#they love the strict controlling big guy and soft small guy thing | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

prof-peach · 3 years

Note

if fans wanted to include peach in stuff they write, would that be okay? and how would they write peach's personality? aside from "FIGHT ME" anyway, i think that much is a given lol. i only really write the anime characters 'cause that's what i know, but it sounds like it'd be kinda fun to try making a version of ash that fits into this blog's universe! nerf'd Obviously, but i think she'd probably appreciate how hands-on he gets when training his pokemon!

Ok, I get a lot of these messages, and I often hear folks wanting to throw peach into their stories and comics and writings, and I will always simply ask that if it’s published online publicly, to be linked to it so I can snoop and enjoy the content too. If someone asks about her in your work, let them know about the blog I guess? But literally I love that people take this stuff, these characters and stories, and make new stuff with it. No ones making money off my work here? So where’s the issue? Go for it buddy, knock yourself out, I’m all for it.

For you, and all the others out there who want to add peach, and other characters to your world building, I will give you a detailed rundown of the main lot, and how they behave, what they do, how they function. You can use that, use bits, or use none of it, I do not mind at all. If you’re creating something, you’re in control, not me.

So, peach doesn’t actually fight people as much as you’d think. She’s very aware most cannot and do not want to do that, and so she likes to keep to herself with regards to that aspect of her life, she doesn’t ask to spar with people, or even bring it up at all, but people ask her all the time, even if they clearly would lose or become hurt should she miscalculate during the fight. She looks at people like they usually create problems, and often has a somewhat reserved nature to other humans. You have to work quite hard to get anything more than formalities out of her. She will dead-pan handle people with blunt and very to-the-point statements, aid whenever possible, but very quickly get back to handling the Pokemon she so carefully tends. Her focus is clear, she’s all about hard work, her very small select family, and the Pokemon.

Her brutal, loud and brash personality only comes out with friends, family, difficult humans, OR any Pokemon. She will joke and laugh and play with Pokemon, but clam up around humans, maintaining tight body language and generally will be a little cold by regular standards. She does however have some weaknesses in this emotionless shield she puts up. When peach was young she was always angry, which swung so fast to sadness, back and forth. Her teenage years it just got worse and worse, it was crippling at points. She is to this day, full of fire and rage, even sadness, but now she has learnt to control it, to use it. When she sees that in others, it’s familiar, and she is pushed to drop the front, and be very real with the person. Underdogs I suppose, people who get bad reps, but deserve the same as everyone else. She can’t ignore it.

Once you start to pry open her personality, you’ll find she’s a lot more laid back and fun than originally appeared, you just have to work hard to find that side of her. She will meme reference, can’t dance to save her life, loves her coffee, and can be caught in quiet contemplation while gardening. This hobby is her calmest, and often is why she can stay so level headed when her quiet rage boils up again. Without time outside she will become grouchy, a little snippy, and lethargic. Will not go in the ocean for any reason other than life or death, is fine with ponds and rivers, or water at wading height. Likes the rain.

With regards to her training others, they usually have to tolerate her somewhat strict nature. She is a little....unforgiving, holds a grudge if you make a lot of mistakes, and has no tolerance for ignorance in the age of information that we all live in. In previous posts I’ve mentioned she’s only recently selected two students, after many years of testing kids who want to learn from her. Hundred tried out, only two have ever been approved. How she teaches is very fast paced, be prepared to get some scrapes and bruises, she will test your physical and emotional tolerances with intense tasks, carefully watching students like a hawk. Bad posture in your stance? She’ll be the first to tell you to sort it out. Not hearing your Pokemon partner? Right, now you spend the day without using words trying to communicate, let’s see how you like not being listened to.

This is a woman who has spent her life saying very little, and watching everything, she watches Pokemon and can see an issue from a mile off, and in battles, her observations are why she can react fast, and chose effective strategy to avoid damage and achieve results. Don’t let her body fool you, her strongest asset is analysing, watching, planning. Those skills have over the years transferred to people too. As a student, mistakes don’t go unnoticed with this professor.

Her methods are harsh but fair, and should you prove yourself, she will protect you with her life.

Because of her disinterest in kids and lots of noise, she does pass the training of students on to the other staff members whenever possible. Grey takes on the lions share of battle lessons, he is far calmer, more open and friendly, with patience for people, and an empathy that peach sometimes struggles to have. When you go through a lot of harsh training, and difficult events, it’s hard to change how you feel or think, with peach, well, she’s been through it. Most do not come out the other end in one piece, but she did, and it made her strong. You may think I mean strong like buff and big, and yeah sure she is, but I mean it mentally more than anything. Peach will not quit. She has learnt to destroy the boundaries that stop people getting hurt, gone is the fear that freezes you in your tracks, that feeling that you’ll pass out if you go one more step. She’s learnt to ignore it.

This means she’s a little forgetful at how it is to be normal, to be vulnerable and soft and squishy like students so usually are.

She has her issues, but for the most part, visitors get a laugh, a smile, a calm assertive confidence, and facts. She will indulge those who have genuine interest, or show a connection with nature, an understanding of the balance that needs to be struck for everyone to live well together.

Despite her many flaws, she’s fiercely protective, and will go above and beyond to defend the island, it’s staff, the Pokemon and the visitors. Injustice is her biggest gripe, along with littering, and she doesn’t stand by quietly if something happens that seems unfair.

You will not see her without Valka, her vulpix, close by. That Pokemon doesn’t like to be touched by strangers, at all, and will run the second someone comes at her with that intent. Peach will scold you for pushing yourself onto her, should you persistently try to get close to pet Val. They are in sync, if peach is sad, Val is sad, if Val is stressed, peach is stressed, and so on. They are inherently connected, it’s just been that long, the psychic bridge between them has been built, and reinforced over the years.

The only other Pokemon who follows her so endlessly is Booker, a teddiursa who’s pretty rough looking. He quietly trots behind, grouchy and stoic, they fight closely together a lot. He lost his mom a long time ago to poachers, and peach took him in, and changed her whole life for him. Not many people know, but Booker was the reason she left the rangers, changed career, and got so strong. Will tolerate people petting him but isn’t keen at all, grumbles a lot and tries to move away.

You may also need to know about the others, for the sake of writing, she here a few more bits that may be important to you, or others wanting to do this.

Grey is very tall, very burly, composed, tells bad dad jokes, is a bit of a goof if allowed to be. If he sees a pun, he’ll say it. Can’t help himself. Very nice guy to work with, good at keeping people calm and grounded. Pokemon are drawn to him like a moth to a flame, he gives off warm energy, and has inhuman amounts of patience. If you wrong his family however, he will snap back.

He grew up in the city, loves to swim and hike and cycle, can snowboard, is really sporty. A total brain box with held items, and boosting stats. He will explore many paths, to make sure visitors and students get the information they need, in a way that can be remembered and retained for later. Is a huge guy, but will get on the floor to play with a tiny Pokemon. Treats big “meaner” looking species like babies, very good with all pokemon.

His free time is spent either tinkering, swimming, or trimming his bonsai trees. This guy stares at screens a lot, so appreciates time away from them. Peach built him his own little greenhouse for his trees and tools, which he keeps clean and loves dearly.

His methods as a teacher are built around fun and games, he makes hard work easier to do by distracting trainers from the difficult bits, and focusing in on something more interesting or compelling.

His most commonly seen Pokemon would be a houndoom, Saxon, old battle veteran, retired now to herding and being a good boy. Very gentle, loves a pet.

Pari, now a fully fledged nurse, often oversees the labs front desk and pokecentre features, such as healing pokemon, and informing trainers who come to visit. Her skills with eggs and hatchlings is high, she’s great with younger Pokemon, and hands out good advice to trainers a lot. She’s not a fighter, never was, but can find any file, any study, any book, and any refrence you may need. A true bookworm, loves her romance novels, chat shows and upbeat celebrity gossip mags. Will cry at a lot of stuff, be it sad or happy.

She’s got a seriously upbeat personality, but if caught off guard or shocked, she gets a little flustered. Too much chaos will overwhelm her, but usually she’s on top of things. The years spent on the island have made her better at maintaining composure in emergencies. With lots of siblings, she’s very competent with others, and has a good ability to disarm cagey people with her jolly nature. Because of this, she can sometimes gain information from trainers that some of the more harsh professors may not have access to. Charming is a word for it.

Her partners are an eevee, and a happiny. They are quite sweet and well adjusted, the eevee gets a bit bouncy if you get it too excited.

#if you dont want to use the refs #im really cool with it #just enjoy yourself buddy #pokemon #prof.peach #peach talks #prof.grey #pari #dotaku island #dotaku staff #PLEASE #just ask me if you dont know something #or feel i missed something in what i wrote

188 notes · View notes

babydaddyleorio · 3 years

Text

Skating at ‘S’

context: How your boyfriend would teach/train you for your ‘S’ tournament.

Reki

-Reki would teach you how to skate for S in the same sense that he taught Langa how to. He would demonstrate moves for you and then allow you to take the floor and try It yourself.

-Of course you end up falling and busting your ass quite often, but Reki will still cheer you on and encourage you to keep going from the sidelines.

-Reki will spend all night crafting a skateboard that he thinks would be comfortable for you to ride on. He designs It with things that he knows that you like and really puts his whole heart into making It as special as possible since It’s for you.

-During your training sessions, he would search up skating videos that he believes are really good and will pull you close so you can see them. The both of you stare at the screen with sparkles in your eyes as you see a person perform a cool trick and you would be so inspired that you’d have to give it a go yourself.

-Reki would also take you to an S race so you can see firsthand how the skating world operates. At first you think that It’s insane and you kind of regret getting yourself into this, but when you see Reki fly past you with his face focused and determined, your heart would start racing in excitement and for a split second you think that skating against someone wouldn’t be as bad as you thought.

-Reki can not wait to show you tricks that he’s been practicing over the years. He shows you how to Kickflip and Ollie, and the ginormous smile on his face as he’s teaching you let’s you see that skating is something he really loves.

-Everyday with Reki is something to look forward to and you appreciate how much he’s been preparing you. He waits for you at the park as he looks down at his phone, but the minute he sees you his whole body perks up. He’d give you a high five and the both of you would drop your skateboards, riding to the secret hideout with him reassuring you that you’ll do great in your race.

Langa

-Langa is a good skater, but his teaching could use a bit of work.

-Langa would recognize that he probably isn’t the best person to be assigned the role of a coach, so he would recommend Reki to help you, but you would insist that it’s him that teaches you.

-He’s super flattered that you want him to help you skate and would finally agree with a small smile now on his face.

-However, by the first day of practice you realize that Langa is absolutely terrible at explaining things.

-Langa’s teaching methods tend to intersect with how he would snowboard. He will constantly slip up and use snowboarding lingo or skate as If he’s on top of snow, and he would have to remind himself to teach in a way that you would understand.

-He would try to demonstrate a move for you once he sees that you’re still not getting it, but the board would end up sliding just as he steps on It, and he’d fall flat on his face.

-Yeah, you always have the first-aid on deck whenever you’re around Langa.

-But Langa insists that despite how bad he is at teaching, skating at S is the most exhilarating thing he’s done. He would tell you about how he’s won most of his races, and at first you would be a bit skeptical since he can barely stand on his board without hurting himself.

-It wouldn’t be until you saw him in action at S that you would finally see just how graceful and how much of a fast learner he truly is. You were inspired and you made a goal to be just like Langa when competing in your S race.

-You would then try to mimic his moves during practice one day and Langa would be so surprised to see you actually getting the hang of it. He would start clapping and shouting loudly for you to keep going because you honestly looked amazing.

-Once you finished your performance, you would stop right in front of Langa and the two of you dap each other with large smiles because you knew that you had this race in the bag.

Cherry

-First, what were you thinking? And second, why ask him of all people?

-Cherry would at first decline teaching you because he honestly had better things to do, but he would eventually give in when you hit him with the puppy eyes.

-He has such a soft spot for you and it irritates him so much that you have him wrapped around your finger.

-Cherry would be a very strict and punctual teacher, one who will immediately point out your flaws and give you precise advice on how to fix them. This is S we’re talking about so there is no room for mistakes.

-You guys would be on a schedule, most likely training in the morning and the afternoons.

-Cherry would be somewhere in the shade, sipping from his drink calmly as you’re literally screaming at the top of your lungs as you zoom down the hill on your skateboard.

-Cherry would peak over his sunglasses at your body that was now stuck in a bush, but once he saw your legs slightly twitch, he’d come to the conclusion that you were okay although you clearly weren’t.

-He would get you your own technology based skateboard and you would be blown away at all the cool stuff It can do as you ride It. With this, he also gives you a digital layout of the obstacle courses so you know what to expect when it’s time to compete.

-Cherry would definitely be surprised when he comes out to your usual spot early one morning just to see you already practicing. You would have your balance down, be able to dodge obstacles, and be able to control your speed.

-You looked like a full fledged pro to say the least.

-Cherry would give you a half smirk as he stood and watched you, hiding It behind his fan.

-He was beyond impressed and would be slightly convinced that you could actually have a shot at winning your match.

Joe

-Joe is super chill when he’s teaching you how to skate for S.

-He will help you get on the board and hold on to your body as he slowly guides you, slyly releasing you from his embrace once he’s figured you got the hang of it.

-He would keep quiet when he’s watching you, but once he sees that you’re really struggling, he will eventually tell you what your problem is and offer some advice.

-Definitely the type to close his eyes with his hands behind his head, trying not to laugh as he hears the curses and shouts come from your mouth as you continuously fail.

-It reminds him of the time when he first entered a S match and how hard he worked himself to win.

-However, the minute you say that you want to give up, he would sit down next to you and give you words of encouragement. He’ll probably even show you a video that he sneakily took of you and would rave about how great your skills were improving, even If you couldn’t really see the difference.

-If you still needed motivation, he would lazily get up from his spot and show you how it's done. You would be blown away by how effortlessly he skates, as well as how he’s not afraid to take chances.

-You would also roll your eyes because that man is such a show off. His shirt just had to come off, huh?

-You would eventually get the hang of It and Joe would notice almost instantly. He’s very proud of you and would mutter something under his breath like “I knew you could do It.”

-After you finish skating, he takes you to his restaurant and cooks you a big meal. He’ll be laughing loudly as he tells you how great you’ll do at S tomorrow, plopping some spaghetti in his mouth as he cheeses at you.

353 notes · View notes

disturbedbydesign · 3 years

Text

The Widow and the Wolf - Chapter 3

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x dark!exWidow!reader

Summary: After Natasha Romanoff took down the Red Room, the former Widows scattered to the wind. Raised to be a killing machine and released into the world with nothing and no one, you decided to use your newfound autonomy to take down the bad guys of your choosing. But now Natasha is riddled with guilt for leaving you on your own. She wants to recruit you, rehabilitate you, make you part of a team again. But the rest of the squad has reservations, and no one is more against you than Bucky Barnes.

Warnings: Graphic violence; Mentions of domestic violence, rape, pedophilia, human trafficking, child sex trafficking; eventual Dubcon (not Bucky); eventual smut; slow(ish) burn enemies-to-lovers. [More warnings will be added as necessary but these are the Big Bads.] 18+ only, no minors.

If you prefer to read on AO3, you can do so here.

Chapter Three

If you had a home, it would be Bucharest, even though you despise the place. It was the first place you went when you got free, because you know he’s here somewhere, conducting his evil machinations from the shadows, shielded by layer after layer of vile men across the globe doing his dirty work. There are plenty of men out there deserving of your particular brand of justice, but no one more so than the Viper. Sometimes you think that, if you can just find him and take him out, you might be able to move on—try to make a normal life for yourself, whatever that looks like. You don’t allow yourself to think about what will happen if you finally achieve your life’s goal and it’s still not enough for you.

You remember everything about the day you learned of the Viper’s existence. You were just 7 years old, one of many little girls packed into a shipping container. You had no idea how long you’d been in there or how long you would be in there. It smelled rancid, and there was never a moment of quiet. Most of the girls were screaming or crying, but a few (like you) were silent, just observing. You don’t know who sold you from your orphanage and shipped you off to Dreykov and you never will. What you do know is that you had no family to miss and no one to miss you, so you didn’t understand what the others were so upset about. From the very beginning, you adjusted to life as a Widow almost effortlessly, which is its own form of tragedy.

Others, though, they were stolen away from people who loved them. This seemed a foreign concept to you when you heard about it from the tiny, sobbing girl huddled next to you in the shipping container—the girl who told you about the Viper, the girl who would become your first and only friend until Dreykov took control of all of your minds. Once you were given the serum, your memories were locked up inside your own heads—none of you could have talked about your past lives even if you’d wanted to. Your words were not your own. You didn’t know what was real and what was planted there. Sometimes you still don’t, and nothing terrifies you more than that.

You have no idea how many little girls the Viper funneled to Dreykov over the years, but it was probably a decent amount. His real bread and butter had always been sex trafficking, and he’s still doing it—on an even larger scale if your intel is correct (which, of course, it is). But he won’t be operating for much longer, not now that you’re so close you can almost taste the venom. You were barely 8 years old when you decided you would kill him, and now you have your chance. You are so close, closer than you’ve ever been, but he keeps slithering out of your grasp. And so you’re in Bucharest, again, looking for answers, again. But you have other business, too—almost as important, if not more so.

You head to the safehouse on the outskirts of the city. The building doesn’t look like much on the outside, but you’ve made sure the inside is comfortable enough for the women and children who live there. The matron greets you at the door and you hand her this month’s envelope, which contains enough cash to feed everyone for the next two months, keep the lights and the water on, and some extra to fix the plumbing issues that have been plaguing the building since you bought it.

The building can house about 40 people comfortably—it’s not nearly enough, and you’re determined to create as many safe spaces as you can, but it’ll do for now. For now, you have to select your charges according to a very strict criteria: they are all women and children (and the children of women) who have been bought and sold by the Viper. Some of them escaped on their own; some of them had assistance from you and the very few people you trust in the city. But all of them have suffered, and all of them have information that you need. Individually, it’s not much, but the more women you talk to, the more pieces of the puzzle you have to work with.

Besides for the cash drop, today you’re here to see the newest resident: Irina, a 19-year-old beauty your Bucharest contacts had managed to snatch from one of the sex clubs. Irina was delivered to the Viper at 12, and her life since then has been an endless nightmare that you can’t think about for too long without feeling physically ill. She’s sitting by the window in the living room, cupping a steaming mug of tea, when you approach her. You walk towards her slowly, and when Irina looks over at you, there is recognition in her eyes even though you’ve never met.

“You’re the Widow,” she says.

“Not anymore,” you reply. “But if that’s what you’d like to call me, go ahead. May I sit?” She gestures to the seat opposite her and you settle in for a chat. “I’d like to ask you some questions, Irina. Is that ok?”

“The others told me you’d be coming.” She speaks softly, her voice hoarse from screaming or crying or both. “I know what you’re trying to do. You’ll never catch him, you know.”

“I disagree,” you say, “but I need more information.”

“Alright,” she agrees, “if you think it will help,” and you begin the gentlest of interrogations.

Irina tells you that for the first several years after she was taken, she hadn’t heard anyone mention the Viper. She thinks that a lot of the girls probably knew about him or came directly from him, but no one would talk about it because it was too dangerous or traumatizing (or both). Things were different at her last club, though. When you ask her how many of the girls at Delirium knew about him, she tells you that several of them had passed through him somewhere along their journey. One of them—one far too young to be working there—even admitted that she’d been with him only two months earlier.

Finally, after all this time, you’ve got a clear line from point A to point B. You feel it in your bones that Delirium holds the answers, that if you can just get in and poke around a bit, you’ll be able to find him. You take Irina’s hands in yours and thank her for her help, and then you hear it: heavy footsteps coming down the hall. No woman or child in the building weighs enough to make a sound like that, and no men are allowed on the premises. You know who it is before you see him.

*****

Bucky watches you enter the building from his position on the roof across the street. His contact had told him that there were whispers of a Widow safehouse at this address, though no one would dare set foot within 10 blocks of the place to find out. Bucky doesn’t believe the rumor, though. He knows you work alone, that you pride yourself on it. He assumes this is just one of many places where your targets meet their ends, and he knows enough about Bucharest to know that there are a lot of men in this city who fit your modus operandi.

