’t stop myself from humping further into her hand as I feel her warm breath slowly making her way up my torso before sucking on my neck.

“Sugar, you’re playing a real dangerous game here.” I warn as she bites and sucks a hickey right above my collarbone. At the same time, I’m so hard that it’s painful and beads of precum are continually leaking from my slit as she uses it for further lubrication towards her ministrations.

Emma sucks on my earlobe before lightly whispering in my ear, “Ah, I like playing games with you.” Goosebumps erupt all over my skin and that’s when my resolve breaks.

Without thinking, I flip Emma over and tear her tiny thong to shreds as I rip in from her body. She gasps with either surprise or overwhelming need but I don’t pay attention as I pull her in for a brutal kiss. She starts to try and take control back by grabbing at my forearms, but I quickly trap both of her arms above her head using one of my hands to secure them.

“Now who’s in control?” I ask her smugly as I take in her beauty. Her breasts, peaked and heaving from the excitement are so sexy that I ache just from looking at them. Her little belly ring shimmering in the sunlight that streams in from the window somehow makes me even harder.

“Still me. I say stop and I know you’ll immediately discontinue what you’re doing.” She smiles triumphantly.

I smirk at her, because she’s exactly right. She holds all the power here, and I’m damn glad she knows it. Seems she wasn’t able to have that in her last relationship and I’ll do everything in my power to see that she knows she’s in control.

“You’re exactly right, Darlin’.” I say with a smile and her returning grin stuns me.

“Lucky for you, I like it when you take control and toss me around.” She divulges as she squirms under me and I can’t help but rut against her legs.

“That so?” I ask and she nods dumbly.

“Well ask and you shall receive.” I say before capturing her lips in a messy kiss. I trail my other hand slowly down her body before inserting my middle finger into her core and keen as she moans in pleasure at the intrusion. I pump a few times before adding a second finger and her body arches pleasantly off the bed.

“Fuck, Sy!” Emma shouts as I curl them in search of her g-spot. I grin victoriously when I know I’ve found it based on the reaction of her body. I start worshipping her titties that are so conveniently pressed right in front of my mouth and that seems to spur her on. I’m leaking all over her thigh as I’m so turned on but I need to get her there first.

I’m still holding her arms above her body and that’s how I keep her still as she squirms and moans exuberantly once her first orgasm washes over her. I observe the pure bliss ease across her facial features as she reaches her climax and I can hear the audible squelch of her arousal each time I pump my fingers into her core. After I’m sure to help her through it, I slide my fingers out and wipe the juices along my shaft, squeezing it to release a little bit of pressure as I do. I look at a completely blissed-out Emma as I pump myself a few times before I hear her quietly request, “Fuck me, Captain Syverson. Fuck me hard.”

I groan before capturing her lips in a filthy kiss before I flip her over. I lift her hips up off the bed and am appreciating the view of her perfect little peach and round delicious ass in the air before she shakes it at me. I smack her ass before sliding in and barely giving her time to recover as I slam into her.

“Y’okay?” I ask after she gasped loudly and she nodded before pushing herself further back on me.

I groan and she does it again so I stay there perfectly still for a few moments as I watch the erotic way Emma fucks herself on my cock in doggy style position. Her back is perfectly arched and she flips that mane of hair over her shoulder as she drives herself back on me again. Fuckin’ hell. I can't help myself when I wrap her hair around my fist as I fuck her harder.

My hands are in tight fists as I’m trying to keep from busting a nut so soon after we started but I know I’m not going to last long. I grab ahold of her hips and drive myself into her sopping wet core and focus on getting the angle right. I know I’ve gotten it when I feel her flutter around me.

“Yeah? Ya like that? Takin’ Sy’s cock all the way up in your tummy? Mmm, mmm, mmm, you look so fucking good like this, Sugar. This perfect ass slamming against me as I fuck that sweet, juicy peach.” I tell her and her moans get louder.

“Tell me, Darlin’. Tell me how it feels.” I probe her.

“Ah! Fuckkk! You feel so good, baby. So big and… and full and deep. Fuckin’ me better than I’ve ever had.”

“Yeah? This is easily the tightest, tastiest little peach I’ve ever had before. You were made for me. Made to take this cock.” I say and she moans. I slide my hands from her hips and grope her ass before putting my thumb around her tight little ring of muscle.

“You gonna let me in here one day, Sugar?” She clenches all around me and I almost blow my load.

“May…maybe.” She says as I continue to rut into her. I add a bit more pressure with my finger and feel her clamp down on me as her second orgasm ravishes throughout her body.

“Fuck, Sugar, you’re squeezin’ me so tight. I’m gonna cum.” I tell her and she moans as I piston in and out of her at a quicker pace to reach my high. My balls are heavy and full and I grunt as they tighten to my body when my orgasm washes over me. I still as deeply as I can in her wet heat as I paint her insides with ropes of cum and gently drape myself across her back that is now limp on the bed.

Emma whimpers as I remove myself from her and I quickly push the leaking cum back into her when it starts to leak out.

“Y’alright, Sugar?” I ask as she doesn’t move.

“Mmm.” She replies and I don’t know if that’s a yes or a no.

“Fucked you speechless huh?” I chuckle as I stand up and turn on the shower. The sweat dripping down my chest makes me want a cold shower, but I know Emma won’t have that so I get the warm water running before I go back to get her. She’s still completely spread out on the bed on her belly like I left her. I roll her over gently before lifting her up bridal style and carrying her to the bathroom. I set her on the toilet and am shocked that she pees without making me leave the room, but I don’t comment on it. She shuffles over to wash her hands before pulling her hair up into a messy bun. I wash my hands and check the shower temperature before she wraps her arms around me. I’m sweaty but she doesn’t seem to care as she rests her cheek against my chest. I aim the water on us and soap us up cleaning the sweat and the remnants of our tryst from both of our bodies. I kiss her forehead gently and she just smiles and nuzzles further into my chest with her eyes closed. After our shower, I quickly dry her off as well as myself before I clean up the clothes thrown around the room. Her little panties are in shreds and I remind myself to offer to pay for them as I throw them in the wastebasket.

“You’re awfully quiet.” I voice aloud and she smiles.

“I think I’ve been asleep while standing up that whole shower.” She replies and I chuckle.

“You must’ve been. Didn’t even make me leave the room when you went to pee.” I joke and her eyes snap open in realization.

“Oh my god, I didn’t. You saw me pee.” She says as she places her face in her hands in embarrassment.

I laugh loudly because she must’ve not even notice me pee after her while she was washing her hands.

“It’s alright, I won’t tell anyone. I peed while you were washing your hands if that makes you feel any better.”

“It doesn’t. I’m so embarrassed. I didn’t even think, your sexpertise made me almost comatose. I claim insanity.”

“You know I don’t care about that. You could even fart in front of me and I bet it would be adorable.” Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say.

“ABSOLUTELY NOT. That would be mortifying. I would have to move out of the country.” She says dramatically and I laugh.

“You really think that we could live a whole life together, married with babies, grandbabies, and even great grandbabies and I wouldn’t see you pee or hear you fart?” I ask her seriously and am surprised when she shyly smiles.

“You think about us living a whole life together?” Truth time.

“Honestly, yeah. I’ve thought about it a few times. I know it’s early on, but it’s nice to think I’d be capable of having a future like that, and it’s even nicer to imagine it with you. Plus, it’s kind of hard not to when Nana is practically marrying us off in every phone call I have with her.”

Emma’s cheeks blush pink and I’m glad I was honest with her.

“I think that sounds amazing.” She wraps her arms around my neck and kisses me and I swear my heart beats for this woman.

Part 12

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sarahowritesostucky · 4 months

Text

📖"The Carter Academy for Omega Excellence"

Rated: Explicit

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

Tags: age gap, boarding school au, a/b/o, dub-con/non-con, spanking, feminization, dumbification, sexism, misogyny, subjugation, prostate milking, discipline, D/s elements, societal issues, hurt/comfort, mentions of past self-harm, onlyfans, predatory behavior, gender politics

Summary: Bucky is not pleased when he finds out that his parents tricked him and he's being forced to stay at the school.

Author's Note: *reformatted with a few age and plot changes to adhere to Tumblr's ToS*

(Wait! I haven't read Part 1 Part 2 yet!)

Part 3 - A Pedagogy Steeped in Tradition, cont'd

Previously: “How long until you whip him into shape?” Ransom asks as they return back to Steve’s office. They’ve just walked in the room, and James is turning around to look at them as they come through the door.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Steve hems, catching the boy’s gaze and giving him a warm look. “I bet you he’ll be a new James by spring break.”

James’ eyes narrow. “Bucky,” he says.

“Excuse me?”

“My name is Bucky,” he repeats peevishly. “Nobody calls me James except my grandparents.”

Steve nods, ignoring the boy’s tone. “Nice to meet you then, Bucky. I take it Sharon had to leave?” Bucky shrugs in lieu of an answer, and Steve allows the attitude to go unchecked only because the boy’s parents are still present. “Sharon is a wonderful Handler,” he tells him instead. “I’m sure the two of you will get along famously.”

Bucky glowers at him.

Steve catches the eye of the security officer. “Mr. Rumlow, you can take up your post in the hall. Thank you for waiting with him.”

“Sir.” Brock nods and heads out.

“Oh, Bucky, just wait until you see this place, it’s so neat! It’s got such history.” Winnifred gushes about it to her son, trying to get him excited, telling him about all the different things they saw on their tour of Cragside. She calls it a “castle,” which draws a bit of a laugh from Steve.

“Hardly, Mrs. Barnes,” he chuckles.

“Oh, it’s Drysdale,” she corrects. “My name.”

Steve looks over to Bucky. “Oh. But I thought—”

“I’m remarried,” she explains. “Bucky is from my first marriage. He chooses to use his father’s surname.”

“Ah. I see. My apologies, Mrs. Drysdale.” Steve doesn’t miss the sour expression that flits over Bucky’s face. Steve clears his throat and gestures towards the couches. “I’m just having the paperwork drawn up. It should arrive soon. Would you care to take a seat while we wait? Afternoon tea’s an entire thing over here, and it is about that time.”

“Paperwork?” Bucky says, attention sharpening on them. “What paperwork?”

“Nothing to concern yourself with, little one,” Steve says, very aware of the displeasure that flits across Bucky’s face at being addressed that way.

“Whatever,” he mutters. “I’ve already decided I don’t want to go here anyway. It’s an all omegas school. Did you guys know that?” He’s asking his mother and stepfather, and Winnifred sighs while Ransom scoffs.

“It’s exactly the sort of environment you need, you little punk. Can’t be a skank here. All you can do is study. That’s what school’s for.”

“Ransom,” Winnie scolds.

“That’s the sort of thing pompous losers who can’t get laid say,” Bucky tosses back, and Steve makes a quick assumption that there is no love lost between these two.

“I’ll call for the tea,” he says, trying to stop their bickering. It works, somewhat, and the Drysdales sit across from Steve on the room’s conversation couches when the service has been delivered and set out on the coffee table between them. Steve catches Rumlow’s questioning look through the doorway as the servants are leaving, but shakes his head smally, confident that he can handle an unruly pup like Bucky all by himself, if things get testy.

Predictably, Bucky stays standing while the real adults have tea. He ignores his mother when she suggests that he have a seat, and he keeps making aggressive eye contact with Steve each time he comes over to grab another petit four off the tiered stand to eat.

“Oh Bucky, honestly,” Winnifred scolds after the fifth one. “They’re not all just for you.”

Bucky doesn’t respond to her, just shoves most of the scone in his mouth while he confronts Steve with a blunt, “I’m not even gonna apply to this place.” Steve stares him down, but Bucky doesn’t break eye contact, the little shit.

“Well,” Steve says calmly, “We’re not a university. We’re a boarding school. Our students are enrolled by their guardians. It’s more a transfer of custody than it is your traditional college application.” He watches as Bucky’s face screws up in confusion.

“What?” he says. “What are you talking about?” He turns to the couch where Winnifred and Ransom are sitting. “What’s he talking about?”

WInnifred leans forward anxiously. “Well, honey, we didn’t think you’d agree to come if we told you.”

“Told me what?” Bucky expression is rapidly darkening. He turns on Ransom with a scowl. “What is this place?”

“It’s a reform school. And you’re attending,” Ransom says.

“No. … You’re joking me right now … right? Are you shitting me?”

He shrugs. “I’ve already paid your tuition. You should be thanking me.”

“Thanking you?! I only agreed to this stupid trip because you promised we could go see Stonehenge and some castles and shit! Not so you could imprison me at some fucking oldworld boarding school in the middle of fucking nowhere! Fuck you!”

Winnifred nearly chokes on her tea. “Bucky!”

“This is a very prestigious, traditional, very expensive school, you little shit,” Ransom grits, pointing at Bucky. “Maybe they’ll actually be able to drum some manners into you, teach you how to be a proper omega. You need some good old fashioned discipline. ”

“I really don’t care what you think I need, Rancid,” Bucky snaps. “God. I should’ve known the second I saw that one guy on a leash.” He looks over at Steve with a nasty expression. “You’re one of those red pill Alphas, aren’t you? One of those incels who can’t get laid and blames all your problems on the omegas of the world and modern society and feminism and shit, right?”

“What’s with the obsession with getting laid, Mr. Barnes?” Steve drawls, completely unaffected by Bucky’s tantrum. “This is The Carter Academy for Omega Excellence. We’re a finishing school and reform facility aimed at older teens and young adults; exclusive, secure, and very well-equipped to handle whatever hissy fit you might decide to throw at us. This is a school for the rich and overindulged, but not in the ways you’re probably used to. We tame some of the most spoilt brats in Europe here. So I’d advise you to behave. Things will go much harder for you if you don’t.” Steve knows immediately from watching Bucky’s face fall that this is the first time the kid is hearing the full name of the school said out loud. He resists the urge to laugh about how clueless that makes him. The school’s emblem is printed clear as day all over the place, but Bucky has clearly missed every single sign that litters the campus. “Kids these days,” Steve simpers, staring down the boy’s rapidly darkening expression. “Noses always buried in your phones, huh?”

Bucky’s fingers grip tighter around the cellphone in his hand, glaring, and then he whips around to scowl at Ransom instead. “You,” he growls. “You tricked me!”

Ransom looks like his mind is already elsewhere—perhaps on the rest of the vacation he’s already unashamedly told Steve he plans to take without his pesky stepson in tow. “What can I say? You’re pretty easy to trick.”

“You can’t just leave me here!” Bucky squawks from around another mouthful of food, crumbs scattering to the carpet as he flings the hand that’s holding his scone. “I didn’t even know places like this were a real thing anymore! Like a fucking convent? Like some sort of fucked up juvie-meets-Hogwarts?!”

“Bucky, really,” his mother scolds, lips pursed. “You’re making a mess on Principal Rogers’ floor.”

Steve waves her off. “That’s alright, Mrs. Drysdale.” He looks at Bucky. “You’ll be surprised just how well it works, Cupcake. You’ll have no distractions from your education here.” The ‘Cupcake’ obviously goes over like a lead balloon with Bucky, if his continuing glower is anything to go by. Steve ignores the kid’s petulance and turns back to converse with the parents. “The girls’ school still operates down in Newcastle-upon-Tyne, at our original campus. A generous benefactor donated this estate, so now all of our male students attend here at Cragside.”

“Finishing school,” Bucky grumbles over to the side, still displeased. “This is bullshit.”

“Language, Mr. Barnes,” Steve corrects blithely, and keeps on with Winnifred, “My business partner, Ms. Carter, she’s to act as Headmistress there moving forward. ‘Carter Girls’ Academy’ is now its own entity and will operate independent of this institution.” He looks back to Bucky and locks eyes with him. “Sorry to disappoint you, but out here it’s just us boys, I’m afraid.”

It’s laughably obvious how Steve does not fit into any category with Bucky, let alone that of “boy,” and Steve is pleased to note a light dusting of color on the kid’s cheeks after that. Bucky goes tight-lipped once again, and Steve leaves him to his teenaged sulking as he finishes entertaining the parents and assuring them that their son will be well looked after during his time at school. The paperwork for Bucky’s admission arrives and is reviewed, and soon Mr. and Mrs. Drysdale have signed their son over to Steve’s care and are saying their goodbyes.

Winnifred pulls him into a long hug, which Bucky tolerates with limp arms. “Be good,” Steve hears her say. “And remember how generous your stepfather’s being.”

“Sixty grand a semester,” Ransom mutters on the way out, reminding Steve that money can’t buy class.

One of the school prefects is waiting out in the hall to act as escort, Brock standing directly against the opposite side of the hallway in his security guard gear. Steve catches Bucky looking at the man like he’s gauging his chances of making a run for it, but luckily the boy relents and turns away from the door with a huff. Steve sees the parents out and then finally pushes the heavy office door closed.

The room is suddenly twenty times more silent than it was before, though not much has changed other than who’s occupying it.

Without turning to look at Bucky, Steve walks leisurely over to the office’s wall of windows. He waits there for a moment, until the Drysdales appear in the courtyard below. He watches placidly as they walk to their car and get in, heading off down the drive within the next few moments. Cragside is abutted by forest on every side but one, and soon the trees block the car from view, and there’s nothing more to see. Still, Steve remains standing there, looking out the windows at the grounds and letting the silence stretch out, the tension build, as the boy behind him stares his fill. (Steve is not unaware of what he looks like from the back in a tailored suit.)

Finally, he turns around. Bucky is still standing there in the middle of the room, looking rooted to the spot. He seems apprehensive now that it’s just the two of them, some of his earlier bravado leached away. But after a moment he seems to collect himself, and he winds up jutting his jaw out again.

Steve’s mouth quirks at that lingering bit of defiance. He always has enjoyed the process of breaking in a new student. “Alright, Honey,” he says softly. “That was fun back there. But now it’s time for the two of us to get properly acquainted, don’t you think?” He beckons him closer with a finger. “Come over here and let me have a look at you.”

Bucky doesn’t move, so Steve sighs and goes to him, fitting one hand to the front of his neck when he gets there. He holds him right underneath his jaw, pushing up to make Bucky look at him. Steve’s hand looks massive against the boy’s delicate throat, and he digs in with his thumb against the glands. Bucky lets out a sweet little gasp of sensitivity that Steve absolutely relishes. “You’re nervous,” he observes. He watches the fluttering of Bucky’s eyelids at his firm touch, his deep tone. Something between fondness and yearning flares in Steve’s belly, pleasurable and aching, like pressing on an old bruise. He ignores it, instead murmuring, “You’ve never had an Alpha, have you?”

Bucky’s eyes flick up to him. “I’m not a virgin,” he sneers. “I’ve fucked alphas before.”

Steve scoffs. “That’s not what I said.” He sees Bucky’s brow furrowing, so he cuts him off with a little scruff. “I said: you’ve never had an Alpha before.” He pulls against his jaw a little harder, watching the reaction it elicits in those angry blue eyes. “Don’t play coy with me, boy. Answer the question. You haven’t, have you?”

“No,” Bucky answers tightly. “I haven’t.”

Steve nods. He relaxes his hand some. “Then that means most of this is all going to be new to you. You’ve had a liberal education, a lax upbringing. A lot’s going to be asked of you while you’re here. There’ll be a lot you don’t know. You’ll make mistakes, you’ll struggle sometimes. And that’s okay. Rome wasn’t built in a day, now was it?” He strokes softly over the boy’s fluttering pulsepoint and Voices, “I do, however, expect you to be respectful and obedient. Do you understand?”

Bucky whimpers, though Steve isn’t being unkind. In fact he’s Voiced very softly to him just now, letting the dominant tone of it creep into the words he’s saying, letting it enrich them without hardening them, so that Bucky can really start to get a taste for it. The boy’s eyelids visibly flutter and his lips part as he starts to breathe open-mouthed. Then his tongue darts out to lick his lips as he tries to get a handle on himself. It’s cute.

Steve circles the pad of his thumb over his bonding gland. “Has anyone ever Voiced to you before, baby?”

Bucky nods. “Uh huh.”

“Yes, Alpha,” Steve gently corrects. “Who?”

“Who ... huh?”

Steve chuckles. “Aw, don’t go stupid on me yet, honey. I asked you: who’s Voiced to you before?”

“Oh. Just, um, just some … some guys … n’ a girl, from school. Hey,” he frowns, “M’not stupid.”

“Hush. You get worked up too easy. Just try and stay calm for me, yeah?” A thrill travels through Steve’s body as he watches Bucky’s lips part and his face slacken. He’s so easy for it. In his slacks, Steve’s cock pulses with interest. “Oh Sweetie,” he coos. “You don’t know what Voicing is, if you think one of your little classmates did it to you.”

Under his hand, Bucky shivers. “What?” he croaks.

It’s no wonder. If all he’s ever experienced are the best attempts of a few pubertal teenagers, then a grown ass man like Steve is bound to feel like a lot. It’s like giving a shot of hard liquor to a kid who’s never drank before. The poor thing has no tolerance. Steve guides him over to the couch, where he sits and encourages Bucky to kneel with a guiding hand pressing down on his shoulder. “There you go,” he praises as Bucky’s knees hit the floor, not missing how the boy’s brow furrows adorably at the change in positioning.

“I … I don’t …” He looks insulted and confused about how he arrived there, staring down at his knees on the carpet as if they’ve just betrayed him by folding so easily.

“It’s okay,” Steve soothes. “That’s normal. I know it can be a little unsettling at first, that won’t last. You’ll learn to enjoy it, embrace it, even. And it’s certainly nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Ashamed of … what?” Bucky asks, swallowing thickly when Steve touches his neck again. He jerks back, the Alpha’s hand left hovering in the air between them.

Steve sighs sadly and lets his hand drop. “Submission, Sweetheart. That urge to bare your neck? Going to your knees for me just now? It’s what made that feel right.” He watches the realization bloom on Bucky’s face and the fear leak into his eyes, the way he glances back down to his own body like he’s never seen it before. Steve makes sure to be gentle with him as he says, “It’s not a bad thing to give in when you get the urge. Your body craves it. Your brain thrives on it.”

“On what?” Bucky growls nastily. “Getting into blowjob position for my principal?”

Steve forces himself not to laugh and instead raises an eyebrow that he hopes looks threatening. “Thrives on submission,” he corrects. “It’s already in you, an innate reflex, but for whatever reason you’ve trained yourself out of it. You’ll have to relearn those behaviors.”

