#and besides. is found family as sweet without a lack of real family? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

aarcanegrimm · 6 months

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14. The Dragon Valkyrie

Masterlist

Nebra Silva could have cared less about Noelle going missing some years ago... but is a nightmare all it takes for her to be knocked off her feet just like Nozel had been.

Warnings: swearing, blood, death and panic attack

Note: Someone asked about the dreams/nightmares in a previous chapter... I hope this helps- or not mwahahah

~~*~~*~~*~~

Four Years Ago

~~*~~*~~*~~

Nebra Silva has never thought she was good enough.

Nebra Silva has never been a good daughter.

Nebra Silva has never been a good sister.

She covered her failures as a Silva by looking down on anyone she could: commoners, servants, magic knights and even her baby sister… her baby sister Noelle who looked so much like their mother it hurt. From her sharp features to her determination Noelle was more like Acier than she was, so the day Noelle Silva vanished Nebra thought that it had been a blessing in disguise. She had killed their mother. Had plagued the family with her failures ever since Nozel brought her home- even their father loathed her existence.

Solid could have cared less about their sister or her vanishing from the castle- if anything the boy was more annoyed that he could no longer take his anger out on Noelle- and Nebra had never envied her sister more for disappearing without a trace because now on more than one occasion Nebra found herself with a new bruise or scratch to hide… just like Noelle did.

And then she noticed how Noelle’s nanny, Nozel’s childhood friend at that, crumbled. Cordelia wasted away from the second she found out that the youngest Silva was gone as if it was her fault and as much as Nebra wanted to comfort the woman she didn’t- she couldn’t. So she wasn’t surprised when she left the Silva residence and moved back into the arms of the Vermillion family as she had when she was younger and she wasn’t surprised by the letter now sat on her desk inviting her to a small engagement party- Cordelia was getting married… to Fuegoleon Vermillion of all people. Nebra tutted- of course she would go but… she had always thought it would be Nozel considering she had watched them smile shyly to one another, whisper sweet things to each other and then they just stopped- long before Noelle was gone.

Gone… but not dead and Nebra isn’t sure why but she knows it and has no way to convince anyone else on it because it was like everyone but those present in the castle that day remember. She sucked in a breath and turned to look out the window where Stargazer Lily’s of all colours bloomed and where Nozel sat once a week to clear his mind and ignore the fact that he too was crumbling.

Of course Nozel, her older brother, who she looked up to- who all the Silva siblings had looked up to had never stopped looking for her even when told she was most likely dead. It’s been three years and he is hardly the man he used to be. Don’t get Nebra wrong she cares deeply for him and sometimes she does miss the brat of a sister but she just doesn’t understand what about her vanishing broke him so much.

He was getting paler, bruising beneath his eyes showed his lack of sleep- if not for lack of trying. On more than one occasion she had heard him wake up screaming- on others she had heard him retching until he was in tears- but he wouldn’t get help and he wont tell Nebra anything, nor Solid or Father (who didn’t give a shit anyway). She needed to intervene.

Somehow, even as her own dreams had started feeling a little too real.

~~*~~*~~*~~*~~

Noelle stood beside Nozel, her stance protective in a way Nebra knows that she should have been doing… Nebra should be standing beside Nozel, Nebra should be standing protectively over her siblings, but here she is laying limply in her little brothers arms as her blood pools beneath her.

She can’t even really hear what’s happening anymore, she’s too focused on ignoring the pain and wishing she was fighting.

Next thing Nebra knows Nozel is shielding them in a mercury ball and the magic space is flooding… Noelle’s idea… Noelle’s magic. She’s grown tremendously in her time away from them and Nebra can’t help the overwhelming sense of jealousy… but maybe it was guilt? But why would she feel guilt for the girl who’s birth took away their mother?

Nebra isn’t sure what happened next, her mind was hazy and dull, but she could see Nozel stood over her, just barely hear as he… apologised to Noelle.

Nozel apologising sounded too good to be true regardless of the why. Nebra hadn’t expected to look up and see their baby sister’s eyes go glassy with tears, and a watery armoured dress dripping from her like a waterfall.

Gods she looked so much like their mother.

Nebra found a strength that had been slowly depleting as she tried to rise as Noelle began swaying on the spot. Any other time she would have paid to see her older brother apologise- any other time she wouldn’t have lodged compass needles further into her bleeding out body as she tried to move.

"Brother? Noelle doesn't look so good." Solid said but Nebra’s own ears were ringing and her head spinning as she tried to move from his hold.

Any other time Nebra would have revelled in seeing her sister look so weak- but the sickening crack of her knees against tiles made her wince. Nebra dreaded what she would see when she finally looked towards her baby sister- the one she has detested since her birth. Going by Nozel’s expression however, it wasn’t pretty.

“Noelle!” He’d screamed.

She could feel Solid try to bring her back into his arms, but she was just dead weight now… dead… Nebra was dying and there was no mistaking that.

No mistaking Nozel rushing towards the baby sister they neglected.

No mistaking the snap of Mercury around the Elf in the corner. She was out for good now.

The second eldest Silva whined as she forced herself to roll onto her side, the compass needle seeming to dissipate once Kivn was knocked out completely. She could feel the slick of blood under her palms as she pushed herself, forced herself to see what happened. Solid thankfully decided to help her, bring her closer to their siblings. He was as white as his hair as he did.

Of all the things Nebra thought would frighten her… never once did she think seeing her lifeless baby sister would be one. A deep wound across her stomach to her hip… she felt sick as she reached a blood-soaked hand as if, from this distance, she could grasp Noelle’s hand.

"Nozel what's happening?" She asked, and though his mouth moved she heard next to nothing.

Nebra could barely do more than whine, but she could see the shaking breaths in her little sister’s chest even with her own fading vision. She wasn’t gone just yet… but Nebra knew neither sister would be making it out of this room.

"Noelle I need you to answer me." Nozel shook Noelle, she had a far off look in her eyes as she swayed, muttering ever so quiet, too quiet for Nebra to hear.

"No. No Noelle you didn't kill her! You didn't it isn't your fault!" Nozel wanted to scream as his youngest sister's eyes slowly shut and she began to slump. Nozel moved her so she was lying down, facing the night sky. "Noelle! Please.. I need to fix this; I need to tell you the truth."

It was too late. She wasn't breathing anymore and those pezzottaite pink eyes now dull and lifeless.

"Nozel?" Solid questioned quietly. "Noelle what's wrong?"

"She isn't breathing." Nozel said, hands searching for a pulse in her neck and wrists. "I can't feel a pulse."

"Why are you panicking though? What's she done for the family? She killed mum." Solid snapped... he didn't mean it really but what else could he say he's hated Noelle since she was born but regardless...

"She didn't." Nozel said. "Mum was killed by... something else... I needed to keep Noelle safe, this was the only way... and I still failed. I failed to protect Mum, I failed to protect Nebra and now I've failed to protect Noelle again.”

Nebra didn’t understand. Solid didn’t understand. What was Nozel admitting?

Solid gave a grunt in response- he didn’t care about Noelle, but Nozel clearly did. A tear slipped down Nebra’s cheek as she took in a slow painful breath.

“You didn’t kill her Noelle… a monster did, and I couldn’t… I can’t tell anyone who or what it was… I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry all of you.”

And oh, how Nebra wished she knew all of this before. How she wished she could start again. It was too late now… the room was dark, the sounds muted and her body cold.

~~*~~

Apparently she had been in and out of consciousness for a few days now, her heart trying to give out more than once. Was it terrible that she wished it had, that she had been correct in thinking she was going to die. Even with Solid by her side and Nozel practically living in the nearby med bay bed (according to the soft chatter she heard when she did wake briefly) she felt like shit.

Noelle hadn’t killed their mother.

Noelle wasn’t a monster.

Noelle was dead.

Noelle was dead… dead… dead…

Solid spoke to her, but she couldn’t respond. Wouldn’t respond as she stared weakly at the ceiling of the private room. She felt sick, felt wretched and awful. She had watched as Solid hurt Noelle, had laughed as he did and for what? So Nozel could keep her safe in some sick and twisted way.

Nozel… Nebra dragged her eyes towards the ragged looking man who had only left the room on occasion to see the other Captains. She hated him- hated herself for what they did to their little sister- she would never be able to fix it, be able to be the sister she should have been all because of him and her own selfish anger.

“Nebra.” Nozel had placed a hand in her hair. “Awake now?”

“Where is she?” She rasped out instead.

“The Black Bulls are preparing for her funeral.” He choked on a sob as she brought her eyes back to the ceiling. She said nothing more, barely hinted that she had heard him as Solid tightened his grip on her hand.

The funeral was as dreary as it should be, Nozel knelt in the mud, rain pelting down on them all just as it had when they had mother’s funeral. She hadn’t seen him in the days leading up to this one and it wasn’t like she wanted to see him.

Nebra sat in a chair she had been half carried to not hearing a thing her brother was saying, not hearing anything the Black Bulls were saying either as she stared at the grave, dirt freshly thrown atop a now buried coffin containing her little sister… instead of herself.

She heard nothing as she was taken back to the med bay bed, nurses fretting over her getting a cold as she began getting sleepy. The kind of sleepy that will be dreamless, the kind that had the nurses begin to panic.

Nebra Silva wished she was enough.

Nebra Silva wished she was a better daughter.

Nebra Silva wished she was a better sister.

~~*~~*~~*~~

Nebra awoke with a start, like her heart had been jump started into a racing beat.

She was in her room… her room that used to be right by Noelle’s. She doesn’t remember sleeping here, she remembers being in the med room but why would they bring her here of all places- her room, the one she moved to well after Noelle had been moved to the Black Bulls was on the other side of Nozel’s further down the hallway.

But she knows this room, if she looked out the window she would see the Stargazer Lily’s… in the other she saw the forest and blue, blue skies. In this room she had decorated it with violets and whites, in the other it was blues and creams.

But… no this was her room… was, is, was, is, was… her head began to spin as images and flashes of memory struck her. She needed to see Noelle, needed to make sure she wasn’t buried beside their mother. Why? Why did she need to see that? She wasn’t buried, she wasn’t even here.

What?

Nebra rose and stumbled, her nightgown sticking to her sweat soaked skin as she nearly tripped towards the door, out the door, taking those few trembling steps towards Noelle’s room.

She pressed open the door… the smell of dust tickled at her nose, invaded her senses even though the room looked clean… and young, too young. The cupboard was open, small dresses fit for a child hanging proudly, ribbons and stuffed animals decorating the room. It was getting so stuffy in here, she couldn’t breathe.

She can’t breathe.

She can’t..

She…

She fell to the floor, heaving, trying to catch her breath as her mind and the room began to spin. Noelle, where was Noelle? She was dead- no she was gone, missing- dead… dead…

“Princess.” A voice so distant called, a voice smooth and warm- trying to ground her. “Princess Nebra, hey it’s me Thomas I’m in your squadron placed on guard duty tonight. I need you to focus on me. Please princess focus on me.”

She can’t, she can’t, she can’t.

“Tell me three things you can see.” He said.

“You, bed… floor.” She said shakily.

“Something you can feel.” He continued.

“Feel? Nothing, nothing… cold… the floor is cold.”

“Good. You’re doing so good. Something you can hear?”

“Your… your voice… my voice.”

“Now take in a deep breath, follow my breathing.” Thomas pulled her hand to his chest, taking deep breaths, holding and exhaling, holding and doing it all again.

After a few minutes she found herself leaning against the cold stone wall of Noelle’s room, still shaking but no longer… gone.

“Want to talk or would you rather I walked you back to your room and forgot this happened?”

“Had a nightmare.” She said without thinking as she finally registered the man with the honey smooth voice. Thomas O’Malley- a man with copper red hair, gold eyes and an attitude that she couldn’t help but react to every single time. “Don’t… don’t know what’s real…”

“Want to tell me what you think is and isn’t real?”

“Where’s Noelle?” She said instead and she watched as his eyes softened. Dead? Gone… where was she?

“It’s been three years, two months and nine days since Noelle went missing Nebra.”

“Missing?” She said breathlessly. He nods.

“Come on, let me take you back to your room. I won’t tell a soul I swear it.”

She only nodded, letting him guide her through the hall back to her room.

“How did you…” she trailed off.

“I was making my rounds as you started stumbling towards her room.” He said quietly. “Only I saw you… nightmares make you do weird shit- trust me I know and immediately having a panic attack wouldn’t help you.”

She nods again as he pushes open the door for her, escorting her into the room.

“I promise I won’t tell anyone.”

“Thanks.” Nebra said weakly.

“You can talk to me if you need to Princess.”

She didn’t answer this time, numbly making her way back to bed as he shut he door on his way out. She would figure this out… later… she just needed more sleep.

~~*~~*~~*~~

Sleep had been of no use.

Hadn’t been for the days, months and years following. She watched as Nozel became a different man, felt how she began to change too and Thomas had kept his promise- he told no one, never even asked how she was outside of squadron meetings… she just didn’t get it.

What was real? Noelle was gone or… was she dead?

Those questions plagued her even now- even though she knew that those nightmares… that’s all they had to be right?

It wasn’t like she could see the future… and time travel certainly didn’t exist… did it?

Nebra sniffed indignantly as she and Nozel strode towards the Captain’s balcony whilst she eyed the other Captain’s and their companions. They all had the usual vice or senior mage by their side but Yami… The Black Bull’s had some nobleman’s son, some weird looking man and a young copper haired girl who truthfully looked like she should be in the exam not with Yami. The Captain’s greeted one another, companions saying hello as well even though that young girl managed to keep well away from practically everyone (Though Leopold certainly tried his best to say hello).

She would have brushed it aside had it not been for the way Fuegoleon practically swung back around to look at the girl… who was now well out of sight… great this exam was coming up to be a fucking weird day.

#black clover #black clover angst #black clover fluff #black clover oc #noelle silva #black clover noelle #the dragon valkyrie #black clover nebra #nebra silva

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gggoldfinch · 2 years

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Cherry Kisses

Alexei “Smirnoff” x GN!Reader

A/N: Knee deep into the new season, a lovely anon suggested I repost this after having deleted it a while ago. The new characters are great and all, but I think we’re all missing sweet Alexei right about now

Warnings: gn!reader, no usage of y/n or pronouns, angst & fluff, clumsy make-out sesh, kinda spicy but not really, references to past injury/ recovery, friends to lovers

Word Count: 2,854

{AO3 Link}

Summary: Several months after saving the life of a charmingly goofy Soviet scientist who’d been left for dead at a carnival, you find yourself with a major crush. You’re afraid to act on it, lest your feelings be unrequited and your actions ruin your carefree friendship, so instead you resign yourself to suffer in silence. Fate has other plans, it seems.

Despite the occasional wince and hand pressed to his abdomen, Alexei’s healing process has come along quite nicely. Quicker than the doctors at the hospital had anticipated, too. In less than a month your new friend had bounced back, pacing bored circles in his hospital room until you'd finally caved and brought him back into the real world. You obliged only when the doctors said it was alright; you'd never seen a more thankful expression from anyone than when you'd tried your best to explain his release from the hospital.

In all your time alive, you’d never seen anyone so eager and bright and curious as he— not even the most enthusiastic of children. Everything seems shiny and new to the man, his deep brown eyes twinkling with awe at any given moment. It's honestly the most endearing thing you've ever witnessed. Anything there is to explore he's there. His particular favorite spots consist of the Arcade, the Family Video (conveniently next door to it), and the radio store down on Main Street. He always receives odd stares from the kids, teens, and irritated parents at each location, but never seems to let it phase him. In fact, you always take more offense to it than he does, carefully trailing behind him and sending them bitter glares to ward them off.

Sometimes, when you're not paying attention, his fingers intertwine with yours as he drags you to the next thing that piques his quick-to-wander interest. His warm hand in yours never fails to send the butterflies in your stomach wild.

Granted, he can’t go many places. Not on his own, at least. Especially not with Cold War tensions running high and a potential hit on his back after valiantly defecting. No— everywhere he goes you go, and vise versa. He'd even become your impromptu roommate after being discharged from the hospital. Apparently, none of his "American friends" (a group consisting solely of Murray Bauman, recluse; Joyce Byers, moved away; and Jim Hopper, recently deceased) where willing or available to take him in. That left you, the guardian angel who'd found and saved him, to look after his fugitive self. Not that either of you ever really minded not going anywhere without the other, being practically attached at the hip from the get-go. However, due to the rather difficult language barrier and lack of proper translator, communication between the two of you is still a continuous struggle. You still don't really even have the full story on what led up to the events of last Independence Day. On the bright side, though, you’ve both come a long way in understanding each other since you'd first dragged him into the hospital that fateful day. Admittedly, he’s advanced far further than you have in the language department— not that you haven’t been giving it your all, of course. It just seems to come much more easily for him.

Now, you sit together on a park bench beside the sidewalk, shaded by an oak tree overhead, people-watching the early afternoon small-town rush. A half empty lemonade cup sits beside your thigh, where drops of water bead on the sides and seep into the wood of the bench as they accumulate and trickle down. Alexei’s arm is slung casually around your shoulders, fingers absently drawing circles on your shoulder. You wonder if he realizes how intimate such a gesture is.

He stares off at the pedestrians, cheeks pinched in a small smile as he sips his cherry slurpee through its red straw. Upon hovering at his bedside for weeks, you’d quickly discovered it's his favorite beverage behind Coca-Cola. Nothing can compare the way the colored dye stains his lips bright red, making his grin all the more perfect your eyes. It is a bit of a hassle having to drive all the way out to the far-removed gas station to get him one every time, considering it's the only place nearby that has one of the machines to make the beverage, but you put up with it for the sake of his contagious jubilation.

You observe him observing the people. He'd blatantly ignored your fashion advice and chosen the most outlandish articles in the stores you'd taken him to, favoring loud patterns and bold, clashing colors. It's actually rather cute, and suits him well. His hair is a little longer than when you’d first met a few months ago, dark curls grown shaggy and even more voluminous. He’s insisted on keeping his face regularly shaven and sideburns well-groomed, though. Your fingers twitch in your lap, imagining how it would feel to run your fingers through his hair and ruffle his curls. Before you know it, you’re lost in another fantasy (a daily occurrence by now)— vividly picturing yourself clinging to him like a lover rather than a friend, holding him, touching him.

You blink back to reality when he tilts his head to look at you, stained lips pulling into a broad smile that illuminates the whole of his handsome face. His wire-frame glasses are slipped down the bridge of his narrow nose, and he swiftly pushes them back in place with his index finger to gaze at you properly. You love it when he does that.

“You enjoying your slurpee?” you ask with a chuckle, gesturing towards the mostly-empty novelty cup. He fervently nods, offering it out to you for a sip. You laugh and shake your head, gently pushing it back towards him. “You finish it, I have my lemonade.”

He shrugs, contently mutters an “Okay” and returns to peacefully watching the Hawkins residents pass by. You return to watching him, genuinely pondering what could be going on in that brilliant mind of his as he stares off.

A young couple pass by, no older than high schoolers; you'd heard them coming up from behind before you'd seen them. They giggle and mutter sweet nothings to each other as they stroll along. The girl walks with her arms hugged around the boy's waist, tucked snugly against his side under his protective arm. You can't help but feel a pang of jealousy, the pair looking joyous as can be and plainly expressing their love for each other to the world. Chancing a glance at Alexei, he seems enthralled— curiously observant of their affectionate behavior. You briefly wonder if such open affection is an uncommon sight where he's from, before turning your passive attention back to the couple. The continue to laugh with each other, the jovial sound only being broken when they move to kiss, fondly pecking each other on the lips over and over as they stroll past, giggling whenever they break.

You feel odd staring at them so you break your gaze, instead opting to tap your heels on the sidewalk concrete and stare at the cracks where plants haphazardly grow. It’s bad enough to see other couples happy, but feeling Alexei’s arm wrapped around your shoulders is a different kind a torture. You know you shouldn't feel jealous; it's your fault you fell for the man whose life you saved. The burden of your blooming feelings rests solely on your shoulders. You would never want to risk ruining your carefully crafted and nurtured friendship over something that might change your dynamic for the worse. You would never take the initiative, and never find out if your undying love for the goofy scientist is requited.

A tap on your shoulder draws you from your brooding. You perk your head up to glance at the man. His crimson-stained lips are pulled taut in that impish smile again as he tilts his head to get a better look at you. You feel blush prickling your skin the longer he silently watches you. You wait, anticipating a comment or question in that heavy and distinct (and oh, so lovely) accent of his, but it never comes. Instead he leans closer, free hand lifting to tilt your chin with fingers, chilled by the cool cup he's placed down somewhere. You’re speechless, no more than a hairsbreadth away from touching noses with the man you desire more than anything. This is the closest you’ve ever been to him, and from this perspective you can see every detail of his face up-close and personal, from the small scar hidden beneath the nose-piece of his glasses to the flecks of amber in his eyes.

Before you can fathom the events unfolding before you, he leans forward, closing the distance and planting his soft lips on yours. You can feel him smiling against your mouth. Adrenaline buzzes through every nerve and bursts like 4th of July fireworks in your head and the only thing you can think about is how strongly he tastes of sugar and cherries. The feeling is short-lived as he pulls away and releases your jaw from his gentle grip, still smiling like an idiot. When he hums gleefully and amusedly to himself and goes back to sipping his drink, the anguished realization that he may have only been fooling around hits you like a ton of bricks. Fighting the urge to smack him upside the head, you puff up in defense.

“What was that?” you bite out, adjusting yourself to sit facing him. He chuckles and shrugs, then replies in Russian. You can’t understand a word of it and only become more flustered at his complacent behavior.

“You think that was a joke?” You feel your face growing hot, both with anger and embarrassment.

You don't intend to be mean, but the abruptness of it has you wired. It didn’t feel like a playful kiss for you, nor do you want it to be in jest. It just makes your heart ache. He furrows his brows and turns to look at you, genuine confusion twisting his gentle features as he retracts his arm from around your shoulders.

“Joke? No...” he mutters, cradling the cup in his hands. His playful demeanor shifts instantly, and he hunches, shrinking under your fierce gaze.

“Why would you kiss me then?”

His confusion seems to grow exponentially and his eyes dart away. “They like each other.” He meekly gestures towards where the couple disappeared off to, “I like you. Is that... not what you do?”

His mouth is pulled into the first real frown you’ve ever seen from him. Even through grueling physical therapy and the healing process of a bullet to the liver he’d never frowned. Your heart twists at his words, and you feel like you've been shot. Had you been wrong? Is this yet another miscommunication? Blush almost as red as his beverage creeps onto his face, beginning at his ears and spreading to his cheeks and nose.