Still, something is off. It’s not an empty building. There have been women and children coming and going all morning, and nearly all the apartments seem occupied. Why would you choose to do your dirty work in a place with so much activity, with so many innocents around? That seems not only impractical but beneath even you. He’s lost in these thoughts, checking each window with his binoculars, when he settles on a beautiful young girl staring out the window, looking desperately sad. She turns to look at someone he can’t see, and then he sees you emerge from the shadows and take a seat opposite her.

There’s a softness to your face—a gentle kindness—that knocks the wind out of him. Bucky can’t take his eyes off of you, analyzing your body language and facial expressions to try to figure out what the hell is going on. This is the last thing he expected to see, and he tells himself that this woman must be hiring you for a job—except the woman is nothing but a broken child and doesn’t look like someone who would be taking out a hit on somebody (and certainly not someone who could pay for one).

It’s unnerving, watching you this way, and Bucky is no longer sure that what he’s doing is right. There’s something about your interaction with this girl that makes him feel like a voyeur, witnessing an intimate moment that he should not be seeing but that fascinates him nonetheless. Still, he’s here, you’re his mission—albeit one he took upon himself—and he needs to finish it. By this time, Natasha and Steve are almost certainly on their way, and Bucky needs to get to you before they show up. He went rogue and committed to this plan; now he just has to execute it. He’ll deal with the consequences later.

Bucky makes his way across the street and around the back, where children’s toys litter the small yard of weeds and dirt. When he gets to the back door, he notices that it isn’t the usual ancient rusted lock that one finds on the old buildings in this neighborhood; it’s brand new tech. There’s a pretty decent security camera setup around the building, too.

What the hell is this place?

Bucky has two choices: he can rip the door off the hinges, or he can scale the building and climb in the open window on the top floor. You’re going to be homicidally pissed either way, so he might as well not destroy any property—you may be a monster, but the other tenants here look like civilians, and he doesn’t want to sacrifice their security in his quest to bring you in.

Bucky makes it into the building and weaves his way through the hallways. Along the way, he runs into a few women, and each one of them freezes when they see him. They are shocked and deathly afraid—a look he knows far too well—and they scurry back to their apartments and lock the doors. With his hair cut short, baseball cap pulled down, and leather jacket and glove hiding his prosthetic, it doesn’t seem possible that all of these women would immediately recognize him as the Winter Soldier. That’s what it feels like to him, though, and it’s a gut-punch sensation he does not like at all.

When he gets to the sitting room, the girl you are with has the same look of terror, and for a moment, so do you. But you snap back to yourself quickly—having gone from soft to terrified to hostile within a span of about 15 seconds. Before he can react, you stomp towards him, grab him by the jacket, and hiss, “Not here.”

Bucky hears you speak to the girl in Romanian, “Don’t be afraid, Irina. He’s a friend,” although he knows you think him anything but.

The second you get him into the hallway, you’ve got your knife to his throat. Even with your cold blade nicking his skin, Bucky fights the impulse to disarm you. He doesn’t want to fight you. He knows that he’s intruded on something here, though he doesn’t know what, and he actually feels guilty. He could break you in half if he wanted to, but he lets you pin him to the wall—lets you feel like you’re in control.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” you growl.

“You know why I’m here,” Bucky replies, but he doesn’t know—not really, not anymore. “What is this place?”

“It’s somewhere safe,” you say, “or it was until you showed up. No boys allowed, Soldat. Time to go.”

You catch him off guard when you flip him around and throw him through the nearest door, and before he can regain his balance, you kick him straight through the window and into the yard two storeys below. The fall is nothing to Bucky, and he knows that you know that, but it certainly made a statement. He looks up at the broken window he’d just crashed through and sees you peering out with a satisfied smile on your face.

Bucky calls up to you, “I just want to talk.”

“Bullshit,” you snap.

“I mean it,” he says, and he actually does. “You can pick the place.”

He watches as you consider his offer, weighing your options—you obviously don’t trust him, but it’s clear that the sanctity of this location is important to you. Now that he’s violated it, you can’t just let him wander off. You agree to meet with him that evening—in public, at a club in Old Town.

“Come alone, Soldat,” you call down to him, “and if you tell anyone about this place, I’ll throw you out a higher window.”

Bucky tries to hide his tiny smile but he knows you see it, just like he sees the little quirk of your lip just before you disappear. He hoists himself off the ground and brushes himself off. When he turns to leave, he sees a little girl holding hands with her mother. He has no idea how long they’ve been standing there, but the girl is pointing and giggling at him.

The little girl asks, “What happened to him, mama?”

“The Widow’s bite,” she replies.

*****

“He’s not going to hurt her, Natasha,” Steve says as he prepares the Quinjet for landing.

“She might not give him a choice,” she replies, strapping herself in. “What the hell was he thinking coming here alone?”

“I don’t know,” Steve says. “There’s something about this girl that’s really gotten under his skin.”

Natasha looks at Steve, asking the question with her eyes she wouldn’t dare say aloud, and he picks up what she’s putting out.

“He’s not the Winter Soldier anymore. All of that programming… it’s gone. You know that. He’s just Bucky now.”

Natasha nods in agreement, but a part of her still has questions—not whether the deprogramming worked, she knows that it did, and she trusts Bucky with her life. No, Natasha’s concern is what is going on inside Bucky’s head. He was doing well, he was adjusting, he was finally ok, but the existence of you seems to have triggered something in him that the words never had. The words made him cold and empty and ready to comply, but you—you make him think, and Natasha knows how dangerous it can be to dwell too much on things you’ve left in the past.

When Steve and Natasha arrive at Bucky’s old apartment, it’s empty, but there are small signs of life—the indent of a head on the pillow on the floor in the corner, an apple core just starting to brown. He’s been there, and recently. Natasha and Steve don’t know who he would still have contact with in Bucharest, so they are left with nothing to go on. Bucky knows how to cover his tracks, and he left them just enough crumbs to get them to Bucharest but not enough that they could find him when they got there.

“He wants us to trust him,” Steve says, “to wait for him to bring her back here.”

“I can’t just sit around waiting for something to happen, Steve. I have a really bad feeling about this.”

“So what do you suggest we do?” Steve asks.

Natasha sighs and looks out the window. “I have no idea,” she replies, and that’s when she sees it: a piece of graffiti spraypainted on the wall of a building down the street—a coiled snake ready to strike.

The memory hits Natasha like a freight train. She knows that symbol. She knows what it means. She knows exactly who you’re looking for and it seems absurd to her now that she hadn’t thought of it before.

“Let me make a call,” she says. “I think I know why she’s here.”

#bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes #sebastian stan #dark!reader #dark!fic #the widow and the wolf

105 notes · View notes

an-angel-in-the-garden · 3 years

Note

I know they're more or less minor characters, but could I request relationship hcs for the Iscariot organization (hellsing) please?

I haven't watched hellsing in a bit and I don't remember much of them so I looked over the wikis and made it based on that~ Rose

We start with the fact that dating any of them is hard. They fallow a strict code and dont really plan to change the views they have however as you’ve managed to worm your way into their hearts here are some things to know CW: Slightly unhealthy relationship

Alexander Anderson

Anderson is very blunt and your relationship is built on trust and patience because of it

He can be a bit harsh but when you guy have been together for a awhile it he softens up

You’ll have to deal with him always talking about his work with the vampires and the church

Though it might not seem like it he wont be mad if your not religious or worship a different god it might take him some time getting use to it but your his lover and as long as you dont bash his god its cool

Not big on PDA but will hold your hand if public if he’s not working

Calls you love

Gives you a necklace with a small cross on it you dont have to wear it but it means alot for him to give you it

Always ready to protect you with his life

Heinkel Wolfe

She’s straight forward in her approach though she comes off cold and harsh to some she is anything but to you

It takes her a while to grow close to you especially if your not apart of the church but once she does it doesn't really bother her if your not religious all she ask is you take her beliefs serious as she does for you

Heinkel likes to take you on dates mostly to small in the wall cafes but its always nice with her

She has Yumiko look after you if she busy that day so you and her probably become good friends

Please make her meals home cooking is something she loves your putting time in to not only make sure she eats but that’s it good food

Heinkel calls you sweetie in private and by your name or a shorting of it in public

She’s okay with PDA hugs handholding maybe a small kiss as long as her higher ups aren't around she's fine with it

She will try and keep you from her work if your not apart of it already yeah you know of it but there no reason for her to talk about after she just wants your time to be focused on yourselves

Yumiko Takagi

Yumiko is straight forward and fearless on most things in her life this is no different

She’s harder to get together Yumiko isn't very open to people who dont fallow the same path as her so if your not on board with her its gonna take a lot more work for her to view you as some she’s even ok with

Once that bridge is crossed its still rough sailing but it even outs for her tough points you get back lots of love and safety

Give her a hand made gift food or anything like that and she might cry its not often she can clam down for this hectic world and given how she works it easy for her to forget the kindness in the world

Your her fay of light and she treasures you above many things

Yumiko calls you lovely though its rare and she wants you to call her Yumi

PDA is good for her as long as she not around the other members of the church for work she doesn’t mind most thing hand holding hugs light kisses or an arm around you waist is fine

Get use to Heinkel being around that's her close friend and partner if she cant be with you Heinkel will be most times

Yumi can come off a bit strong and it easy for her to get worked up so be sure to help her come back down when she's not working

Enrico Maxwell

Very strict about the relationship

He’s harsh he doesn't want to be but in the end he feels with his responsibly it would be better if people didn't know he was dating someone

Maxwell will make this up to you though nice things and soft love to show you that he truly cares for you

Try's not to talk about his work other then what he does as a bishop and not even all of it

Is pretty controlling but with as mutilative as he is you might not even realize in his eyes he’s keeping you safe

Loves when you call him nicknames when alone like love dear honey it makes him soft remind him you love him and that this is okay

Maxwell calls you darling and really like brushing his hand over you cheek

Forehead kisses all the time

NO PDA ever he loves you yeah but others cant know

Your his little secret

wow okay that took awhile sorry I get kinda busy during the weekdays so I might be slower then but this was fun trying to figure them out more I hope you all like it ~ Rose

#hellsing x reader #hellsing imagines #x reader #reader imagine #enrico maxwell x reader #yumiko x reader #heinkel wolfe x reader #alexander anderson x reader

145 notes · View notes

quickspinner · 3 years

Text

Not Exactly a Loophole (but he'll take it)

Luka's got a crush on one of his regulars, but there's just one problem. His mom may not be big on rules, but when it comes to her bar Nanarchy's, the few she has are nonnegotiable--including the rule that employees are not allowed to ask out patrons. With Juleka also pining for a cute customer, Luka's determined to find a loophole...but the universe seems to have its own plans.

Rating: T (mostly for language)

This one is a belated birthday gift, but not for me--for the lovely @mamanabeille! It was meant to be a meet cute featuring EMT Marinette, but bartender Luka kinda stole the spotlight, so it didn’t quite come out like I intended, but I hope you all (and especially MA!) enjoy it anyway!

The bar was nearly empty the first time she walked in, but Luka was sure he would have noticed her in the craziest crowd. She paused in her approach to the bar when she saw him, but when Luka gave her a friendly smile and simply asked what he could get her, she came the rest of the way over and slid onto a stool, ordering her drink in a quiet, hesitant voice, pulling out her wallet..

“I thought Juleka was working tonight,” she said as he took her card and opened a tab for her.

“She will be.” He glanced at the clock. “In about an hour.”

Her eyes widened slightly. “An—“ She frowned, pulling out her phone, and then something seemed to click and she folded her arms, pouting, as he set up to mix her drink. Luka felt like pouting, too, over the fact that Juleka had seen her first. She was really cute.

“They told me the wrong time,” she grumbled. “Because they thought I would be late. Which means I nearly killed myself getting home to change and get back here for nothing .”

“Not for nothing,” Luka said easily. “Juleka’ll be here in an hour. We’re not busy, I don’t mind if you camp out. You look amazing, I’m sure she wouldn’t want to miss you.”

She looked a little confused for a moment, and then her eyes went round and she touched her fingertips to her soft red mouth. “Oh, n-no, I’m not, uh—I mean I don’t um—“

Luka winked at her. “It’s okay, I won’t tell her anything.”

“Rose!” she squeaked, waving her hands so frantically that Luka instinctively slid her drink out of the way. “I’m friends with Rose! She wanted to come while Juleka was working, and I had a—a bad experience at the bar I used to go to, and she said that kind of thing doesn’t happen here, and a bunch of us were supposed to meet up so Rose could fli—TALK! To Juleka and the rest of us could have a drink and hang out in peace but they gave me the wrong time because I’m late for everything, but for once I’m not late and now I’m stuck here with you and—“ She slapped a hand over her mouth and looked so horrified that Luka could only laugh.

“Well, Rose is right, we don’t allow any kind of disrespectful behavior here, my mom’s very strict about it. She values Nanarchy ’s reputation as a safe space and she’s very particular about it. I promise you, being her son wouldn’t excuse me from an ass-kicking if I was inappropriate with you, or stood by while anyone else was, so feel free to hang out and wait for your friends.” He picked up another glass, flipped it in his hand before scooping it full of ice, and then he filled it with water and set it in front of his reluctant customer. “My name’s Luka, just let me know if you need anything.”

He lingered long enough for her to smile tentatively back at him, and then busied himself far enough away from her that she wouldn’t feel crowded, setting up the wells and making sure everything was stocked and topped off before the rush started.

Marinette nursed her drink and pouted, annoyed with her friends for wasting her time this way. Sure, she was always late, but her job was demanding and she wasn’t always in control of when she was able to leave. She couldn’t just ditch Adrien to handle it all, that would be mean. As it was, she’d been late leaving her shift today, and she had scrambled home to get home and get herself presentable and get here in time.

Then she walked in, triumphantly on time and not even in her work clothes, and those losers she called friends weren’t even here! And then she got all confused and tongue-tied and practically preemptively accused the cute bartender of harassment, even though in two minutes of conversation she could tell that he wasn’t anything like that guy that ran Graham’s and—

She groaned quietly and dropped her head on her arms.

Luka didn’t look back at her, but there was a slight quirk of his lips and the tiniest motion of his head in her direction that said he knew she was watching him. He set the two handful of beers he had just picked up on the bar in front of him and dipped a hand in his back pocket, coming out with a bottle opener spinning on one finger. He flicked the caps off the bottles in quick succession and then with another twirl, the bottle opener went back to his pocket like a six-shooter into a cowboy’s holster in some old western. Marinette giggled, and only then did he tilt his head in her direction and wink.

Marinette squeaked and buried her suddenly red face back in her arms. She was pretty sure she heard a low chuckle from down the bar.

Juleka walked in about forty-five minutes later. She took one look at Luka and asked, “What happened?”

“Hmm?” Luka looked up at her from where he was slicing limes.

“That’s the dumbest grin I’ve ever seen on your face,” Juleka commented as she tied her apron on. “And that’s saying a lot. What gives?”

“Nothing,” Luka said, resisting the temptation to squirt her with lime juice. It was too early in the evening to escalate that far. “I’m just in a good mood.”

Juleka’s eyebrows raised. “You’re always in a good mood. You don’t always grin like a dope.” Luka opened his mouth to say something rude when they were both distracted by a surprisingly strong but very feminine voice carrying the length of the bar.

“Luka!” Both of them looked down the bar to the pretty dark-haired lady waving at him (and wincing slightly as she realized how loud she’d been), and Luka’s grin grew wider as he waved a hand to acknowledge her.

“I’ll get it,” Juleka said as he reached for a towel to clean his hands.

Luka took a step back to block her from getting around him. “Oh no you don’t. She’s my customer.”

Juleka blinked at him in surprise and then smirked. “Oh. I see.”

“You see nothing,” Luka told her, tossing the towel at her face as he made a beeline down the bar. “Back off. You can serve their table later, but while she’s at the bar, she’s mine.”

“Never knew you were so possessive,” Juleka muttered, moving the towel aside with two fingers and dropping it into the dirty bin with a gesture of distaste.

“Laugh it up, I’m gonna get you back soon,” Luka called back, and turned to his customer. “Doing all right? What can I get for you?” he asked, smiling as he leaned his hands on the bar in front of her.

“My friends are almost here,” she said, setting her phone on the bar where he could see the message chain. “I was going to go ahead and order for them if that’s okay?”

“Yeah, sure,” Luka said, looking at the list of drinks. When he was sure he had the order, he leaned back and smiled at her. “You can go find a table if you want, I’ll get the drinks ready and have Juleka bring them to you.” He winked, and she giggled.

“That would be perfect. And...thanks, Luka,” she smiled, blushing a little, and he thought his heart was going to burst out of his chest. “My name’s Marinette, by the way. Which...you actually probably knew, because you opened my tab, um...”

“I did,” he grinned, and began setting up glasses on the bar top. “But it’s nice to hear it from you.” Marinette gathered her things slowly; she’d spread out across the bar as she’d waited, with pens and a small notebook and a set of index cards with neat notes scattered across her part of the bar.

Luka pulled his mind to the task, picking up a jigger and flipping it in his hand. Realizing that Marinette was still watching him, he poured some liquor and then gave the jigger a flip around his hand as he made eye contact with Marinette. He had to chuckle when her eyes widened slightly and her face flamed up red. She forgot all about picking up her things as she watched him mix the drinks, and he struggled not to show off too much, amused at her fascination. He quirked an eyebrow at her and she suddenly remembered what she was supposed to be doing, and began picking her things up haphazardly. She reached for a pen, but knocked it with her fingers, sending it spinning off the back of the bar.

“Oh, I’m so sorry—” she exclaimed just as Luka’s hand snapped out and caught it before it could fall to the floor. Fortunately he hadn’t been holding anything liquid at the time, and he hastily picked up the shaker he’d dropped on the bar and set it back upright before handing Marinette her pen back.

“It’s okay,” he said soothingly. “No big, Marinette. Relax.”

She was staring at him, her blue eyes round, and slowly she took the pen back from him. “Thanks,” she whispered, and shrank a little, tucking the last few things in her purse.

“My pleasure,” Luka smiled. “Seriously, Marinette, you’re here to unwind. Don’t sweat the small stuff, okay? No pressure here. Just take your time.” He flipped a shaker up over his shoulder and caught it behind his back, and Marinette put her chin in her fist and pouted again.

“How do you do that?” she asked enviously. “I’m such a klutz when I’m not focusing.”

“Practice,” Luka shrugged. “I’ve been working here since I was old enough to be behind the bar, so. It’s not really anything special, but it makes pretty girls smile, so…” He grinned at her, and then motioned behind her. “Table six is the quietest, over there by the wall. I’ll have the rest of these done in just a minute, and—”

“Marinette!” someone squealed from the door and Luka chuckled.

“—And there’s your friends,” he said, as Marinette turned and waved.

She turned back and gave him a smile that nearly knocked him off his feet. “Thanks a bunch, Luka, really. You’ve been great.”

“Any time,” he barely managed to answer, and had to swallow quickly afterwards. He mixed the rest of the drinks on autopilot, his eyes darting back to Marinette as she and her friends settled at their table. He saw the petite blond with her raise her hand and wiggle her fingers, and a quick glance down the bar showed him Juleka standing as if she had been hit in the back of the head with a board, a faint rosy color tinting her pale cheeks.

Luka grinned and loaded the cocktails on a tray before carrying them down to her. “These are for six,” he told her, and she looked at him stupidly. Luka smirked. “You know that saying about people who live in glass houses?” he grinned, nudging her arm before he headed back to the next customer waving for his attention. “Don’t drop anything,” he called back, and heard Juleka snort.

***

Girls Night was no longer the trial that it used to be. Marinette loved everything about Nanarcy’s . Their aesthetic was cool and unique, their atmosphere was fun and chaotic in a controlled way, their live music nights were amazing, and they didn’t overpour, so everybody was only as drunk as they wanted to be at the end of the night.

And their bartenders were hot. Rose was head over heels for the quiet, dark-haired Juleka, and Marinette was pretty well smitten by the kind, gentle man with the shaggy hair and the soft eyes, who never seemed to take offense no matter how many times she put her foot in her mouth. She’d never been as early as she had that first day, but she did rush just a little to beat the girls there, so that she could sit and talk to Luka for a bit before the rush hit.

