#did that whole thing hopped up on painkillers | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lieutenant-cinnamon-roll · 1 year

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I wrote a thing that's very self indulgent. The picture below inspired the fic. I did write a whole thing about how I'm a shit writer so make of it what you will, but Tumblr ate it so...enjoy.

(I have also suffered with both of these illnesses so, medically at least, I am not talking out of my ass 😂)

Day One.

You looked around the cold, sterile room: the fluorescent lights, beeping machines the IV drip, and you wondered why this had to happen to you. The doctors said it could be a lot of things, but all you knew was that the left side of your body wasn't working anymore, and that you were scared.

At least you got your own room you thought, and turned your head to look out the small window. It wasn't much of a view. Infact, the window faced another building so your "view" consisted of other patients' sad little windows. It was night time now, and there were still a couple of illuminated squares.

You could see into a few different types of rooms - a break room, what seemed to be a small kitchen area, a very empty looking corridor - but the window that caught your eye was the one with a young man seemingly play fighting with a pair of crutches.

Seeing as there was no television, you figured this was about the only source of entertainment for the evening, so you watched as he gleefully wielded the walking aids, looking vaguely nonplussed that he was knocking over various things in his room in the process.

Unfortunately, a nurse came in to spoil the fun and he finally put the crutches down. However, as he did, he looked out the window and caught your eye. You smiled weakly (hoping the left half of your face was still co-operating) and he responded by pulling various silly faces. He seemed to pause after each one, as if to assess the situation and make sure he was making you laugh, which he was even if it was slightly half hearted.

The fun-spoiling nurse soon stole your new friend, ordering him back in his bed. You noticed he was hopping (now the crutches made sense) and the nurse closed the curtain.

You turned your head to face the ceiling. Back to the reality of the situation. You sighed.

Day Five.

A brain abscess. The size of a golf ball apparently. That's what the doctors had said it was, before swiftly whisking you down to surgery to drain it. Now, three days later you were grimacing through another round of IV antibiotics whilst nursing a splitting headache.

The surgeon informed you afterwards that they'd shaved a decent patch of hair during surgery but currently there were too many dressings and bandages for you to feel it, and you were on far too many painkillers to care.

The left side of your body was still paralysed, and despite desperate attempts to move your toes with all your will, fuck all was happening.

Thankfully your spirits were being kept up by your window friend who, through a series of charades and scrawled pieces of paper, you'd learned was called Dico. Every few hours you looked over at the window to see the young man causing some kind of chaos in his room, whether that's with his group of friends who all seemed to laugh a lot, or by himself with whatever he could find in the room to pass the time.

He seemed to really enjoy putting on little shows for you in the window, improvising different characters like it was a silent movie. You had to admit, he was very good. You generally caught on to the gist of whatever story he was trying to tell, your favourite so far being about a vampire's journey to finally enjoying Italian food. At least….that's what you assumed the story was.

Sometimes you played rock, paper, scissors. You didn't tell him, but you'd been keeping a tally, and he was winning 22-10, the lucky bastard.

His leg was now bound in a large bandage, meaning the crutches had to actually be used for walking now, not that it stopped him using them as props occasionally for his window skits.

You looked over at his window, but sadly the room was empty, and you didn't know how long until, or if, he would come back.

Day 11.

Movement. It was slight, but your toe definitely moved. Obviously, the first person you wanted to tell was Dico. He had weirdly become a comfort for you during this time. But even if you could figure out a way to do one-armed charades to say "my toe moved slightly", Dico was flat out in bed.

He'd looked a little more weary the past two days, and his window antics weren't full of the same crazy Dico energy you'd come to rely on. So when you woke up yesterday to doctors surrounding his bed, you were extremely concerned and you'd been waiting for him to wake up ever since.

You'd tried asking the nurse, but she couldn't tell what ward it was and said there was no "Dico" in the system. All you could do was watch and wait.

A little after midnight you woke up to see the light on in his room and Dico sitting up, staring into the distance. His hair was sticking up wildly as you saw him for the first time without his signature backward cap. Relieved, you waved to get his attention, and he smiled softly with a hint of sadness. Using your one good hand, you pointed to Dico and made the "okay" sign with your hand. He shook his head sadly and pointed to his leg and made an explosion gesture with his hands.

Ah. You'd learned over the past week or so that Dico had an infection in his leg that stemmed from an injury he got with his friends. Your guess was that your new friend was telling you the infection had spread. What do you say to someone you can't physically say something to?

You pointed to yourself, hugged your own body with your one working arm, and then pointed to Dico. He smiled more warmly at that. The news about the toe could wait.

Day 16.

You're not sure why it took you over two weeks to figure out that exchanging cell phone numbers would make this whole thing a lot easier. With Dico still fighting the infection and your leg not recovering as fast as you'd like, this meant you were both mostly confined to your beds and this made window shows more difficult. Now, you could talk freely without trying to figure out how to sign "hey I'm just going for an x-ray but I'll be back".

Even without the window antics, Dico still found ways to make you laugh. He liked to put on silly voices on the phone, or freestyle about how his day was going. He even went as far as to prank call you a couple of times, but you caught on to that prank pretty damn quick. Each time he fooled you, you would look over at his window and see him rolling around in the bed laughing, clutching his stomach.

When he finally managed to gain his composure, your phone beeped with a message.

"you're an idiot"

"Fuck you."

There was no malice in it. Truth be told, he was the only thing getting you through each day.

Day 19.

It was 3am and your phone was ringing. Dico. He'd never phone you this late before. You peeked out the window to see him, but he was seemingly lying in the dark. Puzzled, you answered.

"Hello?"

"Hey. Good you're awake"

"I am now"

The first time you spoke, you noticed his voice was deeper than you expected, but suited him perfectly. Although today he didn't sound particularly happy.

"You okay?"

He let out a long sigh. "I'm just tired of all this. I want to go home."

You were so used to Dico being funny, you felt touched he was letting you in on a vulnerable moment. But even that didn't last long.

"You look like shit by the way" he commented after you sat up and turned your light on. This gentle banter had become quite common over text, so you knew better than to take offence.

"Well when an asshole wakes me up at 3am it doesn't give me much time to make myself up"

"Wow, who is the asshole? I'm gonna beat them the fuck up with my crutches"

"Dico, they will take them off you if you keep using them as weapons"

"Now you're just ruining my fun"

You didn't end up getting much sleep that night.

Day 23.

Thankfully, there was improvement for both of you. Dico was responding well to some new aggressive antibiotics, and while he still needed regular dressing changes, the crutches were gone. Meanwhile, you'd got most of the movement back in your leg, and some finger movement.

This meant you could shuffle around and have a shower by yourself. As you looked in the mirror, the bandages now removed, you were greeted with an obnoxiously sized shaved patch of hair. You sighed, knowing that it would grow back and that having it shaved saved your life, but at this point it just felt like salt in the wound.

Now that you were on the move, you talked about meeting up with Dico soon, but you couldn't help but feel embarrassed. It wasn't just the shaved hair, it was everything. The steroids made you bloated, you had chapped lips, dry skin, messy hair and your "wardrobe" consisted of pajamas and slippers. You looked like you'd spent nearly a month in hospital, and that's because you had.

And annoyingly you couldn't help but afeel a little something for Dico. The bastard just seemed to look amazing despite being here longer than you had, and you'd become close over this time.

After your shower, you shuffled back to your bed and sat down with a large sigh.

"This got passed in for you" said a nurse as she noticed you'd sat down. You gingerly took the bag, confused as no one has mentioned dropping anything off for you, until you pulled out the contents. One of Dico's many baseball caps.

A smile spread across your face as you put the hat on, and then grabbing your phone to text the words "you wanna grab a coffee?"

Still day 23.

But it felt like 100 years for him to answer his phone with a simple "Yes.". Sometimes he was a man of infuriatingly little words. And other times, you noted, there was no shutting him up.

Dico was getting a scan, so you had a little time to prepare. With what was another question entirely. Eventually you figured Dico had already seen you at your worst, so clean jogging bottoms and a t-shirt would have to do.

Going down in the lift was agonizingly slow, and your heart felt like it was going to explode (but at least you were in the right place if that did happen, you supposed).

The doors opened, and there he was. With his hands shoved in his pockets, and swaying his shoulders slightly to dispel any nervous energy, you couldn't help but take in how attractive he was. He lifted his head and smiled widely at you before walking over and tapping the hat on your head.

"Looks good on you."

You had barely mumbled out a thanks before he had his hand on your lower back gently ushering you towards the canteen.

"So, as the long standing rock paper scissors champion, I think you owe me a coffee."

You scoffed. "I could still make a come back"

"67-32? I fuckin' doubt it"

You laughed as you realised he had also kept score. Of course he had. "We have time,"

"So," Dico said as you both sat down, "not that it's ever going to happen, what do you want if you win?"

You paused as you felt the tension build between the two of you, and the electricity as your knees touched under the table.

You smirked. "Oh I have a few ideas…"

#brandon dicamillo #cky crew #dico #cky #dico x reader #i have no idea what im doing

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shesinchargeareyoukidding · 1 year

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Stir crazy Chapter 6: Square two part two

Sunlight slowly started to sneak through gaps in the curtains when Hopper snuck back into the cabin. His arrival didn’t go unnoticed and he was greeted by the barrel of a gun and the bleary eyes of a half-awake Joyce Byers.

“Jesus Christ Joyce, careful where you aim that thing.” Hopper exclaimed. Joyce immediately shushed him, putting the gun away and ushering him outside.

“I didn’t know who you were when you opened the door. You could’ve been one of those madmen from yesterday.” She explained as she closed the door behind her.

“They wouldn’t have had a key, Joyce!” Hopper said exasperated.

“Keep it down! The kids are still asleep.” Joyce hissed. Hopper took a measured breath to calm down and nodded. They listened for a moment for any signs of life inside, but aside from the odd snore, all they heard was silence.

“Did you find Wayne?” Joyce asked quietly.

“I have an address.” Hopper shrugged, producing a piece of paper from his pocket. “It’s a long drive, and I wanted to check up on you before I went. Let’s not tell them yet, before we know for sure.” He nodded his head towards the cabin.

Joyce nodded in understanding, looking towards the cabin with sad eyes.

“How’s things been in there?” Hopper asked. Joyce shrugged. “Well, aside from the odd nightmare here and there, the kids have been asleep, so I can’t complain.” Joyce sighed. “They’ve been through so much without us, Hop. I don’t always know how to help them anymore.”

Hopper shook his head. “You help them so much, Joyce. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you last night. You fed them, you settled them. They all trust you so much. All their trust in me is gone after what happened yesterday.”

“You will gain it back. Just… promise me you will do better for Eddie.” Joyce asked, looking at him intently.

“Yeah, of course. I swear.”

“Good.” Joyce snatched the address and car keys from Hopper´s fingers. “Then go in there, make them breakfast and then talk to Eddie. I’ll go get Wayne.” She smiled as she walked off.

When Hopper entered the cabin a second time, he couldn’t help but smile at the sight that greeted him. The whole living room was a clutter of sprawled out limbs and messy mops of hair. Dustin was snoring loudly in the armchair and Max had thrown a pillow over her head to block out the noise. Everyone else was sleeping contently. As Hopper set out to make some breakfast, he couldn’t help but feel like he should cherish this tranquillity while it lasted.

He was proven right twenty minutes later. The first thing Hopper noticed was a muffled whimper coming from the couch. As he looked over, it was immediately clear who the noise had come from. Eddies pale face was tense and covered in sweat. His entire body was rigid to the point of shaking. His eyes were half open and he was biting his lip in an attempt to stifle any more noise. He locked eyes with Hopper and the first emotion Hopper found there was fear. That would not do. He carefully stepped over Mike and Eleven to get to the couch and crouched down.

“What’s wrong, kid?” He asked quietly. Eddie jerkily shook his head. “n-nothing.” He whispered. A thick tear ran down his cheek. Hopper fought the urge to reach out and wipe it away. Instead he tried again. “Come on kid, you can tell me alright? I want to help.” Eddies body spasmed and he whimpered again, quickly covering his mouth with his hand and squeezing his eyes shut. More tears escaped and ran down his face. Hopper noticed that Steve was starting to stir and knew it wouldn’t be long before everybody would wake up. “Eddie? Have the painkillers stopped working? Do you need some more?” Eddie nodded and choked out an “it h-hurts.”

“Okay. Alright. I’ll be right back.” Hopper was already on his feet.

“sorry.”

“No, no, it’s okay.

By the time Hopper returned to the couch with two painkillers and a glass of water, Steve was up and alert, frantically trying to soothe Eddie.

“He needs-“

-“I know, I got them.”

“Oh…”

Helping Eddie sit up was hell and the kid couldn’t hold back the anguished cry that ripped from his throat. At that point everybody was wide awake.

“Whats going on?!? Did the hicks find us?”

-“What the hell-“

-“Eddie! Are you okay?”

“EDDIE!”

“Shit, you guys need help?”

-“What’s going on?”

“Woah, woah, woah! Everybody settle down. The painkillers stopped working. Your shouting isn’t helping. Just give him a moment.” Hopper exclaimed, stepping in front of the couch to block the kids´ view of Eddie.

Steve carefully helped Eddie swallow the painkillers and held him until they kicked in, rocking them gently. When they did kick in, Eddie went boneless in Steve’s arms, completely exhausted and defeated.

“I was trying not to wake you…” He sniffed. Steve just held him closer, whispering reassurances in his ear. Hopper took advantage of the calmness of the moment to redirect the kids’ attention to the kitchen.

“Alright everyone! I have eggs, I can make toast, I have juice and we can check if I can find some Eggo’s in the freezer.” The last mention was made purely for El’s benefit. All the kids piped up at the same time with requests, complaints and general comments about the options they were given. As Hopper followed the kids to the kitchen, he caught the grateful look Eddie threw his way.

When everyone had been given some form of breakfast, the kids had started to notice Joyce’s absence. Hopper was able to ward off any suspicion by explaining that she went to buy more supplies and the kids thankfully bought it.

Once again Hopper made his way to the couch, this time with a glass of juice and a plate of scrambled eggs. He passed the plate to Steve and the glass of juice to Eddie, who scrunched his nose at it, but started to carefully sip at it anyway. Nancy had very quickly eaten some toast and was currently lifting up Eddies sweater to have a look at his bandages. Some blood had seeped through the ones around his middle, but it didn’t look fresh. Thank God.

“Nance, its fine.” Eddie complained as she started to tug at his sleeves to look at his arms. “Really, I barely moved.” But Nancy was having none of it.

“We can’t let them get infected, therefore we need to make sure the bandages stay secure.” She stated coolly. Eddie just sighed and relented, quietly sipping his juice while Nancy worked.

The juice was giving Eddie some much needed energy. His eyes looked more alert and his speech was much clearer and stronger than it had been the night before. Though it was not only the juice that seemed to give him strength. He seemed much more lively with the rest of the kids around him and vice versa. They were joking around with him, comforting him and sharing stories with him. Hopper was surprised to observe how integral Eddie was to the group now. Not for the first time he wondered how much he missed while he was stuck in Russia and how much this group had transformed around their newest addition. Hopper decided he didn’t mind the change he saw. Which he supposed was a good thing, but he was also frustrated at his own failure to come to this conclusion sooner. Eddie was a good kid and he was good for his kids.

“So!” Robin flopped down on the couch next to Eddie. “In the interest of having the best square two part two…” Eddie chuckled “I thought we were going with square two squared?”

“Tomayto, tomahto.” Robin shrugged with a grin. “Whatever you want. Anyway Steve and I are going back to his house to get his VHS player and some movies. Any requests?”

“Eh, you know what I like Robs, just don’t let Harrington pick any.” Eddie shrugged.

“Hey!” Steve exclaimed. Eddie sighed dramatically.

“Fine. you can pick one movie, but no more. I’m sad and hurt here Stevie, you can’t do that to me right now.” He pouted and wiped away an imaginary tear. Steve just rolled his eyes at him with a fond smile on his face. “Whatever dude, I’ll still bring what I like. We can argue about them later, but I would like some options.”

“Okay.” Eddie relented dramatically. “If you must.”

“Anybody else that needs anything from my place needs to come with me right now.” Steve told the room as he stood up and grabbed his jacket. Before he made his way out of the cabin, he cupped the side of Eddies face and kissed the top of his head. Suddenly realising what he just did, he blushed deeply and threw a fearful look at Hopper. When the former chief didn’t react in the slightest Steve released the breath he’d been holding and walked towards the door, kids in tow, throwing a “We’ll be back before you know it!” Over his shoulder. And then the door closed.

The following silence was deafening. Only Eddie, Hopper, Eleven and Dustin remained in the cabin. Eddie was awkwardly fiddling with his sleeves, Eleven was chewing her thumbnail, gazing anxiously at everyone in the room and Dustin was inching closer to Eddie, protectively glaring at Hopper. Meanwhile the former chief was awkwardly staring at the kid on the couch, grasping for words to say.

“How are you doing, kid? Feeling okay?” He ended up asking. Eddies eyes snapped up to look at him.

“Yeah, I feel fine.” His answer felt hollow to both of them.

“Are you hungry? Do you want to try and eat anything?” Hopper tried.

“N-no, I don’t think I can do that right now.” Eddie said shakily. There was a desperation to his words.

“Alright, kid. You don’t have to.” Hopper tried to soothe. It wasn’t his intention to make Eddie uncomfortable. He tried a more direct approach. “I, uhm… I suppose I should start by saying that… I said some things… yesterday, that I didn’t mean, but I-“

-“You did mean them.” Eddie interjected. He was frowning at him.

“I guess I did.” Hopper admitted after thinking about it. “But I realise now that I was full of shit.”

“I don’t think you were that far off, chief.” Eddie shrugged lightly. For all his nonchalance, Hopper could see the guarded look in the kids eyes.

“Not a chief anymore, kid. And I was wrong. I’m so sorry for everything I said and did.”

“That’s okay. I’m sorry for running away.” Came the offhand reply. Hopper sighed.

“Come on kid, work with me here. Tell me how you really feel.” He implored. Eddie gave him a long look. Large eyes looked deep into his soul. It felt to Hopper as if the kid was looking to his very core. Whatever he found there, it made Eddie look at Dustin and beckon him over. He whispered something in his ear that made Dustin furiously whisper back and shake his head. But Eddie was persistent and after some more back and forth, Dustin threw one more glare in Hopper’s direction before walking out to the porch, closing the door behind him. Eddie watched him leave and then started to speak.

“You uhm… When-“ Eddie stopped and looked back up at Hopper before starting again. “When you started yelling… it reminded me of my dad…” Hopper felt a now familiar stab of guilt in his gut. Once again, he had no idea what to say. Not for the first time he was overwhelmingly grateful for the frankness of his daughter. El looked at Eddie with interest. “Was your papa a bad man too?”

Eddie gave her a shocked and sad look and nodded. “Yeah…”

“What did he do?” El asked quietly, taking Eddies hand. Eddie took a moment to choose the right words.

“He… he made me do things I didn’t wanna do. Bad things.” He tried to explain to her.

“Mine too.” El’s quick response caught him off guard.

“Oh, kid. That sucks, I’m sorry.” Eddie looked devastated for her. El nodded solemnly.

“It’s okay, now. I have Hopper.” El stated. Eddie smiled at her. “Like I have my uncle?” He asked. El nodded.

Eddies eyes found Hopper’s again. “I don’t know how much you know about my old man… He made me steal shit, or distract people while he was stealing shit. He used to yell at me a lot. Blamed me for our… situation I guess. And if I didn’t do as he said he would h-hurt me... so… you know, not exactly ‘dad of the year’.” Eddie huffed and shook his head. “I know you’re not him. But I was upset and I don’t know… I guess I just lost it.” He shrugged. “And… and I thought if I was patient enough, if I didn’t get in the way, if I could just prove to you that I could be a good person, you would let me see my friends, that you would help me find my uncle.-” Eddie had to bite his bottom lip to stop it from wobbling. “But- but you never did. And you were never going to, were you?” Hopper couldn’t look away from the betrayal in Eddies eyes. I’m a horrible person, what was I thinking? He thought.

“I don’t think I was even thinking that far ahead. I only thought I was doing the right thing by keeping you away from everyone.” Hopper tried to explain.

“You wanted to protect the ones you love.” It wasn’t a question. And he was right, but Hopper didn’t like the way Eddie said it. Like it had been a reasonable thing to do.

“That’s what it felt like. I missed a lot while I was in Russia, and when I came back, I felt a need to make up for all the moments I couldn’t protect everyone… But there were no Demogorgons to fight and Vecna was dead, you kids took care of everything. The only threat I thought I could see… was you.” Hopper didn’t miss the way Eddie flinched and quickly added. “But you were never a threat kid, you were just someone I could aim my helplessness and anger at. I scapegoated you like the rest of this goddamn town. You didn’t deserve that and I’m so sorry.”

“What if it’s true?” The quiet question caught Hopper completely off guard.

“Stop that, kid. It’s not.” Hopper said sternly. Eddie shook his head stubbornly.

“I did sell drugs, I do know how to hotwire cars. I even did it in front of them! I wish I could take that back, man.” Eddies breath hitched. “The people here, they… they will never let me live. B-but maybe if I’m not around, they will let the others live. You were right about that much.” His head hung low and Hopper could see a tear fall onto his long sleeve.

“Eddie look at me.” He asked quietly. Eddies wet eyes found his. “If El was being hunted by a group of dangerous people, which she has been many times before, would you expect me to abandon her? Just so we could be a little bit safer?” Eddies eyes immediately narrowed as he shook his head. Hopper nodded. “Exactly. No, we wouldn’t and that’s because she’s one of us, so of course we protect her. Just like Dustin, Max, Steve, just like you are one of us.” Eddie started to look away, so Hopper grabbed his shoulders to keep him where he was. “We are not abandoning you.” He insisted, his eyes never leaving Eddies. The boy’s breath hitched wetly and Hoppers gaze softened as he regarded him. “I guess the other thing I should say to you besides ‘I’m sorry’ is thank you.” Eddie blinked at him in confusion. “huh?”