“You... like me?” you whisper, hung up on that one sentence. You could care less about the rest. The crease in his brow softens as he nods.

“дa, yes, yes,” he mutters, sheepishly shrugging and shrinking away. "I thought... это было очевиднo."

You don't quite catch the last part, but his bashful confession is enough proof for any residual distress to melt from your system. He's taken aback when you burst into an enormous smile and throw your arms around his neck, laughing with your nose pressed into the curve of his jaw. The swell of happiness in your heart is almost unbearable. This is quite possibly the happiest you've ever felt, as you delightedly pepper kisses against his full cheek. He manages to wriggle out of your latching grip and place his slushee cup down at a safe distance. He peers down at you with brows furrowed and mouth slightly ajar in what looks like a mix of shock and relief. His dark eyes twinkle with curiosity and you finally feel confident enough to slip you hand up the back of his neck, twirling your fingers around his curls. His glasses have slipped down his nose again and this time you do him the favor of pushing them back up properly.

"You... like me?" he asks, a slight pout downturning his dyed lips. You lean up to touch your forehead to his, holding him close by the back of his head. Your other hand rests on his chest.

"I have for a while," you sigh, forehead still pressed to his. "Now, kiss me again." A devilish smile spreads on your face as you bite your lip. A wave of visible relief washes over him as the tenseness in his shoulders dissipates. He giggles joyfully, gleefully obliging your request. His hands find your face and dark eyes flick to your lips— the object of his desire. You lean to meet him halfway, his cherry-flavored lips sealing against yours once more. This time it's more serious (as serious as the man could possibly be, that is), and he puts thought into the way his warm mouth moves against yours. He's gentle and tender, but he doesn't do well to hide his enthusiasm as he fervently leans against you. His hands glide from your heated cheeks to the space below your ears, thumbs brushing against your cheekbones. Your own hands remain where they are, one tangled in his heavenly hair and the other sandwiched between your chests, gripping the fabric of his garish striped button-up.

He briefly breaks and you both take gasping breaths; the corners of his eyes crinkle with a smile before he captures your lips again. He tilts his head to get a better angle at you and a light moan is drawn from your throat, muffled against his plush mouth. He just about trembles with excitement under your hands at the noise. With every extra inch he eagerly leans into you, the further you're dipped backward, clinging to him as you're nearly laid out on the bench. His left hand separates from your head to grip the back of the bench, bracing himself so as to not tip you back too far. Your senses are invaded by his intoxicating scent; the cherry sugar of his lips mixed with the warm cologne that lingers on his form makes for a heady combination. Just as your lips part to allow him entrance, the small of your back bumps and subsequently topples something. Your hazy brain racks to think what it could be, when remember—

The lemonade!

You break with a surprised gasp and twist to find your cup overturned behind you, spilled all over the sidewalk and part of the bench. Alexei peers over your shoulder, resting his chin on the slope of your neck as he surveys the mess. His large hands find your waist and you turn back to him, pouting in disappointment at having wasted the rest of your refreshment. He merely grins and goes back to kissing you, gingerly pecking your smiling lips over and over.

After a moment you hear a huff somewhere to your left, and look up to see an older woman, frowning with arms crossed as she eyes the spilled lemonade splattered across the sidewalk. Her eyes trail to you in Alexei's arms, both red-faced and staring at her. She tuts in disapproval and steps over the dark patch.

"Delinquents," she mutters with a dramatic roll of her eyes as she passes the pair of you on the bench.

There's a pause as you and Alexei watch her walk away, amused and stunned speechless, before his face pinches in a grin and laugher roars from his chest. You follow suit, crumbling into giggles at the sheer ridiculousness of the event. You hook your arm around his waist to better hide your burning face in the crook of his neck, nestling against his chest. He presses his lips to wherever he can reach—your temple, the shell of your ear, the crown of your head—whispering in his native tongue between every sugary sweet kiss.

"I still have to sleep on the couch?" he mock-innocently asks in a low, accented whisper, audibly grinning with his lips against your ear. Though you choke out a surprised laugh and swat his hard chest, you can't help but feel pleasurably enticed by the suggestion.

Your grinning lips find his jaw and give him a quick kiss before slipping out of his hold, scooping up your empty cup in the process. You throw him a playful glance over your shoulder before skipping a few steps away.

"Come on, Lexi, we still have the rest of the afternoon!" you call behind you, laughing at the sound of him scrambling to collect his own cup and follow after you. You deposit your cup in the trash bin beside the sidewalk as you pass it, lingering to wait for him to catch up.

His hand finds yours as he returns to your side, fingers lacing with yours, and you look up at him. His warm eyes watch you from behind askew glasses, sipping through the straw once more. You've never been more overjoyed. Holding his hand feels different now as he cheerfully swings your joined arms. It's real now, and your love is requited. Warmth blooms in your chest, and you've never been more thankful to have gone to that carnival and saved a dying stranger.

#I used Google translate for that one line please forgive me #reposted after a long time #mwah ily anon who requested I repost this you singlehandedly got my act together #stranger things #stranger things fic #alexei stranger things #alexei smirnoff #alexei x reader #alexei smirnoff x reader #goldfinch writes

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houseofdabs · 3 years

Note

fic idea: lester and jonesy scramble to get ingredients and find the recipe for the cake momma always used to bake the twins on their birthday. they are inept.

THIS IS SO CUTE AAA !!

warnings: slight mentions of abuse ---------------------------------------

Lester knew how his older siblings didn't really care for birthdays --at least not Bo-- it was kind of a sensitive topic as most familial holidays were for the Sinclair siblings, seeing as they lacked the proper warmth that their parents should have offered. The only semblance of affection was bestowed onto Vincent, being as he was their mother's favorite, and in turn, their father's as well. When holidays came their parents did attempt to share the sentiment with their two other kids, but it was stark in comparison to what Vincent received; it was like they were dogs receiving scraps while the real family sat at the table and enjoyed their meal. Thinking about it made Lester upset and he didn't like to dwell on it too much, he was determined to pick up the slack from his parents and reinstate the feel good emotions that holidays should have brought.

Now how was the question, and a damn good one at that. It wasn't that Lester wasn't good at planning things, he was quite good, in fact former partners always boasted about how thoughtful he was when it came to things like this. But this time was different. Sure he loved the ones that used to be in his life, but these were his brothers who he knew might not react positively to it, he didn't want to dig up any bad memories. And yeah, people liked parties and having things given to them, but when you grow up expecting that same loving hand to strike you, it's hard to cherish the good when you know terrible is right around the corner. It hurt Lester that his brother's couldn't appreciate even the smallest things, and it made him hate his parents for making it that way, but he would never mention it to the other two.

That's when he remembered his mom's old recipe book, she was a horrible mother but a damn good baker, and if he was right he'd be able to find that one caramel cake recipe she always made for his siblings on their birthday. He'd set out to get the ingredients, they were on a budget but Lester had set aside some money to get the good stuff, anything for his brothers. All he needed was some company.

Jonesy.

Pup at his feet and directions in hand, Lester sought to set everything out, he had borrowed some cook ware from the house but he'd bring it back when he was done, maybe not clean but returned. He was confident as he measured out the ingredients but with each step he followed his faith wavered. "Y'know girl, this'sa LOT harder than I had reckoned." Lester looked down as Jonesy who just stared up at him with her head tilted.

Determined, Lester continued on whisking and adding and folding till his arms were sore, his mama made it look so easy. He was so caught up in his stumbling over the batter he completely forgot about the beast that would be the icing, and just like with the batter he shook off any concerns, how hard could it be?

He set the ingredients in the pan to melt and went back to pouring the batter in the cake pan before setting it in the heated oven. Directing his attention back to the icing, he noticed it had melted all together and he checked the instructions for what to do next. "Okay girly, it says-- TWO HOURS?" His eyes bulged as he stared down at the paper, he hadn't remembered it taking that long and he didn't have the time to wait.

"Okay y'know what we're g'na do? Not that," Lester set the paper down and turned the eye up to a higher degree, "if it's hotter it'll cook faster, now ain't I smart?" He chuckled as Jonesy barked a response. "You said it sister."

Lester watched as the contents of the pot bubble as it turned a caramel color, stirring it occasionally. He decided to put on some records to help pass the time as he waited for the cake to bake. "S'too quiet," He muttered and cranked the knob to his old boombox as the voice of Merle Haggard flowed from the speakers and into the small kitchen, "there, thas better." He looked at Jonesy before patting his chest, and invitation for her to jump up and dance with him. He held the dog's paws as he swayed and sang along.

"♫ A workin' man can't get nowhere today ♫"

He grinned and stepped with the dog, "Ain't that right Jonesy girl!" Jonesy barked and Lester howled, encouraging her to make more noise. He was having such a good time with his dance partner that he forgot about the now burning icing on the stove. "Shoot!" Lester hissed and raced to stir the liquid and take it off the eye. It was a dark brown and Lester only hoped that it wasn't too bad cause he had used everything he bought and he didn't have enough to remake it. He could only hope that he didn't also mess up the cake.

Equipped with a butter knife, Lester opened the oven and stuck it in the middle of the cake before pulling it out, something he'd seen his mom do, except he didn't know what to look for. He noticed how the top was cooked and it was squishy when he pressed into it, so he pulled it out. Soon the cake was covered in the dark caramel icing and he swore at himself for lacking his mother's artistic ability, wanting to decorate the cake but deciding that he didn't want to mess it up further. He let the cake cool as he gathered everything in his truck, making sure to remember his brothers' presents.

He had gotten Bo a portable jump starter, something he had seen someone use when he was stuck on the side of the road. Lester knew the battery on Bo's truck had seen better days and he for sure didn't want his older brother stuck somewhere. And for Vincent he knew he had to get him this old brush carrier he had seen while he was browsing some antique shop, he even managed to sweet talk the lady up front to hold it for him till he could afford it. The holder was sturdy and made out of leather that had softened from years of use, on the back had flowers and leaves carved into it, nothing too 'pretty' but something artsy that he knew his brother would like. He had also snagged some whiskey while out shopping, hoping that it would help with the nerves of them all.

Once everything was packed in his truck, Jonesy included, he set off to Ambrose, careful to not hit any bumps and disturb the dessert that sat between him and the animal. He said a silent prayer as he crept towards the washed out road, hoping that no one was at Ambrose besides his brothers, that'd be a real thorn in his side and would surely ruin his plan. As he drove through the town he breathed out a sigh of relief as he noticed nothing out of the ordinary, even better that Bo was too busy in his garage to pay any attention to him as he drove by and up to the house.

Lester was careful with taking everything in, not wanting to make too much commotion in case Vincent was up in the house and not in his workshop. Finally everything was set in the kitchen, he even cleaned up a little, more in compensation for taking and making a mess of the dishes but he wanted it to look a little nicer. He was giddy and he didn't know what to do next, did he get Bo or Vincent first? He really hoped they would like it, he would understand if they didn't, but he really did want today to be good for them. He decided to put on some music to drown out the silence the house held, it always unsettled him how quiet it could get.

Soon Lester was accompanied by the sound of Johnny Cash's 'Big River' and the house felt less vacant, he knew his brother's liked different types of music but they never grew out of their taste of the old country tapes his parents had. For a second he wondered if maybe the music might throw everything off, remind them too much of ma and pa, but he pushed the thought down when he remembered how well Bo and music paired after a few drinks.

After he decided everything was ready, Lester headed off to the House of Wax first, seeing as Vincent would listen to him if he asked him to wait in the living room whereas Bo would demand to know what's going on. Jonesy pranced alongside him, her collar jingling softly as she bounced with each step. "Hey girl, you excited?" He asked as they stopped outside the House of Wax before leaning down to pet her head. Jonesy barked and her tail wagged as she basked in the affection Lester was giving her.

The two were in and out quick, Lester telling Vincent to wait for him in the living room and leaving before his brother could respond. It had been easy but he knew getting Bo to come without question would be harder. As he and Jonesy walked to the gas station he went over in his head how would ask Bo without giving away too much, did they even know it was their birthdays? Lester stopped in his tracks.

Did they even know it was their birthdays?

Surely they had to, if they did they hadn't said anything about it. It made him sad when he thought about how it meant nothing to them, but to him it was the biggest day ever, it was the day two of the most important people came to be, two people he loved so much it hurt. He'd be damned if he let his parents continue to torment his brothers from the grave, to hell with them, Lester and his brothers were better without them and he'd show them.

With new found confidence he marched to the garage where his older brother was, head ducked under a hood of some car doing god knows what. Without looking up Bo called to him, "Hand me that wrench will'ya?" He extended his hand and waited for Lester to drop the metal tool in his hand before continuing to tinker with the vehicle. After a few beats Bo addressed him again, "Wha'cha want? M'busy."

Lester wrung the hem of his shirt in his hands as his mind scrambled to find what to say, finally settling on "I need ya up at th'house, got sumn to show ya." He turned on his heel and made his way back to the family home, ignoring Bo's demands for an answer. "I guess you'll have t'come and find out I s'pose!" He hollered back at his brother.

Upon entering the house Lester saw Vincent sitting on the couch, waiting like he expected him to be. Not too long after Lester came in Bo followed, his brows furrowed in confusion as he looked at both of his brothers. "Kay what? Th'hell you drag me up here for? Wha'cha gotta show me?"

Lester motioned for them to follow as he led them to the kitchen, Jonesy racing to be in front of the brothers, evidently more excited than the three men. On arrival Bo asked again what was going on and Lester so badly wished his brother had more patience. "Well..." He had started as he glanced between his brothers and then towards the pan that sat on the kitchen table. "Happy birthday?" Automatically Bo let out and groan and Lester had to move to stop him from leaving.

"You dragged my ass all the way up'ere t'tell me that? I'on got time fer this shit, told'ya I was busy." He stared down at his little brother before watching as his twin inspected the pan, peeling back the foil to reveal a cake, or something resembling a cake-- was it a cake? The fuck Lester bring with him?

Vincent turned back to dig through a drawer, grabbing a cake cutter and some plates from a cabinet. Lester stared at his feet as he shuffled slightly, embarrassed from the rejection. "Might not be good but I made a cake, got y'all sumn too.." His voice was small as he spoke to his brother, avoiding eye contact as he lifted his gaze.

Bo's face fell from anger to neutral as he watched his baby brother fidget, obviously upset from his reaction. "Shit, what th'hell, I reckon I could use a break." He ignored how fast Lester's expression lifted and instead head towards the table where the cake laid, "This car'mel cake?" Bo's eyebrows shot up and Vincent handed him a plate, he was shocked, he didn't know Lester was able to make it. He cut him a nice sized piece with his fork and shoveled it into his mouth.

Okay maybe he got ahead of himself with assuming.

The cake was mealy and the icing was burnt, the fuck did Lester do to this poor cake?

Lester watched as Bo stood there, a bite in his mouth but now chewing. "Well.. i'shure ish a cake" Bo muttered from behind the ruined dessert, trying to not hurt his brother's feelings too bad.

"Oh." Lester felt his shoulders slump and he held back a sigh, he had really really wanted the cake to be decent, "Y'ain't gotta eat it f'is bad.." He mumbled and watched as Vincent chewed his bite very slowly. Bo was quick to swallow, spitting it out would be too rude and he didn't think he could handle his little brother being more upset from the gesture. "Tasted like shit," he laughed and raked his plate in the trash before making his way to Lester, "well, it wasn't that bad but.." he paused, "but I sure do 'preciate it.." Before he could give it a second thought, Bo engulfed his little brother in his arms for a short embrace which Lester was quick to reciprocate. After a little Bo pulled away.

"So, what was that 'bout you gettin' us sumn?"

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i didnt do much to correct any errors, its super late, hope yall enjoy it

#oooo this shit got me so soft #bo sinclair #vincent sinclair #lester sinclair #jonesy sinclair #house of wax #bo sinclair fluff #vincent sinclair fluff #lester sinclair fluff #house of wax 2005 #slasher writing #fluff #sinclair brothers #sinclair siblings #sinclair twins #houseofdabs writing #asks

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chaozsilhouette · 3 years

Text

Moonlit Musings

The night is such a perfect time to face one’s darkest truths. Shrouded in the moon’s light what can one do but admit to their flaws. It can be a time of rejuvenation and rebirth, only if you let it.

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

It was a quiet night.

The full moon hung high in the heavens accompanied by millions of stars. Not a cloud to be seen, an ideal night for passions to run wild. Normally people would be taking out their telescopes or arranging romantic picnics.

Sadly, nights like these only filled Sun Wukong with dread. It was a night like this when he was finally able to return after the Journey. That was the night he learned he had lost a precious treasure.

When he returned, he expected to be greeted by his subjects until Macaque showed himself. He expected to be strangled as the pale furred monkie admonished him for his recklessness. He expected to watch as fury transformed into tearful joy as they embraced one another for the first time in over five hundred years.

But that wasn’t what happened.

The moment he set foot back onto Flower Fruit Mountain, he sensed something was very wrong. Like his previous return trips, his subjects greeted him with loud celebrations. The new mothers showed off their infants. The young ones wasted no time climbing all over him, taking in the scent of their king.

The immortal elders, however, looked concerned.

That was when he realized Macaque’s scent on the mountain was far too faint. Even the magical signature of his clones no longer felt fresh.

Macaque was nowhere to be found. The monkeys reported Macaque had returned a few years after he stopped by the mountain earlier in the Journey but not as his usual self. He didn’t respond to any of their questions. He didn’t even take time to check in on the infants. He didn’t say a word.

He just entered the mansion, but no one saw him leave.

Entering the mansion, Wukong dashed to their room desperate for answers. Opening the doors, he saw the room was horribly empty, sure all of his belonging were exactly as he remembered them, but all of Macaque’s stuff was gone. Macaque’s closet was empty and all his books had vanished. Despite his desperate hopes, there wasn’t any signs of a struggle or hidden messages to be found.

Macaque left of his own free will, but why?

He couldn’t bring himself to sleep in the bed they shared so many nights together. Every time he dared, he awoke expect to be greeted with the comforting warmth of familiar presence, instead he opened his eyes to a cold emptiness.

The lack of answers broke his heart, but he didn’t have time to start tearing the landscape apart trying to find him. Now that he was back for good, he had so many responsibilities to catch up on. He was determined to be a good king for his subjects and that meant ughthinking things through. Plus, he wanted to spend as much time with his master and brothers as possible.

Then there was the concerning fact all his previous allies had severed their alliance with him.

Apparently after all the fuss with the Demon Bull King, word had spread that Wukong broke their alliance by disrespecting protocol and attacking the royal family. Plus, his new position as a defender of humanity annoyed more than a few respectable demons. Combined with the sheer number of powerful demons he killed on the Journey cemented the idea that having an alliance with him would only end poorly.

He was banned from court meetings and the other kings in the surrounding areas wanted nothing to do with him. The chaotic nature of his past had finally caught up to him and in the worst possible way.

He was still recognized as the Monkey King of the Sun Court but was effectively blacklisted. No one wanted to mess with him, but they also didn’t want to interact with him. Not good for his mental health to say the least.

Simians are naturally social creatures. Wukong was used to constantly being around other people and learning new things. His time imprisoned was not kind. His first year of freedom had him constantly climbing over his brothers and master just to reassure himself that this was real.

And now that he couldn’t reconnect with old faces unless it was through a battle to the death…It forced him to delve into old memories. Memories that while sweet only made the emptiness more pronounced.

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

Sun Wukong smiled as he watched Macaque’s reaction.

The six-eared monkie was furiously pinching the bridge between his eyebrows after he shattered a boulder with a careless headbutt as though it would make his life mercifully easier. “You’ll have to explain it to me again. What did you mean by ‘no longer under Yama’s jurisdiction’?”

“Exactly what I said. I was napping. Having some time to myself, when out of nowhere some idiots tried to take my soul to the afterlife.” Wukong explained as though having entities of death rip out your soul to drag it to the underworld was no big deal.

“Bet you weren’t happy.” Macaque couldn’t help but smirk at the flippant tone. He just made it so difficult to stay mad.

“Not in the slightest. I barged my way to the top brass, bunch of cowards called the Ten Kings (totally undeserved titles by the way) and demanded what the fuck was going on.” He was still ticked off even if the payoff was sweet. Seriously! Did immortality mean nothing to these cowards? They couldn’t even play it off as him dying in battle. He was in the peak of his youth! “Can you believe they tried to play it off as a misunderstanding? Should have smacked the loudmouth when I was there.”

“So, through a series of ridiculous events, you erased your name from the records of the dead.” Macaque could easily piece together the rest from there. No matter how ridiculous the odds. He learned never to bet against his friend when a problem could be handled with brute strength or intimidation. If it didn’t look like such an answer was possible, clearly, they hadn’t experienced the force of a determined Wukong. Something about facing a ticked off monkie of practically infinite strength and invulnerability left harden conquerors pissing themselves.

It was hilarious.

“Not just mine. In my infinite wisdom, I erased the names of several of the monkey inhabitants of esteemed Flower Fruit Mountain, including yours.” Wukong playfully booped Macaque’s nose.

Turning away to hide a light blush, Macaque scoffed to cover his embarrassing response. “Typical. I can’t leave you alone for five minutes without you doing something insane.”

“I know. I’m just that awesome.”

“So what? Are we now double immortal?” That was the question wasn’t it. Due to their master’s instructions, they were immortal and ageless, so what exactly would this give them? He didn’t feel any different. He couldn’t sense any new powers or changes in his instincts.

His counterpart, however, had other things on his mind. “Who cares. All I know is that those idiots have no control over our souls anymore.” And with that the King took his rightful place across Macaque’s lap as the other returned to his scrolls.

Wukong instead took the time to examine his friend, who finally gained enough confidence to fully drop his glamour and embrace his true appearance.

He still couldn’t believe Macaque actually had six ears. The weird part was how natural they looked, almost as if seeing him with only two was bizarre. The coolest part was how each pair softly glowed a different color. Blue. Purple. Red. Sometimes Wukong would just stare at them, imagining that he could see glittering stars emanating from that glow.

Suddenly those magnificent ears twitched. Macaque didn’t bother looking up from the bamboo scroll. “A trespasser...multiple, boar and vulture demon. Another hunting party”.

“Again. Ugh. Don’t these idiots ever give up!” Don’t get him wrong, Wukong loved a good fight. What better way to prove how superior you are to others than to steal what’s most precious to them? But even he was starting to grow bored with the sheer number of hunters that thought kidnapping his subjects was a quick cash grab.

After the fifth army he returned in pieces to the surrounding upstart lords, you’d think they’d take a hint.

