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jaceyneedsabetterusername · 4 years

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Manhattan Sunsets

Pairing: Arvin Russel x Fem!Reader

Summary: Arvin gets stationed in Brooklyn after a tour in Vietnam but had never really gone into the city before. When he does, he meets Y/N, who makes it a point to get this small town boy to see the city. (Requested by @euphoriaoxygen)

Warnings: Brief mentions of PTSD from the war

Word Count: 3950

A/N: Sorry this took so long to get out. I killed my computer, had to buy a new one, and then I had to catch up on school but I’m hoping to get more fics out.

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When Arvin left Knockemstiff, he had no idea what he was planning to do with his life. What could he do? He murdered four people. The idea alone left him feeling sick to his stomach but he knew that at the end of the day, that was exactly what had happened. It wasn’t that he regretted any of it. Preston Teagarden had to pay for his role in Lenora’s suicide and the harm of who knows how many other girls. Carl, Sandy, and Sheriff Lee were all going to kill him first. He knew at least the last three were self-defense, but what did the police think?

A few weeks had gone by since he left Knockemstiff, traveling to Cincinnati with that nice fella that had given him a ride. Those weeks had given him time to really sit and think about his future. That was when he realized that he didn’t really have plans. His entire life, he told himself he’d get out of Coal Creek eventually. The last thing he wanted to do was die in that little God forsaken town but, beyond that, he didn’t really know. He honestly figured that his life would begin whenever his grandmother and Uncle Earskell passed away so they didn’t need him to care for them anymore. That was all out of the cards now, though, knowing that he’d endanger them just by going back.

On Tuesday of the third week, he found himself at a recruiter’s office in Fort Thomas, Kentucky, enlisting for the army. If he was being honest with himself, even as he signed the papers, he knew he didn’t want to go overseas. The Vietnam War was one that practically nobody supported, including Arvin. He never understood why the U.S. felt the need to be involved in a battle that had literally nothing to do with us but the army came with a bed to sleep in, food to eat, a paycheck, and some benefits after (if) you got out. All of those were things that Arvin desperately needed.

Basic training was a breeze. He’d been hardened by years of manual labor, both around his grandmother’s farm and doing construction around town. The other men had initially poked fun at him for his accent and his seemingly smaller stature compared to some of the 6’0”+ giants. That all stopped though the first time they saw him shed his shirt, revealing a rippling six pack of abs beneath taught skin and arms that had definitely seen more work than half of these bigger men.

After basic training, he found himself stationed at Fort Hamilton Army Base in Brooklyn, NY. The army life was pretty close to what he’d imagined: rigorous, demanding, exhausting. Shortly after “settling in” at Fort Hamilton (if you can call being there for two weeks “settling in”), he was deployed across seas to fight in the battle of Ia Drang Valley before returning shortly after.

It was a Saturday morning and Arvin found himself picking through his food like he did every morning. With a heavy sigh, he set down his meal pack.

“You alright?” Willard Kast, one of his friends that had survived Ia Drang with him, asked from across the table.

Arvin began to nod but it turned more into a head shake, “Ya ever just feel like everythin’s the same?”

Kast laughed, “Well, yeah,” He said as if it was obvious, “They don’t exactly have us here to have fun.”

“Yeah, but I… I don’t know. Guess I just sorta feel like my life is going on around me but I’m not goin’ with it.” Arvin was never known to be the person who actually spoke about his feelings. For some reason though, this war had just brought out a sudden mortality crisis of sorts. Every time he thought back to those memories of everyone he’d lost, whether it be his mother, father, dog, sister, or war buddies, the dead, blank eyes that stared back at him only seemed to be ghosts of lives still unlived. He didn’t want to be haunted by those same spirits.

Kast smacked Arvin’s arm and beckoned for him to stand up, “Alright, you, up. Now. You’re getting off base today.”

“I don’t even know where I’d go if I left.” Arvin huffed, standing up.

“That’s the fun of it. Just go! Get out of this God forsaken place. See what you find.” Kast had always been oddly upbeat, especially compared to all the people Arvin had ever known growing up. Maybe it was the fact that anything Arvin had ever done felt like an accumulation of negativity so that it felt like there was no “fun in it” as Kast would put it. His friend noticed his hesitation before adding, “You do know what fun is, right?”

Arvin chuckled a little bit, “Honestly, I don’t know if I do.”

Within the hour, Arvin found himself dressed in civilian clothes for the first time in a while, a plain white t-shirt with blue jeans and some old, beat-up, black converse with his denim jacket slung over his shoulders. It was getting into autumn now and, though the sun still shone, there was a chill in the breeze.

Once he stepped off base, he started on his aimless wandering down the streets. Arvin looked up in awe at the tenements and office buildings, sometimes built over restaurants or drug stores. Even though he'd been stationed in Brooklyn for a little while now, he'd never actually taken the time to explore the city. This small town boy was almost overwhelmed.

Horns of vehicles beeped occasionally and trains roared overhead on raised tracks. On many streets, kids played with balls or some version of baseball with a busted off plank of wood instead of a real bat. Some others were running around just playing tag. A small smile upturned the corner of his lips as he watched them laugh out of the corner of his eye. He wished he'd had something like this growing up. Friends.

Off to his left, a drug store caught his eye and he dipped in to grab a pack of cigarettes. They didn’t have anything fancy, not that he needed anything that was. Just a pack of the most mediocre selection they had was what he’d left with, lighting one up as he continued his stroll down the street.

He kept his baseball cap down low, trying to blend in with the rest of the passerby. Arvin had never been one for calling attention to himself. Even in a new place, like Brooklyn, he figured passing through unnoticed would be the best way to go.

“Mother fu- Just work!”

Arvin hadn’t had his curiosity piqued by much on this stroll through the city but the disgruntled groans of a girl definitely drew his attention. He slowed his walk just slightly and looked around for the root of the complaints. There was a group of kids playing jacks to his right on the steps leading into a tenement but it was clear that they weren’t the angry woman in question.

Just ahead, to his left, a car was pulled off to the side of the street and you popped up from the front right side of your car, an annoyed look on your face. You pressed against the car and leaned back, stretching your back out for a moment, before kicking what he assumed to be the tire with a frustrated outcry.

“Okay, okay…” You breathed, trying to calm down, an almost hysterically frustrated smile on your face, like when you’re so mad that you have no choice but to laugh because, if you don’t, you’re going to punch a wall. Again, you disappeared, crouching back down. Arvin couldn’t see what you were doing but judging by the dragging of metal, he assumed you were trying to fix a tire.

Arvin approached the back of your car to see you knelt down, the knees of your flare jeans rubbed black from the pavement. You were leaning with all your might onto a bar that curved and hooked onto the bolts on your very flat tire. However, he was impressed to see the jack placed properly and already up in the right position- not that it was a woman thing…. He’d just seen plenty of idiots place the jack in the wrong place.

“Sorry to bother but you look like you could use a hand.” Arvin offered politely, stepping closer.

You turned to look at him with a start, not expecting anyone to speak. Arvin couldn’t help the small smile that crept on his face when he noticed the smear of grease across your cheek. Hair stuck up astray in a few places from you brushing it back and out of your face.

It had always been a goal of yours to not need a man. You’d seen plenty of women in your life dependent on their husbands, daddies, and brothers to do everything for them and then seen them lose everything when they realized all they could do was cook and clean. Not to discredit cooking and cleaning as valuable life skills, because they absolutely were, but you were not going to be some damsel in distress whenever you needed an oil change or got a flat tire.

But, as much as you hated to admit it, these bolts were giving you a run for your money. After having been at this for nearly twenty minutes to no avail, you sighed in defeat, “I mean, if you wouldn’t mind giving it a try, that would be real nice. I’ve been working at it for nearly twenty minutes and nothing.”

“Here,” Arvin reached his hand out for the pull bar and you stepped aside to allow him room. He notched the socket over the bolt and pushed, trying to crack the bolt. You definitely weren’t exaggerating. Whoever put this on had done a number tightening it. Arvin tried again, leaning into the bar. The denim of his jacket tightened around his flexing muscles as he did so until, finally, it cracked loose and the bolt gave way, twisting.

With a wipe of your hand across your face, you sighed. It took all your might to (unsuccessfully) not imagine the way this man’s muscles must have been bulging beneath his jacket as he cranked the bar.

Once it cracked loose, it was easy work to get the bolt off. By the time Arvin had arrived, you’d already managed to get all but two bolts off so he continued to work on the last one without you asking.

“Oh- I can get that!” You interjected, leaning down to go to grab the bar back.

Arvin stood up and shook his head, “No, no, it’s no problem. I’m glad to help.”

When he returned to turning the bolts, you took a step back, brow cocked and arms crossed, “You’re not from around here, are you?”

The bolt clanged to the ground with a metal clink and Arvin knelt down to shimmy the tire off, “Is it that obvious?” He chuckled, looking up at you as he rolled it to the side. You’d already had the spare ready to go right beside the old one and he grabbed it, wiggling it into place.

You chuckled, “People don’t really go out of their way to help strangers here. And I like the accent. It’s cute. You from Tennessee or something?”

Arvin froze up. Should he tell you? What were the chances of you knowing anything relating to the issues of his past? “Ohio.”

“I didn’t know you guys had accents back there.” You leaned against the side of the car, watching him work on the tire for you.

He tightened up the bolts all within the tire, “Depends on where you live, I guess.” Arvin pressed himself up, wiping his hands on his jeans as he did, “There ya go. You should be all set.”

You stood up straight and ran your hands on your striped brown, black, and white turtleneck, your face contorting in annoyance when you realized you smeared grease on your favorite sweater. Arvin smirked a little when he noticed the action.

You were pretty cute. Arvin felt a little confused. Girls back in Coal Creek had never really caught his eye. They were all so similar, just slight variations of each other. There were the hyper-religious good girls but they all reminded him too much of his sister. Either that or they were the girls who hung out with boys like Gene Dinwoodie and that was just a whole crowd that Arvin had no intention of associated with.

“You really didn’t have to do all that… but thank you for the help.” Your hands rubbed together, the faint black debris marking your fingers. “I have a few bucks. Let me buy you a coffee or something as a thank you?”

“Oh, no, you don’t have to do that.” Arvin readjusted his hat on his head.

“Please, I insist. You just changed my tire.” You pressed, tucking your hand into your back pocket and crossing your ankles as you leaned against the car. Arvin stood a little closer to you, still a polite distance away, but there was a way he looked down at you that just made butterflies go through your stomach.

Maybe this was what Kast meant. Maybe this was some of that life he should be living, that adventure he should be having. “Alright. But I don’t really know where anything is around here so….”

“Don’t worry, I got you.” You smiled, “I know a place a few blocks away if you’re up for it? They have some pretty good pie too. Oh, and I’m Y/N by the way.”

Nerves bubbled in Arvin’s stomach but something made him nod his head, almost against his will, “Arvin,” He nodded a small greeting, “And, yeah, that sounds nice.”

With a smile, you tapped on the hood of your car and nodded your head over to the passenger side, “It’s not too far but it’s kind of cold. I’d rather drive personally but we can walk if you’re more comfortable with that.”

The offer took Arvin back to his time hitchhiking his way out of Coal Creek and Knockemstiff. There had been a few bad experiences with handsy truckers and women who’d picked him up but they didn’t erase the memory of his first pick-up with Carl and Sandy. We all know how that ended…

But he’d made it out of all of those situations, even if just barely, and he honestly didn’t feel uneasy around you. There was an endearing, hardworking, down-to-earth yet friendly energy you gave off that managed to put Arvin at ease. Before he knew it, he was sitting in the front seat of your car as you sped off down the road.

The day had passed quickly with you and before Arvin knew it, it was already almost sunset. Coffee and pie had turned into a two hour long stay with the two of you talking about life which had in turn turned into a stroll through the city.

He’d told you about how he had some family issues growing up and left his hometown to join the army. Your exact response was, “I’d say thank you for your service but I don’t exactly support the war if I’m being honest.”

Arvin sipped his coffee and raised his eyebrows exasperatedly, “Neither do I.”

You told him about how you had been born and raised in Brooklyn, working at a local record shop to save up for a place of your own. You told him all about your career goals and how you wanted to find somewhere you felt like you really belonged. Brooklyn was your home, it always would be, but you felt like there was something else out there for you.

Talking to you was easy- easier than anyone since Arvin’s mother. He couldn’t explain it but the quiet, secretive boy found himself at ease with you, not only willing to but wanting to open up to you. Maybe it was the adorable way you made it a point to smell your coffee before you drank it, taking in the comforting, rich scent, or maybe it was residue of grease still on your shirt. Arvin couldn’t quite pinpoint it, but he was attracted to you in a way he hadn’t been attracted to anyone in his entire life.

“Hey,” You perked up, “You said you’ve never really left base, right?”

Arvin nodded, self-conscious about his lack of adventurous spirit, as Kast would put it, “Unfortunately.”

“You need to do all the stupid tourist things in New York.” You hit the countertop excitedly, as if the grandest idea anyone had ever had had occurred o you.

Arvin’s face scrunched up and he shook his head, looking away, “Nah, that ain’t really my thing.”

“C’mon,” You pressed, holding onto his forearm enthusiastically, “I’m not saying you gotta go stand around and get mugged in Time Square or anything but I think you should experience the city while you’re out here!”

Sightseeing had never interested Arvin. Hell, he never really even thought he’d make it out of Coal Creek, if he was being honest with himself. Even if he did, he just expected to end up in some other shit hole town that was the same with different people. He never really put much thought into what he wanted to do. His mind had just been so consumed with what he needed to do.

Arvin swivelled in his chair to face you, “Well what would you suggest that a newcomer go see here?”

It didn’t take you long at all to think up an idea, “Can you stay out till sunset?”

_____

Manhattan was definitely a different feel from Brooklyn. Arvin felt almost anxious here with all the cars and people and whatnot. He thought the army base was crowded but that was nothing compared to the bustle of the heart of New York City. Skyscrapers dwarfed neighboring buildings, casting shadows that somehow made Arvin feel miniscule in comparison.

“Here we are!” You exclaimed excitedly, disappearing through the revolving door of a classy looking building. Arvin followed you inside, meeting with you in the large main room. There was a window with a man behind it that you approached, “Two tickets to the top please.” You dug into your small white purse and pulled out a few bills and handed them to the man in exchange for tickets.

“Wait, what’re you buyin’?” Arvin stepped over to you, about to interject the transaction. The last thing he wanted was you spending more money on him.

“Tickets.” You said as if it were obvious.

“To what?” He asked, confused.

You turned around, two tickets in hand, with a smile, “Do you not know where we are yet?” Arvin slowly shook his head, wondering why he was supposed to. “We’re at the Empire State Building!”

Arvin had heard of the building, even seen pictures of it in a history book one time, but he really didn’t know much about it. Big cities had never been his interest but seeing the way your eyes lit up with excitement to show him made all reservations melt.

The elevator ride up was nerve wracking to say the least. It wasn’t severe but Arvin had developed minor PTSD from the war. He’d seen many men get killed or trapped, dragged away and unable to escape. This metal death box traveling up hundreds of stories made him feel trapped. He hadn’t noticed that he started rocking back and forth on his heels, gripping his own biceps, until you put a gentle hand on his arm, “You okay?”

With a shaky breath, Arvin nodded and put on a smile, “Yeah. Elevators just make me kinda nervous.”

The elevator stopped at one level but you dragged him up several flights of stairs to get to the very top where you could stand on the balcony.

It was fairly busy but not unenjoyably so. “Okay, come over here!” Yet again, Arvin found himself being led by you to the very edge, leaning on the high railing. “What do you think?”

It was breathtaking, beyond anything Arvin had ever seen. The sun was now setting, casting a warm orange-pink hugh on the city. The buildings and streets were illuminated with tiny lights, creating a sea of little flickering stars. In the far distance, the ocean stretched on for miles. Even the sky was beginning to try and match the city, though the few stars that were beginning to peek through the sunset were nearly drowned out by the light of the city.

“It’s amazin’.” Arvin sighed out, almost overwhelmed. So this was the world outside of Coal Creek?

“Isn’t it something?” Arvin glanced down to see you looking down at the city with such adoration. A warm, orange glow cast across your face, accenting every beautiful feature. But then you turned to face him and he nearly stopped breathing. He knew from the first moment he met you that you were an attractive woman but you looked absolutely radiant now.

Tension began to rise when you realized how close you were to the man. Your hips were almost touching as you stood side by side. Your hands were mere centimeters apart on the safety railing.

Arvin could have gotten lost in your eyes but you tore your gaze away, returning it to the city. Instead, you slowly inched your hand towards his until your fingers touched his, testing the waters. He tensed up, looking down to see your fingers nudging his. He glanced back over at you to see your eyes flick questioningly to his.

Arvin closed the gap between you, intertwining his fingers with yours. Your heart fluttered out of your chest when you felt him pull you ever so slightly closer to him. Your head rested on his shoulder and your free hand came up to grab his arm.

“Y’know, if changing strangers’ tires is gonna turn out like this, I’m gonna have to start doin’ it more often.” He teased but his voice sounded sincere. Of all the possibilities that today had, this was not one that he had imagined when he left base this morning. Holding onto a beautiful girl at the top of the Empire State Building seemed like something out of a movie, not something that happened to real people.

The sun fully set and the stars came out, rivaling the city lights in a display of firework-like sparkles. The full moon acted almost as a spot light in the dark sky, drawing your attention. Arvin had no idea how long the two of you had been standing there but he felt like he could stand there for forever.

Eventually, you shifted against his side and your voice popped up, soft and quiet, “Hey, Arvin?”

“Hm?”

“Maybe we can see each other again?” You twisted in his grasp, which had now traveled to be around your shoulders. Now you looked straight up at him, faces only a small distance apart.

The corners of Arvin’s lips turned up, “I’d like that.”

Your arms were wrapped around his torso and his arms were encasing your body, resting on your upper back. Arvin’s eyes flicked from your lips to your eyes and back down again, as if asking for permission before going in. Both of you slowly inched towards each other before your lips touched in the middle. His lips were surprisingly soft and gentle against yours in the sweet, slow kiss.

When you pulled away, neither of you opened your eyes for a few moments, just resting your foreheads against each other. “Call me a fool for falling for a girl I just met but I think I like you.” Arvin admitted with a satisfied smile, pulling you closer to him.

#Arvin Russell #arvin russel imagines #arvin russel x reader #tdatt #The Devil All The Time #tom holland #tom holland one shot #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #Manhattan Sunset

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f0rever15elf · 4 years

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They Were Roommates: Part 3 - The Dog

Part 3 of They Were Roommates: Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 (Coming soon) Pairing: Modern!Pero Tovar x f!reader Rating: NC-17 Word count: 5,524 Warnings: Smut (again, not sorry), oral (m receiving), vaginal sex, dry humping, teasing, soft!pero, blood mention, food mention, swearing, no beta

Summary: Pero wants a dog, and this leads to several big decisions.

A/N: @whiskeyslasso once again coming in clutch with the inspo! Also, this chapter puts this whole story at just over 21,000 words in three chapters. I am astounded.

Masterlist | Ao3

You have no idea how you had let Pero convince you to go to the shelter, you really don’t. Yet, here the two of your are, hand in hand, waiting for your turn to play with the dogs who were up for adoption.

“Pero,” you sigh, looking up at him.

“Mmm.”

“We really don’t have room for a dog right now. The apartment is too small, and a dog deserves a yard to be able to run around and play in. I’d feel so bad keeping it inside all day.” A pout pulls at the corner of your lips as Pero pulls you closer to his side, a heat flushes your cheeks. This still not something that you’re use to. When the staff member waves the two of you back, Pero all but yanks you forward as he nearly sprints into the back. You can’t remember a time ever seeing him more excited.

“We have dogs of all ages available for adoption today, mainly mutts where we have only been able to guess at pedigree.” The poor girl leading you around is nearly drowned out by the overwhelming amount of barking.

“That does not matter,” Pero speaks up quickly, and you smile.

“Fantastic. I can’t tell you how many people we had come in looking for pure breeds.” She shakes her head, opening the gate to the play pin. You can’t help the sound that comes from you, somewhere between a coo and a whine as you collapse to the ground to be attacked by the dogs. You love the furry beasts, you really do, but you just…don’t know about having one right now. Pero kneels beside you, petting the animals as they venture towards you both, the frown lines on his face lessening ever so slightly. You take pause when you hear a sonorous boof! looking up just in time to be waylaid by an absolutely massive dog, the furry beast sending you sprawling flat on your back as it attacks your face with excited licks. Pero is terrified for a moment that you’ve been hurt until he hears your laughter as you try to sit back up. He helps to ease the dog off of you, distracting it as he showers it in attention and scritches.

“This dog is magnificent,” he grumbles, scratching behind her ears and you nod before grabbing his sleeve to wipe off your face. The look of disgust and disbelief has you near bursting at the seams when you look back up at him. “That was disgusting, bella.” You grin at him before moving to pet the dog yourself. Overwhelmed with the attention, she flops against Pero nearly knocking him down to show her belly which you happily rub.

“Ah, yes, this one is a really sweet. She doesn’t have a name yet, came to us earlier today, actually. An anonymous drop on our front patio, kennel and everything. We think it was a case of she got bigger than the owner was expecting.” The staff member hovers over your shoulder, smiling. “She’s mostly Newfoundland, not sure if she’s a pure breed though. Clocks in about about 120 pounds, the heavier end of Newfie females.”

“She is perfect.” Hearing his comment, you open your mouth to protest as you look over to Pero, but the look in his eyes has you melting on the spot. “Isn’t she, hermosa? Strong and beautiful. Like you.” Heat rushes to your cheeks as the shelter staff member bubbles about how adorable the two of you are. “Please, hermosa?” Your will falters under the gaze of your new boyfriend, but it’s when you look at the dog that you truly cave. The pup is staring up at you with eyes that match Pero’s, such a soft brown. She looks so happy as he lavishes her with attention, her tail wagging non-stop.

“O…Okay, Pero…we can take her home.” He reaches out for your hand, giving it a squeeze before refocusing his attention on the dog. The staffer hands you the adoption paperwork for you to begin filling out.

Where the hell were you going to be able to keep this massive creature?

~~~

“This might have been a mistake,” you sigh, dropping your face into your hand as the new companion wanders around the small house, taking in the smells. “It’s like we adopted a small horse…”

“Hermosa,” Pero comes up to you after having set out the food and water at the end of the kitchen for the furry behemoth prowling your home. “We must name her, eh? Something fitting of a beauty like her.” His hands make their way around your waist, pulling you to him as you bring your hands to rest on his chest. The skin between his eyebrows creases in serious thought. “Perhaps Esmeralda?”

“You mean like from the Hunchback of Notre Dame?”

“From what?” He asked, starring down at you puzzled.

“What do you mean ‘From what?’ Have you never seen that movie?” He shakes his head and you gasp, feigning offense. “That cannot be allowed. We’ll watch it with dinner one of these nights.” He just nods, clearly still confused. “As for the name…I like it, so long as I can call her Essy.”

“No, her name is Esmeralda, not Essy.”

“But Essy sounds so cute!” He grumbles for a moment about how it diminishes the name until you get tired of it, reaching up to pull his lips to your own, silencing the grump. His grip around your waist pulls you a bit more tightly to him causing you to smile into the kiss. When you pull away, you reach up and tap his nose, giggling at the way his face scrunches in mild distaste when you do.

“Fine…you can call her Essy,” he grumbles, resting his forehead against yours.

“Gracias, gruñón.” His hand moves to smack your ass lightly and you squeak, pressing up against him as a low chuckle reverberates in his chest.

“You could call me so many other things, yet still it is gruñón you choose.”

“What, should I call you mí novio? Guapo?” You get up on your tip toes as you pull his head down so his ear is level with your lips, whispering. “Papí?” You swear you hear the wire snap holding Pero’s self control together as he hoists you over his shoulder, heading to the bedroom with a sharp smack on your backside again. You squeal at the smack, face flushed hot. He kicks the door shut behind him, tossing you on the bed before crawling over you, crashing his lips against yours in a needy kiss as his arms cage you underneath him. Your arms wrap around his neck, grabbing fist-fulls of his soft hair in just the way he likes. Every time Pero kisses you, you find yourself getting lost in all of it. The taste of him, the feel of his lips, the sound of his sighs and grunts as he grinds against you…it always borders on too much in the most pleasurable of ways.

Surprising him, you shift your weight to knock one of his arms out from underneath him, wrapping your leg around his hip to use your weight to roll the both of you over. You sit there straddling his hips, smirking down at him. The surprise on his face lasts only the briefest of moments before his eyes darken, hands landing firmly on your hips to drag you against his crotch. You let out a soft, needy moan, leaning down to kiss him…until you hear a whimper from outside the door and you freeze. Your eyes lock with Pero’s for a moment, and you consider just leaving the dog out there and continuing your fun until you remember that you’re a renter, and you have absolutely no desire to have the dog damage anything.

“Sorry, Pero. We may need to wait until the baby is asleep.” You grin, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before removing his hands and hopping off of him. Pero grumbles something too fast, too low, and too in Spanish for you to catch, probably something about being cock blocked by a dog, before he gets up to follow you. Slowly opening the door, you’re very nearly mowed over again by a very excited, very large dog. Your downstairs neighbors were going to hate you…

~~~

It had only been a week since the newest addition to your household had joined you, but in that week you could already tell she had Pero wrapped around her paws.

