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anonymousfiction211 · 3 years

Text

Handcuffed together

Summary: Loki and you hate each other, but are both part of the Avengers. They are fed up with you two fighitng all the time and hancuff you together, so you can learn to tolerate each other. Word count: 3.132 words Warnings: Smut, dubious consent (it is consentual, but not specificly said), angry Loki, degrading A/N: Based on a idea from @the-best-phineas. Hope you like it! If anyone has an idea, or suggestion just let me know :)

Click here for chapter 2 Click here for chapter 3

With a loud click the handcuff around your wrist closed. You immediately tried to unlock the cuff, but it wouldn’t give. “Like that would work” Loki commented. You gave him a glare but turned your attention back to Tony. “Seriously, this is not necessary. Give us another chance” you begged him. “Look, we are all sick of the two of you constant fighting, it is effecting the team and the missions we’re on. And all that magic-crap makes everything worse. So, until the two of you can tolerate each other you’re cuffed together. And you’re both not allowed on missions before you finish this one” You sighed heavily but knew that arguing more was futile.

“I must say, you’re taking this better than I thought you would” Tony said to Loki. “Escaping handcuffs isn’t that difficult, Stark” Loki replied. Tony secured the cuff on Loki’s wrist. He then walked hastily to the door. “Oh, one more thing. These handcuffs are designed so you can’t use your powers” Tony said and quickly exit the room. Loki immediately tried to escape his cuff with magic, but nothing was happening. You tried as well, but got the same result, nothing. You met his eyes, which were full of anger. “I thought escaping from handcuffs wasn’t that difficult” you said sarcastically. Loki didn’t break eye contact. The anger was radiating off him, you swore you could physically feel it. He didn’t say anything but turned around and walked away. When you didn’t move he yanked at his side of the cuffs and you were forced to take a few steps in his direction. “What the… LOKI..” you started angrily, but he didn’t react. He kept walking while ignoring you. Right now, you had no other choice than to follow him, trying to keep up.

He pushed his bedroom door open with so much force, you thought it would break. He walked towards his bookcase and was taking out different books, flipping through them. You had enough and yanked at the handcuffs, making the book in his hand fall on the ground. “STOP. WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING” you yelled at him. He gave you his angriest look, the one he said he reserved specially for you, because he never met anyone who was as stupid and annoying as you were. And that included his oaf of a brother. “I am finding a way to free myself from you” he spat. “So, just stand there and try not to get in the way” he turned his attention back to the bookcase. “You can’t just walk away and drag me along” you grumbled. “Apparently I can” he said with a sly small on his face. You yanked at the cuffs again, making Loki drop his book again. He turned to face you, grabbed your throat with the cuffed hand and pushed you hard against the wall behind you. Your scream was cut off by his other hand covering your mouth. He wasn’t chocking you, but the tightness off his grip wasn’t comfortable enough for you to relax. Your whole body felt like it was on fire, which was weird. It shouldn’t.

He pulled his hand away from your mouth after standing there for what felt like eternity. “Look, I’m much stronger than you are. So, I’m going to find a way to free myself. The only thing you have to do is staying out of my way” he growled. He let go of your throat, but still stood extremely close to you. “Yeah, this whole act doesn’t scare me” your voice hoarser than you would have liked. Loki chuckled “Look, when you had your powers you had some sort of defense, even tough it was weak. Without your powers.. you don’t stand a chance against me” You slapped him hard across his face. His face turned sideways, but his cheek didn’t show any red mark. He slowly turned his head to face you, giving you a wicked smile that sends chills trough your body. He didn’t say anything, just stared at you. But both of you knew, you had just proofed his point.

The rest of the morning you two sat on his bed. Loki was busy reading different books and he sometimes grumbled in annoyance. You were playing a game on your phone, trying to ignore him. Loki snaped his book shut and threw it across the room. You looked up from your phone “I assume the search is not going well then?” you couldn’t help but chuckle a bit at his frustration. “Just shut up, it’s not like you are any useful” he replied. He sighed and laid down on his bed. His put his cuffed hand on his chest, which meant that your hand also touched his chest. When he felt your hand, he puts his hand down beside him, pretending it didn’t happen. “We could pretend to like each other for this afternoon, and we surely will be free before dinner” you said. Loki didn’t reply. He sighed heavily “Fine” he muttered. He got up from the bed, which mean that you had to crawl to his side to get up as well. When it took to long he grabbed your arm and pulled you to your feet in front of him. Not anticipating this move, you stumbled and fell into his chest. His free hand immediately grabbed you by your hip to steady you. A weird feeling was spreading from your hip through your body, you couldn’t quite place it. When he dropped his hand you still felt his touch. “Shall we?” he said. You nodded and followed him towards the living room. But there was no one there. Loki walked towards the kitchen, with you close behind him. There was a note on the kitchen table.

Loki and (Y/N), The team had to leave for a mission. We will be back in two days. Don’t kill each other. - Natasha

Loki crumbled up the piece of paper and threw it through the kitchen. “Great, just great. Two day stuck with you” he said angrily. “Lucky me, two days in the presence of a god” you replied with as much sarcasm as you could. Loki gave you an angry glare, which you ignored. He stormed out of the kitchen, yet again dragging you along. After a few steps you yanked at the cuffs and halted in your track. “Look, we both want nothing more than the be free of each other. But we’re at least stuck with each other for two day, so how about some rules?” you started. Loki didn’t say anything but nodded.

“First, discussing where we are going, no more dragging me along and doing whatever you want” you started.

“No talking unless absolutely necessary” Loki replied.

“No more threats, or throat grabbing”

“No more punching”

“How about no touching of any form?” you said.

“Fine by me. Also, no more singing. You are really bad at it”

“No more insulting me!!” you half yelled

“Don’t make insulting you so easy then!”

There was a long silence. “We sleep in my room” Loki said. “IF you behave this day, I MIGHT consider letting you sleep in the bed” you rolled your eyes at that comment. “I accept that we sleep in your room, but only IF I sleep in the bed too. Otherwise, we sleep in my room” you said. He smirked “If you weren’t so insufferable I might even enjoy this little negotiation” You couldn’t help but smile at his comment “same for me” you replied.

The rest of the afternoon went by rather peacefully. Loki was reading books and you were watching a series on tv. There was one awkward moment when you had to use the toilet, but you had to admit that Loki did his best to give you all the privacy you needed. So, you did the same when he had to go. Your stomach started to rumble, you were getting hungry. “Shall we order food?” you asked Loki. After a very long discussion you both finally agreed on Chinese food. In hindsight it wasn’t the best idea to eat Chinese food when you only have one hand. During dinner, your hands sometimes touched each other, by accident. But every time you felt his hand against yours spark like electricity shot through your body. You suddenly forgot how to breathe and didn’t know where this was coming from. You were hoping Loki didn’t notice and try to ignore the feeling.

After dinner things basically stayed the same. You put on a movie and halfway through Loki decided to watch it too. But none of you said a word to each other. After the movie you were getting tired. “Can we go to bed?” you asked. Loki nodded and the two of you walked to his bedroom. That was when things got a little awkward. You both turned your back towards each other when the other undressed. Loki had pulled down his pants and his shirt, which was now hanging on the chain of the cuffs. You were currently undressing yourself, getting rid of your own pants and pulling your T-shirt over your head, hanging it next to Loki’s on the chain. You currently were in a bra and thong, mentally slapping yourself for not thinking this through this morning. Worst off all was that it was in dark green, which was a colour you wore often before Loki joined the team. When Loki turned around you saw his eyes roam your body, suddenly you felt extremely exposed. You noticed that Loki was more muscular than you thought, if he were any other man on the planet you would have thought his body was attractive. You cleared your throat, snapping Loki’s eyes to meet yours. If you didn’t know any better you thought you saw a slight blush on his cheeks.

He walked towards his doors and turned down the light. His room was completely dark, and you couldn’t see a thing anymore. You heard Loki walk and felt your hand pulled towards his direction. You were hesitant to move, not wanting to trip or bump into something. “Why are you not moving?” Loki asked annoyed. “I- I can’t see a thing” you replied. Loki walked closer to you, his free arm grabbed your shoulder, and he took your cuffed hand with his. You flinched from the sudden touch, not expecting it. “Relax, I’m not going to hurt you” he said. “I know, you just startled me” you replied. He guided you towards his bed and let you get in first. “Thanks” you whispered. “Just go to sleep” he replied. But sleep did not come easily. It was difficult to find a comfortable position, because of the handcuffs. But somehow you managed.

The light shining through the curtains woke you up. Loki was still fast asleep, he looked peaceful. He was laying on his side, facing you with his free hand underneath his head. His cuffed hand was on top of yours. You slowly moved your hand from underneath his. His eyes snapped open, and he looked at you. You were both silent. He cleared his throat “Breakfast?” he asked, you nodded. You both decided it was a good idea to make pancakes. However, cooking with handcuffs on was more difficult than anticipated. Especially since Loki wasn’t much of a cook. You got frustrated and told him to just get out of your way. You finally had the batter how you wanted and picked up the bowl to bring it near the stove. Loki, wanting to get out of your way, choose the wrong direction making the two of you bump into each other. You lost your grip on the bowl and it fell on the ground.

“Seriously?!” you asked angrily. “It’s not my fault you don’t watch where you’re going” Loki replied equally angry. “Why are you incapable of just admitting you’re not perfect and say sorry?”

“Why do you always look to me when someone has to take blame for your actions?” he spat back.

“You are the most insufferable person I’ve ever met!”

“God” Loki corrected.

“What?”

“I’m not a person, I’m a God!”

“Some God you are, you can’t free yourself, you can’t even make your own pancakes” you replied sarcastically.

“I suggest you chose your next words very carefully” he warned you.

You being you, decided to ignore the warning. “You might think yourself a God, but you are the only one who does” you said, knowing it would get some sort of reaction out of him. Loki used to cuffs to spin you around, your back against his chest. His cuffed arm was around your throat and his free hand around your stomach, holding you in place. “If you don’t shut up know, I make you” he whispered in your ear with a dangerous tone in his voice. Your whole body felt on fire, yet again. Before you knew that you did it, you pressed your ass against his groin. “Oh, you like this don’t you?” he purred in your ear. “Shut up and let me go” you said, trying to squirm out his grip. “No, you want this” he said.

“I don’t” you replied.

“That’s a lie”

“Like you would know. You may have the title God of Lies, but like we established... you’re no God” you laughed.

“I don’t need to be the God of Lies to know. You heart rate is up, your pupils yesterday dilated when you saw me shirtless, and your voice is higher. And the best thing is, your needy body betrays you” he laughed back.

You had enough. You kicked the back of your foot against his shin, but Loki didn’t even flinch. “Bad choice, kitten” he said. Without warning his teeth sunk into your neck. Instead of making your scream it made you moan louder than you would have liked. His hand on your stomach travelled downwards, going straight for your core. He cupped your heat with his hand and one of his fingers strokes between your folds. Revealing that you indeed were turned on, and already extremely wet. “Hmm.. such a needy slut you are” he hummed. You wanted to protest, you should protest, but alle words had escaped you. Your breathe was ragged and you knew you what was going to happen.

Loki spun you around, pushing your upper body on the kitchen counter. He held his cuffed hand in your hair, forcing your hand behind your back and your head down. You tried to squirm away, but Loki wouldn’t budge. “We both know you can’t escape and we both know you don’t want to. So now I’m going to fuck you, maybe you think twice next time you talk to me like that” he growled. His free hand hovered over the buttons of your pants and in one smooth motion he opened them. He pulled your pants down, caressing your butt. Goosebumps were starting to form, and you felt yourself grow wetter from his touch. Loki had freed his erection through his zipper, still wearing his pants. He stroked his shaft up and down your slid. Slightly dipping through your folds, coating himself in your wetness.

Without warning he thrusted inside of you, making you cry out in pleasure. He started thrusting in and almost out of you in a very quick pace. His cock filled you up completely, even reaching your g-spot when he was fully inside of you. You started to rock your hips, meeting his pace. “That’s it, good girl” he praised you. It made you blush and clench your walls around his cock. He left darkly at your reaction. You felt your orgasm starting to build up inside of you. Loki’s animalistic way of fucking you was becoming too much. Right before you reached your high you moaned out loud “Oh my God” Loki stilted deep inside of you. “What did you say, darling?” he mused. “I- .. just keep going” you replied, hoping he would let you come undone. He leaned his upper body over yours, his lips right by your ear. “Just repeat it, if you want to come of course” he purred. You didn’t respond and thought about giving up your climax. Loki slowly moved pulled out and back inside of you. He knew you were close and was using that against you at the moment. “What’s wrong, kitten? Usually you’re so talkative” he chuckled. He was keeping his slow pace, keeping you on the edge but not pushing you over it.

You groaned in frustration. “Fine, I said oh my God” you said annoyed. Loki picked his pace up slightly, but nowhere near how fast you needed him. “So, you do admit that I’m a God?” even tough you couldn’t see his face, you just knew he had his signature smirk on his face. “Yes” you said to gritted teeth. Loki just laughed “Now, was that so difficult?” before you could answer he was thrusting at a fast pace. To your surprise Loki himself was starting to moan slightly, muttering things under his breath about how tight you were and how good you feel around his cock. It didn’t take long before you reached your climax. When you reached your high you couldn’t help but cry out “Oh my God Loki” adding fuel to his thrusts. He came right after you.

He collapsed on top of you, leaving feather light kisses on your neck. He pulled out of you and handed you a kitchen towel to clean yourself up. You pulled up your underwear and pants, not being able to look Loki in his eyes. You grabbed another bowl and started on a new pancake batter. Loki stood right behind you, hands on either side of you. He was nuzzling his head in the crook of your neck. “If I knew this would shut you up, I would’ve done it much sooner” he mused. “That was a one-time thing, don’t get any ideas. I still hate you” you replied. “Oh no, new rule. Every time you anger me, I’m going to fuck you like the slut you are” You knew it shouldn’t, but you felt yourself get excited again. “It’s only for a day and a half, so I just won’t make you angry” you replied dryly. Loki laughed “Kitten, even if we’re free from these cuffs I am still going to fuck you. You laid with a God and now you’re mine” You scoffed “That’s not how it works” Loki pulled you closer against his chest and cupped your breast with his free hand. He chuckled when you gasped and closed your eyes. “It is. By the time, the team is back, you will worship me like you should”

Click here for chapter 2

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proserpina-magnus · 3 years

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Hiii it’s me, the regulus simp again- back with another Regulus x fem!reader requestt where the reader has always wanted to play the piano, and the slytherin common room just happens to have one and Regulus just happens to know how to play the piano and she hears him playing so she comes to listen and she has synesthesia so she describes to him what she sees (like colors etc) andd maybe some ultra fluff where he tries to teach her to play it💖💖✨✨ also hope your day is going well and you’re drinking water and getting enough vitamin D because you’re important <3

I LOVED WRITING THIS, IT WAS SO CUTE. LITERALLY THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR REQUESTING THIS ( it made me feel better after writing the angst fic ). Also, I hope you are eating and staying healthy and safe! xoxo.

One where he teaches you how to play the Piano

Word count: 2619

[ Warning: fem!reader, fluff, strangers to lovers, first kiss, some sexual tension (not really though), hand holding, petnames such as “love” and “pretty lady/girl” ]

You pressed your ear to the door, hearing the angelic music come from the piano in the Slytherin common room. You tried your best to stay away, but you somehow always made your way to listen outside the door.

The person who played always came to the piano after supper on Wednesday nights, occasionally they would come to play on the weekends as well. You never caught a glimpse of the person, you always ran off before they noticed you were there.

Here you were, ear pressing so close to the slightly opened room as you listened to the sweetest melody you have ever heard. Your brain fogged with clarity, it felt like paradise.

A smile tugged on your face, but it quickly fell when the door leaned forward and you came tumbling into the almost empty common room.

The walls were made of bricks, making you wonder what it would feel like to slide your fingers along the creases. Your knees hit the floor, hands extended as you hear a slight cracking noise. You cringe at this simple scenario you have fallen into, how could you have possibly been so naive and fall right through the door?

The piano came to a stop when you fell, the musician taking a look towards the intruder. You stare at the ground with wide eyes, feeling too embarrassed to look up at them.

"Are you alright?" His voice was deep and delicate, much how you imagined it would sound. You look up, realizing his voice wasn't the only thing delicate about him. His face was shaped like a god, high cheekbones with thinning plain lips. You took a moment to stare at his beauty, never knowing a person could look so lovely.

"Excuse me?" He repeated himself, standing from the oak bench. His hand came into view, you took his long fingers into yours, feeling him pull you up. His hand was cold to the touch, but it only reminded you of the snowy owls you see flying.

"I'm sorry, it's just you play the piano so well, I guess I got distracted and fell... through the door," you explained, embarrassed. You took your hand from his, looking around the space accompanying you both. Everyone was out for a Hogsmeade trip, but you had stayed because you heard the piano.

"Oh," he responded, you look back up towards him, noticing his taller height. You looked over his outfit, seeing his well-tailored fit. His shoes were sparkling, making you look at your own dusted ones.

"Do you play the piano?" The musician asked, trying to get you to stay and talk for a few more minutes. You looked back up, shaking your head sadly.

"I wish, I just never gotten the opportunity to learn," you tell him, looking towards the piano left unoccupied. He watched you, making you look up towards him.

"What is your name?" He asked, taking a step back to give you some room. You fiddled with your skirt.

" [ name ] [ last name ], and you?" You asked, your eyes continuing to look towards the empty piano. He followed your gaze, a small smile on his lips.

"I'm Regulus Black, would you like me to teach you how to play the piano?" Regulus asked, tilting his body to invite you towards the piano. You instantly took a step with him, both of you walking towards the bench. He sat first, patting the spot beside him.

"Will you?" You asked, an excited tone in your voice. He patted the seat again, giving you another small smile.

" Of course, I always have time for a pretty lady," Regulus replied, his words making your stomach flutter. You sank down onto the oak bench, your eyes never leaving his.

"I'm a complete amateur, I don't even know the chords," You reason with him, blinking your eyes as you look towards the piano keys.

"That's alright, we all start somewhere," Regulus says, his fingers placing themselves against the white keys, pressing them together to make an angelic sound. You're reminded of a viridian green from the nice tone.

"Here, place your fingers against these keys," Regulus explains, letting you raise your hands before taking your fingers and placing them against the keys. You eagerly press the key, a sage green colour filling your mind.

Regulus watched you with tender eyes, seeing as you got so fascinated with the small chord. You instantly pressed another one, trying to follow the same melodies he had showed you.

Your spine tingled when a horrible chord was pressed, making the melody remind you of the colour cinnamon brown. You scrunched your shoulders, pulling your fingers back.

"Hey, you've almost got it and I haven't even taught you yet, don't give up now," Regulus effused, his fingers gently grabbing yours as he placed them back over the keys.

He dragged your fingers through keys, playing the melody through you. You’re reminded of the viridian green again, seeing new colours flash through with each key being played.

"Your turn now," Regulus says, his fingers rest over yours for a while longer than normal, before tearing them away to place them on his knees. You give him a look, only being met with a comfortable expression.

You tap the keys slowly, remembering the colours and placements. Before you know it, you've completed a slowed version of the melody. Your heart jumps, excited to get it right.

"Yes, that's good! Your learning quicker than I thought, are you sure you've never played before?" He asked, leaning his head to the side. You watched his hair tilt with his head, gentle curls framing his face. You snap out of it, answering his question.

"I see colours, with each note. It's hard to explain, but when I hear things I get reminded of objects or colours, does that make sense?" You ask, feeling slightly exposed to admit your thought process. Regulus pressed his lips together, analyzing you. You feel stupid, but that feeling flows away with his next words.

"You have synesthesia?" Regulus concluded, but he asked it more like a question. You nodded your head, a small smile on your face.

"Yeah. You're familiar with the term?" You asked him, tilting your head back to the piano. Regulus kept looking at you, interpreting his final thoughts. Nothing terrible could ever possibly come from a person like her, Regulus concluded.

“I am. I heard a Professor mention it once, always stuck with me after,” Regulus explained, just as he finished talking, someone walked into the common room. You both turned your head to look, not realizing you had been infatuated with his eyes.

“Am I interrupting something?” The Slytherin teased, his eyes switching between the two of you in a suggested way. You turn your head slightly, a blush against your cheeks.

“Yes, you are,” Regulus stated plainly, flashing his eyes towards you. His hand came to your back, holding it gently. You couldn’t have flushed red any faster, your face felt like it was on fire.

“Oh,” The boy said, not expecting that response.

“It’s alright,” you chimed in, but the boy only waved his hand and walked towards the steps to the boy's dormitory. You felt foolish, you didn’t want to upset the boy.

“Don’t worry about him, he was teasing me, you’ve done nothing wrong, my love,” Regulus responded, turning his body back to face the piano, but he kept his gaze on you.

“You know him?” You perked up, looking up towards his eyes. He gave a smile, finding your embarrassed state adoring.

“Yes, he’s one of my dorm mates,” Regulus told you, leaning closer. His hand rubbed your lower back softly, soothing you.

“Oh, well that makes me feel better,” you retorted, eyes turning towards the piano. You placed your hands back onto the keys, giving him a side look. “May we continue?”

“Of course,” Regulus replied, his hand leaving your back. You felt cold without his hand but shook it off as you started to play the melody again. This time, you played it a bit quicker. You still missed some important keys, but Regulus just responded with a faint, “don’t worry, I know you’ll get it soon,”

“Can you explain what colours you see each note you play? He asked after you finished playing a slowed version of the melody. You nodded, moving your fingers to the first key.

“The thinner notes remind me of warm colours and the deeper notes are cold colours. For instance, this one reminds me of a pale yellow,” you say, pressing the higher sounding key. A ping sounded through the room before you moved your fingers to the second note.

“This one is... like a blue sky kind of colour,” You go on, explaining colour after colour. Before you know it, you reach the end of the melody.

“What does this note remind you of?” Regulus asked, pressing one of the deeper notes. You look at his dark green tie, wiggling your fingers to hold the thin material. You tug at his tie gently, signalling him to look towards it.

“It sounds like this colour,” You contort, smiling as you let go of his tie and use your palm to make it neat again. Regulus coughs from the back of his throat, shifting in his seat. You realize how insane you must be, touching the tie of a guy you just met.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have touched you,” You say sheepishly. You look up towards Regulus, but he’s turned his head, you see the faint glow of a red on his cheeks. He brings his hand to hold his face, hiding it swiftly to try and calm himself.

