#Nest Swing Egg Chairs | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

piercethewon · 1 year

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⚔️Kingslayer. (Final!)

7 — Strawberry jam lips. || wc: 2,3k.

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Blue, what a splendid color; one that paints birds, flowers, and butterflies with its deep hue, the only color that is able to unify the sky and the sea in an immense, breathtaking scenery that could make the strongest and bravest of people feel small and insignificant with its mysterious beauty. No one knows what is hidden in the depths of the sea, or the highest peaks of the sky, but regardless of the ignorance that is helplessly tied to our condition as humans, everyone seems to agree that the point where both of them collide can bring comfort and tranquility to those who admire its striking beauty.

Nishimura Riki was the sea, sometimes calm and collected, sometimes turbulent and untamed, swinging in an unpredictable pattern between both states, full of secrets, full of surprises, sparkling with life. You were the sky, frequently hiding between the clouds of your mind far away from everyone else, you were more predictable and easier to read, but that did not mean people would understand you, or agree with you; some people want you to rain, others to shine, and a few ones wish for rainbows, but it is impossible to please everyone.

Both of you were now beautifully painted, as sky and sea, by your skillful hand that gently guided a brush past the canvas, leaving carefully calculated traces of blue behind to bring your emotions to life.

Not a day had passed where you could get the now king of the south out of your head, ever since you saw him last in the gloomy forest. Today, you were celebrating your eighteenth birthday, and the least you were expecting was some kind of proof that you were too, running laps inside his intricate mind.

A few weeks ago, the boy who you used to know as prince Nishimura had been coronated and was now the leader of the kingdom on the coast. The ceremony had been held privately so little to no people had witnessed him wearing the royal crown, but the mental image was enough to excite you even more with the idea of meeting him again.

Your ears perked at the sound of someone knocking on the door, your hand staying still in front of the unfinished painting, but every single hypothesis that you had impressively fabricated in the span of merely a few seconds had disintegrated after you recognized the voice of one of your maids telling you that lunch was almost ready.

A defeated sigh left your lips as you resumed your work, paintbrush dancing on the wet and colorful surface of the canvas, and eyes darting through the blue scenery in search of imperfections. Time had passed, that was for sure, but why did you even think that Riki could have grown civil enough to knock on the door instead of, for example, crashing through the ceiling? You thought that, if the king had actual plans to make an appearance, it would be unconventional and unexpected, but impressive regardless.

You sighed again and closed your eyes, feeling the spring breeze slip through the open window… wait, when exactly did you open the window?

—I accidentally stepped on a nest on my way here and crushed all the eggs that were inside— Riki fixed his clothes, he was covered in pollen and small leaves, possibly from the newly bloomed barricade of plants —Someone has to explain that to the parents… not me though. Oh, and happy birthday!—. A squeal left his lips when he dodged a brush soaked in blue paint that came his way like a projectile —Hey! If you keep throwing things at me, I won’t visit you anymore!—.

You crossed your arms, unfazed by his stare —I waited for you the entire day! What took you so long?!—.

He tilted his head, frowning at you —Didn’t you tell me to look for you today?— he handed you the brush, watching with amazement as you immediately started working on the finishing touches —Please don’t tell me you were joking back then… Sunghoon had to tie me to a chair because I wanted to come here so bad— it was starting to become a difficult task to keep your serious front when his cute pout threatened to break through all your defenses.

—But my birthday started twelve hours ago! You could’ve come faster!— he snorted at your childish antics, effectively making you smile.—I’m sorry for that…— he followed along with your impromptu skit —but I bet my gift can make all those months of wait worth it— he winked as he walked closer, bringing a chair with him to sit beside you. —Woah, it’s so pretty— he beamed, looking at your painting— is this what you were talking about when you mentioned something about learning new things?— he rested his chin on your shoulder to take a closer look, his messy hair tickled your ear.

—One of them, yes…— you turned your head slightly, enough to gaze at his side profile; his face was even prettier now, his hair had gotten a little longer, and his aura was less chaotic than the last time you saw him, but the curiosity and attentiveness for you were still there. —That’s you and me— you gestured at the sky and sea that adorned the wide canvas, Riki made a sound of confusion —I’ll explain it to you someday… maybe—.

—You surely will, we have a lot of time ahead to catch on— his eyes scanned through the spacious bedroom; the pink bedsheets and your doll, lady pumpkin seed, were still there, but many other things had changed for good, like your etiquette manuals and fairytales being replaced with plenty of books about politics and history of all the neighboring kingdoms. —We changed a lot since then, haven’t we?— you nodded, then both of you sighed in unison; a “few months” had felt like decades because you were apart from each other, wishing on every star for a day when you could be reunited again, in a healthier and clearer headspace. —I don’t mind it, though, I can get used to this new you— you nodded, the feeling was mutual.

Riki placed his hand tentatively over yours, holding it when he noticed that you had no plans on retracting it —Can you follow me outside? I have a present for you— you smiled at him and followed his steps outside your room and through the castle hallways, lunch long forgotten. The sunlight filtered through the windows, painting the floor with a pattern of quadrilateral shapes of warm light, the scent coming from the variety of flowers that adorned the gardens could be smelled even from inside, and the melody performed by all kinds of birds accompanied your echoing steps; having the king by your side made this spring day feel fairytale-like, exceptionally magical.

You gasped after taking account of the familiar pink blanket that spread under an apple tree at a faraway corner of the garden, the sense of deja vu bringing tears to the corner of your eyes that threatened to spill any second. You looked up at Riki, who grinned in pride at your reaction —Who could’ve guessed that you were such a sentimental person? Recreating our first meet-up…— you hit him gently with your elbow and walked beside him to the isolated picnic, no servants in the area this time.

—It’s fine, you can call it “our first date”— he gestured for you to take a seat in front of him —I made the food this time! Well, I had a little help from my mom, but still…— he noticed how your hand had stopped midway from taking a bite of a blueberry muffin and pouted at you —Hey! It’s totally edible!—.

You laughed, deciding it was enough teasing, and tasted the still-warm delicacy, your eyes immediately opening in surprise as soon as your taste buds became aware of the sweet flavors melting in your mouth —It has brown sugar!—. The king could only smile at your endearing reaction, too mesmerized to react or eat the strawberry jam sandwich that rested on his hand, you felt your face burn under his stare and evaded his eyes, faking interest in the few trees that grew elegantly on your right side.

He noticed your reaction, getting flustered himself; it seems like some things would never change between you two. —Yeah, I wanted to recreate that day as best as I could… It was the first time I told you I liked you, after all— his words made you choke on your muffin, and he snorted, offering you some water —My feelings haven’t changed since then, so I wanted to take us back—.

You coughed a few times more before being able to regain your composure —You mean… back to when you and I were supposed to get married?— he nodded slowly, slightly surprised that you could see through the facade and find the hidden message behind the cute lunch date.

—Y/N— his voice softened, and his eyes were fixed on his hands that played mindlessly with a small tissue —I don’t think I can marry you—.

Time seemed to stop in your little, private corner as you assimilated his words; the muffin started to feel heavy inside your knotted stomach. —Don’t get me wrong— the king continued, trying his best to disperse the heavy silence —I like you, a lot, actually— he took a deep breath and mustered the courage to look at you in the eyes again, only for his heart to sink after taking in all the sheer sadness that flooded your eyes —But you have a life here, you just found things you like, things that you want to learn, that you want to see… I don’t want to take all that from you and practically force you to become the queen of a nation you’ve never even visited in your life…— his voice trembled, pronouncing these words was so painful for him —I don’t want you to feel miserable by my side—.

You patiently waited for him to finish, straightening your posture —You really are way more mature than the last time I saw you— you spoke softly and reached for his hands, he was shaking —But you are wrong, I would never feel miserable by your side, in fact, I’ve been preparing myself to become queen all these past months— he tilted his head in confusion and you offered him a reassuring smile —Politics, history, speech… I’ve been studying to become a public figure ever since the moment I came back home from the forest—.

He sniffed, pouting as he watched your thumbs caress the back of his hands —but what about your paintings? And why are you forcing yourself to study all those boring things?—.

You clicked your tongue —Oh, damn it, I totally forgot that painting was prohibited in the south—.

—Y/N! This is not the time for jokes! I’m being serious!— his complaining was so cute, you had to stop yourself from pinching his fluffy-looking cheeks.

—And also, I am not forcing myself to do anything, you might find it boring because I highly doubt you ever finished reading a whole book— you ignored the look of disbelief he gave you and continued —The paintings are coming with me, I made sure to paint all my favorite places, my family, stuff like that, so that they would always be with me— you paused to squeeze his hands, waiting until his tremblors had ceased —Leading a nation is not easy, more so if you’re alone, that’s why I’ve been preparing myself, I want to stay by your side and help you lead your people… But if you reject me like this, all the things I learned will go to waste—.

Riki took a few moments to scan your face before talking —Then… does that mean you want to marry me? Are you sure you don’t need more time to think carefully about it?— his eyebrows knitted in worry; him being this attentive and taking your feelings into consideration at all times, even when you have not said a thing, was one of the many reasons you were completely sure of your decision.

—I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you by my side, Riki— his smile was so pretty, so contagious, you were mirroring his expression in no time. Your hand reached for his face, holding him gently as he leaned into the warmth of your touch —Let’s change the world together— you whispered and finally closed the distance, meeting his lips once more.

There was a faint taste of strawberry jam on his lips that made you smile into the kiss. You soon felt his hands holding one of yours, swiftly sliding a ring on your fourth finger —Can’t wait to see that happen, my queen— he said, forehead pressed against yours as you gazed down at the familiar crystal that shone with a pink glow under the midday sun.You stayed in this position a few minutes more while Riki caressed your hair and pressed loving kisses all over your face, making you giggle at his sudden outburst of affection.

An idea suddenly popped up in your head, and you sneakily reached for one of the plates, collecting a considerable amount of jam on your index finger before spreading it on the king’s face.It took a moment for him to wake up from his trance and realize what happened, he brought a hand to his face to feel the jam that painted his cheek.

He looked at you with an unimpressed expression —Sharing a living space with you will surely be… interesting— he said, snorting after taking account of the sly grin that adorned your face.

—You’re right, this is going to be so much fun—.

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Previous ⚔️ Masterlist

#enhypen #enhypen angst #enhypen fic #enhypen fluff #enhypen niki #enhypen x reader #enhypen x y/n #enhypen x you #niki enhypen #enhypen fanfic #nishimura riki #niki angst #niki fluff #niki x you #niki #ni ki #niki x reader

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homekitdecor · 1 month

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Using Indoor Egg Chair to Reduce Anxiety

A Design Classic:

The indoor egg chair, initially conceived by Danish architect and designer Arne Jacobsen in the 1950s, has become a design classic renowned for its unique and instantly recognizable form. Its cocoon-like shape, with a high back and curved sides. Not only provides a sense of privacy but also adds a sculptural element to any room.

Modern Elegance:

Fast forward to the present, and the indoor egg chair has seamlessly transitioned from mid-century modern aesthetics to contemporary chic. Available in a variety of materials, colors, and finishes, these chairs offer versatility that complements a wide range of interior styles. From sleek leather to cozy fabric, there’s an egg chair to suit every taste.

Cozy Comfort:

At the heart of the indoor egg chair’s appeal is its unparalleled comfort. The ergonomic design cradles the body, providing a cozy and inviting space for relaxation. Whether placed in a reading nook, bedroom corner, or living room, sinking into the plush cushions of an egg chair instantly transports you to a world of tranquility.

Statement Piece:

Beyond its comfort, the indoor egg chair serves as a statement piece, effortlessly elevating the aesthetic of any room. Its distinctive design makes it a focal point, sparking conversation and drawing attention. It’s not just a piece of furniture; it’s a work of art that transforms the atmosphere of the space it inhabits.

Versatile Placement of the indoor egg chair:

One of the key advantages of the indoor egg chair is its versatility in placement. Compact and stylish, it can fit into various corners of your home, turning underutilized spaces into inviting retreats. Whether you’re creating a cozy reading book, a conversation corner, or a personal sanctuary, the egg chair adapts to your needs.

Bringing the Outdoors In:

The indoor egg chair also offers a unique connection to nature. With its enclosed design, it provides a sense of shelter reminiscent of a nest. This connection to the outdoors adds a touch of natural serenity to indoor spaces, making it a perfect escape from the hustle and bustle of modern life. The indoor egg chair is more than just a piece of furniture; it’s a design icon that combines timeless elegance with contemporary comfort. Whether you’re a fan of mid-century modern aesthetics or seeking a statement piece to elevate your interior, the indoor egg chair is a versatile and stylish choice. Embrace the allure of this classic piece and transform your living space into a haven of comfort and sophistication.

In the realm of interior design, certain elements effortlessly capture the imagination, seamlessly blending aesthetics with functionality. The indoor hanging egg chair is a prime example, weaving an air of elegance and relaxation into contemporary living spaces. Let’s explore the enchanting world of indoor hanging egg chairs, from their design origins to the transformative impact they can have on your home.

A Suspended Retreat:

The indoor hanging egg chair traces its roots to innovative mid-century designs, where suspended seating became a symbol of avant-garde elegance. Today, these chairs continue to captivate with their suspended charm, offering a unique and visually striking addition to modern interiors.

Timeless Design, Modern Appeal:

Designed to evoke the shape of an egg, these hanging chairs boast a cocoon-like silhouette that provides both comfort and style. Crafted in a variety of materials such as wicker, rattan, or even sleek acrylic, indoor hanging egg chairs effortlessly marry timeless design with a contemporary aesthetic, becoming focal points in any room.

Floating Comfort:

One of the most enticing features of indoor hanging egg chairs is the sensation of floating. Suspended from a sturdy ceiling mount, these chairs create a gentle, swinging motion that adds an extra layer of relaxation. Paired with plush cushions and a cozy throw, sinking into a hanging egg chair becomes a serene escape from the demands of everyday life.

Versatility in Placement:

Unlike traditional chairs, indoor hanging egg chairs boast versatility in placement. Whether hung in a corner reading nook, a bedroom retreat, or even a sunlit living room, these suspended cocoons transform underutilized spaces into inviting sanctuaries. Their ability to swivel and rotate enhances their adaptability to various settings.

Stylish and Space-Saving:

Indoor hanging egg chairs offer a stylish solution for those who value both form and function. Their suspended nature adds a touch of whimsy and drama to any room, while their space-saving design allows you to make the most of limited square footage. It’s a perfect marriage of style and practicality.

Creating a Relaxation Hub:

Imagine creating a dedicated relaxation hub within your home – a space where you can unwind, read, or simply daydream. The indoor hanging egg chair becomes the centerpiece of this sanctuary, enveloping you in comfort and offering a unique vantage point from which to appreciate your surroundings.

Harmony with Nature:

Much like their grounded counterparts, indoor hanging egg chairs bring a sense of nature indoors. The use of natural materials, coupled with the suspended design, creates an organic harmony that connects your living space with the outdoors. It’s a subtle yet powerful way to infuse tranquility into your home.

The indoor hanging egg chair is a captivating fusion of design innovation and relaxation. From its suspended elegance to the soothing motion it provides, this piece of furniture transcends the ordinary, transforming your living space into a haven of comfort and style. Embrace the allure of the indoor hanging egg chair and elevate your home with a touch of suspended sophistication.

In the realm of contemporary interior design, where form meets function, the indoor hanging egg chair has emerged as a symbol of style, comfort, and innovation. Hanging gracefully from above, these suspended cocoons add a touch of whimsy and relaxation to indoor spaces. Let’s delve into the allure of indoor hanging egg chairs, exploring their design, comfort, and the transformative impact they bring to your home.

Design Elegance:

The indoor hanging egg chair, inspired by mid-century design sensibilities, offers a captivating visual aesthetic. Its cocoon-like form, often crafted from materials like wicker or rattan, creates a statement piece that effortlessly blends modern elegance with a hint of retro charm. This suspended design adds a dynamic element to your interior, becoming a focal point that draws the eye.

A Swinging Retreat:

One of the defining features of indoor hanging egg chairs is the gentle sway they provide. Suspended from a sturdy ceiling mount, these chairs offer a soothing rocking motion that enhances the overall sense of relaxation. Paired with plush cushions and a cozy throw, the experience of sinking into an indoor hanging egg chair becomes a suspended retreat within the comfort of your own home.

Versatility in Placement:

Unlike conventional seating options, indoor hanging egg chairs offer unparalleled versatility in placement. Whether positioned in a cozy corner, a bedroom sanctuary, or as a unique addition to a living room, their ability to hang from above liberates floor space and allows for creative design possibilities. The result is an adaptable and stylish piece that seamlessly integrates into various settings.

Comfort Redefined:

While the visual appeal of indoor hanging egg chairs is undeniable, their comfort is equally noteworthy. The spacious, cocoon-like design provides a sense of enclosure and privacy, making it an ideal spot for relaxation, reading, or contemplation. The addition of soft, supportive cushions enhances the overall comfort, inviting you to linger and unwind.

Creating an Oasis:

Indoor hanging egg chairs have the power to transform a corner of your home into a personal oasis. By combining aesthetics with functionality, these suspended cocoons become more than just a piece of furniture – they create a dedicated space for relaxation and rejuvenation. It’s a private retreat within the confines of your home.

Harmonizing with Your Style:

Whether your interior style is modern, bohemian, or eclectic, indoor hanging egg chairs seamlessly harmonize with diverse design aesthetics. Available in an array of materials, colors, and styles, these chairs can be tailored to complement your existing decor or serve as a standout statement piece that defines the ambiance of the room.

Indoor hanging egg chairs represent a delightful convergence of design ingenuity and comfort. Elevating your interior with their suspended elegance, these chairs provide a unique retreat that transcends the ordinary. Embrace the enchanting charm of indoor hanging egg chairs and redefine your living space by introducing a touch of stylish innovation and serene comfort.

In the world of interior design, where comfort meets style, indoor egg chairs with stands have emerged as a versatile and eye-catching addition to contemporary living spaces. Suspended elegantly from sturdy frames, these chairs offer a unique blend of modern aesthetics and unparalleled comfort. Let’s delve into the allure of indoor egg chairs with stands, exploring their design, functionality, and the transformative impact they bring to indoor environments.

A Statement in Suspended Elegance:

The indoor egg chair, originally conceived as a mid-century design classic, takes on new dimensions with the addition of a stand. The outcome is a suspended masterpiece that merges the iconic egg shape with a streamlined frame, forming a statement piece that not only delivers comfort but also functions as a visually striking focal point in any room.

Design Adaptability:

What sets indoor egg chairs with stands apart is their adaptability in various settings. Unlike their counterparts that require ceiling mounts, these chairs with stands offer the freedom to place them anywhere in your home without the need for structural support. This flexibility opens up a world of design possibilities, allowing you to experiment with placement and change your space dynamically.

Floating Comfort:

The essence of suspended comfort remains a key feature in egg chairs with stands. The airy, floating sensation created by the stand enhances the overall experience, making these chairs an inviting space to relax, read, or simply unwind. The gentle sway adds a touch of tranquility, turning an ordinary seating arrangement into a haven of relaxation.

Sturdy Support and Stability:

The stands supporting indoor egg chairs are crafted with stability in mind. Made from durable materials such as steel or aluminum, these frames provide a sturdy foundation, ensuring both safety and longevity. The combination of a robust stand with the enveloping comfort of the egg chair creates a harmonious balance of strength and style.

Versatility in Placement:

The addition of a stand introduces a new level of versatility in placement. Whether positioned in a sunlit corner, a reading nook, or as a chic accent in a larger living space, indoor egg chairs with stands become versatile design elements that seamlessly integrate into your home. Their standalone nature allows for easy relocation and experimentation with different layouts.

Aesthetics and Material Variety:

Indoor egg chairs with stands come in a diverse range of materials, finishes, and styles, allowing you to choose a design that complements your interior aesthetic. From classic rattan to modern acrylic, the variety in materials ensures that these chairs can seamlessly blend with existing decor or make a bold statement as a focal point.

Creating a Retreat:

The combination of the egg chair’s cocoon-like design and the stand’s architectural elegance creates a retreat within your home. This is not just a place to sit; it’s a curated space that invites you to escape, relax, and rejuvenate. The indoor egg chair with a stand transforms ordinary moments into extraordinary experiences.

Indoor egg chairs with stands represent a harmonious fusion of design, functionality, and comfort. Elevating your interior with their suspended elegance and adaptable placement options. These chairs redefine the concept of seating in contemporary homes. Embrace the allure of indoor egg chairs with stands, bringing a touch of elevated comfort to your living space and creating a sanctuary where style meets relaxation.

In the dynamic world of interior design, where comfort and innovation intersect. The indoor egg chair swing has emerged as a captivating and versatile addition to modern living spaces. Combining the iconic egg shape with the playful motion of a swing. These chairs offer a unique blend of style and relaxation. Let’s explore the irresistible allure of indoor egg chair swings, from their design evolution to the delightful experience they bring to indoor environments.

A Playful Evolution of Design:

The indoor egg chair swing is a delightful evolution of the classic egg chair concept. Retaining the distinctive egg-shaped design, these swings introduce an element of playfulness with their suspended motion. It is a seamless union of enduring sophistication and enchanting charm that captures both the gaze and the essence.

Dynamic Suspension:

The defining feature of indoor egg chair swings is, undoubtedly, the dynamic suspension. Hanging elegantly from a sturdy ceiling mount or a specially designed stand, these swings provide a gentle, rocking motion that transforms the act of sitting into an interactive and enjoyable experience. The sensation of floating adds an extra layer of comfort to the already cozy confines of the egg chair.

Versatility in Placement:

One of the key advantages of indoor egg chair swings is their adaptability in various settings. Whether placed in a reading nook, a sunlit corner, or even as a central feature in a living room, these swings offer versatility in placement that transcends traditional seating options. Their ability to sway and rotate adds a dynamic element to the overall ambiance of the space.

Comfortable Cocoon:

The egg-shaped design, synonymous with comfort, takes on new dimensions when combined with the swinging motion. The result is a comfortable cocoon that envelops you in a sense of security and relaxation. The soft, plush cushions often associated with egg chairs enhance the overall comfort, making it an ideal spot for unwinding and escaping the demands of the day.

Creating a Relaxation Haven:

Indoor egg chair swings go beyond mere furniture and become a focal point for creating a dedicated relaxation haven within your home. Whether employed for reading, daydreaming, or relishing a moment of serenity. These swings introduce a touch of luxury to daily life, converting your space into a haven of comfort.

Stylish and Whimsical: The combination of style and whimsy sets indoor egg chairs swings apart in the realm of interior design. Available in a variety of materials, colors, and finishes, these swings can be tailored to suit a range of design aesthetics. They effortlessly infuse a space with personality, serving as both a functional seating option and a stylish statement piece.

Interactive Seating:

The interactive appeal of indoor egg chair swings makes them attractive to individuals of all ages. Whether children revel in the playful sway or adults savor a sought-after moment of relaxation, these swings provide an interactive seating experience that infuses daily routines with a touch of joy.

Conclusion:

In summary, indoor egg chair swings epitomize a delightful blend of innovative design, comfort, and playfulness. Elevate your interior with the irresistible allure of these swings, turning ordinary moments into extraordinary experiences. Embrace the kinetic suspension, craft a chic sanctuary, and step into a fresh dimension of comfort and design within your living space.

#furniture #home & lifestyle #home decor #kitchen #lifestyle #reading nook #homekitdecor #staircase #bathroomdecor #bathrooms

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steviespanties · 3 years

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Special Treats For Good Cat Boys on AO3 for full tags. 2.6k, Rated E. Unapologetic smutty fluff with a chubby catboy!Steve in panties, pregnancy kink (without mpreg) and a very successful Valentine’s Day date night~ Fitting for the @harringroveheart-on prompts Lingerie, Champagne and Date Night and a belated b-day present for @rvspberryjvm 😊💗💗

It’s the second week of snow coming down on the city, covering houses and streets in sheets of white over and over again until all sound is muffled when Steve walks outside. Even with his sharp hearing, face wrapped in his favorite scarf, he has to strain his ears to not get surprised by people coming around corners.

Icy wind bites into his cheeks and once again he’s grateful for the incredibly fluffy knit hat Robin sent him for Christmas. It’s got holes for his ears to poke out in perfectly placed spots- something Billy sneakily helped figure out for her, she’d admitted on the phone.

“Good thing I convinced you to buy the more expensive winter coat, huh?” Next to him, wrapped in said coat, a blood red scarf, his hat and mittens, Billy looks a lot less grumpy when he doesn’t have to complain about freezing his ass off. Steve snickers at the glare thrown in his direction.

“How could I’ve known that winter in Michigan is even worse than Indiana?”

Steve laughs. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe someone tried to warn you in advance and you turned deaf all of a sudden?” He gets an adorable pout in response that Billy will deny up and down ever showing. He wants to reach out and kiss the corner of Billy’s pouty lips till he can’t help but react with a grin.

Bags full of groceries swing between them as they bicker back and forth. At a street crossing Billy reaches out and carefully brushes snow off Steve’s ear. He smiles back in thanks.

Steve’s ears have become extra fluffy this winter, with a thick undercoat that keeps the snow from melting and seeping into his skin. It’s like his body knew it had to prepare for the more serious cold. Billy can’t keep his hands from petting the new softness of Steve’s fur, taking every opportunity to brush his equally floofed up tail and give him head scratches. Steve’s started to feel very spoiled lately.

They arrive home to a warm apartment and close the door with relieved groans behind them, both glad to have escaped the cold. As they peel off their many layers of clothes, Steve sneaks a glance at Billy. He looks so beautiful when he’s flushed, his tan faded, but his freckles even more visible due to the winter sun. It’s not like Billy isn’t aware that he’s beautiful. Despite getting a bit soft around the middle, he’s still proud of maintaining his muscles. Gives himself finger guns and winks at the mirror when he’s all primped. But he’s also pretty. Long lashes and soft lips, a shimmery fuzz of golden hair on his body that Steve constantly wants to rub himself against. In the dark grey henley he reveals under his coat, he looks effortlessly stunning.