“No giant dogs on the couch,” you said, only to come home literally that same night from a late shift to see your man and his dog cuddling on the couch.

“No, she can’t sleep in the bed Pero,” you had told him as he borderline pouted at you. Well, as close to pouting as you have ever seen the man with the permanent scowl get. When you stepped out of the shower a bit sooner than he had expected, you saw Pero shoo the dog from the bed as he attempted to play innocent.

But for all of the rule breaking and spoiling, Pero takes very good care of the dog. The first thing he does when he gets home after kissing you is take the dog for a walk while you cook, and it shocks you a bit just how easy it is for you to settle in to this routine. Less than four months with your grumpy Spanish man, and you are already finding it difficult to not call yourselves a family.

Pero is out on one of those walks with Esmeralda at this very moment as you slice up onions for the stir fry. Your mind wanders a bit too far from the task at hand, lost in thought about what the future could hold for you both, until you hiss as the blade catches your thumb, the knife in your hand clattering to the ground.

“Shit! Fuck!” you scream, clenching your teeth as you run to the sink, trying to avoid getting blood absolutely everywhere from the deep gash in your thumb. Your ears ring at the sight of the blood running down the drain as you try to remember to breathe. You had never been able to stand the sight of blood, especially not your own. The sound of the front door and large paws on the wood floors is a welcome relief as your knuckles turn white from the harsh grip on the sink.

“Hermosa, we’re back,” Pero calls from the front door as he removes his shoes.

“P-Pero…” you groan, hardly audible over the sound of the running water in the sink. The shaking in your knees finally becomes too much and you hit the ground, the world spinning around you as your ears ring. Pero calls your name and you’re vaguely aware of his footsteps as he runs to the kitchen. A string of profanity slips from his lips as he grabs a towel, wrapping it around your hand as he cradles your body against his. “B-blood,” you try to explain, praying the contents of your stomach decide to stay where they should.

“Shhhh, cariño, I’m here. It’s alright, it is just a small cut. I will take care of it, and of you.” Once your breathing has evened out, Pero stands, helping you up as you cradle your hand to your chest. Your thumb was starting to throb and you bite back tears because of it. He ushers you to the bathroom, scowl firmly in place. To anyone else, he would appear irritated at you, but you could see the concern that was present in his gaze. He sits you on the toilet seat before rummaging in the medicine cabinet for the alcohol and bandages. “Don’t look.” Calloused fingers gently turn your head away before he takes off the towel, quickly pouring a bit of alcohol on the wound. You whimper and try to pull your hand away out of reflex as it stings, but his strong grip around your wrist keeps you firmly in place as he blows on the cut, the cool air soothing a bit of the sting. Once it’s dry, he wraps a bandage around it, making sure the cut is pressed firmly together. He brings your bandaged hand to his lips, kissing it gently before kissing each of your knuckles, gazing back up at you. Tears shine in your eyes partially from the throbbing of your thumb, and partially from the embarrassment of what just happened.

“Are you alright, belleza?” The concern lacing his voice causes you to sniffle as you try desperately to fight back the tears, nodding.

“I was daydreaming and the knife slipped… I really hate blood Pero.” Your bottom lip trembles and he brings his hand to gently cup your cheek. Leaning into the touch, your eyes slip closed for a moment, the pad of his thumb running along your cheekbone to soothe you. When you open your eyes again, he is watching you with that same intense stare, like he’s working to memorize every single line of your face. As if at any moment you would slip away from him.

“I will clean the kitchen and finish dinner. You rest with the dog in the living room, alright?” All you can do is nod, the tenderness in his gruff voice so soothing you just want to melt into it. The corner of his lip quirks in a small smile before he leans forward to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. He helps you to your feet, holding you steady as you slowly make your way to the living room. Essy is already on the couch, and she lets out a whine as Pero helps you over, easing you down. You immediately cuddle up to the fluffy beast, nuzzling your face into her fur. Ok…yeah, the puppy can be on the couch, you decide. Pero pets your hair gently, whispering comforting words of affection before heading to the kitchen.

When the stir fry is done, Pero brings a small serving to you, taking his place on the very little remaining space left on the couch. You pull your feet up to offer him more room, but he just grunts, moving your legs so they rest in his lap. “Eat, hermosa. You’ll feel better.” He was right, you know he was, so with a sigh you sit up, grabbing the plate.

“It smells good, Pero. Thank you for finishing everything.” He nods, grabbing the remote to flip on the TV, not making a big deal out of anything.

“What was this movie you demanded I watch when we named Esmeralda?” His eyes flick to you then back to the TV.

“Oh, right! It’s called The Hunchback of Notre Dame. Here.” You hold out your hand for the remote and he obliges, grabbing his fork to begin scarfing down his food. You are convinced this man would never be able to eat normally. “It’s one of my favorites,” you mumble as you flip through the movies you have, settling into the sofa when you find it. The sound of the opening music always made you smile, and this time is no different. Pero sits quietly after scarfing down his food, a hand resting on your shin to rub soothing circles absentmindedly with his thumb.

As the credits roll, you look up to him expectantly. The grumpy scowl is still on his face as he turns to look at you. “Well?” you ask, curious to know what he thinks.

“The music is good. I see why you like this film.” He reaches to take your bandaged hand, leaning over to kiss it again, succeeding in making your heart flutter. “Bella, where did your mind wander to for you to hurt yourself like this?” His voice is still gruff, but softer now, concerned. “You are always so careful in the kitchen. What happened?”

You swallow thickly then clear your throat, trying to focus on the feeling of your hand in his. The two of you had been together for so short of a time, would this scare him off? Shaking your head, you decide to bite the proverbial bullet. “I was thinking about us,” you whisper, your gaze falling on your connected hands. When he says nothing, you continue. “I was thinking about moving. The dog needs a yard, a bigger home to play in. Pero, she’s over 100 pounds…we can’t keep her if we are going to stay here, my landlord will kill me. That is, if my downstairs neighbors don’t first.” You look up, the worry plain as day on your face. As always, his face is grumpy and unreadable. His thumb has stilled on your hand, causing your chest to tighten with anxiety. The silence in the living room is stifling, you just need him to say something, anything. Even if it is a no, that’s better than this insufferable silence.

“You want to find…a home together?” His voice is soft, layered with surprise and a look up to his face kicks your heart into a sprint. You’re sure he can hear it with how loud the beat sounds in your own ears. His face has softened as he watches you, the lines smoothing in the way you usually only see when he sleeps.

“I know we haven’t been together long, and that this is a big step, and that it’s asking a lot, and that you may not be ready, and-” Your ramblings are cut off by Pero pressing a sweet yet firm kiss to your lips. When he pulls back, the corner of his lips pulls up is a small smile.

“Belleza…hermosa…la luz de mí vida. Cálmate. I think you are right.” His thumb resumes its gentle circles against the back of your hand as your mouth falls open in surprise.

“Y-you mean it?”

“Of course. Esmeralda needs a yard, as you say. And I think it will be good for us to have a home together. I want a home with you.” He squeezes your hand again, his face drawn and serious. For a moment, you don’t move, processing what he has said. When all the gears finally click into place, you scramble to shift around throwing your arms around his neck with a borderline reckless abandon, hiding your face against his neck. His hands rest in the small of your back, holding you against him. You try to find the words to tell him just how you feel, but they fail you, so you elect to just hold yourself closer to him, breathing him in in the silence. You feel him rest his head against yours as he heaves out a content sounding sigh, leaning back against the arm of the sofa as he holds you to his chest. You would be happy to stay like this forever.

Pero’s hands trace lines up and down your back before fiddling with the hem of your shirt, slowly sliding up underneath it to drag his fingers across your skin. You shiver against him at the touch, pressing a gentle kiss above his pulse point. You feel the vibration of the growl in his chest more than you hear it, and it draws a smile to your lips. Leaning back, you brush his bangs from his forehead, excitement coursing through you at the sight of his eyes darkened with need, eye as intense as ever.

“You know,” you purr, resting your hand on his jaw, the stubble tickling your palm. “The furry one is asleep so,” you lean forward, nibbling at his ear, “we can go pick up where we left off earlier.” The words barely have time to leave your lips before Pero is standing, your arms around his neck and legs around his waist as he carries you to the bedroom. Your giggle in his ear sends a shiver down his spine. God how he loves that sound.

Rather than tossing you on the bed like he normally does, this time he takes a seat, your legs still around his waist. He brings a hand to your cheek, guiding your lips to his in a desperate, tender kiss. You bring your hands to cradle his face gently, eyes closed as you drink him in, lost in the feeling of his lips on yours, moving in time with yours as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

You rock your hips ever so slightly against him, swallowing the soft moans the action pulls from him before leaning back, looking up at him with the softest gaze you can manage. His hands rest on your hips, gently massaging them as he lets you set the pace, not wanting to rush you tonight. “You know,” you whisper as soft as you can manage, not wanting to shatter this moment with words far too loud. “If someone had told me that this would be my life four months ago, I would have laughed at them.” Pero smirks and nods, pulling your hips more firmly against his own, earning him a satisfied hum.

“Had you not shown up that morning, I was going to leave this city.”

“Then thank God I happened to bump into you. Literally.” The coy smile on your face paired with the sultry slur of your voice fans the flame of desire inside Pero, and his hips buck against your, earning a delicious gasp from your lips as it pulls a low groan from his throat. Your hands brace on his shoulders as you rock yourself against him, whimpering with need. “L-lay back,” you nearly moan and he does as instructed, staring up at you with those dark eyes you adore so much. The way he watches you every time makes you feel like the most beautiful woman on the earth and sends your confidence soaring without fail. “I want to make you feel good tonight.”

“Hermosa, you always make me feel good,” Pero mumbles, watching as you tug your shirt off over your head, eyes falling immediately on you chest. Your skin flushes hot as you smirk, running your hands up his stomach to his chest, leaning in to kiss him quickly. His mouth follows yours as you lean back again, hands traveling down to his pants to quickly undo the button on his jeans that are rapidly becoming too tight for his liking. You swing your legs off of him, tugging his pants down right along with his boxers, discarding them on the floor.

“Scoot up on to the bed.” The borderline commanding sound in your voice causes Pero’s cock to twitch, bringing a smirk to your lips as he does as instructed. Tugging off your own pants and panties rather gracelessly, Pero makes use of the moment to rid himself of his own shirt before you’re crawling back over him like some tigress stalking her prey. He has never seen such a confident hunger in your eyes before and he can’t even begin to describe the way that look is affecting him. You crash your lips against his, wasting no time in nibbling at his bottom lip. He gladly parts his lips for you, your tongues dancing fervently as you revel in the taste that is so entirely and uniquely him. You drag your nails down his chest causing him to shiver against you, his hands snapping to your hips.

“Easy, tiger,” you whisper against his lips before beginning to kiss your way down his jaw, occasionally leaving gentle nips as you trail down his neck, over his chest. Your teeth graze against his nipples at which Pero draws in a sharp breath, his hand reaching up to grip your hair. Smirking against his skin, you continue on your path downwards, kissing down his stomach which tightens under your touch. You follow the path of soft hairs below his navel down to the curls at the base of his cock, your chin brushing against him. Your eyes flash up to his as you grin, neglecting his cock in favor of kissing along the inside of his thighs, nibbling gently at the skin in a manner not unlike the way he first teased you when he had his head between your legs. Pero’s legs tremble under your touch, his hips bucking ever so slightly as the neediest moan you have ever heard from him escapes his lips, followed by a frustrated growl.

With a grin, you finally take the tip of his cock into your mouth, moaning softly at the taste of him. The hand in your hair tightens for a moment before relaxing, trying to remember to be gentle with you as your mouth renders him unable to form a coherent thought. Achingly slowly, you begin to bob your head along his length, hollowing out your cheeks as you do. With every movement, you draw another beautiful sound from your Spaniard; a moan, a grunt, a hiss…and it all sounds like music in that deliciously deep voice of his. You need more. Taking a deep breath, you lower your head, taking him as deep as you can till your nose nestles in the curls at the base his cock. Pero lets out a choked sounding moan, eyes snapping down to you, wide with surprise. He tugs at your hair, trying to ease you off of him as he feels his release rapidly coming on.

“C-Cielo, fuck, I-I’m gonna…” You resist the tugging on your hair, looking up at him with hooded eyes as you reach up to cup his balls. The look in your eyes as you play with him is enough to finally send him toppling over that edge, a string of profanities, both English and Spanish, pouring from those beautiful lips of his. His hand in your hair tightens its grip as he goes rigid underneath you as he fills your mouth. When he finishes, you slowly let him out of your mouth as he watches you with a look of disbelief and desire. That coy smile still on your face, you swallow, opening your mouth to show him.

“Dios…” His low and husky voice sends a shiver through your body as he sits up, the hand in your hair pulling you to him for a rough, sloppy kiss. He groans at the taste of him on your lips, grabbing your bottom lip between his teeth, pulling back until the tender flesh slips from between his teeth. “Mí princessa perfecta…” His voice drips with arousal and desire, low and gruff in his chest.

“Let me ride you, Pero.” The confidence and desire in your voice surprises even you, but you know it has the desired effect when you feel him twitch against your thigh, already getting hard for you again.

“You will be the death of me, mí cielo…” He smirks at you as he lays back, hands resting on your hips. You lean down to kiss him again, unable to get enough of the taste of his lips or the feel of his skin against yours. His fingers dig into the skin of your hips as he works himself back up. You reach down to ghost your fingers over him and he jumps in your hand, bringing a smirk to your lips. Quickly reaching for a condom in your nightstand, you sit back to tear it open with you teeth. Pero’s eyes ravage your body, a flush across his cheeks and chest as he waits for you. Deciding you are taking too long, he runs a hand across the front of your hip and over your mound to press his thumb against your clit, rubbing quick circles against you.

“F-Fuck,” you hiss, a tremble running through your body as you lean forward, bracing yourself against Pero’s chest. When your eyes find his face, he’s smirking at you with a look that you are sure you had been wearing only moments before; confident and self assured. With a shaky hand, you grab his wrist, grinding against him a few times before pulling his hand away. You grasp his cock, quickly rolling the condom on to him as his hand grabs your hip again. The low hum that you pull from him as you do sends a warm tingle straight to your absolutely dripping core and you raise yourself up on your knees, shifting forward just enough to slowly lower yourself down on to him. Your head falls back as you breathe out a moan when your hips meet his, fully seating him inside of you. Pero’s nails dig into your hips as he fights to hold on to his self control and not flip you over to pound you into the mattress.

Bracing your hands on his chest, you raise your hips ever so slowly before sliding back down. Your eyes find Pero’s, just as delirious and drunk on pleasure as your own. You let out a heady sounding moan at the sight of that handsome, grumpy face creased in the pleasure that you provide him, quickly speeding up your pace, the sound of skin slapping skin as you bounce on him made all the more lewd as your arousal drips from you, coating his thighs. The moans and whimpers of pleasure tumble from your lips in a near constant stream, only to be punctuated by a near scream as Pero works to meet your thrusts, hips lifting up against you as you slide down against him. You slump forward, overwhelmed in pleasure and he wraps his arms around you, holding you tightly to him as his hips snap up against you at a relentless pace.

“P-Pero, oh fuck, Pero!” You whimper against him, turning you head to bite at the skin of his shoulder, earning a hiss from him, his hips stuttering for the briefest of moments.

“I want – hng- I want you to cum for me, nenita. Please,” he growls in your ear, nipping at the earlobe as he slams up into you. You nails dig into the skin of his chest, leaving half-moon divots in the feverish flesh.

“S-Say my name,” you beg, desperate to hear it tumble from his lips. And when it does, your body tenses and you see stars as your orgasm washes over you. You clench down on Pero, ripping a guttural moan from his lips as he chants your name over and over again like a prayer. He slams into you only a few times more before his own orgasm seizes him in throes of pleasure, holding your hips tightly against his own. You whimper out his name at the feeling of him twitching inside of you, closing your eyes to press your forehead against his shoulder as you pant for air.

As the aftershocks of your orgasms abate, he lowers his hips slowly to the bed and you raise your face from his shoulder, smiling fondly down at him. A sheen of sweat covers his near glowing skin, his lips parted slightly as he tries to regain his own breath. His fingers have resumed the gentle lines along your back as he calms down, softening inside of you. You lean in to press a kiss to his left cheek, then the right, then his nose before finally his lips. One of his hands moves to cradle your head gently as your lips work against his at a lazy pace. Breaking the gentle kiss, you rest your forehead against his, a smile gracing your lips.

“You’re stunning, mí cielo,” he mutters, his hand resting on your cheek. You giggle softly, turning to kiss his palm.

“And you take such good care of me.” Your reply has the flush returning to his cheeks as he grumbles something about it being his job, only causing you to giggle more. You bite your lip as you lift your hips just enough for him to slip out of you, slide off of his chest to cuddle into his side. He takes care of cleaning himself up with the tissues you conveniently decided to start keeping on the nightstand before he pulls a blanket over the both of you, cradling you to him as he leaves a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“I can’t wait to make a home with you, mí cielo,” he murmurs against your hair, causing your heart to skip a beat. You press a gentle kiss to his chest and hum softly in acknowledgment.

“Regardless of where we end up, so long as I’m with you, I’m already home.” Pero’s arms tighten around you at your confession, your voice thick with pleasure and heavy with sleep. You hear his heart speed up in his chest, and you smile. He gives you a grunt in agreement, but the beat of his heart gives away his excitement. Slowly, your eyes slip closed as exhaustion overtakes you.