“Thank you, kid. Thank you for being here for them when I wasn’t. Thank you for helping El read. Thank you for protecting the kids when I couldn’t, for fighting for them, for giving them confidence, for making them laugh. You did amazing. Better than I ever could. You are a good person. You are one of us. And I will protect you with all I have.” Eddie didn’t know what to say. It was all way too much to take in and as the first tear fell, Hopper wrapped him in a cautious hug.

“I’m not always going to say the right thing.” Hopper explained while he rubbed Eddies back through shuddering sobs. “We might have to work through a lot of crap together.”

Eddie chuckled wetly. “ ’m used to that.” He trustingly leaned his head on Hoppers shoulder. “ ’m not always gonna say the right thing either. a-and for the record, I think you did a pretty good job just now. t-that was some powerful shit.” Hopper laughed and continued to rub the kids back through the last tears and hitched breaths. As his breathing started to even out, Hopper noticed the kid getting heavier and heavier in his arms. “You falling asleep on me kid?” He asked teasingly, pulling away, but still holding Eddie up by his shoulders. “hmm, can’t stay ‘wake.” Eddie murmured while forcefully blinking his eyes open. “That’s alright, kid. Here, lay back.” He helped Eddie to lay back down on the couch and covered him with a blanket.

“we need to let Henderson b-back in…” Eddie slurred as he tried to sit back up, only to grunt at the pull of his stitches. “Stop, Eddie. Relax. I’ll get him.” Hopper said as he pushed the boy back down. The kid was seconds away from passing out, but still resisting it. Hopper was reminded of himself when he’d come back from the army. Scared to relax because of how used he’d been to imminent danger being around every corner and afraid of the things he’d see when he’d close his eyes. “Come on, kid. I promise it’s alright, you can let go.” He tried.

“can- can you keep talking?” Came the fearful request. Hopper would do anything to ease that anxiety.

Hopper offered his hand to Eddie, which he gratefully took, and started to talk about whatever came to mind. “I think when you wake up again, Steve and the others will probably be back. Their arms will be full of VHS tapes and junk food and weird stuff the kids thought would be important to bring. Like, I don’t know, roller-skates or something. As if there’s room here to use those.” Eddie let out a weak huff of laughter, his eyes already drifting shut. Feeling encouraged, Hopper continued. “Of course this could be pretty temporary. When you’re back on your feet you can pick where you want to stay, whether that’s here or at Steve’s or somewhere else, it will be your decision.” A faint smile spread across Eddies face. Hopper squeezed the hand he was holding. “And you won’t have to worry about anything, because I will take care of it. In time we might even be able to clear your name.” Hopper could tell by the deepened breaths that Eddie had given in to sleep, still he added. “So just sleep for now, kid. Things will be alright and you won’t ever have to do this alone.”

Dustin was slightly disappointed to see Eddie had fallen asleep when he came back inside, but he made his way over to him anyway, taking his hand and sitting down on the floor beside him. Him and El started to play a strange little game they probably invented themselves and kept a constant chatter going near Eddie, who seemed completely dead to the world. Hopper had checked on his bandages, breathing, heartbeat and temperature. All seemed to be doing okay. The kid was just completely drained, not even once stirring during Hoppers examination.

Hopper decided to take advantage of this quiet moment to do some cleaning up around the cabin and before he knew it, an hour had passed and he could hear voices outside. He turned towards the door as it opened and was greeted by a tired Joyce and a weary and suspicious looking Wayne Munson. Wayne’s narrowed eyes rested on Hopper for a moment, before scanning around the cabin and finally landing on the couch and the unconscious kid that lay on it. His eyes immediately widening as they filled with tears.

“Oh, Eddie.” Wayne choked out and made a beeline for his nephew. He took a seat on the chair the Henderson kid helpfully pushed towards him. His shaking hands frantically pressed against the boy’s neck, hovered over his nose, desperately looking for anything that could indicate life, that would make this feel real. Wayne let out a choked up huff of breath when he found what he was looking for.

Careful, as if Eddie was made of glass, his shaking hands snaked behind his boy’s back and the nape of his neck and gathered him into his arms. His head now resting in the crook of Wayne’s elbow and his back supported in his uncle’s strong arms. The boy didn’t even stir.

Wayne’s eyes raked over his wounded nephew, trying to remember how he had looked the last time he saw him weeks ago. He’d been so carefree, excited to go to school the next day and finish his campaign. He had grinned at Wayne as he had shovelled his dinner in his mouth, talking his uncle’s ear off about his plans with this ‘Vecna’ fellow.

The boy he held in his arms now was pale, limp, thin. There was a pained frown line between Eddies eyebrows, which Wayne immediately tried to smooth out with his thumb. He tentatively lifted the oversized sweater to reveal the bandages underneath and all colour left his face at the sight. Wayne quickly dropped the sweater and brought his nephew even closer to him, as if he could protect him from the world by holding him like that forever. “My boy…” Wayne lamented in disbelief as his vision blurred with tears. “How… What happened?”

Hopper sighed sadly. “I’m sorry Wayne, we can’t tell you much as of right now.”

“Will he be alright?” He looked at Hopper with desperate eyes.

“He will be, Wayne. I promise.”

Wayne nodded and let his head drop onto Eddies’. He allowed himself to finally believe that this was real. That he finally had his nephew back. That he’d survived. He didn’t even notice his tears falling onto Eddies hair.

“He’s a hero mr. Munson. He thinks he’s not, but he is.” Dustin stepped forward and ignored the warning look Hopper was sending him. “He saved my life and… and he almost died.” Dustin swallowed around a lump in his throat. He had to let Wayne know how much Eddie meant to him. “E-even when he thought he was dying he w-was trying to smile. To comfort me. He’s always done that, mr. Munson. Despite the town hating him, despite all the pain, he never stopped being Eddie.” Wayne´s shoulders started to shake as he clung to Eddie´s unconscious form.

“He’s a brave boy.” Hopper offered. Wayne nodded into Eddies hair. “I know. God, I know.” Wayne managed a smile as he lifted his head to look upon his nephew again. “My brave boy…” He smiled proudly while running his hand through the Eddies curls.

Eddies consciousness resurfaced like it had been dipped into thick molasses. His body felt far away and heavy. Vaguely he could hear voices talking above him. He felt warm fingers running through his hair and an arm holding him securely. He couldn’t fully wake himself or even move his body. Yet he felt… safe.

Then he smelled it. Coffee, cigarettes and pine trees… home. When he managed to blink open his eyes he could see that his nose was buried in the sleeve of an old flannel shirt. It couldn’t be…

“w-wayne?” He asked weakly The arms holding him jolted in shock and then held him tighter.

“Yes, kid. It’s me. I’m here. I’m right here.” Answered the gruff voice he knew so well. It was him. It was him! An avalanche of every emotion overtook him, but above all else he felt fear. Fear. Fear! Why was he always so afraid?

“wayn- i didn’t- i wouldn- i didn’t h-hurt her wayne i s-swear… p-please believe m-me…” He struggled to speak, looking up at the man that raised him.

Wayne’s heart broke upon seeing his nephew’s terrified eyes. He was still half asleep and already beside himself with fear. “Oh, Ed. Of course ya didn’t. That ain’t you, boy. You know that as well as I.” He brought Eddie closer to him and let him bury his face in his flannel, while he rested his head on his nephews curls. “I missed ya so much Ed.” He sighed as he held Eddie through heartbroken sobs.

“i’m s-sorry f-for leaving.” Eddie choked out.

“I’m glad ya did. Kept you away from all those folks ready to blame ya for all this.”

“b-but i l-left her. y-you had to f-find her l-like that…” Eddie sobbed out. He was shaking like a leaf. Wayne started to rub his hand up and down the boys back.

“Sssh. It’s alright.”

“i s-should’ve helped her…” He cried brokenly.

Dustin stepped forward. “She was already dead Eddie. There was nothing you could’ve done.” Eddie let out a gut wrenching cry and clung to Wayne like he was the only thing keeping him from falling into a million pieces.

“Sssh… I’m here. Everything’s gonna be alright now, Eddie. I gotcha now.” Wayne affirmed over and over.

“i m-missed you…”

“Sssh…”

“d-don’t leave me…”

“Never, Eddie. You’re my boy. I’ll always be there.” He’d told Eddie this a thousand times before and he would do it a thousand times more if that´s what it took.

“i love you…”

“I love you too, Ed. So much.”

The sobs slowly stilled, and Eddies pale face went slack. Everyone in the cabin took a moment to discreetly wipe away their tears. Wayne took a blanket from the couch and carefully draped it over Eddie, then he turned his grateful eyes to Joyce and Hopper.

“Thank you for bringing my boy back to me. And for taking care of him.” He said. Hopper shifted uncomfortably.

“How much did Joyce tell you about Eddies time here?” He asked.

“Not much. Just that him and his friends had been living here and that Eddie was hurt.” Wayne shrugged, looking at Hopper curiously. “Why?”

“I think you should know, Wayne. I uhm… I didn’t do such a great job at taking care of Eddie.”

So Hopper told him about the past couple of weeks. How he had been treating Eddie, his reasoning behind doing so, their subsequent falling out and Eddies state as a result. He concluded with. “I’m so sorry Wayne. He deserves so much better.”

Wayne stoically took all of it in and thoughtfully looked out of the window. He took a deep breath and regarded Hopper once more. “He forgive you?” He asked, nodding to Eddie who was still tucked safely in his arms. Hopper nodded slowly “I think so. But I didn’t forgive myself just yet.”

Wayne nodded. “My boy don’t do grudges, Hopper. He’s way too preoccupied with other things for that. He’s quick to forgive and move on and so am I, but I will tell you this…” Wayne fixed him with the most terrifying glare he’d ever seen on anyone. “If ya break his trust ever again, you got me to deal with and I’m not quick to forgive a second offence. You can ask his daddy all about that.” Hopper swallowed despite himself but gave Wayne a determined nod.

“Noted.”

“Good.” Wayne affirmed before turning back to his boy.

“So, where are the other kids at?” Joyce asked, breaking the tense atmosphere.

“Oh they’re at Steve’s house to get some stuff. This stage in Eddies recovery is something to be very excited about, apparently. I’ve been told it’s like a giant sleepover.” Hopper huffed with an amused shrug.

“ s-square two.” A weak voice from the couch piped up. Two shaky fingers were raised from under his thick blanket while twinkling half-lidded eyes made eye contact with Hopper.

“Right, square two.” Hopper sheepishly recalled, earning a weak grin from Eddie.

“Go back to sleep, Ed.” Wayne murmured fondly while he lowered his nephew’s hand back onto the blanket.

“kay.” Eddie nuzzled into Wayne’s flannel sleeve and promptly fell back asleep. Wayne smiled as he tucked to blanket more securely around him and kissed his forehead.

“Everything’s gonna be alright now, Eddie.” He said, like he’d never been more sure of anything in his entire life. “I gotcha now and I’m not letting go.”

Everything would be okay.

THE END

Aaaaah I did it guys! First fic I ever finished! Please let me know if this was a satisfying end for you and what you thought of the overall story.

#eddie munson whump #eddie munson #wayne munson #jim hopper #steve harrington #stranger things fanfiction #hurt eddie munson #eddie munson fanfiction #dustin henderson

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maewiiweam · 10 months

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ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀʀᴛʏ

"Okay, all patched up. Can you move your knees?", the nurse asks, making me look down at my in bandages covered knees. I dangle them a bit then look up at her. She gives me an approving nod and I hop off the examination table.

"If you feel any pain, take some painkillers, okay? If you don't have any you can just come back to me. Also, the bandages need to be changed twice a day", the nurse informs me and gives me a piece of paper, an excuse-slip, and smiles at me. I smile back and thank her before leaving. Outside I fish my phone out of my bag, when I see a familiar pair of shoes on the floor. I look up to see Leander, he actually waited for me.

"Are you alright, love? How are your knees?" He asks, looking down at me. Oh the things I'd do to have him look at me from this angle daily...

"You alright?", he repeats and puts his hand on my shoulder, pulling me out of my thoughts. Oh boy was his grip strong.

"Yeah, sorry. I'm fine, it doesn't really hurt anymore. Thank you for coming with me, I really appreciate it" I give him a smile, trying to cut the conversation short. Why do I feel so intimidated and small in his presence...?

"You're welcome, darling. Do you want me to walk you to your dorm?", he offers.

"No, it's alright. It's not that far away. Thank you though. See you tomorrow, I guess" I wave at him, not waiting for an answer and quickly walking toward my dorm.

Hopefully Mary saw my messages because I did not bring my keys.

"Sooo when's the wedding?" My roommate teased me after I told her what had happened in the last hour. Honestly, it felt like this happened in the course of a week.

"Very funny. He's basically a teacher!" I said standing up and going to my closet. Ugh, I need to find a good outfit for tonight's party. I should wear something that covers my knees though.

"Do you maybe have something that covers my knees but doesn't make me look like a grandma?" I ask Mary across our dorm, knowing she's already on her bed watching TV.

„Uuuh, don't you have that purple cowgirl set?" She responds, oh yeah I do. I shout a quick thanks and go on to search it.

„Just please, leave the hat home" She pleads making me chuckle, of course I wasn't going to take the stupid hat.

As Rachel, Mary and I walk into the huge house, where the party is happening, I can't help myself but widen my eyes. Such a beautiful mansion, getting destroyed by drunk college kids. In there we try our best to find Freddy and Soup, who got here like half an hour ago, which seems impossible. On our search, we kind of lost Rachel to one of her friends from her law course. After maybe 10 minutes Mary and I sit down at one of the, probably 20, bars.

"Man, why is this house so huge?" My friend asks making me shrug my shoulders.

"I wonder how anyone can afford this shit." She returns a giggle while looking at the menu. Yes, they have a whole fucking menu.

"Yo, you want a whole, entire lamb for dinner?" She asked me showing it to me on the menu, I take it thinking she is joking.

"What the fuck?" I laugh, handing it back.

"What drink do you want?" Mary asks me as I look at her.

"I don't know, what do they have?"

"They have lots and lots of things, Izzy. But nothing you desire right now, I think. " She smiles, she's so funny. Just then I catch her looking at the crowd of people as if she was searching someone.

„Looking for someone?" I get her attention smiling at her surprised face. „Are you in love, Mary?" I said teasingly putting emphasis on the word „love". She gives me a sarcastic smile and fake laughs a bit.

„No, Izzy. I'm looking for my brother. I told him I'd be here" She says in a tone that makes it sound like the most obvious thing. I wonder who he is and if I'll ever meet him.

„His boxing practice got cancelled today, so I asked him if he wanted to join." She explains more still looking around, hoping to see his familiar face.

„Well, what does he look like? Maybe I can help?"

„No it's okay, I can just-" She turns around to look at me. „Would you mind staying alone for a bit? You know so I can go check if he's here" I giggle and nod my head.

„I wouldn't mind, go ahead. I can take care of myself." She gives me a warm smile and a hug before running off. Leaving me alone at the bar, ready to empty it all.

I spend maybe 20 minutes here, ordering drinks for myself watching not to over do it. I can feel myself getting a lil dazed, making me stop even looking at the bar. Maybe next time I'll empty it out.

„Hello pretty printsessa" I hear a familiar voice making me turn my head in his direction, only to be faced with Mattheo placing himself next to me on a barstool.

„Hey Mattheo." I say trying to avoid eye contact. Those damn eyes making my knees weak with all the memories they hold. He lets out a loud „tsk" sound at my actions.

„How rude of you" He takes my chin between his thumb and pointer finger pulling my chin up to look at him. „Did you dads not teach you to look people in the eye when you're talking to them?" He has his infamous smirk on his lips. God, he knows what he's doing.

I look at him dumbfounding with my mouth slightly agape, scanning his face. Christ. I realise what's happening and shake my head put of his grip. I'm letting myself go. Fuck the alcohol, I'm never having fun again.

„Okay, sorry. I didn't mean to make you all flustered and uncomfortable." He leans back onto the bar, manspreading. I nod, turning my head to the crowd, a little something in me wanted one of my friends to appear and save me. But the tingling in my stomach wanted them to stay away as long as possible.

„What drink do you want?" He asks, at first I don't respond too caught up in my thoughts. But then he puts his hand on my back making me sit up straight with a quiet gasp.

„Calm down, malishka. I just ask what drink you want? Is my touch making you this excited" I turn around to him and roll my eyes at Mattheo. To which he only responds with a laugh.

„I don't know, you choose." I say, rather quietly but still in his hearing range, hopefully he'll just accept it.

„Sure" He turns around and orders for us. This is gonna be a long night. But thankfully it isn't awkward between us. We aren't looking like a broken up couple but more like an active couple. A couple out to enjoy their night. To have some fun. To show one another some love.

„Round one, on me." He turns back to you with your drinks, handing you one. „Cheers, printsessa" He laughs as we clash our glasses together. The taste letting me know it's just simple beer.

After many more drinks I was starting to feel a little dazed and Mattheo was starting to look really hot. Making me really horny. I was trying to listen to him talk about some tattoo ideas he had or some shit. I'm more so concentrating on his lips and the way they move, wondering if they'd move the same way on my body. Fuck, stop. You can't do this, not with him. You told yourself. But you want to so bad. Another voice in my head would chime in.

He eventually catches up to my distracted gaze, smirking.

„Did the alcohol make you horny, malishka" Am I hallucinating or is this really happening? Did he really just ask me that?

„Do you want me to take you upstairs and make you feel good, hm?" Mattheo teases, knowing my body better than I do it was clear this is going to go very wrong.

„Baby, I asked you a question." He warns and I just look at him dumbfounded, again. He is too good at this game, fuck my wall I'm letting him break it down. Scratch that, I'm doing it myself

„Yes, please."

#ADR #maewiwrites

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bluepenguinstories · 1 year

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Remoras Full Chapter LXXI: In Cold Blood

…

….

…..What else...can I say? I brought this...on myself.

The shuttering of windows, looking inside a seashell. Darkness. Smooth, brown. Light.

Darkness again.

Hmm. This feels familiar. Is this what it’s like to be a newborn? How is it that I know so much?

Conical, dim lights shone down from the brown room. Its swirling, spiral design breached through my eyelids. What comfort darkness brought was stolen away, and along with it, my blissful ignorance.

I know there’s a reason I’m here.

“Wakey, wakey, Lazarus,” someone greeted from nearby. They sounded irritable. No, scratch that. She sounded irritable.

I’ve heard it’s bad to make deals with devils. Is there a saying for someone who makes a deal with a doctor? I think it’s easier to accumulate regrets when you’re alive than when you’re dead. Not that I want to go through that again, but...aw, fuck. I’m way too conscious.

I squinted. Maybe if I closed my eyes real tight, I would fall asleep right away. I could escape the land of the living (and the consequences of my actions) for a little longer.

“Yeah, before you go back to sleep, I just wanted to let you know that I already know you’re awake,” that damn doctor informed me. Didn’t doctors take an oath? This one sure loved to rub salt in wounds.

I’m not just being bitter, I’m not just being petty, I’m not just being angry, I’m…

I turned my head away from wherever I figured the doctor was.

The pillow was soft, albeit squishy. It felt like plastic more so than any other material, which made me rather sad. It made little crinkling noises when I turned my head.

Still squinting, I tried to force myself back to sleep to no avail.

I don’t feel cold, or warm, for that matter. No, it’s like an unbearable numbness.

“How long has it been?” The words came out like an echo and I didn’t even realize I had said it until long after it left my mouth. The reverb was a nice effect, though, I’ll give it that.

“Not long enough,” replied another woman. Not irritated, but...livid?

“Ignore her,” said Dr. Cold-Slob.

Let’s see...if that’s the doctor, then the other must be...the reason I’m here in the first place.

“Ignore who?” I asked, and that time I noticed my voice wasn’t the soft and airy snarl I tended to have, but more like a faint and listless mumble.

“Exactly. And to answer your question, it’s been about a week.”

My eyelids slid open. I swear, I didn’t mean to open them. I caught the outline of her white lab coat. It was blurry, but if I just focused hard enough, I was sure I could catch some finer details, like the hems of her coat.

Not only did I notice that, however, but also a silver bar rested on the side of the mattress. There was a thick, green blanket covering me. That was the next thing I noticed.

When I reached to try to pull the blanket up further, I felt a twist in my chest followed by a sharp, tearing sensation. I almost yelped out in pain and let out a hissing sound in the process.

“Lay back down. Take it easy. No jerking motions. Your wound hasn’t fully healed, and it may be some time before it does.”

I eased myself back down. That was when I noticed the tubes on my arms.

Oh, bother.

I stared up at the murky, caramel colored ceiling and began to see crackling static.

Ah. This must be shock.

Faint, lightheaded. I would like to say that was nothing new, but that didn’t make it any less unpleasant.

“Can you hear me? Try to stay awake,” urged the doctor without any sense of urgency in her tone.

My eyes turned in her direction as I squinted.

I wanted, more than anything, to chew her out.

You try being confined to a bed for a week after sustaining a fatal injury and hopped up on all sorts of sedatives and painkillers that still aren’t enough to mask the fact that some shit really just stinks, and then tell me to try to stay awake again. I dare you.

“So…I’ve been asleep a whole week…I have been told I’m good in bed,” I rasped out.

The doctor paced about the room. I didn’t watch her, but her footsteps were loud enough that I didn’t have to. She must have been wearing some pretty heavy heels.

“You’re not half as clever as you think you are,” she said, “and for the record, this isn’t the first time you’ve been awake. Maybe the first time you’ve been awake longer than a few seconds, but I’ve been monitoring you pretty closely. It was touch and go for a while. There was a faint pulse, then it fell flat for a second or two, only to pick back up at a by a few increments. Did you know that a pulse doesn’t guarantee someone will make it?”

I didn’t answer that.

“Anyway, things still weren’t very stable until a day later. Even then, you weren’t conscious until a few days after that. I hope you had some sweet dreams.”

I don’t remember...any…

My eyelids grew heavy. I’d have to power through this lecture.

“Did you know that some people when they receive a fatal injury might briefly get better, only to die soon afterward? You still might not make it.”

“You’re a terrible doctor,” I groaned.