Of course, he catches Steve staring and throws him a smug grin.

“Ready for some food?” Steve nods and grabs his share of grocery bags to follow Billy into the kitchen.

“Starving,” he says. As they unpack, their limited counter space soon overflows with the clutter of their united assembly of their dinner: A spread of baguette slices with cream cheese, topped with caviar or smoked salmon. Cucumber salad, dark grapes and strawberries. Sliced-open croissants stuffed with bacon and scrambled eggs. Ice cream waiting in the freezer. And, of course, two bottles of champagne, already cooled in the fridge and now fizzing enchantingly in two glasses. Steve’s tail swishes excitedly at the mouth-watering smells and it takes a lot of self control not to sneak a bite. Still, Billy seems to have a sixth sense for Steve getting too riled up, because soon enough he bumps their shoulders together. “Why don’t you go ahead and get settled. Put on some music for us while I clean up.”

Steve bumps right back into him. Enjoys the way Billy barely even moves, unbothered and rooted firmly in place. “That sounds good. Thanks.” He can’t resist placing at least a quick kiss to Billy’s shoulder. This close, he can catch a good whiff of Billy’s scent, warm and a little woody because of his perfume. Billy playfully swats at him, which Steve evades in a fluid motion and a with laugh before he slips into the living room.

They’ve spent all afternoon working on a blanket fort that looks even more cozy and inviting than when they left to go grocery shopping. All the lights in the room are covered in red cloth, bathing the place in muted, warm light. Where their sofa usually stands, they’ve turned the entire thing around, thrown a futon in front and surrounded it with pillows and cushions. The cushy interior is flanked by chairs they’ve thrown a massive white sheet on top on, which trails over the back of the sofa and is illuminated by fairy lights on the inside. The mountain of blankets Steve insisted on adding might be a bit overkill, but his stomach gets all fluttery with elation when he looks at it. Like they’ve built their own little nest that calls for him to curl up between soft blankets where he can wait for Billy to join him.

So he hastily selects something sappy to softly play in the background: A REO Speedwagon album that Billy would never admit to liking, but that he has also never protested listening to when Steve's put it on or insisted on turning off either. Steve slips out of his pants, places them behind a cushion where he’s also snuck a bottle of lube and then quickly dives under a blanket when he hears Billy’s approaching footsteps.

“Hey there, kitty cat.” Billy comes into view holding a whole tray with their food, cleverly arranged so he can carry everything in one trip while an ice bucket with their champagne bottles dangles on his arm.

“Here, let me get that.” Steve leans up, careful not to let the blanket slip to reveal his surprise. He takes the tray off Billy’s hands and carefully lowers it to the ground. No snacks directly in the blanket fort if they want to sleep in here tonight. Billy huffs as he puts the bucket down. Lifts his head to make eye contact with Steve, just long enough to notice the mischievous glint in his eyes- and then he leaps forward with a whoop.

Steve yelps at a sudden armful of heavy, cackling boyfriend on top of him. Billy's happiness is infectious and he quickly feels himself join in on the laughter. It's Billy's turn to kiss him, just a lightning-fast peck on the lips that makes Steve wish he'd linger just a bit longer.

They share their first glasses of champagne that tingles on Steve’s sensitive tongue, making him chase its lightness into Billy’s slick mouth. There’s the explosion of briny, salty caviar and mild cream cheese in Steve’s mouth, more sips of champagne followed by cool, smoked salmon. The sensation of the tips of Billy’s fingers against his lips when he feeds him a bite. Holding a strawberry against Billy's lips in turn, he's enthralled by watching sharp teeth pierce the red flesh. Each sip of champagne slips down his throat easily, a perfect, decadent balance to all the different flavors that have danced over his tongue- none quite as addictive as the taste of Billy, though.

And suddenly, their tray is shoved to the side. Shirts are thrown off and Billy’s pants shoved down. The second champagne bottle is halfway empty and Steve’s belly is pleasantly full and warm in satisfaction, making him wriggle in satisfaction. Next to him, Billy inches closer. Crowds into his space until Steve leans back into soft pillows, ears standing up at attention. There’s a different kind of hunger in his eyes, now.

“I got a surprise for you,” he confesses in a hushed voice and slips the blanket down to reveal his present.

“Is that for me?” Billy’s words are smooth whiskey. Sweet and sharp and running over Steve’s body in an intoxicating caress that makes him squirm in place and his tail swish in gleeful anticipation. Billy’s hands close around his soft hips and tug him closer. Thumbs dig into the recently added softness of Steve’s tummy, all plumped up for the winter. He really feels like a spoiled and pampered housecat now, all drunk on treats and alcohol and skin contact.

Billy’s eyes are dark with want when his gaze catches on soft pink lace panties that finally show in all their glory when he fully slips the blanket off.

“You take such good care of me,” Steve says quietly. He wraps his arms around Billy to pull him in and feels a thrill run through him when Billy’s erection brushes against his leg. Clearly, the surprise is a success. “I figured this would be a nice gift.” A tender kiss to his neck.

With a teasing smirk, Billy looks down at the panties. “Oh, I’m very happy.” He snaps the waistband against Steve’s side, making a shocked mew slip out at the sting and his dick respond with a twitch. “But don’t pretend you’re being all altruistic here, babe.” A finger runs over the rapidly hardening outline of his dick and comes to rest right at the head. He pushes down, enough to give a tiny drop of pressure that makes Steve writhe in place, unable to open his mouth and ask for more. There’s just Billy’s warm hand on his hip and that unrelenting point of not-enough-contact. Steve moans.

“Ah, so- so what, not like we can’t both enjoy me dressing up for you!” For a moment, the pressure lets up.

An agreeable hum. “True. You sure enjoy being my pretty boy, though, huh?” And the pressure is back again, just at the sensitive underside of the head of Steve’s dick. That place is like a switch where he’s quickly set on fire just by Billy’s fingers and knowing eyes drinking him up. A small wet spot starts to form where a splash of precome gets trapped between his dick and the fabric of his panties.

“Yeah,” Steve admits as he rolls his hips up. Seeks the pressure and attention as another drop of precome pushes out. “Would enjoy it even more if you fucked me.” That gets him a small laugh.

“Someone’s been getting too spoiled.” Billy sounds positively delighted at Steve’s whining. He can’t help it! He’s spent most of the day opening himself up as sneakily as possible whenever he could get away with it, has made himself drip with lube until his hole has felt open and tender for way too long. Especially now, with Billy hovering above him, he feels himself want a reward for putting in all this extra preparation. He blindly gropes for the lube. Smacks Billy’s hand off his dick and the bottle into his palm and then pulls the fabric of his panties to the side to reveal his twitching, loose hole.

The frown he throws at Billy’s wide-eyed expression might be more of a pout than an intimidating glare. At least there's no protest from Billy, just a determined set to his jaw as he slicks up his fingers in a practiced motion. He shifts from confusion to palpable excitement when first one, then two fingers sink inside Steve with almost no resistance.

“Oh baby,” he croons and leans even further into Steve’s space. Kisses him slow and deep as he presses his fingers in and out in a pleasant drag that finally comes close to what Steve’s been craving all day. He grabs Billy’s arms and luxuriates in the indulgent slide of their tongues against each other and the sting of Billy’s teeth at his lip. He undulates his hips to meet Billy’s movement inside him, chasing the elusive need for more.

When they separate to breathe, he groans a desperate “Come on, I’m ready” into Billy’s ear. No matter how much of a hardass Billy likes to think he is, the strung-out tone of Steve’s voice never fails to give him a palpable full-body shudder that Steve triumphantly notices.

“Fuck, fine.” Billy looks flushed, all gold and pink and glowing in the soft light surrounding them.

The panties are stretched taut over Steve’s dick. Divine, almost too much pressure that makes him squirm as he watches Billy slick himself up. Being trapped drives him a little crazy and makes it impossible to fully hold still, even as Billy clearly tries to go slow while he savoring the sight of Steve all laid out in front of him. He doesn’t want to wait anymore till Billy finally decides they’re ready and shoves his hips down. Pops the thick cockhead inside and makes them both moan at the way Steve hole flutters around it.

“You’re so goddamn hungry for my cock, huh?” Billy thrusts deeper, clearly losing composure. “Pretty princess gagging to be filled up.” Steve helplessly moans as heat pools at the base of his spine and in his belly. He desperately meets Billy’s hips and lets out a long, drawn-out whine. “Bet you can’t wait to get pumped full to carry a whole litter of kittens for me.”

It’s like Billy has found the string he needed to tug on to open the floodgates to fill Steve with an overwhelming, fierce need. To open himself up even more for Billy to claim him inside and out, deeper even than Billy’s cock thrusting into him where it drags at his insides. “Billy,” he sobs, barely coherent, and clings to his back. Digs his fingers into skin and feels strong back muscles shift underneath his hands.

A rising pressure of something primal, inexplicable pulses through him. He drinks in the sensations- of Billy’s body heat and sweat-slick skin rubbing against Steve’s. Billy’s scent that makes Steve salivate for a taste of him. His hair falls down in soft, wavy strands that frame his face and tickle Steve's skin gently. A hand lands on his soft belly, above his trapped dick steadily pulsing hot precome into tight fabric. Billy's claiming where he’s warm and soft and still desperate for more of his touch.

“Or maybe,” Billy breathes against his ear, makes his breath ghost over the sensitive fur. His hand presses down a little harder. “Maybe you’re already carrying.”

He can’t breathe. He’s blinded by the fireworks going off behind his eyelids, unable to keep them open any longer.

There’s just Billy. Inside and out. And the thought of Steve's belly, carrying a small piece of both of them.

It’s too much. He comes, orgasm rolling over him relentlessly. He cries. Scratches at Billy’s back and pushes himself into Billy’s hand, consumed by his cock spreading him wide open, lost in the thought of more. His panties are filled with pulse after pulse of warm, sticky come, trapped mess turning into a feedback loop of shivery, delightful aftershocks.

There’s the most feather-light kisses on his eyelids. Billy’s thrusts slow to an intense, shuddering grind as he empties himself deep into Steve, all satisfied moans and grunts. Finally, there’s air in Steve's lungs again. He fills his nose with deep inhales of their satisfied scents all mixed together.

They rest. Clean up a little. Put on The Breakfast Club while they wrap around each other as they trade kisses and sips of leftover Champagne. Steve’s tail is curled around the arm Billy has thrown over his hips and he purrs in sleepy contentment while his ears are being pet. “You’re gonna be such a good parent” Billy teases at some point and earns himself a light smack to the shoulder that makes him hiss in mock-hurt. Steve places a kiss where he hit to ease the light sting anyways.

#harringrove #harringrove heart-on #harringrove fic #lingerie #bottom steve #catboy!steve #pregnancy kink #(without mpreg)

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shhhhyoursister · 3 years

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childhood friends to lovers!au

yes i am uploading these all at the same time what about it???? yeah so this the one where david is a rich kid who is “forced” to play with matteo (who is autistic in this au) but of course they become best friends because theyre soulmates so ahh i hope you like it!!!

He knows that he shouldn’t be climbing the tree.

His mom has told him at least a hundred times that he shouldn’t. She always tells him that he’s going to fall, bump his head or break his arm, and he needs to come down right this second or he’s going to bed without any dessert which is almost always enough to convince him.

He wraps his legs tight around the branch he’s on and let’s himself fall backwards, hanging with his head poking out just enough under the lowest leaves so he can see if anyone is there. He knows that Laura is doing schoolwork and his mom had been cooking something last he saw her, and he thinks it’s still too early for his dad to be home from work. His eyes scan the huge backyard, and, seeing nobody, he grins and grabs onto the branch to swing himself back up.

He stands, looking down at the dark blue velcro sneakers that he had begged for last time his mom had taken him shoe shopping, and starts walking across the branch like a tightrope. He holds his arms out, careful not to knock into any leaves or twigs jutting out at him. He gets to an upward curve in the branch and puts a foot on it.

It’s higher than he’s climbed before. Usually by this point someone has noticed that he’s gone, his mom or Laura bursting through the glass double doors that led to their backyard, yelling for him. Always calling out a name that makes him glare and wrinkle his nose. He almost loses his footing thinking about it and refocuses.

He knows what his goal is, and he’s only a couple feet away from reaching it. There’s a birds nest in the tree, high high up, that he’s been watching every morning with the binoculars his dad bought him. His mom would watch him pointing them out the window at the pretty blue bird, and one day got down on her knees next to him, pointed to it, and said, “There are going to be new baby birds in the nest soon, I saw two eggs. That mama bird is going to have two little baby birds, just like me.”

And he’s been trying to get a closer look ever since. He loves watching the birds, the whole reason his dad had bought him the binoculars in the first place, and he will spend hours just lying on his back in the grass, sunglasses (that his dad also bought him) snug over his eyes, watching the birds fly overhead.

With his mission reset in his mind, he looks up, seeing the nest close by, and only a little bit higher than he is. If he puts his foot right between those two forking branches, and shifts his weight just the right way and grabs onto that one branch at the right time, he’ll be able to look into the nest. He takes a deep breath and tries to focus. He plants his foot and shoots up next to the nest, grabs the branch, and shakes a leaf out of his face. When he opens his eyes he grins, and starts laughing.

He can see two little birds in the nest, and they’re ugly. Gray and fuzzy, pink bald heads, huge eyes barely open as wiggle around. He watches for a moment, wishing that he could reach out and pet one but listens to his mother’s warnings against doing such. He rebalances himself, shifting his weight onto a different foot, and almost stumbles. He gasps and catches himself quickly. He grins at how fast he was able to grab onto the branch but quickly realizes his mistake when he hears an angry squawk.

He had grabbed onto the branch with the nest, the branch strong enough not to move but his hand close enough to the nest to alert the mama bird, who had been somewhere close by the whole time. He gasps again, quickly letting go as the bird jumps closer to his hand, and starts yelling as he loses his balance enough with the surprise to start falling backwards. He hits the ground, hears a crack and the worst pain he’s ever felt shoot up his arm, and he screams until he hears his mom running out the back door.

***

He throws the biggest tantrum when the doctor, along with his parents, tell him that he isn’t allowed to play rough or run around or climb or do any of his favorite things for weeks. He doesn’t even know how long a week really is but it sounds like it might last forever, and he cries and kicks his legs the whole time they’re in the doctor’s office. It’s summer so all of his friends are going to be playing outside and riding their bikes and going swimming, and now he’s being told he can’t do any of that? It’s the most heartbreaking news a six year old could’ve gotten.

On the way home from the doctor, his parents drag him, still crying, and Laura, who’s just excited about all the fanfare, into an ice cream shop. They tell them to get whatever they want, and he orders at least four different flavors through his angry tears because he always orders for himself. He only stops crying when his dad sets down the huge paper cup of ice cream in front of him, a spoon shoved in it, and says, “Go crazy.”

After he eats until his stomach hurts his parents take him to the store, lead him to the video game section, and tell him to choose three new games. He picks fast, his Wii still so new that he only cares about getting games for that, and his eyes are completely dry by the time they get home that night.

It’s later that night that his parents tell him the news. They both come into his room to tuck him in for the night which is unusual, but he’s thrilled that he’s going to get double the attention, not even complaining like usual about Laura having a later bedtime than him. His dad sits in the big chair across from his bed, his mom settling down on the edge of his bed, both smiling at him.

“You did quite a number on yourself today, kid,” his dad starts, grinning while trying to maintain some kind of authority. His mom looks at his dad and smiles, holding back a laugh. He glares between the two, much less happy about their presence in his room if they’re just there to make fun of him.

“I just wanted to see the baby birds.” he mutters under his breath.

“Well, you have your binoculars for that,” his mom said quietly, placatingly, patting his leg, “and we have some news that might make you a bit more happy.”

He looks up at that, wondering what else his parents were going to give him. He’s no stranger to gifts and treats, but he thought that the new video games and the ice cream were going to be it. He smiles, excited for whatever else it is they have planned.

“Do you remember Mrs. Florenzi? From the restaurant?” his dad says, smiling at his mom again.

The restaurant. He frowns again, not wanting to get into the topic of his dad’s job. He doesn’t even understand what his dad does. All his other friends’ dads are lawyers, or doctors, or other big words that he doesn’t understand. His dad seems to just...own a lot of things. One of those things being his favorite restaurant, that he had purchased a few years earlier. His family went there a few times a month, and he could remember Mrs. Florenzi if he really focused. Long brown hair, kind eyes, always smiling when she sees him at a table. She’s a chef there but sometimes would sneak out of the kitchen to pinch his cheeks. He nods.

“Well, I don’t think we told you, but she has a son around your age, and she needs someone to look after him some days when she’s at work. Since I’m home, and already have two crazy kids running around,” his mom says, poking at him until he giggles, “why not take in a third?”

He tilts his head, thinking about that. He has friends, lots of them., but if he’s going to be stuck inside because of his arm, it might be fun to have a new kid around. Especially so he doesn’t have to go to Laura if he wants to play with someone else, because they fight as much as they get along. After a minute he smiles, says, “Okay!” and drops his head to his pillow as his parents laugh.

Having another boy around sounds like fun.

***

The next day, after breakfast when he’s wandering around his playroom trying to find something to do that was fun but wouldn’t cause his mom to tell him to settle down because of his arm, the doorbell rings. His head pops up, and he runs out of the room just in time to see his mom open the door.

Mrs. Florenzi is waiting on the other side, and he frowns, not seeing a kid with her. She’s smiling and greeting his mom, talking in that way that moms always do when they drop off or pick up their kids. He’s not shy, not in the slightest, but he hangs back a bit. He wants to know where this other boy is.

Mrs. Florenzi seems to notice him, and ducks down to wave, and he waves back, and then walks over and past his mom, and pushes his face out the door to look around. When the moms laugh he pulls back, kind of annoyed at that, and demands, “Where is he?”

The moms laugh again and he considers pulling the face that his mom always chides him for, pouting his lips out big and glaring so hard it makes his head hurt. He hates being laughed at by adults.

“Sorry honey, he’s a bit shy. Matteo, do you want to meet your new friend?”

That’s when he notices the small hand clutching desperately onto Mrs. Florenzi’s skirt. His mouth twists up a little; he doesn’t usually get along with shy kids. He finally sees a blond head poke out from around her, the face on it looking nervous but also a little excited. They stare at each other until Mrs. Florenzi shoves the kid in front of her.

He gets a good look. Matteo is small, scrawny even, and his shoulders are hunched in a bit, making him seem even smaller. His shoes are dirty which he hopes means that Matteo at least like playing outside, and the scratches on Matteo’s knees that match his own makes him even more hopeful. Matteo looks at him, tilting his head, not saying anything, and then he looks off to the side, his hand clenching in the hem of his shirt.

“Hi, Matteo,” his mom says, bending down so she can smile at Matteo, and then shoves him forward and introduces him.

She doesn’t do it right though. She never does. Nobody ever does. He scowls.

Mrs. Florenzi pushes Matteo forward again, into the house, and thanks his mom before leaving for the restaurant with a kiss to Matteo’s head, and something whispered in his ear. He watches the door after she leaves.

He hopes the kid doesn’t start crying.

His mom sends them off so she can do something in the kitchen, and he and Matteo look at each other. Matteo looks nervous almost, probably because of the fierce glare on his face, so he decides to clear that up before the other kid tries to say something.

“That’s not my name you know,” he says, and turns, making his way to the playroom because that’s always a good place to start with new friends, “I don’t have one.”

“You don’t have a name?” Matteo asks, his voice quiet, his face confused, “Then why did your mama call you that?”

He shrugs. Matteo looks uncomfortable with that answer.

“But- everyone has a name,” Matteo says as they reach the door of the playroom, his hand twitching at his side, looking up at the big door in front of them, “you have to. How am I gonna talk to you if you don’t have a name?”

He rolls his eyes, something his parents started scolding him for the second he learned how and when to do it, pushing into the playroom. Nobody really gets it. He shrugs again, and says, “I don’t know but if you call me that I’ll beat you up.”

Matteo’s eyes pop open and he looks nervous. He nods, pushing his arms out at his sides, twisting them in the air and then snapping them back down at his sides.

He nods back, glad that they got that conversation out of the way. He looks around the playroom when Matteo doesn’t say anything, trying to find something to do with this quiet boy who seems like the opposite kind of kid than he usually plays with.

“You have a Wii?” Matteo asks suddenly, pointing at the white console attached to the big TV in the room, his other hand twisting at his side. He’s smiling for the first time since he had come in, bouncing on his feet.

“Yeah!” he exclaims, hoping that Matteo would want to play video games with him because that’s always easy and Laura never wants to, “I got Smash Brothers when I broke my arm, do you wanna play?”

Matteo grins and nods, rocking up onto his toes and his hands flapping at his sides as the game is set up. They both settle in front of the screen in the special chairs his dad had bought for him and Laura, his a light blue (that again, he had to beg for), Laura’s a darker purple. Matteo starts rocking in the chair when he realizes that he can get the momentum to.

“I know!” Matteo calls out a little while later, after they had played enough of the game that they were joking around and laughing with each other, Matteo losing every round but having fun regardless, “We should have nicknames! I want to be Luigi!”

He snorts and asks, “Why Luigi? He’s not as cool as Mario!”

“He’s green, though, that’s my favorite color. I don’t like red.” Matteo says, shrugging and shaking his head, focused completely on the screen in front of them. He’s tapping his fingers on the controller in his hand, pressing buttons, selecting and deselecting his character.

He nods, looking at the character selection screen, thinking that if Matteo picked a Nintendo nickname, he needs to do the same. He considers a bunch of different characters before landing on one and smiling, and he turns to Matteo, proud even though Matteo doesn’t look at him.

“I’ll be Link!” he says, and Matteo turns to him, smiling just as wide.

“I like Link, he’s green too!” Matteo says, and turns back to the screen, starting the next round.

They play for hours. They switch between playing different video games and looking at Pokemon cards and playing dress up with the chest in the back corner and bothering his mom until she feeds them, and when the doorbell rings and his mom calls them both down, he thinks fast.

“Come on,” he whispers to Matteo as he grabs his arm and yanks him out of the playroom, “and don’t talk about my room.”

He opens the door and shoves Matteo in first, glancing down the stairs to see his mom standing at the door, talking to Mrs. Florenzi. Neither of them seemed to notice so he follows and closes the door quietly behind him. He tries to ignore the fact that Matteo is staring around at everything.

It’s not that his room is small, or boring, or that his bed is uncomfortable or that there are monsters hiding in his closet waiting to eat him (he’s too old to be scared of monsters). It’s just ugly. The wallpaper was put up before he was even born, when his parents first found out they were having another baby, and the pink and white flowers made his head hurt. There were lots of marks on the walls from balls he had thrown and toy rocket ships he had “launched into space”. The canopy draped over his bed was cool when he closed it, pretending that he was in a tent in the middle of a jungle, but any other time he despised it.

Matteo stands in the middle of the room, his head tilted back, staring at the ceiling above them. It’s covered in those little glow-in-the-dark stars and planets, something he had begged for after seeing it on TV once. Matteo seems to get lost in his own head, still staring up but spinning in slow circles around the floor. He turns to the door when they both hear a mom voice calling them down, and Matteo’s head whips back to him and he holds a finger over his mouth.

They hide as long as they can, quietly giggling, until his mom decides to check his room even though he almost never chooses to go in there, especially not with friends. Matteo looks like he’s going to cry when he’s escorted out with Mrs. Florenzi’s hand gently pulling his, and he waves bye as the moms reassure the two that they’ll see each other the next day. His mom closes the front door and turns to him with a smile.

“So, did you two have fun?” she asks, and instead of answering he runs into her legs and hugs them.

The next morning can’t come soon enough, and when the bell rings, he jumps up from the table to answer it, ignoring his mom yelling behind him that he needs to come pick his chair back up. He unlocks the front door (he doesn’t know if his parents know he can do that) and smiles at Mrs. Florenzi, who smiles back and pinches his cheek. She greets him and he frowns at the name.

Matteo runs past her into the house, his face bright, and they run up the stairs and into the playroom before they even say hi to each other. He can hear the moms laughing fondly behind them, and he closes the door to shut them back into the little world they had created around them the day before.

“Hi Link.” Matteo giggles, a hand over his mouth like he’s sharing in a secret, and he kind of is.

“Hi Luigi,” he says back, unable to stop his own giggles from escaping, and then points to the TV and asks, “wanna play more?”

Matteo nods enthusiastically, spinning in a circle before flopping into the same chair he had sat in the day before. He starts setting the game up like usual, but frowns when he turns the TV on and doesn’t see the usual black screen with words on it that he could read if he cared enough to.

“What’s wrong? Why isn’t it working?” Matteo asks, and he looks over, and Matteo is staring at the screen, his eyebrows drawn down. He gets up, walking closer to the screen, examining it like he could figure out how to fix it. His hands come up and start rubbing at his arms as he squints.

“My stupid sister did something and then didn’t fix it,” he muttered, and Matteo’s head whipped to him, a surprised smile on his face.

“That’s a bad word, you can’t say that!” he scolds, but he looks secretly pleased.

“I know all the bad words,” says, smirking, proud of that, “even the really bad grown-up ones.”

Matteo looks at him, awe on his face, and he starts bouncing and says, “Wow, I think you’re the coolest friend I have!”

He grins, puffs up his chest a bit. He knows he’s cool, but hasn’t ever been called the coolest before. He’s going to have to make Matteo say it again in front of Laura.

Remembering his sister, he frowns again. He thinks that Laura may have watched a DVD and then not fixed the TV after, and he doesn’t know how to make it the Wii again. He has to either go ask her to change it, or find his mom.

“I have to go get my sister,” he says to Matteo, and then points off to the cabinet containing the Pokemon cards they had looked through the day before, “you can look at those but be careful, they’re fragile.” He doesn’t really know if they are but he had heard his dad call important things that before.