“Te amo…” The words are but a breath, and you aren’t even sure you actually heard them as you dance on the precipice of unconsciousness. You could ask him tomorrow, you think, as you slip into a comfortable, dreamless sleep.

~~~~~~~

Translations: Bella - Beautiful Hermosa -Gorgeous Gracias – Thank you gruñón - Grumpy mí novio – my boyfriend Guapo -Sexy papí – (Do I really need to translate this?) cariño - Darling Belleza Beauty la luz de mí vida. - the light of my life Cálmate – Calm down cielo – literally: “sky.” used to mean “heaven” Mí princessa perfecta – My perfect princess Nenita – Baby girl mí cielo – my heaven Te amo - I love you (used for lovers)

Tag list: Permanent: @ahopelessromanticwritersworld, @tangledlove27, @paintballkid711, @lose-eels Modern!Pero: @littleferal, @lilkermit14, @the-feckless-wonder, @whiskeyslasso, @yespolkadotkitty, @cryptkeepersoul, @lackofhonor

Tag lists are open! Requests are open!

#Pero tovar #pero tovar x reader #pero tovar x f!reader #modern!pero tovar #modern!pero tovar x reader #the great wall #pedro pascal #my fic #they were roommates

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robinofinashiro · 3 years

Text

“turn it up it’s your favorite song / dance, dance, dance to the distortion / turn it up keep on repeat / stumbling around like a wasted zombie / yeah we think we’re free / drink, this ones on me / we’re all chained to the rhythm

pairing: takami keigo (hawks) x fem! reader

request status: CLOSED

note: i start my semester this tuesday so like BIG SAD but I swear I’ll try and not fuck with my posting schedule or go IA for weeks at a time. i’ve also been having a lot of AoT reqs and as much as I love them, I get tired of writing for it all the times.

a few of the heroes were called in for some meeting regarding a hero incident that happened a few weeks back. you weren’t actively apart of the situation when it initially happened, however; they had called all younger pro heroes to a conference to go over some protocols and new rulings.

you hadn’t been a hero for long, working under a few smaller heroes until the Symbol of Peace caught onto you. you weren’t working under a huge agency at the time, so when All Might called for you to transfer agencies, detecting that you had more potential under him, you immediately moved.

it wasn’t an unknown secret that you were connected to him. although you weren’t exactly what many people thought when they thought of All Might having a ‘sidekick’ or intern, they could see it in your fighting style how much you learned from him.

the charisma, the change in personality, everything changed about how some thought of you. you were more willing to talk to the media, happily attended events for kids, and a smile never left your face. All Might was proud to see your change as he realized that you had finally grown into the hero he knew you would become.

you tapped at the notebook sitting in front of you, hoping that they called the meeting early. you hadn’t gotten enough sleep for the past few days, thinking that all of you were in trouble for the incident. every now and again, you would hear the winged hero laugh or crack a joke about something and it started to grow more and more annoying.

the downside of constantly working at All Might’s agency was that you hardly had any downtime. you weren’t exactly close to many heroes or even associated yourself with them considering AM’s agency limited the heroes they took in and at the moment, it was really just you and another older hero that worked in it.

“( your hero name ), you’re ranked in the top five, why don’t you give us a run down on how you approach the media in a kid friendly way?”

your eyes widened, not realizing that he was speaking to you directly. you took a gulp before looking at all the heroes, “well, I guess you just have to make sure you don’t overwhelm the media with something that’s over exaggerated and dramatic. when trying to speak to a younger audience, you have to be a bit soft spoken, smiling constantly, and assuring them that they’re not in any danger. I know as heroes, it’s hard to remain calm in a scary situation but reaching the kids and having them able to listen to you can even calm yourself down,” you explained, “keeping kids safe should always be a priority because they can set a precedent for heroes.”

the heroes stared at you, some in a deadpan way, others a bit mesmerized. they could sense the All Might vernacular coming out of you but to a specific hero, they could see the way you were nervous around your peers.

Hawks knew about you. it was hard not to hear of All Might’s current pride and joy. he saw your interviews when they came on the news but the one thing that stuck out to him was how you hardly ever came around other heroes when down time actually presented itself.

you were very private with your personal life, something that rivaled Edgeshot. your personal life wasn’t very out there and it wasn’t like you tried to hide it because you could have cared less but whenever you did have down time, you were usually at home asleep or catching up on something else.

finally, you sat down, staring down at your notebook again as you tried to wipe your hands on your uniform pants. seeing all those eyes on you made your hands get sweaty and clammy.

the meeting ended not long after your small lecture and although you didn’t have anything to do after this, you were rushing to get your things together and leave before anyone that wasn’t the media caught up with you. however, that wasn’t exactly what you got.

“hey! ( your name )!” you heard Hawks’ voice call out for you. you stared at ground, wondering what the hell he could want from you. you waited for him to catch up, “hey, you okay?” he asked, a smirk playing at his face.

your eyebrows fluttered in confusion, “yeah, why?” you whispered. Hawks shrugged, “just saw you getting nervous back there,” he mentioned.

you didn’t know how to respond but you slowly started to walk towards the entrance doors, hoping he would leave you before the media rushed everyone walking out.

“I got a bit nervous seeing everyone looking at me, that’s all.” “but you’re around the media all the time?” “Hawks, do you have anything to ask me? I’m just not used to being around people my age.”

he saw the slight anger rise in you but decided not say anything as you gave him one final look before walking out of the door and being rushed by camera’s and reporters. a smile instantly hit your face as reporters asked you questions about the conference and overall general questions about work.

Hawks knew that he could probably get an earful from you for what he was about to do but as he walked out of the doors, he went over to the cameras that you were talking too and gave them a huge smile as he put his arm around your shoulders.

“good afternoon everyone!” he said happily as he saw your face contort to confusion and slight fear, “Hawks! are you friends with her? maybe even more?” one of the reporters asked as Hawks gave them a hearty laugh and waved them off.

“nah, we’re just really great friends, isn’t that right?” he asked you. you remained wide eyed and silent, not knowing what to say, “we were just talking about going out for a friendly date and had to get confirmation from her,” he told them.

you finally snapped out of it, shaking your head, “I’m sorry, I gotta go! I’m due at my agency no later than three and I’ll be late if I don’t head out now,” you told the reporters before taking his arm off you and basically darting in another direction.

the reporters looked at Hawks as he quickly recovered and talked to them a bit before telling them goodbye. Hawks had no idea that you were going to get that flustered over the small prank, realizing that he might’ve gone a little too far with it as you were no where in sight anymore.

you got back to the agency, seeing a few of your coworkers looking at you were a smirk on their face. they instantly pointed to the TV’s, showing you the extremely failed interview you had with Hawks not even a few minutes ago.

“so did you say yes to that ‘friendly’ hangout?” one of them asked. you groaned, your head hitting the wall, “no, what do I look like hanging out with the number two hero? you know I don’t really make unannounced public appearances to begin with.”

your coworker laughed, seeing your nervous expression.

“come on, you’re like the hardest worker in this damn agency! you could take one weekend off and enjoy it for fucks sake.”

you shook your head no but before you could say anything, you saw All Might enter the agency. you instantly bowed as he waved you off.

“he’s right you know. ever since you transferred to this agency, you haven’t had a day off and it’s high time you take a weekend off for yourself. enjoy your youth while you still have it.”

“All Might, you know I’m a very in demand hero, I can’t just take off a week-,” All Might cut you off with a slap to the back of the neck, “trust me, we’ll be okay for a weekend. I know better than anyone how it is to run yourself into the ground. take this weekend off and relax.”

you knew it was best to not continue arguing with your boss and silently agreed before heading to your office to finish up some paperwork. you had no idea what you were even going to do for this weekend. all of your errands, aside from getting groceries, were done and you were sure that Hawks probably didn’t mean what he said earlier.

your clock out time hit and you huffed, telling all of your coworkers that you would see them again on Monday. they could tell you were reluctant on leaving them for so long but the break didn’t sound so bad to them considering you worked around the clock, 24/7 for them.

as you got to your car, you figured you might as well make your own dinner since you couldn’t even remember the last time you did that. the only thing stopping you was that you hadn’t brought a change of clothes so you were practically stuck wearing your uniform to the store.

the grocery store was a bit farther out of the city. when picking a home, you had decided to go out and choose something that wasn’t in the middle of town. you wanted some peace of mind when you got done working and choosing a home a few miles out was your perfect idea.

once you walked inside of the store, you were happy to see that it wasn’t exactly packed. a few people here and there but most of them just waved or asked for a quick photo before letting you get back to what you were doing.

“hi, I was wondering if you could point me in the direction of where I would find you dairy free options?” you asked one of the workers. she smiled, pointing over to the aisle a few sections down. you thanked her, walking over the aisle when you realized you had ran into the last person you expected, “ohoho, funny finding you here,” you heard the winged hero say.

you nodded, pointing to the soy milk, “yeah, All Might gave me the weekend off because of the ‘prank’ you decided to pull earlier today,” you murmured, grabbing the two cartons of milk.

he laughed, pushing his hair back before grabbing the basket that carried all of your groceries. you gave him a confused look, not really knowing what his intentions were.

“skip your dinner tonight and come out.”

you let out a laugh, not really caring who heard, “uh, no. I think I’ll pass,” you said trying to grab your basket back. he sighed, not letting it go, “I’ll give it back when you agree to come out with me,” you growled, your head hitting the cold cement wall.

“for what? what would I have to offer you if I came out with you?” “nothing! but like I told you earlier today, the fact that you can only talk to kids without getting nervous is kind of embarrassing.”

you stared at him confused and pissed off.

“you throwing insults at me isn’t helping your situation Hawks so you have about fifteen seconds to give me my shit back before we start fighting in this grocery store.”

Hawks put his hands up in defeat, sensing that you were actually being serious about kicking his ass.

“come on, just one night and if you absolutely hate it, you will never have to do it again. I already promised some people that you would come out tonight too.” your eyes widened at what he had said, “who the hell did you promise?” you practically screeched.

“Mirko and she might kills us if we’re late,” he murmured, “now?” you exclaimed as he put down your basket of groceries, leaving it on the floor before grabbing your wrist and running down the store.

you apologized to everyone that you accidentally hit on your way out, them instantly brushing you off thinking that maybe an incident happened and that’s why you both were running out of the store in a hurry. you grabbed your keys out of your bag and walked towards your car.

“just message me the directions to wherever the hell you’re dragging me too and i’ll meet you there.”

Hawks nodded, making you put your number in his phone as you walked to car slowly. you figured that if the plans Mirko had for the three of you was urgent, you figured that both Hawks and Mirko were planning on wearing their uniforms to the event.

Hawks had informed you that you were going to meet him in the fancier side of town, claiming that it was just a small dinner all of you were going too.

which was a complete lie.

once you arrived to the destination, you realized that this wasn’t a dinner event. this was a Hero Billboard JP after party event. you had heard of it from All Might considering he was invited but his agency hadn’t qualified to attend the event since his agency was purposely ran to not have many heroes in it.

the reason why you hadn’t been invited was because even though you were high on the JP ranking scale, you hadn’t had enough years in your belt to be considered for the awards they were giving out.

“Hawks, Mirko, I wasn’t invited to this,” you informed them, “I nor All Might’s agency qualified for this event so it would be wrong of me to attend the after party for it.”

Mirko looked at Hawks before she chuckled, “you weren’t invited but who said you weren’t someones date,” she said as you realized what she meant. you turned to Hawks who was laughing to himself, “you’re going to cause me premature grey hairs,” you stated.

you and Hawks walked behind Mirko, them informing you that the only way you could enter was if you and Hawks walked through the line of reporters that were crowding around the front of the entrance. Hawks saw your face drain of its color as the nervousness crawled up.

he gave you a genuine smile, not really knowing how to help you before grabbing your wrist gently, “you’ll be fine,” he murmured.

you nodded as the two of you approached the line and put on huge smiles on your faces as the cameras immediately turned to you, reporters yelling for your attention, asking rapid fire questions. you looked to Hawks, telling him you should at least approach one before they sensationalized what was going on between the two of you in gossip shows and magazines.

you approached the most nicest looking reporter, “(your hero name), it’s nice to see you! you’re here with Hawks!” she exclaimed. Hawks laughed, “is there something going on here? first in the morning, now at this event? is this the way the two of you are going public?” she asked.

Hawks chuckled, glancing at you quickly, “wouldn’t that be crazy? the number two hero and the number five hero dating? I guess we’ll never know,” he mentioned, grabbing your hand and scurrying away.

“Hawks! that was rude!” you exclaimed, “she was nice and you just ran off on her,” you lectured, Hawks not knowing whether to laugh or stand there and get lectured. he didn’t have enough time to choose as Mirko and a few other heroes approached the two of you.

“you’re going to give our new friend a heart attack Hawks!” Mirko yelled, slapping Hawks in the arm. he tried dodging her, failing easily, “relax, I doubt they’ll do anything with that footage,” you sighed, seeing the bar not too far from where you were.

“I’m going to get something to drink, I’ll be back,” you told them, quickly walking away. you had no idea how to start up a conversation with them. you felt very out of place, feeling as though they were just stringing you along with them because they felt bad.

“are you okay? you seem a little out of it?” you heard Mirko’s voice say. you gave her a small smile, “I’m fine. just not used to this kind of thing,” you admitted, taking a sip of the extremely hard liquor you had ordered. Mirko giggled at the face you were making.

“just relax! plus, if you’re wondering, this is the first time Hawks has ever done this with anyone. it’s surprising to all of us that he even came, nevertheless with a date. Hawks might act like an entitled brat but I promise you, underneath those layers of entitlement, he’s not that bad.”

you remained silent, not knowing what to do with the information she gave you. after the two of you talked, you walked back to the group of heroes, trying to engage with them a bit more. every now and again, you would walk with whoever wanted a drink, just to give them company so they wouldn’t be alone.

eventually, all of you got a table, sitting and drinking with each other. you couldn’t lie, the alcohol was hitting your system a bit more harsher than you thought it would. the buzz was swirling in your head as you chugged back a glass of water to see if you could shake it off.

“I’m going to get some air. I’m getting a bit stuffy in here,” you told Mirko as Hawks stood up, offering to accompany you. you gave him a smile, walking out of the side door that led to an unlit alley, “how are you enjoying the night?” he asked.

you tried to steady your breathing, hoping you were able to calm the buzzing feeling down, “yeah, it’s nice to get out,” you replied, a yawn coming from you, “but I’m feeling the alcohol a bit,” you said.

the rest of the time you stood quietly, leaning up a bit against Hawks as he let you. you had no intentions of getting this close to him but with the alcohol mixing with your empty stomach, your actions spoke louder than the thoughts your brain were screaming at you.

“i appreciate you taking me out tonight. it’s not every day someone like you offers for me to come out,” you mumbled, trying not to look at him in the eyes. Hawks hummed, bringing you in a little closer, “don’t worry about it. someone had to get you out of your shell, right?” he asked.

you rolled your eyes, Hawks lifting up your chin to look at him, “plus, someone as cute as you shouldn’t be cooped up inside all the time,” he added on. “reporters might think that you and I have a thing together if you continue to be this way,” you mentioned, trying not to get flustered.

he shrugged, not really caring for what this round of gossip magazines had to say about your relationship with him.

“I don’t care, let them think what they want,” he whispered as you brought him closer to you. your lips were barely touching each other, “but I get the idea that you might want to continue this thing we have going on,” you joked.

Hawks nodded, finally smashing his lips with yours, making you a bit surprised by the actions. you returned the kiss, your eyes shut as you felt Hawks grab your hand softly and hold it. once you let go, you saw the ghost of his small flustered expression on his face.

what the two of you didn’t realize was that as the two of you were in the middle of the heated make out session, a reporter who was on their way to their car had spotted the two of you, smirking to themself as he quickly snapped the photo of you two and darting to his car.

“so does this mean I’ll get a date tomorrow?” Hawks asked making you laugh. you thought for a moment, making him stand on edge, “text me tomorrow and you’ll have your answer,” you joked, running back inside of the venue, making him chase after you.

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mcfreakin-bxtch · 4 years

Text

Welcome Home

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Smut, Half-awake and goofy Reader, Daddy Kink, Soft Sex, Unprotected Sex, Language, Fluffff

Word Count: 2.5K+

Summary: After many sleepless nights (and one missed text), Bucky is finally home.

A/N: Reposting because Tumblr hates meeeeee. I know I’ve been IA off and on here but I promise I’m working on my series as much as I can. It’s been one hell of an year, huh? My inbox is always open for you lovelies. Love you all.

***

The bed feels too big without him.

It’s normal to feel this way on most lonely nights, when Bucky has to be away on a mission—not like he isn’t saving the world or anything, but after two years of sleeping next to his heavy but familiar weight, it’s hard to fall asleep without it. What’s worse is that you can’t rest your head over his heartbeat or crawl into his warm, open arms, or kiss that little pout on his lips.

You even begin to miss the array of clothes spread out on a pile in the corner of the room that he always claims he’ll get to when they start to smell—as much as you want to kill him for it, you sincerely miss it now.

The blocky red numbers glare at you from where it sits on your nightstand, reminding you for the hundredth time that this is the fifth night in a row of tossing and turning and it’s four in the morning. Your body is fatigued but your mind anxious and relentless; he hasn’t texted like he promised he would, like how it’s been on nearly every mission, and maybe it’s because of the fact that he’ll be home tomorrow, not because he’s—

“Stop,” you whisper to yourself.

You let out a deep sigh and flop onto your back—the ceiling still has the same color and the small crack that keeps you fixated for a decent amount of time. Not even the running box fan or the low volume of your tv is doing anything to appease your unsettling thoughts. At this point, you don’t want to get up at all, not even to pee… no, you really need to go.

The bathroom is just as cold as the bedroom feels and it makes you want to cry; you won’t, but it’s close. The slight chilly air stings your bare feet as they paddle across the floor, sitting up this time on your bed and snatching the remote with a huff. You flip through the channels mindlessly, barely paying attention to the titles—titles that you’ve already seen a thousand times—while slumping against the pillows with the hope that SpongeBob SquarePants will be the final solution to your sleeping problem.

You become so engrossed in the cartoon that you don’t notice the creak of your house door, or the soft plop of a bag on the floor, nor the light steps making their towards your room until the handle jiggles rather loudly for someone who’s trying to sneak around; Bucky still underestimates his own strength on some days, like this one.

When the door starts to slowly open you curse yourself for not being more attentive, and try to remember with stiff muscles where that stupid knife Bucky gave you is…

“Shit,” the intruder curses. “Sorry, doll. Did I wake ya?”

The gruff whisper—twinged with a light Brooklyn accent—echoes across the room and straight to your chest, your heart stuttering a beat at the realization; the ocean gray eyes meets yours with a tired but exciting glint that equally matches the one in yours and that beautiful, beautiful full smile greets you like home.

“Bucky!” You squeal quietly, not wanting to disturb the peace, opening your arms out wide for him. “You’re home.”

He chuckles and closes the door behind him, slipping his gloves off, the two or maybe three shirts (armor, padding, whatever it is) he easily shrugs off, then his socks and pants, leaving him in a tank top and boxers. You wait patiently, all the while checking for any new scrapes and bruises or any signs of injury in his expression; so far so good.

The mattress dips under his fists as he leans over to give you a kiss; it’s short, just a quick peck that leaves you whining for more. Instead, he smiles again and rubs the tip of his nose affectionately against yours.

“I missed you,” his breath ghosts over your lips.

You cup his face, his light stubble scratching your skin, and pull him towards a longer, deeper kiss. He moans faintly into the kiss and dips the rest of his weight on the bed, curling into you instinctively; he fits against you like your puzzle piece, and when you lie down he follows fluently, careful of not laying all of his weight on you—as much you really want him to squish you.

“I missed you more,” you say in between kisses, wrapping your legs around his waist. “So—” the loud smack of your lips against his cheek raises a lovely chorus of giggles from the both of you. “—so much! But how?”

Bucky understands. “Caught the guy earlier than expected. Got back at the compound, took a shower—”

“And you didn’t text me, asshole!”

“Aw,” he drawls in a pitch, teasing your ribs with feather-like caresses. “I’m sorry baby. I won’t do it again, I promise.”

He seals his promise with a kiss, not wasting any time in slipping his tongue along the seams of your lips; you grant him access, swirling his tongue with yours. You moan and, without even realizing what you’re doing, slant your hips up, arching yourself into his touch. His hands slide down your body, memorizing every detail of your curves while continuing the dirty, sensual kiss; you then feel the half-hard bulge grinding steadily against your core, but you nor Bucky comment on it.

He’s the first one to pull back. Bucky doesn’t say a word, and so neither do you, just taking in each breath that leaves his lungs through an exhale, every inch of muscle that rests and moves against yours, and suddenly it feels like you can actually sleep now.

“Pretty girl,” he murmurs, using the tip of his pointer finger to trace the circles under your eye. “Having trouble sleeping again?”

“I always do when you’re gone,” you mumble back, closing your eyes since he mentioned it.

He starts to move but you latch onto him before he can fully sit himself up, wrapping your arms around his neck and burying his face in your neck.

“Baby,” he giggles, moving his hands to your hips.

“I still have to welcome you home, soldier,” you purr and run your fingers through his soft, short hair.

You grind back at his still hips, grinning goofily at the sigh that escapes his lips. “C’mon, I want to.” Another slow grind, harder than before. “I wanna feel that thick cock fill me up so good, been too long, daddy.”

The breath hitches audibly in his throat, his eyes growing dark and glazed. “You sure?” He asks, because he’s the perfect gentleman as always. “It looks like you can barely keep your eyes open, sweetheart.”

“Not uh.” To prove your point, you open your eyes as wide as they can go. Bucky laughs with a shake of his head that tells you, ‘I love you, you fucking goofball’.

You lean up to catch his slightly chapped lips, and reach down to pull your shorts and panties off; Bucky breaks the kiss to look, groaning at the sight of your glistening pussy. You palm him through the thin fabric of his boxers, giving him a light squeeze.

He buckles against your hand. “Fuck,” he hisses, then chuckles. “It really has been too long.”

“So,” you quickly slip your shirt over your head, reveling in the way his eyes immediately latch on your breasts. “Fuck me.”

Bucky finally gives in with a moan, bumping his forehead against yours for a rushed but heated kiss that leaves goosebumps on your skin. You waste no time in pulling his boxers down, licking your lips at the sight of his twitching cock.

“Oof!”

His entire weight topples on you in his haste to pull his shirt off, crushing the air out of your lungs; he mumbles an unintelligent apology against your open mouth.

Metal rests against the slope of your ass as the other lines himself at your entrance, looking in your eyes for your approval. You nod, too excited and trembling with anticipation. His lips are once again back on yours, the bulbous tip of him nudging through your folds and circling your clit, teasing you with a knowing smirk as you kiss.

Before you can scold him he pushes in, stretching you slowly to the brim until his balls rest at the slope of your backside; it’s a little painful, but the burn is a bonus to the increasing pleasure you feel by him just being inside you.

“Oh fuck,” you gasp through gritted teeth, clutching his biceps with a tight grip. He answers with a nip to your breast, circling his tongue around the perk nipple before completely latching his mouth onto the sensitive mold; his teeth lightly scrapes you, making your body jolt and pussy flutter around him—shit, it really has been too long for the both of you.

You tighten your legs around him, enveloping yourself in his heat, not wanting to bear the coldness that plagued you in his absence.

“Good?” He croaks from your chest, already sounding breathless.

“Please.”

He settles himself more comfortably between your legs and pulls back until only the tip is inside, plunging back in with a hard, punctuated thrust that heaves your body upwards. A choked sigh scrapes your throat, your hands splayed out on his back, feeling every muscle continue to move and slither; chaste kisses litter your neck with every thrust, hard and steady and deep.

“Buck.”

“I know,” he says. His metal hand cups your cheek, holding your gaze—you’re doing your best to keep your eyes open, but you don’t know how much longer that’ll last. “You feel so good, princess. So good, so fucking good.”