“It’s fine,” he mumbles into his hand, he shivers before steadying himself. Regulus turns his head back, keeping his eyes away from yours.

A growing awkward silence fills the room, looking away from each other. You grab the oak bench cushions, pressing your feeling into it through your hands. You rock back slightly, but you feel him move closer to you, his arm brushed against yours.

“Do you think you’ve perfected the melody yet?” Regulus asked his sweaty hands on his knees. He rubbed his thighs, trying to wipe the sweat away. He felt like a nervous wreck.

“I think so,” you say, moving your hands as you place them against the starting keys. You wait for a second, before pressing the keys. You go on with the melody, getting each key right. Your fingers move over the white ivory keys, the viridian green filling your mind again.

“You’re so pretty,” Regulus lets the words slip out, his eyes filled with this type of adoration as he watches you. You snap your head to look towards him, gulping slightly. The melody falls short, your fingers stopping.

“I’m sorry, I should have said that,” Regulus quickly covers up, his ears red as he can’t keep his darkened eyes from yours.

“Not that you aren’t pretty, because you most definitely are! I just shouldn’t have told you, we’ve just met and I don’t want to be a creep,” Regulus goes onto explain, feeling embarrassed himself as he fumbled over his words.

“That’s okay! I don’t mind, I think you’re pretty as well,” You replied, looking over his sculpted features again. Regulus gave you a slanted look, he has never been called pretty before.

“I mean... handsome, you’re just really mesmerizing is what I mean,” you stumble over your words, feeling your ears start to heat up, the tips red.

“Thank you,” He responded, his body leaning closer to yours. He shakes out of it before he can lean any closer, your breath slipping from the shared moment. He turned back to the piano, placing his ring clasped fingers against the keys.

“Shall I teach you another melody?” Regulus asked, looking over. You nodded, sitting back into the backless bench. You watched as he looked towards the keys, eyes closed slightly. His eyelashes fell perfectly over his cheeks as he played the new melody.

Your mind flooded with the colour deep sea blue, the chords sounded so mellow. Once the melody came to an end, he turned to look towards you.

“It’s your turn now,” Regulus states, your fingers coming to replace his. You feel uncertain, you had been distracted by Regulus's beauty, you hadn’t watched his hand placement.

You press the first key, a deep sound flowing through you. The pleasant sounds didn't last long because you had played the wrong key, making the melody uneven. You give a sheepish look towards Regulus.

“It’s alright, let me take you through the placements again,” Regulus comforts quickly, his hands coming to rest over yours. He directs your fingers back to the starting keys. Regulus moves his body, tilting it weirdly.

“Here, let’s stand up,” He says, helping you stand before pushing the bench back to give you both room. His body comes behind yours, his hands placing yours back over the piano keys.

“Is this okay?” Regulus asks his whispers sending tingles through your spine. You nod slightly, your body leaning back into his. “Yes,”

Regulus starts to help you press the keys, taking you through the beautiful melody again. His hand are much bigger than yours, covering them from view. His cheek brushes against your hair, almost nuzzling closer to you.

When the melody ends, he stays still. You both don’t move, his hands over yours, his breath fanning over your ear in a calming way. Your heart beats faster, turning around slightly. Your lips part, tilting your head back to look up at him.

“Can I kiss you?” Regulus whispered, his eyes switching between your eyes to your lips. You nod quickly, words getting stuck in your throat.

“Close your eyes,” he instructed, watching as you close your eyes shut. You felt your face boil, feeling a nervous nausea wash over you.

His knuckle brushed your warm cheek, before his fingers cupping your jaw softly. You leaned up on your toes, your hand on his chest. Regulus pulled himself down, his lips meeting yours.

You leaned further on your toes, pressing yourself closer. It felt so new, being in this secret moment together made you pull him closer, wanting it to last forever.

He felt rich, the placement of his cold hands, the way his lips tasted like mint. you grabbed his coat, fingers squeezing around the fabric. You leaned back down, breaking the kiss. You let your eyes fall looking at his shiny shoes.

“Hey, look at me pretty girl,” Regulus said with a gentle voice, his fingers lifting your jaw. Your eyes met his again, your stomach filling with butterflies. He had a grin on his face, his once pale cheeks filled with colour.

“Would you like to go on a date with me? There is a wonderful restaurant just outside of Hogsmeade, I would like to converse with you more,” Regulus invited you. You nodded your head, feeling foolish once again for not using your words.

“I would love to,” you choked out, you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling and neither could Regulus.

Regulus frowned when he took a look at his watch, he leaned down to plant a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“I have to go, I’m meeting up with a professor,” Regulus said sadly, holding you close before letting you slip away from his hands. “I’ll see you on our date?”

“of course,” you agreed, watching as he gave a small gorgeous smile before slipping out of the Slytherin common room.

You sat on the nearby couch, resting your head in your hands as you let out a satisfied squeal. This day, could not have gone any better.

#regulus black #regulus black x reader #regulus black x you #regulus black blurb #regulus black fluff #marauders #marauders era #regulus black oneshot #regulus black headcanons #harry potter fanfiction #marauders era one shot

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helloalycia · 3 years

Text

The Wrong Lifetime – Three // Wanda Maximoff

chapter two | story masterlist | main masterlist | wattpad | chapter four

author’s note: i have nothing to say except enjoy!

Chewing on my bottom lip, I looked over the shelves at the different kinds of stationary the shop had to offer. I needed a new notebook and some ink since I'd ran low at home, so I decided to come into town to have a look.

A brown leather-bound notebook caught my eye and I picked it up, flicking through the pages. Sadly, they were too thin for my liking, so I replaced it and kept looking.

Moments like this were one of the few luxuries I had to myself, where my mother wasn't nattering in my ear about finding a husband and learning to do something useful other than writing, or where my brother wasn't overshadowing me in everything he did, making me feel even worse about myself. No, moments like this, I could just be.

"Y/N? Is that you?"

And there goes my moment.

Plastering a smile on my lips, I spun around and was surprised to see Wanda approaching me with an equally surprised expression on her face. She really was everywhere, wasn't she?

"Wanda, hello," I greeted as she stopped by my side. "It's good to see you."

She looked good, considering I hadn't seen her for a few days. Maybe once when she'd popped in to say hello to everybody before her date with my brother, but that was hardly a meeting. Now, she looked cheery, eyes sparkling with their usual excitement.

"You, too," she said softly, a smile creeping on her lips. Her eyes fell to my hands, where I was holding some ink. "Don't you have servants to do that for you?"

"Don't you have servants to do that for you?" I countered lightheartedly, eyes flickering to the vast amount of paintbrushes and paint in her arms.

She narrowed her eyes in a playful manner. "Touché."

Rolling my eyes in good nature, I asked, "So, what made you decide to go shopping?"

"I needed some new supplies," she quipped with an adorable smile, lifting her arms which were filled with said supplies.

"And you didn't think a basket would help?" I joked, before turning to grab a stray basket beside the shelves and helping her to put everything in it.

She chuckled, accepting my help, and answered, "Truthfully, I only came for the paint, but then I saw some new brushes I wanted to try, and then there were some new colours in stock and, well, before I knew it–"

"This happened," I finished for her with amusement, handing her the filled basket.

She took the basket from my hands and nodded. "Exactly. I would have sent my servant to get the paint, but last time I did, she came back with the wrong one."

"Oh, the scandal," I teased.

Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment and it was refreshing to see the shoe on the other foot. I guess I could see the fun in it now – no wonder she teased me often. Plus, she looked cute when she was caught off guard.

"What about you?" she countered, attempting to take the attention off her.

Content smile on my lips, I watched her. "What about me?"

She gave me an isn't it obvious? look. "I told you why I was here. What about you?"

I shrugged, looking back to the shelves. "I just needed some things... and I may or may not get excited when buying stationary."

Her melodious laughter filled the air. "Of course."

"I just don't know which to get," I told her, motioning to the notebooks. "There's so many options!"

She hummed with amusement, stepping by my side closely and reaching out to get a better look. I was acutely aware of her shoulder pressed to mine and tried to stop thinking about it, but obviously, once I told myself to stop thinking about it, it was all I could think about.

"How about this one?" she suggested, picking up a notebook wrapped in a burgundy-coloured sleeve. She was probably biased since it was her favourite colour.

I took it from her grasp as she held it towards me, feeling tingles at the tips of my fingers when they grazed her hand. God, I needed to get a grip.

Before I could look at the notebook properly, I noticed a smudge on her hand, subconsciously grabbing it before she pulled away. Flipping it over so I could see her palm, I saw several smudges of colour and stared with confusion.

"Paint," she explained, mildly embarrassed as she pulled away. "The stuff goes everywhere."

I hid a smile, finding it cute, before looking to the notebook again.

"I like it, but now to see the pages," I said, flipping through them to see if they were thick enough. I hated getting a notebook with flimsy pages that ink seeped through.

"Are they to your liking, your majesty?" she teased, and I looked up to see her tilting her head and watching me through her eyelashes.

"Yes, they are actually," I retorted with a childish glare, before closing it. "Thanks."

She half-suppressed a laugh. "Good. Let's hope it gives you some... vdokhnoveniye."

She paused, scrunching her nose in thought, probably searching for the right word in English. I was too distracted by how enchanting she looked when she did that to care about her struggle to find the word.

"Vdokhnoveniye is like inspiration," she explained, eyes looking back to me after staring up in thought, "but it's something better. It's from the word vdykhat', meaning to breathe."

"So, you want me to get a good breath from this?" I asked, quirking a brow with bemusement.

"No! No." She laughed, running a hand through her curls. "It's like... when you get inspired by something so quickly, as quickly as it takes to take in a breath. Never mind, it's stupid."

"It's not," I reassured her with an appreciative look. "I get it. Thanks. I like that. Russian is definitely a fascinating language."

She seemed glad that I made sense of her ramblings and I smiled, realising there was much more to Wanda than her ability to make me a stumbling mess.

"Have you got everything?" I asked her, glancing to her basket, before quickly adding, "What am I saying? Of course you've got everything. Practically half the store is in there."

She shoved me gently. "Not nice. But yes, I have everything."

I refrained from chuckling at her dismay before leading the way to the till so we could pay. As we took turns, the cashier made conversation with both of us. I knew of him because I'd been here enough times to make a friend, but I was surprised to see Wanda was the same. I was certain I'd never seen her here before. And I'd been here a lot.

When we finished paying, we began to head outside and I decided to speak my thoughts.

"You know, it's strange to think that we've both been coming here for a while and yet we've never crossed paths," I noted. "I mean, unless we have and just didn't know who each other were then."

She shook her head casually. "Oh, no, we haven't crossed paths. I'd definitely remember a pretty face like yours."

I paused, bewildered at her words as they took time to sink in. She seemed to notice as she laughed, holding the door to the shop open for me. I walked outside and she followed after me, eyes glancing at me satisfactorily.

"So, er, what are you doing now?" I changed the subject, recovering from my momentary shock.

She settled with a smile as she answered, "I'm in the middle of adding some finishing touches to a painting I'm working on. I'll probably head back to finish it."

"Ah, the paintings that you talk about but I've never seen," I joked, relaxing under her stare. "I'm starting to believe you're lying to me, love."

She rolled her eyes, though her smile widened, revealing a dimple by the corner of her mouth. "I'm not... You can come with me if you'd like. I don't mind showing you." When her eyes met mine, she quickly added, "If you're not busy, that is."

Humour disappearing, I nodded with surprise. "Sure. I'd love to."

And that wasn't a lie. I was curious to see the Sokovian's work since she seemed to enjoy talking about art so much. Plus, I could appreciate some good art when I needed to and I wondered if hers would fit the bill.

Or at least that's what I told myself when she flashed her dazzling smile my way, making my heart explode with adoration.

—

Just like me, Wanda didn't have a dedicated place to work from because her parents didn't deem her passion an appropriate hobby for a young woman in today's day and age. So, just like I did, she worked in her room and made the most of the space she had.

As soon as we took a step inside, I was amazed by how much stuff there was. Of course there was the expected – a bed, an ottoman, a wardrobe and a desk – but it was as if that was all secondary furniture to the main focus.

Closest to the giant window on the opposite end of the room were several canvases being supported by easels, some painted and some blank. Papers with sketches of literally anything you can think of were taped to the walls, some scattered along the floor and some scrunched up entirely, missing the bin.

Her desk was filled with jars of paintbrushes, oils, pencils, chalk and any other art supply I'd probably never heard nor seen of before. The place was messy, but not dirty. Her bed was made, the sheets as crisp as could be, her books were lined up neatly, her paintbrushes all had a perfect spot. It was clean, but it was a giant mess, and it was the most beautiful mess I'd ever seen. I refused to believe art was merely a hobby for her when it seemed like her room was dedicated to it.

"This is your room?" I asked with disbelief, eyebrows raised.

Clearly mistaking my amazement for critique, she dumped her newly purchased art supplies on her bed before rushing to pick up some loose papers and canvases from the floor.

"Yes," she squeaked, attempting to kick some papers under her bed as she straightened up sheepishly. "Sorry for the mess. Believe it or not, it does follow a system."

I laughed wholeheartedly, heading further into the space to where her makeshift studio was. "Wanda, you don't need to apologise. This place is amazing."

She snickered, glancing around at everything. "You think? I'd love something more – a real studio – but of course, women aren't supposed to have hobbies apart from pleasing their husband and hosting dinners every other week."

The last part she said with a hint of bitterness, clearly repeating what she'd been told before, no doubt by her parents. I was surprised by her vulgarity, but I wasn't in disagreement. She was absolutely right and it was such a shame because women were so much more than their husband. Too bad society would never see that.

"My father only allows me this... sanctuary," she finished with a sigh, before her hand rested on her desk. "It's not much, but at least it's mine."

"Well, I love it," I told her honestly, making her smile as she looked my way. "Can I look around?"

She waved her hand. "Of course. Nothing's off limits, but do be generous. My ego is easily bruised."

I chuckled at her joke and she flashed me another smile before grabbing her neglected art supplies. As I helped myself to looking around at her work, I heard her rustling around behind me and glanced her way, seeing her making herself comfortable on a stool before a particular canvas. I presumed it was the piece she was working on that she mentioned earlier and got back to my browsing.

She was extremely talented, not that I had any doubts to be honest. There were her bigger pieces, the extremely detailed ones, that she'd painted of grassy landscapes. Some were green full trees with falling leaves, some were cherry blossom trees with pink blossoms floating in the air, some were buildings overgrown with mother nature. I recognised none of them, but they transported me elsewhere like a nostalgic reminder of being a kid and playing in the garden with my mum. Even now, I helped her do the gardenening, but I'd never really appreciated my surroundings until I saw Wanda's work.

And those were just the huge pieces. She'd done sketches that were taped to the wall, to her desk, floating out of sketchbooks. Some were plans for bigger pieces, others were daily observations, all of her surroundings. She didn't draw people, I noticed, it was mainly scenery. But it was all stunning and it brought a smile to my lips as I imagined her producing all of this in her own little sanctuary, as she called it.

"You've been quiet for too long," she called out jokingly, after a while of me perusing her sketchbooks.

I looked up from my seat at her desk, seeing her focused on her painting, but an amused smile ghosted her lips. The sunlight from the window was hitting her perfectly at the moment, and even from where I was sat, I could see the flecks of gold shimmering in her eyes, matching the auburn streaks in her hair. The breath got knocked out of me momentarily, and I almost forgot that she'd said something.

Clearing my throat, I returned her smile. "I'm admiring your work, Wanda. You're bloody talented."

She lowered her paintbrush and gave me an incredulous look. "Tell me what you really think, Y/N."

I grinned, laughing slightly. "I am! I genuinely think this is amazing."

She pressed her lips together, still reluctant to believe me, but she nodded gratefully and returned her attention to her painting. I didn't fail to notice the pink spreading across her cheeks at the compliment, and my heart fluttered at the sight.

"Would you ever sell any of these?" I asked her, standing up and approaching her side to see what she was working on.

I noticed the addition of stray paint that had made its way to her hands and forearms and it made me smile. I don't even think she realised it was there.

She scrunched her nose up at the idea. "I've given some away to family friends because my parents made me. But no, I don't think I'd sell them." Something seemed to make her snort with amusement, then she said, "Nobody would buy them anyway."

I frowned as she sighed, her shoulders sagging at the thought. It was horrible to admit, but she was right. Female authors – questionable, but sure, they existed. Female painters? Let's just say that it was easier to be successful if you worked under a pseudonym and pretended to be a man. Which she clearly wouldn't do, or at least her parents wouldn't allow her to do. Sadly, Wanda Maximoff was in the wrong lifetime.

Hoping to cheer her up, I stood by her side and admired the strokes she made with her paintbrush. "If it's any consolation, if we were in another lifetime where I actually made money, I'd buy them."

She glanced at me, partially disbelieving my words, partially intrigued. "Seriously?"

I nodded with certainty, eyes flickering between hers and her painting. "Seriously. All of them. I'd buy every single one."

She looked away, swallowing hard, then a soft, barely noticeable smile appeared on her lips, and I was glad I'd said the right thing.

Focusing my attention on the painting again, I saw it was a stunning view of a stream, and the way she'd painted it made it seem like it was flowing off the canvas. Her last minute touches, adding white flecks of oil paint on the water, managed to bring the piece to life without any effort. I was amazed at how someone could make nothing turn into something so easily.

"Where is this?" I asked curiously, not recognising the scene, and also wondering where she'd gone for the inspiration since we lived in a busy town that didn't have water sources nearby.

She pointed to her head with the end of her paintbrush. "Up here."

"You made this up?" I asked, surprised for the millionth time since arriving.

"Uh-huh." She tilted her head to study the piece, whilst saying, "I usually paint what's in the garden. Sometimes what I see in town is good, too. But I really wanted to paint water, and apart from the constant rain we get, there is none. So, I made it up."

I was impressed at her ability to make up something like this, but also slightly confused. "Why don't you just visit Blackpool? There's a beach – water, sand, pier, everything. And it's not too far from here. You could make it a day trip."

She shrugged, distracting herself with dipping her brush on her palette. "I don't want to go by myself."

I probably should have recommended she visit with my brother. You know, the man she was engaged to? But my eagerness got the better of me, and I ended up saying, "Maybe we could go together. If you want."

She looked up, a slow smile forming on her lips. "I'd like that."

I mirrored her expression, nodding slightly. "Great. I'm sure we can arrange something. Promise."

She held my gaze for a second longer, saying, "I'll hold you to that, milaya," before looking back to her painting.

"What does that mean?" I asked suddenly, my mind clearly not controlling my words today. "You keep calling me it."

She chuckled, leaning forward to get a closer look at her work with her paintbrush. "Darling."

"Pardon?"

She shook her head, glancing at me with amusement. "No, Y/N. It means darling."

I swallowed awkwardly, certain my cheeks were as red as they felt warm. I wasn't sure what was more embarrassing – that I'd responded to her calling me darling when she hadn't, or that she'd been calling it me this whole time without me knowing. "Oh."

"Pull up a stool," she changed the subject, though my mind was still racing at her revelation. Had she called Y/B/N that? I couldn't recall. "I'll show you how to paint a little if you want."

Dazed, I did as she said whilst chewing on my lip with thought. She watched me, grinning from ear to ear, but said nothing. Was it normal for my heart to flip-flop in my chest like it was? I couldn't tell anymore. And when she grabbed my hand without saying anything, my hand felt like it was on fire with her touch.

The tip of her paintbrush swiped against my inner palm, her soft fingertips holding it up. Every area that her finger touched was burning, sending tingles up my arm and leaving me paralysed. Good thing I was sat down.

"There," she said like it was obvious. "Now you're an artist."

Blue eyes met mine excitedly and I gave her a small smile in return, hoping that these strange thoughts and reactions would disappear soon enough. Because this was definitely not appropriate.

—

My dreams were never anything worthwhile.

For someone who had a creative mind and could string sentences together to create a story I was proud of, my subconscious was the opposite. It was dry and boring and I rarely remembered my dreams unless they were scary enough to wake me up. But this time, this was a dream I was certain I'd never forget...

As with all dreams, I was unable to control what was happening. I was myself, observing from a first person point of view like it was real, but I had no control over my words or actions. Everything was predetermined, like a script I was forced to follow.

So, in this particular dream, I was sat in the back of a carriage, wearing a dress that was fancier than my usual taste. One hand was clutching my purse and the other was in someone else's hand, the person playing with my fingers soothingly.

"We're stopping now. Are you ready?"

It was Wanda. I had no idea why she was in my dream, or why she was leaning into my side comfortably, or why she was playing with my fingers like she did it all the time. I just knew that it shouldn't have been happening.

"Yeah, c'mon," I said with a smile, following my dream's script.

I intertwined our fingers and raised them to my lips, pressing a kiss to her palm. She smiled with adoration and allowed me to lead her out the carriage quickly. We were at the theatre and the first thing I thought was that my mind was creating a date similar to the one she shared with my brother. Oh, God, this wasn't good.

"Promise you've got the tickets?" she asked as we walked inside, hand in hand.

In my dream, nobody around us seemed to care that we were together, that we were two women showing affection and simply existing in a way more than friends. As wrong as I knew it was to dream of my soon-to-be sister-in-law like this, my mind was at peace, knowing I could be myself in my dream state. I didn't have to hide my identity and it was liberating.

"No, I decided to leave them at home," I answered her sarcastically, smiling.

She squeezed my hand and tugged me close, stopping me from walking any further. Her face scrunched together with a feigned annoyance.

"You don't need to be mean," she mumbled, eyes peering into mine, and my heart raced at the contact of her body pressed to mine.

Grinning, I pressed a kiss to her nose. "I've got them right here, love. Now let's go before we're late."

The dream didn't have a clear transformation. I just knew that one second I was staring at Wanda and the next I was sat beside her in the theatre, waiting for the lights to go down.

"Here," I said, passing her the programme for the show that was in my hand.

When I looked down at it, I was surprised to see a wedding ring on my left hand. Huh.

The lights dimmed when Wanda looked my way, green eyes bright in the dark. She shrugged, grabbing the programme and tossing it over her shoulder to the (thankfully) empty seat next to her.