“I’m a great doctor. If I wasn’t, you wouldn’t be alive right now.”

“One concern was whether or not you’d go into a coma. There’s still that possibility. As it stands, it looks like you haven’t suffered any brain damage. Count yourself lucky on that front.”

“Not like there’s anything to damage.”

“You’re only insulting yourself by saying those things. Anyway, the wound you received just barely missed the heart. That doesn’t mean your injury wasn’t concerning, as your little friend pulled the weapon out after thrusting it in you. That’s a no-no. You’re never supposed to remove a weapon that has been lodged in you. Because of that, you bled out like a geyser.”

“Why do I feel like I’m being scolded right now?” The redhead asked. I turned my eyes toward the direction, off to my right, where she sat in a chair.

“Why are you here?” I asked, and somehow managed to get the words out before the doctor could answer.

“I have no more animosity toward you. As far as I’m concerned,” Nemesis turned toward me, “the debt’s been paid – you experienced what it’s like to die.”

Her mouth hung open like she had more to say, but instead, she lowered her head.

“No, that’s still not true. It can never be fully paid. You were able to come back from it. I can’t say the same for the ones I have lost.”

She began to sob and the doctor knelt down and held her tight as Nemesis cried on the doctor’s shoulder.

“There, there. Grief is a process,” Dr. Cole-Slaw comforted.

Why can’t I be comforted like that? Oh, right. Because I’m stuck in this bed. Oh, well. I can’t say she doesn’t deserve it. After all, she’s right: even if I weren’t to come back, the debt never would have been paid in full. Still, even if all I could do was grant her a moment’s worth of satisfaction...no, that still doesn’t justify it:

In the end, I still make senseless sacrifices.

I fell back to sleep after that. At least I had some sort of dream before waking back up, something involving a short, young woman with wavy, green hair. They weren’t purely pure thoughts, but my thoughts weren’t purely impure, either. I was at least glad to have thoughts that were my own, even if those thoughts were centered on someone else.

When I came to, I had my head turned to the side, facing the wall.

My eyelids rolled open, like a curtain being drawn. And like a curtain on a stage, the main cast appeared: Demetria, sitting to my left in a chair beside the wall. The one I had been dreaming about, right beside me.

Ah. It wasn’t a dream. It was a memory. A sweet, warm memory. Ill fitting for a cold person like me, yet I must cherish it all the same.

Her eyes looked misty. Her lips quivered, like she wanted to frown, but was forcing herself to have a gentle smile, instead. Her worry was clear; she never was much of a gentle person, always rash and stumbling into things. She made her feelings direct, but in a clumsy manner. At times overbearing, and other times, withdrawn. I suppose it could have never been love at first sight with traits like hers, but looking back, it was rather amusing.

“Are we girlfriends?” She whispered while leaning in.

“Yeah,” I replied with a whisper of my own while staring into kaleidoscopic eyes.

She reached out her hand and stroked my hair with the back of her palm. As she brushed down the side of my hair, she reached my ear and brushed the top of my ear with her index finger. She didn’t stop there, but instead continued to slide her finger down with light motions until she reached my earlobe. There, she took her thumb and made small, pinching motions against my earlobe.

A chilly, tingling sensation erupted and I squirmed in place, causing the wound on my chest to ache and I gasped out a quick, “ow!”

I continued to stare at her as I tried to keep myself in place and ease my heart. Her smile...I couldn’t tell if it was gentle or wicked, yet it didn’t bother me in the slightest.

She pulled her hand back. That she still had that wide (where it was once slight) smile meant that my torment wasn’t over.

I was proved correct when she leaned her head in and wrapped her small, wet lips around my earlobe. I felt her hot breath, an airy, yet wet huff. She made little sucking movements, then began stroking my earlobe with her tongue in little, but rapid flicking motions.

“Haa…” I couldn’t believe how much such a small act was turning me on.

She let go, but her mouth, still close to my ear, whispered, “be careful.”

“Easy for you to say,” I scoffed while smirking. “Striking me when I’m most vulnerable.”

She pulled away in a sudden jerk.

I turned my head, her face was beet red.

“W-Well…I was just happy, is all!” She spat while getting up.

“That’s certainly one way to express that.”

She had one arm tucked with her palm on the back of her neck as she paced about the room.

“You know, I wasn’t sure you would make it. I was against this idea from the very start, but I knew I couldn’t stop you,” she said while the devious smile she held lowered into more of the worried expression she wished to give before I woke up. “I feel like you’ve domesticated me. Like I’ve just become some dutiful housewife. You know, I hate that, right? I should have done more to stop you. Like throw a knife at you. Told you, ‘if she doesn’t kill you, I’ll do it myself’. Maybe then you would understand. But at the time I just felt like I couldn’t stop you. I can’t make you want to live. That has to be something you want, right?”

“I do want to live,” I told her.

I knew I must have caused her a great deal of pain. She made that clear enough, to the point where I lowered my smile as well.

“Then why?” She asked.

“I just treated it like a mission,” I admitted, “I told you this, I told Ray too: I didn’t want to die, but I also didn’t want it to keep going on. I needed to find a way to resolve my conflict with Nemesis. So I took a gamble, a big risk. All that was going on in my head was ‘win at all costs, even if that cost is your own life’. I know it’s wrong. I considered faking my death, just to appease her, but I knew that would have only filled her with more rage if she ever found out. Not to mention, I couldn’t bear to hide from her any more than I have already.”

“I understand, but…”

“But?”

“...If that’s the way it’s going to be, maybe we should break up?”

My heart thumped. I was pretty sure she was playing with me, but even just the thought, right as we got together.

“Why?” I asked her.

A streak of tears ran down her cheek as her head hung low. She cracked a smile.

“I’m sorry. I’m afraid I’m in too deep to do that. This is the ‘Sunk Cost Remora’, isn’t it?”

“I’m afraid I don’t get it.”

“It’s just that: some old habits don’t just die hard. Some don’t die at all. I’m willing to bet that yours didn’t, even after you did. So, it’s with a heavy heart that I ask: if I gave you the mission to love me, and live as long as your body will allow, by my side, would you see that mission through, no matter what?”

“I’m sorry...what?”

Demetria shook her head. She hardened her face, and with a forceful resolve, pointed right at me as if she was an attorney and I was on trial.

“Can you see it through? You know what I’m saying, don’t you?”

I closed my eyes.

Yes, even if the string of words were hard to parse on their own, I believe I understood the meaning well enough.

With a smile, I answered her:

“You ask a lot of me. But luckily for you, I like a challenge,” I rasped with my chilly, yet familiar voice.

It really did feel like I was returning to life. Or maybe continuing my life, as a changed person.

“I can’t promise I can pay you worth your time. This job comes with many risks.”

“Hey, a job’s a job,” I shook my head, still smiling.

“Not this one. This isn’t one of those jobs that you can finish in one fell swoop. This is an ongoing assignment. You could consider it more along the lines of a career. And if you fail this job, well, I don’t think I have to tell you what the consequences will be.”

“Any job worth doing is worth doing right. Even if I might mess up and stumble along the way, I’ll keep going until I get it right.”

I opened my eyes and gave her my attention. It was almost as if I was a puppy, sitting and waiting to be told whether I did a good job or not.

She lifted her head up, her smile turning to one of pride.

“I’m really glad you came all the way to the hospital to see me,” I told her.

She tilted her head. As if she were a puppy trying to understand the sounds the human just made.

“Of course, I’d go anywhere to see you. But you know, we’re not at the hospital right now.”

“We’re not?”

“We’re in the tunnel system under the diner. Remember? We constructed several rooms down here. Well, Dr. Cole-Slaw borrowed some of the equipment from the hospital and dragged you down here.”

“Wow.”

“I know, right? She really went the extra mile, and I’m not just talking literally. She’s not the only one, either: the bastard who killed you, Nemesis, she’s been watching over you, hoping you’d wake up all this time. Ridiculous, huh? She took your life, but she’s been praying for you to make it anyway. She’s been living with us at the diner as a result, which I’m trying to get used to.”

“Wow.”

“Are you going to keep saying that?”

“Depends on if you have more amazing things to tell me.”

“Right. I’m just giving you the rundown. So Tigershark hasn’t been over. Ray hasn’t told her what happened with you, and he just gave her some bullshit excuse. I suggested to Sunny that she could take Tigershark to see Sunny’s daughter, as I’m sure that would make the kid happy, at least. Sunny said she’d have to ask her sister if that would be okay, but if her sister said yes, she’d take Tigershark out.”

“I see,” I wasn’t so wowed that time, just...concerned. What was I, some best kept secret?

“I know you might not agree with some of their actions, but everyone here cares about you. Maybe you don’t think you deserve it all. I mean, you’ve killed plenty of people in the past, and I know I don’t need to remind you of that. Some people might call you evil. You may have even thought that about yourself. You may still. As for me, I’ve made my bed, so to speak, and now I want to lie in yours.”

“I’m sorry. You can’t,” I told her with just a pinch of regret. It wasn’t that I didn’t want her to, it was just that with my wounds, it might have been a bad idea. “Ha. Not like that. But, you know...Dr. Cole-Slaw and Nemesis are upstairs. One’s having a drink, the other’s having a smoke, and so at the moment, I have you all to myself. I must say, this isn’t a bad angle to view you in.”

“Pfft, please,” I scoffed, “I thought you were a bottom.”

“You remember what we did the night before you went off to fight Nemesis, don’t you?”

“Of course. How could I forget?”

She was in my room.

The light was on.

It was a bright, white light. It was evening.

She was in my bed, on her back, head against the plain, white pillow. She had on a green and red, plaid miniskirt and long, white stockings. Her knees were folded up, and her legs were spread. I stood beside the bed, in front of her, still in my black, wool pants, and my black, leather jacket. Neither of which kept me warm, but instead, my thoughts gave me all the warmth I needed.

Said thoughts were trained on her panties, so clearly in view. They were a plain cloth, purple in color, and although the fabric wasn’t thin, I could make out the indents on the ends of her legs, and the folds between.

I wanted to kiss up her legs until I reached up to her panties. Maybe I would give her inner thighs a hickey – on each thigh, no less. I would slip off her panties with my teeth and without pulling them off her legs completely, bring my face in and lick against the folds of her labia.

I believe that was what some would call ‘turned on’ or even ‘horny’. I’m not sure I could deny that in good faith.

“Are you nervous?” I asked.

“I dressed for the occasion. I figured this would be the most appropriate attire,” she looked up and answered. “You know, like how a businessman might wear a suit and tie.”

“I think the proper attire in this situation would be no attire,” I told her.

“Oh.”

There was no doubt she was nervous. Truth be told, I was too.

Oh, I’ve had sex before. I’ve even fucked. Perhaps much rougher than the intentions I had going into this. But none of those prior experiences changed the fact that at that very moment, I was nervous.

I crawled up onto the bed, one knee on the edge, the other knee inching closer to her. My arms were by her sides. I held my palms over hers, and I wasn’t sure who initiated it, but we ended up locking her fingers in each other’s hands.

I made my way closer. Never mind the fact that I was large enough to fill the whole bed. At that moment, I felt like a snake slithering closer. But not a slithering snake, no. Even though my tongue was out, and I was sure my teeth would come into play later, I could have assured her that my bites weren’t venomous.

So I began, one kiss against her ankle, then her calves. I alternated between legs. At times, it felt like I was dragging my lips along.

It seemed to go well, and I thought I could feel the heat rise up in her and enter me, but then she began to speak:

“Oi! That me leg!” She cried out in what sounded like an imitation of a welsh accent while thrashing and kicking her leg about and I had to move my head out of the way, lest it be kicked in. I held her leg up by her thigh and stared into her eyes.

“Get a grip!” I growled.

“I can’t help it! I’m ticklish!” She laughed.

I tried kissing her thigh, hoping that I hadn’t lost momentum. I think I could tell it was starting to get less sexy, though, when she began squirming again and laughing again, even as I did my damnedest to hold her still.

I gave up. Perhaps too soon.

I lowered my head onto the bed and let go of her.

“I can’t do this. You killed the momentum,” I groaned.

“Oh, come on, it’s not that bad,” she reached over and stroked my hair. I looked up with a glum expression, only to see her with that goofy squiggly smile and she began laughing as if she had the hiccups.

I began laughing as well.

“Who does that? Goes ‘oi, that me leg’? Seriously?” I pounded my fist on the mattress and the mattress shook.

“Sorry, sorry. Let’s take it from the top, okay? I really wanna do this. I mean it.”

“Right. In cases like these, I should lead by example,” I lifted myself up and leaned in, my face next to hers and my right arm between her legs.

With my left hand, I held her chin up.

“Are you nervous?” I asked.

She gulped, and I thought I spied a bead of sweat run down her cheek.

At the same instance, my thumb found its way into the seam of her panties. I felt the crease that led to the opening, and I traced my thumb along.

“That me…” She answered, weakly, while shivering. Before she could finish that statement, I opened my mouth and leaned in for a kiss. My tongue met hers and I felt her hot breath enter mine. Our tongues coiled around each other, but while I could have gotten lost in the moment, my hand couldn’t; it pulled her panties away by its thumb and once it was midway around her thighs, my hand pulled away as well and found its way back between her legs, right where I felt her soft, pink labia and the little hairs around her crotch.

I caressed my middle finger along and brushed against the opening. It must have tickled her as well as she shook and shivered about.

I released from the kiss and pulled my face back, only to ask:

“Do you want me to stop?”

She shook her head and bit her lip.

With my middle and ring finger, I eased my way in and met the warm and inviting wetness. I began to stir up, caress from within, and she let out a series of heavy sighs.

She, at this point, was leaned up against the wall, and I began to work my fingers faster as her sighs turned to coarse huffs. She grabbed onto my wrist and those same huffs turned to cute little whimpers.

“Careful,” I whispered, “others are sleeping right now.”

She nodded and we kissed once again, even as she moaned through our kisses.

It seemed she was nearing climax, but as if forcing herself not to, she let go of my wrist and leaned in, her face still flushed and still letting out her ecstatic voice even while trying to keep quiet. She reached up to my crotch and through the fabric of my pants, began to caress. First from below, then up. An unsteady rhythm, sure, as she was still shaking from pleasure, but her soft caresses made me shiver in a way I couldn’t quite call cold.

I smiled, chuckled a little.

“Ah, I’ve been inconsiderate, haven’t I?” I asked with a smirk, while slowing the motion of my fingers to a crawl before letting go. She let out a little whimper and I kissed her forehead to reassure her.

With both hands at my hips, I slid my pants off and tossed them onto the floor.

She seemed to have stars in her eyes when she saw my black, laced panties and the little blue bow at the top.

“Cute,” she said with a slight echo in her voice.

She had her palm cupped over my panties and looked up.

“Is it really okay?” She asked, her lips pursed.

“Yeah,” I smiled down at her. That side of her was cute as well.

“What if I mess up?”

“There will be many chances. Even if I end up not getting into it, just seeing you try makes me happy.”

That seemed to be the wrong answer. She looked away, contemplative. She must have sensed what was coming just the very next day.

“Will there really?” She asked, not looking me in the eye.

“Would you rather we fuck like there’s no tomorrow?” I asked.

She stared up, then began to chuckle into her fist.

“I don’t know if my heart could handle that,” she laughed.

“What would make you happiest right now?”

“Um…” She gave it some thought, then looked up and asked, “can I feel under your panties?”

“Of course.”

She reached her hand up and slid it under my panties. She rubbed downward, and her middle finger rubbed up against my vaginal wall.

I winced and smiled.

“You’re wet,” she remarked, as if in awe.

“Yes. Feeling you, and hearing your moans turned me on,” I said.

She blinked and looked down, embarrassed.

“Hey. Your voice is lovely,” I said.

She looked up with a bright smile.

She continued to stroke along. Honestly, it didn’t feel like much. But seeing her smiling and enjoying herself was enough for me.

“Um. Since you said it turns you on when I feel good, can you put your fingers back inside me?” She asked.

I snook my head.

“Tsk. You’re so needy,” I pretended to disapprove, but she leaned back and I leaned forward.

“Heh,” she smiled, already awaiting my touch.

I couldn’t say it was the best sex I ever had, but it must have been the warmest I ever felt after all was said and done. The only time I ever came close to as warm as that was the next day, when I died and I felt the blood leave me. Of course, I do hear in some circles, orgasms get referred to as “the little death”. How one differentiates between a little death and a big death, I had no idea, but by the time we had finally finished, she managed to reach climax at least twice, and I came close to...er...coming.

“Anyway, it’s clear by now what our sexual inclinations are,” Demetria was standing in front of the bed where I, still recovering from my injury, lay. It turns out I couldn’t bask in the memory forever. “And while I wouldn’t call myself so much of an opportunist, notions like ‘top’, ‘bottom’, ought to mean little to us at this point.”

“Uh-huh…” I nodded along. Whatever she was about to lecture me on, I was sure it would be something ridiculous.

“That said, in a manner of speaking, when life hands me lemons, but I don’t have the means to make lemonade, am I just going to let those lemons go to waste? Hell no. I’ll bite the lemons like an apple if I have to, skin included.”

“Why would you bite the skin?”

“I don’t know, what else am I going to do? I’m going to do something with those lemons.”

“Sure, but couldn’t you at least peel them first?”

“That’s beside the point. I’m not going to look a gift lemon in the mouth, is the point. In your current state, I don’t see a way for you to top.”

“I guess...but it’s not like we’re going to have sex right now.”

“There’s still plenty of things I can do to you.”

“Oh?”

“You wouldn’t believe how horny I’ve been all week.”

“Right. Well, I’m tired. Probably all the painkillers they’ve got me hooked on, so I’m going back to sleep.”

“Wait. Can I give you a kiss first?” She rushed over to my side.

“Yeah, I suppose I can do that much considering how long you’ve waited for me to wake up.”

I closed my eyes and waited. When I finally felt her reach down, she kissed...the tip of my nose.

“Sweet dreams, homie,” she dashed off.

My eyes shot open.

“What the fuck?” I whispered, just a tad perturbed.

When I woke up next, there was a folding tray next to my bed, to my left, with a plate full of scrambled eggs and toast.

“Huh?” I was surprised to see such food. Obviously, it was for me. Who else could it have been for? But it still stood to question why it was for me.

“So it’s true,” came a soft and masculine voice off to the right side of the room, near the door. I turned to see Ray, all clad in black, propped against the wall, arms folded, with a cup of tea in one hand. “You really have returned.”

“You would know, wouldn’t you? Didn’t Demetria or Dr. Cole-Slaw tell you?”

Yes, a simple, ‘hello, nice to see you, too’ would have sufficed. But this was Ray. He could take it.

“Actually, Nemesis let me know. She was the one who made your food, by the way.”

My eyes darted from the food to him.

“Are you sure you didn’t make it and pass it off as her doing?” I could see right through his bullshit. We’ve known each other long enough.

“No. As much as I wish I could take credit, she insisted on making your food herself,” he shook his head, then took a sip from his teacup.

“Did she poison it?”

No matter how it looked, it sure was suspicious.

“I’m sure she still hates you, but I think we’ve moved past such intense desires. At worst, she might growl at you in the halls.”

That’s fine, I thought. Tigershark sometimes likes to make animal grunts when she’s happy. I can stand some growling.

Without turning to the side, I reached my arm toward the form and stabbed into some scrambled eggs. The sharp points pierced right through. With a swift, decisive motion, I took the impaled eggs and sent them into the dark depths that was my mouth.

The sensation was strange, repulsive at first, as I took my chomps through the soft, fluffy texture. Once the taste entered my buds, however, I understood; it truly was delightful.

I couldn’t stop at one stab, nor one bite. Even if the reach was awkward, the reward made it all worthwhile.

Within what must have been less than two minutes (or ten. My sense of time was a little off), the plate was empty. Toast included.

“Send my regards to the chef. That was most delectable,” I instructed him.

“It’s just a simple breakfast plate,” Ray remarked.

“Simple isn’t nothing. I’ll have you know, dying really works up an appetite.”

“Right,” he said, then sipped his tea, “I of all people should know the importance of a nice meal.”

Ray walked over, and I assumed he was about to take my plate.

“Oh, why thank you. I can see you having a potential future as a busboy.”

Instead of taking my plate, he pulled out from a hidden pocket in his jacket a small, black stone. When he handed it to me, It took me a moment to realize what it was.

“Oh? A phone?” I asked.

“The wild child has been wanting to speak with you,” he said.

It took a moment to click, but when I did, I gave him a sardonic look.

“You made quite the blunder, and now it’s up to me to pick up your mess. All right, I’ll make the call. But I want you to step out of the room.”

He obliged. I think he could sense that if he remained in the room while I talked to her, I would start badmouthing him. I won’t say such assumptions were without merit, but if I truly intended to badmouth him, I’d want him to stay in the room just so I could hear his reactions. It was only fair, after all.

I dialed the number. I had no idea what time it was over there, but the silver lining was that I also had no idea what time it was here. It could have been fuck all o’clock and I’d just nod along.

“Hey, who is it?” Answered a sweet old lady. No guesses as to who, it should be obvious by now.

“Is Tigershark around?” I asked, and granny made a little yodel sound before answering.

“Remora! Oh, Remora! It’s been so long. You know, Tigershark’s been worried about you. How have you been?” She cried out like she was auditioning for an upcoming opera performance.

“Just lazing about. I’ve been laying in bed all day. Got injured on the job and next thing you know, the gang’s asking me to stay in bed until I get better. Can you believe that?”

“Oh, dear. Dear, dear, dear. How tragic,” Tigershark’s grandma sure had a flair for dramatics.

“I’m fine, really.”

“Tigershark!” Yelled grandma, holding the phone away from her, but her voice rang loud enough that no distance would prevent me from hearing such a yell.

“She’ll be right there. She was just playing stuffed animal wrestling with Astraea,” grandma informed me.

I heard the pounding of heels down the hallway, and a “hup” sound as Tigershark must have leaped into the air and grabbed the phone out of her grandmother’s hands.

“Who is this?! If you’re trying to scam us, it won’t work!” Tigershark shouted.

Just what kind of calls do they get? Whatever, I decided, I’ll roll with it.

