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pearlywritings · 1 year

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Even scarred one is loved

synopsis: snippets about your partner or you having scars

pairing: Albedo, Ayato, Diluc, Kaeya, Kaveh, Tighnari, Zhongli x reader (separately)

tw: fluff, hurt/comfort, lighning scars, in Albedo’s part Rhinedottir used to be reader’s mentor, dragon features in Zhongli’s, in some parts scars are on the character, in some on reader

word count: 4k+ words in total

a/n: has been lying in my drafts since that summer event with Diluc and Kaeya's letters...

Albedo

The Chief Alchemist’s skin is a porcelain perfection. Milky white, smooth, spotless, flawless. The man can easily be mistaken for a marble statue and put on display in a museum - showing the chilling beauty of his visage. That’s what the body of a homunculus is - impeccability, when even the biggest and deepest of wounds disappear with time, no traces left behind.

You, on the other hand, are anything but. Sure, you are pretty, but the canvas of your body carries a hideous scar, a curse you got as a reminder of getting too close to what had to have stayed unknown. You should blame your mentor, really - if not for Rhinedottir’s deeds, you would’ve lived and died as a normal human.

…or would've become a monster, like everyone else. But here you are, in clear consciousness, with memories, so, you guess, the Gold saving you actually kind of pays off everything else she did.

Doesn’t mean you are proud of it. What it means is a lot of explanation to do if someone sees, and you prefer not to be bothered and reminded of the devastating events of the past, so you try to avoid neck and chest revealing clothes like a plague, no matter how many times Lisa pesters you about it.

When Albedo asks to draw you naked, you are, for the first time in centuries, shocked. Sure, you worked out your relationship, discussed and tried some intimacy, but the notion of having your skin exposed for long, of his eyes lingering on it for minutes, or hours even… It makes you nervous. Under the clothes you wear - a big, tree-like scar reaches its branches to your neck, spreading its trunk all over your chest. Your mentor, a true scientist to her guts, found you in a grave state and decided that it was better to curse the heart, before anything could happen to the brain.

The man’s fingers are gentle, when he pops the buttons of your shirt open and carefully slides the fabric down your shoulders. The dark night on your skin reflects in his cerulean eyes and something sparks in their depths. You should not, but you feel embarrassed and silently bite your lip, when he leans forward to press his cold lips to your collarbone.

“You are so beautiful…” he whispers and your heart - the one you believed was hardened forever before you met your lover - leaps in your chest. “Allow me to show what I see, [...]”

A word of endearment caresses your ear in the sounds of your native language, and at that moment you understand - Rhinedottir succeeded indeed. She did create a humanoid form of life, but it became capable of feeling and understanding feelings like a real human would. It can’t be any other way, not when he is looking at you like this, not when he is leading you to a sofa and makes you feel comfortable, not when his touch against your cheek is reassuring and attempts to chase your worries away, not when he picks a sketchbook, where you know the only pictures existing are of you.

Not when he draws the reminder of your doom like it's indeed the fraction of a starry sky painting your skin.

Ayato

Ever since you saw a long ugly scar across his back, it has been making you restless. The discovery happened when your lover invited you to attend the hot springs with him. It was a new step in your relationship, on the very border of entering its intimate part, and you were excited to accept his offer and remained elated for days before and on the day of. That is until his back was bared to you at some point and you saw it.

Ayato didn’t say anything about it, relaxing in the hot water and busying both of you with a conversation and savoring the finest tea and some sweets (which kept you slightly guarded, until the head of the Kamisato clan didn’t tell you these weren’t cooked by him). With all of that, you had no opportunity to ask him, not that you felt like you could - you are close and in a relationship, but who knows how willing he is to talk about it?

It’s been a week since then, and the sight of the scar occasionally appeared before your eyes. You must’ve gotten quieter and brooding, because Ayaka comments on it, when you pay her company in Inazuma City to do some shopping.

“Y/n, is something worrying you?” You look up from examining embroidered silk and tilt your head in question.

“Why would you think so?”

“Well… I noticed how your thoughts seem to stray away and I wondered if everything is okay. Maybe I can help?”

You hum. Ayaka is his sister and you grew to be good friends. It wouldn’t hurt asking her, right? Surely she must know something about that. And if she doesn’t? What if she knows nothing about the scar, about her brother having been hurt in the past? Ayato cares for her and would like to not expose her to things like that, even if she is a grown up woman and a skillful sword user. You need to be careful.

“Say, Ayaka…” you start, cautiously choosing your words. “Does your brother have a…tattoo on his back?”

“A tattoo?” She looks at you confused. “No he doesn’t, our clan doesn’t have a tradition like that. And I don’t think it’ll fit with the scar.”

Oh, so she does know.

“The scar?”

“Yes, the scar. You know the Kamisato clan had many enemies, and still does, but in the past it was so much worse. There were multiple attempts to,” she pauses, as if searching for the right words, “remove him from the picture… One of them nearly succeeded.”

“Is that so…” Ayaka nods and, hiding her saddened gaze, returns to looking at the fabric, thereby drawing the brief explanation to an end. Suddenly a strong urge to return the Estate fills your heart. To talk. To listen. To offer comfort and caresses if he desires so.

But as Ayaka drags you to the next store on your list, you think that you'll wait. Until he decides he wants to tell you the whole story, until he knows that he can trust you with his life.

Diluc

The room is silent. It is the dead of the night, and even so at least three people are not sleeping at this ungodly hour. You give Adelinde a grateful set of eyes, when she returns to you and your husband's bedroom with a bowl of clean water and several towels, placing all of that on the table near the armchair you've been standing close to.

"Are you sure you don't need my assistance?" She asks you quietly, glancing between you and the half-undressed man slumped on the piece of furniture. This woman is a real treasure, you think. It is true that this is her job, but she's always been doing far more than her responsibilities require. And that’s exactly why you are not going to deprive her from her sleep any longer.

"No, Adelinde, it's fine, I got this. Please, return to your room and have some sleep."

The head maid gives you a nod and then a small bow.

"As you wish. But if you need me, please, don't hesitate to wake me up."

"I hope it won't come to this. Good night and thank you again."

"May this night be kind to you."

And so she is out. With a sigh you glance at the man who remained quiet during the whole ordeal. Diluc knows he is in big trouble. He promised you to be careful, heck, he promised you to cut off his nightly outings, and here he is, exhausted and arm bleeding. He expects you to scold him or to whisper-yell at him, anything that would indicate you are angry with him, but you do none of these things. Instead you grab one of the towels, wet it and start wiping the blood off.

As you do so, you can't help but let your eyes wander all over the skin of his bared upper body.

Scars.

So many many scars. Big, small, wide and thin, old and fresh… Each told a story and you knew a handful. Yet this time you asked for none, busying yourself with cleaning his wound to treat and bandage it.

"Diluc," his name finally leaves your lips and fiery eyes snap open - he nearly drowsed off.

"Yes?" A croaked sound he is almost embarrassed of.

"Thank you for returning alive."

You do not care that this raid has probably given him a new future scar - all you care is that he came back, that he made it out despite everything.

"But I'd really like you to stop pushing yourself this much. I am grateful you've already lessened your workload and dedicated more of your free time to me, though I want you to become dedicated to yourself too. You do tend to forget about it."

The redhead's heart clenches. He knows he cannot promise you to stop completely, but he can try and get less injured whenever he is out fighting.

After all, there are too many scars already to add new ones to the collection.

Kaeya

Fluttering of crystal fly wings. These little beautiful creatures can be found whenever in Teyvat but the first time the Alberich boy encountered them was in the vineyard of the Dawn Winery. Gleaming in both sun and moon light they felt like little sparks, slowly floating in the air, looking too tempting not to chase after them. And he used to chase after those a lot, smiling and laughing and looking at the bright world like any happy child would.

Your butterfly kisses remind him of crystal flies, caressing his face with a subtle tremble of their wings as they try to fly away. The memories of the past overtake him, making the man feel warm and cozy, as if it's not a candle lit on the bedside drawer of your bedroom, but a tender sun, licking his cheek with its affectionate rays.

Until summer heat is replaced by the blazing fire in his memory and the surging pain in his right eye. The eye you've been delicately touching with your soft lips for the past several minutes. The eyepatch is lying on the sheets near his right hip, right where you put it, after taking it off with your deft fingers. Fingers that delicately cradle his face in their loving hold, not letting him shy away from you, letting you kiss an old scar.

No words are exchanged as you sit in his lap with his palms resting on your sides, digits creasing the material of your nightwear. Kaeya is nervous. You've come to him without any explanation, and before he could climb into your shared bed and hold a blanket up for you to join him, asked to shed the shirt he's always worn to sleep. The man knew what you wanted to see - not the many scars littering his body (they weren't all that surprising to you), but the traces of burns on his back, the ones he hid from you for the longest time, not ready to tell the story, afraid to face the past. He didn't blame the one who gave him those, he could never truly, however the day he got them scarred him much deeper than skin.

Yet he did as you asked, slowly, with stiff fingers, but eventually the fabric was no longer covering his body.

You didn't ask him any questions, you didn't even say a word, as you took his hand and softly spinned him around to face his back. Your kisses could do nothing to the damaged skin, they were long healed naturally, but his inner turmoil of emotions was soothed by your display of affection.

More relaxed and less anxious he didn't protest when you made him sit on the edge of the bed and climbed into his lap. Maybe he did tense a little when you reached behind to untie the string attached to his eyepatch, maybe his fingers grabbed at your clothes a little bit too roughly, but he didn't stop you, until the little piece was off and away from his face and your lips replaced it.

He knows he doesn't deserve you, but Celestia be damned - he doesn't want to ever let you go. The only one he entrusted his heart like this, allowed you to unwrap the carefully built facade and reach to what is real about the man Kaeya Alberich is. And knowing you love him with all these ugly scars littering his skin? Makes him believe you'll still love him after seeing how scarred his heart is.

Kaveh

“Say, would you like to go shopping for our next date?”

The question takes you by surprise as you exit the bathroom of your bedroom you’ve been sharing with the blond architect ever since your relationship got more serious and you offered him to move in with you. The gorgeous man is standing in front of your full-length mirror, his back to you, undoing the numerous clips that keep his hair out of his face daily. The crimson of his eyes flashes, as he meets your stunned gaze in the reflection.

“Why so sudden?” You ask - nervously, he notes, fidgeting with the material of your night clothes.

“I noticed how you always wear overly closed clothes. I thought we could look for something more revealing?”

The way you shudder doesn’t go unnoticed by him, confusion now etched in his facial expression.

“What’s wrong, my flower?” You sigh, lips drawn in a line. He uses such a delicate word to address, but you are anything but.

“Does it bother you? The way I dress, I mean.”

“Hm? No, of course not,” Kaveh shakes his head, turning to face you. “You look pretty in whatever you wear. But you must be uncomfortable, walking around wearing so many layers when it’s scorching outside. Just the other day you were so dazed, I was afraid you’d pass out before we reached home.”

Even now he can’t help but question the rather covering night clothes, especially compared to his bared upper body. He was sure to discuss it before you started sharing the bed, and you never showed discomfort about it, but somehow always avoided the topic of your own choice of night wear.

As he is pondering over the topic in his head again, you chew on your bottom lip. It was foolish of you to think he’d never notice your strange behavior in regard to how you dress, or rather started dressing after getting together with him.

But it’d be unfair to keep your lover in the dark, after he was so open to you, right?

“Hey, lovebird?” Kaveh snaps out of his thoughts, when you call him, settling on the edge of the mattress and patting the place by your side. The blonde immediately joins you, eagerly accepting your hands sliding into his, giving them a reassuring squeeze.

“Does anything bother you?” He beats you to it, making you sigh again, feeling how your heart is wildly thumping against your ribcage.

“Promise you won’t feel differently about me?”

“Never,” the firmness and the speed with which he confirms your statement brings some comfort to your worrying self, giving you strength to proceed.

“You know I used to work closely with matras, yeah?” He nods. “This job isn’t particularly harmless, so I, um,” gulping you search for any indication of - you don’t even know what - in his eyes. Whatever it might be, there is none, only softness hidden behind the ruby gems, pouring in gentle waves, caressing your being, making your heart flutter, and words abruptly leave your mouth.

“I have scars.”

“And?” Your eyes widen, when he cocks his head to the side, looking at you with a clear lack of understanding.

“‘And?’!? Kaveh, come on!” You groan, looking to the side. “I mean look at you! You are absolutely gorgeous, and I know how much you appreciate fine things, which I am not…”

“Is this the reason why you’ve been dressing like this and changing in the bathroom all this time?”

“...yeah…”

“Oh, darling,” a warm smile brightens up his face and he leans forward, kissing your cheek. “First of all, you are not a ‘thing’. Secondly, I am such a fool for not noticing sooner. I assure you, you are already so amazing and I can’t imagine some scars scaring me off. Truth be told, I fell in love that moment I saw you handling that lying bastard to the ground.”

“You mean that day you looked at me with literal hearts in your eyes, scrolls tightly held to your chest and mouth open?” He immediately grows bashful, but the smile gets bigger - you are teasing him, that’s a good sign.

“Yeah, yeah, that. What I am trying to say is that in my eyes you are already wonderful. We can take it slow, but would you trust me and show them one day?”

The way you lean into him burying your face in his neck tells him everything, and yet the blonde is delighted to hear your quiet answer.

“Of course.”

Tighnari

Tighnari curls his tail around your hip tighter when another clap of thunder disturbs the night. His ear twitches, sensitive to the sound which easily shakes him out of sleep, eyes immediately trained on the window to make sure it’s closed.

When a flash of light rips through the dark clouds that overtook the sky, the man’s pupils narrow in slits out of pure instincts, and he makes a sound of discontent, drawing your body closer to his. Which, as he quickly realizes, wasn't the brightest idea, as you start squirming and groaning. Tighnari curses under his breath, when you yawn and attempt to stretch in his hold, eyelids slowly sliding up, revealing your precious orbs he loves so much, to the curl of his toes.

You owlishly blink, directing your gaze to your lover’s face, then blinking again, trying to get rid of the veil of sleep and make out his features in the dark.

“‘nari…” you rasp, reaching to his cheek, tenderly touching it with just the fingertips. “Why are you still awake, dear?”

The fennec man opens his mouth to give you some excuse, to lure you back to the dreamland, but another burst of electric light and the loud rumble accompanying it cuts him off, forcing his body to stiffen. You crane your neck to look behind you. The understanding quickly dawns on you and, humming, your body moves.

Tighnari’s eyes slightly widen in panic when you sit up, leaving the lock of his arms, letting only his tail rest on your thighs. But even it soon ends up on the mattress when you stand up and wobble to the window. A soft rattle of closing curtains for a moment blocks another clap of thunder, and you returning to his side not a few seconds later soothes his nerves.

“Still hits badly?” You ask softly, reaching for his hand and sliding your fingers between his. He can only nod, dropping his forehead to your shoulder and squeezing his digits around yours.

“I know it’s hard,” you press a sweet kiss to the top of his head, right between his droopy ears, “but I also know you’ll overcome it. And I will be with you all the way.”

“How did you manage?” He finally speaks for the first time through the night and he sounds so tired.

“You mean this?” Even in the darkness he sees how you tug on the hem of your shirt, revealing multiple scars, akin to the tree limbs, tracing the path the electricity took as it traveled through you. That electro-wielding scam really got you in the past, Tighnari knows it took a lot of time for you to recover - both physically and mentally. He was there to see it, as you were sent to the Gandharva Ville for rehabilitation, way before you two started dating.

He nods again, curling his tail around your figure once more.

“Well,” you glance at his shoulder, where under his own shirt, the similar scar is hidden, one that has an even ghastlier story behind it, “truth be spoken? Under your care and with your guidance. You were the one to drag me out of depression and fear, and I am ready to do the same to you.”

The man hugs you tighter, tucking your head under his chin and sighing shakily. He knows eventually the scar will just be a scar, something to match with you and have a story to tell to the stupid rangers and passersby of Avidya Forest for the sake of caution… It’s your willingness that counts though, filling his heart with warmth and making him forget of things surrounding him.

Tonight, despite the foul weather outside, he will be able to sleep. With you by his side.

Zhongli

The life among mortals was peaceful and fulfilling, and the retired Archon enjoys to fullest everything it has to offer. But sometimes he can’t help himself, leaving the house in the city he shares with you, his spouse of many centuries, if not thousands of years. He takes a long stroll to the land of the adepti, where he is always welcome to stay and reside, unbothered if he desires so.