"Looks like I missed my chance," she said, referring to the lack of light.

I opened my mouth to counter her words, but she didn't give me chance to as she pressed her lips to mine, hand raising to hold the back of my neck and pull me closer. Real me was freaking out, wondering why the hell I was allowing myself to have such thoughts about the girl who was going to marry my brother. And dream me was melting into her touch, shivering at her warmth and the way she began to suck my bottom lip.

"Wanda," I breathed out, pulling away breathlessly, but she continued to hold me close with a stifled grin.

"Isn't that why we got these tickets?" she said jokingly, eyes meeting mine.

My heart raced as she did, the simplest of glances making me weak in the knees. I was beginning to learn that her eyes were irresistibly beautiful.

"Right," I found my words, smiling in agreement as my eyes flickered to her lips.

They were painted red tonight, slightly smudged from the abrupt kiss she gave me, and I could only imagine the state of my own lips.

"We can watch the play now," she whispered, and I just about managed to tear my gaze from her lips to see the entertained look in her eyes.

I hummed in response, not trusting myself to say something comprehensible. Her lips curved into a smile and she linked our arms before settling into her seat, head leaning on my shoulder. I leaned mine on top, kissing the top of her head gently before also getting comfortable.

When I woke up, I didn't remember the rest of the dream, or know if there was a rest of the dream. I opened my eyes and found myself laying in my bed alone, tired and in the dark. It was still nighttime and my mind was foggy with fatigue. It took a moment for me to remember what I'd just dreamed. And then it hit me.

I liked my brother's fiancé.

#wanda maximoff au #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff imagine #scarlet witch imagine #scarlet witch #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen imagine #elizabeth olsen #marvel #marvel imagine #mcu

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joheunsaram · 3 years

Text

To Make A Power Couple - 02 (knj)

Chapter 2 - Pizza and Life Chats

THIS IS A REPOST SINCE I LOST ACCESS TO MY OLD ACCOUNT. PLEASE FOLLOW THIS BLOG FOR UPDATES ON THIS SERIES.

previous | masterlist | next

Summary- Namjoon and Y/N go on their first date, and Namjoon is whipped.

word count- 5k

pairing- idol!namjoon x ceo!reader

rating- pg13 for now

genre- series, fluff, eventual smut, strangers2lovers

warnings- mentions of hangovers and panic attacks, tooth-rottingly fluffy

a.n- okay here’s the second part! I wrote this up fairly quickly (don’t expect this to be the norm!). This part I wanted to kind of address the stress of overworking as a young adult (GUILTY 🙋🏻‍♀️) so sorry if it gets a little serious at parts. I also wanted to switch it up so it’s from Namjoon’s perspective. I hope you enjoy it. SOFT JOON BEING A BIG OLD SOFTY.

Feedback much appreciated! 💕

taglist - @beach-bitch-bitch-beach, @sassyuniversitytacopeanut

Namjoon woke up startled as his phone alarm rang. He was groggy and his splitting headache made him nauseous. “I’m never going to drink again”, he mumbled. He groaned as he got off the couch he had crashed on the night before, trying not to trip over Taehyung who seemed to be dozing happily on the floor as he made his way to his room. He hadn’t stayed at the dorms in a while, preferring the quiet solitary of his own apartment nowadays, and with his hangover in full swing he felt like he was walking through a stranger’s house.

Last month was hell. He had procrastinated on his songs and none of the vocal guides were even halfway done before the due date. Every time he tried to finish a song a new one would pop up in his head and he would start on that, leading to a hard drive full of files labelled “finish soon” and “draft”, and a notebook full of scratched out scribbles. It was like his brain had decided to abandon him, deciding it had had enough of his perpetual melancholy. He had felt drained and burnt out, a husk with no creative juices left. Luckily, Yoongi and a few of the producers had taken pity on his stressed out state and lent a hand so he had been able to finish the bare minimum three days ago - before the label pressured him further. He was never more grateful for a small break.

In all honesty, he needed a way to jumpstart his brain, and get out of the routine of home, practice, meetings, studio, home. Sometimes, he almost wished he didn’t have the success he had so he could go out and let loose a little - a club, a party, anything. But the last time he went somewhere like that he got swarmed and the police had to be involved. He couldn’t risk that, not after the trouble Big Hit went to threaten media outlets a year and a half ago, when he was caught with what they called a hickey, but was actually a stress rash.

As he brushed his teeth today, however, he smiled at the mirror. Last month may have been terrible, but last night was one of the best he’d had in the past year.

When he had heard Bang PD’s team talk about how they were attending the charity gala as he met them for notes on his songs, he was intrigued. He had read about this non-profit in the paper before. They seemed to be helping bridge the gap between people through communication and that spoke to him. So much so that he had scrolled through their website multiple times, reading testimonials and almost memorizing the mission statement. They wanted to help kids learn English for free so they could communicate globally. He really liked the idea. It was hard for him to learn the language as a kid and he knew that the only reason he became as fluent as he is from the tutors his parents paid for and his obsession with American television and music. Although he didn’t need the tutoring anymore, he did enjoy talking to the in-house tutor at the company, John, from time to time and improving his skills. The fact that this company wanted to add a John to every school in Korea starting from the rural areas, made Namjoon want to meet the man behind the movement. Little did he know, he’d be meeting the girl who’d shift his idea of the ideal.

He had never been more glad to have convinced his company to let him and the boys attend an event. He had initially suggested it as a way to break the mundane before their comeback practices started and network while supporting a cause he liked. Two days ago, he wouldn’t have guessed it would have been an actual fun night leading to him nursing a headache.

He spent the next hour reliving last night as he showered and caught up on the news. He also read the messages he sent last night over a hundred times and had butterflies each time. Wasn’t he too old for butterflies? He wanted to message you again but every time he tried, he ended up overthinking it. Everything sounded forced or cheesy, and it was worse than any writer’s block. He threw his phone on the bed in frustration watching it bounce and land on the floor, before he grabbed it and pocketed it. Hopping around to get rid of his nerves, he decided to take a break from rereading the thread he already had memorized and check in with everyone. If his hangover was this bad he couldn’t imagine theirs.

Making his way back to the living room he found Taehyung now sitting on the floor, sleep still very evident on his features as he yawned and groaned. On the couch next to him sat Yoongi, holding an iced americano and staring into space. The rest were missing but he could hear a blender annoyingly whizzing in the kitchen.

“How’re you guys feeling this morning?” He asked as he sat across from Yoongi.

“This is why I don’t drink. Why did no one stop me?” Taehyung whined as he rose from the floor to leave, massaging his head.

“We tried. You were very excited to try all the disgustingly sweet drinks the hot bartender was making for you.” Yoongi replied with a sigh. “How was your date, Namjoon? You glad I forced you to go to the bar to talk to her?” he snickered, sipping his coffee before exhaling loudly in contentment.

“Honestly, I owe you big time. She was… amazing. I don’t think I’ve talked to someone that comfortably in a while” Namjoon sighed wistfully.

“I’ll add cupid to my resume,” he deadpanned. “Is she tolerating you for another date?”

“Yeah. We’re getting dinner on Tuesday, but I want to message her now. Argh!” He ran his hands over his face in frustration. “What do I even say? ‘Hi I’m the guy who was too scared to kiss you all night so you had to do it for him, what’s your favourite colour?’” Namjoon was annoyed at himself. It’s bad enough that he was having writer’s block in his music, did he have to have it for something as simple as texting too? This was ridiculous!

“Or you could just ask her how’s her hangover today. Jeez! Do I have to draft each of your messages? Stop being a dumbass and text the person you like.” Yoongi scoffed, clearly over Namjoon’s sudden and uncharacteristic insecurities.

Namjoon gave a resigned sigh as he reached for his phone and wrote out exactly what Yoongi suggested. Hey, he was his hyung for a reason - he had a full 6 months of life experience on him.

Namjoon: Hey! Hope your hangover is not too bad today.

As soon as the message was sent, he started getting nervous. Tapping his foot incessantly while he stared at his phone, willing it to buzz, annoying Yoongi enough to leave him alone on the couch in the process.

Y/N: Hi to you too! I actually don’t get hangovers so I’m doing great lol. What about you?

Namjoon: What do you mean you don’t get hangovers?

Y/N: I don’t know. Can’t get dehydrated if you’re always dehydrated!

Namjoon: That… makes no sense. Do I need to start reminding you to drink water?

Y/N: Only if you’re better than this app on my phone…

Namjoon: I can guarantee you I’m better than any app on this planet.

Y/N: Wow. Big claims! We’ll have to put it to the test I suppose.

Y/N: You never told me how you’re feeling. Oh and how’s Taehyung? Is he okay?

Namjoon: He’s doing fine. Made a pact to never drink again and if i’m being honest, I’m going to join him. I am shocked that your head is not exploding as well.

The messages continued easily after that, filled with updates of each other’s activities, playful flirting and even photos of dinner. By the time Monday rolled around, you had been messaging each other constantly, with no end to the conversation in sight and the only long pauses being when you were both asleep or working. It seemed like you would never run out things to talk about. Namjoon hadn’t messaged someone this frequently since he got out of his last relationship. It felt nice to relay his mundane day to day events to someone and he found himself excited to hear about your mundane, like how you decided to mix two different types of bad coffee blends to make a shockingly worse one. He was surprised again at how fast he felt comfortable around you. It was even starting to scare him a little - he only knew you for three days and it felt like he had known you forever! What was this weird spell you had on him?

The conversation Monday, however, was fairly sparse, and Namjoon was eager to set up plans for the next day, so that night he decided to call you.

After the first three rings, he was overthinking his decision. Maybe it was too soon to call? Maybe you didn’t like talking on the phone? What if it went to voicemail? Would he have to leave a message? What would he say? His inner monologue was quickly halted at the sound of your voice.

“Hello, this is Y/N” you sounded distant, almost too formal. He felt nervous.

“Hi… uh… this is Namjoon. Is this a bad time?”

“Oh Namjoon! Sorry I didn’t check who called when I picked up!” Relief washed over him at the change of your tone. “Sorry one sec can you hold on.” he heard you say as your voice got mumbled. He waited while he heard you talk to someone about proposals and deadlines. Were you still at work? He checked his watch - it was 10 pm. He didn’t know whether to be impressed by your work ethic or worried that you were overworking.

“Hi sorry about that! How are you?” He relaxed at your airy tone and smiled.

“I’m good. Are you still at work?”

“Yeah it’s only like 7 so it’s no big deal. I usually leave around 8” Were you serious?

“Y/N… It’s 10:04…” He was shocked at how nonchalant you sounded, and suddenly he had his answer - he was worried, not impressed. He had known you for three days and already you were setting his caretaker alarm off. He wanted to scold you for being careless and overworking, like he’s used to doing for the boys, but he knew it was too soon. He doesn’t even know why he’s feeling that way all of a sudden and tried to suppress his protective instincts.

“No it’s not! It’s…” He could hear your voice going further away as he imagined you moving the phone in front of you to check the time. “Oh shit you’re right. What the hell? Okay sorry I’m gonna put you on hold again.” Before he could say anything he heard your voice again, distant again but loud. “Oh my god. Guys, it’s 10pm. Go home! Why did nobody tell me? No it doesn’t matter we can do that tomorrow. Please go home. Pack up now! You too Siwon, don’t worry I’ll go home after I get off the phone. See you!” He smiled at the sternness of your tone - it reminded him of a teacher dismissing class.

“Sorry about that. I didn’t realize I overworked my team. Had to send the troops home” you laughed and Namjoon felt his heart flutter.

“I don’t wanna keep you from going home. I can call you back once you get there,” he offered. He felt bad that you were staying in an empty office on his account.

“Oh don’t worry about it. It was a lie to get Siwon off my back. I’m probably gonna be here till like 1 or something. I still have to get this done” you said matter-of-factly, like it was the most normal thing in the world. He knew that tone fairly well, having used it multiple times himself when he locked himself in his studio, running on nothing but coffee and energy bars.

“Okay I know we’ve only just met and we have our first date tomorrow, but do you want some company?” He asked before he could stop himself. The line was silent for a bit, and he felt self conscious, scared that he had overstepped and driven you away. Before he could check his phone to see if you had hung up you spoke.

“It’d be pretty boring for you to watch me just type away. Are you sure? It’s pretty late.” He was sure his cheeks would hurt from how wide he smiled.

“It’s not a problem at all. I was going to work tonight too.” He wasn’t. “We can just work together. I’ll bring food. Did you eat yet?” his words tumbled over each other.

“How very college of you.” He could hear you giggling on the line. “Now that I think about it - I’m starving.”

“Okay text me the address, I’ll be there soon.”

He had never been this excited to pretend to work.

He spotted you as he walked through the doors of the 13th floor, pepperoni pizza in hand. You were sitting at a long desk near the middle of the room. He was surprised as he expected you in an office, but he found you typing away at your desktop. Your hair was tied up in a bun and you were dressed in an oversized beige t-shirt, eyebrows furrowed head bopping to the hip hop track playing through the speakers. You seemed to be in your own little world. He felt like he was spying on you as he leaned against the door watching but he also liked seeing how you acted when you thought no one was watching. He was about to announce his presence when the track changed to a Childish Gambino one and you whooped and started to rap along.

You were now fully head banging and rapping the verse at the top of your lungs. He would be impressed by your fairly good amateur skills if he didn’t find the entire scene so endearing. His heart was doing somersaults as he watched you now fully engrossed in the song, typing forgotten as you got up and started to pretend you were on stage, an imaginary mic in your hand asking haters if they “eatin’ though”. You looked so adorable that he couldn’t help but squeal a little “cute!”

That’s when you saw him, eyes wide. He felt a little bad when he saw how embarrassed you looked, immediately stopping and slapping a hand to your mouth before bursting out in nervous laughter. He could write a whole album with that laugh. Oh he was so whipped, he thought to himself as he made his way to you.

“You know you’re not half bad!” He exclaimed as he set the pizza on the table, pulling a chair next to yours and settling down.

“Do you think your fake compliments will save you from the fact that you were spying on me?” you asked, crossing your hands across your chest, pretending to scowl but failing to do so.

“First, real compliment. Second, would pizza save me?” He opened the box and proudly smiled, loving the way your eyes lit up as you reached for a slice.

“Yes it will!” you exclaimed as you took your first bite, lightly moaning at the taste. “But erase that memory from your brain please.”

“Nope. Never. It was the cutest thing I’ve ever seen and I’m going to save it forever” he said as he also started on his slice. You pouted up at him, cheeks puffed and it took all the self-control he had to not kiss it off your face. He hadn’t felt this way in so long, it was like you were his first crush. Trying to control his pulse, he asked “What are you working on so late?”

“Oh I have a proposal due for a meeting tomorrow at noon and I’m only halfway through it,” you frowned wistfully at the screen as if willing it to type on its own.

“Can I help?” He asked, knowing fully well that he couldn’t. He just had an overwhelming urge to make that frown disappear.

“You being here is help enough,” you smiled sincerely as you looked at him and he felt his heart explode, a blush creeping on his cheeks as he smiled bashfully. “What are you working on?”

“I have a few songs I have to finish the lyrics for. Been procrastinating” he rubbed the back of his neck as he pulled out the notebook from his back pocket.

“Can I help?” you echoed his question to which he echoed your response grinning. He wasn’t lying though. Even though he had planned to not really work, as the night progressed he found the change from his usual writing spot inspiring. Sitting next to you, the sound of the keyboard clicking was soothing leading to words pouring out of him. He filled pages as he stole glances at you concentrating on your proposal, tongue peeking from between your lips, still bobbing to the music which was now playing from your airpods instead of the speakers. He smiled at the sight, before focusing on his notebook.

After about an hour or so of hard work, he finished three songs that he had allotted himself the whole week to do. This was the most productive hour he had all month. Antsy for a break, he looked over at you and found you staring at him, a hand under your chin. As he met your gaze you smiled.

“You’re really hot when you concentrate. Has anyone ever told you that?” you commented. He was taken aback by your remark, heart fluttering at your smirking face. Not missing his chance and spurred on by the comment, he scooted closer in one sweep till your knees touched and you were face to face.

“You’re one to talk. I couldn’t stop looking at you this past hour.” Gazing into your eyes, he was amused to see your smirk disappear as it was now your turn to be shocked. He reached out and tucked a stray hair behind your ear letting his hand linger, enjoying the way you sighed as he did. “Can I make good on my promise now?” He whispered, his face centimeters away, looking at your lips. The way you bit your lower lip made him want to take you there and then. The desk looked big enough. Hell, even if it wasn’t he could make it work.

“Promise?” you whispered as he watched your eyes flutter to his lips.

“To kiss you first…” Too impatient to wait for your answer, he brought his lips to yours, relishing how soft they felt under his own. He was thrilled at you returning the kiss, deepening it as you grabbed the collar of his shirt to bring him closer just like you did after the party. He was beginning to think this was your signature move, and he’d be lying if he said it didn’t immensely turn him on. He moved his hand cupping your face to rest on your neck and he could feel your heartbeat mimicking his. He put his other hand around your waist pulling you closer, wanting to be as close to you as he could get. He traced his tongue over your lips, his head cloudy with endorphins as you opened your mouth inviting him in. He had never tasted something so euphoric, his tongue exploring yours in a rush.

He could feel you pushing forward as he leaned back and allowed you to straddle his lap, your legs on either side of the chair. As soon as you were on his lap, he pulled you closer, both arms around on your hips, your chest flushed with his. He kissed the side of your mouth as he made his way down your jaw to your neck. You smelt like vanilla mixed with a fresh flower garden, and he was sure this smell was better than any drug in the world. He could hear your breathy moans as he sucked where your neck met your collarbone, licking to soothe it before moving further. He wanted to taste all of you. Your hands were in his hair and each tug made him groan into you, making him harder. He could kiss you like this forever. He wanted to save this moment so he could come back to it and relive it. He traced his hands up and down your sides, moving under your shirt but remaining on your waist, enjoying the feel of your soft skin.

“Namjoon… Namjoon… slow down” he heard you say breathlessly as he felt a slight push. He looked up at you, your eyes half lidded and lusty as you grabbed his face and brought it to yours. You were sending him mixed signals, but he didn’t care as long as he could keep kissing you.

“We have to slow down or I’m going to want to fuck you right here.” You whined as you both came back up for air, but you kissed him again nevertheless. Hearing you say that made him want to do anything in his power to make that happen.

“I don’t mind, baby,” he said against your lips, kissing you with urgency, biting your lower lip and pulling it gently to elicit another moan from you. To his disappointment, you seemed to have better self-control than him as you pushed him back, both of you panting as you struggled to catch your breath. He moved his hand back to your hips tracing little circles, feeling comforted by you smoothing his hair you had pulled earlier.

“There are cameras here. I’d rather not make a sex tape on our first date.” You giggled as you pointed to the black sphere in the corner of the room. He had never hated the obsession buildings had for security more, but the crudeness of your comment made him laugh. He had almost forgotten this was your first date, it felt like he had kissed you a thousand times before. You tasted like the relief of an awning in the middle of a summer downpour.

“I think we need to cool down,” you say as you climb off of his lap. “Let’s go.”

He followed you as you led him to the little kitchenette near the end of the room, unable to resist the urge to wrap his hands around your waist in a back hug. He knew he was being too clingy for a first date, but the way you giggled and put your hands over his gave him assurance.

“Lemonade, coke, or water,” you asked as you peered into the fridge.

“You.” He smirked kissing your neck, feeling bold off of the high from your makeout session.

“Joon!” you pretended to sound scandalized as you turned in his arms, smiling warmly. The nickname made his heart swell. It added a familiarity that he didn’t know he missed from you.

“You haven’t called me Joon before. I like it” he smiled as he pecked your lips.

“Hey! We are cooling down! No kissing! Now pick” you chided and Namjoon couldn’t help but wonder if you were this assertive in bed too, a million scenarios playing in his head. Okay, you were right, he needed to cool down.

“I’ll just have water, thanks,” he said as he grabbed the bottle you passed him, opening and gulping half of it. He hadn’t realized how thirsty he was for something other than you. You both made your way to the tables, sitting across from each other.

“So did you finish your proposal?” He asked trying to cool himself but failing as he noticed you running the cold water bottle against your neck, the beads of condensation dripping on your shirt. He cleared his throat as he tried to focus his attention on your eyes, a mantra of stay focused playing in his head.

“Yes! Finally! It’s perfect.” you smiled proudly and somehow he felt a wave of pride too. “What about you? Made any progress?”

“Actually yes. I kind of finished my entire week’s writing in that one hour” he was still amazed by his own progress.

“Okay, Mr Overachiever” you joked and he chuckled.

“To be honest, I didn’t think I’d be able to write anything, but I don’t know your presence is kind of soothing. It helped me focus.” Watching your smile grow wide, he continued, “I’ve been having pretty severe burnout this past month and it has just been hard to put down my thoughts, even non-lyrical ones.” He fidgeted with the water bottle as he looked at it, avoiding eye contact.

He didn’t know why he was telling you this. He recalled when he told you about his struggles as a leader during your first conversation. Somehow being around you led him to vomit out his feelings. It was… unlike him. Namjoon was usually not this honest on dates, or relationships, as much as he would hate to admit it. That’s the reason he broke off his last one. He felt bad lying to her about a busy schedule when he just wanted to be alone. She would have understood, she was kind and thoughtful, but it just felt easier to lie and not put the effort in to explain his thoughts. Even when they broke up, he lied and told her that it was because he couldn’t handle being in a relationship at the moment, when in reality things had cooled off a while ago and he felt guilty as his feelings faded.

He felt your hand reach out and grab one of his, intertwining your fingers. He felt comforted by the gesture as you rubbed your thumb across him before you spoke two words that warmed his heart. “I understand.”

“You know it’s hard to work at full speed all the time. It’s okay to not be at a hundred all the time. The valleys feed the peaks” you continued. It was a simple remark, but it sounded surprisingly poetic to him. He hadn’t felt this understood outside of the boys for a long time. It was refreshing. It was terrifying. He resisted his natural urge to run and hide.

“Are you speaking from experience?” he asked, needing to divert the attention away from his own vulnerabilities.

