#so I will take whatever few crumbs they give me and make a three-course meal out of it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

castexpectopatronum · 3 years

Text

Liquid Amber - Part III [Remus Lupin x Reader Imagine]

Summary: You had been crushing on Remus Lupin for an eternity when you finally decided to ask him out. However, things do not go as planned and you remain wondering just what exactly is going on with this boy.

notes: reupload because the original got deleated

trigger warnings: none

word count: 1.9k

Masterlist

What was Remus Lupin hiding?

The question was burning inside of you ever since your encounter in the corridor a few days ago. And even though you knew that it was none of your business, you still were determined to find out.

Concerning this matter, it was fortunate you fancied Remus as that made you far more observant of him. Whenever you could, you shot glances at him, during meals and classes, and paid special attention to his behaviour. You did notice that he seemed rather sick, he looked pale and peaky and he seemed to be growing weaker by each day.

Then, he disappeared. When you stepped into the Transfiguration classroom one day, already late, only to find his seat empty, a deep frown appeared on your face. His friends, James, Sirius and Peter, were there, but unusually quiet and had black shadows under their eyes. Peter even fell asleep during the lesson; his soft snores filled the classroom until Sirius nudged him with his ellbow causing Peter to almost fall from his chair. You observed them carefully while pretending to listen to Professor McGonagall’s lecture. Perhaps the Marauders had pulled off an all-nighter of some sort but that still didn’t explain Remus’ absence. Maybe he had a hangover – although you failed to imagine Remus as some kind of party animal.

Remembering how sickly he had looked the day before, you decided to check the Hospital Wing for him and bring Remus some chocolate bars from Honeyduke’s which you knew he loved.

However, when you entered the Hospital Wing, you found that it was already occupied. James, Sirius and Peter were huddled around a bed at the far corner of the room, hiding the person lying in it from your view. The expression upon their faces turned into one of surprise once they spotted you, mirroring your own.

“Sorry,” you said, taken aback by their presence – although now that you thought about it, you should have expected it. “I didn’t know you were here. I was just looking for Remus.”

The three of them exchanged looks, as if they knew something you didn’t, and stood up.

“No problem, we just wanted to leave, anyway,” Sirius said. Next moment, he groaned all of a sudden, leaving you to raise your eyebrows in surprise. James bent down to whisper something in Remus’ ear who looked rather alarmed. He replied something in a hushed voice but James simply gave him a crooked grin, patted him gently on the shoulder and barely gave Sirius and Peter the chance to say their goodbyes before he pushed them towards the door. Playing with your sleeves, you observed them with furrowed eyebrows.

“Y’know, if it’s not a good time, I can come back tomorrow or-”

“Nonsense, the time is perfect,” James interrupted.

“Just make sure to be gentle with him,” said Peter in a concerned voice. “He’s been through a lot.”

Your frown deepened. “What do you mean?”

“Just a nasty flu, tha’s all,” said Sirius quickly, shooting Peter a warning glance. “Nothing to worry about. Give it a few days and he’ll be as good as new.” He turned to his friends. “C’mon, we best be going.” They shot you one last glance and Peter flashed a smile, then the door closed behind them, the sound echoing in the room, leaving you and Remus alone in the Hospital Wing.

You turned around to him and chuckled nervously. “Well, that did not quite go as I expected.”

Remus didn’t laugh. He didn’t smile. He didn’t give any indication whatsoever that he was happy to see you. He simply stared at you, his eyes shining like liquid amber.

“What are you doing here?”

“I missed you in class today. Here.” You placed the chocolate bars on the nightstand next to his bed. “A little something to cheer you up. Thought you could use it.”

Remus nodded weakly. “Thank you,” he muttered and watched you sit down on a chair.

You smiled sheepishly. “So, the flu, eh?”

Remus shrugged and pulled the blanket up to his chin. “Happens to the best of us.”

You took in his appearence with furrowed eyebrows. Remus was whiter than the bedsheets, his face was hallow, and his eyes, usually so attentive and full of warmth, were now dull. Dark bags circling them, and he looked very thin and weak. You doubted he even had the strength to get up.

“How are you feeling?”

Remus turned his head away from you and looked up at the ceiling. “I’m fine.”

You cocked your head. “And Dumbledore isn’t two-hundred years old.”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “I don’t think he’s quite that old.”

“How would you know? Do you know when he was born?”

“No wizard gets that old.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if Dumbledore did. The man is ancient.”

This finally evoqued a smile from him which you couldn’t help but return. But he remained silent.

“You don’t really have the flu, do you?”

Remus’ head spun around, and although he hid it quickly and put on a neutral expression, you did not miss the flash of panic in his eyes.

“Of course I have the flu. What else should I have?”

“Remus, you’re as white as a ghost. The flu is terrible but it doesn��t make you look as if you’re on the brink of death.”

The moment the words left your mouth, you knew you had hit a nerve. Remus’ jaw clenched and his eyes suddenly turned colder. He turned his head to stare at the ceiling, avoiding the worried yet piercing look in your eyes.

“It’s a nasty one.”

You snorted. “Sure. Don’t try and fool me, Remus. I know a flu when I see it and whatever it is that you have, it’s not that.”

He didn’t respond.

You sighed, regretting the harsh tone in your voice. “Listen, Remus... You don’t have to tell me what you have or why you get sick so often. But... I just want you to know that I’m there for you if you ever do want to talk about it. And whatever it is – I can’t imagine it could change my opinion on you.” You gave your best to give him an encouraging smile and stood up. “You should eat some chocolate. You’ll feel better afterwards.”

You knew he wouldn’t answer but still lingered for several moments to a least give him the opportunity to. When your conviction proved to be right, however, you gave him one last half-hearted smile and left the Hospital Wing.

A part of you had hoped that after this incident Remus and you would grow closer but instead Remus was more determined than ever to avoid you. Every time you passed him in the hallway, you felt a painful sting in your heart. However, the original issue of Remus refusing to go out with you became less and less important to you although your crush on him grew stronger by each day.

Your academic success was quite average but you weren’t stupid – to you there was no doubt that Remus’s illness was the cause of all this trouble, also considering he often looked pale and sickly. Every time you saw him looking particularly weak, your wish to help him grew even more urgent than before but you could only help him with his condition if you knew what it was – and trying to get Remus to open up about his sickness was about as effective as convincing James of writing a love letter to Snape.

It was two months of this slow torture and several stupid theories later that you realised Remus’s sickness was not only a frequent but also regular occurence. As far as you remembered, he seemed to be getting sick every once a month.

A deep frown appeared on your face and you turned around in your seat to look at Remus who was taking notes on Professor Flitwick’s words. His face was pale again with dark bags circling his eyes. A strange cut peaked out from under his shirt collor.

As if he had felt your intent gaze, Remus suddenly lifted his head. For one moment, is amber eyes burned into yours, then his intense expression turned into one of guilt and he quickly looked back down at his notes.

That day you merely picked at your food, your thoughts far away. Your friend watched in concern as you ripped a breadroll into tiny little pieces without eating any of it, staring absent-mindedly onto the wooden table.

“(Y/N), are you alright?”

Startled, you looked up, halting in your motion. “Yeah, I uh...” You hesitated, looking at the breah crumbs in your hand. “Actually, I still got something to do, uh...” Pushing your plate away, you stood up from the dining table, your friend watching you in confusion. “I’ll catch you up later,” you promised and left the Great Hall before your friend had even opened their mouth to protest.

The library was dead quiet as every student was at dinner which was very much to your liking. That way you could follow your suspicions without having to worry about anybody asking unwanted questions.

Pensively, you let your fingers brush over the back of the old books until you finally pulled one out, feeling the weight of it in your hands. You viewed the cover thoughtfully for a moment before you tucked it under your arm and continued to collect more books.

Half an hour later, you carried a great stash of books out of the library, carefully transporting them the long way to your common room as they didn’t all fit into your bag.

“What the hell is that?” your friend asked incredulously as you entered your dorm room and let the books fall onto your bed where they scattered all over your blanket.

“Books,” you answered.

Your friend raised their eyebrows. „Really,“ they said blankly. „Good thing you explained that, I had no idea.“ You threw them an half-annoyed, half-amused glance as they strolled over to your bedside and viewed the book titles.

“Magical Diseases and Epidemics,” they read aloud, “Dragon Pox or Measles? An Encyclopedia on Magical Maladies.” They raised their head to look at you, their eyebrows raised so high they almost disappeared in their hairline. “Are you sick?”

“No,” you said, shaking your head, and started stacking the books on the nightstand, pushing your friend aside as you did. “It’s ... a new hobby.”

“A hobby?”

“Yes. That’s what you call an enjoyable freetime activity.”

“I didn’t know purulent dragon pox were an enjoyable free time activity.”

You threw her an annoyed glance as you put another book on the growing stack. “It’s an interesting topic as I have realised.”

“And you had to skip dinner to get those books?”

“Yes,” you said, avoiding your friend’s eyes.

You knew they didn’t believe a single thing you said but thankfully, they didn’t further inquire. Instead, they rolled their eyes and let themselves fall onto their own bed. “I always knew you were weird,” they said. “Just make sure you don’t actually get sick. I don’t fancy getting dragon pox.”

“No one is going to get dragon pox,” you replied, but a small smile was tugging at your lips. The two of you walked down to your common room to do your homework which, although you had quite some trouble concentrating on, you hurried to finish, so you could get back to your books.

Remus Lupin had a problem and you were determined to find out what it was.

#remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin imagines #liquid amber #part iii #marauders era imagine #marauders imagine

66 notes · View notes

saphirered · 3 years

Note

I have a request! How about a pre!Caleb x reader with a runechild reader that has been with Caleb and Nott from pre-stream? What would their friendship dynamic be with the two and how does Caleb react to them being hunted for experimentation by various magic users.

I’m so sorry this took so long to write. Double shifts have been killing me but I’m still trying to get these requests out regardless in whatever free time I get. I hope this one’s to your liking. It turned out pretty long 😅 . Enjoy regardless 😘

Prison. How did it come to the point where being stuck in a jail would be both the best and worst place for you to be? At least those after you wouldn’t be able to get you without getting in a lot of trouble or jumping through legal hoops giving you enough time to plan your escape.

When word got out you were a runechild people praised you… and hunted you discovering your worth as a conduit for the natural magics as well as an arcane power source. You learned many before you were hunted and killed, or enslaved for just this fact so when people came knocking you weren’t going to stick around and find out their intentions and plans for you. You value your own life more than that no matter how curious you may be about what it means to be a runechild.

Being on the run has its good sides; new places, new people and new experiences. The down side, no stability, no security and no long term friends, always on the road with barely a moment to breathe but at least you’re alive and not held captive and squeezed for every bit of arcane juju in your body. Though, you have to say you do miss having friends. Luckily you’re not the only one on the run from selfish mages with ulterior motives and as they say, birds of a feather…

You’re sitting in the corner of your cell head leaning back against the wall and one knee propped up. There’s barely any light bleeding through the narrow window up high, the only way you’ve been able differentiate day from night and count how long you’ve been here. Time’s running out. You’ll have to make your escape soon. The guard schedule is the most difficult as you don’t see yourself overpowering all of them. Sure you can charm a few but brute strength isn’t really your thing and you’re kinda squishy compared to the armoured folks trying to keep people from escaping… You weren’t going to take your chances there and draw more attention to yourself.

The barred door opens, the sound pulling you back to reality to see a rather filthy looking man and a child? Halfling? being pushed into your cell. Great. Company. Not like that eliminates what few plans you had… The door is closed behind them by the guard that gives the small person a kick in the back for good measure. You don’t respond as they cry out about to turn back around and attack the guard but are stopped by the man. The duo sees you as the guard leaves and sticks to the opposite side of your humble abode sitting down together and whisper.

This would be the next few days; these new roommates of yours sticking to themselves barely speaking at all when not whispering. Not like you could blame them. You weren’t about to stick your nose in their business just like they hadn’t. Though, what you wouldn’t do for some warmth during the colder times like the small one, a goblin you learned, snuggled up with the raggedy man. When was even the last time you had a hug? It feels like ages. Whatever they had going on, you had to say you were slightly envious. At least they had each other. You were all alone and would remain alone for the foreseeable future. You’d give the world if that meant you could have something like they do.

It’s been a few days since you were given any food. You’re hungry and by the grumbling stomachs of the man and goblin, so are they. Then the guard came by throwing a single slice of bread through the bars. Both you and the goblin scurry forward diving for the slice and you get it.

“This isn’t enough for all of us!” You shout after the guard holding onto the slice.

“It’s all you’re getting. Share or fight for the scraps.” The guard calls nibbling on some piece of fruit or something. The goblin woman curses after the guard who stops in his tracks. You quickly glance between the raggedy man and the goblin as the guard walks over to the bars. Casting the spell with nothing but your mind as the guard’s distracted by the screeching cursing woman, the guard’s form relaxes a little bit and eyes turn to you.

“I’m so sorry about her, my friend. You wouldn’t be able to help us out, would you? It’s been a few days since we’ve eaten and we’re growing hungry. Could you be a dear and fetch us some good and proper food quickly? I’d greatly appreciate it.” You bat your eyelashes and smile innocently. The guard nods happily and hands you a pouch filled with what he was snacking on.

“I’ll be back with more but please take this for now.” The guard says before he’s off to find you more food. You let out a breath of relief that it worked. You open the pouch and see some fresh berries. The goblin stares at you in confusion as the guard went from asshole to friendly in a split second. You hand her the slice of bread.

“Now let’s hope the asshole returns within the hour.” You make your way back to your corner and sit down in your usual spot. While you do nibbling on the berries you feel the man’s eyes burn into you or rather a dimly glowing rune on your lower arm. You quickly shift hiding it, staring him down until he averts his gaze. You see from the corner of your eyes as the woman offers to share the slice of bread with the man with a slight hesitation. That amount of food is going to do next to nothing to sate an empty stomach for one, let alone two people. You look down at the pouch of berries while you pop one in your mouth.

Cursing to yourself you get up, walk over to their side of the cell and sit down a couple feet away from them. You think for a second, pour some of the berries in your hand and hold it stretched out towards the man.

“Look, we’ve seen you charmed the guard with your wiles to give you food but do you have to rub it in our faces too?!” The woman screeches petting the man’s shoulder in comfort.

“I don’t think they’re taunting us. I think they’re offering to share.”

“Take them before I change my mind.” You’re still half deliberating on eating them yourself with how hungry you had grown in the past few days. The goblin calms down demeanour instead turning to confusion trying to find some ulterior motive while the man takes the berries with a brief smile and shares them with the woman.

The room turns silent again for the next thirty minutes or so before the guard returns with some plates of fresh food. Bread, not stale, butter, a couple of cuts of meat and even some steamed vegetables and rice. You rush over to the bars a little quicker than you’d wanted but even the smell’s enough to make your mouth water. You take the plates offering the guard a charming smile.

“Thank you very much, my friend. We won’t forget your generosity. Now why don’t you be back on your way and we’ll keep this our little secret alright?”

“Yeah, of course. Let me know if you need anything else.” The guard nods before leaving the three of you.

“You lot still hungry because this needs to be gone in the next thirty minutes or so.” The man pats a spot next to him and the goblin and you rush over handing them their own plates the three of you shoving down the food as fast as you can, to the crumbs, licking the plates clean. Not your finest perhaps but it only shows how long it’s been since any of you had a proper meal. After you return to your usual silence but remain seated with them.

The consequences of your spell usage came as you expected and resulted in some bruises for you but they were worth it. Since you shared the food and took full responsibility for your actions the man, Caleb and goblin, Nott had grown a little more open with you and the three of you came to a nonverbal understanding to share what you got and distribute fairly. In the mean time you’d still been plotting your escape but your stunt had put a bit of a dent in that as they changed up the guard schedule too. Time’s running out.

It’s afternoon and you’re laying on the floor curled up shivering from the cold facing away from Caleb and Nott. Your breath is visible in the air, the day unusually cold. A small hand touches your shoulder so you turn to see Nott giving you a pitied look. You sit up a little still shaking breathing into your hands and rubbing them together in the hopes of getting some warmth going. Nott grabs onto your hand and slowly pulls you in the direction of Caleb where she had been sitting before. You don’t resist as she sits you down right next to Caleb. You can’t help but cling onto him a little, responding to the warmth he brings and he does the same. While the difference is minimal, it’s better than none. Nott curls up in between the both of you on your laps using part of your coat to wrap around her, your own little heating pad against your stomachs.

Caleb snaps his fingers and you feel soft fur scratch your neck, weight of a paw shifting to your shoulder and settle down. Looking down you see a bengal cat cuddle up like a scarf between you and Caleb. You make eye contact with the man. While your knowledge of the arcane might be limited you put one and one together and recognise the cat to be a familiar. You scratch the orange fuzz-ball’s head a little making it purr.

“That trick you pulled a few days ago, you think you could do it again?” Caleb asks, voice shaky from the cold. You nod.

“Good. We’re gonna need it if we want to get out of here. Together.”

The next few days are repeated in kind, the cold sticking and freezing to death isn’t on any of your schedules. Caleb showed you a little trick of his to keep you warm when you were sure no guards would be near. The flame in his hands and cuddly cat Frumpkin, offered you some warmth and comfort when you most needed it.

One day you’re in Caleb’s embrace, Nott in yours and you’re huddled together, when you feel some kind of amulet hidden beneath the layers of Caleb’s clothes. Caleb notices you noticed and freezes up.

“Don’t worry I’m not going to steal it. Is it from your home?” You assure and while he grows a tiny bit less rigid he’s not back to his usual self.

“You could say that.” Caleb speaks absentmindedly, sounding a little stuck in his head.

“So not a good memory then. I won’t pry.” This puts him more at ease. He reaches into the neckline of his shirt and pulls out the amulet running his thumb over it. Curious what it looks like you’re slightly taken aback it matches something you’ve managed to keep hidden on your person too.

“Looks like we have more in common than I thought. People with those kind of trinkets usually intend to stay hidden from people with a tendency to stick their arcane noses where they shouldn’t.” You take out the similar amulet from beneath your robes and show it. You’d rather not go into the details of how you procured this object. What matters is you have it and it keeps you safe from more persistent folks.

“It appears so. If you don’t mind me asking, who would you be running from to need such an item?” You notice some wariness behind Caleb’s curiosity. Mistrust perhaps?

“No one in particular that I know of currently. It’s more of a precaution you see. The… origins of my abilities make me very wanted by those of arcane interests. They’d see me caged like some pretty songbird to be shown off to their friends or in chains, to be used as a power source for their spells and rituals without my consent. Certain powerful mages have been made aware of my presence in the Dwendalian Empire and seek to use me for their own plots. I prefer my freedom and staying out of their clutches.” You explain. You have no reason to hide this from Caleb. It just wasn’t relevant before.

“I think I have a feeling I know about these individuals and believe me when I say you’re better off staying far away from them. I intend to do the same.” Caleb puts the amulet back in its place hidden from sight and you do the same.

“A common interest then? Since we’re running from the same thing, perhaps sticking together after our grand escape until our paths diverge works in our benefit?” You deliberate as Nott listens along. You expected her to be asleep but apparently she had been listening too.

“You can protect us and we protect you. You can study and learn together and become more powerful. We’ll protect each other. Caleb?” Nott speaks as she grabs yours and Caleb’s hands in her small ones giving them a light squeeze.

“I don’t see why not.” Caleb mutters seeing the benefit in sticking together for the foreseeable future. He looks at you waiting for your answer.

“I guess. If you’ll have me, I’d very much appreciate the company.”

And so you decided to stick together. Your breakout, not without its hiccups, successful regardless. You did as you agreed and had each other’s backs leaving your prison days far behind. You make a great team swindling people, stealing what you need to get by. Life on the road is hard but much more bearable with these two at your side. Nott has very much taken the mother role when it comes to the two of you, making sure you’ve eaten enough, studied enough and sleep instead of sticking in the books with Caleb. She’ll cuddle up to your side even on the warmer nights wrapping her arms around your arm or sides. Caleb shares his knowledge with you, as much as he can anyway hence the two of you studying together. He’s taken up the role of tutor and friend very well. The three of you while a little rocky at first have a good thing going on. You’re more than just friends. You’re family. You look out of each other no matter what and you stick together until the bitter end through think and thin because at the end of the day; birds of a a feather, stick together.

#critical role x reader #mighty nein x reader #critrole x reader #caleb widogast x reader #nott x reader

83 notes · View notes

yoditorian · 3 years

Text

The Pancake King

javier peña/reader

yeah i know i said i had no more wip space but then i had a headcanon idea which turned into a note on my phone which turned into,,,,this, which might turn into something else but for now it’s a standalone oneshot that can be read as a sequel to this

main masterlist

word count: 2.5k // warnings: some swears, unnamed boyfriend cheating, food, work stress mentions

This week really, really doesn’t want to give you a break.

The mountain of paperwork waiting for signatures and stamps only seems to get bigger, obscuring half the office from your little corner desk. Every time you have a moment to get through a few of them, you’re pulled into somebody else’s office for a meeting, or someone needs you to double check one of their own forms, or you have to clean up somebody else’s mess. As usual.

And then there’s your life outside of work, if you can even call it that. But your air conditioner is broken and the mailman keeps giving your letters to everyone but you, it seems, and it’s too fucking hot during the day to have to deal with any of this shit.

So you took the day, called in with a fake-cold and promised you’d be back in tomorrow. How much could the office fall apart in just one day? The air conditioning is still broken, but you’d gone out and bought three of the biggest fans you could find. Problem one, sort of solved. The mailman is his own mystery, seemingly vanishing into thin air as soon as you’d spotted him on the sidewalk, at least Connie was in to give you the mail that had gotten mixed up with hers. That, and you’d managed to sneak in some baby cuddles with Olivia. There’s not much you can do about the weather itself, besides wear as little as can be considered publicly decent and pray for the thunderstorm the weather forecast keeps promising is on its way.

Only, as luck always has it, things get worse.

You’d called the boyfriend you left back home, just like you do at the same time every Thursday night. And some chirpy woman had answered, introducing herself as his girlfriend. And that was the last straw.

You can’t even remember what you told her, now. Something about how he could drop the key to your apartment back with your best friend, maybe something along the lines of how he can go fuck himself too. That sounds about right. You’d hung up before she could say anything else.

It’s just you and the wall now, the television not even good enough company to quiet the stress of literally everything in your life. You’re vaguely aware of your stomach rumbling, although you’re not sure you have the energy to get up and root around in your fridge. You ate the last of the leftovers in there yesterday anyway, and you’re pretty sure everything else involves some kind of preparation. Which you really don’t have the energy for. Sleep, sleep can be your dinner tonight.

Javier and Steve get back from the office at the same time Connie comes trotting down the stairs to leave for a shift.

“Can one of you check on them?” She asks, pulling on her cardigan to keep off the evening breeze. There’s something in her tone that has Javier’s brow furrowing even further than it usually is, and it doesn’t go unnoticed by either of the Murphys.

“Last time we spoke, I thought they were gonna hit me,” Steve raises his eyebrows in disbelief, a little too dramatically, “This one’s on you, Peña.”

He’s off up the stairs before Javier can argue that he probably, definitely, is the last on the list of people you want to see if you’re having a bad day. He’s responsible for half the forms waiting on your desk, seemingly doubled over the course of the day. That, and his comforting skills aren’t exactly legendary. Connie, for all her tact, shrugs apologetically at him before she’s leaving too, and he’s left standing in the hall wondering exactly what it is he’s supposed to do now.

He remembers his bad day, the really bad one, a few months ago. How you turned up on his doorstep with homemade nachos and a smile, exactly what he needed before he even knew it himself. He hears his father in his head, waxing poetic about the way that people comfort others is often the way they like to be comforted. And, honestly, who doesn’t like a good meal when everything feels a little bit against them?

Javier can’t cook, he’s not arrogant enough to pretend that he can make anything off the top of his head. Nor is he certain he has any of the ingredients for anything in the cookbook Steve had bought him as a joke for the Christmas just gone. There is one option though, he just hopes it’s the right one as he starts to pull a frying pan out of the cupboard.

You’re surprised when there’s a knock at your door and you have to struggle out of your blanket for a minute, your ass numb from sitting on the ground for too long. It’s probably only Connie, checking that you’ve eaten. She’ll see right through your lie but you doubt she’ll push it, only remind you to eat breakfast with a stern look that you know she only pulls out for her most difficult patients. You’re not sure when that privilege extended to you.

It’s not Connie.

Javier stands in the light of the hallway, a foil covered plate in his hands, and looking like he’d rather be literally anywhere else. You start to wish you hadn’t worn your blanket like a cape to answer the door.

“I, um-” He can’t seem to pick where to look, eyes settling somewhere to the right of your head before he tries again, “You had a bad day.”

Oh, oh, he really couldn’t have tried harder. It’s an odd parallel of a moment, months ago, when you barged your way into his apartment with nachos and good intentions. There’s an uncomfortable swell of something right under your lungs and you beg it to stay quiet. He gestures with the plate in his hands, the smell of sugar and sweetness wafting out from underneath it, and your stomach gurgles. The sound pulls a giggle from both of you, and things start to feel a lot more comfortable.

“Welcome to the pit of despair.” You laugh, gesturing for him to follow you in and toward the kitchen.

You pull your last two clean forks out of the cutlery drawer as Javier sets the plate down on the kitchen table and reveals whatever it is he spent the time and effort to make. Just for you.

Pancakes.

And, honestly, you couldn’t imagine anything more Javier. He barely leaves the office, and you’re pretty sure you’ve only ever seen him eat outside of his desk when Connie forces him to come to dinner. You can’t stop the smile that slips onto your face, the first one all week if you’re being honest.

“What?” He asks, taking the fork you offer out to him and settling down in the chair across from you.

“You made me pancakes?” Your voice is smaller than you expect it, the intention of his actions catches in your throat and makes you a little more emotional than you thought it would. He looks like he’s about to say something else, but thinks better of it when you reach out with your fork and rip a chunk out of the stack of frankly perfect looking offerings.

And they are perfect. Fluffy and light and sweet and wonderful. An odd juxtaposition to their chef, but you don’t think about it. You don’t think about anything, you sit and eat in silence and try to prolong this one moment of peace for as long as you can.

It ends sooner than you want it to. Every last crumb devoured between the two of you, and suddenly everything doesn’t seem so bad. Pancakes will do that.

He’’s gathering up the plate and forks before you can protest, moving wordlessly to tackle the pile of dishes that you’ve been ignoring in your sink for the last couple of days.

Javier can’t help himself when he spots the stack of dishes behind you. You’ve looked like you’re on the verge of crying since you opened the door and if there’s one chore that’ll reduce someone to tears, it’s doing the dishes. So he doesn’t even think about it, just collects the empty plate and pulls the fork out of your hand and gets to work.

You’re about to protest, tell him something about how you can deal with it, or that it’s late and he should go home, get some sleep. He knows you well enough, and your face when he turns to look at you over the shoulder as the hot water starts running proves as much. Just as you know the no-nonsense look on his face isn’t one you want to argue with. He waits, watching, for you to rise from the table and shuffle back towards the living room, listens carefully for the sound of you flopping onto the couch, before turning back to the sink and getting to work.

It’s times like these he wishes he asked more questions, then he might know what prompted you to call out with a cold when you’re clearly the picture of health. Physically, anyway. Although sometimes he thinks you could be all kinds of sick, and that little voice in his head would still tell him you’re pretty. If he knew, or had any kind of hunch, he could help a little more than this. Pancakes and dirty dishes only go so far, although he’s never been great at comforting people beyond his cousins’ scraped knees when they were little. It’s not a case of ignoring any time you’ve opened up about your life outside of work, there’s always some part of his brain ready to soak up your every word like a sponge. Maybe it is as simple as that, maybe it’s just work that has gotten a bit too much. Maybe it’s a combination of things.

The dishes are neatly lined up on the drying rack before he even notices he’s finished, fishing around in the bottom of the sink for a full minute until he realises everything has been washed.

You’re still sitting on the couch when he comes through to the living room, hands dried and clean. You shuffle up to make room for him, having just dumped yourself unceremoniously in the middle of the cushions, and keep your eyes on the dormant television in front of you. You’re expecting him to say something, to tell you it’ll be okay, or that everything will work itself out, or that it probably won’t seem like a big deal in the morning. He’d be right, it probably won’t. But right now, all you can feel is the weight that settled on your chest as the whole of the past week makes itself comfortable.

You pull the blanket tighter against you, shoulders straining the thin fabric, as if you could squash all your problems until they disappear. But they only seem to get bigger.

“You remember my boyfriend, back home?” You’re quiet, more so than you had been earlier. As if you’re afraid of the words as you speak them.

He does remember. The guy came down to visit once, only a few weeks after you’d been transferred. Steve had done his best to befriend the guy, where Javier hadn’t extended anything beyond a handshake and a raised eyebrow in your direction. Not that he didn’t like him (he didn’t, still doesn’t, but that’s besides the point), but all Javier really remembers is your disappointment come Monday morning when you’d trudged into the office and told them he’d had to leave early. Work emergency. It had smelt like bullshit then, it smells like bullshit now. Still, he nods, and lets you continue.

“Not only mine, turns out.” It all comes out in one breath, and all he can do is watch as you curl even further into yourself. Scumbag. Sure, Javi’s been around the block a little, or a lot, but he’s never stooped so low as to cheat on anybody. He’s above that, at least.

The barely audible sniffle from under your blanket pulls him right out of thinking of all the ways he could make this guy’s life hell back home, and he sends a prayer up to whoever’s listening that he won’t make it worse with what he’s about to do.

A soft tug on the corner of your blanket is the only warning you get, and suddenly you’re being pulled across the length of the couch until you’re half in his lap.

“Javi.” You manage, barely hanging on to your composure. You know he knows that, but you don’t know why he won’t leave you to it.

The look on your face just about breaks his heart. All big watery eyes and confusion, the nickname you so rarely use sounds so soft whispered in the air between you. You’re already beginning to crumble, if only from the way he’s holding you like you’ll shatter with the slightest breeze. Maybe you will.

It’s the tenderness that gets you, in the end. How he seems to just know what you need, far better than anyone else has in a long time. The weight of his arms around you, gentle but firm, makes it suddenly difficult to breathe past the lump in your throat as the tears start to fall. And Javier holds you through it all. Even though you’re both at an awkward angle and you’re pretty sure his leg is trapped underneath you, he doesn’t budge. It’s easy to forget, alongside your easy camaraderie with Steve, that Javier works with you all day every day too.

It can’t be more than an hour later that he feels you slump against him and your breathing begins to even out, save for the occasional stray hiccup. Something about the way you’ve snuggled into him, head on his chest and fingers fisted in the soft black t-shirt he reserves for cold nights and bad days. A crack of thunder and sudden downpour of rain jolts you as you sleep, sends you even further into his embrace, and he holds you to him a little tighter. It’s nice, oddly. Even though having you so close makes his heart want to burst right out of his ribcage.

At least the rain sends a welcome gust of cool air through the open bedroom window, swirling down the hall and mercifully circling around the living room.

Javier tugs the blanket out from around you, just enough to cover the both of you, and shuffles as much as he dares to try and get comfortable. You need the sleep, and he’s not about to take it from you just for the sake of blood flow in his leg. You barely notice when he settles, comfortable even on your old couch and the weight of a grown human on top of him. His back will kill him in the morning, but you’ll have rested better for it and that’s a small price to pay.

He tries not to think too hard about what that might mean.

TAGLIST (add yourself here):

@bee-dameron @keeper0fthestars @thevoiceinyourheadx @firstofficerwiggles @1800-fight-me @ew-erin @chatterbean @darnitdraco @greeneyedblondie44

#once again i am a CLOWN #anyway pls take the third bit of writing i did today #the pancake king #narcos #javier peña #javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #liz does words #sfw

122 notes · View notes

httpknjoon · 3 years

Text

once again │myg; 1

plot│ How can an eight year relationship turned as a bitter past? Can such thing can be rekindled once again? After your friend invited you to come to your home country after a long time, you decided to visit for three weeks. In three weeks, many things can happen. Including meeting Min Yoongi once again.

genres│ angst, little fluff over there, exes!au

word count│3.4k

pairings │yoongi x reader, taehyung x reader (esp in this chapter)

masterlist | once again — preview

Are you nervous? Happy? Excited? Sad? Or angry?

You don’t know.

Wheels were rolling everywhere. Some people seem to be struggling and hurrying with their own kinds of stuff. While others are just sitting peacefully, knowing that they are still early for their flights. On the other side, you were sitting on a cold, metal, airport seating. Looking around, you were waiting for someone to arrive before you leave.