Thankfully he wasn’t the only powerhouse on the mountain. “I haven’t tasted blood in a while. Why don’t I defend the kingdom while your highness enjoys a show?” Macaque set aside his reading material, eyes glittering with bloodlust.

Wukong returned the smirk with one of his own. “I’m always up for a good thrashing. One request: make it glorious.”

“Don’t I always.” Macaque joked as he retrieved his spear from his own shadow.

Wukong summoned his cloud and claimed a good vantage point. Once again, he marveled at his friend’s hearing. Judging by the distance it would have been at least three hours before he would have detected their presence.

Kicking back, he transformed some hair into a fruit platter and waited for the screams.

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

To this day, Wukong knew Macaque was alive. Thanks to his efforts combined with the intense training, the monkie was double immortal. Besides, that monkkie was way too stubborn to die. He would survive purely on spite if he had to.

Macaque left, but why?

While he may have effectively isolated himself, that didn’t mean he didn’t hear about the other courts. A few centuries ago, he heard rumors about the formation of a new court by someone under the title of the Macaque King. Supposedly they were a powerful monkie who knew way more than he had the right to. For a brief moment, Wukong dared to hope it was his old friend, but it didn’t last. The few recounts he caught described him with black fur. Besides, he knew how much Macaque hated the title of King. Even when Wukong offered him the position as co-ruler of his kingdom, the pale monkie adamantly refused.

Still, he was curious.

For a few weeks he could have sworn he detected a familiar scent hiding underneath Mk’s. And he wasn’t the only one who noticed. A few of the immortal monkeys questioned him on the mango infused scent and what his plans were. It was almost too much to take in.

To think he returned to teach his student instead of showing his face. It hurt just to think about it. He chose to ignore the beckoning scent until it became impossible to ignore MK’s leap in progress. Then it just vanished like it hadn’t been testing his patience. Like it hadn’t brought him to the brink of shaking the kid upside down until he confessed where his old friend was hiding. The kid probably grew wise, or someone told him to change his bathing habits, and by the next training session it was all but gone.

Dragging his hand down his face, Wukong tried to reevaluate his thoughts.

Getting mad at the kid wasn’t going to solve anything. He knew he hadn’t been the most attentive master. Hell, the whole hammer exercise at its core was a desperate attempt to remove a painful reminder of better times. His master would be disappointed in how he was running away from his problems, but would encourage him to take the steps to be better. Zhu Bajie would be a sarcastic little shit, trying to get him riled up so the monkie would prove him wrong. Sha Wujing would sit him down and wouldn’t let him leave until they talked everything through.

He had to make things right with the kid. He deserved a better master. And this New Years he was gonna get one.

He spoke, praying the winds would carry his voice to his Warrior.

“Macaque. I know it’s been a while, but…I-I want to talk. I know you’re out there, somewhere I can’t reach. I miss sparring with you. I miss lazy days napping in the shade by your side. I miss defending the mountain as we held contests to see who could take out the most trespassers before their common sense kicked in. I miss you. Please come home.”

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

The moon was high in the sky. Stars danced in the heavens as the faintest hints of vibrations pulsed through the concrete from the late-night dance clubs. MK lay awake, his mind struggling to make sense of it all.

Ever since Macaque disappeared in order to remain undetected, he kept thinking about his relationship with the Monkey King. Sure, he was being trained and he was definitely making progress. The monkie was still on his case for supposedly cheating on him with another mentor. Nothing MK said or did could make the monkie think otherwise. Thankfully, he was no longer shooting him suspicious glares, but the underlying tension remained.

The sad truth is they just weren’t that close.

He would have expected to learn more about the Monkey King on a personal and emotional level, but he just couldn’t get past that wall. Their training sessions felt more like just the Monkey King arranged just to get it over with. There was no passion at all.

Okay, perhaps that last bit was an exaggeration.

When you peered past the arrogance and pride, you found one socially awkward monkie. It was similar to Red Son the more he thought about it, both seemed to find it difficult to talk to or relate to others in a friendly setting. Sure, Monkey King projected a friendly demeanor and called him “bud”, but if he didn’t know any better he could have sworn the monkie was afraid to take that final step.

The last few sessions had taken a bit of a turn in a positive direction as Sandy would say. Maybe Monkey King decided it was time to make a change? Maybe this was all a trick so MK would lower his guard and reveal Macaque’s identity? Maybe he was just tired and should have conked out an hour ago?

Maybe.

Reality was so different from the legends. When Tang first introduced him to the Monkey stories, he was hooked. He loved listening to the tales of the infamous trickster that flipped off every major religious figure with unbridled confidence. Meeting the Great Sage in the flesh was like a dream come true until he was exposed to the King’s less pleasant tendencies.

Mk couldn’t help but wonder just how much confidence the Monkey King had in his training skills. Did he ever train someone before? Could MK talk to someone about this without appearing even more ungrateful than he already looked? Why didn’t he stop Red Son from unsealing his father when he was there? Why didn’t he simply seal the entire family when they were reunited? Why did the five times immortal sage decide that now he needed to train a disciple? Was Monkey King not telling him something important?

He had so many questions and not even the foggiest idea of where to start looking. Or perhaps he did?

The truth was he missed Macaque. The dark-furred monkie may have only taught him for a month, but the progress he made and the level of care he was exposed to made him feel as though he had finally unlocked the ability to fly.

He missed the regular grooming. He missed learning about the demon community. He missed learning new ways to mess with Red Son through appropriate court manners.

Watching the fire user freeze up at the term “honorable prince of the Iron Bull Court” just made him laugh, when his hair combusted it really matched his face. Now that he thought about it, were those horns starting to peek out of his forehead? And maybe the slightest hint of a tufted tail swiping the bottom of his coat? Seeing the demon frantically compose himself was a treat he didn’t know he needed. He still had the video saved as one of his favorites, didn’t hurt that Mei caught it at the perfect angle.

Oh yeah, he missed that.

With any luck, New Years would be the start of something better.

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

On an island that remained surrounded by unquenchable storms, a single black-furred monkie sat cross-legged in a secluded part attached to the palace. All around him fruit trees and bushes bore a hefty bounty releasing an intoxicating scent of life.

Ears twitched.

Macaque opened his eyes, aroused from his meditation. It was odd. He had the faintest sensation that someone had been talking about him. Now that wasn’t exactly unusual, he made plenty of allies and enemies across the centuries. What was odd was that the voice sounded like someone he once cherished.

But that couldn’t be right.

The deceptive silence of his personal orchard gave him no answers. Not that he really expected it to.

For some reason he refused to identify, Macaque turned to the single peach tree in the grove. A tribute from his past and a reminder of his mistakes. But it was also a valuable resource once he learned the truth about the peach’s properties. He used its powers to protect many happy relationships, if only it could have helped him so long ago.

No matter.

He still had many projects to work on, including one successor just rife with insecurities. He honestly felt bad ducking out as he did. If things were different, he would have offered him a new life. His Stars were always happy to welcome a new member into their budding community.

As a bonus, his presence would have interrupted their constant attempts to set him up with new dates. He adored their efforts but being paired with partners who only wanted power or he would view only as friends was not something he enjoyed. Although watching them mentally destroy those they didn’t find suitable for him was quite entertaining.

Either way, New Years was coming up fast and he still needed to approve a few changes. His Stars were determined to make sure this event topped last years in every way possible, but they had to make sure they didn’t set the orchard on fire again. Or worse, they could launch the fireworks into the storm barrier. He wasn’t sure why or how, but the tornadoes and clouds turned different colors as explosions rang throughout the night.

It was beautiful but lost its charm after the third day.

#lego monkie kid au #Vanishing Shadow Au #sun wukong #mk #monkie kid #six eared macaque #liu er mihou #rainbow eared macaque #crazy family #Macaque!Dad

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chaoticpuff17 · 3 years

Text

When the Chips are Down

part 12

masterlist

Y/N froze, staring at Namjoon like a cornered animal while Namjoon had her pinned down like that sharp, dark gaze that reminded her so much of a predator.

“What others, Y/N?” he growled, getting impatient with her silence.

“Namjoon…”

“What others.” he demanded, slamming a hand down on the table startling both Y/N and Moni, and yet she said nothing simply staring at him with wide, apprehensive eyes while her fingers clutched the arms of her chair, her knuckles turning white. Namjoon took a deep breath, leaning back in his seat and pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to calm himself down even though his words still came out gruff and annoyed. “What others, Y/N?”

“Don’t yell at me!” she snapped, standing up from her chair, chest heaving as she stared him down.

“What others?” he growled, returning her harsh stare.

“You don’t get to yell at me, not now.”

He sighed, taking another deep breath. Despite the tension and high emotions, he knew she was right. He had no right to yell at her about things that happened before they met, and he knew that she had been through hell before him. Yelling at her and demanding answers wasn’t going to do either of them any good. It never did.

“I shouldn’t have shouted.” his voice was softer now, an attempt on his part to be more soothing, especially as she looked like a frightened rabbit. “I need to know what others, jagi.” he took one of her shaking hands gently in his, treating her like the fragile doll she seemed like in that moment.

“Were there other pregnancies? Before?” she nodded slowly, eyeing him warily as he carefully steered her back into her chair. “When you were with Marcus, you were pregnant?” she nodded again. “Can you tell me about them, jagi?”

“There were two.” she admitted staring down at her lap, fiddling with her fingers. “The first didn’t get very far. I was only a few weeks along when I lost it.”

“And the other?” Namjoon asked, almost scared of the answer he was going to receive.

“I was five months along.” one of her arms came up to curl protectively around her belly.

Namjoon could see the way her hands were shaking, the distant almost haunted look in her eye, and it pained him. “What happened, jagi?”

“I was twenty one weeks. It was a boy” she smiled sadly “but there was so much blood, and I couldn’t get to the hospital. Marcus wouldn’t…. He left. I shouldn’t have made him angry. I knew- I knew better.” she blinked back tears, and Namjoon had to tamp down his growing rage, not towards her but towards the man who had put her through this. “By the time I got to the hospital it was too late to do anything. There wasn’t much they could have done anyway.” she shuddered at the memory. “The baby had been in distress for too long, and he came breech. There was nothing they could do. He was… he was too little, and it was too early. He couldn’t...”

Namjoon stopped her, pulling her into her arms as she trembled, gently stroking her hair as she began to cry. There was nothing he could say to make this better, nothing he could do no matter how much he wanted to.

“You gave birth?” he asked, the horrible realization, the full extent of what she must have gone through sweeping over him. She hadn’t just been pregnant. She’d given birth to a child, traumatically, and the child hadn’t survived. From the sound of it, there was nothing she could have done, nor was the loss naturally occurring. Part of him regretted asking her, for making her relive this memory, but he needed to know, and knowing what she had been through, he only loved her more. She was so unbelievably strong.

She laughed tearily, a fond but terribly sad smile passing over her features. “He was alive for about twenty minutes. I held him until he passed.”

“What was his name?”

“Noah. His name was Noah. I buried him at the little cemetery just past the bridge.”

“I’m sorry.” he whispered, gathering her into his arms again. “I’m so sorry, jagi.”

“I couldn’t… I couldn’t breath after it happened. I couldn’t look at him. That’s when I met Jackson.” she admitted a more rueful smile taking over her features. “He gave me an out, and I made them pay.”

So many things made sense now. A missing piece of the puzzle had fallen into place, and suddenly it all made sense. He’d known she was in a bad situation with Marcus. He knew she had only entered the relationship to try to provide for herself and her sister, but it never made sense why she toppled a whole criminal organization to escape. Something about it just never seemed to fit with what he knew of her, but losing a child was just the sort of catalyst that would send her down that path.

His poor sweet Y/N had been through more than he could have ever imagined, more than even he had been through, but that was part of the reason he loved her, part of the reason she was perfect for him. She had seen the same darkness he had been raised in, and yet she was nothing like the women he had known in his youth, nothing like his mother had been.

Namjoon’s memory of his mother was vague. He was only a child the last time he’d seen her, but he could remember the drugs, the bottles of alcohol. He remembered the dingy half basement they lived in, how it always smelled faintly of mold. He remembered the men- lovers, loan sharks, dealers, and none of them had anything against knocking around a scrawny kid from the bad side of town. His mother had allowed it all. Nothing mattered to her except getting her next fix. Even as a child, Namjoon had known he was meant for more. He was so much smarter than the other children, so much better, and he wanted better for himself. It seemed impossible though. What could a child do to get himself out of the gutter? And then Si-Hyuk came.

Namjoon had been only eight at the time, but he could remember that day so clearly. Si-Hyuk had come to their home looking for him and his mother. He hadn’t known that he had an uncle before that day. It had always just been him and his mother, but suddenly there was this man claiming to be his mother’s half brother. His mother was out most likely meeting her dealer or one of the loan sharks she owed money too, so it had just been Namjoon and Si-Hyuk in the apartment.

Si-Hyuk was a wealthy man, a powerful man, but he lacked one thing, an heir. He needed a son to carry on the business, but his wife had failed to provide one before her untimely death. He could have simply adopted a child, but he wanted an heir of his own blood, someone with the blood of his father and his grandfather. It was a family business, and he wanted it to stay in the family, but Si-Hyuk had no siblings, no legitimate ones anyway, but there was one woman.

His father had had a daughter with one of his mistresses. Both the woman and the child had left soon after. His father had had no use for an illegitimate daughter, but Si-Hyuk had use for her now. It was a long shot, but if there was any chance that his sister had had a son, he had to take it. So he’d gone looking for her, and lo and behold, there was indeed a son. They found the perfect solution for both of their problems within each other. Si-Hyuk wanted a son, and Namjoon wanted out of the gutter, to be away from the mess of a woman he called a mother. There was only one problem, the woman herself. She might not have cared about Namjoonj, but she was a greedy woman by nature, and if she had thought there was anything to be gained from her son, she would cling to him like a leech. Everything would have been fine if Namjoon and his uncle had been able to leave before she returned. She never would have known what had happened to her son nor would she have cared, but she had come stumbling home just as Si-Hyuk and Namjoon were preparing to leave.

Distaste was too mild of a word to describe how both Si-Hyuk and Namjoon had felt about the woman before them. She might have been a beauty once, but a life of bad habits had degraded that beauty until she was nothing but a shell of the woman she had been, rotted from the inside out. She wasn’t willing to let go of her son without ensuring a life of comfort and debauchery for herself, and Bang Si-Hyuk was not a man to be blackmailed, so he’d given young Namjoon a choice: him or his mother. Only one could live, and Namjoon was nothing if not a survivor.

“Nothing will ever… I promise nothing will ever happen to our baby. I won’t let anything happen to either of you.” He urged, holding her tight to his chest.

She was a survivor too, but she didn’t have to be anymore. He was there to take care of her now. If only he’d found her sooner, but that didn’t matter now. All that mattered was that she was here now. She was here in his arms, pregnant with his child, and nothing would happen to either of them.

“You can’t promise that.” she shook her head, pushing on his chest so she could stare up at him with those fathomless eyes of hers. “You don’t know.”

But he did know. This was his kingdom, and he made the decisions here.

“I promise you, jagiya, you will never lose another child. I won’t let that happen, not again.” she stared at him, brows furrowed in uncertainty. It was sweet in its own way. Logically, she knew there was no way for him to keep that promise. There was no real surety, but it was nice nonetheless. “As long as I’m beside you, nothing will happen.” he promised again, and she melted into his arms, too tired to fight both emotionally and physically, something Namjoon was quick to notice.

“Why don’t we go inside, jagi?” he murmured, still holding her close. “You’re tired, and you shouldn’t overdo it.”

“Okay.”

Namjoon helped her up from her chair and led her back into the house with Moni trailing at their heels. Miss In stood guard just past the door waiting for the couple to come back inside.

“We’ll take breakfast in the master bedroom. Y/N is tired and needs to rest. Another day of bed rest wouldn’t hurt.” she had a feeling that the last comment was directed more at her than it was his faithful housekeeper.

“Of course, sajangnim.”

Namjoon treated her like glass as he led her back to their room. One arm was wrapped around her waist to steady her while the other held her hand as though she was going to stumble and fall at any moment. She wasn’t, but she was grateful for the extra support. She didn’t talk about her other babies often, and each time it filled her with the same soul numbing sadness.

Soon enough breakfast was over, and Y/N had been put back to bed with Namjoon beside her, keeping her tucked protectively into his side as he put on a movie for them to watch. Apparently, he had no plans to leave her today.

As for Namjoon, he had always known that she was meant for him, ever since that first night. Everytime she challenged him, everytime he learned something new about her and her past, it only strengthened that conviction. She was perfect for him in every way. She was smart, beautiful, unbelievably strong, and she was his. They were both survivors, and what’s more, she was everything his mother wasn’t. Y/N would do anything to protect her family. She would fight for them till her last breath, sacrifice anything including herself. His mother had thrown away everything on drugs and liquor in a vain attempt to make her life better. He was happy the day she died. He’d been happy to be the one to shoot her. The world was better off without her, but the same couldn’t be said for Y/N.

She was light. She was music. She was everything, and he would tear the world to pieces for her. Anyone who hurt her, anyone who tried to take her from him would pay. Nothing was going to keep Namjoon from having his perfect family.

part 13

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wkemeup · 4 years

Text

Little Lion Man

summary: Sent on an assignment back to 1943, you encounter a drastically different version of the man you know pairing: bucky x reader warnings: time travel, a charming af 40s!bucky 😉, a sad af present!bucky 😔 a/n: I used the time travel logic from Endgame except fixed points exist. This was also written for @buckysknifecollection‘s 1k challenge! I had the song prompt of Little Lion Man by Mumford and Sons! Congrats on 1k hun!!

Weep little lion man, You're not as brave as you were at the start

You found blue eyes lighting up across the crowded courtyard, beaming smile touched on the dirt freckled glow of his face, and it startled you; stilled you right in your tracks and set a stone deep into your chest, made it hard to breathe, because that wasn’t the man you knew.

No—he wore a weightlessness about him, even as he stepped away from the crowd erupting in celebration and shied to the outskirts of the commotion, he was smiling. It wrinkled up by his eyes, left behind dimples in his cheeks, a slight shake of his head as small wisps of hair fell down to his forehead.

He didn’t seem to be counting each moment of joy on his fingers, calculating how much relief he allowed for himself before the shadows came rushing back in to take it away. He was... happy.

Dark army green was torn like rags as his shirt barely hung off his shoulder, exposing the blood and grime covering his skin beneath. Silver dog tags hung at his sternum; muted in their color, lacking the shine they once possessed, though they chimed against one another with each of his steps. He settled outside the Colonel’s tent and as he slouched to the wooden post, they fell behind his shirt. The last remaining tie to his identity nestled by his heart.

You could spot the trail of blood from his left ear, a light scruff covering his cheeks and jawline, bruising under his eyes from a lack of sleep and over exhaustion, but it was his hair that drew your attention; short, swept over his forehead and parted to the right. Its messy strands that did nothing to cover his eyes even as he dropped his chin to his chest and lit the cigarette he’d nestled between his lips.

You knew who he was, heard stories from Steve and read the articles hung in the Smithsonian; stories of what he was like in his youth, before the fall, before Hydra twisted and warped his mind and mutilated his body. And yet, none of it prepared for the laugh that echoed through the courtyard as he waved at an old friend at the center of the crowd surrounded by men who once mocked him, now lifting him on their shoulders for bringing hundreds of their men home alive.

It was him, and it wasn't.

Your Bucky.

You almost forgot why you were standing on a military base in a newly Allied Italian war front in 1943 as Bucky shook the hand of a soldier as he passed by. You recognized him from the drawings on Steve’s desk and the old faded photo album shoved into Bucky’s nightstand drawer.

Dum Dum Dugan.

He was taller than you pictured, rougher around the edges too, but he had a kind smile and a laughter that bolstered through the camp.

It was like a scene from the film clips they used to show you in school; ones of soldiers huddled around campfires in the middle of a war zone, reminding you how incredibly human these men were, that they weren’t just numbers in a fatalities list. They were real and significant in their entirety. They had hopes and dreams, fears and families.

Focus! This isn’t a field trip, you reminded yourself sharply, the words of Director Fury echoing in your head.

There was a file located in the Colonel’s office, the contents of which well above your clearance level, though it wasn’t your business to know what it contained or why Fury decided to risk sending an agent back to a war two of the Avengers’ current members barely survived. You were a part of SHIELD long before you were an Avenger, so you knew how to follow the chain of command. You didn’t ask questions.

Get the file. Get the hell home.

But you couldn’t tear your eyes away from Bucky.

He was laughing again, taking another drag of a cigarette you’d never once seen him smoke in your time as he talked with another one of the Commandos. Jim Morita, you thought. He seemed happy, relieved even, and as Jim made his way to the nurses’ tent, Bucky pushed the lighter into his pocket, pulled the cigarette from his lips with a puff of smoke, and paused.

He narrowed his eyes in your direction, a slight tilt of his head, and you realized your mistake when ocean blue caught you staring from across the open green. A smile slowly curved up broken lips and your stomach plummeted because suddenly he was jogging towards you, dog tags bouncing against his chest with every step he took and there was nowhere for you to escape.

You shoved your gun to the waistband of your pencil skirt and draped the back of your jacket to conceal it. It wouldn’t be surprising for you to be carrying a weapon, not with the uniform you wore indicating you were on rank with the likes of Peggy Carter, but it wasn’t a gun Bucky would recognize. It was from your time, one you did not ever travel without, and the technological advancements wouldn’t be easy to explain.

When Bucky reached you, he pulled to a slow stop and casually ran his fingers through the short mess of hair, pushing it back to expose his eyes, the dirt lining the creases in his forehead, and the bruising above his brow. He tugged his lower lip between his teeth as he looked you over, eyes trailing down to your shoes before returning to your face, a heavy sigh on his breath and he leaned on the wall beside you.

“Don’t think I’ve seen you around, doll,” he said and even the tone of his voice seemed different from the man you knew. Lighter, maybe. Confident. Flirtatious.

He smirked, a whistle on his tongue and he seemed a little winded as he shook his head. You wondered if he felt your connection to him, knew the depths of your care for one another before he’d even met you, but you pushed the thought aside quickly.

Wistful thinking.

“Don’t think you’ve been around for a while, Sergeant,” you replied steadily, because even though your heart was racing and your stomach was twisted to knots, you were still an agent and you knew how to manage your emotions and keep your panic hidden behind the surface.

“I guess you saw the welcome wagon, huh?” he chuckled, turning back to the crowd as they continued to gather around Steve.