Matteo nods and he walks out of the room, running down the hall to Laura’s room. He isn’t in the mood to talk to his sister when he already has a friend over, especially a friend who thinks he’s cool, but he kicks her door a couple times, bangs on it with his fist, and yells, “Laura!”

He keeps up the noise until the door is wrenched open. Laura is already glaring, her curly hair frizzed around her face making her look even angrier, and he just grins when she crosses her arms over her chest, scowling at him.

“What do you want?” She asks, sneering, and he puts a frown on his face to match hers.

“You messed up the TV, and I have my new friend over, and we can’t play video games!” he sneers, crossing his own arms over his chest, “You need to fix it!”

“Ugh, fine,” she says, and stalks out of her room, shoving past him to get to the playroom. He clenches his fists and follows after her. She closes the playroom door in his face just as he gets to it, and he smacks it with his fist before yanking it open with a growl.

He sees Matteo pressed against the wall on the other side of the room. It seems like Laura hasn’t even noticed him, as she’s focused on the TV, but Matteo’s eyes are wide. He looks towards the door and places a hand flat against the wall.

“Laura, this is my super cool new friend Matteo,” he says, pointing to the boy cowering against the wall, who only presses himself more into it, “Matteo, this is my stupid ugly sister Laura.”

He smiles when Laura shrieks and throws down the chord she was holding, and runs out of the room, yelling behind her, “I’m telling mom!”

He turns to Matteo, who’s still against the wall, but with Laura gone he looks a little less tense. He puts a finger on his lips and waves Matteo over, and once he’s close enough he grabs his hand and whispers, “Come on, we have to go hide now.”

He tugs on Matteo’s hand and quickly, quiety leads him down the stairs. He doesn’t know where his mom is but he can hear Laura stomping around upstairs so he figures they’re safe for a bit. He can see his mom washing dishes at the sink, her back to the hallway that led to the basement, and he tugs again.

They get to the door and he slowly opens it, trying to avoid the loud creak. Once he gets it open as silently as he can, he turns to Matteo and is about to tell him to follow, but as he takes a step down onto the first stair, Matteo’s hand twists out of his.

“No,” he says, stepping back, shaking his head, rubbing at his arms again, “I- I don’t like the dark. I can’t go in basements.”

He grabs for Matteo’s wrist to try and drag him down anyway, but Matteo rips his arm away and wraps it behind his back fast. He glares, and is about to complain and whine and whisper that they need to hurry up because Laura is coming down the stairs, but Matteo glares back at him. He’s wants to argue but instead he rolls his eyes and pushes Matteo back, and then walks past him to the back door.

He pulls it open and runs outside, not even waiting to see if Matteo is following, because Matteo isn’t going to get in trouble if they’re caught. He runs until he finds what he’s looking for, the large shed in their backyard that housed various tools of his father’s and larger toys and bikes and such of his and Laura’s. He puts a hand on the doorknob, and then finally turns, and sees Matteo a little ways behind him. He decides to be nice and take extra long to get the door open.

He can suddenly hear his mom calling for him. His eyes widen and he tugs Matteo inside, who doesn’t seem happy at David’s hand on him so he lets go as soon as he can close the door. He puts a finger over his lips again, and even though Matteo looks mad at him he does the same.

He leads him to the back of the shed where there’s an old playhouse that his dad had built for him and Laura. The only reason it’s in the shed is because he, not loving the colors his parents had chosen for it, decided to splash a can of old black paint he found in his basement all over the exterior walls. He had gotten in trouble for that, but a new playhouse was in it’s spot the next week, a light blue one instead of the pink and purple that the original had been. He opens the door, quickly checks around for bugs or mice, and, seeing a clean enough space, steps inside.

Matteo looks around before hesitantly walking in behind him. He isn’t used to having friends as sensitive as Matteo seems to be, and he reminds himself of the words his mom would sometimes say to him when he’s getting frustrated at someone else, when he’s being too stubborn to think about how someone else might be feeling. His own brain is still a little too interesting to himself, all the thoughts and feelings that come so quickly and leave just as fast, and he sometimes needs to be reminded that other people have their own different, interesting brains.

“We can hide here for a little bit,” he whispers, and then noticing Matteo staring down at the ground, shoulders hunched like the first time he saw him, “are you okay Luigi?”

Matteo looks up, twisting the ends of his shirtsleeves around his fingers.

*** PART TWO

David’s high school graduation present is top surgery. Nothing about it is a surprise due to all of the meetings and consultations and doctor’s visits he needs to complete before they can do the surgery, but it goes by fast enough, probably due to his father’s presence. Or more his father’s money’s presence. He knows that he’s lucky, and can barely even remember the annoying process by the time he’s out of surgery, and on his way to healing again.

They had scheduled everything so he’d be able to go back to school on time, still finishing up the last of his recovery, but healed enough to do the rest of it on his own. As someone who already had a lot of confidence, getting top surgery makes David feel like he’s on top of the world.

His parents take him on a huge shopping trip before he goes, order him everything he adds to his college wishlist on Amazon, and help him pack up his car when it’s time for him to leave. They hug him goodbye, reminding him to be safe, and smart, and to focus on his work but also to have fun, and to call them if he needs money or food or anything. He waves them on and hugs them both quick, too excited to start this next phase of his life to stay and chat long. He gets in his car, starts the engine, and laughs hysterically as he pulls out of the long driveway.

And of course, he thrives there. Being raised in the family he was, he knows how to network, how to get himself out there in the exact ways he wants. The first person he meets is his roommate Jonas, a nice guy around his height with curly brown hair. They bond quickly over the fact that they both brought tons of music posters to hang around the room, and Jonas doesn’t even blink at the trans flag he places in a cup of pens on his desk. He’s perfect.

His classes are easy for him, and more fun than he expected, even the ones not relating to his major. He speaks well, has always been a good student, and gets on all his professor’s radars within the first few weeks with how articulate and insightful he is. He jokingly thinks to himself after getting praised one class for his eloquence, thank god for private school.

He joins as many clubs as he can, too. One for photography, making a note to look for the nice camera he had gotten one Hannukah, some kind of club that he ends up dropping because all of the other guys in it are the type of film bro that David always swears to never become. He also joins LGBT clubs, one for trans people specifically and one more general, and blushes when he’s asked to join the Burlesque club, turning the invitation down with a pleased smile. He makes friends fast through all the clubs, quickly finding people in each of the little niches he was forcing himself into. He tells all of this to Amira with a proud grin that falls the second she decides to start calling him Mr. Popular.

There are other things he does well in, up at school. He’s a little put off at first, how quickly people are to come up to him with small, private smiles already on their faces, touching his shoulder and laughing even when he doesn’t say something funny. The people who would squish themselves up against him at meetings, or put a hand on his arm to ask him a question about something in class. He can’t say he minds the attention at all, feel a little bit in his own cocky way like some prince with suitors parading around his castle doors. It only goes to his head a bit.

That stops a couple months in, when he starts actually noticing the girl in one of his only non-film classes that had been making eyes at him since the first week. Their professor always has the class sit in a circle to “better facilitate discussion” or whatever, after David notices her looking at him, a small smile on her face with her eyebrows raising when she sees him noticing her,, and they spend the rest of that class, raising their eyebrows at each other and smiling, daring the other not to laugh.

David catches her on the way out of class a week later, and finds out that her name is Amelia, finds out that she has one dimple on her left cheek that gets bigger when she laughs, and finally finds out that yes, she’d love to get lunch with him. She has hair that she tells him she dyed the mixture of greens and blues one night when she was drunk off of a bottle of wine and found her roommate’s leftover dye in their bathroom. She

When David gets back after his first year is over, he feels accomplished. He had done fantastic in all his classes, had clubs and friends to return to once the next year started, and as he drives home, music blasting in his car, he realizes he’s excited to have some time off.

When he gets back both of his parents are waiting by the door to greet him, proud smiles on their faces as he tells them about finals, and how much he misses his friends and Jonas and his girlfriend, that he’s definitely going to be inviting some of them to the house over the summer, and that he needs a new pair of headphones because he lost his good ones in the chaos of moving out. He feels like he’s rambling, but he’s excited to see his parents and actually talk to them again.

They tell him that they want to take him out to dinner to celebrate him finishing his first year and doing so well, and he runs up to his room to get changed at their insistence. He would’ve been happy just staying at home, ordering something from the local Mexican place that he’s been missing, but he know if they have an idea for something more celebratory he won’t be able to stop them. That’s confirmed when his dad calls up the stairs that they have a reservation at the most expensive restaurant in his town.

He gets into the backseat of his dad’s truck, buckling himself in and quickly taking his phone out. He wants to see his friends as soon as he can, and had promised to text Amira when he got home. He opened his conversation with her and started typing.

David: Hey, sorry I didn’t text sooner, my parents wanted to take me out and they’ve barely given me time to breathe

As he waits for a response, he realizes that he should probably text his girlfriend, too. He snorts at himself for not thinking about it and opens his messages with Amelia.

David: I’m back!! You’re probably still driving so keep your eyes on the road and text me when you’re home <3

He gets a text from Amira just as it sends, and he switches back to that conversation.

Amira: Ah yes, your best friend is much less important than a fancy dinner David: 🙄

He was going to send more but before he can, his mom sighs, and he hears, “Oh look, we haven’t gone there in so long!”

He picks his head up and looks out the window in the direction she’s staring, and they’re at a red light so David has time to realize that it’s the restaurant his dad owns. He tilts his head, biting the inside of his cheek, and goes back to texting Amira, and checks to see if Amelia responded.

“Maybe we can go another night,” his dad says, turning his head just enough to catch David’s eye over the back of his seat, “we need somewhere fancier, our son just finished his first year of university with straight A’s!”

David smiles before casting one more look out at the restaurant as his dad starts driving again, and once it disappears from sight he turns back to his phone. He doesn’t like to think much about the restaurant, though he knows the reason they haven’t gone in a while. He doesn’t like to think much about that reason, either.

After Matteo was sent to live in Italy, David had a rough time dealing with it. He had lost his best friend, the one person he could talk to about all of the new and terrifying thoughts that were just beginning to drift through his head, he lost him before he even had a real name for him to know. He was angry, at the world for taking him Matteo away, and then at his parents for refusing to let him talk to Mrs. Florenzi about it.

“You don’t understand,” they said to him one night, after he had gotten so frustrated he had kicked a hole through his door and thrown everything off the desk in his room, “yes, you lost your best friend, but she doesn’t have her son with her anymore. If you ask her about him it’ll just make it worse. We know you miss him, but this is for the best.”

He didn’t talk to them for weeks. After about a week of complete silence in the house Laura stormed into his room with the intent to yell at him over something, and it all boiled over. He started crying the second her glare focused on him, and then he started talking. He told her about how Matteo was the only person who understood him, didn’t question what he did or said or called himself, just offered support and companionship no matter what. Through his tears, in a shaky voice, he explained to her that he was a boy, that it was okay if she didn’t want to talk to him anymore but he couldn’t deal with only one person knowing, especially if he didn’t have that person anymore.

She had sat on the edge of his bed and listened, nodding along until David could breathe again. She thanked him, told him that it was okay that he was angry, and asked if he had a name he wanted her to call him. He had hung his head, ashamed that his answer was no. She had nodded at that too, and said, “Well, we’ll find one then.”

David sighs at the memories that had come flooding back at the sight of the old, slightly dilapidated restaurant, and texts another friend. His dad orders a bottle of wine at dinner and pours David glass after glass, until his mom cuts him off with a tipsy laugh of her own, and he’s smiling with red cheeks when they leave later that night, stumbling to the car on steady legs as his parents laugh fondly at his state.

He collapses into bed that night with an urge he hadn’t felt in a couple of years. He takes his phone out and unlocks it after a couple of tries, ignoring the messages from Amira from earlier and opening Instagram. He gets distracted commenting on a friend’s post, but then goes to the search page and hesitates before typing in Matteo Florenzi.

He’s done it before, of course, tried to find him on every new social media site that popped up over the years, and he’s never found anything. That’s why he sits back up in his bed, his jaw dropping open as he sees an account called matteohno, and sees the profile picture, sees that he can almost recognize the face in the tiny circle, and he clicks it.

There are more pictures than he expects. He scrolls to the bottom, trying not to get ahead of himself, and clicks on the first picture he sees. It’s tagged with the name of some restaurant, as far as he can tell, and Matteo is in frame, David can tell it’s him. He has the same button nose, same floppy, dirty blond hair, same half smile on his face like he’s waiting for the right time to let a full one out. David lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

He scrolls through all of the pictures, his heart tightening each time Matteo is in them. The memories that have always been hard to think about, of a little boy, sensitive, quiet, happily following David’ lead, were especially hard to reconcile with these new pictures. Matteo looks like he’s grown into himself, more confident in himself or his abilities, David doesn’t know, but it makes him smile and send a pang of something through his chest.

There are pictures of food, and Matteo alone, and Matteo with random other people, all the captions in Italian so David can only guess what they say. He stops when he sees one, Matteo and some other young looking guy, their arms draped over each other’s shoulder as they laugh and each hold up a rainbow flag.

He locks his phone on the image, feeling something strange and nostalgic twist up in his gut, and drops his head onto his pillow. He closes his eyes, thinking back to days full of running through his backyard, hiding from angry parents and talking more deeply about life than kids should be able to.

He wakes up the next day, mid afternoon, with his head pounding and his phone buzzing with a FaceTime call from Jonas.

“Hey, man, is this your shirt?” Jonas asks, and David squints at his screen to see button down shirt he’s holding up, “I think it got lost in all my shit.”

“Uh, maybe?” David says rubbing a hand over his eyes. He blinks them open again and sees Jonas on his screen, smiling knowingly.

“Too much fun celebrating with the parents, huh?”

David flips him off.

“Okay, okay, love you too bro,” Jonas says, chuckling, and then continues, “I have to go though, I just found out that one of my old friends is coming back from Italy this week, I need to call him and yell at him for not telling me.”

David feels his face drop, but puts a smile back on and says goodbye before Jonas hangs up.

#this was a cute one omg i love them #davenzi

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hidden-otaku-stuff · 3 years

Text

Different but the Same (pt. 17)

tw: sex, knotting, marking, cursing, insecurities/anxiety, praise, mentions of rough/degrading sex, mentions of guilt/fighting, discussion about consent

Word count: 6.5k

Rating: R18+/M

Omegaverse AU, Rating: 18+/M

Pairings: Iwaizumi x fem!reader, Ushijima x fem!reader

Summary: An unexpected encounter at the Inter-High tournament tossed you into a whirlwind. Being tugged between two males, two different packs, who will reign supreme in this battle for your heart?

Masterlist | prev | next

ch. 17: Honesty Hours

The golden light filtered through the curtains and bathed her face, causing her eyes to flutter open. An arm tightened around her waist, pulling her closer into the muscular chest that vibrated against her back. “Good morning princess,” he rasped, a deep baritone as his own sleepy eyes peeled open. His warm breath tickled the shell of her ear.

“Haji,” she purred, turning slightly so that she could bury her face into his chest. Iwaizumi chuckled, voice husky as a hand carded through her locks.

“Sleep ok?”

The opening of the door surprised Iwaizumi as he glanced up from his dinner, the familiar scent of strawberry filling the room as he stood abruptly - chair screeching as it dragged against the floor.

“You’re back.”

“Haji.” She beamed back at him.

His heart stuttered. “I would have picked you up if I knew that you were coming back tonight.”

(Name) shrugged, “I didn’t wanna wait for you, I just wanted to be back.” The words ‘with you’ hung over them.

Iwaizumi’s brown eyes scanned her figure, taking note of the lack of new marks, though the stench of mountains still lingered. He swallowed, nodding. As she opened her mouth, he held up a hand. “I know you’re tired, baby. Why don’t you go shower, and meet me in the nest? We’ll talk about it later.”

Relief filled her features as she bit her bottom lip. “Are you sure?”

Iwaizumi swallowed his reservations, nodding. She had returned to him as she had promised, and for now, he’ll have to accept that.

He spent the rest of the night holding her close to him, hoping to completely saturate her with his scent. Not quite ready to give her up just yet.

(Name) nodded, eyes shutting as she took in his warm embrace - the scent comforting her. This was how she preferred to wake up: in Iwaizumi’s arms, surrounded by his love as they cuddled in their nest.

“I’m glad. We have a fun day planned ahead, baby. We need to get ready soon.”

“No.” She snuggled deeper into his chest.

“No?”

Iwaizumi chuckled again as Omega’s lips jutted out against his left pectoral.

“Can we cuddle longer?” She asked childishly, peeking up into his face. (Name) admired the way the sun highlighted the golden flecks in his brown eyes. Iwaizumi nodded, a hand slipping under the shirt she had stolen from him as it gently gripped her hip.

“Of course, princess. Anything for you.”

*****

“Ah, Haji!” She grinned, spinning towards him. The long woolen sweater swaying with the movements. (Name) was wearing an oversized wool sweater paired with some leggings and boots. Iwaizumi was wearing a woolen button-up with dark blue jeans. He grinned at (Name) before they looked around their surroundings.

They were standing outside the Sendai Aquarium, a place that (Name) had grown up visiting as a child before her parents moved away and before she started high-school. It had been ages since she had last visited.

“Oh Haji, you’d have so much fun!” Her eyes sparkled as she fell into the depths of her memories. “They have all types of awesome marine animals, and their dolphin show was so fun!”

“Is that right?”

They were sitting at the kitchen table, working on homework assignments. (Name) had been doing research on marine animals for her science class, which is what spurred on the topic of the local aquarium. Iwaizumi watched with fascination as her expression filled with such wonder as she flitted through the various photos. His brown eyes darted down to the date before opening a private window on his laptop.

As he viewed the options for extra packages, he glanced back up at his mate.

Anything to make the love of his life happy.

“You’re the absolute best,” (Name) squealed as she flung herself into his arms.

Iwaizumi chuckled, swinging her slightly before gently placing her down. “Just wait until you see what else I have planned.”

Her eyes widened, “really?”

Iwaizumi threw his arm around her shoulder as they walked into the aquarium, “Really, really.”

He couldn’t help but watch in awe as she led him through the aquarium, following the dimly lit paths as they visited exhibit after exhibit. They had a wonderful morning after their extended cuddle session.

“Haji!” she protested, pouting. “Let me help!”

As she reached for the chopsticks, Iwaizumi smacked her knuckles. “No, this is your birthday and I will spoil my mate,” he scolded, eyes flashing dangerously.

(Name) pouted, crossing her arms as she plopped back onto her seat - her legs swinging. “C’mon, you don’t have to do all that. What happened to being partners and mates before all else?”

“Yeah we are partners and mates before all else,” Iwaizumi agreed, stirring the eggs in the pan. “But that means that I’m allowed to spoil you whenever I see fit, so take the spoiling!”

She rolled her eyes, watching patiently as Iwaizumi finished the rolled eggs. It was definitely a different experience to see Iwaizumi taking over her kitchen, though it wasn’t an unwelcome change. It made her heart flutter to see how hard her mate worked in order to treat her, even if it was just for her birthday. Iwaizumi laid out the bowls and plates down in front of her, setting down the grilled salmon in front of her accompanied by the rolled eggs, pickled salad, agedashi tofu, and a bowl of miso soup and rice. A small plate of steamed gyoza sat in between them for them to share. (Name) giggled, of course Iwaizumi would include his favourite food for breakfast.

“What?”

“Nothing baby.”

Iwaizumi’s gaze softens as he takes his seat beside her, holding her hand and brushing his lips against her knuckles. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Haji.” She picked up her chopsticks, playfully tapping them together. “This looks so yummy, thank you, baby.”

“Anything for you.”

A soft smile breaches Iwaizumi's face. He glanced at his watch. “Hey baby, let’s make our way back to the stadium, yeah?”

Her face drops slightly as her eyebrows furrowed. “Oh uh, sure?” They had just been about to visit the Oceania exhibit where the fairy penguins were.

She followed his lead as he gently escorted her to the stadium, fighting back to suppress the excitement that throttled his body and pulsed through her mark. “Haji?” she asked, her free hand covering the mark slightly. “Why are you so excited?”

“Shh, you’ll see in a second.” They entered the stadium where Iwaizumi had her stop for a moment. “I’ll be right back. Stay here.”

“Alright.”

(Name) watched curiously as Iwaizumi went up to the staff before returning with a massive grin. The pangs of his anticipation got harder to ignore. “C’mon.”

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on now?”

“Ta-da!”

With a splash of water, a dolphin hopped onto the flat surface of the floor right beside the water-side.

“Oh my gosh!” (Name) gasped as the dolphins squealed at her.

“Happy birthday, princess.”

“Miss, come with me.” One of the employees stepped forward, extending a hand for (Name).

“Oh okay!” She glanced between Iwaizumi, the employee, and the dolphin - barely able to restrain her own excitement. Iwaizumi watched with crossed arms as (Name) sat beside the dolphin, her eyes widening with unadulterated joy as she was guided to gently stroke the smooth and rubbery skin.

“You can sit with her, sir.”

Iwaizumi glanced at the employee, giving them a short nod. “Thank you.” He squatted down beside her, letting one of his arms fall around her waist as they posed for pictures with the dolphin. He couldn’t wait to see how the photos from today would turn out.

As they walked away from the stadium, (Name) threw herself into Iwaizumi’s arms. “Haji! That was so cool! I’ve always wanted to do that.”

Iwaizumi chuckled, holding her tight. “I’m glad you enjoyed it, babe.”

“You’re the absolute best,” she sniffed, burying her face into his shoulder.

“You say that, but the surprises aren’t over yet,” he smirked mischievously.

“I feel like my heart is going to give out with all of these surprises,” she mumbles, shaking her head slightly.

“I promise, you’ll like it.”

“I know I will. That’s why I’m not ready,” she replied looking up at him with semi-glossy eyes. “Thank you. Really. Thank you so much for making this the best birthday a girl could ask for.”

Iwaizumi cupped her face. “You’re the love of my life. My mate. My soulmate. I won’t accept anything but the best for you, alright?” He pressed his lips to her forehead before straightening up, slipping his hand into hers. “Now c’mon, let’s take you to your other surprise, yeah?”

He brings her back to the Plaza of Marine Animals, just outside of The Seas of the World exhibit they had just been at before they had left to interact with the dolphins. Iwaizumi double-checked his watch once more.

Right on time.

The staff members grinned, waving at Iwaizumi, recognising him. He had gone to visit the aquarium weeks ago with the rest of the Seijoh third-years in order to see the various programs and to see what would be best for (Name)’s birthday present.

“Hi Iwaizumi-kun. Are you and your mate ready?”

“Yes we are,” he affirmed, squeezing her hand. (Name) looked curiously at them, tilting her head slightly.

“What are we doing?”

The employees looked at one another before handing her a bucket. Her eyes widened, making the connection as they led them to the penguin exhibit. “Oh my god, Haji!” She squealed, tears really threatening to overwhelm her now. “Are we-?”

“Well, you never shut up about penguins so I figured you might like to feed them sometime.” Iwaizumi shrugged slightly, hiding his own smile as her entire expression lit up. Her happiness warmed him like the sun on a summer’s afternoon, completely bathing him as if he was a cat sunning itself.

(Name) squealed, trembling in sheer excitement as she made her way along the glass before setting into the opened gate. “Aw, look at you dapper little fellows,” she cooed before she offered them their fish.

The employees snapped photos of them together. A photo of the penguins cuddling up and swarming around her legs as (Name) giggled. Iwaizumi crouched by the penguins, a hand extended to offer a fish to the penguin.

“Haji look!” (Name) gasped, pointing at the penguins who dove back into the water after getting a fish. Baby penguins sauntered out of their den, ruffling their fluffy feathers. “They’re so small!”

“Just as small as you,” Iwaizumi teased, eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Haji!” She pouted, nudging his shoulder with her knee.

“You can get your photos at the front.” The employee informed them as the couple took the last of the fish. “Thank you for supporting our aquarium, I hope you have a wonderful day.”

“Thank you so much!”

The duo bowed before they made their way to the restrooms to wash their hands.

“Oh Haji, this was so much fun, thank you so much.” Her eyes brimmed with unshed tears as she peered up at her mate, heart racing. After years of being together, and many, many dates, this had to be her all-time favourite.

“Just wait, there’s more,” Iwaizumi smiled, a hand settling on her hips.

*****

The couple arrived safely home, Iwaizumi closing the door behind him as (Name) shyly looked away. After the fun at the aquarium, the couple had gone to a cafe where Iwaizumi had surprised her with a class on how to make peach nerikiri. From there, the couple had journeyed home.

This was it.

This was the moment.

Turning to face her mate, she was surprised to find him standing right in front of her, his hand tilting her face up to his. Minty breath fanned across her lips before he captured them with his own. She could faintly taste the peach from the sweets they had made earlier.

“Wait.” She put her hands onto Iwaizumi’s chest. “Before we get started...do you wanna help me make my nest?”

Iwaizumi’s eyes widened, his arms falling around her waist. “Really?”

(Name) blinked shyly at him, nodding. “It’d feel right. If we had a nest.” He scooped her into his arms, pulling her into a kiss as he carried her towards the room.

“It would, wouldn’t it?” He purred, nosing the mark he’d placed on her. She reciprocated his movements, placing open-mouthed kisses on the spot where her mark would go; her chest vibrated as her purrs met his. “Now, let’s build a nest, shall we?”

Iwaizumi pulled away, his brown eyes sparkling as he looked at his perfect mate. She nodded, affectionately nipping his neck before springing out of his arms. Iwaizumi shivered with pleasure, eyes squeezing shut before he opened them to the sight of his Omega grabbing her nesting blankets from her closet.

“What should I do?”

“Can you grab the other blankets in the closet and scent them for me?” She climbed onto her bed, neatly arranging the blankets. Iwaizumi did as she asked, excitement spiking through him.

