#alright. alright I oughta stand up and take care of dinner now

[atinylittlepain]

Chapter Three

no-outbreak!Joel Miller x f!oc

series masterlist

series playlist

warnings: dark themes surrounding history of domestic violence, references to physical injury, heavy emotions (hope can also be heavy)

a/n: all i have to say is thank you for reading, and i'd love to hear what you think

...............................

If I could go

Baby where you go

If i could know

Baby what you know

Then I could see

Baby what you see

Baby Where You Are - Ted Lucas

.................................

Dolores isn’t Dolores anymore. It hadn’t been on purpose. Something Joel had found himself calling her, something that she didn’t rebuke or reject. Something that fit, all her flight and fret, the fragile flinch of her feathers. Get too close, and watch her flee, winged reaction. Give her space, and watch grace move, gentle as she can be, kind as she can be. A new name that still somehow fit. It had slipped out around town a few times, enough for it to catch. 

“Thanks, Dove. Why don’t you come by the shop this afternoon? Got a coat in that should be about your size, and you’re gonna need one pretty soon.” Patty is right. Fall is coming in with a sharp tooth this year. The wind picking up, blowing in bite. Mountains turning over in a blaze of death, everything starting to crisp and singe orange and yellow around the edges. But not time for coats yet. Sweaters, sure. But a coat would mean staying, long enough at least to see another season settle. Joel tries not to watch her reaction to Patty’s words too closely, a feigned yawn, a glance over his shoulder out the windows of the diner. 

“Okay, that’d be great, thank you.” Patty takes her lunch to go, a murmured greeting and goodbye to Joel as she lets her hip lead her out the door, a tip of his brow in reply. 

“Would that be alright?” A beat for him to realize that she’s asking him. Less of this lately, all the extra, unneeded thank yous, the careful permission asked after. But still, sometimes, her feathers pluming between the bars of a cage he wishes she’d step out of entirely. 

“Of course, don’t have to ask that. Reckon I oughta pick up a few things myself.” The truth is, all his jeans are fitting tighter. A little fuller lately, a little warmer. Because she can cook, and she likes to, full, warm things that turn the windows sweet with syrupy fog in the evenings. When he first came out here, he lost weight, new notches in his belt to keep his pants up until Patty forced a few new pairs into his hands. No other body to watch after, out for, no concern for three square anything all on his own. But now, breakfast every morning and dinner every night, still trying to keep his knees from brushing against hers under the table, even in the evening’s satisfied slump. And lunch at the diner, whenever he can, always a few fries on the side that he didn’t order. So yeah, lately the zipper is a battle, and the button is a negotiation, and it feels pretty good, like presence. 

She hands him his check, quick lightning in the pass of fingertips, a brush that doesn’t make her flinch. Thoughts he shouldn’t be having, a feel for something he shouldn’t be wanting, he clears his throat, once, twice, napkin held to his mouth should any words try to slip out. 

“What time is the vet coming?” Soon, he thinks, already taking time he doesn’t have, a sigh as he stands from his seat.

“One, he’s always a little late though.” He’s not, but saying it smooths the crease of worry between her brows. Worry, she’s worried about the damn sheep. He thinks she might like the sheep more than she likes him. More comfort with them, at least. It’s not a him thing, though. It’s a people thing. He can understand that, for reasons of his own. After all, he was the one that bought the sheep in the first place. 

“You’ll tell me what he says?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I just, you know, have a feeling.” She says it with a shrug, her words twisting up into a smile at the end. She’s had a feeling for the last week about two of the girls. Avril and Lucy, she had told him over breakfast one morning, just a feeling. He had asked how, half a smile, how. And she had given him a shrug not unlike the one she just rolled her shoulders in. Just a feeling. 

“We’ll see what he says. Still don’t know where you’re getting that feeling from. They all look the same to me.” She scoffs, nose scrunching up as she hands him back change that he’s already planning to tuck into the tip jar when her back is turned. 

“It’s not a look, Joel. It’s just a feeling.” 

“Yeah, alright, whatever you say. Tell you what, if you’re right, I owe you that coat Patty’s holding for you.” He was half-expecting her reaction, complete exasperation in her sigh, where once there was worry, a well-worn routine that has softened around the edges.

“You’re not buying that coat for me.”

“Well, not if that feeling of yours is wrong I’m not.” 

“And what do you get if I’m wrong?” Nothing, he doesn’t want anything. He can’t want anything, not from her. 

“I’ll think of something. But you seem pretty sure that you’re right.” Flustered, he thinks, all flap and flutter as her smile slants, turning away with a wave of her hand, forget it, to get back to work. Sure in herself, and in him too. That he’ll be back a little after four, that they’ll stop by Patty’s place on the way home, that they’ll go home, that there is home. No catch, she has finally learned. Settling into no catch.

The vet hasn’t shown up yet by the time Joel returns to the house, nothing to do but wait. There’s a stack of books on the coffee table in the living room. She’s going to have run right through the library’s stock at the clipped rate she’s currently going. There’s been many a morning that he’s found her in the same position he said goodnight to her in, perched in the corner of the couch, all tucked in on herself, a book in her hands near finished where she had only just started it the night before. 

How quickly people’s ghosts take up residence in a space. All the evidence of absence, and the promise of it being filled up again, soon. Her sweater hanging on the hook by the door, her boots settled and slumped next to his, two coffee mugs drying next to the sink. 

How quickly he must remind himself that all of this will end, eventually. That she will leave, and he will let her, and he will be happy for her. Help, and nothing more. Care, however temporary it may be. But for now, the promise of a new coat, and with it, another season. For now, she’s staying.

…

“Well?”

“Nice to see you too.” 

“Joel.” He can’t help himself, leaning back in the driver’s seat, letting her huff at him, just a little puff of impatience. 

“You were right.” 

“Both of them?”

“Yes, ma’am. He couldn’t tell how many, but twins are pretty–”

“Oh wow.” A whispered thing, a wondered thing, one of her palms pressed over the center of her sternum like she can feel it there. And suddenly, he feels it too. 

“So when are they– when will they be here?” It’s a particular way to ask it, a bit strange, steeped in that same awe.

“Vet said sometime around January, so we’ll certainly have our work cut out for us.” It’s a leap, one that makes his stomach lurch as he says it, knowing exactly what he’s doing. Feeling around in the dark, trying to find where the ending is. 

“Oh wow.” Just that again, curling at the edges with her smile, an answer in and of itself. Or at least he hopes. 

“Suppose I owe you that coat now.” She snorts, a sound that would be ugly coming from anyone else, though it only feels like a relief coming from her, shaking her head at him. 

“Oh please, I can pay for that coat just fine. Someone left an annoyingly large tip for me today.” He threatens a smile, keeping tight-lipped to stop its spread as she looks at him, brow raised, knowing and known. A selfish thought he has had, that those tips he is leaving inch her closer to leaving much faster than he’d like her to, though he hasn’t let that idea fester into any action. 

“That right?”

“Mmhmm.”

“I wonder who it was.” 

“Me too. Anyways, shouldn’t I get to decide what I get for being right?” New, a little bold maybe, her elbow propped up on the passenger side door, knuckles steepled at her temple, ease, space. 

“I guess I can’t argue with that. What do you want?” It’s gone just as fast, and he knows he made a mistake with that question, the quick configuration of her body recollecting itself, hands in her lap, wilting like a flower, all too much. Want isn’t allowed, want isn’t something she lets herself admit to. Always a production when she asks if they can stop by the library, like she’s getting away with something she shouldn’t be, shy and secret. Always waiting for him to start eating first, and always him resisting the urge to say something about that, a cool prickle threading through his skull, because he knows where that comes from. And what could he say that wouldn’t make shame well up? Unmerited shame, undeserved, but he knows her now, and knows that it’d be shame all the same. 

He has to stop himself from sorry, because he knows sorry will spill into something more like the truth. That he would like nothing more than to hear all her big and little wants, to make them real for her, reach out and take them for her, give them to her. But he has wants of his own, and if he speaks any of it,  all his want will surely make her bolt. 

“I’m sorry. I don’t want a thing, really. I’m just excited about the girls, that’s all.” Her words fade and fizzle quiet on the end, all he can do to nod, mercy to make the car move, to not ask for any more from her right now, to not try to take what she is not willing to give. 

She’s quiet through their errands, still kind to Patty, a nice, new coat that he holds onto the image of as a small smolder of hope for staying. And he knows it’s possibly the worst thing he could have to do right now, sick with how she prickles and pinches up when they pull into the station parking lot. But work is work, duty is duty, and he must. A quiet be right back and an even smaller okay from her as he gets out of the car. 

“Miller.” John seems to always be in a variable lean these days, elbows on the counter in the front office, thumbing through some report. Joel offers him a nod as he moves past the man, dropping off more paperwork for a speeding ticket he wrote two nights ago. 

“That husband out of Nebraska called again.” Joel’s spine straightens, steeled and silent. The husband has called every month since she left, since his car got sent back across state lines. Always asking if they’ve heard anything, seen anything. Joel has never been the one to answer those calls, and he’s not sure whether that’s a blessing or a curse. Part of him, poison, wants to hear the man’s voice, give himself something more to hate, something more to imagine in the middle of the night when a closed fist feels like a good idea. 

“He have anything new to say?” John shrugs, only a spared glance over the top of the papers he’s reading, no big deal, no fuss, and Joel has to remind himself that no, no big deal, none at all. A couple hundred miles worth of no big deal. 

“Same thing every time. You’d think he’d try searching elsewhere considering it’s been, what? Three months since that happened?” Four and a half, Joel thinks to himself, though he just nods at John’s estimate, trying on disinterest. 

“You think he’d ever come out here looking?” Wrong, so very, very wrong, he has to bite back a wince when the words leave his mouth, impulsive and idiotic to ask something like that. John’s brow draws down in perfect confusion, papers fanning out in front of him, paused.

“I don’t know, why do you ask?” He can’t bend or bluster now, feigning a yawn and a shrug as he scratches the back of his neck, time to think of what words will make this unnoticeable.

“Like you said, the wife probably ran away for a reason. I just wanna know if we’re gonna have trouble blowing in around here.” It seems to be enough, John sighing like, good point, hadn’t thought of that. 

“Well, he’d be a damn fool to do that after all this time.  Yep, either Lori Wright got the hell out, or she’s gone to the coyotes by now, God forbid.” He didn’t know her last name. Didn’t know Lori either. A shortening, a smalling of Dolores, clearly. Three names for her now. One he will never use.

“Here’s hoping.” He thinks he hears his own voice crack, tilt up somewhere in the middle of hoping, though John doesn’t seem to notice it, already back to his papers, before thinking twice.

“You and Dovey-girl coming to the bar tonight?” She has warmed up to John, just like everyone else in town. She’ll even play a few rounds of darts with him at the bar when they do show up, surprisingly good at it, quick hands and sharp eyes. 

“Probably not tonight, no,  lots to take care of for the winter and all.”

“So she’s staying on for the winter?”

“Yeah, I think so.” Trying to not let that feel too good, palm swiped down his scruff to temper a smile. Willing it and wanting it, even though he shouldn’t. And is he bad for this? For hoping she stays, gone to the coyotes, except not really, except right where husband could find her. A slurry of sick when his mind suddenly flashes with the thought. Her working at the diner and a stranger blowing in as they’re wont to do. Except not a stranger. Except not a stranger’s hand closed in a fist in her hair and dragging her a few hundred miles back across state lines. Except worse, maybe, possibly. Except husband has a gun. So much worse, not maybe, not possibly. Probably. 

“I know I won’t be the only one happy to hear that. She’s been a real addition to the community, you know? A keeper.” John’s words shake him out of his own murmuring thoughts, quick to correct the toxic tinge in his mind. No one is being kept, no one is keeping anyone. Not like that. It can’t be.

“She’s just staying for a little while. Getting her feet under her and– I just, you know, owed her a favor–” He’s making things up, giving more than he should. Something about an old friend, something about Texas even. Lies that will only make things more difficult, not just for him, but for her too. His blunder will require a debriefing at this point, pinning her in this web with him. Though he tells himself it’s protection, a thin, filmy layer of it that might keep husband out, maybe just enough. He hopes it is. 

“Everything okay?” The first thing she asks when he gets back in the car, and he knows that this is her way of trying, of saying sorry for the silence, the sudden shrinking. 

“Yeah, got stopped talking to John. He told me to tell you he’s been practicing his aim, so you better be ready for some competition the next time y’all play a round together.” Another lie, a small one though, and it makes the pinch of worry smooth in her expression, even a clipped laugh. He’ll take it.  

The sun has already closed one eye, half-asleep and hanging on by a thread over the snarled lip of the mountains. It’s been getting cold enough at night that the sheep have started congregating around the barn in the evenings, huddling close and tight to keep in warmth. Pretty soon, he’ll have to set up the heater inside, the promise of another long winter not far away. 

Of course, she heads straight toward the barn when they get home, shrugging into her new coat as she greets the flock, all warmth, all dripping adoration. He’s pretty sure the bleats of the animals are an equally affectionate reciprocation. There’s no fear in how she approaches them, easy pats to their broad bellies, her palms running and scratching along their cheeks and behind their flickering ears how they seem to like it. All the while talking, the most he ever hears her say, always for the animals. He hangs back, leaning against the side of the car, listening, though trying not to look like he is. She pays particular attention to Avril and Lucy, palm splayed over their sides as she murmurs to them. He has to bite back a laugh when she shoots a pointed look toward the two rams, only just discernible in the quick-fading light. Seeming satisfied with her convening, she starts to pluck and pad back through the brush toward him.

“Dinner?” 

“Yes, ma’am. Just tell me how I can help.” 

He’s never known how to cook well. Lots of scrambled eggs and pb and js for Sarah growing up, an errant casserole from a well-meaning neighbor every now and again. But Dolores moves like she knows what she’s doing in the kitchen, something confident in the flick of the stove and the stir of something warm and snaring heat. She always gives him the simplest tasks, sure in what she tells him to do, a cutting board and a knife and the new, fresh things of the fall chopped up small to melt down in their own savor in the pan. 

He always thanks her when they sit down, and she’s just as bad at receiving that as he is, her chin tucked down in a shake of her head. And that thing, that sickening submission thing she does. Doesn’t even lift fork or knife, hands held in her lap until he starts to chew. He’s tried a few times to wait it out, to see if eventually. But no, he supposes they’d be waiting there all night. Conditioning that has been cemented beneath her skull, that only makes that hate get bigger in his chest. And then he starts to wonder after the cooking, if that isn’t just the same, something that fear taught her how to do. His stomach twists with the thought. 

“Can I ask you something?” He shouldn’t. But she nods, dabbing at the corner of her mouth. So he does. 

“You don’t– do you like to do that?” A vague wave of his hand over to the stove, that. Her shoulders raise, a slight hackle.

“I– I don’t mind it. Yes, I like to.” Two different answers, really, like she decided part-way through the first one that it needed to be paved over with something else. 

“Because you don’t have to, you know.” She winces. He did that. He caused that. By poking and prodding around where he shouldn’t have been. 

“I know, I figure it’s the least I can do though.” He’d like to say no, don’t need to do a thing. Already doing so much. Not keeping score. Not keeping anything. Not being kept. But that’s still too dangerous of a truth, silence settling as they continue to eat, nothing right that could be said. Though he refuses to assume this awful role, to move through the ghost rhythms of her old life. Resolving himself for tomorrow, that he will wait at the table all night if he has to, that the food will go cold if it has to, hollow guts until it becomes something different. Because this must be different, and she must know that it is different. And in small ways, he knows that she does. But he cannot let any of this poison seep through, cannot let any piece of him be associated with husband, with horror. 

After dinner, he doesn’t let her anywhere near the dishes, and it’s about the dishes and it isn’t about the dishes, crowding her out of the kitchen, telling her to go, go read, got this, he’s got this. But when he joins her in the living room, she isn’t reading, sitting on the edge of the couch with her elbows on her knees and the raw skin around her thumb worrying between her teeth. 

“Did I do something wrong?” Shit, stomach sinking at her question. And a swift, silent realization that he is going to have to be more explicit about these things. That hers is a mind on high alert for anything out of place, any word out of tune, and that he will have to be careful, so careful to reassure and remember that. 

“No, that’s not– you haven’t done anything wrong. I– you don’t owe me a thing, do you understand that? I’m serious. I’m not waiting for you to repay anything or earn anything. It’s not like that.” Not like him, what he’d really like to say. Not like a few hundred miles across state lines, what he’d really like to say. And he wishes more than anything that she would understand that by now. But then, how many years worth of unlearning does she have to do? 

She mentioned something about their tenth wedding anniversary, always more liable to talk after half a beer at the bar, close and quiet with him. Husband came home later than he was supposed to and she made a comment about them missing their dinner reservation and he made her sorry for the rest of the night for making a comment about them missing their dinner reservation. So ten years, at least. A whole decade that must be unraveled.

“I want something.” It’s so unexpected that his next inhale gets stuck somewhere in his throat, though he’s quick to catch it, clearing it out as he nods at her.

“Okay, what do you want?” She gets up from the couch, turning to stand in front of him, a few shuffled steps to where he’s standing in the doorway. 

“I don’t know if I should want it.” He does not flinch or freeze when careful fingers curl around his wrist, not even when his pulse jumps as she takes his hand between both of hers, pressed like planes of glass, flat and fragile. 

“Tell me what it is, Dove.” If he moves even the smallest muscle, she might startle, spook, and split away at the edges, so he stays so still, letting her turn his hand this way and that between both of hers, her lashes splayed over the tops of her cheeks in the droop of her eyes. 

“I shouldn’t.” 

“I think you should.”

“You’ll think I’m crazy.”

“I don’t think you’re crazy.”

“You will if I tell you.” 

“No, I won’t.” 

“You won’t?”

“I promise I won’t.” She sighs, a long, aching sound that starts one of his own in his chest. Finally, fingers threading with his. 

“This is hard for me.”

“I know it is.” Finally, eyes given to him, flickering up and holding there.

“I can’t, Joel. I’m sorry.” But she doesn’t let go, doesn’t look away. And this has to be enough, he has to make it enough. Not the time to push, to try to take any more from her than she has already given him. Not now, not when her thumb is smoothing a line into the side of his hand. Not when anything more could take all of this away. 

“It’s okay, Dovey. Take your time.” Because he’d give all of it to her, every second he could possibly promise away to her, and there’s no use lying about that now.

Catch and release, her hand already untangling from his, arms crossing over her stomach, closing up all over again. But not nothing. Something different. Something changing, carefully reconfiguring around each other. 

She sits back down on the couch, and it’s wordless, the way that he settles next to her. Nothing asked after, a silent understanding. Both learning, moving with the other. His arm settles over the back of the couch, presence more than anything, and she reciprocates in kind, leaning a little closer, fitting her shoulder under his, hip to hip. It’s slow, glacial really, the way they fit the fact of their bodies around each other. But eventually, his hand settles as a suggestion over her shoulder, and her thigh presses up against his. And the last fall, the last allowance, comes in the way her head tilts to lay against his chest. Fitting together all these strange and broken pieces, until it’s as easy as respiration. 

She can take her time, and his too. This can be as slow as it needs to be. But he thinks that he knows what she wants, and he thinks it’s the same thing he’s been trying so hard to tamp down, to temper and toe some imaginary line against and away from. For now, even the thought that this could be shared is enough, weak with wanting, and he doesn’t care anymore. 

He can want, and so can she. 

..................................

taglist: @casssiopeia @eleganthottubfun @anoverwhelmingdin @sscorpiiio @joeldjarin @casa-boiardi @suzmagine @syakhairi @spookyxsam @northernbluess @hier--soir @darkroastjoel @wannab-urs @tieronecrush @beskarandblasters @trulybetty @softlyspector @noisynightmarepoetry @csarab615 @beskarandblasters @ratoonstown @harriedandharassed @survivingandenduring

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #tlou #tlou fanfiction #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff #the last of us #joel miller story #joel miller series #joel miller fics #joel miller au #joel miller fic #joel miller imagine

[bogbees]

(Jazz hands) ROLE REVERSAL

7:30 AM · Nov 19, 2017

Kakashi sensei is a.... character. He's very precise and very relaxed individual, his students claim him to be lazy - until they find themselves in a lecture. He's very thorough and adamant.

He's the only person in the damn village to give Naruto his full undivided attention. It morphs into some sort of family bond later and he wants to tear his eyes out bc of it.

Kakashi regularly makes sure the kid is eating his veggies. And cares so much ab him passing his final exam he ends up fighting Mizuki and getting a huge damn shuriken through his back

Naruto cries and does KAGE BUSHIN NO JUTSU and passes and now Kakashi is crying bc his son is happy and sage (and not bc of the pain no)

Iruka Umino ex elite anbu ninja, failed all his previous genin teams cause they never meet his impossibly high standards gets assigned Naruto, Sakura and Sasuke

Kakashi is gonna piss himself bc of course Naruto would end up with that guy! Of course! Still worried if Nar will pass tho. He thinks he did a FAB job teaching them

Iruka sorta jokes around with them - his prankster days never died - and finds their complete uncoordination appalling. Bad match up, awful, why these three together - oh wait, they have empathy for another? That's new

So he signs up as their jounin sensei. He's actually kinda excited - don't let Anko find out, she'll tell everyone he actually likes kids.

And then Naruto drags him to a ramen stand and they're waiting for someone --- "Iruka sensei please meet Kakashi neechan!" "Naruto they're Konoha ninja they probably know each other"

And simultainously both Iruka and Kakashi go "Naruto respect your elders" bc they are not having this kid go around calling Kakashi his brother /in public/

They smile. This won't be so bad. Cut to four weeks down the road when Kakashi hires them to wash his dogs for the 3rd time annonsomsly.

Pakkun is tired of these brats being so rough, so he goes "I can't believe Kakashi hired you all again" The room goes quiet. Iruka bites his cheek to keep from laughing. Naruto explodes. Sakura and Sasuke join him. They're throwing wet sponges everywhere

It's chaos and loud and everything is sogged and Kakashi races onto the scene like "stop this!!!" Naruto throws a soggy sponge at him like "you stop hiring us to wash yoyr dogs!!!"

Iruka is laughing his was off as Kakashi and Naruto argue over the benefit of this job. Sakura and Sasuke resume washing the dogs. Pakkun regrets.

By the end of it, Kakashi is serving dinner in the hatake mansion to his previous students and their new teacher and all his dogs. He says he hates it but he's lying

ESPECIALLY WHEN THE CUTE JOUNIN SENSEI OFFERS HIS ASSITANCE. god damn you could bounce a yen off that man's ass

Now Iruka gets them a super cool mission bc they won't stop complaining - Sasuke has started voicing his opinions dear gods - they're escorting an old guy to the wave country

He repeats himself like "children. This is work and you need to be responsible. We are protecting a civilian from harm. Don't be a hero. You will die."

So Zabuza shows up like EYYY LEMME AT EM and Naruto almost dies ish but yo look at that kyubii magic. Haku shows up like "thanks for that" and they all leave

They make it to their destination but can't go home because there's a shitty storm and so Iruka teaches the kids how to climb trees like the monkeys they oughta be

But like, he not only gives them the basics, but a lecture on it too so maybe visualising the process in their head will help. He gets them to try walking along the walls barefoot - they pretty much succeed

So he takes them into the wilderness like "now try that on these trees" and Sakura fucking masters it in one go.

Sasuke and Naruto return to Iruka for instruction, and Iruka rubs his chin like "alright, you both learn by doing, yeah, so here's what we do" and constructs this obstacle course in the woods for them

He's got a thin board over a puddle of mud like "you can stay on using balance, but if i don't see you walk across as you would on ground, you're getting pushed off."

So Sasuke ends up fighting it out before Naruto and Naruto gets crabby bc of it, but now Sasuke and Sakura are very interested in keeping him on par with their skills. So they give him tips and pointers. Iruka couldn't be more proud

On the day Naruto gets it, and they decide to take their training to the water - the gang attacks. And it's solved in like zero minutes bc Iruka is a seals master and thanks to barrier tag traps everything is ok

They all get arrested and somehow Zabuza and Haku flee but no one is too worried bc they're together and that's all that matters

So they stick around to help construction - Iruka thinks it'll give them more stamina and there's chakra control practice by walking on the water. Which they all get sorta, Naruto sinks a little but he's still upright so!

They return to little fan fare but Kakashi's dumb worrying face that is the same as his regular face but u can tell bc his eyes are a little more open. He treats them to ichiraku

Team 7 is like "Kakashi watch this!" And the three of them are walking up the walls and ceiling of his dining room like cicadas and he might cry if Iruka wasn't laughing

"They named the bridge after Naruto!" He says, "I did all the work and he gets the name bc he's too likable!" Kakashi smiles fondly under his mask like 'ain't that the truth'

So circa chunin exams Iruka has taught them more neat ninja skills - Sasuke finds seals to be hella interesting, Sakura has apparently some super rare bloodline and Kakashi's old friend is giving her lessons on that and Naruto is....

Naruto is interested in summoning. He likes the idea of calling things into existence. Kakashi won't help by explaining how his ninken summoning works and Gai's student Tenten isnt too hot on tutorial either

So Iruka has been writing letters up the Wahoo to Jiraiya to try and get the man's help. "Come back." He pleads. "Naruto wants to summon."

So Jiraiya returns solely to fight Iruka for being a nag. Literally. "Iruka Umino you're just like your mother. Annoying." Iruka flicks a smoke bomb at the old man and they play this game of cat and mouse

Only each time Iruka uses a smoke bomb, he's been planting a barrier seal attached to a kunai that's been laced with chakra wire. He's weaving a basket around Jiraiya and catches the old fart in 40 minutes

Naruto, Sasuke, Sakura, Kakashi and Tenzou stare in awe. Iruka just did that. "Naruto, this man will teach you how to summon frogs. Have fun" and leaves. The audience stares at the space he had been and Jiraiya snorts.

So this is how Jiraiya teaches Naruto how to summon. Sasuke vows to be as good as Iruka one day. Sakura and Tenzou build a dog house for Kakashi's dogs. And Kakashi finds Iruka alone at the noodle stand

He's like "whyd you leave like that" "Oh you see, you have to leave Jiraiya alone with what you want him to do. It's the only way." "No really" "Ok I was starving and am not going to pay for Naruto's bottomless pit let alone four more mouths"

And they have a weird date and discuss the upcoming Curnin exams. They agree the kids would be good to go. Iruka laments he idea of getting stuck in a scroll for three days - hes a busy man (and ex anbu! Like!) and Kakashi takes his shoulder "I'll do it"

So they make plans that if their kids try the chunin exams and pass the first round - Kakashi will be there in the scroll for when they pass. It has been decided.

So when the exams get announced, Naruto has one animal summon, Sasuke has five neat barrier tricks and ten more up for circumstance and Sakura can create and will wooden blocks. Plus they all have stellar chakra control!

Iruka thinks they're good to fucking go. Plus he's socialized them well so they shouldn't be picking fights with other Konoha shinobi bc they think they're better than them. He scoffs, imagine, Sasuke picking a fight with Rock Lee! What a weird world that'd be!

They're weirded put by the sand sibs but like, this is before Power of Friendship Gaara so who isn't, really. Iruka's already planning playdates bc jinjurikis should prob stick together, ya know, bond with those who know your suffering

Kakashi is looking over Iruka's shoulder like "dont. Do not write that. Gaara will not come over - he's the Wind's tailed beast we can't trust him"

So the kids pass their first test. Naruto just fakes it, doesn't write nothing, completely confident. Sakura and Sasuke get everything filled out with the correct answers.

So Kakashi gets wasted the night before he goes into the seal. Iruka shows up like at 8 like "don't forget! The thing is tomorrow" And by the power of booze, joy and fondness he kisses Iruka smack on the lips.

They pull apart, Iruka dazzled and looking a little deshelved, Kakashi a dumb love struck smile, and Kakashi closes the door humming.

Iruka kind of staggers home. Lost. Confused. Warm. Light. Cheeks burning and a smiling tugging at his weary frown.

So now it's morning of the second exam, Kakashi is fighting off a mild hangover and as he's getting set up to do the thing, he catches Iruka skirt around the room, why isn't he saying hello --- oh no.

So he's stuck in the scroll - idk can they do stuff in that void, are they just sleeping, suspended animation - for what feels like forever

Iruka HAS NOT been avoiding Kakashi bc of last night's kiss. Nah, he forgot it happened until he made coffee. He's just literally on security detail and can't say hello bc anbu mask - why is Kakashi staring at him???

