#it was a few hundred every few days and weeks with promises of repaying the following week | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nukacoola · 3 years

Text

Companions React to Sole Visiting Their Dead Spouse Part 1/2

Ada:

Today Sole had informed Ada that they wanted to visit the vault they had come from. Ada had heard a bit about vaults from Jackson but she had yet to visit one herself. When they began to descend on the elevator that led to the vault, Ada noticed Sole’s mood start to shift. She recognized the emotion in Sole’s face to be sadness, greif. Ada knew of this emotion from what she had experienced with Jackson and her fellow robot’s deaths. She began to suspect that Sole was visiting the death site of someone who she was close to. They continued to walk

through the vault until they arrived at the entrance of a short hall. The hall seemed to house a number of large machines. Ada’s internal thermometer told her that it was quite cold so she assumed the machines were the source of the unusual temperature. Sole’s mood seemed to worsen as they led Ada down the hall. Ada noticed as they walked that frozen human corpses were held in each of the pod-like machines. When they stopped before one of the pods towards the end of the hall it became clear to Ada that Sole had a relationship with the deceased human they had stopped at. Sole looked up at the deceased human and their eyes began to water. Ada remembered back to her own experiences with death and grief. She felt she had to help Sole as Sole had helped her.

“I understand how you feel, Ma’am/Sir. If there is anything I can do to aid you please let me know.” Sole smiled sadly and turned slightly.

“Thank you, Ada. I appreciate you being here for me.” Sole then turned back to face the dead human. They shed a few tears before they approached a control panel that presumably controlled the machine the dead human was in. They pulled a lever and the Ada heard a hiss of the pod depressurising. The door to the pod slowly opened as Sole approached the human. They seemed to be taking a ring off of the hand of the human. They held the cold metal to their lips and whispered something Ada could not hear before slipping the ring in their pocket.

“Alright, we can go now.” They addressed Ada as they moved to close the door of the pod. “Thank you.” They repeated.

“You are welcome, Ma’am/Sir.” Ada responded. Ada and Sole then left the vault together. Ada knew that there was no way she could repay Sole for how they helped her, but she would still continue to try.

Cait:

“Why do we have ta go to this stupid ice box again?” Cait complained, rubbing her bare arms.

“It’s not my fault you refused to wear a coat.” Sole joked but Cait noticed their voice had a twinge of sadness in it. Cait had been confused when Sole asked her to come to Vault 111 with them. They’d been traveling together for ages and Sole didn’t really ask Cait if she wanted to go places, they just went. The location of today was weird as well. Usually they had a purpose for the places they went. Some lazy settlers couldn’t get off their arse’s to fight off a few ghouls or they were gettin’ a handful a’ caps to go fight a bunch a’ muties. Today’s trip to Vault 111 was weird and out of the blue. Cait didn’t like it but it seemed important to Sole so she agreed. Together they walked further into the vault and the further they walked the colder it got. They eventually reached a wide hall full of weird human sized containers. Cait noticed the ice that slicked the floor and the frost that stuck to the windows of the weird containers as they passed the first one she peered in the window. The dead body of a frozen woman in a vault suit was inside. She had seen a fair amount of bad shit in her day and this whole vault definitely made the cut. Sole had stopped in front of an ice coffin close to the end of the hall when Cait realized. Sole had told her about their dead spouse a while back and they’d also mentioned how they’re from a vault. This was that vault. That body they were now cryin’ in front of was their spouse. Seeing Sole like that did not feel good. Not good at all. She needed to reassure them, she hated it when they were upset.

“I know this must be difficult for you.” She stepped forwards, “I… I’m here if you need to talk.” Sole turned to her and smiled. They reached out their hand to take Cait’s.

“Thank you, Cait. You’re a great friend.” They squeezed Cait’s hand. Cait squeezed back and watched Sole as hot tears continued to roll down their cheeks. She hoped that one day they could be more than friends. Maybe then Cait could wipe those tears away an’ kiss away the burns of grief they had left behind. For now, though, this is all she needed.

Codsworth:

It had been a hard week for Sole and Codsworth. The initial reunion of the two had been nothing but joyful. The family had been reunited against all odds! But of course it wasn’t the whole family. The absence of Sole’s better half and young Shaun left a gaping hole in both Sole’s real and Codsworth’s metaphorical hearts. The shock of their partner’s murder and Shaun’s kidnapping had worn off for Sole and in it’s wake, it left them cripplingly depressed. The past three days Sole had barely been able to get out of bed. They just listened to their partner’s holotape on repeat while cradling young Shaun’s favorite rattle in their arms’. Codsworth had been doing his best to care for them, bringing them food and water and making sure to check up on them every hour or so, but he was becoming worried. He was just preparing lunch for Sole when he was surprised by their figure standing at the entrance to the kitchen. Codsworth greeted them excitedly. Sole awkwardly hugged his large metal body and thanked him for all the meals he had prepared and all the patience he had shown. They explained how when they had left the vault, they were in such shock that they never got to say a real goodbye to their partner. Codsworth listened patiently and happily agreed when they asked him to accompany them back to the vault to say a real goodbye.

They entered the cold concrete bunker which Codsworth had previously waited and hoped to see stir for over 210 years. Sole led him through the halls and the two eventually arrived at some machinery which Sole identified as the cryogenic freezing pods. They approached the end of the hall and Sole moved to one of the many control panels next two one of the many pods. After puzzling over the panel they tried pulling a red lever. The large door of the cryo pod hissed as it slowly opened to reveal their spouse. Standing next to Codsworth in front of their partner, they grabbed and held the grasper fixed on one of his three arms. Even with one his beloved family members standing dead right before him, Codsworth still couldn’t believe it.

“Oh dear, is that…” he trailed off, “Mum/Sir, I’m… I’m so sorry.” Codsworth tried to keep his heartbroken voice steady as Sole began to softly sob next to him. He wished more than anything he could hug them, but since he could not, this almost hand holding would have to do. They stood there, mourning together for about two hours before Sole was ready to go. They were still very torn up. But it seemed as if a large weight had been lifted from their chest. Before they closed their partner’s pod, Sole went up to them and removed their wedding ring.

“I’ll find who did this, and I’ll get Shaun back. I promise” they said to their spouse.

“Indeed Mum/Sir. We’ll stop at nothing to get young Shaun back!” Sole smiled at Codsworth and together the two set off to find Sole’s baby.

Curie:

After everything Sole had done to help Curie, there wasn’t even a second thought on whether or not she would go with them to the vault they had come from. She would help Sole with anything, no matter what. When she had first booted up in vault 81 she was very excited to dedicate herself to the scientific endeavors of Vault-Tec. When her fellow scientist informed her of how they would be growing hundreds of pathogens in mole rats and testing these pathogens on unsuspecting humans, she felt bad. As bad as a Ms.Nanny model robot could at least. She eventually grew attached to the mole rats they were infecting. She was especially fond of sweet little Clyde. When one day Clyde escaped his cage, Curie did not have time to warn the scientists she had worked with. Despite her friend’s deaths, Curie took solace in the fact that the morally gray work of Vault-Tec’s could not continue. Despite the conductors of the experiment's deaths, Curie continued her work. 200 years later, she had been finished with the cure for a long while. She was pretty much stuck in this small area of the vault waiting to be told she could leave. Thankfully, Sole came along and her prayers were answered! They released her and told her about a young boy who was infected. She was able to help the one human who had the misfortune of being infected by the molerat disease with her life’s work, the cure. After that, Sole had welcomed Curie to continue her scientific studies alongside them. When Sole eventually helped Curie become alive, however, was when Curie truly understood how much she loved Sole. She would go to the ends of the earth for them so accompanying them to a vault was, as Sole might say, no big deal.

On the walk to the vault Sole told an inquisitive Curie about the experiment 111 had performed. They also told Curie how losing their spouse and child happened while they were still trapped in their cryogenic pod. They told Curie that they were visiting the body of their deceased spouse. It wasn’t too long of a walk before they reached the familiar facility. Sole led Curie through the cool halls of the vault and down a short hall to their spouse’s body. They took a deep breath and stepped up to the control panel adjacent to the cryo pod. After fiddling with the controls the pod appeared to depressurize and open. Curie’s heart ached for Sole. She knew how loss felt and of all the human emotions she was now able to feel, she liked that one the least.

Sole began to cry at seeing their deceased partner again. Curie had an urge to cry too. It was such an awful feeling. As much as she wanted to though, she knew she couldn’t give in to it. She had to stay strong for her dearest friend who must be struggling a lot more than she is right now. She stepped closer to her partner and gently laid a hand on their upper back.

“I wish I knew how to make zis better. It iz not a phyzical injury that I can heal.” Curie was silent for a moment, thinking of what to say next, “However I know it still hurts terribly. I am here for you always.” Sole slumped and began to cry harder which made Curie very worried. Maybe she had said the wrong thing! Did she make it worse? But right when she was going to apologize and excuse herself Sole turned around and hugged her tightly. She hugged back and allowed Sole to cry on her shoulder.

“Thank you Curie, you’re the best.” They sniffled out. Curie smiled as a few stray tears fell down her face. She was so glad she was able to help her friend as they have helped her so many times before.

Danse:

Danse hadn’t known what to expect when his fellow soldier had requested they make a stop at Vault 111 during their recon mission to the far reaches of the commonwealth. He of course knew that Sole was from this vault. They had told him so upon their first meeting. He remembered being surprised that Sole had admitted to being a Vault Dweller, though he now understood they probably had no idea of the stigma surrounding Vault Dwellers as they had only been above ground for a short time. Nonetheless, when he granted permission for his subordinate to lead him to the vault he assumed they wanted to go back for something they had not taken when they had first left. He never suspected to walk into a graveyard of frozen corpses. Of course he knew the basics of what had occurred here. Sole had told him a bit about their spouse and the cruel experiment unknowingly performed on them both. Even knowing this, experiencing the criminal loss of life Vault-Tec had caused first hand was rather sickening. He could only imagine what Sole was going through.

Danse soon found that he did not have to imagine. Sole had led him down an isle of frozen bodies before stopping in front one. He noticed their hands were shaking as they reached for the control panel standing next to the pod they had stopped at. They pulled a red lever and the contraption hissed as the door began to open. Danse could see a frozen body held within the metal pod. Sole’s whole body was shaking now. From his place off to the side of them he could see tears rolling down their cheeks. This must be their spouse. Danse was at a loss. He wanted to help them but he knew there was no way he could do anything that would get them over such an incredible loss. Even so, he needed to do something. His power armor hissed as it depressurized. He stepped out of it and approached Sole.

“Take as long as you need, Soldier.” He placed a hand on their shoulder briefly before turning away to give them space. As he began to leave, Sole grabbed his hand. He turned to them, surprised. He only got to see the tears streaming down Sole’s red, blotchy cheeks for a moment before they roughly pulled him towards them for a hug. Shocked, he stiffened. It was only when they started to softly sob into his chest that he refocused and hugged them back. They stayed that way for a long time. Danse couldn’t help but think back to Scribe Haylen. The situation was nearly the same and yet he didn’t have the same ache in his chest when he had held the scribe. Eventually Sole’s sobs turned to sniffles and sniffles to silence. Their hold on him loosed and Danse took this as his queue to release them. Their face was still puffy and red but as he looked down at them while they smiled up at him he couldn’t help but think how beautiful they looked.

“Thank you.” They breathed. Danse simply nodded. Sole turned away from him to right themselves and he used this opportunity to get back into his power armor. Sole closed up the cryogenics pod and they left the vault without another word shared. Danse hoped he had helped them. Even if it was only in a small way.

Deacon:

When Sole asked Deacon to accompany them on a visit to Vault 111, he of course accepted. This is not to say that he was excited. Far from it. He would never admit it to them, but he had done a lot of research on Vault 111 far before he had met Sole. He had taken a particular interest in this vault after hearing a rumor of Institute activity near it. After trying and failing to get into it, he went to Vault-Tec headquarters in hopes of finding some more info on this particular experiment. He had been able to guess the vault had some type of human-cryogenic-preservation thing going on due to terminals he’d read there and books he’d read elsewhere. After Sole had left the vault, the interior door was open and Deacon was able to explore further. One cryo pod being open while the rest were full of corpses painted a pretty clear picture. The internal terminals allowed Deacon to discover that there was once an infant “housed” there. The infant belonged to the vaultie he saw leave and the only corpse who’s cause of death was a bullet to the head. It was pretty clear to him what had happened. What he didn’t know was what the Institute needed with an infant.

Due to his research, Deacon obviously knew exactly what happened in that Vault. He also knew how much it had taken from Sole specifically and he had a pretty good idea of why they wanted to go back. His suspicions were confirmed when they led him down a familiar hall of cryo pods. They stopped close to the end of the short hallway to stand in front of the dead person Deacon had first seen almost a year ago. He looked to Sole, they were staring at the body and shivering. He couldn’t tell if it was from the cold or the murder. He settled on both. He tried not to remember just how much he understood their pain, but of course he couldn’t forget. His chest tightened as he saw tears beginning to leak from their eyes. They shakily reached for the control panel next to the coffin and pulled the red lever to open it. Their face began to contort into an expression Deacon knew very well. Their tears were flowing freely now and he felt he had to do something, anything to try to help them. He approached them and placed a hand on their shoulder, effectively wrapping his arm around them. They stood there for about a minute, Sole sniffling from time to time, before Sole turned into him and wrapped their arms around him. Deacon didn’t think about how it could be dangerous when he hugged them back, he just did. He held Sole in that cold, empty room for a long time. Even after Sole had stopped crying, they stood there.

“Thanks Dee.” Sole whispered before finally letting go of Deacon. They looked up at him, smiling and though he didn’t know why he felt his stomach flip, he provided a small smile back. Sole closed the pod and together the pair left Vault 111, hopefully, for the last time.

Dogmeat:

When Dogmeat woke up that morning it was just another day with his wonderful friend. Throughout the day however, Dogmeat began to worry. He felt his friend start to become sad. This made him sad too. He loved his friend! He wanted his friend to be happy! He stuck close to their side especially when they entered a very cold big place which seemed to make his friend even more sad. He and his friend walked further into the cold place until they decided to stop. His friend sat down on the cold floor so Dogmeat did too. He saw that his friend had begun to cry. He whimpered and rested his head in his friend’s lap. For a while they sat, Dogmeat’s friend slowly stroking Dogmeat’s fur and eventually, they stopped crying. Dogmeat sat up and blinked at his friend. His friend gave him a sad smile, he gave them a big slobbery kiss. His friend laughed and so he gave them another kiss. His friend kissed his forehead before standing. Together, they walked out of the cold place. Dogmeat was happy, and he felt his friend was too.

Gage: Gage was never into the touchy feely stuff but he had to admit he had a soft spot for the Overboss. They’re badass as hell and take no shit but they also knew how to be compassionate when they needed to be. It was something Gage had never been able to do well and something he respected in his boss. There was something off about them the day they asked Gage to accompany them to Vault 111 in the Commonwealth. They seemed more timid, like they were worried about his response. He’d already told them he’d follow them to the ends of the earth and he meant it so of course he said yes. The trip was long and the boss seemed to get quieter and more down the closer they got to the vault. This was worrying to Gage. Like he said, he wasn’t good at the touchy feely stuff. He wasn’t gonna know how to deal with it if the Boss needed someone to comfort them from whatever was making them sad.

They finally reached the vault and Sole instructed him to stand on the gear shaped platform while they ran over to a small building nearby. After about 30 seconds lights around the platform started to flash. There was the sound of a blaring alarm paired with a rumbling of the ground beneath him. He was about to get the hell off of the thing but Sole ran over to wait on the platform next to him. If it was safe in Sole’s eyes, Gage supposed he would trust it. After a few seconds the platform started to lower with a loud screech of metal on metal. Despite the bad feeling that was growing exponentially inside of him he followed the Overboss’ example. When the vault elevator brought them down to solid ground again, Sole led the way through a cold metal complex to a bunch of weird machinery that really just looked like a bunch of fancy coffins. Looking through the small glass windows on the weird pods proved that that’s exactly what they were. Sole’s footsteps were heavy and slow as they led Gage down the icey corridor. There was something very personal about this place to them. He would soon find out what it was as they stopped in front of on of the coffins. Sole fidgeted with their hands for a moment before they reached to the control panel next to the pod and opened it. There was a hiss of depressurization when the door opened to reveal a body. Someone they’d obviously known and been close to. The Boss’ posture slumped and they started… crying. They were crying… Dammit, Gage had no idea how to deal with this. He had to do something to let them know he cared though, because he did. He stepped closer to Sole reaching his hand out to them before recoiling it. Oh god. Alright just say something, anything.

“Hey, uh, Boss, I just want you to know- well I get it. And I’m real sorry.” They huffed a laugh through tears. Fuck did he do it wrong?? But before he could worry too much they turned to him with a sad smile.

“Thank you Gage, really, thank you.” He nodded stiffly, not knowing how else to react. They stood there in silence for a while before Sole closed the pod and stepped back, wiping their tears away. Gage looked away put of respect until they cleared their throat. “Ready to get out of this shithole?” They smiled at him.

“Hell yeah, you lead the way, Boss.” -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

So I saw a video of the Companion’s comments upon bringing them back to Vault 111 and opening your spouses pod and I wanted to write a little thing. :) The bold sentences are real in game dialogue but not every character has some. This is part 1 of 2 so if your favorite isn’t in this one don’t worry.

123 notes · View notes

hermannsthumb · 3 years

Note

nsfw prompt: hermann in lacy boxers. newt is verrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrry into it

Anonymous said: Follow up to the hermann's lacy briefs ask: newt wears tacky neon briefs and Hermann is Just As Into It

loosely inspired by a conversation I had with @k-sci-janitor the other night 👀 second part isn't AS incorporated, but, I did try. not sfw below cut! (but it's more of an M)

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

“Well, shit,” Newt says.

As far as lab accidents go, it’s not as bad as it could be. Neither of them are bleeding, for one thing. All their limbs are still intact. And only a very small portion of the lab is on fire, not even anywhere near Hermann’s shit, and Newt manages to deal with it before it spreads by deploying the emergency fire extinguisher in record time. True, their clothing is splattered with a very mild (non-lethal!) amount of kaiju blood, and true, it does sizzle worryingly at first (kaiju blood will apparently eat through cotton like nothing), but Newt’s grown very adept with dealing with these sorts of things. (He kind of has to—they happen every other day.) “In ya go,” he says to a stunned Hermann cheerfully, tugging him along to the decontamination shower by his elbow. “Don’t be shy.”

It takes Hermann a few seconds of pleasant silence to get over his initial shock, and then he begins bitching. “This is the final straw!” he declares, along with stuff like “I can’t take your incompetence much longer!” and “I will be submitting several complaints to the Marshal about this!”, and even smacks Newt’s ankles with his cane a few times. Once he realizes that there’s now a neat little hole burned into the front of his sweater, though, and an even larger one spreading by the shoulder, his complaints fade away into weak sputters, and he doesn’t make as much as a peep when Newt shoves him under the freezing spray.

“Sorry, dude,” Newt says. “How was I supposed to know kaiju blood was combustible?”

Hermann growls at Newt.

As per lab containment protocol, once the shower is turned on, the lock is engaged, and they’ll only be allowed to exit once they’re deemed sufficiently toxin-free by the...toxin-censors, or something. Newt's still not really sure how it all works. That, or, you know, if one of them punches in the override code. But that kind of takes a while, and Newt kind of did need a shower anyway, so he decides to just roll with it and let himself be sanitized. Better safe than sorry. Even though he’s pretty sure that blood was neutralized. Probably. It is a little worrisome that it was dissolving the fabric that fast, since Newt hasn’t had that happen to him before. “Okay, warning,” Newt says, “I’m gonna take off my clothes. You might want to, too. I’m not sure why that had the reaction it did but we probbbbably don’t want to get it on our skin.”

“No,” Hermann says.

“Tough luck, I’m gonna get naked,” Newt says. “It’s happening. You need to, too.”

“Absolutely not,” Hermann says.

“Safety protocol!” Newt shouts.

It’s hard enough to shimmy out of his skinny jeans bone-dry, but in the shower it may as well be impossible, especially since he forgot to take off his boots first. Also, it’s hard to move even a foot without bumping his ass against Hermann, and Hermann growls (like, seriously, what?) again each time he does. Newt finally succeeds in stripping down to just his undershirt and neon-green boxers, and since a quick once-over confirms his skin seems to be totally burn-free, and he can't feel any sort of excruciating pain that would suggest otherwise, he decides he’s fine to just stop there. No reason to needlessly flash Hermann his junk. When Newt turns around, he’s almost surprised to see Hermann in the exact same position as before: clutching the shower railing for dear life, his eyes fixed directly at the ceiling.

Oh—Newt’s dumb. Hermann left his cane outside. A wet shower is already potentially treacherous, but a wet shower without anything but a crappy railing to properly stabilize himself definitely is. “Okay, look, don’t take this the wrong way,” Newt says, “but can I help you undress? I just mean—it’ll probably be hard for you to do it like that.”

He points to Hermann’s iron grip on the railing. Hermann shakes his head.

“I would rather you not,” he says. He looks down at Newt's briefs, goes red in the face, and looks back up.

“Hermann, seriously.” Newt steps forward with a sigh and tugs on Hermann’s blazer. “It’s a safety thing. I promise I won’t look at your old man bloomers or long johns or whatever, you just seriously need to take this all off so I can make sure you’re not hurt.”

“Stop it, Newton,” Hermann grumbles, and then, when Newt gets the top few buttons undone, full-on snaps “Newton!” and pushes Newt away. "Get off of me."

Newt is not dealing with this shit right now. It's one thing for Hermann to be pissed at him when they have a whole lab between them and plenty of space to cool off, but crammed in to a tiny shower together where he's within arm's distance of a grumpy Hermann, who would probably joyfully throttle him at any moment, is just not how Newt wants to spend the next twenty or so minutes. Especially not when all he wanted to do was make sure Hermann wasn't getting literal acidic burns. It's a completely un-cool way to repay a kindness. “Fine!” he says, and throws up his hands. “Whatever! I don’t care. You always have to make everything weird."

Hermann glowers at him, which looks pretty silly, because it's hard to take him seriously with his hair plastered to his head like that. Then, (to Newt's surprise) he reaches a trembling hand up to his top button. “I will do it myself,” he says. “But please look away. I need—privacy.”

"Privacy," Newt echoes with a snort, but obliges. Anything to get Hermann to cooperate is a-okay with him. Once he's got his back to Hermann, he hears Hermann's clothing hitting the ground with a series of small wet splats against the tile. Blazer, sweater, button-down, pants. His belt jingles when it drops. Despite the chill of the water, Newt feels the back of his neck grow warm. Hermann is practically naked behind him. Newt doesn't think he's seen Hermann any nakeder than his pajamas before, once when they dragged themselves to LOCCENT at three in the morning for a kaiju alert system test run and he got an eyeful of Hermann in a dressing gown and slippers. Even that was almost too much for Newt. "Any burns?" he says over his shoulder.

"Er," Hermann says. "I think—"

"Well?"

Hermann is silent. "I'm not quite sure," he finally says.

Newt sighs. "Okay, just let me—"

Newt's scientist mode kicks in over his holy shit Hermann is semi-naked next to me mode (and, okay, maybe his protective over Hermann mode kicks in just a little too), and he turns to Hermann unthinkingly to assess any possible damage. And then freezes in place. Because, well. He's not sure what he expected—maybe Hermann scowling and shivering in some dorky little striped boxers and an undershirt, or maybe that he layers up on undergarments just like he does sweaters.

He is absolutely, one-hundred percent not expecting to see Hermann in a lacy blue pair of underwear and a matching bralette.

And, well. At least the water is cold. Newt doesn't like to think about what sort of physiological response his body might have otherwise.

As it is, Newt just sort of stares at Hermann. And his sexy underwear. Or maybe he gapes. He definitely does when he realizes that it's not just plain sexy underwear—both pieces have little gold stars embroidered across them—and it's simultaneously so cute and so much sexier that his knees begin to wobble, and he's worried he might pass out. Hermann stares back, chin raised almost defiantly, his jaw set hard. Neither of them speak.

Then Newt clears his throat and makes an attempt at it, because he's not sure what else to do if not play it cool. "Um," he squeaks. "Um. I don't—I don't see any burns." Newt does not look anywhere else on Hermann's body, so there's a good chance that's a lie. It's kind of hard to pull his eyes away. "Are you—do you—" He takes a deep breath. "Do you always...?"

"No," Hermann says. He works his jaw back and forth. "Well, go on, then."

"Go on what?" Newt says. Is Hermann sensing the (frankly) pornographic thoughts racing through Newt's head at a mile a minute and giving him permission to act on them? Because Newt doesn't have a problem with that. He 100% does not have a problem with dropping to his knees and begging Hermann to let him put his tongue on him through the lace, or groping Hermann's chest through the top...

"Tease me," Hermann says. In a sexy way? Newt wonders, because he can do that, and he's all set to start grabbing Hermann's ass or something when Hermann clarifies "I know you want to tell me how silly I look."

Oh. That's dumb. "Why would I do that?" Newt says. Before he can help himself, he blurts out, "Dude, you look fucking hot."

"What?" Hermann says.

The shower shuts off, and an alarm beeps twice as the door swings open. The emergency protocol seems to have ended. Neither Newt nor Hermann make a move to leave. "What?" Hermann repeats again, a little quieter. He's looking at Newt like he's grown a second head.

"It looks," Newt says, "um, hot. I like—" He feels himself blushing furiously. He's not sure where to stare—still at Hermann? Or does he force himself to turn his gaze to the floor or over Hermann's shoulder or something? He can see one of Hermann's nipples through the lace top. Oh, my God. "I like how it looks on you." (Insane understatement.)

Hermann falls silent again. "You do?" he says.

"Yeah," Newt says. "Do you—like, every day? Or?"

Hermann shakes his head. He's watching Newt with a carefully guarded expression, like he's still skeptical that Newt is telling the truth and isn't about to just start laughing at him or something. "Not at all," he says. "Er. This was rather unfortunate timing. It's—well, it's a way to feel more confident, I suppose, when I've had a rotten week."

Newt doesn't start laughing, of course. Newt inches closer. He likes the contrast of the dark blue against Hermann's skin, and he wonders how soft it is. He wonders if it would feel soft to him, too, if he touched it, or dragged his palms up and down Hermann's chest. He wonders if Hermann would like that. "I often," Hermann says, and then his voice trails off.

"Huh?" Newt says, somewhere to the vicinity of Hermann's belly button.

Hermann clears his throat. "I often think of you. What you would do, if you saw me this way, and..."

Newt finally snaps. "Can I touch you?" he says.

Hermann nods, the smallest, shyest little smile on his face. "If you'd like," he says.

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag #im not totally crazy about this one but it was giving me grief #so im just posting it so I don't have to look at it anymore #not sfw /////////

60 notes · View notes

thekryptonianandthecitygirl · 3 years

Note

Clark on the things he loves/notices about Lois

As he gently puts her down, she squeezes his arms in gratitude and smiles, shouting her thanks over the loud noise of the helicopter.

It’s a nice smile, he thinks.

Clark smiles back.

____________________________________________

She’s bold. Brave, determined - oh, so very determined.

He’d suspected that since the very first moment, when the lieutenant congratulated her over her pieces about the First Division, and she’d chuckled, claiming that she got writer’s block if she wasn’t wearing a flak jacket. Clark had made a mental note to check out her articles.

And then, it’s just - one thing after another. The way she stands up to the general in that tent, setting things up straight as she calls him out on his dick measuring competition. The insolent smile and snarky comment she left him with, when he hoped to faze her with poor sleeping arrangements.