He was just so nice , and easy to talk to, and perceptive, and she always relaxed after a few minutes in his company.

Unfortunately Marinette couldn’t be early all the time, and the girls were already at their table and there was already a crowd at the bar before she arrived.

She stood on her tiptoes, looking over the crowd, and saw Luka about the same time he saw her. He flashed her a broad grin that set butterflies wild in her stomach. She gave him a small wave and then formed her fingers into a d, their sign that she was the designated driver tonight. She saw him nod, and started working her way through the crowd to the bar.

Luka picked up his napkin and did that funny flick with his fingers that sent it spinning onto the bar right in front of her. Marinette really wanted to know how he did that, but his hand moved so fast she couldn’t follow it no matter how many times she watched him. She saw him chuckle at her pout as he flipped a tumbler in his hand, filled it with ice and soda water, and then set it on the napkin. “Good to see you, Marinette,�� was all he had time to say, but his warm, smooth voice still made her melt a little on the inside.

She lingered at the bar for just a moment, watching him joke and banter as he flipped and spun bottles and tumblers and shakers, dropping them to catch behind his back, his movements all smooth and practiced. He’d told her once that what he did wasn’t actually that hard, but it still looked like magic to her. It had surprised her at first; he’d struck her as a quiet, laid-back kind of guy, not someone who enjoyed crowds and attention—but then she’d seen him play with the band one night, and understood. Luka might be quiet on his own, but in front of an audience, he was a performer, and if she’d thought what he did behind the bar was impressive, seeing him on stage with his guitar was, well...breathtaking.

For all that flash, though, it was watching him shake a drink that made her go weak, eyes glued to the lines of his arms and the slight smirk on his face. Marinette picked up her soda and headed back to the girls’ table before she could embarrass herself by swooning on the bar. The girls gave her knowing looks when she arrived, but other than the smirks, they left her mercifully alone about her increasingly obvious crush.

Marinette felt fortunate that Rose was more fun to tease (and safer; Rose didn’t flail and knock over drinks when she got flustered). Rose blushed and denied and then gave herself away by sighing dreamily as she looked at the tall girl behind the bar. Marinette couldn’t help covering a snicker with her hand, though as her gaze followed Rose’s, her traitorous eyes snapped straight to Luka.

He seemed to be in some kind of one-up contest with his sister, the grin on his face positively wicked as he balanced a cocktail on a bar spoon on his forearm—which required to him to keep his arm flexed in a way that made the normally subtle swell of muscles along his arm much more obvious. Marinette groaned and leaned on Rose, who was peeking through her fingertips and trying not to squeal as Juleka rolled her eyes and set up a row of glasses in front of the bar. Twirling a bottle in each hand, Juleka smirked at Luka. Luka was good, but Juleka obviously outmatched him in this context. She was herself beautiful and elegant, with her hair tied back in a thick braid and perfectly done makeup that highlighted her fine bone structure. Her features were a little rounder than Luka’s sharp angles, and she was tall and slender without being as lanky as Luka. The pair of them together were unfairly attractive.

Juleka’s motions at the bar were fluid and graceful, without any wasted movement, and she was fast . She filled the cocktails on the bar in front of her, mixing them up first and then stacking the shakers to pour all four glasses at once. Then she turned to Luka, plucked the glass off of his spoon with a lifted eyebrow, and set it on her tray, swinging it up onto her shoulder. Luka made a laughing gesture that was clearly I surrender , and Juleka smirked as she went around the side of the bar.

“She’s so beautiful,” Rose swooned into Marinette’s side, and Marinette smiled, bumping her shoulder into Rose, who just flopped in the other direction to drape herself over Mylene and sigh some more. Marinette gave her friend an affectionate look, and then tried to school her expression as Juleka appeared at their table, setting cocktails in front of them with practiced ease and a quiet, “Welcome back,” with a subtle smile. Her eyes, though a different color, were as intense as Luka’s, and Marinette thought they stayed focused on Rose for a beat longer than the others. Then Juleka’s gaze flicked to Marinette’s drink and her eyebrows lifted slightly. “Refill?” she asked.

“No thank you,” Marinette said automatically, and Juleka nodded. Those amber eyes flicked back to Rose as she set the last cocktail down in front of her. “Enjoy,” was all she said, but there was a subtle quirk of a smile to her lips, and Marinette could feel Rose freezing like a deer in the headlights at her side. Then Juleka was gone again, her heavy braid swinging behind her, before Rose could even think of anything to say back.

“Ooh,” Rose moaned, frustrated, grabbing her drink.

“Next time,” Mylene said consolingly, patting Rose’s arm. “It’s busy here tonight. I’m sure she’ll be back when there’s more time to chat.”

That was true, Marinette thought, but still...they’d been coming here for weeks and things didn’t seem to be going anywhere. She’d thought Juleka was interested but maybe…

“You know what, I’ve changed my mind,” she said, picking up her glass and sliding out of her seat. “I think I do want a refill.”

“It just tastes better when Luka serves it,” Alix snickered, and Marinette pretended not to hear her as she made her way to the bar. She needed some answers, and maybe it was time to try the direct approach.

Luka was hopeless, he knew, watching Marinette’s table out of the corner of his eye even as he teased Juleka. He didn’t care if it made sense or not; he was crazy into the girl, and her mere presence made him feel more alive.

Juleka snatched his cocktail and Luka had to move quickly to catch the bar spoon and dump it in the bin. He waved Juleka off with a laugh and glanced back at the table again where Marinette was consoling her little blond friend, who was clearly suffering after Juleka’s display. That only made him grin wider.

Luka allowed himself one lovesick sigh. Marinette was so beautiful, and he loved the way she put so much individuality into the way she dressed, and the contours of the muscles in her arms as she waved them about, talking with her hands. She was funny, and she was sweet, and she was smart , and every time she came in he entertained fantasies of quitting on the spot, confessing his love, and running off with Marinette in the rain (he wasn’t sure why it was always raining in his fantasies, but it seemed to fit her for some reason). His mom would probably forgive him. Eventually.

Juleka would kill him though, and besides, he liked his job and he got to see Marinette almost every week. And...maybe he was a little bit chicken. Just a tiny bit. There was every chance that instead of falling into his arms and agreeing to run away with him, Marinette would be startled and freaked out and run away without him, and then he’d be out of a job with a broken heart in the bargain. Just because she liked joking around with him, and watching him (because he definitely didn’t miss her eyes on him, with as often as his were on her), didn’t mean she was interested in the reality of dating him—especially if he were suddenly jobless.

So the fantasies would stay just that for now.

Ugh, sometimes he really wanted to...hug his mother in a bone-crushing but loving way and tell her that for someone so hung up on freedom, her rules were a righteous pain in his ass.

That would probably get him fired too. If you fire me, I’ll have to come live back at home with you , he mentally argued with his imaginary mother, but it didn’t work any better in his imagination than it would have in real life.

Unfortunately Juleka didn’t seem to be having any better luck than he did. Luka had a half-formed plan to call in a favor so he could get Juleka cut early, so that she could run into Rose on her way out and get around Anarka’s rules that way, when he was startled out of his thoughts by someone calling his name.

Luka was moving down the bar to smile at Marinette before he’d even fully processed that she was calling him, but the crease between her brows made him hesitate slightly.

“Juleka didn’t get you a refill?” he asked, but Marinette shook her head.

“I told her I didn’t need one, and then I changed my mind.” She set her glass on the table and nudged it towards him. “Also...well, I want to ask you something.” She shifted uncomfortably, and Luka swallowed as if that would keep the sudden butterflies in his stomach confined there.

“Anything,” he said glibly, with a smile that showed no trace of his nervousness. “What’s on your mind?”

“Well, it’s just...do you think…” She glanced up at him shyly, and looked down, cheeks pinking.

Luka leaned his elbows on the counter and lowered his head, cocking it slightly to show he was listening. His fingers laced together and squeezed tight in front of him.

“Does Juleka like Rose?” Marinette asked, glancing nervously back at their table.

Luka blinked. “Ah…”

“Before you answer,” Marinette said quickly, turning back to him. “It’s just that Rose really, really likes Juleka, but Juleka hasn’t...well she does flirt some, but Rose isn’t sure, and...I just don’t want to be encouraging her to pursue something hopeless, so I’d really appreciate it if you’d tell me now if Juleka’s not interested in her. I won’t say anything to Rose, not directly, I just...if it’s not going to happen, I can maybe get her to—”

“It’s not hopeless,” Luka interrupted, trying not to laugh, though whether at his own stupidity or Rose and Juleka’s, he wasn’t sure. “It’s definitely not hopeless. The only thing hopeless is my poor little sister.”

“Oh,” Marinette breathed, and then smiled. “Okay then. I’ll tell Rose not to give up?”

“Definitely not,” Luka confirmed, straightening. “But we’re not allowed to ask out customers, so she’s either got to catch Juleka on off hours or make the first move herself. Mom’s a real stickler about it. I’d get in less trouble for being high on the job than hitting on a customer.”

“Oh,” Marinette’s eyes widened slightly. “Oh, I see. I...I guess that makes sense. And Rose hasn’t wanted to be creepy if Juleka was just…” She blushed, surprisingly intensely. “You know, being nice because it’s her job.”

Luka snorted. “Juleka’s not nice.”

Something hit the back of his head and Luka straightened to find Juleka glaring at him. “What are you saying about me, jerk?” she demanded, and Luka rolled his eyes, looking back at Marinette.

“See?” he grinned.

“Shut up and move,” Juleka grunted, shoving his arm until he stepped aside for her to get by.

“Someone’s in a mood,” he called after her, and she turned her back to the bar and flipped him off where only he could see.

“Rude,” he chuckled, and focused back on Marinette. “Look, I can’t speak for her, but as her brother...I don’t think your friend has anything to worry about, yeah?”

Marinette gave him a dazzling smile. “Thanks Luka. I really appreciate it.”

“Anything for you,” he grinned automatically.

“Send us another round for the table when you get a chance?”

“Sure. I’ll have Jules drop it off.” He winked at her, and her smile got even brighter.

“Perfect.” She gave a happy little bounce before she hopped off the stool and went back to the table. Luka watched her go, and saw her look back at him over her shoulder. He sighed.

“Dumbass,” he said to himself, shaking his head as he turned away to get their drinks ready.

Well, at least Juleka would be happy. If Rose still felt weird about asking her out, he could still try and get Juleka cut early the next weekend. Victor was always asking for more hours, surely he’d do Luka a favor if it meant weekend night tips…

Not that that helped Luka any. He looked back towards Marinette’s table and sighed.

Well, he’d get his own chance eventually—or he’d make one, if he had to.

***

“I’m missing girl’s night,” Marinette huffed, throwing herself behind the wheel. She was missing seeing Luka, she thought petulantly. Her one night a week to see him and she was missing it because Adrien had said something stupid to the person resonsible for their schedules, and she was his partner, so she was guilty by association.

“I said I was sorry,” Adrien sighed, hauling himself up into the passenger side of the ambulance.”

“Say it again,” Marinette grumbled.

Adrien groaned, slumping into his seat. “I promise that I have never in my life been more sorry than I am at this moment, facing this whole shift with you in this mood.”

Marinette glared at him, but the radio called their attention.

Their first few calls were simple enough, but the next one made Marinette suck in her breath sharply.

“What?” Adrien asked, looking at her.

“That’s my girls’ night bar,” Marinette breathed. “26-year-old male…it could be Luka...”

Adrien raised an eyebrow at her. “You want to pass it on?” he asked, not unkindly.

Marinette shook her head. “Nobody else is even close. Let’s go, but you take lead if it’s—if it’s someone I know.”

“It’s probably not,” Adrien reassured her, flipping on the lights and sirens.

Marinette made a noncommittal noise, trying to ignore the cold weight that had settled in the pit of her stomach. Adrien put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed—and then braced himself as Marinette pulled out into traffic.

When they walked into the bar, they had to shove their way through the crowd that had formed in a ring being kept back by a man and a woman wearing shirts that identified them as security.

“Marinette!” Rose cried, waving at her with one hand, and for an instant, Marinette froze.

Luka was sitting in a chair, looking dazed. He kept trying to get up, but Juleka shoved him back down with one hand. Rose was pressing a blood-stained towel to his head.

“Oh no,” Marinette murmured. Adrien squeezed her arm, and then moved past her, his stride purposeful. Marinette pulled herself together and followed, pressing her lips together. This was her job, after all, and she was good at it. It was just another call, and Luka would be fine.

Luka was confused as hell, and his brain didn’t quite feel connected to his body. He was vaguely aware that his head hurt, but he couldn’t seem to make sense of what was going on. He’d woken up on the floor, and then he’d nearly fallen when he tried to stand, and Juleka had shoved him into a chair and fluttered over him, alternately swearing at him and sounding at the edge of tears, and Luka still had no idea what was going on.

“What happened?” he asked.

“You’re a fucking idiot, that’s what happened,” snapped Juleka. “We have bouncers for a reason , dumbass.”

“Bouncers?” Luka asked, bewildered. He blinked, trying to focus and clear the fog from his mind. The room didn’t seem to want to be still. It wasn’t spinning, exactly, just tilted to the left slightly. A flash of white crossed his vision and he focused on it for a moment, and then blinked again, still confused and sure he couldn’t be seeing what he was seeing. “Marinette?”

“Hey, Luka,” she smiled, leaning over him.

Luka grinned. “Hi.” Then he frowned. “Thought you were working tonight.”

“I am working,” Marinette said gently, pulling something out of her breast pocket, and Luka vaguely registered that the white he had seen was some kind of uniform shirt. Then he jumped slightly and blinked as she shone a light in his eyes. “He lost consciousness?” she asked, but then Luka was distracted from Marinette as someone else took his arm. He blinked down at a blond man that had knelt next to his chair and was pulling... stuff out of a bag beside him.

“Yes,” Rose confirmed from somewhere behind him.

“Luka, was it?” the blond man asked. “I’m Adrien. What’s the last thing you remember?”

“Kentucky sunrise,” Luka muttered. “Told Jules to keep an eye on the guy, he seemed shady.”

“He was shady,” Juleka said, fingers squeezing on his shoulder. “He got nasty and I told him to leave, and he grabbed me, and then this idiot jumped the bar to come get involved and—it’s kind of a blur after that, but he got Luka in the head with a glass or a bottle or something.”

“Where’s the guy now?” Marinette asked.

“Ivan’s got him in the back, waiting for the cops.”

Luka tried to follow the conversation, but he couldn’t seem to concentrate for very long. Adrien started asking him questions, and Luka’s world greyed out a bit as he tried to focus enough to give the right answer. They seemed like really dumb questions, and Adrien kept touching Luka’s head where it hurt. Luka tried to push his hands away, but Marinette caught Luka’s hand and squeezed it tight. Luka looked back at her, focusing on the cool blue of her eyes. She asked him something, but he didn’t quite catch it.

Fuck, he was tired. He just wanted to get somewhere quiet and dark and less peopled and go to sleep.

Marinette’s hand on his cheek brought him back to reality a bit. She was frowning. “Luka, do you feel sick?”

“No,” Luka sighed, eyes fluttering closed. “Just tired.”

“Luka,” Marinette said sharply, and he opened his eyes again. “Don’t go to sleep, okay?”

Luka whined, but tried to keep his eyes open. He leaned his head on Juleka’s stomach, and felt her hand stroke gently through his hair. He must really be messed up, he thought with mild amusement, for Jules to be that gentle.

“I think we better take him in for evaluation,” Marinette said to...someone. “He’s definitely got a concussion, and that head lac needs stitches.”

“Agreed,” said Adrien, and Luka began to lose the battle to stay awake. “Come on, stay with us.” Someone squeezed Luka’s arm, and Luka struggled to open his eyes again.

Luka lost track of what was going on after that, moving mechanically when someone asked him to and just trying to stay awake. The only thing he really registered was Marinette leaning over him in the back of the ambulance, stroking his hair back from his face and looking at him with such softness that his breath caught even through his fog. “I’ll drive,” she said. “Take care of him for me.”

Luka was confused until Marinette disappeared from his side and Adrien settled in next to him instead, a faintly amused look on his face. “She must really like you,” Adrien commented under his breath. “She hates to give up the action and drive.”

Luka smiled weakly.

***

The hospital was a confused sequence of waiting rooms and big noisy machines, but as they sat through it all, Luka began to regain some focus and clarity, and by the time they came to tell him that he was fine, he pretty much was, aside from the throbbing in his head where they’d stitched the wound closed and the anesthetic was wearing off.

“We’re going to keep you the rest of the night for observation,” the ER doctor told him, “But unless there’s any sudden changes, you should be good to go tomorrow. Just take it easy for the next few days.”

Luka didn’t bother to argue since the night was mostly gone anyway. All he really cared about was getting to a bed, now that they had cleared him to sleep.

When he woke up in the morning, Juleka was sitting next to his bed.

“Hey, dummy,” she said, when he turned his head to look at her.

“Hey,” he sighed. “Can I go home yet?”

Juleka snorted. “Knowing hospitals, it’ll take all day just to fill out the paperwork to get you out of here.

Luka made a face. “Probably true, actually.” He sighed and laid his head back, lolling it over to look at her. “Tell me you at least got a date out of it.”

Juleka blushed, and dropped her gaze, a smile twitching at the corners of her mouth. “She’s a nurse at this hospital, do you know?” Juleka mumbled, fiddling with her fingers. “She stayed with me the whole time they had you doing all those tests. We’re...having dinner tonight when she gets off work.”

“Awesome,” Luka grinned, grabbing her hand and squeezing it.

Juleka took a moment to collect herself, and then she lifted her head and grinned at him. “Now it’s your turn.”

“God I wanna marry that girl,” Luka groaned, smiling dreamily. “Gorgeous and smart and funny and a badass. This is it. I’m totally gone for her, Jules.”

Luka didn’t need to see Juleka’s smirk, he could hear it in her voice. “What else is new?” she snorted.

Another memory surfaced and he grimaced. “I’m not sure puking all over her partner in the back of her ambulance made the kind of impression I was hoping for.”

“Don’t worry,” a male voice chuckled. “You’re not the first, and I’m sure you won’t be the last.”

Luka and Juleka both looked towards the door. Marinette and her golden-haired partner were standing there in clean uniforms. Luka felt a sudden flutter in his stomach. The EMT uniform didn’t do much for her, compared to her usual perfectly tailored clothes, but...she looked strong and confident and in charge, and it was definitely doing things for him. Her hair was tied back and pinned up, but that just made her beautiful eyes more prominent, and the same smile tilted her sweet lips.

He suddenly remembered what he and Jules had been talking about. Oh God, did she hear him? Luka swallowed nervously.

Marinette gave him a little wave, her shoulders hunched slightly. “I hope you don’t mind that we stopped by,” she said shyly. “I— We just wanted to see how you were doing.”

Adrien grinned broadly, clearly amused, and Juleka began to snicker. She leaned over and whispered to Luka, “Your heart monitor’s going crazy, dumbass.” Then she kissed his forehead. “Call me when they’re ready to let you out of here.” She walked away from the bed, and Luka realized too late that she was planning to leave him there with Marinette.

He registered about that time that the monitor behind him was indeed beeping frantically and felt himself flush. He fiddled with the clip on his finger, but if he took it off the nurses would come charging in, so he took some deep breaths, trying to get himself under control as Juleka stopped to exchange a quiet word and a hug with Marinette, with a quick handshake for Adrien.

Adrien and Marinette approached the bed and Luka reached up self-consciously to smooth his hair before remembering the bandage on his head. He extended his hand towards Adrien instead.

“Hey, man, I really am sorry for throwing up all over you,” Luka told Adrien. “I swear, I didn’t know it was coming.”

Adrien smiled ruefully as he shook Luka’s hand. “I’m used to it. Sometimes I think I have a target on my chest.”

“Serves you right for always wearing such expensive shoes,” Marinette huffed.

“They’re comfy!” Adrien protested.

Luka chuckled and looked at Marinette, taking in the uniform and trying to recalibrate his mental image of her to include this new information. It wasn’t as hard as it seemed like it should have been; she’d always had that something about her that said she could do anything, and she was certainly fit enough to be hauling people around, and the impulse to help people fit in with her sweet nature.