Kakashi seems to know that he's the monkey or sm bc he won't take his eyes off him and it's pissing Iruka off so he blows the dumb man a kiss He sartles out of his trance and looks away. Iruka rolls his eyes and Anko takes his attention.

Later she's going to seriously ask him if he and Kakashi are a thing. He is going to sputter his beer into her face. She is going to pull a knife and go "try that again lover boy and you won't have any lips" Gods she's awful

So as a weird brother figure, he confirms that they have had one (1) kiss and that he catches Kakashi refer to team 7 as "their kids" often

Anko's grin might tear her face in two. "I win! That's so much money! No one thought you'd go for lazy chunin sensei Kakashi Hatake BUT I CALLED IT!" Iruka is so shocked he can't ask her to be quiet or how ---- "Come on, I know your type, family men."

He diverts the conversation to the examination bc holy shit he can't deal with any of this information. "You met Naruto today didn't you?" "Oh yeah, that kids a riot. Almost had him shit his pants. Good kid."

Iruka buys her a drink for that. Can't have that kid too comfortable around strangers. So they get off their break and return to work. Anko's going back to the tower and Iruka is going to patrol.

Nothing worth noting on the go, pretty quiet and nice, kinda worrying bc of all the foreign ninja - they /all/ can't be this chill can they??? So Iruka clocks out and heads to his fave ramen stand

Anko slithers in after he orders his second bowl and she's like "the money from the bet." He looks at her like 'why aren't you using this to buy more dango??'

"Look I was the only other person besides Asuma who bet on Kakashi. Out of our group" Iruka grimaces, all the ninja in the village have been placing bets on his love life. "So split between me and Asuma, I still have 5000 yen left. Figured to give you half"

"What because you can make easy money off of my love life?" "Nonsense! I still haven't decided what to bet on for your love life!" She looks out of existence like a true shadow clone and Iruka uses the 2500 yen to buy more ramen

What had happened was that Asuma had seen Iruka dressed in his anbu monkey mask entertaining a sullen Kakashi years and years ago. He told Anko one night, piss drunk and now they support it

Iruka doesn't remember the encounter, there's so much bs from being a child in anbu that makes him forget the good times. Kakashi recalls clearly that summer's day when Monkey tried to cheer him up.

Kakashi has the sharingan, but it's also dead. He was able to become a teacher bc he was useless and not an asset to the village.

So depression and ptsd from loosing his friends and family took it's toll and now he thinks it best if he can help teach these children so that maybe these mistakes won't happen again

Anyway so the kids breeze through the forest of certain death like a cake walk, got through as the 4th team they were so good at it Sakura punched kabuto in the face on reflex and he dropped his scroll and since Iruka hadn't introduced them, they dont trust him lmao

They do the scroll thing and out pops Kakashi Sensei with the most stupid smile on his face like "yo. Congrats, you passed" and it's kinda the least climatic thing to happen to them all week.

So the four of them hang around the tower until it's finished - Kakashi has no where to be, he had booked a week off for this. So the kids share with him their new skills - and he supervises spars between the kids who've finished.

The sand sibs end up watching the leaf genin fight each other, and Kakashi asks them if they want to join in. "It'll be like class!" The rookie nine all groan, fuck you Kakashi sensei

So he organises a short spar competition. Five minutes each fight and no weapons, no shots to kill. He includes Gaara in on it and kankuro and temari freeze up. Gaara just nods, slightly pissy but also confused.

So he's got the sand genin and the leaf genin play fighting each other while they wait for the actual fights to clear up. It's not until Rock Lee and Naruto are giving Gaara of the Sand taijutsu pointers that the irony dawns on him.

Monkey shows up like "Hatake-sensei what the fuck is going on here" and Kakashi is no where near afraid of the anbu in the room But the fight stops dead Naruto pipes up "eeeehhhh we're just socializing properly Iruka-sensei, what's the big deal" Everyone stops. Kakashi chokes

Iruka laughs, takes off his mask and smashes it, "well, so much for that." He looks at the group if kids with a big smile, "So are you all being nice to each other?"

We have Shino and Kankuro gushing ab bugs, in the corner, the girls all huddled together like they were always meant to be best friends, Rock Lee and Naruto and Sasuke talking to Gaara like he's not some monster

Kiba and Neiji were just in the middle of a mock flight, still froze stiff. Naruto goes "yes /daaad/ now go kiss Kakashi sensei or something, we're on to something here" And he turns back to the other boys like nothing he just said was life changing.

Iruka sits back down next to kakashi, who has picked up the shards of the mask and the kids continue existing as if they didn't have any supervision

"Was it really that obvious?" Iruka asks. Kakashi isn't sure what he's asking about, be it Monkey, their dumb mutual crush or their family fondness over these brats. But the answer is the same to all of these questions. "Yeah,"

So they watch Neiji and Kiba fight, then watch Ino and Temari spar, their hands lightly laced together as Kakashi hides his face behind a book

Eventually Naruto gets loud and very agitated, Iruka goes over to check on him. "It's the stupid seal, me n Sasuke can't fix it" Turns out Gaara has his stomach exposed to display the shoddiest seal work ever.

"Do you want me to do it?" "See knucklehead, I said Iruka sensei would know what to do!" "Yeah but he's my damn friend I wanna be the one to help!" Iruka smiles and almost cries bc Naruto is so honest and gaara looks startled

Temari and kankuro join them like "you can… Help him??" As if they can't believe the words coming out of his mouth Iruka nods, "it's a simple seal, but I can patch it up and add more so that it doesn't wear away." They look to be near tears

Naruto grins and looks to his new friend like "See, told ya, we jinjuriki gotta stay together" and Gaara looks so lost, the poor boy. So Kakashi suanders over like "damnit Iruka"

So Iruka whips up a draft to show them, explains what it does, compares it to Naruto's and Gaara's, all the kids are pretty engrossed with what he's saying and Sasuke is writing notes

We're back tracking to the first time team Naru-Sasu-Saku meet Iru

So Iruka's like "ah yes hello I'm Iruka Umino, I'll be your jounin instructor - if you pass my own genin examination. If not, you're all getting sent back to the academy! But I'd like to meet you all first"

So they do the thing they do in canon, where Sakura goes "I like Sasuke" Naruto goes "I'm gonna be the Hokage" and Sasuke does his "I want revenge" bc he's been festering in hate for the last 82 years

But instead of "oh well you're all weird kids" Iruka almost looses his mind and almost sends them all back then and there

Alright, alright, he goes, you're all children, but these things aren't gonna help you become ninja. Naruto, your goal is admirable, good, that's good. Least stupid. Tells me how far you're willing to go.

Sakura, you being in love tells me you can form bonds - which is good for teamwork, but you need to take it back a bit, and bond with your other team mates as well.

And then he turns to Sasuke. Revenge will not help you. You will not gain anything from that. Bad things are always happening and there's never any reason for it. He tells off Sasuke for his bs bc Iruka doesn't have a filter and will fight these kids

And the kids are like Sasuke: offended Sakura: offended Natuto: laughing his ass off

"I'd like to send you all back to the academy for this but! I said I was gonna give you all a chance to be full fledged genin. So! Here's my test!" And makes this weird quiz thing that is sorta like the bell test where the goal is for them to display teamwork 5:59 PM · Dec 3, 2017

#bogs' muttering #the great naruto twitter to tumblr transfer #naruto #kakairu

[b4kuch1n]

#psychonauts #razputin aquato #dion aquato #you cant take the circus out of the circus child! and they didnt! dion shut the fuck up! #(full disclosure I love dion) #(idk if he or frazie is older but I'm going with him as the oldest) #(bc like. he has huge Ive-played-moderation-for-our-parents-my-whole-life-and-now-youve-gone-and-fucked-it-up vibes) #dion is perpetually one small family squabble away from throwing up and breaking down. and thats valid of him #heartfelt and respectful ass kicking from one oldest child to another (me to dion) #anyways listen I think abt the fact that dion taught raz the dive trick a normal amount. its not on my mind 24/7 I swear #they bonded by acrobatics! #I think thats why dion kinda cools down to grumbling when raz does the rope task #you can be psychic and do acrobatics at the same time illegal possibly not real??? - dion aquato on yahoo answer #man. man. these kids #I care them your honor! #alright. alright I oughta stand up and take care of dinner now #we havin hot pot tonite! its uhhh 32 degree celsius outside! #lets see how we fare! #have a good day guys pick up ur younger sibling rn and start swinging em around

[pinkmirth]

—𝐌𝗼𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐁𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐠𝗼𝐮 𝐊𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐢 [𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐰 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞]

《𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐝𝗼𝗺𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝗼𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 + 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐝》

Boxes splayed across the bare, sheen hardwood of your newly owned apartment, some contents of them being haphazardly tossed out onto the floor, courtesy of Katsuki. Speaking of, the eager ash blonde had been taking this whole unpacking thing with a ravaging approach, a little more aggression than enthusiasm being displayed. This disregarding husband of yours had already broken two vases since the moving van hauled in your belongings..

You caught wind of his incoherent murmurs throughout the day, which were practically countless by now. You’d been racking your brain since, attempting to discover what had gotten your poor Katsuki so upset. Despite the marriage that bonded you and him, Katsuki’s profession usually got in the way of many personal things. For a while, it’d been a danger just for the pair of you to live together, so you haven’t been. Until now. It had been three days since you and him moved from the comfort of your hometown, Musutafu, to the renowned capital, Tokyo, and you wished you could say it had been smooth sailing. Unfortunately, a certain Bakugou wasn’t having the best time, always sputtering a profanity or a groan left and right. His case of the grumps was probably a trip of his complex emotions, either caused by a sense of neediness, deprivation of some sort, or bottled rage. You were betting, practically hoping on the first two instead. Knowing your husband, it meant well that he’d get his hands on miscellaneous household items to crush, smash and break, as some way of channeling his anger episodes. Three days down the line, and you already needed to replace a handful.. Though, it was currently dinner time, and you were sure that was a good thing. Katsuki’s little funk would wash away come 6pm. Cooking had a way of melting away the male’s heaps of stress, especially when you offered to join in. Throughout that hour of making food and serving you his prideful dishes, he always carried a subtle smile. Dinner wasn’t something to worry about. “Fuckin’ hell!” Scratch that. Telling by the pestering clatter of the cabinets he was yanking open, to the dastardly echo of his stomps, it seemed that you couldn’t rely on the succor of food for any longer. “I oughta’ set this lousy kitchen on fucking fire!” You let out a hefty sigh, picking yourself up from the spacious beanbag, since you were yet to assemble any couches, before strolling over to the kitchen, awaiting to see the reason behind your husband’s exaggerated shrieking. “Katsu-Chan, what's the issue..?” Your husband immediately bombarded you with a growled rant, “I can’t find my shitty apron!” You eyed Katsuki through furrowed brows. Is all this attitude really about one measly apron? Nah, I doubt it, your inner voice chimed. “And there ain’t any more pepper seasoning, so I haven’t got a clue what I’ll cook now..” he spewed through gritted teeth, recklessly tossing away the poor frying pan that he’d been holding onto all the while, impressive dents imprinted onto the handle, curved into the shape of his fingers. In that case, you had one more household item to replace. Noted.. “I can’t find that damned thing,” he spoke with an exasperated huff, his hands flying up to the cupboards, motioning them open and closed with the slightest violent tendency. “Hate to break it to you, sweet cheeks, but we ain’t eating dinner tonight,” you scoffed over Katsuki’s recurring dramatics, “These past few days have been shitty anyway..” He’d said it throughout a lowly mutter, but it was enough to cause a nervous stream to rush through you. Did he not like it here? Perhaps the city was too busy for Dynamight, maybe he wasn’t immune to getting homesickness as he liked to brag about, or it couldve been that he just wasn’t ready to get used to such a foreign occurrence in your relationship— living together. But, of course, considering your nature to bat things off with a joke of some sort, you contorted your worries into a comical stick to jab at your husband with.

“Darling, if you’re on your man-period, you should’ve just said so..” you’d said it with fabricated pity, all the while holding back your chuckles as his brows began to furrow, upper lip curving vexingly.

“You think you’re so damn funny, dontcha’, woman..?”

“Yeah, just a little bit.”

Another rasped groan left the lips of the ever-impatient Bakugou Katsuki, “Oi. Are ya’ just gonna keep giggling on about my little anger episode forever?”

Hm. For once, he actually acknowledged it for what it is, you thought briefly, before making your way around the glossy, marble-design kitchen island, your hands finding solace on his defined, muscular triceps. 

The thick straps of his black, square neck tank top gradually began to slide past his shoulders, shadowing over his collarbone before you inched it back up.

“Do you.. like it here, Katsuki?” By the moment he answered your answer with an aggressive snort, you realized you had nothing to worry about.

 “Why the hell wouldn't I? We didn’t pay for this house just to hate the place,” he scoffed, his large palms skimming over the small of your back before thick fingers of his wrapped around your waist.

“That’s a relief, but you’ve been acting a little grumpy— Like something’s bothering you. Could you just tell me how you’re feeling?” You finally admitted your questioning thoughts with an expectant look, watching Katsuki return your curiosity with a subtle smirk. “You wanna know what’s bothering me..?” 

“Y’know what, never mind. Don’t wanna hear it, Katsu-Chan.”

Your abrupt response had him knitting his brows and emitting confused huffs. “So you’re just gonna change your mind on me like that?!” You jabbed at his chest with your pointer finger to punctuate your reply, “because you made it sound creepy, that’s why!”

Katsuki then tightened his grip around your waist, earning a breathy gasp out of you. Before you could question the blonde, he already had you hauled up into the kitchen island, standing between your dangling legs with the tip of his nose grazing yours. You couldn’t help but let out a sigh at the comforting warmth of his sizey hands, your arms instinctively flinging around the back of his neck.

“Alright, I’ll tell you the truth, hon,” confessed Katsuki, “The move has been great, but horrible. It all went good, I guess. No missing items, moving trucks arriving in record time, everything we wanted. But there’s one more thing that we wanted that you seemed to forget about, you lil’ idiot..”

Despite the use of an insult, his cheeks and ears began the bloom a subtle but pretty pink, his sharp red eyes averting from your own blinking ones.

“Care to inform me on whatever I forgot..?” You skimmed through my your memory frantically in those few seconds that he’d paused, trying to dig up a pleasing answer before he told you himself.

“Privacy, [Y/N].. We’d have so much, too much once we moved to our own place. And we loved the sound of that. Y‘know why, right..?”

Your heart suddenly leapt within your chest at his indication, his left brow rising suggestively as he briefly cocked his head. You definitely knew why.

“So we could have times like this. Without any damned interruptions. I can suck your face off without one of my shitty friends popping up unexpectedly, ain’t that swell?” His voice held the slightest bit of laughter in it, his tone comical and yearning.

“So.. if I said that I wanna feel you close to me..” you murmured, your breath fanning over his proximate lips, “Like, really really close, it wouldn’t be a problem, yes?” A teasing, lingering peck was what you placed across his cheek, earning a genuine grin from Katsuki as a response.

“Who the hell’s gonna stop you? In fact, I’ve got my own idea,” his lowly voice came out booming nonetheless, but of course, the benefit of privacy made sure that his volume wasn’t a problem.

“I wanna watch you. While you watch me.” He didn’t have to be lewdly exact with his words, the lust-blown gaze in your husband’s vermillion eyes was enough to tell what he wanted. It was simple enough as he’d said; Mutual masturbation, just a few minutes before dinner time would commence.

Albeit the serene atmosphere, you couldn’t hold back your snicker over your realization. Bakugou Katsuki, your impatient lover. The poor guy had been in such a distasteful mood, only because of his unnerving libido..

“You wanna watch me take off my panties, huh?” Your teasing statement came out as a suggestive giggle, your hand placed sturdily at the nape of his neck while the unoccupied one got to work on making his fantasies a reality, tugging at the hem of your leggings hastily.

“You’ve gotta watch me too, y’know,” Katsuki reminded you with a gravelly chuckle, shimmying and pulling his bottoms off as though there were no time to spare.

His half naked form had attracted you in an instant, eyes drawing to his thick cock, semi-hard and already being encased into his moving palm.

“Don't just stare. It works both ways, sweet cheeks. I wanna see some fingers moving’ already,” Puffs of breath were taken between his words, ruby red eyes already lidded with an agape mouth that poured out the most arousing groans.

“Nah, I think I’ll just enjoy the show for now,” you decided matter-of-factly, pressing a sloppy kiss along his defined jawline, causing him to emit another grunt, lowly slapping sounds being heard from his vulgar ministrations.

“You think you’re cute, huh..” hissed Bakugou, trudging his clothes back on with a grunt, to your dismay. “Forget it. Instead of putting on a show for a brat like you, I’m gonna go straight to dinner.”

You accepted the fate that your actions resulted in, ready to slide off the island, just before his stern hands stopped you. He gave you this glance, one that made you eye him in suspicion as he kept his hands on each of your thighs, spreading them apart with a lax grin.

“Katsu— Ah!” By now, the blonde had already dropped to his knees, now face level with your clothed heat. “W-what about dinner..?!”

“Whaddya’ mean?” His tone came out rasped and attractive, a growing smirk reaching his lips as his fingers prodded at the band of your bottoms, “This is my dinner, babe..”

#bnha thirst #mha thirst #bakugou imagines #bnha Imagines #Katsuki Bakugou imagines #Bakugou x reader #Bakugou x female reader #bnha insert #mha insert #Bakugou smut #bnha smut #harmoni writes

[pepperonijem]

Silent Night || Steve Rogers

MASTERLIST

Pairing:  Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: None, just pure Christmas rom-com feels.

Word count: 3.4k

Summary: You need a fake date to bring home for the holidays. Steve is more than willing. (Fake Dating AU)

A/N: Don’t mind me, just overly obsessed with cheesy hallmark Christmas movies and Steven Grant Rogers. It’s my first fic in a very long time, please be nice ok thx bye have a happy holiday!

‘Twas the night before Christmas break, when all through the apartment complex, not a creature was sleeping, not even a mouse; luggage was packed, without so much as a care, in hopes that they would all soon be out of there. All except one, who wished to stay.

“I can’t believe you told your mom you had a boyfriend,” your roommate, Natasha, laughed. “Actually, I can’t believe your mom believes you have a boyfriend.”

You shot a look at her before tossing a pillow in her direction. “I’m just tired of her getting onto me about being a spinster,” you rolled your eyes as you recalled your mom’s pleading voice over the phone.

“So have you met anyone yet?” 

You couldn’t see her but you just knew how her eyebrows were raised in interest. It had become almost a weekly question, and for a second, you considered just hanging up right then, but then an idea came.

“Actually, I have,” you lied. It was only September, and you weren’t going to see your parents until the holidays, and by then, you could come up with a fake break-up story with your imaginary boyfriend. 

“Really?” you heard your mother squeal in excitement and you almost felt bad. Almost. “Tell me all about him, and make sure you bring him home for Christmas, I want to meet him!”

You couldn’t help but crack a sad smile as you fed your mom fake details about your fake relationship. “We met in class and started studying together and one thing led to another, and now we’re dating.” There. The bare minimum, but enough to keep her satisfied.

The impact of the pillow against your face snapped you out of your thoughts. “Weren’t you supposed to break up with your fake boyfriend before break?” She questioned. “What happened to that?”

Plopping down beside her on the couch, you sighed and hugged the pillow to your face. Natasha pulled the pillow away and you gave her a dirty look. “You know my mom,” you began. “I just didn’t want to disappoint her. I thought I would be able to find another excuse as to why he couldn’t make it to Christmas, but she wouldn’t take no for an answer after he missed Thanksgiving.” You turned to give Natasha a pleading look. “What do I do?” you asked.

“Well, I still think you oughta tell her,” Natasha admitted. “Or, you could bring home a fake boyfriend.” 

Immediately, you shot up and gave her a puzzled look. “What do you mean a fake boyfriend?”

“A blow up doll,” she rolled her eyes. “No, obviously you just get someone to pretend to be your boyfriend and then they pretend to break up with you, and you pretend to be sad, and then that’s it. Easy peasy.” Natasha shrugged her shoulders and stood up to pick up her phone from the kitchen counter as if what she suggested was a simple idea. You could hear her furiously typing in the keyboard as she walked away from you.

“Nat, you’ve officially gone bonkers.” However, the longer you thought about it, the more desperate you became. “How would I even find anyone? Everyone’s packing to go home. And on top of that, who would even be willing to pretend to be my boyfriend? They’d have to be really dumb, or really bored to agree.”

“Sure, I’m in.” 

“Excuse me?” you asked incredulously.

“I said I’m in,” he repeated with a shrug of his shoulders.

A few minutes after Natasha suggested her idea, you heard a knock at your door. Natasha gave you a mischievous smirk as she opened the door and welcomed in the boy you’d been crushing on all semester. Steve was best friends with Natasha and her boyfriend and although you had hung out with them a few times, you always found yourself getting nervous around him.  He was never anything but kind to you, always making sure you were included in the conversation and taking time to include you in the inside jokes. 

Of course, Natasha knew about your crush and every so often would try to drop not so subtle hints to Steve. One time, Natasha and Bucky told you and Steve that the plan was to have dinner at 6:30 p.m. but didn’t show up until nearly 8. It was obvious that they were trying to set you up, but Steve never made a move and you didn’t want to be presumptuous, but at least he never made it awkward either. You knew Natasha was reeling inside at how perfectly things were falling into place. 

“But why?” You asked, still unable to process what Steve was agreeing to.

“Oh does it matter?” Natasha asked with an eye roll. “You said you needed a boyfriend, and Steve volunteered. It’s perfect!” She took Steve’s hand and led him to the couch where you were sitting on and pushed him to sit beside you. He offered a sheepish smile and left enough distance between you two to be polite.

“Well,” Steve began, turning to face you. “Bucky’s going over to Nat’s over the holiday, and my folks are out of town, so I was just planning to stay on campus for the break.” Natasha coughed and gave Steve a look that you didn’t quite understand. Steve stuttered before adding, “But Natasha mentioned that you needed a boyfriend -- a fake boyfriend -- and I couldn’t leave you in need.” Steve looked down at his hands and back up at you. There was an unmistakable twinkle in his ocean blue eyes and for a second, you let yourself get lost in the idea of what it would be like to hold his hand in the December cold. Natasha rolled her eyes and filled the spot between the two of you. 

“You two are hopeless.” She sighed, but a small smile still played on her lips. “Anyway, I’ve got it all planned out.” She turned to you first. “Since you never told your parents what your imaginary boyfriend’s name is, and every detail you’ve fed your mom is vague as hell, you can just fill in the blanks with Steve.” 

Standing up, she pointed at Steve. “Okay, Rogers, your job is just to make the parents believe that you are absolutely head over heels for their kid.”

“Easy.” Steve said instantly and you caught him glance in your direction with a smile before turning back to Nat. You felt your cheeks heat up and you sank further back into the couch.

“The important thing is to keep your stories straight, and remember, the most believable lies are based on truth,” Natasha ended. She looked down at her watch. “Alright, Bucky’s waiting down in the lobby, and we need to go so we don’t miss our flight.” She pulled you and Steve in for a hug before heading to the door where her luggage was waiting. “You two have a very happy holiday. See you in the new year!” 

As Steve shut the door behind Natasha, you found yourself feeling the butterflies that were hidden by the adrenaline from earlier. Steve turned to face you and gave you a comforting smile. “Look,” he began. “I just wanna be the best fake date you’ve ever had,” he joked.

“Well, you’re the only fake date I’ve ever had,” you laughed. Steve chuckled and you felt yourself grin. “Thanks, Steve, for doing this. You really don’t have to.” You looked down at your fidgeting fingers as you felt his gaze fall on you.

“I know,” he said softly. “I wanted to.”

The rest of the evening was spent planning. You put on the Charlie Brown Christmas special and ordered a pizza and began discussing every detail. You tried to think like your parents, wanting to have an answer for every single question they could ask. When was Steve’s birthday? What was your first date like? What’s your favorite pizza topping? Where did Steve grow up? It was like you were studying for an exam, except the longer you talked, the more you found yourself getting lost in the stories he told of Brooklyn, of his and Bucky’s teenage shenanigans, and it was all easy. 

Three movies and a box of pepperoni pizza later, the two of you had settled onto the couch, still trying to think of any other possible stories to tell before you quickly drifted off into a tired slumber. The last thing you remember was Steve’s voice and his arm wrapping around you.

When you woke up it was to the sound of your phone ringing. You sat up to find yourself wrapped in a blanket. You scanned around the living room as you recalled the events of last night and found no trace of the empty pizza box and paper plates or the mugs of hot chocolate you and Steve went through last night. Warmth rose to your cheeks when you remembered that you fell asleep on him, and fell into a small panic when you realized it was him calling.

“Hello?” You answered with a yawn.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Steve answered. You could hear the smile in his voice. “Did you sleep well?” he asked.

You smiled into the phone. “Yes, I did. Thank you for cleaning up, you didn’t have to --”

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart, I didn’t mind.” Sweetheart. He called you sweetheart as if it was the most natural thing to do. “Sorry, we never discussed nicknames, but it just came out,” he quickly added. “I just picked up some coffee, and I’ll be there in 15 to help you pack or anything before we go.”

“Alright, I’ll see you in a bit,” you hung up. You got yourself ready and answered the door for Steve. He handed you your coffee, two sugars, no cream, just the way you like it and you smiled as the scent of strong coffee hit your nose. Once you had everything packed, Steve grabbed your bag and the two of you made your way to his car and drove to your hometown. The drive was a few hours long, but Steve had a solid playlist full of karaoke songs that you loved, and the drive felt like it was not long enough.

The wreath on your parents’ door filled you with a sense of nostalgia. Or maybe it was nervousness? Butterflies? Whatever it was, the feeling settled heavily in your stomach as you rang the bell. You looked up at Steve, whose scarf was bundled tight around his neck, and his nose red from the cold, and he gave you an encouraging smile. “You ready?” he asked. 

Before you could answer, the door swung open and you and Steve were enveloped in a tight embrace as your mother squealed in happiness. The holidays had begun, and there was no backing out now.

The first few days of the trip had gone by without a hitch, much to you and Steve’s surprise. Your parents did their best to embarrass you with silly stories about your childhood, and while at first you were filled with dread, the lopsided smile he gave you after finding out you once dressed as a McDonald’s Happy Meal box for Halloween made it worth it. Your dad asked the hard questions, asking what Steve’s plans for the future with you looked like and you found your hands fidgeting under the table before Steve’s hand found yours with a squeeze and told your dad that he couldn’t see a future without you in it and you began to picture what that would look like.

Everything was easy with Steve, in a way that it never was. You’d wake up in the morning and head downstairs to find him already awake and laughing with your mom and dad with a coffee waiting for you. After dinner you knew you’d find him sitting by the fire with a book in his hands. As you walked around town you’d spot things in the windows, little tchotchkes that made you think of him. Steve was growing roots in your family and it was as if he was meant to be there, another picture in the family scrapbook, another stocking hung on the fireplace.

Sweetheart became more common. And soon, so did darling and honey. They began to bleed into the quiet moments when you were alone, where you weren’t supposed to be pretending anymore. The soft smiles, the way his hand reached for yours without a single glance, the warmth of his arms wrapped around you. All of a sudden it didn’t feel like you were playing pretend anymore and you wondered if he noticed it too.

It was when you realized how easy it was to be with him that you realized how hard it would be to let him go. The thought of an inevitable end to your not-so-fake-anymore relationship weighed upon you like a blanket of snow, cold enough to snap you out of your fantasy. You were sitting by the tree with Steve the night of Christmas Eve, wrapping some last minute gifts for your family when you felt it.

The end was coming.

Steve must have felt it too, or felt something was off, because he reached for your hand almost instinctively. You hesitated before slipping your hand in his and when you looked up, you met his eyes. Just over a week ago, his eyes were just blue. But now, you realized, there was a storminess hiding in the blues of his eyes, like there was lightning behind his irises, but an ever-present stillness to them too. In this moment, there was concern mixed into the grays and blues, and your stomach lurched in a desire to forget your realization, to relax back into the rhythm and rightness of pretend, but Steve deserved more than a fake relationship and you owed it to him.

“Sweetheart,” he began. “What’s wrong?” The plea in his voice made it obvious that he suspected what was wrong. He was only asking to give you a chance to tell him that his suspicions were wrong. A last chance to abort and keep the charade going.