“Is everything okay? I mean, your stuff? You already have everything you should bring right?”

You panned your eyes to your side. Naeun, your best friend, is looking at you worriedly with her puffed eyes. You nodded with a tight-lipped smile and wandered your eyes around the place again. Naeun watched you at first. She knew you were waiting for someone. And she was also aware that you were nervous based on how your fingers fidget on your luggage’s handle. You kept on biting your lower lip unconsciously.

“Did you two talked already? Did he said he’s going?” Naeun asked.

“Yes and no.” You answered, already knowing who she was talking of. “Yes, we talked. I told him that we can work on our relationship as long as we have our phones or laptops. But, you know how Yoongi feels about goodbyes, right?”

“Yeah.”

“But, I am just hoping that maybe he will drop by to hug or kiss me for one last time.” You sighed deeply, looking down.

A month ago, you were over the moon after receiving an e-mail that you passed for a job as a column writer for a magazine. It was your dream job. Plus, you will be traveling to a new country, Canada. You were literally going to the other side of the world, a thousand miles away. The main reason why your boyfriend was literally against you, accepting this job, in the first place. You and Yoongi have been together for eight years but this will be the first time that you two will be far from each other.

“Good evening, passengers. This is the pre-boarding announcement for flight YYZ 2308 to Toronto, Canada. We are now inviting passengers to begin boarding at this time. Please have your boarding pass and identification ready. Regular boarding will begin in approximately ten minutes. Thank you.”

Only ten minutes left. You were still hoping for Yoongi to come. Squeezing your eyes close, you secretly prayed for him to maybe arrive somewhere here.

“I think you should go,” Naeun said.

“No, I still have a few minutes.” You tried to sound positive and waited over and over until...

“This is the final boarding call for passengers booked on flight YYZ 2308 to Toronto, Canada. Please proceed to gate 2 immediately. The final checks are being completed and the captain will order for the doors of the aircraft to close in approximately ten minutes. I repeat. This is the final boarding call for passengers booked on flight YYZ 2308. Thank you.”

“Okay.”

That was your final call. You and Naeun stood up from your seats. Naeun began crying once again as she hugs you before you board your flight.

“Take care there, Y/N. Don’t overwork yourself. Don’t skip meals, okay?” Your best friend told you, sounding like a parent to her child.

“Thank you so much, Naeun. I’ll try calling you when I arrive there. I will miss you and everyone. Tell them that I’ll miss them too.” You hugged her tightly.

The hug did not last long and you are now proceeding to Gate Two. The attendant greeted you after you handed your boarding pass and identification card.

“Wait, Y/N.”

Yoongi was the one who runs to you since you were already in the line. His chest was heaving as he hugged you.

“You came.” You were still in disbelief.

“Yeah, I’m kinda late but I want to see you before you leave,” Yoongi whispered. “Take care of yourself while being there, okay? Do well with your job. Call me when you get there.”

That’s when you cried. Two weeks ago, you and Yoongi have been fighting since he cannot let you go there. But you explained your reasons and goals. Back then, Yoongi just agreed with a nod, not saying much and already admitting your win. Now, Yoongi is here, cheering you for your plans. You two hugged as tight as you can before leaning your foreheads together.

“I love you so much. Thank you so much, Yoongi.” You sobbed.

“I love you too,”

For the last time, both of you shared a short but sweet kiss. You smiled as you let go. The flight attendant smiled at you after handing you your identification card. You knew she already has seen a hundred of this same scene you and Yoongi made. You looked at Yoongi for the last time and you wave him a hand while showing you his gummy smile. It made you smile more, knowing that he supports you and you will be calling him once you landed in Canada.

The loud ringing of your phone woke you up. You shuffled on your bed, looking for that noisy device. Your face scrunched. It took you two more minutes to finally find it under some pillows. It was only 6:30 AM, you can't think of someone who will call you this early. But, your eyes immediately lit up as you read who was calling you early in the morning.

“Good morning!” You are already in good vibes as you greeted the caller.

“Good morning, love. Did I call you too early?” His voice is still raspy, indicating that maybe he just woke up too.

“No, it’s fine. I did not hear my alarm clock minutes ago.” You answered, now sitting on your bed.

“Nice! Let’s go to work together, okay? I’ll pick you up later. Let’s buy breakfast on the way.”

“Okay, okay. Love you.”

After the call ended, you immediately went straight to your bathroom. This is how your day began. It has been four years since you had your job as a column writer and you no longer work in Canada. Three years ago, you were offered to work in the magazine’s main office in New York City. And of course, you said yes. It was the total dream that came true for you. You haven’t visited Seoul ever since you left. You were busy and after things changed in between those years, you never had plans of coming back again. You and your best friend, Naeun, never lost in touch anyways. You two always talk through video calls with her little girl, Jina.

‘Will be there in five minutes.’

You read your boyfriend’s text just after you just blow dry your hair. Your makeup was already done and you started fixing your hair for a simple side braid. Minutes later, you were already leaving your apartment in your office clothes and classic black heels. Your eyes were quick to spot the familiar black car in front of your apartment building. One of its windows rolled down, revealing your boyfriend.

“Let’s go?”

You smiled before opening the door to the passenger seat. As soon as you got in, you gave him a quick kiss on his lips.

“So, where do you want to have breakfast?” He asked as he drove.

You went silent and started thinking, “Maybe we should drive-thru into that coffeehouse.”

“You said that you don’t drink coffee.”

“I don’t. But, I heard that they sell great pastries too, Tae.” You responded.

Taehyung did not say anything and turned the wheel to the coffeehouse. He was the one who ordered after you told him what you want. You almost squealed because of excitement when you smelled the delicious smell of freshly baked muffins that you got.

“Thank you, love.” You placed a kiss on his cheek before giving a bite of the chocolate chip muffin. “So good.”

Taehyung could not help but giggle at how cute you look. Tiny crumbs of the bread were left on the side of your lips.

“Hey, be careful about eating. You might re-do your make up after that."

"Then, I will re-do it later. It's just so good."

You grinned once again, not aware that there is some evidence of chocolate on your front teeth. Your boyfriend just laughed and continued driving. Not long after, you two arrived in your office building. You work in the same magazine. Taehyung’s job is a creative director, suited for his artistic mind.

“Was the chocolate gone? How do I look?” You asked him after cleaning yourself up.

“Lovely.” He smiled.

You rolled your eyes, “Yeah, I remembered that I should not have asked you.”

“What? Why?”

“You will always say I look great even though I look shitty.”

You heard him chuckle, “You do look great anytime, love!”

The two of you strolled side by side inside your building. You met your other co-workers in the elevator. When the door opened to the fifteenth floor, the whole place is still quiet and empty. Each of you went to your own cubicle and desks. Since you have been working in this magazine for three years now, your working place was already personalized by you. Many neon-colored sticky notes were placed on the wall. A picture frame sat beside your computer desktop, showing an image of you and Taehyung.

After fixing your things, you began working on your last document. The topic that was given to you was quite hard for you though you experienced a few parts of it. You tried researching and interviewing other people about it, hoping that you will be able to make something from it. But, you found it hard. So, you just type whatever in your head. You thought of asking Claire, your editor in chief, to change your topic. But, on the other side, you also thought that maybe it can help you to explore more. You tried processing every information you got and type it all away. You got busy that you did not notice a phone notification from a particular person.

"Hey, Y/N."

You looked up from your computer screen. It was Jane, your co-worker, and friend.

"Me and Henry’s eating out for lunch. Do you and Taehyung want to join?” She invited you.

"Hmm? What time is it already?" You asked since you never really bothered watching your time while working.

"It's almost one in the afternoon."

“Oh, okay. I’ll join it.”

You stood up from your chair and secured your document to your computer. You picked up your phone and wallet from your bag.

“But, I will still ask Tae if he is joining.” You added.

Taehyung is in his shared office with the magazine’s design team. Since they have a glass wall, you already spotted your boyfriend all alone focused on his desktop. It looks like his other colleague already left for lunch. You knocked three times on the glass, making him look up to you. You mouthed ‘let’s have lunch’. Taehyung was quick to get your sentence and left his work.

“You seem so focused there, love.” You told him as you and Taehyung stay behind your two friends.

"Yeah, the team decided a new theme for this month's issue. I had to change many things with my latest work."

Taehyung kept on talking while you thought of checking your phone. And there, you finally noticed the message you received a couple of hours ago. It was from Naeun, asking you to give her a call in your free time. You and Naeun never lost communication in between those years and it’s not new that she messaged you like this. This time, you feel like Naeun has something to tell you. But after checking the time there in Seoul, you thought that maybe you should call her later.

Henry and Jane lead you to the newly opened restaurant, not too far in your building. You only ordered a chicken salad and tomato soup. While eating, they started talking about what they are currently working on. The four of you shared ideas and opinions to help one another until they asked you about yours.

“My topic is extremely hard for me right now.” You told them.

“Oh, that’s new. You always do good research with your subjects.” Henry responded.

“That’s right. Why? What is it all about?” Taehyung also asked.

You did not hesitate to answer since you expected that maybe they can share their own experiences too. But what Jane had told you took you back for a bit.

“Hey, I think that’s easy. I’m sure you got through a break up before. Hmm? You will get some pointers from that.”

It’s true that you already got through a breakup before. But, you are sure that you will not get anything from it. Your article topic was completely missing with the first and only break up you have encountered. The old memories from the past crashed inside your head again. Your heart began beating like crazy again as you

“Love?”

Suddenly, Taehyung held your unconsciously balled fist. You were clutching it too tight that your knuckles turned white. A hint of worry was found in his expression.

“Are you okay?”

You sighed before nodding slowly. Taehyung played with your fingers by pinching each one of it softly, a thing he always does to calm you down when stuff like this happens. The lunch did not take any longer. You and your friends went back to your jobs.

“Are you okay now?” Taehyung asked as you sat back to your swivel chair.

"Yeah, I'm sorry about that." You said sincerely.

You felt sorry that he still has to deal with you having an issue from your past. But Taehyung held your hand again and left a kiss on your forehead.

"You don't have to be sorry. I will always understand."

The day went on. You ended up writing nothing since you cannot focus. You tried anything to type something. Your article was left just like what it was before you had your lunch break. It felt like your head is going to burst while forcing it to focus on your article.

The whole ride back home with Taehyung was silent, only the radio produces a noise. You chose to stay in Taehyung's place for dinner. He said he will order some fast food meals. As soon as you got home and get changed with your boyfriend's clothes, Taehyung called for a food delivery while you contact Naeun. Maybe it will help you to think less.

"Finally! I thought you did not read my message." Naeun said on the other line.

"Well, sorry. I thought that maybe I should call you after you wake up there. Remember? Time difference?" You scoffed.

"Oh, okay. Sorry. Anyways, Y/N, can I ask you a favor?"

You can imagine Naeun acting cute with her puppy eyes just for her tone.

"Sure, just don't make it something illegal or what." you joked, making you both giggle.

"Can you please, please, pretty please come here in Seoul? Maybe just a visit?"

"What?" you almost whispered.

You did not expect that even though you know you should have. It was the first time Naeun begged you like this after you left and you understood her. It's been years.

"Come on, Y/N. Everyone here misses you! Especially the gang. Jina, Me, Seokjin, Namjoon, and... Yoongi." She was obviously unsure of the last one since the tone of her voice changed.

"Yeah?"

That was the only thing you can say. There is a part of you who wants to say yes because of course, you miss them too. But there is also the other half of you who is extremely anxious and just wants to decline Naeun's request. You are afraid to see Yoongi again after four years. And you hate how crumbled your mind is.

You heard Naeun let out a big air from the other line, "Listen, if this is about Yoongi, I swear. It's been years! I'm sure he will be happier to see you again than act something bad because you guys broke up. I'm sure that everything will be cool."

"Are you sure?" You were biting the insides of your cheeks. Still, you're glad that she's aware of you and Yoongi.

"Of course! We just want to see you again! You can bring your boyfriend if you want."

As if he heard it, Taehyung sat beside you on the couch. He is playing something on his phone. You looked at him as you talked again.

"Yeah?" You were still unsure. "I-I will think about it or check my schedule or something."

"Okay, Y/N. We just really miss having you here. Love you. Miss you so much!"

"Miss you too."

That's when you ended the call. Taehyung stopped with his game when you noticed you were done already with the call. He can see how troubled you are.

"Naeun and my friends want me to visit them there." You opened up.

"Oh, that's great. Right?" He smiled but you frowned even more.

"Yup, but I'm having thoughts again." You fiddle on the hem of his big shirt you're wearing.

"Well, do you want to talk about it?" Taehyung's voice was gentle.

You looked at him, thinking if he will be comfortable with this conversation you two are having.

"Are you sure?" you asked him and he smiles once again. "I mean, I know I should not be anxious about this. Especially now that I have you and we are together. But, my ex is there and I don't know what can happen."

Taehyung engulfed you with a warm hug. You rested your head on his chest while he repeatedly slides his hand with your hair.

"I know that you feel kind of awkward for telling me these kinds of stuff about your ex but remember that I am your best friend too. I am willing to hear anything and everything from you. I am happy that you are opening up to me like this and I think it would be a great idea to go visit them again."

"Really?" You asked, still snuggled under his neck.

"Yes. It was your home and they are your friends. I am sure you miss them so much too."

You removed yourself from and looked at him.

"And what about Yoongi? Are you okay with him? I mean, we are in one circle of friends. Will it be fine for you?"

Taehyung cupped both of your cheeks, "Love, I trust you. I understand that you two have been together for almost a decade but I trust you. I know that you will never do such a thing. Right?"

You can see how Taehyung is sincere with everything he said. He gave you a peck on your lips and hugged you again.

"Anyways, think about it. If you're uncomfortable with going back there. Then, it's fine. They will understand."

You hugged him back. The amount of comfort Taehyung gave you for today was amazing. Even though every trouble you had today was connected to your past.

Yoongi.

He is now a part of your past, right?

You thought. Reflecting on what Taehyung said. Maybe visiting your old place will be a great idea. Maybe it will result in something wonderful despite the past.

Maybe.

"Three weeks leave?"

Your editor in chief, Claire, looked up from you after reading your letter. You felt a little nervous though Claire was never strict. But, it was your first time requesting leave and you thought that maybe the days you requested were too long.

"Uhm, yes. But, I will still write and pass my articles and research through e-mail. I am just staying back home for weeks." You explained.

"Okay, I see." Claire nodded, looking back to your letter. "I think this was the first time you ask for a leave. Please, correct me if I'm wrong."

"Oh, yes. This is the first time."

"Okay. You can take your leave. Just send your works through e-mail and we'll be fine." She smiles friendly. "When will you be taking your leave?"

"Three days from now."

Three days later, you are now standing in the line for boarding with your luggage. You took a cab going to the airport. Taehyung cannot come with you since he still has to go to work but he lets you wear a hoodie of his to make you feel he is 'with you'. That's what he said. He asked you to update him with your departure and arrival. Even now, before you leave, you sent him a picture of you pouting. It willl be a fourteen-hour flight and you cannot text him between those hours.

Now, you sat on your seat inside the plane. There's an extremely tiny voice inside your body that says, "No, don't go back there. Past is past." But there was also the larger one who blocks it with "Go, Y/N. It's time to face the past again."

Your head was a little less messy than last week. And you hope that staying in Seoul for three weeks will only bring good memories. You hope that you'll finally find an answer to the article topic you still writing on.

🍒 taglist 🍒 < @ladykadyrova @scalubera @biaswreckeedbybts @scentedsope @whocaresarchives @craftymoonchaos > <and if you anted to be added for next chapter's taglist, leave a reply 🦋>

author’s note │i hope you enjoyed the first chapter of once again! this one may be full of taehyung and y/n moments but next following chapters will include more yoongi and their gang. let me know your thoughts!!

masterlist

#bts au #bts angst #bts smut #bts fluff #bts imagine #yoongi angst #yoongi smut #yoongi fluff #min yoongi #once again #httpknjoon #bts x reader #bts

173 notes · View notes

star-spangledstud · 3 years

Text

MIND GAMES - THREE

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: The team goes on a mission. You meet someone who might expose you.

Warnings: angst, mentions of violence

Note: Wanna be tagged in future chapters? Shoot me a message :) Sorry for being MIA for so long. I’ve been sad. Blegh.

SERIES MASTERLIST.

PREVIOUS CHAPTER.

Over the few days that follow, you become increasingly paranoid. It’s your own fault, because you shouldn’t have lied to the people that have welcomed you into their homes with open arms, but lying is a survival skill that you were taught many years ago, and old habits die hard. You become shadowy, avoid team members in the hallways and common areas of the penthouse floor you all share, and stay in your room as much as possible without alarming anyone. Of course Natasha knows something is up, but Steve doesn’t, and he waves off her concern as you simply ‘needing more time to adjust, Nat’. You watch their body language during breakfast – one of two meals a day you simply cannot get out of without causing anyone’s alarm bells to start ringing – and engage in light conversation wherever possible to keep them out of your hair.

Guilt gnaws at your insides when you find yourself wandering the deserted wrap-around balcony at nearly 3 a.m., brain searching for a clue to any bad things that might happen. If any one of them figures out you’re ex-hydra you’re done for, that much you know, but the man with golden hair and twinkling azure eyes might just be your ticket to safety.

The thought alone sickens you, because you vowed never to mess with someone’s feelings to get what you need ever again. It’s a twisted thought, but the vines of its root wrap themselves around the stem of your brain nonetheless.

A month after first moving in, you’ve already figured out their routines. Steve’s the early riser of the bunch, getting up every morning at 6:30 a..m. sharp to go on a run around the city. On rare occasions, he manages to convince Sam to come along with him, but more often than not, he remains in his bed until at least 10 o’clock, when Steve’s already come back to shower and get dressed for the day. Tony and Bruce are in the lab 24/7, both of them constantly bickering about artificial intelligence and microbiology among other matters you can’t even begin to understand. As a result, you don’t see them around too often, a notion you don’t particularly mind. Clint left to be with his family two weeks ago and hasn’t been back since, and Natasha leaves all the time, sometimes for days at a time. You don’t dare to ask anyone where she goes when she disappears, but nobody seems surprised to find her seat at the dining table empty again.

It’s a gloomy day when you wake up to find the entire place void of all life. Not even Steve, who’s adamant about his morning coffee, is there to grace you with his presence when you walk into the kitchen that Saturday morning. The counter is clean, no empty coffee cups, half-eaten bowls of oatmeal or bread crumbs to indicate anyone’s eaten yet, and all of the chairs are still perfectly lined against the table.

Your pulse involuntarily quickens to an uncomfortable pace, and you bite the inside of your cheek until the metallic taste of blood is heavy on your tongue. With quick steps, you walk towards the common room, footsteps loud in your ears when you consider where they might be. As expected, there’s nobody there. The TV is switched off, there are no dents in the heavy fabric of the couch from where Steve usually sits, and again, no empty cups or bowls can be found on the coffee table. You have the jitters when you finally get to the library, which is again void of all life.

Black socks covered in small holes squeak across the wooden floors when you walk around the room. It’s not surprising to see the library vacant. You’re sure Avengers have more pressing matters to tend to than reading books on any given day, but it was your last hope nonetheless. With your head tilted to the side, you focus on scanning the titles that line the walls. You follow every shelf in the room until your eye finally catches something. You take the book with a sigh, flip through its tattered pages, and wonder for a moment which one of the Avengers has read the crap out of Pride and Prejudice. Definitely not Sam, judging by his internal monologue. That guy doesn’t appear to have an ounce of romanticism inside him.

“They’re out,” a gentle voice suddenly says behind you, “Steve didn’t want to wake you up this morning to tell you.”

You slap your hand over your heart in surprise, and inhale sharply, “Jesus Christ, doc. You scared the hell out of me.”

Bruce throws his hands up in the air and shrugs his shoulders, “Sorry, it’s just me.”

“Are they on a mission?” you ask, feeling your heart jump in your chest like a skippy ball.

“Yeah, they should be back in a few days. Are you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

You swallow thickly, noticing all of a sudden how your mouth is dry like sandpaper, “you just spooked me, that’s all. What kind of mission is it?”

“Intel gathering, in an out. That’s why I didn’t come. They only bring me when they need the green guy,” he says.

“Oh yeah,” you reply slowly, “how’s he holding up?”

“Asleep,” Bruce smiles, then clears his throat, “for now, anyway. Would you like to get some breakfast?”

You follow Bruce through the rain, which started to gust from the grey sky just as you were getting dressed. You’d rather have said no, but you knew you couldn’t; it wouldn’t be polite to decline his offer. Besides, he’s oblivious, and for whatever reason, he trusts you. When he bites into his chocolate croissant, you know why – Steve’s let you in. This notion once more confirms the thoughts that have been occupying your mind for the last week; Steve is your one-way ticket to inclusivity.

You shudder at the thought and fake a smile before taking a large sip of coffee. The cafe is small, mostly empty, and your seat by the window gives you a perfect view of pedestrians struggling in the howling, icy wind. One year ago, you could never have imagined yourself sitting in a café with a cup of coffee clutched between your fingers, chatting with someone who you could potentially call a friend. The idea alone of being able to enjoy a warm mug filled with freshly brewed coffee would’ve sounded preposterous to you.

There was no warmth with HYDRA. Only cold.

It takes the team three days to return from their mission. Three long days, during which you spend most of your time with Bruce in his lab, perched on a desk-chair with a book in your hands while he works on – actually, you have no idea what he’s working on. You quickly grow to become fond of him, because he doesn’t feel the need to constantly fill the silence between you with empty words. His thoughts are coherent, focused on his project, and the lingo is too advanced for you to understand, which makes it easy to drown out. His inner monologue is quiet, except for a few angry words from the Hulk when Bruce becomes frustrated with his work, but that only happened on day two, and only for ten minutes.

Steve smells like gun powder and sweat when he hugs you softly against his chest after exiting the Quinjet. Natasha waves at you, and the smile that dons her dirt-caked face surprises you, but you return it nonetheless. Sam even ruffles your hair, causes a sound to escape your throat that you haven’t heard yourself make in over a decade; a strange combination of a snort and a chuckle that sounds like music to your own ears. Your heart pounds again, but in a good way this time, because for a small moment in time, you’ve managed to put the guilt on the back-burner. The roaring engine behind you falls silent at last, and nobody else visibly exits the plane before you make it inside.

“You held up okay?” Steve asks as he follows you back inside the building.

You nod in response and shove your hands deep inside the pockets of your hoodie, “I’ve been helping Bruce with his research.”

“Oh, did you? How’s it coming?” he asks.

His eyes sparkle like two tiny stars even through the exhaustion that nearly forces them shut every time he blinks. He’s exhausted, you can tell, and you have to bite your tongue before you make a comment about the state he’s in.

“I mostly sat there while he did all the thinking. Turns out computer science isn’t really my thing after all.”

Steve fights a yawn that threatens to overcome him, and nods, “yeah, I feel you. I can barely get the damn things to start. I’ve given up on technology.”

He turns back to face you when he’s come to a halt in front of his room.

“Sorry I didn’t tell you where I went,” he tells you, meaning it as he says it, “we kinda left in a hurry, and you were still sleeping.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you reply, “I understand.”

He quickly retreats after that, leaving you once again with nothing to do. You go back to your room to grab the worn copy of Pride and Prejudice from your nightstand and, after plopping down on your bed, flip to the page where you last left off. You read for a while, before the idea to make some tea with warm milk and honey pops into your head, and you skip along the hallway to the kitchen with the book securely wrapped in your arms.

You’re surprised to hear Steve’s voice when you enter the common area, and a smile appears on his face the second his eyes fall on you. You raise one arm to wave at him, but a loud gasp and a large thud followed by the sound of breaking glass have you freezing on the spot before you can open your mouth to greet him at all.

Your head snaps towards the source of the sound, causing your neck to twist and crack painfully. Red, glowing eyes meet your large ones when you dare to look up at whoever made the noise, and the book in your hands falls to the ground with a loud bang that startles everyone in the room. You stumble backwards when you can feel the woman standing before you deep inside of your head, and you nearly trip over the rug when you instinctly try to get away from her. Frantically, you scramble to stop her from seeing more than she’s already seen. Still, by the time you manage to build up a mental barrier to keep her out of your head, it’s already too late.

You haven’t seen her before, and you can’t remember for the life of you if the image of her has popped up in any of the Avengers’ heads. Your brain is mushy, images hazy as you try to focus on keeping the woman from digging around deeper. You can see distant memories of your time with HYDRA flash before her eyes, and the images blur with the present in a spasm that makes your eyes water.

Wanda Maximoff lets out a shrill, piercing shriek, one that chills everyone to the bone. Thor, who you didn’t even know was there, is by her side before she can collapse onto the cold, hard floor, and Steve jumps up from his chair before you have time to register his movements. He grabs your arm and drags you out of the kitchen, fingers digging painfully in your tender flesh when he pulls you away from the scene. Sympathy fills Sam’s dark brown eyes when you turn back around to look at him, and guilt roils in your stomach when the redhead sinks to her knees with tears streaming down her face.

Your arms hang limply to your side when you watch Steve pace back and forth around his room. You’re waiting for him to yell at you, to tell you to get the fuck out of the compound and never return, but he remains awfully quiet. His silence confuses and unnerves you simultaneously.

His eyes, swimming with unimaginable depth, find your face while the scent of his cologne and pure testosterone invades your nostrils. Pressure clamps down on your chest, and the intensity of his gaze causes you to shiver. Never in your entire life have you wanted to read someone’s mind more.

“Are you alright?” your head cocks to the side, mouth twitching while you try to find words.

You nearly gave that woman an aneurysm, and he’s asking you if you’re okay?

“Yes,” you stammer, “I’m so sorry.”

“Wanda is telepathic,” Steve says, “she has trouble controlling what she sees sometimes.”

“Like I said, I’m so so-”

A soft exhale leaves your lips when Steve’s hands find their way to your shoulders, and your voice dies down in your throat when he bends down slightly to meet your eyes. Calloused fingertips penetrate the thin material of your t-shirt, and the warmth of his hands creates a buzzing sensation just beneath your skin.

“She was in Europe, scouting the location of the mission with Rhodey. She’s been in Eastern Europe for a while, that’s why you haven’t seen her. I should’ve told you about her.”

“Will she be okay?” you ask. You hardly recognize your own voice.

“Sam’s got her. She’s stronger than she looks. Are you sure you’re okay? You don’t look so good.”

You don’t know how to respond. You crave a cigarette all of a sudden, even though you don’t smoke. Alcohol then, maybe, to numb down the prickling sensation of firing synapses and goosebumps that line your bare arms. Yeah, a good couple of shots of whiskey will do the trick. Not vodka though, you hate that stuff.

You bite your bow-shaped lips and inhale deeply. Steve is so close that you can feel his breath fanning across your face. It’s wrong, being so near him after what just happened. You’re on thin ice. It won’t be long before the entire team, undoubtedly informed by what Wanda just saw, comes barging into Steve’s room, ready to drag you away to prison or worse, put a bullet through your skull. You deserve it, you think, for what you used to do. For who you used to be. You almost want somebody to call you out on your shit, because then at least you wouldn’t have to hide it anymore.

But seconds turn into minutes, and nobody comes. It’s quiet, except for the sound of Steve’s breathing and the steady beating of his heart, and you realize when he looks at you with sympathy and sincerity that you hate yourself for lying. It’s an ironic realization, because lying is like second nature to you. HYDRA spent so much time ingraining it into your brain that it’s become almost like a second language, a means of communication that flows so naturally that you don’t even have an accent anymore. It’s brought you many things, and ruined even more people.

Your hands are going numb from how hard you’re clenching them into fists. Steve’s thumbs are rubbing small circles on your shoulders, and it takes all of your effort not to shake them off. You’re disgusted with yourself, bile threatening to rise to the back of your throat while the sensation of his warm fingers on you is the only thing left for you to feel. The world is dark and cold, but the heat radiating from Steve’s hands is just enough to stop you from getting frostbite. The concern is evident on his face, from the deep crease between his brows to the thin line of his lips; he’s worried about you, someone he doesn’t even know. Someone he would kill if he’d met you under any other circumstances.

You want to go home, you think to yourself, but as soon as the thought appears do you smack it down with your fist. You don’t have a home, you scold yourself, just like the doctors would tell you when you cried and screamed on the dingey operating table in the early days, when they didn’t control you yet. When they still wore their special masks to stop you from controlling their minds so they could freely fuck with yours.

It’s an icy reality, one that rattles you to your core every time it makes an appearance. Steve’s eyes are still scanning your face, which is twisted and contorted into a painful scowl before you even realize what’s happening.

An inexplicable panic washes over you, heart jackhammering in your chest while your cheeks turn a sickly shade of pink. A bead of sweat rolls down your back, followed by cold shivers that envelop your skin in ice. The scent of laundry detergent and cologne hits you like a truck, and you have to bite your tongue to stop yourself from gagging.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, his voice melting and morphing into the sound of rain slamming against the window like gunfire.

“My head,” you cry out in a desperate whimper, “it hurts.”

Steve forces your body down onto his bed, and while you begin to writhe in pain that causes white spots to dance in front of your eyes, he closes the curtains to keep the light from coming in. His mother had head aches all the time, and she’d be in bed for days on end if they got bad enough. He remembers her clear as day, lying in bed with an empty bucket next to her on the floor in the dark, because the light hurt so bad it would make her vomit sometimes. He’d tiptoe around the house because the sound of his feet creaking across the floorboards would pain her. He recognizes her in you, lying on his bed with your hands clutching the sides of your head.

“I’ll get you some aspirin,” he says, quieting his voice, the incident with Wanda long forgotten as instinct takes over.

Tears blur your vision at this point, and it takes every ounce of focus that you have left to keep yourself from screaming out in pain. Aspirin won’t help, but you don’t possess the capability to tell him not to bother. You’ve experienced this type of pain before, and have endured it without medicine each time. Many times actually; while you were forced to extract information from the people taken and captured by HYDRA with whatever means necessary. This time however, it’s come as a surprise and it’s caught you completely off-guard, although you suspect Wanda’s poking and prodding has something to do with it.

With all the strength you have left, you manage to pull the covers over your head, engulfing yourself in darkness and warmth to drown out your senses. The sudden darkness is disorienting, but you welcome it with open arms. Steve opens his mouth, but shuts it, and heads for the door without uttering another word.

All you hear when Steve exits the room is the sound of your former victims crying out in despair.

NEXT CHAPTER.

TAGLIST:

@foxyjwls007 @littlegasps @hurricane-abigail @idk123906 @ bubblicious-trashcan @wooya1224

50 notes · View notes

blueberrypossum · 3 years

Text

Another Night hidden within the Stars

(GN)yokai cop x Dastardly Danny

Hey yall! I've had the wonderful opportunity to collab with @greaser-wolf and man has it been a wonderful experience! You are truly a lovely person and thank you again for the drawing!! This was super fun to write, with Danny and how he talks he's a challenge that I loved taking on. Hope you all enjoy!!

This story is gender neutral, but with it being fancy I will be putting tux/dress so then you, the reader, can wear whatever you want on your date with Danny ( also suspenders will be in the tux category and dress suits will still be in dress, hopefully that is okay with everyone because I do want to put detail into your outfit).

⚠️WARNING⚠️: There are cuss words and also mention of sexual content along with yearning and making out!!!

Word Vocabulary:

FC- favorite color

Take a powder- Get lost or lay off

Crumb-A jerk, no fun

Eager Beaver- Someone who excited about something

Cut a rug- Dance with me

Dead Hopper- A bad dancer

Jive dancer- A talented dancer

You could feel yourself slowly growing impatient as you waited outside of the restaurant, your foot tapping against the concrete with a jittery rhythm. Dastardly Danny was never the late type, he would make the joke of being fashionably late whenever he and the rest of his crew had a runin with trouble, but you knew by now that he would make sure his schedule was clear the days you would meet up. Especially after the time he and his friends literally rode to the place you were meeting up in a snail cop car, a sheepish smile curling against his mouth.

You remember the awful paperwork for that one.

The night of the Hidden City glistened around you as you leaned against the building, your hands rubbing up against your arms to create some friction of warmth. Even with the outfit you had on, the nights were slowly getting chilly due to the change of seasons above.

The bag you held against your side started to vibrate and for a second you thought it was going to be that purple wearing rat, telling you that something had happened or that he was going to be fashionably late, but it was actually your boss from the police station. You cleared your throat before you clicked on the answer button.

“Yes, chief?”

“Hello Y/N, I was seeing if you would be free tonight to work an extra shift?”