The way she wanders alone in the freezing cold, follows a stranger, and gets out her camera as she comes face to face with an alien machine.

When he gathers her in his arms that night, carefully carrying her out for her to be found as soon as the ship leaves, Clark can’t help but linger a little on her face. Sleeping, slightly whiten with the pain, she almost looks fragile.

The last few hours alone are enough for him to know how much looks can be deceiving.

Adjusting her coat around her, Clark gets up and slowly backs away towards his ship, and thinks that he’s probably never encountered someone so driven, something a little like awe building up in his stomach.

____________________________________________

She…accepts him.

When he tells her his story, the story of how he let his own father die simply not to be discovered, the story he’s most ashen of, Clark expects her disgust. A flinch, a few babbling and awkward words - at the very least, a look in her clear eyes that tells him just how terrible a person he is.

Instead, all he finds is compassion. Understanding, somehow.

She doesn’t publish anything.

In fact, she protects him, refusing to unveil any information about him when he knows the military must have tried to be pretty persuasive. But Lois doesn’t say a word.

Instead, she teases him about his costume, a smirk on her lips and a glimmer in her eyes in that interrogation room as if they weren’t being watched by angry-looking US soldiers. As if a Kryptonian one isn’t on his way to them, about to change the world forever.

He thinks he’s halfway in love with her already, and then she reaches out to him and holds his hand as they stand in the middle of the desert. For a brief moment, he feels the crushing weight of the loneliness he’s been bearing lighten a little. His chest tightens.

Clark wishes he could tell her again how much her kindness means to him. A kindness he’s rarely, so rarely felt before. One he could never repay.

The words don’t come, though, and so he simply squeezes back, hoping she understands.

____________________________________________

After it’s all over, after he’s snapped the life out of the only one of his people left, after he’s fallen on his knees, she’s here.

She holds him close, a reassuring hand on his shoulder protecting him from the world, from himself. Her fingers thread in his hair as she whispers that it’s okay, that he’s saved them all. That it wasn’t his fault, and that she’s here.

He holds on to her as if she’s the only thing keeping him grounded, keeping him safe. In that moment, she is.

He’s not really sure how long they stay here, or how she gets him to stand. She does, though, and, thanks to her, he manages to get enough of a grip of himself to start helping with the rescue of the people that have survived.

(Before he goes, she squeezes his hand and kisses his cheek, whispering to him that she’ll be here when he’s done. Her eyes, soft, her voice, confident despite the chaos that’s surrounding her. Her own city, turned to ashes.)

He doesn’t see her for weeks, after that. Three, to be exact.

He’s counted every day.

He rescues as many as he can, helps with clearing out the ruins, follows the instructions to begin the reconstruction. Metropolis, Smallville, the whole Pacific area. There’s so much to do.

He only stops to check on his mother and repair the house, or when he starts to feel his strength leave him despite having recharged. The first time it happens, he’s been at it for a little over 48 hours straight.

He’s a little afraid to show up at her doorstep after so long, but he does anyway. When she spots him waiting from her elevator and throws herself into his arms, her grocery bag falling heavily on the ground in her haste, Clark feels like he can properly breathe for the first time in days.

In the weeks that follow, she helps him. Clark wonders if she’ll ever stop doing that, and finds himself selfishly hoping that she never does. She helps him help them, in a reconstruction effort that feels more and more possible each day. She forces him to rest and eat and sleep, hands on her hips and what he soon begins to recognize as a ‘this is not up for discussion’ face. She paces back and forth in her small living room as they try to find out what job could fit him, beams when they do. She helps him for days and days until he has a convincing application to send to Perry.

When he gets hired at the Daily Planet, she whispers to him how proud she is, and Clark feels like his heart might burst out of his chest.

She does all that, makes it all possible, and next to that, she does everything else.

Her articles on the attack, and then on the reconstruction, break records in online reading. She helps her neighbours, goes out to stay with Jenny one night when the young intern relives the whole thing all over again. She volunteers.

Clark can see it in her eyes, though. The shadow there sometimes, when they fall on unattended ruins, or pass by that café she used to like, and is now nothing more than dust. How she tears up sometimes, whenever they broadcast images of the invasion. The nightmares.

(He holds her, keeping her close at night. Listening to her quiet confessions as they lay in her bed. He wishes he could do more.)

But, despite all of that, she keeps going - always. Keeps him going, never complaining, her resolve never wavering.

She’s strong, a force of nature, and Clark wonders what he possibly did to deserve her.

____________________________________________

When he first tells her that her heartbeat is the sound he now focuses on to drown out the world’s noise and stay sane, he hears it skip a beat.

Seconds pass, and she’s still not saying anything - she simply stares at him, mouth a little agap. They’re in her bed, him sitting against the headboard and her straddling him, and the soft hands that were cupping his face have now fallen to his neck.

He’s terrified.

He should have known better, of course. Six months isn’t that long, and knowing that an alien that you’ve known for such a short time is monitoring you like this is probably something no one wants to hear. Her heartbeat is skyrocketing now, just like his own, and he hates himself for scaring her like that. For letting himself get carried away, when he knows that’s something he can never afford.

He’s about to tell her, to apologize and promises he’ll stop, that he’ll even leave right now to give her some space, but then she kisses him, soft and tender as her fingers thread in his hair.

When he opens his eyes, she’s already looking at him.

“I love you,” she says. In his chest, he feels like his heart explodes.

____________________________________________

He’s in love with Lois Lane.

And he likes her smile, likes her drive and kindness. Her strength.

But then, there’s hundreds of other things, too. Things that make her Lois, and that make him fall a little deeper for her every day. How he can love her more and more than he already does, he has no idea.

It’s those eyes, clear and deep and piercing, just like her. How she says his name. The beauty mark on her hip, the freckles on her skin. The way she always falls asleep drooling on him during movie night, but will never admit to it. The small, happy sigh she makes when he comes back after a night of being Superman, and curls his body around hers.

There’s the way she always fights against injustice, whether it is standing up against racial discrimination one day where they’re shopping, or publishing a two-part story to take down a corrupted politician.The glimmer in her eye when she’s got a new lead, and the unapologetic pride when her article turns into a success. The smile full of that same pride when he comes home after having saved the day once again.

It’s everything, he realizes. He loves everything about her.

When she offers that they move in together, there’s something close to worry on her face as she waits for him to speak. If only she knew.

Chuckling, Clark leans down and kisses her, whispering his answer against her lips.

#clark x lois #clois #lois lane #clark kent #man of steel #fics #this has been sitting in my computer for years #so sorry for the delay #i'm back writing these two and i have writer's block on my Justice League follow up #so feel free to send asks #clois fics

45 notes · View notes

kaalamarii · 4 years

Text

XOXO (MammonxMC)

This was written for @lumiere-morningstar 💛

Summary: From the chat where Mammon gets a letter he thinks is from MC. MC writes him a letter everyday and Mammon puts them aside, thinking they’re just from Lucifer.

Warnings: Sad Mammon, fluff

Masterlist

“Here,” MC said, standing in front of Mammon. He was sprawled out on the couch in the common room scrolling through his D.D.D. He looked up, cocking an eyebrow at the pretty girl before him.

She tossed the envelope in her hand down to him and it landed in his lap.

“What’s this?” Mammon asked, turning the envelope over in his hands.

“Just...read it in your room, okay? Not out here.”

Mammon felt his heart flutter as MC walked off, leaving him there to hold the envelope in his hand.

A sealed envelope from MC...that he was to read in his room? Mammon couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face. A love letter...MC just gave HIM a love letter!

Mammon’s heart was beating, his hands shaking as he gripped the letter, speed walking to his bedroom and shutting the door behind him. He leaned against the door, holding the letter to his chest.

An actual love letter. From MC.

Finally, it was confirmed. MC felt the same for him as he felt for her. I need to get her a present, Mammon thought. Something nice. Something expensive.

But first, he had to brag.

(Mammon:) Ahem.

Oh boy, he couldn’t wait till his stupid brothers heard about this.

(Mammon:) AHEM!

(Mammon:) HEY! Someone say somethin’!

(Belphie:) No way. I get the feeling it’s going to be something annoying.

(Levi:) Yeah, tell me about it.

Mammon scoffed. Rude. Every last one of ‘em.

(Mammon:) A-H-E-M!

(Satan:)Okay, fine. I don’t care what it is, so just say it already.

(Asmo:) It sounds like he wants to brag about something.

Mammon smiled proudly, sending the ‘Yes!’ sticker.

(Mammon:) Listen up and be amazed! I, The Great Mammon, have received a love letter from MC!

(Belphie:) Huh?

(Levi:) He must be hallucinating again.

(Mammon:) I’m not hallucinatin’! It’s a letter inside a pretty lil envelope? What else could it be besides a love letter?

(Beel:) you mean you haven’t opened it yet?

(Mammon:) Well, it’s kinda sealed shut. Besides, can’t a guy savor the moment a bit before he opens it?

(Belphie:) Wow, I never pegged you as the type.

(Mammon:) Hey! Whaddya mean by that?

I’ll have ya know I’m quite the gentleman! Besides, MC told me to read the letter by myself in my room ❤

And that’s exactly what I plan on doin’.

(Satan:) Well open it up then, “Mr. Gentleman”

(Levi:) Yeah, I don’t think you will be savoring the moment for long after you take a look at what’s inside.

(Mammon:) Ugh, fine! Gimme a moment.

Mammon took a deep breath, shakily and carefully opening the envelope. This was it. He’d finally know for sure that she returned his feelings. Then, she’d be his, and only his. It was like a dream come true, he’d be able to hold her, kiss her, and go on dates with her.

He pulled the letter out and unfolded it.

The demon’s face fell, and he sank to the floor, holding the letter in one hand and the envelope in the other.

(Belphie:) Mammon’s grown awfully silent.

(Lucifer:)That is because the ‘love letter’ is from me. Although I call it an “official written demand of repayment.”

(Levi:)Ha! What a noob, lol.

Mammon felt an aching in his heart and tears started to fall from his eyes, landing on the long list of debts. Every ounce of excitement, of hope, every thought of he and MC being happy and in love, shattered. Mammon balled up the paper and threw it across the room.

He was angry at Lucifer, but he expected something like this from Lucifer. But not MC. MC didn’t make fun of Mammon like his brothers did. She never called him stupid or scum. She even stood up for him most of the time. Mammon couldn’t believe MC was a part of this cruelty. That hurt a hundred times more than anything his brothers could say to him, any torture Lucifer had for him.

Mammon wiped his eyes, getting up to grab his precious Goldie. He stormed out of the house, determined to max out the credit card to get his mind off MC’s betrayal.

“I haven’t seen Mammon in a couple days,” MC stated at breakfast, looking over at the chair next to her where the second born always sat.

“Oh, he ran off to sulk,” Lucifer replied nonchalantly. “I gave him a list of things he needs to pay off.”

“Is that what was in the envelope you had me give to him?”

“Yep.”

Leviathan’s laugh interrupted the conversation. “That moron thought it was actually from MC. As if MC would be interested in a scumbag like Mammon.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” MC shook her head. “You gave me a letter to give to Mammon so he’d think it was from me?”

“Of course. Why else would I have you deliver it?”

“I just thought it was because I’m always with him.”

“Sure,” Satan offered up, “But also if Mammon knew the letter was from Lucifer, he wouldn’t have opened it.”

“Exactly,” said Lucifer, agreeing with Satan for once.

“That’s kinda fucked up, don’t you think?”

“Mammon’s fucked up,” Satan responded.

Asmo sighed. “Seriously MC, I don’t know why you’re so close with Mammon. He acts nice to you, but he’d sell you for a few Grimm.”

MC scoffed. “No, he wouldn’t.”

“Mammon is scum,” Levi spoke up again. “Don’t feel bad for him.”

“Wow,” MC replied, getting up to leave. “You should all really think about how you treat Mammon.”

Heading back to her room, she grabbed a pen and notebook out of her backpack and sat down to write.

Mammon,

I heard you wanted a letter from me.

I’m so sorry that your brothers are dicks to you. I don’t think you’re scum, Mammon. I think you’re sweet and smart and funny, and I love spending time with you.

You’re pretty much my best friend.

Love, MC

P.S. Sorry for giving you that letter from Lucifer. I didn’t know what he was up to, I promise. Xoxo

She sealed in it an envelope and wrote his name with a heart. She snuck to Mammon’s room and set it on his pillow. MC was a bit embarrassed by what she wrote, hoping he wouldn’t find it creepy or weird. She wished that he’d be back soon.

Mammon snuck in late after being gone for a week, body and head exhausted and hungover, he crawled into bed and passed out.

When he woke up, he yawned and stretched before noticing the letter on the bed next to him. He picked it up, scoffed, and tossed it across the room.

There was a new envelope everyday.

Somedays, MC would slip them under his door. Sometimes she’d hand them directly to him. They’d be waiting for him in his room, on his bed again, on his couch. Each time, Mammon would feel a pang in his stomach. He so badly wanted to open them. Maybe one would actually be a letter from her.

But of course it wouldn’t be.

MC would never see him like that. Why would she? Mammon was nothing but a greedy, scummy, piece of shit. His brothers made that clear, and now they had MC joining forces with them.

So the pile of letters grew, a small mountain of various colored envelopes.

When he gets one with a lipstick kiss on the envelope, Mammon loses it. He grabs the pile of discarded envelopes and storms to Lucifer’s office, dumping all of them onto the desk directly on top of whatever Lucifer was working on.

“Mammon, what the f-”

“Ya gotta stop doin’ this to me, Lucifer. Look, I’ll repay everything. I’ll go get a job or something, but please, please, stop getting MC to give me these. I get my hopes up and I know they’re just bills and I can’t anymore. It’s killin’ me.”

Mammon was embarrassed at how emotional he was being, whining and crying to his older brother.

Lucifer stared at the envelopes. “Mammon, these aren’t from me.”

“Whaddya sayin’! Of course they are!”

“No, they’re not.” Lucifer picked up one and ripped it open.

Mammon,

I know you don’t read these which I guess is why I keep writing them. I know that makes no sense. But it helps to write about my feelings for you. It’s a relief to be able to tell you how much I love you, cause I know I can never do it in person.

xoxo,

“Oh...um, Mammon. I think you should read these.”

“You guys are probably just playing tricks on me again.”

Lucifer shoved the letter in Mammon’s face. Mammon wiped his eyes and read over the letter, his heartbeat speeding up.

“This is really her handwriting,” he said in shock.

Lucifer nodded.

“The stupid human really wrote all of these.”

Mammon grinned like mad, gathering all of the letters and rushing back to his room. He threw them onto his bed and sat, cross legged, reading each and every one of them.

A few of them were simple doodles of the two of them and Goldie. Most of them had words of encouragement for him, telling him that she thought he was sweet and a good person (Despite being a literal demon). In every single one was confessions of love and appreciation.

Mammon brought out his D.D.D. and text MC, telling her to come to his room.

MC was thrilled to get a text from Mammon. They hadn’t been spending a lot of time together, and he had barely spoken to her since the day of the first letter. MC slipped on some leggings and an oversized t-shirt and got to Mammon’s room as quickly as she could.

When she saw the opened letters on the bed with him, she grew red. Oh shit.

“Um...you opened the letters.”

Mammon nodded. “Whaddya thinkin’, writing letters like this for me?”

“Mammon, I’m sorry...just f-forget you ever read them.”

“Are you kiddin’ me? You’re the only one who’s ever nice to me, ya know? And now I know how you really feel…”

MC groaned, hiding her face in her hands.

“Of course ya like the Great Mammon! Everyone does. But, uh, iloveyoutooMC.”

“Wait, what?” MC peeked from behind her hand. “Did you just say…”

“Yeah, yeah. Come ‘ere, you!”

Mammon gently grabbed MC’s arm, pulling her to him and pressing his lips to hers. She smiled against his lips. They fell back onto his bed, ripped envelopes and love letters crumbled underneath them. MC rested her head on Mammon’s chest as he pulled her close, both of them smiling wide.

“Does this mean I can stop writing you letters?”

“Ya better not! I expect one first thing tomorrow.”

Mammon planted a small kiss on the top of her head.

Finally, he knew for sure that the human was his.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me fanfiction #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me fluff #obey me mammon #mammon x mc #sad mammon #protect mammon #he is best boi #moronsexual #omswd #mywriting

436 notes · View notes

sadachmesarthim · 3 years

Text

coercive notions - stucky

content: semi-graphic violence, blood, minor character deaths, emotional manipulation and abuse, false imprisonment, kidnapping, torture in the form of nonconsensual body modifications, stockholm syndrome.

dead dove: do not eat. steve sucks big time in this one. i’m not really sorry about it.

note: happy 6k followers to @sweeterthanthis !!! i love the idea of these prompts, they definitely did their job !! i was thrilled when i saw i got my quote of choice. this one’s based on ”i wish i knew how to quit you” from brokeback mountain (my favorite angsty husbands)

if the timeline is nonsensical in this - think 2 years post engame but no one's actually died! there is also some background starker but it's only mentioned twice. this is my first time writing for steve and bucky, and my first ~dark~ piece. it was definitely the challenge it presented itself as, and i’m super thankful for the opportunity to participate alongside so many talented witers!!

word count: 4.2k ; read time 15 minutes

Steve'd survived because of Bucky.

Bucky was the one that kept the fevers at bay, bought him medicine, nursed him back to health even when neither of them thought he'd survive through the night. Bucky was the one that dragged him out of the river, and left him alive on the bank.

Left him to wake up.

Bucky was the one that welcomed him with open arms when Steve was abandoned by the Avengers. Steve'd lost his home, his family - everyone and everything he had - when the world rejected him (the millionth time). Bucky was the one that came back. He'd lost his arm, his identity, everyone and everything he remembered - but he still ran to Steve without hesitation. No matter how far away they got, no matter what separated them, they always came back to one another.

They got together right after the fight with Tony in Siberia.

They'd found each other, and suddenly gained a future.

Steve had never... really pictured himself having a future. When he was younger, he accepted that he'd die young. A fever that wouldn't break, a cough that wouldn't leave, pneumonia he couldn't beat... Then he joined the army. He suddenly... had possibilities.

But there was still war, he was still fighting, and he was still in the line of danger every single day. It didn't matter if he was fighting Hitler, homophobia, Hydra, - someone was always gunning for him. Someone was always trying to get him killed. And it worked! He died! Crashed straight into the ocean and froze, for seventy fucking years!

Until someone had the audacity to defrost him, and yet again force him into the line of fire. Without really consulting him first. It was something Steve was slowly coming to terms with - he’d always be fighting, always be serving, always be protecting.

He’d been failing his job as a protector, lately.

+//////+

They all thought it was a bit weird, but then again, so is living with two men that look seventy years younger than they actually are. So is living with your coworkers. So is being a superhero. So of course none of the other Avengers said anything.

Not when Bucky started asking Steve permission for things - to get up from, and leave, the table after meetings. If he could get seconds during breakfast or dinner. If he was allowed to come on patrols or missions. Everyone just assumed it was a forties thing, or that it was just Bucky getting more comfortable around them. The dirtier minds of the group (Tony, Peter, Natasha) chalked it up to a kinky sex thing.

Steve saw it as devotion.

Bucky saw it as a way to keep him appeased.

See, Steve'd gotten more... irritable, lately. Every time Bucky got hurt on patrol, was in a bad position during a mission, needlessly volunteered to do something dangerous - it pissed Steve off to high heavens, for no reason. It'd gotten significantly worse over the course of a few months, to the point where Bucky could barely breathe without Steve getting upset.

It came to a head one day when Bucky got pinned during a fight with New York's latest nuisance. He wasn't even supposed to be there, it was his day off, for fucks sake. But he'd heard the call go out, and suited up before following a few minutes behind the rest of the crew.

This particular species of big nasty™ (a xorrian dog? Thor had called it?) had an... upsetting taste for live, warm flesh. He popped up outta nowhere over Manhattan during the Friday morning rush, apparently scouting Earth for the next course in their Milky Way Dinner Service.

Bucky, self sacrificing moron that he is, was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Just as Steve laid down the final blow, narrowly avoiding the alien's jaw, Bucky slid underneath it, shoving his hand between the soft plating of the monster's stomach. He reached in, single-handedly gutting the thing while Steve put a shield-sized dent in its skull.

Their foe dropped almost instantly, crushing Bucky beneath several tons of dead weight. None of them would have known he was there, either, if Tony hadn’t programmed life-sensing protocols in a new combat arm he’d gifted the soldier for his second anniversary home and Hydra-free. A signal went to Tony’s suit the instant FRIDAY sensed structural integrity issues, sending him a precise location.

“What do you mean he’s here, babygirl? We didn’t call him in.” The worry in Tony’s voice was apparent, calling the attention of the rest of his team. They were all intrigued, prematurely pulled from their celebrations of a fight well won.

“It seems that Sergeant Barnes is approximately twenty paces northwest of your location, and his elevation is slowly decreasing. Would you like a map of the area?”

“Uhh, no Fri. I think I know exactly where he is. Cap, get your ass over here!” His heart rate was increasing by the second. If he thought correctly (as Tony almost always did), Bucky was... underneath the alien. “We need to pick this fucker up, or flip it, or something. I think Bucky’s stuck under it.”

Steve’s blood ran cold. “Tony, what the fuck are you talking about? Bucky wasn’t part of the group today.”

Steve didn’t hide his anxiety well when it came to Bucky. Their team knew that he was Steve’s whole world. One more life threatening situation, and Steve might actually die from old age with all the years Bucky’d stressed out of him. FRIDAY sending a detailed ping with Bucky’s combat arm location didn’t do anything to ease his anxiety, either. He knew it was just like Bucky to do something like this - jump in without word, all act and no think. Try to help his team out and wind up crushed by an alien pet the size of a 787.

Peter was next to them, soon, ready to help get this thing off their friend. Together, they managed to drag Mister Beast-of-the-Week far enough down the street, revealing a very unconscious, very bloody Winter Soldier nestled in the asphalt.

Steve was on him in a second, picking Bucky up with both hands. Tony already had FRIDAY doing preliminary scans and sending them back to Cho and Strange. Initial reads weren’t terrible, all things considered, but he still looked like shit. He might be five hundred times stronger than the average man, but no one’s prepared to be stuck under 200 tons of pure xeno-reptilian mass. Not even Bucky Barnes.

His head rolled back freely as Steve picked him up, exposing an already bruised and swelling jaw. Steve’s breath caught in his throat, choking him on his own shock. Saved by the bell, Cho called Tony back immediately, sending for one of them to bring him to the tower surgical site immediately.

“We have to go, Steve. Let us take him, we’ll get him fixed. We’ve done it before. We can do it again. But you have to let him go.” Steve’s upward glance brought him Tony’s exasperated face. He was dizzy, everything felt like slow motion.

He didn’t register the movement until he saw it, watching Peter’s hands as they held him back. Tony took Bucky’s lifeless form, carrying him toward Stark Tower and away from the wreckage.

The wreckage he shouldn’t have been anywhere near in the first place.

The wreckage he wouldn’t even have known about if he didn’t beg Tony to be included in all mission alerts.

The wreckage he would have avoided if it weren’t for the martyr complex he’d had since birth. It might not be nearly as strong as Steve’s, but it was still there. Bucky’d always gone to obscene lengths protecting the people he loved.

Steve had a track record of doing a piss poor job of repaying the favor. He couldn’t save him from the war. He couldn’t save him from the train, or from Hydra. He couldn’t save him from Thanos. He couldn’t even save him from a stupid little skirmish downtown. No, from where he was standing, Steve’d fucked up. Big time.

He promised that day, he wasn’t going to let anything like this happen again.

+//////+

It was weeks before he was back to normal, and even then - Bucky wasn't entirely sure he wanted to leave. Not because he was still sore, or not feeling up to par. In fact, he'd been antsier and more ready to get back into the field than ever. He missed his friends, he missed the people he fought evil with every day. He missed sparring with Sam and going on runs with Peter, listening as Thor regaled stories about Old Asgard no one.. could quite follow. Missed the twice weekly calls from Shuri. But most of all, he missed his freedom.

Steve wasn't ready to give it to him.

When he woke up after surgery, Steve was right next to his recovery bed. He almost looked like he did back in the day - sleep deprived, worry lines forcing their way to the surface of his face. Vague frustration enveloped him, even when he met Bucky's conscious form for the first time.

Their first few conversations were tender, loving, but it didn't take long for them to sour.

Steve'd insisted on bringing Bucky back to their shared floor immediately after he woke. He allowed Cho to look him over, FRIDAY to scan him, everyone to come say hi - but he never let Bucky out of his sight. Not while Bucky was awake, anyway.

He slept a lot in those first few days. He was still healing, and while it might have been much faster than anyone expected, he was also recovering from what should have been several deaths over. He spent most of his time in bed, asleep, or talking to Steve.

Most of it was lecture, some was praise. How stupid he was to get involved on his day off. How much Steve loved him. How he wasn't allowed to go being a martyr like that again. How much Steve loved him. How Steve was going to do a better job of watching over him from now on. How much Steve loved him.

There was a lot of that, after Bucky woke up. How much Steve loved him. How important Bucky was to him, how much it meant to him that Bucky was alive and breathing and conscious and okay. Every time he got a lecture, or a reminder, Steve's hand was on him somewhere. His shoulder, his wrist, his face. His throat. Every time he spoke, he squeezed, just the tiniest bit. Not threatening, not even to force acknowledgement. Just.. Because he could. To the untrained eye, it was just physical contact.

Bucky knew better.

Bucky knew conditioning when he saw it. When he felt it.

Bucky also knew he was significantly more susceptible to conditioning than most people.

Bucky was fucked.

+//////+

Tony didn't think anything of it when Steve asked for handcuffs that could hold a supersoldier back. He, too, was a pervert with a genetically enhanced super-boyfriend, who was he to deny the Captain a little fun? He'd designed restraints Peter could use without breaking (or hurting himself!), why not share the love?

No one thought anything of it when Bucky stopped joining them on missions. Trauma has a different effect on everyone, maybe Bucky just needed time to process almost dying (again). No one would blame him for it. Hell, most of them encouraged his staying home.

None of them... really thought anything of it when he quit leaving altogether. They trusted Steve's judgement, and if he didn't think Bucky was ready to leave, then he wasn't. Bucky knew better than to defy him, too - just kept his mouth shut around "yes, Steve"s and "okay, Steve"s.

The conditioning didn't stop as he got stronger. He'd been back to 100% weeks ago, but Steve was still babying him. Carrying him to the shower, not letting Bucky bathe himself, or brush his own teeth. He couldn't dress or eat without help, go anywhere without asking. "I just want to keep you safe. I need to know that you're not going to get hurt." Steve's words remained calm, level, but his face betrayed the threat behind them. If you don't listen, you won't be able to leave at all.

Bucky'd learned the hard way that if he didn't listen to Steve, he wouldn't have a choice. He'd attempted to leave their floor by himself while Steve was out on a mission with Tony, Nat, and Thor - he got up early, showered, got dressed. His first taste of freedom in a long time, he was so excited to go see everyone again.

He was downstairs and halfway through breakfast with Bruce and Peter when Steve got back.

+//////+

Bucky couldn't remember the last time he'd seen the sun. It's a familiar feeling to him, one he thought he'd never deal with again. The isolation. The lack of control. The fear.

Steve initially hadn't looked mad. He let Bucky finish his meal, kept a distant but watchful eye over the group until the two others finished and moved on to their lab work downstairs.

Bucky knew he was fucked. He'd broken rules. He'd left their room without permission. Steve might not have looked it, but Bucky could feel the anger and disappointment radiating off him.

After that... He wasn't allowed to do anything.

