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watchmegetobsessed · 3 years

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Never Have I Ever - Harry Styles

this is very random and just a lil somethin’, bc i secretly dream about being on one of these shows and meeting one of my crushes lmao, not me pretending to be at an interview in my own kitchen, hah, not at all!

hi hello so im adding this after this was posted. i randomly turned this into a series so you can find further parts for this in the series masterpost!

word count: 1.8k

pairing: Harry x actress!reader

SERIES MASTERPOST

masterlist

“It’s so good to have you here, it’s been quite some time since the last time you sat in this chair, am I right?” Ellen asked with a warm smile as you nodded.

“Yeah, I’ve been busy, I guess,” you chuckle tugging your hair behind your ear.

“I mean, of course. You starred in two movies since then and even got nominated for an Emmy as well for your role in The Umbrella Academy!” she lists and the audience starts cheering on your successes. “Of course you’ve been busy, but I’m glad you had time to drop by for a talk. So, let’s talk about your upcoming movie. You’ll be co-stars with Zendaya and Finn Wolfhard, it’s a quite interesting cast.”

“Yes! I’m very excited to work with them, I just met Zendaya the other day and though I’M yet to meet Finn I’m sure we will get along well.”

“What was your first impression about Zendaya?”

“Oh, she is very sweet and funny, I think working with her will be more like just a fun activity,” you admit chuckling and Ellen nods in agreement.

“I bet. Alright. So let’s talk about quarantine, it was a rather huge part of the year, where did you spend it?”

“I went home to my family, so I quarantined with them in my hometown.”

“And what did you do mostly?”

“We played a lot of board games and my mom taught me to cook,” you admit with a shy chuckle.

“Yeah, we had the luck to see parts of that,” Ellen chuckles as a video of you and your mom in the kitchen appears on the big screen behind you. It was posted to your Instagram when she attempted to teach you how to make her famous meatloaf. “It seems like you are a natural talent in the kitchen.”

“Well, I haven’t burned it down, so it’s going fine,” you chuckle.

“Alright, and what else did you do? Seen any good movies or discovered some new artists in the world of music?”

“Oh, absolutely. I definitely watched everything I’ve been postponing and I got to listen to new music, so now I have a few new favorites,” you admit smiling.

“Have you been listening to Harry Styles lately?” she asks and you find the question a little odd and very… specific.

“I mean, yes, but it wasn’t anything new, I really like his music,” you admit truthfully. “He is a great artist for sure.”

“Have you been at any of his concerts by any chance?” she asks and you notice that the audience is getting a little excited over something, but you don’t pay too much attention to it.

“Not yet, but I hope it’s gonna happen one day.”

“Well, I think I can get you tickets to see him,” a voice speaks up from behind you and immediately, the audience starts cheering as your head snaps around and you see none other than Harry Styles standing behind you. Your mouth hangs open as you feel yourself blushing, he is so tall and handsome, dressed in a bright blue suit with a silver shirt underneath, smiling down at you widely as he walks around the armchairs to greet you.

“Oh shit, I was not expecting this,” you breathe out as you stand up and hug him shortly before he moves over to greet Ellen as well.

“’M glad you like my music, Love,” he smiles as he sits in the armchair next to you and you swear you see him wink at you.

“We thought you wouldn’t mind our other guest joining in,” Ellen explains Harry’s appearance.

“Not at all,” you smile shaking your head. Harry has been your celebrity crush for quite a while, but the two of you just never crossed paths, until now.

“’S very nice to meet yeh,” he nods in your way.

“Same goes for you.”

“Okay, so now that Harry is here, I thought that we could play a little game,” Ellen announces reaching for something next to her armchair.

“Oh man,” you breathe out earning a round of laughter from the audience. “Last time we played something you asked me the most embarrassing burning questions!” you whine thinking back how you had to admit that you sleep with your lights on when it’s raining outside.

“We’ll do something similar this time too,” she chuckles before handing out two round boards to you and Harry as well.

“Oh fo’ fuck’s sake!” Harry groans making the audience laugh again. “Not this!”

“I know you loved it when we played it the last time,” Ellen grins as Harry hides his face behind the board that’s now showing his I HAVE sign towards the cameras. “We’re gonna play Never Have I Ever, I think you both know the rules.”

“Yes, this is why I want to run away now,” you mumble under your breath.

“I’m going with yeh,” Harry smirks at you finally letting his board drop to his knees. Seemingly, the audience is enjoying your misery.

“Don’t be babies, it’s gonna be fun!” “For who? Not me!” Harry exclaims making everyone in the studio laugh. “Should’ve asked what we’re gonna do before I said yes.”

“Too late, Harry. Alright, let’s start,” Ellen announces as she takes her card in her hands, picking the first one and she reads the lines on it. “Never have I ever had a crush on someone I worked with.”

You huff as you turn your board so the I HAVE side is facing the camera, while Ellen has the same side showing, but Harry shows the I HAVE NEVER.

“Never?” you ask Harry.

“Well, what do yeh mean by working with?” he asks with narrow eyes as he taps on his chin.

“Anyone you had any relations with through a job.”

“Well then…” he sighs turning the board, earning some cheering.

“Okay. Never have I ever drunk texted someone and regretted it in the morning,” Ellen continues with the next question.

“Oh, too often,” you blurt out holding up the I HAVE side.

“What did yeh write?” Harry asks with a cheeky smile while he holds up the same side.

“Well, there are just too many, I can’t choose,” you admit laughing. “I often tend to write down my feelings when I had a little too much to drink and then send it without a second thought.”

“Then I better get yeh drunk to find out what yeh think about me,” Harry teases and you hear a loud “ooh” coming from the audience while you can only hope your make up covers the blush on your cheeks.

“I’d need your number for that to happen,” you say arching an eyebrow at him.

“That’s something we can easily fix,” he smirks.

“Okay, before the two of you go on your first date right away, let’s finish the game,” Ellen jokes and you both turn to her. “Never have I ever kissed someone I didn’t know.”

“What do you mean by knowing someone?” you ask to clarify.

“Let’s say you didn’t even know their name,” she adds and as you think about it, you hold up the I HAVE NEVER side first, but then flip it over.

“Oh, something popped into yeh mind?” Harry teases while he holds up the I HAVE side as well.

“I guess I just want to forget about it, but I can’t,” you admit chuckling awkwardly.

“Were you drunk or you just didn’t care to ask for their name?” Ellen questions.

“I’ve had quite a few drinks if I’m being honest. But I think he told me his name, I just didn’t catch it,” you admit.

“Poor guy, he is completely forgotten,” Harry chimes in shaking his head in a dramatic way.

“Alright, we have two more questions. Never have I ever had a friend with benefits.”

“This game sucks!” you snap as you hold up the I HAVE side, making the audience laugh. “You’re making me look like such a bad person!” you whine to Ellen.

“Don’t feel so bad, Harry is in the same shoe!” she chuckles and turning to the man on your right you see that Harry has the same side showing and a very cheeky smirk on his lips.

“How did it end?” you ask out of curiosity. You know how yours ended, in a horrible fight, because he wanted more, but you were in it just for the fun.

“Not in the best way, if I’m bein’ honest,” he clears his throat leaning back in his seat. “How about yours?”

“Same,” you nod chuckling.

“I guess it was a learning lesson for the both of you,” Ellen smirks before reading the last question. “Never have I ever ghosted somebody.”

“Shit,” you mumble, trying to hide your smirk as you hold up the I HAVE side. Harry thinks to himself before doing the same. Leaning forward he checks yours and your eyes meet for a moment.

“I think it would be an honor to anyone to be ghosted by yeh,” he teases you making you roll your eyes. “Wha’? ‘M telling the truth!” he chuckles.

“Wanna get on the list of my ghosted people?” you joke raising your eyebrows at him and he immediately holds his hands up.

“Would rather not.” He places a hand over his heart before smiling in your way sweetly. “Tha’ would break m’ heart.”

“Oh come on!” you chuckle feeling the heat crawling up your neck and cheeks as the audience lets out a soft “aww” at his words.

“Alright, thank you for playing, I think we found out some interesting things about the both of you.”

“Thanks for embarrassing us,” you add mumbling as you hand her back the board.

“It was a pleasure,” she chuckles. “We’ll be right back after a short break, please stay with us, we have more from Y/N and Harry coming right in your way, so stay tuned!” she announces as the crowd cheers.

“Friends with benefits, huh?” Harry asks smirking in your way as you fix your dress. You just shrug your shoulder trying to look casual when you feel so intimidated sitting next to him.

“Had to try it, I guess,” you admit.

“I get it,” he chuckles. “So, if I were to ask for yeh number, would I eventually be ghosted as well?”

You have to bite into your bottom lip to hide your growing smile at his attempt to flirt with you.

“We’ll see. You gotta ask for it first,” you tell him with a knowing smile, hoping to look flirty and light, not the nervous wreck that you truly feel like talking to him.

“I think my dressing room is two doors down yours, so expect me to drop by after this,” he smirks, making your heart skip a beat before Ellen starts speaking and the taping continues.

NEXT PART

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader

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fraddit · 2 years

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I wanted to do a fic rec list for buddie, but also I hate deciding things and I’m bad at writing pretty things about the fics I like. So I went through my roughly 200 ao3 buddie bookmarks, pulled out the ones that, as stated above, made my brain go !!!, and put them in alphabetical order.

There’s 50 fics in total, so I broke it down to 5 more manageable posts of 10 fics each. This is post number 4. I hope you enjoy.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Five

lead me to the light by @extasiswings (NR, word count varies)

A series of prompt fills originally posted elsewhere. Buddie-centric. See individual chapters for summaries and ratings.

What it says on the tin. But, the one that I’m specifically obsessed with is Chapter 13: Broken Hearts. It’s 423 words and each word owns my entire angst loving heart. (If anyone knows of any other fics with similar vibe to this, please let me know.)

Leading with the Left by @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (E, 85k)

When Buck said he was a “bartender” in “South America” what he actually meant was “stripper” in “Mexico.” And when Eddie said, “What’s your problem?” what he actually meant was, “Is this about the time you gave me a lap dance?” In other words, there’s a few things the 118 doesn’t know about Buck. Or Eddie. Or Buck and Eddie’s relationship.

Leave the Light On (I’ll Be Coming Home) by @hmslusitania (M, 44k)

“We’re here for our grandson,” Helena says. “Chris is still sleeping,” Buck says. “I meant, we’re here to take him back to Texas,” Helena clarifies. “Yeah,” Buck says. He’s too tired, way too tired to be tactful. “Over my dead body.” – An accident on a call leaves Buck with custody of Chris after Eddie is… missing presumed. While they navigate their new family circumstances – and fight to stay together, despite Eddie’s parents’ best efforts – a John Doe wakes up in a coma ward with no memory of his own life beyond the knowledge he has a son named Christopher and, somehow, he needs to get home.

Like a Sack of Bricks by @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (T, 3k)

One word from Christopher, and Eddie’s realizing he’s made a serious miscalculation about his best friend.

no kingdom to come by @waywardrenegades (T, 23k)

Family, FaceTime, guilt trips, phone calls, church, heart healthy meals, and learning how to let yourself be happy. Whatever that looks like. or; when his father experiences a health scare, Eddie flies to El Paso.

of men and of angels by @extasiswings (T, 13.5k)

For now we see in a mirror, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know fully even as also I was fully known. - 1 Corinthians 13:12 Eddie Diaz learns a lot as a kid. Boys aren’t soft. Boys don’t cry. Boys don’t kiss boys. As he gets older, he realizes that everything has exceptions. Boys can be soft sometimes. Boys can cry sometimes. And some boys kiss other boys. But Eddie likes kissing girls. And since he likes kissing girls, that’s the end of the story. Isn’t it? [Or: the one with all the repression]

once there was a way by @rewritetheending (M, 5k)

“And then his phone rings. He scoops it up from where it rests on the table behind them, his lungs constricting as soon as he sees Sophia’s name on the display. There’s no chance it will be good news, not at this hour – drunken shenanigans come in the form of a text, while tragedy must be given a voice. Eddie turns to face Buck as he answers, but backs up as though the distance might help anything at all. Buck reads his reaction easily, even more attuned to each of Eddie’s expressions in the wake of his panic attacks, but stays next to the sink while Eddie listens to his sister. It’s only the moment Eddie drops the phone, his eyes burning with tears too stubborn to fall, that Buck gives up and steps forward, cautious as he waits for Eddie to tell him to stop. Eddie can’t—he won’t—he needs.” (An expansion of a tumblr ficlet prompt, because fleurdebeton enabled me.)

shout if you want my heart by @hattalove (T, 6k)

“I’m not even in the neighborhood of mad,” he says, instead of vomiting any of the thousand feelings warring inside him. “But Buck. This would’ve—this took you hours.” “I’m good at multitasking,” Buck says, and Eddie can practically hear him shrugging over the phone. “I did all the cooking after I put Chris to bed, and then I got up a little earlier to get the cleaning and laundry done. It was nothing.” Eddie’s starting to suspect he’ll have to wait for Buck to come back to make him understand that, actually, it kind of was everything. or, eddie has a tupperware-induced emotional crisis.

Still Waters by @milenadaniels (E, 7k)

As Eddie lays on the hot pavement bleeding out, his eyes locked on Buck’s bloody face, his hand reaching out towards him, what washes over him isn’t his hard-earned stillness nor is it shock. It’s clarity, edging slowly into focus from off-stage. And when he wakes up in the hospital bed and registers a soft, slim hand in his, he thinks, “no, that’s not it”. —- Or, Five Ways Eddie’s Body Feels Different After the Shooting

tell the whole wide world and this room by @hattalove (T, 5k)

“I talk a lot. It’s probably not fun to sit through for something you’ll just instantly forget.” Eddie tilts his head. “Who’s forgetting?” in which we learn about fermented milk products, discover that dolphins are sex fiends, and realize that sometimes, it really is all about knowing and being known.

#911 #911 fox #buddie #buddie fic #buddie fic rec #eddie diaz #evan buckley #fraddit buddie fic recs #shut up fraddit

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bokettochild · 3 years

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Fic request! Legend and Ravio being best buds and being there for each other? Or like just them getting along. Platonic cuddling? I love them both.

Slight self projection on this one, but oh well!

I really like writing the dynamic for these two! But i would like to clarify that I write it as being strictly platonic.

Yes, Ravio does kiss Legend on occasion. But Ravio is a toucher, and that's just how he loves! For him, that's normal, that's something you do to those you love, not just in couples :)

Legend isn't great about physical touch, mostly because he's unaccustomed to it. He loves it, he just doesn't know how to ask for it or receive it most of the time.

And with that cleared up, on to the fic!!!

Mr. Hero was acting weird again.

His family had come back to visit again, and while many of them were wrapped in bandages and sporting some rather nasty wound, Mr. Hero seemed to be relatively well off from the fight. He wasn’t untouched, this was Mr. Hero after all, but he wasn’t as poorly as some of the others, which is why it was so odd for Ravio to find him curled up on the couch in their living room when he’d thought that everyone had gone to visit the local village.

They’d talked about it over breakfast. They’d arrived yesterday and hadn’t had time to restock in a while. The worse injuries were a broken arm on Mr. Smithy’s part, and that in no way hampered them from being able to do a run to the village, and it seemed many of Mr. Hero’s family saw visiting towns and villages as something of a treat.

They had been so eager over breakfast, talking over each other while Mr. Hero had rolled his eyes and pushed Tune- Wind back into his seat, scolding the champion for chewing with his mouth open and generally just correcting table manners and keeping people under control during the meal. Typical Mr. Hero, fussing over everything being right but pretending not to care, Ravio wouldn’t be surprised if the next time he sees them all they all eat like they’re in a castle, Mr. Hero’s just the kind of person to subtly train them all to behave lest they be faces with his flashing indigo gaze.

But he really would have thought, what with how everyone had chattered, that Mr. Hero would be with them all, leading them through the village and haggling with shopkeepers on the prices of potions and food. Yet here he sits, curled on their couch with that bulky quilt he likes so much thrown over his shoulders. Mr. Hero hasn’t bothered to fix his hair or tuck it under his cap, and it tumbles down his shoulders in a messy tangle as the Hylian stares unseeing at the far wall.

Ravio pauses in the entryway to the living room, his cup of cider still on one hand, and the book he’d been hoping to read in the other, heart torn over walking back into the kitchen and asking why Mr. Hero isn’t with his family. The slight shudder that runs across Mr. Hero's shoulders is all he needs as an answer and it’s without a second thought that the merchant strides across the room to settle on the couch beside his housemate, eyes bright and smile disarming as he looks over to Mr. Hero.

Dull violet meets his own green as Mr. Hero pauses and sighs, gaze shifting back down to the ground.

Oh. Oh, this is bad.

No snark, no dismissal, no ‘Ravio, I’m not in the mood’. Mr. Hero is at a stage where he is simply accepting things, and that’s never good!

“Why the long face?” He prods gently, settling himself on the couch as Mr. Hero moves slightly to accommodate him.

Okay, that’s even worse. Mr. Hero is being accommodating.

Oh Lolia, is he dying?

“Enervated.” Mr. Hero drawls, and Ravio is now officially freaking out. The big words have come out, the big words that he doesn’t know the definition of. His gaze trails back over to his book.

Most people don’t consider reading a thesaurus a past-time, and Ravio never would have considered it before moving in with Mr. Hero, but if he wants to understand the hero than he needs to know all the words that will crop up in his vocabulary anytime he is especially tired or bored.”

“E-enerv-”

“Tired.” Mr. Hero clarifies, shifting in place and drawing the blanket tighter around is shoulders.

Sharp green eyes watch his movements. It’s autumn and a slight chill has pervaded the air, but there really isn’t any need for the heavy blanket in this weather. Maybe a shawl or afghan of some sort, but the thickest and heaviest blanket in the entire house? That’s just plain overkill!

“Just tired?” He doesn’t even bother pretending to respect Mr. Hero’s space as he reaches out to rest his hand on his housemate’s forehead, gently shifting to touch the vet’s cheek. Rather than shake him off, Mr. Hero gently leans into the touch, eyes fluttering closed gently as a breath whistle from his lips. Ravio frowns as he pulls back.

Mr. Hero is warm, but not unhealthily so, and it can probably be blamed on the heavy quilt he’s got throw over his shoulders.

The merchant quirks a brow. “Are you cold?”

Mr. Hero’s face twitches oddly, eyes darting up to meet Ravio’s before drifting back down; blank and tired in a way they often are after a long day. But today has not been a long day, he reminds himself, and Mr. Hero must have been in here since finishing dishes with him this morning.

“Yes.” Mr. Hero murmurs softly, more at the folds of his blanket then at Ravio. “But not...outside?”

And that is... that is confusing.

“I don’t understand.” He half wishes for his hood and robe, but he’d only just finished cleaning and he hasn’t put them on again, so he plucks instead at the edge of his scarf, similar to what Mr. Captain Hero Sir does when he’s anxious.

Mr. Hero huffs a breath. “I wouldn’t expect you to. Glad you don’t.”

He doesn’t like the blankness of Mr. Hero's face or the heaviness of his words. “Can you explain it to me?”

If there’s one thing that brings light into his friend’s eyes, it’s teaching. Mr. Hero loves to share his knowledge, and Ravio has sat contentedly through a dozen lectures on bee-keeping and orchard work or weapons care and traveling precautions and any number of other things. All he ever needs is a cup of cider and a warm nook to bundle himself away while Mr. Hero talks. Goodness knows he chatters quite a bit himself; Mr. Hero deserves to have an audience on occasion too, and he always has such interesting things to say that Ravio never minds listening.

But Mr. Hero’s eyes don’t light up with that glint of passion and his fingers don’t tap with barely contained energy. Quite the opposite. He curls in closer around himself, eyes clouded as he breaths heavily. “It’s like there’s somethin’ ‘side you that’s cold an’ empty. Like you swallowed ice or somethin’ cold like an’ it won’t melt. You can be toasty warm on the outside and it ne’er goes away, it’s jist-” The pink-haired Hylian’s ears flick as his nose twitches with pent up irritation. “It’s like you’re empty and no matter how much you eat or sleep or keep busy, it ne’er goes away.”

Understanding dawns with a heavy heart and tears pricking in his eyes. “I think that's called loneliness, Mr. Hero.”

Mr. Hero’s eyes glisten as he turns away. “’m not lonely. There’s eight people on my tail on the day to day an’ I can’t lose ‘em even if I tried.”

The tight ball Mr. Hero is curled into could be defensive or self-comforting, and he can’t tell which, but Mr. Hero's grip on his blanket laden shoulders is too tight to be anything short of strained.

“Being with people doesn’t mean you aren’t lonely.” Ravio’s voice comes softer than he means it too.

Mr. Hero once complained that his own voice was trapped in the stage of squeaking and breaking, but Ravio’s could drop low ‘till it was nothing but a deep vibration. He’s teased Mr. Hero about it more than once, but he finds that it’s also effective at making the other boy calm. Mr. Hero loosens so now, eyes still blank as Ravio stares at them, hoping that they’ll turn to meet his gaze. “You can feel lonely in the middle of a full kingdom.”

He knows. He remembers hiding in his big room in the castle and wishing that it wasn’t so cold and empty and that someone would look at him and see something other than a cowardly advisor. He'd wanted someone to look at him and see a friend, or a brother or a loved one. He’d wanted to matter and be safe in the warmth that was a real home.

Mr. Hero gave him that. Mr. Hero’s house, with its big apple tree and buzzing bees, it’s pokey little kitchen and creaky staircase, the blasted rocker and the freaky masks on the wall, all of it makes this house a home that is so distinctly Mr. Hero's, yet somehow also his own.

He can see it in the knitting needles stashed in their basket by the couch. In the mugs that he’s left empty on bookshelves and table tops. He sees himself in the drawing of the curtains to let in sunlight, and the organization of the items on the shelves and the wall.

This is their home, something that is both of them, and it’s always felt warm and fulfilling to him.

He’d never realized that Mr. Hero might not feel the same...

It’s on impulse, and the fact that Mr. Hero doesn’t push him away speaks volumes, but Ravio scoots forwards and pulls the veteran hero over to rest against his chest, his arms wrapping tight around his friend as heavy breaths escape from them both.

“Is this better?” He whispers softly against the pink that curls beneath his chin and the fluttering breath of Mr. Hero.

There’s only a faint grunt from the hero in his arms, non-committal, but Mr. Hero isn’t complaining or pushing him away, so he doesn’t let him go either. Never mind that he’s almost pulled his friend on top of him, Mr. Hero needs a hug, and Lolia danggit! Ravio is going to give him the best one he’s capable of!

Mr. Hero’s breath evens out as he adjusts a few times, shifting but never pulling away, and Ravio takes that as a cue to make himself comfortable.

Short, pale fingers trail up to weave through curling pink locks that are still unbrushed from the night before. It’s silky under his touch, a testament to his friend’s alternate form, and he takes no small amount of pleasure in winding his fingers through it and gently tugging out the tangles. Mr. Hero only sighs under his ministrations.

“It’s okay to ask for hugs you know.” He teases softly, almost disappointed that he can’t see how his housemate blushes and stiffens, but Mr. Hero's ears give him away, red as they are, and a smile tugs across his face when he sees it. “I'm sure Mr. Chosen Hero would love to hug you, he seems like that kind of person. And Mr. Smithy always seems fond of that sort of thing. Why, even-”

“Shup.” Mr. Hero huffs, and Ravio grins as his eyes fall down to where his friend’s arms have wrapped around his waist, a messy head of pink lying against his chest and the full weight of hero and blanket pressing down on him.

He doesn’t respond, but he does go back to running his hands through Mr. Hero’s hair.

A tune comes to mind as he sits there, and he lets the melody drift through the room as he absently strokes Mr. Hero’s long pink hair, the book in his hands capturing his attention until soft squeaking snores begin to sound from the hero on his chest.

No one’s there to see the kiss he presses to the mess of petal pink, and when the others return from their trip, neither of the two bunnies is awake to say anything at all.

The heroes stop in the doorway, surprise and fondness taking over their faces at the sight of both of their hosts stretched out over the couch, Legend lying over the top of Ravio, one of the merchant’s hands still resting on Legend’s head while the other hangs down towards the floor, barely grasping the book he'd been reading (Wind makes a comment about reading a thesaurus being strange, but no one really questions it too much). Legend’s arms are still wrapped tight around Ravio’s waist, his cheek pressed against the merchant's chest as squeaking snores escape through parted lips.

They’ve never seen the veteran so peaceful, Time muses as he removed the book from Ravio’s hand and tucks the quilt tighter around the two, noting with surprise it’s weight. Neither hero nor merchant wake, although Ravio does shift in his sleep at the disturbance, but the two are out cold.

There’s the snap of a shutter and a faint coo as he looks up, single blue eye meeting Wild’s own, the champion smiling sheepishly from behind the slate, the image on the screen of him knelt beside the two boys, tucking them in on the couch. Time smiles at his cub. “I want a copy of that picture, you hear?”

“Yes sir.” The champion whispers in return.

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu ravio #lu legend #fluffics #linked universe fanfic #linked universe fic requests #lu time #lu wild #not ravio\i #do not tag as ship #thank you!

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obsessive-ego · 3 years

Text

Just go with it

Musical beetlejuice x reader

Lewd mentions

Beetlejuice needs you to pretend to be his fiance or he's in trouble

"Babes?"

...

"Babes, wake up"

....?

"Y/n wake up"

What?

Was your first thought as you are shaken awake by the ghost who has made your home his, you mumble out something unintelligible as you grope around for your phone, you cringe as the bright light of the screen blinds you, as your eyes adjust to the light you groan, 4am.

"Beetlejuice, what-"

"Okay, babes, no time to explain but I need you to pretend to be my fiance" despite the odd statement beetlejuice sounded a tad worried.

"What?"

"Long story short I may have said a few things to some guys, and if we dont pull this off I will be dragged back to the netherworld" the ghoul whispered dragging you out if bed.

"Oh" was all you could muster is your drowsy state.

"So theres a suit from the netherworld waiting to meet you, in your living room, now" beetlejuice continued rubbing the back of his neck.

You sigh and shuffle about your room, slipping on slippers and giving your hair a quick once over, as you reach for your housecoat beetlejuice swats away your hand.

"Bee-"

Beetlejuice drops his jacket around your shoulders "this will work much better babes, we need to sell this"

You groan, you were too tired for this, thank god you didnt work in the morning, who knows how long this shit is gonna take, but as tired as you were you couldnt let whoever take your ghost back to the netherworld.

"Okay you're my fiance, I proposed a week ago, and you're head over heels for me, that last part wont be hard to fake huh doll?" The ghoul gives you a wink, you sigh.

"Wait, almost forgot" the ghoul snaps his fingers, you feel a light squeeze on you right handed middle finger.

Upon your finger appears rather tacky, pretty ring, the band was black and white, and resembled a snake, the gem was a brilliant green, you honestly felt your heart squeeze when you saw it, to be honest staring at the ring felt like a dream, maybe because you just woke up? It was beautiful, and the idea of it being for real kinda hurt knowing it was for pretend, but those feelings didnt matter right now, Beej needed you to help him avoid being dragged back to the netherworld, you can think about those depressing emotions later.

The two of you leave the bedroom, beetlejuice takes the lead as you shuffle behind.

As the two of you enter the living room you could help but pause and stare at the 'suit' beej claimed that was waiting for you.

In your little arm chair sat a fairly tall skeleton man, his bones a blueish hue, wearing a lime green suit that looked fresh off the rack, guess not all dead guys wore dirty clothes, in all honesty this was your first time seeing another dead person aside from the maitlands and beetlejuice, they were human, beej was humanish, but this guy looked like he walked out of a cartoon.

"Sorry for the wait, you know breathers, they need to sleep" beetlejuice cackled snapping you from your thoughts "well there's y/n, theres the ring, and theres the door, feel free to use it" beetlejuice snears, wanting to get this whole thing done with, yes he adored messing with you, and with different circumstances this could have been funny, but too much was on the line for him and you were an awful liar, he loved you sure, but theres no way you could pull off lying.

"Y/n I presume?" The skeleton gestures to you, completely ignoring beetlejuice, you nod "its pleasure to put a face to the name, I apologize for the rude awakening, when you've been dead for as long as I have, you tend to lose the meaning of time, my dear this wont take long, we just need to clear up some loose ends then you can get back to your rest" the skeleton gestures you to sit on the couch next to beetlejuice who has already made himself comfortable.

You gently sit down next to BJ who was quick to drape an arm over your shoulders and pull you into his side.

The skeleton pulls out a clipboard from his jacket and flips through the pages

"Lawrence B Shoggoth, y/n m/n l/n, I have requested an audience with you two to clear up some issues with Lawrence's recent updated paper work, not to mention a handful of rumours that need to be put to bed" the ghoul flips through the papers "it says here the y/n you are Lawrence's spouse, is that true?"