In the mountains, on peaks hidden behind the clouds, the stoic man can allow his control over this mortal form slip, revealing horns, adorned with gold, long tail of earthly color and long fluffy trail of autumn-colored fur on the tip of it, eyes, more reptilian than human like, shining like finest cor lapis, and scales covering some of his skin.

Often you find him on one of the mountain tops, basking in the sunlight and squinting like a content cat would do. Your lover prefers to shed some of his clothes, baring his skin and scales to warm rays, making them shine beautifully - both because it makes him happy and because he knows you can join him, thus the dragon does want to show off to you.

This time you sense him on Mt. Hulao and upon arriving there spot the half-dragon Prime adeptus resting near the lake, having abandoned his long robe (he does change his attire whenever he is out of the city) and resting on his side. Quietly walking closer you see how the tip of his tail lazily grazes the surface of a cool lake nearby and smile. The next moment the water splashes just barely miss you as you jump to the side when the very same tail whips into your direction.

“My love, I see you are playful today,” your husband grins contently, not opening his eyes but retrieving his tail so you could finally come closer and sit with him.

“I am sorry, the gem of my heart. Simply couldn’t help myself,” your presence is welcomed and the gentle touch of your hand against the side of his neck sends pleasant shivers down his spine.

A comfortable silence falls between you two. Zhongli relishes in your loving caresses, while you make sure to glide the tips of your fingers everywhere you spot the scales of who he really is.

In his human body, Zhongli’s skin is flawless. It doesn’t bear any reminder of hardships and war times, when he fought, injured and got his own wounds, but his other self does. You remember the last time you saw him in his full beast glory - while beautiful and shiny, his scaled body was scarred. Like this, in his adeptus form you could witness some of the scars as well, each reminded you of this or that ghastly cut delivered by his enemies and with time healing into nothing but long lines of imperfection. Yet you do not hate them, nor does your husband. They simply tell the stories of the past, and make you both remember that despite any obstacle or danger he faced, he always made it out in the end.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #albedo x reader #ayato x reader #diluc x reader #kaeya x reader #kaveh x reader #tighnari x reader #zhongli x reader #albedo kreideprinz #ayato kamisato #kamisato ayato #diluc ragnvindr #kaeya alberich #Kaveh #tighnari #zhongli #genshin impact fluff

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johnwickb1tsch · 2 months

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bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 29 all chapters

WARNING: NSFW, SEXUAL CONTENT, YANDERE SH!T. Plz take care. I luv u all. 😘

-You dare not put it down on the big tablet on your easel where John will see, but you can’t stop yourself from drawing it out in your smaller sketchbook-journal that is easier to squirrel away under clutter, putting down marks like you mean to exorcise her from your memory. You draw her like a ghost in her field of happy white flowers, and write in the margins in your looping script, I’m sorry. I don’t know how to make him forgive you. You want me to save him but I don’t know how. I don’t fucking know how.

Maybe she’ll actually hear your plea and do something useful about it, like haunt John’s dreams instead of yours.

Maybe you’re losing your damn mind.

You find that either way, you’re not brave enough to mention her to your captor again.

She becomes an obsession, and you keep drawing her in your little sketchbook. You’ve only ever seen one picture of her. It was in the den, but has since disappeared. Still, you feel you know the lines of her face, the brightness of her eyes. You go back to your old fixation with the ladies of Mucha, sketching her out as the Lady of the Daisies with flowing auburn hair surrounded by her stylized flowers and flowing lines.

You strive to cover your true fixation by putting down anything as quickly as you can on the easel, knowing your captor will be by for inspection. You draw sunflowers, your favorite summer bloom, something fun but you can do with your eyes closed with colorful, juicy strokes of oil pastels. You hope to keep John off the scent of the book that holds your heartfelt neuroses that you bury under piles of all your new art supplies and anything else you can find.

It was stupid, of course, to think you could really hide anything from him.

One day you find him in the chair with his legs crossed, perusing your sketch journal with one of those magnificent thunderheads of a frown.

You are certain you are fucked, when he asks, “Is this your idea of a joke?”

Trembling as you imagine what he’s going to do to you for this infraction, you answer truthfully, “No.”

He closes the book with a snap, crossing the floor to stand before you, his powerful body moving deceptively slow, the way a tiger appears slothful in the jungle.

You know he can snap you up with one bite.

You cannot stop shaking, as he peers down that straight nose at you, pinning you with black eyes that somehow burn. He does not touch you, but God. He sees everything. You just know that he sees everything, and you find you are terrified of how he’ll react.

“Have you been snooping through my things?”

“No.” The irony of him holding your sketch diary is not lost on you, but wisely you hold your tongue.

“How did you know what she looked like?”

“You had a picture out of her, ages ago.” At least, it felt like a like a lifetime ago.

“How did you know about the daisies?”

Now you know he’s going to flip his shit. It sounds fucking absurd, even to you. Your voice can barely rasp past what feels like dried twigs in your throat to whisper, “I saw them in a dream.”

You expect him to scoff and call you a liar. But he just searches your face, his eyes a little too wild for your liking. Here we go. He’d been damn near stable the past few days, but surely this will set him off.

You close your eyes, unable to watch the unfolding of your doom. This is it. He’s going to lock you up forever. You’ll never see the light of day again. The trembling in your frame kicks up to ten, and you hug yourself just to have something to hold on to.

When his next question comes, he could push you over with a feather.

“What does she say?”

You shake your head, realizing your cheeks are wet with tears.

“Nothing. She just…offers me the flower.” Going for broke you add, “She looks so sad.”

It is the sound of tearing paper that opens your eyes; with horror you find John making confetti of your art nouveau sketch that took hours to do. However, any protest dies on your lips—if destroying the drawing appeases him, maybe he won’t take it out on you.

Without another word, just a hard look, he stalks from the room.

Only when the sound of his footsteps fade down the hall do you let out the breath you didn’t even realize you were holding, your knees quivering like leaves in a storm.

However, you are not foolish enough to believe you’re in the clear just yet.

-Later, there is no dinner. You find the kitchen cold and empty. Not sure what to make of this, you graze in the fridge, before returning to your bedroom. Not sure where John has gotten off to, you shower, then go to bed, finding yourself lying awake in the dark without him beside you, almost itchy without his steady presence in the evening at your side.

Part of it might be that you fear something is brewing, and you can’t stand the waiting…but part of it might simply be that you miss him, as fucked up as that is.

In the end, against your better judgement, you go looking.

You search the house, until the only room that is left is the garage. Silently you open the door, slipping through without a sound. You too are learning how to move quiet as a wraith. The smell of rubber and oil assaults your nostrils. Classic rock is playing low on the radio. In the far bay, the hood of the Mustang is open, and John is bent over inside, wrenching on something and muttering to himself. There is a partially empty bottle of Blanton’s Bourbon on the workbench behind him, and an empty glass.

Unable to stop yourself from committing what perhaps might prove to be suicide, you creep to the other side of the Land Rover, using it as cover as you eavesdrop on this man grumbling to the ghost of his deceased wife.

“What do you want from me? I loved you. I loved you with every fucking fiber of my being, but you left me. I died with you the day you left me, and she is the only thing that makes me feel alive again. I need her, and she never would have come to me on her own. She never would have stayed. She never would have stayed.”

He says this to himself over and over, and it wrenches your heart, because you know it isn’t true.

You think you manage to creep back out again without him noticing, Led Zeppelin on the radio disguising the sound of the door.

When at last he comes to bed and wraps you in his arms, holding you too hard for comfort, you feign sleep, smelling the bourbon fumes on his breath. You can’t help but tense, wondering if he will forget his promise this deep in his cups.

But he just sighs into your hair, crushing you as he pulls you even closer, and you don’t know why it breaks your heart all over again.

#heyyyy it happened!#bittersweet john wick imagine #john wick #john wick x reader #john wick fic #john wick x you #john wick x y/n #keanu reeves x reader #yandere john wick

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sauriansolutions · 5 months

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Here's a little snippet thing to get myself started at having a blog with, like, content.

I was inspired by the absolute silliness that is the class of TWST item called "Secret Snacks." I just adore the concept that you can boost your friendship with game characters by, apparently, stealthily feeding them illegal snacks during class?

All my (excessive number of) Jade cards have full vignettes *cries* but I just want to keep feeding him forever... help...

"Secret Snacks"

You are sitting next to J.ade in class before lunch. You can hear his stomach growling and whining every few minutes.

You occasionally catch him frowning down at himself after a particularly egregious rumble, like he's trying to scold his belly into silence. You can't help but let out a quiet giggle at his stern expression, and Jade, realizing he's been perceived, shoots you a sheepish grin.

"So sorry," he mouths, sotto voce.

You reassure him that it's alright.

Towards the end of class, you notice Jade reaching down to fold one arm around his middle. His stomach's complaints have gotten quieter, but they've also become more frequent, to the point that the gurgles have become a near-constant background noise.

As you watch, Jade looks up to check the clock for the umpteenth time, then sighs quietly and slumps forward a bit in his chair, lips pressed tightly together in a disappointed pout. You look up, too, and note that here's still about fifteen minutes before lunchtime.

Poor Jade. Since agreeing to switch seats with Leona (who wanted a spot behind the tall student so the professor couldn't see him as well), you've noticed that Jade gets distractingly hungry like this every day, around the same time.

Jade is usually perfectly attentive and studious during class. But you've heard he also has, what he terms, "poor fuel efficiency. So, you guess that this is around the time his energy reserves from breakfast are nearly depleted.

His empty, grumbling stomach clearly makes the mer student unhappy and fidgety, shifting in his seat, shuffling papers aimlessly, or doodling in the margins of his notebook.

You've seen Jade's actual sketchbook, so you know the eel is quite artistically talented. But, humorously enough, as lunchtime draws near, Jade's sketches seem to inevitably devolve from nearly-photorealistic drawings of mushrooms, trees, and plants, to simplistic and almost cartoony renderings of his favorite foods.

Octopus dishes, you couldn't help but notice, feature prominently.

You've even caught Jade gnawing on the decorative filigree around the edges of his magestone pen, once or twice. Thankfully, the pens are apparently spelled to be highly durable and shatter-proof. Still, the grinding sound of Jade's razorblade teeth on stone or metal makes you wince every time you hear it.

Jade, now nearly drooling, is putting the finishing touches on a drawing of what appears to be a steaming plate of grilled octopus.

... Not for the first time, you find yourself wishing you had something to feed Jade.

Students technically aren't allowed to bring food into the classroom, but you've seen your fellow classmates covertly munching on candies, meal bars, and the like enough times during class, that you feel like sneaking in a snack or two couldn't be *that* big of a deal.

Maybe tomorrow, you think, you'll slip Jade one of those packets of barbecue-flavored dried squid that are on sale right now at the Mystery Shop.

Smiling, you jot down a quick reminder to yourself in your planner. Next to it, you draw a little cartoon eel. You give it a big, toothy smile, and add lots of cute little sparkles in its eyes.

Satisfied with your work, you close your planner and wait for the bell to ring.

Classes have been getting increasingly more difficult, as midterms are approaching.

But now, you think, you have at least one reason to look forward to tomorrow's lesson.

#jade leech #twst #twst tummy stuff #secret snacks #jc writes #uhh i gotta remember how tagging works but I'll do it later peace out #edited to add a readmore because dang #this came out longer than i expected

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halliescomut · 7 months

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My Personal Weatherman Ep 7- No Subs watch

Again a reminder, this is me reacting to the new episode of MPW that I get from an internet friend-y, but unfortunately (for me) they speak Japanese, but I do not, and the link they send has no subtitles, so I have no idea what anyone is saying. In fairness...I have been watching Japanese series for about 2 decades, so I can pick up on a couple words/phrases, but mostly my goal is to observe body language to kind of guess what the story is. It's a fun, silly little game. There may be moderate spoilers about sequences, though I try to keep things vague, and of course no dialogue spoilers. Let's go!

-Oooh! An on location segment for the weather. How exciting! (ALso I swear it looks like the location is just outside of Man-san's apartment building, and that's why they had the camera framed so close in.) And Yoh still watching Mizuki so closely.

-Oh, we have ARCs...is this actually a few weeks later, or is the BL manga publishing industry able to do a two day turn around?

-Man-san sounds very encouraging, at least.

-That is a clearly depressed and defeated Segasaki. Poor guy. Has still no one explained that Man-san's husband isn't after Yoh?? Really?

-Why is Yoh always so goddamn suspicious??? My god dude.

-I will say also, I don't love Mizuki's tone here, but I think that's me relating a bit too much to Yoh (since we're both on the same side of a D/s dynamic). I know I would be really upset to hear that distance in in Mizuki's voice if I were Yoh.

-Now we're getting the flashbacks from Mizuki's POV....interesting. I can't wait to know what he was thinking when he saw Yoh. His face is so precious.

-^^Literally all I could hear in my head at this scene: "Hands touch, eyes meet/Sudden silence, sudden heat/Hearts leap in a giddy whirl"

-Segasaki's college friends feel very much like friends of convenience. Like when you become best friends with a kid when you're 7, but it's mostly because you live in the same neighborhood.

-Aww, now we have Yoh in a cozy sweater.

-It is so sub of Yoh to just hand over his sketchbook without question, completely forgetting all of the portraits of Segasaki in there...and I REALLY wanna translate what Segasaki's response was, but I will wait.

-IDK what Segasaki is saying exactly, but I'd bet real folding money that's something pretty close to 'no matter what I couldn't stop thinking about him"

-The way Yoh came and grabbed him...what's going on??

-Aww, sick baby Mizuki. So cute. And the costuming makes them a matching set with their beige and blue. That's so cute.

-I just spent the last scene going like this, so....

-But now we have THE CURRY!!! The curry that made Segasaki finish falling in love with Yoh. I don't feel like curry is supposed to be that crunchy...but I could be wrong.

-His face, I'm dying.. And the little bonk on the head. Oh, if I wasn't already head over heels for these two dinguses, this would have been the last straw for me as well.

-Mizuki's love for petting Yoh is so fucking CUTE!!!!

-Yoh's smile as he draws Segasaki- so PRECIOUS!!!! (Sorry I keep yellling.)

-Poor Mizuki's face. 🥺🥺🥺 He really thought for a minute that Yoh left again.

-Dripping wet rain kiss!! We love it!!!

-Ooh...ooh....OOH!!!! God I really wanna translate Mizuki's little speech here, but I'm pretty sure the gist was 'you're mine, and I'm not letting you get away again". 🥵☺️😁🥰

This was an excellent episode. I mean the whole series has been, but this just....so good. I can't wait to understand more than 27% of it.

Finale next week (Booo!!!😠) but I will be happy to be able to watch the complete story over and over into forever. That'll be nice. Honestly this is the first BL I've every considered getting a physical copy of it's so good.

#My personal weatherman #Taikan yoho #mizuki x yoh #segasaki x yoh #segasaki mizuki #yoh tanada #mashiko atsuki #higuchi kouhei

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psychedelic-ink · 1 year

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This is the artwork that I commissioned from the talented @mjpens🧡

Stay In Bed has truly been one of my favorite things to write, I am genuinely so emotional over this series and my own relationship with it. I'm still surprised by the feedback and the love, so I would also want to thank everyone for their undying support and enthusiasm for it 🧡🧡🧡

This is from one of the scenes I wrote for chapter 6 and I can't stop staring at it. Thank you Maia for making this come to life, this made me beyond happy 🥺🧡

(I would also like to emphasize that in the story reader does not have a physical description whatsoever. I went the self-indulgent route and asked for it to be a self-insert <3)

the written scene is below the cut for those who are curious 🤭

“How do you like your coffee?”

“With milk,” you answer. “A lot of it, preferably.”

“So milk with a dash of coffee,” he grins, amused. “Got it.”

It’s been a couple of days since you moved in with Joel and Sarah. It was much easier to live with the father-daughter due than you initially had thought. Tommy came over in the mornings, dropping you off to work and Sarah to school, and the brothers went to do their own thing after that.

With Joel’s back turned to you, you look down at your sketchbook and add another line to what is supposed to be his unruly hair. He really needs a haircut.

Surprisingly living with him isn’t weird at all. He made you feel welcome. No awkward glances, no awkward touching. Just neighbors helping each other out. He places the steaming mug next to you and leans on his elbows. He looks at what you’re drawing and raises an eyebrow.

Joel brings the mug to his lips.

“You’re paintin’ me?”

“I’m sketching you,” you answer. “You’re a lovely specimen.”

“Is that so.”