No workouts, no missions, no patrols. No leaving their room. Steve'd used the restraints Tony made - had him thoroughly tied down to the floor below their bed. No internet, no phone. Not a single book or movie or boardgame in sight. Good boys don't require entertainment to behave. No eating - Steve'd placed a gastric tube down his sinus to provide nutrition. His muzzle, the one hydra'd used... Steve'd locked it over his jaw, and left it there. Good boys don't need to use their mouths - not to drink, not to eat. Not to talk back or call for help. No using the bathroom on his own - he had a catheter replaced once a day, and Steve changed his bag as needed. Good boys don't get to leave the bed, not even if it's an emergency.

He learned to wait for Steve. Learned his schedule - early morning meetings with Wakanda, check ins with Fury and Maria, patrol a bit after lunch. Then, he'd come back, make sure Bucky's bag was empty and his feeding tube was flushed and clean before feeding him.

Steve allowed him to use the bathroom and shower at night, under incredibly watchful eyes. The restraints Tony'd made were long enough to stretch the entire perimeter of their room, but Steve kept him on a short leash. Bucky had five minutes total - shit, shower, shave. If he didn't finish in time... There's always tomorrow.

If he did, he'd get rewarded.

Steve'd wrap him up in a large fluffy towel, carry him to bed. He'd bring back the sweet little reminders, with his hand around Bucky's throat. How much Steve loved him. How this was all for his protection. How Steve wasn't going to let anything happen to him, ever again. How proud Steve was of him, for letting him return that favor, even decades later. How well behaved Bucky was, how good he'd been for Steve.

Steve was so different from Hydra, too. That's what made it so fucking difficult to resist the love bomb-type conditioning. He wasn't the torture type - didn't like the idea of doing anything he didn't have to. Steve didn't want to hurt him, and Bucky knew that. He found it harder to reject Steve's advances the longer he was locked in that fucking room, found it harder to discern whether or not he... wanted... to reject it.

He was Bucky's dialysis, and his drinking problem.

He was Bucky's oxygen machine, and the cigarettes he'd smoked to earn him one.

Steve could ask Bucky to do anything, ask him for anything... and he was powerless to say no. He'd tried.

+//////+

It'd gotten him a flick to the mouth, for his hesitation.

"When I ask you a question, love, you need to answer me. Do you understand?" The tears in his eyes nearly spilled over, sharp pain from his lips radiating into his nose and the corners of his eyes. He didn't want to answer. He wanted to leave. He wanted to run, to get the fuck away from Steve and the compound and everything.

"Yes."

"Yes what, angel?" Steve might've been good about keeping his emotions checked in public, but Bucky could tell he was smug. Gloating. He enjoyed this. What'd happened to the sweet kid from Brooklyn that could barely hold himself upright? Bucky missed him.

"Yes, Stevie. I’m sorry Stevie." Saying his name was painful. This wasn't his Steve. This wasn't the Steve he'd fallen in love with. Wasn't even the man that'd dragged him out from underneath that alien... How long ago? Months? Years?

Bucky didn't know anymore.

Didn't know why his friends hadn't saved him yet. Didn't know how his absence went unnoticed for... however long it'd been. Didn't know why he was struggling to be upset about it all.

Steve, observant as he was, could practically see the gears turning in the other's head. He cradled Bucky's face in his hands, drawing him into calculated eye contact. Bucky felt sick. There was something... wrong, there. Something Bucky'd never seen before.

"They don't love you like I do, Buck. They don't want you. They don't love you."

Bucky flinched at the words, physically recoiling from Steve's grasp. He knew it wasn't true, he knew... He thought it wasn't, right?

Steve's laugh pulled Bucky out of his own thoughts, bringing him back to the room in front of him. He had a display up, with various recordings of the rest of the Avengers. He flipped through them, muting and unmuting seemingly at random.

"... I mean, he's probably ditched us for Zemo again. Would that really shock you?"

"he almost died again. I don't blame him, i wouldn't want to be found eith-"

"-e can take care of himself, let's just give him time."

Steve waved the holo display away when he saw the first few tears fall. "Don't you see, Baby? They don't care like I do - they don't love you like I love you. No one will ever love you like I love you." Steve's words stung, but Bucky couldn't deny that they made sense. Of course no one was looking for him. He was unpredictable, still kind of an outsider. Why would they try to come find him? Why would they care?

Bucky's mouth moved before his brain could stop him.

"'m sorry, Stevie, please, I'm so sorry! I-I- I thought they cared, please, please don't leave me Stevie! I was so wrong, Steve please! Wish I knew how to stop, Stevie, but you know I can't. You gotta help me stop Stevie, I've been so confused, been tryin' to quit you Stevie but I can't. Wish I could quit you but I can't, I can’t be left alone anymore. Please, you can take my arm if you want it, Stevie. Take anything, take whatever you want from just please, please don’t leave me alone anymore!"

He was in hysterics at this point, unable to believe what was coming out of him. Was he really okay with Steve taking his arm away? Did he really love this Steve back? Was he just scared?

The worst part was that he couldn't tell.

+//////+

The smell of fresh coffee woke him before he was ready. His eyes burned, still dry after Steve refused to close the window before they went to bed.

Bucky would have closed it himself, but he couldn't actually reach that far.

They'd moved out to the cabin a few months after Bucky finally broke realized how wrong he was. It was a cute little place, big enough for the two of them but small enough to not draw attention if someone came upon it by accident. Not that they really could. Steve'd installed motion sensors five miles out, and had fully automated... solutions, in place, should any threats or issues arise.

They went entirely unused.

It really was a beautiful plot of land - they had a few animals, a cute pair of kittens to dote on and play with. He had enough room to move around, to sit in the sun or curl up in bed. He had plenty of books, games, anything and everything he could want to occupy his time, really. He had Steve.

And breakfast now, apparently.

Steve set the plate on the bedside table, gently sitting next to his lover and planting small kisses on his still shut eyelids. Bucky looked up and smiled, blushing at the hand that'd wrapped around his neck. He reached out, gently thumbing at the inside of Steve's wrist. Oh, how he'd missed this. Missed contact with his Steve.

He opened his mouth, accepting the bite Steve offered him. Steve always made the best pancakes, he thought, appreciating the hot meal hitting his tongue. He hadn't eaten this good in weeks. It was hard for him to cook without his arm, but Steve always provided. Steve cooked for them, cleaned up after them, made sure Bucky was sated. Safe.

He'd taken off for a mission nearly a month ago. A dangerous one, he'd said. One he might not return from for a while, he'd said. Bucky worried. He always did when Steve left, especially since he couldn't know where or why he was going. But Steve always came back to him. Sometimes, he was back in one piece. Once, he'd come home with an arrow in his stomach and several gunshot wounds. That'd been a... scary night. Another time, he came home with half of his hair singed off and his clothes in tatters.

Last night... Last night he finally came home, and he looked like shit.

He was covered in bruises, nearly 40 pounds lighter than he was when he'd left. There were holes in the shield, too large to be bullets but too small to be anything else easily recognizable. Some were through his suit, too - puncture wounds littering his chest and stomach. They were already partially closed, but he was still bloody.

There were still webs in his hair, too - Bucky brushed them away after Steve closed (and locked. always locked.) the door. He knew better than to comment. Steve was just protecting him. Steve loved him, he was doing what he needed to keep Bucky safe.

But that didn't mean it didn't hurt. That each time Steve left for a mission, Bucky cried himself to sleep. He thought, eventually, that the pain would go away. That the death of each of his friends would get easier, somehow. That the fear, the hope, of losing Steve would stop consuming him.

He'd just smiled, kissed his husband's cheek, and helped him strip down. He'd mouthed at the graze left on the side of Steve's neck, reverent in the presence that was his protector. Bucky'd developed quite the complex, in their time of isolation. Every time Steve came in - from cutting firewood, picking food from the garden, feeding the animals, or from nights like last... Bucky just couldn't stop talking.

About how he wouldn't be alive without Steve. How he'd still be a mindless slave for Hydra, killing innocent people under everyone's noses. How he owed Steve his life, a thousand times over. How he'd've been taken by Ross or Stark or Clint or someone, and locked away miles under the sea. He'd pressed them into Steve's jaw like kiss-coated secrets, like no one in the entire world knew these things but Bucky & Steve. Like they were bits of information to cherish, to chew on and savour before swallowing.

Steve just laughed, picking Bucky up and bringing him to bed. He followed shortly after, cleaning and patching himself up before snuggling right up to Bucky.

Sleeping was interesting, initially, but they'd adapted. It was easier to cuddle Bucky without his arm, but sometimes Steve woke up with his legs tangled in loose chains by the footboard. It was an easy enough trade, in Bucky's opinion. Give up his arm, give up a bit of freedom, and get a loving, devoted husband in return? One that would make him breakfast in bed, one that would hold him and kiss him and praise him whenever he needed? One that would kill for him? Die for him?

Bucky saw it as a fair enough trade, and if that meant their friends needed to die... He tried not to think about it.

26 notes · View notes

daydream-believin · 4 years

Text

A Nice Rock For You, My Love (Please Accept)

Summary: Douxie would like to give the reader a special present.

Warnings: Swearing, stabbing, blood, swords and a knife.

Word Count: 3092 -ten pages 12 point times new roman, baby!

A/N: even i couldn’t predict where the hell this was headed. have fun with this. i sure did ;)

Douxie placed his newest rock onto the window ceil in his bedroom. He’d display it for a while, but add it to the collection jar with the others once it was replaced. Every morning he’s wake up, see the shiny stone on his window ceil, and think of his wonderful significant other.

Y/n was an odd duck, but an endearing one at that. They spent most of their time out in the local forest. Douxie wasn’t sure what they did out there for so long each day, but that didn’t matter as long as they’d come back to see him in the evenings. They’d return to civilization every night scruffy, smelly, and with twigs stuck in their hair, but he thought they looked lovely. Enchanting even. A little dirt never did hurt anyone.

He was going to have to get a new jar soon. Every week or so, Y/n would present him with a new one. A token of their affection for the wizard. He kept every single one. He kept one in the pocket of his favourite jacket. Y/n had found that particular one in the flat of a creek bed. They were drawn in by the bright blue color, reminding them of their beloved wizard’s most recent dye job. After fishing it out, it turned out to be a piece of beach glass, but it was very smooth and rounded. Douxie was using it as a worry stone.

Of course, rocks weren’t the only thing Y/n had brought him. Any small thing not tied down the forest could offer was up for grabs to the local cryptid. Sometimes they’d leave him feathers from a bird they swore they got permission from to take. Sometimes they’d give him sticks they carved intricate designs into. Sometimes bones. A lot of times bones. Not enough bones for visitors in his home to question though. They just assumed he was really goth. One time, Y/n even straight up gifted him a jar of mud. Well, it supposed to be soil from the picnicking spot they often spent their dates, some water from the nearby stream, with a few hand-plucked flower heads added to the top. Romantic, right? Unfortunately, it was accidentally shaken up between the time Y/N made it and the time they presented it to Doux. Still, it was proudly displayed on his shelf.

As tokens of affection began to collect, Doux decided he should return the favor. He’d find the perfect gift for his dear Y/n. One to show them just how much he cared, just how far his affection for them reached. Something to make that toothy smile light up their pretty face. Something to seal a promise to them, that he’d be by their side until the end of time.

So here he was, in this jewelry store, trying to find that perfect shiny rock for his significant other. It wasn’t going too well, to be honest. Everything was too fancy, and quite frankly, too expensive. It was like the whole store was polished and perfect. All those rings were beautiful, yes, but they looked like they belonged on the finger of a middle-class suburban spouse, not his wonderfully scruffy partner. His darling sasquatch. Too impersonal for his taste.

He’d decided that the only way to match Y/n’s energy was to find the stone himself. Luckily, he did live in Arcadia. Right below his feet were a system of caves that spanned at least a hundred miles. Surely the local trolls wouldn’t mind. Okay, so they did, but that wasn’t going to stop him.

After some exploring some of the tunnels for a while and getting a wee bit lost in the maze, he eventually came across a patch of purpley clusters growing from the cave wall. Amethysts, he guessed? Maybe fluorite. Either way, it was marvelous. The color was even close to that of Y/n’s magic. They put off a nice good energy too. This would be perfect. He just needed to find a small enough piece, or chip off a bit, and his quest would be complete. He magicked himself up a knife and set to work. It took him several tries, but eventually he wound up with a nice rock. It wasn’t perfect, even kind of lopsided for a ring, but it was a really good purple rock. Raw too. Uncut and unpolished, like them.

He brought it over to his work buddy Annie’s place. She had been really into jewelry making this year. Douxie had seen some of her work. It was top notch. She’d make him a nice personalized ring and set the stone into it. And he’d have the peace of mind knowing that this gift would be an excellent piece of craftsmanship. Hopefully Y/n wouldn’t lose it in the river. Thankfully, he had measured their ring size during their nap yesterday. So it would be nice and snug. Not drop-in-the-riverable at all… He’d enchant it.

Now all there was to do was wait. He had to give it to them at just the right moment for maximum romantic impact here. He’d watched a thousand proposal videos on youtube to get some semblance of an idea of what he was supposed to be doing. To be honest, a lot of them seemed kind of over the top and forced. While Doux was a showman, he didn’t want to go that route. This moment was going to be special. Intimate. Full of love.

He’d set up a lovely date for the occasion. A moonlight picnic in their favourite spot. Romantic, with candles. And roses. And champagne. He’d bring his acoustic too, to play for them. A classic serenade for his love. He also dressed up the trees around with some twinkly magical lights. He was thinking of making them a little show with magic lights too, to narrate their love story. After it was all over, they’d head over to the clearing to go star gazing. And they’d fall asleep under the stars in each other’s arms as a betrothed couple. Okay, so maybe he was going over the top after all. Just a tad. He couldn’t help it.

Once he got it all set up, he asked Archie to watch over it while he went to go get his darling. He even acquired a blindfold so he could get that maximum surprise effect. But he didn’t take into account the fact that nature isn’t exactly flat, and he had to help them carefully navigate the forest floor. At a certain point, he just decided to just pick Y/n up bridal style and carry them, eliciting a giggle from them. It was faster and easier for both parties. Also more romantic. A win-win. Y/n noticed his heart was beating pretty fast as they leaned against his chest. He was getting antsy as the spot came into view.

He was pleased and relieved to see that nothing had gone amiss so far. Everything was intact. Archie was just lazily snoozing on the blanket. Douxie cleared his throat to catch Arch’s attention and silently shooed him away with a head jerk. The dragon-cat nodded and took off towards town. Douxie placed Y/n down onto the blanket, oh so gently, taking their blindfold off to reveal everything. Y/n was, to Douxie’s dismay, immediately aware that something was up. This was quite the set up before them. They reacted nervously, which disheartened him slightly, but he couldn’t back out now. He wouldn’t back out now. He won’t.

He handed Y/n the bouquet of roses, and they flushed. That wonderful pink color of their cheeks somehow gave him enough courage to help him make it through his entire prepared speech without stuttering. What a feat. Despite their earlier wariness, Y/n was captivated. They hung off his every word. Douxie came to the conclusion that he must be using every drop of luck he had right now. Now for the best part, or the part that could embarrass him the most, depending on whether or not his luck continued. Time to woo his beloved with a special song he wrote just for them. Time to bear his soul. His fingers danced over the strings with practiced skill. The most beautiful melody Y/n had ever heard. They had stars in their eyes. He was halfway through his serenade when the heavens opened up.

Douxie almost instantly cast a magic shield over them. It was beautiful, in a way. The raindrops bucketing down, hitting the transparent glowing shield. It made a private percussion symphony just for them. Rain. Douxie saving the day. It was so cliché, they laughed together. Those freckles on his face danced adorably as he shook with laughter. So, in the spirit of clichés, Y/n decided to repay him for all his chivalry with a kiss. It caught him off guard at first, eyes wide, but he quickly melted into it.

As the kiss deepened, he pulled his fingers through their hair. They let out a moan into his mouth. He couldn’t help the lovesick grin that spread across his face. He turned his attention towards their neck. They tipped their head to give him better access, letting their hands travel down his back. He smelled smokey, he must have had some spell backfire on him today. How endearing. As Doux kissed right under their jaw, they opened their eyes just a half-lid. And then promptly snapped them open all the way. They briskly pulled back, eliciting a whine from Douxie.

“Uhhh, Doux,” He turned around to see what had frightened them.

“Oh fuzzbuckets,” he blinked at the sight, “is that a wolf?” Douxie exclaimed in disbelief.

“No, no, not a wolf. It can’t be a wolf. There’s exactly one singular wolf pack in Cali and its definitely not in fucking Arcadia Oaks.”

The wolf stepped forward. It was smaller than a normal wolf. A wolf-dog maybe. It snarled at them, spit dripping from its sharp teeth. They dared not move, and risk provoking it. Still as statues, Y/n and Douxie watched as it howled a warning to them. Or at least they thought it was a warning.

Suddenly, a very tall figure appeared through the trees. Black cloak billowing in the dark storm, it was if cooked up from some horror novel. Well, a children’s horror novel. It probably could have been much, much scarier. Especially to a couple of wizards that also frequently wore black and walked through the dark with their own less-than-domestic pets. But nevertheless, the sight raised the hackles on the backs of their necks. The wolf-dog ran to its master’s side. The figure patted his familiar’s scruffy head, then strode towards the picnic.

Douxie and Y/n swiftly sprang to their feet. Doux stepped in front of Y/n, to their annoyance. They could hold their own and Douxie knew it, but he couldn’t help those protective instincts. As the figure came closer, he dramatically tossed back his hood. Lightning struck at the very moment his bearded face was revealed to them. Completely by coincidence, honest.

“Eoin?” Douxie exclaimed in surprise. That expression of surprise then twisted into one of disgust. “Oh bleeding balroths, it’s fucking Eoin.” He half-shouted, half-grumbled.

“Aye, Hisirdoux! My old pal! How’ve you been, bruv?” Eoin flourished his cloak and smirked at the two. He eyed up Y/n. “And what a lovely partner you’ve got here, might I add.” Y/n shifted to be a bit more behind Doux.

“What do you want, my friend?” Douxie frustratedly asked. Y/n was getting the impression that, despite the terms of endearment here, these two were not friends.

“Why, don’t you already know, little Douxie? I’m here to settle something I should have long ago.” He said in a now less-than-friendly tone of voice.

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” Douxie was exasperated. Eoin just started coming closer. “Alright, mate,” Douxie raised his hands, flicking through his cuff, getting ready for what he knew was about to transpire without any more delay. His adversary shot up his hands to stop him.

“Oh! No, no, no! Friend, we’ll settle this like men. The old-fashioned way.”

Eoin summoned two rapiers out of thin air. Both some sort of gleaming black metal and glowing jewels. He kept the one with the red gems in his right hand, and tossed Douxie the one with the blue gems with his left. Color coordination, one supposes. Douxie tested the blade with a few swings and parries. His eyes looked down at the rapier and then to Eoin. They sort of bowed to each other.

They fenced back and forth deftly. It was like a dance. A tango. Y/n was impressed at how light footed Douxie actually was. Maybe he planned this? Was this a part of the show or something? It would be an excellent way to prove how capable he was of defending them from evil or whatever. But they got the feeling that this was undeniably real and not planned by, if not for the rancid aura hanging in the air, the absolutely murderous looks in the two men’s eyes.

The wolf-dog came towards Y/n. They readied a spell for defense, but the dog just, sort of sat next to them? It looked like it was also watching the fight intently. It would woof at the two whenever its master got the upper hand, almost as if cheering him on. Strange. A good boy, Y/n supposed. They’d reach down to pet it but they didn’t fancy losing their hand.

Eventually, Douxie came out on top. The duel had been nasty, but it now looked as if it was all but through. Douxie had Eoin knocked onto his back in the mud at the base of one of the massive old oak trees Arcadia was known for. He held his blade to Eoin’s throat, and they locked eyes. Douxie was huffing for air. But to Eoin’s surprise, He started apologizing. An entire speech. Confusion flashed on Eoin’s face. Hisirdoux had always felt guilty about his transgressions as a lad, about the people he trampled in order to survive before Merlin gave him a home. So he’d spare his old enemy. He was terribly sorry he’d begun this feud in the first place.

“And what say you, old buddy,” Douxie grinned hopefully with a glimmer in his hazel eyes. Douxie held out his hand in an offer of actual friendship. He stared into Eoin’s eyes. Eoin stared into his. Eoin’s shaky hand began to reach up to take Douxie’s. They clasped their hands together. Brothers. And for a moment, Douxie had really thought they had made up this time, looking into Eoin’s feeble smile. That is, until Eoin yanked Douxie down towards himself on the ground. Right into his ready, hungry blade.

To the soundtrack of Y/n’s screams, Eoin stood up, casually tossing Douxie’s limp body off his sword. The wind whipped his cloak as he stormed off, into the storm. The wolf-dog followed his master, howling in victory. Y/n was crossing the woods to cling to Doux in an instant.

He coughed up some blood, and intensely stared into Y/n’s eyes. He weakly took their hand, and caressed their cheek. Then remembered to reach into his pocket and pull out that special ring. He slipped it onto their slick, wet finger. Oh, it appeared that their hands were covered in blood. His blood. Neat.

“I- I wanted to a-” he coughed up some more blood, “to ask you if-”

“Yes! Yes, of course,” they sounded panicked, “please, save your breath, my love.” They pleaded. He feebly leaned in to kiss them, but then his world went black. His body fell like a ragdoll into Y/n’s arms.

Try as they might, they weren’t a healer. Purple light shone like a beacon in the black stormy night. They performed as many healing, even vaguely healing-ish fixit spells as they knew. Unfortunately, this was a stab wound from a magic blade. They couldn’t take him to the hospital, even if they had any trust in modern medicine. Hot tears streamed down their face. But the word hopeless is not devoid of hope. Hope sparked in their heart as they remembered something, somewhere, important.

They had to get him out of here, and fast. He was bleeding out. There was so, so much blood. It had positively soaked through Y/n’s already wet clothes before they were even half way to their destination. The smell of the rain mixing with all the blood was sickening. It was hard to find their way in this darkness. They slipped on the mud and tripped over rocks. Y/n was starting to slip into a panic attack. They couldn’t even go very fast, he was so heavy in their arms. And Y/n was frightened of hurting him even more by accident. Y/n was very, very frightened in general.

Time moved like molasses. In what could have been years for Y/n, the cave they were carrying Douxie to finally came within sight. Their heart was threatening to pound right out of their chest. They mustered up the last of their strength and broke out into a sprint. Bolting through the curtain doors of the cave and knocking around the strings of bones that hung with them, Y/n dropped to their knees.

“Please! Save him! I beg of thee.” They pleaded to the three old women sitting around the hearth.

***

Douxie was awoke to the sound of shuffling and unintelligible whispers. He could smell a strong mix of herbs in the air. He felt the soft back of a cold hand rest on his forehead, so he slowly opened his eyes. He was met with the red tear-streaked face of his beloved. Y/n gasped. they excitedly called to whoever else was in the room with them that he was now awake. He did not recognize these women. He did not recognize where he was. He supposed that didn’t matter.

Y/n pulled him into a gentle hug, as if he were made of glass. A handsome glass sculpture that would shatter if they let go of him. They just lied there, holding onto each other for dear life, for what must have been an hour. Breathing in each other’s scents, they had still refused to let go, but Douxie started to cough again. They reluctantly pulled apart, and y/n started their interrogation about any pain he might be experiencing. He was alright, a little sore, but fine. Nothing time won’t fix. And time he was glad to still have with them.

***

bonus A/N: i swear this was supposed to be normal, just a sappy proposal fic. but once i set everything up i was overcome with the urge to stab him. so i created a character specifically to stab him. idk im not sorry. at first i had eoin like, cheat the duel with magic, but i figured doux would be his own downfall with that bleeding heart of his we all love so much. happy november y’all.

#douxie x reader #hisirdoux casperan x reader #hisirdoux x reader #douxie imagine #tales of arcadia x reader #hisirdoux casperan imagine #hisirdoux casperan #douxie #toa douxie #my writing

138 notes · View notes

orbitariums · 4 years

Text

𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐦 | 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 (𝟏𝟎)

note: hey y’all welcome back!! the chapter we’ve all been waiting for is hereee honey chile.

jusss so you know there will not be smut this time around. i took y’alls opinions and my own opinions into account and decided it would be best!! sry if you’re disappointed, i promise u will get smut. and since i’ve made my decision n planned it out it will be juicy and perfeeect. for now i hope y’all enjoy this chapter ! <3 it’s the longest yet so buckle up and share your thoughts with me!!! love u.

playlist (always always adding new additions, go check it out n listen while u read!!)

warnings: none

word count: 14.4k

Steve was resisting the urge to pace back and forth in his room that morning. He knew that any minute now, you would receive his gifts, and see the ticket. He was a bit nervous. He just wanted everything to go well. God forbid someone find out by accident and not only ruin the surprise, but discover what you and Steve had been up to.

Or maybe you'd changed your mind — no, you wouldn't, not without talking to him first. He was really just anticipating the moment he knew you'd actually seen the gifts, which he wouldn't know until you contacted him.

He kept looking over at his phone, glancing down and waiting for the screen to light up with your name. But he knew this was unhealthy, sitting around, waiting for your response. He had nowhere else to go, but he'd retire to the kitchen to make some coffee. Granted, it didn't really do anything for him, but it filled in the time, and distracted him from waiting around for your response.

The clock ticked on as Steve waited. Drinking coffee and reading the paper could only take up so much time out of his day. Soon enough, he was back to waiting. And waiting. Until...

His phone seemed to be ringing with more ferocity than he ever remembered, and he practically snatched it off the table in the meeting room, causing several eyes to glance up at him. He blushed, smiling awkwardly,

"Gotta take this."

He accepted the call without even looking to see who it was, hurrying out of the office and into his room in brisk, long strides, speaking hurriedly into the phone,

"Hello?"

"Steve! Holy shit!" it was your voice on the other end, and Steve was relieved to hear it. Now he could stop anticipating, stop worrying. His heart was soaring just hearing your voice, and he knew you'd received his gift. He was hardly listening as you went on and on, not saying much of anything, just shouting excitedly into the phone.

Once you'd opened the envelope again to see the single plane ticket which read DESTINATION: MANHATTAN with the date and time printed elsewhere, your mouth literally dropped open. It was as shocking as the moment Steve revealed his face to you, but the context was oh so different, and so much better, even. Of course you'd been expecting to see him, and you knew it would be soon, but you hadn't expected it to come about in this way at all. No, not at all.

Your heart pounded and you dropped the ticket onto the floor, swiping it right back up like it was a check for a million dollars. And those butterflies in your stomach went wild. Your mind was a blur, but one thing was clear: you were actually going to meet Steve. Maybe your reaction would've been different had Steve done this in a more mundane manner, but he had taken you completely by surprise.

And honestly, you were over the moon with excitement to meet him. So, rightfully so, you were freaking out. You had tripped over yourself trying to find your phone, your hands trembling as you called him.

Steve was grinning from ear to ear at the sound of your voice. He'd never heard you so ecstatic, so happy over something which he was anxiously awaiting your reaction to. And it settled in for Steve too - he was really going to meet you. It was as big a deal to him as it was to you, and the days of waiting only made you both more antsy to meet.

"Oh my god!" you squealed again for a final time. "Are you for real? How long have you been planning this, how — did you know about this before I went out with my parents? How the hell did you pull this together, how did you- oh god, I should let you talk. But, fuck, seriously? You're serious right now?"

"Hundred percent," Steve replied, still beaming, closing the door to his room behind him.

