#so to this day i still get eight ways of puffed up in emotion over negative comments. especially to that degree

[mhaccunoval]

i prommy i'll be over the comment thing in a bit. i'm just realizing it struck a specific nerve

[dokifluffs]

Cutting Onions | Kita Shinsuke

Pairing: Kita X Reader (female) 

Genre: soft 🥺, pregnant reader 

Author’s Note: I thought of this standing next to onions at the grocery store 😂 This was also almost for Osamu buttt Kita needs love 

Gif Creds: @rivaillerose​

The afternoon sunlight shone through the sheer white curtains as the floated through the air from the steady, calm breeze circulating through

Birds chirped in the oak trees out back

The water from the small man-made stream babbled just outside the window

The wooden floors creaked beneath his feet as he pulled a thin blanket and draped it over you as he stifled a yawn

Kita’s body sunk into the couch cushions adjacent to the couch you laid fast asleep on, your body laid on your side as you had been doing for the last seven, almost eight months

You were due in just around two or so months

His hair fell effortlessly onto the pillow as he laid, his busy legs and feet finally able to catch a break after all the errands he had to run, the fields he had to tend to

There weren’t too many days off for the two of you but it had been just him

Once you entered your second trimester, Kita wouldn’t allow you to do anything too straining

He worked as soon as he woke, made you breakfast, leaving it in the stove or oven for you so it was still warm enough when you woke

You would only see him maybe for lunch but definitely for dinner as he made everything too, wanting you to relax as much as possible

Yet even after dinner, he still wasn’t done

He got ahead with chores for the next day, some nights even heading back out when the sun was barely lighting up the sky anymore and wouldn’t return until sometimes you were already asleep

Kita was always super busy, you barely saw him

His heart beat was slow in his ears as his vision began to blur, the last image he could see was of you before he slipped into some much needed rest

“Just... for a little...” his final words before he let rest restore his body

With that, kita’s chest rose and fell at a slow and steady pace, his breaths deep as the cushions he laid on felt comfier than the bed

Your eyes blinked to consciousness as your ears could hear heavy breathing aside from your own

You pushed your hands into the warm couch you had been asleep on for the last few hours, the blanket you didn’t even realize was draped over your body, slid down your arms, pooling at your waist

Kita was fast asleep on his stomach, arms beneath the pillow his face was smothered into

You slipped off the couch as quietly as you could, waddling on the balls of your feet as you made your way over to him, kneeling down

Your fingers combed through his light gray hair, blackened tips

He was so gentle even as he slept

You leaned close and pressed a kiss to his hair, giving his back a little rub, something that normally would have woken him up easily yet  

He stayed sound asleep

You silently waddled away, walking on the balls of your feet, the oversized t-shirt with baby fox patterns all over it, tickled your bare thighs as you moved

Walking into the kitchen, the golden glow of the setting sun pooled all through the open windows, the lacy curtains, a gift form Kita’s grandmother, floated in the breeze, the air much cooler as dusk approached

“Let’s get to it,” you drew your lips into a line, smiling as your cheeks puffed now that Kita was asleep, you could prepare dinner for him for once

You began the preparations the best you could as quietly as you could but you knew as soon as Kita could hear the sound of you doing something when he wants you to be resting, he would make you stop, insisting on you resting as much as possible

But you were done resting

You wanted to help because you knew you could do more

As time went on, you chopped ingredients of vegetables and meats as the rice cooked in the rice cooker, a process you had to do so quietly, you thought for sure your husband would wake

The sun continued to set as you continued your preparations as long as you could, as quietly as you could

And now you were onto the last ingredient you would be caramelizing: onions

Onions always made you cry and now was no exception

You sliced through the acidic vegetable as Kita stirred, your focus on the onion since you didn’t want to hurt yourself with the knife as well as to finish your task at hand

Kita’s mind began to regain consciousness as his tired, and now very much relaxed body stretched not he sofa, his head foggy as he pushed out a yawn, hot tears prickling at his eyes

And that’s when he heard it

He was wide awake andiron his feet in seconds as he snapped his head towards the kitchen, hearing the sound of your sniffles and crying

“Y/N? Honey?” Kita almost slipped on his feet as he frantically slid on his socks into the tiled floor of the kitchen as you turned to him, your teary eyes meeting his own as you set the knife down

“Honey, what’s wrong?”

You were teary cause of the onions but there was much more behind your tears now that you saw Kita

The visible concern and pure emotion stuck on his features as he caught his breath, his hand hooding your arm as he took the knife from your hand, setting it down on the cutting board with the diced onions you had been working on

“What happened? Are you hurt?” He inspected your hands, bringing them under the faucet and washing them, looking for any visible cuts until you held his hands, shutting off the water and drying them to interlace them with yours

You weren’t cutting onions anymore but the tears wouldn’t stop

“Shinsuke, you look so tired,” you reached up and held his cheek in your hand

His hair disheveled, the last bits of panic still present in his eyes

“You’re working so hard, you always have been but now that I’m pregnant, you want me to rest but I can still help you. I want to help you,” you sniffled as you looked up to your precious husband

“I know you do,” he took your hand that held his, pressing a kiss to your palm

“I want you to just live a good, comfortable life, especially since another one will be joining us,” he brought his hand down to the side of your swelled belly

“But you’re always so tired, I don’t want you to be so tired and to burn yourself out,” you squeezed his hand

“I won’t, my love. I promise, I’ll take more breaks, okay?” He pat your head, wiping your tears away with the back of his hand, his eyes and lips pulling into a smile as he bent down, pecking kisses to your cheek and temple

“You know you’re so cute when you pout, right?” He pressed his body as close as he could to yours, his breath hot against your lips as he leaned close, rubbing his nose to yours

