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starrbishops · 2 days ago

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⟡Just a Little Meddling⟡

(John Walker x f!Reader)

Summary: Walker's feelings for you are obvious to everyone except you. Tired of watching him pine, the team decides to do something about it.

Word Count: 4k

Notes: Set after the events of Thunderbolts*, love confessions, first kiss, reader is described as wearing a dress and being shorter than John (he's 6' 2" so that's pretty much everyone but thought I'd mention it) New Avengers team shenanigans, John Walker yearns

a/n: I've wanted to write a Walker fic feat. the rest of the team so bad so this is it! I do love the family dynamic of the group and this was really fun to write.

“We are out of Wheaties!” Alexei yells out, jolting everyone seated around the dining table. Ever since they’d put the group of you on the box, Alexei had refused to buy any other cereal.

“Oh no.” Yelena deadpaned as she took a sip of orange juice. “This is tragic.”

“Whatever shall we do.” Ava sighed as she leaned back in her chair.

“We will get more!” Alexei declared, storming over to the table. “Bob, you will join me on trip to the supermarket.” he pointed at the man as he spoke. “We need food anyways, Walker uses every ingredient when he cooks.”

“Hey!” John raised his hands in argument. “I make you all breakfast and this is the treatment I get?”

“Oh come on, Walker, we all know why you do this.” Yelena took another bite of her own food.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” he insisted.

Bob shrugged from his seat by the blonde. “I mean, no offense, Walker, but you’re kinda obvious.”

“What’s going on out here?” you walked into the room, rubbing our eyes as if you’d just woken up. John immediately jumped out of his seat, grabbing the extra plate of pancakes that he’d made.

“Hey, made sure to make some extra for you.” he handed you the plate before nervously shoving his hands into his pockets. You smiled as you looked at the dish before you.

John was a surprisingly good cook. None of you could have predicted he was actually competent in the kitchen, but he’d become the designated chef of the group. Today, he’d taken the liberty of making you all blueberry pancakes ‘out of the goodness of his heart.’

“I love blueberries! Thanks John.” you grinned up at him before taking your seat, his eyes trailing after you. Yelena and Ava each gave him a knowing look, to which he scoffed before sitting back down next to you.

“We are in crisis.” Alexei announced to you, slamming the empty Wheaties box in front of you. “We have no Wheaties!” You held back laughter, glancing over at John with a grin at the ridiculous situation. Yelena groaned and covered her face out of embarrassment.

“I think we’ll survive, Alexei. Besides, John’s a great cook, he can tide us over till we go to the store.” you pointed at Walker with your fork, not looking over to see the way his face went red and his smile widened just a bit at the praise. Ava chuckled under her breath at it.

The five of you sat together, conversing as Alexei finally broke his no-Wheaties hunger strike and ate some of John’s pancakes. Walker couldn’t care less, honestly. Yelena may have been mean, but she wasn’t stupid. He liked you; a lot. You were sweet, smart, beautiful. And you would never go for someone like him, so he was left with nothing to do but small things like these. Making your favorite breakfast, looking out for you on missions, saying dumb things just to make you laugh. Anything to see you smile.

“Shit, it’s Val.” you groaned as you looked at your phone. “I gotta take this.” you stepped away, John staring as you left the room. Before you, he’d never been one to gawk at women, but it was getting to the point where when you were in a room, his adult brain turned off and his monkey brain turned on.

“Christ, Walker, you have no shame.” Ava laughed as she noticed John staring, snapping him out of it.

“What?”

“You’re like a lovesick puppy.” she joked, Yelena laughing with her.

“What are you talking about?” Alexei questioned, looking confused between Ava and John.

“Nothing, they’re just being annoying-”

“Walker likes her.” Yelena tilted her head to where you’d just left from.

John just hid his face in his hands, sighing as Alexei processed the information.

“Is this true, Walker?” he asked, seeming genuine in his questioning.

John shrugged. “If I say no, would you even believe me?”

“No.” Yelena and Ava spoke in sync, Bob shaking his head as well.

John threw his hands up, leaning back in his chair. “Fine, okay, I do like her. Are you happy?”

“YES!” Alexei practically jumped up from his seat, moving to smack John on the back.

“Ow!” he recoiled at the super soldier’s touch, Alexei hitting much harder than he intended to. He leaned down to squeeze John into a hug, all but suffocating him in the process.

“Ah, young love. You would make beautiful couple, John. Strong super babies. Would be great for marketing as well.”

“Dad!” Yelena called out from across the table. Alexei just waved her off.

“I joke. But it’s true, you would be wonderful together.”

“Thanks.” Walker choked out. “Please let go.” he caught his breath as Alexei released him.

“Why have you not told her this?”

“He’s scared.” Ava piped in. “Thinks she’s too good for him.”

“Well…” Alexei shrugged.

“Hey, you just said we’d be a good couple!” John cried out.

“Yes, but in terms of leagues, she is up here-” Alexei held his hand up horizontally. “And you are here.” he held his other hand up lower than the first. Yelena again laughed, even Bob chuckling a little.

“You are very handsome man, John, very strong, but you need to be firm. Tell her your feelings. Say, ‘I love you, and I want to be strong man for you. Let us make passionate love.’”

“I am not saying that!” John said as the rest of the table burst into laughter.

“What’s happening?” Bucky yawned as he walked in.

“Alexei is trying to get Walker to admit his crush.” Yelena explained between giggles.

Bucky looked confused. “What, you still haven’t told her?”

“Is it that obvious?” John threw his hands up before covering his face again, prompting more laughter from the others.

“Hey, just saying, you’d be a cute couple. I think she likes you.” Bob leaned over, trying to encourage him.

“Thank you Bob, but I know I have no chance.”

Bucky chuckled. “You give up real easily, don’t you Walker.”

“Look, all of you-” Walker gestured around the table. “She’s out of my league, okay? She can do better. And none of you are going to tell her about this, got it?”

Yelena shrugged, face red from laughter. “Okay, if you’re choosing cowardice, that’s your choice.”

“We won’t stand in your way.” Ava laughed as she stood, taking her plate to the kitchen sink.

“I think you should just tell her. Get it out of your system.” Bob shrugged.

“Yes! Be brave, that is what women want. Strong provider who is not afraid of feelings.” Alexei added.

“I don’t know about all that.” Bucky patted Alxei’s shoulder. “But he’s got a point. She’s gonna find out at some point, Walker.”

“Not if I can help it.” he insisted as he began cleaning up dishes.

“Hey, what’d I miss?” you walked back into the room, John straightening up nervously.

“Nothing!” he yelled immediately. Yelena giggled again as Bucky just sighed.

You looked around at the group, observing Ava holding back laughter, Bob looking nervous, and Alexei looking up expectantly at John. “Okay.” you finally said. “John, do you mind coming with me to this stupid meeting thing later? Val’s insisting I bring someone.”

“Yes!” John immediately replied. “I mean, no of course I don’t mind.”

You smiled, a look of relief that John had memorized. “Thank God, I cannot do this alone. It’s at 11, I gotta go get ready now.��

“Yeah! I mean, I’ll get ready too. For the meeting.” he all but ran to you, following you into the hallway as the others watched.

“God, he’s pathetic.” Ava chuckled as she rinsed off her dish.

“Give him a break, Starr, he’s in love. It’d make anybody crazy.” Bucky warns as he sits down at the table.

“So we are going to do something about this, right? I don’t know how much more of this I can stomach.” Yelena asked the group.

“Walker seems like he needs a little push.” Alexei made a pushing motion as he said the word. “Something to make him act, finally.”

“You want to meddle behind both of their backs?” Ava asked as she rejoined the group at the table.

“Yes, obviously. They both need it.” Yelena gestured to the hall where the two had left.

Bucky ran a hand through his hair. “Listen, this isn’t our business.” he sighed. “But watching Walker like this is kind of sad.”

“So what’s the plan?” Ava asked.

The five sat in silence, thinking on how to get the two together.

Finally Bob chimed in, with “I have an idea!”

You flopped on the couch, John joingin you as the two of you arrived back at the tower after Val’s meeting. After three hours of her droning on and on, it was a relief to be in the quiet of the Watchtower.

That was shortly interrupted by the entrance of the others into the room, ALexei immediately beginning his questioning of how it went.

You turned to John with a pleading look on your face. Please field his questions for me.

John just sighed, unable to say no to you, turning to Alexei to summarize the meeting. Bucky took a seat between the two of you.

“How you feelin’?” he asked. You just chuckled.

“Like my brain is mush.” you put a hand over your eyes.

“Val’ll do that to you.” Bucky jokes as he leaned back. “Hey, I wanted to ask you something.”

You moved your hand, facing the super soldier. “Shoot.”

“Mel’s got this friend, nice guy, good looking, smart, your age.” he listed off. “He works for Val too, thinks you’re pretty cool.”

John tunes into the conversation, focus shifting from Alexei’s questioning to suspicion as to what Bucky was getting at.

“Mel wanted to know if you’d be okay with us setting you up with him.” Bucky explained. “Obviously, it’s your choice, but I thought I’d put it out there.”

“Oh!” you replied, face one of surprise and confusion. “So, like, a date?”

“Yes, a date.” Bucky nodded.

Alarm bells went off in John’s head as he listened. What the hell was Bucky doing? Trying to kill him? It could be genuine, he knew he and Mel were close, and of course there were plenty of guys who’d kill for a date with you. He just never thought Bucky would go there.

“Well, I’m not really sure, it’s been a while since I’ve dated.” you nervously replied.

“Well that’s why it’s good. Get you back out there.” Bucky patted you on the back. “Doesn’t have to be serious. I just want you to be happy.”

Your eyes flitted over to John briefly, catching his look of concern as Alexei droned on in the background. “Okay. Yeah, sure, why not?”

He was so screwed.

“So, how are you feeling?” Yelena sat down next to Waker with a cup of coffee, interrupting his blank staring at the TV.

“Hm?” he hummed out, still barely in reality.

“You know, about your crush going on a date with some other guy.” she elaborated. “One who’s not you. Even though you’re in love with her.”

“I never said that.” he snapped back, although he didn’t move from his spot. “It’s fine. It’s her choice.”

“You’re seriously not doing anything?” The two jumped as Ava phased in behind them, looking disappointed at John. “You’re just going to keep wallowing here?”

“I’m not wallowing.” he muttered.

“You’ve been sitting there for three hours now watching all the Mission Impossibles. It’s sad, Walker, very sad.”

“They’re good movies.” he mumbled under her breath, eliciting a sigh from Yelena.

“Walker, please, just do something. She likes you, you just need to man up and tell her.” she insisted. Walker just stared down at the floor

“Don’t you think if she liked me she wouldn’t go on a date with another guy? I’m not exactly subtle, you all figured it out.”

“Yes, but she’s ridiculously oblivious.” Ava climbed over the sofa to sit next to John. “You both are. It’s why you’re perfect for each other.”

“Exactly! You just need to do something about it.” Yelena grabbed Walker’s shoulders and shook him, startling him out of his misery.

“Jesus, stop, okay! Look, she made her choice, and I’m not gonna get in the way of her being happy, alright? She deserves better.” With that, he stood up and walked away, leaving the two women looking at each other with disappointment.

“Oh God.” Ava flopped back onto the couch. “He’s worse than I thought.”

“Let’s hope Bob knows what he’s doing,” Yelena said, Ava nodding in agreement.

Meanwhile, you stood in your room, fiddling with your dress as you got ready. The longer you stare at yourself, the worse you feel.

You were unsure of this from the minute Bucky brought it up, but it wasn’t like you had any excuse not to. You’d been harboring feelings for John for a while now, something you’d held close to your chest, afraid and unwilling to admit to them. You hoped this would take your mind off of him.

A knock at the door startled you from your thoughts, followed by Bob entering the room.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” he joined you by the mirror, staring into it alongside you.

“Like I’m gonna puke.” you admitted, arms crossed as you evaluated yourself. Yelena and Ava had helped you pick the dress; it was dark blue, shorter than you’d usually wear (“It’s sexy! You need to maximize hotness for this.” yelena had insisted) and hugged your curves tightly. You’d thrown on an old leather jacket you’d found in your closet to combat the awkwardness you felt, though it was still there, and combined with the guilt you felt about John, it was eating you alive.

“That’s fair.” Bob agreed, putting on a hand on your shoulder. “You look great, though. From an objective standpoint. I wouldn’t-”

“I know, Bob. Thank you.” you cut off his nervous ramblings, smiling over at him. “I just feel like crap for some reason.”

“Is it because of John?” you whipped around at the mention of the name, Bob just staring at you like it was a normal question.

“I- what- what do you mean?” you stuttered out.

“Nothing, it’s just, you guys seem really close. He’s been mopey all day, I thought maybe you had a fight or something.”

You sighed, aptly in relief and partly out of sadness. “Yeah. I don’t know what’s up with him. He’s been weird for days.”

“Yeah. Wonder what it could be. Started around when you agreed to the date, right?” Bob pointed out.

“Yeah, I, uh, guess so.” you nodded, confused at what he was pointing out. “You think that has something to do with it?”

Bob just shrugged. “I don’t know. Just stating the facts.” he peered down at his phone. “It’s almost 6:30. You might wanna get going.”

“Yeah, yeah I should.” you grabbed your purse from your dresser, joining Bob as you walked out of the room.

The other four members of the group sat on the sofa, watching some old action movie that's been left on.

Ava whistled as you walked in. “Lookin’ good. That guy’s not gonna know what hit him.” she smiled at you. You gave a small grin back, trying to force yourself to be excited.

“What a beautiful young lady.” Alexei stood, rubbing your shoulders with a fatherly smile on his face. “And a very lucky young man is waiting for you.”

“Thanks, guys.” you grinned at them.

“In fact, everyone should see you. WALKER!” Alexei yelled out. “GET IN HERE!”

“Oh, John been in a mood all day, he doesn’t need to-”

“Jesus, what is it-” John stopped in his tracks as you turned to face him, wearing a nervous smile. He looked you up and down, admiring how the dress almost molded to your body, the larger jacket hanging from your shoulders. God, he wished that was his jacket right now. And you’d done your makeup, somehow becoming more radiant than you usually were. He always found you attractive, whether you were bloody and dirty from fighting, or done up like this.

The two of you just stared at each other in silence, you unsure what to say, John’s brain attempting to process the sight before him. “She looks nice, eh, Walker?” Alexei chuckled as he patted you on the back.

“Um, yeah.” Walker finally managed to choke out. “You look beautiful.”

You smile and nod sharply. “Thanks, John.”

Alexei turned you to face him. “Well, romance awaits! Let’s get you to your date.”

He pushed you towards the elevator gently, the others saying their goodbyes and giving good luck wishes as you walked away. As you stepped in, you gave one last glance at John, who still stood frozen in what seemed like a state of shock, eyes boring into you. You didn’t realize you’d been holding your breath till the elevator doors shut, and you couldn’t see the others anymore.

“Well, there she goes.” Yelena announced, turning back to the TV. “Nice work, Walker.”

John didn’t even respond to her tease. He just kept staring out at the elevator doors, as if he was trying to melt them with his mind, somehow bring you back up.

“John, you alright over there?” Bucky asked, sounding a million miles away to John.

He was stupid. He was so, so stupid. How could he just let you leave like that? Let some random guy, who didn’t even know you, know how amazing you were, take you out? It wasn’t right. Jealousy burned in his chest, imagining him getting to hold you the way John thought of constantly. Getting to touch her, to feel the warmth of you close up, do things to you JOhn could only imagine as he tried to fall asleep at night. He wouldn’t know how to treat you. How could he? John knew you; knew the small things, like your favorite foods, your nervous ticks, the way you laughed when you were faking and when you genuinely found something funny, how you picked at your nails when you were bored, how you fidgeted with her clothes when you were nervous.

And the way you looked at him-hesitant, nervous. Not in an excited way. In a way that he knew meant you wanted to get out of this. That you were unsure, unhappy.

You weren't happy.

That thought was all John needed to make him run to the stairs, the others calling out after him. He didn’t even listen as he descended, running as quickly as possible to reach her before it was too late.

Out of breath after scaling the steps, he looked around the lobby frantically, searching for you out in the crowd. He spotted you heading for the door, calling out your name as he sped over to you.

You turned confused as a red-faced and panting John stood in front of you, trying to catch his breath. “John, what’s going on?”

“Don’t go.” he panted, “Don’t go on that date.”

You stared blankly at him, confused at his sudden fervor. “What?”

“You can’t.” he insisted. “Please, don’t go.”

Your mouth hung open, perplexed and surprised. “What, I-why not? You couldn’t have said this earlier?”

John looked down at you, eyes full of desperation and humility. “I was- I was scared.”

“Of what?”

“You.” he said, taking a step towards you. “You fucking terrify me. Because you’re amazing, because you make me feel like nothing else in the world.” he sighed, eyes not moving from yours. “God, you scare me more than anything because I’m in love with you and I don’t know what to do about it.” he ran a hand through his hair, still breathing heavily as he looked down at you.

You just stare back, shocked and unsure. “You mean all that?”

He nodded fervently, taking another tentative step forward. “I do. And I’m so dumb for not telling you sooner, and for even thinking I could have a chance, but I’m here now.” he reached out, gently taking one of your hands in his. “And I love you. I really do. Please, don’t go.”

You stand, mouth hanging open, unsure what to say, if anything. John just looks defeated and terrified, letting himself be more open and raw than he’d been in years.

You close your mouth, settling on a decision. You reach your other hand around the nape of his neck, pulling him down to your level as you kiss him, hard and intense, an act built from months of longing and suppressed feelings, all let loose with his confession.

He’s still for just a second, brain catching up to his body, before he’s kissing you back, snaking a hand around your waist and cupping your face with the other, tongue slipping into your mouth as he tries to pull you infinitely closer to him.

In that moment, John feels perfect bliss; you against him, your soft lips against his, hand running through his hair mussed from his frantic run to catch you. He could stay like this forever, he thinks.

Unfortunately, you do finally have to pull away to breathe, panting as you lean into John, his arms rising to hold you against him.

“God, I’m so in love with you, John.” you mumble against him, breathing in the scent of him. “And I didn’t want to ruin our friendship, and the team, but god, you’re so great.”

John smiles, planting a kiss to the top of your head. “God, you’re perfect.” he hugs you tightly against him as you rest a cheek on his chest. “You’re everything. I swear, I’ll give you everything, if you’ll let me.”

You nod, opening your eyes to look up at him. “Yes.” you nod fervently. “I don’t need anything, I just want you, John.”

He chuckles, leaning down to give you another kiss. This one is softer, a promise of more to come.

You smile, leaning your forehead against his as he breaks the kiss, only to be interrupted by sudden cheering behind you.

The two of you turn to see your teammates clapping and smiling at you, Alexei holding up his phone as he takes a video.

“Finally!” Yelena yells out, coming over to hug you. “Took you too long enough.”

“You planned this?” you ask, looking out at your friends. John just stands still in shock, hands still firmly planted on your hips.

“Well, it was Bob’s idea.” Ava nudges the man next to her, who gives a nervous grin. “We all just helped.”

“God, this is beautiful.” Alexei suppresses a sob as he pockets his phone, walking over to join the two of you. “I feel like a proud parent.”

“You planned this.” John states, still processing as he glares at Bob, who just shrugs.

“You said you wouldn’t do anything about it. We thought you needed a little push.”

“And clearly it worked.” Bucky gestures to the two of you, prompting you to laugh at the insanity of the situation you were now in.

“You didn’t want to tell me you liked me?” you peered up at John, who somehow got even more red than before.

“Well, I uh… I figured you were out of my league.”

“And you are.” Ava adds as she phases over to you. “But if someone deserves the privilege of dating you, I guess he’s alright.”

“Hey.” Walker’s voice has no bite to it, smiling as he looks back down at you. “Really though, are you sure about this? You want me?”

You chuckle, moving a hand to his cheek, him leaning into your touch. “Yes, John, I’m sure.” you pull him down to kiss him once more, not caring about your friends around you. Yelena and Ava make disgusted sounds as Bob claps, Alexei cheering in the background.

“Shut up!” you push your friends away as you pull back, although you smile doing so. Alexei wraps the two of you in a bruising hug, taking your breath away.

“I’m so proud of you two!” he yells. “It’s like my beautiful daughter and my big strong son are in love!”

“How would that work?” Yelena asks as he releases the two of you, giving John a slap on the back.

“Good work, Walker, I told you, express your love, be honest, and then, you make beautiful passionate love-”

“Okay, Alexei, thank you!” John cuts him off, brushing the others away as he pulls you to him. You laugh as the others move to file back into the elevator, looking up at John.

“Beautiful passionate love, huh?” you joke.

“Alexei has some interesting advice.” John just grins as he puts an arm around your waist, walking with you to join your friends in the elevator.

a/n: This is my longest fic to date and it was written in one sugar high induced sitting and I really don't know how I did it. But here it is! Ain't much but it's honest work :)

#thunderbolts*#john walker #john walker x reader #fanfic #marvel #thunderbolts #us agent #bob reynolds #yelena belova #alexei shostakov #bucky barnes #ava starr

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bitters-n-sweets · 2 days ago

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i love him — jack abbot x fem!reader inspired by a scene from Jerry Maguire | Jack overhears the reader having a “secret” conversation with her best friend

warnings: unspecified age gap, just some cute fluff, Jack calls reader ‘sweets’, reader and her best friend calls him 'doctor daddy' for obvious reasons, not proofread, self indulgent, mdni masterlist i was writing angst for a few days and now need a breather haha

You and Jack have been dating for a while. About a few months now. You just became an attending at PTMC, and that really what kickstarted your relationship—he’s no longer your boss. The pining, the almosts, the what-ifs—they were there in every lingering glance, every shared laugh in the on-call room, every late-night case that ended with his hand brushing yours just a second too long.

But Jack never let it cross the line. Not while you were under him professionally. He saw what happened with Robby and Collins—how quickly things could spiral, how reputations could fracture. He wasn’t going to let that happen to you. To both of you.

When you finally became an attending at PTMC, it felt like the last piece clicking into place. You waited to open the manila folder—the one with your future inside—until you were at Jack’s place. You wanted him to be the first to know. To be there for the moment. And when you unfolded the letter and saw those words—“We’re pleased to inform you…”—you practically jumped into his arms. Jack held you tight, a proud, steady smile on his face like he’d known it all along.

“I knew you could do it, sweets.”

He’d asked you out not long after that. A quiet breakfast date after your night shift—flowers already waiting on the table, a small wrapped box with a bracelet inside. Something simple. Something thoughtful. Something so very Jack.

Of course, there’ve been arguments. Small things—a forgotten dinner plan, a tense call on a bad day—but nothing that ever felt like it could undo you. Jack doesn’t raise his voice. He listens, then speaks. Calm, grounded, but never cold. He never makes you feel like you’re too much.

But what surprises you most about Jack Abbot isn’t his patience, or his discipline, or even his skill in bed.

It’s how romantic he is.

The kind of man who keeps a sticky note in his wallet with your coffee order. The kind who kisses your hand before work, like an old-school gentleman from a black-and-white movie.

You’ve been covering the day shift for three days straight, and today’s your day off. You’re planning to reset your sleep schedule to prepare for the night shift rotation starting tomorrow. You stayed up all night just so you could sleep together with Jack—but, of course, he texts that he’s going to be a little late. Hazards of being an ER doc.

Then, your phone buzzes. It’s your friend Diana.

Diana: How’s the attending life so far, doc?

Diana’s your best friend. You don’t live close to each other, and don’t text every day, but you have monthly check-ins with each other to catch up on each other’s lives. You smile as you read her text and press the call button.

“Hey!”

“Hey!” She replies with matching energy. “How’s my ER girlie doing?”

“Trying to survive.” You chuckle. “How about you? How’s work for my corporate girlie?”

“Busy as I’ll ever be.” You can practically see her roll her eyes. “But seriously, how’s life? Oh! How is Doctor Daddy doing?”

You glance at the door, you thought you heard a noise.

“Doctor Daddy’s doing fine,” you say, trying not to laugh. “And… yeah. Life’s good. I have no complaints.”

“Ooh you have that voice.”

“What voice?”

“The ‘I’m in love and I don’t know what to do with myself’ voice.”

“I do not!” You gasp, then pause. “Okay, maybe I do.”

“Oh my God.” Diana gasps. “You’re in love with Jack.”

You sigh, a smile etched on your face. “Yeah, I guess I do love him. Ugh, I mean, how can I not? He’s sweet, and good, and—God, Diana, I love him for—for the man he already is, and for the man he wants to be. He makes me feel like I’m home. Even when he’s being annoying, I still want him next to me.”

You laugh softly, running your fingers through your hair. “I’m really in love with him. I guess I’m doomed, huh?”

“Now why would you be doomed, sweets?”

You nearly jump out of your skin, turning around and clutching your phone. Jack’s leaning against the back of the couch, bag dropped by his feet, smirking faintly—curious and amused.

“Diana… I’m… gonna call you back.”

“OMG DID DOCTOR DADDY HEAR YOU—” Click. You hang up, but Jack’s already heard the nickname he apparently has.

You can feel your ears getting hot, and you’ll bet your face is red by now.

“How much did you hear?” you ask, not meeting his eyes.

He shrugs, stepping closer. “Only the important parts. Do you really mean everything you said?”

You freeze, fumbling. “Look, I know it’s early. Maybe too soon. We don’t have to talk about it. We can pretend you didn’t hear—”

“Say it again.” He steps closer.

You glance up. He’s right in front of you now, arms sliding gently around your waist.

Your hands rest on his chest, grounding yourself. “I—I love you.”

And then Jack pulls you in, a smile now on his face. “I love you, too.”

Then he kisses you like he’s never done before. Passionate yet slow, he’s taking his time to taste you, devour you, claim you as his. Because there’s no way he’s letting you go. Ever.

You pull away shortly after, breathless.

The smirk comes back to his lips and he teases you, “Doctor Daddy, huh?”

“Oh my God.” You groan, pressing your face into his chest. “Never speak of it again.”

“Call me that when we’re having sex and see what happens.” He whispers, voice low near your ear, sending you shivers.

“Jack!”

#jack abbot fluff #jack abbot the pitt #jack abbot x you #dr jack abbot #jack abbot x reader #jack abbot x female reader #female reader #the pitt #dr abbot #jack abbot #jack abbot x fem reader

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soaps-mohawk · 2 days ago

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Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 54: The Farm

Summary: You adjust to your life on the MacTavish farm and learn some surprising things about yourself.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 8,237 words

Warnings: Alpha/beta/omega dynamics, A/B/O, alternate universe, angst, emotions, fluff, animals, you might fall in love with a fictional dog, slight language.

A/N: I love this chapter and I hope you will too!

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You’re trying to fight the tears as they sting your eyes, desperately trying to stop them from falling as you walk back towards the house. Lily steps aside, letting you enter before closing the door behind you.

“Aw, hen.” She coos, rubbing your back. “It’s okay tae cry.”

You can’t stop them. They would have fallen without the permission, but being allowed to cry only makes them fall faster. Lily wraps her arms around you, pulling you tight against her chest. Her hand strokes your hair as she coos softly at you, rocking you back and forth gently.

“Saying goodbye is always hard.” She says softly. “I damn near cry a river when Johnny-boy leaves. It’s hard when ye don’t know how long it’ll be until ye see them again. I’m sure ye know that well.”

“Yeah.” You sniffle. You don’t know when you’ll see Johnny or Simon again. If you’ll see them again. You shove that thought aside into the deep recesses of your mind. You have enough to cry about, you’re not going to entertain those kinds of thoughts right now.

Lily kisses the top of your head before pulling back, wiping your tears with her shirt sleeve. “There we go.” You sniffle, trying to stop the flood sliding down your cheeks. There’s a wet spot on her shirt, but she doesn’t seem to even notice. She gives you a soft smile, holding your face in her hands. “Ye remind me of my youngest girl. So sweet and soft and polite. All beta. Quite the opposite of the rest of her siblings. She’s in medical school now training tae be an omega specialist.”

A small smile tugs at your lips. It makes you think of Dr. Keller and how she’s doing with her new job, how things are going with Ashley. Maybe you’ll ask John if he knows when you see him again.

“I’m sure she’ll be great at it.” You say. “Takes a lot of patience to work with omegas sometimes.”

You think about how much patience Dr. Keller had for you at the beginning, while she worked on helping you through your trauma and unlearning what the institute taught you. It had taken a long time, but you’re here today because of her and everything she did for you.

“I had an omega specialist on base for a while.” You say. “I owe a lot to her for getting me through those first few months.”

“I’m so glad ye had someone tae support ye.” Lily says, petting your hair. The tears have slowed to almost none. “I’m sure it was a great help.”

“I don’t know if I would have made it without her.” You say quietly.

“I think you could have. There’s a strength to ye. A quiet strength. I can see it.” Lily says, squeezing you against her chest one more time. “Ye’d have tae have it putting up with those boys.”

You giggle, hugging her back for a moment before she releases you.

“Come on,” She says, patting your head. “I have someone I want ye tae meet.”

You tilt your head as she moves into the house, heading for the back door. You follow, unsure who else you have to meet besides maybe the sheep.

“Here,” She says, pulling out a pair of boots. “These should work until we can get ye a proper pair of Wellies in town.”

“You don’t have to do that.” You say, toeing out of your tennis shoes.

“Course we do.” She says, slipping on her own boots. Storm stands at the door, ready to run out as soon as its open. “Ye need a pair anyway.”

You don’t argue, following her out the door.

The back yard is spacious, a garden set up in one corner, and a veranda in the other with a barbecue. You can imagine sitting out there in the summer, eating a hot dog and watching the sun set over the green hills. Storm races around the yard, tail wagging, all excited.

“Still young at heart.” Lily says as she walks down the path towards the gate. There’s a barn off to the right in the distance, a dirt road leading between the pastures.

You can see why she insisted on the boots now as the ground gets muddy beyond the gate.

“Murray is over the hill with the sheep.” She says, pointing off to the right where a hill rises. “Spends most of his day out there.” She opens a gate to the left, passing through before holding it open for you. “I like to spend my time in here.”

Your boots squelch as you walk through the muddy grass towards a smaller barn.

“Ye ever lived on a farm before?” Lily asks as you approach what looks like a chicken coop.

“No,” you answer. “We always lived close to the base my dad was stationed at. We moved around too much to have animals.”

“He was in the service?” She asks.

You nod. “Marines. It was his entire personality.”

She chuckles. “Usually is.” She pauses in front of the coop. “These are my girls. I let them out early and collect eggs.”

There’s ten chickens that you can count roving around the coop. It’s decent sized, bigger than you would have imagined.

“I leave them in there so the hawks don’t get ‘em.” She says. “Now, who I wanted ye to meet,” She continues towards the barn, the grass getting more and more solid as you go.

You walk up a small hill to the barn, something standing beside it. Something large and brown.

“This here is my coo, Mabel.” Lily says, walking right up to the cow.

You nearly die of cuteness on the spot. Mabel is a highland cow, all thick hair and horns and perhaps the cutest cow you’ve ever seen.

“Ye can get close. She’s very sweet.” Lily says, patting Mabel on the side.

You step up to her, holding out a hand. “Hello Mabel.” You say, Mabel nosing at your hand for a moment. You pet her nose, feeling the coarse, thick hair draped over her face.

“She’s due for a haircut.” Lily says, brushing some of the hair to the side so Mabel can see better. “And she’ll start sheddin’ soon.”

“I love her.” You say, scratching Mabel between the horns.

“Yer welcome tae come out here whenever you’d like.” Lily says. “Mabel comes and goes out of her barn as she pleases. She’s good for some cuddles when you need some love.” Lily grins at you. “She’s a great listener too.”

You smile, continuing to pet Mabel.

You might just like living on a farm after all.

You had stayed with Mabel even after Lily had gone into the house to start on dinner. It wasn’t even lunch yet, but still she insisted on starting early for a proper Sunday roast. Lily had been right about Mabel being a good listener. She hadn’t minded you hugging her, leaning your weight against her body, petting her hair as you told her all of your woes and fears. Storm had stayed in the field with you, running around before settling in the grass with a stick.

Storm followed you back to the house around lunchtime, when you’d left Mabel with a pat and a promise to come back tomorrow. She hadn’t given much of a response, but somehow deep down you knew she understood.

“Will ye wipe her feet with the towel, hen?” Lily called from the kitchen when you entered with Storm.

“Yeah,” You say, spotting the towel hanging near the door. Storm stands dutifully, letting you wipe most of the mud off of her feet. She licks your face before heading for the kitchen, abandoning you for the prospect of food. You don’t mind. Your stomach is growling too.

“How many sandwiches would ye like, hen?” Lily asks, bringing a platter of chips and vegetables to the table.

“Just one.” You answer. She gives you a sideways glance. “I could probably eat two though.”

She smiles. “Two it is then. I won’t have ye going hungry here.”

You don’t doubt she means that.

“Murray’ll be in, in a bit.” She says, setting a plate of two sandwiches in front of you before taking the seat across from you. “He can make his own.”

“I could make my own too.” You suggest quietly.

“Nonsense.” Lily says, waving away the idea. “Yer a guest. I’m more’n happy tae feed ye.”

“Thank you, for doing all of this.” You say, taking a bite of your sandwich.

“Of course,” She says, grabbing a carrot off the platter. “John said ye were havin’ trouble bein’ on base. I wasnae gonna let ye live somewhere ye weren’t comfortable. Besides, I’ve been excited tae meet ye, get tae know ye.”

“I’ve been wanting to meet their families too.” You say. “I’ve met Kyle’s sister but that was it before now.”

“Aye, those Garricks are something special.” She says.

“They really are.” You grin. “Like perfect angels.”

“Indeed.” She says.

Silence falls over the table as you eat, Storm sitting by your side on the floor, staring longingly at your food. You’re tempted to ‘accidentally’ drop a piece but you’re not sure if that’ll be allowed so instead you try and look away, ignoring those big puppy eyes staring into your soul.

