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rainguk · 3 years

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but it was always you | pjm

⁕ summary; five words that were never meant for you to hear can either give you the best time of your life, or extinguish a lifelong friendship forever.

⁕ pairing; jimin x reader

⁕ rating; pg-13

⁕ words; 1.7k

⁕ genre; fluff, angst - high school au, best friends to lovers au

⁕ warnings; swearing

⁕ notes; just an early little something from me for jimin's birthday (since i won't have time to write for the next few days)! <3 happy 26th mochi, we love you <33 this is crappy but i tried lmao <3 also it's short because i wanted to deliver something quick and sweet haha, i hope you enjoy :D

⁕ tags; @sunghoonight-x @imdamconfused @iminchaosnow

⁕ song; promise (jimin)

masterlist

“Hyung, I don’t think you understand how bad it is… I’m in love with Y/N.”

That’s all you can think about right now, your boatload of assignments and that one overdue essay completely forgotten. You can’t get out of bed; your muscles refuse to budge when you think about the conversation between your two roommates that you were never supposed to have overheard.

There are too many questions filling your head. Park Jimin, best friend (and world’s biggest idiot), is in love with you?

It’s beyond your comprehension at this point, and you want to tell yourself that he’d only said “I love Y/N” — which is all well and good because he says it constantly — but you know what you heard.

And you know it means something completely different.

As if on cue, your phone rings, an old selfie of you and him filling your screen. Your arms are wrapped around his neck, and the two of you grin brightly up at the camera. Now you wonder whether it was just a spontaneous pose, or whether Jimin wanted you close to him. Whether he liked it.

It shocks you because no way, no way can it be possible that he loves you like this when you have harbored feelings, equally strong, for as long as you can remember?

How is it that you know him like the back of your hand, but couldn’t see the signs at all?

Numbly, you press the green button to answer. “Hi? I’m literally across the hall from you…”

Jimin’s excited voice fills your room quickly. “Y/N! Are you awake? You’re usually up by now but you haven’t come out of your room so I thought you were still asleep… but anyways! Do you want to go out for breakfast? Hyung’s cooking right now, so I thought we’d best get out of here as soon as possible.”

You laugh a little at that. Now that you think about it, he’s never failed to make you laugh. “Minnie, he’s the best cook out of us three.”

“Yeah, but he burnt the pancakes yesterday,” he whines, dragging out the last syllable. “I’m not suffering through inedible food again. Hey, if you hurry we could probably sneak out before he forces us to sit and eat.”

“Are you trying to get us killed?”

“No, he loves us too much for that,” Jimin responds solemnly. “He’d probably just toss us out the window. Nothing too life-threatening.”

“Sounds lovely.”

“So, are you coming?”

Jimin knows you’ll say yes. You can’t say no to him, is what you’ve learned through over two decades of friendship — but what does that all mean now?

You force a smile down at your phone, willfully chasing a few bitter thoughts away.

“Give me five minutes.”

You have to admit, these pancakes are far better than any Yoongi could ever whip up.

“Oh, these are good,” Jimin says, voicing your thoughts. “Damn. We should have brought Yoongi hyung, too. Show him where he stands.”

“You can’t compare a twenty-four year old amateur to an entire food chain, Minnie,” you point out, stabbing another piece with your fork. “Besides, you know he’d much rather catch up on sleep than come with. He spent way too much time last night on his essay.”

“Oh, true. Man, he overworks himself so much,” he sighs, scrunching his nose as he eats. “Guy’s gotta take it easy, don’t you think?”

His words barely get into your head; you’re still turning over what happened last night in your mind. You still find it hard to believe that your feelings might be reciprocated in such a way. It’s almost dizzying, that you’ve dreamed about something for so long, but now that it’s finally true, you still can’t wrap your head around it.

And why hadn’t he told you before? All those innocuous “I love you”s, all those little heart emojis sprinkled throughout your text conversations… you’d thought they’d meant far more to you than to him. But now you’re doubting it all.

What if you decide to try it, and it never works? What if you were never meant to be forever? What will become of your friendship then?

Way, way too many questions.

“Hey, Y/N? You okay?”

You look up into Jimin’s concerned eyes, honey-colored and filled with stars as they rest on yours. “Yeah,” you manage weakly before taking another bite. “Just fine.”

“You sure?”

“I said I’m fine.”

“Y/N—”

Your fork clatters down on the plate as you let it fall, your emotions getting the best of you. “Jimin, What the fuck don’t you get about ‘I’m fine’?!”

Your outburst earns you a few glances from the two other parties in the diner, as well as a stunned look from Jimin, and you realize — throughout a whole lifetime of knowing him, you’ve never yelled at him like that, with so much venom in your voice.

“I’m—”

He cuts you off, tilting his head to the side. Wondering. In a sort of daze, you can see it now, in the furrow of his brows; the way he looks at you like you’re his whole world. All those times countless friends mentioned it to you and you brushed it off, they’re all coming back to haunt you.

Little does he know, your world revolves around him, too.

“Y/N, what’s bothering you?” Jimin asks gently, setting his own fork down and gazing at you with worried eyes. “God, I knew something was up when you slept in this morning. That’s just so unlike you.”

He remembers something like that. He remembers even the littlest things about you.

“Maybe I just wanted some extra sleep,” you challenge, raising your head high. “Maybe I was tired. You wouldn’t know that, would you? Not when you and Yoongi stayed up until, oh, three in the morning or so talking about your fucking love life.”

Jimin pales at your last sentence, and once again, you know you’ve gone too far. The stricken look on his face says it all. “Y/N, how…”

“I heard you,” you whisper, swallowing thickly. “I wanted water, and I came downstairs, a-and I heard you. And Yoongi. And… my name.”

Jimin, bless his soul, is a little more put together than you are right now — you, tears threatening to spill from your eyes. Why is admitting that you love him so difficult? Maybe it’s years and years of keeping that emotion boxed up inside that’s preventing you from being able to express it now.

“Look,” he starts, staring right at you, “first, Y/N… nothing I said last night was a lie. Nothing. God, I’ve loved you for literally forever. I know it’s weird—”

No, you want to cut in, launch yourself into his arms. No, it’s not weird. It’s everything I’ve ever wanted.

“—but I can literally see the fucking stars in your eyes, and even my entire future sometimes,” he finishes.

Jimin is rambling now, words tumbling out of his mouth as fast as he can spit them out while maintaining his composure, cheeks impossibly red.

“I hate it when you smile at Yoongi, even though I know there’s nothing going on between you two. I hate it when you smile at any guy, really, because I always want that guy to be me. A-and I was so damn shocked when I realized that… Like, I want to marry you and get a cozy little house and have our own children, you know? How fucking crazy is that? You’re my best friend, heaven’s sake, I shouldn’t be feeling like that. But it’s there, and I-I… Fuck. It could have been anyone else, but all along… it was always you,” he ends, eyes falling shut as he slumps back into his chair. “Shit. I wasn’t supposed to say all that.”

That is a lot of information, and you just stare at him while you process it all. Everything he’s just said, slowly working its way into your brain.

“I want that guy to be me…”

“...want to marry you…”

“...cozy little house…”

“...have our own children…”

“..shouldn’t be feeling like that...”

“...always you.”

Tentatively, Jimin carefully takes your hand from across the table, and the skin contact sends your brain cells into overdrive.

“Shit, Y/N,” he breathes, desperate for some reaction, any reaction. “Say something, please. Hit me, scream at me, push me away, whatever. Do something,” you hear him plead, his voice cracking, and that’s when you break.

“Fuck you,” you shudder, tears blurring your vision. “I can’t believe — I can’t believe you… for so long, why didn’t you just tell me?”

Jimin sniffles, thumb coming up to catch a stray teardrop on your face. “What, and ruin this? Us?”

“No,” you protest, shaking your head. “It… this was already ruined, Minnie. It’s been like that for a while. Nothing you could have done would have fixed it.”

“What? What do you mean, Y/N, I—”

“Idiot,” you mumble, eyes looking anywhere but at him. “For so damn long, I’ve loved you like this. In silence. I gave you my heart when we were eleven and you still have it, even now.”

And if Jimin had any qualms about kissing you in the middle of a diner before, you certainly weren’t aware of them now. No, that is the least of your concerns as he pulls you in for a deep kiss; you can taste the saltiness on his lips and you realize he’s been crying. Out of relief and happiness, you realize, and you start too, knowing damn well that there are a thousand ways this morning could have gone wrong, and somehow, you were blessed with this one.

“I love you,” he whispers into your ear. “And I don’t mean the way you probably thought I did for the past decade or so.”

This earns him a laugh from you as you lean in closer to his touch, the warmth of his body against yours.

“I love you, too,” you reply, not caring that people are most probably giving you two the weirdest looks of all time. You’ll deal with that later. “Oh, and don’t worry about that. You’ll have many more decades to make it all up to me.”

Jimin narrows his eyes at you, a tiny smile on his face. “Is that a challenge I hear, Y/N?”

You smirk lightly in return, fully satisfied at having the last laugh.

“Guess you’ll just have to wait and find out.”

— feedback/questions/just wanna chat?

thank you for reading but it was always you! ♡

#heartsforbts #bangtaninn #jimin x reader #jimin fluff #jimin angst #jimin friends to lovers #jimin best friends to lovers #jimin day 2021 #jimin day fic #jimin one shot #park jimin #bts one shot #bts fic #bts fanfic #rainguk

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wolveria · 3 years

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Inside Your Wires - Ch 7

Pairing: Human!Connor x Android!Reader

Series Warnings (18+ only): Eventual smut, slow burn, fantasy bigotry, violence, brief noncon elements, angst with a happy ending

Chapter Summary: You try to smooth relations between you and Detective Anderson, made difficult when the human wants nothing to do with you.

AO3

Story banner by @uh-kitty-got-wet

You allowed the glass door to swing quietly shut behind you, smoothing your tie as you followed at a polite distance on the detective’s heels. The hunch of his shoulders was interpreted by your social module as a sign of discomfort and tension.

You were given several options on how to approach the human, even one suggesting taking several minutes before engaging him in conversation, but your mission prompt wouldn’t allow you to have that flexibility.

[EARN DET. ANDERSON’S TRUST]

Standing directly next to his desk, you appraised the human’s belongings, noting all of the items you had scanned upon your arrival. The human had an assortment of items, including an ancient mp3 player [Zune, manufactured 2008], a work cell phone, a bonsai tree [Japanese maple, dying], and several personal photos printed out and taped to his display board.

They were of different places and at different times, going by the various types of clothing, but they consisted of mostly the same subjects. Three men wearing nearly identical faces that only android software could differentiate between, and an older man catalogued as Captain Hank Anderson. He was marked as the adoptive father of the triplets.

Even though you had done it several times before, you scanned the detective’s features. His identifying information displayed on your HUD, further settling in your memory banks each time you did it.

DET. ANDERSON, CONNOR

Born: 08/15/2008 // Police Detective

Criminal record: [Sealed Juvenile Records]

You blinked and the identifying information disappeared, leaving you to fully observe the detective where he sat, hunched over his terminal with a scowl on his face.

“I know the situation is not ideal,” you began in your most diplomatic tone, “but I look forward to working with a law enforcement officer of your caliber."

The human gave no indication he heard you, but his heart rate increased by a small percentage, and his fingers pressed down on his flat keyboard in a way that was counteractive to typing.

You were prompted with more dialogue options, and once again went with the friendliest approach.

“It seems we will be working together for some time, so perhaps it would be beneficial to get to know one another.”

The human remained reticent, glaring at the terminal screen as if it were angering him personally. The detective also narrowed his eyes, indicating an intense dislike, but remained silent on the state of his emotions.

Your gaze drifted down to the empty mug of coffee next to the withering bonsai tree.

[ESTABLISH RAPPORT WITH DET. ANDERSON]

“What are you doing?”

You tilted your head, freezing your motor functions when the question was asked, putting you in the position of half-bending over the detective’s desk. You had blocked his terminal with your body as you attempted to reach his coffee cup, and he now stared at you from inches away with a wide, startled expression.

“Sorry, Detective. I thought you might like a refill.”

You had received a helpful notification that caffeine withdrawal can result in headache and irritation, both of which you had identified in the detective’s tense expression.

“Okay, fine, could you just—“ He released a puff of air, fluttering the loose lock of hair that strategically fell to the side of your face. “—hurry up so you’re not in my goddamn lap?”

You weren’t in his lap, or even in the relative vicinity of his groin. It would have been more accurate to say you were closest to his face and hands, the latter of which had been rapidly retracted when the front of your chassis had brushed against them.

You also noted the rise in temperature of his skin, the pink hue across his cheeks, and the dilation of his pupils—all indications of arousal and attraction. These were common occurrences with your model design, and you dismissed the pop-up that asked if you wished to run the sexual subroutine. Such programs were low priority and only used as a last result if the detective were uncooperative with the investigation.

“Sorry, Detective,” you repeated, forming your lips into the approximation of a warm smile. “I’ll return shortly.”

You carefully picked up the mug and moved into a standing position, and the detective released a long exhale, avoiding meeting your eye as he turned back to his terminal.

Satisfied in your endeavor, you crossed the short distance to the station breakroom.

Two humans resided inside, leaning against an elevated circular table as they spoke. Both turned their heads to stare, and you took the opportunity to scan them.

CPL. LEE, HELEN

Born: 05/19/2005 // Police Corporal

Criminal record: None

LT. ANDERSON, COLIN

Born: 08/15/2008 // Police Lieutenant

Criminal record: [Expunged Juvenile Records]

You blinked away the notifications and gave them a non-threatening smile before turning to the coffee machine. It was a large unit, meant for offices with frequent foot traffic, and a brief scan indicated it was overdue for a cleaning.

You weighed the negatives against the benefits of obtaining a beverage from this machine, and determined it was worth the possible contamination risk.

Placing the mug underneath the drip dispenser, you pushed the appropriate buttons after determining the detective’s preferred blend with a quick swipe of your fingers to the interior of the cup and placing them on your tongue.

There was a noise from behind, a slight huff of air and the soft pad of rubber soles against linoleum. One pair vacated the breakroom, and the other approached and stopped at your back.

“Connor done having his temper tantrum yet?”

You turned to face the lieutenant, examining his features and finding open curiosity. He stayed a polite distance away, unlike earlier, when he had stood so close that you had been forced to take a seat at the detective’s desk.

You wondered now if you should have tolerated the lieutenant’s close proximity, since occupying the detective’s chair had seemed to upset him.

“Must be bad if he’s already sent you to fetch his coffee,” he added with a nod to the mug sitting on the drainage tray. “Usually, he waits a day or two before terrorizing the rookies.”

“I volunteered,” you hurried to say, not wanting a ranking officer to get the wrong idea about the detective. “I believe it will be an appropriate icebreaker for our new partnership.”

“That so? Pretty sophisticated for an android, and terribly hopeful.” He canted his head to the side. “You got some kind of human instruction manual inside that processor of yours?”

The lieutenant dropped his gaze down your body, lingering in a way it had done many times before. The evidence of his attraction was even more obvious than the detective’s, but your sexual subroutines had never been activated by his interest before. You were assigned to Det. Anderson’s charge, and therefore, it would serve no purpose to offer your additional features to the lieutenant.

“In essence,” you answered, passive but friendly enough not to antagonize. “My human relations program assists in easing the interaction between CyberLife androids and humans.”

“I see.”

He moved closer, face neutral but his eyes highly observant. He reached out and took your tie, tugging it upwards. The tie clip stopped him from lifting it far, but the lieutenant seemed satisfied with letting the fabric run through his fingers.

“What else can your human relations program do?”

The tone of his question was easy enough to decipher, your program indicating the query was of a sexual nature.

“I’m afraid I can’t answer that, Lieutenant,” you said. “Only Detective Anderson has access to my specialized subroutines.”

The fingers threading your tie went still. The open curiosity vanished from the lieutenant’s face, replaced by a calculating appraisal.

“Well, then. My brother’s a lucky guy.”

His lips pulled into a languid smile that didn’t match the tightness around his eyes.

You carefully pulled your tie from his lax fingers, once again giving him a non-threatening expression.

“The coffee’s done brewing. I must get back to the detective now.”

Turning back to the coffee machine, you kept a significant number of your processors focused on the sound of Lt. Anderson’s heartbeat and breathing, even sampling the micro sensors on your skin.

He remained at a close distance, though by the time you turned around with mug in hand, all you could see of him was his retreating back as he went around the corner down the hallway. From your downloaded schematics of the building, you knew the most likely route he was taking was either to the unisex bathrooms or the station gym.

Your statistical readouts stated the chance the lieutenant would try to engage in sexual activity with you at some point was at approximately 35.2%, and you tasked your processors with running the probability in the background. It was important that erratic human behavior didn’t interfere with your investigation.

“Have a nice chat with my brother?” the detective asked, tone flat as he stared at his monitor.

You filed away possible tension between the two siblings to observe further. You placed the mug next to his keyboard, this time on the side nearest you so you would not lean over and agitate the human again.

“It was informative,” you simply said, straightening into a standing position once more.

The detective gave a huff through his nose and muttered, “I’ll bet.” His eyes narrowed, and after seven seconds of glaring at his terminal, he locked on your face in irritation.

“Can I help you?”

“Yes,” you said, letting a friendly smile appear. “I would like to know where I can access the DPD’s database. I wish to review the case files.”

The skin around the human’s nose crinkled. He seemed to hold some kind of internal conflict before he sighed and indicated the desk connected with his own.

“Belonged to my last partner. You can use it. For now.” He emphasized the words, as if you had possibly forgotten the temporary nature of your partnership.

“Thank you,” you said with a small nod. The detective rolled his eyes and turned back to his terminal, seemingly already having forgotten you.

You knew he hadn’t. Every observant sensor of your body informed you of his continued wariness, even while his eyes were mostly focused on the glass screen in front of him, he was constantly tuned to your presence.

By the time you had sat down in the chair of the empty desk, you had already pulled up in the DPD database to discover what had become of the detective’s last partner.

Sheila Pernell, also a detective, had transferred to another precinct months earlier, citing the difficult nature of working with Anderson and his unpleasant personality. The language she had used had been colorful and extremely unprofessional.

You made another note in your background processes: Detective Connor Anderson displays hostility toward work partners and colleagues. Difficult to connect with others on an interpersonal level. Approach and adapt to antisocial tendencies as needed.

You turned toward the terminal and placed the fingers of your right hand on the keyboard, allowing your synthetic skin to pull make to interface with the device. Connecting to the network and pulling up the cases assigned to Det. Anderson, you downloaded all 243 into your memory bank.

Hoping to prompt a conversation with the detective, you turned toward him from your chair, slightly tilting your head as you analyzed his tense posture. It hadn’t relaxed at all within the past two minutes since your last interaction.

“There are two hundred and forty-three cases dating back to February of this year, many of them originating in Detroit. An AX400 abducted a young girl from her home last night. I thought that might be a good place to start. It’s flagged as the most urgent case due to it being a crime against a minor.”

Your social module had indicated bringing up the danger to a child would have prompted some kind of response, but the detective remained fixedly silent, leaning the side of his jaw against his propped knuckles.

A more drastic approach was needed. You stood, walked around the joined desk, and approached the detective as he made a noise and turned away.

Coming to a stop directly next to his chair, you adopted the understanding demeanor, hoping to placate the detective’s agitation.

“I understand this isn’t an ideal situation, Detective, but perhaps it would be best to set aside your personal issues, and—“

“Excuse me?” the detective snapped, glaring at you out of the side of his eye. “Were you just about to suggest how I do my job? Because if so, I advise you to shut the hell up. You’re not my boss, and you’re definitely not my partner, so perhaps it would be best if you fucked off and didn’t come back.”

He turned away again and picked up his tablet as he pretended you were no longer standing there.

You plucked the device out of his hand, ignored the surprised noise he made, and placed your other palm between his shoulder blades to establish a physical connection he couldn’t ignore.

“I’m investigating these cases whether you like it or not, Detective.” You leaned closer, speaking directly next to his ear so as not to be overheard. “If you continue to refuse to cooperate, then I’ll find someone else who will be more amenable to my presence.”

For the span of two seconds, the detective remained completely frozen. And then he abruptly stood, grabbed you by the jacket, and swung you around. Your back slammed against the glass partition with a solid thud.

“I’m only going to say this once,” he growled, inches from your face. “I don’t care how many Barbie dolls CyberLife sends to the station. If you keep mouthing off to me, I’ll shoot you myself and throw you in the dumpster. Am I understood?”

“Perfectly,” you calmly answered, which served to only agitate the detective further.

His brows creased as his hands tightened around the edges of your jacket. The human was stronger than his wiry frame gave him credit for as he managed to hold you between himself and the glass, your toes brushing the ground but unable to find purchase.

You remained silent, returning his glare with a bland, pleasant expression despite the discomfort traveling your circuits. If the detective was going to continue to be a problem, you would need to report his behavior, and that might further delay the investigation.

Trying to adapt to his psychology was proving fruitless, and it was clear you had underestimated just how socially challenged he was. Perhaps seeking a new partner was the right course of action after all.

Elijah had stated that if the detective became too much of an issue, his brother would be a suitable replacement. But when you thought of the lieutenant, the idea of working with the human was…

Unpleasant.

You studied the human’s face, searching those dark brown eyes, but found no acceptance there. You were going to have to work harder to—

“Detective, uh… sorry to bother you…”

At the sound of the timid voice, the detective released your jacket and allowed you to stand on firm ground. He didn’t turn to look at the officer standing behind him, however, and continued to level a glare at you, effectively penning you in so you couldn’t step around him.

“What is it, Ralph.”

“It’s about the AX400? The one who kidnapped the little girl? Someone just called in on the APB, said they saw it in the Ravendale district.” He paused, wide hazel eyes darting between you and the detective’s rigid back. “If you need me to bring this to the lieutenant—“

“I’ll handle it,” he said, the heated glare finally pulled off you when he turned and walked away.

Adjusting your jacket of its newly acquired wrinkles, you took a moment to process the detective’s unstable and problematic behavior, and quickly followed before the detective left the station without you.

Next Chapter

#human!connor x reader #connor x reader #connor x android!reader #human!connor x android!reader #reverse au #dbh #my writing #my fanfiction

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fromthedeskoftheraven · 4 years

Text

Visions of sugarplums

Pairing: Agent Whiskey x female reader

Content: Pining, workplace romance, fake dating if you squint, oh no we’re snowed in, mention of food, kissing, making out, mostly-non-explicit sex (under-18s, jog on), so many sweet pet names you’ll get cavities, romantic Jack because apparently I'm a sucker for that

Word count: ~4800 (yeah. Jack is a demanding muse)

Prompt: “Hoping one day you’ll make a dream last” (Let Her Go, Passenger), for @yespolkadotkitty‘s follower celebration writing challenge 🎉

Note: I said canon Whiskey who? This cowboy drinks respect women juice.

Part two: Kentucky welcome Part three: Just say you will

Taglist (if you’d like to be tagged, un-tagged, or make a request for future fics, feel free to let me know): @writemessystarwars @keeper0fthestars @flightlessangelwings @yespolkadotkitty @emesispo @songsformonkeys @beccaplaying

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

A whirl of snow stings your cheek like a slap as you hurry through the grounds of the posh ski resort that sprawls across the valley, dotted with cozy cabins and million-dollar chalets.

