#will call the vet tomorrow. just. urg. my girl :( | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bigspoonstyles · 3 years

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lesson learned

pairing: Harry x OC (unnamed) challenge: @meetmeinfleetwood‘s to lovers fic challenge -> exes to lovers

warnings: the beginnings of maybe smut?

In his near thirty years of life, Harry has admittedly fallen victim to many a fleeting lifestyle phase, and he’s decided the club scene is one he’s tired of. The music is loud, the drinks are weak, and even for a post pandemic world there are far too many people for his liking.

He’s sitting in what once was his usual booth in the corner of The Nice Guy and the ice in his tequila is melting quickly, the crystal tumbler too warm in his hands. Harry’s eyes fall to the far side of the makeshift dance floor once again and he willingly accepts that he could never tire of her.

He’s caught her eye only once but is more than happy to just watch, their last run-in awkward and stale and over a year ago. She’s been quiet the past year, having gone off the grid for most of quarantine citing in one of the few interviews she’d given, her choice to ‘live in the moment’.

And god, he’s missed her.

She, like Harry, would prefer to live without constant public scrutiny, but while they’ve both gone through great lengths to protect their privacy and relationships, he knows being sequestered has been hard on her. He recalls the last time she’d locked away with Harry in his LA home, accessible to only each other and the select few who were allowed through their phones’ Do Not Disturb feature, and his lips tip into a small smile. Their dishes littered his sink for days, her toothbrush leaned against his on his bathroom counter. There was a wet spot that adorned his right shoulder nearly every night after she’d fallen asleep mid-movie, freshly showered. But he knows the sore difference between waking up each morning wrapped around her with his face buried in her hair, and a yearlong forced isolation, very much alone.

He watches as she closes her eyes, arms above her head and face to the ceiling, laughing, dancing around the elite group with which she’d arrived. Judging by the way she moves carelessly through the crowds of people, he knows she’s feeling confident. She feels beautiful. She’s not worried that she’s laughing too loudly or taking up too much space, and he suddenly finds himself grateful for the few people who’ve kept her trust and privacy despite her climb to fame; even if they were the same friends he found quite insufferable to be around.

He downs the last of his drink before Jeff joins the table, phone in hand, answering his final email of the evening. “Ready to head out, man?” he calls out over the music. “Glenne’s home and I’m not inclined to keep her waiting too long.”

Harry grins knowing if he were in Jeff’s shoes, new bride waiting up into the early morning hours, he’d have already called the evening. But there’s no one waiting. So he shakes his head no and returns his gaze to the center floor; to his dismay, she’s gone.

Jeff follows his eye line and hides a smile. “She’s by the bar,” he points to the L shaped marbled counter top to their left.

Harry spots her right away, back to him, pulling her wavy locks into a mock ponytail and away from the back of her neck. Her friends lean in for hugs goodbye and she’s left alone waiting for the bartender to return with a drink – a fruit infused vodka soda no doubt. “I think I’m saying fo’ a bit,” he answers without breaking gaze. “Can call a car.”

Jeff returns attention to his phone, forwarding Harry the number of a newly contracted car service. “Ted’s on call tonight. Just call when you’re ready. They’re all vetted and they’ve signed the privacy agreements.”

Harry throws a quick final glance to the table and booth and makes his way to the bar with his empty glass.

He arrives just as the bartender slides her drink across the counter, adorned with a skewer of colorful fruit and a fuchsia blossom garnish. She accepts with a smile and her eyes close in appreciation as she sips from the side of the glass. Harry bites the inside of his cheek to stop from remarking when the bartender lingers longer than he deems acceptable. With a palm to the warm, exposed skin of her lower back, he gets his point across and the man disappears to the back with an armful of nearly empty liquor bottles.

She turns slowly and tilts her head as she faces him, clearly unsurprised by the hand lingering at her side or the man attached to it. “Hey,” she offers quietly with a half-smile. “Wondered how long it’d take you.”

Her cheeks are tinged pink and expression glassy, and he pulls out a chair gesturing for her to sit. She has rarely over-indulged in alcohol publicly for obvious reasons, but he’s always found it endearing when she’s had just one too many. He liked her happy and carefree. And honest.

“Left alone, eh?” his head bobs toward the front entrance.

“Yeah,” she sighs, sagging slightly into the seat. “They’re headed downtown,” her thumb juts toward the Fairfax District, “and I’m staying down by the Marina.” She pulls the dark petals from her garnish distractedly. “Headed back to New York tomorrow. It’s just easier.”

“’t’s a good half hour ride,” Harry glances at his watch. “Leaving soon? Someone comin’ for yeh?”

She smiles into her drink at his concern. He’s genuine, and she gazes up fondly, finding his brows knit together awaiting an answer. “I’ll call a car in a few. Don’t worry about me, H.” She straightens and smooths out the creases in her cotton dress. “I’m sure I can get myself back to the apartment just fine.”

“But can you get up the stairs?” he asks, only half-jokingly. His arms reach easily out to steady her as she loses footing, his left hand returning to the small of her back, his right gently cupped under her elbow. He clears his throat to conceal his smile when she gazes up at him sheepishly. “What time is your flight?”

“Two, I think.” Her answer lacks conviction, eyes narrow in concentration. “Either two or two-thirty.”

“Could come home with me,” he shrugs. “Only a few minutes from here, ‘nd could get yeh back with plenty of time to catch your flight.” He ushers her closer as patrons abandon their stools and head for the exit. When he gazes down at her, she’s worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. “Come on,” he urges, hands coming up quickly to her eye level, fingers outstretched to show a hands-off approach. “Can take the couch if you want.”

She laughs airily, smacking his chest with the back of her hand. “An empty offer from a man with two guest suites.” She finds it harder to keep balance in her heeled shoes and uses Harry’s left arm to steady herself. “If you could just get me into a car, I’ll be ok.”

Harry’s lips turn into a thin line, and he shakes his head in refusal. “Not shovin’ yeh in a car alone. ‘t’s up to you – my place or yours?”

She looks up at him through heavy lids and a slightly fuzzier mind than when she had embarked on this conversation. A part of her is instantly relieved by his straightened back and hardened features. He’s always been on the right side of overprotective and she knows she’s nothing but safe with him.

But there’s an innate fear that causes her chest to tighten and her eyes dart towards the door. “They can’t see, H,” she whispers, unease seeping through her tone.

He knows that the idea of walking with him through the throng of paparazzi just outside the entrance is enough to cause a breakdown and, even without seeing the panic set in her eyes, he’s already fishing his phone out of the inner pocket of his suit jacket. “’ll take care of it, pet,” he says slowly.

And she believes him.

Harry slips her through a rarely used back door, his jacket stripped from his back and used to shield her from prying eyes, just in case. He holds the back door of the black SUV open and guides her into the plush seat, relaxing only once fully shielded by the black tinted windows.

She tucks herself into his side, head lolled against his shoulder; his right arm stretches out behind her, hand gripping her would-he head rest. She accepts the water bottle he pushes on her but forgoes drinking from it, afraid the inevitable spill would give away how dizzy she truly feels.

Harry helps their driver navigate the back streets to ensure the fastest way to his place, silently checking on the girl curled into him, knees knocking with each pothole and turn.

“Look pretty tonight,” he murmurs in her direction. “Always liked this dress.” He musses the soft fabric of her skirt between his fingers. His right arm abandons the back seat to fall against her shoulders, pulling her in just close enough that he can smell her. He welcomes the scent, inhaling deeply, but it’s an unsolicited reminder that it’s been long washed from his sheets, and his life, for well over a year.

“I know,” she smiles, eyes still closed. “Took a shot.”

His chest vibrates with deep laughter, “Minx,” he accuses playfully. “Not quite playing fair, eh?”

She can feel his eyes on her, but she’s far too tired to even think about moving. “I’m sorry, H,” she whispers. “I’m sorry I didn’t call. Said we’d call.”

“Both did,” he answers gruffly. “Phone works both ways.”

She smiles dreamily. “I never said congratulations. The Grammys?” She wraps her arm around his waist and nuzzles in a bit closer. “I’m sorry I didn’t call. I’m so proud of you.”

His cheek rest atop her head, “I know.”

“If I’d called,” she asks into his chest, “would you have answered?”

His mouth falls open in shock. “Hey,” he tilts her head up to meet his gaze. “Of course I’d answer.”

He’s staring down at her in disbelief, and she feels so small, nerves getting the best of her; she’s afraid she’s started a conversation she’s not ready to have. At least - not in the backseat of a foreign SUV, plastered against him, her palms burning to feel his skin through his thin button down.

His lips are slightly parted into a pout and he looks determined to get something out of her, but she chooses instead to let her eyes fall to the two black swallows that peek out from behind his collar. “You can’t kiss me,” she says tiredly. Her head lolls back against him silently cursing herself.

She’s a coward.

“Never said I wanted to, love.” His attention turns to the streetlights through the light-blocked window. His grip on her however, doesn’t falter.

“I wanted you to,” she sighs softly, her face burying back into his side.

But it’s just loud enough to make him feel like a proper dick.

___________________

She wakes up warm, the sun seeping through the thick open slats of the faux wood blinds, and in soft sheets that glide across her bare skin like silk. Her head doesn’t throb as she’d expected, but she imagines it’s because of the aspirin and nearly empty bottle of water she finds on the bedside table. No doubt Harry had coaxed her to take pre-emptive measures before putting her to bed. She can almost hear him softly begging, “For me?”

She takes in the room, her dress neatly hung on the back of the bedroom door, and takes stock of her current state. She’s dressed in a pair of her old boxer shorts, and a long-sleeved henley, both of which she recognizes as garb she’s long ago stolen from Harry. She smiles to herself as she picks at the small wear holes scattered around the checkered flannel fabric; she’d worn these boxers almost nightly for months.

After a full body stretch and check of the time, she begrudgingly abandons the sheets in search of her phone and hopefully a much-needed shower. She finds her phone charging on Harry’s bureau propped up against the small crystal dish that holds his most commonly worn rings. There are too many notifications on her lock screen to worry about, but the most recent one is a text from Harry.

Don’t leave. Getting coffee. Be back soon.

- H

She rolls her eyes at his automatic signature, as if anyone he’s texting doesn’t have him programmed in their phone; she leaves the myriad of other messages unread. Her flight doesn’t board for hours, so she justifies taking advantage of Harry’s water pressure would be time well spent.

There’s a small pile of folded clothes on the bathroom sink counter, the shirt Harry’s, but the shorts hers. Clean towels are hung by the shower head.

His shower is as amazing as she remembers, the hot water beating out kinks in her neck that she swears have been there for months. His facewash and hair products are readily available for use at the corner of the tub basin and she revels in the smell. Everything he owns is luxurious, down to the lather of his shampoo. She had always been grateful that when her time was split between the east and west coasts she’d never worried about traveling with self-care products.

In truth, she’d never felt more cared for than when she was with Harry.

She hears the front door close and the faint beep of the perimeter alarm arm from the en suite, so she dries off and dresses quickly, joining him in the kitchen still squeezing her hair dry with a fluffy white towel. When she sees him dressed casually, bustling barefoot around the kitchen island with iced coffee and a to-go bag with what she assumes carries breakfast options, her breath hitches. His hair is still damp from a shower and a stubborn curl is threatening to spill into his face.

“Thank you,” she says reading the printed tag on her cup; the milk and sweetener options are right down to a t. She tosses her wet towel on the back of a tall kitchen chair, opting to hoist herself onto the bare counter space to the right of the sink, blessed coffee in hand.

“Sleep ok?”, he asks, moving to wash his hands.

“Very,” she sighs, arching her back in search of that desired pop to relieve her lower back tension. “Miss that bed.” Her eyes widen the second the words leave her mouth, and she nearly chokes. “Sorry,” she mumbles, completely flush with embarrassment.

Harry shrugs it off with a chuckle, “It’s a good bed. Cost a small fortune.”

“Is that breakfast?” she asks, desperate for a subject change. “I’m starving. I completely skipped dinner,” she admits.

“It is,” he confirms. “Guess that explains a bit about last night then?”

“Too much pregaming and not enough carbs,” she groans. Her eyes follow his hands as he dries them on a white dish towel, paying close attention to the rings adorning his fingers. “Will I ever learn?” she feigns exasperation.

“And who’s gonna drag you home from your late nights back in New York, hmm?”

She breaks her gaze to roll her eyes, “I’ll be fine, H.” She takes to absently chewing her straw as he rests a hip against the counter to her left. “Been on my own for bit.”

He sees her face fall at the mention of her sole failed relationship since Harry. “I heard,” he discloses. “’M sorry. What happened?”

Her eyes narrow and she tries scrutinizing his motives, but she knows he’s never been insincere. “Didn’t want the same things, I guess,” she shrugs. “You know, marriage, kids. Important things.”

Harry’s jaw clenches, bitter, knowing he’d quite literally run to the altar if she’d let him. “He’s an idiot. He’ll figure it out soon enough.”

Her eyes fly up to his, mouth slightly open. “Wait no,” she denies. “Not him. Me – I didn’t want,” she pauses in search for the right words, but fails on an awkward huff. “I didn’t want those things.”

“Since when?” he challenges. “I distinctly remember agreeing to a ‘no bolo tie’ rule not that long ago.” He’s teasing, but she’s white knuckling the counter’s edge and completely ready to run. He moves to block her exit, unwilling to let her take an easy out, stance wide and demanding.

His head dips low enough to catch her eye and she looks defeated. “With him, I guess,” she whispers. “Didn’t want those things with him.”

Harry exhales loudly, but when she peers up at him his face is soft and searching. “What’s the plan in New York? Back to work?”

“No plans,” she concedes. Her legs uncross, a once silent invitation for Harry to join her, and she adjusts herself to sit straighter. Taller. “I’ve got a dinner planned next Wednesday with management. Just in time to get reamed for whatever pictures surface from last night, I’m sure.”

“No paps,” Harry shakes his head with confidence. “Called Jeff. Made sure there’s nothing comin’ down the line. ‘S all good.”

She stares at him with admiration, overwhelmed by the gesture. She slowly extends her hands, palms up, in a token of appreciation. He eagerly accepts, taking a single stride into her cautious embrace; she’d always fallen short with verbal expression, but Harry had never been one to deny her physical touch. “Thank you,” she smiles softly, her hands slowly inching up the tanned skin of his forearms, her glossy, pale nails stopping just short of his tattoos. “I think I should get going, though,” she stammers. “Still have to pack up my stuff, and my stuff is everywhere.” She nervously runs her fingers through her damp locks and clicks her tongue as she works out a knot. “I’ll take a bagel for the road though,” she winks.

“Could stay,” he offers lowly. Harry watches as her breathing goes shallow and he tenses. If she denies him now, it just might kill him. “Said you hadn’t any real plans, so, could stay…if you wanted.”

She’s acutely aware that his face is inching closer to hers, and she blinks slowly as his hands grip the counter on either side of her, taking the final step between her parted knees. “You want me to stay?” she asks quietly.

“Not really a fair question,” he counters. “Didn’t exactly want you to leave in the first place, now did I?”

She lets her gaze follow her hands to his chest with a sigh. “That’s not fair, H,” she argues gently. “It wasn’t working. It was too much.”

“Could be different now. Could be better.”

“You think?” she questions, her bottom lip tucked behind her front teeth. “How?”

“Been talking to Cass, have loads of ideas,” he beams proudly. His therapist had been his saving grace during the pandemic; he’d mostly done phone meetings with her, but they’d had a limited number of in person meets.

“You still talk to Cassie?”

“Not as much since things have gone back to normal, but I make time to call her a few times a month.” Harry had always been open about his self-help regimens, therapy included. “Like that wet towel on my chair,” he shrugs his shoulders coolly, “no big deal. Leave it there. See if I care.”

“Oh yeah? You like that?” she laughs as he nods excitedly. “If you like that, you should go look at the bed I didn’t make.” She throws her head back in laughter, wincing only slightly when it collides with the wooden cabinet door behind her.

Harry’s hand flies up to soothe the sting at her crown, callused fingers massaging away any hurt. “Could stay,” he repeats, fingers slowing. His other hand tucks the stray hair behind her ear and his fingers linger on the delicate skin above her collarbone. “Could stay with me.”

Every part of her is waiting to be kissed, her eyes closing slowly, and Harry drops his mouth to hers with the lightest of kisses. She accepts with a smile, making no moves to deepen it, but her hands reach up to clasp together at the nape of his neck, fingers playing with the baby curls he’s been growing out for months. He drops a final light peck to the corner of her mouth before slowly moving downwards, her head falling back further into his hand allowing him ample access to kiss the soft skin on the column of her throat.

She mewls and it encourages him further, and he finds the soft spot below her ear where he can feel her pulse quicken against his lips. “Shut up,” she gasps when he smiles against her, his day old stubble the dead giveaway.

When he kisses her again, she lets him into her mouth on a hum, but Harry pulls away suddenly with a quirked brow and a cheeky grin. “Did you use my toothbrush?”

She opens her mouth to counter, but just buries her face in her hands in embarrassment. “My teeth were filmy!” she whines.

He’s laughing wholeheartedly at her, utterly happy at her perceived level of comfort in his home. “What’s mine is yours, love,” he pulls at her hands to expose her and reattach his lips to her. He moves to pull her closer to the counter’s edge and bring her body flush with his before his hands travel to the exposed skin of her thighs.

“Keep going,” she pleads breathily.

Harry groans as he pushes the loose fabric of her shorts aside and finds the warmth awaiting his fingers. “Always good for me,” he breathes out, head falling to her shoulder. “Too good for me.”

“Please.” She bucks closer to him, her body aching for release.

“So you’ll stay,” he decides. He’s leaving open mouthed, wet kisses down her throat in between words, his fingers slick with her, curling easily into her core in the way he knows drives her crazy. “You’ll stay. Can take your drawer back if you like,” he bargains. “If you’re nice t’ me, might even get you your own toothbrush.”

Her hands tighten and grab at his curls as he continues his assault on her surely bruising skin. “If you didn’t have two fingers inside of me right now,” she stutters, “I’d kick you in the shins.” Her words are void of any real threat and he can feel her fighting for control, her legs tightening around his hips, breath ragged in his ear.

Harry withdraws his touch, smiling when she complains at the loss of contact. He straightens her shorts and extends a hand to help her off down from her perch. “Time to learn how to make a proper bed, pet.”

She jumps down on a huff and walks straight by him down the hall leaving Harry’s mouth agape. “I think,” she muses playfully, “we should start right at the very beginning, right? Gotta strip the sheets off and start from scratch?”

“Sounds like a plan to me,” he follows like a puppy at her heels. “Whatever you say.”

__________________

A/N: welcome to my initial venture in writing for this fandom. I haven’t written fiction in literal years, so this one was a feat. But I had fun, so thank you Sadie for the challenge! I made the deadline with literal seconds to spare. :)

-MK

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles x oc #to lovers fic challenge #my writing #harry styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles smut #harry styles imagine

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hanjizung · 4 years

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♡ Vet's Kitten. ♡

Lee Minho x Reader.

Word count: 4.2k

♡ Warnings ♡: smut, fingering, penetrative sex, clothed sex (kinda) protected sex, pet name, and a little bit of aftercare, cockwarming & praising.

A/n: i was supposed to post this yesterday but my internet went out ayhubdnjka im sorry. i hope you enjoy this! ♡

You had always loved animals, all kinds of animals. Be it a cat, a dog, a lizard or a turtle, you were always fascinated by it.

That's why you decided to major as a veterinarian, because your biggest wish was to help them, you couldn't spare to see them suffer. And luckily for you, when you were in your last semester of college, life was looking promising.

You sent your resume to some pet hospitals around the city, a few of them called you and asked you to have an interview, and after the interview you had to choose between two places.

You ended up choosing the one closest to your house, because you could go walking there.

That, and because your new boss besides looking like a cold man, he showed that he really cared about animals. That's what really convinced you to work there. He seemed like he didn't care about anyone, but when he interviewed you he was actually nice. He was incredibly handsome too, but that was only a bonus because you wouldn't dare to make a move on him.

"I'm Lee Minho, the owner" he said, taking your hand to shake it as a formal greeting and with a smile.

Shaking your head, you came back to the real world. You dozed off to the memories of when you started working a few weeks ago.

Right now, you were ordered to do the inventory of the store. The day hadn't been as busy as others, a few people coming in to their pet's shot appointments.

You observed carefully as Minho took the needle and injected the cute puppy shaking in the metal table, your eyebrows furrowed analyzing the process and looking at your boss maneuver with the filled needle.

He smiled and closed the door behind the customer when they left, sighing in satisfaction as the day came to an end.

He crossed his look with your, the smile never leaving his face.

"Y/N, I need you to do something else before we close" he talked, approaching you and taking your hand in his. You couldn’t help the blush growing in your cheeks at the contact Minho made with you, making you stare at his hold in your hand to hide your burning face from him.

Your boss cleared his throat, then continued what he was saying: "I know it's late, but we need to get the inventory done before tomorrow at 10 am, and then you can leave. I promise that you can take the day tomorrow if it takes a lot of time…"

You simply nodded at his request, taking your clipboard to count the inventory more comfortably. He smiled at you and waited for you to walk out of his office before him, like a true gentleman, and then he turned off the light and closed the door behind him.

...Something you found quite strange, because he always made sure to close the door before closing.

You shrugged it off, maybe he was going to bring something from another room to his office and check it more carefully.

You made your way to the storage room, feeling your boss's eyes following you. You resisted the urge to look back at him, tightening your grip on the clipboard. You didn't know when Minho left, but when you turned to close the door he wasn't there looking at you anymore.

You stayed in silence, concentrating on the outside noise. There he was. He told the rest of customers and staff that they could leave home, that he would clean for a bit before closing.

One of the friends you made, Hyunjin, asked if you already went home, but Minho told her that he needed you to do something before closing that couldn't wait. He assured your tall friend that he would walk you home to make sure you arrived safely.

Deciding you had heard enough, you finally started counting everything in the cellar.

Time passed, you didn't know how long you were in there counting and moving things, a thin layer of sweat covered your forehead, but after counting and writing down the results you sighed tiredly, walking out of the cellar to the reception of the store.

The place was empty, you could see the dark streets being illuminated by the moonlight through the glass doors. It looked peaceful, but for some reason you couldn't help but shiver at the thought of walking alone with Minho to your house.

You turned and walked through the 'staff only' door that allowed you to go to Minho's office. Outside, you could see the light still on through the closed window and from under the door. You stood outside the door doubting if you should knock to let him know you were done.

After inhaling and exhaling, getting mentally ready to let your boss know you wanted to go home and sleep peacefully, your first came in contact with the door softly, one, two times.

"Ah, Y/N. Come on in" you heard him.

You did as he told, clipboard still in hand pressed to your chest.

There he was, reading some documents you believed were all the diagnosis made through the week.

He placed the folder on the desk, looking at you through his reading glasses and signaling you to sit on the chair in front of him. You plopped down tiredly and gave him the clipboard, sighing quietly.

"Thank you, Y/N. You have no idea how thankful I am that you managed to finish this in time for tomorrow" Minho commented, leaving the object you had just handed him behind, after looking at it quickly and standing up.

Your gaze was fixed on the clipboard resting alone on the desk, annoyed that all the hard work you put into the paper was being ignored, but your train of thought got lost when Minho's hands found place on your shoulders, squeezing gently and making your head fall back slightly.

"I'm sorry you're so tired after doing the inventory…" your boss murmured, looking at you through his glasses, his beautiful brown eyes hiding a glint of something unknown to you.

"It's okay, I was just doing what I was asked to do" you cleared your throat to talk, but you couldn't recognize your voice, the volume in which you had said that was low and shy, as if your voice was shaking and betraying you.

You couldn't help the blush in your cheeks when Minho smirked, his hands massaging your shoulders and making you sigh in satisfaction at the sensation.

"Poor Y/N, working until late at night because her boss asked her, and as the little good girl that she is she didn't complain, that's an excellent girl. I think she deserves a reward for doing a great job" the words he was using made you blush, his hands working on your shoulders, squeezing and moving around weren't helping you get rid of the burning in your face.

"What do you say, Y/N? Would you like me to reward you for the good job you've been doing or do you wanna go straight home?" he stopped his motions, walking to his chair behind the desk, sitting in front of you, his face with a mysterious smile. You knew there was something else behind those words, but the way he was talking to you, his eyes and his smile… You wanted to say yes, without thinking about it.

You had needs, that you did for sure. And since you started working your intimate life was somewhat… lacking.

It didn't help that you had the most handsome boss in the world. The man was sexy, he did things to you, and you couldn't keep lying to yourself anymore. Even when he was doing the simplest thing he managed to look ethereally gorgeous.

He could be sitting in his office, typing something on his computer, legs crossed and your mind would wander, asking how nice it must feel to sit on his lap and maybe kiss him, or to straddle him and grind against his cock. But then he would look at you and smile, bringing you out of your trance with innumerable fantasies about him, your face hot and tones darker in your cheeks in embarrassment.

Yes, Minho did things to you, most days of the week you had to take care of yourself and the insufferable wetness between your legs.

Swallowing, you blinked and nodded your head.

"Yes, please. I want a reward, I've been doing a great job lately…" your voice got lost at the ending of the sentence, but it seemed like Minho perfectly understood what you said, his smile grew bigger and his eyebrows furrowed, looking like he was pitying you for being neglected so far.

"It's okay, kitten. I'll give you the best reward" he said. He indicated you to walk to him, and like you got so used to doing, you followed his orders.

He tugged your arm gently for you to sit on his lap, hugging your waist to keep you in place while his other hand wandered along your leg, his fingers sending a tingling sensation to your back.

Your lips parted, he was looking intensely at you, making you feel small and shy in a way you hadn't ever felt before. Your body relaxed, a signal that he could do whatever he wanted to you.

Slowly, Minho's hand rested on your thigh, the hand on your waist abandoned its spot and he held your face gently as he made you look at him, your eyes focused on Minho's and your breath trapped in your throat. This was the only opportunity you had to be this close to him. Closing the distance, you kissed him sweetly, one of your hands on his shoulder and the other on his chest playing with the buttons on his shirt. You sighed in your head when you felt him correspond to your kiss, his lips moving against yours.

You separated from him when you felt the lack of oxygen in your lungs, a thread of saliva connecting you both. Your eyes opened to see his own, they looked darker, a flame of something shining in them.

The hand on your cheek moved to the back of your neck and pulled you so he could kiss you again, harsher this time, like if he were starving for your lips only. The still hand placed on your thigh started moving up and down your skirt, raking his nails on your exposed skin and making you shiver.

Minho separated from you, making you whimper for the loss of warmth on your lips, he smiled and pulled you close, biting your lower lip playfully, you smiled when you felt his teeth biting you, your eyes closed. And then he started kissing down your jaw to your neck, pulling your hair back to expose more of your neck to him.

The hand on your neck crawled to the roots of your hair, grabbing a fist of it and yanking your head backwards, a moan escaping from your lips at the sudden motion. His other hand made you separate your thighs, which you happily did as you anticipated what was about to come next.

His fingers came in contact with your aching sex, the friction of his digits rubbing your clit made you moan loudly, trembling on his lap as he bit another hickey in your neck.

Minho was driving you crazy, you had to hold onto his shoulders to not fall from your position on his lap, he noticed you struggling and handled you so your back was against his chest, each of your legs hanging from the sides of the chair, all spread for his fingers to work on you just like you wanted.

He pushed your panties to the side with one hand, his other one caressing the inside of your thigh, keeping it in place just in case you felt the need to close your legs.

Minho touched carefully, his fingers separating your folds and touching you where you needed him the most. A quiet moan was heard inside the room, and your hand flew to your mouth to try and stop all the sounds coming from you.

Minho stopped what he was doing, taking your hand from your mouth and guiding it to your nether regions, where he was working.

"Is my kitten shy? Don't be, baby, I wanna hear you… I wanna hear you scream my name when I make you cum" Minho said, his voice in a low tone as he spoke against your ear so you could hear him clearly. You couldn't help the wetness growing between your legs, this side of Minho was something you would've never imagined, and you were living for it, for everything.

Your finger shyly played with your folds just like his had done before, but you looked up to him, a disappointed look obvious in your eyes.

"What's the problem, kitten? Are your fingers not enough to please you? You want me to do it for you, hmm?* He said, taking your hand with his left one and holding it in place against your chest, his right hand continuing to work on you, passing his finger through your slit, massaging your bud and teasing your entrance.

"M-Minho… Please…" you cried out, your free hand tugging the right sleeve of his shirt as you sighed in frustration when he slapped your pussy gently, making you squeal.

"Please what, kitten?" he asked nonchalantly.

"Your fingers… I need them, no– I need to have you inside me, Minho…" you whimpered. You left out a choked moan when you felt him push his middle finger inside you, your warm walls embracing his lonely digit.

You moved your hips looking for some action, but he hugged your waist to keep you still above him.

At this point you were squirming, the way his finger worked inside you, looking for your most sensitive spot and his thumb massaging your clit in circles, helping you reach your high more and more.

Minho inserted a second finger inside your warm insides, your back arching against his chest when his fingers started moving in scissoring motions, until it was too much sensations for you to take in and your walls started to clench around his fingers, making him moan about how tight you were hugging him and you started shaking slightly.

"Minho a-ah…" you closed your eyes, breathing heavily "I'm gonna come" you cried out, your hands grabbing the armrests of the chair, your knuckles turning white due to the force you were employing.

"Cum for me, kitten" he commanded, increasing the speed of his fingers thrusting into you and playing with your sensitive clit when you finally released around his fingers, him still torturing your bundle through your climax.

Taking his fingers out of you, he stared at the liquid covering his hand for a moment and then he liked his fingers clean. When he saw you looking at him, he took one of his fingers from his mouth and caressed your lower lip, spreading the mixture of your cum and his saliva. You shyly opened your mouth to surround his fingers with your wet tongue and finish his task of kicking his fingers clean, the small action making you more aroused.

Minho loved how your tongue played with his fingers, groaning and shutting his eyes. You felt his boner twitch, caged in Minho's tight pants and you moved your hips backwards to feel more of him.

But Minho didn't like that.

He grumbled and removed his fingers from your mouth, his saliva coated hand pushing everything on his desk to the floor making you jump in surprise. He clearly had a mission, and you knew he was determined to finish that task.

He grabbed your hips with more force than needed, making you leave the spot on his lap to bend you over his now empty desk. He stood up behind you, manhandling you in the position he needed, pushing the small of your back with his big hand to have your chest against the cold surface of the desk, then widening your legs with his knee to appreciate your glistening sex.

Minho stepped back to appreciate the view in front of him, you looked so vulnerable in that moment, he wasn't sure that he could control himself any longer.

"Oh, kitten… You look so good like this…" he mumbled. You saw him biting his lip from the corner of your eyes, you were unsure that your still shaky legs could support you, so you grabbed the edges of the desk with your delicate hands, your sweaty cheek sticking to the cold material of the desk.

You blinked lazily, realizing Minho had moved when you opened your eyes. Trying to agudyze your sense of hearing to find him, the noise of drawers opening grabbed your full attention, the sound proveniente from behind you, so you supposed that he was there.

And when his fingers passed again through your dripping folds once and made you whimper, you knew that you were right, the sensation making you shiver. You couldn't see him in that moment, but by the sounds coming from your behind, he was unbuckling his belt. Then, a noise of something unwrapping was heard, it was a particular noise you missed hearing since you started working.

You gasped when Minho's cock teased you, your hole throbbing to have something inside. You needed him, and he did nothing but keep teasing your entrance and playing with your still sensitive clit.

"M-Minho, please…" you turned your head to look at him, clear lust showing in your eyes and your mouth partially open. He wasn't even paying attention to you, instead he was focused on not giving you what you wanted right away.

But after a moment he finally returned your look, his cock pressing against your entrance and slowly entering you, never removing his eyes from yours. You tried to keep your eyes open, but the sensation of Minho filling you up was so satisfactory that you couldn't help the pornographic moan coming out of you, trying to keep still for him to enter you at his pace and not rush things.