“Mmhm,” you hummed, leaning up the best you could to press your lips to his

“Let’s make dinner together,” his voice still deep and raspy from sleep, everything about Kita able to make your heart flutter so much

~~~~~ Thanks for reading! Masterlist for more! Please do not repost anywhere else!

Tags (let me know if you wanna be tagged for all my haikyuu posts): @yams046  @mazey-chan  @sunboikyo00  @kara-grayson04​  @fortheloveofbakugo​ @tsumtsumsemi​ @1-800-wholesome@yamagucci​ @realityisoftendisapointing @plantisnotplant @pink-panda-pancakes​ @differentballooncollection​ @osamusamusamu@therainroguefanfiction​ @euphorihan@turquoiselace​ @macaronnv​  @oxmaddy​​ @mrkoala4prsdnt​​ @curiouslilbeast​ @plantisnotplant@therestless101​ @abcdaichi​ @oyasenpai​ @kaaidalupita​ @lovinnoya​ @wisepandaslimeland​ @killuaking​ @bbymilkbread​ @tsumtsumland​​​ @suunikimchi @woah-there-cowboy-or-cowgirl​ @amandahh626​ @nabisonyeo94​ @wntrmn​ @dai-tsukki-desu​ @peteunderoos​ @ohyoumakemelive​ @aka-a-shii​ @shinhiromi​ @wompwomphq​ @lollypop-lam​ @isentsworld​ @blue-melody​ @u-wakatoshii​ @moondriplets​ @lovinnoya​​ @yuueisteria​ @humanitysbiggestsimp​ @cjphoenix135​ @inarizaki-captain​ 

[burnedbyshoto]

I wanted to make myself like the ravine

— There are plenty of things that Hawks knows about, but there are few he knows none about. A journey of how Hawks navigates the meaning of the word love. 

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pairing: hawks (takami keigo) x fem!reader

warnings: recent manga spoilers, future!au, alcohol consumption, fem!reader

word count: 6,819

a/n: this is for the pocuties valentines day collab! rhank you for letting me join! inspired by the poem to the title of this fic!

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A G A P E

—

Hawks is one of the fastest men in the world.

It’s not a brag; it’s the truth.

A cold, hard, damning truth.

Hawks is a Pro Hero with the power, skill, and finesse required to take the fall for the entire country. He is someone who is loved by all, who thrives off of the appreciation and the cheers, but he knows — he understands — he’s expendable. He’s a tool—an object seconds from being put to rest.

There are many things that Hawks knows; he’s been training to be a hero since he was in his very childhood. Blindfolded, tested and conditioned to be the ideal hero, the perfect pawn.

Hawks is no idiot, and he will never deny that often times that he isn’t sure what he is feeling.

Emotions are weird for him. Feelings are oversimplified in everything he was taught, yet disgustingly really and oddly interfering the second he had set foot into the spotlight. He was used to the cold, the people who would view him as a specimen, experiment 20493, codenamed: Fierce Winged Hawks. The only emotions he understood was apathy, seriousness, anger, resentment, bitterness, disappointment, and relief. When finally, finally, the Hero Commission broke his wings, his spine, and his mind, the small boy so eager to be a Hero ultimately nothing but a soldier, ready to follow commands to the T.

Hawks has only heard of love from the blurry, unclear memories of his childhood. His mother muttering how she had no love for him to be taking care of him as he did, or his father saying he could never love him. Love was foreign, strange, alien to him. Even when he was eighteen and finally given a bit of freedom from the chains the Hero Commission bound him in was expressed out of love. But he was put into the cage that granted him the ability to spread his stiff wings; love made no sense.

He saw lovers making out in alleyways, and he furrowed his eyebrows, wondering just why anyone would want to kiss in the smelly, dark, virus-infected areas. He saw his colleagues come in looking dazed, refreshed, reborn, yelling loudly, and singing poetry about their love for some other person they met just yesterday. He also couldn’t ignore the days, weeks, months later when they would rearrive with red-rimmed eyes, swollen eyes, and a tremor to their voice.

Love seemed… awful to Hawks.

Love was a deception of brain chemicals. Nothing more than your mind bending, flipping, and twisting to make something that made absolutely no sense make sense. 

Hawks had expressed that one day to a sidekick of his, his barriers and walls crumbling away because he had been on a stakeout for five days straight now. The world that could never keep up with him was numbing his brain.

“Well, that’s romantic and flirtatious love for ya,” his sidekick explained with a halfhearted shrug. It seemed that he both agreed and disagreed with what Hawks had to say. “They’re amazing loves, don’t get it wrong, and they definitely don’t make sense, but they’re loves not meant to last.”

Hawks blinked.

“What?”

His sidekick chuckled, hands rubbing at his eyes as he peered out the window again, his sullen eyes looking even more tired.

“Have you never learned the different types of love before, Hawks?” the sidekick teased as much as he was curious. “I figured a pro as popular and smart as you are would know the different types of love.”

Hawks feathers fluttered in his inability to keep his lack of knowledge to himself.

“I don’t.”

“Wow, finally something Hawks isn’t aware of!” the sidekick laughed, and his hand opened his phone, fingers hitting the screen before shoving the device into Hawks’ chest. “I’m sure you’ll find that you can understand at least one love.”

Hawks grabbed the phone, head cocking to the side in his curiosity as he scrolled down through the phone.

There were eight different types.

Eight different ones that he could have experienced within his then twenty-one years, and he found himself unable to look away from one.

Agape: universal, selfless love

“Hawks, they’re moving!” the sidekick squawked, and Hawks handed over the phone, and with nothing on his mind, burst out the window, ready to take down this organization.

Hawks had to admit that later that night, when he was finally able to sleep in his own bed, he felt selfless love. It was for the people of Japan. The many citizens who needed his help and the heroes of the country who rose to the demands of the job. Maybe it wasn’t the type of love depicted in anything he’s ever read or watched before, but that was okay. It was love.

The love he has for the citizens is enough to keep his head afloat.

This is the only love he needs in his life right now, the only love that matters.

But he’s no longer twenty-one, he’s twenty-five, and the wings on his back that feel practically invisible to him, are hurting. His back is in pain, his quirk almost gone, save for the smallest, insignificant feathers perching from the stumps of what was his beginnings of a wingspan. It still burns, phantom singes and phantom heat whenever he thinks about his nearly gone, never to be grown again, wings.

“Well, Hawks, you already know that this is going to happen,” comes the cold voice of one of the board members of the Hero Commission. A man who had practically raised (see managed) him. 

Today was the end of Hawks life, more or less.

“AFO, Shigaraki Tomura, and the well-known former members of the League of Villains were finally stopped,” Hawks speaks with a nod. He knows, even though he could not be a soldier, he had been around to see the young UA students, Endeavors Interns, bring them to justice.

The biggest names of evil were dead, and Hawks already knew he was over.

To be fair, he was glad it was over.

But still, it hurt to hear the indifference in his voice, the apathy, the tedium.

“Operation: Fierce Wings - Hawks is officially over.”

“I could’ve figured that one out pretty easily,” Hawks jests, unable to show the way his heart twisted and withered under the knowledge that he was no longer a hero. His love, his agape, for the people were still there. Still, just as he recognized in his colleagues who were experiencing the different forms of love, it didn’t matter how much love you held for someone, something, for the innocent, helpless people…

Life takes, it destroys, and love doesn’t seem to have a chance.

“Thank you for your twenty years of service. I hope you find the freedom you had been looking for.”

P H I L A U T I A

It’s been a week.

Seven days, twenty-one hours, sixteen minutes, and thirty-four seconds since Hawks was fired (see Honorably Discharged) as a Pro Hero.

Hawks has always felt that the world moved oh so slowly behind him. It had been his wish that heroes be able to relax, laze around because society had evolved enough that criminals knew better, were treated better, and could integrate into a truly peaceful society.

It had been his dream.

But right now, he was bored.

B o r e d.

“Fuck, I don’t care,” Hawks grumbled, face smooshing into a pillow as he watched the Netflix Series Bridgerton drone on the screen. “Dump his ass.”

His apartment, it was safe to say, was a mess. There were cups, bowls, plates, and chopsticks everywhere. His hair was ruffled, stringy, held back by a hair clip he had stolen from Miruko. His beard was nearly fully grown in, and there were bags under his eyes despite the fact he was sleeping for more hours of the day than staying awake. He was sore, tired, bored.

So bored.

He didn’t think being bored was going to suck this much, going to hurt him like this.

Fuck.

“Open the damn door, bird boy!” came a sharp scream and powerful kick from the front door.

Hawks glared at the door, the tiniest of feathers he had been able to regrow, trying to pathetically open the lock on the door. A sheen layer of sweat pushed against his forehead, and Hawks grunted, trying to lift the heavy lock.

BAM.

The door swung open, forcefully kicked open by none other than Pro Hero Miruko.

“Yo!” Miruko waved, lips pulled in a fierce grin as she entered through the broken doorway with nothing but a bag of unknown items. “I figured you were here!”

“...you broke my door,” Hawks pointed out, eyes narrowed as dust and destruction danced within the air.

“You took too long,” Miruko breezed, slamming her plastic bag on the kitchen island. “It’s a fucking rats nest in here, birdbrain; I thought you were somewhat organized?”

Hawks groaned loudly, sinking further into his couch as Miruko began reorganizing his kitchen area — dumping the dirty dishes into the sink and throwing things away in fast, practiced skill. “Life is too boring, and I’m too bored to do anything about all of the mess,” Hawks exaggerates partially, hand twisting and dancing as he speaks. “Thanks for cleaning up the mess.”

“I’m not cleaning up your damn mess, birdbrain,” Miruko barks out a laugh, her hands slamming against the now, somehow, clean surface. “I’m just making my life easier!”

Hawks looked over the top of the couch with a semi impressed, semi uncaring look and shrugged.

“You seem to have a great handle over those robot limbs now,” he points out.

Sure enough, Miruko had two bionic limbs, limbs that she had finally managed to work into a fighting career. After spending two years on the sideline, relearning how to walk and then fight, she was back on the field.

She was a hero again, despite it all, unlike him.

“Damn right, I’m amazing!” Miruko preened, chest puffed, and bunny tail wagging excitedly. “But anyway, I figured your dumbass would be depressed, so I brought you some shit.”

Hawks watched with a curious gaze as Miruko quickly hopped once from where she was in the kitchen to a place on his couch, landing on Hawks' legs unintentionally.

“OW!”

“Look at what Rumi brought you,” Miruko laughed, slapping Hawks on the back as he cradled his legs. “And yes, I just referred to myself in the third person, so shush.”

Hawks grumbled, lips in a half pout, half frown.

Taking the opaque bag from Miruko, Hawks pulled out the many items in the bag.

Carrots, a KFC gift card, Korean skincare products, a movie about Miruko’s recovery process, and a 1001 Things to Do (A Book on Finding Self Love).

Hawks stares at the book.

“The perfect items for a self-care, self-love spa day,” Miruko nods, once again slapping Hawks on the back. “Some old sidekick of yours told me that you don’t know what love is, so I figured that I would help teach you the most important one! Self-love! Truly the hardest one to master, in my opinion, but damn if it isn’t a good one.”

Hawks feels transfixed almost, unable to look away from the book as Miruko slaps him on the back yet again as she moves to leave. He hears her yelling about forwarding the bill to fix his door to her, her agency would pay for the damage, and how she’s off to train with some bunny hopping boy from UA.

Opening the book, Hawks looked at the number one thing to do on the book and sighed.

#1: Look in a mirror and name five things you LOVE about yourself.

Well, it’s not like he has anything better to do.

-

Hawks is on number thirteen (Stand at a bridge and scream into the void about the things you love at dusk) when he realizes that maybe… he doesn’t love himself. 

It is without saying that he loves people; agape, after all, is the only love type that made sense to him, but philautia, self-love, was way lost on him. Objectives 2 - 12 on the book were entertaining to do! They had Hawks going outside of his house much more than his week trapped indoors, and for the first time since the day his wings had been burnt off, his house was spotless.

But it was clear to Hawks that he didn’t feel love for himself.

Whenever he tried to convince himself that he should love himself, that there were terrific qualities in himself, he thought back to the dirty, burnt room. 

“I still gotta protect their happiness!” the phantom in his mind screamed, the broken sob collected in his throat.

Hawks shivered, unable to let himself recognize the pain and hurt in the phantom's eyes, or the way that he now wished he had never done that… why had he done that?

What a mess…

The small chirping of Hawks phone interrupts his morose thoughts. He looks at the screen, eyebrows raising in slight mirth and caution as none other than his former intern was currently calling him.

“Tsukuyomi-kun!” Hawks laughs into the receiver, the weight of his past for a moment forgotten. “How are ya?!”

“Hello, Hawks-sensei,” Tokoyami’s calm tone fills Hawks' ears. “I was calling because I have a request to make.”

“Name it,” Hawks spoke immediately, slouching against the cold bars of the bridge, eyes closing as he tried to relax. “You need a letter of rec or something?”

“Nothing of the sort, actually,” Tokoyami says. “We third-year students are graduating in a few days; I was inquiring if you would attend on my behalf.”

“Wow, Tsukuyomi-kun, no need to be so formal with me!” Hawks laughed delightedly, his hands carting through his feather-like hair, “I’d love to come and watch you guys graduate! Is it true that the finger-smashing boy is the valedictorian?”

“That would be false, Midoriya-kun has nothing on Yaoyorozu-san.”

“What a bummer, you’d think he’d be first after how he helped win the war for us, huh?”

“You’ll find that Yaoyorozu-san is highly gifted and undeterred by most things,” Tokoyami sighed. For a moment, Hawks chuckled at the melancholy tone to his old intern's voice. It sounded as if he had been striving with great difficulty to reach the highest marks as well. 

Hawks began speaking to his rather odd ex-intern with great curiosity with the blanket of the night surrounding him. His defenses and thoughts whittling away the more they spoke, the later it got in the morning.

“Ne, Tokoyami-kun, I have a question?”

“Concerning what?”

Hawks pauses, his brows furrowing as he looks up into the still dark sky, “Do you know how to love yourself?”

Silence.

Had it been anyone else, Hawks would have panicked at the lack of noise. Still, his already less than chatty intern typically took to not speaking much to begin with.

“Self-love is difficult,” Tokoyami finally spoke, his words slow, carefully chosen. “We humans are flawed; we all have demons. Most of the time, we only recognize and see our demons, oftentimes forgetting that being human also means being weak and at times immoral. Loving oneself is a hard task because we know ourselves better than any other. It’s a work in progress for everyone to love oneself, it's a type of love by the Ancient Greeks, but it’s not always everpresent. One must accept all flaws to love oneself, and remember that flaws don’t make you less, even if you believe otherwise.”

“...wow, I asked for a sentence answer, and you gave me a speech. Who would’ve known you were so in check with your emotions, Tokoyami!”

“You knew, I’ve already revealed this side of me before. You laughed last time too.”

Hawks finds himself home thirty minutes later, and he stares up at the ceiling, fingers drumming against his chest.

Self-love… it seems like an ever-evolving type of love, but it’s there. He knows that even if he has regrets and hardships and things he hates about himself, deep down, self-love exists and that it will exist. 

Patience.

Even the fastest man in the world could demonstrate patience.

L U D U S

“What can I get for ya?”

“I have no idea honestly, do you have any recommendations?”

Hawks could say with complete honesty that he felt entirely out of place.

He was at a local bar. The bar was semi-busy today. Most young adults dressed in an arrangement of clothes, each on a different level of soberness as they cheered to this and that. 

Why was he at a bar even though he was slightly uncomfortable? Well, you can blame #73 in the book for that.

(#73: Enter the first bar you find, order a drink, and flirt!)

“What type of liquor do you like? Hard or soft?”

Hawks blinked; he didn’t know.

“Hard?”

The bartender looked a bit unsure of him for a bit before nodding and turning his back to him.

Did hard liquor mean he was going to get an iced drink? He’s never consumed alcohol before.

“Here you go!” the bartender sang, slamming two shot glasses before him. “Two shots of Bacardi.”

“Oh, thank you?” Hawks tilted his head as a small cup of OJ was placed in front of him (“That’s your chaser,” the bartender had laughed). Bringing the small glass shot glass up, Hawks looked around at the throngs of people surrounding the bar and looked at you. You were cheering loudly as you raised your own shot glass in the air with a whoop and, in a fast, fluid motion, brought the shot glass to your mouth and took the liquid down easily. Hawks was definitely unimpressed now; that looked entirely too easy. “Here we go, cheers to me.”

Imitating your own actions, Hawks shot back the liquid in his shot glass, and immediately his entire body tensed.

EW.

NO.

EW.

OH GOD, NO!

Spitting out the sour, bitter, disgusting — dear god, how do you even describe this taste?! — liquid, Hawks, chugged the OJ, his lungs and throat and tongue burning from the shot.

“That was disgusting!” Hawks spat to absolutely no one, his hands covering his mouth as he stared at the other awaiting shot of ‘Bacardi.’ “Why would anyone drink that?!”

“Only madmen drink Bacardi while sober,” a voice joined in on Hawks' one-sided conversation. “Or bitches who are self-sabotagers. Never trust a hoe who says Bacardi is their favorite drink.”

Hawks turned around to see you, the girl he had regrettably underestimated for taking the shot, smiling at him with a not entirely sober look to your face. 

“You look like neither. That and the way you took the shot obviously means that you had no idea what you were drinking.” Hawks continued to stare at you, completely perplexed by your casual conversation, the dress on your body that was twisted a bit, screaming wonders about your level of sobriety. You took to the empty barstool beside him with a grin and a calculating look, “You’re Hawks, right?”

“Yeah, Hawks,” he spoke, his tongue feeling weird in his mouth as he bowed stiffly in his chair. You were beautiful, fuck.

“I’m y/l/n, nice to meet you!” you speak easily, fingers grabbing at his other filled shot glass with a concerned look. “I have a feeling you shouldn’t try to take this other shot.”

“Dying of alcohol definitely isn’t in my vision of ways to go out,” Hawks grins. Pushing through his haze of awkwardness as you shift in the barstool so that you’re now facing him entirely, knees pressed to his thigh. “I’ve never actually drunk before?”

You inhale sharply, your eyes going wide as you break all levels of personal contact that’s acceptable of strangers in Japan and grab his cheeks.

“Alcohol virgin?!” you gasp, the sweet smell of some liquid drafting from your breath. “I’ll teach you everything that I know, don’t worry!”

You let go of his face, neck turning away from him, looking for the bartender to flag him down.

“Don’t you have—?”

“They can wait,” you wave at the bartender before turning back to Hawks with a confident grin on your face. “I have my favorite Pro Hero right beside me; I think they’ll understand.”

“Alright, what is it that I need to know?”

“My full name,” you breeze with a wink. “Y/l/n y/n.”

“A beautiful name.”

“I am a beautiful woman.”

Hawks chuckled good-naturedly, his head nodding in agreement, “I think we were talking about the alcohol, though, not your attraction as a female.”

“All in good time, all in good time,” you laugh, taking to the bartender and ordering two drinks, both of which were entirely foreign to Hawks.

Hawks would not consider himself to be an expert at flirting. He was attractive, a great conversationalist, and did have a type of edge to his words that often seemed playful or a warning, depending on how you looked at it. But it appeared that his natural way of speaking was more than enough to make him flirtatious enough to match the way you spoke to him.

You had introduced him to a single mixed drink, telling him that getting drunk by yourself at a bar typically wasn’t a smart thing, so keep to something with a low alcohol percentage. Just enough to make you loosen up, but not enough that you were incapable of getting home. Hawks liked the way your hand rested on his forearm. How you smiled and laughed at something to show your interest but not at everything to show that you weren’t faking your amusement at what he was saying.

You matched his every word, not backing down from his bluffs. Soon enough, Hawks felt his cheeks warm when he finally looked directly at your smiling face (he wasn’t sure if it was from the alcohol or not). 

Eventually, though, the night ended, and you shimmied off the bar stool as your friends had come to collect you to leave.

“Can I get your number?” you ask, eyes mostly entirely sober as you handed him your phone. “I know you were the man who was just a bit too fast, but I think I can handle that.”

Hawks snorts, his eyes rolling in his amusement, “That was horrible.”

“I’m drunk, I have an excuse!” you exclaim with a pout that quickly turns into a giddy smile as Hawks enters his number to your phone. “Don’t worry though, once I’m sober, I’ll flirt your eyebrows clean off!”

“That sounds painful!” Hawks yells as you wave goodbye, your arms linked with a line of other girls as you leave the bar with teasing laughter and undecipherable words.

It was with you that Hawks realized that he had come to find a new type of love.

Ludus, the love of flirtation and playfulness.

Damn, who would’ve known.

P H I L I A

Hawks was having a pretty bad day.

It wasn’t anything super terrible happening, all things considered. It was a lovely day out; the sun was warm, the sky so blue, and the birds chirping. Nothing on the news to be concerned about and all his precious people were safe.

But it was still a bad day because instead of being out and about with you, his now borderline best friend/girlfriend, who he was stupidly having a crush on, he was stuck at home.

Hawks was sick.

Deliriously, stuffy nose, goopy eyed, chapped lips, and feverish sick.

You: Are you sure you’re fine????

Hawks: Im perfectly okay. Ill go with you to the park next time sorry

You: Thats not what im concerned about stupid!!!!!

Hawks: Bye have fun!

You: I knoW YOURE SICK ASSHOLE

Hawks chuckled, rereading his messages with you.

Blowing his nose for what felt like the umpteenth time, Hawks resumed the movie on the screen that you had recommended him to watch — Disney’s Chicken Little — because it reminded you of him, or something like that. The TV droned on with the movie, and Hawks found it hard to keep focused as the Sandman danced on his head and whispered in his ear.

He hadn’t noticed he had fallen asleep until a loud banging was heard on his door.

Shuffling towards the door, Hawks opened the still slightly broken door with bleary eyes and a stuffy nose.

In front of him was none other than you.

You… with a basket full of things.

“Hi!” you greeted him, pushing past Hawks easily and walking into his apartment. “You look worse than I thought you would be!”

“That's hurtful,” Hawks pouted, closing the door behind you, sneezing, then following after you. “Why are you here? I thought you w-were — achoo — going to the park?”

“I was, but we were supposed to go together to check off number 184, and I wasn’t about to go alone to complete a list meant for you!” you exclaimed, dumping the overfilled basket on the kitchen counter.

“Mm,” Hawks hummed, his voice dry and cracking as he pulled the blanket closer around him. “What’s this?”

“A get well care basket,” you say in an unmistakable like tone; you glance at him, smiling widely, and gesture dramatically to the basket. “Follow along, if you can.”

“Pfft.”

“So first, I have some sleepytime tea; I swear to the gods and back that this tea will cure you and knock you the fuck out,” you say, pulling out the thing on top of the basket and putting it to the side. “Next, we have some tissues because you obviously need them.”

“Hey!”

Hawks watched through red-rimmed eyes as you carefully and thoroughly explained what and why you had brought him. Fuzzy socks, a blanket, his favorite snacks and drinks, medicine, DVD’s to more movies you told him he had to watch, an embarrassing childhood picture of you that he had been wanting and swore he would never expose least he wants to die, more oils for his diffuser, and a signed Endeavor poster he had been wanting.

Safe to say that after he had been drugged up, eating some soup and drinking some tea on the couch, wrapped up in the blanket you had bought him, laying between your legs, Hawks was feeling much, much better. It had been hours since Hawks had coughed or sneezed, and he was talking with you about how Disney movies were being produced less and getting sort of worse with each one. The movie titan slowly losing its ground.

“Okay, it’s almost eleven pm; I have work tomorrow, you are still sick, let's pack it up!” you eventually say during a moment of comfortable silence.

“I can’t believe you have to work,” Hawks sniffled, standing up off the couch so that you could get up. “Seems like a crime.”

“It’s not so bad! Being a celebrity PR manager is a million times easier than a hero PR manager. At least we can help decide what's seen!” you laugh, helping to clean up his living room of the bags of chips and drinks.

“Sure, sure,” Hawks grins, keeping the trashcan open for you so that you could place the trash in. “Thank you.”

Walking you towards the front door, Hawks comes to the sudden and almost alarming realization that he doesn’t want you to leave. He wants you to stay. He thought this was a friendship, and it was one, a good one at that! For about a month now, he had known that there was a type of love he had for you, one of friendship.

It was called philia. 

So why did he want to keep you wrapped up in a hug, to pull you close and press a gentle kiss to your forehead, to your cheek, to your lips?

“—I’ll be back tomorrow to check up on you during my lunch break,” you say, slipping on your shoes as you pull on your jacket. “If you need anything at all, call or text—”

The words on your tongue die immediately when Hawks still slightly chapped lips press against yours. The sick must that was present earlier on the day is no longer there, and you can feel heat and fire bursting from your cells as Hawks pulls away from you.

“I’m sorry,” Hawks breathes out, a small smile on his face, a daze in his eyes that tells you he definitely was not completely sorry. “I couldn’t resist anymore?”

“W-We will talk about that later!” your voice squeaks, your heart hammering in your throat because fucking Hawks kissed you. “If I-I get sick, I’ll rip out your eyebrows!”

“Will you go out with me? On a date?” Hawks continues on, leaning on the doorframe you’ve yet to pass.

“...I hate you, yes,” you warble, hands pressing against your burning face as Hawks grin grows.

“Perfect, I’ll text you,” he allows you to pass through the doorway where you feel both entirely light and giddy yet awkward and mechanical.

“Hawks, I swear, if your stupid kiss got me sick!”

“You’ll rip out my eyebrows,” Hawks laughs, waving a hand. “If you rip out my eyebrows, I demand a kiss for every hair you pluck out.”

He laughs at how he can basically see the heat rising from your ears as you squawk and run away.

Looking at #184 of his book, Hawks smiles as he crosses it out (#184: Ask out your crush!) and sighs. Philia was love between friends, but it was also, if he remembered correctly, one of affection. And it was without saying that he held a deep affection for you.

E R O S

As much as Hawks claimed he knew about the world, he was as clueless as a newborn baby when it came to the topic of love. Reasoning? Well, today marked a year of being together. It had been a year since Hawks had kissed you when he was snot-nosed kissed (you did get sick, by the way, and while you didn’t rip out his eyebrows, Hawks had kissed you plenty in apology), and then took you on a date where you went to a trampoline palace.

He was clumsily romantic. More often than not, he wasn’t actually romantic. Still, the sincere thought and emotions he put into it made his actions seem so thoughtful and sweet.

You’re not sure why you actually believed that on your year anniversary, he was going to plan something for the two of you. So the reaction he had when you showed up on the year anniversary, armed with a bouquet of flowers and a small personal gift for him, Hawks looked deeply confused.

“This is still not bad!” you exclaim, watching as Hawks attempts to redecorate his apartment from the messy bachelor vibe into something of romance. It was easier said than done, especially as your boyfriend had no decorations in his house that wasn’t fanboy or bird material.

“I didn’t realize that one year anniversaries were meant to be out and about!” Hawks yelled back, failing to nail the fairy lights onto the ceilings. “I knew you wanted to do something, but I thought it was going to be like ‘let’s go get some KFC!’ sort of thing!”

“Definitely not,” you laugh, sitting on his couch with the take out food sitting on the table. It had just arrived, and Hawks was still not accepting the lack of romance in his apartment. “But it’s okay, really Hawks! I didn’t tell you, which is entirely my fault! Come on, let's watch something together, eat, and relax!”

Hawks sighed and looked up at the ceiling.

He should have known that one year anniversaries were a big thing in dating too. They sure were in businesses; what a rookie mistake. Not satisfied with the lack of romance in his apartment but also unable to do anything more to it, Hawks sulked over to the couch and sat beside you, grabbing his dinner plate.

“Thanks, dove.”

“You’re most welcome, baby vulture. Thank you for the food!” you grin, breaking the chopsticks and digging in.

The food is eaten with a mirthful conversation, the TV playing the 100 Funniest Hero Fails playing on Youtube. Eventually, the purples and pinks of the sky became dark.

Night is here.

Hawks went from sitting right beside you to lying on the couch and having you snuggled into his stomach at some point in the night. YouTube is no longer playing Hero Compilation videos. Still, it is now instead showing a chef with a giraffe quirk demonstrating how to make your very own pancake treehouse, no clickbait!

Hawks is transfixed on you, watching the way your eyes sparkle and shine as you stare up at the screen, your lips moving as you give your side commentary, but he can’t hear a thing.

Five weeks ago, on this day, was the day that Hawks realized that the philia love he had for you had evolved once again. It had become one of eros. Romantic, passionate love. He loved you; he loves you. Anything you wanted or needed in the world, Hawks would do anything to give it to you. He had yet to tell you said realization; after all, he needed to make sure it wasn’t some fluke but found himself chickening out each time he wanted to confess.

Gliding his thumb against your cheekbone, Hawks stared adoringly at you, head tilted as you laughed at the video before glancing up at him. It was evident that you hadn’t been expecting him to be staring at you so intensely. As soon as you glanced back at the TV, you snapped right back, curiosity blazing off your gaze.

“What’s up?” you asked, hands pressing to his chest as you lift up a bit. “Do I have something on my face?”

“I love you,” Hawks whispered, the words coming out so much easier than he thought it would. “Y/l/n y/n, I love you.”

Your eyes widen significantly, your jaw dropping as your eyes grow just a bit watery.

Hawks smiles softly, knowing that for so long you had told him you loved him without a single moment where he returned the affection. It hadn’t bothered you. Obviously, you knew why he didn’t say it, but finally hearing him say it seemed to break you just a bit in the best of ways. He kisses you softly, fingers wiping away the single tear that fell.

“I love you,” he repeats.

“I love you too, Hawks,” you blubber, your smile so bright yet wobbling with your heartfelt emotions.

“Takami Keigo,” Hawks corrects. “My name is Takami Keigo.”

Hawks watches as you process his name, and a wet laugh bubbles from your throat as you nod your head, hands reaching behind his neck to pull him close for the first soul-consuming, fiery kiss of the night.

“I love you, Keigo.”

If this wasn’t eros, well, then, Hawks didn’t know what it was.

P R A G M A

two years later, valentines day

Keigo sits on the bed, fingers adjusting the tie around his neck as he stares at you doing your makeup in the bathroom. Your eyes intensely concentrated on your reflection as you painted dark red lips on yourself.

To sum up the last two years in a single, simple phrase, Keigo would say that love now made even less sense to him.

It wasn’t precisely that it made perfect sense before. Some days he still argued and wondered about how love could exist in specific scenarios. Or why, after you stole his final KFC chicken leg he was saving, he could always love you after such betrayal. It made no sense to him, but also made perfect sense, hence the complete confusion.

But it was without saying that as you twirled in your outfit in front of him, a grin plastered so large and lovingly on your features, that it made sense.

How could he not love when he had someone like you.

The walk to the restaurant was perfect; he had even taken a moment to slow dance with you when you came across some performers. Your sweet smile meant just for him made Keigo hum contently as he kissed you gently.

Dinner was amazing. The food rich and luscious, entirely to die for that had the both of you moaning about how great it was before laughing because the waitress definitely heard that. After dinner was over, you and Keigo were now waiting on desserts when he simply grabbed your left hand and slid a simple ring over a very important finger before placing a kiss on your palm.

“I know I was at one point too fast, and maybe I think I was too slow to ask this, but would you like to wake up and have chicken with me every day?” Keigo asked, watching as your face went through a million stages of understanding, processing, internalizing, accepting, and pure emotions.

The kiss was sloppy and wet, the tears streaming down your face beautifully, like diamonds in the dark sky.

It was today that Keigo unlocked the last love he ever thought he would have.

Pragma: committed, enduring love.

[coffeestainsandcashmere]

Let No Man Steal Your Thyme - Chapter Eight (sfw)

I hope those few of you who follow this blog even remember this story!! It's being posted on here as a WIP, so technically you're all my beta readers :). Sorry it's taking so long to work through, but I'm really busy with other writing work, plus actual work, and some life stuff, but it's not abandoned!

In this chapter, which is a bit of a filler chapter, Hermione gets a pleasant surprise visit at the Kneazel and Quill, and she learns what Draco is doing with himself all day at the Manor, and why he has the hands of a potion master. Meanwhile Draco is quietly freaking out about what Scorpius will think of his kindling relationship with one third of the legendary Golden Trio...

As always, looking forward to hearing your reactions and thoughts!

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six (nsfw), Part Seven (nsfw)

___

The bell above the door of the Kneazel and Quill jangled, and Hermione looked up to see a very familiar figure wearing practical, Muggle clothes, and a tired but genuine smile.

“Harry!” she shrieked in delight, rising and scuttling around the desk. “When did you get back? I thought you were on assignment in Sweden til —”

He raised his eyebrows. “Wednesday? It’s Wednesday today, Hermione.”

“So it is,” she laughed, and pulled him into a hug. “Cup of tea? You look wiped out.”

“I’m only staying if you’ve got custard creams…”

She snorted. “I must have known I’d need them — I stopped at the Tesco Express on my way in this morning.”

“Maybe Professor Trelawney was wrong about you and ‘the sight’ after all?” Harry grinned and she shook her head, curls bouncing everywhere for want of a hair-tie.

Seated in the cramped back room of her second hand bookshop, Harry looked at her and cocked his head slightly to the side.

“What?” she asked, dunking a biscuit into her tea.

Quietly, Harry said, “There’s something different about you.”

“No there isn’t,” she retorted, scoffing her custard cream down and reaching for another. “I’m the same washed up old hag I’ve always been. Now, tell me about Gothenburg! I’ve wanted to go back ever since we went there for that conference — must be, ooh, what, twelve years ago now? Gods, how time flies.”

“Ok, first of all, you’re nothing like a ‘washed up old hag’, so don’t you dare talk about yourself like that, and secondly, Gothenburg was amazing.”

She smiled, and let him tell her what he could about his assignment.

“Bet Ginny’s glad to have you back,” she said.

Harry’s face shifted into what Hermione called her favourite ‘Harry being soppy for his wife’ expression, and he flushed. “Yeah, probably. Apparently Lily’s been flying around the garden at Grimmauld and it’s giving Ginny kneazles. Lily’s been pretending to be the next seeker for the Harpies or something…” Raking his hand through his messy hair, he sighed. “Who’d have ever thought I’d be sitting in your bookshop, talking about my daughter learning to fly, eh?”

She smiled, but Harry’s expression cracked a little.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

Hermione scowled fondly and reached across to take his hand in hers. “Harry… we’ve been over this a thousand times.”

“I know. I just…” he drew in a long inhale and then said, “So are you going to tell me what’s changed in your life since I’ve been away? You’re practically glowing. Did you meet someone?”

Hermione bit her lip and drew back, cheeks heating damnably.

“You did? Who is it? Do I know them?”

“Yes,” she said carefully. “You do. But if I tell you who it is, I need you to…” she puffed out her cheeks and finished off in a rush, “I need you to promise not to freak out first of all, and then promise you won’t tell a soul. Not even Ginny just yet, ok? It’s really important.”

Harry looked wary and worried at that.

Taking one more breath for courage, she said quietly, “It’s Draco Malfoy.”

For a moment, Harry fell utterly still, his green eyes wide and disbelieving. He looked like he was expecting Fred and George to pop out of the bookshelves with party streamers and tell him he’d been pranked, but when he saw her anxious expression, his shoulders dropped a fraction and he whispered, “You’re bloody serious.”

“Yes.”

“How?” he blurted. “I mean… the man’s a hermit by all accounts. How did you even meet him, let alone… you know…” he grimaced and she bit back a snicker. It looked like he’d swallowed a toad whole.

A tiny smile crept onto her lips and she relaxed just a little. “It was back on the first of September,” she said. “I went with Ginny to wave James and Albus off, and —”

“— of course, Scorpius started this year too.”

“Exactly. Draco was there to see him off. Ginny was amazed that he’d left the Manor, but he’s… Gods, Harry, he loves that boy so much.” She paused, recalling Draco's stricken expression as the train had pulled away from the platform, and of his fears about losing Scorpius because of their relationship.

Harry watched her with a quiet intensity for a moment and then asked, “So… Uh… how’d it happen?”

She laughed. “I invited him for a drink at the Leaky, fully expecting him to refuse. I think he surprised himself when he accepted. We had lunch together and honestly…? It was really nice. He’s changed, Harry.”

“I know.”

That surprised her, and she sat up a bit and frowned.

Chuckling softly, Harry ran a hand around the two-day stubble on his jaw. “You remember the attack on the Manor?”

“Little Scorpius yowled in my arms for hours while you questioned his father, Harry. I couldn’t forget that.”

Harry acquiesced with a sideways nod of his head. “Well, he wasn’t the same Malfoy from school in that interview room, Hermione. I don’t know what I was expecting, but when I could get him to focus on something that wasn’t the whereabouts of his son, he was articulate and helpful… Still arrogant and snappy, but…” Harry shook his head. “He’s definitely different.”

Hermione bit her lip to try and stop herself from crying, which failed, and when Harry looked up, his face fell.

“Hermione? What’s wrong?” He set his mug down and rose from his battered old armchair, crossing in two strides to kneel beside hers.

“I was so afraid you wouldn’t understand,” she whispered, shaking and overwhelmed.

All the tension left Harry and he hugged her.

It was awkward because of the furniture, but Harry had always given the best hugs no matter the situation. “You deserve to be happy, Hermione. And you’ve always known your mind. If Malfoy can keep up with you, and keep you happy, then…” he shrugged without letting go, “I’ll support you. If he hurts you though, I will use every curse I’ve ever learned as an Auror on him.”

“Thanks, Harry. You promise you won’t tell anyone yet?”

He nodded.

And then someone cleared their throat from the doorway into the main shop, and Hermione jumped. Harry sprang back, hand going instinctively for his wand, but he stopped when he saw who was standing there.

“Theo!” Hermione exclaimed, smearing the last of her tears off her cheeks. “What are you doing here? I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Too busy sobbing onto dear Potter’s shoulder,” he said without barb. “Everything alright?”

She nodded. “Just getting emotional about something as usual. What’s up?”

“Just came to see if you wanted to grab lunch, but I can see that England’s favourite Auror has returned. How was your trip, Potter?”

“Good,” he said, suddenly every bit the awkward boy he’d been at Hogwarts. “I just finished debriefing and thought I’d stop by for a custard cream and a chat with Hermione before I head home. I’m on leave for a week now.”

“Nice,” Theo smiled. “Any plans?”

Harry shrugged. “A few casual rounds of quidditch with Ron and the others,” he said. “Time with Ginny and Lily. Might pop up to Hogsmeade and see if I can visit James and Albus at the weekend.”

Conversation stalled, and Harry rocked back on his heels before putting his mug down and turning to Hermione.

“Look, I’d better get going,” he said. “But… Come over for dinner this week, alright?”

She nodded. “I’d love that. Tomorrow any good?”

“I’ll check with Ginny, but I can’t see why not. I’ll owl you.” He paused and then grinned. “C’mere,” he said, and pulled her into another enormous hug. With a hand briefly on the back of her head, he murmured, “I won’t tell a soul.”

“Thank you,” she said, squeezing him so hard he wheezed.

“See you, Nott,” Harry said with a polite nod as he left.

Once the bell had fallen silent again, Theo turned to her and crossed his arms loosely over his chest. “Everything alright?” he asked again now that they were alone.

“Yeah,” she said and rolled her eyes. “I told him about Draco and bound him to secrecy. I was so relieved when he took it so well that I just burst into tears.”

Theo laughed at that and finally seemed to relax. “I’m honoured to have known before Potter, then,” he said. “And what, pray, are those?” he added when his eyes landed on the custard creams.

“Muggle biscuits,” she said, picking up the plate and holding it out to him. “They’re delicious.”