You lift your hips to meet his, feeling the coil in your lower stomach building and tightening and getting hotter and hotter—

“Fuck Bucky right there!” You moan wantonly, shifting your body so he can hit your sweet spot again.

“I got ya,” he rubs your back before pushing your lower half up so he can keep you exactly where he wants you, not once breaking the rhythm you can now so easily create.

His cock continues to bring you undeniable euphoria, scratching against every little itch you have and angling his pelvis so that it grinds against your aching clit, giving you the extra stimulation you need. He kisses you until you have no more air to give, nips and bites at you until there’s marks, caresses your body with a touch only a lover can understand, fucks you so right and smooth that you can feel every vein and ridge of his cock; thank fuck he’s home.

His hips move a little faster, no doubt starting to feel the edge of his climax. As if to prove your point, his hand—the one that was one your cheek—reaches up to grip the top of the headboard, using the pull to push himself somehow deeper into you; like he’s trying to crawl into your body and take shelter where he knows he’s safe.

“Y-yeah, shit B-Buck keep going!” You stammer in between thrusts. Your pussy flutters harder around him, making him squeeze his eyes tightly shut and curse under his breath.

“Me too, pretty girl,” he growls, looking down at you like you’re the most beautiful piece of art he’s ever seen, and in his eyes you are. “Gonna cum with me?” Your cunt clenches around him. “Goddamn baby—” (holyfuckingshit the way he just whimpered has your entire back arching and more juices gushing from your core). “—forgot how tight you are.”

It’s too much now, the friction heating your entire core until it feels like your whole body is on fire, about to implode at any second. Your moans and whimpers spur him on even more, now slamming his hips until the sound of skin against skin—and the sloshes of his dick pounding into you—echoes loudly in the room.

“Bucky I’m gonna come.”

“I feel you,” he grunts. “Come around my cock, babygirl. C’mon, I wanna feel it, sweet girl.”

Your legs tremble and shake as your orgasm approaches you, clouding your mind with a fog and filling your vision with white; you’re so lost in the spasm of your pussy, the thumb now rubbing your clit in tight circles, and the growls and whimpers that he’s doing nothing to hide, that when your cunt squeezes him like a vice, the scream that follows does no shame to the gruff grunts and groans lapping with your vocals.

Bucky fucks you through your orgasm, your sensitive pussy continuing to flutter around him. It’s like you’re being shocked by bolts with the way your body spasms beneath him, taking everything he’s giving you and more until you’re nothing but a puddle at his bidding; every nerve feels shot and abused, but it’s not complete until he fills you up.

“Christ doll I’m coming,” he growls from his chest, sending shivers through you. You clench your pussy around him and… and he gasps like you just punched him in the gut and suddenly hot spurts of cum fill your pussy in thick, hot ropes.

With one final, hard thrust he collapses on top of you. The air is thick and slick with the air of sex, skin glistening in the soft light of the tv that’s still playing the same cartoon. His chest rises and falls with yours as you catch your breaths, holding each other.

Bucky is usually the first to recover. He raises his head and gives you a tired, goofy smile before kissing you; he uses the distraction to carefully pull out of you, the chill of the air brushing against the combined juices covering your pussy and inner thighs. You grumble with a scrunch to your eyebrows that makes him giggle.

“Hang on.”

He gets out of the bed with a heavy sigh that comes with age—you like to tease him about it every now and then—and flicks the light to the bathroom on, leaving the door ajar. The sound of running water is faint to your ears, the exhaustion of the week settling in on you heavily. The rattles from the bathroom fade with the stress, into comfortable white noise...

The cold, wet cloth makes you jump with a whine (did you actually fall asleep for a minute there?). Bucky shushes you gently from where he sits, gently cleaning you up before throwing the washcloth towards the corner of the room—yes, his corner.

Your arms blindly reach for him, your eyes still closed. You hear him turn the tv off and shuffle around until the covers are being pulled back and he slides in, making sure you’re both completely covered. He crawls into your embrace, laying his head in the crook of your neck and tangling his legs with yours.

“I love you,” you whisper groggily.

“I love you, too,” he says back with ease.

A few moments of silence pass, and just before you reach the land of dreams, one silly little thought brings you back.

“Bucky?”

A minute.

“What?”

“Welcome home.”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes imagines #fanfic

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ia-bi-tia · 3 years

Text

Ok so today was a disaster day for art HOWEVER it seemed to have been a good days for writing :^3

Here's a thing I wrote on my phone - a word vomit if you will

1, 691 words

I feel like you don't really need much backstory for this other than it's set like 6 months after their mother physically assaulted them and they stayed in the home of a physician. This drabble is about how they met Vedra. It's set in Nevinon.

(The whole backstory is coming just be patient and pretend like all this makes sense, thanks!)

They had been so silent for almost half a year - only a few silent words would leave their throat when they were spoken to by the physician or his wife.

"How are you feeling today?"

"Okay."

"Have you eaten anything?"

"Yes."

"Oh? What have you eaten?"

"Bread."

"....The bread is still intact, darling."

They didn't even have the strength to argue. They were so weak. They could barely leave the bed on most days.

Their back was usually turned to their current guardians, always in a state of sobbing and trembling or complete and all consuming nothingness. They'd just stare at the white wall in front of them until their vision went spotted, and then they'd just keep going. The period was rough and any sense of joy seemed too far out of reach.

The closest they felt to joy was the rare chances they got to visit the nearby city.

It would usually be when the physician had work there and nobody could look over the child so they'd get the chance to explore on their own.

And explore they did.

Their lanky frame could be seen slithering around the streets, always covered and silent, looking up at all the buildings. The architecture was different from the farm they grew up in - it felt alive.

They'd stroll down the streets and watch the people of it and listen. What lives these people led.

With hearing only bits and pieces they could try to string together stories.

It kept their mind busy on those days.

These outings would spark the tiniest fire in them.

But it seemed so out of reach. So intangible to lead a life like that.

To be old and share gossip with an old friend.

No.

That wasn't for them.

They didn't know where they belonged, their imagination envisioning them maybe an hour in advance at most.

They wouldn't live to be sixteen.

How could they? Life seemed to be out to get them.

Would they stay in the house they were at forever? That would be so depressing, wouldn't it?

On one such day they found themself on the streets again. They heard the sound of an accordion coming from the square. They tried to push through the crowd to see the musician but were found lacking in strength as well as attitude to do so.

They frowned and looked around to find a pile of sturdy looking crates. They clutched their chest as they climbed, still not trusting the injury they got a few months back not to burst if they pushed themself too much.

With a huff, they plopped down onto the crate, now with a better view of the show.

But it wasn't much of a show.

A boy maybe a few years older than them played the instrument, his legs crossed as he lazily played. Beside him was a badly put together bench with a big pot of hot stew on it. A girl about his age was stirring the pot, offering the food to anyone who passed. She held a polite smile as she talked to the would-be customers(?), but the second their backs would turn, her face would show the full extent of her frustration. She'd mumble something to the boy beside her to which he would only shrug.

The pair intrigued Ia and they couldn't keep their eyes away from them. They felt so alien to them yet the two also reminded them of their father so much that it made their chest tighten.

"Oi, you little rat, get off there!"

The sound of a merchant, presumably the owner of the crates, boomed from behind them. This frightened them and they lost their balance and they could feel themself slip from their seat, no matter the flailing of their limbs.

They fell ass-first onto the floor, a loud thud heard from the rubble. They felt their spine reset from the impact and tears started streaming from their shocked face. They tried to get up but a sharp, throbbing pain in their back stopped them in their tracks. All they could do was close their eyes and cry from the pain and from the humiliation of the crowd gathering around them.

They didn't see the people who helped them up, but they knew their knees trembled as they tried to stand. They cried miserably, not sure what to do next.

"Iotta!"

They heard the physician call out as he seemingly stumbled across the scene. He tusked as he took hold of them.

"What happened?! Are you okay?"

Ia sobbed and shook their head no.

"Ay yai yai, we best get you fixed up."

The physician lifted them up bridal style to at least get them away from all the people.

Ia managed to catch one look of the two that helped them up - the musicians.

….

It had been a few days of them recovering. It wasn't too serious, their back was just a little beaten up.

They spent the period thinking about the musicians and what energy they possessed.

The boy was the prettiest they'd ever seen - tall and lean with angular features. The way he was hunched over that stool was somehow both effortless and elegant.

The girl was an intrigue of her own. The roots of her dark hair were dark hair were showing under the copper red she dyed it in and her face was so expressive. She seemed discouraged by whatever she was doing, yet she stood tall and determined despite her short frame.

It had been a while since they felt the need to make friends.

Making friends.

The idea seemed so far removed from what they had been experiencing for the last few months. As a child they loved walking up to the other children from the village. But now they weren't sure if they could do it.

But the human need was there and they were determined to fulfill it .

They rummaged the little belongings they had to find their father's tambourine. They hadn't touched it in almost four years.

They dragged their fingers over the smooth, darkened skin of the drumhead. They seemed to have grown into it; the weight and size of the instrument weren't as awkward in their hands anymore.

They struck the tambourine again their thigh, at first flinching at the loud sound but it soon turned into a wide, happy grin.

Oh, how they've missed it.

Noise.

Perhaps it was the silence driving them crazy all this time.

They messed around for a while, just enjoying the pure joy of making noise.

They left a note on the door as they snuck out.

'I'll be back. Do not worry.'

They awkwardly clutched the instrument under their cloak as they threaded the well known path into the city.

Their heart raced. This was stupid. How would they even find them? What would they even say to them? What if they didn't like them? What if they were mean?

Though their mind was uncertain, their legs walked like no tomorrow.

It was late afternoon by the time they saw the pair at the beach a little far off from the docks. They had company. Lively company.

There was about six of them, all making music together around a campfire.

They were all as varied and colourful as the instruments they played. The music was intense and rowdy and sometimes they would sing and other times they would scream. But it sounded so good.

Ia stood quite a ways back from them as they tried to catch their breath, watching them from behind the long curly mess that was their hair.

They battled against themself for an agonizing amount of time before taking a few steps closer. Then a few more. Then another few until the girl from earlier noticed them.

She squinted in their direction then smiled widely.

"Hey! How's your bum doing, kid?"

Ia freezed in their tracks, eyes wide like a deer's. Their mouth hung open but no words seemed to come out. Oh no. This was a mistake.

The girl stood up and walked over to them, head cocked to the side.

"You feeling okay? Sorry if that was a bit-"

Her words were interrupted by them shaking their head.

"Okay then. Would you like to sit with us?"

A nod.

"Come."

The girl led them to a stool so they could sit down and she plopped into the sand beside them.

"Introductions, band!"

The girl called out and the whole group puffed up their chests and assumed soldier-like expressions.

"Anvil."

"Esfir."

"Apolonia."

"Ras."

"Mete."

"Vedra."

Ia watched them all, amazed at just the little glimpse of their dynamics. They were all so much different from the people they'd usually see as well as so different from each other.

They were surprised when Vedra looked up at them with an encouraging smile.

"What do you like to be called?"

The simple act of not asking for their name, but for what *they* wanted to be called gave them a new type of feeling. A new type of euphoria.

They stuttered, their voice so unused and unnatural.

"I-Ianais. O-or maybe only Ia."

Vedra clapped her hands together, her smile as bright as ever. They could notice one golden tooth in her otherwise impressive teeth.

"It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Ia. Say, what brings you to our merry little banď?"

Ia didn't really have an answer so they just shyly showed them all their tambourine with an honest and hopeful smile.

The group burst into cheers and laughter at the weird new kid in their company.

"One of us, it seems like."

The pretty boy, Mete, commented with a little nudge to their arm.

*One of them.*

Maybe their imagination could stretch their lifespan a little further. They'd love to see what it would be like to be seventeen. Maybe even eighteen.

They had never felt so relaxed and accepted, even with just so little.

And it gave their life purpose to know feeling like this was possible.

Little did they know they just met the rest of their life.

:^)

#writing #this isn't v good however this was my little beadtime project for the last few days so i hope you enjoy :^)#ia #vedra #this is completely unedited and not proofread so like he he #it's cheezy af but that's exactly how i like it 😌#also my askbox is open for any questions or whatever!

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theanimesideblog · 3 years

Note

Bakugou, Todoroki, Deku and Hinata with a s/o who's from somewhere really warm, so the first time they see snow is at UA?

Bakugou, Todoroki, Midoriya, Hinata x GN!Reader: First Snow

TW: none

A/N: sorry for being IA!! school started up and i hit a hiccup. i’ll try to get everything done. thank you all for being patient :)

Bakugou

He doesn’t mind the snow too much. He’s annoyed that it takes more to activate his quirk, but that’s about it

Bakugou is a softie internally (CANON) so he loves the beauty snow brings

When you tell him that you’ve never seen snow, he’s shocked. Honestly, kinda makes a fuss about it

If it’s not going to snow that year, he’s going to make Todoroki make it snow

Todoroki is like “:) okay bestie” and does it for him

Bakugou loves to watch your eyes light up as the snow falls. He loves how the snow catches in your hair. He loves the flush on your cheeks

He’ll make sure you’re well bundled, or yell at you until you are

Todoroki

When you tell him you’ve never seen snow, he doesn’t have a reaction

I think snow can be bittersweet for him because it reminds him of his family

Please ask him to make snow angels and snowmen with you. He probably doesn’t get to do it often

He’ll gladly indulge in whatever you want to do in the snow

He’ll even use his quirk so sledding is more fun

If you get cold, he’ll pull you into his side to warm you up

He makes hot chocolate for both of you so you can watch the snow gently fall at night

Midoriya

“WHAT?? YOUVE NEVER SEEN SNOW??”

Inko probably came up with a bunch of games to play in the snow, and Midoriya teaches you all of them

However, be prepared to deal with Midoriya making sure you’re bundled up before hand

Have you ever seen that kid in A Christmas Story that is so bundled up he can barely walk? Yeah, that’s going to be you

He goes overboard, so you’ll definitely have to shed a few layers while you’re out and about

He’ll also use the snow as an excuse to cuddle, drink hot chocolate, and watch movies with you

Also, you two definitely have a quirk based snowball fight. You know. For training reasons. Not for any frivolous reasons. Nooooo.

Hinata

Once winter comes, he’s constantly checking the weather to see when it’ll snow

You two are actually hanging out when it suddenly snows. Hinata totally forgot that it was going to snow and got all excited

“CMON LETS GO PLAY IN THE SNOW”

He doesn’t care that neither of you are properly dressed. He’s too excited to care

You two do EVERYTHING!! Snowball fights, building snowmen, you name it

The next day you two both had a cold since your clothes got soaked and you were both shivering at the end

Hinata got an earful from Suga and Dachi about it

Hinata would- and will- do it all again just to see your smile

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weirdestbooks · 3 years

Text

Secret States Chapter 10

Getting No Sleep Isn’t That Bad, Right?

France POV

DC, NASA, Vermont, and American Samoa all exchanged looks after my question.

"I mean...not really. It's just something that we've all accepted as a constant in our lives. Tama would like a regular sleep schedule, it's just...not possible." America Samoa said, biting his lip, shooting DC a glance.

"How is it not possible? NATO mentioned a lot of work, but it can't be that much." Scotland asked.

"Well there is. Dad has a lot to manage. He has the states, the territories, me, and then the reservations, although the states and reservations can manage their own things sometimes." DC explained.

"Reservations?" Wales asked.

"The Native American tribes. Some of them have their own land, and make their own laws there. What did Dad call them again?" NASA explained, before looking to DC as he asked his question.

"They're 'domestically dependent nations.' Their governments work very similarly to the states, just without the strong connection to other state governments, or the federal government." DC said. I was shocked. America had given his native tribes sovereignty over land? And his native tribes were still alive? I thought that they had all died long ago.

"The tribes are alive?" Britain asked. American Samoa nodded.

"Over 500 tribes are recognized as tribes, but the 326 that have reservations are the ones who can govern themselves, at least on an extent." American Samoa explained.

"Not all 326 reservations belong to a single tribe. Some have more that one. Just use the 574 federally recognized tribes as a headcount." Vermont told his siblings.

"Although Navajo Nation, Hopi Nation, Cherokee Nation, Choctaw Nation, and Pine Ridge Indian Reservation are the five who are considered autonomous administrative territories." DC explained. Oh my. I mean, when I learned America was a union, I knew he was going to be divided up into many parts, but I didn't expect it to be this many pieces.

Or for it to be this complicated. America had divided himself into so many different parts, the states, the territories, the reservations. How did he deal with the demands of so many different parts? He was divided into more pieces that UN was, and UN had the majority of the world in his organization.

"That's...a lot." Northern Ireland said. Vermont laughed.

"There are a lot of different native people. They aren't all the same. If you want to know more about their culture, see if Ari, Okie, Xico, Vada, Wash, Ore, Southie, or Cali can help you. There the states with the most reservations, right?" NASA explained, before asking DC his question. I didn't recognize any of those names, aside from Cali, so they wouldn't help me that much.

But I guess that states were so used to calling each other nicknames that they didn't use real names. The states weren't used to have to call each other by their real names to clarify who they were to strangers.

Because America kept them a secret. No matter what we learned about America in the past couple of days, everything really stems from, and comes back to, America keeping the states secret. I know they wanted to be kept secret, and I could understand Louisiana's reasoning. What I did to here was horrible, and I should of been a better sister to her when I had the chance.

I just wish they wanted to meet us. I looked back at DC, NASA, and American Samoa. I wonder if any of them wanted to keep themselves secret from the world?

"I believe so, yes." DC responded.

"Why do you always ask DC questions?" New Zealand asked NASA.

"I'm the space exploration program. I know about things outside of this planet. Not so much about internal politics. Everyone tries to stick to their own thing unless another state does something they don't like. D helps Dad keep track of everything involving the entire Union." NASA explained.

"Yeah. Although if I get statehood, I will not longer be keeping track of things." DC said.

"But you're like the federal government." American Samoa said.

"Dad is the federal government. I am a federal district that is run by the federal government, more specifically the US Congress. Which basically means I'm run by the people the states elected." DC explained.

"Don't you guys have people in Congress?" NASA asked.

"Yeah but they can't do anything. We aren't states, so we can't vote on the laws, just complain to the states and their representatives and senators to do something that will benefit us." American Samoa said.

"Really? What about equal representation?" Britain asked. American Samoa shrugged.

"It's always been this way. All the states were territories at some point, aside from the Thirteen, Texas and Vermont. They all went through a period of not having a say in Congress." DC explained.

"Oh." Britain said, "I just assumed with the whole Revolution America would give everyone representation."

"It doesn't work that way." NASA said, shrugging.

"The Constitution never really planned for territories outside land that would eventually become a state, so the territories were left with no voting representation. But that's not what we're here to talk about, nor is it the entire reason for any of that." Vermont said. DC nodded, before turning to face Britain and Canada.

"I want to know that you're sorry for burning me." She said, her eyes narrowed in anger and suspicion. The air in the room, well hallway I guess, become awkward. All of the countries here, aside from Australia, New Zealand, and Northern Ireland, had something they had to apologize for to a state.

"I'm sorry about everything that happened during that battle. I...I...I don't think I could ever apologize enough for what happened." Canada apologized, his apology falling out of his mouth quickly, like he had been waiting to say it.

After his breakdown over realizing he burnt his niece, my granddaughter, I expected that. After hearing everything thing that happened during the Burning of Washington it made sense. Canada was incredibly kind hearted and very protective over his family, even after everything that happened between him and America. And finding out that he unknowingly hurt his family and not just his family, but a child, was hard enough without the fact that he tried to kill America at the same time.

"I know you went along because Britain wanted to burn the capital and you wanted revenge. I would forgive you if it was just that. It will take a while to gain trust from me. What about you Britain?" DC told Canada before questioning Britain.

"I apologize as well. I never meant to hurt anyone that wasn't America." Britain told DC, who narrowed her eyes.

"You shouldn't have been trying to hurt us at all and just recognized our independence properly." I heard Vermont mutter under his breath. Ireland looked toward Vermont, who shrugged.

"An apology's nice. But I'm not going to trust you again until you can prove that you're trustworthy." DC said.

"Deja vu." Muttered Scotland. He wasn't wrong about that. DC sounded a lot like America did when the British Isles were trying to earn back his trust. He accepted the apology, but that wasn't all it took to win back his forgiveness.

He gave everyone certain demands or things they had to do. One of the those demands for England was to keep whatever happened in the 1860s a secret. I wish I knew what happened. The states seemed very angry about whatever happened, but kept it a secret because America asked.

England mentioned that it was personal for America, and he seemed very intent on not mentioning what happened. Was that because America asked? Or because he wanted to keep us from finding out he threaten to declare war on America? Maybe it was just because he didn't want to talk about whatever happened?

Whatever happened during that time period wasn't good. I wish I could know what happened. I don't think keeping it a secret will help anyone in the end. Especially not America. But that's not my decision to make. I hope that America will trust me with that secret someday.

And I hoped that someday came soon. Mon fils was clearly struggling with many things, the plethora of children, the lack of a constant sleep schedule, and whatever happened during those years of silence. Whatever happened in the 1860s.

Whatever happened seemed to terrify mon fils beyond anything I had seen before. It was a bit scary to me. Not only because of my worry and concern as his mother, but as a nation. If the sole superpower is scared of something, it's usually a cause for concern.

"I understand. Your father was the same way when we went to fix our relationship. I was patient then, I can be patient now." Britain said. DC nodded.

"Well now that we're done dealing with that...I don't know we didn't really plan discussion topics." American Samoa said.

"I could blab about space." NASA said raising upon his hand.

"If you don't mind, I wanted to catch up with Vermont." Canada said. NASA nodded.

"That's fine." He said before turning to me. "Do you want to hear about the Perseverance mission on Mars?"

"Ou te tauto pe a toe taʻua e ia lena misiona o le a ou leiloa." (I swear if he mentions that mission one more time I’m going to lose it.) American Samoa muttered.

"Not sure what you said but I'm pretty sure it's an insult. So...hey, you don't have to me mean about me being excited about my things." NASA said, causing DC and Vermont to roll their eyes.

"I would be interest in hearing about the Mars space mission." Wales said. NASA nodded and smiled.

"That's great! Normally the only people when get excited about missions are Dad and Flor, because Dad likes space and all the stuff I did for the Apollo mission was mainly in Florida, which got him into space. And I guess Navajo is more into space now since we're using her language to name things." NASA said, his speech getting faster and more excited as his wings flared out and hit American Samoa, with DC barley dodging them.

"Will you stop doing that! I swear to god you have no control over your wings you muli!" American Samoa said.

"Sorry Sam. You know I get excited about my projects and missions." NASA said. American Samoa rolled his eyes.

"Sometimes you get overly excited Nas." Vermont said. NASA nodded.

"I know, but space is just really cool! And its my thing. I'm the space program in case any of you forgot." NASA said.

"Why do you think you have a countryhuman anyway? Nada has a space program, and Mom and Dad are part of Europe's space program, but neither of those programs have countryhumans?" New Zealand asked. I had never though about that. It did seem weird that America was the only country we knew of to have a countryhuman for their space program, when he always far from the only country to have a space program. NASA shrugged.

"No idea." He said.

"The US is a weird place that doesn't like making sense. There. That's your answer." American Samoa said.

"Well you're not wrong about that." Vermont said. That made a lot of sense as an explanation. Even before we found out about the states, many things America did were always considered odd by at least thirty countries.

From his use of the imperial system, his large personal space bubble (a trait the states seemed to share), and many other things that didn't happen anywhere but his country. America was always very different from other countries, not in a bad way, he could just be a bit odd.