You tried to tell him how good he felt inside you, but you couldn't form any coherent sentences, opting for biting your lip and arching your back. Minho grunted at the sensation of being finally inside you, your walls were hugging him so tightly he thought your pussy was the best thing he ever tried.

"You're doing so good for me, kitten" he mumbled, pulling out of you in the same slow pace he entered you. He was moving so slowly the seconds he spent getting out of you felt like hours, a delicious torture that you would pay any time to experience again. He thrusted agonizingly slowly into you one more time, his member stretching you out nicely, Minho observing how his dick disappeared when he entered you fully again, your pussy embracing him so warmly he couldn’t remove his eyes from the view.

Slowly and as his thrust increased, the room was filled with the obscene sounds of your moans mixed with Minho’s groaning and wet noises of skin slapping against skin, the position you were in wasn’t much to Minho’s liking, so he took you by the arm and held you with it, separating you from the desk that was now warm because of your body heath, your other hand supporting you by resting flat on the desk, one of your shaky knees moving to rest on the edge of the desk, permitting Minho to hit deeper into you, the new position making you throw your head backwards, almost reaching Minho’s right shoulder.

“R-right there!” you screamed when he hit your g spot, pushing your hips back when Minho moved and lost the angle.

And he hit it again, holding your arm tighter when the strength of your other arm supporting you above the desk weakened and you almost collapsed on the now probably cold surface of it, the pleasure Minho was providing you with making your whole body shake, your eyes shut and moaning uncontrollably.

The hand that Minho was holding your hips in place with left its spot, snaking around your waist looking for your sensitive bundle and massaging to provide you even more satisfaction.

It became too much for you to handle, the knowing feeling of your orgasm approaching becoming stronger and your velvety walls embraced Minho even more, making him moan and thrusting faster in you. Both your heavy breathing warning you of the ending of this intimate moment.

"Minho… I'm gonna cum" you babbled to him, turning your head slightly to let him know that you were close. You couldn't catch the full view of him, but he looked so beautiful, his forehead shining with sweat just like his toned chest, his mouth parted open and moving quickly as he penetrated you.

"Scream my name, kitten. Cum for me" Minho ordered you, triggering your climax with those simple words, and you came undone around him.

He kept playing with your clit and moving his hips against yours, looking for his own release. It didn't take much longer for him to reach his own high, staying still inside you when a final wave of pleasure found him.

You and him stayed silent, trying to regain your breath again. Minho finally pulled out of you, tying the full condom and throwing it to the trash can next to the desk, meanwhile you pulled your skirt down and looked for something to clean the mess between your legs.

"How are you feeling Y/N? Are you okay?" Minho asked, looking at you with concern on his face as he opened a drawer and pulled and took a shirt from it. He made you sit on the desk and opened your legs to clean the evidence of what you two were doing.

You smiled sweetly to him from your seat on the desk.

"I'm good, don't worry about me. You should worry more about all the papers on the floor. Do you need help with that?" Minho chuckled at your response to his previous questions, picking up his own clothes and putting them on in front of you. Beside what he did to you, your face grew hot when you looked at him dress up, biting your lip and playing with your fingers.

"I could use some help to re organize this, thank you" the man said once he was dressed, noticing the look you were giving him. Luckily, he didn't say anything about it.

"Maybe after we're done here we can continue our activities at my place" he offered, handing you some of the things he picked up for you to place on the desk.

"Oh, then let's hurry up" you said excitedly, kneeling to pick more things up under Minho's eyes.

It was in that moment that he decided to be direct and tell you the reasons behind his actions. He had to do it. So he kneeled next to you, taking your hands and making you look at him.

"Y/N, I like you. I like working with you, a lot. I don't know why but I get a similar feeling of being at home when you're around… It's something I can't really describe, but thanks to that I started seeing you as more than another employee" you listened to him carefully, taking in and processing each of his words. You were a little shocked, but a small smile was found in your face when you realized that he also felt something for you.

"I hope that you can accept my feelings for you, and if you reciprocate them I'll know that I'm the luckiest man on earth" he sighed, closing his eyes briefly and caressing your hand with his thumb.

When he was done talking, you removed your hands from his bigger one and took his face, closing the distance between you and kissing him softly.

"I like you too, Minho. And if you're the luckiest man on earth then I guess that means I'm the luckiest woman for getting to be with someone like you" you giggled, your words making Minho smile and pull you close to kiss you again.

"Let's get out of here then. This seems like a problem for future Minho, I'm sure he'll hate me for it but being with you is more worth it. Come one" he stood up and helped you stand up as well. You made your way to the door while he looked for his keys.

A few moments later, the place was securely closed and you were walking hand in hand to Minho's car, mentally thanking God for choosing that pet hospital instead of the other.

Because you had gotten so used to working there, taking care of the little animals, learning new things everyday and talking with Minho and your other friends. It was now impossible for you to imagine a life without that place, and even worse; without Minho by your side.

#stayverse #skz smut #stray kids smut #skz fanfic #stray kids fanfic #minho x reader #szk lee know #skz minho #lee know x reader #minho smut #hhhh #One day I'll know how to properly tag #im lazy to keep tagging im sorry #anyway please enjoy this

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darkverrmin · 4 years

Text

The Best, Part I

"Geralt!"

Jaskier burst into the stables, with a worried look on his face. His fancy clothes were covered in dirt and mud, his lute swinging over his shoulder.

Geralt was sitting beside Roach, leaning against a pile of hay. The mare was lying on her stomach, her head leaning on the Witcher's shoulder. Geralt stopped scratching her behind the ear, giving Jaskier a confused look.

"Jaskier? What the fuck are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be at your bard competition bullshit?"

Jaskier rolled his eyes fondly. "I was heading to my "bard competition bullshit". But then I heard a rumor on the road of a Witcher and his sick horse. Pressed for more details, figured out it was you, hurried back". Jaskier took a few steps closer to the pair, eyeing the mare carefully. "How is she?"

Geralt sighed, closing his eyes. "Not good". His jaw clenched as he spoke and his voice was strained. "They... They don't know how to treat her".

Jaskier crouched in front of them, gently petting Roach on the head. Geralt noticed that there were bags under Jaskier's eyes. Jaskier spoke quietly as he petted Roach. "My brave little girl. Do you enjoy making your Witcher worried sick? I know it's fun to annoy him, but I'm worried too, now. C'mon girl, what's the matter?"

Geralt gave him a small smile and a raised eyebrow. "You came back all the way from the south because of my sick horse?"

Jaskier rolled his eyes again. "She's not just your horse, Geralt. Roach and I have been through a lot together too, right girl?" He scratched her behind the ear and Roach closed her eyes.

"Besides". Jaskier gave Geralt a meaningful look. "I know she means a lot to you... So I thought it's best that I be here".

"I don't need pity". Geralt looked away.

Jaskier huffed. "I was thinking more of being a good friend, but call it what you want. Anyway, what did the healer say?"

Geralt fumbled with his fingers nervously. "He said it was some kind of flu. He gave her a medicine, but she only got worse. We tried a different treatment, but it didn't help".

"Uh-huh. And what now?"

Geralt shrugged, eyes blank. "He says he doesn't know how to treat her. I've been to another healer too, but he wasn't willing to try, after taking a look at her. She stopped eating". Geralt's voice broke off slightly and he gulped loudly, staring at the ground. Jaskier gave him a soft look, feeling the urge to hug the Witcher.

But he settled with a friendly pat on the shoulder.

"What about the king's healer?"

Geralt frowned. "What about him?"

"Did you try asking for his help?"

"What am I made of gold, bard? And let's say he would accept a Witcher, I still wouldn't have enough coin to pay him. Winter is almost here and there are no monsters bothering the cities".

"Right". Jaskier sighed.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, listening to Roach's heavy breathing. Jaskier occasionally glanced at Geralt, who was looking down at the mare with a blank stare. Jaskier felt really sorry for him.

Geralt's voice shook him out of his trance.

"Do you think I should put her out of her misery?"

Jaskier blinked at Geralt, staring at him with wide eyes. Geralt was still looking at Roach, his face tense.

Jaskier put a hand on Geralt's knee and squeezed lightly. "Geralt". He said softly.

"I couldn't even take care of my own fucking horse".

"It's not your fault, Geralt".

"I didn't take care of he-"

"You took great care of her, Geralt. I've never seen anyone worry about their horse the way you worry about Roach. And she knows it". Roach snorted lightly, approving Jaskier's words. Geralt huffed at her. He raised his head to look at Jaskier, who was still staring at him softly. Jaskier moved his hand to rub Geralt's shoulder.

"Wait here. I've got an idea".

Geralt tilted his head to the side, confused. "Not that I was planning on going anywhere, but what the fuck are you up to?"

Jaskier gave him a small smile. "You'll see. Just wait here with Roach". He got up on his feet and ran towards the door. "I'll be back in about an hour!"

"Jaskie-" The door shut behind the bard, before Geralt could finish his sentence.

The Witcher sighed and closed his eyes again. The mare bumped into him lightly with her head. "I know, Roach".

***

Jaskier came back after forty minutes. Accompanied by another man.

Geralt jumped on his feet, drawing his sword. Jaskier took a step closer, raising his hands in the air. "Geralt, it's fine. He's with me".

Geralt frowned. "Who the fuck are you?"

The other man was old, with a long, grey beard and he wore a bright, orange robe. He gave Geralt an unimpressed look. "I am Neros, the king's healer. I've been told there's an ill stallion here".

"Mare" Geralt corrected, glancing at Jaskier with a raised eyebrow. Jaskier gave him a reassuring smile.

"Can I have a look?" The healer asked, pointing at Roach. Geralt nodded silently, stepping away.

Geralt turned his head to Jaskier again, furrowing his brows. Jaskier rolled his eyes and waved his hand dismissively.

After a few minutes of looking and examining Roach, the healer hummed loudly. "Well, she's not dying".

Geralt turned on his heels to face him. "She's not?"

"No. She may take a couple of weeks to recover, but she'll live. She does have the flu, but the medicines she was given were probably too weak. I have the perfect potions for that. Use them for the king's horses all the time, when they get sick". Neros pulled a small vial out of one of his pockets, handing it to Geralt. Geralt accepted it dumbly.

"Make her drink half of it today. And the other half tomorrow morning. I'll be back tomorrow at noon to check on her condition". Neros got up on his feet, brushing his robe. He took another look at Roach. "And she is as beautiful as you told me, bard".

Jaskier smiled at him and gave him a small bow. "Thank you, m'lord".

Neros bowed at Jaskier and walked out of the stables. "Good night, sirs".

Geralt was still standing at the same spot, staring at the vial in his hand.

Jaskier approached him with a grin. "Isn't this great? She will be okay, Geralt!".

Geralt didn't answer him.

"Want me to help you give her the medicine? Not that I know much about horses, but I can tr-"

"How?" Geralt asked softly, turning to face Jaskier.

Jaskier crossed his hands over his chest and huffed. "I told you a million times. I know people! For all these years traveling the continent-"

"Where's your lute?" Geralt cut him off, noticing the absence of Jaskier's instrument, which was hanging over his shoulder earlier.

Jaskier pressed his lips, remaining silent. Geralt noticed the absence of rings on his fingers, too.

"And your rings?"

Jaskier sighed. "Geralt-"

"You traded your lute and rings to save my horse?"

Jaskier put his hands on his hips, gasping. "Once again! I told you! Me and Roach have a special connectio-"

Jaskier was cut off by Geralt pulling him into a tight embrace. Jaskier froze in place, his arms hovering awkwardly at his sides. He heard Geralt sniffling on his shoulder and he felt the Witcher's body shaking lightly.

Jaskier hugged him back, gently. "You were supposed to be happy. Not crying".

Geralt tightened his hold on Jaskier's waist. "Did you do it for me?".

Jaskier sighed, closing his eyes. "Stop it. I can sing around in taverns and get me a new lute in a few months".

"Why did you do it?" The Witcher insisted, speaking into Jaskier's shoulder.

Jaskier brushed Geralt's hair with his fingers, soothingly. "I know how much she means to you, Geralt. I didn't want to see you sad".

There was a minute of silence. Jaskier felt the Witcher's words vibrating through his chest, as he spoke them.

"Thank you".

a/n: my pet bunny is sick and we went to the vet today and I'm worried about him. Sorry for the angst. Part 2 to be happier and softer~

#geralt/jaskier #geralt x jaskier #geralt of rivia #gerald #geraskier #geralt x dandelion #geralt z rivii #jaskier #geralt #witcher netflix #geralt the witcher #witcher #the witcher #julian alfred pankratz #dandilion #dandellion #dandelion #roach

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kashimos-hajime · 4 years

Text

cookies and rings and things | b.b.

summary: “What do you want for Christmas?” “I’ve got everything I want right here.”

WARNINGS: swearing, but it’s all soft, cute and just love!!! lots of love :) pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader word count: 8.3k

a/n: written for @sunmoonandbucky for no particular reason other than i saw that she needed fluff and i was more than happy to provide. make sure y’all show her some love bc she just ACED AN AUDITION and literally,, i love her,,, so much,,, NOW HAS A SEQUEL TITLED: POSITIVELY PERFECT

“How much do you love me?” she asks, winter gleaming on her bare skin and firelight playing in her eyes. It’s Boxing Day of 2024, the first truly normal one after the Blip, and Bucky watches as snow falls like feathersoft stars outside his window at the compound.

“Count the snowflakes, multiply by a million.”

“Big number,” she muses and he can feel her nails scratch at his waist lightly as her socked feet nudge against his. He wonders what kinda insane person wears socks without any clothes on, but then decides that it’s the kind of person who’s fallen in love with him.

“Well, I love you more than that,” he replies. She wrinkles her nose and snuggles in tighter against him. The fur lining of those ridiculous reading socks tickle the inside of his calf as she curls against him and he doesn’t think he should be able to love a girl this much. Then, he can feel the cold metal of the ring she slid onto her own finger less than twenty-four hours ago and realizes that he had thought a lot of things shouldn’t be possible, and yet they still are.

“Dork,” she murmurs against his neck.

“Lover,” he replies against her ear.

Bucky doesn’t mean to notice her. He’s running laps around the newly rebuilt compound, she has a whistle in her mouth as she shouts drills around the metal thing. Sharp cracks of ‘Pick up the pace!’ and ‘Move it, kids!’ nip at his ears when he runs by and Sam says something about how he’s getting distracted. He hadn’t realized at all.

“Who’s she?” he asks, wiping the sweat from his brow. He’s just finished five laps and he stands on the inner edge of the track, watching as recruits run past. A towel is slung over his shoulder and Sam skids to a stop in front of him, stepping in beside the soldier. The rookies’ shirts are soaked and they pant as they whip past, but none dare to slow down when she stands waiting just a few metres away.

“New trainer.” Sam’s got a glint in his eye Bucky thinks he knows when he says her name. He’s just getting to know the guy but he’s a pretty easy book to read anyway. “Heard she’s a hard ass on the newbies but it’s ‘cause she has a rep.”

“Then they’re getting what they signed up for,” he says shortly. Despite the cool autumn breeze brushing against the thick heat of his neck, his heart burns into his chest as he heaves another breath.

“Alright, walk it off. We meet by the pool in fifteen.” She catches their attention again, and Bucky notices she’s wearing a half-zipped up windbreaker and joggers, and nothing underneath. Not that he intends to notice. Her hair is tied up back, and he kinda can’t help but look at her neck and her collarbones and, oh, no, he’s looking at her black sports bra—

“Dude.” He blinks at Sam’s amused snap. “You’re staring.”

“Shut up.” Bucky’s voice roughens up as his cheeks begin to flash red and he hides his face in his towel when Sam nudges him with a sweaty elbow.

“She’s cute. I can get you her number,” Sam says but Bucky lets out such a strangled sound that both Sam and the cute trainer look at him.

If it were possible, Bucky’s skin would melt off.

“Hey,” Sam calls her over by a name Bucky can barely hear because he’s too busy staring at his feet and wishing the ground would swallow him up. “You’re the new trainer, aren’t you?”

“Yeah.” Her voice is so much softer than before. Guess it’s like that when you’re not yelling at recruits and talking to Avengers. Bucky raises his head, absently running a hand through the few strands of hair that’ve fallen from his ponytail. “You’re Sam, right? I feel like we’ve met before.” She cocks her eyebrow and tilts her head. “Did you use to live in Washington?”

“Yeah, I did.” Sam’s smile pinches his cheeks and Bucky’s lips press together in a displeased frown when a grin flickers across her face. “Did you work in the VA? ‘Cause you’re starting to look familiar.”

“Yeah.” When she smiles, it morphs her face into something startling warm and lovely. Bucky dips his head low, trying to act like he’s not really part of the conversation—a mere bystander—because if he looks at her for too long, he knows it’s just too intense to be anything but creepy. “I think we used to bump into each other at the gym. I was a physical therapist at the office, and—”

“You made cookies any chance you got, I remember now!” Sam exclaims and she laughs loudly. “You always made my vets’ day when your cookies came in, so thank you.”

“Yeah, well, I’m here now. It’s funny how life works.” She shrugs and Bucky can feel her gaze land on him. “Hi, I don’t think we’ve met.” Her name slips off her tongue like poetry and Bucky, midway through a swipe of sweat down his neck, looks at her with narrowed eyes. He doesn’t mean to glare, but he’s caught so off-guard by the sudden change in direction of their conversation that he isn’t even a part of that his face reverts to something less than friendly.

“Bucky,” he says stiffly, although he doesn’t know why she doesn’t know the names of every Avenger. She probably does and is just being polite, a stern voice in Bucky’s head reprimands and he can feel Sam almost sigh in disappointment. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you, too. You haven’t tried my cookies yet, so I haven’t proven my worth but I promise they’ll change your life,” she says, completely unphased. Bucky guesses she’s more than used to grumpy guys. “Fall equinox is tomorrow, so wait just a tiny bit longer?”

“Uh, yeah, sure.” Bucky doesn’t understand the question at the end of her sentence but she seems satisfied with his answer as she shoves her hands into the pockets of her windbreaker. “You probably have to get back to work,” he adds lamely and she turns to look at the compound. The autumn breeze curls hair against her cheek and Bucky bites his lip to resist the urge.

“I’m free later tonight,” she says, eyes squinting a bit when she turns back to Bucky and Sam clears his throat when Bucky himself doesn’t say a word. It’s like he’s drowning in her eyes. There’s something so effortlessly patient and warm in her gaze that Bucky can’t help but just… rest. It’s almost as if he can rest in her presence.

“So is Barnes.”

“What?” He snaps back to reality harshly, as usual. “We’re supposed to—“

“Actually, I can handle it on my own. She, however—” At this, Sam gestures wildly to the trainer who stands there, the beginnings of an amused grin growing on her face—“needs help with cookies.”

“I can’t,” he croaks after a minute of stuttering, and he simply clamps his mouth shut, averting his eyes. She’s too pretty for him.

“I mean, company is always welcome,” she says, but he shakes his head.

“I’ll just get in your way and I don’t wanna mess up your cookies.”

“You can’t mess them up. I always think of something and it always works out.” She reaches over to take hold of his flesh arm and despite the coolness of the day when they’re not running their lungs out, her hand burns against his skin. She gently squeezes his elbow. “Don’t worry so much, okay? I’ll be in the kitchen after dinner in the mess.”

She lets go too soon and slips her hand back into her pocket as Bucky opens his mouth to reply.

“I’ve got to go to the pool,” she says, jerking her head towards the compound. Her eyes flicker to Sam whose grin nearly splits his face. “Bye, Sam. It was nice seeing you again, although I suppose we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other now.”

“Big building,” he says with a shrug. “Who knows?” She chuckles lightly, and then her gaze slides to Bucky.

Her eyes just seem to find his so calmly. It’s magnetic, and if he believed in love at first sight, this would be it.

“See you later, Sergeant.” She magpie salutes and he can’t help but mimic like a monkey, a lazy swipe of his finger from his brow. It’s so relaxed, so slow and he’s slouched on one hip, his metal hand on his towel, that he thinks he’s never felt so light. It’s almost routine—he could get used to this.

Man, it’s so easy with her.

Her smile brightens remarkably and she heads back to the compound with a little spring in her step.

Sam waits until she’s inside before grabbing Bucky by the neck and giving him a noogie.

“You gotta dress up nice, man,” Sam advises like he’s on the same level as Tan from Queer Eye. Bucky stares at his reflection in the floor-length mirror and frowns in response.

“We’re baking, not going to a gala.” Maybe I should take her to one. Get invited to enough of them as it is, a part of him muses, but he quickly chases that thought of his head. “Besides, she just saw us earlier today sweating like dogs so I don’t really think she’ll care if I show up in a t-shirt and shorts.”

“But this is your first date, man. You gotta dress to impress.” Sam shuffles through Bucky’s closet whilst its owner gapes at him.

“It’s not a date.”

“Yeah, and I’m not Captain America.”

“Shut up, Sam.” Bucky catches the pair of dark washed jeans and a cozy little sweater Wanda said would be cute on him. Glancing at his reflection in the mirror, he sighs. The warm white and the dark blue are so not his style. His style is black in different shades and fabrics and he is going to kill Sam. “This? I’ll look like—”

“Husband material. You’ll look like a straight up husband. She will cuff you on the spot,” Sam declares much to Bucky’s annoyance. “Are you gonna wear the photostatic veil Banner programmed for you?” He glances over to see Sam holding the mesh of tech, and he frowns thoughtfully.

“Should I?” He hasn’t had the opportunity to try it on, and although he knows everyone is used to his metal arm… He sighs. This is way more complicated than the forties. “Yeah. Good impression, right?” he says lamely and Sam claps him on the back, helping him seal it to his metal arm. As the nano-sized cells connect to the metal plates, a fleshy color blooms from the shoulder down and he feels like silk brushes against the tiny fibers of his arm. He can feel every single little cell, buzzing in a way that’s barely even noticeable. Bucky hopes that when he doesn’t focus on it, it’ll fade into the back of his mind.

“Atta boy. Come on. We’ve got dinner and then it’s time for your date! Wanda made paprikash.”

“Great,” Bucky intones dully, nerves biting at his stomach. He has no appetite for this. “I love paprikash.”

“We don’t sulk on first dates, Barnes.”

“It’s not a fucking date!”

After a dinner full of questions from Dr. Banner on how the photostatic veil was feeling and from everyone else on why, Bucky volunteers to do the dishes and clean up to make sure everything is spotless for when she comes in. Despite confusion among the rest of his colleagues, Sam assures them that ‘this is the plan, guys. Barnes’s got a hot date coming over.’

This, of course, only results in Bucky threatening to throw a skillet at him.

He wipes down the countertops, cleans the sink, and reorganizes the fridge while he waits for her, and he absently wonders what kind of cookies she intends to make. Chocolate chip, jam, sugar, shortbread…

Ingredients! His eyes widen and he turns to look at the dark pantries in slight horror. I should probably get them out for her. And measuring spoons, that’s what she needs, right? His stomach is in knots as he runs around the kitchen island, trying to find all the tools they might need. He tries to think of when Wanda had last made something sweet—what had she used? He ducks to pull out the biggest drawer, relieved to find three metal bowls of different sizes.

“Small, medium, large,” he murmurs under his breath, and he puts them all out beside the other instruments he thinks might be needed. A whisk, a bunch of different spoons, a glass cup and metal scoops… He glances around and tries to figure out what he’s missed before deciding to just open up every possible drawer and cupboard, and see what pricks his imagination.

He only gets to the second set of drawers when a soft chuckle catches his attention.

Whipping around, he feels his heart drop into his stomach when he spots her leaning against the doorframe. Her hair is pulled away from her face, and she has a book and aprons hugged tight to her chest.

“I didn't want to disturb you,” she says, an impish curl to her mouth. Bucky steps back from the kitchen island as she walks around and her gaze sweeps his collection. “It was cute.”

“Not many people can sneak up on me,” he says, a bit defensive as a flush makes its way up his neck. He doesn’t mean to sound like it, but maybe it’s the embarrassment of being caught that makes him oddly proud of his work.

“Not many people help me bake cookies,” she replies, standing next to him. She sets down the book and aprons down and he can catch the faint whiff of dinner at the mess hall clinging to her t-shirt. His heart hammers hard enough he’s sure even the deaf would be able to hear it as she gently plucks at different tools, thinking about what they will and won’t need.

Not the thing that looks like a weird wire version of brass knuckles, got it.

“Uh, pastry cutter,” she names, returning it to its place without a mistake. “We won’t really need it since we’re not cutting up big portions of fat.”

“Good to know.” He nods and writes that down in his head. “Anything else we don’t need?”

“We can use it all if you want,” she says with a laugh living in her voice. “It doesn’t really make any difference to me.”

“Okay, well, let’s just get started, then.”

“Aprons first.” She unfolds the two things, one white and navy, and the other black. The black one says Kiss the Cook and Bucky feels a flash of heat at the print. “Which one?”

The white and navy striped apron has a blue pocket with tiny white polka dots, the same pattern frilling the bottom and on the shoulder straps. The black, it’s clearly larger and for a man, and Bucky wonders if these were truly the only aprons she had or if she only bakes with guys she’s interested in. A flicker of jealousy runs through him. How many guys cooked with her before him?

Stop it. Not a date. Bucky shakes his head and shrugs.

“Whatever looks best on you,” he says. “Not that either of them would look bad or anything, but—”

“Thanks, Sarge.” Her eyes crinkle when she smiles big enough and she slips the black apron over her neck before sticking out the white and navy one to him. He stares at the piece of fabric for a moment before slipping his arms through and twisting his arms to tie a tight knot. She does the same and it’s pulled tight against her, Kiss the Chef smack in the middle of her chest.

“So where do we start?” He swallows because he thinks he’s just signed up for more than he bargained for. He looks at all these raw ingredients, ingredients he’s pulled because he thought it might be useful and doesn’t even know where to begin.

“First, we have to decide how many cookies and which type,” she says, pulling over the book and making space for it. She opens it up and his eyes widen at all the tabs poking out, different colours surely meaning different things. It’s an organized mess.

With a piece of scrap paper and a pencil, she writes down the number of required cookies. “Around there,” she says with a swift circle around a number bigger than Bucky had thought. “And these are the cookies we can make that everyone can eat,” she continues, writing a list down one side and then sectioning it off with a line, “these include nuts,” another section, “and these will have icing on them.”

“That’s a lot of planning for the fall equinox, ma’am,” he begins, trying not to sound daunted. She laughs, her eyes darting to his face. Her stare burns into his cheek as she shrugs.

“Hope I’m not scaring you away.”

No. Never. “Maybe a little.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll do the math and teach you a few tricks, and you’ll be a natural. Promise.” He’s surprised by how easily he believes her. As she talks about all the different types of cookies, the textures and ingredients one can use, Bucky finds himself slipping. He lets her scoot closer as she shows him how to sift the dry ingredients.

“Just tap it against your hand like this,” she says and Bucky copies her. She shows him how to prep the pan, and he preheats the oven. They mix the dough with their hands, and Bucky watches as her skilled hands manipulate the oily dough she’s created like it’s second nature. He glances down at his own pile in a glass bowl that doesn’t look too shabby, and almost smiles. “Yours looks really good, Bucky.”

“Thanks.” His eyes stick to the chocolate chips and he pokes it with a half-proud smile. “I had a great teacher.” She laughs again. She’s easy to laugh and smile, and every time she does either of those things, something in him feels like it’s going to burst with light. He wishes he was like that, but at the same time, he feels brighter than he has in days. Maybe it’s something about how she treats him like any other guy, or maybe it’s that she makes him smile more than anyone has in a while.

“Well, this is only batch one and two out of like, twenty billion,” she says as they begin to shape their cookies. Bucky had ripped the parchment paper for their trays and laid them flat and while they roll these balls of chocolate chip cookie dough, he can’t help but listen to her go on and on about things she wants to talk about. Life since the Blip, the recruits, hobbies and childhood memories. He can’t help but give his two cents too, and she tilts her head as she listens, a soft smile on her face.

“You’re a great listener,” she comments as he sets the trays in the oven and closes the door. She sets the timer on her phone and begins to prepare for the next batch.

“It was all I could do for a while,” he says with a shrug. “You get good at stuff you do for a long time.” Her actions slow and she turns to stare at him. He focuses on cleaning up his work space, swallowing down the smell of butter and sugar. “Guess something came out of it,” he adds uncomfortably when the silence grows. He looks beside him, at her, where there is a smear of flour across her cheek, where she merely stands there in silence, and sighs. He’s ruined it. “Sorry.”

“Is that why you hid your hand?” she asks softly and his eyes widen noticeably. “I didn’t want to ask to make you uncomfortable, but I did wonder.” She looks down to make sure she’s measuring enough sugar and she closes her eyes for a moment, clearly cursing herself. Bucky wishes he could say something, but his mouth doesn’t click with his brain. “Forget I even brought it up. I’m sorry, I—”

“I wore it for tonight,” he blurts out and she looks at him, eyebrows furrowed together. “It’s a photostatic veil Banner coded for me and… and I wore it for you.”

“Why? It’s not like I’m afraid of it.”

You should be. “I guess I just wanted to be normal for a night,” he sighs and she stops sifting for a moment to really look at him. Setting down the sieve, she leans on the counter and places the other hand on her hip, waiting for him to explain patiently. “Sam called it a date, and I think it got to my head.”

“Oh,” she breathes. He tears off the photostatic veil carefully, letting the mesh crumple in his hands and she swallows. The air is thick with an emotion neither of them can quite name and Bucky is quite sure she will never want to see him again. God, is this what it’s like to flunk a date? He sets down the mesh on a clean countertop, watching the hologram flicker as he flexes his metal fingers. They gleam in the artificial light and he hides it behind his back, shame pooling in his chest.

“I’m so sorry. I… I didn’t want to make it awkward for you,” he mutters and she reaches to touch his metal wrist tentatively. Kiss the Chef wrinkles against her chest and his gaze falls to the floor. He doesn’t quite know how to describe how utterly disappointed in himself he is when she steps closer, fingers curling over his. No pity in her eyes, she squeezes his palm carefully.

“I don’t want you hiding yourself away,” she murmurs, tilting her head so he is forced to look at her. His eyes stare dejectedly into hers and she smiles, using her other hand to cup his face. Powder dusts against his eyes and he squints. The smell of dough clings to her skin and she smiles fondly at him, fingers stroking his cheek. “I like you just as you are.”

“You like me?” he asks, confused, and she chuckles. “All I’ve done is help you make cookies.”

“‘Course I like you, dork. You’re hot.” A teasing bite in her tone, she taps his nose with her thumb before returning her palm to his cheek. “And I know you didn’t have control of anything in your past, and you’re trying your best, Bucky. That’s all any of us can do, now that we’re back.” Her eyes avert for a moment, and then find his again. There is a gooey softness that reminds him of molten chocolate and snow on Christmas eve. “I really do like you, you know. Have a big ol’ school girl crush on you, to be honest.”

“On me?” Why not anyone else? He’s bewildered. Sam, or that new receptionist on two, or even some other trainer because…

Frankly, Bucky thinks he’s lost all appeal to those who know him since 1945.

She takes his silence as rejection and it shows in the uncertainty that mars her face. Bucky wishes he knew how to articulate that he is insanely attracted to her and how the way she laughs makes his heart believe it can jump mountains, but instead he is stunned into a quiet that fills the kitchen. He only met her a few hours ago. How can he even begin to explain it?

“We have cookies to make,” he says instead, eyes flitting to the open ingredients and he turns his head against her hand. She springs apart from him, cold rushing to fill in the space she’s left behind as she draws her hands towards herself.

“Oh. Yeah, I guess we do.” Her face falls and she grabs the sieve, a wobbly smile built on her lips. “Forget I brought it up, then.” She begins to sift her dry ingredients once again and he mentally groans to himself. Why is he such an idiot?