Your sheer stockings, low-cut dress, and teetering heels are no match for snow bursts and the wind that cuts through you like a knife. Inwardly cursing your alter ego and her penchant for skimpy fashions, you tug your thin coat more tightly around you.

This mission was supposed to be a piece of cake. A few days at a luxe resort, posing with your partner as an arms dealer and his girlfriend to get close to your target, and everything was going swimmingly...until your search of the target’s study during a cocktail party was interrupted by two of his security staff making their rounds ahead of schedule. The adrenaline rush of your narrow escape is still humming in your veins.

Beside you, long strides making quick work of the path, Jack Daniels has transformed himself from intelligence agent to wealthy gun runner with the world on a string. The cashmere overcoat that cost more than your first car is the perfect finishing touch to his sharp suit, and his dark good looks stand out even in the hazy moonlight.

Rounding the corner of a chalet, Jack slows his steps to a stroll. A strong arm pulls you flush against his side as he walks, letting an easy laugh float on the wind like you’ve said something witty. Before you have time to wonder what’s going on, another couple materializes in the pool of light from a lamp, squinting against the gusts that throw fresh powder into the air like confetti.

“Evening,” Jack says with a tip of his hat and a winning smile, the very picture of a genial Southern gentleman. “This weather sure is pickin’ up, ain’t it?”

The couple mutter their agreement and hurry on their way. Once they’re out of sight Jack’s hand slides to the small of your back, guiding you as you both quicken your strides again. Your teeth are chattering by the time the wind blows you onto the porch of your own cabin, and in a fumble of hands on the doorknob you step together into the blessed stillness of the spacious room.

A cheerful whistle pierces the air and you turn to find Jack brushing snow off of his black Stetson and favoring you with a lopsided smirk. Even damp with melting snow he manages to be striking, all sultry eyes and dashing mustache and wayward strands of dark hair curling over his forehead.

“Nothin’ like a little skirmish to get the blood pumping.” He carefully sets the hat on the fireplace mantel to dry. “I feel like...”

“...A tornado in a trailer park,” you finish with him, earning one of those wide, dimpled grins that always dazzles you a little in return.

“Just so,” he says.

“That’s another one in the ‘win’ column.” You try to suppress a shiver as you pull the flash drive that might as well be a smoking gun from the cleavage of your dress. “A few bumps in the road, but we got what we needed.”

Jack ignores the congratulations, stepping close to take your chilled hands between his large ones. His hands aren’t much warmer than yours, but the thrill that trickles down your spine has nothing to do with the cold.

The frown lines between his brows deepen. “Darlin’, you’re colder than a well-digger’s belt buckle. Go on and have yourself a hot shower while I get a fire started and check in with HQ.”

“I can wait, I’ll help you,” you offer.

He shakes his head, already moving toward the fireplace. “Don’t you worry, sugarplum, ol’ Jack’ll have this place snug in no time. You just get comfortable.”

Helpless against the lure of hot water and fuzzy socks, you rummage in your suitcase for a change of clothes. Still, you stop at the bathroom door to look back at Jack where he’s stacking logs with the same determination furrowing his brow as when he’s reviewing dossiers or cleaning his guns.

The two of you have been almost inseparable for the year that you’ve been working for the Statesman agency. Even your code name was assigned with your partnership in mind, a little inside joke Champ never gets tired of telling when he introduces the two best agents in the New York office: “...Because you can’t have a Manhattan without Whiskey and Vermouth!”

Jack comes on as strong as his namesake liquor, but you’ve seen the steely nature under his flashy Southern charm, the practice behind the effortless shows of skill, the tender heart he hides with bravado.

And he has no idea you’ve fallen in love with him.

As though he can feel your gaze, Jack looks up, his stern expression relaxing. He gives you a wink and waves one hand to shoo you along before getting back to his task.

With a sheepish smile, you duck into the bathroom and turn on the shower before you can do something stupid.

Like asking him to join you.

***

"Mission report, Agent?”

Champ’s projection flickers into the armchair across from Jack, looking like some kind of Halloween effect with the flames dancing over the logs in the fireplace behind him.

“We’ve got all the intel we need.” Jack adjusts his glasses, stretching his legs out in front of him with a sigh. “Agents ready for pickup.”

“Glad to hear it. Where’s Vermouth?”

Jack glances toward the sound of running water. “She’s just showerin’ to warm up. We got caught in a snow flurry coming back to the cabin.”

“That so?” The ghost of a smile flits over Champ’s face. “I thought you’d want to be the one warmin’ her up.”

Jack’s not sure if he’s more annoyed by the teasing, or how quick he is to take the bait. “Champ, this ain’t a Fourth of July picnic. In case you’ve forgotten, I’m on a delicate mission with my partner.”

“Now, don’t get your feathers ruffled, son,” Champ says mildly, reaching for a highball glass. “You confided in me about your feelings, and I’m just givin’ you a little nudge of encouragement.”

“I did not confide in you.” Jack leans forward to jab a finger at the hazy image of his boss. “You tested Ginger’s new truth serum on me.”

Champ’s grin is distinctly unrepentant. “Well, you looked like a man who needed to get somethin’ off his chest. ‘Sides, I won twenty bucks from Tequila for being right.”

Jack only grunts, slumping on the couch again. “Your granny’s special mint julep recipe, my ass.”

“Jack, she’s a pretty girl. Smart as that whip of yours. You think you’ll be the only one to notice? Anybody can see Vermouth thinks the world of you, but one of these days she’ll be wearin’ another man’s ring if you don’t stop pussyfooting around and make good on all that flirtin’ you do.”

That idea settles in Jack’s stomach like a bad oyster.

Of course, Champ has a point.

You are pretty. No, scratch that...beautiful. You’re a hell of a good agent -- the quickest route to Jack’s bad side is to suggest otherwise -- but you’re so much more than that. Your sweetness and spirit are more than a man like him can hope to deserve, but damn if the way your eyes light up when you smile doesn’t thaw something long dormant in his chest.

If he’s been hell-bent on keeping things professional between you, his dreams are anything but. When he closes his eyes he sees you, soft and yearning and his. His to have and hold until he wakes up aching, with your phantom touch lingering on his skin.

He’s starting to forget why professionalism was so important to him in the first place.

“Champ, you got anything else related to this mission? Been a long day here.”

“Matter of fact, I do.” Thankfully, Champ has the grace to go along with the change of subject. “That storm’s kickin’ up too much snow to get a jet in there. You’ll have to hunker down and wait for a pickup in the morning.”

Well, if the universe wants to hand Jack another night in your company, who is he to argue?

“Copy that,” he says out loud. “We’ll await contact in the morning.”

Champ smiles. “Plenty of time for any long-overdue conversations you might want to have.”

“You’re startin’ to break up. Whiskey out.” Jack pulls off the glasses and tosses them unceremoniously onto the coffee table, scrubbing a hand over his face.

Sparing a glance at the darkening sky outside the window, he hauls himself off of the couch to put another log on the fire, trying not to think about how Champ just might be right.

***

When you emerge from the bathroom in a cloud of fragrant steam, Jack is lounging on the couch in front of a crackling fire. He’s traded the designer clothes for jeans and a faded button-down shirt and managed to tame his tousled hair. You know he takes pride in his trademark hat and bespoke suit jackets, but there’s something about him when he’s dressed down and softer around the edges that tugs at your heart.

He looks up when you come into the room, cheek dimpling with a smile. “Well, don’t you look like a new woman? Thought you were fixin’ to turn into an icicle on me for a minute, there.”

“Here’s hoping our next assignment involves sandy beaches and umbrella drinks.” You hug your sweater around yourself. “What’s the word from Champ?”

“Looks like we’re here for the night on account of this storm.”

As if on cue, a gust of wind rattles the windows, making you jump.

“Come and have a seat by the fire, sweetheart.” Jack picks something up from the coffee table and waves it at you. “Got a protein bar and some water for you. I don’t know about you, but a handful of damn canapes ain’t going to see me through to morning.”

“You sure know how to wine and dine a girl, cowboy,” you tease, dropping onto the couch.

His laugh is as good-natured as ever. “When we get back home, I’ll cook you the best steak you’ve ever had.”

“The best steak since the last one you cooked for me?"

“Well, a man should always be improvin’ his technique to keep a woman happy.” His dark eyes twinkle with mischief, and you roll your eyes but can’t quite smother a laugh.

The protein bar tastes something like chocolate-flavored chalk but you’re hungry enough to make quick work of it, washing it down with gulps of water. Jack nudges your shoulder and you find him offering his flask with a wry smile.

“’Fraid it’s all I've got in the way of dessert.”

The whiskey inside burns its way down your throat and mellows to spread its warm glow through your chest. With a sigh, you hand back the flask, watching Jack’s throat ripple with the swig he takes before reattaching it to his belt.

The liquor’s fire contrasts with the chill of the day in your bones, setting off a shiver that shudders through your shoulders and arms.

“Honey, you still cold?” Jack’s voice is rough-edged with weariness and whiskey.

“Well, I like a nice walk in the snow as much as the next girl, but I was half naked in that ridiculous outfit,” you say dryly.

One corner of his mouth quirks upward. There’s something unreadable in those fathomless eyes as he watches you for a moment before opening one arm, arching a brow in invitation.

Some tiny, winged creature takes up residence in your chest where your heart should be, and you immediately scold yourself. Jack’s your partner and your friend. Of course he has the decency not to want to see you miserable after a long, cold day.

So you tell yourself, even as you go to him, nestling into his side and letting his arm come around you to hold you close. His hand is relaxed on your shoulder, his thumb trailing back and forth in a gentle rhythm.

“Better?” he murmurs.

You feel like home, you think.

“Better.”

With Jack’s heartbeat steadfast and comforting under your palm, the last of your reserve dissolves. You tuck your head into the crook of his neck and melt into his warmth, breathe in his scent, musky and tinged with leather and sandalwood.

Quiet descends on the room, fleece-soft and a little sleepy, as you stare into the fire and let your mind wander. The hypnotic trace of Jack’s thumb over your shoulder is the only indication that he’s still awake.

You sneak a look at him. His eyes glitter black in the gathering dark and his profile is regal, carved into the stern dips and hollows of a Roman sculpture by the play of light and shadow from the fire.

He’s beautiful. You wonder if anyone’s ever told him.

“Jack?”

He hums in answer, almost the purr of a contented cat.

“Do you ever think about retiring?”

A soft snort of laughter rumbles against you. “You callin’ me old?”

“We both know I’d punch anyone who did,” you scold, giving his chest a playful swat. “I just mean...do you ever imagine doing something else? Something more peaceful?”

“Well, I’ve got a patch of land in Kentucky with a farmhouse. One day I suppose I’ll give up the apartment in the city and trade the Silver Pony in for a ridin’ mower.”

You frown. It’s a jarring reminder that after all this time, Jack still has his secrets. “You do?”

He nods. “It’s been in my family for generations, my granddaddy left it to me. Always thought I’d raise a family there. Houseful of kids, dogs, the whole nine yards,” he says ruefully.

He doesn’t have to tell you why he never did.

The tragic loss of Jack’s wife and unborn son is no secret in the agency, and you might know better than anyone about the hole they left in his life. It’s always broken your heart for him, but the idea of this family home that sits empty but for his ghosts makes it suddenly, achingly easy to imagine Jack building a cradle in the barn and reading bedtime stories and teaching little ones to ride their first horses.

“Maybe it’s not too late,” you offer. “You never know.”

He squeezes your shoulder for an instant, a silent recognition of your kindness, before going on with a breezy sigh. “What about you? You fixin’ to go plant yourself by a pool somewhere with a fancy drink in one hand and a book in the other?”

“What, and not get to play fake criminals at cocktail parties with you?” you scoff. “Not a chance.”

His smile is sharp and sweet as molasses. “Well, I'm always happy to escort the most beautiful woman in the room.”

There’s something so plain and sincere about the sentiment that you’re taken aback.

Jack throws around compliments like other people talk about the weather. But you know when he’s just greasing the wheels of conversation, filling the space between words...and this isn’t it.

Ignoring the rush of heat into your cheeks, you default to the safety of humor. “Flattery will get you everywhere, Agent Whiskey.”

The smirk, the laugh, the sly innuendo you’re expecting don’t come. He shifts to look at you, so close and so handsome it hurts, and the naked admiration in his eyes makes your breath catch in your throat.

“Ain’t flattery, sugarplum.” His thumb travels fleetingly to the bare skin of your neck above the collar of your sweater. “You’re as pretty as a Kentucky sunrise and twice as bright, and that’s the truth.”

“Jack, that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me...that anyone’s ever said to me,” you blurt out, and mean it.

His dimple deepens, and a dash of his usual devilish charm flashes across his face. “Well, if we’re bein’ honest with each other, I must confess to thinkin’ lots of complimentary things about you.”

You can barely hear him over the hammering of your heart.

“Is that so?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he drawls. The flicker of his glance to your lips is so quick, you could almost miss it.

But you don’t.

Maybe it’s the whiskey, maybe it’s the wind wailing in the eaves, maybe it’s the thrill of almost being caught by the bad guys, but something prods you on, dares you to play with fire. Your hand shifts almost imperceptibly on his chest, letting the tip of one finger find the warm, tanned skin at the open neck of his shirt.

“And what are you thinking right now?”

Something hot and swaggering flares in his eyes and you know, you know he’s picked up your gauntlet.

“Well, sweetheart...” His hand moves from your shoulder, trailing lazily to the nape of your neck. He tilts his head to watch goosebumps erupt in the wake of his touch before turning that smoldering gaze on your face again. “Right now I’m wonderin’ what you’d say if I were to kiss that pretty mouth.”

“I’d probably ask what took you so long.”

You barely finish the sentence before his hands cradle your face and his lips are on yours, stealing your breath with their plush softness.

Nothing in your experience of lukewarm flirtations and flaky boyfriends has prepared you for Jack’s affections. He’s a force of nature, possessive and generous by turns, and his approving hum when you open for him and the hot slide of his tongue against yours have you clinging to him like you’ll drown if you let go.

It’s only when you’re nearly dizzy that you break away for air. “Jack,” you whisper, sinking a novel of emotions into one syllable.

His lips brush your forehead. “I’ve got you, sweetheart. My beautiful girl.”

“I’ve always been your girl, Jack.” You rest your forehead against his, closing your eyes against the glaring, shimmering audacity of the words. “I love you.”

The exhale that fans over your cheek is your name. Your real name, the one thing he almost never calls you. His hand is gentle, tilting your chin up. “Look at me.”

You gather the nerve to lift your eyes to his, only to find them soft. Happy.

“Honey, I love you.” His dimple makes an appearance with an apologetic smile. “Hell, I was smitten from the first handshake. But you were a new agent, and things were workin’ out so well, I never wanted to upset the applecart by tellin’ you so.”

Your laugh is breathless with relief. “Well, then,” you say, toying with the button that stands between you and his bare chest. “I guess we’ve got some lost time to make up for.”

“Oh, I like the sound of that.” With the agility of his training, he hooks one hand around the back of your knee and the other around your waist and moves you to straddle his lap. His big hands splay across your back to pull you snugly against him as he traces the line of your jaw with his nose. “Now where were we, darlin’?”

Your head is spinning with the nuzzling of his nose over your pulse point and the broad warmth of his chest pressed to yours and the growing hardness under the tight denim of his jeans.

“You were--” You break off in a gasp as his teeth graze the sensitive skin of your neck. “You were kissing me better than anyone else ever has.”

“Baby, I’m gonna make you forget about ever kissin’ anybody else.”

You don’t bother telling him you’re way ahead of him.

Jack’s hair is soft and thick when you weave your fingers into it like you’ve always wanted to, stroking where it hints at curling at the nape. When your hand slips under his collar to shape the strong column of his neck, caress the vulnerable skin under his jaw where his pulse is thundering in time with yours, the low growl in his throat sends heat spiraling straight to your core.

He surges up to capture your mouth again, a hot, demanding crush of lips and tongues that makes you move restlessly against him, wanting more. He doesn’t miss it, and when he slides one hand to your lower back to press you even closer on his muscled thighs every nerve in your body lights up.

“I want you, Jack,” you plead between kisses. “Need you.”

His hands slide underneath your sweater and come to rest, warm and calloused, on the soft skin over your ribs. When you least expect it, he gentles the kiss into something almost chaste and when he pulls away, just enough to look into your face, his eyes have gone solemn.

“Tell me to stop, sweetheart. I will.”

You could burst with love for this man.

“I’ll strangle you with your own lasso if you do.”

Jack barks out a surprised laugh, lighting up with a grin before he goes in for another kiss. “Gonna take care of you, sweet girl.” His voice is silky against your lips. “Gonna give you everything you need.”

His hands move, bringing your sweater with them to whisk it over your head, and you feel the weight of his appreciative gaze roving over your bare skin and sheer bra.

“I can’t remember when I’ve seen anything so gorgeous.” His hands are back at your sides, fingertips teasing at the edges of the purple lace that leaves little to the imagination. When his eyes meet yours again, they’re blown dark and deep with desire. “And I reckon you’d look even prettier spread out for me on that big bed.”

That’s all it takes to have you scrambling to your feet, shimmying out of your leggings and socks as you cover the handful of steps to the luxurious bed that faces the fireplace. You reach for the clasp of your bra, but a click of Jack’s tongue halts your movement.

“Slow down, there, honey.” There’s a hint of command bleeding into his voice that you know well from missions, the sound of him giving orders and expecting them to be obeyed that always kindles a flame in you. “Let your man unwrap his gift.”

A blush warms your cheeks and trickles down your neck as you drop your hands to your sides and wait for him beside the bed, anticipation tingling in your limbs.

Jack has beautiful hands, as graceful as they are strong, but they’ve never been so mesmerizing as they are now, making quick work of his shirt’s buttons and carelessly shedding it to the floor.

You’ve seen him shirtless before -- it’s hardly avoidable when you spend most of your lives together -- but never like this. Never when you’re openly staring at his broad shoulders and lean waist and the smooth planes of his chest, all bronzed in the glow of firelight. And certainly never when he’s calling himself your man and looking at you like he’s starving and you’re his favorite meal.

His arms slide around your waist and the heated press of his skin against yours tears a soft whimper from your throat. He catches it with his mouth, blends it with his own hum of satisfaction in a searing kiss.

He keeps his lips on yours even as he eases you back onto the bed, laying you down on the fluffy comforter with his hand cradling the back of your head. He stands again for as long as it takes to shuck off his jeans and kick them away before he’s crawling over you, settling his warm weight over your body and into your welcoming arms. You’re so swept up in the kiss that reunites you that you barely notice the skillful flick of his fingers that frees you from your bra...until he bends his hot mouth to your breasts and lightning spikes through your veins.

“So perfect,” he praises against your tender skin. “So good for me.”

He’s perfect. Even more than you’ve imagined on the lonely nights when you give yourself over to fantasies just like this, of Jack pressing you into a mattress and murmuring sweet sentiments in that liquor-and-honey voice while his clever hands find you more than ready for him.

A whine escapes you when the cool air of the room suddenly replaces the heat of his body, leaving you bereft.

“Don’t you worry, honey.” Jack’s voice drops an octave, even as a smirk coaxes his dimple out of hiding. “I said I’d take care of you.”

Warm hands slide your panties down your legs and off, and he strips off his own boxers to come back to you in all his naked glory.

His strong biceps cage you in and his mouth finds yours again as your hands roam greedily over golden skin and taut muscles and the hot, hard length between you.

“Jack, you’re so beautiful,” you sigh, over his panting breaths into your neck. “I’ve wanted this. Wanted you, for so long.”

He raises his head to look at you, lush lips parted and eyes blazing. “Honey, you’ve got me. For as long as you’ll have me.”

He kisses you like he’s sealing a promise.

And then he’s inside you, like he belongs there. Maybe he always has.

Every surge of his body, every stroke of his hands, every gritted curse and word of praise pressed to your skin makes stars burst behind your eyelids, and when you’re clutching blindly at his back and keening his name like an incantation, his voice is a desperate rasp in your ear.

“Let go, sweetheart. I’ll catch you.”

You do. And he does.

And when he grips bruises into your thigh and shudders in your arms and buries a broken declaration of love in your hair, you know beyond a doubt there will never be anyone else.

***

If there’s a heaven, Jack’s pretty sure he's died and gone there to be lying in a cloud of down comforters with you tucked close to his side, head pillowed on his shoulder and legs tangled with his own. The bare skin of your back is petal-soft under his stroking fingers as he watches the firelight dance on the ceiling.

“I love you, Jack,” you murmur, and his heart swells too big for the prison bars of his ribs.

“I love you too, sweetheart.” He laces his fingers with yours on his chest, brings them to his lips. “You know, I dreamed about this,” he confesses.

You raise your head, resting your chin on his chest to look at him. “You did?”

“I did. Felt a little guilty about it, if I’m bein’ honest, but I don’t guess I could help it.”

“I won’t hold it against you.” Your eyes sparkle at him in the dim light. “Did I live up to your dreams?”

He smiles, sweeping a stray lock of hair away from your face. “Oh, honey, they couldn’t hold a candle to the real thing.”

You look pleased with that answer, nuzzling a kiss into his neck before settling your head on his shoulder again.

“I can’t wait to get you home,” he muses. “Have you in my own bed.”

He feels you smile against his skin. “As many nights as you want, cowboy.”

“Careful, there. I might take you at your word, you’ll go home and find movers at your place.”

You sigh out a laugh that’s music to his ears and draw idle shapes on his skin with your fingertips in the quiet.

“Jack,” you say again, soft as a peach blossom.

“Yeah, honey?”

“Will you take me to that farmhouse sometime?”

His greedy heart can already see you there, breathing life into the place.

You, perched on the kitchen counter, feet swinging in time with your chatter while he cooks for you. Sitting with him on the porch swing to watch the sunset splash its tapestry of pink and orange and lavender across the sky. Soft and sweet underneath him in the big cherry wood bed, greeting the pale glow of morning with sleepy eyes and kiss-swollen lips.

A backyard wedding.

Tiny, mewling cries in the night and your silhouette framed with moonlight from the picture window while you nurse a baby who has Jack’s eyes back to sleep.

The peace that washes over him is too good to be true, too hopeful for his battered heart, too honest for his life of compromises.

He closes his eyes, drinks it in anyway. Claims it. Squeezes you a little closer in his arms.

This is the dream that lasts.

“That’s a promise, sugarplum.”

#agent whiskey #agent whiskey x reader #jack whiskey daniels #jack whiskey daniels x reader #pedro pascal #kingsman the golden circle #agent whiskey x female reader #jack whiskey daniels x female reader

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nagitoandkokichioneshots · 3 years

Note

hey!! could i get a nagito x tired!reader oneshot where the reader hasn't slept for awhile and komaeda is trying to make them sleep?

Mod Mikan: I AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG! Schoolwork has been piling up and I want a good job in the future. Thank you for your patience, darling, it means a lot :) And I’m so sorry if the ending is rushed, I really wanted to get this out for you, and I was a bit distracted. I’m really sorry, please forgive me!

(Y/D/J): Your dream job

(F/C): Favorite Candy

"Oh, you’re the ultimate (Y/T)?! Wow, that’s amazing! It must be so much fun having an astonishing talent like that!”