You went off again, shouting expletives and declarations of joy into the phone. You knew you weren't being very mindful right now, but fuck it if you weren't. You didn't get nice things like this often. The fact that Steve had taken you seriously and took the dedication to make this happen when you knew it wouldn't be easy? Your reaction was completely validated.

"You're fucking amazing. You know that?" you blurted, unable to hide your praise, making Steve's cheeks heat up yet again, the curve of a shy grin appearing on his lips.

“You're sweet," Steve uttered out, his heart feeling warm.

“Are you blushing, Stevie?" you teased, and he laughed.

“To answer your other questions. I've been planning it ever since we spoke about it on Facetime, during your party. But I didn't finalize plans until last week. And no, I didn't know about it before you went out with your parents. How'd I pull it together? Well, it was complicated, I had to do a lot of things very discreetly and plan out when I can take time off so I can be with you. But it's not that hard to get plane tickets- granted, it's a private jet—"

You didn't even let Steve finish talking or let that process in your mind before you blurted out,

"Private jet?!"

You thought nothing more could surprise you, but here Steve was, full of surprises. And honestly, you hadn't expected anything fancy. You figured he'd just pick you up from the airport after an economy flight, and that was enough for you. A private jet, though? It was unfathomable. You'd never even been on a plane past standard class.

Steve's eyebrow raised - had he done too much? Honestly, everything that went into this took a lot of internal debate. He didn't want to do too much, and he didn't want to do too little. But, he figured, after all you two had been through, after all you had been through, you deserved a bit of luxury. Besides, that wasn't all Steve had planned — you didn't know it, but you were in for even more of a shock.

"Is it too much?" Steve muttered, and you scoffed in disbelief,

"Hell yeah. Steve, I can't afford to pay you back, I-"

Steve's brows furrowed together as he laughed, realizing why you were reacting this way. He had considered how you might react to the extravagance Steve was planning, but he should've known you'd act like you now owed him something.

"Come on, princess," he drawled, his voice seeming to drop a few octaves unexpectedly. At the sound of Steve's voice deepening and the new nickname he'd donned for you, you felt your face warm up. "You know you're not paying me back."

You took in a deep breath, suddenly finding it a bit hard to breathe, fanning yourself. You liked this side of Steve for sure. But, that didn't mean you wanted to be super spoiled. You were used to getting special treats from customers, sure, but that was different. That was for work. When it came to romances? The last time you'd been "spoiled" was when your ex-boyfriend gave you flowers, and that was hardly spoiling. You realized now that that was the bare minimum.

So, you weren't used to being spoiled, hell, even really being taken care of by people, be it your parents or your romantic partners. It was a part of the reason you had always felt like you had to ask to be loved, a habit you had to teach yourself to grow out of. Steve didn't make you feel like you had to ask for anything.

"Right. I just..." you sighed loudly, pressing a hand to your hot forehead. This was a lot for you to take in, overwhelming in the best way. You couldn't believe this was your life right now. "I don't want you to feel like you have to — I mean, it's just... why?"

Steve laughed, shaking his head. He found it adorable how stunned you were by his gestures. He wanted to fly you out and make it an experience. Steve wasn't usually one to go big, so he even surprised himself in his actions, but he thought it was all worth it. It was so unlike him, so unlike anything the Steve a few months before would've expected of him. Out of anyone he knew, he felt like you deserved it.

"Because you're you. And you deserve it. I just want to make this day special. I figure, why not splurge and go all out? And since you and me both care about the environment, I sent in one of Tony's environmentally friendly jets. Do me a favor, don't push this away. You deserve a treat. You're so hardworking and the gift of seeing you is something I could never repay... but I could at least try."

You felt your heart warm at Steve's words, sinking into your couch with a hand on your chest, feeling your heart flutter as you cooed,

"Steve, you're such a darling. I... this is the fucking craziest and best thing that's happened to me in a long time. But... just promise me this isn't the beginning of a sugar relationship, because that's not something I'm into."

You were half-joking, but you were serious. Steve didn't seem like the sugar daddy type, but in any case you didn't want being with him to mean that he supplied you with your every need and then some. You didn't side eye people who sought that out, but you were so used to being on your own and making money the way that you did, that someone genuinely devoting all their time to paying you just for existing felt unnatural. You weren't the type to sit back and get paid for nothing. While you understood the appeal, you just couldn't feel comfortable doing it. And you didn't want Steve to think he could buy your time, though you knew he didn't think that.

"I know. Don't worry, that's not what this is. Just special treatment for a day, is that alright?" Steve asked.

"It's more than alright," you gave in — you knew Steve had good intentions only, but it was still hard for you to accept that someone would do this for you just because. You were trying to get used to your energy being reciprocated — more than reciprocated, it was overflowed. "I can't thank you enough, Steve. Really."

"Don't worry about it. I look forward to seeing you," Steve said, and the words felt like a relief just to say them, now that he knew it was a reality.

"I'm counting down the days," you trilled, laying back on your couch with a dazed smile on your face.

❁❁❁

"Since when do you have family in New York? Thought your whole fam was California born and raised." Aaliyah quirked a brow, pinching the straw of her strawberry daiquiri.

"Since... now, I guess," you shrugged.

You were lying your ass off. You had to make up some excuse to Aaliyah as to why, in a week, you would be leaving to New York for two weeks.

"Huh," Aaliyah furrowed her brows, running it over in her mind and then shrugging. "Well, I'll miss you. Who else am I gonna get drunk off my ass with in the middle of the day?"

You laughed, squeezing Aaliyah's hand. You felt a bit bad for lying, but it was what you had to do for now at least, until you felt comfortable enough to reveal your secret. So you didn't dwell on it. You weren't hurting anyone, and you were honest with her about everything else but this.

"It's two weeks, not a year."

Aaliyah's eye twitched and she glared at you,

"Two weeks is a year."

"I'll write," you rolled your eyes playfully, and she nudged you from across the table.

"You better."

In the days leading up to your big day with Steve, you stressed about every little detail. What did you need to pack, what could you leave at home? What clothes should you bring? Would Steve want you to bring something in particular to wear, besides the lingerie he'd bought you? Oh of course not, he wouldn't give a rat's ass what you wore. You didn't know it fully yet, but you could wear a t-shirt with holes in it and dusty sweatpants and he'd still see you as a perfect ten.

You packed for a few days, and you talked to Steve everyday since that day. Sometimes you could only text, but luckily you could call most of the time. You talked to Steve about norms, as in just basic rules you both had to follow when you were together. It wasn't meant to be restrictive, it was meant to be smart. Neither of you wanted anything getting out before you were ready, so there were precautions you would have to take. You understood that.

Steve was just as, if not more, nervous than you were about the whole ordeal. He was the one in charge of making sure things went right, making sure you were safe, putting everything together just to see you. He was eager to see you, but you were both full of nerves. Today, you had no time to be nervous — because you were on the way to the airport.

As requested, you updated Steve about everything. Right now, you were in the backseat of the comfortable uber that Steve sent to you. Your nerves were on one hundred right now. You couldn't stop crossing and uncrossing your legs in the backseat of the black SUV, wiping nervous sweat off your palms.

Steve texted you back, reminding you that you'd be alone at the airport besides the staff. And you knew that hours later, at an airport in New York, he'd be waiting for you. The whole ride there, you stressed about what Steve would be like in real life- what he'd look like, how he'd greet you. You were sure he would be just as sweet as he was over the phone, if not sweeter.

But god, did the thought of closing the distance make you nervous. You thought back to the day you and Steve first spoke, how different your life was then, and how this wasn't even something that registered to you. You didn't know Steve back then, didn't know who he really was. There wasn't even a chance that you'd even think about this. And now, here you were, about to meet the man you'd found under such strange circumstances.

When you arrived to the airport, you almost didn't want to look out of the window. You didn't want to see what you knew was right outside — that big, private jet that you just couldn't ignore, darting your eyes towards it once from your car seat and never being able to look away.

"Here you are," chirped the friendly driver, opening your door for you. You were frozen in your seat, hadn't even taken off your seatbelt. The driver looked at the private jet, then at you with a warm smile. "Lucky you."

You refocused, back to planet Earth, and let out a shaky breath. You hadn't even stepped on the jet and already you were going through rigor mortis.

"Yeah," you replied with a bit of a neurotic laugh.

You unlatched the seatbelt and wobbled out of the car— when had your legs turned to jelly? You were trying to contain yourself, trying not to act like a fool over something so material, but God, you thought. Nothing had ever been so majestically presented to you. You'd never been with anybody who had the means to do this, and that didn't matter, because you'd never been with anyone who would make these grand gestures just because. You weren't asking for a private jet, but from the way you'd been treated in your past relationships, you'd think that you were.

"Holy shit," you murmured under your breath, and lurched forward, the driver carrying your luggage behind you. The steps to the jet were already at the floor, and all you could do was stand at the foot with wide eyes. You could see the staff were kindly waiting for you to come in, and you called up to them, awestruck. "Do I just go in?"

"Come on up, Miss! It's all yours," a staff member encouraged you, calling you by your last name like you were some important administrator.

This did something for you. You made a livable wage, and had some leftover for the occasional treat— like selfcare or stuff for your cam shows. But this was the life of a millionaire. And although you resisted initially, the fact that you knew Steve had arranged that you got treated with the utmost respect during your travel made it a lot harder for you to.

You weren't on some sort of power trip, but this once again proved the kind of gentleman that Steve was. It made you feel more comfortable, knowing that you'd be treated like you belonged here, when you felt anything but. He cared about you, and you'd never really had that before. Not like this.

You actually stepped foot inside, and when you saw what was before you, you audibly gasped, brows raising far up your forehead. You'd never seen anything like this. Sleek, modern furniture adorned the interior of the jet, which stretched so far you didn't think it'd be possible to see everything. You nearly panicked — there was no way Steve had done all this for you. No way.

It was basically a mansion, compacted into a private jet — which sounded like the most ludicrous thing you'd ever heard of. Everything inside had a color scheme, cool neutrals and splashes of color here and there. The seats were plush and huge, leaving leg room for days. There was even a big TV screen in the middle of this particular section. Everything about this screamed luxury.

"Welcome! First time on a private jet?" Eliza, an employee, asked, and her presence was a shock to you — you were too busy staring in awe at everything you were seeing.

"Yeah... is it noticeable?" you joked, a hand over your chest.

"I won't say," she grinned, and you shook your head, chuckling.

"This is all so... amazing. I-I've never seen anything like this. It's like, you see it in movies and online but... but for someone to actually bring it to me? Just because?"

"He must really like you," said Eliza— of course, she didn't actually know who he was.

"Yeah," you said tearfully, trying to avoid crying and becoming even more of a mess than you already were.

Thankfully, you weren't scared— just amazed. You were sure you'd settle in at some point, but right now, you were kind of in paradise. You just had to get used to it first.

"Please, sit anywhere! Or I can give you a tour, let you get accustomed."

"Please," you answered immediately. Maybe after she showed you everything, you'd feel a bit less overwhelmed.

You let Eliza lead you through the jet, showing you all of its amenities and rooms. Each time you thought nothing more could surprise you, there was something new up until the end.

For one, there was a kitchen where a team of chefs would work to serve you - some of your favorite things were on the menu, mimosas included. Steve had really been paying attention when you spoke to him about the little things. You didn't realize how much he genuinely enjoyed talking to you, how he died to hear the most trivial things about you and compartmentalized it.

Hell, there was even a bedroom with your name encrusted on a gold plaque attached to the door - ridiculous, you thought, but so amazing. Attached to that bedroom was a full bathroom. Everything was top tier, nothing surprising considering this was Stark property, but still, it was crazy to see. By the end, while you were glad you were familiar with everything on the jet, you still couldn't help but feel floored.

You felt like a princess - adorned with special privileges you'd never even thought of in your comfortable little life in sunny southern California. Steve was opening up a whole new world of options to you, and doing it so gracefully, and just because? It was the definition of being treated like royalty.

You were a logical woman, and you had a good hold of your emotions. You didn't often act "childish", but you felt like you were giving into those giddy girlish feelings that only Steve evoked. But you were still young, still someone who liked to have a good time. You didn't want to be in your feelings over material things, but it was so much more than that. You were grateful you were even getting to experience this, but even more grateful for the person who had given you this experience to begin with.

Eliza could see you were getting emotional, and placed a hand on your shoulder,

"Just sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride. We'll let you know when we take off in a few minutes."

You let out a deep breath. It was all sinking in. Somehow, this was your reality. You took a look around, and shrugged — you might as well take full advantage of it. You slumped your shoulders, dropped all your worries. You were in luxury - you'd act like it, and enjoy it, instead of overthinking for once. You walked into one of the lounge rooms, plopping down on a reclining chair that felt like heaven just to sit down in, sighing as you sunk into the supple plush. Still in awe, you texted Steve, expressing your disbelief and excitement all at once, sending him a video of your lush surroundings.

Steve grinned when he received the video from you, glad that you were enjoying your time. By how you reacted the other day, he was sort of afraid you might feel too overwhelmed and be unable to enjoy the experience. But all Steve really wanted was for you to have a good day, to feel like you were important. He could do that without getting you a big private jet, but if he was going to fly you out, he was going to fly you out. He didn't mind dropping a bag on you- for him it was nothing, Steve hardly touched his money. He wanted you to feel first class. Hell, this was higher than first class.

He texted you back, telling you he hoped you enjoyed and to text him if you needed anything. But honestly, you didn't think you'd need anything more.

You spent the remaining duration of the flight in the private bathroom, finishing your hair and makeup and choosing an outfit. You weren't stressing too hard over what to wear, but you wanted to look good for Steve. You settled on a white sundress with floral decals that accentuated your features just right. You stood in front of the mirror for a long time, checking yourself out. You knew you looked good, but you were just a bit nervous since you were landing in a few minutes now.

You tried to spend the time waiting for the plane to land by scrolling through your phone, but you found yourself switching mindlessly through apps, your mind blank except for one thing - Steve. Then, you heard the announcement saying that you had officially landed. You had noticed the jet getting lower, but you had been too distracted by your thoughts to notice that you were here. In New York, middle of the day, about to see him.

❁❁❁

Steve was just as nervous as you were, standing in the landing area, which again was empty and private, hands in his pockets as he rocked back and forth on his toes. He was really going to see you, and he knew you'd be everything he imagined and more. He had been waiting here for a good hour, because he didn't want to miss a thing, and now he knew he'd be seeing you in a few minutes, even a few seconds.

And when the door opened, and he saw the figure of you standing there at the entrance, he froze. Even from afar, you were beautiful. And you were real. Not that he'd had any doubts, but after the amount of time he'd spent talking to you on a screen, it seemed impossible that he would really see you in real life, even as he finalized his plans and the day came closer. It still didn't seem feasible. And now, here you were just a few feet away from him, and his heart stopped. Whatever he was expecting, you were even more, which seemed unimaginable. His mouth went dry, he was at a loss for words, and his eyes had never been more blown.

And you would've froze too, if your heart didn't tell you to run. To you, it was a clumsy, graceless run. To Steve it was cinematic, like you were the heroine running right out of the movie screen and towards him, the flash of you growing closer and closer until you were finally there, jumping up at him.

He caught you with ease as you leaned into him, wrapping your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck. You wondered if he could feel your heart beating against his own, or feel your chest pounding from all the nerves, all the excitement, from the feeling of true fulfillment. Because in front of you was your Steve Rogers, nothing less. You were feeling the same feelings of disbelief. After months of talking, weeks of planning this out, finally it had been manifested. Finally it had happened successfully, without interruption, and you were in front of each other.

You buried your face in his neck, taking in his scent - he smelled like fresh air and clean linen, and surprisingly... like home. And in his arms, you definitely felt like you were home. You actually felt comfortable, like you could trust him, like being in his arms was right, like you weren't moving too fast.

As much as you tried to imagine it, your thoughts couldn't come close to how strong Steve actually was, how much his arms wrapped around you with ease, holding you tight and close and secure, how big and powerful his body was against you. Like no matter what, you would mold into him perfectly, and he would just wrap you up and hold you like you were the best Christmas gift.

"Ooh, I wanna see your face," you took your face out of the crook of his neck, though you were quite comfortable there.

You pulled back to see him, your arms still around his neck, and he held onto you still, his entire face beaming while he took a good look at you as well. You let out a pleased sigh, a feeling lifting off of your chest like you'd been waiting for this and it had been hounding you - which wasn't far off from how you felt. You reached out and squeezed his cheeks in your hands, doing it without a second thought. It gave you no greater joy than to know that you could do that to him, that you were the only person who could do that to him.

"Oh, you're so beautiful," you sighed dreamily, looking into his sparkling blue eyes. You'd always loved looking at those eyes over Facetime calls.

You didn't think his eyes could be any bluer than they already appeared on screen. It felt so surreal, being with him. And in the midst of all the surreality, you were filled with an impenetrable bliss. It wasn't shocking, it was more like a dazed feeling, dreamlike. You got what you wanted, what you deserved.

Steve couldn't get enough of you, even with you right here in front of him, legs and arms wrapped around him. If it was possible, he was even more blissful than you right now. And it was a moment of pride for the both of you. Had you continued on in fear, not trusting each other, not trusting yourselves, this would've never happened. It was a huge accomplishment for the both of you.

Steve took in all of your features, and he couldn't deny that the glow you possessed in real life was even brighter than your glow on screen, the same thing that had drawn him to you that very first night. You were glowing, smiling the way you had been before. Just to see you, it was worth the wait. And the feeling of your soft fingers squishing his cheeks had him smiling like a little boy at a toy store.

His eyes drifted down to your glossy lips, which he couldn't wait to kiss, then your bright eyes, and he uttered,

"You're gorgeous, YN. I can't believe I'm finally seeing you. You're everything I imagined and more."

You couldn't believe the feeling that was in your heart, just from finally hearing his voice in real life. To Steve, your voice was like warm honey toast, alluring and adorable all at once. And his voice was music to your ears, that voice you dreamt of hearing. You couldn't believe anything you were feeling right now. It was nothing that you'd ever felt before, and it made tears well up in your eyes once again.

"This is so unreal. You're... here. You're holding me. I just got off a fucking private jet to meet you!" you squealed, recounting the events of the past few hours.

Steve chuckled,

"I'm still having trouble understanding that this is real."

"Doesn't get any realer than this, Steve," you smirked, although you felt the same way, and his knees nearly buckled at the way you said his name.

You slowly unwrapped your legs from his waist, and he supported your hips as he lowered you gently onto the ground. Your arms were still around his neck, and your body was still pressed against his, this time standing on the ground in front of him. Your knees felt bendy from how much you were leaning into him. But you didn't want to ever be any further from him.

He pulled you closer by the hips, as if you could get any closer,

"Mind saying my name again?"

"Hmm, Steve?" you cocked your head to the side as if you were trying to remember his name, and he chuckled, shaking his head as he looked at you.

Your personality was even more than he'd imagined, too.

"That's the one," he replied. He ran his hand along your face, caressing your jaw and cheek, sending tingles down your spine that he wasn't even aware of. "God, I can't get over you."

"Me either," your lips quirked up, and you hummed, incredibly intrigued as you noticed the light bristles of hair forming along his face. "Mmm!"

"What's that?"

“You're growing out your beard, huh?"

Steve absentmindedly stroked the beginnings of a beard that were growing, and you placed your hand over his own, guiding his hand against his chin and jaw. He relished the feeling of your hand over his.

"Trying to."

"You don't have to try. You're Steve Rogers. That beard'll grow like nobody's business," you chuckled, and he grinned at your fast remarks, blushing at the compliment.

"Steve!" you trilled, pleased to see this in real life, your eyes glimmering as you watched pink flood his cheeks. "You're blushing."

Steve bit down, and your eyes followed the place where his teeth sunk into his bottom lip. You both wanted to kiss each other, you both could hardly control the way your eyes lingered on one another's lips for far too long. But you were waiting for the time when it felt just right — after all, you were just now meeting each other. But somehow he knew already that you were just the person he needed in his life - playful, but one of the realest people he'd ever met. You balanced each other out perfectly.

"And you're gorgeous," Steve replied, looking you up and down unashamedly, admiring the way your simple yet pretty sundress clung to your body, highlighting your best features. "And you've been traveling for too long. Let's get you to the hotel, hmm?"

And just like that, you were settling into one another like clockwork, like this was natural despite how amazed you were by one another. He turned around, quick to put his arm over your shoulder to keep you close to him, leading you to the car. Your heart was still pounding hard and fast in your chest, your brain still scrambled even though you felt like you fit so naturally with him. He seemed so majestic up close, so much like the Captain America that everyone adored and revered. He was the walking definition of a picture perfect American Dream, a glint of hope that that dream still existed. You gained a newfound respect for him just by standing next to him, encapsulating all his undebatable glory. And in this moment, you had him all to yourself.

Steve felt a strange buzz, just from the friction of you being so close to him. Both your feelings of excitement seemed to create a high frequency vibration that you could literally feel. You were both anticipating what was next, and loving it because you knew you'd be together.

On the walk to the car, you couldn't help but gaze up at him the entire time in amazement, your eyes sparkling. Steve couldn't deny that he felt your eyes on him, but some part of him made him too shy to simply look down and make eye contact, because he knew he'd get lost in the moment and stare forever. He didn't want to scare you off. Still, that didn't mean that he didn't spare a few quick glances, followed by a quirk of his lip that was almost a smile, pulling you closer under his arm each time.

Steve opened the door for you and helped you up into the passenger's seat. He really didn't have to, but who were you to deny Steve picking you up as gently as he did, then placing you softly on the seat? He got into the driver's seat and started the car.

"Hope travel wasn't too bad," Steve offered- he was honestly trying to have natural conversation, but his nerves forced him to keep it to small talk.

Honestly, all he wanted to do was go on about how beautiful you were, how he was intimidated to even look at you too long, but he knew that would be weird.

You on the other hand, were nervous, but not to the point where you felt like you couldn't find the right words to say. You figured he'd just need to settle in, that he liked you just as much as he did on screen, but needed to adjust. The situation was new for the both of you, and Steve was really putting himself out there. Besides, even though you clicked, you had still just met each other.

The affection was there, but you knew it would take some prodding for Steve to really feel comfortable. You could tell he was sort of doubting himself like he often did, probably wondering if he was even fit for you. And you had no problem reminding him that he was more than fit. You laughed and shook your head, nudging Steve's arm playfully,

"Are you seriously making small talk right now? Also, you put me on a private jet. You tell me how you think my travel was."

Steve chuckled, a grin breaking out on his face as he began to feel more comfortable. Your playfulness, your honest sarcasm, honestly made him feel less hesitant. You joked with him like he was an old friend, and everytime you were sarcastic with him it actually uplifted him, reminded him who he was when he started to doubt himself and you had to give him reminders.

Your friendly demeanor made Steve feel more at ease. He just wanted you to like him. He wanted everything to be perfect, and he kept forgetting everything he'd learned - not to let fear get the best of him.

"You're right, you're right," Steve nodded, and you shook your head playfully, still looking over at him. He stopped at a red light, and finally looked over at you, locking eyes with you and taking his bottom lip in between his teeth.

"What?" you teased.

"Nothin'," Steve played along, grinning gently.

He jerked back to realization when a car honked from behind him — the light had gone green already and he was too busy smiling at you to notice. You stifled a chuckle, leaning back into your seat and looking out at the road before you while he drove forward, but he glanced at you, smirking because you weren't hiding your smile behind your hand well enough.

"What's so funny?" Steve chaffed, and you feigned oblivion, raising your brows and looking over at him,

"Hmm?"

"You heard me," Steve continued, all in good fun.

"Oh, so this is how we're gonna do this, huh?" you couldn't help but break out into laughter, unable to keep up the act for too long.

Steve shrugged,

"No clue what you're talking about."

"Okay, I'll bite. I think what might be funny is the fact that you can't keep your eyes off me and that's why you just got honked at for missing the green light? I don't know, I could be wrong, but!" you threw your hands up in the air, unable to fight the smile that spread on your face.

Steve blushed — he knew you'd noticed, but being put on the spot so unashamedly for his fixation for you made him feel bashful. Although it was a relief to see that you definitely liked his attention. And you kept him on his feet. Your energy was such a breath of fresh air. He was hardly thinking of his Avenger friends now, and his worries about things going wrong seemed to dissipate with every word you spoke, every glance you spared at him.

"You had to mention it," Steve sighed, and you giggled,

"I was gonna spare you! But you play dirtier than I expected."

You just sat there chuckling together, feeling the positive energy seep into the space. Steve definitely felt less nervous, and the banter opened up more space for developing your relationship.

You looked out the window, pressing your hand against it as you drove past new faces and places. You'd never been to New York before, unless a rest stop on a flight with your parents counted. But you'd never actually explored the city, big and flashy and somehow warm, inviting. Maybe it was because you were with Steve that New York felt comfortable and even homey, but you were a California girl at heart. You could stand being here for two weeks though, at least if it meant you got to be with Steve.

The city started to become less of a blur as you began passing by even bigger, more luxurious buildings and glamorous restaurants and clubs that were just waiting to be lit up come nighttime. Your eyes widened as you marveled at the tall buildings that yet again screamed wealth, and you wanted to ask Steve where exactly this hotel was.

"Think you could get used to New York?" Steve asked, practically reading your mind.

He knew how much you loved SoCal, and he just wanted to make sure this place wasn't too much of a culture shock for you. He wanted you to feel as comfortable as you could going from surfer paradise to concrete jungle.

You looked at him over your shoulder, and just the sight of you like that made his chest pang with desire.

"Oh yeah, New York's nice. You know, I used to think it was true that all New Yorkers were mean. But then I met you," you winked, and Steve nodded,

"Brooklyn kids do it best, what can I say?"

"So this is Manhattan," you replied, and Steve nodded again, pulling into an empty road and heading towards the back of a building which you hadn't seen in its entirety yet. But even looking at the deserted back, you could tell that the building was nice, and expensive too.

"Yep, Manhattan it is. And here we are," Steve chirped, seeming pleased to have gotten to the destination without interruption. He rubbed the nape of his neck, feeling sheepish again. "Sorry about this, we've gotta enter through the back. Less attention."

You could tell he was sort of feeling bad about this and you frowned, your brows knitting together.

"Steve," you said in the sternest voice you could manage. "Quit feeling bad. I literally have no complaints, as long as I'm with you. I get it, really."

Steve nodded, looking down at his lap. He knew you'd understand, you both discussed things like this in advance. But he didn't want you thinking he was ashamed of you at all. Some things just had to be kept secret, for sanity and for safety.

"Got it. I just want you to love it, that's all," Steve said, and his genuinity made your heart warm like it had just settled down and snuggled into a blanket in front of a crackling fireplace.

Steve got out of the car and was on the other side faster than you could even unbuckle, opening the door for you and holding his hand out for you to take.

"You're fast," you chuckled, taking his hand and stepping out, your dress flowing in the wind, an image that Steve kept locked in his mind.

He shrugged,

"Super soldier things."

He took you in through the back and checked the both of you in discreetly with an employee who had been waiting for you two. It all felt so exclusive and secretive, and made you a bit antsy to see the full extent, but you had no worries. You got on the elevator with Steve while a few employees took all your stuff up to the room, watching as all the floors passed by you in the glass elevator. It wasn't until you actually got to your floor, floor 31, that you even realized the full magic of the luxury hotel.

When you stepped out, your jaw dropped. Just the floor was the definition of luxury, and you hadn't even been inside the room yet. It was decked out in marble flooring, large windows all about for perfect lighting and an unbelievable view of the afternoon skyline. The decor was beautiful and the entire floor smelled like fragrant flowers. You weren't sure what was more impressive — this or the private jet. Steve noted how you literally stopped in your tracks, then turned around to face him with almost needy eyes, like you had to know if this was real.