Murray comes in right before you finish eating, toeing off his boots at the door. His pants are splattered with mud, as is his shirt as he pulls off his jacket.

“Yers are in the kitchen.” Lily says, finishing off her own sandwich.

“Thank ye, love.” He kisses Lily’s cheek before heading into the kitchen.

“I hear ye like tae read.” Lily says, turning back to you.

You nod. “Yeah, I do.”

“Well help yerself to any of the books on the shelves. The kids have some books in their rooms too. Yer more’n welcome tae browse those too.” She says, standing from the table. She takes your plate, heading to the kitchen as Murray comes out with his own plate of sandwiches.

“Did ye have a good mornin’?” He asks, taking his seat at the head of the table.

You nod. “I got to see the chickens and met Mabel.”

“Good.” He smiles. “Mabel’s a sweet old girl.”

“She is. I’ve never been around animals, outside of a few petting zoos.” You say. “But I already like Mabel a lot.”

“Aye, we’ll turn ye into a farm girl in no time.” Murray grins. “Ye can see the sheep when I bring ‘em in later too.”

“I’d like that.” You say.

After lunch you settle into the couch with a book pulled off one of the many shelves in the room. Storm has joined you, curling up beside you with her head in your lap.

“That dog really likes ye.” Lily says as she joins you, pulling out her knitting.

You smile, petting Storm’s head. “I’m not sure why.”

“Dogs are good judges of character.” She says. “She senses something in ye.”

You scratch behind Storm’s ears as silence falls over the room again and you return to reading your book. You wonder if it’s really true, if Storm can sense something about you that’s drawing her in. Whatever it is, you’re glad she likes you. It could be the opposite, you suppose. She could dislike you. You wonder what that would say about your character if that were the case.

Regardless, you’re growing to find her presence comforting. The entire house is comforting, despite the turmoil you still feel inside. The farm is a good distraction, but in these moments of silence you know you’re going to struggle the most. These moments where you have to be present, you have to face down the truth that you’re hundreds of miles from your pack and there’s still a couple weeks before you’ll see them again...before you’ll see John again. It’ll be just you and John for a while. Then Kyle will join you. Then you’ll be three separated from the two others.

It breaks your heart that they won’t retire, but you’d never admit that.

Maybe someday they’ll make that decision, but you know it won’t be anytime soon.

You shift on the couch, Storm lifting her head before settling back down, adjusting herself so she’s even closer to you than she was before, almost as if she can sense the shift in your emotions.

You scan the photos on the wall in the hallway. You’ve been roving around waiting for dinner to be ready, taking in all of the artwork and the many photos decorating the walls. Photos of Johnny and his siblings as kids, family portraits, artistic shots of the farm and the animals and the kids with them. You’ve even found a framed photo of Storm and Bron on the wall.

You pass by a shadow box decorated with military medals and stripes. You’d almost assume it was Johnny’s but you know he’ll still wear his when the occasion requires. No, these are Murray’s. Chief Petty Officer MacTavish.

“You served?” You ask as the man himself rounds the corner.

He pauses, glancing at the box before nodding. “Aye. Royal Navy. Joined as soon as I graduated. Didnae know what else tae do with myself. I was forced to retire when Johnny was still a lad. Hip injury.” He smiles as he stares at the medals. “Moved the family out here, bought a few sheep, rest is history.”

“You must be proud of Johnny then.” You say. You can piece together that his father’s history with the armed forces played a role in his own decision to join.

“Aye. Though his job scares the piss out of me sometimes.” He pats your back. “I hear your own father served.”

You nod as the two of you walk down the hall. “Marines.” You say. “I can’t imagine him doing anything else. He was...very patriotic. Spent a lot of time preaching the necessity of giving our lives to protect the country to us kids. Two of my three older brothers joined too. The rest of us went on to do other things. I never thought I’d be back in it, though.”

“That must have been a shock.” Lily says as the two of you arrive at the table. She’s setting a pan of roast beef on the table. “I can only imagine what it was like tae leave that world only to be right back in it.”

“I was in deeper than I was with my dad.” You say, taking your seat. “It was an adjustment, but I’ll honestly say I’m glad I’m getting to leave it behind.”

“I don’t blame ye one bit.” She says, taking a seat at the table. “The stress is unimaginable, even when they’re not goin’ off tae war.” She passes a glance at Murray. “I’m glad yer gettin’ this chance.”

“Aye, I’m proud of John fer retiring. It’s time he settled down.” Murray says, staring to load his plate.

Roast beef, mashed potatoes, vegetables, yorkshire pudding. A proper Sunday roast, or so you’re told.

“You know him well?” You ask curiously as you start to load your own plate.

“Aye, he’s been here a few times since Johnny joined his pack.” Murray says.

“We were skeptical at first, but he proved himself alright.” Lily says. “He’s a good alpha, and a good man.”

“But whatever magic ye worked tae get him to retire…” Murray grins. “Consider it an act of god.”

You smile bashfully, your face warming just a bit. “I’m not sure what I did exactly, besides just existing in his life.”

“Sometimes that’s all a man needs.” Lily says, giving you a smile.

The Sunday roast is delicious. It’s better than what you ate at restaurants in town during the weekends that John insisted everyone go out for Sunday dinner. It’s even better than your own attempts at the cottage, though you’d never tell Dr. Keller that.

You’ll have to get some recipes from Lily before you leave.

After dinner the three of you settle in the living room again, Murray turning on the TV. Storm lays at your feet, Bron laying between you and Murray. You’ve got a beer in your hand, cold where it rests against your leg. Murray hadn’t even asked, instead passing one to you silently. You’d taken it, knowing it would be rude to refuse. It’s not your first time drinking by far. You and your brothers used to sneak sips here and there during barbecues and holidays, and the guys have made sure to corrupt you in that way.

Still, the alcohol makes you feel warm as you drink it, chasing away the nerves that nightfall brings.

A lot of things can happen at night, and you can feel the looming darkness outside. It’s darker here than on base, no light pollution to offer some respite from the inky blackness outside.

You’ve been avoiding looking at the windows, even with the curtains closed.

Despite the nagging fear at the back of your brain, the beer makes you feel warm and fuzzy. That, and Storm’s comforting presence against your feet. It’s nice knowing there’s someone that will sense something off before even you can.

It’s late by the time you decide to call it a night. Storm follows you to your room, standing in the doorway as you pull clothes out of your bag.

“C’mon Stormy.” Lily says, patting her back. “Goodnight, hen.”

“Goodnight.” You call, watching Storm hesitate before heading down the hallway with Lily.

You get ready for bed before turning out the light, crawling under the covers. You can still smell a bit of Johnny on the pillow and blankets. You breathe in his spicy, citrusy scent. It blends with the earthy scent of John on your shirt, offering up a comforting cocktail of your boys. You wish they were there still in person, but you’ll take their scents.

You wonder how long it will be until they fade away. You doubt they’ll last the entire time you’re here.

You grab your phone from the nightstand, pulling up John’s number. He had texted you earlier letting you know they made it safe, but you need to hear his voice. You listen to it ring, holding your breath. It’s late, and you half expect him to be in bed already. He has an early morning tomorrow, unless he decides to skip working out...you doubt he’ll do that though, now that he doesn’t have you to worry about.

“Hello, sweetheart.” His voice is rough, tired sounding.

“Hi,” you greet him quietly quietly, letting out a breath. “Did I wake you?”

“No,” There’s rustling on the other side of the line. “I was laying awake.”

“Same.” you say, pulling the covers up around you.

“How are things going up there?” He asks.

“Good.” you answer honestly. “I met a cow today.”

“Did you?” he chuckles. “How did that go?”

“Good. I really like her. She’s a good listener.” you listen to his chuckle on the other end. “Storm has also really taken to me.”

“Good,” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice. “Lily and Murray treating you alright?”

“Yeah,” you say, rolling onto your side. “They’re amazing. Lily’s a really good cook. Makes me feel sorry for you that you’re going to have to eat my cooking.”

“Your cooking isn’t that bad.” He says. “I survived on it at the cottage.”

“Yeah but that was only a couple times. I can make like three things confidently.”

“Then we’ll learn together. We’ll only have to survive until Kyle’s paperwork is approved. Then he can cook. It’ll be good for him, having something to do.”

What are you going to do? You want to ask it but you’re not sure how well that will go over. What is he going to do once he’s retired? Maybe you can convince him to start a farm. It would be good for him to have some physical work to do every day. He’s used to never having a day off, and you don’t get days off on a farm.

You’ll worry about that later, when the time actually comes.

“How are things down there?” You ask. “How are the boys.”

“Coping.” He says. “Johnny pouted the entire way home. It’s not the same being just us again. We got so used to your presence it feels empty.”

A small smile forms on your lips. “It feels weird not having you here with me. I’m not sure I can survive.”

“I think we can make it.” He says. “It’s only for a couple weeks at most. By the end you’ll be sad to leave.”

“I do like it here.” You muse. “It’s cozy and comfortable and I like having animals around. Wish you were here though.”

“Soon.” He says, muffling a yawn.

“You should get some sleep. Early morning tomorrow, right?”

He hums. “Earlier than I’d like.”

“Ready to retire?” You ask.

“I can feel it coming.” He says, and you can hear the smile in his voice. “You should get some rest too. I know you didn’t sleep well last night.”

You likely won’t sleep well tonight either, but you won’t tell him that. You don’t want him to worry more than he already is. “I never sleep well the first night in a new place.”

He hums again. “Goodnight, love.”

“Goodnight, John.” You say quietly, holding the phone to your ear until he ends the call.

You stare at the screen for a moment before setting your phone on the nightstand once more. You feel more comfortable now after hearing John’s voice. It’s soothed some of the nerves churning in your stomach. He’s just a phone call away, and soon he’ll be back within reach. Just a couple weeks at most. You should be able to survive that.

You hope you will.

You do manage to sleep.

There’s light coming through the curtains when you wake, and you can hear the faint clacking of dishes down the hall. You squint blearily at your phone. It’s past nine. You’ve slept in later than you meant to. They’re early risers, being on a farm and all. You realized that yesterday when you heard them moving around before dawn.

Here you’ve gone and slept in.

You get up, changing clothes before heading to the bathroom.

Lily’s in the kitchen when you get up, still a bit bleary from a rough night’s sleep.

“Morning, hen.” She says, turning from the dishes when she hears you patter in.

“Sorry, I slept in.” You say, rubbing your eyes.

“None of that now, yer a guest. Ye can sleep in as late as ye’d like.” She says, waving her hand. “I’ve saved some breakfast for ye. Let me heat it up.”

“You don’t have to do that.” You say.

“Of course I do. I want to.” She says, pushing you out of the kitchen. “Juice or coffee?”

“Juice is fine.” You say, taking a seat at the table. Storm comes over to you, pawing at your hand. You give her some pets, scratching behind her ear.

“Here ye are.” Lily says, bringing you a plate loaded with eggs and sausage and toast. She sets it down in front of you along with a glass of orange juice. It’s probably freshly squeezed.

“Thank you. It looks delicious.” You say, picking up your fork.

It tastes delicious too. You never knew a simple eggs and sausage and toast could taste so good. Lily must work magic in the kitchen. That can be the only explanation for how wonderful she can make even the simplest food taste.

You slip on your borrowed boots after you finish eating, following Lily out into the yard again. Storm trots along beside you, tongue hanging out in excitement.

“Ye ever driven an ATV before?” Lily asks you, and you notice one parked next to the gate just past the fence. You hadn’t noticed it yesterday.

You shake your head. “No.”

She pats your shoulder. “I’ll teach ye soon. I’m gonnae go grab some hay from the barn for Mabel. Ye go on ahead and start givin’ her a good brushin’.”

Lily opens the gate to the pasture where the barn sits before climbing on the ATV. You open the other gate to Mabel’s pasture, Storm running through as soon as its open. You leave it open, passing the chickens on your hike up the small hill to where Mabel stands, looking like she has no care in the world.

Her brush hangs in her small barn and you grab it off the wall. Her hair is thick and coarse, the brush catching on a few tangles. You’re careful not to pull too hard, working the knots out gently.

Lily arrives on the ATV, towing a small trailer behind it stacked with bales of hay.

“Come and help me unload this, hen.” She says, climbing off the ATV.

You shove the brush into your back pocket, treading through the grass to the stack of hay bales. Lily tosses you a pair of gloves, something you’re grateful for as soon as you put your hands on the hay. It pokes at you, a few pieces even sticking you through the gloves.

It’s also heavy.

Your arms shake as you lift one of the bales, just managing to get it up off the stack. You heft it the few feet to the barn, stacking it on top of the others. Lily lifts the next bale, making it seem almost easy.

“They’re heavy.” You say, letting out a breath as you return to grab the next one.

“Aye.” Lily says with a grin. “We’ve got tae get yer muscles built up. Turn ye into a proper farm girl in no time.”

You’re out of breath by the time the last bale has been stacked, a few small scratches on your arms where you’d pushed up the sleeves of your sweatshirt to avoid getting hay in the fabric. Somehow you’ve still managed, feeling the small pokes even through your jeans.

“Keep workin’ on Mabel, I’m gonnae take the trailer back.” Lily says.

Your arms feel like jelly as you grab the brush out of your pocket again, returning to brushing Mabel’s back. You knew you were out of shape compared to what you once were, but you think even if you weren’t that would have been a struggle. Farm work is hard and you’ve barely had a taste of it. It speaks volumes of just how strong Johnny’s parents are that they can do this every day.

Lily returns, walking up the hill to where you are. “We refill her ‘bout once a week.” She says, patting Mabel’s nose. “Can’t keep all of it here, or she’ll eat it all.”

You grin, Mabel’s head tilting as you brush a spot on the side of her neck. You’re getting covered in cow hair, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

“She’ll be sheddin’ her winter coat soon.” Lily says running her fingers through Mabel’s hair, picking out a few chunks. “Things get very hairy up here.”

You laugh, brushing under Mabel’s chin as she tilts her head up for you. “I can imagine.”

“I’m gonnae go find Murray, ye stay out here as long as ye like.” She says, patting your shoulder before heading back down to the ATV.

Storm stays in the pasture with you again, happily laying in the grass while you finish up brushing Mabel.

You lean against her side, resting your head on her back. “We’ll be okay, right?” You ask, not expecting an answer, and you don’t get one aside from a loud cluck from a chicken.

You head back into the house, Storm following you. You toe off your boots at the door, wiping down Storm’s feet before heading into the living room. You pick up the book you had been reading from the coffee table, settling on the couch. Storm jumps up beside you, sitting there staring expectantly.

You stare back, tilting your head. “What?”

She puts a paw on your leg, sniffing your cheek.

“Oh alright.” You put your book to the side before scratching her neck. She leans into you, licking your arm as you scratch her. “You’re so soft.” You say, hugging her against your chest as you scratch down her back. “Must have gotten a bath recently, huh?”

You kiss her head before releasing her, going back to your book. She curls up next to you, leaning against your leg. You drop a hand to rest against her back, feeling her comforting warmth against you.

The days go by and you settle into a bit of a routine on the farm. You start to wake up earlier and earlier, adjusting to hearing Lily and Murray up and moving around early in the morning. You’re still not sleeping well, but you are managing to get some sleep at night.

John’s called every day, wanting to know how you’re doing, how you’re settling in. It gets easier and easier to tell him you’re doing alright, as you start to believe it. But no matter how comfortable you get in Lily and Murray’s home, there’s still a deep ache in your chest, a yearning for your pack, for your alpha.

You thought it might be weird being around an unknown alpha, but Murray has been careful to keep himself from being overbearing and overwhelming. Sometimes you forget he’s an alpha, but his strong scent reminds you every time you smell it. He’s not like any alpha you’ve been around before, but then again, you think he has Lily to thank for that.

You don’t know many alphas that chose to take beta mates over omegas. It was so unheard of in your circle of friends and family friends growing up. Your father surrounded himself with like-minded alphas, traditionalists that prided themselves on scoring a prize omega who could give them pups.

You suppose John had taken a beta as his mate, but you know that dynamic is different, and it became even more complex once you were added into the picture. Maybe John would have wound up more like Murray had it just been him and Kyle in the long run.

A beta’s soothing presence is enough to calm and alpha’s instincts over time. It probably helps that he’s older, those instincts less strong now than they would have been likely just a few years ago. You know alphas calm over time, those instincts settling as they get older, as they settle down.

You wonder how long it will take John’s instincts to start settling now that he’s retiring out of a high-stress job.

You’ve taken to being on the farm and helping out more and more. Mabel has become your lifeline, your stand-in therapist. It’s a bit healing, laying against her side, telling her how much you miss your pack, how nervous you are about this new chapter in your life, how fast things seem to be moving. You’ve only been with your pack for just over a year now and already so many things have happened, so many things have changed. She may not be able to offer much in terms of conversation or advice, but it’s still comforting to have someone there who can listen and not judge.

You’ve even come to know the chickens a bit, gathering eggs a couple times when you’ve gotten up early enough to beat Lily to it. You’ve had your fingers pecked more than a few times, but you’re growing fearless around them, shoving the broody ones to the side to grab their eggs.

A week goes by before you know it, settling into the clock-like rotation of life on a farm. It’s comforting to have a schedule, to always have something to do. It reminds you of being on base, of conforming to the guys’ schedules. You prefer this kind of schedule and work, though.

Maybe you can talk John into a farm. It would be good for him, help him settle into civilian life where you don’t have someone telling you what to do...or where you’re not the someone telling others what to do.

You wake early on Sunday, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you lay in bed for a moment. It’s early, but still you hear Lily and Murray moving around. You feel like dragging your feet this morning, but you don’t, sliding out of bed before grabbing clothes.

“Morning Stormy.” You say, greeting the dog laying at your door. She’s taken up vigil in the mornings, laying there waiting for you to get up.

You pat her head before stepping over her, heading for the bathroom. Lily had done some washing for you, despite your insistence that you could do it yourself. She was keen to do as much for you as possible. She said she misses being able to mother someone. Murray won’t let her. He’s stubborn like that.

You head for the kitchen, Lily already up with breakfast at the table.

“Mornin’ hen.” She greets you, pouring coffee into a mug. Murray is at the table as well, sipping his own cup.

“Morning.” You say, taking your seat and the offered mug. “You’re up early.”

“It’s Sunday. We’re goin’ tae Mass today.” Lily explains.

You hadn’t really thought much about it, though you should have guessed given the candles and the crucifix on the wall that they were religious. The idea of Johnny being raised Catholic is hard for you to grasp.

“Did ye go to church growin’ up?” Murray asks you as Lily sets a plate of food in front of you.

“Not really.” You say. “Mostly just Christmas and Easter.” As patriotic as your father was, he didn’t pay much mind to religion. Sundays were for beer and football and a good dinner.

“We try tae go every Sunday.” Lily says. “Though we don’t always make it.”

Like last Sunday, you think. They had been busy with helping you get settled in.

“Gives us an excuse tae go into town.” Murray says.

“We’ll do some shoppin’ while we’re there.” Lily says. “Get ye anythin’ ye might need too.”

You’re not sure what you might need. You thought you had brought enough to last you the couple weeks, though something tells you Lily is going to find something you need. She had said something about getting you a proper pair of boots. You wonder what else she might decide you need.

Church went well, although you had no idea what a Catholic Mass was like, nor what you were supposed to do, but you followed along well enough. Shopping afterward had gone as you expected. You got your new pair of boots, strawberry printed, and Lily had decided you needed a couple new pairs of jeans. It was true yours were starting to show the wear and tear of farm life, and they weren’t proper work jeans, according to her. You weren’t sure what that meant, but she hadn’t listened to your protests, buying you the pants anyway.

It was a nice, warm day so Lily had taken you out to her garden to help her set up for the spring plants she’d grow. You pulled weeds, harvested some of the last winter vegetables, dug holes, played in the dirt. It felt good doing something with your hands. It gave you purpose, something you haven’t felt in a while.

Sure, being an omega you had your purpose, but lately it had been a bit...mundane. You had been forced into the box of ‘sit there and look pretty and offer us some comfort,’ even if they hadn’t realized they were doing it. You hadn’t even really noticed it until now, until you got some space from it. Now that you were actually doing things, now that you had a true purpose, helping out on the farm, you realized just how deep you had been shoved into that box.

Maybe coming here was a good thing after all.

That night you cry for the first time. You’re not sure why. Maybe the dirt under your fingernails had awoken something in you, some deep crevasse of your emotions opening under your feet.

It’s a silent cry in the darkness, the moon bright through the curtains, bathing your room with more light than even your nightlight. You’d just hung up the call from John and suddenly tears are falling down your cheeks. You miss him. You miss them all. You’re terrified for Simon and Johnny, you’re yearning for your alpha, for your comfort. You want the bed to dip behind you, for his arms to slide around you and hold you close. You want his scent to wrap around you and permeate your being.

You’re homesick.

The magic of the first week has worn off and now you’re feeling the complex emotions that have been brewing under the surface. There’s a deep ache in your chest, harsh and painful. You curl up tight in a ball, trying to ease the pain of missing home, of missing your alpha.

You drift off into a hazy sleep, floating in and out all night until you finally manage to slip into a deep sleep for a couple of hours early in the morning.

You wake later than you would have wanted to, and for a moment you forget where you are. There’s a warm weight against your back, and for a moment you think you’re back in the barracks, that John is sleeping behind you, pressed up against your back.

But as you wake up, you remember where you are: hundreds of miles away from the barracks and John.

The sun is up, shining its golden light through your window. You turn as best you can, the heavy weight pinning the blankets down over you.

You’re met with black and white fur. Storm has somehow snuck her way into your room and curled up on the bed with you. Tears prick your eyes as you turn to face her, running a hand down her back. She lets out a sigh, shifting her body onto her side so her head rests on your pillow.

“Hi Storm.” You whisper, burying your face in her fur.

She lays there, breathing steady and even as you try not to cry, as you fight the emotions welling up inside of you again. Storm licks your hand, dragging her soft tongue against your skin, almost like she’s trying to lick up your sadness.

“Okay, okay,” You sniffle, pulling your hand away. You lay there for a moment longer, both of you still in the quiet morning. Lily must be out gathering eggs or taking care of Mabel. You don’t feel bad for sleeping in this time.

Storm climbs down off the bed as you sit up, stretching your arms over your head. You grab a change of clothes before heading for the bathroom to get ready for the day.

Storm is waiting in the hallway for you and the two of you walk together towards the kitchen. Lily is sitting at the table, reading a magazine.

“Mornin’, hen.” She greets you before looking down at Storm. “Mornin’ ye sneak. Sorry if she disturbed ye. I tried to get her back out.”

You shake your head. “She didn’t disturb me. I didn’t even know she was there.”

Lily hums, patting Storm’s head. “Ye must have needed her, then.”

Tears start to prick behind your eyes, those emotions that you thought you had shoved down starting to come back to the surface. You know Lily won’t judge you for crying, for being homesick, but still that fear of showing too many emotions starts to overwhelm you.

“It’s alright, hen.” Lily says, on her feet before you even know it, pulling you into a hug. “Homesick, huh.”

It’s not a question.

“I understand.” She says softly, patting your head as you struggle to hold those emotions down. “I would be too.”

Her hands rub your back, her scent strong in the air as she tries to help comfort you. You both know it won’t be enough, but still the thought of it is sweet. She’s doing her best to try and make this easy for you, to try and help you through the inevitable breakdown of missing your pack and your alpha. From what John has said, it won’t be long before he’s finally free of the shackles of the military. A few more days at most before he’ll be making the final drive up here to retrieve you, and you’ll move on to whatever is waiting for you on the other side.

It makes you sad to leave too, though. You’ve grown comfortable on the farm, adjusting to life here and its routine and stability. It’s kept you more active than anything, and you’re going to miss having an excuse to do more than read and sleep all day. Of course, taking care of a house will involve a lot more, but you know there’s only so much you can do even in that regard.

You want to feel useful.

You don’t cry as much as you thought you might. Your thoughts have kept you stable, ideas forming, plans putting themselves together. You lean against Lily’s chest, arms wrapped around her. You’ll be forever grateful for everything she’s done for you, even if she doesn’t realize she’s done it.

You pull away, wiping the tears from your cheeks. “Thank you.” You say.

Lily gives you a soft smile, petting your hair. “Of course, hen. Ye know I’m always here if you need a hug.”

You laugh, sniffling. “You give good hugs.”

“I’ve been told that.” She pats the top of your head. “Now, let’s get some food in ye.”

Storm sleeps in your room from then on. You’re not sure Lily could change her mind even if she tried. She’s on the bed as soon as you open the door to Johnny’s room, making herself at home. You’re silently grateful for her comforting presence, often waking cuddling her up on your pillow.

You’ve become inseparable, unless Lily is in the kitchen, then she betrays you for the prospect of any handouts. You don’t blame her one bit. You’d be in there begging too if Lily didn’t involve you as much as she has started doing. You had asked for recipes, so Lily had taken that as her excuse to start mentoring you in the kitchen, teaching you everything she knows.

You’ve been kept busy, and you’re grateful for it.

Storm follows you around as you do your chores, self-appointed chores. You fetch more hay for Mabel as she’s running low, give her a good brush to help loosen some of her shedding fur, feed the chickens and gather the eggs, pick a few of the last winter vegetables that have ripened before helping Lily make lunch.

You even get to hold a baby lamb.

You fall in love almost instantly.

Another animal to add to your list of animals to convince John to get for you.

Your last day on the farm comes with an unexpected morning phone call. Usually John called at night, but this time catches you by surprise at the breakfast table. You got up to answer, Storm following you down the hall as you speak to John.

“Hello?”

“Hello, sweetheart.” John says. “I have good news.”

You already know what he’s going to say. “Oh?”

“My paperwork was finalized this morning. I’ll be coming up tomorrow to get you.”

Nerves and excitement boil in your stomach. You’re excited that it’s finally happened, that he’s finally free and you’ll get to see him in just a few hours. At the same time you’re nervous for what this means, for this start of the new chapter. There’s also a bittersweet edge to it, from the thought of leaving the farm after the wonderful almost two weeks you’ve spent here.

“That’s great!” You say, trying to sound convincing, channeling that inner excitement.

“I’ll call before I leave so you know when to expect me.” He says, sounding almost relieved.

“Sounds good.” You say, leaning down to pet Storm as she paws at you. “I can’t wait to see you again.”

“I know. It’s been long enough.” He says. “I have to get packing, but I’ll talk to you tonight, okay?”

You nod even though he can’t see you. “Okay.”

“Love you, sweetheart.”

“Love you too.”

You walk back to the table, your stomach in knots. Excitement and nerves still race through you. You’re not quite sure what to feel yet, all of it a bit too much at once.

“Everything alright?” Murray asks.

You nod. “John’s paperwork finally went through. He’ll be here tomorrow.”

Lily cheers. “That’s wonderful news! I’m sure yer goin’ tae be happy to see him.”

You nod again. “I am. I’ve missed him.”

“I bet.” She says reaching over to pat your hand.

“But I’m going to be sad to leave too.” You say. “I’ve really enjoyed being here.”

“And we’ve enjoyed havin’ ye.” Murray says.

“Ye can always visit, whenever ye want to.” Lily says, giving you a smile. “Yer always welcome here.”

“Thank you.” You say, trying to avoid looking down at Storm and her puppy eyes. You have a feeling she’ll be the hardest to say goodbye to.

You do your chores the next morning despite the fact John will arrive in a few hours. It just feels right to spend your last day on the farm doing as much as you can, savoring your last taste of farm life. You’ll miss Mabel, and you’ll even miss the chickens despite the few little cuts on your hands from sharp beaks. You’ll miss having stuff to do. Sure, you’re going to settle into your new life easier than John will, but at the same time, you’re going to withdraw from this routine you’ve grown to follow.

You spend the time after lunch cuddling with Storm on the couch. She seems sadder than usual, almost as if she knows this is going to be goodbye for now. Even Bron is at your feet, curled in a ball as you all wait for the sound of tires on the gravel driveway. Your bags are packed and by the door, including your Wellies, ready to be taken away from this surrogate home, from your surrogate family. Well, they are your family, you suppose. An extension of your pack member.

You’re not ready to get up as the sound of tires eventually does come, Murray rising from his seat to greet John at the door. You let out a sigh, patting Storm one more time before standing.

It feels almost surreal seeing John again after nearly two weeks away. He greets you with open arms and a smile, not even waiting for anything to be said. You’re in his arms almost as fast as he opened them, pressing yourself close against his chest. You’ve been without him for longer, but this time it felt different. You were hanging over the precipice of a drastic change. His arrival has been the first step in that change, the start of a new chapter in both of your lives.

“I trust you’ve been well taken care of.” He says as you pull away.

“Very well.” You say, smiling.

“And ye better keep that up.” Lily says threateningly.

“Don’t worry, I will.” He says, giving her a hug. “Thank you for doing this.”

“It’s no problem. We’re always happy to have some company.” She says.

“Ye can visit us any time ye like.” Murray says, shaking John’s hand.

John grabs your bags, the four of you heading outside with the dogs. You hug Lily, tears falling as you say your goodbye.

“Call me.” She says, patting your back. “For anything, even just tae chat. And don’t forget to visit.”

“Thank you.” You say, wiping your cheeks. “For everything.”

“Yer welcome, hen.” She says, brushing a hand over your head.

“Thank you, too.” You say to Murray, giving him a hug as well.

“Of course.” He says, patting your back. “It was our pleasure.”

You kneel down in the gravel, giving Storm a hug. She licks your cheek, letting out a quiet whine. “I’ll see you again soon, okay?”

She gives you one last lick before you stand, giving Bron some pats before you turn away, heading towards the car. Sadness but also joy fills you as you climb into the passenger seat, buckling your seat belt. You turn to look behind you, the car full of boxes, but in the seat behind John your big bear sits, buckled in.

You smile softly as John climbs into the driver’s seat, turning to look at you before he turns on the car.

“Ready?” He asks.

You nod. “Ready.”

He turns the key, the car rumbling to life beneath you. They wave as you drive down the driveway, and you watch the house until it disappears around the bend. You turn back in your seat, letting out a sigh as John turns onto the road towards Glasgow.

“Can we get a dog? And some chickens? And a cow? And some sheep?” you ask.

John chuckles. “Let’s find a place to live, first. Then we’ll talk about that.”

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#call of duty #call of duty fic #cod fic #poly 141 x reader #task force 141 x reader #john price x reader #captain price x reader #kyle garrick x reader #gaz x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #soap x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #alpha/beta/omega dynamics #omegaverse #a/b/o

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vaguelycryptictea · 2 days ago

Text

He heard Marak's praises, "You are doing well, I am proud. Stay vigilant, the worst is yet to come."

He didn't want to worry her, they had just pulled themselves together. Finally out of the frying pan. Things were calm...but talking was key to making whatever this was, work. Finishing up the wood haul he walked the empty halls to the dining space. Small, enough for just the two of them. Evander slumped into one of the shoddily crafted chairs, he had made this one himself and could feel one of the legs was uneven. He had wanted to talk to her before...before this happened. How do you even approach the topic, "Hey I'm sorry, I thought I killed you and that's why I buried you anyway I can hear the voice of a God and they're warning me that shit is going to go sideways."

His head fell into his hands, dark feathers puffing along his arms in annoyance. Liet would be in soon, she was...hunting, both for her own needs and his. She was the best situated to understand this though. He had to believe she would. Gods, he needed someone he could rely on. Their kingdom was going to need a strong backbone. They could be that backbone, he just- how do you start?

His god seemed to think it was all already in motion, that he and Liet would travel this track and one day oppose the Empire with a mighty kingdom of their own. Evander couldn't see it. He liked men first of all and he was fairly certain the way Liet looked at him was the same way a wolf looked at a particularly annoying cub. Not love, well not the type of love that would make them crawl into bed and bang each other until a kid popped out.

Yet, the vision was clear. By thier guidance a kingdom would rise, their child its heir. What the fuck Marak, he thought, you pick a pair of gays for this? Homophobic ass god.

Evander sighed again sinking deeper into the lopsided chair. There were other options of course, for children. They were a mess on their own though, adding a child to the mix. Well, that was just asking for trouble. Shit. What if...what if Liet was already pregnant? He shut down the thought, the way she drank... Definitely not. She could and already had out-drank him, multiple times since they had established themselves here. Running his hands through his hair, Evander made a mental note to ask anyway. Better to look like an idiot than be caught off guard.

He heard the wind pick up and rain beginning to fall outside. She should have been back by now, the thought struck him as he looked up through the only window in the room watching droplets hurl themselves down the panes. A quick peruse wouldn't hurt he decided, picking up his shotgun and coat. He hated the rain but if Liet was close maybe he could help her carry whatever beast she must be lugging through the muck out there before the storm got too bad.

Ugh, the muck.

He locked the door as a gale blew behind him but not before immediately stepping into a mud pile. His claw and a good portion of his black feathered thighs were covered in a disgusting shade of greenish brown mud. Now caked in slime, he all but gave up any hopes of staying clean. Lightning cracked behind the old tree on the hill ahead and Evander jogged up the incline to get a better view. He only slipped twice before he reached the makeshift shelter, the old beech that marked their haven. You could see it from miles off on a good day, but today was not a good day. Bad flying weather, especially in a storm like this. She could have holed up somewhere, he thought scanning the sparse plains ahead. That would mean she wouldn't be home until tomorrow night though and it really wasn't like her to stop just because of a little rain.

Stay vigilant. The worst is yet to come.

Thunder rumbled overhead as if highlighting the Gods warning in his mind. Surely, they couldn't have meant now. Like right now? But here Evander was, watching, waiting, hoping he wasn't right and that the sick feeling in his stomach would all amount to nothing. This weather, how fucking miser- Another crack of lightning revealed a shadowy form in the distance and Evander let out the breath he had been holding. "Thank Marak," he mumbled, words ripped away by the storm which seemed to intensify with each passing moment. The wind whipped branches above him, light crackled overhead and the next sight made him wish he hadn't given his praises up so soon. Five additional forms followed the first, brief flashes igniting the hillside. Gunfire highlighted their pursuit as they encircled her cutting off Liet's steady progress to the hillside.

