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sidespart · 3 years

Note

For the fic title thing: Make Up Your Mind/Catch Me I’m Falling

Make Up Your Mind (this seriously got away from me and became basically a whole string of conscious fic whoops)

Logince, Bakery/coffeeshop AU Mutual Pining/ Not-Actually-Unrequited love, + loceit friendship

So Janus owns a Bakery (struggling to think of a snake/lie based bread pun for the name but ehh). He is the head only baker and sends most of his time in the basement kitchen blasting the phantom of the opera soundtrack and kneading dough.

Logan is his childhood friend. Janus hired him as cashier after Logan dropped out of collage but then he never left and is now basically manager/ accountant/ hbic of this whole operation.

So one night as Janus is leaving he’s casually like: ‘oh by the way, a couple are coming by tomorrow for a wedding cake consultation’

And Logan blocks the door and is like: ‘Janus. We don’t do wedding cakes. We don’t even do cake. You only make weird artisanal bread. it took me 6 months and 8 powerpoint presentations to convince you to sell banana loaf’

Jan, his eye enormous: ‘but Logan, you should have heard this guy on the phone. They only want to use LGBTQ businesses for their wedding, they want to support the community that’s supported them for so long. He spoke so passionately and eloquently about why it just had to be us I couldn't say no’

Logan, his eyes not enormous: did you tell this man we make wedding cakes just to make the phone conversation end?

Janus: I was going to miss the murder, she wrote marathon, Logan

So Jan manages to escape, and Logan rolls his eyes but like. This is nowhere near the worst ‘cleaning up after Janus lied to get out of a situation and made everything more complicated for no goddamm reason’ incident that he has had to deal with during the course of their friendship so, whatever: he can tell the couple there was a miscommunication when they show up in the morning.

Next day, the guys arrive. Virgil, who barley introduces himself and then stays hunched in his hoodie not speaking for the whole meeting, and Roman.

Roman does not have a problem speaking. Roman has lots of ideas.

Roman has a binder.

Somehow in the course of this conversation Logan goes from ‘we don’t make wedding cakes’ to ‘I’LL SHOW YOU, WE’LL MAKE THE BEST GODDAMM WEDDING CAKE THIS TOWN HAS EVER SEEN’

Maybe it was the passion of Romans argument. Maybe it was the slightly disdainful look on his face when he looked round the shop. Maybe it was the ridiculous amount of money he was prepared to pay (see: Janus insists on only making specific, weird bread as to why the shop’s always on the brink of collapse). Maybe it was the power of the binder (Logan is like 80% sure Roman hit him with the binder at one point). Maybe its just Logan hasn't had a full blown passionate argument like that since high school debate club and the rush of adrenaline made him dumb.

Whatever the reason - they’re now fully committed to making this 6 tier, purple and blue, Disney inspired, multiflavoured wedding cake

(Janus, who skipped out on the meeting because he is Like That: But Logan....we don’t make wedding cakes...this was really irresponsible of you...

Logan: I know where you sleep. I could kill you at any time)

Which would be doable (the weddings a while off, and Logan is ready to RESEARCH) except Roman keeps. Coming. Back.

With new ideas. And tweaks. And suggestions. All of them seemingly designed to make the cake less structurally sound.

Basically every time he comes in they end up having a blazing row, first about Romans inability to make up his mind about the cake and then about...literally everything. One time they spent 25 minuets arguing about whether or not Shakespeare wrote all of his plays, which somehow turns into ‘who was the best host of blues clues?’ which then turned into ‘how would nationalised healthcare best be implemented?’ (the loudest arguments were during the blues clues section).Logan had even fewer customers then normal that day.

(Logan: I hate that guy so much! He shows up at 2pm every day and now my blood pressure has started going up at 1.55pm in anticipation of the fight! He’s causing me actual medical distress because he’s so stupid!

Janus:...you’ve memorised some guys schedule and your heart starts racing whenever you see him?

Logan: yes! because he is my enemy!

Janus:...

Janus: mmKay.)

ANYway, one day Roman turns up and is like: Can’t fight today. Need caffeine. Must Study. and sequesters himself on one of their two rinky dink tables and starts pulling enormous textbooks out of his bag. Turns out Roman is in law school, he’s back home for the whole summer to help with wedding prep and has been neglecting his summer reading. He wants to be an environmental lawyer and, ideally, singly handily prosecute every oil company and give a speech at the UN whilst wearing an immaculately fitted Italian suit.

Logan has a panicked moment of OH NO HE’S SMART (he doesn't need an oh no he’s hot moment because Roman’s been hot the whole time). Very carefully he does not think about how upset hearing Roman mention the wedding again made him feel, and then shares a bit about his own anxiety during college which led to him dropping out.

Roman says degree or no degree its obvious Logan is one of the smartest, most capable people Romans ever met.

Cue: blushing, stammering, Logan standing up to quickly and knocking half a pot of coffee over etc etc all that good fluff.

And after that their conversations are less confrontational (although they still debate like. everything.) and more friendly.

They have one (1) more conversation about the wedding wherein Roman apologises for being so stressed and snappy over all the preparation stuff but he just wants everything to be perfect for Virgil. (Logan, awkwardly: you must love him a lot. Roman, himbo-ly: Yeah!) aaand then Logan changes the subject to the best rhyming structure because Romans big sappy grin is making his heart do awful twisty things-

And eventually, Roman asks Logan to go out with him outside the bakery.

Logan: hahaha this is friendship, we are great friends, we are going out as friends. I am not going on a date with a man with a fiancé because that would be the actions of a crazy person.

So they go on their date. It’s amazing. Roman leans in for a kiss at the end and Logan is delighted!

And then devastated.

He pushes Roman away, yells some creative insult (malodorous centurion?) and flees. Spends the next week basically hiding in the kitchen area, refusing to see any customers and working on the wedding cake.

(which is looking perfect by the way)

So after a week of Logan moping round the kitchen Janus finally blocks the door to stop him leaving and demand he tells him what the hell is wrong. And after a few minuets of filibustering Logan ends up telling him everything.

“In any case, the very fact that he is the kind of man who would cheat on his fiancé means he’s not the kind of man I thought he was. Therefore any alleged feelings I may have developed towards him would now be null and void” says Logan, looking like the worlds sadist accountant

Janus: So...wait. You’re saying wedding cake guy and hot lawyer guy are the same person?

(Logan: you need to come out of the basement more often Janus: YOU need to tell me what’s going on in your life more often. (they have had this conversation many times in the past))

So Janus sincerely tells Logan he’s sorry...and that he’s even more sorry that he needs him to help him deliver the cake to the venue tomorrow.

(this thing is way to big for one person to carry and there’s no way Jan would trust any of their occasional teenage cover staff to do this and ‘we’ll go round the back and you wont have to see anyone anyway comon Lo’ you basically built this monstrosity you should see it home)

So, reluctantly, Logan goes. And they go round the back as promised, and get this enormous cake settled, and then get told to wait there one sec cus one of the grooms is going to come sign for it and before Logan can throw himself out of the widow (get OFF me Janus we’re on the ground floor it’s FINE) from behind them they hear squeeing.

There’s a curly haired dude in a pastel blue linen suit who Logan has never seen before in his life looking at the cake and cooing over ‘all the little details! its perfect! oh Virgil is going to love this! You know he was so embarrassed about asking for a Disney themed cake he had to ask Roman to go with him to -”

“Who ARE you?”

The man blinked at Logan, who realised dimly that he still had one foot up on the windowsill and slowly returned it to the floor.

“I’m Patton” said Patton.

“And I’m Janus” said Janus, removing his arms from where they’d still been clamped around Logan’s waist and stepping smoothly towards Patton, clipboard held aloft “A pleasure to meet you, if you could just sign here...”

“BUT-” Patton paused, hand still raised to accept the clipboard, and looked over again at Logan who found himself mumbling: “but - but the groom is supposed to sign for it?”

And Patton just smiled at him looking a bit bemused and goes ‘I am the groom? And who are you kiddo?”

Logan says he’s Logan. Patton suddenly looks a whole lot less friendly.

“Oh.” says Patton. “You.”

And since Logan’s mind is currently refusing to take in the information in front of him Janus is the one who ends up stepping in between them and going “so just for 100% transparency - you are Patton.

“yes?”

“and today you are marrying the love of your life: Virgil?”

“Yes!”

“And are either of you, at any point today, also planning on marrying one Roman Sanders, caffeine addict and terrible communicator?”

And Paton burst out laughing and says “ROMAN? Virgil’s big brother Roman? He’s my best man but I don’t think we’re planning to take it any further...”. And because Patton is apparently much quicker on the emotional uptake than Logan he gives him a vey soft, if slightly exasperated, look and says:

“Roman - who again, is my future brother-in-law- is helping set up in the main hall.”

And Logan likes to think he said thank you before he took off fucking RUNNING through the building but he can’t be sure.

So he gets to the hall, where a load of people are setting out chairs, putting up flowers etc, and skids to a stop at one end of the aisle. Shouts: “ROMAN.” (Roman and Virgil, who were standing at the other end arguing over a flower arrangements, both look up) “YOU’RE NOT MARRYING YOUR BROTHER.”

“um.” Says Roman “No?”

Explanations are given. Virgil, who is a lot more talkative now that he’s not on 7th wedding appointment of the day burn out, is ready to physically fight Logan for breaking his brothers heart. And then once he understands the full story is ready to kill both of them for being such dumbasses.

Roman: But I s2g I told the guy on the phone that it was the groom and best man coming??? Logan: Yeah he might have lied and said you were a couple for a joke, or he may have just straight up not listened to you. Either way, he is just Like That.

Logan: WHY DID YOU NEVER MENTION VIRGIL WAS YOUR BORTHER?? Roman: I WAS TRYING TO GET TO KNOW YOU AND ALSO SEDUCE YOU WHY WOULD I WASTE TIME TALKING ABOUT MY LITTLE BROTHER??? Virgil: Yeah...he does like talking about himself, sorry he’s just Like That.

Anyway it all ends fluffily, Patton and Virgil get married. Roman cries. Logan and Jan hang around for the wedding. Roman and Logan hold hands throughout the speeches and dance during the reception. Roman has to go back to law school soon but they agree to call each other every day at 2pm to catch up and argue.

Janus gets off with the moustachioed DJ.

And Roman and Logan get another chance at their first kiss.

#sanders sides fic #logince #roman sanders #logan sanders #Loceit #Platonic Loceit #janus sanders #SANDERs sides #YEAH THIS ONE ALSO GO AWAY FROM ME #i might write some of these scenes up properly or draw them out #this was fun #fake fic meme #sidespart writes #Anonymous

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kinkpost1 · 3 years

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My roommate had pretty much started to collapse from his anxiety attacks. It was a strange living situation, in that it was him, myself, and a dating couple, all in a small flat in one of our northern districts, leading separate and so-called professional lives. He would always hide out in his room. In the kitchen, early in the morning, I might find him; or passing through the living room late evening, but in general we all kept to ourselves. From the first, preliminary conversation I knew that he was a research scientist; from my observations I knew that he worked most of the day and lacked extravagance in habits. From what I'd started to observe over the course of months, I'd noticed that he'd started to lose a lot of weight. A check of his shelves in the fridge and cupboards confirmed that he wasn't often eating; here, at least, I didn't know if he went out to eat with colleagues but I assumed not. I felt for him. He struck me as a sad man. The last time I had seen him, coming out of the shower and across the hallway, he had smiled and our eyes met for a brief instant, but he seemed far away, distracted to the point of pathological; I wanted to put a blanket around him and stroke his hair until he fell asleep, to share with him a little comfort and human companionship. I thought about his likely empty stomach, and wanted to cook him a warm meal and stroke that too, until his anxiety calmed down; but none of this I could do. I could only be a friend, if ever he needed me. It wasn't long until I was made to make that choice. I came into the living room around the same time that he did and noticed he seemed unwell. He was trembling and, as he wiped his nose into his sleeve, looked to be crying, or at least that his eyes were watering. "Are you okay?" I asked him. He looked up, as though he couldn't quite see me, and, shaking, said "I'm fine, I'm just - I'm having an anxiety attack, but I think I'll be okay." I went over and touched his arm. "Come, sit down," I said gently, and putting an arm around him I led him to the sofa. He followed meekly, I had to actually sit him down because he was so afraid it seemed his vision had gone out. At first I sat opposite him and, taking his hand, with my other I began to stroke his cheek, gently wiping the tears and telling him he was safe, he was still trembling and I knew his heart must be racing so I sat against the arm of the chair and said "lay against me, we'll cuddle until you're better," and I embraced him, feeling his clammy warmth, stroking his chest until his heart seemed to slow, and tracing his hands with mine. His breathing was ragged but quiet, and he had needed to be held, we snuggled into each other as though it were natural. His tummy was grumbling and so I gave him belly rubs, too, and he said he'd been taking medication which upset him, to which I continued the belly rubs and as he relaxed, his tummy seemed to make gassy or hunger noises. "You feel hungry," I said. "I'll make you something, we can eat together." He seemed sad at this. "I'm so nervous these days I'll either throw it up or not eat it." "Don't worry, you don't have to eat much, but a little comfort food might be good, you're so thin and your stomach seems as empty as upset." He agreed and I set to work. As the pots were on the stove I sat beside him and held him and he snuggled, stiffly, into me. He was afraid, but I didn't know of what, only that I would protect him.

#belly kink #belly rubs #tummy kink #tummy ache #eructophilia #hurt comfort #angst #prompt #stomach ache

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fakeloveaskblog · 2 years

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Hi, me again. Congratulations on getting on the waiting list. I’m cis and I don’t know much about trans healthcare or hormones but I wish you all the best and hope you don’t have to wait to long. I feel your pain with the possible two year wait. I had to wait two years for my autism diagnosis and just recently reached the end of a two and a half year waiting list to have me evaluated for anti anxiety medication. I hope you aren’t in to much pain and that you feel better soon. Remember to drink water and take care of yourself because you deserve it.

Glow Eyes

(Well would you look at that I actually remembered to sign off.)

Thanks!! Hun i'm so sorry you've had to wait that long for both of your treatments. Having to go 2 and a half years without getting any necesary help for your anxiety must have been horrible. i've had a HUGE amount of luck when it comes to my healthcare journey. I mean it's taken me like 2 months? to get meds and a therapist. i dont think i said it yesterday but i've also been written up on the waiting list for autism testing and the doctor put me so it will happen in at most 6 months. And like obviously i'm glad for all this but its also so fucking unfair yknow. Like just because it got so drastic for me i ended up at the hospital it shouldnt mean i should get help YEARS in advance of others. at most i should get help maybe like a month in advance?? At most!! It just feeds into the belief that a person has to have it "bad enough" to deserve adequate help. it's such bullshit through and through.

sorry this turned into a mini rant. ive been talking a lot with my friends lately about these kinds of healthcare issues so yeah.

i hope you get the anxiety meds soon and that you feel nothing but validation for your strugles from your doctors <3 i dont know the differences between the side effects in anti depresants and anti anxiety but please remember that they will most likely only last for a few days. remember to drink lots of water (keep a bottle by your bed if you have to) and also remember that if the meds dont help at first you can just tell your doctors and they Will help you. theyve been through meds not working before. mine didnt work for me so my doctor immediately helped me up my dose and im already feeling a lot less dissociated and have less intrusive thoughts than usual. you will find what works for you and you will get better <3

good job on remembering to sign off btw:D

Thank you!!! youre awesome as well!! here you'll get a picture of the oyakodon i made today as thanks C: (i had to sit down the entire time i was making it and could only hold the pots for like 15 secods before having to put them down but i managed !) please imagine that i am personally giving you a hot bowl of rice, sauce and yummy chicken and also probably a cozy blanket

#tho just saying ive waited 2 months for meds and help is kinda wrong since ive waited years in the hope that my parents would do something #lmao #glow eyes #🐌🕸

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hansolmates · 4 years

Text

jjk; angel’s trumpet [04]

summary; one second, your life is flashing before your eyes and the next, you’re transported into a world exactly like your own. but the jungkook you meet in this world isn’t a renowned singer or your former almost-lover, in fact he has no clue who you are and why you know him so well. as you work to find your way home lost and confused, you conclude that you’re either dead or in the middle of the most wicked drug trip of your life. pairing; idol!jk x reader (f), alternatively film producer!jk x reader genre/warnings; fluff, angst, supernatural, idol!au, non-idol!au, alternate universes, themes of fate, language, alcohol consumption, mentions of smut in future chapters w.c; 5k a/n; lot of angst in this one!! if your heart aches i urge u to do what i do and hug some stuffies (my current fav stuffie is my bt21baby cooky) i hope u enjoy more of w1!jk, ty for all the love pls share and like if you enjoy!

[03] [04] [05] -> masterpost

W1.

Jungkook is strongly advised not to visit you.

Jungkook has been strongly advised over the past two weeks not to visit you, despite the fact that visitors have been allowed since two days ago considering the fact that you are confirmed comatose.

A coma. You’re in a coma. It’s weird how much the notion echoes in Jungkook’s thoughts, constantly nudging the back of his mind like a petulant child wanting an out. He’s never met anyone who’s been in a coma before, the condition only reserved for late night melodramas and medical movies.

And in all of those shows, the person bedridden until further notice always looks like a wreck. He feels like ripping his heart out at the thought of you with tubes and liquids going in and out of your body, face ashen and devoid of any thought other than pain. He needed to see you, to support you even if you didn’t know.

After days of persistence and Namjoon’s inability to say no to Jungkook, Namjoon agreed to let Jungkook swing by the hospital after his solo recordings. He couldn’t get there fast enough, knowing Namjoon is already there and probably taking care of you.

He takes slow steps to your room, as if trudging through a sea of molasses. Careful to not let his combat boots strike the linoleum, he catches the tail end of a conversation. Your room is large enough for two patients, but so far you’re the only one checked in. There are three other people in your room, concealed by a thin curtain revealing them as shadows. Jungkook lingers behind, staring intently at the shadow of your figure laying in bed.

“How inhiberated was your friend the night of the incident?” Jungkook’s presuming it’s your nurse, going over protocol.

The second voice is Sehlyung, the bubbly coordinator who immediately befriended you the week you got hired. Her voice is no longer chipper, but strained and weak, as if she’s been crying for days.

“I don’t know exactly how much,” she sniffs, “but it was a lot. She had a rough day, I—I just wanted to help her forget a little,” her soft cries reverberate throughout the white-walled room. “I should’ve, I should’ve helped her upstairs. I knew how messed up she was and I left her alone!”

Jungkook’s fists clench beneath his hoodie, familiar moisture creeping into his eyes.

Sehlyung’s words felt like a jab to his form, already aching at the wounds in his own heart. It isn’t the answer the nurse wants, but it seems like the poor woman has been holding in a lot of pent up stress. Namjoon’s trying to placate her, and Jungkook can see the way he’s patting your friend’s shoulder in a gesture of comfort. “No one’s blaming you, so please don’t blame yourself,” Namjoon’s words are like a balm to the proverbial wound, “Nurse, is it possible to project how long it’ll take until she wakes up?”

“Hard to say,” your nurse replies, and has the decency to sound sad, “it could be weeks, or even months. Judging by her high amount of brain activity however, she’s predicted to awake with very minimal brain damage.”

Brain damage?

“Eventually her insurance will run out however, the longer we need to sustain her will depend on how much her cosigner—”

“Money will not be an issue,” Namjoon cuts in smoothly, almost sounding insulted that the nurse would even bring up such a thing. “We can’t put a price on our precious friend’s life.”

As much as Namjoon’s words alleviated Jungkook’s initial anxieties, the question still stands. Will you come out of this the same person you left? How long will that take, weeks, months, years? He’s extensively Googled before this, reading way too many WebMD articles that he probably shouldn’t have, effectively skewing his perception on the matter.

He fiddles with his hands in the kangaroo pocket of his sweater, clammy from the heat. You’re suffering, and just like Sehlyung, he’s trying very hard not to blame himself.

•━━━━━━»•»💮💮💮«•«━━•••

W2.

Angel’s Trumpet Scientific Name: Brugmansia Order and Family: Polimonailes and Solanaceae Summary: A higher order of nightshade, the Angel’s Trumpet is a show-stopping pendulous flower that hangs like bells. In myth, they were prized as chimes holding magical properties. In modern use, Angel's Trumpets have occasionally been used to create recreational drugs, but the risk of overdose is so high that these uses often have deadly consequences.

So you’re either dead or in the middle of the most wicked drug trip of your life.

You push away from your MacBook, rolling over to your bed to mull. It’s near two in the morning, and you’ve channeled both your love for Buzzfeed Unsolved and your poster making skills in order to construct The Timeline.

Using your somewhat solid memory from the past two weeks and Hoseok’s own timeline from his daycare shift, you spent the entire night plotting as to why you’re in W2 and how you can leave.

Your plan of action is minimal, definitively so because there are no leads other than Sehlyung’s wine dealer, and Jungkook.

Something must’ve been in the angel’s wine, something dangerous. You remember the sky flickering that night, wondering if you were hallucinating or very drunk. Scientifically speaking however, if you really are under the influence of this flower, the hallucinogens should’ve left your body by now.

Unless it’s magic that brought you to this world. As absurd as it is, the notion of magic gets easier and easier to cite as the days go on.

And if it is some form of magic, something tells you that Jungkook has something to do with it. But why?

One: Jungkook’s birth flower, you muse. You think back to how vivid the ink appeared on Jungkook’s skin, how precious the design meant to him. It made you think back to your Jungkook, who couldn’t stop fidgeting as he was so excited to get some serious ink done when visiting a friend in Jeju island. How bright his face glowed after it healed and how proud he was to show it off.

Two: The last thing Jungkook said to you. How coincidental must it be for him to specifically cite your relationship could work in “another world”?

You’re definitely overheating your brain at this point, and you trudge yourself out of bed to make something to eat. If you were going to spiral, you were going to spiral with a full stomach.

The pot as the water starts to boil, crackling and bubbling angrily because you are impatient and cranked up the heat to high. An open ramen block sits on the counter, ready to be softened. Suddenly, the door unclicks and you point your fork at the door. Panic fills you, wondering who could be visiting at this hour.

“Home sweet home!” Taehyung cries, swinging the door open so hard that it reverbs and hits him in the forehead. However he is unfettered, flashing you a toothy smile as he dumps his luggage at his feet. “Care to open another ramen packet for me, roomie?”

You lower your fork, remembering that Taehyung’s due to come back sometime this week. “Welcome back,” you exhale, forcing a smile as you watch Taehyung arrange his mess in a corner, “did you have a good trip?”

“Yeah, Busan’s nice,” he replies easily, dumping his body on the couch. He looks the same, shaggy brown-black hair and mischievous chocolate eyes. He still has an affinity for earth tones and long coats that make his shoulders look good. Despite the fact that you always expect that their counterparts will look alike, it baffles you how easy it is to forget you’re not in your world. “What about you? Why’re up so late?”

“My thesis was bugging me,” you lie easily, “I’m gonna work on it in the library tomorrow.”

“Ah, is that why you’ve been ignoring Jimin’s texts?”

You stop swirling the noodles in your pot, looking up from your spot at the counter. “He told you?”

Truth be told, you haven’t been exactly comfortable conversing with Jimin. You feel a little bad if your alternate self had a thing for the young man, but you know in your heart you definitely did not hold any romantic or sexual attraction towards him.

“Duh. You’ve hurt his heart.”

You scoff, dividing the pale yellow noodles and soup between two bowls. “Jimin’s a big baby, that’s why.”

“C’mon, you love that big baby,” Taehyung jests, “have lunch with us tomorrow during his break,” his eyes are glued to the bowls in your hands, as you carefully walk over to place them on the coffee table. Like an eager puppy, he scrambles off the couch and onto the floor, joining you in your meal.

You bite back a sigh, stuffing your face with hot noodles to give yourself some time. It still grossed you out that you supposedly hooked up with Jimin on the regular, but at the possibility that you were potentially messing up your alternate universes’ life still held you back for telling Jimin to kindly stop sending dick pics.

“If you pick me up from the library tomorrow I’ll come,” you concede, “just don’t make it weird, okay? I’ve had a hard week.”

“Done,” and that became that.

Taehyung and you cite the silence as being exhausted from today’s events, and you two quickly scarfed down your meal and headed off to bed. Another day gone, and another day longer it takes for you to return to your world.

•━━━━━━»•»💮💮💮«•«━━•••

“Your life’s totally an anime movie,”

As much as you love Hoseok’s support, the fact that he’s so excited is a little unnerving.

“You’re like an alien! Or Phil of the Future who’s trying to get back to his timeline!”