Theo looked as if she’d offered him a plate of slugs and held up his hand. “Thanks… I’ll, uh, pass.”

“You’re such a snob, Theodore Nott,” she laughed, bustling off to tidy the mugs and plate away. “What did you want, anyway?”

“Lunch,” he said.

“It’s three in the afternoon,” she countered.

“Mmm. I had a deposition that went on forever. I’m starving.”

“Theo, I do actually have a business to run,” she said. “Isn’t today Dan’s day off? Can’t he go instead?”

“He’s already reserved us a table and is probably halfway through his steak and rioja by now,” Theo groused. “I’ll bring you a doggy bag if we have any leftovers,” he added affectionately.

“Thanks?”

Pausing on the threshold to the back room, Theo fixed her with one of his rare, intense and sincere looks. “I’m glad things worked out with you and Draco. Potter was right; you both deserve to be happy.”

She swallowed thickly, feeling tears prickle at her eyes again. “You won’t tell anyone? He wants to tell Scorpius himself. He doesn’t want it coming from someone else first.”

Theo dragged his thumb across his heart in a cross and nodded. “Drinks on Friday? Draco said he might come.”

“I’ll be there anyway,” she promised, and Theo left with a friendly wink that only he could get away with.

She and Draco continued to see each other, mostly using the seclusion of his London apartment, though they did sometimes go back to hers. There they watched the 1946 Great Expectations. To Hermione’s surprise, however, Draco informed her that it wasn’t his first time seeing a muggle film. That, naturally, led down a whole rabbit hole of questions, ending with the discovery that Draco had built Scorpius a warded playroom inside Malfoy Manor that was shielded from the effects of magic and thus allowed Muggle technology to function perfectly.

“But… you need electricity!” she’d blurted.

Laughing and looking far too smug with himself, Draco said, “Indeed.”

“But… wizarding households don’t have electricity!”

“Granger, you’re glorious when you’re baffled. I must make more efforts to confound that brilliant mind of yours more often.”

“Tell me!” she’d shrilled, pinching him in the ribs as they sat on the sofa together with the end credits rolling away in the background. When he’d just sat back with his mouth quirked into an infuriating smirk, she had straddled him and raked her fingers through the slightly shorter hair just above his hears on either side of his head, scrunching the silver-white waves until he’d groaned and bucked upwards slightly into her. “Tell me, Draco Malfoy, or no more kisses.”

“You drive a hard bargain, my beautiful, brilliant witch,” he purred, slightly breathless as she continued to hold him in her grasp, head tilted back a little, throat exposed. His hands landed reverently on her hips and he closed his eyes, clearly enjoying the contact.

Naturally, Hermione kissed him on the lips and he smiled. “Perpetual shock charm,” he said when she drew back. “I made a generator.”

“That’s… That’s so simple it’s genius. But surely you had to look up —?”

“I’m fairly certain I could get a job as a muggle ‘electrician’ now,” he snickered, chasing after more kisses. “But I choose not to.”

“What do you do with yourself all day?” she asked. “Running Malfoy Manor and the estate can’t take up all your time, surely?”

He went a little tense beneath her at that and then chuckled, embarrassed. “I… I’m on the board of a number of charities,” he said, “And I’m currently conducting research into a number areas in the field of Potions. I did a postal course to get my NEWTs in Potions, and shortly after that, attained my masters.”

“Huh,” she said, sitting back a bit. She reached down and brought his hands up in front of her. Pressing a kiss to each of his scar-flecked knuckles, she murmured, “That explains a lot. You’ve got the hands of a potion-master, Draco.”

“Too many spills and accidents,” he snorted. “And not enough dragon hide gloves.”

“What are you researching?”

“A number of projects,” he said evasively.

“Come on,” she laughed, dropping his hands again and beginning to nuzzle at his jawline and neck. He was utterly weak to that, she’d discovered to her absolute delight, and she was not above using it to her advantage. Beneath her, he shivered and went limp, turning his head with a sigh of pleasure as she raked her teeth over his pulse and then kissed him.

“I’m working on… ah… on a recipe that… oh gods, Granger…”

“Go on,” she crooned.

“A recipe to make the wolfsbane potion commercially viable,” he panted.

At that, she did pause, but only for a moment. Next thing Draco knew, Hermione had flung her arms around his neck and was squeezing the life out of him like a boa constrictor.

“Granger?”

She just shook her head, thinking of what Remus Lupin would say if he knew what Draco was working on now on behalf of his kind. “Why?” she eventually croaked without removing her face from the crook of Draco’s neck.

His hands skated gently up and down her back, the heat simmering back down to something calmer; something fond and affectionate. “Because,” he fairly growled, “Fenrir Greyback tormented my mother when he lived with us at the Manor, and I had no idea that werewolves could be functioning members of society with the right help until I met Remus Lupin. It was just another area where if I’d only known more at the time, it would have made so much difference to my perception of things.”

He sighed and kissed the side of her head.

“I can make a difference now. I’ve got a state of the art potions lab in one of the dungeons at the Manor, and Severus left his entire collection of books and notes to me in his will. He must have known I always wanted to be a potions master, even when I didn’t think I’d live beyond the end of that awful year…”

That was probably the longest continuous speech from Draco she’d heard since they’d started seeing each other, and the emotion in his voice, lingering beneath the surface like a hidden current, moved her deeply.

“You’re a wonderful man, Draco,” she whispered as she kissed his temple. “I wish the world could see you for who you are now…”

“You see me,” he said very quietly. “That’s enough.”

___

To be continued! Don’t forget to let me know what you think, and help a relative newbie (at least to contributing anyway) to the fandom out by reblogging!

writing masterlist | Ao3

[keijifairy]

meeting your younger sibling 〃

♡ midoriya izuku, bakugou katsuki, todoroki shouto

genre. fluff!!!

author's note. i recently watched heroes rising and im still so 🥺 the big three as big brothers (and mayhaps dad! katsuki hngngngnggggg) makes me hella emotional so i made this <3

༘ midoriya izuku

you had to stay home and miss classes to look over your younger brother for the day

you informed your boyfriend izuku in advance, and he even wrote you notes on everything you missed :(

after a tiring school day had ended, he packed his things + a cute extra notebook for your notes and doodles that never failed to put a smile on your face

he quickly changes from his school uniform, planning to head over to your house to check up on you, not forgetting to ask you beforehand

he comes over and is immediately greeted with an embrace from you as soon as you open the door

his poor heart is still not used to the abundance of affection you shower him with, and he always makes sure to return it back (though with more stuttering and heat in his cheeks)

"go ahead, i'll get us some food." you tell him, as he enters your home, already disappearing into the kitchen

it's the first time he's meeting your little brother, and he spots him quietly laying on his stomach at the living room, and coloring on an all might coloring book

he goes 🥺🥺🥺

your brother looks up, a yellow crayon in his hand as he makes eye contact with a gushing izuku

the latter introduces himself, his eyes twinkling and a soft smile stretched in his lips. "hello!! i'm izuku~!"

your brother only tilts his head and blinks without a word, and casually averts his attention back to his coloring book

he takes the book in his hands, standing up and quietly walks in front of your boyfriend who is crouched to match his height

the child holds up the coloring book, a page of an unfinished colored portrait of all might shown, beside izuku's head

izuku only giggled, confused but isn't too bothered, as he's too focused on the cuteness of your brother. 

he's obviously already attached !!

"you…" the five year old trails off, with wonder glinting in his eyes as he averts his gaze back and forth between the drawing of all might and the boy in front of him. "look like a good hero."

izuku swears his heart started melting

your brother has always looked up to heroes, like izuku was (and still is) ever since he was a little child. your brother's always so excited to hear you talk about being a hero in training, and of course, he's aware about the stories of deku. you always talked about him like the greatest hero in the world with sparkles in your eyes

to hear a little kid casually complimenting him like that had izuku's heart go all 💞

before he could even utter a response, your brother takes his hand, making izuku stand up, letting himself get gently dragged to the spot the child was on

your brother lays back on his stomach, snatching a blue crayon from the ground and pointing it to your boyfriend

"want to color with me?"

you coo silently to yourself, hiding in the kitchen as you press the camera button to capture the nth photo that is set to be your lock screen

༘ bakugou katsuki

'how do u make a baby sleep'

'??? tf should i know'

katsuki may not be the best quiet person to be around a baby, but you're desperate and tired and your baby sister just isn't at all !!

so ten minutes before your boyfriend's bed time and way past your sister's, you had managed to bug him enough to come over your house and help you put her to sleep

your hair is a mess, baby food is splattered on your shirt, and your eyebags are deepening (school works have been piling up), and the first thing katsuki tells you as he steps into your house is, "you look like shit."

you only roll your eyes, a yawn escaping your lips. "thanks, i'm flattered."

your sister is wailing like the baby she is, as she wildy waves around the empty milk bottle in her hand. toys are littered on the floor and baby powder is spilled on the kitchen counter at some point. it looks like a hurricane had passed by your house !

"what were you feeding her?" 

"baby food and two bottles of milk." you sigh, taking the bottle from her hand to wash it

you look over at him, a tired smile straining your lips. "sorry i asked you to come over so late, katsuki." 

"here," his eyes darted everywhere to the walls to avoid your curious eyes, as he gently shoves a plastic of food into your hands. "you can't sleep on an empty stomach."

is he....blushing...?

you take the plastic, the sleep in your face disappearing, your smile widening as you shuffle through its contents. "...and diapers?"

he scoffs, and you're absolutely correct; his cheeks are flushed! "just in case you ran out or something..."

"awww, thank youuu." you giggle, and katsuki clicks his tongue , mumbling a whatever like the tsundere but big softie inside he is

you ask him if he wants to hold your baby sister, and with a sigh, he does

he doesn't want to tell you that he can't bear to see you tiring yourself. as soon as he saw you so worn out and not getting enough sleep like you promised him, he felt his heart clenching painfully. so whatever it is, he'll always do anything for you (even if he acts so annoyed and reluctant most of the time)

there's that constant furrow of his brows and scowl in his lips, but when her cries suddenly cease and her tiny hand holds up to cover his whole thumb as she looks at him with her pretty doe eyes, you see how his own soften and how he seems to freeze for a split second

from the shape of your brows, and to the curve of your cupid's bow, your adorable baby sister truly resembles you

and katsuki found himself silently admiring her, as he sneakily catches a glimpse of you in the corner of his eye, in utter disbelief and amazement on how her eyes slowly flutters shut in the arms of the normally loud boy

you stand there at the corner, breathing out a soft laugh 

he's going to be a great dad, you just know it

this is what i like to call jay is whipped for kacchan <3

༘ todoroki shouto

shouto had asked you out on a date today, but unfortunately, your parents had left the house and asked you to look over your eight year old sister

'i'm so sorry i bailed on you, shouto :( do you wanna hang out at my house instead tho haha 👉👈'

baby boy was really understanding, and quickly agreed to move your little date at home instead

'it's fine. at least i still get to see you.'

while waiting for shouto to come over, you just couldn't help but brag about the best boyfriend ever to your little sister

you showed her your whole album of photos of shouto: confused selfies with a blush on his cheeks, stolen shots of him literally doing anything, and photographs you had taken of him during dates. what a model

"i don't think he's your boyfriend." your sister deadpans, eyebrow raising suspiciously at you

you snickered, basically shoving your phone at her face; a photo taken by ashido of shouto silently fixing the strands of hair framing your face as he stood in front of you, while you only sat there, staring at him with hearts in your eyes aka your lock screen 🥰

she only shrugs, pushing the phone away. "maybe it's edited."

"WHY YOU LITT—"

ding dong

did i fail to mention that even though your sister seemed utterly fazed by the perfection called your boyfriend, she was already dressed in her elsa costume from halloween and even had the audacity to use your makeup? you only narrowed your eyes at her as she smugly presented herself to you

she's unusually quiet now though, trailing after you as you open the door and greet the man himself

"my love, my darling, my angel~" you beam innocently at a dumbfounded shouto at your doorstep. he surely wasn't expecting such an affectionate greeting, with the hue of pink painting his cheeks making him so obvious

"hello….my love…darling….angel…" he looked so adorably confused, eyes blinking owlishly and the corners of his lips tugging up slightly

"come in~"

as he enters, he quickly notices your little sister clinging on your legs, innocently gazing up at him with her mouth agape

"hello…" 

"are you really my sister's boyfriend?" she blurts out, shamelessly pointing at you with a bewildered look on her face

he's unbothered though, nodding swiftly and meeting your eyes. "yes."

"why?" oh, she is so going to get it !!!

shouto blinks, averting his gaze fully to you with confusion swirling in his eyes

"because i like her."

"but why?" "stop—"

"because…" his cheeks had gone a full shade of red, but his face remained still, not removing his gaze at you. "she's beautiful and kind."

your heart is beating a bit too loud for your liking hahaha

your sister cranes her neck to look up at you, squinting her eyes in disbelief and you gasp, obviously offended. "you believe me now?"

"only because he's—" she lowers her voice, cutely puffing out her cheeks—"cute."

"you are so—"

"let it go, sis."

long story short, let's just say your competition for shouto todoroki just got added by one (1) evil elsa wannabe sister.

[fanimesenseiwrites]

Kidnapped to Hell (pt. 18)

Hoshiko led Lucifer to the library once they got back to the house.

Lucifer opened the concealed passage to his study. "We can talk in here if you prefer."

Hoshiko nodded as they headed into the study. "It'll be more private if we're still talking by the time everyone else gets home."

"My thoughts exactly," Lucifer concurred before following Hoshiko into the study and closing the door behind him.

Hoshiko sat down in one of the wingback chairs and hummed.

Lucifer smiled slightly and sat next to Hoshiko in the other chair. "What is it?"

Hoshiko looked at him. "You know, your study is actually a special place for me."

Lucifer raised an eyebrow. "It is?"

Hoshiko nodded. "This is where we made our pact."

"It is indeed, we also shared our first kiss in here," Lucifer added.

"Our first time may not have been in here but we've had some pretty great sex in here too," Hoshiko reminded him with a grin.

Lucifer chuckled and shook his head. "Yes, yes we have."

Hoshiko smiled at Lucifer's grin, glad to see him more relaxed than he had appeared the past couple days.

Lucifer smiled back at Hoshiko and leaned back into his chair.

Hoshiko slipped off their shoes and pulled their feet into their chair, getting comfortable for what they expected to be a long conversation. "So..."

Lucifer perked up, recognizing that tone to indicate that Hoshiko wanted to talk. "Yes?"

Hoshiko looked at Lucifer. "Firstly, I wanted to apologize for how... hostile I've been towards you these past couple days. I've also been pretty hypocritical in regards to you and that wasn't fair of me, and I'm sorry."

Lucifer nodded. "I accept your apology. I understand now why you acted like that."

"I'm glad that you do. For as mad as I was at you, I was even more terrified that you didn't love me anymore," Hoshiko confessed.

Lucifer frowned. "Whatever would give you that idea?"

"Well, you didn't save me. And then you didn't even go down to the eight circles to get me, and then you just seemed so... distant, especially compared to your brothers."

"I'm sorry you felt that way, but I assure that everything I did was in your best interest... at least, I thought it was."

Hoshiko nodded. "Can you explain to me your perspective? Because I need to understand too."

Lucifer nodded. "Of course. I assumed that there would be time later for comforting you, I needed to do what I could to make sure you were safe first."

Hoshiko sighed. "Not that I don't appreciate that, but you could've taken a little time to come talk to me. I think that would've saved us both a headache."

"Well, why didn't you come talk to me? It's obvious that you were holding in your feelings for a while now," Lucifer asked.

Hoshiko puffed out their cheeks and looked away.

"See? It's not so easy when you're the one under the microscope," Lucifer teased.

Hoshiko sighed. "... we're more alike than we care to admit sometimes," Hoshiko's accent came out with their last sentence.

"Hm, I was wondering if that was going to rear its head," Lucifer commented on the appearance of Hoshiko's accent.

Hoshiko looked at him. "I'm so sorry," they told him sarcastically.

"I didn't mean that to be derogatory, I just know your accent tends to show face when you're upset."

"Yeah, I know you know."

"Is it so bad to know and be like each other?" Lucifer asked, sensing Hoshiko's growing annoyance.

"It is if you're not going to use that knowledge to your advantage," Hoshiko argued.

"We," Lucifer corrected.

"Excuse me?" Hoshiko asked, genuinely confused.

"We should use the knowledge that we are like each other to both of our advantages. If I am willing to admit my faults in this incident to you, then you need to do the same to me," Lucifer bargained.

Hoshiko shifted in their seat, uncomfortable with Lucifer calling them out and him being right about it.

Lucifer watched Hoshiko, waiting for them to respond.

Hoshiko sighed and looked at him. "You're right... I apologized for not treating you right, but I had a inkling of how you'd act and I used that to make things harder rather than make them easier."

Lucifer nodded. "Thank you for saying so."

Hoshiko sighed. "Yeah, yeah..."

"But why would you self-sabotage like that?"

"Why would you assume you had a nightmare about me being in danger and then worry about me anyways? But then still not do anything about it?" Hoshiko counter asked.

Lucifer opened his mouth to say something but stopped himself.

"Uh huh," was Hoshiko's only comment, obviously feeling vindicated.

Lucifer huffed. "I thought you wanted to talk in order to make things better," he reminded them.

"You would've done the same thing," Hoshiko pointed out.

Lucifer sighed.

Hoshiko sighed as well. "I'm sorry..."

"I forgive you," Lucifer replied.

Hoshiko got up and walked over to Lucifer and sat down in his lap, straddling him and taking his face into their hands. "Let's try again."

Lucifer nodded and grabbed Hoshiko's hands with either of his.

"I love you a lot, Lucifer," Hoshiko started. "I... I got really scared when you didn't come save me, especially once I knew you did get my message. I thought you didn't love me anymore, I was afraid you didn't care... and so I immediately retreated away from you, even when I so desperately wanted to be comforted by you."

Lucifer moved his hands down to Hoshiko's waist and wrapped his arms around them.

"Then Solomon told me what you had assumed and I saw your text and I got so mad," Hoshiko continued. "I thought that you were either an idiot or you had let your pride come before me. Either way, I thought it was cowardly."

Lucifer grimaced at that.

"Yeah, I know. But that was how I felt. I understand that I probably could've saved us both some heartache if I had just talked to you, but... I just couldn't. I didn't want to, I wanted you to suffer like I had suffered. Which, I know is so fucked up but..." Hoshiko sighed. "I dunno."

"Yes you do," Lucifer goaded gently.

Hoshiko half-heartedly glared at him. "Don't you go sounding like my therapist."

Lucifer chuckled. "I want to hear everything. Just keep talking."

Hoshiko nodded. "Speaking of my therapist, I know I do have a habit of looking for trouble..."

"Yes, you do," Lucifer agreed.

"Hush you," Hoshiko told Lucifer as they smacked his chest playfully.

Lucifer chuckled.

"Anyways," Hoshiko continued. "My therapist told me that she sees this a lot in people who have been abused long term. They don't know what to do if they're not dealing with a crisis, so even when they finally get to a good place they may create their own problems because they just don't know anything else... so I guess I do that sometimes. That's why I self-sabotage... and I'm working on it, but it takes more than just a couple therapy sessions to fix it."

Lucifer nodded. "I see."

Hoshiko suddenly got nervous at Lucifer's lack of words.

Lucifer pecked his lips against their's. "Thank you for telling me, and I'm proud of you for trying."

Hoshiko teared up. "Don't tell me that."

Lucifer frowned and reached up to stroke their cheek. "Why not?"

"Because I'll get all emotional if you do, I don't do well with praise," they whined.

Lucifer chuckled. "I know, but you need to get used to it."

Hoshiko huffed. "It's your turn," they reminded him, trying to change the subject.

"Right." Lucifer glanced away, wondering where he should start.

Hoshiko waited for him to start, but when they grew impatient they asked: "Why did you think me contacting you was just a nightmare?"

Lucifer sighed. He didn't look at Hoshiko as he spoke. "... It is not uncommon for me to dream of you in danger."

Hoshiko blinked. "Oh. I didn't know..."

"Yes, though I will admit that this experience was different from my typical nightmares. I suppose I just didn't really think about how different it was until it was already too late."

Hoshiko nodded.

"By the time I had learned that Diavolo and my brothers were anxious and worried as well, we contacted Solomon, and then Barbatos came to tell us where you were. I assumed he had looked into the past and saw you being abducted."

Hoshiko nodded and glanced away, feeling a little uncomfortable at the thought of that.

"And then Diavolo instructed everyone on what to do, he had Barbatos and Satan go down with him to the Eight Circles... and he asked me to stay and keep my brothers calm and prepare for you to be brought back home."

"So that's why you didn't come..." Hoshiko sighed as tears welled up in their eyes.

Lucifer frowned. "What is it?"

"I just..." Hoshiko sighed. "Some times I forget that Diavolo isn't just our friend, he's the crown prince... the future king... your boss essentially. So when he tells you do something and you just do it, I get frustrated sometimes... I feel like you chose him over me."

Lucifer immediately opened his mouth to argue, but Hoshiko cut him off.

"I know it's not that simple, I'm just telling you how I feel... I know, I just have to get over it."

Lucifer nodded and stroked Hoshiko's cheek. "Were this a less dire situation, I would have insisted to go with him... but I didn't want to delay your rescue any more."

Hoshiko nodded. "Yeah, I guess that was a good idea..."

Lucifer smiled slightly. "What else can I do to ease your mind?"

Hoshiko looked away. "So, earlier... ya know, when we were fightin' and arguin', you implied that I... when I die, I'll..." They were obviously very uncomfortable with saying it out loud.

"I shouldn't have said that, that was out of line, even if we were already heated. I'm sorry," Lucifer promptly apologized.

"That's fine, but is it true?" Hoshiko asked, suddenly concerned about their fate.

"No... at least not anymore," Lucifer assured them. "That did used to be the default when the Devildom and celestial realm were actively at war with each other. But that was one of the first things Diavolo changed when he started working to foster peace between the three realms... though I never felt the need to verify it until now."

Hoshiko nodded and glanced away.

Lucifer stroked Hoshiko's cheek.

Hoshiko leaned into his touch and looked back at him.

"I'd be lying if I said I was just a hundred percent better and okay with everything's that's happened, but I am better."

Lucifer nodded once. "That makes sense, I think I understand."

Hoshiko smiled slightly. "I'm glad, thank you."

Lucifer kissed the top of their head. "You're welcome."

Hoshiko yawned. "Okay, I think it's time for bed."

"I agree." Lucifer stood up, and carried Hoshiko.

"Oh!" Hoshiko wrapped their arms around Lucifer's neck. "Thank you."

"Anything for you, Starlight," he told Hoshiko as he carried them to their room.

Hoshiko hummed quietly.

Lucifer took Hoshiko into their room and straight to their bathroom and set them on the counter.

"Why didn't you put me in bed?" Hoshiko asked with a small pout.

"You need to take off your makeup first," Lucifer insisted as he grabbed a cotton ball and the eye-makeup remover.

Hoshiko sighed. "I don't want to but you're right."

Lucifer smirked. "Yes, now close your eyes."

Hoshiko just did as they were told.

Lucifer gently and methodically removed all of Hoshiko's makeup for them.

Hoshiko looked at him and smiled when he was finished. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. If you'll take off your dress, I'll hang it up for you," Lucifer offered.

"You just want to see me naked," Hoshiko teased as they stood up off the counter.

Lucifer chuckled. "While that is always a delight, I do not intend to act on that tonight."

"Good. Because I need to sleep tonight," Hoshiko reminded him as they took off their dress and handed it to him.

"I know you do," Lucifer replied before taking the dress and going to hang it up.

Hoshiko walked into their bedroom and put on their night gown before climbing into their bed.

Lucifer walked over and sat on the edge of the bed. "Is there anything else I can do for you to help you sleep more comfortably?"

"Don't let any of your brothers wake me up," Hoshiko commanded.

Lucifer chuckled. "No one will disturb you, I promise."

Hoshiko nodded and got comfortable in bed.

"Alright," Lucifer started as he stood up. "I'll leave you be."

"Thanks. Good night."

"Good night, sleep well."

"I think I actually will tonight," Hoshiko told him as they snuggled further into their blanket.

Lucifer chuckled softly as he turned off the light. "Good night," he reiterated before walking out and closing the door behind him.

Hoshiko hummed quietly to themself and closed their eyes. They didn't take long to fall asleep, and for the first time in a few days they stayed asleep.

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18

[chelsfic]

Leftovers Part 9 - Nandor the Relentless x Reader Fanfic

Previous parts: Masterlist

A/N: Quick note-- most roller derby leagues don’t actually take a break from practicing during the off-season *shrug.* Hey, hey, hey, guys? Let me know what you think! I am an ACTUAL ENERGY VAMPIRE, but I feed off your kind words and support--love you!

Summary: Nandor is on the reader’s shit list, but will they reunite when a minor medical emergency pops up? (yes)

Warnings: Female Reader-insert, Angst, Medical shit (migraines, lasting effects of the vamp attack at the rave), Hypnotism

---

“Guillermooo! I’m ready for my slumber now!” Nandor bellows, standing impatiently by his open coffin and waiting for his familiar to arrive so he can complete his bedtime routine.

Guillermo appears, huffing and puffing, a moment later, “I’m sorry, master! I forgot…”

“Well, that’s unacceptable, Guillermo!,” Nandor whines with a scowl. “You’re my familiar. It’s your job to remember these things. You’d think after five years--”

“Eleven,” Guillermo interjects with a pained smile. “Eleven years, master.”

Nandor looks momentarily shocked before regaining his momentum, “Okay...Eleven years… Fine. You’d think that you would remember to come and help me get ready for bed. It’s not that difficult.”

Guillermo lets the scolding roll off his back. He knows his master is hurting. In truth, Nandor hasn’t wanted Guillermo’s help at bedtime in weeks. It’s only now that his coffin is feeling a little lonely that he’s reverting back to his old ways. Guillermo rushes to untie his master’s cravat and helps him slip off the heavy cape. The vampire looks temporarily mollified.

“Very well,” Nandor sniffs, taking Guillermo’s hand as he steps up into the coffin. “I forgive you.”

“Thank you, master,” Guillermo smiles lightly and moves to take hold of the coffin’s lid. Nandor suddenly reaches up to stop him.

“Guillermo…” he fidgets and avoids eye contact as he asks, “Do you think she’ll be angry with me for much longer?”

Guillermo looks down at his master, feeling contrary ties of loyalty tugging on him as he decides what to say.

In the end he takes pity on Nandor, reaching down to pat his soft hair and murmuring, “I’m sure she’ll forgive you soon, master.”

“Thank you, Guillermo,” Nandor sighs, shutting his eyes and crossing his hands over his chest. “You’re a good familiar.”

He gently closes the lid, feeling a happy swell in his chest despite his concern. It’s been a few days since the orgy and his friend still hasn’t shown any signs of forgiving Nandor. He knows she’s hurt, but Guillermo silently hopes things will smooth over soon. An angsty vampire makes for an unhappy familiar.

---

After Nandor let you out of the basement you ran to the shower, dousing yourself in steaming water to chase the chill out of your body. But no matter how many hot showers or layers of clothing you put on, you can’t ever seem to warm up. At least not on the inside. In the span of just a few days you’ve gone from the heights of happiness to the dumps of misery. The worst part is that you’re not even angry anymore. You’re numb to it. All you want is to fall back into Nandor’s arms and let him make you feel good like no one else has.

But…

It’s not that he slept with who knows how many people at the orgy. It’s not even that he locked you in a basement and forgot about you. It’s that he treated you like a thing. Like his possession, whose feelings and thoughts are insignificant in the face of almost eight hundred years of immortal life. For a little while Nandor made you feel special, and then he’d gone and ruined it.

You don’t even have your usual outlet! Bout season is over and practice won’t start up again for another month. And to make matters even better: all this drama seems to be aggravating your stupid brain because, for the first time in weeks, you’re feeling the dragging ache in your head left by the vampire attack at the rave. It’s been a dull, throbbing pain for a couple days now, but tonight it’s grown into a pulsing, stomach-churning migraine. You lock yourself up in your room with the lights off. The housemates probably assume you’re brooding over Nandor. But mostly...you’re just in pain. And scared.

It’s after midnight and the pain shows no signs of diminishing. You finally drag yourself out of your room, squinting blearily against the blinding glare of the candlelight, and seeking out one of the two licensed drivers in the house.

---

“The closest urgent care is on Richmond, but according to the Google reviews, we’ll have shorter wait times if we drive a bit farther to the one on Victory Boulevard. Of course, it’s entirely up to you but--”

“Colin,” you interrupt, your voice barely above a whisper, “can you please take me to the closest one and maybe try to resist the urge to feed? I already feel like shit.”

Colin pauses, tightening his fingers on the steering wheel and saying, quietly, “I wasn’t...I was just trying to be helpful.”

You immediately feel guilty and then you question if, in fact, he’s still feeding. Being friends with an energy vampire is...draining.

He drives you to the urgent care, walking inside the crowded waiting area with you and taking charge of your intake paperwork. Okay, now you could kiss him, because bureaucracy is like Colin’s native language and you’re pretty sure he uses some of his power to manipulate the staff into getting you seen sooner. In under an hour you’re leaving with a prescription and feeling a little less anxious about the possibility that you might drop dead from an aneurysm. 

You’re pulling out of the pharmacy parking lot and back out onto the road when a small, squeaking, flying thing suddenly soars through your open window and erupts in the backseat, transforming into your dark, sullen vampire lover. 

You shriek in alarm, looking out the window and noting the lightening sky on the horizon. Your heart jumps up into your throat, “Nandor! What are you doing, it’s almost daybreak!”

Nandor sits forward in his seat and leans in close to you as he speaks, “Guillermo told me you have been to the human medical shamans! What is wrong, my human?”

“It’s...nothing, Nandor. I’ll be fine. I had a bad migraine,” you mumble. You’re too exhausted to be having this conversation.

Nandor continues, unphased, “Then you should have come to me, not fucking Colin Robinson!”

“Why?” you blurt out, suddenly done with avoiding the hurt you’ve been dwelling in for days. “Because you care about me? Or because I’m your property?”

Nandor looks bewildered, “You are my human…”

You shake your head violently, turning away in your seat with an angry growl.

“...And I do care, my love…”

Sighing, you fix your eyes on the metal guardrail at the side of the road as it flashes by. Colin Robinson is sitting rigid in the driver’s seat, beaming as he gulps down the emotions flooding the vehicle. Nandor reaches out to curl his fingers through your hair just as the first rays of sunlight break over the horizon.

“Nandor, the sun!” you cry, all thoughts of your hurt and anger flying from your head. You turn around in your seat to lock eyes with your lover for one meaningful instant before he transforms into his bat form. 

You scramble for the purse at your feet, upending it onto the floor before holding it up and frantically gesturing to the flapping little bat in the backseat. 

“Get in, baby!” you plead, uncertain of how much communication actually gets through in this form.

You breathe a shaky sigh of relief as Nandor flies into the bag, curling up at the bottom with a frightened squeak. 

“Fucking hell,” you mumble. Your heart is racing in your chest. Cautiously, you open the purse to peer inside at the furry, winged creature who is...your boyfriend. You reach in and gingerly stroke your fingers over his little head. The bat’s teeth close on one finger in an affectionate, soft bite. “You’re okay now…”

Colin Robinson pulls up outside the house and turns to you with his eyes blazing, “Well, this has been quite the night!”

---

You carry Bat-Nandor into his room, taking him out of your bag and gently placing him in the fur-lined coffin. Even though you’re expecting it, you can’t help but jump back when he transforms before your eyes. You’re still not used to witnessing actual magic. 

He looks up at you with a look that’s all soft, liquid eyes and remorseful submission. 

“Will you stay with me?” he asks diffidently, toying with a tuft of rich fur on the coffin lining. “Please?”

You weigh your options. On the one hand you really miss falling asleep in Nandor’s strong arms, with the comforting scent of him wrapped around your body like a blanket. And when you pause for a moment you realize that the ache in your head hasn’t bothered you since he flew into Colin Robinson’s car. 

On the other hand…

“Is there anything you want to say to me, first?” you prompt, arching your brow expectantly. 

Nandor swallows his pride, thinking back to those horrible days when Guillermo left him for fucking Celeste. He sits up and takes your hand in his as he says, “I’m sorry I treated you like a belonging and not a person. I appreciate you very much. And I--I love you. And also, I’m sorry for forgetting about you and Guillermo in the basement…it probably won’t happen again.”

You let out a laugh, tears stinging your eyes as you reply, “I love you too, Nandor. And...I’m sorry, too. I don’t even care anymore about the stupid orgy anymore. But I should have...tried to understand it more. I think.”

Nandor sits up, grasping your face between his hands and pulling you in closer. 

“I wanted you with me at my side, my mortal,” he hisses, dropping little kisses onto your lips. “One day you will be. I’ll make you a vampire and together we will be the life of every vampire orgy. We’ll feast on virgin blood and make love until the end of time.”

Before you can form anything approaching a reaction, he claims your mouth with his, sucking your lower lip and pushing his tongue forward to tangle with yours. You cling to the fur collar of his coat, hanging on for dear life as your knees go weak. Every time you kiss it feels like you’re diving into a hot spring, losing yourself so deliciously to the sensation of his touch.

“You want that don’t you, my mortal?” he pants against your lips, reaching down to casually lift you off your feet and settle you on his lap. “Immortal life? Immortal love?”

He pauses kissing you and you rest your cheek against the top of his head, enjoying the soft brush of his hair against your skin. Do you want that? To be a vampire? To never see the sun again? To drink blood to live? To never say goodbye to this beautiful, idiot man you seem to love?

“Yes, Nandor,” you murmur, pressing your lips into his hair and breathing his scent. “I do.”

He leans his head back and kisses you once more, running his lips over your cheeks, your jaw, the long column of your exposed throat.

“Uhm!” you interrupt, a little panicked. “But not this minute, right? You have to give me some warning…”

Nandor chuckles, smoothing his hands up and down your back in reassurance.

“No, mortal. Dawn isn’t exactly an ideal time to make a new vampire…”

“Oh...okay, good,” you sigh, settling down into his arms once more. “Because I have one condition…”

---

A little while later, you’re sealed up, snug as a bug in Nandor’s coffin, with his arms wrapped around you and your face tucked into the crook of his neck. You press a kiss to his cool skin and his chest rumbles with a satisfied purr. For the first time in hours and hours your skull doesn’t feel like it’s about to crack in two and you ponder the reason for that. Of course, like all vampires, Nandor has the power of hypnosis. Maybe his very presence has a soothing effect? Like he transmits a frequency that cancels out whatever that asshole did to you?

“Nandor?” you whisper, unsure if he’s fallen asleep yet or not.

“Yes, my mortal?” he answers at once, tightening his arms around you.

“When I’m with you my head doesn’t hurt so bad… But, do you think--do you think that vampire did some kind of...lasting damage?” the question has been on the back of your mind ever since the attack but you’ve been too afraid to give a voice to your worry. 

A low growl escapes his throat as he replies, “That shit chicken vampire hurt you because he can’t even hypnotize correctly.”

“But...” you pause, steeling yourself. Are you really about to put this level of trust in him? “You can fix it, can’t you?”

Nandor pauses, swallowing down a lump of nerves as he considers. He wants nothing more than to make you feel better. But there was the time he and Laszlo gave Sean the brain scramblies…

But this time would be different. He would be so, so gentle. So careful…

He raises the lid of the coffin, sitting up and pulling you with him. A few candles still flicker from the tables around the room, forgotten in his eagerness to have you in his arms. Nandor’s pale skin glows faintly in the low light, the lines of his body lost in shadows. 

“Look into my eyes, little human,” he commands, his voice is deep and drawling. 

You obey, looking up at him as your body visibly trembles. You’re frightened.

“Shh,” Nandor hushes, running his hands up your arms and settling them onto your shoulders. “I’m going to take care of you.”

You nod, remembering how fragile and weak he’d felt when you’d carried his bat-form in your hands. You can give him the same trust. You can put yourself in his hands now and know that he won’t hurt you.

His dark eyes burn with intensity as he continues, “You are now under my command…”

---

A/N: I require CAKES AND CREAMS!! Candies and streamers and sticky, sticky toffee! Actually I just need some soft comments because I AGONIZED over this??!?!?!?! 

Tags:

@festering-queen @kandomeresbitch @strangestdiary @glitterportrait @scuzmunkie @redwoodshadows @sarasxe​ @rileyomalley​

[julemmaes]

“What are you smiling about?” Prompt for acotar, Nesta and Cassian❤️✨

You fucking tease

Cassian and Nesta Archeron modern au

“What are you smiling about?”

Hope you like it cause I’ve had so much fun writing it and it’s kinda different from what I’m used to write so, yep. I don’t think it’s “complete” so feel free to send other prompts if you’d like a part two. I’ll gladly write that too;)

edit: part two is here and it’s just plain smut, if you wanna read it:)

Word count: 2,132

Nesta was having the best day of her life.

Normally she would have passed in front of all her colleagues with that cold look and that calculated impassive expression on her face, but today she couldn't stop smiling, showing her perfect white teeth. She was also tremendously distracted, too excited by the news she had just received and the fact that her boss had given her the rest of the day off to celebrate. Perhaps that was why while she hurried to her office she almost tripped over one of the interns, who apologized immediately noting who had bumped into him. Nesta smiled more widely, apologizing in turn, and the boy went pale.

Once in her office, she quickly took her things and sent a message to Cassian, warning him that they were going out for dinner that night and that she had some good news to share. The message was read immediately, but she received no immediate response, as she normally did with her husband, which caused her to frown. She shook her head, grinning, thinking he must have been with a client.

She greeted her secretary, who, having recovered from the woman's ambiguous behavior, waved back.

She walked out of the building and raised her hand to stop one of the hundreds of cabs that were parked in front of her office and once she was sitting down and after giving the address to the driver, she picked up the phone again, to check if Cassian had answered. He had not.

Not wanting to dwell too much on why her husband ignored her, she decided to open the group chat with her sisters.

Biiig news coming! Wanna go out tomorrow night for drinks?

The answers of both of them didn't take long to arrive and Nesta felt a wave of affection towards her little sisters. They had always been very supportive and caring of each other and every time something good happened, after their respective husbands, they were always the first to be told everything. Their relationship had never been perfect, but they had always been there for the big events and Nesta wanted to shout to the whole world what had just happened.

From Feyruh: Oh my! You got promoted?

From E-lame: I told you you'd get the promotion. I'm free after seven.

Nesta simply answered with a smiley face to Feyre and told them both that she would pick them up after she left work. They then talked about this and that and only when the cab stopped and the driver turned towards her did she realize that she had arrived at her destination. She paid the man and made a quick run to cross the street, immediately entering the bright studio with the neon sign reading "Night's Brothers". As soon as she entered she saw Amren at the counter and the girl gave her a confused and worried look.

"What on earth happened to you girl? You look like the joker, god." Nesta started laughing, as she couldn't help but smile. Amren seemed to shiver at the sound, "No, seriously-" then she added under her voice, "-are you under the effect of any acid?"