"You're serious?" was all you could say.

"D'you like it?" Steve asked, leaning forward.

"It's amazing! I can't believe — Steve, I feel so bad," you said, your voice growing distant as you wandered the halls, straying away from the room.

He caught up fast, chuckling to himself as he gently grabbed onto your arm and looped it between his own, leading you in the right direction. Then he paused, standing in front of you and towering over you. You felt your entire being softening when he did that, it was like he was both dominating you and comforting you in the simplest of ways. You looked up at him with unintentionally coy eyes, glancing between his pink lips and his ocean eyes.

"Hey. Don't feel bad. I'll say it as many times as it needs to be said — I want to do this for you. It's no trouble for me," he shrugged, and usually you would've made some remark about him implying that he was rich, but the way he was standing over you right now rendered you speechless.

You felt like you had melted into a big ice cream puddle and all you could do was nod slowly and look up at him with dopey, wide eyes and set lips.

"Okay," you uttered, your voice faint, and before you knew it he was leaning over you and bear hugging you, throwing all of himself (not all, because he would literally crush you) into the hug and just wrapping his arms around you.

Even though you'd been close to each other since you met, and onscreen you'd been closer than you could even imagine, this felt like the most intimate you'd been since meeting each other in real life. You felt protected and safe in this moment. You liked how Steve hadn't gotten tired of you despite having to remind you that this wasn't any trouble for him and that you shouldn't feel bad for being spoiled by someone who liked you and wanted to do it for you. You were overwhelmed by his scent and the warmth of his strong body.

When he pulled away you felt weak with endearment, and that ice cream puddle feeling hadn't gone away. Of course, Steve hardly noticed the effect he had on you, and just took your hand in his and led you to the room. This initiation of holding hands had both your hearts pounding — any physical touch did. His hands were big and muscular, and your hand fit in just perfectly.

"And here we are," Steve opened the door wide, leading to the unbelievable room.

It was more like an entire house, actually. A penthouse, to be specific. You were surrounded by glass windows that once again offered a view of the whole city. The suite was the perfect mix of contemporary and minimalist. It was luxurious, but not too stark, comfortable enough that you could actually sleep there and not feel like you were sleeping in in some strange utopia. You couldn't help but explore immediately, trying to see everything, like it was sand falling from between your fingers much too fast.

There was a bedroom with the biggest king sized bed you'd ever seen, a bright and airy bathroom with a freestanding white marble tub and a clear glass shower that faced a window, a kitchenette with a fully set up bar, and a huge living room with a near movie sized TV screen. There was even a balcony with stone flooring, a jacuzzi and a plethora of lounge chairs, not to mention another bar.

Hell, you couldn't keep up with all the things you were seeing, racing around the penthouse suite and trying to wrap your mind around it. Steve had done enough to show you that you shouldn't doubt it or feel guilty about being around such opulence for a day, but you were damn amazed.

Steve just followed you as you raced around, laughing to himself at your reactions to everything and your utter disbelief. It was wholesome, and a reminder of the fact that even though you had a good head on your shoulders, at heart you were a blossoming young woman who had never experienced these things before.

"Steve," you groaned, falling back onto the plush bed, which was perfectly made up. You felt dizzy.

"Yeah doll?" he asked, and you smiled, suddenly feeling eager to hear the nickname again. It made such a difference to hear it in person.

"This is amazing. I could kiss you," you said nonchalantly, then held yourself up on your forearms and looked up at him.

He was too busy being shy again, turning away slightly and kicking at the ground. He knew he looked ridiculous, but you were amused. You knew exactly the effect you had on him, you always had. But seeing it up close and personal was somehow even better. Half the time you didn't even mean to purposefully tease him. He got bashful all on his own, just a reminder of the power he knew you had over him in that sense.

You smirked, just watching him try to get his act together again.

"Ahh, thanks, YN. I'm glad you like it."

You sighed, still laying back and making a snow angel with just your arms against the bedsheets.

"You know, if you do want me to be your sugar baby..." you trailed off, clearly joking.

Steve shook his head playfully,

"You're a handful, you know that?"

"Of course!" you quipped, and sprung up, sitting upright on the bed, dangling your feet above the floor. "So, what do you wanna do?"

"Well, I had a few things planned, but it's really up to you."

"Yeah? Like what?" you chirped, and Steve grinned at your voice and how intrigued you sounded.

"Uh, well. There's a spa on this floor as well. Private, of course. I gotta say, I'm not great at relaxing, or being touched by strangers."

"Steve," you whined, reaching out for his hand and cupping it between both your hands. "You don't have to force yourself to do anything. But you do deserve to relax. This is as much for you as it is for me. I mean, you put this all together, I can't thank you enough. Least you could do is get a massage."

Steve was endeared by your sentiment, and you were right. He needed to relax. He definitely was not as uptight as he was before he even knew of you, but he was still usually in a work mode. You'd only be at this hotel for one night, and it was only right that you both take full advantage of its amenities. After all, it was luxury for a reason. You were here to be pampered and be together.

"Yeah..." Steve looked down at where your hands were cupped over his, and smiled fondly. "You're right. I'm real good at being stressed out."

"I know," you kneaded his hands. "But I can help you relieve that stress."

You bit down on your lip, knowing that could mean so many different things, but here you really had innocent intentions, your face brightening up as you got an idea.

"Okay. So you want to relax, but not while a stranger is touching you," you restated, and Steve nodded with a hum. "I have an idea."

| | |

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?" Steve chuckled as you flitted around him like a fairy, getting everything together.

About an hour later, once your stuff had been returned to the room and you had both settled in just a bit more, you were practically dragging Steve out of the room and to the spa area where you'd carry out your idea. Your request was simple when you'd called the spa over the phone in your suite: you wanted all the material there, but no employees. That way it'd be more personal — how hard could it be to do the same things that the staff did? It wasn't defeating the purpose if it meant you got to bond alone.

"Uh, I mean I've never done this before but I usually know what I'm doing, so I'm gonna go with yes," you answered, probably more sure of yourself than Steve was.

"I trust you," Steve smiled.

"Smart choice," you smirked, looking at him from over your shoulder. "Okay, I think everything's ready. The question is - are you?"

"I don't know, am I?" Steve cocked his head, eyeing you as you got everything ready, admiring you once again.

"Not in that, you're not," you said, gesturing to the loose fitting t-shirt he still had on.

You said it casually, but truthfully, the pace of your heartbeat was quickening, thinking of actually seeing him take his shirt off. You had a lot more experience than Steve, so it wasn't like it was some new and strange experience, but the thought of seeing even more of Steve made you nervous.

"Oh. Do I just-" Steve gazed up at you, raising his brows.

"Mhm," you hummed quietly, biting down on your lip and watching him.

Steve felt nerves too for the same reason as you, but not because he was insecure with his body, so he lifted his shirt up with ease and placed it on the bed beside him. The silence felt deafening as he looked up at you and gauged your reaction. And honestly, you were just standing there looking at him, your lips pursed and your chest visibly rising up and down as you switched from automatic breathing to manual.

You didn't have a huge preference for body type, but Steve was certainly a force to be reckoned with, big and hulking both with and without a shirt. You noticed the pleased, expectant expression on Steve's face and came back to earth, blinking away all the thoughts that flooded your mind.

"Okay!" you practically gasped out, all the breath you were holding in leaving you at once. "You can lay back. And um, I'll just-"

Steve lay back and you approached the massage table, your breath hitching in your throat as you climbed up quickly and got on top of him, placing your legs on either side of him so you were straddling him. And don't get it wrong, you were confident. You put your body out there almost every night for hundreds of strangers, and that definitely boosted your sexuality in real time. It wasn't hard for you to perform suggestive acts or use your sensuality, but actually touching Steve felt so sacred — like you both wanted every touch to be precise. You had the chemistry online, it was just a matter of how the chemistry progressed face to face, sinking into the reality that felt so surreal.

Steve put his hands on your hips to steady you and your body twitched just slightly, Steve looking up at you with innocent, inexperienced eyes.

It was quiet now, and you focused on the task at hand, Steve's hands dropping to his sides while you diligently went to work. You spread oil on your hands and reached down to touch Steve's face, a small smile on your concentrated face. You were paying more attention to your hands, but Steve was looking right up at you, admiration full in his eyes, a small smile on his face. He was letting you do the work, lightly massaging oil onto Steve's face, keeping your fingers gentle and your pace slow and relaxing.

You were focused, but certainly, you couldn't help but be hyper aware of the fact that you were literally on top of Steve while he had no shirt on (and looked damn good without it). The innocuous yet obvious sensuality of the moment stirred the both of you. But rather than act upon it, you let it stay innocent. Steve cherished the feeling of your fingers lightly tapping and massaging against his face. You may not have been a licensed massage therapist, but you knew what you were doing.

"You sure you haven't done this before?" Steve uttered, his words almost slurred from how relaxed he was.

"One hundred percent," you offered a tiny smile, your face hovering just over Steve's, locking eyes with him. Your voice was gentle and soft. "Close your eyes for me."

Steve was entranced, fully into this experience, and honestly probably because it was you doing it. Had it been anyone else, he probably would've been squirming around, because he didn't know how to relax. But you were his oasis. A smile cracked out onto your lips at the sight of Steve underneath you with his eyes closed, totally relaxed. You'd hoped this would be the result. And you couldn't help but knead your fingers a little extra when you got down to his chest, still mind boggled by his muscles.

"Just let me know if it feels alright," you said, your voice just above a whisper as you placed hot stones carefully on Steve's face and massaged his skin with them. "That okay?"

"Hmm," Steve hummed affirmatively in response.

You watched as his chest rose and fell at a steady, relaxed rate, completely at ease. Every once in a while, he let out a sigh or a quiet groan that made your breath hitch in your throat. But again, you let it stay innocent. It was just Steve's luck that you didn't notice, or feel the tent that was growing in his pants just from the touch of your hands against his face. It was just that good.

When you were done, you didn't have the heart to tell him it was over. He seemed to have no complaints though, although he knew he could stay like this for much longer. His hands gripped your wrists, then he slid his fingers in between yours, cupping your hands together by his sides. You beamed down at him, amused at the way his eyes seemed glazed over and totally blissed out.

"How was it!" you exclaimed, excited to see how pleased he was.

"YN," he massaged his thumb into the nook of your hand. "I think you're actually good at everything you do."

You shook your head and Steve rolled his eyes.

"You're being modest," he said with a wave of his hand. "Now, what can I do for you? Because that was incredible."

"Steve, no way. You're not doing a thing for me. You've done... more than enough."

"I appreciate that, doll, but you do know this is mutual. If you hadn't already gotten your nails done," Steve flopped your hand up playfully, and you giggled, "I would try. I guess it's best that you've already got them done, though. Don't know how accurate my nail painting would be. But I could give you a massage, or try my hand at a facial."

You hopped off of Steve and the massage table, bouncing up and down slightly on the floor,

"Steve, as much as I adore that idea, I'm solely focused on making you feel relaxed right now. Though, if you really want to do something for me, you could... get in the pool?"

You skipped backwards, and pulled off the loungewear you'd changed into for the spa, clad in a bra and underwear beneath. You simply winked while Steve sat upright, eyes widening at the sight of you half naked in front of him. Sure, it was technically the same as a bikini, but just seeing you like that unexpectedly made him start. You couldn't be anymore coquettish right now, flaunting your body with a twirl before you jumped into the pool.

You disappeared for a few moments, then swam back up to the top, pushing back the water that speckled your face with your hands. Steve found his mouth going dry - you were so beautiful and alluring without even trying to be. He stood up and walked over to the edge of the pool, glaring down at you while you gazed up at him with playful, inviting eyes.

"You're gorgeous," was all Steve could manage to utter out, kneeling slightly so he was more at level with you.

You bit down on your lip and gestured for Steve to come closer, enticing him with your beguiling eyes. You placed your hand on his face, wet hand against his firm jaw, and pulled his head closer as if—

Then, a loud splashing sound and the feeling of being submerged in water as Steve fell in. He swam back up to the top easily, pushing his hair back and wiping water away from his eyes as he regained his bearings. The accomplished grin on your face told him all he needed to know, and he lunged forward, grabbing you in his arms with ease and lifting you up, your back against his chest.

"You're gonna pay for this, you know that?" he scolded you playfully, and you laughed giddily, your vision blurred as Steve spun you around against him in the water, unable to withhold your delirium.

"I knew you wouldn't get in unless I forced you in! You think I don't know you by now?" you cackled, trying and failing to free from his grasp.

He let you go, but that didn't mean he wasn't right up on you, looming over you in the pool and pressing up against you, your bodies flush with one another. You were still laughing, but that feeling was coming back again, that feeling that you were melting once more.

"I'm not gonna forget this," Steve warned, pursing his lips in a triumphant smirk.

"If I could dunk you, I would," you narrowed your eyes at him, pressing your finger into his chest.

"Oh my god, would you look at that?" Steve questioned sarcastically, picking you up by the waist without trouble and placing your legs around his neck, falling back deep into the water as if you had actually dunked on him.

You managed to open your eyes under the pool water, blinking excessively but catching a long glimpse at Steve, who was pressed beneath you. You grinned and swam up to the surface, Steve following short after.

"Why, I never!" you pressed your hand against your chest, gasping dramatically. "Steve, you slick debonair. Did you just use that as an excuse to have my legs around your neck?"

Steve, who had thought nothing of it, was now wide-eyed and gulping, his mind traveling to a sinful place — particularly, the place between your thighs.

He handled it with grace though, raising a brow and cocking his head,

"Don't think I'll need an excuse."

This time it was your turn to react, your mouth dropping open into a small o shape. Steve had even shocked himself. But you were really getting comfortable with one another, and he was just catching up to your pace.

"I..." you didn't even know what to say, because just like Steve you were lost in thought as well, blinking and smiling blankly. You glared at him in a lighthearted manner. "You win that one. But you're a bad man."

"Am I?" Steve chuckled, his voice deep and playful.

"You're a bad man who puts me on a private jet and takes me to a very bougie hotel. Honestly, you're horrible," you joked.

"You're right. They should take away my shield."

You spent at least an hour in the pool, fucking around and just having fun, Steve placing you on his shoulders and swimming as fast as he could from one end of the pool to the other. You continuously tried to dunk and or splash each other, and you kept getting closer than any of you two could handle, then not actually doing anything about it.

You were beginning to prune up though, so each of you quickly rinsed off using the shower at the spa, then walked back to the room, wrapped up in towels. But you realized that you hadn't seen anyone else, not even in passing. When you asked Steve about it, he very nonchalantly mentioned that he had the whole floor blocked off for them specifically to guarantee maximum privacy and comfort. Yet another thing he did that was so mind blowing to you.

"You hungry?" Steve asked. "I ordered room service for dinner."

It was getting darker outside, you had noticed, and nightfall was quickly approaching. Your mind wandered to thoughts of a romantic, private dinner with Steve, and you sighed in ecstasy. This day was literally perfect. You were more rejuvenated than you had ever been, and back at home rejuvenation and selfcare was a mighty big investment of yours. The fact that Steve could top that just by being him, was astounding.

"I could eat," you grinned, sitting down on the bed at peace. You had changed back into your loungewear, and Steve still stood in front of you without a shirt on.

He felt your eyes on him and his cheeks flushed, his jaw ticking.

"I'll go put on some clothes," he decided, and you sprawled out on the bed, starfishing.

"Oh, you don't have to," you joked lazily, closing your eyes.

"Ha-ha," Steve bleated, changing into a shirt anyway.

By the time Steve changed, room service was knocking at the door. You watched as Steve led them outside and set up himself. Although you insisted that you help, he practically commanded that you stay inside. And when he used that voice, he didn't have to tell you twice. You pulled out your vanity mirror, checking your appearance while you waited for Steve, and you frowned because you hadn't thought to change into nice clothes and put on some makeup for dinner. You figured it was principal, and you always wanted to look your best around him anyway.

Steve came back inside and caught you frowning at yourself in the vanity mirror. Without even thinking he commented,

"You look amazing."

You raised a doubtful brow and looked over at him,

"I think I still smell like chlorine."

Steve shook his head, a smile appearing on his lips. As confident as you were, you were being so critical of yourself right now. He didn't care what you were wearing - as long as he got to be with you, he didn't mind.

"Chlorine just happens to be my favorite fragrance. Come on," he nodded towards the doors that opened up to the balcony where he set up the dinner for you.

You got up out of bed, tugging down your loose cotton shorts, and walked over to Steve, who immediately put his hand around your waist and guided you to the dinner table. You glanced up at him, pleasantly surprised yet again. The set up was simple, the table decorated with small candles and a vase of roses as the centerpiece, a bucket full of ice and a bottle of Moet at the edge of the table. And of course, a plate of your favorite food on your side. Jazzy music played softly in the background.

You turned up to face Steve, snuggling up to his body and placing your hand on his chest.

"Steve, this is so beautiful," you cooed, then glanced back at the table — he could've easily had this all set up by staff, but all he did was have them bring the food, the rest he set up for himself.

"You like it?" he asked, his heart beaming all because you were happy with it. Steve may not have been the kind of guy to go all out very often, but when he did, he did it right. This had just the personal touch that it needed.

"I love it," you broke free from his grasp and skipped over to the roses, your fingers softly grazing over the petals.

You had been close to crying a couple of times today, but now you were dangerously close, and you couldn't help the tears that fell from your eyes this time around. This gesture was probably the simplest that Steve had shown this whole day, but it touched your heart the most. The private jet and the nice hotel were definitely nice touches, but they didn't mean anything if there weren't any feelings there. And Steve was doing everything in his power to show how much he cared for you, something that you weren't used to most people even bothering to do.

Steve saw that you were crying and rushed over to you immediately, frowning,

"Is everything okay?"

You laughed tearfully, wiping away your tears with the back of your hands,

"No one's ever done anything this nice for me, that's all. It feels really... special."

Steve smiled sadly. Your reactions were so wholesome, yet from a place of so much hurt, and it showed the elements of your past that you had recounted to him. Steve wasn't trying to make you forget about your past or make up for it, but he wanted to put the work in to show that you deserved so much more. It was just who he was.

"First time for everything, huh?"

"Yeah," you crooned, sniffling.

Steve gave you a pat on the back and put his arm around your hip as he led you to your side of the table, pushing out the chair for you and letting you sit down. He sat down too, and you almost instantly grabbed the champagne bottle, Steve smirking at your eagerness.

You giggled, biting down on your lip,

"I have to do something for you."

"Wrong, but I won't complain," Steve laughed, shaking his head playfully.

You opened the champagne bottle with a pop, and let the fizz pour out into your glass before you carefully poured a glass for the both of you, reaching carefully across the table. You sucked gently at the side of your finger, and placed the bottle back inside the bucket.

Both you and Steve raised your glasses, and you made a toast as you clinked them together,

"To us!"

"To us," Steve repeated softly, gazing at your face, shining in the candlelight.

You took a sip and started eating, the both of you quiet for a few moments before Steve spoke up.

"It's still so unbelievable that this is all happening," he blinked, wanting to lean back and just get a good look at you.

"In a good way, right?" you smirked, taking another sip of your drink.

"Oh, the best way possible. It's indescribable, the feeling I got from seeing you. It's still there," Steve huffed, and you cocked your head at him, your lips turning up into a gentle smile.

"I know. Me too," your eyes scanned his face, strong and handsome and illuminated by the candles lit in front of him.

"I know it's been hard for me to open up... to you, especially. I was just so hesitant because I've never really felt the things that you made me feel, and I was afraid because we didn't know each other, you know? You were just a girl on a screen in the beginning, yet I thought of you all the time. I was thinking, Steve, you can't let this happen. I thought it was unbecoming of me, starting to feel things for a stranger."

You listened, glad to hear Steve finally opening up, but you joked,

"Yeah. It doesn't quite fit your job description."

Steve laughed, rubbing his temples as he leaned back,

"Yeah, not quite. It was sort of a shock for me. I was scared of the possibilities. And it was hard for me to understand my own feelings, you know? I shut down when things felt too serious. And I know I was stupid for it looking back, but... in the moment I was just overwhelmed. Opening up to someone I didn't know like that, getting into that territory, it... scared me. And the feelings I started having for you, jeez. I hadn't had those feelings in a while. And I'd only ever had them for one person. It was so hard for me to wrap my head around."

You listened to Steve, taking in his every word. Even as you got closer, Steve didn't open up as much as you did, and you hadn't minded that because he was always listening to you and talked with you about anything. So to hear this was eye opening and helped you understand more why he operated the way he did. So you just listened, leaning in and nodding, your cheek against your palm.

"Ahh, I'm just old," Steve shook his head, and you perked up, your brows knit together.

"No! Well, technically speaking, yes. But no! You are not 'just old.' Your feelings are valid. And I understand, because I felt the same way, almost. It was weird opening up to you, and I got those weird feelings too, but I didn't give in because... I had to stay safe, you know? I can't be falling for my clients. But when I realized who you were, even though it was a shock, it... things came together. It made sense. Suddenly, you weren't just some random, you were you. If it were anybody else, nothing would've come of it. That's why I let it happen. I decided to try my hand at trusting you, and so did you. And I mean, it's a good thing we did, right?"

"Otherwise, none of this would've happened," Steve nodded, and you both grinned at each other.

"Yeah. So don't be so hard on yourself," you wagged your finger at him, and Steve chuckled, shaking his head- you weren't going to let him pass with anything, and he liked that about you. "We all have a long ways to go with our growth, but it's happening. You just have to let it."

"You're right. It feels hard to fit in, you know? I've been here about a decade now, and it's still so... I guess I'm still finding my way around. Don't know if that makes any sense, but I'm trying to fit in," Steve replied, his voice deep and almost sorrowful.

You pouted slightly, reaching your hand out and cupping it over Steve's,

"It makes sense."

You truly felt for him. You knew his story, everyone did. But they didn't know the intimate, personal details of it. They didn't know how Steve felt being a walking experiment in this modern world. Maybe if they did, the world might be a lot less harsh to him. You didn't want to fix him, but you wanted to be there for him - make the sharp edges of new life softer, dim down the starkness of modernity.

You talked about a multitude of topics over the course of the dinner, things that made you emotional, things that made you both burst out into laughter, menial things and profound discussions. But anything you talked about, anything you had to say to each other, just filled you both up to the brim with gleeful warmth. You were just truly soaking in the moment with each other, enjoying being alone together. The evening was filled with lingering eye contact, brushes against the other's hand, and laughter.

By the time Steve had gotten behind the bar, trying his hand at making drinks like it was nothing, you found yourself feeling like you were ready to wind down. You were warm from wine and other alcoholic drinks Steve had mixed, and jet lag was catching up to you. Though you wanted to stay up all night, you wanted to be refreshed the next morning.

You retired inside to go take a shower, feeling only slightly tired because the beautiful night with Steve kept you exhilarated. The bathroom was spacious and expensive, you could spend hours in there just sitting on the sink and thinking. You got undressed and got into the shower, the warm water running along your body, washing away the travels of the day, the hot pulsating jets of water relaxing your muscles. It was much bigger and fancier than your shower back at home, that was for sure.

As you let the water rush over your body, you started to reflect on the entire day. This day had been full of first times for you, first feelings, first experiences. You were in awe, but it evoked deep feelings that seemed to be getting coaxed out of your stomach. This deep feeling that there was still more to be uncovered, that there would always be more. It wrecked you — gave you anxiety and nerves like nobody's business. But it also calmed you, knowing that you were with the right person for there to be more. You wouldn't be snatching for more at the bottom of an empty, loveless hole in the ground with no one or nothing to water you. And the best part of it was that the feeling didn't come with the kind of fear that made you want to stop. You wanted to keep going. Everything was beautiful so far. Although you knew it wouldn't always be one hundred percent perfect if you kept going indefinitely, you were enjoying the moment now. The present.

Meanwhile, Steve was sitting on his side of the bed, looking down at the floor and kneading his palm with his other hand. He was thinking deeply, all good thoughts, and all about you. He just wanted to keep making everything perfect for you, for the both of you. And he was coming to the realization that perfectness wasn't realistic, that it would actually be worse than authenticity. But like you, he was enjoying the paradise you were sharing with each other. He was trying to keep himself in the present, which was so difficult for Steve, whose job was to solve problems and think of the future. But when it came to you, he would take that chance willingly.

You also thought of Aaliyah in the shower, thinking of how happy she'd be if she knew what was going on. You thought you should tell her soon, but you also knew no matter how much you wanted to, you had to take it slow. As you stepped out of the shower and dried off, you had nothing but positive thoughts in your mind — there was no one in your life who you held ill bearings for, not even your parents. It seemed that once you took that initiative to focusing on yourself, everything and everybody else seemed to fall into place.

You used a towel, then wrapped a plush white robe around yourself, tying it at your waist. When you came out of the bathroom, you were still slightly damp, and drops of water sprinkled your bare, dewy skin. You knew you probably looked pretty raw, but not because you were bare-faced, more because you were fresh out of the shower.

You were dabbing at your face with the corner of the robe as you stood against the doorway that connected the bathroom to the bedroom.

"Steve, can you pass me my clothes?" you asked, nodding over to your fresh change of clothes on the bed.

"Sure," he said, thinking nothing of it and reaching behind himself to get your clothes.

But when he turned back, something on his face had changed, as if he were stumped by the sight in front of him. His mouth had dropped open slightly and he sort of goggled at you in amazement. He didn't bother to get your clothes, because there was only one thing on his mind as he stood up, looking very determined.

You were slightly confused, but couldn't find the words to ask him what was going on, because there he was towering over you again, without any desire to intimidate you but succeeding in doing so anyway. Only, it wasn't a bad kind of intimidation. You looked up at him with innocent doe eyes, tilting your head slightly upwards to him. As you realized what was happening, you couldn't help the way your eyes flickered from his lips to his own eyes, inviting him in. You were almost daring him, egging on the feeling of burning desire that flooded the dimly lit hotel room.

The mere sight of you amazed him all the time, but in this moment, Steve had been thrown off guard. It was perplex to him, how you could appear so beautiful to him without even trying to. Your beauty was not subtle, it was loud even when you were fresh out the shower, no makeup on, completely stripped down. It drove Steve crazy, seeing you standing there with wet hair, and a face that had drops of water still running down your cheeks to the inside of your robe where your naked body was concealed.

It was so silent, and Steve was so close to you, you swore you could hear your heart beating. And then, he did what he had been waiting the whole day to do, what you had been wanting to do the entire day, and leaned down, kissing you.

And when your lips finally met, it was like nothing you'd felt before. Even if you weren't so close, you were so sure that the electrifying feeling that surged through your entire body would've emanated off of you. It was like your body heat was combined in this moment, like you were molded into each other like a perfect ceramic sculpture. As if time decided to slow down just for you two, leaving space for only the two of you to exist together in this moment. And nothing else mattered, nothing except the feeling of Steve's lips against yours, parted and warm, like they belonged against you.

The kiss was soft, but passionate and full of burning desire. You fell into the kiss naturally, closing your eyes instantly. You weren't sure if this was just a fever dream of yours, if maybe you'd been asleep for a very long time and dreamed up the past few months, all building up to this moment when you'd finally wake up. Or maybe you'd passed out in the hot shower and you were just dreaming this. But you didn't wake up. Your eyes remained gently closed as you kept on kissing him. Steve couldn't fathom the feelings he got from finally feeling your lips against his own.

The desire to kiss you had been building up the whole day, but when he saw you just now, he couldn't restrain himself any longer. You hadn't kissed each other the whole day although you wanted to, because it didn't feel right just yet. You wanted the moment to be right. And even though it was sudden for the both of you, it just fit. It was spontaneous and a touch born out of yearning.