“Yes, ma’am. We heard your car warranty has expired. Would you like to renew?” I tried my best deep voice impression.

“Wait a minute...Remora?” Tigershark found me out right away.

“I need to work on my impression…”

“It is you!” She cheered.

“Yeah. It sure is. And it’s you, too,” I began to smile. I didn’t even realize how much I missed her until I heard her voice.

“Where have you been? Ray said you weren’t around and I couldn’t come over!”

“I’ve been around. Ray just didn’t wanna worry you all because I died. Can you believe that?”

“What?!”

“I know, right? You’re used to death by now. I’m sure you could have handled it. But despite his casual attitude, he can be quite the worrywart.”

“You died?!”

“Yeah, for a little bit, anyway.”

“Are you dead right now?”

“Uh...ooh, I’m a ghost…”

“A ghost? Really?”

“...No. What, you think if I was a ghost, I’d call you? Like I’d really want to talk on the phone as a ghost? No, I’d much rather show up in spirit form, in person, and wait until you were sleeping to freak you out. That would be a much better use of my time.”

“So what happened?”

“Well...a large blade landed on me,” I said, which wasn’t quite a lie.

“You need to be more careful!”

“Heh. You know you messed up when the kid is telling the adult to be careful…”

“Well, it’s true! All you guys back at the diner are so reckless! You had better not die again!”

“You already know I will.”

“What? No, you can’t!”

“Tigershark: listen to me. I’m not ashamed of being mortal. It’s going to happen. I’m not saying it’s going to happen any time soon, and I’m hoping it won’t happen until I’m very old, but it’s going to happen.”

“Yeah, but…”

“It’s not an easy thing to hear, let alone talk about. I get it. But you know me: I’m not one to mince words. I can’t tell you how much longer I have on this earth. I don’t think anyone can. But I can say I want to at least live long enough to see you become a full-fledged adult with many mistakes and triumphs that come with that. Maybe you’ll have a career, or become world-famous. Maybe you’ll have a husband or a wife, or neither. Maybe you’ll have many pets. I can’t say what life you’ll have, but I want to see it for myself. More than that…”

“What?” Her tone sounded sad, like she was either about to break out into tears, or was already a sobbing mess.

“Hey, this is a happy moment, OK? I’m not sad, are you?”

“But…”

“There are some things we can’t control. But there’s many things we’d like to do and see, yeah? And we’ll try to do as many of them as we can, yeah?”

“Yeah…” She blew her nose and she sounded a little happier.

“I want us both to grow old. But more than that, I want you to outlive me,” I finally managed to say.

“Huh?”

“It only makes sense: I’m older than you. Almost 20 years older. Ideally, you’d be like 62 and I’d be like 80 or something. Ideally, I’d like it to be at a time when you can be at peace knowing I was at peace. That we both lived long lives, and hopefully you’ll live an even longer one. Sure, you’ll get to experience things I won’t be able to see or hear about, but that’s normal. Last I checked, I don’t follow you to school or ask you about every little detail that goes on in your life.”

“That would be creepy!”

“Yeah, so, let’s not worry about it. And it may not make up much for Ray’s goof, but I hope to see you soon. Even if I’m still not fully recovered, I’ll try to give you the tightest hug I can. Maybe I’ll even hug you so tight that I send you to the grave?”

“No way!”

“We’ll have to see. By the way, Nemesis lives here now.”

“What? After all the trouble she caused and how she tried to hurt you, she’s living here now?”

“That’s right. She caused a lot of trouble, but she’s not a bad person. That’s why she’s living here now. And if she’s not a bad person, that means you can be friends with her.”

“I’ll be the judge of that!”

“All right, I suppose that’s only fair. Take care, little one, and I hope to see you soon, in whatever state I’m in.”

“You better be alive!”

“Ha. Could you imagine?”

The call ended. I held on my face a satisfied smile as I set the phone onto the tray where the empty plate lay.

The truth may have healed her heart, shed some clarity in the muddy waters. Or, it could have added another scar onto the many she was sure to have already.

Then again, a scar, too, could be healing, as I was sure to find out once I was able to walk again.

It was the next day when I next awoke.

Only Dr. Cole-Slaw stood in the room. No other guests, not this time.

“How are you holding up?” She asked.

“Groggy. Head hurts. Hungry. In a lot of pain. In other words, just fine,” I said.

“Wonderful. I’m sure we’ll have you walking around in no time.”

“By no time, do you mean by the time the party with Demetria’s mother is supposed to happen in a couple weeks?”

“That all depends on your cooperation. I’m a great doctor, so while I’d say under normal circumstances, it would take about a month for you to fully recover, I’m sure we can at least get you moving around in the next few days.”

“That’s encouraging.”

“Now for the not so encouraging news: you may not be able to fight as well as you used to. Are you okay with that?”

I gulped. There were still threats out there. Of that, I was sure. But I understood that just as well when I went to settle things with Nemesis. If I didn’t know those risks, I wouldn’t have gone through with the fight.

“I’ll have to make do,” I smiled. “I’ve been having to change up my style constantly. This is just going to have to be another change in style.”

“You’re scared, aren’t you?”

“Terrified.”

“You’ll have to adjust your lifestyle. You’ll be seeing a therapist soon. You do recall our deal?”

“Ugh. No need to remind me. I honor the deals I make.”

“Do you believe in any sort of higher power?” Dr. Cole-Slaw asked next.

“Like, a deity? Religion?”

“Whatever it may be. Anything?”

“In practice, I would call myself an atheist. That said, I know there are forces out there – absolutes in a universe which thrives off gray areas. I am not beholden to such absolutes, nor do I worship them, but they are out there, and they are a cause for concern.”

“Interesting. What would you call that?”

“I dunno. Cosmic practicality? I’d rather not walk into the eye of a hurricane, but I can acknowledge their existence. I don’t pray to or for hurricanes, as it wouldn’t be practical to do so, but I would like to try to prepare for them whenever possible. What about you? What’s your take?”

“I was raised catholic when I was young. My husband’s Jewish. I think I’ve got a relative who’s Wicca. There’s a few other family members throughout who through intermingling and experimenting, have their own set of beliefs and ideas on a higher power, if they believe in one at all. Despite my upbringing in one specific area, I was given a spoonful of various teachings.”

“So where does that place you now?”

“Simple, really: I feel as if I’ve got several folks all vying for my affection and they don’t wish to share me. It’s put me in a precarious position where I feel like if I put too much faith into one, I’ll be cheating on the others. So instead, I choose to put my faith in more simple, down to earth things, like the health and well-being of my patients. It doesn’t always work out, but I don’t expect it to. I just put as much energy into those things and when it does work out, it makes it worth all the while.”

“Couldn’t you have just said you’re agnostic?”

“No. Because I don’t see myself that way. If I could believe in every single thing I was taught, all at once, I would. But I’m human, and I’m much too small to carry all of those things with me. So I choose the simplest things I can conceive, because I am a simple person, and I keep the rest in the back of my mind in case of emergencies.”

“You know, you say you’re simple, but you’re a doctor with a great deal of knowledge you needed to learn in order to get there. With all the things you say you’ve been taught, I’d say you’re anything but simple.”

“There’s a lot I don’t know, Remora. Which brings me to the heart of the matter: you and Rhea aren’t really sisters, are you?”

“Heh,” I shook my head, “our experiences are different enough that we’ve elected to see each other as sisters. Whatever conclusion you might come to, I’d say we’re different people at this point.”

“I see. I can’t say I understand the world you’re a part of. It’s far above my pay grade for such a simple mind like me. But I will admit that it fascinates me.”

“It’s a strange world, I admit. But I’m human, just like you. Maybe even more so now.”

“Ha,” she walked toward the door, but turned before leaving, “in that case, welcome to the world of us mortals.”

She left. I was sure she’d be back again before long. There was still much work to do, after all. But most of all...I think I gave her the wrong impression of me.

#remoras full #drama #cute #romance #slice of life #scifi #writing #supernatural #remora #demetria

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queen-ofsunflowers · 1 year

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Ayame x Shiro 1, 2, 5, 14, 16, 20, 43, and 48

OC Ask Game - Relationships Edition!

I think AyaShiro have to be one of my favorite oc x oc ships that I have. There's just something about them that I love.

1: What were their first impressions of one another?

You gotta remember that when they first met, Shiro was in the hospital and hopped up on painkillers. His first impression of Ayame, who had been the nurse taking care of him at the time, is that she was an angel. Shiro was so loopy and pretty sure that he was dead, so it makes sense that was what came out of his mouth.

Ayame didn't know what landed Shiro in the bed exactly. All she knew from the police that accompanied him was that there was a riot. She also knew from reputation that Shiro was the leader of one of the delinquent gangs in the area. So already not so good. When he called her an angel -- plus a few other drugged out things, mostly asking about his crew and if they were alright -- that impression started to soften. She found him kind of funny.

2. What was their first date like? If they haven't been on a date yet, how would it go?

Their first date was... something. Shiro was still the leader of his gang at the time, something which he wouldn't step down from until Kotone was born. It had been shortly after his hospital release, so he was still a bit banged up. He tried to make it special, though, because as he told his crew "[he] really liked this girl". His friends hadn't seen him like this before, and because this group is incredibly wholesome, the guys took it upon themselves to make sure that the date went perfect.

Shiro took her to a nice restaurant on her night off to make her feel as special as he knew she was. Took her on his motorcycle, too. She held on tight to him the whole time, so that was a win for him. Things kind of spiraled because of his friends' interference. It was a bit like a sitcom episode, honestly. The guys that had put Shiro in the hospital did show up to make matters worse. Ayame learned that Shiro, while hot-headed, did have a noble streak. He didn't raise a fist until Ayame had been threatened.

The two had to sneak out the back and ran all the way to the nearest park. Shiro repeatedly apologized to her for messing it up while she took care of the new injuries he got. What Ayame told him caught him a bit off-guard.

"You're a good man. I've never had someone stand up for me like that before," she said as she smoothed out a bandage on his cheek. She placed a small kiss on top of it. "If you want to, you can make it up to me on the next date."

5. What's their love language like? Are they compatible with one another?

Shiro's love language is physical touch. Platonic, romantic, doesn't matter. You're gonna get him hugging you one way or another. For the touch starved Ayame, it works out perfectly.

Ayame's is acts of service. With how she grew up, it was the easiest way for her to show that she loved her sisters and even her parents without breaking eggshells. For a while, it got on Shiro's nerves since he's used to doing things himself, but he eventually learned the why and stepped back to let her do her thing.

14. How would they describe one another if asked?

Shiro: "She's my guardian angel. Aya is the kindest, sweetest person that I have ever met. If it wasn't for her, I have no idea where I'd be right now. ...Probably in a hole in the ground. Honestly, it makes me feel like I don't deserve her half of the time."

Ayame: "Shiro is... one of a kind. No one expects him to be the kind of person that he is, but underneath the scars and leather and his perchance for hitting first and asking questions later, he is truly a knight in shining armor. Prince Charming, however, would be pushing it."

16. What would they consider quality time?

Even if they're not doing anything, so long as they're with each other, that's quality time for them. Making dinner together, watching a movie, or even curled up in bed together. That's enough.

20. What are they like when sharing a bed?

Shiro tends to splay his limps out everywhere. Full-on spread eagle. Ayame with curl up against him with her head on his chest and her arms wrapped around him like a cuddlebug. Even if Shiro goes to bed after her, they will still end up like this.

43. Is one more introverted/extroverted than the other?

Easy to say, that Shiro is definitely more extroverted than Ayame is. A hundred percent.

48. Do they get on well with each other's family? Is family important to them?

Shiro's parents are somewhat grateful to Ayame for helping turn their son's life around. They care about him deeply, but his previous lifestyle was something that put them on edge because of how often he got hurt. Ayame helped change that and brought the side of him that they knew existed but was buried for so long back to the light. So yeah, they get along well.

Shiro had met Ayame's parents once, and then that was enough. He is forced to be civil around them, but he seriously wants to fight them. Ayame's parents don't like Shiro at all. They don't think he's "good enough" for their daughter (which Shiro will throw back at them saying they're not good enough parents for Ayame.) On the other hand, Shiro gets along with Yuriko and Tsubaki great. Tsubaki sees him as an older brother, and Yuriko is relieved that Shiro made friends with Daichi so easily since he kind of needed it.

#persona 3 #persona oc #ayame shiomi #shiro shiomi #kotone's parents #queen answers #queen plays ask games #anonymous

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captainsimagines · 2 years

Text

the warmth of winter || finale

Summary: You’re home for the holidays after landing your dream job. When your dad’s old army friend stops by for the month, he makes waves immediately. Your little vacation is disrupted... for better or for worse? Nobody has to know.

Pairing(s): Bucky Barnes x (F) Reader

Based on the Song: ‘Illicit Affairs’ by Taylor Swift

Mini-Series (6/6)

Warnings: 18+ ONLY; unprotected sex; strong language; age difference kink (Reader is 25, Bucky is 39); tiny bit of angst

Word Count: 7,800+

A/N: We have reached the beautiful end. Happy Holidays, everyone. May your literature and dreams be filled with the wonderful woes of DBF! Bucky Barnes. Love you all. xx

The overhead bell dings, announcing your arrival. Clint looks up from the counter briefly and the stack of papers he’s signing, but once he double-takes he drops the pen and stares back. You shrug.

But Clint is Clint, and the second he readjusts his hearing aid, he smiles and says, “You look like shit this morning.”

Slowly, a smile cracks on your face. You can’t help it.

“Hey! Got you smilin’!” Clint hops the counter and wraps you in his arms, squeezing tightly until he thinks you’ve had enough. But you feel like shit, and even though you reject Clint’s bear hugs on a normal day, you really want him to give you another one this time. “Gonna buy those flowers now?”

You shrug again. “Yeah, I’m trying to support more small businesses.”

Clint makes a loud ‘pfft’ noise with his mouth and shoves you lightly. “Fuck outta here.”

He knows exactly what to get. It’s a combination of orange tulips, daffodils, and one vibrant, red amaryllis stuffed in the middle of the bouquet. Clint organizes it like a recipe, similar to how someone would add ingredients to a pot.

The fact he still knows the order, even after all these years, makes you feel thankful and guilty at the same time. He holds out his hand expectantly, opening and closing his fist until you roll your eyes and place your debit card in his palm. He does this weird bow before swiping it at the register, then grabs the bouquet and plumps the petals before he hands it to you. “Go apologize to your old man.”

“You know this is only the first step.”

“Happy to be of service either way… I’ll tell Wanda and Pietro you’re doing good.”

Now that makes you sad all over again. Your hand is almost entirely purple, but the painkillers are doing their job. And you’ve had your night of crying — Kate can attest to that. She played with your hair through your breakdown until you finally fell asleep.

“Hey, Clint.” You grab his attention before he has the chance to get back to the New Years Eve orders. “For what it’s worth, I wanna thank you for keeping our secret. I know that was a shitty thing to make you guys do this whole month.”

“You’re thinkin’ too much of it,” Clint says with no hesitation. He gives you a genuine smile and picks up his pen. “Anything for you, Bumblebee.”

The general rule of thumb in your household was that if there was ever a fight or a disagreement, the opposing party would have to allow the departing party space and time to be sad or angry on their own terms. In this case, your dad is the departed and you’re the opposing party. In high school it was almost always the other way around, and the disagreements were mediocre at best. If you could time travel and tell your teenage self that you could definitely one-up whatever it was they were moping about, you would.

Hey past me, don’t stress about this little thing now. You and your dad will get over it. In the future, maybe you shouldn’t fuck one of his friends to avoid all this, but what the fuck do I know?

All you did last night was gently knock on his bedroom door to tell him everyone left, including Bucky. There was no response, but you weren’t really expecting one.

Now, you stand outside the same door with an apology bouquet and his Christmas present. It’s better late than never. You rock back and forth on the balls of your feet a couple more times before finally knocking.

Your dad answers with a quiet groan, and there’s the faint noise of bed sheets shuffling.

You turn the knob and peek your head in. At least the curtains are drawn. He’s hiding underneath a pile of blankets. You can’t tell if the mass even has him under it, really. “Can I come in?”

He grumbles and the blankets shutter, signaling life. “Have I moped for more than twelve hours?”

“Give or take a few minutes.”

There’s a pause. Slowly, he drags himself from underneath the self-made mountain. He mutters things under his breath the whole time he does it. It’s obvious you got your dramatics from him. “Come in.”

You enter and sit on the edge of his bed. He immediately focuses on the large bouquet in your hand. He battles with himself for a moment before sighing and grabbing it from you. “Dad—”

“I don’t even know what to ask or what to say.”

You didn’t exactly practice what you were going to say either. But you at least afford him the right of your words coming naturally. If you claim the affair came naturally, then your explanation should too. “I’m sorry for keeping this from you. I’m sorry that it even happened. But it’s not just… sex. Bucky and I—”

“You know what, Bumblebee? I don’t wanna know about it. Don’t want details. Don’t even wanna know when this was happening. But just tell me one thing — does he treat you right?”

“He does.”

“Then the rest is none of my business.”

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion. It’s not that simple; it doesn’t feel that simple. “But it is… he’s one of your friends.”

He shakes his head fast. “Not like Sam. Not like Bruce. There’s a huge difference, but I get what you’re trying to rationalize. Hell, I’m trying to use the same excuse.”

Your dad takes the time to smell the flowers. There’s a knowing smile growing, like he’s reminiscing the first time you gifted him these.

You think about Bucky. You think about how he left his childhood home after the accident because he believed it would make your dad more comfortable. You think about how he ultimately accepted his invitation to spend the holidays with him, even if they hadn’t spoken truly in years. You think about this, and watch your dad smell the flowers. He’s still dressed in his outfit from the party, and his hair is an absolute, ruffled mess.

“He really cares about you, you know?”

“If he really did he would have thought twice about this,” he mutters. He’s not wrong. He turns from the flowers to you. “I’m not gonna stay mad forever. Just let your old man wallow.”

You nod slowly, then remember his present in your hand. You hold it out for him. “I’m sorry I ruined Christmas.”

He releases a dry chuckle. “You didn’t ruin anything. James didn’t ruin anything. I’m smart enough to blame the one person who wasn’t invited and tried to assault my daughter.”

“Yeah, Peter texted me that Pepper fired him this morning.”

“Good. I wouldn’t have let you go back to New York otherwise.”

He looks to you then to the presents. You know he just wants to lay back in bed and play some video games for a while. You give him a quick hug, tearing up as his fingers grip the fabric of your shirt the tighter he holds you.

You don’t leave the room feeling like everything is good and done, but it’s definitely a beginning.

You walk down the stairs slowly, running your fingers through the wreaths on the stair rail or trying to reach the snowflakes hanging on the ceiling. Everything is still the same way everyone left it last night, give or take a few items. Clint and Wanda stayed behind a little later to help clean the kitchen and shove any leftover food into the fridge. And everyone’s presents are still under the tree.

As much as you want to scream around town that you’re sorry for being a catalyst in the destruction of your dad’s traditions, you don’t think you have enough energy to do that and give everyone their gifts. You’ll find the time. It’s just not right now.

Still, you go to sit beside the tree after turning the heater on. The sun outside is hidden behind gray clouds and the world is quiet. The neighbors are either sleeping in or hungover from drinks and food. With the lack of sunlight, you click on the lights for the tree. The lights are simply gold, still brilliant, and you think about how often Kate (the resident interior designer) keeps trying to get you to buy the colorful lights. But your dad claims that much colorful shining would contrast the colorful matte of the room. Kate says he doesn’t know what he’s talking about.

The mini tree in the bar has colorful lights. So Kate really did get what she always wanted.

You count the presents and make a mental note of when you'll probably see each person next. Peter’s gift is back in your New York apartment, as is Scott’s. You count nine in total.

Your dad. Wanda. Pietro. Clint. Sam. Kate. Bucky. Your dad’s present to you.

That’s eight, but there’s nine.

It’s a heavy, rectangular-cubed present, wrapped with shiny green wrapping paper and topped with a gold bow. You turn it around in your hands a couple times, then shake it lightly near your ear. The contents thump against the sides of what sounds like hard cardboard. There’s no tag saying who it’s for.

You chance it. It’s either for you or your dad, no one else.

The cardboard is easier to destroy than the wrapping paper, surprisingly enough. Then it’s like the mornings of every Christmas you had with frizzled hair and sleepy eyes and dry saliva at the corner of your mouth. You get the catapulting happiness in the lock of your knees and the joints of your knuckles. You’re just a kid again, opening your presents and counting down the minutes until your dad lets you call Wanda to rave about them all, and to ask if she liked the gift you got her.

The snowglobe is slightly bigger than your hand, base made from dark wood and engraved with a short quote.

‘The wisdom of our ancestors is in the simile.’

But it’s the globe that has you reeling. The scene is simple: a sculpted model, who looks a little too much like you, lying back on a couch with a book raised over her head; the scene, even though it gives no other evidence that the couch is ‘outside’, is surrounded by fallen snow. And once you shake it, the scene of course springs to life.

The tiny humanoid figure even has a fluffy, forest green cardigan and fluffy red socks on.

You shake it excitedly a few more times, completely enthralled by its stunning appearance.

Snow… couch… round.

He did it. Bucky actually did it. Those three random words paved way for such a remarkable and lucky-as-fuck gift. A wet laugh bursts from your mouth. You hug the snowglobe to your chest, smiling so wide your cheeks begin to hurt.

You know Bucky’s not here and hasn’t returned since last night. Scrambling to stand from the floor and trying to rewrap the snowglobe in the bubblewrap you had discarded is a messy struggle, but there’s only one thought on your mind.

You have to see him. You have to thank him for the gift. And you have to give him his.

Grabbing your phone and Bucky’s gift, you practically sprint through town to the hotel Sam mentioned he was staying at.

It takes less than three rapid knocks before Sam pulls open his hotel door. Perks of a small town is that everyone knows everyone, so a couple sweet words with the front desk and they let you on up.

“Sam?” You glance over his shoulder, bouncing on your heels. “Hey, where’s Bucky?”