Pulling your hand out of his was the hardest thing you’ve had to do, and the instant chill on your skin where his calloused hand was touching was impossible to ignore. “This,” you muttered, unable to meet his eyes. “Steve, we can’t keep pretending like this, not when I have real feelings for you.” You finally looked up at him and kept going. You wouldn’t be able to finish if he interrupted, and you needed to be heard. “I can’t tie you down to a fake relationship, when you deserve to be with someone you actually are in love with. You’re an amazing friend for even agreeing to do this, but I don’t want to force you to be part of a mess that I put myself into.” You stood up, and finally added, “You can go home tonight. I’ll tell my parents the truth in the morning, you don’t have to worry about it.” 

“Hold on, I--” you interrupted him with a final, lingering kiss, hoping that the memory of it would be enough for you. You felt the hesitation in his fingers as he reached up to cup your face, trying to keep you where you were, before you pulled away.

Without looking back, you turned around and walked up the stairs, trying to convince the tremble in your fingers and the pounding in your heart that you made the right choice.

The next morning you woke up and for a few seconds, you laid in peace until the regrets of last night flooded over you. You dragged yourself up off your bed, trying to cheer yourself up by remembering that it was Christmas. Part of you hoped that you would see him downstairs, talking to your mom about her favorite cookie recipe, but when you walked into the kitchen and found your mom by herself, you knew he was really gone.

“Hey honey,” your mom exclaimed, wrapping you in a tight hug that suggested she knew something was wrong. “Merry Christmas” she said into your hair. After a moment, she finally let go and the tears that were threatening to spill over finally gave way and your mom reached out to brush them away. She pulled you back into her arms, and once you managed to steady your breathing, the two of you sat down.

“I heard you and Steve talking last night,” she admitted. You let out a strangled sob and your mom reached out to rub your back. “Honey, you could have just told me the truth. I love you, and you don’t need a relationship to validate that.” She gave you a small smile. “But when I saw the way you looked at each other, well I have to admit, it was nice to know someone would be here to keep loving you long after I’m gone.”

You set your head down against the table. “Well too bad Steve was only pretending to love me,” you sighed. “He deserves to love someone for real. I couldn’t hold him back from that. It was unfair.”

“Pretending?” She asked incredulously. “Sweetie, listen to me. That sweet boy was head over heels for you, and anyone could see it. The way he looked at you everytime you laughed, and every time he walked in a room and he always looked for you first, no one could fake being as in love as he clearly is with you.”

Finally lifting your head up, you wiped your tears with your sleeve. Maybe those moments you thought you were imagining were really there. Maybe he wasn’t pretending. Maybe you were an idiot for walking away from you last night. You stood up, ready to find him and apologize. 

Feeling a rush of frenzy and determination, you ran upstairs to grab your keys and your coat, ready to ask your mom to drive you back to school so you can find him. Your heart was pounding in your ears and as you turned the knob to open your front door, you found yourself staring into a pair of stormy blue eyes.

“Steve?” your voice came out in a whisper. His hand was frozen mid-air, about to press the doorbell.

He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Sorry, were you heading out?” he asked.

You snapped yourself out of the trance you were lost in. “Uh Y-yeah, I was on my way to see you, actually,” you admitted. You stepped out of the doorway to let him in and you both stood in the kitchen. He set the bag he was holding on the counter and he opened the box.

“Donut? The only donut shop open was like 30 minutes away,” he offered, smiling as if you didn’t just try to break his heart last night. He handed you one, a chocolate with sprinkles, your favorite, before pulling out one for himself and taking a bite. He motioned for you to sit with him and you followed. “Listen, I--”

“Steve, I’m --” you both started at the same time. “You go first,” you allowed.

He nodded before continuing. “I know last night, you asked me to leave, but I couldn’t. At least not without telling you how I feel. You told me that you had real feelings for me, and I do too. Hell, I’ve had real feelings for you. Long before these last two weeks. When Nat texted me that night, I knew I finally had the perfect opportunity to tell you how I felt, but when we got here, everything just felt so… so real, and I let myself forget that it wasn’t. At least not yet. No matter how much I wanted it to be.”

You set down your donut, suddenly feeling that hunger was the least important thing you were feeling at this moment. Not wanting to interrupt, you simply nodded as he continued.

“I should’ve told you a long time ago, that I really, really, really, like you. None of this has been pretend for me.” He looked into your eyes, pleading, as he tentatively reached for your hand. “I want to do this the right way, no games, no schemes, just you and me. The real thing.”

The storm in his eyes seemed to make way for light, and the bright blues that disappeared behind his eyelids were the last thing you noticed before you felt your lips fall onto his. His hand reached up and you felt the pad of his thumb brush against your cheek. Gently, as though any more pressure and you would crumble like snow. You pulled away with a sigh, Steve’s lips chasing after yours.

“Merry Christmas,” you breathed out.

“Merry Christmas.”

#Steve Rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers fic #steve rogers smut #steve rogers angst #captain america imagine #captain america x reader #captain america fluff #captain america fic #captain america #captain america smut #captain america angst #steve rogers imagine #Chris Evans #chris evans fic #chris evans fluff #chris evans x reader #chris evans smut #chris evans angst #reader insert #chris evans imagine #christmas fic #I know I should justpost this in the morning but I am absolutely impatient

[thiswasinevitableid]

Hey, my 20 year old cat is getting kind sick with his age. Could you maybe write a little something about Duck and his cat to cheer me up? I adore your writing

Of course!

Which means we interrupt our current schedule of superhero AUs to bring you: KITTY!

Duck’s been in the apartment a little over a year. As childish as it may sound, he takes pride in the fact it’s a place he can afford to pay for himself, and that he gets to furnish and decorate in whatever way he chooses (minus things that would lose him his deposit). 

There’s still something missing, however, and that something is why he’s currently standing in the cat room of the Kepler animal shelter.

“Anyone catchin your eye, hon?” The volunteer asks a she gathers stray, jingling toys from the floor. 

“Just kinda gettin a feel for all of ‘em.” He scritches a white and black kitten through the slats in the cage, gives the white fluffy one that hisses at him a wide berth (he doesn’t take it personally). 

When he gets to the cage at the end of one wall, he finds a medium sized, scruddy tabby cat watching him carefully. Her left ear is missing a chunk, and she has the bearing of someone who can’t figure out why existence is a thing she has to deal with.

But when Duck steps closer, she stands, stretching like a black cat halloween decoration, and bumps her head into the bars. He does his best to pet her through them, and when he stops she levels him with a glare. 

“Mrow.” 

Duck had been expecting a charming “mew” not a deep, twenty-year smoker rasp, and doubles over with a surprised laugh. 

“I see you’ve met Winnifred.” The volunteer smiles at him, “she’s quite the little warrior. She was part of a feral litter that was found without a mother last year. They were found because someones dog saw them, started investigating, and Winnifred launched herself at him. His owner was more than a little amused to find his dog running back with his tail between his legs and a cat latched on his muzzle”

“That why she’s missin part of her ear?”

“Yep. Rest of the litter got adopted easily, as kittens do, but she never seemed to find the right person.”

Duck hunches down, finds yellow eyes watching him and gets an emphatic “mrow” when he scratches her behind her wounded ear.

“Hey there, Winnie. How do you feel about comin home with me?”

---------------------------------------------------------

“Okay, gonna put your bed right here, that way you won’t get too nervous at night by bein too far away from me, got you this real fluffy blanket too, aw, hey, it’s okay, no need to be scared by a blank-”

“DUCK NEWTON!”

“JEsus Minerva, you just scared her under the bed.”

“Who is this her of which you speak?”

“Mrow?”

“Ah, you have acquired an animal companion. She appears to have the makings of a mighty huntress.”

“Yeah, sure, now do you mind? I’m tryin to get her settled in.”

“Apologies Duck Newton, I was merely checking to see if you’d given more thought to-”

“No.”

“Very well. I shall leave you to your furry companion. Perhaps she can convince you of the importance of destiny.”

Minerva disappears, and Winnie blinks at Duck.

“Mrow.”

“Yeah, that’s about how I feel.”

--------------------------------------------------------

It’s the first serious raise he’s gotten since joining the forestry service. Bills are all paid, food and everything else is budgeted for the month with cash to spare. 

So he’s currently got his computer and LAN cable out to do some very important shopping. 

“What do you think? Three story cat condo?”

Winnie hops up on the table, chasing his hand as he moves it on the trackpad.

“You could use some new catnip toys too. Heh, these ones are shaped like little ducks. Hmmm, no these mice ones are bigger, better bargain. Two packs enough?”

“Mrow.” A sandpapery tongue licks his hand.

“You’re right, I’ll get four just to be safe.”

---------------------------------------------------

“I dunno Juno, things have just gone kinda south with him lately but, I just-”

“Duck, you know I feel about him.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, I oughta dump him. But I can’t help feelin, I dunno, like I ain’t givin him a chance.”

“....this is gonna sound weird, but how does Winnie get along with him?”

“She don’t, really. She was okay with him at first, kinda shy like she gets sometimes. Now if he’s over she won’t come anywhere near us.”

“Do I really gotta say that ain’t like her? That cat’d play with a bear if she thought that’d get you to pay attention to her.”

“Shit, you’re right. Okay, I’ll call him now and tell him it’s over.”

----------------------------------------------------------

“I gotta ask” Leo sips his beer as the two of them sit at the kitchen table, “you had any problems with mice this spring? I keep havin to set traps in my cabinet.”

“Nope, ain’t had any issues.”

“Mrow.”

“Hey there kitty-cat, how’s it--uh, think I know why you ain’t had any mice.”

“Huh? Aw, jeez, Winnie, don’t drop that on the table! At least you didn’t leave it in my shoe or somethin. Thanks for keepin our groceries safe.”

“Mrow.” Winnie trots off, head held high.

------------------------------------------------

“Well Winnie, that’s that. Your human’s just a regular dipshit now.”

The orange loaf on his chest purrs soothingly as he pets her, focusing on her fur as he lays on his bed in the darkened bedroom.

“Guess I oughta write out a plan or somethin, in case you outlive me. How you feel about livin with Leo, wait, shit, he’s lost his too. Hmm, maybe it oughta be Juno.”

Prickly, padded paws knead at his chest as the purring continues.

“Takin that as a sign you like that plan. Then again….wonder if Indrid would want company. If he ever comes back, I mean. Juno’s got kids, and you’re gettin up in years and don’t much like bein mandhandled. Plus, that trailer’s real fuckin warm. You’d never get chilly. And maybe you’d force him to clean up all those mugs of stale nog”

“Mrowrrrrrr.”

“Don’t gimme that look, the guy’s just a friend, and I feel kinda bad that he’s alone.”

-------------------------------------------

Duck clicks the heater up a few more notches as Indrid slips off his Uggs. The Sylph came back in late February, and has finally allowed Duck the chance to buy him dinner as an apology for the punching. 

“Really, you don’t need to go to any trouble, I’ve dealt with worse, oh, hello there.” He chirps delightedly when Winnie bumps against his shin. She follows him to the couch as Duck searches for his wallet, which has chosen now of all times to stray from it’s normal spot on his nightstand.

“Care to join me, tiny predator?”

“She’s havin trouble gettin up on the couch lately.”

“May I lift her?”

“Uh, sure. She’ll let you know if she ain’t in the mood.”

“Alright, come along fuzzy one, ah, there we go. My, you are a dignified, silver-haired grande dame aren’t you.” 

Duck glances up to find Indrid cuddling Winnie, cooing over her as he pets her forehead. The Sylph is right; the once cheddar colored fur on her head is almost entirely gray.

By the time he finds his wallet (in a random boot), Winnie is sound asleep in Indrid’s lap. 

“We cannot leave. I have been chosen.”

Duck laughs, and goes to start some popcorn. No reason they can’t have dinner and movie at home, after all.

---------------------------------------

Duck is exhausted; the apartment is at capacity, the FBI is nosing around town, and he’s been training daily to prepare for the next abomination. 

So he’s more than a little annoyed when a familiar paw bats his nose, waking him up.

“Not even close to breakfast time.”

“Mrow.”

“Get.”

“MROW.” She hops off the bed, meowing louder and louder until he gets up, at which point she scurries into the living room. He follows, intending to bundle her into her bed so she can’t escape until morning. 

But she’s not near her food bowl. She’s on the couch. Or, more accurately, on Indrid, who is curled up on the couch, frightened. 

“‘Drid?”

“It’s all going to end.”

“Bad futures?”

“That’s putting it exceedingly mildly. I wish I could sleep, I’m so very tired.” He pets Winnie, manages a weak smile when she kneads at his thick sweater.  

“Could read to you from one of my tree guides. Might knock you out.”

“...Yes, that actually might work. Thank you, Duck.”

“You’re welcome, be right back with that book. Winnie, you’re in charge until then.”

-----------------------------------------------------

“I have one final thing to move in. Ta dah!” Indrid presents a flat, rectangular basket, filled with thick, fluffy pillow. It’s late November, and while the world was saved, Indrid’s Winnebago got crushed by a Quell monster during the battle. Not that Duck’s complaining about an excuse to move his boyfriend in.

“Great, what it is?”

“It’s a special catbed. I know Winnie is on the upper limit of her years, and that the cold is rough on her joints. I found an old electric blanket in the Winnebago and stuck it under the pillow, so she can have extra warmth without leaving her favorite spot.”

“Thanks, darlin. Sure she’ll love it.” He kisses Indrid’s cheek.

“It’s the least I could do. After all, she was here first.” Indrid kisses his nose, pats Winnie on the head as she pads, slowly, over to investigate the offering. Duck sets it down in her corner, plugging in the blanket. She sniffs it, then settles into her favorite shape, the one Aubrey calls “catloaf.”

“Well, old girl, what do you think? This all gonna be okay?”

Winnie bumps her head against his hand, “Mrow.”

“Yeah, I think so too.” 

#duck newton #reader requests #indruck

[jadekitty777]

Forget-Me-Not

Alright, and for my final entry for the Shipwreckedfanzine (Read it here!), is my Taiqrow entry. Because you better believe I gave my boys some love.

(P.S. This showed up nowhere in the tags - I actually posted up a new Taiqrow fic yesterday as well - I would suggest checking out some of my newest works on Ao3!)

Rating: K

Pairing: Qrow/Taiyang

Word Count: 2.1k

Ao3 Link: Forget-Me-Not

Summary:  Tai’s not surprised to discover Qrow’s forgotten their anniversary… again.

❀~❀~❀~❀~❀~❀~❀

Tai hummed a jolly little tune as he shook the can of whipped cream, doing his best to keep his hand steady as he pointed the nozzle down and drew a heart shape on top of the stack of pancakes. Once he’d completed the point, he set the can aside and picked up the bowl of strawberry sauce, filling the inside of the heart generously. Next came the chocolate chips – he was just placing the first few down when his twelve-year-old warned:

“Dad, Uncle Qrow’s coming!”

He nodded, trying not to hurry too much and ruin all his hard work. “Thank you, Yang.  Would you girls get him seated please?”

“I got it!” Ruby shouted a mite too shrilly for this time of the morning.

In the corner of his eye, he watched her grab the butter knife and napkin before going to stand at the threshold. She quickly laid the napkin out along her arm to mimic a towel only the poshest of restaurant waiters had and rose the knife under her nose, clearing her throat a few times. As her uncle made it to the door, she said as classily as possible, “Mr. Branwen, we’ve been expecting you.”

“Is that so?” Qrow’s voice was still a bit gravelly from sleep but it didn’t quite hide his confused amusement.

“Indeed. We have a special reserved spot just for you.” She twirled on her heels. “Follow me please!” She marched with purpose the three single steps it took to get to his chair, having to lower her fake mustache so she could pull it out for him.

He sat, eyeing the mug already there. “Wow, coffee’s already made? Now that’s some express service.”

“Sir, we only provide the best for our customers.” Ruby told him, knife mustache back in place. “Your meal is also on the way, made by our finest chef in the business.”

More like the only chef, Tai thought as he placed the finishing touches on the arrow he’d been designing. He surveyed his work with an appraising eye, before lifting the plate and carrying it over with care. “Your meal, sir.” He told him grandly, placing it down before him.

Qrow took one look at it, then his head shot up, eyes wide. “What occasion is it?”

He smiled as forgivingly as he could. “Anniversary.” Their third, in fact – which Qrow had systematically forgotten each year. Having grown up on the outskirts of nowhere, he’d always been terrible with dates. Before his husband could speak, the guilty look already telling him exactly what he was going to say, Tai placed two fingers on his lips. “No apologies. Just enjoy.”

He heaved a sigh through his nose, before kissing his fingertips and murmuring against them, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He replied, all too happy to trade his hand in for his lips – much to his daughters’ very verbal noises of disgust.

“Dad, please. I’d like to finish my breakfast.” Yang’s nose was wrinkled up like a little piglet’s.

Tai couldn’t help but pinch it as he walked on by. “I’m sure you’ll survive.”

She stuck her tongue out at him, before turning her attention to the other adult in the room, looking almost gleefully predatory. “Soooo, Uncle Qrow.”

“Yeah firecracker?” Qrow had his cutlery poised in the air, uncertain on where to start.

“If you want to make it up to dad, I know the perfect gift you can get him.”

As he placed the dirty mixing bowl in the sink, Tai snorted softly. Oh, this oughta be good.

“Yeah?” His husband arched a skeptic eyebrow. “What’s that?”

She cleared her throat and straightened up her shoulders like a businesswoman about to give a rousing proposal. “Well, I heard, and this is just you know from the people in the know, you know? But I heard the Battle Expansion pack for Grimm Raider’s 2 hit the shelves this week.”

“Uh-huh.” Qrow was trying to keep a straight face. “And Tai would want that?”

“Yes!” Ruby jumped in with certainty. “Because what better gift for a dad than the joy on his children’s faces?”

In perfect sync, both girls placed their fingers on the ends of their mouths and pulled them upwards into big smiles.

Tai was full-blown laughing now. Little weasels!

“Been planning that one awhile now, haven’t you?” Qrow said, not fooled in the slightest.

Yang gasped in mock-offense, placing her hand to her chest. “Uncle are you accusing me of taking advantage of your forgetfulness for my own gain? Can you believe this Ruby?”

“But, didn’t we plan it?” She stage-whispered.

“Sssh, he’s not supposed to know that!”

Before this clown show could go on any further, Tai decided to interject, “Alright, alright, that’s enough you two.” He dropped the rest of the dishes in to be soaked before rounding back to the table. “You know what would bring me great joy today? You two finishing your breakfast and getting ready for school.” He reached out to messily ruffle their hair, enjoying their cries of annoyance and futile swats. “And anyways, you uncle gives me the greatest gift every day.”

“What’s that?” Ruby asked.

Tai met rusty red eyes across the table. “His love.”

Qrow flushed a rosy pink, looking away with a smile. It was adorable, the way simple little things like that could still make him so bashful.

Yang looked between them. “Well, you could have that and the battle expansion pack.”

“Nice try.”

The rest of breakfast went without preamble, Tai shooing the girls off to get ready while he took care of the dishes. It really could have been just like any other morning. The fact it wasn’t supposed to be lingered like a thorn in the back of his head that he did his best to ignore.

Another plate was placed on the counter, and he reached for it without thought, only to have his hand caught by a paler one. Fingers threaded through his own as Qrow’s arm came around his waist, his body melding against his side.

“Dinner? My treat?” He offered, gentle like the mouse that tried to pull the thorn from the lion’s paw.

Tai pressed their foreheads together, murmuring, “I’d like that.”

❀~❀~❀~❀~❀~❀~❀

Signal’s campus was pretty barren so early in the morning. While the faculty members were slowly making their way to their classrooms to get ready for the day, the halls wouldn’t be filled with the bustle and yells of the students for another half hour or so. Qrow had come to appreciate the quiet and calm, because he knew once the bell rang, it would be eight solid hours of chaos.

As they headed through the front doors, Yang sped ahead, waving as she did. “I’m heading to the training gym! Bye!”

“Ah, Yang-” Tai started to object, but she was already cutting around the corner. “Annnd there she goes.” His attention turned downward when his other daughter yanked at his wrist. “Yes Ruby?”

“Can I go to the library today?” She asked hopefully.

“You don’t want to help your old man set up?”

Qrow casually stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Ah, let her go. Kiddo’s got a big brain that needs feeding, ain’t that right?” He winked her way, making her giggle.

“Alright, go on then.” Tai nudged her forward. “And stay in the kids’ section, okay?”

“I will!” Ruby promised before scurrying off.

They headed in the opposite direction, towards their classrooms. Qrow side-eyed the man he’d had the pleasure of calling his husband for three years now. “So, where do you want to go tonight?”

“You even have to ask?” Tai teased.

“Well, maybe you were feeling creative for once.” He jabbed back, dodging away when the other tried to push him.

“Don’t make it sound like you don’t love Sarubia’s.”

Of course he did. While they’d both settled readily in Patch’s more remote, country-like society, and there was much Qrow especially hadn’t minded leaving behind, there were still occasions in which they missed Anima. So, Sarubia’s more eastern inspired menu was like a little taste of home for both of them.

“Guess I can’t argue.” He shrugged, their pace slowing as they approached Tai’s classroom. His heart rate started to pick up. “You know, it’s funny.  I was thinking about Anima just the other day.”

“Oh?” Tai’s keys jangled as he tried to unlock the door.

He rocked on his heels. “Yeah. I was thinking how nice it would be to bring a piece of it back home.”

“Heh, like what?” The door opened and Tai flipped on the lights. He took one step inside.

Then froze.

He swallowed down his nerves. “Perhaps, maybe, some Firelight Sunflowers?”

In the space between Tai’s body and where his arm was extended, hand not having left the doorknob yet, Qrow was proud to see the three sunflower saplings hadn’t wilted entirely overnight. Despite their droopiness, they were still thriving enough to see the curling, yellow petal tips that transitioned into a vibrant display of red that took up the majority of the bloom and gave them their name.

“Oh, Qrow.” Tai breathed. “You…” He trailed off, too overcome to find the words.

A relieved sigh left him as the tension Qrow’d felt the entire morning leading up to this moment flowed off of himself all at once. Between the knowledge that pretending to forget yet again could go horrendously wrong and the uncertainty whether the gift was even meaningful enough to warrant it, he’d barely been able to hold it together. Saying nothing of the weeks he’d spent nurturing the plants in secrecy or the bribery he had to give his nieces to ensure they’d be alone this morning.

Yet, any doubts he may have had were washed away by his husband’s response. The way Tai said his name was with such love, that Qrow felt it in his own heart and it burst back out of him in soft words: “Happy anniversary, sunshine.”

He finally moved, turning to face him. “I-I can’t believe - How did you find them?”

“That last mission I went on took me through lower Anima. I uh, may have detoured a bit.”

It hadn’t been any small challenge to find the specific species. They were an extremely rare variety which only grew in the southern meadows of Anima. He’d never actually seen them before, as the tribe never migrated that far down, but he knew they could be found only miles away from a little, obscure settlement known as Shén-Guāng. The community there was founded on extremely strict and religious practices, whose citizens’ bowed to the teachings of the God of Light and gripped so tightly onto every inch of its populace’s way of life, that even just hearing about it left Qrow feeling stir crazy.

The only reason he even knew of the little town at all was because when Tai was feeling particularly nostalgic, he’d sometimes share outlandish tales about his childhood. The one he never quite forgot was the story he’d told him during their second year at Beacon.

(“For my last test, Master Jinsei put a blindfold around my eyes. His semblance was the ability to tie an undoable knot – so there was no getting it off. He told me to use all the skills I had learned to go out and bring back a Firelight Sunflower.”

“A flower? You’re kidding right?”

“Don’t make it sound so easy. It was December. They weren’t even in bloom yet.”

“Oh, come off it. Now you really are making things up.”

“I’m not! The lesson isn’t just to find a flower blind. It’s about staying aware of your surroundings. Listening to the wildlife that will tell you of predators and Grimm. Having patience and fortitude through the winter. Most people give up a few days in.”

“So why didn’t you?”

“Because only those who pass that test are allowed to leave the village. You know, they say sunflowers mean all sorts of things. Like happiness or loyalty. But to me, I’ve always seen them as a symbol of freedom. So, when I finally brought one back, that’s what I felt I held in my hand.”

“… Yeah. Okay. I get that. Still, why put yourself through all that? Why not just go out on your own?”

“Hah! Maybe I would have, if I knew someone like you back then.”

“Well, you know me now. Was it worth it?”

Tai’s smile-)

-was bright and warm, and left Qrow’s knees feeling weak. His hand was calloused from training and work in the garden, yet the touch remained tender as it cupped his cheek. As they lent in towards one another, Tai whispered against his lips, “I love you.”

“Me too.” He whispered back.

Their eyes slipped shut as they kissed, and as an arm encircled his waist, Qrow rose his own to wind around Tai’s shoulders, one hand leafing through the short blond hairs along the back of his head. For a moment, that’s all they were: A soft and gentle caress of lips contrasting the strength in the way they held each other, neither ever intending to let go.

Even when they pulled back, they didn’t fully loosen their grip. Tai dropped a smaller, affectionate peck on the tip of his nose. “Thank you.”

“Glad you like them.” He peered over his husband’s shoulder, seeing a petal falling onto the desk. “Though, sorry they look kinda pathetic. Don’t exactly have your green thumb.”

With unshakeable certainty, he replied, “No. They’re perfect. Like you.”

“Uh.” Qrow spared the dying flowers a judgmental eye. “You know, you’re not usually this bad at compliments.”

“Ut-! Haha, sorry, sorry. Not what I meant!” He could feel the rumble of Tai’s laughter where their chests still touched. “It’s just, do you know what love and flowers have in common?”

“…Lovers’ Day?”

Tai shook his head. “They both regrow.” He reached up, cupping his hand around the one Qrow had rested on his collar, brushing a thumb over his wedding ring. “And though it takes a lot of work, with the right nurturing and care, eventually something strong and beautiful will blossom.”

Shock left his eyes widening and his jaw slackening.

When he’d chosen to plant three of the sunflowers, it was only because it was the same number of years as their anniversary. Now though, the other third he was in Tai’s life danced briefly through his head. On his worst days, the ones where he felt his most insecure, it was a fact that tormented him like a plague left to fester in his mind and was only treatable with a heavy dose of reassurance and comfort from his husband. But today, Tai’s words acted like a vaccine, abolishing the thoughts before they even could be.

Instead, Qrow was content and so light, he swore he could fly without wings. But more than that, he felt like he was falling in love all over again.

He buried his face into Tai’s neck, hiding the smile that he just knew was ridiculously large and goofy. “You know what? You’re right. But I’ll do you one better. We’re perfect.”

Tai’s fingers threaded through his own. “Yeah. We really are.”

#taiyang xiao long #qrow branwen #Taiqrow #ruby rose #yang xiao long #rwby #fanfiction #Chase Firekitten's Tale

[nev3rfound]

bit of fun : b.b

brief summary: you and bucky being friends with benefits in the 40′s 

requested by: @sebbybarrnes word count: 3.1k (a lot longer than I intended, but I had so many ideas I wanted to use)  warnings: implied smut and a lotta fluff

* requests are open if you have any ideas, feel free to drop ‘em in my inbox or message me. *

Leaning against my locker Rosie rolls her eyes, “Watch out, Barnes is on the loose.” She grumbles as I turn my head, seeing his bright blue eyes shining in our direction as he walks on over, resting his arm around my shoulder.

“Ladies, how’re you doin’ today?” His accent always gets stronger when he’s trying to wind them up, only making me laugh under my breath much to their annoyance. 

Rosie pushes herself away, linking her arm with Madeline as they leave us to it. “Good luck, Y/n.” Rosie pats my arm lightly before the two of them head down the corridor, leaving Bucky to quickly turn, replacing replace their spot in front of me. 

“For some reason, I still don’t think I’m their biggest fan.” He mutters under his breath before frowning at me. “I’m tryin’ to be a nice guy, what can’t they see?” He jokingly questions as I nudge him lightly, moving him off of my locker as I open it to grab my geometry textbook. 

“I can’t tell you, Buck.” I mumble as I tilt my head back, seeing a smile playing on his lips. “What are you planning Barnes? I know that smile all too well.” Raising my eyebrow I wait for the response, but instead, he leans down to kiss my cheek before heading down the corridor. 

“I’ll drive you home, doll. Meet me at 3 on the dot!” He yells as he disappears amongst students, leaving me shaking my head and smiling into my textbooks at my bizarre best friend. 

*

Rolling off of him I pant lightly as I glance over, seeing him smiling as he sits upright, brushing his hair out of his face as sweat clings to his forehead. “Record timing.” He announces with a smile on his face and I roll my eyes.

“Buck, this isn’t something you wanna be fast at, trust me.” I pat his shoulder as climb out of bed, picking up my clothes before slipping them back on. “Come on, get dressed before my Dad gets in.” Throwing his trousers at his face he chuckles to himself whilst he remains perfectly still. 