“What behaviors,” Bucky asks, “grovelling?”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Hardly. Things like humility, and subservience, thinking before you speak. Don’t worry, most of our matriculating students are out of practice at best, we know you need a lot of help. That’s why you get the staff, your teachers, me. And of course your Handler, who’s in charge of you completely.” He sees Bucky’s expression sour and sternly adds, “Completely, Bucky. When your Handler asks you to do something, it isn’t a request. If they tell you to kneel, or to sit on their lap, or even strip naked in front of them in a public space, then that’s what you do. That’s how it works here. And if you resist, you can count on punishment.” He watches as Bucky’s visage darkens, a storm of contempt gathering behind his eyes.

“Naked?” he says, scowling. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Shh,” Steve chides, trying to calm him with a pet to the head. Bucky hisses in rejection though, trying to jerk away, so Steve acts decisively. He grabs the back of his neck, scruffing him and forcing him in close. “Don’t fight, Bucky. Just calm down, rest your head down here.” Bucky grunts and pulls, but that only lasts a second before the Hold and Steve’s Voice make him go limp with a confused whimper. Steve hushes him and strokes his hair. “You’re okay … Take a deep breath ... There you go, good girl.” He waits. “… Now, I'm going to explain a few things for you. I want you to listen.”

Bucky grumbles unhappily from his spot between Steve’s legs, his cheek smooshed against the Alpha’s thigh muscle. “What punishments?” he growls.

“Hush.” Steve presses Bucky’s face against his leg and waits until he feels the next shudder of submission travel through his body. “Okay. Okay, good.” He inhales. “So, punishment. That can be lots of things. It can be spanking, or lines, or restraints at bedtime. It just depends on the situation and what your Handler feels is going to help you best in that specific situation. Often it’ll involve losing privileges of some sort; to your favorite activities or your clothing, or even bathroom privileges if you—”

“What?!”

Steve squeezes his neck again. “We can start right now if you need it,” he purrs, the threat coming through loud and clear despite his calm tone. He waits, and is pleased when Bucky offers no further bratting over the issue. “Okay, good.” He returns to petting him, fingers carding through his short, soft hair. There’s product in it, and Steve would bet money it’s blow-dried. He finds himself wanting to feel it in its natural state. “If you leave your hair alone after a shower,” he murmurs. “Does it dry curly?”

Bucky whines and squirms and completely ignores the question. “You just wanna humiliate me.”

“No, baby,” Steve tuts sadly. “That’s not it at all. I know it’ll seem that way sometimes, especially in the beginning. But this is all for you, I promise. To benefit you in the long run. To make you happy. Everything we do at this school is based on what the science has proven, okay? Evidence-based practice, that’s all. We wouldn’t use these methods if they didn’t work.”

“... what methods?” Bucky asks, voice tiny.

Steve hums and rubs behind his ear. “I’m sure a lot of it will seem old fashioned to you. It is old fashioned, or ‘traditional’ if you like. You met Sharon earlier, yes?” He waits for Bucky’s grunt of acknowledgement before he continues, “She’ll be your Handler. She’s personally assigned to you and nobody else, so she’ll be with you every day all day, almost everywhere you go.”

“Great,” Bucky complains

“It’s a good thing. She’s here to help you with your needs. Just think of her like … like a service animal, yeah? Just a tool to help you succeed.”

“Does she heel and sit?” Bucky mutters, and Steve laughs in surprise.

“No. The other way around, if anything. You have a schedule. You’ll attend the classes and activities that’re set out for you, and you’ll comport yourself with dignity and respect.”

“You assume I know how to do that,” Bucky grumbles, and Steve scoffs and scruffs him playfully,

“Don’t worry about if you don’t know certain things, Sharon will guide you. You’ll never be punished for not knowing something, Buck. Only for disrespect or disobedience.” He pauses for a moment, letting the information sink in. He pets Bucky’s hair and watches where the kid’s got his eyes closed tight. “Do you understand?” he asks, but Bucky doesn’t answer, not even after a few seconds, so Steve gives the back of his neck another firm squeeze. “You don’t have control anymore, Sweetheart. Not over anything. And far from upsetting you, that should make you feel relieved. By the time you leave here it will.”

Not shockingly, Bucky growls. It’s just a piddly little thing from high up in his throat—an omega’s weak attempt at a sound their bodies aren’t equipped to make—but the intent behind it is clear. He struggles to pull away, Steve Holding him and pushing his face against his thigh until it passes. “Shhh. Calm down. Stop pulling away from me.”

Bucky continues to fight it for a second or two, but eventually he breaks off in an angry little sob. “Lemme go,” he grunts, embarrassed. “What is that? What’re you doing?”

“Holding you,” Steve tells him calmly. “Another thing I suspect you’re completely virgin to.”

Bucky huffs and shivers against him. “Shuddup,” he sniffles. “That’s not true.”

“Mhm. Some more of your school buddies?” Steve guesses, unsurprised when the kid’s flaming face tells him that he’s got it pegged just about right. “I see,” he says sadly. “So it wasn’t what people made it sound like, right? It didn’t make you feel any better. Then you got disappointed and you thought: ‘that’s it?’”

“No …”

“Mmhm. And since it wasn’t good enough, you decided you wouldn’t bother behaving the way anybody said you should. You figured there’s something wrong with you, so what’s the point in trying? Might as well act out, get attention that way. Because at least then you’d be getting a response from people. Am I getting warm?”

“Lemme go,” Bucky mumbles miserably.

“I’d like to, Sweetheart. But I don’t want to let go if you’re not ready.” Steve maneuvers his hand so that his thumb can dig more directly into Bucky’s glands. The omega moans, though he obviously hears himself and tries to stifle the sound. It’s both sweet and pathetic, and it makes Steve wince in sympathy. “It’s okay to react,” he tells him quietly. “Do you know why it feels like that?”

He isn’t expecting an answer from the kid, and he doesn’t get one. Bucky just cringes and tries to hide as much of his face against Steve’s thigh as possible, holding back the sounds that obviously want to come and making a face like he’s trying with all his might not to pass gas.

Steve tuts in gentle reprimand. “They call them the ‘happy hormones’. Dopamine, Serotonin, Oxytocin, Omgestrin.” He lets up on the pressure of his Hold when the smell of omega arousal hits the air. Bucky exhales hugely and slumps against him, all the tension from holding back his vocalizations leaving him in a rush. Steve hums knowingly. “You’ll learn about the science behind it in your classes.”

“I have to go to class?” Bucky asks, sounding wiped out. “Today?”

“No baby. Today is just for getting you settled in.” Steve tilts his head as he considers him. “Do you think you’re ready to work with me, or do you still feel like you’re gonna act up if I let go?” He waits him out patiently, knowing that when it’s new and unfamiliar, the first response most omegas give to having all of their control stripped away is fear and discomfort. “It’s okay if you need time,” he offers. “We can stay here for a little while longer.”

Eventually, Bucky gives a strained little shake of the head, his flushed cheek moving against Steve’s pants leg. But it’s more the fact that he’s visibly thought about his answer before giving it that convinces Steve they might be okay to move forward.

“Okay, good,” he praises, letting up most of the pressure from the back of Bucky’s neck. He smiles in relief when the boy doesn’t pull away. “Very good, Honey. I can tell you’re trying, and I appreciate that. You’re doing okay.” Bucky makes an unhappy little sound in his throat, but it’s more privately grumpy than it is bratty, so Steve lets it pass. “You’re a smart boy,” he tells him, carding a hand through his hair. “I’ve seen your transcripts, so I know you’re very bright. Smart omega like you, I’m sure you’ve got an idea about what’s landed you here. Some clue about why you’re in my office right now instead of back home in Boston. Am I right?”

“... yes,” Bucky whispers, like he’s still recovering the ability to articulate.

“Mmhm. Thought so.” Steve pets his hair. “Think you can tell me a little bit about that?”

“... I get in trouble for things.”

“Yes. Your parents told me that.” Steve feels him start to tense at the mention of his parents. “I know you disagree with them on this. Hell, you probably disagree on most topics, right? You don’t want to be here, don’t think you need to be, and they think you do.” Bucky nods teresely and Steve hums. “Well don’t worry, I’m not going to make you lie and say you’re happy about being here. I know you’re not. But can we at least agree on one thing? That for whatever reason, and no matter where you think it stems from, you’ve been uncomfortable for a while?”

Against Steve’s leg, Bucky is tense. He gives a tiny nod. “Yeah,” he breathes.

“Okay. And could we maybe agree that the way you’ve acted hasn’t exactly gotten you where you wanted to be?”

Bucky scoffs. “Yeah. You could say that.”

Steve smiles sadly. “Okay. Okay, good. So that’s two things we can agree on. I bet I have your parents beat on that front, then, huh?” He scritches playfully behind the kid’s ear, but stills when it doesn’t elicit anything positive. “So, why do you think that is, Bucky? Why do you think you’ve had these issues?”

“Dunno,” he pouts. “I don’t think about it that much.”

“Well why do you think a judge agreed that your parents should have custody of you for an extra two years?” Steve asks. “Would you say you do things impulsively?”

Bucky shrugs. “I guess.”

“Hm. That doesn’t surprise me. I’ve met a lot of boys like you. Even helped a few of them, if you can believe it.”

Bucky grumbles at that, shifting restlessly on his knees. “You don’t know me,” he mutters. He tucks his face farther down, and then Steve catches the angry little “... this is bullshit” that he whispers under his breath.

Steve pulls his hand away abruptly and widens his legs so that no part of him is touching Bucky. The omega sways in place and makes a fragile noise of surprise. He looks up at Steve and blinks, looking bereft. Poor thing hadn’t even realized he was taking such comfort from the contact until it was gone.

“Stand up,” Steve says sharply, using his Voice and the abrupt switch in tone to catch the boy off guard. Bucky obeys without even thinking about it, rising to his feet in front of Steve with a light frown, once again looking like he can’t quite understand why he’s obeying Steve’s commands. Steve nods at him. “Good. Now take off all your clothes.”

“What?”

He prevents a tantrum by reaching forward himself and undoing Bucky’s belt. “Your clothes,” he repeats. “Take them off and show me your body, right now.” He plays on the boy’s pride by tacking on a scornful, “What? I thought you said you weren’t some shy virgin. Gotta get over that embarrassment real fast, Little one.”

It works like a charm, Bucky’s countenance screwing up in anger before it smooths out again with false bravado. He squares his shoulders and makes direct eye contact with Steve as he toes off his shoes and finishes undoing his pants. He pushes them down and kicks them off to the side, then pulls his sweater hurriedly overhead. He stares at Steve once it’s off, and he probably thinks he’s acting so big and brave, but Steve sees him for exactly what he is: a scared little boy who doesn’t think he can depend on anybody else.

“Panties too, Sweetheart,” Steve prods, and when Bucky can’t seem to bring himself to do it, he leans forward to help. He gently pulls the omega’s underwear down, easing the waistband past his genitals and down his thighs. He encourages him with gentle touches to step out, and then Bucky winds up holding onto his shoulders for balance as he helps him step out of the socks, one foot at a time. By the time Steve’s sitting back on the couch to have a good look at him, Bucky’s standing before him completely naked.

Steve’s eyes track down to where he holds his arms ramrod straight at his sides, hands curled into tight little fists in an obvious effort not to cover himself. “Good girl,” Steve praises. “That was very good. Thank you.” He lets his eyes rake obviously up and down Bucky’s body, enjoying the sight of him, but more importantly letting Bucky see that he’s enjoying the sight of him. “You’re just lovely,” he tells him. On the Persian carpet, Bucky’s feet shuffle, shifting his weight in disquiet. “Shhh,” Steve chides softly. “Be still now, Honey. Let me look.”

The looking is, of course, not so much for Steve’s benefit as it is for Bucky’s. Steve’s already seen pictures and medical charts detailing every square inch of the omega’s body. This is about giving Bucky a taste of what it truly means to be vulnerable. He needs to feel seen, exposed, before he can ever truly learn to give in to his submissive urges. And he needs to learn to trust. Trust that the person caring for him won’t hurt him or let him down after he’s made himself vulnerable. It’s something that can only be gained through moments like this; experiences where he shows his metaphorical belly and bears his metaphorical neck. The more he learns to do that, the easier it’ll be to give in to what his body needs.

“Turn around and face the other way,” Steve says quietly, though still using his Voice to help him along in these first few moments of nakedness. Bucky obeys, turning, and Steve makes sure to rumble low in his chest for the boy to hear his approval. “Good girl,” he praises.

“M’not a girl,” Bucky grumbles, annoyed.

Steve tuts. “Come on, Buck. I’ve got two masters degrees and a Ph.D. And I just saw your little cocklet, didn’t I?”

“... yeah,” Bucky admits, though he also sullenly repeats: “M’not a girl,” under his breath.

“It’s a term of affection,” Steve scolds, eyes raking over the omega’s pert little backside. “Now be a good girl and stand still while Alpha looks at you.”

Bucky’s buttocks tense, the sides flexing gorgeously in response to the domination of being called a “good girl” all over again. That flex of muscles is involuntary, and a dead giveaway that if Steve were to grab his cheeks and spread them right now, he’d probably find his little hole clenching and releasing, too. In his slacks, Steve’s cock thickens with renewed interest. Bucky starts to whine almost subvocally. He shuffles his weight on his feet again, and the motion causes the room’s light to catch on a faint sheen. It’s a small amount, but it’s there. Right by his taint and the swell of his little sac, he’s got some slick smeared on his inner thighs.

Steve has to take a deep breath and give his dick a cruel pinch while he’s still got Bucky facing the other way. “Good,” he murmurs, letting a few more seconds tick by. “Very good.”

Bucky’s ass keeps flexing, muscles tensed and his hands still clenched up into tight little balls at his sides. “Can I move?” he grits.

“Not yet. Be still.”

Steve knows what’s going on in the kid’s mind and body right now. Most people watching Bucky would only recognize the anger, or the fear. It is those things, to an extent, but that’s not all it is. Even without that tantalizing little smear of slick, Steve would know, because can detect the deeper scent of satisfied omega. Bucky’s responding well to the orders and directions, miniscule as they are.

“Nobody wants to bully you here, honey,” Steve tells him gently. “It might feel like that at first. I bet that’s how you feel right now. I know you’re not used to such a … traditional pedagogy. But I want you to know I’m not doing this to be mean. Nothing that happens to you during your time here is done just to humiliate or demean you. It might make you feel that way at first, but in the end you’ll see that this is about helping you.”

Bucky’s facing the other side of the room, but Steve still hears the disbelieving scoff he gives. “I don’t feel like this is helping,” he says, tacking on a sarcastic “Sir” at the end.

Steve calmly leans forward and flicks the boy’s sac. Bucky yelps and all but jumps out of his skin, looking back over his shoulder with wide eyes and an outraged scoff. “Hey!”

“Hush. Turn back around and stand still.” Steve raises an eyebrow. “Unless you’d like another?” It’s almost amusing, how fast Bucky’s lips seal themselves into a thin line and he shakes his head with wide eyes. He turns around as ordered, and Steve softens. “Look,” he says gently. “I’ve been doing this for a long time now, and I’ve helped a lot of boys like you, okay?

“You think you have,” Bucky counters mutinously, shoulders tensing a second later as he anticipates having his balls flicked again for brattiness.

The only reason Steve doesn’t do so, is because this is a point worth addressing. “No, Baby,” he counters sadly. “It works. It really does. This isn't just an Alpha’s ego talking, or whatever you may think it is. I haven’t been Headmaster at this school for almost two decades for nothing. Trust me, we produce the desired results.”

“... whose, though?”

“Excuse me?”

Bucky shifts nervously. “Whose? Desired results?”

Steve has got to smirk at Bucky’s backside, at that one. Even cowed, it’s clear this boy is going to be a challenge. “Let’s just put it this way,” he drawls. “If my methods here didn’t produce well-behaved omegas, parents wouldn’t still be sending me their children to educate at sixty-grand a semester. And if that doesn’t carry weight in your book, then think of this: If my methods didn’t produce happy, grateful omegas, then all of my omega alumnus wouldn’t still be donating millions of their own dollars back to their alma mater each year, now would they?”

He can see from the way that Bucky’s posture slackens, then stiffens, then slackens all over again, that the boy can’t come up with a counter argument to that one. “Good,” Steve says with finality. “Remember that. I really do mean it, Bucky. I want you to take it to heart when I tell you that everything that happens while you're here is for you. To make you happy and healthy.” He can practically hear Bucky’s brain working up there, and sure enough it only takes a moment or two more of bare-assed vulnerability before the omega is snottily asking,

“Any other advice, Headmaster?”

“Oh sure,” Steve says cheerfully. “For example, I’d definitely advise you to try and reign in your attitude while you’re here. You and your ass will have a much easier time of it, if you do.” He’s laying it on heavy right now, but he’s had plenty of students like Bucky, and he’s always found that it’s best to come in hard and fast with the dominance, take them by surprise and play to their bodies’ own instincts before they can gather too much of a defense. Still, he switches to speaking in his most gentle and reassuring Voice as he tells him, “You’re handling this well, Bucky. I’m pleased with you so far.” He gives it another long moment, and then he murmurs, “Okay, Honey. You can turn back around now. Face me.”

Bucky turns slowly, one foot at a time, shifting on the carpet until he’s made a full turn. Steve isn’t surprised to see his little cocklet at half mast. He smiles gently to let him know it’s okay. “I expected that,” he tells him. “Did you know that it’s normal for your body to react that way?” He waits, but Bucky gives no answer. He’s glaring at the floor and quite obviously clenching his teeth. Steve hums. “You’re probably pissed at me right now, yeah?”

“Yes.”

Steve chuckles. “I appreciate your honesty, Bucky,” he teases. “And I know you’re pissed. It’s obvious. I’d be surprised if you weren’t.” He pauses, waiting until Bucky’s eyes flick up to him before he pointedly looks at the boy’s penis. “But you’re also aroused. Why do you think that is?” Bucky’s lips tighten into a thin, unanswering line, and Steve sits forward on the couch cushion. “C’mere.” He spreads his legs wider and pats his knee. “Step closer to me,” he Voices, and that time Bucky does listen and come closer, despite the attitudinal little huff he gives. Steve stills him with hands on his hips. “Don’t be embarrassed,” he says, before reaching to take him in hand.

Bucky gasps, his stomach sucking in and his body tensing up like he’ll pull away. Steve’s palm makes a loud ‘clap!’ as he delivers a quick smack to the side of his ass. “Be still.”

“... what’re you gonna do?” Bucky squeaks.

“I’m going to touch your genitals,” Steve tells him calmly. “And you’re going to hold still, unless you want to earn your first spanking.” He looks up at him, meeting those wide eyes with a calm nod. “I’ll put you over my knee right now if you need it,” he promises. Then he raises an eyebrow. “Do you need it, boy?”

Bucky’s face screws up, and Steve is honestly surprised when he controls himself enough that the only thing out of his mouth is a terse, “No.”

Steve smacks him again. “‘No Alpha’. Let me hear you say it.”

Jaw working in frustration, Bucky acquiesces with a gritted, “No, Alpha.”

Steve gives him a few seconds more of the warning look, just to make sure that he knows he’ll make good on the threat if he needs to. “Good,” he says, looking back between Bucky’s legs. “You know,” he muses, as he takes his time admiring the omega’s little prick. “This school isn’t just a place for academic learning. We teach all the classics, of course, but that’s probably the least important part of our curriculum. There are a lot of other things to learn: Manners, etiquette, self-care … and how to listen to your own body, how to understand what it’s trying to tell you, how to interpret the things you feel.” He cups his hand over Bucky’s cocklet and balls, holding them delicately in his palm. “I’ve barely touched you, yet you’re harder now than you were even thirty seconds ago. Do you know why?”

Above, Bucky gulps. “... fear boner,” he whispers, and when Steve snorts at that, he pouts and asserts, “It’s a thing.”

Steve smiles. “That’s cute, but no.” Gently, he takes Bucky’s stiff little prick in hand and plays with the wrinkle of foreskin that’s bunched at the tip. “Omegas are less than four percent of the population,” he murmurs. “And alphas not even double that. Which means, that despite your natural inclinations, you wind up spending most of your time around a bunch of betas. Of course it wouldn’t have been that way historically. Those things used to be arranged, but in modern society it has unfortunately become all too common.” He peeks upwards, pleased to see that Bucky’s staring down at him with parted lips and flushed cheeks.

“S-so?” he breathes.

“So, right now you’re in a room with an adult alpha male who’s touching you, and talking to you, and dominating you. And you’re biologically geared to respond to those things, especially when you haven’t had much regular exposure to alphas. That just increases your sensitivity. So that when I use my Voice, when you smell my scent, or when you see my big hand covering your tiny sex …” he cups him fully between his legs again and gives a little jostle “It’s all hardwired into your brain as positive, pleasurable. Your body likes it, seeks out more of it. That’s why you’re even getting a little wet right now.”

Bucky bristles in defense, “I’m not—”

“Shh. You don’t have to do that, honey. I already know.” Steve holds his prick and eases the foreskin down, revealing the delicate pink tip of him with an approving hum. “Mmhm. There it is. Look at that sweet little nubbin.”

Bucky all but stumbles into him, whispering a breathless, “Alpha …”

“That’s right. Good girl.” Steve steadies him with a chuckle. “You’re okay. Don’t lock your knees, honey. See what happens?” He trails a fingertip over the adorable little line of Bucky’s erection, eliciting another whimper from the boy. “It’s okay for you to call me that. I am your Alpha while you’re under custody here, and you may not think you care about that, but your body does. So even though you’re feeling all these other kinds of other emotions right now—anger, fear, embarrassment; your mind and body are still going to fight you on it. They’re gonna prioritize and respond to what you need, and if you don’t change your behavior to reflect those same priorities, then the only outcome you’re gonna get is dysfunction and illness.”

“I’m not,” Bucky says weakly, brow furrowed. “M’not dysfunctive.”

Steve smiles sadly. “Well first off, that’s not a word, baby.” He pulls on Bucky’s hips and leans back further into the couch, urging the boy to come down to sit on his lap. When he does, Syteve cups his chin and pecks him gently on the lips. It’s the most chaste kiss to ever exist, but the boy is still blushing when Steve pulls back enough to see his cheeks. Steve wraps an arm around his waist to draw him in against his larger body. “Now Bucky, I’m going to ask you something, and you don’t have to answer right away. I want you to take time to really think about it. And when you’re ready, you tell me.”