That’s barely scratching the tip of the iceberg

I loved my talent. I really did. Without the skills that I possessed, even before Hope Peak’s academy, I wouldn’t be where I am today. Back in high school, it was safe to say that my professors and classmates helped developed and shape my abilities even more. Now, I work as a(n) (Y/D/J). While my job had it perks, the word ‘fun’ wouldn’t really be the right word to describe it

In my opinion, I’d rather use to the term ‘grueling’

My long-term boyfriend, Nagito, claims that my talent was gifted from heaven since birth. He even called me his ‘angel of hope’ since I believed I was a gift from heaven bested upon him as his ‘ultimate good luck’. While that was an exaggeration, it was also only partially true. I loved to believe that I’ve always had my passion for (Y/T), however my hard-work and determination also played a major aspect in my success

Despite my high work-ethic and strive for perfection, I was nothing more than human. After a few months working in my dream job, I started to feel the after effects of the tiring tasks that was dumped on my already heavy schedule

Racking my brain from these thoughts, I let out a heavy exhale, turning my house key into the lock. I entered my shared house with my boyfriend, tossing my keys onto the foyer table. With the literal kick of taking off my heels, I threw my cross-bag onto the couch as soon as my fatigue eyes fell upon it. Oh, how I wouldn’t give to take even a five minute nap on it. In anyone’s eyes, it just looked like a fuzzy, beige couch. But it was a bed made of clouds in my worn-out brain. I ran a hand through my (H/C) locks, a sour expression forming on my face

When was the last time I actual had a proper night of sleep?

I moved away from the living room, making my way into my home office. As much as I wanted to at least try to get some shut eye, I was still knee deep in work. Nagito didn’t work, due to his mental health. He was usually home almost all the time, either taking care of the cleaning or chores. Today was one of the rare nights he wasn’t home. I focused my weary orbs onto a note stuck onto the fridge, messily written in blue ink

Hajime needed some help with something, so if I’m not home when you come back, you know why. I’m sorry I didn’t text you, it was an urgent call. I hope you understand, my beloved hope. I’ll be back as soon as I can. I love you so much, angel girl! XOXO

-Nagito

A sigh escaped my pink lips, as I treaded towards my home office. I practically melted into the cushioned seat of my desk chair, wanting to sleep right there, right then. But I knew I still had assignments to catch up on, along with overdue paperwork that was waiting to be faxed to the office. An annoyed click of my tongue fell after the drained sigh I just let out, as I poked my finger at my computer monitor, waiting for it to load

*****************************************************************************************************

2:41 am

My dearest apologizes for not emailing this sooner to you, Mr. Grant. I was finishing up another project I had, but I managed to squeeze some time to inform you that the papers you needed filled out are done. I will be sending you the rest in three to five business days. In the meantime, I hope that what I have attached will suffice. Please let me know if--

“(Y/N)?”

My swivel chair squeaked, as I felt the seat turn around with a swift motion of a hand that was not my own. I eyes were ripped from the incomplete email that was meant for my boss. Instead, my eyes were forced to see my pale skinned boyfriend that was standing in front of me. His eyes were filled with worried, all of his usual cheerfulness drained from them. He extended a hand of concern towards me, a box of (F/C) tucked underneath the other one

“Huh? N-Nagito? Welcome back. Is everything okay with Hajime? You were out pretty late,” I crooked out, my voice getting more sapped by every passing minute. He nodded, placing the candies onto my office desk, but quickly turned his attention back to me. He placed a gentle hand onto my shoulder, closing a few inches of space between us

“There was an emergency, but everything is fine now, darling. But...I’m not so sure, seeing your state. You look exhausted,” He frowned, making me look down. My gaze from the floor only lasted a split second, as I pair of skinny fingers lifted my chin to look at Nagito’s green orbs again

“(Y/N), when was the last time you slept? Be honest with me,” He softly demanded, forcing me to come clean. Nagito was no fool. He was more observant and intelligent than the average person, regardless of how much he speaks down about himself. There was no point in lying in a failed attempt to make him feel better

“A good....three....to five.....business days.....” I scowled, crossing my arms. Nagito let out a long exhale, however something about it just made me more mortified with myself. It was the kind of ‘disappointed, overprotective’ spouse sigh. He turned to me with his upset expression, making my heart slowly break

“Why didn’t you tell me, (Y/N)?” He asked me, prying even more hidden information from me. With another suspire, laced with a hint of self-irritation, I unraveled what has been flooding my sleep-deprived mind to my long-term boyfriend

“I just.....want to be hopeful...the angel of hope like you always tell me that I am...” I weakly smiled at him, but knew that it wasn’t the best time to paint a thin coat of fake happiness to this pathetic condition. My meek beam was replaced with my previous scowl

“Everyone always thinks that my job is...’fun’ and I’m so lucky to have it. I didn’t want to look weak, asking people for help....or....or even telling someone I can’t take it....I can take it, Nagito. Really.....I just don’t want to disappoint anyone that believes in me...including you,” I finished, huffing at the end. I was a successful in hiding the tears that were begging my eyes to let them out. But I didn’t allow it

Be strong, (Y/N). Be strong.....

It was no secret that Nagito was huge on compliments. He was my number one supporter in everything I did. He praised all my efforts, believed in me more than anyone else, and showered me with affection and love, even if I lost a personal battle. He was a bit hypocritical, wanting to focus on building my own self-confidence rather than his, but besides that he was the perfect, loving boyfriend. Still, every time he cheered me up and managed to put a smile on my face....I couldn’t help but feel like the most loved person in the world. After all these years....all his efforts, despite him confessing he wasn’t the best at comforting others, made my heart flutter

After all, his beloved hope was feeling despair? Not on his watch!

So this didn’t surprise me

“(Y/N), my darling angel....don’t fuss over this. I mean...you need despair to feel hope,” He began to speak. He took this opportunity to tenderly grab my hand, pulling me from my chair. I thought he was going to lead me to our bedroom, but instead the hand that pulled me closer to him wrapped around my back. He closed the space between us, practically slamming me into his lanky figure. With his other hand, he wrapped it around my legs, scooping me up bridal style

“N-Nagito?! I know I’m tired, but I can walk myself!” I requested from him, raising my voice as loud as I could. However, due to my fatigue, my ‘yelling’ voice was nothing above a normal speaking tone, as Nagito still carried me to the bed, a smirk plastered on his handsome face. I rolled my eyes, but wrapped my arms around his neck

He laid me down on our bed, crouching down to my height. He still kept his cheeky grin on his face, crossing his arms. I couldn’t help but smile myself, knowing that Nagito had the cutest plans to make his angel feel better when they were down in the dumps

“Now, let me bring that hope back inside you. Shall I prepare some Chamomile tea with a plate of (F/C)? When I was coming home from Hajime’s, I noticed the 24 hour store only had one box left of them,” He admitted, provoking a pink colored blush on my cheeks. It was so like Nagito to do something like that, always thinking about what his lover would want

I couldn’t just say ‘yes’ without gushing about how lucky I was to have this man in my life. I just nodded, squeaking out a small ‘thank you’ filled with an endearing amount of affection. He smiled gently at me, kissing my forehead before draping our blanket around my body, leaving the room. I hugged the sheets close to my body, waiting for the marshmallow haired man to come back. Upon returning with the tea and plate of candies, he took his side of bed and handed me the treats. After I was done with the snacks and warm beverage, Nagito took them from me, setting the dirty cup and plate on the dresser on his side. Before I could even express my gratitude towards Nagito, he wrapped his arms around my once again, pulling me close to him. I felt our bodies rock back and forth, as he snuggled his head on top of mine

I could tell Nagito wanted cuddles and to whisper sweet nothings in my ear.....

At least that’s what he wanted to do for me. He just shushed me every time I tried to thank him for taking good care of me. He stroked my hair tenderly whispering to me “You don’t need to thank you, angel. I’ll do anything to see that smile” and “I love you so much, my hope. You just relax, I got you,” He warm breath hit my face, making me feel cozy inside. He cradled me back in forth, singing softly. He was never confident in his singing skills (or anything he did), but I absolutely adored it. After I heard his voice die down after several minutes of staying like this, I yawned one last time for the night, feeling my fatigue take over my body. I was in a much more comfortable position, in my lover’s arms, as I dozed off into sleep

I could’ve sworn that Nagito smiled softly, his hand never stopping the journey of roaming through my (H/C) locks. I felt another kiss being pressed onto my forehead and something along the lines of this filled my ears before I was out like a light

“Sweet dreams, my hope. I love you so much....”

Bonus:

“What the hell is this?!” Your boss, Mr. Grant, exclaimed as he reread the threatening email he was sent

Let all your employees have the week off or bad things will happen

Thank you!

“Who the hell could’ve sent something like this?! I’m not going to give them the week off over a ridiculous email!” He rolled his eyes, shaking his head at the email that was supposed to scare him into closing his office for the week. He began to type a nasty reply to the sender, disagreeing with the what he thought was nothing more than an empty warning made by a coward

Sent!

A smirked curved onto the sender’s lip, seeing the new email on his phone. Lanky fingers ran through a pair of (H/C) locks, yet again, as a precious angel was asleep on their shared bed. Careful not to wake his lover up, Nagito began to dig through the tabs on his safari phone app, eager to make a bomb

“Serves him right for overworking my precious angel of hope......”

#nagito x reader #nagito komaeda #nagito komeada kin #nagito headcanons #nagito oneshots #danganronpa x reader #danganronpa #danganronpa x y/n #nagito x you #danganronpa oneshot #danganronpa goodbye despair

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rubysworld-world-stuff · 3 years

Text

In Another Life

Summary: You were saved from the gray world by the Winchester's and find yourself with all the others at their bunker. So many questions about the new world you're in are running through your head. But there is one secret about Dean you are too curious to know.

Word Count: 3186

A/N: I know I've been MIA for a while now. Mostly because I stopped writing fanfiction and writing original short stories instead. But for some reason I have writer's block and thought why not go back to my roots in order to beat it. So here you go. Hope you like it :) (FYI: (Y/N/N) stands for Your Nickname)

Your POV

You opened your door. Your head poked out as you looked around to see if anyone else was still up and about. When you saw that the hallway was empty, you walked out and closed the door quietly behind yourself as to not disturb the others.

After having stepped through the tear in the universe and into a parallel world everyone was exhausted. Having barely escaped certain death and power ceasing archangels it wasn't surprising that they all went straight to bed in their assigned rooms after settling into the new surroundings.

However, you weren't able to find any rest. Adrenaline was still pumping through your veins even hours after all the excitement, while unanswered questions made your head spin. To say that the past few days had been confusing was an understatement. Nevertheless, the day itself had topped even the craziest shit that had happened during your life so far.

You wandered the hallways aimlessly. Your eyes skipped over the walls, the doors, the books and everything else you passed on your way. Taking in your surroundings, acquainting yourself with the bunker you eventually ended up in the kitchen.

You stopped short in the doorway. To your surprise the kitchen wasn't unoccupied as you had assumed after walking through empty halls, silence your only companion. Apparently one of the brothers that had helped save your friends hadn't been visited by sleep either.

His back was facing you as he sat at the metal table to the right side of the wall. He seemed to be deep in thought judging by his posture. For a moment you considered turning around and heading back to the room you came from without having him notice you. However, the thought quickly escaped your mind.

A lot of questions were swimming around in your head, to which you wouldn't find the answer to on your own, had to do with the man sitting alone at the kitchen table. If he couldn't sleep either, you could as well pick his brain and try to find some sort of rest for yourself. Who knew, maybe some company would help him too.

You cleared her throat. The man flinched before turning around to see what or rather who had disturbed the crippling silence. When his eyes landed on you, he relaxed a little. There was a strange look in his eyes that shifted through countless emotions. You thought you recognized one of them for happiness, but couldn't be sure. Your heart ached a little for the stranger as they quickly dulled over and sadness settled inside them.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

Your voice was barely above a whisper as the quiet had not disappeared completely just yet. You put on a friendly smile in order to try and make the man feel more at ease.

"'s okay. I'm just not used to having people around."

The look on his face never changed while his voice sounded as if it was booming in the silence. He turned back to stare at the beer he was holding between his hands.

You watched him for a bit. Then you braced herself walking around the table to face the hunter.

"I couldn't sleep," you explained yourself even though you knew there was no need to. "May I?"

Without taking his eyes away from his drink he nodded once. You slid onto the seat opposite him.

"It's Dean, right?"

At you question, his eyes flicked up to yours for only a split second. Then they settled back on the beer. What you saw in them made you shiver. It was as if all hope had been sucked out of them. Just like that, there was another question you didn't know the answer to, but you couldn’t pry after he and his brother had opened their home to all these strangers.

"Yeah."

Dean's reply was short, his voice rough. He raised the bottle of beer and took a sip. His eyes were turned toward the ceiling. You knew instinctively he was avoiding to look at you. You tried to ignore the dull pain in your chest at his demeanor. Instead of commenting, you chose another road to go. You swallowed hard, sitting up a little straighter trying not to fidget as much. Your hands were resting on the table tightly clasped together.

"Thank you... for saving us."

The words were sincere. The thanks were long overdue. Moreover, it would have been impolite to start the questioning without as much as a nice word.

"Without you, all my friends would be fried by now. We probably wouldn't have lasted another day."

Dean had taken back to staring at the bottle in his hands. His jaw was set and his face tense as were all the other muscles in his body.

You kept looking at him, gauging his reaction. He was a stranger after all and you would like see a flying glass bottle coming instead of feeling it crash in your face. You would make that mistake only once. On the other hand, you had a feeling that the man opposite you wasn't going to hurt you. Still, you weren’t about to take any chances.

"No problem."

The reply surprised you. You had expected him to explain to you that they didn't do it for them, but to save the blond woman and Lucifer's kid, Jack. You stayed silent for a moment puzzling over it. After a little while you shook the confusion out of you head, assuming it had something to do with the fact that he didn't want to talk at all given his previous curt answers.

Realizing that you might not get any answers tonight - or from Dean in general - you let out a soft sigh. Despite your hope dissipating, you made one last attempt. If he already hated you, there was nothing to lose.

"Listen, if this isn't a good time or in case you don't want to talk to me, it's fine, I get it." You hated the hopelessness being evident in your voice. You cringed but kept going. "The reason I can't sleep is because there are too many questions roaring in my mind and I can't shut them up no matter what I try because I don't have any answers. I don’t know this world, I don’t know anything about it and that gives me a headache. I don’t know how to protect my people or myself for that matter, and that is something I don’t like. It makes me want to throw up."

After all the words that were stuck inside of you for the entire day, you felt exhausted. You let your head hang low kicking yourself for sounding so desperate and whiny. You hated that you couldn't figure it all out yourself and instead were dependent on others to give you the answers you so desperately needed. For your survival and the survival of the others.

Surprise, or rather shock, made your head fly up when you heard a deep chuckle coming from your late night company. You stared at Dean open-mouthed. There was a smile on his face for only just a second before it disappeared again. You would have felt offended that Dean seemed to laugh at you for the things you spilled out at night, but the laugh had sounded nothing like that. Instead, it was more of an understanding laugh; one that said 'of course you do, that's just you.'

What made her completely bewildered was when Dean spoke more than only one word.

"Let me guess, I bet you hate yourself that you have to asked someone else for help and can't figure out the situation by yourself."

It was a simple statement, there was no humor in it or satisfaction at guessing what was going on inside your head. There was just.... a certainty that those had to be your thoughts.

You were taken aback. Your eyebrows furrowed and you couldn't stop staring at the stranger that seemed to know you so well. He had been spot on with his guess and you knew that he knew it. Although you didn't understand the reason behind how he could know.

As you didn't say anything, too dumbfounded, Dean let out a sigh, took another swig of his beer and spoke once more without having to be prompted.

"Shoot."

He was looking at you. Really looking at you. His eyes were focused on yours showing you that you had all of his attention.

Seeing his eyes boring into you, you felt as if you had been transported to a forest. Not the dull grey one you had just escaped from but a bright one where the trees had radiant green leaves. You imagined hearing birds singing, squirrels rushing by making the leaves rustle and you could see the golden sun shining through the tree tops illuminating the scene, making everything seem lighter. For once, you didn't hate the forest; for once you felt safe.

You tore your eyes away. It was like pulling apart two strong magnets. Once you were free of Dean's mesmerizing eyes, you took in a sharp breath. Slowly your mind cleared up from the daze you had been under and soon enough all the questions you had came pouring back. One was particularly loud and clear screaming inside her head.

Before you could stop yourself, you heard yourself already blurting it out despite what a terrible idea it was.

"Earlier, when you were guiding everyone through the tear and I wanted to wait for some more people, what did you mean when you said 'I'm not losing you again?'"

Your eyes were back on him. This time you were careful not to get lost in them.

Dean let out a sigh. His head turned down leading his gaze to the table once more. The question had been inevitable, but it might not have been the right moment.

"(Y/N/N)."

You flinched at the nickname. You had never heard it before, but you immediately knew it was yours. It sounded right. Especially coming from the man on the other side of the table. When he said it, it was as if a warm blanket had been wrapped around you. Never had you felt anything like this before.

"I'm sorry," Dean apologized as soon as he saw your reaction, reprimanding himself silently and reminding him that it was not you. You weren’t his (Y/N/N).

You watched Dean gulp. You couldn't stop staring at him. You waited patiently for him to answer your question. Your bottom lip pulled between your teeth as they were working on it. Anxiety grew in your body.

"Someone like you existed in this world,” Dean answered after what felt like an eternity. “I mean another version of you... I mean she had the same name, looked just like you. Basically, you are an exact copy of her. I mean, not that you aren't valid or less real- I mean-"

Dean broke off his rambling. He didn't dare to look at you. You guessed it would be better that way. His explanation had hit you off-guard. You had no idea what your face might be giving away from the emotions playing out inside of you: shock, confusion, pity and fear.

He reached up one hand letting it slide over his face, but although you were still staring at him, you barely noticed the movement. Your head was spinning and you had no idea how to react or what to do with this information. This was a total mess.

Once more one of your thoughts was louder than the others: He was in love with her. As soon as the thought hit you, another one followed: She isn’t with him. A shiver went down your spine and you felt the color leaving your face.

Dean’s POV

He felt like a complete idiot. He didn't dare look at the woman in front of him, knowing too well that a mixture of hurt, offense and confusion must be displayed on her face. He reprimanded himself for having answered the question at all. But looking into the eyes of the person he once…

He reached up one hand to let it slide over his face in an attempt to try and organize his thoughts. He had no idea how he was supposed to explain his (Y/N) to the one sitting at the table with him now. This was a total mess.

In addition, a little sparkle of hope had settled in his chest. Hope that somehow this version was his (Y/N) - in some sense. Hope, that he might get another chance. He didn’t know where it came from.

As soon as he felt it, hope was replaced by shame. Shame, that he could feel that way about someone else that clearly wasn't her, but just someone who looked like her; someone who wore her face. Guilt washed over him. Guilt on how he could dare to think about replacing her, his best friend, the love of his life. He couldn't taint the memory of her like that.

He raised his beer to his lips once again, hoping the alcohol would eventually shut up his destructive thoughts, numb his body, his pain, only to find it empty. Dean pressed his eyes close. He felt so lost. All he needed was for his (Y/N) to help him and tell him what to do and how to untangle this chaos. But that was never going to happen.

So he did the next best thing he could think of. Dean opened his eyes and looked at the person opposite him. He prayed that seeing her image would be enough to calm him. He wished that it would give him the strength and inspiration he so desperately needed right then.

That's when he realized the truth.

The (Y/N) from the other world had the same hair color, the same eye color, but it wasn't her. Behind those eyes sat a different person, one he didn't know. There was no second chance. Having her here was only a reminder that he had failed her.

A silent tear slipped out of his eye. He wiped it away quickly as not to make his emotions obvious. But it was to no avail. (Y/N) had seen and her face changed to pure pity. He knew she could see right through him, see the man that had been left behind, a shell. But he also knew in the left over pieces of his heart that she wasn’t the person who could fix it.

"I'm not her," she whispered.

He took in a shaky breath; the truth he had realized seconds before hitting him like a punch to the stomach as they were spoken out loud by the same voice that had coaxed him to sleep so many nights.

Your POV

Only as you watched Dean’s reaction did you realize that that was the problem. And those had been the wrong words.

"I'm sorry," you hurried to say as you averted your eyes leaving him some privacy with his emotions.

You weren't sure what you were apologizing for exactly. The fact that you weren’t her? The fact that obviously something had happened to this version of you? For the way Dean felt? It was probably a mix of everything.

The urge to take away his pain was strong. Another thing you didn't understand. Since the first second you had seen the green-eyed hunter, you had been drawn to him. In your world, you didn't trust anyone anymore. But that man on the other side of the table only had to look at you intently and without a doubt you had trusted him, you had faith in him.

You couldn't deny the attraction you felt towards the hunter. Whenever their eyes would meet, your heart skipped a beat and your breath caught in your throat.

But you weren't going to acknowledge that feeling sitting in your chest. You would push it down hoping it would eventually go away. It wouldn't be good for either of you to act on these emotions.

His pain was too raw and you weren’t the right person to fill the hole inside of him, no matter how alike you and the (Y/N) from this universe had looked. In the end, you were two different people. You spoke again after a moment of silence, your voice soft.

"You don't have to explain. I think I understand. Or most of it anyway. I'm sorry I brought it up, it's none of my business."

You wanted to make up for bringing all these emotions back to Dean. You didn't want him to feel obligated to tell you anything about the person you had been in this universe. The last thing you wanted was for him to think you were nosy and push him away completely. He didn't deserve this. He didn’t deserve being hurt by the only other person that looked like the woman he loved.

"I think I better get back to my room. I'm really tired."

You faked a yawn to sell it, although you weren't sure he bought it. As you glanced at him he nodded, but otherwise stayed silent and unmoving, eyes averted.

You got up and started to head out of the kitchen. As you reached the entrance way you turned back one more time to look at the man you had left behind.

Dean had hung his head low and cradled it in his hands. His body was occasionally shaking with a sob. Seeing this tough man like this made your heart ache even more and tears gathered in your eyes.

You turned on your heel and continued to your room, your bottom lip shaking as tears slowly ran down your cheeks. As much as you wanted to be, you weren't the right person to comfort him. It wasn't you his heart was yearning for. There was nothing you could do to numb his pain. Not yet anyways. Maybe not ever.

As you closed the door to your room behind you and slid down it, you decided to stay away from him in hopes to not cause him anymore pain. You had done enough. You would talk to Sam tomorrow about this universe and head out right after to make it on your own. Just like you always did.

The fact that Dean was so upset to talk about his (Y/N) and her not being around in the bunker spoke volumes. Whatever had happened, it had left a barely scraped over wound and your presence would rip it wide open day after day, again and again. There was no place for you here.

The thought shouldn't have scared you, never mind made you sad. You didn't know the brothers or the two angels. But somehow, the prospect of not having them in your life filled you with dread.

The tears were flowing faster now, cascading down your face.

Suddenly the wish to have stayed behind in the colorless universe crashed down on you. It would have been gentler on your heart.