“I’m quite comfy, doll. Admiring the view before me thank you very much.” His smile grows to a smirk as he pushes the covers from his chest, revealing his apparent abs before eyeing me carefully. 

Turning my head I groan loudly before walking out of my room, heading down the stairs to make a start on the dinner before Dad arrives. “You better hurry, I have things to do Barnes!” I yell from the bottom of the stairs as I brush my hair back up, take a deep breath and compose myself accordingly as I walk into the kitchen. 

Humming quietly to myself I don’t even notice the pair of arms slinking around my waist as I cut the vegetables. “Mmh, whatcha cooking?” He whispers against my neck, kissing it softly causing me to squirm under his touch. 

“Bucky stop,” I giggle as I nudge him off of me. “and I’m making soup, Dads been on the docks all day, oughta warm him up.” I add the last of the vegetables to the pan before stirring them around, the steam rising into my face making me smile at the smell. 

Behind me I can hear Bucky pull out a chair from the table, sitting down and picking up the newspaper. “Can you ever imagine this being us?” He asks nonchalantly and I turn around, leaning against the counter as he holds the paper open, his eyes peeping above it. “Me getting home from work and you cookin’ dinner. We’d put the radio on, dance a little before heading upstairs in hope of making our parents some grandchildren.” He rises to his feet before walking closer, taking my hands in his as I laugh lightly. 

“Bucky you’re such an idiot sometimes.” I tell him, but he simply shrugs it off as he reaches over, turning the radio on. 

“I might be, but I’m also your best friend which means you have to dance with me.” He states as he pulls me closer into him until my hands are resting on his shoulders whilst his relax on my waist. 

As we sway I can’t help but shake my head at how stupid this all is, but Bucky seems happy enough. “Do you have any idea how many girls would kill to be in my position right now?” 

He smiles down at me before twirling me around, “I don’t care, because they aren’t you, Y/n.” His words run deeper than a brushed off comment and as I glance up he licks his lips. “I-”

“My god what a day!” My Dad yells as Bucky slips his arms off of mine and I turn back to the stove, a blush rising to my cheeks as he walks in, moaning about the docks. “-and they had the audacity to blame me I just, oh, hello James.” 

I turn back around, smiling as Bucky rises to his feet, shaking my Dad’s hand as always. “Good evening, Mr Y/L/N, sorry you had a lousy day.” 

Pulling a face my Dad walks over, kissing me on the cheek before sniffing the pot on the stove. “Smells delicious sweetheart.” He comments before sitting down beside Bucky, engaging in their usual conversations. “Will you be staying for dinner, James?” 

“If you’ll allow me to Sir, I’d love to.” Glancing over my shoulder I see Bucky smiling up at me. 

“Why’d you have to be my girls best friend, James? Couldn’t you both stretch to being a couple?” My Dad sighs before rising to his feet, excusing himself as he walks up the stairs, leaving me stirring the pot and Bucky’s eyes burning in the back of my head. 

“I wonder if he’ll ever stop asking.” I laugh lightheartedly, but Bucky doesn’t join in. “Buck?” Looking over my shoulder he is focusing on me, staring into my eyes. “You in there Barnes?” Waving my hand in front of his face he snaps out of it before rising to his feet.

“I should erm, probably get goin’. Moms going to worry if I’m not back soon but thank your Dad for having me.” He quickly grabs his jacket before heading to the front door. “I’ll see you in school.” 

Before I can say anything else the front door closes and I’m left in the kitchen, rendered speechless. 

*

“And he just left?” Rosie asks as I nod. 

“It’s so unlike him, never has he just left without a reason.” Lifting my books higher I sigh as I see Rosie glance over to Madeline. “What?” I question as Madeline huffs.

“I know you guys are best friends, but maybe he’s met someone?” She suggests and I slow down, shaking my head.

“I would know if he’d met someone,” My words trail off as I begin to ponder, would I know? I mean, I’ve known Bucky since we were Four, but relationships were always a grey area between us. “No, maybe you’re right.” I nod to myself, agreeing with my friends as we walk over to Rosie’s locker.

“Are you alright? I mean, you didn’t fight or anything?” Madeline asks quietly as Rosie empties her bag into her locker and I glance past her shoulder, seeing Bucky walking in our direction.

Smiling I lift my hand up to wave, but he walks straight past, not saying anything. I lower my hand and my eyes focus on the floor. “I don’t know,” I mumble. “maybe he has met someone after all.” 

“Is that such a bad thing?” Rosie closes her locker and I lift my head back up. “Come on, we both know you two act like a couple, but maybe you need someone for real.” 

I cross my arms as she groans loudly before turning me around in the direction of the Football players across the hallway. “I do not need a jock, thank you, Ro.” I laugh to myself as she shakes her head.

“Trust me, you need a change.” She states and I rub my lips together. 

If Bucky has found someone, maybe it is a good idea if I try and date at last. We both knew friends with benefits wasn’t something that would last forever, but our friendship could go on. At least, I thought it could. 

“Okay,” I brush my hands across my skirt as I step forward and catch his blue eyes from the end of the corridor watching me as I smile to the nearest football player. “worth a shot.”

*

“See you around Y/n.” I tuck my hair behind my ear as I walk out of school, a small smile on my face as I glance back, seeing Jason smiling before turning around and heading back towards his friends for practice. 

As I walk down the stairs and head out of the school grounds I hear the sound of a revving and I lift my head up, seeing Bucky motioning for me to hop on the back of his beaten up bike. I shake my head and he smiles, refusing to let me walk alone. 

“If you won’t get on doll, I’ll walk you home myself.” He calls out and I stop to see a few eyes watching us. “Any day now sweetheart.” He holds his hands up and I groan under my breath before walking over, taking the spare helmet. 

“Thought you’d have someone else to be taking out.” I ask as I wrap my arms around his waist as he starts the bike up.

“What’re you talking ‘bout?” He questions with a confused expression on his face as he begins to drive out of the grounds, riding down the small alleyways towards our neighbourhood. 

As his bike comes to a halt outside of my house I climb off and place the helmet on the backseat. “Well, thanks for the ride, Buck.” I smile politely as if he is suddenly a stranger which he quickly senses as he sits upright, his hands slipping from the handles to relax on his thighs. 

“Why’re you acting all weird on me, Y/n?” His voice is filled with concern and I shrug my shoulders, glancing back at my house but we both know my Dad won’t be home for a few hours at least. 

“I, I’m not.” I stutter but he raises his eyebrows, not buying it by any means. “Are you seeing someone? Because if you are that is totally cool and I’m happy for you, I just, I would like to know since we’re erm,” I motion between the two of us and he chuckles softly before rising from the bike and standing in front of me. 

His body towers mine as he raises his arms, removing the helmet allowing his hair to fall across his forehead. “What gave you that impression?” The words are almost too cold as they hit me and I stumble backwards ever so slightly. 

“Just you left awfully quick last night and I thought I might’ve done something to upset you.” I mutter quietly as I lower my head, focusing on the cobbles beneath our feet.

“Hey,” His fingers glide along my jaw until they’re resting under my chin, lifting my head up so I can focus on him, his soft smile, those bright blue eyes admiring mine so lovingly. “I just, I started thinkin’ too hard about things that’s all. Can we,” He looks around before leaning closer, whispering into my ear. “go inside for a while?” 

I simply nod as I turn around, unlocking the front door as Bucky takes my books from my bag, taking them in his arms to lighten my load as I close the front door behind us. 

“Well, I-” Before I can finish my sentence his hands are on my shoulders, moving me closer against the wall as his lips are on mine, passionately kissing and craving, begging for more. “Buck, I,” I breathe through the kisses, but his body pushing against mine renders me silent as I lift my hands up, burying them in his hair as I pull on down, wanting more. 

“Upstairs?” He mutters and I nod as his hands roam over my body until they rest under my thighs and he lifts me up until I’m straddling his waist and begin to kiss his neck, slowly biting gown, hearing him moan loudly. “Don’t stop, Y/n.” 

“I don’t plan to anytime soon, James.” I state as I lift my head up, that lustful look heavy in his eyes as he takes us upstairs, slamming my door shut behind us. 

*

As I sit beside him for once I don’t want to immediately get up, head downstairs and give him some space to change. I want to sit here, lie against his sweaty chest and listen to him talk about his day. 

There was something different this time. He wasn’t in a hurry, he didn’t need to have a release and neither did I. This was more than just quick sex, this was sensual, caring and gentle. 

“That was,” He breathes as he turns his head, smiling over to me. “something else.”

“Right?” I nod in agreement as I lie down beside him and he lifts his arm up, allowing me to move closer into him as I lean against his chest. “Bucky?” I ask and he hums quietly. “I hate to ask, but are you seeing anyone currently?” 

He sighs quietly but isn’t quick to move this time. “No.” He states and I focus on the crinkles in the sheets, our clothes laid across in a rush. “But there is someone I have in mind,” He mutters and before I can ask, the sound of the front door closing alerts both of us. 

“Y/n?!” My Dad yells and my eyes widen as I turn to Bucky, his eyes screaming in fear. 

“Oh my god. He’s home early.” I rise to my feet, quickly scrambling for my clothes as Bucky does. “Shit!” I mutter as I struggle to find my top. “Where is my blouse?” 

“Here,” Bucky throws me his shirt, leaving him topless. 

I slip it on and let out a quiet laugh. “Like you can go home shirtless, Buck. Plus I doubt my Dad will be happy to see you leaving my room shirtless.” I retort as I slip it off and throw it back to him as I slip on a jumper instead. 

“Fine.” He mutters, putting his shirt back on, hiding his body. 

“You here, sweetheart?” I hear my Dad call as he begins to come up the stairs and I quickly walk out, slamming the door behind me, leaving Bucky hiding. He smiles as he sees me, but raises an eyebrow in concern. “You alright? Why’re you all clammy? Are you getting sick?” The questions increase with worry as he steps closer, feeling my forehead. 

“I’m okay, Dad. Just a little hot.” I state and his eyebrows furrow. “Hormones and all.” I quickly add and he sighs before turning around. 

“I saw James’ bike outside, he here somewhere?” Closing my eyes I mentally curse under my breath. 

“He’s out back, I asked him to help with the rose bush if he had the time. You know, Moms favourite and all.” I lightly laugh as he nods in response before heading into his room. 

Once the door closes I let out a sigh of relief before opening my door, seeing Bucky stood there, struggling to hold back his laugh. 

“Don’t you dare.” I mutter as I point my finger to him and he walks closer. 

“What’re you going’ to do about it, doll?” He tilts his head and I give in before opening my door, and both of us quickly walk down the stairs before my Dad decides to reappear. 

As we both stand in the hallway I lick my lips as I look up at him. “Well, sorry if things got cut short.” I mutter and he smiles, nodding slightly.

“Yeah, I wish I could stay longer.” He sighs before looking up the stairs, still no sign of my Dad just yet. “Listen, Y/n. I have to tell you something.” 

I raise an eyebrow, nerves suddenly rising in my stomach as his smile disappears and a straight face replaces it as the easiness in his blue eyes falters too. “Okay?” I ask and he takes my hands in his, something he’s always done since we were little. 

“I mentioned that I wanted to see someone earlier,” He starts and I try to hide the disappointment in my expression and force a smile instead. 

“Yeah, and that’s okay.” I quickly interrupt, trying to convince myself that it isn’t an issue by any means, as it shouldn’t be. 

“So,” He begins to smile nervously as he can’t meet my gaze. “I’m just going to ask her, right? I mean, it can’t be that hard, can it?” 

I let out a small laugh, placing my hand on his upper arm. “James, she’d be crazy to not want to go on a date with you.” I reassure him and the blue finally meets my eyes. 

“Will you go dancing with me sometime, Y/n?” He asks and I let out a soft laugh. 

“Just like that, see she’ll love you.” I say and then he blankly stares at me. “Wait, what?” 

“You’re that clueless?” He questions and I shrug my shoulders. “All this time, you’re the girl I’ve been after.” He shakes his head before opening the front door, standing in it as his hand slips out of mine. “Should’ve known you didn’t feel the same.” 

He holds onto the door but I quickly snap out of it, pulling it back open as I stand at the top of the stairs. “Saturday, Seven pm.” I call out with a smile playing on my lips. 

Bucky turns his head and climbs off of his bike before walking up the stairs, standing on the one below mine so we’re the same height. 

I place my hands on his cheeks as he pulls me closer, kissing me softly. “It’s a date.” He mutters before turning around and heading back on his bike, a smile evident on his face as he drives away. 

Inside I can feel myself screaming, but I remain composed as I turn back inside and I jump as my Dad stands there with his arms crossed. 

“I told you all along, Y/n. He’s the guy for you.” He states before heading into the kitchen as I close the front door, unable to stop my smile growing. “Took you two long enough!”  

#this was so cute to write omg #thank you for the request #imagines #bucky #bucky x reader #bucky imagines #bucky imagine #bucky fluff #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x y/n #avengers imagine #avengers imagines #avengers au #avengers writing #avengers x reader #avengers fluff #marvel imagine #marvel imagines #marvel writing #bb imagine #marvel #marvel fluff

[rovvboat]

Paper Planes

Colossus/Piotr Rasputin x Reader

A/N: Prompt by the wonderful @candle-light-writings!! <3 <3 Sorry it took me awhile!! Hope you like it hehe 

word count: 5.2k (I DONT KNOW HOW?!)

Summary: You’re a young mutant-in-training at the newly opened Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters. You (quite literally) run into Colossus on a packed day, and end up becoming friends with the mutant, who offers to help with your combat training. The friendship soon grows into something more, and takes flight to bring him home.

You were running late yet again. Stupid alarm clock. It just had to get busted on one of the most important days of your time in Xavier’s school.

You dash through the hallways that were clogged with students as you weave through them on your way to your training class. As you reach the end of the crowd, you see that it’s a clear route for you – through to the training grounds – and you pick up speed.

Your thoughts were so focused on reaching the class on time that you neglected to watch out for the blind-spot at the adjacent corridor that joins the hallway.

In a split second, you make contact with a tall, brawny student – whose stacks of paper goes flying all around the corridor.

‘’SHIT. I’m so sorry!’’ You quickly got up before he did.

You wave your arms around, the papers spiral above the fallen man’s head as he watches – baffled by the flying papers – before once again becoming a neat stack – categorized exactly as it was before the fall. The papers come to rest gently into your right arm, as you offer your other hand to the unfortunate student. He takes it, lifting himself up with the help of your anchor.

You quickly pass the stack to him, before zooming off again – leaving the man to watch you disappear as quickly as you appeared.

As the man returns to his duties, he catches something shimmering on the floor and bends down to pick it up. It was a beautifully folded paper crane, though it felt a lot sturdier and tougher than your average origami crane. He picks it up and inspects it – catching the name of the owner scribbled under one of its wings. He carefully places it on the top of the stack, before making his way to his own training room.

‘’You oughta’ be more careful about these things, darlin’.’’ Logan explains. ‘’You can’t keep being late for these important trainings, especially not when your skills ‘ave yet to be mastered fully in terms of combat.’’

You look to the ground, one arm across your stomach holding onto the other, embarrassed at the fact that you were late once again.

‘’I’m sorry, Logan. I just… don’t think that my powers would be the best for offensive tactics…’’ You sigh.

‘’Listen, darlin’. All that doesn’t matter. Most of our ops are on the offensive, and if that is what you’re weakest at, then we are going ta’ have to train that the most.’’

You nod as he pats your back. ‘’Have more faith in your abilities. They might surprise you.’’

You sulk all the way back to your dorm room. Most days in the school were like this. Mostly disappointing. You plop down onto your bed and let out a heavy sigh.

If everyday is going to be this disappointing, I don’t think I want to be here anymore. Maybe I could just sell paper cranes for a living.

Your train of thought is halted by a knock on the door.

‘’Coming!’’

Great. They probably want to add some after school combat training lessons.

You open the door, and your eyes meet the large torso of a man, who was looking down on you. Your eyes trail up to his face, and you’re greeted by a set of serene blue eyes.

You pause for a moment, not knowing what to say or do. The man staring back at you was obviously Piotr Rasputin, or Colossus –  as he was called on the field. You’ve heard many stories about this student, mostly about how good his fighting skills were and how strong he was, not to mention how he was set to be one of the main members of the X-Men team.

He was also very, v e r y easy on the eyes. His hair was neatly styled up, wearing a white t-shirt that fit snugly over his muscles. Torso tapered down like a V. The other students nicknamed him Hercules, built like a Greek demi-god.

You notice his mouth moving, snapping you back into the present moment.

‘’Hello. I am sorry to intrude, but are you Y/N?’’ He asks.

‘’Yes, did Logan send you?’’

‘’Oh no, he did not. I just found this–‘’ he shows you something in his palm– ‘’beautifully made paper crane. It fell this morning when we… collided. I thought you might want this returned. It looks absolutely wonderful. And I thought it would be missed.’’

‘’Oh my God, you were the person I banged into this morning! I’m so sorry about that! Are you alright? Here, come on in.’’ You open the door wider for him to make his way into your room.

He slowly enters your room, taking in all of the different kinds of paper stacked neatly on your shelves. He stops by your small display case of a plethora of foldings– from roses of various colours, to plants, to animals. They all looked so realistic and intricate.

‘’Don’t mind them too much.’’ You laugh nervously.

‘’They are… very beautiful.’’ He says to you, clearly impressed.

You quietly watch as he takes his time to admire them. You clear your throat in the silence.

‘’I could make one for you if you’d like.’’ You wave at the papers across the room and, as if on command, they glides towards you and fold intricately into several shapes – tearing and twisting in impossible ways – before floating gently onto your palm in a shape of a confidently roaring tiger.

Colossus watches all of this in awe.

You present the tiger to him, shimmying your fingers over it – bringing it to life as it gives a mighty roar.

‘’Bozhe moi! That is amazing! What beautiful powers you have!’’ He exclaims.

‘’Well… they’re not much use for fighting… I thought you came here because Logan sent you to ask me about some combat lessons or something.’’

‘’Oh, no he didn’t. But is it something that you would be needing help with? I am happy to help out a fellow X-Man whenever I can.’’

Your eyes light up at the proposition.

‘’Are you sure? I’m kind of known to be… difficult. Especially with combat.’’

‘’No such thing! I will do everything in my power to make you the best combat X-Man the world has ever seen!’’ He says, flexing in a dramatic way to drive the point home.

You laugh at that, before nodding at the proposal.

‘’That is really nice of you to do, Colossus.’’

‘’Please, call me Piotr.’’

‘’Alrighty, Mr Piotr. I’ll meet you when you’re free?’’

‘’Of course! We will start as soon as possible! We shall meet at the break of dawn tomorrow.’’

Your face changes from a grin to a shocked expression, causing Piotr to laugh.

‘’You’re not kidding, are you?’’

‘’Early bird catches the worm.’’ He responds cheekily. You respond with a palm to your face, before laughing.

‘’Alright then, I’ll see you tomorrow. But seriously, thank you so much for helping me out. I’ll have to give you a treat for that.’’ You say as he checks his watch.

‘’It is not needed.’’ He holds his palms up with a smile. ‘’We are X-Men, and X-Men do not hold favours. Now, you would have to excuse me. I have some matters I need to attend to. It was nice meeting you today, Y/N. And thank you very much for the pet tiger you have gifted me. I appreciate it very much.’’ He admires the paper tiger on his palm, before bidding you farewell and stepping out of your room.

You thank whatever god or fate that helped you get this arrangement, before getting ready for dinner and heading to bed.

 Your eyes open at the sound of your new alarm clock, blaring a rendition of I’m Still Standing, playing on the radio. You whine, and flip over onto your stomach, holding the pillow tightly, promptly burying your face in it – before hammering down on the alarm clock’s snooze button.

Not 2 minutes later, Elton John’s voice breaks the silence yet again.

Don’t you know l’m standing better than I ever did. Looking like a true survivor, feelin’ like a little kid.

You let it play, before a knock sounds at your door. You snooze the alarm, and get up to greet whoever was at the door. You catch your reflection in the adjacent mirror – hair fuzzy from sleeping, a big long sweatshirt draped over your body with just a little bit of your shorts peaking out from the end of it. Peak dating material.

You open to door, and it feels like the same scene from yesterday plays out.

Piotr takes a pause, looking at you at your most comfortable state; you bring up a hand, trying to rub your eyes out of sleepiness. He chuckles a little. Your eyes adjust to Piotr standing in front of you and you flash him a smile.

‘’I guess I was right in my assumption that you would not be ready before I was. I am sorry if I woke you up, but it is almost time for our training.’’ He says, tapping at his watch.

You yawn and tiptoe into a stretch – extending your arms up to really get your muscles working. ‘’Yeah, I’m up. Gimme 5 minutes to get ready.’’ You say as you close the door. You quickly wash up before throwing on your training outfit – a white tank top paired with black sweatpants. You open the door to Piotr waiting for you in the hallway.

‘’Morning! Sorry it took me a while to get up. I’m still feeling a little tired. Not used to the whole early bird thing, yknow? I assume you do this every day. Why would you want to be up this early, anyway?’’ You jokingly ask as you lock your door.

Piotr’s deep laugh rumbles down the quiet corridor. ‘’I have been known to be an early riser, yes. But worry not, you will get used to it. Working in a farm as boy helped me a lot.’’

‘’You were a farmer? I never would’ve guessed!’’

‘’Yes, back in Russia my family used to run a farm. It was hard work but… it was with family, and it was home.’’ A sadness was etched in his voice. You decided not to press the matter, instead you tried to get his spirits up a little.

‘’But hey, family is always with you,’’ you place a hand to his chest, near where his heart would be, ‘’right here. They’ll always be here’’ You give him a few pats. ‘’Now c’mon! I’m itching for some learning!’’ You say as you walk ahead, out onto the training field. Normally you wouldn’t be this excited, but being trained by one of the coveted X-Men? You best take all you can out of it.

The sun was just looming over the horizon, the heat slowly replacing the chill of the morning. You and Piotr do a few laps around the track, warming up for the training session.

‘’Before I teach you anything, I would like to know where you stand with regard to your combat.’’

‘’I’m just really bad, I don’t know what to tell ya.’’ You shrug.

Piotr laughs. ‘’We can get better, no matter which stage we are. I would like for you to attack me. Feel free to not hold back.’’

‘’But you’re not in your metal-man form. Is that alright?’’ You ask. Piotr nods an affirmative.

You stand up, dusting yourself off the freshly chipped grass on your ass. You get into your fighting stance – the one Logan always emphasized.

‘’Good stance, but you need a wider footing.’’ Piotr remarks. You shift accordingly.

Piotr gets into his fighting stance. You contemplate what you are going to do, before lunging towards him with a hand balled into a fist. He expertly dodges it, and you switch to the other hand – trying again to make first contact. He dodges some, while blocking others.

‘’You are aggressive, but you have to be smart. Look for openings.’’

You knit your eyebrows in concentration. You try again, jabbing at him multiple times – never once actually hitting him. At one instance, whilst he was too focused on blocking your blows, you find an opening near his stomach. You retract your arm, and spring a punch towards it – stopping right before making contact.

‘’Why did you stop?’’

‘’I didn’t want to hurt you.’’

‘’It is alright. You need not be afraid of that. Training requires that we take some risks. On the battlefield, there is no such thing as mercy.’’ He says solemnly.

You stare at him in disbelief. A tension rising in the air, before you both erupt into laughter. These moral dilemmas were so prominent in your lives that it becomes more of an inside joke than anything – meant to be laughed away instead of brooded over.

Piotr wraps up the training session by teaching you some offensive tactics, before you both head towards the showers.

From that day onwards, you notice just how much you’ve been running into the him without actually noticing. Your paths had crossed almost every class, though you shared none with him for this year, and you never once thought about it until now.

At the beginning it was just shy hellos and see you laters. But as you trained with him more often, it transformed into a kind of friendship that you never knew you needed. You built a confidence that you never knew you had from the time you spent with him. You’d spend mornings training with Piotr, afternoons training with Logan, and evenings painting with Piotr. (Though your painting normally consisted of getting paint on yourself when you accidentally use your brush contemplate your next stroke – inevitably landing some on your face.)

Your hand-to-hand combat improved tremendously, which Logan takes note of instantly from the way your body moves so fluidly and confidently against him.

‘’That’s some good fightin’ you brought to the table. ‘M glad you’re improvin’ Y/N.’’ He commends, proudly crossing his arms. You beam at him. Finally, finally some improvement. Logan lets you off way earlier than usual, on account of your excellent performance.

You run towards the library’s art studio, because you know that’s where Piotr would be, excited to tell him the good news. You hadn’t had the time to have a proper meet up or training with him for the past week, and you felt happy to finally be able to do so.

You greet the librarian with a curt nod, before moving up the stairs towards Piotrs’ art cave. The room is open for people to move freely in and out, but today there wasn’t much traffic due to the upcoming exams.

You stand at the doorway, scanning the room for the uncanny figure of the burly Russian. You spot him sitting on a tall bar stool in front of an easel with a canvas. He was dressed in a white wifebeater – much like what Logan would wear, but with additional paint smudges and ink stains – paired with baggy sweat pants. The canvas in front of him was empty, which was highly uncharacteristic. He’s usually halfway through his works by the time you come to visit.

You hunker down, sneaking up to a nearby shelf, and watch as he holds onto something – a photograph – in his hand. He longingly stares at it. You catch a glimpse of blonde hair and cheery smiles on it, and you know right away what made him look so forlorn. He heaves a sigh, tucking the picture into his chest pocket.

Your heart breaks for Piotr. And even though his power is his strength, in this moment – with the rays of the sun filtering into the room, dust particles dancing around him in this musky room – he looks so alone. You decide that you couldn’t bear to see him this way, as you stealthily pull a few papers from the cabinets. The wind rustles through the window in perfect fashion, just as you will the sheets to fold into each other in front of you, the winds helping you to mask the noises of the paper. Once you were finished, a grey-metallic coloured figure of Colossus floats gently onto your palm – a folding which you fittingly dub ‘’mini-Colossus’’  

You send in mini-Colossus, as Piotr stares at the empty canvas –  with one hand positioned over it to make a stroke with the paintbrush.  His shoulders slump over, before bringing a hand over his forehead in conceded frustration – covering his eyes. It was very unlike him to look so… tired. And it tugged at your heart how sad and distressed he looked.

You make mini-Colossus get Piotr’s attention by making it dancing infront of him. First, it does the macarena, then disco dances, and even does a split on the easel. When none of this gets his attention, you finally make mini-Colossus pat Piotr on the hand – surprising Piotr. He watches with confusion as mini-Colossus repeats the macarena, before noticing that it’s a paper cut-out. His head swerves around the studio looking for you, when you finally emerge from the back shelf.

‘’Y/N. I’m sorry. I hadn’t realized that you were done with your classes already.’’ He gives you an apologetic look, but his eyes looked tired, and his smile felt forced. You go over to him, draping an arm over his shoulder, and placing a hand to his chest.

‘’Hey, buddy, it’s alright. You feeling okay? I saw you looking at that picture of you and Illyana.’’

‘’I am not sure. I… miss home. And my little snowflake. Dearly.’’ His voice wavers a little. ‘’I wish I could visit more often, but the Professor says it is much too risky. And that I am needed here.’’ He looks away at that. You reposition your arm, and allow your hand to find his back, slowly stroking down to provide any semblance of comfort that you can. You move in front of him, before embracing his large body in a big hug, holding onto him as tightly as you can. His hands slowly come up to hold you close, his face feels like it’s burning hot against your shoulder.

‘’It’s alright, Piotr. Your family is always with you no matter where you are. And I’m sure Illyana is happy to know that her brother is out here making the world a better place for her.’’ You console him. You feel a slight wetness on your shoulder, and you pull away to look at him. His eyes were red and teary – and you feel your heart drop. You cup your hands around his face, using your thumbs to wipe away the stray tears. He closes his eyes and let his head fall forward. You pull him back into a hug, and allow him to let it out.

Your hand moves to comfortingly stroke down his back. He’s silent, and you can tell he feels embarrassed to be crying like this, but you also know that he needs this right now.

Several moments pass, before Piotr shifts in his seat. You instinctively step aside, giving him some room to breathe.

He goes to the washroom to wash his face before coming back to the room. You patiently wait for him to say something, as he perches on the high stool again, his body facing you. He takes a deep breath.

‘’Thank you, Y/N. For being here. I… It can be difficult sometimes. Usually I am not… this way.’’

‘’Hey, don’t worry about that. We all have our days and I understand. I just hope you know that… you’re family to me too.’’ You offer as you move closer to him. He holds your gaze, his lips curving into a warm smile. His arm stretches out and pulls you into another, more mellow hug. He speaks in a low voice.