Evander was already three steps into his hop, letting his arms carry him in a glide down the hill shotgun slung over his back. He prayed to Marak that stray bolt wouldn't fry him on the way down and streaked forward cutting through the rain towards the battle below.

"We got her surrounded!"

"Quick the nets! The nets!"

"Watch yourself boys she's a live one-"

KAKOOOM

Lightning broke through the sky but Liet didn't need it to see her quarry. Five of them. They had mostly been keeping their distance until the rain started, and then she figured they thought the storm would cover their tracks. A woman, already covered in blood, limping along at an abysmal pace. She appeared to be an easy target, she might have deemed herself easy prey too in another life.

Now though the rain poured in thick sheets, gunfire cracked in the night as they gave chase. She had started the evening with three hatchets, a bow, and a quiver of fifteen arrows. Plenty to hunt with and bring back what she needed. Unfortunately, her day had gone sideways sometime late in the evening, and all she had left was one thick double-sided hatchet and the wooden shield she carried belted to the back of her bag. The shield had to stay put, and the hatchet would only be good for one throw. She'd be lucky to find it again in this storm. No, none of the sensible options were available so...she picked up her pace. Pushing down the pain that shot up her leg each time she stepped, ignoring the dizziness that threatened to bring the world down around her. Another bullet streaked by as the old Beech came into view, its great limbs thrashing in the harsh conditions. Home. She was close, she could make a stand on the hillsi-

She felt a bullet lodge itself into her right shoulder. The pain stole her breath and the power of the shot sent her tumbling forward. Her face slammed into the mud before she could catch herself. Quickly she tried to drag herself up from the mud rising to her knees before she felt something slam into her on the right side, pain ripping through the raw wound the bullet left in her arm. The man, who was half her size and thought he had the upper hand, looked shocked as not only did Liet not crumple as he expected. She had the audacity to bury her ax in his foot, smiling as the man screamed in horror. Liet used the time to stand again then caught his knee with the heel of her foot as she yanked the axe back out again. She didn't hear the snapping of bone so much as she felt it beneath her shoe. Out of the corner of her eye Liet caught the other four moving together, nets in hand.

They don't know what they're dealing with, she thought snarling at their approach careful not to show her teeth. One of the braver ones closed the distance, a long-handled mace slamming down where Liet's leg had been a moment before. She replied by burying her hatchet between his eyes trading for the mace as the final three grew insidiously wary. She was happy Evander wasn't here to see this, from what little she knew of the man he didn't like blood or violence. Liet weaved beneath a poorly launched net delivering an uppercut with the new mace, to the underfed woman who had thrown it. Well except for that time, Evander nearly killed her but that was water under the bridge. Liet spun, mace leaving her hand to crush the chest of a man who had stumbled in the mud in an attempt to stab her in the back. Of the pair left one was on thier knees shaking, trying to retrieve something from the muddy floor while the other charge her with what looked like a spear. She watched him creep closer, poised like he was corralling a wild animal. Fine, if he wanted an animal...

She was a blur, an imperceivable blip. There before the man one second and biting, tearing, ripping out his throat in the next. Blood poured from his neck like an open faucet and Liet gorged herself. Immediately she felt an unrivaled ecstasy, she loved this. Gods she didn't realize how much she had needed this. Her leg snapped back into it's proper alignment bone mending in moments as she dug her fangs deeper and deeper into the dying mans neck. Hearing his gurgling scream dull to a whimper lost in the gale. Liet felt the warm coppery liquid coating her throat and-

finally got ahold of herself, just in time to see the last man cock back the hammer of his revolver. He was trembling as he took in the mangled bodies lying around them. He was a head taller than Liet, fit, clean-shaven, maybe mid-forties.

"Easy now," She shouted over the wind, she let go of the corpse slowly lifting her hands to show she was, now, unarmed. "We can go, you can leave and nobody else dies." She was drenched, blood covered her face, her mouth, her clothes and she just wanted to be sitting by a warm fire again. The final man seemed to think about this before lowering the gun, he nodded then backed up and began running in the opposite direction. Liet groaned as she lowered a hand to the hole in her shoulder watching the man run, slip then get up and run again. She hoped Evander was still sleeping, it would make explaining her night out much easier.

No such luck, Liet saw the flurry of black and blue feathers denoting the Harpy as he landed next to her shotgun poised just as she'd taught him. She knew he wouldn't hit what he was aiming at, not at this range. It was probably still worth letting him practice though. Decision made she watched as Evander sighted the man, held his breath for a beat, and pulled the trigger. He didn't stumble at all, an improvement over their last session which showed that had also been practicing on his own. The man in the distance though had incredibly terrible luck it seemed as lightning inexplicably struck just after Evander had fired. The two of them watched as the man in the distance crumpled, Evander lowering the shotgun and looking down at her before wordlessly holding out an arm to help her along.

Together they limped back to the house, a hole in the side of a grassy cliff. Liet lowered herself in front of the fireplace, a blanket was draped over her wet shaking frame as she tried not to bleed on it. She felt the hole in her shoulder knitting itself back together again. The cuts from earlier were almost healed as well pink and new, but Evander had already noticed them and given his usual tsk of disapproval as he set a pot to boil. Her hands tingled as the feeling came back to them warming near the flames. She didn't like being this close to the hearth her mind screaming that the fire would burn her to ashes but she knew her body would start shutting down if she let herself get too cold. Being this tired helped quiet that part of her mind too, the one that constantly begged her to rip her companion to shreds, draining him until all that was left was a husk.

Yes, those thoughts had their allure but then she thought, where would I find another person so willing to breathe the same air as a Vampyr? Carefully she pulled her pack from beneath the blanket, gently laying it between herself and the fire. Evander wasn't even annoying, he was decent in a fight - despite his disdain for anything that might get him dirty, and above all not a coward. Liet emptied the side pouches first, revealing crushed berries and her leather waterskin that leaked from the new bullet hole. The fact that he stayed with her this far was unexpected. So no, she couldn't let that primal version of herself take a chunk out of him. Liet liked having him around and, she assumed, he would probably know what to do about this issue.

Sat in her lap, Liet's burlap bag curling around the creatures peach toned skin, was a child. A fuzzy tuft of firey red hair covering a set of light green eyes set into a pudgy little face. Yes, this was an issue, it didn't cry which she found rather surprising as she was fairly certain they were supposed to do that. Maybe this one was past the age for crying, Liet held her hand out as the child reached up for her. Maybe she could sneak it into their bed...no, they both slept so poorly already. A bad nightmare might cause one of them to crush it. Then all that effort earlier in the night would have been for nothing. "I lost two good axes for you little hatchet." Liet chided softly, letting the little monster chew on her hand. "That'll teach those silly cultists huh?" It gurgled a chipper spout of bubbles as drool coated her hand. "Alright," She sighed, "we're going to have to talk to Evander about today."

"Ba-dra, btaa-a-a"

"I agree little hatchet, we'll go to him now then."

"Braaaa-dtch"

"Yes, I will be getting food on the way. You can have some berry mush."

"Yaa-a-mraaa"

Evander could hear the woman talking to herself down the hall. This was their usual routine, she waited up by the fire putting together the things they'd need for the next day, not sleeping until the daylight began to creep in. Then she'd crawl into bed and sleep the few hours before he got out of bed to start his morning.

Slowly his schedule was becoming more nocturnal. It just made things easier, besides it's not like he had a crippling reaction to moonlight. Adjusting his schedule was the obvious fix. He had decided that the conversation could happen tomorrow. A kingdom wasn't founded overnight and Liet needed energy to heal from whatever near-death experience had her limping home today. That woman, what the hell was her problem? Coming back with a new assortment of life-ending scars every day. Was she trying to die? The thought scared him but was quickly followed by another. Was she...limit testing...her Vampyrism? Now that sounded like something she would do. Just then the door cracked open, Liet poking her head into the darkened room. He rolled to his side, eyes narrowing in the stream of light.

"Can I speak with you Twig?" Twig. It was the name she had given him before they knew each other.

"You can just call me Evander."

"Yes...but you still call me Lucky."

"Point taken Lucky," He sat up in bed. "Are you planning to join me or is there something else?"

"Yes, there is something else." She shuffled in the doorway, looking less like a bloodthirsty killer and more like an anxious...

"Lucky, this is the part where you tell me what the something else is." Evander was fully sat up now. Pulling a shirt on and rubbing the dark from his eyes.

"Will you, come back out. To see. It's an issue, maybe we can...I don't know. I am not sure what do do with it."

Evander couldn't help the sigh that escaped his lips. "Yes, I'll be out in a moment then." As quickly as she had arrived, Liet disappeared from the doorway with an unnerving grace. He had tried not to see the way she had ripped that mans throat out but it was impossible to overlook.

As ready as he could be in his nightwear, Evander made it to the hall before he heard the impossible. A child's laughter followed by his Gods voice ringing through his mind, “This will hurt.”

The abandoned child you’ve taken in sleeps on your lap as the god who gave you immortality softly warns you. “This will hurt.”

#Evander & Liet #almost went into Thunder Rolls lyrics there lmao #whump scenario #whump #whumpee #caretaker #whumper #writers on tumblr #writing community #writer community

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eden-axe · 1 day ago

Text

One Grey Hair

LADS Men x gn!MC

Summary: During your day to day life he finds a bit of grey in your hair. He realizes now that at least in this life you both get to grow old together.

I tried to make this as gender neutral as possible, but some parts indicate and afab MC apologies.

Xavier

Word Count: 616

Xavier is watering the plants first thing when he wakes up but he is thinking about you as you said you would be home later today. You went out last night for a girls night with Tara, Simone, and Yvonne and planned on staying over at Tara’s place.

As he is spacing out and mindlessly watering the plants he finally registers the smell of bacon and pancakes. He quickly puts down the watering can, almost tipping it over, as he runs over to the kitchen.

‘Did I start sleep cooking?’ He panics as he slides into the kitchen.

His wide eyes relax at the sight of you turning around with two plates of breakfast. You jump slightly, not expecting Xavier to be awake this early. You smile at him and give a small greeting as you walk over to the kitchen island to put the plates down.

As you walk by Xavier to the kitchen island, his pupils dilate as he gets a glimpse of your hair. A few strands of grey hair tucked behind your ear, to Xavier seeing these few grey hairs made you look even more beautiful.

He silently walks over to the kitchen island across from you and slowly picks at the food.

“You’re home early.” He quietly states, his eyes still locked onto your hair.

You look up from your own plate, “Oh, yeah. Yvonne offered me a ride home since she had to go to work later, and I wanted to get home soon since we had a date later. Remember? I wanted to get some actual rest since we barely got any sleep.”

You laugh lightly at the memories of last night. Xavier hums and asks how your night went. You go on about your night with the girls, a yawn in between each memory. Xavier listens, but watches the way the grey hair moves as you move your head along as you speak about the fun you had last night. He smiles at how excited you sounded about last night.

Soon you slowly stop talking as Xavier finishes eating, “Are you alright? Is something on my face?”

“What do you mean darling?” Xavier absent minded asks.

“Xavier!” you break his focus, “Seriously what are you staring at? You ate really slow today, and your mind is kinda elsewhere right now.”

“Oh.”

“Oh?” You tilt your head.

“Your hair, it’s greying.” Xavier smiles when he finally lets it set in.

You feel your face get hot as you turn away, “Yeah, Simone pointed it out last night and I thought about dying it to match my hair”

“Don’t!” He exclaims sitting up from the stool. He looks at your shocked face and coughs before sitting back down, “Don’t, it looks nice, I like it.”

“You do?”

He nods and walks over to you and sits besides you and reaches out to examine the grey hair up close. You watch him examine your hair as you continue your previous thought, “Yeah, well Tara, uh, she had your same enthusiasm about being against me dying my hair.”

He lets go of your hair and grabs the plates, “You go get rest, like you planned to. I’ll clean up here alright.”

You yawn and nod. Xavier smiles and kisses your temple and sends you off to bed.

When he hears the bedroom door shut he pulls out his phone. He scrolls through his contacts and finds Tara’s number and sends her a quick text. A simple, ‘Thx u 4 being a good friend’

Xavier then goes to finish the dishes as he lists out the rest of the morning chores he has to do before you get up later for your date.

Rafayel

Word Count: 645

After days of begging you finally let Rafayel dress you up and sketch you. He picked out one of his white shirts, and you decided to forego the bottoms as the shirt reached down to your mid thigh. You walk over to the couch as Rafayel finishes setting up the area with pillows, blankets, water, and snacks. He turns around when he hears the bedroom door open, and he stops in his place when he gets a look at you.

“Wow,” he whispered, his breath stolen from his lungs, “Just, wow.”

Your face burns as you smile at him. You walk over to his statue-like state and wrap your arms around his shoulders. “I’m guessing you like it?” You tease near his ear.

You hear him swallow as you kiss below his ear. He wraps his arms around your lower back as he says both of you side to side, “Cutie, you are divine. You have no idea how lucky I am.”

“I can guess,” You pull back and stare at him, “So shall we get started?”

Rafayel blushed and turned around to hide his flushed face, “Yes, um. Please sit, I'll grab my sketch book.”

You laugh as you take a seat on the couch. You sink into the lush pillows, and drape a cotton blanket over one of your legs. You bring your other leg up onto the couch, at the same time you bring one of your hands behind your head. You use your other hand to move your hair from your face before placing it back on your lap.

When you look up Rafayel is sitting on a stool staring at you. You smile back and nod at him to begin.

He immediately starts sketching. He takes his time looking over your features, and you can feel his gaze over your body as he slowly pencils in each shadow and highlights that painted over your form. Rafayel starts to make simple conversation about anything and everything with you: His aunt, memories and traditions of Lemuria, upcoming art shows Thomas has planned for him, and even your upcoming anniversary. You also make conversation about your own work, childhood, and previous anniversaries you both shared.

“Raf~” you cooed, “Don’t think I don’t know the difference between referencing and staring.” You covered your chest and laughed. You brought an orange slice to your lips as Rafayel quickly took his eyes off you and back to the paper.

“Well I just like to admire,” he takes another peak, “Can you really blame me?”

Soon your conversations start to slow as Rafayel starts to look at you for longer periods, his gaze unfocused as they reach your face. Soon enough he puts his pencil down as he gets up slowly, placing his sketchbook on the stool.

“Raf?” You start to feel uncomfortable as he stares down at you.

He lifts up your chin and tilts it to the side. Before you can even process what is happening you hear the click of a camera, and Rafayel’s phone in your face. He is taking multiple photos at different angles.

You grab his phone and pull him down onto the couch, “Love what has gotten into you?”

You look at his gallery and see the focus of the pictures, not of you, but silver strands of hair that are laid atop of your head. You reach up to touch where you guessed the grey hairs were, but Rafayel’s lips were resting along your temple.

When he pulled back he grabbed your left hand, and brought it to his mouth, “Please let me paint you. I need to capture your maturing beauty, you are aging like a fine wine cutie.” He kisses your wedding ring and looks at you with pleading eyes.

When you agree with a gentle sigh, he quickly runs over to grab his canvas and paints.

Zayne

Word Count: 1,181

You had convinced Zayne to go to the award ceremony the Akso Hospital was hosting, where he was going to be given another award for his performance and contribution to protocore syndrome.

“My love I don’t see the importance, I’ve been awarded things like this many times. What makes this time different?” Zayne asks as he looks at you through the mirror as he adjusts his tie.

You sigh and walk behind him, “It’s because you aren’t getting any younger, soon you won’t be able to attend these ceremonies with your old bones.”

He lets out a breath of amusement, “My love, I’m only 48, and my health is just fine. I will be able to attend more than enough award events for the coming years, much to my dismay.”

“Zayne,” you whine, and wrap your arms around Zayne’s arm, “I want to see people praise my lovely husband. I don’t normally have off the day of your ceremonies, and since you never want to go… Now is the perfect time to attend one.”

Zayne turns towards you and uses his free arm to pull you in closer, “If it will make my partner happy, then so be it.”

He pulls a jacket over your shoulders and leaned down to kiss you.

“Shall we go?”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“It’s stuffy here.” Zayne squeezes your hand as you both make your way to a less populated area of the banquet hall.

“You say that whenever you have to attend a meeting at the hospital.”

Zayne just laughs as you both find a small standing table near the wall.

Soon while you two are talking over non alcoholic drinks, Greyson comes over and taps Zayne’s arm, “Hey one of the hospital's sponsors wants to speak with you. Mr. Richard Smith.”

Zayne puts his drink down on the table, “Alright give me a moment,” He pats your hand that lays on the table, “I won’t be long. I’ll be back before the award announcement starts.”

You nod and kiss his hand, “Don’t worry Mr Popular, I’ll have Greyson keep me company until you return.”

Zayne laughs as you drag Greyson over to your side and shoo him away. It takes a moment to find Mr Smith, but the first thing he notices about him is liquor filled boasts. He was a man much older in age, and robust around the face. It takes Mr Smith a moment to realize the man of the hour is standing by his side. It took for his date, a much younger looking woman; She looked akin to a model with her figure.

“Ah Doctor Li, what a pleasure to finally meet the shining star of Akso Hospital. I hope all is well with you and your patients.” His breath is heavy, and thick.

Zayne internally recoils at the smell mixed with his dates perfume, but puts on a pleasant smile; The kind of smile he would give to his more stubborn, yet younger, patients, “Ah, yes I make sure all my patients are taken good care of before taking any time off for things such as this. I hear you are one of the hospital's sponsors.”

“Ah I don’t wish to take much credit from the work you all do here,” an obvious lie, “But indeed, I pay quite a hefty fee for this place to keep its high quality equipment.”

“Well I must thank you for your generosity then, without it many patients would not have the care they need.” While half sarcastic, Zayne understood that his words were true, so he was truly grateful for his selfish need to be praised by the public.

Mr Smith laughs and keeps the conversation, or rather one sided monologue, going for quite a while. Zayne tried to excuse himself, but could not find an appropriate time to leave, and slowly his irritation had grown too much. He just wanted to return back to your side.

“I’m very sorry Mr Smith,” Zayne’s voice was short, causing Mr Smith to be silent, “I came with my spouse, and I do not wish to leave them alone any longer. You understand, right?”

The older man moves his hand further down his date’s waist, “I can understand that desire, especially with this lovely lady by my side tonight.”

“I can imagine, so if you’ll—”

“But may I ask one more question Doctor,” before Zayne could respond Mr Smith continued, “Your spouse, their getting quite older now, their age is starting to show Doctor Zayne, especially on their body. Are you sure they are someone you want on your arm for these types of events.”

Zayne can feel an icy chill run down his wrists. He clenches his hand, “Mr Smith, if I might speak plainly for a moment.”

“But of course, we are all for honesty tonight!” He raises his half drunken glass.

Zayne grabs a glass from a passing waiter, “Well, I’d rather we not be as honest as you sir. As my partner’s physique is no one else’s concern but mine. And for your information, I think their appearance makes them look mature and elegant, and it's given their body plenty of experience for me to enjoy.”

Mr Smith and his date stare at him wide eyed. Zayne takes that as his cue to take his leave. As he walks back to the table where he left you. It did not take long to find you, and with the old man's words still ringing in his ears, he can’t help but study your appearance more than before. When he gets a good look at you from a distance that's when he notices the way your hair has started growing grey. He started to move quicker, and soon you both made eye contact, but then the lights dimmed and a melodic voice carried across the room, “Thank you all for attending this night's charity gala, and award ceremony dedicated to our lovely doctors.”

The audience claps and gathers closer, making it so Zayne cannot squeeze through back to you.

“Now for the first award we want to dedicate to our most prized doctor. He has contributed to many successful surgeries over the years, and helped us get one step closer to helping cure those with protocore syndrome. Please welcome to the stage Doctor Zayne.”

Zayne walks up to the stage, giving quick apologies as he pushes through the crowd to the stage. He grabs the mic and bows, giving a quick thank you, “I would also like to give a final thank you to my wonderful spouse who has been with me through it all. I hope to have many more years with them til we are old, grey, and can no longer accept awards.”

Zayne then takes the award and bow once more, then he immediately walks over to your side, Greyson long gone, and gives you a quick kiss. He then links your hands together and slowly makes his way out of the venue with you. With his words to Mr Smith ringing in his head, and he plans on acting on them.

Sylus

Word Count: 503

You park your bike in the garage, and as the garage door closes behind you, you drag your feet into the house. Your uniform felt uncomfortable. All you wanted was to take a shower and take a long rest with Sylus.

“Hon, I’m back!” You called out, making your way through each of the large rooms.

“I’m in the kitchen sweetie~” Sylus's voice carried. You slowly made your way into the kitchen where Sylus is. He is making a small fruit board when you enter. You reach out to Sylus and hug him from behind, and you are able to feel his chest rumble as he laughs at your tired state.

“Are you tired kitten?” He rubs your arm gently as you bury your face in between his shoulder blades.

You hum, hugging him tighter.

“Go lay down on the couch. I’ll join you in a moment, alright.”

You hum, but take your time letting him go. When you manage to drag yourself to the connecting living room you notice the couches state. It was covered in soft pillows and blankets; Even your favorite plush was on the couch, wrapped in one of the blankets.

You grab the plush and sit on the far side of the couch waiting for Sylus. You think about your long weekend and hug the plush tighter.

“I believe I told you to lay down sweetie.” He muses, holding the plate of fruit. You pat the couch and Sylus huffs a smile placing the food down on the coffee table. He picks you up with ease and lays down, placing you on top of him.

He reaches for an orange slice, “How was your trip?”

“Long,” you bite the slice he placed near your lips, “but successful.”

“That’s my prized hunter.” He kisses your head.

You continue to talk about your mission and how you and your team got lost due to a wanderer taking out the train lines. While you talked Sylus took to turning on the TV and putting on the show you both had started weeks prior. Soon enough he felt your body relax as your words got quieter and quieter as your attention gradually shifted from the stress of your work, to the enjoyment of your show.

Sylus is also watching the show, as he keeps his hands occupied with playing with the ends of your hair. Soon he realizes your hair has coiled around his hand and he looks down at his hand. That’s when he sees thin silver lines wrap around his fingers.

He slowly untangles his hand from your hair, then motions to Mephisto to get a close look at you. When Mephie perches on the couch, Sylus starts to single you the section of hair that has turned grey. He wants to look at this later, but also wants to enjoy this silent moment with you a while longer. He was glad that in this life, you both can finally live a full life, and that is his greatest happiness.

Caleb

Word Count: 475

Caleb wakes up with a silent jolt as his arm wakes him up with a sting. He always makes sure to sleep with his arm off the bed for this reason. He glances over to you to make sure you are still sleeping; He sees you laying on his chest, wrapped in his other arm, sleeping peacefully.

He flexes his unfeeling hand, his eyes narrow at the steel glowing in the neon lights of Skyhaven pouring through the window. He turns his head to you and watches your chest rise and fall steadily. He smiles and brushes your hair with his other hand, feeling the warmth of your face on his fingertips.

Caleb starts to feel you move and stills his movement. As you stir for a moment, you just end up snuggling closer into his chest. Caleb stays frozen until he feels confident you aren't going to wake up. He then moves his hand away from your face towards your hair.

He stares at your face as a small smile rests on your resting face. He mimics your smile content in the life he has managed to build with you. Then he slows his hand movement down as he starts to study the grey in your hair. It was tangled around other strands, but it has grown in count since the last time he checked.

He reaches out with his robotic hand to examine it closer, but when the metallic silver is put against the natural grey of your hair he pauses. His hand hovers over your face; He knows that this is a new arm, an arm no longer connected to Ever, but still a symbol of his imperfection compared to you.

Caleb starts to pull his hand away when it is quickly pulled to your face. He looks at his hand and sees you holding his hand onto your face.

None of you say anything, but when you kiss his prosthetic hand, he knows that you are scolding him with love.

“It’s nothing pips, you don’t need to worry,” He brushes his thumb on the apple of your cheek.

You hum at the contact, “Are you sure? I know you have something on your mind.”

“It’s just,” he pauses, taking another glance at your hair, “You’re old.”

You sit up, “What! I’m only 42!”

Caleb’s eyes widen, then pulls you down onto his chest, “No, no, no. That’s not what I meant honey.”

“Then what did you mean jerk?” You roll your eyes.

“I just meant that I’m glad we are able to grow old together,” He brings your grey hair to his face, “I never thought I’d be lucky enough to see this day.”

He lets go of your hair and hugs you tighter. Soon you both drift back to sleep, deciding that today is a good day to sleep in.

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rafesangelita · 3 days ago

Note

not a position thing but I NEEEEED to see a deeper dive of what dad!jb and puppy do when no ones at the chateau

₊˚⊹♡ ICKY CHATEAU ACTIVITES . . .

warnings: lots of pet play (you’ve been warned, pls don’t read if that’s not your thing!) teasing, dry humping, pillow humping, use of the name ‘daddy’ (keep scrolling if that makes you uncomfortable please!), oral fixation, oral (m. receiving), spit, fingering, edging, crying, brief mention of pee

a/n: sorry i didn’t get to post more dad!johnb x puppy!reader fics today, i’m currently working on two drafts of them + a rafe sex postion request <3

🦴 crawling (naked) :

john b loves it when puppy lives up to her name. she’s giggling as she crawls over to him, her hands and knees brushing against the hardwood floor of the chateau as he bosses her around, making her go and get stuff for him with a wave of his finger. the only thing she has on during this little playtime of theirs is a pair of fluffy, striped knee-high socks and a pink choker, john b occasionally tugging on it before allowing her to sit up on the couch with him. there’s nothing that turns him on more than catching a glimpse of her bare cunt as she lays in her puppy bed— and yes, he fucks her on all fours too. (pope and jj have accidentally walked in on this happening before..)

🦴 dry humping/pillow humping :

puppy is notorious for humping on absolutely everything. when she’s feeling particularly needy she’ll seat herself on john b’s ankle and wrap her arms around his leg, looking up at him with her puppy dog eyes for permission to get herself off. “please, daddy?” she’s already grinding her hips as she pouts, the man above her giving her a small nod before squeezing her cheeks together and muffling her little cries. whenever she’s not latched to john b’s leg, and the house is a little more quieter than usual, he’ll walk into his room and see puppy humping his pillow, her bottom lip pulled tightly between her teeth in order to keep her moans and whimpers at bay.

🦴 oral fixations :

whether it’s bubblegum or john b’s cock, you can count on puppy to have something in her mouth at all times! it never fails that whenever they’re alone she’ll just take him out of his boxers and suckle on the tip while they’re watching tv or doing some other casual task. if he’s sitting at the table, you can bet she’s underneath it, kneeling between his thighs as she makes a mess on his cock, a few laughs emitting from under the table as john b groans. “are you making spit bubbles again?” he asked through gritted teeth, his fingers threading themselves in the roots of her hair. “no..” she lies, both her lips and chin shiny with the evidence of her saliva.

🦴 making her hold her pee + edging :

they actually stumbled upon this on accident one day when john b was fingering puppy and she kept crying about having to pee. john b watched the way she squirmed uncomfortably, her body tensing up as he brought her to the edge over and over again. “what’s wrong puppy? don’t think you can hold it anymore?” she whined, shaking her head as john b continued rubbing her poor sensitive clit. it wasn’t until she was screaming for john b to let her make a mess that he clamped a hand over her mouth, muttering the words; “fucking hold it, pup, or you’re sleeping in your cage tonight.” the thought of sleeping by herself without her big, burly, daddy next to her was enough to make her clench around his fingers, heavy tears rolling down her cheeks at both the pleasure and pain coursing through her body.

308 notes · View notes

dreamwritesimagines · 1 day ago

Text

Declassified [8] - Diplomacy

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful support my loves, you are so amazing🩷 I hope you like this chapter as well! 🥰 And please let me know what you think! 🩷

Pairing: Congressman!Bucky x Female!Reader

Summary: The first day of work can be stressful.

Warnings: Explicit language, yearning.

Word Count: 4381

Series Masterlist

Well.

This was exactly what the first day of school used to feel like.

You couldn’t stop the sigh leaving your lips as you stared up at the Capitol Building, trying to ignore the anxiety churning your stomach. You knew you were supposed to go in, but somehow your legs refused to listen to you, so you exhaled slowly the way your therapist had taught you to get at least some sort of—

“It’s not too late to change your mind.”

You jumped out of your skin, then pressed a hand over your chest and glared at Bucky.

“What did I say about sneaking up on people?”

“In my defense, you looked pretty out of it already.” He shrugged his shoulders. “And as I said; not too late to change your mind. We can still leave.”

“Right,” you said with a laugh. “So we just forget about the Congress and everything and go away?”

He grinned. “Mm hm.”

“Where?”

“Brooklyn.”

You tilted your head. “Except that Brooklyn elected you as their representative, I feel like they’d ask what the hell you’re doing there.”

“You make a good point,” he said and thought for a moment. “Okay, new plan.”

“I’m listening.”

“We get new names and identities, move to a small town where no one knows us, and grow old and gray there in peace. We never check the news, ever.”

Your heart skipped a beat but you tried to focus. “Do we have to change Alpine’s name too?”

“I don’t think she’d let us,” he said, a soft smile pulling at his lips. “She missed you, by the way.”

This was not flirting.

This was just friendly. That was it. Two friends talking.

About running away together.

“I missed her too,” you said. “How does she like your new place?”

“She doesn’t,” he murmured before turning to glance at the building. “We’re gonna be fine.”

“Are you talking to me or yourself?”

“Yes.”

You repressed a laugh and bumped your shoulder against his.

“Come on,” you said as you started walking with him next to you. “Today is your day, and you’re gonna be very busy.”

“Yeah, the schedule was pages long,” he said. “I have meetings with people I don’t even know about.”

“Think of it like your debutante ball,” you told him. “They all want to see if you’re the right fit for them, how much dowry you have, and if they can bed you.”

“Please talk to me about something else.”

“Okay. “You shrugged your shoulders. “Onto some heartwarming news; I told Max to go fuck himself last night.”

Bucky frowned. “Hold on, he’s still calling you?”

“I called him,” you said. “He got the apartment after I prepared my boxes and stuff, and I paid the movers extra so that they would move everything without me being there, but apparently Max went through my boxes even if he refuses to admit it, because Blinky is not in any of them.”

“Who’s Blinky?” He paused for a moment. “Or what is Blinky?”

“Blinky is my childhood plushie,” you said. “It’s a fox plushie with one eye, the other eye fell off on the first day, that’s why I named him that. I took him everywhere I moved, and guess what? Max refuses to give him back.”

“Well, that’s interesting information.”

“I know, right?” you asked as you both walked into the building and held up your IDs to go through the security even if Bucky didn’t need to do that. “He claims he hasn’t seen him, but I’m so sure he hides him somewhere in the apartment.”

“You have a toy?”

“It’s a plushie.”

“It’s a toy.”

“It’s a plushie—you know what, I’m not going to stand in the Capitol hallway to argue semantics about my nostalgic childhood plushie with you,” you said while Bucky grinned at you. “You have one thousand things to do and so do I, so I’ll see you tomorrow.”

That wiped his grin off his face. “Wait, tomorrow? You’re not gonna be around?”

“I’ll be gone all day.”

His eyes widened and he shook his head.

“Birdie, no—”

“I have the orientation, I’ll have to meet everyone and stuff, and apparently there’s this tour… It’ll be chaotic. Kels will be with you though, and Caleb as well.”

“But it wouldn’t take you all day,” Bucky tried to convince you as if you were the one who planned the schedule. “What are they going to do, make you tour the place twice? Just tell them you have stuff to do.”

“This is my stuff to do.”

“So you’re leaving me alone with these people?”

You tried not to laugh at the look of betrayal on his face.

“These people are going to be your colleagues,” you reminded him. “So you need to make friends with them. You don’t need me for that.”

“I do need you for that, actually,” he argued. “I don’t…I don’t make friends.”

“Fine, don’t make friends with them, just be civil. You charmed half of Brooklyn, remember?”

“Because you were there.”

“You’ve been through literally the hardest things anyone can go through—”

“To repeat, none of those things required making friends. Or socializing for that matter.”

“You’ll be fine, and I’ll drop by the office if I can,” you assured him. “But remember. Diplomacy. That’s the currency here.”

Bucky took a deep breath and nodded. “Yeah.”

You took a step to leave, then turned around again to look at him.

“I feel like this goes without saying when it comes to diplomacy, but do not glare at or threaten anyone.”

Bucky stared at you as if you had just asked him whether Alpine could fly and you pursed your lips, then rolled your shoulders back.

“It’s gonna go great,” you muttered to yourself as you started walking again. “Diplomacy, here we come.”

Okay, you expected today to be chaotic, but you did not know it would be this chaotic.

It felt like for the whole day you had been running to one place or the other, and by the time you had found some time to yourself, it was way past lunch time. You had about half an hour until the next item on the schedule so you figured you could drop by Bucky’s office to talk to Kelsey and Caleb and see how Bucky was doing so far.

When you entered the office, most of the team was busy with either their phones or laptops, but Caleb and Kelsey were watching Bucky’s closed door, having a discussion in whispers. You tilted your head, then made your way to them.

“Is everything okay?”

“What are you doing here?” Caleb asked. “My orientation lasted all day.”

“Mine will too, I just got a break—what is happening?”

Kelsey licked her lips. “Guess who asked for a last minute meeting with Bucky.”

“Who?”

“Amos Drexel.”

Your stomach dropped and you gawked at her. “Sorry?”

“I think you guys are the only people who know this person.”

“I’ve been memorizing everyone’s faces and names and titles since the election night,” she said. “And trust me, people know who he is. People in high places, if you know what I mean.”

“Kels, he’s just a consultant.”

Kelsey scoffed. “He’s not just a consultant, Caleb.”