Being revealed as a Union, a father, having a horrible sleep schedule, and haunted by something horrible that happened in his past weren't the normal oddities I had always learned to expect from America.

And I'm not sure why this worried me so much. Maybe it was fear that America was hiding more secrets that could be harmful to his mental health. America did have a habit of saying he was fine, even if he was far from it. America could be hurting his mental health and not even realizing it.

So that's most likely the source of my worry, although I had no idea how to get America to open up enough to trust me with personal information about his mental health. While America was close to us as a family, he could be very closed off sometimes, most likely a result from his isolationist days.

"I guess we could give you a quick introduction to all the states, but you can get to know them more personally at separate times. There's way to many of us to do it all at once, even if you exclude my siblings you already know." DC said. Vermont frowned.

"Would you mind if I caught up with Bec and introduced him to our siblings at a separate time?" He asked. DC turned towards Canada.

"Well? How do you feel about that?" She asked him. Canada nodded.

"I want to catch up with Mont. It's been a long time." He said. NASA sighed and looked disappointed.

"Guess I can't blab about space now. Oh well I'll do it later." He remarked.

"Well D, have fun giving them a tour. I've got to get something set up with Guam." America Samoa said before running off.

"If you make a mess you're cleaning it up!" Vermont yelled after him. I stifled a giggle at that. All of America's kids so far have had different personalities, but they all seemed to fix together, regardless of how different they seemed.

I mean, if they didn't fit together, America might now be alive right now. I pushed away that depressing though. I already had enough America related worries. I didn't need to give myself anymore.

"Well I guess we can start introducing you to whoever we run into. We can check the house , but since Dad broke up Michi and 'Hio's fight, I'm not sure who's in here." DC said.

"Before we start, or you could start and I'll catch up, but I was wondering if I could talk to America?" I asked DC, who nodded.

"What about?" Britain asked.

"Just his sleep schedule. It's not healthy." I responded. Britain nodded.

"Yes, if you can convince Dad to sleep, that would be great. He needs it, regardless of how much he says he doesn't." NASA said. DC nodded.

"Yeah, please get him to sleep. He's probably trying to do work right now." Vermont said, before turning to Canada, "So, Bec, what do you want to catch up on?"

As Vermont and Canada began talking, and DC took everyone else to meet the other states, I walked into America's room. He was sitting at a desk, leaning over a piece of paper. His head would droop slightly before he raised it up again. America was barley keeping himself awake.

"Ame. You need to sleep." I told him. America looked up at me, his eye bags prominent.

"I'm fine. I just need to finish this, then I'll try." He said before returning back to his work, head continuing to droop every couple of seconds. Why did America have to be so stubborn? Sure, it could be helpful sometimes, but America took it to a ridiculous extreme.

"America you're barley staying awake. Your health is more important than your work." I told him.

"It's not." America said, before looking at me, widening his eyes. Clearly America hasn't meant to say that, and it was concerning. Why does America think work is more important than his health?

"Ame..." I said. America looked down.

"I..." he said, seeming at a lost for words.

"Ame I will not let you hurt yourself this way. You need to set aside your work and go to sleep." I told him. America looked back up at me.

"I...Mom...I just...I...I..." he tried to protest, trailing off as he couldn't come up with an argument.

"Ame." I said. America sighed.

"Fine, but if I don't fall asleep within five minutes, and I'm going back to doing my work." America said. I nodded, and America stood up before walking over to his bed. He laid down on top of the covers.

"I'm telling you, I'm not going to fall asleep." America said.

Two minutes later he had fallen asleep. I smiled. I hope this would help America. I would help him now, but the topic of getting him a healthy sleep schedule was still important. America didn't seem to realize how harmful his sleep schedule was.

He also thought that work was more important than his health. That wasn't something I expected from America, and it worried me. America was going to get himself killed one of these days if he continued with that habit.

"Юг, моля." (South, please.) I heard America mutter, his voice sounding slightly distressed. I didn't understand what he was saying, so I could be sure if he was having a nightmare or not.

"떠날 수 없어!" (You can’t leave.) America said again, sound more panicked. I was worried now. America did would like he was having a nightmare, although, without understanding him, I didn't know what. Could be about the 1860s, that event that England, America, and his children wanted to keep secret? Was it about another traumatic event America faced?

"Confederacy no!" America cried out once more, this time I was able to understand him. Who was Confederacy, and what was America saying no about? Did this have something to do with the 1860s. I heard crying and saw that America had woken up, and was hugging himself, while softly crying.

"Ame?" I asked. America looked up at me, before buying his face in his knees, which he had pulled up to his chest.

"Mon fils..." I said before sitting on the bed next to America, giving him a hug. America turned his face into my shoulder and began crying into it, while hugging me back, seeming desperate for a source of comfort.

This sort of vulnerability was something I had never seen from America. While he was still close with me and the rest of our family, he never showed any extreme sadness or fear. Nothing close to the levels I had seen over the last couple of days. Not showing signs of experiencing negative emotions beyond little incidents was probably a red flag I should of seen sooner.

America had hid his negative emotions from the world, from his family, trying to project an image that he was okay, and fine. As I held my sobbing son, crying over a nightmare from an event I knew nothing about, I saw that the image he projected didn't show what he was really like.

America hid important parts of himself from everyone.

But why did he find that necessary?

Why didn't he think he could trust others with the most vulnerable parts of himself?

I didn't have an idea. America's life since his independence always seemed full of conflicts. Maybe it had something to do with that. Maybe it had something to do with his independence. The only person who knew for sure was America.

And I don't think he was going to be telling anyone his reasons.

#secret states by weird #weird’s wattpad stories #countryhumans #statehumans #writing

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desiraypark · 4 years

Text

Crowning (16) - Final

"Lightsaber”

Previous (“Highness”) Much Needed Assistance | Crowning Next Up: Skywalker (Third and Final Installment) Word Count: 2,149 Content: Violence; murder; death/death mention TW; mention of a person’s death (and their disability) used to mentally taunt a loved one; mass murder (mentioned) TW; depression TW

Kylo whirled back around, noting that the Stormtrooper was gone.

“Don’t follow me,” he said to ER, who typically kept yards of distance between them. ER-001 nodded and stood behind, and Kylo turned down a short hallway, where the suspicious trooper was standing. He took large strides toward him and closed the space between them.

“What have you done?”

He heard him swallow. “Nothing, Emperor.”

Kylo stepped close to him and pressed him against the wall. “Are you sure you want to play dumb with me?”

Shallow breaths emanated from the trooper’s helmet. Then, Kylo tilted his head. The trooper tried to grab something behind him--nothing was there but the wall. Final Order staff walked by the scene and kept walking--wanting nothing to do with what was going on.

“Okay, okay!” he cried.

Kylo released his mental grip on the young man and let him catch his breath. The man looked to his left, then his right.

“The mission on Tourma. It didn’t go how you’ve been told, Sir…”

He looked to his left and right again, and Kylo rolled his eyes. “Let’s walk.”

Kylo walked back down the hallway and out into the long corridor.

“I don’t think this is walk and talk information, your Eminence…”

“Talk before I kill you,” Kylo said, looking straight ahead.

____________________

“You four have been assigned the Tourma mission…” General Pryde said with a little inquiry in his tone. He stood before four Stormtroopers in his living space: IA-222, IB-323, BA-4178, and IN-283.

“Yes, Sir,” they answered.

Pryde nodded and began to pace. “Do any of you remember your families?”

All four shook their heads. “No, Sir…”

“I can get access to your families. Your home planets, at least. We keep that information. For research purposes,” Pryde said.

“General Pryde promised us extra credits and information about our home planets if we turned on Captain Undilla and killed her. We landed in Tourma and went to the academy in plain clothes, pretending to be potential recruits. Then, we attacked them--the academy. We killed them all. We gave them little chance to fight…”

“And...we came back to Exegol, Sir…”

Kylo silently took in the information, then abruptly stopped in front of IN-283.

“I never approached you and you never told me this information,” he said.

“You never approached me and I never told you this information,” IN-283 repeated.

Kylo walked away from the Stormtrooper and continued with his day. ____________________

One Month Later

You and Tima paced the floor with babies over your shoulders--Vaeda over yours and Karlos over hers--lightly patting the babies’ backs. Your eyes met Tima’s and the two of you smiled at each other.

“What an incredible sight,” she said. You chuckled.

“Who would have thought?”

“My best friend, Empress. Me holding my Prince,” she said. “I never would have imagined this.”

“How do you think I feel?”

Tima scoffed and shook her head. “I couldn’t dare to imagine.”

Suddenly, the blast doors flew open and Kylo walked in.

“Leave us,” he said to Tima.

“Oh, I…” Tima scrambled to put the baby down.

“She’s burping the baby, Kylo.”

Kylo rushed to Tima, and she instinctively took a few steps back. He slowed himself and gently took Karlos from her arms. Then, he took the towel from her shoulder and tossed it over his own. “Leave us, please.”

“Yes, Sir,” Tima said. She rushed toward the door. “See ya.”

“See you later,” you said. You watched Tima walk out the door and whirled around in Kylo’s direction.

“She speaks too casually to you,” he said.

“She’s only my best friend, Kylo,” you said, rolling your eyes. He began patting Karlos’ back, eyes never leaving you.

“Why did you come storming in here like a TIE silencer?” you asked.

He paused. “I’ll tell you when we finish this.”

“You can tell me now, Love.”

“No. I can’t,” he said firmly.

You recognized something different in him. He was angry about something, but that wasn’t all. Fear was in his eyes. You got Vaeda to burp first, and Karlos eventually did the same. Then, the two of you placed the babies in their cribs.

Kylo stared at them with blank, questioning eyes. You rubbed his shoulder.

“What do you need to tell me?”

He looked into your eyes, then took your hand--guiding you to the sofa in the living space. He sat you down and returned his eyes to yours.

“Your brother and sister are dead,” he said.

Your eyebrows furrowed. You felt like someone had punched you in the gut. “What?”

“Etoran and Eden were killed. Two months ago.”

Your eyes fluttered and welled with tears. You shook your head left and right.

“Two months ago?” you asked, your voice cracking.

He placed his hand on your knee but you shoved it away.

“What do you mean two months ago?!”

“I didn’t want the information to harm you or the children,” Kylo said.

You backed away from him, butt rising and falling in a new section of the sofa, “Oh, fuck you.”

He just stared at you. Body stiff, but eyes empathetic. But you didn’t care. He could shed a tear and fall to his knees before you and you wouldn’t care. You kept shaking your head, trying to process the information.

“How?!” you asked.

He averted his eyes, then returned them to your face. “I will tell you but you can’t interrupt me.”

Your body temperature rose and you flew close to him again. “What do you mean I can’t interrupt you, fuck you!” you shouted, beating his chest with your fists. He grabbed your hands and held you still. Then, you fell into his chest and sobbed.

“After the wedding, we found out that major weapons and vehicles were showing up in the Western Reaches. Final Order designs...Dorcas was a spy.”

You sat up. “You already told me all of this, Kylo, what does this have to do with my brother and sister?!”

“He described the designs in coded messages and sent them to Jedha. A messenger would take them to Tourma, where your brother founded an academy...”

Suddenly, you were back in Tourma, seated before your brother at the kitchen table, where he talked about starting a school.

“He named it the Tourma Expansion Academy, but it was secretly a headquarters for rebellion...” Kylo paused to gauge your current state. “Your other brother and sister designed and built the weapons based on Dorcas’ descriptions. Then, they would perfect the blueprints and send them to other organizations throughout the Western Reaches.”

“My other brother?” you asked, confused. That was all you took from what Kylo said.

“I’ve learned that he was not there when your other siblings died.”

You pulled your hands out of Kylo’s grip and stared down at your fingers.

“I sent Undilla on a mission to imprison members of the academy. Your siblings and other head staff were to be brought here. The students would be sent to prisons throughout the territory, along with other rebels...”

You just shook your head again. “Tori and Eden are dead. Tori and Eden are dead...”

“Pryde bribed the Stormtroopers who were sent on the mission into kill Undilla. Then, they killed everyone inside the school.”

You stared at Kylo--your vision blurry.

“And you waited two months to tell me this?” you asked again.

“You did not need to hear of this while pregnant, my Love,” he said.

“STOP DECIDING THINGS FOR ME!” you shouted. You stood up and stormed to the bedroom. Then, the babies began to cry. Before plopping down on the bed, you turned around and walked back into the foyer, where they were. Kylo was already reaching down for Vaeda, and you picked up Karlos and shushed him.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” you whispered in his hear. Kylo only rubbed Vaeda’s back.

“Pryde is in prison. If you wish to face him before his execution, I will take you,” he said.

“What about the Stormtroopers?” you asked. You sniffled.

“They’re already dead.”

You shook your head. “You shouldn’t have harmed them. They had no choice. They never have.”

Tears streamed down your cheeks and the pain stung you again. With Vaeda in your arms, you sank to the floor and sobbed.

____________________

“As I told your husband, even in his death, I only serve the Emperor. The true Emperor,” Pryde hissed.

You and Kylo stood over the General--stripped of his uniform and medals and patches. One of the holding unit’s guards stood outside the cell behind you, as ER-001 waited outside.

“The Final Order was at risk of another rebellion. Ren...” he said, pointing at Kylo, “...wanted to be pleasant for your sake. His scanty, Tourmian, secretary bride--”

Kylo reached for his saber, but you placed your hand over his.

“So I did what needed to be done. What the true Emperor, would have done.”

You felt as if you’d left your body. Like you were floating. Waves rose and fell between your ears. You turned around and walked out of the cell, Kylo following behind on your left.

“If it weren’t for that wheelchair,” Pryde said. You froze. “Your brother could have had a fighting chance. I was told that he had a lot of fire in him.”

You looked down at Kylo’s hip, and you felt him looking down at you. Self-manufactured images of your siblings being murdered flickered in your head, and you yanked Kylo’s lightsaber from his holster. Then, you stared at the hilt, found the activation stud, and turned it on. You turned to face the cell.

“Open it back up,” you told the guard.

He paused, probably looking at Kylo. Kylo must have gestured behind you. For the guard opened the cell. You walked toward the General--illuminating your path, his face, and yours with an angry blood red.

“You don’t have it in you, Empress,” Pryde taunted. “You’re just--”

Eeeernkkrrrrrthumpkrrrrrrrr…

You stood over General Pryde’s body. Steam rose from his neck. The lightsaber crackled in your hand and warmed your leg. Pryde’s head was to the right of his body, the left of your feet. Suddenly, you felt your soul and your body connect--reuniting in one chaotic mess. Your hand started to shake as you stared at the sight before you--the heat of the blade get closer to your leg every time your hand wavered. Suddenly, you felt a tug at your hand.

Krrrrrrreeern…

The cell returned to its natural color, the red glow gone and the right side of your body cool again. You turned back around and took large strides out of the holding unit--through the main door and past ER-001. The skirt of your deep purple nightgown floated behind you with each step. Kylo rushed behind you and ER wasn’t far behind.

“Y/N,” Kylo called behind you.

“Leave me alone,” you whimpered, taking faster steps. ____________________

The weeks dragged by. You rarely left your bedroom--but kept Vaeda and Karlos at your bedside. All you did--day in and day out--was address their cries and crawl back into bed. But you never slept. You just replayed Pryde’s death in your head--and the visual of Tori and Eden’s deaths. Their funerals. Kylo would eat dinner alone, but he started cooking breakfast and lunch for you. He even used some of your herbs to make a tea. He didn’t bother asking which ones to use. The concoctions soon became silently welcomed surprises.

Finally, Kylo’s patience was gone. He burst into the bedroom one evening with something shiny in his hand.

“Get up,” he demanded.

You groaned and turned your back to him. “Leave me alone.”

“I said get up,” he repeated.

You pulled the covers up over your face and heard his footsteps travel around the bed to face you. You expected him to rip the covers off your face, but instead, heard a:

Eeeerrrrnnnnnnn!

You pulled the covers off your face. The entire bedroom was aglow with a dark purple. Kylo stood in the middle of the floor with a lightsaber designed just like his. Then, he walked toward you with it.

“That’s pretty. Have fun with it,” you said sarcastically. You turned onto the other side, noticing the babies were awake and both looking around at the ceiling.

“It’s yours,” Kylo said.

You turned back to face him and he turned the blades off. He held the saber out to you.

“Whether you like it or not, Sweet Girl. You are the Empress of the galaxy,” he growled. “I will teach you how to protect yourself, and our children, if ever I’m not around.”

He leaned down and got eye level with you.

“And as the most powerful being in the galaxy, I am not asking this of you. I am telling you.”

Kylo’s eyes nearly burned your flesh. You looked down at the weapon, placed your hand underneath Kylo’s fist, and took your lightsaber. From his hand. _____________________ TAG LIST @aloneandsleepless @iamasithprincess

#crowning

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tsukishima44 · 5 years

Text

Promise Me

"Abeno!"

"Abeno-san!!"

Zenko and Ashiya rushed to their friend's body, lying on the grass. Zenko stood beside Ashiya, while the employee tried to rouse his employer with no avail.

or the missing scene from episode 8 of Fukigen no Mononokean (SPOILER ALERT)

"Abeno!"

"Abeno-san!!"

Zenko and Ashiya rushed to their friend's body, lying on the grass. Zenko stood beside Ashiya, while the employee tried to rouse his employer with no avail. His face was pale with worry for his collapsed friend. With trembling hands Ashiya placed the tip of his fingertips to Abeno's neck, hoping to feel the thud of a pulse. He didn't care if Abeno complained about his cold and sweaty hands. He would even be happy his usually cold employer scold him. He wasn't used to seeing Abeno in his vulnerable state like this.

After several minutes, his numb-from-stress fingers finally felt Abeno's sign of life. Ashiya gave a sounding sigh which gave his other friend a big relieve too. Then Ashiya and Zenko looked at each other and nodded. They knew what to do.

-chapter break-

"Please be careful"

She said as Ashiya jostled Abeno's body on his back and tighten his gripped on the blonde's thights.

"I will. I am sorry I can't send you home, Zenko"

"It's not a problem, Hanae. Abeno's health is much more important right now"

Ashiya turned his head back a little bit to see a tuft of yellow natural hair tickled his cheek.

"You are right" he smiled sadly.

"Are you going to miss school tomorrow?"

"We will, if Abeno-san's health doesn't improve in a ni- No, I will make him take a rest"

Zenko smiled in understanding.

"Okay, I will come to your home tomorrow"

Ashiya hummed.

"Alright, I will see you tomorrow, Hanae. Please be careful on your way home."

Ashiya nodded since he couldn't wave back at his friend. When he could no longer see Zenko, he turned back and started walking back to his home. Mojya strutting beside him. Every 10 steps, the fluffy youkai turned to see its employer's body.

A sigh left Ashiya's lips.

"I just wish he would tell us, you know"

Mojya tilted his body, confusion painted its face

"Abeno-san's work, I mean. I thought... I really thought that I was dependable enough. Apparently I am not there yet"

His eyes gazed to the earth along his path.

He wished he could be trusted by Abeno. He wished he could be strong enough to help Abeno. He was a fool to believe it.

He wondered what he should do to gain Abeno's trust enough?

"Nghh...."

A groan sounded from behind Ashiya.

Ashiya's feet halted.

"Abeno-san??"

The head on his right shoulder moved. Then a face appeared below it.

"A-shiya?"

"Are you okay, Abeno-san?"

His answer came with a head thumping back to his shoulder and another groan.

"I want to sleep"

His voice muffled on Ashiya's festival's clothe.

Ashiya gave a small laugh. That's his employer alright. With a knew fervor, Ashiya starting to walk again.

"Where are we going? Put me down. I can walk by myself"

Abeno asked when Ashiya didn't say anything else. His answers came with Ashiya's arms tightening themselves.

"My house"

"Ashi-"

"And no you are not allowed to decline"

Abeno startled at the sudden break and strict tone his usually silly employee has. That was not how Ashiya used to talk and he wondered whether he did something wrong.

"You had just collapsed, Abeno-san. Collapse. That's because you summon the door twice, wasn't it?"

Abeno shutted up. Their journey stopped, now resume.

"I just....I just wish you would tell me, you know"

Abeno completely understood what it meant. He didn't know what to say. So he did what he thought was right.

"I am sorry"

Ashiya was completely silent, bringing an awkward silence around them. Not even mojya did anything other than trotting forward. The atmosphere was tense while the cicadas singing behind them. Until-

"Promise me"

Abeno looked up to Ashiya's nape.

"What?"

"Promise me that you will tell me if we have another work. You might think that I am still afraid of the Executive. I do. But if it was between your health and my fear, I will always choose your health. So please, tell me. I will help you as much as I can"

If Ashiya could see him, Abeno would deny that his eyes had widen comically and he might look stupid. But since Ashiya couldn't he took his time to think about it.

"-even if I might not be much of a help"

Ashiya added sheepishly

"Afterall, I am the employee of the Mononokean and Abeno-san is my employer"

Abeno smiled.

It seemed like he chose his employee wisely.

"Okay" he said " I promise you"

Abeno didn't need to see to know Ashiya was smiling happily.

"Thank you, Abeno-san"

-chapter break-

Ashiya had been cautious, extra cautious. After a little bit of heart to heart with his employee happened in their way back home, with a good ending, Abeno literally fell back to sleep in 5 seconds. Ashiya hummed lightly all the way to his home with mojya by his side dancing along to his hum.

When they gotten near, Ashiya realized that the light was off. He had expected it. His mom was the greatest mom ever in his dictionary. She didn't let her sadness from her husband missing suddenly caught up with her life. The petite woman immediately searched work here and there and managed to maintain their family's life. All this time and she didn't complain or grumble about it. She also didn't left her post as Ashiya's mom too. Everyday she always saw him out with a smile.

'I really have a great mom' he thought. Her mother pain and effort brought tears to his eyes.

Mojya, suddenly heard of its friend sniffed, quickly snuggled to Ashiya's ankle.

Ashiya realized it and the initial tears was blinked away.

"I am fine, mojya! Sorry to make you worry"

Mojya wasn't entirely convinced, but nodded regardless.

"Now ssshhhh. We have to be silent or mom ia going to wake up"

As he said it, the gate of his house had creacked loudly, making his body startled in reaction. Coincidentally, Abeno's body in his back also jostled and Ashiya had chant sutras in hoping Abeno didn't wake up.

".......hmn"

As a result the blonde hummed but resumed his sleep. Seemed like he was bone deep tired.

Ashiya sighed.

Then with one arm holding Abeno's body, the man was quite light despite his figure, he used the key to open the door. Again, the door made a creack which was quite loud in the silent of the night.

He stopped. Ears trying to catch any hint of his mom awaken, not like his mom a light sleeper. But one should always be on his guard.

When his ears heard nothing, he asked mojya to closed the door and slowly they walked. As they were about to pass the living room, just a couple feet and they would be saved, almost uncaught by his eyes he saw a vague black figure right beside the light switch.

Ashiya stopped. His whole body trembled. Cold sweat starting to drenched his clothes.

'Please don't let it be a ghost, please don't let it be a ghost, please don't it be a ghost' his mind looped it again and again and again.

Slowly, miniculesly, he turned his head.

And suddenly-

"Boo!"

"AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHGGGG!!!"

The light was turned on and there stood his mother in her pajamas and home slipper. A smile caught in her lips fondly.

"Ahahahah, Hanae. You are still such a scaredy cat"

"Mooooooommmm"

He groaned.

Apparently the figure was none other than his mom.

"What were you doing in the dark? A-and it's midnight!"

"Don't you use midnight excuse, young man! I was worried because you haven't come back home and you didn't send me any message either. So I'm sorry if I am worried about my own son and where is your uniform and- oh my. Is that your friend?"

As his mother mentioned this, Ashiya finally acknowledge the body on his back has been squirming to be put down.

Ashiya internally apologized and complied to his employee's silent request.

"I am sorry for disturbing you, ma'am. I'm-"

Abeno's word slurred as the man's body sway. Ashiya immediately propped the blonde's body to lean on his.

"I-is he okay? Sick? Hanae, let him sleep on your bed first!"

"A-ah yes!"

Shocked and confused from the sudden onslaught order, Ashiya carried Abeno in a bridal carry and laid him carefully on his bed.

Not a second later, his mom came in with a varient things she placed here and there and everywhere.

After that....

BEEP! BEEP! BE-

"Oh, it seemed like you don't have a fever. But your pallor still doesn't look good. So please take a rest tonight while your clothes are being washed right now. If you need anything, please ask Hanae. I will leave you both now, have a good night"

THUD!

Silence was the only thing left and two figure stunned to the spot

"You have a good mother"

Right at that time, Ashiya didn't know whether it was a compliment or not.

"What should we do with these?"

He gestured to all things brought into Ashiya's room. There was bucket with warm water plus a small towel on the floor, a variety of medicine on the desk, a bowl of ochazuke and a glass of water, a vase of flower, and on top of the bed was Abeno almost engulfed by 5 blankets and a cooling pad on his temple. It was definitely too much for a man whose problem was tired.

Ashiya sighed

"Let me get everything away"

The employer started to put unnecessary things back to where it belongs. Since it was his house, he didn't need much time to fumble with everything.