You nod

"You see y/n, Lawrence here cant be trusted at face value, so that is why I must converse with you on the matter, so you are his fiance correct?"

"Yes"

"I see, now how long have the two of you known each other?"

"About a year or so" you shrug

"Mmmhmm" the ghoul scribbles down something and continues "now when did he propose to you?"

"Last week" this was so anxiety inducing, for a man with no eyeballs it sure felt like he was staring into your soul.

"Now what drawn you to such a, oh how do I put this, such a man?"

You hear beetlejuice huff out as if he was insulted.

"Well, beetlejuice may be rough around the edges, and can be a dick at times, but he's great company, hes funny, witty, has great taste in movies, and he makes me smile, hes also, well, he's also good looking too" you look away from both parties, as you were clearly embarrassed over what you said, it was the truth, but it still made your face burn.

Beetlejuice leans forward, looking in your direction, eyes wide and mouth a gape, his hair now a bright pink.

"Mr Shoggoth, you look surprised at y/n's words" the ghoul grabs Beetlejuice's attention.

"Heh, you see y/n is the shy type, hearing that type a thing is rare and ALWAYS gets my attention". Beetlejuice slicks his hair back removing the pink and resetting it to its default green.

"Mmmmhmmm" was the ghoul's only response as attention was drawn back to you.

"So y/n you truly are betrothed to Lawrance, you want to be wed to him on purpose?" The skeleton's tone was almost surprised, as if beetlejuice was the most revolting creature in existence and you wanting, out of your own free will to be bound to such a thing, was the most insane thing he has ever herd.

You nod, beetlejuice gives the skeleton a smug toothy grin.

"This isnt a joke, nor is he blackmailing or threatening you?" His tone sounded desperate, as if he needed to prove beetlejuice was lying for his own good.

You only shake your head, while beetlejuice surpresses a laugh

"Ya see bone head? I'm innocent~" he chuckles, squeezing you close to his side.

"Y/n you are aware of what you're doing for Lawrence correct?" The skeleton sounded almost smug, you only stare back, waiting for him to elaborate.

"You see y/n, you are doing Lawrence here a huge favor, when the dead marry the living, they are able to walk the earth like you do, you are granting him life, something he has never had, this is why we must confirm with you, that you understand what he's doing" the skeleton gestures to beetlejuice, the demon only rolls his eyes in response.

"I know"

Attention is drawn to you

"I know all about that life giving thing, beetlejuice told me about it"

"Well you see y/n, this isnt the first time Lawrence has-"

"I know, I was told, by him and the person he tried to marry the first time, small world huh"

The skeleton pauses for a moment then coughs into his fist, as if to regain his composure after being surprised, he continues "I see, Lawrence has been honest with you, I didnt think he had it in him"

Beetlejuice snarls at the comment, tips of his hair turning red.

"Just a few more loose ends y/n then you can return to your rest" the skeleton flips through his papers "ah, Lawrence, y/n may have been couched, and since you seem so eager to speak, I do have a few things I need to clarify with you, if the two of you are in love as you say and this isnt a farce, you would know plenty about your future spouse, when was y/n born?" The skeleton snears as if hes caught you two red handed

Beetlejuice snorts out a laugh "easy *birthday day and year* hell I woke them up with some early morning birthday head"

You cover your face in embarrassment at that comment, yet you were surprised he knew the year.

"Correct, and might I saw congratulations on a LEGAL partner this time"

Beetlejuice rolls his eyes at the low blow before grumbling "it was a green card thing"

The skeleton ignores Beetlejuice's comment and continues "what drew you to this breather? And please keep it out of the gutter"

Beetlejuice huffs "spoil sport, y/n here is one of the kindest, sweetest, softest breather I ever met, they let me do whatever I want, they want me around, no stings attached, they got great taste, just look at the company they keep, and let me tell ya, the first time we met they sucker punched me in the jaw for scaring them, and I've been dreaming of that swing ever since"

You just stare at the ghoul, he remembered that? He remembered how he first met you? When lydia locked you in the basement and he jumped out at you, successfully scaring you but earning himself a fist in the jaw, wow. Your face felt hot remembering that, what a frist impression.

The night droned on and on with dull questions the suit had lined up to prove beetlejuice was lying, but every question had an appropriate answer, and the skeleton knew he could not prove anything as the night went on.

Low on patience and time he decided call it quits.

The skeleton pushes his clipboard back into his jacket and sighs "I appreciate your time y/n, thank you for your cooperation, and Lawrence, I look forward form your departure of death, a short vacation from you is the pick me up I deserve" the skeleton raises up from your chair and walks over to a wall on the other side of the room, you watch him draw a door, and knock 3 times, you're livingroom wall opens up to the netherworld. You freeze at the sight, you always felt uneasy seeing the netherworld portal open up, maybe it was a living thing? As if beetlejuice felt your discomfort he pulls you into a side hug, grounding your anxiety, you give a sigh of what feels like relief.

The skeletontirns to face the two of you "Before my departure, y/n I do have one final thing to ask you, can you kiss Lawrence for me?"

"What?" You gawk in confusion

Beetlejuice snorts out a laugh "what? You the type of guy who gets off on watching others get hot and heavy, I mean I feel ya, but if you insist, I can help a guy out" beetlejuice is quick to cup your face "give daddy some sugar~" he purrs puckering up to go in for the kiss.

"Lawrence you misunderstand me, I ask y/n, if you two are truly betrothed, shy or not, y/n shouldnt have any issues kissing their lover" the skeleton gestures to you, without eyeballs or eyebrows he sure wore a smug face, as if he found you two out.

Beej snorts out his nose, great, he's fucked, theres no way you could sell this now, the ghoul had to take the lead and try to steer this away from what this bureaucrat wants "Shy or not, my little sex pot here isnt too keen on others watching, believe me, I tired, the only thing they wont do in the bedroom-"

"Bee, it's fine" you interject, gently grabbing the demons sleeve, he looks at you mouth agape, green slowly blossoming into pink in his face and hair.

"You mind leaning down honey?" You ask softly, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach, yes beetlejuice has kissed you more times then you could remember, and yes, youd be lying if you didnt enjoy them, but taking the lead? That was new, and to have someone watching? Not to mention if you dont make this look good he's gonna take beetlejuice away.

Beetlejuice on the other was practically glowing pink, and vibrating with excitment, not to mention drooling.

You gently cup the demons face, running your thumbs across his stubble, you swore you could hear the demon purring, you take a deep breath through your nose before closing the gap between the two of you.

Beetlejuice's hands find homes for themselves, on in your hair, the other on the center of your back. Your hands move from the demon's face and bury themselves in his messy hair, gently giving his head a scratch, you squeak with surprise as the ghoul lifts you up from the ground, instinct kicks in nd you wrap you legs around his waist, lips still locked with his, you feel his tongue probing at you mouth, begging for your permission to enter, you oblige, his tongue wasnt new to you, you felt it a handful of times, running up the side of your face when the ghoul was trying to get your attention mostly, but in your mouth?

It was long, and big, and kind of cold, it easily took the lead, exploring your mouth.

You push on Beetlejuice's chest to notify him you needed to breath, the two of pull your lips part from each others, a thin line of saliva still connecting the two of you.

"Oh Lawrence" you sigh

The demon now completely electric pink, still holding you up growls before asking "couch?"

You hum out "yes"

Before the ghoul flops backwards on the couch, having you sit on top of him, you give his tie a quick yank and he groans in response.

"Oh doll, you're lucky you dont work tomorrow, cuz I want you to ride me all night~"

"Ahem!"

The two of you freeze for a moment, beetlejuice snickers at your face, clearly embarrassed, you pause for a moment, swallowing your shame before addressing the ghoul who was still here

"You're still here?" Was all you manged to breath out

"I mean I'm into it, but y/n? Not so much, and they clearly arent into you watching so" beetlejuice snorts, trying to wave the skeleton off so the demon could relax.

"I see, y/n you clearly are attracted to him, and understand all the consequences of marrying the dead, I declare that Lawrence B Shoggoth was, in fact, telling the truth, this should be a holiday, such a rare occasion" the skeleton trailed off as he walked into the netherworld, you only watched as he vanished and the walls of your little apartment rearranged themselves like it never happened.

You sat top beetlejuice for a moment, sighing over dodging the bullet of losing your, very dear friend, you may or may not be head over heels for.

You're reminded of where you were sitting with a familiar pinch on your butt.

"Hey honey~" the ghoul purrs

You jerk up at recalling the situation you're in, beetlejuice groans at you movement

"Careful sweets, keep moving like that and you'll turn this semi into a boner" he snorts out a chuckle.

You're quick to get off the demon, though he did grunt in protest, before sitting back up and pulling a couch cushion over his lap, despite how crude he was, he did have SOME common courtesy.

As much fun as it would have been for the demon to tease you on your rather hot actions, he noticed how your attention wasnt on him, rather then you were staring at the wall that was once the door to the netherworld.

"So we did it?" Was all you seemed to whisper

"Yup, I got to hand it to you babes, you did quite a good job fooling that stiff"

You turn back to the demon and give him a soft smile feeling completely relieved.

"You know it's funny y/n, you're a terrible liar, and you sure as hell cant act, you got way too many tells, but yet, I didnt see a single twitch nor did I hear a single stutter, why's that?~" you knew that tone oh too well, it was the 'I know something embarrassing about you' tone, it was smug yet made your legs turn to jelly.

"I guess when it comes down to really important stuff i guess i can-" you stammer while fiddling with the hem of your shirt

"I dont think so dolly" beej was quick to interrupt "babes, you've been wearing my jacket the whole time, I've seen you keep glancing down at the ring, and fuck me, the amount of fire in that kiss, someone like you cant fake that"

You refuse to look his way, this was one hell.of a way to come clean with your feelings, a heavy silence fills the room, though you're pretty sure beetlejuice could hear your heart pounding away.

As if the ghoul could sense your discomfort, he sighs "ya know babes, it's pretty late, and breathers need to sleep, so how bout you head back to bed and I'll finish grilling you in the morning"

Glancing back at beetlejuice you could see the flicks of purple appearing in the pink mess of his hair, you give the ghouls half hearted smile, as you go to take off the jacket he raising his hand motioning you to stop

"Its gonna be cold tonight babes, how bout you keep it warm for me?"

"Oh, alright, night Bee, glad I could help you" you wave off as you head to your bedroom to over think what just happened.

Beetlejuice groans when he hears the familiar sound of your bedroom door closing, he was so close to getting a real confession out of you, but tomorrow morning is gonna be pretty dangerous for you, he sighs removing the pillow from his lap, he had a more pressing matter to attend too, and with your taste on his tongue and the beautiful imagine of you on top of him yanking at his tie, this 'problem' wont take long to deal with.

Bonus

The next morning was quite awkward, beetlejuice wasnt kidding about grilling you in the morning, but at least what felt like an interrogation last night, now felt like childish teasing

"Bee, can I ask you something about last night?"

The ghoul beams with excitement at your question "anything you want babes"

"If we would have failed, what would have happened to you, you said you would have been dragged back to the netherworld and" you pause hoping the ghoul would fill in

"Oh, yeah, if we would have got caught I would have had to spend a week in the netherworld with my mother fixing this paperwork and just being chewed out, a nightmare babes, we dodged a bullet" he raises his hand for a high five as if to congratulate you on helping him out

"What, I'm sorry what"

Beetlejuice lowers his hand and frowns at your response

"Beetlejuice I was worried sick, I thought they were gonna take you away forever, i was terrified if i fuck up I'd never see you again, like what am i supposed to do without you?! I dont want you to leave me" you practically screamed

Beetlejuice only started at you, slowly soaking in what you said

'I dont want you to leave me'

His blank stare slowly shifts to a smile, flicks of pink appearing in his hair "dont worry sugar, you're stuck with me"

#beetlejuice x reader #muscial beetlejuice x reader

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cherrynojutsu · 3 years

Text

Title: Like Gold

Summary: Sasuke grapples with love and intimacy regarding his developing relationship with Sakura after returning to the village from his journey of redemption. Kind of a character study on Sasuke handling an intimate relationship after dealing with PTSD and survivor’s guilt in solitude for so long. Blank period, canon-compliant, Sasuke-centric, lots of fluff and pining, slowly becomes a smut fest with feelings.

Disclaimer: I did not write Naruto. This is a fan-made piece solely created for entertainment purposes.

Rating: M (eventual nsfw-ness)

AO3 Link - FF.net Link - includes ending author's notes

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Chapter 8/?: Grasping

Sasuke awakens abruptly, nausea clawing its way out of his throat like a soup of sepsis that’s been left percolating on a stovetop for too long, finally boiling over and soiling everything.

Stomach churning, he tries to aim it at the floor - he’s gotten better at doing that, over the years - but he doesn’t quite succeed. Hot bile, acidic with mostly digested dinner, coats the side of his bedding and part of his sleeve.

He coughs, gagging on acid and torment and hyperventilation. Then his stomach lurches again, and he turns to retch another round at the floor. Part of it floods his nostrils, stinging, and he rasps more.

That triggers another round, after which he waits a minute, sharp coughs punctuating the stillness, familiar at this point with what his stomach’s settling feels like. He shrugs off his shirt once it does, and makes his way to the kitchen, hacking on a foul aftertaste and vomit-inducing visuals flashing before his eyes.

A glance at the clock tells him it’s half past midnight as he gulps water, snorting in a manner very undignified to clear out his nasal passages and soothe the putrid taste overwhelming his insides. Then he chokes more of it down, feeling the beginnings of a pounding headache.

There are times when having a near photographic memory is not a good thing. He is very tired of recalling crackling electricity, of stumbling over body after body with lifeless eyes. Men, women, children, all with charcoal irises like his.

And teammates, with irises decidedly not like his, luster flattened to single dull colors.

And himself, at the end, deranged and dispiteous, standing where Itachi had stood a long time ago, looming over remains as if he himself is the final obstacle to defeat before it just ends, the culminating villain in some fucked up fable. All at once, he’s a child again, gagging on a demented form of truth, left to stew there for years and years and years, rotting him from the inside out.

He's noxious. He knows he is. He wishes he could spit himself out along with partially digested yakitori.

Sasuke takes another sip of water as his vision blurs, trying desperately to focus on the wood grain of the cabinets and not daring to close his eyes, lest another flash snake its way into his ocularity and undo the mild soothing the water is providing. He coughs again, throat raw. Then his mouth starts watering, a telltale sign that he’s going to throw up again, so he walks carefully to the bathroom, bottle in hand and trying not to jostle his stomach more than is necessary. Switching on the light and flipping up the seat of the toilet, he makes it just in time.

This round it’s mostly just water, and it burns a little less. The murky brown color he’s faced with seems very reflective of what he feels inside, ignominy and wretchedness and self-loathing, no substance at all, just a bitter aftertaste of that which was left behind on a wood floor a lifetime ago. There had been saliva then, too, seeping from his mouth to the floor in his cowardice.

He swallows once, a gargantuan effort. Then he takes another sip of water, studying the text on the label to try to distract himself, vile and unsettled as he is.

He doesn’t deserve Sakura, not after what he’s done. When his vision starts to blur again, he can’t read anymore anyway, so he looks at the mangled mess left of his left arm instead.

He deserves that, a maiming to fit the crime. He wishes he were a better man.

Slowly so as not to further disturb his stomach, he lies down sideways, pressing his cheek to the coolness of the floor. He feels disconnected from everything, at a loss for proper coherent thought, a mess of misery sprawled on a tile too clean for his own rancidness.

Nothing matters for a long time. He just stares into nothingness, a mild burning in his throat and eyes on a void of pure white that he doesn’t belong in, thinking about how it matches the skin tone of bodies that have been drained of all their color. It’s like he’s barely there, nothing seeming real except the hollow feeling in his chest and the buzzing sensation tempering the edge of his consciousness, like his brain has been stuffed with cotton but parts of it are burning away to nothing. Everything of substance singes away in a controlled burn, destined to always have gaping holes of meaning scorched away at random wherever the fire takes hold.

He doesn't know if there ever even was anything in the first place, deep down. Maybe corrosion is a terrible metaphor, because what's left, at the end of it? Layers and layers of useless shale and sandstone and limestone, packed atop Precambrian filth that’s been decaying there for what feels like centuries. Or magma, set to burn anything he touches.

Or electrocute it.

XXX

Suddenly it’s hours later, and a bird is chirping outside, twitters resounding through a metaphysical tunnel of distortion. Gradually it shifts into an audio that doesn’t sound quite as echoed, accentuated by light filtering in through the miniscule bathroom window.

This happens, sometimes, the nightmares and the absconding into abeyance where his brain seems to shut off, a resulting loss of significant chunks of time. Not sleeping, just staring at something dully for a while, stuck on the same cycle of repeating thought. The memorial stone is a trigger for it, he thinks. It’s why he dreaded going there, upon his return, although it's complicated. Occasionally, visiting it seems to bring feelings that are almost positive, where it feels like he’s reaching out to reclaim tiny shattered shards of what used to be his heart. Mostly, though, it’s just mourning. The reading of names may be what compels the worst of them; sometimes he thinks if he looks too long, he’ll learn things he doesn’t want to know.

Exhausted, he drags himself to his feet and begins wryly picking up the pieces, chest hurting from heaving. He throws his bedding and his shirt haphazardly into the washing machine, drowning them in soap before he grabs cleaner to do the same to his floors.

It smells disgusting, like it’s been petrifying in his stomach for years. He supposes that makes sense; a lot of things have.

Once the surface is clean, he gets in the shower, not caring that all of the hot water is being used for the laundry; the icy cold helps wake him up. He’s fatigued, lethargic, but he knows better than to try to go back to sleep at this point.

As he fights shivers in the towel afterwards, he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He looks awful. Pale and sickly, repulsive, purple sallow staining his skin the same color as the Rinnegan. His normal eye is bloodshot, vacant charcoal that pollutes everything it touches. He lets the black of his hair shift over his Rinnegan eye in a manner he's well accustomed to by now.

His remaining eye inches to the corner of the mirror, the front of the medicine cabinet.

He carefully procures a cough drop, and then makes sencha tea, hoping the caffeine will dull his headache. There’s a part of him that still feels like he’s hardly there, like he’s a ghost just going through the motions. When he takes a sip, it feels good on the throat, but the vomiting earlier has partially singed away the surface of his tongue; he hardly tastes it.

Sasuke then takes the photo from when they were Genin to the living room, grasping onto it for dear life in more ways than one. He alternates between studying it and gazing out the glass, to the cherry blossom tree across the street.

An hour passes, slowly, sitting there thinking about what he does and doesn’t deserve, a mess of thoughts swirling down the drain of his mind. Then another. The luminescence of the day begins trickling in more, green buds across the street gaining back their pigment.

He’s not sure if he should even go to Sakura’s still, because he feels like he’s going to make even worse company today than he usually does, as tired as he is. But he’s weak, and he selfishly wants her; there’s an equanimity only she can provide, the swingback of a pendulum briefly through a sense of normalcy, and he needs the chance to look into jade eyes, to see the light hit them, to ascertain that the chatoyancy has not been dulled. And she’s not dead, despite his inner psyche screaming at him that she would be, had Naruto or Kakashi arrived just a second later. He needs to thank them for that, when he gets the chance, though the timing has never felt right to bring it up.

And he loves her. He's not sure if his love is worth anything, contemptible as he is, but it’s the main reason he can make sense out of the absolute mess that is his inner thought process this morning. So he goes.

XXX

It helps. He’s enormously exhausted, and the light of day hurts his eyes, even once he’s inside and is only absorbing its rays from the diamond window, but it helps.

“Sasuke-kun,” she greets in a voice like honey as she opens her door to him, dimple on open display. She really is so lovely, multi-faceted jade sparking with life that nearly instantly calms some of his anxiety.

He is briefly concerned about what he looks like to her, today. He checked prior to coming over here, brushing his teeth thrice in the hopes that his breath wouldn’t be bad, that he could drench his innards in enough clarifying mint to be even remotely deserving of a small amount of her affection. His eye was a little less bloodshot at that point, but overall he still looked like hell, sickly and pallid.

“Sakura,” he murmurs in response, voice hoarse from being put through a ringer of his own making.

There is a prolonged moment in which she examines him, wearing an analytical expression that reminds him of clinician Sakura. Then the spell is broken, as if she’s forcibly turned that part of herself off, and she’s stepping aside and telling him softly, “Come in! I made onigirazu.”

He steps inside her entryway, setting his book on the console table momentarily beside where Hazel Wood lies, ready to be returned. He then shifts out of her way so he can remove his shoes. He’s not particularly hungry, but he’s glad it’s something fairly simple and heavy on the rice; he should be able to eat it fine.

He follows her inside, appreciating the subdued luminosity of her lamps along the way. The blankets are already laid out on the couch, a promise of simple warmth and companionship that he is very much looking forward to.

As his eye adjusts and he enters the kitchen, ready to grab a plate, his gaze locks on remnants of sliced tomatoes atop a cutting board he recognizes, though it’s familiar to him from his own apartment, not hers.

It’s exactly the same design as the one Naruto gifted him.

A fire roars to life in his ribcage as he freezes for a split second, an exhausted icy hot appreciation. It’s an implication that means the world to him, and particularly well timed.

She wants him around, to help prepare future meals.

“I put some sliced tomatoes in yours. I hope it’s okay,” Sakura says as she hands him a plate, not addressing the elephant in the room at all, as if she just needed a new cutting board and happened to pick up that one, though he knows that cannot possibly be the case; he'd seen at least two in her cupboard, before. “Would you like tea, or maybe some water?”

He nods stiffly, vision a bit blurry, then comprehends the second question.

“Water is fine,” he manages thickly.

They sit in front of her window, supple sunshine streaming in. It’s not too bright here, angled just right.

“...How was your morning?” He asks after taking a sip of water, voice still gravelly. He is beyond content to be sitting here, just looking at her, so much better than a picture.

“Good. Ino and I walk or jog in the early morning on Sundays, if it's nice. Hinata comes sometimes; she did today.” She chews a bite of her rice sandwich.

Sasuke blinks; she hasn’t mentioned that yet. Another chunk of her schedule falls into place. “...Where?”

A half smile blooms on her lips, dimple pushed into being. “Sometimes we run laps around the village, but usually there's no real destination; we just walk and visit.” She takes a sip of her own water. “It’s nice when Hinata comes; it tones Ino down a notch.”

He would snort, if he was in a different sort of mood.

“We went to the southeast part of town today,” she continues. “Ino wanted to see a new building they put up. Her mom has a big order of flowers to deliver there later this week.”

Flowers. In the chaos of the night he’s had, lily bulbs fell to the wayside of his mind.

Sasuke carefully takes the first bite of his own food. It’s good, as he expected; a mixture of salmon, tomato, and salted rice, simple enough to hopefully help settle his stomach. He can kind of taste it.

He chews slowly, reverently, alternating between eating and taking small sips of water as she chatters animatedly. “The flower shop's orders are really taking off now. Ino’s usually busiest once May comes. Hopefully things stay peaceful, so she can stay in the village for the most part; her mom can always use the extra help.”

They wash and dry the dishes together, afterwards, a routine that is beginning to feel familiar. She still doesn’t say anything about the cutting board, but Sasuke greatly appreciates the way it feels in his hand when she gives it to him, weighty and with a designated home under her roof. It slides into place easily in the cupboard with the two others.

They read for a while on her couch again, wrapped in their respective blankets; Sakura keeps her apartment fairly cool. It’s cozy in a way that makes his head feel funny, like he could fall asleep in minutes if he really tried, lulled by the soothing scent of berry and cleanliness. He wonders if it would be restful, if he did. Usually once enough time ellipses, well into the next day, his brain cuts him some slack, though it could be that he's just too exhausted from being up most of the night for the neurons to fire up again to such a frenzy.

Sasuke finishes the last chapter of his book sluggishly and contemplates the ending, a lengthy description of the fisherman gripping the solid railings of the dock with both hands as he comes ashore for the first time in months.

When he flicks his gaze to Sakura tiredly, she’s a third of the way through a new book, titled Among the Ruins: Post-War Reflections. It appears to be a memoir; he assumes it must be one she’s purchased, as it doesn’t have the library label. Perhaps it’s new, picked up this morning while she was out, or it could be one from her bookshelves. He would like to peruse the titles she has, sometime. He drowsily wonders which war it’s about.

He takes a careful breath and just revels in it, being here with her, mere feet away with his eyes closed but able to sense her presence, worn out with thoughts that have edges as frayed as he is. He would like to stay for dinner, too. He thinks it’s perhaps becoming implied that they’ll eat together if she doesn’t have other plans, but he doesn’t want to be rude or overstay his welcome.

Sasuke hopes he can stay awake. Maybe he shouldn’t have said no to tea earlier; the additional caffeine might have helped. He could offer to make them both some, he thinks fuzzily, but then he starts wondering if that would be odd or overstepping. It’s her tea, and her kitchen, and her cups.

Then he sleepily remembers the cutting board.

“You can take a nap, you know,” Sakura murmurs kindly, soft words echoing a little in the stillness of her space. “If you’re tired. I don’t mind.”

He blinks his eyes open, vision adjusting as he realizes he nearly dozed off.

She’s smiling from the other end of the couch. “I can make dinner later, and wake you up when it’s ready. You should rest until then.” She pauses, then adds, “I can grab you a better pillow from my room, if you want.”

His brain catches up to his auditory processing, and then his ears warm.

Oh.

The offer is tempting, though he doesn’t want to be rude. If it were any other day, he would force himself to stay awake, to spend more time with her. But it’s not any other day, and he’s drained, enervated in a way that makes him want to give in. He should ask, to make sure it’s okay, but he’s pretty sure she wouldn’t offer if it wasn’t.

“...Here?”

A flush inks its way onto her cheeks as her expression turns thoughtful. “Yes. Or... you can use my bed, if you want.”

Sasuke forces his gaze away from hers, because his face feels extremely warm all of the sudden. “...I meant… here, at your apartment.”

“Oh.” Sakura laughs in a way that sounds nervous; he hears her fiddling with the book in her lap. “I, um… just meant whatever’s most comfortable.”

When he hesitantly looks back to her, she’s red, too.

“...What will you do?”

She gestures with her hand in a waving motion to indicate it's fine. “I can read, or do some laundry or work stuff. It’s no trouble. Really, Sasuke-kun.” Her blush deepens. "...I would like you to stay… And to have dinner later. If you’re free."

He swallows before slowly nodding his acquiesce, and then Sakura is up and heading to her bedroom in a blink of mismatched eyes. Muffled footsteps pad back moments later, a pillow with a lavender pillowcase clutched in her hands.

Her bedding must be a variant of violet, then, a pastel contrast to the black of his own. He is curious about the color of her bedroom walls all over again, but then she’s handing him the pillow, and he’s too tired to continue thinking.

“...Thank you.”

The smile she wears is so soft, treasured. “You’re welcome.”

He’s out within a few minutes of laying his head on the pillow, drowsing eyes barely catching the lamps flickering off one by one as she meanders around her space.

The pillow smells like her, too, cogent in its beckoning. He sleeps like a rock.

XXX

Sakura nudges him awake hours later, leaning forward to rest her upper body against the back of the couch. The scent of miso and roasted tomatoes drifts into his nostrils while lively jade peers down at him. The light coming from her window has dimmed quite a bit. It must be well into the evening; she let him sleep for a while.

“Dinner’s ready,” she murmurs softly, wearing an expression that is incredibly fond.

He stretches slightly as he rises from her sofa, working out a crick in his shoulder and thinking that he feels much more rested. Sasuke is about to head to her kitchen to get his own bowl, until Sakura turns towards the table, and he sees that she's already set out food for both of them, green market light switched on overhead.

There's onigiri, too, and a steaming cup of sencha placed on his side that he's sure is decaffeinated.

His side.

The realization, albeit a good one, disarms him.

He has a side of her table. And a side of her couch.

Sakura recites a story Hinata told her this morning as they eat, about how Naruto initially buried every single flower bulb in their garden beds six inches deep instead of reading the directions, so they had to dig everything up and salvage the instructions on the package from the trash to replant.

“He mixed them all together, too, instead of planting them in sections like a normal person.” She laughs, and his lips turn upwards in shared amusement. “She said she hopes they didn’t miss one. Iris and echinacea can sometimes multiply out of control. She was happy she didn’t add bee balm to the list, too, or they’d really be in trouble; those can grow anywhere, even in gravel.”

The soup and tea feel good on his throat, and the rice is filling in a way that would be difficult to throw up, absorbent of moisture and chunking together to expand in his stomach until he is full, in more ways than one.

He can taste again, the richness of tomato and miso and calming ubiquitous green on his tongue and in his heart, thoughts of flowers and their idiot teammate helping to cast aside his earlier melancholy.

Sasuke loves her so much in that moment that it physically aches, her voice a balm that puts the rawest parts of him at ease.