“A lobbyist.”

“Lobbyists come and go, this guy has been bribing and extorting the politicians for like, decades. He has half of them in his pocket.”

“I feel like I would’ve heard about him,” Caleb said and Kelsey shook her head.

“He’s too smart for that,” she said. “It’s easier for him if the public thinks he’s just a consultant. But trust me, every single politician here knows about him.”

“What is he doing here?” you asked, your heartbeat getting faster as you stole a look at the closed door. “I checked Bucky’s schedule this morning, he wasn’t there.”

“As I said, last minute meeting,” Kelsey said. “What was I supposed to do when Drexel wanted to see him, ask him to reschedule? I squeezed him in.”

“If he tries to bribe Bucky, I feel like he might kill him.”

“Obviously but that’s not the point,” Kelsey said while you grabbed her penholder so that you could do something with your hands. “The point is, if Drexel is here, it means he wants to—”

You dropped the penholder as soon as the door opened, and you ducked under the desk to gather the pencils as he passed by the desk.

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Barnes.” You heard him say as he walked out of the door and you put all the pens into the holder, then got up from under the desk, letting out a breath.

Bucky looked absolutely furious as he glared in the direction he had disappeared into before his eyes found yours, his gaze softening in a second. You gave him a tightlipped smile and put the holder on the desk—

And the rest of the room turned to the door again.

“Almost forgot.” His voice reached your ears, making your whole body tense up. “Honey? Your mom wants to know if you’re free for dinner next weekend.”

Oh.

Oh he had planned this.

Of course he did. He knew every schedule in this goddamn place, and he knew the moment you had a break, you’d come straight to Bucky’s office.

You forced yourself to ignore the whole team and Bucky staring at you, your cheeks burning in humiliation as you turned around to glare at your father who was standing by the door with a calm smile on his face.

“Make sure to text her please,” he told you. “Have a great first day.”

Then he walked away, leaving the whole office in a stunned silence.

You could feel the tears of frustration burning the back of your eyes but this was neither the time nor the place. You blinked a couple of times, clenching your jaw and then made a beeline into Bucky’s office with Caleb and Kelsey rushing after you. Kelsey closed the door behind her and you licked your lips, taking a deep breath.

“I can explain that—”

“He’s your father?” Caleb asked and you cleared your throat.

“Well…”

“Why is your surname different?”

“How is he your father?” Caleb and Kelsey asked at the same time and you cleared your throat.

“I’ve been asking the same question to my mother for ages now.” You tried to joke as you stole a look at Bucky who was just watching you with an unreadable look on his face.

“Your father is Amos Drexel and you still have roommates?” Kelsey asked, motioning at herself and Caleb, and you shook your head fervently.

“I’m broke.”

Caleb scoffed. “Oh come on—”

“No, I am.” You pulled your phone out to open up your bank app, then showed the screen to them. “See? Totally broke.”

That seemed to have snapped Bucky out of the haze he was in. “Wait, you need money?”

“Nope,” you said, shaking your head fervently. “No I don’t.”

Caleb stared at your phone screen. “How is that even possible?”

“I got myself a separate bank account when I was eighteen,” you said. “I wouldn’t touch his money with a gun to my head, I know where it comes from. And before you ask, I won’t touch it when he dies either, it will go straight to charity.”

“And he’s okay with that?”

“Not at all but he ignores it, just like he ignores how I’ve been begging him to disown me for years,” you said and turned to Bucky. “Please say something.”

Bucky just held your gaze for a moment before taking a deep breath.

“Your surname is different?”

“I changed it to my mother’s maiden name the day I turned eighteen,” you said. “You should’ve seen the paperwork.”

Bucky pointed at the door. “Birdie, I just told your father to go to hell.”

“You—” Kelsey’s eyes widened. “You told him to go to hell?”

“With different words.”

“What words?”

Bucky raised his brows, then motioned at her and you. “You two are here, I can’t exactly say what I said.”

“Bucky how many times must we tell you that people can curse around—” Caleb started but Kelsey cut him off, throwing her head back to look up at the ceiling like she was asking for help.

“Jesus, we’re not gonna last a term.”

“Would he assassinate him?”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “No one is going to assassinate me, Caleb.”

“Hypothetically, would it even count as assassination if he killed you?”

“No.”

“I was going to say who died and left you in charge of assassinations, but I think everyone in this room knows the answer—”

“Bucky, I don’t think you understand,” Kelsey insisted. “Let’s say you’re Aragorn, this guy is Sauron!”

You made a face.

“He’s not Sauron, his power does have a limit.” You paused for a moment. “He’s Saruman at best.”

“Thanks, that makes it so much better—”

“Can we have the room?” Bucky cut her off and Kelsey and Caleb exchanged glances, then left the office. You could feel the anxiety churning your stomach but you swallowed thickly, keeping your eyes on him.

“Bucky…”

“Why not tell me?”

You let out a bitter laugh. “Would you have hired me?”

He frowned. “Of course I would.”

“And how would that go? Here’s my resume, oh by the way, my father bribes and extorts politicians for a living?” you asked. “See, I don’t think you would.”

“So your solution was to keep it a secret? Even after we—” He stopped himself. “Even after we started working together?”

Your heart skipped a beat.

“I couldn’t just tell you,” you said. “Listen, I wanted to work in politics, and…”

“And you could’ve easily got a job here,” Bucky told you. “You didn’t have to wait until I got elected.”

“Do you think that’s why I’m doing this?” you asked. “Bucky, I don’t want to work for a politician who is only gonna hire me because of my father, he stands for the opposite of everything I believe in—”

“And it’s been like that from the beginning?” he asked, making you pull back. “From the first minute we started working together?”

When the realization crashed down on you, it tightened your throat like a fist.

“You don’t believe me,” you muttered, biting inside your cheek and he let out a breath.

“Birdie, listen—”

“No, you listen,” you cut him off. “The next time you accuse me of working for my father, or—or having anything to do with his corruption, I will walk away, Bucky. I’ll pick one of the many job offers being thrown at me from someone who’s not in my father’s pocket -surprisingly, there are still some of those- and I’ll go and work for them. So I guess the question you should be asking is, do you really want that to happen?”

With that, you stormed out of the office and made your way to the stairs without sparing anyone a glance, your heart still pounding in your chest.

Well needless to say, as far as first days went, that one was not so good.

You had gone straight home after work without dropping by Bucky’s office again. Caleb came home an hour after you, and Kelsey was the last one to arrive, and they had a lot of questions.

At least they had both brought booze and snacks.

And now, way past midnight, all of you were sitting on the floor, still drinking and snacking but the air felt much lighter.

“I just want to say, Birdie,” Caleb said. “Even if your father is a demon sent from hell to bribe politicians, we love you.”

“Aw, thanks Caleb.”

“Can I also point out that,” Kelsey said, reaching for some chips, “it sure is weird that we have a TV, a fucking gramophone—”

“No badmouthing my gramophone, Kels.”

“But we don’t have a couch?”

“We’ll buy a couch,” you said, throwing a piece of chocolate in air to catch it with your mouth. “Like, next month. When we can afford it.”

“Maybe we should let your father know his daughter doesn’t have a couch, so that he can send us a gold one.”

You shot her a look and she grinned.

“These jokes will continue, just so you know.”

“I know, I know…” you muttered and pointed at the TV. “Swipe left.”

“No, swipe right!” Caleb told Kelsey who tilted her head, still holding her thumb over her phone screen. You had connected her phone to the TV and for over an hour you were going over the ‘options’ for her as Caleb had put it, and even though you’d had doubts at first, this turned out to be much more fun than watching political news.

“I mean he does give off fuckboy vibes, Caleb.”

“I don’t give a shit, he has a dog,” Caleb said. “One of us has to find someone with a dog. Birdie already has Bucky, who has an asshole cat—”

“I don’t have Bucky, and Alpine is a pretty princess.”

“And I’m a dog person,” Caleb said, pointing at the picture on the screen. “Maybe he’ll bring over his dog.”

“You make a good point,” Kelsey said as she swiped right, and all of you made a face at the next picture on the screen.

“Left!”

“Do you guys think I’ll have to work for someone else?”

“I think Bucky would rather resign himself than fire you,” Kelsey stated and Caleb nodded, taking a fistful of jellybeans into his palm.

“She’s right,” he said. “Do you want the green ones?”

“Yes please,” you said and held out your hand so that he could put the green jellybeans in your palm, and you popped them in your mouth. “And if he doesn’t trust me anymore?”

“That’s why he looked like a kicked puppy when I told Kels you were already home within his earshot?”

You let out a whine and downed your drink. “It’s gonna be so weird when I see him tomorrow.”

“Just pretend nothing happened,” Kelsey said, making Caleb scoff.

“I’m sure it’s a very healthy approach to disagreements in a relationship.”

“We’re not in a relationship,” you said sulkily as the roar of a motorcycle outside reached the apartment. “He’s in a relationship with Hazel fucking—swipe right on this one Kels—Brooks.”

“Who hates your guts because she knows Bucky likes you.”

“Right,” you said with a laugh. “Because Bucky would ever leave his hot, successful, billionaire girlfriend —who is, if I may repeat, super hot— to be with me.”

“That’s irrelevant.”

You flailed your arms. “We don’t even have a damn couch, Kels!”

“Then he fucks you on the floor, who cares?” Caleb exclaimed as he poured more wine into your glass, and your phone buzzed on the floor. You picked it up, sitting up straighter the moment you saw the text.

From: Winter Is Coming

Hey. Are you awake?

“What the…” you muttered and turned the screen to Caleb and Kelsey so that they could read the text. “Is this a ‘you up’ text? Is Bucky sending me a you up text?”

“The man has to google half of the things I text him, but he’s sending you a you up text, sure.” Kelsey scoffed a laugh. “See, told you things would work out. That’s gonna be an apology text, text him back.”

You sent a quick yes, your heartbeat getting faster as Caleb grinned.

“He’s so lying in bed thinking about you, aw!”

“He’s not doing that— ” You started but you were cut off when your phone buzzed in your hand.

Do you mind stepping outside for a minute?

“Holy shit!”

“Caleb, stop shouting!”

“He’s here?!”

“Oh my God, oh my God…” You jumped on your feet, fanning yourself. “What do I do?”

“Well, you calm down,” Kelsey said, getting up as well. “And you go outside.”

“How do I look?”

“You look great.” Kelsey pulled your top down a little and wiggled her brows. “For good luck.”

You took a deep breath, fixed your hair, and rushed out of the apartment to make your way downstairs, then you stepped out of the building to find him leaning against his motorcycle.

Goddamn it.

You were supposed to be angry at him, but somehow the butterflies in your stomach refused to listen to you.

“To repeat,” you said as you walked down the stairs and approached him. “I have a doorbell.”

“It’s 2 a.m.” Bucky replied, his eyes fixed on you, making your heart skip a beat. “I figured Caleb and Kelsey would be asleep.”

“Nope, we’re picking guys for Kelsey,” you said. “So what brings you here?”

Bucky paused for a moment and licked his lips.

“I wanted to talk to you,” he said. “About today…”

“Listen, I know you’re gonna say I should’ve told you but you need to understand—”

“I’m sorry.”

That made you stop talking and your eyes snapped up to his, a confused frown pulling your brows together. Bucky gave you an apologetic smile and cleared his throat as if he was willing to get the words out.

“I don’t like it when people hide things from me, and I…” He rubbed the back of his neck, averting his eyes from yours for a moment. “I trust you a lot, so when you—”

You shook your head fervently. “Bucky, I would never betray your trust.”

“I know.”

“Do you?” you insisted. “Because I need you to know that. I would never go behind your back and do anything to—to hurt you in any way.”

That soft light appeared in his blue eyes. “I know.”

“It’s just not who I am.”

“I know, Birdie.”

You bit inside your cheek.

“And I’m sorry too,” you muttered, pressing your palms on your eyes for a moment before dropping your hands. “I swear, something evil comes out of me whenever someone so much as mentions me being anything like him. Especially when I spent years trying to prove that I’m not.”

“I get that.”

You looked down, shifting your weight from one foot to other, then raised your head to smile up at him.

“Do you want to come in?” you asked. “You can help us pick guys for Kels, and there’s wine and snacks.”

“Tempting offer,” he said. “But I’m actually here to drop something off.”

You frowned as he reached into the box behind his motorcycle. “What? I’m pretty sure I got all the files—”

You stopped talking the moment you saw what he pulled out of the box, a gasp leaving your lips and your hands shooting up to your mouth.

Blinky.

He held out the worn out plushie for you and you gawked at him for a couple of seconds before you reached out to take it.

“Wh—how?”

“It was on my way.”

You pulled your brows together, looking down at the fox plushie before raising your glances again.

“My old apartment, which is in New York,” you said slowly, “was on your way to your home, which is in DC.”

Bucky’s lips twitched into a mischievous smile.

“Well okay, it wasn’t,” he admitted. “I just got back to the city, that’s why I texted you at this hour.”

You could feel your heart melting in your chest. “You went all the way to New York to get my childhood plushie back?”

“I still think that counts as a toy,” he pointed out as if it was crucial information. “But you said it was important to you, so…”

Don’t kiss him.

You can’t kiss him. He’s your boss, he has a girlfriend, he does not see you that way, do not kiss him.

“And if anything, I’d been wanting to talk to Max for a while now, so the toy was basically just an excuse.”

“It a plushie—” You changed directions mid-sentence. “What do you mean you talked to Max?”

The look on his face was too innocent. “We just had a conversation, that’s all.”

“About?”

“About him not making anything difficult for you. Or something along those lines.”

The warmth swirled in the pit of your stomach, making you feel lightheaded as you beamed at him, a giggle climbing your chest.

“Bucky.” You breathed out. “I don’t know what to say...”

“Oh it’s nothing, really.”

“It’s not nothing,” you said. “It’s—it’s amazing. You’re amazing.”

That made his head snap up, his eyes searching yours while a proud smile pulled at his lips like your praise meant the world to him. It could’ve been funny if you weren’t trying so hard to control yourself from kissing him; the deadliest assassin in the world, the infamous Bucky Barnes who barely smiled at anyone, who could strike fear in anyone’s hearts with a mere glare, now had the same expression of an excited puppy who was given a treat.

His throat bobbed and he blinked a couple of times like he was trying to pull himself together, then gestured at his motorcycle. “I uh, I should go.”

You were painfully aware that you were pouting. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” he said. “And hey, I’m sure you’re needed inside too. Can’t have Kelsey choose the wrong guy.”

You huffed out a laugh, hugging a plushie to your stomach and nodded.

“See you tomorrow,” you said quietly and took a couple of steps but then turned around to look at him.

“And…” You cleared your throat, your heart pacing in your chest. “Thank you. It means more than you know.”

His voice was soft: “Good night Birdie.”

He waited until you were in the building to ride away and you pressed a hand over your chest before climbing the stairs to enter your apartment.

“Hey,” Kelsey said. “How did it—is that a plushie?”

“Bucky got you a plushie?” Caleb asked, confusion clear in his tone and you looked down at the plushie, then back at them.

“Guys, we have a problem,” you rasped out, your voice weak even to your own ears. “I think I’m actually falling for him.”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #congressman barnes #congressman bucky #thunderbolts #thunderbolts*#congressman bucky barnes #congressman!bucky #congressman!bucky barnes #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x y/n #bucky fanfic

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karikitdemonrp · 20 hours ago

Text

Kari listened, a small smile forming as Hawks talked about how he had access to records and databases. She let out a soft sigh of relief. Then Hawks asked if Kari really wanted to look into this, if she was ready for it.

She took a moment to think about it. "I know... When it comes to them I kinda hold onto things I probably shouldn't... Make life harder for myself from carrying stuff I shouldn't, but at the same time my quirk is weird and it's something my mom was supposed to teach me." The child relaxed her shoulders, letting out a sigh while she gazed off into the middle distance and let her thoughts just roam for a bit. "I know I can talk to her in that weird mind place thing like that one time...But I don't know how to get there myself, I'm not sure how it happened. So I need to learn in other ways right now, and learning about my mom and dad as best as I can, however I can, is probably the best place to start." She muttered.

"It's mostly to learn about my quirk, but also to see if there's anything else I should know... I'm not sure what that could be, but I just... I just wanna know. So, I think I'm ready for it. I feel like I kinda need to look into this anyway, I feel like it could help me a lot." Kari rubbed the back of her head then looked at Hawks with a nervous grin. "I mean, I'm very curious about stuff." She chirped then stretched. "Do you think we can go today? If we can then I'll need to brush my hair and wash my face a bit. Well, I'll do that regardless."

The child giggled then gave a relaxed smile. "I know I've said this a lot but... Thanks Papa."

Hawks held Kari’s pinky with his own, giving it a gentle squeeze before letting their hands drop to the bedspread. Her solemn words, the fierce way she said “It better not come to that”—it hit him in the chest more than she probably realized. That sharp edge in her voice was something he knew well. He’d used it himself when he was younger. And just like her, it always came from the same place: fear of losing the only good thing you’ve got left.

He let the silence linger a moment longer before finally speaking, his voice softer than usual but firm, reassuring.

“Yeah… I’m not planning on going anywhere, kiddo. I’ve dodged enough bullets, blades, and bureaucrats for a lifetime. I’m not going down easy.” He gave her a lopsided smirk and a wink. “You’re stuck with me.”

When she brought up her parents—Re-Done and Angelic—Hawks’ expression shifted. Thoughtful. He nodded slowly, brows furrowing just slightly in consideration. “You’ve got that fire in you, y’know that?” he said, ruffling her hair lightly. “Asking the right questions, pushing for answers. That’s the first step to understanding what you’re really capable of.” Then he sat back a little and gave her a serious nod.

“Yeah, we can definitely look into it. I’ve got access to the Hero Commission archives and some old databases that aren’t public anymore. If your parents were registered Pro Heroes, there’s a good chance there’s something on file—mission records, quirk evaluations, maybe even footage or interviews if they were ever highlighted by the media.”

“You sure you’re ready for that, though? What you find out might not all be good. Records don’t filter the truth the way memories do. And you already carry a lot on your shoulders.”

#rp #Pure Tiny (Kari)#toranoya

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junipersenvelope · 2 days ago

Text

Sunday Morning

Alfie Buttle x Reader

Summary: A rainy Sunday Morning in the life of you and Alfie. Inspired by/based on the lyrics of Sunday Morning by Maroon 5.

Warnings: disgusting fluff (aka possible cringe warning), inaccurate AB dialogue??

Word count: 1.4k

A/N: hello ukyt tumblr!! my name is em and im soo excited to be writing for the ukyt scene. i have been watching creators like the sidemen and willne since 2017 (you can find a few posts of me rooting for will to hit 1mil on this account lol) but have never ventured into writing for this fandom. i haven’t written in 3 years so any feedback is absolutely welcomed. my requests are open as well if you enjoy this work! sorry for yapping, onto the one-shot. happy reading!

Sunday morning, rain is falling

Steal some covers, share some skin

Rain pattered against the windows in Alfie’s bedroom, the room seeming darker than usual with the gray skies. A thunderstorm had woken you up in the early hours of the morning, but Alfie slept through it. He could sleep through anything, even his alarms. One morning before a shoot his series of alarms went off around 10 times before you nearly resorted to smacking him with a pillow to get him up.

Eventually, thunder cracked just loud enough for Alfie to stir next to you. You sat up on your elbow, leaning closer to him just to admire his restful face. You quickly decided you were bored waiting up for him so you placed a gentle hand on his cheek, tenderly dragging your thumb back and forth to coax him out of his sleep. This caused his long eyelashes to flutter against his cheeks, trying to fight to stay asleep. His hazel eyes cracked open, meeting yours as a soft smile grew on his tired face.

“Good morning, sunshine,” you whispered, leaning over to place a soft kiss to his other cheek.

“Good morning, love,” Alfie yawned, pressing a kiss to the palm of your hand that was still on his face.

Noticing you had shimmied out of the covers in the night, he threw them back over you. In one fell swoop he grabbed your waist and pulled you flush to his side. Your leg rested comfortably over his waist, wanting to be as close to him as possible. His hand came up to your arm, fingers drawing slow circles as his lips came to your forehead.

But things just get so crazy

Living life gets hard to do

“I never wanna leave this bed,” he sighed, feeling content and relaxed with your body intertwined with his.

Since spring had transitioned to summer, Alfie had been so busy with brand trips, podcast shoots, and other videos that he hadn’t had much time to relax. Now that he was finally back at the grotto, he wanted to take full advantage of being able to do nothing, and especially being able to do nothing with you.

“Good thing you’ve got fuck all to do for the next week or so,” you giggled, squeezing your arms around his torso gently.

Your fingers tenderly caressed his soft skin, sending shivers down his spine. Just when he looked like he was about to fall back asleep, his stomach rumbled.

“You hungry, Alf?” You mocked, chuckling at the noise.

“Yeah, I am,” he exhaled with a small laugh. “And we’ve got about 1 egg and a monster in the fridge. Gonna have to ration like it’s war.”

Driving slow on Sunday morning

Eventually the two of you found yourselves out of bed, getting ready to head to the store for breakfast. You walked to the car, reaching for the passenger door handle, before a large hand beat you to it. You turned to look up at Alfie with a pleased grin.

“Feeling romantic today huh?” You teased as he opened the door.

You slid into the passenger seat allowing him to move into the door frame. He placed his hands on either side of your hips on the seat and leaned in close.

“Y’know I know how to treat my lady. Come on,” he winked, before leaning down to press a tender kiss onto your lips.

You shook your head at him before he moved away from your side and around the car to the drivers side, getting in quickly. The rain still poured, though it had lightened significantly from the storm earlier in the morning.

“Put a good tune on, love. Make it a movie y’know,” Alfie said in his classic joking voice, motioning to his phone on the middle console.

You scrolled Spotify before landing on Sunday Morning by Maroon 5. He seemed to like your pick by the way he began to sing along, his voice gradually getting louder as the song progressed. Driving with Alfie never lacked entertainment, as he always put on a grand performance to his playlist, singing his heart out to every tune.

He began to drive out of his small neighborhood, heading into town. His hand migrated into your lap, resting on your thigh. His fingers tapped along to the song gently, comforting you as you further settled into the car seat. Your hands got bored however, so you grabbed the hand holding your thigh and gave it a tight squeeze. Your other hand began to soothingly scratch at his forearm and he squeezed your hand three times.

The drive continued, rain still pelting down. You watched the town go by, including the grocery store.

“Uh Alf? You in there? We just passed the shop,” you inquired, wondering why he blew right past your destination.

“I’ve got something else in mind. Gonna be a great little motive, trust,” he said, looking over to you quickly with a small smile.

Before you knew it, you were pulling into a diner that you had been wanting to try. An appreciative smile pulled at your lips as you turned to look at Alfie, but he had already parked and hopped out to grab your door. He opened it with a grin, holding a hand out for you to grab.

“M’lady,” he joked, helping you out of the car.

As you sat in the quaint restaurant, you noticed the weather began to clear up. It seemed to know that your lazy Sunday was turning into something more. Alfie grabbed your hand over the table, intertwining his fingers with yours as he told you stories from all of the trips he went on.

“Only downfall was how far we were from Monaco, really. Like we weren’t properly in Nice or Monaco which was quite annoying. But other than that it was beautiful. Just wish you could’ve been there.”

He detailed his drunken adventures with Chip and Arthur in Monaco, his podcast experience with Arthur and Bach, and his most recent trip to Germany. He held your hand through each story, brushing his thumb back and forth across your knuckles, playing with your fingers, and squeezing gently during the most exciting parts of each.

Your breakfast eventually wrapped up and you began to head back. You stopped at the store for groceries, happy that you got to stock up on all of Alfie’s favorites, because it meant he would be home with you for a while.

Fingers trace your every outline,

Paint a picture with my hands

When you returned to the grotto, you began to put groceries away. You slotted the eggs in the fridge, snacks in the cupboard, and replenished his monster stash.

Just as you closed the fridge, you felt him walk up behind you. His arms snaked around your waist, and his chest was warm and familiar against your back. You leaned into him, resting your head against his shoulder, your chin up and eyes closed. You wanted to soak in this moment with him, quiet and close, appreciating the slowness of the day within such a chaotic life. Alfie’s hands ran up your sides and onto your arms, applying a soothing amount of pressure. Once his hands reached your shoulders he delicately turned your body to face him. From there, his hands moved to your cheeks, holding your face like it was an ancient artifact.

“Can’t express enough how happy I am to have you here with me. Genuinely. I don’t think I could do it if everytime I came home you weren’t here to be with me. To understand me,” he confessed, bearing his heart to you in a way he didn’t often do.

And then, before you could respond, he kissed you. Soft, but deliberate, his lips molding perfectly to yours, like you were made exactly for each other. It said everything he had just vocalized, and everything he wanted to but didn’t quite know how. It said that he loved you, he missed you, and he was grateful for how easy time spent with you was. This kiss wasn’t desperate, wasn’t trying to escalate into something heated. It was innocent and happy. It was there to remind him you were real and that he didn’t have to worry about losing you.

And he knew no matter where his career took him—out of town, the country, or continent—he would always find a way to bring himself back home to you.

#alfie buttle x fem reader #alfie buttle x reader #alfie buttle #ukyt x reader #ukyt fanfic #alfie buttle fanfic #ukyt fluff

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revelboo · 1 day ago

Note

it’s my birthday today and I turn 22, got to celebrate with lots of presents, loads of keychains and themed sticky notes for my cubicle at work 😄

Can we get some more tarn! I need that evil sociopath 👀👀 how’s reader holding up anyway 😂

Happy birthday! Reader is very carefully feeling him out now that they can understand each other

L.G. FUAD Pt 18

Tarn x Reader

• Stunned speechless that he can understand you, that you can talk to each other and aren’t limited to very bad charades anymore, you’re half tempted to go off on him. To scream about the bath, the food, the soap. Every atrocity he’s unwittingly visited on you. But it’s not escaped you that your survival is dependent on him. And while he seems to like you, it’s the affection of a pet owner for their pet. You’re not sure if he’ll tolerate being told off by the equivalent of his space gerbil. “These are coverings and human food?” Tarn asks, attention on the bins as he slides you into one hand and just grabs stuff. Apparently confiscating stuff for you and the little guy doesn’t even try to argue as he takes what he wants. Now that he knows you’re not a pet, he has to take you home, right? You can talk to him, he knows you’re sentient. He seems reasonable for a giant, alien robot, so he has to listen.

• “Big guy?” You ask and he glances at you in his palm, wide eyes staring up at him. That’s what you’ve been calling him? ‘Tarn,’ he corrects gently, watching Swindle fetch an empty container for him, scrambling to help because he wants him off the ship and far away. Dumping his handful of human things in the small bin, he stares the smaller mech down daring him to protest as he grabs more things for you, especially food. “Tarn, right,” you say and he hesitates, surprised that he likes the sound of his name on your lips, that it does wholly inappropriate things to him. “I really appreciate you taking care of me.” Amused, he slides a servo against your jaw, grabbing the bin in his other hand and turning. Heading back to his own ship without a word. Knowing Swindle will be terrified the whole time that the DJD’s ship will fire on his and he smiles slowly behind his mask. A little fear will be good for the mech.

• Leaning against him as he goes through the airlocks back into his ship, he glances at you, red optics brightening slightly behind his mask. “I appreciate that you didn’t mention the accidental poisonings,” he murmurs and you wince. Though, the unwanted bath and unintentional groping had been worse. “For something so small, you’re surprisingly difficult to keep alive.” Smiling thinly as your jaw works, you inhale. Reminding yourself that you need to stay on his good side. Still need his help. Can’t tell him what you really think of his ‘care.’

• “And I appreciate that you did your best,” you say, expression strained to make him clear his vents with an amused huff. Do you not realize how expressive your little face is? How easily he can read you? “But I really need to go home.” And he rumbles, optics narrowing. ‘We are going home,’ he says, purposefully misunderstanding, because he likes having you around. Doesn’t want to lose your warmth or your affection. You’re his. And now that he can understand you, he has someone to talk to, because the rest of the DJD can be exhausting. “Not your ship, my home. My planet? Earth?” Venting, he uses a servo to tip your chin up.

• “I’m afraid that’s impossible,” he growls, striding through the halls of his ship and you see one of his scary buddies turn to give him a look, because he’s speaking your language. “Your home is here.” Yeah, except it’s not. Emotional support space gerbil to a giant, alien robot isn’t at all appealing to you. But there’s a look in his red optics when his head tips to stare at you that makes your argument die a swift, trembling death when you just want to argue. Remembering when he’d snarled at you and you’d stopped breathing. That he’d done something to you.

#transformers x reader #tarn x reader #mtmte tarn

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seitmai · 3 hours ago

Note

Many thoughts

“From the king.” She pulls back the cloth covering, revealing four tiny kittens tumbling over each other—one black, one orange, and two with mottled gray-and-white fur. “As is tradition,” she adds.

There are worst traditions imo 🤷🏻‍♀️

Your heart plummets and while there is yet the smallest of swoops in your stomach as understanding crashes over you. The bathing, the oils, the fine undergarment, the ceremonial gift of kittens—all of it suddenly makes terrible sense. Steven doesn't mean to merely present you as his captive or concubine. He means to marry you. Today. Now.

That's one way to find out 🫣

You meet Helga's eyes in the polished metal mirror before you. There is kindness there, but also resignation. She has seen many things in her years of service, you realize. Perhaps even other women in your position.

Fair

"Does he... does he do this often?" you ask, your voice barely audible. “No, you are the first woman he’s ever brought back.”

That's at least something 🤷🏻‍♀️

"Eat," Helga says, pushing the platter toward you. "You'll need your strength."

Oh I'm sure she will

One of the kittens, the orange one, tumbles from the basket and pads across the floor to bat at the hem of your new gown. Despite everything, a small smile tugs at your lips as you watch its playful antics.

🥰🥰🥰

Helga's weathered hands pause in their work, her eyes meeting yours in the metal mirror. "That is for the king to say," she replies carefully. "But I have known him since he was a boy at his mother's breast. I have never seen him look at a woman the way he looked at you last night or this morning."

That has to count for something!

Your cheeks burn, remembering the intensity in Steven's gaze during your nights together. The mixture of cruelty and desire, possession and something else—something you cannot name.

🤭🤭🤭

"The orange one seems to have chosen you," Helga observes as the kitten winds between your ankles, purring loudly. "A good omen. The goddess Freya sends her cats to women of strong spirit."

Well, that fits

You take a deep breath, straightening your shoulders. Whatever ceremony awaits, whatever life stretches before you as Steven's queen, you will face it with dignity. Not for him, but for yourself.

Yes 👏🏻

Steven extends his hand as you draw near, his expression unreadable. You hesitate, heart pounding against your ribs like a trapped bird. To take his hand is to accept this fate, to acknowledge yourself as his queen. To refuse before his people would surely bring consequences you dare not contemplate.

A risk I sure wouldn't be willing to take 🫣

Steven's eyes never leave your face as the old woman speaks. The intensity of his gaze makes your skin prickle with awareness. For the first time, you notice a different quality in his eyes—not just possession or lust, but something deeper, more complex. But it’s gone in an instant, quickly masked when he realizes you've noticed.

Oh is someone a little shy with his feelings 👀

As you eat, Steven leans close, his beard brushing your ear. "My people approve of you," he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that only you can hear. "They see your beauty, your strength. You will make a fine queen." You swallow your bite of bread, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. "I know nothing of being queen to your people." A smile plays at the corners of his mouth, somehow both predatory and amused. "You will learn. I will teach you our ways, as I've already begun to teach you other things."

And he sure is an eager teacher

"You're quiet, little bride," Steven murmurs, his hand coming to rest possessively on your thigh beneath the table. "Are your thoughts still with your village?" You tense at his touch but force yourself to remain composed before his people. "I'm merely... overwhelmed," you answer truthfully.

Valid

You suppress a shiver at his touch. "And what of my duties as queen?" you ask, hoping to divert his attention from the intimate caress. "What will be expected of me?" Steven leans back, taking a deep draught from his ornate drinking horn before answering. "You will oversee the household, settle disputes among the women, bear my children." His eyes darken at these last words. "Strong sons to carry my bloodline."

Why does that not come as a surprise

"We have already..." you begin, then falter, unable to speak the words aloud. "Yes," he agrees, his voice dropping to a growl that sends shivers down your spine. "But not as husband and wife."

Devil's in the details I guess 🫣

"Are you afraid?" Steven asks, watching you over the rim of his goblet. The question catches you off guard with its directness. "Would it matter if I were?” Steven's eyes narrow slightly at your question. He sets his goblet down on the table with deliberate care, the soft clink of metal against wood echoing in the quiet room. "Yes," he says finally, surprising you with his answer. "It would matter."

Honestly, that comes as a surprise

You take another sip of wine to steady yourself, to buy time before responding. "And what kind of fear do you think I should have, my king?" A smile plays at the corners of his mouth. "The kind that quickens your pulse and makes your hands tremble." His hand slides to the nape of your neck, fingers tangling in the intricate braids Helga had so carefully arranged. "The kind that heightens every sensation, makes every touch more intense."

Oh 👀

"Do you know why I chose you?" Steven asks, his voice a low rumble as he frees the last braid, allowing your hair to fall loose around your shoulders. You shake your head, not trusting your voice. "When I saw you in that wedding dress, fleeing through the forest..." His fingers trail down to trace your jawline. "Most women would have hidden, cowered. But you led others to safety. There was fire in your eyes even as my men dragged you before me." "And then," he continues, his voice dropping even lower, "when I took you to my bed that first night, you fought me in ways no one has dared in years. Not with weapons, but with the defiance in your eyes, the tension in your body even as it betrayed you with pleasure."

He really like sher feistyness

You look away, shame burning your cheeks at the reminder of how your body had responded to his touch. His fingers grasp your chin firmly, forcing you to meet his gaze once more.

