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imnotusedtobeingloved · 3 years

Text

THAT’S ROUGH, BUDDY.

(PLEASE DON’T REPOST/REBLOG)

Warnings: heartbreak, betrayal.

Pairing: Zuko x f!Reader

Characters: Zuko, Katara, Aang, Toph, Sokka, Uncle Iroh (mentioned).

Requested: I guess?

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, nor the gif. Credit to the owners.

Summary: Part seven of “destiny is a funny thing”.

previous part

A/N: Hey guys! It’s part seven already! Let’s see how long i can keep this up lol. Have fun reading!

The steaming hot liquid in the pot reminded you of a long time ago. Of a small tea shop in the Earth Kingdom to be more specific. And so did the boy that poured it.

“No one can make tea like Uncle, but hopefully I learned a thing or two. Would you like to hear Uncle’s favorite tea joke?” He balanced a tray full of cups as well as a kettle. “Sure,” Katara said. “I like jokes,” Aang agreed and Toph didn’t seem unenthusiastic either. “Bring it!”

“Okay,” Zuko nodded, serving tea to the Duke and Haru before standing up, holding the tray. “Well, I can’t remember how it starts, but the punch line is “Leaf me alone, I’m bushed!”

The group stared at him. Silently.

“Well, it’s funnier when Uncle tells it,”

“Right ...” Katara dragged out the word. “Maybe that’s because he remembers the whole thing,” And as the rest of the group started laughing, Zuko gave a small smile. “It’s nice to get a chance to relax a little. It hardly ever happens,” Toph said, grabbing the cup Zuko handed her, before he approached Sokka. “Hey, can I talk to you for a second?" Your eyes followed the Water Tribe boy as he walked out, shortly followed by the prince. “What was that about?” You furrowed your brows, turning to Katara. “I don’t know,” She shrugged, sipping on her tea. “Hopefully my brother isn’t plotting anything stupid,”

The Team stayed gathered together around the fire until the sun left the sky and the night broke in.

Soon you were cuddled into your warm sleeping bag, the fire long since diminished. Your brows furrowed unconsciously upon a distant rustle, mind still foggy from your dreams. Drifting away once more, your features relaxed, only to be interrupted again seconds later. Sleepily you blinked your eyes open, trying to see through the dark with a cloudy vision.

It was probably nothing, you thought, turning around onto your other side, and the last thing you saw was the empty bedroll next to you...

Wait.

Empty?

You shot up, getting tangled in the sheets and tumbling over before you caught yourself. Careful not to wake the others, you stood up, looking around.

Where could he have gone? Had he left and betrayed you again? But how would he even get away?

You shook your head at the thought before it occurred to you. Appa! He wouldn’t, would he? You ran towards the bisons sleeping spot, heart beating rapidly, as if you didn’t know what to fear more: Finding Appa gone, or the prince.

Your lungs ached as you rounded the last corner, where you found the bison, fast asleep. A breath of relief passed your lips, walking up to him and crawling the soft furr next to his snout, to which he purred quietly. Suddenly a head appeared above the saddle, prompting a startled gasp from you. “(Y/N)?”

“Zuko!” You hissed, a hand over your chest. “What are you doing here?” The shadow questioned looming over you. “I’m the one that should be asking that question!” You pulled yourself up to the saddle, sick of him staring down at you. He grabbed your arm, pulling you up and finally explained when you landed next to him. “I have the feeling that Sokka might be up to something,” He drew his hood back and furrowed his brows. “Up to what exactly?” You searched his appearance for any indications, but he didn’t give anything away. “He asked me about the war-prisoners today. Where they would be put away,” Your eyes widened. “The Boiling Rock,” He nodded. “Exactly. I have the suspicion that he might try to-”

Your whispers where interrupted by silent steps in the distance and a quiet “Shhh,” from below. You and Zuko shared a look as someone climbed up, and eventually peaked over the rim of the saddle. “Not up to anything, huh?” The prince asked, arms crossed. Sokka fell, with a stiffled scream, his bags content spilling out on the floor. He gave you a resigned look. “Fine, you caught me. I’m gonna rescue my dad. You happy now?”

“No!” You exclaimed, while Zuko took an entirely different approach. “I’m never happy,”

"Look, I have to do this. The invasion plan was my idea, it was my decision to stay when things were going wrong,” The prince raised a brow at his words and jumped down from the saddle. “It’s my mistake, and it’s my job to fix it. I have to regain my honor. You can’t stop me, Zuko. And neither can you (Y/N),” He pushed Zuko aside, beginning to climb up to you. ”You need to regain your honor?” The prince questioned. “Believe me, I get it. I’m going with you,”

“No. I have to do this alone,”

You put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it softly. “No, you don’t, Sokka. We’re all in this together. We’re here for you,” Zuko nodded, motioning to the bison. “And besides, how are you going to get there? On Appa? Last time I checked, prisons don’t have bison daycares,” The boy looked between the two of you, before he sighed, shoulders slumping. "We’ll take my war balloon,” Zuko gestured for you to follow him, before leading the way.

The travel to the Boiling Rock remained silent for the most part.

Sokka had sat down on stack of boxes, while you leaned against the railing. Zuko blasted fire into the tank from time to time, making sure it kept moving. But eventually even the silence got deafening. “Pretty clouds,” Sokka spoke up. “Yeah ... fluffy,” You resisted the urge to slap a hand against your forehead, while Sokka whistled. "What?” Zuko said, giving him a look. “What? Oh, I didn’t say anything. You know, a friend of mine actually designed these war balloons,”

“No kidding,” The prince raised his brows. “Yep, a balloon ... but for war,” Zuko blasted more fire into the tank. “If there’s one thing my dad’s good at, it’s war,”

“Yeah, it seems to run in the family,” The firebender gave him a defensive look. “Hey, hold on. Not everyone in my family is like that,” Sokka held his hands up. “I know, I know, you’ve changed,” The prince lowered his gaze, shacking his head slightly. “I meant my uncle. He was more of a father to me. And I really let him down,” He gave you an indefinable look, but he redirected his attention so quick that you wondered wheter you’d just imagined it.

“I think your uncle would be proud of you. Leaving your home to come help us? That’s hard,” The boy argued, fumbling with his boomerang. “It wasn’t that hard,” Sokka’s head shot up. “Really? You didn’t leave behind anyone you cared about?”

“Well, I did have a girlfriend. Mai,” You bit your lip to keep quiet, waiting for his next words. “We tried for some time but it didn’t work out. It wasn’t what I wanted,” He seemed to have more to say, but Sokka interrupted with a sly smile. “That gloomy girl who sighs a lot?”

"Yeah,” Zuko confirmed, giving you a quick glance that went unnoticed. “My first girlfriend turned into the moon,” Zuko’s brows shot up before he briefly looked into the sky. “That’s rough, buddy,” He said, eyes landing back on Sokka. “What about you, (Y/N)?” You grew stiff, staring at Sokka’s face. “Me?”

“Yes, what about you? Any lovers in sight?” You crossed your arms, taking a moment to think. Zuko’s burning eyes roamed over your silhouette, but you didn’t dare meet his eyes. “No,” You answered eventually, lowering your head. “No one,”

By nightfall Sokka had fallen asleep, preventing you to do so with his loud snores.

Zuko was busying himself with keeping the tank full, while you took a look out in the distance.

“There it is!” You alerted the others, pointing towards the large construction. The Water Tribe boy awakened from his slumber, staggering over to see it. ”There’s plenty of steam to keep us covered. As long as we’re quiet, we should be able to navigate through it without being caught,” Zuko plotted. But as you entered the volcano’s steam, the balloon began to lose altitude quickly. “We’re going down! The balloon’s not working anymore!” Zuko blasted fire up into the balloon, but with no avail. “The air outside is just as hot as the air inside so we can’t fly!” You said, grabbing his arm to stop him. “So what are we supposed to do?” His gaze flew from you to Sokka. “I don’t know!” He said. “Crash-landing?”

The balloon skidded along the boiling water, splashing Sokka’s hand, which he shook while you put a hand over his mouth to keep him from screaming. Your aircraft hit the base of the rock, throwing you out in the process. You moaned, getting up and rubbed your sore hip. “How are we gonna get off the island if the balloon won’t work?” Zuko groaned, looking at the destroyed object. Sokka seemed to be more optimistic. “We’ll figure something out! I suspected it might be a one-way ticket,” The fire bender furrowed his brows. “You knew this would happen and you wanted to come anyway?”

“My dad might be here! I had to come and see!” Sokka walked towards the destroyed remains of the balloon. “Uncle always said I never thought things through. But this ... this is just crazy!”

“Hey, I never wanted you to come along in the first place! And for the record, I always think things through! But my plans haven’t exactly worked, so this time, I’m playing it by ear. So there,” He said gathering the balloon and throwing it into the water. ”What are you doing?”

“It doesn’t work anyway,” He shrugged. “And we don’t want anyone to find it,” You sighed. “I hope you know what you’re doing,” You turned towards the prison. “There’s no turning back now,”

By the time the sun came up, the three of you had found a supply room, stacked with reserve guard uniforms.

“I hope these disguises work,” Zuko said, voice muffled by the mask. “We just need to lay low and find my dad as soon as possible,” Sokka said, blue orbs peaking out of the slit. They were just as beautiful as Katara’s. Your head whipped around whe a series of guards ran by, one coming back to look at your team. “Guards! There’s a scuffle in the yard. Come on,” He gestured wildly. Prisoners were gathered in the yard, forming a circle as the guards moved through to the inside.

“I didn’t do anything! I’m going back to my cell,” A tall man called, as a guard whipped fire in his direction. “Stop right there, Chit Sang,” Zuko tried to approach, but your hand shot forward to stop him. “We can’t blow our cover,” You whispered.

“I’ve had it with your unruly behavior!” The guard yelled, getting more riled up by the second. “What did I do?” Chit Sang asked. “He wants to know what he did,” The guard gloated, looking at you. ”Isn’t that cute?" His face grew sour when none of you answered and your tongue felt tied, prompting you to nudge Zuko in the side. “Uh, very cute, sir,”

“Super cute,” Sokka added. The guard walked up to Chit Sang, getting into his face. “You didn’t bow down when I walked by, Chit Sang!” The man looked confused. “What? That’s not a prison rule,”

“Do it!”

“Make me,” The guard growled walking away, but not without whipping fire at the male. Chit Sang blocked it, redirecting the flame to its owner, who broke it with a kick. “Tsk, tsk. Firebending is prohibited. You’re going in the cooler,” He ordered. “You! Help me take him in,”

“Meet back here in an hour,” Sokka whispered to you and Zuko before following the command.

But you didn’t meet in an hour.

In fact, not even you and Zuko managed to stay together, soon being pulled into two different directions due to commands. While you ended up in the weaponry, you had no idea were the others went. “Not your first time doing this, huh?” A guard leaned against the wall next to you, arms crossed. You gave him a brief look, before you resumed sharpening the swords and knifes. “Not really,” He took his helmet off, raising a brow. “How come?” You shrugged, not meeting his gaze. “I’m a non-bender. You need to know your weapons if you want to defend yourself,”

“True,” he inclined his head, taking a knife of his own and starting to prepare it. “I’m impressed. Not many non-benders manage to get employed at the Boiling Rock. Normally they prefer fire benders,” You hummed, grabbing fire the next weapon. “Guess I must be special then,” The guard gave you an amused grin. “You don’t have to wear the mask in here by the way. It’s more of a representative part,” You choose to ignore his comment, instead trying to redirect the conversation. “Hey, can I ask you something? It’s all pretty new to me and I didn’t get to explore everything yet,”

The thought didn’t seem to bother him, featured remaining relaxed. “Sure, rookie. Ask away,” You subtily cleared your throat, attempting not to sound suspicious. “I know the Boiling Rock holds the Fire Nations most dangerous criminals. But what about war prisoners? Do they end up here as well?”

The man shrugged. “If they make it this far... probably,”

“So...” You swallowed. “Any Water Tribe inmates here?” He huffed a short laugh. “You’re pretty interested in those prisoners for a guard,”

“Am I? Shouldn’t I know who I’m watching over?” He shrugged. “I guess so. You’re just very specific about it,” It was time to shut up, you concluded, grabbing a knife. “Well, anyways, thank you for the-” The words god stuck in your throat when you saw Zuko passing by through the window in the door. If you hadn’t been convinced by his amber eyes, then for sure by the time you saw his scar.

“I have to go.” You muttered, subtly slipping the weapon into your pocket. “Hey! Wait up!” The guard yelled rushing after you. You’d just managed to slip through the door, when he grabbed your upper arm. A few seconds later and you would’ve managed to blend in with the others in the lounge. “You can’t just leave. Your work isn’t done yet,”

“Sorry,” you retorted, desperate to reunite with your group. “but I can’t stay.” You rammed your elbow into his ribs, knocking the air out if his lungs. The halls were empty, thanks to the midday meal everyone joined. If you’d manage to lock him into the weaponry you could leave undetected.

You grabbed him, shoving him back into the room and slamming the door shut, before sticking the knife through the handle and using your fire to heat up the metal, sealing it shut. You breathed a relieved sigh as he banged his fists against the door and turned around, colliding with a large chest.

“What do we have here?” The man grinned, locking you in a tight grip that made you squeeze your eyes shut. "I arrive late to the break one time, and there's already trouble," He produced a flame, melting the blockade. The guard you’d locked in opened the door, his face distorted in anger. “She locked me into the weaponry, asked a lot of questions and lied about being a non bender,” He spat, glaring at you.

“Well,” the male behind you said. “What do you want do with this imposter?” The guard snarled.

“Throw her into the cooler!”

tags: @zvkonation @viva-la-millennia @randomness501 @drheinzd @kaylove12 @duh-dobrik @yeetscreetiwannaeat @ ashnkamfeun @hailkyoshi @shortmexicangirl @animexholic @sorrythatspussynal

#zuko x reader #zuko fanfic #zuko imagine #zuko x you

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do-androids-dream-ao3acc · 3 years

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A lovely person prompted me with not much more than the word “cooking”. You know how it is, it can get spicy in the kitchen... (2897 words, rating somewhere between M and E, I guess, see for yourself...)

Read “Take hold of the flame” (yes, BG lyrics, again) under the cut or on AO3.

The bed was significantly smaller than what he was used to. So it was hardly surprising that when Emhyr awoke, he found himself lying half on top of Geralt. A whole bundle of white hair tickled his nose. Oddly enough, it smelled faintly of hay. Horse stable, he thought, amused. Apart from that, it just smelled like Geralt, an indefinable, somehow spicy (irresistible) scent. Not quite tangible, not quite real. Like the whole man, actually, which was exactly why he loved him.

Emhyr noticed that his right leg was resting rather uncomfortably on Geralt's hip, somehow entangled with him. Still, although he had pinned him somewhat down with his body in sleep and he was buried in his pillows, Geralt just slept on peacefully. Amazing, how this man could sleep in the most inconvenient positions. As if it was precisely Emhyrs weight that he needed to be comfortable. That wasn't true; he knew that – Geralt was just used to taking advantage of any sleep he could get, even if he had to do so sitting up. Still, Emhyr liked the thought that his husband would sleep better beside him. He did, that was for sure.

That wasn't why he found himself in this ridiculously narrow bed (which Geralt claimed was a perfectly standard size for two people). At least it wasn't the only reason. The fact that they were now married did not mean that they were free of their obligations, and they both seemed to cling to them with unusual stubbornness. So it happened that they didn't see much of each other, especially when Geralt was away on a contract for almost two weeks, as he had been recently, and eventually stopped off at Corvo Bianco to check up on things. But for this case, they had an agreement, as silly as it was touching at the same time. They called it a kind of hiatus, and there was only one person in the palace who was in on it – the court sorceress, and she was necessary to make it work at all.

In this way, Emhyr occasionally spent a night in Touissaint (without his troublesome cousin knowing). Although they usually didn't stray far from the house (the bed), starry nights under Touissaint's sky were always the closest thing to a honeymoon. Now it was morning, and in a few hours, he would be picked up again just as discreetly as he had come here. Carefully, Emhyr tried to untie their entwined legs. Getting out of the tangled hair was much harder; he liked the smell and how savage Geralt looked when the unkempt mane fell over his shoulders. With that hair and all the scars on his body, he was a unique, wonderful sight that Emhyr could never get enough of. Even when he realized, as he did now, that the only reason he saw so much of it was that he had snatched the entire blanket during the night. However, he had warmed Geralt for it with his body, which was probably somehow a compensation.

The golden eyes opened just as Emhyr lifted his head.

"Fuck," was the first thing Geralt said, his voice still hinting sleep.

If there was a way to show amusement only by lifting the eyebrows, Emhyr had mastered it.

"If that is really the first thing you want to do?"

"Not funny," returned his witcher, growling. "You filled me up with your wine last night. I'm having a hangover. Who brings wine to Touissaint anyway?"

"One fine day, maybe this dead vineyard of yours will bear fruit, and then you can retaliate. Besides, you can't actually get a hangover."

"I can get a headache."

"That's gone in a couple of minutes."

"You're heartless," Geralt muttered from somewhere under his tangle of hair. "What time is it? Are you leaving already?"

"No, we still have some time."

Emhyr bent down, wiped some stubborn hair from Geralt's face, and kissed him gently. He still tasted of wine, and they both had to rinse their mouths, but he couldn't help touching those lips with his first thing in the morning. He always earned a smile, as if the sun rose twice. Geralt just lay there, looking at him, regarding him with that mixture of wonder and admiration that hadn't left him in a long time. The wedding hadn't changed that; perhaps it had only intensified the amazement in particular.

"We could still have breakfast together," he suggested. "Although... I told Marlene not to drop by until around noon."

"I suppose you had a slightly different breakfast in mind?"

Geralt grinned, but his traitorous stomach decided to use that very moment to growl.

"That can wait if you want to satisfy another hunger first," he said at Emhyr's skeptical look, grabbing his neck to get another kiss.