He really hadn’t thought he could fall any harder, but looking at her now—staring at her, he realized abruptly—he accepted that this hole was a lot deeper than he’d realized.

Marinette leaned over the side of his bed and reached toward his hair. “May I?” she asked, and at Luka’s nod, she parted his hair to peek under his bandage at the stitches. She was close enough that Luka could smell the faintest hint of sweet vanilla even past all the medical smells. The monitor began to beep warningly again and Luka thought he saw the corner of her mouth twitch. Her fingers skimmed his cheek as she lowered her hands. “It looks good. You probably won’t even notice it with your hair covering it.”

“Thanks,” Luka said stupidly, not really sure how one was supposed to react to a compliment on how well one’s head was sewn back together.

“How do you feel?” she asked, straightening a little.

“Not too bad,” Luka shrugged. “Still have a headache, but it’s much better.”

Marinette frowned. “What are they giving you for pain?” She looked at the board in his room without waiting for him to answer, and gave a slight sigh. “Well, that should fade soon, hopefully. As long as your imaging came back normal—” Luka nodded. “—it should just be a question of paperwork.” She laid her hand over his and squeezed. “You should be back behind the bar in no time. No more fights though, okay? You scared me, when we got the call for your address.”

“Sorry.” Luka gave her a lopsided smile. “Can’t say I wasn’t wishing to see you, but that wasn’t what I had in mind.”

Marinette giggled, her eyes darting away and her teeth catching her lip for a moment before she looked back at him, a bright smile slowly growing across her face. For a moment they just stared at each other. Adrien raised his eyebrows and put his hands in his pockets, wandering back across the room.

Luka barely noticed. Marinette was looking at him and he had never seen her eyes so soft before. Except—except that one moment when she’d been leaning over him on the gurney, and she’d promised him he was going to be okay, and then she’d looked up at Adrien and said take care of him for me…

He was so transfixed by her eyes that he didn’t react to her leaning over the bed until he felt her hand on his chest and her breath on his face, and then he only had time to gasp and close his eyes as her lips found and caressed his in a soft and tender kiss. He leaned into it as much as he dared, and managed to move his mouth to kiss her back, electric thrills moving through him.

He followed her when she pulled back, and opened his eyes to stare at her in wonder as her lips left his.

“I’m dying,” he said flatly. “I’m dying and no one wants to tell me, is that it?”

Marinette giggled. “No more than everyone else.” Then she actually blushed and looked down. “I’ve maybe been thinking about doing that for a while now.” She glanced up through her lashes and a truly wicked smile slowly spread. “And trust me, when you actually are going to die, you’ll know it.”

Luka’s attempt at a reply became a strangled noise at the back of his throat.

There was a quiet cough from the other side of the room, where Adrien was turning red attempting to hold in his laughter. “I’m getting the feeling you didn’t actually need a wingman here,” he said.

“Take a walk, Adrien,” Marinette said in a warning tone, and leaned in to kiss Luka again. Luka moved to meet her, lips parting eagerly as he buried the hand not covered in wires in her hair, only vaguely aware of Adrien’s gusty sigh and the sound of the door opening and closing, or the rapidly accelerating beep of his heart rate monitor again.

Somewhere in the haze Luka realized he wasn’t on shift, and anyway Marinette had kissed him first, and Anarka’s rules didn’t matter anymore.

“Hey,” he mumbled in between kisses. “Want to—mm—get coffee sometime? After they let me out of here.”

“I’d love to,” Marinette sighed, and kissed him again. She giggled. “You should have told me about that stupid rule sooner. All this time, I’ve been waiting for you to make a move.” She pulled back and blinked for a moment, and bit her lip. “Um. I should probably tell you that I told my boss you’re my boyfriend.” She shrugged. “If I start dating you after you’ve been my patient, it’s weird, but if we were dating before that, then it’s just unfortunate coincidence, so…”

“I’m cool with that,” Luka said quickly. “Very cool.” They grinned like fools at each other for a moment, and then moved to kiss again.

They were interrupted by a knock on the door, and a nurse poked her head in. “Mr. Couffaine? We’ve been getting an alarm from your monitor—” She paused, taking in Marinette’s wrecked hair and two blushing faces. “Oh.”

Marinette giggled, hiding her face in his shoulder, and Luka groaned. “How much do I need to bribe you to turn that damn thing off for the next f—” he glanced at Marinette. “Ten minutes?”

The nurse rolled her eyes, but winked at them. “Just remember you’re supposed to be taking it easy,” she admonished, crossing the room and unplugging the monitor from the wall. “If anyone asks, you’re in the bathroom.”

“Yes ma’am,” Luka grinned as the nurse shut the door behind her, pulling Marinette back in.

#quickspins #i'll never not know you #lukanette #endgame lukanette #lukanette endgame #pro lukamari #luka couffaine #marinette dupain-cheng #miraculousladybug #miraculous ladybug #birthday big bang

115 notes · View notes

libraryofsouls · 4 years

Text

tmi: rescue - chromeskull & thomas

If your requests are open, could you please do a protecting/saving hc for jesse+ any other slashers? Also how they would comfort their s/o? Sorry to bother, thank you. -requested by anonymous.

chromeskull

jesse has a serious attitude problem so naturally he’s got more enemies than friends. this man is a full-time asshole, part-time mass murderer.

very paranoid. he’ll keep you away from his work as much as he can—afraid of history repeating itself. you would know about his work from the beginning but he’ll spare you the grisly details.

trust issues would be his downfall. jesse just doesn’t trust anybody else to keep an eye on you while he’s out. he would be the type to install hidden cameras all over his home and plant a tracker on you without your permission.

even though he’s gone great lengths to keep you away from it, the bloodshed will inevitably follow. one of his many foes would just decide one day that kidnapping you would be the best way to get back at him.

they would do it when he’s out on another massacre—much too busy to keep track of his beloved sitting pretty back at home. jesse would only notice when you had stopped responding to his texts. (he’d be very strict with your response times for this exact reason.) all hell will break loose when he finds out you’ve been abducted.

how would he protect you?

have you seen him? this man is both extremely dangerous and extremely violent. he’s virtually never unarmed (yes, even when he’s sleeping. he has a hidden gun compartment at his bedside.) but he can still do a lot of damage with his bare hands.

again, lots of hidden cameras. this man is paranoid to the bone. he’s constantly watching his back. (and for good reason!) now that he has you, he can no longer afford taking any risks. be mad at him all you want for planting a tracker on you without your permission. it’s a small price to pay for your safety.

since he doesn’t trust anybody else to “babysit” you, he’s going to teach you how to shoot a gun. don’t try to talk him out of this because it’s not going to work. either you learn how to shoot or he’s going to teach you the most effective ways to cause damage. (which is arguably much worse in comparison.)

all brawn? oh honey, you’re sorely mistaken. let him give you a quick breakdown of all the major arteries of the head and neck. after all, what use is all of his brute strength when he doesn’t know how to use it? jesse is not only book smart, he’s also very good at improvising.

how would he save you?

your captors are going to have a very horrible time. he’s not going to grant them the mercy of dying quickly. it won’t be difficult to find you since he’s got you tracked, after all. it’s only a matter of executing the perfect ambush.

he’s going to save the best for last: the person who had the audacity to try and take you away from him. everybody else will be in pieces, he’ll make sure of it. (and he’ll make sure they see it with their own eyes too.)

if it’s too much mess to clean up he’ll just have the place torched and be done with it. your captor would live a little longer but they’re going to wish they had died just as quickly as everybody else. jesse is going to toy with them until he’s satisfied.

would he comfort you?

jesse would waste no time getting you out of there once he has the captor in his possession. once home, he’ll clean you up nice and patch you up himself if you have any injuries.

if you’re left a little disturbed from the ordeal, he’ll do his best to comfort you. don’t expect him to fully be there for you – he’ll be so consumed with rage he might not have the capacity to think about anything else. in his mind, he was careless enough to let this happen to you.

too focused in his own plans for revenge to comfort you properly. he might even spend more time torturing your captor than comforting you. after he’s done with them, only then will he give you his full attention.

thought you were spoiled before? get ready to be spoiled until you're absolutely sick of it. while jesse is not clingy by any means, after this incident he’ll have you glued onto him 24/7.

also expect him to be fully invested in teaching you how to protect yourself. previously he was only keen on teaching you self-defense only as a last resort but after the attempted abduction he’s decided that it’s much too risky. congrats! you’re now being taught how to kill by the shadiest people imaginable. he’s paid good money for this, so you better be compliant.

thomas hewitt

tommy doesn’t spend time with other people outside of his family. on the off-chance that he does, it’s very likely they won’t be alive for very long. why bother socializing? it’s not like he can talk. besides, all they do is call him names and insult him anyways.

now that he has you, he’s convinced himself he no longer needs anyone else in his life. just you and the family.

he doesn’t go out of his way to make friends but he isn’t one to pick fights either. tommy only goes for suspicious people: ones that snoop around the property or threaten to hurt his loved ones. other than that it’s always hoyt’s call.

no matter how accepted you are in the family, you’re not allowed to go far from the property without permission. it’s not like there’s not much to see out there anyways. since there’s little to no people around, the only real danger is the victims hoyt brings in.

maybe a very crafty bunch—ones that know exactly when and how to play along. unfortunately they’d also be smart enough to notice that you stick out like a sore thumb. prepare to be “saved” from the hewitts by a bunch of kind strangers. (oh no!! not stockholm syndrome!)

how would he protect you?

while not violent in nature, tommy’s one of the most intimidating slashers. just being around the guy is enough to deter the average joe so most of the time he doesn’t actually need to do much.

won’t go for the chainsaw right away. since he’s a large man, he usually just wrangles people away from you if need be. tommy doesn’t like killing in front of you either, worried it’ll send you into hysterics. you’re not scared of him now but maybe you’ll change your mind later on.

BIG soft spot for you. very attentive to your needs. he doesn’t get social cues but body language? an expert. immediately notices if you’re feeling down or if you’ve gotten injured somehow. virtually impossible to keep a secret from him. (also partly because he likes keeping a close eye on you.)

once you fall in place with everybody else’s chores, tommy’s going to take mental note of your schedule. you’d be up a little later than him in the morning to help luda mae in the kitchen, then maybe go for a morning walk. usually you’d be back in three minutes tops. the first time you took longer to get back he panicked and went out looking for you. ...oh.. turns out you had stopped to admire the sky. nervously scoots back to the basement in hopes you hadn’t seen him stalking you.

how would he save you?

initially he’d be too upset to even think properly - assuming you’d finally decided to just up and leave when the opportunity presented itself. there’s a lot of doubt in his heart. no, they’ve taken you against your will. you couldn’t have possibly gotten sick of him, haven’t you?

tommy would be on auto-pilot the entire time. hoyt would have to take over, seeing that tommy would be too nervous about the whole thing. one thing’s for sure though: he sees red when he finally spots you, needing to physically stop himself from lunging at your captors.

again, it’s hoyt’s call. no matter how crafty they may be though, there’s no outsmarting being shot by a trigger-happy old man. (much less a very angry thomas.)

tommy might actually lose control for once. if you somehow got hurt by your captors, accidental or not, he’s going to reduce them to paste. tommy’s outburst would undoubtedly shock everyone. you won’t even hear a peep from hoyt about “wasting the meat.”

would he comfort you?

it’s all give-and-take with tommy. the kind of person to put others before himself so comforting you is top priority. also the type to blame himself; he should’ve paid more attention, double-checked their restraints, etc.

this man has been raised well so expect a lot of pampering once he’s gotten himself together. he can’t talk but he’ll coo at you and won’t let you go until he’s sure you’re okay. very very gentle with you. while he's normally not one to initiate, he’ll be more confident around you. lots of cuddling and forehead kisses.

extremely paranoid from this point on. depending on the severity of the incident, tommy might take it to the extremes. (i.e. keeping you locked in his room.) it’ll take him a long time before he’s even comfortable not seeing you. overcompensates with the affection.

it’s all very confusing for thomas. hates locking you up but.. what if someone tries to take you again? he sees how eagerly you lean against his touch but at the same time it feels so... wrong. a lot of mixed feelings. depending on how much he trusts you, he might stay like this for a while. (a few days max, with some pleading and a lot of TLC)

#my writing #slashers #tmi #tmi: rescue #chromeskull #jesse cromeans #thomas hewitt #slasher x reader #slasher x you #self ship #reader insert #requests #god i love this #might do a fic on this in the future

194 notes · View notes

phykios · 3 years

Text

i meant to have this up on friday but i didn’t bc i’m lame anyway, this is dedicated to my dearest dearest peyton 💙💙💙💙💙💙💙 one year ago last friday i had the distinct pleasure of sliding into her dms on discord, several fics and 72 separate aus later, here we are. so, for our friendiversary, have a sexy origin story for percabeth 😁

Say So, for @darkmagyk [read on ao3] rated E for sexual content (spicy!!! pls be advised!!!) cw: recreational drug use, experimental bondage, and an accidental hit during intercourse

“I don’t think it’s working,” Annabeth says.

“Just give it a minute.” Sofia sounds gone already, hazy and dreamy.

She gives it a minute.

“Am I supposed to feel something?”

“Yeah.”

“Well I’m not.”

“You gotta be patient,” says Jordan. Throaty and full, her already deep voice is even deeper, almost vibrating in the air.

Annabeth blinks. “Maybe they gave you actual grass. Or maybe I’m too much of a square for it to affect me.” Sofia snorts. “I’m serious. You know at my summer camp they started giving me counselor responsibilities when I was twelve? Percy always said I wouldn’t know what fun was if it hit me in the face. And it’s not like he was wrong, like I spent most of my childhood reading ancient Greek or learning how to use a knife but there were some pretty ridiculous extenuating circumstances and I really wanted this older boy at camp to like me, and why am I talking so fast?”

Masako giggles. “You’re stoned.”

“I am?”

“Stoned,” she confirms.

“High,” says Sofia.

“Intoxicated!” sings Jordan.

“Oh, wow.” She can feel every blade of grass beneath her, tickling along her bare legs, the wind caressing her face, the sounds of Berkeley--frat boys playing Ultimate, rush-hour traffic, a thousand different conversations about nothing and everything--muffled behind a glass wall. “I’m high.”

Sofia laughs. “How does it feel?”

“It feels…” She licks her lips. They taste like avocado fries and sunshine. “It feels like…” Slow. The turn of the earth so soft and gentle, like the tides in the lake when Percy is in a good mood. Like the liminal space between sleepfulness and wakefulness, when you’ve taken a nap and can’t remember what year it is. Like wading through a magical time spell, but warm. “You know what I mean?”

“Annabeth,” says Masako. “You didn’t say anything.”

“What?” She raises her head, looking over at her friend. Her eyes are closed, her hands running along the grass of the quad. “I didn’t?”

“Nothing.”

Annabeth lets her head fall back, thumping the earth. “Oh, theoi, I’m high.”

Overcome, Jordan starts laughing, curling onto her side. The rest aren’t far behind.

Soon they’re not laughing at her anymore, they’re just laughing to laugh. Laughter is fun, she realizes, her breath and blood whooshing through her body, every muscle and bone in her body united in one single pursuit of joy. Her eyes are squeezed shut, cheeks aching from the force of her smile, her body curled in on itself, wracked with euphoria.

Sofia giggles so hard she snorts, setting them all off again.

Wading through an onslaught of laughter, high and squeaky, Annabeth gasps out, “Why am I laughing so much?”

“Because you’re high, girl!” Jordan crows. She has turned herself over on her front, her face pressed against the grass. “Have you really never gotten high before?”

“Don’t tease her,” says Sofia, awkwardly patting Annabeth’s knee. “You know she hasn’t done anything.”

She has done stuff, she almost says--before she shuts her mouth with an audible clack.

“Not even at your camp?” Jordan asks, befuddled. Befuddled is a funny word. “No one ever snuck in some alcohol or whatever?”

Thoughts running at a snail’s pace, she has to seriously rack her brain to think if one of the Hermes’ kids ever brought in any illicit substances. Soda, minor monsters, the most powerful weapon ever created--but not any alcohol or marijuana. She thinks. “Our camp director was really strict about alcohol.”

“Lame,” says Masako.

“I mean, he was in recovery,” says Annabeth, her go-to story about Mr. D, just in case anyone ever asks. “It was a whole thing. He couldn’t have it, so we couldn’t have it.”

“Not lame,” she amends.

“Okay, I think,” she says, a memory appearing out of the fog, after Gaea, after all that nonsense, “I think my co-counselor Katie made some joints out of bay leaves once.”

The younger kids had gone to bed, sent off with a healthy dose of Clovis’ dream magic to ward away any nightmares, but the older campers had stayed up, huddled around the central brazier into the wee hours of the morning. Still so exhausted she could barely see straight, falling asleep on top of Percy, he had hauled her away to bed, but not before he had declined something for the both of them, something small and white and made to be smoked.

“You can get high off of bay leaves?” Sofia asks.

Annabeth nods. “That’s how the… the fucking…” the word was on the tip of her tongue. The thing that Rachel did. But long ago. Oracle! “The Oracle, she got high, in ancient Greece. With bay leaves. She’d smoke them and receive prophecy.”

Jordan lifts her head. “Cool. You got ancient Greek high.”

Annabeth nearly says something about Olympus, or maybe Blackjack, an amazing joke about being high and Greek just on the tip of her tongue, but she has just enough self control not to. “No, I was tired. Percy and I went to bed.”

“Laaaaaaaaame,” says Masako.

It’s just good-natured ribbing. And they’re all high as kites. But Annabeth still frowns. “I’m not lame.”

“You’re amazing, don’t get me wrong,” Masako says, “but you are so lame. You’ve never gotten high before, you’re probably going to marry your first boyfriend… you are so vanilla.”

“And we love that about you!” Sofia jumps in.

Annabeth can’t feel bad right now, but she can feel a little lost. “But I love Percy,” she says. “Why wouldn’t I marry him?”

Percy is perfect. He’s handsome and kind and powerful and funny and brave and handsome. He’s more than anyone could hope for. And he loves her.

“You’re really going to marry him?” Jordan asks. “Like, for real?”

She shrugs. “Yeah, but he says he can’t propose before he finds the perfect ring. He promised he wouldn’t make me wait too long. I don’t want to have Chase on my diploma.”

“Oh my god,” Masako giggles, “you’re even more vanilla than I thought.”

“The dick can’t be that good,” Jordan muses, examining a particularly long blade of grass.

It is, but they don’t need to know that.

Sofia snorts. “It is?”

Oh, fuck. Annabeth giggles. “I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”

“Tell us!” Masako sits bolt upright, eyes wide. “Tell us everything!”

She slams her hands over her face. “Noooo,” she laughs, curling in on herself further. “I can’t.”

All at once, they scream, like the three Erinyes swooping down onto an unsuspecting prey. Or the Cabin Ten campers when someone gets too close with any stray ketchup.

“Spill!” they shriek. “Spill!”

No one has ever demanded to know the details of her sex life before. Even at camp, she and Percy are given a wide berth. Something about walking through Tartartus with your partner apparently takes your sex life from giggle-worthy to kind of intimidating. That’s the biggest difference between her demigod friends and her mortal friends, Annabeth is finding. Other than that, they’re pretty much exactly the same. “What do you want to know?” she asks, naively.

The floodgates open.

“When did you guys first do it?”

“Where?”

“How was it?”

“What does he like?”

“His abs though--”

“Is he good at head?”

“Favorite position!”

“His dick is big, I just know it--”

Over and over, overlapping, a whirlwind of questions, she can’t process them nearly as fast as they are coming--all she can do is laugh, breathless and airy, until they all dissolve into giggles once again.

She’s getting a little tired of this constant laughing.

Even that thought makes her start all over again.

“Okay,” she gasps, “okay, I can’t--I can’t answer all of those.”

Jordan waves her arms. “Me first! First time!”

Annabeth shrugs. “Um, it was… the weekend of Thanksgiving, a few months after we started dating. His parents were at a mixer for their writing group, and I was staying with them during my school break.” What else is she supposed to say? That they’d been talking about it for weeks? That Annabeth had been so excited she’d forgotten to even ask him about condoms? That Percy had been so concerned with making sure he got her off and didn’t hurt her that he’d spent almost an hour fingering her?