#supernatural #spn #supernatural one shot #spn one shot #dean winchester #dean winchester one shot #In Another Life #fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfiction #dean winchester fanfiction #reader insert #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader

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darkdevasofdestruction · 4 years

Text

Take My Hand ~ Lucifer x Reader

For so many, even those who know him, Lucifer is an enigmatic riddle that will never be solved. A question with no answer. A blank, white puzzle. He keeps his stoic facade at all times, overworks himself on anything Diavolo gives him, and if he runs out of work, he finds more, from somewhere that nobody, even the young Prince, has no idea.

He’s always so strict and proper, dresses royal and there is seemingly no imperfection to him. Hell, even Asmo, the most narcissistic brother, is not-so-secretly jealous of his beauty and dominant and mysterious aura that engulfs him, that makes him even more enticing than one could think.

So what is the mysterious of this overly strict Fallen, the one that God loved the most, the one that led the Rebellion of the Celestial War aeons ago, actually hiding? What emotions is he so desperately trying to hide behind those sharp, ruby eyes of him that read into you like infrared?

What kind of fragility is trying to hide being that frozen block that became his heart that aches and burns harder than the Sun itself?

Perhaps that is something that only someone with a fresh perspective shall witness, someone who walks around like a ghost, unnoticeable, yet her eyes are wide and attentive, that can peer right into the depths of anyone’s soul.

They are complete opposites, and yet, they are more alike than anyone could even begin to realise - That is, if they are so adamant to be ignorant, as they’ve always been.

Apart from Solomon, not one, but two other humans were brought into Devildom, and that is because fate made it so that Lucifer chose a girl that had a sister.

A twin sister.

So of course, you cannot separate twins, so Diavolo was okay with bringing both of them, thinking it would be reminiscent of the 6th and 7th brothers, especially for their personalities are like light and day, like the Sun and the Moon, both of them beautiful, yet completely different.

And that was quickly made obvious once they arrived, for the brothers quickly swamped all over the younger sister, since she was a lovable, social butterfly, an extroverted free soul who loves to fool around and bend the rules to breaking point.

The older sister, however, was an introvert of few words, yet all of them were meaningful. She was incredibly diligent and hard-working, studying since the first day in RAD, she was much too busy to even bother going out of her way to break the rules, and had to do everything in her power to get her sister out of trouble, including doing her homework, to avoid detention.

The eldest brother, the most attentive, was quick to realise that all the brothers were attracted to the sunshine like moths to the fire that they didn’t even bother approaching the zircon wrapped in a velvet handkerchief.

He was, however, completely drawn to her...Or maybe it was the mystery surrounding her that he was interested in? He read once, in a human book, that the most intriguing is the journey, not the destination, yet he couldn’t help but wonder if it was similar to going to one’s soul.

Y/N’s soul was pure, it was bright, it was beautiful and tempting, which went in complete anti-thesis with the facade she pulled for everyone - And just like twins are, like Yin and Yang, she was truly the complete opposite of her bright sister that held a dark soul.

But days began to rapidly pass by, and with each day, countless of problematic events happened, that made Lucifer, and not only him, pissed off beyond belief, at the younger sister, and the older one was forced to bare the consequences and solve the problem..

These continuous occurrences started eroding her soul, bit by bit, darkening it, overshadowing her light, and it was beginning to concern the raven haired man, for, in the end, it was still his job to make sure the humans are okay and comfortable in Diavolo’s Kingdom.

Exams were coming along, and Lucifer could see Y/N was beginning to become much paler and less talkative. He didn’t see her as often outside of the classroom, and even to meals that they would always share together...And he began to worry.

He knows very well that humans are very frail, weak and sensitive creatures, that constantly needed to be taken care of, and he knew very well that she wouldn’t have much until she’d collapse.

“Does anyone have a pen, please? All of mine have been completely used up, and I need to urgently finish an assignment.”

Speak of the devil, Lucifer thought, as his D.D.D.’s notification sound popped on his study desk, where he, himself, was also working on his own assignments, and he chuckled at the coincidence, and pondered over if he should tease her a bit, to provoke her, or not.

Something that Lucifer always loved was to push someone’s boundaries...Not some pushover like Mammon, clearly, but strong, dominating people, much like Satan, much like himself. He wanted to see how far can he push someone until they get angry, until they lose their composure, until they show their true face, until their facade crumbles, and they are no longer the self they show to everyone.

It’s satisfying seeing others step on their pride...

Since he would never do that, clearly. He isn’t the Avatar of Pride for nothing.

Asmo: Nope! I only have my personalised, engraved pen, and I can’t give it to everyone! Beel: Sorry, I accidentally ate all my pens while trying to write my homework. Belphie is sleeping. Levi: I don’t have pens, I write everything on my laptop. Satan: I always misplace mine. I only have the one I keep in my notebook. Mammon: Lol, you’re doing homework? Hah, what a dork! Sorry, I ain’t using Goldie to buy pens! Why not ask your sister? Anyka: You bought 10 pens barely 2 weeks ago, how the hell did you even finish them? Y/N: I have a lot to do. Do you have any spare pens? Anyka: Lol nope x Ask Lucifer or idk Barbatos??

The opportunity is shining, so...Should he start provoking her? Or would that break her even more? This should certainly be interesting... And if anything happens, he always knows when to put a stop to this charade. “I have a spare fountain pen, if it would do.” he sent her a DM, waiting for an answer. “Perfect. Are you in your study, or your bedroom?” she sent an immediate answer, which made him smirk. “Study. If you beg me nicely, I can also give you the ink for it.” he was playing with fire, and damn, was it exhilarating. “You...Want me to...Beg? For a pen and ink? To do my assignments? I don’t think Diavolo would be pleased to hear that.” she typed after an obvious few moments of hesitation. “Sometimes compromises must be made in order to achieve your goal. You are aware, I am sure, that if you do not finish your homework for tomorrow, you will receive detention.” this was getting very interesting, and he couldn’t wait to see what her next step would be. “Fine. I will ask Barbatos then. Thanks for the offer. Have a pleasant night.” she cut him off with clear acid in her words, which made Lucifer chuckle in satisfaction.

She was though, and entertaining. What an adorable little lamb.

And it was true, she asked Barbatos, who told her that he couldn’t go over to the House of Lamentation, for he has to take care of Diavolo, and he refused to allow her to leave the dorms without someone by her side to make sure no stray demon attacks her.

That was a true bummer.

So...She had to step on her pride to get a stupid pen to finish her assignments. It wasn’t even homework, but she still had hours of work she had to do. It was barely midnight, she couldn’t even attempt to go sleep now.

Going to sleep means obvious overthinking, which means lack of sleep, so better be productive and work, then destroy yourself more than you already are, doing nothing, while staring and cursing the ceiling.

Y/N sighed, breaking the pen in two out of anger, and wobbly got out of her study chair, making a bee line to Lucifer’s study and knocking on the door, waiting to hear the approval word to enter the room. She barely opened the door, walking in front of the seated form of Lucifer, who held his spare fountain pen almost mockingly in front of her.

He was watching her like a hawk, every movement analysed as if under a microscope, almost as if he was carefully searching for any flaw or mistake she would make. However, he could see she wasn’t well. She was sleep deprived, her complexion was much paler than normal, she had dark bags under her eyes...And her posture was slouched, almost sloppy. Lucifer knew she has always been a diligent person, so the homework couldn’t possibly be long overdue. She would have done it in the day it was given. So...What was the urgency? Could it be that...She was...Just like him?

“I’m not sure how I’m supposed to beg for a pen, but, Lucifer, may I please borrow your pen? I promise to return it to you tomorrow, buy a new ink, to your preference, as soon as classes are over and I can go to proper shopping.” her voice was tired, just like her mind and body. She held no emotions in her words. It was almost as if she was intentionally damaging herself to make up for-

Oh.

Perhaps she wasn’t as different from him as he thought she was, and now, at least, he can better understand why she was deteriorating as fast as she was.

“You can keep it, I don’t mind. However, as the head of the student council, and the one who has to overlook this exchange program, I would have to advise you to take better care of yourself and rest, instead of overworking yourself.” Lucifer told her, with a less condescending voice, only to receive a sarcastic scoff, which confused him. “Tell me that when you’re going to follow your own advice.” and she left.

A chuckle escaped his mouth as soon as the door was closed, and for the first time in ages, he actually went to bed early...For his standards. He had to be very attentive of this one, however...She was much more interesting than he believed.

And the first thing he saw in the morning, as he stepped in the classroom, he saw Y/N handing a file to her sister - A file with all the homework for the whole week, that is - And now he could understand why she was overworked. She was going about life in all the wrong ways...Not that he should be one to talk. He knows his own faults, but admitting them to another is a complete different matter.

But things were going to take a horrid turn for the worst, beginning with Diavolo calling everyone for the Student Council meeting, only to announce that the exchange students were going to have a lowered pass/fail line anymore, but will have to work and achieve the demons’ standards and rise to the challenge given.

“If you’re going to control a demon’s powers, you need to have a proper understanding of them and how they should be used.” Diavolo said, which made him realise that the twins, somehow, managed to make pacts with all of the brothers...All of them, sans one. That one being himself, of course. “Hey, whoa, that’s a bit sudden, don’t you think? Exams are just around the corner!” Anyka protested, obviously shocked. “RAD exams are surprisingly tough.” Belphie nodded in agreement. “I’m sure both of you are going to do great, especially if you’ve studied a little bit throughout the semester.” Diavolo smiled, as usual, and the older twin mimicked no emotion on her face. “But...! But I haven’t! I had fun with the brothers all this time...What am I gonna do?! Y/N, say something!” the younger twin shook her sister, waking her up from her trance. “Hmm...? What should I say? He’s right.” she shrugged, not bothering to look at anyone. “I’ve already considered that, and I have a plan. Satan, you are going to be tutoring Y/N and Anyka up until the day of exams.” Lucifer dumped the responsibility on the blond brother, who was barely able to say anything from the shock of being put on the spot. “Oh, that’s perfect! Thank you soooo much, Satan! You’re the best!” Anyka jumped on the 4th born, who chuckled awkwardly. “Thanks, but I can do this by myself. If this was all, then I’m going to see you during the exams. Bye.” she gave a brief peace sign, before leaving to her room, no doubt continuing her studying.

Obviously, Lucifer knew she had it in the bag if she focused. She’s a smart girl, she won’t have any problem...If she stays healthy, that is. There was something about her that made him want to approach her, to hold her face, to look her in the eyes and tell her to stop doing this to herself. There was something about her innocence and heart that made him want to protect her at all cost, even if that meant protecting her from herself. He pondered offering to tutor her, but what could he even tutor her about, when she clearly knows everything there needs to be learnt about the exams?

He wanted to kiss her hands and reassure her that everything will be okay, and he wanted to hold her tight and help her fall asleep without having running thoughts through her head all the time.

But he can’t do that, can he? If he were to approach her, she’d run away, like a scared little baby fawn trying to find her mama, while being chased off by a hunter. He had to be gentle with her, delicate, to lure her into a sense of security and safety...A warm haven by his side...

But can he really manage to do that, when he’s supposed to be the Big Bad Scary Wolf who punishes everyone and doesn’t allow happiness in the dorms, as per so gracefully described by his lovely brothers?

The first day of the exams came much faster than Y/N realised - She had no idea how time flew by so fast, it felt like she just blinked and bam, exam days - So here she was, drinking her 3rd coffee for the morning while writing her answers for the exam.

Caladrius Blood was the third ingredient for that famous ancient elixir that required Powdered unicorn hood and bittergrass root, for the Magical Potions exam from that morning...

A forest, what covered the surface of Devildom shortly after it came into existence, the answer for the History exam from the afternoon...And a three-legged crow being the relief sculpture at the entrance to the Devildom royal tomb...

Yes, these were all incredibly easy questions, she had no problem, clearly. And that was the same for the 2nd day, with the hexes and curses... And then came the practical exam...Seductive Speechcraft test.

She looked around the classroom with a frown, knowing she had to pair up with someone, but all the brothers were crowding around her sister, and she could only sigh, looking down with her arms crossed, not knowing what to do.

��Would you like to pair up with me, Y/N?” Lucifer’s voice rang soothingly in her ear, making her turn around, her eyebrow raised in confusion. “You...Want to pair up...With me?” she asked in a slow, unsure voice, which made him smile and nod. “Yes, is something wrong with that?” he bent down slightly, getting closer to her face. “No, of course not. I was just...Surprised that anyone wanted to pair up with me. Anyway, we should get started.” she nodded, looking away from him and guiding him to a more secluded part of the classroom. “You have to be the one doing the seducing. I am really curious how you are going to proceed. Could you, perhaps, be...Scared?” with his infamous smirk, he looked smugly at how her otherwise unfaltering facade began to break slightly. “No...It’s just...If I knew I was going to be the one doing the seducing, I would have put on some make up this morning, so I wouldn’t look like I just woke up from death after being buried for 100 years...No, make that 1000 years.” she corrected herself after taking a quick look at her reflection on her D.D.D. “I can assure you, your appearance, for us, demons, won’t change a thing. It’s the words and gestures that matter.” he let out a soft chuckle, watching her nod in acknowledgement. “Okay, if you say so, then I will have to believe you. Can you promise me that you won’t attempt to kill me...Again...No matter what I say or do? Trust me, I want top grades, and I’m going to do anything in my power to snatch them.” her voice now was much firmer, and it sounded clearer, more confident. It was clear that her pride and ambition were on the line, and he wanted to see how she was going to seduce him. He could feel electricity running through his veins from the excitement. “Yes, of course. I won’t do anything to you. In fact, I will be the human, and you will be the demon. You have all the power now. Amaze me, Y/N.” he watched her turn to the side slightly, as if preparing her A-Game face - He was expecting her to try out an impersonation of a succubus, since they were plenty in Devildom, but what she did...Was beyond Lucifer’s power of comprehension.

Her eyes held a glimmer of innocence and pity, her soul somehow seemed to glow with purity and light, just like it was when she first arrived. Her demeanour wasn’t assertive, confident and mysterious, but held a tint of submissiveness and glowing affection, as if she wanted to touch him, but she was too afraid to approach a deity.

He thought that, as he gazed with interest at the girl in front of him, only to be shocked completely by how sweetly alluring her voice could sound, and he almost felt the need to have her cup his face so he could melt into her warm, soothing caress.

“Lucifer...Have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately? Have you noticed how your health is starting to decline? I know you are a demon, and a few hours cut off your usual sleeping schedule won’t mean much for you, but you are exhausted, Lucifer. I hate seeing you like that...Overworking yourself...Finding more work to get piled under, even if you’ve already finished your assignments. I worry about you, and your health...But more...I worry about the reasons for your overworking. I know you’re trying so hard to keep away all the intrusive thoughts that keep plaguing your mind...You think that working to exhaustion is going to keep your mind busy, so you’ll sleep without having to overthink.” hearing those words, Lucifer truly wondered if she had veela or succubus genes in her family, or if her tongue was laced with the sweetest poison there is. She slowly approach him, gingerly holding both of his hands, looking down, imitating a timid kitten, and guiding him to the nearest chair behind him, so she could be at his height...Just a little above, creating the perfect angle to change from a submissive expression, to a more dominating, seductive gaze.

“You’re always so concerned about your brothers, wanting to make sure everything goes perfectly, to the plans that you create, because if things go out of control, you are afraid they will have to suffer...Just like it happened when you led the Rebellion. You still feel guilty for what happened. You are afraid that they regret following you...And so, you are purposely hurting yourself...And this self-inflicted pain became your own sense of comfort and defense. You are afraid that, if somehow, you indulge in your pleasure and the pain disappears, things are going to go out of control completely. You are afraid of the unknown and what it could bring...But trust me, Lucifer...I promise you...They love you. They love you, just as much as you love them. They don’t regret following you. You are a family, and they are happy and content staying together, all 7 of you, together. You deserve to be happy too, Lucifer. You deserve to allow yourself a day off from all this mess, and indulge in your pleasures.” she was so close to him, whispering in his ear, then crouching down, holding his hands, keeping them together and kissing them softly, sending shivers down his spine...But more, he froze completely on the spot. He was shocked...His mind was almost completely blank...Because...How could she possibly know all of this? How can she speak like that? She’s just a human...So...How...? Surely, his brothers had no idea, so how could she, a mere human who came by less than an year ago, understand and know him so well? His heart was beating fast, and it was in pain. It was expecting...It was conflicting everything he ever stood for. A day off? A day for himself? A day of self-care? A day...With her...?

“Won’t you allow me to take away the pain, just for the night? Allow yourself to feel something else other than pain and misery. Allow yourself to be happy. To feel emotional pleasure. Allow yourself to be yourself again, only for a night, because Lucifer, you are not a robot, or a machine, you are not programmed, wired, or running or petrol or gasoline. You have a beautiful heart that feels so much, but you are afraid of the myriad of unknown emotions that are desperately trying to burst out and scream at you to let loose...Because you can. You showed me that you are capable of letting loose, when we were stuck in Levi’s game. Do you remember, Lucifer? We were up on the roof, you had your hair in my lap, and I stroked it gently...You were smiling so beautifully...So carefree...Because you had no worries on your mind or heart. You were yourself. And you were happy.” she put her forehead to his, speaking softly, barely above a whisper, but despite her tone, her words spoke loudly, strongly, into his heart, making it pump faster and faster, energy shooting through his every nerve, vein, artery and capillary...His mind was completely captivated, and his heart was captured. Without even realising, his lips were parted and his eyes were wide from the shock, imagining himself in this utopic paradise that she created merely with her words.

“All you have to do is take my hand and follow me. It’s simple. You can do it, Lucifer. Let yourself feel. Let yourself be...What do you say?” she was perfect. She didn’t break her act for not even a split second. The sparkle in her eyes was there from the beginning to the end, and he could feel her fast-beating heart - It was regular for her, as she had the heart rate of a rabbit - It almost seemed natural for her to persuade and sweet-talk anyone like that. Without even realising it himself, he took her hand, looking at her eyes with an expression of wonder, awe and complete fascination...Until she gave him a devilish smirk, and her eyes started glinting with mischief, which made him frown slightly in confusion.

“I won.” was the last thing she said to him before pulling away from him completely, retorting to her bland and pained, exhausted demeanour. “If I made even Lucifer look at me with glazed eyes and made him take my hand, to take him to some dreamland oasis, then I’m sure I deserve the highest mark in the class.” she chuckled with a deadpan expression on her face, not looking at him. “How...Did you do that?” he asked in a low voice, almost not believing what just happend. “Oh, that was possibly the easiest thing I’ve ever done in a long while. You see...I hold great pride in being incredibly intuitive, perceptive, detail-oriented and being able to properly read people...And their hearts. If I had Asmo, I would have told him that he has an amazing personality, and he’s not just all-looks. If it was Mammon, I’d have showered him with praises. If it was Beel, I would have played the family, Lilith and guilt card...And the list goes on. If you, however, are asking how I managed to say all the right words to you...Well...It’s a bit different...And personal.” she spoke, looking at the teacher with a half-smirk as she was given the highest mark, and rightfully so. “What could be so personal that you managed to speak to me as if you are some ancient demon who has been luring people for aeons with her sweet words laced with acid?” he stood up, looking down at her with a stern expression, yet his mind and heart were fighting a war of conflict. “...I told you everything I would have liked someone to tell me all this time.” the raven haired man could see sadness clouding her face, before leaving to her room.

That was a true experience for Lucifer, he couldn’t deny that to himself, and more, for the whole day, no matter how much he tried to work - Her words kept haunting him, and as soon as he picked up the pen, he immediately thought back at the exam and threw it back on the desk.

He tried taking a hot bath, tried listening to that TSL soundtrack, but she was the one to give it to her, after she spent a fortune on Akuzon for his birthday present, but of course, he thought back at her, and he had to stop the music altogether.

Everything he did, he was reminded of those words that held the flavour of the Poison Apples he eats so often, and it was driving him insane. He could feel his brain overheating, and the pressure on his chest was so great that he wanted to dig his nails into his chest and rip apart the flesh, take out the heart and stomp on his heart, because he couldn’t take it anymore. He was a demon, and he was a heavy sinner - He NEEDED to grab her hand and escape the horror of reality. He needed to feel that he wasn’t bound by space, nor time, a body or a brain - He needed to be just one soul, bound to another, to feel no more pain, no more reality - Only euphoria, content, happiness, pleasure.

He couldn’t believe he was so willing to give in to his desires, and it was only because of her. It was HER fault. And yet, her last words before her departure from the classroom kept echoing constantly -

“I told you everything I would have liked someone to tell me all this time.”

He was right all along.

She truly was like him. She was the only one who could properly understand him, and likewise, he was the only one who could take her pain away. Maybe it was his guardian-complex, having to constantly look after someone, needing to be useful to someone... He needed her, as much as she needed him... Because, unlike him, she could easily waste away, as she is nothing more than a human resembling the first Snowdrop in Spring. He could resist until the end of this world, just as he has done until now, but she couldn’t.

The endless train of thoughts was interrupted by yet another knock on his door, that proved to be the same person that plagued his mind - The little lamb walked into the wolf’s den, almost as if summoned, out of her own accord.

To bring him back his fountain pen, along with the promised high-quality ink...It made him chuckle at how adorable and thoughtful she was being, without realising.

“...You are troubled by something. Do you...Want to talk about it...Or should I leave you alone? I did say some pretty heavy words today, I understand if you wouldn’t want to stay in the same room as me for a while.” she gingerly put the items on his study, not looking up at him. “How come you never looked me in the eyes until then?” he asked, looking at her from the office chair. “I...Was never able to look anyone in the eyes, in my life. Now even my sister or my mother. It makes me start panicking...I get intimidated and scared...So I look away. I forced myself to behave the way I was supposed to, but it was the last thing from comfortable. Don’t take it personal.” she chuckled awkwardly, stepping back. “I was surprised that your words had such an impact that I was ready to follow you...But would you follow me? Would you be able to do the very thing that you told me just today? Would you be willing to strip away that facade of yours, take care of yourself, and allow your heart to feel again?” he asked, stepping slowly in front of her, almost resembling a predator prowling to its prey. “...I don’t want to break down and cry, because if I do...Things will only go downhill, very fast and very hard. I’m...Usually on a downward spiral, but when the wave hits...It takes a long time to swim back to the surface...And I’m sure for how many more times will I have the strength to move and breathe.” she muttered, shuffling on her feet, and Lucifer could understand very well. He could see how frail she has become, and it was all because her brain was working against her so heavily, for whatever reason that was eroding her so badly. “If you promise to stay by my side, I will be here to hold your hand and pull you out of the stormy tides. I will walk next to you for your whole journey, until you get tired of me. You just have to take my hand and let yourself be...Let yourself feel. Let out all the pent up emotions, then smile at me, because you have a beautiful smile, and I haven’t seen it in ages. I know you are afraid...It is frightening walking alone, in the dark, with so many monsters around you, ready to gnaw and maul at you...By I will be there, waiting for you, guiding you with a flashlight, ready to hold and protect you...So...What will you do, Y/N? Do you seek salvation and happiness, or are you ready to give up on yourself and want to succumb to the bottomless pit of the abyssal ocean you were thrown into.” he mimicked the way she talked, the way she moved, the way she articulated her words, as he took his gloves off, touching her face and softly caressing it, bending slightly to peer into her eyes.

He could see that she was afraid - She was beginning to tremble, her eyes were glossy, brimming with tears, her bottom lip was quivering and the conflict of good and evil was obvious inside of her - Her hands were in the air, ready, but not entirely, to grab his hands...