“Yeah. I had it pretty tough a couple of years ago. Too much pressure from myself, too many expectations. Led to too many vices and panic attacks” you shrugged as you continued and he squeezed your hand to comfort you. “It creeps up from time to time but my therapist and I have it handled” He looked at you in awe. You hadn’t given him a throwaway answer or switched the limelight back at him. You wasted no time in being as vulnerable as him, if not more. He knew at that moment that regardless of where this thing went, he wanted you to know you better.

“Thank you for being honest.” He brought your hand to his lips and kissed it gently. It was an intimate gesture but he wanted you to know how much he appreciated your words - how much he appreciated you - in that moment. You both sat in comfortable silence for a little while, playing with each other’s hands that were still intertwined, till one of you yawned loudly causing the other to giggle. With the weight of the conversation lifting, you both fell back into playful banter as you decided to pack up and call it a night.

“Do you want me to walk you to your car?” Namjoon asked, wanting to drag the night on longer despite it already being almost 2 am.

“Don’t judge me but I actually don’t know how to drive. I was just going to cab back.” he saw you giggle bashfully as you pulled your backpack over your shoulders.

“Oh, no judgment here! Me neither” he laughed. Why does everyone think it is such a big deal to not drive? It’s better for the environment! “Do you want to take one together? I don’t really want you to ride alone this late.” He rubbed the back of his neck, hoping he didn’t come off as if he was trying to dictate what you did.

“I’d really like that,” you said as you walked towards the elevators. He held your hand as you both got on, liking the way you moved closer to him at that.

In the cab you both sat closer than necessary, his arm wrapped around you as you both made plans for your scheduled date later that day, trying not to doze off. When the cab stopped all too soon at your apartment, he kissed you gently as he told you how much he enjoyed your company.

That night laying in bed, his heart felt full as he read your goodnight message. He was sure of it now. He really wanted you in his life.

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huntergatherercreator · 3 years

Text

The Takedown | Part Fifteen

Pairing: Mob!Tom Holland x Detective Reader

Summary: NYC has a new drug lord determined to wipe out any and all competition in order to grow his empire. You're going undercover to stop him.

Warnings: Maybe a teeny bit of violence?

AN: It’s been a minute since the last part of this series was posted. I haven’t written anything since then so fingers crossed this is OK.

Part 15 - 1,601 words

My apartment had already been too small. Now with Joe blocking the doorway and Holland practically breathing down my neck it felt tiny. Hunching closer to the laptop screen I tried to focus on the information scrolling before me. I’d pulled up the last three months worth of records detailing what cruise ships had docked and was whittling down the list slowly. There were ones we’d suspected that had already had a full background check but I couldn’t cross them off without raising suspicions.

“What’s this?” I stilled as Holland leaned over my shoulder, finger tapping at an entry. With his breath tickling my throat and the soft scent of shampoo emanating from his curls it took me a minute to focus.

“It seems like a shell company. I can try to trace it but it’ll take time.”

“How can you tell?” Suspicion was apparently his only tone tonight. I nudged out the chair beside me as an invitation. When it went ignored I twisted in my seat, intent on glaring at him until he relented, only to realise too late how close he actually was. My lips skimmed over his cheek. I could feel my colour drain as his breath caught. I made to shove back from the table but his hand caught my shoulder, holding me down.

“Trace them,” he murmured. Hands shaking slightly I pulled up a new search engine to start. Only when I started typing did he let go. Relief trickled through me but it was short lived. Dragging the offered chair to the corner of the table he slipped off his jacket and hooked it to the back before settling with crossed arms to watch me. I flicked a glance over his shoulder to Joe who threw me a wink before going back to staring out the window. Trying to shove back the humiliation I could feel creeping up my cheeks I pulled up as much as I could about the company, already knowing it’d come to a dead end.

After half an hour I read out the details I’d scribbled down, eyes firmly on my notepad as Holland questioned me. Then he chose another company. And another. On and on until we’d almost exhausted the list.

The smell of expensive coffee roused me from my notebook. I blinked and a takeaway cup appeared under my nose courtesy of Joe. I accepted it with a grateful smile and he gave me another of what was becoming his signature winks. Closing the laptop I shuffled my notes into order and put both on the counter allowing Joe to start emptying the paper bag of breakfast foods he’d bought. It wasn’t until I was up out of my chair that I realised how sore I was. Rolling my neck I rubbed at a tender spot on my shoulder with a grimace.

“Maybe you should take five to clean up?” Joe offered. My eyes automatically drifted to Holland for the first time in several hours. He looked as dishevelled as I felt. Hair unruly once again from running his hands through it every time I hit a dead end. I realised with a jolt that I was waiting for his permission.

“Good idea.” I mumbled. Quickly skirting past them both I headed for the bathroom locking the door firmly behind me. I cringed as I caught myself in the mirror. My skin was pale, tired. The tie that had been keeping my hair back had failed leaving long messy wisps falling around my face. Running the cold water I repeatedly doused my skin until I felt the last of the brain fog disappear. I needed to be on higher alert, more so than before. Holland wouldn’t keep accepting the trails going cold. There was only so long he’d sit patiently knowing Rivera was out there. I needed to find a solid lead but I wasn’t sure if I could on my own. As much as I’d learned about tracking down corrupt company details those had all been from tracing low level thugs, people who didn't have the knowledge or the money to properly cover their tracks. Rivera had both of those things. It could be damn near impossible to directly link him to anything.

A jolt ran through me. Wasn’t that exactly what Holland did? He made it impossible for anyone to get information about the next level because each of his men ran their own area. Quickly drying my face I threw open the door coming face to face with Holland.

“You and Rivera are the same,” I started the words dying in my throat as his mood visibly darkened.

“No. We’re not.” He stalked closer and it took me a second to collect my thoughts as replays of the day before hit me. My gaze flicked to the damaged wall. A reminder not to push him, no matter how much I wanted to.

“Let me finish,” I insisted, hands coming up to hold him off. “How did I find you?”

Confusion flashed before irritation settled on his face. “Stupidity, and luck.”

“No. It was through Arnold. The only way to you is through your men. It’s the same with Rivera, he-” He pressed his palms against the door frame either side of me, blocking me in.

“Why are you wasting my time? Rivera’s men don’t know where he is. If they did Joe would have gotten the information.”

“Stop interrupting me!” I shoved against his chest in frustration. He grabbed my wrists spinning me until my back was pressed against the cold tiles of the bathroom. Eyes boring into mine his jaw ticked, grip getting tighter.

“I am nothing like him.” Anger surged as we fell into the same dance we always did. Hooking a leg behind his I used his grip against him and put him on his back. A sliver of sympathy shot through me as he lost his breath but I let my anger chase it away, using it to power my arms into holding him down.

“I’m fed up with you thinking you can push me around and bully me. This,” I motioned with my head to the position we were currently in, “is the last time I have to do this. Understood?”

Eyes unreadable he nodded curtly. I cautiously let go, easing back to a sitting position, not ready to give up the upper hand just yet. When I was sure he wasn’t going to lash out I continued.

“We’re looking through the information for ties to Rivera himself. We should be looking for ties to the men we know he associates with. He’s using them as scapegoats. The companies are in their names, that way if anything goes wrong-”

“Then the trail ends with them” he finished, shoulders slumping as the realisation hit him.

“Exactly. And what better way to ensure your men’s loyalty. They’ll do everything they can to ensure their area runs smoothly because it’s their necks on the line, not his.” My smug smile was missed as he closed his eyes, hands coming up to scrub at his face.

“You didn’t sleep did you?” I asked gently. He let out a humourless laugh, his body rocking under mine. I planted my hands on his stomach to stop from falling onto him. Fingers splayed I could feel the solid muscles that made up his abdomen tensing as he shifted. The realisation of our position hit me. Mouth dry I tried to chase off the scenarios that my brain was throwing at me. I could control myself. Or so I told myself repeatedly.

“Care to let me up?” he asked, eyebrow raising as he looked pointedly at where I was touching him.

Sure he’d somehow been able to read my thoughts it took me a second to find my voice again. “It depends.”

“On?”

“Whether you can behave yourself. I meant it before, this is the last time. You’d never have figured any of this out without me.” I instinctively clenched my hands into fist. His t-shirt got tangled in my grip, tugging it up to reveal a small section of skin just above his waistband where the line of his hipbone slid out of sight. I was a hypocrite asking him to have decency when all I could think about was how much more I’d be able to expose before he stopped me.

“You’re right.” I almost lost my balance in shock at his admittance, eyes darting away from him.

“From now on you can take the lead but only when we’re alone. In front of my men you say nothing.”

I reigned in the urge to roll my eyes. Given who I was dealing with the conditions could have been a lot worse. I could handle letting him keep the facade of all knowing mob boss.

“Deal,” I agreed. “We have breakfast then I need you to get me the names of Rivera’s men. The higher their status the better. I’ll work on retracing the list from earlier and cross referencing it against them. And you, you’re going to get some sleep. It’s a waste of resources having you sit watching me. Joe can help in your place, he was the one that interrogated them anyway so he’ll know more than you do at this stage.” Reluctantly I released his clothing and pushing up to my feet. Instead of joining me he propped himself on his elbows.

“Yes, ma’am,” he answered, deadpan. Spinning I left him on the bathroom floor as the heat that had been simmering through me peaked. Get it together, I mentally scolded myself.

- - - - - - -

Taglist:

@spideylovin

@lukesbabylon

@panicattheeverywherekid

@keep-bears-wild

@unbelievableholland

@tomholland-mcu

@whattheheckparker

@stargazerholland

@gorillaglue23

@marvelpeters

@weirdowithnobeardo

Part 16!

#Mob!Tom #mob!tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #tom holland

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surveycorpsbabie · 3 years

Text

i prefer coffee - levi a.

an // so as much as i love all the fics of midnight tea times with levi i thought i’d put a spin on it. also don’t mind me always starting my blogs with fics about coffee

genre // fluff oh how i love levi fluff

wc // 1.4k+ unedited sorry

Insomnia may have been the bane of your existence in the past, at this point it seems more like an inconvenience. There are more pressing issues to focus and wallow on than a few hours of lost sleep. Still you found little ways to make the best of it.

Before joining the army you saved all the spare money you could manage to buy coffee beans. It was a luxury you knew, there were only a couple greenhouses in the upper ring that could even grow the plants. Still you couldn’t help but continue your habit of saving spare cash for coffee.

The only time you dared make it were on nights that sleep refused to bed you. The kitchens were bound to be empty at 2 am which was all you could ask for. Although you got why you still couldn’t stand the curious noses and endless asks for sips of your rare drink.

So you learned that early mornings were the best, and oddly enough the ritual helped you sleep.

When you first joined the Scouts you didn’t realize there was another night owl. You felt unbelievably embarrassed when you quite literally bumped into Captain Levi, this caused you to spill your drink all over both your boots. You had been saving up for the good beans to celebrate graduating from the cadets and they ended up spilled like mud on your new captain’s boots.

He offered to make you a new cup, you tried to refuse saying it was your fault but he didn’t seem to be listening. You didn’t have the heart to tell him that you had been drinking coffee and not tea. You also didn’t expect him to have any and definitely didn’t think he’d want to share with a scout who hasn’t been outside the walls yet.

Since then you often found yourself sharing conversations with the raven haired captain in the late hours of the night. He often made tea for the both of you. You’d often find yourself hiding a small bag of beans in your pocket when he beat you to chase and you couldn’t make your brew before running into him.

He seemed to enjoy having someone to keep conversation with, you enjoyed his dry jokes and seemingly never ending scowl.

You smiled to yourself when you opened the door to the kitchen and found it empty. On your last day off you bought some preground coffee from a new farmer in the interior and were looking forward to trying it. Finding and trying a more affordable product always puts an extra pep in your step.

You hummed lightly as you watched the water come to a boil. You began to pour the hot water over the grounds. Eyes closed, you enjoy the sweet subtlety in the air and the sound of the coffee drips, they create a gentle harmony that you can’t get enough of.

The sound of someone clearing their throat cut through your moment of peace and pulled your attention to the door.

“Oh! Captain you startled me” you said with a nervous laugh. You wondered for a moment how long he was near, maybe if you had been paying attention you would have heard the echoes from his steps.

He rolled his eyes before muttering a soft “you can call me Levi.”

“But you’re my captain, sir” you tease “I thought you were all for respecting your superiors.”

“I am.” a man of many words, as always. Sometimes you wonder what goes on in that brain of his; why does he make conversations so hard to predict.

He stepped further into the dimly lit kitchen and watched with a bored expression as you finish making your drink.

“Coffee?”

You turn for a moment to soak up his appearance, he had one eyebrow raised slightly clearly curious.

“Yes I finally have a moment to try out this new blend.”

Perhaps your eyes sparkled when you talked about your secret passion or maybe you were making up the look of intrigue that Levi now wore.

He only hummed, taking a moment to think. A trait you noticed quite early on in your acquaintanceship, you hesitate to call him a friend...or more.

“I didn’t know you liked coffee.”

“Well I don’t get to enjoy it much, and you’re clearly a tea person so it never came up I guess.”

“Tch and I’ve been making you tea for years like an idiot.”

You couldn’t help but laugh “well I enjoy your tea so don’t worry too much about it. Now did you want to stand in the kitchen all night or do you want to sit down?”

You had almost forgotten about that night, days passed and soon weeks passed too. New cadets had come and with them lots of paperwork. Levi had asked you to help a couple times a week from now on, apparently asking said cadets to help was out of the question. As the captain so eloquently said ‘they are all useless shits’.

You gave a gentle knock on the office door, you knew you were already expected but still it felt off to drop any formalities with humanity's strongest.

A muffled ‘come in’ rang through from the other side of the ruffley cut door.

His office was always surprisingly warm considering the large window that should be seeping cold air into the room. Maybe it was a trick of the mind, the oil lamp gave a warm atmosphere and the smell of paper was oddly comforting.

You spotted the less than plush looking chair that sat across from the pair of eyes that watched as you make your way across the room.

He wordlessly slides you a stack of papers that were topped with a pen with one hand and a cup of presumably tea with the other.

Skimming the document you reach for the steaming cup, reading while drinking something was sometimes awkward but after many late nights you’d like to think you’ve mastered the art of reading while looking over a mug's rim.

To your surprise the warm beverage was not in fact tea, but coffee. You look to Levi for answers, surely he didn’t go to all the trouble of getting this just for you.

“What’s with the face? Did you eat something off?”

Any other time you would have cracked a smile at his specific bowel focused humour but you were spiraling. You almost scoffed at yourself, it’s only a drink.

“You got me coffee?”

“You said it was only for you huh?”

Your cheeks warmed “n-no i didn’t mean...i just meant it’s so hard to get and…”

“Just say thank you and move on.”

“Thank you..”

You shakily try to focus your attention back on the paperwork but it proved a difficult task. Was it really not a big deal? No, you knew how though it was to find coffee and he must have gone to the upper ring for it. It couldn’t mean nothing then right?

Taking a deep breath you center yourself. There was a long night ahead of you and that night had no time for your reading into what drink your captain gave you really meant.

“Stop overthinking.”

“I’m not” you try to give a reassuring smile “it’s pretty basic paperwork after all.”

“Tch.” his sharp eyes scan you for a moment, he was taking another moment to think over his words. “You know I wasn’t talking about paperwork.”

Looking down again you speak, meeting his gaze felt overwhelming for once. “Then what were you talking about?” You grasp for your cup and drink, eyes locked on the swirling movement of the dark liquid.

“You're not making too much of this.”

“The coffee...or us?” you could hear your heartbeat banging in your ears, the heat from your cheeks burned and you were sure he would make note of the colour. This was it, you had been dancing around subtleties and long glances for too long. If you had misread things you’ll never be able to look him in the eyes again.

The banging of your heart was suffocating.

Was this just his moment before talking?

Was this a pause for him to think of the right words to let you down?

Were you going to have to switch squads? Maybe Hange would take you in.

“Don’t be stupid. Why would I go to all the trouble of finding overpriced beans if there was no us?”

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #aot #snk #aot x reader #snk x reader #attack on titan x reader #shingeki no kyoujin x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #levi ackerman x you

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autisticcassandracain · 3 years

Text

Braids and Cuts

Fandom/Characters: Batman Comics, Cassandra Cain & Duke Thomas

Wordcount: 1475

Summary: Cass convinces Duke to cut his hair with her, and suggests getting braids. Duke has mixed feelings. The last person who'd done his braids was his mom.

Notes: Written for @duketectivecomics’s Duke Week Day 6: Family Bonding! I tried my best to do my research to be respectful and realistic, but I’m white, so if I got anything wrong regarding natural hair, please let me know! You can read this on AO3 here!

///

The Wayne Manor bathroom closest to their bedrooms - because there was more than one, he’d never get used to this mansion no matter how long he spent in it - was still larger than Duke’s old bedroom, which made it easily large enough to drag a truly gigantic standing mirror in there, so they’d be able to see the back of their heads without the hassle of a handheld mirror. Duke laid their guards out while Cass stood in front of it.

“Who’s first?” Cass asked, angling her head so she could see both her sides.

“You, ‘cause mine’ll probably take longer.” Plus, he hadn’t entirely decided whether he’d go through with it. It’d taken quite a while for his hair to grow back this long, and even cutting half of it off was... daunting, to say the least.

When you can’t jump off rooftops, just cut your own hair, you’ll get about the same adrenaline rush.

“I want just one side shaved,” Cass reminded him while she sat back in the chair.

Duke pulled out a clipper and rolled his eyes. “I know, you’ve only said it about three hundred times, but thanks for the reminder.”

“You’re welcome.”

“So, lowest guard?”

The mirror reflected Cass’s huge grin. “Yup.”

It was easier than Duke had expected it to be, but then again, Cass’s hair was straight as a board. The scissors went in almost as easy as the clippers, and before he knew it, half her head was gone and shaved.

And yeah, it actually did look pretty damn good.

Admittedly, Duke had been skeptical when Cass’d first suggested getting dual haircuts. Not just because he’d never done his own hair, but because Cass’s fashion sense was... questionable. Sure, she had strong opinion on how she should look, which was something. It was just unfortunate that none of her opinions were any good. She’d been known to combine every colour in the visible light spectrum in the same outfit, socks with crocs, and just straight up rip off pieces of her clothes if she didn’t like how it looked. Sometimes it worked. Most of the time, it really didn’t.

But she’d come prepared with a photo album of approximately a thousand different tapered cuts, saved sides, and every braid, loc, and twist combo with those you could imagine, and, well. When Duke’d first started growing out his hair again, he’d hoped it would lead to him finally learning how to be creative with it, like his mom was. In practice, he’d done absolutely nothing, except narrowly keeping it alive. Maybe it was time for a chop.

“You sure you don’t want me to do the other side?” Duke asked, fully expecting a no.

Instead, Cass paused, looking in the mirror, angling her head this way and that. Then, she grabbed the clippers from his hand, and raked it through her hair.

“Cass!”

“I’m doing a buzzcut.”

“I thought you said you wanted one side? You were pretty adamant about it!”

“Changed my mind.”

“Why?”

“Queer reasons.”

Duke rubbed his nose. “Sure, okay, whatever makes you happy. But can I at least finish it?”

Cass paused, cocked her head a little, then handed him the clippers.

“Thanks. And I hope you’re not expecting me to cut everything off.”

“Nope.”

“Good, because I spent way too long growing it for that.” And with that, he started shaving the rest of her head.

Around the time he was busy trying not to cut her ear off (easy, with the guard, but still), Cass said, “You should get yellow yarn braids.”

Duke threw her an incredulous look through the mirror. “You’re either wildly underestimating how long yarn braids take, or my patience.”

“You like them,” Cass insisted.

Which, yes, she wasn’t wrong, but, “How could you possibly know that?”

“You kept coming back to them. In the style collection.”

And, yeah, he had. Sure, getting yellow yarn braids was about as ironic as writing ‘I AM THE SIGNAL’ on the side of his head, but it was just such a cool look. He could save both sides of his head and keep them long, or shave only one and make them shorter, and both would be amazing.

“I’m not getting them,” he said. He shut the clipper off. “There, how do you like that?”

The only thing left on Cass’s head were tiny, prickly hairs, that she immediately went to rub her hand across. She stood up and twirled a bit in the mirrors, wearing a huge grin. “Love it.”

“Glad to hear that.” He gave her the clippers. “Go wash that, I should probably section my hair first.” She gave him a thumbs up and moved towards the sink.

They worked in silence for a little while, Duke carefully separating his hair with a comb and moisturizing it, while Cass washed and dried the clippers. The sound of running water would’ve been soothing if Duke wasn’t running high on nerves.

“Can I do it?” Cass asked.

“Cass, I love you, but I’d rather die than let you anywhere near my hair.” He gestured towards her hand. “Give me the clippers.”

And with a pout, she handed them over and hopped onto the washing machine to watch.

Well. No putting it off anymore.

He put the clippers to his head and went to work.

It wasn’t as difficult as he’d expected it to be. He slowly worked over his head, making sure to keep his eyes on the mirror, even as he could feel Cass staring at him.

“I could do the braids,” she offered, from atop the washing machine.

“What part of ‘I’d rather die than let you near my hair’ did you not get?” Duke answered, barely paying attention.

“You used to have braids.”

That made him pause his clipping. “How do you know?”

“Saw pictures at your house.”

“Ah.” He’d taken them down for a while, after he’d come out, but he’d taken a few kid photos with him in foster care, after his parents... you know. It was comforting to hold onto these memories, and over time, it had stopped being strange or embarrassing to see himself look like a little girl. Even a bit nostalgic, in a weird way.

Which might be why he was considering bringing back the styles he’d worn before he’d come out. It made him remember the way his mom used to braid his hair. She was a fast braider, had to be, with box braids being her preferred style. She wore them for as long as she could get away with it, preferring natural looks for her own hair, but gladly braided his with as many beads and bright colours as he asked. He’d never actually been to a professional; braiding had been his and his mom’s little ritual, over the weekend, with Netflix or songs in the background. They’d only stopped when he’d come out and clipped his hair short.

“My mom used to do my braids,” he simply said, and Cass made an understanding noise.

“Don’t you want to learn?” she asked.

On the one hand, he did. He’d always wanted to learn, to be just as fast as his mom. On the other hand, he really, really didn’t. He just wanted his mom to do them for him, forever. Or at least for another few years, to make up for lost time.

Also, on a lighter note, he didn’t feel like sitting still for like, two days, while failing to do his first pair of braids, and really didn’t feel like doing it all alone.

