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thetravelerwrites · 3 years

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Alexei (Satyr) Part 1

Rating: Mature Relationships: Female Human/Male Satyr Additional Tags: Exophilia, Monster Boyfriend, Satyr, Arranged Marriage, Fake Marriage, Strangers to Lovers, Reader Insert Words: 5834

A commission for @thebimess! A woman escaping an arranged marriage proposes an unusual agreement with a man she just met: marry her for six months to get out of the marriage contract. Please reblog and leave feedback!

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Being on the road was rather terrifying for a woman traveling on her own, but you weren’t wavering in your intent. You had to get to Dunmountain and disappear. You didn’t care if you lived in a hovel shoveling shit for a living, you weren’t marrying that man. Not in a million years.

A few days on the road sleeping rough hadn’t done much to deter you, though it was cold and uncomfortable. You managed to get to Chesterfield long enough to buy road provisions and get rid of your old clothes, but you didn’t want to stay there too long. You didn’t know if they’d have people out looking for you.

You ached for a bath and a bed. You didn’t realize how much you’d taken being clean and comfortable for granted. And it looked like rain tonight. You figured the horses wouldn’t mind a bunk mate.

As you were coming around to go into the stables, it began to rain rather hard. As you ducked in, the stablehand shouted at you.

“Oy! Get out of here! No homeless wenches sleeping in here for free. Go get a room or sleep in a gutter!”

“Oh, but sir--”

“No buts! Out with you!”

You had no choice but to duck back out of the stable and into the pouring rain. You went around the back, praying that there was a cart you could sleep under.

Instead of a cart, there was a lovely lavender vardo parked there. The front and rear doors were locked, but there was a window. It was small, but you thought you could squeeze through. And if you got stuck, at least half of you would be dry.

The shutters had a latch on the inside, but it was easy enough to open with a hair stick. Using the wheel as a boost, you threw your bag inside and jumped up. Getting your shoulders through was the hardest part, and your hips were a bit of a struggle, but finally you fell to the floor of the vardo like a spilled sack of potatoes. Slightly bruised, you re-latched the shutter windows and looked around.

It was fairly neat and tidy, looking a bit larger on the inside that it did on the outside, with things secured safely to the walls and inside trunks. The walls had beautiful filigree scrolling all the way up and the roof had a lovely fresco of a countryside near a body of water, the field full of flowers. There were things that hung along the ceiling, making gentle jingling noises as the vardo moved.

There was a small cot latched up against the wall that would fold down. Wearily, you folded it down, pulled out your cloak, which was still dry in your bag, and laid it over the cot to prevent the wet from your clothes from seeping through, and settled down on it. You’d deal with the owner in the morning. If you weren’t arrested for trespassing, that is.

Once you were horizontal, you fell asleep immediately.

You were awakened rudely when you felt water being poured on your face. You sputtered and shielded your face, sitting up abruptly.

“Ah, the stowaway is awake at last,” You heard a masculine voice say. “Since you seem to have had a nice rest, you can get out now.”

You wiped the water out of your eyes and looked up. Standing there was a satyr with deep brown fur on his legs and tan skin. With his short, black horns jutting up just behind his hairline, you thought he might be only slightly shorter than you. He had hair the same dark color as his fur and bright blue eyes, a closely trimmed beard and mustache, and dimples you could see even with the beard. He wore no trousers, covered by his fur, but had on an off-white tunic and a buttoned-up brick red vest with gold embroidery. His cloven hooves were shiny black and dainty.

“I’m sorry,” You said, coughing and sniff the water out of your nose. “I’m sorry, I just needed a dry place to sleep.”

“And so you did,” He said, putting his water skin aside and folding his arms. “I’ve been on the road for hours now, and I didn’t know you were back here until I stopped for lunch. So, you’ve had your sleep. Get out.”

“Which way have you traveled?”

“I’m halfway to Red Landing,” He said.

“No!” You moaned, your head in your hands. “It took me so long to get to Chesterfield from Red Landing. That’s almost a full day backwards!”

“That’s not my problem,” He huffed. “You’re the one who trespassed in what is ostensibly my home.”

“Can I pay you to take me back to Chesterfield? I’ll give you ten gold. That has to be enough to ferry me for a few hours.”

He sighed sharply. “I mean… I guess? I don’t owe you any favors, you know.”

“No, I know,” You replied, fishing around in your bag. “Here,” You pressed ten coins into his hand. “It’s not much for inconveniencing you, I know, but I don’t have much as it is.”

He bounced the coins in his hand, frowning down at them.

“What’s so important in Chesterfield?” He asked.

“I’m not going to Chesterfield, I’m going to Dunmountain,” You replied. “Do you really care why?”

He snorted. “I guess not. Fine, fine. You’ve already taken up too much of my time, I might as well get paid for it.” He snatched up your bag and began looking through it.

“Hey!” You said, grabbing the bag back. “What are you doing?”

“I’m making sure you didn’t steal anything of mine while you were in here,” He retorted. “Let me see or I’ll dump you off right here.”

You scoffed, but held open your bag so that he could see inside, refusing to let it go. He shuffled things around and you waited anxiously until he was satisfied and straightened up.

“You’re not riding in here,” He said. “Get up in the driver’s box. I want to be able to watch you.”

“Alright,” You said, standing and following him out of the back of the vardo and led you to the front. “What’s your name?”

“You don’t need to know my name and I don’t need to know yours,” He said, vaulting up and not offering his hand. You were forced to clamor up the opposite side. “Once we get to Chesterfield, I expect to never see you again.”

“Fair enough,” You said, hunkering down in the driver’s box, sitting as far away from him as you could, and fell silent as the carriage lurched forward.

He pulled out a small bag of puffed grains and dried fruits and began to munch on them as the vardo trundled on, the lone mule’s head bobbing up and down as it took each step. You took out a small amount of hard cheese and nibbled on it.

“I’ll trade you a bite of cheese for a handful of your trail snacks,” You told him.

He shrugged. “Sure,” He replied, taking the morsel of cheese you offered him and pouring some of the grains and fruits in your palm.

“What were you going to Red Landing for?” You asked him.

He looked at you sidelong before answering. “I was going to buy some shells to make paint.”

“Are you a painter?” You asked.

“Yes,” He replied.

“Did you do the scrollwork and the fresco in the vardo?”

“I did.”

“Wow,” You replied, impressed. “It’s really good work. I mean, I’m not an expert, but I enjoyed it very much.”

“I don’t know what weight the praise of a trespasser might carry, but thank you all the same.”

You bristled. “I said I was sorry. And I’ve paid you. There’s no reason to be rude.”

That effectively killed conversation and your appetite. You put your food back in your bag and sat still and quiet, staring at the trees as they passed.

After an hour, the vardo stopped, and you looked at the satyr for the first time since his quip.

“Why have we stopped?” You asked.

“Shh,” He replied. “Listen. Do you hear that?”

You strained your hearing. “I just hear birds and the trees rustling.”

“Stay here,” He said, throwing down the reins and jumping down. “If you run off with my stuff, I’ll hunt you down.”

“I’m not going to run off, relax,” You said in annoyance.

He sniffed and walked into the trees and out of sight. You waited nervously for him to return, clutching your bag against your body, until eventually you heard a sniffling and whimpering. The satyr emerged from the trees carrying what you thought was a dog at first, but on closer inspection, it was wearing a shirt and pants.

“Oh, my goodness!” You cried, putting down your bag and hopping down. “Are you alright, little one!”

He whined much like a puppy. You reached from him, and he crawled into your arms, hiding his snout in your hair.

“I haven’t been able to get much out of him,” The satyr said. “But I remember the sheriff in Willowridge is a gnoll and has a couple of young sons. The crossroads to Willowridge is nearby. We may be making a detour.”

“That’s just fine, isn’t it?” You cooed to the little gnoll boy. “That’s no problem, eh? Let’s get you home, sweet pea. I’ve got some jerky in my bag. Are you hungry?”

“Yeah,” The boy said watery.

“Alright, sweetie pie, let’s get you some food, then.” You popped back up into the driver’s box with the boy clinging to you like a baby possum. The satyr got back up and snapped the reins, pushing the mule to movement.

After he ate, he seemed a bit more calm, and you were able to get him to talk to you. You learned that his name was Declan and he was indeed the youngest son of Willowridge’s sheriff, Feera. He was three years old and apparently a sleepwalker, having woken up in the forest a little while before the satyr heard him crying. How he managed to cross so much land in his sleep was unimaginable, but at least he was heading home now.

It didn’t take long for him to become rambunctious, and the satyr pulled Declan into his lap and let him take the reins. Declan squealed happily as he wiggled the reins back and forth. The mule was patient and didn’t take off when he felt the slapping on his back.

After a while, he fell asleep in the satyr’s arms. The satyr cradled him while still keeping a firm hand on the reins.

“You’re good with kids,” You remarked.

He shrugged. “I grew up around a bunch of kids, so I’m used to handling them.”

“Do you have a lot of younger siblings?”

“Something like that,” He replied.

As you rounded the bend, Willowridge came into view. You’d only been there once when you were ten when your father was still a builder. He’d retired from construction just afterward.

“Hey, Declan!” You said, tickling him awake. “Look, you’re home!”

Declan woke up in the satyr’s arms and looked around, his ears perking up. He yipped excitedly.

“Oy!” The satyr called out. “Anyone missing a kid?”

“Oh, thank goodness!” An older woman said, running out from a nearby trail. She was wearing trousers and had long brown hair with wisps of white in it. “Where have you been, you naughty thing! We’ve been looking for you everywhere! You come to Gramma right this instant!” She took the little boy from the satyr’s arms and hugged him tight. She turned and called to a large centaur that was next to her. “Can you go and fetch Eris and Feera?”

“Yes, Mama,” He said, and he dashed off with a flick of his tail.

“Thank you two so much,” She said, reaching up to shake your hand.

“Oh, it was all him,” You said. “He heard Declan crying in the forest.”

“Keen hearing,” The satyr said, flicking his long ears. “Alexei, pleasure to meet you, madam.” You introduced yourself as well.

“My name is Ryel. Let me buy you folks dinner and a bed for the evening. It’s the least I can do. Who knows what might have happened to Declan if you two hadn’t found him.

As you were about to answer, a large gnoll and a woman with a river of golden hair flying behind her sprinted toward you. The gnoll was on all fours and much faster than the woman, who was clutching her skirts in her fists so she didn’t trip on them as she ran. Running at her side was another gnoll child, slightly bigger than Declan.

“Declan!” The gnoll cried out, and Ryel handed the boy off to his father as soon as he skidded to a stop and reared up on his hind legs. “By the gods, son, you scared the life out of me!”

The woman, Eris, stopped next to her husband, her face wet with tears, and she took the boy without a word, squeezing him tight and crying silently. Feera encircled both of them in his arms and held them for a moment. The other gnoll boy stood with his grandmother, holding her hand and biting at one of his claws in wide-eyed confusion.

After a moment, Feera let go of his wife and approached you.

“Thank you, strangers,” He said, reaching up to shake your hands like his mother had.

“It’s my pleasure, sir,” Alexei replied, shaking firmly.

“Please, let me buy the two of you a drink,” Feera said, waving over a stable boy from the nearby tavern. “We’ll take your mule and cart and make sure they’re both taken care of. Are you folks hungry?”

The family ushered you and Alexei into the inn and sat you down at a table, ordering ale and a meal for everyone. Eris had a firm grip on her youngest son and an arm around her oldest. Declan now seemed to be completely over his sojourn into the woods by himself, though his parents still seemed slightly traumatized by it.

“That’s the farthest he’s ever gone,” Eris said. She was a taciturn woman who didn’t smile much, which made her appear rather stern. “We’re usually good about keeping everything locked up tight. I still don’t know how he got out. We’ve even nailed the windows closed.”

“Who knows?” Feera said, rubbing his wife’s back soothingly. “He could have shimmied out of the slats in the attic. Looks like I’ll have to nail that shut too.”

“Here you go, dearies,” The innkeeper said, laying a key on the table. “Here’s your room for the night. The bed is nice and big, so you’ll both be comfortable.”

“Oh,” Alexei said. “No, we’re not together. I was giving her a ride. I hadn’t met her before today.”

“Oh,” The innkeeper said, dismayed. “I’m afraid I only have the one room available right now.”

“That’s alright, we’ll take it. Thank you for your generosity,” You said, taking the key and smiling. In an undertone, you said to Alexei, “It’s fine, I’ll sleep on the floor, it’s no big deal.”

He grimaced but said nothing.

That night, you unrolled your bedroll and got ready to lay down. He had taken the bed, since you offered it, and was already half asleep. He had taken off his vest but left his tunic on. You stared at him thoughtfully, debating with yourself.

“Alexei,” You called.

He snorted and opened his eyes, looking over at you blearily. “What?”

“I wanted to ask you something.”

“What is it? I’m trying to sleep.”

“Would you marry me?”

His eyes shot open and he stared at the ceiling for a full minute before sitting up to glare at you.

“What?”

“Look, I know it’s a weird thing to ask--”

“It’s a crazy thing to ask!”

“Can I just explain myself before you think I’m crazy?”

“It’s too late for that, but please, go ahead.” He sat with his legs dangling over the edge of the bed and his hands clasped in his lap, looking at you expectantly.

“I’m escaping an arranged marriage,” You began bluntly. “I was only told of the engagement three days prior to leaving home. I met him at a dinner the night before what was to be our wedding day for the first time. You could not imagine a more boorish, rude, inept man.”

“I bet I could.”

You snorted. “He did nothing but drink wine during the dinner, leering at both me and the serving staff and making rather unseemly comments about my face and body, considering he’d only just met me. His parents just shushed him, but in a dismissive, boys-will-be-boys kind of way that made me want to tear my hair out.”

“When was this whole thing set up?”

“I’d apparently been promised to him since I was five years old. His family is rich from textile money, but they have a less that immaculate reputation. His parents need the respectability that my family’s name offers in order to regain many of their clients and trade routes.”

“Why’s that?”

“It’s the son’s, my so-called husband-to-be’s, fault. I learned through conversation with his parents that he didn’t work in his family business at all and traveled quite often on his parent’s dime. After they had gotten rather drunk, his parents admitted that he had already fathered two children out of wedlock that they knew of.”

His head rocked back. “That’s concerning. Are your parents still on board with the wedding?”

“Yes. Part of the deal is a large investment from my fiance’s parents; my parents need the money to retire.”

“So you decided to escape in the middle of the night, is that it?”

You nodded. “Thankfully, my parents hadn’t paid the officiant yet, and therefore the wedding hadn’t been formally recorded with the county as a done-deal, so I decided to leave until the contract ran its course. I knew where my parents kept their money and only took what I thought I would need to get to Dunmountain. They aren’t exactly rich, after all, just well-respected. I plan to pay them back at some point. I just pray they understand.”

“So, you’re asking me to marry you to get out of the engagement?”

“Yes,” You said. “The contract is void if I turn twenty five before the wedding or if I have been married to someone else for a minimum of six months with verifiable proof. Meaning I have to have both my husband and the marriage certificate in hand and meet with a mediator to authenticate it. And since twenty five is three years away, the only hope I have of freedom is to marry someone else.”

He folded his arms. “And exactly what do I get out of this? Six months is a long time to be stuck with a stranger, you know.”

“I know. I’ll give you every penny I have. Wherever we end up, I’ll pick up jobs. I’ll pay for everything. I’ll cook and clean. You won’t have to lift a finger. I’ll do whatever I can to make this as painless for you as possible, and then when it’s over, we can have the marriage annulled and you never have to see me again.”

He considered you for a long moment, chewing his lip.

“I know it’s sudden and out of the blue,” You continued. “But I’m desperate and willing to put my trust, and money, in a stranger.”

He sighed and raked his fingers through his beard. “Look, give me a day to consider it. This is a lot for me to process.”

“Alright,” You said. “Thank you for even entertaining the idea. I haven’t done much to endear myself to you, so I appreciate that you didn’t turn me down outright.”

He flopped back down on the bed. “Go to sleep.”

“You still don’t know my name,” You said, lying down.

“If I accept, you can tell me. Just go to sleep. Or don’t, I don’t care.” He rolled over toward the wall, facing away from you, clearly indicating the conversation was over. You covered yourself with your cloak, your thoughts in a roil, and eventually fell into an uneasy sleep.

The next morning, Alexei was gone. After a moment of panic, you packed up your things and rushed downstairs, hoping to ask after him, only to find him sitting and eating breakfast. He looked up when you came stumbling down, but made no gesture of greeting, simply continued to eat. You almost went to go sit with him, but thought, why? You don’t know him, after all. Instead, you went to sit at the bar.

“Getcha anythin’, darlin’?” The barmaid asked. She had a friendly north-eastern Scottish accent.

“You folks offer a breakfast plate or something like that?” You asked.

“Sure do. Mulled cider to go with?”

“Sounds great, thank you.”

She went off to get your food and drink and you sat there, feeling anxious.

“Pardon me,” A voice said to your right. It was Eris, the young mother of the gnoll child. Despite her somber face, she was actually rather lovely when she wasn’t crying.

“Oh, yes, ma’am, what can I do for you?”

“Take this, please,” She said, holding out a small drawstring sack. “It’s not much, but I wouldn’t feel right if you walked away with no reward for what you did for my family.”

“Oh, ma’am, no, you don’t have to do this,” You protested, but she held up a hand to stop you.

“Please, it would mean a lot to me. I don’t know what I would have done if something had happened to him,” She said. She scratched her neck self-consciously. Though she wore a high collared dress, you could see a scar peeking out of the neckline.

“Really, Alexei should get this, he’s the one who found him,” You told her.

“He’s already been given his share,” She said. “Take it, please.”

You smiled and sighed. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“Thank you,” Her normally reserved, neutral expression lightened into a smile. “I hope we meet again.” And she took her leave.

The barmaid laid a plate of scrambled eggs and a fried potato hash in front of you along with a large tankard of cider.

You’d eaten half of it when Alexei sidled up and sat on the stool next to you. He didn’t look at you, but set his tankard in front of him and flagged down the barmaid, who refilled it.

“Do you get on with your folks? Are they good parents?”

“Yeah,” You replied, stunned by the sudden question. “They’re nice parents, they’ve never been cruel to me. I supposed I’m closer to my mother than my father, but we all get along well. I’ve never had to doubt if they loved me, if that’s what you mean.”

“But they’re okay with you marrying this pissant, though?”

You sighed. “Their marriage was arranged, and they were fine with it. I suppose they think that my fiance, Gregory, will settle down when we marry, but I doubt it. I don’t see how being married to a stranger is supposed to make someone like him straighten up.” You set down your fork and leaned your elbows on the bar. “Besides, even good parents may not always do what’s best for their kids. Sometimes they do what’s best for themselves. They’re just as capable of being selfish at the expense of others as any other person can be.” You took a gulp of cider and blew out a breath of frustration.

“Do you hate them?”

“No,” You said slowly. “I’m angry at them, but that doesn’t mean I hate them.”

He took a drink and huffed. “It’s all so confusing.”

“How do you mean?” You asked.

He shook his head. “Nothing. What were you going to do once you got to Dunmountain?”

“Hide. Get a job somewhere, anywhere. Sleep in a shed, if I have to. Lie low until I turned twenty five. Maybe go back when the contract runs out. Maybe.”

“You don’t want to see your parents again?”

“It’s not that,” You said, poking at your food. “I didn’t want to leave in the first place. If it wasn’t for the engagement, I wouldn’t have had to. I don’t know what they’ll do if I ever go back. Maybe they’ll disown me. Maybe they’ll force me to work or write up another marriage contract with Gregory or someone else to get the money they need. I don’t know.”

“Don’t you have a say?”

You scoffed. “Of course not. Women are the property of their fathers until they get married, and then they’re the property of their husbands. Property doesn’t get a say.”

He was silent for a long time, every so often reaching over to pick an onion off of your plate.

“I guess I just have one thing left to ask you, then,” He said.

“Which is?”

He turned to you and clicked his tongue. “What’s your name, pet?”

The two of you left Willowridge heading for Dunmountain, stopping for a few days in Chesterfield to have a quick courthouse wedding. He managed to find a simple iron ring in his belongings to use as a wedding band. After the wedding, you gave him half of your money, telling him he’d get the other half after the annulment.

Once in Dunmountain, you left Alexei to handle the mule and vardo, and immediately began to look for work. The bathhouses were your best bet; there was always laundry that needed doing.

You also found a small apartment at an inn made up of a single room with a fireplace one could cook over. It wasn’t furnished with anything, not even a bed, but you figured you could make do with a bedroll and a simple table and chairs. You paid the rent for the next month and got the keys, rushing back to Alexei to tell him where you’d be living.

He drove you back to the apartment on his carriage, and the two of you began hauling your belongings up the stairs to your room.

“I’ll buy furnishings tomorrow,” You told him. “We’re not staying here long, so we won’t need much.”

“Didn’t you say you’d see to my every comfort?” He teased. “I want a canopy bed with feather down and a lounging sofa and--”

You shushed him. “I said I’d cook and clean and pay the necessary expenses. You want anything else, you can pay for it yourself.”

He chuckled. “Did you find a job?”

“I start at the bathhouse adjacent to the inn in two days. I’ll leave you food for the day and cook when I get home. That’ll have to do.” You opened the door to the room and stepped inside. “I have enough provisions to make a simple stew, unless you’d like something else.”

“Stew sounds fine,” He said, setting down a small trunk. “I think I’ll go out tomorrow and look for paint supplies. I sold all of my paintings on my trip and I need to create some new ones. If I go too long without painting, I get irritable.”

“I’d hate to see what that looks like,” You said snidely. The only thing in the room provided by the inn was a bucket for drawing water from the nearby fountain. “I’ll fetch some water for dinner.”

A few months passed awkwardly but uneventfully. Alexei was companionable enough, but the two of you hadn’t made any attempts to bond or become close. You exchanged passing pleasantries, but the two of you didn’t converse much. He sometimes teased you by asking if your “wifely duties” extended to sharing the marital bed, seeing as how your bedrolls had been placed on opposite sides of the room. You merely smacked his backside with a hand towel and told him to get back to his paintings.

“Would you ever consider sitting for a painting, pet?” He asked you once as you were cleaning dishes.

You snorted. “I expected you’d want me to model nude for you or some nonsense.”

He laughed. “Only if that’s what you’d like, dear wife of mine.”

“Don’t call me that,” You said, lobbing a crumb of bread at his head. He didn’t duck, just let it hit him and caught it, popping it in his mouth. “And I will do no such thing.”

“Offer is open, if you ever change your mind.”

“If the earth opened and the devil himself ordered me to do it, I’d still refuse.”

Alexei laughed full-throated. “That’d be a sight worth seeing.”

As annoying as he could be, he wasn’t an unpleasant man to live with. He didn’t do any of the washing or cooking, but you didn’t care since you promised to do it yourself. Even still, he was fairly tidy and didn’t make much of a mess. He liked to joke and tease, but he was mostly harmless. For all his teasing, he never once made a move on you or gave you any reason to fear he might take advantage of you.

You also had to admit, he was very talented. He sold his paintings just as fast as he made them, which was a little bit of a shame, you thought: your room was a little plain and dour, and you’d have liked one or two of them to hang on the wall to brighten the place up. You never asked, though. You couldn’t go asking for favors from the man who’d already promised six months of his life to you.

On your birthday, you got permission to finish work early and decided to go and buy the ingredients to make an apple and honey pot pie to go with dinner that night. Since you didn’t have a stove, you’d have to bake it in a pan over the fire, but you knew how to do it. It was one of the first treats your mother had ever taught you to make.

Apples were in season and would be cheap enough--the cheapest of the fruits available anyway--but honey would be quite expensive. A single spoonful cost several days worth of work. But you figured, you’d been working hard. You’d earned it.

When you arrived back at the apartment, he stood up from his painting stool to take your shopping basket.

“Is that honey I smell?” He said, sniffing. “That’s pricey. What’s the occasion, pet?”

“It’s my birthday,” You told him. “I was going to make a pie.”

“Is it!” He said, smiling. “That certainly is reason for celebration. Why didn’t you say anything?”

“It’s not like we have regular conversations, you know,” You said, unpacking the shopping. “Besides, I didn’t think it would matter to you.”

“Well, that’s a bit unfair,” He said, frowning. “Are we not friends?”

“Are we?” You asked, stopping to quirk an eyebrow at him. “Out of the way, please. I need to start the crust now or I’ll be cooking all night.”

He frowned at you still but said nothing, taking two steps back so you could bustle about making dinner.

“What would you want as a gift?” He asked, leaning against the wall and watching you work.

“I don’t want anything,” You replied, not looking up. “If I did, I’d get it myself.”

“Oh, come now,” He said, tsking. “You may not think of us as friends, but after four months, I would assume we’d have developed some kind of rapport. What would you ask of a friend?”

“I wouldn’t ask anything of a friend,” You said. “I’m not the type of person who expects gifts.”

“Didn’t your parents ever give you gifts?”

“That’s different, they’re my parents.”

“Family, right?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I’m family now, aren’t I?” He asked.

“I will throw a plate at you.”

“Just tell me,” He said, his voice a little wheedling. “There must be one thing I can get you that you’d allow.”

You sighed forcefully and stopped kneading the dough, turning to him and looking him up and down. “Are you serious about this?”

“Have you ever known me not to be serious?” He asked, grinning.

You rolled your eyes and when back to work, and he stuttered a retraction.

“No, no, I am, I’m serious. Please, tell me, what would you like?”

You stopped again and wiped your hands on your apron, and then crossed them over your chest. “Well… I’d like a painting.”

He looked like you’d hit him in the head with your baking pan. “What?”

“It doesn’t have to be anything grand, just a little painting of anything, flowers or trees or something like that, to brighten up the room. It’s a bit drab here.” You waved around vaguely. “There isn’t even a window. Just… some color. That’s all.”

“You want me to paint for you?” He asked, incredulous. “That’s all?”

“Well… I know painting supplies are expensive and I didn’t want to ask for anything, seeing as I promised to take care of everything myself. Like I said, I’m not the type to expect presents or things like that.”

“You don’t like to ask for things for yourself, do you, pet?” He asked shrewdly. “Not just from me, huh? In general.”

You turned your back to him and started kneading again. “My parents were both born peasants. Peasants don’t get gifts. When they married, they lived in a one-room cruck house that my father built them as a wedding gift. A house of straw and dirt was all my father could offer my mother, and it was good enough. They both worked their hands to the bone to get where they are. They live in a much nicer house now and don’t have to work as hard as they used to, but they raised me to appreciate what I could do with my own hands and not to rely on gifts. ‘A gift is never free,’ they’d always say.” You stopped working again and stared at your hands. “They used to tell me that I was ‘a gift’ to them. I wonder now if that meant they always saw me as a means to an end.”

“I always thought parents were supposed to put their children above everything else,” He said softly from behind you, continuing to watch you.

“Is that what your parents were like?” You asked in return. He didn’t answer and you looked over your shoulder at him.

“I wouldn’t know,” He said eventually, sitting down at the table and taking an apple from the basket. “Never met them. I grew up in an orphanage.” He took a knife from his pocket and began to peel and slice the apples.

“You know you don’t have to do that,” You remarked.

“Hush,” He said, not looking at you. “It’s your birthday.”

Dinner was pleasant, and the pie was delicious. There was enough left over to to have for breakfast the next morning. Alexei even helped you tidy up. The day had been rather nice.

So why, when you lay down for bed, did it suddenly feel like you couldn’t breathe?

Since my work is no longer searchable, please do me a favor and reblog this story if you enjoyed it. Help me reach a wider audience! To help me continue creating, please consider becoming a Patron or donating directly to my PayPal!

Thanks for reading!

My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

#Exophilia #Monster Boyfriend #Satyr #Arranged Marriage #Fake Marriage #Reader Insert #Strangers to Lovers

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cultgambles · 3 years

Text

Nearly a Blip in Time

I love historical sukuna so here i am. Also i am lowkey so confused at his story. Like i know he was a sorcerer at one point in history but like when did he get all his arms?? BC according to the wiki he was killed and then became a cursed spirit and then his fingers were waxy (lol weird choice of word) ?? anyway, in this, hes not a people hes a monster.

He’s also OOC. first time writing for JJK, but i wanted something soft hehe. Reader bites the dust

Wc: 3033

Masterlist | Requests? open

“[Y/N], you can’t be serious. No way a person of your . . . stature . . . could research in depth about something as big as Ryomen Sukuna. In fact, I’d wager that you wouldn’t even get within 5 feet of his temple,” the local teacher scoffs, disbelief plain as day on his face.

“You wager? What if I do get within 5 feet, then? Will you take me in as your student?” You cross your arms, staring him down. “Do you accept the challenge? I mean, you said it to begin with.”

The scholar throws up a hand, blowing you off. “Fine, whatever. You have half a year to write an in-depth dissection of the demon lord Ryomen Sukuna, and you will report your findings back to me at this very hour once your time is up. I expect perfection.”

“And if I win?” You ask, writing down every word he has said.

“You won’t die.”

“And?” You shoot him an unamused glare.

“And I will take you in as a student. God curse your father for teaching you to read and write.”

“He knew it would be beneficial for me. Now, sign here so you don’t try to cheat your way out of this,” you thrust the wood block and paper attached towards him. The scholar grumbles, almost breaking the ink brush in the process of writing his signature.

You carefully tuck the contract under your arm and scurry off, not before telling him you’d be back.

His laughter echoes around you.

At home, your father was amazed and horrified to learn of this deal, but he knew nothing could stop you. You gave him one last hug for the time being and gathered what little belongings you had in a knapsack.

“Don’t worry, father, I’ll be back before you know it.” His warmth lingers on your person, seeping into your bones. You’ll miss this.

Sukuna’s temple isn’t far from your village, in fact, he was revered as a protector of some sorts. Perhaps one quick to anger and that changed on the dime. It was a couple miles up the mountain where the snow thinned in winter and where the flowers bloomed in the spring. You’ve been to it only a handful of times before, once with your father, and several with the other village ladies. A yearly tradition, you suppose.

The temple is always well kept, the torii gates painted a pristine red, the surrounding area swept and neat, no dust to be seen near the wells or on the floor. Some, like the scholar you had made a wager with, merely believed he was a spirit, a demon of imagination. Others, like you and your mother, really believed in his existence. Before it becomes too late, you decide to scope out the area and set up camp a ways away from the temple so as to not disturb him. You briefly wonder if he was here or away at some other village. Would he be wreaking havoc? or be somewhat kind and spare the folks living there? You decide to set up your small camp under the camouflage and protection of the trees, maybe fifty feet from the river. You’d be much happier to stay at home, but the paths could become treacherous for a young thing like you at night. Maybe a little bit of the great outdoors is what you needed, anyway.

Almost a week passes before you ever have the hint of seeing the demon in the flesh. It’s on one of the days where you bring a small offering. Not much since you can’t exactly go home and cook a nice meal every time, but usually a flower crown or other type of decor.

When you do see him, however, time slows to a crawl. You swear your legs feel like jelly as he glances down at you. Sharp-featured and arrogant, beautiful, all man. He stands tall, towering above you. He has to stoop to reach the depths of the temple from the doorway.

“Well, well,” he croons, “what do we have here?” His four eyes are the color of what flows through each being and his canines sharp as knives. Truly, he’s beautiful, sculpted muscles rippling under inky black tattoos, blazing red eyes.

You bow deeply and straighten your shoulders, gaze still downcast to be respectful. “I just wanted to make this offering to you. I know it’s not much, but I hope you will find it useful.” You raise the small gift above your head, feeling his gaze roll over your body, sharp nails lightly scraping against your skin, grasping the wreath.