"Thank you," he says quietly at the conclusion of the meal, grateful in ways he's not sure he'll ever be able to put into words.

Her response is simple, gentle, pure. “You’re welcome.”

As they wash and dry the dishes together in the dim light of her kitchen, Sakura tells him softly, “I put leftovers in containers for you in the fridge. Please take them with you tonight.”

He nods as his eyes sting with appreciation. When he turns to put away the teacups, he blinks to clear them as she wipes down the sink one last time for the evening.

As she sorts through her movie selection afterwards - it’s her turn to pick - he asks, “How is the poison antidote coming?”

Sakura glances at him curiously for a second from where she’s perched on the wood floor, rifling through the lower cabinet. “I think we might have it solved. Blarina toxin from a southern short-tailed shrew, and then possibly lionfish toxin, laced with algal bloom cyanobacteria. The lionfish toxin is part of the trouble; it’s such a trace amount that it was hard to identify, not enough to cause swelling on the exterior body like you’d see if you were stung by one in person. We’re still running tests, but the neutralization seems to be working on the mice so far.” She blanches a little. “Or, rather, the mice we have left. It’s diminished our stocks; shrew venom is particularly deadly to them.”

Sasuke knew it was likely to kill several of them, but not quite to that extent. He’s interested in her work, so he asks, “How many?”

She turns back to sift through her cabinet as she answers, pulling out another movie to examine. “A gland-full of venom is potent enough to kill up to two hundred of them. It’s why it took us longer than usual; we had to give them the absolute tiniest dose in order to not kill them within hours. I guess it makes sense; they’re one of the things they eat in the wild. The dose in the poison sample was high, though, venom from multiple shrews. A single bite usually isn’t enough to do any harm to humans, but when it’s quadrupled in dosage and laced with other things, it’s more severe.”

“...What’s the treatment?”

Sakura rattles off the extremely complex answer as if it’s nothing. “An antihistamine, steroid, botulinum toxin, and an antibiotic. We’re also giving them blood transfusions and flushing out the blood as it comes to the exterior machine, to get rid of the cyanobacteria. Kind of like conventional water treatment… just more complicated. More steps, filtration, and obviously we can’t use chlorine, so it takes longer.”

Sasuke blinks somewhat in awe. She really is so intelligent.

“...That sounds lengthy.”

She shrugs, movie still in hand. “It is. It’s why we’re not one hundred percent sure if we’ve solved it yet; the lionfish venom is still the weak link, and will be until we can see that the other portions of the treatment have worked to isolate it.”

“...I’d like to learn the process.”

A smile plays at her lips and a flush inks its way onto her cheeks. He supposes it was a roundabout sort of compliment; he could have worded it better, but she seems to have understood him anyway. She does about a lot of things, he thinks.

“I can bring home a kit, sometime, and teach you the basics. It could be useful.”

He nods; he would like that.

There is a long pause as Sakura bites her lip before further examining the movie case in her hand.

Then, she asks, a tentative expression on her face and peeking at him to gauge his reaction, “Want to watch a bad one?”

Sasuke wonders if she knows he would watch any movie with her, if it means he gets to be in her company like this, saved from a room with white tiles or dark wood.

“...Sure.”

She wasn't exaggerating; it is truly terrible, riddled with plot holes so nonsensical that it’s almost funny. The acting is bad, too, though perhaps that’s more to blame on the script rather than the actors.

“Even the camera work is awful,” Sakura says at one point, gesturing towards the left side of the screen. “If you look in the background here, there’s an extra that just… walks into the wall.”

He watches, and sure enough, behind the main characters, a girl walks directly into a corner and just stands there.

He snorts, genuinely enthused in a manner he would not have thought possible hours ago. Sakura laughs at the other end of the couch. It’s a sound he could listen to forever, sweet and chiseled into his heart.

They play an extensive round of go afterwards, venturing well into the night with the plinking of small pieces into place. It’s nearly eleven when she finally walks him to her doorway, two containers of tomato miso soup and onigiri in her hands. As he pulls on his shoes, Sakura sets them by his library book on the console table.

“Would you want to read tomorrow afternoon?” She asks as he rises to his full height.

He nods. “...I’ll meet you here.”

Her dimple makes a reappearance. “One fifteen?”

He inclines his head again in agreement, then decides to ask. It’s becoming easier, now that she has said yes so many times.

“Dinner, after?”

Her smile widens. “Of course. I was thinking gyudon. Light on the sugar. You could…” She bites her lip and shifts a bit. “...You could help me cook, if you’d like.”

Something turns over in his belly. “...Okay.”

She glows at him. He swallows once before reaching out to skim her freckle, enjoying the feel of her cheek against the pad of his thumb.

And then her fingers against his fingers, holding him there against her cheek, soft and steady.

Then he leans down, and his lips are on hers, a breath exhaled in unison as her entryway falls away. Her free hand twists around his neck, delicately brushing the fabric and a fraction of his skin in a way that nearly makes him shiver. It’s a long moment of quietus, a finishing stroke to a day that could have gone very differently.

It is also the longest kiss they’ve shared yet, and it is over far too soon.

He’s pulling away to look at her, letting his hand drop away, when she wraps her arms tenderly around him.

He can hardly breathe, taken off guard by the absolute sensation of comfort he’s enveloped in.

She doesn’t say a thing; just hugs him tight, her fingertips spreading across his back and face pressed to his sternum. Berry invades his olfactory senses.

Slowly he lifts his arm to carefully return the hug, swallowing a tender sort of truth, a kind that goes down easy, the evidence and action of her affection. He can feel Sakura’s heartbeat against his chest, a tempo teeming with life.

They stand there together in her entryway for a long time.

XXX

He sleeps wrapped in a clean comforter, and though it’s not for very long, it is dreamless.

He’s eating leftover onigiri when he receives a mission summons, barely past seven in the morning. He finishes his meal and pops a cough drop in his mouth before departing for the Hokage’s office.

It’s a nice day, he thinks as he walks, coming to a decision as he admires vernal greenery lining the streets. The sun is just lifting over the horizon, painting everything pale amber.

“Sasuke,” Kakashi greets as he walks in; he’s the first one there again, apparently. “Good morning.”

“Kakashi.”

Their old sensei smiles at him in the strange all-seeing manner he has. Sasuke notes the presence of a new picture frame present on his desk, replacing the one he’s given him.

He is extremely grateful to have that picture to grip onto in his darker moments. Sasuke considers thanking him then, for Iron, but then Naruto is barreling in noisily.

“Whaizzit?” He yawns raucously, as if he just woke up, sleep still clinging to the corners of his eyes. They are multi-faceted, too, even in their barely aware state, and Sasuke inwardly breathes a sigh of relief, normalcy shifting fully back into place as the door clicks behind his teammate.

Then Naruto registers that Sasuke is present. “Eh? Teme?!” Cerulean scans the room as if he’s searching for something, then he frowns, directing a lengthy glare Kakashi’s way.

“If you've called me here at seven in the fucking morning for anything that isn’t a Team Seven reunion mission, I’m going to lose it.”

Ah. He was looking for Sakura.

“Afraid not,” Kakashi answers cryptically from his desk, and Naruto’s sleepy glare tightens. Then the Hokage smiles, as if something is incredibly amusing. "Guard duty. Kotetsu and Izumo deserve a break. Things are slow this week, and we have the extra numbers.”

The copy ninja skillfully dodges Naruto’s sandal as it flies towards him. “You’ve got to be kidding. You woke me up for this? You could have told me later in the day or something!!”

“Future Hokages don’t receive special treatment, and it’s professional to give more than twenty-four hours notice if possible.”

Naruto grumbles. "All week?"

Kakashi grins. "Tuesday through Friday."

Inwardly, Sasuke twitches.

"I should specify; nine to six, Tuesday through Friday."

Outwardly, Sasuke twitches.

It's not exactly her work schedule for all four days, but it lines up closely enough that it's fairly obvious what Kakashi’s doing.

Naruto barely reacts; just snorts in a way that is caustic, as if he finds the times unsurprising. "Cool. Can I go back to sleep until it’s time to kick teme’s ass now? Hinata-chan and I were cozy."

Sasuke rolls his eyes; when they spar in the mornings, it’s typically between eight and nine. He’ll have around an hour's extra sleep at best, though he supposes he’s not in any position to judge at this point, given his nap on Sakura’s couch yesterday.

Kakashi’s smile widens, mask wrinkling. "Sure. Dismissed."

They both watch on in faint amusement as Naruto stumbles sleepily out of his office, neglecting to collect his missing shoe.

“...Some things never change,” the Hokage murmurs, sighing.

“...No, they don’t.”

“Well, anyways, before you go…” Kakashi turns to him, tapping the pen at his desk absentmindedly. “How are things?”

Sasuke blinks, recalling leftovers and a new cutting board and the feeling of Sakura’s arms around him.

And kissing. Mostly kissing. Probably too much, if his neck’s sudden warmth is anything to go by.

“Good.”

A lone visible eye crinkles at the corners. “Great. Don’t hesitate to let any of us know if you need anything.”

He lets the words hang in the air for an extended few seconds before nodding slowly.

"I was thinking…” Kakashi continues, gaze flicking down to the photograph on his desk. “...Perhaps we could make Team Seven dinners a monthly thing. It would be good, don’t you think?"

“...Yeah.”

A dark eye locks on him again. "Sai could come, too."

Ah.

"...Sure." He really should make an effort to get to know him better. His replacement seems nice enough, peculiar as he is.

"Wonderful. Let's plan on the first Saturday of every month at six, shall we? If we're all in the village, that is. I’ll let him know when I call him in later this morning."

“Okay.”

A long moment passes, then Kakashi is procuring the shoe from the area behind his desk. Sasuke notes that he holds it as far away from him as his arm will allow.

“...I don’t suppose you’d return this, when you see him later?”

Sasuke says nothing.

“...Though I suppose I could assign it as a mission to some Genin.” Then he's sighing, setting it on the farthest edge of Naruto’s work area. “Too bad I just gave an assignment to my last two.”

Shooting him a withering look, Sasuke departs the Hokage’s Office. He gets the distinct feeling as he goes that Kakashi is incredibly pleased with himself, solidified by what he calls after him.

“Tell Sakura I say hi.”

Guard duty is easy in theory, but spending thirty six hours with the dobe may be… a challenge. He supposes if the reward is being able to see Sakura after she works most of those days, he'll take it. He's sure Kakashi won't keep him in the village forever; eventually duty will call him away for extended periods of time.

It solidifies his decision; he should take the opportunity of being here to plant something.

He stops by the market vendor on the northern end to buy two packages of lily bulbs on his way home. The market is fairly slow, so there are few other people around.

The packages feel good in his hand, lighter than he expected.

Sasuke works through a section of one of his other books before Naruto shows up on his doorstep, still appearing for all intents and purposes half asleep. Their spar ends in another draw; luckily there are no cracked bones this time.

He eats more leftovers for lunch after, appreciating the taste.

XXX

Sasuke feels at home in Sakura’s kitchen, cutting scallions easily while she broils beef and prepares the egg mixture for gyudon just a few steps away. The meal comes together quickly between the two of them, savory with a sauce that is heavier on the mirin and sake than the sugar.

Food they prepare together somehow tastes even better. It’s late when they finally sit down to eat dinner, gazing out through glass at the streets below as they take their first bites.

The sauce is perfect; not too sweet.

“...I have guard duty this week,” he mentions after a while.

“With who?” She asks, though her lips twitch upwards.

He rolls his eyes. “...Guess.”

She bites her lip, and he tears his gaze away from her mouth and up to her eyes. The green is filled with mirth, twinkling with illuminated flecks.

“Good luck,” she says sincerely. “What times?”

He glances away, ears warming and wondering if Kakashi has mentioned anything to her about them being… together.

“Tomorrow through Friday, nine to six.”

There is a long pause. When he peeks back at her, she’s blushing.

“...Kakashi-sensei is nosy.” Sakura takes another bite of her food, looking shy for some reason, and suddenly Sasuke is certain that their sensei has said something to her, perhaps on multiple occasions. He wonders what.

“...He is.” He thinks, then adds as an afterthought, “...He says hi.”

They do the dishes together and play two rounds of chess. Sakura wins once, and the second round is another stalemate, though he suspects he was close to beating her.

It’s close to nine by the time they’re putting the board away. As he works on packing up the last of the pieces to store in their allocated compartment, he notices she’s gazing out the window, scanning the sky as if distracted.

The way she’s angled puts the freckle on her cheek in plain view, pale hair loosely tucked behind her ear.

Then she turns to him, pink flooding her complexion, and Sasuke realizes he’s been staring, the remaining few pieces still clutched in his hand, frozen in midair in his distraction. He hastily finishes putting them away as his own face warms. Sakura rises from the table to put the box away, footsteps echoing softly through her living space.

He looks outside quizzically for a moment, embarrassedly trying to will the color away from his face and wondering what she was looking at. It’s a clear evening, calm without a cloud in sight.

"I was wondering if…"

His vision snaps to her expectantly across the room, and her cheeks flush darker; he can see it even though it’s dimly lit, shifting from one foot to the other. She seems nervous.

"If you would maybe want to… go stargazing for a bit tonight?"

His pulse quickens, pushing at the seams of chambers and ventricles in a way that makes it feel like the vines have twisted their way in, taking hold of whatever they can clutch.

She apparently does still like that sort of thing.

And she wants to go with him.

He nods immediately, struck speechless with elation before he manages to form the question, "...Where?"

Her expression is one of relief. "I was thinking just outside the village. There’s…” She looks away, smiles. “There’s a place Ino and I go to sometimes; we went today for a bit, after training. There are wild lilacs blooming right now.” She shifts her gaze to him again. “It's supposed to be a little cooler, but the sky’s clear. We could bring tea in a thermos; I have two."

Heat creeps up his neck as he agrees, heart stammering in his chest a little, because he’s started thinking about it now, and stargazing together is very clearly romantic in nature, amongst flowers even more so.

Sakura brews tea for the both of them as he distracts himself by slicing a lemon for hers. When he glances at her surreptitiously, she’s still blushing, and jade eyes snap away as if this time she’s the one that’s been caught staring. That makes his heart pound, to the extent that he’s glad she’s a few feet away, because it’s so loud that she might hear it.

They meander to the edge of the village as evenfall settles, into the forested area just beyond the gates. As Sasuke trails behind her, divagating through subtly flattened pathways between the trees, his thoughts wander to bygone seasons.

There once was a pond, three quarters of a mile outside of the village, beyond where the Uchiha District used to be. It wasn’t officially a part of their grounds, but it was remote enough that it wasn’t easily happened upon by anyone other than their family, off the beaten path and through thicket and thistle as it was.

Itachi used to take him fishing there.

He thinks they’d gone four or five times in all, but he remembers it well, because he had been terrible at fishing, not a shred of patience. His brother caught most of them, but he would sometimes set the hook before passing off the reel to Sasuke to help him learn. It was quiet, peaceful in the way that only the wilderness is, away from the pressures of expectations. Wildflowers poked up everywhere in the later summer months, situated on a hill towards the far side of the pond. They picked some together for their mother, once; Sasuke clutched them in his hands while they made the trek back to the village, Itachi carrying their bucket of perch and bass.

It was nice in the autumn, too, warm tones flooding everything. One could sit in the swaying overgrowth flush with falling leaves for hours taking it all in and still not see it all, an overwhelmingly pure sense of peace, made heartier by the taste of freshly grilled fish later in the evening.

The walk had seemed like it took forever back then, on short legs looking upward. He’s never returned to that place, not once, since he was eight. It would hurt too much, for different reasons now than when he was twelve.

He remembers passing wild lilacs then, too, on the way there and back. He supposes they probably thrive in the chaparral throughout Fire Country, if one cares to traipse through the foliage to look for them. He stumbled upon many on his journey, just passing through on roads less traveled.

The small clearing Sakura leads them to reminds him of the pond a little, wild and flush with fading hues, framed by fragrant lilacs in bloom as she said, but there are no memories tied to it yet, so it’s better. Huge bushes of them grow unaided here, wispy purple redolence scattered by the wind into the earth's cracks, ushered in by whispers through the trees.

The wilds are not so far from Konoha, really. Like the cherry blossom tree on the hill, it's a good reminder that some things can grow easily even on rougher terrain.

Sasuke sits rather close to her, so they can drink their tea together. The sun slips just below the horizon, a cloudless sky awash in a shifting gradient. He catches jade as he takes a drink, appreciating the taste, a small bit of warmth on a cool night.

The way she’s looking at him makes his heart rate accelerate again, a serene expression that implies there is nothing she would rather be doing right now than be here.

With him.

Eventually stars begin inking into existence overhead one by one, the last bit of sun lingering just on the horizon, a muted blur of violet bleeding into black. Things are slightly clearer here, beyond the boundaries of the village, no glass or light pollution to obscure the retinas.

Once she finishes her tea, Sakura lies down the same way she does on the hill, so he does, too, trying to calm his heart rate, because he is very close to her, just within reach. The forest breathes around them, coating everything in a lilac perfume.

He used to think about her, when he looked to the stars, feeling worlds away and wondering if she thought of him that day. Being next to her is better, revered, the calm din of an evening he has craved for a long time.

When he turns to steal a look, her eyes are already on him, and there is something about that moment, as the last light fades, being here with her, that makes his chest go aflame.

And then Sakura turns slightly, reaching out towards him with her right hand, and he blinks.

She sweeps his hair away from his Rinnegan eye, a thumb gently skimming his cheek as he has hers, before her hand falls away. Though they are cloaked in the gloaming of dusk’s darkness, enough he hopes to hide the warmth that has crept into his face, there is adequate light left to see her expression, so tender, jade eyes desaturated to dark sage.

He feels seen in a way that he hasn’t felt before, recalling soft words in an exam room.

Not me.

The sky is fully lit in short order, beautiful and dark with only a tiny sliver of the moon visible. It is truly lovely, Ursa Major, Leo, and Hydra scattered before them like a painting a million years old, ageless messengers traveling from who knows where, as he did. It took many steps to get here to her, scattered revolutions passing wide arcs around the sun, yearning for a day to close the gap, to feel like he was close to ready.

It was worth every single one.

A question is on the tip of his tongue, so he decides to ask it, to give in to the impulse.

“...Any poems?” He wants to learn the words she likes, what kinds of meaning she applies to things, intelligent as she is. Sasuke imagines the inner workings of Sakura’s mind to be quite complex, teeming with all of the things she’s read, research and fiction and nonfiction. He would like to know her favorite pieces of poetry, what she holds dear in her own heart.

She shifts slightly; he thinks she must be looking at him for a split second.

There is a lengthy silence punctuated by crickets before she finally answers, “A short one,” voice hushed like the breeze around them; if he wasn’t so close to her, he wouldn’t be able to hear.

He shifts his gaze to her on his right, barely able to make out her silhouette in the dark.

“Take notice of what light does - to everything.”

The words sink into him like rain on freshly tilled soil, triggering a bricolage of recollections. Instantly he is reminded of light through the window of his bathroom, stirring him from a pit of self doubt and guilt. Then light through the windows of Sakura’s apartment, cooking and doing the dishes together in her kitchen. A nap, comfortable on her couch as day fades into dusk, lamps switched off for a period of much needed rest. Flowers, grown by a doorstep with the sun’s rays seeping in through diamond patterning. The shadow of a jasmine plant, inked onto her cheekbone, and neon lights reflectant atop pale pink hair.

The intricate stitching of an uchiwa fan, thread catching iridescence as she holds it daintily in her hands as if it is something important, to be cherished.

Her eyes when she is happy, hints of gold flecks, catching like fractals of color atop shifting seafoam.

The way white nerine lilies looked drenched in sunlight, on days that are decidedly not summer monsoons.

Stars are a form of light, too, and despite being far away, they are refulgent in their luminosity, a beauty that cuts through murk and offers much for contemplation; the gaps of darkness between them are what allows people to make meaning out of them, constellations strewn together.

He is home, surrounded by spring. It is something to behold.

“...Did you write letters to Naruto?” Sakura asks after a lengthy period of reflection, so softly that her voice is almost a whisper.

The concept is so ridiculous to him that he would snort, if not for the moment they are sharing right now and the way she asked it, no hint of a joke in her tone.

So he answers seriously, just as quietly. “No.”

There is a long pause.

“...And Kakashi-sensei?”

Ah. He understands what she’s really asking. “...Other than missions, no.”

It’s hard to tell, but he thinks he sees her fingers grip in the grass next to her, gently as if in reflex.

Sasuke tries very hard to swallow his doubts.

When they were on missions as Genin, she used to lay sprawled out like this, hands spread next to her. So did Naruto. It bothered him then, because he liked his folded together on his stomach and he was very particular about personal space, which they both invaded.

Sasuke doesn’t have another hand to fold his with anymore, though, and he’s less concerned about personal space with her than he used to be. The darkness helps bolster his confidence, too, nyctophile that he is; she won’t see the heat that’s spreading to his face here, lit merely by distant flickering stars.

Take notice of what light does - to everything.

The luminaries above them offer only a little of it, yet it's a transfixing sight, something of the epochal and the divine present that he has been drawn to for years.

So he reaches out to skim her hand with his, a tentative sort of constellation in itself, recorded in points of contact and palm prints on the skin rather than etched in alembic light in the sky.

There are soft fingertips, a knuckle gently gliding by. Then she’s interlacing her fingers with his, and suddenly it’s not tentative at all. It’s leal, steady, her small hand in his as if it has always belonged there, the scent of flourishing blooms wafting around them and painting everything in his head lilac starlight.

Her thumb brushes his skin once, twice, thrice, achingly gentle.

He should have reached out sooner, but he supposes they’re young, still. There is a lot of time ahead of them. The stars will align eventually, slow in their revolutions around common centers of mass as he is in letting people in. She accepted his apology for being late already, fine fingertips clutching an uchiwa fan with a touch just as gentle as now.

If he can only hold her hand in the dark, maybe that’s enough for now, a single star he can reach. He hopes he'll reach the others eventually.

Hours pass with her hand in his, and he is a small bit closer in revolution by the time he walks her home.

Lilac and raspberry and starlight coalesce against his lips when they collide with hers, an allegorical perfume he could easily get drunk on. He skims the freckle again, tenderly osculant, and realizes that is the start of a constellation, too, a novitious star burning brighter every time he reaches out. Kissing makes three.

Her hands around his neck make four. This time he does shiver, but he doesn’t pull away.

Sakura’s lips are so soft.

XXX

He plants the lily bulbs shortly after they say good night, under the cover of the caliginous dark that shepherds in the dew of the morning, tiny drops of moisture beginning to collect on nearby blades of grass. The stars are still out, bright enough to be beautiful but dim enough so that he can’t read the names.

Sakura would help him if he asked, he knows, but he doesn’t think he’s quite ready for that yet. He settles for trying to make his touch as gentle yet sure as hers, an elegy of calloused fingers digging carefully through the dirt, grasping and placing lily bulbs one by one. There are four bulbs in total, so he plants two on each side, nine inches apart, allowing them to poke up through the soil slightly and frame the stone; he reread the instructions when he stopped by his apartment earlier. It’s a different brand of corrosion, manually digging up layers of dirt rather than hoping they slough off, but it’s progress, and it doesn't require digging too deep.

There has to be something beneath the layers of sediment, he thinks, to feel the way he does about her. He hopes that what he feels is enough, that his slow revolutions will be worthwhile for her, in the end.

I’m sure it will be lovely, when everything finally comes together.

Being in Konoha is not easy, after everything, but being with Sakura is.

When he’s lying in his own bed a short time later, he recalls the love in her fingertips against his. It lulls him to sleep.

#naruto #sasusaku #ssfanfiction #cherry writes #like gold #fanfiction #sorry for the wait it's homecoming week and i'm a yearbook adviser lolololol

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babyjamiebarnes · 3 years

Text

Build-A-Bear

Part Three

Featuring: Bucky x Stark!reader, dad!Tony, Pepper, Rhodey, Happy, Morgan, various characters in other chapters

Warnings: language, sexual innuendos and implications

Chapter Summary: Reader has dinner with her family and gets grilled even harder than her food. But she’s turned to a light simmer when Bucky takes her out for their first date.

Author’s Note: This chapter is fucking monstrous lol. I did not expect it to be this long so it might be a couple extra days before the next chapter so I can catch up! I’m also not sure if my Italian is accurate so I apologize in advance. I used to work for a man named Gennaro from Naples and he called me “bella” so hopefully I’m sort of right? If you like the story so far, feel free to buy me a coffee!

Part One • Part Two

Tags: @kennedywxlsh

Dinner that night was tense, to say the least. It was nice to have your dad, step-mom, sister, and uncles Happy and Rhodey over again, but your dad wasn’t quick to forget what he saw earlier.

“What was that with Barnes today?” Tony asked as you all sat around the dining room table in your midtown flat, poking away at the remnants of your meals.

“What do you mean?” you asked innocently.

Your dad just gave you an incredulous look. “You know what I mean.”

You sighed and avoided meeting his eyes. “I was just working on his arm, dad. I didn’t wanna make him lie down on a hard lab table while I poked around to do what you wanted and quiet his arm,” you explained.

“Wait, Barnes as in Bucky Barnes?” Uncle Rhodey clarified.

“Yeah,” your dad confirmed, not taking his eyes off of you. “I found her kneeling between his legs while he sat shirtless on the couch.”

“You’re sleeping with Bucky?!” Rhodey asked.

“I’m not sleeping with anyone!” you defended, dropping your fork onto your plate. “I’ve known him for a month.”

“That’s never stopped your father,” Pepper mumbled under her breath, making you huff out a laugh despite your current grilling.

“Listen, when I said ‘no fraternizing with coworkers,’ I meant it,” your dad said.

“Please stop saying ‘fraternizing.’ It’s weird.”

Tony sighed and crossed his arms. “No ‘slumber parties’ with coworkers,” he rephrased.

This made Morgan perk up in her seat, having spent the past couple minutes confusedly watching you and your dad bicker.

“Can we have a slumber party, [Y/N]?” she asked.

“Yes, honey, we can have a slumber party,” you responded.

“Tonight?” she continued.

At this, you pointedly looked at your dad and raised your eyebrows as a way of saying ‘are we done now?’ You could tell he didn’t want to end the conversation, but you were grateful for the sudden change of topic. Tony uncrossed his arms and leaned against the table as he replied to your sister.

“If your big sister says it’s okay, you can have a slumber party tonight.”

Morgan lit up like the Fourth of July, quickly listing off all the movies she wanted to watch even though you knew she’d fall asleep halfway through the first movie.

As your family packed up to leave, leaving Morgan since she had a drawer of clothes for the impromptu sleepovers you’ve had before, you calmed your racing heart before saying the words that would either make your father more suspicious or completely quash his suspicions.

“You’ll have to pick her up by four tomorrow. I have a date.”

All of the adults turned to face you. Pepper had a huge smile on her face, clearly excited for you, but your dad and Rhodey looked ready to fight. Happy looked curious, maybe even worried, but he played a big role in raising you so while Tony was the overprotective parent, Happy was the comforting parent (not that he’d ever let anyone know that).

“A date?” The tone of your dad’s voice made you roll your eyes at him.

“I’m a grown woman. I’m allowed to go on dates.”

Your dad let out a quiet harumph at that, but understood where you were coming from. “I know, sweetheart. Forgive me for being a bit overprotective of my little girl.”

“I get it. I appreciate your concern,” you said with a smile, “but this is good for me. You want grandkids eventually, right?”

“Oh god,” your dad groaned, pressing a hand to his chest. “I’m not old enough to be a grandpa but I’m old enough to have a heart attack at the mention of it.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re so dramatic.”

“So what’s this person’s name?” Pepper piped up. You visibly tensed and internally panicked. You couldn’t just admit it was Bucky after denying anything there. But his name was technically pretty common...

“His name is James.”

Rhodey snapped his fingers and pointed at you as he said, “I like him already.”

‘Yeah, sure you do,’ you thought. The sight of your dad narrowing his eyes at you and crossing his arms as he stood in the entryway of your apartment made you nervous. Maybe James wasn’t good enough to get him off your trail (probably because he was right).

“How did you meet this guy?” Tony asked.

If anyone else had asked, you would’ve said ‘work,’ but that’s the last place you could say to your dad — with whom you worked.

“Uhh, at the grocery store. We accidentally followed each other and got a lot of the same food so he jokingly accused me of stalking him and we just hit it off,” you rattled off. It’s a good thing he didn’t know how your friend Monique met her girlfriend or he’d know you were lying.

“That’s so cute,” Pepper cooed. She was definitely the more relaxed of your parents, possibly because she wasn’t your biological mom. She had been raising you since you were ten though, so she played a big part in your upbringing.

“Text me his last name so I can run a background check,” your dad said. You’d love to think he was joking, but you knew he was serious.

And as much as you knew you’d regret it, you had to make a joke…

“His last name is Barnes,” you said, keeping your face as serious as possible. “James Barnes. I actually know his middle name too: Buchanan.”