You balled your empty hand into a fist as you jumped from your spot against the building, your eyes glaring to the side as if you could see your boss there, looming over you with a smile that practically said: “ If you don’t say yes to this then I will give you paperwork that is stacked so high that the humans above can see it.”

You let out a breathy sigh as you explained, “I’m sorry, chief, but I have plans tonight and I really cannot cancel them.” You turned on your heel so that your shoulder was leaning against the wall instead of your back.

You could hear the anger and frustration behind his voice, “Are you sure that whatever is so important cannot be rescheduled?”

“No, it cannot.”

You almost jumped right out of your body as a voice behind you answered for you. Your face started to blush against the amber lights of the restaurant as Danny was now leaning his head against your shoulder, a wicked grin on his face as he continued to talk.

“Sorry there, chief, but being a cop can be a real pain in the neck, so take a powder and let me and the dame have our night, alright?”

You opened your mouth to apologize to your boss, to say that your boyfriend had just had a little too much to drink and was now saying whatever came to mind, but the tall rat’s hot breath against your neck made you stiff as a board. You swallowed and suddenly you felt parched as Danny took the phone from your hand and hung up on the chief of police and placed the phone back into your bag.

“Ya know you can get lockjaw if ya keep that mouth open for too long,” he chirped as he took your hand into his.

“You’re….You’re late,” you stammered out, your mind foggy with the possible fear of losing your job and also how Danny’s suit was cleaner and seemed to cling to his body tighter than before.

He bent himself over and kissed your hand as he looked up at you with hooded eyes.

“Actually, love, I still have about two minutes. Would ya like me to walk away and come back and get ya flustered all over again?”

“Oh hush up, you could’ve gotten me fired and he could've figured out your voice,” you commented, your heart almost futtering out of your chest as his lips met your hand. Always so formal, strange how a gentleman could also be a thief.

Danny rolled his eyes and let out a ‘tch’ sound as he took in the sight of you. Your outfit was glistening against the fallen lights of the town, the color bringing out the color in your eyes. Danny was surprised that he still had his balance as he took a step back. No matter how many times he lays his eyes on you, you can always somehow leave him breathless.

He intertwined his arm with yours as he chuckled out, “Yer boss is a bloody crumb, darling, and if he could recognize my’ voice, toots, then there would be more criminals in yer holding cells.”

“You know I can just turn you three in and get that raise, right?”

“Ah but you would never do that to us, especially me, sweetheart,” he purred as took your chin gently into his hand and kissed you. All the stress that had built up within your body for the past few days melted away as he pulled you in closer to the kiss, your knees almost going weak as you felt him smile against your lips. His hand was careful against your cheek, as if his destructive and dangerous life would break you, even with you being a cop. His whiskers tickled your face and you couldn’t help but giggle into the kiss, causing Danny to bring you closer to him at the sound of your happiness.

After the kiss, he planted one against your cheek and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

“You look ravishing tonight, ” He purred as he led you over to the door, his arm already extending it to open it for you.

You let out a sigh as you pushed the fabric you were wearing down to wash out the wrinkles.

“You don’t think it’s too much?” You asked as Danny told the hostess the fake name he placed for the dinner reservation. As the hostess turned around to grab a few menus, Danny let go of your arm and ever so slowly danced his hand from the nap of your neck, down your spine until it planted itself onto your tailbone as he whispered into your ear, “Oh sweetheart, if we weren’t in this restaurant, I know exactly what I would be having for dinner instead.”

He smirked as a pretty shade of red crossed your face and even tinted the edge of your ears as the hostess turned back around and told you both to follow her. Danny had to practically drag you since your mind was nothing but a haze of embarrassment and desire.

The tall rat yokai pulled your chair for you and you thanked him as he pushed you closer to the table and took a seat himself.

You took in the sight of the restaurant with a look of awe. The eating house was colored with wine and gold and the building was buzzing with life of friends and family and lovers just like you and him. You both had made sure, with the help of a worker there, that no cop or detective had placed a reservation at the restaurant, so no more looking over your shoulder or horror stabbing you in the gut when you watched yokais whisper and look over at you.

Danny watched as you took it all in, an almost lovesick expression crossing his face. Everytime you both went out he would remember the first time you both met, with your pistol shoved into his face. Dating a cop was something that never crossed his mind, he always thought he would date a thief such as himself or maybe a regular citizen of the Hidden City. But, when you first chased him, screaming his name at the top of lungs, he knew it was love at first sight.

He did hate the secrecy though, even with the thrill of getting caught was something he got high off of, he did want to show you off to the world, he wanted to take you out everywhere without any of your coworkers finding you. At least you both got to do this, and he knew how to mark you as his.

The option of you quitting your job raged inside his head, the sheer thought of it made him mad. He would never let you give up your passion, how hard you’ve worked for your position at work, even though you said you would be fine with it, he wouldn’t be, and knew that you secretly wouldn’t be either.

“So, I heard about that heist you did a few days ago, how did it go?” You questioned as you laid your head in your hands, your elbows supporting your weight. Danny let out a gust of air as he also leaned in, taking in the breathtaking sight that was you.

“Don’t even get me started, sweetheart. Leonard is doing the chores for the rest of da month for the stunt he pulled during it,” the rat groaned and soon a waitress came up and Danny ordered one of their expensive wines, once she walked away, you raised an eyebrow at him.

“Wine, huh? That heist money really working itself off, isn’t it?” You played at him and he let out a low gruff as he smirked at you.

“Only using the money for good, right?”

“Oh and I’m considered good?”

Danny gave you a hungry look and for a moment you thought he was going to get out of the chair and eat you up in one bite, but all he did was bring his hands together on the table as he leisurely spoke.

“Of course.”

Oh titans above how was I so lucky to land him.

You both ordered your meals and continued to have small talk. One thing you both decided to agree on was that Danny would talk about opposing gangs that were doing heists and robberies and then would tell you about them the next stop they were going to, with this you were given praise and extra cash at work and giving The Mud Dogs less competition in the playing field. It made Danny warm inside to see you have an interest in his job and it made you bashful when he would compliment you on your job.

In the background of your conversation was the beauty of musicians playing their hearts out for those who were out on the dancefloor, the restaurant was flooded with intoxicated laughter and the tapping of shoes against the wooden floor. The wine was slowly getting to you after the third glass and you couldn’t help but to start giggling after every word you said.

After the waitress took your plates and left the check, you and Danny had to fight over who would pay.

“You paid last time, I'll pay it,” you ordered as your fingers tried to swipe it from his hands, but he was a lot quicker than you and he let the bill twirl in between his fingers as he stared at you.

“Not a chance, eager beaver, the deal is that you bring your decked out self and I get to gawk at ya until I need to pay the bill,” he insisted and was about to pull out his credit card before he felt your fingers touch his and soon the bill was gone from his hands and all he could do was glare lovingly at you as you giggled in your seat, the piece of paper shoved under your hands.

“Yer not gonna give up, are ya?”

“Isn’t that what you like about me?”

His eyes traveled over your body slowly, hardly an ounce of urgency in them as he took in every inch of you. The curve of your waist, the way your outfit was flushed against your body like water to paper, how there were still love marks on your chest and barely above your neck from your last visit with each other. Desire was blazing through his eyes as they finally met yours.

“Oh sugar pop, there is a whole list of things I like about you,” he growled and he took pride in the way you squirmed in your seat.

He eyed the dancefloor and then back at you and gradually got himself out of his chair until he was next to you, his hand extended out.

“How about this: You cut a rug with me and you get to pay, deal?” He asked. You looked down at his extended hand and then back at his smug look, wondering if the wine had somehow gotten more to him then you.

“Oh please, you know I have two left feet. If we danced your feet would be sore for weeks from me stepping on them,” you joked out, but he didn't move.

“If ya were a dead hopper, I wouldn’t be askin. That or else I get to pay the bill,” he challenged. You didn’t know if it was the pride you held or from the extra glass of wine you swigged down, but you took his hand and let him lead you to the dancefloor.

The music buzzed through your ears as you held tighter to his hand. You had fought bad guys, you had been in blazing shootouts, you’ve seen life be taken away right in front of your eyes. But dancing seemed to be the hardest challenge to muster up courage to master. Danny gave your hand a reassuring squeeze as he took you both to the middle of the dancefloor.

He took the hand he was holding and extended your arm with his, while his other arm went around your waist, bringing you almost dangerously close. You could smell the alcohol on his breath and his cologne drained through your nose.

“Danny, what if we get caught? Everyone can see us,” you whispered. Many eyes were peering at you two, some just being distracted by the new movement you both caused and others eyeing the rat as if they recognized him. Fear started to snake itself around your body, almost trapping you once again in that constant fear of being discovered.

But, the love of your life gently tapped his nose against yours as he shushed you so quietly that you could barely hear it. His calming scent and even breaths washed over you and you felt yourself relax. No one has ever made you feel like this, no past lover, no family or friend, Danny wasn’t just a breath of fresh air to you, he was a whole new world to you.

“Hey, just let me show you off for just a few minutes, just this once, doll. Then we can go back to being Romeo and Juilet, I promise,” he purred and you silently nodded as he swept you off your feet. It almost seemed that the musicians took notice in the new lovebirds and the music picked up to match the tense and eager atmosphere, even the yokais around you took hints and their own moves started to change.

Both of your dance moves were slow at first, the rat yokai letting you get used to him taking the lead, with his quick feet and swirls and twirls, you were a little shocked at how well he was. He held onto you though, taking in your cautious swings and how your eyes were on your feet instead of up. Danny knew he was selfish for asking this out of you, he knew that you didn’t want to embarrass yourself in front of him. But the way you looked on the dancefloor was almost bewitching. Your tux/dress flew silently around you, the tone of your (FC) shined against the spotlight that twirled overhead, and your eyes almost seemed to glow in the scarlet and golden room, outshining and blinding anyone else around him.

He knew then he was deeply and terribly in love with you.

“My eyes are up here, toots.”

“So is that sarcastic mouth of yours.”

“You really do crack me up, dollface.”

He then let go of your waist and swept you away from him, the only thing connecting you two was the interlocking of your hands. Starlight seemed to bounce off you because he quickly brought you back to him, a little noise escaping your mouth as it felt as if you were dancing on air for how light he made you feel. He was behind you now, his mouth dangerous close to where your neck connected with your shoulder. His breath created goosebumps across your body as a feather kiss was placed against an old love mark he had given you days ago. Your heart seemed to go crazy within your ribcage as he twisted you around, your chests once again flushed against each other’s. Danny took several steps to your side and you quickly joined him, the wine and your wit gradually giving you confidence and soon you both were laughing, as if there was no one else in the restaurant, in the city, in the world.

He took notice in your new found bravely and he swiped his arm under your rump and lifted you up, his smile growing wider as a flood of giggles escaped your mouth as you looked down at him.

“Hey look! I’m finally taller than you!”

“Aye, don’t get used to it!”

He brought you back down and in one swope he dipped you, his strong hands holding you firmly as your back bent against him. It almost felt like a dream, a wondrous and unbelievable dream that you thought if you made one wrong move, you would fall out of bed and this would no longer be real. But the way he effortlessly pulled you back up and looked into your eyes with a lopsided grin, you knew that this wasn’t just a dream, it was a dream come true.

The song smoothly started to transition over to a much more tamed and kinder music that had everyone’s swaying hips go slower and closer. You were still giggling as Danny brought you against him and suddenly it was very cozy between you two.

You let the melody consume you as Danny lightly drifted you throughout the dancefloor, his face ever so slowly getting closer to yours. His hands were roaming your back as he brought you ever so closer to him to the point you both were barely missing each other’s toes. Suddenly it seemed like you both were spinning around each other until his lips barely slipped over yours.

“Look who’s become a jive dancer,” he said silently against your lips and a little groan escaped your lips at just hearing him talk to you like that, every word he ever whispered to you in private with no wondering eyes would burn you to your core.

“I had a good teacher,” you joked back as your hands wrapped around his neck, your nails every so slightly digging into his fur. You felt him lose his breath against your face and his own fingers dug into your lower back and suddenly it felt as if you both weren’t close enough. You both were never close enough.

“Have I mentioned how ravishing you look tonight?” He asked as he leisurely twirled you and brought you back to him.

“Maybe. But it's nice to hear it from such a dreamboat like you,” you said against his lips and he dipped you once again, but you barely made it pass his shoulder as he pushed his mouth against yours. A whirlwind of emotions surfaced throughout your body as your hand came up and caressed his face, your stomach dropping to the floor and your heart traveling up your throat.

He separated himself from you for just a second to bring you back up on your feet before attacking your lips again, one of his hands on the nap of your neck to tilt your head more up.

You were aware of the suspicious and judging eyes that fell upon you both, but for the first time, you didn’t care. He made you worry less, he gave you such an intoxication that not a single bottle of alcohol could ever get you as drunk as he did. The aftertaste of wine drifted onto your lips and you moaned into his mouth, grinning evilly as he shifted in his spot. His tail soon curled around your waist so that his other hand could go to the side of your face.

He detached himself from you for just a second to say, “ Ya better pay that bill before the only thing yer wearing is that smile.”

The world seemed to freeze before you as your hands slipped off of him and walked him over back to the table, the bill trembling in your hands as you paid for it, all while feeling Danny’s hand place itself lower than your back. You can feel sweat slowly start to build over your body as he opened the door for you and followed you out the door.

And before you knew it, you were back at your place, and once Danny closed the door behind you, he pounced, as if he wasn’t the rat, but the cat. His hands traveled over your outfit as if it burned his hands and couldn’t keep them in one spot and his kisses were slow and teasing, causing you to squirm under his touch. You couldn’t breath, you couldn’t hear anything, all you felt was the buzzing against your fingertips as they dug into his chest, your hands had already done the work to undo his tie and his undershirt.

The door met your back and Danny was panting against your lips, his mind had gone completely blank except for you, he only thought about you and this moment, how it might be days until he saw you again. The thought of not seeing you stabbed him in the gut, and he’s known that feeling before, and it’s not a good feeling. He missed hearing your laughter, he desired to see your glistening eyes look at him, he wanted to be with you. It drove him nuts, no, it drove him insane at the thought of it. That once he woke up from your bed, he would have to sneak out early so that no one would see him leave your home and would have to race back to his apartment instead of laying with you and getting to wake up with you in the morning. He’s never been here when you woke up, he’s never been able to see your eyes flutter open and for the first thing for you to see in the morning was him, he’s never been able to see the morning light shine against your features as if the sun was trying to capture your face. He’s never been able to share the first cup of coffee with you, to see his pjs shirt draped over you like a blanket as you watch the morning go by, as he would watch you with loving eyes. And that’s what drove him to kiss you harder, that’s what pushed him to pull your head back and for him to replace your old love marks with new ones, it’s what forced him to savor every second of this, to cherish what you give him tonight, he would cherish every damn second you gave to him in secret.

#rottmnt #tmnt #rottmnt dastardly danny #rottmnt dastardly danny x reader #rottmnt mud dogs #rottmnt mud dogs x reader #Spotify

42 notes · View notes

callboxkat · 4 years

Text

Infinitesimal (part 59)

Author’s note: Sorry for the wait on this one! Enjoy! :)

Warnings: injury and illness, hospital mention, captivity mention, arguing, food mention, death mention, more Christmas content in an entirely wrong month

Word count: 4890

Infinitesimal Masterpost!

Writing Masterpost!

...

An entire day without the humans.

That was what Logan had promised at breakfast that morning, saying that he was going to be spending the day with Roman in the hospital, and that he wouldn’t be back until after they would usually have dinner in the evening. Virgil still didn’t quite understand what a hospital was, other than they were apparently places humans went if they were sick or injured. And for some reason, everyone there wore strange outfits, like long white coats or entirely blue outfits, and pieces of fabric over their faces. Or at least, that was what he saw on the television.

“I’ll just grab something at the cafeteria there, or perhaps at a nearby store,” Logan had said, placing a plate on the table. “In any case, I likely won’t be coming back here to give you three your usual meals. Hopefully, these provisions will suffice, instead.”

The plate had contained the bottle caps with their breakfast, as well as some extra water, bread, butter, raisins and other dried fruit, nuts, veggie chips, and even what appeared to be an entire sugar cookie. It was more than they would need for the day. Far more. But Virgil hadn’t been about to point it out, let alone complain.

“It’s fine,” he had said, watching as Patton tentatively made his way over to the cookie. Emile, meanwhile, seemed to be trying not to laugh at the ridiculous hat the human wore—striped red and green, with what were clearly meant to be pointed ears on the sides, comically larger than a human’s normally were. Virgil had decided not to ask.

“Are you sure?” the human had checked. “Roman probably wouldn’t mind, and I could come up with an excuse for Remus—”

“It’s fine,” Virgil had insisted. “Just go to your hospital thing.”

Patton had looked up as Logan finally nodded, a tiny green sprinkle stuck to his cheek, sitting on the plate by the cookie. He shifted, glancing between them all before asking, “Will… will Roman be back soon?”

“Tomorrow morning, most likely,” Logan had said, a smile tugging at his lips. “He’ll be fine, don’t worry. He misses you three already.”

Virgil had frowned. “What? Why?” he had asked, not really thinking about it as he said it. His tone might have been slightly harsher and more incredulous than he’d intended it. Slightly.

Logan had let out a breath through his nose, glanced at Virgil, and got to his feet. “Well, I should get going,” he sighed. “Remus is waiting, and he did threaten to break down the door if we didn’t leave early enough—he was joking of course, don’t worry.”

And he had left, without another word.

…

“Virgil… that was a little mean,” Emile said. They’d been alone for a while now, and were in the middle of eating their breakfast.

Virgil, who had been contemplating joining Patton’s sugar cookie binge, lowered his spoon and turned towards his brother. “What was? I didn’t do anything.”

“Asking why Roman would miss us,” Emile said, as if that would make sense.

“How’s that mean? I can’t ask a question?”

Patton glanced up as he stuffed another handful of cookie in his mouth. His eyes flicked between the two of them.

“More the implication of it,” he shrugged (one-shouldered, of course).

Virgil frowned at him. “What implication?”

“Well… obviously, they care about us. Especially Patton, I’d guess, but they care about us too.”

Virgil gave him a heavily doubtful look.

“Logan just gave us an entire sugar cookie,” Emile pointed out, clearly feeling that that was all the evidence he needed, and that he didn’t need to bring up the wealth of other evidence he obviously had.

…Which, okay, maybe it was, and maybe he did. Maybe. But Virgil still didn’t see the problem.

Emile rubbed at his good eye. “So, when you asked why Roman would miss us, it sounded like you thought the idea that he might care was ridiculous. Implying that you don’t care about them, either.”

“Because I don’t. They’re humans.”

Emile gave him a long look, making Virgil feel a bit weird, but he wasn’t going to take back what he’d said.

“Well,” Emile said, “human or not, they have feelings. And Roman’s sick, and you basically just told Logan, who’s obviously very worried about him, that you don’t care.”

“What—” Virgil groaned. He hadn’t done anything! “Whatever. Who cares. I don’t care if they like me, as long as you get better.” He grabbed his crutches and started to get up. “I’m getting more food.”

Patton, who had started picking at the cookie rather than shoving it in his mouth, relaxed somewhat now that Virgil and Emile’s tense conversation had ended. “Do you want some, Em?”

Emile smiled at him. “Sure.”

Virgil sat down and irritably bit into a piece of the admittedly very tasty cookie, watching as Patton brought a piece of it over to his brother, laying a bit of paper towel over his lap so he wouldn’t get covered in crumbs.

…

An hour later, Emile was taking a nap, and Virgil and Patton were walking in laps around the table. It was partially so that Virgil could get more practice with his new crutches, and partially so that they could both stretch their legs. Sitting on the table all the time could leave them rather restless, especially since neither of them had left Emile’s side for long. The pair of them could technically leave whenever they wanted, even if for just a short while, but neither had in days. Not since Patton had fetched Virgil’s birthday presents, something that had been Emile’s idea.

“Do you really not care about them?” Patton asked after a while, speaking quietly so as to not wake Emile.

Virgil glanced over. “Do you?”

“I….” Patton worked his jaw, then shrugged. “Well, yeah. I do.”

“Why?”

“They did save me.”

“Isn’t not letting someone die kind of a low bar for decency?”

“It’s not just that.” Patton ducked his head as they walked. “I don’t know. I like them. They’re nice to me.” A moment passed, and then Patton looked back at Virgil, searching him. Virgil’s face grew slightly hot under his gaze. Patton nodded to himself, apparently satisfied with whatever he’d been looking for. “I think you do care about them. You just don’t want to admit it.”

“Pat, they’re human.”

“So?”

“So—Pat, come on. You should know more than anyone why littles and humans can’t be friends.”

Patton’s body language changed. He looked straight ahead and folded his arms tightly, much more closed off than before. Virgil instantly regretted what he’d said. It was cruel to remind Patton of something so awful. He knew his friend wanted nothing more than to forget it, despite the scars and the memories he still struggled with.

“Shouldn’t I of all people know how to tell a good human from a bad one?” Patton asked quietly, not looking at him.

Virgil took a deep breath, in and out, focusing on the swing of his crutches for a few steps. “Sorry. You’re right,” he said. He looked up at the ceiling, far, far above. “Look… I know. I know they care, at least in their own human way. And I know you wouldn’t go around getting attached to just any human. It’s just… hard, for me.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. I guess I just….” Virgil paused, and Patton stopped walking as well. “I hate feeling helpless, you know? And being around humans is just… it’s hard to feel anything but helpless.”

“They haven’t hurt us, though,” Patton pointed out softly.

“I know. It’s just the fact that they could.”

Patton nodded. “I get it. It took me a long time to get used to them, too. After… you know.” He swallowed. “I was so sure they were going to….” He shuddered slightly. “But they didn’t. And I know they’re not going to.”

Virgil was silent for several long seconds. “I know they’re trying to be nice,” he said quietly, “and let’s say they really do care. But that doesn’t change who and what they are: They’re still human. I’m sure there’s a part of them that sees us as lesser, even if they deny it, even to themselves.”

“Virgil….”

“Did they ask you? When they took you from that beach, did they ask you if it was okay?”

He’d meant the question rhetorically, but Patton seemed to consider it. His friend paused, then sat down on the table. Virgil joined him. Patton pulled up his knees and put his chin on top of them. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I think I passed out before they could.”

Virgil grimaced. “And before that?”

“I was hiding in a shell,” Patton said. “And they were there, collecting shells, they told me. And I guess they found the one I was in, so I must’ve gotten out….” He furrowed his brow, thinking hard. “I’m not really sure what happened after that.”

“Did they chase you? Try to catch you?”

Patton opened his mouth, then closed it, uncertain. “…Maybe,” he admitted. “I don’t know. But maybe, for a second.”

Virgil nodded, his suspicions confirmed. “That’s what I thought.”

“It was just a second!” he protested weakly. “I’m sure it all happened very fast. They’d never seen a little before. They probably didn’t know how to react.”

“But they did try to catch you, without your permission, before they even knew you needed help. Doesn’t that tell you something?”

Patton was starting to look distressed. “They didn’t even know if I could talk, at first, or understand them. I remember that. At the start, they kept saying I probably didn’t know what they were saying, but they’d try. They didn’t know if I was like them, or just… I guess an animal who looked like them.”

Virgil gave him a doubtful look.

“Ever since they found out, they tried to treat me more like a person.”

“But they still kept you in a cage.” Among other things they had done that Patton seemed to be forgetting. They might have been months ago, but that didn’t mean they didn’t happen.

“…They didn’t lock it. And I hardly went in there.”

Virgil snorted, and was about to point out that he had on top of a table even taller than this one at the time, too sick to get away; but before he could, he realized that there were tears beginning to collect in Patton’s eyes.

That was more than enough to shut him up.

A beat passed.

Patton rubbed at one eye. “They apologized for everything and let me go,” he said finally, “and they saved me and Emile. Without asking for anything in return. That’s what I choose to remember.” He looked at Virgil pleadingly. “Just try to give them a chance, okay? Just try to be nice? And not just because they’re so big? I think it’d make them really happy.”

Virgil looked Patton up and down, then reluctantly nodded. “Okay. I’ll try.” He’d do it to make Patton happy, at least.

Patton smiled and hugged him. “Thank you.”

Virgil hugged him back, not sure what else to say.

…

When Emile woke up from his nap, they had had lunch, which consisted of bread and butter and dried fruit, and more of the sugar cookie for dessert. Virgil was beginning to wonder if any of the cookie would be left by the time Loan returned.

Later in the day, they changed Emile’s bandages again. Virgil was glad to see how much his brother’s injuries had improved. The rope burn on Emile’s arm was gone, now, and the bruises on his body had nearly faded away. The cut on his head also looked much better. Virgil wasn’t sure if it really needed a bandage anymore; but he’d rather be safe than sorry, when it came to his brother’s health. Maybe they could ask Logan about it when he returned, the littles decided.

The concussion, broken arm and tail, sprained ankle, and dislocated shoulder would all take longer to fully heal, but they would heal.

Afterwards, Emile went for another short walk—strictly two laps this time. He didn’t seem inclined to argue with that limit, especially given how his last attempt at a third lap had ended. Virgil was glad for that.

Much of the afternoon they spent talking and making up games they could play with what they had with them on the table. Snowflakes drifted past outside, visible through the gaps in the curtains until the sun went down.

Overall, it wasn’t a bad day.

It was sort of strange, to go so long without so much as a peep from either human. As hard to believe as it was, Virgil had actually started to get used to their presence. He also caught Patton looking towards the doorway a few times, as if hoping they’d show up, and Emile had made a comment about Logan’s absence as they got ready to eat dinner. Maybe they were wondering how Roman was doing—and, okay, maybe Virgil was kind of curious about that too.

…

Late that evening, Logan finally returned. From the sound of it, he was carrying the same large bag he had left with that morning, but it seemed to be significantly emptier.

The light flicked on in the kitchen as the human entered, and there was the quiet sound of him setting down what he had been holding. Then, there was a small sigh, and footsteps approached the living room.

Logan knocked on the door frame, which was rather unnecessary, considering he already had all three littles’ attention.

“Good evening,” he said with a small smile, coming inside. The ridiculous hat he had worn earlier and the day before was in his hands, now. He knelt in front of the table, to be closer to eye level, staying a few feet away. “Did you three have a good day?”

“Sure,” said Virgil, to play nice.

“Did you?” Emile asked, only somewhat timidly.

Logan nodded, a fond look on his face as he thought about it. “Yes, it was quite enjoyable. More so than I had expected.”

“How’s Roman?”

“Is Roman okay?” Patton blurted out at the same time.

“Roman is doing well,” Logan said. “He’s resting, and he seems in good spirits. He’s not happy to be in the hospital, especially today, but we tried to make the best of it.”

“Especially today?”

Logan nodded vaguely, looking off to one side.

“Can we have another sugar cookie?” Patton asked, apparently unable to stop himself.

Logan looked amused, and his eyes drifted to the half-finished cookie on the plate. “I can get you another tomorrow,” he said. “I think Remus ate the last one in the car. I’m glad to see you like them.”

Patton looked pleased at the idea.

Logan set down the ridiculous hat he’d been holding, put his hands on his legs, then asked, “Do you three celebrate Christmas, by chance?”

“…Why?” Virgil asked rather than answering. He tried to remind himself that Logan was probably only asking out of curiosity; but he still didn’t quite feel secure enough to admit that he and Emile had never celebrated it, and that they only knew some vague information about the holiday. He didn’t know if Patton had ever celebrated it, or if he knew any more about it than they did; but now was probably not the time to ask. He kept a carefully neutral tone, rather than allowing any bite to sneak in. For Patton.

“Well, Christmas was today,” Logan informed them. “Or is today, more accurately. Roman is quite fond of the holiday, and he was disappointed to have to spend it in the hospital, regardless of my and his brother’s efforts to cheer him up. He will likely wish to do some sort of celebration with the three of you, once he is home and able.”

“Some sort of celebration”? What does that mean? Virgil frowned.

Emile and Patton also looked unsure, so Logan added, “It won’t be any sort of large celebration, especially given that he needs to rest. I believe he has presents for the three of you, however.” He paused, then continued in a slightly more humorous tone, “It will likely involve more sugar cookies, if that is at all persuasive.”

“He’s found our weakness,” Emile hissed behind his good hand.

He probably hadn’t meant for Logan to hear that, but the human clearly had. He let out a small huff of a laugh.

“There’s no reason to be nervous, I assure you. It will be very, ah… “low-key”.”

“Okay,” Patton said shyly, the first to respond.

He might admit to caring about the humans, Virgil thought, watching as Logan straightened to his full, impossible height, but they do still make him nervous. As they should.

…

The next morning, Logan brought Roman home.

He’d warned them, at breakfast, that he would be doing so; and sure enough, just over an hour after Logan had left for the hospital, they had arrived. Virgil had looked up as he heard the door open. The pair had walked in, and someone—probably Logan—had dragged a kitchen chair out for the other—probably Roman—to sit down in with a muffled thump. Virgil could hear the both of them now, talking in the kitchen. Roman’s voice was low and quiet and infrequent, enough that Virgil couldn’t make it out very well. Logan’s voice, however, was clear. He kept asking Roman if he was okay, checking that he was comfortable, things like that. Nothing overly interesting, although interesting chit-chat wasn’t what Virgil was listening for.

Finally, Logan’s footsteps approached the living room. He stood in the doorway and knocked.

All three littles had already been watching the doorway, of course.

Logan smiled tiredly. “Roman is here,” he informed them, unnecessarily. He shifted on his feet. Virgil felt nervous, wondering what that was about. “He is feeling much better than he did before,” he said slowly. “But… I hoped to make a request.”

Patton and Emile glanced at each other.

“What kind of request?” Patton asked, his head tilted slightly.

“Well… as you know, Roman is still not feeling quite like his usual self. I would propose that he and I spend tonight, and perhaps tomorrow night, or ideally however many it takes until he is well, in the living room with you. We would stay on the couches, without bothering you any more than necessary. I would greatly appreciate it—"

Virgil had heard enough. “No. No, absolutely not.”

Patton didn’t exactly look keen on the idea either, but also didn’t seem to agree with Virgil’s flat refusal. “Virgil…”

“I said no.”

“It is their home,” he said softly. “They’re letting us stay here. We should hear him out.”

“No. I know you asked me to be nice, but no. We’re not doing that.”

“I understand why you would be reluctant,” Logan said, “but all I want is for more of us to be around, in case something happens. I doubt anything will, but… I…” Logan swallowed. “I almost didn’t find him. I almost didn’t get out of bed.” He looked to one side, appearing briefly lost in thought. He straightened again. “It would ease a lot of anxiety, to know that I was not the only one around to notice if something happened.”

Virgil frowned at him, still not exactly pleased.

“If something did happen, what could we do?” Emile asked quietly, but loud enough for the human to hear, posing what Virgil felt was a very good question.

“Not much,” Virgil put in.

“Perhaps not physically,” Logan allowed, “but you could alert me to his plight.”

“…Won’t you be there anyway? Why can’t you have a sleepover in one of your rooms?”

Logan colored slightly. “I have considered it, but… I’m not the lightest sleeper,” he admitted.

The littles all glanced at each other. Emile gave a one-shoulder shrug. Patton was biting his lip. Virgil folded his arms.

Logan looked towards the kitchen. “Just… allow me to fetch him. Please. So that you can see him, before you make up your minds.”

Pretty sure I already made up my mind, Virgil thought. But he didn’t say anything as Logan left.

They heard a few whispered words, and then Logan returned, with Roman holding onto one of his arms.

Patton let out a small gasp, and Virgil’s arms unfolded as he stared at the human.

Roman’s face was dotted with bits of sweat, his hair dull, his face paler than usual. He leaned on Logan, his breathing shallow. Virgil could hear it as he wheezed in and out.

Still, when he saw the littles, he smiled.

“Sit down here,” Logan urged, leading Roman to the seat on the couch closest to the doorway. Roman sank into it gratefully, leaning his head on the back of the couch and closing his eyes, like just walking in from the kitchen had exhausted him.

…Damn it.

“Fine,” Virgil said.

…

Logan had set Roman up on the couch, propped up on pillows and covered with lots of fluffy blankets, holding a smoothie and with Netflix pulled up for him on the TV.

“They added Avatar,” Roman told the “mouse-men”, his voice softer and airier than usual, but still cheerful, “So it’s... a lot easier… than the DVDs.”

The “mouse-men”, who were all sharing two bottle caps, each filled with a bit of Logan’s and Roman’s smoothies (Logan’s was strawberry-banana, Roman’s mango-blueberry), clearly didn’t understand what this meant; but Emile especially seemed happy at the idea of watching more of the cartoon series.