“Peculiar,” he says. His thumb and forefinger tilt your head up and you struggle to avert your eyes. “What’s your purpose here, little human?”

“I made a bet with the town scholar. I’ve to write about you and return with my findings so I can become a real student there.”

“A student, eh?”

“Please! I’m fascinated by you,” you plead, feeling his grip on your chin tighten.

“I’m intrigued, if only slightly,” he muses, releasing you harshly enough you’re forced to regain your balance.

You soon learn his ego is massive, that’s probably the only reason he spared you. He’d just love something written about him, wouldn’t he? Ever the gracious god, he lets you stay in one of the temple rooms. You had offered to take one the furthest from his own so he could have plenty of space, but he put you up right across from his instead.

Something about you being near to always capture his persona. Whatever.

Life at the temple is never truly boring. there’s always something going on; whether someone bringing gifts, like an unlucky human sacrifice, or some warriors barging in thinking they could actually harm the demon.

Sukuna likes you watching him tear apart these people limb from limb the best. The first couple times you couldn’t stand it, but it soon became a natural occurrence. Sure, you felt bad for those folks, but they never came truly prepared.

“What’re you writing now, pet?” he asks you one day. You glance up at him. He’s wringing the blood out of one of his sleeves, the blood drip drip dripping to the floor in red rain.

“I’ve noticed you like toying with your prey. If you’re in a good mood, you’ll let them think you have the upper hand,” you tell him.

“And if I’m in a bad mood?”

“Slice them in half!” He nods. His black nails gleam in the sunlight and you watch a pair of arms reach up behind his head as a cushion as the other balances to sit next to you.

“I really like how the trees change color in the autumn,” he says nonchalantly.

“Because they’re the color of blood?” you offer. You draw a small leaf on your paper’s corner.

“Maybe. Their lives are so short, unlike mine. Not that I’ve been a curse for too terribly long.”

You bite your tongue. Is it lonely? bounces around in your head.

“What will I do when my little scholar leaves too?” You flush and stammer that you still have a couple months. Sukuna pauses in thought, then, a sinister smirk gracing his lips.

The more you get to know him, the more you realize that he’s much more bored with life. Killing random people stated his boredom and gave him something to do, it wasn’t until later that he learned to revel in it. The more you got to know him, the more you didn’t want to leave.

He taught you, too. Weird things, usually, but still, useful things. He wasn’t all that good a teacher, but he was patient and expected you to figure shit out on your own. Sometimes he took you down to the market and showed you how to best barter.

And to steal.

Other times, he would sit and watch you cook silently. He always says your cooking wasn’t crap, so you just take it as a compliment.

Six months have passed since you first climbed the mountain. Sukuna finds you in your room packing what little belongings you have.

“That time already?” he muses, leaning against the door. You hum in acknowledgement. “What if they don’t even accept me?”

“Then you’ll return, of course.”

“That’s a nice thought.”

Of course, little did you know, but to Sukuna, that was a command.

He didn’t just watch your figure walk away, no, he followed silently behind, taking in the way you’d stop to study a particularly interesting tree or follow the clouds.

Your village is still the same. Same rickety well, same sunken houses, same sort of dreariness when you left.

You make your way towards the school house, it’s kind of near the back of the village, backed up to the lush forest. “I’ve done it!” you call, standing tall. “Not only have I been within 5 feet of his temple, I’ve been inside. I’ve had actual conversations with the demon Ryomen Sukuna.” You fish out your copious amount of notes and dissertation, shoving it in front of you.

“I’m surprised,” is all the teacher says, “give it here.” You hand him the documents, and he flips through the pages.

“So?”

“So what? For all I know, this could all be made up.”

“What? It’s not! How would I make up his favorite fruit or the way he likes his meat cooked? Papaya and rare, by the way,” you cross your arms.

“Then you should have brought him down with you.”

“You called?” his deep, rumbling voice cuts through the silence.

“S-Sukuna? What are you doing here?”

“I told you, pet, you’d return to me.”

“Sukuna-sama!” the scholar bows. “This is all a misunderstanding, their findings were great! Very convincing!”

“Give them to me.”

“Yes, sir!” he wails, pressing the papers to the other’s chest.

“You didn’t think he would actually keep that bet, did you?” Sukuna asks you.

“Well, I was hopeful!”

“Aw sweet,” he mocks you lightly. “You don’t need to be surrounded by such inferiors. Come now.” It seemed just a snap and somehow the scholar’s head was lobbed off.

You nod dumbly, barely processing what exactly just transpired. Did he kill him? For you? Surely there must be something in it for him.

But the way he holds out one of his four hands for you to grasp sets a fire in your heart. It’s small, no grassland bonfire, but a smolder that you know will become a steady heat.

His hand is rough and calloused while yours only has a few bumps from holding your ink brush so tightly and for so long. Sukuna leads you back to the temple, guiding you back into the room you stayed before.

“Why,” you ask him softly.

He shrugs. “You’re amusing to me. I like the silly words you use.”

“So you like my company?”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” he chuckles, running a hand over your head.

“Hey! You’re gonna mess up my hair!” you giggle.

“Don’t worry, next time it will be because your head will be atop my bed.” Shameless. Truly shameless. “Just keep writing about me.”

Somewhere in between you returning to the temple and now is when you find yourself tangled in his sheets. Two of his arms wrap securely around your waist and hip, another caressing your cheek. If you’re being completely honest, it seemed as if he adored you. He never coddles you per say, but anything you’d mention off hand, he would remember. An object you wanted, or even that you wanted to take a bath later that day. Sometimes he would even brush out your tangles for you.

You’re surprised by the normality of it all, how he’s gentle with you, unlike others who dare to cross his path.

Waking up together is a part of your daily routine. (Every morning, he gives you a quick kiss on the forehead.) (You trace the patterns of his tattoos lazily.) You’d ask him about you and him sometimes, and he always responds that he’ll always keep his little one happy, that you belong to him. Sometimes, in the back of your mind, you wonder if he’s actually being truthful or he’s just passing the time. Maybe the truth is a little bit of both, but you’re happy anyway.

He likes holding you, the two of you sitting by the river in the flowerbeds, watching nature for hours at a time.

Other times, he lets down his walls in the four corners of the temple. Every time he comes home smelling of blood and decay, you drag him to the bathroom and run a hot bath. Your nimble fingers glide through his hair, stopping to pull out leaves and scrub away dirt from his skin. More often than not, he would pull you in with him, your laugh ringing in his ears like bells.

But happiness must come to an end.

Apparently.

It’s a weekday when it happens.

Sorcerers.

They come in doves, feet stomping like drums.

“I guess they’re tired of me wreaking havoc, hmm?” he muses.

“There’s a lot more than usual, are you sure you’ll be alright?” you whisper softly, cupping his cheek.

He holds your hand there, leaning in and closing his eyes. “Who do you think I am? Of course I’ll be fine. You will be too.”

“Okay,” you watch him leave, a familiar aura of danger seeping in like a thick fog.

But it’s not okay.

Someone finds you and they drag you out of the temple by the hair. You’re thrown to the ground harshly.

“What, a little harlot? That demon won’t bother saving you, don’t even look at him. You’re nothing to him,” the sorcerer tells you, pressing a steel toed boot to your throat. You’re gasping for a breath, any.

“Obviously you think I’m worth something since you’re dealing with me,” you struggle to voice.

His nostrils flare, eyes wide. “See you in hell,” he snarls. You’re feeling everything and nothing at once. Surely the wound in your chest as you bleed, but you can’t seem to think of anything good or bad. You’re clutching your wound, sputtering. As if sensing you, miraculously, Sukuna turns in your direction as his fist rips through someone’s chest. Faintly, you hear a roar of anger, and then the screams around you are deafening.

The dozens of sorcerers that tried to defeat Ryomen Sukuna lay at bizzare angles, each in their own pool of blood.

It’s this horrible humorless laugh, his open mouth desperate and hungry like he wants to devour the world in punishment for taking the one true thing he held dear to him. The last piece holding his humanity together. He doesn’t know how you even got out of the temple, that’s definitely not where he left you. You’re staring blankly ahead, but he notices your hand gripping the pendant he gifted you.

Sukuna sighs, kneeling next to you, holding you close to his chest. He doesn’t know what you would have preferred: whether to be buried or cremated, and there’s no point now. Ultimately, Sukuna places you in a bed of flowers. He makes his way back to the temple, stepping around the bodies that litter the floor. Maybe he can threaten some laymen to come clean up the mess.

When he returns to the main room, the first thing he notices is the shelf with all the books you loved. Papers strewn everywhere, pages bent.

Your findings about him on the top shelf are gone.

That’s not something he realizes until much, much, much later when he’s ambushed after terrorizing another village. It’s been years without you, and yet he still feels anger of how you were taken from him. He promised he would protect you, at least, in the sanctum of his own mind, never voicing it to you. And yet, he’s failed.

Your coping mechanisms suck, you’d probably say if you saw him now. But I’ll write it down anyway, and we can cross it out later, if you want.

Like your death, he’s not even sure how the sorcerers managed to defeat him.

His twenty fingers cut up, separated through time and distance. Dormant, for now.

—PRESENT TIME—

“Oi, brat, ask that blindfold asshole what those are.”

“Ask what are what?” his host, Yuuji Itadori quips.

“Over there, on display. The books.”

Yuuji hates to admit it, but he’s curious too. How important are they to be kept here, and in a glass case, no less? Anyway, he hardly ever gets to see cursed objects in the flesh.

“Gojo-sensei! What are those!?” he shouts.

“They’re books, don’t you know what a book is?”

“Okay, yeah, but what’s their use? Like, why are they here?” Yuuji pulls at his hair.

“Hmm, they’re written by a [Y/N]. Long ago, not much information about the author, but the writing is phenomenal. And all about that little curse inside of you,” Gojo smirks, running a finger down Yuuji’s forehead and bopping him on the nose.

“About Sukuna?”

“Pretty mundane stuff, if you ask me. I’ve been told the sorcerers that defeated Sukuna used those texts. Not sure how ‘he hates when food offerings have tomatoes’ was useful, but apparently it was,” he shrugs, looking at his watch. “Ah, would you look at the time, I’ve gotta go! Pressing matters with a special-grade. And the candy shop I want to go to closes in 30!”

“Later, sensei,” Yuuji waves. “You don’t like tomatoes?”--silence-- “What, no response? You’re suddenly shy now?”

Sukuna hears him, and ignores him as per usual.

So, my little scholar’s books were stolen, huh? Here, all this time?

#sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #gender neutral reader #sukuna x y/n #reader insert

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captainsimagines · 3 years

Text

To Topple A Giant || Chapter Nine

Summary: You had made it your mission to destroy even the smallest evils. When the opportunity arises to finally take down your own family after years of gaining their trust, you reach for it. And so does Steve, the man who represents a symbol of everything you hate.

Pairing(s): Steve Rogers x Reader || Avengers x Reader

Part 9 of 10 ~ Mini-Series

Warnings: This story contains mature themes and discussions such as extreme canon violence, strong language, emotional angst, mentions of Endgame deaths and recoveries, sexual situations, and emotional/physical abuse. This is purely fanfiction.

Warnings in this Chapter: strong language; use of a derogatory slur/racist language (not said by any main character); mentions of blood and injuries; angst!

Word Count: 11,200+

A/N: One more chapter after this - I should really stop labeling this as a mini-series considering it’s already over 100,000 total words lmao. Thank you for staying with me this long! I love you guys soooo much!!!

Utah Merry Hotel, January 2025, 2:09pm

“I’m being an ol’ sport, why can’t you?” You whine, stomping your feet as you trudged up the stairs to the hotel roof. “It’s our first serious stakeout in forever! I’m pretty sure Wanda shaved her legs for this.”

Steve shoots a flustered and unsettled look over his shoulder. He’s lugging the rifles and extra equipment on both his shoulders so you know he’s truly baffled because to even attempt a look over… well, that required real effort. He doesn’t answer, however; he continues upward.

Bucky and Clint are following close behind. They’re tired, huffing every few steps and grunting while doing so. Finally, Bucky whines and throws himself against the wall dramatically. “Remind me why we couldn’t just get Wanda and Sam to lift us up there?”

Steve readjusts one of the rifle straps while he replies, “Buck, I told you not to skip leg day.”

“I skip ‘everything’ day. I’m just now employed as a superhero, thank you very much. The serum should be enough.”

“Are we even close?” Clint asks and passes Bucky on a few steps. Bucky takes that as a challenge though and hoists himself more steps before giving up again.

You just watch in pure amusement. Makes you really proud that your thighs are stronger than theirs. “Just a few more flights.”

They both groan in unison. Steve has already rounded the next flight, no longer waiting on the three of you. It takes several more minutes until you kick open the roof door Steve had left slightly ajar. It’s cold outside, wind howling with icy droplets whipping through your hair. It’s only fifty stories up but it’s pretty high - you can see the tops of the trees, or branches really. It’s winter in Utah and most of the trees are naked and covered in snow. You hope Bucky and Clint, the dynamic duo no one saw coming, still have good aim in this wind after a year of vacation.

“Alright. Buck - Clint, set up over there. Y/N, you’re over there.”

“Aye Aye, Captain.”

You set up where Steve instructed. You’ve got a simple magnifier and some binoculars - you won’t have to do any shooting today, thank the Gods. Clint’s got his arrows and Bucky’s got his sniper. Steve’s waiting for a signal from Sam if need be - he won’t need to shoot today either.

“Wanda and Sam will let us know when the cars pass the barrier. The tech cannot, under any circumstances, pass through the gate right over there.” Steve points to the giant, black coated metal gate. There’s no one on duty. You made sure to evacuate the area and any staff before. The tech these goons are bringing in is all stolen Stark Tech. And according to Happy, strict instructions are to ‘blow it to Hell’.

“And if it does?” Bucky asks, grinning mischievously at Steve’s pointed look.

“What’d I just say?”

Bucky laughs and puts his hands up in surrender. “Damn, Stevie. Calm thyne tits.” He goes back to fiddling with his rifle. “Blow the tires before they reach the gates but after they pass the barrier. Got it.”

“Peter, you in position?” Steve asks and adjusts his earpiece.

You can hear Peter over your own mic. “Seatbelts look easy enough to break. I’m in position, I can easily pull them from the trucks.”

“Five minutes then.”

You all settle in. The cold has passed through the leather of your boots and your toes are paying the price. It makes you miss the rain of spring and the sprinkles of fall, when everything is drenched rather than frozen and your toes still have mobility. Your jacket is big enough but it scratches your neck every time you lean down to look through the magnifier. As the minutes tick by, you brave the cold and take it off. You’d rather conduct your part efficiently and without the constant distraction.

“It’s almost forty degrees out,” Steve mumbles beside you. He’s looking over the roof balcony and into the trees. He’s squints and refuses your offer of binoculars.

“So I get a sore throat.”

Steve rolls his eyes, “Tony put a heater in all our suits. You should have worn yours.”

“My suit is half nano. It’s excessive for a stakeout.”

He huffs but you ignore him, choosing to look through the rejected binoculars instead. He shuffles, and then there’s a warm weight enveloping your shoulders. It’s his sweater, cotton and baby blue, and he lifts the hood to cover your cheeks and ears. Your stomach flip-flops.

“Uh, thank you,” you say and zip it closed.

Steve shrugs lightly, “Don’t mention it.”

So you don’t. He doesn’t look cold besides or he’s just really good at masking it. It’s quiet now; you can’t really hear the quiet mutters of Clint and Bucky enough to join in and to not mention the jacket is eating at you. You opt for a casual conversation instead while you wait.

“Soooo… how’d your date go last week?”

Steve clears his throat and turns to you, a forced grin on his face. “They, uh, they were sweet.”

“Sweet,” you repeat, nodding at nothing and cursing yourself for creating such an awkward moment. “Going on a second one?”

He sighs and his expression actually turns truthful. “No, don’t see that happening.”

For a second, you’re appalled. Who wouldn’t give Steve a second date? He’s an absolute catch and being a famous superhero wasn’t exactly a dealbreaker for many. Or maybe it was and Steve was blaming his alias once again for no fairytale ending. “Are you kidding? Who wouldn’t want you?”

The words leave your mouth too quickly to reel them back in. Steve’s cheeks turn pinker, both from your words and the chill, and he ducks his head low as he answers. “It’s my fault, really. They were sweet but I wasn’t paying much attention.”

“Mm, on your phone? Daydreaming? Were they a bore?”

Steve chuckles, “I pulled out my phone, like, once to answer a text but I was a proper gentleman!”

The tension is slowly melting and there’s a soft twinkle in his eye as he laughs. It’s been so long since he’s looked at you this way: on his own accord and not on order. “Bucky said they were, and I quote,” you lower your voice and look over at Bucky to make sure he’s distracted. “‘Cute as hell’.”

Steve gives Bucky a warm look. “Eh, it’s fine. Wasn’t the one.”

“The one,” you mock in a deep voice. “Who texted you that it was so important to ignore someone cute as hell?”

Steve hesitates and looks over the balcony as if wishing for an interruption. But the trucks aren’t near yet and Sam hasn’t given the signal. “Uh, it was Peter.”

“Oh, don’t tell him that. He’ll feel incredibly guilty if he ruined your chances at getting laid.”

Steve shoves your shoulder a bit harder than he intended and it makes you stumble back. He quickly catches you by the arm and holds you still, a sheepish smile painting his pink face. He mumbles a quick ‘sorry’, and goes back to lean over the railing. “It’s cool, he knew.”

You fake a surprised gasp, “Even worse!”

“He needed me to stop by the compound and I did. Really, it’s okay,” Steve assures and he’s speaking a little quicker. He fidgets with his thumbs and it looks like he wants to wrap up that portion of the conversation. But he looks over at you and sighs deeply, and he rolls his eyes as his upper lip tilts upward. “Ask.”

“What’d he want?” It makes your belly all warm to know he expects this enthusiasm from you.

“Wanted me around. Buck and Wanda were out getting dinner.”

“Yeah, but like, what for?”

He gives you a knowing smile, like you walked right into that trap. “You made dinner but Peter was too nice to say he didn’t enjoy it, so he texted me knowing I would like it. Knowing I had it before. He didn’t want there to be leftovers because then you’d be sad.”

You step back and shake your head like there’s a fly swarming around. It startles you. “You left your date… during dinner… to come to the compound to eat the dinner I made instead?”

“Don’t think too much about it.”

“How not?”

It’s five minutes when Sam calls it in. You groan in frustration and give Steve a look that says the conversation isn’t over.

There are four armored vehicles and the magnifier illuminates three bodies per car. The targets will be hit starting from the last to keep the explosions out of each driver’s line of sight.

“Target acquired,” Bucky mumbles and clicks off his safety. He closes one eye and settles comfortably as he awaits Steve’s signal.

Clint tugs back an arrow, “Same here, Cap.”

“Wanda, you ready?” Steve’s voice is lower when he’s focused. He looks over at you, your hand up with an index finger raised, and waits. Wanda answers that she’s ready and Sam counts it down. The first truck crosses the barrier, then the next, next, and finally the fourth and you drop your hand in a fast swipe.

“Fire! Go Parker!”

Bucky shoots the back tires of all four vehicles and Clint shoots his arrows to penetrate through the passenger doors. Peter works fast, webs slinging from side to side grabbing one passenger right after the other. Once the trucks are empty, Clint activates the arrows and you all prepare for the explosions. The fourth car catches flame first and Wanda contains the explosion perfectly, balling it up into a weak bundle of light and string. She does the same to the third and second, bundles extinguishing just as quickly as they burst. But the first car swings out of control on manual and the explosion is delayed.

“Clint?”

Clint leans over the balcony and squints, as if it would help. “I don’t know. It’s not going off.” He’s clicking the detonator repeatedly, holding it up for all of you to see.

“Wanda, the truck! The truck! Sam!” You scream as the truck crashes through the gate and hurls closer to the hotel. The commotion is enough for Bucky to pop out from his cover and the four of you watch in horror as the truck still doesn’t stop. Clint has stopped clicking the button, but it’s no use. The truck finally explodes in an outbreak of debris and electricity. The Stark Tech reacts poorly to the strain, electric gusts of smoke fire left and right and rattle the building. It feels like an earthquake, shaking the already weak foundations and old brick. Wanda catches the bottom to better contain it and tries desperately to smother it. But the shaking doesn’t stop and the corners of the roof are collapsing.

Steve leaps to grab and pull you away and just as quickly to catch Clint’s leg before he falls over the edge. Clint is thrown back rather harshly but Steve isn’t thinking about the abuse of strength right now - no, not while Bucky slips and hangs on to a rogue pipe. Steve crawls and latches onto his hand before the pipe gives way. He yells as he tugs Bucky up with only one arm, the other having to hold onto undisturbed brick. He won't let Bucky fall. Not again.

Bucky throws his leg up and over solid ground, and you go to help Steve pull him up. Bucky’s heavy and his metal hand pinches your skin bad but he’s safe. Wanda struggles to contain the electricity but she’s succeeding. The rumbling slows until nothing moves anymore. You collapse back in exhaustion.

“Well, that didn’t go as planned,” Bucky gasps as he rubs his face.

“Is Wanda okay?” You mumble more to yourself and struggle to pull yourself back up. But the sudden weight of your body proves too much for the edge and in a horrible wave, you’re falling through. You practically file your nails as you try to latch onto falling brick.

“No!” You feel the scratch of someone’s fingers along your forearm and soon they’re digging into your skin, and it hurts but you figure it’s better than splitting your skull open. Pebbles of concrete are falling down onto your face and the smoke from the explosion is clogging your nostrils. You hang for a few seconds, like the person can’t believe they actually caught you. Then they begin pulling you up, lifting you to safety, and you claw the rest of the way only to tumble into Steve’s chest, shaking.

He pulls you into his arms but they’re restless, roaming over your shoulders and through your knotted hair clumsily. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?” His voice wavers and he’s on the verge of tears, it seems. His waterline is glossy and his lips are quivering. “Answer me.”

“I’m fine, hey. Steve? I’m good.”

He pulls away and his hands hover you like he doesn’t know what else to do with them. “I’m sorry. I should have kept you close. I-” His voice cracks and he swallows hard. “You sure you’re okay?”

Disregarding his words is difficult, especially when you feel a second meaning to them, but you force yourself to do so. It’s been such a long time since you’ve seen him like this. And each time you have, it was never because of anything good. “Y-yeah. I’m good, Rogers.”

Bucky and Clint look at each other, they look at Steve, to you, and back to each other. Finally, Clint breaks the silence and huffs a light chuckle. “Are we really THAT rusty?”

Present Day, 2025, 11:45pm

The Montana skies are clear and free of passenger planes, allowing the Quinjet to swift easily on autopilot. You could never drive this thing and the building anxiety of that reality bubbles each time it makes an unsteady bounce.

Steve’s laying in the makeshift medical wing and though it’s against protocol, he’s on a secure line with Dr. Cho. She takes her time, albeit working as fast as possible too, and her light voice is fairly calm. It settles you to hear her speak this way.

‘I need you to use this disinfectant, Captain Rogers. Do not pour it on all at once… Good, now dig through gently and make sure the pliers are sanitized.’

Steve digs out the bullets himself and bites down on a clean towel. He’s biting down hard enough that his teeth make a squeaking sound against it. It takes every ounce of your willpower to not do it for him. The Montana skies are beautiful, at least. It’s a good distraction.

Steve gives a rather painful yell as he finally plucks the second bullet, cursing as a stream of blood drips onto the table. He’s got such tough skin - miracle or serum - that the bullets didn’t pass all the way through. Dr. Cho moves on to how to properly bandage the wound but Steve begins to tune her out.

Two years mucking through mud and bodies and getting patched up every other day has prepared him for whatever life may throw during this new century. Not much has changed, it seems.

When the line disconnects, Steve can finally just relax. He focuses on the soft rumble of the engine and your steady breaths.

You hold your breath as you settle the Quinjet on the open field, only half of you actually trusting automatic tech. Steve coaches you the whole time too, the little shit, and promises you’ll never be doing that again.

Steve stumbles and teeters and falls on the porch steps with a low groan. You let him fall because you know you’d only fall with him. He catches himself with the hand he’s been pressing over the bandage while the other still holds on to you. You fight the urge to crash down with him and bite your lip as you look up to the night sky.

“C’mon, Rogers,” you swallow down the increasing worry, “We’re almost inside.”

Steve huffs a pained laugh and nods. He grabs your arm again and with his remaining strength, pulls himself up,

The inside of the cabin looks comfier than the outside. You help Steve to the couch closest to the unlit fireplace before going out back to turn on the power. There’s a thin layer of ice in the grass so just in case, you scope out the garage and make sure there are snow supplies. Not that you really know what the hell snow supplies actually look like, but there’s a shovel and you figure that’s as much as your brain is going to piece together.

When you get back inside, Steve’s fumbling with the coffee maker and leaving tiny fingerprints of blood over every surface he touches. You don’t comment on them, just step back and discreetly wipe the counters each time he passes.

“Figured you’d like a pot,” Steve says.

It damn near breaks your heart how small his voice sounds. The fact he’s stumbling around the cabin making sure you’ve got your coffee fix while he’s nursing two bullet wounds damn near snaps it in two.

“Thank you,” you respond and go to lead him back to the couch. He moans quietly when he sits and again as you lay him down. “I hope you don’t think I’m sleeping here,” Steve laughs and tries to hide his wince due the uncomfortable rumble.

You smile and touch your hand to his hot cheek. His body is working overtime fighting off infection and regenerating tissue. His cheeks are a lovely scarlet red and so is the beautiful bulb of his crooked nose. He’s a little shiny, like varnish over light paint strokes, and taking the fever like a champ. “I’ll help you to the bed in a little bit. Let’s get that fever down first.”

Steve sighs, defeated, but nods. He lays his head back on the pillow and once he shuts his eyes, you get to work. The bathroom is stocked with the simple necessities: aloe vera, vapor rub, heating and cold pads, dozens of towels, and painkillers. You pop two painkillers yourself before gathering everything and dropping it on a nearby table in the kitchen. The coffee is about done brewing so you fill up a mug with bottled water and set it in the microwave for two minutes. You dip a chamomile tea bag a few times once the water is heated. There’s no teapot - you’ll apologize to Steve later.

Once Steve’s happily sipping his tea, you start on the medicine. You wet the small towels and lay them over his forehead and bare chest. You rub aloe vera on the other cuts he obtained from hand-to-hand and finally rub the vapor rub in the dip of his neck and just below his nose. Steve gives you this funny smile as you do so, scrunching his nose and wiggling it back and forth.

“Vicks,” you say as you show him the small container. “Heal you right up.”

“I bet,” he laughs. “Stuff smells like what I think liquid morphine would taste.” A laugh bursts from your chest, your first real instance of calm during these last few hours. You ignore his protests and smother more across his chest.

Steve settles deeper into the couch and returns to his tea. He’s got less sweat on his skin now but he’s still red. You go to pour yourself that coffee and return to his side. The nanotech is growing stiffer and scratching your skin but you refuse to get comfortable until Steve’s fever breaks. You’re still covered in Ernesto’s blood, the red now a hellish brown, and you try not to move your face much for risk of feeling the dry pull of it.

“Steve,” you try, but Steve shakes his head and makes sure to meet your gaze before he speaks.

“No. The less I know the better.”

It surprises you, makes you feel more guilty, but you understand. Not telling him the full truth would be beneficial in the long run. Still, your hands hug the mug closer to your chest. “Do you think I did something bad?”

His upper lip tugs upward, “Do you think you did something bad?”

You don’t think for long. There’s not much need to. “No.”

He nods, “But you care what I think?”

“Of course I do. You’re not just my Captain anymore - you’re my friend. I care even when I’m asking you if my eggs need more salt.”

“You trust me enough to correct your cooking?” He teases, but it’s a question disguised as another.

“I trust you enough to tell me if I need more salt. You’re not correcting it.” He laughs and dips deeper into the couch. The bandage is bleeding through, only slightly, so you move to find the first-aid kit.

“Hey, it’s okay. It’ll stop bleeding soon.”

You hum your disagreement. “I’m gonna keep it clean until you’re strong enough to shower.”

“You can always help me shower,” he mumbles into his tea.

Rolling your eyes, you gently nudge his shoulder as you sit back down with the kit. “If you fall, I can’t catch you, you big lug. We’d have to tell everyone we screwed in there because you falling on top of me, injured, is somehow more embarrassing.”

He allows you to remove the soiled bandage and dab around the healing wounds. He’s bruising around the sides, multiple shades of green and yellow already, and the holes are stitched rather poorly. It makes you feel a little better about your own criss-cross work - even Steve sucks at it.

“I’m sorry I had to go and get myself shot,” Steve apologizes and sucks in a deep breath when the towel drags a little too roughly.

“Yeah, what the hell happened there?”

He almost mimics you in the way he shrugs his shoulders and lifts his arms in that ‘well, fuck if I know’ position, pursing his lips and expelling a chuckle. “Had my gun trained on Ernesto. Ernesto had his own on Ramirez. Then Seda came in and Ernesto ordered Ramirez to hand his over to Seda. Played right into Seda’s hands.”

You process the explanation slowly and dab his wound a few more times before unwrapping the clean bandage. “And the damn shield?”

Steve’s embarrassed by that small detail, he’ll admit it, because he truly was blindsided by Seda’s appearance. You were supposed to be holding him down after all. “In my defense! When it’s shrunk down and in your pocket rather than latched onto one’s arm, it’s easily forgettable.”

You clean around the wound softly before placing and taping the new bandage. The conversation settles and you’re both quiet for a long, long minute. He thanks you for cleaning him up by rubbing sweet circles into the knuckles of your right hand. Finally, you can’t take it anymore. It’s like a wave of irrefutable worry and rage, all bunched together with each emotion trying to outweigh the other. That goddamn riptide, sucking you in and keeping your head below water just for the hell of it. Breathing in harshly, you fail to keep yourself from stuttering over your words. “I’m sorry.”

Steve bites back a groan of pain as he leans over to take your cheeks in his palms. The brush of his fingertips lets you know that you’ve already started crying. You don’t much care about the facade anymore. “Doll, listen to me. Listen.”

“I never meant to leave you alone.”

“You never did.”

You bark out a wet laugh, sarcastic. “I should have run faster. I should have killed him all those years ago. I should have never brought you into this.”

“You did what you had to do,” he says, fiercely. He forgets his own strength for a second, only slightly diminished from the healing process, and loosens his tight grip against your cheeks. “You did what you had to do to survive.”

“I wanted to hate you,” you admit. Your bottom lip is trembling and your hands clench together over your thighs. “I wanted to hate you so much. If I did, then you getting hurt or killed on this mission wouldn’t hurt so bad. I hated you for what you did. Because it made me realize that I could never hate you at all.”

“Hey,” he tries, hands now lowering to clutch at your own. “Stop apologizing for having a heart. Stop thinking you’re not worthy of even having one.”

Your face crumbles and Steve realizes for the first time in a long time just how much you’ve been holding in. “Why didn’t you use the stones?”

Steve’s heart clenches at the sound of the crack in your voice. He hasn’t heard that crack since Clint fell to his knees without Natasha by his side. He holds onto you tighter and prepares himself for an admission he never thought he would ever have to give. “Because Peggy told me not to.”

Something confusing happens in the middle of your chest. It clenches with anger but understanding. The answer to your question was always this simple but it looks like it’s tearing Steve apart from the inside-out.

She’s as beautiful as the day he went into the ice. All he has to do is whisper her name so sweetly, delicately, and she turns her head like she’s answering the prayer. First her knees buckle, eyes watering and blotching her vision, and she collapses on the soft grass of her backyard. Steve’s holding her the very next second, repeating that he’s real, he’s here.