It was almost as strange to see Steve from this time as it was Bucky. He had the same kind of innocence that the Bucky standing before you carried now. He hadn’t lost his best friend yet, hadn’t made the decision to trade his life for the people of New York and bury himself in the Atlantic, hadn’t missed out on a lifetime with a woman he cared so deeply for, could even grow to love.

Bucky faced you again and you saw it in his eyes, too.

It was hope, you realized. They were still holding onto it.

“Just glad you made it home safe, Sergeant Barnes,” you said evenly, trying not to focus on his left hand as it raked it through his hair. There was a scar on his palm that ran along his lifeline, red and angry and in need of treatment. There was dirt caked under his nails, in his knuckles, dried blood on his wrist, and you resisted every urge to reach out and grab it just to feel the pulse of his heart in his fingertips or maybe even the warmth of his skin.

You were used to cold and metal and you let yourself wonder what it would be like to be held by these hands, hands that were completely and entirely Bucky’s, hands that he didn’t despise and held away from you like it was something outside of himself, like it could act of its own accord and hurt the woman he wanted so desperately to touch with nothing but a tenderness he hadn’t known in decades.

“Please doll, it’s Bucky,” he requested cheekily. He waited for a response, though when he didn’t get one, he was unbothered by the silence.

He twisted the cigarette in his hand, twirling it like a baton and you were mesmerized by the way it danced through the fingertips of his left hand. It dropped ash as it flipped between his middle and index finger.

“So...” he drawled, amused by your trance, “do I have the honor of your name as well?”

You snapped your eyes away from his hand to find that smirk across his face again. It was one that felt strange to you, foreign almost, from the Bucky you knew. It was confident, charming, but there wasn’t a trace of arrogance or presumption. It was the smirk of a man who could still manage to flirt with a woman moments after returning to a camp he was captured from weeks prior. He was quite proud of himself and it read on his face.

“Y/n,” you finally admitted, watching him carefully as he repeated your name, testing it on his lips, and it still sounded like honey and silk. It seemed to be one of the few things that felt constant between these versions of Bucky; your name on his lips, in his voice, as he smiled at you. It was still as sweet.

“Y/n is a lovely name,” he said, “suiting for a lovely woman.”

Steve had mentioned this Bucky was a charmer in stories of their youth. Each time it was brought up, your Bucky would shake his head, roll his eyes, maybe even blush a little as he sank down into the couch as Steve recounted the dates he used to go on, the women he’d bring to Coney Island, the dance moves that could make any woman swoon.

You’d ask him about it, tease him as to why he didn’t take you dancing and win you comically large stuffed animals with his unparalleled marksmanship. He’d brush it off and say it was all luck of the draw but you know better than that. He was a flirt in these days and as handsome as ever, even with blood dripping from his ear and scars on his face. You couldn’t imagine a woman who would turn down a man as charming and beautiful as he was.

You wondered how much Bucky remembered of these days, if he could still recall the one-liners and the flirty comments, or if it felt distant, like he was watching something outside of himself, standing behind a glass wall and simply observing.

He was sweet with you, teased you behind closed doors and made your heart soar, but you couldn’t imagine a world where he would seek you out amongst a crowd, not knowing your name or face and flirt so openly like this.

Your Bucky retreated to corners of crowded rooms with a drink in his hand that did little to relieve him from the anxiety in his veins. He nursed a bourbon as he sought out open spaces away from the overstimulation of music, chatter, glasses on bar tops.

He was quiet, reserved, and favored whispering jokes in your ear that would have you rolling with laughter over saying them aloud for the room to hear. There was an intimacy in it and you were thankful for every glimpse he gave you past the demons who had come to obstruct his heart.

But this, this Bucky, the light-hearted charmer with a world of pain ahead of him, was not a man you ever expected to encounter firsthand.

Over his shoulder, a group of men called his name. He rolled his eyes, trying to wave them off but they only yelled louder, hollering and whistling as he tried to shield you from their teasing.

“I suppose I’m being summoned,” he grunted reluctantly.

You glanced back to his friends, Dugan, Jim, and Steve among them as they waved frantically at him. A smile etched to your cheeks, knowing that this was his element, beside Steve when he didn’t have the shadows cast over him and he could live in a moment where he just might see himself as one of the good guys.

“Yes, I suppose you are,” you smiled at him, enjoying the way his brows pinched together as he shot a glare back over in his friends’ direction before he turned back to you and let his features soften again.

“Will I see you around?” he asked, hopeful and eager, and it took you by surprise.

You didn’t know what else to say so you nodded, eyes glancing to the Colonel’s office. You had a mission to complete. It was the reason you were sent back to this timeline in the first place. It had caused enough problems when Fury assigned you; Steve arguing as to the necessity of it, Bucky leaving the room abruptly without another word. You hadn’t even been able to track him down before you left and you’d never once gone on a mission without saying goodbye to him.

You supposed that for him it may only be a few seconds, but you didn’t know how long you’d be stuck in 1943. You missed him terribly, even when he was standing right in front of you.

“I’ll find you again, then,” he said with a wink. He put the cigarette between his lips again, thought he didn’t light it, and jogged back to his friends. He paused halfway, turned back to you with a simple salute, a shake of his head like he was surprised you’d gone along with his flirting, and then, his back was to you.

Tears burned in your eyes before you felt the lump in your throat.

For a moment, it was easy to forget that he was just coming off of weeks behind enemy lines, that he already had the serum running like toxins in his veins; the same Hydra concoction that would save his life when he fell from the train a few weeks later and would allow him to survive long enough to endure decades of torture.

You knew this Bucky carried demons, that he wore a mask the way everyone else did. You knew that there were times that he smiled just long enough for someone to notice before they turned away and his eyes fell downcast to the floor. You knew that he joked and flirted and laughed because how else was a man drafted to a war he never signed up for supposed to cope with the blood on his hands.

They were different masks than the ones the Bucky you knew carried, but they still shielded the pain underneath. The masks you were familiar with were overflowing and demons seeped through the cracks and broke into his soft moments of relief. They were weathered and breaking in your time but he still tried to wear them, still tried to put on a brave face despite the monsters in his dreams and swarming in his past.

This Bucky could still hide his demons.

This Bucky, who smiled so easily, was almost nothing like the man you knew.

But he will be.

Your heart broke for the time in between.

***

Seventy-two hours. That’s how long Fury said you’d need to obtain the file. Seventy-two hours maximum. A load of bullshit that turned out to be because two weeks later you were still trapped in the heart of a world war.

You’d managed to avoid Bucky as much as possible, though that proved rather easy as he’d gone off with Steve and the rest of the Howling Commandos liberating Europe and punching Nazis. But the times in between, when they returned home and regrouped for a day or two, he’d spend his first hour at camp seeking you out while the rest of his team was catching up on sleep.

He was persistent, you’d give him that, but he was never forceful. He’d simply talk with you as you tended to the tasks assigned to the cover you were portraying. He’d lounge out on the grass while you cleaned weapons or follow you through the bunker as you alphabetized personnel files, asking you questions about your day, trying to convince you to get dinner with him at the mess hall, telling you dramatically inflated stories of his heroism on the battlefield that made your stomach ache with laughter.

You understood why Steve was so determined to help Bucky get back to how he was before Hydra. He was incredibly endearing, outgoing, witty. Your Bucky still had those things but they were in pieces, strung together with scotch tape and staples. They were muted a little, but they were still there, scratching at the surface.

It had been a few days since you saw Bucky last and you found him again as you walked right into the square of his chest on your way out of the Colonel’s office, file absent in your hand because yet another day had gone by without any sign of the document.

Hands quickly dart out to grab onto your forearms and he chuckled lightly under his breath, steadying you on heels you were entirely not used to wearing; an era appropriate necessity, Tony told you. You would have like to throw one at his head right about then.

“You alright there, sweetheart?” Bucky grinned, stepping back to give you space.

He had a few new scrapes and marks on his face, but otherwise he looked unharmed. His smile was enough to tell you he hadn’t been injured enough to require medical attention. There wasn’t a pinch in his brow indicating pain, at least.

He brushed his hands off on the thighs of his pants and judging by the mud on his boots and the rifle draped over his shoulder, he hadn’t even made it back to his tent before he came in search of you.

“Of course, Sergeant Barnes,” you replied and despite the way he was smiling so sweetly at you, teeth biting down on his lip, you swerved around him towards your own tent.

“Call me Bucky,” he reminded you, stepping aside for you to pass, though he followed your pace.

“Well, Bucky,” you said, clenching your hands, “it’s good to see you safe. You should get to the med tent, don’t you think?”

“Later,” he shrugged, waving you off, cheesy smile on his lips. “I wanted to see my best girl first.”

It punctured right to your chest and though you knew he was teasing, that he was flirting innocently and smiling when he could be giving into the harsh realities of war, it hurt. It hurt because you saw pieces of your own Bucky in him and knives embedded and broken through skin with every laugh, every smile, every word he said, because you knew how quickly it will be taken away, how hard it will be just for him to find small pieces of this and let his guard down long enough to let even Steve in again, let alone you.

There was a guilt that festered and boiled deep in your stomach, that physically ached and burned. You knew too much about his future, about the things that will happen to him that would rip that sweet smile from his face and turn him inside out, until it took decades just to find the will to live again. You could hardly look at him without tears springing to your eyes.

You thought about telling him, about warning him of what would come and maybe create a new timeline where he was free from Hydra, where he might go home from the war and see his mother and sister again, maybe meet a woman he could love and have a few kids. But then you remembered Tony’s warning, that certain events were fixed and what happened to Bucky that day on the train, would never be changed. There was too much history riding on it.

Your sweet Bucky was fated to Hydra from the start.

"There’s a dance tonight, you know.”

Your heels dug into the grass and brought you to an abrupt stop, balance wavering somewhat as you held your arms out to the side. Bucky chuckled, that smile of his so bright it was almost blinding and he quickly jogged back to you. He offered a hand and you took it just long enough to pry your heels from the dirt.

You tried not to focus on the feel of it; the callouses on his palms or the grip of his fingers, the warmth in his hand or the fact that it was made of flesh and not solid metal. You let go as soon as you were able, though he didn’t seem to take any offense.

“Just a few of the guys are going,” he continued to say, pushing his hands into his pockets. He seemed nervous as he swayed in his stance and brushed his hand through his hair. “Thought it could be fun and, well, don’t know the next time I’ll get the chance to ask a pretty girl to dance with me.”

A pink rose in his cheeks, light and flushed, and it surprised you.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Sergeant Barnes,” you said slowly, voice almost a whisper and his smile didn’t falter for even a moment.

“Bucky,” he reminded you again. So persistently charming.

“Bucky,” you repeated, “I don’t think it’s--”

“When was the last time you did somethin’ for fun, doll?” Bucky whined playfully, slumping his shoulders until you swatted him on the arm. He rubbed at it with a laugh in his voice. “I promise it’ll be a good time. You have my word.”

“I have work to attend to,” you argued, though your resolve was fading quickly. You never liked saying no to Bucky, even from your time, but it was the innocence, the hope, intertwined in shades of blue that made it that much harder.

“Come on, darlin’,” Bucky smiled sweetly at you, a crack in his lips and a bruising on his cheekbones, still as beautiful as he’s always been, “we’re shipping out to the Alps tomorrow and I don’t know when I’ll see you next. Just one dance, doll, and I swear I won’t ask you for anything else in my life.”

Your heart skipped. “The alps?”

Bucky nodded, pursing his lips. He lost his playful smile for only a minute as it melded into the solemn, determined expression of the soldier you’d seen memorials painted of alongside brick buildings in Brooklyn.

“We were able to confirm Zola’s on a Schnellzug traveling along the Danube River,” he said, quite proud. “We’re gonna bring the bastard in and put an end to this war.”

Your throat was dry, like sandpaper and dust, stones filling your chest, and you kept your features as blank as you could manage but everything inside you was on fire. He seemed so pleased, eager almost, and you felt your stomach lurch.

“Whaddya say?” he asked, a slight tremor in his voice for the first time and you turned to find him nervously chewing on his lip. “Fulfill a soldier’s dying wish?”

“Okay,” you blurted out hastily, biting down on the inside of your cheek because he didn’t know the gravity of what he just asked. You clenched your hands to fists at your side, nails digging into your palms until it stung, but you were well trained and you hid it from him before he could notice.

“I’ll pick you up at eight?” he asked, slowly backing up to his tent with the widest smile you’d ever seen on his face. It wrinkled up by his eyes and stretched into his cheeks. So light, so unburdened from horrors that had not yet warped and twisted their way through his mind and body.

“Okay,” you replied again, unable to say much of anything else for the lump in your throat was starting to choke you.

Bucky disappeared into the camp and you were left standing in the open; tears burning in your eyes, slipping down past your lashes and over your cheekbones, knowing that by this time the following day, he’d be in the hands of Hydra.

***

You located the file an hour before Bucky was meant to pick you up. It sat on the edge of your cot, watching you, because you weren’t signaling Tony that it was time for you to come home. No—you were adorning rouge to your lips and curling your hair the way you’d seen in the movies Bucky liked from his youth, the transmitter hidden in your bag under the mattress.

An emerald dress swung at your hips, one that you’d borrowed from one of the exceptionally kind nurses. She seemed to be the only one who wasn’t glaring at you from across the room for daring to take the attention of the famed Sergeant Barnes and insisted you wear it since she was on shift for the evening anyway.

You slipped into the heels, brushing down the skirt of the dress and caught one last look in the mirror. The sleeves hung off your shoulders, exposing collarbone and a faded scar along your clavicle from a mission in Brussels six months prior. Bouncing curls pinned up from your neck and bright red upon your lips, you looked like a painted model in the posters hanging in the bar hall.

You wondered how your Bucky would feel to see you like this, if it would make him happy to be reminded of his youth, or if it would bring back memories too painful to let stir to the surface.

A knock rang on the post outside and you quickly pushed the file into your bag at the end of your bed. Out of sight and out of mind, at least for the next few hours.

“You ready, doll?” Bucky called from outside the tent as you started to make your way to the exit. “Steve’s been breaking my back all day saying you weren’t gonna show and I really need to prove him wro— oh wow.”

You stepped out from behind the flap of the tent, ducking under the low hanging ceiling and Bucky’s words seemed to die on his tongue. He pulled a lip between his teeth and eyes glanced down over you; not with a hunger, but instead with a genuine kind of awe. His smile was aching on his cheeks as he tried to bite it back.

“You look stunning,” he exhaled, shaking his head. “You’ll be the envy of every dame at the dance.”

“You don’t look so bad yourself, Sergeant,” you replied.

He wore his dress greens; dark olive overcoat with golden buttons down the center, two pockets at the breast, two at his hips, golden tie around his neck and a series of military badges in bright, vibrant colors along the right side of his chest. He looked like the images you’d seen in the Smithsonian; the man he tried so desperately to emulate; the one with honor and dignity, he said.

Bucky offered you his arm, and you took it graciously. Your hand slipped around the crook of his elbow, holding onto muscle where you once only know metal, and he guided you down to the jeep at the edge of camp. There, Steve, Dugan, Morita, and a few of the other Commandos were there waiting.

Steve stood against the door of the jeep, a woman you easily recognized in a dark red dress at his side; Peggy Carter. Steve seemed surprised to see you on Bucky’s arm, but when he hung his head, he was smiling, like maybe he was pleased to lose his own bet.

Bucky grinned, nudging your side before he turned to his friend. “Pay up Rogers!”

***

People were laughing, smiling, amongst the backdrop of a war that would almost certainly take the lives of half the men in this room. It was something of beauty to witness until it started to break your heart.

You’d spent nearly an hour on the dance floor with Bucky; letting him spin you around, lead you through dances you should have known if you had grown up in this era, though he paid it no mind. He liked teaching you, liked it when you stepped on his toes and grimaced apologetically at him. He liked seeing you flustered because you were not a woman who easily blushed. He enjoyed the twinge of embarrassment in your ears when you’d bump into a couple beside you and he’d quickly yank you back to his arms in a protective cage, the light rumble of his laugh in vibrations through his chest.

“I tried to tell you I’m no good at this, Bucky,” you said after a young couple on your left sent another glare in your direction for turning the wrong way in the middle of a Charleston Stroll.

“I don’t need you to be a good dancer, doll,” he smirked, pulling you impossibly close so that your chest was flush against his, the slow sway of your bodies in contrast to the fast-paced jives surrounding you. “All I wanted was an excuse to hold you like this.”

The music faded into long, melodic notes as your breath stilled in your lungs. The chaos around you fell into gentle motions as couples hung off of one another and the world seemed to come to a stop. You expected to find a teasing grin on his face, maybe even a hint of laughter, but there was sincerity in the blue of his eyes, a slight trace of longing because he knew what he was facing the next day on a train running through the ravines of a snowy mountain.

He smiled sweetly at you, carefully slipping your hand into his and guiding your other up to his shoulder. He set his right hand at the base of your back, fingers pressing into the soft curves like the keys of a piano, just feeling, and it reminded you of how your Bucky grounded himself in the worst of his nightmares; how he’d hold onto you, grip you so tightly he’d leave marks by the mornings that would ultimately add to his guilt, though they were colors on your skin you cherished. A physical symbol of his fight towards recovery.

You found yourself doing the same as you clasped at his left hand. With every dip of the beat and every sway of his body to yours, you squeezed at his hand; feeling for the slight give in the muscle, the warmth of flesh, the hard callouses on his palm. It was so real, so him, so tangible right in front of you and you felt tears prickle in your eyes.

“What’s wrong, darlin’?” he asked quietly, noticing the trail of your gaze on his hand and the glossiness consuming your eyes.

You shook your head, brushing away the wetness on your cheeks and setting your hand back to his shoulder, though this time you curled up closer to him, focusing on the steady beat of his heart under his fingertips. “Nothing, honey.”

“’Honey’?” he repeated, chuckling a little under his breath. “You getting sweet on me, doll?”

You smiled, letting your head rest onto his shoulder, cheek brushing his collarbone. His hand started to run in smooth circles on your back, his nails traces shivering into your spine. It was something your Bucky did for you, to help ease the tension from your muscles.

“’Course not,” you replied in a breathy sigh, “I’ve got a fella, you know.”

"You don’t dance with me like you’ve got a man waiting on you,” Bucky retorted cheekily, though there was no jealousy in his voice, no resentment. He didn’t seem surprised, but he didn’t pull away either. He sighed, a heat of his breath brushing over your exposed neckline. “Tell me about him?”

You lifted your head from his shoulder, just long enough to caught sight of the tenderness with which he watched you. The corners of his lips curved up, only a little, before they fell again.

On some level, you wondered if he knew that he would never find even a semblance of normalcy in returning home from war, that he’d never settle down in the time that he knew and grow old and have children running around at his feet; that instead of showing up on his mother’s doorstep with bags in hand and a smile of relief, it would be two men dressed in uniform even he didn’t know, carrying an envelope that would break his mother’s heart.

You squeezed his left hand again, letting your right trace up along his jawline and cup the side of his face. He sighed, leaning into the touch. Clean shaven and smooth on his cheeks, decades younger.

“He’s a good man, even on his worst days,” you said tenderly. “He’s been through... so much, things that no one should ever have to experience. Anyone else might have crumbled under all that pain, but he’s still kind, still loving and impossibly sweet. He’s the best thing to ever happen to me though he argues against that most days.”

Bucky nodded, listening quietly as you continued.

“He’s handsome, like you, though his hair is longer, his shoulders a little broader with muscle,” you teased lightly and Bucky scoffed, feigning an offense, though he was smiling. “He’s quiet, different than he used to be, and there are always setbacks, always days where the pain outweighs all the good in his life, but doesn’t give into it. He’s a fighter, a survivor. He’s my best friend.”

“He take you dancing?” Bucky asked with a grin and you shook your head.

“No, not like this. Crowds aren’t easy for him.”

“He one of ours?”

A military man. He knew exactly what you were alluding to, so you nodded.

“Parts of him never came back from the war,” you confirmed, a frown pushing at your lips, “but he’s not broken. He’ll dance with me in the living room if I ask, let me hold him like this even when he feels like a stranger in his own skin. He tries, he heals. I know how hard it is for him to open up and I’m grateful for every moment he can let his walls down, if even for a second, and he shows me pieces of who he used to be, pieces of who he still is.”

A silence passed over the two of you, the music and the sight shuffling of feet around you taking over as you curled into Bucky’s side.

Bucky, but not your Bucky.

“You love him?”

Your relationship with Bucky was messy and complicated. You slept in the same bed most nights, pressed against one another to fight off the demons in his sleep, but you’d never touched him intimately, never so much as kissed his lips no matter how many times you’d wanted to. You met him in the ring and sparred until you were both aching and sweating, until you collapsed to the mat and talked for hours just staring up at the rafters. You were the first person he sought out when returning from a mission and it was his name you shouted for when you were surrounded behind enemy lines.

But there were darker forces between you; ones that kept him from letting himself open up completely, that kept him on the edge from you because Hydra was still in his mind, still convincing him he wasn’t worth the good in his life and he didn’t deserve to be treated with the affection and care with which you showed him.

Even when he kept you at a distance, he still held pieces of your heart, exposed and vulnerable in the palm of his hand.

“Yes,” you whispered, eyes darting to the collar of his shirt because you couldn’t dare to look him in the eye. You felt him squeeze at your hand, patterns on your back, and he pressed you closer to his chest; so perceptive of the heartache in your voice.

“Sounds like you might want to get home to him, huh?”

You shook your head, feeling embarrassed. “What? No, of course not. I’m-- I’m here to dance with you, right? You’re shipping out tomorrow for the alps and I—I owe you a dance, Barnes.”

Bucky chuckled. “Sweetheart, we’ve been dancing for hours. Look around, everyone’s practically gone home for the night.”

You narrowed your eyes, surprised, until you scanned the room to find that he was right; the dance floor was near empty and the staff had already begun cleaning up the refreshments table. Only the pianist remained on the stage, playing gentle melodies while his bandmates placed their instruments in their cases. He smiled at you, a short wink before he turned back to the pages of his sheet music.

Steve and Peggy were sitting by the bar, talking quietly with one another, unbothered by the lateness or the lack of party guests and the absence of alcohol beside them. Jim and Dum Dum must have hitched their own rides home because they were nowhere in sight, though a few stray men swaying on unbalances legs stumbled by the door.

“I’d say this was a pretty nice last go of it all,” Bucky sighed, a genuine smile on his face. “Zola’s not a threat physically. Can’t imagine we’ll have too much trouble bringing him in, but you never know, right? I couldn’t pass up an excuse to bring a beautiful woman to a dance.”

You bit down on your cheek until blood pooled in your mouth. You swallowed it back, tasting of copper and it burned on the way down.