“All you have to do is take my hand and follow me. It’s simple. You can do it, Y/N. Let yourself feel. Let yourself be...What do you say?” he mimicked her own words, wanting to see if it would be enough of a push for her

Choosing was truly a mortifying experience, but she was strong, he knew that - And that was made obvious when her shoulders finally started shaking, her breath becoming ragged....

And she threw her arms around his torso, letting rivers and rivers of tears fall down her already exhausted face. Her body was so small compared to his, so small...And so cold, in his warm arms...He couldn’t help but hold her tighter, stroking her hair soothingly, putting a kiss on the top of her head.

“Please take care of me, I don’t know how much longer I can do this. I-I don’t want to leech off of you...I’ve always been everyone’s therapist...And I know how much it sucks...B-But you’re the only one who ever bothered to show me any kindness and understanding. Please, Lucifer, don’t let me drown...I’m so tired of swimming...I can’t go on.” her sobs were so pitiful and broken that it shattered his heart and resolve, and all he could do was guide her to the bed, knowing she was too weak to sit up for too long, and started rocking her gently, as he would do with his brothers long ago, in the Celestial Realm, whenever they were upset or had a nightmare.

“Don’t worry, Y/N, I’m here, and I’m not going away until you tell me to. You won’t drown...You grabbed the lifeline the second you took my hand, and I’m going to make sure you keep floating above the sheen of the water and have no problem breathing.” he reassured her, knowing very well how hopeless it feels being in that situation...But now they could at least cling onto each other for help, support, love brightness.

“How...? How did you know everything...?” she asked, clutching on his shirt, almost as if the harder she pulled, the better the chances of survival. “Because the very words you told me are what you needed to hear the most.”

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pastelsandpining · 3 years

Text

Girl Talk

I TOTALLY FORGOT WHO POSTED THE ORIGINAL POST ABOUT THIS IF YOU KNOW THE POST PLEASE LET ME KNOW THIS IS SO OVERDUE OH MY GOD I’M SO SORRY

Words: 1248 - This was supposed to be longer but I just.. lost inspiration and it’s cut short. If there’s a demand for a part two then heyyy maybe I’ll write more

Summary: After Link’s heroic hand grab, Zelda and Impa can’t help but spend a while talking about it. You know, the way teenage girls do.

Totally Age of Calamity Zelink

Masterlist

With the day they’d had, she knew this was the last thing she should be worried about. With the amount of monster attacks growing nearly every week and how close they’d gotten to the castle today, on top of the guardian nearly shooting her head clean off, she should not have been concerned with something so trivial. Yet as soon as they were away from her father and in the safety of her bedroom with the door shut firmly behind them, Zelda dissolved into the giggling mess she’d kept hidden for hours. Impa too was laughing, giving her shoulders a gentle shake.

“Goddesses,” said the princess, burying her face in her hands.

“I’ve never seen him before!” Impa cried. “Is he new? He’s so young!”

“I don’t know! I don’t know every soldier in the army! That’s my father’s job,” Zelda argued, dropping her hands with a groan.

“Well, you should! He totally likes you.”

Zelda’s cheeks flushed quite furiously, and she was vaguely aware she looked like a fish with how she sputtered and scrambled for a reply.

“What? That’s utterly ridiculous!” she finally spat, gripping the blankets tighter. “He was simply doing his job-“

“Last I checked, the soldiers of Hyrule aren’t required to grab the hand of the princess!”

“He was guiding me to safety-“

“No one else did it! Come on, Princess, why’s it such a bad thing? He’s not bad on the eyes, and he reflected that guardian’s laser like it was nothing!”

Zelda grabbed the nearest pillow and buried her face in it, biting back the urge to scream.

“This is hardly appropriate,” she said, though it was swallowed by the feather stuffed silk. “It’s so improper.”

“No, what’s ‘hardly appropriate’ is not taking a blessing that the goddess is handing you on a silver platter.”

“He does not like me,” Zelda firmly stated, lifting her head at last.

“How could he not? You’re beautiful, you’re smart, you’re the freaking princess! And he didn’t have to grab you by the hand but he did and in anyone else’s world, that’s a pretty good sign-“

“This is the last thing we should be focusing on!”

“You are ridiculous, Princess,” Impa said, ripping the pillow from her hands and tossing it aside. “We’ve got the Slate activated, we’ve got the runes working again, and you’ve got your pilot contenders all lined up. You’ve earned a minute to think about something other than the Calamity.”

As proper and perfect she was supposed to be, Zelda was still sixteen and the thought of a boy liking her, or a romantic partner in general, made her feel giddy and excited. And with one of her closest friends by her side, encouraging her like a little devil on her shoulder, how could she not indulge?

“His name is Link,” she said at last, giggling into her hands like she was sharing some sort of secret. “There’s much talk of him around the castle. Even father’s taken a liking to him. He’s the youngest to ever be a part of the military, and all of the chambermaids think he’s, ah, how did you put it? ‘Not bad on the eyes’?”

“So you do know him!”

“Hardly! I know of him, though I suppose it’ll be very hard to not know him after he’s saved my life.” Zelda rubbed her reddened cheeks to try and push the blood flow elsewhere. It was a little embarrassing to say that aloud—to admit that she had to be saved.

“Well, if you don’t take him then I will.” Impa crossed her arms, but Zelda barked out a laugh at the idea of the challenge.

“He’s all yours,” she replied simply. “I’m lucky my father's allowing me to contribute to your research. If he found out I had some Hylian soldier on my mind on top of that, I’d sooner rot to death than get out of his lecture.”

“Your father can back off for a few minutes,” Impa muttered, and Zelda couldn’t help but agree.

“And besides,” the princess continued with a wave of her hand. “As soon as the Calamity’s dealt with, he’ll probably marry me off so I can prepare to be queen.”

“Then why not have a little fun now while you can?”

“You are a horrible influence on me. There should be a law preventing that.” Zelda fell back onto her bed, glancing towards her friend when she joined.

“A law preventing friendship? Now you really sound like your dad. Excuse me for wanting to make sure the princess gets to be a normal girl every now and then.”

“Fine, but you go first. I know you’ve met plenty of people outside the castle. Anyone special~?” Zelda asked, nudging Impa with her elbow.

“Well, not anyone in Kakariko,” replied Impa with a sigh. “There’s Robbie, but Purah’s called dibs from day one. And there’s this boy from Deya, but he’s got the brains of a Bokoblin. The best contender is this girl from Lurelin Village. I saw her spear a fish and that was it.”

“Not a bad choice,” Zelda said with a nod. “Girls who know their way around weapons are.. well, I love Gerudo Town for more reasons than just my godmother being chief.”

“A Gerudo, nice. Has anyone caught your eye there?”

“No,” she answered with a shrug. “I haven’t focused on anything of the sort in months. But if I had to, I’d say the court poet isn’t so bad.”

Impa made a noise that was somewhere between a laugh and a cough. Zelda fought to keep a straight face.

“There’s no way you’re telling me you’d consider court poet Pikh, who can’t hold a simple conversation without bringing up his talents, over Link.”

“At least he can hold a conversation,” Zelda replied with a huff. “I’ve yet to hear Link utter a word!”

“Oh no, a man who doesn’t give his unwarranted opinion, how absolutely disgusting.”

Zelda picked up another pillow and tossed it into Impa’s face, fighting the urge to giggle. She was right, really. For the moment, the princess did feel like a regular girl and it was nice. How she wished she could do it more often.

“Perhaps I can convince father to let me stay with you in Kakariko for a weekend. He won’t be thrilled of course, but he trusts you all the same. It could do me some good to get away,” Zelda spoke, working to twist her hair out of her braids.

“If you can convince him, I’ll escort you myself,” said Impa in response.

Though it wouldn’t be necessary because when the well-needed trip finally came around, who was assigned to help them reach Kakariko safely but dearest, talk of the kingdom Link.

As soon as the words escaped from the mouth of her father, Zelda shared a look with Impa. And once they were out of earshot, her dear friend nudged the princess and she had to grab her arm to hide it, fighting back a laugh. Poor Link was left to follow them confused as the girls whispered amongst themselves.

It carried on like that for a while. He was appointed as her knight attendant, which meant he was always on her tail—something Impa found hysterical. But it was an inside joke for them, a little entertainment in between the heavy preparations. And she couldn’t tell if she appreciated or hated having Impa accompany them too, because her dear friend used every opportunity she could to tease her mercilessly.

Goddesses, what was a girl to do?

#zelink #hwaoc #hwaoc zelink #this is so late i'm sorry #impa and zelda both said bi rights #i'm the author so i get to choose the lgbt #should i do a part 2 to this #i might #idk

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xfandomwritingsx · 3 years

Text

His Girl – Steve Rogers – Part 2

-gif source-

Description: You’ve always been Bucky’s girl. But Bucky’s not here anymore…

Warnings/Labels: Angst. Daddy kink. Dirty talk. A bit of a Dom!Steve. A pinch of sexting. Masturbation. Smut. Minor choking kink. Unprotected Sex.

Approx. Word Count: 8,500

A/N: 10 months later here I am! Jesus, this wasn't supposed to take this long. Sorry guys!

Part One

---

You’ve retreated to your apartment for the week, finding comfort in your cozy little place as your last assignment ended. You light a few of your favorite scented candles, fill the bath with water that is probably a little too hot, load it with bubble bath, and pour yourself your favorite drink in the fanciest glass you have. It’s a much needed and overdue relaxation. The hot water does wonders for the tension in your shoulders and the atmosphere you set puts you at peace.

You’ve been soaking for nearly twenty minutes when your phone pings annoyingly on the floor next to you. You toy with the idea of just flipping it off, but you still haven’t been able to shake that habit drilled into you that forces you to, at the very least, check your phone in case it’s an emergency.

Emergency, it is not, but seeing Steve’s name pop up in the little text notification bubble makes you smile with excitement. Texting is still not his favorite form of communication, but he partakes with you and you can never leave him without a response. You swipe to read his message.

Chicago’s settled for now. It’s funny how much it feels like “old times” around here.

Steve left for Chicago a couple of days ago. With most the city population dissolved into ash, criminal activity skyrocketed and two groups had been going the direction of starting war with each other. It was extremely reminiscent of the days of mobsters and mafia running cities which is what you assume he’s referring to. You type out a quick, light-hearted reply.

Think Al Capone would have survived the snap?

You let your arm hang over the edge of the tub, keeping your phone in your hand in anticipation of his next text. You have your drink in your other hand and take a sip from it. When your phone vibrates, you put the glass down onto the little floating drink holder bobbing in your lap.

Who knows. How’s your night going?

You type a couple of replies, deleting them all as they all seem too wordy, too much. He didn’t need to know your dinner was underwhelming or that the cheap dryer hadn’t dried your pajamas all the way. As you try again, you silently thank the creator of the PopSocket for all but completely removing your fear of dropping your phone in the tub.

Could be better. Finally relaxing now.

You don’t even close out of the text window or put your phone to sleep. You simply watch as the ellipses appear on your screen almost instantly as he types back to you.

What are you doing?

You chew on your lower lip, debating if you really want to act on the idea that runs through your head. You take a larger gulp of your drink before throwing away your hesitation. You sweep your arm over the surface of the water to gather all of the remaining bubbles to your chest in order to cover your breasts for the picture you snap a moment later.

Your damp hair is tied up at the back of your head in a mess of a bun, cheeks and collar pink from the heat, and no trace of makeup on your skin. You’ve also been soaking long enough that the bubbles have turned mostly to a thin foam on the surface of the water, barely concealing your body beneath it. The candle flames give a dark, suggestive aura to the photo and you can’t help but be pleased with how it turned out as you hit send with a brief caption.

What about you?

His reply is slower this time, the lack of ellipses making you wonder if he didn’t appreciate the photo as you hoped. When your phone turns black, changing into rest mode due to lack of activity, your heart starts beating a little faster and you start to worry it was a mistake. You have never exchanged pictures before, let alone one of you stark naked in a bath. It was pretty bold and despite what he’s implied about his feelings for you, maybe he didn’t like it.

When your phone lights up again, it notifies you that Steve has sent you a picture in return. You’re not really sure what you had expected, but this is not it. Before you can even convince yourself it’s going to be something completely innocent and bland, you’re already opening the message.

Steve is laying down on what is obviously a bed in a fairly fancy hotel room. One of the “perks” of The Snap; fancy things aren’t expensive anymore. He’s leaning partially on the headboard, propped up on big, fluffy white pillows. He’s got the smallest little smirk on his lips, his eyes on the camera lens and not the screen. One arm is thrown behind his head lazily, the other clearly raising his phone up as high as he can. And due to that little detail, you’re able to see clearly that he is not wearing a shirt. It’s accompanied by a short message.

Missing home… Missing you.

You breathe deeply and sink a little further into the water. You’ve seen Steve shirtless on a number of occasions, even touched his super-soldier-given perfect skin patching him up. This is different though. This is quiet and personal, intimate. This is a picture he snapped just for you to see and the angle he took it at, the effort put into making sure his phone was that high, it wasn’t by accident that his chest is on display.

You’re stuck for words, nothing coming to your blank mind, completely enthralled by his photo. You stare so long that your screen goes black again and you have to unlock your phone once more.

Wish I could have come with you.

After hitting send, you keep staring at that picture while wondering, hoping even, that he’s just as entranced by yours as you are his. You run your wet hand along your neck, the water still not cool enough to quench your flaming skin. You trail it down to your breastbone, palm resting at the very top of your breast.

You should have. Only had rooms with one bed available though. Consolidation and such.

You let your hand slide down and cup around your breast in full, giving it a small lift and squeeze. You clench your thighs together, trying to ease the steadily building excitement between them and type your reply.

Well now I really feel like I’m missing out.

Is he in sweatpants, you wonder. Shorts? Underwear? Nothing? That building desire is clearly not going anywhere. You finish the last of your drink in a hurry.

Bed’s small. Might have ended up on top of each other.

Well, hell. The man is going to drive you insane. Or cause you to spontaneously combust. The water doesn’t feel quite as warm as it did a few minutes ago. Your squeeze your legs together again and shift, jostling the water a little as you sink to a more comfortable position, hand resting on your lower stomach, daring and itching to sink down.

Good thing I like you on top of me.

God, what was it about texting that made you so bold? You try not to think about how mortified you’ll be tomorrow if this ends disastrously. His reply is just a little slower and you wonder if he’s trying to find a graceful way to abandon the conversation. Or maybe, just maybe, he’s readjusting himself, removing his pants or simply pushing them down far enough to get his dick out.

Oh yeah? Anything else in particular you like?

He’s giving you an out, letting you lead how far this conversation is going to go. You’re too far gone to stop though. Your legs open practically on their own and your hand glides through the water to cup your sex. The pressure of your palm on your clit and the image of Steve sprawled out on a hotel bed causing a small moan. It takes you a moment to gather yourself enough to respond.

I like when you pin me down, hands over head, and grind into me.

Your middle finger teases your entrance, easily remembering how it feels to have his large hands wrapped around your wrists, his hips on yours. So many times you wanted to just wrap your legs around him, lock your ankles at the lowest part of his back and keep him there.

Want to know what I like?

Your body is on edge, heart pounding at your chest. You can only manage to type out a single word.

Yes.

Your eyes drift shut, letting your finger run up and down your lips through the water. Your mind is filled with images of Steve, so many you can barely keep them straight. You want so badly to see him, to know if he’s as worked up as you are. You’re so distracted that you don’t notice the minute tick by, or that he’s typing back the whole time.

I like when you follow orders and when you try to be subtle when you stare. I like thinking about you on your knees. I like the way your whole body shuddered when I suggested you call me Daddy. I like that I can practically hear you moan my name when I pin you to a wall. I also like when you cook breakfast in those little blue shorts of yours. Think you could manage that for me the morning after? That’s assuming my babygirl can still move after a night with me.

Your mind is a melted mess as you read it. Your entire body feels like a tight coil with lust and your hips grind up into your palm as you slip your middle finger inside of you. You moan louder this time, images of the two of you bombarding your mind. Your thumb numbly types out a pleading text you pray isn’t pathetic in comparison.

Send me another picture. Please.

Waiting for his reply isn’t difficult. It comes quickly, but even if it didn’t, his previous text is enough to keep you running and satisfied for the whole night. Perhaps even longer.

Since you asked so nicely.

The words come through a few seconds before the picture. The room he’s in is dimly lit, but the photo itself is still clear enough for you to see what he’s showing you. He’d brought the camera up to his chest, taking a picture looking down his body. The thin, white hotel bedsheet is laid loosely on top of him, the edge of it lightly tickling his waist. The bulge tenting it up between his legs is obvious, but just in case it wasn’t, his hand is there; thumb pressing into the base of his cock, large hand at the juncture of his thigh, the rest of his fingers likely cradling his balls out of view.

You want so badly to peel that sheet away from him and see what’s underneath. You tap your thumb on the screen occasionally just to make sure your phone doesn’t turn black and take that image from your eyes. Your body is thrumming, your skin practically vibrating on you as your finger slides in and out of you, indulging in some of pleasure you’ve been trying to deny yourself for years.

Another text comes through from him.

Was that too far?

You realize now that you’ve failed to respond for a few minutes. He just sent you what you’re qualifying as a dick pic and he’d been met with silence. Instead of being worried you weren’t impressed by it, that old, gentlemanly Captain America peaks out and is worried he’d taken your little game too far. The four little words crack through the lust and give your heart the slightest pang. You type back quickly, eager to ease his concerns.

No! You’re good. I was just… admiring the view.

Good. I was worried maybe you had second thoughts.

The pleasure in you threatens to turn. When were you not having second thoughts about it all? But no! Not tonight. You refuse to let it sour everything. It’s been years. Years. You deserve some amount of pleasure, of release.

My only thoughts right now are about what’s under that sheet.

His response is quick.

Some things are better seen in person.

Your breath catches and your finger starts to move a little faster inside of you.

Is that an offer?

Absolutely.

You know he believes there’s a good chance this conversation will never see the light of day, that it will be some dirty little secret kept hidden away. You don’t want that though. The very idea of jumping into his arms and kissing him when you see him next has you squirming.

What are you going to do when I actually take you up on that offer?

You push the heel of your palm into your clit a little harder and grind your hips. You’ve moved your hand and phone outside the tub, no longer trusting yourself not to fumble it.

Maybe one day you’ll find out.

You moan, hoping with everything you have that Steve has his dick in his hand and is as much of a mess as you are.

Get your ass back home Cap.

You can almost hear his chuckle in your ear.

So needy babygirl.

You can feel your pleasure building, everything in you tense and wound up. You withdraw your finger so that you can make circles on your clit and try to bring yourself over the edge. Your thumb shakes as you type out a short response.

Need you.

Say the word and you have me.

He follows up almost instantly with another text.

In person though. Not now, not like this. Call me old school.

You ease the pressure off your clit enough for you to focus on typing on a coherent reply to him.

Then you might want to tell me goodnight or I’m going to take this too far.

You don’t actually want him to do it. You want to take it too far, to take that leap of faith and get a taste of what you’ve been craving, but you know you can’t right now. He doesn’t want some quick, technological affair that can be literally erased at any point and quite frankly, neither do you.

Goodnight, babygirl. Be home soon.

I can’t wait. Goodnight, Steve.

And with that, you drop your phone onto the bathroom tile and sink your hand into the water, fully succumbing to your own pleasure.

When the sunlight streams in the next morning, you’re expecting the guilt to come with it. It always does after a night thinking about Steve. It’s a crushing weight that sits right in your stomach and pulls down on your throat. It’s familiar by now, but no less unsettling.

You lie in bed, waiting for it to hit you, but the only thing you feel is a slight fear. You feel a tensing and a pressure, afraid that when you look at your phone, there will be a text from Steve that retracts everything. Sorry about last night. or We shouldn’t have said those things. Let’s forget it happened. Something like that.

The fear is an unwelcome intruder amongst your feelings. Self-hate and guilt you can handle, have handled for a long time, but fear is not something you want to deal with. So, you bite the bullet and roll over to snatch your phone off the night stand.

One unread text from Steve Rogers sent thirteen minutes ago.

You open your phone before you can convince yourself not to, before the fear sinks teeth into you and forces you to leave his message unread all day long.

Morning beautiful. Had a complication this morning and I am headed to a place with little cell service. I’ll also be home a little later than planned. Only a day or so I hope.

The fear lifts off of you and is replaced with a light, floaty feeling. While you’re disappointed that he won’t be coming back on time, the relief you have is much stronger. Maybe, just maybe this won’t end in disaster after all.

Steve ends up being home a week later than originally planned and you haven’t talked to him much during that time. When you did speak, it was professionally about his mission or another issue. Cell service around the county is much spottier than it was before The Snap which can make communication in certain areas more difficult.

You’re working out at The Haven when he returns. You’ve worked up a slight sweat and are pummeling a punching bag when he finds you. You don’t notice him at first since the doorway is behind you and he takes the moment to silently watch you.

“You shouldn’t let your form get sloppy,” he calls once you finish a sequence. The sound of his voice brings a smile to your face, but his words cause you to huff and roll your eyes before turning around.

“It’s just practice,” you chide, wiping your wrist over your brow. He’s leaning against the doorway casually, a duffel bag at his feet. He hadn’t even stopped at home first.

“Practice for the real thing. You lose it in practice, you’ll lose it in a fight.” You give him a sarcastic look to display your disbelief at his critique. It doesn’t faze him. “Fix your stance next time.”

“Yes, sir,” you mock as you begin to unwrap your hands and try to bite back your smile. It’s impossible though once his stoic mentor face breaks and his own smile appears on his lips. “How was your trip?” you ask, leaning down a bit to grab your water bottle. He sighs and considers his answer briefly.

“Long,” he says. “Long and annoying, but successful.” There’s a moment where your eyes connect with his and the air in the room gets heavy. “Glad to be home.” There’s a meaning beneath his words that reads loud and clear, but you force yourself to swallow it down. If you didn’t, you may just end up leaping into his arms right here in the gym.

“Glad to have you home, Cap.” You say it as jovially, as platonically as you can muster, which isn’t much. There’s still a little look in his eye, a deepness in the air, and you’ll be damned if you can’t break your gaze with him. You bring the bottle up and gulp down water, the tilt of the bottle forcing a disconnect in your eye contact.

“Nat has a conference call in twenty,” he says, voice slipping back into work mode. “Are you going?” You finish the rest of the water and breathe deeply.

“I probably should.” He reads the translation easily; you hadn’t intended on going.

“I’ve got to give a status report on my trip.” Translation; he has to go. “I’ll save you a seat.” You give him a short nod as he grabs his duffle bag and moves to exit. It’s not like you could ever say no to him anyways.

True to his word and unsurprising to you, Steve had in fact kept the seat next to him open. The only people in physically in the room are Steve, Natasha, Rhodey, and yourself so it could be simple coincidence that the chair is open, but you suspect it was more strategic than that. In your usual fashion, you’ve arrived just moments before the holographic conference call opens over the table, spilling a flickering blue light from overhead. Light particles float around like miniscule puzzle pieces before coming together to form the shapes of your friends, recreating them standing onto the large table.