“Steve,” Peggy gasps, hands shaking as she brings them to his wet cheeks. She grips and pokes and does everything so comically that Steve laughs a wet laugh when she starts smacking him. “What is going on?”

And he tells her. Everything he can remember: the good, the bad, the wretched. He spills everything, and he spills the most delicate information of their time: he’s alive, just frozen; Bucky’s alive, just hurt; the world is saved, just broken. Whether she believes it or not Steve’s not sure, but he’s so goddamn happy to see her again that he chokes every other word.

“And you? You’re happy?”

His eyebrows come together and he looks at Peggy like she’s speaking another language. She’s got the same red lipstick, same curl in her hair even if it’s longer now, and she’s filling out her dresses more. “Pegs, don’t ask me that.”

She detaches herself slowly from his arms, pausing their dance as she speaks. “Why not? You can’t expect me to accept that you stopped by to see me all willy-nilly after saving the universe.” Her lips twitch into a knowing smile and Steve melts. Her voice is sending him into a spiral, a world he never thought he would see again, and he realizes just how much he loves accents on women - especially this woman.

“I just,” he chokes out, and brushes his index finger down her cheek. “I had to see you again.”

“I get that,” Peggy says and pays no mind that the record player has stopped; she still sways gently with Steve. “But you’ve just mentioned a whole other world you’ve been a part of. You’ve got your best guy back, that Wilson fellow sounds like the life of the party, and this Agent Y/N certainly sounds like she’s been by your side through it all.”

Steve stutters in his step and holds her closer. Her stomach presses against his, and he stops abruptly. He looks down between them and runs his hand from her shoulder, down, to lay across her growing belly. “Pegs.”

She gives him the same wide and proud smile she gave him when he returned with the 107th. She lays her hand over his. “I know.” She laughs and tilts her head lovingly. “I’m happy, too.”

Steve bites his lip to keep from sobbing. He was so stupid for coming to this timeline, for ruining Peggy’s chance at happiness, for interrupting the life he already knew she created for herself. He inputted the wrong year, he suddenly realizes, and steps back arms-length from her. “I’m sorry, I was stupid to come here. I just wanted to see you and then I did, and I… I still love you, Pegs.”

“Oh,” Peggy gasps, bottom lip trembling. “Darling, do not mistake yourself, even for a second, into thinking that I do not love you too.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing for having a heart.”

He wants to argue, say he’s stupid a million more times, but he finds himself listening to her gentle words. It’s Peggy, Steve thinks. She’s always been right.

“In this world you live in, you have James?” He nods. She continues, “In this world you live in, you just lost two of your most loved friends?” He nods again. He wipes his face from forehead to chin. “In this world you live in, you have met a woman who has the same stubbornness as you; has the same self-sacrificing streak, who has your heart in such shambles that you dare call her one of your best friends?”

Steve thinks of you and how broken your smile was as you waved him goodbye, hand clenching Sam’s as Steve gathered the stones and Mjolnir. He thinks of the times you’d leap onto his back and demand a ride; the times he’s saved your ass in a firefight; how his sleep has definitely improved ever since he started calming you from nightmares - he hasn’t slept so well since before the war. He nods again.

Her eyes go soft. “Steve,” she starts and Steve knows. He doesn’t want to know. “Don’t abandon the world you’ve built for yourself. Surround yourself with the people you love. Do this for me.”

“There’s so much hate and blood waiting for me when I get back, Pegs. I don’t want to-”

“There is a difference between you not wanting to and you having to.” He drops his head and focuses on the floor. Peggy isn’t done grilling him, however, and he looks back up to grant her the respect. “You must not abandon the world you helped create. I’m not saying this to be mean. I’m saying this because I know you don’t want to.”

“Pegs.”

“I see right through you, Steve. We marched together through mud and blood before. We’ve got two years of fighting side by side under our belts. I’ve seen you at your worst, and you I. I know that face anywhere.”

“I missed you, Pegs,” Steve breathes. She cups his face with her hands and draws their foreheads together.

“The stars weren’t written in our favor. But to know that you’re alive, and that you make it, and that you actually get to live,” she bites back a sob. “I couldn’t ask for anything more.”

“It isn’t my world to begin with.”

“No, you’re a man out of time. But so is James. You won’t abandon him now, will you?”

He chuckles low and their noses touch. “Stop making me feel guilty for wanting to find you, Peggy.”

She presses a soft kiss to the side of his mouth and finally breaks away. “And you won’t abandon that sweet girl who has put up with your nonsense for the last five years, you say?”

Steve shakes his head and meets Peggy’s gaze. “I’m just tired.”

“They are too, I bet.” He turns to the door and to Peggy, and she figures it’s almost time for him to leave. “You have been the archer and the brave, Steve. I’m absolutely certain you’ve been more. You will be more.”

Steve says his final goodbyes and stops to remember the fine details of Peggy’s face. The fifties are treating her well. Steve expected nothing less. Bright lights flash around him and he’s back to the world he wanted to leave, to hide from, and he sees you - and your mouth parts in shock.

“And you listened to her?” you ask.

Steve smiles, although it’s hard for him to remember that conversation. “I came back. I didn’t listen to her when she said to surround myself with people who love me, and who I love in return.”

“No, you made damn sure of that.”

“Hey,” Steve chuckles. “Don’t take smacks at me when you’re down.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Sorry, it’s just too easy sometimes.” Laughing about the two years of missed chances and spoiled friendship was not on your bingo card for this week.

“I don’t know how this is going to play out,” you admit. Steve looks so young with a somber expression: his eyebrow creases gently without wrinkling the rest of his forehead, the side of his mouth tilts downward, and his eyelashes kiss the pink of cheeks. “I decided in the moment. So I’m fuck all out of ideas on how to proceed.”

He nods in understanding. “Guess we just have to look over our shoulders three times instead of two now.”

“Simple like that?” You scrub a hand over your face and curse inwardly when you smudge your lipstick down to your chin. You ignore it. “I know we’re Avengers, but.”

“No buts,” Steve says and moves to sit up. You help him by pushing his shoulders and he accepts your help as you struggle to the bathroom. “You helped the guy and his daughter. I’m sure he’s going to be watching our backs from now on.”

You help Steve strip from his dress pants and shoes and finally remove your suit as well. The graze on your arm is covered in brown, dried blood but the wound isn’t deep. It’ll sting like a sunburn, you know that, but it’s better than being shot through. You watch Steve enter the shower and leave the curtain drawn. His bandage is soaked again but thankfully it’s from the water and not more blood. You grab a spare towel and soak it with water and soap, and rub it across your lips and chin.

“Let me do that,” Steve calls. You strip bare and bring the towel with you into the shower. Steve takes it and scrubs over your face, gently but more rough as he gets to your eyes. It’s an innocent moment of ‘ouch, scrub softer!’ and ‘surprised I didn’t take all your lashes off’. He helps clean your wound as well and once you’re both clean, he bandages you up and you him.

The master bedroom is the only room without electricity so you gather some candles. It’s like the two of you won’t admit you’re currently afraid of the dark or what may lie in it. They illuminate the room in a delicate orange and it’s such a peaceful color to briefly see before falling asleep, head tucked into Steve’s chest and his heartbeat thrumming gently with your breath.

It’s a wonder what a night’s sleep can do. Steve’s wounds are sealed and his fever is gone, but there’s a signature left behind. A pink and white patch of skin as tender as a newborn’s, a memory. Steve pours your coffee and his tea while you trace your fingers over it.

Two hours after eating a small breakfast and securing the perimeter, a soft ding startles you from the random book you’re reading. Steve’s phone shines with a message from Sam. It simply reads: ‘Clear’. Grabbing the phone and walking out onto the porch, you find Steve sitting on one of the steps he tripped over just yesterday. He’s sketching the sky and the trees, taking his time on the lines of the branches, the strokes of the leaves, and the frost over them. He looks up, studies his surroundings, and looks back down to add a detail he previously missed. He sniffs, rubs his nose, and finally notices you leaning against the doorframe.

“Hey,” he says, soft. “Any news?”

You hold up his phone and nod. “Sam says we’re clear to fly in.”

Steve looks back to his drawing. You hesitate before speaking, knowing damn well an all clear means get your ass back as soon as possible. “Finish your drawing. I’ll pack whatever we need to.” Steve’s mouth parts but he shuts it just as quickly. Slowly, he nods.

There isn’t much to pack since you brought nothing but the clothes on your backs. Everything at the hotel was collected before the wedding and should have flown back with Scott and the others. It feels awkward stealing bottled water and processed foods to hoard on the quinjet, but it’s a necessity. Steve meets you at the quinjet doors, shows you his drawing, and volunteers to take the wheel.

“You’re not volunteering. You’re ordering.”

Steve rolls his eyes, “No license, no drive.”

“What are you? A cop?”

“Don’t think for one second I won’t actually hand the wheels over and happily crash while screaming ‘I told you so’.”

Steve steers for the duration of your flight. The next few hours are spent just enjoying each other’s company, speaking of all things and simply catching up. It’s amazing how much you two missed from one another’s lives those two years.

The landing base is clear and it’s Sam who’s waiting for you as the Quinjet manually lands itself. He shoots you a gap-toothed smile and extends his arms, pulling the two of you in at the same time for a strong hug. He’s talking a mile a minute about how successful the mission was, how Fury is over the moon that it’s finally over, how the DEA is thinking of congratulating everyone one by one. It’s enough to distract Steve, who’s just happy to see his best friend again, but it isn’t enough for you. The large metal doors sealing the storage facility from the rest of the compound are thrown open. Bucky stumbles through and practically sprints over to the three of you.

“Get back on the jet,” he orders, already pulling you by the arm. You all look at one another like he’s gone mad but that’s impossible. Bucky’s paranoia isn’t something to take lightly; he’s right nine out of ten times.

“Buck, what-?”

“Rhodes couldn’t hold them. They have warrants, Steve.”

Steve hauls Sam onto the jet as well. “Warrants for who?”

“Get down from the jet without a fight and this will all go smoothly.”

There are about twenty uniformed officers surrounding the jet. They spread out in case anyone decides to run but it seems pointless to even try. Secretary Ross points his gun directly at you, proud and tall and looking just the same as you remember him. Last time you saw him was at Tony’s funeral.

“What do you think you’re doing?” you bite, and raise your hands in cooperation. Ross shakes his head and his expression contorts into one of disgust. There are red beams coming from each gun but your friends are clean - the beams are only pointed at you.

“Agent Y/N Y/LN, you’re under arrest for multiple charges of drug smuggling, trafficking of illegal goods, the murder of Ernesto Vega and Daniel Seda, aiding and abetting drug-lord Omar Ramirez, and for conspiracy against the United States of America. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a federal court of law...”

You drone out half way through. Ross finishes up the speech but no one is listening. Sam is already yelling over your Miranda Rights and Bucky’s frozen in place. Steve’s fighting his way through to Ross, pushing through the muscle until he’s face to face with him. But Ross isn’t fazed. There’s nothing left to do but exit the jet.

Immediately there are handcuffs slapped to your wrists. Two men drag you over to the containment car that’s enforced with so much indestructible material it’s almost insulting. You weren’t enhanced - they were doing this for fun.

“You’ve got it all wrong! Y/N! Y/N!”

You don’t fight. Conspiracy… you’re surprised they didn’t just shoot you dead. Steve’s still yelling, begging to be heard, but you try to block him out. It’s not your first time being arrested but it is your first time being charged with something you didn’t do. As funny as that sounds, it’s terrifying.

“Steve,” you say, and Steve breaks through some more hired muscle so he’s within earshot. “It’s okay.”

His face pulls up in pain, “No, you didn’t do this! They’re not listening!”

One of the officers pushes your head down roughly and tries to shove you in the backseat. You’re still looking at Steve. And those eyes, wounded and vulnerable, haunt him even after the door shuts and the car drives away.

There’s a privilege attached to the mantle of Captain America. Perhaps he was too blind to see it during the war or just too proud he was finally being heard and respected, but now he sees it for what it really is. It’s a mantle this country has never truly associated with the person but with the purpose. Steve was manufactured to help protect this country under government orders and when he defied that purpose, he disgraced the mantle. Seems like some people idolize the role a little too much.

But he’s still Captain America. This reality has continued to clear his name from stunts he pulls and laws he breaks. And once Steve is able to walk away without so much as a scratch, he leaves bodies behind.

Sharon. Sam. Bucky. Wanda. And now you. All people who fought his fight and weren’t granted the quick privilege of that perceived pureness and holiness. He was always ready for combat, he was built for it, but he didn’t really want it.

Did he?

Ripping that star off his chest was one thing. Accepting his new shield cemented his continual legacy as the Star-Spangled Man. He deserved to be in that cell with you. But if he learned anything about how the world works, it’s that cruelty doesn’t just win in the movies. All of his enemies started out friends and if he had to bet, he’d bet the reason they’re labeled as such is partially because of him.

So he sits and listens to everyone’s ideas and plans, vetoing and dismissing one right after the other, his mind doing jumping jacks. He’s both there and not, drowning in the fact that he made it home and you didn’t. He doesn’t know how to sleep without the sound of your snoring anymore.

He sits and listens.

The cell isn’t one you would expect for someone who has been charged for betraying her country. It’s modestly furnished: a black cot in the far right corner with a mini table beside it, a desk with some paper, and a door that leads to the private bathroom. All in all, the room’s size is that of a child’s bedroom; there’s no actual pens and pencils for risk of violent behavior and there’s a bulb camera that moves when you move.

You’ve been trapped in worse.

Countless detectives and investigators have visited already. They all ask the same questions: Why did you do it? Did Captain Rogers know? Who are you, really?

You give the same answers: I didn’t do it. Of course, every single person knows. Who do you think I am?

Every time they leave more discouraged than the one before them, refusing to compare notes with one another in case they were in possession of gold. They all ignore you when you try to ask for Steve and his wellbeing. Their faces contort, they whisper to their partners, and they shake their heads in disappointment. One even goes as far as to threaten you, warning you to keep Captain Roger’s name out of your wetback mouth or else, until he’s escorted from the cell. Not that it really matters - the manipulated ideals of these people will always blur their search for the truth. And when the truth fails to satisfy such greedy manipulations, they choose to create their own.

There is one agent who peaks your interest. He offers you gum when he settles in the chair near the door. His name badge reads ‘Kavert’; it glares in the bright lights overhead and he makes no other attempt at small talk once he gets comfortable and opens his little notepad.

That goddamn notepad, you think. Every single person before has prided themselves over it, scribbling little notes about your tone of voice, body movement, and vague answers. You never give much, Natasha had taught you better, so they always end up writing less than two bullet points before giving up.

But Agent Kavert surprises you by opening up to a blank page, spitting his chewed gum in the middle, and then he shuts it closed. He offers you a real smile, one that doesn’t look practiced or forced. It lets you study him without being so guarded or uncomfortable. He seems young, not really a rookie but it’s obvious he’s spent more time behind a desk than out in the field. His dark hair is short, sprinkled grays near his temples, and his attire screams upper level. His build is lean, his gun is in the holster on his right hip, and a part of you knows he’d put up a hell of a fight if you tried to escape.

“I was gonna comment on what lovely weather we’re having, but I don’t think you get out much.”

You’re startled into a real laugh. Satisfaction washes over his face.

“I think you’re wasting your time, Agent Kavert.”

He grins and moves to proudly pull at his jacket and present his badge. He sets the notebook to the side and leans forward to cup his hands together on his knees.

You squint at him. There’s nothing interesting about you right now: back against the wall as you sit criss-crossed on the cot, sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt, hair brushed but a little greasy. Your last shower was two days ago and you figure they’ll let you have one tonight.

“Yeah, you’re right. There’s no point in hoping you’ll tell me anything you haven’t shared yet.”

“Nope.”

He hums low in his throat and tilts his head to the left. Now, he squints at you. “I just don’t get it. How did you do it? Not show up on our radar, I mean?”

It doesn’t seem like he’s calling you guilty or innocent. Already he’s one-hundred percent different from the other agents. “I wasn’t exactly hiding.”

He sits up to lean back in the chair, “Different last name, government and Avenger protection, covering your tracks so carefully even the DEA missed you.”

“You’ve done your homework.”

“Yes, but,” he starts. He acts like he’s having a normal conversation on his front porch. “It still doesn’t make sense. How could Nick Fury miss this? Tony Stark? After the whole Obadiah situation, I expected him to-”

“It’s simple, really. Do you want to know or do you want to keep making assumptions?”

He’s watched the other agents leave by this point. Some couldn’t even make you talk. So he shuts up and waves his hand for you to continue.

“Cool,” you breathe out. “First of all, I’m literally only telling you this because I’ve already been refused a lawyer or some crap like that and I highly doubt this is going to actual court. The publicity would be horrible.”

He bites his lip but you catch the little smile forming. You continue, “And I have nothing to hide. I’m sure my Captain, my teammates, and Fury himself have given their sides. Am I right?”

Agent Kavert adjusts himself in the seat and nods in response. He doesn’t dare interrupt you now.

“Good, then I’ll keep it sweet. They knew who I was. I was recruited to be an inside source, a double agent, and this wedding was the perfect chance to corner those men,” you declare, turning your hands palm up and shrugging your shoulders. “There, happy?”

“Double agent.” Agent Kavert chews over the words, rolling them around on his tongue a few more times. He’s squinting harder and you can see his brain working. The next sound to leave his lips is a heavy sigh and a feeling of immense irritation washes over you. It wasn’t enough. “Are we going to be truthful yet, Agent?”

Chuckling lightly, you rest the back of your skull on the wall. It was wrong to assume he’d be any different from the others. “Of course you don’t believe me. You want more, they all do. I don’t suppose I have anything better to do.”

He claps his hands on his thighs and leans forward again, loud and restless. “Then let’s get started, really: Did you or did you not let Omar Ramirez, Mexican drug-lord involved with Ernesto Vega, your father... imagine that, run away from a crime scene, evade arrest, and possibly leave the country?”

“You expect me to follow all those questions?”

“It’s not the time to be funny.”

“You were enjoying it just a second ago,” you mumble. He raises his eyebrows, still waiting for an answer. “Then let me put it simply: no, I did not.”

“Did you or did you not assassinate Ernesto Vega?”

“I would have remembered such a brilliant kill if it came from my gun.”

“So that’s a no… Daniel Seda?”

“His gun was pointed at my Captain. Yes.”

“Against orders, then?”

Confusion is written all over your face and you make sure the camera knows it too. There are only so many times you can repeat yourself. “Don’t you have Steve’s report? Scott’s?”

“We have to hear the story from you, Agent.”

“But that’s just the thing, isn’t it? You don’t believe me.”

He shrugs and quickly scans you up and down. Even if he doesn’t have the tangible notepad in his hands, he’s getting away with making mental notes. “The story just isn’t piecing together the way it should be. Why would Daniel Seda murder his greatest ally and friend?”

“Our mics have already transcribed that answer for you, sir. I’m sure of it. And I’ve got sources outside of the DEA and Avengers-”

“Like Maribel Rodrigo? Another smuggler who has operated inside the cartel, HYDRA, Madripoor…”

You cut him off, angry. “Not the full story.”

Tone of voice: defensive.

“Then that leads me to my next question.”

“Oh, fun.”

Tone of voice: sarcastic.

He speaks with a tinge of astonishment hidden in every syllable. “Why didn’t you do it? Kill Ernesto, I mean.”

“I was disarmed at the time. The Captain and I both were,” you answer, growing more impatient by the second.

He uses his hands to speak now, finger pointing along an invisible timeline detailing the order of events. “So you admit you were going to kill him if you had your weapon.”

“Don’t put words in my mouth.”

Body movement: rigid.

“Or maybe you weren’t. Maybe my boss is right, maybe the FBI is right in thinking that you are a double agent leaning more towards your roots than our boys in blue.” He says this like its scripture; like it’s some holy conspiracy he’s just found evidence for. He wants you to plant words in your mouth and in this discussion so he can pluck the evidence from the ground and water it with fire.

You scoff hard, “I hardly ever wear blue when doing your job for you.”

“Was letting Omar Ramirez escape our job or just yours?”

Telling him the truth would mean losing all credibility, all titles, all trust in your work. You know what you’ve done and you don’t regret it. Ramirez was never the biggest fish and if you spun this right, then he was simply a fish who got his meal and promptly swam away. “You assume I let him go. What evidence tells you that?”

He ignores the question and instead asks another of his. “Why were your relations kept hidden from SHIELD and the FBI?”

“That’s a question for you know who.”

He shakes his head in disappointment. “You’re in a lot of trouble.”

“I bet I am. But this is not some precinct where you can get my team to turn on me so easily. And this is not a situation in which they’re lying for me. I trust that whatever the Captain has said is the answer to all your questions.”

“We’re gonna unravel this case. We’ll get to the bottom of it.”

You’re suddenly overcome with a wave of sleepiness. These past two weeks have been exhausting even if you haven’t moved more than five feet from wall to wall. Having to repeat yourself to people who have already written the story for themselves is tiring. “I don’t know why you guys can’t just believe the words of myself and everyone vouching for me. We got you all the evidence. We have given you more names and connections that you’ll ever know what to do with. You don’t need to unravel anything; it’s all there! But because we weren’t able to arrest the one person you wanted, that being Ernesto, you go after me. You have White but I guess he’s not talking. And you’ll believe what you want to believe.”

“I trust my gut.”

“As simple as that, huh?” You sigh deeply and cross your arms over your chest. “You know, there’s a saying the late Agent Carter used to tell all SHIELD agents when they first started out and when they came back from missions. When she retired, it was Fury who then eased our minds.”

Agent Kavert has a harsh line creasing through the middle of his forehead and he looks deeply interested.

“There are three sides to every story,” you recite. “Your side, my side, and the truth.” A gentle shrug of the shoulders feels like all you’re allowed to give him. “I’m not lying to you but I’m not telling you the full truth either. Just my side.”

Agent Kavert shuts his eyes and bounces his left leg. He looks conflicted and unable to formulate a response at all. He’s shaking like he’s at war with himself or with the suits on the other side of the door, but no one has come knocking yet. “Let’s say I believe you. Just for a second.”

You nod.

“Daniel Seda murders Vega at his own daughter’s wedding. We managed to catch Marcus White and because of fault entirely, Omar Ramirez gets away. Because from what I heard, Ramirez was working with you.” He paints the picture rather mundane, but you shoot him a smile that tells him he’s on the right track. “And you and all the other Avengers were blindsided by Ramirez. You gathered all the evidence you were told to gather, worked together and played your cards right, infiltrated one of the most secure estates in the country, and fucked up so badly that you managed to let two of your biggest giants die?”

“I really think you got it spot on.”

He laughs dryly, “But it still doesn’t make sense. Once Vega was gone and Seda survived, where would you have fallen in this tree?”

He wants to retract his question the moment he sees your face fall with such a sincerity he wasn’t ready for. “That’s just it, Agent Kavert. I would have fallen.”

“And the other two? How would business work? Would Daniel Seda have been the head of it now?”

“Your answers are in the evidence we gathered. I know you guys aren’t touching it because you think I’m compromised.”

He stands from the chair and dusts off his jacket. “Your side, my side, and the truth,” he repeats. He goes to open the door but you speak quickly before he can leave.

“They think I infiltrated SHIELD, the Avengers, and am in bed with HYDRA because they’ve been helping Ernesto’s vision all along.” Agent Kavert stops and turns back to you. “I am a double agent whose identity was kept secret to aid this country and not raise suspicions from your part. I have seen a lot of things, have done things I’m not proud of, but I’ve done it all for a reason.”

Agent Kavert looks almost ashamed. Tone of voice: sincere.

“Me and my Captain saved lives, our own as well, and we stopped three of the most notorious drug-lords who have been at large since the eighties. We got your giants for you. And the truth is, I have discovered: through all my pain and experience... that it’s excellent to have a giant’s strength; but it is tyrannous to use it like a giant.”

Agent Kavert doesn’t know if you’re talking about Ernesto, the U.S Government, yourself, or him. His eyebrows pinch together and he slowly moves to leave the room.

It’s another week before you’re visited by someone who isn’t bringing you food or extra toilet paper. You’re picking at your cuticles when the vents above your cell begin rattling with the obvious weight of a human being. You sit dumbly on the bed, straining your ears and trying hard not to laugh as each rattle is returned with a muffled curse. The vent on the ceiling right outside your cell drops to the concrete floor.

Ernesto’s men wouldn’t go through all that trouble to kill you James Bond style. They would have just bribed a guard. So it’s a treat when the door swings open quickly and in comes a staggering Clint, keys in one hand and his phone in the other. The screen is illuminated, showcasing what looks to be blueprints. He’s got a bandaid over his left eyebrow and dust all over his clothes.

Your upper lip twitches into a silly smile. “You’re ridiculous if you thought you wouldn’t be heard in those damn vents.”

Clint makes a noise that sounds like he’s saying ‘maaaf’ and he plops down beside you on the cot. It’s absolutely hilarious he traveled in the vents and that the team approved this when in reality, they could have just sent Scott. “Just had to get past the first line of security. Plus, the blueprints said they were wider... I figure we’ve got a good three minutes before they check the cameras.”

It’s not the first time you sit in a cell with a time crunch.

The Raft is nothing special. They have you all separated by rank, meaning you were in the same vicinity as Clint, Sam, and Scott. Wanda was moved to a more secure location and you haven’t seen her since they brought you in.

There isn’t much to do in a place like this. You tried counting how many strands of hair you had but gave up once you counted two hundred; you tried seeing if the others could hear you when you yelled out to them but the cells were soundproof; you even tried filing your nails against the uneven paint on the wall. It’s like they made life in these cells purposefully horrible - like you didn’t save the world a couple times over, c’mon.

The camera fidgets over your head where you’re laying down and after a few seconds, it stops. The red light slowly fades and turns a bright yellow. You move to stand on the bed and reach for it, but a voice startles you from doing so.

“Don’t mess with my magic!”

You topple over the single pillow you were given and fall flat on the bed, scrambling to shield yourself from whoever intruded. “Jesus!”

“Oh, I met him. Strange lad, didn’t deserve what happened to him.”

There’s a moment where you think you must be dreaming. His hair is longer and hits his shoulders and he’s added some blue and yellow to his usual attire. But other than that, he’s alive. Truly, brilliantly, really alive.

“Loki, what the fuck?”

“Right!” Loki claps his hands and extends them outwards, smiling. “Ta-da!”

A few beats pass. You blink a few times just in case you’re hallucinating. Barely a week in containment…

“I’m sorry… I’m still trying to process the fact that you’re still alive!”

He scoffs low and goes to sit at the edge of the bed. “A God never truly dies, darling.”

“Well in Greek mythology-”

“Greek mythology and I have this unsettled beef that’s been going on for about five hundred years. Do not mention Greek mythology to me.”

“Excuse me, right, I should have known that was a sensitive topic.”

Loki swipes his tongue over his bottom lip and expels a laugh. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Your restraint is gone and you lunge forward to envelope him in the tightest hug you’ve ever given anyone. He returns it, sighing into your shoulder and holding you close. You pull away just to stare at him, watching his features as they move ever so slightly. It’s really him.

“I-” Loki tries but stutters. He’s studying you too and he almost looks sad. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

“Does Thor know?” Loki shakes his head at your question and winces when you smack his shoulder. “Loki, Thor has been grieving you for months!”

“I’m planning on it!” You don’t believe him. He goes to rub his shoulder. “Gods, I forgot you had excellent aim.”

You look back at the camera and find that the yellow light is still glowing, dim. Loki’s magic is blocking footage out or putting footage in, you really don’t know. But it’s allowing you a few moments with the man you thought you’d never see again. “Spontaneous reincarnation aside, what are you doing here? How did you even know I was here?”

“I’m on this planet for five-FIVE minutes, and the television has all these reports about you and everyone fighting each other?”

“Mm, right, right.”

Loki stares at you, amused. “... Care to explain?”

Your face contorts into a hundred different expressions until you finally settle on one of gentle guilt. “The person we were after was a friend of a friend. I made a judgement call and let him go.”

“You went against orders?”

“I went against the law.”

“Even better.”

With an eyebrow cocked, you give him a judging look. “Loki.”

His eyes crinkle from the intensity of his smile and you’ve missed him, you missed him so much. “That’s what I love about you. Barely starting out as an Avenger and you’re already realizing you can do more good in your own way.”

You groan quietly and rest your head on his shoulder. He wraps his arm around your waist and tugs you closer. “I mainly did it for Steve. Wasn’t like it was a big ‘fuck you’ to one-hundred and seventeen nations for the hell of it.”

“Do you regret it?”

“No.”

“Spoken like a true anti-hero.”

“You comparing me to yourself?”

Loki chuckles and runs his fingers through the strands of hair closest to your cheek. “Darling, I’m a God. No one comes close.” He sighs, serious again. “All I’m saying is that it’s refreshing to see the young break the rules.”

“I missed you,” you softly say. You can feel the nudge of his cheek turning upward against your head.

“Always nice to hear.”

Rolling your eyes, you move to meet his gaze. “So, no reason why you came to visit me specifically?”

Loki takes one cautious look at the camera, to outside your cell, and back to you. “I too do things for your lovely Captain.” His smile grows wider.

“What?”

He winks and tilts his head over to the giant metal doors that are starting to pry open. “See you in a minute.”

The alarms begin blazing; there is fog filling the room, and Steve emerges from that fog with a winning smirk.

You look over at Clint, half selfishly wishing he was Loki on another one of his midnight visits, and quickly do away with the thought. “So how’s life without me?”

“Oh, it’s great! The flowers are in bloom, the kitchen isn’t always a mess, and my bow and arrow aren’t misplaced because you wanted to have some fun with it,” he jokes, stretching far enough that his feet dig into your thigh like he’s trying to make more room for himself.

“Not like it’s your only bow and arrow.”

He chuckles and sits up. He does a once over of the room and adjusts the frequency on his hearing aid. “They read you your rights at least?”

You wait to respond until he finishes fixing it. You speak and sign the words slowly, “I don’t think any lawyer in America will want to take this case anyway.”

“Yeah, you’re right. It’s a career killer.”

Trying to refrain from smiling around Clint was nearly impossible. You look to the door quickly, “Two minutes?”

He shoots up straighter as he watches your hands, “Right! So we’re currently tracking down your sister-”

“My sister?”

“Steve thinks she’s our only hope at clearing your name.”

“Why is that? I told her to get as far away as possible.”

Clint sighs and scratches the skin just above the bandaid. “She stayed in Mexico all those years you were gone. By all accounts, Ernesto adored her. Because of that, her influence might clear your name.”

“But she stayed. All the more reason to believe she was involved as well,” you say, shaking your head.

“She’s barely out of her teens. Everything that happened, happened when she was a minor. She has a first hand account of the abuse Ernesto caused you. And Steve thinks that the Julian fellow might even come clean and admit to the arranged marriage. Shows a pattern of abuse by Ernesto to his own children. Could spin it to make it seem like you had no other choice but to follow his orders.”

You follow his hands slowly, some signs difficult to read but you latch onto the gist of his argument. You groan and lean your head back on the wall with a small thump. “They go against Ernesto and they have targets on their backs. Even my other siblings who are still involved with all of this won’t let it go.”

“Y/N… Ernesto’s dead. You know that.”

“His influence isn’t.”

There’s minimal commotion a few doors down. Clint realizes it’s time to leave. “It might never be. But we don’t get to live in the future.” He stands with another small groan and stretches as he prepares to lift himself back into the vent. “We’re living now, and it’s all any of us can do.”