He mumbles her name softly, and she pauses, turning just so to look at him.

“I like you, too,” he says with a difficulty that shouldn’t be there, because it’s true. “I know I just met you today, but you’ve already made me feel… different, I guess”

“Different?” A tentative, stronger smile begins to curl the corner of her mouth and he nods, his lips twitching upwards. His hand, flesh and warm, settles on her hip all on its own, a fluttering touch that he is completely unsure of as he gently turns her to face him fully. She’s so damn gorgeous with flour on her face and eye bags beneath her eyes that he’s sure she will inevitably make his heart burst. It pounds in his head as he tries to grab at reasons he needs to step away, to stay away, but his heart battles his head ferociously.

I’ll hurt you and I can’t stand the thought. I’ll hurt you or kill you or lose control and you can’t stop me and I don’t want to hurt you ever. His brain screams the words H.Y.D.R.A had thrown at him, the looks handlers had tossed at him flashing in his head—terrified, wild dog, monster.

I want to protect you, I want to love you, you light me up, I can protect you. I won’t hurt you. I’ll be better for you, if you could love someone like me. His heart whispers, louder than the silence. It’s the forties boy in him, the son his mama raised and the brother Rebecca loved, and he can recall the faces he’s adored—Steve, Ma, Becca.

“I don’t know how to explain it,” Bucky murmurs and she hesitantly touches his face. His eyes flutter at her gentle touch and she takes it as an invitation to cup his face once again. “It’s just… you.”

“I’m not special,” she tells him bashfully, words brushing against his lips as he closes his eyes for a moment against her hand. When he opens them once again, he finds her watching, transfixed. There is a new serenity in her eyes, one that tells him she is completely enchanted on something that cannot be him—he is anything but an angel.

“You really are.”

“Now, now, Sergeant Barnes.” Her voice is warm as whiskey and he can get drunk off the sound of her laugh. He can feel her smile just by how her energy shifts and Bucky falls, for the first time in his life; he falls harder than he ever has. “Go on like that and you’ll get anything you want from me.”

“Even permission to kiss the chef?” Bucky’s words, thick and hot, jumble in his mouth. Her nose brushes his, sparks tingling in his veins as her hand trails to cusp the back of his neck.

“That permission will always be granted without question.”

He kisses her softly, hesitance laced through his lips and it is only when she crushes him against her does he bury his hand in his hair and kiss her like she is meant to be kissed: feverently, reverently, forever reminded that Bucky Barnes is lucky enough to be completely in love with her.

Bucky is quite sure Sam is in love with his girlfriend in the fact that he’s in love with the fact that his girlfriend is possibly in love with Bucky. Bucky himself doesn’t think that she could possibly be in love with him, but Sam is more than eager to prove otherwise.

“Sam asked what I’m getting everyone for Christmas.” She’s on the shoulder press, the muscles in her back flexing and waning in a slick sheen of sweat while Bucky completes his set of push-ups.

“He’s thinking too far ahead,” he mutters. “It’s only the start of November.”

“Well, you know him. I think he just wants an opinion on what I’m getting you.” Standing up, she grabs her water bottle, squirting a stream of ice-cold water into her mouth before laying down beside him. “What do you want for Christmas?”

He pauses mid-way up from his two-hundredth push-up. “You don’t need to get me anything, doll.” The nickname is still a bit strange on his tongue but he thinks he can get used to it.

“Yeah, but I wanna get you something.” She juts out her bottom lip in an adorable pout, a telltale sign she wants him to kiss her and he leans on one hand to press a quick kiss onto her lips before resuming his workout. He knows the signs on what she wants fairly easily now. He’s grateful she’s spelt it out so many times for him.

Playing with his fingers means she wants attention, a pout is a kiss, suctioning kisses to the neck means she’s feeling some sorta way and he’s more than happy to oblige that feeling. There’s a long list of little tells that Bucky’s starting to think it’s a whole other language.

“How about cookies?” he deflects and she rolls her eyes, getting up and sucking down some more water.

“I make cookies for everyone. You deserve something special,” she argues and he sighs. “I really want to make our first Christmas special.” He lies down and pushes on his palms, stretching out in a cobra pose while she rolls over into the splits. He pulls back into child’s pose while she leans forward and he’s thankful for the silence.

What do I want? he wonders. What do I want that I don’t have already? His eyes drift to her form only a few centimetres away and he thinks, Nothing.

“I’ve got everything I want right here,” he intones seriously, crawling forward and she turns to him, eyes wide. Sitting upright, she changes legs. “I guess I want nothing to change.”

“Dork,” she mumbles, and a sticky heat pools in his face as she pokes his cheek. He sits down and she offers him his water bottle with a shake. He shakes his head, the argument that his own is only in the locker room. “Come on. Locker room’s too far away from me.” A sweat drop tracks down her jaw and he smiles softly, brushing it away. Legs crossed, he takes it without taking a sip. “Besides, I told you you can take what you want. I don’t mind.”

“Okay,” he says, knowing full well it just doesn’t feel right to take back the hoodies she’s stolen from him. Maybe one by one, he’ll take them back and wear them for at least twenty four hours before giving them back. Then, his scent will stay with her. “What do you want for Christmas, then?”

“I—” Her sentence is cut off by an alert on his phone, one they both know not to ignore and she sighs. There is disappointment, their little bubble popped with a simple text. He sets down her water bottle to get it, gut dropping at the message displayed on his screen. “How long is it?”

“Emergency response in Cairo, I don’t know,” he murmurs. Pocketing his phone, he grabs his towel and rushes back to her. He grabs her face and presses a desperate kiss against her mouth, eyes squeezing shut and she mumbles words he can’t decipher against his grieving lips. Her fingers touch his jaw gently, a reminder that he must go, and he pulls away. “I’ll text you as soon as I can.”

“Stay safe.”

He smiles shakily and promises that he will.

“Barnes. We got a package for you.” Sharon Carter’s voice catches his attention from his sniper post and he blinks away the winter sun from his eyes. No movement still. “Merry Christmas.”

The blonde extends a box towards him, a slight smile curling her lips and he frowns at the stark bleakness of it. Black, and absorbing no light, it feels heavier than he thought it’d be.

“Thanks.” He shifts, his bones clicking as he glances out the tiny slit of a window. There hasn’t been movement for weeks. Crossing his legs, he sets the box before him and a tiny blue hologram pops up from a tiny hole in the center. His eyebrows furrow together as it scans his face and he squints.

“Facial scan complete: Hello, James Buchanan Barnes.”

F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice echoes in his small little perch and he still thinks it’s weird without having the side effect of Stark in his suit chasing after him to hear the A.I. but he shoves that uncomfortable feeling of the dead man out of his head. That is too much regret to unpack right now on a mission.

The box unfolds, the mechanical whir humming in his ears and a waft of sweet sugar rushes into his face as he peers within.

Cookies. Sugar cookies, butter cookies, frosting and crystal sprinkles, gingerbread, snickerdoodle, a note in her writing.

“She requested I ask you to read her note before eating the treats,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. says and Bucky pulls out her note. “She also requested that you stay safe, despite not being home for Christmas.”

Taking the blue cue card, he sighs at the mere sight of her writing. His heart aches much more than he realized and he wonders if she misses him half as much as he misses her.

Buck,

Times may be tough while we’re apart, but absence only makes the heart grow fonder. Stay safe, Sarge, and come back to me.

Merry Christmas. Forever thinking of you.

When he bites into one of those cookies, he melts into the wall he’s leaning to and closes his eyes, just imagining her standing in the kitchen with that Kiss the Chef apron tied tightly around her. The taste brings back memories, and brings him back home to New York, to her. Home, he muses wistfully, home is waiting for me with her laugh and smell and eyes. Home.

Bucky drops his bags as soon as he’s off the quinjet because he spots the dark blur that is his girlfriend in a track pants and a big poofy parka running down the road towards him. He barely gets his arms up in time before she’s flying into his arms and he lets out a grunt, stumbling back as he flings his arms around her waist and holds onto her tightly. Her legs squeeze his waist as she burrows her head into his neck and Sam laughs as he unpacks the equipment.

“Bucky,” she says, pulling back and his arms hold her to him still, gently supporting her back and her bottom. Her hand cups her face and she brushes hair out of his face, tracing a healing cut on his lip. “You’re home.” She embraces him again, thighs tightening as if she’s afraid to see him leave again and he merely closes his eyes, letting the first day of 2024 snow against his skin. “You’re home.”

“I’m home, lover,” he promises, and she laughs, face wet when she steps back onto solid ground again. He opens his eyes to admire her, a vision; a sight for sore eyes from the arms length he holds her at. The snow melts as it lands on her skin but it nestles in her hair, a frame of white for her pretty face that he’s missed far too much. “God, I’m home.”

She laughs, a watery smile surfacing as she leans up to kiss him. They are rapid, wet with emotion and she smiles against his lips, just laughing in relief. “I love you so much,” she whispers and he blinks, drawing back. Her face is the epitome of happiness as he gawks at her and she wipes at her eyes. “You don’t have to say it back, but I just… I love you.” She doesn’t look afraid, only confident in her feelings for him and he scoops her up, his heart bursting with sunlight.

“I love you, too,” he whispers into her ear, embracing her tightly. She lets out a tiny exhale at his strength but hugs him back tightly anyway. What is love if not hugs that barely allow you to breathe and kisses until you’re dizzy? Bucky doesn’t know. “God, I love you.”

Bucky learns a lot dating her.

She hums when she cuts his hair—which she does every so often—and likes to cuddle in her sleep. She bakes for every occasion she can think of and likes to spoil Bucky rotten. Although their jobs often keep them apart during the day, Bucky likes to just watch her in her environment, ordering the recruits around.

She has a different sport she favours for every season. Jogging in the fall, hockey in the winter, tennis in the spring and swimming in the summer. More often than not, she drags a happy Bucky with her to the rec centre and he’s more than happy to participate, whether he shows it or not.

She expresses her feelings through cooking, which Bucky has learnt the hard way. One time, they got into an argument over something stupid—he can’t even remember what started it—and came to the kitchen at 2AM to see her sitting at the kitchen island crying her eyes out and surrounded by baskets of muffins.

“Lover,” he had called out softly, already too loud for the eerie time between midnight and morning. “You’ve got a bit of a muffin problem.”

“I know,” she had replied dejectedly. “I don’t know what to do with all of it, Buck.”

They had donated it to shelters around the city, going on their own from street to street with baskets full of muffins. It becomes ritual, to have days where they bring baked goods and homemade meals to those who need it.

She doesn’t really know how to take care of herself, based on how she treats herself during assessment season, so Bucky has to pick up her slack and feed her more than caffeine. He feeds her diets that are balanced and healthy, and makes meals that he learns in his spare time to share with her while she shouts herself raw at the soldiers.

He remembers her favourite foods and music, and knows just how to put an exhausted girl to bed with makeup and bra off. He remembers to write when he’s gone for too long during missions, and he remembers her birthday, favourite colour, and which show she’s currently obsessing over. He always downloads the seasons to catch up so he understands what she’s talking about.

It’s safe to assume he knows when to propose, hell, he’d been ready the night they first baked together, but he just has to remember to catch her ring size. There’s so much of his mind cluttered with these useless yet utterly adorable facts about her that he can’t bring himself to delete, that it’s always the one thing he forgets to do.

Here is where his friends come in.

They’re all hanging in the lounge on a lazy autumn day. Their one year anniversary is coming up and Bucky and Sam are watching football while she talks to Wanda about potential plans.

“Popcorn,” Sam says without tearing his eyes off the screen, shoving the bowl in their general direction. Bucky grabs it unceremoniously, popping a few into his mouth while she twists in his grip to pass the bowl to Wanda.

“I have cookies cooling, boys,” she warns them and Wanda chuckles. The witch puts the bowl back on the table next to the empty nacho plate while Bucky’s girlfriend decides to curl against him, and his arm around her waist squeezes her close. His hand trails down to her thigh, hoisting her legs up while she peppers kisses on the underside of his jaw.

“I don’t understand anything about this game,” Wanda intones once commercials hit, amused when Sam lets out a shout of disappointment. Beeping from the kitchen, a timer, breaks whatever retort he was prepared to throw back at the Sokovian and Bucky lets out a whine when his girlfriend unwinds from his lap to get up.

“Sorry, babe, but I gotta get them before they get too cold,” she says and Bucky frowns before nodding. He cups the back of her neck, and she kisses him quickly before pulling away and skipping to the kitchen. Wanda immediately crawls into the space on the other side of Bucky on the couch, pulling out her phone while Sam leans over to whisper.

“She sends me pictures all the time,” Wanda begins nefariously and Sam pulls out a strip of paper, a line in pencil across it. As he rolls it up into a ring, Wanda leans over to show Bucky pictures of the girls’ conversation. “She adores all of them, but she cannot decide.”

“And here you go, man.” Sam gives the paper ring to Bucky. “Got it while she was taking a nap.”

“She wants silver rather than gold,” Wanda says.

“And she doesn’t care about a venue.”

“But she likes the idea of a seasonal wedding.”

“Dude, she wants your babies.”

“She wants two or three kids.”

Bucky’s head begins to spin as they continue to bombard him with facts or proof that she actually wants to spend a life with him, and he blinks, staring at the commercials that still flash in his face. Grabbing Wanda’s phone, he focuses on the images that his girlfriend had sent the witch, gorgeous silver rings with diamonds, some with less, some with more, and simply tunes the two out, trying to internally decide what he should buy her. Meanwhile, Sam and Wanda have fallen into some argument about whether or not Bucky’s wedding is going to be a summer or winter wedding, when a new voice pierces the air.

“Who wants cookies?”

Immediately, a hush falls over them. Bucky tears his eyes away from the phone just as Wanda snatches it back just in time for her to appear, striding into the room with the smell of cookies rushing in after her. She sends them an odd glance, and the trio of Avengers merely separate as she sets down the plate. A fresh batch of chocolate chip cookies are stacked ontop of a porcelain plate and Sam lunges forward to grab one while she picks one up delicately and resumes her place on Bucky’s lap.

“What were you three talking about?” she asks, amused, and he takes the cookie with a click of his mechanical arm. She tucks her head underneath his chin while his hand goes back to her thigh and he bites into the cookie.

“Nothing you gotta worry about,” he says. The game starts again and she can’t pipe up to argue without Sam telling them to shut up, so she doesn’t. Instead, she rests her head on his chest and Bucky hopes she doesn’t hear his heart beating like crazy in his chest.

By the tiny smile he can feel against his chest, she can hear it.

Bucky holds the ring in his pocket for four months.

He had bought it the very next day after the football game because if he had let it sit, the nerves would’ve gotten to him, but now, new nerves are causing him to become paranoid: waiting for the perfect moment, scared that she’ll find out.

He thinks the proposal should be grand and all about how much he loves her and how much she’s shown him and loved him and it needs to be perfect. It is anything but that.

“Morning,” she whispers as her eyes flutter open. She’s laying against him in their comfy, toasty bed, and he doesn’t want to move for Christmas festivities except they both have to—a charity breakfast for veterans where Bucky is speaking, then a novice hockey game because his girlfriend just had to teach the cutest little seven year old boys how to utterly destroy their opponents, and then dinner.

He traces shapes along the slope of her back lazily, craning his head to look at him and she smiles dazedly.

“Hey, lover.” He grins easier now, and when his smile splits his face, her own does too. “We’ve got a day ahead of us.”

“A day that’s way too long for Christmas,” she mumbles, closing her eyes and pressing her cheek against his chest. “Convince me to get up.” It’s still dark outside, a blissful 5AM full of snow delicately fluttering outside their window. He wraps a leg around her waist, pulling her close while she dozes and she lets out a contented sigh at his arm draped over her side.

“Don’t want to,” he replies, eyes closing. “Want you to stay right here with me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Kinda want to stay here forever,” he continues drowsily, eyes fluttering shut and she shakes in his arms with a silent laugh. “Wish everyday could be like this.”

“You wake up earlier, and maybe it could be,” she retorts. Of course the early bird in her is perfect for her morning drills with her recruits, but Bucky prefers to sleep in like the owl he is, and he lets out a snort, kissing her hairline. “Just saying.”

“I’m too busy catching up on your shows.” His arm tightens around her.

“Catching up. Liar. I know you were up at 2 AM this morning binge-watching.” She tilts her head up, eyes opening. A spark lights up her face and a mischievous curl of her lip tells Bucky she’s about to say something that’s going to make him blush. “Just admit you like Gossip Girl and go, babe.”

“Alright, I like it.” Rolling his eyes, he pecks her forehead and she smiles victoriously. It’s so adorable that Bucky, with less than three hours of sleep, adds, “God, I want to marry you.”

“What?”

Oh.

Shit.

Bucky is suddenly more awake than if someone had thrown him into an ice bath. She almost throws herself off of him, sitting up and he follows her with his eyes as she twists to turn on the lights. Golden light paints her a goddess, and her hair is messy atop her head as she stares at him with wide eyes.

Bucky sits up slowly, the blanket pooling around their waists, and she blinks at him as he chews on the inside of his cheek.

“Do you not want to get married?” he asks slowly, almost afraid. Although he’s nearly 100% certain she wants to be with him, a part of him still bites at his stomach with doubt. “Have… have I been looking at this wrong?” He doesn’t tear his eyes away, holding this staring contest as she continues to stare at him, lips slightly parted and he reaches over to touch her hand. “You okay, lover?”

“You wanna marry me?” she asks, and he nods slowly, fire rising in his stomach and crawling up his neck as he makes a mental note never to keep secrets from her because when he’s been running on three hours of sleep, he likes to spill his guts where he feels safe.

“I… I got a ring and everything.” He turns to open the drawer on his nightstand and pulls out the dark navy box, velvet brushing against his sleep-numb fingers. “Wanda and Sam helped, and I was going to make this a big thing, but—” He’s tripping over his words as he pries it open, and he watches as her gaze falls to the silver ring, the exact one from one of the pictures Wanda had shown him—”I know I don’t really deserve you, and god, you deserve better than a proposal at 5 AM but I really do want to marry you.”

“Buck—”

“I love you. I love you so much it’s crazy because I didn’t think anyone could love me, or that I could open my heart to someone like you, and I know you deserve more than this, a better man, but—”

“Bucky—”

“All I’m trying to say is… thank you. For loving me.” His sleep addled brain tries to scramble for more things to say, and he smiles, almost sad but so, so, very much in love. “Thank you for bringing laughter into my life again.”

“Bucky, you fucking dork,” are her first words and he blinks as she lunges into his body. The blankets twist and her warm muscles wrap around him as she peppers kisses all over his face. “You wonderful, wonderful man. I love you so much. I love you, I love you, I love you.” His arm props him up against her body as he holds onto the box and she straddles his waist, twisting to look at the box. Her smile is tender as she takes out the ring and slides it onto her finger and he smiles bashfully when she shows him the fit. He lets the velvet box slip from his hand to cup her waist and he sighs blissfully when she leans to kiss him.

“Remember when I asked what you wanted for Christmas last year?” she murmurs against his lips and he smiles as the cool metal of her new ring trails down his neck to his shoulder. “And you said you wanted nothing to change…”

“I guess I just didn’t want anything more than you,” he whispers fondly and she smiles, eyes closing as she knocks her forehead against his. “But this one change I can handle.”

“Yeah?” She opens her eyes to stare deeply into his and he smiles, a warm curl to his lip.

“Yeah.”

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knifeshoeoreofight · 4 years

Photo

I made a furry friend at Pittsburgh International Airport, and then this ficlet came out of that. Check PITpaws out- it’s an actual thing! Also, I’m actually writing again, whaaat ???

CW: brief reference to past animal mistreatment

Sid is tired. He’s been in three airports today, because the new kid they put in charge of travel arrangements fucked up. Sid isn’t going to kick up a fuss, that isn't his style, but he can and will privately fume.

He’s got an insane layover in Pittsburgh before the last leg to Toronto. It’s a familiar airport, at least, his job takes him here often enough. His survival plan is to get some kind of iced Starbucks drink the size of his face, and to find a wall outlet before he and his phone both give up the ghost.

He orders something that ends up being fluorescent pink and downs half of it before loosening his tie and resting his aching head in his hands.

He’s drifting, trying not to think about how late it’s going to be when he gets home to his empty apartment, when there’s a faint scrabbling noise from below and to his left. He looks up to see the tiniest, fanciest dog he’s ever seen straining at the end of its leash, plume tail whisking wildly. It’s wearing a minuscule yellow bandanna and a jacket with “Therapy Dog” embroidered on the side. It dances, absurd little forepaws skittering on the floor as it tries with every fiber of its tiny being to get to Sid.

“Ponchik! Сидеть!” A deep voice admonishes, and the dog instantly sits, albeit trembling with yearning.

“This Ponchik,” the same deep voice rumbles. “It’s ok he’s say hello?”

Sid looks up. And up. And despite everything, his lips quirk up in a smile, because the man on the other end of the leash is as gigantic and imposing as his dog is delicate and tiny. The man blinks at him for a split second, and then shakes himself.

“We’re with PIT Paws.. He’s therapy dog, he’s help people be comfortable. Travel, it’s so stress, you know?” the man says.

Sid is charmed. He holds out a hand towards the dog. “Is it ok if I—“

“Yes, of course,” the man says, and he steps forward so Ponchik can reach Sid. Ponchik dances at Sid’s knee, going up on his hind legs.

“He’s like you,” the man says, a smile in his voice. “He’s want sit on lap. Ok with you?”

Why not.

“Sure,” Sid says, and the man makes a clicking noise with his tongue and Ponchik leaps nimbly up.

He’s light, and warm, and he trembles with happiness as Sid scratches him gently behind his fringed ears. Sid can practically cradle the dog in his hands, he’s so small.

Some combination of his exhaustion, and the enthusiastic warmth of the little animal hit Sid right in the chest.

He cradles Ponchik in his arms and takes a deep, unsteady breath.

When he looks up at the man, he’s smiling understandingly down at Sid.

“I know,” is all he says, and settles his lanky frame into the chair opposite Sid’s. “Take all time you want. It’s his job.”

“Hey, bud,” Sid tells the dog softly, and laughs as Ponchik licks Sid’s fingers and snuggles in, curling up and resting his head on Sid’s wrist with a sigh.

“Ah,” the man says. “He’s like you a lot. He doesn’t always do.”

Sid strokes the dog’s fur. “There are probably kids around or something that need him more than I do.” He’s reluctant, he doesn’t want to lose the dog’s comforting presence but, well. He’s just tired, there has to be someone out there who needs this more than he does.

“Hm,” the man says, his dark eyes considering. “Maybe it’s good time for break. He’s small and he’s walk so much, you know?”

“Oh, in that case,” Sid says, his shoulders relaxing a little. Ponchik yawns, and Sid smiles at the squeaky noise it makes. “Ponchik. That’s a cute name.”

“It’s mean like,” the man makes a gesture like he’s cupping something circular in his hands. “Sweet thing, like.” He frowns, and Sid waits patiently for the man to find the words.

“Donut!” the man exclaims, with a snap of his fingers. “He’s this color, and when he sleep he’s round, you know?” Again he gestures, this time indicating a curled up animal. Something in Sid’s chest goes soft and quivery.

“Oh my god, that’s the best thing I’ve ever heard,” Sid blurts, and the man ducks his head, hiding his pleased smile. It’s incredibly charming.

“I’m Evgeni,” the man says. “Can call me ‘Geno’.”

“Sid,” Sid replies, and reaches out the hand not taken over by Ponchik. Geno shakes it. Sid isn’t a small man, but Geno’s hand swallows up his own. Sid can already feel the pink start to flood his cheeks. Damn his traitorous complexion.

“You have layover?” Geno asks, and something about the timbre of his voice is different. Hushed, hesitant. Like he’s asking about more than just Sid’s travel plans. “Or you live here?”

“I live in Toronto.”

Sid just barely catches Geno’s face momentarily fall before he plasters on a smile. It’s not just Sid’s imagination, then, the interest in Geno’s eyes.

“But,” Sid adds. “My company has offices here, and I visit all the time for work.”

“Really?” Geno asks, his expressive features lighting back up. “I mean—” Another duck of the head, and his ears have gone flame-red.

How is a man that large so fucking cute? Sid wonders. And, is it inappropriate to give him Sid’s number if he’s technically working, or volunteering?

“How did you get into this?” he asks, instead.

Geno smiles fondly at Ponchik. “I’m always like cats, you know? But I’m walk home from work and I’m see him.” His expression darkens. “Someone throw him from car.”

Sid’s hands still protectively over Ponchik’s little body. “Fucking bastards.”

Geno shakes his head. “Worst. I’m take him to vet, and he’s very scare, but still want be friends with everyone. After he’s better I’m see flyer for training. Visit sick kids, old people, you know. All picture is big dogs. I’m think, maybe some people scared. I don’t--” he pauses, glancing sidelong at Sid. “I’m not like big dogs so much. So I think, like, we try training. Some people maybe like he’s so small.”

Sid is filled with the sudden and overwhelming urge to lean over and kiss Geno’s generous mouth. He swallows, tearing his eyes from the man to his dog, still sacked out in Sid’s lap.

The sudden wail of an overtired toddler splits the air, and Ponchik’s head jerks up as he zeroes in on the sound. He whines, and his tail starts whisking again.

“Oh no, sad baby,” Geno chuckles. “He’s want to go help.”

Sid looks up and sees an exhausted looking woman juggling an infant in one arm and a diaper bag on the other as she tries to soothe the tears of a little girl in a Frozen t-shirt.

“Go on,” Sid says, carefully setting Ponchik down on the floor. On impulse, he takes out a pen and one of his business cards, scrawling his personal cell across the back. “I’m so sorry if I’m reading this wrong, but...” He trails off, and holds out the card to Geno, heart in his throat.

“Oh,” Geno says, and takes the card reverently. He looks at Sid, a slow, beautiful smile dawning across his face. “Thank you. This, I can send SMS?”

“If you want,” Sid says. His face feels like it’s on fire. “You can tell me how it goes with PIT Paws. Maybe give me some insider intel on good Pittsburgh restaurants?”

“Next time you here, maybe I’m show you?” Geno’s voice has gone even lower, smoky with promise.

Sid offers his hand to shake goodbye. “Absolutely.”

Geno holds Sid’s fingers a beat too long for anything besides clear intent, and he lets his fingers trail across Sid’s palm as he slowly lets go. “See you soon, yes?”

“Yeah,” Sid says, a little more breathy than he meant to sound.

Geno stands, and the little girl across the way lets out another loud sob.

“Go on,” Sid says, unable to stop grinning up at Geno. He probably looks like an idiot.

Geno goes, and the wave of unnameable emotion that breaks over Sid almost scares him as he watches Geno crouch low and introduce the crying girl to Ponchik. Geno gives Ponchik a command, and he sits up to beg prettily. The little girl smiles through her tears, and then gives in to giggles as Ponchik dances on his hind legs.

Sid carries that image with him all the way through his flight and the Uber back to his apartment.

By the time he’s showered off the air travel and is blearily eyeing his lackluster fridge contents, his phone buzzes on the kitchen counter.

It’s a photo of Ponchik, curled up on a rumpled duvet.

“So tired, we sleep!” reads the text. Tired is spelled wrong and just like so many things about Geno, it makes an alarming tenderness well up inside Sid.

“Flight ok?” reads the next one.

“He looks as sleepy as I feel,” Sid texts back. “And yeah, it was fine. Glad to be home, finally.”

Geno sends an emoji mishmash that Sid interprets as something like agreement.

“Sleep, Sid. We talk tomorrow?”

“Absolutely,” Sid replies, and smiles down at his phone like a dweeb.

He has another business trip in two weeks and this time, he cannot wait.

#sidgeno #sidney crosby/evgeni malkin #hockey rpf #dana writes a thing

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mini-moongi · 4 years

Text

Notification [REVAMPED] || 1

Taehyung x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Story prompt: What if you got an alert on your phone every time someone thought of you? They tell you their thoughts in the form of text messages.

Summary: Alert!AU, School!AU; A mysterious app appeared on your phone and you can’t get rid of it?? It texts you people’s thoughts. One day, you accidentally send the star basketball player, Min Yoongi, to the nurse’s office.

A/N: I got the sudden urge to revamp this old fic of mine bc it has SO MUCH POTENTIAL I just sucked at writing :,)) Anyways it’s been a good few years since my last written fanfic so--

Chapters: 1 || 2 || 3 || 4 || 5 coming soon!

series masterlist

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You tapped tirelessly on your phone; your eyes so dry you can hear yourself blink. It’s 3 am and you have school tomorrow, but you just have to download this new album you found whilst “studying.” After it finishes loading into your playlist, a notification popped up. You thought that maybe your years of illegally downloading music has finally caught up with you.

“ALERT: Unauthorized app: E C H O downloaded. [ERROR_606_RESET] LOG DELETED.”

You panicked, what if it’s a virus?? Going onto your home screen, you find an app called E C H O. Nothing else was out of the ordinary, except for the cryptid new app. After that fateful night, you’ve learned that it texts you the thoughts that people have about you. You couldn’t delete it, no matter how hard you tried, and you tried for weeks. Not many people think of you anyways, so it’s no biggie.

Thinking that was your first mistake.

Your friend, Byeol, was chasing you down the hallway with a dead roach she found on the floor. “Ew look, it’s guts are oozing out!!” She’s never been afraid of icky things, and will not hesitate in poking a dead organism with her bare hands. She’s a madman, and she knows you’re about to gag when she squeezes the guts of the roach between her fingers.

You’re running away from the horrifically explicit roach Byeol is holding, and as you turn your head to spew out an insult, you crash into another body. It sends you tumbling on top of them with no support to stop the fall. He lets out a deep guttural groan from the impact, and a loud “Fuck!” escapes the stranger’s lips.

Bumping into him was your second mistake.

You don’t even look at them, too scared to make eye contact as you blurt out,” I’m so sorry!!” You hastily try to recollect yourself and offer your hand to the poor victim. When you finally glance at him, you almost freeze up. You just whammed yourself into the school’s best basketball player, Min Yoongi™.

Min Yoongi is one of the seven guys at the top of the High School tier class. Some fan club even started the name, “Bangtan Boys” to address the seven handsome guys. He’s an excellent pianist, a fantastic composer, a basketball star, and unmistakably a bad boy. Guys and girls swoon over him, but he’s given them all the the cold shoulder. You recalled a friend of yours who said that his glare was so piercing, you literally feel your body tense and freeze up. You also happen to remember that he had to sit out on the last basketball game because he sprained his ankle. Ouch.

You look back over your shoulder, and of course, Byeol was pretending not to know who you were. She picked up conversation with a nearby stranger, hoping that they didn’t see the cause of this destruction. You didn’t blame her though, no one wants to get on Yoongi’s bad side. You were sure your phone had a ton of messages from ECHO, even though you’ve put it on “Do Not Disturb.”

Your guilt sinks in and it weighs heavy on your shoulders at the thought of you being the reason he’s in pain. “..Are you alright? Here, let me take you to the nurse.” You help him up and wrap his arm around your shoulder. “You can lean on me, it’s okay.” On the inside, it was definitely not okay. He accepted your offer, but he hasn’t said a single word to you this whole time. The air was thick and the silence was fueling your uneasiness.

You check him into the nurse’s office and explain the incident. Good thing it’s your lunch period, or your teacher would’ve chewed you out for being late. You check ECHO while the lady logs Yoongi into the records.

[11:37pm] Woah!! Did that girl just slam into Min Yoongi? She’s got balls..

[11:37pm] Should I pretend I don’t know her? Y/n will forgive me, right?

[11:38pm] What the fuck was that??? Why am I on the floor? And in pain??

[11:45pm] ...now what am I going to do? Who is she?

The nurse lady sets him up on one of those bed thingies, and you take this opportunity to apologize again. “I’m so sorry Yoongi, I should’ve been paying attention. If there’s anything I can do to make it up to you, just let me know.” The desperation must’ve been obvious in your voice.