"No, you idiot." Nesta chuckled as she sat on the welcome couch, crossing her legs. "I've been promoted," she said quietly, unable to keep the emotion in her voice.

Amren opened her mouth wide, getting up and going to settle down next to her friend. "Are you serious?" Nesta nodded, almost squeaking. "It was about time they realized your talent and acted on it." They exchanged a quick hug and then Nesta asked her how much more Cassian had. She couldn't wait to tell him.

" He should be done in half an hour with the client and then he has a couple of girls for piercings so I don't know how much longer he's going to be." Amren explained to her, getting up to check their calendar. Nesta puffed, making a grimace and interrupting her joyful motion that had been going on for hours now.

She sighed, getting up in turn and heading for the exit, " Alright, could you tell him that I'm already at home and that I'll be waiting for him at 8:30, please? Amren nodded, waving goodbye, and then Nesta walked to the right just to stop me two doors away from the tattoo studio.

Cassian and Rhysand had moved into that apartment right after high school and when Rhysand had moved out, going to live with the Archeron sisters to spend more time with Feyre, Nesta couldn't stand the constant nocturnal make-out sessions and exasperated she had asked Cassian if he could host her until she found a place to stay on her own. How Elain managed to survive in that house for another four months was still a mystery to the elder sister.

After a few weeks of living together, Nesta had discovered that Cassian was one of the neatest and organized people she had ever met. He never brought girls home when she was around and respected her personal space, something completely unknown to Nesta, who had only ever lived with her sisters. They had bonded so much and became best friends in a very short time. Not that they had a bad relationship before, but now it was much stronger. When after two months Cassian had asked her how much longer she was planning to stay, she had panicked, thinking that he had grown tired of having her around, and had told him that she had found a place not too far from her office and that she would be leaving soon. Of course, it was all lies, but Nesta will never forget the hurt and sad expression that had overwhelmed Cassian. After two days she had been forced to tell him the truth, regretting having done such a thing for no reason, and had never seen the boy so happy as when she had told him she would have to stay for at least another month. Cassian had hugged her and spun her around in the air, thrilled by the news, and told her that she could stay for the rest of her life if she wanted to. Nesta had started laughing and then Cassian with her and in one way or another, they had ended up kissing.

The rest is history.

She set foot in their apartment and let go of an excited laugh.

She would finally work on her own and could finally translate the books she wanted and approve the projects she preferred and not just reread drafts on drafts on drafts every day. She took off her shoes and pulled her bra off her blouse, unbuttoning her pants and letting her hair fall on her shoulders in a hairstyle that didn't pull her head.

She turned on the TV, put on a music channel and began to dance, singing whatever song passed by. She came into the kitchen shaking and shouting the chorus of the brand new song of a band whose name she couldn't remember. She took a bottle of wine and poured herself a glass.

"A toast to myself." She whispered, raising her glass, "You did it."

She went wild for a little while longer and after the second glass, she decided that it was better to go shower and be prepared for when Cassian would return.

***

She had just got out of the tub when she heard the door close a bit abruptly. She looked at the clock on the sink cabinet and saw that it was eight o'clock. Making a small grimace, she realized that she had taken a bath for an hour. She heard Cassian calling her name and didn't have time to open the bathroom door, which opened wide, making her take two steps back.

Cassian grabbed her wrist, stabilizing her, "Sorry, I didn't think you were in here."

Nesta shook her head and was about to jump on his neck when she saw he had a wrinkled expression. She placed one hand on his arm, holding the towel around her with the other, " Everything's okay?"Cassian sighed and closed his eyes. "One of the last two clients seemed to be a bit too comfortable, it bothered me a lot."

Nesta nodded, knowing exactly what he was talking about. It wasn't the first time one of the boys' clients had taken advantage of the situation - probably getting pierced in intimate places - and made her husband uncomfortable. Fortunately, this hardly ever happened, but there were always those few exceptions, and once a year he would find special clients.

Nesta approached Cassian, moving her hand from his shoulder to his cheek and stood on her toes to give him a chaste kiss on the lips. Cassian wrapped his arms around her and squeezed her, running his tongue over her lower lip. Nesta moaned slowly and broke away, smiling still holding him.

"What are you smiling about?" Cassian asked, kissing her on the nose and pulling away shortly afterward to start undressing. Nesta leaned against the door jamb, holding the towel to her chest and admiring the sight. Nesta shook her head still incredulous after all these years that the man in front of her was her husband. "So?" he insisted once he entered the bathtub.

"They promoted me." she said as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

Cassian, who was washing his hair, stopped and looked at her with his mouth open before a bright smile took over his face. He got out of the tub, dripping water everywhere, and took her by her waist, lifting her up and letting the towel slide off her.

"I can't believe it," he said to her laughing, looking at her face with eyes shining with emotion, "God, I'm so proud of you," he snickered and put her down, pushing her towards him once more and kissing her deeply. Nesta laughed in the kiss and Cassian was forced to pull away.

He put his hand behind the back of her neck and pulled her to him, causing their lips to collide again and again and again until both were panting and Cassian's hand that was not busy holding Nesta close to him had found its way to her fine side and now he was holding her tight enough to make the girl moan.

At Nesta's cry Cassian pulled away slightly, pushing his forehead against hers to catch his breath. The water was still flowing behind him and when he stepped back to get into the tub, he pulled her with him. Her bare chest collided with his and they both held their breath as they touched.

Nesta gasped and shook her head, detaching herself from him and interrupting whatever they were about to do. "I've just washed, I can't take a shower again. And you should hurry because I made a reservation at our restaurant and we should be there in twenty minutes." she smiled at Cassian, who was still breathing frantically and held his hand on her waist, too close to her breast. She looked at him from under her eyelashes, letting him understand that they couldn't waste any more time, even though his thumb was now caressing her right breast and she was shivering at the thought of what those hands could do in other places.

Cassian had to clear his throat before speaking, "You're telling me I have to take care of this-" he pointed to his evident length with a movement of his chin, "-alone?" his voice was still hoarse. His eyes darkened as they quickly scanned her naked body. When he looked at her face again, her throat dried up and Nesta swallowed loudly, every trace of fun disappeared.

Nesta approached him with her gaze fixed on his lips and Cassian smiled slyly. She pointed a finger to his chest, sliding it down, towards his abs and then to his hips, reaching the base of his clear excitement. Cassian pushed his hips forward, trying to get touched where he most wanted, but Nesta grinned and walked away, giving him her back. His hand slipped away from her skin and Nesta immediately missed that touch.

She came out of the bathroom swinging her hips, while Cassian mumbled "You fucking tease."

Nesta chuckled, stepped back and stood by the bathroom door and said, "If you can wait till tonight, I'll show you just how much of a tease I can be." and then she winked at him.

He heard Cassian grunting in frustration as he put on the black lace panties he had given her a few months earlier, the ones she knew for sure would drive him crazy.

Oh yes, they would have so much fun that night.

acotar tag list (if you want to be added just let me know in the comments or sending an ask:))

@tottenhamboys20

[dwellordream]

I'm loving all this great discussion you've got going on about Rhaenyra Targaryen. How would you have preferred GRRM to have written her? What could have given her greater nuance and made her less "total hot mess" and more "nuanced and possibly tragic antiheroine"? Thanks for your generosity in answering all of these questions!

Thank you so much! I hope I’m not annoying people with my constant complaints about Fire and Blood haha.  Just as a whole I think Fire & Blood would have benefitted as being a series of interwoven novellas, not a mock-medieval-history of the past 300 years of Westeros. GRRM’s greatest talent as a writer, imo, is in how he develops characters as nuanced and realistic people with understandable ambitions and fears through their own perspectives. That’s lost out on in F&B. Occasionally it breaks into more ‘novel-like’ scene descriptions, but overall it’s supposed to read as a dry historical text, only it’s an often contradictory, absurdly biased, all over the place, relying on shock value dry historical text. I get that part of the whole idea was to present various viewpoints of certain characters and events and ‘leave it up to the reader to decide’ who they were inclined to believe, but really it’s just more of a vehicle for misogyny than anything else, since we exclusively get the viewpoints of a couple of very sexist maesters and... Mushroom. Yay.  Okay for example if I was going to handle Rhaenyra’s character while still hitting the basic plot points of her story (and this is not me saying I think I’m a better writer than GRRM or that I ‘know his characters better’, it’s just my personal interpretation), I think my goal would be to humanize her to the audience of readers while not shying away from her darker moments. She’s supposed to be controversial and provocative. However that doesn’t mean she has to be totally 2-dimensional or such a hot mess. I think I would start by emphasizing Rhaenyra’s position for the first 10 years of her life. She is the coddled, cossetted, and beloved only child of Viserys and his adored wife Aemma. She has never had a sibling, she’s never had to share any attention, her parents dote on her, as does all the court. Of course she is going to be spoilt, high-maintenance, proud, and temperamental when she doesn’t get her way. However, Rhaenyra is not just a bratty princess stereotype (or, she doesn’t have to be). She is also an extremely brave and determined little girl. She is extroverted; she likes socializing and being around people, she’s confident and assertive and used to having her voice heard. At the age of seven, she single-handedly tames and bonds with a young dragon. That is an extremely impressive feat for a child. You can’t argue, bully, or demand your way into riding a dragon, a wild beast. Rhaenyra had to show some serious grit and tenacity to do that at such a young age, so she’s not just this puffed up little fragile flower who wails when she doesn’t get her way. Rhaenyra also has a great relationship with her father. He doesn’t seem to hold the fact that she is his only child and a daughter against her; he praises and shows her off in front of his court, he makes sure she is always by his side. Rhaenyra is used to being honored before everyone. She is her father’s cupbearer, she is present while he holds court, she is exposed to a high level of adult political interactions and basic courtesies. She’s probably pretty bright for her age, and has a keen understanding of who is who and what everyone at court’s relations to one another are. She’s not been kept locked up in a nursery playing with toys, she is seen as an active member of court and her father’s little shadow. She also likely has a very good relationship with her mother Aemma. Rhaenyra is Aemma’s pride and joy, her sole surviving child after the trauma of a very young marriage and multiple miscarriages and stillbirths. Aemma has no close siblings of her own, and never knew her own mother Daella; no doubt she prizes her relationship with Rhaenyra and hopes Rhaenyra does not experience what she did as a little girl, growing up without a mother and only much-older half siblings in the Vale.  Then there is her Uncle Daemon. Daemon is the ‘fun’ relative little kids adore. He doesn’t treat Rhaenyra like a child, he doesn’t condescend to her, he brings her back all sorts of exciting and interesting toys and gifts, he takes time out of his day to spend with her, he takes her on outings and makes her feel special and loved. He’s not always busy with the mundane aspects of ruling that her father likely is, he’s not caught up with his own wife and children, he has all sorts of wild tales of adventure and mystery. It’s easy to see why Rhaenyra loves him so.  Then Aemma dies. No doubt this is a horrible shock to Rhaenyra. She’s a little girl, just eight years old. She’s not necessarily that familiar with the harsh realities of pregnancy and childbirth, she just knew she was getting a little brother or sister, and now her mother is gone, just like that. Aemma died during the birth. Rhaenyra never got to say goodbye, and her little brother dies a day later, compounding the grief and horror. Her father is heartbroken and reeling, and her favorite uncle is out drinking and whoring.  But Rhaenyra is named her father’s heir. Her mom might be gone, but her dad still loves her, and he loves her so much, in her eyes, that he is willing to buck the precedent that set him on the throne (passing over Rhaenys) in order to name her his heir. She’s Princess of Dragonstone; a whole island! Despite her grief and rage over her mother being ripped away from her, this is probably thrilling for a little girl. She’s going to be queen one day. Everyone loves her and wants her to be happy. She’s going to be the first Targaryen queen in her own right. Doesn’t that make her special and chosen? Then a year later her father remarries. Rhaenyra likely isn’t happy about this; her mother has only been dead a year!- but she is willing to try to get along with her new stepmother, Alicent, who probably seems like less of a mother and more of an older sister figure, just a teenaged girl of 18. Alicent is smart and pretty and Rhaenyra remembers her from court as a very small girl. Her father is Rhaenyra’s father’s Hand, someone Rhaenyra probably knows well, maybe even considers almost family, having grown up seeing him all the time, exchanging gifts at holidays and birthdays, attending tourneys with his family, etc. Then Alicent gets pregnant, something 9 year old Rhaenyra probably wasn’t really thinking about. She has a son, and people are saying he will be king, that her claim doesn’t matter. Then Alicent has another son. She doesn’t have time for Rhaenyra anymore. She’s not Rhaenyra’s mother. She has her own sons, and Aegon will be king, even though it’s not fair, even though Father promised she would be queen, even though Mother is dead and never coming back.  These are three major events happening in short succession in the life of a precocious little girl.  Rhaenyra likely feels hurt and confused and angry. Sure, her father hasn’t officially declared Aegon as his heir, but Alicent and her father are pushing it, people Rhaenyra thought she could trust. Who is she supposed to rely on now? Well, there’s Uncle Daemon, who suddenly seems like less of the fun uncle, almost like a big brother, and more of.. something else. He doesn’t treat her like a little girl anymore, he calls her beautiful and encourages her to show off her good looks and charm, assures her that regardless of what her father says or does, he will always care for her. She can count on him! And Ser Criston Cole, her longtime crush- well, he just sees her as that spoilt little girl. She’s growing up! She’s not a child anymore but he just doesn’t get it. She’s certain he feels the same way about her, that he loves her back, but his vows and white cloak are in the way, and he won’t stop seeing her as the little princess, not a girl of sixteen, a woman grown! She doesn’t have a mom to talk to this stuff about, but there is Uncle Daemon, and he knows pretty much everything about love and seduction; that’s why there’s all those wild tales about him. If she asks him to help her show Criston that she’s a woman now and wants to be treated as such, he wouldn’t turn her down, would he? Besides, he treats her like a grownup. He thinks she’d be an amazing queen. Father and him fight all the time, but Father’s blinded by his love for Alicent- she’s manipulating him! Uncle Daemon gives her advice, and she tries to impress Criston, but it backfires. He leaves her feeling humiliated and rejected. It’s not fair, she’s the princess, she’s supposed to be good at everything, but he acted like she was wrong to try to show him how much she cares and wants to be with him! Now he won’t talk to her anymore, and Father is sending Uncle Daemon, who seems like her one true friend, away from court because of some stupid rumors that he ‘deflowered her’. Alicent is saying she should be married to Aegon, her half-brother who she can’t stand; he’s a spoilt little creep, always groping servant girls and kissing up to their father. Dragonstone seems like the escape she needs from all of this, but Father is threatening to strip it from her unless she marries Laenor- Laenor who she knows isn’t even into women! They’re not even close friends. He doesn’t want to marry her anymore than she wants to marry him, only their fathers are insisting on it. Daemon’s gone and she has no idea when he’s coming back, and Harwin is sweet and says he loves her, but he would have never been accepted as her husband. Still, at least he’ll never leave her or turn on her, the way everyone else has. And that is basically how I would cover Rhaenyra’s childhood and adolescence in a way that I think at least gives her some understandable motivations, some nuance, and some real emotion beyond ‘she threw a fit when she didn’t get her way’.

[tarithenurse]

Nightingale - 27

Fandom: Naruto Pairing: Hatake Kakashi &/x Fem!OC Contents: Oh the feels and worries. Slow progress in exchange for a bit with Team 7. A/N: Getting closer to post all I’ve written which means I should probably get on paper all that’s rummaging around in my brain. As usual, ASK or REBLOG for tag! HUUUGE thanks to all who are reblogging already <3

Ch. 27

Spending most of his youth learning to corner people – and frankly, becoming one of the best at it – Kakashi can’t help the jittery nerves cascading down his back as he looks up to see the Third standing beside him. Hands on his back, the old man’s puffing on a dying pipe but his attention is on the memorial before them.

“Hokage-sama.”

“The pain never quite leaves.” The smile is bittersweet. “You don’t come here as much as you used to.”

I guess not. A fresh pang of guilt tries to undermine Kakashi’s heart. “I suppose...some days it’s easier to look to the future.”

“Hmmm...”

None of them say anything. Neither is it necessary to look to the other when the time comes and they silently say their “see-you-some-day”s and begin the walk back to the Academy.

Obediently following the elder man, Kakashi quickly realizes they are heading to Iruka’s classroom. Convenient, he puzzles, seeing as I was gonna go there. Class is just finished and the men step back to allow the rush of student to exit and regain their longed-for freedom before they can enter.

“Huh? Hokage-sama? Kakashi?”

...

From a distance, it would be easy to mistake the two figures for schoolmates. Pink and blue closely together, the giggles making the boys nearby glance in nervousness as they try to figure out what’s so funny, and Kakashi only goes easy on his students out of pity – kids their age still has a lot to learn about girls. And we never seem to figure it out completely.

“Although I commend you for remaining alert to your surroundings,” the sensei drawls, “losing focus completely won’t do you any good.”

The statement it underlined to near comical effect as they trigger the trap they had been trying to disarm and find themselves entangled in the thin threads crisscrossing between the trees all of a sudden.

“Damnit!”

“...moron,” the broody one grumbles, already looking for a way to get free despite his teammate’s flailing.

“WhaaAAAT?!” Naruto throws himself heart first into a shouting match with no clear opponent.

Better let them hang for a while and cool down. “Girls?”

“Hai, sensei,” the girls in question smile, one making the jōnin frown behind the mask.

“Care to explain what Naruto and Sasuke did wrong?”

He notices that Uguisu gives the younger girl a chance to answer first. “Naruto was being clumsy.”

It’s not wrong.

“And neither had noticed the second trap. It was set to spring either when triggered normally or when the first was disarmed,” the woman adds.

Three pairs of eyes scour the ground for any trace. The darkest close, accepting defeat, while the lighter pairs remain unsatisfied until Kakashi pokes at a particular root with a stick and a thinly woven net wraps the boys too tight to allow movement.

“Well, that’s it for today,” he smiles, “get a good night’s rest and be ready at eight o’clock.”

“Hey! Senseeei!” Naruto yells after the retreating adults, “what about getting us out!?”

But the white-haired man merely waves and professes his faith in the team to figure it out.

Out of sight, he leads Uguisu onto a path leading further away from town. He enjoys these quiet moments in the forest, whether they’re walking or lounging about. The best thing, and no one can change his mind on this, is when they’re lying somewhere and she’s carting her fingers through his stubborn hair. Or the rare instances where she feels safe enough to give into a kiss.

It won’t happen today (at least not right now) his instinct tells him. Something’s got the woman riled up, as if Naruto has poured itching powder into her clothes and she’s too proud to admit it; but she’s fidgeting with her hair, with the hem of her sleeve. Not that Naruto could manage to pull a prank like that on her. Besides, she’s barely able to contain a smile.

Leaping effortlessly up onto the thick branches of an oak, Kakashi smiles at the soundless pursuit which only stills when they both sit with their legs dangling in the air and the gnarly bark presses patterns through their trousers and into their thighs.

“Out with it.”

Uguisu arches an eyebrow, but the smile proves that she’s not surprised. “Umino Iruka says I’ll have my written exam in two weeks.” I know. “Aaaand until then, I don’t have to attend classes anymore.” Knew that too. “So! I was thinki-”

“No.”

Watching her deflate, all the exited happiness leaking from her features, Kakashi feels like it would nicer to sit down for a beating at the hands of Gai.

“You don’t know what I wanted to say.”

Gotta do this right. “You want to tag along on the mission with Team 7,” he calmly proves her wrong, “for the sake of the experience, probably, and to avoid getting bored...maybe you’d even say you’d feel safer with me around.”

The woman bows her head. Dejected. “I do feel safer around you.”

“I...thank you...but I won’t be enough if worst comes to worst. You know that.” Although the movements are minuscule, delicate, he can see how she’s curling up on herself. “In Konoha, you have the advantage of safety in numbers. Everyone is on high alert and have been since you let yourself be known.”

“But they don’t like me...”

Carefully, he reaches out to tip her face upwards. There are no tears. No anger. Just...empty despair that breaks his heart all over again because he knows it’s grown from distrust.

“Give them a chance,” he pleads, “you might just find friends here if you can grant them the same chance you’ve given me once.” Gingerly kissing the tip of her nose, he notices the flicker of hope in the dark eyes. “Iruka trusts you...and praises you. Seems Sakura adores you too. Kurenai and Asuma always wants to know if you’re doing okay...I think they might feel sort of responsible for your well being just like Anko does.”

“You’re just saying this to make me feel better.”

“Doesn’t mean it can’t be true.”

“Hrm.”

Releasing the loose hold Kakashi has on the woman he loves, he frees his face completely. “Uguisu, I want to make you happy. Want you to be safe. Always. You’re made to be free, so it must be hard to be confined this way until the tests are done and your skill is recognized.”

“But we both know I’ll never be send on a mission,” she whispers wryly without eye contact.

Yeah. “Not one on behalf of outsiders, at least.”

“And in your opinion: nothing that can put me at risk of Orochimaru discovering me.”

“I can’t hold you back forever,” he sighs, still trying to get her to look at him, “this will probably be the last time I’m away and can rest knowing you’re safe.”

All the thoughts and emotions inside Kakashi are threatening to spill over, to tumble out of his mouth without a care for the swirling maelstrom they might evoke, and as tempting as it is to let the damn break he knows a wrong move or word could further the divide he’s been breaching for months.

Uguisu’s hand is gentle and calm as it turns his to cup her cheek. When she leans into the palm, the jōnin allows the worries to evaporate in favour of hoping that he’ll have the chance to admit his feelings some other time. She knows anyways. All he has to do right now is to return the little smile brightening the dark eyes.

[concussed-to-pieces]

The Mettle Of A Man; Part Seven

Fandom: Fallout (4)

Pairing: Eventual Paladin Danse/Female Sole Survivor

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Enjoy!

Part One: ArcJet

Part Two: The Prydwen

Part Three: Orders

Part Four: Finding Brandis

Part Five: Weston Water And Oberland

Part Six: Meeting Preston And Matthew

Paladin Danse, pride of the Brotherhood of Steel, yawned loudly right before he took the shot. The radstag looked up, alerted to his presence, but it was already too late for the beast.

  Danse lumbered down to the water's edge, hauling the body up onto the withered grass and then drawing his combat knife. As messy as field dressing creatures could be, Danse found himself soothed by the memorized motions. He wondered idly whether he could have been happy doing something like this. Just hunting to support his own needs, staking a claim on some forlorn piece of land and slowly shaping it into a home, maybe even starting a family...

  He almost nicked his thumb due to his inattention and Danse grunted, a little irritated to have caught himself daydreaming about a more domestic existence. You're a member of the Brotherhood of Steel , he scolded, start acting like it! Imagining fake lifetimes was reserved for those who hadn't sworn the Creed, dedicating their lives to carrying out the will of their Elder and honoring the tenets of the Brotherhood.

  Theirs not to make reply, theirs not to reason why, theirs but to do and die.

  Danse's familiarity with the task made quick work of butchering the animal, the paladin rolling everything neatly into the bedraggled hide he had peeled off the beast. The inedible bits of the animal he buried, not wanting to draw any predatory attention to the site. 

  With the lumpy, makeshift sack slung over his shoulder, the paladin trekked back up the hill to the station. Preston waved at him from the fortified wall and the paladin saluted out of habit. 

  Danse found himself powerless to stop his smile when a freckled face popped out from the doorway of the station, Matthew staring down at him. The child's fear seemed to have evaporated overnight, replaced by the verbose curiosity that so many of his age group eagerly employed. It probably helped that Danse had left his power armor behind the station.

  "Whatd'ja get?" The boy asked, skittering down the stairs.

  "Radstag. Notoriously gamey, but ultimately acceptable for consumption." Danse replied as he rinsed off his hands and knife, surprised when Matt nodded solemnly.

  "My papa and older brothers get them sometimes. He says I can't see them shoot one yet though. When I'm older I can come along." Matthew squatted beside the paladin, watching intently as Danse unrolled the pelt and separated out the different cuts of meat. Some would benefit immensely from being aged, but out in the field there was little chance of a reliably-cooled environment. 

  Danse frowned. He had been hoping for smaller game, like some mole rats. He hadn't wanted to pass up the prolific meat the larger beast offered, but now he felt a bit foolish for impulsively going after a creature they may not be able to consume entirely before it spoiled. He couldn't spend all day cooking or preserving it either, he had promised Preston he would finish the wall--

  "Good news!" Garvey called, a spring in his step as he approached the two. "Matt's folks are coming 'round to collect him as soon as possible. I'd expect them by noon, if not earlier."

  "Does your family need food, Matthew?" Danse asked the boy bluntly, gesturing down at the meat. 

  "I got three brothers and four sisters, Mister Danse sir." Matt said by way of reply, his eyes a little wide. "We grow some stuff and my mama makes pretty things to sell, but food's kinda' tight." A flush rose on his face. "We're not poor though! Not poor. We have a place to live, and clean water." He continued defiantly.

  Danse was stunned silent for a moment, and Preston cleared his throat. "You need a hand with that, Paladin?" 

  "I...yes. Thank you, Lieutenant." Danse mumbled, struggling to gather his thoughts. "I may have bitten off more than I could chew as far as resources go. If you would...just...uh, wrap the…"

  "You want them to have the decent stuff, or the larger stuff?" Preston asked simply, crouching down.

  The paladin grimaced. "The whole damn thing, but I'm certain they wouldn't accept it." He muttered incredulously under his breath, " eight children." 

  "They're lucky. A lot of times, pregnancy doesn't really work out so well." Preston rumpled Matthew's hair. "How about you decide, big man. You want the whole deer, minus what we eat for breakfast?"

  "What, really? All of it?!" The boy asked excitedly, looking up at Danse like he was waiting for confirmation. Danse nodded jerkily, unsure of exactly which emotion was choking him at the moment. "This will make my mama wicked happy! I hear her cry sometimes about food. S'why I went to the water place, I was tryin' to scavenge for stuff like my big brothers do."

  It was hardly Danse's first time encountering a family that was low on resources. He had grown up a scavenger himself, alone and hungry. The Capital Wasteland had been rife with desperate people who were willing to try their luck against fully armored BoS troops. Danse couldn't even begin to count the amount of times hostile situations had erupted due to the Brotherhood sitting pretty atop a mountain of supplies. 

  "I'm glad it'll be put to good use, then." He managed to say, his fists balled up tightly. 

  At least right here, right now , he could help.

  …

  Danse trudged across the lot yet again, dragging a massive fallen tree behind him. Thanks to his power armor, the paladin was a machine of industry when it came to building the remaining two sides of barricades. Backhand was just grateful that he had waited until after eight o'clock to begin. Her sleep had been poor, filled with dreams of chasing after Shaun.

  Danse worked almost silently aside from noises of exertion, and it seemed as though his mind was elsewhere. If Backhand had learned anything during her brief stint of traveling with the paladin it was that when he pondered, he appeared to devote his whole body to the task.

  "He's really somethin', General." Preston commented. "I mean, just look at him go! If more folks in the Brotherhood were like him, I feel as if the tide would finally start to turn for the Commonwealth."

  "You're not wrong." Backhand agreed, wiping the sweat off her forehead. After Danse had assured her that he was more than up to the task of finishing the fence, she had decided to start planting the crops. So here she was, General of the Minutemen, up to her elbows in dirt, tato seeds and corn kernels while Matt 'supervised'. "I think he likes helping."

  "Kindred spirits?" Preston teased. 

  "Maybe so!" She laughed, flicking his knee with dirt-covered fingers. "I think the Commonwealth could always use more people willing to lend a hand, though."

  "The Minutemen certainly can, even if the rest of the Commonwealth wants to stick its head in the sand." The radio on Preston's lapel crackled to life and he dashed off, practically bounding up the steps to the station so he could get a little higher and clear the signal. " Lieutenant Preston Garvey here… "

  "I hope my parents come soon." Matt said quietly. He toed at a mound of dirt, his expression troubled. "D'ya think they'll be mad at me?"

  Backhand grimaced. "I doubt it. They'll be happy that you're okay. You're really lucky, y'know."

  "I know." Matt continued staring at his feet, "I just didn't want my mama to cry anymore. I wanted to fix it."

  Backhand raised her hand and placed it on his shoulder, giving him a little shake. "Hey, sometimes we're just not big enough to fix stuff by ourselves. Sometimes we're not strong enough, even when we think we are. But that's how you learn, right? So you gotta' pick yourself up and try to help where you can." The little boy still looked dejected. "I'll tell you what, Matt. As General of the Minutemen, I'm giving you a field promotion to Intel Lieutenant."

  "Intel Lieutenant?" Matthew echoed in confusion, his eyes wide. 

  "Yep. You're observant and resourceful, excellent qualities in an intelligence operative. I need you to keep your family safe, and that includes keeping you safe. A smart intelligence operative always ensures the safety of the people around them. Can I count on you, Lieutenant?" Backhand asked, wiping her hand off on her jeans and extending it to the boy.

  "Yeah. Yeah! Yeah, I can do that!" Matthew puffed his chest out a little, small fingers grappling her own when he shook her hand. "What's my first order, General ma'am?" 

  "Your first order will be to work in tandem with Preston and secure the perimeter. You walk the inside beat, he walks the outside." Backhand instructed, barely stifling her laugh at the child's stiff salute. 

  "Matthew?" An unfamiliar voice called, a thin woman slipping through the doorway Danse had left in the fence. "Matthew!"

  "Mama!" Matthew hollered, bolting across the settlement to fling himself into his mother's arms. The woman sank to her knees, holding her son close and crying into his hair as he clung to her.

  Backhand's throat ached and she looked away, blinking away the tears she wanted to shed at the reunion. She noticed that Danse had stopped mid-motion, the paladin appearing to silently watch the scene unfold.

  Preston trundled down the stairs, his smile kind as Mrs. O'Brian tried to thank him. "All part of the job, ma'am. We were happy to help." He assured her. "Really, you can thank that curmudgeon Rob. Without him telling the General about the super mutants, she never would have gone to Weston."

  Backhand rose from the dirt, brushing her knees off and meandering forward. Mrs. O'Brian launched into a new wave of thank-yous which Backhand attempted to graciously deflect, and in the midst of their conversation Mr. O'Brian arrived. He was wheezing a bit from the climb, freckled face red with exertion.

  "Matthew Amadeus O'Brian!" He thundered, and Matt lunged for him.

  "Papa!" The little boy cheered, hugging his father's leg. 

  "You had us out of our minds , young man!" Mr. O'Brian scolded, the relief in his eyes belying his sharp tone. "Don't you dare wander off like that again!"

  "I won't, I promise!"

  "We seriously can't thank you enough, we...we've been so worried ." Mrs. O'Brian daubed at her eyes with her sleeve. 

  Backhand caught her arm and carefully took her aside, speaking in undertones when she said, "Matt told us that he was trying to scavenge like his older siblings did. Apparently he overheard some discussions about food scarcity."

  Mrs. O'Brian froze guiltily, looking back at her son and husband. "I...well, the winter was so hard , General, and caps have been tight because the corn wouldn't pollinate properly. We'll get by, though. We always have." She said staunchly. 

  Backhand cocked her head towards the motionless Danse. "My friend Danse butchered a radstag earlier today. We ate our fill this morning, and Matt already promised us that you'd be willing to take the rest. It'll just go to waste, otherwise." She reasoned, watching the other woman's eyes glisten with tears all over again.

  "Oh General, we...I mean, if you're sure -?" 

  "Absolutely. Myself and the paladin will be going our separate ways from Lieutenant Garvey today, and that much meat will definitely spoil before we reach our next destination. Please, I insist."

  "I thought the Brotherhood of Steel wasn't willing to help civilians?" Mrs. O'Brian whispered cautiously, her eyes flitting to Danse.

  "I can't speak for anyone else, but my friend Danse is a cut above your average grunt." Backhand said proudly. "Once this settlement gets up and running I hope to establish a caravan between here and Starlight. If we can get the logistics squared away, hopefully that will make trade a little easier. I can't promise anything, but-"

  "I can already tell better days are coming." Mrs. O'Brian said softly, her hand clasping Backhand's own. "Now that the Minutemen are back...well, it gives folks hope again, and sometimes that's all you need." She then waved Danse over.

  His power armor grinding loudly, Danse obligingly approached the two women. "Citizen." He addressed Mrs. O'Brian with a polite nod once he was within earshot.

  "I wanted to personally thank you, Paladin Danse." The older woman announced, her voice wavering slightly. "For finding my son, a-and for the food."

  "Oh, you don't...er, thanks are not necessary, citizen." Danse floundered, rubbing the back of his neck. "A good Brotherhood of Steel soldier knows that their responsibilities lie with the people under their protection." His smile was slow, and a bit awkward. "I am simply glad that we discovered Matthew before any serious harm could be done, though I have to apologize for the cut above his eye."

  "Matt was hiding in a wall when we entered the facility, and we thought he was a hound. We may have gone through the wall." Backhand explained with a wince. 

  "The super mutants would have done much worse. Hopefully that little scrape helps him learn." Mrs. O'Brian brushed off their apology ruefully. "He's very fond of getting into trouble. I call him my little wanderer."

  "If you'll excuse me." Danse murmured, offering the older woman a salute and then turning to Backhand. "I should be done by fifteen hundred hours or thereabouts. At that point, I believe it would be prudent for us to return."

  "Are you sure? You're already burning your grease, Paladin." Backhand pointed out worriedly. 

  Danse shook his head. "Paladin Brandis will have reported in by now. I can get my armor serviced at the base."

  "Alright, I'll have everything locked and loaded." 

  The paladin nodded and headed back towards the framework of a wall that he had constructed. "God, he is tall ." Mrs. O'Brian muttered. "And stiff." She seemed to remember herself after a moment. "Uh, anyway! We really appreciate everything that you've done for us, General. Everything . If there's anything you need, or...even if you're just in the area, you're more than welcome to stop by. We'd love to have you visit!" She said, loudly enough so that Danse could hear her. 

  He simply nodded again and heaved a log up into his arms, then slammed it down over his armored knee to snap it in half. The bark essentially exploded off the trunk, bits and pieces landing on the ground as Danse shoved the crude beam into the dirt. Where the first half of the wall had been constructed with various scrap, the second half was much more reliant on raw lumber. It looked more like a stockade wall than anything.

  "Oh." Mrs. O'Brian said weakly. "Are they all...like him?"

  "I imagine some of them are way worse." Backhand chuckled. "We'll leave him to it. Let's get you that radstag."

  Mr. O'Brian was a touch more reserved than his wife, but he still expressed a wild amount of gratitude to Preston and Backhand. The entire time Matt was glued to his leg. "I'm just happy to know that there's still damn decent people out here." The older man remarked, looking a little misty as he secured the pelt over his shoulder. "We owe you a lot, General. You can count on us if the Minutemen ever need help."

  "I'll hold you to it, Mr. O'Brian. Lieutenant Matt." Backhand inclined her head to the little boy, who saluted her. "It's in your hands now, soldier. I'm depending on you. I know you're up to the task." 

  "Uh huh." Matthew replied, sounding a bit breathless. He scrambled away from his father right before they departed, fumbling with the knotted bandanna around his hand. "Here, General! I gotta' give you your luck back before I go." He said seriously, unwinding the cloth and returning it to Backhand. Without waiting for a reply, he then rushed at Danse. "Mister Danse! Hey, Mister Danse!" 

  Danse halted where he was. "Yes, Matthew?" He replied.

  "I wanted to say thank you. And I'm sorry I thought you were scary before. You're not that scary." Matthew said plainly. "You're nice even though you look scary."

  Danse arched a brow. "A charitable allowance, citizen. Maybe I'll bump into you again someday. In the meantime, try to stay out of mischief and listen to your parents. You are…" Danse paused, his expression sad. "You're very lucky to have them, Matthew."

  "I know!" The boy answered brightly, wrapping himself around Danse's greave in a makeshift hug before skipping back to his parents. "Bye, Mister Danse!"

  Danse raised one large gauntlet. "Goodbye, Matthew."

  …

  There was no easy way to say it. Danse was in a slump . It felt like the closer he got to the airport, the harder it was to force himself to keep moving forward. He doubted the amount of labor he had done earlier was helping matters, as the joints in his armor protested vigorously with every step. 

  When Knight Vega tentatively suggested that they find shelter for the night, Danse hated the relief that flooded his body. "The next suitable structure we come across." He promised, knowing that she must have spotted the radstorm he had been tracking on the horizon for several hours. 

  Steaming rain began to fall as Vega pointed out a ramshackle-looking lean-to, butted up alongside a collapsed house. "There, c'mon!" She said urgently, running through the tall grass alongside the road. 

  "Vega-!" Danse began to protest, lumbering along in her wake. Green lightning split the sky in the distance, the odd warbling thunder that accompanied radstorms rolling shortly thereafter. "Knight Vega, you don't know whether that's inhabited! "

  "I don't care!" Backhand retorted, shoving open the door with her shoulder and vanishing inside. 

  Danse tried to enter through the doorway, but it was too narrow. "Dammit Vega, you need to think your trajectory through. Don't just go running off whenever you get an idea in your head." He scolded, swapping his rifle to his right hand and flicking on the tact-light as he sidestepped gingerly through the door instead.

  The beam wavered in the darkness, playing over the battered walls and half-tarpaulin roof. It did appear that the tiny structure was deserted, and Danse wasn't sure if he should be even more cautious. What could have caused the previous inhabitants to depart? 

  Backhand stood in the middle of the room, her arms folded around herself as she shivered. "C'mon, get in here. The wind is picking up and I'm freezing ." She complained.

  Danse attempted to oblige, nearly cracking his head open on one of the ceiling trusses in his haste. The paladin grimaced, ducking and then carefully closing the door behind him. "Better?" He asked, a little irritated with her demanding attitude. 

  "Y-Yes." She replied, her voice sharp. She immediately began stripping her armor off, as well as the Vault suit beneath it. 