Logan was very glad that the three of them had agreed to let him and Roman stay in the living room with them. It made him feel better, knowing that there were three more people around to notice if Roman had another attack and couldn’t alert Logan.

He thought of the night before Christmas Eve, when Roman had had his attack. Logan had only gone to check on Roman because of the second crash, not the first. What if there had only been one, only the sound of the rocks being knocked to the floor? Would Logan have woken enough when it had happened to recognize what it was? Or would he have assumed the same thing he first assumed when he heard Roman’s dresser drawer fall—that Roman was simply being a bit careless as he worked on things in his room? Would he have found his friend in time?

Sure, after what had happened, he would be significantly more inclined to check on his friend after any sort of crash, or remotely similar sound; but that fact didn’t guarantee that Logan would wake up in the first place, or recognize what had woken him. He was a heavy sleeper, as much as he wished he could be otherwise. What if something happened, and Logan slept through the whole thing? He shuddered at the thought.

“Too cold?” Roman asked, interrupting his thoughts.

Logan glanced up. “What?”

“Your smoothie,” Roman said. “Brain freeze?”

“Ah… perhaps a bit,” Logan said. He took another sip, then gestured at the television. “Have you decided what episode you’re going to watch?”

“We’re on The Siege of the North.”

A couple of episodes later, as the credits began to roll, Logan got up to dispose of his now-empty smoothie cup, Roman caught his eye. He looked meaningfully at Logan, then at the “mouse-men”, and back.

Logan paused. Presents? he mouthed questioningly.

Roman nodded, and put his hands together in a begging gesture, hidden behind a pillow so the “mouse-men” couldn’t see. Not that they would have noticed anyway—Emile and Patton were too busy talking about the ending of the first season of their show, dragging an only somewhat reluctant Virgil along in their excitement.

Logan nodded, went to get rid of his cup like he had planned, and returned holding the three small packages he had found in Roman’s air vent, as well as the small decorated Christmas tree he and Remus had brought to the hospital. He’d even put on the ridiculous elf had Remus had given him. By the time he returned with everything, the “mouse-men” had mostly calmed down, and instead watched as he handed Roman his reindeer antler headband, placed the little Christmas tree on an unoccupied table, and then set the gifts before the “mouse-men”. Thankfully, they had just finished not only an episode but a season of the show they had been watching, so the timing was good for Roman hit pause.

“What’s this?” Virgil asked, eyeing his box. Logan had informed them about the presents’ existence, but the “mouse-man” was clearly unsure about what said presents might be, and how he should feel about them.

“Presents,” Roman said simply, smiling.

Patton inspected his box as well, then looked for a long moment at the small, plastic Christmas tree with an expression Logan couldn’t read. Emile followed his gaze and hesitantly pointed at it. “What’s that?”

“That is a Christmas tree,” Logan said, sitting on the second sofa, since Roman was taking up most of the first. “They’re traditional for the holiday. Sometimes they’re real trees; but as you can see, this one is artificial. People decorate them with lights and ornaments, often winter or Christmas themed, although they can be almost anything. Most commonly, they’re colored spheres.”

Emile looked no less confused, but he did seem interested. “Why?”

Roman shrugged, snuggling into his blanket nest. “Fun? I always liked… decorating them with… my family.”

Emile seemed to accept that answer, and turned to look at his present. Patton pushed it closer for him while Virgil looked on, conflicted.

“You may open them,” Logan encouraged.

Roman was also watching, clearly trying to hide how excited he was.

Patton and Emile started peeling back the paper, with Virgil following their lead a second later. Patton finished opening his present first. He lifted up the lid, and pulled out an inch-square piece of paper.

“It’s a drawing! Of…” he blinked. “Me?”

“Do you like it?” Roman asked, sounding simultaneously very excited and very shy.

Patton stared at it for a second, then nodded, his eyes wide. He murmured something that Logan didn’t make out, then said, “How did you draw this?”

Roman looked sheepish. “With great care… and about six tries.”

…

The drawing of Patton was done in very careful colored pencil. The lines were thick enough that it was very obviously a drawing, but it captured Patton’s face almost perfectly. He was smiling, his hair smoother and fuller than it was in real life, and looked as if it would feel soft if you were to touch it. Great care had clearly been taken to get just the right blue-green hue of his eyes.

It was a good drawing, Virgil would admit, especially since a human’s large, clumsy fingers had managed to create it.

Virgil looked away and lifted up the box lid of his own present, revealing that he had also received a drawing. It was done in colored pencil, like Patton’s, and also like Patton’s, it was of him. Virgil pulled it out and looked at it. He could feel Roman’s eyes on him, probably hoping for a reaction, but Virgil did his best to ignore him and just look at the drawing.

The drawing looked just like Virgil, even with the right eye color and the graphite smeared under his eyes, and the start of the hoodie he always wore. He wasn’t smiling, but he looked… strong. Confident. Defiant. Capable. Not at all like the weak, helpless tiny thing he might have expected a human to see him as.

Huh.

Emile was the last to get his gift open, given the fact that he had to do so with one arm. Once he got the box lid off, Virgil helped him pull out the paper within.

“I had to make some guesstimates… with yours,” Roman said, reaching up to touch his temple where the bandages covered Emile’s own. “I hope I got… it right. ”

He had. The drawing in his and Emile’s hands looked exactly like Emile, minus the injuries and bandages that currently obscured his features. He was smiling in his drawing, like Patton, although not as widely. He looked… the only word Virgil could come up with for it was protective. Which suited Virgil’s brother very well.

“Do you like them?” Roman asked.

“I do,” Emile said.

Virgil nodded, looking back at his own drawing.

After the presents were opened, the humans switched from watching Avatar; The Last Airbender to a movie Virgil didn’t recognize. A Christmas movie, they said. Virgil wasn’t sure what elves who wanted to be “dentists” or deer with glowing red noses had to do with Christmas, or how any of this made any sense; but Patton seemed invested in the movie from the start, so he just watched without saying anything. Patton even seemed to be ignoring the Christmas tree, even after Logan had plugged in a cord to light it up.

Next, they watched a movie called The Nightmare before Christmas.

“I think you’re gonna like this one,” Roman had told Virgil knowingly as Logan put it in the player.

…He was right. Virgil didn’t just like it. He loved it.

Not that he would tell the humans that, but he knew that he wouldn’t have had to.

82 notes · View notes

squidpro-quo · 4 years

Text

AN: Because I’m a sucker for The Witcher now, I guess? Just a short look into the little things, I got stuck on Jaskier’s ‘bread in my pants’ line and now Geralt has to deal with it too (also on ao3)

Geralt knows that Jaskier had introduced himself as a ‘man with bread in his pants’ but after experiencing his characteristic chatter, he’d immediately assumed it was a metaphor for something else entirely, probably lewd or perhaps just plain inane. At the time he’d been making far more of an effort to not pay attention to any of the other patrons in the inn, including the bard, be it the booing from the other end or the whispers that swarmed at his sight, and so it comes as a surprise when he finds Jaskier was being completely forthright.

Months later, after a feast he’d begrudgingly attended for reasons he’d rather forget, he’d been on his way out of the hall as the more drunken noble guests became rowdier than a saloon with free ale. Shoving his way free of the stragglers, he’d caught sight of an as-yet still buttoned and far too brightly colored set of clothes ducking down to table level, only to rise with an odd bulge added to the front as if its wearer had gained an extra roll of fat in the span of seconds.

“Jaskier,” he growls once he’s closer, interrupting the bard’s attempts at stuffing another piece of loaf of bread down his sleeve that would undoubtedly have made them as thick as Geralt’s, if not more prone to crumbs.

“Ah, Geralt! Off to recuperate after a strenuous evening of people smiling at you and badgering you with unwanted gratitude? I’m about sung out myself, always a bit more stored in there of course, for a last serenade or two for a bedfellow, but I’m—”

“What else are you storing?” Geralt pokes the offending section of Jaskier’s chest, his finger sinking into the fabric as what was underneath gave under the pressure. But instead of the sheepish hiding that he’d thought the accusation would bring out, Jaskier splutters and fumes like a barely boiling pot of water. Holding his head high as if it wasn’t Geralt who had jabbed him but rather one of the nobles accusing him of sleeping with their various innocent relatives, he backs into the table so suddenly his lute twangs.

“Oi, that’s my breakfast in four days! Don’t need you squashing it before its time.”

“It’s already squashed,” Geralt mutters, which only brought even more affront into Jaskier’s face.

“I’ll have you know, this is the finest sweetbread you could find this side of Toussaint.”

“And this side of your pants.” It was a habit he wouldn’t have thought to pin on the man who stuck out in a village like a peacock among partridges, but more likely he was just so attached to the finer foods in life that he’d stock up however he could. Besides, the cooks in the castle won’t miss the few loaves that fit up Jaskier’s trousers and he can’t fault the man for taking advantage of the situation, albeit in an unconventional way.

But it continues.

“You stepped on that one,” he notes, once Jaskier has plopped onto the bench beside him, their shoulders bumping together as he takes a swig from his tankard. The inn is as filthy as they came, the patrons even filthier, and yet Jaskier stuck to stuffing what had to be at least half a loaf of bread into his pockets.

“And? This town might not appreciate the delicate nuance of my songs and tales, honestly that lady in the corner near took my eye out with her aim, but that doesn’t keep them from feeding us, one way or another. Roach would say not to look a fellow horse in the mouth.” He tears a bite off the one he still held in his hand and leans back with a sigh.

“Even she wouldn’t eat some of this.” Geralt has to wonder if this was what Jaskier had grown used to from before they’d met. Despite his rancor at the earworm of a song that the bard had created, even he would have to be dull as a bogweed to not notice the decline in curses, glares, and general spitting that greets him in a new town and how much of that might be owed to the one currently filling his pockets with crumbs. And yet with fortune smiling on them more often, it hadn’t lessened this odd habit of frugality at all.

“I don’t say anything about your morning talks with her, when you think I can’t hear you even though you discuss more with your horse than with me. Nor about how you have an apparent allergy to smiling.”

This close, with Jaskier pushing into him as he fiddles with his lute in the small space, Geralt can see the collar of his doublet with fine gold stitching along the edge that must have cost at least ten full dinners if not more. The doublet that Jaskier had complained about being soiled during a back-alley fight with a few mercenaries a fortnight ago when a seam had been ripped is the same as the one he is now stowing stale bread in. The bard has enough coin saved up from the last town to afford a meal served on a plate instead of the floor and yet he never gives up the chance to play in an inn, no matter the crowd’s reaction.

“Why?” Geralt finds himself asking; the question pushing against his mind until it slips out against his better judgement. He shouldn’t care, Jaskier’s habits, as long as they’re not getting him killed or annoying him personally, are just another facet of him that Geralt doesn’t understand, like the running commentary on their adventures or his insistence on helping with baths. Just another part of Jaskier that he’d forgotten to question somewhere along the way and now it’s merely another shade of color in his many and varied clothes. That doesn’t stop him from being curious, however.

“Why do you have an allergy to smiling? I don’t know, Geralt, you tell me.” Jaskier waves his bread to accentuate his point, flakes of it raining onto the table like dandruff.

Instead of replying, Geralt finishes off his pint and returns a patron’s glare with a blank stare until the apparent butcher turns back to his dinner sans bread.

The third time he brings it up, he doesn’t have to ask Jaskier the question. It’s almost half a year later, a time after they’d separated for their own purposes, and his only concern is collecting the coin he was promised after clawing his way through a burrow of rotfiends. The venom he’d ended up coated with drips onto the street with every step and it must have clogged his ears too, because that’s the only explanation for why he hears Jaskier’s voice from the dark gap between two shops.

“I’ve got more! You can take it all.”

His first instinct is to unsheathe his sword again, ignore the ache in his bones and wade into whatever puddle of trouble Jaskier had fallen into. But the words don’t sound like the bard’s being mugged, not fearful or worried, quiet though they are.

Stopping by the entrance to the small alley, he wipes a hand over his splattered face and peers in to see Jaskier crouched by a gaggle of urchins pulling hunk after handful of bread from his sleeves and pockets to accompanying laughter. None of the children look older than ten, one of them trails a grubby dwarvish doll from a three-fingered hand while another sits in the mud to chew the scraps he’d gotten with teeth sharp enough to gnaw bone in half.

“That might be all,” he admits after another minute or so, before sweeping the feathered hat he only wore during the gaudier festivals off his head to show its contents. “Ah, I’d almost forgotten about these! They had a fresh harvest last night, just on hand I guess, and I caught a few besides.”

The hat is quickly emptied and the children scatter, one scooting by Geralt with her ears hidden under a torn kerchief pulled low, until the alley is empty save Jaskier standing up to dust his hat and pat down his much emptier jacket. Geralt meets his eyes as he turns to leave and the smile that crosses his face is fast, deceptively fast.

“Geralt! That rotfiend must have been a wimpy one for you to finish so quickly! I wasn’t expecting you back until nightfall, would have made for a dramatic return, but no matter, I can tweak that in later. Besides, hard to recognize you anyway, looking like a pustule come walking like that.”

“There’s lettuce in your hair,” Geralt notes, pulling the stray greenery out with his offal-sticky fingers as Jaskier ducks his head to brush away any more telltale signs.

“Oh that, that’s nothing. I had a face full of tomato last night, some villagers had a bumper crop, I guess. Had those on hand when they were trying to take Roach from the stables, but she wasn’t having it so I tried to shoo them off and got a few vegetables from my trouble...” Catching sight of Geralt’s expression, Jaskier trails off with his arms still gesturing madly with hat in hand. “What?”

“Your actions speak louder than your words, bard.” The odd feeling that’s warming him doesn’t bother Geralt at the moment and Jaskier’s grin is infectious enough to make his foot slip in the pool of slime that had collected on the cobbles.

“Aren’t you the one who was asking about respect back then? My songs are for you.” Jaskier shrugs, patting Geralt’s shoulder. “But I do with my bread what I want. Including storing it in my pants.”

“Hm.” He rakes his gaze down Jaskier’s clothes, the embroidery fuzzing up at his wrists and the slight pouch shape still retained by his shirt at the waist. “You could use some bigger clothes.”

“Are you offering me your own then?” Jaskier dances into motion when Geralt strides off at the comment, ending up skipping backward up the street to keep up with his faster pace. “I couldn’t refuse such a generous gift, but I do imagine there’s bits of kikimora caked into every inch—”

“No.” His destination can’t come fast enough. Pushing the door to the inn open, Jaskier follows in his wake like a bee that won’t stop buzzing until its duty is done. He spares a look at the villagers waiting at the bar, deciding his current state will do nicely in securing the coin they’d promised and strides across the room to slam his sword down on the counter.

“It’s all right here!” The first man’s fingers fumble with the pouch as he pulls it from his pocket. “Are they all dealt with?”

“Depends on how my horse feels about revisiting the site to check for any stragglers.”

“Yes, I see. Well,” he adds a few extra pieces of silver in with the rest, a nervous smile nailed onto the man’s face, “A fine mare she is, to carry such a man.”

Looping the drawstring around the pommel of his sword, he makes for the stairs, ignoring the way Jaskier’s glare disappeared as soon as he’d turned around. Just as he makes a point to forget the handful of silver he slips into the pocket of Jaskier’s pants when he steals Geralt’s bath after he’s done.

#geralt of rivia #the witcher #jaskier #dandelion #geraskier #my writing #idk what I'm doing I got roped into watching this by my brother and now here i am #i need to go read the first book again #and steal my brother's copies of the rest

103 notes · View notes

genericfandomname344 · 4 years

Text

Kintsugi of the Heart

Chapter 2: The Cabin in the Woods

Previous Chapter: Here

Summary: Steph has taken Steven to a cabin, now living in an isolated part of the forest with a town miles away, he learns what his new ‘training’ entails and what he will adapt to as he lives in the new place.

Steven felt an overwhelming wash of emotions flooding through him. He had no chance to fight or speak, it was going too fast against his own will. The tight grip on his shoulder wouldn’t let him step off. He wanted to protest, opening his mouth but his voice wasn’t able to leave his throat as the blast of light filled his senses.

Disoriented, Steven could only breathe before he realized the black dotting in his sight. Peering around, he was in a completely new place.

It took a moment for the shock to aside, his eyes trail to the man’s face. The taller male released his hold on the child, placing a hand on his hip as he extended his free hand before them.

“Welcome to our new home!”

Steven shot his head forward, the two were on a dirt road leading towards a cabin. The house looked well crafted, with a wide porch and chimney. He swallows, taking a step away from the man.

“New.. home? No one knows I’m here, I didn’t even get to say goodbye, or pack- or tell anyone. I can’t leave my family behind, I don’t even know you..” Steven rambled, Steph folded his arms, cocking his eyebrow.

“Steven, really. It’s no big deal. We will train, and take you back home before anyone can even miss you! It’ll be, like five minutes for them.” He scoffs, waving his hand in a nonchalant manner. Steven frowns, returning to fidgeting the hem of his shirt.

“The Gems always tell me when they’re leaving- I should too.”

“They’ll be so excited with your powers they won’t care.” The man picked the smaller child up by the underarms, and plopped him off the black tile as he kneels, pressing onto the orb in the center as it snaps back into the black box. As it turned back, he flipped the lid off, grabbing something inside and tearing it out with a hard tug.

“What.. is that?” Steven grabbed onto the muscular forearm of his brother- other dimensional brother?- as the male lowered himself, bending down as he faced his hand towards the boy. He uncurled his fingers to reveal a small gem. The gem was something he couldn’t recognize. It was a yellow hue, with a triangular shape. Steven instantly frowned, shooting a stunned stare to the man.

“You were using a gem to power it- like they did to Lapis?” His voice was tainted by judgement, as he couldn’t hide the anger. Steph couldn’t stop himself from rolling his eyes, standing back up.

“She consented. She’ll form in a little bit, we both know that.” He pocketed the gem and box back into the letterman jacket. “She’ll be… delighted to meet you.”

He began the hike towards the cabin, waving his hand for the other to follow him. “C’mon, Steven, I’ll give you a tour.”

Without much options, Steven peaked towards the dirt road, finding the winding road to last miles off without much in sight- and he could only assume he was in Steph’s original universe, he didn’t recognize anything around him- he could only follow behind the other.

The cabin’s porch was wide, without fencing, as the steps leading up had no rails. It was a bit to get used to, since his own beach house had rails he would hold onto and use as he took each step. At least the stairs weren't as long.

The actual porch had a few items, two chairs, a grill pressed to the side of the house till used, and a welcome mat at the door. Steph wiped his sneakers, before taking the shoes off by his feet.

“Don’t wear your shoes in the house.” Steph explained, walking past the entrance door as Steven was quick to pick off his flip flops, walking further in.

The interior of the cabin was simple, the walls and floors were wooden, with a few splashes of wallpaper for accent. The living room space had a rustic wooden couch, with flannel cushions, each side of the couch had a side table, with a few decorative pieces scattered around the lamps in the center. The coffee table was in front of the sofa, with an antler bowl in the center of it. The fireplace was in front of the door, accompanying a corridor beside it.

The kitchen was divided by a half wall, giving the room an open floor plan. The half wall had a set of table and chairs pressed against it, with the actual kitchen equipment not far from it.

Steph placed the gemstone on the side table by the door and tossed the jacket on the couch, he entered the living room, shoving his hands down his frontal pockets, awaiting for Steven to file inside.

Stepping inside the cabin, he took a moment to look around. “Is this where me and you in this universe live?”

“Uh- no. Our grandparents are letting me live here.” He shrugs, glancing around the place.

“We have grandparents? - I thought Dad grew up in a prison.”

Steph simply shook his head, unable to hide his sneer as he stared to the floor, refusing to meet Steven’s gaze.

He huffed, “No, our Dad had some pretty good parents.” He walked into the kitchen, finally looking towards the kid. Steven rubs his arm.

“I guess our dimensions are different.”

Steph snorts, not responding to his comment. “Are you hungry?”

“Oh, I bought some donuts.” Steven went to lift his arm, before realizing he left his paper bag back at his house.

“Oh noo! I forgot the donuts!” He shouted, matting his chubby fingers within his dark locks. “I’m gonna have to wait months for them now!”

“They won’t spoil.” Steph offers, opening the fridge door. He bent over, digging within the contents of the icebox. He straightened back up with handfuls of lunch for the two. Taking them to the kitchen table, he left them on the surface as he took a seat in one of the wooden chairs.

He pulled the wooden chair out for Steven, patting the seat portion to gesture Steven to sit at the table alongside him. Steven came to the table, sitting next to him as he grabbed for some of the food.

Steph had grabbed them both a can of soda with a baggie, there was a bagel sandwich containing cream cheese, fried egg, and turkey. Steven slowly brought one of the baggies towards him and one of the sodas.

“It’s.. my favorite.” Steven sounded unsure, pulling the bagel out of the bag and took a small, testing bite of the sandwich.

“Yeah, I know you.” Steph chuckles, opening his own plastic bag and taking a bite out of his bagel. “I wanna put the ground rules out there.”

Steven took another bite, a bigger bite than the first as he turned his attention towards Steph. “Um, alright.”

“You got a curfew, you’re gonna start school here-”

“I thought we were gonna be here for a few months… Just to get my powers all working?” Steven interrupted him once more, making Steph exhale through his teeth.

“As long as you’re here, we’re going to do everything right.” Steph took a bite of his meal. “Trust me, I wish I had this.”

“I.. thought you trained me, or, uh, brother version of me.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t get a good trainer like me till a lot later.” He nods towards the side table where he had left the gem. “When you’re ready, she’s gonna train you.” He held his arm out, flexing his thick bicep before slapping his hand on it. “And you’ll look like me- cool, right?”

Steven shrugs, looking down at his stomach. “I guess.”

Steph cracked open his soda, chugging it before slamming the can against his forehead to flatten it, flicking it from his fingers onto the table. “It’s pretty cool.”

He almost seemed to glow brighter whenever he got cocky.

Steven sipped at his own soda. “Um, do I get to meet myself?”

“No- it’d break my dimension.” Steph shakes his hand, taking another bite of his food, chewing as he spoke. “Just say your name is Steve or something when our grandparents call.”

“Our grandparents call us?”

“Yeah, every day. You can talk to them after a while. I’m still trying to sell them on the idea of you.”

“I guess telling them of different dimensions is pretty difficult.”

“We’re just gonna say you’re my half brother.”

Steven blinks, “Oh..”

“Yeah, my brother hasn’t been one to really be apart of their life. They don’t even know he exists.”

Steven taps on the table with his fingertips. “If I had grandparents I would’ve liked to meet them.”

“Me too, Kid.”

The lunch was quiet after that, Steph stared forward as Steven awkwardly ate. Not sure what to do, he had the unshaking urge to say something to his other universe brother. Without much of an idea on how to comfort the suddenly somber man, he patted the man’s arm before returning to his food.

He never really thought of his grandparents, maybe in passing, but with all the gem stuff in his life thinking of something so human was usually sidelined. What would his grandparents be like?

He swallowed the last portion of his bagel, he supposed when Steph let him talk to them on the phone he would find out.

After he finished his pop, he slammed the can to his forehead just as Steph had. The soda can did little but bent at the ring. Steven winched as he rubbed his forehead groaning quietly. Feeling something coating his fingers, he brought his hand to his view- seeing his own blood covering his fingertips made him tense.

He didn’t get much of a chance to react, as Steph lifted Steven from his seat and kissed the small slice on his forehead.

“Maybe wait till we actually train.”

Steven touched all over his face. “You got healing spit too?”

“Healing spit, tears, blood- kinda whatever comes out.” Steph stood up, taking the baggies and cans to the trash. “Ready to see your bedroom?”

“I get my own bedroom here?” Steven slid out of his chair, wiping the bread crumbs off his shirt.

“Yeah, Little Bud. ‘Course you get a bedroom.” Steph waved his hand, exiting the kitchen and heading towards the corridor. Steven was quick to follow. He thought he’d just sleep on the couch but hearing he would have his own room felt nice.

The hallway walls were full of paintings, older photographs and decor. There were three doors, and Steph opened the first door in the short hallway. “Here’s yours.”

The bedroom was plain, the wooden frame bed had a blue flannel comforter and matching pillows. The floor, like the rest of the cabin, was woodend. There was a large rug that covered most of the bedroom, with a dresser pushed to the side beside the door, a single nightstand with a lamp. The rest of the room was bare, Steven took a moment to look around the new space for himself.

“Yeah, it’s not much. But I got a pair of extra clothes for you, and we can go to town tomorrow and get us all ready to hold out here.” Steph leans on the door pane, just watching Steven’s reaction to the room.

Once he was closer to the bed, he realized there was a plush star on the bed. It was lumpy and yellow, and when he lifted it up and pressed on the center, small lights glowed through it. Steven stared at it for a moment. “Oh , it’s a little plushie star, that’s cute.” His voice was warm, bright in a way it hasn’t been in his own universe for so long.

“I remember how much we- you loved to cuddle those plush dolls. Thought it’ll help you get adjusted.”

“Yeah, it does..” He dropped the star plush back upon the bed, taking a moment to breathe.

Steven glanced around, scratching the side of his head. “Uh, never really slept in a room alone before.” He started fidgeting his shirt again. “My house is really open, I don’t have walls like this.”

Steph ran a hand through his hair, pausing for a moment before he spoke. “Well, Jasper got a claim on the couch.”

“Jasper?” Steven tilted his head.

“Gem I left on the table.” Steph just shrugged towards the entrance of the house. “The one that’ll train you when you’re ready.”

“Am I close to being ready?”

“No, not at all.” Steph gave a heavy laugh at the thought. “I barely was. If it wasn’t for her… I’d be completely miserable.”

He entered the bedroom, puffing out his chest as he held onto his hips. “But she taught me how to use all that anger, all that pain.” He held his hands out in fists, staring down at them. “All that damage…”

He hums, letting his hands go slack as he nodded to himself. “Trust me, Little Bud. Once you get to learn how to do that, your whole world is gonna open up.”

“But, I don’t have anger- I’m not unhappy.”

The large hand of the man landed in the mess of curls of the younger, smiling down at him in a way that wasn’t joyous. It almost looked like pain had washed over him. “You think that now, but it’s gonna form. And you’ll know how to deal with it.”

“Am I gonna grow up, having anger and damage inside me?” Steven grips at his shirt, a fear coming over him as Steph’s face immediately softens. Steph leaned closer to get to Steven’s eye level.

“We all grow up with damage, but you’re gonna grow up knowing how to deal with it. It won’t be so bad.” The older man winked, making a finger gun as a way to comfort. He turned on his heels, “C’mon, Little Bud, I’ll show you around the woods!”

Steven bit his lip, like each time before, he followed without a choice.

Steph guided Steven through the woods area.

“Our grandparents owned this land, this used to be their vacation site when Greg was younger-”

“You.. mean Dad?”

“Yeah- sure, but we get this all to ourselves. The best place to start our training.” Steph held his arms out with his fingers spread to emphasise the land before them. “Though, Jasper isn’t gonna like how green this land is.”

“I didn’t know there were any other Gems but the Crystal Gems for a long time, Lapis left for homeworld awhile back, is that where Jasper’s from?”..” Steven began, not bothering to care if it bothers Steph if he spoke again while he was. Steph thinned his lips, swallowing before he spoke.

“Yep- lots of Gems are from Homeworld.”

That was all Steph would say on the matter.

Steph took Steven across the greenlands, allowing him to see the backyard full of wildlife.

“See that tree? Don’t go past that line, if I can’t see you from the kitchen’s window I don’t want you going any further.”

“.. Why?” Steven looked completely confused by that rule. Steph wasn’t surprised, from a life of running wild no wonder he didn’t get the idea of running in the woods alone wasn’t going to be allowed.

It was a good thing he was raised in a safe town, or Steven could have winded up dead or kidnapped.

Well. Kidnapped by someone without his best interests in mind.

“I don’t know this place well. Just, stay in my visual line of sight.” Steph kept his voice light. Steven grabbed at the collar of his shirt, gently tugging.

“Steph, this is a lot of rules for a few months.” The boy was meek in his words, squeezing and twisting his shirt worse as he spoke up. He didn’t look up at Steph, but he felt his eyes on him.

A beat passed.

“Let me show you the car. Maybe you can drive it sometime, the town near here is far, so we won’t get caught.” Steph’s voice was cheery and kind. He placed his large hand on Steven’s back, pushing him along towards the front to show his car.

Steven wanted to put his feet down and continue asking questions, but the person before him was larger, stronger, and didn’t seem to want to listen. He knew he was safe, he was with his brother, of course. But it seemed Steph wasn’t telling him everything.

The tour around the cabin was uneventful, he showed him the clothing line and explained the limited technology of the cabin. How they would wash their own clothes and how fun it would be. Steven wasn’t sure how much fun that would actually be.

He wasn’t sure how long they spent outside, but when the sun was beginning to set and the skies turned orange, Steph insisted they return inside to make supper. Steven figured they would have another pair of bagels- maybe in front of the television.

But as soon as they came inside, Steph tied a bandana around his forehead and walked into the kitchen, beckoning Steven to follow as he washed his hands in the kitchen sink. He walked and moved so quickly that Steven was still removing his flipflops at the door.

“C’mon, Little Bud, we’re making meatloaf!”

Steph pulled out all sorts of things, plenty of vegetables with a pound of beef and seasonings. He handed the child a knife and a cutting board. “You’re on chopping duty, I think you can handle it.”

After Steph preheats the oven, he begins to gather all the things he needed for the recipe, all while Steven cuts up the onions and bell peppers. “Hey Steph?”

“Yeah?” He clicks his tongue, getting the oil and ketchup from the fridge, closing it with his foot as he places all the bottles on the countertop.

“Um.. Why are you pink?” It felt wrong to ask, like he would offend Steph.

Steph laughed a hearty laugh, running his fingers from his forehead to the back of his head. “I thought you would ask that a lot sooner.” Steph kept his eyes on Steven, his calm expression putting Steven at ease.

“Were you, born pink?” Steven inquired, now curious on how that's possible. He was so used to odd things, somehow a glowing pink man wasn’t the weirdest part of his day.

“No, I wasn’t born pink- I was born just like you.” Steph assures, returning his attention back towards the stove. “I’m pink ‘cause I’m at my full potential.”

“Am I pink here too, your brother?”

“Sure.” Steph placed the pot on the burner, pouring the oil in and awaiting Steven to finish chopping up the veggies he needed. Steph kept his back to Steven as he worked.

“You kinda look like Mom, it’s really cool- do you have her powers? Are you-”

“We don’t talk about her.” The bark of the older’s voice hit the air like a leather belt snap, Steven’s voice died in his throat, going dry. A moment past, the pink skinned man refused to look back at the boy who trembled at the sudden hostility. The room’s once airy, fun atmosphere corroded to uncomfortable silence. Steven didn’t know to apologize or do something.

Why was bringing Mom up bad?

He quietly continued to chop the veggies, hoping for the room to become comfortable again after some time passes.

Slightly, time did seem to ease Steph’s mood. He finally spoke again, and remained calm with Steven as they kept an uneasy conversation. It was the first time he upset Steph, and he was very upset with him, they barely knew each other a day!

The tense air didn’t recover, Steph remained gentle with Steven, taking the onions and bell peppers as he dumped them into the pot as Steven started on the garlic, messily mincing it far into his thoughts.

“It’s not your fault...That’s a rule- okay? We don’t talk about her.”

Steven wanted to desperately ask more. He just couldn’t find the courage to push the issue. “I’m sorry, Steph.”

It was all he could say, the words were trapped in his throat. He just wanted Steph to act like he had before, and he hoped that his apology was enough.

Steph blew some air from his lips, his face returning to his grin. “No problem, Little Bud. How’s the garlic going?”

The meatloaf was easy to make, Steph let him mix the ingredients of meat, veggies, eggs and seasonings in a large bowl before having Steven help shape the log of meat. Once dinner was cooked, Steven squirted the ketchup all over the top when they were ready to eat. Steph got them glass plates and milk to drink.

The two sat down, and Steven tasted his first meatloaf. He wasn’t sure how to feel. “I don’t usually make dinner like that.”

It was true, it wasn’t often Pearl wanted his assistance for cooking. He often sat there by her as she cooked his dinner, or he would do it by himself when she was gone. Dad wasn’t a good chef, often he just brought pizza or ice cream for them to eat. Amethyst was a good cook, she made the weirdest concoction but it was hard to have her remember to make him a helping of whatever before she ate it.