“[Y/N] [Y/M/N] [Y/L/N], you better be joking right now,” Tony said. He was already getting red in the face, clearly unenthused at the prospect of you dating the man who, admittedly, killed his parents — your grandparents. Yeah, understandable.

“I’m obviously kidding,” you said, forcing a laugh. “It’s just funny that they have the same first name and you’re so anti-Bucky.”

“You’re gonna send me to an early grave,” he muttered. “I’m going home before I actually have a heart attack.”

You said your goodbyes and ‘I love you’s before you and Morgan put on your pajamas and set up a pillow fort in the middle of your living room to watch her favorite sleepover movie: “Shrek.”

As the movie went on, you leaned back in the fort to take a photo of Morgan with the movie in the background. Well, the back of Morgan’s head as she was engrossed in the movie she’d seen a million times.

[Image attached] She’s got her teddy bear but where’s my Bucky Bear? 🥺

Across the city, Bucky’s phone buzzed from its spot on the kitchen counter as he made himself a late dinner. He didn’t recognize the number, but smiled when he saw the picture of who he assumed was your sister or niece.

I never got an invite. Looks like more fun than my night.

You smiled to yourself when you saw his reply, rolling your eyes at the lack of exclamation points and emojis. Typical man.

What does your night look like?

Eating a late dinner and talking to you.

Talking to me isn’t fun?! I’m hurt 😢

Not as fun as actually being with you.

Even though he wasn’t there and didn’t say it verbally, you could feel your cheeks get hot at his words.

There’s no way sweet talk like that didn’t get you in more than four beds.

You’re still on that? I swear doll, I have the same number as you.

Whatever you say! 🙄

There was a lull in conversation after that, giving you time to move your sister to lie on her back with pillows and blankets in the fort so she could sleep more comfortably.

Are we still going out tomorrow?

You let the next Shrek movie start automatically, but you didn’t pay any attention as you texted Bucky.

I’m still down if you are 👀

You sent him your address and let him know you’d wait on the front steps for him so he didn’t have to come all the way up. With the exchange of ‘good night’ messages, you drifted asleep to the sounds of Shrek 2.

•

The next morning, you somehow managed to wake up before your sister, then brought her back to the land of the living with the smell of French toast.

You spent your day watching another movie with Morgan before fixing lunch and taking her to a park down the road. Morgan’s childhood was definitely different from yours. Happy was the one who took you to parks and shopping, but Tony parented at home. Morgan would have the same early experiences, but the world knew Tony and Pepper had a daughter. They kept her identity hidden for now, waiting until she could decide if she wanted to reveal herself later in life. The world never knew about you.

And you had to be somewhat grateful for that. You still got all the perks of being a Stark — the money, the Tower, meeting the Avengers (and having James Rhodes as your godfather) — without the stress of fame. But part of you still wished you could talk about your father without keeping his occupation vague and referring to him as “Anthony” when telling stories instead of Tony.

Morgan also got to know her mom. You only spent the first seven years of your life with your mom before she was killed in a drive-by shooting. The police investigated it like crazy because everyone thought since it was Tony Stark’s wife, it had to be a targeted hit. But since she never took the same jogging route twice, all they came up with was an unplanned drive-by. You cherished the memories you had with her, but still openly welcomed Pepper when she came into the picture. She may not have played the same type of role in your life, but she helped shape your middle and high school years.

By the time you and Morgan got back to your place, she was exhausted, climbing back into the still-intact blanket fort to take a nap. When your dad and Pepper stopped by to pick her up, she was still knocked out.

“We’ll get out of your hair so you can get ready for your date,” your dad said with Morgan in his arms. “Send me this James guy’s last name. I still want to run a background check.”

“Dad,” you grumbled. “I already did my research. He’s clear.” Kind of. He technically has murdered hundreds of people, including your grandparents, but he’s reformed and fighting for the good guys now. Not that your dad would let it slide if you told him that.

“That’s my girl,” he grinned. “Let me know if you need to hide any bodies, okay?”

“You got it,” you said with a laugh as they headed out. You had two hours to get ready for Bucky, giving you plenty of time to look extra cute.

By the time six rolled around, you were all dolled up and ready to go. The autumn weather had you in a jacket and boots, but that just pulled your outfit together.

Your doorman Matt was standing inside the lobby when you ran downstairs, tossing him a small wave as you left.

“Have a good night, Miss [Y/L/N],” he said with a nod.

“See you later, Matt!”

You stood at the bottom of your building’s front steps, checking your phone and looking up and down the block for Bucky. It was six on the dot, so you figured he’d be there soon.

“Hey!” You looked up from your phone to see Bucky jogging toward you, a black leather jacket covering his arms and a black glove hiding his left hand. “Sorry I’m late. I couldn’t get away from Sam. Had to tell him I was gonna check out my old stomping grounds in Brooklyn.”

“You’re, like, 30 seconds late. I’m just glad you’re here,” you said with a smile. “So what are we doing tonight?”

Bucky’s smile faltered as he looked down at you. Your boots gave you a bit of a height bump, but Bucky still stood taller than you.

“I, uh, I kinda thought you had something planned,” he said softly.

“Oh, oops,” you laughed. “Well… what about those Brooklyn stomping grounds of yours? Care to show me around?”

Bucky lit up at the recommendation and started leading the way to the nearest subway stop. Before you started down the stairs, he paused and turned to you with a sour expression.

“I probably should’ve asked if you’d rather get a cab,” he said.

“Bucky, I take the subway to work every day. It’s fine.”

“Why do you take the train? You don’t live too far away.” You two made your way down the steps to the bustling station.

“It’s just easier. Less work for me,” you explained. “I didn’t take the train much as a kid so I like taking the opportunity now that I can.”

“Most people don’t willingly take the subway,” he laughed. “Steve and I always used to talk about how we’d be rich enough to have a car someday. But now that I could get any car I wanted, I don’t think I want one. I like the subway.”

“Even though it’s smelly and dirty?” you joked.

“Yeah,” he laughed. “It’s one of the things that still reminds me of home.”

The gentleness in his voice nearly brought you to tears. This man had been through so much and was still the sweetest soul you’d ever met. Forced into a war he didn’t want to join, experimented on, tortured and brainwashed, hunted by every government in the world, captured, frozen, and forced into another war and more battles he shouldn’t have to join. He just couldn’t catch a break.

“Well I’m excited to see what else reminds you of home,” you replied.

The trains to and through Brooklyn were relatively busy so you and Bucky couldn’t really talk much, but it was a Saturday night so you couldn’t blame people for getting out. It was tough to find seats, but Bucky was willing to stand to make sure you could have a seat. Ever the gentleman.

When you made it to Bucky’s Brooklyn stop of choice, he started telling you more stories from the ‘40s, like when Steve couldn’t get off the train in time and accidentally went down another stop so Bucky ran to the next stop and found Steve heading his way anyway. And how he and Steve followed his sister Rebecca on a date “to watch out for her,” he said, and her date thought they were stalking her and tried to beat them up. And all the fights he pulled Steve out of.

“Punk was a chihuahua who thought he was a Rottweiler.”

For a while, you two walked around the streets of Brooklyn just telling each other stories. You were careful about names you used, often just calling Happy “Uncle Harry” and Rhodey “Uncle James.”

Bucky showed you the movie theater he and Steve used to go to, which was surprisingly still in business. You walked past what used to be a diner Bucky frequented but was converted into a bridal shop.

“This used to be a magic store Steve loved,” he said, looking up at the bank on the corner of the street. “Things have changed a lot.”

You heard the nostalgia in his voice, clearly missing the New York he grew up to love. He had a soft smile on his lips as he reminisced, though.

“What about where you lived?” you asked. “Do you remember where that is?”

“Oh yeah,” he chuckled. “I could never forget that.”

Everything was within a fifteen minute walk of where you got off the subway so even though your feet were getting tired, you followed alongside Bucky as he led the way up and down the streets. Before too long, you strode up to a large brick building that had clearly been remodeled recently, if the fresh windows and front doors were any indication.

“It’s… a lot nicer than when I lived here,” Bucky said with a sigh. “But it’s been nearly 100 years so I can’t blame them for updating things.”

“Brooklyn is kind of booming now, too,” you added. “More people to appeal to, ya know?”

You stared up at him again, seeing that same lost look as before, like he wished to turn back time and show you the Brooklyn he knew. So you decided since he couldn’t do that, you’d show him the Brooklyn you knew.

“Come here. My turn to show you around,” you said, holding your hand out to him. He gave you a small smile before grabbing your hand in his and letting you pull him back to the subway.

Ten minutes later, you hopped off the train with Bucky in tow and headed to the little Italian restaurant you found while exploring the city a couple years before. It wasn’t anything elaborate; it was honestly more of a little hole-in-the-wall, but you liked the quiet atmosphere.

“Bella!” the owner shouted as you walked in.

“Hey Genny,” you smiled at him.

“Who’s this?” he asked as he approached you, raising his eyebrows when he saw Bucky.

“This is James,” you said. You opted against using his more common nickname to avoid any recognition.

“James, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Gennaro, but you can call me Genny. Welcome to my restaurant.” The two men shook hands before Genny ushered you two to a table and handed you menus. “Would you like to start with focaccia?”

“Yes please!”

“Con formaggi?”

“Si! Grazie!”

Gennaro left you and Bucky while he started your appetizer.

“You speak Italian?” Bucky asked.

“Definitely not,” you laughed. “I’ve just been coming here for a while and have picked up on some things Genny says. Like ‘bella’ means ‘beautiful,’ this pizza,” you pointed to your favorite pizza on the menu, “‘cinque formaggi’ means ‘five cheese.’ But I could never hold a conversation.”

“Un peccato,” Bucky sighed before flashing a smile at you.

“You speak Italian?!” you nearly shrieked. “No way! Don’t talk shit with Gennaro behind my back.” You pouted at Bucky, but knew he wouldn’t say anything bad about you. Maybe an embarrassing moment or two — like your dad walking in on you between his knees — but nothing negative.

“I picked it up pretty quickly back in the day,” Bucky explained. “Before I was sent to Germany, I was stationed in a small town in Italy for a while. The locals didn’t mind having us there because we kept the Nazis out, so they taught us some Italian when we were in town.”

“Maybe I should take Gennaro up on his offer to learn Italian,” you mused.

“Or you could learn from me,” Bucky was quick to offer. “I’ll teach you some stuff when you’re working on my arm.”

Your server arrived with the focaccia and water for both of you, before giving you more time to actually look at the menus instead of talking. You decided to split a bottle of red wine and two pizzas, one of your choice and one of Bucky’s. As the night went on, you and Bucky both opened up to each other even more than before. You could easily blame the buzz from a couple glasses of wine, but Bucky’s super soldier serum made you confused. His cheeks were flushed and he had more than half the bottle, so you wondered if maybe...

“Can you still get drunk?”

“Unlike Steve, yes. It takes more than this,” he said, lifting the nearly empty bottle of wine, “but since Steve and I received different serums, they work a little differently. I can definitely get drunk. Marijuana admittedly hits harder.”

You paused as you stared back at him, his elbows perched on the table and his clasped hands propped under his chin.

“Are you drunk now?”

“No,” he laughed quietly. “A little tipsy, sure, but not drunk by a long shot.”

You narrowed your eyes at him playfully, reluctantly accepting that he was just as buzzed as you but not quite drunk.

Before long, your server brought over your tab and you realized how empty the restaurant had gotten. Then you noticed the broom and mop the server had brought out to the floor, then the dark ‘open’ sign, and finally the clock on the wall.

“You closed 20 minutes ago and didn’t kick us out?” you shouted at Gennaro. “Genny, you can always kick me out! I feel bad!”

Gennaro walked over to your table as you scrambled for your wallet and handed the server your card to run.

“I can’t kick you out, bella. You and your moroso are welcome any time.”

“I think this poor girl would beg to differ,” you said as the server handed your card and signature slip back. She just laughed at your comment, agreeing without saying it outright.

You left a hefty tip and hugged Genny before you and Bucky, both still a bit tipsy, shuffled outside.

“Thanks for buying dinner,” Bucky said. “This means I get to pay next time, though.”

He said it so casually and you already planned on another date, but it still kind of caught you off guard.

“Next time?” You smiled up at him and took a step closer until you were almost toe-to-toe. “There’s gonna be a ‘next time’?”

“I sure hope there is,” he said quietly, his smirk sending a rush up your spine.

“If you insist,” you sighed. He knew better than to believe you weren’t excited for your future plans. “I’m cold. Care to get an Uber with me?”

He gently grabbed your shoulders and spun you around, pulling the loose opening of his jacket over your arms and wrapping his arms around you to help keep you warm.

“Well, yeah. I need to make sure you get home safe so ‘next time’ can happen,” Bucky said as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck.

“You know, I don’t usually let men spoon me on the first date,” you joked as you tapped away to order an Uber.

“I can stop, if you want,” he teased.

You gripped his arm as he started to pull away. “I never said that.”

Bucky rode back to your place with you, keeping conversation casual as you both avoided the controversy you were about to face: to kiss on the first date or not. You never really had any issues with it before, but you already really liked Bucky. You didn’t want to risk messing it up by moving too fast. But what grown man would think a kiss on a first date was too fast? Well… maybe one born in the early 1900s…

Before your thoughts could throw you into a downward spiral, the driver pulled up outside your apartment complex. Bucky stepped out first and held the door open for you to scoot out after him. As you stood at the bottom of the stairs to your building, you felt those nerves creeping up on you again. God, you hadn’t felt this nervous about a date since high school.

“I had fun tonight,” Bucky said first, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Me too,” you smiled back. “I’m excited for what you plan for next time.”

Bucky laughed at this, the crinkle of his nose making your own smile grow. God, you wanted to invite him inside already. In your defense, you’ve known him for a full month and spent even longer getting heart-eyes over him in college.

But you reined in your hormones and just took a step closer to him to rest your hands on his chest. His right hand came up to rest on your waist, but he kept the metal hand in his pocket. With your hand placement, you could feel the thrum of his heartbeat and judging by the pace, you knew you were both on the same page. As you were trying to shove your nerves aside, Bucky asked the one question you were hoping for.

“Can I kiss you?”

Knowing he wanted this as much as you did relieved some of your nerves, but also made the moment that much more real. You smiled up at him and nodded your head.

“Yes, please do.”

You perched up on your toes to meet him halfway, letting his lips mold to yours. His hold on your waist tightened as he pulled you closer; you gripped the lapel of his jacket in your fists. Suddenly the cold of the night no longer existed. All you could feel was the warmth radiating off of him as he held you close. He pulled back for a second before diving right back in, this time nipping at your bottom lip. You giggled against him, but didn’t stop him from taking the innocent kiss a step further. Your hands slid from his chest to the nape of his neck before tangling into his long hair. The vibration from his moan as you tugged on his hair ran straight down your spine, making it even harder to leave the date alone.

Reluctantly, you both pulled apart just enough for your noses to brush against each other, the stubble of his beard still tickling your nose. You opened your eyes enough to see the smile on his lips as he pulled back a bit more to see your face.

“I’ll see you Monday?” you said quietly, as if speaking any louder would break you two out of your bubble.

“See you Monday, [Y/N],” Bucky replied just as quietly. His hand slipped from your waist as you backed away, biting your lip at him before you turned and scurried up the steps. Bucky stood on the sidewalk until he could see the light in your apartment flick on, just to make sure you were safe.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x Stark!reader #bucky barnes x stark!reader #Stark!reader #dad!tony #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky fic

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buckyownsmylife · 4 years

Text

You found me - Loki Laufeyson smut

The one where you’re on your period.

Warnings: period sex, oral sex (f), p in v, breeding kink, praise kink

Word count: 3.5K

A/N: Day 7 of kinktober and this one is coming out unrevised because I’m fucking tired and I don’t have a beta. The prompts were praise kink and period sex. Also, Loki is nasty and if you’re squirmy about the subject of blood in sex, you probably shouldn’t read this.

Loki’s P.O.V.

I’d watched the sweet human grow more agitated with each passing day. Upon my arrival at the tower, she immediately caught my eye, not only because of her indisputable beauty, but mostly due to how charming and approachable she was even to me, someone barely considered bearable by most of the other inhabitants of the building.

And still, she didn’t seem to care. Not that the others, her friends, didn’t like if she so much as stood closer to me, and not that I had once tried to destroy her entire planet. “You’re not your mistakes, Loki,” she’d answered when I inquired, at last beaten by my own curiosity. “To me, you have a clean slate. You’ve been nothing but polite and courteous to me since you arrived. I don’t have any reason to continuously mistreat you for crimes you’ve already been acquitted for or that you’ve already suffered for.”

She truly was a mystery to me, her kindness so unusual to my being that I couldn’t help but to drink it in as much as possible, looking for her whenever I didn’t have anything else to do, which was constantly. So when she started to change, despite the small nature of the differences, it all seemed that clearer to me.

It started with her bursting into tears in the middle of breakfast when my bull of a brother accidentally bumped into her, making her drop the cup of tea in her hands. Everyone was startled by the sight, much more than by the porcelain breaking, concerned that she had somehow managed to hurt herself, but after a while, she rubbed her eyes, clearing them of tears before dismissing our preoccupations with a wave of her hand.

“‘M sorry, I’m just sensitive today. I felt guilty over breaking something, God, I’m such a klutz.” No one even had the time to note that it hadn’t been her fault or that the tin man had more than enough money to buy thousands of cups just like the one now destroyed, because she was out of the kitchen in a hurry, taking the light of the morning with her.

Or at least, that’s what it seemed like to me.

Then, the next day, she didn’t appear for breakfast at all. I knocked on her bedroom’s door to find her still lying down, completely wrapped up in her covers, a look of pain in her face. “What’s wrong, my sweet?” I asked, immediately running towards her to check for any sort of bruises, but she simply waved me away.

“‘S just cramps, Loki. Don’t worry about it. I got a heating pad over my belly, I should be down in a minute.” I actually found myself pouting, unconvinced and still worried about who I considered to be my only friend, but when she smiled softly at me, nodding to assure me of her safety, I decided to grant her the space she apparently needed.

It did not mean I wasn’t still concerned.

Then the third day came and with it, an unexpected outburst that consisted of her screaming at that new Barnes guy for being so “awful” to me when he was the person who should understand what I’d been through the most.

Overall, I was definitely very confused about seeing her that angry. She wasn’t the kind of person to lose her head like that. But my confusion was easily surpassed by how touched I was by her demonstration of loyalty.

It had also left me incredibly aroused, and once again I had to resort to taking care of myself before going to sleep, but that is something I was trying very hard to ignore, in order not to scare her away.

But then, the fourth day came, and with it, the most puzzling display of foreign emotions I’d ever seen on her so far. It started with her avoiding me for the better part of the day, before jumping three feet in the air when I managed to find her in the kitchen after everyone had gone out for drinks.

“Y-your fingers are cold,” she explained, but I’d always been cold and she’d never once seemed to have any sort of particular reaction to the temperature of my skin before. “Everyone’s gone, I think I’m gonna call it an early night.”

I wrapped my (cold) fingers around her wrist before she could run away from me. “I was hoping we could take advantage of their absence and watch that movie you’ve been talking about for a while.”

She seemed hesitant, and I tried to ignore how my heart hurt at seeing her avoid my eyes. “Please?” I asked, aware of how I couldn’t remember the last time I’d done so, much less for another person’s companion. “I miss you.”

That last confession came out unintentionally, and I could already see myself backtracking when she raised her beautiful bright eyes to meet mine, smiling softly up at me in a sweet, innocent look that shouldn’t have turned me on as much as it did.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

“Ok,” I agreed, biting my lip to stop a moan from surfacing at the simple sight of Loki smiling openly at me, because of me. “Let’s do it.” I pulled him to the living room, trying not to shiver from how his fingers felt interlaced with mine, knowing he’d think it was because the cold bothered me. I didn’t want him feeling worse than I’d already made him feel, I was already too guilty for my behavior these last few days.

I put on the movie we’d been commenting about before locating a nice blanket to cover us with, before hesitating at the realisation that I really shouldn’t sit as close to him as I usually did.

Unfortunately for me, he noticed, raising one of his perfect eyebrows as I tried to play it off as nothing, laughing at myself before taking a seat next to him on the sofa. “Let’s watch it!” I tried to come off as excited - I’d been the one commenting on how much I wanted him to watch Hocus Pocus for days now, but the second the movie started, I knew I was a lost cause.

Being so close to him, sharing a blanket, being engulfed by his natural perfume of spices and winter, I felt myself growing wet despite my best wishes. Fuck. He was right there. But I knew he’d never see me in any sort of flattering, attractive way, so I had to get a grip over myself, because I didn’t want him to notice that there was something wrong with me.

“Are you ok?” He asked, a few minutes into the movie, as I tried my best to remain absolutely immobile in order not to feel his skin against mine. It was only after he asked that I realized I wasn’t even breathing properly, and I must have looked pathetic, sitting there like a statue, pretending to watch the television.

“Yes, yes,” I breathed out, adjusting myself in hopes to get more comfortable and hopefully calm down his suspicions. “Don’t worry about me. Watch the movie!” The problem now was that the way I was sitting, sitting on both my legs that were now curled underneath me, the throbbing of my clit was just that much more obvious, and I was on the verge of moaning just from the little bit of friction the position offered me.

Fuck, I hate this.

I tried my best to shift in my seat as inconspicuous as possible, but every movement I made now sent a direct jolt to my desperate pussy. I was on the verge of crying when his voice interrupted my own internal monologue again.

“Okay, enough of this, Y/N. You will tell me what’s going on. Speak. Now.” The authoritative tone of his voice didn’t help my little situation at all, and at last, I found myself whimpering under his penetrating gaze. Immediately, my hands came up to cover my mouth, ashamed beyond belief that I’d done something so mortifying, especially since Loki’s eyebrows were now close to his hairline as he stared back at me with his mouth hanging open.

“Are you… Are you aroused?” I couldn’t really admit it, far too embarrassed to speak, so I just hid my face in my hands as I rested my elbows on my thighs. “Did I… Did I do this to you?”

Loki’s P.O.V.

I watched as she started giggling at my question, uncertain as to where that response would lead me as far as the question I’d asked was concerned. When I didn’t offer any sort of accompanying commentary, opting to let the silence in the room rest, she at last sighed, revealing her gorgeous face to me again.

“Yes,” she admitted, and I felt like my heart had stopped beating for a second. She bit her lower lip again, avoiding my gaze as she stared at the tv I’d turned off minutes ago. “I’m sorry, Loki. I know we’re friends, it’s just… I’m on my period and I get really fucking horny and…”

“You’re on your what?” I interrupted, unfamiliar with the term she was utilizing. She blinked a few times, like she wasn’t expecting me to be concerned about that particular part of her speech.

“My period,” she repeated, scratching the back of her neck. “I’m taking by your question that Asgardian women don’t have it, but us Misgardians do. Well, some of us, and only after we reach a certain age. Basically, we start… bleeding… from our… lower parts. And it’s very messy and emotional because our hormones start acting up and that’s why I’ve been acting crazy these last few days.”

I didn’t know what to say, too concerned with trying to process her words. “You bleed… from your lower parts. Why?” Confusion was all I could understand in the moment, but thankfully, it seemed like she didn’t mind. In fact, by the way her adorable giggle echoed around the room, she seemed very amused by my reaction.

“It’s basically nature's way of punishing us for not getting pregnant.” Well, I wasn’t expecting that. Immediately, perking up, I licked my lips as I dragged my eyes over her body once more, admiring the way her breasts moved with each breath she took.

“And you want my help to deal with that,” I clarified, but when her eyebrows shot up on her forehead, I got confused once again.

“No! I mean… No, of course not. What do you think you could do to help me with this?” She asked, hugging herself, her eyes avoiding mine once more. I huffed, getting tired of this and her sheepishness.

“Well, I could put a baby in you, for one.” By the way her mouth fell open, I could see that the idea shocked her, and I wasn’t sure if it was in a good way. “At the very least, I could help you deal with your arousal levels. Don’t you think that would be a much nicer way to spend the evening, than stealing glances at me while clenching your beautiful thighs?”

She shut her mouth but looked to the other side of the room, pondering my words as I waited for any sign of agreement so I could pounce. I was already licking my lips in expectation when she turned back to me, a supplicant look on her face.

“I-I don’t… I mean, yes, sure, but… Loki, I’m all bloodied!” I chuckled as I pulled her to my lap, enjoying her warmth against me. Carefully pushing away the stray hairs across her face, I made sure she was looking deep in my eyes when I talked to her again.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

“Well, I’ve always enjoyed the taste of blood.” The shiver that ran through my spine at his words and the feeling of his cold breath over my mouth stopped me from realizing what was going on until he had me in his arms, half-way through our hallway already.

“Loki…” I tried to warn him once more, despite desperately desiring anything he wanted to be doing to me, but he stopped me with a hush, his beautiful green eyes sparkling as he looked down at me in his arms.

“No more thinking, my sweet. Just feeling.”

The first thing I felt was the softness of his covers as he laid me down on his bed with all the care in the world, like I was the most precious thing he had ever held between his arms. “I never thought I’d see you here, like this,” he whispered, his eyes drinking me in, making my breath hitch at the lust I saw there.

The second thing I felt was his heart beating against mine in a quick dance as he laid down over me, both of our shirts dismissed as he kissed me deeply and languidly. “You really want this,” I noticed, finally realizing that Loki had been wishing for the same thing as I had, probably for just as long.

The only answer I got was a bruise on my neck from his icy lips, before he continued to trace a path with his tongue that took him directly to my nipples. “These look so sensitive, my dove.” He wasn’t wrong. I was sensitive all over, especially after the new nickname he’d just assigned me. “Do not worry, I’ll take proper care of them.”

He drew the nipples with the edge of his tongue, his eyes connected with mine the entire time, and I struggled to keep in the gasps and moans that were begging to be released. Almost as if he was reading my mind, he ordered, “Let them out, my sweet. I want to hear all of the delicious sounds you make. I’ve been dreaming about them for too long.”

The symphony of my own sounds of pleasure then broke free, adding to the dizzy feeling in my head as Loki continued to nibble and suck on each inch of skin available to him. The curtain of raven hair temporarily blocked him from me as he moved lower and lower across my body in a snail’s pace, until his lips were dancing on the edge of my jeans. Only then did he raise his beautiful eyes to meet mine again.

“May I take them off?” I could only nod, but it was enough for him to open that blinding smile of his, while his fingers made quick work of my pants and panties. The smell of blood then reached my nose, albeit timidly, and I groaned, suddenly snapped back to reality. “What’s this?” Loki asked, his fingers playing with the string of my tampon.

“It’s one of the tools women use to contain the blood inside our bodies. I have to change them from time to time, but at least I don’t get permanently dirty during my period.” He didn’t immediately say anything, too preoccupied with analyzing my pussy, while I trembled in expectation under his unwavering gaze.

“Can I pull it out?” Loki asked, his eyes shining with a distinctive sparkle I couldn’t really identify.

“Why?” I hesitated, unsure if I wanted him to see the mess it’d certainly become, even if I desperately wanted to have him inside of me.

“Because I want to taste you, my dove.” He teased me with tiny little kisses over my navel, a mischievous smile on his lips. “And I desperately want to feel you from the inside.”

I didn’t have anything to say to that, but Loki simply took my silence as an agreement. Soon, his tongue was tracing circles around my clit, until it finally closed in on it, before he softly sucked it inside his mouth. And I was a goner.

Thinking was impossible, and he was right, all I could do was feel. I didn’t even notice he’d already taken off my tampon until I felt his tongue going lower and lower, finding my wet hole and plunging inside of it.

He moaned at the taste of the wetness he found there, and I could only tremble in his arms and move my hips to fuck myself on his tongue. “And you wanted to deprive me of this…” He actually looked disappointed in me as he looked down on my cunt perfectly on display for him. He held my lower lips open with both of his thumbs before diving in once more, slurping and groaning and I felt myself cumming just from the deprivation of it all.

At the new flow of wetness that hit his lips, Loki actually growled against my pussy, stretching his jaw to encompass my whole pussy with his mouth. “I could taste you forever, my sweet…” he whispered when he finally pulled away, pushing two long fingers inside of me and pumping a few times as I whined when he touched my sweet spot, pressing harshly against in before pulling back and admiring the mixture of blood and cum in his fingers. “But I really need to be inside of you now.”

After sucking on his own digits until they were clean, Loki stepped out of the bed to remove his pants, revealing a gorgeously long cock, the head red and weeping as he pumped it a few times while looking down at the mess I was, sprawled out over his cover for his viewing pleasure.

“You’re so beautiful,” he commented, almost to himself, and I moaned at the simple comment, catching his attention as his eyes flew back to stare directly at me again. “You get aroused when I compliment you.” It wasn’t a question, and I wouldn’t know what to answer if it were. However, to both of our eyes, it was clear that it was nothing but a statement of the truth.