Sam sighs and crosses his arms, leaning his right shoulder against the doorframe. “He left.”

“What do you mean he left? His stuff is still at my house—”

“He went by to pack everything when you left early this morning.”

You swallow hard. “He didn’t wanna talk about it?”

“He feels like he really screwed up, kid,” Sam admits. He didn’t get much out of Bucky last night, but he did manage to scrape a ‘I knew better and I still took her down with me’.

“But I told him I would talk to him later.”

Sam chuckles, low and quiet. “Have you met men? We think that’s code for ‘give me space, I’ll call you’.”

“Well, it does but not in this case,” you mumble, then release a heavy sigh. Your shoulders suddenly feel incredibly heavy with the weight of everything that has happened this past month.

Sam huffs another laugh. He leads you into the room and goes to retrieve the complimentary notepad on the desk. His bags are packed and the TV is on mute. He scribbles an address onto the notepad. “Here.”

“What’s this?”

“The bar’s address. He lives in the apartment above it.”

“Sam…” Your mouth parts in shock.

“It may take a while for me to come to terms with this relationship. But you should have seen him last night, man. Never seen him like this.”

He may be hesitant, but Sam is sincere. And when someone has Sam Wilson’s blessing, whether it be for something small or huge, they should consider themselves grateful.

“I’m sorry I lied to you.”

Sam rolls his eyes and reaches for something else on the desk. “Apologize some more later. Here.” He hands you an envelope. “Leaves in two hours.”

You open the envelope and gawk at what you see. “You got me a plane ticket?”

Sam shrugs, “Traded mine for this one. My truck’s in Pietro’s garage and your dad already said I can use the guest room since his last tenant bailed.”

You can’t help but laugh at his attempt at a joke. Still, you shake your head and hand him the ticket back. “But Sarah and the kids…”

Sam shoves the ticket back into your chest. “I’m leaving tomorrow with my own ticket. I’ll still make it back in time to celebrate with Sis for New Years.”

You just look from the ticket and back to Sam. “Don’t worry about me, kid. Go get your man.” Sam acts as if he’s giving up, the serious expression falling from his face and replaced with a massive grin. He laughs in between words. “Hey! I love those Hallmark movies just as much as the next person!”

You hold the tears in, and leap up to wrap your arms around his neck. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” You plant random kisses all over his cheeks and forehead, straining on your tippy-toes as you do so. Sam groans and wipes at his face once you dash from his room.

He yells down the hallway. “You’re paying me back!”

After racing back home and packing an overnight bag (because let’s face it, you didn’t pack much in means of clothing for this vacation and you can always stop by your apartment if you need anything else), you hop on the plane and practice your speech in your head. It’ll be a short flight. You’ve got Bucky’s present and the snowglobe smuggled in your carry-on.

The flight’s full but there are no families on board — just people returning alone from their small vacations or business trips. It makes you feel sad, even if your dad encouraged you to chase after Bucky when he emerged from his room in the midst of your chaotic packing for this first meal of the day. You told him you’d be back for New Years Eve, even if you had to drive your ass back. He made you promise, and said he expected you to return with a plus-one.

You really hope you’ll be able to swing that.

You practically fly through the terminals, jumping over overturned suitcases and rushing to security. One of the TSA agents even leans in close after inspecting your driver’s license to whisper, “Running through an airport during the holidays to talk to someone?” All you do is flush with embarrassment and nod.

Your life, you’ve come to accept, is a Hallmark movie. In the distant back of your mind, as you run to the exit doors and hail a taxi, there’s the faint sound of every Taylor Swift song you can match up to this moment. Kate’s influence, no doubt. You let it fuel you.

You hand the driver Sam’s scribbled note and lean back in the seat, legs bouncing in anticipation.

The day after Christmas in New York must be one of the most chaotic days ever, after Christmas Eve and New Years Eve. There are people all over the place, bundled up in their winter coats and hailing taxis like their lives depend on it. If you had to bet, you’d say half of these people are returning Christmas presents. Still, it’s kind of refreshing to be back in the middle of your fast-paced city. You’ve missed it.

Bucky’s bar is located in between a tattoo shop and an antique store. The sign outside reads ‘The Alibi’ in big gold lettering.

Once inside, you feel as though you’ve been transported to the wild, wild west. Or, partly. The floors and bar itself are made from this dark, rustic wood, that if you had to guess, you’d say is either oak or maple. The walls are almost all covered with sketches and paintings that vary in style and design, as well as various pictures. In the first picture you see, you recognize Captain Rogers, who’s hanging off Bucky’s right shoulder and laughing into the camera. The rest of the wall displays are flags, kids drawings, and quotes. There is no main theme, but that seems like something Bucky would do. He’s got a ton of interests and loves a lot of things.

But the people in the room, who are all staring at you and taking sips of their drinks in between, are what really captures your attention.

Damn, you think. He wasn’t kidding when he said this was a biker bar.

You’re not entirely out of place. There are some young customers sitting in the booths near the front. They too watch as you stroll on in, watching as you eye the walls and lean over the bar. The bartender isn’t here, must’ve went to go get something from the back, and Bucky’s probably upstairs in his apartment—

He emerges from the back, hair fluffed like he’s been constantly running his hands through it, sighing heavily and carrying a massive milk crate full of bottled beer. And because your life deserves another cliche, time stands still when he spots you.

You smile to show you’ve come with good graces, and give him a tiny wave. Bucky stumbles when he steps forward but balances just in time to not spill the beer. You stifle your giggle and wait for him to set everything down, dust himself off, and turn his attention back to you. No one speaks — the customers in the room provide the much-needed noise of conversation you both need to gain the courage to speak first. Finally, you reach into your book bag and take out the carefully bubble wrapped snowglobe, placing it on the bar counter.

Bucky’s mouth opens, then closes. He stares at you, then the snowglobe, then clears his throat. “... I see you got my gift.”

Hearing his voice after casting him out is otherworldly — it damn near makes you cry. You huff a surprised laugh. “Three words? Those random three words and you got them all?”

Bucky shrugs, then looks down at his feet. “It was really pure luck, but.”

“But.”

Bucky shrugs again. He doesn’t know how to start apologizing. He figures he should go back to the beginning, stating how he should have stayed away that night in the bar, or how he should have planted his foot down after you two crossed the ultimate line. But he also wants to describe your time together as poetically as he can, using all the positive adjectives in the world and standing there as you tease him for it.

“I’m sorry—”

You take that awkward moment to sit down at the nearest barstool.

“You first,” Bucky says.

Breathing in deeply, and for lack of a better expression, you pour your heart out. “I should have told you that I didn’t think this was gonna end well. I guess I was just too caught up in the fun of it all. Peggy… you remember Peggy? Um, she just told me to live in the moment and to stop living in my head. And for the first time in a long time… I was happy with someone else. I got to enjoy that happiness with another.” You smile down at your hands and see that you’ve picked the skin of your cuticle a little too much on your thumb. “I’ve never had that.”

“Me neither,” Bucky admits.

“Thank you for giving my dad the space he needed.” Bucky nods, and pulls a beer from the crate. He cracks it open and places it in front of you. Confused, you lift it up and take a sip.

“I felt like I had to do something with my hands.”

You snort around the bottle neck and quickly swallow so you don’t choke. Bucky’s grin is wide.

“I talked to him, by the way.”

“He gonna kill me?”

“Give it another day, but I think he’s fine,” you say, scrunching up your nose.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah,” you sigh, taking another drink. “Just like Sam, I think they need to come to terms with it first.”

Bucky bites his bottom lip, chews it softly, and runs his metal hand through his hair. He winces when the grooves pull at a few strands. He places his palms on the counter, fingers bending slightly, like he doesn’t know what to do with them. “So… there’s something to come to terms with?”

You place your beer to the far side and lean on the counter with your forearms, closer to him. “Yeah, Bucky…” He doesn’t move, but his eyes are locked with yours. “I don’t want this to end.”

Bucky releases a shaky breath and cups your cheeks. You place your hands over his. “I missed you.” And suddenly he’s hoping to lean in and learn the curve of your lip with his tongue, just one last time, if you’ll allow it.

You grin, feeling as your cheeks resist lifting in Bucky’s grip. He kisses you sweet, pulling you in and biting your bottom lip. It’s long and hungry but it’s obvious you both feel constrained by the limits of such a public outing. It only takes Bucky another second to realize that hey, we’re in New York, no one here knows you, and this is my own goddamn bar. He nips softly, grinning when the soft sigh you produce slowly becomes a quiet moan. You press your lips against his a little more firmly, lingering for another second or two before pulling away to chuckle. “It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours.”

“Shut the fuck up, I missed you still. I miss you always,” he breathes against you. “I’m sorry I ignored you. I’m sorry I didn’t get Rumlow out of there sooner. I’m sorry I didn’t have the self-control to stay away from you. I’m sorry I bailed and ran back here.” He confesses all this while molding your lips with his again. He hears and feels the hitch in your breath, and now he must restrain himself. This may be his bar and you’ve both got some serious kink with fucking around people who are clueless, but it isn’t the time or the place.

“I got you a present, too. You left it under the tree.”

He takes the present as you offer it, marveling at the shiny gold wrapping paper. He knows what it is before he even opens it.

But he’s still astonished at what he finds. “Where did you find this?”

“Bookstore off of Page. I think it’s one of a hundred ever printed.”

Bucky gapes, eyes literally sparkling. “It’s old as shit. And look at the pages! Look at this cover, huah!”

There.

You smile big with your top teeth slightly biting your lip; there’s a soft beating in your chest that travels to all your extremities, and the indescribable melting sensation occurs — all while looking at Bucky. Maybe you were a little too harsh with how authors describe the feeling of love and admiration. Because it does feel like your heart is about to burst red out of your chest, and it does feel like all your limbs are subject to a heady numbness, and it does feel like honey and sugar and the delectable taste of them mixed in whiskey.

But it also feels like the first shiver of winter when you are least expecting it, but hoping for it. It feels like the proud knowledge of seeing a painting and recognizing the brush strokes, like you knew the artist themselves. And it feels like the first warmth of winter, when you cuddle under a heavy blanket and push away the forgotten strands of stray hair and rub your palms together to create the mild friction your warm blood craves.

That’s the moment. Peggy’s words ring loudly in the back of your head. Bucky turns the book over in his hands, marveling at every minor detail… he’s just given you your first flower: a pure look at a moment of happiness.

“Do you like it?”

Bucky has all the praise ready to spill from his tongue but he can’t quite get the words out. Because you’re standing there, illuminated by the soft yellow light he still needs to replace and chewing on your bottom lip that he has claimed as his multiple times. Multiple times. He thinks if he doesn’t join the voyage to conquer that bottom lip right this instant, he’ll go crazy.

So he holds his new book tight to his chest, takes your hand, and tells the only other person behind the bar that they’re in charge.

Stumbling up the stairs is reminiscent of the first time you were together, and it’s accompanied by the same stifled laughter and giggling. It’s not until Bucky closes his apartment door with the heel of his foot and snags you by the waist that things heat up severely, playful nature still present in the multitude of giggles in between kisses and little nose snorts as you both struggle to remove the heavy clothing you're wearing. Bucky teases you for it, and strips quickly as he was only wearing jeans and t-shirt. The voice that was always nagging, screaming at you to think twice about what you and Bucky were doing, is now silent. There’s no weird duplicate of your voice, no false words of guilt — this feels right, period.

There’s nothing rushed about this either. There’s no race to get to the finish line because there’s a time stamp. No, Bucky takes his time and deepens every kiss straight away, loving the feeling of your hot, wet tongue against his. And what a lovely, wet tongue Bucky also has.

You kiss long and deep, savoring the taste of each other and the sensation it brings. You’re going mad with the prospect of finally, simply, holding Bucky’s hand out in the general public. Your hands roam freely, cusping and grasping every available naked inch Bucky is offering. Bucky tries not to slam you too hard into the wall, effectively caging you in and returning the favor as he roams higher, hands climbing the expanse of your back and holding you close.

“I know you said I sounded ridiculous, but I really did miss you,” Bucky says. You have one hand on the back of Bucky’s neck, pulling lightly at his wavy hair, and the other gripping his impressive waist. “Fuck, did I miss you.”

The one hand you had on his waist drops even lower now, snaking its way to his backside and gripping his firm ass. You give it a tight squeeze, your small hand grasping as much as it can, and swallow the prolonged groan Bucky releases against your mouth.

“I missed you, too,” you admit, palming his asscheek harder so it presses him firmly against you and the wall. “I’ll tease you about it later.”

This is what unhinges Bucky, restraint practically flying out the window. You, ever so witty, challenging him at every moment you see fit. He doesn’t think the kink of your young age would still be inside his head — he figured that would die off once the secret was revealed and the adrenaline settled. But it’s still there, fresh, causing his cock to spring up behind his boxers, blood running south, erasing all other thoughts. Now that he knows his feelings extend beyond the kink, Bucky feels it’s safe to indulge in it.

Bucky surges forward, lips attacking yours, and finally steers you away from the wall, through a short hallway, and into his bedroom.

It’s the stupidest fucking thought you’ve ever had but it pops up and you have to acknowledge it. Bucky is the first man you’ve done the dirty with, who brought you back to his apartment, that has a bed frame. Stupid fucking thought but it’s true and it just makes you adore him more.

Once you two topple onto the mattress, Bucky’s hands work their magic. It’s like clockwork now — he knows your asks and tells. One hand goes in between your legs, rubbing your bottom lips slowly through your underwear while the other, his metal one, reaches up to grip the side of your head, carefully tilting your chin up to mold his lips with yours. You trade dozens of sloppy kisses, both your aims a little off, like the scent of your desperation has made you both careless. And perhaps that’s the wrong word to use because these kisses, no matter how uncoordinated they may be, are careful and shared with the most desirable intent.

Bucky needs to be inside of you before he has an aneurysm.

“Fuck,” you gasp out, Bucky’s lips tender and ticklish as he kisses down your neck. You turn so he has easier access. Bucky lifts you slightly, reaching behind your back to unclasp your bra. Once that’s out of the way, he puts his tongue to work after he gets a look at your naked torso. You delve into that delectable feeling, as well as the constant circular pressure he’s applying to your sensitive nub. You wrap your arms around his neck instinctively, holding him in place. He leans into your warmth.

“Stay with me tonight,” Bucky breathes. His breath is hot against your skin for a second, but once he detaches from your breasts, you’re exposed to the cool chill in the air and your nipples harden. “Stay with me.”

“I will,” you agree, pulling him a little harshly by the hair at the back of his neck to give him a desperate kiss. For Bucky, it’s a signal to get this show on the road — to enjoy being with you without the shoulder crumbling guilt, without restrictions or censors. The answer, you’ve come to realize, is simple. Whatever Bucky wants, Bucky gets. It’s a profound feeling you develop while underneath this man, bombarded with bold and frantic kissing, absolutely littered with them, and from simply hearing him speak, grand and real all at once. His plea, simple enough, sounds like scripture in your ear.

“Bucky, promise me something.”

Bucky pulls his lips from your skin to meet your eye. Bucky’s on the same page — anything you were to ask for, he’d venture through snow and wind for. “Anything.”

“If we’re going to treat this as real, then we hold each other as equals. We’re not each other's secret anymore.”

Bucky is so overcome he leans down to capture your lips with his again. Your noses bump messily but that doesn’t quite bother you. Bucky’s moving your body up higher on his bed and treating you well. He can bump his nose with yours a couple more times in both cute and embarrassing ways if it makes him happy.

“Yes,” Bucky promises, slipping your underwear off while you aid him with his. He takes a second to marvel at your body, now illuminated by the harsh yellow light of his bedside and the moonlight from the open window. Somehow, it still makes you shine.

“Perfect... Look at you,” Bucky whispers, running his thumb over your bottom lip. The soft pad ignites both your heart and the tight coil at the base of your stomach. Slowly, you stick your tongue out and trace his thumb as it travels along your lip, mouth circling around it once it reaches the middle again. Bucky’s breath hops, and his whole body shudders. “How can you ever be anything else?”

You kiss again, but this time it’s less frantic. Now completely exposed and relying on shared body warmth to protect from the cold December weather, there’s the presence of a promise.

Bucky pushes your legs apart and settles between them. He rubs at your clit for a while, slowing each time your breath starts hitching more often. There’s nothing cruel about the edging this time — it’s anticipation, it’s care, it’s presence.

Looking up at him through the dark curtain of your eyelashes, you hope it signals Bucky nonverbally that you’re more than ready. Bucky settles again, his chest briefly brushing against yours as he drags the head of his cock through your wet slit. He doesn’t even try to stop the moan from escaping. Whether he knows it or not, Bucky’s whines and groans are lethal. They shake your reality, like you’re not supposed to hear something so precious and carnal, like they are whirls that escape Pandora’s box and bless the world. Because even though the myth is known for a more negative outcome, Bucky’s pleasure is definitely one of the few positive releases.

Those pink, luscious lips of his part again with another sweet sound, just by your ear. By the time Bucky slowly slides in, tip of his cock stretching you deliciously and inviting the rest of his girth, you’re losing your mind.

“Oh, Bucky,” you gasp reverently, clutching at the skin of his strong back. You’re always tense at first, trying desperately to take him all in to get comfortable much quicker. Bucky’s cock is delectable, providing such a wonderful stretch and burn that you never want it to end. Your abdomen quivers with need, your chest lightly heaving with each strangled breath prepared to turn into a cry.

Bucky takes his time. You try not to roll your hips in order to push him in deeper, not that he could make it much further in all honesty, but you want Bucky to be in control right now. It’s like you’re apologizing once again for comparing him to someone you absolutely despised. So Bucky having control right now, able to turn and fuck your body however he sees fit, is important to you.

All that tight, wet heat is doing something to Bucky’s brain. God, he’ll never lose this rush, that’s for sure. It’s a rush he’s rarely ever felt with another lover. But looking down at your face — eyebrows furrowed, lip curled in a delicious silent moan, nose slightly scrunched — he wonders if what he’s feeling is the combination of sex and love. It wouldn’t be too far-fetched. Bucky’s already been theorizing whether it took him merely one hour or the whole month of December to fall in love with you. He just knows it happened quickly.

Incrementally, Bucky quickens his pace, his slick cock pushing deep and long into your heat. He dips his head down to steal a kiss, even if he is enjoying the small puffs of air you were voicing. Bucky’s hands go to grasp your waist, holding you up just a little so the angle is better. Then he pounds you deeper, swallowing each and every moan that slips from between your connected mouths. Bucky’s going at it like this is his favorite activity in the world, and it damn well may be.

The wave is already building inside of you, heavy with ecstasy and such overwhelming intensity. Bucky’s fingers dig into your skin, holding you in place as he drives in. But the coil is just wound so tight, so severely, that you feel as if you have to take matters into your own hands. Bucky’s had his fun — now it’s time for yours.

Almost expertly, you hook a leg around his waist and use the momentum to flip over so you’re settled on top. This startles Bucky, and he looks up at you with both surprise and a dash of curiosity. The fact that you haven’t played in this position before, on a bed at least, is a goddamn shame. But there’s a first time for everything.

You place your hands on his chest, only squeezing his pecs just a little to elicit that strangled moan you knew he was trying to hold back. Your weight is perfect on his sturdy frame: Bucky, beneath you, looks so splendid and willing. His golden skin calls out to you, begs for your silky tongue and the press of your lips. But Bucky’s erection is full and your pussy has somehow developed a heartbeat of its own, so you slowly lift yourself up and back down again, watching Bucky’s beautiful face each time you do it.

Bucky revels in it, loves being caressed and used, taken apart when all he has to do is lie back and take it. He watches as you bounce, hands squeezing his tits, the position making your arms push yours together. You fuck him faster, riding yourself down with a swivel of your hips and a hungry call of his name. Bucky writhes underneath you, his hands traveling anywhere and everywhere he sees fit: your shoulders for a mini and uncoordinated massage, your nipples to tweak and harden them, your waist to grip and dig his nails in, your clit to tease and cause you to shudder harder. And all the while the metal hand generates a stream of goosebumps.

Bucky’s writhing only spurs you on. He whines, and he moves to clutch at the bedsheets. He almost bursts through the seams when your hands travel over the crest of his ribs, to his toned stomach, and back up to his defined pecs, where you finally, finally, play with his tits like he once asked. Bucky’s skin is hot and flushed, turning redder by the minute.

“Doll… oh fuck,” Bucky whimpers. He cries out again as you pinch his hardened nipples, turning them expertly like the way he does yours. He’s so hard inside of you it’s like he’s holding out. It certainly looks that way considering the faces he’s making. It contorts ever so lovely, then his jaw goes slack, and he puts extra energy in pounding away upwards, hitting your sweet spot head-on. With one particular twist of your thumbs, Bucky arches off the bed and licks his dry lips. “Wait, wait!”

You pull away completely and stop your hips.

Bucky motions for you to bend forward, hands interlocking behind your neck to drag you down himself. Once your lips are connected, after what seemed like ages for Bucky, Bucky drives upward and fucks you harder than you thought possible.

“B—Bucky! Oh, oh!” You’re incredibly loud, and Bucky makes the (sort-of) sick joke that maybe this is how Clint went deaf, because you’re yelling at the crook of his neck, right beside his ear, and he fucking loves it. “Oh, fuck! Oh my god.”

Your breathing comes in short little gasps, each one getting shorter than the other, your velvety heat starting to constrict uncontrollably as you near your end. Bucky just moves faster, metal hand grasping one asscheck while the other is halfway wrapped around your back. You try to match his pace, his rhythm, but it’s a lost cause. You thought you were taking control by riding him into the mattress, but Bucky is Bucky and he, without a doubt, will always get what he wants. He retakes control, pumping his hips, pulling out and pushing back smoothly. The whole room feels hot; both your moans are louder than the slapping sounds of your sweaty skin. Your chest is damp and so is Bucky’s, and it’s starting to feel like the friction of both your bodies is becoming more silky than grounding. But that’s the last care in the world for you two. Bucky wants to live with his cock buried deep in your cunt for the rest of his days, mark his damn words.