🤭🫣

"Look at me when I speak to you," he commands, though his tone lacks the harshness you've come to expect. "A queen must never lower her eyes, not even to her king." "Is that what you want?" you ask. His eyes darken as he looks at you. "I want a queen who knows her place."

Oh it's a little push and pull with them

His mouth descends to your breast, teeth grazing the sensitive peak before his tongue soothes the sting. Despite your resistance, your body responds to his touch, as it has ever since the first night he claimed you. Your back arches involuntarily into his caress, and he chuckles darkly against your skin, the vibration sending shivers through you. "Your body knows the truth even when your mind rebels," he murmurs, his breath hot against your dampened skin.

Hee body is treacherous

"Does that frighten you?" Steven asks, his eyes studying your reaction. "To know you lie with a killer?" You meet his gaze steadily. "I've always known what you are." Something flickers in his eyes—approval, perhaps, at your honesty. His hand leaves yours to continue tracing the path of the scar, fingers trailing down his chest to the waistband of his breeches.

I think honesty will bring them closer together than anything else

"My king," you repeat, louder this time. Something shifts between you in that moment - not submission exactly, but acknowledgment. This is your reality now, whether you chose it or not.

Uff that's a big moment and realization

He shifts his weight, pulling out of you with a slick sound that makes your cheeks burn. Instead of rolling away, he gathers you against his chest, one muscular arm banded around your waist as if afraid you might flee. His heartbeat thunders against your back, gradually slowing to a steady rhythm.

🤤🤤🤤

"You did well today," he murmurs, his voice rumbling through his chest beneath your ear. "My people are impressed by their new queen." You remain silent, unsure how to respond to praise for a role you never sought. Steven draws a finger beneath the line of your jaw, gently forcing your chin to look up at him.

Not an easy role, but especially if it's not by choice

"Then you will pretend, until the pretense becomes truth," he says simply. "You are no longer a village maiden, but a queen. My queen." His fingers trace idle patterns on your bare shoulder. "And queens must sometimes do what is necessary, regardless of their personal feelings." "I'll try," you whisper, the words more honest than you intended. It's not submission exactly, but acknowledgment of your reality. You cannot change what has happened, can only move forward in this strange new life. Steven's expression softens slightly, his hand moving to cup your cheek. "That is all I ask."

So he basically is saying "fake it till you make it" in viking 😅🤷🏻‍♀️

There was a tradition at Vikings weddings (or maybe it was for all Nordic medieval) that the bride was given kittens, because they were symbol of goddess Freya. You know where I'm going with this ask, right? 🥺👉👈 Kittens from viking Steve? 🥺🥺🥺

Ceremonial Rituals

Characters/Pairings: Viking King Steve Rogers x curvy Female!Reader Word Count: 6.7k

Content/Warnings: DARK newly established relationship - kidnapped wife; explicit smut: rough sex, unprotected vaginal intercourse, insemination; use of pet name (little wife, little bride)

Notes: Takes place within a week after So Black the Darkness Hums (Come Down from Battle would take place a month or so after this).

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

Six mornings after being ripped from your home, warm water envelops your aching body as unfamiliar hands move across your skin. Two women, their faces stern and focused, scrub at your flesh with soft cloths, working suds of soap over your skin. Their touch is not unkind, but there is no warmth in their eyes when they glance at you—only a wary curiosity.

Five nights passed at sea since you were ripped from your home.

The voyage had been mercifully brief but miserable with your unfamiliarity of the churning sea that had you retching over the side of Steven's longship while he laughed and called you his "delicate flower." The warriors had sung and drank through the journey, celebrating their successful raid while you huddled beneath furs in Steven's private quarters, your body aching from Steven's relentless claiming of your body each night. He'd taken you in every way imaginable, a few times gently, more often rough, always leaving you confused by the pleasure he forced from you despite your circumstances.

You close your eyes against the memories of those nights at sea, the taste of salt on your lips, the rhythm of the waves beneath the ship matching the rhythm of his body against yours. You had learned quickly that resistance only made him rougher, more determined to break you. When you yielded, sometimes his touch would soften, and those moments of gentleness were almost more confusing than the brutality.

Five nights at sea, and then a late arrival after dark the night before. Steven had lifted you onto a horse waiting for him and brought you nearly straight to his bedchambers where he’d fucked you, then allowed you to sleep - a genuine rest without the rocking of a ship. Then just after dawn, he’d ushered you out of bed and into the hands of these two women for bathing.

"Keep still," the younger woman mutters as she works a comb through your tangled hair. Her strong fingers work methodically, untangling knots with practiced efficiency. You hadn’t realized you were fidgeting.

From their actions and a few of their murmured words to each other, you gather they're preparing you for some kind of ceremony. A formal introduction to Steven's people, perhaps.

"Stand," commands the older woman, her silver-streaked hair bound in complicated braids. She helps you from the wooden tub, wrapping you in soft linen that feels like a luxury after days at sea.

The younger woman approaches with an undergarment garment of creamy white, richly embroidered with silver threads along the neckline and sleeves. The fabric is finer than anything you've ever worn, even your wedding dress.

"Arms up," she instructs.

You comply, allowing them to slip the garment over your head. The fabric settles against your skin like water, cool and smooth. They cinch it at your waist with silken ties.

The younger woman leaves the room, saying she’ll be back presently.

The older woman begins working oils into your hair, the scent of lavender and something spicier filling your nostrils. Her fingers move with practiced precision, weaving small braids at your temples before gathering them back. You wonder if this is how Steven's people prepare all their captives, or if you're receiving special treatment as his tribute.

The door creaks open on iron hinges, drawing your attention from your somber thoughts. Two women enter the chamber—one balancing a wooden platter laden with a modest breakfast of bread, cheese, and sliced apples, while the other carefully carries a small woven basket from which tiny mewling sounds emerge.

Your curiosity momentarily overcomes your apprehension. "What is that?" you ask, gesturing toward the basket as the woman sets it near the hearth.

Before you can fully process this unexpected gesture, the younger woman who had been helping you bathe returns. Your breath catches as you see the gleaming white fabric draped over her arms. It's unmistakably a wedding gown—more elaborate than the one you wore just days ago, with intricate silver embroidery matching your undergarment, and small blue stones sewn into the bodice that catch the morning light.

"The king requests you wear this," she says, her eyes watching your reaction carefully. "The ceremony begins at midmorning."

He means to marry you. Today. Now.

"No," you whisper, the word escaping before you can stop it.

The older woman's hands pause in your hair, her expression softening for the first time. "It will be easier if you do not fight," she murmurs, so only you can hear. "The king has chosen you. That is... rare."

You swallow hard, fighting back tears. "I was already married. In my village—"

"That marriage no longer exists," the younger woman interrupts firmly. "King Steven has claimed you. What came before means nothing now."

The older woman resumes braiding your hair, her fingers gentle despite her words. "My name is Helga," she offers quietly. "I have served in this household since before Steven was born. The girl is Astrid, my granddaughter."

"Does he... does he do this often?" you ask, your voice barely audible.

“No, you are the first woman he’s ever brought back.”

Astrid approaches with the gown, her expression neutral. "Arms up again."

You comply mechanically, too numb to resist as the heavy fabric slides over your head. The dress settles around you, surprisingly light despite its elaborate embroidery.

"Eat," Helga says, pushing the platter toward you. "You'll need your strength."

You take a small bite of bread, though the taste of it doesn’t register in your mouth. Your stomach churns with anxiety, but you force yourself to eat, knowing Helga speaks true about needing strength.

"They are a traditional gift," Helga explains, noticing your interest. "Of course the king would send kittens for the new queen, to bring fertility and protection to the household as is customary for any new bride."

"Queen?" The word feels foreign on your tongue, impossible.

Astrid nods as she arranges the folds of your gown. "King Steven has no wife. He has had women, yes, but never a queen. You are to be the first."

The implications of Astrid's words leave you reeling. Not just a captive or concubine, but a queen. Steven's queen. The thought is as terrifying as it is bewildering.

"Why me?" you whisper, more to yourself than to the women attending you.

Your cheeks burn, remembering the intensity in Steven's gaze during your nights together. The mixture of cruelty and desire, possession and something else—something you cannot name.

The orange kitten pounces on your gown's hem again, tiny claws catching in the delicate fabric. You bend to disentangle it, grateful for the momentary distraction. The tiny creature purrs as your fingers brush its soft fur, and for a fleeting second, the simple pleasure of touching something so innocent calms your racing thoughts.

"It is time," Astrid announces, glancing toward the window where sunlight now streams fully through the leaded glass. A distant horn sounds, its deep note reverberating through the stone walls of the chamber.

Helga secures a silver circlet atop your head, nestling it among the intricate braids she's woven. "A queen must look the part," she murmurs, stepping back to assess her work.

Your reflection in the polished metal is that of a stranger—a woman adorned like nobility, her eyes haunted with memories of another life. The white gown, with its silver embroidery and blue stones, transforms you into someone you barely recognize. Is this truly to be your fate? To be queen to the man who destroyed everything you once held dear?

"The orange one seems to have chosen you," Helga observes as the kitten winds between your ankles, purring loudly. "A good omen. The goddess Freya sends her cats to women of strong spirit."

A knock at the door silences further conversation. Astrid opens it to reveal two warriors in gleaming armor, their expressions solemn.

"The king awaits his bride," one announces.

You take a deep breath, straightening your shoulders. Whatever ceremony awaits, whatever life stretches before you as Steven's queen, you will face it with dignity. Not for him, but for yourself. The tiny orange kitten mews plaintively as Helga gently returns it to the basket.

The warriors escort you through stone corridors adorned with tapestries depicting battles and hunts. Servants pause in their work to stare as you pass, their expressions ranging from curiosity to pity.

You are taken to a clearing at the edge of the forest. There are many people assembled, but it’s the natural and wild beauty of the place that steals you breath away. There are wildflowers everywhere, and you can see snow-capped mountains in the distance, so different from the rolling hills of your homeland.

Sunlight filters through the ancient trees that encircle the clearing, dappling the ground with shifting patterns of light and shadow. At its center stands an enormous oak, its massive trunk gnarled with age, branches reaching skyward like outstretched arms. Beneath it waits Steven, transformed from the brutal warrior you've known into something more regal—a king in truth, adorned in finery that complements your own.

His tunic is deep blue, embroidered with silver that catches the light with each breath he takes. A heavy cloak drapes his broad shoulders, and atop his head sits a simple crown of polished silver. His eyes find yours immediately, and the intensity of his gaze pins you in place.

The crowd parts as you approach, their murmurs rising and falling like waves. You recognize the hard, weathered faces of Steven's warriors mingled with—those of villagers, craftspeople, and servants. Some appear curious, others wary, but all watch with rapt attention as you're led toward Steven, wondering about the foreign bride their king has brought home.

A wizened old woman waits beside Steven, her white hair flowing loose over her shoulders, adorned with feathers and bones. Her eyes, milky with cataracts, seem to see through you rather than at you.

Your fingers tremble as you place your hand in his. His grip is firm, warm, drawing you closer until you stand beside him beneath the ancient oak. The old woman begins to speak in a language you don't understand, her voice surprisingly strong despite her age. You catch only fragments of meaning—words about bonds, strength, and the joining of two souls.

The ceremony continues, the old woman producing a length of intricately woven cord. She binds your hands together—your right to Steven's left—the symbolic joining making your heart race with the finality of it. The cord is soft against your skin, dyed in shades of blue and silver that match your wedding attire.

"This binding joins not just flesh, but fate," the old woman says, switching suddenly to the common tongue. Her accent is thick, but her words are clear enough. "What the gods have brought together, let no mortal tear asunder."

Steven's hand tightens around yours as the old woman produces a small silver knife. She pricks first his finger, then yours, pressing the wounds together so your blood mingles. The sharp sting barely registers through the haze of unreality surrounding you.

"Blood of his blood," the crone intones. "Flesh of his flesh. Two souls bound by the ancient ways."

The crowd murmurs their approval, the sound rising like a wave around you.

"You are mine now," he says, his voice low enough that only you can hear. "My queen. My bride.."

Before you can respond, Steven kisses you, a claiming, his kiss thorough, but it’s the dangerous grip of his hands at your waist that has you trembling - something none see, but you feel.

The crowd erupts in cheers and shouts as Steven's lips claim yours, the noise washing over you like a physical force. When he finally releases you, your head spins—from lack of air or the sheer enormity of what has just happened, you cannot tell. The binding cord is ceremoniously unwound from your joined hands, but the symbolism remains, invisible chains now linking you to this man, this conqueror.

"Smile, little bride," Steven murmurs against your ear, his breath hot on your skin. "They expect their new queen to look pleased."

You force your lips into what you hope resembles joy, though your heart pounds with a mixture of fear and confusion.

"Come," Steven says, his voice carrying the unmistakable tone of command. "My people wish to celebrate their new queen."

He leads you through the throng, his large hand firmly clasping yours. People bow as you pass, some reaching out to touch the hem of your gown for luck. Their faces blur together—a sea of strangers who are now your people.

The festivities are already underway, musicians beginning to play, the people laugh and sing, some raise horns of mead in celebration. A feast has been prepared, you realize, as servants begin bringing forth platters of food to tables set up at the edge of the clearing.

Steven guides you to a table set on a raised platform, ornately carved chairs positioned at its center. The place of honor for the king and his new queen. As he seats you, his hand lingers possessively on the small of your back, a subtle reminder of your position.

"Eat," he commands, gesturing to the array of unfamiliar foods being laid before you. "You'll need your strength for tonight's celebrations."

The implication in his words sends a shiver down your spine. You reach for a piece of bread, if only to have something to do with your trembling hands. The food is rich and abundant – roasted meats, fresh fish, cheeses, fruits, and breads sweeter than any you've tasted before. Despite your churning emotions, your body betrays you with hunger after days of sea sickness and meager rations.

You swallow your bite of bread, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. "I know nothing of being queen to your people."

A smile plays at the corners of his mouth, somehow both predatory and amused. "You will learn. I will teach you our ways, as I've already begun to teach you other things."

Heat rises to your cheeks at his implication, memories of your nights together flashing unbidden through your mind. You look away, focusing instead on the celebration unfolding before you. Warriors drink and boast of their exploits, young women dance to the music of drums and pipes, children dart between the tables, snatching treats when their elders aren't looking.

People approach to offer congratulations and gifts—intricate jewelry, finely woven textiles, weapons of exquisite craftsmanship. You accept each with a gracious smile. It was not they who stole you from your home.

As the celebration wears on, a strange feeling settles over you. These people—Steven's people—treat you with a deference you had not anticipated. Their eyes hold curiosity rather than malice, and some of the women offer shy smiles as they present their gifts. You realize it’s unlikely they know how you came to be here, that their king took you by force from another life.

"You're quiet, little bride," Steven murmurs, his hand coming to rest possessively on your thigh beneath the table. "Are your thoughts still with your village?"

You tense at his touch but force yourself to remain composed before his people. "I'm merely... overwhelmed," you answer truthfully.

Steven studies your face, his blue eyes searching. "You will learn to love it here," he says with no room for argument. "Our lands are rich, our people strong. And you..." his fingers trace a path up your thigh, "...will want for nothing as my queen."

You suppress a shiver at his touch. "And what of my duties as queen?" you ask, hoping to divert his attention from the intimate caress. "What will be expected of me?"

Steven leans back, taking a deep draught from his ornate drinking horn before answering. "You will oversee the household, settle disputes among the women, bear my children." His eyes darken at these last words. "Strong sons to carry my bloodline."

The thought of bearing his children sends a confusing mix of emotions through you – fear, resignation, and something else you dare not name. You take a sip of mead to hide your expression, the sweet liquid warming your throat.

Your eyes fall on a group of children playing near the edge of the clearing. They chase each other, laughing, carefree in a way you can scarcely remember feeling. One small girl with wild blonde hair catches your eye and waves shyly.

"The feast will continue until nightfall," Steven says, following your gaze. "But we need not stay that long."

Your stomach tightens at his implication. Despite all he's already taken from you, despite the nights on his ship, the thought of the wedding night still fills you with a mixture of dread and a burning you do not wish to acknowledge.

"More mead," Steven commands a passing servant, who hurriedly fills each of your cups at the royal table.

As twilight approaches, the celebration grows more boisterous. Warriors compete in feats of strength, their muscles glistening with sweat as they heft logs and stones to impress the crowd. Women dance with increasing abandon, skirts swirling as they weave between fires that now burn bright against the darkening sky.

You've slowly nursed many cups of mead as pressed on you be Steven for hours, the sweet honey wine making your head swim pleasantly, dulling the edges of your fear, but as you’ve dutifully eaten throughout the day and not drunk too swiftly, you feel you still have most of your wits about you. It is something else that truly affects you - Steven’s hand has not left your thigh, occasionally venturing higher in a possessive caress that each time sends unwanted flares of heat through your body.

"It is time," Steven declares suddenly, rising to his feet. The crowd falls silent, all eyes turning toward their king. "My bride and I thank you for your celebration, but now we must consummate our marriage."

A raucous cheer erupts from the gathering. Several warriors pound the tables with their fists. "To the king and his bride!" someone shouts, and the crowd roars even louder.

Your heart hammers in your chest as Steven pulls you to your feet. The crowd's cheering grows louder, more insistent, as he leads you away from the feast. Some of the men call out crude suggestions that make your cheeks burn, while women toss flower petals in your path—a strange juxtaposition of vulgarity and tradition that leaves you dizzy.

"Must you have announced it so boldly?" you whisper, struggling to keep pace with his long strides.

Steven glances down at you, amusement playing across his features. "It is our way. The consummation is an important part of the ceremony."

"We have already..." you begin, then falter, unable to speak the words aloud.

"Yes," he agrees, his voice dropping to a growl that sends shivers down your spine. "But not as husband and wife."

The walk back to the great hall feels both endless and too swift. Steven's hand remains firmly at the small of your back, guiding you through torchlit corridors. Servants bow as you pass, their eyes carefully averted. The sound of celebration fades behind you, replaced by the echo of your footsteps and the thundering of your pulse in your ears.

You recognize the door to Steven's chambers—your chambers now, you suppose. Two guards stand at attention outside, their expressions impassive as they open the heavy oak door. Steven leads you inside, and your breath catches at the transformation of the room. During your brief glimpse this morning, it had been merely a bedchamber—impressive in size and furnishings, but ordinary. Now it glows with dozens of candles, their light dancing across walls hung with tapestries of rich blues and silvers that match your wedding attire. The massive bed has been strewn with fresh furs and linens, and scattered with petals of blue wildflowers. The air is heavy with scents of beeswax, pine, and something sweeter—perhaps meadowsweet or lavender.

The door closes behind you with a heavy thud, and you flinch at the finality of it. You are alone with him now—your captor, your king, your husband.

Steven moves to a table that holds a flagon of wine, fruits, and honey cakes—sustenance for the long night ahead.

His back to you, he speaks, "You performed well today, little bride.”

"Thank you," you murmur, uncertain how else to respond to his strange compliment. Your fingers trace the intricate silver embroidery at your sleeve, needing something to occupy your hands.

Steven pours deep red wine into two goblets, the liquid catching the candlelight like blood. When he turns to face you, his expression has changed—the public face of the king replaced by something more primal, more intimate. More dangerous.

"Come," he says, extending one of the goblets.

You cross the room as slowly as you dare, taking the offered wine. Your fingers brush his, and even that small contact sends a jolt through your body. The wine is rich and heavy on your tongue, warming your throat as you swallow.

"Are you afraid?" Steven asks, watching you over the rim of his goblet.

The question catches you off guard with its directness. "Would it matter if I were?”

Steven's eyes narrow slightly at your question. He sets his goblet down on the table with deliberate care, the soft clink of metal against wood echoing in the quiet room.

"Yes," he says finally, surprising you with his answer. "It would matter."

He steps closer, and you resist the urge to retreat. His hand rises to your face, fingers tracing your cheekbone with unexpected gentleness.

"Fear has its purpose," he continues, his voice low. "It keeps us alive, makes us cautious. But there are different kinds of fear." His thumb brushes across your lower lip. "The fear of a warrior before battle is not the same as the fear of a child in the dark."

You take another sip of wine to steady yourself, to buy time before responding. "And what kind of fear do you think I should have, my king?"

A smile plays at the corners of his mouth. "The kind that quickens your pulse and makes your hands tremble." His hand slides to the nape of your neck, fingers tangling in the intricate braids Helga had so carefully arranged. "The kind that heightens every sensation, makes every touch more intense."

You swallow hard, acutely aware of the heat radiating from his body, the scent of him—leather and pine and something uniquely male—filling your senses. His proximity affects you in ways you wish it didn't, your traitorous body responding to him despite everything.

His hands move to the silver circlet atop your head, removing it with careful precision. He places it on a nearby table, the metal catching the candlelight with a soft gleam. Your heart pounds as his fingers begin to work through your elaborately braided hair, unraveling Helga's careful work with methodical patience.

"Do you know why I chose you?" Steven asks, his voice a low rumble as he frees the last braid, allowing your hair to fall loose around your shoulders.

You shake your head, not trusting your voice.

"When I saw you in that wedding dress, fleeing through the forest..." His fingers trail down to trace your jawline. "Most women would have hidden, cowered. But you led others to safety. There was fire in your eyes even as my men dragged you before me."

His eyes search yours now, as though seeking that same fire. You stand perfectly still, afraid that any movement might break this strange moment of honesty between you.

"And then," he continues, his voice dropping even lower, "when I took you to my bed that first night, you fought me in ways no one has dared in years. Not with weapons, but with the defiance in your eyes, the tension in your body even as it betrayed you with pleasure."

You look away, shame burning your cheeks at the reminder of how your body had responded to his touch. His fingers grasp your chin firmly, forcing you to meet his gaze once more.

"Look at me when I speak to you," he commands, though his tone lacks the harshness you've come to expect. "A queen must never lower her eyes, not even to her king."

"Is that what you want?" you ask.

His eyes darken as he looks at you. "I want a queen who knows her place."

The gentleness vanishes in an instant. Steven's hand suddenly tightens in your hair, yanking your head back with brutal force. His mouth crashes down on yours, teeth clashing, nothing like the ceremonial kiss shared before his people. This is possession, pure and raw.

"Enough talk," he growls against your lips. "You are my wife now, and I will claim what's mine."

In one swift motion, he tears at the delicate fastenings of your wedding gown, the sound of ripping fabric filling the chamber. The beautiful silver embroidery that had caught the light so elegantly now lies in tatters as he roughly yanks the garment from your body.

"Did you think marriage would soften me?" Steven snarls, shoving you backward toward the bed. "That a ceremony would change what I am?"

Your back hits the furs, and before you can recover, Steven is upon you, his massive frame pinning you down. His mouth crashes against yours in a brutal kiss that has nothing of tenderness in it. His teeth catch your lower lip, the metallic taste of blood blooming on your tongue. You gasp, and he takes advantage, deepening the kiss, his tongue invading your mouth with the same ruthless determination he'd shown in conquering your village.

"I may have made you my queen," he growls into your mouth, "but never forget who you belong to."

His hands are everywhere, rough and demanding, leaving no part of you untouched. The thin undergarment provides little barrier to his exploration, and soon that too is torn away, leaving you naked beneath him.

"Mine," he snarls against your throat, teeth scraping the sensitive skin there. "Say it."

You remain silent, a last, desperate act of defiance. His hand finds your breast, fingers pinching your nipple with painful intensity.

"Say it," he demands again, twisting harder.

"Yours," you gasp, the word torn from your throat.

A triumphant gleam lights his eyes as he releases your nipple, his hand sliding lower across your stomach. "Again," he commands.

"I'm yours," you repeat, the words burning like poison on your tongue. Yet beneath the bitterness lies something else—something you dare not examine too closely.

Steven's eyes flash with satisfaction. "Yes," he growls, "mine to take, mine to pleasure, mine to rule."

"Your body knows the truth even when your mind rebels," he murmurs, his breath hot against your dampened skin.

His hands push your thighs apart roughly, settling his weight between them. You can feel him hard against you, still clothed while you lie naked and vulnerable beneath him. The disparity in power is evident, but that’s not why you’re unhappy he’s still clothed - you want to feel his flesh pressed against your flesh.

The realization startles you, this unwanted craving. Your fingers find the fastenings of his tunic and begin to work them open. Steven's eyes widen slightly at your unexpected boldness, then narrow with renewed hunger.

"Eager, little bride?" he taunts, but allows you to continue undressing him. His tunic falls away, revealing the muscled torso you've come to know intimately during your nights at sea. The candlelight plays across his skin, highlighting scars both old and new—a map of battles won and lost.

Your fingers trace one particularly jagged scar that runs from his shoulder across his chest. "How did you get this one?" you ask, surprising yourself with the question.

Steven's hand covers yours, pressing it flat against the raised flesh. "A Saxon blade, three summers ago. I killed the man who gave it to me and six of his companions."

His admission s no surprise, yet still makes your blood chill.

His voice holds no remorse, only pride in his lethal skill. You wonder how many men have fallen to his sword, how many villages like yours have suffered under his raids. Yet here you are, naked beneath him, your body responding to his touch despite everything he's done.

"Does that frighten you?" Steven asks, his eyes studying your reaction. "To know you lie with a killer?"

You meet his gaze steadily. "I've always known what you are."

Something flickers in his eyes—approval, perhaps, at your honesty. His hand leaves yours to continue tracing the path of the scar, fingers trailing down his chest to the waistband of his breeches.

"And what am I?" he challenges, voice dropping to a dangerous purr.

"A warrior," you answer. "A conqueror."

“Your husband,” he says, guiding your hands to the laces of his breeches.

"My husband," you repeat, the word still foreign on your tongue as your fingers work at the laces. The fabric parts beneath your touch, revealing him, hard and ready.

Steven's eyes darken at your words. "Say it again," he commands, his voice rough with desire.

"My king," you repeat, louder this time. Something shifts between you in that moment - not submission exactly, but acknowledgment. This is your reality now, whether you chose it or not.

His hand cups your face, the touch unexpectedly gentle despite the ferocity in his eyes.

"And what does a wife owe her husband?" he asks, his voice a low rumble that resonates through your body.

You swallow hard, meeting his gaze. "Her loyalty," you answer carefully. "Her obedience."

"Yes," he agrees, his thumb tracing your lower lip.

"And what else?”

"Her body," you whisper, the words sending an unwelcome heat through your veins.

"Good," Steven growls, his approval darkening his eyes further. "And will you give your king what he is owed?"

Your heart hammers against your ribs as you realize this is no mere question—it's a test. Not of submission, but of understanding. Of acceptance. The wine and mead from the feast swim in your head, but not enough to blur the reality of your situation. This is your life now. This man—conqueror, king, husband—is your future.

"Yes," you answer, the single word sealing your fate more surely than any marriage ceremony.

His eyes flash with triumph, but also something else. He sheds his remaining clothing with efficient movements, then looms over you once more, gloriously naked, his body radiating heat in the candlelit chamber. Your eyes travel the landscape of his form - the broad shoulders, the muscled chest tapering to narrow hips, the powerful thighs. A warrior's body, honed by battle and hardship.

"Look your fill," he murmurs, arrogance coloring his tone. "All this belongs to you now, as you belong to me."

His hand slides up your thigh, fingers tracing patterns on your sensitive skin. Your breath catches as he moves higher, his touch leaving trails of fire in its wake. When he reaches the apex of your thighs, you can't help the small sound that escapes your lips.

"So wet for me already," he taunts, his fingers circling your sensitive bud with practiced precision. "Your body betrays your true feelings, little bride."

You turn your face away, eyes squeezing shut against the building pleasure. It's not fair how easily he can manipulate your responses, how thoroughly he knows your body after a handful of nights.

"Look at me," he commands, his voice rough with desire. "I told you a queen must never lower her eyes, and certainly not when I have you like this."

Reluctantly, you obey, meeting his intense gaze. His hands slide beneath your thighs, lifting and spreading them wider as he positions himself between your legs. The head of his cock teases your entrance, hot and insistent. Despite everything, your body responds to his touch, growing slick with need.

"Tell me what you want," Steven demands, his voice husky with desire.

The words stick in your throat. To voice your desire feels like the final surrender, an admission you're not sure you're ready to make. Yet your body betrays you, hips shifting restlessly, seeking the friction he denies you.

"Say it," he growls, nipping at your earlobe. "I want to hear you beg for your king's cock."

"Please," you whisper, the word barely audible.

Steven's hand grips your throat, not hard enough to cut off your air, but firmly enough to demonstrate his power.

"Louder," he commands, his thumb pressing against your pulse point. "I want to hear you, wife."

"Please," you say, your voice stronger now. "I want... I want you inside me."

A slow, predatory smile spreads across Steven's face. "As you wish, my queen."

With one powerful thrust, he buries himself inside you. Your body, already accustomed to him after the nights at sea, accepts him more easily now, though his size still stretches you to your limit. He groans in satisfaction, his hand releasing your throat to brace himself above you.

Steven sets a relentless pace, each thrust driving deeper than the last. His hands grip your hips, positioning you perfectly to take all of him. The bed creaks beneath your joined bodies, the sound mingling with your gasps and his grunts of pleasure. You find yourself clinging to his broad shoulders, nails digging into his skin as he drives into you.

"Is this what you wanted, little bride?" he growls against your ear, his breath hot on your skin. "To be fucked by your king on your wedding night?"

"Yes," you gasp, the word torn from you by a particularly deep thrust that hits something exquisite inside you. The shame you felt at your responses has begun to fade with each passing night in his possession, replaced by a hunger that frightens you with its intensity.

His rhythm never falters, each powerful thrust driving you closer to the edge. One of his hands slides between your bodies, fingers finding that sensitive bundle of nerves. Your back arches at his touch, a cry escaping your lips. Steven's mouth crashes down on yours, swallowing the sound as his fingers work in time with his thrusts.

"Come for me, wife," he commands, his voice strained with his own approaching release. "I will have you shatter around my cock."

The command in his voice triggers something primal within you. Your body obeys before your mind can protest, pleasure crashing through you in waves that leave you gasping and trembling beneath him. Your inner walls clench around him as you peak, drawing a guttural groan from deep in his chest.

Steven groans in satisfaction, his pace becoming erratic as your inner walls clench around him. With a final, powerful thrust, he buries himself to the hilt inside you, his release filling you as he groans your name—not "little bride" or "wife," but your actual name, the sound of it on his lips strangely intimate in this moment of abandon.

For several moments, the only sound in the chamber is your mingled breathing. Steven's weight presses you into the furs, his body slick with sweat against yours. You should feel crushed, should want to push him away, but there's a strange comfort in the solid weight of him—an anchor as your life has been untethered from everything you knew before, in an ocean of unknown future.

Though he's buried to the hilt in you, Steven's hand still clutches your hip in a bruising grip, his breathing ragged against your neck. The candlelight flickers across his sweat-slicked shoulders as he finally stirs, pressing his lips to the tender spot beneath your ear in an unexpectedly gentle gesture.

"Mine," he murmurs, his voice thick with satisfaction. The possessive word should anger you, but instead sends an unwelcome shiver down your spine.

"Your people seemed pleased with their new queen," Steven says after a long silence, his fingers absently stroking your lower back.

"You did well today," he murmurs, his voice rumbling through his chest beneath your ear. "My people are impressed by their new queen."

You remain silent, unsure how to respond to praise for a role you never sought. Steven draws a finger beneath the line of your jaw, gently forcing your chin to look up at him.

"You will learn to love it here," he says, and though his tone is soft, there's an undercurrent of command. "This is your home now. These are your people."

"And if I don't?" you ask, the question slipping out before you can stop it.

Steven's eyes narrow, his jaw tightening at your question. For a moment, you fear you've pushed too far. Then his expression shifts, something almost like admiration flickering in his gaze.

You consider his words, the pragmatic truth in them. What choice do you have but to adapt to this new life? Your old one is lost to you forever.

"I'll try," you whisper, the words more honest than you intended. It's not submission exactly, but acknowledgment of your reality. You cannot change what has happened, can only move forward in this strange new life.

Steven's expression softens slightly, his hand moving to cup your cheek. "That is all I ask."

And then he presses your face up to meet his hungry lips, devouring yours again in a kiss.

And when he breaks it for a moment of air, he adds an ominous, "For now," before demanding to drink more from your mouth.

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

SEQUEL: Come Down from Battle

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

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yushi-ni · 2 days ago

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ᯓᢉ𐭩 dating OH SION

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ masterlist

requested!! dating oh sion ㅤꨄ︎ established relationship!!! fluff, mentions of kissing - pda but no full on card games!!

hiii loves!!! here’s a cute little sion headcannons. for some reason headcannons are so fun and ‘easy’ to write. i can add so many random thoughts into one thing it’s amazing hahahaha anyways!!! i hope you like this one and definitely lmk if you do. as always any form of interaction is highly appreciated. xoxo

──୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ──

⚝ dating sion means endless support and adoration as you both grow and learn about each other every single day. no matter how long you have been together, sion surprises you over and over again with his love and affection for you. sion is the boyfriend of all boyfriends and you might have actually just hit the absolute jackpot in life with him on your side

⚝ sion dates to marry (i said what i said) and is very serious about his relationship with you. you are both young adults with a very long life ahead of you and some of the most important things to him are trust and a good fundamental basis. communication, respect and being true to yourself are key to the success of your relationship together. he loves you and will do anything to make sure you know he wants you today, tomorrow and the rest of his life (i need a sion bf)

⚝ he LOVES physical affection in all forms, holding hands, linking arms, kisses, hugs etc etc he cannot get enough of it. his #1 love language is without a doubt physical touch and he is definitely not one to shy away from a little pda (always keeps it kid friendly whenever the youngsters are around) he always has his hands on you, he just loves feeling you close to him!!!!!!!