“...What’s your name?” Yoongi stares at you. His eyes don’t waver when you look at him in surprise. He stays unmoving, waiting for your answer.

“My name? Oh, uhm... it’s Y/n. L/n Y/n,” You were not expecting a response from him, since he seemed uninterested when you tried conversing earlier. Yoongi asking for someone’s name is considered to be something really honorable; people would pay anything to have him say that to them. But then again, they would also pay Yoongi to step on them...

“I have a request for you then, Y/n.” He lulls his head to the side, thinking his decision over. “I want you to...” He looks at you with a gaze that you just can’t shake. Your breath is caught in your throat at his stare. What is he going to say? “Be my substitute.”

“Like a substitute teacher? I’m sorry but--” You try to quickly intervene. Does he think you’re an old hag?? You didn’t think you looked that old.. or maybe he means something else? “Or did you mean a substitute as in like for your basketball game because I don’t even know how to play basketball I just--”

“No, calm your tits. I meant you’ll act as my replacement for school and go where I usually go. I need you to be my eyes and ears while I’m stuck here and at home.” He draws out a long sigh,” You just need to collect my assignments and give them to me everyday after school until I get better. If you can, fill me in on what that day was like. It’s not that hard to do, right?”

You let out a sigh of relief. Just then, you hear a knock at the door. Three boys shuffle into the clinic, giving a casual greeting to the nursing staff. Your eyes widen, how could you forget? Of course the other Bangtan Boys would come check up on him. Kim Taehyung, Park jimin, and Jung Hoseok smile to acknowledge you and turn their eyes to Yoongi.

“Are you alright?” Hoseok asks him. He’s bubbling with energy as he speaks. “We were wondering where you went. I almost had a heart attack when they said you were here!!” Hoseok grabs at his chest like he’s in more pain than Yoongi.

Jung Hoseok is known for his positive energy and “legendary” hip work. He’s a street dancer who knows everybody, and everybody knows him. He’s also in medical class for vets, and he does charities in his free time. He’s super sweet and will sometimes send flowers to the fan club.

“Are you still eating lunch with us?” Jimin pipes up. He’s leaning on the nursing bed as he drapes himself dramatically across Yoongi’s shoulders. He whines,”What will we do without you? Please tell me you’re eating with us today..”

Park Jimin is also a dancer, but he does contemporary work. When he dances, he’s graceful, like a mythical creature. He’s shy and shorter than the rest of the guys, which makes people want to dote on him. If he dances with Hoseok though, he flips like a coin. He’ll act like a playboy and tease his audience when given the chance.

“Yah, You know I can’t.” Yoongi gestures to his ankle, and his inability to move due to the immense pain. “The nurse said I should stay in here for at least an hour or two.”

You don’t know if you should leave or stay. You were about to excuse yourself because your conversation with Yoongi ended a while ago. You shouldn’t expect them to talk to you when they don’t know who you are or why you’re there. You pick up your bag and sling it over your shoulder.

Taehyung mentions you, stopping you from escaping so easily. “Who is that?” He points to you. Leave it to Taehyung to point out the elephant in the room...

He’s popular for his charming personality and ethereal looks. Taehyung is in agriculture, and he often helps Hoseok out with the animals. He plays the saxophone, which combined with theatre class, drives the fans nuts. Taehyung also seems to be super observant, and he will point out small details other people seem to miss. If he was doing a police report, he’d probably be able to tell you the exact time the incident happened and what colored crocs the perpetrator was wearing.

As if Yoongi just remembered that you were still here, he makes another request.” Oh, as the new Yoongi, can you also keep an eye on these guys? They’ll cause chaos if I’m not there.”

“New Yoongi?” Jimin looks incredulously at you. “What do you mean--”

Yoongi retorts,” She’s my stand in, my understudy, my alternative, my stunt double, ecetera. Need I say more?” His cold demeanor doesn’t hesitate with the response. He talks as if it was a natural request, but what part of this is natural?

"How would I...” You trail off. You find yourself stammering, unable to voice your concerns. All of the guys, attractive ones at that, were staring at you.”..How would I even do that?”

“Isn’t it obvious? For starters, we all have the same lunch period, so just eat lunch with them or something.” Yoongi shrugs his shoulders,” Do I need to plan everything out for you?”

You’re quick to object,” No!! I’m.. I’m fine. It’s okay.” It’s bad enough that he’s injured, so you shouldn’t worry Yoongi anymore.

Taehyung’s eyes light up. He speaks as if he had a eureka moment. “We have the same forensics class, don’t we? No wonder I recognized you..” You were really hoping he wouldn’t have remembered that. If people see you hanging around these guys, they’ll get the wrong idea.

“Well I guess that settles it. I’ll sit next to you in class, and we can be partners for that new project he’s assigning.” He takes you by the hand. His touch was so sudden and warm that it takes you a minute to realize you’re in the cafeteria already. He looks down at you and smiles. “This is our spot.”

Only when you part from him to grab your bag that you realize he held your hand this entire time. You start to miss his warmth, but you shake out any of those thoughts from your head. What were you thinking? Your heart pounds in your chest, and your cheeks grow hot. You breathe out a shaky breath, trying to calm down. Anyone would feel this way if they were you. You go from being an average joe to suddenly sitting next the the Bangtan Boys? It’s almost like you’re in a fanfiction. You shouldn’t fall in love with one of them, that would be too cliché and very, very dangerous.

You finished settling down your things and find that Taehyung was still waiting for you. Hoseok already rushed to the pizza line, and Jimin was swarmed by girls who made him bento boxes. He smiles politely to them all, unsure of how to decline. His eyes glance at you like a plead for help, but a girl starts to scold him so he looks away.

“What did you want to eat? Noodles?” It was pretty loud in the cafeteria, so Taehyung walked closer. He leaned down and whispered in your ear. “..Or do you want to eat me?” His hot breath tickled your ear. It was a deep and husky voice, one that sent shivers down your spine.

Shocked at his words, you jumped back. “W..What?” You never thought Taehyung was so bold. You’ve heard of him being flirty, but this was cutting it close. It was like dirty talking, but you’ve barely met him!!

He tried to suppress his laugh as he looked at you. “I said: Or do you want to eat meat?” He raises an eyebrow at you. He knows you’re flustered, and feigns innocence. “There’s a rice with two meat deal today. What did you think I said?”

You could’ve sworn he said “me” and not “meat,” but maybe you were thinking into it too much. You decided which one you wanted and Taehyung walks to the line with you. Whilst waiting for your turn, you check ECHO.

It was what you expected. Many of them were like:

[12:03pm] Wtf??? Who is that girl?

[12:03pm] Is she their girlfriend? No-- it has to be a cousin, right? But she’s so plain looking...

[12:04pm] Why is she holding Kim Taehyung’s hand? Don’t tell me--

[12:05pm] Y/n?? What did that girl do now.. ((((゜д゜;))))

Oh yeah, you should probably tell Byeol that you kind of have to sit with Bangtan during lunch now. Good to know that everyone is gawking at you now, I guess. There are hundreds of messages screaming about “who is that girl!1!1!!!!” so you scroll past most of them. One however, catches your eye.

[12:10pm] She’s so cute lol

You don’t think ECHO has ever sent you a compliment like this before. Someone thinks you’re cute? The thought warms your heart. This is the first time you’ve had an admirer.

“Hey, what are you looking at on your phone?” Taehyung rips you to reality. “How do you have so many messages?” He starts to lean over your shoulder to get a glimpse.

Antsy, you turn off your phone and press your hand to his chest to give some distance. “It’s.. It’s my online friends! They wanted to play the new game with me.”

He stands back up, no longer breathing on your neck. “Oh? The one that was released just last week? What was it called...” He ponders for a minute,” Animal Crossing?”

You nod. Conversation starts from there, and you let out that breath you’ve been holding in. You both pay for your meals and head over to the table. You could see Hoseok stuffing his face with pizza and sprite while he scribbles down answers to a worksheet. Jimin is desperately trying to get him to eat some of the bento boxes, but all of his attempts were futile.

“...So I know you’re the New Yoongi or whatever, but what’s your real name?” Hoseok asks you. “If you don’t know me already, I’m Jung Hoseok, but you can call me Hobi!”

Jimin and Taehyung look at each other. You hadn’t even thought to introduce yourself earlier, how much more embarrassing can this day be? Quick, be cool!!

“I’m L/n Y/n, but just Y/n is fine.”

“You probably know us already, but you can call me Tae or any various nickname you can conjure up,” He laughs,” The more creative the better.”

Jimin nudges his shoulder,” Like Spoiled Yogurt Kid?” It’s hard for the smaller one to contain his laughter.

“It was one time!!” Taehyung playfully shoves him away, clearly embarrassed. “It’s not my fault my sleep paralysis demon told me to eat the 3 month old yogurt at like 2 am.” He grumbled,”Ugh, it’s not like I tell everyone about your weird impulses..”

You couldn’t help but stifle a laugh. Hobi notices and adds fuel to the fire,”Yeah, get a load of this guy. He’s blaming all of his mistakes on his sleep paralysis demon. Poor demon, honestly.”

Jimin continues to mock Taehyung teasingly, getting him worked up.“You know what??” Taehyung growls as he whips his head around to face you. His soft brown hair falls over his eyes, and his jaw is clenched as he looks at you with an emotion you can’t quite read. His face is flushed, but he tilts his head up in a cool manner. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he was serving up some bedroom eyes.

He runs his fingers through his hair and speaks with a voice that oozes sex appeal without meaning to,“If you don’t know what to call me, just say Oppa.” Taehyung’s eyes widen as if he realized what came out of his mouth. He covers his lips with the palm of his hand and instinctively looked at how you’d react.

It was your turn to flush from embarrassment. Before your brain could process what just happened, the words croak out,”..o..okay?”

Hobi is choking on his sprite,”Damn, what the--” He continues to try and suppress his coughs,” Who the hell taught you that? Namjoon? Jin?” Hoseok shakes his head in disappointment. You thought it was because he ruined his drink, but then he said,” Ah, I told them to stop doing stuff like that.. If Yoongi were here he probably wouldn’t even know how to scold you.”

Jimin’s mouth is agape in shock. He suddenly doubles over the table, unable to contain the fit of laughter inside of him. “Wha- that was so smooth!” He’s holding onto his stomach for dear life, and his shoulders shake up and down. He gives suggestive eyebrows to Taehyung, whose ears are scorching red. “I didn’t know Taehyung was such a player.”

Taehyung is trying to hide himself with the sleeves of his hoodie. He’s silent at first, but eventually he speaks barely above a whisper. “...I don’t know what came over me..” His words tremble and tread lighter than a feather so scared it might step on another bomb.

"Was it your sleep paralysis demon?” You make a witty remark despite the blush dusted across your face.

Tae sinks farther into his chair,” Oh my god...” He can’t help but laugh a little at your joke. “..Please forget about what I said today.”

Jimin’s laughter dies down as he looks at you. His smile is soft and reassuring. “Don’t worry, Y/n. He’s usually not like this. I swear, we’re all gentlemen.” The bell suddenly rings, signaling that lunch was over. Jimin starts to clean up his spot, stuffing the unfinished bentos into his bag for later. “Ah, Taehyung, you’re saved by the bell this time, but next time you have got to show me some moves.” He winks before leaving for his next class.

Hoseok waves to you and Taehyung,” I’d walk with you two if I could, but my next class is across campus. I gotta dash, but good luck with Forensics!”

You’d almost forgotten about Forensics with Taehyung. Unfortunately, Tae seems to stay unmoving from his spot. You would be like that too if you were him, but you really can’t be late for class. It’s better if you approach him now rather than later, so it’s not as awkward during class.

“Hey...” You start out. He doesn’t respond as his head is till buried in his arms. You hesitate at first, but you put your hand on his shoulder. “...Taehyung Oppa?”

Immediately he shoots up, his eyes are wide and he’s as stiff as a board. He brushes your hand softly away and grabs his bag. He avoids your gaze as he packs up, but he returned his gaze when you started walking in the hallway. His eye’s remain forward, but he speaks to you,“...I didn’t think you’d actually call me that.” He chuckles.

“Oppa?”

He rubs his hand across his face and he licks his lips,” Yeah, that.” He sneaks a glance at you, but since you were already looking at him, he turns his face away.

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

-A/N-

oof it’s been AGES since my last bts fic. If y’all are following me bc of my text au, I’m going to try and update that soon too! I... did not expect to have such a flirtatious Taehyung,, but honestly I’m kinda into it. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

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dopescotlandwarrior · 4 years

Text

Bluegrass-Chapter Seventeen

A special thanks to @statell for making my stories flow

Previous chapters at AO3

Chapter Seventeen

Claire was unnerved when she learned of the deliberate interference of the two jockeys. Jamie told her it was an isolated incident of an owner in New Jersey and described Runner’s protectiveness to bolster her courage. He had given in to Claire’s desire to enter the Kentucky Derby, so his demeanor changed, and he became her coach rather than her doubting boyfriend. There was one race in New York before the Derby, and it was an easy win for Runner. The famous Wood Memorial Stakes at Aqueduct Racetrack where the winning horse gained one hundred points and the purse was one million dollars. The whole world would be watching the remaining Derby contenders battle it out.

There would be two weeks between each of the remaining races and Michael adjusted Runner’s supplements to give the additional energy for such a tight racing schedule. This was when the rubber meets the road, he told Claire. There were two or three stakes races each weekend somewhere in the country, where Derby contenders would gain points if they won or wash out if they lost. Everything was in flux right now he told her. It was the most exciting time of the year for horse racing.

When they arrived in New York they were cocky and confident. Runner drew crowds wherever they landed which fueled Claire’s confidence and need to dominate the race. Runner was favored to win and all she had to do is stay in the saddle.

Claire felt nervous waiting for the race to start. She reached for her juice box and granola bar, not sure if it was her blood sugar or her nerves making her feel anxious and shaky. Jamie grabbed her hand to walk her outside where she waved to the yelling spectators before being launched into the saddle. She was feeling a bit better when a track pony brought her to the gate and Runner loaded without an issue.

There were only eight horses in the Wood Memorial Stakes and Runner was coming out of post position two, statistically proven to launch the most winners. Claire was ready to leave everyone in her dust and take home the winner’s cut of the million-dollar prize money and 100 qualifying points.

When the gate opened, Runner jumped into his lane and quickly passed one horse at a time until he was neck and neck with the third-place horse. To Claire, he was conserving his strength until the dash to the finish line. When Runner did not accelerate after the second turn Claire knew something was wrong. He seemed to be giving all he had just to maintain his third position. As the finish line approached, the lead horse was seven lengths ahead and there was no time to catch him. They wouldn’t win, they couldn’t win, and she felt the shock of that truth run through her body.

Claire’s brain turned off the roar of the crowd, and it became silent. It turned off the thundering hooves and all other noise except her own breathing and Runner’s. When she crossed the finish line in third place all the noise came crashing back into her head as Runner slowed to a trot immediately.

It was very hard to comprehend losing the race because she had complete confidence Runner would win. A track pony took her reins and delivered her to the men waiting, all looking grim. Jason walked the big colt until he cooled off and Jamie pulled Claire into the shade. She cried on his shoulder as he reassured her it was just one race, and Runner would be ready for the Derby in two weeks.

Jason noticed Runner tossed his head when the bit moved even slightly from Jason holding the reigns. It was clear he was in pain and Jason got the horse back to Claire right away. Pulling the bridal off hurt so much he reared in protest and refused to open his mouth. Claire grabbed the bridal and put her hand on his neck. She told him to relax, no one would force him and in ten minutes she asked him to open his mouth when he was ready. He finally did and the pain was so obvious Claire winced.

She could feel the fever in his muzzle and chest and felt panic creeping up her spine. When she could finally look in his mouth the giant abscess dropped down from the roof of his mouth the size of a golf ball and full of pus. She realized the bit had rubbed against the pressure and pain throughout the race.

He was given an injection of pain killer and antibiotics by the track veterinarian who helped hold him for Claire to lance the abscess and flush it with Hydrogen Peroxide. It was a very painful procedure, but Claire was fast and thorough alleviating the pressure the instant she cut into the bulging balloon and Runner settled down for the remainder of the procedure.

They all thanked the track vet for his assistance and packed up to fly Runner home. The reporter from Sports Illustrated strolled through the stalls and caught the last few minutes of the surgery. He expected something like this and caught Jason in the aisle telling him to shake Runner’s hay and check the wood chips in his stall for razor blades, pins, or burs. He had seen the near collision of the race in New Jersey and thought it prudent to check for foul play.

Jamie and Claire drove Runner to the airport and explained the abscess and surgery to the handlers. Once Runner was dozing in his transport stall the captain came in and spoke to them running his hand down the colt’s neck. Claire kissed his nose softly and told him to sleep tight.

When they returned to Aqueduct to pick up the guys, both Michael and Jason poured huge sharp burs found in the hay and floor, into Jamie’s hand. There were six burs that drew blood when Jamie pushed his finger into the points. Jamie looked up at the numerous cameras throughout the building and went to find the barn manager.

Before boarding the plane, Jamie called Rupert to warn him they would be picking up a drunk Colt with a sore mouth. Rupert sounded crushed they lost the race but assured Jamie they would be extra gentle with the laddie.

Claire was quiet on the trip back to Kentucky. After checking the foals and Runner she just wanted to go to the house and sit in silence for a while. Jamie kissed her before she got out of his truck and promised to be quick with his chores.

Claire sat on the patio and admired the stars shining brightly above her. She replayed the race, minute by minute, and decided the only reason they did not win was the pain in Runner’s mouth. They all knew from that point forward; Runner would be guarded while away at a race and they would provide their own food and hay. She felt completely exhausted and leaned her head back on the lounge. She would not let this discourage her from the Derby. They had two weeks to heal his mouth and they would be unbeatable again.

Jamie sifted through his mail quickly, wanting to get back home and relax with Claire. He almost missed it, the envelope from the Kentucky racing commission. Thinking he had forgotten one of the many fees required for the Derby he opened the envelope and felt his heart fall into his stomach. He launched from his chair and ran to catch Michael.

“She has raced at Churchill Downs twice, why is this coming up now?” Michael’s face was red and his eyes bugged out. “This is bullshit!”

Jamie looked at the floor. His heart was beating hard enough to give him a heart attack, so he took deep breaths and tried to calm down.

“I don’t know who is behind her disqualification, but I know what to do about it Jamie. Tell Claire I’m on this and to keep the faith. I’ll see ya tomorrow.”

The snail’s pace at which Jamie walked from his truck to the house broke land speed records. It was that slow. He would pay any price to keep this information from Claire but there was no way out from this truth. It was still difficult to breathe and he stopped at the garage and bent over to steady himself, before he found Claire and broke her heart.

She was walking somewhere feeling peaceful and happy when a little girl handed her a bouquet of beautiful flowers. She smiled at the girl and thanked her pulling one rose out of the bunch and handing it to her. The sun was so warm, but her cheek was suddenly very cool. Jamie’s hand on her cheek brought her quickly out of her dream and she smiled at him for the nine seconds it took to register the sadness in his eyes. She sat up quickly.

“What is it, Jamie?”

She saw the rims of his eyes, deep red from tears that were coming, and felt alarms going off in her head. She wanted to run and get away from the pain she knew was coming.

“Is it Runner? The foals? Is anyone hurt?”

Jamie grabbed both of her hands and fought his emotion until he could calmly speak. It was no more than a whisper.

“Ye’ve been disqualified from the Derby lass. Your jockey license does not meet the requirements of the track because you’re an apprentice. The Kentucky Horse Racing authority states there is no appealing this ruling. Runner can enter the race with a qualified jockey, but we both know that won’t happen.”

“Jamie?”

He could hear her voice, still strong, still hopeful, and he hated the world at that moment because there were no options.

“I’m sorry, love. Michael said he was on it and left, but the letter is clear, there is no appeal.”

Claire launched out of the lounge, suddenly very awake, fighting the urge to scream about her own helplessness and the cruel forces that stole her dream of winning the Kentucky Derby.

“He is Horse of the Year for Christ’s sake. How can they disqualify him?” She spoke softly like she couldn’t summon the strength for more volume.

Runner is not disqualified, only you sweetheart. When he doesn’t race, the world will be very unkind and make up their own reasons. I found dozens of comments online about the Wood Memorial. People are sayin it’s a fault in his breeding, findin all kinds of other reasons for his loss.

He reached for Claire and she hugged him with the dawning knowledge of what he was losing too. They held each other up until they could walk upstairs and said not another word about it. What could be said?

Runner’s mouth healed with no more sign of infection by the following week. He repeatedly tried to engage Claire, but she was in her own head and quiet with everyone else in the barn. She just didn’t have anything to say. Each morning brought her one day closer to the most famous race in the history of horse racing and she couldn’t go. She couldn’t get the knot out of her stomach or concentrate on anything else but the race she would miss. The town was energized with the upcoming festivities that were broadcast from radio shows and city news continuously. It was enough to drive her mad, so she just shut down.

Michael never came back after the night he read the commission’s letter. He said he would fix this and then vanished. It felt like the final insult to Jamie, but reminded himself that Michael was here to write the story of Midnight Runner, and if he didn’t enter the Derby there wasn’t much to write about.

Jamie and the other guys tried to pull Claire out of her funk until she begged them to let her be. She apologized for being moody and promised to bounce back if they would just leave her alone. She promised Jamie she would feel better when the race was over and then went back into her head.

The last foal dropped on Thursday night. Claire delivered the filly late at night with Jamie’s assistance. The Derby was two days away. When she tried to smile at him the corners of her mouth quivered a bit and he could plainly see she felt no smile on the inside.

Jamie set up his cot near the stalls and went to find Claire. He almost missed her standing behind Runner who was still as a statue and very awake.

“Sassenach?”

He pulled her to him and she sobbed like her very life was draining away. All he could do is hold her and pull her to his cot so he could wrap himself around her. When he heard the steady breathing of his sleeping love, he said the Gaelic prayer for courage, strength, and love. He said it for her so she could find her happiness when this nightmare was over. He slept little so she would feel his grip on her through the night. His wounded love.

The next morning, the big doors opened with a crash bringing both Jamie and Claire to their feet in seconds. Both blinking against the morning light wondering what catastrophe had befallen them now.

“Jamie! Jamie!! Go find him squirt and hurry. Jamie, goddammit, where are you?!”

“What the devil is this about?” Jamie growled at Michael, “what’s happened to ye?”

“I have been pounding on your front door for thirty minutes. Finally decided you were already here. Where the hell is Claire? Me and Jason will be twiddling our thumbs out there waiting for our rider. We have some work to do, so where is she?”

“What are ye doin Michael? There is no more racin and I’m sure ye remember that.”

Claire sat on the cot and listened with little interest in Michael’s ranting.

“Oh, sorry, what the fuck is wrong with me? Here.”

Jamie took the new license and studied the signature from the racing authority. It was a Journeyman’s license and looked legitimate but that was impossible.

“What trickery is this Michael?”

“No tricks, promise. The journeyman license has requirements for races, time in the saddle, experience on the track and with other horses, among other things. Poor Claire had no handlers to workout the Colt because he wouldn’t allow it. Consequently, she logged enough hours in the saddle, on the track, and in the race to qualify for Journeyman.”

Jamie stared at the license waiting for it to suddenly turn to dust and blow away. “How did ye do it?”

Michael smiled at Jamie, “the governor’s dad and my old man go way back. I grew up around their family and the governor himself was my babysitter on several occasions. It took a week and a half to see him, but I told him about Claire and Runner, the unique circumstances of their partnership, I avoided the whole talking to animals thing. I told him they deserve a space in the gate tomorrow. He agreed and we met with the Kentucky Horse Racing Authority and figured out how she could qualify for a Journeyman’s license. That is how I did it.”

The men saw Claire run by them like a streak. Ten minutes later she was pulling her helmet on and walking toward them with a beautiful blush in her cheeks.

“I love you Michael and I have the rest of my life to thank you, but right now we need to ride. The race starts in twenty-eight hours, let’s go.”

Claire was off toward Runner’s stall and came racing back to kiss Jamie hard and show him a brilliant smile.

“We run for the roses tomorrow, just like we planned, my precious love.” Then she was gone, leaving a smiling Rupert and Angus in her wake.

Jamie stood rooted to the ground, shaking his head and enjoying the moment. There would be time to panic trackside tomorrow, this was too good to ruin. He decided at that moment to host a celebration, tomorrow night, win or lose it would celebrate the perseverance and dedication of a phenomenal woman and horse. One way or another he would see it done.

Michael watched Runner with excitement. The rest made him a bit hot, but he used the energy for speed and Claire could hardly keep him breezing. It was a great workout and Michael told Claire she would be in the money tomorrow with him running like that.

“Actually Michael, I plan to win tomorrow but thank you for the good wishes.”

When Jamie finally got Claire into bed that night, she seemed tired enough to sleep filling him with relief. The enormity of the race tomorrow was mind-boggling to him. Of the billions of people in the world, only twenty-two are chosen each year to compete on a track of superstar Thoroughbreds. Because the Derby was open only to three-year-olds, those horses that didn’t make the cut lost the opportunity forever. Jamie held her close until her breathing became deep and even. He stopped thinking and dropped into the void.

Jamie’s sleep became fitful later in the night and he turned to hold his Sassenach only to find an empty bed. It took a while to find her and he approached quietly and listened to her grill Runner while she paced the aisle. He could see Porcelain’s big eyes watching Claire, and Runner, like a new recruit standing at attention. She looked like a funny little commander pacing in her robe and slippers and Jamie’s chuckle made her stop and look up.

“Suppose ye let Runner sleep a bit before the big race mo chridhe. I’m lonely for ye.”

The Kentucky Derby is a race like no other as people come from all over the world in their finery and decorative hats to witness the race and socialize. One hundred fifty thousand spectators fill every seat, inside and out, including celebrities from movie stars to Saudi princes. The infield is a giant party for the who’s who and a bank of photographers sit patiently along the side of the track. The event is bigger than the Super Bowl or the World Series, all steeped in history and tradition.

Claire was overwhelmed by the enormity of the event and found it hard to focus on the horses she would have to beat. When she was ready to mount for the parade and warm-up, Jamie stopped her and whispered in her ear.

“This is a once in a lifetime race for both of ye Sassenach, so feel every minute of it. Just gettin here means yer a winner so be proud of him and yerself lass and know how much I love ye.” He kissed her softly, “one more thing, the colt runs like a fat cow. Tell him I said so.”

Claire’s lead pony was waiting and pulled Runner’s reins to wrap around the horn of his saddle. When Runner started to act up, he would pull his head to the pony’s to settle him down. Claire was released to warm up and she looked at the staggering amount of people and felt the deafening noise they were making. She hoped Runner would relax a bit and stay in a safe range with all this noise, and color.

Runner was hot as they ponied to the gate. He was ready to explode from high-calorie food all week and too much rest. There was some acting out getting loaded into the gate as he reared up and told them to leave him alone. Claire waved the handlers back and asked them to let him load without the manhandling. He felt tense waiting for the bell and Claire willed the doors to slam open so she could direct all his extra energy. Each minute seemed like an hour.

Claire wrapped Runner's mane through her fingers and prepared to get off his back. She had spent several hours talking to him about winning by the space between him and the next horse, trying to make him understand it was not only beating the individual horses that mattered. Runner was looking for Sham and Angle Light, making Claire nervous about him acting up before they could get out of the gate.

“Jamie said you run like a fat cow. Just sayin”

The doors slammed open in the next minute and twenty-one horses made a mad dash for the track. When Runner jumped out, she could feel his extra energy and she watched for the best way through the mess of horses ahead.

Runner was doing little more than keeping pace with the pack until the first turn when he broke to the outside and picked up his speed. He stayed on the outside down the backstretch passing horses, one after the other. He overtook the pack and headed for the front seven horses. Claire could see Sham was in third place coming out of the second turn and they were still five horses behind him. Runner was increasing his speed and she tucked tight going into the home stretch. She watched horse after horse fade away in a blur as Runner accelerated toward the lead horse. He didn’t dawdle and run neck and neck like he usually did, it was all business today as she felt him accelerate one last time.

The noise from the crowd, the thundering hooves, and the loudspeaker barking the positions of the horses, all went away. Claire knew they were lengths ahead of the other horses and stretched her arms to allow the maximum lengthening of Runner’s stride. She watched the finish line come closer, scared shitless another horse would zoom past her and take the glory. She couldn’t help herself from yelling at Runner to hurry. The finish line was five feet ahead and she felt his front legs reach forward like in slow motion and saw the flash of the camera. She turned her head to the left and saw no other horse. She turned her head to the right and saw no other horse.

Claire was not processing anything during the next minute. She was trying to slow Runner down and looking around her at the other horses and jockeys sporadically spaced. So the race was over and I don’t know what to do now, she thought. As she came around the turn she saw Jamie and Michael jumping as high as they could and pointing at her. She started crying when she looked at Jamie. She could read his lips and see his incredible face. Jamie says I won, she thought and in the next second the deafening noise of the crowd came back and she heard the announcer say “the winner, Midnight Runner, by three lengths.

“Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God! Runner! You won, you won!! You won the Kentucky Derby!! Jesus H Roosevelt Christ, we just won the Kentucky Derby! She pulled on his mouth to slow him down and stood triumphantly in her stirrups, crop held high, rubbing her sleeve over her eyes to see the crowd through her gushing tears. When Runner had slowed to a trot, she found the governor who had abandoned his fancy observation box to get closer to the track.

Claire pulled Runner to a stop in front of the governor and unsnapped her helmet. Her hands were shaking so hard she could barely manage, but she pulled off her helmet in a salute as her tears flowed down her dirty cheeks. Her eyes locked with his for a brief moment and he nodded to her and smiled.

“Your team is busting at the seams Claire, let’s get you to the winner’s circle.”

Her favorite handler and his pony guided Runner to the incredulous faces of Jamie, Michael, and Jason. Claire tried to stop crying as they draped Runner in the garland of roses. Claire felt every moment like it was a sole event and smiled through her tears at the camera followed by a bank of cameras that flashed continuously. Runner was a stunning gentleman, watching the weird goings-on of the people all around him. He was telling them all that he was the fastest horse but only Claire heard him. She dropped her body down on his neck, “you are the greatest horse that ever lived.”

When Claire sat back in her saddle the reporters asked what she just said to the horse, making her laugh. When she slid into Jamie’s arms there were cameras flashing and questions shouted. As she hugged each man on her team the cameras caught it all. They were clamoring for her attention until she walked over to Runner and placed her cheek against his head so she could thank him. The reporters were suddenly quiet but the air around them flashed continuously and didn’t stop.

The reporters were pressing in making Claire feel like she couldn’t breathe. Jamie tried to steer her away, but she gave a look that said she was fine to stay. She just won the Kentucky Derby, after all, the first woman in history. She could stay for a while.

It was many interviews and hours later before they had Runner packed up and loaded into the trailer. Claire was so high she had trouble feeling her feet as she walked, and her smile looked as permanent as Jamie’s.

Jamie and Claire walked toward Runner’s wing and Jamie held her hand to make sure she didn’t get away. When they turned the corner a table had been set up next to the stalls and a crowd of people stood up and said surprise! One by one, her friends gave hugs and congratulations. Michael, Jason, the governor, racing commissioner, Molly, Lulu, Angus and Rupert. The people kept coming and Claire saw a blonde head at the end of the table sitting next to Molly. She kept watching that direction as she hugged more and more people. When the hugging stopped, Molly stood up and pulled the arm of the blonde until he stood up.

And there he was.

Dusty blushed crimson as he approached and hugged his dearest friend. Claire was completely overwhelmed by this and refused to let him go. It was a hug worth a whole year to both of them and Claire cried with happiness. Dusty shook hands with Jamie and the barn personnel he remembered, checking his watch every other minute. When they all sat down to eat a catered dinner arranged the night before by Jamie, Dusty was gone and Claire’s heart sank.