‘’Mne tak povezló tebyá vstrétit. I am so lucky to have met you, Y/N.’’

You feel a blush creep up your cheeks as you slowly bring your arms up to his back, returning the hug.

 That night, you couldn’t catch a wink of sleep. You catch yourself thinking about how Piotrs’ arms felt around you, and the warm way he regarded you in his thick Russian.

I am so lucky to have met you.

The phrase lingers around you; your stomach exploding with butterflies, as a warmth spread across your chest. You’ve always considered him a friend, and, of course, you loved him unconditionally. But seeing him today, made you feel like there was maybe more to be found in this friendship – for the both of you.

 The next day, you head over to the Professor’s office. You carefully look out for anyone else before approaching his door. And there it stood, tall and heavyset, in all of its’ oak brown glory – the Professor’s name written boldly across in gold metallic letters. It was the only thing standing between you and the arduous task that would be talking to the Professor.

It’s not like the man was going to eat you up. You just had a kind of reverence for him. You gathered your courage and knocked on the door. Part of you was hoping that he would be out, but you knew that him being available was important, and tried to push those hopes away.

A few seconds pass, and just as you turn to leave, a voice sounds through the door.

‘’You may come in.’’ The voice reverberated through the hardwood door, but so much clearer than it should be.

Is he in my head?

You hear a laugh, which unnerves you to no end. But the twisting of your nerves gives you a strange sense of confidence, as you walk up to the door and swing it open in one swift motion.

‘’Welcome child. What is it that you need on this fine day?’’ He enquires. He has his elbows on the table, hands clasped together expectantly.

‘’Well, I assume you already know what I’m here for, but I guess I have to tell you anyway, won’t I?’’ You give him a little snark. He gives you a smile as you go about stating your business.

‘’Okay. Well, I just think it would be good for Piotr if he got to visit his family. Just for a few days. I can cover his teaching classes and help him out with the stuff he’s missed out. I’m doing pretty well in all other areas, and I’ve gotten much better at my combat too.’’ You lay out your credentials and it feels like the tides are pushing in your favour.

The Professor smirks at you. ‘’You make a compelling argument, child. But do not underestimate the commitments that Piotr has as Colossus. He is our strength on the battle field. Would you be able to fill that role, considering your powers?’’

He has you pinned down, and you know the answer he’s looking for.

‘’You are the only person who knows what my paper is... capable of. I’m pretty sure I can handle it. I just need… more control over it.’’ You clench your fists a little.

‘’Very well. If you allow me to train you, I will let you take on the responsibilities of Colossus, and he may visit his family.’’

You grow wide-eyed at the proposition. Trained personally by the Professor? It felt too good to be true.  And the fact that in return you get to give Piotr a chance to visit his family? It was an offer that was impossible to resist.

‘’Hell yeah! – I mean, that would be wonderful. Thank you so much, Prof.’’ You reply sheepishly, in an effort to downplay the fact that you were absolutely ecstatic about the arrangement. ‘’Can I go tell Piotr now? We can arrange training sessions later on! Can he take the X-Jet? Does he need a pilot? Do you have a pilot? It’s going to be a long trip to–‘’ You’re interrupted by the Professor clearing his throat.

‘’There is one jet available. Piotr’s a trained pilot, so he should be able to fly to and from his destination. You need not worry, arrangements will be made for him to leave tomorrow morning.’’

You do a fist pump, with a celebratory ‘’YES!’’ as the Professor watches with amusement. You excuse yourself from the room and dart towards the training field where you know Piotr would be. The timing was perfect as well, seeing as he was just about done with his field training session with some of the other senior X-Men.

Piotr stands on the field, stretching his arms after the session, when he sees your figure belting down the steps. He tilts his head quizzically at you. ‘’Y/N…?’’

‘’Piotr! I have a surprise for you! Piotr Piotr Piotr Piotr!’’ You repeat with increasing excitement as you speed across the field at top speed. Piotr raises his hands in defeat, and chuckles at your exhilarated movement that translate into almost comical, before he realizes that you had no intention of slowing down.

‘’Y/N, wha–‘’ You crash into him – arms wide and moving to loop around his neck – as his arms open to embrace you; his body does a small 180 turn to stop you from toppling him over. You hang onto him as he holds you up by your waist, and you give a hearty laugh, making Piotr chuckle from how utterly delighted you look. You shift your head to look directly at him and share the news.

‘’I have a surprise for you!’’ You cheer as you beam at him, before realizing that the other X-Men are staring at what looks like an incredibly loving reunion. Piotr realises it as he catches you watching the others. He clears his throat and sets you down.

‘’Perhaps we could discuss this in private.’’ A bashful Piotr says as he moves to walk away from the crowd, ushering you with him.

Once you were at a considerable distance from the rest, you couldn’t help your excitement translate into you hopping in place as you spoke.

‘’Guess what I got you.’’

Piotr puts a finger to his chin, trying to guess with a hum. ‘’I am not sure… Is it new paint colours? I’ve been running out so quickly…’’

Your eyes grow wide in anticipation as you continue to grin at him.

‘’Is that not it? Hmm… Is it another mini-Colossus? Or a mini-You?’’ He asks playfully.

‘’I got you… A trip back home your family!’’ You announce triumphantly. Piotr looks dumbfounded at your words. He was at a loss for words, and he couldn’t believe what he had just heard.

‘’Are you… You’re not… But how?’’ He staggers for an explanation.

‘’Pulled some favours from Prof X. You don’t have to worry too much about the details, buddy. He said you could take the X-Jet with you but you gotta get ready to leave tomorrow morning! How amazing is that!’’

Piotr continues to stare at you, looking completely stunned.

‘’I… I cannot believe my ears… Bozhe moi… This feels like a dream. Y/N, you did not have to do this for me.’’

You raise both palms up in surrender to halt his train of thought. ‘’Woah, woah – No such thing. You’ve helped me regain my confidence, and better yet… you gave me a good friend. You’ve done more for me than I can thank you for. I can only try my best to make you happy.’’ Your voice goes soft as you look away with a coy smile. His blue eyes regard you with warmth, and holds your gaze when you look back to him. You feel your cheeks burn up with feeling as your heart rate soars through the roof. You decide to break the feeling and grab his hand, dragging him behind you towards his room.

‘’C’mon, we gotta get packing! I’ll help!’’ You say as you try your best to mask your emotions.

 The next morning, you get up before your alarm clock and get yourself ready in record time, before dashing out the door towards Piotr’s room. You slap the door repeatedly, mostly out of excitement. He opens the door with a bemused look. Your eyes grow wide and your jaw drops.

He’s dressed in a crisp white button-down shirt and khaki pants, matched nicely with a brown leather belt. He has his hair styled up, and you notice that his eyes are now a different colour – a gentle russet-brown.

His hand finds the back of his neck as he flashes you a sheepish smile. ‘’Too much?’’

‘’You look… beautiful, Piotr.’’ You say with sincerity in your voice. ‘’There is no other way to describe you… Handsome doesn’t even get close to covering it.’’

‘’I am glad you like it, Y/N. Though I do not like wearing contacts… But the Professor says I need to have a secret identity. A small price to pay.’’ Piotr chuckles.

Your face hasn’t fallen from its’ awe, and you realise how obviously you were gawking. You immediately bring up your watch to check the time. ‘’Oh uh, I guess it’s time soon. Let’s get going. The sooner you leave, the quicker you can reach Russia.’’ You urge.

You tell him about the arrangements as you both make your way to the hanger.

‘’I packed some extra protein bars and milkshakes for you – don’t worry, they’re healthy. There’s also a crate of fruits that I made them put in the jet. Unfortunately you’re going to have to eat some ready-made meals though and also–‘’ You ramble on about his inventory. He nods at everything you say, admiring the way you put yourself to task. He thinks about how you would’ve stubbornly insisted on the crate of fruits, and chuckles to himself.

‘’What’s so funny?’’ You tilt your head as your brows furrow.

‘’It is nothing.’’ He smiles.

Once all the last-minute checks were made, the hanger door opens – allowing the chill of the early morning to rush into the large area. You instinctively embrace yourself from the cold, when Piotr’s arm comes up around behind you, rubbing your shoulder to try to keep you warm. The small rush in your chest warmed you up instantly, as you look over to Piotr, smiling back at you.

You lower your arms to your side as he moves to face you.

‘’Please, no more words. You’ve got a family to visit, dumbo! You gotta go!’’ You insist – though part of you didn’t truly want him to leave so soon.

His lips were still curved, tenderly watching you do your best to get him home as quickly as possible. You hold his gaze, and he steps forward, gathering you tightly in his arms – his head lowered to your shoulder as he talks.

‘’Thank you so much, Y/N.’’ He breathes, and it feels like he’s just let go of a mountain on his shoulders. You hug him as tightly and hold onto him, arms snaked around his neck. He shifts his head back, tilting your head up to him, before placing a kiss on your forehead.

‘’I will be back soon, myshka. I will write to you.’’

‘’Wait! I almost forget! Here–‘’ you pull out a polaroid out of your pocket and present it to Piotr. ‘’Something to remember me by.’’ You grin at him.

He looks at the picture and beams. It was the first picture that you took of the both of you in his studio; when you tried painting with him – both of you covered in paint stains – smiling with undeniable happiness. ‘’I will keep this close to my heart.’’ He looks back at you.

You wave at him, pushing him to make a move. He walks into the jet, turning back to wave at you as the jet door closes.

You watch as the engine rumbles and zooms out of the hanger. You stay in the hanger for a moment, before moving to go about the rest of your day – one week without Piotr would pass by quickly, and you were already excited to greet him once he comes back home.

Taglist!

@emma-frxst <3 <3 

#Colossus x reader #piotr rasputin x reader #colossus #piotr rasputin #x men fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #requested! #colossus/piotr rasputin x reader

[varietydisco]

Bunny in a Bunny Suit

Characters: Arthur Morgan & John Marston, Hosea Matthews, Dutch van der Linde, Susan Grimshaw, Mac & Davey Callander Rating: Teen and Up Tags: Pre-Canon, Family dynamics, Trans Male Characters, Vague descriptions of non-sexual nudity, Silly but not technically crack Word Count: 3k

Description: Arthur tells young John an unfortunate lie. (Namesake: Bunny in a Bunny Suit by Simone Whittaker)

Part 3 of the Coming of Age series

1885

The first thing Arthur was greeted with upon riding into their temporary home— an abandoned, but well-off ranch on the plains— was Susan trudging over. She wore a lemon-soured expression that made Arthur briefly consider turning around and heading back for the mountains.

John leaned to one side and looked around Arthur’s shoulder to see what was happening.

“Afternoon, miss Grimshaw,” Arthur greeted. He touched the brim of his hat as he brought his horse to a slow stop beside the pasture fence.

As he lifted his leg, about to swing himself off the horse, Susan hurried her pace and waved her arms.

“Oh, no you don’t!” She exclaimed. “Don’t you boys even think of coming in here.”

“What? How come?” Arthur asked. “Did we get evicted while we was gone?”

Susan’s war-path came to a sudden stop and she huffed. With one finger held up at the boys, she turned back on her trail and went for a bucket of supplies hanging on a fence post a few feet away.

“…What’s she got?” John whispered.

“Somethin’ to beat us with, probably.” Arthur replied.

Bucket in hand, Susan stormed her way back over to the boys. Her expression never shifted once.

“I could smell you both comin’ a mile off,” She spat. “Just take one look at yourselves— you’re both disgusting.”

“I missed you, too.” Arthur said. “And why yes, we are safe and sound. Thanks for askin’.”

Susan huffed. “Take this down to the pond and go wash yourselves, before you even think of comin’ into the house.” She shoved the bucket up towards John, who awkwardly took it. The boy shot Arthur a quizzical look, his brows furrowed, then set it in his lap.

“You can’t be serious.”

Susan crossed her arms firmly. “Don’t test me, Morgan.”

Arthur groaned. He took his hat off and hooked it onto the horn of his saddle. His face was caked with dirt and sweat, and so were his clothes.

“We just finished a three-day huntin’ trip gatherin’ food for you lot, and we don’t even get a thank you.” He waved his hand back at John. “Marston here even caught his first rabbit. Not that you cared to ask any.”

“Good for him, doesn’t change that stench that followed you both home,” Susan made a shooing motion with her hand. “Leave what you caught here and get your asses down to the pond to wash. Don’t bother coming back until you’ve scrubbed every inch.”

“Lord Almighty,” Arthur mumbled. He reached back and elbowed John. “Hand that bucket over and unload the horse.”

John furrowed his brows.

“Why me?”

“‘Cause you smell the worse, and I want Grimshaw to get a good whiff.”

Susan scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Oh, grow up, Arthur.”

Arthur chuckled at that, while John eventually forked over the bucket and slid off the back of Boadicea. Silently, Arthur got a kick out of watching John fumble to untie their kill from the wagon and less silently did he enjoy watching Susan pluck at strands of John’s greasy hair while shaking her head in disgust.

Once the whole ordeal was done, John climbed back up, and the boys hit the trail again. As they approached the pond a few minutes later, John spoke up and said, bitterly, “That Grimshaw sure is a spitfire, isn’t she?”

“Not exactly the word I’d use to describe her most days, but that’ll work alright,” Arthur replied.

He rode Boadicea down a small, grassy slope which lead them to the pond’s bank. Mosquitoes and other bugs danced over the water’s silky-smooth surface. A frog leapt over a lily pad, and some birds chirped from the surrounding trees. The scene was pretty enough to have been a painting; Arthur only felt a little bad that they were about to use this pond to wash their asses.

Arthur pulled the horse to a stop and motioned his hand to John.

“Alright, let’s get this over with. Jump in.”

John faltered a second. “You ain’t serious. Clothes an’ all?”

“Naw, you’re right.” Arthur swung his leg and slid off the horse’s back. “Take your clothes off. We’ll have to burn ‘em at this point anyway, no sense in gettin’ them damp.”

John’s cheeks reddened. “Not you, too.”

“Yeah, me too. Now that Grimshaw’s mentioned it, and I’m standing down-wind of you, I can’t help noticin’ how ripe you are.”

Arthur swaggered towards the water. He made swift work of his coat and his shirt, both of which were promptly tossed aside onto some rocks. He scanned the water all the while and savoured the feeling of the early summer sun on his body.

He figured this place wouldn’t be too bad of a spot to stay for a while, assuming they didn’t plan any big commotions yet. The law was getting stricter about things like that and people like them, and frankly Arthur could have used a little peace and quiet for a while.

And there was that sweet girl he met in town— Mary Gillis. If nothing else, Arthur wouldn’t mind sticking around just to see her again. If he kept a low enough profile for a while, he might even have the chance to ask her out for a dinner, or something to that extent.

Caught in his own thoughts, Arthur stopped paying any attention to John, who was slowly taking care of his own clothes. Arthur only came back to reality when John announced, “Don’t look, okay?”

Arthur scoffed and rolled his eyes. “I don’t even wanna look at you dressed. I promise you, I ain’t lookin’ now.”

Keeping good to his word regardless, Arthur turned halfway to the side, putting his back fully to John. He kicked his boots off, then draped his pants over the rock with his shirt. Eager to get washed and return to camp, Arthur took off for the water.

It was warm at first against his feet as he waded in, though the farther in he went, the cold seemed to creep up his hairy thighs and straight through his bones. Instead of lingering on it, Arthur took a dive into the shallow water. He swam for a bit, letting the water rush over him and clear his senses; when he needed to breathe again, his toes found the soft, muddy bottom of the pond and he stood upright. Arthur burst to the surface, water cascading down his heavy-set body. He glanced around, wiping the water out of his eyes, and then fully turned to the shore.

“Hurry up and get in, Marston.” He called out.

John clutched the bucket to his chest unsurely. He still had his underwear on, but if he wanted to ride back to camp with a chapped ass, that was going to be his own issue. After a few long beats, John started wading out into the water.

He got to about his knees before stopping.

“It’s too cold,” he complained.

“S’ not so bad once you get in further. Also, shut up and throw me some soap.”

John rooted through the bucket with a grumble. He then tossed a bar to Arthur underhanded; Arthur lurched forward to catch it, but just barely.

“Christ!” Arthur scoffed. “What a shitty hand you’ve got.”

John frowned hard. His cheeks went red again as he dumped the bucket of its contents— another bar of soap and a wash brush— then filled it instead with water. He poured it over his head while Arthur started soaping himself up.

“Can’t throw, can barely shoot… It’s a wonder what Dutch sees in you at all.” Arthur called out. “Guess he likes projects.”

John’s cheeks flared hotter as annoyance built inside of him. Soaking wet, he threw the bucket aside and snatched up the soap instead.

“At least I’m not a butterball,” John snapped.

Arthur snorted a laugh. Quickly, he dunked his head underwater, then worked the soap into his hair.

“Butterball, huh? That’s a big word for you.”

“Would you just fuck off already?”

Arthur laughed again. It was so easy to get on John’s nerves, it almost made him understand all the grief Hosea and Dutch used to give him.

“I oughta wash your mouth out with soap. Save Grimshaw doin’ it herself.”

“I’d like to see you try, fatty.”

Arthur cocked his brow. For a long moment he stared at John, quietly sizing him up, before a smirk took his lips. John busied himself with scrubbing and soaping, so he didn’t notice Arthur approaching at first.

“I reckon you should come take a dip with me, Marston.”

John’s eyes widened with fear. He took half a step back, his hands going up.

“Don’t you dare. I can’t swim, you know that.”

“Oh, I’m well aware,” Arthur grinned. “Promise I won’t throw you out far… Just enough to let the eels get a bite in of your toes.”

“That ain’t funny.” John warned. He took another step back.

“Sure it is. At least to me.”

John stared at Arthur for half a moment, then turned and bolted for the shore.

Arthur gave immediate chase, laughing.

“Come on, not afraid of a little water, are ya?”

John was quick to scramble ashore, crying out, “Don’t you dare!” all the while. Arthur could have easily chased him the whole way, and maybe even caught the little bastard, but he started laughing too hard to make it far.

Arthur stopped a few feet from the shore, hands on his knees, while John scampered away to go hide behind an indifferent Boadicea. Arthur took a long moment to catch his breath, before he stood back up straight. He pushed his wet hair out of his face, then cleared his throat.

“Goddamn, you’re somethin’ else, boy.” Arthur laughed. He paused, smiling, before noting the weird expression on John’s face.

John’s head poked out barely over the top of Boadicea’s saddle. His brows were knitted tight together and his mouth was slightly open with disbelief.

Arthur’s smile slipped off. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure something wasn’t coming up behind him; sure enough, all he saw was an expanse of water and the swaying, shady trees around its edge. He looked back at John, lips pursed.

“What? You got a problem?”

“Where’s…” John started, his voice slow and confused. Maybe a little scared. “Where’s your dick at?”

Arthur glanced down, mostly confused himself. The water came up to the middle of his thighs, gently lapping at the back of his legs. He took half a second to process everything, before he realized. John was so fresh in the gang, he didn’t know a damn thing.

Immediately, Arthur knew the right thing to do. He should sit down, give John the whole spiel Hosea had given him years ago, about people and norms and bodies…

But he wasn’t going to do that. Instead, Arthur gasped in fake terror.

“Oh my god. It must’ve fallen off.”

John’s voice cracked as he exclaimed, “What?!”

“I can’t believe this,” Arthur continued, voice taut with faux panic. “I had it just a second ago— oh my god. One of the eels must’ve taken it.”

John’s face went white as a sheet. His body was stiff.

“All these years, I thought Hosea was pullin’ my leg when he said your dick would fall off if you played with it too much, but he was tellin’ me the truth this whole time!”

“You ain’t for real,” John managed, weakly. His own voice was high-strung with panic he tried to keep control of.

“Look, you can even see for yourself. It sure as shit ain’t there!”

That much was true. Arthur had a mat of hair that went down from his large chest to his stomach and between his legs, but there was nothing else to be seen. John desperately wanted to believe that this was a practical joke, but there was no conceivable way he could think of for Arthur to pull it off. Literally.

Except, after a few long, dramatic pauses, Arthur cracked. He barked a laugh, one which made John’s shoulders tighten and his cheeks flare cherry red. Before he could snap at Arthur, Arthur pushed all his hair back away from his face and waved his hand.

“Ah, I’m just messin’ with ya,” Arthur drawled. “That old thing fell off years ago.”

The annoyance at being laughed at evaded John’s face. In its wake, his eyes snapped open wide again as the colour flooded from his cheeks.

“Yessir, probably when I was about, oh… Twelve, thirteen.” Arthur turned around, trudging back to the water. “I shook it too many times whenever I went to take a piss and one day the damn thing just popped right off in my hand. But never mind that.”

Arthur splashed around, rinsing the soap out of his hair and off his body. Dropping the topic altogether, he said, “Best hurry up an’ finish washin’, Marston; supper won’t wait on our accounts.”

Uneasily, John trailed back to the water. He didn’t have an appetite for supper any more.

                                                     —30—

“If I may,” Dutch announced, as he stepped from the stairs to the open main-floor of the cottage. “I’d like to call a meeting for a moment.”

Hosea, Susan, Mac, and Davey sat around the big dining table in the center of the room, caught amid a poker game. Arthur was across the room, in the kitchen corner, digging through one of their boxes of liquor. Oil lamps burned on the walls, lighting the room in a flickering glow. Smoke hung heavy in the air.

Hosea was the first to look up first from his cards to Dutch. He waved him over.

“Only if you make it quick,” Hosea replied. His eyes returned to the table. “We were having an intellectual and in-depth conversation about politics before Arthur returned, so he didn’t feel left out for not understanding.”

A couple chuckles came from the table. They continued to play as Dutch came around and slid into what was presumably Arthur’s empty spot between Hosea and Davey.

“This involves you too, Arthur, so pay attention,” Dutch said.

“I can hear you just fine. Go ahead.” Arthur grumbled, as he pawed fruitlessly through a rattling box of empty bottles.

“Alright. Now I want adult, honest answers here,” Dutch began. He picked up Arthur’s cards, looked them over, then showed them to Hosea. “I just spent an hour painstakingly talking to the boy, John, about something he was told recently.”

Hosea scanned the cards quickly and nodded silently. Dutch turned them to Davey.

“Alright. What was it?” Hosea asked. He pushed a sizable number of coins into the pot in the center of the table.

Arthur, notably, was silent in the background.

Dutch placed Arthur’s cards back down. He kept his face stony as he could. “Someone, supposedly, convinced the boy that his pecker was going to fall off.”

Davey laughed first, loud and hard. Mac quickly followed with his own chortle. While they both got a kick out of the idea, Susan bit back a grin and Hosea smirked, nodding to his cards. Arthur, in the background, didn’t even try to can his snorting laughter.

Dutch fought hard to keep a stern expression. His lips twitched.

“This ain’t no laughing matter. That boy was scared shitless.”

Mac’s hand shot out to grab onto Hosea’s shoulder. He gripped it, while the rest of his body shook with laughter. Hosea laughed himself, though quieter and more contained.

“You boys are awful,” Susan chided with a smirk. She swatted Davey on the shoulder. “You should be ashamed of yourselves.”

Davey kept laughing. He had already been hitting the bottle since noon, so his laughter carried farther and longer than anyone else’s. “Don’t hit me! I didn’t do it. Wish I had, though.”

“Here, here.” Mac replied.

Dutch turned to his left. “Hosea?”

Hosea patted Mac’s hand, shaking his head. “I would’ve told you already if it were me.”

“And it wasn’t me,” Dutch said, “So it had to have been one of you unlawful bunch.”

Dutch’s eyes roamed across the table and then settled on Arthur in the corner. Innocently, he continued to root through the box with one hand, while he used the other to wipe his mouth.

Dutch narrowed his eyes a little.

“Was it you, Arthur?”

“Me? No, never.” But Arthur couldn’t keep his straight face this time. His cheeks split with a crooked smirk behind his hand.

Dutch scoffed.

“Your poker face is laughable, son. That’s why you’re losing so badly.”

“Actually, it’s ‘cause I’m playin’ with a room full of cheaters… But sure. We’ll go with that.”

Dutch waved his hand.

“Go up there and apologize to the boy, will you? Hell, apologize to me, too, because I spent an hour trying to convince him otherwise and speaking on behalf of topics I am not qualified for.”

“I’m sorry you had to be in the same room as him for that long.”

“Arthur!” Dutch snapped. “Get going! Be the bigger man.”

Arthur had a little, stupid smirk about him as he left the kitchen and crossed the room instead. He slapped Dutch’s shoulder as he walked by.

“You know, if Hosea had done this to me, you wouldn’t have said a word,” Arthur commented. “How come Marston gets all the special treatment?”

“If Hosea had done it, I wouldn’t have to handle it.”

That was all Dutch had to say on the matter, so the rest of the group quieted around the table. Arthur trudged up the stairs, feet pounding the whole way, and eventually they disappeared. Once he did, Dutch tossed Arthur’s cards aside.

“You’re handling the next crisis,” He said to Hosea.

“I figured about as much.”

Then, with a smile, Hosea laid down his winning hand and reaped his rewards from the middle of the table.

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #john marston #hosea matthews #dutch van der linde #my fic #coming of age series

[leigh-kelly]

Show Me That River, Take Me Across

Some new Fire Island AU.

As the summer progresses, so does Captain Pierce’s illness. After Independence Day, you find yourself going there frequently during the day. At first you merely converse with him and enjoy his company, but before long you find yourself helping him to make his lunch since he often doesn’t eat breakfast. You become concerned for him when he finds it difficult to stand for long periods of time and though you wish you could keep it from Brittany, you know that even if she didn’t see it with her own eyes as she visited him each evening after work, it would still be your obligation to tel his daughter that he is unwell.

“I think I oughta go stay with Pop for awhile.” She tells you one night as she’s changing into her pajamas. “He’s gettin’ real sick, sweetheart. I think I oughta be there to help him.”

“If you’re going to stay with him, I’d like to come with you.” You stand from the bed and place your hand on her lower back. “I can care for him during the day and you won’t feel so overwhelmed by doing it all yourself.”

“I don’t think he’s gonna make it through the summer.” A single tear streaks down her face and she finds your hand and intertwines your fingers. “Every day he looks sicker.”

“I pray for him each night, if that’s any consolation.”

“I wish it was, but nothin’ll console me ‘sides sein’ him heal up. He’s stubborn as a mule but now he’s even conceded to havin’ us help him.”

“I know.” You nod slowly. “I’ll pack some things for us in the morning, and perhaps we’ll begin our stay tomorrow?”

“I think we oughta. But if it makes ya uncomfortable, ya sure don’t have to go with me.”

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, Brittany, and with your father ill, there’s nowhere in the world I’d be than by your side as you nurse him.”

Brittany has a fitful sleep and there’s nothing you can do to help her settle down. You stay up for most of the night because every time you’re near sleep she turns over and wakes you again. It concerns you how worried she is for her father and it concerns you what’s going to happen after his time comes. The threat of his impending death has hung over your home for months now, but seeing the condition he’s in has only made it more imminent. She will fall apart when he’s gone and you know that only you can pick up the pieces.

You get out of bed with Brittany before dawn and you make a pot of coffee, filling the Thermos for her to take with her out to sea. At the door, you kiss her goodbye and she remains in your embrace a bit longer than normal. You promise again that you’ll pack her things and you’ll leave food and water out for Lord Tubbington knowing it may be a few days before you can get back over here to feed him again. When she leaves, you sit at the table and eat an egg as you drink your coffee and then you dress for the day.

Though you won’t be far from home, you want to make things easier on Brittany, so you pack the things you’ll need for an extended period of time. You’re both simple enough that your things fit in two valises, so you will be able to carry them to Captain Pierce’s house on your own. Once it’s late enough in the morning, you begin your walk to his house, figuring you’ll be able to make him lunch. There’s so much more you wish that you could do for him, but for now you’ll simply have to settle for cooking his meals and straightening up his house.

“Ah, Miss Lopez, it’s so good of ya to come this mornin’. What’s with all the baggage?”

“Brittany wanted to stay back at home for awhile, sir, and I told her I’d keep you both company, if that’s alright with you.”

“I’d like to shoo ya right back to where ya come from, but I’m afraid I don’t have much of the strength to do that. Without a wife on this earth, I suppose I have no choice but to rely on Brittany.”

“I don’t believe you’d be able to keep her away if you tried, but I hope I’m not an imposition on you.”

“Seems like Brittany goes nowhere without ya these days. I suppose sendin’ ya off’d put her in a sour mood. Besides, ya cook like nobody’s business and I’d be a fool to shut ya out.”