But to his surprise, Emhyr replied, "You know, we could actually have breakfast together. We're usually never alone when we do that. I could cook something. It would be peaceful."

Geralt gave him an incredulous look.

"You want to do what?"

Emhyr's lips curled into one of those little cocky smiles.

"You don't believe it? Well, my dear, until my childhood dissolved so rudely into a curse, I did indeed enjoy an excellent upbringing. Strict, but effective. I can in fact do a few small dishes."

Geralt narrowed his eyes, unsure if this was another of Emhyr's strange jokes.

"You want to cook me something," he repeated, without it sounding like a question – more like a not-quite-serious statement.

He should have known better than to challenge Emhyr, of all people.

There was a flash in the latter's eyes. Not only did he love being right, but he also loved each and every one of his little victories over his spouse – each war of words, each stare that he held out longer. So he got up with grace, dressed in no time, and was already halfway out the door when Geralt untangled his hair with his fingers and said in confusion, "You're serious."

Emhyr turned around, the doorknob already in his hand, and replied without any irony, "I'm basically serious about everything. You should know that by now."

Sometime later, Geralt stood in the doorway to the kitchen, wrapped only in the bedspread, still tousled. It was a rare sight: he was completely relaxed, and not just because he was in his own home. Moreover, it was also quite a stimulating sight, but Emhyr was not easily distracted. He had quickly gained an overview of the kitchen, and now he was slicing apples with extreme precision while heating a pan over the fire.

Geralt watched him skeptically as if he still couldn't believe what he was seeing. In fact, he had never seen him like this before: barefoot in a kitchen, modestly dressed in the same black pants and black shirt he had appeared in yesterday. Yes, the shirt was elaborately embroidered with not very modest gold threads, but by Emhyr's standards, he made a very casual impression. He also hadn't combed his hair yet, which was why some of his little black curls were still visible. Emhyr indeed appeared utterly relaxed as well. And that was even rarer than with Geralt, who stood in the door frame and gave him a look that now trulyindicated a completely different hunger.

However, neither the look nor the sight could distract Emhyr. There was a small bowl in front of him, and he cracked some eggs in it. Then he added flour, grabbed a jug, poured milk into the bowl, and stirred the dough carefully. Checking, he opened a couple of jars on a shelf by the wall, smelled them, stuck his finger in one, and licked it. He gave Geralt a quick glance. He was still standing there, his arms crossed over his chest, and his smile had something moonstruck about it. Finally, Emhyr found what he was looking for and added a pinch of salt to the bowl.

"It looks like you know what you're doing," Geralt said, his voice slightly hoarse.

Emhyr shook his head.

"If I had known how stimulating you would find this, I would have done it sooner," he replied, slightly amused, as he added some lard to the pan.

A slight sizzling sounded, and a pleasant smell filled the room. Something was satisfying about this: an immediate, visible result. An actual change for someone who often had to plan his strategies months in advance. Now he added some apple slices to the pan and sprinkled sugar on top. The smell became sweeter, more intense. Emhyr rummaged in some drawers and sniffed at several small jars until he triumphantly held up one of them.

"Cinnamon," he said, sprinkling a tiny amount into the pan before adding some batter.

Geralt didn't care what he poured into it; he simply liked the sight of his husband, who seemed to be wholly absorbed in his current activity. Who would have ever expected the Emperor of Nilfgaard to be able to make pancakes? There was something satisfyingly meditative about how he baked out one after another and lifted them onto a plate.

"You'll have to eat these quickly; there's no oven here," Emhyr remarked.

Geralt didn't answer; he continued to look at him. The warmth of the fire had reddened Emhyr's cheeks. Eventually, the bowl was empty, the plate filled, and Emhyr said, "Make yourself useful and set the table."

Geralt, who seemed to have been waiting only for this announcement, stepped forward, grabbed Emhyr's hand, and replied roughly, "Oh, I'll set the table," and pulled him along, pushing him against the small sideboard. Almost unexpectedly – for himself – Emhyr did not resist; he allowed himself to be pulled, uttering only a feeble, "I thought you wanted to eat."

"I'll eat, don't worry."

"Obscene."

"Maybe, but you'll still like it."

Emhyr did not doubt that, even more so when Geralt began to capture his mouth with a tempestuous kiss that betrayed his passion almost as clearly as his sight – for now, he dropped the blanket he still had wrapped around him, presenting his hard-on.

Emhyr raised a brow in one of his meaningful, typical gestures.

"This is what you get for watching me cook?"

"You have no idea. But don't worry, no one goes hungry in this kitchen."

"No more kitchen jokes," Emhyr groaned while Geralt was already in the process of relieving him of his clothes.

The room was neatly heated up, and the old house with its few windows was rarely cool anyway. However, the fire's proximity was not the only reason why beads of sweat stood on Emhyr's forehead after a short time.

By now, the whole place was a mess - there lay his shirt and trousers, the blanket, and some stuff Geralt had unintentionally thrown off the sideboard, as he had pushed his husband against it. Emhyr couldn't care less, for now, Geralt had gone to his knees, and he did his utmost to make Emhyr raise his arousal to the same level. This was not difficult – as usual, the sight of the witcher was nearly enough. The golden eyes, half-hidden under all the tangled hair, which he could hardly stop himself from reaching into, sparkled when they looked up at him. And his lips were shiny too, moistened by his tongue, which was now already so close. It was part of the game to hold back a little longer, and he put his hands on Emhyr's hips, also to savor the feeling for another moment. But everything about this made it hard to resist – the warmth of the kitchen, Emhyr's very own smell, now mixed with apparent arousal, that surprisingly soft down of pubic hair for such a large and imposing man, now right before Geralt's eyes. He didn't try any longer.

The heat grew stronger, but now it came from within, rising directly from Emhyr's abdomen, moving upward, spiraling up in lustful waves. The feeling enclosed him, like Geralt's mouth, and his fingers clawed into the wood of the furniture behind him, knuckles almost as white as the hair below. The tongue was a pure provocation, just like the looks. A challenge, the attempt to break through Emhyr's composure prematurely, always in vain. After all, he'd been playing this game much longer than Geralt, at least in this way.

It was time to turn the tables. He leaned forward and placed his hand on the back of Geralt's neck, neither gentle nor firm, his fingers performing a sole impression of possessiveness. It was a power that had nothing at all to do with his status, and it was the only one Geralt had followed – ever since he had first decided that there were situations in which he would deliberately kneel before him. He did not do it for the Emperor; he did it solely for the man Emhyr was besides.

With gentle pressure from his fingertips only, this man now ordered him to stand up. He wrapped his arms around that amazingly slender waist, pulling him closer, while at the same time, his eyes were locked on Geralt's, just as it was the other way around. Both locked onto, both lost in each other. Could it get any warmer in the kitchen? Slowly, very slowly, he bent over, seeking the wet lips, but his own taste on them was nearly too much for him.

Almost roughly, he whirled around, his arms still around Geralt, and with amazing strength (and perhaps some encouragement), he lifted him very briefly until Geralt was sitting on the sideboard. More things fell, kitchen utensils, garlic bulbs, a strangely deformed golden spoon.

"We need some...," Geralt began, a little out of breath from both the kiss and the arousal.

"It's a kitchen," Emhyr interrupted him as his hands roamed over Geralt's body.

He gave his fingers just as much time as his lips, for that was his part of their game, and as expected, his spouse responded with impatient little sounds. But Emhyr had already found what he was looking for. A narrow little clay jug contained oil that smelled very slightly of the olives grown in Touissaint. It was not an unusual tool for what he had in mind, though considerably simpler than anything they usually used.

"Someone's gonna need to clean this place up," Geralt commented as Emhyr yanked a bundle of herbs off a hook on the wall while trying to reach for the jar.

"If you want to make sure your housekeeper doesn't find out what happened in her kitchen, you better do that," he countered.

But then, the time for banter was over. A glance without words, a silent agreement they gave each other over and over again, despite all the passion. They smiled at each other in their inimitable way: a broad expression on one side, a mere sparkle in the eyes on the other. The time had come to stop holding back, and all passion channeled into a powerful first thrust, so hard that the back of Geralt's head hit a wall shelf. His suppressed scream might have expressed pain or pleasure at the same time; it didn't matter.

The kitchen was a furnace now, but most of the heat emanated from their bodies, less from the fire behind them. Emhyr's hands, still slippery from the oil, clawed at Geralt's ass, holding him steady while he kept a ruthless pace. All playfulness had fallen from them, and they pursued their lust with a kind of sacred seriousness.

The sweet whiff of the pancakes had long since been covered by a tangy scent of sweat and passion. Unfamiliar sounds filled the place, usually accustomed only to the hissing of frying food or the clinking of dishes. Now, there was the slapping of skin against skin. Lips, that met each other in the middle of a moan. A word, an invitation, a demand for more. Desire, increasing the more it was indulged, became sounds, became touch, until they indeed became one.

The release was like a fire that never loses its spark. And when it came, it came with a sigh and a groan, with laughter silenced by a kiss. After that, they just held each other until their hearts calmed down. When he had regained his speech - even if his voice still sounded a little flat - Emhyr said, "Your food is cold."

Geralt looked at him, a sheepish expression crossing his features.

"I hate apple pancakes," he blurted out.

A raised eyebrow was the maximum amount of astonishment Emhyr allowed himself.

"You eat them all the time. We have them for breakfast several times a week."

"I eat them because you eat them. You seem to like them; you're the one who keeps ordering them. And you seem to like it when I eat them. That's the only reason I keep doing it."

Emhyr hid a small smile that wanted to steal onto his mouth in Geralt's tangled hair and whispered close to his ear, "That' s idiotic."

"I know," Geralt returned.

"I like it," Emhyr said, and only a very, very careful observer would have noticed that his shoulders moved slightly. As if in a tiny laugh, perhaps.

"I know," Geralt repeated.

He did not hide his smile, and the sun rose for the second time that morning. It was going to be a beautiful day.

#fanfiction #Emhyr x Geralt #Geralt x Emhyr #Emhyr/Geralt #Emralt #domestic bliss #somebody's cooking #but nobody's eating

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natsukitakama · 4 years

Text

NSFW alphabet Eren Jaeger edition

Author note : would you believe me if I told you I literally dreamt about it ? I’m not kidding I’ve got the whole thing on my mind I couldn’t not write this down. Well I hope you’ll enjoy it. I’ve got inspire by couple headcanon I read but I couldn’t remember which one my apologies.

I do not own that gif credit to the owner

Warning : NSFW below / gender neutral

Masterlist

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

He is not the best when it came to aftercare but he’s not the worst. It’s just he gives everything during your session to please you, to love you properly that he just felt so tired after that. So basically he will just lay down and have you on his chest, his hand on your hair stroking it while falling asleep. But if he was a particularly rough session or if he felt like you need some proper aftercare be sure he’ll do everything for your comfort : clean you by running you a bath if you’re not too sore (otherwise he’ll will clean you while you’re on the bed), massaging some spot he might hurt like your hips or your back, even changing the sheets if you two were particularly dirty.

On a rare occasion, when both of you have time and if Eren felt particularly needy he might make a bath for both you so he could have you back against his chest his arm around you while he would kiss your neck or your shoulder. It’s something he’ll grown to love so that will become an habit of him.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

First of all he is absolutely in love with you meaning he doesn’t care about your physics he loves you for who you are. Buuut he is obsessed by your eyes and lips there something about how powerful they are and how good they fell when they are in him. He craves for any mark of affection and he is sucker for your hand, just the way they feel on his cheek when you kiss him or desperate they are on his when he fucks you the right way.

But if you want to be dirty, there something about your chest that never stop to amazed him. He just can’t help but stare at them : he is chest man.

When it came to him, he kinda proud of his abs and basically his whole chest. Like I said he is chest man so if he is amazed by how good your chest look, he is also concerned by the way his chest look : he always smirk when he catches you looking at his abs, his arms lusting for his body.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

Normally Eren isn’t messy at all, he was taught to be clean no matter what circumstances (no wonder why Levi likes the way Eren clean). So when it came to sex he tries his best to not make a mess. But it’s kinda difficult you know ? Cause he really loves to cum on your body it’s definetely a huge turn on for him : if he saw your chest covered by his cum damn he’s done for another round with you. He just loves the way he could mark you as his even if he’ll clean you after you won’t be able to erase that picture.

You’re wondering why he never comes into you ?

That’s simple because he was afraid to ask you, no matter how long your relationship is established there still things who is he still ashamed to ask. But one day, you two were more intimate than usual : he got you sat on his lap riding his cock, your hands on his shoulder for support while he was holding you by your hips whispering how much he loves how he couldn’t have enough of you. With a quick move he got you on your back, your legs around his waist as he was moving deeply in you. There were nothing rough on his move just pure love and adoration for you. Your breath were erratic has his hit all the good spot, then he started to speed up his pace feeling that both of you were close to your climax. And with a last powerful thrust he filled you, as you were overwhelmed by your own orgasm. He couldn’t describe how good he felt and you couldn’t either.

Right after this he apologized for culling inside of you which you told him that it was absolutely fine besides you enjoyed it. Now no matter when, everytime you walked by his side he got that smug on his face knowing there something who came from him into you.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He loves keeping your underwear after having sex with you, he’ll try to catch it before you could notice. Then he’ll help to dress again taking advantage of the fact you were probably too sore to even noticed you weren’t wearing your underwear anymore. Then, when he’ll be alone with Jean he might let poke out your underwear just enough so Jean would catch him : The smug on Eren’s face is indefinable he just enjoys letting him know that he actually has a significant other and he is more a man than him. Also the sight of Jean became a whole blush mess because he understand why Eren had your underwear in his pocket is priceless.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

No matter how old he was when you started your relationship, expect him to be a baby virgin. During his whole life he was only focused on killing titans besides he never expected to meet someone and being in relationship.

But he’s not that obvious when it came to sex, his father was a doctor so yeah he taught him a things or two about human body : when he was 8 years old he learned how to make baby and it definetly disgust him I mean what the point of putting something who is supposed to be for peeing in something who is supposed to do the same things ? That day he told his mum he will never make baby which makes her laugh so hard. Of course he doesn’t know how powerful hormones can be. Basically he knows the basics where to put his cock and what to do to not hurt you : he is absolutely unaware how important foreplay is, at first he thought kissing you was enough to turn you on (well it is but you know that’s not all about it ???).

So you’ll have to talk a lot about it with him so he won’t do mistake he might regret.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

At first he was absolutely fine with you under him, missionary was definetly his thing. In fact even if he doesn’t have experienced in sex, Eren is pretty dominant in bed. So having you under him, your legs around his waist as you giving yourself to him : that’s so beautiful and yet so powerful.

With time, he’ll try more position as he is very open about it ( he doesn’t see what he should be ashamed about being curious sex is just another subject ???), he loves when you ride him the sight of you blessing with pure ecstasy definetly became a kink for him, he is sucker for doggy style cause not only did you trust him enough to let him have his thing but it also felt absolutely good. When he felt especially needy or romantic, he will take you on his lap as you ride him while hugging you.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

Find something eren isn’t serious about. You got it, like I said, sex is another subject that interest him so he is not afraid to ask something or just try new thing. And like any subject he is into, he is very serious so don’t expect him to crack some joke or anything in addition he will feel offended if you try to mock him or anything : this is something intimate and very important, he is about to show you how much he loves you so be serious.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Did you see that poor baby goatee and mustache he got back in Mahr days ? He isn’t very hairy and he shaved a lot cause he loved being smooth he finds it more convenient and clean. When it came to you well, he is not very demanding but he expect you to no bother him with your hair.

He is not a fan of hairs that could be a turn off if you didn’t take care of it, but he won’t ever force you to shave or anything just asking you to take care of it so it won’t bother him while he takes care of you.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

At this times, you could guess what I’m about to answer. He is VERY intimate with you, sex is another way for him to show you how much he loves you and since he is not very good with his words it’s a good way to counterbalance that. Eren is known to be a passionate person : When he has sex with you he does passionately.

Expect him to cover your body with kiss and deep touch, he’ll whispers into your ear praising you telling you how much he loves you. Slightly just enough for you to feel, he will bite your earlobe and your neck expect some hickeys at the end of your session. He will caress every part of your body kissing each part of your skin at this time you might even come about how good he is when he touch you. He wants you to be pleased like the queen you are to him. Eren is passionate you’re one of his passion and he wants you to know that.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

During a long time he never touched himself, not because he didn’t want to but because he didn’t know what to do : unfortunately his dad was gone before he has time to teach him this (Grisha only taught him how to make a baby he wanted to talk about masturbation when Eren would be a teenager). He only learns about it cause one day he saw one of his camarad touching himself on the bedroom, it was short but he saw how to do it. And during the night when was alone on the bathroom he tried.

It felt good and his released help him going through his stress, so basically he used to do it to destress. He stopped it when you two became intimate cause he didn’t see the point of keep going.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

He might have a daddy kink and a pregnancy kink but won’t admit it. He is a Dom in bed, he counterbalance the lack of control he has on his own life, on the bed with you (which you were absolutely fine with that since he knows how to please you). In addition he always wanted to have a family on his own, the sight of you and especially your belly full of baby of him : +100 ego boost for eren. In addition he might have a voyeurism kink (Go to W ;))

That’s something quite « dark » for him so he might never talk about it

But that’s not all about it, he got a praise kink just told him how good he make you feel and he’ll reward you. He has lack of confidence so it’s good for his pride. He might be into overstimulation too cause the sight of your body shaking from pleasure is a most for him.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

Your room is definetly his favorite place but considering how busy you two were, most or the time much to his dismay you couldn’t have sex in your place.

Time to time he enjoys having you in storeroom, back against a wall, trying to shut your moan as he fucks you deeply. One day he tried to sleep with you on a wood during a day-off but he wasn’t satisfied cause he has to be quick so you won’t be caught.

Basically any place with a wall, a table would be fine with him but a bed it’s definetly a most.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Again no matter how old he was when you two got intimate, he became addict to it. He is kinda sensitive and the feeling he got while he was into you was incredible and nothing could compare. But, Eren being the man he is, he could be kinda obvious when it came to something who isn’t titan’s related. So sometimes when you were excited and wanted to got released from him, the boy might not see it.