“I know.” Steph brought the fork to his mouth, playing with the tines against his mouth and teeth. Steven cringed, how could he do that without making his mouth hurt?

Steven touched his lips, feeling the phantom ache of his own teeth. He took another bite of the meatloaf, it tasted new, like something he has missed in his life. “So, this is meatloaf.”

“It’s a recipe our grandmom gave me.” He swallows, taking a moment before he laid his elbows on the table’s surface, layering his hands over one another. “Thinking of making meatloaf night every Monday, how’s that sound?”

“The same food every Monday?” Steven scratched at his scalp, as Steph only smiled down at him.

“You eat that together breakfast almost every day.” Steph’s expression was light, but the smile never seemed to reach his eyes.

Steven gasped, “That’s different- together breakfast brings people- together!” He retorted, as Steph held his hands out, in a submissive manner.

“I guess I can’t deny that.” Steph glanced to the meatloaf, sticking his fork in his serving. “How about we make this our together meatloaf?”

“Mmm..” He scratches his chin in a thoughtful manner, crossing his arms as he thought for a moment, before he extended his arms. “Sure! Steph and Steven’s meatloaf.” He took another bite, chewing quiet as Steph stared down at him.

Steven felt small in the man’s sight, the way the man would watch him was indescribable. Blank and drab, he looked like he was looking through Steven, to what Steven is supposed to be.

Steph beamed, finger gunning at Steven with one hand as the other hand rests his face. “Guess you’re gonna have to help me whenever I make it now.”

Conversation was easy now, Steph seemed to know what Steven would say, and Steven could only guess him and his brother were just close in this dimension.

“I guess you and your Steven got your own meatloaf too.” Steven commented without much thought, as Steph shrugs.

“Guess we do.” He patted the boy’s head, going to get a bite of his own food. Steph used one hand to lay the side of his face, keeping his elbow on the table as Steven just had his arms laid across the table. Steph was like a cool older brother Steven had imagined so many times when he was trapped in his thoughts.

What would it be like to have a brother? Would it be like this all the time?

Sometimes, when the gems and him play Steven tag, he would pretend it was just a brother he was fooling around with. A brother to do weird tricks with, pulling pranks, and getting in trouble just like in the sitcoms he would watch.

He used to watch those sitcoms and wish he could be a part of that world.

By the looks of it, it’s what this dimestion’s Steven and Steph have.

Grandparents, school, maybe he has friends his own age other than Connie or Peedee, maybe he had a crazy prom story or had a dog eat his homework.

Steven grabbed at his stomach for a moment, feeling a sinking in his gut. He tensed, before the sensation subpassed. The younger exhaled, grounding himself, but he had lost his appetite. He slid off the chair and grabbed for his white glass plate, taking it to the trash and raking it out, using his fork to get the bits of food off.

Steph watched, his fingers supporting his chin. The sudden discomfort of Steven didn’t go unnoticed, but Steph had fallen into his own thoughts.

When the two were finished, Steph insisted on cleaning the kitchen together. Letting Steven wash the dishes as he dried and put away. The dishes was a small amount, and it didn’t take long. Steven was used to Pearl tidying up the place, but without Pearl actually being here the two had to pick up the slack. The window of the kitchen was blackened now, the sun had gone and night had come.

Steven couldn’t help but notice the shimmer of the gemstone still left on the side table.

“Hey.. Steph.”

“What’s up?”

“She’s been in her gem for a long time.”

“Well, remember how long it took when Pearl was poofed? Not everyone can reform like Amethyst.” Steph puts the glass plates up, as Steven scrubbed the pan that the meatloaf had been cooked in.

Steven only nodded, placing the pan in the rinse water to get the suds off, before laying on the towel beside the sink to allow it to dry before Steph dried it fully and put it away.

When Steph placed the final dish away, Steph cleaned the oven as Steven was tasked with wiping countertops and the table. The kitchen was almost shining in cleanliness, Steph patted Steven’s head. “Alright, Little Bud. You can go ahead and take a shower, it’s almost bedtime.”

“Awhh.. Really?” Steven whined, as Steph only smirked in response.

“That’s right, you better hurry up- when I take my shower I’ll use all the hot water.” Steph’s warning was no bigger than a joke, as Steven walked down the hallway as Steph’s face fell when Steven’s eyes weren’t on him. He returned to the side table, he inspected the gemstone.

Jasper’s gem seemed fine, no cracks or a single imperfection. Just for insurance, he kissed the gem and left it on the couch for her to form on something comfortable, leaving the cabin to his car. Popping the trunk he grabbed his supplies, some of which he hoped he would never need to use.

He heard the water running from the hallway bathroom, so loud he could hear it lingering through the cabin. He paid it little mind, he was happy Steven was doing as he was told. It would make this a lot easier. He hurried to his own bedroom, using the key he had left in his pocket to unlock it.

The last thing he needed was the child to find his way into his room. He was quick to lock the door behind him. The bedroom was more personalized than Steven’s, with random clutter scattered across the room. The bed was king sized, rather than the single he left for Steven.

At the foot of the bed was a large chest, unlocking the chest with the same key he dumped the supplies inside. He kept the security bar out from the chest, locking the rest up in the container to hopefully never use.

He wasn’t sure how good Steven would react to Steph’s plan. He remembered himself being a dumb kid, but Steven kept asking questions.

The last thing he needed was Steven fighting him on this. He knew this was the best thing for the kid. He went to his closet, grabbing himself another outfit. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, the past few weeks he’s been wearing the same outfit; cologne and antiperspirants can only do so much.

He left his room, just as he bolted his bedroom door and left the bar in the corner beside his door for later use. Steph walked out of the hallway, checking for Jasper and not finding her, he pulled the leftover dinner and cling wrap, leaving her a plate wrapped up on the counter of the half-wall. He labeled it with a yellow sticky note as ‘Jasper’.

He didn’t see her eat during their three day training session, but he saw her sleep. It was taking her so long to reform he supposed she might wanna eat, even if she doesn’t need it.

It was a nice offering, at least.

Steven’s shower was short, coming out in a baggy navy blue shirt labeled Empire City 1991 in white lettering and some black pajama shorts. He appeared actually tired now, his hair tangled up in a damp towel as he came into the living room.

Steph decided to take his shower later, not wanting Jasper to meet Steven without him there to control the situation- and there was no way he would chance Jasper reforming with him in the shower while she was in the bathroom.

The small retro television was in the corner of the living room, he used the bulky remote to try and flip through the channels, but there was no cable. He wasn’t surprised, his grandparents were gracious enough to pay for the water and electricity, maybe once everyone was settled, he could find a job to pick up the slack.

He found some VHS’s on the shelf nearby, and let Steven choose an animated children’s movie to finish up their evening together. Steph laid the gem on the end of the couch, as the two sat on the other side of the furniture.

The movie was old, sometime in the 70s or 80s. It was tamed, and something he would expect Greg was forced to watch as a kid in a strict household. Steven was entertained by it, in any means. Steph just leaned on the arm of the couch, allowing Steven to enjoy the movie.

The movie ended quicker than Steph expected, he glanced from his phone to see the credits moving upward on the screen.

“Alright kiddo, let’s head to bed.” Steph stood up, taking Steven’s arm once more. He gave Steven a light nudge towards the hallway as he returned to the kitchen, grabbing a chilled water bottle from the fridge.

“You should go to the bathroom before we go to bed.” Steph warns, as Steven’s eyebrows raise.

“Why?”

“Just, if you gotta go at all. Go ahead.” Steph urged, as a visually confused Steven went to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him as Steph laid the water bottle on the bedside table for Steven. He wondered if Steven would need anything else, he was sure he’d be fine for the night, but he couldn’t stop the pit of worry swirling in his chest.

He glanced in the cabinet of the nightstand, checking the contents before locking it. He was lucky Steven didn’t try and open it the first time he was in the room.

Steven would be fine, he’ll have water and a bathroom break, until the morning where Steph would be up and awake.

The boy came out of the bathroom, Steph guiding him to the bed. “I’ll wake you up tomorrow, I’ll show you around the town. It’s great. We can get you some clothes and we’ll get you started school.”

Steven just nodded, not sure what else to really say. He crawled into the bed, grabbing the star and flopping onto the mattress. “Goodnight, Steph.”

“Night, Bud.” Steph pulled the blanket over the boy, and not feeling comfortable to do much else, he walked to the door, almost closing it before Steven spoke up.

“Can you keep the door cracked, please?” Steven sat up, propped up by his arm. His eyes were pitiful, he felt alone in this place without the gems or his Dad with him. “Just for tonight?”

Steph bit his upper lip, pained by the poor kid’s pleads.

“Sorry, Bud. I gotta close the door.” Steph closed the door as fast as he could, not wanting to see Steven’s reaction before he hurried towards the corner where he had felt the steel bar. He needed to be quick.

He knelt before Steven’s bedroom door, and quickly attached the bar to the knob. He gave it a few test tugs, and to his relief the door wouldn’t budge. He didn’t want Steven roaming around the place when he was asleep or whenever he wasn’t prepared.

As long as Steph kept control on the situation, this would work.

He grabbed a pair of clothes and made his way to the bathroom for a brisk shower. He was lucky Steven hadn't used all the hot water, and he stepped out from the tub feeling a lot fresher than he had going in.

He patted himself dry and slipped on his clothes, taking a deep breath. He felt clean, his clothes were clean, and he was feeling better than he had when he first brought Steven home about all of this. This is gonna work.

Leaving the hallway, he found that not only Jasper had formed, but was slothing on the couch, picking at the meatloaf he had left her with a fork curiously.

“Thank God, I was worried.” Steph let the words slip, signing as another weight came off his shoulders. He knew Jasper had agreed to be his energy source for the device, and the rest of the gems who had been used for energy sources never seemed damaged- the fact that she hadn’t formed had greatly worried Steph. “You took so long to reform.”

“My Diamond!” Jasper nearly flipped the plate over, sitting it on the coffee table and springing up to do the Diamond Symbol, eyes shutting as she evened her breath. “I apologize, my Diamond. The box took most of my energy.”

“Are you feeling alright? Did your gem take any damage?”

“No, My Diamond. I apologize for causing the concern.”

“At ease. I’m just happy you’re okay..” He found his way to the armchair, flopping his weight against it. “I really appreciate you doing that, Jasp.”

Jasper slowly lowered her arms down, holding her fists behind her back. “It was my pleasure, My Diamond.”

“Go ahead and sit down, if you want, you can try the food? Not sure if you’re gonna like it.” He shrugged, pulling his arm over his eyes. “I don’t mind if you don’t like it.” He leaned back, letting his muscles go slack under his skin.

“Thank you, My Diamond.” She sat down once he wasn’t looking at her, leaning an arm over the back of the sofa as she resumed picking at the leftovers. “How did the retrievement mission go?”

“It was fine, really. He just.” He groans. “He asks a lot of questions. I remember being a dumb kid. I panicked.” He rubbed his hands over the skin of his face, leaning forward in the chair, his arms pressed to his legs as he hid his face away.

“I told him I was his brother from a different dimension, I just- I didn’t know if he’d believe me if I said I was him in the future. He thinks my name’s Steph.”

“Gonna guess he doesn’t got a clue about the whole future mentor thing.” Jasper began, before stiffening. “My Diamond.” She quickly added, making the older Steven huff through his nose.

“No- no. He doesn’t.” Steven sat up, and for the first time in the two months he had spent alongside Jasper, his pink glow was dimming without his doing. “I just want him to have what I couldn’t.” The teen rubs his arms, quiet for a moment.

“He thinks it’s just gonna be a few months.” He blurted out, taking a deep breath once it left his lips.

“I thought we were keeping him until he’s… your size, My Diamond.”

“We are. When he’s old enough to deal with the bullshit we’ll send him back- just like that.” Steven held his slightly curled hands out, as if he was holding his plan in his digits. He ran a hand over his hair once more. “I told him once he got his powers. It took me years, I just, we’ll just ease him into the idea.”

“Of course, My Diamond.”

“He’ll love it out here. It’ll be just what he needs.” He held his face in his hands, murmuring over and over as he tried to cool his nerves. He almost lost it on the kid today in the kitchen, he’s just thirteen. Of course the kid is going to still idolize his mom, he doesn’t know she’s a piece of shit.

He gripped the flesh of his cheeks, forcing himself to calm down. He couldn’t afford to destroy this cabin because of his emotions- his grandparents welcomed him with open arms, but if he’s breaking their property while they let him live out here to ‘raise his half brother’ they’ll have a big problem.

He wouldn’t blame them.

“You always seemed happy, My Diamond. I’m sure if you put him in a hole he’ll find something to sing about..” Jasper blinked. “-My Diamond.”

“Thanks..” He forced himself to stand on his feet. “I’m gonna head to bed. Do whatever you want, you’re off duty.” He started towards his bedroom, and stopped just before the corridor. “If you’re going to destroy the ecosystem- do it on one side of the yard. I want him to have grass to play in.”

“... Of course, My Diamond.” The voice was full of malaise, and he knew the fact she had to be around organic Earth would irritate her. He just wanted Steven to have a half normal childhood here, and having a dead bare land around him wouldn’t help.

When he passed the younger’s room. He halted himself, pressing his ear to the door to assure Steven was still doing well.

He heard nothing.

He untensed knowing Steven was doing fine, walking back to his room and shutting his door, relocking it. He crawled onto his bed, pulling out the cabinet drawer of his night table and snatching the baby monitor. He pushed the drawer closed with the back of his hand and pulled the piece of technology closer to him.

He could only hear soft breathing, bringing peace to his mind as he knew Steven didn’t realize on his first night he was trapped.

With a heavy body, he finally closed his eyes, allowing sleep to overtake him.

#Steven Universe Fanfic #Steven Universe Fanfiction #Steven Universe Future #Stevencest #Steven Universe Future Fanfic #Steven Universe Future Fanfiction #Fanfic #Fanfiction #SU fanfiction #SUF fanfiction #SU fanfic #Steven Universe #Steven Universe/Steven Universe #Kintsugi of the Heart

28 notes · View notes

kerfufflewatch · 5 years

Note

Candy/ pastries or your pain is mine

everyone asked for candy/pastries, and I wrote way too much, and I’m pretending that’s because everyone asked for it and not because I have no self-control

[on AO3]

"Kinda surprised you like sweet stuff that much," McCree remarks.

Hanzo only gives him the barest of glances before returning his attention to the doughnut box on the counter. McCree had found a proper doughnut shop while they were here in the States--one of those local places that was big enough to be noteworthy but small enough to still have product worth talking about--and brought back a solid half-dozen to the safehouse. It was, admittedly, entirely too much sugar even for two grown men, but it'd been a long and frankly boring mission and he thought they deserved something.

After a moment's deliberation, Hanzo liberates the box of its blueberry cake doughnut and sets it on a napkin that is already dusted with crumbs and flakes of glaze. "And why is that?" he asks as he sets to pouring a cup of coffee.

"Dunno. You're so fit. Figured you were one of those guys who counted every calorie and eats their body weight in protein every day."

Hanzo snorts softly at that. "The fact that I put some thought into my meal composition, unlike some people, does not make me obsessed."

"Mmhm."

Hanzo shoots him a glare that is more amused than annoyed, then returns to his coffee. "You are not too far off, I suppose," he says, slowly pouring milk into his cup until it reaches the precise color he deems acceptable. "When I was younger, I did maintain a much stricter diet--it was considered childish to indulge in something with no health benefits. After, it simply became one of those things that I did not need and did not permit myself."

"And now?"

"Now I have learned that denying myself cake will not restore my honor." His coffee spoon clinks sharply against the countertop.

"Nah. Not unless it was a real good cake." Hanzo laughs a little and, as always, it makes McCree's heart flutter and his mouth incapable of shutting up just in case he can get Hanzo to do it again. "What's your favorite, then?"

Hanzo has to think on that for a moment. Then he answers, "Taiyaki, I think. Although to be fair, I think it is mostly whatever I am in the mood for."

McCree hides his smile in his coffee cup. He really is too far gone to be helped. "Fair enough."

"What about you?"

McCree shrugs. "Never had that much of a sweet tooth, to be honest. I mean, yeah, here and there," he adds, gesturing vaguely at the doughnut box, "but . . . I guess I'd never turn down a slice of apple pie, though."

The corner of Hanzo's mouth lifts in something that might be amusement, though McCree's not sure why. "Really."

"Used to drive my mamá mad. She must've disowned me six or seven times for it, back in the day. Why not her flan, or sopapillas, or something else she had a family recipe for." McCree chuckles at the old memory, his mother sighing and putting her flour-dusted hands on her hips as her son continued to betray their proud Mexican heritage. "But yeah. That's the favorite, I think."

Hanzo laughs softly. "A troublemaker at every turn."

"That's me." McCree brushes past Hanzo to pour himself another cup of coffee. Going by the files Winston sent this morning, it’s looking like it might be a half-pot kind of day. “Gotta say, though, damn hard to find any decent apple pie out where we’re stationed. They got stuff like it around, I guess, but none of it’s quite right. Think the last time I had any was . . .”

He trails off. He’d been about to say it was probably the better part of a year and a half, but come to think of it, it’s probably been about a year. It wasn’t much, but he remembers now: serving himself a cup of burnt diner coffee and a slice of pie from the display case, sitting in a cracked vinyl seat with the best view of the railroad over the gorge, getting one bite in before having to abandon it. He’d barely appreciated it at the time with his attention focused elsewhere, but the taste of tart apple and sweet cinnamon had lingered on his tongue through the hell that followed, mixed with gunpowder and dust.

“McCree?”

McCree blinks out of his reverie. His sugar spoon still hovers over his coffee, teetering and threatening to spill. He hastily dumps the sugar and gives it a stir. “Sorry. Got a little distracted there,” he says, putting on an easy smile. “Was a bit of a rough day last time, is all.”

Hanzo seems unconvinced, but he knows when to let things drop. It’s one of the many things McCree appreciates about him.

They lapse into a companionable quiet. Hanzo breaks off a small piece of the doughnut and pops it into his mouth. He absentmindedly sucks a crumb off the pad of his thumb, and McCree forgets all about pointing out that he'd actually bought that particular doughnut for himself.

—

They're both sent back to the States again within the month, but on separate, minor missions. Hanzo goes off with his brother and Angela. McCree tries not to think about how irritable that makes him.

McCree's sent out on a solo mission for three weeks, investigating a business out in Canada Winston worries might have some Talon ties. It looks and acts like a standard accounting firm, and three weeks of running coffee and organizing files doesn’t give McCree any reason to believe otherwise. The tedium slowly grates on his nerves, and being treated like a witless errand boy does so more quickly, until he’s certain that he has none left carrying him through.

The whole thing is made worse by having to maintain radio silence the entire three weeks. He wasn't necessarily the sort to enjoy long text conversations or phone calls, but he could always count on a wry response from Angela or Genji if he sent them updates or complaints, and Lena and Mei sometimes just liked to check in. He gets none of this, though, and it leaves him far too much time to think.

And of course, because his heart's a goddamn fool, he finds himself missing Hanzo the most.

For a while, as one does once a crush starts to become a little bit desperate, McCree entertains the notion of telling Hanzo in a variety of ways. With how long they've known each other, just asking for a date seems too distant. Grand gestures are something, but anything too grand would just leave Hanzo embarrassed and irritable regardless of how he felt in return. He doesn't know when Hanzo's birthday is and asking Genji would mean any surprise would be ruined.

At some point, he remembers the conversation with Hanzo during their last mission, and he thinks for far too long about gifting Hanzo with some sort of sweet thing. Cakes and candies were romantic, weren't they? Except something generic would go over about as well as a snowball taking a lovely vacation in Hell, and Hanzo deserves better than some dime-a-dozen chocolates.

He dithers and sighs and eventually forgets about the whole thing after a week or so, and the conversation shortly thereafter. The whole idea is a fool's errand, anyway--it all assumes that Hanzo would want him at all.

Just before he can drive himself mad with hypotheticals, he digs up a handwritten set of budgets in someone's locked office desk that, even coded and vague, implicate the business in some illicit dealings quite nicely. He activates the little automatic drone that helpfully scans and uploads all of the pages straight to Athena and Winston, neatly replaces everything, and slips out of the city the moment he is given the all-clear.

By the time he gets back to Gibraltar, the combination of a shitty mission and an equally shitty flight has him too exhausted and irritable. He checks in with Winston, drags himself through the shower, and flops onto his bed. He’s too antsy for sleep, but he can at least use a few minutes with his eyes closed before he has to dodge the rest of the team to find food.

He only gets a couple of minutes before there is a knock on his door. He sighs up at the ceiling. “Just a sec.”

His irritation all but evaporates when he opens the door to find Hanzo on the other side. He has a paper bag in one arm, wafting the rich scent of food, and a bottle of whiskey in the other.

"Well damn," McCree says. "Rollin' out a hero's welcome."

Hanzo rolls his eyes, even as he smiles. "Hello to you, as well. I thought you might like to celebrate your success, but if not . . ."

McCree snorts. "Success. Yeah. We'll call it that."

His tone makes Hanzo's smile immediately drop in a way that makes McCree's stomach do the same.

"Was I mistaken?" Hanzo asks. "The mission brief suggested you were successful, but . . ."

McCree groans, rubbing his hands down his face. “No, you weren't. Sorry, Han," he says wearily. "Was just a long, frustrating sort of job. Bunch of annoying assholes, then me doing a whole lot of nothin’ to prove that they’re assholes. Got me in a bit of a mood, y’know?”

“Oh. I am sorry. Perhaps I should have considered--would you like me to go?”

His expression of mild concern might have fooled anyone else, but McCree knows better nowadays, and he sees the flash of disappointment as it crosses his face. "No, 'course not," he says. "Just warnin' you I might not be the best company."

Hanzo nods, but his brow is still pinched with uncertainty. McCree reaches to take the bag. "Got a couple glasses if you wanna pour us a drink," he says, nodding to the pair he keeps on his desk just for this purpose.

"I--yes."

McCree pauses as he lifts the first box out of the bag. "Seriously, what's buggin' you?"

"It is nothing."

It's clearly not nothing, but no amount of prying will get Hanzo to talk if he doesn't want to. He unpacks both their meals, but pauses when he finds a third box at the bottom of the bag. This one is smaller and clearly from a different place entirely.

He looks questioningly at Hanzo, but he is pointedly not watching McCree, pretending to need his entire focus to pour their drinks. McCree opens the box.

What he finds is an apple pie. A full one, untouched, with the slightly uneven look to the crust that comes from something handmade. He looks to Hanzo again, his mouth running dry.

"Why . . . ?" he starts, and finds himself unable to finish the question.

Hanzo sits on the edge of the bed and shrugs one shoulder, now very interested in the contents of his glass. "We ended up getting dinner the last night of our mission," he says, too casually. "One of their specialties was apparently their pies, and I remembered what you had said before."

Forgetting dinner entirely, McCree grabs one of the forks from the bag and carves out a piece of the pie right from the center. Hanzo mutters "That is barbaric," but is ignored.

It's good, definitely one of the better apple pies he's had--tart apples and sweet cinnamon, perfectly flaky crust that just about melts on the tongue. But it's the full realization of what Hanzo's done--not only remembering some inane conversation from weeks ago, but going out of his way to bring back a gift--that has him struggling to speak.

"Thank you, Hanzo" McCree says when he finally has his voice again. "This is real nice of you." Hanzo gives him a halfhearted smile. "Is this what's been eatin' at you this whole time?"

Hanzo purses his lips and runs his fingertip around the rim of his glass, which is now conspicuously empty. It is a long moment before he answers. "I had hoped to--to have a rather different conversation, but now I believe it might be better saved for another time, if you are not feeling well. It is no matter."

McCree's heart feels full to bursting. He sets aside the box and sits beside Hanzo on the bed. He knocks his hand lightly against Hanzo's and leaves it there, fingers resting in the valleys of Hanzo's knuckles. "Dunno," he says. "Seems like it might be somethin' worth talking about to me."

Realization dawns on Hanzo's face slowly. When he finally meets McCree's eye again, it's with a shy, sweet smile.

Much later, after confessions and dinner and a few self-conscious laughs are shared, McCree offers to split the rather large piece of pie with Hanzo. It's good, and he ends up eating most of it, but finds it tastes better off Hanzo's lips.

#Kerfuffle Fic #scenario prompts #Overwatch #McHanzo #Anonymous

211 notes · View notes

fightevilandthengetblownup · 3 years

Text

FIC: With Wax Melted III

---

The table was somehow not crowded at all as the sound of cutlery scraping, requests for platters to be passed and the quiet background music filled the kitchen. It had been a while longer before Jo announced dinner was prepared and she’d gently coaxed the group into moving. Grey was almost certain she’d made the table bigger somehow but that was a thought for later, when he wasn’t having to negotiate exactly how to fit everything on a plate together.

“Hun,” Jo murmured as she leaned over his shoulder to take the bowl filled with the home made pasta dressed in the pesto and fresh rocket leaves and dish out a small pile onto his plate. About half the size he had been trying to negotiate onto the plate. “You realize the bonus of family-style is that you can take seconds, right?”

“Oh, true.” Grey let out a quiet laugh as he sat back in his seat. His plate could be filled again if he wanted it to, and as he took a forkful of the zesty pasta and enjoyed the slight lemony finish, he knew he’d be taking a second helping of pasta if not everything. “This is so good, Jo.”

He wasn’t kidding though - the taste was just right with the pesto he’d been talked through tasted like a truly basil bliss. The lemon offset it perfectly and the pasta itself was al dente and Grey was going to never get over how quickly and efficiently Jo had whipped up the fresh dish. The yellow strands were beautiful and were delicate in a way he’d never attempted to make of his own nor were they as thick or too perfectly made as the store bought where it lacked the rustic and obvious care and love that these ones did. It was perfect.

“Of course it is, you helped.” The blonde chided him back, tapping the back of his head with the handle of the serving spoon before she rounded the table to help the other blonde in the house sort out her meal. “Hey, lemme help, Ombre!”

“You helped make the meal?” The question came from Grey’s right, and the curious look on the elder’s face was veiled slightly more than the curiosity in his tone. Amon glanced between his plate and the shadow before giving a slight nod. “It’s very well made.”

“Oh, well, I helped. Jo did a lot of it.” “Really?” “She’s definitely under playing how much is her work-”

“Multitalented, hmm?” Amon turned from looking towards Grey down towards the other end of the table where the two blondes were talking and Jo was dishing up not only the pasta but encouraging the younger girl to try a little of both the vegetarian and meat options - “If you haven’t tried meat, you should and see how you feel, Ombre” - before he turned back towards the man beside him. “I have to stop underestimating her, perhaps.”

“Don’t do that,” Grey grinned a little, taking the plate of caperese salad that Harry handed him to add a few of the fresh tomatoes onto his plate. “She likes being underestimated.”

“Yeah, and she also likes shooting you in the back when she gets the chance.” The researcher piped up as he let out a laugh of his own, tucking into the crumbed beef parmesan that had both the gooey cheese layered on top and the thick tomato sauce Grey’d made layered between the still crisp beef schnitzels. Jo must have only heated that through enough to brown the cheese under the griddle so that the crumb wouldn’t get soggy, and if the eggplant version wasn’t so delicious, Grey’d be tempted to give it a try himself. The sauce had been thick when he’d last seen it, and he almost had thought when he left it it had been a little chunky still - but the sauce that filled the layers between the umami-rich eggplant slices was instead thick in a silky way with no graininess. The béchamel white sauce and golden brown cheese on top had the right level of gooeyness to it, pulling in a long string of golden deliciousness with each slice. That Jo’d made both options was going down well, as both Grey and Shada appreciated the meat-free alternative and Harry and Ombre both had a bit of each on their plates, while Amon had been advised with a sly look from Jo she’d made sure to make their beef version a little bigger. Harry grinned around his mouthful before adding. “I mean, it’s good when she’s on your team but sucks when you play for the opposition.”

“I’ve seen that being on her bad side is not a good idea.” The slightly deeper tone in Amon’s voice piqued Grey’s interest before he found himself blushing to realize exactly how true that was, and the veiled intent behind the man’s words. That was something they couldn’t see eye to eye about, but Grey found himself appreciating that the other had put that aside, as usual, on his behalf. There was a pause before the older man asked carefully, the cool tone disappearing from his words. “But what do you mean by team?”

Grey half listened in as Harry appeared to go onto one of his famous, disjointed stories explaining the whole concept of first-person-shooters and gaming; eyes darting on occasion to see that Amon seemed to have known exactly what he was doing getting the other distracted and babbling away. It took the pressure off both Grey and Amon to do more than nod or mumble encouragingly while getting to enjoy their meal, and Grey did always find Harry’s passion for their shared hobby to be fun to experience second hand.

As he chewed on a piece of his garlic breadstick (which was somehow pillowy and held a sweet nuttiness from the browned garlic, and he almost felt proud at his contribution to this part of the dinner at how well the garlic and herbs had been balanced), Grey turned his attention past the two other men down to the other end of the table where Jo had finally sat down and was now caught between his two sisters talking about some shopping trip they hoped to do. It was fast paced, and Grey watched on as Jo’s eyes darted back and forth between both other women like a tennis match trying to follow the flow of conversation and getting horribly lost. After a few moments of observing, the blonde finally seemed to notice his observation - brown eyes fixing onto his instead for a moment before he could see her cheeks turning bright red around a bite of her dinner at being caught and the wink Grey delivered her. Jo quickly swallowed her mouthful and jumped right into the middle of the conversation, a tiny twitch to her lips letting Grey know it was just as amusing to her.

“Brother?” “Hmm?”

“Can you please tell Cupcake that I will entirely behave myself this year for Christmas. Please?” Shada’s voice singsonged across the table as she had spotted his watching the three women’s conversation. “I won’t even try to sit in Dean’s lap if he forgets to ask me to.”

“Oh like I believe that, Shada.” Grey chuckled, shaking his head at the other. “Anyway, if we’re having Jo’s family for Christmas then-”

“Then we get to come too, right?” Ombre chirped up happily, tossing her hair in a hilarious mimic of her older sister. “Oui?”

Grey shook his head for a moment and found himself sighing deeply as Jo chimed up with that teasing look on her face. “Oh, I don’t know. I’m not sure we’re doin’ anthin’ for Christmas. At least, not with anyone else.” The eyelash batting from the blonde did nothing to stop the embarrassed groan that got from him. “Just kiddin’, but I really don’t know if everyone will be around this year.”

“Perhaps we’ll have a relaxed one this year.” Grey added, shrugging a shoulder at the deflated looks he was receiving from both sisters. It was still a month away, they could work something out closer and perhaps they’d be distracted or busy anyway. The approving look he was receiving from the man beside him helped a little, as did the way Harry quickly jumped in to explain his plans for the holiday season and changed the topic along with it.

Dinner flowed well though, and Grey found himself in awe at just how comfortable it felt for him to be sat there surrounded by the group that had assembled. Even Amon was convivial and Grey had watched eyes wide when Ombre had tried to convince the demon to ‘do the pretty eye trick’ only to have her distracted by Jo’s suggesting they go feed Nana her dinner since they’d finished early. The look of relief on the demon’s face though at nobody else daring to use the phrasing or to bring it up was priceless though, and a gift of itself to Grey. That it was comfortable for three monsters, a demon, a hunter and a hunting researcher to be sharing bread - quite literally when Harry and Shada squabbled over the last roll before Jo offered half of hers to the loser, Harry - and it feel like a regular family occasion felt both surreal and perfectly normal for Grey. Normal was whatever his life with Jo was shaping up to be after all, it was normal for the sun to rise in the east and for his world to warp itself to neatly match with her rising times that perhaps it should feel equally normal for her world to wrap and bend itself to match his.

---

When the idea of dessert had been brought up originally, with everyone splayed around the lounge room in different levels of satiated from the amazing meal already served, there had been a round of denials and claims that another mouthful would make them explode. Jo had tutted quietly behind her teeth and suggested she’d just bring in a little something in case anyone got pekish - and with the arrival of the large serving platter covered in delectables, those denials got far far quieter.