The scent of coffee fills your lungs. Lifting your gaze, you observe his facial structures. You see the imperfections, take in the sight of his eyes, his bushy eyebrows, and the bald patches in his beard. You want to touch the small beauty park right in the corner of his eye that’s impossible to see unless you’re an inch further away.

If he knew how you saw him—if he knew how big he was in your mind— Joel would be terrified.

“Do you like art?” you ask, taking him by surprise. He takes a sip of his coffee and your gaze drops back to your sketch.

He hums, fingers thrumming the kitchen counter. “I like your art.”

“I should take you guys to an art gallery or something,” you say, smiling. “If you like mine, you’re going to go nuts over the things that are out there.”

Joel pouts and you roll your eyes. “What are you looking at me like that for?” you ask.

“I like your drawings. They’re—They feel close. I don’t know how else to describe it.”

It’s because it’s you who I think of when I create them.

“Do you know Salvador Dali?” you ask, then quickly add. “Or Dorothea Tanning?”

“Sweetheart, the only artist I know is Da Vinci and I’m not even a hundred percent sure he is one.”

“He is,” you affirm him excitedly, looking back up. “I love surrealism. It’s when everything gets really weird basically. So—wait let me show you. I think I have a couple of pictures between the pages.”

You miss the way Joel’s lips slowly curl up, adoration and fondness adorning his face, softening the edges. He comes closer. Your pulse quickens as your fingers rush to find the images, and when they do you basically rip them out from between the pages

“Look.”

All of them are images from Dali’s artwork. Mainly butterflies. Joel observes them carefully, touching them as if fearing he might stain them. You urge him to take a closer look by placing one between his thick fingers. It’s The Butterfly Rose.

“Never thought you would do homework for a hobby.”

“It’s not—” You let out an exasperated sigh, cutting yourself off mid-sentence. “Do you think I want to work at the coffee house forever? It’s not just a hobby. And of course, as an artist, I look at other art to be inspired. They make me feel things.” Seeing the startled expression on his face, you add, “Don’t you get like…shivers or something when you see a very nice wooden table?”

Oh, you made him uncomfortable. You sense that in an instant. His fingers trace the image of the painting, looking down, you notice the crease between his brows deepening with concentration. Was he concentrating on the image? In your words? You have no idea—the only thing you know is that this man concentrating on art is making your insides clench with a need.

“Sorry,” he grumbles. “I didn’t mean it like that. I do think you’re a serious artist. It’s just…fuck that came out wrong. I just didn’t think you would put in this much effort to somethin’ I said,” he shakes his head. “Shit, I’m bad at this.”

That undeniable need to touch him comes rushing back. You bite the inside of your bottom lip instead. “ I think I might’ve overreacted after hearing the same thing from my brother all the time. It’s all good. You might be the only one that takes me seriously so it was unfair for me to jump to conclusions like that.”

“He don’t support you?”

“He does…” you trail off. “In his own way, I guess.”

“That doesn’t sound like support,” he answers, clicking his tongue. “And just FYI I like your butterflies better, sweet tea.”

“Sweet tea?” you ask, lips curling with amusement and eyes widening with shock.

He shrugs. “You said you liked Dorothea…somethin’---”

“Tanning.” you quickly say. “So Sweet Tea as in…the last syllable of her name?”

“Would you rather I call you Tea?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Nope!” you grin, your heart elevated. “Sweet Tea is perfect.”

With a soft smile, Joel places the picture in front of you and gently taps on it.

“Well then, Sweet Tea,” he says. “Tell me more about this surrealism thing.”

#stay in bed #art commission #commissioned art #personal #tlou art #joel miller art

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plasma-archer · 3 months

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!!!!!STILL ALIVE!!!!!!

💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀

My god its been forever since I posted anything on my account.

I'll keep it short and simple, people. If my page is still relevant.

In June of 2023, I became pregnant with my first child. In fact, he's due any day now. Yes you read that right, I'm having a baby boy. So for any seasoned parents out there who are familiar with the laziness that plagues you during pregnancy, you'd know you lose motivation to do certain hobbies. In my case it was drawing. Not to mention that I continued working for as long as I could before the due date.

😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

I haven't posted anything on any social media platform. Not here, not even the fan group I follow on facebook. I even lost touch with some content creators here and I do apologize for that.

Not to mention my husband and me had two scares during the pregnancy. But we are doing fine now and are happily waiting for our son's arrival.

Now, will I continue posting Gravity Falls fanart in the upcoming days?

The short answer is yes but with limited time on my hands. I came up with some ideas regarding fanart. Now it's just a matter of me picking up my sketchbook and getting to it.

#update #coming back

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ardenssolis · 1 year

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@belliautore said (inbox):

'I think one of the beautiful aspects of mortality is how finite it is. It is the hardest thing to accept but a reason to cherish every moment.' Emily's smile is soft yet a tad forlorn as she grazes her hand over the sketchbook in her lap; tender touch brushing over the features of the faces she brought to life upon the page. Charlotte & Anne, how she misses them so. 'My sisters didn't grow old and grey, they succumbed to illness. Even so, watching them experience and enjoy life to the fullest was wonderful - even if it was from a distance.'

Having long since mourned her dear family, coming to terms with their absence & understanding that they would not wish for her to dwell, the witch's smile widened with fondness. 'I like to believe they're enjoying their eternity in some paradise or other. Writing to their hearts' content, creating new stories and lands of wonder. I'm sure you wish the same for your family, Ramses - that same peace.'

❝MM, I AGREE. I think if everyone lived forever…they would forget this. Life was not meant to go on indefinitely.❞ And the beings that did live forever were changed for it. Their way of thinking shifted to match this as well, and what should bring joy soon became lukewarm in time. How was one to enjoy every day to the fullest, truly live, if their lives could never end? That was something he had pondered once, although he could not remember when. Ozymandias had lived to be ninety-one years old, an incredible feat for his era that had become a normalcy in this modern one, and that had indeed been a full life. As much as he lamented that his body would decay, the truth of the matter was, he would not have been content if he had lived another hundred years or more. Would he still be himself? Would his mind have been altered? That was something he would never truly know. Quietly he listened to the rest of Emily’s words, golden gaze soon equivalent to honey beneath sunlight as his lips curled into a small smile. Death was a sad thing…but at the same time, it did not need to be.

To him, death was but another journey.

Another beginning.

Thus, to hear Emily speak like this pleased him to no end. Loved ones did not wish to hear your sadness. They wished to hear your joy. ❝I am sure they are,❞ he finally spoke with a small nod. ❝I believe that the dead still know what takes place among the living. It is just that they cannot interfere, but they can be present. Be it in a dream, or otherwise.❞ He paused for a moment, faintly surprised by what was uttered next, although it did not take him long to chuckle gently as he turned his gaze away to Emily’s garden. ❝I am sure they are very happy where they are. Perhaps…maybe one…❞ That sentence never finished as he huffed with faint amusement, head shaking. ❝Anyway, you will meet again one day. For now, though, continue to keep living your own life to the fullest, Emily. ❞

#[UUUUGHHHHH -clenches chest-]#belliautore #;v: summoned forth #;;hgw #answered #;;inbox #;post: beta

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writing-protocol · 2 years

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Familiar Faces

At some point, the movie ended and another began. Keith dozed through some of it, exhausted almost despite himself, and woke just in time to see Shiro fiddling with his phone. The storm still raged, no quieter now than when he’d crashed an hour prior, and the world outside the window was dark.

Sitting up, he glanced at the easily-visible screen. A group chat was open, the conversation moving at a steady pace. The nicknames were unfamiliar, but they were color-coded so he could take a few educated guesses.

“We — me, the paladins, a few others — have a shared channel,” Shiro explained, hands hovering over the tiny keyboard. “I’ve been ignoring it since leaving the Atlas, and my friends are chatty.”

Shiro wanted to reassure them, but words wouldn’t come. What could he possibly tell the team if not the truth, and that truth involved Keith? Keith, who had asked for more time to think, who clearly wanted to lay low.

A gentle hand touched his shoulder, and Shiro looked up into a pair of overwhelming eyes. They saw right through him, he was sure of it. Keith pointed at the small device, and Shiro handed it over.

A few taps later, Keith had the camera going and took a quick, rough selfie of the two of them. Shiro looked at the resulting picture and couldn’t help the warmth spreading across his face. Here was Shiro, expression pensive, looking over at Keith who made a silly face. The scars on his neck were partially obscured by the short beard, but not fully.

Keith handed the phone back to him. “You can tell them.”

“I know you don’t remember any of them, but the paladins… we think of you as a dear and precious friend. If I show them this picture, they’ll be here in the time it takes this storm to pass.” Shiro licked his chapped lips. “They can be a lot.”

The twisting, sinking feeling in Keith’s gut only worsened. “I’m not Keith from before. I’m just a person. With scars and missing memories. They need to understand.”

He ducked his head, hands curled into fists at his side.

After a momentary debate, Shiro reached out and touched the younger man’s nose.

“You’re still you, Keith. Memories or not. Still kind and selfless, still a tinkerer at heart, still in possession of your mother’s knife.” He nodded toward the sketchbook on the coffee table, open to a page filled with theoretical designs. “Please, no matter what you decide, don’t sell yourself short.”

Slowly the fists loosened, and stormy eyes looked up at this not-quite-stranger. Keith wanted to argue that Shiro had no right to upend his current life, but that didn’t ring true.

They’d just spent five hours on Keith’s lumpy couch, watching old movies and eating snacks while thunder roared overhead and lightning danced. Keith felt like a passing asteroid pulled into Shiro’s gravity well.

Did he want to escape?

Living this life meant reconciling his old one, whatever that ledger looked like.

“I’m willing to give whatever happens a chance.” He shrugged and pulled off his sweater.

Underneath he wore a black t-shirt, and Shiro got a good look at his friend’s body. It told its own story.

“I will tell them to take it easy.” Shiro knew a little something about surviving trauma, and a world turned suddenly busy and loud wasn’t his idea of a good time. “They mean well," he added.

Keith's lopsided smile didn't reach his eyes. “I knew I couldn’t hide forever.”

“But you wanted more time,” Shiro said.

“We all do.”

Shiro ended up settling for the facts.

Keith Kogane is alive and on Altea. He doesn’t remember us. There’s a lot to discuss, but not over chat.

[Picture]

The steady flow of conversation exploded into mayhem. He saw a message from Keith’s mother, whose name was the same bright-red color as Keith’s had been, and couldn’t even begin to imagine what she must be thinking.

She’d lost her son twice now.

Krolia: Can I speak with him?

“Would you be up for a video chat?” Shiro asked his silent companion and showed him the message. “You can say no. I’m sure she would understand.”

“Yes.”

A few taps later, the face of a strong, stoic Galra woman appeared on the screen. Tears marred Krolia’s eyes as she saw her son and couldn’t help either the grin or the sadness.

Two years… a lifetime of pain crammed into mere moments.

Keith looked back and felt a wave of warmth, unlike his feelings for Shiro. Different but similar enough to recognize. They looked alike, he reflected, like mother like son.

“I love you, child,” she said softly as a doggy-shaped face shoved itself into the picture. “The space wolf misses you, too.”

The creature vanished in a puff of haze and smoke as Keith watched. Confused, he glanced at Shiro. An incoming burst of ozone was all the warning Keith got before a two-hundred-pound creature rammed into him at full speed. The wolf knocked him over and went straight for his face.

A new mind touched Keith’s, slipped easily past his shields, and settled in its familiar spot. Something clicked as the wolf nuzzled him.

“Kosmo, down!” Shiro practically yelled, horrified.

Keith grinned and nodded, and the wolf got off him as if by magic. It slid off the couch to examine the empty popcorn bowl for any signs of remaining butter.

“Good boy,” Keith signed.

The creature nuzzled his hands, begging for treats.

“I don’t have any,” the dark-haired soldier told the wolf, unsure how he knew what it wanted. To Shiro, he signed desperately, “He teleports?”

“Oh yes, your space wolf definitely teleports. He can even take people with him assuming he knows where to go.”

“I have a teleporting wolf?” Keith reiterated.

Krolia chuckled and wiped at her eyes. “Would you mind translating, Shiro? I don’t know enough sign language.”

“Of course. Uh, Keith was making sure the wolf was real.”

The wolf found a wall inside Keith's mind that hadn’t been there before. It didn’t remember coming across it in the past, and the wall felt wrong. Keith was pack, and the strange obstacle stood in the way of that.

Confused, the wolf whined at the humans.

“Hey, buddy,” Keith mouthed and scratched behind an ear. “My wolf?” he signed with utter disbelief when the furry menace calmed down enough to go explore the studio.

“You raised him,” Shiro acknowledged. “More than once he saved our collective behinds. He’s a very good boy indeed.”

He had a… pet? Keith looked at the giant creature and couldn’t shake the strange feeling that it had taken up residence in his brain. It settled on the couch beside him, head in Keith’s lap where it could get occasional pets, and closed its eyes. It took up all of the remaining sofa space and then some.

“When we lost track of you on that mission, Kosmo was with your mom on a mission. One of my biggest regrets was not insisting that he come with you,” the admiral explained.

“Kosmo?” Keith finger-spelled the name.

“You told us that he would tell you his name one day, but then… you were gone and we can’t talk to him like you can. Could. So, we had to improvise. Lance wouldn’t stop calling him Kosmo and the name stuck, eventually. He likes ‘buddy’ too, occasionally. When treats are involved.”

Krolia added, “He looked for you, for months.”

“I don’t know how to take care of him,” Keith signed and then scratched behind one enormous ear.

“He eats pretty much anything you give him and will sleep on any warm body he trusts.” His mother smiled. “But I’m sure you’ll figure it out quick. You were amazing with him when you first met him.”

if you want to read more, click on the memories tag.

#memories #voltron #fanfiction #nopro writes #sheith #keith kogane #takashi shirogane

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hwajin · 2 years

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have you seen the pictures of hyunjin in a bedroom uh I think some slow morning sex with the sunlight coming in would be Amazing

pls i have and i haven't been okay since- also don't mind me mentioning his art cuz that also is never leaving my brain

send thoughts!

a mewl left your lips while your eyes barely managed to stay open, rolling to the back of your head with every delicate thrust of hyunjins hips against yours. your cold fingers snaked around his arms, muscles and veins protruding with his own weight he supported above you, and your nails eventually found his shoulders, digging into them at a particularly harsh thrust while hyunjins head fell back into his neck, eyes shutting close and nose scrunching. and he looked oh so pretty like this, the earliest rays of sun hitting his body in a way that just seemed so perfect, illuminating his figure above your own while the first innocent morning birds accompanied the sinful noises in the four walls of hyunjins room.

your boyfriend's movements caused a moan to leave your lips and your arm to fall limp against the mattress beneath you, your eyes opening right when you felt paper instead of the soft cushions gainst your skin, your eyes falling on the sketch hyunjin has made just before his lips were on your neck and his dick grinded against your core. it was a messy pencil drawing, one of you snuggled inside the blankets of hyunjins bed. when both of you have woken up he's convinced you to lay still for him for just a bit, said he wanted to 'capture this moment forever' while his hands already laid on the sketchbook he had resting on his night stand at all times. you didn't quite know how the morning took such a drastic turn, you weren't one to complain about it though either. not when you suddenly locked eyes with your lover again, his brows scrunched together and his breath coming out hitched, not when his hips rolled against yours in wave like motions, while sleep still overpowered every inch of your bodies, though neither of you could care less about the half awake state. one of your hands found hyunjins cheek, the man leaning into your touch so softly, his features relaxing momentarily, and he let out a sigh before planting a kiss against your palm. one glance into your eyes, one grind against your body before he took said hand into his own, bigger one and placed it down on the mattress again, next to your head, interwining your fingers. he squeezed a bit, leaning down to plant a long and slow, yet passionate kiss against your lips, hot breaths mixing within each other.

#hyunjin smut #hyunjin scenarios #hyunjin imagines #hyunjin x reader #skz smut #stray kids smut

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a-gal-with-taste · 2 years

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Lucky (Part 3) NSFW

Summary: Or, Silco finds the fanart. (Finale)

Part 1 | Part 2

Warnings: NSFW|MDNI, Silco X GN!Reader, established relationship, bit of fluff/rom-com, teasing, toys, dom/sub elements, edging

There were images that could never leave your brain.

In the quietest of moments, they lingered, demanded your attention as they whirled in the back of your mind. Sometimes they would already be moving your muscles for you, your hand making loops and curves in the edges of paper, before you stopped the details from coming in. You stopped, your brain was already consuming your thoughts with memories of making the initial image come true, and while the images you put to paper were necessary, were needed, you still found them to be a poor substitute.