“Come here, my little dove. Let me ease my throbbing hardness in that perfect warm cunt of yours.” Having yanked me to the edge of the bed by one of my ankles, he pushed inside of me swiftly, cautiously watching my face for any signs of discomfort. “How does it feel, my sweet? To have me inside of your body? Because to me, it’s like reaching Valhalla while remaining on Midgard. You’re so perfect. The perfect flower for me. I think I made the right choice in deciding to deposit the future prince in you.”

He didn’t give me any time to process the information he so casually dropped on me, immediately starting to fuck me with long and deep thrusts that made me feel his cock deep inside my belly.

Loki’s P.O.V.

“Oh, look at you, my sweet… so perfect, accepting me deep inside of you. Can you see it? Look, how much of you is already mine, my love.” I carefully reached her nape to pull her so she could view the protuberance in her lower belly every time I pushed in. “This is where our child will grow. I can’t wait to see you round with my seed.”

Y/N started to sob as I quickened the pace with which I speared her, her nails carving its marks on my shoulders and back. “Lo-Loki, what are you talking about?” She screamed over the sounds of our passionate lovemaking, and I grinned, rubbing my nose on her neck.

“About me making sure you won’t have your period again, my love. Wasn’t this what we talked about just before?” Her eyes grew big at my words, but before she could say anything else, I hit her special spot repeatedly, making her head fall back against the pillow as she screamed her release. “There you go, my sweet… my perfect girl. You want my seed? Say you want to be mine, my dove, say you’ll be only mine until the end of time.”

I closed my eyes as I felt my own high fast approaching, my breathing getting heavier as our movements became even harsher, almost animalistic. “I-I want it, Loki. Make me… Make me yours.”

The sound of her melodic voice asking for my release was what brought me over the edge, and I made sure to continue to pump it further inside of her until I could no longer move, finally allowing myself to drop on top of her warm body.

“Loki…” She called out to me after a few minutes, when I was almost embraced by the sweet hands of slumber.

“Call me my prince,” I immediately interrupted, making myself more comfortable while remaining inside of her.

“My prince…” She tried again, earning an affirmative hum this time. “You know my period only stops while I’m pregnant, right?”

I took some time to think her words through, while I exchanged our positions so she’d be leaning over my chest. “That only means I’ll have to keep you pregnant until eternity, my sweet.”

#loki laufeyson smut #loki smut #loki laufeyson #loki #smut #loki laufeyson fan fiction #loki laufeyson fanfiction #loki fan fiction #loki fanfiction #loki laufeyson reader #loki reader #loki reader fanfiction #loki reader smut

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ontheblock · 3 years

Text

it’s my mental illness and i get to chose which character is vent through❗️❗️anyway, i have been struggling with writing the ending of the second part of my latest patrick hockstetter request and since this has been sitting in my notes for a hot minute, i decided to post it. enjoy this little story absolutely nobody asked for<3

night terrors

no warnings ig- maybe alcohol

Summer never really was plagued by night terrors the way Morty was haunted by them. Whenever she did have a bad dream as a little girl, her parents let her cry it out unless she came to their room themselves. The rare times someone did come over was when Beth was blackout drunk and Jerry followed the soft wailing of his daughter to pet her head while he listened to her sob story of a nightmare. It never helped that Jerry basically coddled baby Morty whenever he woke up - a desperate attempt to even out the neglectful way they treated her first child because they were kids themselves. But all of Jerry‘s attempts were fruitless. Summer heard Morty whine and whimper almost every night through the drywall, even more so since Rick arrived. It was ironic for her to turn out fine with her mother’s neglectful ways. Jerry should’ve maybe considered listening to Beth more with Morty. Or maybe it was meant to be like this. Poor fucker. If his nightmares didn’t take form of bullies anymore it was definitely the looming danger of acid drooling monsters or aliens smart enough to conquer their planet if a self-proclaimed god in a lab coat fucked with them. Yeah, that sounded terrifying for a child. Or maybe the thing he feared most was more simple and childish - their grandfather who took out threats like that for breakfast. But tonight wasn’t a night like that. Summer didn’t wake up from Morty hitting his bedroom wall out of reflex. It was some faceless nightmare of her own that sent her lurching upright with a struggle for air. Whatever it was, she didn’t remember much aside from Jerry‘s face and a leathery hand reaching for her out of the black abyss surrounding her but she felt the aftermath of a sprinting heart and sweat sticking her tank top to her back. Her throat was dry enough to make her reach out to her empty bedside table. She never put a glass of water by her bed, but then again she never needed it.

Swiping back a stray hair, Summer pushed her blanket off to stand up on wobbly legs. She made her way over to the door, stepping over the creaky floorboard. The hallway was quiet but as she crept down the stairs, Summer noticed the flickering lights of the TV pouring out the living room. She had half the mind to blackmail Morty about watching TV on a school night but she definitely kept the info in the back of her mind for tomorrow’s breakfast as she avoided more creaky floorboards on her way to the kitchen. The moron even turned down the volume.

"Morty, I swear to god. Your nightly water trips are getting on my- on my last nerve."

Summer blinked once, twice to place the voice. The distinct alcoholic slur and the audible frown was familiar to her even in a sleepy state. And surely, it was Rick. Shuffling closer, Summer could peek over the couch‘s back to see her grandpa lounging in his oil stained wife beater, tinkering with a cube shaped hunk of metal. Like this she could see his hands at work, talented fingers coaxing loosened screws into their threads. He hissed a low "me cago en tu madre" when the phillips head slipped from the screw he was working on. Summer could make out the blue mesh of veins under the withered skin on the back of his hand. Rick really did have the hands of a worker - a mechanic or construction worker. They looked nothing like the office worker hands of Jerry, if he had even that. He seemed to sense her presence - if that was even possible - because his head turned to look at who he assumed to be Morty.

"Summer? What the fuck are you doing here?"

What was she doing here? She came for a glass of water but her throat was less parched now and something about her mysterious grandpa reeled her in like a damn fish. She took her bait and ran her clammy palm over the couch cushion by her grandpa‘s neck. "I woke up, obviously. I had a nightmare. No big deal." Her eyes pointedly stayed on Rick‘s hand holding a screwdriver or the coffee table with half a bottle of whiskey standing next to Rick‘s feet that he casually propped up onto the wood but she never met his gaze. Why was she even this honest? She could make some kind of excuse but it’s been months since her family showed interest in what she was doing. "Nightmare, huh?" Rick echoed her as if to taste the word on the tip of his tongue. Summer wondered if he had nightmares sometimes. She nodded, eyes finally flickering to his face. The TV casted lights and shadows on his old features. Right now he looked normal, not like that crazy scientist with a mean silver tongue that intimidated her the first time they met at the breakfast table. Summer was used to see the hollow green glow following Rick like a fucked up halo or even the zapping blue rays from devices that can both end and create wars. But now the angular features showed a different side. The soft studio lights of some late night show made him look like a regular addition to the family and it helped Summer release her tense shoulders for the first time in a while, like she didn‘t need to be sarcastic or indifferent all the time. A little voice in the back of her head told her that Morty could be his awkward idiotic self so why couldn’t she?

"Why are you up, grandpa?" She leaned her front against the couch back and kept her voice down just in case Morty did wake up again. "I‘m - bergh - well over the age of bed times. This piece of shit is m-more important." Rick averted his gaze and waved the cube in his hand. Summer hummed and reached for it only to have Rick shuffle it to his other hand and hold it out of reach. "Well, what is it? Can it, like, cause mass destruction or something? Or does it contain a totally freaky virus? Or—" Rick shushed his granddaughter and tossed the cube on the coffee table. "Calm your tits, Summer. It‘s- It‘s to cure Granorian crystals. The, the, the-" Rick rotated his hand as if to underline his search for the most simple explanation "-easiest planet to harvest them happens to have the most impure growth." His hand fell into his lap, the other one snatching the whiskey from the table. "You should go to bed. It’s Tuesday." Summer snorted but it sounded off. "Since when are you the responsible grandparent?"

"I‘m not." His gaze locked on the TV again and he knocked back a sip or two of liquor. "Just thought I get one night free of my annoying grandkids." Ouch. Rick delivered both praise and insults in the same gruff tone - not that he had many kind words to spare, save for Beth when he needed to get his way. "What do you need them for? Can’t you just get, yknow, earth crystals?" Rick belched after a deep gulp from the bottle and dismissively waved his free hand in Summer‘s general direction. "Don’t think about it. Do me- just do us a solid; go back to bed, Summer." Rick expected a bit of huffing and a snarky comment before Summer relented and went back upstairs but he saw her unmoving in his peripheral vision. Summer stared down at the couch cushion‘s seam as if it told her whatever kind of questions were important to a girl her age. Probably if that one guy in school liked her or not. Her fingers rubbed over a stain that looked like red wine her mother spilled last Christmas. "I don’t want to. It’s not like I can go back to sleep anyway. Not- It‘s not because of the dream or anything. Just-" Summer stumbled over her words to find any excuse that would save her the embarrassment of admitting she was a little scared to go back to sleep again. She bit the inside of her cheek when Rick cut her off with a long groan. "You really are Jerry‘s kid. You‘re- Y-You know dreams are just- bullshit hallucinatory experiences aaaaall the way up the hippocampus? It’s not- It’s imaginary, Summer. Just your dummy ape brain processing a bunch of shit while you’re asleep." Rick‘s tone was agitated while he gesticulated but he still scooted closer to the left, ultimately creating more space on the couch. Summer didn’t know where dreams came from, she wasn’t interested in it either but she silently rounded the couch to sit down next to her grandfather. Being this close, she would smell the faint whiskey breath and the Old Spice lingering around her. It was nice for once, calming even. "You know, I‘m not staying because I’m scared because that’s totally lame." Rick just grunted in some kind of indifferent agreement but Summer felt the need to clarify her decision even more. "I mean, it’s just a dream. I‘m not a loser like Morty. I don’t piss my own bed. That‘d be totally— gross." Summer turned back to Rick, fully expecting him to not even pay her any mind but when they locked eyes Summer finally shut her mouth. She never saw a look like this one on Rick‘s face. Not even around Morty - who was quite obviously his favorite grandchild and Summer reminded herself that she didn’t care about that.

Right now Rick‘s withered features looked almost soft even though the hard lines on his face didn’t even out at all. Maybe his resting face just looked mean like that - maybe he was frowning for so long that it became the default for Rick. But still, he looked almost fatherly. Summer‘s pathetic little attempt to look tough in front of the most powerful man she knew stirred something dead in his ribcage.

He remembered a tiny Beth sneaking into their old kitchen where Rick was fixing a leak in the sink. A single glance at his wrist watch told him it was time for Beth‘s nap because if Diane didn’t make her take one Beth would be tired and grumpy all evening. He tried to shoo her back to her room but only got a tantrum out of his daughter until he reluctantly set his task aside and laid down on the living room couch with Beth resting on his chest until Diane came back with their groceries.

"Yeah, sure. What - uhrp - Whatever." Rick looked back at the TV and Summer fell into his silence, her back sinking into the soft cushions. She barely followed the plot of whatever Rick was watching. It looked like some 70s war movie with bad explosions and subpar camera quality. Rick didn’t seem to be the type for nostalgia so it probably just happened to be on at this time of night. The dull colors made her lashes feel heavy again and she let her eyes roam the coffee table Rick still used as his footrest. The cube laid by his foot, forgotten until Rick needed to purify his drugs alien crystals. The whisky bottled left a wet little spot on the wood that she knew Rick wouldn’t wipe away. Jerry wanted to replace the table for a week now. Morty‘s latest comics were scattered on the other side of the table. He always left them in the living room because the idiot just has to get distracted two pages in. An unfamiliar pack of Newport Reds Non-Menthol caught her eye and Summer took a quick glance at Rick. If he noticed, he ignored it. Rick did always have the remnants of cigarette smoke on him but Summer never seen him with one before. There was probably a lot that Summer didn‘t know about her grandpa. She wondered how much her mom really knew about him.

The movie crept close to its finale when a warm weight sank onto Rick‘s thigh. He lowered the bottle from his chapped lips to find soft ginger hair draped over his khaki pants. He went still for a moment with his granddaughter‘s head on his lap. This was territory he hadn’t wet his toes in for decades. Rick wasn’t a stranger to the warmth of another body but this was tender and innocent, enough to take him back in time. He downed the last of his whiskey in one gulp and indulged in the hot rush that followed. The credits rolled on the screen while the bottle neck dangled from his bony fingers.

"How drunk are you right now?"

Rick hummed as if he was doing the math in his head before answering. "Wasted." He put the empty bottle on the fuzzy carpet and shimmied his feet off the table without disturbing Summer in her position. Not that he would admit that.

"So in the morning this didn’t happen?"

Rick took his sweet ass time eyeing Summer and weighing out an answer before he gave a low "yeah, Sum-Sum" and looking back at whatever commercial was on. If Rick ever was good at anything it had to be pretending. He could pretend for Summer just this once too.

#rick and morty #summer smith #rick sanchez #fluff #tw alochol

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asscandles · 3 years

Note

Hey thanks for clarifying before now can I have some friendship(maybe secret crush)headcanons for Fuyuhiko, Peko, and Toko with a friend(reader) thats llike your generic dumbass but they are just like a soft dumbass, they are just too cute to get mad at no matter how stupid they are. So basically a giant cuddly dumbass that just radiate baby energy. Like they(reader)just run up to them saying they want to show them something cool and its just a pretty rock but they look so happy. gender neutral.

ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴋɪɴᴅ ᴏꜰ ʟᴏɴɢ, ꜱᴏ ɪ ᴅᴇᴄɪᴅᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴘᴜᴛ ɪᴛ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴜᴛ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴀ ʟᴏᴛ ᴏꜰ ꜰᴜɴ ᴛᴏ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇ, ꜱᴏ ɪ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ ɪᴛ! ʙᴜᴛ, ɪꜰ ɪᴛ ɪꜱɴ’ᴛ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴᴛᴇᴅ, ɪ’ᴍ ꜱᴏʀʀʏ!

ɪ ᴀʟꜱᴏ ꜰɪɴɪꜱʜᴇᴅ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴀᴛ 3:26 ᴀᴍ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛᴡᴏ ᴡᴇᴇᴋꜱ ʟᴀᴛᴇ, ɪ’ᴍ ᴀʟꜱᴏ ꜱᴏʀʀʏ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜱᴋᴀʟꜰꜰᴅᴊᴋꜰᴀʟ

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ʟᴀɴɢᴜᴀɢᴇ

Peko Pekoyama

“I--What are you doing?”

You stand on the counter, arms extended straight out at your sides. You continue staring ahead with an expressionless face. “I see no god up here… other than me!”

Peko sighs, and you immediately look down at her with round eyes. “Oh, but you’ll always be my queen, Peko! I want you by my side forever!”

Since Peko is always wielding/cleaning her sword, you carry around pastel-colored bandaids and a small first-aid kit in your backpack.

You’re usually by her side, so your absence is always noticed quickly, if not immediately.

You once fell asleep somewhere you shouldn’t have, leaving Peko to ravage the island, searching every nook and cranny until she finally found you curled up in a corner of the airport. All she could do was sigh and crack a tiny, relieved smile. She transfers her sword to her hands before easing you onto her back. Her heart swells when you mumble something and wrap your arms around her neck. All the way back to your cottage, she chides you quietly.

“It’s not safe to be so vulnerable out here. If you’re going to fall asleep out here, do it while I’m with you. Then, you can sleep as soundly as you want.”

M A T C H I N G B R A C E L E T S

You excitedly gave Peko a card to celebrate the anniversary of your friendship. Peko snorted upon seeing that all of the drawings inside were either stick figures or poorly colored. But you just looked so happy… she couldn’t even bring herself to tease you about it.

You both refuse to speak of this, but one night, Peko woke up to the flickering of a faint light and feverish whispering. She had switched into attack mode in a fraction of a second, only to stop dead in her tracks. You had been standing in the middle of the room, doing the renegade by the light of your phone. You froze upon her reaction. Both of you sat there, staring at each other for a solid twelve seconds. You then proceeded to finish the dance, looking her dead in the eye. Peko may have be tired, but she’d be damned if she let you do it alone. So, she does it while standing on her bed, but clearly lacking energy and motivation.

Ambushing Peko with affection is not uncommon for you. It happens rather often, you clinging to her waist and pleading with her, “Hey, tell me that story again! You know, the one where Fuyuhiko was being held captive and you swooped in with your sword and saved the day!”

When you found out that Peko loved fluffy things, you were ecstatic. You bundled her into your cottage immediately, showing off a small collection of stuffed animals that you had managed to cram into your backpack before your arrival at the island.

Peko selects a white cat plushie as her favorite. From that point on, it is your child. No arguments.

You tend to get lost, so Peko sarcastically suggested tying a balloon to your wrist so that you would be easier to find. But, you totally caught her off guard when your eyes began to sparkle and you shouted, “Can I pick the color?” When she doesn’t answer immediately, you grab her hands and hold them close to your own chest endearingly. “Pretty please? With marshmallows and cookie crumble and whipped cream and sprinkles on top?” Peko obliges. When the balloon is finally secured around your wrist, you are absolutely fascinated by it.

You often fawn over Peko’s skills; but when you do, you use interjections and sound effects because you aren’t able to convey your excitement with just words.

Okay, but she’s actually worried about you lmao

“You have… a lot of mosquito bites. What happened?”

“What? They’re not bites! They were giving me kisses, silly!”

You’ve tried multiple times to surprise her with tickle attacks, but they never work. The only time it went according to plan, you managed to get your hands on her for exactly 0.7 seconds before she turned the tables on you.

Platonic dates? Platonic dates.

You’ve 100% made her flower crowns whose petals match the color of her eyes.

Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu

“So… I saw some sour candy in the supermarket. If you lend me the money, I’ll give you half of the rocks I found.” :)

“Considering the fact that you get an adrenaline rush from successfully flipping a pancake, a single piece would kill you immediately.”

Everyone who discovers you two are friends is immediately suspicious. When I say suspicious, I mean, “(Reader), whatever blackmail he’s holding over your head, you don’t have to be scared. We can take care of this together.”

But after witnessing a few of your interactions, they learn of one irrefutable fact.

The embodiment of rage and vulgarity bottled up in human skin does indeed have a weakness.

And that weakness is you.

It didn’t take long for Fuyuhiko to become aware of your appreciation for stickers and your tender heart. That being said, when you’re upset, he won’t object too severely when you request to smooth stickers all over him. He would prefer to keep this interaction private, but if someone does happen to catch him with giraffe stickers on his cheeks and rainbows on his jacket, then he’s going to wear them proudly, goddamnit.

And if anyone has anything rude to say about it, then I hope they can speak sign language, because all they’ll be seeing is hands.

You’re aware of his insecurities, and you can understand why he feels the way that he does. But that’s where you come in. You always seem to approach him at the right moments.

By now, you’ve figured out that he doesn’t always need words to reassure him. It’s enough if you’re just there, ready with open arms and a glass of water. Fuyuhiko doesn’t cry often. But when he does, he ends up dehydrated more often than not.

Let’s be honest. After Fuyuhiko lost his eye, his depth perception was most likely shit. You were always at his side, one hand on his arm as you gently guided him from room to room. You watched over him.

Accidentally knocking over a drink? You were ready to wipe it up. Searching for something he lost? You were there, helping him look. Tripping or bumping into things? You were there with a first aid kit to patch him up.

You try to match his level of sass, but you’re highkey too nervous to swear and you usually stutter the last word of whatever witty comeback you manage to come up with. Fuyuhiko secretly thinks it’s adorable, and he doesn’t want you to lose that part of yourself. That’s why he always defends you when it comes to verbal beatdowns.

You once drew a face on an egg, and when Fuyuhiko questioned you about it, the only thing you could offer was a deadpan “our son.”

“What the hell--that’s an egg.”

“No! His name is Linguini and he’s our child!”

Fuyuhiko is exhausted bro.

You’ve approached him countless times, eyes glowing with awe and insisting that you need to show him something really cool. It’s usually just a rock or a piece of glass, though. He always has the urge to poke fun at you for it, but it fizzles away when he sees how utterly bewitched you are with your find.

One time, he had walked into the room to see you standing on the arms of an office swivel chair, knees bent and arms extended as you fought to maintain your balance. You seemed to be fairly steady.

Still, that didn’t prevent him from nearly falling into cardiac arrest on the spot.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

It had startled you, and the chair rolled out from underneath you. Fuyuhiko rushed to catch you. You both tumbled to the floor in a knot of limbs, lying there in varying degrees of pain. You were laughing. Fuyuhiko was absolutely most fucking not.

“Thanks for breaking my fall!” You had chirped, gesturing to the arm lodged under the small of your back to protect it.

“You little--” Fuyuhiko’s voice had been strained, but his tight-lipped grimace dissolved into a sigh at the sight of your smile. He disentangled himself from you and pressed the pad of his index finger into your forehead. Your lips formed a small “o” shape, your eyes crossing to try to keep track of his finger. “You need to be more careful from now on. I won’t always be here to catch you.”

“But, you’ll still patch me up afterward, right?” You poked his forehead back.

He huffed and pulled away from you. “To the best of my ability. But don’t push it.”

Toko Fukawa

Initially, the only reason that Toko set aside her natural distrust and suspicion of people in order to befriend you was because she thought that you were simply too innocent and simple-minded to ever think badly of a friend.

She thought that having such a sweetheart glued to her side would disperse her dubious reputation and make her seem less suspicious during class trials.

Yep… That’s the only reason she keeps you around...

Not because of the way her heart feels all fuzzy when you embrace her… Or because of how your eyes sparkle whenever she offers to let you read one of her new works… Or because of how relaxed she feels when you weave her hair into intricate braids…

Not at all…

Hahahashutuphahaha…

She often scolds you for being such a pushover when people disrespect you, but she means well. You insist that it doesn’t bother you, but she’s an expert on human emotion. She is a writer, after all. She knows that it haunts your thoughts for a while afterward, and she hates seeing you like that.

You’ve noticed that Toko bites her nails when she’s stressed, so you’ve decided to combat her habit by applying nail polish to her nails. That way, you figure, the taste of the nail polish will deter her from tearing at them with her teeth. She also has the option of picking off the nail polish, which is probably less harmful than chewing on them.

You also kinda sorta... believe that video game cheat codes work in real life, so you’re often moving around and jumping, shouting the combinations as you go.

“Right! Right! Left! Up! Left! Down! Right! X! Y! Now, confess your sins!” You command during a class trial, pointing vaguely toward the accused. Toko just quietly shushes you, dark circles rimming her eyes as she pats your head.

You’ve adopted the habit of narrating the things you do, like whispering “wiggle, wiggle, wiggle” when sliding your feet into your shoes and “shimmy, shimmy, shimmy” when slipping your charm bracelet past your hand onto your wrist. Coincidentally, Toko has also subconsciously started doing the same thing, and she cannot think of anything more irritating.

She once jokingly told you to stop being so dependent on her. You promptly flushed scarlet and snatched the box she had been carrying out of her hands, insisting that you were more than capable of taking it to storage yourself. You had marched indignantly out of the room and headed left, only for Toko to call out, “Uh, storage is the other way.”

You reappeared a moment later, now stomping in the opposite direction. “I knew that!” You huffed.

You’re aware of Genocide Jack, but you aren’t afraid. You whole-heartedly trust that your friendship is enough to outmatch Genocide Jack’s bloodlust, as naive as it may be. Your only response to Toko’s confession of having a split personality is to gift her a cherry-flavored lip balm with a bright smile. At first, Toko is confused. You explain that whenever Genocide Jack makes an appearance, their tongue is always lolling out of their mouth. You’re concerned that their lips will get dried out, and you want to do your best to prevent it.

Did Toko’s heart just burst? Maybe.

Toko shares her romance novels with you, but only the ones without sexual interactions. She believes that you’re far too pure for those. Plus, she would really not rather answer your questions about anything of that nature.

Toko is determined to preserve your purity. She’s very protective whenever someone shows the slightest bit of sexual or romantic interest in you, and has even referred to you as her baby before.

Whenever Toko gets insecure or anxious and covers her face with her hands, you gently remove them from her face with a soft giggle of “Peekaboo!” Toko doesn’t fight you as you carefully pull her into your arms and rest her head against your chest. In fact, she finds herself surprisingly close to tears when you inquire, “Hey, you want to hear a lullaby? I can’t remember who sang it to me first, but it always helps me calm down. So, I want to share it with you!”

There will be times when Toko is too busy writing stories to pay you any attention. But no matter! After a moment of consideration, you have an idea. You gather blankets and pillows and settle onto the floor beside Toko’s seat. Your arms loop themselves around her leg, and your head finds its way onto her thigh. It isn’t long before you doze off, Toko watching you in silent shock, face rosy with bashfulness and eyes wide.

Toko is very adamant about covering up her legs due to both the tally marks scored across her skin and the quote-on-quote “sturdiness” of her thighs. You, however, have an entirely different outlook. You reason, “the bigger your thighs, the more snacks you can hide under them!”

#danganronpa #danganronpa headcanons #danganronpa imagines #danganronpa scenarios #toko fukawa #danganronpa toko #trigger happy havoc #danganronpa fuyuhiko #danganronpa fukawa #danganronpa peko #peko pekoyama #toko fuwaka #fuyuhiko x reader #fuyuhiko headcanons #fuyuhiko kuzuryu x reader

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fieryhonesty · 3 years

Text

The life of You

[AO3]

“I’m sorry! My brain was everywhere this week I should have update this earlier! But certain Adeptus took all of my attention...”

Words: 3525

Not sure how long has passed but when you woke up you could feel a ticklish feeling on cheeks. Kaeya's head was hung down, snuggled close to you. His uncovered eye was closed shut, breathes were even and his arms were firmly wrapped around your waist. How can he sleep like this?

Before you could stop your hand it hesitantly reached towards the male's face. Gently brushing against his skin with your fingertips. It surprised you when he snuggled against your hand. Thinking he was asleep, how naive you are? This man is a light sleeper and good actor at once. He was probably awake even before your hand mindlessly shot up to his cheeks.

"I could get used to being woken up like this.~" Whispering while still having closed eye.

"How comes you are all flirty even after just waking up..." Remarking and retreating your hand. Hearing a disappointed sigh coming out of the male's lips

The rain has stopped, freeing yourself out of Kaeya's arms. Feeling how your clothes are still uncomfortably wet. Not as before but it was far from dry. He helped you to pack up things and then you headed back to the city. You two joked about how it would be funny if you would actually end up sick. You had proudly announced it’s impossible for you to get sick. It’s been a while after all.

Well how it always goes. When one's boasting about something too much, it gets back to them. And of course you got sick. Feeling horribly and unable to get out of bed. You quickly ran out of stocked food and since your cooking skills are miserable... Well even if you could cook there's no way you would be able to stand up and make something.

Maybe it's time to bother neighbors if they could fetch you some food but even that seemed like too much work. Laying on the sofa, listening to your protesting belly. Perhaps if you fall asleep it will stop making noises.

As much as sleeping with an empty stomach proved to be difficult. You managed to fall asleep, only to be woken up by knocking at the door. 'Archons, I can't- no I don't want to move...'

The knocking didn't stop and instead got more loud. It must be really urgent. Forcing yourself to get up, slowly reaching the front door. Using walls as support. Not even bothering to look through the peephole and open the door.

It took you several seconds to realize who you were looking at. Normally you would give him a smile but in your current state all you could manage was a silent groan. Expecting some earful remark but instead the scarlet haired man pushed the door open and slid inside.

Noticing he carried bags, you could smell something yummy. Eyes going up to meet up with his crimson ones. What's that look of his? Is it worry? Considering how Diluc usually behaves, you would have expected he would be angry at you. Clearly remembering that one day when it was colder and he met you wearing just light clothes. He gave you a long lecture and made you go home to fetch something more warm.

"H-Hey... what's with that look?" You coughed, nearly losing balance. Feeling a pair of firm hands supporting you. "M-My hero..." Murmuring before leaning against the tall man. You had long forgotten how it does feel to be sick.

You had no strength to protest or say anything when he moved your hands around his neck, securing his grip on your thighs and carried you. If you were not so busy with feeling 'I'm dying' you would have probably paid more attention to butterflies in your stomach. This way you just blamed it on hunger than anything else.

Diluc laid you back on the sofa, as gently as he could. If he was not sick worried about your well being he would probably scold you on the spot. When he heard from your landlord you fell ill he was not so worried at first. But giving it a second thought. He decided to pay a visit, now being glad he did so. Even more glad for being mindful and fetching some food and meds.

Something was telling him it will come handy. Little did he know his friend is irresponsible enough to not have any kinds of meds at home at all.