“Certainly can’t blame you for that,” you replied, forcing your voice as steady as you could manage.

The pianist slowly brought the song to an end, chiming on the high end of the keys before closing the lid and stepping away. Bucky sighed, a nod the indicated that the magic of the night had ended and he moved to step away, but your hands darted out to the sides of his face.

“You’ll get through this,” you said sternly, adamantly, because he needed to hear it. The confusion read on his face though he didn’t question you. “You’re strong, Bucky. You’re brave. Please remember that.”

He narrowed his eyes, brow furrowed, though he nodded slowly.

You stepped back suddenly, letting your hands fall away from his face. It was a gesture too intimate for the man standing in front of you, one you’d done countless times for the man he’d ultimately become, and while he didn’t flinch at the touch, it surprised him. Perhaps it was the heartbreak on your face, the guilt, that confused him most.

“I--I should go,” you said quietly. “Thank you for the dance, Sergeant Barnes.”

“The pleasure was all mine, doll,” he replied, a soft smile etching up onto his features.

He was so young, so untouched by the damages that would be inflicted upon him; even after he’d already been captured and held by the same men who would break him from the inside out, he still carried a hope about him. He was different at the start of it all.

You loaded into the back of the jeep and Bucky slid in beside you. He kept his hand at his side, didn’t try to push into your space because, after all, you had someone waiting on you, but you could see the twinge in his fingertips, how he ached to hold your hand. It broke your heart.

At the end of the night, he walked you back to your tent. Hands shoved deep into his pockets and a tight smile on his face, he asked, “will I see you again?”

You thought again about telling him the truth, warning him that he wouldn’t find his way home for nearly seven decades and when he did, he’d be a changed man in a time he didn’t know. It wouldn’t change anything. Your Bucky had always gone through the horrors of what Hydra inflicted on him and what you did in this time wouldn’t affect that.

“Of course,” you replied with a smile light on your lips though you forced it into your cheeks. He sighed of relief. “I’ll be here waiting when you get back.”

“What about your man?” he inquired, a teasing grin and a raise of his eyebrow.

“Don’t tell me you don’t believe in friendship, Sergeant Barnes.”

“Whatever you’ll give me, sweetheart,” he replied, smiling so wide it much have ached, and you tried to memorize the way it wrinkled up by the blue of his eyes. You wondered if you’d ever see him smile like that again, like the very act of it didn’t rip him to pieces.

You leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek, light and short, a feather’s touch, and you watched as a light pink flushed his face. A thumb brushed along his cheekbone to rid him of the lipstick staining on his skin, but he gently pushed your hand away.

“Let me brag a little to the guys, won’t you?” he laughed. It was a sound so sweet it threatened to tear you in two.

“Goodnight, Bucky,” you said slowly, stepping back to the tent.

He sighed, shaking his head as he took one final look at you, the last one he’d know for nearly seventy years. “Goodnight, Y/n.”

***

There were still tears in your eyes as you were pulled from between the cracks of space and time to land on the platform of the Avengers’ hanger in update New York.

Tony was down on your left, adjusting the buttons and levers on a massive computer board, slamming his hand against a faulty monitor until it shifted from a grainy static to a sharp input of bright green data. Steve was rushing up to you, already starting to remove the gear from your back and help you out of the suit. The file had slipped easily from your hand into Natasha’s and she was gone from the room before you even noticed, racing it off to Fury.

"Where is he?” you choked out, lump burning in your throat.

Steve paused for a moment, eyes flickering down to the floor because he must have seen the tears in your eyes. There was no need to specify. Steve knew exactly who you were looking for.

"The training room, I think.”

“Training room?” you repeated, surprised, eyes narrowed as Steve helped you slip your arm from the sleeve of the suit.

"He’s, um, he’s not coming, Y/n.”

“He always comes,” you insisted, peering up and over Steve’s shoulder to get a better look at the door, but they were still closed shut. There wasn’t a time since you’d joined the Avengers that Bucky wasn’t the last person you saw before you left and the first person you ran to when you came home.

Steve swallowed, continuing to work on your suit. “Y/n, the—the idea of you going back there, it wasn’t easy for him. You saw how he stormed out of the debriefing when Fury assigned you to this mission."

“He’s never not been here, Steve. Why would he--”

“Well for one,” Tony piped up, eyes still glued to the computer board, “he wasn’t entirely keen on shipping you back to the time where he was walking around with a brain that had yet to be thrown in a blender and a personality with a range wider than a pet rock."

You gritted your teeth, hands clenched to fists. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” Tony shrugged, powering down the platform as Steve removed the last remaining panel from your suit, “just means that he’s probably sulking somewhere because only that idiot could be jealous of his own damn self.”

You looked to Steve who only bowed his head, lips pressed to an apologetic line, and suddenly, you took off running; sprinting across the room and shoulder shoved to the double doors at the exit. Neither Tony nor Steve were foolish enough to call after you, to believe that you’d stop for anything when it was Bucky you were running towards.

You passed by Sam in the living room, who pointed a finger to the gym, not even lifting his head from his cereal bowl. Clint waved from the couch, cheesy grin and all, before Wanda threw a pillow at him, hushing him as he tried to ask you how the mission went. It was all noise; nothing that you could hear when your focus was on Bucky.

When you made it to the gym, you found it to be empty, save for the distinct grunts in the far back corner, the slamming of fists against a sandbag, the labored breaths of a man in pain.

Bucky stood with his back to you, muscles evident under the thin layer of his navy t-shirt, sweat soaking through the fabric and clinging against him. His whole body utilized in every punch and you stood back and watched until he ultimately hit it too hard and the bag dislodged from the ceiling, falling to the ground and rolling next to two of the same. Sand poured from the hole he’d created.

Bucky groaned, brushing his hand over his forehead to rinse the sweat from his eyes. As he turned around to hang another bag, his eyes landed on you, a flinch flexing throughout his body, a catch in his breath, because it wasn’t often you could sneak up on him. He swallowed, trying to find his bearings.

“You forget something?” he asked, voice low, tired. He didn’t realize you’d already gone and come back.

“No,” you replied, trying to mask your hurt though it did little use, “did you?”

He clenched his jaw, eyes darting down to the floor as he bent to grab another sandbag from the line. There was guilt etched into his features as he hung the bag on the chain as if it weighed nothing. It was then you noticed his bare hand, how it was beaten raw and bloodied.

“Jesus, Buck,” you gasped, reaching out for his hand and for the first time in nearly a year, he pulled away from you. He held his hands close to his chest, crossing his arms when he’d realized what he’d done, having seen the hurt on your face. You stepped forward to comfort him, but he flinched away.

“Talk to me,” you pleaded, tears in your eyes because you’d just left him to face 70 years in hell and all you wanted was to hold him again. Your agony for him ached deep in your bones, but he was keeping you at a distance, walls up, protecting himself from a threat you couldn’t see. “Did I—Did I do something?”

“No,” he said quickly, sternly, because it was one of the few things he was absolutely certain of. “No, sweetheart. It’s never you. It’s never anything you’ve done.”

“Then what is it?” You took in a shaky breath, one that barely took in air for the stone lodged in your throat. He glanced up at you and winced at the tears burning in your eyes.

“You saw him, didn’t you?” he asked slowly. He swallowed. “Me. You saw—me.”

“Yes.”

“But is wasn’t me,” he said, almost in a question. “It was some parallel version of me, right? That’s why I don’t remember... not because of what Hydra did to my head?”

You nodded, taking a cautious step forward. When he didn’t retreat from you, you took another. He kept his stare on the ground by your feet; appearing small, as if he didn’t tower over you, as if the strength of his body couldn’t snap a cement brick in half. Your hands slipped into his and you felt his whole body sigh of relief as you brought them closer to you.

Even the cold metal of his left hand was a familiar comfort for you; cool and solid, tangible. It was a piece of the man you knew. His right hand was swollen, skin broken at the knuckles, raw and bleeding. You winced as you quietly examined the wounds, carefully turning his hand in yours to get a better look.

“Will you let me wrap this?” you asked gently and after a few moments, he nodded.

You led him carefully to the edge of the ring and sat him down on the raised edges; a kiss to his forehead as you backed away and you quickly grabbed the first aid kit from the latch under the ring.

Box in hand, you sat down beside him and pulled out the bandages, disinfectant wipes, and soothing gel. You set the kit on the floor and gestured for his right hand. It was quiet as you worked, applying the disinfectant and cleaning the damage he’d inflicted. You felt his gaze on you, studying you as a crease furrowed in your brow in concentration.

Several moments of silence passed before he spoke again.

“Do you see it now?”

You narrowed your eyes, confused by his sudden question. It was something he did often, let his mind wonder and spin until finally something stumbled out, whether it made much sense or not, but you were exceptionally patient with him. You sighed, gently easing the cooling gel onto his knuckles. He hissed at the sting of it.

“See what, honey?”

“Why you shouldn’t be with me.”

You closed your eyes, jaw aching from how tightly you clenched it. You could feel your lower lip trembling, tears burning in your eyes when you looked at him again.

He was better than he was when you’d first met. He didn’t wear the dark circles under his eyes in permeant stains anymore, didn’t leave grease caked into his roots, or wasted away closed off in his room without food for days at a time. But he still carried guilt in his eyes, still hung a heavy shame over his shoulders, still found himself unworthy and irredeemable, even on his best days, no matter how hard he tried to believe you otherwise.

“Bucky,” you sighed, his name aching in your voice, “why would you say such a thing?”

“You know now,” he replied flatly, like it was what he’d been waiting for, like he was so sure that his worst nightmares were already true, “you know what I was like then and how—and how broken I am now. I can’t be him, Y/n. I won’t ever be like that again and I-- I can’t give you the things he could. I won't be enou--”

“Stop, please,” you whispered, holding tightly to his hand as you wrapped the bandages. A tear slipped past your nose and fell to the white fabric along his knuckles, soaking into the cloth. “It broke my heart to see who you used to be, what you were like before Hydra, before all the pain they’d inflicted on you. You were... light and sweet and so impossibly charming.”

He clenched his jaw, eyes to the ground ahead of him as he listened, nodding along. You could tell he was preparing for the worst, like you might tell him that he was right, that this past version of himself opened your eyes to how empty he’d become, how weak and burdensome, how he was only a shell of the man he used to be and he’d never be enough for you.

His hands were shaking in your own and you swiftly lifted them to your lips and kissed at his knuckles, first upon flesh and then to the cold metal of his left. It pulled a gasp from him, an involuntary sigh of relief.

“I saw pieces of you in him, Buck. In the way he’d watch from a careful distance, how he smiled to himself when he thought no one was watching, the kindness in his eyes, the way he said my name,” you continued, letting his left hand sit on your leg so you could reach up to cup the side of his face, gently drawing his attention back to you. His eyes were red, strained, and you smiled sweetly at him. “It’s the same way I see pieces of him in you. You still tease and joke, even if it’s quieter, more intimate. You still make me feel like my hearts going to beat out of my chest when you look at me. You’re still impossibly charming, Buck. You are to me, anyway.”

He shook his head, biting down on his lip hard enough to draw blood.

“Sweetheart, you’re not broken,” you soothed, sweeping your thumb along his cheekbone. You grazed bristles of hair along his face, scruff from a few days without a razor. “You’re not less than who you were then. Just different. The things that happened to you changed you, Bucky. They’d change anyone. I don’t ever expect you to be the man you were before the fall.”

Bucky took in a shaken breath. “I thought—I thought you might prefer him. The way Steve does.”

“Oh honey,” you exhaled, pulling him into your arms, his head resting on your collar and you stroked your hand along his back to ease the tremors away as he clung to you, “Steve doesn’t--”

“He wants me to be how I was,” Bucky mumbled, his lips muffled by the sleeve of your shirt. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling himself closer. “He doesn't think I can see the disappointment on his face, but I can. I know he misses how things were.”

“Steve just worries about you, Buck,” you said gently, rubbing circles along his back. “He just wants you to be happy. He wants you to be okay.”

It was like he didn’t even hear you, so caught up in the rush of consuming thoughts in his mind, threatening to do him in.

“I’m scared you’re going to start looking at me like that.”

You sucked in a harsh breath, though you willed your voice as steady as you could manage. “Like what, sweetheart?”

“Like I’ve disappointed you,” he admitted simply, like he’d thought about it a dozen times over. “I always thought I had nowhere to go but up with you. You’d only seen me at my worst but… but now you’ve seen me then and—and I don’t know if I can take you wishin’ I was him, doll, because I’ve tried and I—I can’t and I don’t want to lose you because I think it might ki—”

“Look at me,” you requested sternly, pulling him from your embrace and guiding his eyes to you. His cheeks were red, ocean blue of his eyes wet with tears as the words died on his tongue. “I will never ask you be someone you’re not. I would never want you to.”

He shook his head against your hands. “But I’m—”

“You are the man I’ve always known you to be,” you insisted. You leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his forehead, one that you felt his breath leave him as you pulled away. His eyes were glossy but they were vibrant blue as they met yours. “You are the man I fell in love with, Bucky. You, as you are right now. Not some idealized version of who you think you should be. Not the man you were in the forties. You.”

His entire body was rigid in your arms; solid, like stone and steel, and when he finally pulled back, there was an ocean of disbelief in his eyes. Lips slightly parted, brows pinched at the center and a flush of red in his cheeks. An imprint of your sleeve was prominent along his temple as his eyes searched yours, seeking out a deception he would never find.

��You love me?” he whispered, voice barely audible, but you watched as his lips mimed the words; the way he licked at the dryness and tried to swallow back the sandpaper in his throat.

“With everything I have, honey.”

When he finally did let himself exhale again, the breath carried a world of relief in its release. A smile hung on his lips, curving up into his cheeks, and wrinkled into his eyes. A vision of a man decades younger, lighter, where the blue was brighter and the stones were lifted from his shoulders.

“You love me,” he said again, though this time it wasn’t a question but simply a statement of fact. He repeated it again, like he was engraving it into his mind, into his memories where Hydra couldn’t touch it, where it would be protected and entirely his.

“I do,” you giggled, playing with the ends of his hair. “Any chance you might--”

Lips were suddenly on yours, melded and perfectly warm, soft, eager, and you wondered why you ever thought he was any different from the man he used to be. His hands snaked up into your hair, curling delicately into your scalp as a sigh left his breath and touched your cheek. He kissed at your jawline, your cheekbones, the tip of your nose, and returned to your lips where he was wanted most.

When he finally pulled back, you let him go reluctantly, and he set his forehead to yours; the brightest smile on his face you’d ever witnessed and you were almost certain it must have ached in his cheeks from lack of use, but god, was he beautiful.

“I love you, too.”

Thank you so much for reading! ❤️ If you enjoyed this fic, please consider supporting me at my ko-fi account ✨

#buckysknifecollectionchallenge #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you

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narrators-journal · 3 years

Text

Step four

CW: Congratulations reader-chan! You’re expecting! Illumi also really cranks up the yandere side, nothing too bad, but he’s definitely not proving to be a stable man in this part.

Previous part: here

First part: here

Illumi found his mother in the family library, doing some research for a job she'd gotten. "Mother, sorry for interrupting, but I have a rather pressing dilemma with my relationship." He said, and he could see the woman perk up slightly, but she only hummed and stayed focused on her research, "Sorry dear, I can't help right now, maybe try Gotoh." She spoke casually, but he could see in her body language that she was dying to hear about her eldest son's relationship. "I was wondering if it would be inappropriate to bring her here so soon." he added, and like that her research was forgotten and she was instead offering him a seat beside her. So, he sat in the intricately carved wooden chair and filled her in on his dilemma with the concerns for your safety after finding out Hisoka knew your name, and the concern of pushing you away unnecessarily. "I don't want to put her in danger, but my research on dating says that bringing her here is something to do later on, when we've been together for more than a month." he explained, his mother digesting the information before speaking, "This is a rather delicate situation...but since Morrow is here, it should be safe to leave her where she is. Maybe set some butlers as constant bodyguards, but hold off on bringing her around here. At least until I can prepare! Oh I'd have to get the chefs to cook a special meal for when your father and I finally meet your partner, and the mansion will have to be meticulously cleaned, and the gardens tended to!" Illumi sighed as his mother rambled on a tangent about how this sort of conflict was always so romantic in the novels she'd read and how she'd have to make sure the family was perfect so as to leave the best possible impression on you. "Mother, I am being serious. I have worked with Hisoka before, he's a dangerously clever man. I don't want to risk him harming my future spouse," he reminded the woman, who savored her excitement for a moment longer before regaining her composure, "I'm sorry dear, I just get so happy when I think about my sweet baby boy finally settling down," she said somewhat wistfully, and the assassin inwardly groaned. He was the eldest of at least five, he was far from her baby anymore, but he couldn’t really remind her of that without sending her into a sobbing fit. "anyway!" she chirped, drawing him back from his blank staring and practiced way of spacing out when she took advantage of the fact she was the only Zoldyck allowed to be mushy like this, "I really do think you should leave her where she is, at least for a bit longer. Once she comes to this mountain she won't be able to leave easily, and I'd hate for your future wife to turn out to be some spy or desperate journalist." While she said it in honesty, her voice lacked any real remorse. If you did turn out to be a threat, even Kikyo wouldn't hesitate to squash you like a bug. I think out of everyone to have after (y/n), mother would be the worst. Illumi thought as he pondered his mother's words, agreeing to keep you at your home for the time being. So, for the next few weeks Illumi alternated between jobs and returning to stalking you, but until he could rein in the possessive urge to kidnap you, he kept his distance. When he couldn't watch you himself, like when he was torturing Hisoka for adding extra steps to that job, he made sure someone was still there to ensure nothing bad happened to you. Another bonus of this set up he found was that the servants he had hidden nearby to watch you were able to warn him when you started acting odd. They couldn't exactly place why you were suddenly so anxious and slightly distraught though, so the ebony-haired assassin decided to finish the job he was on quickly when he found out and return to his secondary home. About a day after he'd returned, in the late afternoon, you knocked at his door, as he was expecting. "Hello," he hummed as he opened the door to find you standing in the slightly chilly daylight fidgeting anxiously, "Um...I think we need to talk." You said, your words shooting an arrow of anxiety into his heart, Is she going to break up with me? Should I have brought her home sooner? Should I just grab her now? he asked himself, his dark, empty eyes scanning over your form to glean any information he could from your body language while he wrangled in his moment of panic, No. Invite her in, if she really is about to break up with you she'd be easier to subdue where no one can be a witness. he told himself, temporarily quelling the urge to snatch you up and refuse to let you go again and instead inviting you inside to talk out of the cool late spring air. Once inside you sat on his couch, too preoccupied with your own thoughts to mind the bit of mess in the room that Illumi was swift to sweep under the couch or toss out of sight. Your tense mood drove Illumi crazy, but he skillfully hid the fact that he was growing impatient with waiting and beginning to plan out a way to sedate you and take you home, keeping his focus on the dirty clothes he was throwing behind the chair and the garbage he was shoving into his pockets. simply sitting beside you after a while, awaiting whatever bad news you might have for him. Is she really going to try and break up with me? Damn it, I should've never let my mother talk me into this whole 'dating' thing. He thought bitterly, his own sliver of anxiety adding to the tense, heavy air you had already created. However, after an excruciatingly long stretch of time, you took a deep breath, "Illumi, I t-think I'm...pregnant." you forced out, not looking at the dead-eyed assassin as the two of you fell into another stretch of silence while Illumi processed this news. Pregnant? We've only had sex twice, is she really that fertile? He pondered, an honest smile spreading across his usually expressionless face after it set in. In a flash, he'd jumped up and scooped you up, hugging your possibly smaller body to his tightly, making you squeal, "this is wonderful news!" he said, making you smile and turn a light pink, "Oh, well if I'd known you'd be so happy about it, I wouldn't have stressed so much," you laughed awkwardly, letting Illumi hug you for a moment longer before he put you down again and cleared his throat, his face returning to his bland expression, "Though, this does put a rush on putting together a wedding." he hummed, not noticing the way your eyes widened "uh? w-wedding?" you squeaked, drawing his attention out of his thoughts and back to you. Your panicky expression was rather cute to him, you were so innocent, "Well yes, I was originally planning to take things slow, but now I can't afford to wait. Not to worry though, I'm sure my mother will help you plan it," he assured, but judging by the increasing panic in your (e/c) eyes, it didn't work, "is something wrong, (y/n)?" "I-I don't want to marry you?" You squeaked, and while your words did sting, he knew this might happen, "Well, I can't let you parent this child without me, and marriage is the perfect way to ensure I stay involved as well as that you and our child are safe from harm." He explained, but you shook your head, "Illumi, no! It's only been a-a few months since we've started dating, it's far too soon to marry!" you tried to explain, but he waved your arguments away, "dating is already a redundancy, I've been very patient in waiting this long before moving on to marriage," he explained, getting a bit annoyed at your horrified look. It was intriguing to see you get flustered and slightly scared, but marriage was not something that deserved this sort of reaction. He sighed, I can't let this continue, the stress is not good for the baby, he reminded himself before speaking again, "Please explain to me why you are so against getting married. I don't think I'm understanding your points clearly enough." For a moment, you struggled to find words, obviously confused and shocked, but he made sure to be patient, "I-Illumi, it's too soon for marriage, that's something for later on down the road, i-if we even make it that far." You tried to explain, but the assassin grimaced, so you spoke again "Plus, it's perfectly fine if we don't get married before the baby's born, we can still parent them together," Your words made his expression darken further. Finally, you sighed dejectedly, "or...I could always just termi-" Illumi cut you off by grabbing you by your shoulders, his grip tight, nearly painfully so he was sure, but he was not about to allow the entertaining of such ideas, "You will NOT harm that baby, (y/n)." he said darkly, watching tears well up in your (e/c) eyes from fear and maybe pain. That made him calm down, he had to keep his temper in check before his malicious aura was the one to harm his future wife. "If you try anything to put yourself or our baby in danger, I will be forced to keep you under strict observation." he warned, his voice not holding any room for argument when he spoke, but than he tried to relax, hugging your slightly shaking form to him again. "It'll be okay, mother will plan a good wedding and you'll be a good mother when the baby's born." he assured, running his hand through your (h/l), (h/c) hair in an attempt to calm you down and show that despite his flash of temper, the excitement of your good news still zapped through his veins. "I'll keep you safe, i promise." He could feel the shiver his words sent through you, but fear was easier to manage than defiance. After a moment though, he let you go again, "I'll have some butlers help you pack your most necessary things, tomorrow I'll take you to the estate." he decided, and when you went to argue again he gave you a cold look, "you can't say anything that will change my mind. The Zoldyck estate is the safest place for you, so go home and pack." he ordered, his tone firm enough for you to get the message. You didn't get a choice.