So to have him in a mood is pretty simple, there are so much things he loves about you especially your body. If you want to be subtle you could play with the button of your shirt while looking at him, or bitting your lip while looking at him. If he doesn’t get what you need or if he wants to tease you by not giving you what you want. Well you’ll have to confront him, took his arm into yours and make sur to squeeze it against your chest while whispering into his ears how much you crave for him, bit very gently his earlobe then beg for him and one minute later you find yourself against a wall while he kissed you.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He is definetly against everything who involves pain, your life was already painful and hard without bringing it into bed (he won’t be against spanking you though) so forget anything like blood play, hard BDSM, anything involving humiliation.

Threesome is a big no a HUGE NO you are his and only his what would you bring someone ??? Don’t ever ask him, seriously he will think he is not good enough for you. You don’t want to make him sad right ?

Basically everything Involving lack of movement (like tie someone) isn’t really his thing since he used to be tied a lot of time. But if you bring it safely, explain him and took your time he might tie you up against the head of the bed but it’ll take even more time for you to convince him to let you tied him up : most of the time it triggered bad memories so it kills the mood.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

Give him head and he will be the luckiest man of the world, seriously he was a bit reluctant at first cause he didn’t expect something like that to happen. But when you started to kiss his length his doubt was quickly forgotten. He loves receiving more than giving but that doesn’t mean he won’t give you a special treatment. This is a part of why he loves your lips, around him sucking him like the good lover you are.

little trick : give him a deep throat while playing with his balls and the whole neighbors will know your name.

He is very good with his tongue and he got better and better with times, the feel of you against his mouth shaking, moaning, begging for him is a huge turn on for him. If he managed to make you cum hard on his mouth he might cum himself cause it was incredible. If you think he was good with his tongue, he is even better at giving head with his fingers.

P = Pace (Are they fats and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Usually his pace his deep and kinda fast, he is so lost in the moment and the sound of your moan is everything he needs to purchase his own release. He wants you to feel him just as much as he enjoys feeling your wall around him.

On a rare occasion, when he is romantic he would be very slow but always deep into you just enjoying the pleasure in addition it gives him all the time he wants to love you and praise you. On the contrary when he feels jealous, he tends to be pretty rough : he will ravage you in bed just to make sure everyone in the world will know who you belong to

No matter which pace he will have, you always felt overwhelmed by pleasure. He is great lover despite his lack of experience he is fastest learner.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

He is not into quickie, sex is supposed to be an intimate moment for both of you so you could express your feeling and enjoying each other in a physical aspect. But quickie ? He couldn’t praise you properly what the point ?

He quickly change his mind when you give him head on storeroom during a training session, after coming from your sweet lips he turn you around back face into him and he would got you around him. After that he started to enjoy this and will initiate it when he’ll have a boner and he couldn’t take it away. But that doesn’t change his opinion : sex in bed Is way better

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Earlier I said that you two have sex in woods one day that give you an idea right ? Like I said Eren is very open when it came to sex so he is always into trying new thing in bed (as long as it’s not bringing someone else). He loves the chill of the fact he could be surprised while he is having his way on you.

One day you were cleaning one of the basement’s room, it was hot so you took your shirt over so you were on a tank top and Eren might have a boner seeing you bending over to catch some dust while wearing your tight pant. One moment later you felt his hand on your ass squeeze it gently while his second hand was on your hips. And before you could even realized he got you on the table, him on you looking at you with nothing but pure love and lust.

that being said he will never try something you are not into it. And he will never put you into situation that you make you uncomfortable.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

Being a soldier for him to work a lot on his body to be as hardy as possible and he willing to use it on you. That being said your first couple of time weren’t as long as he wanted to due to his lack of experiment. He was literally overwhelmed by pleasure. But with times he learned to not end too quickly and he started to last like twenty minute easily without count foreplay. And he can go for two maybe three rounds if he is not too exhausted.

He never get enough of you and sometimes you have to tell him stop cause you were far too sensitive too keep going.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Not really into toys he doesn’t see the point of uses it since he is more than enough to satisfy you. But you own toys he would oblige and use it on you and maybe will he let you use it on him.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

At first he wasn’t much a tease and when he does it that was by accident because he took too much time kissing your body. It wasn’t his intention. But in getting older Eren learned to enjoy teasing you, part of it because he loves hearing you beg for him it makes him feel so important for you. Like he’s the only one who knows how to please you.

Man bun Eren is teaser and he is not afraid to make you crazy about him just to hear you beg for him.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Despite his Dom personality, Eren is a moaning mess : everything felt just too good for him and he couldn’t control himself but moan with you. In addition hearing you moaning his name make him moan. He is loud and he is even louder when you give him head. That’s probably the curses of being passionate you couldn’t control yourself.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

He definetly has a voyeurism kink, he never knows about it until one day it was late, everyone was supposed to sleep now. At least that what Eren thought when he came into your room after a week of not being able to touch you. He took this opportunity to cherish you just the way you deserve it.

But while you were on four and him was behind you giving you his best thrust as he was getting closer to his climax he could swore he saw someone looking by the crack of the door. The thought of someone watching him as he was pleasing you was enough to got him into his own climax but he tried his best to not come. You didn’t know why he does that but you felt it him getting harder on you, one his hand was spanking you just the way you like it while his other hand was on your neck, putting you more in the mattress. His pace was animalistic, you didn’t know where it came from but you sure enjoy it. Eren on the other hand, motivate by the thought of someone watching you, did everything to last as long as possible until he couldn’t take it anymore.

At the end he never knows if someone did actually watch him but he sure enjoy the thought.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

I don’t know if it’s because of his titan DNA but he is sure huge not that monstrous but enough to make you salivate at the thought of him inside of you. He is probably 8,6 inch (length) for 1,5 inch (width).

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Maybe it’s his hormone maybe it’s just him but he has a huge sex drive and much to his dismay he couldn’t satisfy it as much as he wants to. He just couldn’t get enough of you, it seems like no matter what you did he’ll find it attractive. He is really into you : kicking Jean’s ass ? Boner. Bending over to catch something ? Boner. Pressing your chest against his ? Boner. You have a huge effect on him.

Most of the time he can control his sex drive and cool himself before he got a boner but sometimes no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t prevent his boner so he’ll take into the closest storeroom for you to take care of his « problem ».

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Depends on how many rounds you two got, if you got three rounds eren will just lay down on the bed and put you on his chest before falling asleep (not before giving you a quick good night kiss) if he was reasonable he would take time to run you a bath, clean you if you need to or just lay down with you on the bed holding you close and start a talk about anything. You know just to have more time with you.

#snk #aot #attack on titan #Eren Yeager #Eren Jaeger #headcanon #Eren yeager x reader #eren jaeger x reader #eren yeager headcanon #Eren jaeger headcanon #Shingeki no kyojin #Shingeki no kyojin headcanon #Shingeki no kyojin x reader #attack on titan headcanon #attack on titan x reader #lemon #eren jaeger smut #eren yeagar x reader

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lovelikedestiny · 3 years

Text

Snow and Ashes

Booker wants to laugh when Joe almost stumbles into a tree in the darkness in front of him, but the exhaustion weighs leaden in his bones and the past mission pulls the corners of his mouth down with sad certainty. He is content with a snort, which doesn't even sound amused, just wounded and painful.

Every one of his steps carries the weight of the innocent lives they could not save today. His hands are covered in the blood of the children who were killed a few hours ago, the sight of tears smeared faces and empty eyes has burned itself into his mind - because they made a mistake.

It was supposed to be a relatively simple mission: free the detained young women, men and children, and kick the human traffickers into Tartarus. But something went wrong. They made a shitty mistake and now the victims - people who had families who prayed for their deliverance - are dead and the world is no better place.

Booker wants to throw the responsibility of saving as many lives as possible on the ground and trample on it at times like these because he doesn't know how the hell to live with the knowledge that he let people die he could have saved.

The cries for help still echo in his ears, as well as the gunfire and the screams. Pale, non-existent fingers cling to his equipment, begging him to take them back to their families, and Booker almost chokes because his throat is suddenly too tight to breathe normally.

"The tree wasn't there two seconds ago," Joe says in an attempt to loosen the depressed mood that has settled over the four immortals like a threatening storm cloud. But his voice sounds dull and flat and when he straightens the scimitar on his back, his gloved hands shake.

Still, Booker steps in immediately to prevent Joe's attempt to come to nothing and although the words feel like broken glass in his mouth, Booker brings them out. “I bet it was just waiting to hop in your path. So that you would literally be a blockhead."

Joe doesn't laugh, but the grateful look he gives him over his shoulder is enough to take the pressure off Booker's throat a little. At least for now. “Exactly. This forest is dangerous.”

“I heard that beeches are supposed to be particularly smart,” Booker says, straightening the straps of his backpack, which dig into his shoulders as if their failure would make his backpack even heavier.

"Then I'll keep an eye on beeches," Joe says and the weak, narrow smile on his face is atypical for him and his broad grin with the radiance of the damn sun, but Booker doesn't blame him and clings to the much smaller version of this smile.

They've been wandering through the forest for two hours after rushing to leave the place on their mission after they screwed up. It's freezing, the wind feels like little blades in Booker's face, and to top it off, it looks like it is going to start to snow soon. Booker has hated snow since his first death in the icy winter of Russia and after the complete failure today he is not exactly eager to deal with snow.

The darkness has long since settled over them, but the full moon gives them enough light. Booker has no idea what time it is, and he doesn't bother to check. What does time mean when there are people whose time ended today because of them? While they are still walking around and alive despite the bullets that hit them?

At the head of their formation, Andy doesn't seem to be deciding to take a break anytime soon. Her steps are determined and harsh, though she's still limping slightly from the force of the grenade that hit her and Joe.

While her lower body was most affected and it was sheer luck that none of her legs were completely torn off, Joe had been hit mostly in the upper body. His jacket is torn, and his sweater is barely there and dark from the blood and remnants of the intestines that had previously oozed from his open abdominal wall. He protested when Nicky handed him his jacket on the grounds that his hoodie was thicker than Joe's barely existing sweater, but he put it on. And that is sorely needed.

Even Booker is already freezing in his intact, well-filled jacket and the thought of just trudging through the forest in a sweater gives goosebumps to his goosebumps. At least the numbness has disappeared from his left arm, which lurked there since one of the criminal bastards rammed a knife into his shoulder.

However, this does not lessen his exhaustion and if he is so tired, it must be worse for Joe and Andy, who suffered the most severe injuries on this mission. Without a word, he watches as Joe stumbles more and more over roots or branches, which are actually easy to see in the moonlight. And even if Andy continues to keep her tight pace, Booker reads in the way her shoulders hunch that she is drained too. There are still a few miles to go to the place, where the hut they are aiming for to gather from today's loft, is. At least if Booker's brain hasn't completely shut down yet.

There is almost nothing to be heard from behind him and if Booker had less faith in his team, his family, he would be of the firm belief that Nicky would not be walking behind him at all. As he always does, he brings up the rear this night too because he prefers to cover their backs. And although Booker doesn't hear anything from Nicky other than the occasional cracking of branches or the sounds of his weapons, he feels a little better knowing that Nicky's watchful eyes are on them.

When Joe stumbles so hard that he has to support himself on a tree trunk within his reach to avoid falling, Nicky glides past Booker more gracefully than he should be able to with all the equipment strapped to him.

One hand curves gently around Joe's neck, the other carefully grips his upper arm and he asks Joe a question so quietly that Booker can't hear him.

"Boss," Booker calls to signal Andy that they have stopped briefly, and the warrior immediately comes to a halt and turns around to them.

“We can't take a break. The fucking bastards who are still alive could be on our heels and I want to get to the fucking hut before the snow sets so that it can cover our tracks,” she says impatiently, but in her old eyes the hopelessness is visible that Booker currently prefers to drown with vodka.

"Andy, you have to rest," Nicky says quietly, without letting go of Joe, who no longer leans on the trunk, but practically clings to Nicky, even if he tries to look as if it doesn't cause him any problems to keep his footing. "Major injuries take their toll and it is not advisable to ignore your body's signals."

The fact that he speaks so steadfastly and confidently is in stark contrast to the blood that covers most of his face like a grotesque mask. Head wounds have a habit of bleeding like a stabbed pig, and although Nicky's cut was relatively small and healed quickly, the residue is all too obvious.

“It's not wise to take a break while these fuckers might be after us. We pretty much ruined their day because they lost their hostages through us and if they want revenge, I don't feel like dying in this motherfucking forest.”

The effect of her words does not go unnoticed: a muscle in Nicky's jaw twitches, Joe lowers his head as if he wants to hide and Booker can't suppress a jerk of his hands. The truth of Andy's words is like salt in a wound that cannot heal. And it shows Booker how much damage they have done today instead of helping.

The innocent are dead and those who deserve to die may hunt them down because they lost their wares to the immortals.

If Booker's stomach wasn't empty, he might throw up. Purely on principle.

Nicky doesn't look satisfied, but he doesn't argue, and Booker believes this is just because of Andy's demeanor, which is so crooked as if she could feel all her millennia to the core.

They start moving again and Booker is tempted to hold his backpack in front of him to protect himself from the razor-sharp wind that makes his eyes water. After a few meters, Joe sways slightly in front of him, but before Booker can move to help him, Nicky is already at Joe's side.

“Tesoro, you are tired. Give your body a break,” Booker hears him say.

Joe makes an indefinable hand gesture that was originally supposed to be a wave aside sign. "I'm fine," he mumbles, blinking like an owl. Booker, who knows what a deep sleeper Joe is, grimaces sympathetically. “I can go on in five minutes. Just five mnts...” The last sentence is so mumbled that Booker can only understand the content from the context.

Five minutes later, Nicky carries Joe piggyback, his own backpack on the front of his chest. Joe's faint protests are silent now, his head resting on Nicky's right shoulder and his curls brushing Nicky's cheek regularly in the rhythm of his steps.

How Nicky doesn't even falter despite his sword, the two backpacks, the sniper rifle and Joe with his scimitar, is a mystery to Booker, but it is very likely that Joe is the reason. And this tender consideration from Nicky for the love of his life on his back causes a bittersweet pain in Booker's chest.

He breathes on, however, and is relieved that the memories of his wife and babies are not surfacing in addition to today's shit and that the pain goes away as soon as it comes.

Booker really doesn't begrudge Joe and Nicky their relationship, despite the occasional touch of envy, for the two never behave cruelly, never rub their love under anyone's nose, and embrace everyone in their aura of joy. Booker is one of those people lucky enough to experience love from them. In the form of the jokes and hugs from Joe, the derisive comments and headbutts from Andy and the barely visible smiles and blankets that Nicky carefully puts over him when Booker has drunk himself into a coma again.

He is not alone in the sinking ship that the world seems to be from time to time. But sometimes it feels like that.

Because Nicky now carries Joe on his back, he has taken his position in their formation and even if Booker is not often at the tail, he has nothing to complain about. Having no one behind you has the advantage of being able to think about it without having to pay attention to how you appear to the outside world.

It's not the first time Nicky has carried Joe because he's too tired, and Booker has seen it the other way around, albeit not very often. Nicky doesn't retire until he's made sure they're safe and everyone is fine, but when he was injured so badly that he couldn't walk alone and they had to leave, Booker got the chance to watch Joe carrying Nicky.

The familiarity with which the two deal with each other always tells of the length of their relationship without needing words and it is equally fascinating and frightening: fascinating because they are the only people in this world who have been together for centuries and have reached a depth in their connection that no one will ever reach and scary because Booker doesn't want to find out what happens when one of them ultimately dies and leaves the other behind.

Nicky's lowered voice pulls him out of his thoughts, and he is happy about it, preferring to concentrate on something other than his head and what is in it. "Andy, please wait.”

Her leader walks two more meters before she complies with Nicky's request and turns her head to them with a raised eyebrow in question. "What is it?"

Instead of answering her, Nicky turns to Booker and the request in his bright eyes is so clear that, for once, he doesn't have to put it into words for Booker. "If that goes wrong, you'll pick up my remains," Booker grumbles so quietly that Andy can't hear him as he walks past Nicky.

Andy takes note of his approach in silence, but then rolls her eyes when he stops next to her and takes his backpack from his back to put it on his chest like Nicky. "Fuck off, Book. I don't need to be carried.”

Andy's hard shell is easy to see through with centuries of practice and Booker sees her exhaustion as clearly as if it was broad daylight and the lines of tiredness had been circled with a marker on Andy's face. It's no wonder Nicky spotted the signs long before Booker. When it comes to their family, he never misses anything.

“I know you don't need to be carried. You don't have to tell me,” Booker replies casually, but makes no move to put his backpack back on its proper spot. "But we both know who wins when Nicky has a say in this matter, and what we need least at the moment is a discussion with that stubborn man." They both know what Booker is doing, but Andy doesn't address it and Booker pretends not to notice that she got it. "So, it would only be beneficial if we could avoid these problems by letting me carry you, even if you don't need help, right?"

As Booker follows her gaze backwards, Nicky's focus is not on them, but on the sleeping Joe, whom he carefully pushes higher on his back to get a better grip on his legs. But it is no secret that Nicky was still following their exchange closely.

With a low growl, Andy lets out a sharp gush of air through her nose, which rises into the sky in clouds of steam. “For fuck's sake, fine. But if you drop me, I'll break your nose.”

Booker coughs a strange kind of a dead laugh. "Got it." It's not the first time he's carried Andy either, during missions there is no time to make out who is carrying whom with which injury and when she climbs onto his back, he finds her warmth a little comforting.

Read more on AO3 ;)

#the old guard #team as family #Booker #Joe #Nicky #Andy #emotional hurt/comfort #fanfiction #snow and ashes

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cakejots · 3 years

Text

Unstained, Chapter 2

After certain events that happened in the day, Chat Noir revealed to Ladybug that he knows who she is under the mask. Her reactions astounded him. After certain events that happened in the night, Ladybug unveiled to Chat Noir why she can’t do what he asked of her. His reactions astonished her.