⚝ not only you, but literally everyone around him knows how much he loves you since your dear boyfie cannot shut his lips about you even if he tried his hardest. but it's cute, you are always on his mind so he can't help but bring you up in the conversation with his friends. everything just seems to remind him of you in some way and he’s just too excited to share it with whoever is around him at that very moment

⚝ sion is the best listener ever. doesn't matter what's on your mind he is always there to listen. from serious worries that keep you up at night to funny 'what if' theories that pop up at random moments of the day; he is always all ears. when something bothers you, he always encourages you to speak up about it. even if it's just him listen to your thoughts and rants, he wants to know what's on your mind so he can understand you better and maybe even help you with a possible solution to your problems. nonetheless he just wants you to feel heard

⚝ random flowers and little gifts are a common thing with bf sion. he loves the look on your face whenever he surprises you with a pretty bouquet of your favorite flowers. from gifts as simple as a cute keychain or a book you have been wanting to read to more meaningful things like handwritten letters. he loves giving you gifts because it's a way of showing you he loves and knows you and your likings, like snacks and other things in your favorite colors

⚝ sion is the type of bf to give you a necklace with his initials for your anniversary. literally kicking his feet by the idea of you wearing his initials around your neck. if he could he would give you a ring, bracelet, keychain, phone case and even an ankle bracelet with his name on it as well. but to keep it classy he will just stick to the necklace (for now)

⚝ obsessed might actually be the best way to describe your bf when it comes to you. your smile, small hands (compared to his), your giggles, the way you look so concentrated trying to follow a new recipe you found online or the way your eyes light up when you see a cute little puppy on the street; he has never seen anyone SO PERFECT in his life. he genuinely thinks you must have saved the planet in your past life because there is no way you are this perfect???? and trust me he lets you know every. single. day. again. and. again.

⚝ sion is the type of boyfriend that texts you the most random things on the daily basis. from sweet goodmorning and goodnight texts to pictures of cute cats and the food he eats. he just wants to share his day and thoughts with you. also really likes if you do the same but even if you don’t; expect a random picture of the clouds that looked like a race car

⚝ sion is a very mature person, also thanks to his role as the leader and oldest hyung of his team, he is always looking out for his members as he feels a lot better of responsibility for his team but when he's around you he feels like he can let all his worries go and just forget about it for a little while. he is also not afraid to talk to you about things that are going on in his mind and trusts you more than anything in this world. he feels like you’re always so understanding and just know exactly what to say to calm him and his worries down. your energy itself is enough to keep him from going insane

⚝ we all know he is just a little kid by nature. his bubbly personality and the permanent smile on his face are what made you fall in love with him. he still plays pranks on you every single week, just harmless little things. he loves teasing you and joking around with you and you honestly think it's so cute so you let him have his fun. also big on ijbol’ing in your face, not in a rude manner (pls he would never) but he just can’t hold back his laughter

⚝ his members are really important to him so quite early on in your relationship he introduced you to the guys. it was very important to him that you got along with them since he doesn't want to separate the most influential people in his life. but there was no need to worry about his friends but liking you because they literally treat you like the 7th member of their group. he’s genuinely so happy you all get along and the younger ones look up to you as their big ‘sister’. you also know when to give him and his members their alone time, to enjoy their free time together as buddies and not just as colleagues and he appreciates that more than anything

⚝ if you’re a foreigner - non korean person; he’s super interested to learn about you and your culture. wants to hear about all the fun childhood traditions your family has and always tries to make an effort to include them in your own life together. he moved across the country and even though it’s not even close to being in a whole different country he definitely has a sense of understanding how it feels to be away from home, at times you feel homesick he always tries to cheer you up by (attempting) to make a traditional dish from your homecountry. he will always show interest in your upbringing and would be so excited to visit your home if you get the chance!!!!

⚝ if you’re not a native korean speaker; sion always helps you with your korean. ok let’s be real he definitely giggles whenever you mispronounce a word or when you make a little mistake but only because he thinks you’re cute!!! (he can’t help it) but he always encourages you to learn new words, thinks you’re so adorable when your accent slips out but can’t hide his excitement when he teaches you some of his own satoori - dialect. overall he’s just so thankful you put in so much effort to learn his native tongue, whenever you struggle with putting your thoughts into words he’s always there to help you out. his heart just melts when he hears you speak to his mother or little sister in a comfortable manner, and just imagine that big smile on his face whenever his parents compliment your korean!!! he’s just a proud bf.

⚝ sion is the definition of clingy bf. clingy might actually be his middle name at this point. he won’t overdo it tho and will definitely respect your surroundings and your own boundaries but he just can’t help feeling so affectionate when it comes to you. (he has a serious case of cuteness aggression towards others, someone should save saku fr) he does know when to stop, if you’re feeling down or sad after a long day at work or school and you don’t feel like carrying around a literal grown man like a baby he will know, he would never push himself onto you and gives you space when needed

⚝ kisses are his favorite thing ever, YOUR kisses are his favorite. a silent way of saying ily without the actual words being spoken. and i’m not talking about the full on make outs (which he absolutely loves btw) but the little pecks have him living on cloud 9 at all times. he thinks it’s so cute the way you pucker your lips, waiting for him to lean down and close the little space between you two. or whenever he has to get up early and leave before you even get up, he will never ever leave the house without giving you a small kiss as a goodbye. super big on ‘hello’ kisses whenever he sees you, once again no tongue down the others throat but just a quick kiss. cheek kisses >>>>> he LOVES it. he could kiss your cheeks all day long. fr he would if he could..

⚝ would never admit it out loud but whenever you go on little dates he will always subtly ask you what you’re planning to wear, he says it’s just to make sure you’re dressed to ‘occasion’ or something with being warm enough for the weather (tsss he’s not that sleek tho hehe) in reality he always tries to match his outfit with yours. he’s not into a complete #twin couple fit but loves color matching or something along those lines. you know he asks so he can match his fit with yours so you always answer his questions (all 8, he just needs to be sure sure ok) without any hesitation. it’s just cute and you love it

⚝ keeps a picture of you in his wallet. he probably saw it in a movie somewhere and thought it was cute but he can’t help but smile whenever he grabs his wallet and sees your face. will also have you as his wallpaper (rotating with pictures of saku and ryo ofc) and often changes it as well. he has a new ‘fav pic’ of you every single week so obviously needs to update his wallpaper too!! also loves it if he’s your lockscreen. expect a very cute giggly sion when he sees it. on that note will also definitely sneak pictures - selfies of himself on your phone for you to find later. you can honestly make a whole book with random selfies of him

⚝ loving him is something so special and everyday is just a blessing with him by your side. being loved and feeling loved is two different things but with sion as your bf you’ll definitely feel loved day in and day out. you’re lucky to have him but more than anything he feels like he won the lottery to have you as his gf. loving you is as easy and natural as breathing. he can’t and won’t ever imagine life without you. you’re his, and he will never fail to let you know

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monserelates · 2 days ago

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Moment of Truth ; James Potter

⇨ james potter x f! reader

⇨ idiots in love | mutual pining | enemies-to-friends-to-mutual-pining | accidental confession

⇨ summary: When Y/N and James accidentally drink Veritaserum - courtesy of Sirius Black, what can happen?

⇨ content warnings: use of y/n, mild swearing, Sirius being a menace, cursing (probably), I dont know what elsee

There were precisely three things Y/N L/N hated about Potions class:

1. The smell of over-boiled flobberworms.

2. Slughorn’s terrifyingly accurate matchmaking instincts.

3. Being paired with James Potter.

Especially that one.

She slammed her textbook on the shared desk with the kind of finality usually reserved for war declarations. “If you get me hexed today, Potter, I swear—”

“Oh, please,” James drawled, already lounging on the stool like he owned the place. “If I recall correctly, last time you were the one who set our cauldron on fire.”

“That was your idea!”

“Technicalities, darling.”

Y/N glared at him. He winked. Marlene, three desks over, leaned in to whisper something to Lily that made the redhead stifle a snort. Y/N didn’t need to ask what it was. Everyone—and she meant everyone—thought she and James were secretly in love.

Everyone was wrong.

(Probably)

Slughorn clapped his pudgy hands at the front of the classroom. “Today’s assignment, my dears! You’ll be brewing a Calming Draught with a twist. Additions are encouraged. Creativity is rewarded!”

Sirius Black immediately perked up. “Creativity, you say?”

James didn’t even look. “No.”

“Not talking to you, Prongs. I’m talking to our mutual friend, Chaos.”

“You named your cauldron Chaos?” Remus asked, exasperated.

Sirius grinned. “No. I named me Chaos.”

“Oh, good,” Y/N muttered. “That bodes well.”

⸻

The potion assignment started fine. Relatively.

Y/N was grinding lavender petals with more aggression than necessary while James tried (and failed) to measure ingredients with something resembling focus.

“Don’t stir counterclockwise,” she snapped. “You’ll make it unstable.”

“I am unstable,” James said with a dramatic sigh, “but thanks for your concern.”

Y/N shot him a look. “Are you ever serious?”

“No. But he is.” James pointed at Sirius.

A beat.

“I hate you.”

“No you don’t.”

She definitely did. Or at least she wanted to. Maybe. Probably. It was hard to tell when his hair curled like that at the ends and he smelled like broom polish and cinnamon.

From the corner of her eye, she caught Sirius tiptoeing toward their cauldron like a cartoon villain.

“Sirius,” she said without turning, “step away from the cauldron.”

He gasped. “How did she know?”

Remus groaned, dragging him back by the collar, but not before Sirius dropped something into the cauldron. A tiny vial, quickly hidden.

“Black!” Y/N snapped. “What the hell was that?”

“Nothing! Just a little… seasoning.”

“Seasoning,” James repeated flatly.

Sirius beamed. “Trust me. It’ll be hilarious.”

⸻

Forty minutes later, the potion shimmered an alarming shade of blue. Somehow, it was still… fine?

Y/N raised a suspicious brow.

Then Slughorn’s voice boomed across the dungeon.

"Let's make this interesting," Slughorn purred, eyes twinkling like a man who knew exactly what Sirius had done and wasn’t about to stop it. “Miss McKinnon, a few harmless questions, if you would?

Y/N froze. “Test it? Like drink it?”

James was already standing. “You heard the man, L/N. Let’s do science.”

“You’re an idiot.”

He grinned. “An idiot with charisma.”

She wanted to smack him. Or kiss him. It was getting harder to tell the difference lately.

Reluctantly, she followed him to the front. They each took a small vial and filled it with the glistening potion.

“Bottoms up,” James said.

Y/N narrowed her eyes. “If I die, I’m haunting your toilet.”

James winked. “Romantic.”

They drank.

The room held its breath.

Nothing happened.

Then—

Slughorn, ever the showman, clapped his hands. “Let’s make this interesting. Miss McKinnon, ask them a few harmless questions, won’t you?”

Marlene stood, wicked smile spreading. “Gladly.”

⸻

It started innocently.

“What’s your full name?”

“James Fleamont Potter,” he said automatically.

“Y/N Y/M/N L/N,” she answered with a shrug.

“What’s your favorite color?”

“Red,” James said. “Specifically when she wears it.” He pointed at Y/N.

Y/N blinked. “Excuse me?”

The class giggled. Lily leaned forward, eyes wide. “What’s going on?”

“Wait,” whispered Remus. “Did Sirius…?”

“Oh, hell,” muttered Peter.

Marlene, sensing opportunity, leaned in. “Do you fancy anyone?”

James didn’t hesitate. “Y/N.”

Y/N choked.

The words hit her like a misfired hex—slow, confusing, impossible to dodge. Her ears rang. Her heart stopped. He wasn’t joking. He hadn’t blinked. He wasn’t even smirking. James Potter had just said he fancied her. Out loud. In public. Like it was obvious. Like it was nothing. Like it meant everything.

The room erupted in noise.

“WHAT?” Sirius shouted, looking way too pleased with himself.

James tilted his head, confused. “What?”

“You—you just—” Y/N sputtered.

“You asked if I fancied anyone,” James said slowly, as if explaining it to a child. “I said yes. I fancy you.”

“I—What—You—What the fuck?!”

“Language,” Slughorn chided, entirely unbothered.

Marlene was cackling. “Okay, next question. Y/N, do you fancy James?”

Y/N opened her mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.

“…Yes,” she whispered.

Silence.

“I KNEW IT!” Lily screamed.

Remus passed Sirius a Galleon without breaking eye contact.

Sirius, gleeful, blew them both a kiss.

Y/N looked like she wanted the ground to open and swallow her whole.

James looked like Christmas had come early.

“I’m going to kill Sirius,” she muttered.

“Get in line,” Remus sighed.

⸻

The potion wore off five minutes later, but the damage was done.

Y/N bolted the moment class ended. James hesitated, then ran after her.

He found her in the empty corridor outside the Potions dungeon, pacing like a storm cloud.

“Y/N—”

“Don’t,” she snapped. “Don’t try to make this a joke.”

“I’m not joking,” he said, serious now. “Not even a little.”

She froze. Her voice was small. “You really meant it?”

He stepped closer. “Every word. Even the part about the red jumper.”

She laughed—just once—and then turned away. “I didn’t want to say it. I didn’t mean to say it.”

“It was Veritaserum.”

“I know,” she snapped. “That’s the problem. I meant it too.”

He was silent for a beat. Then, softly: “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because you’re you, James. Everyone’s in love with you. I didn’t want to be another girl throwing herself at you.”

“You’re not,” he said fiercely. “You’re the one I wanted. The only one.”

Silence fell again.

“Ever since you hexed me for calling you babe,” he added, smiling slightly.

“I’ll do it again,” she warned, but her voice cracked.

He stepped close enough to brush her hair from her face. “You’ve been in my head since third year.”

“James—”

“I’m not saying this because of the potion. I’m saying it because I’ve been waiting for the right moment, and apparently Sirius doesn’t believe in subtlety.”

She laughed again, watery this time.

And then she kissed him.

It was slightly clumsy, a little desperate, and full of all the words they hadn’t said—but it was perfect.

When they finally pulled apart, breathless and stunned, James whispered, “So… does this mean we’re dating?”

She hesitated. “I don’t know how to do this,” she whispered, eyes searching his face.

He tucked her hair behind her ear, voice low. “Then we’ll figure it out. Together.”

Y/N looked up, eyes still glassy. “Only if you stop calling me ‘darling.’”

“Deal,” he grinned. “How about ‘love of my life’?”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re insufferable.”

“You love it.”

She did. She really, really did.

⸻

They walked back to the common room hand-in-hand.

Inside, chaos.

Remus and Sirius were arguing about the payout of their “will-they-won’t-they” betting pool. Peter was counting coins. Lily was still screaming.

Slughorn sent them a congratulatory owl later that evening, complete with chocolate and a note that read:

“About time, my dears.”

James kept the note.

Y/N hexed Sirius into a cupboard the next day.

James didn’t even complain.

She was still the most frustrating person he’d ever met.

But now he got to kiss her after she insulted him.

It was the best week of his life.

In the staff room, tucked behind a stack of enchanted files and a suspiciously animated portrait of a weeping badger, a large corkboard was glowing faintly.

The headline, spelled out in glittering gold thread:

❝Staff Predictions: Potter & L/N (a.k.a. The Disaster Duo)❞

Below it were dozens of slips of parchment, pinned with varying levels of smugness.

Minerva McGonagall’s elegant cursive sat in the “November” column, annotated with a tiny “Eventually, she’ll hex him and kiss him in the same day.”

Filius Flitwick had scribbled “Before Halloween—young love is impulsive!” complete with a stick-figure doodle of the pair bickering mid-hug.

Even Hagrid had scrawled something barely readable that included the words “terri'fyin’ chemistry” and “bless ‘em.”

But it was Professor Sinistra who stepped into the room now, still wearing her Astronomy robes and holding a cup of cocoa.

She eyed the corkboard, then smiled.

“They kissed,” she announced, casually as if commenting on the weather.

There was a beat of stunned silence—then a flurry of movement.

McGonagall looked up from her papers with a proud hum. “About time.”

Sprout slammed her mug on the table. “I was one week off!”

Binns floated through a wall muttering, “I had money on her storming out of Christmas dinner first.”

Slughorn burst through the door moments later, waving a chocolate-stained napkin. “Confirmed! I got a firsthand report from Marlene McKinnon. They’re holding hands, Minerva. Holding hands!”

McGonagall raised a single brow. “Did anyone inform the Board of Magical Misconduct we’re running an illegal relationship gambling ring on school grounds?”

Professor Blackwood, lurking like a shadow in the corner, sneered. “It’s barely illegal. It’s pathetic.”

“You lost the last pool, didn’t you?” Flitwick chirped, not looking up from where he was adjusting the enchanted countdown clock above the board, which now read:

“JAMES & Y/N — OFFICIALLY TOGETHER — 0 days, 0 hours, 13 minutes.”

Blackwood scowled and disappeared into his cloak like a disappointed bat.

Trelawney floated in late, peered at the glowing board, and whispered, “Ah yes. The stars align. Their souls were always fated to combust.”

Slughorn beamed. “I knew it! My Calming Draught Chaos Twist was inspired. I’ll need to write this down—perhaps an essay for Witch Weekly. Or a dramatic retelling for the next Slug Club dinner.”

From the window, an enchanted quill updated the scoreboard:

Total Winnings: 243 Galleons

Next Bet Pool: “When Will They Admit It to Themselves?” (Deadline: Midnight Tomorrow)

McGonagall sighed deeply and sipped her tea.

“I give it until breakfast,” she murmured.

And from the magical board, a tiny voice whispered smugly:

“Told you they’d kiss before October.”

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#enemies-to-friends-to-mutual-pining #estranged friends to lovers #marauders era #1970s #the marauders #james potter #marauders #all the young dudes #james potter x reader #remus lupin #james fleamont potter #fanfics #moony wormtail padfoot and prongs #james potter fanfiction #james potter x you #james potter x y/n #hogwarts x reader

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oleander-cup · 3 days ago

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impossible - where she finds out she isn't impossible to love. // wc: 20k // pairing: kita x fem reader // content: panic attacks, angst, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, fighting, throwing things, atsumu is an asshole ex, healing, executive dysfunction, slow burn, self-worth issues, past toxic relationship, some lines can read as suggestive

She didn’t think she would end up here, on a sunny day holding a box with the words ‘his’ drawn on in a dying marker. Her hand tentatively reaches up and raps against the door with quick but loud knocks. Her teeth pull her lip between them and bite gently as they roll the flesh around. She can feel her heartbeat the closer the footsteps behind the door get to where she is. How did it get like this? When was she scared to visit this house?

One that used to be her home. The door is the same, same peeling paint around the doorknob and the hinges. Same tilted window with the stickers on it to make it appear like stained glass on the inside. The door opens and a quick breath of air comes into her lungs, “oh, are we doing that today?” is all he says as he leans against the doorframe.

“Yes,” the words escape her mouth and for some reason her eyes begin to sting. “Yes, we are doing this today, I don’t want to see these things anymore.” She hears the scoff before her eyes register the look on his face. Hurt. He doesn’t get to feel hurt. Not when this was all because of him anyway.

“Didn’t realize my stuff was clouding up your apartment anyway. It is small though so I guess you needed space.” The jab doesn’t go unmissed. Yes, it’s a small apartment but it’s more than enough for herself and a guest. Not everyone has the salary of a pro-athlete and can afford their own home before the age of 22.

“I did. I’m moving and didn’t want to take it with me.” She doesn’t miss the way his eyebrows furrow slightly and his body leans back as if jolted by electricity; within a moment all is back to his normal expression.

“Moving?” He can’t seem to help himself once he starts, he knows he should bite his tongue to make sure he doesn’t regret anything more. “Too expensive to live in the city?” He prods with a laugh knowing it will hurt, but part of him wants it to. Wants it to hurt the way that he is.

“I don’t need reminders of you.” Her voice holds anger as she gets louder than before. The box gets shoved towards him. “Here-” her voice breaks slightly and she wants to hide herself away but tries to keep her brave face.

“What’s so bad about remembering me?” He scoffs and pushes the box back towards her as he takes a step away.

“Everything,” she sighs and sets the box down. “Look I’ll just leave-”

“No. You don’t get to just leave again.” There’s an anger in his voice that sounds more serious than before.

“I’m tired, Atsumu. I want to go home, I want to finish packing and I want to go to my new home.” She remarks as the energy is zapped from her voice.

“Please. Just so I can gather your things if you’re really going to leave.” He steps aside and despite herself and every voice in her head telling her how bad of an idea this is, she steps over the threshold and into the house that once felt like home. She sits on the couch riddled with lint and the throw pillow she remembers gifting him for Christmas their first year together. “Do you want a water or anything?” He sets his box down on the kitchen island. Her eyes lock onto the small divot in the wall from their last fight.

“No, I’m okay.” He walks away and being in the house is too much. Her memories assault her, good and bad. Her hands find solace in playing with the strings on the throw pillow.

“You got me a pillow?” There’s an obvious hint of confusion in his voice as he looks at the brown pillow.

“I got us a pillow. Since I’m over here a lot more and your couch is…lackluster in the pillow department.” A laugh tumbles from her lips and then her head gets hit softly with a pillow. “Oh it is so on.” She rushes to get up from the couch but arms wrap around her and pull her back to his lap.

“Where are you going sweetcheeks?” He smiles as his head nuzzles into her neck and he leaves a kiss there.

“Well, you obviously declared a pillow fight.”

“Did I? I don’t remember doing such a thing.” He hits her on the head again with the pillow and she turns her face to look at him. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You just did it again!”

Not everything about the relationship was awful. It’s just hard to look onto the past without getting sad. A barely there smile is on her face as Atsumu comes back. The box in hand. It’s messy and looks thrown together last minute, it feels like the pinnacle of their relationship. She can see that the clothes in the box were haphazardly thrown into it and the book is getting all bent from its position. The box doesn’t have a label and isn’t big enough to hold everything as the top remains open. “You’re crying.”

Since when did you care when I cry? The words almost slip past her lips but she composes herself. Her hand goes up to where she can feel the tear rolling over the hills of her face. Her eyes sting and her throat begins to close up, she clears it and stands up wiping imaginary dust from her pants. She wants to tell him vile things. Wants to yell at him again. But she knows that won’t do any good, so she takes the box from his arms and thanks him for his time before she makes her way toward the door.

“Will you tell me why you were crying?” He almost pleads with her. “I don’t want you to leave my house crying again-” she almost complies, can feel words bubbling beneath the surface. “Don’t want the paparazzi to see and get the wrong message.” And there it is. What makes Atsumu, well, Atsumu. He will always push away feelings with poorly timed jokes and attitude.

“If only– nope. I’m better than that.” She shuts her eyes and her face scrunches up as she takes a deep breath to attempt to calm herself down. “It’s always the same with you isn’t it. Too insecure to let everyone know that you can feel things.”

“Better than spewing my feelings everywhere like a bad sickness.” The walls feel as though they’re closing in on her. She can feel the hate in them and realizes why this house no longer felt like home. It’s too filled with hate, filled with words that never passed his lips in her company. Words only the wallpaper heard and held on to.

“You keep talking to the walls, Atsumu. I hope they keep better company than you.”

“Wait- that’s not what I–” He lifts his hand and for a brief moment she can feel herself flinch. Can feel her bones move and shrink in on themselves to make her smaller, to hide her away. “Gods, I wasn’t going to hit you. I’ve never hit you, why would I start now.”

“Your words have stung sharper than any hits I’ve taken,” her filter has disappeared. She can’t hold back the words anymore now that she doesn’t have the energy to keep them hidden in her mind. “You can’t do this Atsumu, you can’t say things you decide you don’t mean when you realize they hurt people and then apologize and act like everything is perfectly fine. Hell, you don’t even properly apologize Atsumu, you brush the problem off with gifts and hope I forget about it.”

“I tried my best, I tried my best for you. It’s not my fault I wasn’t good enough,” he shakes his head and furrows his brows.

“It wasn’t that you weren’t good enough. Are you listening to the words I’m saying Atsumu?”

“I hate when you treat me like a child,” he mumbles under his breath but makes sure she can hear it.

“Well then don’t act like one.” She can feel the anger growing as her voice teeters on the edge of a shout.

“Maybe I wouldn’t act like a child if you didn’t treat me like one,” it’s a weak argument and he knows it as soon as it passes his lips but his mind is blinded with rage. He’s focused on proving himself right, everyone else be damned.

“This is why we didn’t work out. You’re too hot headed and I’m too–”

“Our relationship didn’t work out because you asked too much of me without giving me anything in return Y/N.”

“That’s not true and you know it.” She points her finger at him and they grow closer to each other.

“Oh really.” He takes another step forward and crosses his arms as he looks down at her.

“Tell me when this happened Atsumu,” she challenges and doesn’t back down as she steps closer to him. They are now pressed against each other; the thing keeping them apart is the box of her belongings; the room feels much smaller than it had moments prior.

“You were constantly nagging at me to talk to you but whenever you felt hurt you refused to talk to me. You went to your little friends to tell them what was happening instead of talking to me about it. Always wanting to feel like you’re right even when you’re not and instead of admitting it you gaslight people into thinking you were right.”

“Maybe I wouldn’t have had to go to my friends to tell them what was wrong if you listened when I told you what was wrong.” She spits the words out like venom.

“Maybe I would have listened if you weren’t always going on about random nonsense. No one cares. No one cares about you or your feelings. You’ve always been impossible. I don’t know how I ever fell in love with you.”

“I’m not sure you did, Atsumu.” The statement brings a somberness that the words moments before didn’t hold.

“No, you…” he sucks in air through his teeth. “You don’t get to tell me how I felt Y/N. You don’t get to come to my home and insult me. I loved you. I loved you so much I felt like I was burning inside, you were burning me. You with your fake promises and words, you were the one who pulled away from me. I could feel it in every sigh you took, in every step we walked when the distance was too far for my hand to brush against yours. I loved you.”

“I can tell you my perceptions of your feelings. I can tell you how it felt to not be loved by you. Burning you? That’s rich. Considering everything you touch seems to turn to cinder and ash. You are the fire Atsumu, you can keep people warm but you destroy them. I left because of you. You–”

“I loved you. I lov–”

“Stop this game. Stop it Atsumu, I can’t do this today.” Her eyes begin to sting again and her throat feels much tighter than before. The moths in her stomach fly around and she feels like she could throw up.

“You’re the one who came here,” he mentions bitterly.

“I might be the one who came here but you left long before I did.”

“I was here. In what was going to be our home, I was here waiting for you.” She picks her head up as the hot tears roll over her cheeks and she can feel the salty taste in her mouth as she opens it.

“Waiting for me? Waiting for me?” She repeats the words twice before a wet laugh comes out of her and she throws her head back. “Atsumu, you have never waited for anyone in your life.”

“I waited for you. I slept in the same bed as you for months tossing and turning as the space between us grew bigger and before I knew it you were gone.”

“And how did that happen?”

“Because you pulled away.”

“Because you pushed me away. I only left because I was pushed. I always loved you more than you loved me. You were too keen to hurt people and say it was love.” He’s silent now, can feel his words die on his tongue. The rage is still boiling under the surface, not hidden but not as active as it was before. He feels like he was doused with water, he feels like he should be drowning. Like he is drowning. The anger doesn’t fizzle out merely makes bubbles under the water.

“I did love you.” It’s the same words he’s repeated over and over again tonight.

“As I remember, that's not what you said when I left.” He can hardly remember what he said when she had packed up her things and left his home. He remembers that one moment she was here and the next she was gone.

“I loved you,” he stays with his conviction. “You were the one who left for no good reason.”

“That’s not how I remember it.”

There wasn’t a good reason for the fight, not a big one at least. An inciting incident, Atsumu had forgotten a date. “Are you almost…” her smile falls and the words fall from her mouth as she witnesses him sit in his chair with a soda in hand and a game on the TV. The answer to her question was no. He was not almost ready.

He turns his head and looks at her outfit before he hears a whistle on the TV and his attention is promptly brought back to it. “You look nice, going somewhere?”

“Apparently not.”

“What do you– oh come on ref. That was a terrible call! It was inside the lines and you know it.” He scoffs and takes a sip of his soda before remembering that he was talking to her. “What do you mean ‘not anymore’?”

“You don’t remember?” She taps her jacket in her hand and draws her lips into a thin line.

“Remember what?” She moves to stand in front of the TV and asks the question again.

“You don’t remember our plans today?” He rolls his eyes and shuts the TV off as she blocks his view.

“We didn’t have plans today.”

“Look at your calendar,” she says almost defeated.

“Oh come on, you know I don’t check that stupid thing.”

“You were the one who put it there. Said you didn’t want to forget because you had a busy week.” He reaches over to the table to grab his phone and scrolls to the calendar app. He sighs when he looks at what the appointment was. A date. He had planned a date. And it was already fifteen minutes past the time he was supposed to get ready. He hadn’t heard his reminder go off to tell him to get ready.

He didn’t remember it going off. She had heard it go off though, she had heard it ring from the bedroom as she was doing her makeup. Her hopes were crushed when she heard the TV continue to play and he didn’t come into the room and kiss her, smudging her lipstick on his face in the process.

“I’ll make it up to you.”

“This isn’t how I want to be loved Atsumu.” That gets him to stand up, he makes his way over to her. Anger evident in every step he takes, he puts his hand on her shoulder in an attempt of a calm motion but she swipes it off. “Please, don’t touch me right now.”

“You’re being overdramatic,” he scoffs and rolls his eyes.

“Am I or do you just not care about me anymore.”

“I care about you, what the hell are you talking about?”

“I don’t feel like you care about me Atsumu, you’re never home,” she crosses her arms.

“I have to travel because of volleyball, you know this.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about and you know it. You never listen to me.”

“Then what am I doing right now?”

“Yelling. You’re not listening to me and you never have. You never talk about your feelings, you make me feel so small and unloved.”

“Well it’s not my fault you’re impossible to love.” It’s the final straw, they both know it. His hands are clenched in his hair and there’s a nasty sneer on his face as he spits the words at her.

“That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try,” her voice trembles over the words but it’s clear that she tries to cover it with a cough. Her head finally moves away from him, no longer able to look into his honeyed eyes. The ones she loved so dearly, what drew her to him in the first place. He felt so warm, instead he burned too hot and now all she feels is cold.

“Y/N, that’s not what I–”

“Just stop while you’re ahead, Atsumu.” He feels frozen in place as he watches tears pour from her eyes as she heads towards the bedroom. He’s not sure what he should do, if he should stop her or help her or, or, or, he feels stuck. In a loop of ‘or’ a multiple choice quiz without a correct answer. When he blinks again she has a bag packed and is leaving the room.

“Don’t leave,” he pleads and reaches out for her. She can’t bring herself to look at him. She knows if she takes one look at those eyes that her walls will crumble and she might be convinced to stay.

“I’m tired of staying for someone who is never here.”

“I’m here, I’m here now. I’ll listen. I’ll give you anything you want, I’ll take you to that restaurant that you’ve been dying to go to.”

“You’re not here Atsumu, and there you go again…if you had listened to me in the first place maybe things wouldn’t have gotten as twisted as they did. You can’t just throw money at all of your problems and hope they go away, you can’t treat me like a scandal that’s going to show up in the news tomorrow.” She opens the door and doesn't give him a second thought when she closes it behind her.

It’s like a weight is lifted off of her shoulders, a cold chill that is thawing. She can’t look back because it hurts too much. Can’t look back because he’s there and she needs to move forward.

“You still don’t listen, you’re just the same boy you were when I left four months ago.”

“You’re still the same coward that ran away instead of fixing our problems.”

“If I’m a coward I shiver to think what that makes you.” She picks up the box, unsure of when she dropped it in the first place and opens the door. “For the next girl that you decide you need, try listening to her instead of hoping everything is fine because you bought her something.” In an all too familiar way she closes the door and lets her back rest against it for a moment. She has no reason to come back to this house, it feels more empty than it does cold. She’ll think of the throw pillow and the crooked window and of the man inside that she once loved. She’ll remember the good times along with the bad, but she won’t be coming back here again.

She puts the box in her car along with her other ones and with one last look at the house as she pulls out she leaves. A breath escapes her as the house grows smaller the farther away she gets from it. It’s her last day in the city, she won’t have to think of it ever again. She’ll have her head in the clouds where he won’t be able to reach her anymore, where every uneven window doesn’t remind her of him and where she doesn’t have to see his face in every magazine, billboard, and fruit stand. She can be free of him.

She doesn’t turn the navigation on until she passes the town limit. She knows all of the curves and roads of the city. Remembers the corner street where she kissed him for the first time.

Standing on the corner of the street she waited for the light to turn to red so she could walk. Only a few blocks and she could get home to him. Over her headphones she couldn’t hear the calls of her name, when arms wrapped around her shoulder and pulled her headphone out she jumped before the voice reached her. “Hi sweetcheeks,” she relaxes into the arms and turns to face him.

“And what are you doing here? Don’t you have practice?” She can’t hide the palpable excitement in her voice.

“Not today, I thought I would spend the day with you.” She doesn’t fully believe the sentence but hums. “Don’t believe me?”

“No, you’re a serial liar.”

“You wound me,” he puts his hand on his chest and makes a faux hurt expression.

“Oh shut up,” the light turns red and allows for pedestrians to cross and she takes a step forward. He holds her hand to stop her from stepping forward more. “Atsumu, wha—“

“One second.” He leans down and places a swift kiss on her lips before he pulls her along. “Move your legs, let’s go home.”

She remembers the magazines the next day had it plastered all over the front cover. Her lips quirk up slightly at the thought as she remembers his reaction. She covers her mouth as a small laugh escapes her lips. He had sounded so worried. So worried about her safety from the girls who took it too far, he had worried himself sick.

All of the streets are filled with memories. They’re practically the foundation of the roads, paving the sidewalks, the bricks and glass of the buildings. He’s in everything this city has touched. Her shoulders finally fall from the tensed position they had found themselves in when her car passes the sign that says where the town limit is.