“Molly, where is Dustin?”

“He is coming right back, maybe thirty minutes. He has something important to do.”

Molly’s voice was relaxed and nonchalant, so Claire dropped it and fed her ravenous hunger stealing kisses from Jamie between bites. The governor and commissioner nibbled a bit and excused themselves from the party. Claire shook both their hands and with tears rolling down her cheeks, again, she thanked them from the bottom of her heart.

Returning to the table she had five minutes to relax before Dusty walked back in, holding the hand of a tiny girl with long blonde hair and big blue eyes. She was introduced as Dusty’s wife and Claire shot out of her chair to hug the stuffing out of her while Dusty laughed. It was quite a shock to everyone but Molly who had become Dusty’s dear friend over the hours and hours of phone calls. Molly knew Dusty’s story, from his heartbreaking love for Claire, through his lonely months at school when he wanted to quit, to his new found love. It was Molly who pulled him through and encouraged him to approach the girl named Summer.

Claire looked from Dusty to Summer with a brilliant smile. “You two look like shiny new pennies.”

“And they both have a 4.0!” Molly added.

After much food and drink the stories started and each of Claire’s good friends had something hilarious to tell, including Jamie who recounted Claire’s drunk phone call a very long time ago. Molly and Lulu were complicit with their giggling. Dustin told them all how he toppled Claire’s yoga position by honking his horn and had to speak to her cowboy boots when she did a headstand where she fell.

Claire watched Dustin talk, smile, and remember a day in their life together a long time ago. She was so proud of him and couldn’t wait to catch up on every single moment of his life during the past year. Deep down she knew, had always known, what kept him away and she was so happy he found such a perfect partner to share his life with.

The caterers were cleaning up and carrying everything to their van. On the last trip, they brought an enormous cake with sparklers all over it. Claire was crying again when she read “Kentucky Derby Winner” and below that, “1st woman in history.” She walked over to Runner and pressed her face into his neck, thanking him for making her a winner, just like he promised so many months before. She was seeing sugar cubes in her mind and laughed at his hopeful face before running to Jamie’s office to get handfuls for the most amazing horse that ever lived. Her best four-legged friend.

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hms-chill · 4 years

Text

The Long Way

A nice fun Liam/Spencer fic, because these boys deserve the world.

Summary: (Alternately titled “SOMEONE GIVE LIAM A HUG” or “Stronk Farm Boyfriends”)Liam’s just finishing up vet school, and he’s a month shy of achieving the thing he’s been working for since he was a kid. When he gets called out to a farm to witness a calf birth and notices something wrong, under-researched, and curable, it’s the perfect thing to treat and document so he can write a paper that will jump-start his career. Of course, the fact that the calf is owned by a cute dairy farmer doesn’t hurt, either.

Chapter one // Chapter two // Chapter 3 // Chapter 4 // On AO3

Chapter 5

They climb out of the truck, and the sun is out, and Liam feels like a different person than he was when they got in. Somehow, it's like he's let all his questions, fears, and doubts fall away, shutting them up as he shuts the truck's door. Hopefully, they'll disappear into whatever void exists under and between car seats and never be seen again. Spencer and the picnic basket lead the way to a table, and Liam follows with his backpack slung over a shoulder. It's only once Spencer starts unpacking the picnic basket and urging him to eat that Liam realizes how hungry he is.

"Dude, have you eaten anything today?" Spencer asks. There's a hint of joke in his tone, but the foundation is worried.

"I... had breakfast, I think. One of the side effects of withdrawal was nausea, so I... it wasn't exactly motivating to eat, especially when it's just ramen again." That's supposed to be a joke, sort of, a play on the starving student stereotype. But Spencer just looks worried, and Liam scrambles to reassure him. "I'm fine. It's... it's not a big deal or anything; now that I'm back on the meds I should be fine. Just a week of your mom's food spoiled me. Before y'all, I hadn't had a real home-cooked meal in... god, eight years I think? I mean, my friends and I made stuff, but nothing with the same effort and love baked in."

It's not a big deal, but Spencer looks even more concerned. "Oh no. That’s... my mom is going to make you so much food when she finds out; you have no idea.”

“Don’t... you don’t have to tell her." Liam says quickly, trying not to think about how much he already owes Spencer's mom. "I... I’d really rather she didn’t worry; she seems sweet but I don’t need... I’m okay. I’m doing fine, and it’s not for much longer if I pass, and you all got me so much already.”

Spencer's quiet for a moment, then he says, "Why don't you come out to the farm after you're done with the test? We can celebrate with more homemade food. They could be there if you want to meet them, or it could be just us and whoever else you want. Up to you."

"I'd like that. Maybe... I don't know if your parents would like me all that much; I'm not exactly... parents don't tend to like me, and I don't want to butt in or anything, but if you want them there then I don't mind."

"Alright; it'll be us and Annie, and I'll make sure to have something home cooked. Anyone else you want to come? We could do a little celebration."

"You... we don't have to make it a thing; it--"

"If you're going to say it isn't a big deal, after how much we both know it's been stressing you out, I'm going to riot. It matters. This is a big thing, and it deserves to be celebrated. And so do you." Spencer looks so confident, and so sure of himself and the absolute fact of what he's just said that Liam can't find anything to say in response. He just looks down at the food in front of him, but even that is a sign of Spencer's kindness, and he's almost overwhelmed with it all.

"Thank you," he says after a moment. "For... everything, not just wanting to celebrate the NAVLE with me. I'm sorry if I'm weird about it; this is... new. For me. But I do appreciate it. So thank you."

“Of course. And I mean it, you do deserve to be celebrated. You’re a really great guy, and you worked so hard for this. We’ll do a special dinner next week, and if you want Bell or anyone there, we’ll have them.”

“I’d like that, but she... she lives a few hours away with my sister, and I wouldn’t want to have to pick her up after the test or take her back between that night and work the next morning. Thank you, though, for thinking of her. If she was closer, I'd definitely want her there."

"Of course." If Spencer's honest with himself, he's always thinking of Bell. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he's always worried about her and what she'd say. Liam's love for her is as clear as day. He lights up when he talks about her, how she's his girl and he'd do anything to make her happy. He talks about wanting to look after her when she gets old, how they'd grown up together and she'd been there with him through everything. Once, he'd said that she's the only girl he'll ever really love. He is so, so in love with her, and every now and then when he mentions her, Spencer can tell it breaks Liam's heart that they can't be together.

He’s constantly offering to show Spencer pictures of how cute she is, or how gorgeous and regal, but Spencer's always said no. Because if Bell is as stunning and wonderful as Liam says, and if they're really as in love as they seem, then no matter how much of a crush he has, Spencer doesn't stand a chance. At least if he doesn't have to see her, it makes it easier somehow. He can pretend she's not real, or that he and Liam have a shot. If nothing else, he at least doesn't have to see the person Liam's so close to.

"I... I was about to thank you again," Liam says, laughing a bit and pulling Spencer out of his head. "I really don't... it's been a long time since I had someone who'd look out for me like this. I appreciate it a lot."

"Well, you've got me and my parents and our neighbors now; that's at least five people who'd be willing to fight for and love you. And Bell would, too, or at least I hope she would. For how much you love her, I hope she's loving you back."

"Oh, yeah, I mean, she would if she could. She did, back when we were staying together; she helped so much then. I... I swear she's the only reason I'm doing as well as I am today, which isn't saying much, but it... it could be worse, I suppose. It's just harder now, since we're not in the same place."

Spencer nods, and Liam asks about Annie after a moment, so they watch the video of her playing again, then Spencer rambles about things at the farm so Liam can eat. When he's finished, they get his flash cards and study guide, and Spencer listens while he talks about cow poop and horse bacteria and rabbit parasites as the sun sets.

It's more obvious than ever how ready for this test he is. Spencer's known he's smart for a while, but something about the way he answers questions now, the quiet assurance as they flip through flash cards and practice questions, solidifies the fact in Spencer's mind. Liam's going to do well.

"Hey, you're... you're really smart," he says as they come to a break, looking at Liam with a bit of a smile. "I know I've said to before, and I know you don't really believe me, but you're going to crush this test."

"Thanks. I... I hope I'm ready. I just don't want to let anyone down."

"Well, I don't know who else you're talking about, but I'm already really proud of you. And you're working so hard, I bet anyone else would be proud, too."

"Thanks, but it's more... I had to crowdfund this entry fee. That's... that's part of why I'm taking it now instead of in the fall when everyone else did; I had to raise enough. So I just... I don't want to let down the people who helped me out. I couldn't have taken it otherwise, so I... I feel like if I don't do well, it'll be a waste of their money and belief in me."

He's looking down at the notes in front of him, chewing on his bottom lip, but he looks up as Spencer gets up to come around behind him and rub his shoulders. He seems surprised for a second, then leans into it, letting his head fall back onto Spencer's chest as Spencer rubs the tension out of his shoulders.

"I'm sorry I can't make any of this easier, but I can tell you that anyone who helped you get here should and would be so, so proud of you. You're doing your best, and that's all anyone could ask for."

"Thank you," Liam says, letting his eyes close for a second as Spencer works through a particularly tense knot in his shoulder. "That's... I'm trying to believe that."

"If you want, you could come out to the farm tomorrow. I've got some work, but if you wanted to study in the house or a barn, we could find you a place. I might even put you to work when that big brain of yours needs a break."

"I don't want to be in the way," Liam says, but Spencer just shakes his head.

"Nonsense. I mean, you don't have to, obviously, but if you want, it would be nice not to have to eat meals alone. The farm feels empty."

"If you're sure I wouldn't be in the way, I'd like that," Liam says. He's still got his head leaned on Spencer's chest, but despite being upside down, his smile looks almost normal. It's miles better than it was when they'd first met up.

A bit of hair flops down into his face as he and Spencer make eye contact, and he blows at it a bit. It lands in the exact same place, and he blows at it again, going cross-eyed as he stares at it and almost smiling as it flutters above him for a moment. When it falls right back where it was, Spencer takes one hand off Liam's shoulder and brushes it away. As he does, his fingers barely skimming Liam's forehead, their eyes catch again, and for a split second, Spencer can't breathe. He's sure that Liam can hear his heart thumping against his chest, but he can't remember how to make himself care. He can't remember how to do anything but look at Liam's face, taking in the bags under his eyes and the stubble on his chin, the flop of hair on his forehead and the way his lashes fan out when he blinks. But no matter what else he looks at, he keeps being drawn back to Liam's eyes. They're stunning. There's something about them, a fierceness and a light that captivates Spencer. He's aware that he's been looking at Liam for too long, and that he should look away, but somewhere, he realizes that it takes two people to make eye contact, and Liam isn't looking away, either.

Then a crow caws, a little too close to the food, and Spencer looks over to make sure he's not stealing anything important, breaking the spell.

"It's, uh, is it getting late?" Liam asks, moving his head off Spencer's chest to rub the back of his neck as he checks his phone. Spencer gives his shoulders a last squeeze and steps back; they're still tense but better than they were.

"It might feel that way; when did you get up?"

"Oh, definitely way too early. And, you know, it's... it's been a long one. I should probably head home, but, um, if you're sure I won't be in the way, I'll see you tomorrow?"

"That sounds good." They finalize plans as they pack the picnic basket, and Spencer insists that Liam take home the leftovers, so the picnic basket ends up in the back seat of Liam's car next to two care packages and a little cooler of fresh milk and veggies.

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#rwrb fanfic #rwrb #liam (rwrb)#Spencer (rwrb)#liam/spencer #the long way #red white and royal blue

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beautysbeast-sesskagstyle · 5 years

Text

Blossoms and The Abyss

SessKag Week Day 1

July 29th, Monday, Prompts:

Carnation- fascination, distinction, love

________________________________________________________________________

Chapter 1 - College Daze

Somewhere in the distance, a thoroughly annoying buzzing sound was steadily getting louder and making his left ear tick. But he didn't want to get up. He knew what sort of day awaited him- the same bleak day as yesterday was...and the day before that...and the day before that. Reaching out blindly, Sesshoumaru hit the snooze button on his alarm clock and burrowed deeper into his pillow. There. Problem solved...for about five minutes. So he thought...

"Oh, Sesshoumaru!" Toga's frustratingly gleeful voice kept him from drifting back into nothingness. A frown pulled at the younger Daiyoukai's lips as the metallic sound of the door handle twisting caught his attention. "You won't believe..." His father's voice paused as he strode right on into Sesshoumaru's territory without any sort of askance. Parents. He barely resisted the urge to snort. Even after several centuries, Toga had no respect for personal boundaries... "Well, now. I can't remember the last time you slept in."

"It is not sleeping in if the individual is not asleep," Sesshoumaru replied in a deep, husky timbre that suggested that he had woken not too long ago. "I am simply resting."

"I see," Toga chuckled, and Sesshoumaru barely restrained his growl of irritation.

"What do you want, Father?"

"I was just coming to inform you that the Higurashi miko will finally be coming to Awaseru Academy," he could hear the grin in his father's voice. And then the infernal alarm went off again...Sesshoumaru's hand firmly pressed the large snooze button on top.

"Hrrmnn....the Shikon Miko?" Sesshoumaru asked slowly, curiosity nagging at him. Little was known about the miko- her family had kept her on their sacred grounds with numerous wards in place that repelled demons. It couldn't keep him away, but he'd had no reason to venture there. With his curiosity piqued, Sesshoumaru reluctantly bid any semblance of sleep goodbye.

"That's the one. Because Inuyasha failed to protect her in her last life fifty years ago...that responsibility now falls to you."

"Joy," Sesshoumaru replied with all the enthusiasm of a dog at the vet. His fair mood had instantly soured. "How is it that I end up cleaning up Inuyasha's mistakes?" He finally cracked his molten golden eyes open, silver lashes fluttering against his pale cheeks. He managed to glare at his father as his eyes adjusted to the dim florescent light filtering in from the hallway.

"You still refuse to take your rightful place as Lord of the West so that I may step down," Toga spoke, Sesshoumaru able to see him clearly now. His brow was drawn, and his lips thinned into a tight line. He knew that look...stern disappointment. It no longer bothered Sesshoumaru. He had his reasons for not stepping up...they simply did not want to listen. "Since I cannot, and Inuyasha has failed the task, you must be the one to step up and take on the responsibility...lest it fall to Kouga. And we all know how that would end..." Sesshoumaru could only let out a disgruntled grunt at that, his own lips pulling into a deep frown. Kouga. Prince of the East. Renown for his viciousness and womanizing ways. No...that wouldn't end well at all. "So...up and at 'em!" As if to punctuate his words, the damnable alarm clock went off again. With a snarl, Sesshoumaru grasped the clock, intending to turn it off...but it crushed into hundreds of pieces in his hand instead...at least it was finally silent.

"Hrrrmm...," Sesshoumaru's bare chest rumbled with his disgruntled hum as Toga's chuckling reached his ears. He opened his hand and let the pieces slide to the floor with a clatter, batteries and all. "I suppose I shall have to buy a new one on my way home from school."

"Or you may not wake tomorrow," Toga's teasing tone had Sesshoumaru gazing back at the older male, amusement dancing in his bright golden eyes. "Get up and get dressed, Sesshoumaru. You have a full day ahead of you. Breakfast will be waiting." Just as abruptly as he entered, Toga left Sesshoumaru's territory with a click of the door. The younger Daiyoukai waited for the older Daiyoukai's footfalls to retreat down the hall before he collapsed back in bed, his silvery hair falling all around him in a silken mess.

For the first time in a very long time, Sesshoumaru did not feel like getting up. If it had been any other day, his father would have allowed it and covered for him. It was not often Sesshoumaru felt this tired...but it wasn't simply from exertion or the frustrating repetition of day to day life that blurred days together. Although that certainly didn't help. No...Sesshoumaru was weary in his very soul. It felt like something very powerful had bound him in youki-sealing chains and was steadily dragging him into the deepest, darkest depths of the ocean. No hope, no air, no light, just pressure all around and a depersonalization that left him largely apathetic. This wasn't the first time...and he knew it wouldn't be the last, either.

"In the least...today will be more eventful than yesterday," Sesshoumaru spoke his thought aloud with a mirthless chuckle. It took some effort, but he managed to drag himself out of bed to begin his morning routine he'd been practicing for nearly a millennia now. Wash his face, brush his teeth, brush his hair out, and put on the clothes he'd set out the night before. His garb had vastly changed over time, and had modernized so that he would fit in with the humans. Awaseru Academy, his college as elected by the demon Lords and top miko, monk, and taijiya, had its own uniform code. Demon males had to dress in black slacks, a crimson or black undershirt, and a black blazer with its red, white, and black insignia on the upper left side. He had set aside just that, with a crimson undershirt and a silver watch Sesshoumaru always wore on his left wrist.

After dressing, the young Daiyoukai grabbed his blue and black canvas backpack and made his way through the winding hallways of their mansion home to the large dining room. Toga was already seated at the head of the table, with Inukimi at his left side. Inuyasha had a seat in the middle of the twenty-seating table. He was leaning back in his chair so that only two legs balanced him on the hardwood floors, with his arms folded behind his head.

"Took ya long enough," the halfbreed snorted as Sesshoumaru passed him to sit between Inuyasha and their parents. Neither at his father's right side nor at Inuyasha's side, a subtle stand that had his mother rubbing her temples. He slid his backpack beside his chair neatly as he sat on it, pointedly ignoring his half-brother.

"This one apologizes for my tardiness," Sesshoumaru spoke, smoothing his pants and sitting perfectly upright in his chair. As was expected of him.

"You're excused," Toga waved off before any more could be said. "It's been a while since you've slept in, and I'm sure you needed the rest. Itadakimasu." He took a bite from his prefixed plate of various bloody meats. As per custom, once the Alpha had eaten the first bite, the others could then eat from their own plates.

"Finally!" Inuyasha grumbled. "Itadakimasu!" He started in on his lightly cooked meat as Sesshoumaru really took in the spread before him. There were three platters with lightly warmed raw meats, and one platter with lightly cooked meats for Inuyasha. The raw meats were venison, pork, and beef. Nothing truly wild or gamey...probably bought from livestock owners. His fangs tingled, itching to tear into the flesh of a living deer. It wasn't often he got to hunt anymore...and even less often in his true form. It had been a century since his last transformation...

"Are you going to sit there and fantasize about the meat, or are you actually going to eat it?" Inukimi shot off, Sesshoumaru letting out a sigh as he met his mother's sunset golden orbs. Inuyasha snickered and Toga shot her a look.

"I am not very hungry." It wasn't a lie...he didn't feel like eating. Especially not this meat. And he didn't miss the way Toga refocused his attention on him.

"Overtired and not hungry? Are you out doing things late at night we should know about, Sesshoumaru?" Inukimi pressed in that irritating way of hers that would usually rile him up. It certainly choked Inuyasha up. The comment made him inhale his food by accident, no doubt. But Sesshoumaru...felt nothing more than exhaustion.

"You can check the security system if you wish," he replied, completely unfazed. "But you will find that I did not leave my rooms last night...and no one snuck in." He added onto his statement to nip that possible argument in the bud. Her lips pursed, and he knew he'd made the right decision. Kami...he hadn't lain with a female in....well, centuries, at least. Females did not interest him. Neither did power, as it had in the Feudal Era. Very little did these days...

"Are you feeling well?" Toga asked, brow furrowed. Obviously trying to puzzle him out.

"I am tired, father...that is all," Sesshoumaru shrugged off, not missing the way his parents shared a look as he turned back to his plate. "Itadakimasu." He used chopsticks to pull some venison onto his plate and began to eat...for the sake of normalcy and halting more troublesome questions. It was fairly quiet for the remainder of the meal.

"Before you go...," Toga spoke up as Sesshoumaru pushed his plate away. Dread started to creep in...what now? "You will need to go to the Higurashi Shrine to pick the girl up."

"Pick her up?" Sesshoumaru repeated with a raised brow and skepticism in his voice.

"Yes, pick her up," Toga reiterated with a stern tone. "Her name is Higurashi Kagome, and you will be picking her up from her shrine each morning and escorting her to the Academy and from it each afternoon. The Shikon no Tama she carries places a very large target on her back...some of our own may not be able to resist its call. Worse yet, humans may be influenced by it."

"You make it sound as though humans would be a larger threat to her," Sesshoumaru spoke, brow furrowing lightly. How could that be? Demons were more powerful by far, and more influenced by it than any human.

"They are," Toga chuckled, a strange darkness to his tone. "She has been trained to use her powers to fight demons...but ordinary humans are unaffected by it. At the very least, against a demon, she can cast a powerful barrier that cannot be penetrated by youki. But against a human...her reiki attacks will do nothing. Her barriers won't keep them out. Little Kagome fights well from afar, but she lacks the proper strength to fend off a strong enough human. And the little dear is pure. She would never harm someone if she didn't have to, human or demon. And this is another reason why she needs you as her protector. You can see the threats she will be blind to."

"Hn...," Sesshoumaru hummed, absorbing this bit of information. It was an angle he hadn't yet considered...but, ever the war general he was, Toga was on his toes and had already considered all of the different angles, it seemed. And something else Sesshoumaru realized...was that his father had already met the girl. Hmph. This felt like some sort of set up now... Troublesome... "Dually noted. I will take care with this one."

"Do," Toga inclined his head. "And Sesshoumaru?" The younger Daiyoukai hummed in acknowledgement. "Buy the girl a welcoming gift. This is her first day of school, ever. She hasn't been allowed off the shrine grounds with only a handful of exceptions where she met with the human council or the Lords. She deserves a little something..."

"It sounds like a courting gift, mate," Inukimi sneered. "Are you thinking of courting another human in secret? Through our son, no less."

"No, Kimi," Toga sighed, but Sesshoumaru caught the hint of displeasure that flashed across his face before he turned to his mate. "We've spoken of this many a times. If I wish to take on another mate or concubine, we will speak. It will not be a hidden affair." Sesshoumaru caught Inuyasha's anxious shifting...and actually felt a miniscule hint of pity for the hanyou. He had been caught up in many arguments over the years, thanks to their father's affair with a human princess in secret. Inuyasha'd had no choice in the matter, who his parents were and what they'd done...but he always wound up on the wrong side of Inukimi's arguments. And for that, Sesshoumaru pitied him. Inukimi could be ruthless...

"Headin' to college," Inuyasha bid as he grabbed his own backpack and hightailed it out of the room before any backlash could be had. Sesshoumaru didn't blame him...not with the way Inukimi seemed to be wanting to poke at someone this morning...

"I will get her a gift. Excuse me," Sesshoumaru excused himself from the table as Toga and Inukimi got into yet another argument. Of course...Sesshoumaru also had to wonder if she didn't start these arguments just to end them in bed. Or on the table, in this case. She was quite the manipulative bitch... Clicking a button on his watch, his hair turned to ebony, his demonic features were hidden, and his eyes darkened to a honeyed chestnut hue. His human guise. With that and his bag, he set off into town in search of a gift on his way to the miko's shrine.

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"Hmm...," Sesshoumaru's chest rumbled as he growled softly. Nothing seemed appropriate, and he was quickly nearing the shrine. And...he didn't know anything about this priestess, what she might like, or even what she may be allergic to. Humans were so fragile... Taking another glance around, he spotted a small flower shop around the bend. Females liked flowers, didn't they? Taking another glance around, then down at his watch, he decided. It would have to do- class would be starting fairly soon. He strode across the road and into the shop like a male on a mission, and took a look at all of the many flowers crammed into the small shop...his nose was nearly overpowered by the numerous floral scents within. It was better than smog, but still strong enough to give him a headache...

"May I help you?" A scrawny human female behind the counter asked, her voice soft and almost hesitant. Sesshoumaru blinked back at her, and then scanned the blossoms, finding a flower that produced a softer scent than the others. And sweet, like honey.

"I would like a small bouquet of these...in red and white," Sesshoumaru pointed at the sweet smelling flower. Red and white would do, they were symbolic of the red and white miko garb. The girl paused, eyes wide, before she snapped into motion, making a nicely wrapped bouquet of fresh white and red flowers.

"That will be two thousand, one hundred and sixty-nine yen, sir," she rang up his order, and he reached into a pocket in his pack to procure the money. ($20 USD) He exchanged the yen for the flowers. "You're going to make someone very happy today." Sesshoumaru glanced back up at the cashier, a warm smile on her face with a blush dusting her cheeks. She smelled oddly...content.

"Hmm," he nodded his thanks, mildly confused. Was there some sort of human custom revolving around flowers he was unaware of? Or...did she simply assume he was taking them to a significant other? The latter seemed more plausible... Either way, Sesshoumaru shook it off, deposited his change and receipt into his bag, and headed back on track with the flowers in hand.

However...the closer he got, the more on-edge he felt. The hairs on the back of his neck were standing on end, and his aching fangs nearly broke through his guise. The sheer amount of reiki he felt from this one area...it was impressive, to say the least. Was it truly necessary to display their power so? Surely the threats they encountered were not that bad...or were they? A bad feeling settled into the pit of his gut as he finally reached the bottom stair of the shrine. Well...things wouldn't be monotonous anymore. Of that one and only thing he was certain.

"I come in peace," he uttered before taking a step up the stair, a reassurance to the reiki as he forcibly stood down and let it wash over him. Electricity cracked in the air and over his skin, not truly painful...but warning. The pressure it put upon him, though, made his teeth grind together and he struggled to breathe for a brief moment. His youki was raging inside of him...eyes beginning to glow red. It had been so very long since a power had challenged him so...and he itched for a good fight... But he closed his crimson-lined, more gold than brown, eyes and took a few steadying breaths instead of allowing it to take over. Tamping his youki down firmly, and taking a deeper breath, he opened his honeyed brown orbs once more. "My name is Taisho Sesshoumaru, son of Taisho Toga. I am here to escort the Shikon Miko to school." All at once, the reiki seemed to stop its passive aggressive assault. The weight remained, but he could deal with that. It didn't taunt his youki...and vaguely reminded him of a time he trained with his father when he was young. Toga had strapped boulders to his back and expected him to climb mountains by foot. This felt similar. Especially when he resumed his assent in a slow, steady gait. He didn't bow or bend as he had at that age, he bore it all while standing ramrod straight.

But it still wore on him. And he felt some relief in nearing the landing, struggling against his desire to just jump the remaining distance, reiki be damned. He didn't...but he wanted to. As he was able to finally see above the stairwell, the traditional red arch looming overhead, a young female came into view. Stunning blazing blue eyes greeted him, ebony hair dancing in the breeze. She wore a crimson pleated miniskirt, white knee-high socks, a pair of casual loafers that smelled of new leather, and a white button-up shirt that peeked out from beneath a familiar matching red blazer with an insignia on the left side. Ah. So it was her. Higurashi Kagome. It seemed almost scandalous to see a miko in a miniskirt, but his attention wasn't fully focused on that detail and the lean, muscular legs he could see between the skirt and her socks. It was focused on the nocked bow in her hands, the arrow aimed at him.

"Is this how you treat all of your guests?" Sesshoumaru couldn't help but ask, a thin eyebrow lifting with his question.

"I didn't invite you in, therefore you are not my guest," she came back at him with a surprising amount of fire. Her hand pulled the string of the bow back so far he could hear it creaking in her hold, reiki beginning to ebb and swirl around her lithe form in fuchsia and cobalt tendrils. And what power... She revealed only a small amount, but it was obvious she was holding back quite a deal more. It was almost...exciting... The feeling was almost foreign to him now... But, the only other beings, besides himself, that had such power nowadays, were the Lords. It certainly had his youki stirring in its cage within, his fingers twitching and fangs tingling as it threatened to break through his guise.

"The reiki allowed this one passage in," Sesshoumaru held out his right hand, the reiki sparking in warning across his palm. It raised the little hairs all along his arm, but did no damage to him. The female's brow furrowed as her hold eased on the bow, reiki dispersing. "You are Higurashi Kagome, correct?"

"...If I am..?...," she answered slowly, cautiously. Good. She needed to be wary. Perhaps this wouldn't be as troublesome as he first thought...

"Taisho Toga, my father, asked me to escort you to and from college each day," he answered, drawing some amusement from the shocked expression that crossed her pretty face. "This Sesshoumaru is to protect you while you are away from your defensible home." Her mouth opened and shut a few times, until it finally clicked shut and her bow and arrow was lowered to point at the ground, the arrow slack within it.

"But I thought...Toga would...," Kagome started, her tone broken and sounding oddly disappointed. "You don't look much like him...how do I know you're telling the truth?" Her hands tensed on the bow again, raising it a bit from its resting place.

"My father is Lord, and thus too busy to accompany you and be near you all day," Sesshoumaru explained simply, reaching over to click the button on his watch. The familiar tingling sensation swept over him as the magic that concealed his true humanoid form fell away. Blue eyes widened and a gasp fell from the miko's lips as she openly ogled him. If it was this easy to shock her...then perhaps he would make a game of it. How many times could he shock the miko in one day? Only one way to find out...

"O-Oh...," she stammered, still staring at him as her fingers laxed on her weapon again. "Okay...I can see the resemblance now..." Sesshoumaru inclined his head...and then moved to stand before her. It wasn't very fast by his standards, but he'd made the distance in the blink of her azure eyes. "Aii!" Kagome stumbled backwards, right into the side of the shrine, weapons slipped from her hands to the ground. Her heart was racing, cheeks flushed, and eyes wide. A smirk began to pull at Sesshoumaru's lips even as the reiki cracked against his flesh, mildly shocking him. This would be a fun game, indeed.

"Did I frighten you?" He asked, mirth dancing in his golden orbs. She seemed to understand that he was teasing her, a scowl twisting her lips as her heart slowed...but the blush remained.

"You just surprised me, that's all!" The miko huffed, lightly slapping his unoccupied arm. "Jerk!" Hm. She didn't fear or kowtow to him as others did. Just the opposite, she treated him like someone of her own kind. There was anger in her stormy orbs...but no hatred. Curious...

"I reiterate. Is that any way to treat a guest? One that brought you a gift, no less," Sesshoumaru spoke, shifting the flowers in his arm to his hand, offering them to the now-stunned miko.

"Those...those are for me?" She asked softly, blinking up at him with wide, innocent orbs. Had she never received flowers from a male before?

"Mmm," Sesshoumaru hummed and nodded, offering the blossoms up for her to take. Kagome looked between him and the flowers once more before she slowly, gently, removed them from his hand.

"They're beautiful!" She gushed, a smile finally settling across her face, lighting her features and bringing a sparkle to her eyes. Such a small thing...brought her much joy. Sesshoumaru had never seen anyone quite as elated as she over something so small and trivial. How puzzling... Wild ebony locks framed her fair face as her eyes slid shut and she leaned forwards to bury her small, dull human nose in the blossoms. "Mmm...are these...?" Her eyes fluttered open as she really took a good look at the blooms. "Carnations." She appeared to be stunned...but now Sesshoumaru was confused. More so as she looked up at him with wide orbs, a heavy blush settling across her cheeks. "Does this, ah...mean something?"

"They are red and white flowers, symbolic of your garb," He pointed out simply.

"Hmm? Oh...," Kagome nodded, still appearing...unsure. "Okay...you didn't mean anything by picking carnations, then?"

"They are a welcoming gift, courtesy of the Taisho family," Sesshoumaru further explained, holding back his urge to sigh. "Do these...carnations hold some special meaning?"

"Er...," she hesitated. Had her cheeks just darkened a shade? "I know you didn't intend them as this, and I really appreciate the gift, the flowers truly are beautiful...but...it's sort of like...a confession..."

"A confession?" Sesshoumaru's head tilted to the side.

"Of...ahem...love," Kagome fidgeted, unable to look at him. Sesshoumaru was just a little irked. How could flowers mean such a thing? "Those colors in particular, that is."