In all of their years of courting, she had never before asked him to help her with a nest. Sure he’s been in her nest before, and definitely scented things for her, but never helped her make it. The act of it now felt so much more intimate than he had expected. The room filled with a flurry of pine and strawberry clashing as Iwaizumi moved to hand her the freshly scented items. The Omega pressed them to her face, letting out a satisfied chirp at the scent, before she padded them into the nest. “Can I get your volleyball stuff too?” She turned, lip jutting out.

“You don’t have to pout like that ‘Mega, you know I’d give it to you if you ask. I’d give you the world if that's what you wanted.” Iwaizumi chuckled, grabbing his duffel and pulling out his volleyball jerseys. “Sorry, I’ve washed them since I used them.”

He tried to hand them to her only for her to push his hand back, his eyebrows quirking up. “Scent.” His deep baritone laugh filled the air as he complied.

As soon as he was finished, she yanked it out of his hands, patting it into the nest. With a satisfied trill, she jumped in, disappearing from sight. Iwaizumi stood beside it, waiting patiently as he listened to her happy chirps as she rolled around in it, unseen. Her head popped up, beaming as bright as the afternoon sun. “You can come in, Haji.”

With a soft purr, he pounced. Diving in, he was quick to wrap his arms around his little Omega. She squealed, curling up into him as he started scenting her. “My beautiful mate,” he breathed, decorating her face with kisses. The setting sunlight trickled in, bathing her in a pool of golden light. Iwaizumi’s eyes sparkled as he took in her beauty, heart fluttering. His hands rested on either side of her head, propping himself up. “I can’t believe you’re mine.”

Brown eyes roamed her face before settling on her mark.

His mark.

His Alpha howled with excitement.

“I’m yours, Haji. Always have been.” Soft hands found his face, cupping it as she leaned up. Her scent consumed him as tender lips met. Gently at first, until the fire of desire overtook them. His tongue traced her lips only for her to eagerly part them, her breath coming as low pants.

A hand slipped under her shirt, tracing small circles into her hip as his fingers tightened his grip. “I love you so much baby,” he whispered against her plush lips, peppering kiss after kiss as the fire raged through his body. “So much.”

“Haji, I love you,” (Name) gasped, pulling back. Her eyes blown out with desire and lust. “Please, I need you.” Her hips rolled up, meeting his as her neck tilted to the side, exposing the mark up to him. “I’m yours, Alpha.”

Iwaizumi’s eyes darkened as the sight of his mark filled his vision. His breath catches as his hand comes up to cup her neck, the other sliding down and tugging at the bottom of her shirt. “Take it off,” he demanded, licking his lips - his eyes not leaving the mark.

(Name) purred, scooting back slightly before tearing the shirt off her body. Her fingers tugged at Iwaizumi’s shirt, whining as she glared at the offending material. Iwaizumi’s lips found her mark, gently nibbling on it as his arms reached down to strip the shirt off.

“You’re so beautiful,” Iwaizumi breathed, inhaling deeply against her mark. “My pretty mate. Mine.”

“I’m yours,” she whimpered.

Iwaizumi ripped down her leggings, tossing them onto the floor out of his way before he pushed off his own dark-blue jeans. He settled between her legs, the scent of their arousal thick in the air and clashing.

(Name) whimpered, pressing her hips up against his, slick escaping her.

“Lemme take care of you baby,” Iwaizumi cooed, nibbling on the side of her neck as he stroked his hard cock.

“Please,” she gasped, jolting as he tapped the head of his cock against her clit.

His hips rolled against hers as he pushed himself forward, lips frantically capturing hers. His tongue slipped into her mouth just as his dick sunk in - welcoming him home. Soft, breathy moans met his baritone grunts as she clenched on his cock. “Fuck baby, just like that,” Iwaizumi cursed, sucking on her bottom lip. “Fuck you’re so tight.”

“Feel so good, Haji,” she whimpered, her hands scrambling to grab onto whatever she could until they settled on his biceps. He hissed as her nails dug in, the pleasure overwhelming him. Her velvet walls caressed his dick as he slowly pushed his way in. “So big,” she moaned. Iwaizumi waited patiently as he bottomed out, the tip just kissing her cervix. He leaned closer, a hand gliding up her back as he held her close to him, leaving a trail of goose-bumps.

Hot, open-mouthed kisses were pressed along the column of her throat. Iwaizumi sucked on her flesh, littering the flesh with darkened marks. Her arms came to rest around his chest under his arms, letting her nails scrap his back. Fingers tapped his back twice, “you can move now Alpha,” she whispered, nosing along his collarbone and planting her own desperate kisses.

During her heats or his ruts, they were prone to having rough, aggressive sex where he would spit on, slap, and spank her for hours, chasing orgasm after orgasm until they’d both nearly collapsed. He took it slowly this time, enjoying the sensation of each movement as he held her tightly against him.

“I love you so much baby. Never wanna hurt you.” Iwaizumi lapped at the love-bite he had just left on her chest. She whimpered under his caress. Iwaizumi chuckled softly under his breath as he felt her pussy pulse around him. After so much practice, he knew (Name)’s body like the back of his hand. He knew exactly how to position himself, how to hold her, and just how much pressure he needed to bring her to the brink and back. He was hers, and she was his and moments like this just proved how well their souls were meant to be.

But if all those times were just fucking, then he wanted this to be the time he made love to his mate. This time was special after all - it would be their first time they would have sex since he’s marked her.

Where she would finally place her mark on him.

Electricity shot through his spine at the mere thought.

Finally, he would be able to claim her as fully his - just as he was fully hers from mind, body, and spirit.

“Please baby, I wanna make you cum on my cock,” Iwaizumi moaned, his nose nudging hers as his eyes squeezed shut. “Make you fall apart on me, wouldn’t you like that, pretty girl?” A sharp thrust had him pressing against her cervix again. He shuddered, his orgasm creeping up on him. “(Name),” he choked out, eyes snapping to her face. She made the prettiest faces when she was falling apart under him. It was a sight that he would never tire of. Nothing could compare to the unbridled pleasure of having his mate in his arms.

Her eyes snapped open, anxiety squeezing her heart. “Yes, Hajime?”

“Tell me you love me.” His brown eyes glistened as a glimmer of hesitation graced them.

“Haji, I love you. I love you so much.” She cupped his face. “I never want to be without you, ever.” Frantic kisses decorated his face, his chest, anything she could reach. “I’m yours,” she whispered, leaning up to nose his scent gland.

He let out a stifled moan, shivering under her touch as another wave of pleasure swept over him. “Mark me baby.” His nose brushed against his mark, sending sparks through her. Her pussy clenched onto him.

She pressed a kiss to his gland, licking her dry lips. “Together,” she breathed. His cock twitched at the suggestion. “Wanna be yours,” (Name) murmured, hands tracing along his jaws delicately in contrast to the aggressive way his hips met hers. “Forever.”

“Always, baby,” Iwaizumi promised, sweat dripping down his forehead. He leaned forward, exposing his gland to her as he nosed along her mark. (Name)’s jaw opened, canines pressing lightly down onto his flesh. Iwaizumi shuddered, groaning at the brief contact, thrusting forward and grinding his dick deeper against her cervix. Delicately placing his teeth onto her mark again, he brought them to the brink. One of his hands slipped down, messily rubbing circles onto the sensitive bud while the other gripped the back of her neck.

With one final thrust, her walls fluttered so deliciously around him.

As his orgasm surged forward like a raging flame, his teeth sunk into her flesh, bonding them together once more. Iwaizumi’s eyes rolled back as she placed her mark onto him. An explosion of lights flickered behind his eyelids, every nerve burning as pleasure raged through him.

“Haji!” She cried, pulling back.

Red coated her teeth as tears flowed down her cheeks. (Name) placed delicate kitten-licks over the mark, body quivering under him as wave after wave of pleasure washed over her.

“Fuck,” Iwaizumi’s body seized up, ropes of cum coating her walls. His movements slowed to languid thrusts, his knot swelling and locking them together. “I love you, (Name),” Iwaizumi panted, licking away the last traces of blood from his marking.

“I love you too, Haji,” she whimpered under him, eyes fluttering shut as her head fell back onto the bed. He pulled away, wiping the blood away from his lips before he captured her lips with us. He’d never cum as hard as he did when she’d marked him, and based on the wetness between them, she’d felt the same way. “You’re stuck with me for life,” (Name) teased, bright eyes looking up at him.

“I’m okay with that.”

*****

“I was really scared I’d lose you.”

A pang shot through her as a wave of sadness slipped through the mark. She shifted, tilting her head up to look at her mate. They were still laying in the nest, his arm around her waist holding her flush against him.

“Ever since middle school, girls would go out of their way to become my friend or show interest in me, only to go behind my back and confess to Oikawa.” A scoff left his lips. “I was so fucking happy when we met at that volleyball game.”

A tug, and she was on top of him, legs intertwined with his. Their eyes met, and she could just see her reflection in his glassy eyes. A sigh left his lips, the warm air fanning across her cheeks.

“Finally I could have something that was mine. I couldn’t catch myself from falling for you.” Calloused fingers reached up to tuck her hair behind her ear. His eyes closed, and she buried her face into the crook of his neck, pressing her lips gently to their mark. “And then that asshole messed around with you, and I thought that I had lost the only person who was supposed to be mine.”

The wave intensified, becoming a current that they were being dragged out into. His grip tightened while his scent burned.

“You were so defenseless and I just felt so helpless. I couldn’t protect you, and I was worried that you’d leave me because of it.” Droplets rained onto her skin as she listened. He had never opened up to her like this before, and she didn’t want to interrupt, didn’t want him to close back up. Her hand reached up, caressing his cheek. A soft whimper escaped him as he leaned into her comforting touch before he cleared his throat, willing the icy claws away.

“But when you stayed, I couldn’t help it, I got so insecure.” His voice quivered as he continued, gulping loudly. “And then you were managing the volleyball team, and that’s when I started feeling worse. Ushiwaka in a position of power over you? Who knows what he could’ve made you do, what fucking shit he’d put you through. All the time we used to be spending together, you’d be spending with him. I just couldn’t help thinking to myself, is he making her happy? Does he know how lucky he is to have you there during practice? Do you prefer his pack over mine? And I just kept thinking about how he’d convince you to leave me, or somehow show you that he was the better option.”

The droplets became a stream. He sniffled.

One of his hands reached up, playing with her hair in an attempt to comfort himself. She began to pump some soothing pheromones in the air, letting him rein in some control of his emotions - sensing there was more he needed to say.

“And after he marked you? I thought it was over for us. Of course you’d choose him, he’s a fucking Apex Alpha. He’s one of the best aces in Japan. How can I compete with that?”

At this, she pulled away from his grip, sitting up and pulling him up with her. He whimpered at the loss of contact. “Hajime.” Her eyes surveyed his face as her hands went to cup his face. Leaning in, she kissed away his tears.

“You’re the love of my life.”

A kiss to his right cheek.

“There’s nobody more perfectly imperfect than you.”

To his left cheek.

“There’s not one day where I don’t think about my future with you, about our future.”

His nose.

“A life without you is not one that I want to live in.”

His sniffles got louder as he gripped her hip harder. She pulled his head into her chest, gently combing through his hair as he let go, crying into her flesh. “I’m so sorry that this happened. I promise that you’re the only Alpha for me. This pack - our pack - is the only one I want. I don’t give a fuck about Ushijima. I don’t need an Apex Alpha or the best ace in Japan. I don’t care what people say, you’re the best ace. I only want you, Hajime Iwaizumi. My soulmate, my Alpha.” With that, she pressed a kiss to his forehead.

His tender sobs became hiccups before he became overwhelmed with emotion once more. “Be mine?” he whimpered.

“I always have been. For now and always, I’m yours.”

As they laid in the comfort of each other’s company, (Name) couldn’t help the breathy sigh of satisfaction that left her. How lucky was she to find someone who loved her as much as Iwaizumi did?

*****

“I would like to apologize for my actions.”

The two best friends sat awkwardly in their dorm, Tendou on the top bunk and Ushijima at his desk.

“I could have died.”

Ushijima sucked in a harsh gulp of air. “I know.”

“Wakatoshi, you’re my best friend. You know I would do anything for you, right?”

He let his head hang as he nodded. “I know. But that does not remove my guilt. I am sorry that I put you in danger.”

“I know I shouldn’t have gone back to the dorms, but I was worried.”

Tendou hummed slightly, fiddling with his white plush dragon, the very same one that (Name) had gifted him after learning about his Studio Ghibli preferences.

The last remnants of strawberry clung to the room. Ushijima’s rut had eased up after he had knotted (Name) that first time. After proceeding to do so another three or four times that night, Ushijima had regained control over himself. He had felt only extreme remorse since she had left his dorm room.

“I did not mean to worry you.”

“You were in a lot of pain, Wakatoshi. The whole floor could hear you and I figured that would be the case after you marked her. How are you feeling now though?”

Ushijima’s fingers drummed on his desk. “Guilty.”

“What for?”

“I should not have marked her.”

Tendou snorted, nodding. “You aren’t wrong there. So what now?”

“What do you mean?”

“What do you plan on doing about your relationship with her?” Tendou raised an eyebrow. “You know as well as I do that she’s our Omega, you essentially trapped her into that.”

Ushijima’s brows furrowed. “I did not trap her. I gave her a choice.”

“A choice where she would have to decide between Alphas she knew and trusted and other Alphas she’s barely interacted with.”

“But that was still her choice.”

Tendou leaned over the bunk, vermillion eyes fixing Ushijima with a hard stare. The Apex Alpha flinched, unused to such a serious expression on his best friend's face. “Wakatoshi. It doesn’t matter what you or your Alpha believes. (Name) has a bond-mate and you intruded on that relationship by courting her. Did you even ask her?”

Ushijima’s nerves froze. A bond-mate? Why hadn’t she said something sooner? He shook his head, eyes darkening.

“I gave her the watch and she accepted.”

“But did you verbally ask her?”

Ushijima paused before shaking his head. “I did not think that I needed to.”

Tendou barked with shrill laughter. “Seriously? I would have thought you knew better than that, Wakatoshi. We’ve moved past those traditional times. It’s all about consent these days.”

“I- I didn’t know.”

The middle-blocker snorted. “I care about you deeply, Wakatoshi-kun, but this is a difficult situation. You and (Name) need to both talk it out, face-to-face, without any influence from pheromones or your rut and her heat. She’s probably bonded with that wing-spiker by now.”

“I know.”

Tendou gave him a final nod before rolling back over.

“Are you hurt?” Ushijima asked.

Tendou looked over his shoulder, giving his friend a small smile. “Nothing that I can’t recover from Wakatoshi. Good night.”

“Good night, Tendou.”

Ushijima climbed out of his chair, plopping down onto his mattress and laying down. The strawberry scent floating up from his bedsheets. He rolled over, burying his face into the pillow where the scent lingered the strongest.

He knew he wasn’t guilt-free here.

He knew that (Name) was in a difficult situation.

He knew that his Alpha, his instincts, had landed them both into this. Why hadn’t he tried harder to control it?

Ushijima huffed, squeezing his eyes shut. He had to fix this.

He had to.

BONUS

“Oooh, Iwa-chan look!”

Oikawa grabbed the octopus hat, shoving it onto Iwaizumi’s head who scowled at his best friend’s antics. On his other side, Makki and Mattsun were engaged in a swordfish fight, smacking the plushies around in an attempt to force the other to submit.

“I should have never asked you idiots to come with me,” Iwaizumi growled, snatching the plush swordfish out of Makki and Mattsun hands before using both to smack Oikawa across the head.

“Ouch!” Oikawa whined, rubbing his head. He pouted. “Well why invite us if we can’t even have fun?”

“We aren’t meant to be here for fun!” Iwaizumi replied, replacing the merchandise before apologising to the store owner. “You’re supposed to help me decide which thing (Name) would like better.”

Makki snorted as the group made their way to the exhibits. “Wouldn’t you know that? Since you’re her mate and all.”

Iwaizumi face-palmed.

Why oh why did he think this would be a good idea?

“Do you think we could kidnap a penguin?”

The third years turned to see a grey-haired lanky male, who had his face pressed against the glass as he stared at the penguins.

“Y’know what, I’m just going to talk to the employees. Stay here.” Iwaizumi gave Oikawa a pointed look before he disappeared in search of an aquarium employee.

“Maybe we should try and steal a penguin too,” Makki muttered to Mattsun. Loud footsteps distracted the Seijoh third-years, drawing their attention to the entrance of the exhibit.

“Lev!” A short Alpha stormed towards the tall multiracial male, kicking him square in the back. “I told you to wait at the entrance for the rest of the pack!” The Alpha glared at the taller Alpha before grabbing his arm and dragging him off. “I swear, we can’t take you anywhere.”

“But Yaku! You can’t lose me.” Lev’s eyes sparkle as he points at the fairy penguins. “You’re as big as these penguins! You’ll see me anywhere you go.”

An angry tick-mark appeared on the libero’s forehead. “Lev!” He snapped, his Alpha tone slipping.

Lev flinched, a shiver running down his spine as he let out a little whine. “Don’t get mad!”

“Yaku, stop harassing the first year.” Kuroo appeared, crossing his arms as he tapped his foot. “You already know he’s an idiot, so why do you continue getting upset over it?”

“Just cause he’s an idiot doesn’t mean he can’t respect me,” Yaku scowled. “Where’s everyone else?”

“Reminds you of anyone else you know?” Makki snickered, glancing between Oikawa and the direction that Iwaizumi had taken off in. Oikawa ignored them, still picking through the various shelves of the gift-shop.

Kuroo shrugged. “Fukunaga and Inuka are taking photos with the seals.”

“You can take photos with the seals here?” Makki asked under his voice, nudging Mattsun.

“Do you think we could steal a seal?” Mattsun joked before they both chuckled.

“C’mon, let’s go find the rest of the pack. We don’t have much time for this “team-bonding” before we go meet Karasuno.”

“Karasuno?” Oikawa muttered, eyes narrowing as he snapped to attention. He sniffed the air, scanning the Alphas. “Who are they and why are they meeting them?”

The question was answered by the tall halfie.

“It was such a long trip from Tokyo,” he whined. “Why can’t we spend more time here?”

“Lev, just do what we say,” Yaku rolled his eyes, his nostrils flaring slightly.

At that moment, Iwaizumi returned.

“Hey, I got everything booked. You ready to head out?” He checked his wrist. “If we’re lucky, we’ll be able to hangout with (Name) at home and have dinner.”

Makki’s face lit up. “(Name) and food? Sign me up!”

As they walked off, chatting about their plans, Oikawa kicked the ground angrily muttering under his breath.

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes. “Why are you so pissy?”

“Why do all the other teams get to practice with Tokyo teams? We’re just as good!”

Irritation filled the wing-spikers face. “Why don’t you talk to the coaches? That’s how Karasuno did it.”

Mattsun raised his eyebrow. “How do you know that?”

Iwaizumi shoved his hands into his jacket, “I talk to Kageyama sometimes.”

“You what?!”

Across the town at the Karasuno gym, Kageyama sneezed mid-set.

*****

“Welcome to this short class! Today, we’ll be learning how to make two different types of nerikiri wagashi, Strawberry Daifuku, and three-colour dango and we’ll be pairing those with matcha green tea that we will brew later.”

(Name)’s eyes sparkled as she bounced in her seat, eyes flitting from the instructor to her mate. Iwaizumi looked calm and collected as he leaned back in his seat, his elbow on the back of her chair.

“Since you all have partners, we’ll be working on both two different desserts at once. Please choose one person to work on the nerikiri and the other to work on the daifuku.”

She carefully followed the instructions to mix the flour, sugar, and water into the pot to dissolve. Beside her, Iwaizumi followed the instructions to make the strawberry daifuku. Amusement filled him at the sweet scent of the fruits. He preferred his mate’s scent to them.

“Why are we taking this class again?” Someone whispered behind them as the instructor went over the ingredients that they would be using.

“Aone wanted to.” An Alpha snorted.

The voice seemed vaguely familiar. Iwaizumi’s brow furrowed, throwing a curious glance over his shoulder. He almost choked as he realised who was behind them.

“Guess even the mighty wall does cute stuff for bonding, huh?” (Name) said softly, grinning as she looked up at her mate.

Iwaizumi chuckled, shaking his head. He definitely hadn’t expected to see them there, nor did he expect the formidable middle-blocker of Date Tech to be the very reason they were there.

“Your peach nerikiri is so cute Aone-san!”

The couple jumped slightly, startled by the loudness of the voice. Heads turned to the tall, blonde-haired male as he eagerly bounced in his seat.

“Kogane!” Futakuchi scowled, face-palming. His nostrils flared as his cedar scent spiked slightly. “What did we say about inside voices?”

Koganegawa pauses, tapping his chin. “To use them when we’re inside?”

“Exactly.” The newly appointed Captain sighed. “Now, let’s be quiet and finish this class, okay?”

“Yes Captain, sir!” Kogane salutes only to accidentally knock the bowl of dry ingredients, sending it flying all over Aone. Koganegawa’s jaw dropped. “I am so, so sorry Aone-san!”

Aone blinked.

Then the middle-blocker gave the young setter a nod before turning his dough. The Alpha carefully smoothed out the wrinkles, shaping it. Futakuchi glanced over from his dango, observing the fluid movements.

“Have you made these before, Aone?”

Aone nodded again, eyes locked on the pastries.

“I didn’t know you were into sweets,” Koganegawa whispered to no avail. His voice still echoed in the classroom.

“I grew up making them.” Aone replied simply.

Futakuchi tilted his head. “Was it to impress Omegas?”

Aone shrugged, remaining silent.

“Omegas like it when you make them desserts?”

(Name) stifled a giggle as she tried to keep her eyes on her own treats. She had no idea who this ‘Kogane’ was, but he reminded her of Goshiki and Kindaichi. Her heart hummed, missing the two young males. Silently, she decided to host a mini-dessert party with her underclassmen as soon as she had a chance.

“I swear to god, Kogane, I’m glad you’re a Beta.”

“Thanks!” Koganegawa paused. “Wait, was that supposed to be an insult?”

“Just make your daifuku.”

*****

FUN FACTS

💟 Iwaizumi had been miserably picking at his dinner and staring at photos of him and his mate when (Name) had unexpectedly arrived

💟 As soon as (Name) felt that Ushijima had enough control, she had left his dorm. She didn’t like the way she had to rush off that morning and how her conversation with Iwaizumi had ended

💟 Regardless of whether or not she was in heat, (Name) had a nest built in her room. She enjoyed the safety it provided and it wouldn’t feel complete without Iwaizumi

💟 Iwaizumi had been invited to that final trip to the aquarium with (Name) and her parents, but had to skip out due to his own family obligations. Outside of visiting it with the Seijoh 4 to plan this date, Iwaizumi had never actually been to the aquarium before

💟 The Alpha typically only cooked with (Name) or cooked for her when she was sick. The Omega typically wouldn’t let him cook by himself if she had a choice

💟 Marine animals are (Name)’s all-time favourite. She can’t choose which she likes the most and will default to ocean documentaries whenever she has a chance. Iwaizumi and the Seijoh boys will get her plushies of the animals whenever they notice one she doesn’t have (which isn’t very many)

💟 The couple got a DVD of all the photos they had taken that day. The employees - knowing that it was (Name)’s birthday - also managed to get some sneaky pictures of the couple around the aquarium. Iwaizumi plans on printing those out and displaying them in their apartment

💟 Initially, they would take turns planning dates but after a few months of courting, they decided just to plan them together as those dates would end up more fun

💟 Iwaizumi loves to buy (Name) sweets, but he thought it would mean more if he learned how to make it himself. Secretly he was already planning on going to Oikawa’s place to learn how to make other sweets

💟 It wasn’t often that Iwaizumi would voice his insecurities, and it always meant the world to (Name) when he did. She never pressured him because she knew that he would be more stressed out. Instead, she would provide him whatever support he needed

💟 (Name) had been shopping when she saw the plushie of Haku and knew immediately that she had to get it for Tendou

💟 Tendou had never spoken up before about the situation between (Name) and Ushijima. Initially, he was all for Ushijima’s happiness and congratulated the male on finding a mate, but after getting to know her better, Tendou couldn’t help but feel guilty

💟 During their swordfish fight, Makki had knocked over a glass bowl which would have shattered. Thankfully, Iwaizumi predicted that would happen and was already primed to catch the bowl

💟 Lev was unsuccessful in his scheme to kidnap a penguin, but Fukunaga - wanting to one-up the first-year - managed to steal one up until they were about to walk out. The two are now banned from the Sendai Aquarium

💟 Date Tech has a monthly hangout where team members all switch off on getting to pick what to do. This month was Aone’s choice

💟 Futakuchi meant his comment as a back-handed compliment. He worries how Koganegawa would treat his Omega if he was an Alpha, especially since it was common knowledge that Omegas love sweets.

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raccoon-macaroon · 3 years

Text

Two

A rooster crows. I stretch without opening my eyes. When I do open them, I see tree roots hanging above me. Pale morning light filters in through the open door. I yawn and rub the wolf’s fur, and she yawns back at me, her huge jaws shutting with a snap. I looked around the hut. It’s empty, but at that moment the door swings open and Muriel steps inside, holding three eggs in one hand and a chicken under one arm. He starts when he notices me awake.

“Good morning,” I say. I pull the fur up to my chin, feeling like I’m doing something indecent just by lying there. He nods, sets the chicken down outside, and crosses the room to the fireplace.

“Thank you for letting me stay,” I say, climbing out of the pile of furs and trying unsuccessfully to neaten them.

Muriel looks at me out of the corner of his eyes, brows furrowed. He’s cracked the eggs and they are sizzling in a pan over the fire.

“You remember?”

“Remember what?”

“Last night.” I feel the heat rush into my cheeks. Did something happen last night? I feel the wound on my forehead. It’s scabbed over and starting to itch. I knocked on his door. He let me stay. Then...he slept over there and I slept over here. I would remember if something happened. Muriel frowns at my silence. There’s dark circles under his eyes.