There were the small pastries from earlier of the salted caramel tartlets that were so perfectly sweet but bitter with the mix of salt and dark chocolate cutting through the sugary sweetness of the rich, buttery caramel, lemon meringue pies that had even been decorated with small pearls of ruby red pomegranate seeds that added to the sweet tartness of the cirtrus bites and meringue kisses which had swirls of colors both blue and yellow throughout to make small flowers of sugary whiteness that Grey had seen crafted beautifully, and that tasted like heaven the moment he tried any of them. There was fresh fruit with strawberries and blueberries and delicate mandarins sitting beside lovingly prepared slices of plums and pears, with halved figs that appeared to be drizzled with honey sat proudly next to walnuts, and almonds, and grapes. There was a small pot of what looked to be whipped, sweetened ricotta for dipping right beside another bowl of melted chocolate also awaiting the dip of a delicious morsel. There were cut up pieces of waffle and tiny doughnut balls sitting and waiting for their time to be enjoyed, and finally what looked to be a few shards of very quality chocolate decorated throughout. The whole platter was as vibrant and inviting as breakfast and dinner had been, and while Jo disappeared back into the kitchen in search of drinks, Grey was surprised that everyone held back enough for her to get out the door before the first few pieces picked and enjoyed.

“Ah ha!” Jo cried proudly as she came back in, a tray held in one hand that held the drinks for the group like the seasoned bartender she was. She pointed a finger around at everyone, not missing at all the sticking fingers or the half eaten evidence of their snacking already. “I told you you’d all find room, didn’t I?”

“It isn’t our fault,” Harry was the first one to speak up, licking the cinnamon sugar from his doughnut ball from his fingers before grabbing one of the serviettes that Jo’d left out. “You made it look all pretty. And I, for one, know what it’s like to miss out on your baking. So I clearly had to eat something.”

“Oh clearly.” The sarcasm rolled off Jo’s tongue quickly but it was obvious she was as amused as everyone else as she handed the researcher a milky looking glass with his Bailey’s and milk. “What are the rest of your excuses?”

“I never claimed I was full!” Ombre chirped up from where she’d opted to sit on the floor between the coffee table and television facing everyone. She had floofed her skirts out and was extremely excited that Nana had come downstairs during dinner and was laying on the rug nearby her. Grey’d watched the cautious look the dog gave the newcomer and was so proud to see how little reaction she had given other than an uncertain tail flip. “Besides, the tartlets are si doux - so so cute! I must try!”

Shada leaned forward from her spot on the couch beside Harry’s armchair with a small smirk all her own as she popped a grape into her mouth. “Can’t let it go to waste when you’ve put so much work in, Jo.” The smile Grey caught from her slowly shifted as if an idea had crossed her mind and he felt himself shaking his head right as the brunette added, “Surprised there aren’t any cupcakes, Cupcake.”

“Made them the last few times, and I had pastry on hand.” “Oh? So bought then?” “Nah, just made a pumpkin pie last week and made a double batch.”

The cups of tea were sat down quickly in front of the two other women from her tray as Jo shrugged a shoulder, before she moved around to the large armchair that the eldest in the room had taken up. Grey had happily suggested that his friend have the comfortable armchair nearest the spot on the couch that he’d taken for himself beside his sister, and watching as Jo handed off the glass, Grey had been amused at how accommodated for the demon had been. As well as everyone else. There’d been Guinness available as well as the regular beer line ups Jo kept about for hunters and herself, there had been a bottle of Baileys cooling in the fridge to make Harry a creamy after-dinner-drink, there had even been some specifically chosen Irish whiskey and liqueur that was what filled the glass that Amon was swirling carefully with a considered look. Grey couldn’t help the rush of warmth he felt realizing how much Jo’d taken everyone’s preferences in mind with even the dessert platter and the bourbon and coke she slipped into his hand; his sunshine making sure that everyone felt the same amount of warmth and hospitality throughout the whole night.

“And you, hunny, what’s your excuse?” Jo caught his attention from his musing with a wide smile as she perched herself on the arm rest beside him. Grey blinked uncertain what she was asking for a long moment, before she took pity on him. “You said you were full, and I come back in to see you dippin’ three waffle bites into the fondue.”

“Well, you know me. I fondue.” “Do you? Fondue?” “Sometimes.”

“Oh stop flirting you two.” Harry chuckled, breaking the joke as Grey tugged on the end of Jo’s hair playfully before turning back towards his friend. “Didn’t you spend enough time doing it today, huh?”

Grey found himself shaking his head as he laughed and tried to fight the blush from making itself known on his cheeks. “Hey, there’s company around, Harry. Besides, we were busy with preparing dinner all day.”

“Oh, totally,” Jo gushed on top, and Grey saw her shifting to sit on the rug between his end of the couch and Amon’s armchair with the same bright red threatening her cheeks. “We were slavin’ over a hot stove all day, ain’t nobody had time for anythin’ else.”

“I find that hard to believe.” The growled comment from the other end caught everyone’s attention before the blush came rushing up full force as Grey caught the knowing look in the other man’s eye. Amon’s brow jerked up for a moment in a way that was so familiar to the expressions possible from him usually, and Grey felt himself letting out an awkward but amused laugh at recognizing exactly that look. “Though I do hope you had an enjoyable day, Grey.”

“Thanks, Amon.” Grey murmured the response out as he scratched at the back of his neck and tried to fight the blush down. It wasn’t hard to appreciate the at least jump from Harry’s teasing, but it didn’t escape him that the same was still happening.

He was saved from trying to work out how to change the topic as he watched in almost sickeningly slow motion as Jo’s hand moved from popping a meringue in her mouth to hitting out at the demon’s calf. “Oh, don’t you start teasin’ him too.” Jo chided around the mouthful of sweets, and tossed her head back to pin the other with a look. “He’s been very busy day - we took Nana for a walk down by the lake to chase the ducks and got lunch out. Ain’t nobody got time for much else when the pup wants somethin’ - as you know very well.”

“Ah yes, you did seem to raise a very demanding pup.” “She is a goddamn princess - she can be demandin’ as she wants.” “That says so very much.”

“Why thank you.” The glowing smile that was directed up towards the other from the blonde made Grey laugh at how carefree it was before Jo’s look transformed into a smirk and she crawled around the edge of the coffee table to sit next to the pup in question and give the slowly wagging dog a large amount of happy pets alongside the other blonde. “You’re such a good girl aren’t you. Don’t listen to grump ol’ Amon, he forgets what it’s like to be young like us.” The cooing was as gentle but clearly loud enough for everyone to hear and get a good laugh out before Jo and Ombre disolved into a quiet conversation over the dog.

Grey leaned forward to rest a hand over his friend’s forearm though, the corner of his lips twitching into an uncertain smile. “Jo just spoils her, I guess.”

“You might have to watch out for that one day. Unfortunately if you let your... pup make too many calls early on, you’ll have trouble helping them make good choices later.” Amon’s words sounded more bemused than annoyed, and the slight worry that Jo’s teasing might cause a problem disappeared at catching the other man’s eye as he took a sip of his drink thoughtfully. “Though perhaps you too will luck out.”

Grey swallowed a sip of his own drink trying to loosen his throat as he smiled across at the other, before his attention was grabbed by Shada demanding he explain some movie plot line Harry was talking about but couldn’t remember the name of the film for. That took almost everyone to work out that the researcher had completely mixed the plot lines of Venom and Upgrade which turned into an argument on which was better, and then why posession is so over used in Hollywood and before Grey knew it, Ombre was shouting loudly while Harry was teasing her about living out the intention of the Lazarus Effect, and everyone was laughing in their own way at the ridiculousness before diverting into just how wrong movies are about practically everything which lasted late into the evening.

---

“Thanks again for coming, Harry,” Grey said as he pulled the other man in for a quick hug and back pat before they stepped apart. Harry was smiling wide and Grey met it equally pleased as he’d accompanied the other to the door. It had gotten very late, and Grey hadn’t even known where the time had gone. “We’re catching up Sunday for brunch?”

“Yeah, man. There’s a burger joint down the refurbished docks I wanted to check out.” “Burgers sounds good. They got outdoor seating?” “Totally. You can probably walk Nana down and then we can actually have beers.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Grey nodded repeatedly and wasn’t surprised to be pulled in for another quick hug from the other before Harry made his way down the steps and towards the van parked out front. It always felt good to catch up with the other, and getting to find somewhere new to enjoy in town would be good for both of them. “See you!” He called out a little quieter than needed as he waved a hand after the other.

“We’re headed off too,” Shada said, getting a jump out of Grey when she and Ombre appeared to pop up behind him without his having noticed. The cheeky grin at catching him off guard was printed across both women’s faces as they moved in to hug him in conjunction. “Tell Jo we’ll be around to get her next week for shopping-”

“If she doesn’t have a, uh, for her it’s called a hunt right? Not a job?” “That’s right, Ombre.” “Ah, droite! I got it right!”

“I’ll make sure to remind her, but what do you mean tell her?” Grey smiled widely at both his sister’s as he pulled them both in after a moment for a hug each. Ombre swished her skirts as she shrugged a shoulder and waved a hand at the other to talk when Grey and Shada finally pulled back from their tighter hug. “Sis?”

“Your gal tired herself out. Again.” Shada replied with a smirk, dark eyes glittering with amusement as she jerked her head back towards the lounge. “You left for all of two seconds with Harry, and she did a repeat of last year.”

“Huh?” Grey frowned in confusion for a second before he shook his head and couldn’t help the impulse but to get a third quick hug from each of his sisters instead. When Ombre wiggled in against his side, an amusing feat given not only her height but her chunky heeled shoes, Grey finally held his hands up in surrender. “Alright, alright, you two stay safe and have a good night, yeah?”

“Totally. It’s just in time for breakfast croissants in Paris after all,” The brunette said cheekily as she ushered the youngest out the front door, sharing a roll of the eyes with their brother as Ombre let out an excited squeal at the idea. “I do hope you’ve have a good day, brother.”

“With you guys, and Amon, and Harry, and Jo?” Grey said gently as he held onto the door and saw the blonde dash off down the steps excitedly before he caught his sister’s eye again. “How could I not?”

There was a pause as the dark haired woman seemed to pin him for a second, as if trying to discern if there was something she had missed, before the smile on her lips grew wider and almost as bright as his favorite kind of smiles. “Oh good. We’ll be around soon, Grey. I love you.”

“Love you too, Shada.” Grey couldn’t help the impulse then to quickly tug her into another hug, bringing a loud laugh out of the other at the tight squeeze, before they both finally pulled back and gave a gentle wave as Grey shut the door and Shada ran off after their younger sister.

He had completely forgotten Shada’s confusing commentary until he made his way into the lounge and had to bite back the laugh at spotting Jo’s head dropped where she was leaning against the side of the armchair, seemingly fast asleep, with their dog’s head laid equally asleep over her lap. In the chair, Amon was seated but seemed to be completely ignoring the dozing pair as he simply held his glass, staring at it considering.

“Oh no,” Grey finally managed to get some words out without laughing as he moved around the back of the couch towards the small group. Nana’s head slowly lifted, showing she had been merely dozing and her tail began to thump softly and sleepily against the floor. “Sorry that I left you with the boring pair, Amon.”

“It’s fine, Grey. I am sure that you’ve had a very eventful day, and she was-” There was a pause as the other appeared to pull his attention out of the slowly melting ice in his glass to look between Grey’s face and where the hunter was clearly fast asleep. Amon appeared to take a moment to select his words, brows creased slightly as the words took time to come to him. “-clearly very attentive and stressed this evening.”

“Stressed?” “Perhaps not, but she was far less relaxed than your usual evenings.”

“Oh.” He found himself nodding as he moved closer to sit back into his spot on the couch, eyes not once moving from looking towards the dozing blonde. She did seem to have deeper bags under her eyes than usual that evening, and Grey had noticed she had had a relatively small dinner - more on her feet fetching this or that for others, or focused on adding to conversation and including everyone than on her own meal - and hadn’t even finished her whiskey and coke given it was almost entirely full in it’s spot on the coffee table, water floating atop where the ice cubes had melted. “Well, she... Jo does like to be a good hostess I guess.”

Amon quirked a brow up as he took a long sip of his drink, and Grey found his eyes darting from Jo’s face up to the other’s knowing look but unable to meet it for long. “She cares about you, boy. At least in that she has improved.” Amon growled the words out quietly as he swirled the last of his drink in his glass. “If she did not care for making you happy, do you think she’d have made the effort it takes to include myself?”

Grey couldn’t help the warmth that spread to him thinking about that. The other was very correct in that his very presence, sitting as he was in the form he was in the space he was, was something that required time and thought. And on top of that, coming from the blonde hunter, something extra to make that choice and trust - let alone the extra care to accommodate the other’s tastes for dinner and drinks. The amount of effort in that alone blew him away without even taking in that, as was slowly becoming tradition, she had trusted Grey’s trust in the demon enough to lower her guard such that she’d dozed off again in his presence. He shook his head sharply to try to stop the prickling feeling he felt in his eyes at looking at the image before him that tugged at something sharply inside.

“Well, I’m very lucky then.” He finally found the words himself, the depth of meaning only barely scratching the surface as he finally looked up to catch the other’s eye. Shrugging a shoulder as he finished his own drink, Grey sank back, boneless, into the couch with a sigh. “I.. I really have to say thank you, not just to her, but you too Amon. This was... a fantastic surprise. I really, really have to thank you for coming.”

“No need, boy.” The demon said carefully as he lifted his drink to his lips and finished the last of it with a worn sigh - the honey-infused whiskey the traditional post-dinner drink but one less common on this side of the pond - before he slowly pushed himself to his feet careful not to disrupt the sleeping hunter even as the dog got to her feet with a wag of her tail. Amon let out a quiet, warning growl as the dog moved to step onto Jo to jump at him and held the pup’s eye until Nana sank back down into a sit. “It was a pleasant evening. Far different than the last few times I had taken such a form up here, at least.”

Grey tilted his head to look up at the other as he set his empty glass down on one of the coasters on the coffee table. “Oh?”

“Definitely. However, I do find this a lot more restrictive so I will be heading off.” “Oh. Yeah, let me walk you out.” “Of course.”

The pair both slowly moved out of the lounge quietly, and Grey was not surprised to see Nana shuffle along quietly behind them as intrigued as she was by seeing the wolfish friend as he was that evening. He gave a gesture towards the stairs towards the dog as they reached the hall, and was pleased to see that with only minimal bouncing and weaving between his and Amon’s legs that Nana headed off to her bed without a fuss.

“Don’t forget to repaint those traps before bed tonight, Grey.” The taller man said quietly as he moved through to the threshold, looking up at the ceiling carefully. “Most was left in tact so it simply requires a touch up on the scratched areas.”

“Thanks, I’ll get to it right away.” Grey nodded as he glanced up and could thankfully see clearly even in the dim lighting the exact spot that needed repainting, before he moved forward to wrap a tight hug around the other for a moment. It was somehow strange to do this when it was a hard, human chest he had his face pressed against rather than thick, black fur, but it was as comforting and felt almost as natural before he pulled back with a smile at the same on the other man’s face. “Thanks again. For... For everything, Amon. I hope you know the importance you have, especially today of all days.”

There was a pause before the other man gave a nod, his eyes veiled but obviously aware of the significance despite the time since. Grey wasn’t sure if it was because he remembered specifically dragging him almost kicking and screaming from under that burnt out wreckage or not, but even if he didn’t - Grey was glad to acknowledge it to the other. That as much as Jo had given him on that day, she hadn’t been the only one nor was she the one that had been there with him the longest in that darkness. She was the sunshine that broke through the rain, but the demon shrugging a shoulder before him had been the rock that he’d clung to to avoid being washed away. At the thought, Grey quickly jerked forward to deliver another, brief but tight hug, before he pulled back.

“Again, thanks.” Grey smiled widely as he got a firm nod from the other, before Amon turned and began to step off the stairs, following the same rules to get away from the house before disappearing as Grey closed the door.

The rug was quick to replace, and as Grey turned about he moved as quickly as possible to replace and protect the house again before he headed back into the loungeroom. Jo was right where he’d left her, slumped up against the armchair and still fast asleep, her hand curled softly around where Nana’s paw had been.

He moved quietly over, and sank down to a knee beside her. “Jo, pretty one, wake up.” Grey gently shook her shoulder, softer than he probably need to to rouse her but enough that she should wake, only to have two hands reach out to grab his shirt instead. He tilted his head but could see her eyes still closed over and with a sigh, he shifted to slide a hand under her legs and his other around her shoulders. It took a moment before he moved to lift her, letting out a shocked breath when her arms went around his neck and he could feel the warm breath on his cheek. “Okay fine, we’ll get you upstairs then, huh?”

“Nuuhgh?” The vague noise came from the other before the hands around his neck held tighter and wound their way into his hair, before Grey gave his own sigh in response. Holding tighter, he slowly made his way out of the lounge, closing the door behind him and glad that Jo’d cleared away the dessert tray earlier in the night that he didn’t have to worry about anything but the lights as he slowly made his way upstairs. “Huungh?”

“Bed time, Jo.” “Uuh?” “Don’t worry, everyone’s already gone home, pretty one. Now its time for bed.”

“Mmmmokay.” Jo groaned the word out quietly, tucking her head against his chest as they got up the stairs and Grey navigated through the bedroom door. This was possibly the most unexpected end to the evening for him, but as he laid the other out on the bed and moved to tuck her in, he was unsurprised to find the two hands holding him tug gently to pull him down too. “Mmnoo.”

“Okay, Jo, but jeans off.” Grey chuckled quietly at her fussing and fighting to keep him near, shifting to kick his jeans down quickly before stripping hers off her legs too before climbing into bed behind her.

Tucking in against her back, Grey found himself tugging Jo back against himself and curling in against her to relax. It had been a long day, but as the other twisted around and tucked her face into the crook of his neck, Grey couldn’t hold back the laugh knowing that the day had been practically perfect for him, and his night was setting up to be just the same watching over until the sunrise and his sunshine would wake up.

---

#cc #ca #greypov #happy grey day part 3

1 note · View note

callme-sarge · 5 years

Text

Drawn to you

SMUT 18+ only

A/n: First Loki fic I’m super proud of it and I really hope you guys enjoy it!

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word count: 4404 it is way longer than I meant for it to be I’m sorry

Feedback and reblogs are loved and welcomed

You were sat at your desk when your best friend Jane called you, desperate for a break from the typing up reports you quickly answered. “Hey what’s up, I haven’t heard from you in a while?” You leaned into your chair stretching your back.

“Not much I’m actually stuck on this new theory.” She went on to explain how she was trying to understand how Asgardian “technology” worked in correlation to human technology but it was slow going because things were a bit weird between her and Thor.

“So, you wanna use me to get information from your ex is that what I’m hearing?” You joked.

“Ugh no that’s not-.”

“Oh no that’s exactly it.” You laughed spinning in your chair. “Of course, I’ll talk to him just send me what you’ve got and any major questions you need answered and I’ll take care of it. You owe me food for this y’know?”

“Oh my god thank you, you’re a lifesaver and next time I’m in New York anywhere you wanna go.” You talked for a few more minutes before she had to go and then you called Thor who had thankfully finally gotten a phone and learned how to use it, wanting to get out of your office he agreed to meet you on the third-floor balcony of the compound that looked over the manicured lawn. You printed off all the work Jane had sent you and laid it along with a notebook into your bag before heading out. You stopped at a vending machine before you walked out the doors to the balcony when you remembered you had forgotten your lunch that day also grabbing a pack of pop tarts as a small thank you to Thor.

Once you got settled in you began reading over Janes work while nibbling on the snacks you bought, you were almost halfway through the small stack when a strong hand came down on your shoulder.

“Y/n! It’s been to long.” You whirled around grinning up at him his hair was much shorter than the last time you saw him, and he had an eyepatch covering his right eye. You jumped up from your chair and he swooped you off the ground in a crushing hug, this was one of the things you loved about Thor he gave the best hugs. Thankfully you were in jeans this time the last time you saw him you had been in a short flowy dress and when he lifted you off the ground there might have been an accidental mooning.

“I love your hair short it’s a good look, but what happened to your eye?” You questioned when he finally settled you on the ground. He took the seat in front of you and you slid him the pop tarts as he launched into his story of the last few years with Sakkar, his crazy sister nearly destroying Asgard.

“That’s insane I’m so sorry Thor.” He wiped crumbs from his beard.

“Why? I only lost one eye I do have a spare,” He grinned. “My people are safe and happy and those rebuilding what was destroyed are all trying to outdo each other, it’s become quite the competition. There is nothing to be sorry about.” You couldn’t believe even after everything that happened he was still this upbeat.

“Now about Janes work, I’m afraid I won’t be as helpful as you were expecting I never spent as much time studying the magic of my world as I should have but I have someone who is willing to help.”

“Oh, okay who-” Thor stood looking at someone behind you.

“Ah Loki I was beginning to wonder if you were lost brother.” You froze in your chair. You had never actually met the god of mischief, but you had heard plenty of stories and none of them were particularly good. You took a deep breath, you did trust Thor so unless his brother proved otherwise you would trust Loki as well. You stood up smoothing out the thin green blouse you wore before turning, your hand outstretched in greeting and nearly froze again.

Thor’s brother was hot. Not that Thor wasn’t also attractive but where he was solid muscle Loki was lean and tall with long black hair and when he took your hand in his with a small mischief filled smile you knew you were done for.

“Pleasure to meet you my name is Loki.”

“I know- I mean uh hi my names Y/n.” Typical not even two seconds in and you were already embarrassing yourself. Thor took one look at your flushed cheeks and after giving a rather obvious side eye announced he had some things to discuss with Bruce.

“Liar.” You mumbled under your breath.

“What was that?” He leaned closer, causing his hair fall over his shoulder and you longed to push it back.

You shook your head. “Nothing, sorry. Uhm.” You gestured to the chair across from yours before sitting. ‘You will not fall all over yourself just because he is pretty, get it together Y/n!’ You grabbed the papers you had already read and began putting them in order.

“I was almost finished with Janes paper.” You handed him the papers as he settled into the chair. “I figured you could read this before I start with all the questions, so you’ll have an understanding of what she’s doing.”

“Alright.” He brushed his hair away leaning back, placing his ankle over his knee and laying the papers there to read. He rested his chin on his hand and with his finger running over his bottom lip you couldn’t help but stare. Suddenly his eyes were on you a startling and unwavering blue.

Your eyes widened, and you could feel your face getting warmer. You hurriedly buried your nose back in the paper you had left off on, missing the growing smile on Loki’s face as he turned away.

You both sat in a comfortable silence as you read, when you had finished a page you would slide it across the table and his fingers would brush along your hand each time as he picked it up and you would have to restart whatever sentence you had been on. Loki was a much faster reader than you so when you finished your last page he was ready for it. You leaned down to your bag pulling out your notebook and rummaged around for a pen. You huffed flipping your hair back as you pulled your bag into your lap praying you had a pen somewhere, not wanting to go back to your office.

“Looking for something darling.” He straightened the papers all back in order as he watched you finding the huffy expression on your face adorable.

“I can’t find a pen. I coulda swore I had one in here.” You dropped your bag looking up at him.

“Here.” Gold light shimmered around his hand as a black pen appeared between his fingers. Your mouth dropped open slightly.

“How did you do that?” You took the pen looking it over in awe.

“Well that’s what you’re trying to find out now isn’t it?” He smiled.

That’s how you two spent the rest of the afternoon, for every question Loki answered you had two more. He was also more than happy to show off his magic for you he loved the look on your face when he did, the way your eyes went wide with amazement and your face lit up. He never wanted that look to leave your face. Well. His eyes drifted to chest were your breasts were slightly on display in the lower cut top you wore, and he couldn’t help but think of other expressions he wouldn’t mind seeing on your face.

“Oh shit, I hadn’t realized how late it was getting.” You glanced at your phone, it was nearly six thirty. “I need to be getting back home.” You started grabbing all the loose papers stuffing everything in your bag. “I’m so sorry I kept you here all day.”

“Don’t be I quite enjoy talking with you.” He handed you your notebook when you looked back up at him. The soft evening breeze had wisps of your hair fluttering about your face and his fingers itched to brush them away. He couldn’t believe he had become so enraptured by you so quickly, but here he was unable to look away from your beautiful y/e/c eyes. He didn’t want you to leave not yet.

“Would you like to have dinner with me?” You moved the loose hair tickling your cheeks behind your ear.

“What, like tonight?”

“Unless you are otherwise engaged yes, I don’t believe you’ve eaten anything other than.” He looked at the table you had sat at, at the wrappers slowly being pushed around by the wind. “A snickers bar and a bag of Doritos.” He turned his amused expression back to you as you played with your bags strap thinking about the two-day old Chinese food taking a rather lonely residence in your fridge. Your stomach grumbled low and you pulled your bag up higher on your shoulder.

“What did you have in mind.” You smiled.

You had only been in the avenger’s area once before when you had been deep in conversation with Bruce and had just followed him up to their kitchen area for some lunch. The kitchen looked straight out of a magazine everything was practically gleaming, you sat at the island hooking your bag over the back of the stool before admiring the beautiful marble top that could pay your rent for three months. Tony certainly could afford a nice set-up, you looked to your right at the large glass dining table and the living room behind that, the whole place felt so open and welcoming you couldn’t help but think that everyone up here really was a family.

You turned back at the clinking of pans. “So, god of mischief what is that you’re making me exactly?” He looked over his shoulder at you, his smirk making your grin widen.

“Steak and potatoes the way we had them on Asgard.” His voice muffled by the freezer door. Your stomach growled again at the thought of a real meal, you were so busy most days you just snacked or got something quick, but now your mouth was watering in anticipation. You slid of the stool walking up behind him as he reached up into a cabinet for spices, the black button down he wore stretching over his toned back making your eyes wander slowly downwards.

‘His ass does look rather spectacular in those dress pants...’ You thought. Your whole body started feeling much warmer as your thoughts began to stray, the spice bottles made a clicking sound when they met the counter quickly bringing you back to reality. ‘Oh my god get it together, you are just working with him on a paper he’s just being polite.’ You mentally scolded yourself before tapping his shoulder. He turned smiling down at you not at all helping that to warm feeling in your body.

“Mind if I help?” His smile widened, and he moved over making room for you.

“Of course not little one.” Your footsteps faltered slightly his words going straight to your core, his voice sounded much deeper. You brushed it off as he gave you instructions and the two of you began working around each other.

You talked as you cooked slowly getting to know each other, you weren’t sure if it was because he was just easy to talk to or if was because he was the silver-tongued god but he practically had you telling your life story by the time you had set the finished food on plates.

“Sorry I rambled the whole time.” You laughed sliding into the seat he pulled out for you.

“Don’t apologize anyone with internet can know enough about me. I wanted to know you.” He whispered the last part in your ear sending a wave of chills down your neck. He sat in the chair to your right before pouring two glasses of wine elegant fingers settling a glass next your plate.

“Thank you, Loki you really didn’t have to do all this, for me.” You took a sip of the wine humming at the sweet taste.

“No but I wanted to. I like you and good company is hard to find here since...” He trailed off looking down at his plate. You knew he meant the New York thing, but you had read the reports you had been around for it working as an intern at Tony’s labs and after talking to Loki all day you knew there was something off about it.

“Well I think everyone deserves a second chance, things aren’t always what they seem the first time around.” You had started cutting into your steak and missed the look Loki gave you.

The longer he was around you the more he realized he genuinely liked you he wasn’t fond of anyone really but the way you just accepted him, it made his breath catch in his throat. He could tell you had put thought into whether you should trust him or not and he wouldn’t ruin that for anything.

You let out a near pornographic moan at the first bite that made him shift in his seat. “Lohi vis is amading.” You mumbled around another mouthful causing him to laugh.

“Careful love you’ll choke.” You took a few moments longer than usual trying not to laugh as well.

“Don’t laugh it’s your fault you make amazing food. Can you cook for me all the time?” You joked.

“Anytime just ask.”

“Don’t I’ll just abuse the power.” You smirked before digging back in.

You both ate in silence after that and once you had cleaned all the dishes it was rather apparent that neither of you wanted to go so Loki grabbed another bottle of wine and you settled onto the plush couch next to him sliding your black flats off to tuck your legs under you.

“What’s that?” You looked to see what he was talking about, he was staring curiously at your ankle. You tugged the cuff of your pant leg up revealing the bottom half of your tattoo the black geometric design at the bottom was what he saw you couldn’t pull your pant up any higher, so he could only see half of the sunflower that covered most of your calf.

“It’s probably my favorite it was the third one I got.” He reached over, his cold fingers tracing the design.

“How many do you have?” You tipped your head up in thought.

“Uhm eight I think it’s hard to remember some connect to others so.” You took another sip of wine. “Eight tattoos and ten piercings in my regular street clothes I look like a regular punk New Yorker but in my work clothes everyone thinks I’m the sweet girl next door.” You chuckled flipping your hair back as you pulled your pant leg down, when you looked back up Loki was staring at your ears.

“What is it?”

“You said ten piercings, but you’ve only got seven.”

“That you can see.” His eyes shot to yours and your pulse quickened.

“So where are the other three?” His voice was once again much deeper than before, and the blue of his eyes was slowly disappearing. You hadn’t had enough to drink to blame what you said on the wine you just went for it.

“Well, why don’t you find out for yourself.” You bit your lip not taking your eyes off his and suddenly he was on you. His lips against yours his body pushing yours back onto the armrest behind you when his hand came up to cup your cheek you shivered at the contact his hands were much colder than a normal person, but it felt delicious on your heated skin.

He pulled back enough to nip at your bottom lip and when you let out a small gasp he used the opportunity to slip his tongue in pressing against yours and the kissing became more heated. He had pushed you back far enough you could move your legs from where they had been trapped beneath you and wrap them around his waist pulling him tight against you, whimpering at the feel of his hard cock pressing against your aching center.

He pulled away suddenly with a growl, you sat up when he stood next to the couch both of you breathing hard. He held his hand out to you. “Come.” You practically jumped off the couch grabbing your shoes before taking his hand as he led you out of the living room down a hall.

“Where are we going?” You sounded out of breath.

“My room. You work here if anyone were to walk in I don’t want you getting in trouble.” That was actually really smart, but you had been so caught up in him Captain America could have walked right in and you’re not sure if you would have cared enough to stop. You stopped at the end of the hall as Loki pushed his door open letting you in first. It was a large room but didn’t have much in it just a large bed next to the window that took up most of the wall, two bookshelves took up the opposite wall with a comfortable looking chair next to them.

“I’m never here often enough to need more than this.” He explained you turned back to him. He had undone the first few buttons of his shirt and you bit your lip at the sight. He moved closer his hand reaching up cupping your chin as his thumb tugged your lip free. “That’s for me to do.” He whispered using his hold on your chin to guide your head up, so he could once again capture your lips. It started slow just lazy kisses but when he tugged your bottom lip harshly you moaned pressing tighter against him and things heated up again rather quickly.

He started walking you backwards until you butt hit the edge of his bed and you pushed him away. He looked at you quizzically but when you slowly pulled your blouse up over your head he understood and hurriedly undid the rest of the buttons before throwing his shirt behind him. You dropped your shirt and laid back on the soft mattress letting your legs hang over the side. Loki ran his cool hands down your thighs before hooking them behind your knees pulling them open farther so he could stand in between. His hand slowly traveled up your thigh, stomach but stopped just below your bra upon seeing the small red dermal between your breasts.

“That’s one.” Your breathy voice full of need. His eyes flicked to yours as his hand continued its path up to wrap around your neck and your eyes slid shut as you giggled at the pressure. His cock twitched in his pants at the sight.

“You like this little one, you like being taken control of?” You nodded, he tightened his grip.

“I didn’t hear you.” You moaned out a yes when his grip on our throat lessened and his lips came crashing down to yours, all tongue and teeth. His hands slid down quickly undoing your jeans, shoving them down along with your now ruined panties. You gasped at the sudden cold on your wet heat as Loki pulls back breathing hard as he takes you in.

“Take it off.” He nods at your covered chest as he slowly undoes his belt. You scramble up the bed hurriedly undoing the lacy bra and tossing it away. His belt lands with a clink on the floor and you look up to see him palming his generous length through his pants, you can’t help but wonder how it would feel to have that inside you fucking you senseless.

“I see I’ve found the other two.” He growls out crawling up the bed. You cover your breasts hiding the new piercings from his view.

“You know I’m feeling a little left out, here I am naked in your bed and you’ve still got clothes on.” You arched a brow at his narrowed eyes, he paused not taking his eyes off yours, then there was the golden shimmer of his magic around his legs.

You didn’t have the chance to see much as he grabbed your ankle and quickly pulled you under him, your hands flew to his firm chest at the unexpected move. He pressed his hips firmly into yours and you whined when you felt his thick length pressing against your drenched cunt, you tried to rock your hips desperate for more friction, but you couldn’t move. You looked down to see a thin rope of green mist over your waist.

“Loki stop teasing.” You dragged your nails down his chest and he groaned at the feeling before grabbing both your hands in one of his, pining them above your head.