They squeal in unison. “His parents’ house!” Sofia gasps, hands on her face. “So scandalous! How was it?”

Annabeth blushes. “Amazing.”

And it had been, as amazing as a first time can be. Any person could only ever dream of having a partner as attentive and respectful as Percy for their first time.

“If he’s the only one you’ve ever had, how do you know it was that good?” Jordan asks. “I thought my first boyfriend was good, too, right up until I started dating Julie.”

“I think three consecutive orgasms counts as being good,” Annabeth drawls.

Once again, the screaming.

“Three?” shrieks Masako.

“Three.”

“Your first time?!”

“He was really really really concerned I wouldn’t get off!”

Sofia collapses on top of her, hands scrabbling for her shoulders, and always, always giggling. “You marry that boy--you marry him right now!”

“I’m trying!”

“And it’s still good?” Masako’s eyes are as wide as saucers.

Normally, she might be a little reluctant to share--even with Piper. The eighth of this edible, though, is certainly helping grease the wheels of conversation. “It’s always good.”

Jordan groans, throwing a handful of grass in her face. “Bullshit.”

“Always?”

She frowns, really thinking about it, trying to remember a time it was bad. It’s surprisingly really hard. “Sometimes we don’t have time for three orgasms.”

“How often do you fake it?”

“What do you mean?” Annabeth asks Masako.

“You know… fake it.”

“Why would I fake it? If I fake it, he won’t know I haven’t come yet.” She laughs, more than a giggle but less than a guffaw. It’s so silly. Whoever thought of faking an orgasm? “How would I even do that?”

“You’ve never faked it?” Sofia is incredulous, her jaw hanging open.

Annabeth sits up, flailing a little, reaching forward to touch her toes. Just because. “Of course not. Do people actually do that?”

“Sure,” says Masako. “Sometimes.”

“Why?”

“I hate you,” Jordan moans, “I hate you so much, you and your stupid sex god boyfriend who makes love to you every night like you’re in some trashy period drama with the…” Her hands come up, weakly making a wavy shape in the air. “The things. You know.”

Masako tilts her head. “Hoop skirts?”

Sofia pitches forward, hands coming flat on the grass. “Okay, Annabeth. Prove to us you’re not vanilla. Craziest place you’ve ever done it.”

All three girls lean in, now, expectant, hungry.

Annabeth frowns.

Where was the craziest place they had done it?

They’d done it a lot in the last few years. His apartment in the city, Cabin Three, her boarding school room…

Oh. Right.

She flushes.

They lean in even closer.

Well, she can’t tell them about the time they had sex in the temple of Neptune in New Rome, but she can tell them about--“One time, at camp,” she mumbles, playing with a shoelace, “we… Percy is in charge of the boathouse, because--because he’s so good at sailing, you know? So, one day, we both passed our chores off to a couple other counselors, then he took out one of the canoes, rowed us out into the middle of the lake, and…” She glances up, bashful.

Cue the screaming.

Annabeth covers her face with her arms, falling back down onto the quad.

“At your summer camp!” Masako cries, gleeful.

“My word!” Playfully kicking her ankle, Jordan pretends to fan herself, like Hazel still does sometimes when she’s startled by something really risque. “Imagine if the children had seen you!”

The children hadn’t seen them, but the naiads definitely had--and had tried to capsize them for their trouble. She hadn’t been able to do any lake-related activities for a week without getting soaked by a stray wave which, coincidentally, managed to avoid hitting everyone else.

“What else?” Sofia asks, practically vibrating. “Craziest kink!”

“Um…” She frowns, screwing up her face so she thinks extra hard. Have they… done anything kinky? They have sex a lot, yeah, and not always in their bedrooms, but other than that… “I… don’t… know…”

Sex with Percy is always amazing--that’s not a lie. But, maybe it’s gotten a little… same-y.

“Well, well, well.” Sofia slow-claps it out, her rings clinking together. “I think she’s ready for the big leagues, don’t you, girls?”

Through her fingers, Annabeth glances at her. “What do you mean?”

“Bondage.”

“Bondage?” She blinks. “Like, tying each other up?”

Annabeth doesn’t think she’s ever been tied up before. Well, except for the time she wanted to hear the Sirens, but Percy had left her with her knife, so that didn’t really count.

“Last time I met up with Skylar, we went back to his, and he has this old-timey bed frame, with the slats, right? So I took the belt from my dress, and--”

“Okay, okay,” Annabeth cuts in, covering her face again. “I get the point.”

Maybe her friends have a point. Maybe she is a little vanilla.

Sofia pats her knee. “Next time you guys have sex--”

“So, in like, three hours,” Jordan snorts.

“--take a scarf or a tie or whatever and tie his hands to the headboard. Trust me, he will flip. Out.”

Annabeth nods, taking mental notes. “Hands to the headboard. Got it.” She’s not sure if he even has any ties, but she’s resourceful. She can cobble something together. “And… then what?”

Sofia shrugs. “Kiss him. Do a striptease. Leave him there. I dunno. Whatever you want.”

Masako scrambles to her feet, windmilling to keep her balance. “The Bon Me truck just pulled up,” she gasps, “and I am starving.”

And thus, that particular conversation is over, thanks to the munchies.

***

Truth be told, she kind of forgets it pretty much entirely. Most of that day is gone, the finer details swallowed up in a haze of heat waves and peanut sauce.

That is, until New Rome’s annual pre-Saturnalia mixer: dress code, lighter side of formal. Whatever that means.

“Hey, babe?” Percy pokes his head in the bathroom, button-down half undone. “I need your eye for a second.”

She grunts around the bobby pin held between her teeth, sliding another one through some hitherto-unknown dimension to hold a curl in place.

“What do you think, this tie with this jacket?” He holds the two of them together, the black and white Greek key pattern contrasting nicely against the navy blue fabric. “Or will that cause an incident?”

“Probably an incident,” she says, slowly, slipping the bobby pin from her mouth. Then, a thought poking at the back of her skull. “How long have you had that?”

He glances at it. “The tie? Paul gave it to me for graduation.”

“That was nice of him.”

“I’m pretty sure he got it from the Met gift shop, but yeah.” All smiles, he slides the jacket on, tie crumpled in his balled fist. “You’re right, no tie.”

She grunts, noncommittal, gaze sliding away as she tries to remember… something.

“You good?”

“...Yeah,” she says, eventually. “Just spaced out for a second.”

“Alright. You about ready to go?”

She glances at her hair in the mirror, the makeup on the counter. “Give me twenty.”

“Sure thing.” Then he goes out, a few moments of silence passing before she hears the sink turn on as he takes care of the dishes.

How in Hades did she end up with the perfect man? Truly.

Percy continues to exude perfection at the party, despite the fact that he is clearly less than comfortable, not that she can blame him. Some of the older citizens of New Rome are a little less reserved with their opinions of the Greeks, Percy’s hand clenching around his glass of sparkling grape juice every time someone badmouths camp, their home, but they both relax as soon as they finish making the rounds of NRU’s board of trustees and other college officials, peeling away to find Frank and Reyna and the rest of their friends.

Still, Annabeth can’t quite focus.

“Hey.” Percy leans in, his hand against the small of her back, murmuring into her ear. “Are you okay?”

“Hm?” Gods, his hand is so big and warm. All that time in the gym is paying off, too, the weedy, skinny teenager she fell in love with blossoming into a young man, broad shoulders and firm chest like a Phidian sculpture.

“You’re just kind of quiet tonight. Did you sleep okay?”

She blinks at him, thoughts coming back into focus. “Uh--yeah, I’m good. Just--”

“Spaced out for a second?” Making a face, he grins back at her, unrepentant. “You wanna ditch the party?”

“Do you?”

He looks around, eyeing Hylla Ramirez-Arellano as she loudly boasts about being Jeff Bezos’ findom. “A little.”

Well, Annabeth is happy to be his excuse.

Citing a (completely fake) headache, they make their graceful exit, walking back to their apartment in the cool California night, hand in hand, Percy carrying her heels as she walks barefoot down the sidewalks.

It’s a quiet night. Percy squeezes her hand every few steps, and she squeezes back, lifting her face to the clear night sky, thoughts she can’t catch slipping through the cracks like wisps of clouds across the moon. But that’s okay. She’s pretty sure they’re good thoughts.

“You sure you’re alright?” Percy asks as they get home, closing the door behind them. “You've been kind of out of it all night.”

Kissing him on the cheek, she shrugs out of her nice coat, slipping it up on their makeshift coat rack, fashioned from a piece of driftwood that had nearly conked Percy on the head the first time they ever went down to the beach. “I’m fine, Percy, promise. Just kind of a bleh day, you know? Nothing a few cuddles and a movie won’t fix.”

At that, he beams, dropping Annabeth’s shoes on the floor. “I’ll get the popcorn!”

"Let me shower first," Annabeth says. Hopefully a shower will clear her head a little.

It doesn't.

Changing into her pajamas, she ruffles her curls with her microfiber towel, frowning as she comes out of the bathroom. Percy's good habits are rubbing off on her; she's left a lot of crap lying around that needs picking up. Collecting stray bobby pins from the vanity, a curling iron from the top of the dresser, and an alternate dress option from where she had left it on the bed, she putters about the room, tidying as she goes, when she stops. Percy's tie lays crumbled at the head of the bed where he had tossed it earlier.

She picks it up, running it between her fingers. It's not exactly silk, but it's still a decently strong weave, machine-made for mass production, inoffensively soft. Annabeth wraps it around her finger, pulling tight, and a flash of heat rushes through her, like a wave off the lava climbing wall.

“So there’s this guy on Youtube who makes popcorn with Lao Gan Ma spicy chili crisp, and it sounded absolutely amazing,” says Percy, walking into their room, popcorn bowl in hand. Annabeth whips around, the tie crumpled in her fist. “I tried to keep the spice level down, but let me know if it’s too much and I can make another one.”

Annabeth blinks, momentarily uncomprehending. “Uh--sure! Sounds good.”

“Did you pick a movie while you were in the shower?”

“Um…” Was she supposed to? “Your choice.”

“The Sopranos okay?” he asks, climbing onto their bed, twisting around to grab his laptop from the side table. His shirt rides up a little, a sliver of waist and hip peeking out at her.

“Sure.” She likes The Sopranos. It’s a little soapy, but usually she has no problem following along.

Keyword being usually.

She’s tucked herself into Percy’s side the way she usually does, her head against his, his arm around her shoulders, his thumb ghost along the bare skin of her bicep. He smells really good today, sea salt and cinnamon and chili oil, a testament to his busy day in the kitchen. He’s so warm, always, six feet of dense, packed muscle practically radiating heat. Annabeth could fall asleep right there. She often does.

Shifting for the sixth time in what must be five minutes, she snuggles into his chest, curling and uncurling her toes. There’s no denying it--she can feel herself getting hotter, a flame in her center, soft and pulsing, reaching every part of her.

How she wishes she could blame it on The Sopranos.

Annabeth presses her nose into his neck, breathing him in, laying a kiss under his ear. Then another on his jaw. And another at the corner of his lips. And one on his mouth, tilting him towards her for better access. He goes, easily, without resistance.

At some point, the popcorn bowl is moved.

Then, Percy shuts his laptop closed during Livia’s wake.

“Hey,” Annabeth murmurs into his mouth, draped over him like some kind of blanket. “I wanna try something.”

He hums, kissing her again. “Okay?”

She reaches behind him, beneath the pillow. She’s not sure why she had stashed it there, rather than hanging it back up in the closet, but she pulls out the tie, holding Percy’s gaze without breaking. “I thought,” she breathes, pressing her chest against him, incentivizing, “you know... if you want to."

His eyes darken, even as his face tries to give nothing away. "You wanna tie me up?"

Lip between her teeth, she nods.

Slowly, controlled, he blows his breath out, bringing a hand up to cup her cheek. "You sure?" he asks, desire rumbling in his chest.

She frowns. "Yeah." Does he not want to?

"Okay," he says, twisting a curl around his finger. "Just want to make sure we’re on the same page here.”

Or maybe worse, does he think she can’t? “Okay.”

Straightening up, she straddles him. He lifts his arms obediently, never breaking eye contact, bracing them against their headboard. It’s not really conducive for this sort of thing, but she threads the tie through the wooden slats easily enough, tying his wrists together, leaning in closer than she needs to so that her chest pushes up against his face.

There. All tied up and ready to go.

She leans back on her knees, taking in the whole pretty picture.

Rhythmically, subconsciously, Percy tests the strength of the bonds, flexing the muscles in his arms. His mouth hangs open, his hips shifting beneath her as he tries to get comfortable, cock hard through his sweatpants.

Annabeth scrambles off him, and he tries to follow, chest jerking as the tie holds him back. He grunts, surprised, shoulders straining, before he falls back, defeated, huffing angrily, a low growl which connects to the pit of her stomach. “Nice try, Percy,” she smirks, sauntering around to the foot of the bed, keenly aware of his gaze as it tracks her, hands on her hips. “It’s my show tonight.”

“Your show, huh?” He settles back against the headboard, wine-dark gaze boring into her. “By all means, then. Give me a show.”

She glares, grinding her teeth. Doesn’t he know she’s calling the shots right now?

Well, fine. If he wants a show, he’ll get a show.

Annabeth is… not a particularly graceful person normally, but on the battlefield, she knows she shines. Give her a knife and an enemy, and she can put the greatest dancers to shame. Well, in this case, Percy is the enemy, and… her clothes… are the knife. Or something like that. It makes more sense in her head.

Slowly, she grasps the hem of her sleep shirt, peeling it up over her chest, the fabric blocking her vision for a brief moment as she slips it over her head. When Percy comes back into view, his eyes have darkened just that much more, almost straining with the effort not to stare at her chest, even as it’s presented for his explicit viewing pleasure.

Annabeth does not have much in the way of breasts--never has. It doesn’t seem to bother him, which is nice. Besides, Percy is more of a leg man, as he has expressed several times. So, legs next.

Her sleep shorts aren’t very sexy, old, threadbare things which had once been yoga pants. When she started gaining a little more weight, and the pants could no longer reach her ankles, she had cut them in a fit of impulsivity, stretching the fabric and sewing herself a new hem, giving her skin more room to breathe. And giving Percy more space to slip his fingers up, the horny bastard.

She turns around, lamenting the loss, as she so wanted to see his face as she bends over, sticking out her ass, slowly slipping the waistband down. From behind, she hears a faint pickup in breathing.

Over her ass, down her thighs and her knees. She thinks she hears a groan, muffled behind a bitten lip. She lifts up one foot, then the other, leaving the shorts in a puddle by her feet. Clad only in her panties now--black, lacy, but not due to any pre-planning on her part, unless you count the laundry just about overflowing in the closet hamper--she straightens back up, her hands going to her hair, running her fingers through it in some kind of approximation of sexy.

She turns around, and is greeted with his look of naked longing, his throat working as he swallows, full lower lip firmly in his teeth. His fists are clenched, the muscles of his forearms big and bulging, his heels pushing into the mattress.

She takes a step forward, her fingers teasing the edge of her panties. She won’t take them off, not yet, just torment him a little, lifting the fabric and letting it slap back down to her skin, then she’ll climb back on top of him, hump him through his sweatpants until he’s begging--

Annabeth catches her foot on the fabric puddle. Tripping, she throws out her hands, aiming to catch herself on the decorative chest they keep at the foot of their bed, her weak ankle buckling as it tries to keep her steady--then she jams her toe into the metal strut. Hard.

“Mother fucker!”

She goes down.

“Annabeth!”

Through the white hot haze of pain, she can barely see, but she can certainly feel it as a pair of strong arms picks her up from the floor, laying her on the bed, a big hand taking her weaker foot, fingers delicately prodding the offending toe, skimming over the sensitive skin. “Percy?” she moans, seeing stars. “What--”

“Nothing feels sprained,” he murmurs, kissing her ankle. “Looks like you just slammed it. Let me get some ice.” And he leaves her for a moment.

Wasn’t he tied up a minute ago?

The bed dips beside her as Percy takes her foot again, carefully laying one of their smaller ice packs across the throbbing flesh. Her vision clears, blink by blink, and as his concerned but fond face slowly comes into focus, she also spies something trailing from his wrist--a strip of black and white fabric.

His tie. Snapped in half. Still attached to him. “Did you…?” she trails off.

He flicks his eyes down to his wrist, and flushes, lightly. “Oh. I, uh, guess I did. I didn’t even notice.”

Annabeth’s body grows hot in a way that has absolutely nothing to do with shame.

“Anyway,” he coughs, dry and useless. “Um, maybe we should call it a night?”

Hiding her face in her arms, she nods.

***

They try again the next week.

While dictating her notes via speech-to-text, Annabeth had spent the last couple of days occupied with making her own rope, stronger and softer than the ones she had seen in her Incognito Mode searches while doing her business in the bathroom. BDSM rope is surprisingly really expensive, especially the less abrasive stuff, but more than that, she feels kind of… well, it’s weird, the idea of spending money on bondage shit when they’d only tried it once, and not very successfully at that. Like, how about they make sure they actually like it first, says the little Percy in her head who occasionally keeps her from making too many impulse purchases, and then they can upgrade their gear?

Also, she’s confident her stuff is on par with the really expensive gear anyway. Plus, it’s blue!

And when she dangles it in front of his face, straddling him once again as she slides her wet pussy over his briefs, practically soaking them, he lifts his arms again, a quiet acquiescence, even as his jaw clenches in the barest hint of displeasure.

Every day Percy does something new to make her fall in love with him. That he trusts her so much to let her tie him up, immobilize him, take away his control like this, even though he’s so clearly hesitant about the whole thing, that’s just today’s thing. She kisses him, soft and sweet, over and over, and he responds in kind, straining his neck to meet her. “You good?” she asks, a whisper into the space between them, and he nods. “It’s not too tight?”

“It’s fine.” She feels more than sees as he flexes his arms again, testing the strength of her rope.

“Good.” She kisses his nose. No way he’ll be able to break these.

The second time is already going better than the first. Having divested herself of her clothes beforehand, there’s no danger of her tripping and injuring herself as she lines herself up and sinks down on him, shuddering at the angle as she slides him inside of her. She just sits there for a moment, rocking back and forth on his lap, enjoying the way he fills her nooks and crannies, brushing up against the sensitive skin, closing her eyes against the sensation as she lifts herself up, sliding back down, up and down and up and down and up and down.

“Fuck, Annabeth,” he moans. “Oh, fuck.”

It’s good. As always. It’s so good.

But… something is missing.

She squeezes around him, and he hisses, bucking beneath her.

Why isn’t he touching her?

He groans, frustrated, his head making a muffled thump as it drops on the pillow.

Oh. Right.

Usually right about now he’ll go for her tits, his big hands covering them completely, deft fingers pinching and twisting her nipples in the most perfect way, so she decides to show him what he’s missing, bringing her own hands up to her chest, rolling her thumbs over her nipples, smiling as he practically growls. Unfortunately for her, for whatever sick reason, she’s not nearly as good at this as he is, her touches not really doing enough for her. And after a few minutes or so, Percy takes notice.

“Oh gods, Annabeth,” he pants, pulling his legs up behind her, the force almost tilting her forward, and she throws out her hands to catch herself, his abs tensing beneath her as she lands on them, her chest right up against his face. Quick as anything, he lifts his head up, mouth headed for her left nipple before she manages to pull herself back.

She narrows her eyes, falling back on his lap even more heavily, pushing a grunt out of him. “Nice try.”

He only grins back, shark-like, eyes dancing. “Had to give it a shot.”

Of course he did. Percy treats rules like [clever metaphor], easily broken and discarded. And now Annabeth has to punish him.

Shit.

What are you supposed to do for punishment again?

Her mind draws a blank.

Percy stares up at her, waiting, brow raised in challenge.

To stall for time, she squeezes around him.

She’d watched a handful of pornos for research, and in a lot of them, the dominant would strike their partner. Percy’s tough, a bit of an adrenaline junkie, and he likes his rough-housing with Clarisse and Frank and the war kids, so he’d probably like that, too, right? If someone did that to her, Annabeth would probably like it.

So she raises her hand, and she brings it down on his soft, untensed, unprepared tummy. Hard.

He jumps so high that he actually manages to buck her off. “OW!”

“Percy!” she cries, scrambling back over to him. “Oh my gods, I’m so sorry!”