"Is there some secret language of flowers among mortals?" He asked, causing a laugh to bubble up and out of her mouth even as she tried to restrict it with her hand. What was so amusing about this? He just...didn't understand it at all...

"Not exactly," Kagome giggled as she wiped at her watering eyes. "The language of flowers is translated all throughout time by all species. Some are silent professions of love, others mean good luck, and some can even mean goodbye. It all depends on the situation and flower presented."

"...Can the carnations mean other things, then?"

"Red carnations stand for deep love and admiration, while white stands for pure love and good luck," she recited like she had read it a hundred times already and memorized the text. "Overall, though, they mean love, fascination, and distinction." Sesshoumaru grunted. Not very much for him to choose from...

"Let them be a tiding of good luck for the distinguished Shikon Miko, then," he answered, rousing another earnest smile from the strange female.

"I can live with that," she grinned up at him cheerily. Truly, she was a simple, fascinating creature...

"Kagome!" An elderly female voice called, and the younger female turned towards the shrine house. "Where are ye, child?"

"Kaede-obaasan! Come see what the Taishos brought!" Kagome called back before turning back to Sesshoumaru and lowering her voice. Kaede...where had he heard that name before..? "Kaede-obaasan taught me all about herbs and flowers! She was also the sister of the last Shikon Miko." Ah. There was the connection.

"Toga? Is that ye?" Kaede called as he listened to her amble to the door before sliding it open with a click of the lock and a twist of the handle. She was a far cry from the child he remembered, her pale skin wrinkled and covered in scars...her back hunched as she made her way towards them with an unamused brown orb. Her right eye was covered by an old fashioned eye patch. "Hmph. Old dog."

"Little imp," Sesshoumaru inclined his head to her for formality's sake. It still unnerved him how quickly humans aged in the span of a short fifty years. Kaede cracked a smile as she looked up at him.

"Surprised to see how old I look?" Had he shown his unease? Sesshoumaru tightened his hold on his stoic facade.

"...I did not expect you to look so..."

"Old," she finished with a wise, knowing smile.

"Yes," he admitted softly. "I forget how quickly humans age..."

"You know each other?" Kagome popped back into the conversation, looking between the two as they both faced her.

"Aye," Kaede nodded. "He is Inuyasha's elder half-brother, heir to the Lordship of the West. Old mutt hasn't aged a day since I last saw him as a child."

"You haven't?" Kagome looked up at him in awe with those innocent eyes of hers.

"No...demons age very slowly." Didn't she know this already?

"Woah...it's one thing to read about it, but another entirely to experience it!" She was so excited...strange little female. "How old are you, if you don't mind my asking?" The question caught him off guard...just as much as his answer. Had so much time passed already?

"...Nearly a millennia," he spoke, watching her eyes nearly pop from their sockets.

"Old mutt," Kaede teased, her single eye warm.

"Indeed," Sesshoumaru agreed. Old, indeed...he was beginning to feel his age now. The years, as they crept upon him and added to the burden he bore. Kagome began spouting a hundred questions at once, to which Sesshoumaru's brow raised. Thankfully, the old brat intervened.

"Do ye not have college this morning?" Kaede broke in, Kagome stammering to a halt.

"Crap!" She cried, looking around. "Can you put these in a vase for me please, obaasan?" She handed the flowers off to the elderly woman.

"Yes...," Kaede took the flowers gently as Kagome ran back inside and exited a moment later with a pink backpack.

"Ready! Let's go, Sesshoumaru-sama!" Kagome smiled up at him, taking him by the crook of his arm and turning him around. He clicked his watch, reinstating his guise as he peered back at the elderly woman behind them.

"Good luck child, mutt," Kaede waved as Kagome all but dragged Sesshoumaru down the shrine steps. "Kagome is the polar opposite of me sister...good luck to ye, milord." She chuckled as she caught a loud half-hum, half-growl as Kagome moved him onwards. Kaede turned her old eye back to the flowers in hand. "Carnations? What a strange choice, milord.....is this, perhaps, a premonition of things to come? Hmm..." She turned her orb to the clouds overhead. "Kikyo...I hope ye can find peace and joy in this new life...after everything...ye deserve it most."

-End Chapter 1 -

#sesskagweek2019day1 #skw19d1 #woo #i did it #take that writers block #lets do this

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lumosinlove · 5 years

Text

Solntse

part vii

“He…wait. Say again?”

Remus sighed, “He invited me to…” He looks down at the text Sirius had sent him with flight details, “Turks and Caicos? It’s an island, I think. He’s there for his company’s retreat. And he wants me to come.”

“Mate.” James let out a laugh, “Yes.” Remus shoots him a look, “What, you said you guys spent the night together. I thought he said sorry.”

“I…Well, yeah, we did, he did, but. But…” Remus rubbed a hand over his face, really not wanting to tell James the whole story.

“But?”

Remus looked towards the counter of the coffee shop, shifting a little at remembering the look on Sirius’ face, “He thought you were one of my clients.”

James chokes on his coffee, coughing for a moment and waving a hand at Remus, “You—“ He coughs again, then clears his throat so loud the girl next to them reading shoots him a glance, “That’s why he stormed out?”

Remus nodded, “Some guys don’t like acknowledging that they’re not the only ones I do this with. You don’t think it’ll…I don’t know. Being in a hotel for the night is one thing. What the fuck is it going to do to me when I’m with him, sleeping with him, for two weeks straight? That…” Remus sighed. It’d be really fucking hard, is what he should say. It’d be really fucking nice is what his body is screaming. He would make money, he would be with Sirius in…in whatever way Sirius wanted.

Remus expected James to tell him to spare him the details then. He expected James to wave him off.

What he did not expect was for James to reach across the table and flick him in the cheek like they were still in fifth grade.

“I—Hey—“

“You’re such a fucking idiot. You are such a fucking idiot, oh my god.”

Remus does his best to wrap his tea bag around the already slightly soggy wooden stirrer in an attempt to squeeze the excess water. It wobbles on the stick as he tries to get it safely to the napkin he’s laid out, “Okay, thanks, why?”

“He’s jealous. Sirius was jealous of me.”

Remus looks up. The teabag falls on the table with a wet little squish. “Shut up.”

James digs his fingers into his hair and rests his elbows on the table a little to hard, nearly dislodging his drink, “Remus. Jesus fucking Christ.”

“I—“ Remus’ chest feels entirely too tight, “Why? I mean.” Remus flicks James back, just to get him to stop looking at him like that, “He’s nice to everything.”

“What does that even mean? Remus, I’m a perfectly nice person—sometimes—and I still am capable of loving Lily.”

Remus shakes his head, “Yeah, no, but you act differently with Lily. I can tell you love her. Sirius—Sirius would give the bellboy the food he just brought up for himself if the bloke said he was hungry, I mean…No. I don’t think so.” Remus shakes his head again, “James, I’ve seen guys run away with they see me. I’ve never seen anyone run away because they like me.”

James looks at him from across the table, but his usual sad expression—the one Remus is used to being directed towards him—looks a little different. It’s not all together sad. “Sirius has been the first enough times since you met him already. Hasn’t he?” He leans back in his chair, spreading his hands, “Why can’t he be the first for this?”

Sirius insists on picking him up for the drive to the airport, is the problem.

“Can’t I just meet you there?” Remus worries the t-shirt he’s rolling into his small duffle bag, phone sandwiched between his ear and shoulder. He stares down at the bed. He barely has two pairs of nice shorts, let alone a swimsuit. He knows he wouldn’t even have to get the words fully out before Sirius would buy him one—maybe five, given his history—but…that’s hard.

“Easier, Remus. Special plane. Why not like?” Sirius is rummaging around on his end of the phone too. He isn’t even in London right now, but his apartment in New York. Remus would kill to see where Sirius lives. He wants to see how he designed his own house, wants to see all the little things that make it his own. All the things a hotel room can’t offer.

“I…” Remus drops the shirt into the bag. He doesn’t know why he’s rolling them. There aren’t really enough to fit snuggly and it will all just fall apart. “I don’t know. I don’t…” He takes a deep breath, “I don’t live…in a nice place. It’s embarrassing.”

The rustling on the other end of the line pauses, and there are a few painful beats of silence before all of it’s washed out of Remus’ mind with a single word.

“Remushya.” Sirius lets out a breath, “You can trust me. Never need feel embarrass. We…we meet at same Starbucks? Is okay?”

Remus lets out a breath and nods into the phone, “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

“Will be fun. Promise, really…really want you be happy, okay? We swim, eat, drink, see nice sunset. Be warm. So cold here.”

Remus lets out a little laugh, glancing at his window, “Right.”

“Is okay?”

Remus can’t help but smile a little at the eagerness in Sirius’ voice. Even if James’ words are playing in his head. Even if why did you invite me? are playing in his head. “Yeah, of course. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Five o’clock.”

“Okay.”

“Bye, Remushya.”

Remus holds the phone with both hands, “Bye.”

He sighs and flips the phone onto the bed before falling down after it on his stomach. His bag is digging into his ribs but he can’t bring himself to care. He calls James.

“Pri-vet.”

Remus pulls the phone away from his ear, blinks at it, then replaces it, “What the—did you learn that so you could fucking answer the phone?”

“Absolutely. And it had the exact desired effect.”

“James.”

James sighed, “Okay, yes, I’m listening.”

“I shouldn’t go.”

“Oh, so you don’t want him to declare his love?”

“James.”

“You don’t want to fuck him on your private beach?”

“James!”

“No, Remus, listen to me. Listen. Do you love him? You’ve never actually said it. Do you love Sirius?”

Remus licked over his dry lips, pressing his forehead to the mattress. He didn’t even have to think about it. The words were right there on the tip of his tongue. And what first came to mind wasn’t the ridiculous five pairs of swim trunks Sirius would no doubt buy him. It wasn’t the insanely expensive rooms they stayed in. It was the way he took stray curls of Remus’ hair between his fingertips. And the warm palm against the top of his spine. Pulling his sweatshirt over Remus’ head in the morning. And as the little things filled Remus’ chest rather than the big, for the first time, he felt okay about his answer.

“Yes.” Remus whispered into the phone, then louder, “Yes. It hurts sometimes.”

“Remus. There you go. Yeah, it does hurt sometimes. Lily’s so fucking beautiful, so funny, I mean what the hell am I suppose to do with all that, you know?”

“How could he want me, James?” And, there it was, really. The most base truth of it all. His voice shook through the words, but he finally said them.

James’ laugh was soft and sad through the speakers, “Re…” Remus could picture his exact face, the hand running through his hair, “Re, you’re always going on about people pitying you, but…Fuck, Re. Sometimes it’s just you pitying yourself. You know? I…”

Remus blinked against the burn in his eyes, but nodded into the mattress, “I…I don’t know why. My mum and dad, I…I mean they didn’t want—“ The words choked off, “So, why would Sirius—”

“You deserve to be happy, Re.” James’ own voice sounded a little thick, “God, fuck your parents for making you think otherwise, fuck them. It’s got nothing to do with wealth of any kind, any sort of difference, it’s just…it’s how it is. It’s two people loving each other. You deserve to be with someone you love.”

Remus squeezes his eyes shut once and watches a dark spot appear on the sheets below him. He sniffles thickly and lets out a breath, “Yeah.”

James’ laugh is watery this time, “Yeah? You finally trying to believe me?”

Remus laughs too, but more tears come out, “Yeah.”

“Go with him, Re. Really, I…I think it’s all going to be fine. More than fine.”

“Yeah?” It seems to be all Remus can choke out right now. He loves James so much.

“Yeah, Re.”

Sirius has to touch Remus’ shoulder, making him jump away from staring at his phone before Remus sees him. He turns fast and—and grins, widely, in a way that probably completely throws Sirius for a loop after the way they left things.

Sirius blinks at him, a smile of his own growing just because of Remus’, “Hey.”

“Hey, Sirius.” I love you. When he realizes what his face is doing, it automatically turns sheepish. He pushes his hands into his pockets, “Hi. Thanks for—meeting here.” I love you so much.

Sirius nods, eyeing Remus like—like he knows something, one corner of his mouth higher than the other. “Of course.” He leans down and scoops up Remus’ bag before Remus can do anything. He frowns, shaking it a little and feeling how light it is, “Remus, we go for two week.”

“I—“ Remus flushes, “I don’t really…have much that works.”

Sirius’ cheeks color a little, like he’s realizing what he said. He shoulders the bag and offers Remus a quiet smile, “No worries, we find.”

Remus ducks into the cold wind as they cross the short distance to the car, resisting the urge to hook his fingers around the little button at the back of Sirius’ coat that…doesn’t seem to have a purpose. The car is already warm and, frankly, huge. There are wide leather seats facing each other in pairs, an ice bucket and glasses. There’s a thick divider between the driver and them, one that Sirius knocks on twice to get them moving before settling into the seat beside Remus.

They look at each other in the dim back seat, and the words are right there.

“I’m glad you say you come with me.”

Remus fiddles with the smooth leather of the arm rest between them, “Me too. I…I haven’t had a vacation in…” Remus snorts a little, “Well, ever.”

Sirius’ eyes widen a little, “Remus.” Then a smile is breaking over his face, “Remus, I’m make best. We have best time, okay? I’m have company breakfast maybe few time but no more. Do nothing but eat and sit in sun.”

Remus licks his lips and keeps his eyes on the arm rest, “And…”

Sirius stills a little. He’s silent for a moment. Then there’s soft fingers pressing Remus’ chin up to meet his eyes, “Only if want. You tell me everything, okay? No cry, make me worry I’m do bad thing.”

Remus wraps his fingers around Sirius’ wrist, thumb dragging over his pulse point, “No, Sirius—I—I do want it. I…Things were hard last time.” Sirius makes a little noise, maybe another apology, but Remus doesn’t let him speak, “But I know what I want now.”

Sirius’ eyes flick down to his mouth and back, “Yes?”

Remus lets out a breath, tightens his hand around Sirius’, “Sirius—“

The divider lowers just a little, making them both jump, “Sir, here we are. Can I get your bags for you?”

Remus wants to die. Just a little.

It takes a long moment for Sirius to answer, “Yes. Thank you. I get bags.” And then he’s out of the car and holds his hand out for Remus. He gives it a squeeze before he lets go to retrieve their bags from the trunk.

Remus freezes when he steps onto the plane. He really just wants to laugh, maybe cry a bit, because how can he tell Sirius anything now without him thinking at least a little it’s because of all this?

“Where’s, like, the rest of your company?”

Sirius looks up from where he was tapping away on his phone, “What? Who knows. My plane.”

Remus blinks at him. He should have guessed, but…

“So, it’s just us?”

Sirius’ eyebrow raises a little, along with the corner of his mouth, “Just us.”

Remus is in the process of nodding when there are two hands lightly on his shoulders.

“Hello, Mr. Lupin, may I take your coat for the journey?”

Remus turns and there’s an air hostess behind him with a gentle smile.

“Oh. Uh, yeah. I mean, thanks, sure.”

She disappears somewhere in the very back of the plane.

“Sirius, how big is this thing?”

Sirius sets his phone down and grins, “Just right, no? Hey, sit, get comfy. Vacation start now, Remus.”

Remus bites his lip against his smile and takes the open window seat across from Sirius. They look at each other as the engine begins to rumble beneath them, the walls humming with energy.

Sirius stretches out his long legs and crosses them between Remus’ spread ones. He laces his fingers over his stomach and tilts his head to the side, “You know mile-high club?”

Remus’ eyes widen and he splutters, quickly glancing around, “Sirius.”

Sirius cracks up.

Remus kicks at his feet, “You can’t just say that. I don’t want every person working here knowing we…we…”

“Might fuck on plane?”

Remus covers his face with his hands and slouches down in his seat. Sirius’ laughter gets louder. Remus loves him.

“Can I get you and your guest anything to drink, Mr. Black?” The air hostess is back, and she’s holding warm towels.

Remus takes one and tries not to groan at how warm it is on his cold hands. Sirius gets them both some water and starts to try to ask for some type of food but can’t seem to remember the name.

“Ah, you know. Tiny.” The woman nods but doesn’t look any more clear as to what Sirius is trying to say.

Sirius sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Ah. Okay.” He looks at Remus silently for a second, then Remus watches as his eyes slide slowly downward, then back up. He looks down again, right at Remus’ crotch, and raises his eyebrows pointedly, “Is small name, Remus. Can’t remember but know is small name.”

Remus has to physically bite his cheek—hard—to keep from bursting out laughing. He opens his mouth and smiles at the woman, “Mr. Black would like some nuts.”

The air hostess, seemingly having missed the entire exchange, just smiled, “Oh, yes, of course.”

When they’re alone again Remus kicks Sirius in the shin, “You’re ridiculous.”

Sirius’ grin is lazy, his jaw sharp as he tilts his head back against the seat and looks at Remus with dark eyes, “Ridiculous.”

Remus bites his lip against his smile and looks out the window, desperately trying to ignore all those soft vowels in there.

“We wait till in sky, hm?” The toe of Sirius’ sneaker nudges at Remus’ calve.

“Hm.” Remus hums back, pointedly keeping his gaze fixed out the window, and Sirius laughs again.

Dinner was steak frites and ice cream sundaes. Remus loves this plane. He loves the little smear of chocolate sauce on the corner of Sirius’ mouth. He loves Sirius.

They moved to a longer booth-like section of the plane to eat and sat pressed together from side to thigh to knee. Sirius’ arm is thrown lazily across the booth behind Remus’ shoulders, and his fingers occasionally brushed beneath the neck of his sweater.

“Still hungry, or okay?” Sirius reaches for the bottle of wine he had ordered and pours himself a bit more, “Want some?” Sirius’ thumb brushes his skin and he smiled, “Or wait for beach cocktail? Have to have one, Remus, so good. Sweet. You like.”

Remus steals a fry from Sirius’ plate, having eaten all his own, “I’ll try a sip of yours.”

Sirius hums, wrist curling so his fingers can reach Remus’ jaw, “Sound good. I’m share everything with you.”

Remus sighs, nodding, “I know you will.”

Sirius’ smile softens and he pulls Remus a little closer, “Okay? Big sigh.”

Remus fiddles with his napkin, “How much work will you have to do?”

Sirius sighs this time, “Yes. Good thing to sigh about. Phone call here and there. Might sketch a little, but that fun. One or two breakfast with company.” Seeing Remus’ face, he laughs, “You not need to come.”

“I—I would if you wanted me to.” Remus scrunches his nose, “If you really wanted me to.”

Sirius rolls his eyes, “Not make you come to early breakfast.” Then he leans in, “Would rather come back to you still in bed.”

Remus’ entire body flames hot at that image. Sirius tugging off whatever button down he was forced to wear, but not before Remus could appreciate how it stuck to his skin at the small of his back. His clothes would follow, his shoes, until he was nothing but smooth, tanned skin and familiar shapes. Remus blinks at Sirius, realizing he hadn’t answered yet. He smiles down at his food and nods.

Sirius’ thumb strokes against his neck, “Tired? Sorry get late flight. Meetings all day. Want finish work before go away. I…”

Sirius hesitates for so long that Remus looks up.

Sirius wets his bottom lip nervously, “Happy come, Remus?”

Remus is a little surprised at the unsureness in Sirius’ voice, although he knows he shouldn’t be. He’d left Sirius cold after the last time they’d seen each other. But Sirius had kissed him goodbye anyway. Remus had chalked that up to his kind nature.

“Are you happy you invited me?” Remus asks, “I’m happy to do anything for you.” It’s a little bit of a scary truth.

Sirius sends him a pleading look, “Remus, not want you to do things for me only. Not—Can’t be only reason. I’m tell you this before.”

Remus shifts towards him so his knee is pulled to his chest and he can press his palm to Sirius’ chest, “I’m not saying it like that. I just—I just mean I’m—happy. To be here.” He laughs a little, rolling his eyes at himself, “So, yeah, I’m glad I came.”

Sirius’ expression shifts to one of extreme caution and he glances down at his chest, his heart, Remus’ hand covering it. “Just glad?” He asks slowly.

Remus looks at him hard for a few moments, silently cursing the language barrier. He thought he could decode Sirius fairly well by now, but right in this moment, he could mean anything. “I…yes? I’m happy, if that’s what you—I mean, I’m having a great time. I…I love being with you.” Sirius’ expression goes a little blank and Remus scrambles to keep up, “I—I’m sorry.” He’s not even sure what he’s apologizing for. He presses his palm firmer against Sirius’ chest until he can feel his heart beating beneath it. Sirius’ chest moves steadily. The pulse speeds up when he inhales and slows way down when he lets out his breath. Remus is concentrating on that decreasing beat when Sirius’ mouth captures his own, warm and dry from the plane air.

“Never be sorry.” He runs his lips over Remus’ cheek, kissing his jaw, then back to his mouth, “Not sorry. Happy you here.” The arm on the back of the seating curls around his back, fitting them closer together. Sirius’ fingers press under his shirt and he rests his lips against Remus’ temple. And he just holds him there. Remus wonders of Sirius can feel his heart this time, practically beating out of his chest because this feels like a good time to say something. Sirius obviously wants him to say something, had said the awful night he last left the hotel room that he needed Remus to tell him. And if Remus could just…

“Sirius.” Remus says into his neck. He pushes his nose against the warm skin. He closes his eyes because if this goes wrong he can’t watch it happen. “Sirius.”

“I’m want, Remus.”

Relief floods through Remus at the exact moment that disappointment does. This is familiar territory for them, the trickling longing that was currently pooling in Remus’ stomach right alongside—everything else. The love, dread, fear, elation. Whatever it should be called. Love definitely wasn’t just happiness, Remus was sure of that much so far. Love definitely wasn’t just love. Love was just a name for a certain combination of everything else.

“Yeah.” Remus says. “Yes.”

Sirius lets out a long breath and slides Remus into his lap. It’s a tight fit with the table there, but Remus presses close to him, “Won’t someone see us? We should…”

“They be polite. Leave.” Sirius says the words right into his mouth then drags his teeth over Remus’ bottom lip, “карамель, how I’m make you want me?”

Remus leans into the half-kiss and drags his thumb over Sirius’ lip. Sirius looks at him with heavy, dark eyes, and Remus can’t help put press his finger in a little, feeling the sharp teeth that were on his skin a moment ago. “How can you think I don’t want you?”

Sirius’ tongue darts out to wet the pad of Remus’ thumb. His hands sit heavily on Remus’ hips, fingers just dipping down around his ass, only partly hidden by the table. He tilts his head forward, making a sad sounding noise in his throat, and kisses Remus.

Remus feels a little like he did have those glasses of wine Sirius offered. He’s confused, and the mind-melting kisses aren’t helping. He pulls back and puts a finger to Sirius’ mouth when it tries to chase his. He watches Sirius watch him as he presses down on his lip a little before leaning down and pressing a gentle kiss to Sirius’ neck. Sirius lets out another long breath and sags back into the couch. “карамель,” he says again, then, “I’m want.”

Remus cups the back of Sirius’ head, fingers threading in his hair, and bites gently over the tendon of Sirius’ neck, kissing until a bruise starts to form. Sirius has let his head fall all the way back, resting against the thrumming plane wall, and is holding onto Remus like its for life. Remus pushes his hips forward, feeling how Sirius is hard in his pants and relishing in it. This is familiar. He made Sirius like this.

“I know.” He says, and kisses Sirius’ mouth softly. He thinks he does, at least.

Sirius breaks off into Russian then, and it all sounds so unbearably sweet that Remus has to switch back to kissing his neck just to hide how much it effects him. It creates a little well of hurt right in his chest.

Sirius is the one to almost get a hand between them when Remus stops him. He swears he can feel every person here listening to them. Sirius groans, half laughs really, and drops his head back on the couch again.

“I know, I know you said it was fine—“

Sirius raises an eyebrow at him, smile soft when he says, “Is fine. I’m do it before, Remus.”

And that—that stop Remus in his tracks cold. He tries desperately to school his expression and loops his hands around Sirius’ neck instead, “I—I know. I just, we’re the only ones here.”

“Nervous.” Sirius runs his hands up and down Remus’ back soothingly, “Is okay, Remushya. Most okay.” Sirius leans forward and presses a kiss to the corner of Remus’ mouth.

And suddenly he’s thinking about the first time he met Sirius, how nervous he said he was. But now he’s here, on a plane that’s apparently known to be fucked on. If that’s even what Sirius meant. He doesn’t want to ask, really doesn’t want to even take himself down that road. He doesn’t want to suddenly think Sirius was lying to him just because of one small comment.

He leans forward and kisses Sirius when he really meant to ask if he was just one boy in a long line. He doesn’t think so, he really doesn’t think so, but the seed is planted now, there in his mind.

Sirius settles back in the seat and pulls Remus close to him, seemingly content just to lay there together.

Remus looks up at what profile he can see of Sirius’ face from where his head rests on his shoulder. He tests the waters one more time. “I want to be here. With you.”

Remus watches Sirius smile before he looks down at him. His eyes have little bits of a brown that are almost yellow among the grey. Remus doesn’t know how he didn’t notice before. “I’m most happy.” Sirius says. He curls one arm closer around Remus’ back while the other gently takes a curl of Remus’ hair between his fingers, “I’m try tell you—that you make me most happy.”

Remus nods, smiles a little, and nods some more. He feels calmer. He thinks he can do this. Maybe with a cocktail or two. Maybe with just a kiss or two.

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etherealwaifgoddess · 5 years

Text

Two Of A Kind

Main Characters: Loki (Laufeyson) Odinson, Thor Odinson

Summary: Loki receives an unexpected and gift from his brother.

Warnings: None! Just sweet fluff :)

Word Count:3,276

Author’s Note: Hello lovelies! Two new fics in two days... ya’ll are getting spoiled again! So this little fic is for the amazing @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan ‘s writing challenge. Star is such an incredible writer, if ya’ll haven’t read her stuff I highly recommend checking her out. For her challenge, I snagged the prompt “Why did you do it?” for Loki.

Please note: this is very non-canon compliant! It’s set after the first Avengers movie but let’s just pretend Thor has Loki kept at the Avengers Tower under house arrest instead of taking him back to Asgard for punishment. Okay? Okay :)

XOXO - Ash

Two Of A Kind

Loki is not the most agreeable man on the best of days, and on the worst of days, well it’s better just to let him roam the halls in solitude. Thor had started to worry about Loki though, too many days spent in self imposed isolation and biting people’s heads off at every turn. Thor knows Loki doesn’t want to spend his “sentence” in the Avengers tower but he needs to be contained after the incident in New York and the tower is a safe place. Thor trusts his fellow Avengers with his life. Thor spends hours researching online how to bring comfort to people who were housebound and isolated. Most articles recommend a companion animal and Thor is coming around to the idea when Natasha comes home raving about a litter of kittens she found on a mission and dropped off at a local animal shelter.

Thor doesn’t think to ask Tony about bringing a pet into the Avengers tower until he’s halfway to the shelter and at that point he decides to risk it rather than go all the way back. The shelter looks almost like a regular pet store with various pens around the shop, each containing a different animal. All of the puppies in their bins jump up to greet him as he walks through to the desk and he has to resist the urge to pet them along the way. He is there on a mission.

“Hello, excuse me.” Thor says anxiously. He doesn’t want to interrupt but he’s been standing in front of the desk for a while and the girl hasn’t lifted her head once.

“Sorry, one minute.” the girl replies. She’s young, barely in her twenties with bright purple hair and a delicate silver hoop in her nose. She types furiously as she squints at the computer screen and ends whatever she was working on with a sharp, satisfied press of the enter button. “Okay, what can I help you with?” she asks looking up at Thor for the first time since he’d arrived.

Thor chuckles despite himself as her face falls and she begins stammering an apology, “It’s alright. You’re doing important work here.” he assures her, “I’m looking for a cat if you could help me. My friend Natasha brought in a litter of kittens earlier and I thought I might want one.”

“Sure, yeah, of course. They still need their shots and vet visit but you can see them at least. They’re still in the back.” the girl motions for Thor to follow her around back to the holding area. “They’ve been cleaned up but you still might not want to handle them until a vet clears them.”

“Aesir cannot contract any Midgardian ailments. I have no concerns over these little ones.” Thor opens the gate to the four small kittens inside the cage and begins petting them, seeing which ones are the most friendly. One little pure grey kitten in the back perks it’s head up but is pushed back by the others when it tries to approach. It lets out a pitiful mew and Thor scoops it up in his large palm to bring it out to him. The kitten looks up at him with wide green eyes and what Thor thinks must be appreciation. He gives its little head a few pets and to his surprise the kitten begins to lick at his palm eagerly. “Do cats usually do this? I thought licking was a dog trait?” he asks the girl.

The girl shakes her head, “No, it’s not common. She must like you.”

“I’ll take her.”

The girl blinks in disbelief at his decisiveness. “Well, we have a lot of forms to fill out and you have to be approved and then there’s the vet visit she still needs but that should be tomorrow afternoon. Can you bring the forms back later today or tomorrow and we’ll let you know once she’s seen by our vet?”

“I can fill them out now.” Thor offers and the girl nods, leading him back out front.

True to his word, Thor settles in to fill out the forms on a clipboard sitting crossed legged on the floor by a pen of jack russel puppies. He leaves the shelter with a lighter heart, knowing he has a plan in motion to help ease his brother’s suffering.

~~~~~~

It takes two days for the kittens to be cleared to leave the shelter and Thor was a nervous wreck waiting. He gave Tony a heads up since he’d had the time and all Tony did was shrug and warn Thor he wasn’t going to get stuck with litter box duty.

Thor arrives five minutes before the shelter opens the morning he can finally pick up the kitten and he’s bouncing lightly on his heels when an older woman opens the door at 9am. “You’re here for the little grey kitten?” she asks but it’s a rhetorical question.

Thor nods, “Yes, ma’am. And I was told I would be able to purchase some basic supplies as well?”

“Mmhmm.” the old woman mumbles as she takes out the forms for Thor to sign to release the kitten to him. “We have a litter box and some litter, a bag of dry food, a few cans of wet food, food and water dishes, and a collar all set aside for you. That should get you started for a few days.”

“I appreciate it.” Thor says genuinely.

“Just be sure to get more supplies within the next day or two and set up the next vet appointment for her last round of shots in four weeks.”

“I will, thank you.” Thor signs the last of the papers and hands them back to her.

The woman collects the kitten and the two large bags of supplies and brings everything out front for him. Thor takes the crate in his hand gingerly, trying not to upset the kitten inside, and loops the other two bags around one heavily muscled arm. “Thank you, again.”

“Take care.” the woman smiles at him kindly and opens the front door for him.

Thor heads back to the Avengers Tower walking much slower than he usually would. He doesn’t know much about kittens but he knows a little about babies and those you can definitely not jostle around too much. Every block he stops to check on the kitten and she just blinks at him hesitantly with her wide green eyes. He finds himself talking to her along the way, assuring her she’s going to have a lovely home and be well taken care of from now on. Thor hopes that Loki will feel the same level of protectiveness over her.

Back at the tower Thor sets the bags in his room, wanting to surprise Loki with his gift. “FRIDAY” he calls out to the ever present AI, “Can you please tell me where Loki is?”

“Loki is located in the common room.” FRIDAY announces.

“Thank you FRIDAY.”

Thor takes the kitten out of her travel crate and after giving her a few pets, tucks her into the large front pocket of his hooded sweatshirt. The kitten snuggles in and Thor heads out to find his brother.

Loki is draped artfully over the cream colored sofa in the common room, stretched out across two of the wide cushions with one leg dangling off the armrest. He’s reading a thick leather bound book in one hand and tossing an uneaten apple in the other.

“Hello brother.” he says before Thor can speak. He doesn’t look up from his book until he finishes the paragraph he’s reading and then he assess Thor with a curious expression. “What do need, Thor? Out with it.”

“I wanted to help bring you solace in your time here.” Thor explains hesitantly.

“Really, Thor? What could you possibly think will help this situation? You’re the one who imprisoned me in this god awful tower.”

Thor has the decency to look chagrined, “I got you a companion.”

“A companion?” Loki parrots with an eye roll.

“Yes, look.” Thor pulls the kitten out of his pocket and holds it towards Loki. The tiny kitten looks even smaller in the god’s large palm and her eyes are bright, emerald green against her rich grey fur.

Loki all but recoils, “A cat? Are you mad?” Loki backs away on the sofa. “Thor, why did you do it?”

“You seemed lonely, isolated. I thought a companion would bring you comfort.” Thor is beginning to question his decision and is about to say never mind and keep the poor kitten for himself.

“Fine then,” Loki huffs, “Give it here then.”

“You do not have to…”

“I said give it here, Thor.” Loki gets up off the sofa and plucks the kitten out of Thor’s hands. He lifts it up closer to his face to study it. “Is it a girl or boy?”

“A girl.”

“Hmm. Fine. Fine. Where are her things?”

“I’ll move them to your room now. Truly, brother, if you do not want her…”

“Let it be, Thor.” Loki rolls his eyes and stalks off with the kitten clutched against his chest.

Loki wanders the halls giving Thor time to move the kittens things into his room. By the time Loki makes his way back to his room at the far end of the tower there are two large bags sitting on his table. Loki is reluctant to put the kitten down but can’t set things up one handed. “Alright, little one.” he tells her, “Settle in here and I will get your things sorted out.” He sets the kitten down on his bed and she crawls up to lay down on his pillow. Loki smirks and doesn’t bother to shoo her off.

Loki skims over the care instructions provided in the bag and sets things up around his room. He’s pleased by how well he’s able to fit her things around his. Once done Loki stretches out across the bed to watch the kitten who’s currently watching him with her intelligent green eyes. “You need a name, little one.” he tells her. Loki rolls onto his back and pulls her onto his chest so he can watch her as she nuzzles at him. “Affectionate little thing, aren’t you? We’ll call you Elska then.” Loki gives her soft pets atop her head and croons her name, letting her get used to hearing it.

Elska lays down on Loki eventually and falls asleep right on his chest. He wants to move her but doesn’t have the heart to, so he scrolls through his phone instead, looking up all sorts of things to buy for her. He never would have gotten a pet on his own but now that he has her, he will do everything to give her the best life possible. All funded by Tony Stark’s Amazon account.