She eagerly looks around at the scenery as she drives further into the countryside. Nothing reminds her of him. Everything is fresh and new. The air feels different. Feels lighter, freer. No more billboards with his face on them, or tilted windows, or felt ridden couches. She rolls down the window and lets the air hit her face. The wind stings as it hits her face, much colder out than it should be for her to roll down the window. But she feels as though she can breathe for the first time in four months. Hell, maybe the first time in the past year. The stinging reminds her that she’s still alive.

It takes her an hour to get to the location. It’s nothing too crazy, a simple townhouse. None of the windows are tilted or hold glass stickers to make it look like stained glass. The door is freshly painted, the paint holding firm against the hinges and doorknob. She turns the key into the lock and a bright smile creeps onto her face at the click it makes. She can’t help the sound of delight that escapes her mouth as she pushes the door open, it opens easily and doesn’t catch on the floor.

“Home sweet home. My home.” She spins in a circle with a laugh coming from her mouth. After a few rotations she feels her head pound and stops before going to the car to gather the boxes. Anything that reminded her of him too much was thrown out. The only box that stays in the car is the only non-labeled box.

The cupboards are new. Everything is new. The walls don’t hold anger or fear. Her pillows don’t hold tears of many nights of crying herself to sleep, the kitchen island doesn’t have a divot from a thrown plate. Her couch isn’t covered in lint, her throw pillows have designs and her posters are hanging around everywhere. She feels like a kid again. She doesn’t feel the weight of anxiety over the other shoe dropping. Doesn’t think about what could go wrong. For the first time in a long time, her brain is quiet. She focuses on unpacking and breaking down boxes and she does so with a wide smile on her face.

— —- —- — —- —

The beeping of her alarm stirs her from her peaceful slumber, she turns over and picks the device up with a groan. Her eyes open and she remembers that she’s in her house and not her little apartment. She stops the alarm and rolls over onto her back. “It wasn’t a dream. This is really mine.” There’s a content smile on her face as she stares at the ceiling, her feet kick and she sits up.

There’s an ache in her back and she recoils a little bit and puts her hands where it hurts to stretch. “Same back pain though.” She shakes her head and moves from the bed over to her closet before realizing that most of her interview clothes are still packed up. She doesn’t need to dress too fancy, it’s a position as a farm hand. They must really need help if she was considered for an interview.

“It will be good for you, maybe it will help with your anger issues.” She tucks her button up into her slacks and after packing her lunch walks out the door. It’s not a long car ride only five minutes down the road. There’s a quaint house sitting at the top of the hill, it's painted blue with a white roof and shutters. The path is gravel and she’s a little worried about a rock flying up and hitting her windshield.

As she gets closer she can see a man standing outside. He has a set of overalls on, they have splotches of dirt and mud caked around the hems of the legs. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up past his elbows and his arms are crossed over his chest. His face holds a calm, neutral expression. She steps out of the car and he gives her a small nod, she gives him a smile in return as she draws closer to him.

“Are you Kita?” He nods and holds out his hand after taking his dirty work glove off. She reaches her own hand out, she notices that there are many calluses on his hands and that they’re rough from work.

“You must be L/N Y/N.” She nods with a smile and clasps her hands in front of her. “Will you tell me what position you’re here for, just so we’re both on the same page.”

“The ad said farm hand, I’m not entirely sure what that all entails but I’m eager to help.”

“Okay, why don’t we find some gloves and overalls for you.”

“Did I get the job…?” She furrows her brows and tilts her head a little to the side.

“This is your interview.” She doesn’t know whether she enjoys how blunt and point blank he is or if it will be a nuisance. She supposes for this it was a good thing. He turns and starts walking a little past the blue house where a rickety looking shed lies. The wood on the sides are chipped and the door is ragged at the bottom. He opens the shed and hands her a pair of gloves. “These should fit,” he says as he hands over a pair of overalls. She nods and quickly puts them on over her other clothes.

“So, what are—“

“We’ll st— sorry. Please, ask questions.” Kita quickly apologizes for cutting her off and motions for her to go on.

“Oh, thank you.” She clears her throat and takes a moment to think. “What exactly are the responsibilities of this position?”

“It depends on the day. Nothing I wouldn’t do myself, so don’t be worried about having to do a job just because I don’t want to do it.”

“Okay, well, where are we starting today?”

“We need to check if the strawberries are done, then we wash and package them after we pick them. Some of the batches will be turned into jam. Have you ever made jam before?” He leads her towards the strawberry patch. “The only real way to tell is the taste.”

Just as she’s beginning to look around for what looks like a ripe strawberry he’s pointing one out and plucking it. “This one looks ready, see if it tastes ready.” He holds the berry out and when she turns her head her brows furrow and she gives him a look of confusion. “For you to taste.” Oh. It feels like her body shuts down, Kita pushes the berry against her lips, it tinges the skin a light shade of red and makes the surface shiny. Hesitantly she opens her mouth and takes a small bite. He tosses the rest of the berry into his own mouth with a hum. “Does it seem ripe to you?”

Her skin feels too warm and her brain feels like it should have some sort of thought in it but the words get caught on the way out. She opens her mouth and closes it a few times, when he looks at her with confusion she just nods her head. “Yeah, yeah–” she clears her throat– “seems ripe to me.”

“This row should be good to start picking then, sorry it’s a bit of a walk back to the house.”

“It’s fine, it’s…nice out here.”

“Better than the hustle and bustle of the city?” The two of them fall into quiet conversation as they fill their baskets. She’s surprised as to how…comfortable it is– talking with him. The silence doesn’t cause her skin to crawl, doesn’t make her want words to tumble out of her mouth to fill the gaps. The silence is peaceful, a gentle breeze pushing pinwheels to spin. The walk back to the house isn’t as bad as he had said it would be, they don’t rush or take too long. It’s a comfortable stride, two baskets in their hands and content smiles on their faces.

The sorting takes them an hour as she has to stop and check with Kita when she’s not entirely sure whether to put a berry in the jam pile or the boxed pile. “I’m assuming we’re washing them first?” He nods and hands her the bowl they designated for ‘jam berries’ and starts to leave the kitchen.

“I’m getting the canning jars, just wash them off and I’ll be back with the ingredients.” He points down a hall and once he gets an approving nod from her that she doesn’t need help leaves the kitchen. When he returns the strawberries are on the island counter and he has a bag of sugar and a bowl of lemons in one arm and four canning jars in the other. “What we’re gonna do is mash those strawberries up, you can use a wooden spoon just fine.” He motions his head behind her and places the ingredients and jars on the counter.

She opens a few drawers before she finds the spoon and hands it to Kita but he shakes his head and pushes it back towards her. “Wash our hands and then we can mash them, why don’t you mash them and I’ll find a saucepan that’s big enough.” He walks behind her to open the oven, after deliberating for a few moments he finally decides on one he deems fit and sets it on top of the stove. She washes her hands and then starts mashing the berries with a spoon. “I sell these every two weeks during strawberry season at the local farmer’s market we have.”

“There’s a farmer’s market?”

“Yeah, it’s really nice, it’s happening this Friday if you want to go. It’s Friday, Saturday, Sunday so I’ll be gathering strawberries and making jam a majority of the week. Sorry it isn’t too exciting.”

“I’ll take it, I got the job,” she jokes and bumps him with her hip. He rolls his eyes and begins measuring out the sugar. “I would love to go, do you have your booth open the whole weekend?”

“Only Saturdays,” he answers and pulls a knife off of the holder on the wall to cut the lemons. “I like to look at the other stalls on Friday and then Sunday is making up for the work I missed Friday and Saturday. Shouldn’t be that bad now that I have some help.”

“Sounds like a plan,” she stirs the mixture around in the bowl. “Are these mashed enough?”

“Yeah, good timing. I just finished measuring everything. All we do now is put all of these into the pot and stir until the sugar is dissolved. Then, we wait for it to boil and put it in jars after a quick test. You just take a small spoonful and put it on a frozen plate, if it starts to gel after a few minutes then it’s ready.”

“This isn’t so bad, I thought this would be a lot worse.”

“Harvesting isn’t the best, it’s definitely tedious but I have good company.”

“It seems I have good company too.”

When they finish canning the row of strawberries and bagging the rest the sun is setting past the horizon. Kita walks her to her car, a hand hovering over the small of her back as he walks beside her. For a brief moment the hand touches her back when she stops walking. He turns his own head to see what she’s looking at, “the sun,” she says. “I’m not used to being able to see it set, don’t usually get off work early enough to see it.”

“Do you live around here?” She nods and points down the road.

“Just about five minutes that way.”

“Go to your backyard tonight. Put out a blanket and have a snack, I’ll take it you’ve never seen the stars without light pollution.” She shakes her head, still lost in thought as the sun disappears and the sky slowly turns to a gradient of blue. “It’s surreal to see for the first time. I think you’ll enjoy it.”

“I’ll let you know, see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, more canning and making products for the farmers market. We should be good on jam, well for the market, we can make more afterwards. So I just need to make some pies, put rice in bags, and then check to see if the peach trees are doing well.”

“That seems like a packed day.”

“It’s just routine, see you around six?”

“I thought farm work started earlier…”

“It does, I don’t need you here until six though. I should be gathering the rice or close to finished by the time you get here.”

“I can get here earlier you know.”

“It’s your first real day, sleep in a little bit. We’ll start regular hours next week.” She hums but gets in her car, he holds the door open for her and leans down. His hands resting on top for support as he bends down. “You moved from the city, it’ll take you a bit to get used to all this.”

“Okay, see you tomorrow?”

“See you tomorrow.” He stands up and closes her car door, she doesn’t see him start back inside until she gets out of the driveway and back down the hill. In the short ride back to her own home she can’t get the white haired farmer out of her mind. How warm his hand has felt on her back— a level of comfort she has not felt in years.

She’s hit with the fact that she left everything behind when she clicks open the lock of her home. This is real, she forgot all about her friends, all of the people she loved. Her hands hesitate as she touches the cold doorknob. Should she care more…? Those people were once her whole life, the happiness she felt in the world. An argument could be had for him as well if that was the case, he was once her happiness. He had taken it and tied it around her like a noose, making her choke on the love she once cherished.

All thoughts disappear when her foot goes over the threshold, like fanning away at bits of dust and watching them dissipate. She shouldn’t think like that, Atsumu was no longer a part of her life. Hadn’t been for almost a year, they may have only been broken up for four months ago but he had left the relationship far earlier.

She needs to unpack her boxes, she can feel them collecting dust even as they haven’t sat for very long. Her heart beats faster as her feet won’t move from the doorway, like they’re glued to the wooden panels, she slides down the door and sits on the ground. Her lungs feel like they’re closing in and her throat grows scratchy as her eyes sting. There must be something wrong with her, she went from happy to thinking about her boxes. She can’t seriously be crying over boxes can she? “That’s pathetic, even for you.”

There’s a buzz from her phone at that moment that stirs her from her thoughts. She can see the preview, see that it’s from Kita but she can’t find the energy to respond. She focuses on the words he says, anything to make her forget about the boxes that sit in the hall. Anything to stop her train of thought from continuing down the path it was starting to.

– You did well today, thank you for being such a big help with the jam and harvesting. For Friday – If you are still wanting to go with me – I will need your address so I can pick you up. I like to arrive around 12, I would like to pick you up around 11 as it takes a little longer to get to the market and find parking. See you tomorrow at 6, thank you again for helping. - Kita

The words soothe her in a way she can’t explain. She wipes the tears away from her eyes and takes a deep breath. The boxes can wait, it’s not a life or death situation that needs to be resolved right away. It’s a task that she can wait to do. She’s probably just hungry, she tries to reason with herself. That’s the only reason for her outburst, just hunger and anxiety about being so far from what was once her home. One of the first things her eyes go to when she opens her fridge is a pink-y red fruit. A pomegranate.

She reaches for the fruit, not one she usually eats, and sets out a towel on a cutting board as she pulls a knife from the rack and sets the fruit down on the towel. With a decisive cut she splits the fruit in half and watches as it leaks red, sticky juice onto the fabric of her towel. With another cut she hears the small cracks of protest from the fruit before it’s split into fourths on her cutting board. In some sick twisted way this is helping her feel better but causing new trains of thought to fester in her mind. People think pomegranates are beautiful and love them despite the mess they make. How their nails get stained with red after getting to the seeds inside, how the juice sticks to them and stains their lips a deeper hue. Despite the mess, pomegranates are loved.

“You’re impossible to love,” she thinks of that moment again. It feels like it should be tattooed on her. She’s impossible to love. She asks for too much and gives too little. Is her mess one people can’t clean up? She wants to stain somebody's lips with her love, wants it to be in their skin like it’s in hers. And maybe that’s the problem. Her love is messy, impossible, people don’t want love that stains them. That lingers on their lips and hands. She wants someone to love her despite the mess she makes and still think of her as beautiful.

As she takes the fruit out of the shell she wonders if anyone will treat her this carefully, if they’ll peel back the layers of her defenses to see what’s inside. Get to the root of her, if they would peel away the seeds of doubt. Gently let their fingers trace her skin and stain her as much as she stains them. Pick out the parts of her that hurt, see the bruises of her character and kiss over them with love and understanding. Take care in taking apart the things that cause others to give up, to love her despite the bruises or imperfections of her outer shell.

As she eats the fruit she welcomes how it stains her skin, how it colors her lips and mouth. She welcomes the mess it creates and enjoys it still with her being. Someone will love her and the mess she makes, will take care in cleaning up the cuts and wounds that have appeared on her heart. Will wash away the stains of pain that have colored her skin. She washes the cutting board, and is careful to get as much of the stain out of the wood as possible. The knife is much easier to clean, as it usually is. The tool to break things is much easier to clean than the stains of the act, the tool is a simple swipe clean and is back to normal. She knows the rag and cutting board will never be the same, no matter how much she scrubs and washes them. They will be forever stained with the juice of her snack. The peel winds up in her compost bin, and the bowl housing the rest of the seeds is covered and placed back in the fridge.

Her nails will be stained for the next few days, a rose color, and she’ll feel the remnants on her teeth for weeks. Her body will remember what her words will not. What her eyes and mind will forget as new information washes over them. As she slips into bed for the night she thinks of a blonde who broke her heart and of a farmer who despite not knowing her was as gentle with her as a piece of glass. He didn’t treat her as breakable but in the little acts he did for her in the one day they had, he showed more care than she had grown accustomed to. Had dodged past her thorns and held the stem to guide and prune. He had been kind, in a world where so very few people were anymore.

She followed his instructions and took a blanket outside, a time when she really should not have been awake, and laid down on the grass of her backyard and gazed at the stars. She had heard some people didn’t like how insignificant they felt looking at stars but they comforted her in ways she’s not sure she will ever be able to explain with words. The thought that there are other people out there going through what she is going through made her feel less…less angry. The anger had continued to fester under the surface from the days prior, she’s not sure how the stars managed to soothe her, get rid of the boiling deep in her soul and replace it with gentle waves. She should thank Kita, she has the thought as she drinks water from her cup and she lays back down to look at the stars. Maybe she was a star in someone else’s universe, or maybe she could become the star of her own universe. That didn’t sound half bad. Live for herself, not others.

The remainder of the week was peaceful, no more nonsensical meltdowns, or thoughts that spun like a top out of control. She arrived half an hour earlier than Kita told her to each day; every day they ate breakfast together. She would see him about to walk out the door before hearing her car roll over the gravel of the driveway and watch as he stood in the doorway. Despite the shake of his head there was a barely concealed smile on his lips, and she would feel a matching one grow on her own face. “I told you to come at six,” was his reply every morning.

“If I came at six we wouldn’t be able to have breakfast like we are now.” She would say as she sat down in the wooden chairs of his dining room. She was beginning to grow accustomed to the way the home felt. It felt warm, comfortable. There wasn’t hate in the walls that made the house grow small, there was love and you could tell in everything inside the home. Pictures lined the muted brown walls of the living room when you entered the home. There was a brick fireplace right in the middle; spot free of leftover ash from cold winter nights. They would talk about everything and nothing while Kita made breakfast for them, insistent as he was that he did all the work. Somehow she would always help with the sides of the day like biscuits or hashbrowns.

When Friday morning finally comes she sleeps in later than she has all week. She shoots up from her bed with a gasp when she realizes what time it is. As she is about to get out of the warm quilted comfort of her bed she remembers that they’re only going to the farmer’s market today. The day off every two weeks they both take. She sleeps for another two hours and stares at the ceiling for fifteen minutes before she tumbles out of her bed. Her leg gets stuck in the blankets and she falls to her knees on the hardwood flooring of her home. She rubs her knees as she rests her back against the frame of her bed before standing up with a pop as she stretches and picks out an outfit for the day.

The hot heat of June causes her to choose a pair of shorts and a patterned t-shirt. The fabric is lightweight and comfortable. She opts to skip on makeup, she won’t be inside for the makeup to stop from melting off her face. She does however put on sunscreen, a protection from the harsh UV rays she’ll be in for at least a few hours. She’s grabbing her purse as Kita rings the doorbell. A smile appears on her face as she opens the door. Her eyes scan over him and her mouth drops open a bit at how nice he looks. Although the shirt is supposed to be loose it clings to his arms and chest before growing looser the further down it goes. His jeans look new and are cuffed so you can see the freshly cleaned boots he wears. The threading has faded with age, and dirt has found a permanent residence in the crevices of the footwear but it’s clear an effort was made to clean up if his brushed to the side hair has anything to say about it.

She can’t help it as her hand reaches up and messes up the parting, roughing it up so it looks more closely to how it typically does. “You look nice today,” there’s a gentle lilt to her voice. It raises towards the end of the sentence and a gentle smile makes a home on her face.

“You look nice too,” his cheeks are slightly reddened as he hovers his hand over the small of her back on the way to the car. A hand reaches around and opens her door for her and he feels his chest flutter at the smile that takes hold of her face. “It’s a little dusty, sorry I didn’t warn you earlier but considering what we do for work I didn’t think you would mind too much.” His hand rubs at the back of his neck.

“That’s fine, I kind of assumed it might be.” She gives him a thumbs up and he closes the door before walking around to the otherside of his truck. “What kind of CDs do you have in here?” She pops open the glove box and is greeted with various Garth Brooks, Johnny Cash, Dylan Gosset, Noah Kahan CDs, an extra pair of work gloves, and a singular copy of a Cigarettes After Sex album. “Hmm, not what I expected but I’m not disappointed at least,” she says as she lifts up the CD.

“Well, I’m glad you’re not disappointed,” he chuckles and pulls out of her driveway and down the road towards the market. The ride to the market is filled with small talk. Mostly from Kita’s part, he feels like he wants to know everything about her. It’s a craving, to know her on a deeper level; one not so professional. When they get out of the car a layer of dust covers his boots and he curses mentally at the action.

“Where to first?” He hates how cute he’s already finding her mannerisms, how she sways side to side when she asks the question. How her hold on her bag tightens slightly and she leans closer to him. His hand finds its normal spot hovering over the small of her back and the next words out of her mouth make him feel like he short circuits. “You can put your hand on my back, you know, I don’t mind.” Her own hand reaches back and moves his hand so it’s pressing against her.

Her back grows warmer from the weight of his hand that’s now pressed against it, Kita takes an exhale and relaxes. There wasn’t a need to be worried if she was okay, he was thinking too much into things. It was a simple friendly gesture, there to make sure she didn’t fall. “If we go in here,” he points towards the right of the outlet, “then we’ll be closer to the sweets.” He leans closer as he explains it to her, their faces almost touching.

Her breath hitches lightly at the proximity before she clears her throat and shifts slightly. “Then we should start at the other end, that way if we get sweets that melt they’ll be in a better state when we get back.” She begins to turn her head but when her cheek brushes against his she jerks away slightly.

“I like the way you think,” she feels as the pressure from his firm hand on her back eases. As it presses just barely against her shirt instead of pressed flat against her back where she can feel the warmth of his hand. The warmth is barely a whisper now. A phantom warmth takes its place as goosebumps rise in a trail on her skin. “Let’s get to it while we still have daylight,” his hand touches her back for a second to urge her forward. Not in a demanding way, it rests against the fabric of her shirt and she almost wishes it was against her skin instead.

She clears her throat again and steps forward, her teeth worry her lip as she tries not to think about his hand again. They walk side by side into the small marketplace, not one has said a word since they began moving. She’s not sure yet if it’s comfortable silence or the stuffy kind that contorts around you and forces its way into spaces between noise. That plugs your ears and makes you clear your throat more often than necessary, words getting caught before they can make their way out.

“Do you want a drink?” The bubble pops. The small smile Kita offers her a light making its way through the fog of silence.

“So forward,” she jokes and looks around at the stalls to see what he could be talking about. He shakes his head and no matter how faint the touch she feels his hand move down her back and his fingertips brush against her arm before linking gently with hers. She can’t help the shiver that races down her spine or the heat that fills her face.

“Non-alcoholic beverages, they have good iced cider. We can go out on a different weekend for drinks.” He says it so calmly, like a usual occurrence for him. Maybe it is, all she can think about is the weight of his hand in hers and how nice it feels. How warm it is. She’s not sure how she’s able to stand it in the June heat, it crawls up her neck and makes her feel like her blood is boiling just beneath the surface.

“Iced cider sounds so good right now,” she’s aware of her mess. How it spills around the edges, Kita seems to step around the areas that puddle and sink into the ground. As he gently moves with her to the shop she’s aware of words ringing in her ears but it feels like too much. They don’t quite reach her mind, don’t form sentences. Would he lift under her surface and dissect her mess? Would he place down a towel and not mind scrubbing the red from the fibers.

Would the secrets leave her as easily as the seeds do when he takes care in unfolding her. In laying her down and making precise decisions on where to hold. Would he hold her gently? Cradle her against his chest, hold her like she’s precious, hold her like she’s lovable. Would he love— “—are you okay?” She feels a squeeze on her arm and feels the cool and rough texture of brick on her back.

“What?” It’s only now does she realize her breathing is strained and her heart feels like it’s hammering in her chest.

“Can I put my hand here?” He asks as he hovers a hand over her chest. When she nods she feels the steady pressure and he places one hand on his own chest. “Breathe with me.” She watches his chest rise and fall deeply a few times before following along with him. Slowly they slide to the ground and her head falls towards his shoulder.

Neither say anything as people pass by, hoping they aren’t seen. Kita adjusts his body, covering her from the view of pedestrians taking a quick glance. She puts her hand over his own on her chest and her head slowly raises from his shoulder. There’s a frown tugging at his lips and despite his efforts to keep his face neutral she can see the concern swirling in his eyes.

“I’m—“

“Please don’t say you’re sorry. It’s okay to feel things, we can sit here as long as you need to. It’s a nice shade from the sun,” he tries to move his hand away but she holds it tighter against her as her eyes squeeze shut. Read between the lines. Don’t make me say it. “I used to have pretty bad panic attacks when I was in high school.” Him? He seems so collected.

He turns his hand over and holds hers again. The concrete of the market makes cracks as his shoes scrape against it and their sides lean against the brick. “Routine is what keeps me from falling off, from cracking. It’s not everything though, anxiety still happens. I have days where I feel off: days where no matter how hard I try I just can’t do anything, and the little voice in my brain tells me how dumb it is that I can’t do something I do all the time. You’re allowed to feel things, and don’t feel the need to explain yourself to me. I understand that we can’t always know why we feel a certain way.”

“It’s my ex.” He nods but doesn’t push or ask for more information, just gently squeezes her hand. “He…he said some things that messed me up.” She watches as his brows furrow slightly before trying to return to a normal position. “Made…made me feel like a mess.”

He opens his mouth like he’s going to say something before licking his lips and closing his mouth again. Her head tilts as she tries to analyze his face, the hills and crevices, the smile lines by his mouth, the way his nose curves slightly to the left. “You’re not a mess, things can feel like one though. I know my words won’t solve your problems but…if you’d like I can help you with them.”

“You don’t make me feel like a mess.” Her words feel worth it when she sees the dimple on his right cheek appear as a smile crosses his face. “You don’t have to help me, I can work through this on my own.”

“But you don’t have to. I won’t push you, but it’s okay to ask for help.” He sees her twitch and start to slowly rise from the ground. He follows suit and when her hands loosen from his he lets go and allows his hands to drop to his sides. The pebbles scatter to the ground as they wipe off their pants. “We can leave if you would rather I drive you home.” It’s a way out, she doesn’t have to be here. Doesn’t have to dress fancy and pose pretty for cameras or important people. She can leave, they will leave when she wants to.

“Let’s go get some of that cider you were talking about. I think I could use some of it.” She smiles at him and while the weight on her shoulders still forces her to bend down it’s a little lighter than it was moments ago. He accepted her mess and cleaned the red stains from the towel. He didn’t step around the mess or cause her to bleed more, he gently held her and allowed her to peel her own layers away. To open on her own.

Her hand reaches over, he jolts slightly before offering his palm to her. Their hands link together, little care for the heat of the sun blazing down on them before the relief of cool air hits them inside one of the shops. There are very few words said for the rest of their time spent at the market, only small comments about the products up for sale; neither mention her panic attack from earlier and for that she is grateful.

“This was nice, thank you Kita.” He nods as he helps her back into the truck and closes the door behind her. He hops in on his own side and starts the car. She opens the glovebox again and puts in a CD, she puts in the first one she grabs as she didn’t bother to look. It closes with a click and she turns back to face Kita.

“You can call me Shinsuke,” the last part is muffled as his hand covers his mouth. She can tell that he is clearly avoiding eye contact. “It’s only fair since I call you Y/N.” Her hand reaches over the console and taps his arm lightly, he glances at her for a moment before dropping his hand, she laces their fingers together again.

“Okay, Shinsuke.” The name feels foreign on her lips but there’s an ever growing smile creeping onto her face at the sound of it. Shinsuke, she likes it. From the corner of her eye she can see his dimple appear on his cheek. Her chest grows warm and she turns her head to watch the rolling hills as they drive back to the farm. At some point her eyes must have closed because the next time that she opens them her head is rested against Kita’s chest and his arm is under her legs as he carries her to her door. “Hmmm?”

“Is your house key in your pocket?” She takes a few moments to process the words before nodding as she tries to get closer to him. He unlocks the door and carries her through with ease, she can hear him take a breath like he’s about to ask something but the words never come. She hears the small creaks of the floorboards as he passes over them, the clank of her keys falling into the ceramic bowl by the door. She hears the click of a door and the way the hinges squeak as it’s pushed open. Feels the comfort of her blankets and pillows as she’s tucked in.

“Shinsuke,” she hears how his breath hitches at the sleepy call of his name.

“Y/N,” the bed dips from the weight of him sitting on the very edge of it, his hand rests next to him and her eyes open slowly. She almost brings her hand out to hold his again but drowsiness takes hold of her and she struggles to keep her eyes open. She’s aware of the breathy chuckle that leaves Kita’s mouth and how he shifts closer to her. She could bask in this warmth the whole night.

“Thank you for today,” her eyes flutter closed again and a soft breath escapes her lips as she feels a soft warmness on her forehead. She feels the warmth of Kita’s breath on her skin before a small chill takes its place as he sits back up. “I had a lot of fun.” She pulls the blankets closer to her to make up for the chill.

“Thank you for coming with me, I’ll take you anytime.” He rises from the bed and his boots clank lightly against the wooden panels of her bedroom floor. They pause briefly as he takes in a sharp inhale of breath. “And for the record…I don’t think you’re a mess. Good night Y/N,” the words don’t register until she hears the hum of a car and the rocks crunching under the tires as it pulls away and she’s left with the white noise of her room.

The words are all she can think about for the rest of the week. All she can think about when they’re sticking jams and jellies onto shelves of their stall, when his hand brushes hers when getting cash from the drawer. I don’t think you’re a mess. That one sentence whispered like a prayer when she wasn’t even awake enough to respond. The words feel like they still hang in her room, dangling from her door like lights and casting a glow on her every time she enters.

A light touch on her back brings her to the present, her head whipping to face Kita whose expression is laced with concern, his brows are furrowed and his teeth are worrying a spot on his lip. “Are you okay?” The words are whispered as he leans closer and she swears she can feel his breath dancing on her ear. She nods but refuses to open her mouth, the words will surely jumble the minute they are released from their confinement. She sticks to her practiced script, one she’s gotten used to over the weeks Kita has taken her to the farmer’s market and allowed her to work the counter on days he opens the shop.

She’s not sure when the touches stopped hesitating and their gazes started lingering on each other. When whole sentences were paused in favor of tracing the structure of the other’s face. They never speak of it, how they grow closer to each other before snapping back to reality and acting like nothing ever happened. When the older women who visit to buy jams and breads ask if they’re a couple, wonder how long they’ve been together. She always shrugs it off with a laugh and tells them their total, how she’s not ready for a relationship. She sees Kita’s expression falter in these moments but can’t bring herself to think of why. She can’t imagine a world where someone like Kita loves her, where anyone loves her.

When the September chill hits the air she’s grown used to Kita leaving her to attend the shop once a month, the responsibility reminds her of how far she’s come. Twice a month, he’ll haul bags of rice into the bed of his truck and she’ll watch him clamber inside of the vehicle and hear the crunching of the rocks as he drives away down the hill. Part of her thinks Kita doesn’t take her on these trips into the city because of words spilled over in states of panic. The only other day Kita makes deliveries he gives her the day off. An “appreciation for her hard work” as he called it. A weird sense of protection to stop her from spilling over again. In a way she appreciates it, it’s been 8 months since her relationship with Atsumu ended, maybe it’s time to try and brave the city. See his face on billboards and magazines, maybe she can do it as long as Kita is there.

She enjoys her time in her home all the same. It’s come a long way since she first moved in, there’s a new coat of paint on the walls of her home, and new light switch covers. Pictures hanging up from her time in high school, it’s weird to think about. How she never tried to get in contact with those people again, the ones that were so important to her once. Her favorite part however had been her crafts room. Where paintings littered the walls and paper was scattered on the floor, where bins of ribbon sat neatly stacked but messily put away. It was something she never had energy for before she moved, the quiet simplicities of having time on her hands. She almost wants to thank Atsumu for being such an asshole, if he had been perfect she never would have gotten the chance to live how she does now. She shakes her head as the thought passes, there’s no point in thinking of ‘what ifs’ it only hurts more.

When he returns she’s counting the drawer, she pauses when she hears the creak of the door as it opens. She looks up for a moment to give him a smile, he gives her a nod in return. He makes his way around the counter, flipping the wooden flap up and placing it gently on the table as he slides an envelope towards her. She finishes counting the cash from the drawer and places it into the envelope, she adds the total from the drawer below the total already written on the paper. “Hey Shinsuke?” he hums in response and turns to face her. He leans against the back counter and crosses his arms. “Can I go with you next time you go out for deliveries?” There’s silence for a few moments, like he’s carefully calculating his next words.

“I don’t have a problem with it. Missing the city?” He smiles slightly, a teasing glint in his eyes.

“No,” she shakes her head. “Just the thing with my ex, I think I’m finally ready to go back to where it ended. The next step in healing,” the words feel freeing as she says them. She hasn’t talked about it with anyone except for the few brief moments where Kita had to calm her down.

“Did he mess you up that bad?” He pushes off the counter and rests a hand on her shoulder.

“Compared to some horror stories I’ve seen it’s nothing, I’m probably just being dramatic.” She sighs and looks away, her shoulders slump and his hand falls off her shoulder. There’s a small frown on his face as he moves his hand to cradle her cheek, his thumb rubs gently against her cheek and he rests his forehead against hers.

“It’s not nothing if it hurts you. Sometimes what we perceive as the smallest things actually affect us the most. The smallest breeze sometimes knocks over the biggest tree.” That gets a small laugh out of her although her hand reaches up quickly to cover her mouth. “There’s that smile,” she makes a point of forcing a frown on her face. Whenever Kita is with her it feels like she’s safe, she grows warm and the walls she carefully built start to crumble. “How about we finally go get that drink?” His voice lilts up towards the end of his question, it’s amazing how a few short months away will completely change a person. He lifts his head from hers, hand still gently holding her face.

“I think I would like that.” They silently help each other clean up the rest of the shop and Kita closes the door behind them. With a click the door locks and they make their way to his truck. “Should either of us be driving?”

“I said a drink, not drunk.” He lets out a small laugh and turns on the car. She’s grown familiar with the hills and valleys that make up the country side, finds comfort in their gentle rolls. She rolls her eyes and places her chin in the palm of her hand as her elbow rests on the window. She watches as the hills roll, the birds fly, and the sun begins to lower itself over the hills. The day is ending, it’s ending and she finds herself starting to feel okay about it because tomorrow the sun will rise again and the day will start anew. She will still be okay tomorrow. Soon she won’t have to say she’ll be okay, she’ll just be okay. It won’t be much of a challenge with Kita around, the comfort he brings her is already unmatched.

When they make it to the bar it’s not overly packed, there are a few patrons lining the counter and a few sitting at tables spread out across the room. The music is playing a little louder than it maybe should be but it’s not overly annoying. Kita’s hand rests against her back as he leads her to a table, the warmth of his hand is a comfort she’s grown used to over the months that she’s known him. If it weren’t for him she wouldn’t be as happy as she is now, a smile unknowingly creeps onto her face. Kita’s hand holds hers as she sits down in the booth and slides to sit in the middle of the cushioned seat. He chooses to sit across from her, arms folded on the table and fingers lightly tap tap tapping the smooth vinyl surface of the table.

She reaches for a menu at the end of the table, near the condiments, and starts flipping open the pages. She lays it flat on the table as her eyes scan the words and prices. “Come here often?” It’s meant as a genuine question but sounds more like a bad pick-up line. She cringes lightly at herself when his eyes flicker over to her and a teasing smile appears on his face.

“Why do you want to know? Hoping to see me more?” He lifts one arm from the table and rests his head in the palm of his hand as he turns his head to look away from her. Before she gets a chance to respond the waiter comes over to their table and takes his book from his apron. He clears his throat before asking about drinks. “I’ll have a whiskey sour.” Both of them turn their heads to Y/N as she lifts her head from looking at the menu.