“The hell was that for!” he gasps, curling in on himself as best he can with his arms still tied above his head.

“Sorry, sorry,” she gentles, almost frantic, hands hovering over his body. His belly is rapidly turning pink, the outline of her hand stark on his skin, practically radiating heat. “I just--I mean I thought--fuck, I am so sorry!”

He groans in response, eyes squeezed shut.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck--”Let--let me get you some ice, or--” she stammers, sliding off the bed.

“Can you at least untie me first?” Percy wheezes.

“Oh my gods, yeah, hold on.” Despite her shaking fingers, the knot comes undone easily, practically falling apart, and Percy curls himself into a ball, forehead touching his knees.

Returning with an ice pack wrapped in a dish towel, she kisses his shoulder in apology, slipping it between the taut, tight bends of his body.

He is in real, actual pain. Fuck. “I am so, so sorry,” she says again, her voice wobbling.

Squinting up at her, he tries for a reassuring smile, but falls far, far short, a pained grimace painted across his face. “It’s okay,” he rasps.

It’s really not, but saying that isn’t going to be so helpful right now.

Instead, she lies down next to him, resting her hand on his arm, gently stroking back and forth in hopes that it might distract him a little. She knows that whenever her ankle or her shoulder act up, all she wants is Percy’s hands on her, repetitive and soothing. Hopefully she can give back a little of the comfort that he gives her.

After a while, he starts to uncurl. “Goddamn,” he moans, still clutching the ice pack to his stomach. “Remind me never to badmouth the Yankees again.”

She forces out a chuckle for his sake, ducking her head against his. “How is it? One to ten.”

Hissing, he straightens out a little more. “Probably a four,” he says, “but a really spicy four.”

“Percy, I am so--”

“It’s okay.” He knocks his head against her chin. “Maybe just warn me next time?”

“Yeah,” she says, uneasy. Next time is not looking so likely. “Here.”

Slowly, she helps him into a sitting position, applying extra pressure on his stomach, her hand on top of his. They breathe together, letting the sting fade away until Percy drops his head on hers.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hey.”

“How are you?”

“How--” she snorts, a little wet. “I’m fine, Percy.”

“Good.”

“I’m sorry about hitting you,” she says. She can’t help but look down at his stomach, pinkness peeking above the ice pack, at his dick, well and truly flaccid. “That was… not my best idea.”

“Can I ask you something?” Tearing her gaze away, she turns back to Percy. “Why are you pushing for this so hard?”

She blinks, taken aback. “What do you mean?”

“Just, you’ve never really expressed an interest in kinky stuff before.” He takes her hand, cold from the ice pack, rubbing his thumb against hers, sweet and intimate.

“Yeah, well,” she cuddles into Percy a little harder, curving her body around his shoulder. “Some of the girls at Berklee were teasing me about being a little vanilla.” None of it was mean-spirited or anything, but it had stayed with her for a while after it had resurfaced that night. Annabeth Chase, despite having run away from home at the age of seven, was a square, a teetotaler, unadventurous, the kind of woman who spent her Friday nights playing board games with a woman who typified 1930s values. Annabeth Chase, after her short, entirely too eventful life, was going to settle down, and marry the first boy she ever kissed.

It had struck a nerve.

“Being vanilla isn’t a bad thing,” he says, something like concern lacing his voice. “But, are you… not satisfied? With the physical stuff?” The unspoken ‘with me’ hangs between them, and Annabeth pulls back, looking him in the eye.

“Percy.”

“Mm?”

Reaching up, she kisses him. “Of course not. I could never not be satisfied.”

Something in him eases, almost imperceptible if she didn’t know him as well as she does. “So…”

Shrugging, she lays her head back down on his shoulder. “I dunno. It’s just--like, I’m pretty sure you’re going to be the only person I ever sleep with--”

“Pretty sure?”

She nudges him with her foot, and he laughs, hissing a little as it jostles his stomach. “You know what I mean. I just don’t want to miss out on anything, is all.”

“Like what?”

“Like--” she gestures to the rope, lying forgotten, tangled up in the sheets. “Stuff like that. Kinky stuff.”

“Okay,” he says, slowly. At least he doesn’t think she’s crazy. That’s always nice. “I guess I’m just wondering if you’re actually into bondage and stuff or if we’re just… you know, trying it out.”

Draping a leg over him, knees pressed together, she shrugs. “It sounded pretty fun,” she mumbles into his arm. “You know. Tying you up.”

She feels him swallow, jaw working as he chooses his next words carefully. “Tying me up,” he asks, “or tying you up?”

That… gives her pause.

“Maybe…” He turns his face towards her, nose in her hair. “We could swap?”

She frowns. “Swap?”

“If you want, I mean,” he says, quickly. “If you’re not--I would never make you do something you didn’t want to, obviously, but, I mean… if you wanted to try?”

Annabeth, for lack of anything to say, rubs her toes against his calf, comforting and grounding.

Does she want to be tied up?

Her first instinct is to refuse, obviously. She’s a warrior. Immobilization is death. And what if a monster attacks? She has to be ready for anything. That was the promise of Athena’s progeny, that they were eternally poised and ready to respond to any problem or threat.

And yet…

The summer she turned thirteen, she had decided that she was strong enough to hear the siren’s song in the sea of monsters. At her request, Percy had tied her to the mast so she wouldn’t be able to jump in and swim to her death. He had forgotten to take her knife, and when she had, inevitably, fallen prey to their song and cannonballed right into danger, he had jumped in after her, holding her back until she had been able to pull herself out of the magic spell.

It had been humiliating, and humbling. She hadn’t even begun to realize that she liked Percy as more than a friend at that point. But, years later, the clearest memory she has of that day is not how her pride had reared its ugly head, but instead just how safe she had felt in Percy’s arms, at the bottom of the ocean.

Here, in New Rome, in their apartment, with Percy… Well, what’s the worst that could happen? “Sure,” she says, perhaps a little more confident than she actually feels.

“Sure?”

“Sure. Why not?” Looking up at him, she searches his gaze for any hesitation or fear, and finds none, and that, more than anything else, settles her. “I’m game.”

He looks for the same in her, and he seems to like what he finds, because he cracks a grin, laying a soft kiss on her lips.

Gingerly, still mindful of his stomach, he reaches over to grab the discarded rope. Taking her hands in his free one, he loops it around her wrists, tucking the ends into itself, tight but not constricting. Comfortable.

Her breath catches in her throat.

“You good?”

Nodding, she flexes her wrists outward, just to feel the tension--and she sighs, a breathy moan slipping out of her without her permission.

They freeze.

Annabeth slams her eyes shut, praying he didn’t hear her.

“...Okay then,” says Percy.

Gods, his shit-eating grin is practically audible. “Shut up.”

“Excuse me?” He leans in, kissing her ear. “Did you just try to tell me what to do?”

She shivers beneath his warm breath. “I…” She is suddenly full of apologies and excuses bubbling up out of nowhere.

Percy hums. “You what?” Slowly, agonizingly, he slides his hand down the length of her body, ending on her tight, just above her knee. He squeezes, featherlight, and she shivers.

“Um,” she says, watching his hand creep higher, his fingers dipping between her legs. “I…”

Then he stops. He stops, that big hand still wedged halfway to her vagina.

“Are--” she stutters, almost yelping as he kisses the sensitive spot beneath her jaw, teeth scraping over the skin. “Are you going to finish?”

“Dunno. Was thinking about it. But maybe I won’t. Maybe,” he chuckles, directly into her ear, his nose pressing against her cheek. His other arm comes around, slipping beneath her bicep, fingers finding her nipple like it’s a damn beacon, and he pinches it, smiling into her skin as she jumps, grunts, and flushes. She wants to touch him so badly, but the angle of her arms is so weird and she’s kind of on top of him, and she can’t reach his cock or his hair or--“Maybe I’ll just get you worked up, and then I’ll go to sleep.”

What--but--he can’t--“I--you--”

“Say you’re sorry,” he teases, pressing his cheek to her head, “and maybe I’ll reconsider.”

Sorry for what?! She almost snaps. Percy’s hand between her legs plays just at the edge of her sensitive spots, teasing with soft touches, driving her crazy. “I’m--I’m sorry, Percy,” she pants, squirming. Maybe if she shimmies down, his hand will move up--

But he won’t be moved. “Sorry for what?”

“For--” he digs a nail into her thigh, a sharp, sweet bite of sensation, like a campfire ember accidentally landing on your skin, bright and pulsing. Fuck, what is she apologizing for? “For hurting you earlier.”

Shaking his head, he chuckles again, moving his hand further away. No! “Close,” he mumbles, “but no cigar--”

Oh! “For telling you what to do!” she blurts. “I’m sorry for telling you what to do!”

He bites her earlobe. His fingers slide up to her pussy, stroking her labia as they open up to him. “There we go.”

And as he jerks her off, bringing her to the finish with the kind of efficiency and skill that only comes after ten thousand hours, he kisses her, wet and hot, mouth insistent, taking her lip between his teeth, and he mumbles: “Good girl. Good fuckin’ girl.”

She breaks, crying into his mouth.

After a while, he slides his fingers out, giving her one final pass on her clit, and she shudders, whining. “Sorry,” he mumbles, warm. “You good?”

Her tongue heavy in her mouth, all she can do is nod, panting.

But when he slides his other arm out, making to untie her--”Don’t,” she mumbles, pulling back.

He starts. “Don’t?”

“Don’t.” Turning into him, she snuggles against him as deeply as she could, her bound hands only making it a little bit awkward, though they do come to rest on his stomach, about the perfect distance for her to reach down and take care of him. “Your turn?”

But he just shakes his head, slinging a leg over hers. “Still a little sore,” he admits, not quite meeting her gaze.

She drops her head onto his chest, relishing in the warm, steady heartbeat beneath her ear. “Sorry.”

“You can make it up to me later,” he says, taking her hands in his, thumb tracing along the edge of the rope. “I’m sure I’ll think of something.”

#my fic #percabeth #pjo fic #darkmagyk #PLS HEED THE RATING OK

19 notes · View notes

oddsnendsfanfics · 4 years

Text

The (Mis)Adventures of Kal and Moose - Puppy Love?

Genre: Fan Fiction Pairing: Henry Cavill/Reader Warnings: Fluffy Summer Fun Rating: G Length: Drabble Disclaimer: a strict work of fiction, I own nothing except the original characters and the plot line. In no way am I affiliated to any of it.

A/N: Kal and Moose seem to be popular, what can I say?

Henry Cavill Master List

“Oscar, can you not torment Kal?”

“I'm not tormenting him,” the boy pouted, attempting to push the dog away. “He keeps sitting on me, Uncle Henry.”

“Kal, stop sitting on Oscar.” Henry scolded the big black and white Akita.

Henry swore he could see Kal roll his eyes, but did as he was asked and climbed off of Henry's nephew. Kal yawned and laid on the bed in the corner, like a “good dog”, another eye roll. Please, this was his domain. Nobody moved him from his spot on the couch, except for maybe Moose. Even then, they would compromise and Moose would lie across the humans.

Closing his eyes, Kal sighed, listening to his human and the two tiny humans playing another video game. They had spent a part of the day outside in the garden yesterday. This morning they went for Kal's regulation walkie, and now they were in the house – again. Kal huffed and yawned. He wished Moose was there, they could bounce around the garden chasing squirrels, cats, and scare the tiny humans with their loud but harmless boofings.

Sprawled out on the “dog bed” Kal whimpered in his sleep. Oblivious to the fact he had company. Dancing around Kal with more energy than he knew what to do with, Moose nosed the big dog and yelped at him. Kal sniffled and boofed in his sleep. Henry laughed watching Kal completely ignore his best friend.

“He's pretty wrecked,” Henry explained with a casual shrug.

“Kids do that to ya.” You laugh, calling Moose back to you. “How was last night?”

“Good, they slept well. Aiden was up in the night, he crawled in with me, and went back to sleep. Thankfully.” A soft chuckle, Henry looked over his shoulder at his nephews playing the video game that he had set up. “They're glued to that thing.”

“Ah, like their uncle.” You tease, nudging him in the side. “Why don't we wake sleeping beauty and head for the park? Moose could use a nice, long run. He's been inside all day. I had Alfie this morning, he had an appointment so no dogs allowed.”

Henry snorted. “You're welcome to try and pry them away.”

His brother and sister in law had left the 10 and 6 years old with their uncle for the weekend, it was their anniversary and Henry wasn't doing anything. He had gallantly offered to take his nephews, they arrived Thursday morning and would be leaving around mid day Sunday. How hard could it be? His sister in law had told him not to let them spend the entire weekend in front of a screen.

Easier said than done. He'd had them for 24 hours and the majority of their time, they weren't happy unless they were stuck in front of a game. Henry couldn't blame them, it was an activity the three of them were equally matched at, and they all enjoyed.

“Hey guys,” You call cheerfully, walking into the room. “What's going on?”

You had met Oscar and Aiden before, although you weren't overly familiar with the two boys, you hoped they had remembered you.

At they very least, they would likely remember Moose. He had been the unexpected star of the show, stealing the tray of sausages from the grill allowing himself and Kal to a fine meal. He then proceeded to vomit on the lawn where one of the other nephews managed to step and slip in it. Henry had assured you that it wasn't a big deal. Right, because it wasn't him having to face the shame or clean vomit off of his dog.

“Playing a game,” Aiden answered dropping his controller and turning to you. “Would you like to play? Uncle Henry said it's okay for kids.”

“I'm sure it is, but I don't want to play. Thanks.” You smile, rubbing Moose's back. He stands beside you sniffing the small human.

Kal is awake, stretching and wagging his tail. Moose is here and the fun is never far.

“Okay.” Aiden shrugs turning back to the game.

“Oscar, don't be rude.” Henry scolds from his spot holding up the door frame with his body.

“Oh, hey.” Oscar turns briefly to greet you.

“So, how many more levels to this game?”

“Seven.” Oscar's eyes never leave the screen.

“Ah. Well, I guess you're probably going to play those then. Sorry, Hen, looks like you and Kal are here all day.” You begin to talk, making no sense whatsoever to Henry.

“Wh-I don't.” Henry begins, when you wink at him. Indicating for him to follow the lead. “I guess we are. Too bad.”

Aiden's attention was now piqued. Ah yes, the little ones always caved first. Standing up and walking to his uncle, Aiden hangs onto Henry's hand for a second before whispering to him.

“What were we going to do?” Henry asks out loud. Kal prances and Moose begins to wiggle around as well. Aiden nods.

“I came over to see if your Uncle Henry wanted to go to lunch, or maybe we could go to the park, then get an ice cream. But since you guys have seven levels left.” You shrug as casually as you can. “Guess Moose and I are on our own.”

“I want ice cream!” Aiden cheers. “Oscar, turn off the game. Turn it off! We can go get ice cream! Oscar!” the small boy pesters his big brother.

A sight all too familiar for Henry. He was often the one pestering his brothers to do cool things, too.

“Go away.” Oscar pushes Aiden to the side, trying to play the game.

“Oscar, don't push your brother.” Henry corrects. His brow knit, he means business. “Why don't we turn off the game and go to the park.”

Scowling, Oscar rolls his eyes, a Cavill trait. You can't help giggle at how much the two boys look like their uncle.

“Why can't she take him and we stay here?” Oscar pauses the game.

“Because we are all going, I said so.” Henry pulls rank over the sulking child. “Now, it is my game and I want it turned off. I will banish you from playing the rest of the weekend.”

Did that sort of thing actually work?

Indeed it did, for Henry at least. He didn't have to ask the second time. Oscar did as he was told, powering down the gaming system, not without a pout though. Dogs and children wrangled, everyone was out of the house in a timely fashion. Another grumble came, when the boys – primarily Oscar – realized that this was an adventure to be taken on foot.

Whatever, he would get over it.

Holding tightly to Moose's leash, Aiden walked proudly along side his uncle. The red Aussie being on his best behaviour, although you made sure to keep a close eye in case he got any ideas to run off with the child. Making it to the park in one piece, no run offs or mishaps, was nearly a miracle. Letting the two dogs off to play, Henry handed Oscar the ball and told him to throw it as far and hard as he could.

Aiden didn't go too far, sitting in the grass, chatting idly with you. He told you about his favourite subject at school. His favourite sport and hobbies. The topic of conversation got real, when he leaned in closer. Whispering that his favourite superhero was Ironman, but he would pretend to like Superman to make his uncle Henry happy.

Overhearing the confession, Henry shot you a wink and a slight nod. He was well aware of his nephew's acting skills.

Throwing the ball with his uncle, until the two dogs returned panting and tired, Oscar ignored you and Aiden. Enjoying the time he had to chat with Henry about various things. Sports mostly. He made the observation that the usually shy Aiden was your new best mate. Sitting on your knee in the grass, Aiden laughed as you tickled him. Your bonding interrupted by Kal wandering over and slobbering against your face.

“Kal!” You squeal and push the big dog away. “Get off.”

“I think he's saying it's time for ice cream.” Henry laughed, retrieving Kal.

“Ice cream!” Aiden cheered rushing to his feet, Moose dancing along beside him.

Settled on the grass under a big shady tree, Aiden had his wish. An ice cream cone in his hand, melted debris on his cheeks and chin. He was a picture of happy. Oscar sat with his back against the tree, watching flock of birds near by. Henry rested beside him, Kal's leash in his hand. The big dog licking his paws, having finished a small cup of delicious ice cream.

Sitting beside Aiden, you hold your ice cream for Moose to take a lick. He had his own cup as well, although he refused to share with you. Funny how dogs and children were that way. Henry had shared his with you, insisting that you try the passion fruit frozen yogurt. Resting in the shade, you can't help but enjoy the comfortable silence between the four of you. The boys had been perfect all afternoon, you were certain their mother would be thrilled to hear that they had done something other than played video games. In the silence, Oscar shifted around, sitting to face his Uncle.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.” Henry nodded.

“Is she your girlfriend?”

Hearing the question, you nearly choke. Sputtering and wiping a hand across your chin.

“No, we're friends.” Henry rolls his eyes. Giving you an apologetic look.

“Friends who like to kiss?”

“No, friends who like to sacrifice small children who ask too many questions.” You speak without any thought on that comment. The sheer look of terror on the child's face is enough to force Henry into hiding his laughter.

“Uncle Henry, she's weird.” Aiden licks his ice cream cone, pushing the melting treat a little too hard. Resulting in it splatting to the ground, bottom lip trembling Aiden is on the verge of tears when Kal and Moose rush to the rescue. Kal hunting down the ice cream on the ground, cleaning up. Moose goes straight for the face, licking the remains off of the little boy's face. “Uncle Henry!” Aiden laughs as the dog's tongue tickles his face, Moose now joined by Kal.

“Boys, off.” You attempt to call off the dogs, while Henry has already gone to get Aiden a second cone. “Kal, Moose. Now.”

“Here we are,” Henry holds a new cone, laughing when he sees the sight. Aiden on the ground, Kal and Moose licking his face like it was their new day job. “Well, at least I won't have to clean him up.”

@laketaj24 @the-winter-witcher @viking-raider @sciapod @stars-meets-the-sunlight @honeychicanawrites @badassbakers @cris101071 @fucktrucks @ohjules @zoe-rachel-crisp @mrsadrianraines @angelic-kisses13 @marthasantos95 @hows-my-hair @omgshuddupmeg @shileen91 @moviegirl50 @havenoffandoms @nerdzzone @captstefanbrandt @supernaturalvikingwhore @intototaloblivion @carlya65 @letowolfie @thisisabigmaze @lostinthoughtsandfeelings @heavenly1927 @henchry @mitzwinchester @vicmackeybullshxt @dogshemp @alwayshave-faith @centaine @romyr4 @inside-the-time-stone @nedbear @ly--canthrope@agniavateira @flowerthug @badwolf-in-the-impala @mariahill2001 @mytbel0st @fcgrizi @dancingwendigo @peakygroupie @magdelen69 @s-ravenall @legendarywinchester1 @littlefreya @michelle-1185 @daniig95 @hcfavoritegal @didiintheblog @thiccgeralt @titty-teetee @charlieferret @taytayize123 @mis-lil-red @anndreaae @dearlybelovedluke @gearhead66 @p3nny4urth0ught5 @tinychemicals @mary-ann84 @townmoondaltwistle @buckysgoldenheart @thethirstyarchive @meowpurrbooks @hell1129-blog @nuns-and-roses @vikingsbifrost @comboboo @onlyhenrys @sideh0e @deathonyourtongue @obsessedwithcavill @omgkatinka @woofgocows @newfanhasenteredthechat @lestersglitterglue @speakerforthedead0 @rmtndew @ravenpuff02 @summersong69 @ladyreapermc @fuckoffbard @marswritings @cherrybloomn @radkesgirl83 @harrysthiccthighss @bloodyinspiredfuck @alyxkbrl @horny-nd-bored @aaescritora@writingforhenry @ffreadings @tsukuyomi011 @kaitieskidmore1 @newfanhasenteredthechat @kinbhot4henners @palaiasaurus64 @evnscvll @sofiebstar

- if you want to be added? removed, please let me know

#henry cavill #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x you #Henry and Kal #the (mis)adventures of kal and moose #henry cavill fluff #kal cavill

186 notes · View notes

georgesbestieboo · 3 years

Text

Confessions Pt 1.