The boy’s looking up at him with wide, confused eyes that pluck at Steve’s heart, and Steve swipes his thumb just under his plush lower lip. “When’s the last time you were happy?” he asks quietly. Bucky’s expression instantly screws up, but Steve hushes him. “I don’t mean just happy from having fun in the moment, or from a specific thing that happened. I mean ‘happy’ as in content, consistently and thoroughly. When’s the last time you can remember when you felt truly settled in your skin?”

Bucky frowns. “I …”

“Shh. Remember what I said. Not right now. You just think on it.” Steve offers him a tender look and squeezes his chin. “You think you can do that for me?”

“... okay,” Bucky whispers.

Steve smiles. “Good girl.” He claps his hand on Bucky’s leg. “In the meantime, we’ve got quite a few things we have to do to get you set up: administrative and practical. Are you ready to see your room, get your uniform, a tour of the grounds, all that good stuff?”

Bucky nods, looking almost faint in relief—likely at hearing that he’s going to be given clothing. “Yes,” he breathes eagerly. “Please.”

Steve chuckles and pats his waist. “Thought you might say that. Alright boy, get up. We’ve got a lot to do.”

This story is an ongoing commission for an amazing supporter who wishes to remain anonymous. If you have a story that you'd like to see custom written, send me a message on Tumblr or reach out on my Kofi.

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sponsoredbytonystark · 8 months

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This Grandpa Bobby is unrelated to ‘Step by Step’ but thanks to a video I couldn’t get the thought out of my head, ft GiGi Athena and the fire fam kids

-for the sake of the story everyone just goes with the fact that they’re family, the kids are cousins no questions asked

-all the boys go to the same school (this may come into play later for a different story)

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Pumpkin Pancakes and Grandparent Sleepovers:

Bobby cracked open the door to Harry’s room noticing that all three of the older boys were sprawled out: Denny being half on the air mattress, half off and Harry’s hand somehow draped across Christopher’s face. He chuckled to himself before pulling the door closed, he had heard the tv still going around two am. Bobby doesn’t expect to see them for at least another hour.

He continued down the hall to what had been May’s room. Opening the door he was greeted with a smile out of the crib that sat in the corner, “good morning Jee, how my girl?”

“Pa,” her little voice whispered as she reached her arms up towards him.

After a quick change, Bobby moved into the kitchen. It was Saturday morning and he and Athena were on kid duty all weekend.

“What you thinking for breakfast, huh kid?”

The only response he got was the one year old snuggling deeper into his chest. Apparently this morning he was cooking one handed.

Kissing the top of her head, he pulled out ingredients for his pumpkin pancakes. It would pair with the fall morning outside and bonus points that it was Athena’s favorite.

He was caught up in the moment and swaying softly to the music coming from the record player in the corner, his arms still full of Jee, he missed Athena leaned against the counter.

He startled slightly when he turned around to see her there, “good morning darling,”

He walked around to give her a kiss before dropping the egg shells in the trash can.

“Want me to take her?”

“Nah, I’ve got it.” The sergeant smiled knowing how much her captain loved his kids.

“The boys are still sleeping, but I would expect them up once the bacon finishes cooking.” He said as he turned back towards the stove. Christopher Diaz could smell bacon from a mile away.

Athena enjoyed the view for a few more minutes before she got up to join her husband in moving around the kitchen. She poured a cup of coffee before moving to place it on the table, then returning for plates.

She smiled to herself as she heard the bedroom door open and looked up to meet the eyes of three very tired looking pre teen boys.

“Good morning my boys.”

She was met with grumbled responses as they fell into their chairs at the kitchen table.

She returned to her husbands side this time reaching for the toddler without asking. He willingly gave her up, and stretched his arms as he flipped the final pancake. He may feel it tomorrow but he would never tire of the snuggles.

He placed the pancakes, bacon, and fruit on the table and smiled as all three boys immediately perked up, “boys can you grab cups and the juice out of the fridge please?”

“I got the juice grandpa,” Denny said as he got up from the table

“I’ll get the cups,” Harry said before following his cousin.

Christopher followed before adding Jee’s sippy cup to her high chair positioned beside Athena.

“Captain did you make these pancakes just for me?” Athena asked as they passed the plates around the table.

“It may have been a determining factor,” he smiled a knowing smile in her direction

“Thanks for the bacon grandpa” Christopher added with his mouth full.

“What kind of grandpa would be if I didn’t know my kids favorite breakfast foods?” He smirked at them as he watched Denny dig into the fruit bowl in search of the kiwi Bobby had sliced up last night, and Harry with his own mouth full pancake because he was his momma son.

“So what’s on the agenda today kids?” Athena asked as she sipped her coffee

The boys all locked eyes with wide grins on their faces, “can we go to the zoo?” Harry asked for the group before Chris cut in

“They have new sea lions!”

Of course Denny followed in their rehearsed plea, “we’ve been learning about them in school Gigi!” Adding a little flair trying to rope in Athena.

The adults locked eyes before Bobby turned to Jee-Yun, “what do you think Jee?”

“Pa, zoo!” She smiled back as she smashed the blueberries Athena had put on her tray.

He locked eyes with his wife before returning his gaze to the boys, “Finish your breakfast and go get dressed.”

There was small chirps of excitement from the group before the boys started spouting animal facts at each other, no doubt most of which had come from Buck.

Bobby smiled again to himself as he bit into his own pancakes. How did he get so lucky?

———————————————————————————

@juliaor @mattoidmeerkat @logicloveandsense @livrisaihunanya @911flohr

#Grandpa Bobby Nash #Bobby Nash #Athena Grant #GiGi Athena Grant Nash #jee yun buckley han #christopher diaz #harry grant #denny wilson #911 fanfic #911 on abc #911 on fox #911 oneshot #mentioned Buck Buckley #911 firefam

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danganronpasurvivoraskblog · 1 year

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#Order 5: Advice from an Old Soldier.

Ok, so how do you do it again?

Ok, so it’s...

“Welcome to Canzanilla Café, can I take yer ooooorder~?”

Huh...

Ain’t that a bit...flamboyantly gay?

Would you rather I do anything else?

God no.

Well there we go then. Here, there’s more customers coming in, so I’ll lead by example.

Ok, looking forward to it.

*Kuripa steps out behind the counter and addresses one of the customers.

Welcome to Canzanilla Cafe, can I take yer ooooo-

Huh...!?

Uh...I think that’s a little different than what you did before.

O-Old man!?

Huh?

*Kuripa freezes as he sees who it is at the table.

Ah, Kuripa. Good to see you. I trust you are well?

W-Wait a sec...Old Man Hayamoto? What are YOU doing here?

Let’s just say that when you get to be my age, you oftentimes are overcome with the urge to travel and see new things that you may never have seen in all your years.

Kibin informed me what was going on here, so naturally, I was curious. Now that you’re here, I see why she brought it up. Not to mention Mr Ouma had also put in a good word about this place.

Who’s this Kuripa?

Ah. Is this a friend of yours?

This is the head bartender. She’s a friend from the USA, Maya Canzanilla.

You met my girlfriend Kibin, right Maya?

Yeah, why?

This old soldier is the man who raised her and taught her to survive when she was stuck alone during the tragedy. Kanjiro Hayamoto.

Right now, he’s employed as a chef at Kokichi’s cabaret club, the High Roller.

It is a pleasure to meet you.

Uh...you too sir.

*Maya leans over and whispers in Kuripa’s ear.

So...he’s one of the COOL old people, right?

Yeah. Like your wise grandad.

Mio nonno wasn’t wise.

Oh whatever. Show the man some respect or I bite you!

Alright jeez...!

*They turn back to Kanjiro.

We can continue chatting over drinks. What can I get you sir?

One Oolong Tea please. Oh, and I take it strong, thank you.

Here’s your tea sir~

Ah...!

*Kanjiro raises the steaming cup to his lips, smells, blows and then takes a sip.

Well?

Hm. Exquisite.

The tea is clear and glowing pleasantly...The fruity fragrance compliments the richness of the taste.

You can thank Maya for this one. Usually I make the tea, but she does this job a lot better than I do.

I don’t typically brew tea either. But you did tell me that this guy deserved the best we had.

Hahahaha...Thank you very much Kuripa. You’re far too kind.

And thank you, Canzanilla-sama, for the lovely drink.

Still...you really do remind me a lot of the old timers at my place back home. They tend to give...weird thoughts and opinions on their drinks as well.

Weird thoughts?

Well, not WEIRD weird it’s just...they sure have a lot to say about drinks.

Personally, I just gulp a drink down and say “This was yum”...and that’s it.

I see...so that’s what you mean.

I believe you may be misunderstanding those old folks intent, Canzanilla-sama.

Eh?

Savoring the drink you made and being mindful of it’s taste and quality is their way of showing RESPECT for your craft, and their gratitude to you for brewing it for them.

Tea and coffee of this quality is difficult to come by...but what’s even harder to come by is a barista who is capable of brewing in a way that perfectly suits the occasion AND the emotion.

What I’m saying is you’re a rare talent, and I’m sure your regulars appreciate what you do for them.

Wow I...I never thought of it that way.

You ok?

Yeah, it’s just...I dunno...

Guess I’ve just never seen eye to eye with elderly people my whole life. I never really truly got along super well with my Grandparents, even though they raised me. We were a happy family, but I don’t think I ever really understood them before now.

I’ve always just thought that...older people were annoying and didn’t shut up about things that I don’t understand or care about.

No matter what age you are, people come in all varieties of personalities. Some very good and others very bad.

But most of the time, it’s simply the desire of the older generation to teach the younger. It’s up to you whether you take their lessons to heart though.

I mean...I’m definitely interested in this whole “savoring tea” thing...Like I said, I’ve never really given my abilities much thought. How do you do it?

*Maya sits down opposite him.

Every type of caffeinated drink is unique. The more you drink, the more you will come to understand the subtle differences.

Tell me. It is typical for the old folks at your café to smell the tea before they taste it? Or do they stare at it for a long while before they actually take a sip?

Yeah.

That’s the old fashioned way of ascertaining the quality without drinking it. If a blend smells musty and looks too cloudy, that implies it’s of lower quality. If it’s soothing and clear on the other hand, that says it’s higher-grade.

Damn...I’ve been missing out. My sense of smell ain’t that great, but...I could at least tell the difference between a good and bad cup of tea.

Yeah...I didn’t know that either, and I’ve been mixing drinks since I was a kid.

It’s nothing to be nervous about. As I said when I first arrived, my old age makes me naturally more curious to learn, just as young age does. Knowledge is a vast and wonderful thing, and it’s never ever too late to learn something new.

For example, did you know this is the first time I’ve ever had tea in a cup like this?

For real?

Yes. Usually I have tea in more traditional Japanese cups. Cylindrical containers with bumps on them typically.

If you’re interested in learning how to evaluate tea, do it like this. Observe the tea, smell the fragrance, take a sip. Sight, smell and taste are all important for evaluation.

As long as you set yourself a plan and follow it, you can’t go wrong.

I...learned a lot today. Thanks sir. You’re a good teacher.

Hehe...Please. The only thing I have ever taught before is how to survive and how to use weapons. Not an honest living by any means.

What I shared with you today are my own habits as a traditional, old-fashioned, Japanese local.

Each region of the world has it’s own tea-based traditions and culture. If it wasn’t for the similarities between me and the elderly at your café at home. One should always respect the conventions of their own country.

You were born in Italy, right?

Yeah, in Bologna.

I think you’ll find that the advice I’ve given you may not be very useful back in your birth country.

Still, I hope you can take something away from this.

Yeah, I’ll be sure to remember it. Well, I am pretty scatterbrained, so I guess I can only promise to try.

*Kanjiro places his finished tea down on the table neatly, and then stands up.

Thank you for such excellent tea, Canzanilla-sama. It made my trip to the Future Foundation all the more enjoyable.

I take it you were originally here to visit Kibin?

Yes. It is the Christmas season after all.

*He takes his money out of his pouch and places it down on the table.

But if this cafe remains open for that season, then I will certainly become a regular.

Well, this is kind of a limited time event, so we’ve only got a few days left before we have to close the shop.

Regardless, you have my full support.

*Kanjiro bows and leaves the cafeteria.

...

That gave you a lot to think about huh?

Yeah...I’ve never really gotten along with old people but...maybe I just misjudged them. I always thought that smelling tea was just...something they did because they were old...I didn’t realize they were trying to compliment me.

...I’ll think on that.

#danganronpa survivor #danganronpa #hyper danganronpa h2o #hdrh2o #oc #danganronpa blowback #drb #maya canzanilla #kuripa kurafto #kanjiro hayamoto #canzanilla cafe arc

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prompty-ping · 2 years

Note

Hi!

Can you help me with some dialogue prompts for the first time the characters speak?

I love your blog, btw

Note: Hi! I know you asked for dialogue prompts, but I put some scene prompts in here because the first time people meet doesn't always really lend itself to dialogue prompts. Hope you don't mind. I also didn't know if you wanted romantic or platonic, so I did a bit of both, I hope this is what you wanted.

I ask that if you use my prompts, tag me in them. I don't need credit, I'd just like to see how you use them.

Our favourite pair had to meet some way.

Cw: one mention of jumping off a ledge, although the character is not.

Meet Cutes (Fluff)

Romantic

*trips and spills coffee* "Dude! This is a new shirt!" "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I'll pay for dry cleaning, or a new shirt, or—" "Just, invite me for another coffee and we'll call it even."

"Oh, Rosie! I'd love for you to meet my friend Ollie! Ollie works in the booth next to me, and he's so much fun. Rosie and I have been friends since highschool, and she's aspiring to be a lawyer!"

*Rosie sitting on a window ledge, taking the view* *Ollie, her neighbour, spots her* "Please tell me you're not going to jump." "What? No, I'm just waiting for the lunar eclipse at midnight.. There's also a fire escape under me." "Oh." "... Wanna join? I've got enough snacks. And wine."

[Ollie, walking his dog at the park, is approached by Rosie, who pets his dog] "*to dog* Hi! Who's a good boy? You're a good boy! *to Ollie* You've got a very cute dog." "Thanks, he's very friendly." *dog barks, happily* "What are you saying, boy, huh?" "I think that's dog for his human thinks you're cute." "Oh? What's dog for 'I think you're cute, too?'"

*Rosie knocks on Ollie's door* *he answers* "Hi, I'm Rosie. I live two doors down. You have a black and white border collie, don't you?" "Uh. Yeah." "Well. This is awkward, but I'm pretty sure we're going to be grandparents."

*Rosie approaches, Ollie, a stranger, at the bar* "Hi. Listen, my name is Rosie. Over there is my ex and his new partner. I can't let them know I'm here alone. Could you pretend to be with me for a bit?" *Ollie, surprised, looks at the booth, and slings an arm around Rosie* "Sure. Let's make him notice."

*both reaching for a thing [i.e. ice cream]* "Oh, you take it." "No, you, I insist." "No, I insist, you were first." "...How about we split it?"

Met at a wedding of each other’s exes, commiserate together as they’ve been put at the same table. Spend the duration flirting and laughing and ditching the party. They don’t intend to see each other after the wedding ends, so they don't exchange names. The hours that pass turn intimate and bittersweet.

*Ollie is beating the door of a male restroom, fed up of waiting* “COME. ON. MAN. My bladder is going explode if I wait any longer.” *Rosie comes out* “Sorry, the ladies was taken.” “Uh-uh… uh… hi.”

"Last but not least: Rosie and Ollie. Now that everyone's got a pair, you have two weeks to complete the project. Good luck." "Hi, I'm Rosie." "Hi, I'm Ollie, nice to meet you."

*Rosie and Ollie smile at each other coyly* "Dude, just talk to him already. He clearly thinks you're hot, you clearly think he's hot, so just put everyone out of their misery."

[In an apartment building, there is a flat that's blasting loud music] *Rosie, fed up, knocks harshly* "Can you turn th— Oh... wow."

[Rosie and Ollie have been selected from a crowd to play extras in a film] "Ok, I need two people to make out in the hot tub in the background of this scene. Any takers?" *everyone but Rosie and Ollie shake their heads. They look at each other, smirk, and nod* "Sure."

They're at a very boring setting, the waiting room speakers are tuned to the radio. A cool song comes on. Rosie and Ollie, who are sitting next to each other, start singing quietly to themselves, and they make eye contact and laugh. They make awkward chatter and flirt a bit. Somehow, through that encounter, they exchange numbers.

Rosie's car is breaking down as she's moving to a different part of the country. She just manages to roll into a mechanic's place. She meets a nice man who looks at her car, but will need some time for repair. The situation turns to flirting and they hit it off. Suddenly, neither of them want the car fixed yet.

Rosie and Ollie get stuck in an elevator without service. Bored, they chat, getting to know each other. Before they know it, they're being taken out. Since they got on so well, they exchange phone numbers.

Rosie is drawing intently in the park. Ollie is drawing inconspicuously nearby. Once he finishes, he walks up to her and brandishes his drawing, a lovely portrait of her, also drawing.

*Liz is trying to hype up Rosie to talk to Ollie* *Rosie is trying to dissuade her* *He walks by* *Liz pushes Rosie into him* "*to Ollie* Oh my god, I'm so sorry—" "No, no, it's totally fine—" "*yelling at Ollie* MY FRIEND THINKS YOU'RE HOT!" "Uhhh..." "Oh my god..." "*to Liz* I think she's hot, too!"

[Classroom] *teacher is talking about homework, stops himself to sigh* "Mr. Sherlock, I'm sure the back of Miss Dunham's head is fascinating, but I would suggest you pay attention now." *Ollie and Rosie blush, smiling to each other nervously as classmates snicker*

Platonic

[School] "My favourite animal is an eleph—" "YOU LIKE ELEPHANTS! DO YOU WANNA PLAY MARBLES WITH ME?!"

"Hi, was that guy bothering you? I'm really sorry about him, he's my brother who can't handle being nice to people for two seconds."

"Oh, you're the new girl! Nice to meet you, I'm Rosie. Do you wanna come eat with me and my friends at lunch? I promise we only sometimes bite."

"Don't sit there. Not unless you wanna freeze under the vent on the ceiling. Come sit here, if you'd like."

[Rosie is sitting at a table for four on a train, a group of people sit on the three other seats] "No, what I'm saying is that the MCU keep reusing story lines..." *chatter goes on* *Rosie tries to mind her own business* "You can join in, if you like." "Oh, I— okay."

At a karaoke night, there's a competition where people have to get together in groups, chat a little bit, decide on a song, and volunteer a member to sing a duet against another member of another group. A group need one more person. It's fun and chaotic. They exchange numbers and hang out together after.

*Ollie climbs up his tree house, and sees Rosie* "Uhhh... Who are you?" "*unbothered* Rosie." "... What are you doing here?" "Hiding."

Ngl: took inspiration from sitcoms, romcoms and real life meet cutes. See if you can spot them.

Fun fact: one of these was how I met someone, it was very cool.

-M

#writing prompts #writing propmts #fluff prompts #love prompts #dialogue prompts #prompts #writing prompt #prompt list #story prompt #writing ideas #dialogue prompt #meet cute

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thed4rkhand · 3 years

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Tarot pick a card

What your future spouse thinks of you?

Read before -

I’ll be including some intuitive stuff, just know that it’s general so not every thing is meant for you, take what resonates.

Since perception is a dynamic concept, ill relate this to what they will think of you the first time they meet you, as in after a proper interaction, not just impression.

Midway this just turned into me calling people out. I apologize

Pick an Emerald and let’s get started.-

Pile 1-

They may think you’re super career focussed, and somewhat stubborn in your approach. I’m getting strong Taurus and Capricorn energy here. You may come off as a little snooty or snobbish to people, even though you’re truly not trying to be. Resting bitch face? You may be a perfectionist, or at least come off as such. They type to say “Well, let me do it for you” kinds. Cancer and Capricorn, maybe virgo vibes. This pile is so earth heavy, you guys might be the kind whose looking for stability and chalk out your plans way in advance, but have an issue with really executing the plan.

You may be someone who is always juggling between a gazillion tasks, and always curious to learn about things. They’ll definitely pick up on these inquisitive qualities of yours, as well as often times being all over the place. You may have your head high up in the clouds too, Sagittarius and Pisces? You definitely dilly-dally a lot, for example, you want a fitter body, but aren’t ready to workout, even if you chalked out a whole schedule to follow the night before. You’re often too lost in your thoughts, and this duality of air and earth is super prominent in your first impression here. Drawn to pile 2? Go there too

Lastly intuitive stuff - you may have a “everything will come to me on its own attitude”/ may own a dog/ be a bit traditional/ fond of wearing hats?/ wacky inventions/ green/ maroon/ cowboys/ horses and guns/margaritas/ short height/ intercut a lot with guys/ indulge in drinking / introvert

Pile 2-

Ooh pile 2, if you felt pulled to pile 3 then check that out too. Now coming onto your reading, you may come off as a bit serious and tired. You may be the kind of person who feels the have the burden of the whole damn world on their shoulders, and have forgotten how to be childish again. Moon in Scorpio? You guys may reminisce a lot about the past, and are extremely self conscious of what others think of you. You display this quite clearly. My fellow escapists, is this you? They’ll see those tendencies in you, how you’re so somber and avoid emotional or psychological intimacy. You try to brush things under the carpet and act as if all is good and fine. Where are my Virgo and Aquarius babies?

They’ll see you going through an upheaval at this point. I also feel like people here don’t have great relationships with their parents? They’ll see you bicker a lot, or just having straight up given up. They can alternately also see you as someone to whom their parent’s approval and opinion means a lot. You may be the mother of the group, always consoling people and helping them, but also you have terribly toxic friends? Capricorn and cancer, also pisces babies here. They’ll see this too. You can be incredibly hard on yourself and very anxious, inner turmoil in your head. However you’ll be very private about such matters. Hang on darlings!

Lastly intuitive stuff- hairbands/marmalade/drinking/blue/scissors/knives/grandparents/huts/ relaxing/ blonde/ construction/ hands/ eyebrows/ crockery/ coffee/ gems/ pictureframes/ self victimization/ home chores/ patriarchy/ feminism

Pile 3-

So your person might think you’re full of potential, though a bit indecisive. You have so many different ideas, but you don’t know where to start, and this often leaves you exhausted and uninspired. You might be somewhat hyper active and impatient, you want results and you want them now. Aries and Gemini babies, please reveal yourselves. You’re highly charismatic, and somewhat impulsive. You may rush into things without a well though out plan. You get deeply engrossed in things, sometimes even obsessive over things. You may be extremely into foreign cultures and learning about them too! Aquarius and Sagittarius babies cmon.