“Hoseok…”

“Right, right. Sorry. But think about it,” he jabs a finger in your notebook, citing the pastel pink sticky note where it’s crossed out. “If you fall in love with W2 Jungkook like W1 Jungkook implied, it’ll fulfill your prophecy and you can go back home! And then when you go back home, W1 Jungkook will realize he was being a pussy and then grovel at your knees for forgiveness and—”

“Please stop,” your head is throbbing. The fact that you’re talking about two Jungkooks is terrifying, because it was hard enough for you to handle one Jungkook on their own. “Even so, what’s to say that Jungkook and I really aren’t meant to be? It’s not like W1 Jungkook was wrong. He has a busy life and I know a romantic relationship could add extra stress on him.”

A little part of you felt good to tell another person about your struggles between Jungkook and yours’ unnamed relationship. Of course, you had to catch yourself sometimes when you delve a little too much. Hoseok after all, doesn’t know either Jungkook. You also forget yourself, often muttering a variant of “shut up Hobi you absolute Fruit Loop” when Hoseok gets too giddy. The Hoesok next to you is still just as new of a friend, not this co-worker you’ve spent the better half of two years with.

But back to his theory, while there was no symbolic chime that signaled the start, it grew into a slow, easy love, at least for you. As your and Jungkook’s feelings grew, the more your panic bubbled to the surface. Was it a risk you were both willing to take? Evidently not, from the way Jungkook had slammed the door in your face.

Another reason why you’re hesitant to test the falling in love theory—it’s too easy to fall in love with Jungkook all over again. It scares you. Without his music career in the way, what’s stopping you?

Hoseok squeezes your hand at the way you stare so intently into your timeline, sending you a tender smile, “Don’t think so hard. Even so, a little date won’t hurt, right?” he whispers, picking up his things, “text me if anything happens. My kids are coming soon.”

You give him a halfhearted wave, leaving him to his shift at the daycare. You were so engrossed with the influx of information yesterday that you failed to ask Jungkook for his phone number. This meant that you had to do some intense social media stalking in order to find him. If he’s anything like W1 Jungkook, you’re going to have a hard time finding any updates from him.

“Excuse me? Professor?”

Tilting your head from your notepad, you notice an undergrad had replaced the seat that Hoseok previously occupied. She’s a pretty thing, with long raven black hair and almond shaped eyes. You suddenly feel very ratty and underdressed as a professor, the leggings and oversized sweater with a questionable stain really giving off baked-potato vibes.

“Do… yeon?” you say, remembering her from an email thread you sent a while ago.

She beams, “Yeah! I’m so glad I found you. I know Professor Kim said he’d be absorbing your classes since you’re on leave, but I really need help with my final draft. Professor Kim tried to help me and…”

“Let me guess,” you smirk, “his thoughts were way too convoluted and you need me to get straight to the point.”

Doyeon snaps her fingers, “Exactly!”

While apprehensive with medical knowledge, you can still find confidence in your essay grading skills. You spend the next half hour looking over Doyeon’s paper, pointing out how things she could improve on or articles she could cite. Soon enough, Doyeon texted two other members for her study group, saying that it’s a once-in-a-semester-offer to get some time with you.

And you’re baffled at how easy it is to fall into this professor role. It makes you believe that if you really wanted to, being a professor would also be a perfect job for you. The students are buzzing around your table, excitedly whispering how happy they are to work with you after so long, and that they miss the way you teach your lectures. For two blissful hours, you forget your circumstance and keep your focus entirely on your students.

A loud, obnoxious cough breaks you and your students out of their work bubble. Taehyung is tapping his Valentino loafers impatiently, holding a very large back of what seemed to be you and Jimin’s lunch.

“Sorry kiddos,” Taehyung sing songs, already stuffing your work stuff in your bag, “she promised to go out and have lunch with mature adults.”

“We’re literally like, a couple years younger than you,” Chan scrunches his face, sending you a pleading look.

“Sorry Chan, I did say I was going to have lunch,” you concede, “but please email me if you have any more questions. Otherwise, you’re right on track!”

You wave at the thankful students happily, and Taehyung literally has to drag you out by the arm and shove him into his Uber before you could relent.

“Damn girl,” Taehyung chuckles, relieved to finally get you out of the library, “you didn’t hear me the first three times I was calling you. Chan looked like he was about to rip my head off!”

You shrug lightly, “What can I say, the time really flew with them.”

•━━━━━━»•»💮💮💮«•«━━•••

What a coincidence, you’re in the same place he is, again. More specifically, his new workplace.

How is it possible that you have so many handsome friends? Jungkook is baffled by the way Park Jimin and the dark-haired friend feed you fries like you’re their precious daughter. In response, you scrunch up your nose and push them off, instead deciding to shove five fries in your mouth all at once.

As much as he wanted to ask you out since you admired his tattoos yesterday, he can’t find it in him to go up and interrupt your lunch. Besides, he has work and he doesn’t want to complicate things if Jimin finds out he was the one responsible for nearly running you over the other day.

If he walks fast enough, he can avoid any awkward interaction and make it to his office so he can give the day’s full report—

“Jungkook! Get your cute butt over here and meet my friends!”

Crap.

Trying not to glare daggers at his new co-worker, he places a thin smile on his face as he moves to your table in the corner of the cafeteria. He lets Jimin give the whole spiel on how he hired him, and Jungkook decides to hover awkwardly while the rest of you are sitting. The sun filters its way through the windows and bleeds brightly onto your body, making his throat dry and constrict in awe. Your expression is definitely more positive since that time at the library, and he wonders what he has to do to reach that level of contentment you’re sporting.

“Guys, this is Jungkook. I just hired him last week. He’s like my son.”

“Ewh,” the dark haired guy upturns his nose. “But hi, I’m Taehyung.”

While Jimin goes into detail about how amazing he found his work, he can’t help but notice the fond smile that melts upon your face as you listen intently to Jimin. Jungkook wants to archive that expression on your face and save it to memory, the way you look so pretty with your chin nestled in your hand, turning your head slightly to gaze at him with a look of what—pride? Affection?

“You sound like quite the artist,” you muse, “I would love to see some of your work if Jimin says it’s that good.”

He rubs his head bashfully, clutching the camera hanging on his chest like an anchor. “Oh no, I’m just starting out,” he replies shyly, although he would be lying if he said he didn’t crave the attention you were bestowing on him.

“He’s actually going out to Dongdaemun to get some stuff done for his portfolio,” Jimin pipes up, “hopefully get some good content for the commercial he’s filming.”

“Oh, do you mind if I tag along?” you ask, picking at a hangnail, “I’ve always been so curious about the producing process.”

Jungkook’s eyes dart between Jimin and his friend, noticing the telepathic conversation they’re exchanging between you two. Jungkook’s palms start to sweat, not because Jimin definitely wants to probe, but because you made the first move. You pay no mind to the boys, nonchalantly pushing in your chair as you practically float to Jungkook’s side.

“Wait,” Taehyung recovers first, “you know him?”

You agree with a vague wave of your hand, “we work in the same area.”

Jungkook knows for a fact that’s not true, as you only started appearing in his life when he almost knocked you out. But Jungkook can only nod like a bobblehead, not wanting to get into the nitty-gritty.

“I promise to stay out of your way,” you say, “but don’t feel pressured if you don’t want me to go at all!”

“No no, I want you to come!” and Jungkook raises his voice a little too high to be deemed mannerly, and he watches you step back a bit at the sudden intrusion. His face is on fire, especially when there’s a little smirk grazing your lips.

“Well if you want me, you’ll have me.” you flirt, gesturing for him to take the lead.

Jimin and Taehyung’s faces have fallen flat. There’s a stray bit of limp lettuce hanging sadly from Jimin’s lip as he watches Jungkook escort you out of the building. Meanwhile, Jungkook is swallowing the biggest smile on his face. He’s going to spend the rest of the day with you. He doesn’t know if he’s going to get a decent shot in because you’re a definite distraction, but it’s totally worth it if he can get to know you a little better.

You mention that you haven’t walked around Seoul in a while. Jungkook wants to ask more about it, but as open as you display yourself, there’s definitely something guarding you. Jungkook wants to chalk it up behind the whole fiasco of mistaking him for someone else the other day, so he doesn’t want to step on those eggshells again.

But Jungkook is here to work. So he tells you to walk on and lead the way to Dongdaemun while he gets ample footage of the city.

He’s taking pictures of you along the way, but he decides to leave that part out. He likes the way your long red dress swishes in the breeze, the tail end of the fabric brushing against his legs whenever he gets too close.

You stop in front of a pet store, face glowing as you point to their aquarium tank. “Look!” you cry, tugging his sleeve over as if you’re long lost friends, “it’s my boi Nemo!”

He cracks up at your joke, as you excitedly shout to Jungkook that “you found your son!” and it spurs him on to continue his peals of laughter. The joke isn’t that funny but it’s humorous enough coming from you and the smile on your face is enough for him to return one equally as big.

“C’mon,” his fingers brush over the bare skin of your forearm, sending sparks straight to his heart, “it’s getting dark. Just keep swimming.”

Jungkook manages to get some good sunset content before the sky turns navy. He’s not a big fan of photographic tourism spots, but Jimin insisted that the big boss wanted a specific style for their company and he needed to get used to making the usual seem unique.

Looking over his shoulder, he sees you swinging your legs on a nearby bench. You’re munching on a bubble waffle, cheeks puffed as you concentrate on the Cheonggyecheon stream, water babbling.

He’s about to ask you if you want him to take a picture of you, because he thinks you would look beautiful with your dress billowing as you hop over the stones, but he notices the sadness in your face as you gaze at the water.

Lowering his camera, he sees the way your chewing slows, as if you don’t feel like putting anymore effort in the action. Your dimmed gaze seems to peer into a different world, as if you could dive right into the water and transport yourself far, far away from here.

Jungkook takes tentative steps, crouching down from your space at the bench so he would have to look up at you. His hand hovers to balance himself on your thigh, but he thinks better of it and decides to hold onto the wood.

“Can I ask you something?”

He doesn’t comment on the strain in your smile, “Sure.”

“Do I remind you of y’know, him? Your Jungkook?”

Your smile increases, and he doesn’t expect it. Shifting over, you pat the space next to him. It’s a tight fit, and your thighs brush his. “Yes and no. It doesn’t hurt or anything, really,” you answer softly, and you reach for his hand, pulling the long sleeves apart to reveal his tiger lily tattoo. He doesn’t believe your excuse for a damn second, but decides better than to speak against you. “He’s still around, even if he isn’t here. I guess I was just thinking about how we could never go out like this.”

He tenses under your ministrations, and you immediately pick up on it like a sixth sense. “I’m not trying to replace him,” you add, and he tries to relax as you trace the petals on his arm, “I’m sorry if you felt that way. But it’s... impossible to compare you to him, really.”

“So, would you be interested in seeing me again?”

“I’d be upset if you weren’t, Kook.” you manage to pout, and you slide your hand down to thread your fingers between his. “Can I take you out on a date?”

“Only if I can take you out on one after.”

And it’s easy for the both of you to forget your circumstances, at least for tonight.

•━━━━━━»•»💮💮💮«•«━━•••

Jungkook drops you off at your apartment soon after, and it feels nice to kick off your shoes and place your bare feet on your soft carpet.

Your roommate’s feet are propped up, covered by a fuzzy grapefruit-colored blanket. Taehyung stretches his head from the couch to throw you a teasing smile, “Sooo, how was your night?”

Instead, you point a finger at the flatscreen playing some Korean drama. “Is that Jin?” you balk.

Taehyung cranes his neck to where he paused the drama. The man on the screen is definitely Kim Seokjin, judging from the plush lips and irritatingly symmetrical face. He looks absolutely comical in his Joseon get up and mustache, and you’re not surprised that he made it to the acting industry.

“Kim Seokjin? Yeahhhh,” Taehyung melts, relaxing into the couch, “that man is so fine I just want him to bend me over that little well and—”

You physically gag, causing Taehyung to break into peals of laughter, forgetting about his fruitless celebrity crush. Only you would never forget this interaction, the words currently searing into your memory at the thought of seeing Seokjin and Taehyung in the same room when you manage to return. “So?” he goads, “Jungkook? He looked like a scared bunny when Jimin glared at him.”

“It was… good,” you settle as an answer, reaching over to ruffle Taehyung’s messy bed head. “I like him, Tae.”

“That’s good,” Taehyung nods, “you deserve more happiness in your life.”

“You think so?”

“I know so!” Taehyung jerks up, punching his fist in the air. You giggle at his antics, and he ushers you over to the couch, “good things are coming, y/n. I can feel it.”

You don’t tell him, but you can feel it too. Sharing his blanket you snuggle further into the couch, asking questions about the famous actor Kim Seokjin and his litany of dramas he’s filmed under his belt. Tonight, falling asleep next to Taehyung, you have the best night’s sleep in weeks.

•━━━━━━»•»💮💮💮«•«━━•••

W1.

Jungkook sits in your sickness.

Namjoon says he doesn’t have to, doesn’t need to stay the night. You’ll be fine, your family will come in the morning and care for you. For once, Jungkook tucks his tail and says he wants to, even compromises to bring his work so he doesn’t miss a deadline.

But he can barely get a bar in because he’s too focused on you, your form all-encompassing as he makes sure you’re well-taken care of. Sehlyung dropped off your things from the apartment, carefully packed neatly in a duffle bag you’ve never used.

Soft, lo-fi hip hop plays from his computer speakers as he takes the time to nurture you, care for you. It’s dark outside, the only light emanating from the hallway and a dim desk lamp. He’s done his research, making sure to keep you as clean as you would like to be. He brushes your hair, takes the time to remove the tangles and pin it out of your face. His hands are slightly greasy when he’s done, and his hand falls to your hospital sleeve.

“I wonder how I should wash your hair,” he says aloud, “maybe I can get a small basin or something? It’s not the first time I washed your hair, remember when you sprained your arm after we snuck around in Dongdaemun?” he smiles at your peaceful expression, neutral, “you were such a baby, didn’t feel like shampooing with one hand.”

Talking is also good, too. They say that sometimes the patient can hear and recall conversations family and friends have shared. It’s a little jarring to them, almost like they’re drowning in their heads and unable to bubble up to the surface to reply, but it’s still reassuring to hear familiar voices.

He massages your limbs with lavender scented baby lotion, making sure your body isn’t wasting away and stretches your fingers and toes. You’d have a fit if you didn’t do your whole lotion routine daily, wanting to be soft and huggable at all times of the day. He puts on a pair of pink bunny socks, making sure your feet don’t get too cold in the sterile room.

Running out of things to talk about, he settles for singing along to his playlist, knowing how much you loved to fall asleep to the sound of his voice. He’s tired and he doesn’t feel one-hundred percent, but he hopes you appreciate the sentiment either way.

Weaving through the wires and cords that sustain you he places your hand in his larger one. Jungkook wishes he could care for you everyday like this, treat your body like a temple and wait for you to wake up. Resting his head on the mattress, his soft locks brush against your thigh unkempt as he focuses on tracing words on your palm.

Lavender. Chicken. Netflix.

Your nurse steps in, giving Jungkook a polite wave as she does her nightly rounds. He mumbles a half-hearted greeting in response, immersed in working between the lines on your soft skin as he traces character by character. Your nurse is quick with her work as she checks things off on her iPad and checks the machines that keep them informed. As if she’s intruding on an intimate moment, she types her findings faster.

JK. y/n. Still with you. Sorry. Love.

Your hand twitches in his grasp. It’s minuscule, a brief curl of your fingers. The pad of your thumb barely brushes his knuckle and Jungkook’s reeling. It’s only half a second, but Jungkook cries “whoa!” and sits up straight, startling your nurse, “she’s moving!”

Your nurse smiles sadly at the sparkles of hope in his eyes. “It’s only muscle spasms, Jungkook. It happens sometimes,” and she catches herself before Jungkook’s shoulders deflate and sink into the floor, “but see her eyes?”

He blinks, watching as the nurse gestures to your face. She’s right, your eyes are movie, flickering back and forth. Your lids may not be open, but the movement is there.

“She’s either dreaming or really listening to you, Jungkook,” your nurse murmurs fondly, “make sure you keep her entertained, being in a coma is awfully boring.”

Jungkook thanks her, sending a terse smile as she whisks herself away. He squeezes your hand firmly, wishing you would give him another sign. He feels like he’s chasing you now, reaching out to you, talking to you in hopes you’ll reply. It’s ironic, considering this time he’s not sure if you’ll turn around this time, bounce back as you once were.

Wiping the wetness from his eyes, he tucks you in and scoots his chair closer to your bed. “Wake up soon, yeah? We’re waiting for you,” he whispers, holding your hand next to his head as he tries to fall asleep.

Tonight, he’s dreamless.

#jungkook fic #bts fic #goldenclosetnet #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook scenarios #bts scenarios

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sheerbeautyreigns · 3 years

Text

DESIRE

Part 57

Joe awoke the next day, squinting against the bright lights. He could instantly feel his swollen lip. His eyes searched the room, trying to figure out where he was. “Baby, I’m so glad you’re awake.” Paul sounded releived, clutching his hand. “Where am I?” He still felt groggy.

“You’re in the hospital. I have the best doctors taking care of you.”

“What happened?” He asked, confused. “You don’t remember?” Joe nodded, raising his hand to his head. “You were assaulted at the party. When we found you, your face was bleeding and there’s some damage to your rectum. This is all my fault.” A look of horror crossed Joe's face as flashes from the night before came to mind. “It was Michael. I remember…” Tears streamed down Joe face. “I knew it! Don’t worry baby. The cops are on it.” Paul leaned over the bed and stroked his better cheek, wiping away his tears. “I’m so sorry! I’m gonna take care of you, I promise. I’ve already spoken to Vince.” Paul assured him

“Oh God.” Joe panicked. “It’s OK, he’s fine. I told him you were attacked. I told him I’m dealing with it.” At that moment, a nurse came in. “Honey, you should be resting. Sir, you shouldn’t be here getting him all worked up. He needs to rest. He’s had a traumatic experience.”

“I’m sorry, I just need to be with him.” Paul intervened, still clutching his hand. “It’s OK, I want him here.” Joe said weakly. “Well you need to rest and you need to get some rest too. You’ve been here all night.” She told Paul off.

“I’ll be fine. Why don’t you go back to the hotel and sleep?” Joe suggested. “I’m still tired. Please?” The hotel was maybe a 15 minute drive. “OK.” Paul finally gave in. “I’ll be back in a few hours. I love you so much.” He stood and kissed his forehead tenderly.

After Paul left, Joe lay alone in his room sobbing to himself, remembering more about the night before. He felt sick to his stomach. Eventually he drifted off to sleep again. When Paul arrived back a few hours later, Joe had just woken up. “I brought some of your things.” He said setting his gym bag aside. “Did you get any sleep?”

“A little. My heads all over the place.” Paul leaned down and kissed his forehead, stroking his hair. “It’s strange seeing your hair in a ponytail.”

“It’s not my choice.” Joe tried to smile but his mouth hurt too much. He hated that Joe was going through this. It had already been an eventful week for them. “Do you remember anything more about…about what happened?” Paul asked hesitantly, settling into the seat by the bed, holding onto his hand. “It was Michael. He was already being forceful with me. Then this other guy showed up. He was kinda big, tanned, dark hair. It’s like they planned to hurt me. Michael slapped my mouth at first and then he…he punched me in the face. I don’t remember anything other than the other guy trying to fuck me. It hurt so much.” Joe raised his palms to his face and inhaled deeply, trying not to cry again. Paul’s blood was boiling. “I promise. We’ll get them. I promise.”

“I feel so bad about missing work.” Joe sniffled. “Hey, don’t worry about that. Vince totally understands. Obviously he doesn’t know exactly what happened, just that you were jumped but he didn’t ask many questions. As long as he knows I’m dealing with it, it’s fine. Based on what the doctors say, you might only be out for a couple of weeks. They’ll have to reconstruct your nose and obviously you’ll l have to take it easy. You wonwon’t need to forfeit your title.”

“I don’t care about that. I just don’t want people to start asking why we were together…” Joe looked slightly worried.

“Let them ask. It’s nobody’s business. All I care about is you.”

Joe ended up having surgery on his nose the following day at lunchtime. It was a success and Paul was told he should be out in a couple of days. He wasn’t able to see him as he had to be in Stamford for important meetings with the board. Once done, he flew to LA to bring Joe back to Tampa. He took him straight to his apartment where his mother was waiting. She had been worried sick and was horrified to see what had happened to her baby. Understand his eyes were slightly swollen as was his lip. His face was bruised around the midsection. After spending the whole evening making a fuss and thanking Paul over and over for taking care of him, she left but promised to be back.

“Your mother makes such a fuss.” Paul laughed coming into the living room after saying goodbye. Joe forced a faint smile and nodded. “As much as you do.”

“I just wanna be here for you.” Paul said settling down beside him on the sofa. “Can I get you anything?”

“Just relax. You haven’t stopped since we got back.” Joe said, resting his hand on Joe's lap. “You must be shattered after today.” Paul commented, brushing a loose strand of hair from his face. “I am. I would have made this place more presentable if I’d known you were coming to stay.”

“Baby, don’t be silly. It’s totally fine.” Paul smiled. “I’m glad to be here. It’s better for NXT and I can pick up the keys for the new house.” Joe could hear the excitement in his voice. “I’ll take good care of you baby.” Paul kissed his temple after Joe lowered his head onto his chest. The rhythm of his heartbeat relaxed him to the point on falling asleep. Paul was content to lay in silence for a while stroking his fingers through Joe’s hair. It was crazy to think that he had wanted to hurt him, himself less than a week ago when all he wanted to do now was protect him.

The next morning, Paul woke early to go for a run. When he returned, Joe was still asleep. He made himself comfortable in the dining area and did some work on his laptop. It was about 10am when Joe padded into the kitchen wearing nothing but his house coat.

“When did you wake up?” He asked groggily. The swelling on his face was starting to go down. “About 8. I wanted to go for a run.” Paul was already preparing a pot of coffee. “You were out all night.”

“I’m still so tired. I think it’s with being in my own bed again…” Joe pulled up a chair at the breakfast bar where Paul was sat. “Here, have this. It shouldn’t be too hot.” Joe took the mug of coffee. “Thanks. What’s your plan for today?”

“Well I have a few emails to respond to this and I was gonna swing by the Performance Centre to see a few of the guys and also meet the realtor to get the keys for Piney Lane. Do you wanna come?”

“I can’t, I look terrible.” Joe frowned. “Baby, I get it. You will be back to yourself in no time. I just wanted to get you out for a little while.” Joe looked at him apologetically “Maybe when this swelling goes down. It’s just too soon.”

“Take all the time you need. There’s no rush.” Paul stroked his cheek and kissed him. “Have you heard anything more from the police?”

“Not yet but I’m on it. He hadn’t been back at his place in New York.” Paul sounded stressed. “I wish I never left you alone with him.”

“Hey, you didn’t know.” Joe tried to tell him. “I just didn’t think he would be capable of doing that. I swear if I get my hands on him-” Joe raised is hands to him. “Let’s just leave it to the cops. They know what they’re doing.”

Joe kissed Paul softly and placed his hands on his chest. “I do appreciate you being here. I just don’t want to take you away from where you need to be.”

“I don’t need to be anywhere. I want to be here with you. You need someone here to look after you.”

“I just don’t want Vince and the others to start becoming suspicious.” Joe said with concern. “They won’t baby. They trust me. I told them I would be helping you out. Besides, they know we’re friends.”

“I guess so.” Joe answered “By the way, I hope you’re still taking your medication for your anxiety?” He checked. “Yes Sir.”

“Good boy. You need it now more than ever.” Paul settled at his laptop after pouring a cup of coffee. “I’m gonna jump in the shower.” Joe told him. “OK babe.” After Joe had gone into the bathroom, his phone rang about 10 minutes later. Paul eyed it on the breakfast bar. It was Colby. He let it ring out before he called him on his own phone out in the balcony.

“Hey, are you with Joe?” He asked upon answering. “Yeah, he’s in the shower.”

“Is he OK?” Colby asked with urgency. “What do you mean?” Paul asked. “Paul, people are talking. We heard he was assaulted a few nights ago. Paul palmed his forehead “Who’s talking?”

“A few of us. Steph told me because she knows we’re close and she knows I’d suspect something if he wasn’t here tonight.”

“Shit…I told Vince to keep it quiet.” Paul said shaking his head. “Paul! Tell me. How is he?” Colby pushed. “He’s fine. He’s had surgery to repair his nose so there’s swelling. I’m just staying at his place to look after him.”

“OK well I’m in Florida next week-” Paul cut him off. “No! Don’t come. Sorry, he’s very self conscious right now.”

“Paul, I need to see him. He’s a good friend. You can’t dictate who he sees.” Colby spat.

“Look, I didn’t mean it like that. He just needs some time. He’s not in a good place and you know he’s already had problems with his anxiety. I’m trying with him.”

Colby sighed. “OK. Please take care of him.”