Because how could ink, paint and pen even compare to the real, raw vision you have spread out before you?

His mouth dropped open, head pressed back into the pillows and cushioned bed beneath him as you jerk, and slick your hand around him. Slowly, to purposefully graze your warm palm over the aching, flared head of his cock as you trace veins.

You are rewarded quickly with the stunning, beautiful sight of his hair flying as his head slams back. Arching up with an almost-animalistic growl as he fucks into your hand, orgasm all but ripping through him as you bring him to completion. Spillover leaking from his tip, spilling down his pulsating length in your loose grip, down to his thighs and even splattering his abdomen...

You don't just want to stare at the image forever.

You want to make it happen, again, again and again, but since human capacity for such exhilaration is only so finite, you have to come up with a different way to keep such pictures of Silco coming undone by you in your mind forever.

Which is where the book came in. Your book.

Your sketchbook.

The image couldn't leave your brain, but it had to be put to paper. Had to, for you had seen the consequences of letting it stay and linger in the back of your mind. More than a couple of broken-glasses were on your tab down at the bar, something that Sevika only raised a brow higher and higher at. Especially when, in your mindlessness, you had tried to scoop up the glass with your own hands, and immediately had red gushing from your palms.

"What were you thinking?" The scolding was worse than the pain, even with the annoyance in his tone kept to a minimal, you shifted, but hid your modified state with a wince as another piece of glass was plucked from your palm. "...nothing." You finally decided on.

The hand curled around your wrist stilled, than tightened minutely to catch your attention. "Nothing?" Silco said flatly, in disbelief. "You've never been the one for slipping up, making mistakes. Forgive me if I find it difficult that nothing would make you drop three glasses in one week."

No, but saying nothing was much easier than admitting the truth. Of course, one would expect their thoughts to linger on the mental-picture of their partner throughout the day- such was normal. Expected, even, and you knew that even in the busiest of moments, in the worst and most clustered meeting with Chem-Barons, or when he was in a faraway, solitidary zone with his paperwork, some part of Silco's mind held some regard for you.

He wouldn't be surprised that you were thinking about him. But you imagined telling him that one of the only images circulating your mind, was of him fucked-out and still leaking from your touch, would raise a brow.

"Just... a lot on my mind," You said, with a smile you hoped would erase his suspicions. "I'm starting to think you're more accident-prone than just mindless," Silco retorts dryly, plopping the silver tweezers down before tilting your hand this way and that in the light. Deeming it glass-free, there's a tug as the bandaged is wrapped around your palm. "Take the rest of the night off."

On one hand, that was great. Now you had the opportunity to actually get the image out of your head, now that you had some additional free-time to yourself. On the other though, it sounded closer to an order than a suggestion, which made you frown. "My hands are fine, I can-"

"Based on your track-record, they'll be falling off at the sinews by the end of the week."

Ouch.

But he seemed to be right, as you visibly winced when curling your hands into fists. There was a sound of another sigh from him, but the kingpin grazes his touch from your wrist, to cover over your hand with his palm covering the back of it. The warmth made you smile through the sting, even though Silco kept his face impassive in his small comforting.

"You know I'm not usually such a klutz, Sil." "Exactly what I was thinking; so any explanation that you can provide would be appreciated to what's actually on your mind."

You and the Eye of Zaun could be open with one another, in most things. The man with so few to trust leaned heavily on you for support, and while you knew there was some demons, some memories and thoughts that he simply could never share with everyone, even you, Silco could be open with you.

And you had no problem being openly communicative with him.

Except, in the case in which you had been filling an entire sketchbook filled with all the images of your partner. Those that would seem mundane, sweet even, as you had woken up a couple times to commit the view of Silco in sleep, in peace, to paper.

And then there were those that were a sight for your eyes alone. Gratuitous, explicit, and insanely hot, but not exactly something you wanted to excitedly race to Silco's desk to show.

"Nothing," You said with a smile, leaning over to kiss the corner of his mouth, the scars that reached past his cheek brushing against your touch. "Got nothing on my mind, Silco."

Well.

Nothing except, the mental image of his face twisted in anticipation. Eye flaring with the other squeezed shut, hips arched up in enticing anticipation for touch, for relief, for release, for-

"Fuck, dammit," You grumbled as your hand winced, and you relaxed your grip around the pen. Perhaps Silco wasn't wrong about your mindlessness, you said as you plopped the book on your lap. Head resting on the headboard, you stretched out your fingers as you gazed at the page in front of you.

You didn't regret it, although you were sure Silco would either raise a brow and politely distance himself from you if he ever saw it, or immediately burn such damning evidence of him in any sort of vulnerable state. In person, any vulnerability was hidden beneath shirt-collars and suitcuffs, behind glares and that glowing, flaming red eye to pierce those in place until he had need for them to move.

But those were a visual he gave to those outside, in Zaun and those foolish enough to cross him from Piltover. Then there visuals he gave you, burning in your brain, only settled when put to paper.

Flicking away from the more graphic of your artwork, you caught smiles on the next page. Rare, fleeting ones, that were able to twist into a wicked-smirk in a moment's notice, but the evidence that they existed was clear on the pages.

Another few flicks, and you let out an audible chuckle at the next memory you had raced to put to pen. Silco's hair was practically an entity of itself, able to be poised and dignified one second, ragged and ruffled in every which direction in the next.

But there was something almost charming about the way it could stick-up after being towel-dried, that had to be put to paper.

It made him look... spiky.

Chuckles melted into a sigh as you took a peek at one of your earliest works. Again, vulnerability was a rare look for Silco. But in sleep, there was abundance of it, and though you admit your art wasn't quite a masterpiece when you first started putting your mental images of this man onto paper, you trace the curve of his face on the pages. Lax, but wrinkles smoothed and dull aches fading for a brief moment.

It'd been what inspired you to grab the book in the first place, as a matter of fact. Silco often awoke before you, meaning the true rarity of those moments where he seems totally wholly in peace, were basically impossible to catch in the moment. It had been a look you had to commit to paper, if even only for your eyes. While it may have been burned into your memory, you needed a physical recollection of it to see it.

Silco, relaxed or in true, honest-to-Gods, restfulness.

A few more page flicks, and another snicker.

Silco, scowling but more exasperated than annoyed, as he peels off a paint-splattered coat.

Another page-flick, this one softening your smile.

His hand firmly clasped in yours as he leans an elbow across the dining table. You've often thought about coloring in the pages, for you watched to capture the detail of the red-wine matching the dark fiery hue of his eye, while the other glints at you with a look he shared with no one else.

Another page flick, and you swallow. Feel your thighs rub together as you shuffle on the bed.

You never forget for a moment, what a physical marvel Silco's body is.

But it's always nice to have a reminder, even when your mind keeps the images tight in your mind, the study of his physique on page is something you enjoy coming back to. Lean, sharp, imposing even in a slimmer stature, it's not just the face nor infamous eye that attracts the sight, but how his expressive visage seems to reflex the rest of this body.

Sweet Janna, is this man expressive.

Lips biting down, nails digging and clawing into sheets or into your skin. You outline the detail where you drew of his knuckles strained, from where he gripped your leg to hoist high onto his shoulder as he pounded into you.

Gritted teeth and sweat shining on the remaining brow, as he rocks into you, gazing down to where your bodies were joined. You think you captured his expression of pleased possessiveness well, for your breath catches just from seeing the image on paper.

Swallowing again, you close your eyes and tilt your head back with a small exhale as you force the grip on your pen to relax. The stings return from under the bandage and you force a slow inhale at the pain. Perhaps Silco had a right idea to let your hands rest... but there was some details missing, that you mind wouldn't allow you your hands to rest until you committed them to page...

The ballpoint of the pen just barely-touched the surface, before long fingers curled over the top of the book, and pulled it from your grasp.

The shriek you gave was quite embarrassing, but Silco's dry look didn't break for a second as you lunged for it, his hand slightly out to catch you. "I thought I said to give the paperwork a rest for a night," His voice was on the urge of being cross, expression only growing flatter at your frantic widening eyes. "I think you can survive an evening without work, darling."

"That's-" You swallowed, mind coming up blank. "It's... my diary?"

A brow rose halfway up to his hairline. But while he didn't hand it back, he also didn't look at the pages only slightly obscured by his fingers on the page, meaning there was still some hope. "... your diary?" A small nod, and you held your hands back out, not needing to fake the embarrassment on your cheeks, but forcing a smile and a careless little laugh, like he wasn't holding the bane of your existance in hand.

"Yeah! You know, jotting down notes and stuff from the day, p-putting all my little thoughts onto paper..." You stretched your smile wider and forced your hands not to jerk out when you saw his grip flex on the book. "... You don't have one?" You asked innocently.

The ruling crimelord, the man who flooded the streets with Shimmer and had an iron-grip around Zaun, looked down at you over the arch of his nose in disbelief.

Right, well... worth a shot.

Plus, it caused a distraction, and your hand jerked out to snatch it from his hand. The worst thing he could've done then occurred, when the man flicked the book up, closer to his face, and as his face melted into bewilderment at your actions, his eye caught sight of the page you had been on.

Immediately, he took a step back while your jaw clicked shut, sitting straight up and watching his expression. As expected, in the privacy of his own territory, Silco's immediate reaction was completely open bright seagreen eye widening as he pulled the book closer to his face, gaze darting over the details.

"... I... it's better than bringing a camera into bed." You joked weakly, recalling the handheld devices of Piltover-origin beginning to make their rounds in the Lanes markets. Silco did not respond verbally, his own jaw shifting as his teeth grind and you watched as he did the second-worst thing, and flicked to the next page.

"... I can see why you would consider these to be putting your personal thoughts to paper," He comments lightly enough, turning to the next page. "Because, I'm fairly certain all these are sights from your own point of view."

Face burning, you sputtered to try and find a way to respond, but are muted by his eyes glancing over to you. "No no, there's no need to dispute it." He snaps the book closed, and gives it a lazy wave in the air. "I don't think you can at this point."

You really couldn't, but that didn't mean you weren't mortified at being caught red-handed with them. His tone drawled as he spoke, but even with laissez faire look in his eye, you knew who he was.

"... I wanted to find a way to keep your hands idle for this evening," He said suddenly, seemingly changing the subject, but again, you knew him too well. "Originally, to prevent further straining of your hands. For I can imagine even the slightest provocation has caused some discomfort, and that's the last thing I'd want for you while you're healing, darling."

Pretending like you could see where exactly his calculating mind was going with this, you nodded, holding your hands in your lap and curling them tightly on top of one another- "At your sides. Palms on the bed, relax your fingers." Breath hitching, but after a beat you did as he asked. Tilting his head, Silco hummed at the sight, before trailing his unmatched gaze from you, to the book in his hand. You saw a tongue prodding the inside of his cheek in thought, which put you on edge.

Not necessarily in a bad way. But a way that you knew it was going to be a long night.

In the way that you imagined this was going to be a big of a lengthy evening for you indeed, which he confirmed with his next casual remark as he picked up a slim, small box he'd gotten from the marketplace.

"As much as I'm eager to witness your hands in action, after seeing so much work you put into this... craft, perhaps we should let them rest for an evening."

Soon, there's a hand on your shoulder as you're reclined back onto the bed. Facing the ceiling, you swallow as you felt his fingers trail on their way down, brushing over your collarbone, along your chest, over your abdomen... "Are you... upset? That I drew you?" "Furious," He confirms with a hitched breath in response from you. Partially from his words, mostly because his fingers have found the hem of your pants. "Not that the world is privy to see such talent of course, but hiding your skills from me, darling?" Silco tsked as you shuddered, bare skin soon hitting air as his palms found your thighs, nails digging into the skin once as he spread them open, before he reached over to the box.

The box containing his new favorite device, since it would indeed fit with his original, and new goals for the evening.

Keeping your hands unoccupied while it worked at you, and his own free to go through the entirety of your sketchbook, which he was very curious to see the rest of, especially after such a sneak peek...

“You have a hand for details… something I can appreciate. It’s preferable to cut to the chase in business, but in pleasure, one should take their time.” A pause, and after a moment, a click. The King of Zaun spoke under your sudden rasp for a full-breath of air into straining lungs.

“I could tell a lot of work went into these. I'm very impressed, darling,” A page flick, not quite muting the sound of your keening whine, but Silco kept his focus on the sketchbook in his hands. It was only right, he could see your skills coming to life on the pages. A foolish man he would be, to not give such work his full-attention, and while you were already getting the right amount of attention you deserved.

Though, judging by your moans and whispers of his name, you desired more. You could wait though. “How often do you think you spent on these designs?”

A series of gasps was his only reply. Granting some sense of mercy, there’s another click, and an audible sound of your body slumping back in temporary, physical relief. Devastating, as you could feel the pleasure ebbing. “An hour?” He asks, too innocently while you shudder, catching your breath. “Perhaps two? Several?”

“F-for sketches like those?” Licking your lips, you could taste the bit of salt from the sheen of sweat that was building on your face. “Fuck, S-sil… I don’t know, j-just kept going until I liked what I was seeing-!”

You are cut off with a cry, after another click. The vibrations within you were maddening, and racing you closer and closer to the pinnacle of insanity. Insanity, that you could be brought to these heights without his hands on you, or vice-versa.

It had to be an insanely erotic image, but you were too focused on chasing your release without moving your hands to care much about it now.

Again, his too-innocent tone called out over the sound of your gritted out groan and writhing on sheets, “Good to know. Perhaps I shall take inspiration from that sort of mindset, taking one's time to make art...” He smiled slightly, as he turned to the next page, finding a delightful little detail.

Your face of desperation almost matched the one you had etched into the book.

"...I wouldn't mind having a collection of your own image to look back on, darling. Self-portrait, as it were... perhaps I could inquire you on a commission of sorts?" He could wait to discuss that later. As much as he enjoyed seeing the way you had depicted him onto paper, he liked the picture of you arching up on the bed and crying out his name to be a much more beautiful image.

An image that wouldn't leave his mind for a while yet.

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#ight i'm smutted out for a couple days #someone else do the nasties i got some multi-chapter/fluff/rom-com/angst to get back to #♡#silco #arcane #arcane silco #silco x reader #my writing #mdni #sinning sunday #gender neutral reader #fanfiction #lucky!verse #art #fanartist #i don't know much about art so i hope this worked alright 👌

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helloalycia · 3 years

Text

The Wrong Lifetime – Eight // Wanda Maximoff

chapter seven | story masterlist | main masterlist | wattpad | chapter nine

author’s note: Y/C/N = your cousin’s name, also this is later than I wanted today but i’ve been super busy so sorry for that! Also, I’ll be responding to comments from the last one as soon as I’m free. Enjoy 😊

"...okay, so now use the water to dilute the colour."

I did as Wanda said, dipping my brush in the glass of water and diluting the watercolour I was using, but I must have used too much because it made the paint run and then the paper started to get too damp to hold together.

Wanda facepalmed, sighing as I smiled sheepishly.

"My bad...?"

She glared playfully before ripping a page from her sketchbook. "Try again, milaya (darling). And use less water this time."

I squinted in the sun as I glanced at her. "Can't you just accept I'm not very good at painting? Or art in general?"

She shook her head, taking the torn page from my grasp and replacing it with a new one. "No way. You're not getting out of it that easily. It's not hard, I promise!"

I groaned lightheartedly. "You said that about drawing. And about using acrylics. And about using chalk."

"And I'm saying it about this, now c'mon, try again," she encouraged with an amused smile before returning to her own painting.

We were sat in my garden, hanging out and making the most of the lovely day we were having. The Spring breeze was getting warmer as we transitioned into Summer and it was a nice change of pace from the usual bad weather we had. So nice that Wanda wanted to do some painting and also teach me how to. But art was never my strong suit and I'm sure she knew that but still proceeded to try anyway.

Sketching out the tree before us for the third time today, I attempted to provide an outline that I could eventually fill in with green watercolours. Unlike Wanda though, it wasn't fun. My eyes veered over to her and I smiled to myself as I admired the look of concentration on her face – her 'art' look, I dubbed it. It was this very specific expression she got whenever she worked on a painting or drawing, and it always reminded me of that first time I saw it, after we met in the stationary store and when she took me back to her room. Absolutely wonderful.

"I don't hear a pencil moving," she said, not looking up but beginning to smile.

"That's because I'm looking for... what did you call it?" I racked my brain, thinking back to the day in the store when she talked about inspiration. "Vdokhoventi?"