You might put on a happy face and brave through things, but ultimately it’s not you. You may bottle up emotions and at times be vindictive. Read a lot of self help book? Maybe you’re into psychology. You may have very clinical feelings, and find it hard to be empathetic. You be be extremely cynical and try to perfect every task, only as far as it concerns you. With other’s you’re always forgiving. Drawn to pile 4? Are you guys into law? My libra babies? They may think you’re really smart, and have a very objective sense of justice. You may be extremely blunt in your approach, no nonsense kinds too. You may be into debating.

Lastly intuitive stuff- books/ kebabs/ grills/ outdoors/cycles/ cooking/ cleaning/ OCD?/ painting/ fizzy drinks/ daydreamer/ Sean Connery?/ converse/ dungarees/ autumn/ meadows/ all bark no bite/ ankle ache

Pile 4-

Eeesh, so many cards flew out. I think I have my chatty bunch here. They’ll firstly instantly see you as their soulmate, however ludicrous it sounds. Things between you will fall into place. They’ll think you’re far too mature for your age and very philosophical. They’ll think you’re extremely charming. My Libras and Pisces babies here. They think you’re juggling too many commitments, and are a bit all over the place. Do you guys have some health issues here? They may pick up on that too! They may however think you’re a bit stingy and materialistic honestly though. You place too much importance on money and status here. You may enjoy the life of comfort, and like to micromanage everything. My Taurians and Leos come out.

They may think you’re extremely practical and don’t take anyone’s shit, if something is not suiting you, you walk out for good. You are keen at identifying issues like this, but sometimes you don’t know when to stop with your personal endeavors. You get too hung up on the time and money or effort you spent, and keep trying to fix things, even beyond repair. Cancer babies, virgo babies, come out. You may be an extremely competitive person, and sometimes cat impulsively, only to regret it later. You may win fights, but at what cost? You be be moody and hold grudges.

Lastly intuitive stuff- gardening/ sun hats/ flowers/ ropes/blue/ dresses/ lace/ thread and scissors/ dog/ ballet/ dancing/ mischief/ feminine/ gingham checks/ heels/plates/ intuition/ confused/ red car/ planes/Scarfs/ Marylin Monroe?

Anywhoo let me know if you guys enjoyed it or have any other suggestions!!

#tarot #pick a card #pac #tarot reading #future #intuitive #tarot pac #pick a pile

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aquarii-writes · 3 years

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Memories (Foolish x GN reader)

Notes: heavily implied AFAB as well as Reader being given different variations of momma/mommy. This turned out a bit sadder than I intended fuckin hell

WARNING: Death, pregnancy/after birth

Genre: angsty

WC: 1,864

Memories meant the world to Foolish. The memory of meeting you, your first kiss, and when you first spent the night were ingrained in his head. They were everything to him; especially since one-day he knew you wouldn't be here again.

Though seeing you now with his son? This might be the most special yet. Your baby boy sat wriggling in your arms. His eyes had yet to open but Foolish could already guess that they'd be green like his.

The baby's skin was already shining a gold color once all the blood was wiped away from his body. Tears fell from Foolish's eyes as he got closer to you. Sweat lined your forehead but you couldn't have been more beautiful.

"Can.. can I hold him?" Your husband's voice broke as he spoke to you. With a gentle chuckle you allowed your husband to take the baby in your arms; your precious son.

Holding the bundle in his arms, Foolish swayed to try and get Jr to open his eyes. "Common buddy. Lemme see your eyes" Foolish cooed at his son.

Puffy attended to you. Your bleeding had yet to stop but so far it was normal, just needed a few stitches to patch everything back up.

Jr kept wiggling around in his father's arms. Poor thing just wanted his momma so he cried out for them. Jr's crying broke his father's heart, did the baby already not like him?

With a swift hushing Puffy pulled the baby boy away from his father and placed him back to his momma.

"Dad?" Puffy turned to her son, a curious look settled on her features. "Are they supposed to be this tired? I know birth is hard but-"

Puffy cut off her boy. "Everything (Y/n) is experiencing is normal bubs. They'll get their strength back in due time"

But that was nearly two months ago. You had suddenly grown weaker. Puffy couldn't find a reason nor could Ponk. The two of them checked you over and over yet still found no reason why you got so sick.

However your baby boy kept getting stronger. After you and Foolish were home and got back settled into a routine Jr quickly found comfort within his father's arms. Sweet thing was passed around between aunts, uncles, and grandparents but he would cry and scream towards everyone of them till he was back in your or Foolish's arms.

Though Jr seemed the sense that his momma was getting weaker. His glassy eyes would only stop when he found you.

Time seemed to work in Foolish's favor. He tried everything he could think of but nothing seemed to make you better. Till eventually just four months after Jr was born you started to finally get better.

So everything got better. You started to become yourself again and eventually the two of you had another child. A baby girl named Fin.

Jr was around a year and a half when his sister was born and the boy wouldn't stay still as he wanted to see you. Once everything was said and done Jr couldn't wait to see his momma and sister.

His jumbled sentences calling for Foolish to let him see momma. "Calm down we're gonna see momma" papa's chuckles made Jr smile. Once finally in the room Jr cuddled up to you and asked to see Fin.

Finley was wrapped in Jr's old baby blanket and small fins poked out from her head and back. Tiny little scales littered parts of her skin and looked like freckles. She looked more like a shark than a totem, but she was very much still Foolish's daughter.

A familiar worry bubbled up in Foolish's stomach. Would you get sick again like you did after Jr's birth? Birth will always be hard, but maybe it was easier this time now that Finley was a second baby.

Sensing his worry you waved for your husband to come over. "I'll be okay love-" the sweetness in your voice could've made him cry, "But incase something happens promise me that you won't neglect the babies. They will need their father"

Foolish's kisses lingered longer than he intended. Your two children were now asleep in your arms, but Foolish still worried. Your smile, albeit rather tired, was still bright.

"Can I hold her?" the line brought a sense of nostalgia. A gentle smile rested on your face as you held your daughter out to your husband.

"Of course my love"

Rain fell in waves as your daughter slept against her father. He held an umbrella over himself and Jr. The little boy didn't understand what was going on but kept crying that mommy wouldn't be able to get up if they were in the dirt.

While somber Foolish didn't let his tears fall till well after his children's bed time. Finny was only 4 months old and Jr was almost 2 a widow in just a matter of months.

The atmosphere was somber as Puffy picked up her grandson and attempted to explain that mommy won't wake up again, but just gave up in the end. Silent tears would just run down the rams face.

Foolish wouldn't leave your grave for a while. His arms numb from holding his baby girl but she was still asleep; it was only her whimpers to the cold and rain did he think to finally return inside.

Once the children were down to sleep did Foolish finally let out a sob. Heart wrenching cries filled the living room as he poured his heart out to his hands. You had written a letter before you passed and he couldn't bring himself to read it, at least not now. Not after he had to bury you.

Memories meant everything to Foolish, and he didn't think that he could forget you any time soon. Though he could still see you from these memories and from your letter and he could still physically see you in your children.

Jr had your hair though it was much darker while Finny had your eyes. Beautiful (e/c) eyes always shined through the little girls iris'. He could see you in how Jr acted and the way he touched his sister; always so gentle just as you had taught him to be. Finny would always reach for the things she knew were yours.

It just brought him to tears however Foolish knew new memories would be made with you still in them. Your beautiful eyes and personality will always be present in your children.

After a few years, once he got a handle of caring for two children on his own, Foolish finally opened your letter. Elegant script was written on the page.

'My Dearest Foolish,

If you're reading this then I've died. Whether it be not long after I write this or after a long life I am still dead, though I have a feeling its the former. How have our children turned out? I don't know if Jr will understand and Finley will have no memory of me... Does Finny still have my eyes? Is Jr still gentle with Finny? I know little boys can be so rough..

But aside from such please know that I love you. If I held the choice I would've stayed longer, but I'm on my last life. Maybe Lady Death could give me a pass? Maybe I could come back and see my babies? Oh if I continue thinking like this I'm going to cry..

I love you more than anything in this universe and I love our children all the same. I know that some day you'll find another to love, maybe it'll be me reincarnated? Just.. don't dwell on my death too long, if not for me for our children. Jr and Finny deserve to see their father happy.

I do hope that the both of them know I love them very much.. I know memories mean everything to you so please make new ones with Jr and Finny. Let me live on through them.

Forever with love, your dearest (Y/n)'

Tears fell on the aged parchment. It had been weathered before, presumably from your tears, but new wrinkles formed. Foolish has new memories. Your children did keep you alive within them.

Finny's eyes, while hers, were still yours. Her eyes shown just as bright as yours once did. While Jr is as gentle as ever with his baby sister. Snowchester was a new home for them all when you died, but it now means so much to the babies.

Foolish covered his mouth as he leaned over the coffee table. He didn't notice the tiny feet padding towards him. Finley's small hands gripped at her fathers fore arm. Big (e/c) pools stared into him.

Acting as though he wasn't crying Foolish dried his eyes and picked up the little girl. "What are you doing here sweetheart?"

"I got cold" Finny mumbled to her father and curled into him. Her scales had turned a golden color after you had passed. It was a shame you couldn't have seen how pretty Finny turned out to be, even at 5.

"Where's bubbas then?" evening out his tone Foolish sat back with Finny. The snow outside had started back up again to add a new layer to the landscape.

"Bubba is playing with Michael still. Mr. Tubbo and Mr. Ranboo asked if I wanted to come inside, but I wanted to play with you" Finny looked up at Foolish. She was tired and wanted a nap so she cuddled further into her father.

"Well you look pretty tired, sweets, how about we just go to sleep?" Finny shook her head no and stared at the open letter.

"Why were you crying daddy?" Finny's voice was quiet. Almost like she wasn't supposed to ask the question.

"Well... I was remembering mommy and reading a letter she gave me.." squeezing his girl, Foolish rested his head on hers. Jr nor Finny had ever really asked about their mother.

"What was mommy like? Mr. Ranboo says she was really nice before she went to sleep for a long time.." Finny played with the ends of her hair as she spoke to her father. Memories of you flooded his mind. The most prominent thing was how loving you were. You gave up all 3 of your lives for people you cared for.

"Well.. mommy loved you and bubbas very much. She loved a lot of people. Mommy was also very kind and helpful.. She would do anything to make sure people were happy-"

"Do I look like Mommy?" Finley gazed at her hands. The golden freckles that glittered her skin were something she had seen on no one else.

"You look a lot like mommy, Finny" Foolish lied through his teeth. She had your eyes but looked very similar to him over all. But if his little girl is happy then what of it?

Seemingly satisfied with her prodding Finny became silent again, and soon enough her little snores alerted Foolish to the fact that she was asleep.

I don't think I'll ever forget you (Y/n), but Finny sure won't let me try

#mcyt imagine #dsmp imagine #foolishg imagine #foolish gamers #foolish x reader #foolish x y/n #dream smp #mcyt #dsmp #mcyt x reader #dsmp x reader

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nxrthmizu · 3 years

Text

love in bubble wraps.

fandom | haikyuu!!

pairing | kuroo tetsurou x reader

genre | fluff

w.c | 1.9k

author's note | based on a real life experience... :)

Love, you think, comes in many forms. Sometimes love is a warm, home-cooked meal that is now cooked at least once a week because you told your mother you liked it. Other times, love is laughing and crying alongside the friends you’ve known since pre-school because everyone passed their highschool finals with flying colours. Throughout our lives, we gradually come to meet the different forms of love, because it comes in all shapes, colours, and sizes.

First, we learn that love is a roof that you can always turn to when a storm blows in. Then, we learn that love is knowing that there are people who will drop everything to help you when your car breaks down in the middle of nowhere. Lastly, we learn to interlock our fingers with the one we wish to walk to the end of time with.

Then again, love varies from person to person— Just like how the goddess of love, Aphrodite, looks different to every soul that sets its sights on her; Beauty truly lies in the eye of the beholder. For some, love comes in the form of a warm body to cuddle next to on a rainy day. For others, love comes in the form of a jewelled ring. For you, love comes in the form of a 6’2 man who still doesn’t know how to tame his bedhead.

Tetsurou is often too busy for his own good, always running around here and there to secure contracts, ensuring that Japan can make a name for itself during the Olympics. He books train tickets to opposite ends of Japan at least once a month, leaving before the sun rises and returning after it sets. The sun never dictates his work day, because while his coworkers work from nine to five, Tetsurou works until he finishes his tasks.

Okay, so your husband is a bit of a workaholic. And maybe not just a bit.

“L/N-san,” Your colleague asks one day out of sheer curiosity. A group of women are gathered around the snack station, sipping on cheap, machine-produced instant coffee as they gossip about their marital lives instead of working. “Now that I think about it… I’ve never met your husband, have I?”

“Ah,” You sweat-drop nervously at this. Wonderful— Your parents are already pressuring you about how Kuroo rarely visits with you— And now your coworkers, too? “He’s quite busy. He works very hard to make sure that we’ll be well-off in the future.” You respond, knowing that your reply is just a thinly-veiled way of saying ‘He’s rarely home,’.

“Oh, that’s awful,” Wherever you go, there’s always a middle-aged lady who has nothing better to do than to prey on the weak spots of your life, “It must feel lonely. You must feel so sad when you see my husband pick me up from work.” A smirk dances up her lips as she waits for you to walk into her trap, smiling as widely as a spider watching its incoming meal.

“Not really,” A practiced smile counters hers as you take a sip of your coffee. “I know Tetsurou loves me— There’s an unbreakable trust between us. He might not be home often, but I know that he’s working hard so that we can have a better tomorrow… And that’s sort of comforting, in a sense. Knowing that Tetsurou wishes for a future where we’re financially stable, where we can just spend a whole day doing nothing in each other’s presence…”

A chorus of ‘awws’ makes you blush. Out of the corner of your eye, you see the middle-aged coworker huff in failure. You mentally fist-pump the air at your victory.

“Anyway, I heard that you got engaged last weekend, Shiho-san,” Changing the topic quickly, you smile when the attention of all the ladies instantly redirects to the said woman, who blushes fiercely as they all coo at her ring. “Congratulations!”

“Oh my! He bought you such a beautiful ring… Ah, Shiho-san, you’re so lucky!”

“My husband also bought me a new bag last week,” The middle-aged woman chips in proudly, cocking her head towards her cubicle, where the leather handbag sits atop a tower of documents. “It’s very expensive.”

“That’s nice of him! It’s been forever since my husband bought me something.” Sighs another lady. Most of the group hums in agreement, sharing sympathetic looks with those that share the same fate.

“At the beginning, when we were still dating, Hayato used to buy me so many things, now…” The coworker that brings homemade cookies every New Years’ party says, looking dejected. “It’s like once we’re married, they don’t have to worry about making us happy anymore…”

“Ah, what about you, L/N-san? Does your husband buy you things often?”

You groan internally when the attention shifts to you once more. Honestly, you’re just there to listen and enjoy your coffee— Must you keep getting dragged into the conversation? “Well, personally I don’t really need my husband to buy me things to keep me happy, but… He does bring back trinkets whenever he travels.” You think about it for a while, then brighten when you remember the latest thing Tetsurou brought back for you.

“What is it?” Your change in expression isn’t missed by your coworkers, who preen with curiosity, excited to know what made you brighten up.

“Ah, it’s nothing… I promise, you’ll be disappointed if I tell you.” You chuckle.

“Come on!” “Be a good sport, L/N-san!” “We’re curious now, you can’t not tell us!”

“Oh, fine.” You sigh, “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

[ Three days ago, Saturday ]

You were on the couch, binge-watching Grey’s Anatomy with the Netflix subscription Tetsurou got for you to occupy yourself with while he was out of town. Your cat, Kazume (nicknamed after your husband’s best friend) lazed on your lap, yawning once in a while and swatting at the stray threads from your sweater.

Somewhere in between your fifteenth and seventeenth episode, the front door chirped with the sound of someone inserting a key into the lock. You perked up at the noise, Kazume yelping in protest as he almost slipped off.

“Oh, sorry Kazu.” You said quickly, a smile widening your lips as the front door opened.

“I’m ho—” Before your husband could finish his sentence, you were already at his side. Kazume meowed loudly from the couch, complaining about you abandoning him for another man. Tetsurou’s eyes softened, the edges of his hazel irises worn down by exhaustion. You took his laptop bag from him, as well as the folders he has in hand, balancing them like how you would balance your three grocery bags when Tetsurou wasn’t around to help. “I missed you too, but are you sure you can carry all of my files with one hand?”

“Yes!” You replied confidently, showcasing your balance as you wobbled through the living room with all of your husband’s stuff. Tetsurou’s laugh echoed through the apartment as he followed you, his reflexes coming into play as he dived for a falling file. “Oops.” You giggled, helping him up after he practically hurled himself at the floor.

Tetsurou shook his head, sighing fondly while he hugged you from the back, taking comfort in the familiar smell of your hair shampoo. “I missed you.” He mumbled.

“Me too.” You hummed, reaching back to stroke your hands through his still-untamed bedhead.

“Oh, before I forget,” Tetsurou leapt up suddenly, chucking his backpack onto the ground. “I brought back something for you!”

“I already have like, twenty-five keychains from Hyogo,” You reminded him, “Please tell me it’s not a…” Your voice trailed off when Tetsurou proudly whipped his gift from his backpack, hazel eyes shining for your reaction.

“... So?” Tetsurou grinned widely, like a five-year-old child holding up his drawing for his mother to critique.

“Oh my god, I love you.” You declared in your 80 sq ft kitchen, grabbing the gift from him. “I’ll clean up your stuff, go take a bath and we can have dinner while watching the…'' You pursed your lips as you try to recall the information that kept evading you like an annoying fly. “... 15th? 16th episode of Grey’s.”

“You started that without me? I said I wanted to watch that.” Tetsurou pouted petulantly like a child.

“I finished all the other stuff I wanted to watch,” You told him unapologetically. “And Kazume wanted to watch it too. Now hurry and take a bath or I’m starting without you.”

Twenty minutes later, you were cuddled up to your husband, who did not bother to comb his hair (“It’ll just be messy later anyway,” His reasoning was). Every few seconds, he would scoop some cold mash potato out of the giant bowl (The two of you were too impatient to heat it with the microwave) and feed you. All throughout the episode, there was the constant pop-pop-pop of you working your way through the giant piece of bubble wrap Tetsurou had brought home for you.

“You know, I was thinking,” You hummed as Tetsurou pressed ‘Next Episode’. “If It were any other woman, they might have slapped you for bringing just bubble wrap home after a whole week away.”

“Well, then I’m lucky that you aren’t ‘any other woman’, am I?” Your husband smiled, pressing a gentle kiss onto your lips before picking up the mash potato bowl again. “Are we just going to have mashed potatoes for dinner?”

“I bought spicy instant noodles yesterday, we can have that later if you want.”

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

[ Present, Tuesday ]

“That’s actually so sweet of him!” Your colleague coos as you finish your story. “Wish I had a husband like that…'' Even the middle-aged lady begrudgingly nods in agreement. For a moment, you feel a surge of pride— It was your husband they were talking about— Your sweet, hardworking, dork of a 6’2 bedhead.

“You wouldn’t be able to survive.” Another lady snorts. “That guy is away for weeks at a time.”

You hum. “Well, at least he calls back every night, regardless of how tired he is.” In the corner of your mind, you remember that he makes sure to call his grandmother every weekend, and that he sends his parents (and grandparents) money every month, that he visits your parents the first Sunday after he’s back from his trips— Not to mention that he always brings a gift of wellness products (The most recent one was a box of abalone).

The group of women swoon once more.

“Well, I guess we should get back to work,” You dispose of your paper cup in the trash, brushing your hands off. “See you ladies later.”

The moment you’re back at your desk, you take out your phone to text your husband, who is, no doubt, going to be very, very confused.

[ y/n ] 2.37pm

— we have a problem

[ tetsu <3 ] 2.39pm

— what’s wrong???

[ y/n ] 2.38pm

— i may have accidentally caused 20 women in my office to fall in love with you

[ tetsu <3 ] 2.38pm

— what ???

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

you know it's love when your dad comes home with this giant piece of bubble wrap and your mom literally squeals and snatches it to immediately start popping it on the couch while browsing facebook on her ipad

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! fluff #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader fluff #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo #kuroo tetsurou x reader #kuroo tetsurou x y/n #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsurou x you #kuroo tetsurou fluff #[ris writes]—✧

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soulmate-game · 4 years

Text

Bio Dad Bruce Wayne Month 2020

Day 1: Meeting for the first time

Not my best work, but decent. I hope you enjoy!

—*—*—*—*—*

Mari was intelligent. That much could not be disputed— and despite her dislike for the sciences in general, she was fully capable of comprehending them when she wanted to. She just usually didn’t care enough to try. But genetics? That was kinda cool. So, when she was ten years old and they began their short unit on it, she was obsessed. And by obsessed, she dove in head first. Like, the fact that her eye color didn’t match either of her parents or grandparents. How could she have blue eyes when none of them did? She delved in deeper and deeper until she uncovered a truth her parents hadn’t wanted her to figure out quite so soon.

She was adopted.

Mari never told her parents about her discovery, the epiphany only managing to sate her curiosity. Who needed blood relation when her parents loved her like real ones anyway? But as the years passed and certain life changes came up, she couldn’t help but feel intrigued by the mystery of where her DNA came from. The heroism thing had to have some root in genetics, right? Okay, so maybe she was just looking for someone to be mad at besides Master Fu. But still, could she be blamed?

So, when Marinette was thirteen years old, she traced her DNA back to her biological parents. And for a while, that was it. She had once again sated her curiosity. She didn’t need anything else. Her mother was dead, and she doubted her biological father knew a thing about her. So Marinette forgot about her discovery, or at least let it sink into the recesses of her brain. And there it stayed, until she was eighteen.

—* — * — * — * — *

It had to be one of the most accidentally dramatic days possible. Top floor of Wayne Enterprises, in one of Bruce’s massive conference rooms with every member of his large family in attendance. Even Kori and Mar’i were there, and Jason’s boyfriend Roy. Everyone was getting fairly restless, considering that Bruce had only informed a few of them (Read: just Dick, who was vibrating in his seat and not soothing anyone’s nerves) about what they were even all called in for. In their civilian identities, no less. It was very odd. Damian, not least of all, was sitting beside Bruce with his jaw clenched but eyes scanning the room in curiosity. He had come a long way from the surly ten year old, and he hadn’t even killed anyone in four years. He had well and truly become a Bat, and with that progress came the lessening of his old temper and brattiness.