“You have my word. Whoever knows about this, tell them to keep their mouths shut. I don’t want this getting anywhere near the dirt sheets. It’s too much for him right now-” At that moment Paul turned to see Joe standing in the living room watching him. He hadn’t closed the door fully. Paul eyed him. “I gotta go.”

“Who was that?” He asked. “Who knows?”

“It doesn’t matter baby-” Paul tried to brush him off. “I don’t appreciate being talked about behind my back.”

“Hey wait a minute, I’m here trying to help you-” Paul started, spreading his arms. “Help me? I wouldn’t be in this mess if it weren’t for you.”

“What the hells gotten into you!?” He raised his voice. “I don’t need you telling people about my anxiety Paul!”

“I’m sorry! If you must know, it was Colby so he already knows about it. I can’t believe you’re snapping at me like this.” He walked over to the breakfast bar and closed down his laptop. “Look you’ve gotta understand, I’m in a bad place right now…” Joe started following Paul into the spare room where his case was. “You will not talk to me like that after what I’ve done for you.”

“All you’ve done is cause me a world of fucking pain!” Joe snapped again. “You ungrateful son of a bitch.” Paul glared at him and threw the last of his things in before closing it. Joe retreated to his room and slammed the door. Paul stared at it, fuming. He wanted to kick it in but he left instead. A few minutes later, Joe came out of his room. The apartment was silent. He looked around and there was not a trace of any of Paul’s belongings. He felt a lump in his throat and moments later, burst out crying when he realised he was really gone.

#roman reigns #roman reigns fic #tribal chief #fanfiction #triple h #paul levesque #wrestling fiction

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i-call-me-clarence · 4 years

Text

So @ao3commentoftheday suggested people make rec lists during these trying times and I decided to go ahead and jump on the band wagon. Here is a list of 13 Johnlock fics, sorted from shortest to longest. There’s H/C, PWP, Case Fics, PRETEND RELATIONSHIPS, and some pretty dank AU’s.

Okay then, onto the tropes!

(fics listed below)

Caught by Salambo06 (AO3) ( @salambo06fics)

Author’s Summary: A hotel room. They’re here for a case, hadn’t planned to spend the night and ended up sharing a room. No, sharing a bed. Suddenly John is very much aware of his own hand closed around his hard cock and the ragged breathing next to him. Closing his eyes for the briefest second, John dares to turn his head just enough to confirm what he already knows.

Sherlock, on his side, watching him.

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 1,859

Tags/Warnings: bed sharing, wet dreams, POV John, Masturbation, Frottage, First Time, First Kiss

A PWP that’s scorching hot. ‘Nough said. (BUTOMG it is REALLY hot, beware reading in public yo)

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Paranoia by Ewebie (AO3) ( @ewebie)

Author’s Summary: is a description of the rules of the drinking game Paranoia and also too long to put here! But suffice it to say that this fic involves drinking games at the Yard.

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 3,789

Tags/Warnings: Tumblr Prompt, Drinking Games, Silly... no smut but building fun and allusions to upcoming rrrwarr

I love fics where the team at the Yard and the boys all get drunk together. Throw in a drinking game and I’m already hooked. This fic was really funny and cheered me up when I was sick with the flu a while back (perfect time to read it again!)

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Coldness/Heat by agirlsname (AO3) ( @agrlsname)

Author’s Summary: The inn is booked up on New Year's Eve. The train home is cancelled because of the snow. The only option is to sleep in the non-heated guest room of a client, and John and Sherlock are freezing.

You know where this is going.

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 3,790

Tags/Warnings: Fluff and Smut, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Bedsharing, Sharing Body Heat, Frottage New Year's Eve, Cuddling & Snuggling, Friends to Lovers

THERE IS ONLY ONE BED! AND THEY ARE SO COLD! WHATEVER ARE OUR BOYS TO DO?!?!?! Turn it up to 11 in this amazing PWP, that’s what.

---- Stranded by BeautifulFiction (AO3) ( @the-pen-pot )

Author’s Summary: ‘Do you think we’re less than that – best friends? Or more?’

John’s head pulled back, and the look he received suggested John was seriously wondering how someone so intelligent could be so stupid. ‘Well, definitely not less.’

When stranded on a derelict barge at high tide, John and Sherlock reconsider their friendship.

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 5,798

Tags/Warnings: case fic, cuddling for warmth, first kiss

I really liked this fic. It really drew me in with it’s imagery, I could see the scenes as easily as I could see John and Sherlock getting together in this way.

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Azure On Grey by shiplocks_of_love (AO3) ( @shiplocks-of-love )

Author’s Summary: When Sherlock’s transport betrays him and conventional healthcare fails to help, John comes up with an unorthodox solution…

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 8,986

Tags/Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Medical issues, Kidney Stones, Embarrassing Situations, brief mention of past substance abuse, unorthodox medical treatments, Amusement Parks, Intimacy, hints of romance, Pining John, friends to almost lovers

This fic is a wonderful H/C that features a sick Sherlock who can be exceptionally fragile at times, and a caring Watson. Makes me wish I’d had a John around when I had kidney stones :’(

---- Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder by cypress_tree (AO3) ( @cypress-tree)

Author’s Summary: John helps Sherlock with an experiment: for an entire month, they are not allowed to touch each other and must remain at least one metre apart at all times. Meanwhile, I conduct my own experiment: how much UST can I shove into a single fic?

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 10,669

Tags/Warnings: Unresolved Sexual Tension, it's for an experiment John, Resolved Sexual Tension, smut

Sexy, silly, amazing.

---- Chaperones by MissDavis (AO3) ( @missdaviswrites)

Author’s Summary: Right. Of course. Everyone assumed they were a couple and no one would question it. John put his elbows up on the table so he could rest his head in his hands. "You want to pretend to be a couple so we can chaperone a trip to Disney World with Rosie's class and you won't have to share a room with a stranger?"

"Exactly." Sherlock beamed at him. "Don't worry about the cost. The Birmingham case last month paid more than enough to cover expenses for all three of us."

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 34,115

Tags/Warnings: Fake/Pretend Relationship, Sharing a Room, Sharing a Bed. Disney World, Parentlock, Friends to Lovers, Fluff, First Kiss

I’ll just use what I wrote when I bookmarked this lovely fic: I’ve never been more compelled by Disney related things than when I was reading this fic. I’ll never go to Disney World, but I’ll sure as hell read this fic again omg was it good

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The Darkness Within, So Close by shiplocks_of_love (AO3) ( @shiplocks-of-love ) ((I hope @ing you twice doesn’t cause any issues! Sorry in advance. Tumblr confuses me))

Author’s Summary: Alec Hardy and Ellie Miller deal with a new string of murders in Broadchurch. Help comes from an unlikely place as Sherlock Holmes and John Watson travel to West Dorset. But when the new crimes open old wounds and unearth the ghost of Moriarty, it becomes clear the game is not over yet.

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 42,312

Tags/Warnings: casefic, Sherlock x Broadchurch crossover fic, Underage Death, Murder, MAJOR spoilers for Broadchurch S1 and S2 and for Sherlock S3, post S3 Sherlock, post S2 Broadchurch, you are MOST welcome to put johnlock glasses on but this is pre-slash okay?, Light Angst, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence

I haven’t actually finished this fic yet, but the characterizations for the characters of both universes are spot on. When Alec Hardy started shouting at the beginning, David Tennant appeared in my room and started reading the fic aloud to me. True story. Also this fic is part of a series, so, like, that’s amazing.

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The Norwood Love Builders by flawedamythyst (AO3) ( Tumblr: https://flawedamythyst.tumblr.com/) ((couldn’t @ you for some reason. Prob, again, because Tumblr makes my brain hurt))

Author’s Summary: Sherlock and John go undercover to solve the murder of Joanna Oldacre, but things are complicated by the many feelings John has been repressing in the wake of Sherlock's faked death and return.

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 47,798

Tags/Warnings: case fic, fake/pretend relationship, couples retreat, bed sharing, therapy (for a case...that’s a weird tag but I read this in fic so often so), pining John, UST, First Kiss, getting together

Amazing fic by an amazing writer. I have a weakness for ‘pretend relationship for a case’, especially when it’s filled with pining and ust. So in other words this fic is perfect.

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Bridging the Ravine by SilentAuror (AO3) ( @silentauroriamthereal)

Author’s Summary: Sherlock and John go undercover at Ravine Valley, a therapy centre for same-sex male couples in an investigation into a possible human trafficking ring. As they pose as a couple and fake their way through the therapy sessions for the sake of the case, it quickly becomes difficult to avoid discussing their very real issues. Set roughly nine months after series 4.

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 58,887

Tags/Warnings: post-series 4, Romance, Awkwardness galore, fake couple trope, Therapy, sex trafficking ring, First Times, Massages, wet t-shirt contest, Group Therapy, loss of child (past), Bed-sharing

Pretend relationship for a case, and it’s a really good case too! Plus it’s at a couples therapy retreat, I mean, come on!! And the OC’s, don’t even get me started on them, because I won’t be able to stop singing their praises. This fic was sent by the gods through the blood sweat and tears of the extremely talented SilentAuror. You should honestly just go and binge all of their stuff. What else are you gonna do during quarantine? OH! And guess what??? THERE’S A SEQUEL!

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Sensory Science by sussexbound(SamanthaLenore) (AO3) ( @sussexbound)

Author’s Summary: John Watson has been invalided home from Afghanistan and is struggling with anxiety, depression, PTSD and insomnia, when an old friend from med school recommends something that might help: An ASMR YouTube Channel run by a friend.

One session in and John is hooked, not only by the way the ASMR seems to calm him after nightmares, and help him sleep, but also by the mysterious man who runs it.

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 80,017

Tags/Warnings: Friends to Lovers, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, PTSD John, ASMR, first meeting AU, problem drinking, Nightmares, Suicidal Thoughts, Internalized Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Anxiety, Depression, Homophobic Language, Masturbation, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Prostate Massage, Prostate Orgasm, Phone Sex, Mutual Masturbation, Frottage, Coming Untouched, Aborted Blowjobs, Rimming

Amazing fic that really draws you in. Even if ASMR isn’t necessarily your thing, this is still a fantastic read. I mean, it’s by sussexbound, so what else would you expect?

----

Rewind by All_I_Need (AO3) ( @the-reading-lemon)

Author’s Summary: About a month before John's wedding, he and Sherlock embark on one last case together: a murder at a remote hotel in the middle of nowhere. A lot can happen in a week. And a lot doesn't. But what if ...?

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 87,594

Tags/Warnings: Pining, Angst, John is an oblivious idiot, all the feels, Rewind - Freeform, what if, Sharing a Bed, Dancing Lessons, literally everyone sees more than John does, Fake/Pretend Relationship

THIS FIC! This fic!! Let me tell you a thing about this fic: it’s amazing! I haven’t finished it completely, but the unique ‘rewind’ effect is something I hadn’t ever seen before. Interesting concept, pretend relationship for a case, hot, hot smut, AND THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED. What more could you want in a fic, honestly?

---- Out There by DiscordantWords (AO3) ( @discordantwords)

Author’s Summary: FBI Special Agent John Watson, medical doctor and army veteran, is assigned to assist eccentric genius Sherlock Holmes with paranormal investigations on the X-Files project.

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 131,695

Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - X-Files Fusion, Slow Burn, UST, No seriously a lot of UST, This is the X files they basically wrote the book on UST, casefic, Case Fic, Government Conspiracy, Aliens, UFOs, Mutants, Pining Sherlock, Pining John, First Kiss, Coma

The X-files/Sherlock crossover I always needed in my life. I think at least a few other Johnlockers out there (ha! Fic title) have watched X-files and thought ‘holy cow this is so John and Sherlock, I need the AU or else I’ll die’. Well look no further! No need to die! Read and watch as all your X-files/Sherlock wishes come true :D

----

And that concludes this rec list! There will prob be a part 2 coming out as I’ve got hundreds of fics saved on this pairing. Also stay tuned for fic rec lists for some of my other fav ships! Spirk, Garashir, Hannigram, Bunny/Raffles, and more!!

#johnlock fic rec list #johnlock fic rec #something to read while quarantined #first rec list so #i am excite #also making that banner up there was super fun #johnlock #fanfic #sherlock fan fiction #bbc sherlock #johnlock fic recs

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lavendersage · 3 years

Note

O good its 3 am here and I've had a couple beers, so apparently it's time to be in love in public and unburden my heart a bucket's full or two.

I (M28) have been dating my boyfriend (M26) for a little over a year. He (let's call him Ben) has been one of the greatest strokes of luck I've ever had. He is kind, clever, and hard-working. This has been, by far, the best relationship of my life.

He just has one quirk. Even in 100° weather, he either wears a turtle-neck undershirt, a high collar, or a bandana around his neck. Basically, he never shows off any skin below his Adam's apple, and he never wears sleeves that don't at least go down to his elbows.

I, a dumbass, never thought anything strange of it. It wasnt until the first time we were fooling around that I realized there may be more to it than I thought. To put it bluntly, he was more comfortable with taking off his clothes below the belt than above it. After a little prodding, he told me that he'd be most comfortable if he kept his shirt on, and if I was blindfolded, if the room was dark, or both. And I, already a dumbass but now also in love with someone who had never asked for anything, was happy to do anything that got him in my arms faster.

Eventually he told me the story of how, when he was 9, he was helping his grandmother cook at the stove when the stepstool slid out from under him. He knocked a pot of hot oil on his chest and was severely burned from neck to hips.

I asked him if he had to keep his chest covered for medical protection and he said no, that he just was deeply ashamed of his scars and couldn't work up the nerve to show me. I didnt press it. 2020 is stressful enough.

He tried to take off his shirt on our anniversary but he wasnt ready. Last Monday, he succeeded. It's just like he said, he has scars from his neck to his groin. The thing is they don't bother me at all. Not at all. Don't get me wrong, the idea of how painful shoulder to waist burns must have been makes me nauseous. I hate the idea of him being in the hospital for months. But while the idea of his pain and his worry that I wouldn't love him as much gives me grief, the burns themselves don't phase me. They're just part of The Ben and The Ben is amazing.

But about 30 seconds into showing me his scars, he had a panic attack. This was the first one I'd ever seen. I blame the shitstorm of 2020 for wearing him down to a frazzle, but whether he would have responded that way if the world wasnt on fire, it still hurts how much shame he's been carrying.

I want to handle this as tenderly as possible. I'm so worried about making him feel belittled or like I'm not taking something so important to him seriously. I want to tell him that if he never wanted to do the emotional labor of taking his undershirt off around me for the rest of our lives, I would never feel short-changed, but I'm worried he'll take that as me not wanting to see his chest, playing into his insecurity. On the other hand, I want to support him in over-coming his anxiety around this if only so that he can relax more, but his comfort is my foremost aim so I really don't want to press. I want to tell him that if someone ran up to me on the street and said, "Quick! Name one quirk about your partner's skin! First thing that comes to mind!" I'd instinctively say, "Really cool Squirtle tattoo" because that's actually the first thing that comes my mind. I want him to know that I was completely unbothered, that this is a non-hurdle not something I'm "accepting," but more than anything I want to play this out in a way that he doesn't end up shaming himself for the first level of shame.

Fully-dressed, Ben is confidence itself. Seeing him double-over because he was so afraid of how I'd respond is a sight that's going to stay with me so much longer than the scars themselves.

i’m so sorry that your boyfriend has had to carry this burden throughout his life, and i’m sorry for the pain he must’ve endured in the wake of that accident. you sound so in love when you talk about him, and that’s just the thing, right? sometimes we get so hyperfocused on things we hate about ourselves that we can’t imagine someone else being able to look past them, or loving every single piece of us exactly as we are. you sound like an amazing partner--taking things at his pace. prioritizing his comfort, not pushing his limits. he’s lucky to have someone like you, and you’re lucky to have a love like him. best of luck to both of you 💚💚💚

#asks

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blitzturtles · 3 years

Text

Title: Heatwave

Rating: Teen and Up

Fandom: JoJo's Bizarre Adventure: Vento Aureo

Pairing(s): MeloGhia / GhiaMelo

Summary: To say that Ghiaccio hates the heat would be something of an understatement. He can’t stand it. Can’t exist in it.

Notes: I read that Ghiaccio having problems with/hating the heat is a bit of a fan favorite in terms of headcanons, and, since I am heat intolerant, I thought I'd inflict something called dysautonomia on him.

Dysautonomia basically means the autonomic nervous system (heartbeat, breathing, etc...) doesn't functioning correctly. And one type of dysautonomia is POTS, or Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome. This can cause an increase in heart rate, lowered blood pressure, orthostatic intolerance (difficulty with standing, which is usually caused by an abrupt drop of blood pressure and a significantly elevated heart rate), heat intolerance, etc...

To say that Ghiaccio hates the heat would be something of an understatement. He can’t stand it. Can’t exist in it. Because the heat hates him just as much. It builds under his skin, while his blood collects in all the wrong places, apparently he’s too weak against gravity for his body to continue to circulate properly.

Every attempt at moving brings about a response wherein his heart pounds away painfully in his chest. It’s an attempt, on its part, to try to correct the problem, but it’s really only making it worse. The inner chambers of his heart squeeze too hard, and the bounding of his pulse can be felt through his clothes-- not that he’s wearing much more than a tank top and a pair of boxers at this point.

He’s tried to use White Album to keep the worst of it at bay, but he’s running out of energy. Partly because this particular wave of too-hot days has stretched on for nearly a week, and partly because his body is exhausting itself in its effort to recapture homeostasis.

Nausea bubbles up on his guts for the umpteenth time; a sure sign that all the blood in his body is being shunted away from anything deemed non-vital. He hasn’t eaten much of anything in days simply to avoid the repercussions of an underactive digestive system, and that certainly isn’t helping.

He knows he isn’t drinking enough water, either. Knows that it’s vital for someone like him, but he can’t bring himself to care when he’s splayed out on the cold floor of his bedroom with limbs spread in every direction. Every time the floor warms, he simply scoots to a new spot or rolls himself over until it becomes necessary to repeat the process all over again.

Being on the floor has the added bonus of reducing the amount of energy that goes into his body fighting gravity. If he were to try to stand right now, the dizziness would hit him so severely that he might not be able to catch himself before blacking out. All of his blood would rush down into his legs, and his brain would momentarily blip out on him. The last thing he needs is a concussion.

He’s too caught in his own thoughts to notice someone popping the door open (it should be locked anyways, but when has that ever stopped anyone in this godforsaken house?)

“Ah,” Melone says when he looks into the room and sets his eyes on Ghiaccio. He makes his way over to the sprawled man and peers down at him through a curtain of lavender hair, “Body being a bitch today?”

“You’re being a bitch today,” Ghiaccio snaps back, but there’s no heat to it.

“Aw,” Melone juts out his lower lip, “Now is that any way to talk to the one that brought you presents?”

“I don’t give a fuck, Mel, go away,” the nickname is the only thing that betrays his attempt at sound pissed. He isn’t really. Not at Melone, but he’s miserable and sick to his stomach and overheated and kind of over the whole living thing.

Melone pretends to consider the request-- it’s not one-- before grinning, “No. Don’t think so. Up with you! Wait, no. Don’t move.” He disappears out the door, though only just outside of it. He comes back a few seconds later with a massive duffel bag that only makes Ghiaccio groan. He has no idea what Melone is up to, but he can tell when Melone’s scheming, and that doesn’t always bode well for Ghiaccio.

Without asking, Melone settles down next to Ghiaccio on the floor, right in his next cold spot, and that gets Melone a glare that he, of course, ignores. “Relax, the internet said this’ll help.”

“The internet says all kinds of bullshit,” Ghiaccio mumbles with a roll of his eyes, but there’s no stopping Melone now.

At least not until he pulls a needle, and Ghiaccio suddenly finds the energy (adrenaline) to quickly sit up in an attempt to escape. His vision rapidly fades out, and it’s only Melone’s hands that stop him from hitting the ground.

“Have a little faith, Ghia!” Melone whines, but he’s still grinning.

Bastard.

“Whatever,” now Ghiaccio is losing patience with the man.

“The science is sound! You’re low on blood volume, and I’ve got a pretty easy fix for that. Plus some ice packs,” Melone resumes digging into the bag and pulls out several, soft freezer packs. Ghiaccio takes them with a little more eagerness than he means to let on, but Melone only smiles in response. A softer, more genuine thing that makes Ghiaccio’s heart flutter for an entirely different reason.

“How are you going to ‘fix’ my blood volume?”

“You’ll see,” Melone answers, earning himself a roll of the eyes from Ghiaccio.

It takes Melone awhile to set up whatever he’s doing, and Ghiaccio gives up figuring it out only a few minutes in. He’s gathered that it has to do with some sort of injection. Possibly more than one, given the tourniquet, but he doesn’t know enough about medical supplies to put any of the other pieces together. Instead, he closes his eyes and tries to focus on the feeling of the freezing sensation against his skin from where he’s stuck the packs against his stomach and legs. It’s both a relief and a comfort. Cold is an old, reliable friend and his only solace in times like these.

Eventually, Melone breaks him out of his daze to ask, “Ready?”

Melone wraps the tourniquet around Ghiaccio’s upper arm as he speaks, and Ghiaccio simply shrugs with his other shoulder. He doesn’t think he actually has much say in this. When Melone sets his mind to something, he’s going to follow it through, and that goes double for medical experiments. It’s not the first time Ghiaccio is on the receiving end, and he has to admit that it hasn’t ever gone too horribly for him in the past.

“Okay,” Melone grabs the needle again. He pops the cap off and holds it up to his good eye for a moment before he lowers it toward Ghiaccio’s elbow. “On three. One, two-”

“OW! Fuck you!”

“Three,” Melone smiles at him with a feigned sweetness, like he doesn’t know why Ghiaccio might want to pull the needle right back out of his arm and stick it between Melone’s eyes.

Melone doesn’t pay him the slightest bit of attention as he slides the needle out and leaves behind a small catheter. He screws something into the end of it and slaps tape over it. It’s then that Ghiaccio notices the bag of fluids already hung up on the nearest surface, which just happens to be his dresser.

“There,” Melone says when he finishes setting up everything to his liking, “That should do it.” He taps the bag with his pointer finger, “Saline. An easy and safe way to up your volume.”

Ghiaccio doesn’t particularly like the implication that there’s an unsafe way.

“Well, mostly. Technically this isn’t the most sterile environment, so you could get an infection, but I’ve done worse on the kitchen table on Pesci’s day to do dishes, sooo.” And there it is.

“Please stop talking,” Ghiaccio says with a groan and tries to push away the anxiety that’s building at the mere thought of sepsis.

“Aww, have a little faith. You’ll be fine, and this should make you feel a lot better. For at least a day or two, and maybe the heatwave will finally go away,” Melone beams at him before he starts to clean up his mess. He gathers it all up in a trash bag he must have brought with him, though that doesn’t exactly answer why the duffel bag is so large.

“What else do you have in there?” Ghiaccio asks against his better judgement. He still isn’t so sure about this saline thing, but his curiosity has always been a bit of a problem.

“Oh, more fluids, in case you need them, and some uh- well, let’s just say a snack for our resident pseudo-vampire. It has to stay cold until it’s… used, so I’ve got it in a cooler.”

Ghiaccio hums and as he processes the words. Seems he isn’t the only one suffering through the heat, though he has a feeling Risotto’s situation is more of a repercussion from his most recent hit. Then again, maybe the heat is getting to the man. It’s not often that Risotto’s left in a bad enough state where he needs Melone’s help. He usually has Prosciutto for that.

“I’m going to go take care of that, actually. You should be fine here for a bit. That bag will finish in about forty-five minutes, so just stay put,” Melone says like Ghiaccio has any intention of going anywhere, regardless of the ice and saline. He stands with the bag slung over his shoulder and glances between the door and Ghiaccio, obviously not wanting to leave, but knowing that he’s needed elsewhere.

“Go take care of Ris,” Ghiaccio mumbles in lieu of a thanks. He’ll repay Melone for his efforts later. When he’s feeling more human.

“Yes, sir!”

Ghiaccio groans and rolls his eyes, “Get the fuck out.”

Melone laughs and dashes for the door before Ghiaccio can hurtle a pointed chunk of ice directly at his head.

It’s barely twenty minutes-- and only half a bag later-- when Ghiaccio finds himself able to sit up without the world spinning.

“Huh,” is all he can say into the empty room. Leave it to Melone.

#meloghia #ghiamelo #ghiaccio #melone #jjba #jojo's bizarre adventure #vento aureo #golden wind #blitzwrites #blitz

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oneofyatosfollowers · 4 years

Text

Yatori Week Day 7- Fluff/AU

@yatoriweek2020

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25401826/chapters/61945465

Fanfiction: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13648502/1/Yatori-Week-2020

The last of the autumn leaves were starting to fall, signalling winter's imminent arrival. With the colder winds brought in a chill that settled into her grandmother's bones, and a severe lack of cheap supplies. Hiyori did the best she could to prepare, using the book her brother left that contained her late father's medicines. She worked well into the night after buying and selling produce in the town down the hill. It was tiring and- as much as it hurt Hiyori to admit- it was fruitless. Her grandmother's cough was getting worse and her body weaker. Still, Hiyori persisted.