Rating: T, Words: 6938. Chapters: 4/4

Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4

Read on AO3

“So, are you going to take my Miraculous away?”

“I suppose.”

Chat immediately stiffened his relaxed posture and whipped his head to look at her, moon-eyed. “You—”

“But, if that’s supposed to happen, I wouldn’t be here talking to you as Ladybug, would I?” Ladybug finally faced him with a small smile hanging on her lips.

Seeing her smile, Chat felt even more perplexed than he already was. “What do you mean?”

“I know who you are, Adrien.”

Adrien didn’t think his day would get any crazier, but it just did. “C-come again?”

“Adrien, that’s you under that mask. Marinette, that’s me under this mask. And I’m not going to take away your Miraculous, silly,” Ladybug, Marinette, teased. She seemed to be genuinely enjoying his reactions to all these.

“Sorry, but this is a lot to take in, I need a moment.” Adrien pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes to internalise this new information that Ladybu—Marinette just dropped on him.

“Take all the time you need, Minou. We have time. But—”

“But we need to move if there’s an Akuma attack,” he recited.

“You know me so well, but patrols rarely have those, so you’re good.” Her attention was now back to the glittery sky above.

Silence, until…

“My lady? M-Marinette? Argh, I don’t even know which to use now! This is all so new to me,” he whined and pulled his hair while making distressed faces.

“You can use whichever you want Chaton, we are still the same person under the masks,” she giggled.

“I’ve got a few questions if you don’t mind?” He asked with hope in his eyes.

“Of course not, go ahead.”

He started to fidget. “How did you find out?”

“Well, it wasn’t like I actively sought out your identity or anything. It just happened, to the point I simply couldn’t ignore it any longer,” she stated.

Chat was looking at her curiously. But he was listening attentively and signalling for her to go on, and she did.

“Wow this is such a long list, where do I even begin?” She mused.

“Start from your earliest memories of it?” He suggested.

“That’s a good idea. Remember when there was a design competition for bowler hats and your father—”

Chat gagged.

“—got to decide which is the winning piece you’ll wear for your next photoshoot?” Ladybug raised an eyebrow.

Chat’s eyes widened with realisation and nodded. “It was the first time we fought Mr Pigeon.”

“Yeah. And Chat Noir was sneezing non-stop due to the allergies he had against feathers. Guess who I found that had the same allergies after we defeated the Akuma?”

Chat blushed.

“But it wasn’t enough of an evidence to give away that you’re Chat Noir. After all, plenty of people are allergic to feathers.” He nodded. “Next, was when as Chat Noir, you worked with Marinette to take down Evillustrator.”

“Oh! So that’s your secret mission. How did I expose myself? I’m pretty different in and out of the mask.”

“Indeed you are. Thing is, no one knew Marinette and Chat Noir worked together that night. Yet, Adrien-you approached Marinette-me and asked what I thought about Chat Noir.”

“Please tell me there’s no more of my reckless behaviour that could possibly scream Adrien Agreste is Chat Noir,” he grimaced.

“You’ll be surprised,” she winked. And he groaned.

“Those two might have been coincidences, but not this next one. Does ‘Tom Style: Booyah!’ remind you of anything?”

“Wow I really need to stop being so careless, who would have thought!” Chat was hiding his face behind his hands.

Ladybug started listing more. “There’s also that time where Jagged Stone tried being a baker on a reality show, and basically flashed my room full of Adrien’s photos on national TV. And you were acting all smug about it the next day, very Chat-like might I add. And our train ride to London, Chat Noir—”

“Okay, okay, I get it. I leave tons of clues, sheesh.”

It was quiet again and Ladybug went back to admiring the many glimmers that hung above. Ladybug sensed a change in the mood surrounding them and hoped that he wouldn’t ask what she thinks he’d ask.

“So, how long have you known?”

And there it was. “You know how long, Adrien,” as if pleading him to drop the questioning.

“Yeah, but do you know since when?”

“S-since the first year we got our Miraculouses,” she confirmed, hugging her knees.

“Is there a reason why you didn’t tell me in the first instance possible?” He asked gently.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you, Adrien. I do, I really do, but Master Fu said… he said our identities must remain a secret.” Ladybug tried to reason with him.

“I know you do, and I have no doubt about that. And Master Fu did say that, didn’t he? But you still knew about Rena Rouge and Carapace.”

“They were needed for our battles, and you knew about Queen Bee.” But her determination was wearing thin, and she knew she wasn’t making any sense.

“And so did you.”

Ladybug kept quiet and was looking at everything else but Chat.

“Marinette, if identities were so important, Master Fu would have made sure you didn’t know about Rena Rouge’s and Carapace’s, you know that.” Adrien's voice was really soft, the softest it has been the whole day. “Queen Bee was an unfortunate case that the whole of Paris knows.”

She still wasn’t looking at him.

“Marinette, is there something you’re hiding?” Chat shifted towards her.

And yet, she didn’t utter a single word.

“My lady?” He had begun to hold her as he witnessed her eyes welling up.

She wiped her tears with the back of her hands, but they continued falling.

He looked at her earnestly before he went ahead to wipe her tears with his thumb, mindful of his claws. Chat then placed a hand at the back of her head, and pulled her into his embrace, rubbing circles on her back. He figured that if she didn’t want to talk about it, the least he could do was calm her down.

“I-I’m guessing that you figured out my identity this afternoon? When y-you were almost akumatised?” She started.

Ladybug felt a nod at her shoulder, and she continued.

She heaved a deep sigh and wrapped her arms around him. “In… in another timeline, we knew each other’s identities in the first year we got our Miraculouses. And we were in love.”

Chat went rigid with his ministrations.

“I… I don’t really know the details, but it… it was our love that destroyed the world.”

He felt a vicious chill spread through his core. Chat pulled back to look at Ladybug, eyes conveying desperation that this where it stopped, that it couldn’t possibly get any worse than this.

Ladybug held his gaze for a while before looking up. “This moon above us, it’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

Chat didn’t know where this was going, but he looked up nonetheless. The moon was indeed very pretty, gleaming brightly against the clear blue-black sky that made sure all focus was on it.

“In that timeline, this very same moon was split into half," she paused. "By you. Akumatised you.”

Chat whipped his head back down to her, gaze wavering as a feeling of disorientation blanketed him.

Ladybug fiercely pulled him back into her embrace, instantly regretting the way she had delivered the news to him. “Do you see it now?” She wept. “The reason why I was so hesitant to reveal myself to you?" She gripped on him firmly, afraid that he'd run away.

Chat’s vision had turned blurry, and he squeezed her. “Then why did you reveal yourself now? If you knew this was going to happen.”

“I… I figure the reveal was going to happen sooner or later, and y-you were akumatised because of something entirely different. And honestly, I am so exhausted about everything.”

They basked in the silence together, sniffling and trying to stop their tears from flowing.

“So what are we going to do now?” Chat whispered.

“I really don’t know, I’m just glad that you didn’t get akumatised and I didn’t have to fight you.” She hugged him tighter than what he thought was possible.

Chat slowly pried himself away from her to look at her. With his hand at the back of her head, he pulled it forward and kissed her forehead. She froze.

“Adrien, what are you doing?”

“I love you.” Ladybug opened her mouth but he cut her to it. “You’re always thinking about others even while going through hell all by yourself. You’ve been through so much. I’m so sorry for not being there for you, and I thank you for sharing this with me, Marinette. I love you, so, so much. For being so brave, for being all that you are.”

Her tears flowed down her face like a river escaping a dam, comparable to the speed of her thoughts running through her mind. All the ‘could haves’ she might have experienced with Adrien if it wasn’t for her fears. And the possible devastation that may happen if she went ahead with what her alternate self did.

“Adrien, I don’t know if you know this, but I love you too, romantically. Ever since the first day we’ve met. But...”

To say that didn’t break his heart would have been the joke of the century, but…

“I understand Marinette,” he smiled weakly, “but please stop pushing me away. Even if not romantically, I want to be there for you every step of the way.”

“I’m doing fine Adrien...” She looked away.

Adrien felt disheartened. But he didn’t want to give up, not yet, never. He cupped her face to look at him.

“Marinette, you’ve been waiting all this time, haven’t you?” Marinette didn’t think Adrien’s voice could go even softer than before, but it did. “Since 3 years ago, for someone to save you from this helplessness, for someone to share this burden with you. Let me be that person for you.”

Marinette sometimes could perfectly explain what she saw in Chat. His desire to lighten up other people’s day, his unyielding trust in her, among many many others. But other times, she wasn’t able to, because it was indefinable. It’s just the way he was able to take her to places where no one else could. Maybe, it's time she finally let go of all the burdens she has had and shared them with someone, with her kitty.

“I’ll always be here, my lady.”

She raised her arms to hold his face in her hands—

“I am so sorry.”

—and pressed her lips onto his.

#mesfics #miraculous ladybug #fanfic #mlb fanfic #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #ladybug #chat noir #post chat blanc #hurt/comfort #unstained

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writing-ideas-inc · 4 years

Text

Short Story by _roxy.carp_ on Instagram

"Zeus, please..." she whispered to the sleeping god. "Please just let me be enough for you. I'll do anything."

“Anything? Really?”

The voice startles Hera. She looks up, surprised to see someone perched on the bedroom window sill. She's half-hidden behind the thin white sheer curtains, but Hera instantly recognizes her smile - her perfect smile.

Hera whispers, angry, “Aphrodite.”

Aphrodite's smile widens, and she jumps off the window sill to enter the room.

Her long white chiton falls perfectly on her body, and the gold jewelry she wears contrast beautifully with her tanned skin. She's gorgeous, and Hera hates her so much.

“Yes, my Queen, me. But I didn't come alone, don't worry.”

A small warm wind enters the room, shaking Aphrodite's curly hair, and Hera feels like a sultry voice is whispering secrets in her ear.

She turns around, and Eros is leaning against the wall behind her. He looks thoughtful, and bows to her. “My queen.” He is as beautiful as his mother.

An ornate bow and quiver are hung on his back, and Hera chills at the thought of being hit by one of his arrows. They both come forward, as silent as predators, and an indefinable tension sets in the room.

It's a strange scene, the one that takes place in the bedroom. The three of them are turned towards sleeping Zeus, Hera kneeling and leaning over him, and Eros and Aphrodite on the sides of the bed. She imagines for a moment what would happen if he woke up, and shivers again.

It's Eros' turn to speak, in a silky soft voice. “You would be willing to do anything for his love, really?” His words are like a caress on Hera's skin, and she turns her desperate gaze to him.

A playful finger brushes her bare shoulder and Aphrodite is beside her, seductive. “Such dedication is well worth a reward ...”

Dedication, she said, realizes Hera. Not love.

The finger is replaced by lips, which deposit a kiss as light as a feather, and then Aphrodite takes a step back. Hera is almost disappointed by the loss of warm that Aphrodite emanates, then blames herself for having such thoughts.

She feels like a prey stuck between the paws of two felines who want to have fun with her, and she doesn't even have the strength to defend herself. Eros holds out his hand, and his blue gaze almost locks her in place.

Aphrodite purrs. “Come with us.”

Hesitant, awkward, Hera gets off the bed, and grabs Eros' hand. He's warm, like his mother, and Hera wonders if it's because love should be like that. For her, love has always been a dagger of ice stuck in her heart.

Aphrodite seems to hear her thoughts, and her smile softens. She brushes a strand of hair away from Hera's face, and Hera feels so desperate. She just needs love. She's ready to beg for it.

Aphrodite takes her other hand and whispers, soothingly. “Don't worry, my Queen, everything will be fine.”

Hera lets herself go in the aura of love emanating from the two gods, and closes her eyes as a warm wind blows them away from the bedroom, and from sleeping Zeus.

————————————————————————-

Based off of prompt by Krystal:

Everyone knows Hera as Zeus’s wife and Queen of the Gods and Heavens. She has the life that many yearn for. Yet, she’s as jealous and bitter as she is powerful. Why? Maybe it’s because she’s the goddess of marriage, yet hers is crumbling before her eyes. Maybe it’s because she constantly compares herself to the nymphs and maidens Zeus sleeps with, or perhaps it’s because it reminds her too much of her parent’s corrupt marriage. Either way, her facade of a strong goddess had shattered in front of her husband; she was simply a maiden desperate for love now.

“Zeus, please...” she whispered to the sleeping god. “Please just let me be enough for you. I’ll do anything.”

#short story #shared story #Greek gods #Greek myth #Greek mythology

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steves-on-a-plane · 3 years

Text

The Safest Hands

*Slight Spoiler* For Falcon And The Winter Soldier Words: 1383 Pairing: Former!Sam Wilson x Reader Summary: Reader is the Eldest daughter of Tony Stark and the former fiancé of Sam Wilson. After the government announces its plans for Captain America, Reader pulls together the best plan she can manage to get the shield back. Author’s Note: I’m loving everything that's happening so far with TFAWS, and it gave me the idea for this fic where Reader is a lawyer who tries to say Steve had no legal right to the shield.

Courtrooms are nothing but theaters with bad actors in cheap suits. That was the first piece of advice your father had given you when you told him you wanted to become a lawyer. You were surprised by how true that turned out to be. Not so much the part about the suits being cheap, but the theatrical side of it for sure. You always tried your best not to play into the theatrics, unless it was the last resort.

Sure as hell hope this works. You thought as you shuffled papers at your table. You’d been in the courtroom for almost an hour. It seemed crazy to you that Supreme Court cases were decided so quickly. While corporate trials lasted weeks or sometimes months, the fate of a historic mantle would be decided in less than ninety minutes. You drank a sip of water from the glass in front of you. It was warm and tasted metallic, like someone had filtered it through pennies. You took a measured breath and waited for your turn to speak.

“So, as you can see by the evidence provided,” You began your closing statement. “Captain America’s iconic shield never legally transferred to Captain Steven Rogers. When Howard Stark passed, ownership of the shield was moved to the beneficiary of his estate, Mr. Stark’s only son, Anthony Stark. While under Anthony’s ownership the shield was stored in various facilities including being on loan to S.H.I.E.L.D. for several decades. Sometime in 2011, the shield was then loaned indefinity to Captain Rogers as shown in the asset transfer form submitted to the court. This form was signed by Captain Rogers, Nicholas J Fury and Anthony Stark. However, Captain Rogers terminated any rights to the shield following his refusal to sign the Sokovian Accords, as the original terms of the loan stated the shield would be reclaimed by Mr. Stark in the event the weapon was linked to a known crime in anyway. Therefor it stands to reason that since Captain Rogers had no legal right to the shield, he could not legally gift the shield to Mr. Samuel Wilson. Since Mr. Wilson was also not the legal owner of the shield, he could not legally donate it to the Smithsonian museum, which the government has since claimed the shield from. Rightfully, that shield belongs to the estate of Mr. Anthony Stark.”

“Thank you for those impassioned words, Ms. Stark.” The Chief Justice remarked. His tone was condescending, but you weren’t quite sure if that was intentional. “We thank you for your time as the court knows how personal this case is for you. We must hear our next case now. I expect you’ll have your answer following our next conference.”

With that the trial was over. There was nothing more you could do but wait for the justices to confer and deliver their opinion. You began gathering your things and exiting the court room. You’d presented every shred of evidence you could find. Proof that legally the shield had never transferred fully into Steve’s possession. Proof that Stark Industries still held pattens on all previous versions of the shield as well as several prototypes. Your father’s company or his estate also maintained pattens on every iteration of the Captain America Uniform. You could stop them from creating a new Captain America in everything but name.

You’d barely exited the Supreme Court Building when your phone rang. Sam Wilson’s name scrawled across the screen. You heaved a deep sigh, wishing this whole ordeal was over with already. You ignored Sam’s call, too preoccupied with dodging the press who were swarming around you. You gaze in the distance, relieved when you saw a familiar face. Happy Hogan met you at the base of the steps and helped you int the backseat of the car. You secured your seatbelt as he slipped behind the steering wheel and drove away.

“They were live streaming the courtroom.” He told you, not looking away from the road.

“Of course, they were. Vultures.” You complained, as you watched the reporters get smaller and smaller in the rearview.

“Can you really blame them? The whole country wants to see how this ends.” Happy told you.

“Wish it was over already.” You mumbled from the backseat. You answered a text from Pepper, asking if you were okay. You assured her that you were fine and that you’d been seeing here and Morgan soon. You just had a few things in DC that needed tying up. Again, your phone began to ring. It was Sam. You silenced it before tossing it across the seat.

“You know he’d be proud of you, Kiddo. They both would be.” He assured you.

“If they weren’t both so stubborn, they’d still be here. Not leaving me to fight their battles for them. Which for the record, I stayed away from the tech industry specifically so that I wouldn’t turn into my father and…GAh!” You couldn’t help but let out a small exclamation of frustration. “Here I am throwing around the family name and exploiting thin as ice legal loopholes to get the stupid shield back! A shield that Sam was at best too humble and at worst too stupid to keep. Even if you don’t use it, man, just do the one thing you know Steve would have wanted and keep it away from the government! Aside from the fact that it’s classified as a deadly weapon, the thing’s got enough vibranium to buy you a decent house. Or If you want to give it to a government don’t give it to ours! Bring it to T’challa….”

You phone was now vibrating loudly as it skidded across the car’s leather back seat. You took a brief pause from your rant and finally answered the phone. You didn’t even bother looking at the caller ID. Only one person had been blowing up your phone all morning.

“What, Wilson?” You snapped at him.

“Hey, Baby, nice to hear your voice too. Long time no see.” He cackled from the other side of the line. You pinched the bridge of your nose and exhaled a deep breath.

“Sam, now’s not a good time…” You told him.

“C’mon you’ve been dodging my calls all morning.” His tone finally changed to something serious.

“You didn’t think that was for a reason?” You snapped.

“Oh, I know the reason. You think I’m going to ask you about the trial.” He laughed.