When he went back, the only things left is the food and drink, the vase, and two piece of blanket - one for him and one for Abeno.

Then he placed a futon on the floor and readied himself for sleep. He went back with his pajamas and a towel handing on his shoulder for his hair. When he got inside, he was confused that the light has been turned off. His eyes also lingered on the empty bowl and glass and his employee's body was turned on his side, so the back faced with Ashiya. But there was no soft snore to indicate that Abeno had already slept. The bluenette chuckled and settled on his makeshift bed.

"Goodnight, Abeno-san"

"Night"

Ashiya went to sleep with a smile.

#fukigen na mononokean #abeshiya #abeno haruitsuki #ashiya hanae #abeno x ashiya #fujiwara zenko #spoilers #episode 8

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snow-pitch-grimm · 4 years

Text

Boys In Love

Summary: Simon wears a pink eyeliner while Baz paints his nails glittery black. Simon likes to make flower arrangements while Baz paints demons.

Still, it doesn't mean they can't match in every way that matters

Note: This is supposed to be for the Pastel prompt but I very loosely followed. This is just an excuse to write two boys in love.

SIMON

I look in the mirror and adjust my curls, then I inspect my nails. They're pink and the polish is still impeccable.

Perfect.

There's a knock behind me and turn to see my mother standing at my door.

"Almost ready, love?" she asks

"Yeah," I say

"Feeling a little bold today," she says

I smile and look back in the mirror to inspect my face full of make-up, complete with light blue eyeliner and baby pink lipstick.

"Felt like that kind of day," I say

"Well," she says, "You look quite nice. I'm sure a certain someone will appreciate it,"

"He's very biased," I tell her but her words still make me feel giddy from happiness.

She gives me a knowing look.

"Well, Happy Valentines Day, love," she says, "Now let's hurry before you're late for school,"

"Okay Mum," I say, taking one last look in the mirror.

I do look lovely

BAZ

I watch myself in the mirror as I put on my choker. It's made of black leather and has a glittery butterfly in the middle.

It's also new.

I head downstairs to where I can hear my family getting their breakfast.

"Bazzy," Cry out the twins at once

"Octavia. Victoria. Good morning," I say, giving them both a kiss on the forehead

"Morning Mother," I say as I give a kiss to baby Collin

He only babbles in response

Daphne smiles and hands me pancakes with a heart made on top.

"Happy Valentines Day," says

"Thank you," I say, "Where are Father and Mordelia?"

"Mordelia's Valentines Day surprise," she tells me

"Ah," I say. That made sense

I'm on my second pancake when My father and Mordelia come in, arms full flowers, cards, and chocolate.

"Happy Valentines Day," She cries with all the energy of a six-year-old can muster.

We all get a chocolate heart each, one rose, and one card. Daphne gets a bouquet of nine roses from my Father. Some old traditions I never asked about.

My father finally notices the shocker and raises an eyebrow.

"Is that new?" he asks

I nod.

"Did I pay for it?"

"Two of them actually, I bought Niall one too," I say, "Don't worry I didn't go over my monthly limit,"

Father had a monthly limit set out for me. Something about learning money management.

"Well, it looks nice," he says

I smile, remembering the first time I had tried on the getup I was wearing right now. His eyes had pretty much fallen out of his head.

"Are you looking pretty for Simon?" asks Mordelia, "Show me,"

I get up to do a spin for her, showing off my black jeans, combat boots, and my dress-like shirt with fishnet sleeves.

"I'm looking pretty for me," I tell her, "And if Simon appreciates it, it's just an added bonus,"

She just hums in response and goes back to her pancakes.

"Are you doing anything with Simon tonight?" Daphne asks

"We're going to a festival after school," I tell her, "I'll be home a few hours before dinner,"

"Lovely," she says, "You should go before you're late,"

I nod, drinking up the last of my tea.

Grabbing my keys, I head out of the door.

SIMON

Penny is waiting for me at the steps of the school, her purple hair twisted in a messy bun.

"Well, looks like Agatha's lessons really worked. Your make-up looks amazing,"

"Oh thanks," I say, "I got up early to do it,"

"Putting in the extra effort on Valentine's Day, " she teases

"I also did my make-up on my birthday, Penny, and for Christmas," I say

"Fair point," she says, "Oh look, Baz is here,"

I turn around and sure enough. Baz just pulled up in the parking lot.

I watch him as he gets out of his car, right along with Dev and Niall.

He looks as beautiful as ever. Even from here I can tell his mascara is making his eyes pop. He has purple lipstick on and I can see his muscle through his sleeves.

God, I love his arms.

He looks up and his eyes lock with mine. I nearly melt when he smiles at me.

God, he's beautiful.

"You are so gone on him," says Penny, "Go, I'm gonna go find Shep,"

I nod and make my way down the stairs.

BAZ

My breath catches in my throat as I spot Simon.

He's the epitome of beauty as he walks toward me.

Behind me, I can hear Dev and Bial snickering about me being lovesick.

But I don't care.

My boyfriend is wonderfully lovely.

"Hi, Baz," he says, with a blinding smile, "Happy Valentine's Day,"

"Happy valentine's day, Darling," I say, pulling him in, "You look beautiful,"

He blushes and is about to respond when someone clears their throat behind us.

Right. Dev and Niall. Forgot about them.

"What do you two want?" I snarl at them

"It's impolite to snog in front of your best friends," says Niall with an impish grin

I'm about to retort but Simon lets out a chuckle, slipping his hand into mine.

"Sorry guys," he says, "You guys have a ride for after school, right? We're going to go to the festival right after your football practice,"

Dev and Nial instantly smile, and I swear I can see hearts in their eyes. Yeah, Simon has that effect on people.

"Yeah," says Niall, "My mum's picking us up,"

"Good," he says as we turn to leave, "Oh and Dev, I like your nails,"

Dev smiles and says thanks.

I pout, "My nails are painted the same way,"

He smiles, "I was just being nice Baz. I always like your nails best. Cause they're yours,"

My heart melts.

I have a lovely boyfriend.

SIMON

We don't have morning classes together but I do get to see him at lunch.

It's Valentine's Day so we planned on having lunch together, just the two of us.

I make my way to the music room and find him in there, sitting on the carpet and, for once, not practicing his violin. Instead, he's drawing.

"Hey," I say, "What's that?"

He smiles and turns the sketchbook. It's a drawing of wolf demon feeding on a deer in the moonlight.

It's both beautiful and terrifying at the same time.

"Wonderfully done," I tell him

And I mean it. I might not understand the subject matter, just like he doesn't understand my obsession with flowers (I work at Ebb's shop. I love it) but he has a wonderful talent.

"Come sit," he says, patting the space beside him

I sit down and we take out our lunch. Halfway through, he laces our hands together (he's left-handed).

I look down and observe them. Mine are pale with nails done in pink. He has brown skin, with a skull ring and his nails a sparkling black.

They look lovely together.

BAZ

After school is our football breakfast.

I have to take off my make-up for that. I don't usually wear a lot. Just a bit of mascara. Sometimes some lip gloss and eyeliner but I still have to take if off if I want to avoid it running down my face.

Simon is watching me as I run around the field.

I'm not ashamed to admit, I show off a little whenever he's watching.

Dev and Niall always tease me about it.

As if they're any better. Niall once walked into a wall after his crush smiled at him.

After practice, and after I've showered, I find Simon in front of the locker room waiting for me.

He smiles at me and holds out his hand.

"Ready?"

I smile back and take it. I always want to smile around him.

We walk back to my car and when I get there, he pulls out the make-up bag I keep in my car.

"Can I?" he asks

I nod.

He takes out some mascara and lipgloss and applies it to me gently (Gentle. He's always so gentle with me)

He also pulls out some eyeliner, his this time. It's purple.

"Do you mind?" he asks again

"If you think it'll look good..." It might as well be permission

"It will," he says.

I look in the mirror when I'm done. He was right, I do look good.

SIMON

After I' done his make-up, Baz pulls the car out of the lot and we're on the road.

Its a pretty day, and there's minimal traffic. I keep the windows down and watch the air make Baz's hair fly around while I hold his hand.

BAZ

Simon holds my hand as I drive.

I know he would hold my hand all the time if I asked me to.

The knowledge makes me feel warm.

SIMON

We start with the rides.

We whoop on the fast ones and snog on the Ferris wheel.

Later, Baz buys me cotton candy.

BAZ

I hate cotton candy but Simon loves. I don't get it. It's just sugar.

We get some more snacks and afterwards, Simon tugs me to the games.

I try to tell him they're rigged but he insists.

"I'm gonna win you something!"

And what do you know, he does end up winning me something.

A plush cat as big as my pillow.

"Thank you, Simon," I tell him

I end up buying him a heart-shaped cushion later.

SIMON

Baz gives me a long kiss when he drops me off to my house.

My mum is waiting for me and she smiles when she sees me.

"Nice look she says," I look in the mirror and sure enough, my lips tik is smeared.

"Well," I say, blushing a little, "I had fun. He got met this,"

She looks at the heart and grins.

"He's a lovely boyfriend,"

"He really is," I tell her

BAZ

I step inside and am instantly greeted by my sisters, all asking me questions about my date.

Where do a six-year-old and two four-year-olds even get these questions? I honestly don't know.

Daphne finally comes along and saves me from them.

"Hello, Baz," she says with a mischievous smile, "Your hair is looking great,"

I look in the mirror at our entrance and I see that it's sticking in a few different directions.

Ah, yes. Simon likes to tug at it.

"What can I say?" I tell her with a cheeky smile, "I had a wonderful time,"

"So it seems," she says, "I'm glad,"

"Thank you, Mother,"

SIMON

We're lying in the sitting room after dinner. Mum is speaking to my Grandmother on the phone and I'm looking at new flower arrangements to try.

I find one particular one that makes me smile.

I screenshot it and sent it to Baz.

Something to have at our wedding!

If nothing else it'll amuse him.

BAZ

"How come you didn't go out tonight?" Ias k my parents once my siblings have been put to bed.

They look at each other and Daphne smile, "When you're been together for as we have sometimes, it's nice to just stay. It makes the adventures a lot more fun if they're rare. Anyway, big fancy Valentine's Day dinners aren't my thing. I have all the love I need right here, in this house,"

It's a nice sentiment and I wonder if Simon and I will be that kind of married couple one day. Happy to spend the night sipping wine in each other's company.

My phone rings and I pick it up to see who it is.

Simon has sent me a picture. It's a bouquet with bright pink flowers and black lilies.

The caption makes me grin wide.

"What's got you smiling like that?" asks my father

"Oh, nothing. Simon just sent me the centrepieces we're going to have at our wedding,"

Daphne looks up alarmed while my father chokes on his drink.

"Don't worry," I tell them, after letting them stew a little, "It's not happening for another ten years,"

I have never seen my father look so relieved.

SIMON/BAZ

I love him so much.

#snowbaz #coc 2019 #simon snow #tyrannus basilton grimm pitch

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thisartemisnevermisses · 4 years

Text

Freefall 3/-

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warning: angst, fluff, romance, adventure, reconciliation, cursing, anxiety.

Summary:

After the events of ‘Going Under’ you start a new life in Tokyo. Realizing those events changed you in more than one way. You’re not just the nice analyzer girl, you take life in your own hands again. Only to be pulled back into the rabbit whole.

After almost 2 years the Avengers call upon your help. Recapturing the one person that made your life a living hell. Going on a manhunt, or more likely woman hunt, with the one person you hoped to leave behind for good. Will things spark again between the two of you or are you as cold as ice?

A/N: The story is evovling, just two more chapters and their will be full on fluff and some mild smud in further chapters.

Looking at the paper mess before you, you sigh, how in the world would you find the needle in this paper stack. How was it possible for Sharon to gather so much information, knowing that the Raft was a fortress, supposedly impenetrable. Yet she had managed to gather information about ancient myths. What was she searching for, what was her plan, why was she in Morocco. With every box you opened, another question was added, this was something you didn’t miss as analyzer, finding that freakin’ piece of the puzzle. Standing with your hands on top of your head, trying to relax the muscles in your back, you hear a manly chuckle. Looking at the door opening, you see Steve standing there, leaning against the doorframe.

“I missed that signature stand of yours”, he smiles pushing himself of the doorframe, walking into the room. “You were near a breakthrough when you stood like that”, he stops before you, crossing his arms. “Well, hate to disappoint you, but I’m not near a breakthrough. It’s been 2 years since I last analyzed something, I’ve been a field agent since my arrival in Sendai”, turning away from Steve, not seeing the question in his face. Starting to rummage through a new pile of papers, your eyes catch the notes to her escape plan. Reading the first lines, realizing that getting Steve there was her plan all along, you turn towards him. “What did she whisper into your ear?” you ask him, squeezing your eyes, “Say what?” Steve asks not registering your question. “What did Sharon whisper in your ear, before she took off with Rumlow?” you ask him again. “I..I can’t remember. My head was pounding, I was disorientated, I..was..worried about…you”, he answers avoiding your eyes. “Steve please, try to remember, it could be important”, you urge, hopefully he could remember what she had told him. “y/n, I..wish I could, but my memories are shredded, I barely remember going to the Raft”, Steve replies, regret and pain in his eyes. How he wished he could help you, could tell you what she had said to him. “I know there’s footage of her escape, but you can’t hear what she says”, he adds. “Are her lips visible?” you ask, looking at Steve, hope in your eyes. “I don’t know, why?” Steve looks at you, were you going mad? Why did you want to see her lips?

“Friday, where are Agent Strong and Star?” you ask the IA, “There in the com room, Agent y/n”, it replies. “Could you connect me to the room, please”, you wait, while you get connected with the com room. “Star here”, you hear Lexi say. “Hey, Lexipedia, do me a favor and look at the footage of the Raft. I want to know if Sharon’s lips are visible”, you ask her. Hearing only silence from the other side, “Lexi, you still there?”, you await her answer, getting nervous by the minute. “Yeah, still here, I’m looking at the footage, lips are visible, why?” Lexi asks, not knowing your intention. “Are they still visible when she is with Steve?” asking, excitement in your voice, looking at Steve. “Yeah, again why?”, Lexi asks, the question ringing in her voice. “Lexi, I’ll come to you. Thank you Friday, end call”, you say jogging out of the room. Steve soon follows, catching up with you he sees a wide grin on your face. “Care to enlighten me?”, he ask continuing your pace. Your eyes sparkle with victory, “I know someone who can read lips”, you smile, seeing the realization in Steve’s face, you only nod for agreeing the unspoken thought of Steve.

Arriving in the com rom, you get a questioning look from Lexi. “Lexi please call the following number”, letting her look on the display of your phone, “Put it on speaker and make sure you have that footage ready for transfer”, you add, waiting for the phone to ring.

“Moshi, Moshi”, a raspy and tired voice speaks. “Ohayo Tai, Soreha y/n. Gomen’nasai, Anata O samasu tame ni (sorry for waking you),” you speak, knowing he’s going to scold you. “Oi y/n, Ima wa itsudesuka (you know what time it is)”, Tai growls, you hear him sitting up in his bed. “Gomen Gomen Tai, kinkyudesu, Gomen. Eigo de hanashimashou? (sorry, it’s urgent. Let’s converse in English)” you say, “Chimy ga anata o rikai dekiru yõ ni (so the team can understand you)”, explaining to him hoping he would cooperate. Tai wasn’t a person to be waked early and asked to do his job in an instant. “Robotto, you owe me one”, he replies in English, Calli and Lexi simultaneous mouthing robotto and raising their hands questiongly. Whispering a later you continue talking to Tai. “I know I waked you really early, but please could you do me a favor. You can read lips, right?” asking him, while you start pacing around. “Yeah, it’s fucking 3 a.m. here and yes, why do you ask, you already know that”, he replies grumpy. “Listen Lexi will send you an encrypted file, there’s no audio and we really need to know what the blond woman says. The most important part are the last 3 minutes of the footage”, you explain, while Lexi encrypts the file and e-mails it. “Wait a sec, I need to go to my computer”, Tai answers and you hear him pick up his phone and stumble towards his desk. “Got it….y/n is that who I think it is?”, you hear the surprise in his voice, “Yes Tai, but please concentrate, I need to know what she says to him”, rolling with your eyes, your Japanese analyzer was a huge Captain America fan. With every minute the silence grew and your anxiety too. It was too quiet at the other end of the line, that made you begin to doubt his ability to read lips, preferable her lips. After a 10 minutes or so, you couldn’t stand the silence, “Tai? Everything okay?” you ask careful. “hmm, just looking at the footage one more time.” He answers absentmindedly. “Holy Shit”, you hear him say, “Tai, What is it? Please tell us, your killing me, come on”, grabbing a chair to put all your frustration in, waiting frustrated for an answer on the other line. “y/n you still there? Here comes the translation. When Cap…uhm Steve..sjees..When he’s down, she says the following, You can give your girl a message from me, Stevie. She can enjoy her happily ever after with you for now, but soon it will be my destiny to be with you. I’m going to change our fates. I’m going to make sure that our fates are entwined and with that you will never have met y/n”, Tai swallows, “y/n in what kind of a mess are you? Should I warn Makoto or Hiroto?”, concern in his voice, stifling a yawn. “No Tai, I’m fine, don’t worry I can take care of myself, beside don’t you need to go to sleep?” asking mockingly, your thoughts already analyzing the things she said. “Oi Robotto, first you want my help, know I need to go to sleep, shimata!” Tai exclaims. “Gomen Gomen, Tai, I owe you big time, domo arigato Tai”, you apologize, you knew you had to make it up to him bigtime. “y/n, you owe me a big bucket of ramen and that’s just the start. Now let me get back to sleep, I still have 3 hours of sleep to go”, Tai teases you. “I will take a note of it and as soon as I’m back, I’ll make it up to you. Good night Tai”, you laugh at the noises he makes. “Okay, now let me sleep, Good night….y/n, and please be careful”, he answers softly, as if you could only hear him. “I will Tai, bye”, swallowing the thick lump in your throat. When you left America, Tai had taken the place of Owen as the big brother person. You knew he was scared for your life, seeing he never asked you to be careful when you went on mission. With a quick bye the call had ended, the people in the room looked at you for answers. Answers you didn’t want to give right know, you had other things that had to be done.

“Okay, quick answers to your questions, no and no and NOOO!!!”, looking at Lexi and Calli both had an eyebrow raised. “So, you two don….” Calli starts, but stop when she sees you stare at her. Sighing you answer quickly, “ Tai is like Owen, a big brother to me, he and Makoto, they just took care of me. I was a mess when I started to work there and they took me in, I learned the language, the rituals and habits, they made sure I had an off switch. Not always y/n, the field agent who never sleeps, hence the robotto”, you almost shout the last part, why did you have to feel this way. All those fucking emotions were coming back, they were making everything so difficult again. Why couldn’t she just stay in that damn prison. “I just need a moment”, excusing yourself, you walk out of the com room and head for the kitchen a cup of coffee would straiten your mind.

Taking a sip of the hot liquid you close your eyes and sigh. You had to solve this, quickly, the longer you stayed here, the more you were on edge. Trying to find inner peace, your moment gets interrupted by the scrapping of Steve’s throat. “Sorry, just wanted to check if you’re okay”, a red blush on his cheeks. “I’m fine, Steve, just need a moment to myself”, you turn away from him, “It’s not easy, getting dragged into your world again. I was trying to give everything a place and know that bitch drags me right back in”, you gesture into thin air. “I had a deal with faith, I would leave love alone and faith wouldn’t test my emotions ever again. I….”, you feel a tear on the apple of your cheek, whipping it away you are surprised to see you’re crying. When you start to laugh to yourself, Steve gets worried, “You’re not okay, don’t try to fool me, y/n, come here”, Steve takes you by your arm, trying to hug you, “No, let me go”, you protest, but for the first time since long, Steve is stronger than your will. “Please Steve, let me go, just let me”, your voice cracking, the tears in your eyes ready to spill. “Please y/n, let me hold you. All those times I didn’t hold you while you needed it, just…let me hold you this once”, he begs. Slowly giving in to his hug, you hit him a few times on the chest, trying to scare him off, but he lets you. Once your complete in his grasp, you give in entirely and start to cry. Everything you held in all those years, spilling out this once, onto Steve’s uniform. He tries to ease you, rubbing your back, hugging you tighter, if only he could take everything he’d done to you back. If only you would let him in, if only it was that easy.

Both of you stand there, holding each other for an unknown time. When you’re calmed, you wipe away your tears, while Steve has still his arms around you. “y/n, I know this isn’t a good time, but when we have solved this and before you leave to Japan, could we at least have one talk?”, he asks, looking into your eyes, searching for an answer. You swallow before answering, “I don’t know. I need to think about it. Give me time okay?” your voice is hoarse from crying. “I’ll wait, won’t push”, Steve answers, letting go of you, missing the warmth of you instantly. “I guess working with a jetlag, makes you crazy, huh”, you slightly smile up to him. “Let’s get to work. I need to unravel the words, Sharon spoke. There’s a meaning behind it”, the determination in your voice gives Steve the sign he should let it rest, until this was solved. You had your mind set on getting Sharon back in the Raft and he would only complicate things now. But come time he would ask you for that talk again, he wanted a fair chance.

Walking into the com room, you ask Lexi to play the sound file from Tai again, listening with your eyes close, you listen for the words that are important. “Again”, you ask Lexi. This time certain words are more present, then others, you focus on the words destiny, change and fate. You keep repeating those words, like it’s your new mantra. Hoping it will trigger some kind of memory within you. Mentally going through all the pieces of paper you held in your hands, searching for something you’ve read and could be connected to those words. You stop pacing in the room, you didn’t even notice you had begun, “There’s a piece of paper, where did I leave it”, you mumble to yourself, realizing the solution is in the next room, you sprint out the com room, almost colliding with Steve, “Sorry, out of my way”, you apologize and demand at the same time, Steve looking confused after you, “She’s got the solution”, Lexi answers to the unspoken question on Steve’s face.

“Where’s that piece of paper, she only researched one, there’s only one mythical instrument that can change fate. Where is it”, searching through the piles of paper on the large desk. “y/n, slow down”, you hear Steve say, but you ignore his comment. Within a few steps Steve’s with you, takes you by the arms and turns you towards him. “Stop it, you’re not thinking straight”, he says looking into your eyes. “Steve, let me go, if she’s after what I think, I’m…we are in great danger.. Let go”, you demand, “No, first you need to calm down, explain your thinking to me, please”, tightening his grip on you, you realize you need to explain. You’ll find the piece of paper quicker when you look together. Breathing in and out a few time, you motion for Steve to let you go, “I’m calm”, looking at him, you continue, “If I’m right, she’s planning to change the fates of all three of us. If I’m right we need to get on that plane to Morocco as soon as possible. If she’s after what I think she’s after, it’s the Cintamani stone. The only mythical stone, capable of changing once fate, with one wish she can erase me from the timeline. Like I never existed”, you say facing Steve, seeing the realization in Steve’s face, if that was her plan, you both were screwed.

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cheshiresense · 6 years

Note

Hey, speaking of the Aizen/Ichigo time travel notfic, I just want to say I really love the way y ou write Aizen when he isn't just the villain. Like I don't even know why Im surprised, it's /you/, your characterization is always amazing. Do you think you can write a few more snippets or hcs with him and Ichigo? Maybe some interactions or convesations between them? No pressure ofc, thank you for everything youv'e already blessed us with!

Lol thank you! That’s good to hear, I always find flat characters painful to read so I do my best to round them out whenever I can. Aizen was a new one for me, this is the first time I’ve explored his character beyond - as you say - just the villain of the story that’s been defeated or needs defeating.

Here’s two more short scenes in this ’verse. I actually really like this AU, which surprises me because before this, I didn’t have any interest in writing Aizen at all.

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[Dinner]

Sousuke generously reserves a table for two at the sushi restaurant a block down from the Academy. He only has to wait ten minutes before Ichigo slouches into the seat opposite his, looking like every student who’s ever pulled three all-nighters in a row rushing for exams.

Sousuke arches an eyebrow. “I did not think the course load you are taking would be difficult for you.”

Ichigo shoots a glare at him but doesn’t seem to have the energy to hold it for longer than a few seconds before he’s slumping again and reaching for the menu instead.

“The course load is fine,” Ichigo tells him irritably. “But one of my teachers used to be Thirteenth Division and has some stupid grudge against Kaien because Ukitake-san passed him over for lieutenant even though he had a longer tenure than Kaien or something. So he’s taking it out on me by giving me extra assignments out of the blue every week. Says I’ll fail his class if I don’t do them.” He waves a dismissive hand. “I kinda wanna call his bluff, but it’s whatever, I just wanna graduate as soon as possible, and I can deal with a case of asshole. It was just a little tougher lately cuz of midterms but today was my last one anyway.”

Sousuke studies him for a careful moment. “You could mention it to your cousin. I am sure Shiba Kaien would jump to your defense, especially when he is involved.”

“Yeah, and that’s exactly why I’m not gonna tell him,” Ichigo scowls. “He’ll go charging in and kick up a huge fuss and definitely go overboard defending my honour or some shit. He’ll probably get Hisakawa fired, which I don’t really care about, but he’ll also draw a crapload of attention, and I don’t want anybody tossing words like nepotism and favouritism around. You told me yourself the Twelfth doesn’t seem to have many big clan members, and it’s not exactly a shock that Kisuke chooses people for his Division according to their intelligence. I don’t want him thinking I’m coasting by on my clan’s reputation or something, and that’s exactly what will happen if I get Kaien to step in for me for every little thing.” He pointedly sticks his menu up between them. “Now can we order already? I literally haven’t eaten anything but instant ramen in a week. I’m getting everything here since you’re paying.”