"Here," Hiyori spooned some medicine into her grandmother's mouth, "the herbs are fresh so it should be stronger." She winced when the old woman made a twisted face. Behind her, a small newt-like creature tried to copy the same face and Hiyori giggled at it.

"Hiyori, you should really worry about yourself more. I'm not sure I'll be able to make it through the winter-"

"-Grandma, not this again. The medications have been helping you feel better, haven't they?' Hiyori couldn't keep the grief out of her voice, the lines of her distressed face hardly easing when her grandmother placed a hand over hers.

"You didn't let me finish. I'm not sure I'll be able to make it through winter without magic," she breathed. Hiyori's eyebrows raised at the whimsical way the word was said. It was known in the family that the women of her family were very attuned with the supernatural, her brother an odd exception, but it's not like her family knew any spells?

"Do you know?" Hiyori swallowed her excitement.

"No, no," her grandmother chuckled, "I never received any sort of training. Not like the magus on the hill and his apprentice." She winked at Hiyori when her eyes dawned with understanding.

The magus on the hill was a local legend that is said to be over one-thousand years old. He's a recluce that only lets certain people meet him and will only offer help if a price can be met. More is known about his apprentice, a young teen who is also said to be immortal. He runs most of the magus's errands in and out of town and is said to be very polite, unlike his mentor.

"But we don't have," Hiyori bit her lip. Her father was once a well-to-do doctor in town but after he passed money- and her brother vanished- support for her grandmother began running thin. At the reminder her grandmother's face fell a bit.

"Ask his apprentice what he wants. Do not speak to that abomination directly," her grandmother's scorn was gone as soon as it came, "But that boy is an absolute dear, I happen to quite like him. Make sure you talk to him about medicine. Not that defilement of magic." Her grandmother smiled, pleased with her orders, leaving Hiyori to only nod dumbly.

Despite the rumors, Hiyori brought her jar of savings to the flower shop the next day. Somehow her grandmother knew the apprentice had Sundays off from his errands, and that he preferred to spend them here. She sat across the cobblestone street and waited. Not knowing what the apprentice actually looked like, Hiyori figured she would know a magic-student when she saw them. Suddenly a cart crossed in front of her, two boys pushing the pots of plants as they talked.

"Thanks for helping on your day off, we had to move these out of the church yard to make room for more graves," the one with brown hair said.

"It's not a problem! That guy has been nose-deep in making a new chapter in his crazy, infinite spell book so he hardly noticed me slinking off. Besides, it's my day off!" A blonde boy beamed at his friend and Hiyori nearly dropped her jaw. She knew he was young but he was just barely a teen at all! On top of that he looked totally normal! Hiyori couldn't sense anything out of the ordinary with the blonde. Not one to mull over appearance, Hiyori stood and made her away across the street.

"Excuse me," Hiyori stopped them, she recognized the brown-haired man as the local priest but still looked to the blonde, "are you the apprentice?" She watched them share a glance before the boy looked her up and down.

"Who's asking?" he said as politely as possible. But there was something else. Out of the corner of her eye, Hiyori saw his shadow writhe along the ground for just a moment.

"This is Hiyori Iki," the priest, Kazuma, said. He nodded to her and Hiyori nodded back in greeting.

"She's the daughter of our town's late doctor," Kazuma explained to the kid before turning to her, "I'm guessing you're here for your grandmother?" His eyes dropped to the change jar in her hands along with the rest. Hiyori bit her lip and nodded, clutching the jar tightly as Kazuma continued.

"I'm sorry. Once I drop these off I'll go pay her a visit," he promised.

"Thank you very much," Hiyori bowed slightly.

"Please ask him to help her. As a favor from me," Kazuma said to the apprentice. The blonde looked her up and down, less guarded than before, and then nodded. They waved to the priest as he continued through town, then Hiyori was gestured to follow. No one speaked as they made their way to the country road, passing by Hiyori's house and heading up a large hill through the trees. As they got closer, the apprentice seemed to move more than necessary as he whispered to himself.

"May I ask for your name?" Hiyori asked, hoping some kindness would soothe her growing anxiety.

"Oh! It's Yukine," the apprentice said, "sorry about that." He looked genuinely apologetic for his rudeness. Hiyori smiled more broadly and waved it off.

"It's fine." They walked in silence for a little longer, Yukine's whispering growing silent but was replaced with him trying to look at her. She pretended to ignore both him and his shadow.

"Can I ask you something?" Yukine questioned. They stopped just before the tree line, Yukine was looking over his shoulder at her, the darkened trees behind him making his shadow darker than the night sky.

"Yes?" Hiyori forced her smile, never showing fear.

"Can you," Yukine faltered for a moment, "I mean does this forest seem off to you? Do I?" He looked nervous, if not hopeful. Hiyori breathed out sigh of relief when she understood, a smile becoming much easier to wear.

"If you're asking if I'm in tune with magic, the answer is yes! I don't know how to do anything special, I just see the other creatures," Hiyori explained. She pointed over her head to a fairy floating over them, waving when the tiny lady cooed.

"Oh," Yukine turned around, completely relieved, "then my familiar can come out!" The apprentice didn't wait for a response. His shadow wiggled and shrunk in on itself, forming into a tight form that raised off the ground.

"This is Suzuha," Yukine bent down to pet the shadowy black cat that now wove around his feet.

"A familiar!" Hiyori gushed. She never saw one but this cat was definitely not of this world.

"Yeah he turns into his human form at night. I just didn't want you to be surprised," Yukine spoke much freer than before, happily strolling up the hill of dark thorny trees. Hiyori hung onto her calm as much as she could. Looking up, Hiyori saw the sunny sky had turned to night.

She was led through a stone wall and metal gate, the house in front of her a small cottage with a red roof. Planted on both sides were giant sakura trees, somehow in bloom. Yukine and Suzuha trotted up to the door. The moment they stepped on the entrance rug, the door opened to show a woman. Hiyori gasped at her beauty, she was petite with porcelain skin that blended into her white dress. Even with her covered head to toe, her black hair and black eyes stood out.

"Hi Nora!" Yukine greeted. The woman looked at him blankly for a moment before fixing her dead eyes on Hiyori. Was she the magus?

"This is a client for Yato," Yukine explained. Nora nodded and silently stepped aside, holding the door open for the other two to walk in. The house was perfectly neat and orderly, like it was cookie cut and ready to be sold. Hiyori bowed slightly in greeting, shocked when the short woman returned it.

"This is Nora, she's a banshee turned silky and somehow related to Yato? Also she's our live-in housekeeper." Yukine introduced. She turned to the side and pointed further into the house and down the hall at an open doorway on the right.

"Yato's in there? Okay thank you," Yukine turned to Hiyori, "You can follow Suzuha to the sitting room. Nora will make tea?" Yukine looked at her while she narrowed her eyes for a moment. He laughed awkwardly and let out a 'please' before she nodded. Hiyori tried to resist but the cat was already nudging her towards a living room. Yato must be the magus's name.

"Sorry about that, I wanted to let Yato know you were here. And put my coat away," Yukine explained when he came back. With his green parka away, Hiyori saw he was wearing a simple tee shirt and jeans.

"It's no trouble," Hiyori said, thanking Nora when tea was placed in front of them on fine china.

"So what's your request?" Yukine asked. Hiyori explained her grandmother's sickness, her symptoms and the types of medicine that worked best. While she was doing this, Yukine was nodding along while sparing glances at the hallway, clearly waiting for someone. He continued this even when making small talk after the request, Suzuha taking turns on both their laps. Hiyori flinched when the sound of a broken glass was heard and Yukine angrily stood.

"'Scuse me," he said, then marched down the hall. One-sided yelling echoed down the hall and Hiyori couldn't help but stand up. She krept down the seemingly normal hallway of the magus, almost reaching the door before Nora appeared out of nowhere and held a hand up.

"Is it dangerous?" Hiyori whispered to the woman. Only her eyes moved to look into the room, then back to Hiyori as she nodded.

"Her grandmother is sick you sweaty freak! Just put the- book- down for one damn second!" Yukine was hollering. There was an array of colored lighting flashing from inside the doorway and Hiyori could hear the swooshing and whooshing of air being moved unnaturally. Nora turned and knocked on the doorframe once, twice and Yukine's yelling seemed to stop. There was some whispering before Yukine's blonde hair popped out.

"Sorry. Just one more minute please," he forced a smile then disappeared back into the room. Hiyori felt herself clench at the thought of seeing such a 'defilement' as her grandmother put it. She snapped out of it when Nora was waving at her. The house seemed to grow quiet as she stepped forward and peaked into the room of the magus.

It was a pigsty! Clearly Nora was not allowed in this room because the array of various tables and stacks of books were in complete disarray! The shelves lining the room had various plants and creatures trapped between glass containers and various knick-knacks that she doubted were magic. Things of similar nature were even hung from the ceiling by thin rope, over top of a floor covered in scattered papers.

A normal-looking man trampled over them as he weaved around the objects, Yukine following after him like a nagging housewife. Unlike Yukine's normal clothing, this man wore a full-on black cloak with baggy sleeves and a single black glove. His hair was long and pitch black, it writhed in the air like fire as an invisible wind blew through it and a hovering book. He even had things floating after him, disintegrating into a large flask and mixing itself. The glass was brought in front of his face for a moment before he waved his finger and commanded a quill to write things down in the book.

"Hello?" Yukine bagered, "Customer? Job? You were supposed to be out there a while ago!" He didn't miss a beat when the magus crawled up on a table to reach something on a top shelf and knock over a towering pile of books. More things fell to the floor but didn't shatter, Yukine stopping them midair by frantically putting out his palm.

"She's here!" he hollard. The magus froze and so did his floating items, he very slowly looked over his shoulder. Air escaped her lungs when Hiyori became transfixed in eyes that definitely were not human. They were a crystal clear blue that glowed around a slitted pupil. The whites of his eyes were a light charcoal color the same color magic that surrounded his body.

"I told you," Yukine growled. The magus let his apprentice yank him off the table and shove him to Hiyori. She couldn't help but step back, even when he smiled with kanines that were too sharp, the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. There was something off about him, his presence, his existence. It felt wrong to her. His magic dissipated along with the dark-color of his eyes in a blink of an eye.

"So that old bat is sick, huh?" Yato said with hands on his hips. She flinched along with Yukine, clearly the hatred with her grandmother was not one-sided.

"Yes. I have money," Hiyori showed him the jar, shaking the coins. The noise caught his attention and he looked at it.

"Tell ya what, I'll take this little coin here and let Yukine go take a peak." Yato pulled out an inexpensive coin and rolled it over his fingers before it disappeared like some cheap magic trick.

"Me?" Yukine spluttered. He came forward to look up at his mentor with big eyes, biting his lower lip to show nervous eagerness.

"Yes you!" Yato beamed down at the kid, "This is a perfect job for you to do on your own! Besides, you're the one who wants to specialize in healing stuff." He waved off the two and gestured for his book to float towards him. Hiyori smiled slightly at the kid's obvious excitement then looked nervously at the back of Yato's head.

"What about payment?"

"We can discuss that once we figure out what we need to do." Black magic started to rise off Yato signaling the end of the conversation. Hiyori took one last look at the magus as Yukine excitedly tugged her out the door. Despite the rumors he looked not much older than her.

By the time they left her grandmother's house the sun was starting to go down. Yukine had been so kind to her grandmother, sitting down to talk to her about more than just her illness while he examined her. Her grandmother loved the company, asking Yukine a lot of questions about his life as a magus's apprentice. The air was light when they left, Yukine promising to walk Hiyori home when they were done discussing payment. However, Yukine was quiet on the way home. He walked with his hands in his coat pockets, hardly answering Hiyori's attempts at a conversation.

"So what did you find?" Hiyori stopped beating around the bush.

"Oh, uh," Yukine thought for a moment, "it's not a curse or anything magic like that." He flashed her a smile then quickly looked at the ground. Before Hiyori could press the issue, something manifested next to her and tapped her shoulder. Hiyori jumped back with a squeal.

"It's okay! It's just me, Suzuha!" The boy looked to be Yukine's age with straight black hair and cat-like hazel eyes. Hiyori sighed and gave him a smile, it was sun-down after all. Yukine lightly scowled his familiar who teased him back, then silence befell them again.

"Umm?" Hiyori tried again.

"There's not much we can do," Suzuha hummed with his hands behind his head.

"What?" Hiyori gasped.

"Suzuha!" Yukine chastised, whirling on his familiar who maintained his grin. Yukine glared as the cat-boy just shrugged then waved at Hiyori's nervous expression.

"We don't know that! It's just out of mine and Suzuha's knowledge," Yukine explained hastily. Stepping up the cheer, Yukine decided Nora would make them macaroons as they walked under the magic star-filled sky.

Nora was at the door to greet them again, face as stoic as ever. Yukine and Suzuha greet her as always, Hiyori giving her a better smile than before. Lights still flashed from the doorway ahead of them, just less than before. The noises however, were no longer wind but a low growling.

"Sounds like he's still in there," Suzuha comments as he strolled to the living room. Yukine stayed by Hiyori and eyed the doorway with minor hesitation.

"Is it safe?" He asked Nora. She looked down the hall and held up a finger, walking to knock on the frame again and enter the room. She poked her head out after a moment and pointed at Yukine. He told Hiyori to go and sit before making his way into the room. There was a heavy weight in the air and in her stomach as Hiyori sat with Suzuha and sipped on more tea.

"He wants to talk to you," Yukine came into the room, "alone." He didn't look too bothered by the idea but he picked up on Hiyori's discomfort.

"Don't worry. He's not dangerous but his magic is. That's why I made him put it all away to speak with you," Yukine looked proud of himself and Hiyori huffed a laugh as she stood. Nora led her down the hall again, letting Hiyori step into the room before the door was closed.

The room was much more calm than before. Yato still stood with his back to her, neck bent over a book while he skimmed over pages. He held up a finger before she could say anything, still mumbling to himself. Then Yato turned around with the same grin, hands placed on the table so he could recline.

"You're grandmother is not sick," Yato paused to gauge her reaction, "she's dying naturally." His statement hung in the air between them like she was the one put to death. Hiyori clenched her hands while her mouth opened and closed worthlessly. It hurt to hear, but somewhere deep down she knew. Knew there was a reason her grandmother grew weaker despite the array of medicine. But still, sorrow stung her heart as her lips quivered.

"So there's," Hiyori couldn't keep the anger lacing her voice, "nothing you can do?"

"I never said that," Yato shrugged. Scowling at her hopeful expression, Yato looked at the floor.

"I know some necromancy, but since that comes at the cost of another person I can assume you don't want that. I can also make her a familiar or a fae, but I can't guarantee she'll still be the same person you knew. The easiest way to keep her here with you is to make her a wand. Of course all these have consequences too." Yato counted on his fingers the possible "solutions" but the young woman's sinking expression told him that none of this is what he wanted to hear. He waved over a box of tissues when he heard her sniffle.

"There's really nothing that can be done?" Hiyori quivered. She took a tissue and Yato let her clean her face.

"Making her a staff would keep her spirit with you, while still letting her soul pass on. Like having her blessing." He frowned at her crying face, stepping closer to rub her arms up and down while keeping his distance. To his surprise, she didn't flinch or back away.

After she calmed down, Yato offered her a bed or some tea. Hiyori refused and let Nora lead her and Yukine out the door, Suzuha tiredly hiding in their shadows as they walked. Her grandmother was still awake when she got home, smiling in a sad way. It made sense she was able to sense her natural end. Hiyori sobbed that night, her grandmother petting her head and telling her it was an honor to be made a staff.

Her grandmother's death was still a decent way away, according to Suzuha who tapped on her window in the middle of the next night, so Hiyori spent as much time at home as she could. Another four days went by and her grandmother mentioned she should ask the magus how she should obtain a staff and what payment it would cost.

"Hiyori, you're here!" Yukine didn't hide his joy at seeing her, but he still gave his honest condolences. She was led back into the living room and was surprised to see Yato there in his robe and some pajama pants, lounging on the couch. He gave a questioned quirk of the eye-brow and waited for her to gather her thoughts.

"We decided on the staff." Hiyori stated.

"A magic staff?" Yukine parroted, looking between them.

"This solution only works because they both have a strong connection to our world," Yato explained as he gestured to them to sit. Yukine sat next to his mentor, drinking in the exception to the rule. Hiyori sat across from them with the same jar of coins on her lap.

"How does it work exactly? And what about payment?" Hiyori asked.

"First we will need to preserve a lock of her hair. Then once she dies we need to bury her with a tree seed. Once that tree grows- which I can move along- we will use its wood to carve the staff and infuse it with her hair. I'll do a little bit of magic, you'll do some chanting, and voila! She will be with you always. In spirit," Yato spoke so nonchalantly. Like people came to him wanting to save their loved ones all the time.

"Payment," Hiyori repeated through gritted teeth.

"For as long as you're in possession of your grandmother's staff," Yato grinned, "you will be my wife!" With his hands raised, Yato's eyes sparkled when he presented his price. There was a moment of stunned silence before Yukine squawked out in alarm. He berated the magus with a flurry of insults while Nora nonchalantly set down tea. Hiyori felt heat rise from her toes to the top of her head.

A wife? His wife? The wife to the magus? Sure it's not like she was seeing anyone or had any one in mind. But still! Wasn't he, like, centuries old? And who was he to just decide her grandmother was worth her hand? What kind of proposal was this anyway?

"Yato! What is wrong with you? You're wife? You're just gonna marry her? Some random girl off the streets? No offense," Yukine was fuming with a blush while Hiyori fought her own.

"I'll do it. Whatever it takes," Hiyori looked up from her clenched fists to the magus, "I'll be your bride." The room was on pause once again as Yukine and Suzuha looked to her with gobsmacked expressions while Yato's grin grew wider.

"Yato!" Yukine grabbed the magus by the collar and shook him while he shrugged. Looking over at the young woman, and her crestfallen expression, Yato's teasing dropped a little.

"You know, I won't take the payment until after it's done," Yato said. Hiyori nodded and stood silently, announcing she will take her leave to spend her remaining days with the last family she has.

Unfortunately the two weeks until winter were not without the magus in her life. Apparently the job of an apprentice included delivering flowers and chocolates to your forced-fiance. Hiyori greeted Yukine at the door every time, her smile becoming smaller and smaller each time he invited her in. The gifts got smaller too, after Hiyori's agitated request.

"I'm so sorry he just was copying what little he's seen around town. He tends to go to the extreme but he really means well," Yukine said as he tried to fit a cupcake next to the chocolates in the fridge. Hiyori just sighed, she didn't know if she could handle a guy that was so clueless and excessive.

"You seem to know him well. You like him," Hiyori stated. Yukine flinched and a blush spread across his face.

"Yeah, well he's just awkward," Yukine huffed then looked at Hiyori, "I think it's time we ask for her hair, Hiyori."

The funeral came suddenly, on the day of the first snow barely four days later. Hiyori was the only family member there, her brother being out of reach for quite some time, but most of the town showed up. Kazuma led the gathering, Yukine and Suzuha using Yato's flowers as decoration. The magus stood far away, just outside the cemetery gate, ready and waiting to take her back to his house. It was a secret from everyone else that the woman being lowered into the ground was an illusion spell from the magus. The old woman's real body was buried at the bottom of the hill with a tree already sprouting.

Yato, Yukine, and Suzuha walked her back to the house after it was over, her home no longer relevant. Stopping at the tree, Yato said he would be working on it for a couple hours while the boys took Hiyori to get settled. All her things had been teleported into a room that would be hers and Nora was drawing her a bath. Hiyori numbly looked around her new room, surprised by how nice it looked. Normal compared to the other rooms. Her dresser was filled with double the clothes she owned before, expensive articles including her own. There were even a couple nicely kept potted plants to add some color.

"He wants you to be comfortable," Suzuha said from the windowsill.

"But why?" Hiyori looked to the cat, "And why does he want a wife?"

"Can't tell you. Why don't you ask him?"

"Ask him? Just like that?"

"Why not? You are his fiance," the cat shrugged. It made sense but Hiyori still grimaced. It wasn't that the magus was unapproachable, the opposite, he was very welcoming and offered Hiyori everything and anything, giving her space to adjust.

"What about Yukine?" Hiyori asked.

"Studying. You shouldn't bother him, especially since you're human." Suzuha curled in on himself in the sunlight, signalling the end of the conversation. Quietly padding down the hall, Hiyori peaked into Yukine's bedroom across from hers to see him bent over a desk, mumbling to himself. He looked like his mentor so Hiyori doubted she would be able to get his attention.

"Nora," Hiyori greeted the fae in the kitchen, "where's, uh, where's Yato?" If Nora noticed Hiyori's embarrassment she didn't comment. The silky looked through the doorway to the living room then back at Hiyori.

"Thank you." Hiyori walked into the living room to see Yato on the couch with an array of fabric rolled out along the table and chairs.

"Good afternoon, Hiyori," Yato smiled, "are you settling in well?"

"Yes, thank you." She took a seat on the couch and looked at his hands as he hand-sewed some red fabric.

"Uh, what are you doing?" Hiyori asked. Yato looked up from his work with a puzzled expression.

"I'm finishing up your clothes."

"You made those?" Hiyori's yelp startled the magus and he suddenly looked guilty.

"Well you can't conjure your own clothes. I mean they are useful gifts- unlike the flowers- and they're less over-the-top? Is it too much again?" He sounded so unsure Hiyori couldn't help but pity him. And smile at his adorable naivete.

"They're very nice, thank you. I'm just surprised you made them by hand," Hiyori looked down at his hand, "literally." She watched Yato's wide-eyes flicker from her own to the needle in his hand and back to her. Then he laughed, an echoey sort of sound but jovial nonetheless, it surprised Hiyori before she laughed too.

"Do you like the color?" Yato asked like a child.

"Yes," Hiyori giggled. They fell into comfortable silence as he worked, explaining what he was doing now and again, as well as answering her questions. The coo-coo-clock ticked on over the fireplace.

"Why did you make a bride?" Hiyori finally asked, "Why do you want a wife?"

"It's complicated." Yato spoke after a moment, "It's not so much that I want a wife, not that I mind, it's more that I want a female caretaker for Yukine. A human roll model that was a part of the family but could still understand our world." Yato explained.

"For Yukine?" Hiyori breathed. Sure, she liked the kid. Her and Yukine got along great and she could really see him as a good friend or even a little brother. Of course Yato didn't say mother, not at all, but something still didn't fit.

"Why- do you think he needs," Hiyori tapered off, but Yato still understood.

"Yukine used to be human. In fact he was like you, inclined towards the supernatural. When I found him he had given up on humanity, given up on himself, he was already on the verge of death. I saw a small hint of myself in him so I offered to save him. I offered him similar things I offered you. He asked if I would stay with him, stay by his side forever, so that's what I did." Yato put down his project and held up his gloved hand, pulling it off to show a blacked hand and wrist. Hiyori gasped.

"I gave him a chunk of myself to grant him immortality and magic. I brought him back to life and bound him to me. It took some time but he was happy, learning and living with me and Nora, but was clear he wasn't fulfilled. I don't think it's that he misses his humanity, but it's clear he still mourns what the humans have. What he never had," Yato looked up at her, "I want to give him that. A family."

"Yukine is happy with you," Hiyori smiled fondly. Yato sputtered with a red face and picked up the clothes, yelping when he pricked himself.

"Yeah, well, even I'm not so socially inept that I think I can replace a woman's warmth," Yato's tone fell, "he's a sweet kid and deserves to rely on someone warmer. Softer." He refused to look at her while she thought, warmth spreading through their bodies.

"What about you?" Hiyori asked.

"Me?"

"Do you want a family?"

"I was- never really- conditioned to the thought. I'm not human so I never had that instinct. But, uh, I like how things are," Yato grinned back at her, "not that I would be opposed to having a pretty human like you around to care for me." He flashed her a cheesy wink that had Hiyori giggling through her blush.

"What about you? Don't human women start working towards that white-picket fence around now?" Yato's question was one Hiyori fielded a lot. Normally it bothered her but the way Yato asked, with such clear ignorance and honest curiosity, she couldn't help but take the question seriously.

"I always had my family, my grandmother in particular. The idea of being a mother or a wife was just something I assumed would happen one day? I didn't plan for it but I was never against the idea," Hiyori beamed at the magus, "I honestly never thought it would turn out like this, but now that I understand, it's the best I could have hoped for!" Her seneier answer added a splash of red to Yato's cheeks, his wide-eyes stared at her for a moment as they flickered with emotion and magic. Then he scoffed out a laugh and Hiyori found herself smiling.