“Aren’t you?” You sighed.

“Nah I saw the whole thing on TV.” He assured you. “You look great by the way, very Stark-like.”

“Yeah, well the hot rod red power suit probably did most of the leg work there.” You sighed. “What do you want Sam? Happy and I are on our way to the hotel.”

“Any chance you want to join me for dinner?” He asked.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to be seen together. I’m suing you remember?” You reminded him.

“So we just make sure no one sees us.” You could practically hear him shrugging. “Besides you’re only technically suing me. Once all the dust settles with the federal case we get to pretend we agreed to something outside of court. Then everything goes back to normal and you don’t have to pretend you’re mad at me anymore.”

“Let me be clear about something, I’m not pretending to be mad at you. I’m furious.” You told him sternly. “This isn’t like the time you bleached my favorite shirt. I’m not just going to get over it. You really messed this one up, Sam. I’m not fighting this fight for you and we’re lucky we didn’t go through with that proposal of yours, because if we were married right now, I’d have no hope at all of getting that shield back.

“It won’t kill you to say that you missed me too, [Y/N].” He said.

“I miss a lot of things Sam.” You told him. “But not all of us have the luxury of walking away from a legacy. Stark out.” You ended the call and tossed your phone again.

Everything’s gonna workout exactly the way it’s supposed to. Your father’s final words echoed in your head as you stare at the window.

“Probably not this time, Old Man.” You whispered to yourself.

#tfaws spoilers #TFAWS #TFAWS Fan Fiction #TFAWS Fan Fic #TFAWS FF #Sam Wilson #Daughter!Stark #Fan Fiction #FF #Fan Fic #Reader Insert

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dreaming-about-fanfictions · 4 years

Text

Love and Cat Pee - Leonard McCoy x Reader

Words: 1952 Pairing: Leonard McCoy x Reader Warnings: None, just a lot of fluff.

A/N: My Tag list is old. Please tell me, if you want to be removed! Some of you seem to have changed their usernames so I’m sorry if I didn’t tag you in this story. Tell me if you want to be added <3

Some days, being able to work on the Enterprise was the best thing that ever happened to you. You got to travel, see new planets, and meet people from all over the universe.

On other days, being able to work on the Enterprise made you wish you had stayed back on Earth in your hometown, working in your family’s little shop, instead of almost dying 200 light years away because you accidentally drank from a wrong glass.

Today was one of those days.

“Sit her down over there,” Captain Kirk ordered and two Security officers grabbed you under your arms, helping you sit down on a bench. “Kirk to Enterprise. Enterprise, please come in.”

“Enterprise. Scott here.” You heard a faint voice coming from Kirk’s communicator.

“Scotty, be prepared to beam Lieutenant Y/L/N up. And tell Doctor McCoy to get ready to treat a patient with Ladocsris poisoning.” After Mr. Scott acknowledged, he closed the communicator and looked down at you, frowning. “How are you feeling, Lieutenant?”

“Horrible, Captain” you managed to get out. You writhed in pain, arms tightly clutching to your side. It felt like someone had stabbed you with a burning hot knife right in your stomach and now continued to twist it around. “Am I dying?” you asked with gritted teeth.

Kirk shook his head. “You’re not going to die from this.” He suppressed a chuckle and shook his head. “Why the hell would you drink that, Lieutenant?”

“Certainly not because I wanted to spend my day in sickbay!” You wiped away sweat that had formed on your forehead. “Excuse me, Captain, but – fuck!” Another wave of pain washed over you.

The Enterprise had delivered some medical supplies to this planet and as a thank you, the crew was invited to join their Spring Festival. Because the ship was on a tight schedule, a landing party consisting of only six people beamed down to avoid coming across as disrespectful. At one point, you were all offered drinks. There were two different glasses on the table. You didn’t correctly understand which one you should take and since everyone was involved in conversations, you didn’t want to interrupt and ask. So you just took one.

Kirk looked at you sympathetically when you closed your eyes in pain. “Do you know what it was?”

“What?”

“The drink.”

“No, why?” You opened your eyes in suspicion.

“Well,” he looked down to hide the obvious amusement in his eyes. “They have this giant cat-like animal on the planet. It’s a sign of fertility because …. because its urine is basically the best fertilizer you can get.”

You stared at him, words slowly starting to make sense in your head.

After a few seconds, he continued. “Even though it’s not meant for drinking, they still collect it for their Spring Festival. It’s like a … religious thing.”

“You mean … You mean, I just drank …”

Kirk nodded.

What happened next was probably the worst thing you had experienced since the day you started working for Starfleet. You felt it coming up in your throat but it was too late - with a groan you leaned forward and vomited. All over your Captain.

***

When you woke up again, the pain was gone. It was replaced with a slight dizziness and a faint headache.

You tried to sit up, realizing you were in sickbay. Oh, you hated it here. That’s why you had become an expert of skipping annual exams and basically coming here at all. Not because you were afraid of them, no, that wasn’t it. Simply, because since day one you had the biggest crush possible on one particular Doctor – and you didn’t know how to deal with it. At all.

“Don’t get up just yet.”

Speaking of the devil.

Doctor McCoy appeared from behind a curtain. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” you mumbled, avoiding eye contact. Of all the professionals working here, he had to treat you? “Just a headache.”

He nodded. “That’s normal. The heada-“

“Oh, she’s awake!” Christine Chapel interrupted. Apparently she was on the way somewhere, carrying various blood samples in her hands, on her face a big grin. “You’re feeling better?”

“Mhm,” you nodded, slightly confused.

“That’s good to hear!” The grin didn’t fade when she walked away.

Furrowing your eyebrow, you looked over to McCoy. He kept his eyes locked on a hypo in his hands but you didn’t miss the amused sparkle in his eyes.

“What is it?”

“Mh?” The doctor cleared his throat, injecting you with the hypo. “The headache should disappear within a few hours. I will keep you here for a bit longer and run another test but I believe you should be fine.”

Another nurse kept passing by, nodding at you with a big wide smile. Ignoring what McCoy had just said, you answered: “I’d like to think everyone is just really happy to see me here but I’m sensing it’s something different.”

“I don’t know, maybe it has to do with you vomiting all over our Captain,” McCoy said casually and shrugged. “Just an idea.”

Oh fuck, was the only thought running through your mind when you suddenly remembered.

“Ugh,” you let out a loud groan and dramatically placed your hand over your eyes. Why did those things always happen to you?

On the last mission, you had accidentally pushed Chekov into a lake with a reddish color which resulted in him having a weird rash all over his body for two weeks and red hair. Now you not only drank something you wasn’t supposed to and probably sabotaged the whole shore leave, you decided to throw up on Kirk afterwards.

“I sabotaged the whole mission,” you scolded. “Fuck!”

“Watch your language in my sickbay. I’m the only one allowed to curse here.” The doctor was still standing in front of you when you removed your hand from your eyes. “Now stop being so dramatic, that corn-fed goblin –“

“Corn-fed goblin?” You interrupted.

“Yes.”

“I thought it was green-blooded goblin and corn-fed idiot.”

“Sometimes I like to vary a little with my insults.” He gave you a half smile before continuing. “The Captain will be fine. Jim had worse things on his body than vomit. Believe me.”

You frowned. “Do I wanna know?”

“No.”

A sigh escaped your lips. “I still have to apologize though.”

“Probably.” He turned to his instruments, shuffling things a little while you stared at the ceiling. “The crew won’t let you live that down, be prepared for that.”

You made an indefinable sound.

“I won’t either.”

Great. As if the embarrassment hadn’t already reached its highest point for this month.

“One of the security guards has also the opinion that you could’ve turned away if you wanted to. Now people are wondering why you didn’t do it.”

“How do you even know so much gossip?”

He shrugged. “My nurses talk a lot.”

You shook your head in disbelief. “Why I did it?” You scoffed. “Oh I don’t fucking know – excuse my language – maybe because I felt like it. Or maybe it was just me trying to get here so I can confess my love to you!”

Doctor McCoy put down the instruments and turned around again. “Well, was it?”

Realizing what you had just said, you kept your eyes locked on the ceiling. “No!” You denied, with probably a bit too much force in your voice. “Of course not. I mean. No.” You felt heat rising to your cheeks.

“Right,” the man replied. You didn’t see the smile on his lips. “Maybe I’ll just let you rest for a while, alright?”

“Maybe my headache will actually disappear then, Doctor.”

He left with a chuckle.

***

You weren’t able to sleep after he had left, so for another hour you were just staring at the wall, listening to regular beeping noise coming from the instruments.

You weren’t sure which event of the day was the worst but the more time you were thinking about it, probably the latter. He knew. He wasn’t supposed to know but now he did and you a part of you was – aside from being embarrassed – terrified. Yes, you had a crush on him but it was the kind of crush where you just admired him from afar. Nothing would happen between the two of you. But now that it had slipped from your mouth, it was real.

“I brought you something.” The curtain got pulled away and McCoy came in.

Oh no.

You lifted your head from the pillow. He was holding a small cup, which he placed on the small table next to the bed. A delicious smell ascended from it.

“My favorite tea?” You asked him a bit puzzled.

“Yes,” he smiled at you.

“How do you know?”

“You always drink it.” He simply said.

“You noticed?” A warm feeling began to spread in your stomach.

The doctor nodded.

“Well, thank you.” You took a sip of the tea. It was still hot, but not hot enough to burn your tongue. Just perfect.

“So about earlier –“

You almost choked on the liquid. “Please, don’t. I’ve been humiliated enough for one day.”

“I know,” McCoy chuckled. “That’s why I wanted to ask –“

“What?”

“Damn, you really need to stop interrupting people.” He shook his head.

“Sorry, please finish,” you mumbled and lifted the cup to your lips again.

“I wanted to ask if you’d like to have dinner with me tomorrow. Dinner as in … a date.”

This time you choked for real. You started coughing and Leonard was luckily fast enough to get the cup from your hands before you spilled hot tea all over yourself.

“So is that a yes?” He asked when you calmed down and were able to breath normally again.

You stared at him with mixed emotions, not quite believing that Leonard McCoy actually asked you out. Goddamnit, you were acting like a lovestruck teenage girl not like a full grown human and Starfleet member. “Yes.”

“Fantastic!” There it was again – the smile that Leonard McCoy almost never showed. It lit up the whole room, you thought. “Normally I’d take it slow and wait for a few more days before doing what I’m about to do next but you have already confessed your love for me so –“

“Oh, please stop it!”

“– so there’s no real reason to wait,” he finished his sentence with a smile. McCoy took a step forward so that he was now standing directly next to your sickbed.

“Wait for what?” You asked furrowing your brows. He already asked you out on a date. There was really nothing more he could do to make this day any better.

Slowly Leonard leaned down towards you and before you realized what was happening, you felt his lips on yours. The kiss was slow and tender and made you feel dizzy. His lips were soft, much softer than expected, and you wanted to melt when you felt his hand cupping your cheek. Apparently there was something he could to make this day any better. Two seconds later, the kiss was over. Leonard pulled away and looked at you lovingly. You were out of breath.

Suddenly his smile vanished and he grimaced.

You felt your stomach plummet. What happened? Were you that bad? Did he already regret asking you out and kissing you? “Did I do something wrong?” You asked, your voice barely audible.

“No, no, darlin’,” he reassured her quickly and lifted his hand to his mouth. “The kiss was … something else.”

“But?”

“But I think I can still taste a hint of that cat pee drink on your lips.”

***

My Masterlist

Send me a message if you want to be added to or removed from the tag list! Tag list: @goingknowherewastaken , @waitingforthestarstofall , @imoutofmyvulcanmind , @whatif-animagineblog , @loverbug1123

#leonard mccoy fanfiction #leonard mccoy x reader #leonard mccoy aos #star trek fanfiction #star trek aos #bones x reader #Jim Kirk #jim kirk aos #astrids fics

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tsuki-chibi · 5 years

Text

Fictober Day 4: I know you didn’t ask for this.

“Seriously? Seriously?!” Chat burst out the second Ladybug hit the ground beside him.

“Umm... what?” Ladybug said, shying away and eyeing his flailing hands nervously.

Chat flailed harder. “Does Hawkmoth have no respect for our personal lives?! Does he even realize that he has the shittiest timing ever?”

“Well no, probably not,” Ladybug said. She’d been both frustrated and pissed off when the distinct sound of screaming broke into the delightful conversation she and Adrien had been having over cake.

She hadn’t wanted to respond, but she was Ladybug. No matter what else was going on, her duty to the city never changed. It had been a little bit easier when people had started fleeing the café and Adrien had ordered her to hide before taking off himself. She was too grateful for the opportunity to be able to transform to really question why they couldn’t hide together.

Chat’s frustration, oddly enough, softened the edges of her own. Ladybug sighed. “Look, I know you didn’t ask for this and neither did I. Let’s just... try to make it quick, yeah?”

He nodded with a fierce, intent expression she didn’t think she’d ever seen on his face before. He grabbed his baton and used it to launch himself into the air. Ladybug watched him go, curious. What could he have been doing that would illicit this kind of response from him?

“Ladybug, come on!” Chat shouted.

“Oh! Right.” She took her yo-yo in hand and followed him.

For once, the battle didn’t last long. Chat was unusually focused. He didn’t joke around or flirt with her like he usually did, and it left Ladybug feeling weirdly unsettled. She didn’t even realize she missed his dorky puns until the perfect moment for one passed by without Chat saying a word.

When the purified butterfly was flying back to wherever it had come from, Ladybug turned to look at her partner in bemusement. His attitude today was so unlike him that she couldn’t help wondering if something was wrong. He was holding out his fist for her to bump, but she refrained.

“Are you okay?” she asked as her miraculous beeped.

Chat shot her a puzzled look. “Yeah? Why?”

“You called me Ladybug,” she said, and she didn’t even know she was going to say that until she already had. But it was true. She could count on two hands the number of times that Chat had called her that. It was always ‘LB’, ‘My Lady’, ‘Bugaboo’, ‘Buginette’, ‘Bug’, or any of the other myriad of nicknames he had for her.

His puzzlement deepened. “It’s... your name? Well, one of them anyway.” He shook his fist pointedly.

Ladybug frowned but reached out to bump her fist against his. Her ‘Bien joué’ was much less enthusiastic than his was, but Chat didn’t seem to notice. He flashed her one of his typical charming grins.

“Until next time. See you!”

“What...?” Ladybug said to his back, shocked. Chat never left until he had to. He always lingered after battles, especially when he hadn’t used his Cataclysm like today. She was almost always the one who left first.

Her miraculous beeped again and she hurried off herself, confused and, if she was being honest, a little hurt. She made it to a quiet, private corner of a street and detransformed in a flash of red light.

“Marinette? What’s wrong?” Tikki asked.

“Umm... nothing,” Marinette said, fetching a cookie from her purse and handing it to her kwami.

Because what could she say? So Chat had been a little off during one fight. And now that she thought about it, he’d been off during their last patrol too. But that didn’t necessarily mean anything. Everyone had bad days sometimes. God knew she and Chat had way more pressure on their shoulders than the average person.

“You don’t look like it’s nothing. You look upset,” Tikki said.

Marinette shook her head. “It’s nothing, really,” she said with a smile, deciding not to worry about it. Surely Chat would be back to his usual wisecracking, flirty, nicknaming self by their patrol tomorrow night.

Tikki didn’t look convinced, but finally nodded. “You should hurry up. Adrien is probably waiting for you by now.”

“Oh my god, Adrien!” Marinette clapped her hands to her face. “I forgot!”

She immediately rushed towards the end of the street and turned right. The café was only a couple blocks over, but half a street down Marinette heard a familiar voice calling her name. She slowed and turned to see Adrien running towards her.

“You’re okay!” he exclaimed. “I’m so glad.”

“I’m fine,” Marinette said, surreptitiously scanning him. Much to her relief, he looked okay too. Today’s akuma had been more about destruction than anything, and she’d spent most of the battle lowkey worried that Adrien hadn’t gotten out of the area.

“That’s good.” Adrien caught his breath and smiled. “That was quite the akuma, huh?”

“I didn’t really get a good look at it,” Marinette lied. “I’m not like Alya. I don’t run towards akumas.”

Adrien laughed. “I’m really happy to hear that. I think Nino’s had several heart attacks because of Alya doing that.”

Marinette’s heart beat a little faster. Nino and Alya were boyfriend and girlfriend. Was that how Adrien saw them? Was that what he wanted them to be?

“I always tell Nino he’s gonna have grey hairs by the time he’s thirty,” Adrien went on.

“I always wondered why he never takes his hat off,” Marinette replied, which just made Adrien laugh harder.

“I’ll have to remember to say that to him,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “So... I guess our date got ruined.”

Marinette shook her head. “Not ruined. I had a lot of fun. And I got something to remember it by,” she added, holding her bags of fabric up.

“I had fun too,” Adrien said. He seemed pleased, even as he looked at her uncertainly. “Do you... maybe wanna go out again?”

“Yes!” Marinette said, thrilled. “I’d love to.”

“Great. I’ll have to look at what my schedule is like, but I’ll text you.” He smiled again. “Can I walk you home?”

“Sure,” she said, her heart racing with glee. Even in spite of the akuma, he’d enjoyed the date enough to want to go out again! She was so happy she could’ve flown home.

Adrien walked her to the bakery, where they both stood awkwardly. Marinette clenched her fingers around her bags, adrenaline and nerves making her antsy. Would he kiss her? Should she try to kiss him? Was it too soon for that?

“Thanks a lot for going out with me,” Adrien said finally.

“Anytime,” Marinette said, meaning it. Before she could second-guess herself too much, she darted forward and leaned up to kiss his cheek - just like she had after the disaster that was Heroes’ Day.

But this time, Adrien’s eyes widened. He stared at her for a moment before he blushed, pink spreading across his cheeks. Marinette memorized the adorable image that was Adrien Agreste blushing (because of her!) as she backed towards the bakery’s door.

“Goodnight, Adrien,” she said.