“Clint?” You also stand and have to wave in his peripheral to get his attention. He turns and knows what you’re about to say even without the hand gestures. “They won’t answer me when I ask.”

His lips pull into a perceptive smile, “He’s okay. Doing what he does best - blaming himself.”

“Oh, okay, good.”

He’s had enough practice reading your lips to notice the sarcasm that drips from them. He hurries to lift himself up. “We’ve got about a million tricks up our sleeve. If Jackeline’s word or the evidence isn’t enough, we’ve always got Fury and his blackmail.”

“Yeah, half the guys who interviewed me look like they cheat on their wives, so.”

He genuinely laughs and jumps high, muttering more to himself than to you. “Up we go…”

The team locates Jackeline just a few days after your run-in with Clint. The building saw a triple rise in security but even then it didn’t prevent undercover agents passing all the checkpoints and sliding notes with your meals. They’d leave the tray, tip their hats, and smile like they knew the cameras wouldn’t suspect a thing.

The first note is from Bucky, with the simple message of ‘I watched a few episodes of The Crown without you… I’m sorry.’

The second comes on the same day at dinner time, this one from Wanda. ‘I think Peter is trying to flirt with your sister.’

The third isn’t slipped through with any meal, but rather through the tiny opening beneath the door. ‘Surprised we did this the legal way this time! See you soon! - Rhodey’

The final one is actually hand delivered when several guards come in to tell you you’re free to go. They’re mumbling amongst themselves, cursing the system and the privileges Avengers always get, when the smallest of the five turns to you and hands you the note. ‘I owe you one. You owe me one. Who’s counting anymore? - Joaquin’

Jackeline had been able to track down Maribel and the two of them, with such accuracy in their stories and their timelines, constructed your defense perfectly. They showed them phone records, all of the recordings from that week, had proof that you never signed a thing, and made several special deals. Jackeline promised to reveal where bodies were buried, where business was dealt with, who else was involved with Ernesto and Seda. Maribel managed to get a message to them from Ramirez, which basically cleared you from the crime they were trying to stick. Ramirez was a damn good liar, you’ll give him that, and it made you the tiniest bit sad that you’d probably never see him again.

The tipping point was when Steve turned himself in. There was no evidence that you did anything, never signed anything, never conspired behind your teammates backs. Fury made sure not to keep a paper or electronic trail. But there was evidence that implicated Steve - the contract. No matter how badly the FBI and CIA tried to make it go away, to absolve Steve from it, he didn’t back down. It was like the story they originally wanted toppled in on itself and it was actually Steve who forced you into all of this - playing your connections and forcing your hand. The contract hadn’t been voided, still hasn’t, and they really couldn’t risk another SHIELD fiasco. So it was destroyed to protect the Stars and Stripes, and in return they promised to let you go if you didn’t tell a soul. The image you’d come to despise, that tacky red, white and blue, is starting to grow on you.

‘Let me think about that and get back to you,’ you had joked. You think they let you go sooner because they feared the truth in your joke.

But there wasn’t anything to think about, ever, still isn’t. Steve pulled another sacrifice play and you wanted to get out as soon as possible to kick his ass.

You leave the prison with the same clothes you had on when you entered. They smell washed and you’re thankful they allowed you to shower before you left. You ignore the looks guards and prisoners aim at you, each trying to somehow get their hits in without actually pulling their punches. This would be a media disaster either way, didn’t matter the outcome of a supposed trial, and PR was most likely struggling to prepare their defense.

You resist the embarrassing urge to run into his arms. He’s standing right outside the gates, leaning back on the passenger side of his rusty old blue pickup, positively glowing underneath the blazing sun. You’re blinded by it, skin thanking the dangerous rays for its first touch in weeks, but it only takes a moment for your eyes to adjust. He still hasn’t shaved and his hair is getting longer, and instead of his usual tucked-in dress shirt, he’s wearing a brown leather jacket over a faded graphic tee that reads AC/DC. It was Tony’s.

You’ve only got the broken burner phone and a hair tie in your possession; it’s what was on you when you were arrested. You drop the burner in a nearby trashcan and head on over to the truck. Steve’s wide smile buckles your knees and it damn near breaks your heart. Even when the two of you weren’t on speaking terms, you still saw each other at least twice a week. Going two weeks without seeing him feels like a lifetime.

Once you're a few feet away, you stop in front of him. There are no immediate words you know to say, so you simply shrug your shoulders and give him a look that asks ‘What now?’

“Home.”

TAGLIST: @dumb-ass-writer @justab-eautifulmess @supraveng @mycosmicparadise @missnighttigress

#captainsimagines #captain america x reader #steve rogers x reader #reader x steve rogers #avengers fanfiction #avengers x reader #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fanfiction #marvel masterlist #marvel fanfiction #mob fanfic #reader insert #trigger warnings listed #you x steve rogers

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lexi-evans · 3 years

Text

𝙷𝚎𝚛 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚝 | 𝙲𝚎𝚍𝚛𝚒𝚌 𝚍𝚒𝚐𝚐𝚘𝚛𝚢 𝚡 𝙼𝚎𝚛𝚖𝚊𝚒𝚍! 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛;𝙵𝚝.𝙳𝚛𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚢

Pairing: Cedric diggory x fem! Mermaid reader and Harry x Draco and professor's Remus Lupin x professor Sirius Black!

Didn't really plan on making it this long but—

CEDRIC LIVES! (I CAN'T BELIEVE I WROTE A FIC THIS LONG!! WHAAAT? —also please like and reblog🥺 I worked really hard on this fic) ❤💛💙💚

“But—professor if you already knew about then why call me, now? Why not before?” You asked, patting the fawkes on his head, gently. As it sat on your lap. Professor Dumbledore peered at you with his half moon glasses.

“Because we need you're help—now” You were surprised when he said, why in the world anyone would need you're help? “I'm sorry—professor, I don't quite understand, what you're saying”

Professor McGonagall entered the room and sat by the nearest couch.“No one knows the black lake better than you do, Y/N. That's why we need you're help” Professor McGonagall said.

“what is this about professor?” you asked, curiously. None of this make sense at all. “The second task, Y/N. It's in the Blake lake. We're going to take who is more important to our champion's and put them under the Blake lake, with a very powerful incantation. And the champions has to rescue them before 1 hour passes” professor McGonagall explained, you carefully listened to everyword she spoke.

“Wait—what? Er,you mean the task is in the black lake!?” she nodded her head, you shook you're head violently. “No—professor! This is a bad idea! If anything happens—then everything will go wrong, I can't—I'm so sorry, professor”

“Y/N, I believe you made a few friends in the black lake?” you nodded, “only a few—you have no idea what kind creatures lies in those water, professor. You're risking lives!!!” you said, you're patience wearing thin.

“I know—I know, you know the underworld better and this is where we need you're help, alright. You're job is to look after the champions, just making sure they don't get any injured—you're not allowed to help them but only make sure they make it out, alive”

“Make it out, Alive?” you sighed, heavily. You don't want anyone to get hurt, Not Harry, Not cedric, No one! “Alright, I'll do it—it's not like I don't want them to get hurt—I'll do everything in will, to protect them” with a heavy heart you agreed, at least for the sake of Harry.

Ever since his name came out of the goblet, he isn't himself. His boyfriend, Draco is doing his best to cheer him up. You felt the urge to protect the kid, from anything. He, of course is like a little brother to you.

“well, that's settled then” clapped professor Dumbledore. Professor McGonagall stood up from her seat, gesturing you to come along with her. “professor, you do realize what you're doing is not okay, right?” You asked, as both of you exited dumbledore's room.

“I know, Y/N. It's not in my hands to stop, now isn't it?—don't give it a much thought,alright? You'll be fine, don't worry”she said, giving you one last hug before leaving you alone.

Sighing you skipped down the Hallway, when you heard familiar laughs coming from the classroom. You turned around and decided to go in. “No—Sirius! Stop!! I can't brea—Ah, Y/N.” remus said, Sirius stopped tickling him.

“Hi, Y/N.Out for a walk, eh?” Sirius asked, settling down on the chair next to remus. “No, professor—I just talked with professor McGonagall and professor Dumbledore” they looked at each other, before looking at you with a confused face. “About the second task” their faces turned serious when you mentioned the task. You took a seat on one of the benches, Sirius looked at you intently. “Did Harry figured out about the egg, professor?”

“No, Y/N. He still didn't, says it makes a horrible noise whenever he opens it” Remus said. “The Blake lake” you glanced at both of them. “The second task”.sirius looked frightened, scared for his godson. Remus had a horrified look on his face. “That's what they said—I was planning on telling, Harry but since he hasn't figured out about the egg. I'm not going to—”

“It's okay, Y/N. There's nothing we can do, can we?” Said, Sirius. You shook you're head in pity. “what were they even thinking, Remus? They're going to kill these children with these kind of dangerous tasks”

“but—what does have anything to do with you, Y/N”

“You'll see professor, it's not for me to tell you—but you'll see. Please not worry, I'll do everything—anything to protect him. I give you my word” you were not kidding, when you said that. In fact, you meant every word in that.

You stood up, wanting time for you're own thoughts, “I'll take my leave, professor's and please don't tell anyone about this” they nodded slowly. You went outside.

Straight to the Blake lake, you stared at the water, intensely. Slowly loosening the tie around you're neck, you took of you're robes and jumped in the lake. In blink of eye, you're tail appeared with a huge splash, you dove in.

“Moony, I'm so scared—what if? What if something happens to him in the lake? It's too dangerous, Remus”

“I know, Love. But we can't do anything— remember what Y/N said, this has to do something with her. Trust me, she's an amazing witch I've seen—she gave us her word, I can see she meant it” Remus spoke softly, taking in sirius hand slowly rubbing it gently on his tender skin. Placing a soft kiss on his forehead.

“I just hope you're right, moony”

“But—I'm always right!?”

»»——⍟——««

The following week went by, swiftly. You became close with the members. Especially Cedric. At first you just thought he was a show off because of his fanclub but he was genuinely nice.

Fleur... Well, she's great. Such a sweet person. Sometimes you get confused when she speak but she's cool.

Krum.. Well, you only managed to speak with him few times and... Yeah, he's not much of a talker.

Harry, you adore this kid. You knew him since first year, he's you're friend and obviously Draco too. They're such a cute couple, you absolutely love of those kids.

“Hey, Harry! Draco” You sat next to them, Harry smiled at you gracefully. “Hey, Y/N, morning” said, Draco. Despite, the fact that he's a Slytherin. Ever since Harry and him started dating, Draco spent most of the time with you guys.

“so, Harry. Did you figured out about the egg, yet?” He nodded.

“I did, Cedric gave me a clue though —wouldn't have done it without him” Harry spoke quietly. You remembered the night, the little adventure you guys did, or so it seemed like, in the prefects bathroom.

“Come on, Ced!” You giggled, dragging cedric with you towards the prefects bathroom. You're footsteps echoed through the wide hall. “Y/N!! Slow down!” He laughed at you're excitement. “Oh, My snail walks faster than you” the moon was shining, bright. You felt wide awake just as the moon itself.

You said as you both came across the statue of Boris the Bewildered. You stood by the door and whispered the password “pine fresh”

The door creak sound echoed, meaning the door opened. Pushing the door, you ushered cedric to move along.

It was softly lit by a splendid candle-filled chandelier, and everything was made of white marble, including what looked like an empty, rectangular swimming pool sunk into the middle of the floor.

About a hundred golden taps stood all around the pool’s edges, each with a differ- ently colored jewel set into its handle. There was also a diving board. Long white linen curtains hung at the windows.

A large pile of fluffy white towels sat in a corner, and there was a single golden framed painting on the wall. It featured a blonde mermaid who was fast asleep on a rock, her long hair over her face. It fluttered every time she snored.

“Y/N, what are we doing here? I'm a prefect, myself. You know I can report you, right?” he said, teasingly. You rolled you're eyes, playfully. “Not if I told you, I know how to figure out the egg, right? ” his eyes widened.

“go ahead, ced—report me” you grinned, devilishly. “no, you don't!” you looked at him, dead in the eye and said “Try me” before walking towards the pool and slowly took off the shirt, exposing the skin underneath.

“Y/N—you do realize I'm right here, right?” Cedric blushing madly. You stood there, in your bra and shorts on. Giving him a 'really?' Look. “I'm aware” you said, bending slightly pulling your shorts down slowly.

Cedric stood there awkwardly, looking at everywhere but you. You turned around placing your hands on you're hips. “You're not really planning on taking a bath with clothes on or, Are you?”

He shook his head, with his cheeks dusted with crimson colour. Without any further a do, you jumped into then pool and splashed water on him. “Hey!” He scowled lightly. “hEy” you said in mocking tone.

“Haha—very funny, Y/N” he said, you're getting impatient “don't just stand there,you daft–bimbo! Get in” he rolled his eyes before started taking of clothes his own. You swam around, making sure you didn't make such a mess.

You're hair slowly, turning into (F/C) color. As you're tail slowly, came into the view, “if you do—Y/N!! You—what?” you giggled softly, turning around to face him. You're skin,looked little paler than before.

You batted you're eyelashes playfully at him, looking at his shocked face with you're (F/C) eyes. “Like what you see, cedric?” you said, teasingly smiling at him sheepishly. The whole school is going to see you in you're mermaid form when the task day comes.

His gaze still lingered on you're lower body. You stretched out your hand, asking him to take it. When he touched it, you pulled him into the water. Laughing hysterically. “Gotcha”

He got up, and glared at you. Whistle you were still laughing at his face. “You better stop laughing, L/N” he said, watching you laugh at him. “Or what you gonna do?” you asked moving a little bit closer than you guys were already there.

“You might not it, L/N” He only called you, L/N when he's being serious. You, however find it very hot. He was only a few inches away from you. His few drops were dripping from his hair, “Oh, I think I might”

His eyes flickered down to you're lips and then your eyes. with any warning, he smashed his lips against yours, you immediately kissed him back, wrapping you're arms around his neck, smiling into the kiss.

You are absolutely smitten for this boy, it's been only few days but you felt like you know him from years. You're relationship with him.. Is magical.

“didn't think that would happen” He spoke breaking the kiss, as both of you ran out if breath. “did you?” you grinned, kissing him,again. After you're make out session.

“you were born with this?” He asked, you nodded shrugging. “A half—mermaid” You laughed a little playing with the bubbles. “I was born this way, I can change my appearance, at will”

“Kind of, messed up, isn't it?” You asked, blowing the bubbles. He shook his head, “I think you're pretty amazing and you're beautiful no matter what you are—human or—mermaid”

You faced him “Really?” Looked at him shocked. All you're life, you thought you were just—

“yes, you shouldn't talk about yourself like that Y/N—” He wrapped his arm around your shoulders, you rested on him. “It isn't always our choices, for everything we got. I love you and you also should love yourself” he placed a kiss on your temples.

You never felt so safe and this secured before. Does he truly care about you?

“So, how does this work?” He asked, holding the egg in his hands. “put it under the water” He did what you said, luckily this time it didn't scream. “Now wh—” you pushed his head under the water, along with you.

“Come seek us where our voices sound,

We cannot sing above the ground,

And while you’re searching ponder this:

We’ve taken what you’ll sorely miss,

An hour long you’ll have to look,

And to recover what we took,

But past an hour — the prospect’s black,

Too late, it’s gone, it won’t come back.”

You laughed as cedric took deep breaths. Then he turned to you “what does that supposed to mean?”

“Am I going crazy or —is Diggory seriously staring at our Y/N?” Draco asked, narrowing his eyes over the Hufflepuff.

Hermione who also noticed the famous Hufflepuff staring at you, laughed. Ron just rolled his eyes, went back to eating his food. You were too busy talking with Harry, you didn't notice.

Draco knows what you guys were talking about so he didn't bother asking, he trusts you. Were like his big sister, for both of them. These two were also very overprotective for you. Says they don't want to get you, heartbroken.

“Y/N!! I keep telling Draco—I don't dance and he says He'll teach me!” said, Harry Irritatedly. You laughed. “I will teach you!!!”

“No!!!” Harry dramatically whines. You glanced at hermione who's biting her lip to control her laughter, once you're eyes met both of you burst into laughter. “come on, Harry—I mean how bad could you be at dancing,hm?”

“You have no idea, Y/N. Last night , we practiced the dance together because he wants to impress our little ferret here. In conclusion, he suck at dancing” Ron exclaimed, following with a heavy sigh.

Draco pouted looking at Harry, omg he's so cute. “For me? Pretty please?”

“Stop! No not those eyes—draco!! Fine” Harry reluctantly, agreed. Who can say no this little cutie here, eh? The lot of you, continued eating, talking and lots of giggles from you, Hermione and Draco, though.

“Okay, alright—Let's talk about Y/N, here” Draco hushed them all, you laughed a little“what about me, dray?” you asked, confused. “Any reason, why diggory can't take his eyes of you?”

“what are you talking about, Draco—I don't, I don't understand?” you said, dryly.

“professor—you don't understand! If cedric really cares about me, then—I—how am I supposed watch over the others?” You panicked, looking at professor McGonagall. “I shall talk to professor Dumbledore about this situation, Y/N—don't worry”

“what about cho? She's close to him. She's his best friend!”

»»——⍟——««

The yule ball came, quickly. Cedric asked you to the ball which you gladly said yes, for. The night took it's toll. Professor McGonagall and professor sprout were standing behind you as you stood in front of the mirror. Looking at you're reflection.

“professor i—don't think I can do this!” you said, nervously. “Nonsense dear, you look amazing” professor sprout said, professor Lupin came into the room. “Professor McGonagall they—need you in the great hall”

Professor McGonagall nodded before leaving, you were standing in her room for Merlin's sake.she always looked after, as if you're her own but you never understood why? Nevertheless you were glad to have her. You were grown, alone. Having her always made you feel,happier. Professor sirius I mean black—peeked into the room. “Oh my—Y/N you look splendid!”

“Really?”

“Yes, Y/N—”

“professor McGonagall chose this dress, for me”

“Minnie, did a great job then!” Remus smacked sirius head, you giggled at you're professor's. You were always close to almost every teacher, except snape. You never understood why he's always so cold?

“The real talk is about you professor's!” you said, grinning. “You two look wonderful, rather very charming” You said, teasingly. Remus let out a laugh. Sirius flipped his hair “You can say it, Y/N—you're astronomy teacher looks better than DADA teacher”

“Enough! With the chitchat! Time for the ball, Let's go” said, professor sprout. “chop chop” The entrance hall was packed with students too, all milling around waiting for eight o’clock, when the doors to the Great Hall would be thrown open.

Those people who were meeting partners from different Houses were edging through the crowd trying to find one another. You slowly made you're way towards the stairs. You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself.

“well, don't you look—magnificent” you heard a familiar voice behind you, smiling you turned around. “Thank you, Freddie” he smiled along with his twin. “Seriously, Y/N. You look amazing—now I regret not asking you to the ball” said, George.

You giggled, “You alright?” Fred asked you, you looked at him, nodding. “Just..... Nervous” They smiled, softly. “There's no need to be—Diggory's got the most amazing girl” Fred kissed you're forehead.

“come on, we'll escort you to you're date” George offered his hand. You neatly tucked in you're arms linking with both of them, Fred to your right and George to you're left.

At the entrance of the hall, you found cedric standing nervously. Beside of Draco and Harry who couldn't wipe the grins of their faces. You have to admit it—they're such a cute couple.

Harry nudged the older's side, cedric finally lifted his head up. And his eyes met yours. His jaw almost dropped at how beautiful—gorgeous you looked. Harry and Draco smiled greatly at their friend. You we're striking down with the twins elegantly,arms linked with yours. He swore he never seen someone so breath-taking.

Carefully, step by step the twins helped you walk down because it's a little bit hard walking with such a pretty dress and heels. And they led you to Cedric “Hi” You said, anxiously. “Hey... —you look angelic”

“And you better take good care of this Angel, mate” Fred slowly pulled away his arm. Angelina came towards Fred smiling happily. “Don't want any broken bones now, do we?” George winked, as they head off.

“Mischievous one's, aren't they” He laughed, you turned to Harry who was smiling at something Draco said. “Harry!” You hugged him,“Hey Y/N” He hugged you back. “My little prince Charming is looking good in his suite” you ruffled his hair.

“I'm here too, you know” Draco rolled his eyes, it's clear he's jealous. “Aww, c'mere” You hugged him, softly pecked his cheek. “you're so cute, when you're jealous did you know that? No wonder Harry likes you so much” you pinched his cheeks. “Are you boys, ready? I wanna see my favorite couple rocking the floor” you said, feeling more confident than you did before you got here.

Cedric laughed, as if you said something silly. “well we d—” Professor McGonagall’s voice called, “Champions over here, please!” “I'm so not ready—let's do this” said, Draco. You giggled softly.

Professor McGonagall, who was wearing dress robes of red tartan and had arranged a rather ugly wreath of thistles around the brim of her hat, told you guys to wait on one side of the doors while everyone else went inside.

they were to enter the Great Hall in procession when the rest of the students had sat down. The doors were closed. “Ced—Cedric stop! Stop staring at me like that” you said, blushing. He smiled, like he's achieved something great. But he was genuinely liked you for real.

“You look marvelous, did you know that?”

“Oh my god” you covered you're crimson face, with your hands. “do I have to dance?” whined, Harry. Draco rolled his eyes at his boyfriend. “come on, Harry! You'll be fine! Just look at me, only!”

Once everyone else was settled in the Hall, Professor McGonagall told the all of you to get in line in pairs and to follow her. You've done what you've been told and everyone in the Great Hall applauded as all of you entered and started walking up toward a large round table at the top of the Hall, where the judges were sitting.

The walls of the Hall had all been covered in sparkling silver frost, with hundreds of garlands of mistletoe and ivy crossing the starry black ceiling.

The House tables had vanished; instead, there were about a hundred smaller, lantern-lit ones, each seating about a dozen people.

The light music echoed, alarming it's time for dance. Cedric gently placed his hand on your small waist, taking your hand in his. In the corner of your eye, you saw Harry and Draco who were grinning like idiots.

“I like this” you said, staring into his eyes. “I like being with you” you said, making it a little bit clearer. His face soften at you're words. “Thank you”

“For what?”

“For making me feel this way” you said, placing your head on his chest, listening his heart beat as you guys continued dancing slowly. “it's too early, I know—but I love you” said, Cedric as his grip tightened. You lifted you're head looking at him, shooked. More people joined the dance.

“you mean that?” He nodded, “I know it might seem like a joke—but I'm being serious” He said, sincerely. You waited for him to say ‘I'm kidding’ or ‘sike’ but nothing came.

You pulled away you're arms, quickly wrapped them around him, pulling him into a tight hug as if you're life depends on it. “don't leave me”

“I'm not planning on it, darling”

Both of you continued dancing for the next few minutes, till you saw professor Lupin and Professor black sitting on one of the chairs. “I'll be back” you said, hurrying over to the couple.

“Hello, Y/N—having fun?” Remus asked, generously. You nodded “Clearly, you're not! Come on professor” You extended you're hand. “professor black!” you gestured towards the dance floor. Sirius took you're right hand, and stood up.

“Don't be a part pooper,Remus! Get up” said, sirius. You laughed “Don't want to keep you're boyfriend hanging professor, come on—look even Harry's dancing!” Remus finally gave in and stood up.

You led both of them, next to Harry and Draco. “You better not step on my toes, black” threatened, Remus. Sirius chuckled. “Since when did I ever step on you're toes, moony”

Remus rolled his eyes at his boyfriend, playfully. “I see what you did here” Cedric whispered in you're ear, you shrieked. Slapped on his chest, lightly.

“C'mon, Love!” He dragged you away from the couple so they could have some privacy. On you're way you saw Dean and seamus. Dean looked so done with his Boyfriend.

Seamus caught your eye and waved, Dean then followed his eye and quickly waved when he saw you, you waved back smiling. “Having fun?”

“Not much fun but since I'm with him, you know I can say a little bit fun” said, Dean boringly.

You leaned forward and so only they could hear“I overheard professor Dumbledore talking about the weird sister's performance here, now. Get ready, shit's about get wild”

Seamus cheered loudly but dean shushed him off. You winked at them, walked away with Cedric. “we'll sit down for a bit! I know you want to dance for weird sisters music”

You grinned, he's just caring for you. The two of you talked for a while until Dumbledore stood up

and asked the students to do the same. Then, with a wave of his wand, all the tables zoomed back along the walls leaving the floor clear, and then he conjured a raised platform into existence along the right wall. A set of drums, several guitars, a lute, a cello, and some bagpipes were set upon it.

The Weird Sisters now trooped up onto the stage to wildly enthusiastic applause; they were all extremely hairy and dressed in black robes that had been artfully ripped and torn. They picked up their instruments.

“C'mon ced! Let's go!! It's the weird sister's!!” you clearly forgot you're wearing heels and decided it was the great idea to run and almost fell, Cedric was quick enough to catch you just in time. “Easy there, love”

The crowd danced wildly, you laughed loudly as you're hair dances behind you. Dumbledore was waltzing with Madame Maxime.

He was so dwarfed by her that the top of his pointed hat barely tickled her chin; however, she moved very gracefully for a woman so large. Mad-Eye Moody was doing an extremely ungainly two-step with Professor Sinistra, who was nervously avoiding his wooden leg.

“HEY Y/N!!!” Harry yelled, getting a glimpse of you dancing in the crowd with Cedric by you're side. “ALRIGHT THERE, 'ARRY?”

“I THINK DRACO IS GONE MENTAL”

“IT'S JUST THE MUSIC!! LET IT FLOW!!”

The Weird Sisters stopped playing, applause filled the hall once More. And another song, started playing but this time it's faster. You came across Fred and Angelina, who were dancing so exhuberantly that people around them were backing away in fear of injury.

You pulled Cedric by his tie so he can leaned down “like I said Shit's gone wild” You yelled in his ear, causing him to grin. “Of course”

By the time songs ended, you were exhausted. Cedric noticed this and slowly led you out of the crowd so you can have some breath. You're face turned red and sweaty from all the dancing. “well, that was fun” Said, Draco from behind.

You noticed the couple walking towards the chairs beside you. “I wish this night was longer” you breathed, Cedric looked at you confused “why?”

»»——⍟——««

Before you know it, the day finally came. The second task is today. The entrance hall contained a few last-minute stragglers, all Leaving the Great Hall after breakfast and heading through the double oak doors to watch the second task.

All the students made their way to the Blake lake, as awaits the boats to take them to the stands. Almost everyone left, You walked with Harry by your side. “Alright there, Harry?” he nodded. “You?” you shook you're head. Sirius had his arm on Harry's shoulder and Remus was walking along side with him.

“All my life I only hid my secret... Away from this world. And now—I just. Don't know” He nodded understanding. The night on the yule ball day you told Harry and Draco about what's going to happen.

“I hope Draco is alright, can't find mione either” Harry says, disappointed. “They were held as hostages, Harry. Last night I went in there, to look—took permission from professor Dumbledore”You said, kicking the small pebble. Remus and Sirius looked at you with widened eyes.

The four of you reached the dock, Harry, Remus and Sirius got inside. Remus extend his hand for you to take and get in. You shook you're head, while laughing.

“She doesn't need a boat, Remus” said, Harry smiling. You winked at him. “You guys go ahead” They nodded, paddling the boat. You watched them go a little bit furthermore.

Sighing you took off you're clothes and started sprinting down the dock, then jumped into the cold water.

“Miss Y/L/N? Miss Y/L/N? Are you here?” professor Dumbledore called out, no one responded. The students looked quite confused why professor Dumbledore is looking for you. Cedric eyes searched around, but couldn't find you.

Suddenly, you're head popped up from the water. Professor Dumbledore let out a relief sigh. As students gasped. “can't get rid of me that easily, professor” He laughed. To others you looked like a complete different person but with same face.

Lugo bagman stood up pointed his wand at his throat as he had done at the World Cup, said, “Sonorus!” and his voice boomed out across the dark water toward the stands.

“Well, all our champions are ready for the second task, which will start on my whistle. They have precisely an hour to recover what has been taken from them. On the count of three, then. One . . . two . . three!”

The whistle echoed shrilly in the cold, still air; the stands erupted with cheers and applause; without looking to see what the other champions were doing, Harry pulled off his shoes and socks, pulled the handful of gillyweed out of his pocket, stuffed it into his mouth, and waded out into the lake.

You waited patiently for professor dumbledore to give the signal. You were used to this cold temperature but you don't know long they can be in their. “Miss Y/L/N, here is going to look after our beloved champion's since she knows the underworld better and has known for year's—I must warn you, better not make any remarks about Miss Y/L/N or—we'll be have to make sure, none of you does it, again”

“Wicked” said, the twins at the same time. “GO! Y/N!” Cheered Ron, loudly among the students. You waved at him. He grinned

“Miss Y/L/N—it's time”

“wait! —” said professor black. Sirius walked over to the edge of the stand and leaned forward you swam a little bit further so he could speak with you.

“Please, look after my godson Y/N. I'm counting on you” he said desperately. “Please not worry, professor. I'll protect him no matter what—I promise”

You turned around and dove in, making you're tail splash huge mount of water.

You swam as fast as you could—there's no sign of anyone. You came across forests of rippling, tangled black weed, wide plains of mud littered with dull, glimmering stones.

You swam deeper, hoping you could find any of the champions. Then you caught a glimpse of Harry, He got his wand out of pocket and used a spell on the grindylow.

You sighed in relief but immediately panicked when you saw more grindylow's surrounding Harry. You swam, faster and then you hit few of them with you're tail. Then used you're hands to make bubble boost making knocking them unconscious.

“Harry!” you hugged him, “Are you okay? Are you hurt?” you're eyes scanned him for injuries. He has few scratches on his legs, “Y/N! Please I'm fine” He said, swimming away. You watched him leave, well at least he must've known what he's doing.

You turned around and swam further searching for other champions, your hair flowing behind you. The deeper you went the more eerily the surroundings got. Some things wrong, you can feel it.

You were about to turn around until you heard something coming from the deep, dark green weeds. You know it's dangerous, even for you. But you went in. What if someone got stuck?

You're eyes widened, it's fleur she's got struck in between the weeds and few grindylow's were attacking her. You kicked away few of them but many more are coming. You have to get her out of here. You used bubble blast, again but there's too many of them.

You managed to get them off Fleur, she's crying in pain you can tell. The problem in being water is—no one can understand you're pain, you can't feel the tears. You made a huge wave, and sending it straight towards them.

Knocking them off, “Fleur? Fleur!” you called out but she doesn't seem alright. You held her tightly and swam towards the stands very fastly. It hurts a little bit, putting too much pressure but you didn't care.

All you cared is about saving her. The crowd waited anxiously for someone to arrive, You're head hit the surface.You swam toward the deck “Professor!!!” you called out for help. Professor McGonagall who is closer to the deck, came in to give a hand. Madam maxime gasped “Fleur!” she looked horrified.

“She's unconscious! Help her—I have to go back” You quickly spoke to Professor Dumbledore, beside stood professor Lupin and professor black worriedly.

You know the exact location where the hostages were held, you're sure the champions must've found them by now.

When you got there, Harry was surrounded by the merpeople, a spike was held near neck as he was floating near Hermione. You angrily swam, towards them. “Get back!!!”

Of course they know you, you came in here more than twice, every week. You went in front of Harry, protectively helding him back.

“You take your own hostage,” one of them said to him. “Leave the others . . .”

“No way!” said Harry furiously — but only two large bubbles came out.

“Your task is to retrieve your own friend . . . leave the others . . .”

Harry shook his head, furiously. “Harry! Take Draco and leave—she's krums hostage” you said, calmly. “please”

He sighed in defeat. You turned around when you saw Cedric swimming towards you. He pointed towards the watch, the time is almost finished. He cut cho free.