They sat in comfortable silence again and Hiyori finally berated the damn-full of questions Hiyori had about his world, her family's interest. He avoided questions about himself but would go into extreme detail about everything and anything that wasn't dangerous for a human to know, especially about Yukine. Now and again, he would ask her questions too, about her life. He even promised to try and find her missing brother, who went on some magic exhibition and was never heard from again. As Hiyori tried on another vintage-looking dress, Hiyori decided to tease him back.

"Yukine was right, you really don't get out much," Hiyori snickered at his objections, "guess I'll just have to be your teacher too." Looking over her shoulder, she saw Yato staring up at her with pins clenched between his teeth. He suddenly dropped the hem of her dress and walked to the other end of the room. Mood gone, Hiyori sucked in a gasp, worried she had offended the magus.

She couldn't force any words out of her mouth as he opened the drawer to a cheveret. Yato walked back over, his footsteps making no sound, and showed her his closed fist. Something pink and glittery caught her eye and Hiyori identified it as a necklace. The chain was silver along with the small branch of a sakura tree that hung horizontal. On it we're beautiful pink blossoms who's color seems to swirl around itself. Dark pink anthers that stood from the center of each floor moved like they were alive, winking in and out like sparkles off of a diamond. The entire thing was so detailed, like he took a silver branch of the tree outside and strunk it down.

"It's beautiful. Is it for me?" Hiyori breathed. She looked up to see Yato nod.

"I know it's human custom to give a ring, but I thought I'd add my own personal touch. Since this marriage isn't exactly commonplace," Yato said. Taking it out of his hand, he wrapped the ends of the chain around her neck, slowly and gently, like she was being hugged by a ghost. She felt his gloved hand move her hair a little as he clasped it, causing her to shiver. This was the closest she's ever stood to her fiance.

"It's magic, obviously. The chain can't be broken by anything and it can only be removed by hand, by the people in this house. It will protect you," Yato explained, "also, I thought you might try to run away after you got your staff so this necklace will always tell me where you are." Yato dropped his hands after it was secure, the branch falling just under her collar bones, light and warm. The magus didn't step away and Hiyori didn't want him to.

"Thank you," Hiyori said, then looking up at him, "I won't run away from you. Or Yukine." Hiyori watched his blue eyes shimmer again, this time with the telltale sign of hope and suffering. She didn't realize it until he flinched, but she grabbed his hands, her fingers curling into his while she spoke. One hand was significantly warmer than the other, but they were both cold. Especially compared to the small smile Yato now wore.

"I appreciate that, Hiyori. And I'll be using these measurements for your wedding dress." His laugher once again rang through the home as Hiyori shrieked and chased him, angry with embarrassment. Nora and Yukine both had to poke their heads in and tell them to quiet down already.

Her grandmother's tree was ready to take from by the time spring rolled around. She had grown into a willow tree, with pink and white blossoms that rivaled Yato's sakuras. Yukine helped Hiyori with the process, instructing her on how to carve it as that was only something she could do, then healing the branch's stump. They let Yato weave in the hair fibers, it's addition causing the wood to become a light grey. It came up to her waist, the top of it curving into a small bird for her namesake. Much to everyone's embarrassment, Hiyori selected blue orbs for the eyes.

Her wedding to the magus on the hill was held shortly after. Hiyori waited impatiently in her room for Nora to bring up her dress. Yato stubbornly denied the custom of the groom not seeing the dress and instead refused for Hiyori to even take a peek; going as far as placing it in a pocket dimension when she tried to snoop for it. She also hasn't seen her fiance, or Yukine, since last night. The apprentice opted to help his mentor prepare while leaving his familiar to set up the altar under the willow tree.

"Come in!" Hiyori answered to a knock, rushing over to open the door anyway. Nora stood there with the dress in her arms, a small smile gracing her features. It was beautiful, sewn flowers lining the straps and the sweet-heart neckline. The flowers would bunch around her midsection, then branch out along the rest of the dress. It would hug her curves before flaring out slightly into layers, ending in lace with it's flowers tipped with pink.

Giddy, Hiyori got settled in the vanity chair while Nora neatly laid the dress neatly on the bed. The silky came over and got to work on her hair, brushing it neatly while Hiyori tried to probe answers. Nora was tightly lipped and impossible to read, but their growing friendship let Hiyori get a couple of nods or shakes of the head here and there. Next came her make-up, which Nora used some magic to make it absolutely perfect.

"Thank you so much, Nora." Hiyori said. Putting the dress on, Hiyori was happy to see it fit her like a glove, practically moving to form her body then settling like a second skin. The more time she spent here in this house, with this odd family, the more at home Hiyori felt. Once the purpose of this union was cleared up and she got to know her fiance better, Hiyori was content with this outcome. Almost looking forward to being a part of another family that understood her.

"We're ready," Suzuha knocked on the door.

"Okay!" Hiyori smoothed out the ruffles and slipped on matching flats and long gloves. At the door, Nora's smile was still on as she opened the door to reveal Suzuha in a black tux. He flashed a sharp grin and held out his elbow.

"Milady," Suzuha bowed to Nora, "mi-flower-lady." He waited for Hiyori to grab her grandmother's staff, then lead her out the door. Nora disappeared but Hiyori figured she would beat them there.

"You excited?" Suzuha spoke as they walked down the hill under the starry-sky.

"Yes," Hiyori answered honestly. She squeezed the boy's arm tight as the pink willow came into view. Nora stood at the front of the tree, this time in a soft pink dress with red accents. She pulled back the branches and walked through just as Hiyori reached her. Hiyori followed the silky as she threw the flowers of her grandmother's tree on the fresh grass. When the silky moved aside at the end of the isle Hiyori was greeted with a breathtaking scene.

Her grandmother's branches were hung with white fabric streamers and glass orbs of fireflies. Two long white ribbons of tulle stretched from where Hiyori stood to the altar, held down with bunches of pink and purple flowers. At the end of the aisle, Kazuma stood behind a small wooden altar in his black priest outfit. To his left stood Yukine in a magus cloak identical to his mentor's and a red pillow with rings.

Across from him stood Yato, his black cloak buttoned over top of black trousers. His hair was combed back into a high pony-tail and his blue eyes never left hers. There was no music, instead the sound of crickets and chattering fairies came from just behind the curtain of flowers. Suddenly self-conscious, Hiyori looked down at the staff in her hands as she made her way to stand in front of the magus. Brown eyes kept flickering up to steady blue ones as Kazuma announced the matrimony to the supernaturals. She smiled at Yukine when he came to hand them the rings, catching his pure excitement.

Finally, Yato used his naked hand to bring up her own. His eyes finally dropped from her red face to watch as he slipped a silver ring onto her delicate finger. Quietly, Yato asked if she wanted to do his, or if he should just put it on. Much to everyone's happiness, Hiyori gave a bashful nod and slipped the band over his gloved hand.

"You may now, uh," Kazuma tapered off and looked confused between Yato and Hiyori. Yukine already jumped the gun and whirled around to hide his face while Suzuha peaked between his fingers.

"Don't worry, wifey," Yato gently lifted her hand in his glove, "we'll have plenty of time for that later." With a wink from magic eyes and a dangerous grin, the magus placed a kiss on her hand.

#noragami #noragami au #yatori #yatori week #yatori week 2020 #yato #hiyori #iki hiyori #Hiyori Iki #noragami fanfic #noragami fanfiction

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freudensteins-monster · 4 years

Text

Avengers Assemble

I finished this fic I started around June 2017 after seeing THIS POST for the first time.

Also posted over on AO3.

Tony was the first to notice that something was up with Darcy, though he didn’t understand what it meant at the time. He’d wandered out of his lab at a little after three in the morning and registered a humanoid shape curled up on the couch in Lab 7. A closer inspection revealed a mess of brown hair spilling out from under a purple coat, and he just figured Darcy had decided to crash at the tower after a long night sciencing with Jane and wanted to avoid a commute cutting into time better spent asleep. Not something she’d ever done before (she usually crashed on the couch in Jane and Thor’s apartment a few floors down) but he wasn’t exactly in a position to comment on other people's life choices, so just left her to it. Though he did place a wake up call with JARVIS on her behalf so she had a chance to get cleaned up before the first scientists showed up in a few hours. Never let it be said that he wasn’t a benevolent overlord.

Clint was the first to notice that something was terribly amiss, though it took him until he finished his first pot of coffee to figure it out. To be fair to the archer, he had only just stumbled out of bed following a solid twelve hour post-mission nap; people in comas slept lighter. Regardless, Natasha was going to kick his ass for being so off his game if she found out. ...when she found out.

He stared into the empty glass carafe pondering the futility of existence and why his coffee tasted off. True, he was no connoisseur and would drink anything as long as it was hot and black, or even lukewarm and black, but there was something off about this particular pot of coffee, a nagging feeling in the back of his mind that insisted that some key flavour profile was missing…

“Donuts,” he mumbled groggily, wandering around the kitchen island in sweats and a grubby t-shirt, scouring the countertops as if a large white box of cinnamon-covered goodness could somehow be hiding in plain sight. “JARVIS,” he called out when his thorough search failed to yield any donuts.

“Yes, Agent Barton?”

“It’s Friday, right?”

“Friday the 12th to be precise.”

“Huh…”

“Is everything alright, Agent Barton? Have you lost time? Should I call for medical assistance?”

“No, nothing like that JARVIS. But, um, did Darcy call out sick today?”

“Miss Lewis arrived at the tower at 12:16am this morning, and has been working at her desk since 7:53am.”

“What? Why?” Clint demanded.

“She did not tell me, and I had no grounds on which to ask. Her security clearance allows her access to Doctor Foster’s laboratory 24hrs a day.”

“Right…” Clint mused. It wasn’t implausible that Darcy was working weird hours, and yet… “Was Foster in the labs with Darcy all night?”

“Doctor Foster returned to her suite at a very reasonable 9:26pm and returned to the laboratory floor at 8:04am.”

Clint’s brow crinkled in thought as he waited for the carafe to refill, considering all possible reasons for the change in Darcy’s routine but, call him a pessimist, none of them were good. He worked through his second pot of coffee while he showered and dressed, returning the empty carafe to the kitchen before seeking Darcy out.

When he reached the lab floor and saw Darcy sitting in front of her computer, her heavy-handed makeup reminding him uncomfortably of his mother. He tried to ignore the coil of anxiety in his belly, smiling as he rapped his knuckles on the doorframe.

“Morning Darcy-Lou.”

Darcy flinched at his overly cheerful greeting and the coil in his gut snapped from the tension.

“Hey Clint,” she replied shakily, keeping her eyes glued to her screen. “What brings you up here?”

“Well, it’s Friday and I couldn’t help but notice a distinct lack of baked goods in the kitchen,” he teased, studying her every move.

“I didn’t have time,” Darcy snapped.

“Whoa, it’s cool,” Clint put his hands up in surrender. “You don’t owe us donuts, it’s just that it’s a break in your routine and it makes my spy senses go all tingly. Everything alright?” he asked kindly, noting the way she refused to meet his gaze.

“I’m fine,” Darcy replied with an edge of forced cheerfulness. Clint fake-smiled back.

“Alright, well, I can’t stop thinking about donuts so I’m going to head down to the bakery on the corner and grab a box. You want me to bring you back anything?”

“No, thanks. I’m fine,” she repeated absently, fixing her gaze back on her screen.

“See you ‘round, Darcy-Lou,” Clint waved as he headed to the bank of elevators. His smile faded away as the doors closed and he asked JARVIS to take him to the nearest Security office.

Jane was the first to get the truth from Darcy, if you didn’t count Clint reading their lips off the security feed.

“Shit!” Darcy muttered and threw her phone down in disgust.

The sound broke Jane’s train of thought. She blinked for the first time in twenty minutes and registered the complete and utter absence of background noise.

“Darcy…”

“Yeah?”

“You’re not playing music,” Jane, she of three degrees, finally noticed at 11am.

“Um, no. I’ve got a bit of a headache.”

“Then why aren’t you playing your ‘Super Chill’ playlist? You always play music.”

“I guess I didn't feel like it.”

“Are you sick?”

Jane rushed over and placed a hand on Darcy's forehead so forcibly it gave her assistant whiplash. Darcy tried to squirm out of Jane’s grasp and when the astrophysicist’s hand brushed against her cheek she winced.

“Darcy!”

“I’m fine, Jane,” Darcy swore, turning her bruised face away.

“You’re not fine,” Jane replied, twisting Darcy’s office chair around until she had to face her. “What happened?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Darcy grumbled stubbornly.

Jane knelt down in front of her best friend, clasping her hands tightly.

“Please tell me what happened, Darcy. Let me help you.”

“You can’t help…” Darcy started, tearing up.

“Are you sure? What about Thor? Or me, Thor, and a puppy?”

That got a watery chuckle. “I wouldn’t say no to a puppy.” Jane stayed where she was, eyes growing cartoonishly large as she implored her friend to open up. Darcy relented with a sigh. “You know how my roommate practically moved her boyfriend in without running it past me first?”

“I vaguely recall you complaining about him for three days straight last month.”

“Yeah, well, it hadn’t been too bad. I’m hardly ever there and when I am they pretty much stay holed up in her bedroom, so it’s been whatever. But my roommate has been away for most of the week for some work conference and has left her boyfriend behind unsupervised.”

“What did he do?” Jane asked, trying to keep her tone even and not let her imagination wander into dark corners.

“First he was just obnoxious, taking over the living room, playing Call of Duty until four in the morning, leaving empty takeout containers everywhere. And then…” she sniffled.

“And then…”

“He started hitting on me. Just straight up eggplant emoji level of subtlety, you know. I said no, obviously. Told him to back off or I’d tell his girlfriend. That seemed to work; he went back to inconsiderate roommate mode. But I didn’t want to be alone with him any more than I had to be so I called up some girlfriends from college and we went out for drinks last night. It was Ladies Night at my favourite bar; half price margaritas. And maybe I had too many drinks for a work night...”

“Darcy,” Jane interjected. “What happened when you got home?”

“He was still up playing Call of Duty. The second he saw me stumbling towards the kitchen for a glass of water he started circling me like a vulture. He got handsy, tried to herd me towards the couch.”

“Please tell me you tased him,” Jane begged.

To her relief Darcy nodded. “And then I just ran. The next thing I knew I was on the train headed for Manhattan so I came back here. I crashed on the couch and JARVIS woke me up when it was time to start work.”

Jane processed Darcy’s story, but there was a detail missing. “How did you get that bruise on your face, Darce?”

“He... kinda slapped me.”

“Kinda?”

“Well, he was trying to grab me, and then he was flailing about from 50,000 volts to the chest, and I was still within arms reach so I caught a fist to the face. It wasn’t like he punched me on purpose or anything.”

“No, of course not. He only tried to force himself on you while you were drunk.”

“Yeah, that,” Darcy sniffled miserably.

“Did you tell your roommate what happened? Is she going to kick him out?”

Darcy laughed, short and cold. “I hadn’t had a chance to tell her, but he must have called her last night as soon as he stopped twitching. I had a text waiting for me when I woke up saying she wanted me gone by the time she got back tomorrow. Apparently in his version of events my drunk ass hit on him and got violent when he, honest and faithful boyfriend that he is, turned me down.” Darcy to swipe irritably at her wet cheeks and blow her nose. “So I’ve spent all morning trying to find a new place, and the last hour texting this asshole, trying to get him the fuck out of the apartment so I can go get my stuff, but he’s demanding a face to face. Says he’s sorry and wants to apologise, but more likely he just wants to make sure I’m not going to correct his story. … I can’t be alone with him, Jane,” she cried anew.

“And you won’t have to be,” Jane swore handing her another tissue. Whatever she was going to say next was interrupted by her name flashing in large, bright blue letters on a holographic whiteboard on the other side of the lab.

JANE

TAKE DARCY TO LUNCH

WE’LL HANDLE IT

- CLINT

Jane quickly sent a grateful smile to the nearest security camera before turning her attention back to Darcy.

“Hey, how about we forget about that asshole for a couple of hours. We’ll grab something to eat then come back here and figure out a plan of attack, okay? I’m not going to let you do this alone,” she promised, standing up and offering up a rare hug that Darcy was all too happy to accept.

“Thanks, Janie.”

They grabbed their bags and headed for the elevator bank arm in arm. “So, where do you want to go for lunch?” Darcy asked.

“How about Sadelles? I think today calls for matzo ball soup like bubbe used to make.”

“And bagels.”

“And Bloody Marys.”

“And a double cheeseburger,” Darcy sighed hungrily.

“Whatever you want,” Jane laughed as the doors to Elevator 1 closed behind them.

A few floors away the doors to Elevator 2 opened onto the communal Avengers floor and Clint stepped out into a room full of antsy superheroes. Tony was seated at the nearest table sucking down on some radioactive looking smoothie while Steve, Bucky, Sam, and Thor were standing at half-assed attention awaiting orders.

“Since when are you calling Assembles?” Steve queried casually, not at all paranoid that he was being kept out of the loop on something important.

“Yeah, and since when do we do mission briefings in the breakfast nook?” Tony asked.

“Darcy needs our help,” Clint announced, pausing long enough for everyone to get the wrong idea.

“Where is she?” Thor boomed. “Is Jane with her?”

“Who’s got her?” Bucky demanded, already unsheathing one of the innumerable knives on his person.

“Whoa! Everyone, stand down. Jane and Darcy are fine. They’ve gone to lunch.”

The silence was deafening.

“So… they need help paying the tab? Because I’m pretty sure I already do that.” Tony snarked.

“No, listen,” Clint tried to explain over five riled up superjerks. “Long story short: Darcy’s roommate’s out of town, her boyfriend stayed behind and he’s been making Darcy uncomfortable, to say the least. Last night Darcy came home drunk and he tried to take advantage of the situation. She tasered him and came here.”

“Shit,” Tony mumbled. “I was wondering why I found her crashed out on the lab couch at 3am. I just thought she had Jane had pulled an all nighter or something.”

“Is she okay?” Steve asked.

“She’s mostly rattled, a little bruised, and by the time she gets back from lunch I think she’s going to move onto being plain furious. She wants to get the hell out of that apartment but the guy’s refusing to leave, practically holding her stuff hostage until she agrees to talk to him.”

“Like hell she’s going back there,” Sam swore. “What’s the address?”

Clint smiled as the rest of the assembled Avengers quickly got on the same page. Tony rose from his seat, tapping away on his phone.

“JARVIS has called up a couple of cars for you and plugged Darcy’s address into the GPS. One of the maintenance guys should meet you down there with some moving boxes.”

“You’re not coming?”

“I’m going to attack this from a different angle,” he replied cryptically, leading the way to the elevators.

Half an hour later two large black SUVs pulled up out the front of an apartment building in Brooklyn and 60% of the Avengers current lineup got out. They ignored the curious stares and frantic fumbling for phones going on around them and headed up to Darcy’s apartment, arguing amongst themselves about the best approach. In the end Sam, declaring himself the most normal human and least well-known of the group took the lead, insisting the others stay out of sight while he tried the two rational adults approach, where one of the adults totally doesn’t want to kick the other adult’s ass. It was not his most believable performance.

“Hey man, I’m Sam,” he greeted gruffly when the door finally opened, his intimidating-outside-of-the-Avengers arms crossed over his impressive-outside-of-the-Avengers chest. “Darcy sent me to pick up her stuff.”

The door was slammed in his face and Clint shoved his way to the front of the line.

“C’mon asshole,” he called, banging on the door. “Let us grab Darcy’s things and we’ll get out of your hair.”

The asshole in question yanked the door open and, not that he knew it at that moment, cursed out a couple of Avengers. “If the bitch wants her stuff back she can damn well come and get it herself and stop sending wannabe gym rats to do her dirty work.”

“Gym rats?” Clint’s much-broken nose tried to wrinkle in confusion.

“Enough of these games,” Thor growled, pushing Sam, Clint, and the door out of the way.

“What the hell!” the asshole squealed as broken shards of the door and a 7ft tall Norse god came at him with avengence..

“You dare to tarnish Lady Darcy’s honour? To lay your unworthy hands upon her?!” he roared, stopping just short of grabbing him by the throat and pinning him against the wall. Humans were rather fragile, or so he was often reminded.

“What… what… who?” the asshole stuttered, his mind on the fasttrack to a psychotic break as the rest of the Avengers followed Thor into the apartment.

“You hurt Darcy, we hurt you,” Bucky translated, taking up sentry duty by the broken door in case the asshole tried to make a run for it.

Sam and Steve glared at the asshole on their way to Darcy’s bedroom (Clint had pointed it out, having been there once before when he’d been bribed into help Darcy move in almost a year ago) while Clint headed for the kitchen. Thor thought the best use of his time was to remain looming over the guy until he wet himself.

“Ooh! Cranberry Kitchenaid. Definitely Darcy’s. She wouldn’t shut up about this thing,” Clint mused to himself as he boxed it, and all novelty baking and cookware items he could find, up.

Thor soon got bored and wandered around the small living area. “Does this belong to Lady Darcy?” he enquired, lifting up a three seater couch like it weighed nothing.

“Don’t think so.”

Thor dropped it from three feet up and took no small amount of pleasure in the way the asshole flinched.

“What the hell…” he muttered to himself several times before finding his voice. “What the hell are you doing in my apartment?!”

“1. Not your apartment. 2. We told you: we’re here to get Darcy’s stuff, since you were being an asshole about it.”

“But… you’re the Avengers.”

“Yeah, and we’re here to grab Darcy’s stuff and put the fear of Norse gods into you. Keep up,” Clint replied, turning his attention to the contents of the refrigerator now that he had collected everything from the kitchen cupboards that seemed like it belonged to Darcy (shot glasses from a bar in New Mexico, a Culver U coffee mug, a collection rainbow-handled utensils…).

“But you’re the Avengers.”

“…did you seriously not know that Lewis was besties with Thor? Lewis. Darcy Lewis,” Clint clarified when he received only a blank, stunned stare in reply. “Jesus H Christ… You’ve seriously never even had a conversation with her, have you?” Clint spat, abandoning his hastily assembled sandwich in disgust only to pick it back and continue eating; it wasn’t the sandwich’s fault.

“What about this television?” Thor asked, ripping the thing right out of the wall.

After a pointed moment Bucky voted, “Leave it. Stark’ll buy her a better one.”

“Everything okay out here?” Sam asked, regarding Thor’s attempt to remount the TV into the recently made hole in the wall with feigned disinterest.

“All good.”

“You gonna make yourself useful, Barnes?” Sam griped, dragging a suitcase crammed full of Darcy’s wardrobe contents towards the door.

“I am being useful,” Bucky countered, pulling a whetstone from his tac suit and glaring at the asshole as he slowly dragged his favourite knife across it.

“Real helpful,” Sam muttered, heading back to the bedroom.

Clint finished off his sandwich and had a quick look around the shared bathroom. He nabbed a few of the products that looked expensive and/or smelled like Darcy, but everything else looked easily replaceable. He added the bottles to his kitchen box and called out to the rest of the team, “We done yet?”

“Almost,” Steve called back, tossing another huge suitcase from the depths of the bedroom to Thor who caught it easily. He followed Sam out, carrying two boxes to Sam’s three, who was struggling under the weight of Darcy’s innumerable books and assorted knickknacks but refused to admit within earshot of Bucky that he needed help. Steve passed off his boxes to Bucky and indicated that the rest of the team should head out. Bucky grabbed the second suitcase and tucked it under his metal arm, beaming obnoxiously at Sam as he passed him in the hallway.

Steve meanwhile made his way over to where the asshole was still cowering against the wall. “I know it goes without saying, but I’m going to say it anyway: you contact Darcy again, you so much as breathe in her direction, I will have my friend Carol take you into outer space, except she doesn’t use a spaceship, and we see how long it takes for your head to explode. ...Got it?”

“Captain America is threatening me?”

Steve gave the asshole his patented USO smile, “Yeah, but no one would ever believe you.”

The asshole could only nod mutely as Steve Rogers, Captain fucking America, exited the apartment and closed what was left of the door behind him. Two seconds later his cell phone rang. He was still in shock and couldn’t remember answering it, but the next thing he knew his phone was on speaker and someone was addressing him.

“Is this the asshole currently trembling in Apartment 4C.”

“Uhhh…” the asshole’s brain flatlined as the man on the other end of the phone rattled off information that could only have been obtained through a very thorough background check.

“... the asshole whose Social Security Number is 498619842? The asshole who got busted for pot possession in 2015 and 2017? The guy who spent the night of his 15th birthday buying several porn subscriptions on his mother's credit card then let her think that some stranger had stolen it and racked up the charges?”

A very, very thorough background check.

“How…”

“This is Tony Stark. Just a courtesy call to let you know that I now own the apartment you’re currently squatting in. Actually, I own the whole building. And my people have already been in contact with your girlfriend and advised her of a little clause that I’ve added to the lease: if she wants to resign next month, you are not allowed to live with her - and I will know if she violates the terms of her lease. So that’ll be a fun conversation for you. But I’m sure you’ll be fine. I mean, what woman in her right mind would choose a cheap, rent controlled, fully renovated apartment in New York City over a cheating boyfriend slash burgeoning rapist?”