Adrien looked at her with something soft and indefinable in his expression. “Good night, Marinette.”

#fictober19 #adrien agreste #marinette dupain-cheng #chat noir #ladybug #pre reveal #miraculous ladybug

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kattloaf · 3 years

Text

Awakening

I don’t think we should do this.

Such was Four’s continuous consensus as she stood at the edge of the clearing, casually leaning a shoulder into a tree trunk, arms folded.

We all agree that learning this, and how to better use it, is in our best interest. All of us. Even you.

Speaking without a true voice, as was her way, Three quietly paced the clearing, the soft grass unbowed as she strode. They were both naught more than mental projections, presenting their self-images in the world without truly having a tangible presence.

You did agree that we should pursue this, Four.

Two, as per usual, sat on the ground idly looking over a blade she held in hand. She didn’t look up from her work with the weapon, claiming a small whetstone and making rhythmic strokes along the blade’s edge. It was unnecessary. A formality that belonged to someone wishing to maintain social decorum. Two had no need for that. They were, after all, parts of a greater whole. The other parts knew to whom, if anyone in particular, she was speaking to.

Four’s immediate response was to roll her eyes and shrug.

I get that, but I don’t like what this entails. You don’t know what you’re agreeing to. Trust me.

“We do trust you, otherwise we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” One, sitting atop the mostly flat stone that was nestled in the center of the clearing spoke audibly, the deviation from a purely mental dialogue putting the matter to rest. Kat’s other selves took the cue, and began to vanish from sight. Only Four lingered, shaking her head with an almost rueful demeanor.

Fine. Fine. Just… this isn’t going to end well. For all of us.

Settling in, Kat sought to quiet her mind. Such was no mean feat, considering there were four distinct voices that made it up. Since the inception of their mental organization, they each had been afforded the ability to work on and ponder matters while others were either resting or taking the lead externally. Such an arrangement was terribly efficient for learning and problem-solving, but it left something to be desired in their present pursuit. Being still, relegating her selves to complete inactivity outside of the expressed goal, was exceedingly difficult. It was, however, the path that had been chosen; and so, as a collective, she set to achieving true inner quiet.

It was a laboriously slow process, at first. Normal meditation allowed for other parts of her mind to toil away quietly, and thus was easy compared to this new venture. Every birdsong, every chittering of the forest life, brought to bear a mental catalogue of what creature made the noise, and whether it was a threat. Every shift of the wind or change in the light as clouds passed over invoked thoughts on weather patterns, and if, perhaps, it would rain unexpectedly. Every snapping branch or twig heralded a spike of adrenaline, and a call to alertness that was frustratingly appropriate, if unwanted.

Her first day was spent this way, making a small stride towards achieving the goal of inner quiet, only to take two strides backward. Some might get discouraged, making so little progress for their efforts. Kat was not one of those people. To her, this was simply a challenge to rise to and overcome. She had endured a great many things. Training herself to have some additional self-discipline was hardly an insurmountable task.

The second day was similar to the first, though with more forward progress than backwards faltering. It was not until the third day that true, tangible headway was noticeable. Finally reaching the point where the whole of her mind was stilled, she was able to expand her focus. Conceptually, it was not unlike trying to feel out a room when trying to be stealthy. You used your senses to their furthest limits, seeking out the small hints and clues that were present. It was even more similar to listening to the wind, a talent she had, entirely unintentionally, developed during her normal meditations. So, unsurprisingly, it was the wind she heard first, its fluting, whimsical presence cavorting through the leaves and branches overhead, a consistent -but not unchanging- sound that provided a foundation for every other sound in the clearing.

The next sounds to become discernible to her were the aged groaning of the trees. Their leaves and branches shifted and rustled, so capriciously toyed with by the wind, but the beams and trunks let out a deeper, more profound call. It was the sound of decades, even centuries, of slow and patient growth, of basking in the sun’s warmth and weathering the violent storms. Of observing the fleeting lives of the creatures of the Shroud and remaining. Those lives were quickly spent, flitting about from place to place, experience to experience. Not the trees, though. Their stalwart, unmoving nature provided a longer view of existence. A view that sang low and strong beneath the ocean-like ebb and flow of the canopy’s voice.

Days passed, and with the passing of each day Kat’s awareness of the song, and it was a song, being perpetually sung around her grew. Vyalise, the one who had set her on this path, described nature as having a song, one of balance and harmony. It was only the faintest, most ephemeral of glimpses, but Kat began to hear this, and to recognize it for what it was. There was something else, though; a growing sense of pressure deep within her. The need for something, some force to be released, or some action taken. What exactly, she wasn’t certain, much less what she could do to address the issue. What she could do, for now, was to continue to listen, and hope that such answers would come to her in time.

A full sennight passed in her isolation. Each day, more of the harmony of life became clearer and more discernible to her. One day she had committed entirely to listening to and understanding the way the birds’ songs and lives weaved melodic strains into the greater harmony. Another had been devoted to the staccato scurrying of squirrels and other small animals, underpinned by the tireless, nigh endless toil of the insects that positively crowded the clearing. Bringing her internal chorus to silence, Kat became able to hear and, to some small degree, understand the music of life around her; how each individual part wove into the greater melody in a harmonious fashion. It was only a beginning, she knew. She was far from the level of inherent, inane comprehension that Vyalise had, but it was a significant step in the right direction. And yet, there was something lacking to her. A voice that, as she listened to and scrutinized the symphony around her, was absent. More and more she understood that the voice that was missing wasn’t something around her, but something from inside her. The voice missing was her own.

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Her time in the clearing had been well-spent for Kat, but the world did not stop just because she was fostering personal growth. The Institute had a meeting that had, in her time spent in the clearing, approached rapidly. She would not rush the process, she knew that led to poor and improper development more often than not. She did, however, begin to labor with the knowledge that time was a factor. As her final day in the clearing dawned, she knew that she needed to do something more. Having realized her own voice was the one missing, she began to listen.

To listen in her yet-amateurish manner, understand and appreciate the harmony of the world around her was one matter. It was another matter entirely to add her own voice to it. Throwing herself fully into the song of life around her, she strained to immerse herself. And she failed. Again and again she tried to push her way into it, that she might add her own melodic strain, but each time she found herself lacking. There was an alternative, however, in that indefinable something within herself still wanting to be released. So, with several more failures and a shortening of time remaining to her, she let her mind and body relax, and opened herself to the song once more. This time, for the first time, she succeeded. The inscrutable, undefined sense of impetus and pressure within her at long last found the means to pour out. It was something she was, on the surface, utterly unfamiliar with. Deep down, in the recesses of her mind and, indeed, soul, there was a recognition. A familiarity. A rushing tide of sensation she hadn’t known was resting within her was being released.

And it hurt.

It was standing over a shallow grave in the pre-dawn gloom, her fingers raw and bloodied, fingernails cracked and torn. Knowing that they should be aching furiously, but not feeling them at all. No one would know where he was buried. No one would care. Just another street rat devoured by the gnashing maw of despondency that was Radz-at-Han. No one but her.

It was being pulled out of a barrel by her shorn hair, moments after being blinded by the light of the lid being removed. Her whole body was numb but for her lungs and throat, which ached with the deep-set pain of physical exhaustion. She didn’t know how long she’d been left in the barrel, sealed inside with water that rose to allow only a few inches of empty space. There was a hole for fresh air, but it did nothing to alleviate the dark, wet, hideously cramped confinement. Forced to stand and shuffle away, her body came alive with pain. The aches of stiff joints and muscles were set ablaze in unison as the air warmed her, the movement made her stretch. It was agony. But it was also nothing.

It was laying on her back yet again, swathed in silken sheets as the man atop her went about the business he’d paid an exorbitant sum for. Her body made the correct motions, her lips made the right words and sounds. It was what she -what they- were good at: making people feel how they wanted to feel. Inside, however, deep in a place that was quickly becoming forgotten by even the most enduring remnants of her psyche, something whimpered as it died just a little bit more.

It was all of these things, and so many more. Stacked and layered upon one another, each memory with its own unique flavor of suffering that only added to the grander sensation they were part of. They gave the abyssal tide that was swelling within her nuance and texture, making certain that each distinct taste was felt as sharply as it had been the day it first happened. This flood of sensation washed over her, through her, utterly, drowning her in the depths of its expansiveness.

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She wasn’t sure when she finally became aware of her surroundings again. Her first sight was that of wilting grass brushing against her nose, the shades of green and brown awash in an orange light. The sun was setting, she realized slowly. It had been near midday when… it didn’t matter. Then there was the matter of an odd noise that, she realized, was coming from her own mouth. It was a single held note, hoarse and faint from enduring so long, but undaunted in its perseverance. Clamping her mouth promptly shut, she pushed herself into a seat on the grass. Hadn’t she been on the rock? Pondering this displacement of her self, she only then realized that the clearing had something peculiar about it. It was perfectly, utterly silent.

There were no leaves rustling as the wind danced through them, nor were there the tired creakings of the obdurate trees that encircled her. No birds sang their songs of love and warning. Not a single creature stirred, either in the underbrush, or in the boughs above. Climbing to her feet, she slowly strode around the clearing, suddenly alert for anything amiss. And there was indeed aught amiss. The grass, so verdant and alive that morning, was wilting and browned. Not dead, but dormant and weak. The leaves above also had begun to wilt, their edges curling inward as yellows and oranges began their death march from edge to stem. She nearly stepped on the first animal she came across. It was a squirrel, its form curled in on itself as it shivered and twitched. Its eyes darted manicaly, its little nostrils reddened with flecks of blood as it panted desperately for air. Kneeling down, she reached out hesitantly to stroke the creature’s fur, to try and soothe it. In that moment, whether through panicked ‘fight or flight’ response or from what held it in place being gone, it writhed and sprinted away abruptly. Skittering up the trunk of a tree at the clearing’s edge, it turned to look at her, chattering away in what was clearly a scolding manner before scurrying off. Did I do this?Such was the first truly coherent thought she had. Until this moment she had simply been… existing. Her mind stilled as she took in the world around her. Still, it was a valid question, all considered. The response came weakly, as from far away, and not for no insignificant amount of time. It was, strangely, neither Four nor Three, but both speaking in unison.

Yes. It was us.

In that moment, another wave of that cascading, obliterative anguish of the soul struck her. Gasping, she fell again to her hands and knees, then to the ground, where she curled in on herself. It gnawed at her, eroding her cognizance of the world around her, of the tentative birdsongs that were beginning to return as the avian choir recovered from their own sojourn with anguish. Lost to the world, drowning in the pain of a life lived without reconciling the condition of the soul, she wept.

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ships-inside-your-head · 4 years

Text

of kisses, mistletoes, blood and tears

pre-U.A. vampire!AU. TOSHINKO. slight dad might. | She used her quirk, just a little, to bring him down faster, which seemed to surprise him, because he coughed just a little bit before her lips were on his. It was supposed to be short, no longer than a second, but ... he tasted of blood. He tasted really good.

of kisses, mistletoes, blood and tears

It was a story that everyone already knew. All Might saved Izuku's life on that fateful day, destroyed his dream and left him alone. Izuku saved Bakugou, even if he couldn't call a quirk his own, which led All Might to choose him as his successor. Then the hell training started.

His mother Inko was amazed at her son's sudden change of heart, but not sad, because finally she had a chance to support him in his dream - he would not stop, she had to find that out, so there was nothing she could do but help him to get better. She and his mysterious trainer, whom he had told her about, but whom she had not yet met. Then Christmas approached and it was Izuku who came to her in a low voice but with determination and asked if his mentor could come to visit.

Inko stopped moving and blinked at him. “I wouldn't mind, Izuku. But ... have you asked him if he would like it or if he has time? ”She asked cautiously and he shook his head. "I need to know if you'd basically allow it ..." he murmured, and she gave him a slight smile. “It's good, baby. Have you drunk your ration this week? ”She said, pondering before shaking his head. He smiled ashamed and rubbed his neck. "No, I completely forgot about that ..." he admitted.

“Then please take care of it and don't spill anything! You know how hard blood gets out of the furniture!”

"Of course, mom!"

❀

Three weeks before Christmas, Izuku finally dared to speak to his mentor. "All Might?" He said to the blond man who was paying attention to the boy.

"What is it, my boy?"

"My mom and I would like to invite you for Christmas ... but of course only if you have no other plans and only if you want to!" He then hurried to say and failed to look at his mentor, who was watching him intensely the boy and looked thoughtful. "You don’T have to-"

"I'd like to come, my boy, but ... she only knows that I'm your mentor or also ...?"

“Oh, no, no, I didn't tell her about your job. But she's also looking forward to getting to know you!”

"I ... I can hardly imagine that," Toshinori said dryly, but Izuku grinned at him. "Yes, she thought you were a good influence on me!" The older man snorted amused. "I hope so. Would be bad if I weren't. ” His eyes fell on a half-destroyed television. "My boy, you can put that away next and remember, always out of your knees!" Grinning motivated, he hurried to the device to move it onto the truck. "Do you know when exactly?"

"Not yet, but I'll ask my mom today and then write it to you!"

"Okay. Back straight!"

"Yes, sir!"

❀

"Mom, A–, my mentor would love to come, he just needs the details."

Inko smiled at him. “That sounds wonderful. It'll be a change to cook for three people, ”she said cheerfully, and her mood was lowered when she saw his doubtful face. "Izuku-baby? What is the problem?"

"Um ... he doesn't have a stomach anymore ... he can't eat a lot anymore ..." Inko's thoughts stopped when she heard that. "He has no-?"

"No, and he also lacks a lung, which is why he spits blood every now and then, so you should try to ignore that, I'm used to it."

»That ... that's awful! Please ask him what he shouldn't eat under any circumstances! I will then come up with something else. He'll be allowed to eat something, 'she said, and he nodded eagerly. "I will ask him!"

“Do this, baby. Oh and the neighbors brought some mistletoe over, would you please hang them up? I have to put the laundry together quickly. «

"Of course, mom."

❀

Then finally the time had come, the first day of Christmas was half over and Inko's nerves began to lie bare. Izuku was no help, who seemed just as excited. »Izuku, please ... calm down, you make me very nervous, «she said and Izuku froze in his movement. “Sorry mom, but I'm just as excited as you are to meet him and what he thinks of you! So much could happen, what if - 'then he started to murmur again, so she put her hand on his shoulder, which tore him back into the here and now.

“Quiet, baby. I will like him for sure, ”she appeased him and he took a deep breath. "I know, but still ... and please, don't stare at him like that, he's not necessarily the most beautiful person in the world, okay?" He tried to warn her, but she looked at him unimpressed. “Izuku… you told me that he no longer has a stomach… I can imagine that he looks a little starved. Everything will be fine. «

The boy said nothing more, but still looked worried. Instead, he preferred to help her prepare, which she gratefully accepted. So the day progressed and slowly changed to evening when the doorbell rang. Immediately Izuku ran to the hall, leaving his mother surprised before she made her way to the entrance to greet her unknown guest.

The figure that presented itself frightened her. He was huge, even for a foreign standard, had wild blonde hair, shaded eyes, a sunken face and a matching emaciated body. She wondered how he hadn't broken down yet. He looked as if a light breeze could knock him over.

So she couldn't help but stare at him in disbelief. That ... was Izuku's mentor? She could hardly imagine it, but her baby had grown stronger in the past few months, gained muscle mass, so this man had to do everything right. She watched him as a wide, happy smile spread across his face and he stroked Izuku over the wild head before hugging the older one like a long-lost friend. The man hesitated for a tiny moment before returning the hug with a gentle expression - as best as he could.

Then they let go and his eyes fell on her. Only now did she realize that his eyes were shadowed, but still shone like electrification ... she was captivated by the intense expression in his soul mirrors. It seemed to be the same for him, because they didn't say a word, but ... just looked at each other. But then his attention wandered around the room as if he was looking for ... something. An exit? Potential dangers? He didn't appear to her as someone who often relaxed. Not at all.

So it happened that she was standing in the door frame between the hall and living room when he finally took off his shoes and put them aside neatly. Izuku, on the other hand, looked like a frightened animal back and forth between them.

“Mom, that's Toshinori Yagi, my mentor. A - um, Mr. Yagi, this is my mom Inko Midoriya, ”he hurriedly introduced them to each other, probably to break the oppressive silence between them, but he didn't seem to be able to do it completely. The blonde took a step closer and she could smell the blood that stuck to him, which Izuku had warned her of. It was ... stronger than she thought, but still tolerable. Then he stood right in front of her and held out his hand, which surprised her at first, since it wasn't the typical Japanese greeting, but she let it go. He clearly looked too American from the features on his face, he probably didn't know any better.

With a slight smile, she returned the gesture and looked up at him warmly. He had greeted her son warmly and he was so happy to have him, so she would show him the same unbiased kindness.

"Hello Mrs. Midoriya," he said, and she was surprised that his voice was so deep that she hadn't expected it - it was pleasant. "Please, just Inko, this is a small family gathering and you are our guest, Mr. Yagi." He chuckled to himself. "Then just call me Toshinori." He tilted his head slightly and then brushed something that made him look up in surprise. Inko did the same. Her eyes fell on the mistletoe that Izuku had attached to it some time ago. She blushed. She had completely forgotten that he was hanging there, even if her baby gave her a kiss on the cheek every time the two of them were under it at the same time, but he did that in daily life too, which is why she hadn't thought of it. But now…

Toshinori looked surprised and Izuku made an indefinable squeaking sound as he stared at them both with wide eyes. "I'm sorry!" He said, which is why the blonde looked at the boy in surprise. "Why are you sorry, my boy?" That was ... English? So definitely a foreigner. Who had Izuku himself involved with?

'I hung up the mistletoe! Now you have to kiss! ”, She couldn't say whether he thought it was good or terrible. His face was just contorted by his emotions. "My boy, we don't have to if your mother-"

"Izuku is right!" She blurted out and she knew Izuku was the same as she thought. "If you ignore that, you will be hit by a great misfortune, which can end in death!" As ridiculous as it sounded, but ... they were both superstitious. They had to take every precaution and hope that no outsider who shouldn't know or who was a government official would know. Her family had an agreement with the government, but she was not responsible for independent third parties. Izuku and she probably looked so helpless and horrified at the thought that the blonde just sighed and nodded. "Well, if that's all ... but I actually thought it would make you uncomfortable ..."