#yandere illumi #x reader #yandere #illumi x reader #Illumi zoldyck #hxh #fanfiction #quotev #part 11 #hunter x hunter

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the-firebender-girl · 4 years

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Fire Lord For a Day (Zuko x Reader)

-> There’s a new Fire Lord in town because Zuko lost a bet.

A few years after Zuko was crowned as the Fire Lord and ushered in a new era of peace and harmony, all is finally well between the 4 nations.

The progress of building the war-torn world back up was hard, but not impossible. Under his rule the Fire Nation work to regain its honor and clean its name, doing whatever they can to help restore what they had destroyed. And having the Avatar on his side definitely doesn’t hurt his chances too.

Besides working on the nation, he has worked hard on bettering himself, becoming a better man, someone more deserving of his title. And I think it’s safe to say that he’s well on his way there, Zuko has always been the sane one in the family, the one with a moral compass although he did get somewhat confused in the past before he found who he’s meant to be. Changing for the better is his watchword now.

That thing with Mai didn’t work out too, for the best perhaps. Although they’re compatible and have known each other since they were little, perhaps it wasn’t meant to be anything more than a simple childhood crush, but it can’t really grow past that. They crave for different things in a relationship, Mai was too emotionless, too closed-off, too cold for his taste. After living a life full of loneliness and rejection, all he needs is warmth and acceptance, a pair of welcoming arms.

Perhaps that’s why he’s immediately hooked to her. Y/N. She’s like the sunshine of his life. Her presence brings him so much joy and unconditional love. It was a chance encounter between them. Zuko was walking around the capital in disguise, watching as the world unfold and ran its course around him, how his people are living their life when he bumped into her. Nearly knocking her onto the ground, thank Agni he didn’t.

She apologized profusely when the impact caused his hood to fall back, revealing his face. She wasn’t sure of this new Fire Lord, well he did promise to be different than his ancestors but she needs actions not words. When she won’t stop repeatedly bowing even though he was clearly the one who got in her way, he frowned, and stop her mid-bow.

“You can stop doing that now, i’m okay, there’s nothing to be worried about” He said softly, assuring the poor girl.

“I’m truly sorry Fire Lord, what can I do to make it up to you?” Face still latched with worries, eyebrows tightly knitted.

“Well I still have to think about that” He pretended to contemplate it in his head, one hand positioned under his chin, “In the meantime, how about we discuss it over tea?”

“O—of course Fire Lord Zuko, anything” He can’t help but grimaced, still was not used to the title.

“Zuko please, just call me Zuko”

“Zuko...” She said, testing the name out, how he loved the sound of it.

“And what can I call you, fair lady?”

“Y/N, just Y/N”

“Okay then just Y/N, should we go now?” Zuko said, offering one of his hands for her to hold, which she took gratefully.

“By all means, lead the way Zuko” Finally letting her worries melt away, giving a way in for a smile.

———————————————————————

That was a few years ago.

Turns out that Y/N’s family is the owner of Zen Dimsum & Tea House, the most famous restaurant in the capital. Even Uncle Iroh always squeeze a visit there everytime he comes home.

“Rival only second to Jasmine Dragon itself!” That’s what he claimed.

And now she is officially his girlfriend, him asking her out was anything but romantic. Spirits know how much he lacks in the wooing department. She doesn’t seem to mind it though and said yes in a heartbeat.

She has met the Gaang on several occasions and they all love her. Even the palace servants and guards adore her too. Zuko came to the conclusion that it’s just impossible not to took a liking to her.

That’s what brought us here today. You see about a week ago Zuko had lost a bet to Y/N, and the price she asked for? being a Fire Lord for a day.

Zuko was skeptical at first of course because everything could go downhill real quick, but she assured him that she wouldn’t do anything that could put a permanent damage to his reputation, not too much anyway.

They agreed on this day for his schedule was pretty much empty, no meetings, no strategizing, no council. It’s as perfect as it can be.

Even the Gaang are here too to witness this hilarious once-in-a-blue-moon occasion. Zuko’s never known for being one to let go of the reign. But this girl somehow manages to pulled it off, oh she’s going to be the death of him for sure.

“All hail Fire Lord Y/N” Sokka said in a booming voice, as he puts the Fire Lord headpiece into her top-knot, crowning her for the day.

“All hail Fire Lord Y/N” Aang, Katara, Toph, Suki, and Ty Lee repeated back solemnly while giving an exaggerated bow.

Zuko can’t help but facepalmed himself at the scene that he’s witnessing, Fire Lord Sozin would no doubt have his head if only he were to see this.

“Ahh it feels good to be king” Y/N said, mustering her voice to be as regal as can be, but her grin definitely ruins it.

Uncle Iroh who has somehow founds himself stumbling onto this scene can’t help but let out a loud laughter.

“Now what do we have here? I must say i’m disappointed to see your reign came to an end so soon dear nephew”

Zuko lets out an exasperated groan to which everyone in the room exploded into a series of laughter, this is just too good to be true.

———————————————————————

“What will be your first decree, Your Majesty?” Sokka asked her.

The Gaang, Ty Lee, and Uncle Iroh surrounded her like an entourage, not wanting to miss out on all the fun while a grumbling Zuko trailed not too far behind them.

“Hey Iroh? do you remember when you reigned as the temporary Fire Lord?” Y/N said.

“Of course dear one, it was short but sweet, what about it?”

“I think it’s about time that we bring back what matters most to the people, I hereby declared that National Tea Appreciation Day would be permanently etched into our calendar!”

The Gaang cheer while Uncle Iroh had almost cried on spot, he shrieked happily, hugging the girl tightly.

“You are a blessing to this nation Y/N”

She smiles back at him, “Anything for you, Iroh”

“National Tea Appreciation Day it is then! Toph, mind giving me a hand on drawing the illustration for the official announcement?” Sokka said asking his poster drawing partner, just like old times in Ba Sing Se.

“You got it, boss” Toph grins back at him, giving a thumbs up.

Looking back and forth between his positively glowing uncle and the happiest the Gaang has ever been for some time, Zuko can’t help but feel the tension leaves his body.

“Maybe this won’t be so bad after all”

———————————————————————

“NO! absolutely not! you can’t change our national color to pink and peach Y/N, what do you think we are?” Zuko nearly lose his shit at this madness.

“But I think it’s brilliant, Zuko! red is sooo last centuries” Ty Lee comes to Y/N defense, sticking her tongue out to her childhood friend.

“You guys are crazy” He’s shaking his head frantically, “This nation is doomed” He dramatically said while pulling at his hair, his top-knot has hair sticking out in all directions.

“Oh knock it off, drama king. It’s just for a day! the people deserve to let loose and have some fun. You know you can always revoke it later” Y/N said, pulling her puppy dog eyes at him, lips pouting slightly.

“Please don’t do that... you’re not playing fair Y/N, you know I can’t say no to that face” Zuko grumbles, he’s trying very hard, but she got him putty in her hands.

“You know what? do what you like, it can’t get any worse than this” He said in defeat.

Oh boy if only he knew how wrong he was.

Zuko cannot recognize what he is seeing in front of his eyes. The proud Fire Nation, his nation, is now a seas of pink and peaches.

To his surprise after the announcement of Y/N’s second decree, the people responded to it giddily. They began to dress up in all sorts of pink and peach, their normal red and black outfit long forgotten. Even the usually reserved and standoffish nobles are participating in this event. Excitement buzzing in the air of the capital.

The people are rejoicing, merrily welcoming the arrival of the new ‘Fire Lord’ amidst them with the sound of cheers and clapping. Petals of flowers are thrown to the air, creating a rain of blooms in a flurry of rainbow shades. It’s nice to see them this light-hearted after living under a tyrant for soo long, the constricting rules don’t help either.

For the first time Zuko sees the people of the Fire Nation becoming one, with no clear lines separating between the nobles and the commoners, together right here and now, they are just human who longs for freedom. Freedom that Y/N just gives them, to do as one’s heart content without having to fear for their status or images.

———————————————————————

“Can we have some music over here? real music not the usual propaganda ones, I wanna hear some beat!” Y/N screamed out into the crowd that has filled the Royal Plaza.

“This one really brings the party with her doesn’t she, Sparky?” Toph said to Zuko, as together their eyes sweep over the continously growing crowd.

“Yeah... that she does” Zuko smiles fondly at his girlfriend and the way she enchants the crowd, it’s like they are gravitating towards her.

“Oh no...” Toph said again with a teasing wicked grin, she pointed her finger at him.

“You are so whipped, Sparky”

“That I am Toph, that I am...”

———————————————————————

“WOHOOOO it’s like the secret cave rave all over again!!!” Aang screamed with happiness as he crowd surf. People of all ages dancing below him.

“Aang! you get down here this instant! you’re gonna fall” Katara freaks out watching the Avatar being passed on from hands to hands. Biting her lip so hard she nearly drew blood.

“Oh let him live, Katara! loosen up, it’s a party” Suki said as she elbows her side lightly.

“Why are we just standing here? COME ON” Ty Lee said as she dragged both girls right to the middle of the crowd.

Katara’s screams of “No no no” was the last thing that can be heard before it’s swallowed by the sound of thrumming beats and off-tune singing.

———————————————————————

As the day come to an end, the party died down and people are returning to their respective home. Worn out but as happy as ever.

The Gaang is beaming, their feet light as they make their way back to the palace. Even after all of the heroic things that they had accomplished, it felt nice just to be a bunch of teenagers again.

“I’m beat you guys, i’m probably gonna sleep for the next 2 days” Aang said, pausing mid sentence to let out a yawn.

“Yup good idea, i’m gonna copy you on that” Sokka replied, entertaining the idea of just passing out on the floor right here right now, it looks so tempting. That is before Suki offers him her shoulders to lean on, shaking her head at his antics.

“Goodnight everyone” Katara said, earning back a chorus of “Goodnight” from everyone in return.

“Thanks for the awesome day Y/N” Ty Lee said as she half hugged Y/N before she too makes her way to her room.

Uncle Iroh gave Zuko and Y/N a warm smile, “Go on and rest you two, you both earned it”

“Goodnight uncle”

“Sleep well, Iroh”

———————————————————————

Back in Zuko’s bedroom, they both have cleaned up and changed into their sleepwear but decided that this is a rare moment to just enjoy each other’s presence without the usual pressure of being chased by time constraint.

“Had fun?” Zuko asked as he approaches her who is currently standing in the balcony that looks over the town below.

He wraps his arms around her as she snuggles into him, enjoying the extra warmth that he provided. Zuko leans down to press a kiss atop the crown of her head.

“I’m kinda sad that this day is over but it’s good while it lasts, I had a good run” She said while chuckling a bit at the ridiculousness of the situation. Never in a million years had she imagined this happening to her.

“You certainly made quite an impression on the people, they all adore you, not that i’m surprised it’s about time they all see you the way that I see you”

Y/N tilted her head a bit so that she can see him better, he looks handsome under the moonlight and stars, some pieces of his hair falling down lazily covering one of his eyes.

He looks at her with an intense look in his eyes, suddenly getting all serious.

“If you like it that much, it doesn’t have to end tonight you know?”

This got her letting out a scoff, “What? you’re gonna resign your position to me now?” she asked incredulously.

Zuko rolls his eyes at her, “No, you silly girl”

“How does Fire Lady sounds to you?”

Y/N swears that her heart stopped beating for a milisecond after hearing the words that just came out of her lover’s mouth.

“Are you really proposing to me right now, Fire Lord Zuko?” She said, feigning out a scandalous gasp.

“Spirits you’re dramatic aren’t you”

“You’re one to talk, Zuko”

She pretends to think about it, eyes looking upward, eyebrows scrunching creating a line in her forehead.

Now Zuko is the one who’s starting to get cold feet, what if she rejected him? what if it’s too much? too soon? how brash of him to just throw around this responsibility so carelessly. Before he can start hyperventilating, she raises her hand to cup his cheek gently, rubbing a soothing finger in a left and right motion to calm down his strung nerve.

“That sounds perfect” Sincerity evident in her voice, “I’ll be honored Zuko, if you’ll have me”

“Oh thank the spirits”

He’s in a state of euphoria, pulling her in even closer, he gently takes her face into his hands and lean down to kiss her. A slow, passionate kiss where they pour as much love as they can muster into it.

As they broke apart, Zuko takes her hand and entertwine their fingers together. Leading her back into his room and walk to the front of the vanity.

He opens one of the drawers, taking out a beautiful box decorated with carvings of dragon and fire lillies. Inside it is a gleaming piece of gold in the shape of a flame, the Fire Lady headpiece.

“May I?” He asks her.

She can only nods, emotions threatening to make her burst.

Zuko takes the headpiece and carefully inserted it into her top-knot, it sits perfectly, right where it should be.

“My Fire Lady” Zuko said as he can’t help but smile as he stares at her reflection in the mirror, leaning down to give a kiss to her cheek.

———————————————————————

The national colors went back to the normal red and black but the smiles on his people’s faces remains. Especially after hearing the official engaged-to-be-married announcement of their Fire Lord to she who has brought happiness not only to him, but to the people as well.

That day as she stood beside him from the top stair of the palace, hands waving to the cheering crowd of people below, proudly adorning the Fire Lady headpiece in her hair, Zuko thought to himself.

Yeah Uncle Iroh is never wrong, she is a blessing to this nation.

“All hail Fire Lord Zuko and Fire Lady Y/N” Uncle Iroh said, giving his salute to the new reigning monarch.

“All hail Fire Lord Zuko and Fire Lady Y/N”

———————————————————————

A/N : I’ve been very productive lately and there’s a lot more stories waiting to be finished in my draft😉 this is my second Zuko fic and as for me i’m very pleased with how it turns out but I really want to hear from you guys too soo feedbacks are definitely hoped for so that I can improve my writing♥️ anyways thank you so much for reading til the end and i’ll see you on another fic lovelies!

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dboliklover · 3 years

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Domestic Bliss

Summary: Shu Sakamaki never believed he would be a family man. You did, and continue, to prove him wrong.

Never did Sakamaki Shu believe he could feel happiness.

But, just as you always did, you proved him wrong. You always did, somehow. And though he scarcely would be inclined to admit it, he didn’t find it all that troublesome as he pretended. In fact, he found it quite pleasant - the way that you’d make up your mind and always come through. It was admirable.

And he loved you for it. At the very least, he loved you to the best of his ability. When he first met you, Shu didn’t think you would become anything remotely important to him. There were few things he cared about in this life anymore. And then you clawed your way into his heart, bloodily and greedily tearing him apart until he felt like he could no longer breathe.

Heh, how very troublesome.

His azure eyes observed as you laughed with a breath of fresh Spring air, the setting sun painted over the horizon, illuminating the world - and you - in its breath-taking pastel light. The vampiric man was haphazardly sat on a stone bench out in the garden, silently and sleepily watching with steely eyes as you danced around the multitudes of flowers which had just come back to life with the return of Spring, your hands joined with the smaller hands of your two daughters, just as gorgeous as their mother.

It was a scene out of a movie, more than anything else. Something that, had you told him he would have years ago, he would’ve rolled his eyes and huffed at the notion of Marriage. Children. Bliss.

Domestic life was something he never expected to have - it was the furthest thing from his mind until he met you and now he felt like he was living in a dream, constantly afraid he was going to wake up alone and that this beautiful life he crafted by your side would be destroyed. Fear nipped at him and he shut his eyes tightly, trying to immortalise this moment in his soul.

Shu lacked any proper example of a happy familial life - the hope for such a thing was worthless for the majority of his life. His childhood - and that of every brother - was filled with grief and sorrow.

Until you.

Everything changed - bloomed - when you found a way to get around his defences.

And now he had a family. A real family - one that he was going to protect with his dying breath. Problems arose, of course they did, nothing was ever simple in this forsaken family, but as long as he had you and the girls - he knew that it was going to be alright.

You’d make it through, somehow. Besides, he still didn’t care much for his familial drama, preferring to stay out of said problems unless they directly threatened him, his wife or children.

Wife.

Such a strange, wonderful word.

You were his wife.

It was still difficult for him to fully comprehend, despite the fact you’ve been married for several years. He’d vowed to himself, once, that he would avoid marriage - the last thing he wanted was for history to repeat itself. But with you, everything was different.

He couldn’t imagine his life without you, anymore.

Without you or your children.

You, Kasumi and Rei were his entire universe. How funny it seemed to him, that somehow you made him want to settle down, willingly. And he couldn’t imagine doing it with anyone else but you, especially as his eyes saw the way your daughters giggled with you, spinning around in the gentle evening atmosphere, seeking their mother’s and his approval as they performed this youthful dance.

“Look at me! Daddy! Look at me!”

His lips tugged up into a half-smile, eyes tiredly staring at the little girl in front of him, jumping around wildly. “I’m a ballerina!” He nodded his head once, humming in response, crossing his arms loosely. “I can dance better!” Rei whined, running in front of her sister, trying to get their father’s attention, causing a sweet laugh to leave your delicate lips.

“Come now, girls,” You spoke up, gaining both their attention, “You’re both talented dancers,” You crouched down to their level, smiling gingerly as you took their hands in yours and encouraged them both to share the metaphorical spotlight, “We’re equally proud of you.”

And as he sat there, watching the scene unfold, he couldn’t help but feel a dull ache in his unbeating chest at the notion that this - this - is how Beatrix should have acted when he and Reiji were children. If only she’d paid them both such diligent attention if only she’d encouraged a sibling love as opposed to the one-sided neglectful rivalry she unintentionally set up between them…

Things might have ended up being vastly different, then.

Maybe he and Reiji could’ve been good brothers, had that occurred. Had their mother been better.

Perhaps he should have tried harder to get through to his younger sibling, but...it felt useless to try, now.

Reiji had his stubborn opinions of him set in stone, Shu doubted he could ever change the way his brother saw him.

So why bother?

He told himself he was content just like this, in this evening garden with his real family, and yet a voice in his mind (his conscience, you’d once remarked) whispered poisons which echoed through his psyche; a reminder that even if they didn’t quite get along, his brothers - all of them - were family.

“Your mother’s right,” He finally spoke, the three most beloved girls in his life looking up at him, offering the trio a slight smile. He wasn’t the biggest on words, never had been; and you never bothered him about it, knowing he preferred physical ways of showing his affection for you. Still, he tried, for you.

Your (e/c) eyes locked with his and the look you gave him made a subtle warmth fill his being.

“We’re proud of you,” He pressed his lips together, thinking of what else to say, “More than you know.”

His praise cheered both girls up as they let go of their mother’s hands and spun around together, laughing as they tripped over and fell onto the soft green grass. “Daddy!” Katsumi cried out - not in agony nor sorrow, but with the utmost melodic sound of glee in her high-pitched voice, standing up - handing Rei a hand and showing her younger sister the kindness of helping her up.

He should have done that with Reiji.

He should have, but he didn’t.

He didn’t.

But now was not the time for useless melancholy - nothing could ruin this moment for him. He raised his eyebrow at Katsumi as Rei stood up, his eldest daughter sharing an unspoken agreement with her baby sister - they both nodded and ran up to him, giggling like tiny faeries which just discovered something remarkable.

“Dance with us!”

“Yeah! Dance with us! Please?” Suddenly, his daughters were bombarding him with their adorable pleas for him to join their evening celebration as hesitation ate away at him. He never was big on dancing, of all things; exercise wasn’t his forte, as you knew well: it was your turn to observe, standing behind the young girls, arm on your hip as your eyes glistened with mischief, wordlessly challenging him. “Hm, I don’t know-” He watched his daughters groan at his fatherly teasing. They all knew he was going to cave in; he never could refuse his girls.

“Please!” Rei exclaimed, taking his hand and trying to pull him off the bench despite it is futile. Her sister joined in, trying to drag him onto the dewy grass to no avail. “Mama!” Rei cried out, looking over at you for assistance.

“Come on, don’t make us beg,” You stated, your stare cutting into him, slowly you walked closer to him, holding out your hand to him as your daughters let him go, watching in awe as you addressed him, “You know you want to.” Your voice was playful and light as you tried your best not to chuckle, the situation lighthearted and blithe.

Shu groaned, making a spectacle of it, making it falsely seem as though he didn’t want to, but you knew better. But if more convincing was what he wanted, it was what he was going to get. The three of you - Katsumi, Rei and yourself - shared a thoughtful glance and grinned at each other, all staring up at him with shining eyes as you asserted, in the most loving voices each of you could muster, “Please?”

And that was all it took for him to crumble under and shake his head as he let out a breathy chuckle, the evening wind blowing through your hair as he took your hand, raising from his seat. “Dance with mommy! Dance with mommy!” And he did.

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siren-dragon · 3 years

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Cultural Studies -- The Cat Returns fanfic

Hello again, guess who wrote another one-shot! Anyway, this prompt came to me (along with several others, lol) so I decided to write something for it. Also, big thanks to everyone who enjoyed my first story. Also, Haru’s outfit is based on the yukata from the Love Nikki game and I may draw something for this story at a later date. Anyway, please enjoy!

AO3 story link Tagging: @mysticsoulgirl

Prompt: Summer Fireworks Festival

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Though the Sanctuary, and by extension the Cat Bureau itself, experienced many a visitor wishing for assistance with one thing or another- it wasn’t exactly a stationary place. True, anyone could follow Muta from the Crossroads and through the twists and turns of Japan’s alleys to locate the entryway arch, but that wasn’t truly the Bureau’s physical location. Anyone who was in need could find the Sanctuary entrance, all they had to do was merely look for it. So, while Baron was not unaccustomed to a variety of clients (even if the quantity seemed to have diminish over the years), it was always a study in new cultures when a guest appeared. Even when the cat figurine made a point to be open and courteous to a visitor, there were often a few things he gained new knowledge of.

“A fireworks festival? I’m afraid I’ve not heard of such a thing before.” He spoke, handing Haru a now size-appropriate cup thanks to the Bureau’s magic.

The dark brunette offered a small word of thanks and a bright smile before continuing. “Really? Oh, they’re great fun. Originally it was started as a festival for the dead; to mourn the lost one while celebrating life. But nowadays it’s just a fun activity to watch while eating festival food with friends.”

“Did I hear someone mention food?” Muta spoke, closing the front door behind him. “Hey Chicky, you bring any snacks with you today?”

From the upstairs balcony came a snort of displeasure. “You ever think of anything aside from your stomach,” Toto drawled, rolling his eyes at the cat’s one-track mind.

“What was that birdbrain?!”