“Is krum coming?” you asked, he nodded. “Go” He swam away, with cho in his arms. Even though you know she's his friend you can't help but feel jealous a little bit but you trust him.

a human body in swimming trunks with the head of a shark. . . . It was Krum. He appeared to have transfigured himself — but badly.

The shark-man swam straight to Hermione and began snapping and biting at her ropes; the trouble was that Krum’s new teeth were positioned very awkwardly for biting anything smaller than a dolphin, and Harry was quite sure that if Krum wasn’t careful, he was going to rip Hermione in half.

Darting forward, Harry hit Krum hard on the shoulder and held up the jagged stone. Krum seized it and began to cut Hermione free. Within seconds, he had done it; he grabbed Hermione around the waist, and without a backward glance, began to rise rapidly with her toward the surface.

You smiled proudly at Harry's actions. He could've just taken Draco and leave but he wanted to make sure his friends were alright.

He turned to you. “Fleur didn't make it, Harry” you said, worriedly. Her sister... If Fleur didn't rescue her and then—she's gone?

His eyes widened, Harry tried to speak but only bubbles came out his mouth. “if we don't rescue her now and then she's lost to us”

He looked around, the merpeople isn't anywhere near you two. “I'll take care of them, you go” he nodded in agreement. Harry darted forward and began to hack at the ropes binding the small girl to the statue, and at last she was free.

He seized the little girl around the waist, grabbed the neck of draco's robes, and kicked off from the bottom.

You were too busy, dealing with the merpeople you didn't notice some of them slipping past and went towards Harry. “Argh!” you winced when the spear peered you're skin on lightly.

Over the surface;on the stands Cedric was facing back and forth. The time is almost over and Both Harry and you didn't return. He knows something gone wrong. “I'm going in” said, Cedric removing the towel that was wrapped around his muscled body.

“Mr.Diggory—it's against the rules, you're not allowed to go in” Cedric let out a frustrated growl.

No matter how many you fought, it seems they keep coming. Finally, you looked at Harry. His flippers were gone, he was struggling to swim with Draco and Fleur's sister.

Harry no longer can breathe oxygen, with all the strength left he pushed Draco and Fleur's sister towards the surface. The merpeople surrounded him. “Harry!!” You kicked away, the merman and swam towards him quickly. You glanced at the surface, Draco and Fleur's sister are safe. Draco helped Gabrielle swim towards the stands.

You caught him, but suddenly, a grindylow came out of nowhere and gripped on you're tail. You yelped. Using the strength left in you're hands, you blasted away the grindylow. You guys were few feet away from the surface.

You pushed Harry towards the surface and then sent a wave with you're tail causing him to break into the surface. You felt enormously relieved.

Harry breathed heavily as he reached the surface. He swam towards the stands. And was immediately wrapped up in towel. “Oh, Harry! Finally!” Draco kissed his head, hugging him tightly.

Cedric made his way to Harry. “Ha—Harry where's Y/N?” He asked, worriedly. “she's—still inside, i—” He was cut off when Sirius walked over and hugged him tightly. “she saved me” he finished taking in deep breathes. Everyone looked at the water worriedly.

You got away and popped up into the surface, right in front of the docks. Professor Lupin helped you get up on the stands, you were still in you're mermaid form. You breathed heavily, you laid on the deck. Cedric walked over to you, taking you in his arms protectively. He wrapped his towel around you.

You're eyes shot up, “Harry!” you searched around, he over to you with Draco by his side. “I'm here, Y/N” He smiled, “thank god” you breathed out. “No, thanks to you” said, Draco gracefully.

You laughed, leaning back onto Cedric's chest. He placed a kiss on your temple. “You got me so worried, Y/N” you smiled. “I couldn't be more thankful to you Y/N, for what you did! I owe you” Draco hugged you.

You stretched out you're left arm, motioning Harry to hug you. He smiled, and joined you three. “Thank you, Y/N” Draco said, again. You just saved his life (his and his life? Harry is his life so his life, I say).

He pecked you're cheek, just like you do for him. You didn't stand up, because of you're tail. And you don't want to shift back because.... You're clothes?

Harry pecked your other cheek, causing you to giggle. The others seemed to be in aww at you're interactions with the boys. Fleur walked over to you guys. “You saved me, thank you, Y/N. Harry thank you for saving my sister even though she's not yours”

“well, I have loads of help” he said turning to you. You giggled hugging him, Draco smiled widely. “And you—you helped her” she said turning to Draco, he might have helped her sister swim “Ah, yes a little bit” she kissed his forehead “thank you” she left went back to her sister.

Draco turned to you guys with a weird expression“didn't expect that”.

“I could never thank you enough for what you did today, Y/N. No matter how many times I say it, it wouldn't be enough” said, Sirius seriously.

“thank you for keeping you're promise, Y/N” said Remus sincerely. Harry looked shocked “You promised them? To keep me, safe?” you nodded. “I didn't save you just because I promised them, Harry. I saved you because you're my friend—a brother—a family—I love all of you” you said looking at Cedric, Harry, Draco, Hermione, and ron who stood by her side then Sirius and Remus. You smiled widely.

“A hug?” you asked, sheepishly knowing you'll be crushed the next second. Every one hugged you. You felt tears glistening in your eyes. You may not have grown up with love and affection in you're life before you got into hogwarts.

But you never felt so loved before. “come on, Y/N. Let's get you dressed” said, Cedric and tried to pick you up, but you slipped out, “Nah-huh I'll meet you at the land” you said, jumping in the water purposely splashing water on everyone.

“Y/N!!!!”

“IT'S SO COLD!! HARRY I'M SO COLD”you heard draco's voice, saying dramatically. “I only think you're hot, draco” “THIS IS NOT TIME FOR FLIRTING!”

»»——⍟——««

Few years later;

“I can't believe this is happening” you said, trying so hard not to cry. It's you're graduation and now you know it's time to say goodbye to the place you called home for years.

“Yeah,I'm gonna miss this place” Said, Cedric looking at the fountain in the courtyard. “I'm gonna miss everyone” you said, as a tear fell from your eyes. “me too—gonna miss the adventures that and competition's which nearly killed us” He wrapped his arm around you.

“Remember how we met? I was assigned to watch over you guys” you said, recalling the memory. “I do”

“and I'll never forget it”

“So, now what do we do?”

“I'll be in training to become an Auror”

“I know” “I love you” “I love you too”

“Y/N!! Y/N!!!” you looked up and saw Harry and Draco running towards you. You smiled at them, over the years they've grown up so much.

You still remember the greesy haired Draco and messy raven Harry like it was yesterday. “Hey boys” you said, blinking off the tears. “we know it's you're last day at hogwarts” said Harry hiding something behind him.

“So—we got you a present” beamed Draco. “Aww, you know you guys don't have to” you smiled at the younger. “don't be so nice, Y/N—you're gonna love it”

He showed you the present—“is that a pygmy puff?” you gasped, “oh my god, it's so cute” you squealed. “yep, got one from the joke shop—Fred and george gave us this for free” said Harry

“when we said it was a gift for you, of course” Draco laughed. You took the small pink fluff ball into you're hands, you almost melted at how soft it was.

You handed the pygmy puff to Cedric, he gently held it in his palms, it looked so small in his hands🥺 You hugged Harry and Draco tightly.

You'll miss these boys, the most. “I'll miss you two, so much” you said, through tears. “us too, Y/N—don't worry! We'll graduate before you know it and then visit you whenever we want” beamed Harry.

You laughed, “Of course! Anytime you want, doesn't matter” Draco bought up his sleeve and wiped off you're tears.

“We'll see you soon, Y/N”

»»——⍟——««

“NO! WE'RE GOING TO MY USE MY LAST NAME!”

“NO!! WE'RE GOING USE MY LAST NAME”

“WHat is going on?” you heard familiar voices, turning around stood there Fred, george and Your husband, Cedric in their suits. You let out a frustrated sigh. “They're arguing over who's last name they're going to use”

“Are you kidding? The wedding's in 5 minutes” said, Cedric checking his watch.

“Now they're arguing??” Asked, Fred who looked so done with the engaged couple.

Hermione groaned loudly, “Come on guys, let's go it's time”

You laughed at them, none of them really changed. Same kids from school, it's a good thing though.

❃.✮:▹ The end ◃:✮.❃

BONUS:

I was watching the IT movie,again the other day. It's horror film written by Stephen King and it couldn't help but— (I saw this one in Pinterest and I don't know what—but)

Anygays, I hope you guys enjoyed this fic and also thank you guys so much for 200+ likes for my “𝚈𝚞𝚕𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚙𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚎| 𝙳𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚘 𝙼𝚊𝚕𝚏𝚘𝚢 𝚡 𝚙𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛! 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛” Fic and like I promised here, Cedric's fic.

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vivithefolle · 3 years

Note

Not sure if you already talked about this. (I’m pretty sure you have) but someone seemed to notice that when the trio get into fights, Hermione’s always in the right. Even when she’s supposed to be wrong she always seems to be half right. That kind of bothers me. Especially since it’s evident in the whole Scabbers situation.

I have indeed, on Quora, so let’s move yet another answer of mine to Tumblr!

Hermione is seldom wrong in the Harry Potter books. Sometimes she makes mistakes but those mistakes are either completely swept under the rug or downright ignored.

It’s partly due to lazy writing and partly due to Rowling’s own growing bias in favour of her Author Avatar that was fuelled by Steve Kloves, the primary advocate of the Hermione Granger Is The Perfect Girl Ever line of thinking (an utterly ridiculous line of thinking mind you).

Lizo: Steve, Hermione is a character that you have said is one of your favorites. Has that made her easier to write?

Steve: Yeah, I mean, I like writing all three, but I've always loved writing Hermione. Because, I just, one, she's a tremendous character for a lot of reasons for a writer, which also is she can carry exposition in a wonderful way because you just assume she read it in a book. If I need to tell the audience something...

JKR: Absolutely right, I find that all the time in the book, if you need to tell your readers something just put it in her. There are only two characters that you can put it convincingly into their dialogue. One is Hermione, the other is Dumbledore. In both cases you accept, it's plausible that they have, well Dumbledore knows pretty much everything anyway, but that Hermione has read it somewhere. So, she's handy.

Now this, right here, is the exact core of the problem.

Rowling herself admits it: if she wants the readers to have information, she puts Hermione in the scene. Hermione is our primary means of exposition because, like *grits teeth* Sssssteve puts it, it’s easy to assume that she’s read about it somewhere and it makes sense.

That’s all well and good but at first, if you notice, Ron also gave us exposition about the wizarding world, mostly about its culture. He was able to recall the exact year of the Wizarding Confederation that outlawed dragon breeding in Philosopher’s Stone! He explained what were respectively a “Mudblood”, a “Squib”, and Parseltongue, Hermione doing a little exposition about the history of that last one! He was also able to identify Sirius, after being dragged into the Whomping Willow, as an Animagi!

But then Goblet of Fire happens and you can notice the first change that will exponentially grow through the books: instead of Ron, pureblood Ron, born-before-the-end-of-the-war Ron, lived-through-the-aftermath-of-the-war Ron, identifying the Dark Mark, it’s instead Hermione, muggleborn Hermione, lived-as-a-Muggle-for-most-of-her-life Hermione, has-no-idea-about-the-emotional-impact-of-the-Mark Hermione who looks terrified as the Dark Mark shoots into the sky!

And it only will get worse, by the end of the series, Hermione pretty much knows about everything the plot needs her to know, instead of having to work with things she knows but can’t always apply to the situation:

Suddenly has a deep knowledge of Magical Law (in the will of Dumbledore’s chapter, while we had Rufus Scrimgeour who could have provided it to us, or to a lesser extent, Ron could have explained how a wizarding will basically worked)

Is suddenly an expert at finding edible plants and mushrooms. Apparently books are always the goddamn answer in JKR’s world, you can literally learn anything from them

She can decipher all the Tales of Beedle the Bard (may I remind you that they were written in Runes, okay Hermione may have a few years of Ancient Runes education BUT I once tried to translate a 3k+ story I had written for fun, from French to English, which means I knew what the subtleties and intentions were, I knew which turns of phrase I had to preserve so it would make sense in the end, and it still took me two gruelling weeks to get a satisfying result!)

Has suddenly grown a sense of quick-thinking (escaping Xenophilius’ house, using the jinx to make Harry’s face weird-looking) despite it being the only remaining flaw she had at the time (remember when she turned her back on her enemy while he was still conscious just to compliment Harry, and almost died as a result, even though she had been training in the DA to learn how to fight Death Eaters?) Quick-thinking under pressure can be learned, but it takes time and a lot of work to force your brain to override its instinct - and it’s fine because we’re all human and different. But no suddenly Hermione is the Greatest Strategist Evah™ and those silly boys (who actually were the original quick-thinking ones, and one of them was established as the strategist early on) better be grateful for this literal goddess because she protects them from all harm with her superhuman brain.

Somehow knows about Quidditch stuff - she knows about a Snitch’s “memory-touch”. Why should she give all the answers? Why can’t Ron give us this particular tidbit of information?

And then when we come to something Ron actually knows, the damn narration itself goes “woah a book that Ron has read but Hermione hasn’t??? shocking!! incredible!! Ron is not dumb, somebody call the news channel”. But… is that really so surprising? We’ve never seen Hermione read wizarding fiction or even Muggle fiction. We’ve never seen Hermione with anything other than schoolbooks in her hands. Of course Ron has read books she hasn’t read since she doesn’t seem to read fiction at all!

Sorry, bit of a tangent over here.

There are only two characters that you can put it convincingly into their dialogue.

So, that’s one part of the problem: the fact that Rowling, after making Ron our insight into magical culture and Hermione our provider of knowledge, ended up saying “eh whatever I guess Hermione can tell us everything we gotta know because it’s more convenient for me”. Which is a decision that was not based on Hermione’s character, but simply lazy writing. Long story short, it probably went: “Could Ron explain this bit of trivia? Meh, better make Hermione say it cause she’ll have read it in a book. It’s convenient and I won’t need to bother myself with exploring Ron’s characterisation.”

(And thus completely forgetting that Ron could maybe ask his big brothers via owl and provide us with a good heap of extra advanced knowledge - Bill is supposed to have aced his NEWTs after all.)

The other part of the problem is quite simply that Hermione is more often than not, either painted as a victim by the narrative (which makes more people take her side, classic manipulation tactic), or made to be right anytime it’s about a plot point.

Hermione’s mistakes are never explicitly stated, corrected, or even pointed out as being unethical.

Hermione only gets one mistake expressedly pointed out as being a mistake: her misadventure in Polyjuice Potion. The rest of them? Even her crush on Lockhart can’t be counted as a mistake - people get crushes all the time, based solely on physical appearance, it’s not something awful or terrible (Except when it’s Ron who crushes on someone. Ron crushing on someone is absolutely forbidden, and he must be punished with much ridicule and humiliation if he thinks he can get away with not worshipping Hermione like the goddess she is. The nerve of him, really.).

Throughout the books Hermione eventually morphs into Rowling’s Powerful Angel of Vengeance, that punishes the people who dared to do something she disliked - Rita is silenced but at a very ethically dubious price; Marietta gets scarred for life because she was more loyal to her mother than to a bunch of people her friend insisted she hang out with; Umbridge is led to a very, very alarming fate that is never made clear but some people have ideas and they’re not all very kid-friendly; Ron first is “helped” without knowing it because Hermione can’t be bothered to have faith in his capabilities, then when he fails to dutifully reward her for “helping” him, she causes him bodily harm before actively bullying him for not mind-reading her interest in him; causes even more bodily harm to Ron because that’s how feminism works; etc.

Hermione’s mistakes are always justified through the plot itself (which is lazy writing).

Turning into a cat? Only affects her.

The Firebolt? Scabbers? Well, in the end, it was really sent by Sirius Black and Crookshanks really wasn’t the culprit. Therefore all the feelings that were hurt and all the trust lost are irrelevant because Hermione was right all along.

Trying to free the house-elves? Well, it’s the intent that counts, right? And we’re never told enough about house-elf lore to know whether they’re poor brainwashed victims or powerful Penate-like symbiotes who need to serve a wizard to survive?

Kidnapping Rita Skeeter, trapping her and blackmailing her? Rita may be one foul little beetle, but that’s going a bit far, isn’t it? Harry approves? Oh, well, I guess it’s okay then…? A main character can’t have a dubious morality, right?

Manipulating Harry into forming Dumbledore’s Army and forcing him to relive a traumatic event with the same woman she’s kidnapped and blackmail and that she knows he hates? In the end, it all works out for the best and Harry’s hurt feelings don’t matter since it’s all about the greater good.

Using the centaurs to get rid of Umbridge (which poses the highly distressing question of what did the centaurs do to her?), realizing that the centaurs aren’t nice little horsies that are going to gently obey her every orders like good Disney princess’ companions, my goodness could this be an opportunity for character growth - nevermind, here comes Grawp the Giant Ex Machina, saving her arse and protecting Hermione from all that scary possibility of introspection. Thanks, Grawp Ex Machina.

Trying to dissuade a highly stressed-out and irrational Harry from rescuing Sirius by telling him exactly what he needed not to hear, a.k.a. “you have a saving people-thing” which causes Harry to completely go bonkers and go save his godfather without thinking twice? Well she was right after all, it was a trap! Nevermind how mind-boggingly insenstive and inadept at dealing with someone else’s feelings she was being, she was right! That means it wasn’t Hermione’s mistake!… probably. (Geez, I’m sensing a pattern here…)

Endangering Cormac’s life (Confunding him WHILE HE’S ON HIS BROOM) to promote Ron’s success? Oh but that’s so romantic! (Yeaaaah, how romantic to display exactly how much faith you lack in your crush. Top it off with a broken neck and that’s a picture perfect first date!)

Assaulting Ron with magic and causing him even more scars than he already had? But he was being cold with her first, right? And he totally should have known she was asking him out! It’s not like her invitation was even worse than his attempt to ask her out two years earlier! Plus she’s just a teenage girl expressing her emotions, anyone who tries to find fault in this is a disgusting abusive misogynist pig! Ha!

Getting all jealous that Harry is better than her at Potions, then pretending she’s not jealous by claiming that TEH BOOK IS EVIL, HARRY, and giving him the cold shoulder too? But no, she’s right, look, Harry used Sectumsempra and he almost killed Draco, nevermind that he’s very horrified about it! Hermione was right, like she always is!

Hermione Obliviating her parents, which pulls her from the “ethically dubious” zone into the “wow okay I’m pretty sure that this counts as a violation of basic human rights” zone, makes her one of those quirky wizardfolk who have the privilege to control those simple-minded Muggles because it’s for the greater good? But nooo she’s crying about it so it’s obviously very sad and angsty and it shows her devotion to the cause!

Splinching Ron while fleeing from the Ministry? Eeeh, but he’s fine, they’ve got Dittany, he’s good as new!… blood loss? Anaemia? What’s that?

Hermione was wrong about the Deathly Hallows not existing? Um, um, that doesn’t matter, LOOK DOBBY IS DEAD AND HARRY IS BACK TO LOOKING FOR THE HORCRUXES!! Therefore Hermione was right, the Hallows weren’t important for their quest, therefore the Hallows might as well not exist, HERMIONE WAS RIGHT NO REALLY I’VE GOT RECEIPTS -

The books never forget to remind Harry and Ron of their own shortcomings and moments of weakness.

Harry’s wrath and recklessness cost Sirius his life. This is the lesson he has to learn from his entitled behaviour in OotP: actions have consequences, and the greater your responsibility, the greater the cost will be.

Ron’s envy and insecurity lead him astray; they’re used to humiliate, ridicule and torture him throughout the books. They’re supposed to teach him that he’s worth something - but how is he supposed to believe that, when nobody ever tells him he’s worth anything? When nobody ever apologizes to him? When his feelings are taken for granted over and over? When his two friends seem to discard him whenever he does one thing wrong?

Hermione is never punished. Hermione is never said to be wrong, never shown to be wrong, never called out on her behaviour. From Prisoner of Azkaban to mid-Deathly Hallows, she stays exactly the same character. She doesn’t grow up. She doesn’t learn. She doesn’t change. She has virtually no character arc.

The only time, THE ONLY TIME IN SEVEN BOOKS, the only time we have something remotely resembling a call-out of Hermione’s horrible behaviour is with this sole quote in HBP:

Harry was left to ponder in silence the depths to which girls would sink to get revenge.

Note how it’s about “girls” and not Hermione in particular, which implies that any girl would do what Hermione does to Ron. Thanks for the generalization, JKR, but I like to believe I’m actually a decent sort of person that doesn’t resort to petty cruelty and exploits my friends’ insecurities whenever I’m angry with them.

Hermione NEVER has to apologize. Hermione NEVER has to learn from her mistakes because she’s always presented as a victim when she really isn’t. Hermione NEVER develops into something more - she’s emotionally stuck at fourteen years old. Even less than that when you consider that her reaction to Ron’s return in Deathly Hallows is to trash him with her fists - and she was going to get her wand!! The utter psychopathic b- wanted TO THROW BIRDS AT HIM AGAIN!!! - and this reaction is an appropriate one for a four-years old girl, but certainly not for a supposedly “mature” seventeen-years old.

(Yes, because what separates a child from an adult is the ability to reign in your emotions and not succumb to your impulses. Exactly what Ron did when he left the tent (notice that he had drawn his wand, then he left before he could start hexing Harry), he left to calm himself down. Exactly what Hermione fails to do when Ron returns (she has the impulse to strike him and immediately succumbs to it, which proves to us that The Brightest Witch Of Her Age has all the maturity of a very small child).)

All of that, on top of the awful portrayal in the movies which removes all of Ron’s characteristics to stuff them into Hermione and turns her into some impossible epitome of perfection, eventually contributed to the portrayal of Hermione as the one who is always right and knows everything.

Add to it JKR’s own ridiculous bias (“Ron was quite emotionally immature compared to the other two”, yeah right I don’t see him trying to force freedom onto unwilling creatures or making Harry fly into an irrational rage with mere words but you do you, Jo) and the sexist misconception that “girls are innately more mature than boys”, and you get yourself this apparent behemoth of righteousness that was literally the sole reason why those two silly boys survived everything, and don’t you dare criticize this angel of perfection OR ELSE.

#vivi answers #ask #hermione granger critical #hermione granger #hermione critical #harry potter series #ron weasley #jk rowling #anti jk rowling

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wolves-in-the-world · 2 years

Note

ask game #7:

hurley, quinn, mikel

7: go to a wedding with, go to a party with, go to a museum with

this is a deeply chaotic & interesting selection. good job, anon, it's difficult to know where to start!

let's rule a few things out. I could not take mikel to a museum. I would be too terrified that she's Up To Something and she would be able to tell. the boys would be different kinds of restful to go to parties with, so I'm... taking mikel to a wedding?? is she my date? am I telling my extended family and the wider world that I'm queer by going to a wedding with famed hitter mikel dayan?? APPARENTLY.

honestly there's like a 95% chance I'm there in some sort of tell-anyone-and-everyone-dies hostage situation and she's not letting me out of her sight. I like to think she'd be somewhere between bored and charmed by my relatives' incredible normalness and Perplexed But Friendly vibes and decide in a sort of "eh, it wasn't necessary anyway" way not to kill me. 8/10, not a weddings person anyway.

(I feel like I'm somehow playing this wrong. mikel intimidates me, alright. at least I can assume by now that quinn's a fellow weirdo.)

I'm going to a party with hurley and I'm gonna check in with him to make sure he's okay if there's alcohol around (that's cool, I'm fine without drinking, too) and he's gonna check in with me to make sure I'm not quietly spiralling, and he's gonna do that awful (but sort of helpful) cheerful labrador thing where he's introducing me to people with enough friendliness for the both of us.

I'm possibly not a parties person either. oops.

beloved quinn. he's filed in my mind as "might be a murderer but he's not a jackass," so if I'm going to a museum with him and he's secretly planning something, I'll either end up looking innocent or he'll include me in the exit strategy, which is good enough for me. now, I haven't been to a museum in years but I think I'd a nice time there alone. with quinn... I can picture him shifting seamlessly between grift mode and "chatting openly about the last time he saw this van gogh, haha, they say they've had this for how long? one of these two is a fake and either way someone important's going to be very unhappy, glad I already accepted payment for that one," and so on.

I really want to know what he thinks about dinosaurs. I am fascinated to see what he buys from the gift shop. has he even been in a museum in a non-grift capacity? is he covertly looking around for cues on what he's meant to be doing when he's not scoping the place out? mood, buddy. there's something very restful about not being the only thing-in-a-person-skin-suit, and I feel like he'd either not judge me for not knowing all that much about art, or he would but it wouldn't feel all that awful. I like to think we'd ignore all the historal and cultural context and just discuss the paintings' vibes.

tldr: take hurley to a party, quinn to a museum, and mikel to a wedding.

#thank you anon this was sweet and fun <3 #apologies to mikel and also you but I have no earthly idea how to behave around her other than ''with respect and concealed terror''#do museums even have art and dinosaurs and history stuff all in one place or am I mashing together several types in my head. OH WELL #in which I accidentally admit to being far too invested in ambiguously neurodivergent quinn. whoops.#I am incapable of not going on far too much about this shit apparently #don't mind me

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zensjagi · 4 years

Text

parting is such sweet sorrow

Written for @justagirlinafandomworld ‘s time travel challenge!!!

i’ve been rewatching doctor who lately so this is set late season 6, somewhere between episodes 13 and 14 in an AU where the reader (from our time) travelled with the doctor for a bit. for anyone who needs their memory jogged, the doctor thinks he’s about to die at lake silencio and only has a little while left before he has to go there.

Prompt: “Before I go, I just want you to know that I do love you. You were/are my everything.”

Pairing: Eleventh Doctor x Reader

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: angstttt

≿━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━≾

He only had a few hours left, and there was only one thing he could even conceive of doing; one last loose thread to knot. And so, at 8 pm on a Tuesday, he turned up on her doorstep.

The windows were dark, but the porch light was still on. The Doctor swallowed the lump in his throat, raising a closed fist to the wooden door. He stood perfectly still, knuckles a hairsbreadth from the peeling, painted wood, but with every second that ticked by, he came no closer to knocking.

He could hear her crying.

Was it worth it, to ease her pain for a mere moment, only to magnify it the moment he left? Just so that he could see her, one last time? Was he really so selfish?

The Doctor took a shaky breath, eyes falling closed.

He knocked.

≿━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━≾

You didn’t bother turning on the lights, but you left the porch light on and the front door unlocked, just in case. Not that he’d need it; not that a dark porch or locked door ever stopped him. But a small part of you could only hope that it would be invitation enough for him to come back; that if you acted like he’d return, then somehow, he’d walk right through your front door, face alight with a cheeky grin as he fixed his bow tie and rambled on of otherworldly beauties. As if any marvel could hold so much as a candle to him; the mad man with a box, a heart of gold, and a sonic screwdriver.

But your porch remained empty, and you sank numbly into the couch. He was gone. He wasn’t coming back; he’d… left.

“It’s too dangerous, Y/N. If not now, then when? When is the right time to say goodbye? When I’m standing over your broken body?”

You could still feel his harsh gaze clinging to you, the hardness of his voice as it lodged sharply into your chest. The warmth of his last hug, the flicker of softness in his eyes, and then… the cold emptiness that he left behind.

Clutching a pillow to your chest, you rattled a loose breath that broke into a sob, that turned into another, and suddenly, the despair caught up with you. Your chest hurt with every wretched cry, and you couldn’t breathe through the sheer hurt of it. Of the loneliness. Of the loss.

He really was gone, wasn’t he? And you’d never even told him that…

There was a knock at the door.

“Hellooo? Anyone home?” The voice was tight, lacking its usual flair, but its owner was unmistakable.

With tears still drying on your cheeks and a spark of hope blooming in your chest, you hurtled upright, tripping over your own feet in your rush to the door. It swung open before you could reach the doorknob, and you stopped in your tracks.

He stood there like one of Michelangelo’s angels, a portrait of silhouetted, elegant solemnity, haloed by the warm yellow porchlight. The Doctor’s eyes met yours, the corners of them crinkling as his gaze softened in something almost reminiscent of pity.

“It’s—it’s you?” Your voice came as a gasp so quiet it was almost lost in the space between you, but he still heard it. He always heard you.

“It’s me,” he confirmed, a sad smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Can I come in?” His hand was still resting tentatively on the doorknob, and there was a solemness in his eyes that you weren’t sure you’d ever seen before.

“You—you just left,” you said, avoiding his question. “Like, an hour ago. Why—why are you here?”

The Doctor paused, gaze flicking to the floor. “That was… a while ago, for me,” he admitted, voice soft and captured by the whisper of the evening air. “I came because… I have something I need to do. And… I needed to say goodbye.”

“A while? How long? What do you need to do? Doctor, what are you talking about?” Your heart pounded—his seriousness was making you nervous, the exhausted energy that radiated off him draining and perturbing.

“A while…” He chuckled. “Well, I guess my while is a fair bit different to yours, eh? You’re only human… you all shine so brightly, but only for a short while. I… I’m very old, Y/N.” He avoided your eyes, and something in his voice broke you.

“Doctor… come inside. Let’s talk, yeah?”

“Talk…” A tiny smile crossed his face. “Yes, let’s talk. I always did enjoy our talks. I’ve missed them.”

You smiled back, albeit uncertainly. “Yeah, me too. I’m gonna put some tea on… sit down, okay?” You waited for him to take a seat before heading to the kitchen, mind heavy with rumination. He seemed… vulnerable, in a way you’d never seen him before. Like his mind was worlds away, lost in a time both so long ago and so far in the future.

The kettle squealed, and you jumped.

Hands weighed with two steaming mugs, you walked back to the living room, half expecting him to be gone when you arrived. However, there he sat, still as a statue, just as you had left him.

“Here.” Your voice was gentle, but it still pulled his eyes up quicker than lightning. You handed him his tea, sat down next to him, and waited.

The two of you sat in silence for a long while; you finished your tea, while the Doctor’s full mug grew cold in his hands.

“Thank you,” he said suddenly.

You blinked, observing him questioningly.

“For the tea,” he clarified. “Very nice. You always did make good tea…”

“Doctor… you’re scaring me. What’s going on in that head of yours?”

“Scaring you? Oh. I didn’t... my head? Oh, sweet Y/N, that isn’t a place you want to visit.” He chuckled darkly.

Slowly, you rested your hand over his. Despite the lingering warmth of the mug, his fingers were cold. You squeezed his hand gently, and the Doctor stared at your skin on his, soft and warm, like a comforting memory that only rears its head in your darkest moments.

“Why are you here?” you asked again.

The Doctor closed his eyes. “To say goodbye.”

“Goodbye? To... me? Did something happen?”

The Doctor shook his head. “Not yet. But it will. But then, I suppose it already has. Not to you. Well, not yet. We all die one day, after all, don’t we?”

“Doctor. What are you talking about?”

“Nothing... nothing for you to worry about. It’s been, and it will be. Tell me... what year is it? What year did I leave you in?”

“It’s 2020,” you said.

The Doctor winced. “Oh. Sorry. Of all the years to leave you...”

“Hey, it’s interesting to be in a historical event in my own timeline for a change,” you replied, and he chuckled again; a genuine one, this time.

“Oh, Y/N. You always have been the optimist, haven’t you?”

“So have you.” You squeezed his hand, and he set his mug on the table with his free hand, squeezing your fingers back.

“Thank you,” he murmured. The Doctor’s eyes finally met yours, and his eyes were damp. “I didn’t want to leave you, you know. I... I never want to leave you. That’s exactly why I had to.”