“Oh I am, am I?” Sousuke enquires dryly.

“I’m poor, deal with it.”

“I am fairly certain your clan would shower you with money if you mention that you need it,” Sousuke points out. “And nobody else would even know if you are so concerned about reputation.”

Ichigo grimaces even as he glances around to catch the waiter’s eye. “Kaien’s already giving me a stipend every month cuz I’m family but I wanna save that for an apartment when I graduate. Besides, I don’t like asking people for money.”

Sousuke gives him a flatly droll look. “And yet.”

Ichigo meets his gaze without hesitation, a smirk curling at his lips, one that teeters between gruff amusement and a reckless sort of mockery. “Consider it payment for creeping on me when I was a kid and then dragging me into a war. You almost killed me multiple times; sushi’s the least you owe me, bastard.”

They pause for a minute to place their respective orders, and neither of them speaks until the waiter is out of earshot again.

“I wonder,” Sousuke murmurs, eyeing Ichigo thoughtfully. “If you blame Urahara Kisuke for ‘dragging you into a war’ as much as you blame me.”

Ichigo snaps his chopsticks and then jabs them at him. “Kisuke apologized. You didn’t.”

“And I never will,” Sousuke agrees, because he won’t, not with any kind of sincerity, and he’s noticed that Ichigo has a knack for picking out that sort of thing. Sousuke isn’t sorry. Perhaps his ambitions and plans gave the boy very little choice in the matter, but at the end of the day, it was still Kurosaki Ichigo who chose to fight instead of bow or run away, and Sousuke can respect him enough as a former formidable enemy to give credit where it’s due.

Ichigo made his choices, just as Sousuke made his own, and they’ll both live with them just the same, good and bad.

“No,” Ichigo acknowledges easily, and Sousuke knows no one else who can say that in this situation with no anger or bitterness, just a resigned sort of acceptance as if he made his peace with this truth a long time ago. Instead, he only points his chopsticks at Sousuke again. “But that’s why you have to pay for my sushi and Kisuke doesn’t.”

Sousuke watches him for a moment longer and idly wonders if he’ll ever understand the kind of person Kurosaki Ichigo is. One day, perhaps, but at least in the meantime, he won’t be bored.

He inclines his head just as the first of their dishes arrive.

“As you say,” He acquiesces, and Ichigo flashes a grin like he’s won something important. Oddly enough, it amuses Sousuke more than anything else. But there are worse things than amusement, and for now, he lets it be.

Well, he lets that be anyway. Ichigo is a… puzzle that Sousuke probably won’t tire of putting together for a good while yet, and that suits him just fine.

On the other hand…

He steps quietly into the classroom, shutting the door behind him. The click makes the man sitting behind the desk at the front look up. “Aizen-fukutaichou? This is… unexpected. Did we have a meeting I forgot about?”

Hisakawa’s confusion is understandable. As far as Sousuke can remember, in both timelines, he’s never spoken to the other Shinigami. Hisakawa was insignificant before - sub-par intellect and mediocre strength, not good for anything but canon fodder, which Aizen had plenty of Hollows for - and he’s just as insignificant now. It’s just that he’s also making a nuisance of himself this time around, which is unfortunate for him.

“Hisakawa-sensei,” Sousuke greets with a pleasant smile as he approaches. “We do not, as far as I am aware. I simply wished to speak to you about one of our mutual students.”

“Oh, well, of course,” Hisakawa frowns quizzically. “Which student are you talking about? Is it a schedule conflict? Those should’ve been ironed out months ago though.”

Sousuke supposes the man gets points for touching on the only problem a student attending both their classes could have. Hisakawa teaches history - a core class - while Sousuke only teaches calligraphy as an elective. They don’t have much else in common.

Then again, if schedule conflicts were ironed out months ago, it obviously can’t be that, and there’s no point bringing it up. Sousuke takes it back. Hisakawa is still just as much of a waste of space as Sousuke has always believed him to be. Honestly, the hiring standards these days. If this was Shiba Kaien’s competition for the lieutenant seat, no wonder Ukitake refused to fill the position with anyone else even if it meant waiting a decade for the Shiba Clan Head to accept.

“No, it is nothing of that sort,” Sousuke agrees. “But it has come to my attention that Shiba Ichigo-kun has been receiving quite a number of… extracurricular assignments from you.”

Hisakawa immediately bristles, and a sneer slashes itself across his face. “Oh, he’s been complaining, has he?”

“He has mentioned it to me,” Sousuke says mildly.

Hisakawa snorts. “I wasn’t aware Shibas even knew calligraphy existed,” He mutters snidely before saying, louder and more patronizing, “You shouldn’t listen to him, Aizen-fukutaichou. You know how Shibas can be, they’re always exaggerating. I’m not giving Shiba more work than he needs. His history marks could use some work, and I’m trying to help. I hear he wants to graduate in a year, and he can’t do that if he fails a core class.”

Sousuke hums a considering note. “He is in danger of failing? How strange. Shiba-kun takes after his cousin, does he not? Another prodigy.”

Hisakawa’s sneer only grows more pronounced. “They give that title to any clan kid these days, it doesn’t mean anything. Trust me, Shiba’s history marks alone will probably see him here next year, especially if he’s going around whining about not getting special treatment.”

Sousuke raises an eyebrow. “I admit, I am rather surprised by that. You see, I have read some of Shiba-kun’s history papers.” He hasn’t had much of a choice. For whatever reason, Ichigo likes working in his office, and he has the strangest tendency to paper his work all over the floor. And paperwork gets boring, and Ichigo’s thought process can be… interesting, even on the most mundane topics. “I am no expert on the subject of course, but from what I could tell, his work is always thoroughly researched and well-written. Perhaps you should take another look.”

Hisakawa’s face turns steadily red, and he pushes to his feet even as he accuses, “So you think just because he has a clan backing him, he should get special treatment too! I thought better of you, Aizen-fukutaichou.”

Sousuke has to suppress a chuckle but amusement slips into his expression anyway, because Hisakawa’s features darken to something downright hostile. “His marks will stay the same. In fact, I might fail him just on principle! I didn’t think Shiba was a coward too, sending another teacher to beg a better grade out of me just because he can’t handle my class.”

Sousuke stares him down for a long unblinking moment, until Hisakawa is almost twitching from the tension stretched between them. Only when the man opens his mouth again, no doubt to splutter out something belligerent, does Sousuke sigh and drop a hand to his Zanpakutou.

“Well, I did try,” He muses, mostly to himself.

He draws his blade. Hisakawa stares and doesn’t even make a move for his own Zanpakutou. What a fool.

“Hey, what do you think you’re doing?”

“Normally,” Sousuke explains courteously. “I would not bother stepping in on behalf of a student, especially when that student would - I dare say - be rather cross with me should he find out. But we have plans to carry out, and I will not allow something so trivial to hinder them.”

Hisakawa gawps at him. How unsightly.

“You need not worry,” Sousuke adds. “You will not remember a thing.”

Finally, Hisakawa reaches for his Zanpakutou, the first blush of alarm rising in his features. “Wait, have you gone insane, Aizen? What do you think attacking me is even going to do? I- I won’t be threatened-!”

“Shatter,” Sousuke cuts him off, smiling benignly even as his reiatsu swells around them. “Kyouka Suigetsu.”

And Hisakawa’s expression goes slack as the hynosis takes hold, slithering into the deepest recesses of his mind.

“You should be honoured,” Sousuke murmurs. “This will be some of my finest work. After all, anything less and Ichigo-kun might notice. And I would rather not be scolded again.”

(This Is A Time Skip But Also Does Tumblr Not Know How To Center Shit)

[Sight]

Sousuke glances up as a shadow passes through his window before returning to his paperwork. “Shouldn’t you be working?”

A disgruntled noise answers him. “Kis- Urahara-taichou is neck-deep in a new experiment; he’s not gonna notice I’m missing for days, never mind one afternoon.”

“And you decided to come visit me?” Sousuke can’t help but find that amusing, considering their past. “How thoughtful.”

He pauses when Ichigo doesn’t snipe something back, as is fairly standard these days. He looks up. Ichigo isn’t even looking in his direction. Instead, he’s still perched on the windowsill, and his gaze is slanted to one shadowed corner above the bookshelf across the room.

“…Ichigo-kun?”

Ichigo blinks, then turns to him and hops down into the office. “Hey, so, I figured it out,” He says abruptly. His eyes flit around the room again, and Sousuke notices the way they dart from shadow to shadow before finally focusing on him again. “The seeing into their little shadow world thing.”

Sousuke straightens. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” Ichigo lifts a hand, and pale blue light sparks off his fingertips.

Sousuke stares. How fascinating. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen any other Quincy wield reishi so casually.

“I think I can make it so you can see them too,” Ichigo continues. “I’m gonna have to… fiddle with your eyesight a bit though.”

Sousuke pins him with an assessing look before slowly reaching up to take off his glasses. “If you end up blinding me, I will stab you before you make it out of this room.”

Ichigo rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, whatever, but I’m not gonna do that. Now hold still and close your eyes.”

It takes effort not to flinch, much to Sousuke’s irritation. But the grip he still has around his writing brush tightens anyway when cool fingers touch his eyelids.

It barely feels like anything. There’s a tingle that itches a little, but it’s there and gone within seconds, leaving only an odd chill behind, not unlike getting a cold gust of wind to the face during winter. Ichigo withdraws, and Sousuke opens his eyes.

Nothing looks different. He doesn’t actually need glasses to begin with so everything is clear. He cocks a questioning look at Ichigo, who shakes his head.

“Wait for it,” He murmurs, taking a seat on the edge of Sousuke’s desk and absently shuffling through the top file in the inbox. “They’re not always spying on everyone. But you’re a person of interest to them, you know that, so I think they check in on you pretty often.” He pauses, and his gaze slides across the room before he focuses on the file in his hands again. “Here he comes. Don’t let him see you watching him.”

Sousuke follows his brief line of sight, just in time to see a very familiar blond head bob into view in the shadow cast by the couch set against the wall. It isn’t a very big shadow, a foot high at most, so Sousuke only gets to see the face and part of his neck and a little of the high white collar of his uniform, but it’s enough.

The next second, he’s reaching for one of his books and flipping it open like that was why he looked up from his paperwork at all. But now that he can see that he’s being watched, can sense it even, and so blatantly too, the urge to simply get up and run the Quincy through for his gall is tempting. Only the knowledge that he can’t at the moment stays his hand.

Can he hear us? Sousuke scrawls on a spare piece of paper.

“No,” Ichigo mutters back. “I tested it. It’s like a soundproofed window. I mean, it is now.” He smirks triumphantly out of sight of the Quincy. “Before I figured it out, it was like one of those one-way mirrors. Now we can see them too. But we can’t hear them, and they can’t hear us. They might know how to lip-read though, so be careful anyway.”

Well, obviously. Giving the game away this early would be foolish.

Sousuke watches through his periphery as the Quincy gives them both a last cursory blank look before his head moves out of the shadow and disappears again.

“Jugram Haschwalth,” Sousuke murmurs, surveying his office before turning his attention to Ichigo. “And they can see through every shadow in Soul Society?”

“As far as I can tell, yeah,” Ichigo scowls darkly. “They’re a bunch of regular Peeping Toms.” He grins for a moment, all teeth. “You would’ve made great friends.”

Sousuke narrows a reprimanding look at him. Ichigo just grins wider, not at all repentant, but he doesn’t push further either.

“What should we do now?” He asks instead. “I’m still working on figuring out a way to get through, but at least we can see them. Do we just keep doing what we’re doing and try not to draw their attention?”

“Yes,” Sousuke decides. “But also, mark down who they look in on most, who they consider to be the biggest threats, and who they’ve overlooked but can be threats to them.” He puts his glasses back on. “How long will I be able to see them?”

Ichigo shrugs. “Eh, not sure. You’re my first guinea pig.” Sousuke sighs. At least Ichigo looks a little sheepish now. “We can do a few tests over the weekend or something when I don’t have work. I probably should get back now.”

“I thought you said Urahara wouldn’t notice,” Sousuke says sardonically.

“He won’t,” Ichigo confirms. “But Hiyori will. She’s yelling at the science department at the moment though, and that always takes at least an hour, so I figured I’d take the chance to come show you this-” He waves a hand in the direction of the shadow Jugram was in. “-since I finally got it down this morning.”

Sousuke glances lingeringly at him. You could have waited, he almost says, but the words don’t come in the end, and a moment later, Ichigo is halfway out the window again.

“Anyway, see ya later,” He calls back briskly. “I finally got my first paycheck yesterday so I bought groceries. If you want free dinner, swing ’round my place and I’ll feed you. And we can talk more about the Peeping Toms.”

And then he’s gone in a rush of Shunpo, leaving Sousuke to stare after him, feeling strangely wrong-footed.

But then, Ichigo has a habit of leaving him that way.

Sousuke sighs again, puts it out of his mind, and gets back to work, firmly ignoring the blond-haired spy that sidles back into his office via the shadow in one corner of the ceiling this time.

But he can’t wait until Ichigo figures out a way to get through. He’s chopping the head off of this one personally.

#bleach #myscrap #ichigo & aizen time travel verse #kurosaki ichigo #aizen sousuke #msg #anonymous #headcanon

583 notes · View notes

writingsbychelle · 6 years

Text

Reckless Behaviour

Summary: Being angry at Peter for risking his life as Spider-Man.

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Request: /

Warnings: Uhhh, there’s a mention of a gun and the events of Homecoming plus the reader being Tony’s adopted daughter (bc in this house we aren’t exclusive). OOH and you’re all gonna hate me for that last sentence.

Word Count: 1,315

“I don’t understand it, explain it to me again?” you hopefully looked at your best friend, and crush, Peter Parker, who was currently sitting together with you in the kitchen in the Avengers Tower, catching you up on biology.

You had always a slight misunderstanding for biology but as the (adopted) daughter of Tony Stark people expected you to always be the best of your class which obviously put a lot of pressure on you. However, since you met Peter he had helped you a lot, patiently explaining everything to you, sometimes even several times, until you finally understood it.

“No problem, (Y/N). Okay, so basically-“ Peter began explaining only to be interrupted by Friday, your father’s IA.

“I am sorry to interrupt but Mr Stark is waiting for Mr Parker in his laboratories.”

“Sorry, (Y/N), I gotta go, talk to you later?”

Peter quickly stood up and shoved his stuff into his backpack before he threw it over his shoulder and hurried into the elevator that was already waiting for him, leaving you looking like a confused mess. The following hour you tried to work through everything yourself but you just ended up feeling like you fried off your last brain cells so you ultimately decided to sit down in your favourite café down the street to grab a coffee there and relax for a bit.

“Hello, one cold brew latte please,” you ordered, pulling your wallet out of your purse but before you could open it to give the money to the barista you felt the cold metal of a gun barrel press against your temples, causing the young woman behind the counter to let out a gasp, alerting the few customers that were sitting in the small café as well.

“I know who you are. You’re gonna come with me, nice and quiet, and then we’re gonna see how much you’re really worth to your father,” the man behind you growled in your ear, your body still as you slowly nodded your head.

Sadly Tony had given you a few lessons in case you’d ever end in a situation like this, behind held at gunpoint by someone that only wanted your father’s money.

“Alright, relax, I’ll come with you,” you raised your hands as he slowly led you outside of the café bringing you into a side alley where a van stood waiting.

“Hey, I don’t think that’s how you take women out on dates nowadays or is it?” you heard a familiar voice behind you, causing your kidnapper to turn around with you, his arm still wrapped around you.

In front of you stood a masked man in what looked like a red spandex suit.

Spider-Man.

“Let go of her and we can settle this,” Spider-Man said.

“Oh hell no, I’m not letting this deal slip through my fingers.”

You felt the barrel of his gun press harder against your temple, causing you to press your eyes shut, wishing for that moment to be over soon.

“Okay, okay, I’ll just…”

You opened your eyes to a “thwip” noise, seeing the man that stood behind you just seconds before pinned to a brick wall, Spider-Man’s webs keeping him there.

“Are you alright?” Your saviour asked gently, his right hands resting on your shoulders.

“Yeah, I...Yes, I’m fine, thank you so much,” you sighed, a hand running over your face in relief.

“I…Listen, I gotta go. Are you fine with finding your way back home by yourself?”

You nodded your head in response and before you could say anything else Spider-Man was back to swinging his way through Queens.

Just the next day you were back to sitting in the living room of the Avengers Tower with Peter, watching some TV as you were taking a break from studying.

“You know, I really love Spider-Man. I mean I knew he was amazing but he literally saved my life. I owe him big time…God I hope he isn’t like a creepy old man, that’d be so weird for me to have a crush on him,” you ranted to your best friend.

“Yo-you have a crush on him?” Peter’s cheeks turned slightly pink as you said those words.

“Yea, I mean, he’s absolutely amazing and he does so much to protect his neighbourhood, you know? He just seems so approachable, like he could literally be your neighbour in disguise.”

Peter mumbled something that sounded awfully close to an ‘if only you knew’ before you heard your dad’s voice echo down the hallway, ripping you away from your thoughts about the masked superhero.

“Hey Spidey, I wanna talk to you about someth-“

“Uhm…Hello, Mr Stark.”

“Spidey?” you asked confused, eyes darting between Peter and Tony.

“Uhhh...yea, about that...”

“I’m Spider-Man,” Peter blurted out, causing your head to snap towards him.

“You’re…Spider-Man…” you trailed off, your best friend nodding next to you.

“Wait…that was you in DC? And on the Staten Island Ferry? And…oh god, the Coney Island thing, that was you too? Shit, Peter how stupid could you be? You were risking your life there, man. Dammit, Pete, why do you always have to be so fucking reckless, can’t you be a normal high school student like the rest of us?” you rambled on, your fist hitting his chest before you stood up and paced around the living room, fingers massaging the bridge of your nose before moving towards your temples.

“I was just trying to help, (Y/N), I was-“

“You were risking your fucking life there, Peter. You could’ve died for fuck’s sake," you exclaimed, throwing your hands into the air.

“Yeah, I know but I didn’t. I’m alive and well,” Peter tried to argue with you.

“God knows what could’ve happened with your reckless behaviour.”

You let your head hang low, shaking it in disbelief until your dad put a hand on your shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Come on, kid. Let him be, I already gave him a hard time about all that.”

“I’m really sorry, (Y/N). I don’t know what to say to make you feel better,” Peter pouted slightly, placing his hands on your cheeks and raising your face so you were looking at him.

“You’re an idiot, Peter Parker.”

Shaking your head you wrapped your arms around the brunette boy, pulling him in for a hug.

“Well, I’m gonna leave you two alone, you got a lot of explaining to do, Pete,” Tony teased as he wandered off again.

Your gaze turned from your father to Peter the second the former was out of your field of view, Peter’s eyes focused on your lips but quickly shooting up to your eyes the second he noticed you turned your head back to him. The tension in the room thickened as you met his intense gaze, your face inching closer to his with every breath.

“Did you ever plan on telling me?” you mumbled, his breath fanning over your skin.

“Eventually, yes. But I wanted to find the right moment.”

Peter’s eyes shifted back towards your lips, biting his own as he did so, just for his gaze to flicker back upwards.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked anxiously.

“Please.”

Without hesitation his lips collided with yours, your arms wrapping tighter around his neck while he pulled you closer. The kiss you shared didn’t last long, just a few moments but you were just as breathless as you would’ve been if it lasted for eternity.

“Don’t ever be so reckless again, please. I can’t stand the thought of losing you.”

“I promise, I'm never gonna leave you,” he mumbled, not foreseeing just how much pain these two words would cause you in the future when you would realise he broke his promise to you, doing what he promised not to do.

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icecubelotr44 · 6 years

Text

Clear and Present Danger (3/16)

Summary: Homicide detective Killian Jones has been searching for a way to bring Milah’s murderer to justice. There’s only one small problem: Robert Gold is the captain of the same homicide division. Enter Emma Swan, Internal Affairs investigator, looking into Gold’s shady dealings. Between the two of them, can they unravel the web of deals and lies that have gotten Gold to where he is?

Rated: T, for violence, some dark themes, angst, and whump (you expected different?

TW: character death, mention of past self-harm, fatal car accident, school hostage situation

Other ships: mentions past Millian in a good light, Outlaw Queen, Snowing

Art credit/link: The totally awesome @cocohook38 made the cover you can see above and on her blog here. Later in the story, she’s illustrated some key points to the fic and I can’t thank her enough for her work! Go show her some love!

Beta reader: @gusenitsaa took on this monster without probably knowing exactly what she was getting into (what do you mean 100,000 words?!) and any mistakes that you find are probably me being stubborn and ignoring her advice! Thank you!

A/N: Written as part of the 2018 Captain Swan Big Bang Challenge. You can catch up with all the other fics that are complete by following @captainswanbigbang and/or subscribing to the Group Collection on AO3 and/or the C2 on FFN. This is complete in 16 parts and will be posted every Sunday from now until its completion.

Take it away, It’s going to be a bumpy ride.

Word count: ~ 6,250 (100k Total in 16 chapters)

From the beginning: AO3 / FFN

Current Chapter: ao3 | ffn

CHAPTER THREE: Reasonable Suspicion

Killian’s ears were still ringing from the blow the woman had landed across his jaw. His lungs had only just started working again and he was sure that there would be bruises to hide from Liam in the morning. To say that she’d taken him by surprise was an understatement. He watched her carefully, the glint of the sun on the metal in her hand enough to keep him on edge.

“Gold… murdered someone,” Emma repeated, playing idly with the blade. It wasn’t a question, but Killian nodded reluctantly anyway.

“I… I can’t prove it.” He scrubbed a hand over his face to hide his frustration at that before he continued. “Yet. The bloody crocodile was in the station when it happened and everything I’ve turned up is dead ends. But I know he was responsible. I know he killed her. And if you’re here to investigate him, then-”

“How do you know that I’m investigating him?” she asked, and he could hear the suspicion dripping off every word.

Killian shrugged. “You weren’t doing much to hide it. And there’s not much else going on in the office other than Gold’s hubris, lass. Not that would draw IA’s attention, anyway. But I meant what I said, you can’t trust Isaac. He’s so far into Gold’s pocket that I’m pretty sure they’re wearing the same pants.”

The woman nodded. “I figured that out for myself, thanks.”

“Oh, you’re a tough lass.” Killian was thrilled to see her finally fold up the knife and stuff it into a pocket. “May I have the pleasure of your name now, Miss...?”

“Detective Swan,” she said, sticking out her hand for him to shake. “Emma.”

Killian took her hand and, ignoring the widening of her eyes in surprise, pulled it up to kiss her knuckles in a show of exaggerated chivalry.

“Pleased to meet you, Swan,” he said over her knuckles, tightening his grip when she tried to pull away. “I think we’re going to make quite the team.”

She scoffed. “Who said I was going to work with you?”

“The way I see it, we’re looking for the same thing. We can either keep working separately, or” - he shrugged again, still refusing to let go of her hand - “we can pool our resources. Put Gold and whoever’s making it so easy for him to sit pretty in that office behind bars.”

Emma smiled sweetly, drawing a grin from him that he couldn’t help, before she struck, twisting his grip around until she had him shoved face first against the brick.

“Bloody-”

“Let’s get one thing straight, buddy,” she interrupted his cursing. “Your charm might work on someone else, but not me. You give me what you have on Gold and maybe… maybe I’ll think about keeping you in the loop. But I’m not going to just trust you because you say so. For all I know, you’re just as far into Gold’s pocket as your buddy Isaac.”

“I’d never be caught dead working with him,” Killian muttered against the wall, chagrined to realize that she had him completely incapacitated. “We’re on the same side, luv.”

“Not your love. You can call me Detective.” She released him as quickly as she’d restrained him, stepping back and glaring before he could even turn around. She was strong, she was guarded, and she was dangerous. But she wanted Gold behind bars and he’d worked with less in the past.

“Detective,” he allowed with a nod, “I think we can help each other. And you could use someone on the inside, yeah?”

He could see her mulling it over, the indecision written on her face as clearly as words on a page. There was something about her, despite the knife she’d pulled on him. He knew her job wasn’t easy, knew that the majority of their colleagues would rather vilify her than praise her for taking an impossible job and making it hers. But there was more than that hiding in the depths of her eyes. A deeper hurt that resonated with him. She had the look of someone who’d been thrown away like garbage and it made Killian all the more grateful to remember that Liam had always been there for him.

Even if he was going to take the long way home to avoid the Spanish Inquisition and resultant mollycoddling that was going to come the second Liam saw the bruise forming on his chin.

Her eyes narrowed, searching him, and Killian waited for her to make a decision.

He smiled in triumph a moment before she sighed. “I don’t like working with partners, Jones.”

Killian waited. She was going to let him help, he just had to be patient and not push it.

“But you’re right” - it sounded as if it cost her something to admit that - “that it wouldn’t hurt to have a set of eyes and ears that your coworkers wouldn’t expect. We do this my way, got it?”

“Of course, Swan. You’re in charge.” Killian held out his hand to shake hers again.

She glanced at it. “I’m not going to kiss your knuckles, you know.”

His answering grin was so wide that his cheeks hurt., but Emma didn’t seem to notice. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Jones. Watch your back, all right?”

“I’ve got plenty of people in my corner who will do that for me, lass. Keep your eyes up, yeah?”