"I'm much more worried about the possibility that something bad could happen!" She said, looking up at him worriedly. His eyes softened and he leaned down to her. Inko recognized it for what it was: a quick way out of the misery that would otherwise come. She used her quirk, just a little, to bring him down faster, which seemed to surprise him, because he coughed just a little bit before her lips were on his. It was supposed to be short, no longer than a second, but ... he tasted of blood. He tasted really good.

Inko sighed into the kiss as her hands clung to his shirt collar to hold him in place. She had closed her eyes to fully enjoy this taste. She couldn't help but deepen the kiss because she tasted more blood and she was hungry as always and who was she to refuse an offered meal? Especially since he could kiss really well for being so unwilling

"Mom!" Someone called, and only a second later did she realize that it was Izuku who was looking at her worriedly. Inko let go of his mentor and just stared at him. He stared back in amazement before blinking in confusion. "Why are your eyes red now?" He paused and she gasped. "Oh no, I didn't want that!" She said plaintively and now let him go completely. She took a helpless step backwards to gain distance between them before pouncing on him again.

"I'm really sorry, please forgive me, but I tasted your blood and couldn't control myself for a short time -"

"What does my blood have to do with it?" Toshinori asked confused, looking at her seriously. "U-um ..."

"She thinks you taste good, is what she wants to say ..." Izuku interjected again, his face bright red and she was sure that she looked similar. Now the older one looked alarmed. "My boy?" He sounded stern when he looked at her son and seemed to be asking for an explanation. Her baby looked at her with pleading eyes. "Mom, I'll tell him," he said only, and she gasped. "Izuku! Are you sure?!"

His helpless look was resolved and he straightened his shoulders. "Absolutely, Mom. I trust him completely." Her previously tense figure collapsed slightly and she sighed. "Okay, but I hope you are fully aware of the consequences," she reminded him, and he nodded confidently.

"Then comes. We can discuss that during dinner, ”the two hurriedly followed her into the living room, which was already festively set. "Can at least someone briefly explain what the problem seems to be?" Asked Izuku's mentor, piercing the two Midoriyas with his eyes. Izuku and they looked at each other briefly before lifting to speak.

"Have you ever heard of vampires ...?"

His surprised look was worth its weight in gold. And again he coughed slightly because of his surprise, which is why some blood stuck to his lip again, which he instantly wiped away and she mourned the few drops of this valuable life juice. Her hunger came through again and when she realized that, she pushed that desire into the back corner of her mind.

"I do, but I don't know anyone personally, but I know that there are a few families whose identities are kept largely secret."

Inko was surprised. "Then you know more than most of the population."

»I've been working for the government for a long time - you hear a lot. But what do vampires have to do with you? You're not…? ”His voice grew softer and he stared at the small family in disbelief.

"Yes, Izuku and I are vampires and we ask you not to tell anyone else."

There was silence as Izuku's mentor thought about it. Her heart was racing like crazy and she was sure that her baby was doing the same. "Have you ever hurt anyone to get blood?" It was amazing how loud they both could be. "No!" So loud that the blonde winced once. “The government knows about our family, and we get a pack of canned blood every week so we don't starve and go nuts. But we don't get any more, because otherwise we would simply fall into the blood rush-”

"For normal people, it's like being addicted to drugs and wanting more and more," Izuku said, and although she always appreciated his interjections, it wasn't the best time to do it. "Baby, please."

"Sorry mom."

"Everything we eat is legal and controlled, we don't hurt anyone, we do everything we can to avoid attracting attention and I ask you ... don't spill our secret." There. She had done it. She had opened up to a complete stranger, entrusted her greatest secret, which even her late husband hadn't known, just because Izuku wanted to trust him. For both of their health, she hoped that this man had a spark of honor in his body to keep silent about it.

"Please, let me continue to be your student!" Izuku began to cry, and every instinct in her wanted to take him in her arms to comfort him, but she was frozen, unable to leave. She had to know first whether he was a danger or not. If so, they would have to go ...

"My boy ..." the older man started, and they fell silent and would listen to what he had to say, even if their baby shed tears as if he was mourning someone. Her heart ached. She hoped it wouldn't happen to him that way. “My view of you has not changed. What you are does not change who you are: a hero. ”Her breath caught and Izuku sobbed loudly. He looked at his mentor tearfully, who took him in his arms. Her baby started to cry loudly and clung to him as if he were driftwood in the open sea.

Inko, on the other hand, could only stare at this man ... why did he give her baby such hopes that he could become something he is not and probably never will be? "Why?" Her voice trembled. His eyes fell on her. “Why are you giving him such hopes, when he doesn’t-? She choked on the word, didn't want to say it so as not to hurt Izuku anymore, she had it too often.

"I know, and yet I firmly believe that he can do more." He looked at her so resolutely and with confidence that her legs grew weak. She breathed a sigh of relief. "B-but I don't know how ..." she admitted, looking at him doubtfully, tears were now gathering in her eyes, but he only smiled at her before placing a hand on her shoulders. "Thats why I'm here. We'll do it together. ”

That promise was ... like music to her ears. Her heart started to tbeat a little faster and she had to think of his lips again - and not because of the blood.

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qqueenofhades · 4 years

Note

Kitty & Nathaniel - 29?

Kitty tries to shut the door quietly, before Nathaniel can wake up. She doesn’t want to disturb him, even as some small, annoying part of her can’t entirely trust that he won’t have vanished into thin air if she doesn’t check. Having the entire Glass Palace and the full might of the Other Place crash down on you is not known to be a salubrious activity, and he’s slept for the better part of a week, even after the bandages came off. He looks… rugged, to say the least. The Night Police might hire him on the spot, with his scars and his haunted eyes and his indefinably older, terrifying, mysterious air. Not wolfish exactly, but not human either. They’re talking about naming a Tube station for him. John Mandrake, on the District Line. Seems rather cheap for saving the world.

He is still asleep, but there is a stack of papers on the bedside table that seems too large for get-well cards, and Kitty has been going to go, but she can’t resist the old instinct to see what exactly the magicians are up to. She steps inside as quietly as she can, avoids the creaky floorboard, and picks up the papers, shuffling through them. Damage reports for the various sectors of London, lists of the dead and missing, known connections that Makepeace had to magical cabals in other countries, anything they might need to look at, to ensure this never happens again. She’s impressed, but she also wants to strangle Nathaniel. Why is he looking at this right now? Just can’t help himself? Or he’s done with the heroic, selfless lark, got it finished, and is desperate to race off and be Mandrake again? She doesn’t think so, but –

At that, Nathaniel stirs, cracking a bleary eye as if sensing the heat of her disapproval in the room. Kitty struggles to put the papers back, but it’s too late. He coughs, trying to sit up. “What are you doing here?”

“I was just…” Kitty wonders if it’s more mortifying to admit to a genuine concern for his health or to snooping in his private papers. “I was passing by,” she says. “What’s all this?”

Nathaniel raises an eyebrow at her, still managing to be an insufferable bastard from his infirmary bed. She should push him, or something, though it doesn’t feel like fair play for a bloke still picking glass out of his teeth. “Why do you need to know?”

“Maybe because – ” Kitty huffs. “You nearly died, and you’re still here reading endless stacks of Government reports? There’s no one else who can do it, you’re just determined to – are you going on for the rest of your life, stumbling into respectability and having to be dug out again? Because if so – ”

She comes to a halt, angry and oddly upset and unable to articulate exactly what she’s saying, even as Nathaniel is blinking dumbly. He seems to be trying to parse whether this means she’s actually worried about him, and a small smile appears on his lips, which does something unwelcome to Kitty’s insides. She looks away – he does not get to see that, thank you very much, even as a voice inside her asks how much more punishment he needs, having already had the entirety of a venerable Victorian edifice collapse on him. Surely he has proven himself beyond all doubt. But if she isn’t deliberately short and cool with him, she could be something else altogether, and that –

Well. That is definitely not happening.

“I’m not racing back to be Mandrake, if you were wondering,” Nathaniel says, reading her mind with unsettling precision. “But there aren’t many other people on their feet right now either, or at least none with the same concerns. At least if I’m the one reading those reports, I can make the appropriate suggestions to help the people of London. The commoners,” he adds, with a sharp look at her. “I’m sure there are plenty of magicians’ committees ready and willing to fix this and put everything back just the way it used to be, themselves on top and to hell with everyone else, and I’m not letting that happen.”

Kitty discovers that her mouth is hanging unflatteringly open, and shuts it with a snap. Of all the reasons she expected him to offer for this zealous devotion, tender concern for the common masses was not one. But he’s sitting here, looking old and haunted and extremely handsome, he’s determined to work himself to the bone even while half-dead to make sure that the magicians can’t just go back to business as usual, and she doesn’t know what to do with any of it, and it tears at her until she can’t breathe. She’s not good with this, she’s never let herself. She misses Bartimaeus. He’d have something stupid to say here and break the tension, or point out what Nathaniel’s overlooking, or what she is. She misses him sometimes until she can’t stand it. But that too will pass.

“Oh,” she says, rather weakly. “Oh, I – I see.”

Nathaniel gives her a wry, weary look. “You really had to come here just for that?” he asks, leaning back against his pillows. “Check my paperwork?”

“I was…” All right, Kitty thinks, it won’t kill her if she admits to some concern about a friend. “I just wanted to see how you were doing.”

Nathaniel groans, as if to ask what she expected. She finds herself lingering, fussing, tucking the covers up and making sure there’s a tray of food that he can reach, and as he glances up, their eyes meet in a moment far too charged to be mistaken. He clears his throat, making rather a meal of it. Then he says gruffly, “I’m fine, Kitty. You can go now.”

“Okay.” She looks back at the papers, at him, at the stripes of late-afternoon sunlight on the floor. She wonders what he would do – what she would do – if she suddenly leaned down and kissed him. Punch her just in case it was a trick, perhaps, since she’d certainly do the same to him. Their hands brush as she straightens his pillow one more time. Her chest aches, and she does not even have the excuse of the Glass Palace falling on her, of sharing her body with a djinni, of saving the world. “Okay, I’ll let you get some rest.”

He keeps looking at her, and she looks back, and for a moment, there is an awareness shared between them that perhaps one day she will not leave, she will stay, and then things might be very different and dangerous in an altogether new way. But that day is not today, and he does need to sleep, and Kitty has never thought of herself as a coward but something about this is the most terrifying yet, and so she goes.

(september prompt list)

#bartimaeus trilogy #nathaniel x kitty #prompt fills #anonymous #ask

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imhereforbvcky · 5 years

Text

Vivid - Part 3

Masterlist - Series Masterpage

Summary: Have you ever met someone who completely embodies a color? Not an aura, not synesthesia. Just… They walk into the room and when you spot them, you think to yourself, “Wow. That is a walking hurricane.” When Clint Barton serendipitously meets a free-spirited stranger, he sees red. Chapter: You and Clint have become that indefinable thing between friends and... well something more. Or less, since you’re both too anxious to push through that barrier. Can a relationship grow anyway?

Warnings: I guarantee there’s swearing. There usually is. That’s about it, just a load of fluff and cuteness with a side of nerves.

Word Count: 2637

A/N: I’m laaaate with this, I’m sorry! I had some unexpected visitors who wanted to take a 7hr (each way) camping road-trip over the weekend. So I didn’t have time to queue this up. Anyway, here we go! Two goofs, two dorks, two relationship idiots, dancing around each other! Let’s go!

The last few millimeters of coffee swirled in your mug, mixing thick foam and heavy chocolate with the final precious bits of caffeine. Your friend scowled at you from across the petite round café table.

“So who is he?”

“Hmm?” You set your phone down beside your now empty cup, loopy smile hooking one side of your face into a lazy grin.

Nina circled an accusatory finger around your face. “That!” Then she pointed to the phone. “Who is he?”

“Don’t judge me, just because you’re Fort Knox.”

“I stash my precious golden heart behind a heavily fortified vault for a reason. People are greedy and rough, especially with someone as careless as you. I’m just looking out for my friend,” she finally sighed watching you check your phone again. “You keep diving head first without looking how deep the water is, you’re going to break your neck one day.”

“Maybe, but at least I’ll know what the water feels like.”

“I don’t… even know what that means,” she frowned, picking at her crème brûlée. “We’re mixing metaphors.”

“It means I’d rather get a little bruised looking for love than to hide from it forever and feel nothing.”

Nina’s frown dipped into a disgruntled scowl. “I feel things.”

“Oh you definitely do,” you teased, dipping a spoon into her dessert. “You feel very nervous when you’re happy…”

She sliced at your spoon with her own, defending her treat.

“You feel uncomfortable when you think people you care about are too happy.”

“I just don��t want to see you hurt. Again.” She argued.

“But then you wouldn’t get to say, ‘I told you so.’”

She rolled her eyes, but grinned. Nina did love to be right. “So? Who is he? Need to make sure he’s worth the leap.”

“We’re not even—he’s just a friend right now.” You explained. Then smiled excitedly, bouncing in your seat. “But I kinda like him.”

“Yeah I figured. That dopey grin kinda gave it away.” She tapped your phone. “Why do you only see him in the middle of the night? Seems a lot like the last one if you ask m—“

“They’re nothing alike,” you snapped.

Your friend cocked an eyebrow: half challenge, half interest.

“It’s not like that,” you shrugged. “We have coffee at the 24-hour diner, or eat pizza on a stoop,” you explained, a little grin sneaking in. “We just talk. Or we don’t. He’s good. And it just… comes easy, ya know? He makes me laugh, when I’m 2am heavy.”

Nina sighed and pushed her empty dessert dish away from her. “Please just… look before you leap this time.”

“Where’ve you been?”

Clint jumped at least a foot. The canister of coffee grounds clattered to the floor and rolled until Natasha lifted her toe to stop it under foot.

“Why so jumpy?” she probed further.

“’Cause there’s a spy in my apartment,” he grumbled, tossing his keys on the counter.

“Well?”

“Just went for coffee.”

She opened the cupboard to put the new canister away beside the other 6 unopened tins. “You know, for a SHIELD agent, you’re a terrible liar.”

“Why are you checking up on me, Nat?”

“You missed movie night.”

“Oh shit. I’m sorry, I forgot.”

“And last week you forgot about Burger Monday.”

“I know, I’ve been dropping the ball lately…”

“My friend Clint would never forget about In-n-Out.”

He chuckled when he realized she wasn’t mad. Not completely. More concerned, and interested, and upset he was hiding something from her. Which was fair, he didn’t keep secrets from Nat. Not ever.

“So tell me.” Her voice was gentle, asking not demanding. “Who has you so distracted?”

Clint trudged to the worn out couch and flopped into it, before toeing off his ever-untied boots. “Just a friend. I got carried away.”

“No,” she argued, curling up on the other end of the couch. “You blew off your friends. This is something else. You like this person.”

“I should’ve been at movie night.” He shook his head and let it drop back onto the cushions. “You’re my family, I should be there. And besides, you know how I am about relationships. It was a mistake.”

“You must really like this mystery person,” Natasha observed, tilting her head to study her closest friend.

“I do and now I’ve said it out loud it’s real and I wish I didn’t, ‘cause now I’m definitely gonna screw it up,” he mumbled, tossing his forearm over his eyes. If he closed his eyes a minute longer, he could imagine a world where he got to have nice things. Good things and good people worth having. People like you would stay and he wouldn’t have trust issues. So he kept his eyes shut tight and his arm stubbornly heavy over them. “I wasn’t thinking. It just… felt really good to be around her, you know? For a second I forgot.”

“Clint, I think it’s a good thing for us to forget. Forget the past, forget the present – what we do. We can’t carry it forever. It’s a good thing: figuring out how to move on. And if you can find someone to do that with you… Well I’d say you’re one lucky guy.”

He flopped over, letting his head fall beside her and his feet curl up behind his knees and sighed. Reality again, dim in his cheap midnight apartment, messy in more ways than one. “I don’t know how to take care of a relationship like that. Growing up like I did, and now doing what we do… I’m always waiting for the other shoe to drop, you know? Always fighting something. I’m just gonna ruin it.”

“Clint,” She pressed long cool hands against the sides of his face, and craned her neck to look down at him. All he could see were clear green eyes that bore straight into the core of him, knowing, understanding, and simplifying. “Love isn’t war.”

“I don’t even know her that well. We’re not…” his eyes darted anywhere but what he was sure were all-seeing eyes. “It’s not love.”

“But that’s the end game right,” she cut him off. “You like her, and it might go that way. You need to remember that it’s not war, and it’s not torture. That might be what we’re used to, but this isn’t supposed to tear you apart. It’s not tears and bruises and blood. It’s work, but the kind that makes you softer. That person should make you lighter, bring you peace.”

“She’s like a damn helium balloon.” The hint of a smile came unbidden. There was enough levity in just the thought of you to tug it over his lips, crinkle at his eyes.

“Then stop looking for grenades.” She let her hands drift away from his face, and the seriousness faded with the warmth. “Enjoy… whatever it is while you have it.”

Clint sighed. Natasha was right, and he often needed her to kick him in the ass with this kind of thing. It was why they were such great friends. She got it. But that didn’t make it easier to actually do.

“And give me a name so I can vet her.”

“Nat!”

She shrugged. “Just looking out for my friend.”

“You busy?” Your voice was bright coming through the phone as the elevators closed behind you.

“Uh…”

You chewed the edge of your nail to near oblivion. Taking Nina’s advice, launched you way out of your comfort zone, and that hesitant, non-committal answer did nothing to assuage your anxiety.