“Doctor...”

He squeezed his eyes shut, rubbing the palms of his hands over them before inhaling deeply and smiling. “Well, this has been nice, hasn’t it? I should head off; places to be, things to do, you know?”

The Timelord leapt to his feet, suddenly brimming with forced energy, and you followed his hasty path to the front door.

“Doctor, you can’t just—you can’t just leave like that, not again. Not without at least telling me what’s going on. It’s not fair.”

His smile wavered. “I... I know. But I’m selfish; I should never have come here in the first place, I just... I just needed to see you.”

“Why me?” you asked softly. “Why not... why not Amy? Or- or even Rose, or Martha, or Donna? Why come here?”

The Doctor closed his eyes, shaking his head. “I can’t...”

You touched his arm, and his eyes bore into yours.

“You’re different, Y/N. You always have been; you know that. Sweet, sweet Y/N, with the warmest human heart of all. You only have one heart, but you care far more for others than my two hearts ever could.”

“That’s not true,” you protested, and the Doctor smiled, placing a gentle finger over your lips.

“It is. I’m old, Y/N. I’m an old, selfish man. I’m not a hero. I’m not...” He swallowed, and shook his head for the umpteenth time.

“Doctor. Why did you come to see me?” you asked, one last time. “What’s made you so down and reflective?”

“Who doesn’t want to spend their last hours with the person they love?” the Doctor finally murmured, and your heart all but stopped.

“Last hours? What are you talking about? Wait—love?”

The Doctor smiled, resting his hand on your cheek. “Everything has it’s time, Y/N. Even me.” And suddenly, his arms were around your shoulders, pulling you into his chest.

He was warm, and smelled just as he always did; faintly of leather, of old books and untold stories. You buried your face into the shoulder of his tweed jacket, the fabric softer than it looked on your still-tearstained cheeks. A pair of lips settled against your hair, and moved to your forehead when the Doctor inevitably withdrew; he never was one for lengthy hugs.

His lips left your skin, but your chest was still flush against his, your eyes finding his own as your white knuckled fists grasped the back of his coat.

“I love you, you know,” you whispered. “And I know that you’re doing to be okay. You’re going to work this out; everything is going to be fine. You’re the Doctor. You always save the day.”

“Not always.” His voice was brittle, on the verge of breaking.

“Well, you always saved me. Every day; not just when we got ourselves into trouble. Every day after meeting you... I wanted to wake up in the morning. You showed me the whole universe; different planets, different times... but none of that would have mattered if it wasn’t you I was with. You showed me how to be myself, Doctor; how to find my spark again. You saved me.”

The Doctor smiled, his hand cupping your cheek. “Oh, Y/N... I didn’t save you. You did that all by yourself. I was just the taxi.”

You shook your head vehemently. “Doctor...”

“Y/N,” he whispered, his thumb rubbing gently over your cheekbone, the corner of your mouth, your lower lip... You could feel his warm breath on your nose, feel those piercing eyes as they sought yours, and slowly, tentatively, finally...

He kissed you.

Your mind froze, but as he moved to pull away you finally melted into him, grabbing his lapels and tugging him back as your mouth sealed over his. The Doctor’s hands were on your waist, your cheek, his lips soft and insistent as he held you tightly to his chest. You sighed into his caress, and even when he pulled away, he couldn’t help but place a few soft, lingering pecks to your swollen lips.

“I should leave,” he whispered, his eyes closed and forehead pressed against yours. “I’m sorry.”

“Doctor, please...”

“I’m sorry. But, before I go... I just want you to know that I do love you. You were my everything. The last star in a lonely man’s empty universe. Thank you, Y/N. Promise me you’ll take care.” His voice was barely audible, his breathing unsteady as he cupped your face in both hands.

You nodded, pushing on tip-toe to place one last kiss to his lips. “Promise. You too, okay? Please, Doctor. Please stay safe. Find a way.”

The Doctor smiled sadly, but didn’t reply. “Goodbye, my sweet Y/N,” he breathed eventually. “I know you’ll have the most beautiful life. Enjoy it.”

Before you could reply, he turned and left, leaving nothing but a swinging door behind him. You watched him walk around the corner without looking back, standing in the empty doorway with your hand over the light switch. In the distance, you heard the wheeze of the TARDIS engine slowly fade into a dying breeze.

The porch light flickered, and finally went dark.

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thanku for reading !! pls reblog/comment if u got this far, it means a lot!! xx

#yvettestimetravelchallenge #doctor who #doctor who fanfic #eleventh doctor #dw #eleventh doctor x reader #dw fic #dw fanfic #my writing

108 notes · View notes

flutterji · 3 years

Text

anything| renjun ff

hi! this is my first ff on tumblr so hopefully it all works out well. hope u enjoy!

desc: y/n and renjun have only been friends for about a month, but renjun was in too deep. whipped renjun, gender not specified reader!! semi drabble, high school au (like all my stories hhh), very fluffy ! barely edited, its a bit long too but whatever

word count: 2103

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y/n and jisung briskly walked the halls of their oh-so-dreadful high school, talking about, of course, absolute nonsense. ‘i mean, like, salamanders are so cute, right?’ y/n questions the tall boy, and jisung nods enthusiastically. “right! so then why would they eat each other?” jisung added. “as babies, too! it doesn make se-” cut off from their sentence, renjun snaked his arms around the both of them before yelling, “hey guys!” “renjunie!” y/n exclaims, and a wide smile paints renjun’s lips. “whats up shawty?” jisung says before making The Fuckboy Face™. “eh, not much, just absolutely dreading and stressing beyond human compacity about the calc exam tomorrow.” renjun says, pulling his arms away and shoving himself in between the two. “maybe we can study? i- honestly i wont be any help, but i have some pretty cool notes i could share?” y/n proposes. “sure, when?” renjun says, without skipping a beat. jisung looks at the two and then looks away in disgust. “you oldies.” he says, before sticking out his tongue in a teasing manner. “whatever, loser!” y/n says, emphasizing the ‘loser’. jisung pretends to cry and is all but payed attention to when renjun bothers y/n for an answer. ‘we cant study if you dont tell me when!” “well if the exam’s tomorrow then obviously we study today! what are you, an idiot?” y/n says, lightly teasing the poor boy. “right, but like, when today?” “you annoy me.” y/n responds without really responding, traveling away to meet their other friend group. “haha, y/n hates you!” jisung says. renjun then nudges jisung not-so-gently before sighing. “i dont get it. i would do anything for them and they just brush me off like im... i dont know, what am i?” he asks, confused. “an idiot. a complete idiot.”

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as soon as school ends, renjun sends y/n a text. ‘library?’ is all he says, and y/n answers quickly. ‘get here quickly pls,,, i dont wanna waste time” y/n sends back shortly after. renjun walks to their schools library, and sees his study mate. “hey jun, hurry up before i start growing grey hairs.” y/n whisper yells from one of the tables. he had taken longer than he wanted to, so he rushed to the table and scurried to get out his notebook and a pencil. ‘right, so, show me your notes.” y/n says, half distracted by the drawing they were creating in the corner of a scrap piece of paper. renjun opens his note book, revealing his subpar notes. “dude, what-- how much time do you spend actually taking notes?” y/n asks before revealing their organized notes that definitely weren’t the best, but better than renjun’s. “i look out the window more than i pay attention, ha...” renjun admits with a sheepish smile. “sure, just read my notes and copy whatever you need.” y/n says nonchalantly. “thank you so much, you’re a life saver, y/n!” renjun exclaims. “of course i am, i’m me.” y/n says unexpectedly, before ‘posing’ and rolling their eyes.

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after some time had passed, renjun had gotten distracted. “junie, can i tell you something?” y/n asked, looking at renjun’s renovated notes. “sure, whats up?” renjun responds while flipping his pencil between his fingers. “there’s this girl that likes me, but i don’t like her back. it’s kinda so awkward, but i don’t want it to be. ugh, its so frustrating!” y/n whines as they drum their fingers against the table. “oh? who is it? can i know?” renjun immediately asks. “she told me tot to tell anyone. so i’m kinda already not listening, but as long as i don’t tell you her name that should be fine, right?” renjun whines and begins asking more questions. “is she nice? do i know her? when-” “shut up.” y/n cuts him off and runs their temples. “she’s... its not like she’s not nice, and you don’t know her, okay? ugh, i shouldn’t have even tried telling you about my love life.” y/n grumbles. “love life?” renjun asks. “maybe you could repay me by telling me something.” y/n offers, a smirk growing on their face. renjun tries hard not to blush and looks away quickly. “there’s, uh, nothing to talk about, ha.” he explains half heartedly. “sure there is! maybe not recent, but tell me something at least a little interesting.” y/n persuades. “uh, well, last year i made friends with this... person, and i liked them. they, uh, they moved away. yea.” renjun cant help but blush as he struggles to find literally anything else to do. “yea, sure.” y/n takes note of his blush and can’t help but wonder if he’s lying.

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y/n begins packing up and renjun looks at them in confusion. “you have to go?” he asks, trying to hide his disappointment. “yea, im sorry. you got everything you needed, right?” y/n responds. y/n has a knack for ignoring renjun, the way he blushes, the way he often looks at them with wide eyes, the way he looks around aimlessly when he thinks, the way he throws his head back when he laughs, the way he bends his knees when he screams into the air when he’s frustrated or flustered, and... maybe they didn’t ignore renjun. maybe they didnt ignore him at all. “yea, thank you so much!” and he smiles the cutest smile and starts packing up his things as well. “you have a ride home? i’m taking the bus.” y/n asks. “i’m taking the bus too! maybe we should get a snack for the ride?” “YES.” y/n answers right away. renjun laughs and throws back his head, just like how y/n was just thinking about. a small smile creeps up y/n’s face and a boldness takes over. “you’re adorable, you know that?” y/n asks, swinging their backpack over their shoulder. renjun blushes, and hard. his heart races and he struggles to come up with a reply as his hand thoughtlessly covers his smile. “adorable, ha.” he says quietly. y/n internally yells and waits for him. “yea. so what type of snack do you want?”

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on the bus with chip bags on their laps, the silence is almost comforting, right before it’s not. the bus stops to let in more people, and renjun looks at y/n. y/n pops more chips in their mouth before looking back, and renjun swiftly looks away. they’re sitting next to each other, and renjun has never been that close to y/n. he starts noticing their more delicate features up close and feels his chest tightening. after y/n swallows the chips, they look at renjun’s hand, a single ring on his pointer finger. mindlessly, they pick it up to examine the ring. renjun’s heart starts beating louder at the contact, and he looks out the window without knowing what else to do. “pretty ring.” y/n says. “thank you, chenle gave it to me.” he says, smiling shyly. “so you’re married?” y/n says, a single brow raised. renjun takes back his hand and and looks at his ring. “its not like that! besides, i dont like him.” he says. “do you like someone else then?” “maybe.” renjun mutters so quietly that he can barely hear himself. “HA! I KNEW IT!” y/n celebrates their small victory and renjun looks back towards the window with a stupid smile on his face and a blush on his cheeks.

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once renjun reaches his stop, he stands up. “this you?” y/n asks. “yea, bye!” he says, almost sadly walking in front of y/n to get out of the aisle. “no, not bye, lemme walk with you the rest of the way.” y/n says and gets up, walking out and away from the bus shortly after. renjun smiles to himself and walks towards his street, leading the way. “so... who is it?” y/n asks. renjun blushes and covers his face. “i can’t tell you that!” he says. “why not? huh? i’ll tell you mine.” y/n says. “yoU HAVE A CRUSH?” renjun practically screams. “yea, it’s not a big deal.” y/n says, right before pulling two lollipops out of their pocket and handing one to renjun. “fine, but, please don’t hate me.” renjun pleads, putting the wrapper into his pocket. “i promise i wont hate you. who is it?” “well, we only started being friends recently, but they’re just so.. i don’t know. and i’ve told jisung this, but i would do anything for them.” he says, trying hard not to stutter and even harder to not get a heart attack. y/n puts the lollipop in their mouth, and renjun follows. “anything?” y/n asks playfully. “yea, pretty much. i don’t even know why i like them so much, they act like... i don’t know, they kind of ignore me.” y/n secretly wondered what type of human would be able to ignore someone as nice and as attractive as renjun. “ignore you? it’s hard to do that with how whiny you are.” y/n laughs and renjun whines. “see, i told you!” y/n says and smiles around their lollipop. “anyways, do i know them?” y/n asks shortly after. “yea, kinda... hah, all of a sudden i dont really wanna talk about it anymore, so, bye?” renjun forces his hands into his pockets. was he really ready to confess? “fine, i’ll tell you about mine then. he’s really charming in his own way, and i just realized that i liked him recently. we also haven’t been friends for long, ha. i don’t know why, there’s just something about him, his cute little habits are so endearing to me. ew, i sound gross.” y/n pretends to vomit, and renjun sighs lowly. “you really do like him, huh?” he asks, defeated. “yea, i guess i really do.” y/n smiles to themselves and nudges renjun.

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renjun kicks at a rock before stopping in front of a house. “well, this is my house, so...” “right.” y/n nods and presses their lips together. “hey, could you do me a favor?” y/n asks, right before renjun goes to walk up to the door. “sure, anything you want?” “anything?” y/n asks with a smile on their face. renjun lightly blushes, before saying quietly, “yea, anything.” he sends a small smile and y/n can’t help but walk closer to the boy. renjun’s heart starts pounding inside his chest. did he just confess? y/n reaches out to him and gives him a hug. renjun frantically tries placing his hands on y/n’s back multiple times before finally resting them in one spot, placing his head in the crook of their neck. to him, it felt like they fit together perfectly. a giant smile paints his lips and y/n starts retracting their arms. ‘it’s you, renjun.” y/n faulters with their words. renjun’s eyes go wide and his lips part to let in air. he felt like he couldn’t breathe. “me. i am? it’s… what? he says, absolutely speechless. “you’re the guy i was talking about earlier. not that it matters.” y/n shrugs, trying to hide the fact that their heart was absolutely racing. “it does, uh, to me, because, you’re the person i was talking about earlier too, so…” he hides his face with his hand and looks away. ‘you think i ignore you?’ y/n says, surprised. ‘uh, a little bit…” he admits, shyly. he felt like he was going to explode, he was so flustered. “sorry, i’ll try to pay more attention to you?” y/n offers, paired with a crooked smile. renjun bends his knees and screams into the air, making y/n smile and laugh shortly after. “sorry, and, yea, that would be nice.” y/n hesitates before stepping forward and planting a quick kiss on renjun’s cheek, sending the poor love-struck boy’s heart to heaven and hell at the same time. a wide goofy smile is shared between the both of them. “ill text you?” y/n offers, hands trying to find a place to stop before finally landing in their pockets. “yes, great! i mean, uh, cool. very cool.” renjuns fails to hide his excitement as he practically floats on air and lets out a sigh, shooting y/n a thumbs up. “very cool, yes.” y/n laughs and finally leaves the boy to go inside, and he automatically starts jumping in a circle and clapping out of happiness.

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the end!

19 notes · View notes

chrismho · 4 years

Text

Lakmé

Summary: Is this not the closest I’ve ever been to living? The Kurosaki Family invites Rukia along with them to the Opera. Ichiruki/Rukia-centric one-shot inspired by the opera scene in Moonstruck. Set a little bit after FB arc.

PS: It’s a pretty famous song but if you haven’t heard Flower Duet before, I highly rec you give this rendition a listen, it’s breathtaking! : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M9NK-EbUAao

“ICHIGOOOOOOO! RUKI-CHAAAAAN!”

SMACK!

A day in the Kurosaki household was not complete without at least one collision between Isshin’s face and either Ichigo’s foot or fist.

“I don't know how many times I have to tell you, old man: QUIT DOING THAT!” Ichigo roared, swiftly kicking his father back to the other side of the living room.

Rukia waited patiently for Isshin to complete this strange ritual, a fond smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Oh, Masaki!” Isshin sobbed, throwing himself upon his poster. “H-how cruel, how unloving our son has become! And Rukia at his side, so pure and lovely! W-we truly have here a beauty and the beast!”

“SHUT IT!”

The dark-haired shinigami watched them butt heads and felt a vague sense of nostalgia swirl inside her. I didn’t realize how much I…missed this, she silently admitted to herself. Seventeen months had passed and Rukia kept herself busy with work--very busy. Too busy to stop and realize just how much she missed life in Karakura. But now that she was back, the realization was sudden and overwhelming; she missed late night hollow-hunting, the bustling hallways at Karakura High, she missed Keigo, Mizuiro, Tatsuki, she missed indulging in her schoolgirl act, pretending that she was human and truly one of them. But most of all, she missed him. That was a realization that had set Rukia very much on edge. Ichigo was a comrade, a partner, a friend. A friend she found herself pining for in those seventeen months. She recalled a saying she learned in the human world, something along the lines of “absence makes the heart grow fonder”.

Absence had only made Rukia’s heart confused as hell.

Though almost two years had passed, her relationship with Ichigo picked up almost right where they left off. They bickered, laughed, they understood each other without need for words. But…now there was something new. No, not new; it had always been there. But now....now it was loud. And hard to ignore. It was something that Rukia couldn’t quite name, but its presence was undeniable. It wasn’t uncomfortable...but… but it was there.

“What do you say, Rukia-chan? Oh, please say you’ll be joining us?”

Isshin’s question snapped her out of her thoughts.

“Eh? I-I’m sorry?” she asked, startled.

“THE OPERA! An old buddy and colleague of mine has season tickets to the opera house here in Karakura. He’s away on a business trip so he gave me tickets to tomorrow’s show. We haven’t seen you in so long, the girls would just love if you came! SAY YOU’LL JOIN US!”

“Don’t push her, Dad!” Ichigo said irritably. He turned to Rukia but didn’t meet her gaze. “Seriously, y-you don’t have to go. It’s really boring, the last time I went I wanted to die-”

“OH, BUT THAT’S NOT TRUE,” Isshin cut off gleefully, shoving Ichigo out of the way and putting an arm around Rukia. “The last time we went, Ichigo was but a boy. Though only eight at the time, he was so moved by the performance that he wept and blubbered all night long--”

“HEY! N-NO I DIDN’T!”

“Yes, you did!” Karin called boredly from the kitchen.

Ichigo hunched up his shoulders and scowled, his ears and cheeks an angry shade of red.

“I’d be delighted to attend this...this ‘op-ohr-a’, Mr. Kurosaki!” Rukia declared, a cheerful and sparkly smile on her face. “Excellent! Come tomorrow evening at 7, and dress your very best, my dear! The opera is a most formal event,” Isshin beamed.

“Whatever. And get your arm off her!” Ichigo grumbled, yanking Rukia away from his father and up the stairs to his room.

“Ah, young love,” Isshin sighed after them. “Eager to get her to your bedroom, I see? Yes, yes, I’m sure you have a lot of catching up to do, if you catch my drift--”

“SHUT UP!” Ichigo screamed over his shoulder. He hurried Rukia inside his room and slammed the door shut.

“Nice to see the family dynamic hasn’t changed,” Rukia said, a sly smile on her face. She crossed her arms and leaned against the wall alongside his bed.

“1000 Yen says my dad’s got an ear pressed up to the door right now,” Ichigo replied. He sounded annoyed but there was a humorous glint in his eye. He looked up and met her gaze. They both dissolved into a quiet, gentle chuckle.

“Feel free to sit, you know,” Ichigo said, gesturing towards the bed. “I know it’s been a while but time’s never stopped you from acting like you own this place.”

“No, that’s okay. I’m fine here,” Rukia responded, cursing herself for answering him a little too vehemently. Ichigo looked at her questioningly, and Rukia could have sworn she saw a very, very faint blush creep on his cheeks. A moment of silence passed.

Tension. That’s what it was.

“So what is this opera thing, anyway? I just realized I agreed to something I know nothing about,” Rukia asked, eager to change the subject and genuinely curious about this “most formal event” that moved a young Ichigo to tears.

“It’s, uh, like a play. But with only singing. Really loud, annoying singing. And fancy costumes. And they usually end in tragedy.” Ichigo said, scratching the back of his head.

Her amusement at his fumbling explanation made Rukia forget her discomfort earlier. She smirked and flopped onto his bed. “Sounds like fun. So this loud, annoying play moved you to tears, eh?”

“IT DID NOT-Hmph, *ahem*, It did not move me to tears, I told you already that I found it boring. And I SAID YOU COULD SIT ON MY BED, NOT LIE ON IT!”

“Oh, Daddy, th-they’re on his bed already! They certainly are fast, aren’t they?” a muffled voice that sounded suspiciously like Yuzu’s could be heard saying from the other side of the door.

Ichigo’s left eye twitched.

He swung the door open and Isshin and Yuzu tumbled onto the floor. “SCRAM!” He roared, shaking his fist as they hurriedly fled the scene.

_____

Giant, crystal chandeliers hung over the U-shaped hall, twinkling prettily in the warm, golden light. The house was packed with many well-dressed and well-to-do people. The euphony of various conversations and chatter rang pleasantly in the air. If Ichigo had been moved to tears by the place alone, Rukia would understand; it was truly, truly beautiful. She tilted her head back, taking in the glittering chandeliers and intricate paintings of flowers and stars on the ceiling. She must have looked visibly awestruck, for she turned to her side to find Ichigo looking back at her, an odd, almost tender smile on his face. She gave him a sharp elbow in the ribs. “What? What’s with that dumb look?” She snapped.

“AGH! What the hell, Rukia?” He glared, letting out a sharp exhale before putting on another smile, this one more teasing. “N-nothing, I was just thinking...the last time I was here as a kid, I remember looking up at the paintings on the ceiling and counting all the stars as a way to pass the time. I guess I was just wondering if you were doing the same.”

Rukia blinked. It was rare for Ichigo to divulge….well, really anything about his past and his memories. To share this random little anecdote felt oddly intimate. She felt her cheeks warm slightly and turned away. “Heh, no I wasn’t counting, I was just...admiring. She looked back up and couldn’t help but laugh. “Ichigo, there are hundreds of stars, up there! Did you really count them all?” He looked up too and smiled wryly, shaking his head. “Nah, the show always started and the lights would go off before I ever finished. But...I like that I don’t know. It’s this weird, unfinished mystery that just...stays up there on the ceiling, y’know?”

His amber eyes and fiery-orange hair glowed in the warm light of the hall. He glowed. Does he even know how handsome he looks in that stupid tux? Rukia thought, torn between feeling endeared and annoyed. And spewing out weird, lovely musings like that, too. What an idiot.

She looked down at the program in her lap. In intricate, gold cursive, the words Lakmé: Opera en 3 Actes shone smack dab in the middle. “Is...is this in French?” she asked. “Yeah, but it’s okay; you see those black screens above the curtains up there? They’ll have translations…”

The lights began to dim.

Quickly, stealthily, Ichigo stole one last look at Rukia in full light. She was already a beautiful woman but tonight she practically glowed. With the help of Yuzu and Karin, she had parted her cropped hair to one side and teased it into elegant waves. She had reluctantly let them put makeup on her, too, and Ichigo had a hard time keeping his eyes away from her lips, soft and painted red like a pomegranate. She was wearing a dress that Ishida had surprised her with a few weeks ago, a wine-colored sleeveless piece that gently hugged her form and flowed past her knees. Yeah. She glowed. It was annoying.

Y��know, I bet she knows exactly how good she looks and is only pretending to be oblivious. He thought. What an idiot.

The red velvet curtains pulled back to reveal what looked like a stone courtyard on stage, adorned with all sorts of plants and exotic flowers. But the set was nothing compared to the music that emanated from the pit in front of the stage. She’d never heard anything like this. Not on the streets of Rukongai, nor in the banquets and gatherings in Seireitei. What was it Ichigo had called them? An orchestra. An orchestra, an orchestra, an orchestra. She had to remember that word. How so many voices, so many different strange and wonderful-looking instruments, could come together and create a sound so unified and sweet amazed her.

A procession of people dressed in long, unstitched garments came onto the stage, singing words Rukia could not understand. A big man, clad in a costume beard and yellow robe, opened his mouth and began to sing a solo.

Rukia froze.

It was obvious what he was doing required much skill, but….he sounded...funny? Rukia narrowed her eyes and fought a smile, trying to reason with this deep voice that shook with such a fervent vibrato.

She heard a snicker two chairs away from her, and turned to see Karin in the dim light, her face contorted humorously. Rukia was about to join her before Isshin turned to his daughter with a glare so scary and dangerous that any humor at all in both Karin and Rukia was effectively vanquished.

So entranced was she by the costumes and lights and flutes and cellos that the dark-haired shinigami found herself forgetting to glance up at the translations above the stage. She looked just enough times to gather that this was set in a temple in which rites were being performed. The ritual ended, and as smoothly as they glided in, the singers drifted back off the stage, leaving behind two women.

The women, arm in arm, walked down to the “river” on stage to gather flowers. The one dressed in red turned to her companion and began to sing:

Viens, Mallika, les lianes en fleurs

Jettent déjà leur ombre

Sur le ruisseau sacré

qui coule, calme et sombre,

Eveillé par le chant des oiseaux tapageurs.

Rukia froze once more. This time, there was no urge to laugh. Goosebumps rose on her arms. Her ears tingled. What, Rukia thought shakily. What is this?

The other, dressed in a simpler, sun-colored dress answered her friend in a voice just as haunting and sweet:

Oh! maîtresse, c'est l'heure

où je te vois sourire,

L'heure bénie où je puis lire

Dans le coeur toujours fermé

De Lakmé!

Rukia clenched her teeth, maintaining a stone-cold Kuchiki expression while her soul inside shook and quaked.

What is this?

Dôme épais le jasmin

Sous le dôme épais où le blanc jasmin

Like flowers landing on the surface of a pond, their voices floated, glided, rippled through the hall, lighter than air.

À la rose s'assemble

The melody seemed to follow some invisible wave that drifted down, then up, then down, and down again. It was elegantly unpredictable, like the path a feather takes on the way to the ground.

Rukia’s throat caught. The swelling in her chest bewildered and almost angered her. This...this beauty was almost cruel. Her eyes felt hot. Her face remained expressionless.

Rive en fleurs, frais matin,

Sur la rive en fleurs, riant au matin,

I never did get the chance to understand what it is to live, Rukia thought. She had, in fact, died when she was only a baby.

I....could see traces of what life was in the youth and excitement of Ichigo and his friends...the sound of their laughter, their chatter about the future.

Nous appellent ensemble.

Viens, descendons ensemble.

With each rise and fall of their voices, Rukia felt as though her soul was expanding. The singers’ figures became blurry behind the tears that began to well in her eyes.

But this…this swelling in my chest, and the goosebumps on my skin. My throat...feels tight.

A tear broke free and began to trickle down her cheek.

Is this not the closest I’ve ever been to living?

Ichigo gazed steadily at the stage, letting himself float and drift with the melody. It was no wonder the Flower Duet was such a famous song, even to those unfamiliar with opera. He cleared his throat as quietly as he could and turned to check on Rukia. His jaw clenched.

Ah! glissons en suivant

Doucement glissons; De son flot charmant

She stood absolutely still, upright, her small, pale hands clenched into fists on her lap. She did not look at him. He watched with well-hidden astonishment as a single tear rolled down her cheek. She stared solemnly at the women on stage, blinking slowly. Her amethyst eyes glistened with the water and salt that filled them.

Le courant fuyant

Suivons le courant fuyant

A lump began to form in Ichigo’s throat. He turned away, back to the stage. He couldn’t put into words what she was feeling, but he felt he understood it. He didn’t want to intrude on her moment, but he also wanted to let her know that she was not alone. Even when they were worlds apart, he’d find a way to reach her. Slowly, his hand moved towards hers.

His fingertips lightly brushed her wrist, and traveled up towards the back of her hand.

Rukia kept her eyes fixed on the singers. She gave no indication that she even noticed his hand on hers. A twinge of disappointment and embarrassment stung him. I...probably ruined her moment. I shouldn’t have-

His heart stopped. Silently, suddenly, the slender, cold hand seized his own. She intertwined her fingers with his and squeezed lightly. She did not look at him.

Dans l'onde frémissante,

Dans l’onde frémissante

To this day Ichigo couldn’t say what the hell compelled him to do what he did next. Maybe it was the nearly two years of separation, or the swelling music and stupid, glittering, chandeliers messing with his head, or the way she gripped his fingers with such a quiet and loving intensity, or a mix of all of those things. Slowly, he raised her hand up, off her lap.

D'une main nonchalante,

D’une main nonchalante,

Rukia stirred, tilting her head slightly towards him. He brought her hand up to his face and slowly, gently, firmly, pressed his lips against her knuckles. Rukia’s eyes flashed wide open, and now she turned to look at him. Another tear rolled silently down her otherwise stoic face. Ichigo opened his eyes and looked back at her.

Dôme épais, blanc jasmin,

Sous le dôme épais, Sous le blanc jasmin,

Nothing was said, but a thousand words were exchanged between them. Ichigo lowered her hand but did not let go. They held their gaze for a moment longer, then turned their heads back towards the stage.

Nous appellent ensemble!

Ah! descendons ensemble!

#ichiruki #lakme #sooo sappy hehe opera makes me WEAK #im literally frasier #ichigo kurosaki #rukia kuchiki #ichiruki fanfiction #deathberry

56 notes · View notes

neokids · 3 years

Text

Fortune's Fool: Act V

Masterlist

Act V

Tw: Lots of blood, character death, violence, murder, guns, knives, weapons, foul language, self-inflicted wounds, suicide, overall graphic content

“I just don’t understand” Yeji exclaimed as she was pacing around her room back and forth, “Who does he think he is? Who is he to walk these grounds like he owns the place?!” Yeji finally sighed as she sat just beside Karina and Lia on her bed.

Karina and Lia could only sigh in return, it didn’t take a genius to figure out that the twins also despised Hyunjin. It wasn’t because of Yeji’s reasons, but because Hyunjin would never let them forget they weren’t, and never will be, Hwangs.

“You know, worse comes to worse, you could just easily slip a drug in his night tea and pretend it was–Ow! Lia!” Karina tried, only for Lia to accidentally tug a little bit too tight on her hair.

“Stop moving so much when you talk then, Jesus…” Lia said as she gripped Karina’s hair tighter, only for the latter to let out another yelp in pain. “Do you want two perfectly even dutch braids or two ‘I-look-like-I-came-home-from-a-long-night-out’ braids hmm?” With that said, Karina’s face started to slowly morph into a sly smile.

“Depends on what I was doing in that long night out,” She paused as she batted her eyelashes, “I don’t mind spending a few hours with a stranger,” Karina said as she wiggled her eyebrows towards her sister and her cousin. Yeji let out a short chuckle as she threw a pillow to her face, due to Karina’s fast reflexes, she was immediately able to dodge it. Her statement earlier only made Lia tighten her grip even more, causing Karina to immediately shut up.

“You know what I think, dearest twin of mine? I think you should learn to loosen up.” Karina said as she tried to look at her sister, only for Lia to jerk Karina’s head back to its original position. “What were you saying again, Yeji?” Lia said as she wanted to quickly get on topic.

“I was saying that who does Hyunjin think he is, I just don’t get why he desperately wants to take what’s mine.” Yeji said as she rolled her eyes, just thinking about her cousin already made her a little irritated.

“The way I see it, he doesn’t really have a say in this gang, he’s just a nuisance–”

“Hush, stop talking. I think someone’s outside.” Yeji immediately cut Karina’s sentence as she stood up and placed her ear on the door.