Not even painkillers?! One thing was sure, he will have to have a word with you later. For now he will just try to get you to feel better. Moving a spoon with syrup towards your mouth, ‘say: aah'. It felt like taking care of a kid more than an adult.

He didn’t need to check your forehead to know about the fever. Giving you a cold cloth over it. Hearing your little whine about it being too cold. When he was about to turn away your hand gripped on his coat.

"Diluc... I'm hungry..."

"Just wait a bit." He said, gently releasing from the grip.

Moving to the kitchen, looking around a bit and searching for needed stuff. Being aware of how you can barely cook, burning even the easiest things. He put his coat away, rolling up sleeves and getting rid of his gloves.

First he chopped veggies then sliced meat into tiny pieces. Being mindful you might have a sore throat and not being able to gulp too well. It's been a while since he cooked, however that meant nothing as he was quickly creating yummy magic in the pot. Stirring it every now and then.

The kitchen was quickly filled with the pleasant smell of chicken soup. Meanwhile he was waiting for it to be done. He made a lot of tea and some small snack. He planned to drop by later again to check on you and probably bring more food. By looking at you, he knew you would be laying down for a couple of days.

By the time when the soup was done he already made you drink a cup of tea and eat a part of an orange and banana. Your eyes were sparkling when he brought two bowls and placed one right in front of you on the coffee table. He was glad to see you have appetite, that's a good thing.

Giving it a try, despite your taste buds being sleepy. You could feel the intense chicken flavor complimented with a gentle and sweet carrot aftertaste. Eating was probably the most happiest moment of the whole day. It was good, and made you feel warm and full.

When you were done with the bowl, pleading eyes looking at the chef who was just half way through his own portion. He noticed your gaze, looking at the bowl. You didn't need to say it out loud for him to get the message.

As you were going through your second bowl he noticed your face is getting more color into it. Feeling a bit relieved but keeping his stoic expression. For some reason he was doubting his cooking abilities. He knew you wouldn’t say anything as you were hungry and all but still. That little uneasiness was there, trying to get under his skin.

Once you were done with food, having a happy and full belly. Leaning back on the sofa, feeling a bit better. Not sure if it's because of the meds he gave you or because of the food. Probably both. You let out a satisfied sigh.

"You are truly my hero, Diluc." Whispering as you patted your belly. "I didn't know you could cook."

"What's wrong about it? I might have maids but I can cook just fine, only if I had more time for it." He retorted before disappearing into the kitchen and bringing a small platter with cut fruits and more tea.

You were touched. Was he doing all of this just for you? Really?! You didn't know how much he could be caring. Yes he always seemed to be concerned whenever you showed up with some scratch or something. But this was a whole different level of caring.

Your heart skipped a beat when he reached to your forehead.

"You are still burning."

"Uh, huh?"

Not sure if you were burning because of being sick or because of his sudden touch. Averting your eyes and laying down. Feeling a bit confused why your body was reacting the way it was.

"Here." Giving you fresh cloth over your forehead.

"T-Thanks..."

Diluc hummed in response before retreating to the kitchen to fetch his clothing. He still has to take care of a few things. Before he left you called out to him.

"I will drop by later on in case you are worried I'd let you starve." Clarifying as he was adjusting his gloves.

"That's not it... I wanted to say thank you. I appreciate what you did, really."

He did not think of it that much. For him it was just a simple worry about somebody who's close to him. He'd be rather if you could spend your sickness at his manor as there is always somebody who could check on you. However in your state it’s better to stay where you are.

"Oh, Diluc! I guess you could take my spare keys... in case I faint so you can find me, heh."

It was a good sign as your humor was coming back a little. Although he would have preferred not to find you unconscious or something else. Still taking your spare keys felt a little too personal, glancing at you.

"Are you sure about it?"

"Ah, c'mon. If you were somebody else I'd reconsider it but I trust you. Besides, I was thinking of giving you spare keys before. It's not a big deal."

Letting out a sigh. He still does not feel right about it but coming to the conclusion it will be better if you just stay in bed. Also in case you will be sleeping he could just quickly leave food here and disappear again.

"Alright then. Where are they?"

"They are in- uh. Kitchen, first drawer. I hid them under cutlery."

Strange place where to hide spare keys but part of him was glad it had been the kitchen and not your bedroom. Not sure if he would have dared to venture in there. As much as you two know each other he has some boundaries and privacy respecting.

After he secured the keys he took his leave. Leaving you alone. You wanted to sleep but at the same time your brain was replaying last hour. It was somehow hard to believe somebody came to rescue. He literally came here just to cook and give you meds. And did not ask for anything in return.

This was the first time when somebody did it for you. It was a new thing to you. And the warm feeling inside, what is it? You were used to your assistant being worried, bringing some tea. But in fact you never were sick that much to end up in bed. Unable to get up or take care of yourself. It was usually just some minor cold which faded after two or three days of resting.

Diluc was dropping by for the next few days, sometimes staying for a while to exchange a few words, sometimes he just left food in the kitchen and left. It was mostly because of his schedule.

You felt a bit bad for him for making time specially for your needs. When you tried to bring it up and tell him it's fine, that you feel much better now. He gave you a lecture about how it would be more than irresponsible to roam in streets while being ill.

Also adding remarks on how stupid idea it was to hang out with Kaeya. When he first heard what was the cause of you falling ill he wanted to go after the said man. But you grabbed his hand, convincing him it was not Kaeya's fault. Like how was he supposed to know it will be raining? Which Diluc retorted with 'You could have hid somewhere before getting wet.'

You wanted to try and explain it more in detail but he didn’t care. Anything related to Kaeya was always making him at least annoyed. He refused to talk about him. Diluc let out a defeated sigh. He was tired to reason with you about it. Leaving it at remark "the knights are irresponsible as always, including their Captain..."

You deadpanned.

"Here we go again."

"What. You can't deny it."

Rather not answering that and just cuddling into your fuzzy blanket. Feeling much better than before. Fevers were gone and you could move around the apartment without feeling like you will die at any second.

He got quite used to just opening the door and entering like it was something he did for years. His first uneasiness tied to intruding his friend's place was gone. Perhaps he should have stayed more cautious for a bit as one day he came in and couldn't find you.

He ran into you as you just got out of shower. Probably both of you had a heart attack, he quickly turned away and murmured an apology. You also felt guilty, you could have got dressed in the bathroom, not to walk around just in a towel. Answering him with a little apology and asking if he could wait for you in the living room.

As you felt good enough to take a shower, you didn’t expect Diluc would come at this hour! Usually he dropped by around lunch or before dinner. There was no need for him to come twice a day.

Your fridge was filled with home made dishes tweaked to you likings. You really didn't know why he cared so much, why he troubled himself to cook for you. Maybe you should take some cooking classes once you are fit again. Just for the sake of not making your friends worried in future.

Now when you were dry and in fresh clothes, feeling more like a human. You could face Diluc who was just staring at the coffee table. Coughing to get his attention, exchanging embarrassed looks. And just like that you promised to each other to not talk about it.

Being glad it was just him who saw you. You were sure if it was somebody else he wouldn't let you be and tease about it for several days.

"So, what's new? Also fancy to have some tea or you gonna swoosh away?"

"If I were to swoosh, I wouldn't be here now. I have time. Also I brought you some fresh grapes, you need vitamins."

Giggling at the way he repeated the swoosh. Waltzing into the kitchen and putting the kettle on the stove. Finding it funny how the stove lately was used much more and it was only because of your friend cooking on it. You rarely used it, mostly to boil water or heat up some quick made food you bought at the market.

Checking the fridge and seeing a quite bountiful amount of grapes. When he said some you expected like one twig not three.

"Um, Diluc? Those grapes are from your... won't you miss them?"

You shouted at him while your head was still partially stuck in the fridge, plucking a few pieces.

"Do you really think this little will affect the wine production? Besides those wouldn't be used for wine."

You peeked into the living room mouth filled with several grapes.

"So you gave me some bad ones I see."

"No, it's not like that. You know we grow separate grapes for selling."

"I know. I'm joking, thanks by the way." Returning back to the kitchen as the water was boiling already.

A bit later you brought two cups of steaming tea and somehow managed to balance a plate with grapes on one of the cups. Diluc raised an eyebrow at you.

"You wouldn't die from going there again, you know."

"Ah yes, the Diluc I know is back. How about you compliment my uh... waitress skills instead of being sarcastic, hmm?"

Moving the plate closer if he wants but he just shakes his head. He brought it for you after all. Observing how you were happily stuffing your face with the fruit.

"You asked about the news. Your new sword is finished."

"A new sword? Since when I- DILUC?!" You had issues not to spit in surprise. Grapes on Diluc’s face was the last thing you wanted to see.

"What? The sooner it's done the sooner you can use it to keep yourself safe."

How can he say it so casually. Like it’s nothing?! You were staring at Diluc in horror. 'Please tell me you didn't pay for it too...' You already felt bad and paying for a sword was not a joke. Weapons are expensive, especially the sturdier ones.

"S-So... how much do I owe?"

"A promise you will look after yourself."

"YOU CAN'T BE SERIOUS! IT'S EXPENSIVE!"

Diluc smugged at you. That damn smug was somehow fitting to him but that’s not the point. He paid for your sword?!

"Well how about this. Consider it as a gift. I still didn't give you anything to welcome you back despite you being here for a while now."

"But you don't have to give me anything! You already did enough with letting me sleep under your roof for a while and now you have been nursing me."

You couldn't resist the urge to massage your temples. "You better forget about my birthday and Christmas existence, you hear me."

Why was everyone giving you welcome back gifts?! The mugs you drink tea from are from Lisa. The bathrobe which was currently in the laundry basket was from Jean. Then there's Kaeya and his sleepover. Well the Darknight Hero was topping all of these in terms of price.

You were pondering over if this was his way to flex over a certain cryo user. Rather not asking him that out loud and changing topic.

"How's business? Last time you said you were rushing to a meeting or something like that."

"Not really meeting. Somebody was hosting a celebration and wanted a few barrels."

"Barrels..." You repeat mindlessly while Diluc drinks from his mug.

Your eyes lingered at his face for too long. He is really handsome, no wonder the girl from florists has hearts in her eyes whenever he passes by. His face is perfectly decorated with the loose hair which couldn't fit into his pony tail as they were too short.

"Why don't you tie up your hair higher more often?"

It escaped your lips before you could stop yourself. Realizing what you had said out loud. Inner panic was taking over you. Just why did you say that?! If you could you would jump behind the sofa and hide away from his surprised gaze. This feeling is mortifying.

"You think I should?" He asked with tilted head to the side.

"Um, forget about it. It was just a slip of tongue. Uh.. Any other news?"

You have to quickly change the subject. Diluc's gaze was killing you, you could swear your cheeks were slowly turning into the same color as his hair. In panic you pulled the blanket next to you over yourself. Diluc was just winking as he was confused with what his friend was doing. Clearing his throat.

"There's nothing much new. Well other than Aether will leave in a few days."

Peeking out of your cover. "Huh? Where to?"

"Liyue. There will be soon a rite of descension am I right?"

You hummed in response.

"I wonder. Where could his sister be? Also do you think once he finds her he will visit us before leaving to their world?" More than a question it was a slight worry. You weren’t sure about the boy’s plans, nor wanted to feel him like he is obliged to do something. He came here to search for his sister anyway.

Diluc sips from his cup again. "Probably."

"Mhhh, I suppose I could tag along. I'm sure he'd welcome a guide." Pondering over it for a while until you noticed Diluc’s gaze.

"What? I'm feeling fine. Thanks to your care. Besides, I have a feeling Mrs. Yue would like me to attend. Last year was so hectic and previous ones I was too busy. I mean... I'm a little eager to see it. So far I have only seen it once and it was just part way..."

Diluc couldn't say anything about it as he knew about the policy between you and the assistant. From what he heard people in Liyue tend to follow traditions and you look well. Probably you will be ready for the travel.

"I see. I guess I should give you back the keys."

"Keep them- in case of emergency. Or~ in case I adopt some adorable street cat and I will need you to feed it in my absence."

Grunting in disapproval. As if he didn't have enough keys already…

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#genshin impact #genshin x reader #diluc x reader #kaeya x reader #genshin impact x reader #f!reader #genshin diluc #genshin kaeya #genshin impact diluc #genshin impact kaeya #diluc #kaeya #fiery series #what could go wrong?

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gusu-emilu · 3 years

Text

seven nights to turn (3/4)

chapter three: turn

Ship: Jiang Cheng / Wen Ning

Summary: Jiang Cheng counts the passage of time by nights, not days. He’s spending the next seven in a cabin on the fringe of the Cloud Recesses. On the first night, he hears humming.

Rated E, Post-Canon, Mentioned Canonical Violence & Character Deaths, Grief/Trauma, Panic Attacks, but finally some bonding time

<< Ch. 1 | < Ch. 2

read on AO3 or on Tumblr below

“Wen Qionglin!”

Wen Ning almost looks at him, but then his eyes roll back, and he convulses even harder.

Jiang Cheng holds him firm. “Listen to me! Wen Ning!”

He whimpers. The resentful energy surrounding him thickens, reaches toward Jiang Cheng.

“Say something!”

Wen Ning’s eyes are still fixed on the spot on the floor where the brush had landed. “That’s a—that’s what the Lan use to clean their guqins,” he says.

“I know what it is.” Jiang Cheng staggers to his feet, his back aching from being shoved to the floor.

“Why do you have it?”

Jiang Cheng considers storming out the door and not looking back, but he can’t bring himself to move.

“For…” Wen Ning furrows his brow, like this is the most perplexing situation he’s ever encountered. “For Hanguang-Jun?”

If only Wen Ning had assumed the brush was for someone else, some random Lan disciple, or one of the juniors—hell, even Lan Qiren would do—because letting Wen Ning think that he bought a guqin brush for that stuck-up asshole Lan Wangji is not allowable.

“It’s for Lan Sizhui.” Jiang Cheng grits his teeth. “Wei Wuxian asked me to buy it.”

Wen Ning shakes his head. “No, A-Yuan just got a new brush recently. All Wei-gongzi needs to buy for him is cleaning oil.”

Jiang Cheng is beginning to feel like a caged animal.

Wen Ning takes an awkward step toward him. “Did you leave that bottle of oil outside A-Yuan’s door?”

“How do you know about that?”

He shrugs. “I saw it there.”

It’s a good thing that Wen Ning didn’t light a lamp in the room, because Jiang Cheng’s cheeks are starting to burn. Hopefully the blue moonlight doesn’t reveal any color in his face.

“Why didn’t you leave the brush there, too?”

Before Jiang Cheng knows what he’s doing, as if something outside himself is puppeteering his limbs and forcing him to speak, he walks up to Wen Ning and holds out the brush. “You give it to him.”

Wen Ning stares at it, his lips parted.

“Take it.”

He carefully lifts the brush from Jiang Cheng’s hand, making sure not to touch his skin, and continues to stare at it, studying its red handle. “These colors…A-Yuan can’t use this when other people are around.”

Jiang Cheng wants to bite his own lip open. He’s humiliated himself with yet another useless gift.

“Fine, then. It’s not like you appreciated the other things I gave you,” he says before he can stop himself.

Startled, Wen Ning tightens his grip around the brush. Then he murmurs, “Gave me?” His eyes widen. “The tea…talismans…”

Jiang Cheng’s gut plummets with panic.

“I’ve—I’ve—” Wen Ning stammers. “I’m sorry.”

“The hell are you apologizing for now?”

“You really were just trying to be kind, and in return I’ve…harmed you.”

“You didn’t harm me!” More heat rises in him at the suggestion that Wen Ning somehow hurt him—especially because in a way, it’s true. “And I wasn’t—I wasn’t ‘trying’ to be anything! It’s just, if you were going to hum outside my door every night, you should’ve at least done something to make it sound good!”

Wen Ning gives a sad, thoughtful look. The face of a corpse shouldn’t be this expressive. “I’ve disturbed your sleep.”

“I don’t sleep anyway!” He immediately clamps his mouth shut. He didn’t mean to say that.

Wen Ning seems to contemplate this for a moment. “I don’t either.” He walks away to find a place to set down the brush, his back turned to Jiang Cheng.

An excellent opportunity for Jiang Cheng to slip away.

He doesn’t.

He can’t push it down anymore. He can’t not admit it to himself.

There is something about Wen Ning that keeps Jiang Cheng rooted in place, waiting. A sense of Wen Ning’s potential to both heal and destroy him. A feeling that they share some of the same miseries. A hope to set one thing right out of the mistakes he made in the past.

The moment that Wen Ning protected Jin Ling from Baxia—his body bent over and strained, his teeth bared in a grimace, the skin of his palm slicing open under the blade as he held it back—Jiang Cheng’s entire perception of him flipped.

He can’t hate someone who is the reason Jin Ling is still alive.

Could Lan Sizhui be the key to changing how Wen Ning sees him?

A brush and a bottle of oil are nothing, pitiful gifts if they count as gifts at all, but Wen Ning seems like the type of person who would gaze in wonder if you gave him a pinecone and said it was because it looked pretty.

Could this sudden softening of Wen Ning’s demeanor be from Jiang Cheng’s show of care, however small, for Lan Sizhui?

How much more could he change how Wen Ning saw him if he actually did something worthwhile?

Dread rises in him at the thought. Somehow the idea of undeserved forgiveness from Wen Ning is more frightening than his wrath.

His thoughts break when Wen Ning returns to stand in front of him, his expression much softer than before. “Thank you. A-Yuan will like the brush.” He tugs at his sleeves. “I didn’t mean to be ungrateful. I just—I thought you would have understood.”

“The brush was just a random color.”

“No, not that—I mean, that too—but I…I mean, the other things.”

“I don’t have time to listen to you speak in riddles,” Jiang Cheng says despite the fact that it’s the middle of the night and he has nowhere to be. “Say it clearly.”

“Well, first—"

“It doesn’t need a preamble.”

Wen Ning’s expression darkens. “First, I don’t like to be called a Wen-dog.”

Jiang Cheng feels a pang in his chest. “I…I didn’t mean that anyway.”

Wen Ning nods, but he doesn’t seem exactly happy. Perhaps Jiang Cheng had snapped at him too much.

“Your humming…” Jiang Cheng looks away. “I didn’t mean that either. It’s fine. It could be better. But it’s fine.”

“Really?” Wen Ning sounds genuinely surprised. Then, more quietly: “I really had thought you would’ve understood.”

“Understood what?”

“Now that you know.”

“You—" He stops himself, takes a moment to sap some of the impatience from his voice. “Just get to the point.”

Wen Ning frowns. His voice is a low murmur, rough with the same imperfections as his humming. “I’ve always wondered what it might be like to be more human again. When Wei-gongzi returned from his travels, I asked him to help fix a few things about me. The first thing he worked on was my voice, so I could hum and sing.”

Jiang Cheng shifts his feet, waiting for him to continue.

Wen Ning looks out the window. “I’m very grateful for it. Wei-gongzi was happy too. After that he came up with more plans, more ways to help me. I thought that it would make me feel better.” He shakes his head. “It didn’t. Already the next day, I didn’t want it anymore. It just made me think of...” He trails off, then collects himself. “I’ve been experimented on enough already.”

Jinlintai.

What had it been like, those sixteen years Wen Ning was locked in Jinlintai?

Something claws up inside Jiang Cheng, and he realizes that it’s…protectiveness. “What did they do to you?”

“I don’t really remember.”

“That’s…good.”

Jiang Cheng had been tortured at the hands of the Wen, and that had only been for a night. He still dreams about it sometimes, the sting of the discipline whip on his back, the horror of his parents’ bodies bloody and lifeless on the ground, the iron grip that seemed to rip his core right out of him. He can’t imagine remembering years of agony like that. To have that pain forever weighing on his mind.

“I didn’t want Wei-gongzi’s help anymore,” Wen Ning says. “But I didn’t know how to tell him.” Apparently that’s the end of the story, because he meets Jiang Cheng’s eyes expectantly, as if waiting for something.

Jiang Cheng can’t help but be reminded of the golden core transfer.

He has been changed. Been experimented on.

The realization hits him, and his heart sinks. Wen Ning had expected him to know how it feels to be broken and fixed. To know the conflicting feelings of gratitude and inadequacy and guilt that resulted from it. This was why Jiang Cheng’s attempt to improve his humming offended him so much—because all his “help” did was tell Wen Ning that he was incomplete.

Of all people, Jiang Cheng should have known.

“I…” He swallows. “I understand.”

Relief appears on Wen Ning’s face. He looks down at his hands. Then, like he doesn’t want Jiang Cheng to hear it, he mumbles, “I’ve been avoiding him.”

That’s a shock.

To his surprise, Jiang Cheng finds himself getting angry on his brother’s behalf. “You shouldn’t do that,” he says. When Wen Ning glances up, confused, he clarifies, “Shouldn’t avoid him.”

“Neither should you.”

Jiang Cheng freezes.

He knows he can’t argue with that, but he tries anyway. “It would be easier for you,” he says, sharper than he means to.

Wen Ning looks him dead in the eyes. “Would it?”

That catches him off guard.

“One thing I do remember from Jinlintai is…” Wen Ning seems to wince as if old wounds are torn open again. “I remember M-Mo Xuanyu.”

Jiang Cheng’s eyes widen.

“He would talk to me. Sometimes he was even nice to me. But he also had to…had to…”

Now he fully understands.

What must it be like for Wen Ning to see his closest friend return in the body of someone who tortured him? How could he explain this to Wei Wuxian without making him feel guilty about something he couldn’t control?

Wen Ning looks lost in memory. Miserable.

Uncertain of what to say, Jiang Cheng rests his hand on Wen Ning’s shoulder.

Wen Ning makes the tiniest gasp and glances down at Jiang Cheng’s hand. Something shifts in his expression—Jiang Cheng can’t tell what—but it’s like a single knot of a giant tangle has come untied.

Jiang Cheng slowly removes his hand. “You shouldn’t have been there in Jinlintai.”

“But I killed so many of their clansmen.” His voice drops to a whisper. “I killed Jin Zixuan.”

“That wasn’t your fault.”

“It was by my hand. The resentful energy was mine.”

“You were being controlled!”

Wen Ning draws his lower lip between his teeth. His voice is thick with emotion, like he is afraid of his own words. “I have so much resentment in me.” He looks away suddenly, wrings his hands. “I never wanted to kill Jin Zixuan. I never wanted to kill anybody. But…I…” He squeezes his eyes shut. “I didn’t like him that much.”

Of course Wen Ning wouldn’t like Jin Zixuan. He was in a position of power, the best candidate to protect the Dafan Wen. He was the favored son of that gilded swine of a man who led the cruelty against them, and he did not prevent it.

“You can’t control whether or not you like someone,” Jiang Cheng says. “I didn’t like him all that much either!”

“But I couldn’t stop myself,” Wen Ning says. “All it took was Wei-gongzi losing control, and I lost control too. And because the resentment was already in me…I killed him. It was me.” He shakes his head. “This is why we can never be even, Jiang Wanyin. You stepped aside when you could have helped, and I—I can’t forgive you for that. But my people were already doomed to die from the beginning of the Sunshot Campaign. You didn’t even do anything to directly harm us.

“But I killed with my own hands. Jin Zixuan was never meant to die, and I had the chance to stop it. I didn’t.” He looks at the floor, his lip quivering. “If I hadn’t killed him…Wei-gongzi and Jiejie could’ve lived.”

Jiang Cheng grabs him by the shoulders. “Listen to me. I don’t blame you for what happened.”

“But—”

“I hate you for it. But I don’t blame you.”

“Then we truly can’t be even, because I still blame you.”

The words are like a punch in the stomach. But what else could he expect?

“Then blame me! Blame me all you want!”

“I don’t want to blame you.”

“Just…” Jiang Cheng lets go of him. “Make up your mind.”

Wen Ning is silent for a few moments. “I’m still worried about something like Qiongqi Path happening again. It almost did, when I was possessed by Baxia.”

“No. You saved Jin Ling.”

Wen Ning doesn’t reply.

Now would be the time for Jiang Cheng to leave, to finally let Wen Ning remain undisturbed. But he stands in place, suddenly calm.

“You said you don’t sleep.” Jiang Cheng tries to make it sound like a question.

“You don’t either?”

“…Not really.”

“I don’t need to sleep, though.”

“Can you?”

Wen Ning’s jaw tightens. “I don’t like to.”

Jiang Cheng rubs his thumb back and forth over the metal coils of Zidian. There are only a few things that could make someone choose not to sleep. “…Dreams?”

The only answer is a telling silence.

Nodding, Jiang Cheng turns toward the door and slides it open. Pauses.

He shuts the door. “If you…if you’re going to be up all night—”

“You can stay.” Wen Ning gestures toward the tea table. “If you want.”

Jiang Cheng chews his lip. He was going to ask Wen Ning to come to his cabin, but…that might be too much to ask for.

They sit.

The air feels slightly warmer, but dense and heavy. Wen Ning rocks back and forth in his seat, staring down at the table, until eventually he stops and there is no movement left in the room.

Anxious to break the stillness, Jiang Cheng pours a cup of tea, but he can’t bring himself to drink it. His eyes wander around the dim room, hunting for a distraction from the heaviness in the air. He nods toward the assortment of plants and cultivation objects on the windowsill. “What’s all that?”

Wen Ning turns toward the window. “Medicinal herbs.”

“Are you the doctor around here or something?”

“No, nothing like that. I’m…I’m trying to recreate some medicines that my sister used to make. A lot of the recipes are missing from her writings.” He looks down at his hands. “A lot of her work has been lost.”

A strange silence settles over them. Jiang Cheng feels a warm pulse from his golden core.

He clears his throat. “It’s uh…it’s a shame.”

Wen Ning thins his lips. Slouches forward.

“Have you made any of the medicines?” Jiang Cheng asks.

“Not quite.”

Jiang Cheng nods. “My…my sister used to write songs. She’d sing them.” He adds, more quietly, “Or hum them.”

Wen Ning’s gaze intensifies.

“She had pages and pages of music in Lotus Pier.” He turns the tea cup back and forth, wearing its bottom into the table. “All burned. She never rewrote them.”

“Do you remember them?”

He shrugs. “Sometimes.” Suddenly uncomfortable, he props his elbows on the table and folds his hands in front of his face, studying Wen Ning and wondering how to continue talking. If he should continue talking. He isn’t good at…whatever this is.

But questions are easy enough. Questions are working.

He points toward the window. “What’s the rest of the stuff there? All the spiritual items between the plants.”

Wen Ning hesitates for a moment, then walks over to the windowsill. “They’re mostly things the juniors found on night hunts.” He picks up a dark red gemstone. “This is a garnet stone that helps dissipate negative energies. A-Yuan found it near Qinghe.” He exchanges the stone for a necklace of carved wooden beads. “A-Yuan bought this in a town we visited.” Next he picks up a thin bundle of talismans, and his face lights up. “Wei-gongzi has been teaching A-Yuan how to invent his own talismans, and he wrote these himself. If you light one, it makes sparks that take the shape of an animal and fly through the air.”

He explains more items on the shelf, and although there are one or two “Lan Jingyi”s or “Ouyang Zizhen”s or some name Jiang Cheng doesn’t recognize in the mix, the same refrain comes up over and over: A-Yuan gave me this, A-Yuan bought that, A-Yuan made this, A-Yuan found that.

Apparently once Wen Ning gets on the topic of “A-Yuan,” he doesn’t shut up. Jiang Cheng finds himself reminded of how proud he felt each time A-Ling won a sword fight, or passed an exam, or defeated a beast on a night hunt. The corners of his mouth creep upward.

“And this one—" Wen Ning cuts off and stares at Jiang Cheng like something is wrong with him.

Embarrassed, Jiang Cheng clears the smile from his face. “What?”

Wen Ning stares for a little longer, then glances away. “Um, nothing.”

He doesn’t discuss the few remaining items, instead wordlessly examining the plants. Jiang Cheng finds himself relieved by this choice, as his thoughts of A-Ling disappear, replaced by the memory of a toddler hugging his leg in the Burial Mounds, and suddenly he doesn’t want to hear more about Lan Sizhui.

Although some of A-Ling’s milestones happened out of Jiang Cheng’s sight, he learned of them no less than a day later. Even so, Jiang Cheng still has keepsakes from A-Ling in his bedroom.

But Wen Ning missed everything in Lan Sizhui’s life. Of course he would clutch onto these small trinkets and display them like decorations.

Jiang Cheng rubs his thumbs together. “He’s…he’s a good kid.”

Wen Ning fiddles with the leaves of a plant. “He is.”

For the sake of something to do, Jiang Cheng finishes the tea in his cup. Pours another.

Wen Ning rests his hand on one of the pots on the windowsill. “I just remembered that I need to prune this plant. Is it alright if I—”

“I don’t care.”