You overpowered his senses. Even after your shower, every breath he took smelled like California sunshine and the salty spritz of ocean waves, and that natural ambrosial scent that you seemed to achieve without perfume. Every touch he felt was you, his hands digging into your waist, your plump lips, your hands exploring his shoulders and the nape of his neck. The taste of your wet lips. Everything was you.

He could've lasted longer, but you needed to take a breath, though you wished you could stay like this forever. You just kissed Steve Rogers. And it was nothing like you imagined, because nothing you imagined could compare to this. You took in a deep breath, feeling your entire body warm up just from the buzzing aftermath sensation of the kiss and the art that was looking into his eyes, which seemed to be an even deeper blue than before.

Steve looked you up and down, then couldn't help but smile, breaking out of the very serious air he had just entered upon seeing you. He laughed, a deep chuckle that sent shivers running down your very body. You laughed too, and you nudged Steve playfully. He brought those nerves out of you that nobody else could. You had plenty of experience, but Steve made you feel so much.

"I wasn't expecting that, sir," you quipped, and he grinned down at you,

"But did you like it?"

"You're a doofus," you shook your head, pushing him gently. Your voice became a whisper and you reached up, pulling him close by the collar of his t-shirt, your eyes boring into his. "I loved it."

You kissed him again, hard and sweet but short, then practically pushed him away, sauntering away into the bed before you, and getting your clothes, teasing him about how he just wanted to get you naked before you changed in the bathroom. You then emerged, climbing beneath the bedsheets and propping your head up against a pillow. It was then that you really thought of the fact that you'd be sharing a bed with Steve, but at this point, it seemed expected.

Steve was still recovering from the second kiss, then practically twirled around on his feet to face you, a dazed grin on his face, getting into the bed himself.

"Let's watch a movie, hmm?" you suggested, looking up at him. "Till we fall asleep."

"Sounds good to me."

You sighed in pleasure, scooting closer to Steve and snuggling into the crook of his outstretched arm as he turned on the TV and put on a random movie for you two to watch, one that wasn't too hard for you to follow. You were stealing glances at him the whole time anyway, and he was too. The movie was the last thing on your minds, but it just filled up the time until one of you fell asleep, and made for distracted conversation about the plot, one of you making comments followed by a hum from the other. You on the other hand, barely lasted ten minutes, falling asleep almost immediately. Steve turned off the TV and the light beside him, glancing over at you as your eyes fluttered closed. You were such a sleeping beauty, all he could do was look at you. You fell asleep and turned absentmindedly on your side, posted up like the little spoon, cuddling into him.

Steve turned on his side too, your back against his front. He let you snuggle into him, but was unsure of what to do himself. He had never shared his bed, and the way you cuddled into him made him swallow hard. How did he follow suit? Would you want him to?

But after a good look at you, unable he slowly put his arm around you, hesitantly placing his hand at your waist, letting it tumble over onto your stomach. In your sleep you put your hand over his, snuggled closer and held onto his arm. Reassured, he settled into the position with ease, falling asleep faster than he ever had in years.

Dreaming of you.

eeep did y’all love it?!?!?! share ur thoughts ~! ily <3

adding tags in a few mins ♡

#girls on film #orbitariums #steve rogers #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers reader insert #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x y/n #yn #marvel #marvel imagine #marvel series #smut #marvel smut #marvel reader insert #captain america #captain america x reader #captain america x you

206 notes · View notes

viking-raider · 4 years

Text

Wing-Dog *Fic Request*

Summary: You’ve heard of a Wing-Man? Well, Kal Cavill is a Wing-Dog! You’re hired to watch Kal, while Henry films the second season of The Witcher, and in true Wing-Dog fashion, Kal has plans for you and Henry.

Pairing: Henry Cavill/Reader

Word Count: 2,443

Rating: G for Fluff, Kal Fluff, Doggo cuteness

Inspiration: Request by @romyr4

Author’s Note: Romyr messaged me this request and it’s been on my mind ever since! Kal is such a special part in Henry’s life, that if Kal took to someone so much, Henry probably would too.

Tag List: @jennylovelyheart, @peakygroupie, @jessevans @MITZWINCHESTER @rosie-loves-things, @ohjules, @mary-ann84, @omgkatinka, @hm-fck, @the-freak-cassie-131, @heelsamizayn, @agniavateira, @cap-barnes, @romyr4, @michelehansel, @katiebriggs004-blog

“Henry, this is y/n.” The producer introduced the pair of you on the set of the new season of the Witcher. “She's the one your agent asked us to hire, to watch Kal while you're filming.” She explained, smiling between the pair of you. “Y/n, this is Henry.”

“Obviously.” You chuckled, extending your hand to the actor. “It's a pleasure to meet you.”

“You as well.” Henry nodded, shaking your hand. “Do you have experience with large breed dogs, like Kal?” He asked, sounding like the protective dog dad he came off as.

“I know a lot about them.” You assured him, nodding back. “I've had large breed dogs all my life, and I am the one that takes care of them at the veterinary and doggy daycare business, I work for.”

“So, you're a Vet as well?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Vet tech,” You corrected him, carefully. “I'm still going to school to become a full blown Vet.” You explained to him. “I have another year of school.” You added, knowing that was probably going to be the next question out of his mouth.

“You are a little dinky, for Kal.” Henry replied, crossing his arms over his chest, but the smile and spark in his eyes told you he was teasing you, making you blush.

“If I can throw down with a fully grown, two hundred pound, male Great Dane, I'm sure I can survive Kal's buck thirty.” You countered, giving Henry a mischievous smirk.

Henry nodded his head, impressed. “We'll see.” He told you, turning. “I'll go get him.”

“How did you throw down with a Great Dane?” the Producer asked, looking at you, surprised.

“I rode it like a horse.” You joked, making them laugh. “No, it's just about knowing how to stop them.” You told her, pulling a treat out of you pocket. “Works, every time.”

“We'll see, cause here comes the Bear.” The producer said, seeing Kal running at the pair of you, full sprint.

“Aww, he's beautiful.” You commented, changing your stance and then held up the treat in your hand, making Kal slide to a halt and sit inches in front of you. “You're an incredibly good sitter too.” You added to him, giving him the treat and a pat on the head. “Good enough for you?” You asked, looking up at Henry, who stood several feet away, shock on his face.

“That's all I need to know.” Henry nodded, closing his mouth. “I do have conditions,” He told you, coming to stand behind Kal. “I want a photo of him every couple of hours, just to make sure he's all right, and a text, if you take him anywhere off the lot.”

“That's fair and very doable.” You nodded, meeting his eyes.

“Great.” Henry felt good leaving Kal with you, while he worked. “This is my phone number.” He swapped numbers with you, and handed you Kal's leash. “I'll text you, when I'm finished working.”

“Aye aye, Witcher.” You giggled as Henry walked away to hair and make-up. “So, Kal, what do you wanna do?” You asked, smiling down at the black and white Bear.

“Kal!” Henry yelled as the Akita took off around his trailer.

“Bear!” You yelled back, as Kal jumped up on you, excitedly.

“I swear, sometimes it seems he's more excited to see you, than he is to see me.” Henry commented, coming around the trailer to greet you.

“He knows who has all the treats.” You laughed, as Kal sniffed at the zipped up treat pouch on your hip. “Good morning, Henry.” You said, finally greeting the Brit.

“Good morning, y/n.” He greeted you back, smiling softly. “I'll let you two do whatever it is, the two of you do all day.” He said, patting Kal on the head and walking off.

“I got something for you.” You said to Kal, after Henry had gone.

You lead Kal over to your trailer, disappearing inside for a moment and came back out with a ball. You'd been taking care of Kal for just over two months, and in that time, he'd destroyed nearly every ball he'd gotten his jaws on. But, after talking to one of the other Vet Techs, you'd found this ball, that was meant to be indestructible. But, you'd find out if it really was, in the next couple of days that Kal had it.

“You ready?” You asked him, grinning to see his eye glued to the solid, red rubber ball, and bark. “See what you got?” You said, and took off running, making him chase after you.

You laid down in the grass panting as your two hour alarm went off. It was you, that was supposed to be getting Kal exercise and tired out, but it was completely the other way around. He nudged at your head with his cold wet nose, drooling on you as his tongue hung out the side of his gaping mouth. You patted the ground next to you, and Kal obediently laid down beside you, rolling onto his back for dramatic affect.

“You're just mocking me now.” You teased him, digging into your pocket for your phone and turning the camera on. “Say Treats for Daddy!” You said, tilting your head towards Kal's and snapped the photo Henry wanted every two hours.

Henry's phone vibrated on his set chair, and he picked it up between takes. Opening his messages, he grinned at the photo you'd just sent him, you looking totally beat, and Kal looking like he was have a blast, and could go a few miles more.

“Who's babysitting who?” Henry texted you back.

“If I'm still alive, when you get off work, then you'll know.” You texted back, and made Henry laugh even more.

Henry had finished filming for the day, and made his way to your trailer, which is normally where he'd find you and Kal at the end of the day.

“I'm sorry, I won't do it again!” Henry heard you yell, from the over side of your trailer, as he raised his hand to knock, then heard you yelp and the thump of you falling down. “Y/n?” He called, moving around to the other side.

“I promised not to do it again!” You laughed, hands holding on to the thick fur of Kal's neck.

Henry stood by the side of your trailer, seeing Kal standing over you and licking at your face as you melted into hysterical laughter. You grunted as Kal dropped his heavy body on top of you, but kept laughing and playfully struggling against the big Bear.

“Mercy!” You howled in laughter. “Just tell me what the ransom is!” You told Kal, letting your arms fall to the sides as he kept licking at your face and drooling all over you. “I'll give you all the treats!” You tried bargaining with him. “I swear! All the treats and no more fake throws!”

Biting into his lip to keep from laughing himself, Henry looked around and saw the small treat bag you usually carried around sitting on the ground, and stooped to pick it up. “Kal.” He called, chuckling as you continued to beg for mercy.

“Oh, thank god, a Witcher!” You laughed even harder, turning your face towards Henry, who was still in costume and wig. “Please, Witcher! Pay this beast, it's ransom!”

“What do I get out of it?” Henry asked, turning on his Geralt voice. “I doubt there's any treats in here, I'd like.” He bounced the bag in his hand. “There's definitely no coin.”

“I'll be at your mercy!” You giggled, moving your head out of the way of another attack by Kal. “Name your price, Witcher!” You stopped struggling with Kal and laid limp beneath him, out of breath from running with Kal, and laughing.

“You let me repay you, for taking care of Kal so well.” Henry told you, using his normal voice again. “Come to dinner with me, tonight.”

“Well,” You panted and motioned to Kal, who just laid on top of you now. “I don't have much of an option, do I?” You said, looking over him over.

“No, you don't.” Henry grinned, taking out his phone and snapping a pic of the two of you.

“You're just living for this, now.” You laughed, smiling at him.

“I really am.” Henry nodded, opening the treat pouch. “Kal, treat?” He called to him, holding out a palm full of them.

Kal perked up at the word treat and his head swung around to him, his nose sniffing at the air between him and Henry. Henry made a noise and Kal shot up and ran for him, colliding into Henry's legs and devoured the treats he had for him. You gasped, filling your burning and deflated lungs with the cool afternoon air, and took the hand Henry extended to you, letting him pull you up onto your feet. You dusted yourself off and looked up at Henry, seeing the smirk still lingering on his lips as he looked down at you.

“Pick you up in an hour?” He asked, lifting a brow at you.

“I'll be ready.” You blushed.

The three of you parted ways and you took a quick shower and pulled on some decent clothing for a dinner. You opened your trailer door at Henry's knock and smiled at him, relieved he was just as decently dressed as you were, his hair still wet from the shower he'd apparently also took. You followed him to his car and buckled your seat belt as he slid into the driver's seat beside you.

“What was that ball you got Kal?” He asked, looking at you as he started the car. “He's had that thing for a while now, and it's still, more or less, in one piece.”

“One of my fellow Vet Techs suggested it to me, after she asked me why I kept picking up new ones.” You chuckled, brushing your still wet hair behind your ear.

“I'll have to grab some more from you, before filming is done.” Henry smiled, glancing at you. “But, we've got several more months of that.” He added.

“We got the time.” You agreed, looking back at him.

You and Henry had dinner that night, and several more times in the following weeks. Being that you were dog-sitting Kal, and Kal nearly always went with Henry, you got to follow Henry around to the various filming locations for the Witcher; London, Budapest, Austria and the Canary Islands in Spain. It was fun to travel, even better to spend that traveling with Kal and Henry. You and Henry had become close, very close thanks to Kal, he was like the Wing-dog equivalent to a Wing-man. But, you were still paid to take care of Kal, and give Henry updates on the Akita while he was on set working. Henry hadn't heard from you in several hours, and he was an hour's drive from where you and Kal were, at your flat in London. You weren't answering his texts or his phone calls, which made Henry's already cranky day, even crankier. So, when he got off work, he rushed as quickly back to you two as the law would allow.

“Y/n?” He called, opening the door with the key you'd given him, but he received no answer, not from you or Kal. Huffing, he mounted the stairs, taking them two at a time and pushed open your bedroom door, his shoulders relaxed as Kal's head came up and quietly woofed at him.

Kal was on the bed with you, partially covered up with your blankets, you were worried he'd get cold while you took a nap, and with your arm slung over his his body, head resting on his big paw as you slept, curled up against him. Henry's heart melted, all the stress and crankiness he had throughout the day, going with it as he watched you sleep. Kal woofed at Henry a bit louder this time, making you stir, rubbing you cheek against his paw and patting his side to calm him.

“Sorry.” You heard Henry whisper to Kal, getting the hint that he didn't want Henry bothering you, and opened your eyes.

“Henry?” You whispered, sleepily rolling onto your back, as Henry moved out of your room. “What time is it?” You asked his back.

“Just past seven, at night.” Henry replied, turning back towards you.

“Fuck!” You snapped, sitting up. “I never heard my alarm go off, I only wanted to take an nap for an hour.” You said, swiping your phone off the bed stand and seeing the endless string of texts, phone calls and voicemails Henry had left you throughout the afternoon. “I'm so sorry, Henry.” You told him, looking at him, shocked and worried.

“It's all right, y/n.” He assured you, smiling softly. “Both Kal and I have been running you rabid the last several months, and I trust you enough with him.” He told you, looking between you and Kal, tilting his head to the side. “I just got a little anxious is all, it's been one of those days.”

“Well,” You shifted over in bed, and patted the open space beside you. “We can fix that.” You smiled at him, and Kal barked in agreement with you.

“I thought you were my dog?” Henry commented, sitting on bed beside you. Kal woofed, walking over you to lay down on your and Henry's legs.

“He's your Wing-dog.” You chuckled, leaning in to kiss Henry on the cheek.

“Best Wing-dog a man could have.” Henry agreed, turning his head to capture your lips with his. “and you're the best woman, I could have. You take such great care of Kal and me, while still managing to go to school.”

“Well, someone has to take care of you two silly boys.” You teased, grinning at him.

“I've got to take you on vacation after you graduate, and I've finished filming the Witcher.” Henry told you, brushing his knuckles against your cheek. “You've more than earned it.” He said, laying down with you, Kal curling up at your feet.

“All three of us have earned a vacation.” You answered, humming as Henry wrapped his arms around you, burrowing you both into the blankets and mattress.

695 notes · View notes

barrysjumpsuit · 4 years

Text

blindsided - oc x rafe cameron (ch. 2)

me??? posting chapters two days in a row???? (who is she)

part one

word count: 3k

warnings: abuse and mentions of past abuse, cannabis use, cocaine use, mentions of sex, plot/timing holes (just dont think abt canon too much it’s pretty loose)

synopsis: christy is a lifelong resident of the outer banks. after a series of hookups with rafe cameron, kook royalty, she’s smitten. what she doesn’t know is about what her boyfriend and brother are involved in behind her back

a/n: really enjoying how this is coming along bc i’m totally just making it up as i go. ya boy jj makes an appearance in this one!! and BARRY!!!! next chapter has more plot i PROMISE

--------

The sun was about to set as Christy arrived home.

“Home” was a relative term. She lived in a trailer with a leaky roof, messy yard, and weird smell. Strange people she didn’t know were always there, and it was hard to truly feel at peace when she was there. The only thing that kept her coming back, especially after getting with Rafe, was her brother.

Barry truly was the only thing she had left. The two of them had always been as thick as thieves – they still were, but their own respective businesses had changed them. Christy just grew and sold a bit of weed. She made a couple hundred bucks here and there, mostly targeting tourists. Barry’s dealings were much more illegal, and all the bad things that came with selling blow naturally happened at her house.

She could hear the crackling of a fire as she rounded the corner of the trailer. Barry and a couple others sat there, whooping and hollering. “Look who finally decided to make an appearance,” she heard her brother yell. He raised a beer in the air as if to make a toast. “My favorite sister!”

“Just making sure you’re not twitched out somewhere, B,” Christy said back, not altering her path to the door. Right as she went to pull open the screen door, someone pushed it open, stumbling out of the trailer. “Excuse you.”

“Watch your mouth when you speak to me, little girl,” the man growled at her.

“I’m the one who lives here,” Christy replied flatly, not budging, and the man suddenly had her pinned to the wall of the trailer, a forearm pressing against her throat.

“Yo Luke, lay off of her!” she heard Barry call. Her hands were grabbing at Luke Maybank’s arm, her eyes forced to meet his. His pupils were blown up and delirious. “What the fuck, man!”

Barry pried Luke off of her, and Christy leaned against the cheap railing on the front steps to catch her breath. “Get the fuck out of here,” she heard Barry tell him before he turned to her. “Bro, you good? Where have you been the past few days?”

“I’m fine,” Christy said. Her heart felt like it was going to beat through her chest. Barry reached out to grab her shoulder, but she instinctively flinched away. “I’ve been staying with someone.”

She was aware of Barry watching her as she pulled open the screen door and went into the trailer. It was hot and stuffy. Inevitably, somewhere, something was growing mold, and they would have to deal with it like they had to almost every other time a storm knocked out power. It made her feel guilty as hell, knowing she was staying with Rafe in his kook mansion, while her brother was stuck here, alone, with whatever coked out friends he had with him.

After deciding there was nothing she wanted to eat, Christy made her way through the messy living room and down the hallway to her bedroom. She kept the door locked. Fishing the key out of her back pocket, she unlocked the padlock and stepped into her bedroom.

Her plants were moved hastily in front of her window, since the power knocked out the lights they normally sat under. They took up most of the space in her bedroom, and they also occupied her parent’s old bedroom. Christy couldn’t be bothered to water them; she just took off her shirt and laid on her bed, sweaty and with nothing to do.

She rolled over, pulling out an already loaded bowl and lighter from her nightstand. Pushing herself up, Christy brought the pipe to her lips and lit up, breathing deeply and bringing the smoke into her lungs. She blew out a thick cloud, almost having to cough. The greens were strong but tasted good. She took another hit, then another, before leaning back and closing her eyes.

It was almost unnerving to think about how quickly she had fallen for Rafe. They sporadically hooked up throughout the past couple years. A lot of times they were each other’s rebound. Other times, it was at parties. Despite being from the Cut, Christy was often welcome at kook parties, going where her brother wouldn’t dare going to move product. She didn’t like having a middle man. Grow, harvest, sell, consume. That’s how she liked her bud to go.

She knew Barry and Rafe had a history. But Barry has beef with a lot of people, and so did Rafe. Christy didn’t side with either. Rafe hadn’t paid Barry enough, failing to hold his end of the deal. But Barry had ripped Rafe off, knowing his family had more than enough money to repay him. It spiralled from there until they fought and beat each other an inch from death. Since then, Rafe had cleaned up his act as well as sobered up, and she hadn’t seen him at her place since. It was better that way. She didn’t have to worry about the crossover between her relationship with him and her relationship with her brother.

Barry was a shitty person. Everyone knew that. He moved more cocaine than anyone else on the island. It was impossible for him to hold onto a relationship for more than a week or two. He had a temper, and a mouth and fists to back it up. Despite this, Christy knew he was her lifeline, and she was his. Whenever they had to run errands or go anywhere on the island, they tried to go together. Safety in numbers.

Both of them had people that hated them.

Barry more so than Christy, but they both had enemies. It was just how the politics of drug dealing worked. Christy mainly targeted tourists, playing her cards smartly. In and out, one and done. She premeasured the bud into $10 bags, or as joints using cigarettes. It was a big hit. At each kegger she went to, she could usually pull two or three hundred bucks.

Christy took another hit before inspecting her pipe. A friend of hers had blown and crafted it for her birthday this past winter. It was a swirling design of pinks, yellows, and oranges. It looked like a sunset; every night, she would smoke on their west-facing dock and watch the sunset.

Except tonight. The sky was dark by the time she made her way outside. Barry was no longer by the fire, which was dying. Two of his buddies were still there, laughing at something funny only to them. Christy walked past them, down the dock and onto their little boat. She sat down next to Barry, their shoulders lightly touching on the small bench seat.

Her mind was still racing, and she lit her bowl again. “You’re not going to that kook party tonight?” Barry asked, his voice still with its disinterested tone.

“Nah. With the power out I’m not sure how much bud I’m going to able to get through this. They need light to grow.”

“I’ve been rotatin’ them in front of the windows for you. And watering them,” Barry said. She could tell he was coming down from a high he had likely been riding all day.

Christy could also tell he brought this up for a reason.

“How much short are we?” she asked quietly. “I can see if I can pick up extra shifts.”

He shook his head beside her before putting his head in his hands. “I don’t know man, but we’re short. Fuckin’ Agatha fucked us over, man. I can’t get any more for another couple weeks and I don’t have much left.”

“A lot of mine won’t be ready to harvest for a few weeks. Shit, B, why didn’t you tell me?”

“It’s not like you were here,” he said. His words stung, and I knew he was right. “It’s not like you’re ever here anymore except to smoke pot.”

“Barry,” Christy said, trying to be as stern as possible. “I’ve been working every fucking day. Agatha scared people away, so I’m not making good tips. It’ll bounce back soon, okay? I’ll make ends meet. Every time I come home you’re just blitzed to high heaven off your own product. You’re as guilty as I am.”

Her brother’s shoulders shook with a laugh, and he wiped his nose with a forearm while she took another hit. “I suppose so. You’ve got something on your neck, by the way. Who’s that from?”

Christy stiffened and almost launched into a coughing fit, and Barry knew he caught her. He looked over at her, expecting an answer after she exhaled the smoke. “Some tourist I met the other night at a kegger. Thought he could strike a deal with me.”

“Hmmm,” Barry mused. She couldn’t tell if he was buying it or not. “You’ve gotta be careful with them tourons and kooks, never know how they’re gonna use you.”

The weed had hit her enough so that Barry’s words didn’t fully register in her brain. “They’re always up to something,” she agreed. The swaying of the boat underneath her was an odd feeling and she leaned back in the seat, throwing an arm on the back of the seat behind Barry.

The stars were brilliant on the south side of the island, with no light pollution to drown them out. Two nights ago, she and Rafe sat on the roof of the Cameron house, looking at the same sky, but the lights were so bright you could see only a handful of the stars.

It was the simplicity of being a pogue that Christy liked. She didn’t have to worry about her social life or schedule outside of work. She didn’t have to worry about her image. She didn’t have to worry about businesses or making people happy or petty things that Rafe worried about. She could do what she wanted, when she wanted.

With the sky stretching endlessly above her, she felt like she was inside a dome. Like she was in a snowglobe. Agatha was the shake, mixing everything and everyone up. Now, the snowflakes were settling into new positions. Some were unstable, perched on plastic trees or people or houses, bound to fall to the ground. Some were already on the ground, back to their original positions. Others still, small little pieces of glitter, swirled around in the liquid inside.

She didn’t want to inevitably settle back into her old life. It was too mindless and mundane. Wake up, work at The Wreck, sell weed to tourists, hook up with random people. It was repetitive. Christy wanted something with meaning and risk. What was the view like, perched on top of the tallest tree in the snowglobe? Sure, it had potential to fall back to the ground like all the other pieces of snow. But there was also potential to stay there, seeing things no one else could and experiencing something it hadn’t experienced before.

Maybe Rafe was her tree. Holding her up with supportive branches, his roots deep into the soil of Tannyhill. He was here to stay, at least for now.

Maybe it was Christy’s turn to join him.

By four in the afternoon, Christy was done with her day.

She woke up early, tending to her plants before locking up the two rooms and heading to work. The morning shifts were her favorite. Less asshole tourists and more local residents. Christy knew them well, making polite small talk with the older people and getting plenty of tips. Working at The Wreck was nice. It gave Christy a sense of anonymity, making her feel less like a pogue and more like a normal person. For her work shifts she cleaned up nicely, interacting with people who didn’t know about her relation to Barry or her side hustle.

After Christy clocked out for the afternoon after her ten hour shift, she shouldered her backpack and lazily threw her apron over one shoulder. Under her work clothes she wore her swimsuit, ready for an afternoon of surfing with Rafe and his friends.

Stepping outside into the bright sun, she saw Kiara talking with her friends. Christy liked Kiara – she was one of her closer friends, but their relationship didn’t touch the bond she had with those three boys. Christy was friendly enough with them, and she gave them a wave as she walked past.

“Hey, Christy!”

A voice called out behind her and she turned around to see JJ jog up to her. John B rolled his eyes as he left the group to follow Christy. “Yeah, JJ?” she asked.

“Hey, uh, we’re going to have a kegger at the Boneyard tonight, if you’d like to come. I’d like to do some business with you.”

“How much you want?” Christy asked, ignoring any euphemisms people often use when asking for weed. “You better claim yours now, I’m running low.”

“You and everyone else on the island,” JJ said, smiling. “Five grams?”

“You got it, I can bring it to you tonight.” Christy pulled her cigarette carton from her pocket, taking one out and lighting it. “By the way, tell your father it’s rude to assault people at their own home and my brother doesn’t want to see him again for some time.”

JJ’s face dropped. “What did he do? Did he hurt you?”

She blew out the smoke before answering. “Pinned me against a wall. Nothing that hasn’t happened before, but… B’s stressed out and it won’t be good for either of them or for us if he sees him any time soon.” Christy lowered her voice slightly. “If he needs any blow, let me know and I can be a middle man. Okay?”

“He’s a piece of shit,” JJ muttered, not answering her question.

“JJ,” Christy said sternly, and JJ’s wandering eyes returned to meet hers. “Give him my contact information. I’ll deal with it so you don’t have to. Okay?”

“He’s not your problem,” JJ said, but Christy knew she got through to him as good as she could. “Thanks, Christy. I’ll see you tonight?”

“You got it,” Christy answered, giving him a playful salute with the hand that held her cigarette. At that, they turned away from each other and she started off to where she told Rafe she would meet him to go surfing.

The cigarette gave her a slight buzz. It felt like a warm hug, enveloping her. That little bit of pep was what she needed, coming off an early morning and long shift. Pretty soon, the pavement turned into sand, and she could see several figures ahead holding surf boards.

“How was work, baby?” Rafe asked as she walked up to them. He pulled her into a kiss before she could answer. Christy’s hands rested on his bare shoulders, standing on her tiptoes in the sand to reach his lips.

“It was good,” she replied. “Glad I’m here and not there, though.”

Kelce fake gagged at her words, and Rafe rolled his eyes at him. “Fuck off, Kelce,” Rafe said, kicking sand towards him. Rafe was wearing his sea foam green board shorts, the color glowing against his tanned skin.

“He’s just jealous,” Christy cooed, walking away from Rafe to give Kelce a hug. “It’s okay Kelce, I love you too.”

“Oh wait a second, was that the L word?” Topper asked, breaking Christy and Kelce apart. Topper looked from Christy to Rafe, raising his eyebrows.