“Ah, I’m sorry. You didn’t sleep well because I took your bed.”

“No, that’s not what I…” He shakes his head. When the eggs are finished, he slides them onto a plate and sets it on the table. He moves to leave the hut, when he stops and turns back to me.

“You need someone to look at your head. I know someone who can help.” He grimaces, as if thinking of this person was unpleasant. “Eat your breakfast so we can go,” he said, going out the door.

“Aren’t you going to eat?” He freezes with his hand on the doorframe.

“I’m not hungry.”

“I really appreciate the breakfast, but…” Why was I so insistent? Why did I want him to eat with me?

“I can’t eat three eggs. I don’t want them to go to waste.” Clucking sounded from outside. “The chickens worked hard on these.”

Muriel turns around to look at me, frowning.

“Here.” I pick up the tarnished fork sitting next to the plate and cut one of the eggs sloppily in half. The yolk is runny and spills over the plate. I scooch an egg and a half to the far side of the plate and the rest towards myself.

Slowly, Muriel steps into the room towards the table. He picks up another fork and a bowl from a shelf on the wall, the whole time never taking his eyes from me. As if I will strike him if he looks away. He sits down across from me, forking up his share of the eggs and dropping them into the bowl.

Neither of us say anything as we eat. I glance around the room, trying to come up with a topic of conversation, but the room is so sparse it’s hard to come up with anything. There’s a little wooden figurine sitting in an alcove in the far wall. A bear, maybe? The paint job looks old and rubbed off in places.

“That’s nice. Did you make it?”

“No.” I think he’s going to leave it at that when he continues. “A...friend made it for me.”

“Oh, that’s nice. Do they live around here?”

His eyes darken. “No.”

“Oh.” We finish our breakfast in silence.

As soon as I step out into the sunlight, my head begins to ache. I groan and put my hand to my cut. All of the numbing agent from the night before has worn off. When I lift my head, I see Muriel looking over his shoulder at me. In his eyes I see...concern? Maybe? But the look is gone quickly.

“...name,” he mumbles

“Huh?”

“What’s your name?”

What’s my name? What is my name? Panic washes over me. How do I not know my own name? Did my injury cause me to forget? What was I doing before I woke up in the forest? My eyes dart around, and they land on a scrubby plant.

“It’s Sage!” I burst out. “Like the plant!”

Muriel takes a step back, surprised at my outburst. Then he nods and starts walking.

I look at his back as we walk, paying little attention to the forest around me. Did I really just make up a name for myself? And couldn’t I have picked something cooler? Well, too late to change it now. After several minutes alone with my swirling thoughts, I need to break the silence.

“So, who are we going to see?”

“An idiot,” grumbles Muriel. “He’s a doctor. He helped Inanna when she was hurt, once.” The black wolf whines at the sound of her name, pushing her snout into Muriel’s hand. He scratches behind her ears, and for a moment I think I see him smile. But the moment is gone so quickly I can’t be sure.

When we reach the edge of the forest, Muriel pulls his hood up. Inanna is nowhere to be seen.

“This way,” he mumbles. Fields slowly give way to houses, and then a town.

“What is this place?” I ask.

“Vesuvia,” he said. A bell chimes in my mind. I’ve heard that name before.

At the edge of town where the dirt path ends and the cobblestones begin, Muriel stops. He looks uncomfortable.

“Are you alright?” His eyes dart to me, then back to the city.

“I don’t like coming here,” he said.

“Oh.” Immediately I feel the need to alleviate his discomfort. But what can I do? I’ve never been here before...that I can remember. I glance down at his hand. My first instinct is to take it, but I smush the thought down. We only just met. That would be weird. Muriel shakes himself and keeps moving.

With each road we take, the city seems to get busier. Townhouses become businesses and market stalls, a handful of people walking in the street turn into bustling crowds. I try to keep my eyes locked on Muriel’s back. It shouldn’t be this hard, I think to myself. It’s not like he’s hard to find. But as the crowd shuffles around us, he seems to get further away. At a break in the crowd, I dart forward, grabbing onto the back of his cloak. He starts, turning around to look at me.

“Sorry,” I gasp, bending my head to hide my burning cheeks. “I was worried I would lose you in the crowd.”

After a moment he nods. “Don’t let go,” he says.

After a while, Muriel stops in front of a little shop. The sign on the door shows a mortar and pestle with a snake wrapped around it.

“Should be next door…” Muriel mumbles.

The building to the right of the little shop has a sign too, a raven with a syringe in it’s talons.

We stop in front of the door. I realize I’m still holding on to Muriel’s cloak. The door in front of us pops open, and a tall, red haired man with an eyepatch appears in the doorway.

“Oh, um, hello. I was just about to close up shop for a bit but...what can I do for the two of you? Eugh, that is quite a doozy of a head wound if I do say so myself. I assume that’s why you’re here. Come in, come!”

The space is spacious, but cluttered. Knickknacks litter the counter and shelves. Compasses, seashells, carvings and things I don’t recognize. One shelf is covered in just jars of black blobs. Books fill the rest of the space, shoved wherever they will fit. A raven lifts its head sleepily from a little nest on the very top of a shelf close to the ceiling. He caws at us and rustles his feathers.

“Thank you, Malak,” says the doctor dismissively. “Have a seat.” The man gestures to a little side room with a flourish. Inside is a little cot, a chair, and more shelves full of stuff.

I sit gingerly on the cot, and realize I still have yet to let go of Muriel’s cloak.

“Sorry,” I say, dropping it like a hot coal. Muriel shakes his head. He looks peeved, but not at me. He’s staring at the red haired man as he bustles around the room.

“So, how’d you end up getting such a shiner?” The doctor sits in front of me and rests a pair of glasses on the tip of his nose, brushing the hair off my forehead to examine it. When he touches me, I feel Muriel tense beside me.

“I don’t remember,” I say honestly.

“Whew, amnesia? Been there. How far back do you remember?” He’s holding my wrist now, glancing up at a clock on a shelf.

“I don’t remember anything before waking up in the forest.”

“Nothing?” said the doctor. His eye widens in surprise. “That is serious.” He thinks for a moment. “Well, I’m afraid there isn’t much I can do about that, but we can do something about that head wound. Though I pride myself in my stitch work, I’m afraid we’re going to need some more help for this one.” He grins at Muriel and winks - blinks? at him. “Wouldn’t want to mess up the face of your pretty lady.” The doctor begins rifling through the shelves for something.

Muriel sputters. “She’s not...can’t you just heal the wound with your...powers?”

The doctor stops and looks at Muriel.

“Er...ah, no, I’m afraid not. Not anymore.” He looks at the ground, but then smiles. “But! With a little magic-ing, in combination with this-” He holds up a jar of black blobs. “You should be good as new! Er, at least your head wound will be.”

“Julie?” A woman’s voice sounds from upstairs. “I’ve been waiting for-” A pretty woman enters the room. When she sees us, her eyes light up. “Oh, hello! I didn’t hear you come in.”

The doctor grins and presses a kiss to the back of the woman’s hand. “Always arriving just when I need you, as ever.” The woman gazes up at him fondly.

“May I introduce my lovely and magical wife and assistant, Keziah.”

#the arcana #muriel #julian devorak #apprentice keziah #thearcanagame #fanfic

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katsukikitten · 4 years

Text

Princess 10

The sound of murmuring stirs you, mixed with the pain in your side and calf.

The pain has you sitting striaght up in bed, feeling out for Katsuki to only find cool sheets.

You finally spy the ash blonde as your eyes finally have the chance to catch up to your instincts. He is standing half in and half out of the yurt speaking lowly to someone, by the looks of the early morning sun casting a shadow over the figure it seems to be a man.

"I've brought healing water and herbal tea, my fierceness." A soothing voice answers the low hiss.

"She is still asleep." It is odd to hear his voice come out harsh so early in the morning. Especially after the contrast of its softness last night.

*"Mo Chuisle."*

Heat floods your cheeks faster than the night can replay before your fingers ghost an action from last night. Caressing at the pulse that stands on the other side of the door. A pulse you so needlessly controlled.

"Let him in." Your voice sounds raw, as if you swallowed shards of glass, you attempt to clear your throat but the broken sound stays lodged in deep. Crimson turns on you, searing into you like red hot coals, you let your bottom lip protrude just a bit before he flings the curtain of a door open with an angry hiss.

"My queen." He bows and you rush to right him in your laced robe, your hands shaking as they set the tray of tea on the low table. You bite back the wince from the movement.

"Please I am far from. I used you like a puppet last night." It is apology enough for the dark haired man as he smiles at you warmly. Somehow thinking of how to save your pride. He grabs onto your hand with a soft smile.

"Apology accepted my ire." You return his smile before you feel something cool dangling on your wrist, it is light yet heavy as is the call of water in the air. You look to your wrist astonished to see a gift of small black stones.

"I cannot accept this." You go to remove it from your delicate yet deadly arm before a heavy hand wraps just below the jewelry.

"Princess, in this culture if royalty does not accept a gift from their people it is considered a great dishonor to the gifter." Katsuki is back to his usual gruff self, he removes his hand as he makes his way to fix your tea.

"It is made from stones softened by the river that used to house my family's water wrym." Mizu smiles, "I hope it is acceptable."

"It is, more than enough. Thank you." You clasp his hands, you open your mouth to ask where their wrym had gone when you notice tears welling in his eyes. You squeeze his hands instead.

"You may leave." Bakugou bites out and Mizu takes a deep bow.

"My wrath. Shall I return for evening tea and a bath?" He asks still bent at the waist. Bakugou's eyes narrow and you cannot tell if it is from agitation or exhaustion.

"Yes. Now continue your duties." With that the tall man bows ever further before righting himself, leaving the yurt in silence.

Katsuki holds tea out to you, his eyes fixated on your cheek before he sighs taking a seat in the relaxed blood leather chair. Silence envelops the room not as it does at your old home, where it is stiff and smothering from the weight of things unsaid.

No it is....comfortable.

Nothing but the two of you and the call of his blood beating in time with yours.

*"Mo Chuisle."* Echos through your head again and you sigh softly.

You feel odd, sipping your tea as Bakugou looks over reports Kirishima must have wanted to share with him last night.

You think of his capable hands delicately massaging a lather into your hair. You gulp many emotions.

Embarrassment.

Exhilaration.

Desire.

The last emotions catches and you clear your throat.

The weight of the water stones pull at your wrist and you think in the silence.

How many dragons have you seen in the Bad Lands?

In what was *supposed* to be in the dragon kingdom?

The answer was simple you had only ever seen Ryu. Curiosity begins to burn it's way through as Bakugou ruffles through documents, pushing a set of them towards you.

But you couldn't care less about those right now. No right now you needed to know.

"Where had all the dragons gone?" You ask aloud, scarlet eyes shift to you, watching you closely.

Noting that you are sitting abnormally, favoring your right side, breathing slightly shallow as if labored. He bites the inside of his lip when he realizes you hadn't healed that wound much at all last night.

Droplets of blood seep through the bandages confirming what he knows.

He sighs realizing you would be the death of him.

Little did he know the weight of that thought.

He chews on the thought as you look to him for the first time since meeting with patient eyes. It was a little known fact that the land of dragons was almost dragonless.

"I would like to know. I would love to hear the true history compared to the rumors. I heard the first dragon king was chosen before the High King." You sip your tea, trying to even your breathing so he does not know your slight discomfort.

Bakugou stares with heated hungry eyes before settling on the matter. He figures this is better than you raising hell across the great Ocean.

"That is true. Over 200 years ago the Mother Dragon nested in this land." His voice is gruff but it does not deter your questions.

"And?!"

Another sigh escapes him, eyes still laced with concern that you should still be resting in bed. He notes that you look happy, ecstatic, emotions you have yet to show here or maybe they were never aimed at him.

So a leather chair will have to do.

"Settle in Princess. As this story can be quite long." You bite the inside of your lip as you swing your feet beneath your toned ass, holding onto your tea with both hands as you patiently wait.

"As I said the Mother Dragon nested in these very lands. The great forefather guided our traveling tribe through the lands from the base of, then, Iroh mountain to the deadly cliffs of the Great Ocean."

"The Bad Lands." You breathe and Bakugou notices the pure awe and curiosity in your tone, he cannot help the smile that crosses his face as he nods.

"The Bad Lands." He repeats before continuing on.

"The Great Warrior, the first Wrath of this land, could track, hunt and kill any animal faster than all of his people combined. His quirk gave him the advantage. He followed the brute bison here during a fateful summer. My people set up their homes, painted their canvases to show their Wrath their joy in the location. So much so that some elders even begged to stay here after only a month. Claiming the land was fruitful, joyous and would be for years to come. But Wrath would entertain no such thing. Following the game and avoiding the summer droughts is what kept my people alive for so long before. The resources of this part of land were about to be used up. Two nights before they were set to leave, fire engulfed the sky followed by a deafening roar miles from the village. Wrath believed it to be an act of war, he took himself and two of his great men out to see while telling the others to stay behind.They marched beneath the stars, being guided by the occasional burst of flame before finally spying the cause."

You sip your tea quietly, eyes thinking back to the paintings you enjoyed not too long ago. Of the one with Bakugou reaching out to the mysterious woman, a giant black dragon soaring high above the two of them.

"Mother dragon!" You exclaim suddenly and he nods.

"She was a legend, a myth to my people and to others all around. It was said only one of her black scales would be worth more than any kingdom. And there she was a sitting duck, trapped by a poachers net. Wrath saw an opportunity, she was already injured and her scales would be easy for the taking. He told his men to watch his back as he formulated his plan to kill her. He jumped, arching in the air, dodging fire at the last second. His spear raised high for the final blow before he met her eyes. His heart filled heavy with dread so he threw his spear into the ground and landed before her. Suddenly she was no longer game to be hunted. He pulled the spikes from her wingless body and disentangled her from the weaved iron. She whipped her tail against Wrath sending him flying into his men before a heavy storm suddenly erupted over head. Pounding rain ending the weeks worth of drought as she disappeared into the moonless sky."

You wait patiently for him to add more but he leaves it there. Half to tease and half for suspense, as Reo did him when he first heard the story.

"And then what?!" You bite the bait and he smirks.

"And then the next morning his Furry had a huge black egg in front of his yurt. It hatched Tatsu. As forefather Wrath and Tatsu interacted Mother Dragon watched from afar. It was said Tatsu and Wrath could share feelings and thoughts with one another. This must have pleased Mother dragon as she allowed for more eggs to appear. My people still traveled but always returned here for summer for her gift of eggs. But as time grew on my people neglected to come, especially so when their dragons would bring eggs to different regions of the land. Soom making Mother Dragon a myth again. So the eggs began to dwindle until their was only one left. A bright red egg that would hatch for no one. Most thought it was a dud but that did not stop them from passing it down from generation to generation especially after the last dragon had died out fifty years after its appearance." He sips his now cooled tea, drinking you in as much as the hibiscus and elder berry.

He watches your lip quiver, while your eyes seem to brim. He grinds his teeth almost hating the sight.

"Ryu is the last dragon?" Your voice catches and it pulls harshly at Bakugou's chest. He sets his tea down and picks up his documents again.

"Yes." He says grimly and you stare into your the pinkish brown liquid.

"What of Mother Dragon is she dead?"

"The elders, especially Ki believe she is still alive, immortal. That she still lays eggs and waits for another worthy leader to guide the era of Dragon again."

Silence settles between the two of you as it all swirls in your head.

This was nothing like the rumors. In fact it was the opposite, it was said that Bakugou's people were barbaric, killing the dragon's just to have their eggs before heating then in a fire to hatch.

"How did Ryu hatch?" You break the silence and Bakugou gives you a borderline amused look.

"Mother and Father kept his egg in their room but I was always drawn to him depsite my mother yelling at me to stay away. I would swear it would whisper my name at night and one day I thought my explosions would help wake him up. Help him hatch. When I was very young I slapped my hands on the shell and let go a violent explosion. He hatched right away and bit me before snaking into my hair."

You laugh aloud, ignoring the pain that growls by your rib.

"Only you Bakugou." Your smile is contagious before you take another sip of your tea. Finally picking up the documents before you. Flicking through redundant reports before you spy a familiar script.

Your vision blurs red as you read the document in your shaking hand, collecting water from the air unknowingly.

"Princess?" Bakugou deep voice melds with worry and agitation from your sudden outburst.

"When did Kirishima get these notes?" Your voice shakes with rage as Bakugou begins to scowl.

"Last night before our return from the cliffs." He leans closer to you, watching water vapor appear on the air and noting your blood pooling into the air as well.

"Give me some of the burden mo chuisle." He growls, touching one of his scarred hands with yours, "Now."

You flip the paper for him to read.

*"Do not let me get my hands on him or that village, little girl."*

Your heart roars in your chest as you watch scarlet eyes skim over the paper.

Perfect scarlet eyes that you can so suddenly see popping out of their sockets. Ash blonde suddenly chunked and stained crimson while bloodied shrapnel litter the floor and meaty forearms. The smell of smoke fills your nostrils along with the acrid smell of sweet meat and burning hair.

"We need to leave." You heave with unqueanched rage putting a heavy pressure on the land before the sky can no longer take it, erupting overhead. Lightening and thunder dance between the droplets as Bakugou stares at you. The ground shakes before Ryu roars along with the thunder just outside the yurt.

His pulse rushes when he meets your eyes, something dark is lying beneath your stunning orbs.

"What of your wound?" He snarls and you grip his forearm with shaking hands.

Shaking from rage over the threat of Bakugou's and your people's safety.

Shaking from fear as suddenly you feel all of their blood all at once before water whips around the room.

"Now Bakugou. We have to beat him to the punch. Just you and just me."

"What? That is idoitic! We are not equivalent to the two armies we have." Your nails bite blood half moons into his forearms.

"I know. Father will never guess that it would be just you and I. We can send Kirishima and a small set of troops a few days after via ship. We need to end this before it begins." This time you rise shedding your laced rope to pull on the now tattered jumpsuit with the white fur. You turn to Bakugou as he stares after you, shirtless and still dressed in sleeping shorts.

Angry eyes follow your form as you set out an outfit for him evening knowing to pull out a particular set of ancient teeth as if you already knew.

The teeth of Tatsu bloodied from battles won long long ago.

It is then he realize he cannot stop you and if he had any doubt before you squash it with your next words.

"I'm going to protect our people, even if it fucking kills me."

@ha-tep. Enjoy bb!!!

#bakugou x reader #bnha fantasy au #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo x reader #bnha bakugou #bnha katsuki #bnha kacchan #bnha x reader #bnha au #bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugou #katsuki bakugo imagine

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ohpedromypedro · 3 years

Note

Sometime during the night, Grogu wakes up. He looks around and quickly notices Din sleeping on the bed next to his blanket nest. Making a soft, quite sad coo, Grogu reaches out to touch Din's shoulder like an apology. Din doesn't stir and the child makes another sound. He climbs out of the blanket nest and onto Din's chest. The exhausted mandalorian still doesn't wake up, but he does adjust his position in his sleep, to allow for Grogu to curl up against his chest instead. The child immediately takes him up on this offer and settles in pressed close. He falls asleep like that a minute later and they both sleep until the morning light peeks through the window. It's the child that wakes up first again and, feeling his green tummy rumbling, he abandons his sleeping spot and waddles over to the door. Reaching out with his hand, Grogu uses a small amount of force to turn the handle so the door swings open. The mandalorian just keeps sleeping.

She’s already up and dressed for the day making breakfast in the kitchen when Grogu emerges from the guest bedroom. She only knows of his presence when she hears his soft little coos coming from the entrance to the kitchen. She smiles, turning her head in his direction as he starts waddling over to her. “Good morning, Grogu. Hungry, I assume?” Grogu babbles at her, but in her mind she hears his answer loud and clear, “Very hungry. Food please.” She chuckles, turning her attention back to the food cooking in front of her. “You got it, little guy. Food’s almost done cooking. Let’s get you into your chair so I can get a plate fixed for you.” She leans down to pick him up from the floor, giving his ears a little rub before setting him in the booster seat at the table and pushing his chair in. “Now wait right here while I get your food, okay? It’s not gonna come any quicker if you start impatiently climbing out of your seat.” She chuckles softly before going back to where she’s cooking and finishing the eggs in the pan. She made enough for the three of them, so she hopes Mando will find the time to eat in the privacy of his current sleeping quarters while she starts some basic training with Grogu. She scoops some of the eggs onto a plate for Grogu and brings it over to him with a child sized fork for him to eat with, another thing she kept that was her daughters. “Eat up, Grogu. Once Mando is awake, we can start some Jedi training, would you like that?” Grogu gives an approving coo at her words and she smiles when he grabs the fork to start eating. She goes and grabs herself some eggs and soon joins Grogu at the table to eat, silently hoping to herself that Mando will wake once he’s gotten a good amount of rest.

#din djarin anon #sorry its late; had a busy holiday and weekend 😔#missed my din anon so much 😭💕#also i hope eggs are a thing in the star wars universe 😂#if not they are now 🤷🏼‍♀

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tcheschirewrites · 3 years

Text

Hhhhhh and because I am In A Good Place right now, let’s have a little bonus short. You want to know what Justin and Jen have been up to, those two wiliest of snakes, while RC and Dick have been in Japane? Well, let’s find out!

(Considering the length - I accidentally 1.7k - and technically it’s plot-advancing, I guess we can consider this chapter 20.5? lol)

The dim lighting of so many of the gastropubs in the city gave him a headache. Like, sure. He understood the ambiance, along with the pulsing music at just a few decibels shy of a migraine, and yes, all right, he had spent his fair share of time in joints with far lower lighting and beats with far deeper bass, but in his regular day to day, the need to hobknob frustrated him.

Justin adjusted his tie, tugging it further away from his Adam’s apple.

From her seat across the table, texting Richard or checking her emails or scrolling Instagram or whatever it was she was doing when she was pretending she wasn’t paying attention, Jennifer scowled at him. She reached over to him, fussing lightly with his lapels, the creases of his shirt against his slouched posture.

“Stop doing that,” she chided, sliding the knot of the tie back to its position against his throat. “Can you seriously not keep still for two hours? You’re incredible.”

“This is what happens when I don’t have you to take care of me Jen,” he groused, discreetly loosening his tie just slightly when she looked away for half a moment.

“Can it,” she replied, sipping neatly from her water. “I think I see him coming.”

Out of reflex, Justin tightened his tie, running a hand over his hair. “You’re sure we’ve got everything we need this time?”

Jen glanced back at him over her shoulder, her eyes aglow in the low lighting of the restaurant, reminding him so very much of the Jennifer he had met during university, and his chest ached. “Oh yeah,” she said, and her tone was so self-assured he allowed himself a glimmer of a real smile.

His father strode up to the table, seating himself without waiting for a greeting. “I’ve spoken with Mr. Kaiba. His terms are outstanding. I hope you’ve decided as one that this acquisition is well within business interests?”

Justin was practiced at swallowing the dark bile of his father’s reptilian cruelty – Jen less so, though her tenure as a legal counselor had left her well equipped to don the proper mask for the situation. “You know, pops, we have. We’ve spoken with Dick Grant and our Chief Marketing Officer, and we all agreed that a total sale at these terms was an offer we couldn’t refuse.”

“Justin, you know I don’t abide movie references.”

Raising his hands in a gesture of surrender, mostly to field Jennifer leaping across the table to strangle his father, Justin allowed himself a chuckle. “I know, old man, but I think you’ll find it’s appropriate, considering the situation. We nailed that Japanese bastard hook, line, and sinker.”

“That’s wonderful news. I’ve read the proposal, and the extra numbers packet you provided me earlier. Third Star stands to make quite a bit of money from the sale of the market shares.”

“Fuck yeah, they do.” Justin’s lips curled into a grin at the furrow in his father’s brow. He knew exactly what was going through the scaly fucker’s mind – Justin had never been so crass in his presence before, never stooped so low as to be anything but formal in front of James. “As my C Suite are majority shareholders, I’m real happy for the decision they made. Gonna net them a shitload of a nest egg. And you know what? They earned it.”

There was an intense silence, obstructed only briefly by the server swinging by the table to gather a drink order from James only to be met with a brusque wave of his hand; he did not take his eyes off of his son’s face.

The silence lasted a beat longer, then; “You mean you earned it. Second-person plural. As CEO of the company, you’ve invested in the largest amount of shares – “

“Ahhh, yeah,” Justin cut him off smoothly, leaning back against the booth and threading his fingers to a basket behind his head. “About that.”

Jennifer stepped in here, digging into her bag for a brief moment before retrieving a manila folder. “I’m sorry to say, Mr. Carriger, sir, but Justin is actually no longer eligible to his rights as a shareholder in the event of a buyout.”

James did not take his eyes from Justin’s face. “You don’t say.”

“Mm.” She flicked open the folder expertly, spreading a couple of key documents over the table before situating herself back into her chair, taking another dainty sip of her water. “In the company bylaws, section thirteen article D, in the event of a buyout, any shareholder who has brought direct hard to an employee must forfeit the market value of those shares.”

The disgust in James’ eyes was palpable, and here he finally turned away from his son with a curl of his lip, rounding his attention to Jennifer. “I think you must be forgetting section sixteen, article B, that any executive who has lost their shares in the event of an accident will cede the market value of those shares to their next of kin.”

“Accident?” Jennifer batted her lashes at him, playing coy, playing dumb in a way that Justin knew she had learned in her years at law school and had only heard about second-hand. “Which accident are we talking about, sir?”

Verging on the edge of his patience, James replied, “The train accident – now, Justin is not directly responsible for the accident on the KaibaCorporation bullet train, but it can be acknowledged that his decisions as Chief Executive Officer are what led to your fiancé and that poor woman’s injuries. It’s my understanding they did not seek extraordinary compensation, and their dedication to the company is to be acknowledged, but – “

Jennifer let out a cooing laugh, grating and pretty and eminently false. “Oh, no, sir. To my understanding, neither party involved in the train accident in Domino were seeking punitive damages for their injuries. But that has absolutely no bearing on the sexual assault your son was involved in earlier this week with his subordinate, the Chief Marketing Officer of Third Star Gaming.”