The call disconnected around the same time the asshole’s legs gave out and he became a puddle of terrified goo on the floor.

Darcy returned to the tower after an epic two hour lunch date with Jane feeling much better about the last twelve and a bit hours, and was ready to hand the asshole his ass. But with Jane coming back to the apartment with her after work, distracting him with the kind of vitriol she usually reserved for old white men who were tightfisted with university grant money, Darcy was confident she should be able to get in and out without too many hassles (or assault charges).

“82nd floor, if you please JARVIS,” Darcy instructed as they stepped into the elevator.

“If you’ll indulge me, Miss Lewis, I’ve been instructed to take you to the 54th floor.”

“That’s one of the residential floors,” Jane realised. “Isn’t that floor still under construction?”

Before JARVIS could answer the elevator doors opened to an impatient Tony Stark.

“Minions, follow me.”

“What’s going on, Tony?” Darcy demanded as her boss’s boss led them through a bare hallway painted base coat white.

“Heard you were in need of a place to crash, so I thought I’d give you an apartment.”

Before either of them could determine how much Tony knew, and how he knew it, he stopped in front of a seemingly random door and threw it open.

“Surprise!!”

“What the fuck!” Darcy shouted, not that she could hear herself over the carousing of half the Avengers line up. “What the fuck?” she repeated when the noise died down.

“Well, Clint here gave us a quick rundown of what happened - we’re glad you’re alright, by the way.”

“But how did you know?”

“Donuts,” Clint teased, earning confusing glances from everyone not in on the joke. “Well, donuts and security cameras.”

“Clint sent me a message on one of Tony’s hi tech whiteboards while I was talking to you,” Jane admitted. “He told me to take you to lunch but I had no idea they were going to do this.”

“But what is all this?”

“This is your stuff,” Clint grinned doing his best Vanna White at the small collection of boxes and suitcases.”

“We paid the scoundrel a visit he won’t soon forget and liberated your belongings so you needn’t see him again.”

“We pretty much cleaned out your bedroom, but left the furniture. Sam said it was all just IKEA stuff so it probably didn’t hold much sentimental value,” Steve explained.

“It didn’t,” Darcy assured him, almost moved to tears by their actions.

“So, I know this place looks pretty bleak right now, but I promise it’s liveable - water and power have been hooked up, and I’ve got a basic bed being delivered in the next hour or so you don’t have to sleep on the floor. And Pepper will be in touch sometime this afternoon to set up a meeting with her interior designer so you can Darcy it up however you like on my dime. Aaaand you look like you’re going to hug me so I’m going to leave now.”

Darcy laughed at Tony’s retreating back before redirecting her attention and affection on the rest of her personal heroes. “Thank you guys so much. I can’t even tell you how much this means to me.”

“You��re more than welcome, Darcy-Lou,” Clint replied, going in for a hug. He squeezed her tightly, pressing a kiss to her forehead before making way for the next guy in line.

“I’m glad you’re alright, Darcy. If we left anything important behind just let me know. I’d be happy to pay him another visit.”

“I’m sure you would, Cap. Thank you.”

Bucky shuffled forward. “Darcy.”

“Bucky.”

“We didn’t much like the idea of living you down here by yourself, so to make you feel a bit safer at night, or maybe not,” he mumbled, hiding behind his hair. “I’m gonna move down into the room across the hall. At least until they finish up on this floor and start getting other people in here.”

Darcy’s arms were thrown around his neck before he could finish.

“Thank you.”

Hug her back, you idiot, Sam mouthed, choking on his laughter when Bucky awkwardly patted her on the back. He pushed Bucky out of the way and showed him what a hug was supposed to look like. “And if you want to hit the clubs and you want some added security…” he proposed with a little shimmy that pulled a laugh from Darcy and Steve (Bucky just rolled his eyes).

“I know who to call.”

“We’ll leave you to it - and see you at dinner, right?” Sam called back as the three musketeers headed for the elevators.

“Absolutely!”

And then it was just Thor and Jane, both of them regarding her with kind smiles and sad eyes.

“I am sorry he harmed you, Darcy. One word from you and I will throw him in the deepest, darkest cell on Asgard until he rots.”

“Thanks big guy. But you’ve done more than enough.”

“So… what now?” Jane asked, reaching for Thor’s hand. “Did you want to come back down to the labs until your bed gets here?”

“I think I’ll check out my new digs for a bit. Maybe rummage through the boxes and see what the guys managed to grab for me and make a list of what I need to replace....”

“Are you sure you’re going to be alright?”

“I’m going to be fine, Janey,” Darcy replied, smiling to herself when it occurred to her just how true those words were. She was going to be fine.

[Post Credit Scene]

As it turned out, Tony’s idea of a “basic” bed was a king sized mattress and base - which none of Darcy’s current bedding fit.

Pepper and her favourite interior designer had been and gone, dinner was another hour away, and Darcy was doing her best to make up her new bed regardless of her ill fitting sheets, figuring if worse came to worst she’d just roll herself up like a burrito, when there was a knock at her new front door.

“Nat! When did you get in?”

“About two hours ago,” she replied, pushing past Darcy with a moving box balanced on her hip. “Clint told me what happened.”

“Oh no,” Darcy sighed, eying the box warily. “What did you do? Is he…you know...”

“Still breathing? Still in possession of all his limbs and both his testicles?”

“Yeah, those things.”

“Reluctantly. You could have called me,” she added quietly.

“You were on a mission,” Darcy shrugged. “And I kind of wanted to pretend it didn’t happen.”

“Well, thank goodness Clint knows when to leave well alone and when to go at a problem like a dog with a bone.”

“You taught him well,” Darcy teased, which earned a small snort of amusement from the Black Widow. “Now, not to sound like Brad Pitt but what’s in the box?”

Natasha did a little drumroll on the lid of the box before pulling back the flaps. “I have… every roll of toilet paper in the apartment and half a dozen shoelaces - one from every pair of shoes he owns.”

“Is that all? Not that it’s not amazing,” she giggled. “But it seems kinda… small potatoes for a talented spysassin like yourself.”

“I may have also added a minced ghost pepper to his aftershave. And infected all of his devices with this special little virus that will crash his games just before he reaches a save point.”

“Oh my god, that’s devious! I love it!”

“You’re welcome,” she smirked. “And since that only took me like fifteen minutes after the world's shortest debriefing I had time to stop off on the way back for some of your favourite rotgut in case you were interested in a nightcap,” she announced, pulling a bottle of tequila from the box.

“Jose Cuervo isn’t not rotgut… But I’m kinda off the tequila at the moment,” Darcy admitted quietly.

“Well, luckily for you, I also picked up a bottle of my favourite rotgut,” she smiled, presenting Darcy with a bottle of unpronounceable, high proof vodka.

Darcy laughed and reached for the tacky shot glasses Clint had rescued from her old apartment and let Natasha do the honors.

“Hey, do you have any missions on the horizon?” Darcy spluttered after the first shot.

“Nothing planned, why?”

“Pepper’s interior designer reckons she can have my apartment fully painted and furnished by this time next week. I was thinking I might host a little family dinner. Sort of a housewarming slash thanks for having my back party? I’ll bake that coffee chocolate cake Clint loves and put in orders with like, four of the team's favourite takeout places...”

“I’m in. As long as I get to be on cocktails,” Nat said as she poured another round.

Darcy clinked their glasses together with a smile. “Deal.”

#avengers assemble #darcy lewis and the avengers #freudensteins-fics #darcy lewis #jane foster #clint barton #tony stark #thor #steve rogers #bucky barnes #sam wilson #natasha romanoff #mcu timeline? what mcu timeline?#mostly pre-ultron #(bruce is post-ultron)#bucky is a little more ca:cw #and i mention carol #so.... *shrug*

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thekatthatbarks · 4 years

Text

Chopped Vegetables

for @phyrric-victory2427

ao3

Sakura smiled at him when he walked into her office, her heart skipping a beat at the sight of the spiked ponytail. She leaned her chin on her palm and gave him a flirtatious look. “Here to take me to lunch, Shikamaru?”

He smiled back at her, his hands in his pockets and his cheeks warm. “Maybe. I have to ask you something first though.”

She raised an eyebrow and leaned back in her chair as he rounded her desk and leaned against the wood beside her. He looked away from her and Sakura watched curiously as his blush deepened. He rubbed the back of his neck. “My mom wants you to come over for dinner.”

Sakura’s lips parted in surprise and she felt her chest tighten anxiously. Her voice was quiet as she asked him uncertainly, “You told her about me?”

She couldn’t even put a name to what her and Shikamaru had been doing. They had been teetering on the edge of friendship and something else for the past few months. She didn’t know exactly when it started to turn into something else, but she thought it was probably after that mission they’d had over a year ago, one of her firsts after the war. Something had just clicked and once they were home, he invited her to dinner. One thing led to another, and they found themselves gravitating towards each other.

Sakura’s heart had started to race when his skin brushed hers. When he smiled softly, she felt herself biting her lip to keep her wide smile at bay. It was one day when he’d convinced her to come watch the clouds with him and she’d found herself tucked into his side that she realized she’d managed to fall in love with him.

Though they both knew what the inevitable was, neither of them had pushed things farther than a few flirtations and the heat of their hands as they lingered on each other.

So, Sakura was surprised to say the least. Though the fantasy warmed her heart, she couldn’t imagine Shikamaru going on about how much he loved her to his mother, so she was wondering how this came about.

Shikamaru shook his head and then shrugged, looking back to her with a small smile. “No, but maybe she wants to meet the person who keeps stealing all my time.”

Sakura bit her lip and glanced down at the papers on her desk. She felt like this was a big step for them and it made her more nervous than she wanted to admit.

Shikamaru shifted beside her, his voice hesitant. “You don’t have to come. But she wanted me to ask you.”

“No, I’ll come. I want to come.” Sakura smiled up at him, her heart out of rhythm in her chest. It scared her but she also felt some excitement about it. She knew Shikamaru wouldn’t have even asked her if he didn’t want her to go. She knew he thought it meant something, too. So, of course she would go.

Shikamaru nodded and she noticed the slight fraction that his shoulders relaxed by. Her smile became softer as he said, “My dad will be there too, so you won’t be left to my mom’s hands alone.”

Sakura chuckled and teased, “Is she as crazy as you’ve made her seem? Should I be worried?”

Shikamaru laughed softly. “Yes and no. She’s going to love you.”

***

Sakura felt Shikamaru’s arm fall from her waist and before she could panic – his touch was comforting and incredibly good at calming her racing heart down – he slipped his hand into hers and interlocked their fingers. He brushed his lips against her hair as they reached the door to his childhood home and whispered, “Don’t be nervous, Sakura.”

Sakura nodded and gave him a smile before he opened the door. He led her over the threshold and called out, “Mom! Dad! We’re here!”

Sakura slipped off her shoes with him as a woman walked down the hall to them.

“Mom – “

There were hands cupping her face as Yoshino smiled at her. “Oh, Sakura-chan! I haven’t seen you since you were small!” She looked over her and Sakura felt oddly embarrassed, but not necessarily in a bad way.

She smiled. “It’s nice to see you again, Nara-san. Thank you for inviting me to dinner.”

She scoffed and put a hand on her hip, waving with her other hand. “Call me Yoshino.” She glanced at Shikamaru. “You know, I’ve been trying to get Shika-kun to bring you by for weeks but he –“

“Mom.” Shikamaru sighed and then Shikaku rounded the corner. He sighed at seeing them. “Yoshino, are you really already badgering her at the door?”

She looked at him and rolled her eyes but stepped back. “I was only saying hello, Shikaku.”

Shikaku chuckled, watching his wife leave the hallway with a smile. He looked back to Sakura with a nod. “Welcome to our home, Sakura-chan.”

Sakura bowed her head with a smile. “Thank you for having me.”

Shikaku grinned at her and glanced at Shikamaru. “Well, Sakura-chan, do you want to watch an old man kick Shikamaru’s ass at his own game?”

Sakura snorted, her smile widening. “Yeah, I think that’d be fun.”

Shikamaru rolled his eyes next to her and mumbled, “Traitor.”

Shikaku laughed and jerked his head as he began to walk away. “I’ll be in the back whenever you’re ready, son.”

Once they were alone again, Sakura looked up at Shikamaru and he smiled down at her, his eyes softening. He told her quietly, “See? Not so bad.”

Sakura chuckled with a nod, her hand still in his as he led her to the back of the house.

***

Sakura almost felt like laying down to take a nap she felt so comfortable with the setting sun on her skin. She looked down at the wooden floor beneath her and wondered if Shikamaru had fallen asleep here watching the sun set over the Nara Forest in the distance. It made her smile and she looked over at him.

Even with how focused he was in his game with his father, he felt her eyes on him and glanced at her with a small smile. He raised an eyebrow at her in question and she shook her head, her eyes falling back to the board.

She’d played Shikamaru a few times and though he insisted she was one of the best people he’d played against, they’d never had a game like this. It was fun to watch them make snide remarks to each other, in their own world both dozens of steps ahead of what was happening in front of them.

Once they started the second game, Sakura stood up even as her heart beat uncomfortably with nerves. She touched Shikamaru’s shoulder as she bent down to tell him, “I’ll be back in a moment.”

He nodded, glancing at her curiously and she left the room, sending Shikaku a smile before closing the door.

Sakura found the kitchen easily. The house was big, but she could hear the sounds of water running and food sizzling in a pan.

Yoshino looked over at her in mild surprise as she walked through the door, a small smile on her face. “Sakura-chan, did you need something?”

Sakura shook her head and went towards her with a nervous smile. “No, I was wanting to know if you needed anything? I can help with dinner if you’d like.”

Yoshino chuckled and shook her head. “Sakura, you’re the guest.”

Sakura leaned her hip against the counter and cocked an eyebrow. “More reason to help then.”

Yoshino eyed her for a moment and then laughed softly with a shrug. “Okay.” She moved her to a cutting board and instructed her before moving back to whatever she had on the stove.

Sakura began chopping up the vegetables but when Yoshino looked over at her a moment later, she shook her head and stepped back towards her. “No, Sakura-chan, they need to be smaller.”

“Oh.” Sakura lifted her knife to go back over what she’d just done, a blush rising on her cheeks. Yoshino watched her for a moment and then nodded. “That’s better.”

After stirring the pot, she asked her, “Did your mother not ever teach you how to cook?”

Sakura cleared her throat, keeping her eyes on the cutting board. “No, she didn’t. She wasn’t really interested in… teaching me that.” Or anything for that matter.

Yoshino told her back quietly in a warm voice. “Well, I don’t mind.” When Sakura glanced at her, she sent her a smile which Sakura tentatively returned.

Sakura knew she had probably slowed Yoshino down more than she’d helped her as she realized all the different things she didn’t know how to do in the kitchen. But Yoshino didn’t seem to mind, and Sakura liked the warm content of the kitchen.

“The boys playing shoji?” Yoshino asked her at some point.

“Yes, I imagine they still are. They were on their second game when I came to see you.”

Yoshino shook her head with a sigh, but Sakura could see the fondness in her eyes. “You know, I’ve seen them sit out there for hours before.”

Sakura laughed as she dumped ingredients into a pot. “Must be why Shikamaru’s so good at it.”

“I have baby pictures of him in Shikaku’s lap watching him play with Inoichi.” Yoshino looked at her in exasperation and Sakura felt warmth grow in her chest as she smiled.

***

Sakura felt herself relax throughout dinner, Shikamaru’s hand on her thigh and her hand over his. Yoshino had apparently saved her arsenal of interrogation questions for the meal where she and Shikamaru couldn’t escape. But Sakura didn’t feel too nervous after being with the woman for an hour as they cooked.

“So, are you going to take over the hospital once Tsunade-sama leaves, Sakura-chan? I heard she was wanting to go back to her travels once Kakashi-sama settles more into the seat.”

“No, I enjoy being a shinobi and going out on missions.” Sakura looked to the side in thought. “It would be near impossible to do both, so I’ll remain a medic.”

Yoshino hummed in response, waiting for Sakura to take a few bites of her food before asking bluntly, “When did you start dating my son?”

Shikamaru almost choked on his water in the seat next to her and her anxiety at the question was lost to her amusement. She laughed softly and patted his hand underneath the table as he cleared his throat. “Mom.”

Yoshino scoffed as she leaned back in her chair, Shikaku smiling in amusement next to her. “What? Like we can’t see what’s going on between you. I just asked her a question, Shikamaru.”

Shikamaru sighed and glanced at Sakura with a shrug, leaving it up to her as he gave her a nervous smile. Her chest tightened in response and she subtly took a deep breath before turning to Yoshino. “A few months.” Shikamaru’s hand squeezed her thigh and Sakura threaded her fingers through his.

Yoshino’s eyes brightened and she smirked, turning to Shikaku. “Told you so. I win.”

Shikaku huffed and crossed his arms over his chest, waving a hand at Shikamaru. “Well, I had thought the boy hadn’t done anything about it yet.”

Yoshino chuckled and Shikamaru groaned, looking at his parents exasperated as his face became red. “You were betting on my love life?”

Sakura stifled a laugh as Yoshino told him, “I wouldn’t call it betting.”

***

Sakura sipped on her tea as she cooed at another picture. “Right in his lap, just like you said. He’s adorable.”

Yoshino snickered and pointed at another picture. Shikamaru groaned next to her, his head falling to her shoulder as he slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her closer to him. “Mom, do you really have to be so predictable?”

She shrugged and turned another page in the photo album, leaning against Sakura’s other shoulder on the couch. “Well, if I’m so predictable, then why are you upset?”

Shikamaru grumbled into her shoulder making Sakura laugh, sharing an amused look with Yoshino as they continued to look through Shikamaru’s baby pictures. Eventually, Sakura took pity on the mildly embarrassed man behind her and gave Yoshino an apologetic look. “I’d love to stay longer, but I have an early shift at the hospital in the morning.”

Yoshino nodded and they stood up from the couch. Shikaku glanced up from the chair he was sitting at where he’d been reading. He walked over to Sakura and put a hand on her shoulder, smiling down at her. “It was good having you, Sakura-chan. I hope to see you come by again.”

Sakura smiled. “I’ll definitely try to. I enjoyed visiting.”

Yoshino walked with them to the door, then surprised Sakura by pulling her into a hug. She whispered lowly near her ear, “Thank you for taking care of him.”

Sakura felt her skin heat as she pulled away, smiling shyly. Shikamaru’s hand slipped into hers and was tugging her towards the open door. She gave Yoshino a little wave. “I’ll come see you again soon, Yoshino-san.”

Yoshino smiled and closed the door as they left.

Shikamaru let out a long sigh as they walked. “That was exhausting.”

Sakura laughed. “It wasn’t too bad.”

He raised an eyebrow at her, a smile threatening on his lips. She felt more laughter bubble in her chest as she reached up and pinched his cheek. “You were so cute, Shika-kun.”

He blushed and hit her hand away. “Oh, shut up. I should’ve expected her to do that. Her and my father never miss a chance to embarrass me.”

Sakura chuckled and leaned into his side. They were quiet as they walked through the village. When they reached her apartment door, Shikamaru turned her around with his hand on her hip, her back pressing into the door. Her heart skipped a beat as she looked up at him to that sly smile of his.

He leaned down towards her as he spoke in a low voice, “You know since we’ve already been dating for a few months, don’t you think it’s a little odd we haven’t kissed yet? I mean I’ve already introduced you to my parents.”

Sakura bit her lip as she glanced from his eyes to his smile. “Yeah, guess we did things a little out of order.”

She felt her stomach flip in excitement as his hand reached up to her hold her face. His lips were a breath away from hers and Sakura felt her eyes flutter close as he asked, “Can I kiss you, Sakura?”

Sakura answered by snaking her arms up his chest to lock around his neck and pull him that inch closer. Shikamaru’s lips met hers and Sakura felt all remaining thought she had leave her as he kissed her. It was sweet and lasted shorter than she would have liked.

When he broke away from her, she felt her smile grow as she looked up at him with blushing cheeks. “I do expect you to take me on a real date soon, Shikamaru.”

He laughed and kissed her again, promising against her smile, “Yes ma’am.”

#2.5k #shikasaku #kat writes #fluff #meeting the parents #i hope you like it!

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saundraswriting · 4 years

Text

Need Some TLC Chapter 6: Gratitude

(I lied on the last chapter? I guess I had one more ready that needed formatted. Told you all I am freaking clueless.)

SUMMARY:You discover just how far these two men are willing to go for you. You wonder at your inability to portray your thanks, they seem to ignore your determination to be polite.

WARNINGS: None.

Masterlist // Previous // Next

Your eyes popped open, your alarm jarring you to full awareness. You got out of bed and made your way into your apartment, the event of the previous day fuzzy and vague. Until you saw the Blue Planet case on the coffee table.

"Cool. Cool. Yesterday happened, for real. Captain America and The White Wolf broke down my door, in an attempt to save my life. Sort of. Then we had lunch and Captain Rogers replaced said door." You spoke to yourself. "Jeez, those two men." Your tone of exasperation was undermined by the fond smile you had. The apartment was clean enough when you went to bed but it somehow felt more lived in and looked more clean. You shrugged it off as morning fog. "Whatever, breakfast time." You walked to the fridge and saw the note left on the fridge.

"What. What? What?! Groceries? Tony? Tony Stark?" You asked the note in your hand. When it didn't answer-as expected-you shook it and threw it on the counter. You wrenched open the fridge, freezer and pantry. All three were full to bursting with food that was most definitely not there last night. Both made and not, and packaged and not. You knew your mouth was gaping open like a fly trap but You could only blink in awe and confusion, your hands trembling. Your cupboards were full of someone else's time money and effort. The most anyone has every done for you.

'Go thank them you idiot! Be polite.' Your manners snarled at you. The thought hit you in the face. You twitched and raced across the hall.

"Sargent Barnes! Captain Rogers! Open this door. Right now." You knocked frantically. You had a second to be thankful for the lack of neighbors. "Captain! Sargent!" You knock again.

Steve throws the door open, eyes wide. "Y/N! what is wrong? Are you okay? Do you need help?" Steve questioned. You pushed your way inside, ignoring his questions and muttered invitation.

"Where is the Sargent?" You ask. You turned in a slow circle, gaze never settling-searching.

"I'm right here, doll. Everything okay?" Bucky came out of the bathroom in only sweats, leaving his Wakandian arm on display. He was wiping away the shaving cream on his face but missed a spot by his ear. You quickly moved on, not wanting to lose you determination.

"Is Mr. Stark here? I would like if he was." You kept searching, trying to squash your nerves.

"Yes, for exactly one minute. Who is asking?" A man you could only assume was Mr. Anthony Edward Stark came out of Steve's room, thumbing at his phone.

"My name is Y/F/N Y/L/N. I am a nurse at Mercy Hospital. Mr. Stark, I want to thank you for helping these two men dote on me last night. It wasn't needed at all. But I greatly appreciate it." You looked at the other two men in the room. "I woke up to a spotless apartment, and more food then I will eat in a month probably. I-No one has ever stepped up to help me. No one has ever surprised me before with anything, let alone groceries. Honestly, Life is overwhelming and my coping mechanism is to work and work and work, then when I take a breath, I am lost. I have absolutely no idea how to thank you." You paused to blink quickly and sniff. "I can only offer myself. If you need a person for anything, a medical emergency, or an extra player for game night, or a warm ear to ramble to, I will be there." You made eye contact with the Captain and Sargent. Your pause made Tony look up for a half a second. "My door is always open and my coffee pot is always ready." You grew embarrassed by your heartfelt declaration, fidgeting with your hands.

"My, dear. A friend of Frostbite's and Capsicle, is definitely a friend of mine. Now you are positive about refusing F.R.I.D.A.Y.?" Tony for the first time since he came out of Steve's room made full eye contact.

You waved your hands in front of you. "Mr. Stark, No. I am just a nurse. You have much bigger fish to fry than a nurse who doesn't know when to quit." You rejected his offer politely.

"Very well. But if I or they deem it necessary then you lose. They scare me more than you." Tony grinned and shot you a saucy wink. "Now, boys and girl, some of us have day jobs. Chao." Tony waved at the soldiers and headed out. Captain Rogers and Sargent Barnes shouted their goodbyes just as the door shut.

You and Sargent Barnes turn simultaneously to look at Captain Rogers who was looked over from where he was staring at the door. "No. Absolutely not. Drop it. He helped last night a lot. We talked a lot about the girl-across-the-hall and then I sent him to sleep in my bed. God only know when he saw on last." Captain Rogers tried to end the discussion before it began. He pointed a finger authoritatively before stalking towards the kitchen.