Christy looked at Rafe, who jumped in. “Sure was, Top,” he said nonchalantly. “Now can we shut the fuck up and get into the water?”

Kelce gave Christy a confused look at Rafe’s short temper, and Christy just shrugged. They had brought her board, which she left at Rafe’s house. After taking off her clothes, much to the boys’ delight, she slipped the band around her ankle and the four of them started towards the water.

It was a good evening for waves. The water was refreshing, and it was nice to do something normal after Agatha. Rafe’s idea of a date defaulted to a ride on the Druthers, as if to wow her, followed by expensive wine and sex on the boat. It was nice, and she enjoyed it, but Christy had had sex on plenty of boats and it was never her favorite thing.

Surfing with Rafe and his friends was much more up her alley. She was a good surfer, and Rafe knew it. While they were on the water, Topper and Kelce gave him shit for having his ass owned by hers. Christy countered right back, pointing out that she was also owning their asses. It gave her a small victory: something she was better at than the kooks.

They tired quickly, and Christy mentioned the kegger at the Boneyard. “Bring Sarah, it’ll be like a double date,” she told Topper, much to Kelce’s dismay. “And Kelce, look at you. You’re gorgeous, all wet and glistening and half naked. Just stand in the water like that tonight and the girls will be all over you. I’ll make it my personal mission to find you someone.”

The kooks were never one to turn down a party, especially one with easy pickings for both fights and girls. Topper called Sarah while they were walking back to Rafe’s truck; they put their boards in the bed and Christy climbed into the front seat, while Topper and Kelce crammed into the back of the cab.

“She’ll come,” Topper reported. Rafe dropped off Kelce before driving to the Cameron estate.

Topper left to find Sarah, while Rafe took Christy to his bedroom. “Can I shower?” she asked, and he nodded.

The Camerons had hot running water. Another thing she didn’t have on the Cut. It brought up those conflicting emotions again, as she remembered hearing Barry grumble about not being able to shower, which was a very non-Barry thing to complain about. Christy had insisted he use some of the distilled water she had for her plants, but he refused.

She would have to swing back home before the party tonight to get weed, both for JJ and the tourists. Not much was left – she wanted some to keep for herself, but she needed money.

Christy really didn’t want Rafe anywhere near her place.

She just had to hope Barry was out, and that no one was there, or things could get bad.

----

taglist (reply, reblog, or ask to be added!!!) @stargazingstarkey @letsgofullkook @macchiatohno @ampanonyg @hoeforpankow @jjsmentalpolaroids @drewstarkey @obbx-tings @bricksatanakinswindow

#outer banks #rafe cameron #outer banks imagine #outer banks fanfiction #jj maybank #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fanfiction #drew starkey #rudy pankow #john b routledge #kiara carrera #sarah cameron

70 notes · View notes

belladxne · 4 years

Text

i will see you where the shadow ends | chapter 5

[see notes for ao3 and ff links]

part of the put your faith in the light that you cannot see series AU: Breath of the Wild pairing: KiriBaku word count: 6,400

chapter 5: i will hold on hope, and i won’t let you choke on the noose around your neck

Eijiro wakes the next morning to Inko having laid out two simple white shirts and a pair of trousers for him—he can tell as soon as he runs his fingers over the shirts that unlike what he’s wearing now, they’re made of soft and comfortable material. It feels sturdier, too, but that may just be because anything’s bound to feel sturdier than clothes left to rot for a hundred years. Beside them are a padded doublet, clearly designed for warmth, and a pair of thick gloves.

He looks up to see Inko humming as she merrily gathers food for breakfast—eggs and rice. He’s relieved to see she looks none the worse for the wear after losing out on her bed for the night.

“Where did you get these?” he asks, curiously. It’s… not exactly like there are any merchants or tailors able to get up onto the plateau. Inko hums, distracted, before she glances up and seems to remember what he’s talking about, and a bright smile crosses her face.

“They’re old. They were all too big for me, so I took some time last night to tailor the shirts and trousers to something I thought might fit you better.”

“Oh,” he says, looking down at them. He’s focusing real hard on not having a repeat of yesterday—he’s so immensely thankful, but he’s gonna try not to get emotional about it. Well, too emotional about it. Well, okay, he’s already really emotional about it, but he can at least try to not get choked up. “I—thank, you, so much, I really don’t know how I can—”

“If I hear another word about repayment out of you,” she scolds teasingly, but Eijiro can tell she doesn’t have any sort of threat to actually finish the sentence. Still, he gets the message, laughing softly.

“Okay, okay,” he relents, “I just—I really do appreciate it.”

She knows, of course. He’s just glad he’s said it enough to make it clear.

After they finish the omurice Inko’s made, the two of them both get ready for the day. Eijiro’s got a few plans, but his main priority is finding somewhere private and getting this scratchy hell shirt off of himself.

As Inko’s tugging on her boots, she makes a face, more confused than bothered. She pulls the offending boot back off, turning it upside down and giving it a shake, and a familiar-looking seed comes clattering out onto the stone floor. Inko doesn’t pay it any mind, but Eijiro blinks.

“Is that a Korok seed?” he asks, thinking of the five he's collected so far. He hasn’t seen any seeds just loose before—they’ve all come directly from the hands of a tiny forest spirit, delighted to have been found in their odd little hiding spot.

“Hm?” Her tone is distracted, but when she follows his gaze realization crosses her face. “Oh, yes.”

“You see them?” He’d thought—the first Korok he’d met seemed so surprised when he’d seen him. Eijiro thought most people couldn’t…?

“Oh, no, not very often,” Inko replies as she pulls on her other boot and stands, straightening her clothes out. “I think they have more fun playing their games and causing mischief if they keep themselves hidden. But they do seem to like me an awful lot; they’re always leaving me funny little gifts. The seeds only started about a week ago. Why, would you like it?”

Huh. She talks so casually about it, like she has no idea how out of the ordinary it is. Of course, he thinks if he were a Korok, he’d probably think Inko was great, too, but still. It’s a little odd, but it doesn’t take much of his focus as they both carry on with their day. He’s in too much of a rush to find someplace to change to dwell on it.

The verdict when Eijiro does find a more secluded area and get into the new clothes is oh, thank the gods, this is so much better, holy shit. His pants actually reach his ankles. The plain, undyed shirts she’s given him are probably better suited to being undershirts, worn under a tunic or something, but they’re so much better than something itchy and falling apart at the seams.

He might burn the old one, honestly. Or he guesses he could keep it as a rag. Cutting it up could be cathartic.

With that out of the way, Inko had suggested he try fishing, and he at least wants to make sure he leaves her something to have for lunch before he spends all day hiking up cliffs and mountains and undertaking trials. He knows Inko has banned all talk of paying her back, but he figures this is the easiest and sneakiest way to make sure she gets something for her troubles.

He’s just a little proud of how crafty he feels, concocting this plan.

Eijiro finds himself aware of three different facts by the time he’s returning to Inko’s house with two freshly-caught Hyrule bass in hand, and he’s not sure how many of them should have already been obvious.

One—Koroks really are absolutely, ridiculously everywhere. He accidentally found one in the water while he was fishing, and there’s even one hiding out on top of Inko’s house. She must not have been wrong when she said they liked her. He’s genuinely not sure how it took him so long to start running into them yesterday, because it feels like he’s stumbling into one every other step now.

Two—the longer he spends around the plateau, the more he’s forced to realize… there’s something odd about Inko. Like, really odd.

For one, she’s everywhere. Almost every time he’s turned around on this plateau since yesterday, she’s been there. Every time he’s been anywhere near the campfire outside the Shrine of Resurrection, she’s been at the campfire. Every time he’s been anywhere near her house, she’s at her house. When he raised the tower, suddenly she was at the tower. When he did his first shrine trial, she was at the shrine. She pops out of nowhere sometimes, and more than once he’s thought she moved awfully quick for her age.

Then there’s the odd amount of information she knows—and that’s just including what she’s told him. She’d said she didn’t know much about Sheikah buildings, but she’d seemed to know that his slate had been what activated the tower—and then she’d pulled out all sorts of information on his slate, too. And fast travel! She’d also been able to tell him the shrine only started glowing at the same moment the tower had risen, but she’d come from the opposite direction of the shrine.

And there was the day before, too… she’d been so frazzled as soon as he was going to the shrine surrounded by the old machines, and just as much so afterwards. Like she’d known what he was going to run into—why else would she be so scared for him with that shrine, but not the other?

He thinks maybe he’s just being paranoid, like when he’d jumped to the conclusion that he’s dead, or been fully convinced he’d gotten possessed, but he can’t shake the feeling that there might just be more to Inko than she’s admitting. It’s not like it matters, though—he can’t mistrust her, even if it is true. She’s done too much to help for him to ever be able to believe she could be untrustworthy.

And three—his little scheme to repay Inko right under her nose was doomed from the start.

He was going to just leave her the fish and go forage something for himself that he won’t have to cook to take up the mountain, but the second he offers her the fish, she puts him to work. She’s not letting him go up the peaks at the southern end of the plateau unprepared, she informs him very adamantly, and so instead she takes the next hour and then some to walk him through the recipe and cooking processes of several more dishes.

She tells him all about how when spicy peppers are cooked right, they make the body run warmer—and makes sure he sees how she does it when she cooks them into a meat and seafood fry with the last of the fox meat from last night, and an abundance of seafood rice balls. She wraps them all carefully in parcels made of paper, to keep them until he needs to eat them.

He’s a little afraid his mouth won’t survive the dishes, with all those peppers cooked in, but she swears that between them and the warm doublet and gloves she’d given him, he’ll be comfortable for as long as he has to spend on the snow-covered cliffs. He’s grateful, but he’s also been foiled as she uses all of the food that he’d meant for her to help him.

He’s going to do something nice for her to make up for this all, he’s really going to. Eventually he’ll find an act of kindness she can’t counter!

As much as he wishes he’d been able to get away with his little plot, he’s barely five minutes up the path behind the Temple of Time before he’s so glad for the spicy dishes. The padded doublet she’d given him didn’t cover his arms, but he thought he’d been smart about accounting for that—as much at it had pained him, he’d put his first, awful, itchy shirt back on and then layered both of his new shirts over it.

Unfortunately, the layers only did so much, and he could feel the wind whipping through them and biting at his arms. But Inko had had his back—so he’d pulled out the meat and seafood fry, torn the paper back, and gone to town on the meal as he walked along the riverbank.

Yes, his mouth was absolutely on fire like he’d feared, and he might be crying, like, just a little bit, but he’s sweating within minutes. He’d be kept warm as long as he hurried and was smart about rationing the food, exactly as she’s promised. If that came at the expense of looking ridiculous as he walked along with his mouth wide open in hopes the frigid air would soothe his burning mouth, then so be it.

When he reaches the bridge he’d seen on the map, he has a problem. He hadn’t noticed that the bridge is collapsed—the supports are all still there, but most of the planks on his side of the river have fallen through. He spends just enough time despairing over the prospect of having to go all the way back to try and go around the river the other way to feel frustration welling up intensely, but then, of course, he remembers.

He can fucking do magic now. He had to walk past the giant, ruined metal doors of a collapsed gate just beside this bridge to even inspect the damage—after the hour and a half he’d spent puzzling out every potential creative usage of the magnesis rune in the shrine yesterday, he can’t believe it takes him as long as five minutes to think of laying the two massive doors over the gaps in the bridge.

It’s not the neatest job, or the most stable, but it gets him across safely enough. He does allow himself to be a little proud of his problem solving.

He’s all over the southern side of the plateau for the next few hours. The worst of his difficulties are over after the bridge, and the path to both shrines are mostly straightforward apart from a couple of surprise Koroks—seriously, even in the cold, high altitudes? They’re forest spirits, where’s the forest here?—and a handful of monster camps.

At Keh Namut Shrine, Eijiro spends over an hour figuring out all the applications of the cryonis rune—which allows him to make solid pillars of ice erupt out of any source of water. Even if his water source is shallow, barely ankle-deep, the pillars are always at least eight feet tall, and the great blocks of ice will even erupt sideways out of waterfalls. This… he thinks this one might be the most useful yet.

He can use it for a vantage point, for cover, to get to things out of his reach, to lift things out of the water, as stepping stones or bridges… and, if Inko’s idea to get him off the plateau doesn’t work, he might just be able to use it to hop down the waterfall that spills off the plateau, pillar by pillar.

He finally feels like he’s made tangible progress.

Owa Daim Shrine, across the plateau, isn’t so simple to reach. He’s left with only one spicy seafood rice ball by the time he’s painstakingly scaling down to where the shrine rests, halfway up the cliffside, but he’s relieved at least that the temperature becomes more bearable on its own the lower he goes. He can save the rice ball for the return trip and move quickly.

Inside the shrine, the pattern holds, and he’s gifted another rune: the stasis rune. The description the slate gives him of this rune takes longer for him to puzzle out than the others—it uses phrases like ‘storing kinetic energy’ and ‘stopping an object in time’, the first phrase confusing him for lack of surety at its meaning, the second confusing him for lack of ability to visualize its possibility.

Thankfully, the trial the shrine offers, just like the others, is nothing if not a perfect set of puzzles to allow him to figure it out. The rune has a wide range of uses—securing safe passageways from moving or unstable objects, halting oncoming projectiles and other dangers, and making temporarily immovable obstacles for others to traverse, to name the ones he grasps quickest.

The most important use, however, is the one where the stored energy comes into play—it takes him a little to work it out, but once he does, he’s able to send even the most giant of obstacles flying out of his path. And to use them as projectiles. Even large, heavy stones can be moved by something as insignificant as arrows shot from a distance, as long as he hits it with enough of them for the force to compound. It’s awesome, and it gives him the same giddy delight that the magnesis rune had.

When the last of the monks hidden away in the shrines on this plateau fades to nothing, Eijiro can’t really deny that this spirit thing they keep doing to him is really getting to him. He might not be possessed, sure, but the bizarre feeling that’s overtaken him after each ‘gift’ has only gotten stronger with each instance, and it’s not fading.

There’s—something, he’s not sure, an energy maybe, that feels like it’s thrumming under his skin and the sensation is so unsettling. It’s supposed to be the strength of their spirits, or whatever they’d said, but he doesn’t feel stronger, necessarily, just—just—just very noticeably affected!

He can feel whatever it is and it’s distracting. He’s not sure how it’s supposed to help him.

It’s late afternoon by the time Eijiro emerges from the entrance to the shrine, and he’s confronted with the obvious evidence that his most worrisome of theories is true. Inko is not a normal old woman; can’t be.

She can’t be, because there she stands, on the wide ledge that houses Owa Daim Shrine, and there’s just no way a simple old woman could be here. There’s no possible explanation for it. She’d either have had to cross a wide chasm behind her house and then scale the cliffside up to reach him, or hiked the unforgiving eastern slopes of the plateau and then scaled the cliffside down. Neither is a reasonable task for a woman of her age.

So—so there it is, then. He knows now. There’s something odd about Inko, something she’s been keeping from him about her nature. He’s obviously not so surprised as he could be, but it’s still—it’s still—hard to process that the woman who’s helped him so much has been lying to him. All he can manage is a quiet, “Oh.”

“Hello, Eijiro,” she greets him, but her heart is clearly not entirely in it. There’s something in her tone—she obviously knows as well as he does that this marks the end of—of whatever simple and easy experience they’ve been having together so far. A change is coming whether she chooses to explain what she’s been hiding or not, and they both understand that.

“So, you’ve finally explored all the plateau’s shrines,” she notes, a gentle and rueful smile just barely touching at her features. Eijiro can only nod as he shuffles his feet, watching her with equal parts expectation and dread. “You worked hard to reach them all. I’m so proud of you.”

“Thanks,” he manages, tone barely audible.

Inko sighs. “That means it’s time, I think, to finally give you an explanation. I can’t keep shielding you from the worst of it forever, and I think you’ve more than earned the right to hear… well, everything.”

Eijiro doesn’t know how to respond, there’s too much going through his mind—he opens his mouth to say—to ask—something, anything to grant him some clarification, but the words get caught in his throat. He stands there with his mouth opened somewhat helplessly, but it seems Inko wasn’t intending to wait for a response.

“Meet me at the temple of time,” she requests gently. “I’ll be waiting for you there, and I’ll tell you everything you need to know.”

“Why—” There’s so many questions he needs to ask that all start with that word, that they all tumble over each other before he can sort them out, but the most pressing of them is, of course, why can’t you explain it here? He wants to ask, but Inko smiles apologetically, and she—

—she just fades.

It startles him, when he suddenly realizes that he can see through her, just a little bit—and then just a little bit more, and then all at once he almost yelps as she starts to glow and eerie flames spring up around her. It’s not like watching the monks turn into motes of light that disperse up and away; she stays in one piece, but the light emanating off of her and the color of the flames hovering near to her are the same otherworldly blue-green glow.

Shaken, Eijiro stares blankly at the spot where she disappears for a few moments after she’s gone, before slowly he sinks down to sit on the surface of the shrine. It’s only a minute, that’s all he needs, but—but he closes his eyes and uses all of that minute to try and process, and work through as much of what he’s seen since awakening as he can.

The temple somehow seems more daunting when he emerges onto the path that leads from it, rubbing at his arms.

He takes a steadying breath, eyeing the decayed machines that dot the front of the structure around its entrance, and then shifts his gaze to the side of the building instead. On the side facing him, one of the massive, soaring windows that reach the entire height of the temple is empty—both of glass and the metal bars that make up the decoration and frame of the other windows.

The temple is huge, so with the window being one of the ones nearest to the back of the structure, it’s a good distance away from the closest machine. And Inko hadn’t said he had to come in the front door of the structure, so—he doesn’t feel any shame in beelining towards the window, hoisting himself up, and toppling with at least some amount of grace into the sweeping structure.

The space is incredibly open—not just due to the high, vaulted ceiling or the lack of walls in the giant structure, but because a massive hole has been ripped out of almost the entire front half of the opposite side of the building. He only barely notices that, though, because the feature that claims his attention—nearly all of it—

—is a stylized, towering winged statue of Bakusatsuo that dominates the space. It’s stationed to his right, against the back wall of the temple, and it must be fifteen feet tall, at least. And it’s glowing. Faint, iridescent light seems to be shining straight up from the bottom and Eijiro just… is drawn to it.

He hasn’t even looked around for Inko yet, but his feet carry him towards the figure without him really having to think about it. It’s a crude and simple likeness of the god in the way all the shrines to him across the country are, not proportioned in such a way as to actually resemble a real being, and the statue’s hands are spread out to its sides, palms up. The expression isn’t incredibly detailed, but Eijiro thinks most people would see it as calm, if not quite serene. But Eijiro—he swears its eyes follow him as he approaches, and he would swear the look carved into its face was almost tender.

He climbs the steps that lead up to the statue and instinctively drops to one knee before it, though he doesn’t bow his head in prayer. He keeps his eyes upturned to meet the figure’s gaze as the faint light at its feet seems to flare, almost like it’s reaching for him, and Eijiro swears he feels something like fondness radiating off of the statue, towards him.

You’ve done well, comes a faint whisper at the edge of his mind, and it—it sounds so much like the voice in Hyrule Castle. It’s so similar but—but it’s not quite the same, and Eijiro feels his jaw drop.

A warmth settles over him that somehow feels like the voice sounds, and that bizarre energy he’s felt humming under his skin finally dissipates. It’s not exactly like it goes away, more like it—like it finally settles, almost. It feels like the strange force that’s been lingering there finally seeps into him fully, and finally feels like it’s part of him. He realizes, when it finally happens, that he does feel stronger. Heartier, like Inko had said. Some of the aches and soreness that have built up in the past couple of days fade, just a little, as he stares at the statue in awe.

Go, and bring peace to Hyrule…

Like that, the glowing fades, and Eijiro almost feels like he imagined it all. That’s… he’s pretty sure Bakusatsuo just spoke to him. The god. The patron god of Hyrule. Beloved of the Three Goddesses and protector of the entire realm, and he’d spoken to Eijiro. With clear affection in his tone. It’s… unreal.

“Eijiro!” Inko’s voice hails him, startling him out of his moment of shock. He stands, the motion stiff with his distraction, and it takes him a few moments to locate her once he’s turned around. Of all the places to spot her, it turns out she’s peering down at him through the gaping hole in the partially collapsed roof.

“You’ll have to meet me up here, I’m afraid,” she calls down to him, before both her luminous figure and the tongues of blue-green fire that hover around her retreat out of his sight.

Eijiro stares at the spot he’d last seen her and he gives a shaky sigh. He doesn’t know what’s coming, but he wants to, very badly. So he’s going to find out.

There’s a ladder that runs the height of the building.

Even though it stands just beside the collapsed temple wall—on the far end from the machines, thankfully—it remains intact. Stable, even, though he figures out about a third of the way up that he needs to let his dragonscales overtake his hands if he doesn’t want to get splinters.

Inko is visible immediately from across the definitely unsound and precarious roof, waiting in the tower of the steeple at the front of the temple, still emitting that eerie light.

Balancing his way across the peak of the roof, he pulls himself up the rubble into the steeple to meet her, and despite having all this time to figure out where to begin, he’s—he’s still at a loss for words. Inko seems nearly as unsure how to start as he is—or simply reluctant. Either way, she heaves a mild sigh and attempts a sad smile.

“You’ve done so well since waking up, Kirishima Eijiro. I hope you know that,” she says, voice emphatic if a little quiet and somber. He startles at the full name—it’s—he hadn’t even given thought to whether Eijiro was his given or family name, let alone what the rest of his name might be. He’s had so much else on his mind. And this whole time—this whole time, Inko has known it? And not said anything?

“You don’t know me,” she continues with her eyes downcast. “At least—not very well, my son only brought you around a few times, and we never really spoke. But my name is Midoriya Inko. You should know, Eijiro—I know I’ve told you some, but the kingdom is not like it was when you entered your slumber. The Kingdom of Hyrule… it doesn’t exist anymore.”

Eijiro swallows, but he nods when her eyes flick up to gauge his reaction. The ruins everywhere—the monstrosity enshrouding the castle—the scarcity in meeting or even seeing other people—it all points to the same conclusion. He doesn’t remember much—anything, really. He can’t say if he’s ever been to any of the ruins that dot the landscape as far as the eye can see, can’t say if he ever knew anyone that lived in any of them—but he can say that he knows, knows deeply and inherently the wrongness of it all, to see or even think about.

The kingdom, or lack of it, isn’t how he’d remember if he could, and he knows that.

As Inko speaks, a transformation seems to come over her—she looks the same, and yet, there appears another version of her like a second image overlaid atop. Decades younger, maybe only forty or so.

“The Great Calamity was merciless when it swept out over the kingdom. There was nothing in its path that it didn’t devastate a century ago. I was one of the few who were lucky—the Sheikah village was remote and hard to reach, and well out of the Calamity’s focus. I lived a long, full life after it was said and done, but I couldn’t bring myself to move on, because… well, I’m getting ahead of myself.”

Inko heaves a sigh once more, and the look she gives Eijiro is apologetic. “There’s a lot I haven’t told you, but you have to understand. What you’ve been through—it was awful, Eijiro, and it would traumatize anyone. It would have been unfair and dangerous to overwhelm you with too much horrible news so soon after you woke, with your memory still fragile. I’m sorry.”

“I...” Eijiro manages, but his voice is weak. Overwhelmed is exactly the word for it, so he understands, but he only has more questions because of the time spent keeping things from him. He just wants to know already. “It’s… it’s okay.”

“Such a sweet boy,” she echoes the sentiment she’d told him last night quietly, before seeming to steel herself as she turns away to face the view of the castle through the steeple’s window. “But you’re ready, now, I think, to hear what happened one hundred years ago. All for One… that horrible monstrosity we can see from here—the stories said that long ago, that demon king was born into this kingdom, before he transformed into… into that.”

“I… I remember the legends, I think,” Eijiro tells her honestly. “That… that he’d barely been more than a fairy tale, a scary story people told, but—but didn’t really believe until… more recently.”

It’s so frustrating, what he does remember and where the blanks are instead. He remembers the tales, remembers that there’d been a shift from them being treated as fiction to being treated as an impending reality, but he doesn’t remember when or why.

Inko, for her part, nods, and seems to pick up on his frustration. “There was a prophecy,” she informs him, “Maybe twenty years or so before the Calamity came to pass. We knew it would be coming back, but the prophecy also promised a way to stop it, lying dormant beneath the ground. The Sheikah, the royal family—the entire kingdom came together, to try and find the aid the prophecy mentioned, and they were quick to find several ancient relics made by the hands of our distant ancestors.”

“The Divine Beasts,” Eijiro supplies, though his tone isn’t certain. But—but he knows this information, he thinks.

“Yes. Four giant machines, to be piloted by warriors,” she says, affirming the information that he thinks he has in his mind. “And, later, we discovered creations our research eventually taught us were called Guardians.”

The lifeless robots, decaying and overgrown with nature, which dot the plateau flash into his mind as his breath catches and his fists clench. As soon as she says the name, he’s sure of it.

“They were meant to be an army of mechanical soldiers, that fought autonomously to aid us. We realized—in the ancient legends we’d heard echoed so often, many of them told of these machines. That meant all of the legends—the prince with a sacred power, and his appointed knight who was chosen by the Sword that Seals the Darkness, who were the only ones who could truly seal All for One away with the aid of the relics we were discovering—all of it must be true.”

Yes, he knows those legends. Everyone knows those legends—there were far more of them than simply the ones centered around these ancient creations.

“One hundred years ago, there was a prince who would come to wield that power,” Inko continues, before she turns her head to meet Eijiro’s eyes, “and a skilled knight who fought at his side. The path laid before us was obvious, even without the prophecy. There were too many legends that echoed it all. So four Champions were chosen from across the kingdom to pilot the Divine Beasts, and together with the prince and his appointed knight, we were so sure we would be able to turn back All for One’s assault the moment it began. We had—we had all the pieces in place, after all.”

With that, Inko’s voice suddenly breaks. She turns away from Eijiro once more, with her hands pressed to her eyes. “We didn’t know—we couldn’t have—we never realized, All for One had spent all of those thousands of years plotting to—we never imagined it would appear from below Hyrule Castle itself, or take control of the Guardians and Divine Beasts. All that time spent restoring the machines to—to protect, and—”

Eijiro’s heart breaks with how devastated she sounds, and he stumbles forwards a few steps, reaching out a hand to—to—he doesn’t know, but he just wants to help. He wants to fix this, though he knows there’s no changing what’s already happened. He doesn’t remember any of this, but it hurts to hear, hurts to imagine.

“The Champions were killed, so many in the castle, in nearly every town nearby—and the appointed knight nearly lost his life in protection of the prince. He almost didn’t survive his wounds, he was in no shape to continue the fight. If the prince hadn’t survived, and returned to the castle with—with another chosen of Farore—if they hadn’t gone to fight the beast, alone, there would have been no hope for those who survived.”

Taking a shuddering breath, Inko chokes off the beginning of a sob, and Eijiro stumbles the last few steps forward to place a hand on her shoulder. It’s little comfort after everything, but she sags with the gesture.

“Eijiro, that other chosen of Farore… he’s my baby, my Izuku, and he’s risking his life to help Prince Katsuki hold All for One off. And the courageous knight, the one who kept Prince Katsuki safe until the very end, so that he could make it there at all…. Oh, Eijiro, honey, it was you. You were so brave, you did—you did so well, but even you couldn’t endure such an onslaught.”

Despite the tears still flowing freely down her face—and, shit, he realizes now that his own cheeks are wet, though he doesn’t remember any of this—she lays her hand over his on her shoulder, and the gesture somehow feels comforting even though he was the one trying to comfort her.