“Then I suppose I’ll put these things up in Brittany’s old room?”

“Ya know where to find it?”

“I’ve stayed here before, during the hurricane, I’m certain I remember where it is.”

“Alright then, ya go ahead and make yourself comfortable. I’ll just be restin’ on the sofa.”

You carry the valises to Brittany’s old room and you settle in a little. You figure you ought to hang the clothes up to keep them from wrinkling in the bags, so you do that and you line the toiletries up on the bureau, not wanting to take up too much of Captain Pierce’s space in the bathroom. When you finish in the bedroom, you find Captain Pierce asleep on the sofa and you busy yourself, thinking it would do everyone well if you cleaned the house. After you’re through, you check in the kitchen to see what you can make for dinner, and when you realize there isn’t much, you make a trip to the store to gather up a few things. You worry about how Captain Pierce has been caring for himself, but you realize that now that the two of you are here, it won’t be a concern anymore.

By the time you finish up in the store, you see the Alcott coming in for the day and you wait on the dock, figuring you can walk back to the house with Brittany. She sees you from the deck and she waves down at you, big grin spreading across her face. It never gets old for either of you, meeting after she’s been out at sea, and when she finishes up on board and climbs down to meet you, she’s all smiles and bright eyes.

“I didn’t expect to see ya down here.”

“Your father was taking a nap and there wasn’t much in the house to make dinner with. I figured I ought to stock up on a few things for meals this week, that way no one will go hungry.”

“Well thank ya for that. Ya really are swell.”

“I’m just trying to make this an easier time for everyone. Part of the reason your father has agreed to let me stay is because I can cook.”

“Was he givin’ ya a hard time?”

“Not so much, he was mostly just teasing me. His spirits are good today, but he’s been sleeping for quite awhile.”

Brittany insists on taking the bags from you on your walk back to her father’s house and you don’t argue. You know she prefers to do things like that for you and how chivalrous she is makes you swoon. The house is still quiet when you get back inside, so you insist that Brittany go on and bathe while you put the groceries away and begin preparing the chicken that you plan to cook for dinner. She comes back to the kitchen dressed as you’re slicing carrots and onions and knowing that with her father asleep you’re as good as alone, she gently kisses your lips, letting it linger for a long while. It pains you how difficult this is for her, but you’ve vowed to her her strength, so you squeeze her hand and then resume preparing dinner.

“Pop’ll be glad ya decided to cook a chicken and I sure am too.”

“I know that you both prefer it to anything else I make, so I assumed it would do well to start out our time here in that way.”

“I feel as if this is all askin’ too much of ya.”

“You didn’t ask me to do this, Brittany. I insisted. This isn’t something that I want you to go through alone.”

“I feel like I’m about to burst into tears every time I see him. He doesn’t look like my big, strong Pop who used to lift me over his head whenever I’d wander in from wherever I found myself during the day.”

“It won’t do him well to see you like that, love. If you need to cry, do it alone with me, but let him see that you still see the strength he’s losing.”

“It just makes me ache inside.”

“Come here.” You set down your knife and wipe your hands on your apron before pulling Brittany into a tight embrace. “I wish I could take all the pain you feel right now.”

“Ya have done more than I could even ask for, just knowin’ I’ve got ya.”

The first week of staying with Captain Piece is relatively calm. He sleeps most of the day when you’re there alone with him and you take the time to go back to the house to feed Lord Tubbington, do the grocery shopping and sit outside and read a bit. Brittany tries to get him to do things when she comes home, but he doesn’t have the strength and she doesn’t push him. As much as she wants him to be his old self, she knows that he can’t, and the last thing she wants is for him to feel bad that he’s disappointed her.

One night after dinner, when the Captain has had a particularly good day, he takes up Brittany’s offer to walk on the beach with the two of you. Though it’s the end of July, he puts on a sweater that’s become too big for him, and the three of you walk down the wooden walkway until you reach the sand. He moves slow as you walk so you moderate your pace to accommodate him. You think that the salt air will be good for him and you share glances with Brittany, knowing that she’s happy he’s out of the house.

“Sure feels good to get my feed in the sand.” Captain Pierce says, pulling his sweater more tightly around himself. “I’d sure like to get another look at your house.”

“Are ya sure ya feel alright to walk that far, Pop?” Brittany asks.

“Hell, I’m havin’ a good day, I think I can make it down that way.”

“Alright then.” She smiles. “We sure have done a lot since ya saw it last.”

“Brittany, I’m real sorry I never had the time to devote to ya, and to Willy too. I never expected to have two kids to manage all on my own.”

“Pop...”

“Let me talk, will ya? I feel like it’s somethin’ I gotta say.”

“Alright.” She concedes, though she leans a little closer to you and your fingers itch to hold her hand.

“Perhaps I shoulda married again, gave you kids a mother, but your Mama was my whole heart and I couldn’t imagine replacing her in the house with someone I could never love as much. There were a lot of ladies who were itchin’ to come and help me and I think it would’ve been more fair to you and Willy if I’d let ‘em come.”

“If I’d had another mama, I’m sure she never woulda let me get on boats and learn to fish the way I have. Mary Ellen Karofsky sure wasn’t allowed to do that. I didn’t want for nothin’ when I was a kid, because ya worked real hard to give us what ya could. I don’t resent ya at all for not havin’ the time to be around much, Pop. It’s ‘cause of ya that I’m able to provide for myself. I love the life I’ve got.”

“Ya really don’t resent me?”

“Not at all, Pop. I love ya a whole lot, and I wish I was going to have more time with ya.” She wipes the tears that fall from her eyes and she stops to give her father a hug. “Ya really have been a good Pop.”

“Thank ya for saying that, Brittany. It sure means a lot to me.”

The three of you make it to your house, and though he struggles a little to get up the stairs, Captain Pierce marvels at the handiwork of his daughter. You really can’t take much credit for the home, besides the decorating, so you stand back and smile, watching your love beam as her father admires the sweat and the heart that she’s put into building the home where the two of you will grow old together. Again, you wonder if he suspects that you’re more than simply friends, but he has the courtesy not to question you. He knows that you’ll be there for his daughter when she loses him, and truly, in what capacity it doesn’t matter.

When you return home from your long walk, Captain Pierce goes right to bed. You and Brittany listen to the radio for a bit, and then you lie face to face in her small bed for a long while, not talking, just being. It seems like more often than not these days, that’s what she needs, so you give it to her. You hold her in your arms, you press your nose to hers and you look into her eyes, promising with every fiber of your being that you love her, that you’d do anything for her, that you’ll be her rock when her world begins to crumble around her.

You wake up with Brittany the next morning and you make her coffee and breakfast. As much as she tells you she’s capable of doing it on her own, you really enjoy cooking for her before she goes off to work and you figure you’ll make Captain Pierce breakfast before long anyway, since he’s an early riser too.

“Santana?”

“Hmm?”

“I really am glad ya suggested that walk last night. It was nice for me to talk to my Pop without playin’ cards or listenin’ to the radio.”

“It seems as if he had quite a bit to say to you.”

“I know he’s just sayin’ these things now because he’s about to pass on, but we’ve gone most of my life without talkin’ and it just...feels real important.”

“He seems like he’s loved you as best as he knew how. I’m not sure my father would have been able to care for the girls and I had we lost my mother.”

“The burden would have fell to ya, I’m sure. Ya already helped your Mama so much as it was.”

“That’s fair enough, but you and William were so young, it amazes me that a father on his own was able to care for you. Even if you were raised rather...uniquely, you grew into one of the finest women there is.”

“Even if I act like a boy sometimes?”

“I love you for the woman you are.” You shake your head, smiling at her. “And you’re going to be late for work.”

“I’ll see ya this afternoon. Perhaps we can get Pop to go have dinner at the bar tonight.”

“That’ll be nice.” You nod. “I’ll work on convincing him while you’re gone.”

You kiss her goodbye and you stand at the door, watching her walk down to where the Alcott is docked. When you go back inside, you set a plate of breakfast in the warm oven for Captain Pierce and you beginning cleaning up from breakfast. He doesn’t come out by the time you’re through, and though that’s odd for him, you assume that the walking last night must have gotten to him and caused him to sleep late. After you read for a bit though and he still hasn’t come out, you find yourself full of concern. You knock on the door to his room and he weakly calls out for you to enter. Once you’re inside, you see that his breathing is labored and it sends a jolt of fear through you. Considering how well he seemed last night, you hadn’t expected for him to take a turn like this, and you quickly rush to his side.

“Captain Pierce! Are you alright?”

“Just havin’...a bit of trouble breathing.” He whispered, his voice hoarse. “It ought to...be better soon.”

“I think you need a doctor, sir. Will you be alright if I go call for one?”

“Call for Chang’s oldest son. He’s...not my doctor, but...he’s closest.”

Panic sets in as you leave Captain Pierce’s side and run to the bar to call for Michael Chang’s older brother. He answers the phone and you tell him that Brittany’s father can barely breathe. He promises to come quickly, but you worry that it won’t be quick enough. With Brittany out as sea, you can’t let her know what is happening and given the grim appearance of her father, you wonder if she won’t be home too late. After last night, you hadn’t expected him to die so quickly, but now you’re full of concern that he could take his last breath any moment.

You return to the house and you sit at Captain Pierce’s bedside while you wait for Dr. Chang to arrive. When he does, you’re shocked by how young he is and you understand why Captain Pierce would go to the mainland to see a doctor he had probably been seeing for decades before Dr. Chang got his medical license. You step out of the room to give them privacy and you find yourself crying in the kitchen, afraid of what will happen when Brittany returns home. You’ve promised to be her strength, but now that the time for that seems imminent, you fear you’ll be inadequate. She needs you to hold her up, she needs to you tell her everything is going to be alright and you wipe your face, promising that you won’t allow her to see you as a blubbering mess.

“Miss Lopez.” Dr. Chang steps out of the bedroom. “I’ve given him some morphine pills. As far as he’s told me, his cancer has far progressed and there’s little else I can do for him.”

“How long does he have? Brittany won’t be home for several hours.”

“It could be any time now, but it could be as long as a week. I’ll go meet Brittany when the Alcott comes in and have a conversation with her, I know you’re doing quite a bit for this family, but perhaps I should be the one who tells her the prognosis.”

“Okay.” You nod, though you think perhaps you’re taking the coward’s way out not telling her yourself. “There’s truly nothing else?”

“The morphine will take away his pain.”

Though you wonder if perhaps Captain Pierce would like the dignity of being alone, you return to his bedside with a glass of water after Dr. Chang leaves. You can’t bring yourself to leave him alone, so you sit there as he wheezes and falls in and out of fitful sleeps. Though you’d ordinarily read while he was asleep, you can’t manage to do it so you just sit vigil at his bedside, both waiting for and dreading the moment Brittany has to come home and see her father in this state.

“She’s an odd girl.” Captain Pierce mumbles in a half awake state. “Do ya know that about her?”

“Brittany?”

“It’s small enough ‘round here that they talk.” He seems to not respond to you, but keeps talking. “She fancies the company of other gals.”

You freeze at his words, though you know he’s not quite lucid. Brittany’s father seemed so oblivious to everything that went on, but yet here he lays, mumbling that his daughter fancies the company of other girls. You had never expected anyone to say such things out loud, especially her father, but he knows, and he doesn’t seem...angered by it.

“Don’t feign that ya fancy her if ya don’t. She’ll have had enough heartbreak when I’m gone.”

“I won’t hurt her, Captain Pierce. I...fancy her as well.” You admit, barely above a whisper.

“I don’t quite understand it, gals fancyin’ other gals, who who’m I to judge?”

Captain Pierce falls back into a fitful sleep and you’re left stunned by the words he said. Never would you have suspected that words like that could be said, but he said them to you and you feel a sense of...validation from hearing them. Brittany’s father will die knowing that his daughter was loved, as odd as that love may me, and you hope that it gives Brittany a sense of peace knowing that he truly knew her in a way so few are able to.

You hold your book in your lap while he sleeps, but you just watch him, fearful that he’ll stop breathing before Brittany makes it home. With each rise and fall of his chest, you feel as if you can breathe. You hear the front door open and you slowly stand, thinking that you should go to Brittany before she has to come in here and see her father in such a state.

“Santana.” She breathes, pulling you into her tearful embrace as she walks through the door. “What happened?”

“I don’t know.” You shake your head. “You spoke to Dr. Chang?”

“I’ve known Guy since we were just kids, how’m I supposed to believe that he knows what he’s talking about?”

“Brittany.”

“We oughta take him to the mainland, have his doc look at him.” Tears stream down Brittany’s face and she sounds frantic. “He was just fine last night.”

“I know.” You hold her close and let her cry. “I’ve seen patients in my father’s office take a turn for the worst like that.”

“What do ya think I should do? Ya know more about doctorin’ than I do. Do ya think we should get him on the ferry and take him across?”

“I think...” You breathe, steeling yourself. “That you ought to spend as much time with your father as you can right now, and now put his body through the unneeded stress of traveling when he’s in this state.”

When Brittany goes into her father’s bedroom, she doesn’t keep the pretense of being strong. She openly weeps at his side holding his hand and she murmurs things to him that you can’t hear. You leave her there, not wanting to disturb their time together and you sweep the floors, bringing the sand from last night back outside. In between chores, you peek in to see her resting her head in her hands but as much as you want to go to her, you understand that this is a time she needs to be alone with him.

After you cook dinner, you bring a plate into Brittany, who sits stoic. She’s still in her dirty fishing clothes and she doesn’t even notice as you enter the room. Slowly, you sit down beside her and you offer up the plate, not surprised when she shakes her head that she doesn’t want it.

“I can’t eat right now, Santana. I can’t do anything but watch him.”

“I wish so strongly that I could do something for you, anything.”

“Being in the house with me makes it feel less lonely. Do ya think he was mad that I left him all alone when I went and built our house.”

“I think...I think he wanted you to be happy. He knew that you had feelings for me.”

“What?” She turns her head slowly and you nod.

“He asked me not to hurt you.”

“How could be know such a thing when we go to such pains to keep it between us?”

“I suppose he heard from others of you dancing at Cherry Grove and made an assumption that I was one of the girls you fancied. He said he had no place to judge.”

“I could have been open with him that I saw ya as my wife.” She sniffles, wiping her tears on her dirty shirt sleeve.

“I think he knows enough, Brittany. But perhaps when he wakes up again, you could tell him that.”

“Ya don’t mind? I know ya really care about keeping our love private.”

“I told you father that I fancied you too.” You breathe, stroking through her long blonde hair. “I wanted him to know that you were loved and that he wouldn’t be leaving you alone in this world.”

“Sweetheart, ya didn’t have to do that, I know it makes ya uncomfortable.”

“I was comfortable doing it.” You shake your head. “Why don’t you bathe and change and I’ll sit here for a little bit.”

“I’m so scared something’ll happen while I’m gone.”

“You’ll just be down the hallway, I’ll come for you f he needs you.”

It takes a bit more convincing, but you manage to get Brittany to leave her father’s bedside. When she comes out, dressed more comfortably, you even get her to eat a little. She asks you to sit with her for a while and you do, giving her soft touches while she holds her father’s hands and hopes for him to wake up. She asks you to pray for him because she doesn’t know how, so you say the Lord’s Prayer over him and you touch the cross around your neck. You believe that God has a plan, even if it’s not the plan you wish for, but you’re certain that Brittany is hoping that your prayers will awaken her father and cure him of the disease that’s ravaged his body.

“Ya should go to sleep.” She tells you, when it’s long past the time you would ordinarily go to bed.

“I don’t want to leave you here.”

“I think I’d like to be alone with him a bit, if ya don’t mind.”

“If that’s what you’d like, I’ll leave you to it.”

After you bathe, you go into the bedroom and you lie down. It takes you a long while before you can fall asleep, both from how strange it feels to be lying in bed without Brittany and from how concerned you are about Captain Pierce. You know that she never comes to bed though and when you wake up in the morning, her space beside you is cold. You dress quickly and when you get to the kitchen, a pot of coffee is made and Brittany sits at the table, head in her hands, sobs wracking her body.

“Brittany.” You wrap your arms around her from behind and she stands up, knees giving out once she grasps you. “Oh, Brittany.”

“He’s gone, Santana, he’s gone.”

“Shhhh, shhh, I’ve got you, my love.”

#brittana #Fire Island AU #1940s Fire Island #starlight!verse

[shadow-light19]

I’ll Give You The Moon: Part 2

Rewritten as of 8/7/20

Notes: The final part of this story. Natssketches made the most beautiful drawing of the Launchpad and Donald from the last chapter and it's wonderful. Please go check them out on their Tumblr if you like this story. I based Scrooge’s reaction at the Money Bin on his personality in the original duck comics. Natssketches made another fanart of this story that I absolutely adore! Honestly, though, I adore all of their art. It's all beautiful! I based Scrooge’s reaction at the Money Bin on his personality in the original duck comics.

Summary: Launchpad has a talk with Scrooge that goes better than it should've, Donald gets some weight off his shoulders, Launchpad is a good caretaker, and the kids ship it.

Part 1: https://shadow-light19.tumblr.com/post/172435439262/ill-give-you-the-moon-part-1

Natssketches tumblr: https://natssketches.tumblr.com/

Artwork: https://natssketches.tumblr.com/post/172436691640/aw-hey-theres-this-cute-fanfiction-called-ill

Launchpad placed all of the supplies at the door of the mansion before heading out to the money bin. He hoped that his boss would be reasonable and allow Donald the rest of the day off, but it never hurt to gain a little extra favor by having everything prepared. Everything except the last few items was now ready to be loaded onto the plane in the morning. Launchpad parked the car and hurried up the steps of the money bin to Scrooge's office. He gave a quick knock, thankful when his boss replied immediately. When Launchpad stepped in, he could see that Scrooge was currently working on some documents. He stopped long enough to take note of who entered before going back to writing. “Launchpad? What are ye doing here? I assume ye went with me nephew to get the supplies, yes?”

“That's actually why I came by, Mr. McDee. We got most of the stuff, and I already put it by the door.” Launchpad

Scrooge glared at Launchpad. He waved Launchpad away with his hand as he continued filling out paperwork. “What do ye mean by 'most of the stuff'? And where’s that lazy nephew of mine? Decided to nae report in with ye? I’ll have words with him for that!”

The pilot became visibly annoyed at Scrooge's dismissal and harsh words for his friend. He took a deep breath to calm down. “Actually, Donald is taking the rest of the day off. I drove him home because he’s sick.”

“WHAT?!” Scrooge bellowed. He grabbed his cane and stood up from his seat. “What do ye mean that deadbeat is taking the day off?! I oughta fire that bum for leaving without permission. And furthermore, since when did ye have the authority to dismiss him from work?!” He pointed the cane at Launchpad’s face, “I oughta fire ye for ye disrespect McQuack!” On his last word, Scrooge slammed the end of his cane onto the ground. It made a resounding thump.

Now Launchpad usually thought of himself as everyone's friend. You could insult him to his face, and he'd only get mildly upset. But Donald was his friend, and he was not going to stand by and let his uncle badmouth him for taking care of himself. He glared at his boss, chest puffed slightly in anger. “Now listen here, Mr. McDuck! This is your nephew you’re talking about, not some random employee in your business. As his uncle, you should’ve noticed that he wasn’t feeling well when he came in and when you visited him earlier. Now I see why Donny refused to go home until I made him. If he had come to you, you would’ve snapped at him and made him continue working until he passed out from his fever. I respect you, Mr. McDuck, but not when you treat your family so poorly! If this is how you always treat him, then I understand why Donald doesn’t get along with you!” Scrooge stared at Launchpad, mouth agape. Launchpad’s shoulders stopped heaving with anger and his face morphed from rage to horror. “M-Mr. McDee! I’m so sorry! I don’t know what came over me!”

Scrooge held his hand up, and Launchpad flinched at the motion. “No Launchpad, I’m sorry. Yer right. I am harsher on Donald then I should be. I care about him very much, but I’m not good at showing it in the slightest. However, donnae EVER talk to me like that again. Are we clear?” Launchpad took his hat off and nodded vigorously. Scrooge smiled at the acknowledgment before pointing his cane at the door. “Good then. Now get back to work. Aye’ll call ye when aye am ready to head home.”

Launchpad walked out of the office, and the second the door closed, collapsed against it. “… I can’t believe I just yelled at Scrooge McDuck…” His heart was hammering in his chest. He truly couldn't believe he had just done that. But thinking of Donald, miserably walking through the stores with him and collapsing on the couch due to exhaustion, Launchpad knew he would do it again in a heartbeat. Launchpad took a moment to calm down before getting up. He still had to go to that last store, and he needed to make sure that he was done before Scrooge called for him.

  Launchpad had no other incidents for the rest of the day. On occasion, he called Mrs. Beakley to see how Donald was doing. It worried him that Donald seemed to be worse every time he called. The worry was beginning to eat at him, but Scrooge had finally called to say he was done for the day. Launchpad had sighed in relief since he could check up on Donald himself. Upon seeing his boss exit the building, he opened the door for Scrooge and then hopped into the driver’s seat. While the separator was open, Launchpad wasn’t in the mood to chat with Scrooge, like he usually did. A small part of him was still upset about Scrooge’s behavior as well as worried about Donald’s health. However, Scrooge seemed to pick up on the tense atmosphere.“Uhh… How’s me nephew doing?” Scrooge awkwardly asked.

“Not very well, Mr. McDee. He’s gotten worse. Mrs. Beakley is trying her best, but it’s not helping much.” Launchpad kept his eyes on the road. For once, his driving wasn’t reckless in the slightest. That unsettled Scrooge a little.

'He really is sick… Well, I bet with some rest he’ll be just fine in the mornin’.' Scrooge went back to reading the newspaper. He was surprised that Launchpad was so worried about Donald. He wondered briefly how long the two had been friends. WIth a sigh, Scrooge went back to focusing on his paper, and the rest of the drive was quiet.

When they finally made it to the mansion, Launchpad was quick to park the car upfront by the steps. Scrooge was surprised when Launchpad turned the limo off. “What is the meaning of this?” Scrooge asked in surprise as Launchpad opened the door for him. He stepped out, further confused when Launchpad closed the door and started walking up the steps.

“I promised Donny I would check in on him after work, so I’ll probably stay and visit for a while.” Scrooge raised his eyebrows in surprise. Since when were they that close? He huffed and made his way up the stairs as well.

It wouldn't hurt to have someone else helping his nephew with his cold, and it would give Mrs. Beakley a break. “Alright then, just don’t break anything.”

Mrs. Beakley promptly opened the door for them when they arrived. With a nod of thanks, Scrooge went off to his study while Launchpad stayed behind to talk to Mrs. Beakley. “How’s he doing, Mrs. B?”

Mrs. Beakley frowned at him as she led the way to the kitchen. Launchpad was hoping for some good news, but it didn't seem like that was going to happen. “He was getting better for a little bit, but then his fever spiked again. I moved him to his bedroom so that he would be more comfortable, but if he gets any worse, I will have to call a doctor.” Yeah, that's what he was worried about.

Launchpad sighed, taking his hat off and brushing his hand through his hair. “Was he able to eat anything today?”

The maid shook her head. They didn't often spend time together, but she thought of Donald as a friend. She was worried about how poorly the duck seemed to be doing. “He ate a little but not the amount I wanted him to. I gave him some medicine and placed a wet cloth on his forehead. I’ll take you to his room in a moment. I want to grab another tray of soup and a cup of tea with honey.”

When they entered the kitchen, Launchpad noticed the kids sitting at the dining room table and walked over. “Hey, kids! What are you up to?”

They all looked up at him and tackled him to the floor in a hug. "Launchpad!"

“Aww! I missed you guys too!” Launchpad laughed as he patted a couple of the kids on their heads. They smiled and helped Launchpad up.

“We’re making get-well cards for Uncle Donald!” Dewey animatedly waved his arms around. Launchpad looked over at the table, noticing the crayons and markers scattered all over it. “We were surprised to see him when we got home from school and Mrs. Beakley told us he wasn’t feeling well and we thought that he might like a card so Webby went and grabbed all her craft stuff and we’ve been here since working on them!”

Huey rolled his eyes, his fond smile being the only give away that he wasn’t annoyed at his brother’s rambling. Launchpad laughed at Dewey's enthusiasm before gesturing to the door. “I’m about to head up with Mrs. B to see how your Uncle’s doing and give him his dinner. You should head up now so that you can give it to him before we get there, and Mrs. B shoos you all out.” Launchpad ruffled the feathers on Dewey’s head. The kids nodded, grabbed their cards, and rushed out of the room.

Launchpad heard the sounds of ceramic on metal and turned around. Mrs. Beakley was placing the last of Donald’s dinner on the tray. He offered to carry it for her, but she shook her head. “Thank you, Launchpad, but I'm sure you've had a tiring day. I can handle the tray. Now, let me show you to Donald's room.”

  When Mrs. Beakley and Launchpad arrived at Donald’s room, the duck was already awake and chatting with his kids. Launchpad noticed all the cards were standing up on Donald’s bedside table. The sick duck was holding the kids on his lap while Webby explained some event at school. “So after that, the teacher said I should join the gymnastics team! I think it’ll be super fun! I’ll get to wear a sparkly leotard and do awesome flips and twirls!”

Donald chuckled as her eyes sparkled with joy. “I’m sure you’re gonna love it, Webby.” Launchpad winced at his voice. Donald's voice sounded hoarse and pained.

Mrs. Beakley decided that was a good time to interrupt and walked up to the small group. “Alright children, it’s time for Donald to eat. I don’t want you all getting sick, so go work on your homework and leave your uncle to rest.” The kids all groaned. They gave him one more hug before sliding off the bed and walking out. Mrs. Beakley set the tray down on Donald’s lap and turned to Launchpad. "Could you make sure he eats as much as he can, Launchpad?” Mrs. Beakley flashed him a sly look as she continued. “I’m sure he’ll listen to you better than he’d listen to me.” Launchpad chuckled and sat down on the bed. He figured she meant since they were good friends, and he'd managed to convince Donald to stay at home earlier.

“No problemo Mrs. B! I’ll take care of him.” The pilot waved at Mrs. Beakley as she closed the door behind her. Launchpad turned his attention back to Donald. He was struggling to eat the soup in front of him. His hands were shaky, most likely from his exhaustion. Launchpad wondered if Donald would yell at him for helping him eat, but ultimately decided it was worth the risk. “Here, let me.” Launchpad took the spoon out of Donald’s shaking hand, blew on it, and then held it up to Donald’s beak. Donald hesitated a moment and then slowly sipped the soup. Launchpad filled the spoon again.

“You really don’t have to do this, Launchpad. I can take care of myself, you know?” Donald protested, laying his hand on top of Launchpad’s and keeping the spoon in the soup.

Launchpad gently grabbed Donald's hand and moved it to the bed. “I already told you, Donny, you don’t have to anymore. I don’t like watching you suffer in silence. And I care about you a lot, so please let me take care of you.”

Donald’s eyes started watering. “Why do you care so much? Besides the kids and a select few, no one really cares about me. You see how Scrooge treats me; even Gladstone treats me better than he does.” The former sailor wasn’t one to talk about his private issues aloud, but the cold was affecting his filter. Launchpad sighed and stared at the soup. He was always really nice to Donald, and he enjoyed being around the duck. But it wasn't fully because of their friendship like he usually let people believe. The truth was, Launchpad was in love with Donald. He loved everything about the passionate, hard-working duck that cared about his family and friends. The kind duck that would jump into danger without a second thought to protect his loved ones. Launchpad wasn't one to lie, though. Frankly, he was horrible at it, and Donald deserved to know the truth.

“… I really like you, Donny.” Donald blinked in surprise. He tilted his head in confusion as he tried to process Launchpad's confession.

“W-what?” Launchpad sighed and moved the tray to the bedside table. He turned back to Donald, hugged him close.

“I really like you. I like adventuring with you and working with you. You care so much about your family that even though you don’t get along with Gladstone and Mr. McD, you’re still willing to help them. You work your tail off for those kids, and I often forget Webby isn’t your niece. You treat her like she was always one of your kids.” Launchpad could feel Donald's body tense before the sick duck cautiously wrapped his arms around him. Already more vulnerable from being sick, Donald couldn't stop himself from crying at the sweet words that Launchpad said. He had always sorta liked the pilot too. He was kind to everyone, slow to anger, and always nice to his kids. He buried his face in Launchpad’s shoulder. Donald knew why he liked Launchpad, but he couldn't fathom why the pilot liked Donald.