Clint, with the phone still to his ear glanced over his shoulder down the range. It was his turn to lead training, but when your name turned up on his phone, he’d have taken any excuse to bail. Could he feign a sprained ankle? He was clumsy enough…

Natasha glanced at him, with a question in her creased brow as she retrieved her paper target and began circling her shots. Tony stood frowning down range. He’d been complaining that he should be exempt from target practice since his ‘super-power’ came with heat-seeking missiles. Really, he just hated losing.

Clint’s entire body hunkered low, phone pressed to his chest when he heard the high-pitched whine of a repulsor-ray.

“Bull’s-eye. I win.” Tony grumbled before storming off. The target had been blown to hell. The frame holding the target was nothing more than smoke. The hillside behind the row of targets had a fresh gouge of scorched grass and upturned dirt.

Clint and Natasha shared a glance and she rolled her eyes.

“Clint? Hello?” his phone chirped in his hand. “You there?”

“Uhm,” he tried again. “No. No, I’m not busy. Not anymore. What’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted with a nervous laugh. Clint was already walking quickly back toward the compound with a haphazard wave at Natasha. “I finished up early at the office and I just missed you. Is that weird? It is a little,” you rambled. “Anyway, I know it’s still daylight, and that’s not really um… our thing. Shit, this was dumb. This is like that embarrassing rambling voicemail that you delete and try again 4 times except you answered and now you have to hear it and I have to live with the memory. This was so dumb! I should let you go.”

“No!” Clint found himself cringing at the force with which he’d spoken. But he absolutely did not want you to let him go. “No, it’s fine. It’s nice to not be the only idiot around.”

There was a silence and he slapped his palm to his forehead. He just called you an idiot. His head dropped back and his face scrunched while he fought back a grown, wondering if anyone could be a bigger idiot than him in that moment.

Mercifully a chuckle finally broke through from on the other end of the line. “We’ve definitely cornered the market.”

“Mhmm.” He dragged a hand down his face, still unable to release his cringe enough to form real words.

“So do you wanna…?”

“Yeah,” he managed. “Yeah, give me an hour. What’d you have in mind?”

“I could use a cuddle.”

An hour and fifteen minutes later, Clint stood in the tiny tiled room, waiting. You were already sitting on the floor, feet curled up under you, jittering in anticipation. One minute, you were clapping excitedly, the next shoving his shoulder, the next dancing on the spot.

Something between a chuckle and a scoff passed his lips. This was a horrible idea for so many reasons.

It was also brilliant.

And anything that made you this happy, he decided, was well worth his time.

“How often do you do this?” he asked.

You beamed up at him. “Often enough that the front desk gave me a volunteer form this time!”

“This is crazy. You’re crazy.” His words didn’t have any sting. No bite. It was a fond sort of acknowledgement.

“Okay, are you ready to meet Arrow?” the shelter employee asked, peering around the corner.

“Um, yes!” You clapped with glee as she opened the little gate and ushered the dog into the room.

He immediately bounded over, drawn to your excited energy.

“Oh! I’m in love already!” you exclaimed as he wiggled and romped around on the floor beside you.

“I’ll give you a little time,” the employee smiled, ducking out.

“This is just cruel,” Clint argued, crouching down to ruffle the dog’s ears. It abandoned you almost immediately, leaning into Clint’s hand.

“No it isn’t! They sit in cages all day, they need love as much as I do.” Your voice was a goofy croon as you pet the overly friendly yellow lab.

“I meant cruel to me!”

You laughed and Clint eased down onto the floor beside you. He was entirely preoccupied with Arrow, scrubbing his ears, gently shoving the dog’s chest back, grabbing at a lazily thrown paw. They wrestled in the tight space like they’d been doing it for years.

You, on the other hand, could only take in the completely unburdened smile that lit up Clint’s face. It made you glad for the warmth of his arm squeezed against yours in the narrow space. The familiar heat of his skin was like an extension of his joy.

Clint absorbed you entirely in his calm steady happiness, a cool sort of comfortable that spread through your veins, rather than the frenzied red rush you had spent so long chasing, had spent so many tears watching slip through your fingers. This was different, and new, and something you hadn’t known you’d wanted. It was a chill up your spine and soft glint in his eye, a light flutter in your stomach.

You startled when the dog leapt to the side and knocked him wholly against you from knee to shoulder. Clint didn’t flinch, didn’t withdraw, would never have thought to. He was warm and comfortable, and you were something good and bright he liked being close to. You amplified the parts of each other that sometimes got lost in the chaos. Here in this tiny tiled room with the bounding energy of a shelter dog between you, that balance swelled. The room seemed full of it and the stress of the day crowded out with ease.

“Sorry,” he turned to you with a smirk as the dog plowed into his gut with a braided rope toy. “I’m hogging the puppy. You needed cuddles.”

“S’okay,” you shrugged, linking your arm around his elbow and curling your hand up to the lean stretch of bicep pressed against your own shoulder. “You’re cuddly. And he likes you.”

Clint’s playful smile softened into something else, something full and gentle as he looked down at you. You didn’t see it though, as you reached out to pat the dog and let your cheek fall to Clint’s shoulder.

This little adventure was indulgent, and silly, but that was exactly what Clint liked about being with you. Those things felt right, and it made him feel good. So he indulged. He let his lips fall to the top of your head, nose tickled by your hair and the smell of soap. For a moment, he let himself stay like that. Then he kissed the top of your head. Quietly, gently, deliciously thoughtless.

Even more satisfying: you didn’t react at all. Just stayed curled up like that against his side and let him.

Clint walked out with a new dog that day. One he promptly renamed when his favorite pizza vendor – a gas station that sells pizza by the slice but Clint buys by the pie – spotted you outside with him on a long red lead.

“Lucky day for you, eh?” he’d asked with a toothy grin and a big box of pepperoni pizza.

Clint glanced over his shoulder and grinned, lop-sided and nearly lost. He was sure he looked like a damn fool, he just didn’t care. “It’s been a pretty good one.”

“Who am I to stand between Lady Luck and her prize,” he said, shooing away Clint’s money. “It’s going stale anyway, just take it.”

“Really? Thanks, Marco!”

When he found you on the tiniest spit of grass, you slipped a greedy hand into the box and withdrew a slice. He couldn’t help laughing at the grin on your lips as you stuffed half the piece into your mouth.

“’M starving!” you mumbled.

He shook his head and reached into the box himself. Except instead of eating the slice, he tossed it to Arrow. “He’s a lucky dog. This was free!”

“You should call him Lucky!”

He grinned and slung an arm over your shoulder, the three of you heading down the block back to his stoop to finish the box of pizza between you. Lucky seemed more fitting for a dog than Arrow anyway. He liked it.

“Lucky the pizza dog.”

Part 4 >>

#clint x reader #clint x reader fluff #clint barton x reader #clint barton x reader fluff #clint barton fanfic #avengers fanfic #clint barton

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talistheintrovert · 4 years

Text

Hold Onto Hope

@clarkgriffon requested marper as snowing and my wife gets whatever she wants 💕 (also I had a genuinely difficult time deciding which half of the pair they were, so thank you for that my love)

read it here or on ao3!

***

For the first time in a long time, Harper felt guilty about robbing someone.

She couldn’t put her finger on why - it wasn’t like that spoilt Princess didn’t deserve it - but something about the way the Prince had chased after her, and his pleasantly surprised expression when he pulled her hood off and saw her face, just made her feel a little bad when she kicked him in the stomach and stole one of his horses.

“I’ll find you!” Prince Monty called after her as she galloped his carriage horse away into the forest, his fiance’s purse tucked under her arm. Oddly, it didn’t sound as much like a threat as it did a promise, and she found herself almost looking forward to a rematch.

In her defence, she would never have stooped to robbery before the Evil King ousted her from the throne, and she would never rob anyone if she didn’t think they could live without whatever she took. Obviously she didn’t have time to explain that business model to the Prince while she was robbing him, but perhaps the next time they saw each other.

***

The next time they saw each other proved to be sooner than she expected. Three days, in fact.

She fell right into one of his traps and ended up tied to a tree trunk while he pointed a sword at her, “Told you I’d find you. Where are the jewels?”

“That’s what was in that purse?” she played dumb, blinking up at him.

“Where are they?” he repeated, clearly not in the mood.

“I sold them, that’s what you do with stolen goods,” she said, squinting up at him defiantly, and she definitely saw his lips move upwards, just a little.

“Funny,” he deadpanned, as if he hadn’t just smiled at the joke. “Who did you sell them to?”

“I don’t know, I have a fence.”

“A fence?”

“Yeah, it’s this person who helps you sell stolen goods, like-”

“I know what a fence is,” he said, cheeks flushing with embarassment. “Who’s your guy?”

“She’s... private,” Harper raised an eyebrow at him.

Prince Monty sighed. “Look, I’m not going to have anyone arrested or anything. I don’t particularly like the King either, I don’t blame you for robbing his carriages, I just want the ring back. You can keep the profit from whatever else you sold in the bag, but the ring was mine.”

“You’re fine with me selling your fiance’s jewels?” Harper asked, incredulous. “Romantic of you.”

“You know as well as I do what these arranged marriages are like,” he sighed, letting his sword drop to his side. “I don’t even like her. She’s Queen Nia’s niece and she’s awful and I don’t think she wants to marry me any more than I want to marry her, but this is how it is. Honestly I’m kind of jealous of you.”

“Me?” She narrowed her eyes at him and he pulled a scrunched up piece of paper from his pocket. It was a Wanted Poster with her face on it, name scrawled underneath with the enormous bounty lighting up the parchment, and she wanted to stick her dagger through it, but her hands were stuck. “Ah. You know who I am.”

“You got out,” he said, shrugging.

“I’m being hunted across the kingdom,” she pointed out. “The King’s guards are after me, I have to rob his carriages to stay afloat, and all because he wanted to steal the throne from my family. There’s nothing about my life that you should want.”

“Hey, you get to rob carriages, ten-year-old me would have loved that,” he grinned, “and twenty-year-old me thinks it’s pretty cool too.”

She hummed pensively. “Are you just trying to find the ring so you can have one last shot at being a rogue before you get married?”

He thought it over for a moment before he cut the ropes holding her to the tree and sat down next to her. “I want the ring because it belonged to my mother, and there aren’t many things I have left of hers. The adventure is just a bonus.”

She regarded him carefully. “Well, at least you’re honest.”

***

They kept to the shadows as they shuffled into the tavern. She’d given him a cloak to wear over his royal clothes and he welcomed the anonymity, even if it did earn him some disgruntled looks from people as they passed. Harper made a beeline for a booth in the corner.

“Hey Harp, long time no see,” the woman looked bored.

“Hey Mori,” she grinned.

“This is the prince, huh? You’re right, he’s cute,” she said, looking Monty up and down, and Harper felt her cheeks getting warm. She elbowed Emori, but the woman only smirked at her. “I checked the inventory, and I sold that ring yesterday.”

“Shit,” Harper groaned. “Who to?”

“Oh no, we’re not doing this again, you’re not going on another crusade for someone you don’t even know, we’ve talked about this!” Emori complained. “You’re supposed to be keeping a low profile and you keep helping people and it’s not helping.”

“Mori.” Harper looked at her earnestly.

She sighed, irritated, and slid a piece of paper across the table. “I sold it to a grounder rebel. She lives near the ruins of the old castle, and she doesn’t like strangers.”

“Great,” Harper tucked the name into her pocket. “I always like making new friends.”

“Being friends with you is stressful, you know that?” Emori asked, clasping her hand before she slid from the booth and disappeared into the frey. Harper looked to Monty, who was staring at her with an indefinable expression in his eye.

“What?”

“Nothing, you’re just... good at this.”

“Good at what, being a criminal?”

“People,” he said, smiling. “Talking to them, understanding them, putting them at ease. You would have made a good queen.”

She opened her mouth to respond only to find she had nothing to say, so instead, she grabbed his hand and dragged him from the tavern and out into the night, definitely not thinking about the fact that it took him longer than it should have to let go of her fingers.

***

She dove behind an upturned cart, dragging Monty down with her. He landed on top of her, noses practically touching as yet another flaming arrow whipped overhead.

“You know, when I told you I’d help you get your ring back, I didn’t think it would involve fire,” she muttered, trying to ignore the flutter in her chest at his closeness. He laughed breathlessly and rolled off her, picking her dagger off the ground.

“What’s the plan?”

“I’ll let you know when I have one,” she said. “In the meantime, keep your head down and don’t die. I really don’t want a dead prince on my record on top of the other stuff.”

“Just admit you’re actually starting to like me,” he said, gaze cutting across to her, and she ducked her head.

“You wish,” she said, and then leapt over the cart, bow drawn, and sent three arrows towards the advancing grounder. The woman hissed in pain and dropped her flaming bow, backing up with her hands raised. Harper tilted her head. “Let’s try this again. As I said before, I’m not here to rob you. I’m not here to arrest you or anyone else. I’m just here to ask for a ring back, something my fence sold you yesterday.”

The dark-haired woman frowned. “But you’re royals - he’s a prince.”

“I was, I’m not anymore,” Harper said. “And this prince isn’t too bad, as far as royals go.”

“Who are you?”

“No-one important,” she smiled, warm, genuine. “I’m just a girl who sold something that didn’t belong to her, and wants to give it back.”

“You’re a thief?”

“Of sorts.”

“What’s so important about the ring?”

“Nothing, except to this one guy,” she said. “I’ve got ten other pieces of jewellery worth twice what it cost, and I’d be happy to trade you for them, or even give you the gold you paid for it - plus interest.”

The woman eyed her up. “You’re the Wanted Princess, right? I can see it now - the posters don’t do you justice, but I can see it. Why are you helping a prince? I thought you swore off all the royals when you went on the run.”

“Harper,” she introduced herself by folding her bow and arrow back into their sling, a sign of peace. “And like I said, this one isn’t all bad. He can’t help his lineage any more than I can.”

The woman took a moment, and then stepped forward, extinguishing the flaming arrow on the ground between them. “Octavia. You’re alright, McIntyre. I like you. You can tell your prince he can come out now, I’m not going to shoot him.”

“He’s not my prince,” Harper mumbled, as Monty crept out from behind the cart, smiling anxiously at their attacker.

“Hi. Sorry.”

“What are you apologising for?” Octavia asked.

“Uh. Being a prince, I guess,” he said.

She snorted. “Well that’s a first. Don’t worry about it, Green, if you’re hanging around this sort you can’t be totally awful.”

“Does that mean you’re open to trade?” Harper asked, hopeful.

Octavia scoffed and tossed something into the air. It spun, catching the light, over Harper’s head and into Monty’s chest. He clutched at it, surprised to find that it was his mother’s ring, and looked back to the rebel, who just lifted a shoulder noncommittally. “You can keep the ring, I don’t need it.”

“We can’t just take it, what do you want in return?”

Octavia regarded her. “Just... when you bring the fight back to the Evil King, invite me along. That’s all the reward I need.”

“Deal,” she said, holding her hand out for the woman to shake. They clasped fingers, a promise cemented, and Harper passed her a vial of something as she let go. “Fairy dust, so that you can find me if you need me.”

“Whatever,” she said, but there was something soft behind her hard expression. “Now get out of here before I change my mind.”

Harper spun on her heel and grabbed Monty’s hand, leading him back through the woods towards the road where they’d left the horses.

“See,” he said, smug.

“What?”

“People,” he said insistently, “Harper McIntyre - the people’s queen.”

She turned away from him, untying the horses so he couldn’t see the blush rising in her cheeks. “Yeah, well... maybe someday.”

“Someday,” he agreed, taking the reins off her. This was it - their little adventure was over, he had no reason to stay - but still, he hesitated. “What are you going to do now?”

“I probably shouldn’t tell you,” she smiled. “Reasonable deniability, you know.”

“True,” he said, but he still wasn’t moving.

“Is that... is that for your fiance?” Harper asked, looking at the ring still clasped in his hand.

He blinked, like a bucket of cold water had been thrown over him. “Uh. Well. I guess so, but... I think I might keep it for now. I don’t love my fiance, and I’m pretty sure my mother would kill me if she knew I was letting her ring be worn by someone I’m not in love with. Not a perfect fit, she’d say, and she’d be right.”

“Can I see it?” Harper asked, and held out her hand.

Rather than placing the ring in her palm, he turned her hand over and slid the ring onto her fourth finger, and there was something fizzling in the air between them as she admired the green gem in the fading light.

It was a perfect fit.

“You know what,” Monty said, eyes earnest as they caught hers, “I think you should hold onto it. Clearly I’m not the best person to keep an eye on it.”

“No, I couldn’t-”

“I’ll come get it when I’ve found someone my mother would be proud of,” he said, fingers warm against the back of her hand, thumb running along her palm. “You keep it until then, so you know you still have friends who wear royal crests. As a reminder that we’re not all the Evil King - some of us are on your side.”

“I’m not trying to make sides.”

He shook his head vehemently. “But people will take yours anyway, Harper. Because you’re what they need, and the more you do what you do, the more they’ll join you. Even people in castles.”

He let their hands drop between them and backed towards his horse, swinging a leg over it and settling himself in the saddle. She took the cue to climb onto her own horse - or rather, the one she’d stolen from him - and start trotting in the other direction.

“Harper?” Monty called out.

She glanced over her shoulder. He already felt so far away. “Yeah?”

He smiled softly, “I’ll find you.”

***

Harper woke up in a cold sweat, trying to remember the dream. It had felt so real at the time, but now it was slipping away.

It was silly, really, to still have fantasies about fairytale princes, but something about the dream made her feel wistful for it, and she tried to shake the feeling off so she could get ready for work.

She sat up in bed, stretching, and thought about what Madi had said the night before - that odd story she’d been telling about her true love being a prince from a storybook, and she decided her dreams must have latched onto the idea. She wondered if Madi had managed to convince Clarke to stay in town yet, and she made a mental note to check in on her that afternoon, maybe bring her some cupcakes to show her how welcome she was.

She walked into town, the dream steadily slipping away, but the edges of it caught in her memory, like she couldn’t quite let go, and as she walked into Miller’s diner, she thought she caught a glimpse of a familiar face.

“Monty?”

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