He’d nearly reached the end of his haircut, detangling the last piece of hair to cut before going in for precision clips. It went swift, after that, and in the end, the haircut looked good. Full on the top, low on the sides and back. Mom had always had a full head of hair, but he felt like braids on this style would give it his own twist.

He’d like to show it to her. Maybe she’d even be present enough to appreciate it.

“I’ll do the yarn braids on one condition,” he announced, turning to Cass.

She peaked up. “What?”

“You stay with me the entire time while I do them, and you’re not allowed to get distracted on your phone.”

She grimaced. “You’re mean.”

“You’re the one that wants me to do the braids.”

“Only because it’d make you happy.”

“And because it’d look cool?”

“I’d prefer pink. And orange.”

“Of course you do, you lesbian. Do we have a deal?”

She wrinkled her nose, but said, “Deal.”

It took way longer than he (or Cass, who complained the whole time) would have liked, but two days later, he had yarn braids that ended mid-back, with electric yellow yarn.

He couldn’t be sure, but he thought his mom liked them.

#dukethomasweek2021 #duke thomas #cassandra cain #my posts #my writing #also cass is intended to be a nonbinary trans lesbian but it didn't come up that much

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writingsfromhome · 3 years

Text

Nuclear Family II

Part 2: Miscommunications

A/N: part 2!! I was so overwhelmed w how much you guys enjoyed the first part, kind of made my head go blank lol. But now I rewrote it and added more ~spice. Sorry it took so long but I so appreciate all of you engaging w it! 💖

Part I / Part II / Part III / Part IV / Part V

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

Sleeping in was not something that existed when you had a child and Harry learns that the hard way. By half past 7, I’m already up because of the poking on my cheeks and when I come out from brushing my teeth, I hear shouts from upstairs.

“Charlotte!” I shout up but I'm ignored. I climb the stairs and locate the door to the small voice. “Charlotte let your dad sleep!” I open the door to Charlie jumping on Harry's bed and Harry rubbing his eyes. His eyes go to mine when the door opens and he lets out a chuckle.

“Parenthood,” I sigh and try to grab Charlie from the bed. She moans to come back and wiggles her way out to run back to the bed. Harry's sitting up at this point and I blush realising he didn’t have on a shirt. I had to stop acting 12.

“I want to play!” Charlie shouts, still jumping.

“Alright you crazy monkey!” Harry grabs our daughter and whispers something to her before attacking her in tickles. She shouts for me to help but when I try to help Harry pulls me into the covers and Charlie climbs atop me to tickle me instead.

“You two sneaks!” I shout between fits of laughter but Charlie soon tires and lays beside me, her head resting on my chest. Harry lies down on the other side of her, propped up on his elbow.

“I’m just going to…” Harry grabs his phone from his bedside table and holds it above us. Charlie already loved posing for cameras, so she grins but I cover my face. “Y/N come on! One photo!”

“Fine but I get to take it,” I bargain. Harry agrees and hands me the phone, shoving in closer so our heads almost touch. I ignore the closeness and stretch the phone above us, getting my good side, and just before I click it I shout “please!” a phrase Charlie used to say when she was younger instead of cheese. It gets a giggle out of her and in the photo her eyes are squinted and her grin is pure joy. Harry is glancing at me with a faint smile on his face while my expression is stretched out in 'please.’

Suddenly the cute family photo disappears as the phone vibrates and a picture of a woman smiling on a boat appears. Harry's girlfriend. My smile curdles as I awkwardly hand over the phone to Harry. It was an abrupt reminder of what Harry and I weren’t, despite the illusion of the photo.

"Let's give your dad some privacy," I pick up Charlotte despite her protests and bring her outside.

"Who's on the phone?" She asks as I seat her on the kitchen counter. I glance at her concerned face and remember that kids were a lot more intuitive than we gave them credit for.

"His friend," I answer as truthfully as I could without breaking her heart. The weeks following our trip Charlie talked so often about having both her mom and dad together-like we were getting together forever. Even though I broke it to her gently, she still carried that flame--I didn't want to extinguish those hopes so early on.

"Is she your friend too?" Charlie asks innocently.

"Just your dad's." I kiss her forehead and then get breakfast started, so by the time Harry comes down it's almost done.

"Shit," Harry says and then glances at our daughter who's too busy with Oreo to notice his language. "I was meant to make you two breakfast your first morning here!"

"It's alright," I shrug, unable to make eye contact. "Just grab a plate."

"I feel awful," Harry joins me in the kitchen. "Have you made coffee yet?"

"No," I glance at the machine.

"I'll do that then."

"Three sugars-"

"And a drop of milk," Harry finishes. "I remember."

"Right," I flush. How odd that we keep tiny details of one another, however useless, for years after we split.

"So I sort of forgot but-"

"Mom!" Charlie interrupts Harry and I tell her it would be a minute.

"Right, well when I was talking just now w-"

"Mom! I'm starving!"

"Charlotte! Give me a minute!" I say sternly before putting the last of her strawberries on the plate. I set Charlie's breakfast up and Harry joins with our coffees. Before we even sit, Charlie begins her monologue about coffee and how she was going to drink it when she's old enough.

"That won't be for a while," I comment, glancing up at Harry who was still standing by his chair.

"I'll drink it when I'm five," she holds up her fingers and counts them down. "Then I can drink it."

Harry and I share a brief glance, him opening his mouth to say something before the doorbell rings.

"Oh sh-uh-I'll get that," Harry rushes to get the door. Charlie spills her juice in the process so I pick up the sippy cup and grab paper towels to mop the spill.

"They're right through here," Harry's voice carries over and he enters again with his...friend.

"Hi," she has a pleasant smile and hips that had obviously never carried a child. My own had never quite recovered.

"Hi," I hold up the dirty towels and quickly lower them, painfully aware of how terrible I looked. I couldn't help but compare myself to Harry's girlfriend-especially when she looked like that.

"You're daddy's friend," Charlotte says matter-of-factly.

"I am!" Her voice raises an octave as she walks towards my daughter. "I'm Miranda it's nice to finally meet you!"

Charlie looks up at me and then back to her. "Why aren't you mommy's friend?"

An awkward silence follows and I can't help but glance at Harry. He rubs the back of his neck before stepping forward towards Charlie.

"I've only just met your mommy," Miranda glances up at me with another smile but this time it's stretched too tight. "But we can all be friends! It's nice to meet you."

Charlie looks at me and I smile at her in encouragement. "Okay," she concedes before going back to her piece of toast.

"Have you had breakfast?" Harry asks her quietly.

"I had a coffee," she answers. "But we'll be late if we don't leave now."

"Have you got somewhere to be?" I ask, unaware as Harry hadn't mentioned it yesterday.

"A friend of mine has a wedding thing," she keeps glancing at Harry even though she talks to me.

"I forgot about it," Harry says. "Miranda reminded me this morning I meant to tell you but the pancake monster kept shouting for her pancakes!"

Charlie giggles and tears into another one.

"We've got to be there half past ten," Miranda says quietly to Harry.

"I'm not even ready!" Harry looks down. "I need to shower too. Give me a half hour."

"This is why I had to come early," she shakes her head at me as if we shared an inside joke. I smile knowing how fake it felt. Harry gives me a pleading look as if to say he was sorry before heading upstairs but I shake my head and go to the kitchen to wash the sticky juice off my hands. I hear Miranda talking to Charlie and stay longer than I needed to in the kitchen before heading out again.

"It was really nice to finally meet you," Miranda tells me after Harry finishes up and they get going. She bends down to high-five Charlotte. "And you too!"

"I'll see you around 5," Harry tells me. "I've left keys so you can just come and go whenever."

"I thought we were going to have lunch together," Charlie pouts, suddenly realizing what this all meant.

"I know love," Harry picks her up. "I forgot about this party I had to go to."

"You never forgot at home," Charlie's bottom lip quivers.

"Dad will be home soon," I take Charlie from Harry before the waterworks could start. "And we're gonna have so much fun together right?"

"It's bullshit!" Charlie shouts. My cheeks colour and Harry's jaw drops before he bites back a laugh.

"Charlotte!" I scold but she runs away from my arms. I meet Miranda's eyes and they're wide as saucers.

"I don't know where she...picked up on that." I say lamely. I never swore in front of her-well rarely did. She must have been listening yesterday. Harry tries to say something about it but I cut him off. "Just go. I'll deal with her."

He hesitates but leaves with Miranda who looks relieved to go. I feel bad for Charlotte, knowing how excited she was to spending her whole first day with Harry and I find myself annoyed at him too for forgetting the event and ruining the plans.

I find our daughter curled up in bed and before I could give her a warning about swearing she's wrapped her arms around my neck and shoves her snotty face in my shoulder, apologizing for saying the bad word.

"As long as I don't hear it again," I say without much conviction. I was too upset with Harry to be upset with her too.

I put Charlotte in front of the TV as I clean up breakfast and try to work through my feelings. I couldn't tell if I was more upset about Harry bailing on us or seeing him with his girlfriend; anyone with eyesight could see they had good chemistry and it bothered me. But I came here knowing he was dating somebody else and knowing nothing would happen between us. But then last night, Harry was more affectionate than he needed to be. Maybe he was working through old emotions too, I figure. Maybe I didn't need to read into every single thing.

I decide that Charlie and I wouldn't feel sorry for ourselves and dress us up to step out. I pay a visit to an old friend and we all go out to lunch-Charlie being kept company by my friend's five year old. As we head out I check my phone to see nine missed calls from Harry and a few texts asking where I was-it was already 6 and I hadn't even noticed.

I text Harry simply saying we were on our way home and listen to Charlie talk about her new friend the whole tube ride home. But once we reach Harry's flat, my mood sours. For starters, his girlfriend is still over and Harry is really upset I hadn't picked up.

"Where've you been?" Harry asks calmly but his annoyance betrays his true feelings.

"Hey," I let Charlotte down. "We were just having a late lunch with y/f/n and time got away from us."

"I've been calling and texting-you didn't hear?" Harry, surprisingly, is still trying to remain calm.

"My phone was away," I laugh off the tension noting that Miranda sat awkwardly at the dining table. "We had the keys so-"

"I was worried," Harry glances at Charlie who was preoccupied.

"You told us we could spend the day out--that's why you gave the keys," I say a little aggressively.

"I wanted-I thought we could go out before dinner since I couldn't spend the morning with Charlotte." Charlie looks up at the sound of her full name.

"I had lots of fun with my new friend," Charlie states and I could tell she was still angry at Harry with the stubborn set of her chin. She'd gotten that from me.

"Just mixed signals," I interrupt. "It's not a big deal-we just need to communicate our plans better, okay?"

"I booked us tickets for a movie," Harry's continues, his voice is definitely bordering on aggressive and I wonder why he was so upset and making such a show while his girlfriend was still here. "And dinner reservations and now that's gone to waste! Keep your phone on you if-"

"No," I say assertively to stop Harry as his voice rises. "I understand I'm living at your place because I had no choice, but you don't get to speak to me like that. We're Charlotte's parents but we're nothing to each other. Next time, don't forget your own plans and communicate to me clearly if you want to go out with all three of us. Now excuse me."

I pick my bag up again and head to the room, my eyes burning and my heart racing. I hear Charlie's little footsteps behind me and I feel guilty that it hadn't even been a day and she had to witness us arguing. Why was parenting so hard?

I stay in the room and don't come out even as Charlie heads back out again when Harry calls us for dinner or when I hear Miranda leave or a movie being put on. I stay on my laptop, working, and ignoring the slight hunger at the back of my mind.

A sharp knock on the door catches my attention. The door opens slightly and Harry stands looking the complete opposite from the afternoon.

"Hi," he lets himself in and leans against the wall. "I wanted to say sorry. I didn't mean to get that upset with you I was more frustrated with myself for forgetting the party in the morning and ruining Charlie's first day here. And I was upset that she was upset with me so I planned something fun with her to make up for it and it fell through too."

I stay silent for a moment, after Harry finishes. I was still upset with him. And that wasn't a good excuse to chew me out in front of his girlfriend.

"I understand that," I shrug. "But I don't appreciate the way you just came at me with all those accusations. Especially in front of our daughter and while your girlfriend was there."

"Miranda's fine," Harry says. "She wouldn't have minded-"

"I minded!" I exclaim. "Oh my god Harry I've only just met her! This isn't my house or my city and to have a stranger sit through an argument with my baby daddy is not very fun."

"Right," Harry gets it. "Sorry. I just...keep feeling like I'm fucking up everything. I wanted Charlie here and to be with her as much as I could and now I have an angry three year old. She only just started talking to me because I gave her extra dessert."

I freeze, "Harry if you gave her extra dessert you're dealing with the consequences."

"What do you mean?" Harry perches on the bed.

"She's going to stay up and be super hyper and I'm not dealing with that."

"Ugh," Harry falls back onto the bed. "This is why I need you. You can't be angry at me, I'm such an amateur at this parenting thing and you're the wise one with all the knowledge like don't give your kid a second helping of dessert."

Harry rubs his eyes from where he lays, his shirt riding up to expose his stomach. I glance away, old feelings stirring up.

"Is there still dinner?" I change the subject.

"Of course," Harry shoots up. "I'll warm some up for you."

As I eat, I'm entertained first by the children's movie and then by Harry dealing with a hyperactive Charlie. She begins hopping around and jumping from couch to couch, tackling Harry and then coming my way. I pick her up and blow raspberries on her belly as she laughs.

"Tire her out quickly," I advise Harry as I go to clean up. "She'll fall asleep faster."

As I settle into bed, my heart twinges hearing the voices outside my room. It sounded like a family, like a family that could be mine. And the thought keeps me up even after the voices die down and Harry carries a sleeping Charlie into the room.

I keep my eyes closed and feel him tuck her in beside me. I sense him standing above the bed, the smell of him grows stronger as he leans over and kisses Charlie goodnight. I feel him hesitate before he presses his lips to my temple. I relive that single moment as he closes the door behind him and Charlie snuggles into me. And I start to realise that staying with Harry was one of my worst ideas yet.

#harry styles fic #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #fic #harry styles imagine #dad!harry #I can't decide if I want more drama or fluff #if ur reading this pls help #lol #harry styles #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #writingsfromhome

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oddsnendsfanfics · 3 years

Text

Sparkle

Genre: Fan Fiction (Sand Castle)

Pairing: N/A

Warnings: It’s so fluffy!

Rating: G

Length: Drabble

Disclaimer: a strict work of fiction, I own nothing except the original characters and the plot line. In no way am I affiliated to any of it.

A/N: thank you @rmtndew for the edit of Sy in glasses :D More Sy and Wispy? Why yes!

Henry Cavill Master List

“Uncle Sy,” Annie giggled at her uncle, as he pulled a face. “Sit still.” Her voice going firmer.

Beside her, Willow had her hand on her hips shaking her head at their uncle. “Uncle Sy, we need you to stay very still.”

“Fine, fine.” He gave in sitting statue straight, still as could be.

“Close your eyes, please.” Annie instructed.

Doing as he was asked, Sy closed his eyes and leaning against the couch to support his back. Cross legged on the floor, a mound of pillows under him, he fought the smirk that kept threatening to creep onto his face. The two little girls painting the floral scented mud, clay, paint? Whatever the cool, thick stuff was onto his face. Around his beard, across his cheeks and forehead. Sy felt the soft brush that Aimee had handed them against his skin.

“You know Sy,” Aimee's voice greeted him, yet his eyes remained closed, “this stuff is actually pretty good. It might even help brighten that complexion of yours. Tired and sunburned was so last year.”

Snorting, Sy shook his head, both nieces scolding him for moving while they tried to apply the mask. Directing him to pucker his lips, Willow stood in front of him, a glob of lip moisturizer on her brush, she slapped it on spreading it thickly against his red chapped lips. The girls were taking good care of their Uncle Sy.

At least they wanted to do it at home this time. Sy was unsure of the product quality, but the service was far better and cheaper than when he'd taken them to an actual spa. Now that had been a sight, the look on the woman's face when the giant, bearded man in boots strode into the salon with the two little girls in tow. Despite the initial shock, Sy had to hand it to them, those ladies were magical.

He'd left feeling like his hands, feet, and face had been kissed by angels and butterflies. Hell, he'd even let Willow and Annie pick out a polish for his toes. Sitting in the chair chatting with the woman painting his toes, while his nieces had watched from their own pedicure chairs, Sy learned that men coming in to dote on their daughters and nieces wasn't really all that uncommon. He, however, was one of the first to ask for Pompeii Purple toes. The shade had really brought out his eyes.

In his sister's living room, Sy chuckled when Willow announced that he absolutely needed to trim that scraggly beard of his. In their life time, neither of his nieces had ever bore witness to their uncle without his beard. He liked it too much to part with it. Besides, the women loved it. Clearing his throat, Sy opened his eyes, a mocking frown on his face.

“Don't you dare touch my beard, understood bub?” He smirked. Willow nodded and Annie, standing just out of sight giggled. “There will be no cutting of my beard, until I say so.”

“Oh come on, Sy.” Aimee teased from the kitchen. “You could use a trim,” she winked at Annie.

“I would prefer to do it myself, thank you sister dearest.” He winked at Willow, a near impossible task with the clay beginning to set on his face.

“What if we just make it pretty?” Annie piped up, shuffling into the room with a hairbrush and bows in her hands. “Can we?”

“Please, Uncle Sy.” Willow pulled out the puppy dog eyes. Bouncing on her tip toes with excitement.

Playfully grumbling, Sy waited a minute or two. Letting the little girls get antsy before agreeing. Under some conditions. Nothing but a comb and some pink sparkly bows went into his beard. If they so much as tugged the wrong way, Sy was combing it himself. His beard was his pride and joy, right after his Wispy. He'd worked hard over the years to grow this bad boy.

“Gently,” He reminded them, lifting his chin for Willow to gingerly take the comb through his thick beard.

Climbing onto the couch behind him, Annie sat with her legs crossed gently rubbing a hair brush through his growing curls. A full out pamper day wasn't entirely bad. Enjoying his “spa treatment”, Sy winced when he heard Aimee giggling like a child on too much sugar. He knew his sister well enough to know that this was not going to be good.

“Aim, what in the hel-ck are you doing?” Sy asked glancing at his sister. Her phone poised as she giggled and shrugged.

“I thought ma might like to see. Maybe fire one off to the boys. You still in touch with the Major? Show him what retirement does for ya?”

“You wouldn't dare,”

“Send one to the Major? No. But I would send it to ma and everyone else we know. Come on Sy, you're adorable. You should let me share this on that mommy blog, it would be a hit.” She laughed. “Former Army Captain attacked by Girl Scouts.”

Sy replied with a grunt. More than one single mother, and a few not so single, on that damn blog Aimee was part of had themselves hot and bothered for the youngest Syverson. Every time Aimee mentioned her brother, at least one woman would ask if he was seeing somebody or how he liked children, who weren't his. Sy liked children fine, but he had no interest in taking on any to parent.

“Leave Uncle Sy alone,” Willow pouted, as she put the last bow into his beard. “Don't be mean, mommy.”

“I wasn't being mean, baby girl. Uncle Sy and I were teasing. Now, why don't you finish up those bows and help him wash his face. You can't leave the mask on too long, remember.”

“Oops,”

“It's okay bub,” Sy pulled away from the hair styling by Annie. “You ladies clean up a bit out here and I will go clean my face off.”

Striding down the hall, Sy could feel the clay on his face hardening and drying. If nothing else his pores would be flawless for a few days. Chuckling as he went, he could hear Annie and Willow in the living room. No doubt discussing their next plan for their uncle's beauty treatment. If he had to, there was a lovely yellow nail polish that he'd been eyeing in the box of tricks. It may not be the right season for yellow, but it would surely make the hair on his big toes really pop.

In the bathroom, he grabbed a wash cloth and turned the taps. Allowing the water to reach a nice, warm temperature he began scrubbing the dried clay away from his face. The bows in his hair and beard were a sight to behold. Admiring the handy work, Sy stood for a few seconds looking at the man in the mirror. The one grizzled, gruff, hard as nails and fearless Captain was reduced to a soft and gentle giant.

He loved spending the time with the kids, allowing them to have their fun, before Uncle Sy packed up and drove back across town. It was no wonder people were forever asking him when he'd have his own. Ah well, it was better this way. Sy enjoyed the company of the kids, but all the time and he would be even more grizzled and cranky than he was when he was stationed over in the desert.

Being home had it's perks, like getting to be with his family whenever he wanted. Having sleepovers with the kids, whenever Willow decided that he was lonely in his house. Or how she was forever trying to set him up with any woman they came across, while he had her out. That one was less and less cute, especially as she had somehow been targeting only married women lately.

The last thing Sy wanted was to get his ass kicked by some woman's husband or wife, for hitting on their wife because some kid said she was pretty. Shaking his head, he finished checking himself in the mirror to make sure he had all of the clay off.

Cleaned up and refreshed Sy joined the girls in the living room.

“Ladies, what's next?”

“Lunch!” “Make up!”

Laughing at their very different ideas, he nodded to Annie. “I agree lunch is the much better idea, make up can be after.”

“But mommy said we could go out for lunch. You can't go out unless you have a proper face on.” Willow pouted. Annie sighed. Her cousin had a point.

“Girls,” Aimee spoke, she was about to do everything in her mom power, to get Sy out of this one. As amused as it would be, seeing her brother go to lunch in a full face of make up.

“No, no she's right.” Sy nodded in agreement. “Aim, why not let Annie do your make up and Wispy can do mine. Then we'll all be ready for lunch, hel-ck, I'll even pay. Treat all of my girls.”

“Yeah!” The cheers went up from the girls.

Aimee, rolling her eyes and making a mental note to kill her brother later on. She would never forgive him, nor forget. Some day, she would get him back. This is when she should suggest wearing their best dresses – Sy included. Instead, she'd pay him back when he least expected. Maybe the next time, she'd insist they go for lunch wearing some over the top princess costumes.

Sy chuckled, what did they have to lose? At 11 years old, Annie was more than capable at putting together some make up. Willow was eccentric with her colour palate, but Sy wasn't worried much about that.

“Mommy, please. Please, we can all do our make up and go for lunch.”

“I hate you,” Aimee whispered passing her laughing brother, sitting down on the floor. “Okay, girls, let's get to it. Then we can make Uncle Sy take us for the best lunch, we've ever had.”