Wen Ning carries over the large potted plant, some kind of small bush, and sets it down on the floor next to the table. He brings over shears that are bit too small for his hands and starts cutting away tiny sections of the bush. Jiang Cheng sips tea and listens to the gentle snipping sounds, sometimes watching Wen Ning tend to the plant, sometimes watching the liquid swirl in his cup, sometimes staring at nothing at all. Exhaustion begins to seep into him.

After a while, a faint sound of music reaches Jiang Cheng’s ears.

Humming.

Tension releases from his muscles. The cup feels heavy in his hand.

He must nearly close his eyes, because the humming stops, and Wen Ning murmurs, “I thought you don’t sleep.”

“Mn.” Jiang Cheng blinks a few times and straightens himself up.

He expects Wen Ning to suggest he go back to his own cabin, but instead Wen Ning asks, “Does this…does this help you sleep?”

“No.” He sounds drowsier than he wants to.

Wen Ning resumes his trimming of the plant.

The last thing Jiang Cheng remembers after that is half-walking, half-staggering back to his cabin, a phantomlike pressure steadying him—or perhaps nothing was touching him at all—and then soft blankets surround him as he drifts asleep to the faint melody of humming in the distance.

* * *

He wakes with a jolt.

Groaning. Someone is in pain—

It’s still nighttime. He must not have slept for long. He shoves off the covers and hastens outside, following the gut-wrenching groans until he arrives at the creek where Wen Ning and Lan Sizhui had played music four nights ago.

Wen Ning is on the ground, hunched over at the bank of the creek with his hands in the water. His body is convulsing. Dark, cloudy tendrils snake upward from him.

Resentful energy.

Jiang Cheng runs forward and drops to the ground beside Wen Ning. He grabs him by the shoulders and pulls him away from the water.

“Wen Qionglin!”

Wen Ning almost looks at him, but then his eyes roll back, and he convulses even harder.

Jiang Cheng holds him firm. “Listen to me! Wen Ning!”

He whimpers. The resentful energy surrounding him thickens, reaches toward Jiang Cheng.

“Say something!”

Wen Ning opens and closes his mouth, but no sound comes out.

Jiang Cheng is not the man to help in this situation. When has he ever been able to calm someone down? Wei Wuxian would know what to do—

Should he get Wei Wuxian?

But what could happen if he leaves Wen Ning alone?

He uses strength from his spiritual energy to steady Wen Ning’s convulsions. “I need you to come back! Tell me—”

“Don’t do it…” Wen Ning moans toward some unseen figure, as if trapped in a nightmare.

What could shake Wen Ning back to consciousness? Force him into the present?

The one thing that has grounded Jiang Cheng through the darkest times has been work—the tedium of life, of running his sect, the constant chores and movement. Something to latch onto and distract himself.

The idea doesn’t seem promising, but it’s worth a try.

“Tell me everything you do during a day,” Jiang Cheng says.

“A…a day?” Wen Ning croaks out.

“Just list it for me. List everything you do in the Cloud Recesses.”

Wen Ning doesn’t respond, but the smoke of resentful energy begins to wither, folding in on itself as it floats downward.

“What did you do today?” Jiang Cheng squeezes his shoulders tighter. “What do you need to do tomorrow?”

Wen Ning rocks back and forth. “I—I usually…b-buy things…”

“Good…good...”

“Go on night hunts.” The resentful energy begins to thin.

It’s working. He can’t believe it’s actually working.

“Keep going,” Jiang Cheng searches his face for signs of his awareness returning. “You’re—you’re doing well. Keep listing.”

“I take inventory of m-medical supplies.” Wen Ning’s voice is hoarse, but it’s beginning to sound less pained. “Sometimes I clean them.”

Jiang Cheng loosens his hold on Wen Ning, who has stopped rocking back and forth. “Good…tell me more.”

“Read music books that Hanguang-Jun gave me. Take care of the rabbits on the back hill.” He smiles a bit. “Get chased out of the Main Hall by Lan Qiren.”

He meets Jiang Cheng’s eyes, and the last wisps of resentful energy dissipate.

They stare at each other until Jiang Cheng realizes his hands are still on Wen Ning’s shoulders. He pulls away and stands up. Takes a few steps back and clears his throat.

Wen Ning hangs his head. “Th-Thank you.”

Jiang Cheng nods. Swallows. “You…weren’t kidding when you said you can’t control yourself.”

“I’m not usually like this.” He turns to watch the flow of the creek like he wants to dissolve into it and drift away. “This hasn’t happened to me in a long time.”

“…Why’d it happen now?”

Wen Ning gives a small, rueful smile. “I fell asleep.”

“Your dreams are that bad?”

“I don’t exactly get dreams anymore.” He fiddles with the sleeve of his robe. “They’re more like recurring memories.”

Memories. Those can be much worse than nightmares.

Jiang Cheng feels a sudden urge to lift this burden from Wen Ning. To be a well for Wen Ning to fill with his pain until everything from the past hangs on Jiang Cheng’s heart, not his.

His attempts to give Wen Ning something have been useless.

If Jiang Cheng is stuck forever taking from Wen Ning, he can at least try to take away something that weighs him down.

“Memories of what?”

Wen Ning silently trails his fingers through the creek. There is no sound in the forest except the water’s gentle murmuring as it flows around Wen Ning’s hand.

Just before Jiang Cheng is about to ask again, Wen Ning mumbles, “They made me watch.”

He doesn’t say anything else. Jiang Cheng slowly lowers to sit on the ground a few feet away and waits for him to continue speaking.

Wen Ning starts pulling out blades of grass from the ground, his fingers still wet from the creek and dripping beads of water onto the cold grass like dew. “I had to w-watch when she…when she was...” He trails off.

Jiang Cheng’s chest constricts.

He can’t be talking about what Jiang Cheng thinks he is.

But what else could it be?

By the way Wen Ning’s eyes are filled with pain, Jiang Cheng’s guess cannot be wrong.

Wen Ning was forced to watch Wen Qing be burned at the stake.

The image scorches his mind. Rips at his throat and leaves his voice useless.

He had never been able to bring himself to think about what might have happened to her in Jinlintai. He had seen the Dafan Wen hanging by nooses in a row along the wall of Nightless City, seen Wen Qing’s ashes scattered in the wind, and but to have seen her agony before she fell lifeless—the claws of flames, white skin seared red, spine-chilling screams—

Jiang Cheng had held A-Jie in his arms as she died, but at least she hadn’t screamed. At least she hadn’t writhed in pain. She had just quietly turned cold and motionless…

A soft whimper in front of him, and Jiang Cheng realizes that Wen Ning has started speaking again. He makes noises that don’t sound much like words until finally he whispers, “She never looked at me.”

Jiang Cheng suddenly finds it hard to breathe.

“I…I g-guess she thought that if she didn’t look at me, it wouldn’t hurt me as much. But—” He grips his sleeves tight, stretching the fabric as his hands begin to shake. “But I wanted her to look at me. And now when I sleep, I keep—I keep dreaming about it, but even in the dreams she never…n-never…”

The forest fades away.

A-Jie is limp in Jiang Cheng’s arms.

Bloody. Trembling.

Pulling her hand out of Jiang Cheng’s grasp, reaching one last time for Wei Wuxian.

She never looked at Jiang Cheng while she died.

The nightmare of A-Jie’s death has returned to him over and over, lurking in the depths of his grief and slithering into his dreams on nights he was already close to breaking.

But no matter how many times the nightmare repeats, A-Jie still never looks at him.

Jiang Cheng’s eyes feel like they might be wet, but his body seems separate from himself, distant. He sits closer to Wen Ning without being sure of how he gets there, without fully feeling the sensations of shifting his weight or pressing his hands into the grass or letting his breath become unsteady.

He wonders how Wen Ning was able to fall asleep here. If he does not need to sleep, why would he try, knowing what he would dream about?

But Jiang Cheng does not ask.

As they sit there at the bank of the creek, watching the water trickle along and catch the moonlight, the memories fade as if washed away by the stream. Wen Ning’s presence beside him, steady and motionless and slumped over slightly, is almost…comforting. It’s nice to have someone to sit next to.

His mind wanders to the list of Wen Ning’s daily activities in the Cloud Recesses. Despite all the chores and organizing, his life here sounds peaceful. Relaxed.

But why does Wen Ning only perform the jobs of an errand boy?

Jiang Cheng has seen him on night hunts, seen him step forward from the shadows and instantly eliminate danger with his strength and cleverness. And now Jiang Cheng has also seen the small collection of herbs Wen Ning grows in his cabin and uses to recreate lost medicines.

Yet to the Cloud Recesses, he is just an errand boy.

Doesn’t he have...more to offer than that?

The conversation Jiang Cheng overheard between Lan Sizhui and Lan Jingyi makes more sense now. Wen Ning acts differently while on night hunts than while in the Cloud Recesses because on night hunts, he is useful. In the Cloud Recesses, what difference is there between him and any ordinary servant?

Especially if Lan Sizhui is always busy training, and Wei Wuxian…he has his own issues to work through with Wei Wuxian.

“Do you want to be here?” Jiang Cheng finds himself asking.

Wen Ning must have been lost in thoughts of his own, because he tenses, startled. “What do you mean?”

“The Cloud Recesses.” He gestures around vaguely. “Where else?”

Wen Ning is slow to answer. “Yes. A-Yuan is here.”

A small bit of jealousy nips at Jiang Cheng, knowing that Wen Ning can live in the same place as the last member of his family. Jiang Cheng does not think he would answer differently himself.

“If you could go somewhere else, where would you go?”

“Tanzhou,” Wen Ning says without hesitation.

Tanzhou. The city south of Yunmeng with all the gardens. A quick glance at the array of herbs on the windowsill is enough to make it obvious that Wen Ning likes plants, but that doesn’t seem like a reason compelling enough for him to be so sure of his destination, as if he has thought about this question daily.

“Why there?”

“I heard that Song-daozhang is staying there for a while. I…I’d like to talk to him.” To talk to someone like me, is what goes unsaid.

A sinking feeling grips Jiang Cheng.

Song Lan would understand Wen Ning much better than Jiang Cheng ever could.

There are probably many others who could understand Wen Ning better. Who could help him heal. Who could give him something.

As soon as Jiang Cheng recognizes the thought in himself, he tries to stamp it away, but it persists. He shoves it down enough to continue speaking. “You should go to Tanzhou before Song Lan leaves.”

“But—"

“Why wouldn’t you?” Jiang Cheng scowls at him. “Don’t tell me you like this white-robed hellhole.”

“But A-Yuan…”

Jiang Cheng sighs. “He’ll be fine without you. He has Wei Wuxian and the entire Lan Clan to look after him.”

His own words nearly make him laugh with spite at himself. Who is he to speak like this? He still stalks A-Ling on night hunts, still worries about him every day, still feels like every moment with A-Ling is not enough, because one day he could be gone.

But a trip away from the Cloud Recesses would be good for Wen Ning. If he has thought so much about meeting Song Lan…he should go.

“It isn’t that far of a journey,” Jiang Cheng says. “You could come back to the Cloud Recesses whenever you’re finished.

Wen Ning tilts his head and stares into the water. “Maybe…maybe I’ll go, then.”

“Stop in Lotus Pier on your way there.”

Wen Ning looks up in shock.

It takes a moment for Jiang Cheng to realize what he said.

Fuck, fuck, fuck—

Heat rises to his face. He stands up, tries to put distance between himself and Wen Ning. He needs to cover for himself—needs an excuse—“Well, look at yourself! You can barely control your resentful energy! You think I’m going to let you pass through Yunmeng unsupervised?”

“I can—I can just travel south of Yunmeng—”

“I’m not letting you pass through the neighboring territories unsupervised either!”

“O-Okay.”

They freeze like that, Jiang Cheng blushing and clenching his fists like an idiot, and Wen Ning sitting on the ground and staring up at him with round eyes.

When Jiang Cheng finally gets his voice to work, it sounds unsure and creaky, like a rusted metal hinge. “Then you’ll come to Lotus Pier with me when I leave tomorrow morning.”

Wen Ning blinks. “Okay.”

“Alright.” Jiang Cheng takes a step back. “I’m—I’m going to my cabin now.”

“Okay.”

“Goodnight.”

“…Y-Yes.”

Jiang Cheng turns and walks up the path until he is out of Wen Ning’s sight, then races to his cabin. He doesn’t slow down until the door is shut behind him, and even then his heart is still pounding.

He mindlessly follows his nighttime routine in an attempt to calm his nerves. His muscles ache when he climbs into bed for another futile attempt at sleep. He has no idea what time it is. Sunrise could be in as soon as an hour, and then he will already be taking Wen Ning with him to Lotus Pier.

He is taking Wen Ning with him to Lotus Pier.

He flips onto his stomach and tries to sink into the mattress, hoping the pressure will stifle the bizarre tingling in his chest. Flips onto his back and rubs between his eyes.

What the hell did I just do?

* * *

Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this chapter, you can be a supportive sibling like Jiang Yanli by visiting me on AO3!

Ch. 4 >

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25 notes · View notes

culticunti · 4 years

Note

may i please get sasuke for the whole fluff alphabet? ty either way!

hi my love, thanks for stopping by! enjoy (o´ω`o)ﾉ

A... Affection - How do they show affection?

Sasuke isn’t very physically affectionate, and will even push you away at times. He shows affection through words, and through sitting down with you at the end of the day, watching the dying embers of the fire, and pouring his soul out in words that are spoken too softly for their heavy meanings.

B... Babe - What kind of nicknames do they give you?

He’s not one for nicknames, but he does indulge in the occasional “babe” or “Honey”. Mostly, though, he calls you by your name, but for some reason when he says your name, it might as well be a pet name from the way it makes the butterflies in your stomach do laps.

C... Coddle - How differently do they treat you in a relationship/out of a relationship?

Outside of a relationship, Sasuke is very stoic. There’s always people begging and pleading for his attention, yet he’s always only had eyes for you. In a relationship, he’s much less stoic, but he still tries to keep his distance to avoid getting too emotionally attached. ( That doesn’t work, of course, but let’s let the poor man have one thing. )

D... Daddy - Do they get along with your parents?

Your parents absolutely adore Sasuke! When he’s away from the public eye, he’s so courteous that he practically had your parents begging you to marry him from the first time they meet him.

E... Earful - How talkative are they about your relationship with other people?

Sasuke is relatively quiet about your relationship, though sometimes he’ll talk to Kakashi about how happy he is that you’re in his life. He can’t help but let a look of pure bliss slip onto his features, eyes crinkling and a light flush covering his cheeks, which rewards him with nothing less than a wide-eyed look from his former Sensei.

F... Flaunt - Do they brag about you?

Sasuke brags about you to the people who approach him to ask for a date. He'll probably say that he already has a partner that he has no intention of leaving, and his lips will curl on satisfaction when the group crowding him disperses.

G... Gifts - Do they spoil you?

Absolutely. Sasuke tries to compensate for his lackluster physical affection by buying you everything that you show even the slightest interest in. At first, it was suspicious, and you began to think that he wanted something from you, that he was trying to ask for through gifts. But no, he simply enjoys watching the joy on your face when you receive something you've been waiting for.

H... Heartfelt - How do they compliment you?

His compliments are soft-spoken, almost inaudible, and if you weren't paying attention, you'd miss it entirely. His words are so achingly full of emotion that he gets choked up on them, reaching out a shaky hand to brush a strand of hair out of your face.

I... Intuitive - How easily can they read your emotions and comfort you?

Sasuke may seem emotionally constipated, but he’s anything but unaware. He can read your emotions like an open book, pages laid out and sorrows so plainly obvious to him that he can’t help but try to reach out with shy, comforting touches.

J... Jealousy - How easily do they get jealous over you? vice versa?

Sasuke attracts the attention of a ton of people, and you can’t help but be jealous. You knew none of the people who approached him had even a sliver of a chance with him, but you couldn’t help your heart racing and your face glowing in embarrassment as people who adored him looked at you like you were nothing but scum.

Sasuke was very overprotective of you, if not a little obsessive. Any man or woman who gave you even so much as a second glance was struck with Sasuke’s heated glare that seemed to strike their hearts as it sent shivers up their spines.

K... Kisses - Where is their favorite place to smooch you?

Sasuke isn’t the type to beat around the bush. He loves to kiss you out of nowhere, lips always tasting like some variety to juice. Full and greedy, his usual appetite doesn’t even compare to how constantly starved his lips felt against yours, like a starving man hungry for food.

L... Lonely - How attached to you are they?

He’d never admit it, but Sasuke simply can’t live without you. On any given day, he’d lay down his life for you, but at the same time, he still tells you to stay on your side of the bed. ( Even if this never works, and you always wake up with a Uchiha pressed into the crook of your neck. )

M... Mannerisms - What silly things do they do for your attention?

Sasuke almost reminded you of a cat, always curious and ever so push, but never in a blatant way. He’ll follow you around for hours, eyes never leaving the back of your head, silently trailing you like a predator stalking its prey, until you can’t take it anymore and ask him what his damn problem is.

A small smile creeps onto Sasuke’s lips as he laughs, wide smile and scrunched up eyes so contagious you can’t help but laugh along with him about his stupid antics.

N... Name Tag - Who’s name would they take after marriage?

Sasuke would keep his name, but it’s up to you to decide what to do with your last name. He loves you more than anything, and he’s not really bothered by the fact that your last name won’t be Uchiha, Sasuke is just happy to have you all to himself.

O... Oath - What promises have they made you?

A long time ago, when the two of you were all but children, Sasuke promised to marry you when the two of you were old enough, and not a single second later.

P... Provoke - What silly things do you do to get their attention?

It’s quite hard to piss your lover off, but you know how to do it in just the right way every single time. Your best ploy to date was subtle, yet effective, and it involved moving every single object in the house an inch or two to the left every single day until Sasuke noticed.

Q... Quiet - What are some things that they do that renders you speechless?

When the Sea breeze rustles his hair, salt flooding the air around the two of you, so dense you can practically taste it on the tip of your tongue. When he stares into the coastline, his frigid fingers weaved with your own, his eyes shining with unvoiced desire and hopefulness you’ve never seen directed at anything but yourself before. You can’t do anything but admire your lover as he has such an intimate moment with the sea, all you can do is stand witness to their holy matrimony.

R... Rapt - What part of you did they notice first?

It’s hard for Sasuke to remember his first time meeting you- you were only kids, after all, but the thing he appreciates the most about you is your honesty. He adores your sheer transparency about every topic, and your calm stature when faced with problems that may be even too big for you to handle.

S... Sour - What kind of candy do they like to share with you?

Sasuke loves bitter things, which you always joked was perfect for such a bitter man. Dark chocolate was a must-have in the (Last Name)-Uchiha household.

T... Truce - What’s one thing the two of you will never agree on?

Sasuke prefers sleeping on the left side of the bed, while you also prefer the left. The middle ground is sleeping on top of each other, of course, but after a few too many mornings waking up with kinks in your neck, you’ve collectively decided it was a battle neither of you could win.

U... Unconscious - What’s something they do around you without realizing it?

Sasuke has a bad habit of laying his hand on your thigh and mindlessly rubbing circles into it, his mind a thousand miles away and definitely not paying attention to the flush that carried from the tips of your ears down to your knees.

V... Vulnerable - What’s a topic that you should never bring up with them?

Naruto. Never speak of the man if you want your lover to speak to you for the rest of the month. Sasuke is very vocal about his dislikes for the two of you being on good terms. His reasons aren’t as shallow as you would think, though, he’s just worried that you’ll see something in Naruto that Sasuke just can’t compare to. For one thing, Naruto felt *alive*, his aura so welcoming and inviting that Sasuke simply couldn’t compare if his lover did leave him for his friend. ( Which - To clarify wouldn’t happen in a thousand years, but the poor man still worries. )

W... Weightless - What’s the happiest they’ve ever been around you?

Sasuke has honestly lost count of all the times that you’ve made him happy- for one thing, every morning that he wakes up to your relaxed face, his gaze softens and he runs a calloused thumb across your cheek, waking you up softly and with a tooth-rottingly sweet kiss.

X... Xanax- How do you calm them down?

When Sasuke is really, really, really mad, there’s no stopping him, but when he’s just plain angry, a careful hand slipped into his own and comforting words whispered in his ear calms him down almost immediately.

Y... Yearning - How often do they find themself thinking about you?

Sasuke has much more important things to do than think of his partner- is what he would say, if that wasn’t the biggest, fattest lie he’d ever tell. You never leave his mind, whenever he’s out in public without you he’s always daydreaming about what it would be like if you were here with him. Even if he appears present in the moment, his mind is a million miles away.

Z... Zzz - Do they fall asleep easily?

Sasuke has a hard time falling asleep on his own, but with you wrapped in his arms, he sleeps like a little kid. There's just something so relaxing about feeling your chest rise and fall in time with his own, his senses being filled with nothing but you, and knowing that you’re his and not going anywhere.

#sasuke x reader #sasuke uchiha #naruto #naruto x reader #fluff alphabet #fluff

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donteattheappleshook · 3 years

Text

She Came From the Water Chapter 6/?

Summary

Between his dissatisfying job, a constant battle to keep seeing his daughter, and a history of mistakes, losses, and broken dreams, Killian Jones has no place for magic in his life. But when he pulls in his fishing nets one evening only to find a woman caught in them, his life becomes infinitely more complicated. Is she a siren, a selkie, like his daughter believes, or just another lost soul like himself? Suddenly, his life is a thing of fairytales; beautiful women hidden away in cottages, selkie husbands coming back to claim them, and, just maybe, a chance at happily ever after.

A Captain Swan AU based on the film Ondine (2009) for the @captainswanmoviemarathon

Rated M for eventual smut.

I’m going to stop guessing at how long this fic is going to be.

Read it on Ao3 or Tumblr 1 2 3 4 5

Thank you so much @ultraluckycatnd for helping me through all my insecurities about this fic <3 you’re such a lovely beta and person <3

Big thank you as well to @elizabeethan @the-darkdragonfly and @xhookswenchx for letting me brainstorm out loud to you!

Finally thank you to @itsfabianadocarmo for this lovely aesthetic that made me start writing this fic again.

****

Part 6

"Someone’s here."

She looks outside again and Killian tenses. Nobody ever comes out here. Not unannounced. “Go into the bedroom," he tells her, absentmindedly stroking her arm. "I’ll see who it is.”

He does his best to stay calm. Surely it’s David or Mary Margaret come to say hello. They just forgot to call. But he can’t shake the feeling that her past has finally shown up, that someone has come to break apart this little world they’ve created for themselves over the last three days and he grieves it already.

Once she’s shut the door to the bedroom, Killian heads across the kitchen. He can hear it now, someone coming up the drive, steps light and quick like someone sneaking up, trying to avoid being seen. He opens the door, stepping outside in an attempt to keep whoever it is from coming in when suddenly the mystery visitor ducks out from the treeline. He lets out a sigh of relief.

“Alice,” he calls and her head snaps up. “What are you doing here? You know you’re not allowed to come without your mum’s permission.” The words burn in his throat as they do every time he has to say them, every time Alice disregards the custody rules set in place.

“Mum’s not home,” she shrugs. “Besides, I wanted to hear the rest of the story. Did she get her memories back?” Alice continues, ducking right under his arm and into the house behind him. He whirls around. His daughter might not be a threat or someone from Swan’s past coming to take her away, but she doesn’t want to be seen.

“Alice, wait,” he starts but she’s already headed into the kitchen and dragged a chair to the counter so she can boost herself up and reach the cabinet. She beams when she finds the Poptarts. She’s climbing down and ripping into the bag before he’s even reached her so he can make sure she doesn’t break her neck on the way. “Careful,” he warns but is, of course, ignored. She’s utterly unphased as he scoops her up under her arms to set her safely on the ground.

“So did she?” she asks again.

“Did she what? Who?” Killian’s head is spinning.

“The girl in the net,” Alice clarifies, rolling her eyes in exasperation. “Really Dad, isn’t this supposed to be your story.”

“Sweetheart, now isn’t a good time.”

“Why not?” she asks and just then the kettle goes off. Alice looks at it and then at the two mugs next to the stove. Killian casts a slightly frantic glance at his bedroom door and her gaze follows him. “Do you have a friend over?” she cocks her head. “Is Ruby visiting? Why is she hiding? Are you doing grown up things again?”

Killian is going to have a heart attack. “No,” he answers, hoping that Swan didn’t hear anything. “What are grown up things?”

“I don’t know. You said you’d only tell me when I was older.”

“Alice I-” The door creaks open and Swan pokes her head out. Killian whirls around, shocked, and wondering how much of the conversation she overheard. She smiles shyly and Killian looks between her and Alice, who beams. How is he going to explain-

“Hello,” his daughter says, setting down her snack and heading over to greet the woman now stepping out of his room.

“Hello,” Swan answers. Killian stares at them both, unsure what to do or say, worried that this will make the woman staying with him feel betrayed, that it will traumatize his child in some way. But neither of them seem particularly angry or prone to holding this over his head in therapy, so he hesitates.

“Um, Alice, this is Swan. She’s staying with me for a bit.”

“Oh, we’ve met,” Alice says. Killian’s eyes snap to Swan who nods, looking guilty. When had they met? Why had neither told him? Selkies. Suddenly it makes sense. “Oh, don’t be upset,” his daughter continues dismissively. “I asked her to keep it a secret.”

“Do you think you could keep me a secret?” Swan asks then, casting a glance at him, as though asking for permission. He nods. “I don’t want anyone to know I’m here.”

“Why not?” Alice asks, frowning. And then her eyes widen in understanding. “Of course! Because of your seal coat!” Both the adults look at her in confusion. “You wouldn’t want anyone to know you’re here if you can’t remember where you left your seal coat. They could trap you.”

She casts an uncertain glance at Killian. He doesn’t want to lie to Alice, but he also doesn’t believe that he’d be able to talk her out of her certainty about Swan being a selkie if he tried. He clears his throat, absentmindedly stroking the back of his daughter’s hair. “Right. So let’s not tell anyone just yet, okay, love?”

Alice nods. “I did some research you know,” she starts. “Selkies aren’t dangerous. They’re not like mermaids. They save sailors from drowning rather than pulling them under. Which is strange since in this case it’s you who was saved from drowning. Although, I don’t know if you can actually drown if you’re a seal-woman…”

She continues on, rattling off facts and theories and rambling and Killian casts a hopeless, affectionate glance at Swan who is watching his daughter with patient interest. Alice has it backwards; he might have been the one who pulled her from the water, but it was he who’d been drowning. She’s reached through all the misery and the darkness he’d let himself surrender to and pulled him back to the surface, breathed air and life back into his lungs.

“And of course you can swim very fast and very long since you can breathe underwater,” Alice continues. “I wonder if you swim as fast as a seal? Although you were swimming without your seal coat. I don’t know what the rules are for a selkie in human form.” She frowns at Swan then. “Is it much much different? Swimming with human legs? It must be more difficult -”

“Do you swim, Alice?” she asks then and Alice shakes her head.

“No. I’ve never had lessons. And Dad can’t teach me.” Killian glances awkwardly at his feet and shrugs when Swan looks at him in surprise. But she doesn’t pry. Instead, she turns back to his daughter.

“Would you like to learn?” she asks. “... Unless you’re afraid of the water,” she suggests when Alice hesitates and there’s no challenge in her voice, no taunt, just understanding, like maybe she understands that fear.

“I wouldn’t be afraid of the water if I had a sea creature with me,” the girl beams and Swan returns it.

“I can teach you. If it’s okay with your dad.”

Killian had been watching the interaction between the two in stunned disbelief. The way she’s watching Swan, with awe and admiration and enchantment, he’s never seen Alice so taken with anyone in his life. He wonders if everyone who meets her instantly falls in love with her or if it’s just Joneses.

“Aye. It’s alright with me. But won’t you be cold?”

“It’s not that cold!” Alice insists and he can already see that there’s a tantrum brewing under the surface if he dares to deny her the chance to swim with a sea creature.

He tries to hide his smirk. “Alright, but the second your lips turn blue we’re coming in.”

He doesn’t think she’ll last very long. While the wind is mild today the water was still cold against his skin. No harm in a few minutes in the sea, he reasons, children here grow up with the cold in their blood and the water in their veins. He likes the idea of Alice learning to swim; he thinks he’ll sleep better knowing he doesn’t have to worry about her every time she wades out too far or is on the boat with him.

Swan reaches out and Alice takes her hand and the two head off out the door towards the shore. They’re still on the steps when Swan turns back to him. “Aren’t you coming?” she asks, as though it should have been obvious that he was invited. He’d assumed this was girl-bonding. He smiles, happy to be included.

It’s not until they reach the water and Alice kicks off her shoes and socks, dipping her toes in the chilly water that she turns to them both in panic. “I don’t have a swimsuit!” she realises.

“That’s alright. Neither do I,” Swan consoles her.

“What will we wear then?”

Swan considers this for a moment and then shrugs. “Underwear,” she tells her and then pulls her dress off over her head.