Justin had to hand it to her: he had never seen his father so speechless, and even from his position as an observer, he had to crack a smile.

“He what.”

The smile plastered on Jennifer’s face widened, all glimmering teeth and threatening promise. “Oh yes, sir. It was reported to me only hours after it occurred, and I confirmed it with the victim shortly thereafter. Her statement is here, if you care to read it. I had it transcribed this afternoon for your convenience.”

From the mutinous look on James’ usually cool face, he did not care to read it. His cheeks began to spot with red, and Justin thought he saw his father’s pulse jump in his neck.

He retained his composure, though, turning back to his son, who raised his brows and shoulders in a gesture of feigned helplessness. “I find it difficult to believe that you would be so careless as to let your libido get the better of you, Justin. At such a critical juncture.”

The accusation was plain, and Justin said nothing, nodding briefly at Jen.

“Now, as you are aware, sir, pursuant to article 13 section D is the following addendum – “ She cleared her throat before continuing; “’If any executive person or persons from party A – that is, Third Star, as specified in line two of the company bylaws – bring egregious bodily harm or otherwise inflict considerable pain and suffering, then during the event of a complete corporate acquisition those shares would not transfer to next of kin (see: article ten, section K et al), but would instead be split amongst the remaining executives of party A.”

Jennifer smiled prettily at his father, and Justin had to admire the irony of the picture. “Now, I’m sure you’d agree that a confessed sexual assault falls into the category of both bodily harm and pain and suffering, but – “ She paused here to dig into her purse for another manila folder, this time much thicker, and slapped it onto the table in front of James with such force that the silverware rattled. “Even if you don’t agree, it’s all right, because we’ve checked with insurance and HR.”

James did not move, instead staring at the thick folder before him with such intensity that Justin thought it might catch fire. Finally, he raised his sharp blue eyes to his son’s face, and Justin had to wonder at the electricity in those eyes – eyes he had so long been spellbound by, locked into place by some wretched sense of duty.

“You son of a bitch.”

Under any other circumstances, Justin would have seized the other man by his collar, throttled him, laid him out with a cold cock to the nose – but considering the situation, he could only laugh. “Hey, now, I don’t think it’s right to speak that way about the dead. I dunno about Irish culture, but I know for sure mom’s people wouldn’t like you talking about her that way.”

“I’m not talking about her, you raving buffoon. I’m talking about you. You absolutely incompetent monkey. What on earth were you thinking?”

What was he thinking? He’d had a primer on the bylaws when his father had installed him as CEO of this venture, but after the train accident in the spring, Jennifer had sat him down and gone over them with him in depth, and he realized how stupid everything was. How so little was dictated by fate, and how if he wanted to have any say, he would have to seize control of what little he had. There was no evidence to support his deepest of thoughts, of course, the suspicions and conspiracies he’d concocted in the middle of the night when only his bottle of cheap tequila was there to keep him company.

But he’d had a gut feeling like this before.

And this time, he would not allow someone he loved to die for it.

“What can I say dad?” he finally said, spreading his hands wide into a shrug, his grin turning sharp. “I never was good with your money.”

#culture shock #ch: justin #ch: jennifer #i've said it before and i'll say it over and over until i am hoarse:#i love justin's backstory #i could write an entire story just for him #there are some Hints that i am dropping here #that we will go further into in arc three #but i just wanted to get this out and posted

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keelywolfe · 4 years

Text

FIC: Not What It’s Cracked Up To Be ch.6 (baon)

Summary: Edge and Stretch are finally getting back on an even keel. Edge’s broken leg is healing well, Spring is finally here and the flowers are close to blooming.

Be a shame if anything disturbed their domestic bliss.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Kustard, Established Relationships, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Fluff, Chickens, Depression

Notes: As a heads up, this chapter includes a depiction of depression.

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

Read Chapter 6 on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

By the time Edge made his way back to the car and was headed for home, Red’s prediction about his leg singing was coming true, going from an enthusiastic Ave Maria to operatic scales in no time. He was long past the doctor’s instruction of only spending two hours at a time standing and the twinges of pain were running into a constant throb.

Sitting in the driver’s seat was somewhat better. It took his weight off his aching limb and driving at idling speed kept him from having to press too often on the brake or gas pedal. Even so, when he pulled into his own driveway, Edge was sweating through his shirt and working at breathing through the discomfort. Time to get this finished and get his leg up, because re-injuring it was not going to help Stretch’s depression in the slightest.

Next to him, Nugget’s basket was carefully buckled into the passenger seat and he noted wryly that at least one of them was enjoying the journey. She’d kept up a stream of warbling chatter the entire drive that was rather reminiscent of her owner.

“All right, time to get you back home,” Edge announced. He reached over to unbuckle the seat belt, guiding it back against the seat since he didn’t trust this comedy of errors not to continue by knocking the poor creature out with a badly timed buckle retraction. “I’m sure Noodle and Dumpling will be happy to see you.”

And if they weren’t, Stretch certainly would. He hoped.

Edge took a steadying breath and climbed out of the car, grimacing as renewed pain shot up to his femur. Damn the blasted thing, anyway, he was going to have to ice the cartilage for a while and he certainly wasn’t going to be up to making anything for dinner. Asking Stretch was out of the question, which meant he might need to call for reinforcements.

Even the idea of asking anyone for help, particularly in the kitchen, made Edge’s hackles rise, but better that than having Stretch see him hurting or worse, having to go back to the doctor and admit that a mere two days after having his cast removed, he was already disobeying their instruction.

Blue would probably be the best option and of course he was certain to be so incredibly pleased about the situation…Edge cut the bitter thought off hard, dismissing it firmly as unworthy. Whatever frictions existed between him and Blue, they were still friends, and all Blue ever wanted was for his brother to be healthy and happy. Whatever issues he’d had with their relationship, he’d never tried to interfere or dissuade Stretch from it. It would be petty to hold his concern against him, even if he could occasionally be aggravating and normally Edge wouldn’t even indulge the thought. Today, though, ah, today he was tired from his broken sleep the night before, riled by his brother, aggrieved by his aching leg, and worried about his husband. If his control was running a little ragged, today of all days it could be excused.

Nugget flapped her wings, resettling into the basket and startling Edge from his thoughts. He shook his head, opening the passenger door to retrieve poultry and basket alike. He’d deal with dinner when the time came, for now he had a recalcitrant chicken to return home.

The side gate was a shorter path than through the house and Edge limped through it, leaning heavily on his cane as he went to the coop.

To his dismay, Noodle and Dumpling did not come running out to greet him when he opened the fence. Edge frowned, setting the basket inside the gate and went to check the coop doors. He’d left them unfastened that morning, but the coop itself was empty, no eager chickens to greet him while demanding pets and treats.

“Stretch,” Edge said aloud, all his worries coalescing into a hard ball in his chest as he grabbed up Nugget again and headed for the house. He left Nugget in her basket just inside the sliding glass door, trusting that she wouldn’t wander from her makeshift nest or her ‘eggs’.

The stairs were somewhat painful to navigate but worse was finding their bedroom empty, the covers thrown carelessly back. So was the bathroom, the guest room, and panic was starting to take hold when Edge fairly stumbled back down the stairs, half-ready to call his brother and demand he locate his husband, where would he have gone—

A suspiciously chicken-y sound coming through the kitchen door derailed his fears. Edge paused and listened closer, and yes, that was a loud caw coming from his kitchen, along with the skitter of scaly feet.

His relief was dizzying, leaving him leaning weakly on his cane. Edge sighed inwardly and went to the door, carefully pushing it open.

The pair from the Embassy team had done a decent job at cleaning away most of the detritus of Red’s ‘accident’ from the kitchen. They’d cleared away the broken table and chairs, cleaned up the worst of the paint, and left his kitchen if not as it was then at least usable until they had a chance to remodel it.

There by the center island was Noodle, curiously inspecting the tiles and Dumpling was on the other side, pecking lightly at the paint-dappled cupboards with great interest. Their claws clicking on the hard floor as they scampered around, inspecting their temporary quarters. In one corner was Stretch, sitting curled up where their dining room table used to be. He was dressed somewhat haphazardly, his dirty feet bare beneath the legs of his track pants and swaddled into an elderly sweatshirt washed to a faded pastel. He didn’t look up at Edge, only sat watching the chickens, a lit cigarette dangling from between two fingers. As relieving as it was to see him out of bed, Edge couldn’t help but see the stains of exhausted orange beneath his sockets were deep, an advertisement of a sleepless night followed by a restless day.

Edge stepped in further, the rubber tip of his cane squeaking against the tile and only then did Stretch look up, his pale eye lights skittering nervously back and forth between Edge’s and the floor. A cylinder of ash dropped unnoticed from the tip of his cigarette, joining a scattering already on the tile and Stretch swallowed convulsively, ducking his head as he muttered out, “i know, i know they can't stay, but i thought, just for today maybe, they can stay here and be safe, right? i thought it would be okay for one day, please don't be mad—"

“Love, I'm not angry, not at all,” Edge told him softly. The words went unheard, Stretch rambling on desperately.

“…and it's only for today and maybe some of tomorrow, i know they have to go back out, but i couldn’t stop thinking about it, i couldn’t, and i’m not fucking up again, i can’t, not today—”

“Papyrus,” Edge said, sharply, and that cut through his babble. His head jerked up, eye lights too-wide and diffused. “You didn’t fuck up the first time, listen to me—”

“i know that!” Stretch burst out. He curled up tighter, drawing his legs up, his face pressed into his upraised knees and his arms wrapped around his skull, muffling his words. “i know, there was nothing i could have done, what even could i? i’m not a fucking fox hunter, i didn’t know. my soul knows it so why does my head keep telling me i’m wrong? why won’t my head shut up, why does it always have to tell me i’m a bad friend, a bad brother, i’m awful, why am i so awful?”

Stretch’s shoulders shook, his voice going thick and wet with tears and the sound of it was ripping at Edge’s own soul like jagged claws. All right, then, if Stretch wasn’t going to let him talk, then drastic measures might be best.

Edge spun around and left the kitchen, even if his soul protested vehemently at leaving his husband weeping alone. It was a matter of moments to snatch up the chicken-filled basket and bring it in, hauling it grimly despite the warning throb in his leg. Right back through the swinging door to plop the entire thing right in front of Stretch’s bare toes.

That blasted cigarette of his was dangerously close to burning a hole in his sweatshirt, but Nugget’s happy coos made Stretch jerk upright, staring disbelievingly at the small black chicken who only tilted her head inquisitively as if to ask what was the big deal, here she was, ready to join the party.

“oh,” Stretch mumbled. The still smoldering cigarette fell unnoticed from his fingers, shedding ash as it rolled across the tile. Edge hastily retrieved it and flicked it into the sink. He turned back just as Stretch reached out cautiously, disbelieving, settling his bare hand on Nugget’s back before Edge could call out a belated warning. But perhaps Nugget was growing more accustomed to returning to society or perhaps she simply trusted Stretch more to not lift her away from her so-called eggs. She chirruped contentedly, leaning into his touch as he gasped, sockets going wide. “she…how did…you…”

“It seems she was better equipped to defend herself against the fox than we thought,” Edge told him. It seemed better to leave Red’s interference out, at least for now and likely forever. “She ran off and was nesting out in Old New Home.”

“you brought her back to me,” Stretch whispered, in pained wonderment. A fresh wash of tears fell from his sockets, pale orange trickling down, gathering to drip from his chin.

“Love, don’t—" Edge tried. He started to sit and nearly fell in his attempt, luckily unnoticed as his leg finally gave out, and Stretch only sagged into his arms, his hand still resting on Nugget’s soft feathers.

“you found her,” Stretch choked out. He buried his face into Edge’s shirt, hot tears quickly soaking through the thin cloth. “you found…” Then, to Edge’s dismay, he shuddered out, “i’m so sorry. you shouldn’t’ve had to, she’s my responsibility, i should’ve gone looking instead of making an ass out of me assuming. sorry, i’m sorry—” He didn’t resist as Edge pulled him closer, only leaned against him and kept up that whispered litany, “sorry, should’ve and didn’t. just feels like one more thing i failed at.”

Edge tightened his grip and gave Stretch a little shake, almost rough as he said fiercely, “You didn’t fail at anything, certainly not this.”

“but—"

“No. Why do you expect so much from yourself?” Edge demanded softly and he wasn’t surprised to not get an answer. “I don’t know what’s going on in that troublesome mind of yours, but I’m telling you, it’s wrong. You have a great deal on your plate just as the others do and we both know people have been keeping certain things from us because I am supposed to be convalescing and you are supposed to be helping me. So, whatever is bothering you, we can discuss it if you want or not discuss it if you don’t, but you haven’t failed at anything, do you understand me?”

Stretch nodded, but his grip on Edge was still too tight, knuckles flexing convulsively. He whispered into Edge’s shirt, his voice was barely audible. “sometimes i feel like your life would be a lot easier without me.”

Simply hearing those words forced Edge to close his sockets, breathing through the roil of frustration that lit hotly in his soul. Stretch needed his understanding, not his temper, his internal demons were doubt, not of Edge, but of himself. The automatic answer was, ‘of course it wouldn’t.’ But that would be disingenuous, a lie of the kind told to children to soothe their hurts. Stretch was not a child and he would not be fooled by pat answers.

Instead, Edge took the time to consider it. Recalled his life before Stretch, the long days of work at the Embassy and then evenings at the Y. His brother stopping in for aggravation and dinner as Edge slowly learned more about cooking than Underfell could ever teach him. Movie nights and gardening days, uncomplicated pleasures coupled with satisfying work.

“That’s true, it might be easier,” Edge conceded. He held on tighter when Stretch stiffened, trying to pull away. “But it certainly wouldn’t be better. Plenty of things could be easier, I could stay here in this house, collecting my stipend and have my groceries delivered. I could tend my garden and might never need to go out again. That would be easier, if easy was all I wanted.” Gently, he slipped two gloved fingers beneath Stretch’s chin, urging him to look up. He met that teary gaze with his own steady one as he said, “Easy isn’t happy, love, and nothing has ever made me happier than being with you.”

Because he’d learned that pleasures were better with complications, when his gardening was interrupted by unexpected hugs, when his dinners were filled with excited chatter instead of silence or sarcasm. That he looked forward to leaving work when there was someone to come home to, and that stars were lovelier when seen through the lens of Stretch’s sight.

Stretch was blinking too hard, sniffling accusingly, “you sap.”

Just like that, the pained tension in him eased and Edge let out a chuff of laughter, shaking his head.

He drew Stretch back down to his chest and reached over to take Stretch’s hand in his own, his thumb skimming over slender fingers. Stretch was wearing one of his silicon rings, not the metal band with precious stones that Edge gave him when he pledged to love and cherish him, but the simpler one given for practical reasons, in bright day-glo colors to make him smile. “You say that as if it’s a bad thing. Some time ago my brother told me I could be happy if only I wanted to. I didn’t understand what he meant at the time. You helped me understand and the only place I ever want to be is with you. You can’t fail at that, you can’t fuck that up, so long as you’re here, with me. All right?”

“yeah, okay,” Stretch sighed out. He snuggled in closer and if his voice was still tremulous, his words were stronger, “can we stay here a little longer?”

“Of course.” Edge shifted until he was leaning against the wall, pulling Stretch to lay in between his legs and holding him tightly against his chest, over the soft pulse of his soul.

The kitchen floor was designed for easy cleanup and aesthetic, not for sitting and his tailbone was already protesting. He needed to ice his aching leg, the chickens needed to be shut back into their coop, and they could both use a real nap before figuring out what to do for dinner.

But that could all wait, just a little longer.

-finis

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #by any other name

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dangerouscommiesubversive · 4 years

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Gokaiger OT6? Prompt 10?

I have joked in the past about the Standard Issue Sentai Polycule but I feel like there’s sentai polycules in general and then there’s the Gokaigers. Anyway, 10 is a neck kiss, feels like we haven’t had one of those in a while, and this is basically a game of Telephone but with smooching. It’s also a little longer than a lot of the other prompt fics have been.

The weather is good, and Marvelous and Joe spar in the woods. They’ve agreed on no guns today, just swords, and it’s an easy rhythm; Joe will always be the better swordsman, but Marvelous can hold his own. They dance around each other, feint and dodge.

And then Joe pulls a second sword out from behind a tree and Marvelous grins at him and says, “You cheater!”

Joe just grins back and dodges another swing. “No such thing as cheating in a sword fight, Marvelous, you know that.”

Marvelous rolls his eyes and presses forward, and they continue to spar until Joe hits a root and loses his footing. Their swords are locked at the time, so they both hit the ground with a thump, blades tossed to the side just to keep from impaling themselves or each other. That means that now it’s a grappling contest, and in this kind of close combat Marvelous has the advantage. Within a few minutes, Marvelous has one of Joe’s arms twisted up behind his back, and Joe is swearing quietly.

“You gonna yield?”

“No, I can get out of this.”

“You sure?”

“You know I’m sure.”

Marvelous pauses, smirks, cinches the hold in a bit tighter, and then leans forward and kisses Joe in a very particular spot on the side of his neck, murmuring against his skin, “How about now?”

Joe stumbles. “You cheater.”

“No such thing as cheating in a sword fight, remember?”

Joe laughs breathlessly in response. “Ok, yeah, I yield.”

Joe finds Luka in the crow’s nest, as usual, and they stand side by side in silence, leaning against the railing as the sky shades into darkness and the stars come out. There’s a warm breeze, and the air smells very slightly of blooming flowers.

When the sun is nearly gone Luka says, not looking over at him, “So did you want something or did you just feel like hanging out?”

He shrugs. “Mostly I just wanted to watch the stars. I like how quiet it is up here.”

She makes a little “hm” noise and leans against him. “Yeah. Easier to see things right.”

More silence as the sun sets completely. It’s not dark for them, though; the moon is full, the sky is full of stars, and the city below them is full of light. Joe looks down at the top of Luka’s head thoughtfully and then bends and kisses her just behind the ear, which is a relatively easy spot to reach.

“Oh,” she says, “so you’re in that kind of mood.” Which is the sort of thing she’d say if she were annoyed, but she sounds more sly than anything. She looks up at him and raises an eyebrow.

He shrugs again, smiling very slightly. “Maybe, if you want. The moon’s full. It seemed like the right thing to do.”

Luka and Ahim sit together on the bed, and Luka brushes Ahim’s hair. She does so little with her own that it’s sort of nice to fuss with someone else’s, not that she’d ever admit this in public. When she was young she’d brush her sister’s hair, and braid it in patterns; Ahim isn’t her sister, and she’s forgotten most of the patterns, but it’s still calming.

She pulls the brush through dark waves and realizes that she’s only forgotten most of the patterns. There are still a few simple ones she could probably do. “Would you like me to braid it?”

She can see the edge of Ahim’s smile. “I would like that very much, please.”

“How many braids do you want?”

“Two would be lovely, thank you.”

“Ok.”

Her hands remember what her conscious mind’s forgotten, and after a moment she finds the exact rhythm, the careful lift and twist as she picks up more hair with each cross. It’s not complicated. If she had ribbon, she could work it in. Maybe she’ll do that next time.

Lift, twist, cross. Secure the end of one braid with a piece of elastic that Ahim passes to her. Start on the other side, lift, twist, cross, a simple woven pattern along the side of Ahim’s side.

When she finishes and secures the second braid she leans back and admires her handiwork, feeling pleased with herself, and then kisses the back of Ahim’s neck where the new style leaves it exposed. Ahim giggles. “You’re feeling very sweet today, Luka.”

“Yeah, that happens.” Luka grins at her when she looks back. “Don’t tell the others, ok?”

Everyone’s in the mood for dessert today, but Joe’s not in the mood to make cake, so Doc is showing Ahim how to make chocolate mousse. She holds the bowl for him as he beats egg whites, watching in fascination as they puff up and then holds their shape. “It’s extraordinary, isn’t it, how such a simple thing can change.”

He flashes a smile at her over the bowl. “Watching how things transform is one of my favorite things about cooking.“

After some brief instruction, she folds the egg whites into the chocolate without help, which gives him time to clean the mixer. When she’s sees what he’s doing, she frowns. “Did we not prepare enough eggs?”

“Oh no, no, now we’re doing whipped cream.” He pulls the heavy cream out of the refrigerator and measures it out carefully into a bowl. “That’s what really gives it the right texture. And then later once it’s set we’ll make extra to go on top.”

“Oh, lovely. May I try this time?”

“Sure, go ahead.”

She lowers the mixer in carefully, and he holds the bowl, only letting go once with one hand to add in sugar and orange extract as the cream thickens. The little galley already smells sweetly of melted chocolate; with the addition of oranges it’s heavenly.

“Ok,” he says, once the cream’s the right texture, “you can stop now.”

Ahim lifts the mixer, but her finger stays on the button a second too long; Doc nearly lets go of the bowl as the beaters spin and fling bits of whipped cream into both their faces. Ahim lets out a startled squeak. “Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry, I hadn’t intended that to happen.”

“It’s all right.” Doc grins, and then reaches out and swipes a bit of whipped cream off her nose with his finger and tastes it. “You still did a good job.”

“Why, thank you.” She drops a tiny curtsy, and then kisses him--although, since he’s already turning, she hits the side of his neck instead of his face. Fortunately there’s a bit of whipped cream where her lips land. “Oh, it does taste nice, how do we mix this in?”

Doc turns bright red. “I, ah. Like with the egg whites. We fold it.”

She beams at him. “Wonderful, may I do that too?”

“S-sure, I’ll. Get out cups to scoop it into while you’re doing that.”

Gai’s brought more books for them to read for research, and while the scrapbooks are very useful, Don finds that he enjoys the comics a bit more. They make everything seem more exciting, with their vigorous illustrations and dialogue balloons full of exclamation points. What must it have been like, to know that a host of brightly-colored strangers cared about your welfare? To grow up in a world full of heroes?

He doesn’t realize that he’s spoken out loud until Gai, sitting next to him on the couch regluing something in one of the scrapbooks, says, “It felt really safe. It was nice.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”

“No, it’s fine, I don’t need to concentrate hard to do this! Anyway, it’s a fair question. It felt safe. And then...well, then they were all gone at once.”

Gai rarely looks so solemn. It’s a shock to see now, and Don frowns. “I wasn’t trying to bring up painful memories, I apologize.”

“Don’t worry about it!” Like that, the solemn look is gone. “How could I be that sad about it when I’m one of them now? We’re carrying on what they all did. That’s amazing!”

Gai’s broad smile is infectious, and Don realizes that he’s smiling too. “I guess you’re right. It’s certainly something.”

“Isn’t it? Oh, are you enjoying the comics, should I bring more? I have more.”

“I’d like that, please.” The smile is too infectious; Don can’t concentrate. And Gai looks like he’s waiting for something else, and it might as well be a kiss, so Don leans over to kiss him--and overbalances, landing on him instead. Which seems as good a reason as any to kiss him anyway, on the side of his laughter-filled throat, which makes Gai laugh more, and that’s always good.

Gai takes what seems to be an unwholesome enjoyment from cleaning, and Marvelous is deeply suspicious of it. With Doc he’s come to accept that it’s just how the man is, but then, Doc also occasionally nags him about being messy. Gai, however, seems enthusiastic about it, and that’s just strange.

Anyway, it’s way too late to be cleaning now, if they’re the only two left in the common area, and Marvelous decides to do something about it. “Will you cut that out, you can finish in the morning.”

Gai bounces to his feet. “Sure, if you want. Oh, which team are you looking at?”

“The card guys, JAKQ? Who’s this guy in the hat over here?”

“Oh, that’s a different hero, not a member of the team. But he looked a lot like Big One. I’ve always kinda had a theory that they were secretly the same person. There’s even a third one who also looks like them, but I couldn’t find a good picture of him.”

“Huh. I didn’t know this planet had other heroes.”

“Yeah, a few, they also kind of...disappeared during the war. I’m not sure what happened to them.” Gai comes over and perches on the arm of his chair, reaching out to tap another picture. “See, that’s the logo for one of them. They’re cool too.”

“You’ll have to tell me about them sometime.” Marvelous looks up at his delighted grin. “They sound interesting.”

“I’d love to. I have another scrapbook about them, I can find it soon and we’ll look at it together.”

“Good.” Marvelous turns the page. “I’d enjoy that. Here, you’re in my elbow room, quit it.” He wraps an arm around Gai’s waist and pulls the other man into his lap, shifting the scrapbook so it’s balanced on his knees. “So what’s the deal with these guys?”

“Well, they were from all over the world.”

“Their suits are goddamn wild.”

“Yeah, the outfits then were really different.”

They flip through pages until Gai’s yawning and Marvelous has to blink to keep his eyes open, and then Marvelous closes the book and stands up with Gai in his arms. “Sleep now. More heroes or whatever tomorrow.”

Gai rests his head against Marvelous’ shoulder, grinning sleepily, and then kisses the hollow of his throat where his shirt’s unbuttoned. “Yeah. Sleep sounds nice.”

#captain marvelous #joe gibken #luka millfy #ahim de famille #don dogoier #ikari gai #gokaiger #fanfiction #anonamouse

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unikornu · 4 years

Photo

Page 9, The Right Rythm

-Slow down there Boss, we are just halfway through the evening. Gage snapped the beer from Lucy's hand and took a sip himself. They were sitting at the corner table in Cappy's Cafe while the pack was drinking themselves dead after getting the news about taking Safari park. Keith was almost running around them trying to keep up with delivering the drinks to the thirsty savages and not to slip on blood that he still didn't manage to clean after last fool that tried to push on alpha crap against Mason. Meanwhile Lauren was just happy to squeeze more caps and making sure no one is disturbing the business couple, having her shotgun ready under the bar.