“I have a horrid temper. I can never do anything right, and I've lost so many jobs; I was worried I’d never be hired again. If it wasn’t for the houseboat blowing up, the kids and I would still be living in poverty. Scrooge provides for them, not me.” Launchpad comfortingly rubbed Donald’s back. It didn't matter to Launchpad that Donald still considered himself as poor. He didn't make much money either. What mattered to him was that Donald was a great duck.

“Your temper is a part of you, Donny. You’ve got more control of it then you think. I hardly ever see you lose it at work when Scrooge piles you high with tasks or makes a rude comment. Besides that, you gave everything you could for your nephews, and they know it. Living with Scrooge isn’t shameful like you think it is. He needed it. I think the boss was always so cold to everyone because he was lonely. You and the kids have really changed him for the better.” Launchpad really was too kind. Donald just cried harder.

Launchpad was content to just hold Donald. He knew the duck didn't have the greatest self-confidence, so he was determined to let him get all his pent-up emotions out. When Donald was thoroughly drained, he pulled out of the embrace. It meant a lot to him that Launchpad was here. The sick duck looked over at the tray and saw the soup, still full. “I should try to eat the rest of this.”

The pilot felt the underside of the bowl. “It’s pretty cold. Lemme go downstairs and re-heat it.” Launchpad stood up and grabbed the tray. “You know Donald,” Launchpad paused at the doorway. The other duck stared at him curiously, waiting for him to continue. “I’ll give you the moon.”

Donald chuckled, “That was random. You can’t give me that, and besides, what made you say that?”

“I'm sure that I'm not as good as you, but I can steer a ship. I know how much the moon and stars mean to a sailor.” Launchpad walked back over to Donald and set the tray down again. He sat on the bed and leaned forward until their foreheads were touching. Donald was blushed at the motion, still getting used to the idea that Launchpad liked him romantically. “So, I’ll give you the moon. I’ll help you when you need it and stand beside you when you can handle it yourself. I’ll support you through every storm and guide you back to shore.”

Donald chuckled. He never would've thought of Launchpad as a total romantic. “And I’ll drag you back down when you start to fly too far into the sky.” Donald leaned forward and kissed Launchpad. When they broke apart, Donald’s eyes went wide with realization, blushing even harder. “It’s already late, so why don’t you spend the night? There’s a spare bedroom next door.” The sick duck looked away, flustered.

Launchpad laughed at how cute his love was being. “Sure thing Donny! Now let me go heat this up.”

  When the kids woke up the next morning, the first thing they did was check on Donald. They wanted to see if he was feeling better. However, none of them were expecting the sight they got. Donald was asleep on his bed with Launchpad beside him. Launchpad was sleeping on top of the covers, one arm wrapped around their uncle, and Donald was sleeping under the covers, with his head and a hand on Launchpad’s chest. The kids looked at each other before silently closing the door. The group walked stoically to the living room and then sat down on the floor. They took a deep breath at the same time.

“OH MY GOD!” “DID YOU SEE THAT?!” “THAT IS SO CUTE!” “WHEN DID THIS HAPPEN?!”

Mrs. Beakley, who was cleaning the hallway, rushed into the room at their shouts. “What’s wrong?!” She calmed down when she saw the kids on the floor.

Webby smushed her checks with her hands. “It’s so cute, Granny! Donald and Launchpad are together! Like 'dating' together!"

Huey, Dewey, and Louie jumped up and started bouncing where they stood. “This is great! Do you know what that means?” Mrs. Beakley smirked as Dewey interrupted.

“Not only is Launchpad our Uncle now,” Louie flashed a grin at his brothers.

“But, we need to plan a date for them!” Huey finished with a squeal at the end of his sentence.

Webby squealed as well! She scooped the brothers into a group hug. “Ohmigosh, yes! We’ll get walkie-talkies and pretend to have something to do so that we can follow them on their date and get grossed out at the romantic stuff! Granny, can you help us plan?” She let go of her friends and ran over to her grandmother.

Mrs. Beakley smiled at their antics. She knew from how concerned Launchpad had been that there was more going on. Thankfully, it seemed like Launchpad had finally said something. “If I must. For now, let’s head to the dining room. Breakfast is ready, and you guys need to eat before school.”

As the kids were herded into the dining room, Scrooge ducked his head back into the hallway unnoticed. He had come to investigate the yelling as well but was still in the hallway when he heard Webby’s explanation. “That explains yesterday.” Scrooge chuckled as he headed back to his study. “Aye nephew, you’ve found a good one.”

#ducktales #ducktales fanfiction #donald duck #dad donald #Donald/Launchpad #launchpad mcquack #scrooge mcduck #Huey Dewey and Louie #webby vanderquack #Ducktales Family Fic Challenge #bentina beakley

[tahlreth]

Are you still doing prompt requests? If so, post CW prompt for you: Steve learns that Bucky got transferred to Tony's care [willingly to get help] and when Steve returns after signing the accords Steve thinks that his and Tony's relationship is just going to pick up again, but Tony and Bucky are in a relationship now and Bucky is not too fond of the old Avengers and the bull they used to put Tony through and he's not having it happen again on his watch. And the Winter Soldier is very protective

AN: Only took me for fucking ever, but I finally did the thing. I’ve started about six different versions, and this one was sitting on my computer, half done, for like three months. ^.^; But I’m reasonably happy with how it came out, so there’s that. XD It got pretty long, so do beware the cut!

They hadn’t been anything - not officially, not really. There’d been looks, touches, smiles… all kinds of little things that meant they’d been on the same page. They’d never talked about it, hadn’t kissed or declared their feelings openly, but there’d been something there. Steve had known it since he’d felt relief, hot and bright and real burning inside of him after that first fight in New York, when (thank God thank God thank God) Tony wasn’t dead after all. The smile that had crawled over Steve’s face when he saw Tony jolt awake after the Hulk’s roar felt like he first smile that had been on his face since… since Bucky fell. Tony was loud and flashy, all the worst bits of this ‘modern’ time combined into one in-your-face package. On him though, Steve liked the look. He’d thought about trying to get to know Tony right away, had almost been brave enough to just ask him out for dinner or coffee or something, but then…

Then Tony had smiled at him, and the expression was so soft. It was warm and patient, and Steve had just known that Tony would wait for him. He could go see this new America to try and wrap his head around it, and Tony would be in New York City when he got back. When they shook goodbye, both their hands lingered far longer than they’d needed to. The air between them had been charged, and he’d almost changed his mind again until Tony had quietly said 'enjoy yourself, Cap - come tell me all about your road trip when it’s done’. Tony would be waiting for him so he knew he really could go.

He didn’t blame Tony for leaving for Malibu after Steve agreed to temporarily move to DC when Fury asked. Tony’s company was important - they were both working hard, but they still saw each other when they could. Those not-quite-dates were some of the things Steve cherished most about the brave new world he found himself in. At the end of them, Tony would always make a mention of how he’d be waiting for Steve. Nothing explicit, nothing that specifically said they were going to end up together, but they’d both had known what it meant. It was almost better than a kiss to say goodbye before they had the time to really be something to each other.

Yeah, maybe he’d flirted a little with the blonde who turned out to be part of SHIELD. And maybe Tony had seemed genuinely hurt by the way Steve hadn’t asked for his assistance, but none of it meant anything. He was glad Tony was alright after his brush with the Mandarin… and he was also glad Tony hadn’t tried to call him in. Steve would have dropped everything to go help out - he was sure he would have - but having to decide between the man who was waiting for him and the Strike team that he’d thought needed him would have been uncomfortable.

Tony was so good at making sure Steve was comfortable.

Having to choose Bucky over Tony had cut like a knife to the heart, but he’d done it. He’d known that once Tony cooled down, he’d realize that Steve still cared. It was just that Tony would wait and Bucky couldn’t. Once he got his best friend’s head on straight, Steve vowed to himself that he’d go to the guy who he’d left standing in the wings for so long. Lingering looks and hands that slid down his arm in subtle caresses weren’t enough any more. Almost losing Tony had forced him to resort his priorities - SHIELD was gone and Bucky was safe. Sharon was swell and all, but he’d kissed her more because he’d been hurting over Peggy than anything.

Peggy had waited for him too, though maybe not as long as Tony had. She’d known he wasn’t coming back, after all, and Tony knew (surely he knew) that Steve would always return. Sharon had just been there, available and willing, and Steve had just needed someone. His guy wouldn’t begrudge him that. Not when they’d been so close to being something, not when Steve was finally able to take that final step to turn 'waiting’ into 'having’.

The way Tony sent for Bucky so he could help Steve’s best friend only proved that. He was willing to help a man who’d been brainwashed into killing his parents because it was important to Steve. It was an admission that he’d been wrong to get so upset in Siberia. He was letting Steve know that he’d taken his letter to heart, had realized that Steve was right, and was ready to take steps towards getting back together. Or getting together for the first time, really, at least in a romantic sense.

As soon as he got to go home, Steve was going to claim his guy. Tony had waited for him long enough.

~.~.~

“-might come straight here, James. We really should stop–”

“C'mon, Tony. We don’t have anything to hide. We don’t gotta stop being us just because they’re back.”

Steve had stopped cold at the sound of Bucky’s voice, mostly because it was coming from inside Tony’s workshop. FRIDAY had refused to tell him that’s where Tony was, but he hadn’t really needed the AI to tell him. When he hadn’t been there to greet the returning Avengers (a woman named Danvers had instead, looking grim and serious and like she packed a whallop), Steve had assumed he’d been busy. Maybe it wasn’t the best choice he could have made, but Tony had always had a way of getting lost in his inventions at the worst times. So while Steve was a bit irritated, he was also feeling kind of fond of the genius. He’d even been thinking that maybe he really should have gotten flowers to bring. Nat had sounded more scathing than serious when she’d given the suggestion, but maybe he still should have followed it.

So he hadn’t been surprised to hear Tony in his workshop; what he had been surprised by was the presence of some guy named 'James’. He didn’t even connect that to Bucky until he’d heard his best friend speak - hearing him talking to Tony was extremely jarring and kind of upsetting. Steve hadn’t been upset at all not to see Tony when he stepped back onto the compound’s soil - he’d just figured that Buck wasn’t ready to be around so many people. But now… now it seemed like they’d been together and had maybe intentionally skipped his homecoming. He felt his stomach sink and a cold ball of hurt curl up in his chest - his best friend and his guy hadn’t been there to welcome him back.

But maybe they’d been working on Bucky’s arm, he tried to tell himself - not that it was really working. Maybe some kind of maintenance had been needed, and they’d had to do it just then. Tony and Buck were working together on his arm or Buck’s mental state - that’s why they were an 'us’.

Steve needed that to be why they were an 'us’.

“Listen, Cold Snap,” Tony sounded amused despite the command in his words, and something in Steve was aching even if he didn’t know exactly why. “I’m not saying we have to go into hiding or pretend we’re just friends or anything like that.” 'Just friends’… that could mean anything. Anything at all. Maybe they were… were best friends, which would hurt but be bearable. He could understand that even if he didn’t like it. Or maybe they were bitter enemies? It didn’t sound like it, but… but they could be. They weren’t… Tony had been waiting for him. “What I am saying is that maybe we don’t rub it in anyone’s face before they’ve settled in.”

“'N I’m vetoing that, so.”

“You don’t just get to veto things, my darling snow bunny. That’s not how this works.”

“Prove it,” his best friend countered, making Steve’s heart sink to about the level of his shoes. That was Bucky’s playful, flirty tone of voice - he wouldn’t use that on a bitter enemy or a new best friend. He oughta turn the last corner and let them know he was there. He should barge in and demand they explain themselves. Steve should go and ask Tony why he’d stopped waiting, why he’d started ignoring the 'something’ that was between them, and why the fuck he’d dragged Bucky into the middle of it. “When it comes to dumb decisions you’re about ta make, I get veto power. You get veto power when I’m bein’ dumb. ’S fair.”

“Ugh. If you say so, Cold Snap. Veto powers all around. So… to clarify. We’re gonna just–”

“Keep cuddling on the couch for movies, keep bitching fondly at each other when we’re in charge of cooking dinner, and go right on kissing whenever the hell we feel like it.”

Steve hadn’t fainted for anything other than injury-related reasons since the serum, but he still recognized the warning signs when they hit him. His vision tunneled as tingles cold enough to hurt shot through his limbs. Everything sounded distant, the world falling away and leaving him reeling. He didn’t realize that last bit was literal until he slammed into the wall and went down hard, didn’t realize he was gasping for air until he was dangerously close to passing out. He fought his lungs and emotions, doing his best to take deep, even breaths - he was not going to faint. This had to be… it was a misunderstanding. Maybe… maybe FRIDAY had told them he was coming and they were playing a prank. Maybe his world wasn’t really crumbling under his feet.

The fact that neither of them had come running when he’d fallen undermined that theory though. And why hadn’t they? If Steve could hear them, then they had to have heard him. Unless… FRIDAY had been incredibly curt with him, bordering on rude. Maybe she’d piped the conversation from the closed workshop to where Steve was, just to hurt him. He shouldn’t be so surprised that another of Tony’s AIs was kind of evil.

“-go up for dinner,” he heard when he managed to zone back in to the conversation. “I think it’s Rhodey’s turn to cook, so it’s going to be amazing. Especially if Hope helps, since she’s a lot better with vegetables and other junk like that. My sour patch can make a mean piece of meat - stop giggling, fuck, are you twelve? - and he’s great with baking, but vegetables defeat him. To the point where it’s embarrassing. He cried over some zucchini once. I mean, it was right before this girl that he looooooved was coming over for dinner and it was finals week - which was a lot of fun at MIT in the engineering department, let me tell you. A lot of people cried. I never did, but that was mostly because I was drunk or high pretty much twenty-four-seven. Finals are pretty much a non-issue when you’re that fucked up. Still aced all of them though, because I am a genius. Anyway, Rhodey wasn’t as blissfully transcended from this mortal coil as I was, so he was freaking the fuck out about passing his finals. So I guess it was more than the zucchini that made him cry, but still. Ever since then he’s pretty much avoided vegetables like the plague. Is zucchini even a vegetable though? I think I remember that it’s like tomatoes and cucumbers - I knew the tomatoes one, but finding out cucumbers are technically a fruit blew my mind, let me tell you.”

Tony babbling had always been equal parts annoying and endearing for Steve; listening to it just then sent pain lancing through his heart. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed it, or the sound of tinkering and electronics that so often provided background 'music’ for the man’s happy tumbling of words. He wondered if Bucky really listened, or if he tuned in and out like Steve had always done. He wondered if Bucky appreciated it, or if he only found it annoying.

He needed to see them.

“So I think zucchini might fall into that same 'why the fuck isn’t this a vegetable’ territory,” he probably should be tuning Tony out as he tried to stand, but he couldn’t quite make himself. “Probably botanists all through history have been conspiring to drive us all crazy with their nonsensical classifications.”

“Not all of us,” Buck interjected as Steve regained his feet, still using that playful tone of voice that he hadn’t heard in over seventy years. “Just you. Even at the dawn of science, people were lookin’ for ways ta piss you off. You specifically.”

“Whatever, Evergreen. Just for that you’re sleeping on the couch tonight.”

“Even if ya do make me, you’ll just join me a few hours later anyway. Better not - you’re old enough that your back won’t be happy about it.”

They kept teasing each other while Steve made his wobbly way to the workshop. Once he turned that last corner, the conversation suddenly cut out - FRIDAY had been letting him hear it. Like it had been in the tower, the workshop was surrounded by what looked like clear glass. It was actually something else, something stronger… but Steve couldn’t remember what it was called. It had been one of the babbling sessions that he’d tuned out. So he couldn’t hear them anymore, but what he was seeing more than made up for it. Tony wasn’t quite facing him, sitting at an angle with one of his hologram… things in front of him. He was working diligently even as his mouth moved, because he was good enough at what he did that he didn’t always have to focus his full attention on it. That was normal and what he was used to seeing - if that had been all he was seeing, Steve would have finally known that he was home and ready to make Tony his.

Instead, he was sitting in Bucky’s lap, so clearly at ease that it had to be something he did often. Both Bucky’s flesh arm and a metal one were wrapped snugly around Tony’s waist, and Buck had his chin hooked on Tony’s left shoulder. He was looking at whatever Tony was working on with both interest and some understanding, like maybe he’d really listened when Tony had explained what he was doing. The scene would have been heartwarming and beautifully domestic if it hadn’t been between Steve’s best friend and the guy he’d maybe left waiting for just a little too long.

Tony never noticed he was there… but Bucky was another story. His eyes suddenly cut to Steve’s, the look in them hard and cold - they were the eyes of the Winter Soldier, and for just a moment he was terrified for Tony. What if the efforts to counter decades of brainwashing hadn’t been as successful as they’d thought? What if Bucky wasn’t really Bucky? What if he hurt Tony? The thought didn’t last long, however, because the expression melted into one that was pure Bucky Barnes. It was sly, shit eating and full of smug victory - he had to know how much Steve wished he was sitting where Bucky was. He kept eye contact as he pressed his mouth to the side of Tony’s neck; it made the genius’s eyes flutter, but it wasn’t enough to stop his hands. Bucky tried again and then again, until Tony - still not looking up from his work, so he still didn’t know Steve was there - lightly swatted at him.

Bucky still had his eyes locked on Steve’s as he ignored the swat and ran one hand possessively up Tony’s chest. The other started to skim downward, but Steve resolutely refused to think about that. He had to watch as Bucky bit down on Tony’s neck, probably sucking hard enough to leave a mark, one that wouldn’t let anyone forget that Tony was Bucky’s. Steve wanted to taste the gasp the gesture drew from Tony’s lips, and he felt something in him crack when he realized that he wouldn’t ever get to. He wanted to feel the way Tony had arched, then melted back against Bucky’s chest. He wanted to be the one gently taking Tony’s throat in his hand, wanted to be the one using his hold to turn Tony’s head and draw him into a hot, messy, demanding kiss.

Steve wouldn’t ever get to have any of those things, because he’d left Tony waiting for too long, and Bucky had swooped in to steal it all away.

Once he’d stumbled almost blindly to his room, he stayed there for the rest of the night. He didn’t need to see the pair of them at dinner, or watch them cuddle up to each other during the movie the whole team planned on watching after. Steve didn’t want the constant reminder that he’d lost out, again, because he’d assumed he would have the time later to savor it. He just wanted time to process this latest lost, come to terms with it as best he could, before he had to interact with them. Steve wanted a night to himself before he had to deal with the pitying looks from his teammates. He wanted one last night before he had to admit to the world how badly he’d fucked up when it came to Tony Stark.

~.~.~

It didn’t take long for Steve’s team to realize they’d all fucked up when it came to Tony… at least in the eyes of his new team. They were all unnecessarily protective, throwing off glares and putting themselves bodily between Steve’s team and Tony. Wanda wasn’t allowed within a few feet of the genius… which she wouldn’t have minded at all if it wasn’t for the fact that Vision stuck almost as close to him as Bucky did. If they thought they detected even a hint of 'old behavior’ (they felt the original Avengers hadn’t treated Tony well and wouldn’t let Steve explain that that wasn’t true), they were quick to point it out and demand they change. Sam was adjusting alright, but Clint had left after a week of it and Wanda only stayed because of Steve. Nat had abandoned them too, but only to return to the new incarnation of SHIELD; when her job had her interacting with the Avengers she was cautious and careful in a way that she hadn’t been before. Steve just felt lost and defensive, and he didn’t understand why  they all thought Tony had been treated so badly.

Tony seemed oblivious to most of it, and he wasn’t sure if he was thankful for that or not. He didn’t often have two words to spare for Steve, and they all had to do with the Avengers. Gone were the lingering looks and the sweet smiles. They didn’t touch anymore, didn’t share intimate dinners that were just for the two of them, dinners where they spoke softly and easily with their feet intertwined. Tony was done waiting for him - Steve got the feeling he’d stopped waiting a while ago and he’d just been too willfully blind to see it. There wasn’t that spark of something between them anymore, and they weren’t even friends. They weren’t anything.

He wasn’t anything to Bucky anymore either. Steve had been too bewildered by his best friend’s relationship with Tony to reach out right away, and when he’d started trying he’d been rebuffed at every turn. Bucky didn’t even want to be called 'Bucky’ anymore - anyone that wasn’t Tony or Spider-Man had to call him 'James’. Tony had a slew of nicknames for him, most of them relating to winter, while Spider-Man (a kid named Peter Parker who got mad if anyone talked about that even when he was out of the mask) pretty persistently called him 'Cold Snap’. He’d tell anyone who would listen that he’d been the one to come up with the name and that Tony had stolen it. James would just smile and ruffle his hair whenever he was around to hear the story.

Whatever he was called now, Bucky had made it pretty goddamned clear that he didn’t feel like they were best friends anymore. He didn’t seem to like Steve at all, actually, though they still worked well enough together in the field. Every once in a while, Steve would catch a glimmer of the Bucky he’d known in the curve of his smile or the sparkle in his eyes; sometimes those little things would even last a day or two. But then Steve would accidentally say something or do something that would make Tony give a pained smile and withdraw, which would put him right back to square one. Because no matter how protective the rest of the Avengers were, even Colonel Rhodes had nothing on Bucky.

At first Bucky had stuck to Tony like a burr, and even four months later he was only a little better. Wherever Tony was, 'James’ was right behind him, being sweet and tender with his partner while looming like a thundercloud over almost everyone else. Well, he seemed to have decent relationships with the newer Avengers, especially Spider-Man and Hope van Dyne. So the new Avengers got smiles and sly comments, received the occasional clasp of the shoulder or other casual touch, and they were allowed to be near Tony without Bucky’s constant and oppressive presence. Steve actually suspected Bucky of enlisting the other new Avengers to watch after Tony whenever he was absent, because he couldn’t think of a single instance where any member of his team had been left alone with the genius.

Bucky was watching them, and if they overstepped whatever lines he’d drawn, he was not shy about kicking their asses.

He’d broken Clint’s arm during a sparring session, which was a large part of why the archer had decided he was done. Steve found out later that Clint had been ranting at Tony and when Tony had tried to leave, Clint had grabbed his arm hard enough to leave a bruise. While Bucky had only growled and physically removed him then, he’d exacted retribution the next time he’d faced Clint in the ring. That same week, during a team training exercise, he’d jumped onto Sam’s back and torn his wings to shreds; they’d dropped a good ten feet to the ground together, scrapping the whole way. Neither of them had broken anything, and a grim Sam had apologized the next day for talking shit about how long it was taking Tony to upgrade his equipment.

Wanda refused to spar with him or participate in training scenarios that he was a part of. From the intense, threatening way he looked at her and his tendency to play with knives in her presence, Steve didn’t really blame her.

Steve hadn’t escaped unscathed either. He was allowed to disagree with Tony and challenge his plans, but only if he had a point, a real reason for doing it. He learned quickly that yelling got him punches that were a little more vicious than usual, and if he got in Tony’s face during the heat of the moment he was likely to end up with a few cracked ribs the next time he faced off against Bucky. Once - just once - he’d tried to talk to Tony about everything that had happened alone. With some deft maneuvering he managed to corner Tony without anyone else around. He hadn’t wanted to frighten or hurt the genius… he’d just wanted them to clear the air. He’d wanted to know why and when Tony had stopped waiting. Steve hadn’t realized that Tony was shaking like a leaf and flinching away from him, hadn’t seen the panic in his eyes or registered that his breathing was too hard and too fast. It wasn’t until Bucky came storming up to them, expression dark and furious, that he’d realized that he was scaring the shit out of Tony. He’d backed off fast, but it hadn’t saved him from Bucky the next time they sparred - he’d ended up in medical, nursing a couple of broken bones and needing some stitches despite his healing factor.

All in all, Bucky was making his position incredibly clear. He wasn’t putting up with any 'bullshit’ being directed toward Tony, and he wasn’t afraid to take their blood as payment for every bit of suffering he thought his partner went through.

That’s what Steve had thought for a long time, anyway. He’d been sure it was Bucky, because Bucky loved Tony and wanted him happy and safe. Maybe he wouldn’t have gone to such extremes, but if Tony had been his Steve would have tried to secure exactly those things for him. And Bucky’d been through hell since his fall - it wasn’t surprising, not really, that he’d resort to methods that bordered on brutal to make a lesson stick.

Three months after arriving though, Steve realized it wasn’t Bucky at all.

Fighting - even while training - brought out what was left of the Winter Soldier. So where Bucky was quick to help Tony escape from uncomfortable situations, the Winter Soldier was intent on making them pay for causing them. Bucky might snap and snarl and verbally confront them, but the Winter Soldier was happy to make them bleed instead. Tony wasn’t just dating Bucky. After everything that had happened in Siberia, despite the way the Winter Soldier had killed his parents, Tony had accepted the Winter Soldier’s presence in his life.

More than accepted, actually. Tony never avoided his partner when he was more Winter Soldier than Bucky. In battle situations, once the fighting was over, he always went right to the Winter Soldier, touching and talking until they were both reassured that the other was alright. Tony never shied away from Bucky’s more violent half, and Steve wondered how and why that had happened. He wished he knew why Tony could be so willing to let the Winter Soldier touch him, kiss him, but shut Steve out so completely. It was like he thought Steve was somehow worse than a brainwashed assassin, and it was bewildering and infuriating. He hated watching Tony cuddle the Winter Soldier until what was left of Hydra’s monster felt the situation was safe enough that he could retreat. He hated hearing Tony babble joyfully at the creation that had murdered his parents, hated the way the Winter Soldier would almost smile as he indulged Tony’s every whim. He hated how jealous it all made him, and he hated that even the worst part of his former best friend got more of Tony than he could ever hope to have even on his best day.

Steve had taken for granted that Tony would wait for him forever. He’d thought the unnamed, unspoken thing between them would last through whatever life threw at them. He had genuinely believed that the way they looked at each other, the way they both  knew they could have something, would be enough to keep Tony happy to wait until Steve finally managed to get around to paying Tony actual attention. He’d been grateful that Tony hadn’t done anything that would take his attention away from more immediate, more 'important’ things.

He’d been such a fucking idiot.

Maybe he didn’t know the details of how they’d gotten together. Maybe he didn’t know exactly how hostility had turned to acceptance and then love. He had no idea what had taken them away from being enemies and put them into a relationship that seemed to make them both flourish. What he did know was that it had happened because Bucky had been there. He hadn’t shunted Tony off to the side or chosen to make his priorities elsewhere. Bucky had been right there, giving Tony his time and attention instead of offering only a nebulous 'someday, maybe’ while so many of his actions had caused Tony pain. Bucky had offered Tony something real, something concrete, and Steve couldn’t blame him for taking it. Even when jealousy raged inside of him, threatening to turn him bitter, Steve finally understood why Tony had stopped waiting for him.

Good things were supposed to come to those who waited, but those 'good things’ had to actually appear at some point. Tony had waited for him for years, and Steve would have been content to make him wait even longer. Hell, the only reason he’d even thought about trying for something more was because he’d lost everything again. That had scared him into wanting something real with Tony - if their stupid 'civil war’ hadn’t happened, he’d probably have made Tony wait until the day one of them died in battle.

Tony had waited enough, and Steve had lost another good thing to time.

#prompt fill #prompt fic #my writing #my fic #WinterIron #Steve Rogers #Tony Stark #James 'Bucky' Barnes #Tony Stark/Bucky Barnes #POV Steve Rogers #regret #protective bucky #team iron man

[softstarkbucks]

I Read the Terms and Conditions for Unconditional Love Pt. 2

Pt. 2! Read Part 1 here

Tony didn't say much when he got to work, putting a black apron on and pinning the badge that read 'Tony' onto the apron. Pepper looked at him with a worried expression, but she didn't bother him. She was his boss, but they were also friends, and she worried about him. Whether he realized it or not. She knew he didn't sleep much, and it definitely seemed like he hadn't been eating a whole lot either, lately. Tony spent his morning cleaning and rearranging the syrups, making everything neat. Once customers started coming in, he quietly kept an eye out for any named Bucky. It had to be a distinctive name. Or something starting with Ja, for that matter. Tony wasn't brave enough to start a conversation, but he wanted to know what Bucky looked like. If he was handsome, maybe if he was interested in other men. Not that anyone would want to date him, but it was a nice thought. It was a sad statement that so little human contact already had him suckered in...but he was lonely. Anyone talking to him past pleasantries was a big deal.