“Oh, come on, think of a new insult piggy-cat!”

Before the fight could escalate anymore Haru, now a more convenient size for Baron’s home, rose from her seat on the sofa and lifted a bag where the scent of sugar and fresh fruit wafted throughout the room. “If you two are going to fight, then Baron and I will eat this by ourselves- including the mulberries I got special for you Toto.”

Both cat and crow immediately silenced themselves before tossing a glare at the other, “You got lucky, big chicken.”

“Sure thing, marshmallow.”

Baron sighed, taking out the necessary cutlery before Muta decided to forego the use of utensils. “Muta, have you experienced such festivals in the Human Realm?”

“What festivals?”

“The fireworks festival coming up this weekend,” Haru clarified as she handed Toto the collection of mulberries she brought.

It was here that the ex-con feline grinned, “oh yeah. Gotta love summer festivals in Japan with all their fried food and sweets. Best time to be a cat.”

Toto snickered, “why am I not surprised; you only think from your stomach.”

“Shut up!”

“There’s also games where you can win prizes and some shops as well. And at the end there is large fireworks show everyone watches to celebrate the summer season.” It was here that Haru’s excited smile seemed to dim slightly, “I was going to go with Hiromi, but she has a family reunion to attend. And my Mom will be out of town during that weekend- so I’ll just be watching it from my house.”

As a figurine being made out of wood, anything associated with fire was typically something Baron tried to actively avoid. And while he would deny it fervently later onto a rather smug looking Muta and Toto, the slightly disheartened expression on Haru’s face sent a rather unpleasant sensation through his chest sent nearly all thoughts of self-preservation out the window. It reminded him of their previous adventure in the Cat Kingdom; with her clad in a fine, pale-yellow gown and wearing a look of absolute despair despite it having been her so called “wedding day”. And so, it was not 2 seconds later that he found the words tumbling from his lips without any kind of second thought.

“Perhaps we can accompany you to this festival instead, Haru.”

That certainly caused the brunette to stare at him in surprise, yet a spark of joy danced within her caramel eyes. “Really? You guys would want to go with me?”

“Hey, if there’s food then you can count me in.” Muta shrugged, finishing his slice of chiffon cake.

Toto nodded, “I’m sure it’d be a great experience; what with the lack of clients to the Bureau.”

Haru beamed brightly with sheer delight, “Thank you everyone, I’m sure you all will love it!”

When Haru had finally left for the day, a definite spring in her step, Muta couldn’t help but turn a sly grin to his fellow feline. “Well, that was rather generous of you to volunteer us for something you didn’t even know about till 30 minutes ago.”

“I’m not sure what you are inquiring Muta. It was quite clear that Miss Haru was looking forward to this festival and it would be unbecoming of a gentleman to allow her to merely remain home alone and miss the event entirely.”

Toto nodded, “I have to say, I agree with Baron on this one. But I don’t think it was that difficult to persuade you after that melancholic expression crossed her face.”

Baron gave a displeased frown to his colleague’s rambunctious laughter, which did nothing to hide the slight tint of pink beneath his cream-colored fur. Honestly, since when was chivalrous behavior become a source of mockery? And yet… the sight of Haru’s joyful smile was more than worth it.

“So, are you going to wear a yukata?”

“A what?”

That answer only made the hefty white cat laugh louder.

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“Muta… are you quite sure that this garment is placed on correctly.”

“If the picture is anything to go by, then yeah. Besides; you can’t wear a suit with tails to a summer festival- you’ll stick out too much.” The large cat answered, glancing down at the newspaper advertisement in his hands before looking back to his much shorter friend. “Hmm, I think that’s right.”

“You idiot, tie for the sash is supposed to be in the back.” Toto commented, taking the advertisement with his beak to compare the image to Baron’s new attire. “See, there isn’t a giant bow in the front.”

“Okay first, it’s called an obi and second, stop butting in birdbrain!”

“I wouldn’t have to if you knew what you were doing, fluff-ball!”

Baron was going to attempt to silence their bickering before the sash about his waist loosened slightly causing the robe to flutter open and expose part of his chest and collarbone before the ginger feline took hold of the garment’s sides and quickly held them closed. He briefly wondered if it would perhaps be better to merely wear his typical suit before a knock sounded on the door- halting Muta and Toto’s argument. The crow quickly flew toward the door and swiftly opened the door to reveal Haru. She too was clad in a traditional yukata of navy blue with ivory and cream-colored stars swirling around a crescent moon at the hem of the dress before continuing upward. The sash wrapped around her waist took on a pale blue color while the right sleeve of her dress shifted colors; with the stars now dark and the fabric white shade. Though her hair was cut short, it was still pinned back by a blue, yellow, and orange silk flower with the latter two colors matching the shade of his own fur. To be perfectly honest, she looked quite breath-taking.

“Baron are you wearing a yukata?” She grinned, noticing his change of attire immediately which only made the statuette cling to the folds of the loosened robe all the more tightly. “I didn’t even know you had one!”

“Well, Muta saw fit to inform me this is the traditional attire for a summer festival so it is a recent addition to my wardrobe. However, I seem to be having a bit of trouble actually dressing.” He answered, unable to prevent the sigh from leaving his lips at his current dishevelment.

Haru giggled, placing her small bag on the sofa before approaching him. “Don’t worry, it’s always challenging for a first-timer. Here, you just need a little bit of adjusting…”

Despite his attempt to remain calm at the innocent offer, Baron couldn’t help the heat rushing to his face as Haru approached and began shifting the obi about his waist he had attempted to tie on earlier. He still kept his hand clenched about the folds of the yukata as Haru expertly straightened the robe, to which he gave her a very grateful smile. Soon he was now properly clothed, even wearing the haori properly before Haru stepped back to admire her handy work (though Baron felt a slight twinge of disappointment at her shift away from him). “There we go, a perfect fit.”

“Thank you, Haru. And may I say, you look lovely as well.”

She beamed at his reply as she moved to retrieve her bag. “Thanks Baron. But if you wanted to wear a yukata, I could have helped you find one.”

Muta shook his head, “that would have ruined the surprise Chicky. Plus, nothing was more amusing than watching Baron try to put it on.”

“As always, your assistance is greatly appreciated Muta.” Baron replied dryly, remembering the past hour where both his friends tried to guide him in how to wear the clothes.

As they walked through the archway of the Sanctuary, Muta walked ahead of them now on all fours while Toto took to the skies. However, as soon as Baron exited alongside Haru, he grew till he was once more a head taller than the dark-haired young woman instead of a foot-tall figurine. But the fact that his feline appearance remained gave Haru pause- knowing most would not really take the appearance of a half-cat man kindly (even if people believed it to be a ridiculously realistic mask). But it seemed her thoughts were rather evident on her face, because Baron was quick to assuage her fears. “Do not worry Haru, there is a spell in place masking my real appearance. You are the only one who can see the truth.”

“I didn’t know you can use such spells, Baron.” She asked curiously.

He nodded, offering his arm to her which she gladly accepted. “Yes, though I am afraid they are only temporary. But I thought this would make our evening engagement far more enjoyable without any disturbances from bewildered onlookers.”

“It’s no trouble at all, actually I think it’s a good idea. It does make me curious as to how your disguise looks.”

Baron paused and gestured to the glass window of a shop they were walking past, “see for yourself.”

Turning to the window, Haru looked at Baron’s reflection nearly jumped in alarm upon not seeing the familiar feline characteristics she had come to cherish. Instead, the face of a young man who looked a few years older than herself gazed back at her from the reflection. His hair was a light tawny blonde the same shade as Baron’s fur, perfectly coiffed to suit the Creation’s usual debonair attire. Where once fur and whiskers existed was now fair skin and a rather amused smile taking in her slightly bewildered expression. Yet despite the disguise, Haru took comfort in the fact that Baron’s eyes were still the same shade of mint-green.

“That is rather impressive, if a bit shocking at first.” She laughed a little nervously.

Baron frowned, “does it bother you too much?”

“No, it’s not that,” she answered with a shake of her head before beaming up at him. “I just prefer you the way you are, that’s all.”

It was the second time in the past few days that Baron found his words failing him once again at her kind, yet honest words.

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Perhaps the first thing that caught Baron’s attention were the vibrant banners illuminated by dozens of lights and lanterns. The street was lined with colorful booths, each hosting a different attraction as friends and families traveled back and forth to every single one. It was a rather jarring change from the peace and quiet of the Cat Bureau, but as he glanced down at the excited grin on Haru’s face as she enthusiastically explained each booth’s function, Baron couldn’t help the pleased smile drifting across his face. “So then, what would you recommend we do first?”

“Food, I’m starving!” Muta cried from about their legs before he bolted down the street, causing several people to laugh at the rather large cat obviously following the scent of frying food. “Takoyaki, here I come!”

Haru laughed, “well, food always is a good choice. Though we’d best pace ourselves, festival food is great, but not exactly healthy.”

“Then I shall follow your lead, Haru.” Baron added, glancing around briefly with a bit of confusion drifting across his face, “I must admit, I thought a fireworks festival would have more of that particular attraction.”

“That happens at the end of the night, mainly because it’ll be darker and it’ll give us a chance to see most of the booths before we have to find seats to watch the fireworks. But we’d best find Muta before he manages to pilfer too many snacks.”

Baron chuckled, “I think it’s more of his charming attitude that wins him such favors.”

Haru couldn’t help but laugh at that, and judging from the faint cawing above their heads, Toto heard it as well. “Well, we’d best hurry before that charm gets a bit carried away.”

The couple soon found their way further into the festival and managed to find Muta, who looked rather smug at having charmed a piece of taiyaki from a group of teenage girls. True to her word, Haru managed to procure a few treats for them all to try, ranging from takoyaki to kakigori to some onigiri before they walked to where Toto waited upon a nearby but isolated tree. Muta had nearly claimed all of the takoyaki while Toto took a liking to the plain onigiri and the roasted chestnuts Baron was eating. Though Baron was not overly found of the deep-fried food, he couldn’t deny that the kakigori Haru offered was quite delicious.

As the sun soon sank below the horizon and the sky turned dark with the coming night, many people started moving away from the bright lights of the festival stalls to await the oncoming fireworks display. “We don’t really want to be too close to all the larger crowds, so we’ll stay on the outskirts instead.” Haru informed them, taking a seat beside the grass. “And I wanted to thank you guys again, for coming with me.”

“Nonsense Haru, this was most enjoyable and we were happy to accompany you.”

“Even though you had to forgo your suit?” She replied with a teasing grin.

Baron gave a slightly sheepish look, “I will admit that dressing did pose quite the challenge, but well worth the effort.”

“Even still, thank you for being such a good sport about it. And I’m glad you had a good time.” Haru chimed happily, turning to look at the ever-growing groups awaiting the final event of the festival. “Hopefully we’ll be able to see everything with so many people…”

“Well, we merely need a seat with a view; and I believe I may have a solution.”

“What do you mean by that?”

The ginger gentle-cat only offered her a hand with a secret smile, “Just trust me.”

At the familiar words, Haru rested her hand upon his and watched as the world around them seemed to stretch upward as her height plummeted to its usual size whenever she visited the Bureau. Toto then landed beside them, offering a place upon his back with Baron holding on tightly the Stone Creations black feathers and Haru wrapping her arms about his waist. Once they were situated on the now gigantic crow, Toto rose high into the air (though not before snatching Muta in his claws much to the large cat’s displeasure while muttering something that sounded like “always a showoff.”) before gliding through the evening sky.

They were only flying for a few minutes before a high-pitched whistle sounded only to be followed by a large explosion of white and gold lights as the fireworks show began. Haru watched in silent amazement as they soared the atmosphere as each of the colorful illuminations danced around them like falling stars. She a joyful laugh at sheer sight of the fireworks show from a literal bird’s eye perspective, “alright, now this is a view.”

“I must agree,” Baron added, though it was hard to hear over the sound of the fireworks.

Moving her head forward, Haru placed a gentle kiss upon Baron’s fur-covered cheek before leaning to rest her cheek against his back. “Just for the record, this is the best fireworks festival I’ve ever been to.”

And for the third time in Haru’s presence, Baron found himself at a loss for words as a pleasing warmth started to overcome his face. Yet as he turned to watch the brilliant lights display with the young woman beside him, he had to admit that it certainly was an enjoyable evening.

#the cat returns #neko no ongaeshi #baron humbert von gikkingen #haru yoshioka #renaldo moon #muta #toto (cat returns)#haru x baron #fanfiction #summer festival #fireworks #flustered baron gives me life #fluffy fic #one shot #my writing

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graceloveswolves · 4 years

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Insatiable Pt 2

Part 2!!!! Okay guys so here’s one of the alternative endings! I will be working on a part 3 of this one and the second one with a different ending so stay tuned!

@boywivlove

@thecrazytealady

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It had been months.

14 months, 28 days, 8 hours, and 32 minutes to be exact.

As each minute passed by, I had been closer and closer to being fully healed from the heart shattering fight I had with my creator, Carlisle.

Carlisle.

I had felt my icy cold heart drop by the thought of him. It had been the first time his name had crossed my mind at all this past month. I pictured his topaz eyes staring back at me, his perfectly styled blonde hair not having a single hair miss placed, his stupid smile, flashing me his perfectly straight teeth. I clenched my fist at the sudden urge to punch the perfect face I had pictured in my mind.

I wondered if he had thought about me as much as I had. I wondered when was the last time he had thought about me, if he had. Wondering if he was still alive, or if the human had destroyed the family like I had predicted. I used to check in with the Denali coven in secret every month or so, just to see how the Cullen’s were. I was always so curious, I had not been over there in over a year though, considering that the last I went to check up with them they told me he was looking for me.

Apparently Carlisle had asked around, from coven to coven, to ask if they had seen or heard from me. To which the Denali’s had kept my regular meetings a secret, knowing all too well what it was like to fall in love with a Cullen and not have the feelings returned. Which I respected from them, however I didn’t want to push my luck. If he was asking around, that meant he was seeking my presence, I had finally gotten what I wanted from him so badly for 333 years, I had gotten his attention.

But it was too little too late, I already had realized that I had not wanted to be found, over time I have found peace, and love, real love. Which resulted in the lack of check in’s from the Denali’s, who probably thought I was either dead by now, or had given up on keeping up with the Cullen Clan.

I stared down at what had been the cause of my stirred up thoughts of the Cullen’s. It was a tiny grey and blue invitation letter, with cursive print all along the inside of the letter. It was an invitation to Tanya’s wedding she had been planning. One of the members from the Denali coven. I believe it was in love with a newborn she had just turned, he before was a human she had fell in love with and deemed the love of her life.

I was debating on whether or not I should attend. They were family to me, and the invitation had been sent to the Carter coven of course, which I had now been apart of and taken permanent residence in.But they didn’t know that, no one did besides the Carter’s themselves. If I did attend, I would undoubtedly have to face seeing my old coven, and I could not hide.

I would have to explain myself to them. But then again it wasn’t about me, or the Cullen’s, it was about Tanya and her love for her mate. And she had been there for me, it was only fair to face my demons and be there for her in return. After all, I wouldn’t be facing my demons alone, I’d have my new coven that I had joined.

I smiled to myself as I flipped the fragile card around and around my fingers, she hadn’t been the only one to move on from a toxic relationship with a Cullen.

“Y/n, are you alright my love?”

The soft toned voice had snapped me out of my thoughts, I’d known that voice anywhere, speak of the devil. I gazed up sharply at the vampire that had stood before me in our shared cabin, reminding me where I was.

I was in my home, I had settled down in a tiny little cabin in the middle of the forests of Northern Virginia. I had sat on the balcony attached to my shared bedroom, it was my thinking place. Whenever I had troubled thoughts, or no thoughts at all, I had come out here to find inner peace within myself. I however, was not alone.

Once I had finally stopped running from Carlisle, I had spent weeks out in the woods, not really having a destination or plan in mind, just aimlessly wandering the forest, feeding on whatever unfortunate animal had crossed my path.

That was until Resmond Carter had found me.

He was apart of the Carter Coven, Carter Clan, whatever must you call it. The coven were ‘vegetarians’ just like me. A coven which consisted of three boys and a girl, all blood related siblings. The leader was Braxton Carter, the eldest sibling who was changed at the age of 24. He had dark brown hair and a built and muscular frame, a lot like my past brother Emmett. However, he did not attain the personality of him. Braxton had a quiet, but serious personality, he took his position as leader very seriously. He was a good leader, he had a lot of faith and will power, he has always saw the best in everyone.

Next was Clinton Carter, he was the second oldest in the Carter family. Changed at the age 23, by Braxton himself. He unlike Braxton, had wavy dirty blonde hair that rested just below his insanely sharp jaw line. He wasn’t as muscular as his older brother, he was more lean and scrawny compare to Braxton. But he was much faster, the fastest one in the coven in fact. Though no one dared to say so, it would only feed into his ego, which he already had plenty of. Clinton was never afraid to tell us about his speed either. With his cocky personality and flirtatious ways, you best expect a pick up line here and there from time to time.

Then you have Clara Carter, my best friend. She had shared similar features as Clinton. She had long dirty blonde hair, that fell just below her waist. She had strong cheekbones and always had a light hearten smile on her face. She was very tall, and always showed off her legs as well. She was very sweet and was very down to earth, and with growing up with boys all the time, she had welcomed me with open arms and was so eager to finally have another girl in the coven.

Lastly is Resmond Carter, the youngest vampire in the coven who had found me. He was the tallest in the coven, despite his status in age. He had dark brown hair, just like Braxton, and also shared the same personality trait of shyness, when he had first taken me in, I will never forget the awkward silence and unavoidable tension between us two at first. He wasn’t as muscular as Braxton but he was more buff then Clinton, which Clinton always complained about.

I smiled softly at the handsome man in front of me, taking notice in the concern placed on his pale face. “Yes, I am just thinking.” I responded, softening my gaze towards him as he stood in the doorway of the balcony. He had always understood my need for quietness from time to time, which is why he had gotten this cabin for the two of us in the first place. The Carter’s house-or more like mansion- was not far from this house, but far enough to where I didn’t have to worry about hearing screams and moans from Clinton and whatever random chick he had in his bedroom.

But I guess that door swung both ways.

It was nice to have a little escape from the family from time to time without worrying about them hearing things neither of us want them to hear. Plus with Clinton’s constant chatter, it was impossible to have any sort of quiet time.

I turned my head away from my love, and back out into the woods in front of me, watching as the sun shined across the beautiful meadow, I let my worried thoughts float away as I took in the scenery. It was a beautiful place Resmond picked out -he hadn’t even told me when he had gotten it- instead he had taken the opportunity to surprise me with it on our wedding night. Which was one of the best night of my entire exsistence.

I felt his arms wrap around my waist, pressing my back firmly to his chest. I tilted my head out of instinct, baring my neck to him. I felt him place a kiss to my neck, smiling into it. “What are you thinking about my love?” He added another trail of kisses down my neck and onto my shoulder. I smirked as I felt him tugging gently on the end of my shirt. Looking back on our first encounters of each other, and comparing it to today, it seemed silly of how shy we were of each other.

“About whether or not to attend Tanya’s wedding.” I had answered his question.

Which was not as near as exciting as he thought. I felt him pick up his head and grab my waist. I hadn’t told him my worry’s of seeing my old coven. Which must have confused him, given the reaction he was having right now.

“Well why not? I thought you said they were your family.”

He had turned me around, pressing my back against the balcony ledge. He lifted me up and sat me on top of the ledge, taking my legs and wrapping them around his waist. “They aren’t the only family Ive had. And they won’t be the only family at that wedding.” I explained, laughing as I watched Resmond take his shirt off mid-conversation.

“So you’re worried about your old coven?”

He asked like it was the simplest thing ever. I nodded, agreeing with his accusation.

“They won’t hurt you. I won’t let them. Braxton and I Can knock a couple heads off, you’ll be fine my love.” Res said as a tempt to reassure me, reaching behind me and tugging my shirt off in the process.

“Thats not what I’m worried about Res.”

He had furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, not getting the point of my concern. “What are you worried about then? Are you worried that Clint’s going to shag one of them? Because I’ll tell him to keep it in his pa-“

“No! No-that’s not it.” I cut him off, slapping his chest as I laughed uncontrollably at the thought of Clinton sleeping with one of the Cullens. I looked up at him, feeling so loved and blessed to have him in my life.

“Remember the leader I told you about?” I had asked my shirtless mate in front of me. He nodded confidently at himself. “Carl. Yeah that douche wad.” He responded, his fists clenched at the thought of him.

“Carlisle.” I corrected before finishing. “Well I was just worried-well not worried, more like nervous- that he was going to ask me to rejoin his coven- or try to resolve our fight- but I don’t even care. That man is no longer a part of my life. He didn’t have what it took to love me and that is his fault. Besides, I’ve found a much better one who’s been trying to show me how much he loves me and here I am worried about what people think. How stupid of me.” Ive concluded, grabbing onto Resmond’s shoulders looking up at his beautiful eyes.

“You’re wrong Y/n, you are a caring person. You’re too good for this world, you are not stupid my love.” He whispered, grabbing onto the back of my thighs and lifting me to his chest.

“But you were right about one thing.”

We both started laughing, as I wrapped my arms around his neck, kissing him lovingly as he walked us back into the bedroom.

One thing was for sure, I may not attend that wedding, not because I didn’t want to search for my love, but because I’ve already found it.

And I was happy and couldn’t be more in love with the man in front of me. There was no need to open wounds that have already healed. No matter how insatiable someone might be, I’ve already been sastified with my mate in front of me.

And there’s nothing more I would want then to spend the rest of eternity with him, because out of all the years I have been searching for love, it had finally found me.

And I couldn’t be anymore happy.

#twilight vampires #twilight #carlisle cullen requests #carlisle cullen oneshots #carlisle cullen imagine #carlisle cullen x reader angst #carlisle cullen x reader #carlisle cullen

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numba99 · 3 years

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Tis The Damn Season

Summary: You return to home around the holidays, bringing up some unresolved feelings between you and your best friend Nolan. This was highly inspired by the song Tis the damn season but Taylor Swift. I highly recommend listening to it (its amazing) and it really sets the ~vibe~. Word count: 5.3k

a/n: this is my longest one shot ever I think omg. but I love it so much I think this is my favorite fic I have ever written. let me know what you think and please Enjoy!

Warnings: smut

You walked down the street of your hometown, accompanied only by your breath going up in smoke. You were surprised that you were barely even registering the cold. You had assumed when you left Winnipeg for LA, your body would completely lose all its defenses to these frigid temperatures. However, as you were beginning to learn, the Canadian cold was the kind that seeped into your body and made a home out of you. It never truly left.