- Hey, cmon i deserve a break after dealing with that rampage zoo crocodiles... she rolled her eyes and sighted deeply.

-Gators, Boss...they are gators. Not crocodiles, jezz. Have a bit of respect since they almost tore us apart. Gage shook a finger in her face and passed the bottle back. -And, hey that is actually my beer, get your own booze woman. Gage protested but she turned away and gulped down everything that was left.

-You mean that "was" your beer. Ye...sorry, i forgot my "purse" at home. She hiccupped and smiled with one corner of her lips. He scratched the back of his head and looked away trying to stay serious.

It has been a completely crazy turn around in her life, from being lost and lonely, squeezed between what is right and not, almost giving up on herself. Now she is the leader to the people for which rules exist only to not kill each other and in the name of profit. Nisha was damn right about it at least. The rules..they stopped existing at the moment people started dropping bombs on each other officially.

Lucy kissed goodbye her pre-war memories and moral backbone once again in Far Harbor, the night that Nucleus threw away its last radioactive breath in the air. She wasn't saint back then, before the bombs either, having a loving partner, living good, almost luxurious life while working with one of the most crooked figures in the crime society as personal assistant and agent. Once it was all gone within one explosion she missed mostly the warm and calm feeling, landing up in the bed, feeling safe with someone who she trusts and trusts her back. Now, passing each week in Nuka World it feels again like she has that warm spot again but this time it's better because no lies were included, to anyone, not even herself. Crime life was luring her from the very beginning to its bloody and thirsty claws but she wanted to be smart about it, not getting caught guaranteed that wheels and cogs kept moving forward into the direction they wanted, not the one they are told to pick. And justice was always served blindly and flat, rules were rules and no one cared about flipping the coin to the other side or treating each case in its own light. And she never dared to question her pre-war boss who trainer her and shaped into the sharpest tool he could ever have.

Lucy muttered under her nose being lost in her philosophical thoughts and past, staring at the raiders in the background but she snapped out when the cold wet glass touched her shoulder.

-Lets have another round and then head back, taking another park doesn't mean that the job is done for us eh? She took a beer he handed her opening slightly her mouth to say something but nothing came out.

-You okay, Boss? You seemed very interested into the void you've been staring at the last five minutes while i was trying to get us beer without punching anyone on the way. Raider sat back across the table and raised a bottle to give it a gentle hit with hers before taking a long sip.

-Gage...what made you the person you are now? I would like to hear your part of the past since we seem to be stuck together a while now.

-How i became a foul mouthed one eyed son of a bitch? He pushed his chair closer and crossed his both hands on the table. -Ye...well, fair enough but that will cost us yet another beer.

Lucy managed to scrape few more caps from the pocket and pushed them towards him. - I'm all ears then.

- I grew up in a typical settlement like many out there, being an ordinary kid but i realized fast that my parents were just a couple of pushovers, cowards, same as the rest of dem folks...no one there would stand up for himself and as a kid i couldn't understand why. Was pretty much rebellious from the start, rules were not to my liking too much...so one day i see them kneeling down again because of some stupid fuck with a gun and i just realized i won't end up like them, not like this. Gage poped a cigarette from the pack and light it up while continuing his story on how he was also lost, looking for a place that would make his guts feel right while trying to get by day by day doing various jobs and assisting in caravans.

-They always took what they wanted and were on their way, no talking, no deals, just pure will to do what you want, take what you want to survive. Those were the only rules that made sense and stick to my head back then so when i met a gang again i joined up and worked my way up, all the way here. The only reason i ain't dead yet tho is that i knew how to put a barrier between doing what ya want and losing control. He popped open a lighter and put a fire under a cigarette that Lucy gently placed between her lips.

-What about you, Boss? We all know your famous story of being the living human ice cube but...what was before exactly, that gal like you wants to nest with a bunch of dirty bastards like us even after war, hm? He scanned her smooth face ignoring the scar across her eye as he saw enough of them in his life and smashed the cigarette in the ashtray.

-Well, back then being the one against the rules would put you very fast out of the game, in jail or worse and i didn't want that to happen. Seeing the world out of system and its underground opened my eyes too. I thought that becoming a lawyer i would be de one serving the right justice but i realized my hands were always tied by someone above...the system so i...took the other path and did what i think was right. Secretly turned to a crime part of life, saw all of it. Fell deeper and deeper and became liking it, living it, maybe a bit too much at times. And now this world...? No laws, no jail, everyone with his own life and gun, it just feels...right, for me at least. I don't have to lie anymore to anyone. She puffed a cloud of smoke into Gage's face and finished her beer.

As the time passed half of the raiders were dead drunk lying down all over the cafe. Gage and Lucy decided its a good moment to leave so they stood up from the table and walked over the drunks while heading to the exit.

They strolled back to Fizztop in silence, side by side, she knew her right hand man wasn't much of a talker so he had his well deserved break of silence, all the way to the top. It didn't last any longer tho. She turned on the radio and took her metal chest piece down, throwing it to the side.

- I have a gift for you...but i will want something in return. She kneeled next to bed pulling something round and white from under it, hiding it in her arms as she approached him at the couch.

-What kind of gift it is then that ya want something back for it eh? Gage was sitting on the couch like a true raider, with his arms crossed and legs spread awaiting for the reveal of surprise.

-Well, we are raiders after all huh, nothin ain't free like that? Anyway...i noticed you seem to be fond of certain...creatures while they were trying to eat us alive and i stumbled upon this in the pool in the reptile house. Gage relaxed his arms slowly and stood up with a surprised look in his eyes as she reveled her gift. It was...shiny and round, barely damaged.

-Boss...is it... a goddamnfucking gator egg? I...ayee.. dunno wut to say, shit. Will it actually...you know, pop out at some point? He asked and took it gently with his both hands running the fingers across the smooth shell and then putting it carefully on the pillow at the couch. - It might actually. Would be a decent addition once Mason or you train it properly. She nodded at him, her arms crossed this time, tapping a finger against her upper arm awaiting to hear the magic words that for Gage felt almost like grinding a sand paper against his tongue.

-Fuck...thank you, Boss. I will try not to break it i swear. There it was, finally. He smiled at her but this time it was a truly honest smile, the one that very few had occasion to see.

-Now my part of the deal big guy, dance with me. Gage smile turned fast into a half opened mouthed expression.

-Pardon...wut? Dance? Hell no. He shook his head and watched her snatching two shots of whiskey and coming back right at him.

-Cmoooon, this will help to loose that tension both in your legs and your head, and we are alone. Cmoon Gage, just one dance, i wouldn't trust anyone else with it after all those years... Her words, the trust, felt honest and warm in his ears.

-Shit...fine. But just that one time, Boss. I'm embarrassing myself here. He sighted and took down a shot in one gulp. They threw the empty shots away, the glass shattering into small pieces on the floor. He untied his rusty gold armor and threw it to the side letting it slide away.

-Let me show ya, and no back stabbing okay? Lucy joked and gently took his right hand and placed it on her back while putting her left hand right under back of his shoulder. Then she raised her right hand and ordered him to do the same.

-Stabbing...with this kind of dancing they were almost asking for it.

He tried not to look directly in her amber shiny eyes reflecting the night lights of Grillie's bar but it was proving difficult with so little free space left between them. As she started to guide him slowly after few stiff steps he finally gave in and relaxed. Did he felt embarrassed swinging around like that? Yeah. But deal is a deal and after so much effort and blood and bullets put together into taking the Nuka World he could let himself be embarrassed like that for a few minutes in exchange. Beside both of them could finally admit that they trust each other at this point, a bit at least.

#fallout 4 #fo4 #nuka world #lucy's diary #lucy feit #porter gage #screenshot #thrax's action poses

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until-we-fall-in-love · 5 years

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Into the Hush: Chapter One

Into the Hush Masterlist

Pairings: Bucky Barnes/Reader, Wanda Maximoff/Reader undertones

Summary: It's only ever been you and the rugged wilderness; both unkempt and undomesticated. Until it isn't anymore.

(1870s Cowboy AU. A/B/O AU. Gothic/horror.)

Warnings: Violence, gore, dark themes, A/B/O dynamics, smut in later chapters.

If you are under 18, you should not be reading this!

A/N: howdy ya’ll lol don’t know how i came up with this one but it’s an A/B/O cowboy historical gothic au. it’s gonna get dark! also gonna be a real nasty slow burn lmaooo so mind the warnings, if you don’t do well with gore or violence, perhaps this isn’t the fic for you. also if you don’t like the Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, this isn’t for you, either, though i will be taking some liberties with this and trying to give my own take on it because there are aspects of it that i don’t like lol. im not quite sure how long this series will be, but i have plans for it. that being said, saddle up pardner lol and pls let me know what you thought of this first chapter!!!!

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Wyoming, 1872

The early morning air is crisp with new spring, cold and a little damp, dew glistening on the grass and glinting gold in the morning sun. Your breath still comes out in soft puffs that curl into the air as you step out onto your creaking, front porch. It overlooks the barren dirt road that leads up to your humble and charming farmhouse; weathered by time and storm and pleasantly cluttered with life and home at every turn. Off to the left is the freshly tilled ground that has been planted in; herbs and fruits and vegetables that will take over in the warm summer months. Trees have shaken the snow from them and have turned green and budding and new again.

You wrap your shawl tighter around your shoulders, trying to gather more warmth from the worn cream, crochet wrap. You know once the sun rises higher into the afternoon, you’ll grow too warm for it, but now it’s needed. The wind curls around you, rustles your hair, lifts your skirts. It carries the promise of warmth, the reminder of winter.

All is peaceful in the morning, before the day has broken over the hills. All that sings is the birds, lovely and bright and flitting from tree to tree.

You lift your skirts, head over to the back porch, which wraps the entire way along your house. In the back is the barn, the pasture for the animals to graze when it’s warm. The creek towards the back, bubbling softly over the stones, crystal clear and cool. It’s perfect on a summer afternoon, but now would be too cold for you.

And you begin your day, head over to the shed where you ready the feed for the chickens, grab a basket for eggs. You enter the coop, greet the clucking hens with a coo, spreading food for them which they hurry to eagerly. As they eat, you gently reach for warm eggs in their nest, gather it into your basket and rush on to your other chores.

Milk the cows, get them fresh water, fresh hay and in the afternoon, you’ll let them out in the pasture to warm in the sun.

A few of them are round with calves, ready to give birth any day now.

You tend to the single horse, only one now after your father’s male passed away last spring. The one left is yours; a dappled, brown mare you’ve affectionately called Clover.

You’ll take her to town later, to sell extra eggs and milk, all the goods you can in exchange for bread or spices or money for the tax collector. By the time you’re finished with your chores, which is taking longer and longer as the farm extends and your father grows older and older, it’s around noon, the sun beginning to warm into pleasant rays of topaz and canary.

Your father sits on the porch, in his old rocking chair, smoking a pipe. His knee has been bad since this past fall, has a harder and harder time helping you. Not that you mind; this farm has practically become yours, but he hates leaving you to it all alone.

He’s been dying to set you up with an Alpha, find a good man to marry and help you with the farm. But none of the men from town pique your interest, few good Alphas in the small town of Longbrook, Wyoming. The train, not far from town, brings newcomers once and awhile, but it’s mostly quiet, tucked away in a valley, a river snaking its way through and out into the plains of wildflowers and fields.

You know Longbrook’s secrets, the quiet, beautiful places that you run to when you have the time. Spend your evenings lazing in columbine and aster flowers, beneath old, crooked trees near quiet, turquoise lakes. Or on a bluff, looking high above the world, cool wind in your face and the fluttering of birds nearer to you than planted on the grounds below.

You know where not to stray to, when the wilderness grows too rough and dangerous. Unrestrained in both it’s beauty and viciousness.

So independent that you can’t quite imagine your life beside another, especially not beside an Alpha, with their combative, controlling natures. You can’t imagine a husband that wouldn’t mind you taking off, disappearing into the wilderness and returning when you fancy; like some feral cat, your father always remarks gruffly.

He isn’t a fan of your disappearing acts, either. Alpha that he is, he’s kept careful and close watch on you since you discovered you were Omega, as irritating as it is. Controlling, but only because he means well. You manage to sate him by coming home before nightfall, when dusk is lavender and rose and the moon is only beginning to take the sun’s place. Besides, there’s not much he can do with his bad knee, can’t keep you cooped up the way he used to.

Ever since your mother had passed, you had to step up around the farm, grow up a little too quick. Responsible and resourceful, you work hard for you and your father. But your father has grown rather overprotective, wary with the Alphas he let come around; well respected in the town, no one has dared disobey him. A few had tried; Brock Rumlow, the tax collector, was the most notable of them. Pushy and irksome, he’d tried to convince you to disobey, sway you to sneak out with him or let him come by but you always turned your nose up at him.

You have no interest in someone so aggressive, so controlling.

You aren’t one to roll over or lower your eyes submissively; many Omegas aren’t, in your opinion, but it’s expected. There’s no time for that, though, not for you. No use or desire for it. You have a farm to take care of, to keep running smoothly. You have a life to live, adventures to have, open sky to chase.

And there’s certainly nothing and no one that’s going to stop you.

“Be careful goin’ into town,” Your father speaks up finally, smoke curling from his lips, voice rough and fogged, “Heard there was a few newcomers.”

Your father is always wary of newcomers, prefers to assess them himself, rather than hear from others.

“Yes, pa.” You respond, not particularly interested in them, nor sticking around for one of your father’s infamous lectures. You hurry on, grabbing all that you need, loading up Clover for the journey. You saddle her up, throw yourself over her with practiced ease, hitching your skirts up slightly and out of the way.

“Be home by nightfall!” Your father hollers after you, but you’re already easing Clover onto the dirt path.

“Of course!” You call back, just as you urge her into a faster pace, your voice carries on the wind, distant and as light as the new blossoms.

You push her into a gallop; not because there’s a rush, but because it’s fun. Because the wind is in your hair and the sun is warm on your shoulders and Clover thunders across the ground, kicking up dirt and making a mess.

You let a grin hitch onto the corner of your lips, lean forward, ease into the speed. The town is only a twenty minute ride, fifteen if you pushed, but you want to enjoy the ride. The landscape blurs past you in shades of olive and juniper, butter cream, robin’s egg blue. The pop of lily white, a sudden burst of dainty pink or blushing red. But it’s just you and the trees and the pounding of your heart along the beat of hooves against the solid ground.

Free and open and bursting, you race away from home eagerly and into the wilderness.

You end up slowing Clover halfway through your journey, appreciating the spring air, new and linen clean, shadowed patterns falling over you beneath the trees. The wind tickles your cheeks, the distant sound of the river can be heard when you listen carefully, a soft rush of water. It’s soothing, like the creek by your house, the sloshing lake you visit often. You let it carry you into town, peaceful, lazily letting Clover step onto more worn dirt roads.

Town people shout to you in greeting, wave as you pass by; you’re a familiar face to them. You give them smiles, holler back to some as you make your way to the grocers to sell your eggs and milk. You swing down from Clover, hopping easily onto your feet.

You end up walking out of the grocer’s with some extra money and a few cans of preserved vegetables and fruits. You buy some bread at the bakery, a pastry to split with Wanda, who you’re hoping can join you for the afternoon.

You catch sight of her outside the dress shop, peering at the finely made clothes through the window. She wears her own dress of dove grey, similar in fashion to yours rather than the ones she gazes at; your dresses are looser, easier to move and work and play in, aprons tied around your waists instead of the ruffles and frill of the dresses in the window. Her long curls cascade over her shoulders, near copper under the afternoon sun.

You call to her, watch as her features light up upon seeing you, before she picks her skirts up and bounds over to you. Her scent hits you; sweetly Omega, soft clary sage, warm rose, and damp patchouli. Mysterious and floral, she’s always been a little offbeat with her wide, wondering eyes that linger in darkness.

Some of the elders call her a witch, little demon child, with her Eastern European ties and mischievous curl of her lips. But to you she is only Wanda, your dearest.

Her fingers, nimble and quick, find yours, lock and lace together. “Hello, darling.” She says, pressing her lips to your cheek in greeting, her voice melodic and smooth; velvet dark and sweet twilight.

You let your cheek brush hers, lean into the touch eagerly, soft, rosy and warm skin against yours. “Hello, Wanda.”

She pulls back with a flutter of her lashes, wide eyes finding yours. There’s a familiar glimmer in them, which makes your heart leap amorously, excited and playful. “Are we going to sneak off to the meadow today, still?” She asks, dropping her voice to a hush and stepping nearer. Your hands tighten over hers as you draw closer, duck your head so you catch another breeze of her scent in her hair, the nape of her neck.

“Yes,” You reply, an eager smile pulling at your lips, “I bought us a pastry to split and a book to read.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” She nearly purrs, bouncing lightly on her toes in excitement. You’re about to pull her along, drag her towards Clover when someone clears their throat behind you.

You both turn, fingers still interwoven, pressed to one another’s sides. Her warmth is welcome and comforting, especially as you both find Rumlow gazing back at the pair of you with depthless, cold eyes. His face, so marred and twisted, gleams pink and shiny with scarred and new skin under the afternoon light. The rays of white gold sunlight do nothing to lighten his features, nor the darkness of his gaze.

It pierces deep into you, as if he wants to pry and prod and pick you cleanly apart. It’s the gaze of a conqueror, you think, the gaze of someone who wants something that can never be theirs. It’s a disturbing hunger, the kind that sends a deep chill down your spine.

Wanda squeezes your hand in comfort. So attuned to you, she perhaps can tell by body language or the dip in your scent that you’re frightened in some way, that Rumlow has caused you distress and he has yet to even open his jagged, scarred mouth.

“Lovely afternoon for you ladies.” He says very coldly, as if he is not in fact concerned with the weather nor you both.

“Yes, it is.” Wanda replies for you, a dark, protective little gleam in her eyes. You can smell the shift of scent with her light aggression, the flare of sage that burns and tickles your nose. It sharpens and spices, makes you blink with it.

“You’re both looking mighty fine, rich with spring. Omegas always were sweetest in spring. Isn’t that right?” He muses and it chills you to the bone, makes you press closer to Wanda’s side, as if you could fold into the safety of her body.

There is old folklore; spring being associated with Omegas. It’s all about fertility and the new life that blossoms in spring, old wives’ tales of Omegas getting their strongest heats in the spring after long, dormant winters. Perhaps there is some truth to it, biologically, because winter can get so harsh and so sparse with food if one isn’t careful. Bearing children in winter would never be easy, but it’s something you don’t wish to linger on, particularly not with the way Rumlow is eyeing you.

Like ripening fruit to be picked. A flower blooming, awaiting the moment to pluck it from the earth.

Wanda grows uncomfortable now, too, you can feel it in the bunching of her slim shoulders. But she steps in front of you purposefully, a show of challenge to Rumlow, one of protection for you.

“Isn’t that right, ladies?” Rumlow urges, taking a step forward and Wanda sharply takes a step back, forcing you back as well. You cling to the back of her skirts with tense, seeking fingers.

“I sure hope you’re not botherin’ these girls.” Another voice speaks up, authoritative and strong and sure. The kind of voice that gives commands, ones you think many eagerly would follow. Not unkind, but unwavering. When you both turn to the source, it’s a blond man, broad shouldered and wide and tall. He’s dressed simply, the top few buttons of his shirt popped open to reveal a muscled chest. Pretty, light blue eyes. He has an honest face, a strong jaw, trustworthy and noble.

His scent is distinctly Alpha, strong and commanding; cedar wood and leather. The soft notes of something gentler like cotton and the way your linen smells on a summer day fluttering in the breeze to be dry. It’s soothing, a deep comfort compared to the off-beat, metal tang and sour blood smell of Rumlow’s scent.

Which, has become bitter and salty with his anger and aggression for this newcomer.

“I wasn’t bothering them. Was I bothering you Omegas?” He asks sharply, prickling with agitation and it makes you grip Wanda’s skirts a little tighter. “And who are you, anyways?” He then almost growls, “Newcomer isn’t gonna tell me what to do.”

You can tell Rumlow’s itching to pick a fight by the tightening of his shoulders and baring of his teeth. The air becomes charged with scent, territorial and angry and pungent. Wanda’s is still spiced and agitated, too, with the threat of Rumlow. Your own is dipped into distress, irritation, and the newcomer’s becomes stronger, cedar wood sharp. Rooted in place, he cocks his head slightly, challenging.

“Why don’t you move along.” The newcomer says, and he’s not asking, he’s telling. It’s bold of him, with the way Rumlow’s face; twisted and angry, settles on him. No one challenges Rumlow in this town. He holds too much power, is too strong; both physically and socially. Even protected by the law by being a tax collector for Alexander Pierce.

Another man steps up behind the blond, eyeing Rumlow with particularly cold and dark eyes; midnight blue, the evening sky bleary with stars, depthless and all consuming. His hair is longer, brushing the tops of his shoulders, half pulled back from his strong face--

When your eyes settle upon his features for the first time, it feels as if you’ve been struck; a blow of lightning, the sudden shock of cold water, the gasp you take when you resurface. It’s damning, you think, as if you’ve seen him in your dreams or in hazy, unknown past lives. As if you’ve known him your whole life, somehow, as if you recognize him now and wonder how you ever could’ve forgotten him.

He looks like the tragic heroes you read about; the ones that rise only to fall, crumble down after being so noble and wide-eyed. He is breathtaking and standing tall and strong against Rumlow’s piercing gaze. There’s a warning in his eyes, a half-dare, begging Rumlow to try something and see what happens now. Where the blond is golden-hearted and bright-eyed, he seems darker, more eclipsed.

And surprisingly, it works, Rumlow eyes the pair of them, weighs his options, and then promptly steps down. He mutters something about leaving, about how this isn’t the end. But you can’t help the quirk of a smile, the hint of cruel amusement you get from watching him ease away. Slink off back into the hustle of town.

Wanda smiles wider than you, sharper, a little more mischievous, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Rumlow cower like that.” She says and turns towards the newcomers with a radiance that is hard to match.

And the blond smiles, easy and gentle, “Glad we could help.” And then with deep courtesy, “Steve Rogers, by the way.”

“Wanda Maximoff.” She pulls you back up to her side once more, offers your name to them, too.

Steve claps the other man on the shoulder, an ease is shared between them that is not unsimilar to you and Wanda. Steve adds, “James Buchanan. But we just call him Bucky.”

And Bucky nods, his eyes finally sliding over to you; his scent hits you at nearly the same time. Offbeat and pine, the sharp, cold smell of metal. There’s evergreen and winter, maybe the soft spice of juniper, the low cut of musk. It makes your eyes flutter, makes your head go soft and bleary with it.

“Pleasure to meet you both.” Wanda says and her voice refocuses you, her fingers skimming yours to ground you. You flit your eyes away, but can feel Bucky’s suddenly sink over you the way the red sun will drop below the hills.

You become keenly aware of your bare neck, hair pulled from your face and shoulders to reveal it to him. The cut of your dress suddenly seems both revealing and not revealing enough. Like it could constrict you, or maybe you’re showing too much skin.

“What brings you here?” You ask, perhaps a little cooly, eyes seeking out the horizon rather than them. Anything but him.

“Passing through. Looking for work for a few weeks.” Steve answers politely and his eyes glitter like the creek in the high summer. He’s pretty, you think, long lashes framing those eyes.

“Oh!” Wanda exclaims and she loops her arm through yours solidly, her body warm and soft beside you, “You’re in luck! She needs help running her farm!”

You almost choke. Throw Wanda a glare but she only meets you with that impish, precious smile you can’t stay mad at for very long.

“I don’t--” You try to protest.

“She does!” Wanda interjects, “Her father injured his knee awhile ago, been looking for someone to help out.”

“Well, if that’s the case, then perhaps Buck and I will have to stop by.” Steve says easily, a half amused grin tugging at his lips as he gazes between you and Wanda. Almost as if he’s endeared by your antics. You bristle.

“My father doesn’t take to newcomers very well.” You warn, as if that’ll scare these two Alphas away so easily after their little stunt with Rumlow. You worry that few things will scare these two off.

Regardless you don’t need them on your farm, don’t need them trying to help or care for you or order you around. It’s always been you, and no one will change that. You’re not about to let them treat you like some soft, little creature who should be inside baking them pies and fetching them water.

But you can feel Bucky’s eyes on your face still, as if he’s trying to burrow in there, make a home upon which he gazes.

You grow even tenser, teeth grinding. No home to find inside you; just the unruliness of nature, the ever-changing seasons, or unforgivable storms. The river that churns too fast, dives between the mountains and the forests, the sly, sharp-toothed fox.

You turn your nose up, “Besides,” You say, insolent and dry, “I don’t really need any help.”

“‘Course.” Steve agrees and you aren’t sure if it’s to placate you or if he’s genuine, “But if you’re looking for an extra pair of hands to order around, we’re your guys.”

“I’ll keep it in mind.” You say, though decidedly won’t.

Daring yourself, you finally force your eyes to Bucky once more. His face is stern and closed off, reserved. He hasn’t spoken once, and stupidly, horribly, you long to hear his voice. You wonder what it sounds like, if it’s rough or smooth or everything at once. Does he speak loudly or softly? Will you have to lean in to hear him or will you step back at the crack of it?

And yet, he hasn’t needed it once yet. His presence, formidable and strong and raw, is enough.

You blink, look away just as he glances back at you. This strange game of cat and mouse with eyes is making your fingers twitch and tighten in your skirts.

“We should be off,” You tell Wanda, wishing to flee, to feel the wind on your face and Wanda’s body beside yours and the afternoon sun bursting on your skin.

Steve wishes the pair of you well, gentlemanly and sweet. Tips his hat with a boyish sort of grin that perhaps would leave other’s swooning.

And Bucky, gruffly, and with a sort of gentleness you aren’t expecting to find, says to you, “It was nice meeting you both.”

Something warm settles into your chest, sliding down like molasses, dripping into your stomach and core, spreading throughout you like it owns you; settles deep into you like it won’t leave, real deep into the marrow of your bones. And you inhale, breathe as if this is your first real breath in the whole of your life.