Hello my loves! few things before we get started!

The pairing you will read here is an original character of mine with Bucky. She is the biological sister of our beloved Natasha Romanoff, was also put in the red room but later than Nat since she is a couple years younger. Also, the timeline is the comic timeline just to make it a bit more interesting, meaning, Natasha was born in 1928 and Calina, (My OC) was born in 1934 but since the Widows carry their age VERY well Nat will remain the age she appears in the movies and Calina will appear to be 26.

Summary- Bucky and Calina have reunited years after they were the red room lovers, can they become lovers once more or will fear get in the way?

Warnings- A bit about self doubt/disliking body, mentions of torture nothing explicit though, slight swearing, possible spelling and grammar errors (I did check but there are always those things that slip past you)

Calina was not one to party, she would rather spend her Friday nights curled up in her bay window, a fuzzy blanket draped across her lap, a good book clutched tightly in her hands and a warm cup of chamomile tea steaming on her night table. But no. Being an Avenger meant getting dragged to all the famed, insane, and overwhelming parties of Tony Stark and to be honest she hated them. The earsplitting music, the drunk, sweaty bodies pressed together, the...the people, it scared her shitless. Alas, here she was getting dragged to the mall with her best friend and sister Natasha Romanoff in search of a party dress.

“Come on! It’ll be fun!” The redhead promised, pouting her lip as she held open the department store door.

“I don’t know Nat…” Calina trailed off eyeing the endless racks of sparkly dresses that certainly were not her. “You know this isn’t, me” The assassin’s eyes just about bugged out her head as she pulled a dress with such a plunged neck seeming like it was barely attached. Natasha instantly swatted the thin material away, taking her hand as she led her towards the back.

“It used to be though,” She winked “Remember those days, Lina? Partying till dawn, drinking so much we’d see the stars, and-oh!” A short but joyous laugh escaped both lips as they thought about the nights they had spent after they had eventually both escaped the Red Room.

Calina’s laughter soon died out and her face became serious, “Yes, but, that was then. This, this is now”

“Oh don’t be such a sourpuss”

“I am not a sourpuss, ew you sound like Alexi”

Natasha shuddered.

***

“Absolutely not” Calina declared the second she slipped the dress over her body.

“Oh come on!” Nat sighed from the corner of the fitting room. They had been at this for almost 2 hours, every dress tried on ending up on the same, ever-growing pile of fabric on the floor. “This one looks good!”

Calina shook her head hearing none of it. “Nope, nope, nope. It’s too…” Her fingers slid across the scratch rime stones. “Glittery”

“Glitter is nice though!”

“And it’s so…” Her eyes trailed over her exposed figure in the mirror, her hands coming up to cover the neckline dip that reached her stomach. “Low”

“And that’s hot, so I don’t see the problem”

Turning to face her sister Calina crossed her arms, “Why can’t I just wear one of your dresses?” She whined “You have like, a million”

Natasha stood, scoffing. “One, you never wear a dress twice, and two, we need a dress that hugs your beautiful curves perfectly,” She pretended to make an hourglass outline of Calina’s body with her hands, the spy rolled her eyes. “I wanna make Barnes drool when he sees you”

Ah, the truth comes out.

“I knew that’s what you were trying to do!” Calina yelled, pumping her fist back. “I knew there was an ulterior motive!” The older woman smiled shyly,

“You got me, but hey! In my defense you and Barnes flirting with each other all the time and neither of you doing anything is annoying, I just wanna give you two a small push”

“We do not flirt all the time”

“Yeah, yeah you do”

“Молчи” Slipping out of the uncomfortable dress and breathing a sigh of relief she couldn’t help but groan, her eyes taking in all of the discarded clothes. “This isn’t going to work, Natalia, I look horrid in all of these” She squeezed her stomach as she stood before the mirror in her bra and underwear, her fingers pinching away at her skin, wishing it hugged her body tighter. Natasha’s heart clenched as she watched her sister doubt herself, something she had hated The Red Room for taking the idea of beauty from her mind. They had taught her that she would never be pretty, that she would never be enough, that she could never be loved. What hurt, even more, was knowing that her beloved sister still was haunted by those teachings. Those words constantly hiding in the shadows, waiting for a crack in her walls just to seep in and poison her mind. She slowly approached her sister, carefully pulling her hands away from her stomach and holding them tight.

“You are beautiful,” She whispered “Inside and out. Don’t let them control your head” Handing her the last dress they had left to try on she gave a small smile “Just try this last one on and if it doesn’t work, then I won’t make you go”

“Fine” Slowly taking the dress from her sister’s hands she began to step into it, the silky material sliding snuggly up her body as she wriggled her hands through the thin straps. She heard Natasha gasp but she couldn’t bring herself to look in the mirror.

“Look up младшая сестра, you look beautiful. This is the one”

“Are you sure?”

The woman chuckled, “Yes now hurry up and look”

So she did.

And my god did her heart flutter.

She actually looked pretty.

The dress was a deep sapphire blue, with cross material over her chest showing a bit of her stomach. The neckline dipped just enough to show the curve of her breasts but not too much as to make her uncomfortable. The dress was satin and tight, the shiny material clinging to each and every curve making her actually like her body for the time being. It stopped about mid-thigh a bit shorter than she preferred but everything else was perfect so she could let it slide for one night.

“I like it” Her eyes were bright with excitement, something her sister had not seen in her the other in a while. “I think James will like it too” She added sheepishly attempting to hide the heat that went to her cheeks.

“Ha! I knew it! You still like him!” Nat danced around the small dressing room triumphantly.

“Okay, okay, don’t make such a big deal about it” Calina huffed. “Of course I still like him” Her mind wandered to the first time she had met Bucky, long ago in the Red Room, the soldier teaching her many ways to kill. Romantic, I know. But it was more than that, at the time he was The Winter Soldier, yes but he had a soft spot for the ballerina. Disobeying his strict orders to sneak in and see her during the night, spending it under the moon talking about everything and anything, sharing light kisses. It didn’t last long though, soon the authorities found out, ripping her soldier from her grasp. As the years went on she never forgot about the handsome, yet the broken man she met once upon a time. They didn’t meet again until the day on the bridge where he attacked everyone but her to find out later that he had recognized her instantly giving Hydra a run for its money as he tried to get back to her.

Once they were reunited she knew she had her James back. While the road to trust and recovery was rough, she was by his side the entire time, holding his hand as they walked back from hell, getting through their ongoing trauma together. Calina’s feeling resurfaced, and the team knew his did too, but for two of the world, greatest trained assassins they were completely oblivious.��

“No shit” Natasha smirked, pulling Calina from her thoughts. “Now, let’s go max Tony’s credit card with this dress and then get finish getting ready at the tower. Sound good?”

Finishing getting back into her street clothes that consisted of her over-sized jeans a sweatshirt of Bucky’s she had stolen months ago. Taking her sister’s outstretched hand a smile tugged at her lips. “Sounds good”

***

Bucky groaned as a knock echoed throughout this floor. Shuffling to open it he was met by Sam who had a shit-eating grin plastered across his face. “I know something you don’t” He sung, pushing past the super soldier and plopping himself down in his living room.

“I don’t remember inviting you in” Bucky deadpanned, holding his face in his hands.

“-I just ran into Nat and Calina downstairs”

“Cool do you want a metal?” “Will you let me finish?! Goddamn” Sam snapped “Anyways, they’re getting ready for the party tonight. Keyword their, more than one, meaning Calina is actually attending tonight”

Okay, that caught Buckys attention. “Lina’s coming? She never comes to the party’s?” He would know. Every time Tony threw a party, Bucky would always bring her up a plate of food, staying with her for dinner but eventually getting dragged back down to mingle by Steve even though he wanted nothing more than to stay with the girl.

“I know, crazy right? You should totally make your move tonight, man!” The Sergeant glared at Sam.

“Why would I do that?”

“You flirt with her all the time. You’re always touching her. You follow the woman around like a lost puppy-”

“Do not”

“-You guys have such strong chemistry anyone in the world could see it and-and! Not to mention, you guys dated before, right, in the Red Room?”

He grit his teeth at the mention of that cruel place, thinking back to the torture they had to endure. “I’m not sure if you could call it dating, we didn’t do dating in the Red Room.”

“But you loved her then?”

“Of course I did” He sighed, running a tired hand through his unruly hair. Calina Romanova was his light, his steady, constant shining star. The person he fought for, the reason he even lasted as long as he did, the reason he never gave up because after all the memory wiping sessions, her smile was always in the back of his mind.

While he had forgotten everything, even himself, he never forgot the time they spent together, hoping, praying, he could hear her laugh one more time. And after 36 years, he finally could.The weight of all he had done lessened as she ran to him just before Steve had reached his apartment, he remembered it like it was yesterday.

**Flashback**

She stood in his kitchen, the Widow suit he knew oh so well clinging to her skin as her fingers skimmed over his dusty table. “Hello James” She had whispered, her familiar accented voice standing up the hairs on his back. She stood to face him, her bright blue eyes boring into his as she smiled softly. “I’m not here to hurt you. You and I were...friends long ago I-I’m not sure if you remember me but-”

He couldn’t believe it

“Солнышко” The nickname he had not used in so long rolled off his tongue like he used it every day since they last parted. He couldn’t help but grin as the girl who danced around his dreams stood before him. Slowly, he approached her, his right arm reaching out to cup her face as if to check if she really was here and not just one of Hydra’s evil tricks. “Is it really you?” A tear slipped down her cheeks as a laugh bubbled throughout her chest. “You remember me” Bucky pulled her to his chest, the woman instantly responding by wrapping her arms around his torso tightly, afraid to ever let go. They held onto each other as if the world around them was crumbling down, after all these years they were finally able to hold one another again, tears stung in both of their eyes as they crushed each other into the embrace. “Of course I remember you, Calina” He murmured into her hair, breathing in the scent of Cherry Blossoms and crisp fall nights he had oh longed for. “I’ve missed you” He admitted.

“And I, you”

Then of course Steve Rogers had to burst in with the whole German Special Services on his ass, but ever since then, she hasn’t left his side. His soulmate was placed back into his life.

**Flashback ended**

“Yo, Buck, you still with me” The man shook his head, attempting to shake away the memory seeping to the front of his mind.

“Yeah, sorry”

“It’s good, but you really should talk to Cal, its getting annoying watching you two make goo-goo eyes at each other and not do anything about it. So either you say something or I will” He warned, waving a finger as he dramatically excited the floor. “Oh, and you might wanna start getting ready!” He called from outside the door. Bucky rolled him but made his way to the dark blue suit he had laid out days before.

“Here goes nothing”

~~Translations~~

Молчи- Shut up

младшая сестра- Younger sister

Солнышко- My sun

A/N Okay! I think that went well, let me know what you think and leave a heart if you enjoyed it! Thank you so much for reading, part two should be up soon but I’m on Vacation, although I will try my best to update quickly. feel free to leave recomondations! Lots of love and know I’m so proud of you!

~Celeste

14 notes · View notes

winchester-purgatory · 3 years

Text

Fake marriage, snobby mother and booty calls | Dean Winchester x OC

Summary: Awsten’ sister tells their parents she’s married - she isn’t. Dean accepts to play along when her parents comes to visit for dinner

Word count: 1670

Notes: I wrote this for the Christmas bingo I participated back in December but only now got to finish it

Dean Winchester wasn't husband material. He liked old cars, 80s rock music, had a bit of a drinking problem and had been in jail. He hated to wear ties, being more of a flannel kind of guy, and always had oil or grease stained hands from fixing cars.

Her mom was going to hate him.

He was also a bit of a ladies man, but that part didn't need to be mentioned at the Christmas gathering.

''Are you sure this is a good idea?’’

''You gotta be there,'' Awsten insisted, looking at Dean over the island countertop where they were having breakfast. ''My sister already told everyone I was married. I would be the family’s laughingstock if I they show up for dinner and there is no man in my apartment after such a big news.''

''I still don't get why you couldn't tell them it was a misunderstanding. Why make things complicated when they were initially simple?''

''Because they're from another generation and won't understand. They won't find it funny that we played the 'just married' card to get free alcohol. Or that we only hook up on the daily.'' The redhead sighed, taking a sip of her hot coffee. ''If Charlie hadn't tagged us on social media, my sister would've never seen the picture and caption...''

Dean reached out, squeezing Awsten’s bare thigh on the bar stool, and looked at her with apologetic eyes. ''Charlie’s really sorry. She didn’t think the picture would get to your family.''

''I know. It’s okay. I made my peace with it. Now, we just have to play pretend.'' She stood, taking her empty plate and putting it in the sink to wash later.

Today was going to be a long day and Awsten was dreading all of it. Having her parents and sister over for Christmas wasn’t part of her December plans. For the last two years, she had escaped the family reunions and had intended to do it again this year. She didn't hate her family, they were just so strict, judgemental and draining to be around.

She'd rather rent a cabin in the mountains with a couple friends - Charlie and Dean included. At least, that promised a lot of fun.

Dean joined her by the sink, doing the same with his dishes.

''Thank you for doing this, Dean.''

As insane as the situation was, Awsten was glad to have someone like Dean. Not everyone would have agreed to partake in her crazy plan and play married couple for the holidays, even for one night. And, he will definitely add some spice to her family's Christmas dinner.

''It was my idea in the first place to get the alcohol. And, I wasn’t going to say no to free turkey.''

Awsten scoffed. ''The turkey might be free, but you are helping me. I’m not gonna do all the hard work by myself, Winchester.''

''I would try to eclipse myself, but since you did most of the work last night, I guess I could help you for today,'' he said as he slid a hand under Awsten's tee shirt to cup one of her cheeks and gave it a small squeeze.

After six hours of chopping, whisking and seasoning, the faux-married couple were finally ready to receive Awsten’s family.

The redhead has put a red tablecloth to mask the chips on the wooden table, something that would've definitely not gone unnoticed by her mother, and pulled out the pretty candle set she had received three Christmases ago to decorate the center.

Dean lit up the Christmas tree filled with miscandellous, non-traditional ornaments and hoped no one would point out the missing Christmas crib under the tree. It was somewhere in the storage closet and Awsten didn't feel like fetching it.

As they were setting the table, Dean caught the silver ring on the redhead’s finger. ''Just so you know, I would've never offered you this cheap ass looking ring. My wife deserves something better than a plastic rock.''

Awsten narrowed her eyes. ''I did with what I had and with the time I had, Dean! I couldn't get myself a real wedding ring. Diamonds are hella expensive.''

''You didn’t even get me one.''

''I forgot. But, knowing my family, they won't even notice. They'll be too occupied looking elsewhere,'' she promised.

''You mean my charming smile?''

She glanced at his flannel and stubbles, both red flags in her mother's book. ''Among others.''

It was around six o’clock when the doorbell rang. Awsten smoothed her velvet dress and checked her lipstick in the hallway mirror before opening the door.

''How can you get married and not tell us? I didn't raise you like this,'' her mom asked, skipping the greetings and walking in like it was her own place.

Awsten contained herself, forcing a smile. ''Hello to you too, Mom…''

Richard and Emilie, Awsten’s dad and sister, followed inside, shutting the door behind. They shed peeled off their winter layers and hung them on the overflowing coat hanger.

The elder woman peered into the apartment, looking for the handsome man her daughter had married. ''Now, where is that husband of yours? We didn't make all that travel for nothing.''

''I’m right here, Mrs. Torres,'' Dean replied, coming to the entrance to greet the guests. He kissed both her mom and sister’s cheeks and shook hands with Richard, his politeness surprising the Torres.

Although he had succeeded to impress her with his politeness, Dean didn't earn Cecelia's approval. She gave him an up and down look, disapproval casting itself on her face almost immediately.

''Shall we move to the kitchen? Dinner is ready.''

''What's your career, Dean?'' Cecelia asked, attacking him with questions as soon as they sat down around the table.

The redhead gave her mother a dirty look, knowing exactly what she was doing. To most, it looked like Cecelia was being nice and trying to get to know Dean, but she was being a snake and trying to find valid reasons to not like Dean to back herself with when she’ll later confront Awsten.

Dean swallowed his bite before responding. ‘’I'm a mecanicien, ma'am. I work at my uncle's auto-shop.''

''Ah.'' She glanced at her cadet daughter and back to Dean, disapproval in her eyes. ''Are you planning on taking over the business?''

''I love cars, but owning an auto-shop isn’t in my plans for the future.''

''What is, then?''

''Owning a bar. Commercializing my own beer...or whiskey, perhaps. Something along those lines.''

''I assume you are studying business?'' Mr. Torres asked, suddenly taking interest in the conversation, owning himself a business.

Dean shook his head. ''No. I’m not in college, Sir. College isn’t for me.''

''How did you meet?''

''Was it like the movies? Your car broke and he repaired it?'' Emilie asked with a snicker, making fun of her sister.

Awsten glared at her. ''No. We met through Charlie, my roommate. You remember her? She and Dean are long date friends.''

As the dinner progressed, Cecelia’s disdain toward Dean was getting more and more apparent - and she made little efforts to hide her feelings.

''If you'll excuse us, I need a drink. Awsten, darling, will you come help me in the kitchen?'' She flashed Dean a forced, bitter smile and stood, heading to the kitchen for some privacy.

''You don't like him.'' taking a glass out of the cabinet to

''With reasons! Have you seen this guy? I don't know what you find in him. He looks like...a lumberjack. You are worth so much more than him, Awsten. Guys like him don't go far in life,'' she said in true Cecelia Torres fashion, always quick to judge others.

''Well, we're already married, Mom. What can you do?''

''Is this why you got married in secret? Because you knew we wouldn't approve.''

An unsurprised laugh left the redhead's lips. ''Of course you would think that… Yes, Mom, I married a guy solely to spite you.'' Awsten poured the strong alcohol in the glass, the amber liquid gliding over the baby Yoda shaped ice cubes. ''Is it so difficult for you to believe that I love Dean? Just because I was raised in high society doesn't mean I wish to follow that kind of life.''

Cecelia huffed. ''You say that now, but you'll change your mind.''

''I doubt it.''

''Did he...force you into this? Marrying him.''

Awsten's eyes widened. She couldn't believe the words that left her mother's mouth. ''I'm leaving. You're being crazy.'' She took the drink she had prepared for her mother and left the kitchen, needing it.

''What about my drink?''

''Congratulation, Mom hates you. You’re everything she didn’t want for me.''

''Aw, damn,'' Dean said with sarcasm, helping Awsten clean up. ''I thought I had made a good impression.''

The redhead bit back a smile. ''I’m sorry for how she behaved toward you. For the way she talked about you. She’s insufferable sometimes.''

Dean shook his head. ''Don't apologize for her. I don't care what she says about me.'' He brought the leftovers to the fridge, trying to control his grin at the thought of stealing a tupperware of turkey for his lunch tomorrow. ''And it's not like we really are married - not that I'd care more then.''

''Now you get why I never visit my family. They're all similar variants of my mother.''

''They say family wants the best for you, but it's not always the case. I've stopped caring about others' opinion of me long ago. I can take a snobby mother who believes I forced her daughter into marrying me.''

Awsten stopped washing the plate, her stomach dropping. ''Oh no... You heard that?''