Rolling his pelvis, Bucky grinds in fast and unrelenting. His body rocks with all he’s giving, his head thrown back in the pillows as he focuses on hitting your spot over and over and matching each of his grunts with yours.

“More,” you breathe, your hands finding balance against the bed. You hold yourself up the best you can and are determined to aid in the cause. Bucky’s bed is sturdy, able to handle a much harder pounding. So you decide to test it. Grasping the headboard with both hands, you roll your hips and bounce in time with the pistoning of Bucky’s hips.

“Oh, god, yes!” Bucky cries, sweating as a result of the effort at this point. He grits his teeth and follows your nonverbal command, speeding up and driving in deeper.

You’re yelling nonstop now, one right after the other, incoherent nothingness after every short gasp and guttural moan. Bucky is right there with frenzied need. One look at you clenching your teeth and Bucky rams deep inside your sweet hole that’s pressing around him endlessly, exploding with a short cry. The paralyzing satisfaction is not enough to stop his momentum, his common sense, so he pummels into you a few more times until you too are coming around him, thighs clenching around his hips and shaking almost comically. Your arms shake as you ride it out, knuckles purpling around the headboard. You eye your injured for a moment — holding the headboard, even if you’re going to have to take another painkiller, was worth it.

He catches you as your limbs give out, but you’ve still got some mind not to crush him. You lift yourself off him gently, hissing from the stretch now, and roll over to lay beside him. Bucky immediately scoops you into his side. You try not to think about getting up to clean yourself off too soon. Bucky’s warmth is just so addictive.

Bucky kisses the top of your head, his hot breath warming even the forgotten parts of your body. “Fuck, sweetheart. You learn some new moves?”

You giggle unexpectedly, like a flood of serotonin has just attacked your brain and spread throughout every nerve ending in your body. You snuggle closer and breathe him in. “If you think so, then I think I’m doing something right.”

Bucky chuckles deeply. He dwells in this feeling: peace. There’s no running to clean up, to fix everything as you left it, nothing to change or modify. All he needs to do is softly trace his fingertips over your shoulders, taste every word your mouth can form, and then close his eyes to wake up and do it all over again.

“I’m surprised you haven’t teased me about your gift yet,” Bucky says.

Confused, you tilt your head up so you can look at him. “What do you mean? I teased you about the three word game we did.”

“No, the quote.”

When your response is simply a scrunch of the eyebrows, Bucky tries hard not to let his mouth split into the biggest shit-eating grin he’s ever had. “You don’t know where that quote is from, do you?”

You shake your head, already starting to laugh. “You better fucking tell me before you choke on your laugh!”

Bucky sits up and helps you up as well. “I’ll give you a hint. Charles Dickens.”

“‘A Christmas Carol’? Are you kidding me?”

Bucky bursts into a fit of hard laughter, clutching at his sweaty chest and everything. You push him lightly, laughing along with him, and get out of bed to rush to the bathroom.

“You’re an editor!”

“I avoid Dickens because I got a C on a college report about him once. I have a grudge, sue me!”

“You can’t deny the quote though!”

You flush the toilet and speed-walk back to bed, naked as the day you were born and feeling the cold air like the Gods originally intended. “I’ll admit… There's truth in it.”

“Like this, like that. As this, as that. Similes run our lives.”

Bucky envelops you in his warmth again. You trace your finger over his chest, watching as he breathes in slowly, out. “You make me smile like you just gave me my first flower.”

Bucky meets your eye, eyebrow raised. “Where’d you hear that one from?”

“A friend,” you admit. “It’s cheesy. But it makes sense.”

“Shower me in similes!” Bucky exclaims, rolling the two of you over until you’re trapped beneath him as he presses scattered kisses all over your neck and chest.

~ 5 Days Later ~

“Clint, stop hogging all the apple cider!”

“You’re twenty-four, Kate! Drink the fuckin’ champagne like an adult!”

“But I want apple cider!”

“Will you two shut up?” you yell, rolling your eyes and leaning further back into Bucky’s chest. Everyone’s lounging in the living room, watching the countdown as it hits the two minute mark.

“I brought plenty of apple cider!” Pietro cheers, already a little drunk on the champagne he did not bring. “We drink to the new year and to new relationships!”

Everyone raises their glasses to that. Wanda chugs her champagne and refills it, eyeing the television just in case she needs to speed up her pouring. She’s already far gone, and you just know she’s going to somehow levitate up the stairs and into your own bed like there isn’t a perfectly good, empty bed in the guest room.

Your dad raises his glass, meets your eye, and shares a tiny smile.

One step at a time.

“It’s starting! It’s starting!” Clint announces, stumbling over Pietro who’s criss-crossed on the floor. Clint almost flies into the TV before your dad yanks him back by the shirt collar.

“Apple cider, huh?” your dad chastises, shaking his head. Clint mumbles a tiny apology and goes to sit beside Pietro, clinking his glass with his.

“Let the boy drink! In a few years he’s going to miss the feeling of being blacked-out drunk without a clue how he ended up in one of the guest rooms of Buckingham Palace,” Peggy says, relaxing in her own chair in the corner. She nurses an apple cider — how she even managed to rip the cold bottle from Clint’s hands is a mystery.

“That’s… oddly specific,” Bucky comments. He tries to hide his chuckle behind your head.

Peggy shrugs, smiles at the two of you, then looks back at the television. “Surprisingly, not the snazziest place I’ve woken up in.”

“Ten!”

“To a new year, doll,” Bucky whispers near your ear. You squeeze your hands around his forearms that are wrapped around you.

“Six!”

“To a new start… together.”

Bucky smiles at you, kissing your temple.

“Three!”

He plants a kiss to your cheekbone, to the tip of your nose, to your chin.

“One!”

To a brand new beginning.

All the love. xxMoni

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #reader x bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes smut #avengers x reader #avengers au #holiday au #bucky barnes holiday series #captainsimagines #by Moni #bucky barnes au #mini-series #finale #you x bucky barnes #the warmth of winter #the warmth of winter finale

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screechesincoherently · 2 years

Text

The Cop Out- Sam Kiszka

Part 9 - Kiss and Tell

Masterlist

Synopsis: Y/n and Sam wake up to a new dilemma-- brunch with her family.

Warnings: Swearing, Slight (?) Violence, Name-calling, Toxic Mom

Word Count: 4,080

In Collaboration With: @capturethechaos

The next morning, Y/n woke up to her ringtone over and over again. She had ignored it the first two times, but after the third go around, she got fed up and answered.

“Hello?”

“Hi honey, did you and Sam want to come to brunch with us this morning yet?”

No, I don’t. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t.

“But it’s the holidays Y/n.” She could almost hear her mom saying the words before they even left her mouth. And she really didn’t want to deal with a bitchy mother for Christmas.

“Yeah, let me just wake him up and we’ll meet you there.”

“Okay, we’re thinking about leaving at around eleven-thirty. Does that work?”

“Yes, I just have to clean up a little and get him moving. He’s passed out pretty hard.” The lie slid through her teeth fluidly. In reality, she had no clue where he went last night, and that was the whole reason she only got maybe three hours of sleep.

“Great, love you!”

Y/n hung up and pulled up her texts with Sam.

She glanced at the last message that had been sent, it was from Sam.

Dipshit: Good news, didn’t get lost on my way back to the cabin. Just had to add a couple things to your mom’s present. Heading back now :)

Y/n took a deep breath before starting to type.

Y/n: Hey, mom asked if we wanted to go with them for brunch at 11:30. I told them we would. I’ll be at the cabin.

She quickly tossed her phone to the side, expecting it to take a while before he responded, but her phone vibrated right as it landed on a pillow, her screen lighting up with a picture of the two of them.

Glancing over, but not picking up her phone, she read his response.

Dipshit: Okay, I’ll be there in 5

Y/n got up and made her way into the bathroom to freshen up, and to hopefully wake her up too. She turned the water on as hot as she could stand it and stepped behind the curtain. She washed her hair and went to grab her body wash, but realized she hadn’t grabbed it on her way to the bathroom. She glanced around the bathroom– not wanting to exit the room– for anything that could substitute, only finding Sam’s bathroom bag sitting on the counter.

Wasn’t really planning on smelling like a guy today, but here we are.

She grabbed the bottle and finished her shower, wrapping a towel around her chest. She pulled on her underwear and bra before hanging up her towel, hopping back to the bed as she put on her pants. She heard a chuckle behind her, and turned to see Sam leaning against the doorframe.

Both of their faces fell, and Y/n’s eyes caught sight of the bruise spread across his cheekbone.

“What the hell happened to you Sam?!” She said, rushing up to him and grabbing his face, carefully inspecting the bruise.

“I ran into a pole. I’m fine.”

“Oh, and how did you find a pole shaped like a fist? I can see the knuckle marks, Sam.”

“Call it luck. I have a way.”

“Who punched you Sam? Are you okay?”

“Yeah I’m fine, I’ll just take some painkillers.”

“Sam, that’s not what I’m getting at.”

“If you think I’m in bad shape, you should see the other guy.” He responded with a wink, still avoiding the question.

“Y/n, I promise, I’m fine.”

“Okay, so what are you planning on telling my mom when she sees your face? That you ran into the fucking fist shaped pole?”

“We’ll just tell her things got a little out of control last night, if you know what I mean.” He said with a wink.

Her face stayed the same, waiting for an actual answer.

“I’ll just tell her I slipped onto a pile of chunky ice. Can I take a shower now?” He asked, looking longingly at the bathroom door.

“After you tell me where you went last night. Where did you even sleep?”

“My car, surprisingly comfortable once I contorted onto the back seat.”

“Sam! It was freezing out last night!”

“I had a few blankets in the car, I was fine.” He shrugged, walking towards the bathroom.

“God, you’re a dipshit sometimes.”

“That’s why I have this.” He said, holding up his wrist as he walked past her, flashing the D charm on his bracelet.

Y/n grabbed his wrist, keeping him from moving any further. He glanced down at her hand, eyes getting caught on her bracelet, immediately spotting the G already set on hers. A small smile spread on his lips at the sight.

“Go shower. You smell like ass.”

“And you-- smell like my body wash. Did you miss me that much?” He teased.

“Go away.” She said, rolling her eyes, pushing his arm away from her.

“I’m taking that as a yes.” He said as he closed the bathroom door.

“I didn’t say that!” Y/n yelled from the other side of the door.

“Didn’t have to.”

Y/n laughed to herself, and walked into the kitchen beginning a small pot of coffee, just enough for one cup for each of them before they needed to leave. Something to make her feel better about leaving Sam out in the cold the night before.

She walked into the bedroom, clutching the mugs in either hand. She placed his on the nightstand and sat on the bed, scrolling through her phone while sipping the hot coffee. Every once in a while, she made sure to check the time to see if she needed to harass Sam to put a little pep in his step.

She opened her mouth, about to let out a warning, when the bathroom door opened. Sam walked out, running a hand through his wet hair, a towel wrapped loosely around his waist.

“Didn’t think to bring your clothes in with you Samuel?” She said, raising her brow at him.

He looked up, realizing she was there and offering a cheesy smile.

“I was a bit distracted, I can grab my clothes and change in the bathroom if you’d like.”

“You can put on your boxers underneath the towel Sam.”

He walked over, noticing the cup of coffee and picking it up

“And risk you seeing my dick, nah I think I’ll pass.” He said, taking a sip.

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” She said, glancing at him over the rim of her mug and taking a sip, causing him to choke on his own coffee.

“When did you ever?--”

“I think it was my twenty-first birthday-- we were maybe five shots deep in tequila.” She explained, waiting for it to process in his brain, but he looked even more confused.

“Mackenzie dared all of you to act like strippers.”

Something clicked into place, and his eyes lit up in horror.

“Is that the night I pulled my pants down-”

“And your boxers came down with them-- yes Sam-- yes it is.”

“I was hoping you would have forgotten about that.”

“It’s burned into my brain Sam, I will be forever traumatized by that moment.”

“Fuck you, I’m not that bad looking.”

That’s not the problem, the issue is that-- that night was when I had really come to the realization of how much I wanted my best friend.

Her thoughts had gotten the best of her, she had completely zoned out, her eyes locked on the coffee in her cup.

“You ready to go, Giggles?”

She looked up, realizing she had completely lost herself in her thoughts. She caught his gaze, he had gotten completely dressed.

“But I made you coffee to have before we go.”

“I know. I drank it while you were in la la land. Thinking about me I bet.”

She looked back down at her coffee, the last sip swirling on the bottom. She could feel the burning on her cheeks.

“Yeah-- let’s go.” She said, standing from the bed.

“Uh-- Y/n.” Sam called as she walked to the door.

She hummed a response and turned back to him.

“You might want to put on a shirt first.”

“Fuck you Samuel.”

“Woah-- I’m just trying to help. By all means, go to the country club in your bra, I’m sure Landon would love to see it.”

“I hate you.”

“I’m aware.” He said, holding out one of his sweaters for her to put on.

“I am an independent woman Sam. I can dress myself thank you.” She said as she walked past him to her bag.

Sam chucked the sweater at her before saying “Yeah but by the time you pick one out, you could have this one on and we could be on our way.”

She threw her head back with a sigh, pulling the unfolded sweater off of her head and slipping it onto her torso.

“Thanks mom.” She said to Sam as she walked past him out of the bedroom.

They made their way to the door, but not before Y/n stopped in the kitchen, taking the last gulp of rose before walking back towards Sam to leave.

“What was that for?” Sam asked, laughing at her drinking before noon.

“I need something to help me deal with my family. Not to mention whatever is gonna come out of your loud mouth today.”

“Hmm, you should’ve saved me a sip.

“Want me to regurgitate it for you?”

“Ew. What’s wrong with you?”

“What? You don’t want me to baby bird the last of the wine for you?” She asked, barely able to contain her impending laughter.

“God you’re disgusting. Also, wasn’t that bottle full when we got here yesterday?”

Y/n stopped at the door, turning around to find Sam standing feet away from her, acting appalled.

“Let’s go, we’re gonna be late–” She said, ignoring the question, and trying to avoid the conversation about the night before.

“-- Look I’m not stoked to be seeing my mother first thing in the morning after getting less than four hours of sleep but you have no excuse.” Y/n grumbled as she walked out the door.

“I slept in my car last night, I think I have a bit of an excuse.” Sam said, picking up his pace to catch up with her.

“Yeah… but considering the fact that you actually fell asleep, I’m gonna assume it wasn’t the first time you’ve had to do that.”

“That’s a subject I’d rather not touch. You’ll just make fun of me.”

“How is that different than any other day?”

“So who all is going to brunch?” He said changing the topic as they walked.

“My mom, step-dad, Matthew, his girlfriend, my little brother, my step-sister, her husband, and their kids.”

“Step-sister? When did they get here?” Sam asked.

“They’re just coming for the day. They probably arrived a couple hours ago.”

“Gotcha.”

“So Samuel, you never did tell me who beat the shit out of you last night.”

“I wasn’t planning on telling you.”

“Why not?”

“Figured you could put the pieces together yourself.”

“That shit head. God. I’m sorry Sammy.”

“It’s fine, really. I just wish he had stuck around long enough for me to give him a bruise to match.”

“You know that it wouldn’t have done either of us any good if you had.”

“I know-- he’s still a pussy for running away right after punching me in the face.”

“He was just scared because of how big and muscular you are.” Y/n joked, playfully pushing on his shoulder.

Sam lost his balance, slipping on the pavement and beginning to fall.

Both of them reached out in an attempt to keep him upright, but it just ended with both of them tumbling to the ground.

“This doesn’t prove your point, Y/n. You pushed me while I was on ice.”

“Sure. We’ll go with that.”

The two stayed on the ground for a while longer, laughter washing over the both of them.

As they began to stand up, Y/n’s phone started buzzing in her pocket as a result of her mom calling her.

As Y/n answered, her mom interrupted her greeting.

“Y/n it is eleven twenty. Where are you two?” She said, irritation dripping from her tone.

“We’re coming mom. Sam slipped on the ice and is complaining now. We’ll be there soon.”

“Good because the Youngs are starving.”

“What?” She said, and Sam looked at her confused.

‘The Youngs are coming.’ She mouthed to him, and he nodded his head, brushing the snow and dirt from his pants.

“The Youngs. They’re tagging along to brunch with us.”

“Since when? I thought this was just going to be a family thing.”

Sam looked at Y/n as they continued to walk, trying to hear her mom on the other end with little to no success.

“They are family, Y/n. They’ve been friends with us since before you were even born.”

“Fine. See you soon. Love you.” Y/n said as she hung up the phone.

“Fuck, now I’m really not looking forward to this. Should have opened another bottle before we left.” She groaned.

“I could always push you up against a wall and kiss you the second Landon sees us, if you think that would make it better.”

“You’re so over the top sometimes.”

“So you’re down for that?”

“Fuck it, why not.” She said, hoping only a little that he was joking.

“Finally, you agree with one of my plans.”

“I don't know if I’d say agree, more like give into.”

“Oh whatever, I’ll take what I can get.”

“I’ll push you again. Fucking twig.”

Sam shot her a look, speeding up.

“Sam wait-- come on--” She said, trying to pick up her pace to catch up.

“No. I don’t want you pushing me anymore. Bully.”

By the time the two finished with their petty back and forths, they met Y/n’s mom at the country club’s doors.

“Took you long enough Y/n.” She said completely disregarding the fact that Sam was there too.

“Sorry, it was slippery out.”

“You could have left earlier. Now we’re ten minutes late thanks to you.”

“No, it’s my fault. I kept falling behind. Quite literally.” Sam said, trying to direct her mothers attention away from her.

“Oh, no. You’re fine! Y/n’s just always been a little behind, haven’t you sweetie?”

“No, actually. She was trying to get me moving, but I was just trying to mess around.”

“She’s a big girl, Sam. She can admit to her flaws.”

“Alright, I think the Youngs will be at the restaurant anytime now, so we should probably head out.” Matthew said, purposely slicing the tension with his peppy voice.

The group turned and began to walk towards the restaurant, Sam wrapping his arm around Y/n and giving her a sympathetic look and rubbing her back.

As they reached the entrance, they could see the Young family, and Sam felt Y/n tense up in his grasp.

“Y/n-- hey, look at me.” Sam said, lifting her face to look at him.

He looked at her, hesitantly leaning down to whisper in her ear.

“We’ve got this.”

“Yeah.” Y/n said trying to build up the confidence to at the least go and sit at the table.

Landon’s eyes skimmed over the rest of Y/n’s family, landing on the two. He let his glare linger over Sam, inspecting the mark on his face from the night before. Sam met Landon’s stare, throwing a look of disgust towards him, but Landon must have been content with the damage he had done to Sam’s face as he sat up straighter, a devilish smirk forming.

Y/n felt Sam pull her closer, and her eyes slid past the interaction, suddenly finding her winter boots to be very intriguing.

“Sam, don’t start anything please. Not today.”

“Wasn’t planning on it baby. But I’ll finish something if I need to.”

She looked back up at him, the two staring at each other for a moment before he broke into a cheesy grin.

“What’s got you so cheery all of a sudden?” She asked.

“I just remembered what we had agreed to. There may not be any walls to push you against, but I can make do.”

“Sam--”

“I won’t do it if you’re not comfortable with it.”

“Please do.”

“Sure?”

A smile spread across her lips, stretching up to press her lips against his. The grin on his face widened, and he lifted his hands to cup her face, making a performance out of it.

“Again with the dramatics, Sam. Such a romantic.” Y/n said laughing as they pulled away.

“I’ll be right back babe. I’m gonna run to the bathroom.”

From across the table Sam heard a cough.

“What happened Sam?” Landon asked.

Sam looked at him quizzically.

“Your face. Y/n finally get sick of you and your antics?”

“Quite the opposite actually. Got a little heated last night-- excited about the engagement-- you know how it is. Right?”

“Oh, but I thought it was a little cold last night actually, wouldn’t you say so?”

“I’d think so, the walk back to the cabin was crisp, but I wouldn’t want to be walking out there on my own. Might look like some pitiful loser with no fiancée to fuck.”

“You say that like you’ve experienced it Sam.”

“You can ask Y/n, I’m sure she’d love to tell you all about it.”

“I’m sure she has more manners than to kiss and tell.”

“And I thought maybe you’d have more manners than to meddle in other people's business, maybe we’re both wrong.”

“At least I’m not pretending to date her just to get a quick fuck and then leave.”

“At least she doesn’t have to be in a room full of people to feel safe around me.”

“Bullshit. I’m not scared of you fucking bitch.”

“Is that why you ran away after you punched me-- you too much of a pussy to deal with actual confrontation?”

“You wouldn’t be able to do shit to me. Scrawny ass white boy.”

“He might not be able to, but you’re wrong when you assume I won’t kiss and tell, and I’m not one to let someone insult my fucking fiancé.” Y/n said.

“Stay out of this, bitch.”

“Make me.”

Landon turned to her, fire in his eyes. But neither him or Sam were prepared for her to grab Landon by the shoulders and shove her knee into his crotch.

He keeled over, a loud groan escaping him as he clutched himself. She leaned down, lifting his chin so that he was looking directly into her eyes.

“If you ever try something like that again Landon, I’ll do a hell of a lot worse than you could even begin to imagine--” She dropped his face from her hand.

“-- and for your information, you’re half the man Sam is-- and I sure as hell know who’s name I’d rather scream.”

She straightened herself out and walked over to Sam, placing her hand on his chest.

“I thought I told you to not start anything.”

“Blame Landon, he marched over the second you left.” His face grew redder by the second accentuating the bruise on his face.

She lifted a hand to his face, lightly brushing her thumb over the bruise. He winced slightly, moving away from her hand.

She met his eyes, concern laced in them on both ends. She grabbed his face gently, keeping him from moving any further, instead brought his face to hers, placing a gentle kiss on the mark on his face.

The tender moment was quickly interrupted by them hearing Landon exclaim to the table of families.

“Oh my god! You guys really are eating this shit up aren’t you?”

Everyone turned their attention to him, confused looks on their faces.

“They are faking this--” He said, dramatically turning to face Sam and Y/n.