“You were carried here, to the Shrine of Resurrection, and spent one hundred years healing. I couldn’t rest with my Izuku still trapped in the castle, and I couldn’t bear to think of you awakening here alone, with no one to turn to, so my spirit settled here naturally when I died. I’ve been looking after you as best I can. And… and the voice you’ve been hearing, guiding you since you woke, that’s Prince Katsuki himself.”

Eijiro’s eyes pull from her face, and he finds himself looking out towards the castle with a feeling of desperation. Katsuki. That’s the name he can put to the voice. Katsuki, fighting with Izuku. Katsuki, who asked for his help.

“He’s still there, with my baby, fighting to restrain the Calamity, and—oh, Eijiro, honey, you’re so young to ask this of you, all three of you boys, you’re all so young—but they won’t be able to hold out for much longer before they’re going to need you. You’re—you’re the only one who can help them stop the Calamity from consuming all life left in the land. It’s so unfair to ask this of you, I—I can hardly bear to, but please save my son. Please bring my Izuku home, and destroy All for One before it can destroy anything else.”

Clearing his throat and swallowing roughly, Eijiro manages, “I will. I’ll—I’ll do it.”

This only makes Inko cry harder. “You shouldn’t have to. I’m so sorry.” She turns and embraces him suddenly, and the feeling now that she’s revealed her nature as a spirit is odd. Somehow warm and cold at the same time, but it doesn’t matter—he wraps his arms around her tightly. When she speaks again, her voice is muffled against the doublet she’d given him.

“You can’t go to the castle yet. Even Prince Katsuki wouldn’t expect that of you. There are things you still need to know, and—and All for One still has control of the Divine Beasts, and all of the Guardians. Please, please promise me you won’t make straight for the castle.”

“But...” Eijiro’s voice is still wobbly, and his hands are still too occupied to try wiping at his eyes. “I have to help them. Where else...”

Inko pulls back as he trails off, and she does her best to draw to her full height and look stern through a faceful of openly flowing tears. “You won’t be helping them or anyone else by charging off towards certain death before you’re fully recovered from your slumber. You should make for Kakariko Village, down the eastern road that cuts between the Dueling Peaks. The young man who leads the Sheikah, Aizawa, was an advisor to the Prince, and he’ll be able to give you counsel on the best steps for you to take. You’ll want to speak to him.”

Eijiro’s brow furrows, and he casts a look at the castle. Katsuki needs him, had asked him to hurry. “How long do I have? Before they run out of time in the castle? Do you know?”

“Long enough,” Inko says firmly, though the effect is somewhat undermined by the sniffle that follows. “Prince Katsuki would expect you to be smart about this, and he would know that will take time. Meet with Aizawa.”

Every fiber of his being wants to charge off, but… as painful as it is to promise, he tears his gaze from the castle to meet Inko’s eyes, and nods numbly. “Okay. I will.”

Relief floods Inko’s features. “Thank you. And you—you’ll need these.” She turns, then, to grab something he hadn’t noticed before; a pack that’s considerably less aged than his current one, with lots of different compartments. Flapping one such compartment open, she withdraws what she’d been seeming to work on the night before, and holds it out to him.

What he’d mistaken for a blanket, he now sees could never have been one—it’s too small, and the fabric is more like canvas, though it’s not quite as stiff. Still, he can tell that air won’t flow through the fabric easily, and even water would have a hard time soaking the material. He takes it from her, noting two wooden handles that run the length of its sides. “What’s…?”

“It’s a paraglider,” she informs him, managing a small smile. “It will support your weight and let you glide down from the plateau. And this bag is enchanted by Koroks. It belonged to my son, but he didn’t think… he didn’t think he would need it, to go to the castle. Each of its compartments can hold much more than it should, and it will be nearly weightless.”

He looks up from the gifts to meet her eyes once more, and the tear tracks on both their cheeks are still wet as he breathes, “Thank you. For everything.”

Inko’s smile grows, and she begins to fade once more as she presses the bag into his hands. “The best way to thank me is by staying safe. Take care, Eijiro. I’m so proud of you.”

Fifteen minutes later sees Eijiro standing at the very eastern edge of the plateau. The sun is setting, and the wise thing to do would be to rest for the night and set out in the morning, so he isn’t traveling in the dark.

Eijiro can’t wait. Impatience hums in his veins, making him twitchy and full of restless energy. Katsuki needs him, Inko’s son needs him, and he needs to be doing something. He won’t be able to stand the wait. So Eijiro takes a deep breath, new bag strapped to his back and paraglider clutched tightly in his hands.

And he leaps.

#kiribaku #bakushima #krbk #bkshm #kirishima eijirou #bakugou katsuki #kirishima eijiro #bakugo katsuki #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #fanfiction #fanfic #fic

18 notes · View notes

queen-of-the-avengers · 3 years

Text

The One

Characters: Sebastian Stan x Suzanne Annucci (second person; you; you’re)

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: fluff, minor freak out about pregnancy and renal disease

Summary: You try to work on your body to become healthier in more ways than one. Sebastian is your coach in more than just fitness--he’s your life coach as well. You can’t imagine yourself with anyone other than him. Your birthday is coming close, but this time, you both have a surprise for each other...

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Author’s Note: This is the sixth part of seven parts of the commission for @sea040561.

Your reflection stares back at you, reminding you that you can keep going, that you have more energy inside you. Sebastian stands behind you, giving you a thumbs-up as encouragement that he is always going to support you. You can do this, Suzy. It’s okay one more rep. You got this. You grip the handlebars of the barbell tightly, and with a deep breath, you begin your last rep.

Sebastian stands behind you to spot you in case anything were to happen. You go into a squatting position with the barbell on your shoulders. Holding it there for five seconds, you stand up straight. You repeat this process twelve more times before your body tells you that it needs a break. Sebastian helps you put the barbell back where it’s supposed to, and you practically hobble over to a nearby bench.

“You did so well!” he encourages.

“Thanks,” you chuckle, out of breath.

Ever since you got your new kidney, you wanted to change who you were--physically. You wanted to be more healthy, lost your fat, and gained muscle. You wanted to be healthier mentally and physically. Sebastian practically lept for joy when you asked him for his help. He loves working out, and he never says no to helping someone else better themselves. Of course, he knows when to push you and when to not, and right now, he knows to give you a break. You’ve been working so hard these past five months. Since that night you two had sex for the first time, you realized you needed to make a few changes about yourself.

You’re eating a lot better than you were, even though you were limited on what you could eat before your new kidney. You’re trying a lot of new stuff that Sebastian cooks for you. He loves to use the kitchen for almost anything, so you’re getting five-star meals almost every night. He loves to experiment with food, and you’re his little tester.

He still lives with Chris, but it’s practically your home too. You offered to have Sebastian move in with you to give Chris his own space, but Chris insisted on having you there with the both of them. Some part of you believes that he doesn’t want to let Sebastian go so quickly, but eventually, you two will need to get your own place.

It’s only a matter of time now.

“Want to go one more time? Then we can head home,” Sebastian suggests.

You look at the time in shock at the realization you’ve been at the gym for nearly an hour.

“Yeah, we can go one more time. Do this with me.”

You and Sebastian get up to do the next set together. He’s a good coach, and it’s not with stuff in the gym. He takes you on hiking dates that you absolutely love because you’ve always been a nature lover. To hike through the woods only to come out on top and watch the view is something everyone should experience.

“Are we almost there?” you pant.

You two have been hiking for a while now, and you’re starting to get tired. If Sebastian doesn’t take you to the top soon, then you’re going to melt into a puddle and wash away.

“Yeah, we’re nearly there. Just a few more minutes. You got this.”

He takes your hand and helps you up the rest of the way. The clearing comes into view, and you smile widely at the accomplishment. Before, you could have never done this, so to be able to finish at the top is overwhelming. You’re experiencing things you never got to before, and that makes you want to cry.

“Hey, are you okay?” Sebastian asks when he sees a tear roll down your face.

“I just never thought I’d get to see this in person,” you say.

“You’re seeing it now because you did it. You finished the hike,” he grins.

He wraps his arms around your waist as you two stare at the sunset. The pretty colors reflect off the trees, causing the area to dim in a light pink hue.

“We finished it,” you smile widely.

You tried doing some stuff before your new kidney, but you could only do easy yoga poses to keep your body flexible and used to working out. Your doctor approved of the poses you wanted to do, but now that you are able to do a lot more, Sebastian agreed to do some with you. He’s not a big yoga fan to begin with, but he likes it when he's doing it with you.

We don’t have to do this for long if you don’t want to,” you say as you bring the yoga mats into the living room.

Chris is in his room playing some game, so you and Sebastian will have the living room to yourself. You already popped in the yoga DVD, and all you have to do is hit play.

“I don’t mind doing this with you. I just don’t like doing it alone,” he chuckles.

You two set the mats up, and you hit the play button. You start off easy just to get your body used to bending and flexing before you go into the much harder positions. Since you’ve been doing this before you were healthy, you’re able to do these a lot easier than Sebastian can. He’s able to do the easy positions just fine, but when you get to the intermediate ones, that’s when he has a bit of trouble.

This one is a bit of cliche, but you love to do the Downward Dog pose as it stretches out your calves and your back. Sebastian can do it, but can only hold it for a few seconds before he needs to stop. You can hold it for much longer, which is why you’re still in the position when Sebastian falls back on his yoga mat.

“This is a lot harder than I thought it was going to be,” Sebastian laughs.

“Practice makes perfect, babe,” you laugh.

Sebastian can’t help but stare at your ass. The yoga pants make it looks so round and plump, and the yoga position makes it stick out. You don’t hear anything from him for another thirty seconds, and you peek over at him to see his eyes glued to your ass.

“Having fun?” you ask.

“What?” he mumbles.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” you joke.

“Can I?” he asks seriously.

All you do is laugh.

You’ve been working your ass off to get to where you are now. You used to be two hundred pounds, and now you’re down to one-fifty. It’s not your end goal, but you’re much happier than you were before. It’s all thanks to Sebastian, honestly. He’s the reason you’re alive. He’s the reason you’re healthy. He’s the reason you’re losing this much weight. He’s the reason why you’re so damn happy. You can’t imagine your life without him now.

It’s all because of him, and you can’t ever fully repay him.

The healthier you’ve become, the more you and Sebastian have been active together--in every sense of the word. There’s a lot more to sex than you thought, and you and Sebastian have been exploring every side of it together. It’s been amazing, but the one thing you haven’t prepared for is pregnancy, and you’re it.

Sebastian doesn’t know about the pregnancy, but since your birthday is near, you’re going to tell him then. It’s kind of like giving him a present, but it’s really for both of you. You know he’s planned a romantic dinner, so you’ll tell him then. Your birthday is not for another five days, but Sebastian wanted to have dinner before then. You know he’s just excited to celebrate with you, and you can’t blame him. There will be something special on the actual day, but you’re okay with celebrating it early.

“Sebastian, this is just beautiful,” you comment on the meal he’s prepared.

“Chris helped.”

“Well, I’ll thank him later, then.”

“Happy early birthday,” he grins.

He kisses you slowly, appreciating every inch of your lips.

“I have a present for you,” you whisper against his lips.

“For me? It’s your birthday.”

He grabs the wine and pours you both a glass, and you bite your lip nervously. You have to do this now because it’s going to seem weird if you don’t have the wine.

“Well, it’s for both of us. I just hope you like it.”

You grab the present that contains the two pregnancy sticks you’ve wrapped and hand it over to him. He doesn’t waste any time ripping it open. He’s curious about what it could be, and if there is one thing you know about Sebastian, is that he’s impatient when it comes to receiving presents. He practically tosses the tissue paper on the floor to get to the present, and when he has it in his hands, he just freezes.

It takes him a second for his brain to register just what he has in his hands, and he locks eyes with you. You do see happiness in his eyes, but you see fear masking it from the front. Why would he be scared about this? Does he not want a child? What will happen then?

“Are you okay?” you ask dreadfully.

“You’re pregnant?”

“It’d be a horrible joke if I wasn’t.”

“What if your body can’t handle pushing out a baby? What if you die during birth because you only have one kidney? What if--”

“Sebastian, calm down,” you interrupt, taking his hands in yours. “I’m going to die. Women with one kidney give birth all the time. I’m healthy. This baby is going to be healthy. I’ll be fine.”

“You promise?” he whispers.

“Yes, of course, I do.”

“We’re having a baby?”

“We’re having a baby,” you grin.

“You just totally ruined my present, but that’s okay,” he sniffles.

“What was your present?” you ask and set the tests off to the side.

He does say anything as he reaches into his jacket pocket to retrieve the ring he’s been holding onto for the past few weeks. He’s been trying to find the perfect time to pop the question and what better time to do it now? Chris helped him pick out the perfect ring after they basically raided your jewelry box when you weren't home.

He gets out of his chair and drops to one knee, and your right hand covers your mouth in shock. Tears spill down your cheeks and over your hand, but you ignore them.

“Suzanne, I haven’t been this happy in such a long time, and I knew from the moment I saw you that you would be the one I’d marry. I saw you becoming the mother of my children, I saw a white picket fence and a huge yard with two dogs. I picture dying at your side in our death beds when you’re eighty years old. I picture you by my side through it all, and that can only happy if you say yes. So, will you do me the honor of becoming your husband?”

“Yes,” you chuckle-cry.

He gets up and slides the ring onto your left ring finger, and you pull him in to kiss him. The food has been long forgotten, not even touched. To be honest, you’re not sure if it will ever be touched tonight because you have a lot of things on your mind, but food is not one of them. For example, you’re waiting until the baby is born before you start planning for a wedding because the stress that comes from being pregnant is enough for you to handle. You don’t need to add on the stress that comes with planning a wedding.

Chris stands off to the side with a wide smile on his face. All he wanted was some water, but he’s not thinking about that right now. Sebastian told him you were the one for him, and it’s true. He couldn’t find a better person for Sebastian, and he for you.

If you want to be tagged, add yourself to this document! If your tag doesn’t work, find out why!

@ivvitm1109 @kendall-michele @awkwardfangirl2014 @niall2017 @feelmyroarrrr @mackevanstanfan80 @fandomgirl17 @bluedazefangirl @tardis-is-mine @moonstar86 @tdntu0 @ferls212 @notyourtypicalrose @the-real-mary-jane-blog @miraclesoflove @tomhardy41 @emilyshurley @thejourneyneverendsx @ironmandeficiency @moonstar86 @mogaruke @awkwardfangirl2014 @alex12948 @bucky-odinson @bangtan-serendipity @gh0stgurl @justalonely-nerd @casseythebee @pinkdiamond1016

#marvel commission #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x ofc #sebastian stan fanfiction #sebastian stan fluff #sebastian stan fanfic #marvel #marvel fan fic #marvel fanfiction #marvel fluff

11 notes · View notes

calumance · 4 years

Text

LA Devotee - Part VIII

Warnings: much cussing, this part is pretty angsty, ends happily though!

Word count: 3k

Summary: With the guilt of Calum’s kindness eating away at Emily, she figures if he won’t accept payment, there’s only one way to repay him.

A/N: I just wanted to thank everyone for reading and sending me lovely messages. There are not enough words in the English language to explain how much I appreciate all of you. ❤️❤️ Happy reading!! Feedback and requests always welcomed!!! (Want to be notified when I post writing? Let me know, and I’ll tag you!)

When my alarm went off I felt like I could barely open my eyes, almost as if they were glued shut from the tears. Being that I cried myself to sleep, I woke up feeling tired and absolutely drained, like sleeping did almost nothing for me. A voice in the back of my head told me to call in and sleep the entire day, but a girl needs to eat. As I sat up on my bed, the crushing weight in my chest coming back made it hard to find the motivation to pull myself to my feet. Barely being able to keep my eyes open, I fumbled my way through my apartment to find the most lazy business casual outfit I could manage. Flats, leggings, an oversized sweater and a messy bun. As per my usual morning routine, I made my coffee and then left, except I didn’t think there was enough coffee in the world to help me get through this day.

Under the crushing weight of the boulder sitting on my chest, I could still feel a prick of light when I walked up to the car that is causing the pain. I stopped and stood back from the car for a minute, trying to decide if I actually deserved it or not. My head started to spin as I pulled my phone out and sent Calum a text:“I know I’ve thanked you a million times, I just don’t have any words to explain how I feel right now. Please let me know if there is a way I can repay you. Have a great day, Calum. Xx” As I dropped my phone into my bag, I shook the thoughts out of my head and walked to the car. The engine roared to life and I drove my drained self to work. It was different finding my way to the parking garage and walking into the building a different way than I normally do. I sat at my desk, Mikayla already sitting at hers eating her breakfast. “You look like shit, Emily.” She said with a mouth full of the muffin she was eating.

Although I wanted to be angry at her, not only did I not have the energy to be mad, but I also knew she was right. A sigh left my chest and I shook my head, “I feel like shit.” My eyes connected to Mikayla’s for a second and then I looked around to see if our boss was in yet. “Come with me real fast.” She nodded and I walked her out into the parking garage. We stood in front of my new car and she looked at me confused. When I pressed the unlock button on the keys, she raised her eyebrows. “He bought me a car, in full, and every time I ask him how he wants me to repay him, he says he doesn’t want to be repaid. I should be fucking ecstatic, right?” She nodded, a large smile stretched across her face, “I fucking cried myself to sleep last night. What the hell is wrong with me?” I squatted down to the point where my butt was hovering over the ground. My arms wrapped around my legs as the tears started to form in my eyes. My head shook as I tried to not let the tears spring free. “I feel so fucking guilty, Mikayla.”

She placed a hand on my back and told me to go back inside with her. I locked the car and we turned to go back inside, her arm linking with mine. She thought about her words for a minute before taking a breath and starting, “I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you, feeling guilty about something like that is totally normal. Especially because you’ve only really gone on one real date with him. It is weird for him to buy you a brand new car after one date. But, maybe that’s just the kind of guy he is?” She shrugged and let go of my arm as we reached our desks. “I also think that you’re feeling things you haven’t felt in a really long time. Like, from what you’ve told me, I don’t think your ex would’ve bought you a car even after being together for thirty years.” She smoothed down the back of her dress as she sat in her desk chair, “Mostly, I think you’re feeling a bit overwhelmed. You never really get a chance to sit down and talk to him, do you?” I shook my head, the only time we actually see each other is on the weekend, and when he shows up at my apartment at three in the morning. Mikayla shrugged as she pulled herself closer to her desk. “I still stand by the fact that you should tell him.” She wasn’t wrong, I just still didn’t want to.

Around noon, my phone went off, scaring the crap out of me since the ding of the ringtone always seems to be a hundred times louder than the music playing. Calum’s name popped up on my screen and my heart skipped a beat. “Good afternoon, Emily. For the millionth time, it’s not a problem. Come over on Friday and we’ll call it even. I hope you have a great day, talk to you later. Xx Cal.” My eyebrows pulled together and I dropped my phone onto my desk, placing my face in my palms. I looked over my computer at Mikayla who was deeply concentrated in what she was doing. I grab one of the headphones out of my ear, “He texts me telling me that if I go over to his house on Friday, he’ll call it even, but I still feel like shit.”

She stopped what she was doing and sat straight up to look at me, “So, stop worrying about it. If all he wants is to hang out with you and ‘date’ you, then date him.” She raised her eyebrows and twisted off the top of her water bottle to take a drink.

I ran my hands down my face and shook my head, “I just don’t want him, or anyone, to think I’m taking advantage of him. Because it’s not like I asked him to buy me the car, he just did it, but I can almost promise you people will see it as me taking advantage of him.” My hands dropped to my desk, causing some knick-knacks to clank and fall over. A few eyes looking at me in confusion. I made and apologetic face to everyone and his my face again.

Mikayla laughed, “I don’t think you’re taking advantage of him, and I’m pretty sure he doesn’t think you’re taking advantage of him, stop over thinking everything.” She stood and started grabbing her wallet from her bag. “Are you ready for lunch?” With a hasty nod, I grabbed my wallet and followed her to the elevator.

Mikayla sat next to me with her food as I read the message for the sixth time. I set my phone down and looked at Mikayla, “What even are we, Mikayla? Like, we’ve hung out multiple times, but we’ve only been on one date, and he buys me a fucking car.”

After taking a bite, Mikayla shrugged. “Maybe he considers you more.” She raised her eyebrows and chewed for a minute. “Maybe he considers you his girlfriend.”

My eyebrows stitched together as I stabbed my fork into my food a little harsher than normal, “Don’t you think it’s a little soon for that?” I looked at her without lifting my head and continued to assault my salad.

She shrugged and swallowed down her food, “Trevor told me he considered us boyfriend and girlfriend after two dates, from the day we met, two dates was two weeks. So, I guess it depends on the couple. However, I believe that you can be dating, and be boyfriend and girlfriend at the same time.” She took another bite and looked at me, “It’s just something you guys have to sit down and talk about.” I clenched my jaw and Mikayla rolled her eyes, “Listen, I know you like him, I’m actually pretty sure you like him more than you think. You are so scared of your past that you’re expecting this to fail. You need to relax, open up to him, and talk to him. Stop trying to hide who you are.”

I said nothing, she was right. I needed to stop hiding, and running from everything. That’s what I did when I moved here, I ran. In my defense, I had every reason to run from everything that I was running from, but I had almost no reason to run from Calum. With a bit more internal thinking, I finally decided to text him back, “Hi, Cal. The day’s going alright. I have a pretty busy week ahead of me, I would love to come over on Friday, is there anything you would like me to bring? Talk to you later. P.S. I’m afraid of the ocean.”

It didn’t take very long for him to reply. “No need to bring anything other than your beautiful self, also I think you’re crazy, but google says it’s a popular fear. Does that mean you won’t go to the beach? Xx” A smile stretched across my lips as my cheeks flushed a light pink.

My fingers danced across the screen as I responded to him, “Can’t wait until Friday. I’ll go to the beach, I just won’t swim. Xx” After the message sent, I locked my phone and smiled to myself, wanting the week to go as quickly as possible.

When Friday finally did come, I had gotten a little bit more sleep, but the weight that sat on my chest continued to make it hard to breathe. I pulled into Calum’s drive way and parked my car, gripping the steering wheel for half a second before shutting off the car. As I climbed out, I adjusted my blazer and threw my bag over my shoulder. Just as I approached the door, the weight fell from my chest and into my stomach, making me feel as if I was about the throw up on his doorstep. I grabbed my stomach and started to turn around and run away, but Calum opened the door before I could move. “Hey, I heard you pull in.” His eyes ran over me and a smile crept onto his lips. “You look really nice today.” He moved out of the way from the door to give me space to walk in. Before moving, I looked down at myself and thanked him, then sheepishly made my way past him into his house. “Do you want something to drink? I still have a bunch of those drinks I bought for you?”

“Sure, I’ll take one of those.” He walked into the kitchen and I put my bag on the table by the door. As I followed him into the kitchen, I looked out into his backyard and noticed the ground around his pool was wet. When I looked at him, his hair was wet, but he was wearing fresh clothes. He must’ve been swimming when I pulled up. I scratched the back of my head trying to not think about what his skin looks like wet.

His hand reaching toward me with a bottle in his hand pulled me out of my thoughts. As I twisted the cap off the bottle, he cracked open a beer for himself and looked at me, “How was your day?” He smiled as he pursed his lips, pressing the bottle against them to take a drink. I just nodded, which caused his eyebrows to pull together. “Is everything alright?” He asked lowering his arm so the bottle was hovering by his stomach.

“Can we go sit outside?” He nodded and we walked together out into his backyard. After I sat down in one of his wicker chairs, he sat in the one next to me. I continued to wander around in my thoughts until he asked me a second time if everything was alright, this time being a little more concerned. After licking my lips, I finally connected my eyes with his. His brown eyes coated in concern, making my stomach turn slightly. “I know you have told me a million times that I don’t owe you anything for the car, but I also know that I have been holding back on you. I wasn’t wanting to tell you about me for a while, but I finally decided that I am going to repay you by telling you everything there is to know about me.” He raised his eyebrows, but didn’t move a muscle. My voice suddenly became shaky, “But, I feel like once I do tell you everything that you’re not going to want to hang around with me anymore. Which, if that’s how you feel, I’ll respect that and go on my way.” I looked at him and waited for him to respond.

Calum’s eyebrows furrowed and his head tilted, his lips parted as if he wanted to say something, but they closed as he continued to stay silent. I sighed as I gathered the strength to tell him everything. My eyes closed as I thought about where to start. Instead of starting slow, a tsunami of word vomit fell from my mouth. “Three months ago, I moved here for a job, which you knew, but what you didn’t know was three months ago was when I signed all of the papers declaring my divorce.” I kept my eyes shut, squeezing them tighter, holding back my tears, “It was a shitty marriage, he was a shitty person, and it only lasted two years. He literally took everything I owned, including my car. The day I met you I got the finalized papers in the mail.” A wave of nausea washed over me and I wrapped my arms around my stomach, my eyes springing open to make sure if I did suddenly vomit, I knew where it was going to land. “I’m so traumatized by everything that happened to me, that I’m terrified that it’s going to happen to me again.” The tears fell down my cheeks, burning on the way down. As I wiped a tear off my face with my pointer finger, I looked at Calum whose eyes were still locked on me. “I’m not even sure if I should be afraid, though, because I don’t even know what we are. I just,” I couldn’t finish, tears began pouring down my cheeks like a waterfall.

Calum hurriedly put his drink on the table then grabbed either side of my face, brushing the tears away. “Hey,” He cooed, dropping himself so that was he at eye level with me, “Why would you think that would make it so that I didn’t want to hang out with you?”

My chin quivered trying to hold back more tears. “I didn’t want you to think less of me because I was married, and got a divorce. It was just a shitty relationship and I had to get out of it. I’m actually pretty sure it was an abusive relationship, but I’ve never been to therapy so that’s not exactly conclusive.”

My eyes fell away from his, and he moved his hands from my face to my shoulders, tugging on me slightly. “Oh, darling, come here.” As I pushed myself away from the chair, he fell backwards onto the ground, sitting do that I could find a place in his lap. He kissed my forehead then wrapped his arms around me, pulling me closer to him. My head fell onto his shoulder, and my face nuzzled into the crook of his neck, the tears pouring out again. I was tired, tired of holding this inside, tired of not being able to sleep, tired of fighting all of my demons. A wave of absolute hysterics washed over me as I sobbed into his shoulder, wrapping my arms around his torso. He put his hand on the back of my head and tried to calm me. I couldn’t calm down, everything was washing over me all at once, everything I had been feeling for the past three months finally overflowing.

Calum held onto me, waiting patiently for me to stop crying. It took a while, but I was finally able to compose myself. I apologized and he shook his head. “Don’t be sorry, everything you’re feeling is completely normal. I don’t have a great romantic past either. The last break up I went through was really ugly, and for a long time I wanted nothing to do with relationships.” He paused and I felt a lump in my throat. “But then I met you.” I lifted my head and looked into his eyes. His hand gently resting on the side of my face, “I don’t care that you got divorced, it doesn’t make you any less of a person. It more makes my heart hurt that someone hurt you like that.” His eyes flickered between mine and he ran his thumb up and down on my cheek, “I can promise you that I will never hurt you, ever.” He paused, and a smile returning to his face, “And if it’s alright with you, I’ve been referring to you as my girlfriend for a few days now. I can stop if you’re not comfortable with that.”

The feeling of wanting to cry washed over me again, but this time it was happy tears. Instead of crying, I grabbed his face and planted my lips on his. This kiss was different though, it was different knowing that I could kiss him whenever I wanted to. It was different knowing that I could refer to him as my boyfriend. Everything just felt different, but it also felt right. It finally felt like everything was right.

25 notes · View notes