  Danse flinched, turning his head away. "Vega, will you-"

  "Please just...just give me a second." She begged. 

  Danse's brow furrowed, and the paladin shot her a look. Thunder rumbled in the distance and...was that a flinch? "Vega, are you-"

  "Just give me a second! " Backhand cried, probably louder than she had intended. Danse took a reflexive step back, his gauntlet clattering against the wall. "I'm sorry, I...I'm sorry, Danse. Paladin." She apologized after a second, floundering with her greaves. "It's the rain, I can't...it makes me feel sick to my stomach." 

  "You should have said something earlier, Vega." Danse chided gently. "We could have found a more defensible position."

  "I thought if we moved quick, we might make it back to the airport before it hit." Her motions were jerky as she yanked the Vault suit down, unlacing her boots as an afterthought. "But now we're stuck here for the night."

  "At least the roof appears to be sound." Danse tried to look on the bright side of their incarceration, and tried to not look at her as she stripped to her smallclothes. He was dry aside from his head, the gorget seal at his neck saw to that. But Backhand had no such luck. "I'll put my armor in front of the door to barricade it." Danse offered after a moment, taking the opportunity to turn his back to her. He didn't get a reply, and he honestly wasn't sure if he had even expected one in the first place. 

  Danse emerged from the armor, stepping down and back smoothly before he urged the hatch closed once more. He then popped the fusion core out and tucked it into his utility belt. He knew he was being overly cautious and performative when it came to giving Knight Vega her privacy, but at this point he was doing this for his own sanity as well.

  After a pregnant pause, he heard her shift her weight. "Okay, I'm decent." She mumbled.

  The scent of lantern oil wafted past his nose and a light flared up behind him, turning his shadow into a pitch black silhouette on the wall. Danse took a gamble and slowly turned around.

  Vega had thrown on a shirt that reached her mid-thigh. That was her idea of decent? She scuttled around bent nearly double, spreading her bedroll without even bothering to clear the floor beneath it. "Vega." Danse addressed her quietly, then a bit louder when she failed to respond, " Vega . You'll do serious damage to your back if you sleep so rough. Take a minute to prepare."

  "I-" Backhand's eyes were wild when they met his own. For a moment, Danse wasn't certain she knew who he was, or if she even saw him . 

  "Knight," He paused, clearing his throat and then mumbling, "Elizabeth." Saying her actual name, the name she had given Matthew, felt oddly inappropriate. "You're alright." He assured her calmly. "You're fine. We have shelter, light and food. You're alright."

  "I know ." Backhand retorted. "I-I know. And don't call me that." 

  "What?" Danse asked in confusion. "I apologize, I didn't mean to-"

  "Paladin, please ." Backhand's eyes had gone fierce, pale blue snapping in the light from the lantern. "I'm not his fucking Beth anymore." She practically snarled the words.

  "I didn't call you Beth. I called you Elizabeth." Danse replied, trying to gentle his tone.

  "Oh. I... God , Danse, I'm so sorry. I don't mean to be all…" she trailed off helplessly, making a vague gesture. "I didn't sleep well and getting sick from the rain wouldn't help. We used the last of the Rad-X for you."

  Ah . Danse should have known. This wasn't about her getting damp or being uncomfortable, it was the usual resource scarcity that had her on edge. "It'll be alright, Knight Vega. We're only a few hours out from the airport." He hesitated, unsure if he should continue. "I apologize for using your first name. I was unaware that it was a raw subject for you."

  "It's not , not really. I just...he used to call me Beth and I'm not that person anymore. It's been so long since I heard Elizabeth that I must have just assumed you said Beth. I'm sorry, Danse." She was wringing her hands nervously.

  "Logan." Danse murmured.

  "What?"

  "Fair's fair, right? My first name is Logan. I regret that I have no nickname to give you."

  …

  Backhand's eyes widened. Logan . It was a good name. It suited him. She mouthed it once to herself. "Don't encourage me to give you a nickname." She joked, aware that she probably sounded a little too reedy. "I can guarantee you'll regret it."

  Danse's eyes crinkled good-naturedly at the edges when he smiled down at her. "I don't doubt it," He allowed, repeating, "but fair is fair, Knight."

  "I don't like the radstorms at all." Vega blurted out, a blush staining her face. "The thunder, it's wrong and I hate it."

  "Understandable, Knight. The noise is highly unsettling." Danse had her gather her sleeping bag back up, the paladin using a spare piece of plywood that he found by the door like a makeshift plow to shove the debris off to the side. "There," He said finally after he was satisfied with the state of the floor, " now you can lay down. Without worrying about tetanus or a herniated disc." He teased.

  "The Brotherhood will not forget your sacrifice." Backhand ribbed in reply, smoothing the wrinkles out of her bedroll.  

  "And this is how I'm promoted to star paladin." Danse said dryly. "For my dedication to the art of proper slumber in the field." He shook his head ruefully, unrolling his own sleeping bag and spreading it lengthwise at the base of his armor. He was blocking the door, Backhand realized after a second. Like the immobile armor wasn't enough!

  "Hey, come over here." She requested boldly, patting the cement beside her. 

  Vega didn't expect him to obey, the larger man dragging his bedroll parallel with hers after a moment of thought. "I suppose the floor is more level here." He reasoned. "Good eye, Knight."

  "Oh yeah, it's not because you're probably warm or anything. I was definitely looking out for you."

  Danse's chuckle was soft. "Understood. I am a commodity." He lowered himself onto his sleeping bag, waiting patiently as she dug through her satchel. 

  "So for dinner, we have a wonderful assortment of Cram. After that, I'll brew us some tea." Backhand said finally, digging two cans out of the pack. " God I wish I'd had the stuff to bake bread, would have made us some back at Oberland." 

  Danse shook his head. "It spoils so fast out on the road. Though during the harsher months there is nothing quite like a fresh slice of hot bread with a little grease alongside the meat stew from the mess hall." He sounded wistful, despite the fact that Backhand knew he was talking about military food and therefore it probably wasn't anything to write home about.

  "Remind me to bake you some bread." Backhand tossed him a can of Cram, and then opened her own with less-than-steady hands. She did her best to ignore the storm that was raging closer and closer, steeling her spine from flinching at every rumble of thunder.

  Danse all but devoured the canned substance, the large man obviously starving from his day of labor and walking across the Commonwealth. He drowsily watched Backhand set up the small coffee pot she lugged with her, the lantern now doubling as a brazier of sorts. Backhand pried open her tea tin after a momentary struggle, grabbing one of the bags inside and dropping it into the pot of dubiously-clean water without much ceremony.

  The tea was a hubflower blend, lacking in caffeine and bearing a sweet, calming scent. Backhand often employed this beverage when she had difficulty sleeping, finding that the entire tea-brewing process tended to calm her racing mind.

  Danse dug out the cup from his mess kit for her to pour into, the thin metal thoroughly scoured clean and dented from use in the field. "Be careful, it's really hot." Backhand warned, gingerly scooting the cup across the floor to the large man.

  He nodded absently, cradling the cup close. He looked pensive, as though he wanted to ask something but couldn't quite think of how to phrase it. "Knight... how do you know of the way to get into the Institute?" Danse's tone was wearily quizzical. "That information is...it's unprecedented , but I assume you must know that already."

  Backhand exhaled, staring up at the ceiling as she tried to gather her thoughts. It was a relatively straightforward story, all things considered, though some portions would sound insane . So she started talking.

  She told Danse about going to Diamond City and employing the assistance of a well-known detective. Finding out that Kellogg had been there, with a ten year old child. The grueling endeavor of tracking him across the Commonwealth, culminating in a ferocious gunfight against the mercenary and his group of synths. The grisly discovery of the devices implanted in his body, and the slow unraveling of the truth from the escaped Institute scientist in the Glowing Sea. Teleportation .

  Backhand conveniently left out the fact that Detective Nick Valentine was a synth, and that Virgil the Institute scientist was once a man, who had in turn become a super mutant by force of necessity. 

  She sipped her tea, realizing that her throat was parched from talking. The look that Danse was giving her was one of extreme incredulity and she grimaced into her cup.

  "Christ, Vega." He said hoarsely. "What happens now?"

  "Well, if I have any luck left , I figure out how to convince someone to help me build a giant machine that I don't really understand." Backhand shrugged glibly. "Sturges has been working on a few things, but I think this project might be beyond his scope of expertise." 

  "Maybe Proctor Ingram should take a look at the plans you have? If there's anyone I know that can make sense of a mess, it's Ingram." Danse suggested tentatively. "Her and Haylen are...just outstanding ." The warmth in his tone whenever he spoke of Haylen never failed to make Backhand smile, but this was the first time he seemed to notice her doing it. "What? Did I say something funny?"

  "Not at all! You just talk about Haylen like she hung the stars." Backhand pushed down the brief flare of envy she felt. "It's sweet."

  " Sweet? " Danse sputtered, a flush rising on his cheeks. "I am not...she isn't--Knight, you misinterpret my admiration. She is a phenomenal soldier, an immensely talented field scribe. I sponsored her as an initiate. She and Rhys are...they're the only ones left of Gladius. I'm thrilled that they've decided to pursue a relationship." Danse's eyes were soft and haunted in the dim light of the guttering lantern, but his words were sincere when he said, "They deserve to be happy."

  "What about you, though?" Backhand asked gently before she could stop herself. Danse tilted his head, appearing confused. "Don't you deserve to be happy too?"

  His smile was sad. "I am a paladin of the Brotherhood of Steel, Knight Vega. I am sworn to uphold the tenets and be an example to the troops. My own happiness was doomed to irrelevancy the moment I accepted the promotion." He folded his hands in front of him, leaning forward a little and staring at the floor. "Truthfully, it was rendered obsolete long before then."

  …

  "Why?" Vega sounded curious and Danse cursed himself for even bringing up the topic.

  He could lie, or simply brush off her question. But that didn't sit right with him. Danse sighed heavily and began to speak.

  He talked about growing up alone in the Capital Wasteland, no parents or siblings that he could recall. Always alone, picking through the ruins for anything edible or salvage that he could trade. He talked about opening his own little stand in Rivet City once he was grown, and he was ashamed of how his voice broke when he mentioned Cutler. Joining the Brotherhood had been a no-brainer, like it was the only course of action possible. Everything had gone so well. He had felt like he was actually making a difference. Until the day Cutler disappeared on a scouting mission. Danse vaguely remembered arguing with Paladin Krieg, his sponsor attempting to shout down the then-knight. But Danse was fiercely stubborn.

  He tried to tell her what he had found when he had finally tracked the remains of Cutler's squadron down, tried to continue his explanation as to why his personal happiness held little to no ground in his life, but the lump in his throat left him incapable of speech. 

  Backhand's touch on his arm startled him and he jerked, looking up at her. Her eyes were sorrowful. "Hey, you don't have to say any more." She offered him a weak-looking smile. "I get it. I lost my C.O. during an assault on an enemy bunker. You feel like it's your fault and you stay up all night trying to figure out what you could have done to save them."

  "I know it's futile to think of such things. " Danse rasped.

  "And yet you do it anyway." Backhand rubbed his arm. "Empathy is some rotten stuff, Paladin Danse, but we need to be reminded that we're human sometimes." Her sigh followed the tail end of a rolling boom of thunder. "I was incapacitated by the same explosion that killed Sergeant Cathan. He bled out next to me. I was shipped home with him technically, although I wasn't in a pine box. I went to his funeral, got to listen to his widow try to keep her shit together when I knew all she wanted to do was bury every single uniformed asshole there that had sent her husband to die." Backhand scoffed. "I knew because I felt the same way."

  "I was furious with Arthur for sending Cutler's squadron out to that corner of the wastes." Danse admitted. "It was shortly after I had discovered what happened to Cutler that Ar-" He stopped short, horrified that he had nearly let the information slip.

  " Come on Danse! " Arthur had complained, rolling his eyes . " I know you did this stuff for Cutler. "

  Danse cleared his throat. "It doesn't matter." He breathed. He had always been a terrible liar and he knew Vega didn't buy it for a second . 

  Those pale blue eyes narrowed and she scooted even closer, her sleeping bag pooled around her knees as she studied his face. Danse just tried to avoid eye contact. "What did he do, Danse?" She asked softly.

  " Nothing ." Danse stressed the word, his tone sharp. "I said it didn't matter, and it doesn't."

  "Hey." Backhand murmured, "I'm on your side, okay? Don't lie to me. Whatever it is, it's eating you alive."

  Danse's breath hitched. How could she tell? How could she pierce through the stoic facade he had painstakingly crafted over the course of his military career? 

  The answer came to him suddenly and he felt a little foolish for not having seen it sooner. 

  She wanted to. 

  Ludicrously simple, almost child's play. It was because she dared to bother . In a world that was more than content to let appearances be, she did the unthinkable and probed past the first glance.

  She was like Cutler. Perhaps a bit too much like Cutler. Curious to a fault, whip-smart and witty. Danse's heart ached in his chest. The idea of opening himself up again like he had with Cutler was... terrifying , mind-numbing, it was like standing on the deck of the Prydwen knowing that one misstep could send him plummeting to his demise. He had barely survived the depression that had engulfed him after he was forced to end Cutler's life, knowing that it was what the other man would have done in his stead but also hating himself for being able to carry it out at all. What did that say about him as a person, that he could stare into the eyes of the only individual he had been truly intimate with and kill him without a word?

  Danse was a model soldier. He was relatively certain that he would be following orders until the day he died. No one had ordered him to go after Cutler. He could have left it alone, simply gone along with the " missing, presumed dead " verdict. But those damn emotions he struggled with so much had reared their ugly head, made him volatile to the point where he had gotten into a screaming match with Paladin Krieg . 

  The person he had really wanted to shout at had been Maxson, both for assigning Cutler such a far-flung post and for doing it without warning. Danse hadn't even been able to say goodbye , damn it.

  And then the hive, the empty suits of power armor covered in blood and gore and fragmentary human remains and Cutler , babbling nonsense in a voice that grated and shrieked. He hadn't recognized Danse when the other knight foolishly removed his helmet. Instead, Cutler had lunged at him, trying to tear him apart with his newfound mutant strength--

  "Danse?" 

  The paladin jolted at the sound of her voice. "It doesn't matter, Knight." He repeated dully. "We should get some sleep." Without waiting for a reply, he shifted down a bit in his bedroll and tugged the fabric up over his shoulders. 

  Backhand stayed up for a bit longer, probably finishing her tea. The rain continued to beat on the roof, the occasional flash of green lightning blazing through every crack and crevice in the dilapidated lean-to. 

  The Capital Wasteland hadn't gotten storms like these. Danse had to assume that they must blow in from the Glowing Sea to batter the surrounding landscape. 

  He heard her shuffling around, and her whisper of " good night, Danse ." He didn't reply, hoping she would believe he was asleep. 

  Vega sighed softly and Danse barely kept himself from jumping when he felt her back press against his own. He wasn't sure if the defensive sleeping position was really necessary what with his armor in front of the door and all, but he appreciated the strategic forethought. 

  It felt like he had only closed his eyes for a second, the rain pounding on the roof lulling him into a doze and then he was being blinded by a particularly vibrant beam of sunlight. Danse grunted, half-lidding his eyes to try and adjust to the light.

  He idly watched over the top of Vega's head as motes of dust wafted lazily through the beam, the paladin feeling weirdly peaceful and unhurried. As if he could take the time to simply observe the world. He noted that he had rolled over in his sleep, and so had Elizabeth. Backhand. Knight Vega . 

  His thighs were pressed against the jut of her knees, her elbows tucked into his stomach through the layers of their bedrolls. Backhand apparently slept with her hands folded beneath her chin, but her left arm was threaded up beneath the hem of her shirt to do so. It pulled the fabric to bunch just above the bottom of her breasts and only through extreme self control did Danse manage to exhale slowly through his gritted teeth, knowing that his face must be bright red. 

  He flicked his gaze back up to the sunbeam, feeling like a lech. What the hell was he supposed to do now? He could pretend like he was still asleep, but that may come at the cost of their progress. He'd rather not sleep rough yet again, although if it was beside Vega--

  No , Danse reprimanded himself sharply. Maxson had given him hell for his lack of self control the last time he had seen him. The last thing he wanted was to give Arthur the satisfaction of…

  Of what? Having something else in Danse's life that he could ruin or take away? 

  Danse reached out slowly, cautiously, taking hold of the fabric of Vega's sleeping bag and drawing it up and over her shoulder to preserve her modesty. Then, the paladin eased his body away from hers to rise, his back protesting a little when he stretched. 

  The sooner we get back to the Prydwen, the sooner I can get my armor serviced , he mused, still opting to let Backhand sleep a bit longer as he checked over their weapons and his gear.

Part Eight

[imagineredwood]

Request: You’re Juice’s Old Lady and you find out you’re pregnant. You’re excited to tell but when you do, he gets scared about being a father and he bails on you. You end up moving away and decide to raise the baby by yourself. When your water finally breaks, you end up delivering a boy, but you end up flat lining twice before doctors manage to bring you back. Juice hears about this and comes back begging for forgiveness and a chance to raise his son alongside you

Pairing: Juice Ortiz x reader

Warnings: Pregnancy, emotional hurt, abandonment, heartbreak, death(technically)

Word count: 4.5k

***This one is a little shorter since my other request with Juice and the unknown baby has a lot of similarities and I didn’t want to overlap ❤️ I also didn’t want to make this a quick jumping back into relationship thing since the request didn’t ask for it. I’m leaving it open to interpretation so that y’all can pick which ever ending you prefer.***

You looked down at the positive pregnancy test with tearful eyes, a watery laugh falling from your lips. Who knew that two little pink lines could evoke such emotion in you? You couldn’t say for sure, but if your math was right then you were about six weeks along. It wasn’t much, your tummy not looking any different, the baby the size of a mere sweet pea, and yet there was an overwhelming sense of joy that came over you. Your brain was flooded with thoughts of baby clothes and nurseries, baby bottles and onesies and your smile was ear to ear. With your heart beating a mile a minute, you left the bathroom and went into the bedroom. Your eyes fluttered closed and you willed yourself to relax some. At least enough to go over into the living room where Juice was sat watching TV and show him.

Neither of you had been planning for it, this pregnancy likely to be as much of a surprise to him as it had just been for you, but it was still a beautiful thing and you were sure he was going to agree. Taking a series more of deep breathes, you calmed your nerves some and looked down at your tummy.

“Let’s go tell daddy.”

Your feet were soft as they padded across the floor until Juice came into view, shirtless and only in sweats as he laid across the couch. He had one arm crossed behind his head and the other resting across his own stomach. Your smile was soft as you looked over the man that you loved. You had heard all the warnings beforehand, about how Old Men were never held to the same standard as the Old Ladies. How they never committed as much as their Old Lady did. How it was often one-sided. Juice had proven all those warnings wrong rather quickly. He was been near perfect from the beginning, always having been considerate and attentive, respectful and committed. He had been as close to the perfect Old Man as you felt you were ever going to get, and the thought of beginning a family with him was filling you with joy. You smiled brighter as you walked up to the couch to give him the news. In a way, you wanted to do a cute gift to reveal the surprise, but your happiness was too overwhelming and telling him as soon as possible was your choice.

You walked around the front of the couch and Juice smiled as you came into view, his hand reaching out to stroke against the skin of your passing thigh. Pulling his legs in some so you could sit beside him on the couch, his tired and heavy eyes stayed on you. Your happiness was palpable, and he tapped his knee against you.

“What’s got you so smiley?”

Your grin only stretched further, and your hand jutted out to hand him the pregnancy test.

He looked down at the white stick and his smile dropped immediately. You laughed softly, what you perceived as shock amusing to you at that moment. His eyes shot back over to you and any traces of tiredness were gone now. In place of the sleepy heaviness was now a pure panic and he tossed his legs back over the front of the couch, sitting up straight now. He took the test for your hand none too gently and peered down at it. You watched him with your smile still in place, waiting for the moment when the shock cleared up and the happiness set in. His words caught you off guard.

“This is a joke, right? Please tell me this is a prank.”

His eyes were burning into yours as he looked for any trace of humor. When he came up empty, he turned his body toward you more, his voice louder, more frantic now.

“Baby tell me this is a prank. Chibs and the guys put you up to this to fuck with me, right?”

The smile on your lips slowly slipped away as you realized that he really didn’t believe it, but it wasn’t innocent disbelief. This was a hopeful denial and your heart started to rattle, feeling like it was going to drop any second.

“No, Juan baby, it’s real. I took a bunch, the rest are in the bathroom. This is just the clearest one. I’m pregnant.”

Your smile returned only a little in hope. The shaking of his head made it fade once more though. His body shooting up from the couch and starting to pace as he clamped his hands down on his head only made your stomach sink more. Your voice was small as your joy slipped away and an overwhelming fear started to bubble up in its place.

“Babe…”

He was silent for an agonizing 10 seconds before he abruptly stopped pacing and faced you.

“We can’t have a kid. We can’t.”

Your eyes were narrowed in confusion as you looked up at him.

“What do you mean, ‘we can’t’? We are Juice. I’m pregnant, I swear.”

The Son shook his head furiously then.  

“No, you’re not understanding. I’m not ready to be a dad. The club is a mess, we’ve got all these new deals coming up, I barely have my own shit together. How the fuck am I supposed to be a dad? How am I supposed to look after and help raise a kid when I don’t even look after myself well enough. Being a dad isn’t for me. It’s just,”

He shook his head quickly, more to himself than to you as his eyes peered at the floor. When they did finally look up at you, you could see that he wasn’t reasoning with you. He was informing you. He spoke it again though, just in case you weren’t getting it.

“I’m not ready to be a dad. I can’t be a dad.”

Your heart shattered and you had to force your voice to stay level despite the tightening in your throat as you tried to keep it together.

“Can’t, or won’t?”

At the pain in your voice, Juice sighed and took three long steps until he was in front of you. He dropped down to kneel in front of you, his hands reaching to grasp onto your bare knees as you sat there in front of him.

“I love you, baby. I love you. But I just can’t do it.”

You stared down at him and didn’t bother to hold the tears in anymore. They splashed down your cheeks, heavy drops leaving streaks down your skin.

“I’m not getting rid of my child.”

Your sentence was simple and to the point. Him being scared didn’t mean you were going to abandon the life you were carrying. Juice understood and nodded solemnly.

“I know. I would never ask you to do that, but I,”

He stopped, the words tasting bitter and burning his mouth like acid. He knew the pain he would cause to say them to you, but he hadn’t ever lied to you before and he wasn’t going to start now.

“You’ll be an amazing mother.”

Those words were the softest he could make them, the least painful way he could muster his rejection and still it felt as if you had been stabbed. There was a searing pain in your chest, your stomach twisted up into knots so tight it felt like your lungs couldn’t expand. You were blinded by tears and looked down at your lap in shock, Juice’s grip on your knees so tight your skin puffed out around his fingers.

“I’m sorry.”

Shaking your head, you pushed his hands off you and stood, walking hurriedly back into the bedroom, Juice still kneeling in place with his eyes glued to the ground. You went into the bathroom and locked the door behind you, staring at your unraveling reflection in the mirror. Your eyes were red-rimmed and teary, wet streaks down the skin of your cheeks. Your throat ached from holding in the tears and you quickly threw both hands over your mouth as the sobs finally started to escape you. You sank down to the floor, hands trying to conceal the anguished cries that wouldn’t stop no matter how hard you tried. Tears poured down your face and you hiccupped, vaguely registering the sound of Juice moving around in the bedroom. You could hear the drawers opening and closing and the visual of him packing a bag to stay at the clubhouse brought on a fresh wave of tears.

You weren’t sure how long you sat there weeping but when the tears finally stopped and your breathing leveled itself out, you were able to hear that there was no more noise coming from the bedroom, or anywhere in the house for that matter. It was utter silence save for the distant sound of a lawnmower down the street. You stood on shaky legs and spared a glance at yourself in the mirror. You looked even worse than before and used a trembling hand to turn the faucet. Splashing water on your face and cleaning the dried tears from your face, you stood and used the towel to dry, not even bothering to give yourself a once over in the mirror. You were feeling enough of the pain, you didn’t need to see it too. You unlocked the door and opened it, stepping out into the bedroom that you had shared with Juice for years now. You had always thought that the bond that you had was unbreakable. That the love you shared could withstand anything. How wrong you had been.

Looking into the closet, you saw some of his clothes missing, no doubt him having packed up to give you time. With a new numbness washing over you, you reached into the closet yourself and pulled out your overnight bags and luggage. You were sure that he would spend a couple of days over at the clubhouse and you wanted to make sure that when he returned, both you and anything that ever showed proof of you living there would be gone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

You cursed as you tapped your hand against the copy machine, frustrated beyond belief. You were eight and half months pregnant and everything seemed to bother you, but this copy machine had quickly become your arch enemy over the last week and you daydreamed about tossing it out of the third story window. Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath and tried to calm yourself, the shrill beep from the machine not allowing it. Looking down, you read the screen stating there was an error.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

There was a quiet laugh from behind you and you turned to see your favorite coworker Aiko standing with a grin. She walked the rest of the way to you, her jet-black hair hanging down in her face as she looked at the screen as well.

“I don’t know why they won’t buy a new one and get rid of this piece of shit. It’s not like they don’t have the money.”

You both laughed, knowing it was true. Multi-million-dollar company and they refused to replace failing equipment. You tried the machine once again and groaned as you got the same message. Aiko snatched the paper from your hand and tossed it into the trash bin beside the machine, wrapping her arm around your waist as best she could and starting to walk with you.

“Just forward it to me and I’ll have someone from the other department print it off.  Stop worrying about simple stuff. No need to stress out the little one here.”

She smiled brightly and leaned down slightly to coo at your tummy, sticking out and stretching your blouse. You smiled in return and continued walking with her until you both got to your cubicle. She leaned against the side as you sat down and looked down at your swollen ankles. Rolling your foot, you blew out a thankful breath, happy to be off your feet. Aiko tapped her hand on the wall and motioned out the window with her hand.

“You wanna just go ahead and take lunch with me now?”

Looking at your watch, you nodded with a shrug.

“Yeah, why not. It takes me an extra five minutes just to get down to the lobby anyway.”

Grabbing your bag and standing from your chair, you walked with Aiko down the hallway, offering smiles to coworkers who grinned at you and your pronounced bump. You took the elevator and made it down to the lobby, Aiko walking ahead of you some.

“You stay here, I’ll go get my car from the garage and pick you up.”

You knew better than to argue with her, yourself falling on the losing side every time. Not waiting for your response, she jogged out of the lobby, heading to the parking garage while you gave a yawn, your hunger finally announcing itself. You stood patiently as you waited, looking up and watching the birds fly in the sky with a smile. A sharp pain in your abdomen pulled your attention though and you leaned forward some, steadying yourself. Just as suddenly as it had arrived, the pain went away and you blew out a breath, standing back up straight. Your hand went to your tummy, rubbing gently but it did nothing to soothe the next pulse of pain, this one enough to have you doubling over. You rested your hands on your knees and braced yourself, your breaths coming quicker from the pain. The ache lasted longer this time and then went away momentarily, only to come back twice as bad. You dropped your purse down onto the ground beside you, your eyes closing as you tried to relax. The scene pulled the attention of two coworkers from the other department who jogged over to you. The older gentleman wrapped and arm around yours for support while the young new hire picked up your purse and clenched it in his hands, wide-eyed.

“You alright, ma’am?”

You nodded but said nothing, only for a sudden wetness to suddenly wash down your legs. It dripped down and pooled at your feet much to the horror of the new guy, who gasped and had to lean against the brick wall for support.

“Oh, Jesus Christ.”

Roger, who was much older and had four kids of his own hushed him.

“Relax. Everything’s fine, we just gotta get you into the hospital. Where’s your car?”

You pointed over into the garage, Aiko now visible as she pulled out of the exit.

“My friend was coming to pick me up.”

Seeing you doubled over, she rushed across the street, tires squealing. She was hopping out of the car before it had even come to a complete stop and running around to the other side where you were. She placed her hands on you immediately, leaning down to get eye level with you.

“Are you good, babe? What’s- “

She stopped as she saw the puddle on the cement beneath your feet and started to laugh excitedly.

“Oh my god, he’s coming. Shitty timing when we were gonna go get pizza but he’s coming!”

Wrapping her arm around your shoulders she helped you to the front seat, ordering the younger coworker to go to the trunk.

“Go get the bag that’s in there! Bring it to us.”

The ashen young man hurried to the back of the car and grabbed the bag before closing it and holding it out.

“Get out the towel.”

He nodded and followed her instructions, pulling the towel out of the bag and placing it onto the seat. Aiko helped you get in and put on the seatbelt for you, closing the door behind you and running around to the driver’s side, yelling at the two men as she did.

“Tell them we’re gonna miss the meeting at 2!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

Aiko paced around the waiting room as she thought. She has thought that everything was going to go smoothly. She’d thought that you would deliver your son and be happy, enjoying your new child with your best friend at your side. Instead, things had gone wrong almost immediately when you were both in the delivery room. Your pains became sharper and sharper until they were unbearable. She could see you drifting in and out of it until suddenly you went still, and the heart monitor went from its pronounced beeping to one flat running tone. It was all a blur then, the nurses rushing her out as they started to work on you, the doctor shouting for a hemorrhage kit. It was pure chaos that broke out and now there she was, hands trembling as she walked back and forth, your phone in her hand. She looked down at it, her wheels turning.

When she had first met you, you both had clicked immediately. You had just moved into town and the fact that you were pregnant told her that whatever you had come from was a less than savory situation. She had taken you under her wing then, helping you get the new job, a nicer place, going to your appointments with you. She had taken on the role that Juice would have played, had he been man enough to stick around and care for the life he helped create.  

‘I’ll be the daddy, fuck him.’

That was something that she had always said, both because she meant it and because she knew it made you laugh. There were plenty of nights though where the humor and jokes melted away and it was just raw pain as you leaned on her, explaining the life that you had once had at the side of a Son. She was a bit more understanding then. No way in hell would she ever like Juice, but the background answered many questions. It was one night filled with rain and tears where she had brought up the offer and you had agreed reluctantly.

If anything ever happened to you or the baby, she was allowed to call Gemma and let her know. Juice may have fucked up, but the rest of SAMCRO was still your family and you understood that it would be fair for them to know. Aiko had made the pact with you and had joked that it was a nice clause, but it wouldn’t be needed. Now as she stood there though, worry consuming her after them having to revive you twice already, she knew that hypothetical plan was going to become a reality.

Unlocking your phone, she searched through your contacts and held her finger over Gemma’s name. She hesitated but then clicked it anyway, bringing it up to her ear as it rang. The woman’s voice had a slight rasp but happiness as it came from the other side, excited to see that you were calling her.

“Long time, no talk. How’re you doing baby?”

Aiko swallowed and stammered slightly as she responded.

“Hi, I’m her friend actually, she wanted me to call you. We’re in the hospital. Something went wrong.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~```

You smiled down at your son as you held him in the rocking chair, Aiko sitting beside you, her long nails running over his arm softly. You both sat in silence, exhausted from the day’s events. It had been a rough delivery and you had been out with no recollection of most of it. An emergency cesarean had been the best choice and that was how your son had come into the world. Despite the complications that you had had, he was perfectly healthy. He was bright and energetic, loved from the start, and he looked just like his daddy. Your first look at him was like looking down at Juice and even Aiko had seen the resemblance from photos you had shown her.

You knew she had called Gemma like you both had agreed on and she was on her way with Juice. To be fair, once you had recovered in the hospital you had wondered if it was necessary. You were better now, having mostly recovered as far as any complications went. Now it was just healing from the c-section. You were on your first week of maternity leave now and even Aiko had used her saved up week of vacation to be at home with you to help look after you. Leaving you alone wasn’t an option and she had been there for the last two days since you’d been discharged, sleeping in the spare room to be around whenever you needed her. Gemma had agreed that it would be best to give you a couple of days to settle in before they came down.

Part of you didn’t want Juice to be able to see him. He didn’t deserve to get to hold the precious child he had turned his back on, but it wasn’t about you anymore, nor was it about him. It was about your son and what was best for him. Getting to at least meet his dad was only fair. If Gemma’s timing was right, they would be here shortly.

While you waited, you put the baby to sleep and sat in the kitchen while Aiko made lunch.  You both talked and ate, laughing and joking, only stopping when you were interrupted by the sound of the doorbell. You both looked away from each other and hesitated, Aiko standing and holding her hand out to stop you.

“I’ll get it, just relax.”

With a nod, you allowed her to get the door and she disappeared. You could hear the door opening, voices quietly talking, followed by footsteps and before long, you were looking at two faces you weren’t sure you were ever going to see again.

Gemma was wearing a bright smile while Juice looked terrified. You leaned forward to get up, pressing against you bandage across your abdomen as you did. Aiko quickly came to stand by your side, helping you up into standing. He held you for a moment longer, making sure that you were entirely stable before she released you and motioned to both Gemma and Juice. Gemma stepped forward first, taking you into her arms gently, being careful with you. She left a kiss to your forehead and looked into your eyes.

“I missed you, sweetheart. Jax sends all his love. Nero too.”

At that you smiled, a sense of longing and nostalgia coming over you as you remembered the people who were your family. Even the time and distance hadn’t changed that. Pulling away, she smiled at Aiko and motioned for her to come with her to the living room. Your friend hesitated, eyes on you to make sure that you were ok with being alone. Once she received a nod from you, she relented and went with Gemma, leaving only you and your ex Old Man standing silently in the kitchen. He was the first one to speak, his eyes locked with yours.

“Hi.”

You weren’t sure if it was the hormones, but you had the urge to throw something at him then. After all he had done, that was the first thing that he said? Your lack of a response spoke volumes and he dropped his head then, shaking it.

“I’m really fucking sorry.”

The fact he could barely look at you showed that he was disappointed in himself and that meant something. Your voice was tired when you spoke.

“Juice.”

He looked up quickly, eyes wide.

“Come sit.”

You motioned to the table where you had just been sitting and he quickly walked over. He reached out for you as you tried to sit and despite the irritation he could see you display, he grabbed you anyway, one hand on your back and the other on your arm as he helped you get into the chair safely. He then went and sat down himself, hands fidgeting as he clasped them together on the top. There was silence for a while before he finally started talking.

“I know that there isn’t ever gonna be anything that I can say that will make up for what I did. I abandoned you and our kid, and nothing will ever fix that. Nothing will make that right. I was wrong, and I was stupid, and I was scared, and I forced you to have to deal with that. You had to deal with my insecurities, and I won’t ever be able to tell you how sorry I am.”

His voice broke toward the end and no matter how shitty what he did was, it still brought a frown to your face. You stayed quiet though and let him continue. After taking a deep breath, he did.

“I was fucking stupid. I never thought that I would find someone that would be worth having a family with, then I found you and I was so scared that it was coming true I didn’t know what to do. I’m a fuck up. I’ve always been a fuck up. Half the time I didn’t know why you ever bothered with me, but you did. I just didn’t want to fuck up being a dad. I felt like the kid deserved better. I thought you deserved better. God knows you deserved even better now. I want to be there though. I want to get to know him. I want to help you. I wanna be there when he tries new foods or when his teeth come in or when he starts drawing. I want to be there for him. I don’t want…I don’t want to be like my dad.”

His eyes held tears and he brushed them away roughly.

“I know I started this shit like him, but I swear to you that I’m not gonna finish it like that. I get that you probably hate me and don’t want anything to do with me. I get that. I just hope that you can forgive me. I just really want to get to know my son. I want to help raise him. I won’t fight you on anything. I just wanna be there. Here. Wherever. I just want my family. Please.”

He was begging by the end, something you had never seen him do before. He was pleading for a second chance and even if you weren’t sold for yourself, you knew that he would make things right with your son. You took a deep breath, your own emotions on a roller coaster as you looked at him, his hands trembling as he awaited your response. Blowing out the breath, you sighed and motioned for him to come over and help you stand. He jumped up quickly and helped you back out of the chair.

“Follow me.”

He listened and fell in line behind you, following you as you walked to the nursery. You used your hand to motion to the crib and he looked at you wide-eyed. Finding a smile, you pushed him gently forward.

“Go meet your son.”

[zwiezraczek]

Hi, can I ask you to write something with Four from 6 underground with number 5 and 9 where the target is a young lady so he should flirt with her but he fails so the reader take his place. Then when the mission is over the reader teach him how to flirt, because she has a crush on him, and he becomes super shy because he feels the same. Forgive me if it's not clear but English isn't my first language and if you have any problem to understand don't you worry, I'm not the best at explaining 😅💕

Who's The Flirt? [Blurb]

Note: Thanks for the blurb request love! Don't worry, English isn't my first language neither BUT in top of that I'm bad at understanding things in general haha ~ Hope you'll like the blurb! 💕