Make note: lessening. Not erasure.

It wasn’t long, maybe ten or fifteen minutes of Bruce checking his phone and grinning secretively without answering anyone’s questions, before a businesslike tap-tap-tap sounded on the door to the conference room. Immediately, everything went silent. Kori, Tim, and Jason stopped trying to get Dick to say anything intelligible and went instead to just keeping the man in his seat at all. Bruce let out a rare, soft chuckle before raising his coffee mug to his lips. He called out:

“Come on in, miss MDC. We’re ready for our meeting,” before taking a long sip.

And as soon as the door opened all the way, admitting a short woman of asian descent with navy black hair brushing the bottom of her shoulder blades and piercing (familiar. Too familiar) deep blue eyes, he promptly choked. Trying his damndest not to get coffee everywhere, Bruce devolved into a coughing fit even as his eyes continued to flitter up to the figure just admitted into the room. The woman pretended not to notice his suffering, closing the door behind her and walking forward towards the side of the rectangular-set-up ring of tables that was closest to her and also unoccupied. She plopped a heavy bag down onto the table, reaching in and pulling out a large red and white polka-dotted journal from within, along with a black pen. But despite her businesslike movements and her silence, nobody missed the way that her far too familiar stunningly blue eyes twinkled in suppressed mirth. She didn’t seem surprised at all.

That was the last time Bruce was ever gonna let Tim do someone’s background check on his own. He should have at least looked at the file Tim had made, but of course not. Tim was capable, he trusted the boy with half of their entire family’s company. One background check on one highly reputable designer? Of course he could trust Tim.

Except apparently not. This is what Bruce got for keeping secrets.

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” Bruce spoke once he got a handle of himself, pushing back his chair almost hurriedly and standing. Damian followed suit, laser focused on his father along with everyone else who knew just how out of character the older man was being just then. It was hard to fluster Bruce at all those days, let alone make him choke and hurry to stand. “I— Welcome to WE. I’m—“ Bruce was cut off by a soft chuckle.

“Bruce Wayne, my biological father and employer for the next few weeks. I know,” Marinette interrupted, sending a sly smile his way. “I had a feeling somebody didn’t actually tell you my name. I was planning on coming to Gotham later this year after I graduated Lycee and demanding to get to know you, but it looks like you did the hard work for me without even knowing. But,” her smile widened in good humor as she walked up closer to Bruce, holding her hand out for a shake. “I do have to say, now that I’ve seen you in person I feel a bit cheated. With how tall you are, you’d think I would have inherited at least a couple more inches.”

“Excuse me? Who do you think you are, claiming to be a Wayne?” Damian asked, tone sharp and his emerald eyes glaring straight towards her. Bruce just took Marinette’s hand, shaking it gently from surprise, but his foot gently kicked his son in the ankle.

“Damian,” Bruce said simply, the single name laced with warning as it came out of his mouth. He turned his attention back to the girl in front of him. “It is nice to finally meet you in person, Marinette. I admit, I did not know of our relation until a few years ago, and I wasn’t in the right mindset back then to welcome another child. Besides, I had it on good authority that your adoptive parents are more than wonderful to you.”

Marinette shrugged. “I don’t mind. I didn’t look into who my biological father was until I was thirteen, anyway. I don’t think things would have ended well if you had just shown up in Paris one day asking to be involved in my life. Enough of that though,” Marinette turned to the sixteen year old by Bruce’s side now stiffened and wide-mouthed. His entire expression, subdued as it was, still managed to clearly telegraph betrayal. And then those eyes locked on Marinettes, and the emerald simmered into something much more vile and acidic. Marinette was not perturbed, merely giving the younger boy a smile and holding out her hand for a shake.

“You must be my half-brother, Damian. I expected someone carved out of stone, with how the tabloids paint you as unfeeling and cold,” she joked. Damian glared harder. She raised an eyebrow. “You seem pretty heated and angry, like a hissing cat, to me. And by the way, I never claimed to be a Wayne. My last name is Dupain-Cheng, and I don’t plan on changing it anytime soon. Having the same blood relation as you does not mean I plan to throw away the name given to me by the ones who actually raised me. But, it does mean that I will get to know you one way or another. I’m not easy to get rid of, and I’ve always wanted a sibling or two.”

That was when the room couldn’t hold it any more; everyone bar the three in the center of the room burst out laughing. It wasn’t too raucous, confusion dampening the hysteria that usually would have taken over, but there was a good round of chuckles and laughter. When it settled down, Damian’s shoulders had slightly relaxed but he still hadn’t taken Marinette’s hand. Instead, he turned to his father again.

“Explain.” He demanded. Bruce sighed, his gaze connecting with Marinette’s own identical one. He searched her for any hesitation, but only got a flash of a bright smile in return. Bruce straightened his shoulders, clasping his hands behind his back and turning to face Damian and the rest of the room.

“I found out about Marinette shortly after Damian was… introduced to the family,” Bruce admitted, resisting the urge to glance at Marinette after the hedged mention of how he met Damian. “I decided to scour every resource I had to make sure I couldn’t be surprised by another biological child. And, lo and behold, I found out that I was right to do so. Her biological mother passed away in childbirth however, so she was adopted by a couple in Paris. I did not see any need to contact her at the time. A friend of mine did happen to be in Paris back then though, and hung around to make sure Marinette was being treated well before leaving again.”

“You sent a friend of yours to spy on me?” Marinette asked, but she just sounded thoroughly amused. “Geez. Now I know where I get it from. When I was thirteen, I had a bit of a bad habit of spying on my friends when I was worried instead of confronting them head on. It took a while to grow out of, and even now I can easily slip back into the habit if I’m not careful. But, as great as this reunion is, it isn’t what I’m being paid to be here for,” Her grin turned downright wicked as she snapped open her sketchbook and clicked her pen.

“I am MDC, the owner and CEO of the up and rising fashion label Spotted Designs, where every look will turn heads and ensure confidence. Monsieur Wayne,” her grin turned into a sly smirk when she said his name, which visibly made Bruce twitch. “Has hired me today to design all of you a new outfit for his gala in four months time, as well as a casual outfit of your own choosing should you want one. Before I get started, I would like to ask you to please sign your NDAs, which my assistant and best friend will bring in for you in a few minutes, before we conclude this meeting. I go by an alias for a reason, I value my privacy, and I would prefer it if word did not get out about my being MDC just yet. Being CEO of a business I started from scratch when I’m only eighteen right now will garner attention that I am not patient enough to deal with right now.”

The silence was near palpable until Jason huffed in amusement and remarked: “Yup. I can see the resemblance.”

“Resemblance?” Duke asked, leaning forward with an incredulous look on his face. “It’s like seeing a tiny, genderswapped, innocent copy of Damian. Is anyone else terrified right now?”

“Tt,” Damian tutted, letting a heavy breath out through his nose before shoving his hand forward. He didn’t look pleased, but neither did he look venomous or betrayed anymore. “Miss Dupain-Cheng. I am Damian Wayne, and I look forward to working with you.” He greeted as if the past few minutes hadn’t happened at all. Marinette beamed, letting out a short belt of delighted laughter before clasping his hand firmly with hers.

“My competence always wins people over,” she teased.

“Only if they don’t see you trip over empty air first,” a new voice joined in, lightly joining the teasing. It belonged to a tall, blond haired green eyed man that looked about the same age as Marinette herself. He came carrying a large two-foot stack of papers as easily as if he was only carrying one sheet. Closing the door behind him with his foot, he went around the large square of tables distributing NDAs to everyone who hadn’t already signed one. “Mari’s the clumsiest person I’ve ever seen, but I’ve also seen her hand sew a double sided ball gown with a layer of knife-resistant fabric in less than thirty hours and still threaten anyone to come near with a needle to the eye, so I’ve learned to just not take anything about her at face value anymore.”

“Oh shut up,” Marinette snapped back cheerfully, rolling her eyes. “This is my best friend, assistant, and business partner Adrien Agreste.”

“I deal with all the paperwork and spotlight that she doesn’t want to handle,” he agreed, nearly blinding everyone with his beaming smile. “Now. Please sign these NDAs, and you can experience Marinette’s skill firsthand.”

After papers were signed and Adrien left, Bruce tried to start another conversation with Marinette.

“So, when did you find out—“

“I’m going to start with taking all of your measurements, if you don’t mind. You first, Monsieur Wayne.”

Bruce blinked, not used to being interrupted. “Ah. We can do this tomorrow, I wasn’t expecting—“

“That’s not my fault, Monsieur Wayne. I came here knowing exactly who I was going to deal with, and you want me to make a quite frankly horrifying amount of clothing in a very short amount of time. Any designer lesser than me would be completely incapable of meeting your deadline. I plan on sticking to my schedule, which means that we are going to get everyone’s measurements and a baseline of the kind of designs you all want done today before the end of our scheduled appointment.”

“Marinette, I would really like to talk about—“

“Arms out. And take your suit jacket off, I can’t get an accurate measurement with it,” she once again interrupted, businesslike and efficient as she took her measuring tape and lined it up against various parts of his body, jotting down the results. She didn’t entertain any of his attempts at conversation in the meantime, instead using the dead time to grill Damian on what he wanted for his suit design.

And, like a partnership that never should have existed, Damian merely smirked and played along with her game. He answered her questions thoroughly but precisely, never allowing their father a chance to make actual conversation. Next thing the poor eldest Wayne knew, Marinette had already taken everyone’s measurements and almost an hour had passed. No less than ten pages of her notebook were already filled with neat lines of notes and numbers.

“You really take this whole thing seriously, don’t you?” Tim asked, in the middle of describing his ideal suit to Marinette. She hummed, grinning up at him mysteriously. As if she was in on a joke he hadn’t heard.

“Designing is my life, Monsieur Drake. This company is something I’ve been building from the ground up since I was thirteen, I’ve made my own clothes since I was ten. Of course I take it seriously. Now. I believe that is everything I need,” she stood up, asking a few last second questions as she gathered up her things. Seeing his chance, Brucie walked her to the door.

“Really, Marinette, I would like to talk to you more. Would you like to come to the Manor tonight, for dinner maybe?”

Marinette smirked, opening the door before Bruce could and turning her head to say over her shoulder: “Not tonight, but maybe tomorrow. Do me a favor though, and try not to get too injured on patrol. I need you all in good enough shape to stand while I do your initial fittings later this week. Gotham might need it’s vigilantes, but you will all regret it if you break a bone before I can fit my prototypes to you.”

Nobody was able to say a word before she closed the door behind her and continued briskly to the elevator. Bruce stood, dumbfounded. Tim, Jason, and Dick, after a moment, started cackling.

“Oh yeah. That’s Damian’s sister.”

“Tt. At least this proves it.”

Bruce, suddenly very exhausted, turned to his son while rubbing his forehead. “Proves what, Damian?”

His trademark razor sharp smirk overtook his face as Damian replied: “Your blood children really are much more competent and effective than the strays you took in.”

“Hey!”

—*—*—*—*—*

“You didn’t have a full conversation?” Adrien guessed, looking exactly like the cat who caught the canary. Marinette had her head in her hands, her entire face red.

“I didn't know how to have an actual conversation with them, Adrien! You should have seen it, Monsieur Wayne—“

“You can just say your father, you know.”

“—Wanted to talk about feelings. Emotions! Gooey, family stuff and probably sentimental things. In front of so many people, too. I panicked!”

“You panicked and went full Business Empress mode,” Adrien agreed, patting her back in both comfort and condescension. “It’s okay. You at least agreed to dinner tomorrow night.”

“Fuuuuuuuuuck, I diiiiiid. Quick, let’s come up with a way to fake my kidnapping.”

“No.”

“Damn.”

#maribat #ml x dc #mlb x dc #b!dbwm2020 #Bio dad bruce wayne #B!dbwm #platonic brucinette #No romantic pairing #Day One #Platonic Daminette

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mattholicguilt · 3 years

Text

cats in the cradle by Duck_Life

Fandoms: Supernatural [Gen, No Archive Warnings Apply] Words: 1,745

Tags: Claire Novak & Patience Turner, Cats, Psychic Abilities, Grandparents & Grandchildren, Friendship, Found Family, claire novak will see a stray animal and be like, is anyone gonna project onto this, and not wait for an answer

Summary: Claire helps Patience hone her abilities. Patience helps Claire track down a cat.

Written for SPN Women Week Day 1. Prompt: "skills"

Bub is missing again.

“Bub” is the name of a mean stray cat missing a chunk from his ear. Claire’s been leaving cat food out for the ugly old thing for weeks now, and whenever he doesn’t come running she panics.

So, for the third time, Patience finds herself enlisted in the search for a cat that Claire doesn’t even technically own. “If it’s gonna bother you this much every time,” Patience says, “why don’t you just take it in? You know, get him his shots, a collar, a microchip.”

Claire makes a face at her before turning back to look at the road. She’s been driving around the neighborhood slowly, scoping out every shrub and checking under every parked car. “Bub doesn’t want to be chained down,” she explains. “He’s a free spirit.”

Alright, well, Patience is too tired to unpack that right now. She lets it lie and looks out the passenger’s side window, alert for any signs of movement. “Maybe he was never a stray at all,” she tries, “and his owner finally tracked him down and brought him home.”

“Do you know that?” Claire asks.

Claire’s always asking if Patience knows things— what happened on Jody’s date last weekend, what Dean’s middle name is, whether or not Alex is the one who ate the last ice cream sandwich in the freezer. Patience keeps trying to explain that she can only see the future. “Psychic” might be a misnomer— her abilities are precognitive, not telepathic.

She basically gets previews, little spoilers about what’s to come. And though she’s been working at it, she can’t seem to get her psychic abilities to do the kind of reading and divination her grandma could do. She gets glimpses with no context, no backstory.

Missouri Moseley could walk into a room and feel every ounce of heartbreak, grief, hope and faith in the people standing there. Patience can barely pick up on it when Alex and Claire are pissed at each other.

Still, Claire brings her along whenever the cat goes missing. Seems to think her ESP can home in on missing animals. Patience keeps telling her otherwise, and yet here she is, once again. That’s the trouble with having no social life and no better plans.

Maybe she should join a book club.

Claire rounds the corner, eyes darting around for any sight of the mangy cat. The first time Bub vanished from Claire’s sight, all the neighbors seemed intent to help. They explained they hadn’t seen the cat, but hoped Claire would find him soon and offered baked goods and platitudes in the meantime.

But these things have an expiration date. You can only lose the cat so many times before the routine gets old and the neighbors lose interest.

“My educated guess ?” Patience sighs. “The cat’ll come back when it gets hungry. Just like before.”

Claire makes a tch sound and mouths “educated guess” under her breath. Apparently, because Patience is psychic she’s supposed to be omniscient. “So which is it?” Claire says. “Is he back with his ‘real’ owners or is he going to come home when he gets hungry?”

“Don’t be a jerk,” Patience says. “I’m here, aren’t I? I’m helping you.”

“... Yeah. You are,” Claire says, ducking her head. “Sorry.” Her eyes scan the road ahead, looking for the telltale streak of a cat darting out from under a parked car or vanishing around a tree trunk. Still nothing. “Hey, Patience the Pet Psychic,” Claire says. “You should write that down, that’d be a great children’s book.”

“Very funny,” Patience says, rolling her eyes. She’s silent for a few moments and then says, “Cla-aire the Monster Slayer.”

“That doesn’t really rhyme.”

“Sure it does.”

When the sky darkens and the streetlights flick on, Claire drives them back to the house, Bub-less and dejected. “I’m sure he’s fine,” Patience tries.

Claire bunches her shoulders, the collar of her leather jacket looking like a cat’s raised hackles. Maybe, Patience thinks, that’s the connection— Claire in many ways resembles an angry cat. She and Bub might be kindred spirits.

“I’m just tired,” Claire says, yanking the keys out of the ignition. “We’ll try again tomorrow.”

Patience considers pointing out that Claire could at least ask instead of just assuming , considers reminding Claire that she has her own life outside of playing “pet psychic.”

But she doesn’t actually have anything to do tomorrow. Or the rest of the week. And as futile as it feels riding around looking for a runaway cat, it is something to do. And it makes Claire feel better.

And… straining her psychic muscles to pick up on any trace of the old tomcat is at least better than doing nothing and letting her abilities degrade. Over the last year, she’s been trying to find ways to train her brain, shape her psychic visions into something useful.

Jody’s supportive, but she, like most people, doesn’t know anything about being psychic. Kaia’s got a fraught relationship with her own special skills and usually chooses not to talk to Patience about seeing the future, and Alex is so entrenched in nursing and hunting that the few “normal” moments she gets at home are devoted to unwinding and relaxing.

Which makes Claire Patience’s most ardent supporter in developing her psychic abilities. A very grouchy, blonde and mostly clueless Yoda. What she lacks in background knowledge she makes up for in persistence.

“Hey, Patience, guess which hand?” Claire will ask, holding the last fortune cookie behind her back. “Hey, Patience, what number am I thinking of?” Claire will ask, perched on the arm of the couch. “Hey, Patience, heads or tails?” Claire will ask, flipping a coin to catch it in midair.

That’s not how it works. That’s not how any of it works— Patience can’t predict things at will. Her psychic visions operate on a schedule of their own, with no concern for Patience’s own convenience or comfort. One minute, she’s watching shitty reality TV while Alex nods off on her shoulder. The next, she’s watching Jody narrowly avoid being bitten by a vampire.

It’s a lot different from just guessing a coin toss. Still. Patience can’t help but think that her grandma would’ve passed all of Claire’s little tests with flying colors.

That night, Patience doesn’t dream about anything— at least, not anything useful. She has an anxiety dream about being lost in Aldi, roaming the aisles with increasing frustration. But nothing about the future. Nothing about Bub the cat.

She’s pouring herself a bowl of cereal when Claire stomps inside, the porch door swinging shut behind her. “Still gone,” she says darkly, grabbing the cereal box and her own bowl. “Food hasn’t been touched.”

“Claire,” Patience says, “why don’t we just go to the SPCA? You can get yourself a cat that’s not, you know—”

“What? Not damaged? Not a lost cause? Not hard to love?”

Whoa, Patience wants to say. “A cat that’s not missing ,” she finishes. “We can get him his shots and a collar and everything.”

“I don’t— I don’t just want some random cat,” Claire says. “I want to find Bub. I want… I want to find him and bring him home. I have to bring him home.”

“I know,” Patience says, and just like that she does . She does know.

She knows everything, feels everything, the aching loss in Claire’s bones that’s both recent and so, so old. Memories of Claire hitchhiking and stealing and conning her way through the country, desperately chasing a mother who was desperately chasing a dead man. Jimmy Novak’s voice in her head, his face seen through Claire’s eyes, Please, Castiel, take me. Just take me. Again, his forehead pressed to hers, Take care of your mom, okay, bub?

Bub.

Patience looks at Claire. Sees her, in a way she hasn’t been able to see anyone before. “Bub… ‘bub’ is what your dad used to call you.”

Claire squints at her. “Uh. Yeah,” she says. “Wait, I didn’t… I didn’t tell you that.”

“No,” Patience breathes, meeting her eyes across the kitchen, “you didn’t.”

Slowly, a grin spreads across Claire’s face. “Holy shit , Patience, you just… ? You just did that. You, like, read me.”

“I, uh, I didn’t know. That I could do that,” Patience says, caught between marveling at this new development and feeling self-conscious at intruding on Claire’s emotions and her past.

Claire doesn’t seem put off at all. She’s actually bouncing with excitement. “We gotta test this out. Oh my God. It’s like a whole new Pokemon evolution for you.”

“It’s not really. Like that. In any way.”

But Claire is already humming the Pokemon theme song. She grabs her car keys. “Alright, well, let’s go look for that cat. I’ve got a good feeling about today.”

“I read you, Claire, that doesn’t mean I can read the cat,” Patience reminds her.

“Yeah, yeah, but you can still help me look,” Claire says. “I don’t need your third eye, just the two on your face.”

“That’s… yeah, fine,” Patience acquiesces. To be honest, she’s buzzing with the knowledge of what she can do with her powers. If Claire’s happy to be her test subject, she’ll spend all day with the girl. “Just let me grab a coffee.”

“Ooh, me too. Wait!” She wiggles her fingers toward Patience. “Do you Know how I like my coffee?”

“Half-and-half. And enough sugar to kill you,” Patience reels off. “But that’s not because I’m psychic. I’ve just seen you fix yourself coffee before.”

“Y’know, I think the line between ‘psychic’ and ‘observant’ is thinner than you might think.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Patience says, and then pretends to stumble backward toward the table, overacting the part. “Oh, oh, I’m having a vision… I see you … making coffee for us…”

Claire rolls her eyes, but she dutifully sets her keys down and busies herself with getting the travel mugs out. “That’s not gonna work for everything, you know.”

“Aaah I see you bringing Jody’s suit to the dry cleaners next week. I also see you driving me to the science museum.”

“Hilarious.”

Patience smiles at her. It’s nice to have someone else get excited about her powers. It’s nice to be allowed to be excited about this, to learn a new skill and have it mean something good to someone besides herself. She doesn’t feel like a freak or a failure. She just feels… like a psychic.

She feels like her grandma would be proud.

#spnwomenweek #day 1: skills #patience turner #claire novak #spn #supernatural

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pregnant-piggy · 3 years

Text

Christmas at the Burrow

Fred Weasley x reader

this is part of All I want for Christmas is fanfiction

Words: 3.3k

A/N: Merry Christmas, my angels! Whether or not you celebrate Christmas, I hope you have an amazing day and have fun while I stuff myself on my mother’s delicious food

The snow had been falling all night and when you woke up the whole world was covered with a white layer of the glistening crystals. It was a precious sight to see; children playing in the snow, making snowmen and throwing snowballs. It took you back to when you were younger and you played with your little brother in the snow before your mother would call you inside for hot chocolate.

As you stood at the window you heard Fred stir in his sleep. He had never been the most comfortable to lie next to, but over the years you had learned how to deal with his constant moving. It had even become something you had grown to appreciate now.