~~~~~

Several hours and almost a thousand dollars later, Loki hears a tentative knock on his door. Elksa has wandered off and Loki wraps up his latest purchase before going to the door. Thor is standing in the hall, hands tucked in his pockets, and he glances anxiously inside Loki’s room.

“Can I help you?” Loki asks, eyebrow raised.

“Just checking on how you two are getting along.” he admits.

Loki rolls his eyes at his brother. “We’re fine. You need not fear for her well being.”

“I didn’t mean to imply… I know you wouldn’t hurt her….” Thor sighs heavily, “Do you want me to order food and supplies for her? The woman at the shelter said it was only enough to get you started and you’ll have to get more.”

“I’ve already procured everything she’ll need. Tony really needs to update his Amazon password more often.”

“Good. Good. Well, if you need anything…”

“We’re fine. Goodbye Thor.” Loki’s tone is pointed and Thor knows he’s being dismissed. He nods and heads off down the hall hoping desperately that Loki comes around to the idea of having a pet.

Loki closes the door and scoops Elska up from where she’s nosing around in his shoes. “Silly Uncle Thor.” he tells her.

~~~~~~~~

The following day the Amazon truck pulls up to the Avengers Tower and begins unloading a mountain of boxes in the lobby. Everyone is milling around, confused and concerned when Loki strolls through to collect his things. “Thank you, I’ll be taking all of this up to my quarters.” he announces lifting up the first large box.

Tony sputters in annoyance, “You owe me, Rock of Ages!” he shouts at Loki’s back.

Loki ignores him and continues on his way to the elevator. After numerous trips Loki finally gets everything back to his room and the space is covered in cardboard boxes. It takes him twice as long to unpack everything as it did to get it up there and he’s ready for a break by the time he’s loading the cardboard out to the trash chute in the kitchen.

Loki looks around realizing there are more things for Elska than there are for him in his room now. “We might have overdone it, little one. You’re a spoiled girl.” he gives her a quick pat on top of her head and starts assembling her new cat tree. It’s more of a cat condo by the size of it and he very carefully rearranges his room so that it fits next to his desk. By dinner time he’s finished his unpacking and rearranging. He’s settled in for the evening, eating his meal with Elska who’s enjoying her grain free organic pate in a pink floral china dish opposite him at the table. He would never admit to it but he adores his new little darling. She’s inquisitive and feisty, having played fiercely with all of her new toys, and he loves when she sits on his chest and pads her little paws on him to make herself comfortable. Loki is slightly irked by the way she laps at his t-shirt leaving wet marks on it but he doesn’t have the heart to scold her.

Elska gives Loki something that he’s been sorely lacking in the past few months: a purpose. He wakes to Elska curled up with him basking in his warmth, gets up and shares breakfast with her, spends time throughout the day playing with her and teaching her simple tricks, he eats dinner with her, and then they curl up together at night while he reads before bed. The companionship makes his days significantly less painful and he’s actually smiling when Thor finds him in the kitchen a week later.

“Long time no see, brother.” Thor claps a hand on Loki’s back making the younger god jump, startled.

“Yes well, I’ve been busy taking care of that feline you gave me.” Loki grumbles at him, unwilling to show his cards just yet.

“Is she working out? Loki, if you do not wish to keep her please let me know. I’ll take her back at once. You both should not suffer each other’s company needlessly.”

Loki stifles a laugh at his brother’s distress and decides to have a little fun. “She’s a beast, Thor. An absolute terror. All those Amazon boxes were replacing things of mine she destroyed with those razor sharp claws. She took out my drapes again just yesterday.”

Thor pales, “I’m truly sorry, brother. I did not mean to bring you trouble.”

“Thinking was never your strong suit, brother. Now, if you’re truly willing to take back your ill-advised gift come collect it now and let me be rid of the cursed thing.” Loki is rolling in mirth internally but keeps a stoic face as to not clue Thor in on his fun.

Thor nods solemnly and follows Loki back to his room. The first thing Thor notices is that Loki’s drapes are still intact. The second is the large carpeted piece of furniture in the corner by Loki’s desk that he assumes is a cat home of sorts. Thor scans the room more thoroughly and notices various cat toys, a small leopard print bed, a motorized water dispenser, and several other new additions to his brother’s room. Thor glances over a Loki who has his arms wrapped around his slim waist literally holding back his laughter. Finally Loki’s laughter bursts and he doubles over, eyes watering as he cackles.

“I was tearing myself up worrying about that cat!” Thor booms.

Loki gasps, fighting for words between laughs. “I’m sorry! Your face though, Thor. You can be so dense sometimes!” Elska hops up on the bed and licks Loki’s arm waiting to be picked up. His laughter eases and he scoops her up, “Come here, Elska. Show Uncle Thor that you’re well cared for.”

“Elska?” Thor asks, still shocked from the sight of Loki’s room.

“Yes, I thought it fitting. She’s such a good little love.” Loki coos the last part at her while rubbing a long finger under her chin. The kitten purrs happily and leans in against Loki’s chest.

“You had me worried.” Thor complains and gives Loki a shove.

Loki glares at him, holding Elska tighter, “Don’t jostle my girl, Thor.”

Thor huffs but doesn’t argue. “I’m glad you two are getting along. I’ll be going then.”

Loki looks down at the little bundle of grey fluff in his arms and decides maybe companionship isn’t overrated after all. “Or you could stay awhile?”

Thor turns from the door, stunned by Loki’s suggestion.

“You don’t have to if you have plans. But maybe you could stay and see some of the tricks I’ve been teaching Elska. She’s such a bright little girl.”

Thor’s throat is thick with emotion. He’s yearned for his brother’s company for so long he had started to wonder if they would ever find their way back to each other. They had been brothers and best friends for 1,500 years but the last few years they’d grown apart and it had been devastating to him. “I’d like that very much.” Thor finally says.

“As would I, brother.” Loki smiles at Thor and waves him over to take a seat. He grabs a feathered bird on a string so he can show off Elska’s great hunting prowess. She’s lively, chasing the bird around the room and pouncing on it happily.

“Here, let me give it a try.” Thor motions to the string and Loki hands it over to him without complaint.

Thor moves the toy around for her a few times and decides to give it a higher swing to make the chase more exciting. Unfortunately Thor does not consider his hair falling over his shoulders and the string tangles in his blonde mane, the toy lodging itself in it. Elska was already on the move and she leaps up, tiny claws out, and latches on to Thor’s shoulder and neck. She scrapes his jaw as she tries to catch her toy and Thor cries out as she rakes shallow cuts on his skin. Loki is watching, horrified and amused, as Thor struggles to pull her off of him.

“You’re a demon!” Thor scolds her mildly, holding her out directly in front of his face. Loki is about to intervene when Elska leans forward and takes a long raspy lick right down the center of Thor’s face. Thor is silent for a moment, shocked, and then begins laughing heartily. He hands Elska back to Loki who is barely containing his amusement. “This is definitely your cat, brother.” Thor tells him, “You’re two of a kind.”

Loki joins in his laughter and has to agree, they truly are two of a kind.

The End

Thank you so much for reading! Fun fact: elska in Old Norse means affection/love. So if anyone was wondering about the name, there ya go!

#star’s multi fandom follower celebration #star-spangled-man-with-a-plan #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #thor odinson #thor #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #non cannon compliant #not cannon compliant #this is my AU and i do what i want #marvel #marvel fanfic #marvel fandom #marvel fangirl #marvel avengers #non canon #not canon #not canon compliant

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sulfurousdreamscapes · 5 years

Text

Parts 6/6 complete.

“You want to fuse with your cat?” Annie asked. “I’m sorry, we only fuse people.”

The man opposite the desk nodded his head with deep understanding, and stared off at the floor for several moments. Annie tried to catch his gaze, and smiled. “If there is someone you know who would consent to fusing with you…”

The man’s eyes gleamed as he looked at Annie. “Consent? What does this mean?”

If it weren’t for the foreign accent, Annie would have considered the question plainly offensive. But she was patient—she had been hired to be patient—and she joined her hands on the desk.

“To consent is to… well, when someone agrees to something, that’s consenting. So if someone agrees to be fused with you, they consent to the fusion.” She wanted to add something, something patronising like ‘Do you understand?’, but she decided against it.

The man stroked his chin, as if to feel a stubble that wasn’t there. “Is it necessary? To consent?”

Annie took a breath. “Yes sir, it’s quite important from a legal and ethical standpoint to consent to a fusion. It’s an irreversible procedure and… well, it’s just necessary, yes.”

The man stared off to his left, clearly disappointed. Finally, he smiled at Annie and got up. With a curt little bow for a goodbye, he left the office. Annie sighed and touched her head.

The next day, the man returned, this time with a woman. He flashed a grin at Annie. “Do you remember? I am from yesterday. George. And this,” he gestured at the expressionless woman, “This is Candace.”

Annie sipped from a glass of water, then smiled and nodded at Candace.

“She consents to fusion. We will fuse,” the man grinned.

Annie stared at the refracted world through the glass of water. She wished she could stay in it forever, ogling at a word out of shape, out of form.

“We will need to vet both of you,” she said. “It’s a lengthy, but comprehensive process that will involve several agreements, interviews, medical check-ups, and…” she tapped her chin with a pen, trying to remember the spiel. Thankfully, she didn’t have to.

“We can do tomorrow,” George said.

“No, no,” Annie resisted the urge to touch her head again. “This will take at least three months. I’m sorry, but that’s the best we can do.”

George frowned, tapped his feet, and stormed out of the room. Candace watched him leave and stuck her hands in her pockets.

“Is your name really Candace?” Annie asked.

“No,” the woman said.

“And did you actually consent to fusion?”

The woman shook her head. “He was paying me for the hour. Said I had to act like he told me to. Except he didn’t really tell me, but that’s okay, whatever. I’m a professional.”

Annie took a breath. “I’m going to tell security not to let that man on the premises again,” she said. “I’d suggest you steer clear of guys like him.”

“Like I have a choice,” the woman said as she left the room.

“I’d be happy to tell you more about how you may fuse with your husband,” Annie said. Her eyes squinted over her wide, corporate smile. “Would this be your first fusion?”

The Salunkhes look at each other for a nervous moment. “Yes,” and “Yeah,” they said.

The one of the left, Chandan, leaned forward. “At least, it is the first for me, I can’t speak for Sanjay,” he winked before his husband jabbed him in the bicep.

It was humorous, but Annie knew by now how humour is often used as a mask. Her mind was already conjuring images of bitter disputes, late-night arguments, bubbling frustrations. It was tiresome. And there was also the jab—such a simple, heartfelt action. After they fused—if they fused—they, or he, wouldn’t be able to jab himself.

“We’ve read up extensively on it, though,” Sanjay said, and adjusted his glasses. “I know you will vet us and everything first, but just to be clear, we’re very sure about this.”

“Yes, we’ve made up our minds,” Chandan smiled at his husband.

Annie smiled wider for a moment before sliding her chair closer to the desk. “Mr and Mr Salunkhe, I want you to know that once you fuse, you will no longer be who you are. Your consciousness will cease to function, and—”

“Basically, we’ll die,” Sanjay said.

“No,” Annie reacted immediately on hearing the ’d’ word. “You won’t. You will be fused. It’s just that your consciousness will be gone for good, giving birth to a new consciousness.”

“But basically, it is still death, right?” Sanjay folded his arms.

Couples like these pissed Annie off. She took a breath. “I’m sure neither of us would like to get bogged down by the technicalities, Mr Salunkhe,” she smiled and carried on before Sanjay could counter. “Now, naturally, we don’t want to change your mind about this—if you’ve made it this far, you clearly have thought long and hard about fusion.”

For a moment, Annie flinched. She remembered George, and her smile faded. What had he been up to?

“Ms Tan?” Chandan leaned forward again and smiled when he caught Annie’s attention again. “I was just saying how committed we are to reducing the population, we really think it’s a waste to be two different people, you know? When you can just be one.” He clasped Sanjay’s hand.

Annie took a sip from her glass of water. “Sorry about that,” she said. “Would you like to use an existing body, or commission a new one?”

The Salunkhes looked at each other again, unsure of their collective answer. “What exactly are the pros and cons of each?” Sanjay asked, clearing his throat.

“Well, there are no pros and cons as such, it’s a matter of cost and sentimentality. Using an existing body will be much less expensive, and well, a lot of couples prefer to retain one of their bodies post-fusion. Of course, you could choose to commission a body, which will take approximately 8-12 working days. Many couples choose than option when they want a really fresh start, you know? I’ve heard some call it the ‘full deal’,” Annie laughed. Professionally.

Once again, the Salunkhes looked at each other, sizing up each others’ opinions and bumbling towards a consensus. “Commission, yes, we’ll commission a body,” they muttered, both to themselves and to Annie.

In her mind, Annie knew they were going to go broke if they commissioned a body. Just another thing she’d learned, being in the business. That meant a shitty beginning for the post-fusion individual, but that wasn’t Annie’s problem.

Her phone lit up and danced on the table. It was a call, and the ID said “Eileen (Candace)”. Annie picked up the phone in her hands and stood up. “I’m terribly sorry, but this is urgent for me. Please remain seated, my assistant Harpal will handle the rest of your appointment.”

“I think he wants to try fusing with me again,” Eileen said in hushed tones. Annie had not expected Eileen to call her so soon after they’d shared numbers. From the whispering, she may be in a bathroom cubicle, Annie thought.

“Report him to the police,” Annie said. The receptionist returned to the lobby from her bathroom break, so Annie smiled at her and exited the office entirely to stand in the corridor.

“Are you serious?” Eileen asked. “I can’t go to the police.” Annie sensed that Eileen wanted to say just one more word, and that it wasn’t a kind word.

“Shit, okay,” Annie said and began making her way to the stairs. “Where is he taking you? Moro?”

“I don’t know,” Eileen’s voice trailed a little. “What’s Moro?”

“It’s a competing company. Uh… they have an oval, yellow logo, looks like a cough drop?”

“I don’t see any cough drops, Annie. Uh, is it okay if I call you that?”

“Everyone calls me Annie,” Annie said, with a smile almost as old as her.

“Cool. So what do I do now? I can’t stay here in the bathroom for too long.”

“Where are you exactly? I’ll come to you. I can scare him off,” Annie stepped out off the last of the steps and strode towards the exit of the office complex.

“I’m in a public bathroom by Tsai Street, near the dock end. ‘George’ is waiting outside. Shit, I think he just messaged me, I heard a notif go off.”

“Dock end?” Annie almost stopped on her way to her car. Switching her phone hand, she unlocked the car and got in. “There’s nothing there, definitely not Moro. Are you sure he wants to fuse with you?”

“I don’t know,” Eileen said, her voice breathy now. Annie heard a flush and a creak.

“Stall him, I’m on my way.”

Eileen hung up.

Annie checked the time as she spun the steering wheel and turned towards Tsai Street. She had maybe forty-five minutes to get back to the office. Harpal wouldn’t snitch, would they?

The streets were packed with people wearing red and yellow, traditional festival colours. Lanterns hung from windows and shops, some of them lit even in the daytime. Even in the poorest districts, people found a way to celebrate their ancestors, even if it meant a hit to the power bill. As crowded as it was, Annie wondered how much more crowded it would have been if it weren’t for fusion technology.

Annie expected her phone to buzz at any moment. The real question was who would be calling: Eileen, Harpal, or her boss, Constance.

When the phone did buzz, it was just a notification—but it was from Eileen. She was sharing her location, and it was at the docks. The closer Anita got to the location pin, the more she felt like she was getting into a situation she had nothing to do with. Something filthy, even.

No, Annie told herself. I need to make sure that girl is safe.

She pulled into a public parking spot, paid the bill, and walked with her phone up. The trail led us to the boardwalk, then the pier, and then the wooden bridges joining the parked boats together.

“What the hell am I doing?” Annie muttered under her breath as she made her way through the bridges and onto the first boat, then onto the second. Annie never got seasick, but she did always find the swaying of boats to be a little disconcerting.

It was mostly old, swarthy men on the decks, chatting by tables and playing digital mahjong. Some of the boats had lanterns, too. The farther away from the pier she got, the more Annie worried about Eileen. This had all the signs of some third-rate, illegal fusion shop, and they don’t care about consent.

When she finally reached the boat in question, she found an open trapdoor, and a flight of stairs leading into a lower deck. Annie confirmed Eileen’s location and descended the steps.

The stairs led to a brightly lit room, with red carpeting, a fake reindeer head mounted to the wood-panelled wall, an antique globe with outdated political borders, and a lot of other tacky shit that reminded her of—

“Oh, no,” Annie groaned.

George turned to look at her. Eileen turned to look at her. The man behind the desk was already staring at her.

“Anita,” he said. “What a pleasant surprise. Here to join me again?”

“Let’s go, Eileen,” Annie said, “You’re not getting fused with anyone here.”

Eileen’s doe eyes were tired, and she looked searchingly at the other people in the room, as if seeking their permission first.

“Get up, Eileen,” Annie said. “I have to be back in ten minutes.”

Eileen got up. George started saying something in his native language, something loud and sharp. Eileen flinched, but she did take two steps towards me. I almost had her wrist in my hands when the man behind the desk spoke again.

“You’ve been away so long, Anita,” he sighed. Eileen looked at him and gasped. Annie looked at him too, and then at the handgun in his right hand, pointed at Eileen. “Not even a ‘hi’ for me?”

Anita had sworn never to speak to him. It only made things worse when she did. This time, she couldn’t think of any words to say, either. She’d seen the man point guns at people before, but not at anyone she cared about.

“Please have a seat, Candace. Eileen. Whatever you like to be called,” the man said. Eileen obeyed, and turned her back to Annie for good measure. The handgun’s dark little hole was still trained on her heart.

“Anita,” the man looked up. “I wish I could offer you a seat, but I only have two. Don’t hold it against me, alright?” He smiled. “But of course you will.”

The phone in Anita’s hand started buzzing and then lit up with a caller ID. It was Harpal. Time was almost up. She could still make it, but only if she dumped Eileen here.

“I didn’t peg you for someone who’d fall in love with a whore, but then I never really pegged you right, did I?” the man cocked his head a little.

Annie’s skin came alive, and she felt herself transcending into dream-space, except now she was carrying real life with her.

“I’m not in love with her,” Annie barked at the man, “I’m saving her from you.”

“It’s good to hear your voice, Anita,” The man laughed and shook his head. “I had to watch your childhood videos so many times, just to remember what you sounded like. I dreamt about you, do you know that? I dreamt you were back, and I could hear your voice.”

Annie felt like she’d been shot, but there was no smoke coming out of the handgun. Just a smile on the man’s lips. Her phone was buzzing again. This time the screen said “Constance”.

“Sounds like it’s an important call,” the man said. “More important than me?”

The man plugged a device with antennae into the computer under his desk. Anita’s phone fell silent, and then the screen dimmed, and then it was dead.

“Now tell me,” the man leaned forward in his desk, gun still pointed at Eileen. “How have you been? Where do you live? Where do you work? Have you been eating right? It doesn’t look like you’re eating enough.”

Anita couldn’t bear to look at that smile, so she focused on the handgun instead. Keep your mouth zipped, she told herself.

“You know I care about you, don’t you, Anita?” the man said. “I care enough about you that I’m willing to shoot these two just to get you to talk to me.”

George frowned and looked at the man now, perhaps not having understood what had been said. Eileen just had her head buried in her hands.

“You’re more important to me than any client,” he said, casually aiming the gun at George.

“Don’t fucking shoot,” Annie said through gritted teeth.

The man’s eyes lit up at her words.

Annie wondered what to call the man. Dad? Mum? Did he have a first name now? Would it be appropriate to call him that? Should she just call him ‘Parent’ and leave it at that? But she didn’t want to be reminded that he was her parent—that he was both of her parents. But she had to at least acknowledge that he had been someone important in her life once, right?

Oh, she was distracted.

“Anita?” the man smiled cordially, chin pulled back, like a schoolteacher.

Should she tell him that no one really called her that anymore?

“What do you think about my offer?” the man asked, “Have you given it some thought, after all this time?”

“It’s not an offer,” Annie said. She had wanted to say the words a long time ago, and she had said the words so many times in her head. Saying them now, for real, was like slipping into a new reality. “It’s a surrender. You want me to surrender my mind and body to you—for what?”

“Why, to be close to you, Anita. So we can be family again—”

Annie clenched her fist. Get out of here, she told herself, but her eyes kept turning to Eileen.

“Are you listening, Anita?” the man sighed. “You will be a part of what we become, something greater, something wiser. You know I respect you. That is the only reason why I want you to fuse with me. Tell me, would I ask you to fuse with me if I hated you? If I thought you were an idiot?”

How much of him was Dad? Anita wanted to know if he was held hostage inside the body, somehow. All she could see was Mom, but surely Dad was somewhere in there too.

“Do you remember when we went to the Moro-Encetal Tower, when I was nine?” Annie asked.

The man paused and drew his chin further in. His eyes searched the desk, as if he was trying to piece together his memories.

“We stood out on the observation floor, where the floor was glass, and you could see the city below you, teeming like little ants carrying grains of sugar.”

“You were eight,” the man said.

“You thought I was eight, but I was nine. You could never really remember my birthday, could you? But Mom always remembered my age, down to the minute of my birth.”

“Of course, you were nine,” the man frowned, eyes darting between the floor and Annie’s eyes. “And it was so beautiful up there, wasn’t it?”

“That’s what I said,” Annie smiled, “That it was beautiful. And you said that it’s scary, that you’re afraid you’ll fall and crush your skull.”

“Yes,” the man closed his eyes. “That’s what I said. You remember so well, even though you are just… you.”

Annie already had her next words in mind, but the gun fired, and she felt her entire body collapse. She looked at her body, searching for blood, searching for a hole, but there wasn’t one. There had been a whizzing sound.

Then another loud crack, and the room lit up for a very brief moment, and Eileen screamed, and Annie stood stunned at the man leaning back in his desk, crimson hole where one of his eyes should be.

The gun was in George’s hand. “Fucking piece of shit,” he growled at the dead man. “You want to shoot me? Me?”

The man in the seat looked surprised, and a little scared. Just like her dad had, back when she was nine and they’d visited the Moro-Encetal Tower.

"I'm sorry, was he close to you?" George said, examining the smoking handgun even as Eileen looked at him, eyes blank but teary.

"No," Annie said as she watched the many, many furrows on George's forehead. He looked through the sights, aiming the gun at a wall.

"You understand, no? He was to kill me," George went on, not looking at either of the women in the room. "It was me or him. It was defending."

"Yeah," Annie said. She tried unlocking her phone, and then remembered that the jammer was still on. She didn't want to risk making moves, though.

"But it is sad," George sighed. "I thought, maybe here they will fuse me. And it was going so well. But then..." he shrugged, hands in the air. "You never know what life brings, is that not right?"

Annie licked her lips. "Could you please unplug the device from the computer?" she asked weakly.

George blinked several times while he stared at Annie. "I am sorry. You know how it is, is that not right? So you can tell the police, and I can go to jail. Will you do that?"

"Do you want me to?" Annie croaked.

"No!" George's eyes almost popped out, furious and red. Eileen jerked in her seat. "What do you think I am? Idiot? I will leave. I will go far away, and then you can bring police and friends here."

"Okay," Annie said. She found it hard to look at anything other than the dead man behind the desk.

George did not expect that answer. He got out of his seat and casually aimed the gun at Eileen. "Candace, will you please come?"

"No," Eileen said.

George sighed and stood silent for what seemed like an eternity to Annie. Finally, he tossed the gun onto the desk and shook his head.

"I have killed the man, but I will not kill a woman," he said, pinching his brow. "I will find someone else. Then I will fuse. It will be okay for everyone."

"Why do you want to fuse so bad?" Annie blurted out.

Again, George had not expected Annie to say those words, and he stood wondering how to answer the question.

"Just be your fucking self," Annie went on. "Do you really want to lose yourself just to be more than what you are? Is that how much you hate yourself?"

George raised his eyebrows and nodded slightly. "You know, when you fuse, you die, right?" he asked. "I want to fuse, so that someone else will live. Someone will a different life, different problems. Maybe it will be better. I have saved money for that. I have sold everything for that."

Eileen got up and walked out of the room like she was leaving a family argument. She didn't seem afraid, just fed up of everything.

"That's really sadistic, you know?" Annie said. "Do you know what that means? Sadistic?"

The man shook his head.

"It means when you're evil for evil's sake. You just want to create someone new, with new problems, instead of solving your own."

George nodded and then shrugged. "It's how we do it, is that not right? It's how we all do it."

Author’s note: I know, I know, it’s probably not a very satisfying end. But I really enjoyed this concept, and I think it’s very likely I’ll work on this idea on a more expanded level in the future. Thank you so much for reading!

#writing #writers #words #writeblr #creative writing #literature #spilled ink #spilled words #original fiction #spilled prose #original prose #short story #short stories #short fiction #fiction #prose #writers on tumblr #daily writing

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write-havoc · 5 years

Text

The Glasswing Butterfly Part 16

Summary: Chuck has never thought of herself as anything special. Just an average beta living her life next door to a womanizing alpha named Negan. But her life, and Negan’s too, are turned upside down when Chuck suddenly presents as omega.

This is a non-zombie AU featuring A/B/O dynamics.

Fandom: The Walking Dead AU

Pairing: Negan/Original Female Character

Status: Ongoing

Contains: swearing, smut

Intended for readers 18+ of age only

Masterlist in my bio

“Lose the tie.”

Chuck’s voice makes Negan turn from his own reflection in the mirror to the doorway where she stands. “You think?” he asks. “I’m trying to make a good impression here,” he replies with a boyish smirk.

She walks over to him and lightly tugs the tie loose from his collar. “The button up and jacket is enough. A tie will just look too formal.” She pulls the cloth free and drapes it around her own neck. “And you know those teenagers will want to drop you down a peg if they think you’re too serious.”

“Fuck. You’re right.” He smoothes his hands down his chest as he turns back to check himself out in the mirror.

“Are you nervous?”

He gives her a look. “No.”

She giggles. “Yes you are! You’re nervous about your first day teaching again.”

“It’s not exactly teaching . I’m fuckin’ substituting. It’s more like goddamn babysitting .”

“But you’re still nervous,” she teases.

“My kids loved the shit outta me back in the day. Guarantee those little fuckers at Alexandria High are gonna love me, too.”

“I know they will.” She leans up to kiss him. “You better get going.”

He looks at his watch. “Shit. Yeah.”

“At least it’s only the last few periods today. Start you off easy to begin with.”

“Yeah. I’ll see you later, baby.”

With a kiss goodbye, Negan heads out of the house and to the school. The teacher he’s subbing for is one of the English teachers, so he’s directed to her room. As he walks into the classroom before the last bell rings, he sees her sitting at her desk waiting for him. She’s a beta, about middle aged with shoulder length graying dark hair and a few extra ponds around the middle.

“Mr. Negan,” she greets.

He shakes her hand. “Just Negan is fine.”

“Thanks for coming in.”

“It’s no problem.”

She gathers her bags from the desk. “I really don’t miss much work,” she starts, almost apologetically, “but I’m picking up my cat from the vet. He just got fixed and they aren’t open later.”

He immediately shelves the joke on his tongue about hoping her pussy feels better. “Don’t wanna leave him there overnight. He’ll claw your furniture to get back at you when you get him home,” he settles on instead.

“Probably.” She laughs. “I left instructions on the desk for you. Just have the kids read whatever story I wrote down and tell them we’ll discuss it tomorrow.”

“Alright then.”

As she leaves the room, the kids, all juniors, start to file in. Negan writes his name on the board and waits for everyone to show up. Once the last bell rings, he takes his place at the front of the room, leaning on the podium to address the students.

“Alright. First thing’s first, I’m Negan.” He points to the board. “Just Negan. Not Mr. Negan or Professor Negan or whatever. Secondly, if I start swearing, are any of y’all gonna go crying to your parents?”

The students all look around at each other but don’t say anything to indicate they would.

“Good.” Negan walks over to the desk to read over the instructions left for him. “Your teacher wants you guys to read The Yellow Wallpaper so you can talk about it next class. Page 134 in your literature books. I’m gonna read that shit too and I’m a fast fuckin’ reader so if you guys start fucking around before I’m done, I’m gonna know that you’re not reading your shit.”

The kids are taken aback by his language, but it’s refreshing for them to hear a teacher speaking that way.

“Any questions before we get this shit started?”

One boy holds up his hand and Negan nods at him to proceed. “Can we say fuck?”

“Does your teacher usually let you say fuck?” Negan counters.

The boy shakes his head.

“Then the answer’s no. This is still her fuckin’ classroom, so you follow her rules.” He points to another raised hand, this one belonging to a girl.

“Are you an alpha?” she asks.

He chuckles a little at her bluntness. “Yup. I’m an alpha. You got any other alpha teachers here?��

The students shake their heads. It’s not surprising that there aren’t any other alphas here; teaching isn’t one of the fields alphas usually gravitate to. But it never bothered Negan before to go against convention. He was a great teacher and he’s planning on being one again.

“Well,” Negan replies, “then, I’m the only one here. It’s not exactly an important distinction, though. I’m a fuckin’ teacher, just like all the rest of them.” He sits behind the desk and pulls the class’s book out to find the story. “Now get reading.”

The next two periods go about the same; he answers the same “Are you an alpha?” question two more times then gets the kids to read their assignment. The last class, all seniors, reads several poems, which doesn’t take too long to finish.

“Since y’all are finished and we have about twenty minutes left,” Negan starts as he looks down at his watch, “why don’t you just work on homework or some shit.”

One of the boys in the class slowly raises his hand.

“Yes?” Negan calls out to him.

“Are you the Negan than killed the Redhead Killer?” the boy tentatively asks.

As the rest of the students look to Negan for his answer, he lets out a sigh. “Look.” He rubs his hand over his chin as she stands from his chair to sit back down on the front of the desk facing the students. “I’m sure you’ve all fuckin’ seen the articles and shit on the internet. Guarantee you’ve got all the fuckin’ information you can already, so you don’t need the goddamn play by play from me. But I get it. There’s a fuckin’ fascination with crime and shit. God knows I know that. I dodged fuckin’ reporters for weeks and I never once talked about that day with them. You wanna know why?”

The kids all stare wide eyed at him, waiting for him to finish his thought.