~~~~

You were laughing with the whole team after seeing Four in action today. It was different, it wasn't his usual self out there, it was a scared and goofy man trying to get into his target's head, without any success really. One believed in his beautiful pearly-green eyes, but he underestimated his inability to flirt properly – an inability that probably made you fall for him a bit, a little bit too much. Nonetheless, you were laughing in the car – with Two even smirking – as he came back, pouting and sat at the back of the car, next to you and crossed his arms.

“Don't say a fucking word,” he warned all of you but Three didn't seem to take this threat too seriously.

“How did you call the lady again,” he asked, covering his mouth to prevent himself from bursting into laughter again.

“A beautiful flower from the desert he called her,” One added and he didn't bother to hide his high pitched laugh as Four gave him a death glare that looked like a kitten's one. “You're a genius Four, you're a genius.”

“That's not fucking funny you pricks! Not you Eight,” he said as he turned around towards you and you had a huge smile on your face, puffing out from the laughter you tried to contain. “Don't tell me it was ridiculous.”

“It wasn't,” you whispered to not laugh.

“She's lying,” Two cut you off, “you were looking desperate. It was quite entertaining, I liked it. One, can Four go outside again? I didn't have so much fun since forever.”

“No no,” One finally said with a straight face now, “we're sending Eight, we need these information as soon as possible and we need to have someone on this case from today.”

“Understood,” you replied as you unfastened your seatbelt and turned around towards Four, “watch and learn now.” You winked. He began to protest.

“But the target's a girl!”

“She may be bi,” you said as you were putting on a microphone and One simply nodded.

“Besides, we decided that you were the two on this case, so it's her turn now.”

“You'll see that I'm quite flirt,” you bragged about your skills.