"Yes, dad." You and Sargent Barnes chorused. Captain Rogers began getting things around for breakfast. Sargent Barnes joining him.

"Y/N, any interest in joining us for brunch?" Sargent Barnes offered. Captain Rogers smiled and nodded in agreement. You looked around, the facts settling in causing you embarrassment and anxiety. You had just barged into their apartment after demanding them to let you in to thank them aggressively for being so caring and thoughtful.

"Um. No. I think this is my cue to go, Sargent. Captain, sorry to ruin your morning. I don't want to impose or over-stay my welcome." You shake your head. Sargent Barnes glances over at you from where he is putting plates at the kitchen island.

"Y/N, I though we talked about this. I am Bucky, James is you must. And he is Steve, Steven if you must. We are friends, family. You don't have to be so formal. Relax a little." Bucky reminded you. You nodded once a jerky motion. Bucky and Steve could see your growing uneasiness. The looked at each other, in their moment of distraction you took a slow measured step backwards. You pushed down the feeling that you were running away, you would rather avoid any confrontation about your impulsivity. One step turned into two and two turned into three. Finally you could feel your fingers brush the doorknob.

" Bucky stepped in front of you, wanting to squash any miscommunication. His broad bare chest took up your entire field of vision. You were eye level with his collarbones. His scent of sage, cedar and sandalwood made your mouth water. You forced your gaze up higher and higher past his neck and jaw and lips to lock onto his steel-blue eyes. You felt warm and flushed, obviously your extended exposure to these men was not helping you build immunity to their looks as you thought. Bucky's eyes twinkled with mischief and you hoped he didn't know what reactions he caused you. But you knew he probably had some awareness about it with his enhanced senses. 'Can he see my pupils dilate? can he hear my heartrate pick up? My breathing? Can he smell my arousal?'

"Doll, we did that stuff as a thank you and an assurance that you are taken care of. You make my nights better just by knowing you are around. You accepted having Captain America and the Winter Solider leaving across the hall from you without even batting an eye. You just welcomed us into your life like it was no big deal. You reminded us what it means to be normal, and that means the word to me. We-I wanted to do this because you are the most important person to me. Maybe except Stevie over there." Bucky was rubbing your upper arms like he couldn't help but touch you, to push his thoughts into you, make you hear him, understand him.

"But yesterday, you risked your life to save me. Neither of you had any idea the fire was small. Then you fixed my door. Then you decided to provide me with at least a month maybe even more than that worth of food. And you expect nothing in return? I owe you." You tried to argue. Bucky was shaking his head before you even finished.

"Nope. You think we would let you sleep through a fire alarm? That is ridiculous. You could barely walk that morning. The door thing was just manners. and providing for you? That is just to help my state of mind. I won't worry about you so much. I know that you work too much and care for yourself too little. I can't not help. So you have no argument points." He flashed you a toothy smile, trying to relax you.

"Okay then, I guess I should just accept my fate as your girl. Not a bad thing, being Sargent Barnes' girl." You smile at him. "Captain, three eggs sunny side up! Please." You toss over Bucky's shoulder. If you thought you had seen Bucky happy before, it had nothing on the mega-watt smile he was wearing now. His eyes were bright and twinkling, teeth showing, you could even see dimples. You next breath was a half second late-snagged in your throat.

"My girl. That is right. Glad you have come to accept it." He laughed lightly before letting you go. You decidedly did not miss his warmth as the two of you went to sit at the island while Steve made you breakfast.

"Captain, may I ask something of you?" You looked up as Bucky slid you a coffee made exactly the way you like it. Steve hummed while poking at your eggs.

Please ask Mr. Stark out, This is getting sad. Take him to dinner, or coffee. I am not saying drop to one knee-"You stopped at Steve spluttered at you handing over your eggs. You dug in with gusto, needed to get ready for work. "People as smart as him, they need outlets. The need someone to listen as they ramble and talk for the sake of talking. People like him, get shut down a lot. No one wants to listen to the genius rant about something over their heads, they are seen as annoying or snooty. They get shut down a lot. They get easily ignored. Sometimes just having someone listen to them is enough to make a connection." You stood up and rinsed your plate putting it in the dishwasher. "If I may be so bold, you have been given two people to love. Do not squander your second chance." You patted his shoulder and upon seeing what time it was gasped. "I have to go. I am scheduled till 3am, hopefully. Bye Steve! Bye Bucky!" The sound of the door shutting and your dishes in the dishwasher was the only sign that you were there at all.

Bucky blinked at the now closed door and tucked back into his food. He shot a glance to Steve every few minutes. 'Battle plans in nanoseconds but working out feelings will take 7-10 business days.' "Steve, I know you have to rethink every interaction you have had with Tony but we also have to go to the compound later for our classes." Bucky gently reminded his best friend. Steve nodded and hummed in agreement. Bucky just rolled his eyes and began tidying up the apartment.

A few days have passed since your impromptu breakfast with the two super-soldiers. Your bosses had spoken to you about 6 12 hour days rather than 5 8 hour days this week. You gladly accepted because with 32 hours of overtime and each 4 hour shift being 100 cash bonus. Your bills would be paid easily.

'Especially with all those groceries the boys got for me.' You were getting ready for your fourth 12 hour day with some hesitation. You worked a 'catch all' unit, and lately it has been rough goings. The ICU and Med-Surg units had been busy so you had some hard patients to deal with, tracheostomies and chest tubes and packing wounds and IVs and...and...and...You were getting tired. Being the most senior nurse on the floor for the evening shift you had to help the others a lot. Which was fine for you, nursing is a team-effort after all, didn't make you less tired though. Honestly, the long hours helped with that, you knew everything you needed to know, working on muscle memory to get through parts of your shift.

You knew just in the four days you had lost weight, you didn't have time to eat during your shifts, relying on water to keep you going. you were barely think straight as you left your apartment. You stumbled out of the door, drinking a protein shake, cursing yourself vividly. You were going to be late at this rate. You swung your bag hard onto your shoulder not registering the slight resistance it meet. You were busy locking your door and mentally checking your pockets.

"Not even going to apologize for assaulting me with your bag?" A gruff voice interrupted your thoughts.

"Hmm. Sorry, my bad." You tossed over your shoulder having decided you were good to go. You turned around to see Sargent Barnes beside you. "Sargent Barnes! How are you? I've missed you lately. Been busy at work, the both of us." You said, grinning up at him.

"Hello, Y/N. Nice to see you too. We were working at the compound, Avenger-ing has been keeping us on our toes. But we both are okay. Now, are you going to apologize to me properly?" Bucky leaned against the wall next to your door, arms loosely crossed, eyes fixed on your face. He could see the weight loss in your face-cheeks gaunt-eyes dull and glazy, bags large and dark purple.

Your face scrunched up in confusion for a moment before clearing. "It was you? I'm sorry. I am bit in the clouds, I am on day four of 6 12's. It isn't easy right now, census is high on the floor. are you hurt?" You swiftly began running your fingers over his chest and shoulders and arms trying to discern any injury.

"Now, doll, as much as I would love to sit here and have you touch me all day. I can promise ya, that little tap from your bag ain't gonna hurt me. Now, are you eating okay? Do you have a decent lunch packed? What about water?" Bucky was quick to turn the mother hen card on you. He couldn't handle you touching him so innocently so suddenly.

You stepped back, warmth coloring your cheeks. "I think I am late. I am going to leave instead of disappointing you with my answers. you continued backing up not looking away from Bucky and him not looking away from you.

"Y/N, you need to take care of yourself. I can see you lost weight just in these few days." Bucky lectured. You sent him a small smile.

"Bucky, thank you. For caring, I promise, I am fine. This isn't the first time this has happened. I eat a bit, but too much stress caffeine and sleep deprivation leads to limited appetites. I don't have that much time to eat when I am on shift anyway. I do have to go though. Tell everyone I said 'Hi!'. Text me, we'll hang out. You darted into the elevator and were gone in seconds.

Bucky sighed deeply and reached his hand into his hair and gave it a good yank out of frustration. You were ignoring your bodily needs again. He also couldn't shake the sensation of your fingertips slipping over his clothes. You hadn't even batted an eye at touching his left arm. His arm hadn't been a source of insecurities for a while now, but it always caught him off guard when someone accepted it with no thoughts. He entered his and Steve's apartment obviously distracted.

"Bucky, you're back. What took so long?" Steve asked. He had a smirk curling in the corner of his mouth.

"You know what stopped me. Y/N did. She was leaving for work. we chatted a bit and she left." Bucky didn't want to tell Steve how the conversation went. It was between you and him. He could tell the two of you were getting closer and didn't want to jeopardize that with Steve's input. Bucky also knew that Steve knew you two had talked, even if he didn't listen in-he had to have heard you.

Bucky heading into his room to change out of his jeans and into sweats. They had no where to go and nothing to do. Bucky got settled in the living room, him and Steve discussing you and their jobs and which item on the List they would check out today. "I am going to do something for her. Maybe bring her some lunch later?" Bucky mused. Steve voiced his agreement, Bucky got to planning.

You went to work. You dashed from room to room to room, changing tubes and dressing and passing medications. You only sat twice; once to go to the bathroom and once to chug a whole bottle of water. Evenings were always busy, you tried to help the other nurses and your aides as much as possible but with the intensity of the level of care right now, it took everything you had to do your job. Finally after several nonstop hours you could take a breather. you were tired and dehydrated and nauseous. It was almost nine and you still had 6 more hours. You still had to chart and begin the discharges for tomorrow-two pleasantly confused fall victims from a local nursing home. Tank goodness, you were here for a few more hours.

You had killed 3 hours with paperwork, You were pointedly ignoring the clock, you had a feeling that it wouldn't be telling you good news. That minute your supervisor walked up to the desk with an apologetic look on her face. You signed and nodded. "What is 4 more hours. I'll stay. However, this is getting old. She isn't showing up for the extra hours she should be stopped from getting them. I know for a fact Annabelle needs some OT. Ask her maybe?"

"Thank you. I will keep that in mind and shoot an email. It's another $100." He shrugged before walking away. You heaved a sigh and darted off for more coffee.

6:30 AM, light turning on made you jump. To help everyone almost all the lights on your floor turned off, pardon some recess lighting in the ceiling. The housekeeping and Dietary staff were doing their rounds. The sight of disgruntled, coffee-sucking, barely-awake people gave you hope that your bed was soon coming. You were so patient, waiting at the desk for your relief to come in. You had been pushing back tears for several hours now. You had the entire unit to yourself and 4 aides. three people had fallen and one ripped their stitches open. You had completely checked out, staring blankly and bleary-eyed at your computer screen, waiting for the blessed phrase-

"Good Morning!" The chipper voice jerked you out of your fugue state. You blinked and blinked again. There sitting so bright-eyed and bushy-tailed was your relief. Sarah was a pleasant morning person type. "Another 16? Y/N, you must be crazy. You'll kill yourself at this point."

You waved off her concern. "Nope, just broke. I have bills to pay. My rent isn't cheap. Anyway, what beds? I had em all." You grabbed your report sheet, hoping you can read it.

Sarah told you who had what beds. You could see concern still lingering in her eyes. "I can't believe the whole unit was yours."

"Yeah, Beth called off and Jude was pulled to another unit. They know I can handle it. I take it and do okay. My fingers are ready to fall off and it was a terrible night." You two waited for the last nurses to come in and you quickly handed off your patients, "Good thing about all the hours? Report is quick. See you at three." You gathered your things and booked it out of the hospital.

You got in the elevator and shook off your tiredness to make it to your place. Your place, where the door was ajar, but not broken, and you could here two familiar voices arguing.

"I have no idea. What did she say yesterday?" The first voice said, higher pitch than the other, Steve.

"She said day 4 of 6 12's. It has been longer than that! Something could be wrong. Something could have happened. She could be hurt, Steve. This voice was deeper and gruff, steady but stress had it cracking. Bucky.

Bucky, it's Y/N. She is a nurse. Sometimes emergencies happen. Did you try calling her?" Steve was as usual the voice of reason.

"Her phone goes to voicemail." Bucky sounded so lost and defeated. "If something happened...I can't...Steve." Bucky was trying to keep his composure. You couldn't really stomach these two wonderful men worrying about you to this level. You gently pushed the door open. "Well at least my door is still intact." At your comment the two super soldiers whipped to face you so fast your neck hurt.

"Y/N!" They chorused. Steve stepped closer, looking you over with a practiced eye. Bucky stepped right in front of you, reaching out and running his hands over your head and back and arms, checking for injury. You allowed it, not like you had a choice.

So what can I help you boys with?" You stripped off you shoes and bags, putting you lunch bag on the counter. You were so tired but didn't want to kick them out until they were satisfied with your safety.

Bucky watched as you put everything away, a sluggishness and lack of motor control telling him how tired you were. "You didn't come home when you said you were going to. I got worried. I know you are cautious and careful but other people aren't."

"Sorry my relief called off. I needed to stay. My phone died around 2. I didn't bring a charger." You explained. Bucky and Steve nodded. "It happens quite a bit." You muse aloud. "I will put your numbers in my bag somewhere..." You trailed off. Bucky knew you would forget this conversation even happened, so he would take care of it for you. 'Maybe Tony would give you a StarkPhone. As an added safety measure.'

"I'm sorry, I didn't know that you need to be kept updated." You said. Your petulant tone but them on edge. Bucky pursed his lips. He and Steve knew that you had been alone a lot. You never felt that you had people to help support you.

"No. You don't need to ask us for permission. You can do what you want. I wanted to see you last night when you came home-or rather this morning. As your friend and neighbor, updates are nice but not necessary. I worry. That is all. I may have overreacted." Bucky said, he ran his hand through his hair.

"No. You aren't controlling me. You are asking as my friend to have me check in. I used to do it to my classmates and such in college. Nothing different. In your line of work a missed check in can be devastating. I should be more understanding. We are friends and neighbors, we need to communicate. I will try to do better." You sighed and smiled. You walked over to Bucky and pulled him into a tight embrace. Bucky froze for a millisecond and squeezed back, relishing in your warmth and softness. He pulled away and you took a step back to pull Steve into a similar embrace. "I am the luckiest gal in the world. To have you two caring after me." You looked between your guys.

"I'll try not to panic so quickly. Now, you have been up long enough, sweets. Why don't you head to bed? Steve has to head to SHEILD for a meeting. I was hoping that maybe I could--" Yu cut off Bucky before he could finish.

"Bed. Yes. Now. You? Stay, please? Bye, Stevie" You nodded once at the two men. Steve twitching at the nickname. "I don't mind you staying while I nap. I could use the company." Your end of the shift adrenaline was fading very fast, leaving you tired, unbalanced, and drained.

"Very well. Night, Y/N. See you two later." Steve headed out the door, locking it on his way out. Bucky pulled out a documentary to watch, and you headed to bed-stripping out of your scrubs before leaving Bucky's eyesight. In a flash averted his eyes, preserving your modesty.

After your nap you stumbled out of bed and paused looking between the bathroom and the kitchen. You weren't sure where you wanted to go first.

"Afternoon. I wanted to thank you." Bucky interrupted your debate.

"Thank me for what?" You answered, mentally shrugging off your shower until you were done talking.

"Not many people like me. Even at work. You accepted me wholly. Thank you for that. You have been there through a lot. MY rehabilitation and acclimation. I am glad Steve and I found you." Bucky sent a grin at you from the kitchen. Just like the last time it made your breath catch in your throat. He was so unbelievably handsome. You had always know that from an academic standpoint but lately, it was haunting every interaction you had with him.

Sargent Barnes, Bucky, I am glad you found me too. My family-we don't get along well. Even less so since I decided to move to New York and go to school and get into healthcare. I like to think I don't need anyone but no one should be alone. Not a workaholic nurse or a 100 year old human experiment volunteer, or a victim of 7 decades of torture and evil brainwashing or a multi-billionaire CEO. I want to help people heal mentally, emotionally, physically. People include you and the others and everyone else." You were steady. You peered at him, like you could see every thought and insecurity that passed through his head and were going to single handedly rip them out and stomp on them.

Bucky froze at your earnest declaration. He tuned to you, his pulse quickened in his chest. He knew he was supposed to answer you but he was still processing your words. You in one statement made him feel like he deserved to be here. He knew he was far from healed but he was doing better than ever and it was thanks to you and your unconditional love for him and Steve and people. A love he would spend every day being thankful for. 'I am in love with you,' He thought, desperate. You loved him enough to see through him, and his monstrous past. He decided then and there he would make you see how much he loved you.

You saw Bucky hesitate and decided to end the conversation, seeing it was making him uncomfortable, or so you assumed. "Did you finish Blue Planet? Also I need to shower. I have another 12 hour shift that will probably become a 16 hour shift. So I won't be home until 3 or 7 in the morning. You began hurrying around your apartment gathering your gear and clothes for the day.

“I did. I loved it. The ocean is so scary but cool at the same time. How was your nap? Hurry and shower, I will pack your lunch and make a grilled cheese." Bucky nudged you towards the bathroom. It was all sickeningly domestic and you didn't want to think those thoughts too much.

"Great. I will need some coffee and I will be good to go. A girl could get used to all this constant providing and coddling." You laughed and shut the bathroom door.

"Anything for you, doll. Anything for you." Bucky murmured before starting on lunch for the two of you.

You flew through your shower before sitting down and wolfing down a sandwich and chasing it with coffee made exactly how you like it. "I am going to be late." You raced around gathering your lunch bag and work bag trying to put your shoes on at the same time. "Bye, Sargent Barnes. See you tomorrow." Yu slammed the door shut, thoughts of how much Bucky was growing to mean to you swirling through your head-distracting you. You mad it three steps when Bucky opened your door.

"Y/N! Your keys and name tag!" He yelled at your back. You turned around and snatched them from his hand. Functioning on sleep deprivation and coffee and adrenaline, you stretched up on tiptoes and kissed his cheek "Thanks, hun." And you were gone. Bucky blinked at you but you had already vanished. He placed his fingertips where your lips just were and smiled. He knew that you didn’t mean it but that didn’t mean he would treasure the feel of you lips on his cheek.

The day passed slowly. You came back after your 8 hours off to find several people were discharged and no one was scheduled to come in today. To pass the time you texted Bucky some of the things your pleasantly confused geriatric patients were saying to you. You texted him about some frustrations with healthcare. He answered every message, actively listening and giving support. You texted him to tell him an aide came in with a possible flu case and didn't wear a mask cause "She didn't feel that sick". With her sick you needed to pick up the rest of your week 11-7 for aide shifts. However, your boss's boss came down and gave you an extended weekend and another $500 in bonuses.

"She is absolutely crazy. Crazy I tell you." Bucky said. Steve looked up from them book he was reading.

"What is she on trouble?" Steve asked. Bucky shook his head. He and Steve had talked about what had happened before she left for work. Bucky knew that Steve would be supportive, had been pushing for this for a while. But Bucky was nervous, he was going to take this slow. It wasn't anything he wanted to rush. He had waited this long, he could be patient.

"she has to do more 16 hour shifts cause someone came in possibly with the flu. She has been busier than usual on the floor and hasn't been eating. I can practically smell the caffeine in her blood." Bucky ranted. He had decided the other day to tell Steve what had been happening between the two of you. Bucky hadn't been one to keep things from Steve and he wasn't going to start now. He also could use another perspective. Steve agreed with his slow and steady method for now.

Steve smiled into his book. Since Bucky admitted his feelings to himself, his mother hen instinct was honed in on you with a vengeance. It was a nice turn of pace from it being honed in on him. "Oh, poor Y/N. Well, she'll come to us if she needs us. Now let her work. Us and Sam and Nat were going to lunch remember." Steve put away his book and swatted at his friend's head.

The next few days passed in a similar manner. You stumbled home at 8-ish to collapse promptly in your bed and sleep until it was time to get up for your next shift. You were tired. Tired down to your toes. Every day though Bucky was in your place working on lunch and coffee. You were in awe. No one had ever been around to help with your workaholic tendencies got the better of you. Bucky helped keep you fueled with more than willpower and sugar. He helped keep you healthy. The last 5 days had been spent working 16 hour shifts and on one memorable occasion 20 hours. This was the most you worked in recent months and the least amount of staffing.

However tired to you were it finally came- you day off. Finally you achieved your first day off out of the 3 that were given to you by your floor's supervisor. You had worked 20 hours to get to this moment and you could cry you were so tired. The world was fuzzy around the edges but moved too fast to track. You jaw felt loose and you were positive you had been drooling at one point. You tongue was heavy and clumsy. The few words you tired came out broken and slurred. You were wheezing, unable to catch your breath. You were shivering constantly even though you felt warm. You stomach rolled violently anytime to paused to catch your breath. You were at the elevator-waiting to go up. You could see your reflection, you hair stood up all over, you panted trying to keep from puking and passing out in turn. You had a gray tinged to your skin. 'Amy did come in sick. Could I have caught it?'

The elevator opened on your floor with the super soldiers. You dug out your keys and the bight red one caught your eye as it reflected the light.. Th last time you were tired to this point you had slept through a fire. You stepped down the hall, still thinking if you should use it.

In Bucky and Steve's apartment, they and Sam and Natasha and Clint and Wanda and Pietro were enjoying lunch and some board games. Bucky was looking at his phone every 5 minutes.

"Dude, what are you waiting for?" Sam asked.

"Y/N. She has worked a lot this week, 4 16 hour days and one 20 hour day. She is supposed to be home already, for her weekend off. She's usually back round 8. it is past noon. She isn't doing great. I am worried." Bucky spoke to his phone willing it to vibrate with a text.

"Bucky, your girl is fine. She's tired. Probably home asleep already. She is a nurse, give her credit." Natasha said.

"I know. But she isn't mine. I love her, but she isn't used to attention. I don't want to scare her off. Anyway, I am going to start lunch.

Bucky stood up and everyone froze to the sound of a key in the lock.

"Steve! She is coming here?! Quick! Make some room on the couch!" Bucky and Steve jumped up. Steve clearing a path to the couch to prevent you tripping. And Bucky pulled out a shirt and sweats for you to wear and grabbing his pillow and a small blanket for you to use on the couch. He knew you would pass out instantly.

They finished just as their door swung open.

Masterlist // Previous // Next

*******************************************************************************************

So? Longer chapter, I know it is seeming to rush here but I promise I fixed the pacing in the next chapter. I wrote most of this sleep-deprived in the small hours of my own 16 hour shifts.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #protective Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x nurse! reader #bucky barnes x medical! reader #Steve Rogers #steve rogers x tony stark #steve rogers fanfiction #Stony #avengers family #domestic avengers #saundrasays #saundraswriting #Need Some TLC fic

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peachyteabuck · 5 years

Text

eating a heart in a marketplace

summary: "[C]ommunion doesn’t need to be holy. Or even decent." - THOMAS C. FOSTER

After one of Tony’s men injures one of yours, he must present a peace offering in order to keep his black market distributor business afloat.

Good news: you accept the gift.

Bad news: the gift is Thor.

pairing: Thor Odinson x Reader

words: 5,863

trigger warnings: dubcon ig, humiliation, heavy d/s dynamics, mentions of canon-level violence, use of gags, collars, basically kidnapping, dehumanization (sexual and nonsexual)

notes/other: this fic is entirely self-indulgent and i am anticipating sequels bc i .... love it. enjoy!

sk box / masterlist / commission info / ko-fi

The obnoxiously long, dark oak table lays mostly bare, the only places set are the ones at each end of the exquisitely made piece of furniture.

The pink, sheer robe you’re wearing does nothing to hide the matching baby pink lace lingerie, just as the equally feminine heels donned with a strip of pink puff across the base of the toes would do nothing to protect your perfectly manicured feet from the harm of the eerie storm raging outside. Still, the garments and accessories are not meant to be something that cover you up, keep you warm, help you run from danger; they’re tools, tools you’ll hopefully use to get your way as the final meal of the evening approaches.

The entire event is set up just the way you want, with your makeup setting just as expected; the pig roasted to perfection, the pasta firm to the touch, the carrots and broccoli steamed until palatable, the champagne chilled. Most important, though, was the arrival of your guest. At exactly 6:05, your head butler comes in to notify you of the car pulling in front of your expansive home. With the wave of your hand she’s instructed to let the man come in, allow your rival to step into the palace you’d constructed for yourself when you’d risen to the top of your organization.

Well, maybe “rival” is the wrong word. “Rival” implies an active dislike or struggle, when in reality you two operate in separate spheres of influence.

“Companion,” though, seems too friendly.

As the distinct sounds of footsteps filter through the grand hall and into your study, the man you’ve decided to call “fellow leader” steps into sight. His fine pressed suit, dry as the Sahara desert, smiles as you come into his view.

“Ah, my favorite mob woman.” His eyes seems more sinister than you expected. You attribute it more to the dark tones of the evening rather than actual malice.