A sharp exhale escaped her lips as she finally lifted her gaze to meet mine. Attempting not to laugh, she tilted her head adorably. "Vdokhnoveniye."

I quirked a brow. "Is that not what I said?"

She giggled, shaking her head. "Definitely not."

I grinned, shrugging. "Well, that's what I meant."

She rolled her eyes playfully. "I'm not it, so eyes on your page."

"Oh, how dearly mistaken you are, love," I said quietly, leaning close and giving her a knowing smile.

She looked up, expression softening with a smile. Her eyes were heavenly, pupils dilated as she squinted in the sun, and they flickered to my lips before she settled on nudging me in the shoulder slightly. I snickered, leaning my head on her shoulder since everybody thought we were as close as best friends, so it wouldn't look suspicious. She sighed contently, letting me watch as she moved her paintbrush, painting a flower that was peeking through the grass we were sat on.

I could have stayed there forever, in that moment, sitting with Wanda and watching her paint under the sun. But of course, all good things come to an end when you don't want them to.

"Y/N, dear," I heard my father call, and when I looked up, I saw him approaching Wanda and I from the direction of our house.

Straightening up, I watched as he attempted to sit on the grass, but his legs were too long and he struggled to cross them. With a hearty chuckle, he stretched them out, slightly bent, and leaned on his hands.

"I'm getting too old for this, ladies," he said humorously, making Wanda and I smile.

"What d'you need, dad?" I asked, raising my brows.

"I just wanted to check in and see if you were ready for tonight," he said casually, making me furrow my brows. He seemed to notice my confusion, prompting, "Tonight? Your cousin's birthday party?"

"My cousin's what-now?"

He sighed, massaging the point between his brows. "Y/C/N? They organised this months ago. We're all expected to be there." His glanced to Wanda. "You, too, dear."

Wanda hummed, pulling her gaze from her painting and looking to my dad. "Yes, I'm aware. Got my dress ready and everything."

My eyes snapped to Wanda's with surprise. "You knew about this?!"

"You should be more like her," my dad muttered, as Wanda smiled with a hint of mischief in her eyes.

I looked back to my father. "I was planning on helping Y/B/N with his manuscript tonight."

My dad waved his hand. "I've already talked to him. He's agreed to work on it before the party starts so you're both on time."

I groaned, already tired at the sound of yet another party. Did it ever end?

"Don't be late," he ordered, though his voice was anything but stern. Cue another groan. He smiled before looking to Wanda's painting. "Wow, that's great, dear. Apparently you've got Y/N here attempting to do the same?"

Wanda chuckled as she handed him my several failed attempts. "Key word being 'attempting'."

He accepted the pages and stifled a smile of amusement. "Wow... maybe you should stick to writing, Y/N."

I ripped the pages from his grasp. "Cheers, dad, really."

He laughed before leaning forward and kissing my forehead. "It's all in good faith, dear. Now remember. Don't be late tonight, okay?"

I sighed, which he took as my response, before pushing himself off the grass with a grumble. Dusting his trousers, he nodded to Wanda and I before leaving us be.

"You could've told me I had yet another party to attend tonight," I told Wanda with narrowed eyes.

She shrugged, smiling helplessly. "I thought you knew."

I laid back on the grass with a dramatic sigh. "I just don't understand why our life revolves around extravagant parties, balls and dinners."

"That's just how it is, moya lyubov' (my love)," she said with a warm smile.

I looked up at the sky, raising my hand to shield the sun from my eyes, though my heart fluttered at one of the many nicknames she called me in Russian. "I'd rather live in the middle of nowhere. Where nobody expects anything of me and there's no stupid parties to attend."

She rested a hand on my leg before laying beside me, leaning her head on my shoulder. I relaxed my head on hers, appreciating how well we fit together.

"Same here," she agreed, making me gasp playfully.

"What? Don't you love the glitz and glamour?"

She laughed quietly. "I do, but I like the peace and quiet more."

I breathed out, fingertips brushing hers. "Maybe I can be a little late tonight... accidentally run over time so I don't have to stay as long."

Her fingers tugged on mine between us as a warning. "No. I'll be left alone and I'll be bored. And when I'm bored, I drink."

It was my turn to laugh. "You won't be alone, Wanda. You'll have Pietro."

She shifted so she was no longer leaning on my shoulder but instead tilting her head to look my way. "I want you."

I turned my head and gave her a small, promising smile. "I'll try to be on time."

She quirked a brow. "Try? You will."

My eyes flittered away, ready to argue otherwise, but she sat up and grabbed her paintbrush. I sat up, too, ready to tell her I would try, but I flinched when she flicked water towards me from the tip of it.

"Are you serious?" I asked, wiping the water from my eyelids with tongue-in-cheek.

She chuckled and I grabbed my paintbrush and did the same, watching her squirm when it flicked on her face.

Suppressed smile on her face, she wiped away the water and glared with dazzling eyes. "You shouldn't start what you can't finish, milaya (darling)."

Smiling from ear to ear, I quirked a brow devilishly. "Oh?"

"You're so lucky we're in front of people," she said lowly, leaning close enough to be platonic, but her hand slipped under my dress and creeped up my leg, making me involuntarily shiver. "Or you would be in serious trouble."

I stopped her hand from going any higher, the rings on her fingers cold enough for me to not melt under her touch. "I highly doubt that, love."

She held my gaze, intoxicating and mesmerising all at once. A sly smile tugged at her lips as she said, "Don't test me then. You heard your father. Don't be late."

I exhaled, licking my lips. "Fine. I won't be."

—

Later that afternoon, I found myself sat in my brother's study as the two of us worked on his latest manuscript together. It was a love story, his (my) specialty, and I was helping him to sort out his sentence structure when he decided to question me.

"Will you entertain me for a moment?" he asked randomly, making me look up from the pages.

"I'll probably regret it, but go on," I said jokingly, before looking back down and adding some notes to the paper.

His chair creaked as he leaned back, eyes watching me thoughtfully. "Are you in a secret relationship?"

I almost choked on my spit as he asked this, heart dropping to my stomach with panic. He couldn't know about Wanda, right? We'd been so careful.

Thankfully, I played it off well as I merely glanced his way before distracting myself with note-taking.

"Why would you think that, Y/B/N?" I asked like he was insane.

He shrugged in my peripheral. "I don't know... I've been wondering for a while. You've just loosened up so much more. And you're not as uptight as you usually are."

"Cheers," I said sarcastically.

He leaned forward, head resting in his palm. "This all happened right about the time I met Wanda..."

I swallowed hard, quirking a brow at him to play down my panic.

"I saw you with Pietro the other week," he continued, and I could finally breathe when I realised what he was insinuating. "I'm happy if you're happy, Y/N, but I'm not a fan of you sleeping with my publisher."

At that thought, I shuddered and proceeded to shove Y/B/N on the arm. "Don't say that. And I would never."

Just your fiancé, I thought guiltily.

"Good," he said with relief, straightening up. "Because you're not supposed to do that until you get married."

I rolled my eyes dismissively in response, but wondered if that still applied in a world where one was not allowed to marry the person they loved.

Y/B/N gave me a reassuring glance. "Look, I'm okay with it, I guess. But I'd appreciate the heads up so I can give him a stern talking to."

Realising there was a hint of mirth in his voice, I looked up and gave him a warning look. "Don't you dare."

He laughed, patting me on the back, to which I shrugged off with annoyance.

"It's the Maximoff charm," he commented knowingly. "The twins have that effect on people, don't they? Wanda sure has it on me."

A short silence fell after he said that and I chewed on my lip curiously, unable to stop myself from speaking until it was too late.

"Is her love reciprocated?"

He looked down to me from his daydream, no doubt of Wanda. "Pardon?"

Knowing there was no backing down from the conversation now, I avoided his eyes. "The engagement between you both was arranged... you're clearly in love with her, but is it returned?"

His lips twitched into a frown. "I'd hope so."

I hummed, diverting my attention away from him and to the pen in my hand.

"Why? Did she say something?" he asked, voice laden with worry.

"Of course not," I reassured him.

"But you'd tell me if she did?" he asked eagerly.

I looked his way and saw him peering down at me, hanging onto my response. I nodded lamely, which seemed to put him at ease as he sank into his chair with relief.

We spent the next few hours working on the manuscript without a hitch, but I noticed the time and realised the party was already in full swing. Wanda's words came to mind and I hoped she wouldn't be too annoyed at my lateness.

"We're wrapping it up now, don't worry," Y/B/N said, noticing me check the clock. "Thanks for the help. I'm gonna get this to my editor tomorrow. Your amendments should help make the process go a lot smoothly."

I hummed in response, feeling a heaviness settle on my shoulders as he mentioned his editor. It was always the same routine – I helped him with his manuscript, he got it edited, got his book published and got all the credit. And I was stuck in the same position, wishing I could do the same.

"What is it?" he asked with a sigh, sensing my mood.

Playing with the corner of the manuscript, I met his gaze. "I help you with your writing, but I never get anything from it."

"You get to help me," he pointed out, not seeing the issue. "Isn't that enough?"

Pietro's offer came to mind as I said, "What if I wrote my own book? And got published with my name on the cover?"

He squinted as he studied me, trying to find the humour in my words. Letting out a laugh, he shook his head.

"Y/N, that's absurd."

I raised my eyebrows hopefully. "I mean, is it? Would that be so bad?"

He pressed his lips together and breathed out through his nose. Resting a hand on my shoulder, he gave me a condescending look.

"I'm saying this because I care," he said, making me feel like crap. "But yes."

As if I didn't already know the answer, I asked, "Why?"

He motioned with his hand like it was obvious. "Because. People would look at you differently. You'd be undesirable. You know men don't like smart women. I'm just looking out for you as your brother."

I looked away, the bitterness at his words stinging more than usual. "Well, I like smart women."

Thinking I was joking, he chuckled. "Don't go saying things like that. One might misinterpret."

My teeth pressed into my lower lip hard, trying to contain my frustration.

"You can do this every now and then," he said, referring to the manuscript, "but any more isn't possible. Besides, two authors in one family? That's insane."

I forced a smile, but I wondered if his last comment was the real reason he wouldn't let me at least try to get published.

"Anyway, never mind that," he said indifferently. "We should probably head out. Dad is not going to be pleased. Especially since I promised we wouldn't be late."

I nodded, sliding my chair out and wanting to be anywhere but here right now. "Yeah, come on."

He gave me a sneaky smile. "Can't wait to see Pietro?"

I slapped him on the arm before standing up, ignoring his laughter. Nothing to make an already-depressing night worse than going to a party you didn't care for.

—

Wanda Maximoff was a very difficult drunk to be around, I'd learnt that the hard way.

As soon as Y/B/N and I rolled up to my cousin's house, a third of the guests were drunk and the rest were tipsy. A typical Y/L/N get-together. Y/B/N was instantly dragged away by some family whilst I was quick to make myself scarce, attempting to find Wanda. But the place was bustling with people and there were way too many rooms to check.

I found Pietro before I found his twin, as he was poking around party favours on a table in the corner, attempting to make out what were in the bags.

"If you're expecting a brand new fountain pen, you won't find it in there," I teased, making him jump.

He sighed when he looked my way, realising it was me. "I know that. But there's nothing better here to do, so I may as well know what freebies we'll be getting by the end of it."

I smirked. "Anything good?"

He shrugged, seeming disappointed. "Just some chocolate and perfume samples."

Holding back a smile, I said, "How tragic."

"If you're looking for my sister, she's over there," he said, nodding behind me. "You'll love this one."

"What do you mean?" I asked, brows knitted with confusion, before turning around and following his gaze.

Wanda was indeed stood on the other side of the dining room and I could just about make her out between idle guests. She was chatting to some woman, hands moving erratically and with expression, a grin on her lips.

"What is she doing?" I asked unsurely, tearing my eyes from her and looking to Pietro.

He was withholding laughter as he answered, "Sometimes, dear Y/N, my beloved twin sister gets drunk when she's–"

"Bored," I finished, remembering what she told me this morning. My face dropped as I mumbled, "Uh-oh."

"Uh-oh indeed," Pietro said, grinning at his sister's dismay. "Drunk Wanda is a very truthful Wanda. So, any secrets of hers will most definitely be revealed tonight."

Pietro was too caught up in his own amusement to notice my eyes widening.

"One of our servants made me a platter a few years ago," Pietro explained, oblivious to my panic. "It was a delicious cheese platter, the cheese having been imported from France. Then, Wanda proceeded to eat it without telling me. When I asked if she did, she lied. And I only discovered she lied because she got drunk a few weeks later and bragged about how good the cheese was."

Continuing to ramble, though this time in Russian, Pietro complained about said incident, though I wasn't listening as I watched Wanda talk to the woman enthusiastically. I could only imagine what secrets she was sharing.

"Pietro!" I cut him off, earning his attention. "Shouldn't you do something? To stop Wanda?"

The cheese platter story long forgotten, his grin reappeared on his lips. "Nah, it's funny watching her make a fool of herself."

I gave him a look of disbelief before looking back to Wanda, who was laughing at something by herself. The woman she was speaking to seemed partially confused, but smiled to be polite. I gulped, before shaking my head.

"I'm not that mean," I said to Pietro before making a move to stop her.

Pietro booed me playfully, but I ignored him and approached the drunk brunette, managing to catch her conversation.

"–and they're usually such catty bitch–"

"Wanda!" I immediately cut her off, bumping into her side slightly to get her attention. "There you are!"

Green eyes widened with excitement as they met mine. "Y/N! You're here!"

Ignoring her, I wrapped an arm around her shoulder and tugged her close before looking to the guest she was talking with.

"My apologies for her behaviour," I said with an awkward smile, hoping Wanda hadn't revealed anything suspicious.

"No need to apologise, dear," the woman said with an amused smile. "Wanda here was telling me all about how lovely of a sister-in-law you are. Or will be."

Wanda grinned, looking to me and leaning in so close that her nose brushed my cheek. "Yeah, she is," she continued to the woman, though her eyes were on mine. "She's sweet, not like other people make out their sister-in-laws to be."

My face was warm as I cleared my throat and smiled once more to the woman. "If you'll excuse Wanda and I."

The woman barely got out a nod before I dragged Wanda away, trying to keep her lips away from my neck (she was also an extremely clingy drunk). Tugging her into the bathroom down the hall, I closed the door behind us and released a breath of relief, grateful for the escape from guests.

"You look very sexy when you're worried," Wanda complimented, stepping forward and smiling dazedly.

"Wanda–"

She placed her hand on my jaw, moving closer so that her lips were grazing mine as she mumbled, "You came late, milaya (darling). But I still love you."

I'd like to say that I had the willpower to push her away and scold her for acting so obvious about us before, but my lips went numb as she captured them between hers. I could taste the alcohol on her lips as she moved them against mine, making me dizzy and forgetting what I was going to say. Her thumb caressed my jaw and I relaxed under her touch, hands resting on her chest. When she tried to part my lips with her tongue, I seemed to come to my senses.

"Wanda, you're drunk," I muttered, pushing her back gently.

She chased down my mouth again, sucking on my lip and tilting my head back so she could have better access. I tried not to let her win as I kissed her briefly before pulling away. Clouded hazel eyes met mine with a matching smirk.

"You're such a tease," she whispered, her accent thicker than usual and making my stomach flip uncontrollably. Her thumb traced my lips as she continued, "You shouldn't do that when I already know how you taste, moya lyubov' (my love)."

The way she was staring at me made me flustered in place, and she seemed to notice her effect on me as she winked my way.

Shaking my head and trying not to let her win, I said, "Look, Wanda. I'm sorry for being late. But did you really have to get drunk?"

She shrugged, leaning her weight on my shoulder with her hand. "If you hadn't kept me waiting, then I wouldn't have."

I sighed, looking to her apologetically. "I didn't realise the time."

A permanent troublesome smile was fixed on her lips as she watched me.

"Your brother told me how you can be when you get drunk," I said with mild concern, hoping she'd register my seriousness. "You need to be careful, Wanda. We can't have people finding out about us."

"It seems to me," she began agonisingly slowly, lacing her arms around my shoulders, "that you'll have to watch me all night to make sure I don't do anything out of line."

Determined not to play into her teasing, I maintained her gaze with a stern stare. "It seems I'll have to."

She bit her lip, eyes flickering between mine, before leaning further into my ear. In a whispered voice, she said, "That means you can't leave my side, printsessa (princess)."

I clenched my jaw, ready to agree, but a gasp escaped my lips as hers sucked on my earlobe, teeth nibbling on the sensitive skin. Stupid Wanda and her stupid flirting and stupid attractiveness.