Before Four could say anything, you were already out and walking towards your target. You had put on an angelic smile before bumping directly into her. You had to make it look as if both of you were in a romantic comedy, you made some of your belongings fall on the ground as you began to excuse yourself endlessly and she said that it wasn't a big deal really. Then, you brushed your hand against hers and looked up, and when she saw you you could notice her sparkling eyes as you somehow felt intimidated. That woman was really pretty and badass. You apologized again and again, and she just smiled before giving you your belongings back before asking for your name. Bingo. And you could almost hear Four complaining about what had happened.

~~~~

The idea was good, really good and One was proud to present to you the newest product of his imagination: the flirting lessons by you. Given to Four. On paper, everything was great. You only had to teach him how to flirt and how to not screw up missions – but he did it against his own will, because secretly he wanted to see more of a clumsy Four trying to flirt with women again. Simple. Maybe not so simple when you were struggling to not fall in love with him for the past year.

Since you had joined the Ghosts, you fought against your own feelings in his presence. The worst part was that you became pretty close friends during this time, as One paired you up because of your complementary talents – his parkouring and your picking locks ability – and your duo worked really well. He was the one looking for escapes always, while you were the one opening and closing doors so nobody would find you, and someone was always there with a gun ready to pull the trigger one the enemies. And you shared laughs together during the days off, when you were practicing one next to the other, in the middle of the desert under the burning sun and during the chilly nights. You shared stories, you drank beer from time to time and you even ate lunch together. And everytime somebody mentioned” the fact that you might be in love, both of you laughed it off, but you with a slight blush on your face, because you wished he felt the same as you did.

But right there, you had to actually flirt with him, for sport, to teach him how he could flirt himself. If it wasn't for the mission, it would be pretty stupid. He had something naturally appealing that you couldn't define, but as soon as he wanted to flirt he was unable to – and that was hilarious to watch. But now, you were about to teach him how to flirt, seriously flirt.

“Since when you're listening to One,” he asked you as he sat next to you in your usual training place.

“Since the man owns our lives, and practically feeds us and all of this you know, no big deal.”

“My flirting wasn't that bad,” he complained and you gave him an skeptical look.

“This woman was so easy to flirt with I only had to look her in the eyes so she would ask for my name and my number,” you retorted.

“Maybe because you have beautiful eyes,” he said and before you could say anything he continued, “whatever. How do we start all of this?”

“Go on, and show me how you flirt,” you said and looked into his beautiful eyes.

“Wow, what a roleplay,” he sarcastically said and you elbowed him.

“Okay, imagine we're at a party and I'm your target, and I'm not too difficult to flirt with okay?” He nodded and you looked away and started vibing to the music in your head.

“Excuse-me,” he said as he put his hand on your shoulder and you turned around. And even like this, he looked purely beautiful. “Well I was thinking... I'd like to kiss you... Joking... Unless?”

Strange feelings filled your brain. The shivers on your arms showed how effective It was on you, but the smirk on your face wasn't impressed, definitely. But there was something adorable in his way of flirting, and you knew that it could work on some people – and it definitely worked on you. But against the odds, you began to laugh and looked down as he sighed.

“That was excellent,” you managed to say through your laugh.

“Why are you doing this to me, huh,” he asked almost defeated.

“Look,” you said as you gathered all of your emotions together in order to look him in the eyes. “Four I... I think there might be something between us, don't you think,” you asked him before running your hands in your hair. He gulped. You put your hand on his while blushing from what you just said.

“I... I guess...”

“So you wouldn't mind if,” you continued, putting your hand on his cheek and coming a bit closer to him. You could feel your heart race inside your chest, almost pounding its way out as you were speaking to him. You began to shiver a bit. “If... I'd kiss you?”

“Wow... Impressive,” he said and you could feel his cheek becoming warmer by the seconds. “No doubt why you're better at that than me.”

You pulled away, with a little smile and cheeks burning red before gesturing to him to go on, and to do the same, or at least to try. He nodded and his face became serious for a long moment, he closed his eyes and you could admire his eyelashes and his peaceful face before he opened his eyes to catch you looking at him. He was already winning this game.

“Hem... Eight, I know that we just met, and that I shouldn't ask you this but...”

“But,” you asked and fluttered your eyelashes as he saw that he was tense.

“I think I want to know you a little more,” he continued as he came a bit closer to you, putting his hand on yours, shyly. “Would you be up for a date, or something like that?”

All of this was too much for you to handle. And without any hesitation, without any warning and any thought, you approached your face to his, put a hand on his cheek and kissed him, quickly. You still were in awe for acting like a teenager, a silly teenager almost confessing to their crush, but kissing them anyway. And you could see the confusion on his face as you pulled away, and then you knew you screwed up.

“I'm sorry, I shouldn't have,” you said as you began to get up but he caught your hand.

“No, don't be sorry,” he said and you looked at him, confused this time. “It took me a flirting lesson to get you to kiss me, I'm glad it worked.”

“You mean that...”

“Yeah, I always wanted to kiss you.”

You smiled. Maybe this flirting lesson wasn't a bad idea after all.

[buckysforeverprincess]

Can Our Love Survive? Ch. 14

Bucky Barnes x Reader, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, Sarah Rogers

Words: 1749

Warnings: Violence, someone is about to get beat!

A/N: Hello! We are almost to the halfway mark and now that these two are a couple things will start moving and happening. We’re starting to get to the good stuff now! Enjoy!

**TAG LISGT IS OPEN UNTIL CH. 15. PLEASE SEND AN ASK**

Thanksgiving was approaching quickly, and you and Bucky had been together for a month. The only people who knew were Nat and Clint and they were both keeping their mouths shut, letting the two of you set the pace for letting your group of friends know your truth. Hiding your relationship was getting harder by the day and you weren't sure how much longer your resolve would hold, and you’d end up blurting out your secret to everyone while sitting at the lunch table.

Bucky had told you Steve had reached out to him to talk, but your brother never carried through. Your boyfriend had waited around after school, but Steve never came. He’d ditched Bucky and now he felt he was back to square one. The entire thing was taking a toll on you and you knew you would hit your breaking point very soon.

“Hey baby?” Bucky kisses the top of your head. The two of you were wrapped up in a tangled mess of limbs, cuddling on your bed. This had become your favorite after school activity since you started dating. Steve never came home before six and your mom didn't get home from the hospital until around eight, so that gave you plenty of time together without the fear of being caught.

“Hmmmm?” You were so comfortable laying on his chest watching tv that sleep was starting to overtake you.

 “I think we should tell Steve.”

 You sat up and looked at your boyfriend puzzled. “Really? Why?”

 “Because I don't want to hide anymore, and I see the stress this is causing you. You've been so good, no attacks lately, but I feel the longer we keep this a secret the more we jeopardize your anxiety. I won't do that to you.” Bucky’s gently holding your face and you see the sincerity in his eyes.

“You really are perfect.”

 Bucky chuckles and leans in for a soft kiss. Kissing him has become your most favorite thing next to cuddles. “When should we do this?” Asking him as you pull away to grab your phone checking the time.

 “No time like the present. Let's just get it over with.” He gets up off the bed, putting on his shoes in case he'll need to make a quick getaway.

 “Well, Steve should be home soon, it's ten minutes to six and I need to start dinner anyway. Guess now’s a good time to have all hell break loose,” you joke and get up off the bed.

Leaving your bedroom. the two of you head out to the kitchen to start dinner. Pasta sounds good and is quick and easy and you have zero motivation to do something big. Bucky helps by grabbing the box of shells and sauce from the cupboard and sets the items down on the counter. He's become familiar with the location of certain things now that he’s spending more time in your home. You've never asked him to help, he just does and you're happy this caring, helpful man is yours.  

“What the fuck is going on?!” Steve's voice startles you and you turn to see a very pissed off Steve and an equally annoyed Sam standing in the entryway of the kitchen. Steve’s was in full alpha mode with his chest puffed out, looking like bull at a rodeo ready to strike. This could get ugly quick and you hoped you could diffuse this situation before it got any worse.

“Dinner is what's going on. Hope you're in the mood for pasta.” You turned away and focused your attention to the shells boiling in the pot on the stove, dismissing your brothers’ question.

“Answer my question Y/N! What is he doing here?!” Steve inches closer to Bucky, preparing for a fight. His fists are balled up at his sides and you know he could strike at any moment.

You turn around and place yourself between Bucky and Steve, making yourself a shield to protect your boyfriend. “My boyfriend is here helping me make dinner! The fuck are you doing here?” You redirect the question to Steve, using the same tone he’d thrown at you.

 “I fucking live here! And since when is he your boyfriend?” Steve yells, his face turning red. From the corner of your eye you can see Sam shaking his head in disapproval.

Bucky decides to take the lead and moves from behind you into Steve's direct line of sight. “For the past month,” he answers, “please don't be mad, Steve. We wanted to tell you and that’s why I’m here. We were ready to come clean and hoped you’d be accepting of our relationship. We’re sorry for hiding it from you.” Bucky apologizes looking directly at Steve, but Steve's eyes are locked on you.

“Seriously?!” Sam yells from behind Steve. “You couldn't get enough outta Brittany, you just had to come after Y/N too?!”  

 “I didn't do anything with that girl!” Bucky defends against the verbal attack. “How many times do I have to tell you?”

 Sam scoffs and shakes his head. “Since when is tonsil hockey nothing?! Why could you just leave her alone? She doesn't need you, you're no better than Brock!”  

Sam’s words ignite a fire in you and you've absolutely had enough. “How dare you talk to my boyfriend that way, and how dare you say that name in my house! I am sick to death of your shit Sam Wilson! Quit judging him on something he knew nothing about and trust me to be able to make my own decisions. Last time I checked I was still my own person!”

“He's just trying to protect you!” Steve joins in the yelling match, agreeing with his friend.

 “Protect me from what, myself?! I’m seriously damaged beyond repair, no one can fuck me up anymore!” You're facing your brother at this point, knowing he's got a rebuttal for everything.

“You're not damaged-”

 “Just fucking stop Steve!” You interrupt him. “I know what I am! And guess what? He knows it too, but he doesn't judge me for it. He cares about me, my feelings, my thoughts. Me! He makes me happy. Can't you see this is the happiest I've been in a long time? Why can't you just let me have this? What’s more important to you, the person I've been for the last year or me right now?” Your eyes are watering from all the emotion building inside you.

“I won't hurt her, Steve. I care about her too much,” Bucky says, coming up behind you and wraps you up in a loving embrace.

 “And when you do, we'll be the ones picking up the pieces just like before!” Sam's tone just as harsh and not letting up.

“God, you just can't cut me a break, can you?” Bucky steps away from you and moves past Steve to stand directly in front of Sam. “What did I do to make you hate me?”  

 “You think I can't see it? I'm sure there's a reason you moved here from nowhere Indiana. Probably got in trouble and this was your only chance at redemption. You're just another broken white boy that needs fixing and she's not your savior!” Sam has inched his way closer to Bucky, the two of them are practically breathing the same air.

“You need to leave, Sam. I won't ask you again.” You're staring daggers at him, the tone of your voice anything but nice.

 Sam scoffs and steps back from Bucky, his gaze now fixed on you. “You're joking right?! I've known you since the first grade, and you're siding with him after a month?! Obviously, Brock fucked you all kinds of wrong, because you are seriously fucked up in the head!”

Sam regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth, but it was too late. The damage had been done. It took all of three seconds for Bucky to react, punching Sam in the face, making the boy fall to the ground. In an instant, Bucky was on him, continuing his attack, landing punch after punch with no intention of stopping.  

Steve watches in a state of disbelief, but then comes to his senses and moves to the two on the floor trying to remove the brunette from Sam, but Bucky's body is just about as big as Steve’s and lifting him from the other man was a struggle.

 “Let go of me!” Bucky yells, trying to remove the grasp that’s holding him back from his target.

 “Bucky stop please! You're gonna seriously hurt him!” Steve pleads with an adrenaline filled Bucky, finally peeling him off Sam.

 “That's the fucking point!” Sam’s face has taken a beating, blood coming from multiple openings and cuts.

“What the hell is going on here?!” Sarah Rogers has entered the kitchen and assess the scene. She moves quickly, kneeling next to the bloodied boy laying on the ground. “Sam are you ok?”

Sam just groans in response, the fight taking its toll on him. “Don’t get up, let me check you out first. Steve…,” Sarah gets the attention of her son, “… get Bucky out and then tend to your sister.”

In all the confusion, you had been forgotten. You were sitting on the ground with your knees up to your chest trying to control your breathing, a panic attack had set it.

 Bucky removes himself from Steve’s hold and crawls to your side. “I'm so sorry baby!” He places his arms around your body and starts rocking you back and forth trying to offer comfort with his embrace.

“Bucky…,” you cry out, tears running down your face.

 “I'm here baby, I'm not leaving you.” His lips are peppering your head with tender kisses as he rocks you.

 “Bucky... what did you do?” You whisper and start to pull away from his embrace.

 “I'm sorry… I… he… fuck!” He stutters, unable to make out a complete sentence.

“Hey Bucky, let’s go.” Steve’s next to him, a large hand on his shoulder. “Come on, I'll take you home.” Steve's words are soft and there's a kindness about him.

Bucky hesitated for a moment and gave you one last kiss before standing got to his feet, his eyes never leaving yours. “I love you.” Was the last thing he said, turning to Steve and letting the blond walk him through the house, leaving you to watch your mother tend the boy who just took a beating at the hands of the guy you loved.

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[quant-um-fizzx]

Relenting

Synopsis: James Barnes had always been sweet, until he wasn’t. Somewhere along the way, your mutual attraction took a turn. Now, you can’t tell if he’s playing with you or playing you. Then, fate forces some honesty.

Warnings:  Dark!Bucky Barnes x Reader. Smut, Dub-Con (Sex Pollen, my friends), Language, (some) Angst, elements of stalking & emotional manipulation. Explicit, rough sex, slight anal play. Literally the most dirty talk I’ve ever written.

Word Count:  5900

If you’ve come here expecting the comedy erotica or angst I write elsewhere, this is not for you. 

This is for @darkficsyouneveraskedfor‘s writing challenge from the prompt: “Just a little more, baby.” (How we got here from there, I’ll never know.) 

I’ve labeled this Dark!Bucky, but he’s probably more gray than dark. But not the soft, uses-all-the-bath-salts-when-you’re-out-of-town Bucky I’d consider more canon.  

 *****

No one can pinpoint when, nobody’s ready to say it out loud, but Barnes came back different. Off. 

Wrong.

Might’ve been that mission in the Midwest (of all places to find that kind of cult) or when someone got it in their fool head to send him to verify exactly what the stone status was on Vormir. Your money’s on the veiled gateway rift that sucked him in but spit two out; he’d beaten his wild-eyed spare and flung it back into the void the moment it’d lunged for you. 

Chances are it’s not a solitary event, but the culmination of everything. One could hardly blame him if it were. 

Whatever, whenever, he’s not the same. Speech now often sly, maneuvering. Manners slipping into predatory where they’d always been soft.

Sometimes, you think you’re imagining it - cold glint like metal chips in ice eyes - that maybe you only see him differently because of failed romance. 

Now, he delights in flustering you. Taunting and near cruel one moment. Playful, protective the next.  Makes it nearly impossible to get a read on him. 

You find, in spite of your better judgement, uncertainty is its own kind of clever seduction. 

“Hey, I know this isn’t really my business, but whatever happened there?” Bruce inclines his head toward where Barnes stalks by outside the lab windows. His second pass since you started to prepping vials for transport. Dark, rough strides. He slips out of view and the lab seems colder. Sleek, sterile.  Your mind conjures up memories of sandalwood on fleece, in stark contrast to the lab’s xylene and bitter almond air. “Everyone thought you two were a good match.”

You smile, wistful. Mourning. “I had hoped so, too. But,” you sigh, “what makes good theory does not necessarily work in practical execution.”

Banner tsks. “Shame. Ever since you came on board, you both used to get along so well. Even now, he still looks at you like you ought to be picking out curtains.”

You scoff. “‘Used to get along’ until he...never mind. Whatever Sergeant Barnes might really want, it’s not that. And definitely not that with me.” He’d made that perfectly clear.

Suddenly, as if he’d heard you - but he shouldn't have, couldn’t have - Barnes pauses outside. His glance locks on your eyes. You fumble and clink the glass against the tray’s edge. 

Bruce shakes his head, gently using a tremendously large, green hand to steady the tongs you hold. “Careful there. Breaking that in here? Could’ve been ugly.”

“Doctor Banner,” you say, placing the final vial in its slot and trying to shift your attention from the man outside, “your report indicated that universal precautions were sufficient for international transport of these ‘classified contagion’ samples. As I have committed to hand-carrying them, despite possessing insufficient clearance to be privileged with details, if it would be best to utilize hazmat gear and airborne pathogen protocols, not only would I appreciate a full disclosure I would consider it your due diligence to do so.”

He nods. “You’re right. You’re right. It’s really an unknown at this point. I’m just being cautious. Using any iteration of the Hulk as a guinea pig is a scenario I strive to avoid.”

“Fair enough.” You click the lid closed, the half dozen tubes of churning red haze goo nestled securely inside. “Do I wait there for test results?”

“Nah,” Bruce says, already on the way back to his microscope. “Thorough runs could take longer than we can spare you here.”  

Smiling, you return your lab coat to it’s hook, smooth your hair, and give the station a once-over, making sure everything has been completed properly. This also serves as a welcome delay to going out those doors and encountering the long-haired enigma who has plagued your thoughts for longer than you care to admit.

“On second thought,” Banner says, peering up over the eyepiece. “She could have a prelim synthesis to send back in no time. Their tech is so different.” 

Taking a deep breath, you gather your gear and subtly check if Barnes is still nearby. Being off-kilter around him, while handling what you suspect is more dangerous than Bruce is letting on, is the last thing you need. 

Being around Barnes doesn’t feel cordial the way it used to. Warm banter that had felt safe.  

You can’t get a read on him, aren’t sure how you feel around him, about him. 

You don’t love him. Probably easily could.

You might fear him. Probably, definitely should. 

You do...care.

Lately, day in, day out, he’s there. Stalking along the periphery, a shuck peering out from woodlands.

He’s charming, affable enough for everyone else’s comfort. He used to be with you, too. 

Even in a crowded room, he  - sullen growl of a man - used to seem alone. The kind of alone that oozes off a person, rolls out from his shoulders. Used to it. Accustomed to it.

Trust only it. 

When you first tried - heart in your throat and skin gooseflesh - when you first stepped up to that guy, part matinee idol, part drive-in backseat rogue, he’d turned in on himself. Tried to force his large frame to disappear. Behind his barriers, he’d just watched you. Wary. Accessing.

But the next time he’d been holding the wall up, ale bottle in loose metal grip, you didn’t have to look for an opening. He’d lifted his chin and inclined his head toward chairs.

After that, the pair of you could be found engaged in long, private conversations. Content to let whatever ruckus go on around you. Foreheads nearly touching. Fingers not-so-casually brushing together. Your stomach flutters at the memory.

Now, his attention makes the hair on your neck stand up at least as much as it travels down your belly, between your thighs. Puts you on edge, mouse batted between paws. 

When you exit the lab, he’s waiting. Leans his back against a column, arms folded. Legs crossed at the ankles, pants taunt were they wrap around his thighs. His eyes flick to you, his only perceived movement. “Whatcha got there, Red?”  He draws each word out as if puffing smoke.

Your eyes go wide before you can stop them. Left corner of his mouth ticks up, goal met. 

The nickname startles you for a moment. It always does. He dusts the name off, digs it out once in awhile, just when you’ve almost forgotten. When you’ve let your mind scab over that single, awkward date. Forgotten how once upon a time, even his team thought you’d “be good together” and made that final push to fix you up. 

It had been right after the rift clone incident. If you’d not been so caught up in him - that red warmth that unfurled in your chest - you should’ve known. Paid attention to his shift, his change. The tragedy of it all.

You’d worn a crimson silk column dress, French twist, Replique dotted on pulse points. 

He’d worn black jeans and blood-dirt under his nails.

Peering at you over his menu, he’d dropped it down and motioned between you both. “You took this seriously, huh?”

Only just enough to have waxed everything reasonably prudent. 

Crestfallen, your shoulders dropped. Clearly, you thought, you’d misread the prior conversations, his lingering looks, mistakenly thought he returned your interest.

Cheeks on fire, you’d started to fold your napkin and push your chair back. “My apologies, Sergeant Barnes. I won’t take up any more of your time. You may return to the Olympic-level brooding of which you are so fond and I will retire for the evening.”

He’d thrown his head back, barked what might’ve been a laugh. “You’ll ‘retire for the evening?’“ Shook his head. “Red, you’re too much.” He grabbed a waiter - not ours, but Barnes didn’t let that stop him - “Bring us that special and a bottle of whatever makes uptight dames spread their legs these days.”

You sat still, mouth open, staring at your fork. 

He reached out, took your hand in his. Seemed to apologize with his eyes. They held yours, sky fading into sapphire. Held you without touching you. 

You look up behind lashes. “Dinner is just...we can have a good time. Talk.”  

“Yeah, let’s have the Blue Plate. See how it goes.,” he said. 

Then, the air had shifted, when he seemed...vulnerable...he pulled away. 

By the end of the night, the pulse pounds in your ears. You’d talked and laughed and when he walked you home, you knew you’d invite him in. You’d always known.  

He’d walked you to your door, eight-to-ten now-uncharacteristically chivalrous inches between your bodies on the way up the steps. Single bulb buzzing overhead. The key had proven elusive. Always on its ring and placed in the back pocket of your purse, your shaking fingers had let it slip down somewhere in your bag. 

He stepped in closer behind you, looking over your shoulder, breath passing over the shell of your ear. “You need a hand there?”

You jolted up straight, back bumping into his chest. “Thank you,” your voice cracked, “but I think I can manage unlocking my own stupid door.”  You inhaled sharply through your nose. “Excuse me,” you said, sounding mousy even to your own ears. “I didn't mean for that to sound so rude.”

“You didn’t, hmm?” He hums, breath slipping down your neck and he wrapped his right hand low around your waist.

“No,” you swallowed hard. Your skin on fire under his palm. 

“So, you’re saying you would like a hand...” He whispered, smoothing cool fingers down along the space between your hip and thigh. 

Limbs shaking, desire and curiosity and confusion swirling in your veins. You tried to find your voice, leaned against his chest’s blister strum. Shuddered as another warm breath huffed over your skin. 

“Y-yes.”

He spun you and you found your back suddenly against the cold, wooden door. His face hovered, lips barely an inch above your own. 

“As much as I think you think you want this.” He traced your collarbone, eyes burrowing into yours. “As much as I enjoy hearing your heart race.” His finger dipped inside your neckline, under the edge of your bra, skimming pebbled flesh. You shuddered, worried some neighbor might be looking, but unable to tear your gaze away from his. 

“Today’s your lucky day, Red. I am gonna leave ya jus’ the way I found ya.” He pressed himself against you, thigh wedged between yours. “‘Cause, if I stay here on this porch one more minute, with you an’ your wide eyes, smelling like sins you don’t begin to understand…” Stubble grazed your cheek. He hummed, words hot and heavy in your ear. “I think I’d ruin you.”

You wanted to grab his hand and hold it there. To ask him in and show what he did to you, to prove to him...to yourself...that this could be good. Special. Right.     

“You wouldn’t ruin me. I - I trust you, ” you squeaked, instead. Tentatively closed that fractional space, brushed your lips against his. 

He didn’t let it become a kiss. “You misunderstand me.” He moved back a bit, pulled his arm free and ran knuckles down between you, tracing your chest and then grabbing tightly around your waist. Pushed you, a quick snap, deeper into the door.

“I want to.”

Then, he’d bound off the porch and down the steps before the night air had even cooled your skin. Calling out behind him as he cut across the grass, “You aren’t ready, little girl.”

His words play back every night as you fall into fitful sleep.

Now, he looks at you knowingly. Like he knows where your mind was, that shared flickering old film reel memory.

You hold up the vials and manage a small laugh. It’s short. Belies your nerves. 

“Oh, I - I have some things to deliver to Shuri. To Shuri’s lab.” 

“Shuri’s lab.” He says, mouth moving as if rolling around an invisible hay straw. He still leans, unblinking, trained on you. 

A moment of silence as he considers you. Electricity buzzes across your skin. Words rush out of you to fill the void. “Shuri’s lab. In Wakanda. Shuri’s lab.”

His eyes crinkle, pleased as you stumble over your words. “Yeah, I’m familiar.” 

Of course he is. You’re supposed to be smarter than this. 

**

Across the hanger, Clint performs his pre-flight checklist. 

“Change of plans,” he calls out, back still turned to you. “Laura’s got me roped into filming a play tonight.”

“Okay,” you say, unable to fault her for wanting to keep Clint as retired as possible. “I need to put these samples back on ice then.” You start to head back when a shadow emerges from inside the jet. 

Clint says, dryly, “You’re going. Looks like I'm still the only one around here who doesn’t have a Wakanda stamp on my passport.”

Barnes peers down from the quinjet ramp, takes the checklist, and winks. Your stomach drops. 

Clint claps him on the shoulder. “Say ‘hi’ to those damn goats for me.”

Once inside the jet, Barnes gestures toward the insulated box you carry. “That it there? What did Barton call it? Funky Cold Medina?”

Of course. Yes, naturally. That’s exactly what it would be. Aphrodisiac Pheromones. Sex Pollen. 

The mystery of why evil organizations frequently leave a cache of screw-or-die juice sitting around abandoned complexes for wandering bands of Do-Gooders to uncover is as baffling as why they consider rampant libido to be a great offensive strategy in the first place. 

Nodding curtly, acting unruffled by the news, you brush past him and secure it in the cooler. 

**

The plane is at cruising altitude before either of you speak again.

“How long has it been since you’ve been to Wakanda?” You venture, throat tight.

He runs his tongue along his teeth, never looking away from the sky, then answers, “Haven’t been back since Strange showed up.”  He pauses, then continues, “Used to have a nice place there. Best view. Sunsets over still water.” Leans slightly out of his seat in your direction. “I think I wanna take you there.”

A smile comes over you, wide and almost hurting your cheeks. This glimpse of how he’d been, hope tingles along your arms. 

“I’d love that.” And you would. Have him let you in, return to where he’d been and who he was.

“Sure thing,” he says, voice lilting out on a devil smirk. “I could take you there. It’s...secluded. Make you scream.”

“Why do you do that?” The tingles take on a different tenor. 

“Do what?” He sounds believably innocent in the way a prostitute dresses up like a nun. 

You fidget, nails scratching a foreign itch on your palms, and chastise yourself, reminded again why it’s better when you don’t get your hopes up. Don’t act on your urge to spend time with him.  Your once almost more-than-friend...your wishful thinking...seems gone for good. Now, when he comes around, it feels like finding yourself suddenly teetering on a high ledge when you’d expected grass between your toes. 

“Why must you be so...so, crude?” 

“It is. I am. That’s the point though, isn’t it?  You like it,” he says matter-of-factly, looking you up and down, “Hell, you crave it. And that’s what’s got you confused, all tied up in knots.” He turns in his chair, arms bent and leaning on his knees, casual, is if he was discussing new coffee in the common room or a cell phone plan. “Because you’re stuck thinking the goal is a fella wife-ing you up,” he snorts.

“Hell, Red, you’re still stuck thinking you want a guy grunting on top of you Tuesdays from 9 to 9:10 with a meatloaf pan soaking in the sink.” He shakes his head. ”You have hangs-ups and I’m not gonna play along with them like that boring ass agent you wasted time on.”

“Stop,” you whisper. “Please, stop trying to scare me.”

He blows out a lungful of air. “It doesn’t scare you. That I could just take it. That I could have you - have you in all the ways that you won’t let yourself think you want. The thoughts you kill before you can admit them in the back of that beautiful mind of yours. I could have you every one of those ways. But, that’s not how I want it. Not how I want you. What scares you,” he says, leaning in. “What scares you is, that I won’t. I won’t let you keep fooling yourself about what you really want. 

“You know, deep down you know, that’s not how it’s gonna happen. You gotta admit what you need.”

He inches a little closer. “You’re gonna have to beg.”

Your heart stops, eyes unblinking. “You’re wrong.”

“No,’ he says, returning to the controls and beginning your descent. “No, you’re wrong - and I’m a different kind of wrong. I’m so wrong that I’m the only thing right.”

Your head pounds. Stomach lurches as the plane breaks beneath the clouds. “You used to be my friend,” you half-mumble, staring down at your knees. “Sweetheart,” he punches the word out, saccharine-sweet, “I was never meant to be your friend.”

**

Silence stretches out for several more minutes. Only the engine’s hum, lull and dense, barely bats at the thoughts raging in your mind. Barnes’ words, his presence, suffocates you. Even strapped securely in his pilot seat, it feels like he’s crushing your lungs.

The plane lands in an outlying region. 

“I should be back by four,” you spit, container swinging wildly from your fist. The walk is probably twenty minutes from here and you relish the idea of having the quiet to process things.

“Orders are I make sure you’re safe.” He falls in step.

You spin and push a single finger into his chest, stopping him in his tracks. “Your services are not needed, Barnes.”

“Don’t be like that,” he snaps, serious. “Just because you’re pissed at me for saying shit you don’t wanna hear, don’t put yourself in danger.”

“Danger? I think I’m infinitely safer out here. It’s Wakanda, the most advanced place on the planet!” You sweep your arms wide toward the city in the distance, towers like exclamation points jutting out of fields. “I’ll be fine. Besides, the plane could have flown directly to the palace but you’re the one who elected to land way out here.”

He pushes his hair out of his face, holding it up and off his neck. You notice the curve, the warm, inviting color of his skin. He looks out toward the trees, calm as anything, like your outburst never happened. “Guess I can check out the old stomping ground.”

Fighting the urge to flip him off, you march down the ramp, leaving him standing there. “By all means. Go have congress with a goat for all I care.”

**

Mid afternoon, as soon as you break the tree line on your return, he emerges from the woods. Appears freshly bathed in the river, mane wet and loose, shirt clinging to his frame. 

“After you,” he smiles, wolfish, and bows exaggeratedly, inviting you to go first up the ramp. 

Your eyes narrow, but you climb inside anyway. 

Suddenly, coming around from behind you, his hand reaches for the biohazard bag containing the single tube Shuri had sent back.

“What are you doing?” You snatch the bag away, crushing it to your body.

He throws his hands up in mock surrender. “Begging your pardon. Just trying to be a gentleman and carry your bag.”

“Knock it off, Barnes. If you’ve got a predilection for hearing every woman throw themselves at your feet, you can satiate it someplace else.” 

“Oh, I can. Just don’t wanna.” His eyes narrow on the bag and he wrenches it out of your grasp, tosses it unceremoniously into the cooler and slams the door 

You watch the cooler as if the door might burst open and the horny wrath of Hell take flight about the cabin.  When it remains undisturbed until Barnes completes the pre flight rituals, you finally allow yourself to breathe a little deeper and turn away from it.  

“And you wound me,” he croons, spinning his seat into position. “It’s not every woman.”

You roll your eyes, strap in, and swear you’re never giving him the satisfaction of hearing you speak again. 

That resolve, among other things, breaks over the Atlantic.

The air fills, flowery. Like a florist’s shoppe - oh. Oh, god no -  so many scents it feels fake. Cloying and sweet. 

“Wha-What is- we need to land!”

He holds his hand up toward the windshield, water as far as the eye can see. “No problem. Just shout ‘ahoy’ when you spot some dirt.”

You fling aside the belt and run toward the cooler.  Viscous sludge flows slick as mercury on the floor around it. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Barnes yells from the cockpit. 

You start rummaging through cabinets, looking for something, anything. “Maybe I can dilute it, cut the effects.” You open the cooler and pull the bag out. It’s ruptured, the vial broken and plastic cut, or eaten away by the chemical, it’s hard to tell at this point. 

“By touching it?!” He punches in codes hard enough the key clanks echo. “Stop, just - just wait. Wait two seconds until I can find out what’s what.”

You fling the near empty bag at the back of the plane. “You! You did this on purpose!” The plastic thumps, hollow against the metal door. A roaring, mute thing.

Barnes shakes his head once, hisses between clenched teeth, “You’re the one who smashed it against their chest.” 

Then, he cleanly switches tone - deep and clear - speaking into his earpiece. “Banner. Yeah, we have a situation here.

“The package Shuri sent back has been compromised. We’re mid flight, no safe place to put her down. Need to mitigate effects. Please advise.”  He pauses, presumably listening to Bruce, then purses his lips. “Nothing? Banner, are you sure?” Turns again, gives you a gauging look.

This can’t be happening. Can’t. You start to shake, knees going out from under you.

He keeps his eyes on you, touches the earpiece. “Nothing. Understood. Barnes out.” Then rips it off and throws it hard enough to shatter.

A thousand thoughts swirl at once. Is it really going to work? How long do you have? What if you go at it like rabbits who just got out of prison and then have to face him day-after-day? What if it works on you both but he resists? 

Preemptive humiliation, clawing feral behind your ribs, the terror of possibly being rejected if you, if you...finally admit...

Then, Barnes is there, crouched down beside you, offers you his hand. You wave it away. 

“Doll,” he says, soft, like one might coax a fawn to take berries. “It’s gonna be okay.”

Sniffling, you shake your head. 

“C’mon,” he says softer yet and backing up, giving you space. “Get out of that. Come, sit.” 

You look down and realize the liquid is seeping toward you. Some on your leg. Scrambling past him you make it to the other side of the cabin and slump back down to the floor. He moves away from the spill, but keeps his distance, placing himself on the other side of the aisle. 

“Why?” Betrayal pours out of you.

He sits down on the floor opposite you. Legs bent and knees up, hands clasped and hanging between. “You gotta believe me, the very last thing I want is something happening between us that’s not real.”

You stare at him. He seems so genuine in this moment. But, you force focus, because this is how he always is, right before he pulls the rug out from under you.

When you don’t reply, he breaks the silence again. “Besides, maybe it doesn’t even work. Hasn’t kicked in already. That’s a good sign. I’ve been around that type of shit before,” he pauses, looking off to the right, unfocused on something that isn’t really there, remembering some horror you don’t want to contemplate. “It’s not always so bad.” He shrugs, picks a string off his pants. “Even if it is, if it is...bad, I know I can hold off.”

You can’t look at him. Not when his voice is soft and his words are kind and he reminds you so much of the man you fell...the man you...

dammit.

He gets up slowly. Checks the autopilot. Eases back down where he was. Boots scuffing out in front of him along the metal floor.

“Did you mean what you said?” You venture. He just raises his eyebrows. “When you said you wanted something real with me-with us?” You elaborate, barely audible. 

He clears his throat, rearranges himself on the floor. Stares off at nothing. “Why else would I hold off all this time? At first, sure, I thought you were interesting enough. Probably good for letting off steam.” He looks to you for a moment, then away again. “Then, you just sorta snuck in. Took over. You and your little button up sweaters.” Gives a little chuckle. “Fucking seduced me with your cardigans and ‘Nova’ recaps.” 

Mulling it over, you start to ask, “Then, why do you-”

“You know why.”

He blows out a lungful of air.  “Because I’m not settling for half-ass. Never had much. But they always find a way to take even more.” 