You turned around from the window and looked at the open suitcase on the floor. Tomorrow was Christmas and Molly had invited you and Fred over to spend the holiday at the Burrow. You had gladly accepted the offer; you liked the Weasleys and it was always fun around them. Plus, you and Fred didn’t get to see them very often, so a holiday would be a great way to catch up.

Fred moved again, but this time he opened his eyes. He stared at the ceiling for a moment while his arm patted the empty space next to him, probably looking for your body. When he couldn’t find you he lifted his head. His eyes scanned the room and a smile spread on his face when he noticed you standing at the window.

‘Good morning, love,’ Fred said with his raspy morning voice.

‘Morning, Fred,’ you said and picked up a sock from the floor that had fallen next to the suitcase. ‘Are you ready to go?’ you asked, knowing very well that he had not even looked once at his bag.

‘Uhm, give me a minute,’ Fred said and he stepped out of the bed, scanning the room for his unpacked suitcase.

‘Take your time, babe,’ you reassured him. ‘We’re not leaving yet.’

Fred walked over to you and you saw his eyes widen when he noticed the snow outside. He wrapped his arms around you and rested his head on your shoulder as he looked outside. You placed a kiss in Fred’s neck and then pulled back from the hug.

‘Come on, your mother will kill us if we are late,’ you said and pushed Fred to the closet.

-o0o-o00-

The landscape around the Burrow looked magically in the snow. It looked like one of the paintings your grandparents had hanging in their house. Through the window in the living room you could see the lights from the tree and you saw Molly through the window in the kitchen.

The path to the front door had been cleared from snow but it was still slippery and you had to grab Fred’s shoulder to prevent to fall. He laughed and placed his arm around your waist. Slowly you walked to the door, regretting the sneakers you had decided to wear. The door swung open before you could even knock and you immediately felt Molly’s arms around you.

‘Oh, how lovely to see you!’ she exclaimed as he held you in her arms.

‘It’s good to see you too, Mrs. Weasley,’ you chuckled.

‘Please, call me Molly, dear,’ Mrs Weasley said. ‘You’re practically family now.’

‘You hear that Fred? It’s time for ring,’ Ginny teased from behind her mother. Fred turned slightly red and shot Ginny an angry glare over his mother’s shoulder.

Molly ushered you in and ordered Ron to take your suitcase and bring it upstairs. The youngest son grumbled but quickly disappeared with the bags when he saw his mother’s look. You followed Molly to the living room, where you found Hermione and Harry talking to Bill and Arthur.

The usual welcoming hugs were given and it took a while before you had said hello to everyone. Molly placed you on the couch when you offered to help her with anything and Fred slumped down next to you. His arm was around your shoulder immediately as he started to talk to his father.

You let your gaze wonder through the room. One corner was taken by the big tree, that was full with golden and red decorations. There were actual candles instead of the muggle lights you and Fred had in your tree. On the walls and around the windows were fir branches through which a golden ribbon had been waved. The candles on the coffee table lit up the books on it and the fire place was burning fiercely. The inside of the house was the complete opposite the scenery outside. But it matched the cosy feeling.

The Burrow was one of the few places you actually felt at home. The Weasleys made you feel welcome and safe and you were really thankful that they had taken you into their family without a doubt. You remembered that the first time you had met them, you had been really nervous even though Fred had kept assuring you that they would love you. It’s not every day that you meet the family of your boyfriend. But the nervousness had disappeared after ten minutes and had never returned since.

Molly had prepared the most wonderful dinner. The table stood full with delicious dishes and the kitchen was filled with scents that made your mouth water.

You all cramped around the dining table. You were pressed between Fred and Ginny and your feet touched Hermione’s if you stretched them just a little. But this was how it always was; cosy and, despite the lack of personal space, comfortable.

Dinner was as delicious as it looked. You listened to Fleur and Molly talk about Bill’s abilities as a father, now that Fleur had given birth to their daughter Victoire. Fleur told about the sleepless nights and the early morning and you chuckled to yourself as you internally were glad that you weren’t even thinking about children yet. You loved Fred with your entire being but a baby was not on your planning now and, as you heard Fleur’s complaints, you figured it would be a while before it was, if it even would be.

On the other side of you, Ginny was in a heated discussion with Ron. She claimed that Holyhead Harpies were far better than the Chudley Cannons, because not only were they higher than them in the rankings, they also had much more skilled players. To which Ron said, while waving his fork in the air and sprinkling his friends with pieces potato, that though the Cannons might not be the highest in the rankings, they had been going along for a long time and that showed that they were better.

After dinner, when Arthur had stopped the two youngest siblings’ discussion, everyone was sleepy and in a jolly mood from all the food. You plopped down on the couch and Fred lied next to you, his head in your lap. Your hand was playing with his hair while Molly turned on the radio to listen Celestina Warbeck, making her children groan as one. While the soft music played through the room, Fred closed his eyes for a second. You watched as he drifted off to sleep, his nose scrunching up when you tapped him on his forehead to keep him awake.

‘Don’t fall asleep, love,’ you whispered to him, so no one else could hear you.

‘’M not asleep,’ he muttered and rubbed his eyes as he sat up straight. ‘See? Bright awake!’

You kissed his grin and rested your head on his shoulder, taking his hand in yours. Fred wrapped his arm around you and pulled your closer to him, as he listened to his oldest brother trying to talk some sense in Ron.

‘Ron, just be a man and ask her to move in with you!’ Bill whisper-yelled and Ron shook his head. ‘You’ve been dating Hermione for two years now, you basically lived with her every summer since you met! What is keeping you?’

‘I don’t know,’ Ron mumbled. ‘What if she doesn’t even want to live with me?’

‘Ron, she is dating you. She really likes you,’ Bill said and he pushed Ron against his shoulder. ‘Just ask her. It’ll be the best Christmas gift!’

Ron sighed but he nodded and looked at Hermione, who was sitting on the other side of the room, talking with Ginny. You smiled at Ron’s nerves and lifted your head to talk to him. ‘She really does like you, Ron. Believe me, whenever we’re out she always talks about you.’

Something in Ron’s face changed and he smiled at you. ‘Yeah, I can ask her. She’ll like it. I’m sure she will…’

Fred presses a kiss to the side of your head and he squeezed your hand. ‘You’re too good for this world, sweetheart.’

-o0o-o00-

On Christmas morning you woke up with Fred clinging onto you. He had his eyes closed and his mouth was open a little, sending shivers down your spine every time he breathed out and his breath stroke over your skin.

A warm feeling spread over you as you realised it was Christmas. You nudged Fred awake softly and he lifted his head, his eyes still half closed and his voice sleepy.

‘Whut?’

‘Merry Christmas, dear,’ you whispered and kissed Fred lightly.

‘Merry Christmas, y/n,’ he said back and deepened the kiss.

You both quickly changed your actual sleeping clothes to the pyjamas Molly and Arthur had given you past Christmas and on your way downstairs you came across Harry and Ron, who were also wearing their pyjamas.

‘Merlin, I hope this year’s just jumpers,’ Ron grumbled, his arm stretching to his leg to scratch.

‘I agree,’ Fred mumbled and he shimmered his shoulders.

Though the thought behind the pyjamas was really sweet, they itched like hell. The fabric Molly had chosen was not one you would normally choose for something that was supposed to be comfortable. So the pyjamas were only worn whenever Molly and Arthur were around, because even though they might not be comfortable, you didn’t want to hurt their feelings.

The ground beneath the Christmas tree was covered with surprisingly many gifts. Now that you were all older, the gifts had gotten more personal and less. You weren’t greedy kids anymore. But the sight of that many presents did make you happy.

The sounds coming from the kitchen told you that Molly was already awake and preparing breakfast that would most likely be just as much as dinner last night. Music was coming from the kitchen to the living room, where you were. While, Ron and Fred sat down, you and Harry, as the good children-in-law you were, went to the kitchen.

‘Good morning,’ you said and Molly turned around to you. Her smile widened when she saw you and Harry were wearing the pyjamas.

‘Can we help with anything?’ Harry asked.

‘Oh no, dear don’t worry, there’s not much to do,’ Molly said while she stirred in a pot and gestured her wand at the plates in the cupboard, so they flew through the air to the table.

But being in the family for a while had taught both you and Harry that there was always something to do when Molly was cooking. Harry went to set the table and you took place at the counter kneading the dough for the bread Molly was making. The Weasley mother sent you and Harry a grateful smile and quickly wiped away a tear from the corner of her eye.

Soon you were joined by Hermione, who started to help you with making the bread. There was an easy conversation between the four people in the kitchen. You talked with Harry and Hermione about their jobs at the ministry and they explained the changes that they were trying to push through.

‘It’s not much and even less gets actually through, but it is motivation to see it change slowly,’ Hermione said while she formed little balls from the dough you handed to her.

‘I think it’s great,’ you said. ‘The ministry definitely needs some change.’

Not much later Fleur entered the kitchen, carrying Victoire on her hip. The little girl was slowly starting to wake and rubbed her eyes while she hid her face from the people in the kitchen. Fleur put her in her high chair, that stood at one end of the table, and gave her a bottle that the baby soon started to drink from.

‘At what time is George coming?’ Fleur asked, while she sat down next to her daughter.

‘Sometime after breakfast,’ you answered. From all the people in the kitchen you were the closest to George and apparently, as no one else gave an answer, the only one who knew what time he was coming.

‘Figure he made it late last night?’ Harry asked with a smirk on his face.

‘Yeah, I think so,’ you said, handing Hermione the last bit of dough. ‘He was going out with Lee and well, you know how that usually ends.’

‘That we know,’ Hermione mumbled disapprovingly. The last time you had all gone out together, George had forced everyone to stay till the sun came up and that had not fallen right with Hermione, who had had an early day at work the next morning.

When the bread stood in the oven and the rest of breakfast was done, Molly ordered everyone in the living room. You walked in on Fred, Ron, Bill and Ginny all focusing on a frenetic game of Ludo. From the looks of it, Ginny was winning and none of her siblings was agreeing with that.

‘Oh, come on!’ Bill cried out when his piece got thrown of the board by Fred. ‘Why would you do that? I only got one piece on the board!’

‘Sorry, mate,’ Fred shrugged as he placed his piece on the spot Bill’s had stood just two seconds ago.

All four of them were wearing their pyjamas as well and the colour combination was hideous. Molly however couldn’t be more happy to see her children in the things she had made for them and excitedly asked everyone to gather round so she could make a photo.

You all huddled together on and behind the sofa. You sat on Fred’s lap, Hermione was sitting next to him on the couch and Ron at her feet on the floor. On one arm of the couch Harry sat and on the other Ginny. Bill and Fleur stood behind the couch, their arms around their daughter. Arthur went to grab his camera and hurried off to the garage.

He was gone for a while and the longer it took, the less happy everyone got. Ron was hungry and asked when breakfast would be ready. Harry shifted uncomfortable on the armrest and kept scratching his knee. You were getting hot with Fred’s arms around you. Behind you Victoire wasn’t happy to wait either. Softly she began to whine, while Bill and Fleur tried everything to keep her quiet.

After twenty minutes Arthur came back with a red face and the camera in his hand. ‘I forgot where I put it last time.’

Everyone sat up straight and smiled at the camera. The light flashed and everyone sighed content after. You relaxed and moved away from Fred’s arms. Harry jumped off the armrest while he rubbed his bum and cursed the spot he had been sitting on.

‘Fred could you hold Victoire for a moment?’ Bill asked his younger brother and before getting an answer he pushed the girl in Fred’s arms.

Bill ran upstairs and Fred turned to his niece. ‘Hello little princess, are you having fun?’

You smiled as you watched Fred bounce Victoire around, talking to her as he showed her the room.

‘And this is y/n,’ Fred said when he walked over to you. ‘Can you say hello to y/n?’

You laughed and placed around arm around Fred’s shoulder as you smiled at Victoire. She giggled and scrunched up her face as she looked at you.

‘Merry Christmas, angel,’ you said and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

‘Smile!’ Hermione exclaimed and when you and Fred turned around to her, she was holding the camera and took a picture. The flash created spots on your retina and you had to blink for them to disappear.

‘Come, come, I believe breakfast is ready!’ Molly said from the kitchen.

-o0o-o00-

That afternoon you were sitting with the whole family in the living room again. George had arrived shortly after dinner and the bags under his eyes told you that he had in fact made it late the previous night. Nevertheless, his smile was still as bright as ever.

The pyjamas had been changed for jumpers, everyone with their own first letter. Yours was dark green with a red letter and Fred’s was red with a green letter. ‘To match,’ Molly had proudly said and you couldn’t get it over your heart to make a cheesy comment.

You were sitting next to Ron, who was fidgeting with the edges of his sleeves. He still hadn’t asked Hermione to move in with him and the anxiety was eating him up. So while Hermione had turned to Ginny, you spoke to him.

‘When are you gonna ask her?’

‘I don’t know. I’m nervous,’ Ron said and he flashed you a little smile.

‘Don’t be, Ron. She loves you and she’d be a fool not to move in with you. I know she will say yes.’

‘It’s a big step,’ Ron sighed.

‘It’s a really big step, but it will be a great one,’ you said and you thought back of when you and Fred first moved in together. ‘It’s a lot easier. You never have to worry about what time you were supposed to meet up or at whose place you’re going to stay. Plus, you know her so well, it will be easy!’

Ron thanked you and apparently decided to just get over with it, because he got up and asked Hermione if he could talk to her for a moment. As they left the room you made eyes with Fred and he made his way over to you.

‘I assume you have given him the final push?’ he asked as he slumped down beside you.

‘Why would you think that?’ you asked.

‘Because out of all people, you’re the only one who can make Ron actually do stuff. Bill and I have been trying to get him to ask her for months now. You’re here one day and now he’s doing it.’

‘He just needed a little motivation,’ you shrugged.

Fred laughed and pressed a kiss to the side of your head. Resting your head on his shoulder you watched Harry and Ginny as they played wizard’s chess. Harry was losing miserably, but you figured he only did so to see the happy look on Ginny’s face. He wasn’t even paying attention to the board as Ginny’s knight dragged his queen off the board, but instead watching her face.

Outside the sky darkened and little white snowflakes fell from the dark clouds. You stared out of the window and watched the world outside turn white. A warm, cosy feeling spread through your body as you felt the heat from the fire warm your face and the warmth that Fred’s hand around your waist brought. The light was reflected in the shiny golden Christmas ornaments in the tree and spectrums of golden specks showed on the ceiling. The scent of the pine tree and the slight burn of candles filled the room.

There was no other option than to smile at the family that was sitting around you and had made this the best Christmas.

- - - - - -

taglists:

general HP: @kitkatkl @girllety @yuptha-tsme @sleep-i-ness @iamak20 @thefuturelawyer @weasleydream @missmulti @deafgirltingz @moonstarrnghtsky @mytreec @lilulo-12fanfiction @emmaloo21 @kashishwrites @ananad1 @figlia--della--luna @kylosleftbuttcheek @mrs-malfoy-always @thefandomplace @magicwithaknife @mt2413 @aesthetically-hailey @superbturtlemakerathlete @the-natureofme @missswriter @hahee154hq

Weasley twins: @susceptible-but-siriusexual

MASTERLIST

#all i want for christmas is fanfiction #merry christmas #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley #fred x reader #fred imagine #fred #weasley twins #harry potter #harry potter x reader

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krisdreaming · 3 years

Text

PART 1 | A FAVOR

｢ Masterlist ｣ | Next >

Pairing: Kuroo Tetsurou x gn!reader

Summary: Somehow, you ended up agreeing to bring your non-existent boyfriend to the family Christmas gathering at your grandparents’. Your chem lab partner and fast friend, Kuroo Tetsurou, agrees to play the part. Your developing feelings for him won’t cause any problems, right?

WC: 1.7k

A/N: I am v i b r a t i n g, it’s finally here! I’m very excited to share this story with you all, I’ve been having an absolute blast writing it! I already feel like it’s so much better than last year, and tbh reading the old fic is so cringy for me lmao I lowkey want to delete it.

The winter sky is slate gray above you, shedding a few stray snowflakes around you as you walk. The streets of the small university town have been decked out with lights and decorations for a few weeks now, and with the falling snow to match, it’s really starting to feel like Christmas. You reach for the door of the coffee shop, stepping inside and immediately drawing in the heavenly aromas of coffee and pastries. The warm air is such a contrast to the chill of the outdoors that you can feel a slight tingle in your cheeks.

Looking around, you spot Kuroo at one of the corner tables and make your way over to him. “So, what do you think?” You ask, making a vague gesture to the entirety of the coffee shop, “So much better than the one on campus, right?”

“I’ll let you know after I taste the coffee,” He says lightly with his usual teasing smirk. He lifts the mug to his lips and peers at you over the rim for a few moments before taking a sip. “Hmm,” He smacks his lips a few times, resting the mug on the table and tilting his head to the side in exaggerated thought.

“Well?” You finally prompt, “Does it get the Kuroo seal of approval?”

“Not sure,” He says, eliciting an eye roll from you as he lifts his mug again and takes a bigger sip. “Oh!” He reaches for another mug that you hadn’t noticed and pushes it across the table. “I ordered this for you. It’s your favorite here, right? The caramel macchiato?”

You blink at him in surprise, reaching out automatically to wrap your fingers around the warm mug. “You remembered that?” You ask dumbly.

“Of course I did. You’re only talking about it every day,” He rolls his eyes, “Meanwhile some of us are actually trying to do our chem lab, you know.” The teasing smile on his face is starting to seep into his voice, and you chuckle.

“Oh, please. What would you do without me in lab?” You ask, finally lifting the mug to your lips to take a sip. The milky sweetness of the coffee draws out a soft hum of contentment.

“Get work done,” He laughs, shrugging his shoulders and tilting his head as though dodging the glare you shoot his way. “And speaking of work, we’d better get started on this write up if we want to have it finished for class tomorrow.” He flips open his notebook, and you fish around in your bag for yours. It is why you’re here, after all.

You’re about a third of the way through the assignment when your phone rings. Kuroo leans back in his chair as you peek at the screen. “It’s my grandma,” You say apologetically, “I should get this.” Standing to your feet, you step out into the dusk that’s falling outside. “Hello?”

“Hi, Y/N, this is Grandma.”

You shake your head. “Yes, Grandma, I know. How are you?” She doesn’t call you often, so you hope everything is alright.

“Fine, fine,” She says brusquely, quickly brushing past the niceties to get to the real reason she’s calling. “I was thinking, and Grandpa and I agreed that it would be so nice if you invited your boyfriend to Christmas this year.” Suddenly, the coffee you’d just finished drinking is turning to a solid brick in your stomach. “We’d love to meet him, dear, you hardly ever tell us anything about him!”

You let out a shaky breath. It had been harmless – or so you thought. Just a little white lie. Nothing wrong with letting your grandmother believe you’d found a boyfriend at college. She’s always been so hopeful that you’d find someone special, and she asks at every opportunity, so the story had developed on its own. Now you’re starting to realize why that may have been a bad idea.

“No, Grandma, it’s fine, really. He doesn’t need to come.”

“Nonsense. There’s plenty of room and you know there’s always plenty of food, we’d love to have him.” Your grandmother’s voice crackles insistently through the phone.

“Grandma-”

“I won’t take no for an answer,” She says in a tone you’ve never once dared to argue with. “You bring this boyfriend of yours to Christmas, and that’s final.” You bite down a little too hard on your lower lip.

“I’ll see if he’s free,” You say weakly, hoping to buy yourself some more time.

“Good,” She says, finally satisfied. “I’m looking forward to meeting this young man. Now I’m sorry to go so soon, dear, but I have a pie in the oven that needs to come out. You just let me know when the two of you will be getting here next week, alright?”

“Okay, Grandma. If he can come,” You add quickly. “Bye. Love you.”

“And I love you, dear.” For a few moments after she hangs up, you keep your phone at your ear, listening to the dial tone. Finally, you remember that Kuroo is still waiting for you inside, and you slowly turn and go back into the coffee shop.

“Everything okay?” Kuroo asks when you sit back down. You paste a smile on your face and pick up your pencil.

“Yeah, fine!” You chirp, “My Grandma just wanted to discuss a few things about the Christmas get together coming up.”

“Ah, cool. That sounds really nice.”

“Mm-hmm,” You brush it off, “Let’s get this finished, okay?” You try to focus on the lab report, but your mind keeps wandering back to the conversation with your grandmother. You nod along when Kuroo makes a suggestion and dutifully jot down your answers, but you’re working on autopilot.

“Are you sure everything’s alright?” Your gaze snaps to Kuroo and you nod quickly. He sets his pencil down and leans back in his chair, eyeing you critically. “I dunno, you just seem kind of distracted,” He gestures to your paper, and when you look down, you realize that you’ve been erasing so fiercely that a hole is worn into the page. You cover it sheepishly with your hand.

“I’m fine. It’s stupid,” You say with a shrug and a light chuckle. He nods knowingly. He isn’t prying, but something in his expression prompts you to keep going. “You’re going to laugh at me,” You warn before continuing.

“Brilliant,” He says, leaning on his elbows and focusing his entire attention on you. You clear your throat.

“I may or may not have implied to my grandma that I have a boyfriend. Perhaps more than once. I said perhaps!” You repeat it at the way his lips are screwed up, already trying his hardest to keep a straight face.

“But you don’t,” He interjects.

“No. Thank you for that,” You say dryly. “Anyway, as it turns out, Grandma has extended a generous invitation for my boyfriend to attend our family Christmas gathering.”

“Your boyfriend that doesn’t exist,” He says with a smirk.

“We’ve established that, yes,” You huff. “Any bright ideas, smarty pants?”

“Hm, so you come to me for advice,” Kuroo strokes his chin thoughtfully. “Sounds like you need to get yourself a boyfriend.” You snort. “Or at least someone to pass off as your boyfriend,” He amends. “For the right price, I might be persuaded. Isn’t this your grandma that sent you those cookies the other week?”

“The one and only,” You nod.

“Mm-hmm,” He nods slowly, watching you a little too closely. Just when you start to feel the heat rushing to your cheeks, he sits back again. “Well, if there are going to be more of those cookies, you know where to find me,” He quips, then clears his throat. “Well, we’re almost finished here, is this what you got for the last formula?” That quickly, it’s dropped. As always when it comes to Kuroo, you’re not sure quite how seriously to take him.

You spend the rest of the evening worrying the situation in your mind. Is it really smart to bring a fake boyfriend to your family gathering? It sounds like the plot of a bad romcom. Say your boyfriend can’t make it, and you know your grandmother will ask for photos, stories, and other evidence you don’t have. Admit the truth, and you may never be able to look her in the eye again. None of them is very appealing, but those are your options.