You slip into your seat as Natasha greets everyone and Steve gives you a small smile that you return easily despite the way your heart is starting to hammer in your chest. It’s an odd feeling trying to be the same kind of friendly you’ve always been with him when you’ve both admitted attraction, when you’ve both exchanged racy photos. You scold yourself silently as your mind drifts back to the photo of him which you’d saved onto your phone. Now is not the time to let those thoughts wander freely.

Rocket calls your name and your attention snaps to the raccoon.

“We can’t see you. Scoot in next to Steve more.” There’s a humor in his voice that makes you fully believe he can see you just fine, but no one corrects him and they all wait for you. Natasha is biting the inside of her cheek and purposefully looking down at papers she is most certainly not reading. With a heavy breath, you scoot your chair closer to Steve’s side. “Little bit more,” Rocket teases and again, no one swoops in to say you’re in view yet. You bite your tongue and scoot ever closer, the armrests of the chairs nearly touching. “Just a little more.”

“If I move anymore, I’ll be in his damn lap,” you snap at him, annoyed by this play. He smiles and shrugs and is about to open his mouth when Natasha finally cuts in and starts the meeting. If that raccoon ever comes to Earth, you’re going to strangle him and ruin every betting pool he’s ever run.

Steve is nothing but professional as he gives his report. You hear the business in his voice, but fail to retain what he’s actually saying, all of your attention focused on the way his lips move and the way his tongue occasionally licks them. It’s not obvious, right? It’s common for people to watch someone’s mouth when they speak.

What might be more obvious is when your eyes finally drift from his mouth and travel down his neck. The muscle and tendons tighten just under the thin skin of his throat as he talks, especially when he’s annoyed with whatever he’s talking about. Your eyes keep slipping down. Down to the biceps left mostly uncovered by his short sleeve shirt. Down the veins in his forearms. Down to his hips and his thighs, to the seam of his jeans between his legs that you can only see because of your close proximity.

He’s stopped talking you realize. You’re not sure exactly when he did that, but you quickly snap your eyes back up to his face. You hope to seem casual about it and perhaps no one would have noticed your little daze you slipped into. The subtle smirk on Steve’s face makes it clear he’s caught you though.

You duck your chin and clear your throat as if that’s going to stop the embarrassed heat from spreading up your neck to your face. You refocus your attention on your holographic teammates, try to murder Rocket with your eyes, but you can feel Steve continuing to watch you. It’s nearly impossible to hear what the team is bickering about with the heat in your face spreading up to your ears and your mind entirely unable to keep a straight train of thought.

You cast your glance his way, knowing you won’t be able to concentrate until you get him to stop staring. The smirk remains on his lips and his eyes lock with yours, full of amusement and intrigue and something a little darker, a little heavier behind his irises. A nervous and unconscious lick of your lips guides his eyes down and his mouth parts slightly.

Then he’s turning his head to look at your teammates and speak to them as though he’s been fully involved in whatever conversation they’ve been having. The man could multitask when he wanted to. You’ll give him that.

“If they’re having trouble with their crops,” he says, all too cheerfully. “I know someone who can help.” He reaches over the very short distance between you and him to pat your thigh. “Our resident gardener here can probably lend a few tips.” It takes every ounce of you not to choke on your tongue and to respond in an acceptable fashion.

“Yeah,” you say with minimal stumbling and another clearing of your throat. “Give them my contact info if they don’t have it.” You’re impressed with how steady you manage to make it sound and just hope they hadn’t been talking about someone you knew very well because if they were, your response would sound silly. Thankfully, there’s no odd looks or questions and the conversation continues on without you. Which is very good. Because your heart is starting to catch in your ribcage as you notice that Steve hasn’t removed his hand from your thigh.

He’s not doing anything, just resting his hand there, fingers close to your knee, thumb grazing the outside of your leg. His hand is large and you can feel the warmth of his palm sink through the fabric of your leggings. You should have changed after your workout. Jeans wouldn’t have allowed him to feel so close to your skin.

He’s not looking at you anymore, his eyes following the conversation professionally and staying a silent participant in the meeting. You try to do the same, but your eyes never seem to focus on anyone, instead staring off into blank space. If anyone notices, they don’t say anything and even if they had, you’re pretty sure you wouldn’t hear them through the blood rushing in your ears.

Steve moves his hand and years of stealth training falls out the window as you flinch at the movement. Not only that, but you flinch towards the motion, going so far as to reach your hand out to his and while that gesture could be construed as something negative, your body had zero intentions of pushing him away, wanting rather to pull him closer. Thankfully, you manage to stop yourself from actually getting to him.

His hand turns and he brushes his knuckles along the outside of your thigh, slowly gliding up and then back down. The shiver that shoots up your spine doesn’t quench the heat still steadily building up from your core. His touch is gentle and tentative, waiting of any sign of possible rejection from you. None comes of course. You’re so far past rejecting him. In fact, you’re not entirely sure you wouldn’t let him feel you up right here mid-conference.

And just like that, you’re imagining his knuckles sliding all the way up your thigh to the juncture of your hip. He’d flatten his palm against the very top of your thigh again and twist his hand down so his fingers can gently tease you through your leggings.

Biting your lip, you push those thoughts from your mind. His knuckles are still slowly stroking your thigh. You’ve stopped trying to focus on the meeting and sink a little more fully into your chair. Taking a deep breath, you take his hand in yours, taking a little bit of pride in the way he suddenly stills in surprise. It lasts for only a moment before his fingers wrap around yours and you’re left holding each other’s hands on your thigh.

“Anyone else have anything else they want to bring up?” Natasha’s voice breaks through to you and pulls Steve’s attention.

“I think we’re all good,” he says confidently, pretty much ending any conversation from continuing. There’s a gentle squeeze on your hand and it’s so soft that your breath gets caught in your chest. The way he slips from making dirty smirks to delicate touch amazes you.

Before you know it, the holograms have disintegrated and Natasha is all but escorting Rhodey out of the room, leaving you alone with Steve, still holding your hand. He leans back into his chair, fully relaxing and smiles at you.

“I still owe you ice cream,” he says, giving your hand another small squeeze.

“That… is true.” The awkwardness of your reply makes you both let out breathy laughs. You’d never been awkward before and in recognizing it, it breaks some of the strange tension in your body. This is still Steve. Nerves and excitement were bound to happen, but awkwardness just feels silly. “You offering to make it up to me?” That sounded better.

“I don’t have any plans tonight.” He says it as an offer and instantly your mind starts going over your apartment. Is your laundry done? How clean is it? Do you have food in the fridge? Beer? When did you shave your legs last? He can see the questions rolling around in your head, watches the wheels turn behind your eyes. “I’m actually pretty free all week,” he amends, giving you an out.

“Tonight would be great.” You think maybe you say it too quickly, but he just smiles at you warmly. He stands, taking your hand up with him for a moment. Then he bends and brings your hand to his lips and kiss your knuckles softly.

“I’ll see you tonight.” There’s a flutter in your stomach and you hold your breath for longer than you realize, only letting it out after your hand has fallen from his and he’s sending you a wink over his shoulder before he walks out of the door.

You spend the rest of your day cleaning your apartment. It’s not a disaster and it’s not like Steve hasn’t seen it a mess before, but tonight is different. You can feel it in everything from the way your hands shake to how you push the cheap beer to the back of the fridge. You also pull a dress from the back of your closet and hold it against yourself for far too long before deciding that would just be too much. You don’t have to try so hard, not with Steve.

You’ve managed to calm your nerves enough that by the time he knocks on the door, your hands aren’t shaking. When you swing the door open, he holds up a plastic grocery bag with at least five pints of ice cream inside and flashes you a smile. It’s such a genuine, unapologetically bright smile that it makes you feel like you had been missing it somehow. The corners of your mouth pull back in a reflective smile that threatens to make your cheeks hurt.

“Think this will be enough?” he jokes, motioning to the bag.

“I don’t know,” you tease back, tilting your head to examine it. “I mean, I’m clearly going to eat all of that myself so what are you going to eat?” You can tell by the way he hesitates and bites the inside of his cheek that he’s pushing down a dirty response. “Come on in,” you say, stepping aside and saving him from the internal debate of voicing his thoughts.

You had been concerned all day about how the evening would go. Were you supposed to just jump right into his arms when he walked in? Did he want to talk about this first? Would anything even actually happen tonight? More than anything, you expected awkwardness; small laughs and bites of your lip and both of you trying not to make eye contact.

And yet... that awkwardness never comes. As soon as Steve is in your door, things feel fairly normal between you two. If anything, there’s just an added energy to the air, a weight to your flirtations.

As you both unload the bag onto your kitchen table, Steve acts as though he’s forgotten your favorite flavor of ice cream. He does it every year and tonight, he has it behind his back. You can’t see it, but the way his arm is twisted behind him and how he's slowly putting himself closer to the kitchen wall, you can tell that’s where it is when you notice it’s not on the table and the bag is empty.

“You know... It was on the top shelf and I meant to get an employee to help me, but by the time I got finished, I completely forgot.” He spins the ridiculous story terribly, unable to stop the amused smile that breaks out on his face. You advance on him, nodding along and pursing your face. “Real sorry about that.” He’s got his back as close to the wall as he can with the pint of ice cream behind him and it only takes a moment for you to get close.

“Mmhmm,” you hum. “Then what’s behind your back?”

“Oh that?” he feigns innocently. “Nothing you’d be interested in, I’m sure.”

You hum again and find yourself nearly pressed against his front, mere inches between your chests. Slowly, you reach around him with one hand. His body larger and arms longer than you, force you to lean in to reach. Pressing against him, you almost feel his breath hitch in his chest. Your eyes flicker away from his and you can feel the chill of the ice cream as your fingers get close.

You don’t see his eyes darken and when he grabs your wrist, shifting the pint to one hand and using the other to pull yours away, it startles you. It gives him enough leverage to spin you around and push you to the wall, lifting your hand above your head and pinning your wrist there. You gasp softly and look up at him with parted lips. Steve smiles down at you and leans in stopping just short of pressing himself into you.

And then in a moment, he’s gone, leaving you with your hand still over your head while your mind catches up. He puts the pint down with the rest and goes to get spoons from your drawer. Your body tingling and craving more, you can tell tonight will be interesting.

It became clear pretty quickly that there would be no jumping right into each other’s arms and there would be no talking about it. Instead, you shot each other charged looks and flirtatious innuendos and got physically into each other’s space as much as possible. It left you wanting more, wishing desperately, without a shadow of guilt, that Steve would just throw you up against any surface he could find. And then you realized he wasn’t going to. Even this hardened, dirty New Steve was a gentleman and he was very clearly waiting for you to make the first move.

You’re sitting at the kitchen table when you finally crack. The table is small and round. The chairs aren’t directly across from each other, but rather next to each other and you’ve each turned them to face one another, the table more on your sides than in front of you now. It makes it easy for Steve to lean forward towards you.

“You’re a mess,” he says, reaching to swipe his thumb along the corner of your mouth and scoop away some of the melted ice cream on your face. You react before you can even think about it.

You turn your face and capture his thumb between your lips. You both pause, the gesture unexpected. The weight of his thumb resting on your tongue spurs something inside of you and as you watch Steve’s eyes glaze over, turning from surprise to lust, you run your tongue over him and suck lightly. Steve leans his body in and his fingers cradle your jaw, encouraging you.

He watches you closely, coming to the edge of his seat and tilting your jaw upwards just a little bit. It’s a firm gesture, one that shows you that even though he’s letting you lead, he’s still in charge and damn if that doesn’t make you suck a little harder on his thumb to please him. You squeeze your knees together as he pushes his thumb further into your mouth. The sweetness of the ice cream is well gone, replaced by the slight salt of his skin and you only wish there was more to take from him.

He drags his thumb back out, letting it drag your lower lip down as you release it. Your breath is heavy and you can feel a wetness between your legs already starting. You want to glance down between Steve’s legs, to see if he’s got a similar problem, but he holds your eyes so firmly you have no choice but to focus on his face.

“That was a good girl,” he praises. He makes you want to just drop onto your knees right there, but he’s coming forward instead. Pushing off his chair and slipping that hand back along your jaw to your neck, he pulls you up with him until you’re standing in front of him. Your hands come to his waist, just to have something to steady yourself with. He grabs the base of your skull and tilts your head up to look at him. “You have to say it,” he tells you, voice a lot softer than his eyes. His other hand brushes through your hair. “You have to tell me you want it.” You swallow thickly before whispering back to him.

“I want you, Steve.”

His mouth crashes down to yours. There’s no softness or hesitancy. The kiss is rough, rushed, and hot. Steve pulls you flush against him, one hand still holding the back of your neck and the other running down your back. Now having your permission, he takes what he wants. He opens your mouth under his and pushes his tongue inside. There’s no fight for dominance. You’re entirely compliant and willing under him. He turns you sharply, pulling his mouth from yours for a moment and bending you back so that he can sweep the table clean. Pints of ice cream, spoons, your mail, everything clatters to the floor.

“A mess for you to bend over and clear later,” he tells you hoarsely. Any thought of being irritated at the melted ice cream on your floor vanishes. He moves his hands to your waist, but doesn’t lift you up like you expect. Instead, his fingers dip into the waistband of both your pants and underwear. “We’ve moved slowly for too long,” he whispers, his lips brushing against yours. “Don’t you agree?”

“Yes,” you breathe out. No sooner than he heard the word did he drop away from you, down to his knees, and drag your clothes down to your ankles. You let out a low moan, your weight shifting back and leaning into your table. “Steve...”

He wastes no time. Asks no more questions. He slips off your shoes quickly and once he’s rid you of your pants entirely, he grabs behind one of your knees and hikes your leg up and open, giving him full access to your hot, wet pussy. He doesn’t even give you the chance to beg him. He comes forward and licks only a single stripe up your lips before delving his tongue deeper.

Your body tries to gasp and moan at the same time and instead a strangled sound barely rises from your throat. Your body tenses and you throw one hand into his hair, pulling him closer, wanting more. He places your leg over his shoulder and tilts his chin up to take your clit between his lips and suck. Somewhere in the back recesses of your mind, you wonder where in the world Captain America learned to eat pussy like this, but then his tongue is working again and your mind blanks.

“Fuck,” you whisper harshly, followed by a moan. The hand not tangled in his hair grips the edge of the table, trying to keep your balance. He gives another hard suck on your clit and pulls away just slightly.

“You taste so good, babygirl.” He leans forward and licks at you one last time. “But I’m an impatient man.” He carefully removes your leg from your shoulder, a hand on your hip to make sure you get both feet on the ground and balanced before he stands back up. He starts unbuckling his belt and your dry mouth waters. You push off the table, start to sink to your knees when he stops you, hand on your chin, and keeps you standing. “So eager,” he coos, still using his other hand to undo his pants. “I like that.” He brings your mouth to his and kisses you deeply, letting you taste your own juices on his tongue. “But if you put that pretty mouth anywhere near my dick, I’m going to cum,” he admits harshly. The brashness in his voice sends electricity down your spine. The very idea of Steve’s cock in your mouth, cumming down your throat with his hands in your hair makes you quiver. You reach out, fingertips tickling at the open waistband of his pants.

“Please?” you ask, as sweet as your voice will manage. You swallow and steel yourself to be brave. You’re already naked from the waist down. Steve’s face is glistening with your juices. Now isn’t the time to be shy. “Please, daddy?” The hand at your jaw slips down around your neck ever so gently as he chuckles.

“Don’t tempt me,” he warns, unable to resist pressing another kiss to your mouth. “I'll use that pretty throat another day,” he promises, giving just a whisper of a squeeze around the column of your neck before removing his hand and continuing to free himself from his pants. “Turn around,” he tells you. “Bend over the table.” You listen to his commands without question.

Before, you’d always thought Steve would be vanilla; straight up missionary in bed with the lights off kind of a guy. After The Snap, after he hardened up and caught your attention, after he admitted to his very own Daddy kink, you knew he had a little spice in him, but you still hadn’t expected this. You get lost in his dominance. Turn into a wet, writing mess at his touch. God, you wish you hadn’t waited so long for this.

“Last chance to run, babygirl,” he says, bringing you back from your thoughts. You wish you could see his cock, could feel it, but the excitement of not knowing as he rubbed the budging tip against your wet slip, made you crave it all the more. You look back over your shoulder at him and wait for his eyes to meet yours.

“Steve... Fuck me.” It’s less of a plea and more of a demand of your own. He smirks down at you and presses one hand into your lower back, pushing your belly to the table. When he slides in, you drop your face down and moan. He goes slow, his entire length slowly pushing inside of you, stretching you, filling you. “Fuck,” you moan into the table. Steve represses a groan as he pulls out just a little and then pushes back in, fitting his entire cock in you.

There’s only a brief moment of stillness where you both revel in the feeling. Then Steve is moving, slowly pulling out then pushing forward. His pace increases, his thrusts get harder. Soon, you’re a panting, moaning mess on your kitchen table as Steve glides one hand up your back and tangles in your hair.

“You feel so good,” he groans out, voice barely above a whisper as though it’s hard for him to speak at all. “Touch yourself,” he says. “Touch yourself for me.” You lift off the table just enough to sneak your hand beneath you and play with your clit. You can feel his cock thrusting so close to your hand and you can’t help but reach just a little further and let your fingers touch it. Steve shudders and his thrusts stutter for just a moment before he gets it together. “Such a good girl,” he praises.

“Wanted this for so long,” you mumble, cheek pressed to the table and eyes closed, grinding your palm into your clit while you try to circle your fingers around his thick cock.

“Ever since Tony’s last Christmas party,” he admits. “That fucking blue dress.” He groans, recalling how you looked. “Wanted to bend you over the table right there in the middle of room.” He slows his thrusts, getting too close to his end with your fingers teasing him and your tight pussy wrapped around him. It gives you enough clarity in your head to think back. Christmas party?

“That was...” you breathe out loud. Before The Snap. Steve leans himself over your back, shallowing his thrusts and pulling the hair from your neck so he can kiss and lick at your skin.

“Yeah,” he groans, bringing his lips up to your ear. “Not like I could tell anyone I wanted to fuck my best friend’s girl.” Your breath hitches and your hand stills for a moment, but the low, long moan that escapes you involuntarily only encourages him.

He’d wanted you for that long? Years. While Bucky was still alive. While you hadn’t even given Steve a second look. How many nights did he spend locked away in his room thinking about you? Had he touched himself wishing it was you? How hard did he get imagining being inside of you just like he is right now?

“Steve,” you moan, reaching back with your other hand to feel for his hip, to hold onto him. Suddenly, you crave to give him everything. He’d waited so many years for you. You want to give him everything he wanted. You circle your fingers around him again. “I want you to cum in me.” His motions stop and he breathes heavily near your ear.

“Are you sure?” he asks, old fashioned concern in his voice. You hadn’t exactly discussed birth control or expectations or wants, but the way his cock twitches inside of you says everything. You take your hand off his hip and push up on the table enough to twist your head to kiss him.

“Please, daddy,” you try the line again. His hand snakes around to your front, cradling the very bottom of your neck by your collarbone and pulls you up, arching your back and taking some of his weight off of you. “Fill me up,” you beg.

“That what you want?” The concern in his voice is replaced with confidence as he starts moving again. “You want me to cum inside of you?” You barely manage to nod as he starts thrusting harder. You dig your palm into your clit, chasing your own release as much as his. “That’s right, babygirl.” You’re moaning hard now as he fucks you and you can feel his dick swell against your walls. “Oh, fuck,” his hips sputter again and with one more grind of your palm, you feel your own orgasm wash over you.

“Fill me,” you moan through the waves, clenching tight around his dick. “Make me yours.” Steve’s hand tightens around your neck briefly as he cums, pulling your body against him as he buries himself as deep as he can and spills inside of you. A mess of moans and sharp gasps, shuddering bodies and slickness, you both start to come down from your high, hands falling away from each other and breath shaky.

Steve recovers first, kissing gently at your neck before helping to lower you to the table. Your muscles feel wobbly and skin hot, sweaty. You’re spent and used and sticky and utterly satisfied. When Steve slowly pulls out of you, you feel fluid drip down your thighs and you clench down as if you can keep him inside of you.

“I can...” He pauses, still catching his breath. “Help you with the mess,” he says, motioning to the floor. You start to straighten yourself out, fighting your own body as your vision goes a little fuzzy, your blood still not back up to your head where it should be. You let out an airy laugh at his sudden concern to be gentlemanly again.

“Should probably clean ourselves first,” you joke lightly. He laughs and dips his head.

“Yeah, I guess so.” You worry he’s going to get awkward now, that the spark will vanish as quick as it lit the fire. Then he smiles when he looks at you and pulls you in for a kiss softer than any other he’d given you. It’s slow and gentle, melting any worry away from you. “Ladies first.”

After you’ve both washed yourselves up and made quick work of the melted ice cream, you move to the couch. You sit across from each other, each of sitting back against an armrest, feet and legs intertwined in the middle. Steve is staring at you softly and it causes a blush to rise up on your neck.

“So...” you sigh. “The Christmas party?” He bites his lower lip and grimaces a little bit.

“Yeah. I didn’t actually intend on ever telling you that,” he admits sheepishly and for a moment you see the Old Steve show up. It’s endearing and cute and makes you smile all the more.

“I honestly had no clue,” you tell him through a small laugh.

“I got pretty good at hiding the blushing after a while,” he says. “And you were happy. I wasn’t going to mess that up for either of you.” The tone humbles and you crawl over to seat yourself between his legs, back to his chest, and wrap his arms around yourself.

“So, tell me,” you say coyly. “Did I live up to the years of dirty fantasies?” He chuckles and puts his face into your neck.

“Better than I could have ever imagined,” he mumbles into your skin. “And what about you?” he asks, tightening his grip around you and settling you into his arms.

“Never even dreamed the good ol’ Captain America had such an intense side,” you tell him, humming and dropping your head to his shoulder contently.

“I took it easy on you,” he teases, pressing a kiss to your pulse.

You giggle and push back on his chest with your back as a playful shove. He chuckles again and eases up, settling into just holding onto you and enjoying the moment.

The happiness you feel is long overdue. It feels good. It finally feels right. You turn and give Steve a slow, lazy kiss and smile at him, unable to stop yourself. Your thoughts float back to your final words before his orgasm. Make me yours. It’s what set him off; the idea of you being fully and completely his.