It wasn’t an uncommon thing for maids to eavesdrop on what they had to say, but when someone would eavesdrop while they were talking in fast English, was. Not everyone in the Hwang household had the ability to speak the said language, even if the person outside was listening, they doubt they could actually understand them. In the silence, the footsteps sounded again, only this time the sounds were actually faltering, a sign that said they left already.

“They’re gone, anyway as I was saying, I doubt everyone would agree to his stupid strategies, I doubt no one would even listen to him. ” Karina said as she stood up and looked at herself in the mirror, satisfied with how her braids turned out.

“Yeah, I mean at the end of the day, Lord Hwang would always have the final say, your dad would always have the final say.” Lia added as she cracked her knuckles after braiding Karina’s waist-length hair, “But I worry, times like this cause people to act without thinking.” Yeji admitted as she rose from her seat and headed towards her balcony.

“We may have not discussed it out loud, but the deaths already have been piling up. How long before we have no one or nothing to rule over?” She added as she gripped the railings harder,

“That won’t happen,” Lia tried as she combed through her own hair, “Seoul is under our–”

“Seoul was under our power.” Karina corrected, causing Yeji to look at her. ” Now we have those stupid Neos to fight while trying to maintain our power over everything and everyone else.”

“Oy didn’t you go to school with a Neo before?” Lia suddenly asked. The question had startled Karina, she didn’t expect for a question like that to be thrown to her face. The question only made Yeji gulp in anticipation as well, no one knew she had loved the heir of the Neos, not even her two most trusted people standing right in front of her.

Karina had to blink a few times before she could answer, “Yeah… But I realized only after transferring to your school that he was a Neo, he wasn’t vocal about it I guess…”

Karina didn’t originally attend the same school as Yeji and her sister did. She had to attend this other school since she was too bad at Korean. She had spent only a year there, only keeping to herself since she saw no point in trying to make friends only for her to leave them. The school she had attended was unfortunately run by the Rovers, meaning her title as a Viper had no bearing there whatsoever. And so for the first weeks in school, it was just her. Not until a certain boy had approached her, and suddenly started talking. Karina looked at him in surprise, how could he keep talking and talking for so long about something the person he was talking to had no idea about? He was talking about this painting that he had wanted to desperately buy, yet couldn’t since it was placed on bidding, and he said he was too young to attend one of those, but he still kept going. Everyday he would approach Karina and tell the most random stories imaginable, from what he had seen going to school, to asking Karina whether or not she believed in the La Llorona.

As the school year passed, Karina kept her distance. She didn’t want to make friends, obviously. He was too much for her, he was all over the place. Everything was going fine one day, until he came into school. He had changed entirely. He was stoic, face blank, void of any emotion whatsoever. Karina almost remembered her trying to approach him, but she had stopped herself. Soon enough, the school year was over, and it was her time to leave.

“Was he nice?” Lia had asked, causing Karina to snap out of her trance. She could only shrug, “Eh, he was fine I guess, I didn’t really care. Different from that arrogant Jeno Lee, I guess.”

This time it was Yeji’s turn to snap out of her trance. Her eyebrow had twitched, blood rising to her head. Just hearing his name made Yeji’s vision hazy with rage. Just as she could say anything, a knock made its way to their ears. “Come in.” Yeji answered. The new maid took only one step in her room. “There is a visitor downstairs, miss” The maid asked, hands fiddling with the hem of her skirt, Yeji could only groan.

“So? It is not I who entertains guests in this household, my parents are the ones responsible for that.” She asked as she crossed her legs. “Sh-should I just ask Hwang Hyunjin? Your parents are not here so I assume you were the next per–”

“No it’s fine, leave Hyunjin alone. Alright, I’m coming.” With that said, the maid immediately fled from her room. Eversince Nurse died, Yeji had learned her lesson. The maids were always being replaced every month. This was for their safety, and to prevent them from knowing too much.

“There it is again,” Lia said, making Karina snicker. “There is what again?” Yeji asked, oblivious why the twins were suddenly giddy. “The expression on your face that looks like you’re about to strangle someone,” Yeji feigned a hurt expression and exaggerated a gasp, “You bi–”’

“Shoo.” Lia said standing up, pushing Yeji towards the door. “Go attend your duties.”

As Yeji went downstairs, she stopped by her parents’ office only to see them discussing something. “I thought the maid said you weren’t here?” With that, Lord and Lady Hwang only looked at each other.

“They say what we want them to say, the visitor specifically asked for your presence.” Lady Hwang said as she flicked her wrist, signaling Yeji to go.

“Secretary-general Jinyoung Park has been growing in power recently, the whole rover side even.” His father said in a hushed tone, causing Yeji to freeze just outside their door. “I don’t see how and why the people of Seoul choose to side with them, why now when there is this madness happening.” Her mother added, stressed and confused.

“Word on the street says they have made a vaccine.” Lord Hwang said as he turned towards Lady Hwang who was now more confused than ever, so was Yeji outside the door.

A vaccine? To this madness? How could they make a vaccine so soon?

“What?” Lady Hwang asked as she removed the hand resting on her forehead. “A vaccine?”

“Indeed. Times like this when people are scared, they cling to almost everything. They need reassurance, comfort, anything they need to make them feel they still have control over the madness.” Lord Hwang concluded, sharp and quick.

Yeji could only stare at them for a while before actually moving. She had to process everything she had heard. As she bound the last step, she already saw a figure sitting.

“Hello!” Yeji shouted, “I am here! What is it you need, stranger?” She entered the room only to find the same figure already looking up at her with a gummy smile. The stranger quickly rose to his feet, he was around her age, and he extended his hand.

“My father couldn't make it today, so he sent me.” He said, expression very bright with his gummy smile. Yeji almost found her smiling at the stranger in front of her, but before she could, she quickly brushed it off, maintaining her sharp expression.

“I’m Yangyang, Yangyang Liu.”

Oh, he’s the son Mr. Liu was talking about.

Yeji accepted his hand and shook it. Just before she was about to let go, he brought Yeji’s hand to his lips and smiled.

“And you’re Yeji Hwang.” He concluded before letting go, Yeji wasn’t flustered at all. In fact, she was more surprised by the fact that he sounded like native Korean speaker, a very different contrast from his father.

“I suppose you’re here for the same reason?” She asked as she sat down a few seats away from Yangyang, the latter following suit.

“Yes actually. We have much more supply of Kryocrom and I promise you you won’t find better quality and price elsewhere.”

Yeji sighed, this would have been much easier if the man beside her wasn’t as charming as he looked. Just as she was about to answer, she saw Karina and Lia enter the living room. Lia was so focused on reading her daily horoscope that she had failed to see Yeji. Karina on the other hand, was thoughtful enough to stick her tongue out for her cousin, she could only playfully role her eyes.

“You have sisters?” Yangyang suddenly asked, his smile not faltering. “Oh hell no,” Karina said, walking towards them.

“I already have a twin who’s such a pain in the ass. I don’t need another to add to my misery.” Karina said, a bit too exaggerated, causing Yangyang to laugh a little and for Yeji to send a glare. Hearing Yangyang’s laugh only made Karina smile and wink as she took a piece of candy from the jar on the table in front of them.

“Good luck,” She said before she left to catch up with Lia.

“Please, Mr. Liu, do take one.” Yeji said as she motioned towards the jar of candy.

“Thank you, don’t mind If I do,” Yangyang said before getting a piece and popping it into his mouth. “And please, do call me Yangyang, Mr. Liu is my father. We are a new generation, aren’t we?”

Yeji could only grip the armchair of the seat she was sitting on. She let out a steady breath to shake off the feeling of cringe. “Well most certainly, Yangyang.”

“We have been admiring the Vipers for a while now.” Yangyang said as he swallowed the candy, “My father has high hopes of a partnership.”

A visible annoyed expression was displayed on Yeji’s face. A loud sigh could also be heard from her, she looked away for a moment only for her to look back to see Yangyang’s enthusiastic face.

“I’ll give you the same reply that I gave your father then.” She continued as she crossed her legs. “We are not accepting any new offers from new clients. We are already so busy enough with our current ones.”

Yangyang only exaggerated a sigh and leaned forward, thinking it had made any influence on Yeji. “Oh come on, Yeji.” Yangyang said with puppy eyes.

This only made the urge to roll her eyes harder to fight. He did not look pleasing whatsoever, thoughts she had when she hadn’t known that he was Mr. Liu’s son all came upon her in a wave of regret.

“I told you, we don’t want to.” Yeji said, making sure her tone was sharp and firm. “I hear there’s a rival business who might be more willing to accept our–”

“Perhaps you should try them then.” Yeji said, standing up as she adjusted her dress. It wasn’t their loss anyway. In fact, the Lius were actually a client they wanted to lose. The threat of going to the Neos did not matter at all, Yeji was glad even.

“Wait wha–”

“I appreciated you going all the way here…” Yeji pretended to think, “Winwin? Yiyang? Ningning?”

“Yangyang… but close enough, I guess.” Yangyang said as she stood up.

“Ah yes of course!” Yeji tried her hardest to charm a smile, “Have a great day, Yangyang!”

She went to the door in three large steps, eager for the Chinese visitor to leave. She motioned for Yangyang to come to the door, her hands already on the heavy door handles.

Yangyang, who quickly reacted, immediately stood up and made his way to the door. He was now face to face with Yeji.

“As you wish,” He stepped out and took one step, before turning around to meet Yeji again. “But may I make a request, Miss Hwang?”

“My apologies, Yangyang but I already–”

“May I see you again?” He asked, full gummy smile on show.

Yeji had to blink several times before she could answer “If it does not have anything to do with business…” She trailed off before looking at Yangyang.

“Then I guess we may,” Yeji thought it wasn’t possible for the boy to smile brighter, but she was wrong. He looked like a child who was finally entering Disneyland for the first time.

“I’ll see you then, Yeji.” With one last smile and last nod, he left. Just as Yeji closed the door, she was immediately greeted by two faces.

“Who was that?” Lia asked, all curious now. “Is he a suitor or something?”

“He’s cute, Yeji. I thought you had no interest in him.” Karina said with a huff.

“A stranger, Lia. He’s just a stranger.”

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buoyantsaturn · 4 years

Text

and they were quarantined (1/1)

summary: oh my god they were quarantined

word count: 6547

read on ao3

Nico was sick of his friends texting him about some pasta shortage in Italy. Haha, very funny, the pasta country is out of pasta, whatever. He was busy, and he didn’t have time to explain the difference between penne lisce and penne rigate - and no, he would never eat penne lisce.

Nobody ever bothered to tell him what the pasta shortage was really about, and he had to find out for himself when he tried to go out to buy a pack of cigarettes and the security guard told him they were under quarantine. How had Nico managed to live through an entire day of quarantine without even realizing? He blamed it on never leaving his apartment. Still, maybe his friends could have sent him a warning text to let him know to stock up for the next however many weeks.

Whatever. He liked being holed up in his apartment, anyway.

Besides, how long could they really trap people inside their homes? A couple of days? He could ration his half-pack of cigarettes for that long, easy.

Nico decided he would let himself have two more cigarettes that night - one before dinner and one before bed - so just as the sun started to set he stepped out onto the balcony with a cigarette between his lips and a lighter in his hands. He lit the cigarette and took a long drag, then leaned back against the balcony rail, choosing to stare back into his apartment rather than at the one across the courtyard from him.

He had about two seconds of peace before someone behind him called out, “You know those things will kill you.”

Nico glanced over his shoulder, noticing for the first time a man on the balcony behind him. “I hear the plague is going to anyway, so I might as well enjoy this while I can.” He turned around and rested his elbows on the railing, mirroring the position of the man across from him. He nearly choked on his next inhale.

The man was beautiful - tan and blond and he probably had at least a foot on Nico. His hair looked like it was glowing, but Nico wondered if that was just because of the sunset - either way, he finally understood why that time of day was called golden hour. The lighting made this handsome stranger look like a Renaissance painting with his perfect face and lopsided smile and his balcony practically overflowing with greenery.

“Well, since we only have a few weeks to live, I’m Will. It’s nice to meet you.” God, even his voice was nice to listen to, the words slow and drawn out with the slightest hint of a southern drawl. Nico could hear the smile in his voice. “I moved in a couple of months ago, but I don’t think I’ve seen you around before, uh…?”

Nico blew out a breath of smoke. “Nico. I don’t get out much.”

Will’s smile somehow became brighter. “Well, Nico, I hope we get to see more of each other before we succumb to the plague.”

Nico took one last drag before stubbing out his cigarette. “Yeah, see you.”

Two days later, Nico was still rationing his cigarettes with even more care than he was rationing his food. He started taking his smoke breaks at odd times during the day just to curb his cravings, and had definitely started losing sleep from his restlessness. Even still, regardless of when Nico went outside to smoke - as long as the sun was up - Will would be sitting on his own balcony. He was always reading, sometimes from novels, sometimes from textbooks, and he would always greet Nico with a smile.

“You know, I’m glad you’re lessening your nicotine intake, but I gotta say, it kinda sucks that I’m seeing you less and less,” Will told him one morning - earlier than Nico would normally be up, but he’d hardly slept the night before.

Nico choked on his inhale, and coughed before he could reply. “Well, some of us have jobs to get back to.”

Will rested his chin in his palm and grinned - did he ever stop smiling? It was starting to get annoying. Or maybe that was the flutter in Nico’s heart every time he saw it that was annoying him. “And I think you’re running out of cigarettes.”

Nico blew smoke in Will’s direction. ��And what about it? It’s not like you’ve got a pack stashed somewhere that you could give me.”

“No, but I can give you some coping strategies for when you run out.”

Nico stubbed out his cigarette on the railing. “Thanks, but no thanks. I can cope just fine on my own.”

“I’ll be here if you change your mind!”

Nico offered him a two-fingered salute before he turned on his heel and went back inside.

Okay, so, Nico did not bring his laptop out onto the balcony that night just because Will sounded lonely. It was warm for once , and there was a full moon, and Nico can do whatever he wants whenever he wants, okay? Except for, apparently, leave his apartment to buy more cigarettes.

He also was not repeatedly glancing over at Will’s apartment to see if he was coming outside - as far as Nico could tell, most of Will’s lights had been shut off, and he feared that he might have missed his chance to talk to Will some more (except that he had no intention of doing so anyway, so shut up about it).

Just when he was getting back into the swing of things on his current project, he heard the distant sound of a sliding door opening, and then Will’s voice saying, “Oh, sure, you bring your work to me just as I’m heading to bed.”

“Who says I brought my work to you? Maybe I just wanted a change of scenery,” Nico argued. He glanced up to get a look at Will - he’d changed into a loose t-shirt and plaid pajama pants. Cute. It kind of made Nico wonder why Will ever bothered to change out of his pajamas, since he clearly wasn’t going anywhere, and if he could look that soft and comfortable and adorable all the time, then why wouldn’t he?

Will hummed. “I suppose that’s possible, but I just think it’s interesting that you finally brought your laptop outside after mentioning just a few hours ago that you had work to do. So, looking for company?”

“Like I said, I just wanted a change of scenery,” Nico lied.

“Sure you did.” Will took a seat in the singular lawn chair he had on his own balcony and angled it so that he could stare up at the moon when he propped his feet up on the rail. “Don’t you wish you could have a little more human interaction?”

“I thrive in solidarity.”

Will snorted. “You’re funny.”

Nico looked at him with a confused pout. He barely stopped himself from asking, Are you flirting with me? because he wasn’t really sure he wanted to know the answer. Instead, he tried to find some way to change the subject before Will beat him to it.

“So, what are you doing, anyway?”

“Huh?”

“You’re working, right? What do you do?”

Oh, thank god, an easy topic. Nico hardly had to think if he was just talking about work. “I’m a graphic designer. Freelance. And to answer your earlier question, again, I have more than enough human interaction over email. And trust me, if you had to talk to these people every day, you’d isolate yourself, too.”

“No, I don’t think I would,” Will replied. His head rolled to the side so that he could look at Nico as he spoke. “I’m too much of a people-person.”

“Oh. So quarantine must be killing you, then,” Nico said before he could just shove his actual foot in his mouth.

“Eh, only a little bit. See, I have this neighbor that comes to talk to me sometimes.”

When Nico looked up, Will was grinning at him once again. “Oh, you mean me.”

Will’s laugh was musical. Nico didn’t even know what that meant but he knew that was the only way to describe it. It gave Nico goosebumps - or maybe that was just the cool breeze. “Yes, I mean you. Seriously, it’s like everybody else in this building likes being cooped up all the time. I think I’ve spent more time outside than in over the last few days, and aside from you, I think only one person has even opened a window.”

“What do you do?”

“Oh, water my plants, read until I can’t see straight--”

“No, not that,” Nico said, rolling his eyes. “I mean, like, what do you do? Like, for work.”

“Oh! I’m a med student. Yeah, classes usually take up almost all of my day, so I’m paying the rent here on my student loans, which I know isn’t great, but it’s better than being twenty-five and living in a dorm somewhere.”

Nico tried to do the math in his head - did doctors go to school for seven years, or eight? “So, you’re basically a doctor, right?”

“Almost!” Will shot Nico another grin. “This is supposed to be my last semester, but with schools shut down, it’s hard to say if they’ll let me graduate yet. Which sucks, because it’s stuff like this that made me want to become a doctor, you know? I just wish I could be out there helping people, instead of getting stuck in quarantine, all alone. Seriously, I think I might’ve gone crazy already if it weren’t for you.”

“It’s been, what, three days? I don’t think it works like that.”

“Okay, maybe not, but the only other interactions I’ve had in the past couple of days have been virtual lectures, and that hardly counts.”

“Oh, gross.”

Will chuckled. “Yeah, that’s one word for it.” There was a short pause, and after that moment of silence, Will rose to his feet with a sigh. “Well, I really should head to bed.”

“Why?” Nico glanced at the corner of his laptop screen. “It’s not even ten o’clock.”

Will leaned his elbows on the rail. “Yeah, but I have lectures starting at eight, and I need to make sure I’m awake enough to pay attention by the time those start. I should let you get back to work, anyway. I’ll see you tomorrow, Nico.”

As Will returned inside, Nico’s gaze dropped back to his laptop screen. It had gone black a while ago when the computer fell asleep, and Nico didn’t bother waking it back up. He had just come out there for Will, anyway.

Nico only saw Will in passing the next day. He saw Will watering his plants just as Nico was waking up, but was back inside his own apartment by the time Nico had stepped out onto his balcony.

He didn’t have any company as he smoked his last cigarette.

He thought a lot of his symptoms were mostly psychosomatic - just the simple knowledge that he wouldn’t be able to have a cigarette the next day was keeping him up at night, leaving him too tired to concentrate on his work all morning. By noon, he had a dull headache at the base of his skull, and he couldn’t really tell if he was hungry or nauseous, so rather than trying to figure it out, he decided to get some fresh air. Maybe talking to Will would lift his mood a little.

Nico stepped out onto the balcony and took a deep breath of fresh air, and immediately started coughing. Just because he hadn’t smoked in around eighteen hours didn’t mean his lungs were back to normal.

“You alright?” a voice called out to him, and Nico offered his middle finger before he realized that it was probably Will.

Once he stopped coughing, Nico muttered a, “Sorry,” that Will likely couldn’t hear. It was the thought that counted, right?

“You know, it’s a cough like that that should be enough to convince you to quit,” Will said, sounding like his mind was somewhere else. When Nico looked over, his nose was buried in a textbook. “That is, if the quarantine doesn’t force you to quit, first.”

Nico rolled his eyes. Was Will always this annoying, and Nico never noticed because he was too distracted by a pretty face? “Okay, never mind.” He turned on his heel and stepped back inside.

“Wait, Nico, come back!” Will called just before Nico shut the door between them. This time when he flipped Will off, he meant it.

A few hours later, after a meal and a nap, Nico went back outside to apologize. Don’t get him wrong, he still felt like garbage and his headache was somehow even worse than before, but he knew that Will didn’t deserve that kind of treatment. Just because Nico was an asshole didn’t mean that he should take it out on an innocent guy.

He stepped out onto the balcony and hissed when the sun hit his eyes, aggravating his headache.

“You look like shit,” Will told him, and something about the tone of his voice made Nico feel even worse - there was no concern, none of the usual cheerfulness that Will usually expressed to Nico. It sounded more like he was forcing himself to stay calm, remain neutral, as if he was guarding himself against Nico. And if that didn’t make Nico feel worse.

Nico groaned and leaned against the railing, crossing his arms and resting his forehead on them. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Will asked, his voice betraying his surprise.

Nico groaned louder. “You know.”

“No, I don’t.” Will frowned at him as he stood. “Are you sick? Do you have a fever? A cough?”

“I ran out of cigarettes.”

“Aw, Spooky,” Will said. “How are you feeling? How can I help?”

Nico lifted his head. “What did you just call me?”

And there was Will’s smile again, so bright it hurt Nico’s eyes to look at. “Spooky. You know, you scared me half to death a couple of times when you came out to smoke because you’re so quiet. I looked up and you were just there. You spooked me, get it?”

Nico rolled his eyes. “Oh, you’re so funny.”

“Thank you. So, what’s up?”

He sighed and rubbed at his temples. “Headache, mostly.”

“Did you take anything for it?”

“Took a nap.”

Will snorted. “I meant, like, Tylenol.”

“Oh. No.”

“You should do that. And drink a lot of water. I’m gonna look up what I can do to help.”

Nico walked back inside and poured himself a glass of water before he started searching through his cabinets for painkillers. When he couldn’t find anything in the kitchen, he went into the bathroom, but still didn’t have any luck. He took his glass of water outside and told Will, “I don’t have any Tylenol.”

“You don’t? Hang on, I’ll get you some.” Will jumped up from his seat and practically ran back into his apartment, returning in less than a minute. “Hey, Spooks, catch.”

Suddenly, something was flying at Nico’s face, and he barely had the time to duck before the pill bottle hit the back of his chair. “What the hell, Will?”

“I said catch!”

“I’m gay, I can’t catch!”

“Sorry, I didn’t know!”

Nico picked up the bottle. “Isn’t this, like, cross-contamination, or something? We’re breaking quarantine code right now.”

“I’m sure this is fine. I mean, have you seen those videos of people all over the world, hanging out on their balconies?” Will asked. “They’re all, like, two feet apart from each other. There’s no way they aren’t sharing things like this. If it makes you feel better, you can keep the bottle.”

“But what if you need it?”

“I think you need it more than I do.” Will shrugged. “Besides, just knowing that you’re feeling better will help me.”

Nico turned all of his attention to the pill bottle in his hands so that he didn’t have to look at the smile on Will’s face. He had to be flirting this time, right? He popped open the bottle and tossed a couple pills in his mouth, chasing them down with water. He kept his gaze down as he asked, “So, you said you were looking up ways to help?”

“Oh, yeah!” Will dropped himself back into his seat and picked up his laptop. “So, pretty much the only thing that will for-sure help you ease off of cigarettes is, like, a nicotine patch or nicotine gum, but since we can’t leave, that’s not really an option. The next best idea I’ve seen is basically to find a replacement for your addiction.”

“What’s really stopping me from walking out of this building right now to just buy more cigarettes?”

Will raised a hand and started to count on his fingers. “Me, I’m guessing there’s still a security guard in the lobby, the patrol cars on the streets, and the fact that the nearest stores are almost definitely shut down.”

Nico sighed. “Alright, fine, I’ll do your dumb addiction replacement thing. How do I do that?”

“You just need to find a healthier addiction, or, like, anytime you get a craving, do one specific activity. This website has a few ideas. Let’s see… Can’t really go for a walk, can’t run errands, can’t go to the gym… You could take a nap, clean your apartment, take a shower, or… Picture the future, smoke-free you, and bask in how much better you’ll feel once you achieve your goal.”

Nico rolled his eyes. “I think I’ll risk the patrol cars.”

Nico spent a lot of time working to make up for all the time he spent zoned out when he was supposed to be working. He couldn’t exactly take a shower every time he wanted a cigarette, and he could only clean his apartment so many times in a day, so rather than finding some replacement like Will suggested, he just tried to force himself to work.

He emailed a few clients and reviewed a few of his half-finished projects, trying to decide which one to continue with when he heard a tink, tink sound coming from his balcony.

Nico looked over to see something hitting the window of his sliding glass door. He stood up, leaving his laptop on his desk as he went to investigate. He opened the door to find a small collection of pebbles scattered across his balcony, and looked up to see Will digging through one of his potted plants.

“Were you throwing rocks at my window?”

Will’s head popped up, and he grinned when he saw Nico. “Spooky! Yeah, and it’s a good thing you noticed, because I think I’m out of rocks.”

“Did you need something?”

“It’s my lunch break, and I was hoping for some company,” Will told him. “So? Think you’ve earned a break yet today?”

Nico considered the few emails he’d sent and the handful he had yet to even open and decided, “Give me five minutes.”

Will warned him that insomnia would be another symptom of nicotine withdrawal, and it unfortunately paired nicely with Nico’s usual insomnia, leaving him awake most of the night yet without any energy to work. When he finally eventually passed out, he hardly even noticed that he wasn’t still awake, because his dream seemed so realistic.

He was standing in his kitchen, washing the dishes he’d ignored the entire day before. He didn’t consider that this even could have been a dream, because he’d never had a dream that was so boring. If he hadn’t already been asleep, then the monotony of washing dishes probably would have knocked him right out.

Then, something...changed. He felt more relaxed, somehow, and he thought there might have been some soft music playing from somewhere else in the apartment. He looked over his shoulder and saw that the door to the balcony was open - maybe the music was coming from Will’s apartment. Maybe Nico should say hello.

Before he could move, someone was standing behind him, arms looping around his waist and a chin resting on his shoulder. “Aw, Spooks, you didn’t have to do the dishes,” Will said, pressing his lips to the side of Nico’s neck as he spoke. “You made dinner, you should’ve let me clean up.”

Nico didn’t reply - couldn’t seem to open his mouth - but Will didn’t mind. He gently tugged Nico away from the sink, across the apartment and out onto the balcony. “Come dance with me,” Will said as they stepped outside.

The balcony was so crowded by chairs and plants that the two of them could barely stand together, and a quick glance across the courtyard revealed Will’s empty balcony.

Will spun Nico around to face him, and Nico was finally able to get a good look at him, though something wasn’t quite right. He didn’t have enough freckles, or maybe his hair wasn’t parted to the right side. And was Will really that much taller than him?

“You know, I don’t think I’d mind getting stuck here with you again,” Will whispered, leaning down to rest his forehead against Nico’s. “Except this time it’ll be even better, since I get to touch you--” Will brushed his fingers against Nico’s cheek, “--and hold you--” his other arm tightened around Nico’s waist, “--and kiss you--” and he pressed his lips to Nico’s, and Nico could feel the pressure of the kiss, and he felt the heat of Will’s breath so close to him, and Nico woke up.

He couldn’t manage to pull himself out of bed for another hour, and when he finally did, he went straight out onto the balcony. Will wasn’t there, but all of his plants crowded his balcony, leaving Nico’s bare aside from his single lawn chair and the small scattering of pebbles. Nico picked up one of the rocks, rolling it in his hand as he decided whether or not he wanted to throw it, but the sound of a glass door sliding open made up his mind for him.

Will stepped outside and asked, “Hey, Spooks, what’s up?”

Nico hesitated. Did he really want to talk about this, with Will of all people? “Does withdrawal give you...weird dreams?”

Will leaned against his railing. “A lot of things supposedly give you weird dreams. What happened?”

Nico felt his face heating up, so he dropped his gaze to look down at the courtyard below them. “It was just...really real. Like, I could hear music and... feel things. I don’t think I’ve ever felt in a dream before.”

Will hummed. “It might be the nicotine, it might not.” He shrugged. “Maybe it was prophetic.”

Nico felt himself flush.

“Do you think we could talk more later? I’ve got a paper to write, but… Lunch around noon, twelve-thirty?”

Nico nodded. “Yeah, I’ll be here.”

A thunderstorm rolled in late that morning, leaving Nico to hope that the pounding rain would cease by lunchtime. However, by the time his stomach started to growl, it sounded as though the rain had picked up even more, and Nico’s heart sunk. He got up and made himself some lunch to eat at his desk as he continued to work, and on his way back to his desk, he peeked out the window at Will’s balcony.

His plants had all been pulled away from the railing and closer to the building, probably so they didn’t get destroyed in the heavy rain. Taped on the inside of Will’s door was a piece of paper with a frowny face and a phone number written underneath.

Nico texted the number with a simple, hey.

From: Unknown; Spooky?

Nico smiled down at his phone, his thumbs already firing off a response.

“I miss... oh man, my Mama’s homemade fried chicken,” Will said, dropping his head back against his chair. “I think it’s the best thing I’ve ever eaten. I would kill for some fried chicken right now.”

“I wouldn’t have taken you for the fried food type,” Nico told him. He kicked his feet up on the railing as he stretched back in his own chair, staring up at the cloudy sky.

“I’m Texan born and raised, baby,” Will said, his voice taking on a deep Southern drawl that had Nico’s ears burning. “My Mama could make a whole meal out of fried foods and it would be the best thing you’ve ever eaten. And the cornbread.” Will rubbed his hands over his face, and when he spoke again, the accent disappeared as if he’d wiped it away. “God, I just wish I could eat anything that I didn’t make for myself. I’m kind of a horrible cook.”

Nico tilted his head to watch Will between the rails. “When the quarantine is over, you should come over for dinner. I’ll cook you one of my favorites from when I was a kid.”

Will looked over at him and grinned. “It’s a date.”

The only alcohol Nico had on hand was Fireball, meaning that every few minutes he found his lips burning and tongue numb from the cinnamon-alcohol mix and Will’s dumb idea to play drinking games. He didn’t know when the game was supposed to end - and he didn’t really want to drink the entire bottle in one sitting - but at least he’d gotten to know some interesting things about Will after he’d gotten tipsy enough to test the waters.

“Never have I ever kissed a girl,” Nico said, smirking when Will took a sip of his own - Captain Morgan, which he was drinking out of a cup, because he was apparently too civilized to drink straight from the bottle.

“Never have I ever kissed a boy,” Will shot back, and Nico frowned as he drank, his heart sinking at the thought that he would probably never have a chance with Will, until the blond lifted his cup to his lips and took a drink. “I lied,” he said with a smirk of his own.

“Cheater. Never have I ever...uh, I dunno, willingly watched a reality TV show.”

“Never? Really? But some of them are so good! And some of them are so dumb that they’re really fun to watch! We should watch one together!”

“How would we do that when we’re, like, fifteen feet apart?”

Will thought for a second. “You have Netflix, right?” When Nico nodded, Will continued, “Go get your laptop, we’re watching Queer Eye.”

“Is that technically a reality show?”

“I think so. It’s real people, right? Why, have you seen it?” Nico shook his head. “Then let’s go!” Will jumped up and ran back into his apartment, so Nico did the same, returning to the balcony after a moment and settling back down. Will reappeared a moment later with his own laptop and said, “Okay, we’re just gonna start with the first episode, and I’m gonna count us down from three to hit play. Are you ready?”

Once Nico had the episode up and ready to go, he said, “Ready.”

“Okay. Three… Two… One… Play!” Nico hit the play button and the episode started, but across the courtyard, Will exclaimed, “Oh no, it’s buffering!”

Nico paused the video right away. “We just gotta give it time to load. What do you wanna do while we wait?”

Will set his laptop on the ground and leaned his elbows on the railing, so Nico did the same. “Questions. Where did you grow up?”

“Born in Italy, grew up in Los Angeles. What’s your favorite candy?”

Will hummed. “Almond Joy. Same question.”

Nico wrinkled his nose up at Will’s answer. “Um, Snickers.”