Killian’s mind suddenly goes blank, every thought and sound drowned out by the racing of his heart as his eyes cast over the long lines of her legs. His jaw drops, in shock, in awe, in disbelief. He watches the way her hair falls softly over the curve of her back, every smooth, pale inch of her on display and beautiful under his gaze, smile bright and shining as she laughs. She can’t be real.

It’s only when she turns to look at him, and her smile falters a little with curiosity, lip catching between her teeth, that he realises he’s staring. He’s suddenly far too aware of his limbs, feeling awkward and clumsy and like he’s taking up far too much space.

He darts his eyes away, staring fixedly out at the horizon as he tries to calm his racing heart. He squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head as discreetly as he can to try to clear it. But he can’t get the image of her out of his mind.

He tries to focus on Alice as the two of them wade out into the water, his daughter letting out a shrieking giggle when the cold reaches her knees, her fingers white knuckled against the woman’s. Killian’s certain that if he just stays right here and doesn’t move, doesn’t let his gaze stray from the spot right in front of his feet, that he can get through this without making a fool of himself.

“Aren’t you coming in, Dad?” Alice calls and the blood drains from his face.

“It wouldn’t hurt you to learn too!” He glances over at them and Swan throws a look at him, the challenge in it raised with her brow.

He’d really, really rather not. He can barely handle the effect this woman has on him with all her clothes on. But he notices again the way Alice is clutching her hand, the slight nervousness to her posture despite her incessant bravery and he knows he has to. He kicks off his boots and his socks and leaves them on the shore before wading out after them. As soon as he reaches Alice, she clings tightly to his hand.

“You swim with all your clothes on?” Swan teases and he smirks.

“I don’t swim.” She rolls her eyes, clearly not letting him off so easily. “Little girls and selkies might not get cold, but fishermen do.” She laughs and, as the water reaches his hips and shoots ice up his spine, he’s glad he’ll have at least one less thing to worry about.

“Too bad.” She says it so softly he almost doesn’t hear it but his gaze snaps to hers, eyes wide. She’s focused on Alice now, asking if she’s feeling scared, and he wonders if he imagined it.

“Okay, lie back,” she instructs and lets go of the little girl’s hand so that she can brace one arm under her shoulders and one under her legs, Alice squishing his fingers between both of her hands. “You’re doing great,” Swan encourages even as his daughter flounders a little nervously, letting herself be held up. After a long moment, she finally lets go of his hand and tentatively trails her arms through the water, toes kicking gently and untested.

“I’m swimming!” she exclaims, nervous laughter bubbling out of her and Killian grins at her proudly.

“You are!” Swan agrees proudly. “Look at you go, you’re a sea creature!”

“You’re a natural, love,” he smiles at her. The two of them wade out a little further, Swan guiding the girl in circles, always holding her steady as she gets the hang of floating and he watches, amazed by how taken Alice is and how taken Swan seems to be as well. He’s never even dreamed of letting a woman into his life, not when that life includes Alice and he doesn’t even know if there’s room for someone else in his heart. But seeing them together, he can’t get over how perfectly she fits, or how much he likes it.

Suddenly, Swan stops, gaze darting down to her foot beneath the waves and he worries she’s maybe cut herself on a rock. She continues to stare, brow furrowing further as she shifts her feet under her. He can see the anxiety building in her and he comes towards them, calling her name softly in question.

“Go to your dad for a second,” she says quickly and Alice must sense her change in mood because she practically leaps across the small space into his arms. He hoists her out of the water and onto his hip just as Swan takes a deep, gasping breath and dives down beneath it. She’s under for a long moment, just long enough that Killian fears he may have to go after her, but panics knowing he can’t do so with Alice out this deep.

Finally, she breaks the surface, swallowing air in heavy swallows and the relief washes over him so forcefully that he’s made dizzy for a moment. She’s clutching something. It’s dark and leathery and covered in moss and seaweed.

“What’s that?” Alice asks and Swan stares hard at it.

“I don’t know. Just… something I found.”

Her eyes go wide suddenly. “Is it your seal-coat?” she asks excitedly.

“Maybe.” Her voice sounds far away.

“Are you going to bury it?”

Swan looks at them then for the first time since before she dove under the water, uncertain. But as her gaze turns to Alice, her expression softens, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Should I?”

“Yes. Then you could stay for seven years.”

Her smile softens even more. “Would you like that?” Killian can’t help the way his breath catches when her eyes flit to his beneath her lashes.

“Very much.” He hopes she knows, even if he can’t say it, how much he’d like it too.

She clutches the leather and weeds to her chest. “Well then, I guess we better bury it.”

Killian carries his daughter back to shore, Swan following closely behind them. Alice goes on at length without need for an audience about how and where they should hide the ‘seal coat’. Every time he glances back at the woman trailing in their wake, she’s fixated on the item in her hands, her expression unreadable.

It can’t be her seal coat. That would be impossible, ludicrous, the stuff of fairytales. He appreciates that she’s doing this for Alice, letting her play make believe, indulging her games and fantasies. But the way she’s staring at the waterlogged bundle, like it’s something overwhelming and terrifying and familiar... it makes him doubt everything he believes.

Maybe she is a selkie. Maybe she did swim here to escape a selkie husband and wind up in his net and in his life. All he knows is fairytale or not, figurative or not, her burying it means something. ‘Would you like that?’ she’d asked. She didn’t have to ask. If she wants to stay, seven years or a hundred, he won’t send her away.

When they reach shore, Alice wiggles her way out of his arms and, after a small battle over the fact that she had to put her jeans and sweater back on (which she only agreed to when she saw that Swan was dressing as well), she begins leading them off back towards the house.

“Where are we burying it?” Swan asks, still clutching it carefully.

“I know the perfect place!” Alice insists.

Killian watches the woman carefully. Every now and then her eyes dart out around her, like she’s expecting someone or something, like she’s being watched. He tries to settle the chill in his bones, the worry that something is coming, that it’s on it’s way now to take her away and ruin this. He fears it; he can’t lose her, not yet. He hasn’t had enough time. He’ll never have enough time.

Alice runs off ahead of them, disappearing around the back of the cottage. He doesn’t worry. She’s spent years getting lost and found on the grounds and the cliffs and the woods around his home. She knows every inch. When he looks to Swan again she’s frowning, gnawing at her lip as her fingers scratch at the moss and the mud that cover her package.

He reaches out, fingers brushing gently along her spine, hesitant in his desire to comfort her. She glances up at him, snapped out of whatever train of thought she’d gotten lost in for a little while. He knows the feeling well.

“Are you alright?” he asks, fingertips still barely touching the dampness of her dress, droplets falling from her hair and onto his knuckles. She watches him for a moment. They’ve stopped walking. He can’t make out her expression. She looks torn, pained and confused and so lost and he wants to help, but he doesn’t know how.

Her eyes are uncertain as she looks down at the would-be seal coat and then back at him. “I -”

“Come on!” Alice shouts and her mouth snaps shut. Killian turns to wave at his daughter who rolls her eyes in exasperation, waiting with arms crossed. When he looks back at the woman beside him the helpless expression is gone, hidden behind some wall he doesn’t know if he can climb.

“Swan?”

She smiles, bright and shining and a lie. “I’m fine. Let’s go,” she insists, heading off after Alice and leaving him no choice but to follow.

They find her in the greenhouse, an old, broken down thing that had been here when they bought the cottage and that his mother had always meant to turn into something beautiful. She’d run out of time though, and while Killian once swore to himself that he’d finish it for her, the decaying wood of the foundation speaks of his empty promises and forgotten good intentions.

Swan looks around in wonder, eyes wide and mouth agape as she takes in the overgrown structure. Nature has overtaken it, moss and weeds and late season flowers climbing along the beams and covering the cracked stone floor. “It’s beautiful,” she breathes, gazing up at the canopy of leaves that wind around the remains of the ceiling, some trickling down so low that she reaches out to brush them with her fingertips.

He’s taken in by the sight of her, by the way she finds beauty in the things he’s grown to loath and makes them magical. It’s as though the light she carries flows from her hands and into the room itself, turning the dark and shaded ruins into something wonderful. Strange and wonderful, like everything about her. He wonders if this is how Alice sees the world, remembers what it was like to see adventure and magic where others saw nothing. Perhaps he could see it this way again some day, or maybe it’s enough to surround himself with those who do.

“Over here,” Alice calls and they both follow her to the far end of the structure. She’s trying to get a piece of cracked stone loose, the floor crumbling beneath them.

“Here, let me,” he insists and kneels down to pry it free before she hurts herself. The rock lifts fairly easily, revealing soft, damp earth beneath it and Alice grins.

“Right here,” she says, kneeling down beside him and beginning to dig.

Swan finally sets down her burden and joins them on the ground, fingers sinking deep into the soil as she helps Alice dig. She looks at him, brow raised meaningfully and nodding at the ever growing hole. He shakes his head, laughing but complies, scooping mud and dirt and worms until it’s deep enough and she stands, picking up the bundle and setting it carefully inside. He’s never seen Alice so excited, and that’s saying something.

“Will we remember where it is?” Swan asks as they pile dirt over it. “In seven years?”

“Should we mark it?” Killian asks, trying to remember if he grabbed his pocket knife or left it on the boat. “We could put something in the wood.”

“No, that’s too obvious,” Alice shakes her head. “Someone could find it!”

Swan bites back a smile and turns to him. “Yeah, come on, Killian,” she sighs with a smirk. “Way too obvious.” He raises a brow at her, a disbelieving grin pulling at his lips. Is she teasing him?

“I know,” his daughter says, standing. She walks out where the back door would have been, feet carefully placed one in front of the other until she reaches a giant oak tree that’s been on the grounds longer than Killian’s been alive. She turns to them. “Seventeen steps to the fairy tree.”

“Brilliant,” he tells her and she looks very proud of herself. He doesn’t bother to question the fact that her feet will grow; he doubts she’ll remember this in seven years time. By then she’ll be too grown up, so for now he lets her believe in magic, hopes she continues to for as long as possible.

“Thank you, Alice,” Swan says, taking her hand when the girl returns to them.

“Now your selkie husband can’t make you go back!”

“I have a husband?” she asks.

“Of course. All selkies do. But now he can’t make you go back to the water for seven years. Not so long as your coat is hidden.” The excitement in his daughter’s eyes is unparalleled and he hates to break this up, but a glance at his watch tells him they need to get going. Alice needs to be home when her mother returns, and he still needs to go to the fishery.

“Time to get you home, love.”

“Dad, no,” she starts to whine and while it tugs at his heart that she wants to stay, he knows she can’t.

“Come on, your mum will start to worry.” She won’t. He knows that. She probably won’t even notice Alice is late or gone - who knows where Eloise is anyway - but if she finds out that Alice was here, she’ll make them both suffer for it and he won’t have her keeping his daughter from him any more than she already does.

“Do I still get to come this weekend?” she asks, stepping back as though she’ll refuse to leave unless he promises.

“Aye,” he smiles. “For the whole weekend.” Only then does she begrudgingly agree to come with him. The three of them head back out to the cottage, Swan sitting on the front steps and saying goodbye to Alice, saying she hopes she’ll see her soon.

“Will you still be here Saturday?”

Swan looks at him quickly before answering. He only gives her a hopeful smile. “Yes,” she promises and he has to duck his head to hide his pleased grin.

“Okay,” Alice agrees and then heads towards his extended hand. She’s only about halfway there when she stops. She turns suddenly, rushing towards Swan and wrapping her arms around her neck in a fierce hug.

The woman looks stunned for a second, thrown back by the force of the small girl crashing into her, but then she smiles, eyes almost watery as she squeezes her back. Alice whispers something in her ear that he can’t hear and he won’t ask about. Let them have their secrets. One more kind woman in his daughter’s life is not a gift he takes lightly.

Alice hangs on to his hand for longer than normal on their walk home, regaling him with tales of selkies and what exactly it means to bury her seal coat. He raises an eyebrow at some of the things she tells him she’s read in the books she found at the library, really hoping she doesn’t actually understand some of the stories about women and male selkie lovers.

“Why seven years?” he asks and she rolls her eyes.

“Because those are the rules. If she buries her seal coat she can stay for seven years. But burying it just means she has to stay. She can stay if she wants to. Unless her husband decides he wants to take her back. That’s why we had to make sure it was hidden. If he finds it, he’ll take her away.” There’s a hint of heartbreak in her eyes.

“Then I guess it’s a good thing we hid it so well,” he says, squeezing her hand and her smile is back.

“You know, Dad,” she says when they’ve been walking a little while. He looks down at her. “Sometimes selkies do stay on land forever. They say that selkies can often find happiness with a…” she frowns, certainly trying to remember whatever book she’s quoting. “A landsman! That’s it. Selkies can often find unexpected happiness with a landsman.”

“Is that so?” he asks, deliberately not acknowledging her meaningful look.

“Do you think Swan will stay?” she presses.

“I don’t know, love. That’s her choice.”

“I think she will. I think she likes it here. Maybe you can marry her and then she can stay forever.”

Killian winces, not ready to get into why he can’t go marrying a woman with no memory who he’s only met three days ago. Especially when even now the thought makes him smile. “Alice…” he starts.

“Why not?” she asks, more to herself. “It makes sense. She’s already living with you, and she likes you.”

“You think she likes me?” he asks before he can stop himself and regretting it the moment he says it. Alice gives him a sly grin. Killian clears his throat, making a point to sound less excited this time. “What makes you think she wants to stay?”

“She could have taken her seal coat and left.”

He knows it’s not a seal coat. He knows she’s not obligated to stay for seven years because she hid it in his greenhouse. But he can’t help but hope when he thinks of the way she looked at him when she said they should bury it. It felt like a promise. Maybe not a promise, but the suggestion of one at least.

“Besides,” Alice says, breaking him from his thoughts. “I’m not oblivious, you know. I’m seven. I know things.”

***

Please let me know if you want to be added to the tag list! Or removed, I won’t take offence!

@kmomof4 @snowbellewells @teamhook @resident-of-storybrooke @stahlop @hollyethecurious @artistic-writer @gingerchangeling @bubblegum1425 @jackieorioncat @darkcolinodonorgasm @xhookswenchx @lfh1226-linda @searchingwardrobes @winterbaby89 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @xsajx @thejollyroger-writer @elizabeethan @carpedzem @spartanguard @tiganasummertree @demisexualemmaswan @itsfabianadocarmo @courtorderedcake @the-darkdragonfly @ouatpost @ultraluckycatnd @sailtoafarawayland @zaharadessert @allons-y-to-hogwarts-713

#she came from the water #captain swan #cs fanfiction #captain swan fanfiction #cs au #captain swan au #cs ff #cs fanfic #ondine 2009 #captain swan movie marathon

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marvelousstevetony · 3 years

Note

Hi! If you’re taking prompts, can you maybe do insecure tony for stony? I was just thinking about tony always stifling sneezes because his normal sneeze is insanely cute but he doesn’t want Steve or the team to know? But then they find out when tony has a cold or something and can’t stifle at some point? Thank you for your writing also :)

This is... so old, anon, I’m so sorry. Life has been crazy busy these last few weeks. I combined this ask with another anon requesting “vulnerable” for stony (which I’m also very late to answer, sorry!)

I hope you both see this anyway and enjoy despite it being so late.

(2.5k of sick Tony, cuddles, and everything in between)

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“h’ehh… uhNGxxt! ehhh’mPTChh!”

Tony pinches his nose between his thumb and index finger, head bopping slightly forward with the force of the sneezes.

“Bless you, Tones.” Steve glances up from the debrief forms and watches the way Tony’s rubbing mercilessly at his twitching nostrils. His eyes are half-lidded, mouth hanging slightly agape as he waits for the sneeze to come, however, after a few seconds, it seems to escape, and Tony is left sniffling into his wrist.

“Sorry… thanks,” he replies, and Steve swears he can see Tony’s cheeks color immediately after Steve pulls out his handkerchief and offers it to him. Tony shakes his head, though, but his soft smile tells Steve that he’s grateful for the offer even though he declines.

Steve goes back to looking over the forms while sipping his coffee. They’ve been at it for a while, and Steve’s tired, so he downs the caffeinated drink mindlessly despite its ineffectiveness. Tony says it’s a mental thing as much as it is physiologically, and it seems to have become a habitual thing for him since they started dating. Even though Steve doesn’t particularly like the taste, he finds that he’ll always drink the coffee as long as Tony’s there.

He narrows he eyes, concentrating on reading the words, but his head’s suddenly swimming, and he lets his eyes slip shut for a few moments until his hearing picks up a choked noise, and he looks up to see Tony stifling another bout of near-silent sneezes into the shoulder of his white button-up.

Tony looks adorable like this, Steve thinks, nose all scrunched up and eyebrows drawn together into a confused frown. He also looks tired, Steve notices, as tired as Steve feels. He throws a quick glances over the papers that are scattered all over the table, then up at his boyfriends who’s now scrubbing at his nose with a bent index finger, and catches his lower lips between his teeth as he decides that they’re done for the day.

“Hey,” Steve says as he gets up and goes to stand behind Tony, leaning down to rest his chin on Tony’s shoulder.

“Hey,” Tony echoes and turns on the chair, now facing Steve with a warm, yet sleepy, smile, which is immediately returned.

“You think it’s time to finish up here, yeah?” Steve ask softly, caressing Tony’s cheek as he says it. They feel a little warm, and now that Steve gets a closer look, he can tell that there’s a slight flush to them, and to his nose as well. It could be because he’s just tired, that happens to Steve sometimes, but Steve’s 99 percent sure that Tony probably needs rest because he’s both spent, overworked and, from the looks (and sounds) of it, coming down with a cold.

Tony leans in to the gentle touch for a second, then closes his eyes and nods. “I can’t even tell you how long snf! I’ve been waiting to hear you say that.” It almost comes out as a sigh, breathy and relieved, and Steve could feel the way Tony’s jaw unclenched in his hand.

“So… dinner in bed?” Steve carefully slips off Tony’s glasses and places them on the table, then strokes a thumb under Tony’s eye, tracing along the indistinct line the glasses had imprinted onto his skin. “I think an early night would do us good,” Steve adds and leans in his brush his nose against Tony’s.

Tony pulls away slightly, even the softest touch making him sniffle madly. He draws in a few quavering breaths and leans away from Steve before crushing a small fit of sneezes into his fist.

“Hdt’mpshh! hH’NGSXT! N’GKt! snffSNFF! Sorry,” Tony rasps as the fit subsides.

“God bless you, sweetheart,” Steve says, voice drowning in sympathy. “Dinner in bed?” he asks again.

“We don’t have to, snff! We can do dinner at the table,” Tony assures, frowning.

Steve smiles warmly. “I know… It was mostly because I feel like I could fall asleep right here on the floor,” he chuckles. “But I do believe it’d be good for both of us.”

“Yeah, I- I guess so,” Tony exhales. “I really can’t be bothered to cook dinner, though.”

“I’ll do dinner,” Steve offers. “You can take a shower and get into bed.”

Tony pouts at that. “The can’t be bothered to cook dinner was mostly because it would mean we’d have less time to cuddle. You doing dinner doesn’t change that, Steve, I’ll still need my favorite pillow.”

Steve shakes his head and laughs fondly. “Thirty minutes tops. I promise.”

Tony narrows his eyes at Steve, then smirks. “Twenty.”

———

Steve arrives with dinner exactly 21 minutes and 15 seconds later.

“You’re late,” Tony states, looking at his wrist as if he was wearing a watch.

“Oh, shush, you,” Steve says as he settles the tray on the bed. “You’re not even wearing a watch.”

“JARVIS keeps track of the time,” Tony clarifies. “Although, I think you’re forgiven. This looks amazing, Steve.” Tony reaches out to grab the plate and puts it in his lap.

“Anyone can cook pasta, Tony. Even Clint,” Steve shrugs.

“But your pasta is actually good,” Tony says. “And I’m Italian, I’m a tough critic to please,” he adds as he swallows a mouthful of creamy spaghetti.

Steve, as always, brushes off the compliment and ducks his head with a shy smile. He joins Tony under the comforter, scooting closer to his boyfriend until he’s near enough to rest his chin on top of Tony’s head. He doesn’t even remember letting his eyes slip shut, but they do, slowly. He’s right on the verge of nodding off, but suddenly he feels something being removed from under his chin, and his head falls forward, waking him with a start. It’s Tony’s head that’s missing, Steve realizes.

Beside him, Tony’s body jerks slightly forward as he pinches his nose with two fingers. His eyes are squeezed shut, shoulders hunched, as he draws in a short breath and stifles another near-silent sneeze.

“ng’tCHh!”

“Bless you,” Steve croaks, his voice already rusty from almost sleeping. He grabs a few tissues from the nightstand and places them in Tony’s hand.

Tony accepts the Kleenex and brings it right up to his nose. “uhhGxxt’ch! ehhk’NGxt!”

“Let yourself sneeze, babe. Sounds like it hurts…” Steve mumbles as he settles back in close to Tony. He doesn’t even hear Tony’s response, because his eyelids are just so heavy, and the comforter is warm, and within a few seconds, Steve is out like a light.

————

When Steve wakes up, his face is smushed into the pillow. He sighs deeply into it before propping himself up on his elbows and scrubs at his face with both palms to clear away the sleepy haze. His naked back is half covered by the linen sheet, half uncovered, fair skin glowing from the sleep-warm heat. He must’ve taken his t-shirt off at some point during the night, which seems unusual. He’s normally always cold in the night and has to cuddle in close to Tony to get warm.

Steve looks to his right and watches Tony’s relaxed facial expression. He looks so peaceful and innocent that Steve can’t help the flush creeping up his cheeks or the soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Adoration and affection surge through him as he takes in the view of his boyfriend.

Tony is lying on his side, face turned towards Steve. His lips are barely parted, just enough to breathe in through his mouth. They look so soft, though, Steve thinks, irresistible, really, and Steve… Well, Steve feels it would be a crime not to kiss them when they are that pink and plump and perfect.

He leans down and catches Tony’s bottom lip between both of his. The kiss is gentle and sweet and the dazed feeling lingers even after he’s pulled away. It tingles in every inch of Steve body; the urge to run his fingers over Tony’s cheek, to brush a hand through the soft curls, and, somehow, Steve knows that this is what he wants every morning. He wants their sleep-warm bodies pressed close to each other. He wants the first thing he sees when he wakes up to be Tony’s messy hair and half-open mouth. He wants the domesticity and the pure bliss of waking up with he person he loves more than anything else.

The thoughts make tears prickle behind Steve’s eyes, and he probably would’ve teared up if Tony didn’t begin stirring just then.

Tony blinks his eyes open, and he smirks when he sees Steve gazing at him with such fond and kind eyes. “Mornin’,” he croaks.

“Hey.” Steve smiles and brings his hand up to stroke Tony’s arm through the soft t-shirt he slept in. “Sleep well?”

“I think so… or, I don’t know,” Tony amends. “I’m still so tired.” He closes his eyes and nuzzles closer to Steve, who now realizes why he’d overheated while they slept.

“You feel warm,” Steve murmurs. “Are you alright?”

Tony huffs. “‘M fine, Steve,” he mutters, voice muffled by the pillow. “Jus’ tired.”

Steve frowns and cups Tony’s cheek in his palm. “I think you’re running a slight temperature, sweetheart. ’S not too bad, but still…”

“I get hot when I sleep, tha-ahh-that’s w-why,” Tony tries, but it sounds unconvincing, even to him. It probably would have more believable if his breath hadn’t come in short gasps, and his nose hadn’t quivered violently as he said it.

Steve watches as Tony twists his head to face away from Steve. He doesn’t see the way Tony’s face undoubtedly crumbles with the sneezes, but the way his shoulders tense with the withheld sneezes is enough to make Steve’s heart ache in sympathy.

“ehh-NgHTsshx! Hng-tsxx! HNgx! SnfSNFF!” Tony sniffles a few times, then groans. When he turns his head to face Steve again, his eyes are squeezed shut and presses a hand to his temple. “Sorry, excuse me.”

“God bless,” Steve murmurs and removes Tony’s hand from his forehead and places his own there instead. He begins gently massaging Tony’s scalp, fingers rubbing along his hairline, and he carefully runs his thumb over one eyebrow.

Tony’s face is still pinched, nose wrinkling, and a few second later, he stifles a small Hngxsh! into the pillow. An almost inaudible whimper escapes through his lips, one that Steve probably wouldn’t have heard it if he didn’t have super-senses.

“Bless you,” Steve sympathizes. “Why do you keep doing that?”

“Doing what?” Tony asks, confused.

“Hold them back like that. It’s not good for you, it looks painful,” Steve winces at the mere thought of the stabbing pain stifling sneezes does to him, and he can’t imagine it hurts any less to Tony.

“Yeah, it’s… not great,” Tony agrees. “But I can’t help it, it’s a habit.” He shrugs and leaves it at that.

They’re quiet for a minute while Steve nestles closer to Tony and drapes an arm over his waist. They lay there, in silence, looking into each other’s eyes— until Tony draws in a breath and crushes his face into his shoulder.

“H’tsnghh! Sh-ihht ihhngxt! Ugh.”

“Tony,” Steve says disapprovingly, glaring at him.

“I’m not doing it on purpose, Steve,” Tony grumbles. “That’s just how I sneeze, I’ve done it since I was twenty. Twenty, Steve. You know how many years ago that is??”

Steve chuckles fondly at Tony’s self-deprecating joke. “And I thought I was the old one in this relationship,” he retorts with a quirk of an eyebrow.

“You are, but it’s still a long time… You know how hard it is to break a habit like that? It’s impossible,” Tony answers his own question.

Steve shakes his head and laughs again. “You’re ridiculous—“

“You love me.”

“and— I do love you, yes, but you really should stop trying to hold your sneezes back like that. It’ll give you a headache, and from the looks of it, it already has.”

Tony opens his mouth to protest, but nothing comes out. Instead, Tony sighs and deflates, which tells Steve that his suspicion was right. “Okay, yeah, a little maybe,” Tony admits with a small smile to show Steve that he is okay, even if his head is pounding and his nose is twitching, and he has to keep sniffling and rubbing at his poor nose to impede the horrible itch.

“I’m sorry you’re feeling bad,” Steve says sweetly. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this sniffly,” he adds.

“You wouldn’t have… I don’t get sick. Or, I don’t get sick very often,” he rephrases when Steve gives him a look that says Really? “I normally just stay in the workshop, but this… this is not the normal I’m used to when I have a cold.”

Tony looks around the room, at Steve, who’s definitely the anomaly in this case.

Steve smiles warmly. “Well, it is now.” He leans in to graze a kiss over Tony’s lips and nudges his nose against Tony’s. The feather-light touch seems to cause the remaining itch in Tony’s nose to bloom, though, because Tony quickly pushes Steve away. He barely has time to bring his arm to his face, so he aims the sneezes down towards the blankets.

“tshu! tshh! eh’tsh! huh-tshoo!”

The sneezy sensation overcomes him so quickly he doesn’t even have time to think about stifling them. They’re small and soft and shivery, but Tony lets out a relieved sigh when he finishes. It feels so good to sneeze and not feel like he’s been smacked in the head by the Hulk afterwards.

The alleviation almost makes him dizzy, and it takes him a couple of seconds to pick up the sound of Steve... giggling?

“What are you laughing at?” Tony asks, brows drawn together.

“That- w-was,” Steve tries to speak, but he couldn’t get the words out in between cackles. “That’s the cutest sneeze I’ve ever heard,” he manages to say. The smile on his face stretches from ear to ear.

“Ha-ha.” Tony rolls his eyes. “Laughing at my weird sneeze is very funny, Steve.”

Tony pouts as Steve still couldn’t keep a straight face. “You know, this is why I started stifling them. Because of bullies like you.” Steve can tell he’s not actually mad, though, because Tony’s face starts breaking into a smile and soon he’s chuckling alongside Steve.

“That’s why?” Steve asks.

“I know my sneeze is weird—“ he begins, immediately going shy.

“No, it’s not weird, not at all. It’s adorable.”

“Adorable?” Tony asks incredulously.

“Mhmm,” Steve hums, “definitely the cutest sound I’ve ever heard.” The blonde leans in again, brushes his nose against Tony’s. It has the same effect the second time around, and Tony quickly snaps his head the other way to sneeze over his shoulder.

“tish! iitsh! huh-uh! tshu! hh’itsch! Oh…”

“So sensitive,” Steve murmurs fondly as Tony recovers from the fit of small, ticklish sneezes. “Bless you,” he adds and Tony just sniffles in reply. The tip of his nose is so pink, quivering ever so slightly, and Steve really can’t help but press the most tender kiss right on the center of it, grinning as Tony’s eyes begin to flutter shut again.

“Oh, fuhhck y-you, R-Rohhgers… ishhew! ishh! uhh-tshh!”

“Bless you, sweetheart,” Steve coos, one big, loving smile plastered all across his face.

#my fic #stevetony #steve rogers #tony stark #mcu #i love them a lot okay

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