“--All of this, it’s an act. I heard Sam telling his mom all about it last night. He was so proud about how you were all falling for it!” He looked manic, and it actually started to frighten Y/n, how far he was willing to go purely out of jealousy and spite.

She found herself scrambling to grab Sam’s hand as Landon kept talking, which had by now turned into yelling. Sam pulled her closer, turning her away from Landon, and her family who was watching this all play out.

He leaned down, his lips pressed into the top of her head, a hand resting between her shoulder blades.

“Do you wanna leave baby?”

“Yes please.” Y/n said into his shirt which made it only audible to him.

As Landon kept going, Sam turned Y/n slightly to the side just enough so they could begin to walk out of the restaurant.

“Where the fuck do you two think you’re going!?” Landon yelled, fully turning to them.

“Alright! That’s fucking enough Landon, leave my sister alone or I swear to god I will be the one to beat the shit out of you.” Matthew said, standing from his seat.

The look on Landon’s face shifted, much more intimidated by Matthew’s stature, towering at over six feet, he looked down at Landon like an ant on the concrete.

“You’re quick to open your mouth Landon, but did you really think her brothers would just sit here and listen to you berate her and her fiancé.” Benjamin, Y/n’s younger brother, said as he stood up with Matthew.

Once Sam and Y/n couldn’t hear the bickering, Sam pulled her into a tight hug.

“It’s all okay--”

He squeezed her tighter, feeling her shiver.

“--We’re okay.”

Are we? Y/n thought to herself. Emotions swam through her head like a storm. Everything; feeling, action, that brought them to this point, taking its turn clouding her brain. Feelings that she thought she had gotten rid of, feelings that she was growing accustomed to, actions that had been produced by the two of them as a result of her hasty decision making. They overpowered her ability to speak, so she didn’t. She clung to Sam, knowing that their dynamic would be altered after the last week and a half. For better or worse.

Was this the right moment? Sam was torn, feeling her cling to him for support.

Not now.

Not yet.

Sam kept a tight grip on her the entire way back to the cabin, leading her around the ice patches to avoid any slips like the one they had on the way there.

They reached the cabin, and Sam sat Y/n down on the couch, and went to make a couple cups of coffee. While he waited for it to start brewing, he pulled out his phone and texted his mom.

Sam: I don’t know if this is the right time mom.

Mom: Yes, you do.

Sam: Helpful

Mom: You’ll know, honey.

Sam returned to Y/n, handing her the cup. As soon as she took the coffee, tears began to fall down her face, despite her best efforts at holding them back.

“Not the right time for coffee?” Sam said, trying to get her to smile, at least just a little. It worked.

“Shut up.”

“It’s okay, Giggles. We’re okay. I promise.”

“Are we though? If I had just kept my damn mouth shut we could’ve avoided this whole mess.”

“Y/n--”

“No, if I wouldn’t have said anything to Landon at the coffee shop, none of this would’ve happened! I didn’t even need to say that I was coming to this thing. Look where it got us. You got punched because of me, you slept in your car because of me! I fucked it all up. You were just trying to help, but I caused all of this, I didn’t ne--”

Sam grabbed her face, a hand on either side, holding her in place, and he crashed his lips onto hers. Every ounce of emotion he had felt over the last week and a half– no, twelve years pouring itself into the kiss. She was surprised for a second, but melted into him, letting go of all the worries she had been piling onto herself. This was them, truly them. No acting-- no façade.

Now was the right time.

Taglist:

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@theweightofstardust @jakekiszkasgiggle @alwayssotiredbutneverofyou @chalametpwk @cowboysamkiszka @katie-gvf

@sammykiszkasunusedshoes @thehippieelement

@welightthefire @h-e-l-l-o-s

@lucidliving1205 @kaylal15

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@gretavanhoney @dannythedog @oopslashes

@obetrolncocktails @samsdirtyfeet

@godblessmarywanna @joshkiszkastea @prettyxvenomx @basically-hayley @j3rboa @fictional-duchess

#sam kiszka #sam kiszka x reader #sam kiszka imagine #sammy gvf #greta van fleet #greta van fleet imagine

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crackedoutwalnut · 3 years

Text

kiss my bruises better (Natasha x Wanda x Fem!Reader)

Summary: When Reader gets injured during a battle, it is up to her girlfriends Natasha and Wanda to mother hen her back to health.

Warnings: Violence and mentions of injuries in the beginning. Other than that just pure fluff.

A/N: Guess who got COVID and now has way too much free time??? :,)

It started with Fury sending you on an undercover mission alongside Natasha, Wanda, and Steve. Your objective was simple: obtain the dangerous alien artifact from the terrorist organization's lair and get your asses it back to Avenger's Tower. Nothing you and the rest had not dealt with before. However, there was one thing you four did not anticipate. There were hundreds of the organization's agents crawling around the base. Every corner they snuck around, there was another group of grunts patrolling. As a field scout, you were used to sneaking around; however, this was on another level. By the time Steve signaled for you to return to the meeting spot over the comms, you had already been spotted.

The group of half a dozen agents took one look at you before charging forward with their alien weaponry. One of them, a burly man in an all-black armored jumpsuit, hit a large button on a security panel near the ventilation shaft you had shimmied out from minutes prior. Being a scout, you were only equipped with the bare minimum of weapons a dagger, semi-lethal taser, and a small crossbow. In other words: not weapons one would use in a 1-versus-6 fight. Letting out a grunt of frustration as a loud alarm started to blare, you shouted a warning to Cap and your girlfriends' over the comms.

You leaped backward, away from a meaty fist that had just threatened to shatter your jaw into splinters. Flicking open the holster that held your taser, you slammed the muzzle of the taser gun into the side of the man's head and released the probes. The man convulsed, falling to the tile with a heavy thud. Another agent, a towering woman, let out a shout of outrage in a language you assumed to be Russian. She and the four other remaining against charged at you, weapons at the ready. You stumbled blindly backward, hoping to reach a staircase, window, elevator, anything. Unfortunately, luck was not on your side that day. Your back collided violently with the paneled wall behind you.

A curse that could make a sailor blush fell from your lips as you palmed around frantically for your dagger. The blue and black blade was an anniversary gift courtesy of Natasha, an odd gift to be sure; however, it was about as romantic as the assassin got. Grasping it firmly in your sweaty grip, you blindly swung at one of the grunts before you. The pommel collided with his nose in an upward arch, causing the man to fall to the ground, blood dripping from his now crooked nose. Apparently, the swing was hard enough for his nasal bone to fracture into his brain.

You took a step to sprint through the opening the dead man had cleared for you but, the burly woman seemed to beat you to the punch. She grabbed violently at your arm, twisting it at an odd angle behind your back. You slammed face-first into the wall behind you, causing your nose and lip to start leaking blood at an alarming pace. You groaned and squirmed, trying to free yourself from her iron fists.

"Stop struggling, bitch," she ordered, slamming your head against the solid paneling of the wall once more. Pain blossomed along the crown of your skull, and your vision started to blur in response. "Who sent you," she snarled against your ear.

You spat out the pool of blood that had collected in your mouth at another agent's feet, "Fuck you," you snarled, your voice muffled from being shoved against the wall.

The agent you had spat at raked the brass knuckles clenched on his fingers along your arm. Deep cuts spilled over with even more crimson. You let out a strangled scream as he twisted them further into the new cuts. The woman kneed her leg against your arm with a sickening pop. Your vision danced with black and white dots as pain shot through your body. You were about to scream when a loud bang sounded from behind the woman and her cronies. She let you go in shock, causing you to fall to the ground next to the dead agent. You moaned in pain, curling your now broken arm against your chest.

"Y/n!" A familiar voice shouted from the other end of the hall. It sounded fuzzy as if someone had shoved headphones over your ears. You gritted your teeth and forced your increasingly heavy head to look at the source of the noise. Through the dots dancing in your blurring vision, you were able to make out a furious Wanda, next to her an equally angry Natasha. You opened your mouth to reply when only a pained wheeze escaped. A boot was pressing against your back, applying pressure to your fractured forearm. You let out a scream of agony as tears spilled down your face. Before your consciousness gave way, you beheld Wanda exploding in a bright ball of scarlet towards you and the agents.

"...turn the TV down, you're going to wake her." You slowly came back to yourself at the sound of voices around you. Your mind was swimming in fuzzy warmth, a dull ache exploding in through your temples like a timpani. Despite the pain that seemed to radiate through every inch of your body, you were also strangely cozy. A soft warmth was wrapped around you like a cocoon, not to mention the pillow that seemed to meld with your head and abdomen. You hummed contently and nuzzled further into the cushion.

"Are you sure she's okay?" A concerned voice rang from directly above you. The voice was warm and familiar, like a well-worn sweater. "She's been knocked out for almost four hours. Plus, my legs are starting to go numb."

An amused huff sounded from behind you, "Banner said the painkillers would make her drowsy."

"Yeah, but... four hours? What if something is wrong with her?"

"You know Y/n, she does things on her own terms. She will only wake up when it suits her." Both the voices laughed at that remark. You fought the urge to huff in protest; you weren't that stubborn. The pillow beneath you shook with the light laughter and shifted. You furrowed your brows; cushions didn't usually chuckle. You grumbled at the disturbance and cracked your eyes open. Your so-called pillow had caramel red hair and a black Def Leppard t-shirt.

"Wanda?" you mumbled drowsily. You lifted your head slowly from the place it was resting against her chest. Your face flushed slightly at the thought of using her breasts as a pillow for so long.

She smiled warmly and lifted an arm that had been resting protectively along your back to stroke your hair. Her other hand had been tracing circles along your side for the past few minutes. "Good afternoon, sleeping beauty."

"Where are we?" You attempted to look around; however, your head exploded with pain at the effort. Wanda seemed to notice your wince because she carefully guided your head to lay against her chest once more.

"We are back at the tower. You slept the entire flight home," Natasha, who must be on the other side of the couch, replied.

You groaned, "Everything hurts."

"Being jumped by a group of terrorist agents will do that to you," the assassin replied sarcastically. You kicked lightly at the girl, your foot nudging her thigh. She laughed snarkily and shoved lightly at your foot.

"Nat, stop teasing her," Wanda chided playfully, threading her fingers through your hair. You practically purred at the attention, nuzzling your face against her. She pressed a soft kiss to your aching temple in response.

"Why am I getting lectured?" Natasha protested in mock indignation.

"Because you are not the one hopped up on painkillers."

"But I am the one who detained the agent that had broken her arm. Surely that deserves some credit."

Your eyes shot open once more at the mention of the mission, "Shit, the terrorists. What happened to them? Is everyone okay?" You jolted up, attempting to sit up fully. Natasha was at your side in an instant, hand resting on your shoulder.

"Hey, hey, calm down. We're fine; we handled them," she soothed, rubbing your back gently. "Everyone's safe, I promise."

You relaxed slightly, "And the artifact?" the hesitance was evident in your voice.

Natasha sighed kissed your cheek in reassurance, "We were not able to save you and obtain the alien artifact. They were on high alert at that point, and it was too risky."

You pursed your lips, shoulders drooping in shame. They had failed because of you. Dangerous technology continued to threaten the world because you were unable to do your job.

Wanda must have read your mind because she pulled you closer to her and placed a kiss on top of your head. "Hey, this isn't your fault. None of us knew that the compound would be so well protected."

You shrugged, looking down at your hands. Your right arm, the one the woman broke, was wrapped in a thick plaster cast the color of a hospital gown. Your other arm was dressed in a thick layer of bandages, covering the jagged cuts left by the bronze knuckles.

"Honey, there was no way we could have known," Wanda murmured, using a finger to lift your chin. "If anything, it's our fault for not being there in time. If something were to happen to you, I don't know what I would do." She placed a protective arm around your back as if she was shielding you from an invisible threat.

"You did very well defending her," Natasha soothed, kissing Wanda's cheek. She turned to you with a smirk, "You should have seen her; I thought she was going to send the whole building crashing down with how angry she was."

You smiled, "I'm sure you two did great, as always."

"She's right though, this wasn't your fault, nor was it a significant loss. Rogers is already with Stark and Banner at the location of the artifact. They plan on regrouping back here before following through with the next phase of the plan."

You sighed in relief, "That's good. So when do we go through with the next step?"

Wanda scrunched her nose and smiled, "It's adorable that you think you are going to be anywhere near the next phase of the plan."

"You can't be serious. I'm perfectly fine!" You insisted. Natasha raised her brow and pressed a finger against the bandages on your left arm. You winced and let out a quiet yelp before batting her hand away. "Okay, I may be a bit injured, but other than that, I'm okay to fight."

"Y/n, you have a minor concussion, a broken arm, and a broken nose," Wanda pointed out, her accent thick with concern.

"Nothing I hadn't had before," you shrugged.

"Y/n don't start," Natasha warned, standing from her place at your side. She strode out of your line of view.

"Where are you going?" You whined, not wanting her to leave.

"I'm just getting you water, Babe. Don't worry, I will be right back." You nodded, settling back against your other girlfriend. Wanda reached over you to pull the blankets further up your body. You hummed contently and sighed against her chest. Wanda was always warm; her skin seemed to radiate a cozy heat that filled you with a sense of peace. Her protective arms were coiled firmly around your waist.

"How are you doing, Honey?" Wanda asked, nuzzling against the top of your head.

"Tired," you complained, hiding your face away in the crook of her neck.

"I think I should talk to Bruce before allowing him to hop my girlfriend up on painkillers. He gave you a pretty high dose." Wanda tilted her head so that her cheek was resting against your hair. Her hair had a lingering smell of citrus and lavender that set off the butterflies in your stomach. You hummed and inhaled once more. Wanda chuckled, her smirk evident in her voice, "Are you smelling my hair?"

You paused, "...No."

The witch's shoulders shook with laughter, jostling you slightly. "You know I can read minds, right? I know you're lying."

You huffed and burrowed your face further into her neck, "Asshole."

She kissed the top of your head, "Love you too."

"I'm back," Natasha announced, striding towards the couch.

You turned away from Wanda's neck so that your back was against her front. The assassin sat down on the coffee table next to you, holding a glass of water. You licked your chapped lips and reached out to take the drink. Natasha raised a brow and pulled the cup further away from you. A frown formed on your lips, realizing what she wanted. "Oh, come on, Nat. I don't need help drinking water," You rolled your eyes.

Natasha tsked, "I'm not risking it, you may still be a bit sluggish from the meds, and I don't want you spilling all over yourself and Wanda," She tucked a strand of hair from your forehead. "Come on, Baby. Let us take care of you."

Biting your lip, you nodded exasperatedly, "Fine." Natasha carefully placed the lip of the glass near your mouth and tipped a bit of water out. This went on until only a quarter of the glass was left. You had not realized how thirsty you were until you saw the glass of water. "Thank you," your eyelids drooped, feeling tired once more.

"You should rest some more," Wanda murmured.

"But, I just woke up," you argued, words slurred with sleep.

"And if you ever want to go on another mission again, you will take the time to rest and recover," Natasha insisted, tucking the blanket around your body. She settled at your feet, pulling them into her lap. You opened your mouth to argue; however, Wanda had started stroking your hair once more. The words were lost in your throat as your eyes slipped shut. The warmth from both your girlfriend and the blanket seemed to wash over you in waves. The last thing you felt was a soft hand tracing patterns along your arm.

#wanda maximoff x reader #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow #natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #mcu fic #marvel #marvel fic #avengers x reader #wlw #lgbtq

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sukirichi · 3 years

Text

earned it [05]

Gojo Satoru is a firm believer that if you work hard for it then you shall earn it. But on the other side, he’s not unfamiliar with his own sins. He also believes that there is punishment due for his sins as he’s earned it.

cw. domestic abuse, car accident, slight angst, sexism, suggestive scenes, unedited and my naoya simping is obvious with this one,

notes. TEAM NAOYA LET’S GOOOO *sighs* finally got this out from my drafts. anyways, here’s an earned it update while i recover from migraines because my schedule was so hectic last week and i’m so tired, might be sleeping a lot these days hence the hiatus :( also ik i keep saying this but future chapters will finally be more...UH SPICY AND MORE DRAMATIC, I guess? this is mostly an angst fic btw so please don’t expect too much fluff of heartwarming romance. there WILL be romance,,,it just takes some time hehe, anways ENJOY...or not :)

series masterlist

Women were weak. Trained to be voiceless, compliant, and unable to fight – Naoya found them weak.

His own mother was the perfect epitome of that. For years, he’d watched her leave his father’s room with dried tears, wiping them away with the back of her sleeves. When she saw a little Naoya standing at the edge of the hallway, she’d immediately usher him back to his room, her tears replaced with a smile so convincing Naoya wouldn’t have believed she’d been crying if he hadn’t seen it for himself.

Naoya wasn’t stupid. How could he be when day and night, he’s surrounded by tutors, expected to take over his clan and lead them all to a brighter future?

How could he be stupid when he can’t sleep at night, for the screams and cries of his mother, the sound of palm hitting cheek resonating just from the other room, accompanied with the insults directed her way by his own father?

How could he be so stupid when he looked up to his mother – who he believed was the only source of light in the rather desolate walls of their manor – only to see that her beauty faded with each passing day, the brightness of her eyes now filled agony, with pain, with fear? She no longer smiled; not even for him. She no longer came around his room to read him bedtime stories no matter how much Naoya pleaded because he’d gotten tired of reciting scriptures and poetry. She no longer kissed him on the forehead as a morning greeting, opting to stay in the sidelines with her head bowed, acting as if she was a servant and not his mother.

Naoya wasn’t stupid. As the future leader of the Zen’in Clan, it was his duty to hear and see everything, to be wary of everyone around him and to observe. He knew his father abused her. He knew his father hated her, looked down on her, stepped on her at each moment he could. And as if that wasn’t enough, Naoya found out they weren’t married in the first place.

She had been nothing but a mere concubine whose role was to birth an heir. Now that Naoya had come to life, her purpose to live ceased to exist. And people who had no role in the Zen’in estate had no reason to stay any further.

“Mother,” Naoya cried out, tugging at his mother’s sleeve. “Mother, please don’t go, don’t leave me!”

She was crying again; he wished she’d stop doing that, that she’d stop being so weak. He wanted his mother to be strong and fight back, but she’s not even attempting to wipe her tears away this time, displaying her vulnerability and meek self to him. Had his father been there, she’d be scolded again, claiming that Naoya shouldn’t be exposed to behaviors of surrender and weakness.

His mother cupped his face, trying her best to keep the younger version of himself from dangling onto her robes; the expensive, silk material the last evidence she’d ever been a part of them.

“Naoya, baby, it’s okay. You need to grow up strong and be the clan leader, okay?”

“But why do you have to leave? Why do you never fight back?”

“I’m sorry, dear...” was all she said, finally kissing him on the forehead like she’d failed to do so for the past months. Somehow, it didn’t make him feel any better. Instead, Naoya’s cries grows louder with each minute, loud enough that he caught the attention of his manservants who paled at the Young Master’s wails that was sure to displease his father locked inside his study. His mother sent a glance their way that expressed messages he couldn’t yet understand due to his innocence. Strong arms wrapped around his smaller frame until they dragged Naoya away from his mother, the sight of a luggage behind her turning him weak in the knees.

“Remember, Mother always loves you.”

“No!” he fought against their hold. His servants did all they could to not harm the Young Master’s skin, but Naoya was too strong, too desperate that they were unable to hold him back.

Naoya kept running and running, uncaring of the fact his loose robes hindered him from going at full speed. He didn’t stop, even as his servants had trailed after him, desperate pleas for the Young Master to come back falling into deaf ears. His mother had arrived on a nearby bus from the open roads that led outside the Zen’in Estate’s outer gates, her hand frozen on the doors with her head slightly tilted to the side.

That slight moment of hesitance – to look behind or leave everything behind – was what made Naoya stop in his tracks. He breathed hard, sweaty palms on his knees as he silently prayed to the divine beings to bring his mother back, for her to look at him one last time.

But she didn’t.

And Naoya was frozen in his tracks, everything colliding into one crash and burn that he failed to make sense of everything. He stood there and watched his mother hop into the bus, her decision to leave him behind final and irrevocable. What had rung louder then? The way his heart shattered into pieces, or the loud honking of an incoming car that not even his skilled team of guards could protect him from?

Naoya figured it must’ve been the muffled cries of his mother behind the windows that rung the loudest even if he hadn’t heard it.

Until now, he carried the mark his mother left behind; a gnarly scar running inches from his kneecaps that throbs until now. It reminds him every day what could happen to someone once they’re weak, once they’re vulnerable, the horrifying consequence of not being strong enough to face in this world like a huge slap in his face. In a way, he felt grateful for the scar; at least it was proof he’d done his best to run after his mother, and this injury just taught him it was best to face things head on instead of running away.

This scar would always tell him that running away was never the option, and that was why Naoya felt so strong, so disappointed when he met you. Naoya saw much potential in you – the wrath firing in your eyes and the will to fight back is what pulled him in on the first place – and yet you were already trembling on the ground, your sweat dripping on the floor.

“Stand up!” he demanded, tapping his cane on the ground as he wobbled to his feet. “Do you really think being weak will make you survive in this world?”

“I’m trying!”

“You’re not trying hard enough,” he spat out, matching the intensity of your glare. Had you been any lesser of a woman, a servant, he’d have your eyes gouged out. But to him, you were a vessel of hope, an embodiment of strength he could help you hone that he let you off. Still, he felt extremely let down that he expected so much from you, and you’ve been pathetic so far.

Naoya shook his head as he left. “You’re going to die the moment you step out of here. And to think I actually had high hopes for you. As expected, you women are weak and pathetic. Each one of you is useless.”

He didn’t get very far when his injury throbbed again. Naoya fell to his knees and immediately bit down on his lip to conceal his groans, but it was too late. You’ve rushed to him in an instant, already pulling his slacks upwards to get a good look at his knee. Worry is painted all over your features still drenched in sweat and exhaustion, and he pried your hand away, a frown deep on his lips.

“Get away from me. I don’t need a woman’s help.”