__

Bucky spent his morning stacking books and alternating between silence and folk music, he didn't have to work the front desk 'till after lunch, 'till closing. Bucky let himself relish the soft quiet of the back shelves long as he could.  The smell of libraries was something he'd always found comforting.  When Bucky was little, his mom would bring him here, read him stories, then listen to him stumble through a couple.  They'd take out stacks and stacks of books, Bucky much rather ripping through those than playing at recess.  Sure, he'd get wrangled into a football game once in a while, but there was always a doggy eared book sitting at the edge of the field.  Right as he was finishing the middle grade fantasy section, there was a light tap on his shoulder.  He looked over, his friend Sam standing beside him. He took his earbuds out and raised his eyebrows.  "What's up?" Sam usually didn't come to the library 'till closing, when they went out to dinner, at Sam's insistence, and rented a redbox, or played some Xbox. They'd met in college, dated a little, but then realized that they were more friends. Really good friends. Sam was dating some nice guy but still made sure to keep Bucky in his circle. It never seemed to be out of pity either; Sam seemed to genuinely like hanging out with him. It was nice. And new. "Wanna grab some lunch? Sharon said she'd give you a longer break if you stay after closing to catalog." Bucky snorted. Sharon was a good boss, but it was rare that she made changes to the schedule. "I wonder why," He muttered. "But I'll take it. Where were you thinking?" Sam shrugged.  "That cafe couple blocks over? Heard they have good pastries." Bucky nodded, and Sam gave him a thumbs up, their little 'okay' sign, and began to lead the way out to the street. With Sam's back to him, Bucky took the oppurtunity to put his earplugs in. Even though he'd had them awhile now, Bucky still was conscious of them; if his voice was too loud or soft, mumbled or stuttering; if people saw them and thought he either didn't want to hear them or belonged in the looney bin. Sam knew, but Bucky had made the excuse that they were for concerts.  He doubted he'd care, but sometimes Bucky rather keep things to himself rather than face the questioning.

__

Tony's morning was mainly comprised of making small talk and complicated lattes. By the time afternoon rolled around, there was a slight lull so Pepper made him have a leftover breakfast sandwich. He was still behind the counter working, just eating a little something. It wasn't an easy job for him, but he managed. Sometimes by the time he got home, the paranoia was almost too intense- but he managed. Normally by the time he got home, he just planned on drowning himself in his work. Today wasn't too bad though, they had been quiet and fairly calm, only a few customers. Not so great for Pepper, but alright for him. He just hoped it wasn't his fault that she was losing business.

__

Bucky and Sam got to the cafe and stepped inside, a wave of AC hitting their faces.  It was sickening and lovely at the same time, as were most things in Bucky's life.  "I'll go find us a seat," Sam said, giving Bucky a smirk. "I'll have a BLT with chicken." Sometimes, he really, really hated that Sam Wilson had majored in Pysch. Always pushing him out of his comfort zone, making him talk to people, go to the store and ask a question rather than just look it up, a real pain in the ass. Even if it had been helping him, though he'd never, ever admit that to Sam.  Bucky stepped into line, which was only one other person and glanced up at the menu.  He really didn't feel like eating, but it was lunch, so he guessed he oughta. There was a wrap that didn't look too bad; lettuce, cheese, some veggies, he could pick at that.  Sooner than he would have liked, he was up at the cashier; a shorter guy named Tony. Wait. Tony, Tony, Tony. Nah, it was a common enough name, and he lived in a busy enough place. If it was the same guy who'd calmed him through morse code last night, he would actually believe in love again.  Not that it was love. Wait, what was Bucky even thinking? Fuck if he knew. "Uh," He said, digging his voice out of the grave. "Hey? Can I have- please have a BLT with chicken, and, um, a Greek wrap? And, like, two fountain drinks?" Bucky forced a smile, trying to seem polite and casual, but if this Tony couldn't see that he was jumping out of his skin, he was blind.

__

Tony smiled a bit, sensing his discomfort. "Sure," He said, careful not to talk too loudly. "Could I have a name for the order?" This man was handsome, probably his best looking customer of the day. He started to put together his order, imagination running wild. Maybe this was the man he was looking for, though it seemed unlikely. "Oh, did you want the Greek sauce on the wrap, or no? I'm sorry." He had almost forgotten to ask. It was standard, but he always asked. It didn't help that he was feeling nervous around this new, attractive stranger. It was a little bit of everything and he was trying not to freak /him/ out anymore either. God, everything was so complicated. Ugh. "S-sorry."

 __

"Uh, on the side's okay." Bucky mumbled, fishing out his wallet.  "And s'Bucky." If the man could understand him well enough to not ask for a repeat, Bucky might damn well kiss him.  It was a bit comforting to know that he wasn't the only one who stumbled over his words sometimes. He felt like the rest of the world was so smooth spoken, just wanting for him to catch the fuck up already.  Leaning over the counter, he stuck his card into the chip reader, and signed off on the twenty five dollar order.  He looked up at the cashier and half smiled, waiting for the receipt and soda fountain cups.  "T-thanks."

__

Tony looked up at him, holding the cup. He just stared for a second. Bucky. This guy's name was Bucky. What were the odds of that? It was certainly the right neighborhood. Maybe it was him. "Uh, I- did you say your name was Bucky? I..nevermind. Here, uh, here's your drinks." He smiled a little, and gave him the little tray of food as well. "Have a good day." He remembered, then moved to do something, /anything/ except look at Bucky right now. Oh, God. It had to be him. It wasn't like that was a common name of anyone, really.

__

Bucky raised his eyebrows at the question, but didn't go to answer it when the cashier handed him his things and smiled.  "You too." He said back, reminding himself that that was something people said.  He walked back to the table Sam had chose and set the tray down, picking up his plate and handing Sam his before sticking the  tray on top of a trash can. Before he took a bite, he looked at Sam, raising a shoulder towards the counter.  "Do you know that guy? The one working the register?" Sam turned discretely and gave Tony a quick once over.  "No, don't think so, should I?" Bucky swallowed the bite of wrap he'd taken.  "I don't think so, he just acted funny when I said my name, y'know, for the order. I mean, there was this guy-" Bucky stopped himself before going any further. Even Sam didn't know about how he acted when he was alone. So far, it was just his neighbor.  "Nevermind." But the mention of a guy had piqued Sam's interest. "A guy? Buck, that's great man!" Sam would sure think it's great if he heard that they were talking through morse code at two in the morning after Bucky had a freakout.  "How is he?" Sam asked. Good, he wanted to say, he's fine, but suddenly even those three words were very, very hard for Bucky.

__

Tony watched him go for a second, then glanced to his friend. Guy friend. They seemed to be talking, seemed..pretty happy. Maybe they were dating. It seemed to be all in vain. Bucky was probably already taken. He sighed a little and started to clean the counter, even though it was already clean. Tony had to keep busy. Some things made him feel better. This didn't, but at least it kept his eyes off of Bucky. It had to be him, the man he talked to last night. He felt his friend's gaze on him, and Tony felt himself shrink in on himself. He really didn't feel comfortable anymore, all Tony wanted to do was leave, but Pepper was depending on him today. Nobody else was in or was able to take over his shift. They wouldn't be in here forever, maybe thirty minutes at the most. He could last, it would be fine. Ugh, if only they were busier. Things would be easier then. He could pretend he didn't even see them, and stay busy.

__

Bucky and Sam finished their lunch, and then decided to use the rest of their time to catch up.  The silence of eating had allowed Bucky to recuperate a bit, and was ready for conversation when Sam had come back from tossing his plate.  They'd started with small talk, but quickly it veered off into a discussion about Renaissance; one of Bucky

__

Bucky's favorite topics, and Sam's too. They'd met each other in an art class that covered everything from Classical to Baroque. "It just bothers me, y'know? How people try and erase critical parts of these people's identities!" His hands waved around, flapping a bit. "If they were queer, historians erase it! And if they were mentally ill? Forget it! People honestly believe that Leonardo Da Vinci made the work that he did 'cause he was so depressed! And-and, if he had been on meds, we never would'a gotten Starry Night!" Sam nodded, letting him finish, before gesturing with his hand near the table top. /Settle down./ That was by far Bucky's least favorite thing to hear.  'Cause he never realized he was too loud or taking up too much space with his movements 'till someone told him it was too much.  When he was happy, he was too much. Bucky dropped his hands and nodded, still fidgeting them under the table, like their were electric sparks he had to release.  "Y'know?" He said, barely above a whisper.  Sam responded, agreeing with him, and adding another fact that he'd picked up in the paper; but Bucky was biting his lip. He'd fucked up, hadn't he?

__

Tony watched, frowning slightly. He couldn't stand by. Whether this was the same Bucky or not, his friend didn't understand. He walked over to the table, with a nice little pastry in hand. Pepper could take it out of his paycheck, she would understand. "Uh, excuse me." He said, looking at them both. "I thought one of you might like this, and I wanted to let you know that you weren't doing anything wrong." He looked at Bucky. "It's fine to stim here if you need to, the owner understands." He had a panic attack here once, and Pepper had understood. He knew she wouldn't mind. "We..we want our cafe to be a community space, and that includes everyone." He smiled a little bit at Bucky, and looked down. "Anyways. I'm sorry to interrupt." He didn't like Sam, partially because he was jealous, but also because this guy seemed like he deserved to be happy. If Tony could help with that, geez...he'd do anything. Pepper looked at him, not upset- mostly surprised when he came back to the counter. "That was brave, Tony." She said, quietly. Tony shrugged and shook his head. "Not really. Just remember to take the raspberry tart out of my pay, please." He said, not wanting to feel like he had taken anything. She had already given him so much, he didn't want to take advantage of her kindness.

__

Bucky only managed a quick glance up at the man, Tony.  Still Tony.  Tony, Tony, Tony.  He swore the name was like a song in itself.  Up-down, up-down. He looked down again, not in the mood to test his boundaries and thank the man himself; Sam could cut him some slack this time around, right? He did, the great guy, and thanked Tony for the pastry.   “See?” He said quietly, edging Bucky’s gaze up with his voice. “S’okay, nobody cares.” The reason he’d told him to settle down in the first place was all Bucky’s own fault; he’d told Sam to tell him when he acted weird.  Sam really hadn’t wanted to, ‘cause he thought Bucky was fine just how he is, but when some jerk muttered something rude under their breath, he’d changed his tune. Sam had always wanted to be his friend, not his therapist, and neither of them really knew how to go about this.   Bucky shook his head, rubbing his thumb in a circle over the glossy tabletop.  “Yeah, sure.” He mumbled, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth.   “C’mon, Buck,” Sam said, “Least we got a tart out of it, right?” Bucky snort, and sat up a little straighter. “You know me, Sam.” He met his best friend’s eyes.  “If it means we get free food, I’ll be a fool in public all you want.” Still refusing to approve of himself, Bucky edged towards self-deprecating humor instead. Made other people laugh, and lightened the mood; made him seem more like a joke than a person, but it was easier that way.

__

Tony stood quietly for a moment, taking a few deep breaths. Okay, that had been harder than he would admit. Still, it was fine. After a moment, he recovered and a customer walked in, so he put on a small smile and took their order. It would be fine. Freaking out was for being at home. He made the latte with precision, drowning himself in the work. He was a good barista, able to keep track of everything surprisingly well. Maybe he'd learned something, after all those years in his lab. Now all he had was this space, but it was at least a place where he knew where everything was and how it worked. The drink was ready in just about a minute and a half, and Tony gave it to them still wearing a small smile. "Three o' eight." He said, politely.

__

Their extended lunch hour soon came to an end, and Sam and Bucky both needed to get back to work.  They rose, hugged quickly, and parted ways on the sidewalk.  Now, the rest of the afternoon would be spent checking books out for harried college students and little kids who were just starting to read Henry and Mudge. He set himself up at the front desk, a deep mahogany beast of wood and felt accents, his printed draft off to the side, laptop charging, cord sticking out of his bag.  A young girl, about twelve or so with a shock of blond hair came up to the desk, hefting a stack of books almost taller than her.  Bucky laughed softly, and leaned over to help her.  “You got a lotta good books here,” He said, smiling at her. She had a sparkly ‘A+ Reader!’ sticker on her dress.  “Yeah, I really like reading. Do you?” Bucky began checking them out, keeping an eye out for a bag he could put the books in. “Yeah, ” He said after scanning her card, “When I was your age, I was into Lord of the Rings, have you-” Suddenly his back stiffened and a lump the size of Texas formed in his throat.  As her name appeared on the screen, Eliza /Eliza, Eliza, Eliza/, Eliza Rogers,  a sickeningly familiar set of footsteps walked up behind her. Her brother. Steve.

#pt 2 #bucky/tony #tony/bucky #bucky barnes #tony stark #winteriron #starkbucks #rp #roleplay

[its-called-a-balaclava]

The Team Fortress Testing Initiative

The sequel to Scout: The Aperture Test Subject (link here)

A situation lands ALL of the mercs into cooperative testing. No big deal, they’ve worked together on the field time and time again, right? Well, it’s not that simple.

Multi-Chapter Work-In-Progress

Teen and Up Audiences

Below: from @northern-raven (link here)

Chapter One: What’s With the Boots?

“And that’s what that book ‘The Metamorphosis’ was about; a human who was so stupid that he turned into a bug, so his brain would fit properly into his skull.” Wheatley said to Scout, who was listening with rapt attention.

“Damn. Heavy’s always sayin’ it’s a metaphor about how change affects people or somethin’ like that.” Scout responded, bouncing a tennis ball against the wall.

“Well, what would he know? You know what a PhD is? It’s a form of self-validation. And his PhD is in Russian literature, isn’t it?” Wheatley asked.

“Yeah,” Scout said

“Well, the original text was in German , and you don’t hear that doctor saying anything about redemption, do you?” Wheatley pointed out.

“Yeah… yeah !” Scout said, standing up. “You’re right!”

“Of course I’m right,” Wheatley said. “Now―”

“I don’t know what he’s talking about, but he’s definitely incorrect.” Spy said, walking into the room, making Scout jump.

“What are you doin’ here?” Scout was indignant.

Spy sighed. “I need the thing,” he said, gesturing to Wheatley.

“Well, what happened to your old sapper?” Scout rather liked hanging out with Wheatley. He was a goldmine of information, and he wasn’t condescending about sharing it.

“It’s in the repair shop. Having to disable dozens of level three sentries will do that to a machine.”

Wheatley’s eye widened.

“Thank you,” Spy said, snatching the robot from the floor.

During the battle:

“Are we sneaking?”

“Alright, I’m disabling this machine now…”

“Act natural, we’ve done nothing wrong, right?”

“Why don’t you just stab him, that way we can eliminate the need for hacking?”

After seventeen trips to respawn, the battle was over, and Spy didn’t hesitate to follow their Engineer back to his workshop.

“Can you find some way to remove the speakers on this thing?” Spy asked, holding Wheatley up on the air.

“What? Hey!” he said as he was being waved around in the air for emphasis.

“Uh…” Engie really wasn’t prepared for this debacle.

“If you removed my speakers, I would be a living, sensory being, with no way to communicate to the outside world. Do you know what that is? That is torture. Literally. Philosophically, that is one of the worst forms of torture a being can experience.” Wheatley said, still held high in the air.

“Y’all know I don’t do philosophy.” Engie said. He’d met the “Ap-Sap”― Wheatley― once before, when handling the calibration settings, but he’d been programming the device at the time, so he’d never heard it talk.

“Well―” Wheatley began, but Spy cut him off.

“Please, just disable it.”

“Tell ya what, I’ve got your old sapper,” he handed it over. “Right here. That oughta do ya.”

Spy frowned at it. “True, but if I ever have to use this thing again…”

Even though Engie didn’t do philosophy, and he didn’t really think the robot was sentient, he didn’t feel comfortable taking away its ability to speak. “Look, even if I would shut this thing up,” he said, taking it from Spy, “I don’t know if I could. This ain’t like any machinery I’ve ever seen. Hell, the bolts alone don’t match any of my wrenches.”

Engie turned Wheatley around in his hands, analyzing the core-turned-sapper.

“I feel this is a violation of my personal space,” Wheatley protested.

“Aperture Laboratories― that was all the talk at my class reunion, shame it was just a myth.” Engie said all to himself, looking at the logo printed on the metal.

“What do you mean, a myth?” Spy said, raising an eyebrow. Normally, he would have just prodded Engie back to the present, but that sapper had caused much more trouble than just shoddy fieldwork.

“Well, the factory creates sappers and other specialty devices, apparently Pauling got this sapper from the place.” Engie murmured. “But the story is that the place is actually some messed up research facility. People trapped there as human guinea pigs, technology unlike any ever seen― stuff that would put my teleporters to shame. And actual AIs. This thing,” Engie gestured to Wheatley. “Is likely just a context-stimulated response generator. A box that pretends to talk, in layman’s terms. Probably why Pauling never got any more sappers from the company.” Engie said.

“That’s not true!” Wheatley protested, but it was lost amidst the conversation.

“Why do you care?” Engie asked Spy, puzzled. “Normally you just try and stop me from yammerin’.”

“I think I’ve taken a tour of this facility you are talking about. It’s not just a factory. And I have some questions you might know the answer to.” Spy was calm.

Engie was not. “You’ve ‘taken a tour’? Wait, wait― does this have anything to do when you had to find Scout about a week ago? And y’all missed dinner?”

“To all of those questions, yes.” Spy said.

“Well, then, bring him in. If this is anything like you’re implying, I need to hear more about it.” Engie was leaning forward on his desk chair now, animated with curiosity.

“For scientific purposes or so you will be the center of attention at your next class reunion?” Spy questioned him.

“Probably both,” Engie replied.

By the time they had finished the story― Scout and Spy rushing to cut each other off whenever they could― it was not only Engie, but all of the mercenaries, who were gathered around the workshop table.

“Interesting,” Sniper said.

“So ‘interesting’, I find it hard to believe it happened. Especially considering that we’re only hearing about it now.” Medic chimed in.

Nobody noticed Scout leave the room.

“Why would I lie about this?” Spy addressed Medic, but it was Heavy who answered:

“Shame. You were lost.” the words were short, but they carried weight. Spy, lost and scared in the middle of nowhere? Unthinkable, but more likely than the other story.

“First of all, that is not what happened,” said Spy. “And, secondly, if it had― which I again will remind you it didn't― you really think that going along with a story that Scout made up would be my course of action? Of course not. The sheer ridiculousness of the event proves it to be true. There was simply no point in saying anything earlier, especially since I knew the credibility of this story is doubtful at best.”

“Well―” Demo said, but he was cut off by Scout slamming the door open like a drama queen on a reality T.V. show.

“If I were makin’ this up, then where did I get these ?” he planted a foot in front of him― a foot encased in a Long-Fall Boot. He’d been set to wear them everywhere, right up until he’d caught himself in the mirror after he’d come home. He’d stowed them in the back of his closet and never put them on again.

Well, until now.

It was impossible to tell who burst out laughing first. Engie calmed down the soonest, chortling until he looked closer at the sleek quality and careful design of the boots. “Come over here, boy,” he said, a grin still tugging at the side of his mouth. “Lemme see that.”

Scout bounced over― literally; these things were like springs for his feet― and  raised a foot, trying to keep the awkwardness to a minimum.

Engie could see the purpose of the boots, the way they were structured so a fall would never hurt the wearer, so long as they landed feet-first. He tapped his chin, Newton’s laws and energy equations swirling around in his mind.

Engie said, “Boy, I need you to walk around. Need to see more of it. How it works and such.” Actually, he didn’t. But when would an opportunity like this arise again?

Scout blushed, but it was for the best. He paraded around the room, slowly walking heel-to-toe as he watched Engie watching him.

Engie did his best to keep a straight face. “Alright, now walk backwards.”

“Wha―”

Engie snapped his fingers. “It’s important, boy.”

Everyone had caught on, and as Scout walked backwards― and straight into the wall― Demo had to hide his laughs in a round of fake coughing.

“These ceilings are high, boy.” Engie said, and it was all he could do to keep the smile off of his face. “Jump.”

“Did― didja say ‘jump’?”

“Yup. You have to jump.” The ceilings were tall, but if Engie’s guess was right, they weren’t tall enough. “Just once.”

Scout was scarlet now. But it was okay; it was to prove it happened. And Engie was a total genius at these things.

He sprang up and collided with the ceiling, hitting a light fixture with his forehead and landing on the floor with no dignity whatsoever.

“HAH! HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA!” Engie cried, slapping his knee. The rest joined in for another fit of laughter. “Holy hell, that was funny, boy. But in all seriousness,” he said, seeing the red mark on Scout’s head and feeling bad, “All I wanna see now is the gun.”

“The… gun?” Scout asked.

Engie put his hands on the table. “This could make teleportin’ on the field revolutionary. If you can give it to me, within a week, I can give a working model to all of us.”

“Um, I don’t have it,” Scout said, avoiding his gaze.

Engie straightened up. “What do ya mean, you don’t have it?”

“Uh, I think I dropped it somewhere after we left the place, before we got back in Spy’s car. It’s cool, though,” Scout said. “I like the teleporters we have now.”

Engie leaned in closer to everyone gathered around the table. He had a fire in his eyes― and as everyone would soon find out, enough metal detectors to go around.

Next Chapter

Notes:

I don’t usually put images in these posts, but this was just perfect… I just wish it would show up with higher res but that’s tumblr for ya, click the link guys! 

Whelp, this is the end of the first chapter of the second part. I love comments, so, leave one! You know, if you want.

And also, I’ll admit I’ve never read The Metamorphosis, but I’m sure Wheatley’s wrong about this one.

#chapter one of the sequel #tf2 fanfic #portal fanfic #crossover #hope it's not a letdown

[thiswasinevitableid]

I have another Indruck prompt if you’re still taking them/interested: In Indrid’s absence from Kepler after the tree abomination, and in the wake of losing his powers, Duck finds a Gyspy Moth caterpillar. These moths are a problem in the Monongahela Forest because they cause deforestation, but Duck can’t bring himself to kill it. Instead, he takes it home and raises it from caterpillar to moth. He now has to explain to everyone (including Indrid when he returns) why he has a pet moth.

This turned out to be just what I needed to write today.

Duck spots the caterpillar. It’s a Gypsy Moth, bad news for the trees in his beloved forest.

Whelp, the little fella will have to go.

He picks up a small rock, perfect for squishing. But he can’t bring himself to actually squish it. His soft spot for critters doesn’t usually extend to ones that are pests, and for a moment he’s worried that Minnie’s disconnection means he can’t be tough in literally any way, be it physical or emotional.

Then again, a more likely explanation is that the word “moth” conjures up different images than it used to; a pair of red glasses, a strange face, an utter inability to handle cold. Dried blood on the face, tied up by the Cottonwood.

God, he’d felt like he’d been punched, seeing Indrid with the injuries from whatever scuffle happened with the goatminion.

Indrid is gone, flown away to who-knows-where, a string of “what-ifs” trailing behind him. Duck will never get to know him better, never figure out what the little prick of warmth in his chest whenever he saw the man meant. He hasn’t come back in months, and Duck can’t say he blames him. Kepler didn’t exactly prove safe.

He searches for a few stray leave, piles them on the seat of the jeep. Scoops the caterpillar into his hands and then deposits it on the pile.

“Alright little guy, let’s head home.”

———————————————

It’s a week later and he’s placing leaves into a shoe box for his new pet to munch on.

“There you go, dinner time.”

He’s managed to keep the caterpillar alive, in part because the cat is deeply uninterested by it. The kids book he found at the library has also helped.

Now one else knows about the shoe box or its occupant. Right now, it’s his little secret, and something about that calms him. He can keep this little fella safe, even though the rest of his life is shuddering and shifting under his feet in ways he doesn’t like. His once predictable world gets more fraught by the week. But his friend here will always need leaves, will eventually pupate, will eventually fly. How comforting to know things go on day by day even when disaster is around every corner.

Jesus, he’s waxing poetic about a moth. He really needs to sleep more.

—————————————

The days are consistently warm when his new pet finally pupates. It’s latched to a branch in the aquarium tank Duck found at a garage sale. Something about it being in this stage makes Duck anxious; he can’t see what’s happening, he can’t see if it’s okay and yes he knows, he knows how moth life cycles work and that it will be fine.

He’ll come back to him.

There’s a Pine Guard meeting tonight, and so he drives up to the lodge, more tired than he cares to admit.

The commotion in the lobby doesn’t strike him as odd, he just figures Aubrey is showing off a new trick. He steps up beside Barclay to see who he’s talking to.

Red glasses. And a wide smile that takes on a new depth as he appears.

“Hello, Duck. Nice to see you again.”

———————————————–

It’s movie night, and Duck is hosting. His friends are curled on couches and nestled on pillows on the floor.

Indrid is among them, having used his weeks back in Kepler to grow closer to the Pine Guard, spend more time at the lodge and around his fellow Sylphs.

That Duck has gone to his Winnebago on more than one occasion just because he wanted to see him has not escaped anyone’s notice. Duck is still trying to convince himself it’s solely to hang out with a friend.

“Uh, Duck, why do you have an empty fishtank?”

Everyone’s heads swivel towards where Aubrey is looking.

“I believe it’s not entirely empty.” Indrid says softly, voice suggesting he’s only half-present in the room.

Ned, Dani, and Aubrey crowd around the tank.

“It’s a butterfly cocoon.” Dani points at the purple-brown shape.

“It’s actually a-”

“HOLY SHIT it’s moving!” Aubrey gives a delighted cheer and Duck nudges Ned aside so he can see too.  They stand transfixed as little by little wings and body appear until at last they reveal…

“A moth? Interesting selection, my friend.” Ned peers at it.

“Isn’t that kind invasive or something?” Dani looks at Duck, who shrugs before speaking.

“Yeah, they ain’t good for the forest. But I found one as a caterpillar and just, uh, just, fuck, decided to, uh, hold onto, no. Fuck.”

“It’s a bit drab.” Ned muses.

“I rather like the color.” Indrid murmurs and Duck realizes he’s standing beside him, regarding the moth as it flaps it’s wings to dry them. He looks back at his pet and his breath catches in a way he hopes only Indrid (but ideally not even him) hears. The colors on his little friend are similar to colors he remembers from Indrid’s Sylph form.

“Did you name it?” Aubrey gives a small wave to the moth through the glass.

“Indrid.” It slips out before Duck can stop it; he’d called the moth that in his head. But when it slips out it’s to only him who says it as Indrid’s voice layers beneath his.

“Awwwww.” Aubrey says, giving Duck a look that he knows all too well. His cheeks are burning, and worse Indrid has gone silent.

“Oughta let him get adjusted to havin’ wings and shit. C’mon, let’s start the movie.”

The movie passes uneventfully, but Duck catches Indrid giving him odd looks during it.

And when everyone else departs, the slender, white-haired man remains. When Duck finishes waving goodbye to Aubrey and Dani, he shuts the door and finds Indrid seated in front of the tank.

He sits down next to him.

“You know I’m not really a moth, right?” It’s teasing, but there’s something else going on in his voice.

“Course I do. Just, the day I found him I was missin’ you somethin’ awful.”

“You missed me? Goodness, we’d barely gotten to know each other.”

“That’s just it. I wanted to get to know you better and then there was the tree and the goatman and then whoosh you were gone and I thought I was never-”

“-Going to see you again.” Indrid’s not looking at the tank anymore, his gaze fixed completely on Duck.

“I like you, Indrid, I like you more every day that passes, and apparently I liked you a whole fuckin’ lot before that because I couldn’t kill a fuckin’ moth larvae because whenever I thought the word moth I saw your face.”

Indrid blinks at him, head tilted to one side.

Duck smacks a hand over his eyes, embarrassed by the confession.

“Please tell me there’s a future where I sink into the ground.”

“No” a chilly hand moves his own from his eyes while the other cups his cheek, “but there are many futures where something else happens. If, that is, it’s something you want.” His smile is soft as he strokes Ducks cheek with his thumb.

“Please.” He whispers.

Indrids lips are as cold and as chapped as he expected them to be and he couldn’t be happier, wraps his arms around him and pulls him closer.

“More?” Indrid grins at him when they break apart and Ducks hands shoot up into his hair to pull him into a kiss and down onto the floor.  

“The answer is yes.” He’s panting now, staring down at Duck with delight.

“Can I at least actually ask the damn thing?”

“Sorry, go ahead.”

“Can I take you out sometime?”

The answer comes in yet another kiss, one with far more heat behind it.

“Do you, uh, wanna move this somewhere else. Don’t wanna scandalize the moth.”

“I’m his namesake, I can scandalize him as I please.” Indrid kisses his nose, “but yes, the couch will be far more comfortable.”  He stands up, offers Duck a hand, pulls him into and embrace once he stands and just holds him for a moment. As he does, Duck smiles.

Bringing home that caterpillar is one of the best things he ever did.

#indruck #indrid cold/duck newton #reader requests