“You’re not the one giving orders tonight little one.” He punctuated his words by roughly grinding against your cunt. “Understood.” You nodded still desperately trying to move your hips against his. “I said do you understand.” He leaned down capturing your pierced nipple in his mouth sucking harshly you shook beneath him the piercing making you overly sensitive.

“Fuck, yes, yes sir please just fuck me!” He pulled off you with a pop, his eyes impossibly darker.

“Keep your hands up I’d hate to have to restrain them.” He released your wrists trailing his hands down to toy with your nipples.

“Liar.” You felt him smirk against your skin as he moved down your body leaving a trail of cold kisses that left your skin hotter than before. When he reached your spread legs, he wasted no time in lifting your legs over his shoulders and licking a stripe from your opening to your aching clit. “Shiiit.” You fisted the sheets above you trying to hold yourself back from dropping your hands to pull at his hair.

He ate you out like it was his job, his tongue switching from running tight circles over your clit to spearing your entrance reaching deeper than you had thought possible, his hands held tight to your bucking hips and you were turned into a blubbering mess beneath him. You looked down to see him gazing hungrily up at you his hair falling out of place, the coil in your stomach grew tighter and you were suddenly pushed over the edge when a green mist swirled around your breasts pulling at your taught nipples. You came screaming his name as he lapped at your juices drinking in everything you had to offer. You whimpered as you became too sensitive and he finally pulled away lowering your quivering legs to the mattress. He lay down next to you running his hands soothingly up your back.

“Are you alright darling?” He pressed a kiss to your shoulder and you turned your head to look at him.

“I don’t think I’ve ever cum that hard before.” He ran that sinful tongue across his lip, reaching to cup your face in his hand.

“Don’t speak to soon I’m not quite done with you yet.” He pulled you closer pressing a sweet kiss to your lips that you melted into, tasting yourself on him. You shifted and felt his leaking cock press against your ass, his hand left your face trailing down your leg to pull it high over his holding it in place. He pushed slowly into you with a groan, you pulled away from his lips your mouth dropping open at the feeling of his cock fully seated in you. He stilled giving you time to adjust, sucking marks onto your neck and shoulder when you finally pushed against him.

“Move, please Loki I want you.” His hand tightened around your thigh as his other hand reached up to hold your throat as he set a brutal pace. You opened your mouth in a silent scream, his thrusts had him hitting that sweet spot deep inside you over and over you held tight to his arm as he put pressure around your neck slowly cutting off oxygen.

“You feel so good y/n, you’re doing so good for me little one.” You tried your best to move your hips with his, but you couldn’t keep up the only thing keeping you in place was his grip on your thigh. The only sounds were the obscene slapping of skin on skin and your begging.

“Loki please I’m so close, please, please.” You probably sounded pathetic, but you didn’t care all you could think about was the delicious burn of his cock stretching you open. His hand slipped down between your legs to furiously rub at your clit the cold feeling jolted you. He released his grip on your throat and you your vision went white as you fell over the edge reaching behind you tangling your hand in Loki’s long hair, a few more strokes had him releasing into you with a roar.

You went limp in his arms breathing hard your heart threatening to beat out of your chest, he slowly pulled out of you hissing at the feeling. You rolled over pressing your face to his chest.

“Silver tongued god has taken on a whole new meaning to me now.” He chuckled wrapping his arms tightly around you as you felt something soft settling over you, you turned your head to see the dark bed sheet covering you. “I am seriously loving magic.” He smiled pressing quick kisses to your lips, you melted into him. “What was that for?”

He shook his head, “I like kissing you.” You smiled tracing your fingers over his chest.

“Well I like you.” You pressed your lips to his sweeping your tongue out seeking entrance which he quickly granted, pulling you to lay half on top of him before pulling away.

“Go to sleep little one I’ve got plans for you in the morning.” You gave a sleepy smile as you settled against him, you hadn’t realized how tired you actually were. Your breaths evened out as Loki stared down at you, he wasn’t sure why he felt so drawn to you he just knew he didn’t want to let you go.

#loki #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki x reader #marvel #my writing #thor #thor odinson #avengers #loki x reader smut #loki fanfic #bruce banner #jane foster #ragnorok

724 notes · View notes

beerecordings · 5 years

Text

Want

Part 18 of My Brother’s Keeper (Part 1 l Previous l Next)

My taglist is a separate post so let me know if you want to be added or removed! This is v long chapter because I love.... so many of these scenes... I hope you will enjoy it. Also happy Henrik appreciation week he deserves better I love him <3333 and also you for reading <3333333

Edit: yo @florenceisfalling made SUCH A LOVELY JAMIE AND CHASE PIECE with a tiny bit of inspo from this chapter and I love it so much!!! you can see it here

tws for self-hatred, panic attacks, and weight mentions/food

also major abuse themes sorry i should have included that right away this whole fic has major abuse so please be careful

He thinks that maybe all that he hoped for has come to be, and yet...

“Well, what do you need now, Jameson?”

“What do I need?”

“What do you want to do, I mean? We can get some food in you, you can lie down, maybe we need some more ointment for that throat of yours – where did Chase put that, he might have something for your ear infection too – well, whatever you feel like. What sounds good?”

“What – you want me to choose?”

“Yes, we have time for anything. We have a lot of time now. What would you like?”

Jameson stares up at Henrik, still sitting in the warmth left on the mattress as they slept.

“You sure you want me to choose?”

Henrik stops bustling around and turns back to him. He tries to smile but he can’t make his mouth move, just tries to look warm. “From now on,” he says. “You get to choose what you do and who you are. How does that sound?”

Sounds like breaking the rules. He bites down hard on his lip, closing his eyes, trying to banish the thought of all that Anti would do to him if he knew he was anything other than a prisoner here.

If he knew that he was beginning to be glad that Anti let him go.

“I want,” he says. “To go back to Anti.”

Henrik closes his eyes, breathes in deep. “Well,” he murmurs. “That is the one thing you cannot do.”

Jameson stares down at his scarred hands.

“Come on, Jamie.” Henrik steps closer, hands outstretched. “What do you want to do?”

What do you want to do? What do you want? What do you want to be?

“I want,” says Jameson.

He has to pause, has to pause to choke, overwhelmed just for an instant, as he realizes he has never once in his life signed the word.

“I want,” he repeats. “I want a shower.”

“A shower,” says Henrik, and smiles. “Well, I think that much can be handled.”

He's staring at his hair.

“What did you think it looked like?” Chase laughs, presenting him with a clean t-shirt.

Jameson ducks his head down, nervous with a stranger beside him, but his eyes flicker up again, and he's staring at his hair.

Staring at his face, clean.

“When was the last time you got to wash it?” asks Chase, frowning now. He reaches out to touch Jameson's hair and then thinks better of it, drawing away politely. Jameson tries his best to smile at him. If he's gentle and harmless, Chase won't hurt him, right?

“Long time,” he manages, his hands stammering as they tremble.

There are three different showers in the house that Marvin made. The one in the bathroom across from the spare room is, in two words, absolutely spiffing. Jameson's not really supposed to use old words – Anti said they made him sound stupid and didn't make sense to sign anyway – but for the remorseless pressure of the steaming hot water, where he stayed for two hours, rubbing shampoo into his hair and scraping his skin clean with soap the scent of oranges, he makes a mental exception.

Besides... Anti's not here.

He tries to smile at his reflection in the mirror. His hair has dried into a warm, earthy brown color. Its stiffness is gone and the streaks of dust and filth that used to make him feel so disgusting have vanished into a warm coconut smell. It even curls, just a little – tumbling gently over his forehead in a fine coil of brown and teal.

He's clean. He's clean and so is the house. Everything's clean. Even his nails are picked into white crescent moons. Finally, finally.

“You look good,” says Chase, and Jameson flinches to be mocked, but then he turns his gaze and sees only sincerity in Chase's face. “Here, want your shirt?”

“My shirt?”

“Yeah, sorry, I haven't had time to go buy you anything new yet. Just went to work and came back today, didn't even visit Jack. Schneep's feeling a little jumpy still, but when he chills out, I'll take you out of the house and we'll go buy you a whole wardrobe. Yeah?”

“Yeah – really, clothes all for me? – wait, can I – can I visit Mr. Jack sometime?”

“I like that sign for him.” Chase laughs and copies him, making the sign for infection over his eye. “You're kind of sassy, aren't you, Jay? I don't see why not.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, dude! He's, uh. Not great company, but still... I like to think he'd be glad you came to see him. I like to think he's glad when I come to see him, you know?”

Jameson doesn't know. Coma patients do not rejoice for a visit in his understanding. But the thought of finding Mr. Jack, of seeing him, of knowing where he is and how to get to him – that sounds amazing.

He chooses that. Henrik says he can do what he wants. He wants to find Jack. He's been wanting to know him his whole life, so a few days? That's nothing. He can wait.

He grins at his reflection again, easier now, and tugs Chase's shirt – no, no, it's his shirt now, Chase said so – over his head.

“How about some food?” offers Chase. “You want something to eat? Skinny little guy, I gotta tell you. Schneep says you probably need to put some weight on, which is great for me, cause I really like to fucking cook.”

Chase talks a lot, and never with any malice. Jameson kind of likes listening to him.

“Sounds good,” he agrees, a little less nervously.

And when Chase grins and reaches out, Jameson accepts his hand in his own, and lets him tug him towards the kitchen.

He's hungry so he gets something to eat.

That's just how things work here. It's bizarre.

Bizarre and wonderful.

That first meal they share together is pasta, if only just a little, to go easy on his stomach. Chase presents it to him with garlic and chicken and sweet alfredo sauce and basil and tomatoes.

“Does that look good?”

Jameson can't even sign “yes.” He is gripping the fork too tightly. He puts a mouthful of pasta in his mouth and then he reaches up to hold his head in his hands, crying over a fork’s worth of penne.

Chase reaches out and takes his hand and tells him, “Hey, hey, calm down, it's okay! It's okay, bud. It's all okay.”

Jameson says “I'm sorry” and Chase says “don't be, it's just pasta” and Jameson says “not for that, for everything, for trying to kill you, for hurting you – ”

And all Chase says is, “Oh, well.

That's okay too.”

Over the course of the next few days, Chase makes sandwiches with pesto and feta and savory pork with spoonfuls of yellow rice and zucchini fried in bread crumbs, brings home ice cream with big chunks of chocolate, drizzles fruit in sweet sauce, cooks fish and American burgers with barbecue sauce, bakes fresh bread, gives him protein and fats and sugars according to the diet Henrik helped them decide on, and asks him, every day, if there's anything new he'd like to try, anything he didn't get to have before.

“Sorry, I just like spoiling you, cooking is like the only thing I'm good at and I always cook for my family, you know? Is that weird to say, that we're family? Really, I think we should have been brothers a long time ago, like, right away, but then – see, but you're here now, so we're brothers, right? Anyway, here, I'm making a grocery list. What do you want, JJ?”

No one's ever asked him what he wants. No one's ever called him JJ. No one's ever cooked for him. He thinks he might love Chase. Anyway, he nods when he calls him “brother.” He smiles when he calls him brother.

Yes, he thinks they should have been brothers a long time ago. Isn't that what Anti told him? That if Chase hadn't been Mr. Jack's for so long, he would have been a good puppet too, and they could have been brothers a long time ago?

Jameson would have liked that. He tries to be grateful for right now.

Things are good.

Things are unbelievably, impossibly good.

And he doesn't deserve any of it.

“Can I sleep with you?” he asks Henrik on that first night after he has called him his brother.

“Oh,” says Henrik. “Look, Jameson, I had some dependency issues when I came back from – well, I've had some dependency issues too, but I wonder if it wouldn't be healthier for you to sleep on your own.”

“Please,” Jameson begs. “Please, it's too cold in my room and Jackie is across the wall from me. I'm frightened. I want to sleep in here with you.”

Henrik's face is blue and white with bruising and exhaustion. His chest hurts badly. He has just re-stitched one of the cuts on his stomach, not that he told anyone it tore open.

Jameson isn't the only one who could use comfort.

“Okay,” Henrik admits, sighing and flopping down onto his pillows. “Yes, alright, you can sleep in here. Come lay down and let’s get some sleep.”

The bed is warm. There are no bugs or bloodstains. During the night, nothing bites him or attacks him or crawls, unexpectedly, into bed beside him, dragging static-electric hands along his flesh or kissing at the side of his throat, whispering promises of torture for later if he doesn't behave –

The nice thing about his panic attacks – Chase has been trying to teach him about having a positive mentality – is that they are silent and stiffer than a frozen tree, so he doesn't wake Henrik up four times a night like he would otherwise.

He thinks about Anti often, about all the things he should have done so that his big brother wouldn't have had to throw him out. His brain has also begun to play a cruel trick on him where suddenly the warm memories he had with Anti become sinister.

Do you remember the time he gave you your knives? You were so happy. (He also threw you down the stairs once for missing the target twice in a row, and your head split open and you bled and bled and bled.)

Do you remember the time you were so hungry you could not rise from your bed, and then he brought you – oh, they were so tasty – real donuts covered completely in sugar? You wept for joy. (The only reason you were starving in the first place was because he thought it was funny. He could have brought food for you anytime.)

Do you recall Christmas, when he brought you your blanket? You loved that thing. Slept with it every night and dragged it around after you everywhere you went. He called you his baby and you smiled. (That thing was filthy and disgusting and I hate being treated like a child, I just played along because it made him smile, and anyway Chase and Henrik have a dozen blankets a hundred times better than that one, my only fucking comfort in that god-awful – oh, oh, what am I thinking?)

He is scared that he will no longer want Anti if he stays here.

And that is the worst thought of all.

The thought that maybe – just maybe – Anti didn't actually – Anti wasn't actually –

No, no, no, no. He can't admit it. Can't even think it.

Because if Anti never really loved him, what was he doing all these months?

Anti loved him. He knows that. He's sure. It was all worth it. It must have all been worth it. He cannot accept that his suffering was meaningless. Impossible. Unthinkable. Terrible.

He loves Anti. And this place? As wonderful as it is, it is not where he belongs.

He's afraid of what it will turn him into if he stays.

Sometimes he hears Jackie moving around downstairs. This noise alone is enough to make him tremble harder than before, and bury his face against Henrik's chest, wondering if the doctor is powerful enough to protect him from the hero, when the time comes for Jackie to kill him.

He's allowed outside whenever he feels like it.

He and Anti had to hide, so, at the old house, there were only certain times he was allowed outside, and only for so long, and anyway it was winter. But this?

This is spring and he is free in it.

He doesn't know where they are. All he knows is that it's as beautiful as the glimpses of stars he used to catch through his window.

They live in the midst of a grand forest, creaking with age, where trees stretch up to the sky like God has invited them to the best garden party ever and they're trying not to be late. The branches are full of hollering birds and budding leaves and there are these fat little chipmunks scurrying along the forest floor like a kid spilled a whole box of fluffy brown marbles, and the air is clean and good and warm and Jameson – Jameson –

Jameson is in love.

He walks through it often and his brothers don't even ask him where he's going or when he'll be back. They just let him wander. His favorite spot is a river, among the trees, where he likes to come and just stand, rolling up the jeans Chase gifted him and watching the water sighing past his feet, cool and clear. The rocks press against the pads of his feet.

Once, he saw a white cat, there on the bank of the river.

He got so excited he nearly slipped, and, anxious and delighted, he signed a shaky “hello!”

The cat looked at him with big, clever blue eyes.

He reached out to touch it, but it ran away.

He still hopes to find it, one of these days. He thinks Chase feeds it in the morning, but that feels like cheating, so he waits until the sun is high in the sky, and walks every day, watching, wandering, free.

He plans to escape by way of the forest.

He'll be sad to see it go. Maybe someday he can bring Anti back here, and they'll walk through the trees together, and no longer have to hide.

“Okay, like that – yep, turn a little!”

Jameson curves the remote.

“Yeah, yep! There, now you're in the right direction. Okay, hit – yeah, that button there – and you're off! Okay, watch for the ledge!”

He sees the ledge getting closer and closer, but can't turn in time. He watches with a disgruntled twitch of his mustache as Bowser Jr. plummets to his death once again, only to be resurrected by a flying turtle.

Chase is laughing. “It's okay,” he says. “It's okay. Want to try again?”

JJ straightens up, the frown melting away. Chase never gets angry with him for fucking it up. “Yes,” he nods quickly, lifting up his little remote again. He'll keep trying til he gets it right.

“Okay, turn, then button – there you go. Can you get around the hill? Curve it – good job, bud! I'll show you how to drift in a second. Watch out for the – oh!”

Baby Bowser successfully swerves his motorcycle out of the way and continues through Moo Moo Meadows.

“Good job!” cheers Chase.

JJ puts his remote down, laughing. His clock reads eleven o' clock in the morning. “You have to go to work,” he reminds Chase warmly.

“Damn, you're right! Guess I have to say goodbye.”

JJ grins wickedly, scooting forward. Chase watches with raised eyebrows, slowly beginning to get up from the couch.

Jameson tackles him back down, grabbing a pillow to slam it over his head, and Chase yelps out a laugh and grabs him around the waist, heaving him up and off him. “Help, help,” he cries, shoving Jameson halfway off the couch, so his head hangs over the edge. “A dork with a hipster mustache is attacking me again!”

Three days ago Chase had tried to go to work and Jameson had grabbed his hand and refused to let go, grinning mischievously as Chase struggled to get free. It was the most emotion he had shown Chase thus far, and he was so delighted that he tussled with him for a full hour and then stayed home from work.

Fuck videos. He's got a little brother now. And Jameson smiles easier every day.

“I love you,” mumbles Chase, leaning down to press their heads together.

“Asshole,” signs JJ, cheekily.

And then he presses his forehead against Chase and smiles, closing his eyes and pressing the word “love” against his brother's chest.

Chase smiles til his face hurts.

“What are you morons up to now?” asks Henrik, appearing at the top of the stairs with three used mugs hanging off his hands, only now being mercifully returned to the washing machine after days of neglect.

“I was trying to teach Jamie to play Mario Kart.”

“Ah, I hate that fucking game.”

“He only says that cause he's bad at it,” Chase whispers to Jameson.

“Aren't you late for work?” asks Henrik, washing his mugs off in the sink. Jameson rises and steps towards him, soaking in the sunlight wandering in through the glass-windowed door to the patio.

“I set my own schedule!” says Chase. “And by that schedule, yes, I'm late.” He lets out a boisterous laugh, throwing his head back. “I’m distractable lately! Jamie, toss me my shoes? Good throw – got it! – oh, shit – ah, barely caught that one!”

“Stop throwing shoes!” Henrik snaps, turning to glare at his giggling brothers.

“Bye, guys!” calls Chase, clutching the door handle. He leans his head towards it for a second, closing his eyes, and then steps through.

Weird. That door's always locked when JJ tries it. Shrugging it off and tidying his mussed hair carefully, Jamie moves towards Henrik and sets his chin on his brother's shoulder, watching him rinse out the cups, still stained with coffee at the bottom.

“How are you doing today?” asks Henrik. He moves the mug in his hand and the water splashes up towards them, getting water in Jameson's face.

Jamie shoves his shoulder playfully and falls back, shaking his head at Henrik's laughter. He comes closer again and takes a coffee-free mug from his brother, turning to set it in the washing machine.

“Actually,” he admits. “There's something I wanted to ask you.”

“Don't keep me in suspense.” Henrik hands him a second mug and picks the third one up in his hand, turning to look at him as he signs.

Jameson puts the mug in the washer. “When are we going back to Anti?”

Henrik drops the mug.

Flinching hard at the awful shattering of the glass, Jameson backs away.

The whiteness of Henrik's face only makes him flinch harder, cowering, a long-conditioned fear waking up in his stomach, making his heart pound a harsh reprimand against the inside of his ribs. He is terrified, suddenly, of the old stories Anti told him about all the things he would do if the others were his puppets, how he would bring his prisoners to the doctor and make him name each one of their bones as they shattered, keeping them alive for weeks after Anti had made them beg to die, and Jameson sees Henrik before him as he was in that cold basement only two weeks ago, covered in blood and subject, completely, to Anti's will, and terror burns at the back of his throat like whiskey.

“Get the broom,” whispers Henrik.

“What?” signs Jameson, and then he panics, realizing he's questioned an order, he didn't mean to, it just happened, he reaches up a hasty first to circle a “sorry!” around his heart –

Henrik reaches out and grabs his hands. “Just go get the broom,” he rasps, closing his eyes.

Jameson dashes towards the laundry room. He brings the broom back right away, but in the seconds he was gone, Henrik has collapsed in on himself. His hands, stiff on the kitchen counter, are keeping him standing, but his face is so pale Jameson drops the broom and reaches forward to hold his shoulders, anticipating a fall.

Henrik grabs his shoulders in return, looking up at him with exhausted eyes as blue as the ocean where the light hits the water. “Why would you ask that?” he asks.

Tears fill and overflow and come running down his face.

“I thought,” he whispers, trembling, holding onto his little brother as tightly as he can without hurting. “I thought you were happy here. Or becoming, anyway. I thought you wanted to be our brother.”

“I do, I do!” Jameson resists the urge to tear at his hair, panic rising like a bonfire in his stomach. “Don't be upset with me, please! I just thought we would go back to Anti together! You and Chase and I could all be together still. We could all go back!”

“Go back to Anti together,” Henrik repeats.

He is no longer whispering. He shouts.

“Go back to my torturer? Go back to your torturer? And bring Chase Brody? Bring my fucking little brother? Bring my friend?”

“No, no, no.” Jameson shakes his head so fast it hurts. “Not back to a torturer, he wouldn't torture us if we came willingly!”

Henrik shoves him away, gasping on the despair in his throat, and Jameson falls back like he's been struck, covering his face with his hands and collapsing to the floor, huddling back against the patio door, crying so hard he can barely breathe.

“Oh, God, why?” pants Henrik. He wants to turn away, he's scared of what he'll do if he looks at him, but it's not fair to turn away from his signing. “Oh, God. You don't – you don't understand anything.”

“I understand plenty,” Jameson protests, trying frantically to wipe the tears off his place. “I understand that being in this place has already made you forget who we belong to.”

Henrik screams aloud, slamming his fist against the counter.

“How can you say that!” he howls. “After all he put you through! I thought you were happy here! I don't understand! How can you say that!”

“What the fuck is happening?” a voice interrupts them, and Jameson stiffens like a rabbit that just heard a gun go off.

Jackie stands in the entryway, eyes wide.

Eyes angry.

“Henrik, what's wrong?”

“Nothing,” fumbles Henrik, barely able to speak. He is stumbling away from Jameson, his eyes flickering desperately from wall to wall. “Nothing, it's not his fault, he doesn't know, it's not my fault, I didn't know, I was just trying to be his, I just didn't want to get hurt, I was just trying to survive and he told me I was his but I don't believe him I don't believe him I don't believe him – ”

Jackie moves forward to grab him as he falters, gripping his hands firmly and leading him back towards the couch as his brother unravels, drowning in his own terror.

He doesn't even look at Jameson.

Stiff and silent, shaking in the corner, alone.

His scarred right hand rests on the handle of the patio door.

Henrik will not come with him. He understands now. His brother has been through too much. The bad blood between him and Anti can't be settled. Jameson will go without him.

And Chase, too, he must leave behind. It was selfish, thinking he could bring him. Anti always talked about slaughtering him like a pig. Chase is too far gone, too loyal to Mr. Jack, his old friend, sleeping sound. Yes, Jameson must go without them.

It will break his heart, but he must go without them.

He’s trying to work up the nerve.

Anti didn't love you, says one part of his brain.

This part of his brain has told him this since he was perhaps two days old. He has ignored it every time. Repressed it. Swallowed it down. Told it to shut the fuck up and wondered if he could cut it out of the side of his head before Anti sensed his disloyalty.

But that night, beside a forgiving, bone-weary Henrik, with Chase across the hallway, both sound asleep, both watching over him –

For the first time in his life, the rest of him answers that part of his brain: I know.

But I must go back anyway.

I don't deserve this.

To be clean and fed and free and happy.

To be loved.

I don't deserve them.

He wants them. Wants all of it. Wants to be theirs and his own, but never again Anti's. He wants it so much it makes his heart hurt and his hands shake and his eyelids have to squeeze tight together to stop tears from falling.

He wants it, but he doesn't deserve it.

He begins to plan his escape.

#jameson jackson #chase brody #jse egos #writersofjack #tw self hatred #tw panic attack #tw ptsd #food tw #thought about titling this 'this chapter doesn't deserve a title'#and also 'god answered my prayers and i told him to fuck off'#but i decided against them lol #bee writes #hey thank you so much to all of you who give me comments they make me so happy #i think about things you've said as i write #it gives me comfort you know???#anyway ty ly :)#tw aggressive reaction

91 notes · View notes

swindlersstole · 5 years

Note

7, 32, 42?

i really hate to do this to you right now because it’s Go Time but also. it’s Girl Time

32. hammock

Gemma was learning a lot of things about herself these days. Specifically, about herself and travelling, and the lesson of the day was this: she was not good with boats.

This was good to know for the future, because now, as the official first apprentice of the master merchant Derk (titles pending), she would be doing a lot of traveling, both with him and alone as his proxy. Traveling to Dundrasil now was exactly such a proxy service--Derk had been away from his wife for far too long, and Gemma had done such a remarkable job organizing Cobblestone’s repairs, that Derk insisted that she help oversee Dundrasil in his stead.

Of course, even if he hadn’t asked, Nova had wanted her to come along for the exact same reason. It would be hard work, to be sure, far harder than their village, but Gemma would do anything for her best friend--and she couldn’t turn back from a challenge. The people of Cobblestone were resilient, perseverant, and did not give up, and Gemma was no exception.

The boat did not respect that resolve in the slightest.

Gemma rose from the table on unsteady feet, and Nova caught her before she could hit the floor. “Oh, crumbs…”

“Not a fan of the ocean, huh?” Nova laughed, very obviously worried.

“Ugh…” She pushed herself up off his shoulder, one hand holding her stomach. “It’s not your grandad’s boat on the river, that’s for sure.”

Sylvando leaned out from behind the partition of the galley, chin in his hands and a frown on his lips. “Oh, Gemma, honey, I’m so sorry! Everyone got their sea legs so quickly before. I didn’t even think about someone getting sea sick.”

“If memory serves, Sylv, we didn’t have much of a choice on the sea legs front.” Erik poked out from behind Sylvando; without Jade on board, he’d been tasked to help prep dinner in her stead, but he seemed ready to jump at the slightest inclination that Gemma needed another hand. “You gonna be alright there?”

“I’m going to hafta be, aren’t I?” Now standing straight and independent of Nova, Gemma forced a smile. “So, I’m a little green around the gills--it’s alright! Better I find out now than later. I’ll just… ask to go on foot next time! That’s possible, right?”

It wasn’t the most convincing bluff of her life, and whatever parts of it actually held up as believable were quickly dashed when her stomach lurched again, loud and clear and impossible to disguise as creaking floorboards. Gemma doubled over the table with a groan; Nova raised his arms ready to catch her again, and Erik leapt over the counter in a bolt, and the only thing that stopped them was her was the hand she held up.

She took a few deep breaths, and then stood tall, but much more pale. “I’m okay!”

“Oh, no, darling, you’re really not.” Sylvando had crossed into the dining cabin, hands on his hips. Gemma might not have known him for as long as Nova had, but she definitely understood right away why Nova had said he reminded him so much of his mother. “Now, you need to go take that pretty little face of yours to the sick bay and get some rest. Captain’s orders.”

“But…” She looked between the three of them, somewhat helplessly. “What about dinner?”

“Honey,” Sylvando raised an eyebrow, “do you think you’re actually going to be able to eat anything right now?”

Gemma opened her mouth.

“Without throwing up.” Erik added.

Gemma closed her mouth.

“Please, Gemma,” Nova pleaded, “We need you at your best in Dundrasil, and I don’t want you catching something more serious because of this.”

Gemma wasn’t sure that seasickness was an open door for pneumonia, or shypox, or--well, actually, it was probably more of a prelude for shypox--but the point was, even after a near two decades of knowing him, she still hadn’t built up an immunity to Nova’s puppy-dog eyes. Which, she supposed was fair, he wasn’t very strong against hers, either, but this was a weakness that had worked against her time and again, and this was no exception. Gemma accepted defeat with a sigh and falling shoulders.

“...Fine, fine. You win,” She’d accepted her defeat, yes, but that didn’t mean she had to be happy about it. “I’m awful sorry, Sylvando, it smells lovely…!”

“Darling, I won’t hear of it!” Sylvando had a complete turnaround from his motherly insistence, clasping his hands together in delight. “This ship runs on happy faces, you know, but forcing a smile on someone isn’t how I do things. So, you go get lots of rest, and then you come back and show me the best smile you’ve got! Deal?”

“Deal,” Despite what he’d said, that did get a smile and a laugh out of Gemma--but, she knew she could do better, and a deal was a deal. She breathed in deep, and steeled herself for the brief trek ahead, turning towards the door to the deck.

As she walked, Nova turned to Erik. “I’ll go with her to be safe. I won’t be too long, just a--”

“Ohhh, no you don’t!”

It didn’t matter how ill she was, nothing could have stopped Gemma from turning on her heel and stomping back to Nova, just to stick the scolding; he jolted back from her shift in mood. “You’ll be up all night worrying about me if you do that, and then what are we going to get done in Dundrasil? Maybe I have to skip a meal tonight, but that’s not an excuse for you to, Nova. You’re so much more worse about taking care of yourself than I am.”

“Gemma, you’re over exaggerating,” Except she wasn’t, and everyone present knew that, but Nova persisted. “It really wouldn’t be that bad if I--”

“Ah-bup-bup!” She raised a finger to his mouth, effectively shushing him, before turning to Erik. “Erik, you have to make sure he stays put while I’m out. Feed him yourself, if you have to. He had a dream about it once. I read his journal.”

Nova’s face erupted in red. Sylvando cackled. And Erik brought a hand to his chin with a devious smile. “Oh, he did, now?”

“He’s a gentle, romantic soul, you know,” Gemma returned the smile despite her weariness, saccharine sweet and sly, “So I’m trusting you to do whatever you have to do to make sure Nova won’t leave to check on me--or even want to.”

“Ooh, Gemma!” Sylvando howled with laughter, slapping a hand on the dining table. “You naughty little thing, you, I love your style!”

Nova opened his mouth to object, to Gemma, to Sylvando, to anybody who could understand his sputtering, but whatever words he had turned into a gasp and a jolt when emerald-clad arms wrapped around his waist. Erik laid his chin on Nova’s shoulder, and looked to Gemma, all too proud like the cat that ate the canary.

“Ma’am, yes, ma’am,” He sounded far too enthusiastic about this allowance, and it made Nova groan and hide his face in his hands, “I won’t let you down~”

“...You know,” Nova said at last, after the resounding ‘clap!’ of Erik and Gemma’s high-five had faded, “there was this… a good ten minutes, when I was so happy you two became friends? I would love to live in those ten minutes again right now.”

Gemma found her way to the infirmary cabin without much difficulty. Once she was on her feet and moving, it was fairly easy to find a rhythm that could deter the rocking of the boat, and she reached her destination with little stumbling.

The sick bay itself looked not much different from the regular cabins. It was certainly bigger, to accommodate all the beds needed for an infirmary, but much of the room for closets and bookshelves replaced with a good deal of cabinets for medicines and herbs. She thought about taking an herb for herself, to see if it would ease the pain, but decided against it; if it was that easy, Nova would have just used magic in the first place, and that would have been that.

Interestingly enough though, Gemma noted, was the hammock strung up near one of the windows--at least, she thought it was a hammock, she’d never seen one shaped like a box before, but there wasn’t much else she could think it to be--which struck her as a bit odd, considering. A hammock on a ship wasn’t a strange mental picture, but in a sick bay, it seemed more… counterproductive, to the seasickness problem. Not that seasickness was the only reason to go to a sick bay but--

A loud churn from her stomach cut off her string of thoughts, and Gemma crumpled over onto the nearest bed with a whine. The more she thought about being sick, the worse it was going to get, and she wasn’t about to spew and make a nuisance of herself on Nova’s account. And that was a worry that was already eating at her appetite enough without the ocean’s help, thank you very much.

Gemma shuddered miserably at the thought, and when her stomach had stilled once more, she kicked off her boots and tucked herself under the blankets, waiting to slip away into troubled sleep.

A knock at the door roused Gemma with a groan. She glanced at the window, and grumbled when she saw the sun setting above her, turning her back to the door, and tugging her headscarf over her eyes. “Novaaa, go to dinner…!”