“You’re so uptight, you know that?” you rebutted with a roll of your eyes. Naoya watched as you skipped to the nearest medical kit he always kept in his training grounds (which he rarely used) and popping out painkillers to hand to him. “Just shut up and let me take care of you. Unlike you, I don’t walk around calling people weak, and you having this injury never made you weak in my eyes, but you’re not impotent either,” scoffing at him, you pushed the bottle of water to a very annoyed looking Naoya. “At least let me take care of you every once in a while.”

His whole life, Naoya knew nothing but the familiar bitter cold. Being served tea, scaring his servants with his mere presence, the toxic view that everyone was below them drilled into his own head – that had been his life, and his feelings about it were neither hot nor cold.

To him, it was just the way he’s supposed to be.

But the warmth of your hands, the tenderness of your touch to his scars not because you found him weak but rather you cared for him…it tugged at his heartstrings. That had been at least five years ago and Naoya still remembered that moment very clearly.

He couldn’t understand whether he hated his inability to run away or not, because to be around you confused him to no end. One moment, he saw you as nothing but his one way ticket to fortune, but when he was alone with you, he was beginning to see you more as a woman rather than a pawn to his game. Soon, you became more than that, and nothing had terrified him even more that he let someone in his heart just like that.

Did he love you? No, most definitely not. A man like him didn’t know how to love. But with you – every time he saw you – Naoya is confident to admit that he could somehow understand what love meant.

It had been a hellish trip – one he’d never admit it out loud that he wished to never go on again. He was just happy to be home before he laughed, because home? He’d never thought he’d ever say that, yet there he was, beaming at the sight of you pushing your weight off the limousine.

You looked as stunning as usual, running up to him even with your heels before wrapping your arms around his neck. Usually, Naoya didn’t like public displays of affection since it could greatly deter his reputation, but everyone knew both of you weren’t each other’s weaknesses that he didn’t care whether his people could see their leader grinning as his wife welcomed with a kiss. Naoya balanced himself on his cane to encircle a hand to your waist, pulling you closer and burying his face in your hair.

“I missed you,” you mumbled with your head buried in his shoulder.

Naoya’s smile wasn’t any less affectionate. “I missed you more.” And he did – a whole lot. Even as you both made it inside the limousine, the tablet passed to him per the usual to update him on what happened on the few days of his absence, Naoya couldn’t keep his hands to himself. His cane balanced between his knee and the door, while his free hand intertwined with yours, mindlessly caressing the matching rings that symbolized more trust than love.

“How did it go?” he brought your knuckles up to his lips and kissed it, his attention still focused on today’s stock market. “Did you convince him to lend us the lab?”

“Yes, my love, everything is under control. I told you I had it.”

“Cunning little minx,” he smirked at the confidence and triumph dripping from your voice. Naoya shut his tablet off with a click, hauling you until you were resting on his lap. Giggles erupted beautifully from your lips as you pressed your forehead to his, both your smiles equally mischievous. “Did you sleep with him?”

“No. Satoru is still hopelessly in love with me, so it didn’t really take much to push him to the edge with a few tears and white lies,” you smiled at him, soon dropping from your face when Naoya’s eyes darkened with an unreadable – no, unfamiliar hint of worry behind them. “Naoya,” you caressed his leg, “I don’t care about him anymore, you’ve got nothing to worry about. I just want to survive and put everything behind,” you cupped his face and forced him to look you in the eye, making sure he heard every bit of sincerity in your voice. “You know I love you, right? I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth. Him coming back doesn’t change a thing.”

“I know that,” he said, although deep down, in the dark recesses of his heart, something agonizing stirred within.

You were a smart woman – too intelligent that he may have feared you had he been any lesser – who could easily read through him, but Naoya wanted to be a step ahead of you that he caught your lips to stop you from seeking beneath his soul already. He knew that if you looked a little too close, you’d see everything, and that would be the last thing he wanted.

Snaking his tongue past your lips, he greedily swallowed your moans. Naoya’s touch was possessive as he gripped your thigh, seconds away from ripping off the material of your dress. He only stopped once he saw his driver pale in awkwardness, and he chuckled to himself, squeezing your hips to stop you from grinding on his thigh.

“You’re always so good for me,” he praised, “I might just reward you once we get home.”

Home. Prior to meeting you, home had been nothing but a word in his extensive vocabulary. Home had been nothing but something that carried a meaning but no significance in his living, but now that he’d met you, home felt familiar. Home smelled like rose-scented shampoos, it resonated of bubbly laughter and curious hands finding its way to its belt. Home…you’d just given him something to lose.

As per the plan, you managed to sneak past Satoru’s defenses. Naoya had once said that your secret weapon was not your tempting nature as a woman, but rather your intelligence that sometimes put his to shame. He’d shamelessly announced his plan to use you again with the goal of taking matters into your own hands, looping Satoru into the picture until you have him wrapped around your finger again.

It turned out to be easier than expected. Truthfully, you wanted to refuse. It wasn’t because you were worried you’d beat yourself in your own game and fall for Satoru again, but because it felt so uncomfortable to hold him like that, to kiss him like that.

Each second you spent with him just served as a painful reminder of how he’d mindlessly pushed you to the side from a failed plan of ‘protecting’ you.

However, you couldn’t complain nor deny Naoya’s wishes. He wanted to use your abilities to the fullest of its extent and bring out your potential. Besides, you trusted him wholeheartedly that you’d never question his motives, even if it included seducing Satoru with crocodile tears and a faux broken heart to get him to bend and move at your will. After all, your will was also Naoya’s, and that was what made the both of you so dangerous together.

Standing here now in Satoru’s laboraty, sending him phoney desperate glances as you clutched your husband’s hand, the game had just begun.

He was giving you both a tour of what you could use from his laboratory, and Naoya had kept silent the whole time. The whole drug manufacturing was more your expertise than his. He simply observed everything with watchful eyes, his gaze darting between Satoru’s longing ones and yours. It was a play pretend of push and pull, everyone in the room except for Satoru unaware that soon, you’d bare your fangs to rip his neck apart, and then you’d stand aside and let Naoya finish the business.

You would’ve laughed had Naoya not tightened his grip on your hand. Both you and Satoru paused as Naoya desperately shushed you up, his eyes wide and floating from one corner to another.

Suddenly, a loud explosion came out of nowhere. The blast crushed half of the building to bare rubble and concrete and you saw nothing but black, inhaled so much smoke that your lungs quivered. The ringing in your ears didn’t stop as you wobbled to unsteady legs, waving the smoke away and coughing whatever filled your system. Satoru was right beside you, his long limbs quicker than yours before he hauled you up, checking to see if you had injuries but you were too scared, too desolate to care for his worry.

For your husband laid under a pile of rubble, an arm and his head the only parts of his body saved from the explosion.

“Naoya!” You screamed and pushed Gojo away, taking your heels off before darting straight to where he was. Jumping from broken debris to one another, your feet scraped and burned with each contact, the ringing in your ears growing louder along with the pounding of your heartbeat.

“Naoya, baby, no!” you tried to pick up the heavy slab of concrete that had crushed his body, tears blurring your vision until Naoya’s blond hair swiveled with his dark clothes. “Don’t leave me, don’t leave me, don’t you fucking dare-”

“Gojo,” he choked out blood. You fell to your knees as you cupped his face and grasped his hand all the while, your entire body shaking. His name kept falling from your lips as you asked him to stand up but he pushed your hand away, not sparing you another glance as he glared at the shock still man behind you. “Take her someplace far – somewhere he won’t find the both of you. It’s T-Toji.”

“No, Naoya, please! I’m not leaving without you!” It was too late. Satoru had easily carried you and threw you over his shoulder, running away from the scene because that was what he was best at. You pounded at his back as the smoke enlarged and covered the entirety of the building that had fizzled with chemicals inside, your husband starting to disappear from view. “Satoru, let me go! We can’t just leave him there!”

“Listen to your husband! He knows what he’s doing!”

As the smoke cleared for a split second, your world stilled. Naoya’s face was smothered with dirt and stains, pain evident on his twisted features, and yet – he was smiling. “Go,” he mouthed, hands outstretched far enough for your matching rings to glint under the sparkling lights. “Live.”

You slumped into Satoru’s arms. It was too late.

You couldn’t comprehend the events that happened afterwards. Satoru had pushed you inside his car before taking off to who knows where. All you knew was that you’d left your husband behind, and you stared emptily at the streets that flashed by, unable to feel or understand anything. It wasn’t until Satoru dragged you out by the wrist and a plane whirring before you snapped you back to life, your feet turning heavy as you plant yourself on the ground.

Satoru looked back at you.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you shook your head, “I’m not leaving him behind, Satoru, he’s all I have. I need to save him – even if it means I die.”

“You’re not going to die,” he starts off slowly. Satoru moves to place his hands down on your shoulders as if to brace you, even going as far as to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, but you couldn’t really listen, not when the plane hummed to life and remnants of the explosion still clung to your skin.

“Listen, Naoya is a smart man, okay? You know that yourself. He’ll survive, you just need to trust that he’ll make it. Now we have to go before Toji catches up to us and we end up all dying here!” he shook you back to life when your sobs overpowered his speech that fell on deaf ears, and you cried harder, much less like a little girl who quivered in his arms. Satoru sighed, perhaps just as broken from seeing you this way. “He told you to live. Naoya isn’t asking you to die for him, he’s asking you to live and if you don’t get on the plane, we can’t fulfill his wish,” he convinced, but you only bit your lip, still looking back at the car. You could steal it – one punch to his nose and you could easily get away, get back to Naoya, until he said, “You love him right? So respect his wishes.”

You love him. You love Naoya. He would’ve wanted me to live. He asked me to live.

That was the only consolation you could give yourself as you allowed Satoru to take you inside. His right hand man, Geto or something, quietly closed the cabin doors behind you. He was making sure his boss was situated, who in turn was fretting over you. All it took was one last warning glare sent Satoru’s way before he backed off, raising his hands in surrender and falling back to his seat.

Sooner than you’d like, the plane had took off, leaving your heart right behind with each passing second. The higher you flew up in the air, the number you became.

“Where are we going?”

“I have a base in Italy. We should be safe there for a while. Gather resources, plan our next move, contact friends...we’ll be fine,” Satoru pinched the bridge of his nose. It was hard to believe things would be fine when he too seemed restless; whatever happened between him and Toji must’ve really left a scar; not that you cared. You huffed away from Satoru and stared outside the windows instead, your heart dropping the farther Japan was becoming. “Hey. You should get some rest. You’ve had a long day.”

“Whatever,” you snapped at him. You couldn’t stand his voice, not even if he’s saved you.

The only thing that mattered now was living up to Naoya’s wish, and as much as you hated it, Satoru was right. You had to hope he would survive.

The chances of him making it out were low, but knowing Naoya, low chances weren’t zero. As long as he had a little bit of something, he would keep pushing. You just had to place your trust in him.

Kissing your dusty ring, you wiped away your tears one last time, eyes shut tight as you chanted over and over, live, live, live for me! Live! Naoya couldn’t give up that easily. You both had a long way to go, still so many places to travel, thousand more enemies to conquer and defeat. He promised you the fun was just beginning and that you’d get your revenge soon, and Naoya never broke his promises. So you had to trust, had no other choice but to believe that soon he’d be right beside you. He may not be able to completely walk anymore, though none of that mattered. You just wanted to be with him again.

You didn’t realize you’d fallen asleep until Satoru’s hushed whispers woke you up. Sitting up straight, you saw him scowling to whoever he’s talking to on the phone. He looked grim, long, slender fingers caressing his forehead as he sighed. Whatever he heard, it couldn’t have been good, and curiosity got the best of you before you could help it.

“What is it?” Satoru stilled at the sound of your voice, having not expected you to be awake. He refused to meet your eyes as he shut his phone. It angered you further and you stalked his way, slapping a palm down the table before him. “I said, what is it?”

“It’s Naoya...” he said through clenched teeth, still refusing to look you in the eye. “He didn’t make it.”

notes. team naoya...let’s go...cry 😭 when I said I would write more gojo x reader scenes and that they’re still the pairing, I meant it, I just had to take a dark route anyways DO YOU GUYS UNDERSTAND WHY IT TOOK SO LONG FOR ME TO UPDATE THIS, I DIDN’T WANT TO DO THIS TO NAOYA BAE 😭 but on the bright side, italy arc is gonna be SHEESH

taglist open (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @sixeyesgojo @shingekiyofeels @q-the-rockaholic @whatthefuckisthatthing @rogueofbullshit @kat-su-ki @kellyyween @sebootyforlife @asshxcm @charlie-xo @aoi-turtle @ladywaifuuwrites @savantsoulfinder @my-reality-is-in-my-head @hannya-quinn @90s-belladonna @tinyfrogsinmybrain @kinekyuroo @evesmores @ambiguous-something @lilith412426 @kakashiharusohma @aizawap @yumeneji @dora-the-grownup @jotazinha @themrsgojo @d34r-s4t4n @marai-t @toji-bee @hai-cool @badsadbby @stesphy @peach-buns-unicorns @misslezah @riri-marley @gracefullyfallinglikeanime @iwaplant @mikiminaccch | bolder users cannot be tagged

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kaunis-sielu · 3 years

Text

Fire Dogs: 4

It turns out that you didn’t break anything just deeply bruised. Steve brings you home and you feel terrible that he’s wasted his whole night on you and your drama.

“Do you wanna stop and pick up something to eat?”

“No, I’ve got dinner planned. As long as you’re okay waiting for dinner.”

“You’re supposed to take it easy.” He reminds you gently.

“Yea, it’s just Spaghetti. Easy.”

“Come on Fawn, you heard Dr. May, you have to take it easy.”

“I’m right handed, I’ll be fine to put some noodles into hot water and heat some sauce.” You argue and he sighs heavily as he slows to a stop at a stoplight.

“Can you just humor me for one night?” He asks giving you some serious puppy dog eyes. You feel that little prickle of an Alpha command but he doesn’t, like he’d promised.

“Fine. But you don’t get to pay.”

“Woah woah. Now that’s not the deal.”

“That’s the deal.” You argue and Steve glances over at you with an affectionate glare.

“Fine. Has anyone ever told you you’re bossy for an Omega?” He sighs heavily before asking, “What do you want?”

You end up picking up burgers at a little takeout place called Stan’s and eating them at home. Dinner with Steve is fun. He’s smart and charming and you enjoy spending time with him. When you’re done with dinner you grab your Stark Pad and head up to your room. You hear Steve in the shower and you manage to struggle out of your shirt and into your pajamas. You’re supposed to take some painkillers but you’ve got to be up for Sam in a few hours so you don’t.

You’re in way more pain when you wake up at 3:30. You wrap your robe around yourself and open your door. Much to your surprise both Steve and Sam are waiting outside your door.

“You owe me twenty bucks.” Steve says uncrossing one of his arms and holding an open hand out to Sam who pulls his wallet out and slams a twenty into Steve’s hand.

“Um, what?” You ask blinking at the two.

“I bet Sam that you’d be up to make him breakfast and something for Bucky before he goes to bed. Which also means that you didn’t take any pain meds.”

“I’m fine Steve.” You tell him trying to skirt past him.

“Uh, uh, uh Honey.” He pauses you with an arm in front of you, “I know you asked me not to but I wanna know why you need to do this? I just want what’s best for you.” You know he’s talking about not Alpha commanding you, part of it is a simple answer, the other part, not so much.

“Steve, I can’t just not do anything. Okay? I can’t.” You attempt to reason with him, “You guys are out there laying down your lives to help protect my home. I need to do something!” He studies you silently for a moment, just long enough where you’re almost uncomfortable.

“Okay Omega, but the second it’s too much take a break okay? And maybe take half of one of the pills Dr. May gave you. Just to help with the swelling.” He called you Omega again, not that you can lie about it now that Grant had called you an Omega bitch right in front of him. When Steve calls you Omega it’s, nice.

“Will you cut them in half for me before you go? I don’t have much range of motion in my left arm yet.” You ask softly, you have this weird feeling he might like to help take care of you as much as you like helping care for him, Sam and Bucky.

“Yea, I’ll cut one now and do the rest before I head out. If you’re too tired to get up with me please don’t okay?” You nod then follow him down the stairs.

Sam’s breakfast, and Bucky’s dinner, is a little more difficult with your aching body but if Steve notices any of your wincing he thankfully doesn’t say anything. You take the half pill that he offers then with Cooper on your heels trudge back upstairs. It takes you longer to get comfortable this time, you’re still awake when Steve and Bucky come to bed. You hear them talking quietly, you can’t really make out what they’re saying but Steve sounds annoyed. You can feel his irritation through the door and you’re worried you’ve done something. Hopefully you didn’t get him into any trouble with the other firefighters for leaving early.

You end up falling into a half sleep as the sun rises in the sky. You still hear everything going on around you but you can’t react, it’s a terrible way to sleep. You’re pretty sure you hear Steve open the door to check on you at some point, his scent invading the room when he cracks the door open. You relax further and finally fall into a restful sleep.

You wake up around one, Cooper is still laying at your feet when you stretch but he hops down and makes his way to the door with a wagging tail. You groan softly as you sit up, then make your way slowly to the door. You let Cooper out then struggle into your robe your arm aching. You make your way down to the kitchen to feed Cooper and find your bottle of pills full of halves. It makes you smile to see that Steve had taken the time to cut them, you take two of the halves, you’re not going anywhere today so you don’t need to be especially awake.

You do some drawing for your new book, it’s almost done and you couldn’t be more excited. Your deadline is in three days and with only two pages left to draw you’re feeling pretty good about everything. You’ve even decided what your next book is gonna be about, the therapy dogs that are coming in for the firefighters. You won’t use Cooper or any of the other dogs real names but you’re going to share the story.

You must fall asleep on the couch, when you wake Sam is in the kitchen humming away as he cooks. A warm ice pack falls off of your shoulder as you sit up, you grab it then move slowly to your feet. When you wander into the kitchen Sam gives you a broad smile,

“Mornin’ sleeping beauty. How do you feel?”

“Sore. Do you want me to take over?”

“Nah, Fawn. Buck said you didn’t even move when he let Cooper out and left. He did make sure you were breathing and put the ice on your shoulder. He said he wants to check it if you’re okay with that tomorrow before he leaves.”

“It’s just a deep bruise.”

“Yes but our Alpha told us to take care of you so we will.”

“Your Alpha? But you’re all Alphas?”

“Steve is a True Alpha.” Sam explains, “I thought he’d told you.”

“No, so he’s like, the leader of your pack?”

“Exactly.”

“What exactly does that mean?”

“He’s the boss.” Sam says with a shrug, “you like gumbo?”

“Can he Alpha command anyone?”

“Yea, but he wouldn’t. Not without good reason.” You’re almost positive that Steve must’ve Alpha commanded Grant.

“But he can.”

“Yes, why?”

“I think he did.”

“Who?”

“I mean, other than me. I think he Alpha commanded one of the doctors at the ER.” When Sam glances at you over his shoulder you look down at the warm ice pack you’re still holding. “Grant Ward, he’s my ex. He wanted to mate me but I just couldn’t, and he’s been making my life hard ever since.”

“You’re not a Beta are you.” Sam says softly and you look up at him in surprise.

“What do you mean?”

“Steve has been off, like he’s protecting an Omega but Bucky and I couldn’t figure it out because you smell like a Beta.”

“Please don’t say anything. If the town finds out I’m going to have every stupid Alpha at my door.”

“Not with Steve here you won’t.”

“You’re not going to be here forever. When you leave they’ll be all over me.” You tell him hurrying to his side, “Please don’t say anything!”

“I won’t, none of us will.” He promises and you give his arm an appreciative squeeze.

“Thanks Sam. And I do like Gumbo, thank you for cooking.”

“Of course Fawn. If you wanna keep working on your book I can let you know when the food is done.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yup.” So you do as he says and get back to work on your book. You’re on the last page when you hear him call for you.

“Thank you again for cooking. It smells amazing.”

“If I let Carol cook we’d both die.”

“She’s not much of a cook?”

“No, not at all.” He admits with a laugh, “I love the woman but she can’t cook.”

“Is it hard being in an Alpha-Alpha pair?”

“I don’t think so, but it’s definitely a choice we make to make it work.”

“Sorry, that was a very personal question.”

“I don’t mind, I’d imagine things are pretty traditional here.” You nod, “Can I ask you a personal question?”

“Sure.”

“Why aren’t you mated?”

“I’ve dated but after the shit with Grant I think I’m just scared. All the Alphas around here want an Omega and they think I’m a Beta so they don’t really look my way.”

“Are you just waiting for an Alpha?”

“No, if I met the right Beta that would be fine too.”

“Which of us smells best?”

“Nope,” you tell him with a laugh, “I’m not going there.”

“I had to try.” He tells you with a grin of his own.

“All I’ll say is that none of you smell bad. All comforting.”

“Good.” Sam says with a nod and you finish the meal in comfortable conversation. You shoo him out of the kitchen when you’re both done. Insisting that he go to bed so he’s rested for his morning shift. You take another half of a pain pill then start doing the dishes. You finish your last drawing then send everything to your publisher so they can check it over. By the time that’s done it’s nearly ten and Steve should be home soon.

You get off the couch and follow Cooper to the back door. When you open it Coop doesn’t move, just stares out into the darkness.

“In or out Coop.” You tell him and he ambles out into the yard. You close the door and head back to the kitchen to grab a bowl of Gumbo to start heating for Steve. You go back to the back door and when you open it you find Cooper isn’t alone in the backyard.

“Hi Omega.”

“What.” You gasp as Brock moves closer to your house. “Cooper!”

“I think he got out.”

“What? Cooper!” You call shutting the door in Brock’s face you lock it and hurry into the living room. The front door opens and Steve comes in, Cooper trailing behind him. “Oh, oh thank god. Oh Steve thank you.”

“He was hanging out in the front. How did he get out?”

“I don’t know.” Steve tenses, “Brock is out back. He apparently knows I’m an Omega.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean to interrupt.” He goes to go past you and upstairs when you catch his wrist with your right hand.

“No! Please make him go away. I don’t know how he found out I was an Omega but he did. I don’t want him here Steve.”

“You want him gone?”

“Please Alpha.” You whisper and Steve nods before going to the back of the house.

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