What he didn’t realize is that you’d been his girl for a long while now. This just made it official.

~~~

A/N #2: So... keeping in mind it took me ten fucking months to write a part two... what would you all think about a sequel that is a "choose your own ending" in which you get to be conflicted over and ultimately choose if you stay with Steve or get back with Bucky after The Blip? Anyone interested?

Tumblr has been a bitch getting my work out to people so I ask that you like, comment, and reblog. Of course, if you’re really feeling generous, buy me a coffee! https://ko-fi.com/writerashley

TAG LIST

If you want to be added to any tag lists, shoot me an ask!

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@inukako / @misshale21

#steve rogers imagine #Steve Rogers #avengers imagine #avengers

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nothisis-ridiculous · 3 years

Text

Take Me Home Now: Chapter Four

Chapter Four: But You See, it's Not Me

Set after the events of ME3.

A rewrite. Ao3.

FemShepxKaidan

"Get down! Get down! Get down!" Jane screamed as she charged across the field.

The blast rippled through the air, a torrent of flame following imperceptibly behind it, and with that sudden friction came the force of the explosion. Rubble, stones, dust, and ash flung across the square seconds after the detonation. Terse silence, then relief.

"Recruit!" the Lieutenant called, emerging from behind the barrier, "holy hell, Recruit?"

He scanned the intersection, frowning as the haze of ash obscured his vision. But it wasn't long before coughing guided him forward to his curled-up Recruit. One now covered in ash and with a few extra gashes but seemingly no worse for the wear. Those bright blue eyes looking more out of place against the black and grey backdrop of soot and crimson.

"I think we played that one a little close," he wavered on the humorous tone. Fighting their own wasn't comfortable for most soldiers, even if they had made it abundantly clear they were the enemy.

Jane grinned up at him, "I usually am not the charge setter. I just like the boom."

Fair enough. Perhaps he should have never questioned her mettle, the woman chomped on the bit to destroy this outpost the second she saw the gem-like logo tagged on the side of the building. Roy knew she had killed other humans since the Reapers were defeated, but seeing her ease at doing so in person was another matter. Most of his men, and himself, balked at the idea after weeks of working together against the Reaper threat. Now it was over -it felt sacrilegious to kill another member of his race... it was the first time he had killed another man. But here Jane was, taking it in stride, almost seeming to take it with gayety he couldn't fathom.

"That must be the human with the quad," for a hulking creature, the Krogan leader could be quite mellow at times, for what was expected out of him.

Strangely enough, Jane didn't share that same sentiment. She cowed in her own way, backing from the open hand that Wrex offered to her. Wrex instead lifted her by the arm, pulling the female in for closer inspection. The red eyes roved over her face and features, looking for something that he ultimately decided was not there. The Krogan set her down with a gentle jostle.

"Heh, I must still have my charm."

His recruit fought a wistful smile.

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

The cold night air prickled her skin, raising the fine hairs across her forearm. Her gaze followed it down and to the ground in the space between her crossed legs. It felt less immense looking at this space rather than up at the terrible presence that loomed over her—waiting to devour her.

"How does it feel to be invisible?" the mechanical voice now a caress gently easing into her thoughts, "those you called friends can't recognize you anymore."

She wasn't invisible, just tired. Scared. Lonely. Lost. Everything the Commander didn't feel.

"What is the legendary Commander without biotics? Fodder."

Each attempt she had made had wound up in her losing time. Each subsequent try meant more time and a migraine that intensified. If the migraine ever truly left the lingering stage, but it was something she knew better than to complain about. Nobody needed a reason to worry about her or find another reason to treat her like an outsider. That she couldn't complain about, she hadn't tried hard to be friendly. Instead preferring to remain on the periphery.

"Or is the legend of Shepard over? The husk that you are can't compare."

Or was it easier to relax? To let the burden fade from her shoulders? The crushing weight of everyone's hopes had been too much. Sleepless nights, nightmares, and anxiety permeated every aspect of the Commander's life. Questioning if she had done enough for the war effort, the sewage of her worries toxifying each moment of peace. Guilt over her time in Cereberus still proving to be a hurdle in any reconciliation of her being a basically good person.

It was a little easier being Jane. Not much was expected of her.

"Or are you the vessel of her guilt? The long-overdue penance for her crimes."

Most saw Shepard as the hero. But only because they didn't see the evils she had caused. Colonies. Planets. Friends. Synthetics. Her unit on Akuze. All gone because of her choices. Nobody had time during the war to examine the consequences of her actions. Would they not see them if Shepard simply died on the Citadel? The blame left to some figure that had at least the good sense to atone by dying for the galaxy?

It didn't make her choices better.

But it was less blame to assign to her.

"Whatever you are now isn't worthy of being deemed 'Savior.' You rejected your friend because you feared the face he would see, the nothing you are now."

"I see we're revisiting Harold," the warm voice a sudden break from the cold metallic," I don't understand it, this thing gives me the heebie-jeebies."

Roy's hand on her shoulder a strange grounding back into reality, back into the frigid night air. Her head turned to glance at him, as usual, he softly smiled, amber eyes viewing her with a hint of concern. A familiarity that thawed some of her walls.

"It's also freezing out here, but leave it up to you to be sitting out here. Alone," the chuckle arriving before his teasing, "brooding."

Jane huffed.

Roy's finger stroked the underside of her newest scar that ran along her chin; it was a curious thing with a slight glow, "you need to get this thing checked."

"Thanks, Dad."

"Finally, some respect."

"Don't let it fool you."

The LT sighed heavily in return, turning his head to the Reaper with a reflexive frown," Now, tell the Recruit to stay put for a moment."

Jane hadn't intended to move, but welcomed the checkered blanket that was placed tenderly around her shoulders all the same. Roy placed himself facing her, blocking out the view of the Old Machine. A green bottle finding its way into her hands.

"I can't take this."

"You're not taking it. You're helping me drink beer," he returned smoothly. Extending out his own drink in a toast.

"Well, what do you suggest?" her favorite person murmured. His eyes darting over her lips, but they only ever rested on her eyes. Inviting; her call to calm.

"I can't think of anything better than this moment right now," Mary lost her fight to keep his gaze, her cheeks dusting in red. The possibility of this vulnerable moment turning reared in her head.

"Shepard," Kaidan purred against her lips, pulling her form flush into him, "Shepard."

He didn't move to push the feathery kisses into serious territory, instead enjoying the closeness the two of them rarely got to enjoy. This openness was the prime offering, the exposed throat to be protected. Even rewarded in a way Mary wouldn't see as patronizing.

"Kaidan," Mary muttered, his name dropping as her vocal cords seized.

Kaidan would wait as many beats as she needed.

"This feels almost normal."

His rumbling laugh came fluidly, "what do I need to do to make this normal, normal? Besides ridding the universe of the Reapers, and singlehandedly wiping out Cerebrus."

The Commander considered it for a long moment, "you know that really uncomfortable position where I lay on your arm? I think that would feel more normal."

"Alright, Shepard," Kaidan returned with a grin, scooching both of them awkwardly until he laid on his side and Mary's head rested on his forearm, "anything else?"

The woman grinned bashfully, "no."

"Because you forgot the crappy vid, but it doesn't matter; we wouldn't have watched it anyway," his finger traced across the ridge of her nose.

"Why? Would we too busy, getting busy?"

He laughed again, "maybe. But you don't like to be still that long. You know, you'd have to learn to sit down and watch a vid with me one day."

"If you could refrain from making comments the entire time," Mary retorted smugly.

"Heh." There was a hesitation.

"If you've got something to say to me, Alenko."

His finger gently drew lines between the paths of her freckles, formulating the right words and deciding on a path between his hopes, "sounds like you are planning on keeping me around."

"I-," the sole thing keeping her head from turning away was the hand that cupped her cheek, "I'd like to learn to be normal with you. To have a regular life... with you. Christmases, birthdays... fucking Easter."

Kaidan knew he grinned like an idiot, his cheeks hurting from the width of his smile.

"Hey, kid, you look a little lost there," Roy called, snapping his fingers.

"Oh," she put the bottle to her lips, the somewhat warm liquid coating her mouth, "sorry."

He shrugged nonchalantly, taking his own generous sip. Overlooking the woman curiously.

"LT, I appreciate this, but," Jane struggled with the words, with the absolute coldness she was displaying, "why are you doing this?"

"It's Christmas," Roy stated simply.

So it was, "I'm sure you have better company. Even others that had invited-"

"I did, but don't make this isn't all about you," Roy had his own troubles. Most of them the people that clamored for his attention. Jane wasn't like that, he found her near hostility refreshing. A good break from the worries of being a caretaker for everyone in the building before him. Jane didn't ask for anything. "I am still not convinced I was the one most suitable to speak with that Krogan, Wrex. You seemed to get on with them."

"You got it done."

"We had an unlikely connection, and he's a reasonable person."

Jane shook her head, twisting and opening up her palms in a dismissive motion. Apparently, that was that and a done deal. Returning them to silence.

"I am curious, how does one know so much about aliens, guns, and farming?" He pressed after a moment. The finding of her knowledge of crops was the most surprising thing to learn about her to date. Not that she had deemed to share this openly; instead, he caught it by chance as the Salarian and the Recruit brainstormed the best irrigation and propagation methods with their limited supplies.

Jane's cheeks flushed, even in the dim light, "ahh, I had mentioned my parents were colonists, just not that they were farmers. I'm not an expert or anything. Being a teenager when they died, I had little real interest in it."

"And the aliens?" He wisely pushed away from the subject, already seeing the hints of her recoil. The bobbing of her throat becoming a recognizable tic.

"My postings saw me in diplomatic positions. I spent a considerable amount of time on the Citadel and visited most of the homeworlds of the major council species," Jane glanced to her right, a soft smile spreading on her face.

All considered this was a fucked time to be smiling. Upon further consideration, visiting wasn't the proper term either, she had been there to try and break a siege or to deal with some Reaper-related threat. The smile arose because of the memories of her crewmates, former and well... they were all former now.

"How did you end up so lucky?"

"Some hard work, but mostly luck," her expression darkened before returning to a neutral state.

He had so many more questions. But she had her reasons for not divulging further, for reasons nefarious or more likely classified, Jane kept mum. Pushing her further could only end in retreat.

"Any other fun talents you want to tell me about?"

"Nothing that entertaining," Jane chuckled, "though I'd like to know how you managed to stash beer."

Roy returned the chuckle with a wink, "my secret, Recruit."

"Fine," she smirked, "but what about you? I know you served, but what did you do before this?"

"I own an orchard. I used to be more involved with it. But as men my age do, we like to retire to a quiet life."

"So much for that," Jane murmured, earning another toast with the LT, "any family?"

"Yeah, an old lady, somewhere back home," Roy grew wistful, "I have a kid, too. Somewhere."

Jane knew that tone, the somberness a feeling she was only too familiar with. Much as he never asked about her troubles, she returned the favor. Most had lost something, if not everything in this short but brutal war.

The man picked himself up as he finished his beer, stashing both bottles into a pile of rubble to retrieve later.

"You should come back inside for dinner, word and smell is that someone made actual bread. Rolls."

Roy offered out his hand.

#mass effect fanfiction #shenko #female shepard x kaidan #mass effect spoilers #fancition #take me home #mass effect #kaidan alenko #shep x kaidan

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good-rwbyaus · 4 years

Note

Au where Whitley has actually been running the bank accounts since he was young and keeping the group financially viable

#Rising Snow AU - mod lilac - [ next ]

1. Beginning

It started when his father, smelling like expensive liquors and overbearing perfume, shoved a packet of folders at him and stated “You deal with it. Your father has a hang- headache” before staggering off back to his bedroom to sleep off yesterday’s social gathering.

He was ecstatic. His father began to trust him to handle things in the company. Before he was a mere fixture in the company, only present to speak pleasantries and let others know that Jacques Schnee had a well-bred son. But now he had responsibilities and power.

Whitley Schnee, soon-to-be-heir of the Schnee Dust Company since Weiss didn’t seem to care about it and Willow just left to join Atlas, will show everyone his worth, starting with.... a whole lot of complaints about their customer service.

_______________________________________

2. Complaints

“This motor is covered under warranty. I still have the original receipt. You have to take it back.”

“Sorry, but the warranty only covers usage in automobiles. You said you tried installing it in a motorcycle, so your warranty is void.”

“...A motorcycle is an automobile, sir.”

“Look smartass, you’re getting on my nerves. You’re not going to get a refund from the Schnee Dust Company, got it?”

“Excuse me!? I want to talk to your manager. Now.”

“I am the manager. Now stop wasting my time.”

“Wh-”

Click.

Whitley’s eyebrows creased sharply as he closed the Scroll. He took slow deep breaths trying to get rid of the anger trembling through his body. A Schnee is like ice. They do not show their rage unless they can leverage it for their purposes. His teeth gritted once more and relaxed.

Those two-faced bastards. He knew the customer service staff were no good when they started fawning over him, telling him that “of course they got complaints when they couldn’t fulfill their requests” or “we got everything under control.”

In reality, they were all just disgusting liars who couldn’t do their job. If he hadn’t been suspicious of them, they might’ve gotten away with it. Those people had to be removed before they truly caused an incident; he cannot let such unsightly things remain.

He picked up the phone.

________________________________________

3. Fired.

“You can’t do this to us! This is going against our contract.”

“Just because you’re your father’s son doesn’t mean you have any power here.”

“You’re going to speak to my lawyer about unfair dismissal, kid!”

It’s funny. The half-dozen or so people who were fawning over him just hours earlier were now cursing and shaming him. Of course they were angry. He just told them they were all fired a couple minutes ago and stopped saying anything when they started yelling like a mob. His lips trembled, trying to stop himself from smiling.

Gods. He was so angry that he’s finding humor in it. Do they really think they have power here?

Bang.

A bald-headed tall man - the manager he spoke to last - slammed his hands onto his desk, looming over him as if to intimidate him with the threat of physical violence. The noise made him flinch slightly, breaking his facade of calm and causing the other guy to smirk mockingly at him.

Bastard.

This farce has gone on long enough.

“Okay. You can keep your jobs...”

Immediately, the six people leered triumphantly with the one at the head of the pack messing his desk up proudly stood up.

“Good kid, see you know when you’re in the wrong.”

“Yeah, smart like your father,” said the man at his desk about to pat him on the head. Immediately, he swatted the man’s hand away.

“...as I gather the audio logs for our lawyers to peruse and determine how much damage you’ve done to the company’s image.”

That silenced the room better than a dead body being found in it.

“If you didn’t do anything wrong, you’ll have my apologies and a bonus for your troubles. But if you’ve damaged our image... well, a company’s face is priceless - but I can definitely try to get back some recompense.”

He lifted a finger which everyone else in the room followed.

“That’s your first option. The other option is to resign quietly, and I will not pursue this in the future. You can take the time to think about it.

“You can-”

“You’re all dismissed. If you linger around a second longer,” he glared at the group, “I’m going to assume you’re taking the first option and want to be escorted out.”

Immediately, upon realizing who had the actual power in the room, the group of six began to scramble out of the room, but just as the bald-headed manager exited out the door, Whitley spoke up. The words caused the man to stiffen up.

“Except you. You don’t get an option, manager. You're fired. Wait to hear from my lawyers.”

He steepled his fingers together, a vicious satisfied smile on his lips.

________________________________________

4. Security Card

...Okay. That was scary. He honestly thought that baldy was going to hit him at the very end. In the future, he was going to have a bodyguard in the room or Klein just in case. He loosened his vest slightly, the cloth sticking to his back from the cold sweat.

It was weird though. Why did something like customer service go all the way up to the level of the President?

Wasn’t that something for managers or department heads to solve?

“Maybe it’s just a test from father,” Whitley spoke out loud. He shook his head.

Yeah, that was probably it.

----

Little did he know that his carelessly stated statement was caught by a hidden camera in his room.

----

The next day he found a folder on his desk and a white card with the label of 00 on it.

________________________________________

5. Assignment

“Hey, Klein,” Whitley asked cautiously as the loyal man handed him a glass of water, “Did father come into my room yesterday?”

He didn’t know what to make of the butler at times or how to treat him. Father said never to treat the help too kindly or they’ll take advantage of it, but Klein was someone he knew since he was born. He’s never seen him be anything but loyal and attentive. He wasn’t like the people he just dealt with.

Maybe he would’ve just dismissed him as just the help, but after having seen a very recent example of two-faced people, he couldn’t quite agree with his father’s assessment of Klein.

“Your father has gone on va-,” the man paused upon seeing the contents on the desk, particularly the white card on his desk. “That card?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a card like this before,” Whitley replied, “What does it actually do?”

Klein stared at the card quietly before saying, “Only the Master of the House could’ve given you that card. It will open every lock and file in the Schnee Dust Company. It means the Master has given you authority second to them.”

“Father must really trust me after I got results, right?” he proudly stated as he started shuffling through the documents. In doing so, he missed Klein’s smile, both proud and pained at the same time.

The cursory review made his self-praising words die in his throat.

“Wait...He wants me to solve all these?!” Whitley yelled. It wasn’t that the entire packet consisted of a single problem. The entire seventy-two page packet was a large list of overdue problems and documents that required his attention.

“Where’s father?”

“He’s currently on vacation. He won’t be here for a month.”

“Didn’t he just go on vacation two weeks ago? There should be someone to substitute while he’s gone?”

“...No, sir. This is how it always has been.”

“Haha. You’re joking. Or is this part of the test, Klein?” He laughed but it soon died on his throat, seeing the man’s grim face.

“I will not lie to you, young master.” Klein remarked before adding with a nudge of his head, “There’s a note.”

He’s right. There was. The script was in cursive; it would’ve been elegant and soft if it weren’t for the shakiness in it.

‘You have the right idea. Sometimes problems need to find the right people.’

________________________________________

6. Delegation

This was stupid. The purchasing of toilet paper or whether it had to be 2-ply or 3-ply or setting the price of bubble-gum at the employee store did not need to pass through the president’s desk.

Hell. It’s like anything that involved the tiniest amount of money or required the slightest authority needed to make its way to his desk.

This was not a functional solution. He’ll die of exhaustion by the end of the week if that continued.

And the answers from the department heads were incredibly unhelpful.

‘It has always been this way.’

But it hasn’t. Looking through the records only he could access, everything changed when his father inherited the company from his grandfather. His father first fired anyone that disagreed with him and then diverted anything that looked like it involved money up to the very top. Maybe it was important back then, but those measures certainly didn’t need to be used now.

His father ruled with an iron fist when it came to the company. No one dared to challenge his authority now.

His father was smart. Intelligent. These actions didn’t match that. Was this just another one of his tests? He wanted to believe that, but...

‘The only person you can trust is yourself. Everyone else can betray you. Even family. Only trust others if you have power over them, that is trust.’

...It did match what his father would do. And if there was nothing else he learned from all those official dinners and parties, he knew how to read people, especially his father and his mercurial temper.

With how many of these documents have been untouched and unread, what exactly is his father doing?

Come to think of it. When was the last time his father sat in front of a computer instead of going on vacation or to one of his many dinners with his business associates?

He shook his head. Impossible. His father definitely worked hard. How else would this company be standing if he was that neglectful? Maybe these files were just like the 5% of untouched work since he had so much wor-

His screen flickered as he clicked on another file. The pillar of red pointing downwards made him pale.

[ next ]

#honorable-asshole #mod lilac #whitley schnee #willow schnee #rwby au #rwby fic #fwby #rising snow au

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discotenny · 4 years

Text

!Bungo Stray Brothers!

Ranpo and Poe with a little sister

!requested by @maibeff!

This is long overdue sorry djfjdk. I accidentally posted this last night oopsie >.> trying something new w the banners

Okay so I know that everyone says Ranpo would be a really lazy brother, and he still is don’t get me wrong, butttt Ranpo would be a top-notch sibling

During the time of your parents’ deaths, you were barely a teenager. At the prior advice of your late parents, he dragged you to Yokohama, where the two of you now reside. Through the years, Ranpo filled the void left by your parents, guiding and teaching you as they once did. Well, trying his best to do so anyways

Despite his attitude aimed at many, Ranpo is quite caring towards you. He’s constantly checking up on your wellbeing, whether through texts or casual conversation. Sometimes, he’ll even do that thing where a person messes up someone's hair with their hand in passing

While not as athletic as his coworkers, Ranpo can still put up some of a fight. Thus, he will absolutely try to fight anyone that attempts to mess with his dear sister

He thinks the world of you, and you’re one of the few people he’ll give some of his oh so coveted praise to

Your relationship with Fukuzawa is very friendly. While he’s a father figure to Ranpo, he’s more of a grandfather character to you since you don’t see him as much

Ranpo insists you visit the ADA offices often, and so you also have friendly relations with the rest of the members. Though Ranpo warns you not to get deeply involved with Dazai for some reason 🤔

With any romantic partner you have, he wants to have a one on one talk with them to discern if they’re a good enough person for you. Though an issue he has is that he judges everyone to his standards, and his standards are high

Household chores are a big no-no when it comes to Ranpo, and often you’ll be forced to literally lay the vacuum on him if you want him to do shit

Your fridge is always empty due to both you and Ranpo’s negligence when it comes to grocery shopping. It becomes a daily occurrence for you two to text each other back and forth begging for the other to purchase some groceries on their way home

Y/n: Ranpoooo can you pls pick up some eggs after work? We also need [insert shopping list of items]

Five minutes later...

Ranpo: Hey y/n can you pick up [insert a screenshot of the shopping list from your message] on your way home

When the time comes for you to move out, Ranpo tries his best not to cry as he hugs you before you go. Being the only family he has left in the world, your departure affects him a lot. Afterward, Ranpo ends up learning how to manage the trains by himself just so he can visit you all by himself ~

A sibling who’s a student [around a high schooler, so let’s say 18]

He’s always making comments on your homework being ‘too easy,’ and will sometimes do some problems on your worksheets out of pure boredom

Ranpo would absolutely help you cheat with assignments

For a small fee of course... that fee coming in the form of snacks

As Ranpo serves as your legal guardian, he’s the one that has to sign all your school papers. Most of the time he leaves you stressed, messed, and upset as he always lets forms go unsigned until the very last minute

Despite being a student, you still end up cooking for the two of you most of the time

If you go to the convenience store after your school day, Ranpo always texts you. One, to check up on you. And two, to make sure you buy him a bag candy

When you don’t walk straight home from school, chances are you head your way towards the detective agency. When you do so, Ranpo is calling you over to his desk and tells you do work on your homework beside him. Even if you don’t have homework Ranpo will still tell you to sit at his desk just so he can keep some eye on you

When the ADA closes up for the day, you two end up eating out at a cafe somewhere. No exceptions, this happens every time

If it weren’t for his height, most would assume that Poe was the younger of you two

If anyone were to attempt to hurt this babby, you’d likely be the one sticking up for him. He felt awful and weak during any kind of occurrence like this, and often would hideaway for a bit after

While he’s not particularly strong, Poe is an amazing listener and will hear you out with any struggles you have at the moment. He would even tell Karl to curl up in your lap, a small sign of his trust towards you

In turn, when he becomes upset over his loss to Ranpo, you’re there right by his side after to cheer him up. Even when he shuts off all personal connections after his crushing defeat, you still check up on him to make sure he hasn’t withered away

You’re his biggest supporter and vise versa

Poe is r i c h. If your family didn’t come from wealth before, you bet your ass that he shares his coin with you. Though, you feel a bit bad for accepting the large amounts of money he sends you. But, your brother persists that its just pay back for all of your support