"Wanda!" I scolded, though my cheeks were flushed as I pushed her away gently.

She laughed adorably, the sound making my heart skip a beat. "What?"

"You have to behave," I told her, swallowing hard and trying not to let her teasing smile get to me. "You can't do this out there. Okay?"

"Okay," she agreed in a way that wasn't reassuring in the slightest.

I rolled my eyes before grabbing her hand and leading her back outside the bathroom, returning to the party. I wasn't planning on leaving her side for the rest of the evening, even if Y/B/N wanted to be with her. The last thing I wanted was for her cute drunken self to reveal something she couldn't take back.

To my relief, she kind of behaved after that. There were times when she would get a little too touchy to be platonic, but a quick stare set her straight. Y/B/N wasn't around much, as when he did join us, he was immediately pulled away by some family friends who wanted to discuss his books. For once, I was glad he was an author, afraid of what would happen if Wanda got too comfortable in his presence.

At one point though, he was able to join Wanda, Pietro and I at a standing table, relief flooding his expression when nobody called after him. His arm wrapped around Wanda's waist and he kissed the top of her head, making me look the other way with distaste. She scrunched her nose up at the action before distracting herself with a drink. I gave her a knowing look, having told her earlier to stop with the alcohol. She pretended not to see me.

"Sorry I've not been able to spend time with you tonight," he said to Wanda, oblivious to her tipsy state.

"It's almost like it's your birthday and not your cousin's," Pietro joked, smiling at him.

My brother chuckled. "I guess. They just all wanna talk about my manuscript."

"Ah, yes, the reason you were late, right?" Wanda asked, eyes falling to mine.

"I'm sorry," my brother apologised, assuming it was him she was speaking to.

"You were helping him, too, right?" Pietro asked, looking to me curiously. "Maybe I'll finally get a glance at your work."

I narrowed my eyes at him, having figured he'd put the subject to rest after last time. He merely grinned in response, finding joy in messing with me, just like his sister. Before I could say anything, my brother beat me to it.

"Don't be getting any ideas. It's just a hobby." He smiled forcefully, before glancing at me. "Isn't it, Y/N?"

So he was jealous. Wow.

"You don't need to hide your relationship, y'know," he continued when I didn't respond, looking to Pietro.

The silver-haired publisher choked on his drink as he looked to my brother, clearly very amused.

"I know you're together," Y/B/N said with agitation. "Everybody does. And don't get me wrong, Pietro, I respect you as a publisher."

I groaned quietly, closing my eyes with embarrassment. When I opened them, Pietro was watching my brother with an entertained smile, meanwhile, Wanda was looking between them with a twitching frown.

"But if you're going to date my sister, you should do it the right way," my brother continued stupidly. "It's not appropriate to have whatever this is." He motioned between us with his hands. "It's wrong."

I jumped when Wanda's hand slipped to my arse, squeezing it gently. Thankfully, our backs were to a wall so nobody would have noticed behind us, but I instantly glared at her and removed her hand. She gave me a cunning smile, not bothered by the consequences.

"...and if you're sleeping together like I suspect," Y/B/N was saying, making me flush with humiliation, "know that our friendship is at breaking point. I can't have that blatant disrespect in my life."

Wanda continued to attempt to grab my arse, making me slap her hand away several times, all whilst trying to manage whatever conversation was happening right now.

"I can't believe you just said that," I finally spoke up, managing to keep Wanda at bay long enough. "You're such an idiot, Y/B/N! I told you I wasn't with Pietro!"

Pietro tried not to laugh as he met my brother's intimidating stare. "I value our friendship, too, Y/B/N. Which is why I can promise you I have no... relations... with your sister. I don't like her like that, I can assure you."

Wanda snorted with amusement, before hiding behind a glass of wine when everyone looked her way.

Y/B/N seemed embarrassed as he cleared his throat. "Oh."

I rolled my eyes. "Yes, oh!"

"I guess I should apologise," he said awkwardly, looking to Pietro. "I–"

"No apology necessary," Pietro cut him off, raising a hand. "I am thankful for the entertainment however."

"I'm gonna go literally anywhere else," I dismissed myself, unable to take the uncomfortable situation any longer.

Without waiting for a response, I turned on my heel and walked away. To my surprise, Wanda trailed after, falling into step with me.

I glanced at her unhappily, quirking a brow. "Can I help you?"

"Oh, don't be mad at me because your brother's an idiot," she said with a wag of her hand.

I gave her a suggestive look. "I told you to behave."

She pressed her lips together in a sheepish smile. "I'm sorry... Y/B/N was talking about you and Pietro and I– well, I don't like sharing, remember?"

The improper glint in her eye as she stopped before me, watching with amusement, made me feel warm all of a sudden. That day when she first told me that and we proceeded to make love flashed to mind, and she seemed to know as she had a mischievous look on her face.

Clearing my throat, I pointed a finger her way. "Behave."

I should have known by the devilish look in her eyes that she wouldn't.

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

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suspicious-whumping-egg · 2 years

Text

Alec and Raina Part 19.5

A brief interlude. TW for referenced past noncon and fear of death. Enjoy!

Masterlist here.

Raina was eerily gentle with Alec the next few days. She began touching him again after the first day, and Alec settled back into the routine of pretending to enjoy it. Pretending it was Dorian touching him, pretending he didn’t just keep remembering Knox’s hands on his body and his lips on his own and the way he laughed when he made Alec cry out in pain.

Yet although she’d begun to reestablish the old routine, Raina still didn’t punish him. Still didn’t hurt him but for the carelessness of how she held him close, her hands often landing on a bruise or scratch.

And her kindness terrified him. He grew more and more paranoid as Raina began leaving him alone for longer amounts of time, began making more secretive phone calls that she went outside for so he couldn’t overhear. He sat on his bed, bleeding his feelings onto his sketchbook, as his heart pounded. She’s planning to kill me, she’s figuring out how to hide the evidence, she’s gonna kill Dorian too when he finds out—

He heard the clicking of the bolt turning on his door, then Raina twisted the knob and strode into the room. He hastily shoved his sketchbook under the covers with a crinkle of pages, dashing a streak of ink onto his sheets when he dropped the pen he’d been using.

“So what’re you drawing, love?” Raina asked sweetly. “Don’t try to hide it from me, you know how I feel about keeping secrets.” Although her tone was honeyed, Alec had long-since learned to sense the underlying threat in every word, and this was no exception.

“Sorry,” he capitulated, pushing the quilt aside and opening his sketchbook with trembling fingers. Raina loomed over him to scrutinize the drawing. Hands, outlined in scribbles of red, ripped a tattered body— his body— into pieces. Black blood dripped from the edges of disembodied limbs, an eye dangled from the fingers of one of the hands, his torso split like a ripped seam where two of the hands pulled him in opposite directions.

His face reddened in shame, he could barely keep himself from snapping the sketchbook shut and running off to find a hiding place in the mansion. She knows I’m broken, she’s not gonna want to keep me—

“Poor thing,” Raina cooed. “My poor, poor boy.”

You’re one of the fuckers ripping me apart, don’t fucking go there playing innocent, he wished he could say. Instead he forced a shrug he hoped looked nonchalant. “I just need some time,” he insisted. “I’ll be okay, I— I’ll be yours again, properly, I just need some time—“

Raina pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Don’t worry your pretty little self about that,” she replied. “You’re gonna be just fine, love. Get some rest today, but change out of those pajamas. You can’t wear them forever.” She pulled out her phone and clicked the camera open, snapping a quick picture of his sketch before sliding it back into her pocket.

“Don’t post that,” he said automatically, wincing at the mere idea of his heart practically spilled to the world. “Please,” he added more desperately. “I can’t—”

“Someone’s forgetting their manners,” Raina scoffed, dragging a long nail over his jawline and forcing him to look up at her before turning away to leave. “But I won’t, it’d do no good for someone to recognize your style. I’m just going to send it around my private circle.”

“Just!?” Alec protested. “But I—” It’s mine. You can’t fucking touch it, you don’t just fucking do that—

Stinging, pleasant pain split across his face as Raina backhanded him. He had enough experience to hold in his real reaction, instead feigning guilt. “Sorry,” he muttered, although he truly was glad for the pain to ground him. “I’m just… I don’t want Knox seeing it,” he mumbled. Considering Raina had orchestrated the circumstances of the week before, Alec felt it was perfectly fair to play the “one of your friends raped me” card.

Raina smiled sympathetically, carding her fingers through his hair. “Oh, honey, I’m not showing it to him,” she cooed. “You know I wouldn’t do that. Ease up a bit, it’ll be okay. It’s nothing to get all stressed over, just a little drawing. I’m only showing them ‘cause I’m proud of you, you know that.”

Sure… Alec thought bitterly. But he simply nodded along, trying his hardest to look timid and traumatized— which required no amount of acting on his part.

Raina toyed with one of the earrings on his nightstand, a teardrop ruby set in a thick rim of pure gold. “Aw, you look so sad. Don’t tell me you’re still dwelling on it. It’s time to move on, alright? How ‘bout this? I’ll have Dorian over today so you can get to see him, will that cheer you up? Then we can just forget about all of this mess?”

Your best friend assaulted me and you want me to just forget? You think it’s my fault for ‘dwelling’? And now you’re sending my boyfriend over for our last goodbyes?! But considering who he was talking to, her words barely even came as a shock. “Sure,” he replied despondently. “I’ll, uh, I’ll try to move on. And I do want to see him. Thank you.”

The words were clipped and sharp, yet Raina just nodded. “I know it’s been hard on you, love,” she told him. “You’ve just gotta keep trying. It won’t be much longer.”

Longer!?