You almost forgot how silent Canadian nights were, the blankets of snow soaking up nearly every sound. If it wasn’t for the crunch of snow under your boots, you imagined it would be silent enough to hear your heart thumping in your chest. Especially now, as your heart began to realize where your feet were taking you. Nolan’s house.

You’ve been back at your parents’ house for a few days now as you got ready for the holidays. You hadn’t so much as seen Nolan once since you returned. In normal circumstances that would be absolutely unheard of, but considering you haven’t heard from Nolan in months, circumstances were certainly not normal.

Ever since you returned home, you’d been going on these nightly walks, as if trying to retrace your steps to that night where it all went so wrong. It felt like years ago thinking back to it now. It had been an oddly mild March night - nothing like the weather now - and you were home for spring break. It was your last semester at school and you had made probably what was the biggest decision of your life up until that moment. Instead of moving back home from your school in California after graduation, you were going to stay there. It was bittersweet, you loved your hometown and all the family and friends that inhabited it, but you also felt like you were meant for something more. Something bigger.

You were sitting with Nolan on your porch, enjoying your last night before you would return to school when you told him.

“What do you mean you’re moving there? Like permanently?” Nolan had asked, brows stitched together in confusion. His response had taken you aback; you expected him to be surprised but he seemed genuinely upset.

“I mean I can’t predict where I’ll end up forever, but it would definitely be permanent for the foreseeable future,” you had explained.

“I’m never going to see you,” Nolan had replied, his voice barely above a whisper. There was genuine hurt in his voice that was creating an ache in you that you couldn’t quite place.

“Nols, we barely see each other now. Remember that team you play for? In Philly? That not exactly close to home,” you had tried to sound light, but the joke fizzled and died in the tension between the two of you.

“You shouldn’t do it y/n,” Nolan replied, shocking you with his lack of support. You were rarely ever angry at Nolan, but this sparked annoyance in you. He was your best friend, why wasn’t he happy for you?

“It’s not up to you,” you replied, more defensive than you intended. You couldn’t help it, everyone you told had been questioning you and you had built up frustration. You’d thought about this for a while, and it felt right, you didn’t understand why everyone was acting like you were making some crazy impulsive decision. No one questioned Nolan when he went after his dream of playing in the NHL, so why was this suddenly so crazy to all your friends and family?

“And what are you gonna do there? What friends do you have?” he had fired back.

The anger in his voice made the words sting more than they should have. “I have a job lined up after graduation. And I have plenty of friends, thank you very much.” Anger was bubbling up in you - you were notorious for letting yourself get to a boiling point and just explode at someone. Nolan was getting dangerously close to being the unlucky victim.

“Right, your LA friends how could I forget,” Nolan muttered, rolling his eyes. Nolan had visited you once while you were in college. Let’s just say he didn’t exactly get along with your friends there. He hasn’t visited since. Partially because of his busy schedule, and partially because you knew he thought they were… not his type of people (to put it nicely).

“Just because you don’t like them doesn’t mean they’re bad people,” you snapped. What did he know? “And why are so pissed about this? I didn’t throw a fit when you moved to Philly.”

“That’s completely different.”

“How?”

Nolan stared at his hands, and you knew him long enough to know that what he did when he was something weighing heavy on his mind. He opened his mouth a few times before finally speaking, “I don’t want you to be that far from me.”

You were taken aback again but in a completely different manner. “What do you-”

Before you could even process what was happening, his hand cupped your face and his lips found yours. That was the closest you had ever been to a heart attack. Nolan was your first and best friend. Your parents had met in college, their friendship being the predecessor to yours. You were born pretty close together, so you’ve literally known him your entire life. There was no one you were closer with, no one who knew you better. You’re not exactly sure when your feelings grew beyond friendship. You supposed the seeds had been planted early, blooming over time into something you couldn’t control even if you tried.

Having a crush on your best friend is about as fun as it sounds, especially when you don’t think they feel the same. That’s why it shocked you so much to feel him kiss you. It was something you’d wanted for years, though you had never thought it would ever be a reality. You were speechless.

Nolan must have sensed your shock when he pulled away. He mumbled something that sounded like a goodbye and left in a hurry. You should have said something. You should have gone after him. But you didn’t, you sat there, weighed down by surprise of a dream coming true in a nightmarish way.

And then silence.

Nolan didn’t come to see you off the next day. He’d never missed you leaving for college, even when it was just returning after a break like this. The two of you rarely went more than a day without speaking and now there was nothing. With every day that passed that you didn’t hear from him, the ache that started that night you told him you were moving grew. Now that it had been months since you last spoke to him, it practically consumed you.

You knew how ridiculous it looked. He was your best friend, you should have been able to reach out to him. But that kiss had left you in a vacuum. Nothing made sense after it. Besides, he kissed you, shouldn’t he be the one to break the ice? Maybe that was a silly way to think of it, but with the more time that passed without speaking, the harder it felt to reach out. Now that it had been months, it seemed like an impossible bridge to gap.

Every night since you returned, you had walked the block that your homes share. Deep down, you knew your feet were on a mission to get you to his place, but it wasn’t until today that you were able to get close. You had always pulled yourself away before you could really get a good look at it. Today, however, you were finally standing in front of it, basking in the familiar, warm glow.

Your heart began to pound, realizing at any moment someone from his family could look out and see you standing there. You were about to turn around and hightail it home when the front door opening caused you to freeze. Your breath caught in your throat. It was Nolan.

His head was down, a grey beanie pulled down low over his forehead. He almost didn’t notice you; his eye only catching you when he reached his car. He stopped in his tracks, looking at you as if trying to decide if you were real.

“Y/n? Is that you?” he asked, his voice somewhere between confusion and conservative joy.

“Yeah, uh- hey,” was the only thing you could get out. You suddenly became aware of just how cold it was.

“Hey,” he replied, his voice seeming to be just on the crest of a quiver, “Where you… what are you doing out here?” It was clear he didn’t know what to make of you standing outside his house, and you didn’t blame him. You probably would be equally as shocked if the tables were turned.

You searched your brain for something to say. Nolan was someone you could talk about anything with, so it was killing you now to feel like you couldn’t find the right words to say to him. “I was just going for a walk I guess,” you answered finally. It was partially true.

“Clearing your head?” he guessed.

You nodded, allowing the smallest of smiles. He still could read you after all this time. “Yeah, I guess that’s exactly what I was doing.”

“Me too,” Nolan replied, motioning to his car. There was a quick silence before he asked, “Do you wanna join me?”

You could feel your blood coursing through you, spreading sweet warmth spiked with nerves. You missed him so much, and even though you didn’t know if it was smart to spend time with him when you didn’t even know what you wanted to say to him, you could not resist getting into his truck. You desperately needed something familiar.

You nodded and Nolan gave you one of his infamous half-smiles, punctuated by the click of his truck doors unlocking. You silently slipped into the passenger seat, something you’ve done a million times before, breathing in the scent you knew would be there. Mint and clean leather. Somethings never change.

It was weird going through the motions as nothing had ever changed. You could almost pretend that things hadn’t. However, the thick silence that settled between the two of you prevented you from reveling in that dream. It was so foreign to sit next to Nolan and feel uncomfortable. You never felt awkward around him - well there was that one time when he walked in on you in your bra but that was short-lived. He went out and bought a bra just so you could walk in on him in one so the two of you were even. It was ridiculous but it made you laugh and forget about your embarrassment. That was one of your favorite things about Nolan, he always knew how to make you feel better now. You could use that Nolan.

“Where were you planning on going?” You asked when you couldn’t stand the silence anymore. You tried to sound casual, but you heard the nerves fraying in your own voice.

“Somewhere we both know well,” Nolan replied. Cryptic as always, but you didn’t push. You had a feeling you knew where he was going anyway. The dark road sprawled out before you, illuminated only by his headlights and street lamps that were losing a fighting battle against the darkness of a December night in Canada.

You didn’t expect Nolan to say much as he drove, and you were still at a loss so the silence continued, heavy and suffocating. It felt like the two of you were fighting to breathe in the last bit of oxygen the small space had to offer. That made it all the more of a relief when you recognized the turns Nolan was taking. He was going to a park the two of you spent a ridiculous amount of time in as children. Even as you grew, it continued to be a place the two of you enjoyed, whether it be hiking the trails in the summer or sledding down the giant hill in the winter. It also became the location of many of your heart to hearts when one of you was going through something. A fitting spot for whatever was about to happen.

Nerves fluttered through your stomach as he pulled in. You knew a talk was coming, but you had no idea where the two of you would stand when he drove you out and that terrified you.

Nolan parked by the playground, buried under a thick blanket of snow. It stood like a relic to a lost childhood, a sense of freedom and possibility that was lost under burdens it wasn’t meant to bear.

“I would say we should go to our bench, but I don’t think you’d survive the trek,” Nolan joked lightly. The bench he was referring to was the one you always had your talks at. It was tucked away beyond the playground under a large maple, which you could see peeking out above the climbing walls. Somewhere on that tree “NP + Y/I friends 4 evr” was carved into the trunk. You weren’t sure how many summers ago the two of you did it anymore, but you do know you wished you’d carved a heart instead of just friends. Regardless, it puts a smile on your face every time you see it.

“Me? I didn’t know you were suddenly immune to frostbite,” you replied as playfully as you could manage.

“I’m better off than you. I haven’t been spending the last few months in LA.” You knew it was supposed to be a joke, but it came out with an accusatory edge. Any response you could think of died on your lips. A fight was the last thing you wanted to start right now. Back to silence.

Both of you kept your eyes trained ahead; it was a lot easier than facing each other. That didn’t stop you from stealing glances from your peripheral, trying to get a read on him. Nolan had an infamous poker face, but his energy was palpable. He was buzzing like a fluorescent.

Suddenly you couldn’t take it anymore. “Why?” You broke through the wall of ice between the two of you. “Why did you disappear on me?”

“I’ve been here the whole time. Technically you disappeared on me,” Nolan replied.

“I told you I was going,” you shot back.

“Yeah, the day before. More of a warning would have been nice,” he mumbled.

“Oh, so you could have a few extra days to ignore me?” Your words came out more venomous than you intended. Months of sadness were being compressed into a deep, hurting frustration.

Nolan finally looked at you, hurt etched into the blue of his eyes. A street light shined behind him, giving him an ethereal glow. Even though he was upset with you, he still took your breath away. “Talking is a two-way street you know,” he fired back, “You never picked up the phone either. I thought… I don’t know.”

“What?” you pressed.

“I thought you forgot about me.” His voice was barely audible, his eyes falling away from yours.

You couldn’t help but let out a strained laugh since it was the absolute opposite of the truth. “Nolan I thought about you every single day since I left,” you admitted without thought. You quickly added, “As pathetic and weird as that sounds, it’s the truth.”

“I thought about you every day, too,” he replied, looking at you again. Some of the hurt has dissipated in response to your statement.

“So why didn’t I hear from you?” You were less accusatory and more curious in tone this time. The anger was leaving you, now you were just confused and sad over the time you lost with him.

Nolan, taking off his beanie for a second to run his hand through his hair. “I guess I thought I fucked up,” he replied, pulling the beanie back into place. He added sheepishly, “By kissing you, I mean.”

Your heart ached. “Did you regret it?” you asked, trying not to show how much of a blow it would be to you if he said yes.

“No,” he replied, “I mean I would only regret it if it pushed you away, which I sort of feel like I did. You just looked so shocked and upset after, I thought I crossed a line. Then when I didn’t hear from you, I thought you were mad.” He paused, looking down at his hands, turning words over in his head. “I guess I was kind of embarrassed, too,” he said finally, “I’ve wanted to do that for so long, and then it kinda blew up in my face.”

You couldn’t believe what you heard. He wanted to kiss you? For a long time? You covertly pinched yourself to make sure this wasn’t some cruel dream. “You have?”

Nolan let out an embarrassed laugh. “Yeah, I have. I was just scared if you didn’t feel the same it would completely fuck up our friendship. Which it looks like I succeeded in doing.” he sighed.

You shook your head. “Nolan, you could not be more wrong,” you replied. He cocked a brow at you and you continued, “I’ve had a crush on you since- well- forever. I’ve wanted to kiss you for the longest time. I was just so shocked that it happened I sorta shut down.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously,” you confirmed. “God I feel like such an idiot.”

“That makes two of us,” Nolan half laughed. You joined him in the short laughter, fueled mostly by shock. A short silence returned as the two of you digested the weight of the revelations you just had.

“So… where do we go from here?” Nolan asked finally.

You let out a long sigh as you tried to collect your thoughts. “I’m not sure,” you replied honestly. “I mean hearing that you feel the same way as I do as you is the best news I’ve gotten in like, well ever,” you paused laughing at yourself, “But these last few months… they’ve been so hard. It’s hard to digest all this.”

“Was it all bad because of me?” Nolan asked, concernedly.

“No, not entirely,” you replied, not wanting him to feel guilty. In truth, he was only part of the equation. You had a ridiculous stubborn streak so it was hard for you to admit that maybe moving to LA wasn’t a great idea. You quickly learned that going to school and living/working somewhere were two totally different things. In school, you knew your friends were available every weekend; there was always something to do and people to be with. Now, everyone was weighed down by jobs and responsibilities that far outweighed term papers. Not to mention the job you thought was perfect was looking more like a dead end every day. Plus, Nolan may have been right about a few of your friends not being so great.

You continued, “It’s just, well it’s hard for me to admit, but LA isn’t exactly what I thought it was going to be. It was definitely hard without you, like so many times I wanted to reach out to you, but I didn’t because I was scared and confused. I feel pretty stupid about that now.”

You half expected Nolan to tell you he told you so, which you wouldn’t even blame him if he did, but he said, “I wish I was there for you. I’m sorry”

“It’s okay, it’s not your fault, we were both kinda stupid,” you replied as lightly as you could, “But if these last few months have taught me anything, it’s that I need you in my life. If we were together and something went wrong and I lost you, I don’t even know what I’d do.”

Nolan nodded in agreement, “You’re my best friend, I never want anything to come between that.” You both believed the words you spoke, and yet it felt like things were unfinished. You both weren’t satisfied with going back like nothing had ever happened.

“What if,” you began slowly, “I mean I’m here for a few more days, what if we just gave this - us - a shot during that time. We don’t tell anyone, it’s just for us to explore. If it doesn’t work out we can just go back to being best friends and forget this mess. But if it does… well I guess we will go from there.”

“I think that’s perfect,” Nolan agreed, joy creeping into his voice for the first time since you began talking. You couldn’t help but fling your arms around him in a big hug. It’s been so fucking long since you got to do that; it brought you an indescribable level of joy just to feel his arms around you again.

You both pulled back, smiling at each other, the hurt of the last few months melting away. Nolan brought his hand to your face and pulled you in for a soft kiss. Your head was spinning.

“As much as I wanted to do that the first time,” he said with a smile when he pulled away, “I wanted to do it a million times more now.” You giggled, pulling him back to your lips. You were never going to get tired of this.

“Take me home Nols,” you said breathlessly when you were finally able to peel yourself away. Nolan smiled, quickly shifting his truck into gear. You loved that you didn’t have to specify his home. He knew you, better than anyone.

Silence returned, but of a much different variety. It was now charged, alive with the promise of what was to come. You kept your hand firmly laced with Nolan’s, not wanting to give up touching me for a second. You’ve wanted this for so long, you had lost time to make up for. Years of it.

You’ve never been more glad that the basement of Nolan’s house had been turned into a little apartment for him. You absolutely adored his family, but you didn’t want to be seen by any of them sneaking into his room at this hour. That would be hard to explain.

Nolan helped you out of the truck, lifting you over some large piles of snow. After just a few steps over ice and banks of snow, Nolan decided it was easier to just carry you. You didn’t protest, letting out only a muffle shriek-giggle as he hoisted you on to his back. He navigated the tundra that was his yard with you clinging to him like it was nothing.

The warmth of his little place enveloped you the second he opened the door. Your lips found each other with a newfound excitement as the door closed behind you. You breathed in his familiar scent - mint and cedar - and realized why you had bought so many cedar candles when you moved. You’d been trying to replicate Nolan’s scent subconsciously, but nothing compared to the original. You began pulling off each other’s outerwear, trying to keep as much contact as possible. Within minutes coats and snowflakes were surrounding your feet.

You continued to kiss and peel off clothing as you half walked, half stampeded to his bedroom. You’d been in it plenty of times before when you guys hung out, but it felt so much more intimate this time around. You fell backwards onto his bed, his sheets greeting your back like a soft kiss. Nolan climbed on top of you, a heavy, lusty grin painted on his face. You took in each other, both only in your underwear. Rationally you knew it was no different than seeing each other in a bathing suit, something you’ve experienced countless times, but it still felt worlds apart. You couldn’t help but blush under his gaze.

Nolan’s hand came under your chin, tilting your face so he could look at you in the eyes. “No need to be shy, love,” his voice was smooth as honey, “It’s only me.” He punctuated his words with kisses down your neck. He to plant extra slow, sweet kisses around the edge where your bra met your skin, before removing the garment from your body. “So pretty,” he breathed against your skin. You tangled your fingers through his hair as his kissed and sucked lightly at your delicate skin.

“Nols,” you breathed as you felt his length brush against your clothed core. There were two too many layers of fabric between you. “Please.”

“I got you baby,” he cooed. He shed the final bits of clothing from the two of you and you sucked in a breath. He was bigger than you thought (because yes you had thought about it more than you care to admit), but moreso, you couldn’t believe this was happening. For so long, Nolan had felt like a dream to you, beautiful but always just out of reach. But now he was here in the flesh, touching you and kissing you and fuck you don’t know how you got this damn lucky.

“God you’re perfect,” he sighed, reverent.

“Look who’s talking,” you replied, running your hands down his body, truly feeling him. “You’re like a god or an angel or something.” You were tripping over your words, completely flustered by having him like this. So flustered, that you didn’t even notice his hand trailing up your thighs until two fingers slid into. Your head fell back, a moan melting from your lips.

“Now that’s angelic,” Nolan smiled, returning his lips to your neck. You weren’t sure if it was because you were so into him or if he was a master with his hands(probably both), but he had you worked up in minutes. Your body reacted to his every touch, arching into him to get as close as possible.

“Nolan I’m gonna-” the words died on your lips as a wave of bliss flooded your body. You let out breathless gasps, feeling a pleasure you have never previously experienced.

“Fuck that was hot,” Nolan said almost to himself. The way he looked at you made you feel like you could cum all over again.

“I need you Nols,” you said, greedy for more. He didn’t skip a beat, fishing out a condom from his bedside table before returning to you. Your heart was pounding with nervous excitement and you silently told it that you would never forgive it if it gave out before you got to finish this experience.

Nolan seemed to sense your nerves and pressed a soft kiss to your lips before saying, “We’ll go slow. Just enjoy it.” You nodded kissing him back before positioning him against you. You were so slick from your first orgasm that he slid in easy, though it didn’t make the feeling any less intense. Your back arched and Nolan gripped your hips into place, hissing at the feeling of you around him.

It wasn’t until he was all the way in that you both let out a breath. You felt so full and satisfied you’d be fine if he stopped there. Of course, he had other plans in mind. True to his word, he went slow, drawing out every thrust to let you feel each other. “You feel fucking amazing,” the words tumbled out of his mouth. If you weren’t so blissed out you may have been able to muster a reply.

Slowly, his pace quickened and you knew you weren’t going to last much longer. It was crazy what Nolan did to you, the way he was able to make you feel this good. And he knew it too. Sensing you were close again, his thumb found your clit, rubbing circles over the already sensitive spot. “Come on baby, cum for me,” he purred, licking his lips.

It was all you needed to succumb to his euphoria. His name left your mouth in a moan as you came for the second time. You barely heard his curses through your fog of bliss, but you couldn’t mistake the feeling of him twitching inside you as he came along with you. This blew everything you ever imagine out of the water by a mile.

“That was…” Nolan’s voice trailed off as he collapsed beside you. He pulled you on to his chest, peppering you with kisses.

“Amazing? Mind blowing? Perfect?” you offered.

“Perfect,” he confirmed, kissing you once more.

*** The next few days passed in a blur of pure perfection. There is nothing more that you needed after your disastrous few months in LA than to be surrounded by the people you love at the holidays. And being with Nolan made it all the more better. Truly, it wasn’t much more different than when you were friends, except there was a lot more kissing and touching under dinner tables.

When you weren’t enjoying these magical moments, your mind was going a mile a minute. You were trying to figure out all your options and navigate all the paths you could possibly take in your mind. No matter how many different possibilities you came up with, they always lead you back to Nolan. After these few days you couldn’t imagine your life without Nolan, and not just as a friend, but as a lover. Not just a lover, the lover, the only one you’d ever need. Or want.

Making that revelation both excited and terrified you. If he didn’t feel the same it would crush you. Those feelings came to a head on your last night, sitting out on your porch with Nolan like those many months ago. You could hear Christmas music and laughter of your families floating out from your house.

“So,” Nolan began.

“So,” you echoed, feeling the weight of the moment pressing down on you.

“I’m just gonna cut to the chase,” he began, “I don’t think I’ve ever been happier than I have been in these past few days. I love you, y/n. I always have and I probably always will even if you don’t feel the same. But I want this. I want us.”

You practically jumped on him, giving him a long kiss and not caring if anyone inside saw. “I love you too, Nolan,” trying to fight back tears. They were happy ones, but they’d probably freeze on your face. Nolan beamed brighter than you’d ever seen him.

“I have a sort of crazy thought though,” you admitted.

“What’s that?”

“I know I want to be in a city and all this time I thought LA was my perfect fit. But it’s certainly not,” you huffed, “But I think I know what would be. Philly.” Nolan looked at you like he was trying to decode if you were joking. You were most certainly not. What if he thought it was crazy? Or too much too soon.

Your insecurities disappeared as quickly as they came as he said, “There is nothing I would love more.” You hugged him tightly, wondering how it was possible for one person to feel so much joy.

“There’s just one more thing we gotta do,” Nolan smirked, “Tell our parents.” His head tilted to the front door.

“No offense, but I think your mom is gonna love this more than the necklace you gave her,” you teased, standing up and dusting some snow off of you.

Nolan chuckled, “You say that as if this hasn’t been on your mom’s list for years.” You giggled because he was absolutely right.

You took his hand as he led you back into your house. The warmth of both your home and all the people in it hit you the second the door opened, embracing you in an overwhelming sense of joy. There was absolutely no feeling in the world like loving Nolan, and you were so glad it was your feeling to keep. Forever.

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