Killian thought he heard her mutter, “Must be nice,” before she disappeared around the corner. He nodded to himself, turning back to the main road and heading towards the subway station. There was a kernel of hope that hadn’t been there before, a tendril of possibility that Killian wanted to grab onto with both hands and tug. He wasn’t the only one anymore, the only one who saw Gold as more than just an untouchable and necessary evil. Still, they’d have to tread lightly. Gold wouldn’t hesitate to take them down to keep himself safe.

“Jones?” Locksley called, pulling Killian out of his thoughts. “What are you doing down here, mate? Get lost?”

Killian knew he was joking - mostly - but he could hear the worry in his tone. “Aye mate, thought I parked the Benz down here.” He managed to keep a straight face long enough for Robin’s hand to twitch towards the phone on his belt.

“Bugger off!” Robin spat when the grin on Killian’s face gave away the joke.

Killian sobered immediately at Locksley’s tone. “I’m sorry,” he apologized, moving out of the alley to catch up with his partner.

Robin glared at him before walking towards the subway station. “We were all worried, you know. You woke up in the ER and you didn’t know Liam.”

What?

Killian whipped his head around to catch Robin’s eye and he grabbed his partner’s arm when Locksley wouldn’t even look at him.

“I wasn’t supposed to tell you that,” Robin grumbled.

Some of Liam’s hovering over the past few weeks started to make more sense. His brother could give the fiercest mama bear a run for her money on a good day, so Killian hadn’t thought too much about it. He couldn’t have named the emotion half-hidden in Liam’s eyes every time he’d fussed over Killian, not then. But he also didn’t remember much between seeing Hades in the alley and waking up to Liam’s mother henning in the hospital room he’d suffered through forty-eight hours of observation with ill disguised grace.

Maybe not so much on the ‘disguised’ end of the spectrum.

“I don’t remember that,” he muttered when Robin’s concerned stare went on too long.

His partner nodded. “We figured as much. And Liam said not to say anything when you woke up again and everything had seemed to settle.”

“Of course he did,” Killian mumbled under his breath amidst a sigh.

Fear. That was what Liam had been trying in vain to suppress. Killian had scared him again. While he remembered only a knock to the head, Liam had been forced to wait for him to wake up, not knowing if he’d remember his own brother when he did.

There had been plenty of scares in their careers - they were both police officers, after all - and injuries were par for the course. Both he and Liam had spent their share of sleepless nights at their brother’s bedside and the fear that came with that was all-encompassing, but mostly fleeting. It had to be, or they’d never get back out on the streets.

But Killian remembered when Liam had woken up shaking and couldn’t stop - not quite seizing, but close enough to send a tendril of pure terror coursing through him. He remembered how close he had stayed those first few weeks as the neurotoxin settled in Liam’s bloodstream and allowed him to resume most of his daily activities. He remembered that fear. That was what Liam had been dealing with over the last couple weeks as Killian recovered. The unknown quantity.

Didn’t mean that Killian wasn’t going to find a way to exact revenge for the super glue, though. It wouldn’t do to let Liam - and by extension, David - think they could get away with nonsense like that just because they were ‘older and wiser’ as it were.

He and Robin parted ways at the corner, the bustle of the city at rush hour serving to make the headache that Swan had exacerbated even worse. It would be sheer luck if Liam didn’t take one look at him and blow a gasket. He recalled a scene in one of the Harry Potter movies where Harry had been locked in his bedroom - it didn’t take too much of an imagination to picture Liam trying the same tactic.

Swan occupied his thoughts on the ride home, their two brief interactions playing on a loop as he pondered over her - who was she really? What made her tick? Why had she chosen to go into Internal Affairs? She was clearly tough enough to be on the streets and he didn’t think that outside perceptions of her would have swayed her away from a beat patrol before moving up the ranks.

What does she have on Gold?

Killian hadn’t been this intrigued by a woman since the day he’d first set eyes on Milah. He’d been sitting alone in Finnegan’s Tavern, a bottle of Sam Adams forgotten on the table in front of him and his brother off in another corner of the bar getting them something to eat. She’d been stunning to look at, sitting by herself as well and nursing a glass of wine as sharp eyes darted around the room. Her curls falling loose over her back, the lost look in her eyes, all of it intrigued him and he wanted to know more.

It hadn’t taken long for Killian to forget that Liam was even there with him; he’d approached her and been regretfully turned down that evening, but she hadn’t left his thoughts. Who was she and why did she look so sad?

Every minute with her was a gift - and Gold had torn it from his grasping fingers. She’d been Killian’s for a few precious-

“What the bloody hell happened?” The voice broke through his musings.

Killian sighed audibly. As expected, he’d barely managed to get the door open before Liam had pounced on him. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes, if only in deference to the headache, and waited for the inevitable inspection.

“You’re supposed to be on deskwork!” Liam stomped through the kitchen, reaching out to turn Killian’s head closer to the light. Killian hadn’t seen the bruise yet, but he could feel it - blood pooling hot and pulsing just under the skin of his jaw, a stark reminder of what it was to be on Emma Swan’s bad side. Liam poked at the bruise, drawing a hushed grunt of pain and - if possible - the frown on his brother’s face deepened to new levels.

Mindful of what Robin had let slip, Killian tolerated the inspection as patiently as he could manage, for as long as he could manage. It didn’t take too long before he was batting Liam’s prodding fingers away anyway. “It’s fine, brother. I spent the entire bloody day sitting at my desk twiddling my thumbs like a good boy, all right?”

The smirk on Liam’s face flashed for only an instant before it was hidden behind a mask, but Killian didn’t miss it. He glared and pointedly didn’t mention the super glue nor the fact that he likely still smelled like nail polish remover. He just wanted a shower and some ibuprofen and something to drink.

“So how’d you get the bruise then?” Liam asked, his fingers twitching like he wanted to poke and prod at it some more.

Killian moved safely out of reach before he snarked back. “I was attacked by a Swan on my way home. It took us awhile to come to an understanding.”

Liam just blinked. Killian waited just long enough to see the confusion start to turn to concern before he cracked a smile, waving his brother off and rooting through the fridge for a drink. The shower would have to wait until Liam was satisfied, but at least he could get rid of the cottony feeling in his mouth.

“Killian!”

He sighed. “Relax, brother. I’m fine. There’s an IA officer looking into Gold. She and I… we didn’t get off on the right foot, so when I went to try again…” he trailed off, waving over his jaw.

Liam snickered, a look on his face that left Killian’s ears red. “I assume you put things right, little brother?”

“Younger, Liam,” he whined, cringing a little at how petulant he sounded. It wasn’t a new argument and, truth be told, it wasn’t one Killian ever expected to win. He didn’t even mind too much when Liam didn’t acknowledge the ‘correct’ moniker as he moved to pull dinner out of the oven. It would be all too easy to make a remark about him becoming a good housewife and Killian patted himself on the back for not giving in to the temptation.

It was a close call, but he’d plan something better in retaliation for his desk.

Emma sunk into the steaming bath water with an audible sigh. She’d left the light off, several candles burning away merrily and filling the small room with soothing scents. There was a glass of wine on the bath caddy and a book lying face down that she only sort of intended to read. It didn’t take too long for the heat to seep into Emma’s muscles and she relaxed into a boneless heap in the water. However much she had intended to leave work at work, she couldn’t get that interaction with Jones out of her head. She had no reason to feel bad; he’d been sneaking up on her, she had plenty of experience with loyal cops showing her how they felt about her investigations, he’d been sneaking up on her.

And yet.

Killian Jones was far more than a pretty face. If he was telling her the truth, he’d been grievously wronged by Gold and could be a valuable asset in her investigation. The key was to get in and get out without getting attached. He was a tool in her arsenal, nothing more. His sarcastic quips and the over-the-top chivalry weren’t going to change anything - she was at the precinct to do a job and that was it.

Bringing someone like Gold to justice would more than make her career. It would make the other detectives start to take her seriously, a woman in a man’s world. She would love nothing more than to wipe the indulgent smirks off the faces of the men in her office. It might be nice to be able to peek out of the armor a little bit. Occasionally.

The water slowly cooled and her glass ran dry, but Emma still lingered in the half haze of sleep that she’d slipped into. It was simple here, in the sanctuary of her apartment, away from all the drama and the politics and the intrigue of her cases and her interoffice relationships. She didn’t have to hide behind the mask she’d crafted or question every interaction she had. Here, there was just her and the safety of her loneliness.

When the water was finally a few degrees too cold to be comfortable, Emma stood and wrapped herself in a towel. She tried not to bring her work home with her; it was hard enough to deal with it during work hours. But with the addition of Jones to her arsenal - and her constant thoughts, it seemed - she’d have to come up with a new plan of attack. Emma wasn’t used to having to consider another person on her side in her investigations. They’d tried to rope her into working with a partner before but it never stuck. They were too inept or she was too prickly, too stubborn, too set in her ways to listen to their ideas.

It was better if she worked alone, that was all there was to it.

Over the next few days, Emma did what Emma did best: she ignored Killian Jones completely. She had plenty of interviews to conduct and spent half of her time driving across the state to follow up with the men and women Gold had put behind bars as well as some he hadn’t. They all had precisely the same thing to say about him.

Absolutely nothing.

Emma didn’t need her ‘super power’ to tell that they were - to the very last man - terrified to speak out against Gold. Someone had gotten to them before her and had bought their silence. It left her irritable and exhausted, unwilling to play the game when Isaac cornered her in the bullpen to “see what she needed.”

She needed to punch someone in the face.

As it was, putting her fist across Isaac’s jaw probably wouldn’t do anything but get her suspended and put the investigation that much further behind. Instead, she plastered on a smile that she hoped looked sincere enough to pass muster and asked for another batch of files that had nothing to do with Gold or the charges against him, hoping that the little weasel would run back to his master and crow about her apparent ineptitude. She’d have to steer the investigation formally towards Gold at some point, but she needed something concrete to go on before then. All she had right now were allegations and rumors that were - so far - unfounded. Emma didn’t believe for a moment that the accusations listed in her file were false, but she needed to find some kind of evidence. Even the evidence from the investigation into Milah Gold was hazy at best and - as Jones had said - didn’t point to Gold’s involvement at all.

The case had, very pointedly in fact, implicated Killian Jones in her murder. Even if Emma hadn’t heard it in his voice the day she’d nearly knocked him out in that alley, she was no longer uncertain about how much Jones had loved Milah. It was written all over the interrogations, the track the evidence had taken, in every entry from the detective who’d investigated. Killian had been cleared quickly - which surprised Emma given Gold’s power - but the damage must have been done.

The problem was, it was all too clean. There was no way that the woman’s brake lines had been cut and no one had been spotted near her car in the police station’s parking garage. The video surveillance gave Emma - and anyone else who had investigated, namely K. Jones on a near-weekly schedule - a perfect view of Milah’s car. Emma watched as the woman got out of the vehicle and walked out of frame, then stared at nothing of note for the half hour she’d been gone, and finally saw her come back to her car and drive away.

All of it was too clean. Every case that Gold had closed, every murderer that he’d convicted, on paper they were all perfectly by the book. Every ‘i’ was dotted and every ‘t’ was crossed. On paper, there was no reason to suspect that he’d ever stepped a toe across the line. But all it took was one look at him to know that he was dirty. All it took was one readthrough of the case file that had been compiled to get the sick feeling in her stomach. Gold needed to be tried for his crimes and, hopefully, the evidence against him would be compelling enough that not even whoever was backing him would come out with their hands clean.

That was Emma’s job, and she looked forward to the end results. She did not, however, enjoy the monotony that came with trying to keep her investigation under wraps. She had Isaac pull Jones’s case files today, trying to get a glimpse into the lieutenant’s process in attempts to understand him better. The mole at her side grinned snidely when he’d commented that it was only a matter of time before Jones was investigated.

“His promotion was a little too convenient,” he crowed before elbowing her in the side in apparent camaraderie, “if you know what I mean.”

Emma stepped pointedly away and resisted the urge to roll her shoulder and stretch where he’d impacted her ribs. Instead, she smiled in feigned interest and cocked her head to the side. “Oh, really?” she asked, hoping Isaac would latch on to the ruse.

He did.

“Oh yes, I could tell you all about Lieutenant Jones and how he came to be in our humble department. Did you know that he was still on patrol just over a year ago?”

She hadn’t.

“Captain Gold requested that his promotion track be accelerated personally. I’ve never understood it, of course. Jones is nothing but a problem. The captain tolerates him, but if you ask me, there’s something fishy about it, because the two of them… well, to say they’re like cats and dogs would be insulting to those poor animals. And yet…” Isaac trailed off meaningfully, his eyes tracking across the bullpen to where Jones had just entered. Instead of finishing his statement, he just shrugged as if the lieutenant’s presence was answer enough.

It didn’t make any sense. From what she could tell, Jones was a Boy Scout. She wouldn’t be surprised to find an Eagle Scout award in his history. She’d known there was no way that he was being backed by Gold - even before she knew what she did about his history with the captain’s former wife. But the mysterious benefactor… Emma didn’t know anything about him. Yet. It was possible that Gold was just an unfortunate middle man, or that they were both trying to force Jones into a position where he couldn’t get free of them. It was possible, she supposed, that Jones was in on the whole thing and was playing her to get information.

Even as she thought it, the voice inside her head laughed at her. No, Jones wasn’t involved with Gold or his backer. If he was, then she would turn in her badge and gun and take up a job at the local Walmart. Emma wasn’t good at people, but she was good at reading them. It made her successful as a detective and horrible to play poker against, but she’d take the former over the latter any time. A cop who couldn’t trust her gut was a dead cop and Emma liked breathing too much not to hone that skill.

Emma focused on Isaac’s retreating back as he headed for the file room - now he was definitely working for Gold, and not in the official capacity. She’d do anything to have him far away from her and her investigation, if only for the drop in stress that would entail.

She almost missed the note on her desk, tucked away under the file marked K. Jones that she’d purposely left out. Who had been near her desk? And what did they want?

Atlantis Marina, 8pm tonight.

It’ll be worth it.

Emma supposed she’d have to go to the marina to find out. She wasn’t naive, but she wasn’t cautious by nature, either. She would, however, be there well before eight in order to get the lay of the land.

Emma worked for a few more hours, digging into Killian’s past just in case her gut was wrong. She finally dug past the insubordination claims that Gold seemed to file on a regular basis and burrowed deep enough into his file to find a redacted report of drunk and disorderly conduct that had never been closed or prosecuted. Further digging, however, revealed that the date of the report coincided with the date of Milah Gold’s funeral, so Emma put it out of her mind. If the man needed a little bit of liquid courage to say goodbye to a woman he clearly loved, then who was she to judge him?

Five o’clock came all too suddenly and Emma locked up the files she didn’t plan on taking home with her before signing out the ones she did. With evening traffic, it could take twenty minutes or it could take forever to get to the marina, and she wanted plenty of time to walk the perimeter and see if she could get an upper hand on whoever had left the note for her. At the very least, she wanted escape routes and a good vantage point of the entrance before whoever planned on meeting her showed up. Emma texted the address to Ruby and Dorothy in case she needed back up, but declined their offer to come down and stake out the place. She had a sneaking suspicion as to whose handwriting that had been, and didn’t think she’d need any of the precautions she was taking.

But Emma had been burned before.

The marina was well maintained. The lights in the parking area and along the docks provided very few shadows that someone could ambush her from and there were men and women in security uniforms patrolling the docks at random intervals. Emma found that she already had a reserved parking space in the guest lot, and the attendant there knew who she was - pointing out that the boat she was looking for was in its slip on B-dock.

The Jolly Roger.

Emma could see it from where she was standing on another dock - she wasn’t entirely sure which dock it was - sitting jauntily in the water and inviting her to come aboard. As if a boat could be jaunty and inviting. There were lights on in the… she thought it was called a cockpit but wouldn’t lay money down on it. But no one was aboard.

It wasn’t new by any means, but it was clearly well cared for. The hull gleamed in the lights and the name on the back was crisp-lettered and pristine. There were a few dings here and there along the hull and the railing, but the metal shined and the windows were streak-free. She had a feeling that whoever owned the boat would be put off by the small imperfections, but was clearly proud of his - or her - ownership.

“You can see her up close, if you like,” Jones’s voice whispered in her ear.

She whirled around, fists up and ready to defend herself. There was a moment of terrifying weightlessness as she stepped back, expecting her foot to impact solid wood and instead finding open air. Emma’s eyes widened in surprise and her breath caught in her throat even as she flailed and caught Killian’s outstretched hands. He pulled her close and Emma latched onto his shoulders, fingers tight in his leather jacket as she tried to convince herself that she was on solid ground again.

“Damnit, Jones!” she shouted in his face. He was terrifyingly close.

He shrugged, the muscles under her fingers bunching with the movement. She realized, a bit belatedly, that she still hadn’t let go of him. Nor he of her. Emma shoved him back, putting enough space in between them that her heart finally started to slow down. It rankled her a bit that he didn’t stumble, just swayed with the push and stood tall.

She glared at him. “I could have fallen in!”

Killian just smirked, something dangerous in his eyes. “That’s a plausible excuse for grabbing me, but next time, don’t stand on ceremony.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “You wish, buddy.”

He finally stepped back, although Emma got the feeling he’d have stayed there if he thought he could get away with it. He clasped his hands behind his back, instead, and rocked back on his heels. “I meant what I said, though. You can see her up close, if you like.”

Emma just looked at him in askance.

“You… you did get my note, didn’t you?”

She pulled the crumpled piece of paper from her pocket. “And how, exactly, was I supposed to know it was from you?”

“I signed it,” he explained with a funny little grin, taking the note from her and smoothing it out against his leg. “See?”

Emma looked where he’d turned the paper over, the small caricature of a hook and a swan in the bottom corner. She’d seen the drawing, of course, but she still didn’t understand. She stared at him incredulously, before asking again, “And how, exactly, was I supposed to know it was from you?”

“Well, I couldn’t exactly sign my own name, could I?” Jones shrugged. “Not with your little shadow combing every piece of paper on your desk at all times. It’s all very cloak and dagger, you see, and who’s better at that than a pirate?”

Emma glanced over her shoulder to the nameplate on the back of Killian’s boat. “You had an unhealthy obsession with Peter Pan as a child, didn’t you?”

“Never liked the little demon,” he replied, matter of fact. “Always thought that Captain Hook was the hero of that fairy tale.”

“Even with the waxed moustache and the perm?”

Killian smirked. “You never read the book, did you? Captain Hook was devilishly handsome, after all. Like me,” he preened a little.

Emma just shook her head. He didn’t need the ego boost - clearly. “So what are we doing here, Jones?”

“I didn’t know how else to get your attention. You’ve been avoiding me, lass.” Killian shrugged. “I thought…”

“We can’t exactly be seen working together,” Emma defended her actions. “I haven’t been avoiding you.”

She totally had.

One of Killian’s eyebrows raised pointedly. “You might find this a surprising attribute in a detective, Swan, but I’m actually quite perceptive and this” - he gestured between them - “this is avoiding me.”

Emma nodded in spite of herself. There was no use denying what was painfully obvious anyway. “So… what? You thought you’d lure me here with a mystery and…” she shrugged emphatically, waiting for an explanation.

The tips of Killian’s ears went a little bit pink. “One of the first things my brother taught me after I graduated the academy was to limit the amount of work I brought home with me. I know that with Isaac lurking about you’re probably trying to throw him off and that’s got to be exhausting. I thought that you… that we could use the Jolly as some kind of, I don’t know, an in between or something.”

Emma blinked.

Killian just shrugged. “I want to help, Swan. I need to help put him away. For Milah. For… for me. We can’t exactly advertise that we’re working together, I get that. But I can help you.”

There was a reason Emma didn’t work with a partner. She did her own thing, her own way, on her own terms. The only one who she risked being hurt was her and the only one who was responsible for the outcome of her cases was her. She had worked with someone else a time or two, but not since she’d moved to Internal Affairs; she found it just wasn’t worth it.

But maybe just this once, with a case this big and a willing pawn in Killian Jones, it wouldn’t be such a bad idea. The appeal of having someplace away from both prying eyes and her own sanctuary was strong. Part of Emma still balked - she was better off alone, history had shown her that time and time again - but she pushed past it for the sake of her case.

“All right, Jones, let’s see this boat of yours.”

It didn’t take them long to cover the entirety of the aft cabin in paperwork. Liam would have a fit if he decided to take her out for more than a brief afternoon, but seeing Gold’s demise come together piece by piece was worth the strife Killian knew he’d hear about. Emma had already cobbled together a timeline of Gold’s career, listing cases and complaints alike along with his promotions and the men and women he’d promoted himself.

Killian bristled when he saw his own name listed, the blue star next to his name signifying Gold’s personal involvement in the transfer. “Swan, just so you know, this wasn’t… I didn’t…” he trailed off, still looking at his name on the timeline and uncertain how to explain.

Emma slid another paper over the top of that one, this one listing unsolved cases that Gold had sent to the Cold Case division. “You can tell me in your own time,” she allowed with a small smile.

He nodded. Killian couldn’t deny that the promotion had been a bit of grabbing the tiger by the tail. He knew Gold had it out for him, would try his best to make Killian’s life miserable. But Liam and David had already been in Homicide before Milah’s death and Killian had longed for the chance to work beside his brother. Then he’d met Milah and thought that the price he would have to pay for falling for her was his dream of being partnered with Liam. After her murder, he’d stopped caring how he got to Liam’s side, he just knew he couldn’t do it anymore without his brother. Any of it. The transfer had seemed like the universe paying him back - a little - for stealing Milah from him. And then Liam had been injured because of him and now… well, now it was all about taking down Gold. Killian couldn’t deny that he didn’t really care what happened to his career after that.

Or to himself.

Maybe he should take Liam up on that offer to move to the private sector, after all.

“Are you even listening, Jones?” Emma’s annoyed question made him realize she’d been trying to get his attention for quite some time.

He shook his head apologetically, scratching behind one ear and attempting a smirk. He could feel how forced it was and the look on Emma’s face proved that she wasn’t buying it either. “Apologies, lass, I got a bit caught up in my head.”

“I said, it’s getting late and we should probably get out of here. Do we need to pack this up, or…” she looked at him in askance.

Killian shook his head. “No. No one but myself and my brother have keys to the cabins and I’ll let him know that this is all here.” He groaned internally at the idea of telling Liam about all this - the mess and what he was about to do next. Regardless of Liam’s opinion on the matter, however, he reached into his pocket and handed her a keychain with a pirate ship on it.

Emma stared at it for a moment.

“It’s not going to bite you, lass. I just thought that…” he shrugged. “Well, you need access to the cabin and I might not always be able to get you here. Smee is the parking attendant you met earlier; he knows to let you have the guest parking space whenever you’d like it and you’re on the list of approved guests with access to the boat. No one will bother you.”

She finally reached out and snagged the key, turning the little ship over in her hands. “It’s a little on the nose, don’t you think?” Emma asked with a smirk that made the tips of Killian’s ears go hot.

“The appeal of Neverland as a child - an escape where time would stop and I could have all the time in the world to figure out how to get what I wanted - it was intoxicating. I guess it’s never really left me.” He paused and raised one eyebrow. “Although I still think the bloody demon of that island would have made life miserable there.”

Emma laughed, finally putting the key in her pocket after further inspection. She followed him out onto the deck, but didn’t make a move to climb onto the dock again.

“And what did a young Killian Jones want that he couldn’t have?” she asked lightly, a glint of something in her eyes that Killian wanted to understand.

He shrugged in what he hoped was nonchalance. That wasn’t a tale he was ready to get into yet. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” he deflected instead.

There was a look in Emma’s eyes that told Killian she might just understand what it was he and Liam had been searching for all those years - a home.

“Perhaps I would.”

tagging: @killian-whump, @gilliangrissom, @nothingimpossibleonlyimprobable

#csbb #cs fic #captain swan fic #cs ff #ouat ff

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