“Oh no, he’s there!” came a voice that was very much not Nova’s, “I brought you something to eat, Gemma.”

It took a moment for Gemma’s groggy mind to fully recognize the voice, but when she did, she rose out of bed slowly from surprise; her headscarf fell around her neck. “...Serena?”

Serena came in at the sound of her name, all smiles and polka dots--she was in that pretty red dress that Gemma had complimented to no end (and that Nova had said he’d made her, and that Gemma could still not believe that Nova had made with his own, human hands), carrying a tray of bread and mugs along with her. She reminded Gemma in that instant of the old picture books her grandad would read to her when she was little, of milkmaids and farmhands living happily in the flower fields of Zwaardsrust before heading off on a grand adventure; all Serena needed was her hair in braids.

Well. Not really, actually, Gemma thought, because then Serena would look too much like Veronica, and she rather liked Serena the way she was.

“Oh, my! You’re looking much better already,” And if such a profound healer like Serena was saying that, Gemma supposed it had to be true, “Do you think you’re well enough to eat something?”

Good question, actually--Gemma supposed she was feeling a bit peckish now. “I… maybe? Is that a good idea for me?”

“As long as it’s nothing too heavy, yes.” Serena closed the door behind her with her back before entering the room in full, setting the tray she’d brought on a nearby table. “Some fresh, warm bread ought to do you good. And ginger ale will do wonders for nausea!”

The scent of the bread wafted through the room. That was one of Gemma’s favorite smells in the world, and her stomach made a noise again--but this time, it was an honest to goodness growl, and she was too relieved that it was a normal sound to be embarrassed that Serena heard it. Then Serena giggled her sweet giggle, and Gemma felt just a smidgen of embarrassment, but not enough to deter her from food.

“That sounds... really good, actually,” Gemma stood up from the bed, blanket wrapped around her shoulders, and made her way to the table with care. “Did you bring all this for me, Serena?”

“I did!” Serena waited until Gemma had sat down before doing the same. “Although… I was hoping if I could join you, if that was alright. I couldn’t eat much of dinner tonight.”

“Oh, no! Ah, I mean--of course you can stay, but did you get queasy, too?”

“No, not quite,” Serena waved aside the worry bashfully, and reached for the bread; she cut a generous slice for Gemma before serving herself. “There was cabbage in some of the servings. I’m allergic.”

“Oof, that’s a rough one,” Gemma nodded in sympathy as she reached for the butter, “My grandma? She’s got a little onion allergy. Refuses not to eat it, though, so it makes cooking a right nightmare sometimes.”

“Gosh, I can imagine!” Serena covered her mouth while she chewed, soft and dainty, like a pretty princess Gemma had dreamed up long ago. “You’d have to substitute it, I’d imagine?”

“Oh, of course--but Grandmum’s so stubborn about it, y’see, so we have to be careful with switching things around so she doesn’t see. Nova’s had to sneak me fennel from him and his mum more times than I can count,” And speaking of, actually... “You know, I’m surprised Nova didn’t come with you!”

“Ah ha, well! He tried to, bless him,” And Serena laughed behind her hand, and that princess Gemma had dreamed up seemed more and more to come to life, “But we all know what he’s like when he gets worried. Nobody was having it when he said he wanted to come with! Erik had gone far enough to sit in his lap to feed him by hand so I could leave alone.”

Gemma squeaked, and put down her mug before she could take a drink and choke on her laughter. “Crikey, I didn’t think he’d actually do it!”

“Hm? What do you mean?”

“Oh--I was teasin’ Nova, before I got here. Told a little fib about reading his diary. And I said to Erik, if he tried to follow me, to do whatever he had to to stop ‘im,” Gemma raised her mug again, and grinned around the rim. “Might’ve given him a few ideas on how to do that.”

Serena’s eyes went wide as dinner plates, her cheeks tinged pink, but she soon fell into a fit of laughter--a bit more boisterous than her giggles, Gemma noted, but no less elegant and lovely. “Goodness, I wish I’d known it was that easy! Veronica teases him sometimes, too, but he always seems to shake it off. I didn’t think anything could get under his skin! You must have a gift for speaking ‘Nova’, Gemma.”

“Aw, it’s nothing special, really,” Gemma tugged off her headscarf and fiddled with it in her lap just the slightest bit shy, “I’ve just known him a long time, is all. I know what buttons to press.”

She wasn’t sure she could keep talking about herself, with Serena praising her so genuinely for something so small. She had to shift the topic. “But, you said Veronica’s tried? What’s she done before?”

“Oh! So,” Serena set down her mug, and her hands fluttered to life, a story on her lips and fingertips, “there was this one time, I remember quite clearly--we were visiting Gallopolis, and it was a particularly dry day—Veronica made a joke about Nova’s hair, and how he must use an army’s worth of conditioner?”

Gemma hummed, already understanding where this was going. “And he had no idea what she was talking about, right?”

“We were floored! Erik looked like he was about to lose his mind when he said that. I wouldn’t be surprised at this point if you told me he’s never used a brush in his life.”

“Oh, he wouldn’t get away with that one, not if his mum had anything to say about it,” Gemma shrugged, clearly faking exasperation, “Dumb boys, right? What can ya do?”

“Not very much at all!” Serena laughed again, and it struck Gemma now that Serena’s laughter was so striking to her because it sounded like a melody--a sweet, simple song that made Gemma fall into laughter too, and into a gentle, easy evening gossiping with her new friend.

They talked late into the night, much later than Gemma had realized, but not enough to make it urgent. Serena had a calming aura about her, which was something she’d always known since meeting her, but her voice had such a timber to it that all of Gemma’s earlier troubles were forgotten.

They swapped stories, about nothing, about everything. Gemma talked about Cobblestone, about growing up with Nova (“I can’t tell you the real embarrassing stories, he found out I told Erik about when he put the slimedrop in his hair and he’s still mad about it,”), about how she wanted to go into the clothing business, and how some of the other kids thought she was odd for liking math so much. Serena responded in turn with stories of Arboria, about her and Veronica’s misadventures (“Oh, I was so hungry, Gemma, you have to understand, I was desperate to get out of studying! And the page had a picture of an herb on it, and I just--”), about all her favorite books and songs and plays, and, “I would be happy to loan you something, I have some books I think you’d rather like!”.

And Gemma was sure she would like them, but hearing Serena tell her about those stories instead was fulfilling in its own way. She was such a gifted storyteller--Gemma could have listened to her forever.

She might have very well done just that, the way they were going; Serena was just finishing up an explanation on the musical complexity and range of Graham Globe when Gemma yawned, much louder and longer than she’d meant to. She clamped a hand over her mouth in shock, and it took her a moment before she could meet Serena’s worried gaze.

“Oh, gosh,” Gemma felt her cheeks burn. If it had been Nova, she wouldn’t have been nearly as embarrassed (he’d seen much worse with nary a blink as a response), but she couldn’t stand the idea of Serena having seen that, “Serena, I’m so sorry! I’m not bored, or anything, I promise.”

“No, no! You’re perfectly fine, Gemma,” Serena took it all with grace, as Gemma must have imagined she did with everything, “If anything, it’s my mistake. I didn’t even realize how late I’ve been keeping you.”

“‘Late’? But it’s not…” Gemma’s point was lost as soon as she turned to the window and was met with the dark, night sky. “Oh! Well, what do you know?”

“The lamp’s almost out of oil, too,” Serena noted, “Time flies when you’re having fun.”

“I’ll say,” Gemma wasn’t about to comment on how happy she was to hear that Serena had fun talking with her, there were bigger concerns at hand, “Should you be getting to bed, Serena?”

“Hmm… oh, probably,” She sounded disheartened by the idea. How odd, “but I would hate to leave if you’re still unwell.”

Oh. That was right! She was seasick! That’s why they were here! Gemma had all but forgotten about it, though now that Serena brought it up, she was conscious of the dull ache slowly growing again in her stomach--not painful, yet, but present.

“Well…” Gemma placed a hand over her stomach, brows furrowed, “We dropped anchor already, didn’t we? I don’t think it can’t get much worse until we start moving again.”

“No, you’re right,” Serena admitted, “I suppose I’m just being a bit of a worrywart… but, since we’re talking about it? I wanted to ask you something, Gemma.”

“Yes? What is it?”

Serena reached forward, tentatively, curiously, and picked up one corner of the blanket around Gemma’s shoulders. “Why didn’t you lay down in the hammock?”

“Uh--” Her sudden forwardness stunned Gemma into silence, and it took a moment for her to collect her thoughts. “I--it didn’t seem like the best idea, you know? If all this rocking is what’s making me sick, then more of it would just make it worse, wouldn’t it?”

“Oh, no! Quite the opposite, actually.” Serena clapped her hands together; her expression was still no less concerned, but her eyes sparkled with knowledge she was more than happy to share. “Sea sickness is just motion sickness. Laying in a hammock helps cancel out the movement of the boat, so you should have a much easier time sleeping in one than a bed.”

“Ah--no kidding!” So much for the hammock being a weird addition to the room. She wished Sylvando had mentioned that earlier. “You think that I should…?”

Serena, ever the dedicated healer, nodded assuredly. “With how out of sorts you were, I don’t think it would hurt.”

“Well… I guess you know best. Gosh, I hope it’s as comfy as the bed was,” Gemma fiddled with her scarf in her lap, laughing a touch awkwardly to herself, “Definitely won’t be as easy getting in, that’s for sure. Never was too good getting settled in a hammock.”

“No?”

“No, but… hm. I guess I might’ve been just too little, then? I could never get in one without… oh.”

Gemma stopped.

“...O-Oh.” Oh.

Something… struck her, just then. She’d been sharing so many stories tonight so haphazardly, she’d barely given it much thought, but now that she was giving them thought, the dull ache in her stomach began to grow into a pounding intensity--the strongest it had been all night. She doubled over, wincing and whining and clutching onto her abdomen, and all too suddenly, she felt far too small.

“Gemma!” Serena was upon her in an instant; she’d barely let a gasp escape her before she began to reach out. “Gemma, what’s wrong? Is your seasickness back?”

But Gemma shook her bowed head, quietly denying the hands that came to her aid.

“Gemma…?”

“I couldn’t do it,” Gemma spoke quickly, and pained, trembling in voice and body, “I couldn’t do it without Nova’s help.”

The confession alone made Gemma run cold. She’d agreed to this trip--to work in Derk’s stead, to organize the reconstruction of a kingdom she’d only seen in storybooks, to help her friend when he called on her--to make a point to herself. To prove to herself that she could stand on her own two feet, without relying on Nova all the time. Gemma had grown dependent on him, and complacent, she could admit that now, and such a thing wasn’t fair to her or him.

She wasn’t jealous. She wasn’t bitter. They would always be best friends, Gemma always in his heart, and Nova always in hers, but Nova wouldn’t always be right next to her to catch her when she stumbled. She had to learn. She had to get better, but she’d already caused Nova so much trouble and worry with just a stomach ache--and now here she was, being a nuisance to Serena, too. Serena, who was so soft and gentle and impossibly lovely, who said her name so sweetly, who had only ever shown her kindness since they met that night in Heliodor, and Gemma couldn’t understand why, but it didn’t matter. A burden was still a burden.

She didn’t think her heart could bear much more of this.

“Gemma.”

Serena’s hands were warm over her own, pulling them away from her stomach, and Gemma realized just how badly she was shaking. And when she finally made herself meet Serena’s gaze, she found that Serena was looking at her with soft, gentle, almost revering eyes, and any response Gemma could have made was gone before it saw the light of day.

“...You know,” Serena started, “you and Nova are very much alike. You both think far too loud.”

Gemma sniffled, and pulled away one hand to rub at her eyes. “W-What do you mean?”

“You’re both rather hard on yourselves. You both take on so much, on your own, because you think that you have to do it on your own. And… to be fair, that might be true, for some things. But certainly not everything, and I think that ends up forgotten along the way.”

Serena paused, breathing in deep. Gemma couldn’t think of a time she’d ever seen her so serious. “Nova’s gotten better about it. He has a lot of help from a lot of people...plenty of people who are happy to remind him that he doesn’t have to do everything by himself. But, Gemma… I’m not sure if anyone has ever told you that.”

She swallowed. “So. I’m going to.”

Gemma felt her shoulders tense, and her cheeks burned in the dimming lamplight. Her lips parted, as if to speak, but so in shock, she didn’t dare interrupt Serena now.

“I… I think you’re very amazing,” Serena said, “If I try to put myself in your shoes, I’m not sure I could do what you do. You’re a much braver and more resourceful person than I think you’re giving yourself credit for, Gemma. And I really mean that.”

And she really did, Gemma could tell, but she didn’t think she’d ever know why.

“So… please, don’t be disheartened. We can’t make it on our own--we need other people to help us, and they need us the same. Asking for help isn’t a crime, Gemma. It’s in our nature. It’s what makes us human.”

Serena bit her cheek. Her thumb ran circles around Gemma’s knuckles.

“...I wish I could make it better for you, just saying that, but… we both know I can’t. It’s a deeper problem that magic and words just can’t fix. But if nothing else… you should know I’m here for you. And I’ll help you in any way I can. If you can’t turn to everyone yet, please know you can turn to me.”

Gemma swallowed, but she nodded a grateful nod, and subconsciously squeezed Serena’s hands. She really did know, Gemma thought, she understood, and the world didn’t feel so lonesome anymore.

“...Thank you, Serena,” she sniffled out her thanks, but Gemma managed a tiny, grateful smile, if only for a second, “I’m… sorry, you had to see all that. I was planning to talk to Nova about it all, I swear…”

“Please, don’t be sorry, Gemma--I truly did mean what I said,” Serena patted her hands consolingly, “We’re all companions here, remember? And that means you and I, too.”

Companions. Right. The word alone alleviated some of the pain in her stomach; in retrospect, it figured that Gemma would stress herself sick. But it had been reassuring beyond measure for Serena to say that regardless. Nova would never tell her if she was causing trouble, so he was an unreliable opinion, but Serena had no previous attachment or ulterior motives to lie.

If Serena said she wasn’t a bother, then Gemma could finally, slowly but surely, start to believe it.

“Now then,” Serena stood from her chair, her hand still holding Gemma’s, pulling her up with her, “let’s go and get you all settled, shall we? I don’t know about you, but I’ve always found a warm bed the best comfort after a good cry.”

She bent down a moment, to pick up the blanket that had fallen off Gemma’s shoulders, and wrapped it back around her. Gemma watched her, stunned, but vacantly grabbed at the blanket’s edges and tugged them over her chest. Satisfied with this, Serena gave her an affirming nod and smile, and stepped around her to prepare the hammock, and she watched her go, a thousand thoughts spinning in her mind, and suddenly--

“Serena?”

Serena stopped. “Hm?”

“Could I ask… would you stay with me? If it’s… not a trouble to you,” Gemma fidgeted with the blanket, burying her face in the fabric, “I--I’m feeling better, really, but I… I’m not sure I can be alone, right now.”

Goodness. Asking for help did ease some more of her aches, but it did nothing for how embarrassing such a thing was to say out loud. It wasn’t as though Serena hadn’t made… something of an offer like that herself earlier, but that had been before she’d seen first hand how needy Gemma could be. It felt silly of her, to bank on Serena’s support so soon after she’d made it known.

“It would be my pleasure.”

But Serena, voice tender and delighted and relieved, answered her as clear as day, as easy as breathing, and a part of Gemma had to wonder why she’d been worried in the first place.

As promised, Serena helped Gemma in first.

The hammock was snug, to say the least. Gemma wasn’t sure if that was because it was meant for only one person, or because she and Serena were just too big. Distantly, she remembered those warm autumn days where she and Nova and Sandy would nap in her grandfather’s hammock, but they’d only been children, then, and Sandy still a puppy; a part of her wondered if this hammock might fall over like Grandad’s did, too, when Sandy jumped on it fully grown.

But Serena climbed over the edge and settled in beside her, wrapping an arm around her waist like they’d done this a thousand times before, and Gemma pushed the thought away, because that was then and this was now, and now felt much more important to address.

Their legs brushed together, and Gemma jumped from the contact. “Ah! Sorry—“ It was unavoidable, but Serena was so warm and soft the brief touch made her heart race.

Serena whispered a laugh, and her smile illuminated by the moonlight made Gemma’s heart race even faster.

“It’s alright,” she explained, hushed, “I’ve done this before. Veronica--she never got seasick before, but when she shrunk, it changed her center of gravity. The first few nights we were at sea, I stayed with her here like this.”

“O-Oh,” said Gemma, unable to parse if that actually did set her at ease or not, “was it... easier with her?”

“Easy or not doesn’t matter,” Serena answered, “I just want to protect what’s important to me.”

Something about hearing that made Gemma let go of a breath she hadn’t noticed she’d been holding, and as her mind and lungs reeled, Serena raised her hand to the back of Gemma’s head, stroking her hair idly. She hadn’t realized until now, with her head near tucked under her chin, how much taller than her Serena was--or perhaps, Gemma was projecting confidence onto stature. It wouldn’t be the first time; Erik still refused to tell her his real height because her (apparently wildly incorrect) guess had fed his ego far too much.

“Shh--don’t overthink it,” Serena’s voice grew softer, more soothing than it already was, and Gemma felt her muscles start to lax from that alone, “Just feel. Let yourself relax. I’ve got you.”

Gemma had heard stories of mermaids before, and about how their songs could hypnotize even the most fearsome of sailors the seas had ever seen. Nova had explained that those stories of sirens were greatly exaggerated, but listening to Serena talk, and feeling the way her body gave in to her every kind request, she had to wonder if that was really the case.

Serena had told her to relax, and she did. Serena had said that she had her, and Gemma felt beyond secure. She let her eyes close, to fully immerse herself in the feeling; the scent of a bakery was on Serena’s skin, and a hum buzzed delicately from behind her lips, and Gemma thought--

No. Don’t think. Just feel. And what she felt was...

“...Serena?”

“Yes?”

Gemma nuzzled herself closer to Serena’s chest, as close as she could dare. If she concentrated, she swore she could hear Serena’s heart beat like the beat of a drum, in perfect tune with her voice. “I think you’re amazing, too.”

Serena stilled against her, and for a second, Gemma worried that she’d gone too far, but she was pulled into a tight, warm hug, and the worry ebbed away with the quiet lull of waves.

~~~

“Knock-knock, get the door, it’s Erik.”

Serena looked away from the window--she’d been watching the clouds roll by the rising sun as Gemma slept--and craned her neck towards the door with a smile. “Quiet now, it’s Serena.”

It took a moment of fumbling with the handle before Erik opened the door just a crack, slipping in without so much as a creak. From Serena’s angle, he looked like he’d just woken up, still in his pyjamas and hair more wild and askew than usual. It must have been earlier than she’d thought; Erik was usually one of the first awake, and he put enough care into his appearance to be dressed before anyone could see him this disheveled.

He closed the door behind him with a soft ‘click’, then turned to her with a knowing grin. “How’d I know,” he whispered.

Serena smiled at him, and there was an underlying air of mischief in her smile that she knew he would pick up on, and she whispered back, “Oh, you knew, did you?”

“Not exactly, but I had a pretty good feeling,” Erik shook his head with a sigh, but he wasn’t trying at all to hide his amusement as he made his way over, “Leave it to you to vanish for the night, and then be found cuddling a cute girl.”

“Well, that was just a pleasant surprise. But you and I have always had similar priorities, Erik,” She spoke wisely, knowing full well that she was correct, “I’m impressed Nova let go of you long enough for you to make it here.”

“It’s never easy. Despite what dinner would have you think, he’s incredibly clingy.”

“And it’s great?”

“The best,” He peered over the hammock to look at Gemma, still nestled up underneath Serena’s chin, “Seriously, though. Is she doing alright?”

“Mmn. Much better now,” Serena fiddled with the ends of Gemma hair between her fingers, “I think she was just anxious, is all.”

“That’s seeming more and more like a Cobblestone standard every day. Not that I can blame them.”

“It’s a good thing we’re here for them then, isn’t it?”

Gemma sighed in her sleep, and the two of them fell silent, but it quickly proved to be a false alarm; instead of waking up, she burrowed herself further into the blanket, and into Serena’s arms. Serena beamed at the sight.

“Man,” Erik whispered with a roll of his eyes, “and here I thought I had it bad.”

“You did,” Serena didn’t look up, “You had it worse.”

“Details,” he nudged Serena on the head with one knuckle, drawing her back to look at him, “I’m gonna go get dressed. I’d say you have another two or three hours before breakfast happens.”

“How long before Nova comes to check on her?”

“If we play our cards right? Hopefully he’ll sleep till midday,” Erik raised his fist above her, “I’ll keep him in bed long as I can.”

Serena raised her first in turn, bumping it quietly against Erik’s. “You’ll succeed.”

“Not unless I want to eat, too. But thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“And thank you for yours.”

Erik pulled back, his fist becoming a two-fingered salute, and he stepped away as quietly as he came. The door opened and shut again with barely a sound, and soon enough, the only sound remaining was the quiet crash of waves against the boat, and Gemma’s soft, peaceful breathing.

Serena had to watch her while she slept--to watch the way her lashes fluttered and chest rose and fell, to watch the subtle puff of her cheeks and the way her lips puckered ever so slightly, and Serena had no other option but to smile at the sight.

She already knew that Gemma was amazing, for a multitude of reasons both said and unsaid, and had long since thought that--but it was always nice to see those facts take shape.

#panda does a write #ladies and gentlemen we have entered REAL SEREMMA HOURS #nedryn-laughs #seremma

16 notes · View notes

alsoyouremischievous · 5 years

Text

Sides Carry On

Summary: Roman Prince will do anything to protect the life he’s found through magic. This includes enduring lectures from his best friends Logan and Patton, overcoming his evil roommate Virgil, working for the Mage, and defeating the Insidious Humdrum. His life seems to be set out for him - but things can never be easy, can they?

AO3 Link

Ch. 1 Ch. 2 Ch. 3 Ch. 4

Chapter Five

Roman

The cafeteria is nearly empty save for some of the younger kids, first and second years, loitering with their parents. I catch several of them, the parents and children alike, glancing over at me. The kids will get used to having me around after a couple of weeks but this may be their parents only chance to size me up.

Everyone in the magickal community seemed to know of me and, more importantly, my pertinence to the World of Mages before I was even brought to Watford. There’s a prophecy about me - a few prophecies, really - that says I’m supposed to fix everyone’s problems by being super powerful.

And one will come to end us.

And one will bring his fall.

Let the greatest power of powers reign,

May it save us all.

The Great Mage. The Chosen One. The Power of Powers.

It still hasn’t quite sunk in that I’m meant to be that person. I can’t deny it, certainly. No one else has as much power as I do. I can’t manage it or do anything with it, but it is mine.

By the time I actually showed up most people appeared to have moved on from the old prophecies, assuming they were false or that the Greatest Mage managed to slip by without drawing attention to whatever threat ailed the World of Mages.

It definitely wasn’t expected that the Chosen One would be plucked from the Normal world or that I would be as… defective as I am.

A mage can’t be born to Normal parents.

I must have been though. Logan told me that magicians don’t give up their children, which means there’s no such thing as magical orphans. Magic is too valued for anyone to give away a magical child.

I wasn’t aware of any of this at first - not that I was the first magician born to a Normal, not that I was astronomically more powerful than other magicians, and definitely not that some people thought I was made up by The Mage for political sway. The Mage never mentioned any of it and so I had to learn as I went.

At the start, right after I first arrived, there was a lot of people from the Old Families that wanted me to be formally introduced so everyone could check me out in person. The Mage didn’t let it happen obviously - he was far too aware of how most magicians get so focused on their own agendas they lose sight of the important things. “I won’t see you becoming anyone’s pawn, Roman.”

It’s a good thing that he was so cautious. As much as it would be nice to fit in a bit more in the magical community and know more people - well, I made my own friends. Even better I made my friends young, way before any of them became too concerned with whether I was the Chosen One or not.

Of course, my so-called celebrity status really doesn’t make people flock to me as everyone knows that there is a tendency for things to blow up around me. No people have ever blown up yet though, and that’s got to count towards something.

In any case, the staring from across the room is nothing new and it doesn’t bother me all that much.

Considering that we attend an exclusive boarding school, one fancy enough to have it’s own cathedral and moat, we really aren’t all that spoiled. Everyone manages their own cleaning, and past fourth year we even do our own laundry. Magic is allowed for chores, but I don’t bother with it. We have a cook - his names Steve - who does the cooking with some assistance and everyone takes turns serving at mealtimes. Weekends are help yourself style though.

Logan grabs us a plate of cheese sandwiches and I nab a mountain of sour cherry scones. When we settle at our table I start spreading the butter on my scones in thick slabs so that it melts towards the edges but leaves a cold bite in the center and Logan watches me with a look of disdain on his face. He’s also looking at me like he missed me though, so I imagine he can’t be too disgusted.

“Don’t hold back,” I say once I’ve torn through the first scone, “what was your summer like?”

“It was satisfactory.”

“Yeah?” Crumbs fly everywhere. I pretend not to notice.

“I visited Chicago with my father,” he says, leaning forward slightly. I can’t help but notice that even though it’s only been months since I’ve seen him he looks different. More grown up.

“I find myself much more interested in your summer, however,” he adds. I can tell he’s been waiting for an opening to begin his interrogation and I’ve just handed it right to him.

“Are you permitted to tell me what occurred?” he presses.

“What do you mean?”

He scoffs. “This summer,” he motions impatiently.

I shrug. “Nothing happened this summer, Logan.”

He leans back, sighing. “It was not in my control that I went to America, Roman. I did try to stay, you must be aware.”

“No, there’s nothing to tell. I’m not holding back. You left and so did everyone else. I went back into care - It was Liverpool this time.

“You mean to inform me that the Mage truly just sent you away? After everything that happened?” Logan looks confused, which isn’t a common expression for him. I can’t blame him though.

After barely escaping a kidnapping I hadn’t expected the Mage to send me away either.

I thought that when he heard what happened he would want to attack the Humdrum straight away. We knew where the monster was and we knew what it looked like - it seemed like a no brainer that we would use that to our advantage.

We finally had a lead. After years of the Insidious Humdrum hiding in the shadows, sending dark creatures to attack Watford and leaving dead spots scattered throughout the magickal atmosphere.

I wanted him found. I wanted him punished. I wanted everything to finally be over, and I thought that we could do that, the Mage and I.

I must look as lost as I feel because Logan clears his throat and changes the subject. “Have you spoken to Patton?”

My next scone has cooled and the butter doesn’t melt. Logan holds up his hand, casting a quick “some like it hot! ” while he waits for my answer.

I will never understand why he insists on wasting his magic on me like this. The butter melts into the now steaming scone and I’m forced to toss it from hand to hand.

“You know that Patton’s not supposed to talk to me during the summer.”

“Well I thought that perhaps he would find a way around it this time,” Logan says. “In order to try and explain himself to you.”

I let the scorching scone drop to the plate. “He wouldn’t disobey the Mage. Or his parents. Besides It’s not as though I can control who he talks to.” If there’s a touch of bitterness in my voice, well, that’s my problem.

“That is it then? We’ve made absolutely no progress at all? This was just another regular summer? What on earth are we meant to do now?” Normally I would be the one feeling so belligerent, but I’ve had all summer to adjust my view.

“I assume we go back to school,” I say, gesturing around us.

***

Logan follows me back to my room again when we’ve finished eating. When I ask him why he's spending so much time in my room he claims that it’s unjust that I don’t share my superior living accommodations.

“I live with a vampire!” I exclaim in protest.

“Unconfirmed”

I scoff. “Are you really trying to say that you don’t believe Virgil’s a vampire?”

“I know that Virgil is a vampire,” he says. “But it is still unconfirmed, given that we have never seen him drink blood.”

“We haven’t caught him in the act, no, but we’ve found piles of dead, drained rats that were bitten in the catacombs. Hell, we’ve seen him covered in blood! And have I mentioned that when he has bad dreams his cheeks get all puffed up - like his mouth doesn’t have room for his fangs?”

“Circumstantial evidence,” Logan asserts. “What did possess you to sneak up on a vampire, one with night terrors nonetheless?”

“I live with the guy! I’ve got to be prepared for anything.”

His eyes roll behind his glasses. “There is nothing you could do to make Virgil harm you whilst you are in your room.”

He’s not wrong. Virgil can’t hurt me so long as we’re here. Every room is spelled against betrayal. It’s called the roommate’s anathema. If either of us were to do something to physically hurt each other within our room we would be cast out of Watford. Patton’s Dad, Dr. Wellbelove, claims that it happened to one of his classmates. Some poor idiot hit his roommate and was pulled straight out his window and launched out of the school gates. They didn’t open for him ever again.

There are warnings of course, for when you’re younger. Until the end of second year if you try to hurt your roommate your hands go numb and lock in place. I chucked a book at Virgil once and it took three whole days for my hand to go back to normal - it looked like a claw, permanently curled the way it was.

Virgil never even once violated the anathema.

“Well we don’t know what he could do while he’s sleeping,” I say.

He smirks. “You do. Considering how much you watch him.”

“I live with a dark creature! I’ve got a right to be paranoid!”

When dinner rolls around we head to the dining hall to grab it and then bring it all back to my room to eat there. We never get to hang out like this when Virgil’s here.

It feels liberating. The two of us with nothing to do, nowhere to go and no one to fight or hide from. Logan claims that this is what it will be like when we get an apartment together. I have my doubts that it will ever happen. It’s a good thought though - living long enough to have to figure out what to do with myself.

Logan finishes his meal and the first thing he does is brush off his fingers and say, “Right.”

“No…” I groan. “Not yet, please.”

“I do not understand. What do you mean by, ‘not yet’?”

“We’ve just got here, Logan! I’m still settling in, please don’t start with the strategizing already!”

His eyes roam the bare room. “I am having difficulty determining what it is exactly that you have to settle.”

“I,” I begin, reaching over to grab his leftover sausages, “am enjoying the peace and quiet.”

“There is no peace. Only quiet,” Logan says seriously. “It is discomfiting. We need a plan.”

“There is peace, though. Virgil isn’t here yet, and look,” I exclaim, waving his fork around. “There’s nothing attacking us.”

“You were just the victim of a goblin attack, Roman.” Logan looks unimpressed.

“Having been out of commission for two months does not mean that the war has stopped or that the Humdrum is any less a threat.”

I groan again. “You sound like the Mage.”

“It makes no sense to me that he left you without contact all summer.”

“He’s probably too busy with ‘the war’” I mutter.

Logan sighs and his hands fold in front of himself as though he’s a teacher waiting for a student to become reasonable.

He’s just going to have to wait.

The war.

There’s really no sense in talking about it at this point. It will come when it comes and there’s nothing to be done about it. It isn’t even just the one war, really, but three all on the brink of breaking out. There’s the civil war that’s brewing, ancient animosities with the dark creatures being stirred up, and of course the issue of the Insidious Humdrum.

I must look miserable because Logan actually relents.

“Well, the war will still be present tomorrow,” he says, looking away from me.

We both settle in on my bed for a while as he rambles about airplanes and American politics. He falls asleep halfway through explaining the differences between American and British spellcrafting.

“Logan?” He doesn’t answer. I nudge his shoulder a bit. “ Lo!”

“What?” he moans into my pillow.

“You’ve got to get back to your room.”

“I do not have to do anything,” he glares up at me sleepily.

“Yes, you do. You could get suspended if you’re found in the wrong room, disrespecting the crucible.”

“Let it happen. I could use the free time for my experiments.” He shuffles around so he’s facing the wall. “Goodnight Roman.”

I grin. I can’t help it - it’s simply too good to be back.

I glance over at Virgil’s bed. Sleeping there would be inviting trouble for sure. I settle in to sleep next to Logan, wishing I could change into my school pajamas without disturbing him.

Virgil always brings his pajamas from home, but I prefer the school ones. I never wear pajamas when I’m at the juvenile centers though - they leave me feeling too vulnerable - so it’s no great sacrifice to sleep in my day clothes.

I drift off to the sound of Logan’s breathing.

I’m not sure what time it is when I wake up but the moonlight is filtering in from the window and Logan’s arm is thrown across my stomach.

I notice a figure standing by the window, and at first, I think Virgil has arrived. Then they shift and I’m sure it’s a woman.

Then I decide I’m dreaming and I go back to sleep.

Linda

I have so much I want to tell you.

But time is short.

And my voice doesn’t carry.

Chapter six

#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #roman sanders #logan sanders #logince #patton sanders #virgil sanders #lamp #my fic #lamp/calm

6 notes · View notes