Alec’s suspicions were confirmed— he was fucked.

~~~

Taglist: @hopepetal @bastard-illusionist @painsandconfusion @dont-touch-my-soup @infinite-olives @onlywhump @warm-my-whumpee-heart @yesthisiswhump @crimson-wrld

#blue writes #alec and raina #alec is a twink #raina is a girlboss #whump writing #whump #referenced noncon

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totallysharkycomplete · 3 years

Text

Waiting For You Part Six (Ford Pines x Reader) Home In Your Arms

She awoke before the dawn as usual. Under the blankets was warm. Although the boat was cold Ford’s body, which was firmly pressed against hers, provided plenty of heat. The gentle swaying of the boat would have made it easy to fall back asleep, but since the weather was supposed to be clear today, she decided to get up and watch the sunrise.

Gently slipping out of the covers, and out of Ford’s grasp, she quickly dresses into more layers before quietly stalking up on the deck. She could still hear the heavy breaths and snores coming from the cabin below. The deck was even colder than the cabin, and there was a layer of frost on the upper windows. She quickly made a cup of coffee then downed it, then leaned against the front railing, and waited for the sunrise as the clouds on the horizon turned pink.

She was lost in thought, so when someone wrapped their arms around her waist she jumped. The person behind her chuckled and she let out a sigh.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Ford’s lips are right next to her ears, his stubble is scratchy on her skin.

She lets out a hum, then turns around in his arms to face him. “You could still be sleeping.”

He begins to plant gentle kisses to her cheek. “Couldn’t without you.”

She giggles and places a hand on his cheek, her thumb runs over his stubble.

“Why are you up so early?” He almost whines against her skin, still leaving soft kisses on the small amount of skin exposed on her cheeks and upper neck.

She let out a content sigh. “Weather is supposed to be clear. I wanted to watch the sunrise. Would you like to join me?”

He moves his head up and presses his forehead to hers. “I’d love to.”

She leans forward the inch she needs to so she can plant a kiss on Ford’s lips. It’s soft, but conveys so many feelings. Love, affection, the sense of being home.

Ford tries to lean forward for another kiss but she quickly turns around. He lets out an exasperated sigh.

“Sorry, but the sun rises this way.” She teases.

Ford’s hand is on the back of her neck, moving the hair away from it so he can press more kisses to her skin.

“You’re in a very touchy mood this morning.” She comments, leaning her back against his chest.

“Do you want me to stop?” He murmurs, lips still on her skin.

“No,” she quickly tells him. “Just an observation.”

He leaves a few more kisses on her skin before her hand wraps around his. “Ford, look.”

The sun had just peaked above the horizon, brilliant oranges and yellow began to fill the sky, casting warm rays of light on the small sleepy fishing village they had docked near. Soon the warm rays fell onto her face. “Isn't it beautiful?”

“Not more so than you.” Ford tightens his grip around her waist and rests his chin against the top of her head.

She’s glad Ford can’t see the blush on her face. Even after thirty plus years had passed, he could still make her blush. She was about to say something modest back to Ford until she heard a burp and scratching noises.

“Ugh, get a room.” Stanley had obviously joined them on deck.

“We have a room.” She rolls her eyes. “I think you forget we share sometimes. Your memory is slipping old man.” She teases without moving from Ford’s grip.

“Yeah, yeah.” He waves her comment away before heading inside the upper cabin to the coffee she had prepared.

There's a moment of peace, you might almost call it pure bliss. To spend the sunrise wrapped in your lover's arms, their warm breath leaving them in clouds of hot air, the boat gently rocking them as the morning tide rolled in.

“Everytime I wrap my arms around you, it feels like coming home all over again, to where I belong.” Ford whispers.

She turns to face him again and cups his face with both her hands, and kisses the tip of his nose. “When did you become so romantic?”

Ford leans into her touch. “I mean it.” He pauses for a second. “I don’t think I ever told you, but when I first came back and saw you, my first thought was that I had died and gone to heaven. Being with you again is everything I’ve ever wanted and more.”

“If you had died and gone to heaven then that would have meant Stan was in your heaven too.” She laughs.

“He’s still her now.” He grabs her hand to hold it still so he can tilt his head and kiss her thumb.

She laughs even louder this time, then wraps her arms around his neck to draw him into another kiss. “I love being in your arms. I love being your home, because you’re mine too.”

The boat rocks them gently as the morning sun warms their bodies. Their hearts are full of love for one another. “Let’s stay like this forever, and just let the world drift away.”

Ford is about the respond before Stan interrupts.

“Hey love birds! We gonna explore some anomalies today or what?” Stan barks from behind them.

Ford's eyebrows furrow and he goes to turn his head to snap at Stanley, but her hands catch his chin and turn his face back to her. She kisses him passionately three times and he’s breathless. She untangles herself from Ford and heads towards Stan.

“What’s on the agenda for today co-captain Stanley?” She smiles.

Ford is left standing there speechless and in a daze.

“Are you coming, co-captain Ford?”

Ford looks over at her. She squinting her eyes as the morning sun washes over her features, her cheeks pink from the cold. He has never been more in love with her.

“Coming, associate co-captain.”

---------- By the time the sun was high in the sky he three of them had docked the boat and climbed halfway up the mountain. The town folks had told them about strange flying creatures that lived near the top of the mountain.

The sun beat down on them, and they soon found themselves needing to take off some of the many layers of winter clothes they had dressed in for the day. About an hour into the hike Stan speaks up.

“Hey poindexter, how bout a break?” He huffs as he wipes sweat from his brow.

“We’re very close to where the creatures were reported being seen.” Ford is warm, sweat gleams on his brow, but his attitude is chipper and he’s not as nearly out of breath.

“Even the kid needs a break.” Stan motions towards her.

She rolls her eyes at Stan still calling her a kid. She’s also out of breath, almost as bad as Stan. The high altitude is getting to her, but she wouldn’t voice it.

Ford places a hand on her shoulder. “What do you think? Would you like to take a short rest.”

She smiles and nods. “Let’s take a short rest. We wouldn’t want Stan passing out on us.”

Stan grunts but doesn’t say anything. Glad to finally have a break from hiking. The three of them sit on the ground and drink their water. Ford is sitting as close as he can to her. She shivers as a cold breeze blows past them, feeling a little cold now that they have stopped moving. Ford wraps an arm around her shoulder, she looks up at him and smiles a wordless thank you.

After a few minutes they stand up and begin to get moving again. She groans as she stretches, and once they start moving again she is behind both the boys on the path.

“You alight? You’re normally faster than me.” Stan turns his head to talk to her while they move up the narrow mountain path.

“I’m fine, my legs are just a bit sore.” She tells him.

They continue their hike until they break through the tree line. They can see the horizon on the sea, and far below them is the small fishing village where they left the Stan O’ War II docked.

She’s stunned by the beautiful view and almost doesn’t realise Stan and Ford haven’t stopped walking like she had. She scurries to catch up to them, until she sees a bush near her shake. Looking over she sees a small head of a rat pop out.

“Aww.” She says softly to not scare the rodent away. “Hey little fella.” She coos.

The rat scurried back into the bush at the sound of her voice, much to her disappointment. She turns to catch up to the boys, After a few steps she hears a strange sound. Somewhere between a squeak and a squawk. Turning around she sees the rat has raised itself out of the bush with a pair of wings. This must be the creature they had been looking for!

“Fascinating!” She says to herself and pulls out her sketchbook and begins to jot down a quick doodle on the animal. The sun catches on her silvery pen and flashes a light up at the rat-like creature. It squawks loudly then dives towards her.

Further up the path Ford is mumbling to himself and Stan is tuning him out. Both of them freeze when they hear a shriek. They both stop dead in their tracks and whip around to see she is no longer behind either of them. The brothers share a second of a glance before booking it back down the trail.

It doesn’t take them long to get back to her. When she comes into sight they can see she's using one arm to shield her face, the other is holding her notebook and waving it aimlessly behind her, trying to hit the creature that’s attacking her hair.

Stan is the first to her, he pulls her to his chest with one arm and throws a left hook at the creature, sending it crashing into a tree. There's a moment of silence before Ford is pulling her into his arms. Stan makes his way over towards the tree.

“What happened? I thought you were right behind us?” Ford’s hands are on her face, tilting her head around and looking for any sign of injury. Her hands rest on his chest.

“Ford, I’m okay, promise. You were both further up the path when I noticed the creature. I thought if I called to you I’d scare it off. So I tried to get a quick sketch, and I must have scared it because it started attacking my hair.” She can’t help as a laugh escapes her.

“You could have been hurt.” Ford’s voice is soft as he scoulds her.

“But I wasn’t.” She teases.

“Please promise me you won’t go off on your own again? I don’t know what I’d do if you got hurt.” Ford told her seriously.

She stops smiling when she realises Ford is actually upset, not with her, but by the fact she could have been hurt. She takes his hands, which were still on her face, and holds them in hers. She leans up and gives him a soft, reassuring kiss.

“I promise.” She whispers.

“Check this out!” Stan shouts and holds the unconscious ratbird in between them by its feet.

She shrieks with surprise and jumps away from Ford. “Stanley that’s disgusting!”

“What!? I thought you like rodents!” He laughs, shaking the bird closer towards her as she takes another step back.

“I wouldn’t pick up a wild rat or bird with my hands, or let it that close to my face! Who knows where that thing has been!” She scolds him. “If it wakes up and bites you I’m not helping you.”

In the commotion Ford slipped on some protective gloves from his pack. “Hold it still please Stanley.” Stan complies and Ford gently stretches its wings open and begins to list off observations about it that she quickly sketches down. “It’s wingspan is too small to carry it far. That’s probably why it is native only to this island.” He lists other things off like teeth size and tail length.

Stan gently set the animal down. “Think that’s enough for today right?”

The other two agree and they begin their trek back down the mountain. She is in front of them now to set the pace, and so the boys can’t lose sight of her. When the path begins to get wider, Ford falls back a bit to walk besides Stan.

“Thank you for earlier.” Ford tells his brother.

Stan looks at him confused. “Didn’t do nothing.”

“You were able to get to her first and protect her from the rat bird.” Ford reminds him.

Stan waves it off. “Don’t mention it.” Stan wouldn’t admit to Ford how scared he was to see her get attacked like that, he’d rather not think about it.

When they make it back to the ship the sun is already touching the horizon. It was Ford’s night to cook and the other two went to rest in their beds. When the food was ready Ford headed below deck to find them both asleep. He wasn’t surprised Stan had nodded off. Almost anytime he wasn’t actively moving or engaged in an activity he would fall asleep. But his believed fiance would normally be reading a book or be annotating her notes.

He gently brushes some hair out of her face and she stirs. She smiles up at him and grabs his hand and brings it down to her lips to kiss his palm. His heart flutters at her sweet act.

“I fell asleep.” She murmurs, voice heavy with sleep.

“I noticed.” He leans down to kiss her. “Are you feeling alright?”

“I feel perfect now that you’re here.” She giggles and he frowns. She frowns too, but only to mock him. “I feel fine Stanford. I guess today was just too exciting is all.”

“Well, why don’t we have dinner then we can go right back to bed?” He suggested.

“You’re perfect. I love you” She smiles up at him, eyes half lidded.

“I love you too.”

They stare into each other's eye, and neither of them notice the loud snoring has stopped. There’s a loud groan announcing Stan has awoken.

“If you love him so much why don’t you marry him?” Stan teases, she rolls her eyes.

The next morning Ford is the first to wake up. His love is tucked close to his side, buried under the blankets. He turns on his side to draw her impossibly closer. She makes a noise at the movement but doesn't awaken.

The bed feels a little warmer than normal. Maybe the day will be warmer than the forecast had predicted Ford thinks. Ford lays there for a while, enjoying the silence and warmth for a while until she begins to stir.

He feels her stretch under his grasp and she looks up at him eyes still droopy from sleep.

“Good morning my dear. Would you like to join me for some coffee?” Ford murmurs into her hair.

She shakes her head no. “It’s too cold.” She tries to burrow closer to Ford to get any extra warmth.

“I’ll go turn the heater on upstairs, join me when you’re ready.” Ford moves the hair away from her forehead and kisses her there then freezes. He moves the back of his hand to her forehead, then his cheek to confirm his thought. “You’re burning up!”

“No, it’s cold.” She denies.

“You must have a fever. Do you feel alright? When did you start feeling sick?” Ford doesn’t bother keeping his voice down and clearly wakes up his brother.

Stan rolls his eyes at the commotion and makes his way to the upper deck.

Ford quickly stands. “I’m going to get dressed then go find a doctor in town. With a town this small there must be one to make house calls.”

“Ford, please, there’s no need for that.” She sniffs, still laying in the bed, pulling the covers closer around her.

“There really isn’t.” Stan grumbled, coming back down the stairs, a cup of water in one hand. The other was full of an assortment of pills. “Take these.” He gruffly shoved both the water and pills at her. She obeyed, sat up, and quickly tooked the unknown pills Stan had handed her. “Go back to sleep.” She layed down and closed her eyes, rolling over to face the wall away from the brothers.

“What did you give her?” Ford whispered, concerned.

Stan places a finger over his lips and motions towards the upper deck. They sit inside the cabin where Stan had turned on the space heater.

“She of course came prepared and packed herself cold medicine.” Stan slides the first aid box across the table so Ford can examine the medicine boxes of everything he had given her. “Almost every winter she gets a cold or two. Her legs start to hurt and she gets really tired. Should have seen it coming’ yesterday but was a little distracted by the birds. She must have noticed, but she never says anything. Thinks she can power through a fever.” Stan pauses a moment to laugh. “There was one time I caught her working on the portal shivering and sweating’ bucket. Practically had to drag her back to bed. The older we’ve gotten through, the less stubborn she’s gotten at admitting she’s actually sick.”

It finally dawns on Ford just how much Stanley had taken care of her while he was gone. Sure, she had told Ford directly that he had, but he thought she was just putting in a good word for her friend. Ford knows it to be true now. He remembers once in college she went to class with a fever just to be sent back to her dorm. If Stan hadn’t been here to make her rest when she was sick, she would have worked herself until she passed out or worse.

The cabin is silent for a moment.

“Thank you, Stan.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“No, Stanley, listen.” Ford looks at his brother and there are visible tears in his eyes. “She had told me before that you had taken care of her in my absence. I hadn’t thought much about it, since she's always been so strong and independent. I know she's also stubborn. If you hadn’t been there to make her rest… Thank you Stanley, truly, for taking care of her while I was gone.” Ford places his hand on his brother’s shoulder and gives it a firm squeeze. Stan returns the action, not commenting on the noticeable tears.

“She’d probably be happy to have you back downstairs to keep her warm.” Stan says, looking away from his brother. He doesn't want to see him cry, or he knows he will cry as well.

“I think you’re right.” Ford stands and goes to join her back in bed.

---------- Ford wasn’t exactly excited to go to the carnival on the boardwalk, but her and Stan conveyed it would be fun.

“It’ll be like the one back home! Remember when we tried to join the circus with our pet possum?” Stan laughed a deep belly laugh as they made their way past the ticket booth.

“You never told me you had a pet possum.” She's walking next to Ford, his hand is held tight in hers.

“But he told you about trying to join the circus?” Stan inquires.

“I’d argue he was more your pet than mine.” Ford argues.

They make their way around the attractions, eat some fair food, and play a few games. She has two stuffed animals they boys had won for her in her hands, and is filled with joy.

“You there, miss, would you like to know your future?” A voice calls to her, and she turns to see a fortune teller beckoning her towards their tent. The fortune teller's eyes are glassy and they don’t hold her gaze, they hold a long cane indicating they are blind. She feels an arm tighten around her shoulder.

“Fortune tellers aren’t to be trusted.” Ford tells her.

“It’s just for fun,” she comments. “There’s no way they could actually know my future.”

“I’ve traveled to different dimensions. I think almost anything is possible at this point.” Ford reminds her.

“I say we do it. I’d like to know when I get filthy rich.” Stan begins walking into the tent.

She tried to follow in after him but the fortune teller held up their hand. “Only one person inside the tent at a time please.”

So Ford and her wait outside the tent. It’s only a few minutes later when Stan exits with a huff. “You’re right, total scam, they don't know anything.”

The fortune teller exits the tent again and points over to her and Ford. “The six fingered one next.” Then enters the tent.

A chill runs up her spine. The teller was clearly blind, but to call Ford out like that. She shares a surprised look with Ford, who surprisingly goes into the tent after them.

Stan is clearly still mad about whatever he had been told, so she takes his hand. “I’m sure whatever they said it wasn’t true. Like you said, probably just a scam.”

Stan looks down at her warm smile and sighs. “You’re right kid. Just a scam. I should know.” They both share a laugh.

Ford exits the tent looking lost in thought.

“You’re next girly.” The teller holds open the flap for the tent and she makes her way in. The room looks bigger on the inside and there are two chairs on either side of a table with a fake looking crystal ball.

She sits and watches the fortune teller places their hands on the ball and thinks for a second before speaking. The ball lights up and smoke swirls around in it. “I would ask what you’d like to know about your future, but I already know what knowledge you seek. It weighs heavy on your heart. Knowing the truth might be even more of a burden. Would you still like to know?”

She thinks for a second. If the fortune teller was being honest and knew what she wanted to know, what she always thinks about, then she wants to know. “Will Ford and Stan die before me? I don’t think I could lose Ford again, and well, Stan is my best friend.”

The teller nods their head and hums. “As I suspected. Losing the ones you love is a heavy buren. Unfortunately you must bear the burden again, fortunately you only must bear it once.”

“Who?” Her voice quivers.

“As I said, losing someone you love is difficult, as you know. He cannot see his brother lost again. He will go first. You will be needed to comfort the six fingered one. This universe isn’t always fair, but it seems it will go easy on you, and you will not have to lose him again.” They remove their hand from the ball and the lights and smoke fade. “Now you know, you must live with this knowledge the rest of your life.”

She looks down at her hands and nods, then stands to exit the tent. She finds her boys standing exactly where she left them. Still looking lost in thought and a little angry. She pulls Ford into a hug and draws him from his thoughts.

“What did they tell you?” Ford asks, returning the hug.

She rests her chin on his chest to look up at him with a small smile. “That I’ll get to spend the rest of my life with you, and that’s all I want.”

“They really tell you that?” Stan grunts, clearly not happy with what he was told.

“No,” she confesses. “But they didn’t have to say that for me to know it, and-” She turns to look back at the tent and sees it's gone. She turns quickly to confirm what she sees if real. Then turns back to the twins, whose jaws are dropped.

The three share a look then agree to head back to the ship for the night.

Stan tosses and turns that night. He can’t seem to sleep. What the fortune teller had told his replays in the back of his mind and he’s still pissed about it. He throws off the sheets and puts on his coats and boots and heads to the upper deck. To his surprise, he wasn’t alone.

“Why are you up so late kid?” Stan slumps down onto the bench by her.

“I imagine for the same reason you can’t sleep.” She leans her head against her friend with her sigh.

There's a moment of silence between them. The only sound is the waves gently crashing on the nearby shore and the soft groan of the boat as it moves gently with the sea.

“What did they tell you?” They ask in unison. They both breath out a laugh.

“You first.” She says.

He thinks for a moment. “They told me I’m going to die before you and Ford. Ford, I get, he’s healthy and in shape.” She elbows him. “Not implying you ain’t! It’s just, I didn’t want to die before you is all. I’ve caused you enough suffering.”

She places her hand on his shoulder. “Stanley, don’t think like that. You haven’t caused me any suffering. You’re my best friend.”

He runs his hands down his face. “It’s my fault Ford got lost in the portal for thirty years, it’s my fault you didn’t get to start a family with him like you had planned to. It’s my fault you didn’t get to get married yet. It’s my fault that-”