So torn up in your own stupid fears - selfish, petty girl - you never thought about his lot in this. A sob punches out of you. Made and unmade. So many times. Here’s another time, one more damned time, he faces control of himself being torn away.

You don’t know how long you sit there, crying into your hand. Eventually, he swipes a tear from your face. 

He scoots back away. But his touch...lingers. He watches you trace where he’d been, little lightning strikes that turn and shift, then burn. Burns past your skin, thrums in your veins.

“It’s happening.”

“Nah, Doll. We’re halfway home, we’re not gonna do anything we don’t want to do.” 

His voice, coffee rich and smoke, settles in your belly. Your hips clench, rock. You think, this must be the cusp, there’s more to come, but you want to tell him, show him...feel him before you’re so far gone it’s a blur.

Hazy want swirls around him, poppies and violets and jet fuel in the air. Your hand sneaks up under your shirt, the rough outline of it juts out over your breast. He’s sitting up now. Licks his lips. 

“I can’t - noooo,” you say, breathless. It’s scorching now. Boiling, latent want bubbling up. You pull your shirt off, burning.

“I can’t wait,” you plead. He looks so good, always looks so damned good. “I don’t want to wait.”

His back goes straight. Muscles tense. Ready to pounce. 

“Not like this.” His breath has picked up. “Not if you think you can tell yourself later that it was chemicals talking.”

“You want real, Barnes? I’ll give you real,” you purr. Stretch out lythe before him. It’s not so bad, but you know it will be. “I do want this. I want you. Always have.”

He smiles, crooked, but doesn’t move. “That’s nice. Real nice to hear.” Watches your hand go under your clothes, between your legs. “That’s not enough. I could’ve had you back then. Back on your porch. Had you a couple times. Taken the edge off. Maybe gotten it outta our systems. But,” he stops for a moment, seeming to reconsider when you moan as you slip between your folds. He palms the hard length of him. “that’s not enough. I want all of you.”

Electric yearning rolls your shoulders, pressure between your legs frustrating. “Please.”

“‘Please’ what?” He shifts again, watching you, sweat forming on his brow. Fists clenched at his sides.

“I don’t want to date you, Red. Don’t wanna be your boyfriend or any fucking trivial thing like marriage.” Stares you down, blue boring into your soul. “I want more than that meaningless shit.”

Your mind is nothing but the want of him - broad shoulders, his gravel-tired voice, the thick of him. 

Skin on fire with tremors. “Anything you want, Bucky. Everything. Please. I just, just-” you moan, a twisted mess on the floor before him. Voice a shuddered breath.  “You’re right. I want you everywhere. Mark me up. Show me - show me you own me.”

“Fuck yeah, I do.” Then, he’s there. Hands holding your jaw, angling you open, tongue a deep slide. He breaks free, swallows your breaths, presses his head to yours. 

He’s out of his clothes while you fumble with what’s left of your own. They start to rip. “Shush. Let me.” Deftly, he undoes them, sets you free. “You need to wear these later. No one gets to see but me.” His eyes sparkle mischief until the thin sky edge gives way to black.

Cool fingers slide inside you. One, then two. Curl and pump, wet and obscene. Moments and, you’re there. “I’m gonna...I’m gonna come.”

He doesn't let up. “Yeah you are. Give it to me.”  Your head falls forward, clinging, hanging on through a silent scream, wet rushes past his wrist.

“My turn,” he snarls. Towers over your, pushes a finger past your lips, hooks it around you cheek, and pulls you to his cock. Pressure and he angles your face up, finger replaced by thumbs at each side pulling your mouth wide - drool pooling - and pushes the tip onto your tongue. 

You give a tentative lick. Try to work the girth of him while he holds you open. “Look at me,” he says, hair a veil framing his face. “You can do better than that. Don’t hold back.”

You keep your eyes on him, nudge his hands away, work him halfway down, salty musk on the back of your tongue. 

“This ain’t about you being passive, Sugar. Come on. Show me what I do to you. Fucking treat me right,” he growls, grabs your head and shoves as you gag. “I didn’t spend months coming in my own hand, thinking about you, biding my time - waiting to do this right - for you to barely-” 

Fast, determined, almost angry, you swallow him down as far as possible, eyes wet and blurred.  Find the spot behind him, between his legs, warm, heavy, and rub in tight ovals. “Fuuuck - yesssss.” He twists your hair in his hands - holding you in your place. 

“That’s it. Oh god, Sugar, you didn’t just come up with that. What else you got hiding, waiting to show me? So fuckin -“ he shudders as you massage him more, pinky brushing farther back. 

He laughs, surprised. “Dirty girl.” He pulls out, then wraps his hand around your neck, squeezing himself there as he pushes back in. “You got the sweetest goddamn throat.” Thrusts while you run your circuits until he empties himself, head thrown back and thighs straining.

He moves faster than should be humanly possible, unfurls his jacket over the floor grid, and pulls you over it. Wads his shirt under your knees.

“Floor’s hard,” he says, chest rising and falling rapidly. “I only want you feelin’ me.”

“Spread.” He smacks your ass with a sting.

You obey, arch your back, offer yourself. He dives in with his mouth, tongue in deep. When he starts to thumb your clit, constellations bursting behind your eyes, you stop him. “In me. I want to come with you inside me. Only with you inside me.”

He smiles, face slick with you. Straightens, grabs your hips and pulls you to him as he starts his slide in. 

You mewl, palms flat and fingers splayed. Try to relax through the stretch and drag, strain to take the rest of him.

He runs his hand over your spine. “Just a little more, baby,” he coos. “Fuck. Look at you. Takin’ me so good.

“You’re mine. The moment I heard your heart race, you were mine. When I made you wait, you were still mine. When I told you to beg for it and you did, you were mine. When I told you to spread your legs and you did it, you were mine.” He makes a final push, fully seated, sharp spark at your end. Holds you there, pulsing. Then, pulls out long, begins again. 

It’s everything you ever wanted. He was so right. So, so right and you can’t believe you waited for so long and you really need to thank Shuri for not inventing vibranium test tubes. 

“When that bastard wearing my face looked at you, looked at you like he had the right, that’s when-”  He moans long and low, makes a particularly full stroke, air sucking through his teeth. 

“That’s when I knew. No other man could have you. Even if that man was me.”

His hands dig into your hips. Anchoring you. He holds you open, watching. Cold thumb follows the line down the center of you. Stops above where you meet. Pad runs over where you’re tight and untested. 

“Pleeeease,” you keen. You need him. Need him everywhere. 

His hips falter, finesse sacrificed to curious need. 

“Has anyone been in here before?”

“No,” you mewl, debauched, wanton. 

His pace picks up. Harder, slamming, sting against cervix. “I need in there. Fuck. Sugar, let me in.”

Beyond words, you tilt your hips and push back, forcing him in knuckle deep.

“Only me,” he roars. “Promise me. Swear.” He angles over you, spreads you out, chest crushing to the floor. His free hand finds your neck. Pins your down. Breath harsh beside your ear.

“You. Only you.” You come, crying and clenching around him in all the places he is within. 

He pulls out. Kisses your face as he lifts you, turns you to him.

He settles between your waiting thighs - surrounds, nuzzles in, taking in your scent - until there’s nothing you can see, or feel, think, that isn’t him. 

Then he stills. Then watches. Then breathes.

Brushes his warm hand along the curve of your face. Presses a kiss, pillow soft. Weight pinning you down. He pushes fully back in, his head breaking skyward as you take him. 

Hips rolling full - the drag and curve brings him to your chest. His tongue slips along you breast, seeks and teases. Licks and pulls you in. 

His hands wrap around your thighs, anchors you, opens you up. Kisses deep and pushes in, until you’ve run out of you and he’s run out of him.

“Fuuuck, you feel so good. I knew you would. Thought about you every fu- every fucking day.” 

He stops for a moment, beaming down at you. You realize you were the one talking.   

“That’s my girl.” 

Then, he’s moves, ruts, whispers faint praise into your skin. Low. Can’t quite hear.

And you want to hear.

You want to taste his secrets and feel his sounds and listen to his mouth on you.

You push up into him, hard, matching him. You explode again, suddenly. 

“Fuuuuck.  He swells. Rhythm falters. Marks your walls. 

After, you tuck into his side, both of you curled up on the floor. His face is finally relaxed, serene. You press your lips above his heart.

“Bucky, I want you to know, I wanted this, I will always want this. I am yours. It wasn’t just the chemicals.”

He kisses the sweat and tears from your face. Tucks your hair behind your ear. “I know, Red, I know,” he says, eyes sparkling, voice sincere, “Bruce said there was ‘nothing’ to worry about. That wasn’t the pollen - that was just the antidote.”

[teaplease1717]

Title: Fireworks

Relationship: Todoroki Shouto x Yaoyorozu Momo

Chapters: 3 of 4

Rating: G+

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26685007/chapters/67766576

So...I went overboard. This was first going to be a one shot, then turned into a 3 part piece and now its 4 chapters!!! 

Shout out to all my betas for this work: FlourChildWrites, Emberstork, Crazyelf2018 and C’s Melody. 

Also, thank you so much Mardimari for the adorable art! I wasn't able to include it in the actual story because it's a gif, but please check this adorable art out!! Mardimari

XXXXX

“SHOUTOOOOOO!”

 Shit.

Shouto spun around, his gaze landing on his father’s six-foot-four frame marching across the crowded square. Hawks trailed behind him; they were both dressed in their hero uniforms. 

 People on the street parted to let them pass through. 

 Shouto tsked under his breath. It was just his luck to run into his old man when he was in a hurry.

 Their relationship had gotten marginally better over the past year. His father wasn't the overbearing and cruel tyrant Shouto remembered from his childhood. But there was still a sharp tension between them, an invisible wall that Shouto wasn’t ready or willing to tear down. No matter what Midoriya’s theories were about Shouto waiting for the right moment to forgive his father — that hypothetical day still felt like it was a long way off. 

 He didn’t trust that man, Todoroki Enji.

 Shouto kept waiting, watching, preparing for the day that the old Endeavor would emerge and burn everything down. And he felt more viscerally aware of that fact as he thought of Yaoyorozu being locked away by her own controlling parents.

 It made him angry just thinking about it, and Shouto glowered up at his father. “I don’t have time for you, old man,” he snapped, debating if he should just make a break for it. The anxious churning in his stomach, urging him to get to Yaoyorozu in time, seemed to only be adding to Shouto’s foul mood.

  He took a step around his father. "If you don't have anything important to say, I need to get going."

 “Shouto.”

 A large hand clasped on his shoulder, stopping him. Shouto looked up sharply. His father's bright turquoise eyes narrowed as he studied him.  

 “What’s gotten into you?”

  Shouto's chest tightened in irritation and he glared, but his father's hand didn't loosen on his shoulder.

 People on the street were stopping to stare. If he took any longer then he would never get to Yaoyorozu in time.

 Shouto swallowed his building anger. “I need to get to Aoyama," he said finally, in a tense voice, hoping his father would take a hint and drop the conversation.

 "What's in Aoyama?" Hawks asked suddenly, staring at him curiously. 

 Meddling bird.

 Shouto gritted his teeth. It wasn’t as if he really had anything against him. 

 Hawks was a good hero and more importantly, got under his father’s skin — a trait Shouto genuinely appreciated — but not today. He needed to get going. The ride to Aoyama and back would take the full two hours. And that was only if everything went right, which, so far, didn’t look like it was going to be the case. 

 "A friend," he bit out, avoiding Hawks' gaze. “I need to get to her before the fireworks start.” He reached up and brushed his father's hand off. "That’s why I don’t have time for this.”

 He pushed past his father. The interruption had cost him precious time. Shouto still needed to get to the train station and get a ticket. He hoped he wasn’t too late.

 “Shouto, wait!” Hawks called after him.

 Shouto paused, his hands curling into fists at his side. “Wha—”

 His voice broke as his body jerked backwards. He twisted his head quickly to look behind him, and his eyes widened. Dark red feathers darted through the air, lacing together on his back, and forming auburn wings.

 “You have someone important you want to meet, right?” Hawks asked. Shouto’s gaze darted back towards him in shock. The number two heroes’ yellow eyes glittered in the fading summer light. “At this hour, it’ll be hard to get anywhere in this crowd. This way will be much faster.” He gave a thumbs-up, and a strange tingling sensation filled Shouto’s stomach.

 He swallowed. 

 Someone important. 

 Was Yaoyorozu someone important to him?

 He had never given it much thought. Certainly, he admired and looked up to her. She was a good friend and fellow classmate, an outstanding hero in training.  But, did that make someone important?

 His stomach clenched. Midoriya and Iida were his friends too, but would he call them important? Probably. Yet, this felt different. Shouto didn’t know if he would race across Tokyo to see fireworks with them. 

 Somewhere in the back of his mind, Shouto knew he wouldn’t. He felt like he was on the verge of grasping some vital concept that had been eluding him. Emotions he wasn’t used to felt stuck in his throat like hot glue. They were the same feelings he got whenever his mother asked him about Yaoyorozu. 

 His heart pounded in his chest. The answer was right at the tip of his fingertips, but Shouto couldn’t grasp it.  

 “Hawks,” his father snapped, glaring down at the shorter man, his mouth opening and closing several times as if he couldn’t find the words. “What’s the meaning of this?”

 Hawks turned towards Shouto’s old man and smiled innocently. “Relax, papa, I’ve done this before. It’s perfectly safe.” 

  His father's face turned bright red. “Pa-papa?” he sputtered.

 If it had been any other time, Shouto would have gained immense satisfaction at seeing his old man’s face turn different shades of crimson. 

 But he needed to get going. 

 “Yaoyorozu residence," Shouto said quickly, his chest constricting. "In Aoyama. Near the shopping district,” 

 Hawks looked back at Shouto, and grinned, his expression turning playful. "Don't worry, I'll get you to your important princess."

 Shouto almost choked, but pushed the thought to the back of his mind. He didn't have time to think about Hawks' strange responses. His heart pounded in his chest.

 Suddenly, Hawks snapped his fingers and the wings stretched out behind Shouto. They beat against the air as Shouto's body rose off the ground. Dust puffed into small clouds off the street as the wings pulled him upward. He felt multiple pairs of eyes on him as people stopped to gasp and stare.

 His heart rose in his chest; a flicker of hope rushed through him. He could make it; with Hawks’ help, there was still a chance he could get to Yaoyorozu in time.  Shouto raised his head and met Hawks’ eyes. “Thanks.” 

 Hawks smiled, and for once, it looked genuine. Then the dark red wings beat once, then twice. Then he was airborne and racing across the sky.

 XXXX

 Enji rolled his jaw as he watched his youngest son fly up into the fading summer light. 

 “Hawks,” he ground out. His voice wavered with barely contained fury as he turned back towards the shorter hero. The flames on his beard intensified in anger. “I want an explanation.”

 Hawks hummed in the back of his throat. “Relax.” He tilted his head back to look up at Enji from the corner of his yellow eyes and grinned mischievously. “I just want to score a couple of points with my future brother and sister-in-law.”

 Enji choked. “Br-brother-in-law?” he sputtered, shock dousing his anger. It felt like the shorter hero had flown up and slapped him in the face.

 Hawks laughed. “They’re going to owe me big for this!”

 Enji stared at him, stunned.

 Brother-in-law?

 Sister-in-law?

 Hawks couldn’t – he didn’t mean Shouto? Did he?

 Wait! And what did he mean by ‘in-law.’ Enji only had two other children: Fuyumi and Natsuo. Hawks wasn’t implying... Was he interested in one of them?

 Natsuo, he thought, had a girlfriend, so Fuyumi…?

 No. 

 He couldn’t get distracted. Fuyumi and Natsuo were both smart. And they were old enough to make their own decisions. It was Shouto he had to worry about.

 This had to be one of Hawks’ jokes, but if it wasn’t…Was his youngest son really interested in someone?

 Enji felt his internal body temperature shoot up as his parenting mode activated. 

 No!

 No dating! Girls were off-limits, at least until after high school. They were a distraction. He needed to focus on his career and strive to be — Enji caught himself.

 No. 

 He couldn’t be like this. Enji had promised to change. He swallowed his temper and curled his hands into tight fists at his side.

 It was Shouto’s life. If...if he wanted to see someone — even though he was still too young — Enji would do his best to support him. He wouldn’t say anything to him about having a girl — girl...he gritted his teeth. He couldn’t even get the word to form in his mind.

 “Endeavor-san, we better get going,” Hawks said, cutting through his thoughts.

 Enji started and turned towards the number two hero. His eyebrows furrowed. “Where are you going?” he growled as he watched the other hero walk towards the crowd of people. The usual expansive auburn wings on his back had been reduced to tiny stubs.

 Hawks looked over his shoulder and raised an eyebrow. “To grab a taxi, of course. My feathers can’t carry two people all the way from Aoyama when I'm this far away. We need to go meet them.”

 Go meet them…

 He might meet the girl, his future daughter-in-law. Enji’s blood pressure spiked. No. He didn’t know that. He needed to stay calm.

  Enji drew in a deep breath and willed himself not to combust into flames as he slowly followed after the infuriating, meddling bird-hero.

  XXXX

 It was almost eight. The fireworks would be starting soon.

 Momo’s hands tightened around her knees as she sat perched on the window ledge and stared despairingly out over the busy Aoyama streets. Outside, the sky had become an inky midnight blue accentuated by the blinking, multi-colored lights of the city.

 Down below, ant-sized people and cars were packed along the roads and sidewalks. The designer store, Hermes, across the street was open, and she could see carefree shoppers browsing about through the floor-length windows.

 It seemed everyone in Tokyo was out tonight — except her.

 Momo leaned her head against the glass of the window. She needed to stop feeling sorry for herself. Her mother had a valid point. Ever since starting high school, Momo hadn’t had a chance to visit her father abroad like she’d done regularly back in middle school. 

 And to be honest, Momo couldn’t even remember the last time she had seen him… Christmas? That was over six months ago.

 Was she really so selfish that she’d prefer to spend time with her friends over her family? Hadn’t her mother taught her better? Blood was thicker than water. Family was the most important.

  Her toes curled. Honestly, she should be excited to get to see her father. Momo wanted to be excited to see him. But all she felt was a resounding hollowness in her chest. 

 What a spoiled child.

 Momo sighed and stood up and went to lay on her bed. Her hair fanned out around her on the silken sheets. She had taken it out of the intricate bun her maid had helped her with earlier. There was no point in keeping it up if she wasn’t going to see her friends. And part of her argued she should summon the energy to get up and change out of her crimson yukata. But she couldn’t quite bring herself to take it off yet. He had chosen it for her.

 Her phone buzzed on her nightstand.

 Momo sighed and closed her eyes but didn’t move. It was probably the group chat, everyone posting pictures, forming new bonds, and making memories while she was locked up like some princess in a tower.

 She frowned. Even for her, that thought was a bit dramatic. It wasn’t like her parents had actually locked her door or even forbade her from going. It was only a request to spend time together as a family. 

 Besides, even if that were the case, and she were locked away, this wasn’t the kind of situation a hero could save her from. If Momo wanted to be saved, she would have to–

 Her eyes snapped open, and Momo sat up as realization struck her. She wasn’t a princess; she was a knight, a hero in training. If she wanted to be saved, she’d have to stand up for herself.

 But would her mother hate her if she didn’t go to dinner with her family?

 Momo’s stomach clenched, and she felt her nerves start to aggrandize. She shook her head and brought a hand up to clench over her heart.

 Even if this made her a bad daughter, Momo had done everything to make her parents proud; surely she could make one selfish request? They couldn’t hate her for asking, could they?

 And it wasn’t as if she was going to spend time with people she wasn’t close to. These were her comrades, her precious classmates. They weren’t related by blood, but in a way, they were just as much her family as her parents were. 

  Momo cut off her thoughts as she slid to the edge of her bed. She drew in a deep breath and stood. Nothing was gained in life without taking a chance. Surely, Momo could summon enough courage to at least try.

 She was the ‘Everything Hero.’ Which meant she could make anything possible. Besides, Momo had fought the League of Villains, helped rescue Bakugo, stood her ground against engineered Nomus. How scary could it be to summon the courage to ask her mother if she could go see fireworks instead of having a family dinner?

 She licked her lips and swallowed over a dry throat. If it were Todoroki, he would do it. 

 Todoroki…

 Her hands curled into fists at her side. She had planned the whole night to ensure her classmates had the best time possible, but Momo couldn’t deny that she had wanted to see him. The boy she looked up to and admired the most, she had wanted to be with him tonight and see the fireworks again.

 ‘I’d like to escort you again.’

 That’s right, if it were Todoroki, he wouldn’t give up this easily. If it were him, he’d find a way to meet everyone. And if it were a reverse situation, she’d be the one telling him or any of her other classmates to find the courage to come meet everyone. So she couldn’t be a hypocrite now and not try.

 It may be scary, but Todoroki would tell her to believe in herself, as he had during their midterm against Aizawa. He may not be here physically to say those words, but that didn’t mean she was suddenly weak.

 This was her battle. Momo wasn't a frail princess; she was a knight,  a warrior about to fight her own battles.

 Her hands trembled slightly as she opened her door and stepped out into the hallway. Their dinner reservation was for eight-thirty. Her mother would still be in her room getting ready.

 Momo swallowed and then straightened as she began down the hallway towards her parent’s room.

 She could do this. She couldn’t let herself give up this easily.

 All she had to do was explain to her mother, clearly and consciously, that she had planned the whole festival event with her classmates, had made promises to her friends, and then ask her parents for permission to attend.

 It was simple, and yet her legs felt like jelly as she stopped in front of her parent’s door and knocked. Her mother’s silvery voice responded from inside. 

 Taking a deep breath, Momo opened the door.

 Her parent’s room was a mirror of her own but larger. A king-sized bed sat in the middle of the room, two white Italian nightstands standing guard on either side. White, engraved dressers adorned each wall. And, in front of her, her mother was seated at a beautiful ivory vanity, lipstick in hand. She caught Momo’s eyes in the mirror as she entered and smiled.

 “Oh good, I’m glad you’re ready.” Her mother turned her attention back to the mirror and uncapped the lipstick. “You look adorable in your yukata, dear. I’m glad you didn’t change.”

 Momo’s throat felt tight, and she swallowed, straightening up. She could do this. “Mother, I-I would like to request your permission to not attend dinner.”

 Her mother's hand paused as she pressed the lipstick to her mouth; her dark eyes met Momo’s in the mirror, and her expression flickered with confusion. “Momo? Is something the matter? Do you not want French?” she asked, capping the lipstick again.

 It could have been her imagination, but Momo thought she could feel her mother’s disappointment already radiating through the room. Her hands and the back of her neck felt cold. And part of Momo wanted nothing more than to turn around and run away. She hated disappointing her parents. She’d gladly fight a Nomu over having this conversation.

 But she couldn’t give up; she had to be brave and stand her ground.

 Momo shifted on her feet and took a deep breath to calm her rapidly beating heart. “I’d like–I’d like to see the fireworks with my friends…please.”

 Her mother frowned. It was a graceful pout on her lips, and Momo’s stomach instantly twisted with guilt.

 Her mother put the lipstick back down on the counter and turned to face her. “I thought we discussed this. Next winter, we’ll go see the New Year’s fireworks in Paris.”

 Momo swallowed. She could hear her heart pounding in her ears. “I know.”

 Her vision was turning blurry, and she sniffed, willing herself not to cry. If she cried. everything would fall apart. Her parents would think her spoiled; they wouldn’t take her seriously. “I know–I know you wanted to have dinner as a family, mother. But, seeing my comrades and classmates is important to me. I would like your permission to go meet them.”

 “What’s wrong, dear?” A deep voice suddenly sounded from the bathroom, and Momo’s chest tightened. Her father stepped into the room, looking between the two women as he fastened the monogrammed cufflinks on his shirt.

 Her mother stood up from her vanity. “Momo doesn’t want to go with us,” she said, her expression hurt.

 “Momo?” Her father’s eyes flickered to her. “Is that true, dear?”

 Momo bit her lip and met her father’s stare. The need to cry was growing stronger. She curled her hand over her heart. “Father, I–I know I haven’t seen you in such a long time, but I planned tonight with my friends. I wanted to make sure everything went perfectly, and everyone had a good time and…and--” She hiccoughed, and the tears she had been trying to hold back began to leak down her cheeks.

 She had ruined it. Momo was supposed to be strong and lay out her points clearly and concisely, but she had failed. Her parents would never let her go now. Her mother would purse her lips and tell Momo how unladylike she was being—how selfish and petulant she was acting.

 For all her efforts, she’d still miss the fireworks, and she’d miss seeing Todoroki…

 But then, her mother did something she wasn’t expecting.

 As the tears ran down Momo’s face, the older woman cried in alarm and rushed to her side. Wrapping her arms around her gently, she held Momo to her chest. “Momo, dear, I didn't realize you felt this way. You should have told me it would make you this upset.”

 Momo stood pressed to her mother’s chest in a mixture of shock and fear. She could feel her tears staining her mother’s blouse but didn’t know what to do. It had been a long time since her mother had last held her like this.

 Momo hiccoughed again as the shock subsided, and the worry and fear settled in. “I’m sorry, mother. I’m sorry. I just-I just really wanted to go. I was looking forward to it all summer. I know that makes me a horrible daughter, I’m sorry —”

 “Hush, don’t apologize.” Her mother smoothed back her hair. “I didn’t realize how much this meant to you. This isn’t anything to cry over. Maybe we can make it up to you?”

 “When does the firework show start?” Her father asked.

 Momo sniffed. “In an hour.”

 Heavy footfalls grew closer. “Then, you can’t be stalling.”

 Momo pulled away from her mother and looked up, eyes wide.

 Her father stopped in front of her and reached up and laid his large hand on the top of Momo’s head. His expression was softer than Momo could ever remember. “Go have fun. I’ll ask my secretary to reschedule my flight, and maybe we can have breakfast as a family tomorrow morning? How does that sound?” he asked softly as he removed his hand and stepped back. 

 “Dear? Are you sure?” Her mother asked quickly.

 Her father nodded. “Momo doesn’t want to hang out with two old people.” He winked at her.

 Momo’s lips twitched. “Thank you, father.” She let go of her mother and pressed up on her toes to kiss his cheek.

 He smiled and patted her shoulder. “I’ll call a car to take you. You better hurry though, the roads are packed.”

 “Come here, Momo, dear.” Momo smiled shakily as her mother led her to the vanity and sat her down. “Let me at least do your hair. I won’t have time for anything fancy, but we should at least put it up.”

 Momo’s lips trembled as she watched her mother pick up a brush. She had done it. She had fought for herself and created her own miracle.

 She would get to see the fireworks with everyone.

 She would get to see Todoroki.

  XXXXXX

 Shouto’s body jerked as his feet hit the pavement, and he stumbled slightly, catching his balance.

 People looked over curiously, but Shouto ignored them as he studied his surroundings. Tall, modern buildings made of steel and glass rose up all around him; their windows full of luxurious brands Shouto had never heard of before. He hoped he was in the right place.

 A sign on the street corner read ‘Aoyama’, and Shouto felt his heart stutter with relief. He had made it.

 There was an abrupt prick along his shoulder blades. Shouto glanced back as the red feathers began to dissemble, darting away into the night, presumably back to Hawks.

  Shouto felt his stomach drop in disappointment as he watched the feathers disappear. He couldn’t deny a small part of him had imagined Yaoyorozu’s expression when she saw the wings. It was a silly thought. Shouto shook his head, clearing the image from his mind. He sent another silent thanks up to Hawks and then pulled out his cellphone.

 According to Jirou’s text, Yaoyorozu’s building was across the street. He felt his stomach clench slightly as he stared up at the glass skyscraper with gold detailing. The building was tall with at least thirty floors.

 He knew Yaoyorozu was rich, but it was hard to wrap his head around the fact that her family had a penthouse in Aoyama, the richest area of Tokyo. He’d just have to do his best. He curled his hands into fists at his side and headed towards the door.

 A security guard sat at the front desk, reading a newspaper. He looked up as Shouto entered.

 “How can I help you?” he asked slowly, looking Shouto over.

 “I’d like to go to the Yaoyorozu’s.”

 “And you are?”

 “I’m a friend of their daughter.”

 “Do you have an appointment?”

 Shouto’s shoulders stiffened, but he tried to keep his face impassive. “No, but it’s important,” he bit out.

  The security guard frowned. “I can’t let you up if they aren’t expecting you,” he said dismissively, turning back to his paper.

 Hot anger curled in Shouto’s chest. He was tempted to snap at the security guard but bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself. It wasn’t the security guard’s fault; he should have planned better. Shouto thought if he just showed up, everything would work out. 

 But... he was so close; he needed to think of something.

 Ding.

 The elevator doors slid open, and a tall, beautiful woman and man walked out. Shouto did a double-take. The woman almost looked like an exact replica of Yaoyorozu, except with blond hair instead of black. Could it be…?

 “Yaoyorozu-san.” The guard said, getting up and bowing formally.

 “Yaoyorozu…” Shouto repeated, and then his eyes narrowed as he looked behind the couple. “Where’s Momo?”

 The woman blinked, clearly taken aback by his brisk attitude. “Momo-chan?” 

 “You’re Yaoyorozu Momo’s parents, right?”

 The man — presumably Yaoyorozu’s father — frowned. “Yes…”

 “I’m Todoroki Shouto, her classmate,” Shouto said hurriedly, then as an afterthought, bowed slightly. If they were anything like the Yaoyorozu he knew, it would be difficult to get them to help without trying to be at least a little polite.

 “Oh,” her mother stared at him, “I’ve heard of you. Endeavor-san’s son?”

 The security guard made a slight strangled noise behind him, but Shouto ignored him. “Yes,” he forced himself to say as calmly as he could.

 Something in the woman’s expression flickered. She folded her hands in front of herself. “I’m sorry, Todoroki-kun. Thank you for your effort, but our daughter is not here.”

 “What?”

 “You just missed her,” the man said. “She went out. Was there something you needed from her?”

 Shouto blinked then dropped his head and smiled softly to himself. He should have known Yaoyorozu would get away on her own. She was always stronger than she seemed.

 “No. There’s nothing.”

 “If you hurry, you should be able to get back in time and meet her.” Shouto looked back up at Yaoyorozu’s father. There was a softness in his expression that Shouto wasn’t used to. And Shouto suddenly felt guilty for jumping to conclusions. He had been so worried for Yaoyorozu and assumed her father was like his, but it seemed her parents weren’t anything like Todoroki Enji.

 Thank goodness.

 “I wish we could give you a car, but we only have two in Tokyo.”

 Shouto shook his head.

 “It’s okay, thank you.” He bowed, before hurrying back into the street, his hand already pulling out his cellphone to text Jirou and Kaminari that he was on his way back.

 He had to hurry.

 Yaoyorozu was trying her best to reach everyone.

 He couldn’t keep her waiting.

 XXXXX

 The car was stalled in bumper to bumper traffic.

 Momo’s eyes darted towards the clock on the driver’s dashboard. Eight-fifty. Ten minutes until the fireworks.

 Her fingers twisted together anxiously in her lap, and Momo drew in an unsteady breath, willing her heartbeat to stay calm. She was almost there. There was no need to panic.

 Outside, pedestrians dressed in yukatas and cute summer outfits packed along the sidewalks as if it were rush hour on the Tokyo subway. All that was missing was the train master pushing people into place.

 Momo swallowed and turned her attention away. It was only making her nervous.

 She ran her hands over her thighs, smoothing out invisible creases in her yukata. In the back of her mind, Momo wondered if this was how Cinderella felt on the way to the ball. Had she been excited, having escaped her evil stepmother’s house, or nervous and scared that it would all fall apart before the twelfth chime?

 Momo forced herself to lean back against the plush leather seat. If only she hadn’t forgotten her phone on her nightstand, she wouldn’t be so anxious. At least then she would have been able to text Jirou that she was on her way. She sighed. It had been so incredibly unlike her to forget anything — most of all her phone. But, then again, the whole night had been unusual and so unlike her.

 Momo’s hands tightened in her lap. She still couldn’t believe she had stood up to her parents. And more than that, it still felt surreal that they had let her go. They always were so proper and expected so much from her. Sometimes she forgot that they loved her as well.

 The thought warmed her, chasing away some of the anxiety clawing through her chest.

 Momo bit her lip. She couldn’t let herself get down. She had conquered her first hurdle. She had done everything in her power to make it out tonight; she just needed her luck to hold out a little while longer.

 In the distance, a loud boom sounded. Momo looked up sharply, her breath catching in her chest, but the tall buildings surrounding either side of her family’s car blocked her view. 

 Her chest tightened. No, they were almost there! She couldn’t give up. She had come so far–

 “Young miss.” Momo glanced to the front and caught the driver’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “The traffic is bad. I don’t think you’ll make it in time if we wait...”

 Momo nodded stiffly. “Thank you for your help,” she said hurriedly, opening the car door.

 A loud whine went off as she stepped out onto the street, followed by another echoing boom that shook the air and reverberated through her chest like a shockwave. She didn't remember it being this loud last year, but it also meant that she was close.

 Momo curled her hands into fists and began squeezing through the crowd. Her heart pounded in time with the crackling explosions.

 Oh, how she wished for the hundredth time that she had her phone. Now all she could do was pray to Kami-sama that everyone was at the viewing spot she had chosen for them on the bridge. If she could just get there and meet up with everyone, then everything would be okay.

 Her geta sandals clicked on the pavement as Momo hurried through the crowd, apologizing as she pushed past families and young couples. The air was thick with the tang of gunpowder and the heavy heat of summer.

 On either side of the street, stalls had been constructed in perfectly even rows for the festival. Momo didn’t stop to look at what each booth contained as she ran towards the bridge.

 The back of her neck was hot. And Momo could feel her yukata begin to stick to her as beads of sweat ran down her neck. Her side ached slightly, but she ignored it as best she could.

 Almost there.

 The booming continued in thundering sounds that made her heart race. The sky was dark gray with smoke. Between the buildings and tents, she could see flashes of color as multiple explosions went off.

 If it were possible, the crowd seemed to grow denser. She apologized and pushed her way through. Her heart pounded frantically against her ribcage.

 Almost there. 

 Almost there.

 If she could just get to the bridge, everything would work out.

 She turned around a corner and froze, her chest clenching almost painfully as she stared down the street.

 The lights had flickered back on. There was no other sound besides people laughing and chatting happily as they walked towards her.

 No.

 Momo’s knees buckled.

 The fireworks were over. She had missed them.

 A sob caught in her throat, and Momo swallowed it back heavily as she tucked into a side alley. She walked down the narrow street and slid behind a metal exit stairway, where no one could see her. Then she stood there, feeling empty.

 All her efforts. All her planning and praying was for nothing. Kami-sama hadn’t been on her side.

 She curled her hand over her chest as she drew in deep breaths. The sound of people’s shoes and laughter filtered through the narrow alley as the crowd started back towards the stalls and the rest of the festival.

 Her chest tightened painfully. Momo drew in a sharp breath and dropped her head to hide her face as her eyes started to burn.

 It was from the smoke and running in the heat, not because she was going to cry, she told herself. Ladies didn’t cry, especially not in public.

 Momo had done her best. She had defied her own expectations and stood up for herself. She had gotten all the way out here, and surely—if she searched—she’d be able to find her friends. They were probably still on the other side of the bridge, just minutes away, still excitedly talking about the fireworks.

 Momo blinked as her vision blurred. She wasn’t upset. Disappointed, yes. But she was going to swallow her feelings and then go meet her friends. She couldn't let them see her acting like this. She’d only ruin everyone’s evening if she did that. Intruding on everyone's happy memories with her selfishness. 

 Momo's breath hitched. Besides, she couldn’t be upset over something this small, it wouldn’t make sense.

 She didn't need to see the fireworks.

 She didn't need to see them with Todoroki Shouto.

 She didn’t—

 “I wanted to see them.” She choked over a sob. “I wanted to see the fireworks.”

 “Then, I’ll show them to you,” a deep, familiar voice said.

 XXXXXX

 Anyways, I hope you all enjoyed. I don’t think I’m all that great at fluff, but I’m really proud of this piece. All comments and feedback are welcome!

 P.S. For anyone wondering, I’m still working on Ashes of Love and War. I’m trying to finish up this arc before posting again, but it is not abandoned. :)