“It’s not because I’m ashamed of what I did. Fuck no, I’m not ashamed. I’d do it again in a heartbeat. Was it fucked up? Yeah. But I would do anything to make sure my mate is safe. And the law backed me up.” He lets out a breath. “No, the reason I never talked about it was because it’s none of anyone’s fucking business.” His voice is stern, but not angry. “That shit that happened was between me, my woman, and a sick piece of shit that shouldn’t have been allowed to even breathe the same air we do. And now he doesn’t.”

The students all look around nervously, like they’re being scolded.

“I fuckin’ understand. There’s not a lot of juicy shit that happens here in the suburbs. Then this fuckin’ alpha comes in that was in the goddamn news a few moths ago and you wanna know all about it. But I’m not gonna talk about it. Least of all with you kids. They’d probably fire my ass if I did. And I’d like to keep my job, thank you. Especially since I’m gonna be full time next year. So I’ll make a deal. You all respect my privacy when it comes to that particular event in my life and I’ll be an open book about everything else.” He pauses to look everyone over. “Mostly,” he tacks on. “Anything that won’t get me fired, anyways.”

A girl suddenly speaks up, taking his offer to be open with them seriously. “Are you really mated?”

“Yes,” he answers quickly.

“Is she your true mate?” she asks again. “Like-Like they said in the news?”

Negan considers it with a sigh. “It ain’t like the Disney movies, but...” He shrugs a little. “I guess we’re fuckin’ different from most other pairs.”

“Are you sad that she’s not here right now?”

He scrunches up his face. “I don’t have to be around her 24/7,” he answers with some attitude. “That’s one of those Disney shit things. We can fuckin’ be away from each other without falling apart.”

“How much do you bench press?” a boy close to him asks. “Since... you’re stronger, right?” he adds.

Negan snickers. “Fuck, I don’t know. I ain’t a superhero; I’m just an alpha.”

“Do you go into rut?” another voice calls out.

“Shit, you guys are curious fuckers,” he mutters as he scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah, I go into rut, but I’m not gonna go into details, you little pervs. That falls under shit-that-will-get-me-fired.”

There are a few giggles across the room.

The questions keep coming. “Do you have any kids?”

“No.”

“Why not? Isn’t that why you take a mate?”

Negan lets out a little chuckle, though it’s not really with humor. “Don’t you have any alpha/omega health classes here to get all this info from?”

They shake their heads.

Negan is a little surprised by that. He thought that learning about all the presentations would be in the general curriculum. “Shit. That’s kinda fucked up.” He wipes his hand over his forehead, thinking that maybe part of his job here should be to set these kids straight with regards to this. “Mated pairs are just like beta couples. They can decide not to have children if they fuckin’ want. Or maybe they can’t fuckin’ have children even if they want to. It fuckin’ happens. Mates aren’t just fuckin’ baby machines like some people might have you believe. We’re people . We might have stronger urges, but we’re fuckin’ people first. Just like all of you.”

Understanding seems to wash over them, but there is still a sense of confusion there. It’s more than likely that these kids haven’t really had a lot of experience with alphas or omegas, considering this area is more suburban and less populated than the city. This means that they are a little ignorant of how those groups actually are, instead of just how they are portrayed in the media.

When the final bell rings, the students rush out of the room, ready to get home for the day. As Negan gathers up his things at the desk, he hears a soft knock on the door frame. Raising his head, he sees a good looking beta woman, early thirties, in a pencil skirt and a low cut white blouse. Her dark hair falls around her face in waves, though she makes sure to throw it over one shoulder.

“How was your first day?” she asks as she walks further into the room.

He looks back down to his bag. “It was fuckin’ fine.”

“I’m Lara. Lara Kline.” She holds out her hand for him to shake. “I’m another English teacher. My room’s just across the hall.”

He accepts her hand and shakes it. “Negan,” he greets.

“It’s been a while since we’ve had a new face here. And I hear you’ll be taking over P.E. next year.” She gives him a smile and tucks some of her hair behind her ear.

“News travels fast, huh?”

She shrugs. “I suppose.” She takes another step toward him. “You used to teach, right? This isn’t your first go.”

“I taught for about a decade. Quit for about a decade.” He stands fully and swings his bag over his shoulder. “It was nice meeting you, but I got my mate waiting at home for me.”

He knows she’s flirting with him. And if it were a year ago, he’d be all over her. But now? He’s not even remotely interested. Sure, she’s attractive. And she’s trying her hardest to be sexy, if that extra undone button on her blouse has anything to say. But it’s just not doing anything for him right now.

“Oh,” she replies. “You’re mated?”

“Yeah.” He starts to walk out of the room. “See ya later,” he calls back. He didn’t really want to indulge her any, but he didn’t want to be rude. Especially since he’s going to be seeing her quite often sooner or later. Hopefully she got the hint that he’s not interested.

Despite the awkward end to the day, the whole ride home, Negan smiles. He didn’t really do much today, but it still felt good for him to be back in the classroom again. After he pulls into the garage and parks his Challenger, he pats his Harley as he passes it.

“Soon, my girl,” he says out loud. He hasn’t gotten a chance to work on the bike yet, since the weather has been too cold to really do so. But when spring arrives and those first warm days come along, he’ll be out in the driveway getting her road ready.

Before he gets to the door to the house, it opens and Chuck comes to stand in the doorway.

“Did it go well?” she asks excitedly.

He gives her a quick kiss then walks past her into the living room. “It was good.” He sets his bag down on the couch before sitting down beside it.

“Any trouble with the kids?”

When she sits down next to him, he wraps his arm around her and pulls her in closer to him. “Nope. Though I had one kid ask about...” he looks over to her, “that shit.”

It’s obvious to her what he means. “Oh.” She looks away for a moment, then cuddles up to his side. “What’d you say?”

“I told them I wasn’t gonna fuckin’ talk about it. But I said I’d talk about anything else. Which might’ve been a goddamn mistake because they were asking questions left and right about being an alpha. I guess they’ve never learned about us before.”

“Really? That’s weird. My high school was smaller than this one and we had classes on alpha and omega development.”

“Yeah. I don’t know. I guess it’s not in the fuckin’ curriculum here.”

“What if you did it? Couldn’t you get the certification to teach a health class like that?”

He shrugs. “Probably. But if the powers that fuckin’ be don’t already think learning about people like us is important already, they’re probably not gonna change their fuckin’ minds any time soon.”

“Tell them how curious the kids are.” She shrugs a shoulder. “It won’t hurt too ask.”

Sighing, he wipes his hand over his beard. “I suppose.”

That Sunday, Negan hosts a Super Bowl party for Rick, Carl, and Simon. Even if none of their preferred teams are playing (Redskins for both Negan and Simon and the Falcons for Carl and Rick), they can all band together to root against the Patriots.

Negan is a little nervous about Simon meeting Chuck for the first time. Even though he’s been nothing but friendly for as long as he’s known him, Simon is still an alpha. He just hopes everything will go smoothly so he won’t have to cut ties with the man.

Rick and Carl arrive first, naturally, since they live only a few houses away. They end up bringing some snacks, chips and salsa, which they set up in the living room. After Rick and Carl get a quick tour of the house, everyone settles down in front of the tv.

Rick grabs a chip before before commenting on the house. “It’s nice. It’s set up a little bit differently from ours, though.”

“It’s perfect for us,” Negan replies with a look over to Chuck beside him.

“Hey,” Carl cuts in. “Are you teaching at my school now?” he asks Negan. “Someone told me you were there.”

“I substituted the other day,” Negan answers. “Didn’t see you.”

“I’m in Miss Kline’s English class,” Carl clarifies.

“Oh.” Negan chuckles. “I met her.”

Rich laughs, too, like they’re sharing a joke. He has met the woman before, so he knows what probably happened already.

“What?” Chuck asks, picking up on the vibes.

Negan thinks of how to frame the the answer. “She’s, uh...”

Carl jumps right in to complete the thought. “She’s hot.”

Rick shakes his head at Carl’s candor, though he’s still laughing.

Raising her eyebrows at this information, Chuck turns to Negan. “She’s hot ?”

“She’s got nothing on you.” Negan pulls Chuck into him and kisses the top of her head. “You got nothing to worry about.”

She believes him, but it still has a twinge of jealousy blooming inside her. “I’ll keep that in mind.

When Simon finally comes in, with a case of beer under his arm, things are tense for a few moments. Simon is careful not to move too quickly towards Chuck, just in case Negan would take it the wrong way. He truly doesn’t want to cause any problems, so he holds his hand out, allowing Chuck to come to him to take it. Thankfully, once they actually do shake hands, the tension dissipates.

“I’m just gonna come right out and say it,” Simon starts. “You smell like my sister.”

Chuck giggles a little, not expecting that. “Really?”

“You have a sister?” Negan asks. Simon had never mentioned her before now.

“Yeah. She pretty much forbade me from telling other alphas about her. Especially single ones. But since you’re mated now...” He shrugs then turns back to Chuck. “But, yeah. You smell a lot like her.”

That makes Negan relax some. Alphas are usually very protective of their family members, especially their omega family, so if Chuck smells like Simon’s sister, maybe he’ll see her more as family than a potential mate.

“Do I smell like your brother?” Simon asks Chuck, wondering if it goes both ways.

“I don’t have a brother. Or any alpha family, actually. I came from beta parents.”

Rick looks surprised. “Really? I didn’t know that was possible.”

“It’s not common,” she says to Rick then turns back to Simon. “But you smell...” she thinks of how to describe it, “I guess... sort of... safe . At least safer than most other alphas I’ve met. Maybe that’s sorta like brotherly.” She shrugs then looks over to Negan for a moment. “It’s hard to describe.”

Negan just nods, his fears about Simon being a threat thankfully allayed.

As the game gets underway, Chuck tries her hardest to get into it. She was never one for sports, so it’s a little rough going. Usually when Negan would watch football, she’d be doing something on her laptop or iPad, but she’s actually trying to pay attention now.

“Oh, come on!”

“Fuck!”

“You kidding me?!”

Something happened that has the men all upset, but she isn’t sure what. It entertains her, though, seeing them all get worked up over it.

“Not going well?” she finally asks.

Negan lets out a huff. “If that fucker Tom Brady gets another Super Bowl ring...”

“They’re a bunch of cheaters!” Carl adds. “They don’t deserve it!”

Chuck just giggles, wondering who Tom Brady is. When halftime comes around, Negan grills off some burgers for everyone to eat, even though they’ve been stuffing their faces with snacks the whole time.

“How’s Michonne?” Chuck asks Rick as they sit around the dining room table to eat.

He quickly wipes his mouth before speaking. “She’s good. Got a lot of work coming in now after-“ He stops himself from completing the thought. Since she had been Negan’s lawyer during the whole Eldritch situation, her name had been thrown around quite a bit, making her more recognizable. It didn’t even really matter that she never set foot in a court room for that, since no charges were brought against Negan.

Chuck just nods. “That’s good, I guess.”

“She’s a good woman,” Negan comments to Rick. “How the hell’d she end up with your sorry ass?”

Rick laughs. “I don’t know.”

“I still owe her for all the shit she did for me,” Negan adds.

Rick nods. “I’m sure she’d just say she was doing her job.” He turns over to Simon. “So, what do you do, Simon?”

“I own a bar in Charlottesville,” he answers. “That’s where I met Negan.”

“It’s a little weird, alphas being friends, isn’t it?” Carl asks.

Negan just shrugs. “Simon’s never done anything to make me hate him.”

“It’s not always competition,” Simon clarifies. “Alphas can butt heads a lot, but we can be friends, too. Though I wouldn’t have called Negan much of a friend until recently. More like an acquaintance.”

“Just come right out and say I was an asshole,” Negan jokes.

“Not really an asshole,” Simon clarifies. “More like you couldn’t be bothered with having a friend.”

Negan nods thinking it over. “That’s fair. But shit changed.” He gives Chuck a quick wink, letting her know that she had a hand in that change.

Once the game is over and the men are all mad that the Patriots did actually win, they start to bid their farewells.

Before Rick leaves, he mentions to Negan that some of the guys in town run a fantasy football league. “I wasn’t in it this year, but I can introduce you to the guys next season if you want.”

“Shit yeah! I used to love fantasy football. Haven’t done it in years.”

Simon speaks up. “Can I get in on that, too?”

Rick nods. “Yeah. I’m sure they’d accept you guys.”

As Chuck and Negan’s first Valentine’s Day comes around, they plan on a nice dinner together at home. Negan actually has to work during the day, but he’s planning on cooking dinner for the two of them once he gets home.

In between classes, Negan heads off to the teacher’s lounge to grab a cup of coffee. Once he walks in, he hears two female teachers talking as they stand in front of the coffee machine. One woman he doesn’t know and the other is Lara Kline, the flirty English teacher he met on his first day.

“Could you imagine?” the unknown woman continues, both of them not realizing that they’re no longer alone.

“Oh, I imagine it. A lot ,” Lara says with a giggle.

“He is hot. But an alpha? Wouldn’t he be rough?”

“I wouldn’t mind. I’ve always wanted to be with an alpha in rut,” Lara says dreamily. “And he is just perfect.”

“You kinky bitch.” As the woman laughs, she happens to turn her head to see Negan standing in the doorway. “Oh, shit.”

He had a feeling they were talking about him, but her reaction upon seeing him confirms it. He decides not to acknowledge it, though. “Ladies,” he greets then pushes forward to the coffee machine.

The unknown woman quickly leaves the room, too embarrassed to see what Negan might say. Lara, on the other hand, stays rooted to her spot, watching Negan as he pours the coffee into his cup.

“The offer’s there,” she coos quietly.

He flicks his gaze to her. “And what offer is that?”

She takes a step toward him. “I think you heard what we were talking about,” she whispers. “It is Valentine’s Day, after all.

Chuckling lightly, Negan leans forward to place his mouth next to her ear. “The answer’s no. I have a fuckin’ mate.” When he backs away, he sees the smile on her face fall, turning her expression into a scowl.

“Does that really matter?” she bites back.

His own face falls into a dangerous expression. “It’s all that fuckin’ matters,” he growls.

Lara takes a quick step back, her eyes still focused on his as she tries to determine just how serious he is. She’s heard that even if alphas are possessive of their omegas, they’re not exempt from stepping out on them.

Negan, being completely done with this conversation, picks up his coffee cup and turns away from the woman just as the bell rings.

At the end of the day, he decides to stop off at Jo’s office. He knocks twice on her opened door and waits for her to look up at him.

“Negan,” she greets happily. “Come in.” She gestures to the chair in front of her desk.

Negan takes the seat, letting out a breath as he sits back and crosses his leg to rest his ankle over his knee. “I need to cover my ass on something.”

Jo raises her eyebrow at him as she pulls the reading glasses off of her nose. “Alright,” she says slowly. She’s not exactly worried about what he’ll say next; despite not knowing him for long, she trusts him.

Before she okayed Negan to work at her school, she did her research on him. His past work as a teacher was remarkable, and his sudden departure from the field was certainly understandable given his wife’s death. When his more recent history came up, she had quite a bit to think about. It was during their first phone calls that she really made her decision. His attitude was just so refreshing that she knew he would bring something to the school that it has been sorely lacking. That being, a new perspective.

He scratches at his beard before speaking. “Lara Kline,” he starts to explain. “She flirted with me my first day. Came onto me harder today.”

Jo nods, listening to him. “What’d she do?”

“I walked in on her talking to some other fuckin’ teacher about wanting to fuck an alpha in rut. Then she said ‘the offer stands’ or some shit. I told her I wasn’t interested.”

“Do you want to fill out paperwork for it? Harassment claim?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t wanna get the girl in trouble. I just wanna cover my ass. Just in case.”

“I’ll write a memo.” She studies him a moment before letting out a breath. “You know, I legally can’t ask you about your cycle.”

He gives her a smile, knowing where this is going. “I’m aware.”

“However, if you need a few days off now and again...”

“I’m fine talking about it, I don’t give a shit. I’m not gonna get the fuckin’ Alpha League to sue you or anything.”

She shrugs a shoulder. “That’s good to know.”

“Chuck-“ he pauses. “Chuck’s my mate. It’s her nickname,” he explains, knowing it might sound weird. “Anyway, she doesn’t do suppressants so heats come every few months. It can be irregular.” He doesn’t want to get too detailed, but he figures Jo should know. “Last heat was end of November, so...”

“We should expect you to need some time off in a week or two,” she completes the thought.

He nods once. “Probably.”

“It’s not much of a big deal now that you’re a substitute. You can just tell us you can’t come in. Next year when you’re full time? We’ll have to make plans. But it’s still doable.”

“I promise it won’t be fuckin’ distracting.”

“That’s good.”

“You know, the kids really don’t know shit about alphas or omegas.”

“Really?”

“No. They asked me a lot of shit about it. Most of them believe fuckin’ stereotypes about us.”

“That’s pretty unfortunate, I suppose.”

“It really fuckin’ is. I was kinda fuckin’ shocked that there aren’t any alpha/omega health classes here.”

She smiles, figuring out where this is going. “Are you suggesting that we add a class, Negan?”

“I think you should.”

“And would you happen to know someone with the proper certificate to do so?” she asks with a lilt.

He chuckles at her tone. “I know of someone that can get the certificate before the start of next year.”

“Well, I think it would be a great idea, Negan.” She gives him a smile, knowing that the two of them are in agreement.

While Negan is at work, Chuck tries to think of what she can do for him for their first Valentine’s Day. She knows he’s planning on cooking a meal for them, so she decides to make a dessert. Sifting through a bunch of online recipes, she settles on strawberry cheesecake. After heading out to get the ingredients, she gets to work on the dessert. It’s not the most complicated dish, but it’s a little bit of an ordeal because she has never made anything like it before. Once she gets it all done, the kitchen is a mess, but she’s happy with the results.

“That looks fuckin’ good,” Negan comments from his spot by the archway to the kitchen, his voice startling her.

“Jeez” she clutches her chest. “You scared me! I didn’t hear you come home.”

He walks over to give her a kiss. “Just got here. Saw all this.” He gestures around the room with a chuckle.

“I’ll clean it up.”

“Nah. I got it. You go rest up before dinner.”

“You’re the one that just got home from work.”

“And I’m the one that’s gonna make you a nice ass dinner.” He shoos her out of the kitchen. “I want it to be a fuckin’ surprise.”

“More like you don’t want me messing up your kitchen any further.”

He chuckles. “I would never say that,” he says, faking offense.

“Yeah. You wouldn’t say that. But you’d imply it.”

He laughs as he turns back into the kitchen. Chuck takes this opportunity to get ready for the meal. While she was out today, she bought herself a new dress (and some other things) hoping to surprise Negan by dressing up a little.

She pulls on the black sheath dress with a sweetheart neckline and tries to do her makeup. She’s not too practiced on that front, so she settles for a simple eye with bold red lipstick. Her hair, which she usually only wears one of two ways (down or in pigtail buns), is pulled up into a messy updo. It takes a little fiddling with to get it to look like the sexy kind of messy and not the unkempt kind, but she gets it right in the end.

When Negan yells up the stairs that dinner is ready, she’s just about done.

“I’ll be right down,” she calls out. Giving herself a final look in the mirror, she heads downstairs then into the dining room.

Negan is waiting for her by her chair, ready to pull it out for her when she walks through the archway. He lets out a low whistle once he sees her.

“Shit, baby girl. You got all dolled up for me?”

“I tried.” She giggles then walks over to him.

He gives her a quick kiss before helping her to sit down. “You look amazing.” He takes his seat across the table from her. “I shoulda freshened up.”

“It smells delicious.” Once she takes her first bite, she lets out a soft moan. “It is delicious. You’re such a good cook. I think I’m going to gain weight living with you,” she jokes.

He laughs. “I will cook for you however much you fuckin’ want. No matter how much you want.”

“How did you get so good in the kitchen? Didn’t you say you cooked with your mom?”

He pauses a moment before answering. “Yeah. I used to cook with her when I was little. My father...” he lets out a heavy breath, “he didn’t let her do shit. He controlled every fuckin’ aspect of her life. Except in the kitchen. That was all hers and she was a fuckin’ master. She taught me a lot before she died.”

Chuck just nods, not wanting to push Negan into saying more. He had never really talked about his mother much, the subject being a painful one for him.

“She taught you well,” she says with a soft smile.

“I didn’t cook for a lotta years actually,” he continues. “I presented alpha not long after my mom died and my father told me that cooking was ‘omega’s work’.” He shrugs. “That was that. Until I rented my first apartment with a decent kitchen. I picked it back up. Cooked all kinds of shit.”

“Maybe you can teach me. Most of the stuff I cook is just frozen pizza,” she jokes.

“If you want I can.” His lips curl up in a smile. “Or I can just keep on taking care of you. I kinda like it,” he comments with a bite of his lower lip.

Once the meal is eaten, Chuck brings out her cheesecake. “I hope it’s good. I think I followed the recipe right.”

They both sit down with their slices and look up to each other.

“Smells like fuckin’ cheesecake,” Negan calls out before stabbing his fork in and shoveling a big bite into his mouth. “It’s fuckin’ good,” he mumbles out with his mouth full.

Chuck takes her first bite. “It is good,” she comments, relieved that it isn’t horrible. “It’s really rich, though.”

“This is your go to dessert now.” He takes another big bite. “I love this shit.”

She giggles. “I think if I make this a lot we��re both gonna get fat.” She take a generous bite. “And diabetes,” she ads.

“Worth it.”

With the table cleared, Negan starts to pull Chuck to the garage door.

“What are you doing?” she asks confused.

“Your present is out here.”

“Oh? I thought the meal was my present.”

They walk through the door and down the steps to Negan’s car. “This is a little unconventional of a gift,” he starts as he opens the back door, “so I hope you fuckin’ like it.” He leans down into the car and pulls out a dark purple motorcycle helmet, handing it to a bewildered Chuck.

“It’s a helmet,” she says simply.

“ Your helmet. For when I get the bike up and running.” He looks at her expression for a moment, not able to properly decode it. “Do you hate it?”

She gives him a wide smile. “No. I love it! I’m happy you want to include me with all your motorcycle stuff.”

“Shit, I thought I fucked up there.”

“I would love anything you’d give me.”

He chuckles. “Is that so?”

“Yeah. I don’t really expect you to give me anything, though. You don’t have to.”

“I like giving you shit.” He gives her a quick kiss then bends back down to take another helmet out of his car. This one is black, though it seems to be the same brand as hers, just larger. “We can put these on this shelf until we’re ready to fuckin’ wear them.”

After storing away their new headwear, it’s Chuck’s turn to take Negan by the hand, leading them upstairs to their room.

“I got you a gift, too.” She produces a small box from her nightstand and hands it to him.

“You didn’t have to do that shit.” He accepts the box and opens it, revealing two nice cufflinks. They’re silver and black with an N monogrammed on both in a fancy font.

“I don’t know a lot about cufflinks, so I hope they’re okay.”

“They’re fuckin’ perfect.” He wraps an arm around Chuck and brings her in for a kiss.

“That’s not the end of your gift.” She pulls away from him and turns around, pointing over her shoulder to prompt him to unzip her dress.

With a wide smile on his face, he drags a hand up her waist and over to the zipper, pulling it down slowly. “I’m liking where this is going,” he whispers in her ear.

Once the zipper is opened, he runs both of his hands across her shoulders, dropping her dress to the ground. She turns around to face him, placing her hands on his chest.

“Fuck,” he breathes out, putting his hands on her hips and pushing her away to get a good look at her. “Goddamn, baby girl.” He bites his lip as he takes the sight of her in. “I like this,” he groans as he ghosts his hands over her.

Once she left the store after buying her dress earlier today, she had seen a lingerie shop right across the street. It gave her the idea to do something that she never really did before, buy sexy underwear. The nice shop girl had helped her pick out a black lace balconette bra with matching panties complete with a garter belt holding up nude thigh highs with a seam up the back.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” Chuck says as alluringly as she can.

Negan runs one hand down her thigh, unhooking the clip from her suspender. He repeats the action on the other side, allowing him to pull her stockings down and off her feet. Still knelt down before her, he lays his hands on her hips and pulls her into him to place a kiss just below her belly button.

Giggling at the contact, Chuck runs her hands through his hair. As she looks down at him, she wonders how she got so lucky to have this man as her mate.

He lifts his eyes up to hers, though he keeps his face close to her skin. “You know how fuckin’ much I love you?” His hands rove up from her bottom to the smooth skin of her back.

She bites her lip to try to hide her smile. “How much?”

He stands, pulling her body close to his as he places his mouth next to her ear. “More than anything,” he whispers.

A small gasp leaves her lips at his words before she can stop herself. “That’s a good answer,” she says with a smile on her face.

She takes her time unbuttoning Negan’s shirt, slowly sliding it off of his shoulders to pool behind him. Her hands run down his chest to his belt, unbuckling it then his pants. It only takes a little push for his slacks to fall down his narrow hips to join his shirt at his feet.

As soon as her fingers brush against his clothed bulge, he lets out a low groan. “Shit.”

She lets out a giggle at his reaction. He’s such a tough, strong man, but the lightest of touches from her can elicit such a reaction.

“Lay down on the bed,” she requests, though her hand pushing his chest makes it more of a demand.

He takes a few steps backwards until he can sit down on the bed, never taking his eyes off of her as she stands in front of him. Instead of carrying out her order to lay down, though, he snakes his arm around her back and unlatches her bra.

“As sexy as this shit is,” he pulls the garment off her then gives her bare breasts a squeeze, “I gotta see you.”

Something about how slow they’re going (or maybe it’s just the Valentine’s Day mood) has Chuck ready to go pretty quickly. That fact driven home even more so by the slick dampening her fancy new underwear. Once Negan takes off her garter belt and drags her panties down her legs, he lets out a low chuckle.

“I knew you were fuckin’ drenched,” he teases.

Her cheeks bloom red as she pushes back on his shoulder slightly. “Lay back.” Once he complies, she removes his boxers, freeing his straining erection. “Looks like someone’s excited,” she teases right back.

He suddenly jumps up, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her down under him.

“Negan!” she squeals as he covers her skin with kisses.

The playful affections turn heated quickly and within minutes, the pair are pawing at each other desperately. It isn’t until his knee slips between hers so he can position himself between her legs that she has a realization.

“Oh my god, Negan!” she yells and shoves him off her.

“What?!” he calls back in shock.

“The condom!”

“Shit, Chuck.” He drags his hand over his face as he lets out a heavy breath. “I thought something was fuckin’ wrong. I about had a heart attack.”

“Sorry. But you really would’ve had a heart attack if we remembered while you were knotting me.” She rolls over to open her nightstand, pulling out one of the omega condoms. “We’re almost out,” she comments once she sees into the box.

“Fuck. I’m gonna have to call the doctor then. And find a new fuckin’ pharmacy around here.”

After making sure that the night’s activities won’t result in any surprises in nine months, the fire between them builds back up quickly. When Chuck nudges Negan to lay on his back, he doesn’t fight it, deciding to do as she says. She crawls over over him to straddle his pelvis.

He can’t help but run his hands over her hips and up her sides. “On top, baby girl?”

“Is that okay?” she asks, his question stoking some of her insecurities that he wouldn’t want her like this.

“Fuck yes, it’s okay,” he answers enthusiastically.

With that, she wastes no time in sinking down onto him. Once he’s fully sheathed inside her, she lets out a soft moan.

“Mmm,” he responds in kind. “You feel so fuckin’ good.”

She starts up a slow pace, grinding her hips into his shallowly at first. When he starts to squirm underneath her, desperate for more, she lets out a breathy laugh.

“You’re teasing me, little girl,” he almost growls, but he lets her keep control.

After a few more moments, she finally lifts her hips, sliding herself up and down on him, though the pace is still slow. She finds that, despite wanting to draw this out, her body seems to be picking up the pace all on its own, circling her hips more quickly.

“Oh,” she moans as she moves her hands to brace herself on his chest, giving her more leverage.

“Shit,” Negan hisses as he bucks his hips up to meet hers.

As his knot starts to swell, he has to stop himself from flipping them over and pounding into her. Chuck seems to enjoy being the one in control right now, so he holds himself back to allow her to continue.

Her pace quickens and she throws her head back in pleasure. “Oh god, Negan!”

“That’s it.” He grips her hips tightly. “Cum for me, omega.”

Once he feels those first flutters in her walls, he pulls her down to envelop his fully formed knot, falling over the edge with her. After her orgasm, Chuck collapses onto Negan’s chest, still trying to catch her breath. He wraps his arms around her, holding her close.

“I love you, Negan,” she whispers into his neck.

He gently pulls her face up to kiss her deeply. “I love you, my omega.”

A few days later as Negan is lounging on the couch, he gets a text message from Aaron.

I found a 64 Honda Super Hawk. Needs a lot of work, but I’m going to buy it.

Fucken awesome. That’s a sweet bike.

We can help each other out on the builds.

Shit yea we can. Can’t wait to ride. I got Chuck a helmet so she can join us.

Is it a good one?

Of fucken course it is. I did my homework.

You be safe with her on your bike.

You think I would let her get hurt.

I guess not.

Damn right.

The mention of Chuck makes Negan realize that he hasn’t seen her in a bit. He figures she’s probably working in the office. But then again, she told him she didn’t have anything to do today.

“Chuck?” he calls out as he walks up the stairs. Before he gets to the second floor landing, he sees a quick flash of Chuck hurrying into their bedroom, her hands full with something. “What the fuck are you doing?” Once he turns the corner to enter the room, it all becomes clear.

She straightens up from where she was leaning over, fixing the plethora of blankets she has gathered from every room in the house and piled onto the bed. “I think we need to buy more bedding,” she comments, completely serious.

He laughs. “Is that so?” He walks over closer to her. “We need more than this ?”

Looking down at their completely covered bed, she has a moment of clarity. “Oh god. I think this is every blanket and pillow we own. Why did I do this?” She turns her head to Negan, seeking the answer.

“I think you’re fuckin’ nesting.”

“Nesting?” She looks down to the bed then back up. Chuck knew that most omegas go through a nesting phase when they are pregnant and some will make a nest for each heat as well. It isn’t unheard of for omegas not to nest at all, though.

“I guess now we now your heat’s fuckin’ coming,” he comments.

“I never... nested before, though. I thought I wouldn’t.”

“Maybe it’s cuz this is our space now. Instead of just yours or mine like in our fuckin’ apartments.”

“Hmm.” She fiddles with the blanket that’s balled up on the side of the bed. “Does this look alright?”

He chuckles then hugs her from behind, placing his chin on her shoulder. “It’s perfect.”

“You don’t care at all, do you?” she responds with a smirk.

“Whatever nest you make, I’ll fuckin’ love it.” He turns his head to kiss her on the cheek.

She pauses, thinking it over. “I think we need to go to the store.”

He pats her hip as he moves away, laughing under his breath. “Alright, baby girl.”

“Just one more blanket,” she assures him as they walk down the stairs. “And maybe a pillow,” she tacks on. “Like a body pillow.”

He just shakes his head, already knowing that he’s going to let her buy everything she wants, which ends up being two fleece blankets, one fluffy down comforter, and a body pillow. Sure enough, the day after Chuck gets her nest just perfect, she goes into heat.

Tags: @mypopurribitch @negans-womam @haleyea @ultrahviolent @thedeadwalks @readinginmymeadow @strangeandunusual-83

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