The next day, you can’t believe you’re really doing this. Sleep deprivation may be a factor, but you’ve decided to take Kuroo up on his offer. After all, you reason with yourself, it will keep Grandma happy. She’ll be absolutely tickled, and you know Kuroo will charm her. Kuroo’s always seemed to love the stories you’ve told about your family, and you know he’ll fit right in with them. Spending the holiday with him – it might not be so bad. In fact, it’s something you might even find yourself looking forward to.

Your afternoon lab is almost over before you work up the courage to broach the subject. “Hey, Kuroo?” You speak up, right as he’s eye level with a test tube and adding a few drops to the solution inside.

“Hm?” He hums, distracted, as you watch him count the droplets under his breath. When he’s finished, he sits back and looks at you, head cocked slightly to the side. You draw in a sharp breath, trying not to think about the sudden twist in your middle.

“Were you serious when you said you’d come to my family’s Christmas and pretend to be my boyfriend?” It tumbles out in one breath.

He barks out a laugh. “Well, yeah, I guess so!”

“I’m not trying to force you,” You insist.

“You’re not,” He assures you. “Wasn’t it my idea in the first place? How am I supposed to turn down an opportunity to eat for three days straight?”

“You have to let everyone think you’re my boyfriend,” You remind him.

“You think I can’t handle it?” He holds out his hand. “Please. I’m in.”

“If you’re sure.” Slowly, you reach out and shake his hand. His grip is firm. This is really happening, isn’t it?

#Haikyuu #haikyuu imagines #Haikyuu fluff #Kuroo Tetsurou #Kuroo Tetsurou x reader #Kuroo x reader #Haikyuu x reader #hqd fluffmas #queued

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scapegrace74-blog · 3 years

Text

Ginger Snap, Chapter 5

A/N Know what this fic needs? More Geillis. No really, I think you guys are going to like where I’m going with this. Just bear with me. Only one more chapter to go after this one, plus an epilogue. Thanks for coming on the journey with me! With due credit to Sia, this chapter’s title is Fire, Meet Gasoline.

Previous chapters are best enjoyed on my AO3 page, because I have a bad habit of going back and editing them after they’ve been posted.

Geillis Duncan drove much the way she approached life, which was to say without much regard for rules and at white-knuckle speed. I gripped her Range Rover’s leather cushion and swallowed any exclamations of dismay as we ricocheted through Edinburgh’s late afternoon traffic. When we finally slid into an underground parking spot and emerged into the bustling festivity of the Princes Street Christmas Market, I felt the tension of imminent disaster abandon my shoulders.

“Where to first, then?” Geillis asked, looking far too animated by the prospect of accompanying someone while they did their Christmas shopping.

Geillis and I had kept in touch and met for coffee a few times over the past months. When I explained that I wouldn’t be taking any more cooking classes at Ginger Snap because Jamie was giving me at-home lessons, her reaction was a moonbeam grin.

“Look at ye, wee vixen! I ne’er wouldha thought ye had it in ya, Claire. Tho I canna say as I blame ye.”

No matter how much I protested that I was together with Frank and that my relationship with Jamie was purely professional, she refused to believe me. The ongoing absence of a ring from my left hand didn’t help.

“Now,” Geillis exclaimed once we’d taken in the sights and sounds of the market, “let’s have a keek at yer list. Where should we start?”

I pulled out my phone and opened the Notes app. As she read, my friend’s nose wrinkled in confusion.

“Trouser socks, shoe stays, Moleskine notebook, Rive Gauche... who are ye shopping for, yer grandparents?”

“No,” I protested. “The first three are for Frank. The perfume is for me.”

When I explained that Frank had made a list of the items he would like to give me for Christmas, Geillis grew incensed.

“Ye mean he has ye doin’ his gift buying fer him? Tha’s the least romantic thing I’ve e’er heard. Do ye even like Rive Gauche, Claire? And dinna lie tae me, fer I can read yer feelings all o’er yer face.”

Truthfully, I didn’t much care for the flowery scent. My personal taste ran more towards woodsy or herbaceous aromas. But it was Frank’s favourite, and it pleased me to please him. Or it had. I was beginning to wonder when it would be my turn to please myself.

“Right,” Geillis interrupted my thoughts. “Marks and Sparks will do jes fine for yer wee granny list. And then you and I are going shopping fer yer real gift.”

Geillis was a force to be reckoned with in a retail environment. She navigated like a guided missile from one department to the next. Twenty minutes later, we were back on the pavement, which glistened with the colourful reflections of decorations strung above.

“Your car is the other way,” I explained as Geillis turned left.

“Aye, tis, but our destination is right o’er here. House of Fraser. See? Tis practically calling yer name, Claire.”

Inside the venerable old building was an astonishing multi-tiered arcade reaching over five stories to a massive skylit ceiling. The central space was dominated by a fifteen metre-high Christmas tree (a Fraser fir, of course) and every archway of every arcade was dripping with lights. The impression was like stepping into a Fabergé egg.

Geillis dragged me, slack-jawed, towards the ladies’ wear section. Circling the racks like a hawk on the wind, she eyed my body, sizing me up quite literally, then thrust several pieces into my hands.

“Geillis,” I hissed, wary of the sales staff hovering nearby, no doubt smelling an excessive commission in the offing. “I don’t need a new outfit. And I certainly don’t need,” I shook the garments in question, “something like this. Wherever would I wear it?”

“Well, fer starters, ye’d wear it tae dinner t’night. I dinna wish tae offend ye, Claire, but I canna in good conscience allow ye tae set foot in the Timberyard dressed fer a job interview as a primary school teacher.”

With that she shoved me in the direction of the changing rooms. Deciding to humour her, I was unbuttoning my top when two lacy bits of nothing came flying over the door.

“Start wi’ these. And dinna think I willna notice if ye’re no’ wearing them!”

I stripped down to my panties, bemusedly wondering how she knew my exact bra size.

Upon seeing me exit the dressing room in her choice of clothing, Geillis let out a squeal of delight. She insisted I rip out the tags and leave the store wearing my new outfit, declaring it was her Christmas gift to me.

I felt tremendously self-conscious as we walked towards the restaurant. The aubergine velvet jeans clung to my legs in an unfamiliar way and the black turtleneck, while technically not revealing, hinted at kink with its many heavy zippers and fastenings. Together with my unruly hair, unstraightened for once, I felt like another woman entirely. I didn’t recognize her, but I felt like she might be someone I’d like to get to know.

The Timberyard was a modern restaurant in a rugged old warehouse, not far from the farmer’s market I’d visited with Jamie. We were joined there by several of Geillis’ friends, and we ate, drank and laughed until my sides were sore.

As I wobbled to the loo, I noticed the bartender following me with an appreciative gaze. It had been a long time since a man had looked at me that way, and it gave me a guilty thrill.

We left the restaurant just before midnight. I pulled Geillis into an impulsive hug.

“Wha’ was that for, hen?” she asked.

“Nothing. Everything. Just, thank you for being you, Geil.”

“Och, tis my pleasure, lass. I only want tae see ye happy. Now, what do ye say to a digestif?”

After only a slight protest on my part, the two of us piled into an Uber. Our destination was another restaurant, this time in a converted whisky warehouse by the harbour in Leith. It was well past last sitting, but when I mentioned this to Geillis she explained away my concern.

“I ken the owner, who’s also the chef. Tis a popular spot fer locals in the restaurant scene tae meet after they close up fer a few drinks afore heading home tae their beds.”

Inside, the walls were rough stone, supported in places by industrial metal beams. The kitchen was open to the main dining area, and I grinned as I thought of Frank’s strong opinion on the matter. Near the back of the room, lit by dim naked bulbs and the glow from several open fireplaces, was a huge square table surrounded by nearly twenty chairs upholstered in bright yellow plaid. Around the table was gathered a motley assortment of men and women, all talking and laughing and sipping on a variety of drinks. And in their midst, his copper hair shining in the firelight, sat Jamie.

A shout went up from the table as Geillis approached. I hung back, tugging at the hem of my new turtleneck as though I could stretch it to cover my arse. Besides Jamie, I recognized Jenny, Angus and Murtagh, but I only had eyes for the big ginger chef. He sat at one corner, probably in deference to his long legs which were stretched out before him, wrapped in black denim. A black leather jacket hung over the chair behind him. He looked dangerous. It was a very good look for him.

Dragging me by the elbow, Geillis nudged and bumped Angus to one side despite his vulgar protests, then practically pushed me down into the chair directly next to the chef. With a smug smile of satisfaction, she then retired to the opposite side of the table.

I looked anywhere but directly at Jamie, but I could feel his butane eyes on me. I was certain he would scorch right through my outer layers and down to where Geillis’ choice in lingerie burned against my tender skin. The noise from the rest of the table faded away.

“Ye look bonnie t’night, Arsonist.” His voice was low and gruff and it sent a quickening through my veins.

“Thank you, Jamie. It was Geillis’ Christmas gift to me, and I feel, well... let’s just say it isn’t my usual look.”

“It suits ye, I think.” He reached out and lightly touched the silver tab of a zipper that ended near my wrist, setting it swinging. I swallowed and looked frantically around. Several open bottles of liquor stood nearby. Grabbing the nearest one, I poured myself a generous serving and knocked it back, all in one go. I tried to steady my breathing.

“Look, Jamie...”

Just then a blond man in chef’s whites called to Jamie from across the table. An exchange involving a lot of Scottish cursing and an off-colour reference to someone’s lobster pot ensued. I tried to convince myself I needed to leave. It was late, I was half-drunk, and whatever I intended to say to Jamie should definitely wait for another moment. Maybe never.

A hand on my thigh broke my preoccupation.

“Sorry, Arsonist, ye were sayin’ something?”

I wet my lips, frantically trying to recall anything but the feeling of Jamie’s strong fingers, stroking me through the velvet of my jeans.

“I...”

At that moment, the woman on Jamie’s far side broke into song. The rest of the table cheered and clapped along, and it was impossible to hear anything except the concussive pounding of my heart against my eardrums.

Jamie grabbed my clammy hand.

“Come wi’ me,” he instructed, grabbing our outerwear and pulling me towards the door. Geillis watched our departure with all the excitement of a child on Christmas morning.

Outside the air was dense and cold, a briny slap after the stuffy warmth of the restaurant. Jamie obviously had a destination in mind, and we walked hand-in-hand along the cobbled streets for several minutes before finally emerging at the port. A jetty struck out into the inky sea, and it was there that we ended up. Besides a few gulls and the winking of a nearby lighthouse, we were all alone. The sodium street lights caught Jamie’s curls and made them burn.

“Forgive me, Arsonist. I couldna hear myself think in there. Tho, come tae think of it, tis no’ much better now.” Rather than release me, as he spoke Jamie stroked my hand, running calloused fingers over each vein and every knuckle. I don’t think he even realized he was doing it, but it stole every thought from my head.

“No ring,” he remarked, stroking the finger in question.

“No,” I whispered in response.

And then it burst out of me, like a tidal wave of feeling that I never saw coming. I told him everything. My childhood roaming the globe with my uncle, pre-occupied and rootless, dreaming of stability. Meeting Frank at Harvard, and realizing that he represented all the things that my life to date had lacked: structure, security, a solid foundation, a home. And how it took moving to Scotland and coming into contact with a group of near-strangers to make me realize that the price I had paid for that stability was higher than I’d ever imagined. I’d given up my dream of becoming a doctor. I’d become so lost in Frank’s vision of who I should be that I’d almost lost sight of who I actually was.

By the time the flood of words left me, I was in Jamie’s arms, crying into his leather jacket. He hushed me with quiet murmurs and languorous stroking of my hair, as one would a child who has woken from a nightmare.

I stepped out of his embrace and rubbed my sleeve across my face. I must have looked an absolute mess, but he still watched me with those earnest, patient eyes.

“I’m sorry,” I began, “I don’t know what...”

“Claire,” he interrupted. I’d never before realized just how many consonants were in my given name. “Ye dinna need tae apologize tae me. But ye may want tae consider an apology tae yerself.” At my raised eyebrow, he continued.

“I’m no’ the kind of man tae tell another what they should and shouldna do. But ye strike me as someone who’s made decisions fer the right reasons, yet ended up in the wrong place.” Here he paused, as though carefully weighing his words. “There’s no sin in changin’ yer mind, Arsonist. Tis very well tae be hungry, so long as ye ken what ye hunger for.”

“And what do you hunger for, James Fraser?” The provocative words had left my lips before I had the chance to censor them. His answer came in the form of a blistering look that left no doubt as to its meaning. Then he gathered himself, banking the fire I’d unconsciously ignited.

“Many things. Regular, ordinary things, mostly. My family’s health and happiness. A faster bike. My own restaurant.”

“Like Tom’s there?” I asked, gesturing towards the harbour.

“Och, Tom is a braw chef, and worthy o’ every accolade tha’s been showered upon him. But the hospitality scene in Edinburgh is cut-throat, an’ suitable locations cost a fortune. Nah, Jenny and I want tae buy back our childhood home in the Highlands. Tis called Lallybroch, and when our Da passed, our Mam sold it tae her brother. We’d turn it inta a country inn, wi’ Jenny running the lodging side o’ things and I the dining. Tha’s the dream anyway,” he ended with a shrug.

I rested my hand on his forearm. “That sounds like a wonderful plan, Jamie.”

Before he could reply, an enormous yawn burst from my lungs.

“Time tae get ye home tae yer bed, Arsonist,” Jamie grinned. “Come, I’ll give ye a ride.”

“Wait, haven’t you been drinking?” I inquired as we walked back down the jetty.

“Three years sober,” he explained with no hint of embarrassment. “I went somewhere pretty dark after my Mam died, an’ it took a near-fatal crash tae scare me straight.” His eyes squinted in a poor approximation of a wink as he added, “Besides, there are better ways tae chase a rush than in the bottom of a bottle.”

“Such as?” I asked brazenly.

Which was how I found myself on the back on a black motorcycle, my arms twined around Jamie’s waist. Rather than take me directly home, he steered us north, following the coast. It was very late, with hardly another vehicle about. We merged onto the motorway, and Jamie picked up speed. My thighs tightened around his lean hips, the vibration of the motor beneath us shivering up my spine. As we emerged beneath the hastate lights of the Queensferry Bridge, I stretched my arms wide, icy air ripping against the sleeves of my jacket. I laughed, although no-one could hear me. I yelled, and only the wind yelled back. I was flying.

***

It was nearly dawn when Jamie pulled up in front of my flat. My legs thrummed, my eyes were dry with fatigue, and my heart ached, but I felt better than I could ever remember. I handed Jamie back his spare helmet and shook out my curls. He watched me in that half-sleepy, half-vigilant way of his that I now recognized as desire.

“I don’t know what I could ever say to thank you, Jamie.”

“Ye needn’t say anything at all, Arsonist. Nae matter what ye decide, it has been my very great honour tae get tae know you.”

Without another word, he kick-started the engine and drove off into the early morning mist.

“Goodbye,” I whispered to his vanishing shadow.

***

The lamp above the couch was lit, and Frank lay still beneath its glow. I realized he had fallen asleep waiting for me to come home. Instead of regret, what I felt in that moment was pity.

The sound of my jacket being unzipped woke him. He blinked in confusion and then in shock.

“I’m very sorry if you were worried,” I began.

“Worried? Do you have any idea what time it is? My God, Claire, I don’t know what to make of you these days. You’ve never behaved irresponsibly before, and now you’re out at all hours and you’re wearing,” he gestured wildly with his hand at my new outfit which I had, quite honestly, forgotten I was wearing. “And your hair, Claire!” he finished, as though the manic state of my curls was definitive evidence of my fall from grace. Despite my exhaustion, I stood tall.

“Frank, we need to talk.”

#my writing #outlander #ginger snap

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official-weasley · 3 years

Text

Niece Aoede - (The Irreplaceable Charlie Weasley AU)

Warnings: I can't think of anything really 🙈

Word count: 2,741

Characters: Charlie Weasley and my OC Nova from TICW which you can find here

Charlie

“Good morning.” I stretched in the doorway that leads to the kitchen.

“Good morning.” Olivia smiled at me. “Would you like some tea or coffee?”

“Tea's fine.” I rubbed my eyes and sat down.

“Are you okay?” She tilted her head, observing me.

“Fine. Just a bit nervous, that's all.” I scratched the back of my head.

“To take Aoede to meet your family?”

“Charlie?” She said softly after a moment of silence, me biting my lip.

“Yeah.” I confessed.

“Molly didn't mention anything to me, but did you two have a fallout?” She placed her hand on top of mine.

“No.” I shook my head. “It's nothing.” I tried convincing her with a smile but I know she knows me better than that.

“I know your mum can be a bit much.” She sighed.

“It's not...yeah.” I bowed my head. “It's just, I know she apologized and everything is fine now but I hated how she reacted when we told her that Nova is pregnant.” My brows came together, reminiscing on the moment.

“Ah, she told me about that, yes.” Olivia nodded her head.

“I am used to her not agreeing with my choices but you saw how happy we were when we told you and we wanted to share that joy with my family and she ruined everything. It might've not been planned but we wouldn't change anything in the world and you should see how nervous Nova was to tell my parents that we are entering a new chapter in our lives. She was supposed to burst from happiness not look green in the face because she knew how my mum will react and she didn't want to disappoint her.” I tried hard to keep myself calm but I just couldn't help it, she made me so mad that day.

“I hate that she can't understand that I am old enough to take care of myself and that I have my own family now. She treats me as if I am a first-year and I...” I took a deep breath. “I guess now that I'm older I am seeing her in a different light.”

“She is just worried for you and wants the best for you.” Olivia said calmly.

“Then why could you be happy for us and share such a sweet moment with us when we told you? Why could dad be happy and supportive? Why does she always have to...” I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. “You know, what? Forget I said anything.”

“Don't tell her this, but I think she should've reacted differently too. Want me to talk to her?”

“What good will that do? She will never change and never stop bossing us around. Do you know that she is the reason why I suggested to Nova that we stay with you and not at the Burrow? I knew that you will give us space and act normal and not lecture us every five minutes and tell Nova that she shouldn't sit that way while pregnant but find a different position or some nonsense like that.”

“You know she loves you and she just wants the best for you and I am not trying to defend her or be on her side. She just has her own way of showing those things and perhaps bossing you around and telling you what to do is the only way she knows and is not even aware that she is doing it. I know it's hard to understand but you and Nova are planning to have more children and getting along with your family is important for them.” She sighed. “I would know, both my and Roger's parents died before Nova was even born and I wish for nothing else than she could have grandparents in her life. Do stand up to her but don't cut her off completely.” She gave me a soft smile.

“Yeah, you're right.” I nodded. “Thank you for listening to me, Olivia.”

“Any time, Charlie. As much as Nova is a part of your family that much you are a part of hers.”

“Are the girls still sleeping?” Olivia asked as she put a cup of tea in front of me.

“No, Aoede woke up a while ago. I changed her and now Nova is breastfeeding her.” I took a sip of my tea.

“It makes me very happy that you help Nova so much. She even looks rested.” Olivia giggled.

“Well, she has been carrying her for 9 months and she had to give birth to her now it's my turn to have sleepless nights so Nova can get as much sleep as possible.” I smiled at her.

“Yeah, you'll have plenty of those, don't you worry.” Olivia laughed.

“I don't mind at all. I would never sleep again if it means my girls would be rested and well taken care of.”

“Olivia?” I waved a hand in front of her face when she didn't say nor blink for solid 30 seconds.

“Oh, I'm sorry for staring at you.” She put her hand in front of her mouth, embarrassed. “I just don't think I ever told you how lucky Nova is to have you.”

“Oh,” I felt the heat on my cheeks, “thank you.”

“I mean it, Charlie. Roger and I were hoping that our Nova would find someone that can truly understand her and bring the best out of her. You have done that and so much more and I know we don't talk often and you needed quite some time to loosen up around me,” she giggled, “but just know that I think you are perfect for my daughter.”

“Uh, I-”

“Good morning.” Nova's soft voice saved me from my awkward stuttering.

Olivia's compliment caught me completely off guard. Nova has always been closer to my mum than I was with hers. Mostly, because she hardly had the time to see us and we never really spent that much time on our own – Nova was always with us.

She was right when she said that I needed some time to relax around her. She never gave me any reason not to, I just found her intimidating and I wanted her to like me, especially when Nova and I started dating.

We got closer ever since we announced that we are going to have a baby and we spent some time alone together when Nova told Bill about her being pregnant. Now, that we have been living with her for the past 14 days because our house is under renovation, we have become really good friends and I finally feel like I am a part of Nova's family.

“How is my favorite girl?” Olivia turned her baby voice on.

“Are you talking to me or Aoede?” Nova giggled giving her the baby then she sat down next to me and kissed me.

“You want to eat something before we go?” I asked her.

“I think Molly will be delighted to give me something and if we go right now, we might catch Fred, George, Ron, and Ginny in their common room.” She smiled at me.

“Right, they won't all be there.” Olivia was still talking in her baby voice. “Who is the prettiest girl in the world?”

Nova and I giggled looking at her mum. She has that voice every time she is talking to our daughter and at this point, I am surprised that she can even switch back to her normal voice.

“I'll go upstairs and prepare everything then.” I started to get up.

“I already did that but I did forget the bag upstairs if you could...”

“I'm on it!” I stood up cutting Nova off.

The sooner we come to the Burrow the sooner we can come back here.

—

“Are you ready?” I whispered to Nova as we were standing in front of the door of my childhood home.

“Are you?” She whispered back, trying not to wake up the baby.

“I'll be fine as long as she doesn't say anything to you.” I kissed her.

“See, sweetheart, daddy is very overprotective so you should get used to that.” Nova giggled, kissing our daughter's nose.

We barely had the time to knock on the door when it swung open.

“You are finally here! What took you so long!” Mum's voice was nothing near a whisper.

I looked at Aoede who just moved in the blanket Nova had her wrapped in and continued sleeping.

“Oh, the baby is sleeping. I'm sorry.” Mum lowered her voice and moved so we could come inside.

“Hi, dad.” I waved at him as he stood up from the sofa.

“There he is! Welcome to fatherhood!” He pulled me into a hug and tapped me twice on the back.

“Thanks, dad.” I couldn't stop a smile from spreading all over my face.