“Drive thru at Burger King isn't that fancy,” laughing, Sy nudged his sister with his elbow.

“Oh, but Sy if we have our best faces on, we need something better than cheap burgers in a bag. I was hoping maybe we could go to Janet's.”

It was Sy's turn to roll his eyes and stifle a groan. Of course Aimee would insist they go inside to eat. Saturday was the busiest day of the week for the small diner. Whatever, Sy was man enough to take it. With more confidence than anyone had ever seen, he would walk into that diner, head high, and his beard bows sparkling. The things he did to keep these children happy.

If it meant buying a hundred ponies, wearing full make up, and walking across a floor of legos – Sy would do it all to see these kids smile.

“I love Janet's!” Willow squealed dancing on her tiptoes, nearly poking her uncle in the eye with the eye shadow brush she was using. The hot pink creme shadow she had chosen for him was really going to pop with his dark beard. “Uncle Sy, please. Please can we go? You said that you would take me there the next time we went for lunch, you said that I could have a big sundae and...”

“Sy?” A sideways glance at her baby brother, Aimee puckered her lips for Annie to apply some lipstick. Offering the kids ice cream as a meal wasn't a crime, but it would explain why they sometimes came home bouncing around like mad hornets in an old coke can.

“Wispy, you're not supposed to tell your ma that I let you at ice cream as a meal.”

“Sorry, but can I?”

“Maybe for dessert, you can Annie can shade a giant sundae.” Aimee reasoned.

“Fine, but the next time we go....” Staring at her uncle, Willow pouted.

“Whatever you want, bubs.” Smirking at his sister, Sy conveniently pointed to the blush in the bag, asking Willow if she thought the orangeish colour would work for him. “Whatever you want.”

#captain syverson #captain syverson fanfic #henry cavill

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gaming-universe · 3 years

Text

Who We Are || Russell Adler

Call of Duty Black Ops: Cold War

-PART FOUR-

Warnings: SPOILERS FOR CALL OF DUTY BLACK OPS: COLD WAR! IF YOU HAVEN’T PLAYED/FINISHED THE CAMPAIGN THEN PLEASE DONT READ! Gore, violence, course language, mature content.

Summary: Betrayed and alone after surviving the events that took place on the Solovetsky Islands, Y/n ‘Bell’ L/n faces new and more dangerous threats when she learns that Perseus has other plans for his failed nuclear detonation of Europe. It was only a matter of time before Y/n came face to face with her old team. There is unfinished business between Y/n and Adler, as this operation proves to be more deadly than originally thought.

Author’s Note: So, after finishing the campaign, I needed to do Bell/Player and Adler justice. I loved this game so much, and chosing to play as the female character, I felt like there was a genuine connection between Bell and Adler throughout the game. There is a tag list open for anyone that wishes to stay up to date with the series. Simply comment below. Gif by @travelllar (Girl I’m using all your gifs they are absolutely amazing)

Another day, another sleepless night.

It was 5am, the sky a light deep blue, and the last of the Soviet soldiers were leaving town. They had searched almost every square inch of this small fishing village, searching for anyone that might be harboring the ones who broke into their base. You thanked whatever god there was that they seemed to forget about Viktor’s house, which was practically veiled by the night sky on a hill below the lighthouse.

You had been awake since one that morning, watching the Soviet soldiers busy about the town like flies on a wound. As dawn broke, you sighed heavily, closing your tired eyes and pinching the bridge of your nose. Your head throbbed painfully from the lack of sleep, but between your nightmares, reoccuring memories and the ruckas of the soldiers, you doubted you would have slept much at all anyway.

The door to the house opened softly, followed by light footsteps as they moved behind you to stand on your left. You didn’t have to turn to see who it was, the familiar stench of cigar smoke almost made you choke. You could see Adler in your peripherals just fine, you rolled your eyes in mild annoyance. “Do you always have to wear those aviators?” You found yourself asking, as the man in question began to chuckle. You heard him sigh “No, I don’t always have to wear them”.

“Do you have to wear them at 5am in the morning?”

“I suppose not-”

“Good, because you look stupid”.

Adler laughed again, releasing a stream of smoke from his lips as he shook his head in amusement. But doing as you had somewhat suggested, Adler removed his aviators, and hooked them over one of the open buttons of his shirt. The two of you stood in silence, watching as the sky began to turn an early morning grey. Adler huffed more smoke “Did you sleep last night?” He questioned lowly, now leaning his back against the white wooden railing and turning his head towards you.

Looking at him from the corner of your eye, you merely shrugged. “I don’t sleep much, not anymore...” You replied smoothly, now wishing that you had never said anything to begin with. You focused your gaze forward again as Adler’s expression fell, he brought the cigar to his lips. You watched as the waves danced in the early morning sunlight, remembering what is was like to be at their mercy. Adler moved closer to your form, flinching slightly as he watched your hands clench into tight fists. You flexed your fingers with a small wince, a sense of pride washing over you as you examined your bruised knuckles.

“How is your jaw?”

“Fucking sore, but thanks for asking”.

You laughed. A soft, genuine laugh as you finally turned to meet Adler’s gaze. His blue hues stared down into your (eye/colour) eyes with a mixture of emotions. His lips parted slightly as he went to speak, clearing his throat awkwardly. “I know you hate me, for everything I have done to you. Nothing I do will ever make up for the amount of shit I have put you through, but you have no idea how hard it was for me to do what I had to do...” He began, his grip on his cigar tightening. “I didn’t want to kill you, I really didn’t. But Park convinced me that killing you was better than the other option-”.

“And what would the other option have been?” You interrupted, folding your arms over your chest. Adler’s jaw clenched, “Letting you go through life not knowing who you were”. You scoffed loudly, stepping away from the taller man before you as you shook your head in disbelief. “She really convinced you that killing me was better than that!? Sure, I might not have ever figured out who I was before, but what was it you said to me after Cuba? ‘The CIA re-invented me’. I could have started a new life, Adler, and you fucking took that away from me” You growled, your eyes narrowing dangerously as you practically seethed with anger.

You paused for a moment to breathe, brushing stray strands of hair from your face as the wind blew in. There was so much more you wanted to say to him, so much you wanted to curse him for.

“Last night you asked me if I regretted it. If I regretted shooting you that day...” Adler spoke softly, almost painfully as his eyes suddenly became a darker shade of blue. “I regretted it, every single goddamned day afterward. And do you want to know why? Because a part of me hoped that you were alive. After you fell I...I hoped to god that you would resurface, that you would have survived that fall. But as the days went by, I realised you weren’t coming back, and that affected me, Y/n, it really did. When Woods and Mason found heard about what I did, they left, and you have no idea how pissed off Hudson was when he found out-”

“I would say just as pissed off as when he discovered that I was the Perseus Agent willing to defect and help the CIA take him down”.

Adler froze, his eyes widening significantly. For the first time in what you assumed was a long time, Adler was speechless. He stared at you completely dumbfounded, his mouth opening and closing as he searched for something to say. “I...w-what are you-”

“A few days before the whole incident at the airstrip, I sent an enrypted message to the CIA, telling them that I was willing to cooperate and answer any questions they might have had in regards to Perseus in exchange for asylum. I guess my message didn’t reach you in time-”

“But, if you were...” Adler trailed off, once again trying to make sense of things “Why didn’t you tell us? When we found you-”

“Things got a lot more complicated when Arash shot me, I think defecting was the last thing on my mind as I lay bleeding out in that car” You finished explaining, shivering slightly at the cool breeze. Adler hadn’t said a word since you finished your long explaination. He paced back and forth, running a hand along the back of his neck as he sighed heavily. You felt yourself tremble as his gaze focused on your form, he looked at you differently.

He looked at you the same way Mason had before Cuba, with pity, sadness, and empathy. “Y/n I...I’m so sorry, if I-” “Don’t apologise...” You interrupted, shrugging your shoulders awkwardly “I’m not mad about that. Actually, I am, but that isn’t the main issue”. Adler nodded, trying to regain his composure with a long draw of his cigar. You buried your hands beneath your arms, not wanting the man before you to notice their trembling. Clearing your throat, you averted your gaze back out to sea “Did you want to talk about last night, or did you want to wait for Woods and Mason?” You asked, trying to hide the slight shakiness of your voice.

You heard Adler sigh, “Y/n, I have to call Hudson. He needs to hear everything from us, and he will no doubt want to hear everything from you”.

Your blood turned to ice, a cold shiver running down your spine at his words. Call Hudson? You felt your stomach churn uneasily, you swallowed thickly and nervously. There was no way of telling how Hudson would react, how he would-

“Y/n...” Adler spoke softly, now standing before you with his eyes searching your distant expression for anything. Something that would give him an insight into what was going on in that head of yours. You turned to face him, looking up at him sadly. “You do what you need to do. But I just-”

“I know, I’ll take care of it. You can trust me-”

“Can I? Can I trust you?”

When Adler’s expression fell, you felt a strange sense of guilt consume you. You didn’t mean to be so hesitant toward him, you didn’t mean to be careful with who you trusted. But after everything that had been done to you...after everything that had happened...

You froze as Adler moved to step around you, your body becoming rigid as something warm was draped over your shoulders. It was then that you realised you had been shaking violently, and that Adler had given you his beloved brown leather jacket. You quickly spun around to face him, managing to catch the fleeting smile he gave you. Then you knew.

Adler understood. He understood where you were coming from. That you needed time to trust him again. “Like you said last night...” He began softly, giving you a barely there smile “no more lies, no more bullshit. Take things in your own time, but I want that jacket back, got it?”. With that being said, Adler turned slowly and made his way back inside, leaving you alone on the wooden terrace. When you were sure he was gone, you wrapped Adler’s jacket around your form tightly and collapsed to your knees, crying softly as strange, compassionate feelings overtook your worry, anxiety and guilt.

When you had calmed down, you leaned back against the wooden railing, letting your head rest against the wooden slats as you breathed deeply. You tried to ignore the scent of Adler’s jacket filling your nose, a mixture of old leather combined with cigar smoke and some kind of cologne.

As the sun began to peak through the grey clouds blanketing the islands, you decided that it was best for you to head inside. You still had the matters of last night to discuss, as well as the oh so joyous anticipation of waiting for Hudson to arrive.

After changing into more comfortable and warmer clothes, you begrudgingly gave Adler back his jacket, giving him a warm smile in thanks before disappearing into the living room.

Woods and Mason were playing poker with Viktor, and losing horribly. “How the fuck did you manage to get another royal flush?” Woods complained, this his cards down atop the coffee table with an annoyed groan “I swear you’ve rigged the damn thing”. Viktor chuckled, gathering his winnings with a sly wink in your direction as you passed. “When you have played this game for as long as I have, you learn all the tricks of the trade” He responded, as Woods threw his hands out in exasperation.

You watched on from the far wall, grinning as Mason caught your gaze. He waved you over “Hey Y/n, did you want to join us?” He asked, to which you shook you head with an amused scoff. “No thanks, I would like to keep my money-” “Wuss...” Woods teased “I’ll play for you” “No, I’m good thank you, but I appreciate the offer”.

Woods groaned again as Mason laughed, while Viktor practically bled them both dry. Adler emerged from the kitchen, moving to stand by your side. “Adler, lend me some money, I need beat this old man at least once!” Woods exclaimed, gesturing towards Viktor with an extended hand. Adler shook his head “No, I’m not doing that” He replied, glaring at Woods’ obscene gesture thrown in his direction. You chuckled quietly, looking up at the man beside you with a small shrug. “How did you go?” You asked, not liking the way his gaze fell. He huffed “Hudson has a few things to take care of in Washington before he gets here, but he plans on arriving sometime tonight”.

“Well, I guess we can’t really do anything until we inform him of what is going on then?”.

“We can prepare what we are going to say? Combine our knowledge”.

You nodded hesitantly “I really don’t know much. But whatever those soldiers were doing up there is in relation to something called Operation Hyrda”. The entire living room fell silent, as all eyes now focused on you. “Operation Hydra? What the hell is that?” Mason asked, his eyes narrowing in confusion. You sighed “From what I’ve remembered, Operation Hydra is a failsafe for Operation Greenlight. Reading that name back in that bunker triggered something. All I know so far, is that Perseus and I are the only ones who know of the failsafe”.

“And because we brainwashed you, you can’t remember what this Operation Hyrda entails” Adler interrupted, his eyes remaining trained on your smaller form. You nodded as Adler cursed, cringing at his dangerous tone “I’m trying to remember, if that helps-”

“I know you are, we’ll figure it out” Adler spoke distantly, before once again disappearing back into the kitchen. You sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of your nose with a groan. If only you could remember something, even if it was small. Every little detail counted right? A gentle hand was placed on your shoulder, causing you to flinch as your eyes lifted to meet the warm expression of Mason. “Hey, don’t beat yourself up about this...” He soothed “it’s not your fault you can’t remember”.

“I know, but knowing that I’m missing something important is just...” You paused, breathing deeply in through your nose and out through your mouth “I feel so fucking useless”.

“You might feel like that now, but it won’t always be like this...” Woods spoke solemnly from his position on the couch. “Sure, it might take you a while to remember things, but you will get there. Just don’t be so hard on yourself, alright?”. You nodded slowly, allowing his words to sink in. Though Woods did have a point, you couldn’t help but feel like a burden to the team.

As your lips parted to respond, there was a sharp knock at the door. Your head tilted to the side in confusion, your gaze meeting Woods and Masons’ who wore similar expressions. Adler emerged from the kitchen, carefully moving past you and Mason towards the front of the door. You waited anxiously as two voices echoed down into the living room. As footsteps approached, your body became rigid as Adler moved past you to stand on the other side of the room, followed by a woman you knew all too well.

Her midnight hair was slightly longer, but her brown eyes widened upon landing on your form before her expression hardened. All you could do was glare at Park, as she stood in the doorway to the living room.

Tag List: @pookolokon @travelllar @basicwhiteasian @shellshockedbell @inteligentecat @staryozora @lovinggooppalacebanana @ktdragonborn @quietblogs-2-rd @cerezi @alluringartangels

#russell adler x reader #russell adler #russell adler imagine #call of duty x reader #call of duty #call of duty imagine #call of duty black ops #call of duty cold war #call of duty black ops cold war

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ashxketchum · 3 years

Text

Writer’s Month - 2

Wow, not me writing something for two days in a row? This one is a stand-alone oneshot for now, but I think there is a lot of potential for a sequel, I even have some part of it clearly planned out so if time allows me to sit down with my laptop sooner than later, I’ll work on that!

Fandom/Pairing: Digimon/Mimato (friendship, yes I am capable of writing something other than romance between these two hahahaaa)

Prompt: Coffee shop setting, cold (Yamato is very cold here, it’s actually kinda angsty)

Setting: Post Tri but pre Kizuna. Yamato is in his first year of college and Mimi is in her last year of high school. The basis for this fic is solely the dialogue in To Sora, I wanted to explore the idea of Mimi and Yamato growing closer and having important conversations with each other, but it had to have a rocky start and this is that rocky start!

“I’ll have a venti matcha berry frappe, nonfat, refrigerated chilled milk, absolutely no ice, extra whipped cream, which, make sure, is layered perfectly, with three pumps of caramel syrup and two of vanilla.”

He could feel his manager’s eyes boring into his back, so Yamato did what any other good employee in his place would, he kept a straight face and diligently noted down the customer’s request before moving on to ringing it up without once bothering to look at the girl standing behind the counter or ask for her name. He wondered if his manager would find it strange, that he hadn’t taken the customer’s name, but seeing as Yamato was already putting all his effort into concentrating well on his job and not explode on the brunette who seemed to take some pleasure out of his misery, he decided that he was allowed this one slip and he’d deal with his manager later, since the bigger problem was in front of him, eyeing him with a teasing glint in her caramel eyes as he picked up the paper cup and moved over to the work station to begin working on her order. He did however, kept a track of what his manager was doing from the corner of his eye, and the minute the older man was out of sight, Yamato breathed a sigh of relief and spun on his feet.

“Please Mimi, by all means, go ahead and make my job more difficult.” Yamato seethed, managing to keep his voice low so as to not attract any attention to them.

“Well, if you’re going to ask that nicely.” Mimi smirked, as always she had the upper hand in the conversation due to the safety guaranteed by being a customer at the shop.

“Just take the drink and go, let me work in peace.” Yamato attempted to maintain a superior tone as he begged her to leave, turning again to add the finishing touches to her order as quickly as he could, before his superior caught whiff of his not so welcoming attitude towards their customers.

“Now where’s the fun in that?” Mimi beamed at him, as she accepted the finished product from his hand, her fingers brushed against his for a brief moment, suddenly making Yamato hyper aware of the spot at the back of his hand.

“Don’t you have anything better to do? Entrance exams to worry about?” He asked exasperatedly, she seemed too carefree for someone who was in the last year of their high school, remembering his own experience of it from the previous year.

Mimi scoffed in reply, waving a hand in the air to brush aside his concern for her education, instead of turning to make her way out of the store now that she had received her order, she settled on the empty bar stool on the other side of the pick-up counter, resting one elbow on the counter top as she took careful sips of her drink from the other hand. He watched her like a hawk, Yamato wouldn’t put it past the brunette to make fake claims about the taste of the drink just to get him into trouble.

This had been going on for a few months now, every time he had a shift during her after school hours, Mimi would make it her life’s purpose to show up and annoy him to no extent. He’d attempted to explain to her, that he really needed to keep this job to maintain his life expenses, but apparently the pleasure she took from watching him stumble around while making coffee seemed to take precedent over his livelihood.

Of course, Mimi wasn’t the only one to blame here, if only his roommate at the college dorm wasn’t a bigger pain in the ass, Yamato would never had have to take up this part-time job in the first place. When he had complained to his father about not being able to get along well with his roomie, instead of agreeing to raise his monthly allowance so that Yamato could move out and rent a place of his own, his father had promptly told him that as an adult, he should learn to solve his own problems from now on. Yamato had half a mind to remind his father that him and his friends had not only solved the Digital World’s problems on multiple occasions, but also saved their own world by doing so, but he had stayed quiet and accepted his fate. On Takeru’s recommendation he had taken up a part-time job at this popular coffee joint, the pay was decent and the hours weren’t too bad and well Yamato always had had a knack for being good in the kitchen, so it had been suiting his purposes of saving up to move out of the college dorm as soon as possible just well.

Until Mimi happened to walk in one day and decided to take matters into her own hands.

She had been surprised to see him behind the counter, and at first she had just been curious, about what he was doing here or what he had been up to since the graduation ceremony. Yamato had to admit, that ever since he had graduated high school, he’d finally understood what Jou had been struggling with for the longest time, it wasn’t easy to maintain friendships when one was thrust with the responsibility of taking care of every single aspect of their lives and somehow pursue studies on which one’s future life depended at the same time. He considered himself lucky, if he was able to have a phone conversation with Takeru that lasted more than 5 minutes in a day. So he hadn’t been wary of Mimi popping up every now and them, updating him about her and Koushiro’s school life, and sometimes Jou’s and Sora’s too. It gave him a way to stay connected with everyone without having to make time for them, and while he did feel guilty about this on multiple occasions, he was grateful for it too.

That was before Mimi got bored with just talking about their lives, and decided to spice up their encounters by getting him to light trouble with his manager. It was usually just silly little things like claiming he got her order wrong or giving extremely complicated and hard to follow requests, and she had never pulled something huge that would seriously get Yamato in trouble, but it was still frustrating and it ruined his mojo for the rest of his shift.

There was also the question of why Mimi had suddenly taken such a liking to spending time with him, of all people, since they had never been close enough for a relationship like this. They’d spent time together before sure, and they’d had their fair share of agreements and disagreements when it came to matters related to the Digital World, but apart from that Yamato could barely remember any interactions with her that didn’t circle back to the Digital World or their Digimon Partners. So the thought always nagged at him, at the back of his head, when she would appear with a skip in her step and fix him with one of the brightest smiles he knew.

But then she would go on to do something diabolical, and he’d be reminded of how similar she was to his little brother, which led to him missing Takeru and left him irritated and wishing for her to leave.

Pulling himself out of his thoughts, Yamato turned his attention towards the brunette sitting in front of him, she had set down the drink on the counter top and was currently surveying the store with her bright eyes, the mischievous glint in them indicating that she was just looking for something that could serve as prop of the day in interfering with his work. Relieved that he had caught her while she was still in her planning phase, Yamato decided to take control of the situation before his manager returned and reprimanded him for being rude to their customers.

“You really don’t have anything better to do?” Yamato began icily, making Mimi turn her gaze towards him, the challenging look on her face seemed to put the last nail to his patience’s coffin as he snapped at her, “Don’t you have any friends?”

He regretted it the minute those words left his mouth, biting his tongue in an attempt to stop himself from groaning outwardly.

The effect on Mimi was immediate, all colour drained from her face and her eyes shone with a blanket of tears just waiting to fall, but with a single blink she managed to keep them at bay and faced him with a hardened look as she replied quietly, “I thought that’s what we were.”

And before Yamato could make any attempts to take back his statements or even begin to apologize for his behaviour, Mimi was out of the door, leaving behind her drink on the counter and without sparing a single glance in his direction.

Yamato allowed himself to groan out loud when he picked up her cup to clear the counter and found that it was still heavy, she had barely begun to drink it. He couldn’t help but chide himself internally, for missing on something that was so obvious, for even deliberating on an answer that was right in front of his eyes this entire time.

Yamato couldn’t believe that he, of all people, had missed out on the signs of their budding friendship, had pushed it aside as nothing but an occasional nuisance within his routine.

His optimistic side hoped that he would just explain himself to her when she’d show up tomorrow, even offer her her favourite drink for free as a token of his apology, but a tiny voice at the back of his head reminded him, that there was no way Mimi would come back to spend time with him after this.

Unfortunately, it was the tiny voice that prevailed in its prediction, as Mimi didn’t show the next day or the one after that, or after that.

At first Yamato consoled himself by devoting himself to the tasks at hand, happy to finally be able concentrate on his work, he managed to win praises from his manager on multiple occasions which pushed Mimi’s absence from his surroundings out of his head, and for a while it worked.