When Poe got Karl at the age of 10 [let’s just say he got him at 10 because raccoons live up to an average of 20 years domesticated], he would do everything in his power to make sure the two of you got along. Eventually, you warmed up to his new pet and Poe couldn’t be happier

Growing up, you were always by his side. Seeing as he’s quite sensitive and timid, you would cling to him in order to watch out for any possible detriments to your brother’s happiness. Sticking to his side most of your childhood, you grew a fondness for all the stories he would write

When he first discovered his ability, you and Poe would spend hours exploring the world of different books. While he may have not been into the kind of books you would read as a youngling, everything was worth it if he got to see you smile

You two would also have sleepovers in his room. Dragging a blanket and pillow to his door, you’d ask if you would be allowed to sleep in his bedroom for the night. Despite it surprising him each time, Poe would never deny your request

With blankets, Karl, and pillows strewn around the room, Poe would excuse himself to the kitchen to make the two of your some tea. You’d almost always fall asleep next to your brother as he drafted new stories

When Poe gets involved with The Guild, the first thing you worry about his his safety. Then he gets upset at the fact that he’s worried you and ends up calling you, frantically apologizing and hoping you won’t dislike him. The last thing he wants in life is your disapproval ;-;

While you hold no issue with The Guild’s ‘activities’ [more so you don’t know about their crimes], you make your brother promise you that he’d be careful

On his leave to Japan and subsequent announcement that he’d stay there indefinitely, you’re already making plans to visit him one day

His sister comes to Japan

Your visit is a surprise, even if you have been messaging him about it for weeks

Y/n: Edgar! I’m leaving for Japan tomorrow morning so I’m going to have to sleep early tonight.

Poe spits out his tea

Edgar: Yourecomingtojapanwhat?

Of course, he picks you up, what kind of brother would he be if he didn’t?

Seeing you at the airport, Poe can’t contain his smile. While you two don’t hug, Poe is ecstatic to see you and can’t wait to show you around. Karl is in the car and he immediately jumps onto you when you come in

When he introduces you to Ranpo, you can’t help but hold a little grudge. Cmon, this was the man that caused your dear brother to become a recluse for years! Though Poe sees your hesitation and encourages you that all blood is fine between the two. After seeing how happy your brother becomes at Ranpo’s company, you admit that he isn’t awful

Your time in Japan is spent talking with Poe and Ranpo most of the time. While it’s mostly chilling in the detective agency, your brother’s friend ends up dragging the two of you around to different cafe’s

Once, Ranpo asked if you knew of the chaos that The Guild caused in Japan. It’s the one time he’s ever seen and heard Poe so panicked as he screamed ‘I wasn’t involved’

Wouldn’t it be funny if you and Ranpo fell into a relationship

Hrjdksks apologies these are too long ;-; I liked writing these so there may be a bit of incoherence throughout... Also I haven’t posted in a week oops. Thank you for your kind words Mai ! All the love in the world for you 💕

I hope you enjoyed anyways, and apologies for any future disappointment

#bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #bsd #bsd x reader #bsd headcanons #bsd imagines #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs headcanons #bungou stray dogs imagines #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs headcanons #bungo stray dogs imagines #bsd poe x reader #bsd ranpo x reader #bsd ranpo #bsd poe #poe x reader #ranpo x reader

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trashforgubler · 4 years

Text

Writings On the Wall

Word Count: 1.3k

Summary: You and Spencer are friends, but then you find a giant pile of unsent love letters that he wrote about you stored in his desk

Extra Info: Y’all seem to like Reid - centric fics so here ya go. Song is “Writings on the Wall” by Sam Smith

Inspired By: this really cute post

Requests: Open

masterpost

One more paragraph. Just one more. You could do this.

Well, maybe you could, but your last pen gave up the ghost halfway through the first sentence. Biting back a growl of frustration, you drop the pen and stare at it menacingly as it rolls across your page. Here you were, trying to get some work done for once and that thing has the audacity to tap out..

“Hey Y/N, Morgan and I are gonna go grab lunch. Wanna come?” Spencer’s tall form appeared in front of you, a giant smile plastered on his face per usual. You hated to admit it but his messy hair and wrinkled sweater looked particularly cute today. The offer was tempting, but you were afraid that if you didn’t get through your work now, you wouldn’t ever do it and the last thing you needed was Hotch on your ass about late assignments.

“No, I’m gonna take a raincheck. Sorry pretty boy.” The disappointment flashed on his face only momentarily before he promptly covered it up.

“Okay, well have fun with… that.” He said, gesturing to the never-ending pile of papers on your desk.

He waved goodbye as he and Morgan headed out of the room, before you called out to him, “Could I borrow a pen?”

“Yeah it’s in my desk!” He yelled from the elevators. You flashed him a quick thumbs up as the doors closed before walking over to it. Man, that dude has no right to be making fun of you for your desk. If yours was messy, his was catastrophic. Seriously, there was not an inch of it that wasn’t covered in empty coffee cups, old case reports, or some random paperback that your pretty sure no other human being could possibly have interest in. You eyed multiple books that weren’t even in English. A laugh escaped your lips as you realized Spencer’s desk is the perfect representation of Spencer himself. But, no matter how fun it was to count the number of coffee stains on his papers, you did actually come here for a reason. Unfortunately, Spencer was not to clear on the coordinates of his pens, so you started opening random drawers until you found them. After all, there were only three.

First drawer: More books, mostly overdue ones from the library. God this guy needs an e -reader.

Second drawer: His laptop, a package of expired cough drops, and an old sudoku puzzle book.

Third drawer: Paper. Lots of paper. Actually, so much paper, you could barely get the drawer open all the way. You wouldn’t have thought anything of it, until you saw your name written at the top of one of them.

You felt a tingle of guilt go through your body as you took the top sheet out and read it.

Dear Y/N,

You looked so beautiful today. I wanted to tell you, but I every time I look at you, I feel like I can’t speak. I can hear the words I want to say swirling around in my brain, but by the time I want to say them, I get so nervous that they don’t come out right. On the jet ride home today, I saw you in the back making tea. Only you could look so perfect doing such an arbitrary task. You looked so gorgeous I actually got out of my seat, suddenly feeling confident enough to tell you. I wanted to look into your eyes and say that your smile makes my heart flutter, and your laugh makes me want to cry. Not because it’s a bad laugh. Because it’s a beautiful laugh. On second thought, I probably wouldn’t say that. Its confusing. I wanted to tell you that you are the most exquisite thing I had ever seen. Instead, I asked you what kind of tea you were making. When you said mint, I said “mm caffeine.” After that complete failure at flirtation, I went back to my seat and tried to figure out what about you made me so jittery. I don’t know what it is. But I know that one day I’ll figure it out. And once I do, I’ll be able to tell you all of that, and so much more.

Love, Spencer

What? You had seen the way Spencer sneaks glances at you out of the corner of his eyes when he thought you weren’t looking, but you didn’t think much of it. You were friends. Of course, you definitely had a crush on him. You blushed the first time you shook hands with him, and ever since then you had been secretly hoping he would ask you out, but you didn’t think that he was interested. Guess you overestimated your profiling skills on that one. Setting the letter beside you on the floor, you looked back into the drawer. It only took a moment to realize the entire thing was stuffed with letters to you. One after the other you pulled them out. Some were multiple pages stapled together. Long lines that read like poetry. Others were barely legible scribbles on coffee stained sticky notes.

You said you liked my sweater today and I had to bite my tongue so I didn’t say, “It would look better on you.”

You were so enveloped in reading each and every scrap of paper in the drawer you completely lost track of time. Before you knew it, you heard Spencer’s laugh coming toward you, and there was no time to hide what you had found.

“And then I- nomygod!” Spencer’s carefree tone was replaced by sheer panic when he saw you on your knees, next to a giant pile of paper and a now empty bottom drawer. You knew you had to address it, but you weren’t quite sure how to start this conversation. You had been reading for so long you almost forgot how to speak. Maybe Spencer’s social awkwardness was contagious.

Not trusting yourself to form a coherent sentence, you settled for a drawn out, “Hey, Spence.” Sheepishly, you stared at the papers on the floor, knowing it was beyond obvious what you had done. On the one hand, you felt guilty. It’s his desk, his letters, his privacy was being evaded. But on the other hand, they were all about you, and the man clearly needs help expressing his feelings.

“Did you- ”

“Yep.”

“All of them?”

“Yep.”

“Oh.” Spencer tucked his hands into his pockets and stared at the ground, not knowing where to start. One of his biggest and most embarrassing secrets had just been discovered from the one person he was determined to hide it from.

“Okay,” Derek started. Both you and Spencer jerked your heads up at him, completely forgetting that he was still there. “I don’t know what you’ve gotten yourselves into, but I’m just gonna go hang out with Garcia while you to figure out… this.” He said gesturing to the mess. He laughed and playfully hit Spencer on the shoulder, clearly seeing that he was beyond embarrassed by whatever was going on.

“Spence…”

“I – I’m sorry, Y/N. I know it’s weird and its creepy but I just had all these feelings and I could never talk about them because I didn’t know how so I just wrote them out and hoped that they would help me actually talk to you but it obviously didn’t help and I just kept writing them anyways and oh my god this is so embarrassing.” He turned a shade of red you didn’t know human beings were even capable of. Nothing in life had ever prepared you for a situation like this, so you did what you always do when people you love are upset.

You stood up from the floor and placed your hands on his shoulders, forcing his eyes to meet yours. “I love you too Spence,” you said softly. The smile on his face was indescribable as he wrapped his arms tight around your body.

#writing #writer #fanfiction #criminal minds #spencer reid #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #fanfic #spencer reid fluff #spencer x reader #prompt #send prompts

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deadweight-at7am · 4 years

Text

Changes

- First and foremost, I BOUGHT A MUHFUGGIN CAR!! That was long, long overdue. I got reamed with the interest, which I knew i would but I got myself a nice Honda Civic EX (2013). It’s the first car I’ve ever purchased for myself and I felt like a badass. I did it all by myself, no help from anyone. I had to give myself a pat on the back because almost everyone else was in there with someone else - and I was sitting alone, doing my thing. Fuck that man, I don’t need anyone.

- The ex and I have been getting along better but we still have bitter arguments from time to time. It became clear to me I still hold a lot of resentment. I think I will for a while. It’s just kind of natural, I feel, especially after spending over a decade with someone. But I am trying not to let it cloud my judgment too much. Sometimes I can feel it getting the better of me, or my paranoia seeps in. We argue about the same things over and over again. But we also go back to a friendly rapport afterwards.... which is a little odd, but that’s kind of always been our dynamic.

- My son is back on his bullshit of not doing his assigned work for his classes and I am really, really tired of babysitting him. I don’t quite understand the dynamic or why he can't seem to stay on top of things but I am BUSY during the week and can’t really look over his shoulder. Once his classes end, I am busy doing other things and all I can do is tell him to get finished any work he has outstanding. Of course, it appears that he is going to need a lot more hand-holding. I’m just fucking tired, ok? Shoot me. I don’t want to do this anymore.

- I got back on medication and it has been helping somewhat, I feel. I can tell that it has helped already which is good. It gave me super vivid dreams the first couple nights but none so far the past 2 days. So we’ll see. But I still get shitty sleep a lot of the time.

I hope everyone is doing well. Going to try to catch up on some of what I’ve missed.

#personal #personal post #car #adulting

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shikamarubase · 4 years

Text

Scarred -Chapter Two-

A/N: Happy Nara Week, everyone! I was supposed to write something else for the first day, but please accept this overdue chapter for the ANBU prompt instead. You can find the first chapter here! I hope you enjoy! <3

—————

Chapter Two:

Shikamaru was, without a shadow of a doubt, late for the meeting.

Rushed for time, he dashed across the hallway leading to the Hokage’s office after changing into his full uniform. His hands fumbled over his ANBU mask as he ran, and he couldn’t stop the string of curses from escaping his mouth when the material got tangled in his windswept hair. Letting his dark hair fall over his shoulders instead of bundling it into the usual ponytail minimized the risk of being recognized during missions; his job was dangerous enough without the additional threat of being hunted down by someone with a grudge. Nevertheless, during times like these, he regretted ever agreeing to wear his hair down for ANBU business.

By the time he unceremoniously stumbled into Kakashi’s office, Ino and Chouji were already standing raptly in attention. He mumbled a quick apology as five pairs of eyes flickered over to him.

Five? Shikamaru arched an eyebrow and surveyed the figures inside.

Ino’s and Chouji’s faces were unsurprisingly hidden beneath their respective ANBU masks, but he didn’t need to read their expressions to confirm there was something amiss by the stiffness of their shoulders. Kakashi, however, was the picture of calm. He casually leaned back into his chair and regarded him thoughtfully with one eye, as if he already knew what was going through Shikamaru’s mind. The remaining two unfamiliar guests stood by the Hokage’s work table. Shikamaru was suddenly glad for the mask he wore over his face, otherwise they would have noticed him gaping at them. He was not one to judge appearances, but they wore attires he would describe as either needlessly fancy or completely ludicrous.

The taller one of the two wore a dark hood with cat-like ears over his head, a sharp contrast to the bright face paint decorating his face. He sneered in contempt, and Shikamaru couldn’t help but imagine he was being hissed at by an angry feline. “Oi oi, you dare call yourself a member of the ANBU Corps when you can’t even be on time? Kakashi, are you sure this guy is suitable?”

Next to him, the man with a mop of red hair cupped his shoulder. “Brother, stop.”

His voice was soft, but was laced with authority and a twinge of danger. Shikamaru couldn’t contain the small shiver that ran up his spine as he eyed the smaller man. When he raised his head, Shikamaru caught a glimpse of a tattoo hidden underneath his fringe. His instincts tingled in anticipation. He wasn’t particularly scary or huge, and yet there was something almost intimidating in the way his emotionless green eyes met his.

“Excuse my brother’s rudeness. He has been a bit wired ever since he allowed our sister to slip away.“

The older man’s jaw tightened in protest. “Oh c’mon, Gaara. You know Temari would’ve snuck out no matter how many guards we assign to watch her, and—”

“And that’s precisely why we’re here,” Gaara finished for him. His eyes lingered on Shikamaru for half a second longer before fixing them back on Kakashi. “Can I assume we have all gathered to begin our discussion?”

Kakashi straightened himself before giving a quick nod. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

Before Shikamaru could wrap his head around that, the Hokage was already gesturing at him and speaking to snarky cat ears. “While Kurohi may not look or act the part, I assure you he is one of our best and brightest. Your sister will be in safe hands, Prince Kankuro.”

Your Majesty? Prince? His head swirled from the prestigious titles thrown inside the room, he didn’t acknowledge when Kakashi addressed him by his given ANBU name nor did he wait for Kankuro’s response.

He was in the presence of royalty. That would explain the extravagant clothing they had on and why Ino and Chouji looked so stiff. They had to deal with the temper of an impatient royal, because he was tardy. Suddenly the entire room reeked of power, and while Shikamaru wasn’t particularly fazed by ranking, he had to acknowledge that half of the people in the room could easily sentence him to death and he would have no way of stopping them. He mentally kicked himself for not figuring it out sooner—Gaara had a cape strapped to his back, for shinobi’s sake! For the better half of his life, he’s had family, friends, and even complete strangers tell him how intelligent he was behind his unmotivated facade. If they could only see him now, they’d understand why he always disagreed.

From Kakashi’s place behind the desk, he spoke to the trio directly as Gaara and Kankuro settled comfortably into the couch. “I’m sure you have figured it out by now, but the two gentlemen before you are none other than King Gaara and Prince Kankuro from Sunagakure. Another unit was assigned to escort them on their way here, but the next step requires the kind of teamwork only the three of you can offer.”

He paused when Gaara suddenly stood up, his cape fluttering behind him. “Lord Hokage, I’d like to tell them the details myself, if you don’t mind.”

If Kakashi was in any way shocked by the offer, he kept it to himself. Instead, he extended a courteous gesture before he sat back down and folded his arms.

Gaara trained his eyes on them. “As you all know, Suna and Konoha have been...at odds for almost a decade, ever since the last great war tore apart any chance of establishing an amicable relationship between our villages. And while we persistently tried to convince him otherwise, our father had blatantly refused to ally with another, so we have been...out of touch for the past few years.”

Shikamaru’s attention shifted when Kankuro scoffed lightly into his hand, a small scowl curling at the corner of his lips. Although his first impression of the temperamental Prince was less than appealing, he could understand where he’s coming from. If they were related, Gaara’s words would elicit an eyeroll out of him as well.

‘Out of touch’ was a severe understatement. The people of the desert kingdom were already known to keep to themselves and constantly avoid direct contact with foreigners, but after the war King Rasa kept the kingdom under lockdown and made sure not a single sandrat could sneak in or out. Anyone who tried was declared a terrorist and executed on the spot. Under the orders of the former Hokage, Shikamaru had snuck in once before for an espionage mission, and nearly lost his neck trying to sneak back out. In the short time he was there, one thing was clear: fear amongst the Sunan civilians was palpable. Sunagakure was a prison cell under the guise of a kingdom; Guards from the royal palace took turns patrolling the city in the interest of enforcing public safety. But rather than give off the image of being protected, civilians behaved skittishly and stepped outside the comforts of their homes at odd hours, almost as if they were afraid to bring attention to themselves. Shikamaru guessed the guards were really stationed to make sure no rebellion sprung up to overthrow the throne. He had to hand it to the former king—he was nothing if not ruthless. Rumors have it he’d trained thousands of soldiers inside the castle grounds in preparation for the next war, and he wasn’t modest about it either. Every other week, Shikamaru would hear news of how “the power-hungry King Rasa” had razed through yet another small neighboring village with no military power to assert his dominance and expand his domain. He was a detestable man who left only destruction and tragedy in his wake. His reputation preceded him, even in death. Despite the grotesque details surrounding his demise, everyone breathed a sigh of relief when he was finally out of the throne.

Sensing the tension in the room at the mention of the former King, Gaara cleared his throat. “As I was saying, now that I have ascended the throne, my first agenda is to rebuild my people’s trust in the royal family and to keep them safe from terrorist attacks. Father’s...excursions brought him enemies who’d love nothing more than to eradicate the royal bloodline and destroy our kingdom. The Land of Wind is one of the five founding countries, with rich history stemming from the beginning of civilization. We cannot let it fall so easily. Which is why, as King, I have decided to form a pact with your Hokage and ally ourselves to your nation...in exchange for your protection.”

Shikamaru’s mind raced at his final statement. It was customary for ANBU not to ask questions during mission briefs, but before he could stop himself concern tumbled out of his open mouth. “Pardon my rudeness, but why would you need our protection?”

Next to him, he felt Chouji tense but forced himself to keep his eyes trained on Gaara through the cover of his mask. The King brought a hand to his chin and regarded him curiously. “The Land of Fire boasts the strongest soldiers of all countries. Ninjas from this land are especially talented. Although I wasn’t able to take part in the last Great War, I’ve heard stories of how Konoha soldiers fought valiantly and pushed the war back despite their shortage of manpower.”

Shikamaru nodded briefly at this. It was a story he’d heard over and over as a child. It was his father, Nara Shikaku, who devised the strategies that led to their success in the war. “But I believe you’re mistaken,” he responded, his voice uncharacteristically clear and crisp even to his own ears. “ANBU normally don't fight in wars and most of us aren’t as powerful as you think. We only possess skills suitable for stealth missions, so I don’t see what we can do for you. If you want raw power, it’d be better to seek it from our Jounin or your own soldiers.”

“Kurohi,” Kakashi started to say, but Gaara raised a palm to cut him off.

“Sunagakure has a great number of skilled soldiers, yes. If this were for any other occasion, you’d be right. But as it stands, we need your expertise.”

Shikamaru arched an eyebrow as Gaara started pacing back and forth in front of them.

“Our soldiers are naturally proud and hot-blooded; we pride ourselves for being brave and we never back out from a fight. It is in our nature to rush into battle, even if we have nothing but the clothes on our backs. Some call it foolish, but we call it courage. Unfortunately, our courage makes us more prone to life-threatening situations. While we make up for it with overwhelming strength, our strategic planning is severely lacking. I soon realized, there is no point in winning a war if the soldiers don’t make it back home. When we heard there is a genius with an I.Q. of over 200 in Konoha, working behind the scenes and ensuring successful missions with almost zero fatality rate, we knew you would be the right man for the job.”

Gaara stepped forward and grasped Shikamaru’s shoulder, fingers curling into his skin. “There’s no need to hide behind your mask now, Nara Shikamaru.”

Shikamaru’s blood ran cold. Every bone in his body screamed for him to rip his hand away. This man was dangerous, his instincts gnawed at his head. He was the opposite of Kankuro, who seemed to instill fear through the volume of his voice and biting threats. And yet, the air around the current King was more than enough to keep him frozen in place. It almost felt as if he was facing a veteran soldier, a comforting presence to have around as a comrade but not someone he’d want as an enemy.

Shikamaru lifted his hand to heed to the command, his dark hair swishing over his shoulders as he removed the mask and shook his head slightly. When he lowered his chin to meet Gaara’s eyes, there was no longer any barrier between them.

“What exactly do you need me for?” He mumbled.

A small smile tugged at the corner of Gaara’s lips before he turned his back and went back to his original position. “I need the three of you,” his eyes flitted over to Ino and Chouji, “to guard my elder sister.”

The tension in his chest dispersed. That was not the kind of S-rank mission he had in mind.

As if sensing his disappointment, Kakashi stood up and waved a folder in his hand. “To seal our alliance, Princess Temari is to be wed to our Feudal Lord, Madoka Makoto, and your team has been assigned to be her bodyguards,” he explained.

That earned a small squeak from Ino. She always went on about how handsome the young leader was. If they weren’t in a meeting Shikamaru would’ve rolled his eyes.

“Our father’s assassin is still at large, and we have reason to believe they’ll be coming after us next. We have curbed countless rebellions over the last few years, all of which demanded to bring an end to our sovereignty. While we want to use this opportunity to establish a trusting relationship, they see it as a plot to continue our bloodline and expand our rule.”

“And, is it not?” Shikamaru raised a dubious eyebrow.

Gaara chuckled, the first time his face ever broke out of its stoic mask. “It is an amusing idea,” he admitted, “but I could hardly say I am cunning enough to come up with such an elaborate plan.”

His features clouded over as he added, “Brother and I have mastered swordsmanship, but Temari has no means to protect herself from criminals. They will surely capitalize on the opportunity to attack her and reveal themselves in the process.”

In Shikamaru’s head, his words easily translated to, “I’m using my sister as bait to lure out my father’s killers.”

Finally catching on to their hidden motive, his mind whirled with questions. If the princess was meant to be a catalyst for the alliance, why was she not a part of the meeting? And he had met his fair share of government leaders, and they were definitely not this chatty, especially for someone who’d practically admitted to having a target on his back. Suspicion gnawed at him like a persistent bug. If there was one thing he was sure of: the Sabaku Royal Family weren’t hanging around for entirely diplomatic reasons. And one more thing bothered him...

“What does she look like?” He blurted out and scrambled to cover his outburst. “We can’t protect her if we don’t know her face.”

“Indeed.” As Gaara took the folder from Kakashi and handed it to him, Shikamaru’s thoughts flickered over to the blonde woman he ran into that morning. A foreigner running around the city in a fancy day gown the same day he was assigned as a bodyguard to the Sunan King’s sister? It couldn’t be a coincidence.

He slowly flipped the folder open, his eyes scanning the description of the mission until they landed on a photograph. She looked exactly as he remembered; perched daintily on a wide couch in a lilac princess gown, with four bundles of blonde hair sticking over her head. Her lips pursed together into a pout as her striking teal eyes stared into the camera.

“If you show your face around me again you’ll be sorry!” Her parting words reverberated in his head as his worst suspicions were realized.

He inwardly groaned. This job was going to be more troublesome than he bargained for.

#naraweek2020 #day 1 #shikatema #nara shikamaru #yamanaka ino #akimichi chouji #scarred royalty au #anbu shikamaru #hatake kakashi #sabaku no gaara #sabaku no kankuro #I honestly dont evenknow what to think about this chapter #what is english? what is good writing? Idk them

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