“Stanley!” She shouts sternly at him and he turns to face her, surprised by the authority in her voice. She takes his hand in hers. “Stan you can’t think like that. You know I’ve forgiven you a long time ago with what happened with Ford. The rest of it… It doesn’t matter, because if it weren’t for you I wouldn’t have him back. If it weren’t for you I wouldn’t have met the most amazing great niece and nephew ever. If it weren’t for you I wouldn’t be sailing the seas right now with the two people I care the most about in the world, discovering amazing anomalies like I’ve always wanted to.”

Stan’s face is turned from hers but he gives her hand that’s holding his a tight squeeze. There's another moment of silence. “What did they tell you?” His voice croaks, she wouldn’t mention how he reached his free hand up to wipe his tears.

“They told me about the same.” She confesses. “That you’ll die before me, but I’ll be here for Ford.”

Stan Turns back to look at her. “Do you…” Stan doesn’t really want to finish the thought. He doesn’t want to think about their mortality.

“I’ll go before Ford. They said it was the universe going easy on me.” She smiles up at Stan, but the smile doesn't reach her eyes.

He pulls her into a tight hug. “Should we tell Ford?” She sniffs as tears sting her eyes.

“No. He wouldn’t want to know.”

----------- “Do you hear that?” Stan asks.

Ford and her are both sitting at the table noses in a book in the upper cabin of the ship. She and Ford listen, share a glance with each other, then look back at Stan.

“No,” they chime in unison.

Stan is driving the boat towards their next destination where there had been reports of strange ocean tides. He smacks his ear with the hearing aid.

“I must be picking up radio waves again.” He grumbles.

An hour later the two bookworms are asleep as Stan still mans the wheel, this time he hears the sound again. His head feels hazy and his body feels warm. He turns the boat towards the sound and begins to follow it.

Ford and her are jostled awake as the ship hits a large wave. They’re both lifted for a second from their seats before landing back down with a thump.

“Stanley what the hell is happening?” Ford is the first to notice the situation. The weather around them is awful. Rain pounds onto the ship, the boat jumps as it passes over enormous waves, going faster than she's ever seen it go. Lighting and thunder crash outside. Stan should have seen the storm coming.

Speaking of Stan. He’s standing at the wheel of the ship, eyes glued forwards, he doesn’t even notice Ford yelling at him. Ford pushes Stan out of the way and he falls to the floor. Suddenly Stan sits up and looks around.

“Where the hell are we?” He asks, hand held to his head.

“We should be asking you that, seeing as you were the one driving the last two hours!” She barks before reaching under the chairs for their life vests. She tosses the boys theirs and secures her own, they quickly buckle theirs as well.

“I don’t, I don’t know what happened.” Stan looks lost for a second. “I can’t remember.”

Her heart hurts for her friend. She knows that must be scary for him but now isn’t the time for comfort. Ford begins to bark orders, she helps Stan to his feet.

They begin securing lines and sails, making sure all objects are secured down so they won’t cause the three of them harm.

Suddenly she hears a noise and freezes. Her head feels hazy and her body feels warm. It seems as if her body is moving on it’s own as she begins to walk towards the door and exits the cabin. A strong hand grabs her arm.

“What are you doing?” Ford screams over the rain. Stan had taken the wheel again.

Her eyes are glazed over and she tries to continue walking towards the railing. Ford begins to drag her back inside but she resits. She freezes and he stops trying to pull her. She turns and points.

“There.”

Ford turns to see what she’s pointing at, and it’s the largest wave he’s seen in his whole life. He quickly wraps his body around her and tries to make it back into the cabin before the wave hits, but he’s not quick enough. The water envelops their bodies and they are thrown against the railing. The ship pops back up over the waves again and Ford looks into her eyes.

She's over the railing, dangling off the ship, her only tether is Ford’s hand.

“Don’t let go! I’ve got you!” He shouts desperately holding onto her and the ship.

Her body is like a rag doll as it’s slammed into the ship with the waves. She looks back up at Ford, eyes still glazed, and lets go of his hand, falling into the inky water below.

The second her body pops back up from water her head clears. Her life jacket inflated when she hit the water. The last thing she remembers was she was on the ship with the boys. A wave overtook her and she pushed back under the water. When she comes back up she realises she hears Ford screaming.

It’s dark and all Ford can see is the automatic light on her life vest getting further and further from them. He’s screaming for her, and for Stan to move the boat in her direction.

She tries to scream for him but is pushed under water again. When her head resurfaces she struggles for a breath before the same thing happens again. Coming back up this time she sees the ship be covered by a wave, then herself. This time when she comes back up she sees the light of the ship are gone. She feels something grab her foot, and is dragged under the water.

Ford feels warmth all around him. His eyes fluttered open and he squints as rays of sun blind his eyes. Waves softly lap and his boots and he quickly sit up as the events that just unfolded flood his mind. He looks around quickly hoping to see his love, or his brother.

Stan isn’t far from him and Ford hops to his feet to run from him. He falls to his knees and sees he’s breathing, Ford begins to shake his brother. “Stanley! Are you alright?”

Stan’s hand comes up to swat his brother away. “Five more minutes.” He mumbles.

Ford doesn't hesitate to slap him across the cheek.

Stan is quick to sit up. “What the hell was that for?”

“Do you not remember what just happened?” Ford barks.

Stan’s eyes grow wide in horror. “She went overboard… Didn’t she?”

Ford slumps forward and his hands cover his face. “I had her, she was in my hands and she… She let go.”

“She let go?” Stan echos in confusion.

“She had the same look in her eyes that you did when we found you steering the ship into the storm.” Ford breathing is quick and ragged, the panic of what’s happened starts to over take him. “I… Oh god, I-,”

“Shut your yap,” Stan commands. “You hear that?”

At first all Ford can hear is the gentle crashing of the waves onto the shore, then he hears it. The distant call of a voice. A very familiar feminine voice.

Ford’s eyes frantically scan the beach both ways looking for the source when he sees her. She must have spotted him at the same time because she begins to sprint towards him. Ford is quick to his feet and meets her halfway. Ford pulls her into a crushingly tight hug as tears fill both of their eyes.

“I thought I had lost you.” He cries into her hair. “I don’t know what I would do if I had.”

“I’m okay. I’m okay.” She sobs. “We’re safe now.” She whimpers against his chest.”

They stay there in each other’s embrace, until Stan slowly walks over to them.

“Glad you’re alright kid.” Stan smiles.

She grabs Stan and pulls him into the hug. He grumbles something but hugs both of them. After a moment they pull back. Ford’s hands are still clutching the back of her wet, sandy shirt. Ford and her look at each other and share a breathy laugh, and begin to wipe the tears away from their eyes.

“Now that we’ve had that lovely reunion, where are we and where’s the ship?” Stan frowns.

“Destroyed, I'd imagine.” Ford clears his throat.

“Actually…” She takes Ford’s hand and begins to lead them down the beach the way she had come. “When I had gone overboard, my mind cleared when I hit the water. I saw the ship get taken over by a wave and thought the worst. Something grabbed my foot and dragged me under, but…”

They round the corner on the beach and see Stan O’ War II, unharmed, anchored off shore. Ford and Stan both notice some splashing around the ship that wasn’t like normal waves. The brothers share a look.

“How is it not damaged?” Ford is in awe of the vessel's perfect condition.

“Turns out, we’ve had a guardian angel this whole trip we didn’t know about.” She smiles.

“Who?” Stan asks.

“Mable.” She laughs as theirs another splash in the water, this time closer to the shore.

The brothers both see the end of a tail then a few seconds later, a head pops up.

“Ford, you might remember what Mable had written in the journal about meeting her friend, Mermando. Turns out she still writes to him and told him about our trip and asked him and his people to look out for us.” She waves over at the head that had popped up signaling to him it was safe.

“It’s the least I can do to repay my friend. If it wasn’t for her then I might still be trapped in Gravity Falls.” Mermando smiles. He had swum over to them as far as he could without leaving the water.

“A real mermaid, huh?” Stan grunts.

“Fascinating.” Ford muses.

“He and a few others were able to pull us to safety after we were lured into the storm.” She tells them.

“Lured?” Ford repeats.

“Yes, unfortunately two of you had been affected by a siren’s song. They’re like merpeople, only they crave violence.” Mermando shakes his head.

“We really can’t thank you enough.” She sighs, giving Ford’s hand a squeeze. “And please, don’t mention this to Mable. I wouldn't want her to worry.”

“She will hear nothing of it. You have my word. Farwell Pines!” And with that, Mermando splashes under the water and is gone.

“Darn it, I should have asked him some questions while I had him here.” Ford brings a hand to his mouth in thought.

She playfully shoves him. “I say we should be happy that we’re alive.”

“You know what I say?” Stan asks and begins stripping his clothes. “I say we have a beach day! Been forever since we were in a warmer climate like this!” He splashes into the water in just his underwear, leaving the other two behind.

“What do you say, my love?” Ford pulls her to his chest.

She wraps her arms around his neck. “Having a nice calm day after almost drowning to death? I think we deserve it.” She plants a soft kiss to his lips before pulling away and begins striping down to her underwear. “Race you to the water.”

Ford doesn’t have to be asked twice before he follows suit removing his clothes.

After hours of relaxing on the beach and playing in the water like children, the sun had begun to set. Stan had made his way back to the boat leaving only her and Ford on the beach.

Ford is laying on his back, her head rests against his shoulder. His arms are tightly wrapped around her. Her fingers absentmindedly trace the knit pattern on his sweater.

“I can’t believe out of anywhere I could be in the world right now, I’m here with you.” She whispers.

He hums and she can feel his chest vibrate under her cheek. She turns her head to look at him. His eyes are closed but there's a smile on his face.

“Are you asleep?” She giggles.

He hummed a sound to tell her no.

She breathes out a laugh and sits up. “Let’s head back before the sun sets all the way.”

He opens his eyes half lidded and smiles at her. She takes his hand and helps him sit up. His hands move to her face to draw her in for a kiss. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

---------- “Alright, there. I think that will work.” She places the tablet down on the table she and her boys are sat at.

“Are you sure you set it up right?” Ford asks.

She rolls her eyes. “I helped build an interdimensional portal. I think I can figure it out.”

“I just wanted to make sure. You remember what happened when you tried to set up our vhs to record Saturday Night Dead.” Ford reminds her.

“That was one time! It’s not my fault the vhs caught fire!” She huffs.

“Can you two stop arguing like an old married for a couple?” Stan groans.

Ford and her share a look and smile. Their attention is pulled away from each other when the tablet begins to make noise.

“Oh, it’s ringing!” She leans forward and presses the green answer button. “Hello? Kids, can you hear us?”

She's greeted with the sound of laughter. “You’re too close to the camera. Move back a little.” She moves back and the screen reveals Dipper and Mable.

“I told you I set it up just fine!” She pats Ford’s chest.

“Kids! It’s good to see you!” Stan greets.

“You guys look so cute in all your boat gear!” Mable squeals.

“Yeah you guys look really cool!” Dipper confirms.

“How has school been going!” Ford asks.

“Great! I got accepted into some senior level classes for next semester.” Dipper cheers.

Mable pushes dipper aside to hog the camera. “And I got a boyfriend!”

Dipper shoves Mabel back to get back in frame. “Yeah, and he’s actually not awful and kinda normal?”

“Congratulations to you both.” She smiles and leans her head against Ford’s shoulder.

They continue to talk and catch up for almost an hour.

“So we can come back to Gravity Falls next summer for sure?” Dipper inquires.

“Absolutely! I've been in contact with Fiddleford and he said we are more than welcome to stay with him in the old Northwest manor.” Ford confirms.

“Soos also said you’re welcome to sleep over at the shack whenever you want.” Stan chimes in.

“I can’t wait to see you two again! You’re really the best great niece and nephew ever.” She comments.

“You’re the best graunt ever!” Dipper and Mabel speak in unison, then begin to giggle and shove each other.

“See you two in a few months!” With that they end the call.

“A month and four weeks, four days, and six hours.” Ford says precisely.

“But who's counting?” She teases.

“And only a month, fours weeks, two days, and four hours until you become my wife.” Ford pulls her close, Stan rolls his eyes and leaves the upper cabin.

“Now that I am counting down to.” She plants a kiss to his cheek. “Mrs.Pines, I love how that sounds.”

“Well then, Mrs. Pines?” He kisses her forehead, then her cheek, then her lips. “Will you do the honor of being mine?”

“I already agreed to marry you, that’s why we’re getting married.” She laughs.

“I know, but I love hearing you say it. I still can’t believe you agreed to marry me.” He jokes. “Will you say it? Say you’ll be mine? Forever and always?”

Her finger came up to trace his jawline and lead his lips to hers. “Forever and always.”

#waiting for you part six #stanford pines x reader #gravity falls reader insert #ford pines x reader #please check my ao3 for all tags and warnings #a kudos and comments would be appreciated too

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whisperlullaby · 3 years

Text

Just Say It And I’m Yours-Ch.1

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: Language, stalking ish themes

Words: 1490

Summary: Steve is considering retiring from being Captain America. He doesn’t remember why he took the shield or what it means for him anymore. Then he met you.

A/N: First and foremost I am SO SORRY FOR BEING SO SHIT AT SUMMARIES. I just don’t want to give anything away. Second, this is my first series! So like, comment, reblog, let me know you want to see more of this. This story is going to start in Steve’s perspective and switch to the readers. I’ll let you guys know when the POV is shifting so no worries. So, this first chapter is told through Steve. Third, if I missed any warnings please let me know. Last but most CERTAINTLY not least, a very VERY special thanks to @river-soul for reading through this and assuring me it was a good first chapter. I am so grateful for you. Let me know what you think! (Gif by @navybrat817 )

“Steve, she's getting married tomorrow,” Bucky solemnly states as he puts a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “If you’re going to do something you better do it soon.”

“I know Buck, but what could I say to her? I haven’t been able to tell her how I feel about her for years.” Steve looked out over the lake, his eyes pricking with tears. “She made her decision.”

“You’re an idiot. You’ve been in love with her since you first saw her. If you don’t tell her, she’s going to make the biggest mistake of her life. We both know that,” Bucky sighed, raking a hand over his face. “I know she loves you. You need to talk to her. She can’t marry him Steve, you know the second she does she’ll be gone forever. The person you knew reduced to, whatever this shell of a person is.”

Steve rubbed the back of his neck and looked down where the water was gently lapping against the shore. After a few moments, he heard Bucky make his way back to the lodge. As the small waves ebbed and flowed against the shallow shore Steve thought about you and how he was an absolute coward back when you were a big part of his life.

One and a half years ago

Steve was sketching at Marine Park in Brooklyn during golden hour when everything seemed to glow. He needed a break from his Captain America responsibilities and every time he put his charcoal to the paper everything seemed to melt away. The world was vastly different since he came out of the ice and he felt his heart swell thinking about all the fights he had to endure in order to restore some semblance of peace in the universe. He was happy that he had his best friend back, cleared of the mind control Hydra put in him and he made so many new friends and a family in The Avengers. Yet, as he drew out the skyline on the thick white paper, he couldn’t help but feel like he was still missing something. He knew he needed a break from his duties to figure it out constantly being pulled into a fight was a great distraction, but he knew he needed to figure out what brought meaning to his life. The decision to take time off gnawed at Steve like a dog to a bone, who was he if he wasn’t Captain America?

Steve heard you before he saw you, picking up the fierce tone you were using made him glad he wasn’t on the receiving end of your reprimand. Steve looked up to see you wedged in between a woman and her dog and a man probably twice your size towering over you, trying to be intimidating. The fact you stepped forward refusing to back down made Steve smile, oddly fond of your bravery. The commotion you were making drew a small crowd and Steve felt a strange pull to join the group to be close to you.

“Who the fuck do you think you are? Following this poor woman around like a stalker,” You yelled, poking your finger in his chest. “Did you think she was being coy when she told you to stop following her? Was that some deranged invitation to keep on top of her the rest of the world is unaware of?”

Steve could tell that you were not about to back down as you protected the other woman. The fire in your eyes was something Steve was familiar with in himself before he went into the ice. He noticed the man ball his hands into fists and before you could react he had pulled back to hit you. Steve jumped in and caught the punch, inches from your face.

“You’re gonna want to walk away pal before you make things worse for yourself.”

Steve’s voice was low in warning. When he glanced over at you, you looked up at him almost offended that he had stepped in. Before Steve could say anything you returned your gaze to the other man and swiftly kneed him in the balls.

“Stop following women you fucking asshole,” you admonished as the man crumpled to the ground in pain. “I know you probably have a hard time listening to women when they say no because there is just a bunch of empty space where your brain is supposed to be, but maybe take this as a warning.”

Steve watched you slack jawed as you flagged down a police officer to give a statement to. He observed you as you spoke with the other woman, who was visibly shaken by the incident, with such genuine concern and kindness. He couldn’t stop looking at you as you soothed her with gentle touches and quiet whispers. Steve waited for his turn to speak with the officers regarding the incident, after which the man was taken into custody. When Steve turned around you were walking towards him.

“Umm thanks for catching the punch,” you said with a shrug. “I could have taken him though.”

Steve let out a soft chuckle.

“Well I wouldn’t be much of a superhero if I stood around and let a civilian get clocked for defending someone.”

You cocked your eyebrow at him and crossed your arms.

“Yeah but you’re not in the suit, which means you’re off duty. Either way I’m grateful, I have a job interview tomorrow and can’t really show up with a black eye. It wouldn’t really say ‘hire me I’m even tempered and have a keen ability to moderate conflict in a calm respectful manner.’ ”

Steve smiled, letting out a sigh as he cast his eyes to the ground.

“Oh sweetheart I’m always on duty, comes with the territory.”

He looked up to see you watching him with kindness and understanding.

“I’m sure that must be a very heavy burden to carry,” You sighed. “I hope you can take a vacation or something soon. It looks like you might need one.”

To say Steve was enamored by you would be the understatement of the century. In the brief time he had spent with you, he had noticed that you were fierce, kind, honest, compassionate, and absolutely stunning. He found himself physically having to shake his head to keep from staring at you.

“I’m Steve,” he blurted out. “I feel like you already know that though. It was really nice of you to say that. Sometimes I only see myself as Captain America, no vacation days in sight.”

Steve chuckled as you rolled your eyes at him.

“Y/N, and I mean it. You shouldn’t feel like you’re always on duty.”

You pointed your finger at his chest.

“Besides, I’m a tough girl, I can handle myself. You should trust people a bit more Rogers.”

You gave Steve a cheeky grin and started walking away.

Steve scrambled to follow you, not ready to have your conversation end.

“So, job interview? What do you do?”

Steve easily kept your stride. When you chuckled Steve swore his heart skipped a beat.

“Would you believe I’m a victim advocate? I have an interview with the state prosecutor. I make sure anyone who has experienced trauma of any sort is represented and protected during court cases and criminal trials,” you stated proudly.

“After what I just witnessed, I would have been more surprised if you told me you were an accountant.” Steve joked. “Would it be okay if I walked you wherever you’re going? I know you can handle yourself but I’d like to make sure you don’t leave a trail of broken men in your wake.”

You snorted out laughter.

“Yeah wouldn’t want to get put away for attacking more skeezy men. That sounds great Captain, thank you.”

Steve smiled and kept asking you questions on your walk. He had this need to know everything he could about you since you blew into his life like a sunshower. When Steve got you back to your apartment the sun was just setting.

“Well Rogers, it’s been an interesting day,” you say, nonchalantly fiddling with your keys.

“I’ll say, I didn’t think my day would consist of watching someone stand up for another woman who almost got punched, then kneeing the guy in the balls.”

Steve smiled.

“I am pleasantly surprised with the way my day turned out,” he told you.

“Well there’s a lot more where that came from if you stick with me Cap.”

You smirked at Steve grabbing his sketchbook.

“Here’s my number, if you ever need a little extra adventure in your life, call me,” you said.

With that you turned the key in the lock and pushed yourself inside the apartment. Steve was left to stand staring at your closed door. He didn’t know what force drove you into his life but knowing you for those few hours made him feel more alive than he had in years.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #marvel fic #marvel #captain america x reader

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