But then there were slow days, when he didn’t have much to do but stand behind the counter and look at all the people sitting around in groups of twos and threes, laughing and chatting loudly as they sipped their coffees and munched on their food. The sight would tug on an invisible string in his heart, make him long for Mimi’s teasing smile as she rattled off with an order comprising of the most incompatible ingredients, laughing loudly at the look of horror that would take over his face as he wrote down her instructions. There were days when the shop would be eerily silent, and he’d hear her voice in his head, telling him about something that had happened at school. There were days when someone would walk by with a pet, cuddling it and showering it with affection, making him miss Gabumon’s soft fur and he’d instinctively turn towards the pick-up counter, hoping to tell Mimi about it but was met with emptiness instead.

He hadn’t realised, just how much he had managed to share with her during their encounters, and how he had begun to depend on her company to get him through his mundane work life. And in true Yamato fashion, he had gone ahead and messed it all up by thinking about things from only his perspective.

His father’s words echoed in his mind once again, he had to learn to solve his own problems, and what better time to start than now?

#writersmonth2021 #mimato #digimon fanfiction #yamato ishida #mimi tachikawa #digimon #writealot #unfinished excerpt #I wanna write the apology scene for sure #coming up with Mimi's frappe order was hella fun tho #otp : purely friendly

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vampiresuns · 3 years

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First Love, Late Spring | Asra x Milenko

☽ FIRST LOVE, LATE SPRING ☽

1k words. Written for day 1 of Asra Week, 2021: “Celebration”. In which Milenko is a fool in love.

This is set 8 years before the game, so Milenko is in his very early 20s.

You can find the rest of Asra’s and Milenko’s pre-game canon, ‘Like Thirst Holds Water’, here.

No cws apply.

Come spring, Vesuvia dressed herself with music and colours to celebrate the end of winter. September came with blooming flowers and cool breezes, the streets lighting up with lanterns and music. Milenko watched Asra dance with Anatole, a forlorn smile on his face. His cousin and his friend were hand in hand, spinning and turning and laughing.

Milenko never felt left behind by Anatole per se, ever. Thinking it alone would be a disservice to his cousin and, perhaps, one of the few people who understood him when no one else seemed to be able to. He had always thought Anatole touched the lives of people around him with more ease than he gave himself credit for, and Asra was an example of that. Anatole wanted to know the world so he could master his own life, Asra was always curious and learning new things and hobbies, finding ways to occupy the hours. It was a good combination: Anatole tapped into Asra’s potential but Milenko saw Asra’s loneliness, clear as a stream that runs from the melted ice of the mountains.

No wonder he clung to Anatole like he was the sun.

Milenko sighed. He could write epics about the light dancing in Asra’s amethyst eyes, like the colour of a dry wine which gathered friends around the table. How his hair curling like the ripples in the water, after Milenko was finally dropped into it, letting the water engulf him.

He could, but he won’t. Even if it was a little disappointing to not have his attention.

He didn’t notice the magician sitting down beside him, flushed cheeks and all.

“Where’s Toly?”

“I’ve never seen you sit alone,” Asra said instead, “are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah, yeah I am. I was just watching you dance.”

“Oh,” Asra said, the flush on his cheeks now expanding to his ears. “Uh, Nana went to grab some water, I think.”

Asra was lying, not that Milenko could tell. Anatole had caught Asra looking at Milenko out of the corner of his eye, had smacked his head, rolled his eyes and had sent the magician to talk to him. Asra thought he was being subtle, but Anatole was hard to fool. Asra had no idea what Anatole set off for, but admitting the truth as it was, was a little embarrassing.

They fell into conversation, Milenko leaving Asra’s question unanswered without meaning to. They were in their own bubble as they tuned out everything but their voices, the background noise like falling snow around them.

Asra repeated his question catching Milenko by surprise.

“I always thought you liked to dance,” Asra said.

“I do! I love dancing!” Milenko was more enthusiastic than he intended, his own nerves bubbling past his lips. “I was watching you, that’s all.”

Asra looked like he was about to vomit his own internal organs, his voice barely a whisper when he spoke.

“Watching me?”

Milenko had one leg crossed over the other, his ankle resting on his opposite knee. He wrapped his hand around his own calf, his fingers squeezing what little fabric was there to squeeze, given the tightness of his pants. “Yeah… you. You move like water, it’s very hard not to stare. I’ve heard people say water finds the path of less resistance, but I don’t think that’s true. I think water finds a way.”

Asra moved his hand to rest it over Milenko’s knee, but Milenko spoke again, and he stopped. “Like light. Light and water are good compliments.”

The silence was heavy between them, the background noise that before was almost imperceptible, now loud and present around them. Milenko was holding his breath as Asra stared at him blankly, his eyes moving around, scanning for nothing in particular as he tried to piece his thoughts together, not understanding what Milenko was trying to tell him.

When the aspiring poet felt the silence to be oppressive he spoke again, blurting his words out.

“I mean it’s okay if you don’t feel that way about me, I mean it. No hard feelings, Anatole is a very fine person to have feelings for, and he deserves to have someone as good as you wanting to give him their attention.”

“Milenko…” Asra said, wincing a little and with concern etched all over his face.

“Asra, I mean it—”

Instead of letting him finish, the magician took Milenko’s hands in his, prying them away from the place they rested, squeezing them between his hands as he looked at Milenko with an intensity that made him swallow his words.

“Milan, I do have feelings for Nana: feelings of friendship and gratitude, but it’s not, it’s not like that, and I need you to know it’s not like that.”

Now Milenko was the one who looked at him unable to understand.

“What I’m trying to say is I like you too.”

Asra spoke fast, nervous, with urgency, consumed by the fear that Milenko would get the wrong idea and slip away from him. It was fine if he did, there was a flowing freedom to Milenko that made him enchanting and easy to be around; his joy was liberating, contagious. It made Asra want to open his heart so Milenko might live there and never inhabit another.

Admitting his feelings was terrifying, but it was less terrifying than Milenko walking away because Asra didn’t even try. However, now that Milenko was the one looking at loss and falling silent, Asra began thinking he must have misunderstood his words. Had he been brave for no reason? Perhaps he had to stop listening to Anatole and his also contagious hope that bordered spite. Perhaps he shouldn’t have had this conversation in the middle of a festivity. Perhaps—

Perhaps it didn’t matter. Perhaps it would all be okay because Milenko leaned into Asra’s space softly, giving him the opportunity to stop him if he needed. He took his face in his hands with the same gentleness someone cupped a wildflower that was precious to them, or fresh water amid a journey. To Asra’s growing surprise, Milenko kissed both of his eyelids, before resting his forehead against Asra’s and guiding his hand over his heart.

It was easy to find it, Milenko didn’t know what buttoning his shirts was, so Asra found himself curling his fingers over Milenko’s warm skin, his heart beating frantically inside his chest and against his palm. After asking for permission, Milenko kissed his lips.

Maybe it would all be alright.

#the arcana #my writing #arcana oc #the arcana oc #the arcana asra #asra the arcana #asra #asra alnazar #milenko #milasra #asraweek2021 #the heart line is a poem reference to ibn hazm #also yes spring is september according to what the seasons should actually be in Vesuvia but the devs are cowards who commercialise for #the northern hemisphere alone #like thirst holds water

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i-did-not-mean-to · 3 years

Text

Black - Chapter 10

Here's a chapter that was exceedingly fun to write. I hope you enjoy it :D

@legolasbadass I have officially tagged you in something, now, go back to writing 😂

Fandom: The Hobbit

Characters : Thorin x OC, the rest, special mention for Dwalin being a cutie

Words: 5,5 k

Rating: Mature

Warnings: blood, reference to bodily harm, reference to God, ALSO: I am a drama queen *shrug*

“I think you are being unreasonable.” Faith shook her head at him. “Who? Uncle?” Kíli sauntered up to them, bowing crisply to her and adding: “I came to check on you, but I see our own dragon is guarding you jealously.”

“Get dressed, woman, if that one is here, the others are not far behind.” Thorin grumbled and blocked the view of his much too curious nephew while Faith was huddled in the corner of her room, slipping into her chemise and an old rough spun dress she had found in the pile of clothes that were left to her.

Faith had to admit that Thorin might have been right when other dwarrows presented themselves as well in front of her door, “to check on her” as if she was as sickly kitten. “Dori sends me with tea.” Ori mumbled, holding a literal pot of tea in his gloved hands.

“That is ever so kind.” Faith smiled, pouring the rest of her wine back into the carafe and extending the mug to the sweet dwarrow hovering just outside her door. Apparently, there was indeed something unseemly about crossing the threshold of an unmarried woman as an unmarried man. She wondered if that would have been the same if the townspeople of her home had lived. As it was, she would never know, but there was something quite touching in the pile-up of dwarrows outside her room.

“Oh, you’re holding court like a real queen. What is uncle unreasonable about?” Kíli silenced the others by almost screaming.

“Mistress Faith was on her way to bed when you barged in like a fool.” Thorin muttered, obviously in a cantankerous mood.

“She was not, she was berating you!” Kíli replied petulantly. “I don’t think your uncle, the king, should be camped outside of my door.” Faith intervened with an explanation.

“Why don’t you just bolt the door?” The lad asked, scratching his head. When she explained that she couldn’t open the door on her own and that she didn’t like feeling locked in, he gave his uncle a short nod and shrugged: “In that case, uncle is not being unreasonable at all. Let me know if you want company, I can sit with you.”

Faith was speechless. “You are a guest, and we’ll keep you safe.” Kíli said with an easy smile.

“I am safe.” Faith protested. “You are now because you have uncle outside your door. And us.” Kíli winked at her with that youthful pride and confidence that made her heart swell. Oh, bless that kid, she thought, may the stars align for him and bring him endless happiness.

“There you are!” Dwalin came barrelling down the corridor. “Me?” She was taken aback and tiny bit startled.

“No, not you, Mistress. That oaf, the king.” Dwalin nodded to her with what might have been a smile, Faith was not entirely sure and conversed in low, murmured words with Thorin. Faith just sat and listened to the sound of it, weirdly calmed and comforted by the rough elegance of their very own, secret language.

“Mistress Faith? Ah, there comes Fíli.” Faith scrambled to her feet and curtsied for the heir to the throne who presented her with a small cake. “We apologise humbly for having led you astray and for risking your good name. And for annoying you about uncle, we didn’t tell mother everything, but she was not happy either way.” The prince laughed. Faith was impressed by how resolutely and soberly he admitted fault and tried to redress his potential missteps; she understood that their social life had been an unsteady and uncertain thing and that it had been a priority to make them valuable fighters rather than charming courtiers.

Nonetheless, she admired them for their light-hearted honesty as much as for their supposed prowess.

“You’ve given us sweets and now, we give you cake. That makes us friends, doesn’t it? Ah, I see Dori has sent his little brother with that disheartening brew of his.” Fíli declared, commenting casually on the scene he had stumbled upon. Amongst humans, this would have been a childish thing to say, Faith thought, but she realised that he extended an invitation to her, and she was thankful for it. As she was a stranger in their realm, the declaration of a bond between them would protect her, shield her, most probably keep her alive against all odds. It was easy to see them as children as they were the nephews of a man she called a friend, but their lives stretched far into the past and hopefully would extend into a distant future, and already, they knew more than she would ever learn.

With another curtsy, she acknowledged the gracious offer of his friendship and the privileges it brought. “Thank you, dear prince I would be honoured to accept both the cake and your good graces.” He gave her an answering bow that sealed the deal.

If they knew what scandalous actions she had been engaged in only moments ago, Faith thought, they would probably not be that courteous to her. The idea of losing their affection stung, which surprised her, but the idea of losing them, period, turned out to be utterly unbearable to her. Her mind shrank back from the mere thought as from an open, festering wound.

She had been alone most of her life, but the mere contemplation of never seeing the creatures in front of her again filled her with dread and a nameless pain that choked the light out of her heart. For their own people and their culture, they were young still and she couldn’t bear the thought of having such promising torches snuffed out before their time. Would that she could live another hundred years to see their mischief soften to quiet humour, to see them take wives and father children, to be their friend through the different stages of a dwarven life.

The limitations of her own body and life constricted her soul, crushing it to dust, and she wanted to rail against the injustice of being given a glimpse of perfection only to have it snatched away too soon by the ravage of time. No, she thought, she would be thankful to be granted that precious peek; she would be grateful to have known what others only dreamt of and she would treasure those memories and all she had seen until her eyes saw no more.

“Thank you ever so much.” Faith mumbled again, feeling the effects of the half-glass of wine she had drunk and wondering if the dwarrows could eat all the time. She had had more than her fill at the dinner, but she dutifully bit into her cake which was sweet and surprisingly moist.

“Do you like it?” Kíli asked eagerly. “It is like everything else of dwarven make I have experienced.” Faith grinned.

“Bulky, heavy and smelling kind of weird?” Thorin prompted, much to Faith’s chagrin; she had not noticed that he had finished his conversation with his friend. Maybe, she had been wrong and dwarven mischief never really abated, maybe, they just learned to hide their wicked humour under longer beards in time. “Beautiful, compact, and delicious.” She gave him a brazen look full of dancing sparks; she liked bandying words with Thorin almost as much as she liked being kissed by him.

“Delicious, ey?” Dwalin laughed, clapping his king on the shoulder, and promising to come back later to relieve Thorin in his guard-duties. Oh, this was absurd, Faith rolled her eyes, she didn’t need two prime fighters in front of her door.

She had trekked through wind and weather; she had tackled a man with a knife and had chased away another one; she could take care of herself. It seemed though as if Thorin had been mostly correct: if they had lingered in her room, someone would have come looking for them and she might have lost a name that was worth more in this settlement than it ever had before.

She was half a savage, she realised, unused to the social conventions and rules of a society. As a maiden, she should have waited for a husband to give up this most sacrosanct of female gifts, but she was past the marrying age, and she was not overly fond of the idea of dying a virgin.

It was highly improbable that she would ever be anything else than a concubine to anyone and much more believable that she’d end up taken by force…hence the armed king outside her door. He had saved her once from rape and violence, and Faith did not doubt that he would do it again without hesitating.

Until he left.

Looking at the young princes, Faith realised that she felt safe here. She had stopped looking over her shoulder and hence, had let down her guard too much; all these lovely people would go on a perilous journey, and she would be left to her own devices. Maybe, she would have to heed the king’s advice after all and learn to be demure and discreet again.

That would be a whole lot easier once his startling beauty was removed and she could breathe again without getting a whiff of that intoxicating smell. How far would he have to be removed for her to no longer feel tethered to his steps?

She would miss him. His presence had become solace and home to her, a place to rest, a warmth to sustain her, and she would feel more vulnerable with him gone than ever before. Oh, another painful thought she didn’t want to pursue in this moment.

“We should let you get to bed. Just scream if anything is the matter and enjoy the cake.” The youngsters ambled away in high spirits, mocking Ori and his teapot and squabbling about the last cake. She would miss them too; like everything she had experienced in this wondrous place, they were a curious blend of beauty – light, colour, and laughter – and strength – honour, courage, and faith. Yes, she could say that she was fond of them and that she would be looking forward to seeing them again; there was just no way to dislike their open-hearted…fierceness. They were striving towards a brighter future with such zeal and indefatigable energy that Faith was pulled along despite her own reservations.

“Can I offer you a piece, my king?” Faith sat down again on her side of the doorframe, offering the baked good to Thorin.

“Ah, yes, I won’t say “no” to that.” He nodded, breaking off a piece and shoving it into his mouth, crumbs raining down on his tunic which she brushed away casually, amused to find that the king had a sweet tooth. His hand closed around her wrist.

“I am sorry, Faith, this…it was a mess. I…” He sighed. “I want to do this right…”

Oh, how could she have forgotten? While she was obsessing about her own death as if she was a crone already, she had forgotten that he had seen decades more than her; the time for his retribution had come and, of course, he didn’t want more loose ends and false starts to burden him.

“I will make it right; I will…” His eyes had softened to a mesmerizing dark blue in the low light, intense and captivating.

Now that the fire in her veins had dulled into a sensuous warmth, a steady flow of earnest affection and deep longing, she could put aside the wounds her vanity had sustained and mumble: “Oh, you king of second chances, I am sure you will.”

“Have faith in me, sweet one, I will make good on my word.” – “I shall not be another burden on your shoulders, Thorin-king.” She protested softly, putting her hand lightly on top of his.

“You are not, neither are they.” He waved in the general direction in which his nephews had disappeared. “I will succeed where others have failed, because of all of you. I will bring you home: my sister, my nephews, my friends…you. I swear.”

The intensity of his gaze and of his determination sent shivers down Faith’s spine.

She was a woman without a history and, probably, without a future, but she could recognise the weight of his ancestors’ failures, of his people’s suffering, and of his own ambition bear down on him inexorably.

“Rest, sweet king, you have done me no wrong.” She reassured him. “Have I not?” His eyes narrowed, suspecting a subterfuge or a trick. “You are a stubborn but very honourable fool, and I am glad that you convinced me to come here.” She grinned.

“So, you like it here? You’ll like Erebor then. It’s full of gold.” He smiled. “You and your gold!” She laughed.

“It’s full of beautiful things.” He tried again. “It shall be, yeah.” She chuckled, bumping her shoulder gently into his.

“You…I wanted to say that I feel honoured that you’d…consider me for…” He nodded at the empty room behind her, which made her giggle again; he really was too upstanding to be real.

“You are the single most beautiful living thing I’ve ever beheld in my life. You’re kind, generous, and brave. I am sorry if I made you uncomfortable; I see now that there are rules to be followed and I did not mean any disrespect.”

Thorin seemed to ponder her words for a while before nodding: “Yes, I guess that is true…I know that you are physically incapable of wilfully disrespecting anyone or anything almost, so no problem.”

“What are the rules, Thorin-king?” She had caught a glimmer in his eye that disquieted her considerably.

He looked purposefully away for a moment and then mumbled into his beard: “I’d court you and then…”

“What would you quarter me for? In that case, I do see why you think intercourse would be dangerous.” Faith hissed, aghast.

“Court you, not quarter you. Who do you think I am?” Thorin exclaimed, lowering his voice immediately.

“I am sorry that I do not have your sister’s supersonic hearing.” Faith grumbled, but she had to laugh when she saw his dumbfounded face. “Oh, Dís, she was born like that. It’s because she loves information that much. I call it information…”

He made a face.

“She sounds like a valuable councillor then, wouldn’t you say?” Faith teased him. “Kíli gets it from her, that wicked sense of humour and that…” His voice softened, “She has a fierce heart, my sister does, stay close to Dís, she’ll keep you safe.”

Faith believed him, but she wondered how he could be so sure.

“My sister loves me as I love her, you are my friend, you are her sons’ friend…She won’t let anything happen to you.”

“I don’t want to be a burden on the princess either.” Faith protested, flustered by the finality in his voice.

Thorin took her hand and murmured: “Can you do two things for me, please? One, go to bed, otherwise I will have to kiss you again and we have seen that it generally ends in…frustration; and two, promise that you’ll stay with Dís.”

Throwing a quick glance down the corridors, Faith stuck out her head of the doorframe and pressed a single, warm, lingering kiss on his stubborn mouth and whispered: “I swear to stick to the princess…and lay down my life if necessary for her protection.”

Mahal have mercy, Thorin thought, the two women he cared for most would try to die in protection of one another at the slightest provocation; they were both fiercely loyal and brave in their own way. Devoted and self-forgotten, Faith had no regard for her own fragile life that seemed to be entirely made up of service while Dís had ever been a pugnacious dwarrowdam who would not avoid a fight if she thought she could win. Dís always thought she could win. She was his sister, after all.

“Good night, king of kings.” She whispered, flipping one of his braids playfully over his shoulder and scrambling to get to her feet. Thorin watched her go, taking off her dress again as she went, and cursed himself for being such a fool.

As she slipped between the sheets though, Faith stiffened and cried out: “Wait a minute…what do you mean by court?”

It had taken some time for his words to sink in, but again, all her fatigue evaded her within a second.

“Well, courting gifts, braids, walking around with your hand in mine…more intrusive questions by my nephews, more teasing by my sister…” He enumerated and ticked off the fingers of his hand.

Marriage, Faith thought, that was what it all led up to. Courting led to weddings, in general, and she would not marry Thorin Oakenshield, king of the Longbeards, not if the almighty creator himself did not come down and grant her a life long enough to honour the bond she would enter into, and a blood worthy of his. Falling back hard into her pillow, she resisted the urge of burying her head in it and asphyxiating herself out of pure impatience and annoyance with the situation.

Then again, the idea of having his nephews and his sister, and ultimately of course him, around until her forever came, held such a sweet seduction that it tore her heart apart. The intensity of her longing made it very clear to her that she was reaching for forbidden fruit indeed. She rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling that started to swim and swirl in front of her eyes.

“Sleep, sweet one, tomorrow is another day. There will be time for you to decide if that is something you’d want.”

Oh, naturally, he would be a perfectly honourable man about that as well, Faith thought with something akin to disdain almost; while she fretted and fussed, he would offer his courtship and she would have the right to deny it.

Would he understand her reasons when she finally did reject his promise of tender and respectful advances? Or would he feel as miserably unsatisfied as she did now?

Again, she tried to remind herself of the fact that he did not care for her in that way. She had promised him her body and he was looking to find some justification for taking it; a man such as him would not simply despoil a woman because he felt like it, no, he would create the pretence of a mock courtship to explain why he had taken what he could never give back.

Time would tell. Time, her constant enemy, the shadow gnawing mercilessly on her hours in the sun, would decide if she ever got an answer to those questions.

“You can tell me sooner of course.” Thorin mumbled and she sat up in bed, her blanket a tangled mess around her legs.

“It is a discussion for another day, surely.” She replied calmly, falling back to hide her face and its expression from him.

“Are you very cross with me, Faith?” He asked then.

“Not in the least, Thorin.” She decided against a title, knowing that it would make him believe that she was indeed angry when, really, she was confused and considerably hurt by everything that had happened tonight and by the fears that swirled in her head and heart without surcease. “Good, I couldn’t bear to disappoint you as well.”

“What are you talking about?” Again, she shot up to stare at him in dumbfounded amazement. “I will do right by all of you.” He vowed anew and Faith wondered if he always took his own trespasses so seriously; of course, he would.

“Good night, Master Dwarf. I care for you, and you are beautiful.” She repeated the most important things of the evening, swallowing her rejection of his courtship and falling into a fitful sleep, constantly disturbed by her body that was as taut as a twisted piece of wire. Every time her thighs touched, a spark of pure agony shot through her limbs, a feeling she knew would subside but that made her intensely miserable, nonetheless.