“Morgan and sprite please.” He nods his head and goes over to the bar to put their orders in. She turns her head back to Kita. “Whiskey huh?”

“My drink of choice, this is gonna sound so funny.” He covers his face with his hands as a laugh escapes his lips. “My grandma was a big whiskey drinker so now I guess it rubbed off on me.” He peeks through his fingers at her and she can see the smile sneaking out from where his hands don’t quite meet in the middle.

“That is funny, but sweet in a way?” Their waiter sets their drinks down and questions them about food. They order skewers, there’s a breath of silence as he walks away. Kita plucks the chery from his drink and she doesn’t think much of it, her gaze traveling down to his lips before jolting back up to his eyes. Not what she should be thinking about, this is just a friendly drink. A drink after work with friends, don’t think about how soft his lips look or how– “So, how was delivering today?” She can only hope he didn’t notice where she was looking, or at least not mention where she was looking out of politeness.

He chews on the steam lightly as he comes up with an answer, “same old, same old. Nothing too exciting but it is nice to catch up with a few people.” She’s about to respond when she notices the stem disappears into his mouth and she’s thinking about it again. His lips look so soft, what would it be like to kiss them? She blinks herself out of her trance when she notices Kita looking at her. He sticks his tongue out a little bit and she sees the tied cherry stem sitting in the center. She blinks a few more times and turns her head to look out the window of their booth.

“What?” He asks calmly and plucks the stem from his mouth to set it gently on a napkin and take a sip of his drink. “Your drink will get warm if you don’t drink it anytime soon,” he teases as he sets his back down. She tentatively picks up her glass and takes a sip before also setting hers back on the napkin. There’s movement from one of his hands as his fingers run along the edges of the glass. She notices his own eyes shifting down, is he looking at her lips? She can’t do this, it’s too much. No, she’s worked hard for this. She takes a deep breath and tries not to think too hard about how he’s looking at her, like he wants to kiss her. She doesn’t have to think about it for too long as their food gets delivered. The plate is placed in the middle of the table and the two of them share the skewers. His tongue flicks out to lick over the expanse of his lips and she passes it off as being for the food. Their waiter sets the check down on the table and walks away with a nod.

Quiet conversation passes between them as they eat their food and nurse their drinks. Slow drinks and even slower bites taken to draw their time out together even more. “So..wait,” she manages to squeeze between laughs. “He tried to play even though he was sick, and he hit his head with the ball trying to serve because he sneezed?” She covers her mouth with her hand as she laughs at the story Kita was telling her.

“Yes, he was very irresponsible, still is if his brother has anything to say about it.” He splits the last skewer with her, it’s not as warm as it was a few moments ago. “I had to force him to go home, oh my. Atsumu was so upset about it. Whined the whole way to the locker room to change.” She can feel her stomach drop at the mention of his name. She really should be more over it than she is. Eight months over and she still recoils at the slightest mention of his name. He has managed to infiltrate even the place she thought of herself as the safest from his influence. Kita…knew him, knows him. What would he say if he knew that Atsumu was her ex, would she lose her newfound home? “Are you okay?” His voice is quiet as he reaches his hand across the table, a silent invitation. She can see his face fall when she shakes her head and refuses his hand. He leaves it there even after her refusal, just in case.

“I..” She starts but hesitates. The words get stuck in her throat, they cling to the walls and hold on stubbornly. Her mouth opens and closes as she tries to force them to come out. She looks back down at his hand and she closes her eyes as she sets her hand in his. She feels a light squeeze on her hand and she wants to open her eyes to look at him. To memorize his face in case this all goes tumbling down, but she can’t bring herself to muster the strength of opening her eyes. With another squeeze of her hand she manages to open her eyes and lift her head to face Kita. “I don’t know how to explain it without pushing you away.”

“Pushing me away? What do you mean?” He sounds concerned but doesn’t look away from her, eyes scanning her face trying to uncover the secrets. For once, she doesn’t think she wants him to carefully peel back her walls and see what’s happening beyond the surface. She wants to stay blissfully ignorant of what he believes, of what he’ll think of her.

“This sounds much more dramatic than I wanted it to be,” she sighs and brings hand up to her forehead as she shakes her head. “Are you still friends with…him?”

“Who?”

“Atsumu.” It’s the first time she’s said his name in months but it still burns like acid against her lips. Her mouth curls around the familiar name with disgust as her nose crinkles slightly. She hopes she never has to say Kita’s name in the same regard she says Atsumu’s, never has to have it laced with sadness and doubt. Unsure of herself and the world around her.

“Yes, is that what this is about? Do you know him?” She can feel her throat tighten a little and she looks down at their hands, he’s not accusing her. His thumb is rubbing gentle circles on the back of her hand, this shouldn’t be as big a deal as she’s making it. So what if he’s friends with her ex? Her ex she broke up with 8 months ago, she should be over it. It shouldn’t– “Hey, Y/N? I don’t care one way or another if you know him or not, I care more about if you’re okay.” His voice is soft but genuine as he speaks, she feels another gentle squeeze of her hand as he continues to hold it. Hold her. Kita does what he has done for the past four months, keep her steady and not let her run away.

“I do know him.” The start of an admission. She feels guilty, she shouldn’t feel guilty but the thought of him still makes her uneasy. “He was my ex,” she takes a deep breath. She can feel the pause from Kita but doesn’t feel him pull away, instead his hand grips hers tighter and she can hear the sharp intake of breath like he’s about to say something. “You don’t have to say anything, I know he’s your friend. It’s really not that big of a deal, I should really be over it by now. It’s been what, I don’t know eight months, I really should be over it. I mean, I am over it. I am.”

“It’s okay to not be over it you know? You don’t have to convince anyone, most of all yourself, that you need to be over him. Just take things slowly.”

“But I should be over it. I don’t know why I’m still so caught up over it, I’m the one who left him.” She reaches for her now empty glass in the hopes that maybe it refilled itself between when she first got it and now. It hasn’t.

“Just because you’re the one who left doesn’t mean it didn’t affect you as much as if he was the one who left.” His thumb is rubbing circles on her hand again. A poor attempt at soothing her because it just makes her think about how he knows Atsumu, he knows him and is friends with him. She might’ve just ruined their friendship. She’s ruining everything again. “You’re allowed to grieve things, even if you never had them. From what you’ve told me you haven’t had time to actually feel the end of the relationship. You immediately tried to fix everything and get as far away from it as you felt you could. Excuse me for being…brash, but we’ve been friends for a little bit and I want to see you finally feel good about yourself again.”

“How do we do that?”

“First, let’s get you home. We can go to my house if you want. I can make you a snack and you don’t have to worry about going anywhere.”

“That actually…sounds kinda nice.” He lets go of her hand and she shivers from how cold her hand feels now. She gets up from the table and relaxes when she feels his hand on her back again. Kita is a relaxing presence she hadn’t expected herself to get used to as quickly as she has. There’s times when she’s in the comfort of her home but it feels slightly off when she walks around and doesn’t feel the pressure of a hand on her back or see tufts of white hair peeking around a corner. She likes the constant that is Kita, he does the same thing day in and day out. He has a set schedule, he doesn’t falter from the image of him that she has in her mind. He’s expected. He helps her into his truck again, the beverage he had having long worn off.

The drive back to his home feels shorter than the drive to the bar, maybe it’s his hand holding hers or the gentle hum of the truck but she feels more relaxed than she did earlier. She’s grown familiar with the scenery when they get closer to the farm, the gentle hills and the roads becoming a bit harsher the further out they get from the city. “Wait here,” his voice rolls out above the hum of the engine before it’s turned off. Her hands play with the rough material of the seatbelt before she hears the click of the car door opening. His hands reach over and unbuckle her seatbelt and he holds out a hand to her, tentatively she takes it and accepts the help as she gets out of the truck. His arms wrap around her when her feet reach the ground, her arms hesitate for a moment before wrapping around him. “Thank you.”

“Why are you thanking me?”

“For sharing even though you were scared,” she’s not sure why the statement makes tears well in her eyes but he must see them because he hugs her tighter. “I’m so sorry he made you feel like that, I’m glad you still feel comfortable with me.”

“I’m not sure you could make me feel uncomfortable, Shinsuke.” She can feel his shoulders relax and when she starts to pull away so does he. His hand finds her again as they walk inside. She looks around before sitting on his couch, his grey throw pillows fitting nicely with the warm grey of the couch. Her eyes follow him as he makes his way towards the kitchen, there’s a small island that separates the living room and the kitchen, she sees him open the fridge and the red fruit is familiar to her. She watches him grab a knife from the holder. Is he making her pomegranate?

She moves from the couch to sit at the island. Get a closer look at what’s going on, how his hands carefully hold the fruit, cradle it, and how his knife gently cuts the top off and peels it back carefully from the seeds inside. His hands don’t get covered in the juices, how each move is precise as he cuts down the sides and opens it up like a flower. Without a mess the seeds fall out of their casing and into a bowl, with a small smile he looks up at her before washing the seeds off in the sink and pushing the bowl over to her as he throws away the peel and washes his hands.

“You didn’t make a mess.”

“The pomegranate was ripe. You only get a mess when you force it to open before it's ripe.” He says it so simply as he leans against the counter on the opposite side of her. “Do you like to paint?”

“I’ve only done it a few times.” He nods and she pushes the bowl back over to him, he packages them up and puts it back in the fridge. “Do you paint?”

“Not a lot, if I need to take my mind off something and I’ve already completed the farm work for the day then I will.”

“You can talk to me, I talk to you about my problems enough.”

“I’ll talk to you next time.” He walks around the island and over to her, he gently grabs her hand and they head back over to the couch. His arm is wrapped around her shoulder and she moves so her head is on his chest. She’s not aware of falling asleep, unsure of if Kita also fell asleep until she feels the gentle breaths underneath her head. She knows it’s early in the morning, can feel the sun just grazing her arm. The prickle of the day hitting her eyes, there’s a blanket over them that wasn’t there before. Her arm reaches up and lightly grazes over Kita’s face, her fingertips barely tapping his skin. There’s a coldness to his face that she wasn’t prepared for as she brings her hand away, she wonders if her face is just as cold. Her hand touches her nose and she shakes her head when she feels the chill from being exposed to the air.

She’s not surprised to see his eyelashes flutter against his cheek a few minutes after she wakes up. She knows it’s later than he usually gets up, knows it’s partly her fault that he’s getting a late start to his day. “Good morning,” his voice is deep and it’s soft as it’s whispered out delicately from his lips. He closes his eyes again for a moment before they open halfway, his arm resting on the top half of the couch and his head is using his hand as a rest. “Did you sleep okay?” His other hand rubs up and down her arm gently, she can’t help but lean closer to him and the warmth he provides.

“Better than I have in a while,” she says mid yawn and stretches. Her shirt lifts up slightly at the bottom and she notices his eyes flicker for just a moment before returning to lock with hers. She moves her head to rest against the couch, it strains her eyes a little to look at him in the light and figures he can’t be doing much better. “We should get up.”

“We should,” he agrees but doesn’t make a motion to move from the couch. He lifts his head and drops his hand to move a stray piece of hair from her face. “I never get up this late, I must have been out.” He gives her a small smile and she can see his eyes flicker down to her mouth for a moment before returning, she blames it on the movement of her smile drawing his eyes.

“Must have,” her smile grows into a grin when he cups her cheek and his thumb makes small circles on the surface. The static whir of the ceiling fan fills the quiet moments, doesn’t let the silence really feel silent. She can hear his breath hitching when she leans close to him and swears she can feel his heart beat faster when she turns her head and presses a paper light kiss against his palm. The motions stop and but the world doesn’t feel like it’s come crashing down, she can feel the motions of his chest moving before she hears the laughter fly from his mouth. “What? What’s funny?” Despite herself, the feeling of doubt doesn’t come. She can only feel the warmth of the sun and the warmth of him.

“That tickled.”

“You’re ticklish?” She smiles and sits up, he can see where it’s going and tries to block her attacks to no avail. He breaks out in a fit of giggles, his back ends up against the cushions of the couch and she straddles his hips and enjoys the laughter that ensues from her onslaught.

“Please, mercy…” he says breathlessly and she smiles and stops her attack. His chest heaves up and down quickly as he tries to catch his breath, he puts his weight on his elbows to sit up and it’s only then that she realizes how close their faces are. She can feel his breath on her skin as their smiles slowly drop from their faces. Their noses bump each other but she finds she doesn’t mind the sensation of his skin on hers. His hands rest lightly on her hips and she can almost feel his lips brushing against hers. “…sorry,” he says breathlessly as he pulls away from her and oh how she wishes he would have closed the distance instead of lengthening it.

Would his lips taste like strawberries, like the chapstick he uses that she got for him as a birthday gift. Would they taste of honey; of a nectar so sweet she couldn’t even comprehend the taste. She moves to tuck a piece of hair that fell from behind her ear but Kita’s hand is already gently brushing the hair away from her face. She can feel goosebumps rise on her body and she wants to grab him by the neck and close the distance herself. She needs to know what his lips taste like, if they’re as soft as they look. If they’ll lock with hers like a puzzle piece.

She shifts to move off of him but a soft grip of her waist stops her before she can get too far. “We should really work, we’ve spent a lot of time dilly dallying.”

“Can we stay like this…just a little longer?” And she finds herself agreeing. He looks at her in a way that makes her believe she hung the stars in the sky just for him. Maybe, if she had more power the stars in the sky would be hung for him.

“Okay.”

The honey slides its way slowly to the bottom of the jar. Only a few more. “So what do you typically do in the winter?”

“I take care of the garden in my greenhouse, sell some of the goods from it,” he smiles at her and puts his hand on her back to move past her; he reaches into the cabinet to grab a few more lids.

“No off season for you?”

“I like my routine.”

“It seems like you’ve been straying further and further from it since you met me,” she smiles at him and he can’t help but let out a small laugh and agree with her first.

“Get back to pouring the honey, try not to spill anymore on your hand,” he teases and his eyes flicker to her hand before he moves past her again and she looks down. She sets down the container of honey and goes to the sink to wash it off, his soap smells of chamomile and lily, after a quick rinse she grabs a towel and cleans the outside of the jar.

“It’s not my fault, you distracted me.” She rolls her eyes and kicks his foot lightly with her own. He turns his head to look at her and shakes his head. “What? Don’t you have honey to be pouring?”

She finishes screwing on the last lid and places the neatly labeled jar with the others in a wooden crate. “It’s a little crazy to me that it’s almost the end of the year,” she quickly glances over at him as he lifts the crate. She can see his arms fighting against the long sleeves of his sweater, he turns to her as he picks it off the table. “I would never have seen myself here in a year. If you asked me last year well, she would’ve thought…” there’s a moment of pause and they both know who she was going to bring up. “Thank you Kita,” she wipes her hands nervously on her apron; he had gotten her one of her own to have around the house. It’s a light grey and has a small embroidered flower pattern along the bottom, it hangs up next to his apron and she notices how domestic it all seems.

“Shinsuke.”

“What?”

“You can call me Shinsuke.”

“Oh, right,” she places a palm on her forehead and takes a deep breath. “Thank you Shinsuke.”

“You can talk about him,” she can hear the sink running as he speaks. “It might help you…I won’t push you of course though,” she hears the faucet squeak as she finally turns around. Her back hits the wall with a sigh and she shakes her head as she looks towards the ground.

“It wasn’t all bad, sometimes it was nice. I just…I didn’t feel loved after a while.” She sees his shoes come into her vision and she lifts her head. “I can’t speak for him, I know I wasn’t perfect either. I broke my fair share of plates,” she laughs quietly. “Our first kiss was nice.” He tilts his head and there’s a somber expression residing in his features. “He had gotten out of practice early, or skipped, something you know. He stopped me at a crosswalk and told me he wanted to kiss me…it was really sweet no matter how annoyed I acted. I wish the next day hadn’t ruined it.”

“What happened?”

“Oh you know how it is, the paparazzi got a photo of us kissing and it was all over the front cover. We didn’t go on many dates after that, to protect me from the really crazy fangirls is what he said at least.”

“The…so. The paparazzi just happened upon you two kissing on a random street corner,” he doesn’t say it like a question.

“It is weird huh,” she doesn’t want to know where he’s going. “Please don’t tell me the truth. I don’t want the happy memories I do have to be…lost.” Kita nods and closes his lips in a tight laced smile. “It’s getting late,” she clears her throat and pushes herself off of the wall and towards the living room. He follows her to the door and watches as she steps over the threshold, she rubs her arms and he turns to the closet near the door.

“I don’t want you to get cold,” he says simply as he hands her one of his corduroy jackets; the jacket's fur lining is soft to the touch and despite some darker patches on the elbows it looks in good condition.

“Thank you Shinsuke.”

“It’s no problem.”

She returns to the familiar house she’s started calling her own home. When she opens the door she’s met with the sight of the curtains pulled back to let light in and easels with blank canvases rested on them. “What’s all this?” She smiles as she points towards the easels.

“I thought we would take the day off. I didn’t like how things yesterday ended. So, I remembered telling you I like to paint when I’m upset about something…I thought maybe it would help you feel better too.” He finishes wiping off the brushes and puts them on a towel and places the towel on the coffee table in the living room.

“That’s…kinda cute actually.” She follows after him and sits down at one of the easels. “I don’t know where to start.” She picks up one of the brushes before twirling it between her fingers. She rolls it back and forth. She feels his warmth against her back and feels his hand wrapping around hers. He guides her hand to one of the colors spread out on the palette.

“Just, paint whatever,” he says gently as he guides her hand to make smooth strokes over the canvas. When she starts to get more confident in her movements he gently starts removing his hand from hers. She turns her head to look at him and after a moment of eye contact decides she’ll finally talk.

“Will you keep helping?”

“Whatever you need.” His hand holds hers again but instead of guiding her strokes it’s like she’s guiding him. His other hand is resting gently on her shoulder and if she listens closely she wonders if she could hear his heartbeat…or is that her heartbeat thumping in her ears. When her hand stops moving she’s surprised at what she was able to create. It’s not something that outdoes the Mona Lisa by any means but it’s clear to see what it is. An ocean landscape with bits of coral, some of it bleached and some healthy. It makes her think of herself…maybe this was more healing than she had originally given Kita credit for. He smiles when he takes in the whole picture. “It’s beautiful.”

“It’s rudimentary at best, and I had you to help me.”

“It’s not bad, you’re too harsh on yourself. I really like how you did the water, very…flowy? Is that a word?” They both let out a small laugh at that. They start to clean up the mess they (she) made. There’s a small stain of blue paint on the coffee table as it wouldn’t come off. Kita told her he didn’t mind and that it could do with some color.

“I feel bad, you didn’t get to paint.”

“This wasn’t about me, this was about you. I told you I would try and help you feel better about yourself and the grieving process. I’m sorry it took me this long to get to it.” He puts the supplies back in his room down the hall. When he returns he motions for them to both sit on the sofa so she follows suit.

“In a weird way, it did make me feel better. I can’t explain it but it feels like I’m thinking clearer now?”

“I’m glad I was able to help, or I suppose. I’m happy the pain was able to help.”

“No, I think it was more you than the paint. I think you're helping me.”

“You need to be able to rely on yourself too.”

“I do, but it’s like you told me. Asking for help isn’t a bad thing. So, I asked for help and I actually feel better.” There’s silence for a second as both sit and think of the words they said.

“You listened to me?”

“Yeah? You were helping me, why would I not listen to you Shinsuke?”

“I don’t know…I’m just really glad I was able to help you.”

By the end of the day she’s pulling the corduroy jacket she took last time back over herself and heading for the door. She looks over her shoulder at him as she leaves and calls out to him.

“Shinsuke?”

“Yes?”

“I think I’m over him. It’s the love I’m mourning, not the person.” Before he can answer she turns on her heel and towards her car.

On his next delivery run she tags along, she’s gotten used to the soft leather of the seats of his truck. Of the middle seat being where the console would otherwise be. Little bits of hair fall from their spot behind her ear from the vents of the truck. Kita notices and looks over at her for a moment. “Is your hair bothering you?”

“A little?”

“Glove box.” She looks at him confused for a moment before popping open the compartment and finding a new pack of hair ties and bobby pins sitting neatly. “I…I noticed your hair falls from behind your ears a lot so I figured I should keep some in our car for convenience.”

“Thank you Shinsuke.”

They pull up past familiar billboards, ads she hadn’t seen since her move. She finds they don’t sting quite like they used to when she was looking out the window of her apartment. She doesn’t miss the apartment; as hard as moving had been. The hand that’s held in her hand confirms that for her. The car rolls to a stop outside of a familiar establishment. Onigiri Miya, she thinks she’s okay with going in there now. She carries a sack of rice over her shoulder and Kita grabs the other two, the clipboard clamped between his hand and the sack of rice. He gives her a look and with a reassuring smile from her the two walk inside the building. It hadn’t changed much since the last time she had seen it, the floor still wooden and the booths still padded. There were a few pictures hanging around and a new award set up on one of the shelves.

“Y/N,” the voice is familiar and the remembrance of the friendship she lost comes back to her. “What are you doing here?” She turns and Osamu takes the bag of rice from her despite her complaint.

“I’m working,” she gives him a smile. He’s not sure the last time he saw a smile quite as bright on her face. “I moved out to the countryside, fate has it I found an old friend of yours.”

“Osamu,” Kita nods and steps a little closer to Y/N. “How’s it going?”

“Good, you two can stay for a quick lunch or dinner if you want. The rush just got over so there are plenty of tables open.”

“Thank you,” She holds her hands open but Osamu shakes his head and starts heading towards the back. Once the bags are put away and the papers are signed the three of them lean against the counters. Osamu on the expo counter and Y/N and Kita on the counter across from him. “Long time.”

“I thought for sure I would never see you again after my brother…well you know what he did better than I do obviously…” there’s a pause and Osamu looks around awkwardly before scratching the back of his neck. “You look nice. Happy.”

“I am.” And she finds that she’s not lying. She is happy, happy that her life seems to be normal again, happy she found Kita or did he find her? She finds that she’s happy that she found this job to begin with…she feels alive. Kita’s pinkie finger lightly taps hers and she can’t help the smile that appears on her face as she tries to bite it away. Osamu smiles a little as he notices their hands as their pinkies interlock with each other.

“I’m happy for you…stay for a snack at least.”

“If she’s okay with it.” Kita looks towards Y/N and she nods her head. Osamu leads them to an empty table and takes their order himself.

“I’ll be back soon,” he says and slips away back to the kitchen. He shakes his head with a smile when he notices how in love the two look. It’s not a hard thing to see. They practically yell it out to everyone with the little touches and glances. He hears the squeak of the back door open and his head whips around to see a familiar mop of blonde hair.

“Hey ‘Sa-” and he’s seen it. Atsumu should’ve gotten out later than this, that’s why he didn’t feel bad about asking them to stay. “Practice got out early.” he hates how small his brother’s voice sounds, despite the falling out and things he’s heard Atsumu is still his brother at the end of the day.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?” His eyes are locked on Y/N as she talks excitedly to Kita about something. She radiates pure…joy. His line of sight is broken when Osamu notices and shifts to the side slightly. He swallows and tries to get it to leave his mind. “She never looked at me like that.” He clears his throat and turns around so his back is facing Osamu now. His hands rest on the cool metal of the table and there’s quiet chatter of the few patrons inside the shop talking with each other.

Osamu sighs and shakes his hand through his hair. He puts the towel from over his shoulder into his apron and leads Atsumu further away from the expo counter. He slips the apron off and closes the door to his office. “She did ‘Tsumu.”

“Did what?”

“She did look at you like that…it was you who wasn’t looking.” Part of him knows Osamu is right but it doesn’t make the pain subside as his chest stings. Osamu opens his arms and he doesn’t hesitate to throw himself at his brother. Tears don’t fall from his eyes in a quick manner, the soothing circles on his back helping to keep him grounded. “I’m sorry ‘Tsumu.”

“It’s okay…” for the first time since she left. It hurts; hurts in a way he didn’t anticipate. More than words the two of them ever shared. “I’m okay.”

“You’re allowed to be upset.”

“I was the reason it ended in the first place ‘Samu.” Osamu finds he doesn’t have a reply, not one that will provide any real comfort at least. “Is it bad that I still might love her? In my own fucked up way.”

“You’re not fucked up,” Osamu pulls away to look his brother in the face. “Quit feeling sorry for yourself dumbass, you’re going to help me finish the orders for the day.” It’s a distraction and they both know it. Who would have thought that his heart would break this much after so long apart. He gives Atsumu an apron and they silently return to the counter to finish off the orders for the day. “You can still love her, just don’t…’Tsumu she’s not yours anymore.”

“I know that.”

“Do you?” He shapes the rice slower than usual and can see Atsumu pause his chopping. “I know you mean well…it’s okay to still love someone even after they leave you. She’s happy now, sitting out there with Kita. ‘Tsumu, she’s happier than I've seen her in a long time.”

“She’s not mine,” he mumbles under his breath and closes his eyes again as he sets the knife down. The tears start to slowly fall from his eyes, they’re hot and wet as they roll down his cheeks. “I let her go,” his voice teeters on the edge of breaking. “Man, these onions are really getting to me.”

“It’s okay to move on.” Atsumu sniffles and steps away from the counter to get a paper towel. He dries his eyes and nose and returns with freshly washed hands and a new set of gloves. They prep in silence for the rest of the night; even long after Y/N and Kita leave.

Kita and Y/N take a detour and wind up at a park. She questions the decision until Kita puts both of their hands in his pocket. He helps her balance as she walks along the plastic railing of the playground. “It’s been a while since I’ve been here.” She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes. When she opens them she sees the swings; they’re rusted and could do with new mats under them but they’re the same as she remembers. With a small laugh she pulls them over to the swingset.

“Slow down,” he chuckles quietly as she pulls them to the swings, they trip slightly over the mulch in their pursuit.

“Maybe, you should hurry up.” She turns her head to look at him over her shoulder and he swears his heart skips a beat. He’s slightly out of breath when they make it over and sit down. They swing softly so as to not go too high and not hear each other anymore. “I’m glad I came back here with you. I’m glad I met you. I don’t think I could have done all this without you.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” he bumps her shoulder lightly. “I was just here to give you a job.”

It’s her turn to bump him. “Now who's selling themselves short? You did so much more than that.” She stops and turns to face him better and he mirrors her. “You make me feel safe.”

“You make me feel safe too,” they find themselves leaning closer to each other. “Your eyes are beautiful when they shine like this..” it’s a whisper almost lost to the wind and she can feel her breath hitch.

“Shine like what?” She tries to keep her composure but fails as her eyes flicker to his lips.

“Like the stars,” his hand moves from holding the cold chain to cupping her cheek. Despite the initial chill she doesn’t mind his cold hand holding her cheek. He closes the distance and she doesn’t have time to process it before he’s pulling away. “Oh my goodness, I’m so-”

“Kita Shinsuke. If you don’t shut up and let me finally kiss you we’re going to have problems,” she says breathlessly and puts a hand on the back of his neck and pulls his lips back to hers. When they connect again it’s more than she thought it would be. His lips are soft, and they do taste of strawberry and honey. They taste of comfort and warmth, and something so inexplicable to him that she couldn’t picture a better taste in the world. She feels the wind chill and follows after Kita as he pulls away. “Why did you pull away?”

“It’s snowing,” he whispers against her lips.

“Is it?”

“Yes, there’s bits stuck in your hair.” His hand goes up and smooths over her hair, taking the snow with it. She smiles and tilts her head back as the powdery snow falls from the clouds and she hopes the superstition is true.

“Do you think the superstition is true?” She asks, she could picture a lifetime with him. It’s one of the easiest things she thinks she’s ever had to imagine. He’s so wonderful that loving him feels easy and she hopes that feeling doesn’t go away. She doesn’t want there to ever be a day that she stops loving Kita Shinsuke. She wants to still love him when his face grows smile lines and crow's feet, when there are sunspots coating his cheeks and shoulders. She wants him for as long as he will have her and she can only hope it’s for as long as she wants to have him.

“I sure hope so. I would love to spend a lifetime with you.” Her grin grows and she pushes herself back towards him and presses their lips against each other again. She can feel him smile into the kiss and she tangles her hands in his hair before having to pull away to sneeze. “Bless you,” he smiles and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Thank you.”

“Let’s get you home before you catch a cold.” He helps her up and wraps his arm around her shoulder as they make their way back to his truck. When they arrive at his home he gives her a change of clothes and they sit on the couch watching movies before eventually going to his room and sleeping. His home was beginning to feel a bit more like it was their home, she had a spare key (a courtesy he had given her a few months after she started working for him). His closet space was overtaken by her clothes as her own closet began to dwindle, she knew he kept hair ties in the nightstand on the left side because that’s the side she always chose to sleep on. The layout of the house is as familiar to her as the back of her hand. She’s sure she could navigate it in the dark having been over so often.

She’s happy there wasn’t a big moment of realization that she had fallen in love with Kita, it was less of a fall and more a gentle downhill stroll. One they took hand in hand every step of the way. The night she had first moved in it had rained and she remembers the day so clearly. It was one of those summer rain storms but on a cool night. She made Kita turn the porch lights on and grabbed his hand as she dragged him outside. He protested but there wasn’t anything to do to hide the pure joy on both of their faces. She taught him a simple box step and laughed whenever he would accidentally step on the toes of her shoes. His favorite part was spinning her, he got to see her laugh and smile as she spun around under the stream of water. Their clothes were well beyond soaked at this point and it was hard to convince her to go back inside. He almost didn’t want to.

She also remembers when they both got sick and had to take care of each other while doing their farmwork. That hadn’t been fun but waking up every morning seeing his face and ending every night safely held in his arms is fun. She doesn’t believe she will ever tire of the sight if she’s honest. Of how his eyelashes flutter against his cheeks before his eyes open. Or the dimple that appears when he smiles after she kisses his cheek. The quiet breaths have almost lulled her back to sleep a few times, Kita was so safe that it was hard to ever find a reason to leave his arms. Luckily for her he was never too far away.

When the leaves change color they visit a shelter, she had noticed there were a few rodents on the farm (since she had moved into his home. Her little home no longer felt the same if he wasn’t with her). It had come up one day as they were looking over the finances. “We should get a farm cat.”

Kita takes a sip of his coffee before replying, “why?”

“I think we could use one.”

“Whatever you want darling,” there’s a hint of a smile barely visible behind the rim of his mug as he takes another drink. It had taken them two more weeks to finally make the move, after one too many texts from Y/N with ads for adoptable cats near them he finally gave in. They make the drive out to a shelter and Kita pretends to be unfazed until Y/N puts a Siberian cat in his arms and she immediately starts purring.

“Look! She likes you!” The cat twists and turns in his arms and makes biscuits in the air and he can’t help but fall in love. “Her name is Emi,” beautiful blessing. While he’s holding the purring cat in his arms he can’ help but think how fitting the name is, her coat is soft and a mixture of lighter and darker tones of brown. Her eyes are a shade of green that reminds him of emeralds. “Please Shin?”

“Alright.” It doesn’t take much convincing and if he’s being honest it was a yes as soon as the cat was put in his arms. She does well in the home and does even better at keeping the farm pest free. Kita can’t help himself when he goes to the pet store and sees a silk collar with a bow on it, he leaves the store with a bag of food (needed) and the brand new collar for Emi (...also needed).

As the leaves turn into shades of oranges, yellows, and reds as they fall off the trees they find that Emi loves jumping into the leaves and then running back to you for you to rake them again. Although it could get a bit much if it had been a long day it does brighten their mood and they rake the leaves for her to jump in again. As the wind whistles quietly by them Kita and Y/N lay in their newly bought hammock. It sits in the place opposite their bench swing on the back porch. Kita likes laying in the hammock as he reads because he knows it means that a sleepy girlfriend– fiance comes wandering out and joins him by laying her head on his chest. A few minutes later the flap on the door hits against the wood and Emi jumps up to join them, finding her place in a spot between them and purrs loudly.

“Shin, I love you…thank you.”

“I love you too darling, why are you thanking me?”

“Before you…before you I thought I was impossible to love,” she whispers and hears the soft thump as he closes his book and the shuffle of fabric as he turns to look at her. He leans his head down and presses a gentle kiss to her forehead and without moving too far responds.

“I don’t think anyone has ever actually tried. Loving you is easier than breathing.” She can’t help the flutter in her chest or the smile that always seems to grow on her face around him. “You’re perfect, and I love you. It’s impossible not to love you.”

“I think it’s pretty impossible not to love you too,” She tilts her head up and they share a gentle kiss. He opens his book again and moves it down so she’s able to read along with him.

“Let me know when you’re ready for me to turn the page,” he says gently as he lays his cheek against the top of her head. She realized that someone had finally seen through her mess. He had seen her fall apart and break more than once and he had stayed. He helped her as she opened up to him when she was ready, everything was on her time and if she hadn’t been ready to share anything nothing more was said on the topic until she brought it up. She found herself eating more pomegranate knowing him, there was never a mess and he would kiss her lips after she ate the seeds. She hoped it would stain his lips too, that there would be a reminder that they are stained together. That his nails would turn a pink hue from peeling back the skin to get to what’s inside.

When the old ladies came into the shop she no longer dodged questions about their relationship and Kita was more than happy to step in and answer. She hit him on the shoulder when he got too sappy but the second he wraps his arms around her and kisses her cheek to apologize she realizes she’s not actually mad. Someone let her open up and reveal the mess inside, he hadn’t said anything, had only grabbed a towel and helped her clean up whatever mess she felt like that day. He was forever stained with the color of her and she hoped he always would be. She finally understood why people thought pomegranates were beautiful. After all Kita Shinsuke was beautiful and she is worth the mess.

a/n: this is a repost from my old account but i hope you guys enjoyed it anyway <3 want to be added to my taglist? you can find the form here

masterlist

#haikyu x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #kita x reader #kita shinsuke x reader #haikyu fluff #haikyuu angst #haikyu angst #hq fluff #hq angst #haikyu x you #haikyuu x you #hq x you

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