I liked my new title a lot. I always wanted a family but it wasn't until our daughter was born that I realized just how strong my wish to be a dad was. I know I can't be the one talking, Aoede being born 14 days ago but so far I loved every second of it – even when Aoede was crying in the middle of the night, not willing to fall asleep.

“I am sorry that nobody else could come, dear.” Mum was next to hug me.

“Bill can't make it?” I tried hiding the disappointment in my voice.

“Sadly, he has been more than busy at work lately.” Mum genuinely looked like she felt sorry that he couldn't come.

“It's okay. We'll meet with him some other day.” I turned to the fireplace.

“What are you doing, Charles?” Mum rushed to my side.

“I sent Fred an owl to meet us through the fire. We have half an hour before the twins, Ron and Ginny continue with their classes.” I explained.

“Oh, don't be silly.” Mum swung her hand. “They'll have the time to meet the baby, properly. You can't do it over the fire.”

“When? In July? Don't be ridiculous.” I turned around to cast a spell on the fire.

“We wish you could all be here for this moment so we came up with a solution.” Nova who was sitting on the sofa, watching my dad holding Aoede, smiled.

“Dad, Nova, come here, so we can all be close to the fire.” I gestured for them to move.

“You can't bring the baby so close to the fire.” Mum protested, trying to stop my dad from sitting down in front of the fireplace.

“Molly, we trust Arthur that he will be careful.” Nova tried calming her down.

“Please stop telling us how to take care of our baby.” I sighed, trying to stay as calm as possible, repeating Olivia's words in my head.

“But...”

“Oh, where is the baby? Where is it?” George's voice interrupted my mum from making me mad.

“Does it have red hair?” Ginny exclaimed.

“Does it look like me?” Fred clapped his hands together.

“Does it have my eyes?” Ron blinked a few times.

“Mum, dad, Fred, George, Ron, Ginny meet your granddaughter and niece, Aoede Io.” Dad gently placed Aoede in my hands and I carefully sat down in front of the fire in the hopes that they will be able to see her.

“Oh, she is so cute!” Ginny put her hands over her mouth.

“She is so small!” Fred was the next to speak.

“She looks nothing like us, Fred.” George tried sounding disappointed.

“We...we have a granddaughter.”

The second mum heard me say it, her cheeks were soaked with tears and she forgot all about the dangers of fire and kneeled next to me to finally get a proper look of the little girl in my hands.

“Arthur,” she breathed, “look at her. She is perfect.” Mum sniffed.

“Who picked the name?” Ron asked.

“Charlie.” Nova smiled, leaning her chin on my shoulder, sitting behind me as the space in front of the fireplace was too small to accommodate everyone.

“She has a beautiful name.” Ginny's voice shook a little.

“I don't know if you can see her.” I frowned.

“We see her just fine. Thank you for doing this, Charlie.” George smiled.

“Of course! When you'll see her in the Summer she will be 5 months old.” Nova returned the smile.

“Will I be allowed to hold her?” Ginny asked.

“Of course, you will. All of you will.” I answered, giving Aoede an Eskimo kiss.

“So, who won the bet?” I smirked.

“Almost forgot about that!” Fred jumped on the spot.

“Pay up, George and Ron!” Ginny extended her hand as if waiting for them to give her the money.

“How many times do we have to tell you that Ginny is always right?” I giggled, watching George and Ron give Fred and Ginny the coins.

“Don't get me wrong, I can't wait to meet her, but we have to go!” Ginny nudged her brothers and stood up. “Nova, Charlie, congratulations!” She grinned at us before standing up.

“Yeah, congrats!” Ron followed her lead.

“Thank you for making us uncles!” The twins said in unison.

“I hope you know, we will spoil her rotten.” George chuckled and they broke off the connection.

“Her? I have a niece?” All four of us turned around, seeing Bill standing behind us.

“Bill, you came!” Nova got up at once and threw her arms around him.

“Are you kidding? I wouldn't miss seeing my niece for the first time for anything in this world.” He smiled and returned the hug.

“But you told mum that you can't make it.” I gave Aoede to mum who was eyeing her with sparks in her eyes and stood up.

“I wanted it to be a surprise.” He winked at me before pulling me into a hug.

“Can I hold her?” Bill asked hopefully, looking at the baby in mum's arms.

“Here you go, William. Be careful with the head.” Mum gave him Aoede and Bill made his way to the sofa.

“Bill, meet your niece, Aoede.” I sat down next to him.

“You got your wish with the name.” He smirked.

That day when Nova told Bill she was pregnant we went for a walk when they came back and he asked me about baby names and I was just too excited not to talk about them to him.

“She looks so much like you, Nova.” Bill whispered as Nova sat down next to him on his other side.

“Even though it's darker than yours.” Bill looked from his niece to me.

“Except the hair.” Dad giggled.

“I was hoping she would get Charlie's hair.” Nova gently ruffled Aoede's soft locks.

“He had the same color when he was born.” Mum said, sitting in her armchair, admiring the scene before her.

“Did you give her a middle name?” Bill asked his eyes on the baby.

“Io.” Nova answered.

“Aww, like you. That is precious.” Bill cooed.

“Do you think she'll have any freckles?” Bill asked after a moment of admiring his niece.

“We hope so.” Nova leaned on his shoulder.

“If you look closely, she has 3 on her nose.” I giggled.

“How was the delivery?” Dad was the first one to snap out of us all looking at our baby girl.

“It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be.” Nova rubbed her chin.

“What's important is that it all went smoothly and that you're both okay.”

Just as my mum said that Aoede started crying.

“Oh, no. What did I do?” Bill started to panic.

“Nothing.” Nova giggled. “She's just hungry.” She gestured for Bill to give her the baby and she slowly made her way upstairs.

“Do you want me to come with you?” I started to get up.

“No, no. We'll be fine. Won't we?” She used the same baby voice on Aoede as her mum did.

“She looks fine and rested.” Mum turned to me the second they disappeared on the stairs.

“We are managing. Nova is feeding her when she's hungry and I take care of all the rest so that Nova can get her strength back.” I said nonchalantly.

“That's my son.” Dad winked at me.

“Congratulations, Charlie. She is just lovely.” Bill pulled me into another hug. “When are you having the next one?”

“Hey, slow down. Let this one grow a little.” I laughed, knowing full well he was only joking.

#harry potter hogwarts mystery #harry potter fanfiction #hphm charlie #charlie weasley #charlie weasley fanfiction #hogwarts mystery mc #the weasleys #hphm fanfiction #hp imagine #charlie weasley x oc #hphm imagine #charlie weasley imagine #harry potter imagine #weasley fanfiction #the burrow

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halfway-happyyy · 3 years

Text

The one where Alexander takes his girl home to Sweden

First longer piece in a hot minute! inspired by this lovely ask. Thanks for looking, and as always feedback is always appreciated.

“They'd like to meet you, kid.”

Silence followed his statement and her bleary gaze travelled upwards to a patch of dust particles dancing in a strip of light from the parted bedroom curtain. She knew immediately who he was referring to, but that didn't mean she had to make it easy for him.

“You're going to have to be a bit more specific than that, Alex. The list of people who'd like to meet me is long and painfully distinguished.”

Alexander nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck, the subtle scruff of his beard ticklish against her delicate skin. His exasperated groan was almost inaudible. “My family, smart-ass.”

There it was.

Grace had known that this conversation was coming soon; it loomed above her head like a raincloud. She could sense it in the way he spoke of Sweden recently, could sense it in the way his ocean-blue eyes lit up at the mere mention of his brothers and sister. God, even just the idea of it was almost too intimidating to bear. Where she had come from a small, slightly broken family, he had been born into an inexplicably close and loving one. Though each of them led vastly different lives in vastly different areas of the world, they gathered amongst themselves in the beautiful country of Sweden multiple times throughout the year, and it would always be home base for him. She found the notion of it wonderful and jealousy-inducing in equal measure. She traced a feather-light fingertip down the bridge of his nose and marveled at the subtle flecks of gold amongst a sea of blue. Of all the things that she adored about his face, the deep creases next to his eyes were her favourite. They spoke novels of how much time the man spent smiling and the thought of it caused her heart to swell. “Your family doesn’t want to meet me, Alex. You want your family to meet me.” She murmured, finally.

Alexander clicked his tongue in mild protest. “That’s not true.” He took her hand in his and brought it to his mouth, brushing each of her knuckles with his lips. The warmth and sheer intimacy of the touch caused her to shiver violently and he grinned against her hand. Brushing a stray piece of hair from her face, he gazed at her for a while and finally whispered, “Come to Sweden with me, Grace.”

And partly because his soft voice bore the weight of recent sleep- but mostly because she always did have a particularly difficult time saying no to him, she squeezed his hand thrice and nodded her head. “Okay Alex.”

“We’re here, kid.” Alexander’s lips at her temple helped to rouse her from her gravol-induced coma and she hugged her sweater tighter to her frame as the temperature of the plane became apparent to her. He stood from his seat and stretched his arms high above his head to limber up after the lengthy flight. Opening the overhead compartment with ease, he brought down her carry-on and a single, worn duffle bag- the only piece of luggage he ever traveled with, and smiled expectantly at her. “You all set?”

Grace stifled a yawn and nodded her head, a slow, sleepy smile in place on her features. “Lead the way, my love.” She had expected a certain amount of fanfare upon exit of the terminal- she could not recount a time in recent memory where there had not been a fury of cameras and photographers upon arrival. Strangely, and most welcomely, Arlanda airport was completely void of both.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” Alexander grinned.

She struggled to keep up with his hasty stride though the terminals- something she lovingly referred to as his airport walk. “It’s lovely.” She mused.

It was late into the evening when they finished grabbing her bag from the carousel and stepped out into the balmy Stockholm evening. Alexander’s brother Sam was already waiting for them a few cars ahead in the cue, leant against the side of a dark sedan, one long, denim-clad leg crossed over the other. “Hej hej!” He called out to them and stood from the car to wrap his arms around Alexander. They parted a few moments later, laughing at something indistinguishable. “Good to see you again, brother.” Sam beamed. “And you must be Grace…” He turned to her; a long pair of arms beckoned her forward for an embrace which she happily obliged. She was amused to discover that like Alexander, she needed to reach on tiptoes to hug the younger Skarsgård properly. She had known them to be a tall breed of men, but this? Sam broke away to gesture to the vehicle with a toothy grin. “Let’s get you two home, hm? Mum can’t wait another hour longer.”

Though the inky evening sky cloaked all of Stockholm in darkness, Grace was in utter awe of the city in which she was currently being given a rapid grand-tour of. Alexander pointed out important buildings on his left, and Sam managed to cover everything on the right side of the vehicle. She remained dazzled by the bright, twinkling lights, and was amazed at how breathtaking the city was at night. “Just wait until tomorrow, Grace.” Sam glanced at her reflection in the rearview mirror and grinned.

“We’re here, my love.” Alexander uttered for the second time that evening, as the vehicle rolled to a halt in front of their mother’s house in the south of the city. A quick glance at the clock above the car radio told her that it was just past twelve thirty in the morning, and she was surprised to see My wide awake and waiting on the porch for them. Grace swallowed hard and found that her mouth was suddenly void of all moisture, nerves churning in her belly like clothing in a washing machine. Sensing the sudden shift in her mood, Alexander exited the car and came around to her side, opening the door and crouching down to her level. “Look at me kid.” He took her hand in his and raised it to his lips, kissing her slightly clammy palm. “No need to be nervous, hm? They’re going to love you.”

Taking a deep breath, Grace smiled down at him and ventured around to the boot of the car where Sam was in the process of hauling out their luggage. “Can I help you with those?” She offered.

Sam shook his head, that same boyish grin from an hour ago still split his face in two. “Nah, there’s not much here,” He gestured over to his mother with a jut of his chin. “Besides, she’s been waiting weeks to see you both. Go on.”

Alexander waited for her at the bottom of the stone path, his hand outstretched and poised to take hers. They traversed the path together, the warmth from his hand radiated into hers and helped to calm her frayed nerves immensely. “Hi mum.” Alexander grinned when they reached her.

My’s beautiful face broke into a wide grin and Grace knew right then that Sam had come by that wonderful smile honestly. Their mother, confusingly short in comparison to her two sons, reached up on tiptoes to cradle Alexander’s face in her hands and kiss both of his cheeks passionately. He reveled in her touch, but when his time was up, he stood back to make room for Grace. My embraced her exactly as she had her son, and though she could most certainly attribute it to impending jet lag, a lump of raw emotion rose in the hollow of her throat as My kissed her cheeks. She pulled back and gave Grace's arms a warm squeeze. “So happy to finally have you both here. Please, come in.”

Once situated inside the cozy, utterly lived-in home, Grace immediately felt the tension dissipate from her limbs. On her way back to the living room after putting away her belongings in the spare room, she found herself stopped in awe in the hallway. Pictures of the family adorned almost every square inch of wall space, and inexplicably, Grace's throat constricted and she felt the familiar prickle of tears behind her eyes again.

“There you are,” Alexander smiled when he spotted her. Wordlessly, he settled beside her and reached for her hand, bringing the back of it to his lips. “You okay, kid?”

She turned to him, saltwater glittering threateningly in the depths of her eyes, and smiled. “There's so much love here, Alex.” She trailed a finger over the edge of a wooden picture frame. The photograph inside depicted six beautiful, smiling children, each of varying ages. “It's so palpable. It's in the very air we breathe right now… like magic.” Alexander hummed contentedly and bent forward to kiss the top of her head. “I want a home like this someday…” She mused.

Alexander squeezed her hand thrice and placed another kiss to the top of her head. “Someday you will.”

After a midnight snack of lingonberry jam and toast and a glass of wine to wind down from the day’s events, Grace drifted off to sleep on Alexander’s shoulder at the kitchen table. She had fought it for as long as her body would let her, but the calming lilt of muted conversation in their native tongue caused her eyelids to grow increasingly heavy until they eventually gave in to slumber altogether. Alexander must have carried her to their room, because when her eyes opened six and a half hours later, she was tucked up in the guestroom bed. Her desire to move had been nonexistent until the scent of coffee and fresh pastries found her, and her mouth watered hungrily for them. Stretching her arms above her head, she stifled a yawn and shivered as her bare feet touched the cool, hardwood flooring. She took a few moments to study the room in which she would be spending the next two weeks. The walls were washed in a pale, robins-egg blue and with an unexpected pang, it reminded her of her grandparent’s guest room in their old house back home. She gazed at the folk artwork adorning the walls, and at the wicker furniture dispersed around the room and she decided then that this could be her home for rest of her life, and she wouldn't complain one bit about it. Changing into a pair of jeans and a flannel shirt, she threw a knit cardigan over her exposed arms and padded out into the hallway outside her door. She hadn't meant for it to happen, but she stopped again in front of the dozens of picture frames and gazed at them for a long while.

Grace peered at a black and white photograph of Alexander as a child, grinning wide and standing tall above a younger looking My. “And just imagine that he ended being arguably the most attractive one out of all of us.” A beautiful voice, utterly melodic as it flowed from her mouth- bore a teasing lilt and caused Grace to startle on the spot.

She glanced over at the woman next to her, a spitting image of her mother, she had seen photos of her face several times in the past, but nothing could prepare her for the natural beauty that Alexander’s sister possessed. It was ethereal- like sunshine through a glass window and Grace smiled at her. “No, I doubt anyone would argue with me if I said that you won that one hands down.”

Eija tilted her head back as laughter bubbled up from the base of her throat like a pretty song. “It’s wonderful to finally meet you, Grace.” They chatted contentedly for the next few minutes before the allure of coffee and food became too strong, and Eija escorted Grace to the kitchen. Alexander was seated at the end of the wooden table, arms crossed over his t shirt clad chest, and in deep conversation with Sam. “How do you take your coffee, Grace?” Eija asked and reached on tiptoes for a mug at the back of the open cupboard.

“Uh, black please,” Grace could not make out what was being said, but the tone of her boyfriend’s voice had changed drastically over the course of only a few seconds and she frowned. “Are they arguing?” She whispered.

Eija dropped back onto the balls of her feet and shook her head no, her ruby-red lips quirked up into a half-smirk. “No. But they are talking politics.” She set to work brewing what to Grace, smelled like the world’s best cup of coffee and winked at her, her glassy blue eyes glittering mischievously in the bright, sunlit kitchen. “Just wait until dinner tonight… we are a large, highly opinionated family and there is plenty more where that came from.”

Grace's day had been so packed with activity that she had hardly been allotted moment to agonize over the looming family dinner. She knew deep down that there was nothing to be nervous about- that she intended on spending the rest of her life with Alexander, and that if she was lucky enough, his family would become her family too. But there was a lot of them, and the pressure to make a good impression weighed heavily on her. “You okay over there?” Alexander sidled up behind her in front of the full-length guest room mirror, resting his chin atop her head. “You’ve got your 'over-thinking-everything' face on.” She frowned back at him. “It’s still the most beautiful face in the world, kid. But I’ve known you far too long now to know when something’s on your mind.”

She cocked her head to the side and gazed at him. She couldn't pin-point exactly when the change had occured, but she could read his face like her favourite book now. Knew where scars had started, knew the precise location of dustings of freckles. She knew what to say to make him smile, what to say to make him frown. Somehow, the stars had aligned, and she had met him and now here she was, in his home country, moments away from meeting the entirety of his family. She took a deep, steadying breath and tilted her face up to kiss the underside of his stubbled jaw. “I love you Alex.”

“I love you endlessly, Grace.”

She had been slightly taken aback at the lack of distance that existed between Alexander’s parents’ houses. She had known that they had been able to remain better friends than ever after the divorce but living within walking distance of each other seemed unheard of to Grace. Perhaps that was because her parents could hardly manage a simple hello to each other after the dust had settled.

Stellan Skarsgård’s silhouette- stark against the bright light emanating from the house behind him, stood leant against the front pillar of his porch, a full glass of red wine wedged within his grasp, which he lifted in greeting when he caught site of the emerging clan. He embraced Alexander, Eija, and My as if it was the last time he would ever have the chance to do it again, and when his gaze fell on Grace’s, he handed his wine to Alexander and pulled her in for a near-crushing embrace. When he drew back, he was absolutely beaming at her. “Grace, it is an absolute pleasure to finally put a face to the name that our Alex here, has spoken novels of. Please, come in and make yourself at home.” It was an undeniably busy house, chock-full of intentional laughter, bits and pieces of Swedish conversation, and the enticing scent of a mouth-watering feast. Grace was sat wedged between Alexander and Valter at the dinner table and was awed at how much the youngest of the boys resembled Eija, and she was surprised to note that his sass rivalled hers as well. Once the chatter had dwindled to a level white noise, Stellan rose from his seat at the head of the table and cleared his throat. “Ehm, I don’t normally make these kinds of announcements before a dinner, but tonight is a special one.” He gestured with his near-empty glass to Grace, and she felt her cheeks burn hot under the sudden onslaught of attention. “Tonight, we drink to good health, we drink to family, and we drink to our lovely, newfound Grace. Cheers, everyone.”

“Cheers to you, my love.” Alexander whispered and pressed a kiss to her temple.

Grace ate until she could not fathom scooping one more morsel of delicious food onto her plate, and she leaned back and took a deep breath, all too content to watch everyone converse and unwind from the wonderful meal they had all just experienced. After dessert, Alexander excused himself to join a heated debate at the end of the table with Eija and Valter. To her surprise, Stellan took the empty seat next to her, wordlessly topping up her empty glass. “My and I worked hard to teach them everything they know,” He murmured, blue gaze scanning the happy faces around him. “We tried to instill in them as children to question everything- and each one of them has become perspicacious, opinionated, conversationalists because of it.”

The way he spoke of his children- the obvious love and adoration he had for them caused Grace’s heart to swell in her chest and she smiled softly at him. “You both must be so proud of them.”

Stellan’s eyes twinkled in the low light of the lamps scattered around the dining room and he nodded his head slowly. “Very proud. Always.” He took another sip of his wine and turned to Grace. “I know I mentioned it already this evening but having you here in Sweden really is such a treat for all of us,” Grace’s cheeks grew pink again and she took another hearty sip of wine, savoring the slighty bitter tannin on her tongue before she swallowed, and offered him up a small smile. “Alex is an extraordinary creature, Grace. Loud and boisterous- and deeply sensitive. Almost to a fault. But humor and compassion for other people beyond all measure. Just the absolute best parts of his mother and I,” He finished off the rest of his glass and set it against the wooden tabletop with a dull thud. “He’s never brought a partner home to Sweden before, and I can’t help but be elated that it’s you he’s chosen to bring to us.”

Grace verged the edge of speechless at the sudden revelation and she swallowed hard, the kind words almost too much to comprehend. “The pleasure has been all mine, truly.” Before getting up to leave, Stellan bent down to her level and pressed a quick kiss to the apple of her cheek.

Alexander appeared next to Grace an hour later, the apples of his cheeks rosy from happiness, and the wine consumed. "Come dance with me."

Grace had just finished an in-depth conversation with Eija and cocked an eyebrow in surprise. “Right now?”

He nodded his head, his sandy blonde hair disheveled now and hanging over an eye. “Yes, right now.” He extended a hand out for her to take, which she obliged, hesitantly. He led her to a second room off the one they had just been in, and a record player sat playing on a glass table in the corner.

“Your lips are stained purple with syrah,” She giggled.

Alexander brushed a piece of hair behind her ear. “Are you having a good night, kid?”

Grace smiled and rested her cheek against his chest as they swayed along to a Bob Dylan song in the background. She reveled in the heat emanating from him, and in the familiar feeling of his heartbeat against her cheek. “I’m having a wonderful night, Alex. Sweden- your family, are a dream.” The opening chords to Girl from the North Country could be heard above the crackle of the record player, and Grace gazed up at Alexander from under enviously long lashes. “God, I love this song,” She murmured wistfully. “Hope to dance to it my wedding someday.”

Alexander held her tighter to him, oblivious to Stellan and My who were now stood side by side and watching them from the other room. He brought her hand to his lips and kissed each knuckle earnestly, knowing that one day soon he would be making that dream a reality. “Someday you will, Grace.”

@awaterfalls

#alexander skarsgard #alexander skarsgard x reader #alexander skarsgard imagines #alexander skarsgard fluff #fluff #writing #alex sstuff #disclaimer: i havent been to sweden yet so please dont drag me #who is grace??#idk but i felt like reader needed a name for this one so bear with me folks #alexander skarsgård

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