“How’s the little lady?” Dwalin clunked down the corridor and was forced to sneak the last stretch so as not to awaken Faith.

Thorin loved his friend, but he would not tell him how he had spent the last hours listening to Faith mumble and moan in her sleep; more than once, she had whimpered his name and he had been sorely tempted to take off his clothes again and slip between the covers with her.

Somewhere between her body and the mattress lay heaven, he knew, and her soft groaning had worn out his soul and chafed his skin raw with desire.

“She’s not a little lady.” Thorin grumbled. No, Faith was fearless when it came to actual danger; despite her innate subservience and her sweet temper, she was a fierce woman he was honoured and happy to call his friend.

“You’re thinking about courting her, aren’t you?” – “If she’ll have me.” Thorin didn’t even try denying it.

Dwalin had his doubts about that; Faith seemed fond enough of their mutual friend, of their common king, but could she find that kind of love inside herself for someone who was not of her own race? Friendships were indiscriminate; they were based on mutual respect and understanding, but marriage followed a set of rules much stricter and more severe.

It was also probable that she’d die before him, but he was not exactly a young dwarf and they had years ahead of them that could be spent in happy union; if he lived, if she agreed. Did she know that? Would she want that?

“She’s very…kind.” Dwalin said carefully, for she had been nothing but nice to him despite the fact that even dwarrowdams had told him before that he looked like a raincloud pickled in vinegar and left to dry on a stony cliff. “She is.” Thorin agreed.

“What is with the door?” Dwalin then asked and nodded at the huddled form in the bed he could make out in the penumbra. “She can’t open it on her own.” Thorin explained and then, the epiphany hit him: he would not wait for his return or her joining him; he would start his tentative courting with the very basic gift of an appropriate door.

“I…I have something to do. Please do not turn around under any circumstance and tell Mistress Faith that I’ll find her as soon as I’m done.” Thorin spluttered hastily and, boots in hand, almost ran down the corridor in search of a carpenter.

He would have a door made that she could easily open and close herself, but he would make sure that it was sturdy, fashioning and applying the bolts himself. Would that this blasted wizard was around to help imbue the very slab of wood with spells for her protection. Yes, he would convince her of his deep affection for her in the only way he knew: hard work and presents.

Faith woke up to the broad back of Master Dwalin completely obscuring the doorframe.

“The king is…doing something and he’ll find you as soon as he has finished…doing whatever he is doing.” The dwarrow grunted as a reply to her cheery greeting.

Slipping back into her simple shift, Faith approached the stolid figure and tapped him on the shoulder. “Would you be so good as to let me out?” He shifted aside and let her pass, but as she took a step, he followed her.

“I’d rather keep an eye on you.” He muttered, a low, rumbling sound that she very much enjoyed. “You are a dear man, Master Dwalin.” She chirped and nodded slowly.

“Hmmm, me? Hmmm, thank you, Mistress Faith.”

If she had been a braver woman when it came to social conventions, Faith might have asked to hug him, but as it was, she didn’t dare presume. “You’re a funny little creature as well.” He chuckled after a moment which made her turn around in surprise.

“Where are we going?” He cocked his head. “First to get you some breakfast and then to the river, if that is agreeable to you.” She replied gently. As he was intent on shadowing her, she had to think of his well-being as much as he seemed to worry about hers; so, off to the kitchens they went in search of a fortifying meal for the big warrior.

While Dwalin was still munching noisily on his breakfast, Faith was already kneeling beside the river, digging her hands deep into the soil, and filtering out the clay in meticulous steps until she had a sizeable ball. Her guardian watched her work tirelessly, fascinated by her steady, soft movements. Thorin was right, he thought, she was a creature of mud.

Even though the king himself was, in this moment, hammering steel with ringing force, there was a parallel to be drawn between the rhythmic, almost dance-like movements both of them were performing to create something new. For one another, if Dwalin wasn’t very much mistaken.

“I’d ask the kitchens if you can use one of their ovens rather than the open fire of the furnace.” He commented when Faith started moulding and twisting her ball of clay into shapes. “It will be quicker and gentler on your creations.”

Faith nodded when a glint in the water caught her eye. A beautiful, iridescent pebble, smooth and shiny was sitting right next to a single coin. She knew not if it had been caught in the folds of her dress or if someone else had lost it in the river, but she took it to be a good omen for her sacrifice to find things so beautiful to add to her offering.

“Off to the kitchens we go again then, Master Dwalin.” She smiled, heaping her work into his broad palms and chuckling to herself as she watched him hold them carefully in his hands while he walked gingerly ahead of her. He was a dear fellow…and another soul to miss bitterly.

“Come quick, uncle.” Thorin looked up from the bolt he had been fitting on the wooden door meant for Faith’s room in surprise. “You have to see that.” Fíli, his nephew, his heir, was waving him along urgently and so he followed without taking the time to cross-examine the lad on the motivation for his peculiar behaviour.

As soon as they arrived at the side of his dear sister, Thorin could understand where the excitement came from. Faith was kneeling in front of a tree hugging the mountainside, laying out the earthen dishes she had made with her own hands this morning.

“Uncle.” Kíli yelped, just arriving, upon seeing Faith pull out a knife and slashing open her arm once again, letting her blood drip into one of the shallow vessels slowly. “Let her be.” Thorin muttered, closing his hand around his nephew’s wrist to restrain him.

“I come to you, oh great creator, guide of my steps, in prayer.” Faith started, touching her forehead to the ground.

“But, I come not for myself. I come to pray for the safe passage and blessed return of Thorin Oakenshield and his company.” Again, she bowed down, then lifting her bloodied hands to the sky and pleading:

“You who have many faces, allow me to address those I have known all my life without ever speaking their name. I have been told that the one Thorin calls Mahal and we may call “crafting face of the creator” has hewn the dwarrows from stone. Oh, father of all, remember those you gave life to and show them mercy once again. Oh, stone remember who you once cradled and mellow your bosom for them. May their steps tread safely on you and may you open your womb once again to give them refuge.”

Faith touched one of her dishes in which a single coin and an iridescent river pebble lay.

“Let not the fashioner of evil unmake your gift of strength and beauty to this world. For this, I pray.”

She turned to the second dish, containing seeds and herbs she had picked, offerings covered in mud and earth still.

“Oh, great creator, I cry to the part of you that is warm and motherly, to the face Thorin calls Yavanna under his breath. They are not made of stone; they are born, and they grow. May the protection of the mother fall upon them, the defence of all things that grow and thrive. Let the world I have cherished welcome them freely, oh great creator, oh manyfold God. May the rivers run smooth, and the trees grant them shade. Oh, earth you who have been my mother, hide their steps from foes and bear fruit to sustain them. I beg for this as a friend of all things living, may they be recognised by bird and beast, by heart and soul alive, for what they are: living, breathing, feeling creatures of this earth. Do not let them walk alone. For this, I pray.”

Finally, she lifted her own blood and poured it onto the soil in front of her.

“I am but a measly creature, a single life, but I understand that whatever blessing I might have known has had a purpose. I am a vessel and here, I surrender the mercy I have been granted to this greatest of kings. Take this blood into your bosom and see the flaws within it! May my life and the life of my kin be a cenotaph to guilt that spans over generations!”

She touched her forehead to the ground again before going on:

“Oh, great creator, carry the wisdom I have paid in blood and tears forth; may there be a gracious and brave child for every stubborn, unhospitable father, may the sons and daughters save their elders by their generous deeds. For this, I pray.”

Faith stood up again, bowing to her offerings thrice before lifting the knife to her throat.

This time, even Thorin jerked, but she merely cut off a strand of her hair to let it fall in the blood-stained dish.

“As for myself, I vow service, as I have before. I shall work tirelessly; I shall dig my hands bloody in search of fertile earth and I shall make plants thrive in your honour. From the day their feet fall into the first step of this most perilous of journeys until the day I shall gaze upon your blessed people again, oh great creator, I shall walk and pray in devout industry, only ever lifting my eyes to the sky to check if I am called forth. I yield whatever grace was placed upon and within me to Thorin, son of Thráin, son of Thrór, and whoever goes with him; I offer whatever strength I have to please you, oh great creator, in all your glory.”

Faith was about to turn away when she fell onto her knees again, her head pressed against the blood-drenched soil, sobbing in a low voice: “Oh, I plead with you, oh glorious, almighty, many-faced one, protect the one I call friend, the one who promised more than his body to me, bring him home safely even if I never get to see him again. Do not cut short the life of princes so valiant and honourable either. Take home the weary bones of old warriors and give fertile soil to the young ones to thrive. You are the maker of all things, of things that never change and of things that never stand still; honour their steadfast courage, eternal as the mountain, and their beating hearts, ever-changing as the seasons.”

Remembering the excellent hearing of the dwarrows, Faith lowered her voice to a whisper as she finished: “For I love them, dearly, desperately, endlessly. May the love of a mere mortal be guide, shield, and sword to them. I ask for nothing for myself, not an ounce of comfort, not a single blessing, heed my love for it is my only need in this life! I beg of you, I’d give everything for you to hear me…for this I pray.”

She bowed one last time, pulled down her sleeve and turned around to see Thorin staring at her with unfathomable eyes.

And then, the pain engulfed her, and she collapsed at the same time as Thorin broke into an impressive sprint for a boulder.

#fanfiction #thorin oakenshield #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #prayer #the aftermath of almost sex #nice chapter to write #overly dramatic

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anika-ann · 3 years

Text

Warm Up My Heart

(...So It Never Gets Cold Again)

Type: One-shot to a series (part 1 & part 2), Avenger!reader AU.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader Word count: 2500

Summary: Boy meets girl. Boy likes girl. Girl likes boy. Boy wants to propose soon… boy slips. You know the drill. In which Tony builds a training super-bot, Steve gets a boo-boo and the rest is history.

Warnings: mild injury and violence, swearing, cheesy af fluff

A/N: There weren’t al that many of you reading this series, but since it’s a rewrite/editing stuff for me (something I have time for), I’m bringing it back! I’ve been neglecting it long enough...

Series masterlists (aka previous parts) linked above

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“Captain America’s been brought to his knees. They found his weak spot and he went down all too easily for the world’s first superhero; literally crumbled on the ground, unable to get back up-“

Steve groaned, miserable and extremely annoyed at the same time, and you chuckled, which earned you a wounded look from the supersoldier.

You retreated from his right foot to muffle the sound escaping your mouth with you palm. You couldn’t help it; as much as you felt sorry for Steve, troubled by the fact he was in pain, you knew it wasn’t serious and Tony’s dramatic commentary was just too hilarious.

“Tony, just leave him be. And stop making me laugh,” you pleaded, suddenly back to seriousness. This was no fun; you did need to concentrate. “I might as well freeze his foot off if you keep distracting me.”

It was the truth; you had spent the past minutes trying to cool down Steve’s ankle, which had been sprained. All three of you were now in one of the training rooms of the compound, you and Steve sitting on a bench, while Tony hovered above you. Steve’s leg was resting over your knees, so you could reduce the swelling before it could fully develop.

The injury was totally Tony’s fault.

Being the generous friend and maniac he was, he had invented a special kind of a training super-bot – which had earned him both sharp glares and amused looks. It wasn’t half bad; it actually was a fair competition for Steve, which was saying something. It probably had something to do with the fact Tony had seen Steve in action more than a few times, learning his fighting style; programming his knowledge into the software of the bot meant one less advantage for Steve. Plus, Tony had used some special enforced material-

-which was exactly the problem. It was enforced; too much. And not enough.

When Steve kicked with his full strength, his foot had just… pretty much stuck in the robot’s torso. He had been lucky it hadn’t torn his flesh off and he had ended up only like this – with sprained ankle and few deep scratches which had already stopped bleeding. Incredibly lucky even considering that his instinct had been to get his foot out immediately, so he could go on with the fight; he hadn’t been exactly gentle and patient with freeing himself. Honestly, you were surprised his limbs were still attached.

Now he couldn’t even put his full weight on his injured leg. At least the robot had helped him hobble to the bench, because between your built and Tony’s willingness to talk being way bigger than his willingness to help with Steve’s weight (muscles were heavy), Steve would be still on the ground. Well, limping uselessly on one foot anyway.

“And get me an elastic bandage. Hush! Go make yourself useful!” you ordered, directing Tony towards the door, motioning with your hand in an ‘off you go’ gesture.

“Cap, your girl is bossy and has no respect for elders,” the billionaire complained, but turned on his heels and headed to get a first aid kit. The bot stood by the end of the bench dutifully, not moving an inch.

“I beg to differ, she treats me just fine,” Steve called out after Tony, winking at you as you brought your hands back.

You focused on tuning your powers to the right temperature, hovering only few inches from his skin. You sighed when the door clicked behind Tony and went back to work.

“You okay?” you whispered, glancing up just for a moment before returning your full attention to his injury.

“I’ve had plenty of worse.”

“That’s neither an answer or comforting, you know.”

“I’m much better now,” he admitted softly and you could hear the tender smile in his voice.

It warmed your heart and filled your chest with pride. You knew he meant it as a compliment; and he was not complimenting your powers, not the tool you had been given, but he was praising you for being so skilful with it.

You managed a tiny smile. “I’m glad.”

Your mind raced as you thought of how you could make it even better. You were no doctor; you barely knew the RICE rule, of which you only had two things covered by now; Elevation and Ice. The third was on its way (hopefully, but one never knew with Tony) and the fourth was… probably out of question, because make Steve Rogers rest was way beyond anyone’s ability. You closed your eyes, focusing on the things you actually could control.

Steve apparently understood your need to concentrate, or had nothing to say, because he didn’t utter a word. But the silence was comfortable, kind even. You tried to convince yourself his eyes were roaming around the training room; in reality, you were ninety-nine percent sure he was watching you work and despite all the time spent together, all his efforts to chase your insecurities away and proving countless time that he trusted you… you felt a bit nervous.

Too small under his intense gaze, you could tell that hot blood rushed into your cheeks. It was ridiculous. And it probably made Steve’s lips curl up in a grin, because he had mentioned more than once that he found your embarrassment endearing and entirely adorable. He could always tell.

“Marry me,” he pleaded softly and the shock of those two words spoken threw you off so hard your concentration levelled to zero in an instant.

The temperature you had been treating his ankle with so carefully dropped low beyond the desired one as if you flipped a switch.

You felt the burst of energy from your hands more than you heard his pained hiss and you quickly snapped your eyes open, withdrawing your hands in one swift movement.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” you blurted out, staring at his foot with horror, masochistically examining the damage you had done – a frostbite no doubt, because of course you had done some serious damage-

-well… actually you hadn’t, because apparently your reflexes had improved greatly with time, but the skin had definitely less healthy colour than before and-

“Oh Steve, I am so, so sorry, I swear I didn’t meant to-“

“It’s… it’s okay,” he stuttered, sounding more embarrassed than hurting.

You were relieved; then again, when had Steve Rogers ever admitted he was in pain?

You couldn’t find yourself to look up to his face nevertheless, too horrified and scared. What have you done?

Also… what the hell had he just said? You had imagined it, right? He hadn’t… hadn’t…?

“It wasn’t your fault. That’s completely on me. You said Tony not to distract you and… I shouldn’t have— I shouldn’t have said that.“

You looked up at him, biting your lip, suddenly convinced that he actually had proposed. Just like that. You didn’t give yourself time to let it sink in or to… indulge the feeling. Because he just apologized for saying it. You would bet all your money that he did regret it now, for multiple reasons.

It kinda stung that he had confessed to it out loud, though.

Okay, fuck it, it hurt like hell, because even when you had never talked about it, it burned down your very soul that he… that he would ever regret asking.

He groaned, covering his red face with his palms.

“I---you’re… injured. Probably confused by the product of Tony’s brilliant ideas. It’s okay, let’s just… forget that, okay? We all say strange things when we’re in pain, things we regret-“

You hated that your voice trembled at the last word and Steve’s hands immediately went down, his blue eyes piercing right through yours. He seemed more horrified than you now.

“I’m sorry. That came out completely wrong. All of it. Oh god…. I do regret it, alright? I’m sorry, Snowflake. I really shouldn’t have said that. Not… not like this,” he added gently and your heart positively stopped as his gaze found you, a new twinkle in his irises.

No, there was nothing new in it. You had seen it before, occasionally. In moments that only belonged to you two, when you were alone or it felt like you were alone, the world around disappearing. When you would catch his gaze across the room while laughing with someone else. When you let your powers draw flowers on the windows of the compound, creating winter decorations that were not exactly allowed in the military space.

Admiration. Tenderness. Dedication. Love.

Your lips parted in surprise as he kept observing you, the emotions changing on your face, flashing with realization. Wait. That was… what? Your breath hitched.

Steve gave you a very nervous smile as he lifted his leg from your lap, setting it back on the ground.

“What are you-“ you snapped from your strange trance immediately, wanting to stop him from whatever he was about to do, because you weren’t finished and goddammit, he needed to keep his leg elevated-

-and not to lower himself from the bench on one knee.

Right in front of you.

As if he was proposing.

Like, really proposing.

You watched him with disbelief when he planted himself into the infamous position, injured ankle in an awkward position, and you would swear that he could hear your heartbeat echoing within the walls of the gym. You sure as hell did, your blood pounding in your ears and your head positively spinning.

You simply couldn’t believe your eyes. You were sure your pupils were wide enough to reduce your irises to nothing.

Steve swallowed loudly, looking up at your face from under his eyelashes, his eyes hopeful and wide as well. At this point, you couldn’t breathe, your ribcage way too small for your swelling heart.

This was happening.

Oh shit, this was happening. Steve was… Steve was-

“Snowflake,” he whispered, his voice heavy with emotions and something that you would swear was a hint of fear, “you are the most amazing woman I’ve ever met. Whenever I’m with you, I’m the happiest I’ve ever been and despite your powers, your presence-- you are warm like sunshine. I love you. I love you with my whole heart and… please, would you do me the honour of becoming my wife?”

You stared at him, his eyes shining with hope, his Adam’s apple bobbing as you weren’t able to utter a single word and left him waiting for your answer.

You felt like an idiot for leaving him in anticipation and with doubts--- because you loved him. God, you loved this man so much and couldn’t even speak despite being sure with what you wanted to say more than anything.

So you blinked away the solitude tears that gathered in your eyes, because you were a regular sap, and nodded. His face lighted up like Christmas tree – no matter how cliché it sounded, it was the first analogy that came to your mind and it was very true.

Hesitant smile appeared on his lips as he stared at you with same disbelief that must have shown on you own face. “Yeah?”

You chuckled, covering your mouth with your palm before you could let out some very embarrassing sound. You nodded furiously, again and again.

“Yeah,” you breathed out finally and Steve shamelessly grabbed you and pulled you down at him. He fell on his ass, so you both basically crushed into the bench, but you couldn’t help but laugh like a madwoman as he was trying to balance the both of you, you being nestled in his lap all of sudden.

He wrapped his arm around you, pulling you flush against his own body, immediately freeing your hair from the messy bun you wore – just so he could nuzzle his face in it. You could feel his smile against your cheek and then he placed a quick kiss there, then lower, then on your jaw, and then finally found your lips. He kissed you, letting you taste the delight on his tongue, his breath whispering of gratitude, pleading you to say it again.

“Yes,” you repeated simply and earned another kiss, this time longer, passionate and tender, breath-taking and making you feel like flying.

The butterflies in your stomach flipped their wings like crazy – kissing Steve was always an amazing feeling, but this time… you were kissing Steve, your fiancée. He just proposed, he wanted to marry you and you were about to marry him. Excitement tingled in your fingertips, restless and wonderful and your body melted into his, wishing to just merge into one.

You only realized his body was not exactly okay when he retreated an inch, allowing you both to catch your breath and your brain to reboot. Seeing his twinkling eyes, you swallowed the question about his well-being, simply not having the heart to ruin the unexpected, peculiar and pretty magical moment. He rested his forehead against yours, his eyelids falling shut.

“That... that is not how I was planning on doing this,” he whispered, sounding a bit embarrassed, and the corners of your lips twitched, rising even higher. You hadn’t realized you had automatically started smiling the moment your lips had been freed, but apparently you had.

“Are you saying there was a plan, oh my Star-Spangled Man?” you replied with voice as soft as his, teasing him lightly.

“Uhm… I mean… I was working on it, at least. It involved having the ring actually on me instead of having it lying in our room and all that.”

The ring. The ring that was in your room at the moment. He clearly wasn’t just throwing the words around. He… he actually had been planning a proposal. You heart fluttered at the confession.

“But then Steve Rogers’ impulsiveness got in a way and… here we are,” he revealed sheepishly and you didn’t think you could be more moved.

It wasn’t just him thinking about it – it was him losing it in a moment so ordinary like this as if he couldn’t wait anymore.

“Good. Wouldn’t want it any other way.”

His expression turned curious and a bit confused. “Good?”

“Yeah. It’s Steve Rogers I want to marry after all.”

The most gorgeous smile appeared on his lips and you couldn’t resist – you kissed him again. A silent promise of kissing him every day for the rest of your lives.

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Tony Stark was standing behind the transparent door to the gym, facing away from the two of you, but peeking over his shoulder; an equivalent of subtlety. A grin that was not even a little silly played on his lips and he was not tearing up at all.

Who was he kidding, he was really glad he had added the AV system to his super- bot. Because the record of what definitely looked like a bit strange proposal was something he would miss greatly.

He smirked at the kit in his hand, opened the door for a slit, quietly slipped his hand in – completely unnoticed by the oblivious lovebirds – and left the supplies there.

When he closed the door again soundlessly and made his way out of the area, he couldn’t but mutter under his breath.

“About damn time, Rogers. About damn time.”

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Next series (Five Times Steve Felt Betrayed and the One Time He Felt like He Was Betraying You)

S.R.masterlist

────── ·❆· ──────

So, I had my thoughts on some more storyline (sort of) and got to the point where I felt sorry for not coming up with a concrete plan of how a proposal implied in the next story went. I couldn’t resist and had to come up with some, because reasons.

Apparently, I’m a sucker for pain the concept of proposal going way differently than planned...

Thank you for reading... I hope your week started off well!

#fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #avengers au #one shot #avenger reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers #captain america #captain america x you #captain america x reader #captain america imagine #melting hearts #melting hearts series #warm up my heart #anika ann

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