“Stark,” you say with a curt nod. You go up to exchange a kiss on each cheek, heart racing with the anticipation of what’s to come, excitement increasing with each step. “Come, we have a wonderful meal prepared for you.”

Anthony doesn’t protest, simply accepts a glass of Scotch a maid hands to him and follows you into the dining room. He chuckles a bit at the display you’ve put on, but doesn’t say anything outright. You two have enough respect for the other not deny their counterpart the joy of a dramatic display. He simply sits, the pig placed in the middle of the table large enough to be an obvious sign of wealth but not too big as to deny the two of you eye contact.

Small talk is exchanged as the meal is served, biscuits placed, and pork cut into thick slabs. Vegetables placed delicately on plates and napkins placed on laps. You ask how Pepper is doing, he asks if the dress you had handmade from some extravagant designer turned out how you wanted. Half your plates are clear before either of you truly start to converse.

You’re the first to break the silence as Anthony begins on his mashed potatoes. “I appreciate your understanding of the deal. I’m not a fan of bloodshed, and the demonstration at the club that night are something I wish to forgive and forget as soon as possible.”

Anthony nods, speaking around a bite of the creamy starch. “I agree. Odinson’s actions were inappropriate, wildly and unpredictably so. In truth, I’ve thought he was a liability since he joined, but I never thought he’d lash out like that.”

As you slice through a particularly thick cut of meat, your fork slips and scraps against the china. Both of your winkles your noses at the grating sound.

“Yes,” You pause to chew. “cutting off Barnes’ arm during a bar fight does seem a little…” The bite of biscuit you had gotten was just perfect, the equal amount of butter and brown sugary, apple flavor from the pork together. God, you really do love a good meal. “Rash.”

Your guest hums in agreement. He then clears his throat, preparing to talk. “To symbolize my apologies, I have brought you the gift we spoke of earlier,” he pauses, raising his left hand just above his elbow and bending his first two fingers forward. You sit up, intrigued.

As the large French doors behind him open, from the dark depths of your hallway comes the man who scarred your oldest friend for life, cost you hundreds of thousands of dollars in medical bills, and has put your best hitman out of commission. He’s tall, fills the doorway like a key in a lock. His scruff thick and dark, bags under his eyes from lack of sleep.

Something deep in you stirs, and squeezing your thighs together does nothing to stop it.

Thor Odinson is clad in a suit, as most of Stark’s enforcers are. Though, the handcuffs keeping his hands behind his back are new.

“Interesting addition,” you note, staring at his straining arms in the expensive fabric.

Anthony doesn’t give any indication that he hears, let alone cares, about your sarcastic comment. “I’m assuming this” he gestures to the man. “Will put me back in good spirits with you and the rest of your crew?”

Odinson walks to your side, head hung in shame and hair tied in a tight bun as his former employer speaks. He knows what he’s in for now, has been told in so many words he is now something less of a person – and it’s obvious this has put him to shame.

You consider it – think about letting all that happened go with a simple olive branch. Before you can do that, though, you must make sure that the merchandise lives up to the promises on the box.

“Down,” you command. Immediately, he drops to his knees. You smirk, dragging your baby pink nails down his stubbled jaw.

“Oh, yes. This will do just fine, Stark. Just…fine.” The last two words are long, almost forgetting to finish them as your mind travels to all the things you could do with him.

Anthony smirks. “Perfect. I’m assuming business with resume as usual?”

Your fingers stroke at the sides of Thor’s face and trace around the shell of his ear. “Of course. I’ll call the appropriate people later. Everything should be up and running by midnight.”

Suddenly Anthony tenses, his fingers moving to fidget with his tie. “If I may-”

“You may,” you tell him, not meeting his eyes.

Anthony audibly gulps, fidgeting in his seat and with his tie. “That’s quite late, that’s hundreds of millions of dollars that we’ll miss out on if we-”

You hold up your hand flat while your gaze remains locked on your new toy. “That’s the earliest I can assure you. Whether or not it happens before that is,” you stop to try and feed Thor a small bite of carrot from your hand. He hesitates but accepts after a few moments, plucking the orange vegetable with beautiful teeth and a gentle bite. He doesn’t make eye contact like you originally wanted, but this is a good start. “Not guaranteed.”

Anthony knows that you’re stubborn, much too stubborn to be moved away from your current stance. He’s done all that he can do to sway you, and now whatever income he hopes to make between now and the end of the day depends on Thor.

In short, Anthony Stark Junior (and his bank account) are royally, utterly fucked.

As he leaves your home he can hear you call to your head servant to tell Customs and Border Patrol to let his packages in (an assured start to him not losing a fortune), but he still wrings his hands as he slides into the backseat of his solid black Escalade. As the partition opens to reveal the man at the wheel, the thought of angry text messages from smugglers trying to get their goods into the States flash in front of Stark’s bloodshot eyes.

His driver, Happy, notices the fellow man’s anxiety as he looks at his boss through the rearview mirror.

“You think Odinson is gonna be okay, boss?” He asks, sort-of worried but mostly focused on filling the deafening silence in the expensive car. Money can buy a lot of things, but it can’t fill the awkward spaces in conversation that always come post-transaction.

Tony just laughs, typing something into his watch. “Of course not. That woman is going to chew him up and spit him out by the end of the fiscal year.”

Happy chews at his bottom lip. That’s two weeks from now. “You really think it’s gonna be that quick?”

“Probably,” Tony shrugs. “She’s never been known for mercy.”

The other man nods, quiet as he makes his way to the Stark residence. The quiet, cold night air strikes the mobster as he steps out of the car; the sharp grass smells fills his sense and bloodstream, calming him as he steps into his home. Pepper’s at the counter, stirring something in a pot. She doesn’t turn around when she hears his footsteps, but knows he’s somber nonetheless.

“Hard day at the office?” She asks, giving him a small taste of the homemade alfredo sauce.

Tony snorts, moving to lick at the wooden spoon. “Oh yeah,” he mumbles, wrapping his arms around her waist. She’s in one of his t-shirts and sleep shorts, the soft material comforting him. “You could say that.”

You only make good decisions when you’re in a good mood, and right now said mood depends on Thor Odinson - a man so insecure he once got himself tortured just because his captors told him he couldn’t take it. The man is a stubborn, uncontrollable mess with an anger issue to rival that of Lyssa, or a lighting on a field of dried grass.

He was feared within the Nest and by the lower Excidium members, but he didn’t make palms sweat and hands shake and hearts beat faster quite like you do.

No one fucks with you because you’ve very appropriately placed yourself on a pedestal based on madness, control, and desire for power. Thor’s just feared because he’s a dumbass with a short fuse. It’s the difference between a forest fire and a crazy, drunken uncle holding a lighter; one you can try and prevent, coax it into submission and run away if necessary. The other? More unstable than Francium.

(At least you know that thing’s only going to last twenty-two minutes, though. At least it’s predictable in its instability.)

Back inside, you’re more than ecstatic to have a new plaything. You were fully prepared to let the kid’s behavior slide, especially since the Nest brings in a hefty amount of revenue. But if Tony wants to give up a weak link, you’ll gratefully treasure the broken piece of steel you picked up from the gravel.

Thor stays like that, on his knees and eating out of your hand, for so long his legs fall asleep. You spend the rest of the night chatting at nobody, talk to him like he’s an old, deaf cat who just remains in your favor because he’s soft to pet and is cute. You sign some deals, check the language of some proposed treaties, write your to-do list for the next day all at the dinner table. Thor only dares to look at you when you’re too busy conversing with maids or chastising someone who works under you or any time your head is turned enough that he can make out the scar that runs from behind your left ear to the back of your neck.

Your form, the way you speak, he’s obsessed with his chance finally take it all in.

He hasn’t seen you in person before, just heard rumors and conspiracy theories and whatever else people spend their time making up about you. Thor always passed it off as fiction, simply inflating the higher-ups to pass the time. Everything about you, though, seems exceptionally true. Maybe even underestimations. It’s true you walk around your house in matching lingerie sets, possibly a robe if it’s breezy. The East Coast heat can be unexpectedly warm, but as the sun sets on the July day he can see goosebumps rise across your soft skin and the shivers that sometimes shake your spine. Your house fits all the descriptions he’s heard, too. The decor seems almost welcoming, faded oranges and pastel pinks and dull whites and baby blues and mustard yellows. Plush, velvet furniture the same deep magenta, mirrors trimmed in what Thor can assume is real gold.

It’s like a scene from Mean Chicks or whatever those 2000s teen movies are. If one of those movies took place in the home of an incredibly powerful mobster, it’d look like this.

“What do you think, pet?”

Oh shit. Thor was supposed to be listening, wasn’t he? When he looks up, Bucky Barnes (the man who called him a pussy and “Stark’s whore,” prompting him to grab one of the decorative - but still fully functional - swords from the wall of the bar they were in and just...slice away at his tormentor), Steve Rogers (who looks like the human version of a sugar cookie while specializing in torture) , and Sam Wilson (a sarcastic little shit who knows exactly how to get anything past the feds) are all staring down at him. Barnes’ left arm (stub? It’s mostly just stub now) is still bandaged, but he’s at least walking now. Thor was told he might die from blood loss, but no. Thor Odinson would never be that lucky.

“They never listen, do they?” You sigh, rolling your eyes as you shift to face them. None of the men sit, knowing they won’t be there long. Plus, they get a much better angle of Thor’s tortuous position while standing.

“You don’t think that deserves punishment?” Steve asks, a smile curling at the sides of his mouth that speaks volumes.

You shrug, not looking at him. “Later. Now I want you to donate fifty thousand to the Vermont special elections. I need that entry point into Canada or else there’s no way we can get out shipments into that garbage country in a timely manner. Also,” you turn to Sam, whose eyes are caught staring between Thor’s left upper ribs. “Call CBP. Stark held up his end of the deal, I have to hold up mine.”

All three of them huff, both at the large sum of cash you’re about to give to a twenty-something know-nothing frat guy who knows nothing about politics but everything about being open to bribes and about them not being able to watch the man they hate become the most embarrassed version of himself in front of the man he tried to kill and his two best friends.

Whatever. The trio’s time for revenge will come, you promised them that - promised Bucky when he was in the ICU that you would find the man that did this and would make them pay.

Bucky has never known you to break a promise.

When the three leave you and Thor, you raise your left arm high flick your wrist towards the large doors. Understanding the cue, your maids wordlessly close them to seclude you from whatever responsibilities you were intending on dealing with tonight. Whatever it is, was, can wait until tomorrow, can wait until you’ve begun Thor’s assimilation into your home.

There’s a moment of quiet, of stillness in the house before Thor hears the sounds of several pairs of footsteps – maybe four, he counts – that enter the large dining room with haste. He’s quickly escorted down a long hallway and up a winding set of stairs. Thor can’t see much as he’s rushed away, and the little he can make out is a baby blue wallpaper with gold patterns etched into it, and fine paintings that appear sporadically on the walls. Some are black and white with abstract patterns, others depictions of angels, a few featuring intricate designs that resemble the sky and sea.

It feels like a forever before Thor is slammed down onto the floor of your bedroom, his knees hitting the wood with a painful smack. Despite the earsplitting sound, he doesn’t wince, doesn’t even flinch as his hair is pulled back by one of the maids so he’s forced to look at you. As you gaze upon him he bares his teeth; you can see fire behind his eyes. What a cutie, you muse to yourself.

“Wrists,” you instruct. Another maid moves behind him with dusty pink rope, securing his wrists together behind his back. “Legs,” you tell them next. Thor is easily flipped onto his back, arched at an uncomfortable angle because of his arms. Just as quickly as before, his legs are tied so that his calves and the backs of his thighs meet. When he’s flipped back up, all he can see is you smiling devilishly. “I’ll do the rest myself ladies. Go ahead and take the night off, I want him all to myself.”

“Yes ma’am” they respond in unison, Thor unable to see their hurried steps but understanding that when he hears the door closing behind them, he’s completely and utterly alone.

For a moment you two just stare at each in silence, his nostrils flaring and chest rising from anger and adrenaline. He heaves as you calmly gaze upon him, pissing off your captive even more. All Thor can do is react while you stand there, stationary and speechless.

Within a few moments, he’s lashing out to break the painful quiet. “This fucking sucks,” he hisses through clenched teeth. “That Barnes fucking deserved that shit, you know? He’s a whiny bitch that gets into shit he doesn’t belong in. I bet he’s fucking compensating for something, ya know? He’s not even a big enough man to come at me himself, needs his master to do his bidding ‘n shit. Why the fuck am I ever here anyway, do you go through boytoys so fucking often you just steal them so that you don’t have to pa-“

You roll your eyes, shoving three fingers into his mouth. Thor looks more confused than anything else, but he does immediately stop talking. Good, exactly what you wanted.

You two stay like that, your jaw tightened with one eyebrow raised – daring him to defy you - and him looking up at you like a puppy who’s just pissed on the carpet in defiance. “Listen, you little brat. I used to babysit for twenty dollars an hour. I put myself through grad school twice on money from too-rich white-ass parents who couldn’t control their kids so they pawned them off to underpaid college kids. I got here because I worked for it, dealing with men much more powerful than you acting like children. If you think for a fucking second that I will tolerate this behavior in my house, under my roof, then you are wrong. Very wrong. Do you understand me?”

Thor’s eyes narrow, and though he doesn’t bite, he does press his teeth into the skin of your first knuckle. It’s enough to keep your attention entirely on him, eyes locked on his as you throw your phone onto the bed next to you. You know this game, and you know breaking first would mean he has some sort of holding over you. Unblinking, you stay silent as he swallows around your fingers.

The tension in the air is thick; it’s nothing you can’t handle, nothing you aren’t used to. Thor is the first one to surrender, looking down at your baby pink stilettos. “Good boy,” you huff, moving to open a drawer that conveniently sits just within arm’s reach. You withdraw you hand from his mouth but don’t move to wipe his spit from your fingers. Thor can’t see anything you’re doing, but does hear a smaller (and less used, judging by the squeaking noise it makes as you open it) drawer open, the sound of a little bell, and then the loud scraping of both drawers closing on top of each other and hitting the back of the structure that holds it.

“Head up,” you command. “Look at me.” Thor’s hesitant but ultimately obeys. His eyes widen as he sees the items in your hand. The first is a simple, black ball gag and the other a frilly, pink collar with a small bow and equally tiny bell at the front center. In the back, an adjustable metal clip.

The gag is slipped on first, the uncomfortably large sphere blocking any searing remarks from leaving his lips. As spit pools below his tongue and from the corners of his mouth, all he can do is growl low in his throat.

Despite your long, pointed nails you open the clasp of the collar with ease, flashing it close to your captive’s face like an owner showing a dog his new restraint. Thor may be your pet, and you may be his rightful owner, but the move isn’t one that builds trust. It’s one that makes his insides curl, because it’s a demonstration of how much power you have over him. Look at this thing, the gesture conveys. Do you understand now? You’re mine. Everyone will know that. Everyone will know what you did. This is your retribution.

“Are you gonna shut up now?” Thor doesn’t move, but he also doesn’t make any disgruntled noises. “Good. Now, let me make myself clear, since it appears you do not know the terms of Stark’s and my agreement; Stark settled to give me the man who permanently injured one of my best men in exchange for my forgiveness of the entire event. That means two things. First, Stark gets the money he needs from my business in order to remain powerful. Second, I get to do whatever I want to you. Understand?”

Thor’s eyebrows furrow. What do you want to do to him?

“For now, though, I am going to untie you and go to bed, because I am tired, and it has been an exhausting day. Got it?”

Thor nods.

“Good.”

He flinches as you kneel down to his level and begin to untie him from the complicated binds. Your fingers move with purpose, your nails occasionally scraping across his electrified skin. With his body uninhibited, he flexes his fingers as to examine the indents in his flesh.

“Don’t worry,” you tell him. “Those will go away by morning.”

Somehow, he doesn’t believe you.

He spends the night on the cold wooden floor, occasionally making a desperate attempt to fit himself on the tiny plush pink carpet that the dresser rests on. Thor doesn’t get much shut-eye, time either spent shivering or trying to plan for survival. He can’t escape, it’s been made very clear that both Excidium and the Nest will both be hunting him down if he so much as pisses where he’s not supposed to. It seems keeping his mouth shut, following orders, and taking whatever it is you want to put him through with whatever tiny amount of dignity he has left.

(As the night progresses, he realizes the last part will be the hardest).

When the world comes alive again, Thor remains mostly ignored. As the sun comes up and you awaken with your alarm, he barely gets so much as a brush of fabric as you pull off your white nightgown and slip into a pale-yellow sundress with a long, white cardigan. It’s much different than what you were wearing last night, but as you readjust the strap of your lacey white bra from its improper place on your shoulder, he guesses that was more show(wo)manship and a reiteration of hierarchies than an honest exchange between business partners.

As the first full day under your whim progresses, he’s left behind as you move to your office. You feel some time apart may be good for his insolence, even if his fierceness amuses you so.

You like a challenge, especially one you know you can win; a little tussle didn’t hurt anybody, has it?

You instruct one of the new recruits to buy you a dog bed – the largest one they can find – and you have it placed on the floor next to your bed so you can keep an easy eye on him throughout the day. Thor’s kept on a leash attached to the collar on his neck; the piece of leather is flimsy at best, but the man still refuses to break out of it for fear of punishment.

There, on a large, baby pink pet meant for some Doberman or Pitbull or other bigass dog, he waits, ears perking up whenever someone, anyone steps into the room. But, while he craves human contact, the hushed voices of the maids that clean up the dirty clothes and make your bed make the hairs on the back of Thor’s neck stand in fear.

Natasha, lover, retribution.

Bucky, money, revenge.

Loki, trip, return.

He can’t tell which name fills him more with dread. Barnes is barely healed and full of rage at his injury, desperate for vengeance against the man that hurt him so. Natasha Romanoff is a woman that Thor has never truly met, only seen when Stark and you have business that requires some back up. Even so, the stories of her apathy and brutality need no introduction; once, she cut a dude’s dick off, made a wallet from the foreskin, and sent it to him while he was recovering in the hospital. She carries a switchblade in the inside of her bra. She only has red hair because the blood crusted onto it permanently stains the follicles.

And Loki…

Well, Loki and him have been estranged since they were both late teens. They’ve both had daddy issues since birth, and Loki’s so happened to manifest in a weird mix of picking up mercenary work, becoming a serial sugar baby, and wearing a lot of black. The last thing Thor would expect is for Loki to settle down for someone like you, a woman who requires loyalty of heart, mind, soul.

His thumping heart and terrifying internal monologue are interrupted by a maid, one he hadn’t yet seen, whose face scrunches up when she notices your absence from the room. She then sighs, and beckons two other maids – one pushing a cart filled with a small buffet of food, one carrying a cart with cutlery and dinnerware – through the threshold. The three of them stop at a bone-white desk, fretting about as they set up what Thor can only assume is a late lunch.

As you step into the bedroom – pushed through the doorway by the maid from before – Thor can tell you are less than happy.

You’re annoyed, to say the least. Can’t even tell why, really, can’t find an even barely comprehendible reason for you to be tearing through financial documents as if they were important family heirlooms that were on fire. No reason for you to snap at a recent recruit for misspelling the code name of a spy you had placed in the Nevada Supreme Court three courts back. Some madness bites at your skin as you nibble on small sandwiches and drink a large glass of cold sun tea, and Thor can tell it’s tearing you apart.

Thor can’t see much from the floor, but he can feel the electricity in the air as you scribble in a notebook that he guesses is where you plan all of your mob’s heinous activities. He wonders what your handwriting looks like, how you keep all the people you’re blackmailing straight, what kind of code you use. Stark keeps everything on paper as well, in a locked room inside of a secret room inside of his basement (well, maybe. Thor’s never been there, he’d never gotten high enough in the Nest to warrant being given access to such a space, but he’s heard the rumors).

It's about an hour later when the head butler from before, the one who led him, his (former) boss, and his (former) bosses men through your maze of a home, steps just into view of your tired eyes.

“Miss, you need a break,” she says simply.

You sigh, rubbing at the bridge of your nose and then your temples. Resting your head in one hand, you use the other to grant her permission to grab your paperwork. It’s only when she’s gather your things and left the room that you speak.

“She’s right,” you let out a small chuckle before sauntering over to the white dresser in the far corner of the room. “I do need a stress reliever.”

The man on your floor can’t see what you’re doing, his eyes only widening when you place the thickest, blackest dildo he’s ever seen into his view.

“Wh-“he starts to speak, trying but failing to push himself away from you. “What are you doing to do with that?”

You shrug, eyeing it up and down. “I don’t know. Could fuck myself with it…could fuck you with it…”

Thor’s stubbled face is beet red from embarrassment, even more so than when you made him kneel in the dining room or gagged him with your fingers.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you, you little slut,” you hiss. When he doesn’t look up at you, you grab his chin and force his head back. He doesn’t want to admit it, but it wouldn’t be fun if he just gave in the second you put the tiniest bit of pressure on his overly-tough facade. “Tell me you love sucking my cock.”

But all Thor does is open his mouth wide as it can go and pushes his flattened tongue as far out of his mouth as it’ll go. He’s got this glimmer in his eyes and a smirk on his lips that tells you Thor knows what he’s doing, he knows he’s pushing every button he can think to push.

You’ve danced this routine before, though this time Thor’s much more confident, willing to push further, push harder.

“You want to be a brat?” You ask, begging him to give you a smartass response. “Then take it like one.”

With swift movements of your right leg he’s pushed flat on the ground, his back hitting the hardwood with a low thud. “Flip over,” you tell him. With an unfortunate lack of protest, he does, toned stomach settling onto the floor barely warmed by his back.

You climb over him, leg on each side and core pressed into him as you gather his hair in your first. “You’re such a fucking tease,” you hiss through grit teeth. Thor makes a similar – but more pained noise – as you wretch his head back. “Such a little tease, begging me to put him in his fucking place. If you wanted me to fuck you like you deserve, you should fucking ask for it next time.”

Smack, the deep sound of your callous hand hitting the soft flesh of his ass almost makes him flinch more than the pain. Smacksmack, two more, quicker this time.

“I’ve met little fucking brats before, but never like you,” you pull the rest of his clothes off with minimal protest. “Gotta get you cock drunk before you’ll figure out how arrangement of ours works, don’t I?”

Thor, with his eyes scrunched shut and mouth lax, says nothing in return.

Your hand reaches under him, hips lifting to provide a small space between him and the floor. He’s already hard, aching, leaking, and he moans brokenly when you wrap your hand around him.

It’s rough, hurts more than it pleasures, but it still feels so, so good all the same. Thor almost wants to say so, too, but can’t make himself push the words from his throat.

“So easy to get you all fucked out isn’t it?” You whisper low in his ear. “So easy to break brats like you, makes me wanna make you cum and then leave you here for the rest of the night…”

The subsequent whine from Thor makes you laugh and push him harder into the floor. “But I won’t do that, can’t leave little things like you all alone, would be like leaving a baby bunny to a bunch of wolves.”

Thor doesn’t disagree, doesn’t try to build his demolished ego back up.

“Doesn’t that feel good, sweetheart?” you purr, hand keeping a slow, torturous pace. “Doesn’t it feel good to be good?”

All Thor can do is squeak and push his face into the floor, trying to hide the deep redness in his cheeks.

For once, you don’t punish him. You want to, want to stop and make him beg for forgiveness for his nonanswer. Maybe tie him up and fuck him with your fingers until he’s ready for your biggest strap, pounding into him.

Oh, Babyboy, you’re being so good taking this whole cock inside of you, aren’t you? So good for your owner. I bet nobody’s ever fucked you this good.

Maybe you’ll tie him up, edge him until he’s sobbing. Wait until he’s just about to cum and pull a vibrator or your hand away – make him whine and tease him as his whole body twitches.

Are you not enjoying yourself, baby? Because it looks to me like you are. Look at those glassy eyes, do I need to slap you to make you pay attention?

Thor screams as he cums all over your floor, whole body tense then completely lax within the span of seconds. His breathing is loud enough to be heard across nations, each exhale laced with a small moan.

He cries, deep and low, when you climb off of him, tries to arch his spine into the nothingness that once held you.

“Shh,” you tell him. “Mommy’ll be back in a second.”

Thor seems to calm with that, heart still racing but head and body slumped.

When you come back, you hold a bit of salmon - small grains of buttery jasmine rice and cranberry sauce stuck to the pink meat. You’ve grasped it with three fingers – thumb, middle, point – and have it nearly pressed to Thor’s plush, pink lips. It’s still warm, dinner having been served by the maids despite your absence from the dining room.

“C’mon baby,” you tell him. “You gotta eat sometime.”

Thor glares at you but knows you’re right – his already flat stomach howling in pain from lack of sustenance. Reluctantly, meekly, he pulls your fingers between his lips and swallows the soft food.

“Good boy,” you tell him. “See? Following directions isn’t that bad.”

Thor, for the first time in days, says nothing to the contrary.

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