“Oh!” Will jumped out of his chair. “I think I have some Snickers! Hang on a second.” Will ran back inside, leaving Nico to stare in his windows and watch him move around until he returned with a shiny wrapper in his hand. “Okay, I lied, it’s not Snickers. It’s Twix.”

“Oh my god, I lied, Twix is actually my favorite,” Nico said, eyes widening.

“Okay, this is for you, Nico,” Will said, swinging his arm gently as though winding up for an underhand toss. He threw the candy, but the arc was too high, and it ended up landing on the roof. “Oh, shit, I’m so sorry. I’ll buy you another one after quarantine, I promise.”

Nico was torn between mourning his lost Twix and laughing at Will’s horrible throw, but the alcohol that was really starting to hit him decided for him and he almost fell over from the force of his laughter. “That was horrible! I’m gay and I can throw better than that!”

“Oh yeah? I’d like to see you try!” Will taunted.

“I don’t have anything to throw!”

“Then I guess I win.”

Nico frowned down at the rail of his own balcony, then at the distance between the two. “I’ll just throw myself then.”

He managed to lift a leg over the railing before Will stopped him. “Nico, stop, it’s too far and we’re on the third floor. You’ll die. And I don’t want my Spooky turning into a scary skeleton just yet.”

Nico rolled his eyes, still straddling the railing. “Please, I bet you’re used to guys throwing themselves at you all the time, how is this any different?”

“Because you’re talking in, like, metaphor or something, but this is literal, and you could literally die.”

Nico huffed and pulled himself back over the rail, losing his balance right at the end and falling into his chair. “Alright, fine, I won’t throw myself at you. I get it, you’re not interested. Let’s just watch the dumb show then.”

“Who said I wasn’t interested?”

It took Nico more than a few moments to process Will’s words, and when he finally did, he looked up at Will with wide eyes. “Oh.”

Oh.

Nico’s friends had set up a full day to connect and play video games, which left him stuck on the couch for the entire morning as Percy, Jason, and whoever else happened to jump into the server shouted about their gameplay. Through all the noise of button clicking and his friends’ exclamations, Nico didn’t hear his phone buzzing on the couch beside him and missed a few texts from Will.

When his phone started ringing, Nico didn’t even think about it when he answered the call and immediately put it on speaker phone so that he could play hands-free - and, unfortunately, allow his friends to hear their conversation.

“Hey, Spooky, where are you?” Will asked.

“Who is that?” Jason asked through Nico’s laptop.

“Who the hell is Spooky?” Percy demanded.

“Shut up,” Nico told them, and tried to turn toward his phone without taking his eyes off his screen to say to Will, “Sorry, Will, I’m playing this--”

“Who’s Will?” Jason asked.

“I said shut up!”

“Um, are you coming outside for lunch?”

“Neeks, are you breaking quarantine?” Percy said.

“Dude, Hazel will kill you if she finds out,” Jason agreed.

“I’m not breaking quarantine--”

“We can just hang out later…”

“Will, hold on a second--”

“Aw, Jas, I think we’re interrupting a date!”

Nico glared at his laptop. “It’s not--”

“Just, uh, text me later when you’re not busy, okay, Spooks?”

“Will, wait-- ” Nico glanced down at his phone, but the screen flashed call ended. “Dammit! Okay, when I find the two of you, I’m going to shoot you both to death.”

“Dude, are you ditching your boyfriend for us?” Jason asked.

“He’s not-- Shut up! Let me kill you so I can go eat lunch.”

Percy sang, “With your boyfriend!” before Nico emptied his gun into Percy’s character. “Shit!”

“Jason, get your ass over here so I can kill you!”

Chasing Jason around the map and finally killing him took about ten minutes, which was probably the best Jason had ever played in his life, and only succeeded in frustrating Nico even more. He left the game abandoned in the living room as he ran out onto the balcony, afraid that if he waited even another second, Will might disappear.

He exhaled his nerves when he saw Will sitting on his balcony, glumly eating a salad. He glanced up when Nico shut the door behind himself, but quickly dropped his gaze back to his salad. “Hey. How are your friends?” he asked, angrily stabbing at his salad.

Nico couldn’t stop a smile from blooming. “Are you jealous that I was playing dumb video games with some losers from high school instead of talking with you?”

Will’s cheeks grew red. “I’m not jealous--”

“It’s okay if you are, ‘cause it’s kinda cute.” Will’s head shot up, and this time, it was Nico’s turn to blush. “That’s not… I didn’t really mean--” Nico averted his eyes and scratched at the back of his neck. “Um. How was your morning?”

Will stood, setting his bowl aside, and stepped up to the rail. “You know, maybe I was a little jealous after all.”

Nico glanced up. “Oh?”

“Mhm. I mean, if that’s what it takes for you to call me cute, I can act as jealous as you want.”

Nico grinned. “I think you’re cute either way.”

Nico didn’t know what time it was, but he guessed that it had to be past midnight considering how high the moon was and how far the temperature had dropped. At some point, he and Will had each abandoned their chairs in favor of sitting on the balcony floors, leaning back against the uncomfortable railing so they could stretch out and look up at the stars as they shared quiet conversation.

Will sighed. “You know, I could really go for a hug right now. Or, like, any physical contact with another human being would be nice.”

“A stiff handshake after a boring business meeting,” Nico offered.

Will snorted. “Okay, you got me there. But… Just think about it for a second. I love talking to you, Nico, don’t get me wrong, but… Imagine, instead of sitting fifteen feet away from each other, both behind bars like we’re prisoners in our own homes--”

“Which we are.”

“For our own safety, let me finish!” Will scolded, laughing. When he spoke again, his voice was much, much softer - not in the sense that he was hard to hear, but in a way that made Nico’s heart melt and ache and nearly pound out of his chest all at the same time. “Imagine we’re… sitting on a couch, next to each other. Maybe we’re watching a movie, or maybe we’re just...enjoying each other’s company, you know? We’re holding hands, or...maybe I’ve got an arm around your shoulders. I wish I could just...wrap my arms around you, and hold you close. That just sounds...really nice right now, don’t you think?”

If Will didn’t stop talking to him like that, Nico was going to fall in love with him.

Or maybe he would anyway.

How did he get to the point where this man who was an actual stranger just two weeks ago was pulling at Nico’s heartstrings in a way that made him want to jump off his balcony just in the hopes that he might reach all the way across the courtyard, and damn his touch aversion because he would give Will all the hugs he could ever want and more.

But instead of doing any of that, Nico sat on his balcony, staring longingly at that not-quite-stranger across from him, and swallowed around a lump of emotion in his throat. He croaked, “Yeah, that sounds...nice.”

Nico took his lunch out onto the balcony, but after half an hour of waiting, Will never showed. He tried texting Will a few times, and when he didn’t receive a response, he searched his balcony for those pebbles Will had thrown at his windows all those days ago and tried his own hand. He missed, mostly, but one or two or them hit as far as he could tell, so he counted it as a win. Except for the fact that Will still didn’t appear.

He brought his laptop out onto the balcony to do some work while he waited for Will to come outside, and stared at his screen for nearly an hour, periodically checking his phone for texts that didn’t come. When he finally paused to take in the day around him - the warm weather and the sun shining down on him - he heard something he hadn’t heard in quite a long time.

There were people walking down the street. He could hear cars on the road, the distant honking of horns. There were people out there, and Nico was still stuck inside his own apartment.

He checked his group chats, and sure enough, the most recent texts were in celebration of the end of quarantine.

His heart leapt at the realization that he could finally leave, he could finally see Will with less than fifteen feet between them, and just as quickly as the thoughts filled his head, the dread followed.

Will hadn’t been answering his texts, and probably for good reason. He had only been spending his time with Nico because there was no one else around to talk to. He hadn’t really been flirting at all - he was just nice and funny and made Nico fall in love with him only to break his heart the next day.

So instead of thinking about Will, Nico went back to work. At his desk. With the curtains shut.

And he still couldn’t make himself work.

After nearly an hour of staring at his computer screen, Nico gave up. He stood from his desk, grabbed his wallet and keys and started toward the door. He needed a cigarette.

Then, there was a knock on his door. Probably just someone from building management stopping by to let him know that he wouldn’t be held captive any longer and that he was free to come and go as he pleased. Well. He’d rather stay inside, thank you.

On the other side was Will - tall and blond and freckled and beautiful - with his hands held behind his back and the brightest smile on his face.

“Hey, there, Spooky,” Will said, and revealed his hands, which held a small bag of fun-sized Twix bars. “I got you something.”

“What are you doing here?” Nico asked, his thoughts and doubts once again fighting for dominance in his head.

“I believe you promised me a post-quarantine dinner date,” Will told him, and held out his arms. “Well, here I am!”

Nico took a hesitant step forward, then another, and then his hands were on Will’s cheeks, guiding him into a kiss - short and sweet, leaving no time to overthink or question himself. He didn’t even let himself pull away, instead choosing to wrap his arms around Will and hide his face in Will’s chest.

Will’s arms closed around him, comforting and warm, and while Nico tensed up at first, he relaxed almost immediately.

“You were right,” Nico whispered, tightening his hold.

“About what?” Will asked, pressed his lips into Nico’s hair.

“I didn’t really get it at the time, but… This human contact thing is pretty nice after all.”

Will grinned. “Just wait until we get to cuddling.”

thanks for reading!!

buy me a coffee to get me through quarantine?

#solangelo #will solace #nico di angelo #mine #my writing

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grifalinas · 3 years

Text

Batter Up (Working Title) (Chapter 2)

-/-

There was a lot of work to do in getting the front room cleared out, mostly moving things back to the stockroom, though some of the equipment boxes were set in one corner of the kitchen to be attended as soon as it was clean again.

Throughout the day, Samuel and Eddie worked together, first cleaning the kitchen up after Eddie’s disastrous attempt to prove that she could totally be a good baker for the shop!!, just give her a chance to show it!!, and then getting the equipment unboxed and set up. Samuel wouldn’t let Eddie do any of the hookup, once again citing her age and the potential liability if she were to get hurt.

Flint and Radley could hear snatches of their conversation when they passed through the kitchen from front room to stock room and back, exchanging fond looks over Eddie’s endless chatter and Samuel’s low timber when he responded, almost always prompting Eddie into another string of breathless, run-on sentences.

Raphael stopped by the shop late that evening to witness the two signing their contract, and once that was done it was time to call it a night; they all went their separate ways, Flint turning down Samuel’s offer of a ride when he found out the three Meadows (and Jock) were on foot.

“It’s just a few blocks, no big deal,” Flint assured his new partner, waving him away as they headed out into the night.

Raphael walked part of the way with them, having parked in the carpark a little down the road; while Radley and Eddie chattered and compared notes on- what else- the newest addition to their circle, Raphael fell back, Flint falling into step beside her to talk.

“So what do you think of Samuel?” Raphael asked, once she was sure the kids weren’t paying attention.

Flint just groaned in response, long and drawn out. Raphael chuckled and patted his shoulder.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself. He’s straight.”

“Seriously?! A man that beautiful practically lands in my lap and I haven’t even got a chance? What kinda monkey’s paw bullshit is that?”

This got another laugh out of his friend. “This dry spell is really getting to you, isn’t it?”

Flint waved that away. “It’s the kids, you know? With Les out of town for the foreseeable future I don’t really have a chance to go out on the pull, and I’m not bringing some drunk rando back to my apartment while they’re around anyway.”

“Well it’s probably for the best, honestly. You shouldn’t go mixing business and pleasure. You and Samuel will be a much better working partnership if you don’t muddy the waters with a sexual liaison.”

“Eh, I guess. Seriously though, how is he single? Straight women have taste too, they must have noticed how gorgeous he is?”

“He was married up until a year ago, actually.”

“Divorced or widowed?”

“Divorced. Between that and the accident, I imagine he hasn’t had much time to start dating again.”

“He has a daughter~” Eddie chirped, falling back enough to hear the tail end of their conversation. “He told me while we were scrubbing. Her name is Rosie and she’s my age and he’s going to take me to meet her and we’re going to be best friends.”

“Oh yeah?” Flint tossed an arm around her shoulders and ruffled her hair just to be irritating. “And if you don’t hit it off?”

“Mr. Bassington says Rosie doesn’t have many friends. So I’m thinking her standards are probably gonna be pretty low, and I can sneak in under the radar.”

“You and Rosie are going to get along very well, I think,” Raphael said. “In fact you might be just the sort of friend she needs.”

“What’s she like?” Eddie asked, as the group came to a stop at Raphael’s motorcycle.

“A little reserved. She’s been a bit sheltered all her life, but she’s a sweet girl- she just needs a little socialization. I’m sure she’ll like you just fine, low standards or not.”

Radley had been silent throughout this conversation, so once they’d parted ways with Raphael and were on their way to the apartment, Flint said, “So what do you think of Sam, then?”

He shrugged. “I’m not sure. When you were giving him his tour it felt like there wasn’t anything right about any of the work we’d done so far, and no consideration that we’ve only been at it a few days or a note that we did get the kitchen cleaned up and set up in that time. And he kept giving orders- you know, saying what we couldn’t do? You’re supposed to be partners but he’s already taking over.”

Flint nodded. That was about what he’d been thinking too, though he was willing to give Samuel time to grow on him. After all, he’d needed him for exactly that.

“Isn’t that what Uncle Flint hired him for though?” Eddie said, echoing Flint’s thoughts. “He was just doing his job.”

“What do you think of him?” Flint asked. “You were the one working with him all day. What kind of impression did he give you?”

“I like him! He’s really nice, he was super impressed when I told him about Jock winning the red ribbon at the dog park show last month and he didn’t even think it was a little disappointing that he didn’t win blue because second place is still extremely respectable and it just means that the dog who did win blue must be super impressive. And then he said that not getting first just meant that Jock and I still had plenty of room to grow and he was sure we’d do even better next time assuming there would be a next time because it’d be super okay if we decided not to do another dog show because of course things like that should only be done if they’re fun and if they’re not fun then we shouldn’t worry about them because Jock is only a pet dog anyway so he doesn’t need any kind of best in show ribbon to be a good boy.”

“If he didn’t run off after spending a day with this chatterbox, I think he’s worth the look-in,” Flint said, fluffing Eddie’s hair again. “His contract’s a two month trial period, by then we’ll know whether he’s a good fit for us and if he doesn’t work out, we won’t be stuck with him for too long.”

“If he doesn’t work out I can still be friends with Rosie though right?”

“Don’t you have any kind of loyalty?”

“I’m going to be loyal to Rosie, I think. I want her to like me.”

“You haven’t even met her yet.”

“Yeah but Mr. Bassington says she likes the Vampire Mummy Werewolf and Shark Teens and Cobalt and Crimson same as I do and she likes dogs and bunnies same as I do and she likes eighties rock and space stuff and museums same as I do and she likes to sew and paint and play the piano and I can’t do any of those things so I think probably we’ll get along really well cause I bet she’ll be interested in stuff I can do that she can’t and he says she can’t bake either so maybe we can learn how to bake together! And be best friends!”

She came to a halt and struck a pose that said, in flashing neon letters, ‘So THERE’. They’d reached their building while she talked; she fell silent when Flint fished his key out of his pocket to buzz them in, but no sooner were they in the elevator than she started up again.

“Uncle Flint, did I hear you say you think Mr. Bassington is handsome?”

“Handsome’s a word for it,” Flint growled. “Yes, I think he’s handsome, which is a crime, cause Raph says he’s straight.” He sighed. “What a waste of a good ass.”

“Dad says you’re not supposed to say stuff like that to us,” Radley reminded him.

“You’re seventeen, you’re old enough to hear swearwords. Just don’t repeat them,” he added belatedly. “Otherwise your dad will kick my ass.”

“I think it’s more because you’re implying the existence of sex as more than just a nebulous thing outside of our reach as teenagers, who we all know are completely unaware of anything pertaining to sex and definitely don’t have sexual thoughts of their own,” Eddie chimed in.

“Oh yeah?” Flint teased. “You haven’t been having sexual thoughts, surely? You, a teenage girl? Perish the thought.”

“Tch, please.” She scoffed and disappeared into the room she shared with her brother when they stayed with Flint, waving a dismissive hand at him while Flint stared after her. He looked to Radley.

“...she’s not sexually active, is she?”

“No, but she’s written a lot of smut fanfiction.”

“Is it any good?”

“It was written by a sexually inactive fifteen year old exploring her sexuality through a safe outlet. Of course it’s not any good.”

-/-

In her room, Eddie was looking very seriously over the selection of comic books she’d brought with her while she was staying with her uncle- not her entire collection, that was at home- and trying to decide which ones that Mr. Bassington hadn’t said Rosie was into that she could potentially interest her in.

She really wanted Rosie to like her. She couldn’t explain why; she had, as her uncle had pointed out, never met the girl, but her father had made her sound like the most amazing girl in the world, and Raphael had said she didn’t have many friends, and since Eddie didn’t have many friends either, it sounded like a match made in heaven.

It wasn’t enough to make Rosie like her; she wanted them to be best best best friends.

(Deep down in her heart, she knew this probably had to do with her own best friend drifting away from her. There was a gap in her soul that only a best friend could fill. But she wasn’t ready yet to process that, so she buried it and set herself to the task of speculating about what Rosie would be like.)

-/-

#this story is supposed to be about samuel and flint but it's rapidly becoming the eddie and deacon show #(y'all haven't met deacon cause i'm a few chapters ahead #but he and eddie are both show stealers #can't wait till they're in a scene together)#(eddie and deacon are ruby and mercury clones though so it's not surprising they're scene stealers)#batter up (working title)#please don't reblog this!#just comments will suffice!

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yuulina-vre · 3 years

Text

Gifting you a new life

Grocery shopping

Pairing: Steve x Bucky, Reader insert

Warnings: None

Word count: 3003 words

Part: Four

Summary: Y/N and Steve are going grocery shopping.

Masterlist

* * *

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Y/N shoots Steve a unbelieving look. “Steve. You had a migraine yesterday that let you faceplant twice, made you hit your head and nearly forced a concussion on you and got you to flirt with a stranger that you can’t remember anymore. I’m sorry if I don’t believe you when you say ‘you’re fine’.” She crosses her arms to give her words more strength. It seems to work since Steve starts blushing a little and ducking his head in shame. “I apologized.”

“I don’t need you to apologize, Steve. I need you to take care of yourself and not to force you to work when you clearly should take a day to recover.” The blonde men sighs but nods, though, Y/N can see that he won’t stay home like she hopes. “Fine, go to work, but I will force you home if I see as much as flinch at any louder sound or bright light.” She pints a finger at his chest and is rewarded with a heavy gulp and a nod. “Okay. Let’s go.” She grabs her bag from the kitchen table, quickly pushes her lunch into it and walks outside. She knows that Steve’s following so she doesn’t turn around but gets into the drier seat of the car. Steve eyes her with a slight growl and gets in beside her. He hates it if he’s not driving but doesn’t say anything, knowing that he won’t win that argument as well. While driving and replaying her decision to let Steve go to work, she remembers the card from Bucky. She hadn’t had any time showing it to Steve until know. They only had discussed the event of the last day at the breakfast table and even then, it was just a short conversation filled with lots of pancakes, juice, and coffee. “Steve, do you happen to know a James Barnes?”

“James…? No, don’t think so, why?” While driving with one hand she reaches for her jeans pocket and tries to get the card out of it, having shoved it there yesterday evening. “What are you doing? Get your hand back on the wheel!” Steve almost screeches but Y/N rolls her eyes. “Chill. Here. He was the guy that helped me yesterday.” She passes the little white card to Steve before getting her hand back on the wheel while sending a look to him. Steve nods before looking at the card. “Hmm, doesn’t look familiar. Oh, he s from the military.”

“He seemed determined and wants you to call him. It seemed important to him. He looked disappointed when he noticed that he couldn’t talk to you yesterday.”

“What exactly did he want?” Steve lifts his eyes to look at her but Y/N shrugs. “I don’t know. He didn’t really say. But he looked serious, only said that they found something that probably belongs to your father.”

“M-my father?” Steve inspects the card again. “He’s working in the lost-and-found office.” His voice suddenly sound toneless, without emotion and total neutral. Y/N glances quickly over to him. He’s staring at the card but his grip had intensified, knuckles turning a little white.

“What exactly is the lost and found department?”

“It’s, eh…” Steve shakes his head and sits up fully, groaning as the light his him directly into the face but covers it quickly with clearing his throat. “They return things people lost while on the battlefield. The found things go to the lost-and-found office and they try to find the people. It’s a difficult thing to do, not very easy I assume. Sometimes they have to give it to the family that’s left. I think there is pretty much emotion combined with the task since… Since most of the thing belonged to soldiers that… didn’t make it.”

“Do you think, that whatever bucky has, really belonged to your father?” She watches as Steve sinks a bit into the car seat. His expression isn’t readable, but Y/N thinks she sees some kind of hope in his eyes. She knows Steve loved his dad. And she knows he was really sad, still is, after he passed away. He has almost no memory of him, only some pictures his Ma left behind. His eyes wander instantly over to a picture of his parents on dashboard. “Maybe.” He throws a last look to the card before he throws it into the glove compartment and closes his eyes. The rest of the ride is silent. Y/N’s eyes switch back to him from time to time, hoping she didn’t make him uncomfortable.

* * *

“Y/N! You come shopping with me later?” Y/N looks up from her lunch in the cafeteria to see Steve come walking towards her, bright smile on his face and oblivious to all the girls staring at him. “Why?” She looks at him, a bit skeptical, sandwich still half in her mouth. He never asks her to accompany him because, when she does, they always buy more that is on the list. “No reason.” Steve shrugs and sits down opposite her, trying to look innocent. “Uhuh, okay, I just pretend I don’t know that you have something in mind and go along. But no complaining.” She points her fork from the salad at him and Steve lifts his hands in surrender. “I promise.”

“By the way. Did you hear from Bucky?”

“Bucky?”

“Mr. Barnes.” Y/N wriggles her eyebrows at Steve, making him blush while he probably remembers the events of last night yet again. Steve had promised to call him but Y/N suspects him to chicken out on it since he hate calling people. “I-I- W-why would I hear from him?” Steve clears his throat and looks around to see if any student is listening in on them. “Come on Steve, really? You’re supposed to call him. He’s waiting to har from you. And you did flirt with him.”

“A-and?”

“And? Steve! You like him, you’re blushing!” Y/N leans forward to throw a pointed look at him. “I do not.”

“You really want me to pull my pocket mirror from my bag and show you?” She raises a eyebrow and smirks as Steve quickly shakes his head, blush intensifying. “And I think he likes you, too.”

“Wha- How do you know?”

Why else would he willingly get a stranger to the toilet and back? He must like you.”

“He does not.”

“Steve!” Y/N hits him with her fork against the forehead. “He has to. He laughed at your attempted flirt. No one ever does!” She falls back into her chair with a disbelieving expression. She stares at Steve for a while, how he squirms on his chair until he looks at her. “Yeah okay, fine. I might like him, at least what I think I remember.” She points her fork at him again, this time with a noodle still on it and a smirk on her face. “So, are you going to call him now?”

“Now?”

“Yes, why not? He’s waiting for your call and lunchtime is as good as any other time.” She shrugs and shoves the fork into her mouth. “I-I don’t know.” Steve rubs his neck once again and stares outside. “Steve. He’s a really nice guy. I don’t know what you think would happen. Besides, it’s not like you have anything better to do, right?”

“Actually, I have to get the assignment ready.”

“That can wait the ten minutes it needs to call him.” Steve gives a forced smile before he clears his throat and stands up. “I meet you at the car.” Then he leaves quickly to escape more of Y/N’s incoming ‘harassment’. She settles on a deep sigh and shoves another fork of noodles in her mouth. She will make him call that man! She quickly finishes her lunch and puts her tray away, waving at some of her students and colleagues before she walks down the halls to get to her classroom.

She sits at her desk and gets some of her papers, filled with notes for the lessons, out of her bag and places them neatly on the desk before she roams through the classroom to get all the utensils the pupils will need. While she prepares each desk with brushes, waterglasses, canvases and paints the students start to filter in. lunch break still goes on for about ten minutes. “Hello, Ms. Y/L/N.” The brunette boy that enters the class with two friends’ waves at her. “Hello Peter. Hello Michelle, Ned.” She nods at the three teenagers and wonders briefly why they enter her class. They’re actually in one of Steve’s classes and should head over to his history lesson now. “Do you have a moment for us?”

“Oh, eh. Sure.” She motions for her desk, abandoning the paint sprinkled aprons on one of the desks. “What can I do for you?” The boy squirms a bit in front of her, pulling on the sleeves of his pullover and looking at his friends. Ned is tipping on his phone while Michelle only looks disinterested around the room. “Peter?”

“I-I… Listen Ms. Y/L/N. I know I’m actually in Mr. Rogers class and that you only see me when you take over his classes but I hoped you could help me out, since you’re friends with Mr. Roges and I really don’t know how to tal-”

“Peter.” Y/N interrupts him, smiles kindly at him and places a hand on his shoulder. “Take a deep breath and then get to the point.”

“Ah.. okay. Erm… See, I only got into Mr. Rogers class because MJ and Ned are in it but I know I’m not good in it and that I’m going to fail it, so I thought you could put in a word for me? Please?”

“Oh.” She had expected him to ask for help with the class in a private tuition way but not this. “I’m sorry, Peter. I don’t think I can do that.”

“Oh.” To say the boy looks crestfallen is an understatement. “But I’ve already talked to Ste- Mr. Rogers about your engineering plans and all. We thought it might be good to talk to Mr. Stark. Maybe we can transfer you to one of his classes. This way you won’t fail your art class. But you might have to get all the years’ worth of stuff in your head in just one week to pass the engineering class.” Peter’s face goes from sad to surprised to happy and back to sad. “That is if Mr. Stark agrees. Otherwise, you have to just fail Steve’s class. You could ask him to write a paper to change your grade.” Y/N shrugs and makes up her mind to talk to tony and Steve after this class. Peter nods. “I will, thank you.” He quickly waves at her and before she even knows what’s happening, he’s gone again and the rest of her class trickles in.

* * *

The class goes by nicely, the students actually try their best and Y/N is pretty proud of them. After all, exams are right on the doorstep. Y/N packs her things and walks down to the parking lot. Steve is already waiting, running up and down next to his pickup but stops as he sees Y/N coming closer. He smiles shortly before he gets into the car. Y/N raises her eyebrows but follows him. “Did you call him?”

“Who?” Steve plays innocent and Y/N rolls her eyes. Of course, Steve doesn’t answer her questions in the car. “Steve. This can go two ways.” Y/N crosses her arms and send him a look of annoyance. “And that are which?”

“Either you call him and invite him for dinner, I’ll cook something special or…”

“Or?”

“Or I’m calling him.” Steve looks at her and Y/N looks at him. Neither of them saying more. “Thaaat doesn’t sound so bad.”

“Yeah. But if I’m calling him then I’ll make you cooking dinner and we both know how that will turn out.”

“You wouldn’t!” Steve gasps in horror. Y/N smirks, knowing well enough that Steve can’t cook for saving his life. She doesn’t even know how he lived on his own before they moved in together. Probably ordered take out every day. So now she decides to let her arms crossed and only raise an eyebrow, letting him squirm until he nods. “Okay, okay. I’ll call him… After shopping.”

“Steve, you’re an adult. I don’t know why you don’t like calling people. You have to do it on a regular basis.”

“I just don’t like it.”

“Yeah, but-”

“Can we just agree that I’m calling him after shopping?!” She all but blurts in a panic. Y/N sighs and shakes her head. “Fine.” She nods and lets Steve drive in silence to the grocery store.

They park and get out of the car to take a cart before they walk into the store. Y/N leads Steve through aisle after aisle until she stops. “Oh Steve, you’re in deep shit.” She turns around and eyes him knowingly. “What?” Steve looks confused. The smirk she shows him sends his face into a panic. “What?” He squeaks again and looks around.

“How good that you asked me to accompany you. Who knew that a certain someone would be shopping here, too? So, know you talk to said someone instead of calling and we still get our shopping done.” Steve frowns a moment until he sees the someone she’s talking about and gets so red in his face that Y/N blurts out laughing. “Go on you hero.” Y/N takes Steve’s arm and pushes him in the direction she just spotted the brunette ex-soldier. Steve stops though and squeezes her hand with a fond smile. “Y/N! I can’t. what am I going to say?”

“That is for you to figure out.” She chuckles and carefully loosens his hand on her arm. “Just invite him for dinner, Casanova.” She watches him frown a second and cleans his sweaty hands on his jeans before he walks in the direction of the other man and tap his shoulder. Bucky turns around, a little confused but then smiles brightly as he sees Steve. They talk for a moment, Steve pointing behind him with his thumb and bucky lanes a little to the side and catches Y/N’s eyes. He waves at her, still smiling, and she waves back before she actually turns away and continues the shopping.

She sees both of them a few times, walking together through the aisles. Sometimes they’re both blushing and Y/N thinks that there’s a little bit of awkward flirting involved. At some point Y/N got everything that’s on the list, and a little more, and searches for both men again. They’re just standing in the animal aisle and Y/N watches for a moment. Bucky takes a package of cat food and adds it to the cart, laughing at something that Steve had said. She’s reluctant to interrupt, wanting them both to get closer. She already ships both of them since they seem to get along so well. She can’t check out and get the stuff into the car on her own, though. Steve has the keys. She walks slowly up to them, smiling as she hears both of them laughing. “Hello Bucky.”

“Y/N.” Bucky smiles back and Steve turns around. He looks a little annoyed that she interrupts but recovers as he sees the full cart. “Was that all on the list?” He quirks an eyebrow at her and Y/N laughs. “Of course not. But you promised you won’t be mad, so you can’t. And it’s your fault anyway for letting me do it on my own.” That makes Bucky laugh. Steve’s head spins around to the man and a fond smile forms on his face. They talk while going to pick up the last things Bucky needs and walk to the check out. The moment Y/N has paid she feels that Steve and Bucky are a little disappointed that they have to say goodbye now. “Bucky, it was nice to see you again.” Y/N smiles at him and he smiles back. “Yeah, I’m glad too.” They smile at each other and /N catches Steve staring a little, so she nudges him in the ribs. “Well, I’m waiting at the car. Keys?” Steve startles a little, looks embarred but gives her the keys. She gives him that look again before slowly pushing her cart away. “Maybe you should come over for dinner? Tomorrow? As a thank you for helping me?” Y/N hears Steve ask and looks over her shoulder, while pushing the cart painfully slow to listen in. Steve has a light blush on his cheeks. “Oh. I-” Bucky looks at Steve with a blush of his own and then nods. “I would like that.”

“Great! I-I mean, eh, great. Yeah.” Y/N rolls hear eyes at his awkwardness. How he’s ever going to get a date is beyond her. After a few second, she hears hurried steps behind her as Steve quickly catches up with her. They’re are almost at Steve’s car as they hear a shout. “Steve! Wait a sec.” They turn around and see Bucky running up to them. Y/N quickly walks further to not disturb them, knowing that this conversation is something that’s not for her ears. Probably. She sees that they both shuffle nervously and Steve nods with the brightest smile she has seen in years. Bucky blushes a little, nods, too, and walks away then. Steve comes up to her as she loads the car, still smiling and a dreaming look on his face. “What did he want?” Y/N raises her eyebrows with her own little smile. Steve looks back at Bucky, who loads his own car now and Y/N has the feeling that he’s smiling, too. “He asked me if I like football.” Steve stares at her before he grabs her shoulders and shakes her, smile widening. “Y/N! He looks so handsome and is funny and he’s coming over to watch football and eat dinner with us!”

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#Steve Rogers #Bucky Barnes #Steve x Bucky #Bucky x Steve #Reader #reader insert #Yuulina writes

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