Out of all the disgusting things her mother had said tonight, this took the crown. Awsten had hoped Dean hadn't heard, but the kitchen wasn't very soundproof.

She opened her mouth to apologize once again, but Dean beat her.

''Don't say it.'' He turned around to face the redhead, eyes soft on her. ''She can assume whatever she want of me, but I'm still your main booty call,'' Dean added with a smirk.

''Dean!'' She hit his shoulder at his crude words, holding back a smile.

He shrugged and continued what he was doing.

#dean winchester #dean winchester fic #reader x dean winchester #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #supernatural fic #fake marriage au

29 notes · View notes

kyber-crystal · 4 years

Text

Divided We Fall

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Words: ~2.7k

Summary: In which she feels torn between the man she’s grown to love, whose ideas she agrees with, and her mentor and brother figure - who took her in with open arms and always accepted her when nobody else could.

Warnings: mentions of violence, angst, soft steve as always. you know the drill

A/N: tony’s your sort-of older brother (he took you in to train you not long before howard and maria passed), and you’re around steve’s age? I think? idk. includes a short IW scene but the time skip isn’t as drastic. SUPER SHITTY BC THIS IS A REALLY OLD ONESHOT

Tags: @pies-writes-and-more <3

Steve stood alone in the isle after Peggy’s funeral, leaning against the pew as he stared blankly down at the ground with his hands stuffed in his pockets.

You silently approached him and without introduction, he began to speak. "When I came out of the ice, I thought everyone I had known was gone. Then I found out that she was alive. I was just lucky to have her."

"She had you back, too."

Steve looked up, meeting your gaze. "Who else signed?"

"Tony, Rhodey, Vision, Nat."

"Clint?"

"Says he's retired," you smiled slightly.

"Wanda?"

"TBD. I'm off to Vienna for the signing of the Accords. There's plenty of room on the jet."

Steve sighed and bowed his head.

"Just because it's the path of least resistance," you continued, "doesn't mean it's the wrong path. Staying together is more important than how we stay together."

"What are we giving up to do it?" He shook his head, unconvinced by your words. "I'm sorry, Y/N. I can't sign it."

"I know. I don't want to, either. But it's not like I have any other choice."

"The thing is, you do."

"You know why I am." You gave him a hard stare. "Tony...he's basically the only family I have left. I'm no longer a daughter, no longer a girl with dreams...no longer with hope. I'm a weapon. As much as I don't agree with him, betraying him is the last thing I wanna do. He’s my mentor. I can’t just turn against him like that...it wouldn’t feel right."

"Y/N..."

"You know what I've done," you took in a deep breath, "I don't want to hurt any more people. I don't want to be controlled by a government that might not deem everything big enough of a threat for us to go out and do something about it, but I can't risk any more than I already have. I don't have any other choice but to sign those Accords, Steve."

"Then what are you doing here?"

"I didn't want you to be alone."

You stepped forward, carefully pulling him into an embrace and at first, he tensed up at your touch but eventually relaxed, letting his arms wrap around you to pull you closer. And he just held you there, one arm wrapped tightly around your waist, the other one held to the back of your head. Your head was buried in his chest and the warmth of him felt so familiar and safe; oddly comforting, that your chest began to ache because you knew in a matter of time you'd be ripped apart again.

Steve felt guilty. Despite the fact that he was the majority of the reason why all of this was happening, you still found it in your heart to look past it all and forgive him, to accept him for who he was.

The broken woman standing before him was someone he'd grown to care about far more than he wanted himself to. Knowing that it wasn't long before you were taken away from him and forced to stand against him only made his grip around you tighten, as he was afraid to let you go out of his sight.

...

Seeing you across from him on the opposite side of the battlefield, standing firmly in between your Tony and T'Challa, broke his heart. If he was forced to fight Tony's team, he would. But he wasn't going to fight you, no matter what.

Everyone, while they were all busy fighting each other, could clearly tell something was going on between the two of you. But they didn't question it. They could clearly tell Steve loved you too much to even try and lay a finger on you and when someone else tried to, he quickly advanced on them.

You finally caved and turned last minute towards the end of the battle, unable to stand against the one man you cared about more than anyone else that wasn't family.

Everyone's actions followed with consequences. Though you'd switched sides abruptly, you'd been granted permission to stay with Tony at the compound under strict circumstances that you never stepped out of line again, or you'd be sent to the Raft prison along with the rest of Team Cap as well.

"Cap loves you, you know," Rhodey noticed your solemn expression as you, him, and Tony sat around in the lounge, taking in the aftermath.

You shook your head, squeezing your eyes shut as you pressed your fingers to your temples. "I made a mistake."

"We all make mistakes. People do bad things when they're trying to survive."

"Tony, I'm sorry," you turned over to the billionaire, "but I just...I couldn't stand against him. Not when we've stuck together for so long." The words that came out of Tony's mouth surprised you.

"I know. He couldn't do that, either."

"We've all done things that we'd like to take back," you murmured, staring down at your hands now in your lap, "Pain makes people change. I'd like to believe I didn't just do this, I didn't almost turn on you guys. You know I didn't want to sign. But I did, because you're like my family. I can't fight my own family." "He's made mistakes, yeah," Rhodey said, "but we've all messed up, you know. We’re only human.”

"My mistake was letting myself love someone I'd have to end up hurting eventually," you stated bitterly, a sharp edge to your voice.

"Cap made that same mistake, too," Tony spoke up. "We all screwed up. Some of us just have to find it in ourselves to forgive...but I don't know if I can do that yet."

"I know," you glanced over at him, "I miss them so much. Your parents...they changed my life for the better."

The billionaire took in a shaky breath. "I miss them too."

"You guys might wanna open this now," Rhodey handed you an envelope with your name on it, and Tony a package with a phone inside. "Tony Stank."

You snorted, and Tony cracked a small smile.

"Table for one, Tony Stank?" you joked.

"You're practically a Stank too, Y/L/N, you know that," he raised an eyebrow at you.

"Tony Stank just sounds funnier."

You quickly fell silent as you opened the letter.

Y/N, I'm glad you're back at the compound. I don't like the idea of you and Stark rattling around a mansion by yourself. We all need family. The Avengers are yours, maybe more so than mine. I've been on my own since I was 18. I never really fit in anywhere, even in the army. My faith's in people, I guess. Individuals. And I'm happy to say that, for the most part, they haven't let me down. Which is why I can't let them down either. Locks can be replaced, but maybe they shouldn't. I know I hurt you both. I guess I thought by not telling you about Howard and Maria that I was sparing you, but I can see now that I was really sparing myself, and I'm sorry. Hopefully one day you can understand. I wish we all agreed on the Accords, I really do. I know you're doing what you believe in, and that's all any of us can do. I know you didn't want to sign, but you were right in siding with your family. Even though you were on the opposite side of the battlefield, I couldn't fight you. I didn't want to hurt you. I still don't and I never will. No matter what happens. Just know that I ...

"Priority call from Secretary Ross," FRIDAY's voice drifted through the room, "There's been a breach at the Raft prison." "Yeah, put him through."

"Y/N, Tony, we have a problem, Cap and—" Ross called in.

"Ah, please hold," you interrupted.

"No, don't—"

You glanced back down at the letter in your hands, filled from top to bottom with Steve's elegant handwriting.

So, no matter what. I promise you, if you need us, if you need me, I'll be there. It's you, it always has been and it always will be, and I'm sorry for realizing that too late. I'm sorry for not being able to come back. I know I promised I'd always be by your side, and I will. Although I may not in the best situation to return right now, I promise you I'll see you soon. Take care, -S.R.

Several tears welled up in your eyes and slipped down your face as you closed the letter, staining the paper with dark spots.

"So, what'd he say," Tony took in your watery eyes and hard-set jaw. "Something wrong?"

"...He's on the run," your voice broke, "but they're all out. He broke them out.”

...

170 DAYS LATER

It was almost half a year of Team Cap jumping from motel to motel under different names and disguises every night, while still trying to defend the world as best as they possibly could. And when they were caught, Steve was sure that they'd be sent back.

"He'll come back soon, I'm sure of it," Rhodey reassured you as you watched the news of the search for Captain America was still underway. "When someone loves you the way he does, he's gonna find a way to return."

"He doesn't love me. I'm no better than a monster. And...I'm pretty sure he has heart eyes for Sharon."

"Well, he fucked up on that part," he agreed, clasping your shoulder, "but you know what? In the end, he still loves you. We all saw the way he looked at you back in Germany, he didn't want to hurt you. If he truly cared, he wouldn't hurt you even if you were on the opposing side, and that's what he did. I know he's gonna return: for your sake."

"I don't know why I'm letting myself do this."

"What? Loving him? That isn't anything new."

"New?"

"Sweetheart, I knew from the moment I first saw you look at him that you were. Look, love is worth fighting for, but sometimes you can't be the only one fighting. At times, people need to fight for you. You gotta be vulnerable and let him in your heart. Otherwise you'll keep feeling like you're in pain."

He did return.

You'd gone to trial and defended him under your name two weeks prior. Much to your current oblivion, your persuasion had worked and he was granted release and allowed to return, though he did so under the same strict circumstances given to you as well. He was warned to not pull off something like this a second time, and promise to ask for the government's aid whenever necessary.

So you're not expecting to buzz him and the others in late one Friday night.

"Y/N."

"Nat?"

"Can you buzz us in?"

"Uh...yeah, sure," you nodded, opening the gates to let them through. Within minutes, they were standing right in front of you, looking the exact same as they did five months ago, though the exhaustion was clear in all their faces.

"Greetings, Y/N." The android's arm was slung around Sam's shoulders, who was helping to hold him upright.

"Vision."

"It's good to see you guys, Rhodey greeted.

"t's great to see you too," Wanda smiled. She seemed to have aged a bit since you'd last seen her though she was only a teenager, but still looked much younger than everyone nonetheless.

"Well, you guys really look like crap. Must've been a rough couple of months."

"Yeah, well, the hotels weren't exactly five-star," Sam shrugged. "Where's Clint?"

"After the whole Accords situation, him and Scott took a deal. It was too tough on their families, they're on house arrest," Natasha explained.

She turned to you and gave you a tight hug, squeezing your hand as she pulled away. "Hey. How you holding up?"

"Could be better," you gave her a sad smile. "I'm fine."

"Y/N, hey."

Steve stepped out from behind Wanda and Sam and took a few tentative steps towards you, his feet feeling heavier by the second.

The one man you thought you wouldn't be seeing again for a while was now in front of you, and you weren't sure how to react. Your heartbeat was deafeningly loud in your ears, drowning out the sounds of everything else as everyone fell silent upon seeing you two interact.

"Hey," you responded a few moments later, stuffing your hands in your jacket pockets. You lifted your head slowly, an unrecognizable sort of emotion flickering in your eyes for a brief second before you averted his gaze and looked back down at the ground.

He still looked the same, with his dirty-blonde hair and tall, muscular build, those piercing blue eyes and comforting arms. The sight of him alone made your chest ache and your stomach twist itself into knots at the same time you felt butterflies flying around. You hated that you allowed yourself to care about him so much, that your body still reacted to the sight of him even after not seeing him for so long.

"Uh...we'll give you two a moment," Sam awkwardly cleared his throat, leaving the room with the others.

When you glanced back up again you could see just how much being away had affected his overall appearance: his bright blue eyes that glittered with authority and passion had lost their light, red-rimmed and bloodshot with dark circles underneath that indicated it had been days since he last slept.

"I'm sorry, I know it took a while, but I'm here now. I missed you."

"I missed you, too," you said quietly. You swallowed hard, feeling the familiar sting to your eyes as you struggled to keep your tears at bay.

He sighed and wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close like you'd done to him before all those months ago, gently rubbing your back. Despite the heaviness in your stomach, it still fluttered at the feeling of your body pressed against his and you sunk into his warmth, his touch making the room feel warmer somehow. His arms that held you were soft and comforting, yet strong and firm at the same time, and the feeling of being so close to him was so dizzying to the point it made your head spin. But you didn't want to let go, so you held onto him as tight as you possibly could.

During the time of his absence, when the majority of your days were spent wandering around the compound alone, you taught yourself to ignore the pressing feeling in the back of your head, the way you felt as if there was some void in your heart that could only be filled by him and him alone. Day by day you attempted to convince yourself that no, you weren't falling in love with him, no, you weren't supposed to fall in love with him because it'd only destroy you in the end.

Yet you still did.

Always playing the part of promoting liberty and justice for all, Steve believed his sole purpose was to inspire and empower others to make the world a better place, blending into the mantra of 'a star-spangled man with a plan.' He always planned things out, always knew what he was doing.

So when he realized as he was holding you there in his arms, that he'd fallen in love with you, he didn't have a plan. And frankly, it terrified him.

He didn't have a plan, so he just decided to go with what his gut told him.

Steve brushed a stray hair that fell across your face and tucked it behind your ear. You looked up in surprise, heart hammering against your chest as his thumb brushed ever so gently against your cheek before he leaned down and pressed his lips to yours.

That's all he needed to do in order to eradicate all the anger, all the pent-up frustration and other emotion inside of you, to make you forgive him for every little thing that he's done to break your heart because there was nothing he could possibly do to make you love him any less.

"I love you," you mumbled as you pulled away, resting your head against his broad chest.

"I know. I love you too."

187 notes · View notes

sunset-novice-writer · 4 years

Note

May I request married to Aziawa headcanons?🥺👉🏾🦋

Thank you so much for this first head canon request @dr1ppyk9!! I never thought that I would actually get one of this, but hope you enjoy these. You guys should go check out her blog it’s really good, and they are really nice. 😊😀

I want to give a shout out to my editor for their help @whisperwastes, and wanted to give credit where it is due for betaing as well. Still, if you guys see anything I need to fix let me know. Stay awesome everyone!!

Now on to King of Sleeping bags, and the first Cat Daddy ( Ihave no idea I why I put that in here. >~< ^ ^;)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Married to Aizawa Shouta HCS

Married Life as Aizawa’s Waifu/ Husbando Includes:

I would expect a lazy cuddle session with this man especially if you're a spouse.He loves these after tough days from his Hero work,and teaching the next generation of heroes in the making.

At the end of the day coming home to you to bask in a much deserved cuddly time is something he loves.You’re his favorite body pillow though he will tell you so with sleepy grumbles. This something that is intimate to be close to his spouse; this is very peaceful for him.

The thought of being wrapped up in his significant other’s embrace is the epitome of soothing for him. I imagine he has some trauma from the situations that he deals with from Hero work, and nightmares that follow it. One of the things that I think it could be is the USJ incident with a gentle touch to wake Shouta up from the dreams.

In the mornings, he likes it when his spouse helps him with his eye drops, fussing over him about keeping up his morning routine to make sure he doesn’t strain his eyes during the day

His spouse probably has to stop him from buying cats/cat themed things.

He is a homebody and very rarely likes to go out for dates. If his spouse wants to go on a date, he’ll plan something for them to do at home or close to home. Things like making makeshift beds in the living room to binge a show or staying up late at night to camp out on the balcony and talk about your pasts and futures.

I was thinking about a future pet--I definitely think that a cat would be the best option for Aizawa and his spouse. Bonus points, if they are a huge cat lover like he is though it gives him reasons to get cat toys for the kitten. If their s/o was allergic I do see them trying to find a hypoallergenic cat. Sphinx would be the choice of cat they’d get though there are problems for them to choose from.

In terms of affection, I don’t think he is much for PDA in public; he'd probably feel a bit awkward about it. I think if it’s his s/o he might be okay with a kiss on the cheek though he likes to keep things private between himself and his spouse.He is fine with holding hands out in public though showering affection is something I don’t see him doing.

He likes to keep himself as professional as possible in public, but he doesn’t mind his spouse kissing his cheek. He doesn’t mind if they run their hand down his back quickly, then he won’t put up much of a fuss

When Aizawa is home with his spouse in a comfortable private setting with soft kisses every so often. Giving them hugs in the early hours of the morning is more his speed.

Married with Kids

He is a wonderful dad to his children and not to forget super protective to boot.(especially if he has a daughter don't why but I can see it more there.)When it comes to other people wanting to hold his kids he much rather not have to do that. if he can help it that is.He's a pretty much hands on dad all the way.

What can I say this man does his research if you're expecting a baby.Or planning to adopt one with him.Before your child even arrives he is looking through baby books galore--medical books, good child development and all that entails for you kids overall wellness.Aizawa will strive to be the world's best day for your little bundle of joy.

As for getting babysitters, Shouta will go with Hizashi and Kayama.Despite being a bit reluctant to do so though.Yet, he trusts them to look after them when he's not around.

If you need anything during this time he will surely be the one to get it for you.Always the supportive spouse during your pregnancy which is a given anyway.I totally see Aizawa doing all the housework chores, and cooking something nutritious for you too.In the beginning, it might be a bit of a mess though he'll probably be covered in something at the first time he does it.The sight might have his spouse finding it cute and attempt to stop giggles at the sight of it.

Anything that involves changing diapers,spit up, and messes in general when it comes to the baby he is chill.He helps with the clean up as well as helping make bottles before going about his day.Plus, he is really laid back when it comes to these sorts of things which good for his spouse.

When it comes to nap time it is something he is for all the way.Sometimes you can't resist taking some photos of the pair as they sleep peacefully together.It really is a sight to see how easily they fall asleep with their father with small baby cooing leaving their lips.

Instead of getting a baby carrying a sling, I think Aizawa would probably make one out of his capture weapon.If he goes out and about with his baby.I think this would fit if you all went out for family time too.

As for when his children gets bigger he is active in helping with their academics.Aizawa being a teacher will come in handy helping them with homework.He will probably offer some tutor sessions if their child needs some extra help in a certain class, and any in general.Purely, is there to help his child succeed he is there if they need any extra help.

If his child has a quirk he will help them to get a better grasp on mastering it.Probably will incorporate fitness into their routine to help stay active, and helps the get control on their quirk.If the child if quirkiness that wouldn't matter he would love them regardless of that fact.

Entering UA you can be your child and will have their skills down to a point there they are finely tuned. Aizawa will put some sense into your kid's head that they aren't above anyone else.Everyone is equal when it comes to the skills of their quirk.

Now, the big thing he will be super strict about is dating.He vents about how people’s intentions could be villainous towards his precious baby.I can see Shouta as a big intimidating lion when his daughter/son thinks about asking someone out.(protect yourself please...lol)All the little dirty thoughts they might be directing towards his child--well he doesn't like it.

His spouse caught him one time on top of a wooden stumps that connected the cable lines.Aizawa kept a keen eye during their child's date with their crush and frowned when he/she gave their crush a slight peck on the cheek.Silently, fuming at the sight that was his precious child.

He ended up almost getting caught out when you texted him.Aizawa had to make a stealthy get away before your child caught him. Still, he does get over this though your child to him will be his baby. For the most part, he is logical though does not like to think his kid will be a hormonal minx.

As for the people around them he just knows their irrational beasts. I wanna say that he is not looking forward to talking about the birds and bees with you.I feel that you both will possibly be there to have that discussion if it ever comes up.Please pray you never break their heart unless you want Aizawa to give you a piece of his mind.

If his child ever gets married when they’re older he will be sure to walk them down the aisle. He might be glaring at his child’s soon to be wife/husband (Might be full blown if it’s Bakugou he just smirks at him as he mouths,”There my baby now, Mummy)I do see him getting emotional when he sees them for the first time in their wedding gown--or tuxedo. I feel like he would be good at hiding it just a smidge. (plus, correct me if I am wrong, lol) He would make sure to have the dance with his daughter or son after the party.

His grandchild will think he is the coolest person ever wanting to hear all about his stories as a hero. Probably some embarrassing ones of their parents back when they were younger while probably going to get training, and help with school.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

To all the Aizawa Shouta fans, I hope I did this man justice. If you feel I’m missing something let me know. I will probably update this with fixes though I could not be more grateful for getting a headcanon request. @dr1ppyk9 thank you very much for this. 😭😭 I hope you like this thanks for sending it in which it was a blast to write.😊😊😀

@whisperwastes, thanks for helping out with this I am truly grateful for the help you’ve given me.

#Aizawa Shouta #Headcanons #BNHA #Aizawa x reader #firstrequest #bnha x reader

237 notes · View notes