You find yourself replying, almost as softly, “It was nice to meet you, too.”

His lips twitch upwards in the barest hint of a smile, as if it’s the first time he’s smiled in a long, long time and he needs you to show him how again.

So you do, you give him your own smile that isn’t much bigger, but it’s much easier and sweet as honey, clever as a fox. Almost like you want him to chase you, follow that curve of your lips.

Wanda giggles, before pulling you away and back towards Clover to begin your adventure for the day, but you think you can feel the dark of his eyes on the back of your neck still, the line of your shoulders. It lingers, until you ride off into the heather hills with her and disappear on the gauzy horizon.

---

Wanda and you roll in the wild grass on the sloping hills. Laughing and chasing and playing like you’re girls again, half-savage and free and untempered. You tumble and shriek and hitch up your skirts, loosen your dresses and unbutton collars. The sun is a gold glow, warming the earth and your skin, shimmering dreamlike on the new green buds, the wheat yellow of the tall grass. You tip your face up to the sky eagerly, just as you let yourself flop back into the field, back hitting the ground that catches your fall, cradles you. Clouds pass overhead in cotton shapes, free and darling, and you’re still breathing a little hard from romping around with Wanda, feeling your heartbeat inside the cage of your chest. You feel flushed with life; ferocious and curious and excited.

Wanda drops down by your feet, before slowly, languidly crawling atop you. She straddles your waist, her skirts spilling out over the two of you. You sit up on your elbows, jostle and try to dislodge her a little with another round with warm laughter, but she holds fast, nails digging into your shoulders.

“I saw the way you were looking at Bucky.” She says and there’s too much mischief in her eyes, a clever glint that the sun turns amber and honey hazel.

You roll your eyes at her, but even the mention of his name on her lips makes something inside of you stir. But you indulge her, leveling her with an unamused gaze, “And how was that, Wanda?”

She leans over you, her fiery hair brushing your cheek, your shoulders. She fits herself closer, twines her arms around you all close and snug.

“Like you wanted to bare your throat to him right then and there.” She teases playfully, voice dipping into a warm, rumbling purr. Her nose drops, nuzzles lightly at the sensitive scent gland at your neck. It makes you squirm, your fingers tightening in the skirts of her dress.

You allow her so close, allow lips and teeth and nose into the dips of your body because she’s so familiar to you. A piece of your heart is firmly in her small, warm hands. It blurs the thin, unsteady line between you two, though. Scenting at the neck is usually romantic in some way; often times sexual. Comforting, when it needs to be, but you’ve laid so many times with Wanda, gotten so close and tangled together that you often find your nose at her throat, the nape of her neck, tucking your face into the crooks of her body and she to you. You know her like a lover, you think, sink into her body beneath the sun and the moon and the open skies that spread out before you both. As if the whole world opens for you two.

“Your scent got sweeter; milky lavender and dark jasmine.” Her lashes tickle your collar bones, her mouth warm and open against the skin there. It makes you flush deeply, sink into the earth beneath you, “Want him to bite you?” She jibes, flashes pearly teeth, her canine gleaming in that white sun.

“Wanda!” You yelp, shoving at her and she throws her head back and laughs, “No!” And you begin to wrestle with her once more, pushing her off and sending you both tumbling down another hill. You shriek and peel with laughter, pulling and grabbing at each other until you roll apart.

She gets on her hands and knees, feigns a growl from an Alpha in her throat, the kind that rumbles out from deep within them, but the sound is a little muted, and too light in her mouth. She suddenly pounces for you again, playful and light, sending you belly up and onto your back, though. “You want him to tackle you like this,” She torments, grabbing at your wrists as you try and squirm and fight with her.

With a grunt and all your strength, you roll her right onto her back now, hook your legs over her hips like she did.

“You want to simper and cry under him,” She says and this time her voice gets soft and breathy and pouty and she is good at that. Her back arches beneath you and you push at her more, tighten your hands around her wrists, shove them down to the ground, feel her heaving chest and trace the curve of her smiling lips and rose touched cheeks with eager eyes.

“I don’t!” You laugh, playfully bare your teeth at her and try and growl back the way she had. It’s better than hers, a little more bite to it, but it’s still too light and soft. She laughs with you at your attempt now, laughs and growls and yells with you until you’re both breathless because there is nothing and no one around to hear you but each other.

You howl and chase and fall into each other with giggles and wildflowers in your hair, get lost in her and the way the sun begins to fall from the sky and cast everything in a rosewood haze, slow and burning and beautiful.

She lays her cheek on your back when you ride Clover back to her home, and she kisses you goodnight, lips at the corner of yours. Promises to see you tomorrow.

And then you ride home, race fast and hard before the sun is swallowed by the moon, before the stars blink into existence and your father scolds you to all hell and back.

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

Home seems eerie with the darkness that creeps around its edges, night drawing out all the creeks and aches and splinters in the old house. All the memories pushed towards the back of your mind rush forward like skittering spiders. The last sliver of light sits on the horizon, fighting, railing against that inky sky as you get home.

And when you rush through the front door, shouting, “Pa, I’m home before the sun’s set!” You aren’t expecting to nearly run right into the broad chest of Steve Rogers.

You blink hard and he steadies you with a hushed, “Easy,” And his big hands on your shoulders.

You look up at him in disbelief, brows furrowing, quickly lurching away from him, only to realize Bucky stands to his right.

“What--” You start to snap, and this time your teeth are baring with aggression and irritation, gone is the lightness and playfulness you had with Wanda. Your eyes flash with the last cut of light that slashes through the old windows of your house.

“There’s my feral cat of a daughter, fellas.” Your father says and your head whirls to him.

He begins to introduce the three of you again, but you cut him off, “I met ‘em today, Pa.”

“Oh, good.” He says dryly, unappreciative of your tone. You force back a wince, know you’ll get scolded for that one. “They’ll be helping you out on the farm for a few weeks.”

You whip back to face Steve and Bucky, narrow your eyes at them, “Thought I told you both I don’t need any help?” You snap, unruly, wildflowers still caught in your hair that now slips free of what it’d been pulled back in earlier. You’re sure you look half-wild.

Steve holds up his hands as if he means no harm, palms up to you and you see they’re rough and calloused and scarred. Used, working hands. Hands that have seen a lot. You glance at Bucky, notice that one of his hands is gloved, the other free. You try not to stare, flit your eyes back to Steve.

“In our defense, we didn’t know this was your farm. We were sent this way after inquiring in town for work.” Steve says calmly, and then puts his hand over his heart, “Honest.”

You scoff lightly, turn back to your father, “I don’t need them, Pa.”

“No,” He agrees and pride swells in you, a small bubble of it for a heartbeat, “But they’d be a great help to you.”

There’s no amount of arguing or protesting that’s gonna change your father’s mind once it’s been set. He seems settled on this, content and confident. You try not to pout, try not to stamp your feet or snap or glare them right out of your house.

Final discussions are had; pay and what times they’ll arrive and leave. Your father, thankfully, warns them to listen to you, and if he finds differently, they’ll be kicked to the dirt as quickly as they’d gotten the job.

And then he warns them, quite frankly, to mind themselves around you and you can feel your cheeks deepen into crimson. Bucky and Steve dip their heads, though, say obedient and firm, yes sir’s, as if they expected it.

Your father finishes with, “Alright, then. You two start tomorrow.” And then he looks to you, “Walk them out, will you?”

You huff, but do so, walk them to the porch where the crickets and frogs have begun to chirp and croak and sing. The night crawls onward, the wind rattles this old house. A chill overcomes you, a little shudder. You think you can hear the far-off sound of baying coyotes, erie and high pitched in their frenzied yelping.

“Suppose I’ll see you both bright and early in the morning, then.” You say, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Suppose so.” Steve says, lowers his eyes a little, “I did mean it, we didn’t know this was your farm.”

You eye him, “Nothin’ I can do about it now, is there?” You counter, unwilling to give an inch, no matter how sweetly he looks at you with those darling, blue eyes. You’re sure that boyish charm works everywhere else, but you refuse to let it here.

He has the good sense to dip his head submissively, nodding slightly, “We’ll get out of your hair for the night then, let you rest. Goodnight, ma’am.” He says respectfully, before easing down off the old wood that protests beneath his heavy steps.

And for a heartbeat, it is only you and Bucky and the rattling tree branches and the croaking night. A moment frozen, as if you’d captured it in a bottle like a letter that you’ll throw into the sea. Just this sliver of time that makes the whole world stand still, as if it’s been waiting or fearing for your coming together.

You have nothing to say, but he inclines his head, holds your eyes like he’s holding the world in his arms, and murmurs all low and rumbling, “Goodnight, miss.”

Then turns his back on you, and hustles over to Steve, to their tethered horses.

And this time it’s you that watches him, eyes glued to his muscled back, the nape of his neck, as he eventually is swarmed by the darkened, reaching horizon.

---

You fall into bed, feeling strange and wary, a little weary, perhaps a little hopeful, too. For what, you don’t know. You can feel the wind changing, coming with new spring. But there’s something else, something heavier; the pressure is building, as if there’s a storm brewing. The kind of spring storm that bring destruction and clamor and the kind of rain that threatens to sweep you away in their flood and ferocity.

Your bed creeks, the shadows are tall and reaching in your room. The moon spills in, but instead of painting you with wonder or lovely, pearl light, it only makes the shadows that much darker. The night brings the cold, makes you pull tight and inwards. You curl up beneath your quilt, try and ward off all that presses in.

Eventually, you sleep.

And you dream.

You dream in visions of phantom grey and oil slick black, syrupy red, and flesh pink. You step lightly in a graveyard, the earth freshly turned and dark. Stones jut out from the ground like jagged, crooked teeth. It swallows you whole. The fog is thick and evasive, surrounding you and gathering around you, a train to your skirts that murmur and brush against stones and dirt and the hollowed out ground.

A grave with your father’s name grows from the earth, forces you to stop, stutter backwards. Your teeth begin chattering, the clanking of bone against bone. You can feel the whispers of wind, something so near. Your heart plummets as you read his name, as you see his grave, which you now see is besides your mother’s.

The ground trembles.

Their graves crack, splinter like a dropped glass, bursting outwards in a wave of skittering, flaming stone.

Frantically, you drop to your knees, try to put them all back together, as if that will somehow help. As if that will fix anything. You curse and cry and there are tears-- there are tears that drop onto burning stone. It sizzles and smokes but you can’t put them back together. You are alone, and you can’t.

Your hands begin to burn, flesh pink and blister white. Mud sucks at your legs and your knees and then you are sinking, sinking, sinking--

Oil drowns you, forces its way down your mouth and your throat and clogs your lungs. Seeps into every part of you. It’s invasive, forceful in it’s push and pull of you, it sucks at you and you are forced downward, kicking and screaming. Forced to swallow and take and be filled.

You twist, frantic. Try to fight back, but you are caught in the thick of it. It devours your screams and cries and pain.

And from above, there is a cut of silver, a star in the inky sky. A hand; metal and unnatural plunges in for you. And he pulls you clear out of the muck, the earth’s blood and into his arms.

When you emerge, it is as if you’re cleansed by the light. Gone is the slick oil, gone is the choking and drowning and thrashing. Bucky holds you to him now, crushes you to his chest where you can hear the live, thundering beat of his heart.

“I’ve got you,” He murmurs, cradling your skull as if it’s precious, something to be protected. Your nose is pushed to his neck and you--

You cling to him, swallow down clean gulps of spring air and the juniper bright and metal sharp smell of him. Pine, there is pine and evergreen, too. Clean and fresh and dipping into musk. Your heart slows, lulls, with his voice in your ear; that voice you’d so desperately wanted to hear.

You feel as if you’ve heard it your whole life now, as if you can’t imagine going another day without hearing it. And he says your name, not Omega, just your name. And he breathes and is warm and alive beneath you.

When you look around now, the earth is fertile and bright and warm. Spring damp roses and sweet, honeycomb sunshine. The fauna is in full bloom, an overabundance of life that leaves you inhaling the fragrant air. It’s so thick, almost cloying.

And there is no breeze, you think.

And Bucky’s lips are at your neck.

And there is a stirring in your stomach but its--

It’s all wrong.

He tries to lay you down. And you don’t protest because there’s something so tempting about it all, so safe, or so instinctual. There’s an ache and a burn and you want to shed your skin, you want to let him in and never let him out, bury his body in the ground with you. Become the earth and fertilize the flowers and feed the foxes you love so much. You wanna lie with him until the crow calls, until you’re nothing but him and you and the gem stones deep in the ground.

But when his face lifts from your vulnerable neck, it is not him.

Rumlow stares down at you, his scarred face so close and imploring. He croons Omega and you shriek, you try to get away, but it’s like the oil all over again; you trapped and thrashing and stuck. Rabbit in a snare. Fox in a trap. You scream, scream for Bucky or Wanda or even Steve or your father. You scream until it tapers off and burns into something ragged, shredding your voice.

He is just heavy atop you, and his face is morphing and shifting, like he’s a new creature altogether. Blackened eyes that are too wide, too large and there is a gaping whole where his mouth should be--

You claw at him, scratch with nails, pull at pink flesh and cartilage and bone until he starts dripping blood and saliva, growling like a rabid dog. You twist his face away so sharply, so horribly, that there is a sickening crack and then the full of him collapses atop you.

You squirm and you are crying, choked sobs because it feels like you are burning, or aching. Lonesome and longing or horrified and fearful of everyone. You want to be held in equal measures that you want to run away and never see another face again. You are torn, split in two and unraveling.

When you scramble away, deeper into the fragrant wild grass. You realize there is wetness, slick and warm and--

There is blood. So much blood coating your legs and it seeps through your skirts, stemming from between your legs. It pools beneath you, waters the flowers and seeps into the earth as if it belongs there.

You howl like an animal, fingers squabbling in the dirt and the blood and your body as if you can put yourself back together again--

You wake with a hard, sucking gasp. Blinking hard in the darkness. Your hands pull at your nightgown, shift to feel your skin, still warm and dry and clean beneath your heavy quilt. Reassuring, gulping breaths bring back cool air into your lungs. I’m safe, you tell yourself, it was just a dream.

But the night is still dark and the bed still creaks and the wind still howls, almost the way you had when you’d found all that blood-- No.

But now you’re just awake, in a lonely room. And there is no comfort, no warmth or forgiveness in the hollowness of it all.

You rise in the morning, heavy bags beneath your eyes, and begin your day in hopes of a better one.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #a/b/o verse #alpha/beta/omega au #cowboy au #bucky barnes fanfiction #alpha bucky barnes #omega reader

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vintagevalentinex · 4 years

Text

Pie

Okay so I decided to put this up after a lot of thought. I wrote a quick little fic about my vampirate love, Benny. I was kind of inspired to do so after I read abaddonwithyall‘s Benny fic, Sweet, Like Honey, which is absolutely amazing. This is the first SPN fic I’ve ever written and I really, really hope I did Benny some justice. Also I hope I did his accent some justice.

Special shout out to bovaria and abaddonwithyall for being so encouraging and wonderful (like they usually are)!

Title: Pie Author: vintagevalentinex Words: ~2350 Pairing: (Benny x Reader) Warnings: Implied Smut

“GOD DAMN IT!”

You groaned with frustration, wiping the sweat off your brow. The oven’s heat was causing a thin sheen of perspiration to form on your skin. You had been trying to bake this damn pie for hours now. “Bake it from scratch, (Y/N),” you thought. “It’s so much better than getting one from the bakery. The boys will love it. Yeah, I’m an idiot.”

It was a typical day at the bunker without the Winchesters there. You had been staying with them for a while now, having met up with them during a raid of a vampire nest. You figured the least you could do was help them with some of the upkeep of the bunker while they were out on another hunt. Now here you were, covered in flour and egg, trying to make dough that just didn’t want to cooperate and decided to get everywhere. You sighed as you heard the loud groan of the heavy bunker door as it swing open, signaling the arrival of Dean and Sam.

“(Y/N)! Hey, (Y/N), are you around? I want you to meet a friend of mine!”

Dean’s voice echoed through the bunker as you brushed your hands on your pants, knowing that they weren’t going to get any cleaner at that point. You quietly made your way into the library, a sheepish smile on your face. “Oh…hey guys…”

Both Sam and Dean looked at one another, trying their very best not to laugh, but after a few seconds of taking in your disheveled appearance, bubbles of laughter came to the surface. You rolled your eyes, a faint blush staining your cheeks as you thrust your hands into your pockets. “I was just trying to make you a pie…you know…like a thank you for taking me in for a while.”

Dean bit his lip, still trying to stifle back his laughter. “Okay, okay, sweetheart, I have the perfect way for you to pay us back. My friend here—” Dean stepped aside, revealing a stocky man, solidly built, with the most beautiful blue eyes you had ever seen. They seemed to be twinkling with mischief, and something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. He had the perfect amount of scruff highlighting his sculpted high cheekbones, and a smirk on his lips. He stepped forward, nodding his head in your direction. Dean continued, “—my friend Benny here, is going to be staying at the bunker for a couple of days, needs somewhere to lie low. Sammy and I have to head back out, we caught wind of a rugaru. You don’t mind keeping him company for a while, do you?”

You moved forward, extending your hand, but quickly pulling it away realizing that you was still a mess. “Sorry, I would shake your hand, but I’m covered in flour. I’m (Y/N).” The smirk on Benny’s face only grew larger as he took your hand into his anyway, not at all minding the flour coating most of your visible skin.

“Not to worry, cher, a little flour ain’t gon’ bother me.”

You recoiled, withdrawing your hand from his, the icy touch of his flesh sending chills down your spine. Your head snapped towards Dean, eyes searching for some kind of answer. “Dean…”

“Kiddo, it’s fine. He’s not gonna hurt ya. Trust me.”

You looked back again warily at Benny, chewing on your lip, his eyes gazing right back at you. The air grew thicker as he continued to stare, unwavering, as a small smile grew on his lips once more. He drawled, “Not ‘gon hurt ya, petit. Wouldn’t hurt such a pretty ‘lil thing like you, darlin’.”

The lump that had formed in your throat seemed to slowly go down as you nodded, knowing that Sam and Dean would never put you in harm’s way. “Alright then. I’m going to go clean up the mess I made in the kitchen. Next time, I’ll make something edible, I promise,” you chuckled softly, before giving Sam and Dean a quick peck on the cheek. You nodded at Benny from a distance before heading off in the direction of the kitchen.

It had been like that for the past couple of days. Benny would linger around while you were trying to get the household (bunker-hold?) chores done. While you were dusting, you’d find him propped up, watching your every move as you worked. When you were doing all of the laundry, you jumped as you heard whistling out of nowhere, turning around to find him leaning against the door frame. The final straw was when you were putting some of the scattered books in the library away when you turned around and he was mere millimeters away from you. You huffed, as he let you push his sturdy frame away from you, crossing your arms over your chest. “What is your problem? Are you just going to follow me around wherever I go?”

All Benny did was smile as he stared at you, taking in your form. You could feel his eyes raking over your body as you rolled your eyes. “Seriously? Say something.”

Benny’s smile formed into a soft chuckle, holding his hands up defensively, palms facing you. “I’m sorry, darlin’. I must ‘a left my manners back in Purgatory. I haven’t been around a pretty ‘lil lady like you in a very long time. At least one that wasn’t tryin’ ta kill me.”

You let out a snicker. “Yet. I haven’t tried to kill you yet, Benny.” Wait. Your eyes snapped up back to his, confused. “Purgatory? What do you mean, Purgatory? You were in Purgatory?!?”

His face became stoic, as if all the memories from his time in Purgatory came rushing back. You chewed on your lip, dropping a book you didn’t even realize you had been holding in your hand the entire time. The loud, dull thud of the book seemed to break whatever trance Benny was in, the corners of his lips turning up into a smile as his eyes found yours again. His voice was a little raspy, seeming as though he was trying to fight down whatever was making him upset. “Tell ya what, cher—“ He bent down to pick up the book that you had dropped, reaching past you to put in into the shelf, his body so very close to yours as he continued to speak, not leaving your personal space. “—how’s about I whip up somethin’ for ya t’eat? I’m pretty sure I’m a least a ‘lil bit better of a cook than you. Think of it as me tryin’ to get on your good side.”

You rolled your eyes trying to suppress the smile threatening its way onto your lips. “He seems nice enough,” you thought to yourself. “If Dean thinks he’s good people, I guess I can at least not be a big bitch. But I swear if he even mentions anything about wanting to suck my blood I will chop his head off and put it on a pike in front of bunker door for the boys to come home to.” You finally let yourself smile, those slightly morbid thoughts tucked away in your mind, your innocent features never giving you away. It had always given you an enormous advantage as a hunter. “I…um…yeah Benny. That sounds really nice, actually.”

“Actually? Oh petit you’re breaking my heart! I’ll win ya over yet (Y/N), just’ you wait.”

You flushed a little as he spoke your name, the determined look in his eyes doing something to your insides. “Damn, I’m definitely in trouble,” you though to yourself. He smiled at you again, “Ever have gumbo?”

You leaned on a counter in the kitchen as you watched Benny move around the space, gliding back and forth, cooking as though he’s been doing it for a hundred years. Well, maybe he has. You weren’t sure. He hummed while he was cooking, stirring a large pot, the delicious aroma finding its way all the way over to you, unbeknownst to you, you let out a soft moan as you took in the delicious smell of onions, peppers, tomatoes, and spices that you couldn’t decipher.

“That good, huh darlin’? Wouldn’t mind hearing tha’ noise again.” He chuckled as he turned to look at you. You gasped as you realized what you did, hurriedly muttering something about waiting for him at the table as he finished, the sound of his soft, knowing laughing filling your ears as you left the kitchen.

You stared at him almost incredulously as you nearly inhaled the gumbo he made, your eyes closing in utter delight with every single bite, savoring every single drop. Benny smiled, genuinely smiled at you as you ate, scooting his chair a little closer to you as he began to talk, telling you about him, his long history, and how he met Dean as you nursed your third beer. You had to admit to yourself that Benny was definitely something nice to look at, and his voice. You had nearly gone weak in the knees when he said your name. You liked the way his eyes crinkled as he smiled at you, his big blue eyes boring into yours. He made you feel, at least in that moment like you were the only woman on Earth, and somewhere deep down inside, you knew that you liked the way that felt. You helped him clean up the dishes, even giggling a little when he got soap suds in his beard, smiling mirthfully back at you. You finally nudged him out of the kitchen, promising that you were going to make a pie correctly this time, and that he had to wait at the table for you to finish. He laughed softly, his lips slowly forming into a smirk as you made him leave. “Jus’ try not ta’ burn down tha place, cher.”

After cleaning up the second flour mess, you washed your hands once more to try one last attempt on dough for a pie crust. You sighed in frustration, ready to completely give it up and pack it in. You had wanted so badly to make something nice for the boys because they had been so good to you. “Maybe they won’t notice if I pick up a pie from the bakery. Jess always makes the best cherry pies,” you thought.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t notice that someone had entered the kitchen. Just as you turned around, you found yourself caged in against the counter by Benny’s thick, strong arms. “Well hello there, petit.”

You looked up at him, your eyes wild, realizing how little space there was between your bodies. Your heart was beating as though it was going to punch through your chest. There was no denying that you were definitely attracted to this man…vampire…vamp-man? That wasn’t important at this time. You swallowed hard, your eyes fluttering up to meet his gaze again. “Is…is there anything I can help you with, B-Benny?”

“Mmm, darlin’ I do so love the way my name sounds in your mouth,” his voice dark and velvety, feeling the vibrations resonate through your bones as he spoke. “Seems to me like you’re the one who needs the help, petit.”

You quickly turned around, your back facing Benny as you tried to knead the mess of dough that was still lying on the counter. You could hear Benny rolling up his sleeves, feel him press closer to you, his head now leaning into the crook of your neck, his breath making goosebumps rise on your skin as you shut your eyes, trying to regain your composure. Benny hummed into your ear, and you nearly trembled at how close his lips were to your flesh. “Hmm…whata ya tryin’ to make here, darlin’?”

You sputtered, “P-pie.”

Benny continued to drawl in your ear, his voice like thick, warm caramel, “Mmmm pie, huh? I love a good, sweet pie. Nice and warm in my mouth. I could eat pie for hours…”

You whimpered, dropping the pie pan that you were holding, the metal pan making a loud clang onto the counter. You swallowed hard again, trying to not let him get to you as you tried to knead the dough. In her peripheral vision, you could see his arms coming up on the counter, his hands creeping closer to yours until he covered your smaller ones. Benny’s voice, barely above a whisper, his lips just touching the outer shell of your ear. “Let me help you with that, darlin’.”

His hands worked with yours to knead the dough, making it into the perfect consistency for the crust of the pie. Benny’s hips sat snugly against your own, you could feel him pressing into you as his lips grazed your neck, behind your ear, his mouth ever so lightly nipping at your earlobe. You could barely move, letting him finish the pie crust, finally able to breathe as he took a step back from you to take the crust to put it in the refrigerator. You pressed your back against the counter, trying to look everywhere but at him as he made his way back over to you. Benny took one of your hands into both of his, pressing his lips to the back of it, his eyes instantly locking on yours. He smiled against your skin, “…Now about that pie…”

You furrowed your brow in confusion. Didn’t he just put the crust in the fridge? “…but Benny…?”

He grinned wolfishly at you, tugging on your wrist so you were pressed against his chest. He bent down to speak to you, his voice rumbling in your chest, “Oh darlin’, if there’s one thing I do better than makin’ pie, it’s eatin’ pie. And I’m hankerin’ for some hot, sweet pie right about now. Your pie.” You continued to look at him, confused, as he started to drag you along with him, finally understanding what he meant as you audibly whimpered again. Benny chuckled as you exited the kitchen.

It was going to be an interesting couple of days.

#spn #benny lafitte #benny lafitte x reader #benny lafitte/reader #repost #new blog #my vampirate

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