#his tired sighing “please” and the way she does everything in her power to avoid looking at him for the longest | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ev-pierce-writes · 3 years

Text

Doll

Pairing: Bucky Barnes (Winter Soldier) x F!Reader

Words: 7.7K

Rating: Very much 18+

Warnings: P in V, oral (fem receiving), light (consensual) choking, praise, James Buchanan Barnes is a sad boy and only you can make him happy, mutual therapy over past trauma, a couple light spanks, and some sexy sparring

Note: Reader had a run-in with Hydra that gave you invisibility powers. Bucky is tasked with training you. Totally not canon, I just kept the parts I liked. Got the idea from a tiktok but I can't find it anymore oops. I'm thinking of turning it into a series of all the places you can fuck Bucky Barnes at Avengers HQ. Enjoyyyyyy....

---

"Alright, so I'm thinking absolutely the first thing you need is a suit. Because we can't have you sneaking around in clothes that give you away."

Tony Stark and Peter Parker stand before you at Avengers HQ, furiously tossing ideas back and forth, trying to come up with ways to build you the best possible suit. Last night had been...interesting, to say the least.

"Who's that?" Stark had said when you appeared all of a sudden from your room. "Come on Agent Hill, don't tell me you're taking in lost kids nowadays."

Your mother had only laughed, slightly inebriated and feeling loose because of all the drinking that was going on in your penthouse apartment. She was hosting one of those parties where too many superpowers drank too much alcohol and got a little too rowdy. "That's my daughter."

Usually, you stay away from such events, go out with friends, and avoid the house until it's all over. For the past four years, you hadn't even been in the house to need to avoid it. But now you're 22 and a recent college graduate and something about the party was drawing you in so you had emerged from your hideaway to join in the fun.

"Alright, Maria, how'd you manage to keep that one a secret?" Romanov spoke up.

Until this point, you'd remained silent, in shock at the sudden attention a group of superheroes had focused onto you. But you couldn't help yourself from responding now. You'd managed to hide away long enough. It was time to come into the open.

"I'm a ghost," you said jokingly, approaching the couch and stealing the drink your mother had been drinking to take a sip. It was strong and burned on the way down. The group laughed at your words, unaware of how true they really were.

It was then that you'd performed your little trick, the one that only a few of your closest friends had ever seen. You became invisible.

The laughter had immediately stopped. The girl who suddenly appeared out of thin air had disappeared right back into it. They could still tell where you were of course. The glass in your hand remained visible, floating in mid-air, giving away your position. And your clothes were still perceptible, not being able to change with you. But your features were otherwise undetectable, not even a shimmer revealing your face. You took another sip of the drink, liquid disappearing into an invisible mouth.

"I want her. On the team," Stark had said.

And that was it. The start of your superhero career.

"Explain again exactly how this works?" Parker asks.

You sigh and start from the beginning, again. "I can distort the absorption wavelengths of my cells so that the reflected light is in the invisible range, usually infrared."

"And how long can you hold it for?"

"About seven minutes now," you explain. "It's sort of like holding your breath. You can go underwater for a while, and you can practice holding your breath longer and longer, but eventually, you need to come up for air. Eventually, I have to 'recharge.' But I've been working on extending it."

Stark turns to one of the many holograms of his supercomputer, working with Friday to design a brand new suit to accommodate your skills. You're so engrossed in watching his process you don't even notice the shadowy figure appear in the doorway that leads to the training facilities.

"How'd you get these powers? Agent Hill isn't lacking in skill but it certainly isn't supernatural."

You knew Stark's question would come up eventually. It always did. Over time, it became easier to tell the story, but now you really don't feel like explaining fully, so you tell the short version.

"Hydra. When I was seventeen. They used me as a bargaining chip against my mom in a mission gone wrong and decided to experiment on me in the process. Left me with a lot of scars and a lot of therapy. Almost dropped out of school."

You don't remember much from the experience. But enough for it to leave lasting damage.

"Hydra?" a familiar voice asks behind you. Only now do you notice that Barnes is behind you. How long has he been watching?

You remain silent, just like you did the night before when he'd arrived late to the party, unable to speak under his gaze.

You had planned to leave not long after you joined the festivities. But when the elevator doors opened, a pair of blue eyes halted you in your path. James Buchanan Barnes, the Winter Soldier. You'd recognize those eyes anywhere. Crystal clear and icy, freezing you under their gaze. He wore a leather jacket and leather gloves, concealing his metal arm, but you knew it was there, hiding behind the layers.

Barnes had always been the one that caught your eye during your mother's briefings. His transition from the greatest warrior Hydra had to offer, and thus S.H.I.E.L.D.'s greatest enemy, to the trusted companion of Captain America and official Avengers member intrigued you. At first, he had been more of a schoolgirl crush, the little girl grappling with her new powers seeking guidance in someone who didn't even know she existed. But age had not reduced your admiration of him. Barnes' face was hard set in serious determination and his glance barely grazed over you before turning to the rest of the group. He paid you not a single ounce of attention, yet you felt dumbstruck in his presence.

But Bucky had noticed you that night. Noticed you in a way he wanted desperately to hide, so he disallowed his eyes from lingering on you. Who were you and why were you wearing pajamas at a party and how did you make them actually look good?

And not only did he notice you, but he recognized you. He wasn't sure how, but something at the back of his head buried beneath decades of blurred half-memories told him he knew you. It was a stupid thought, though. How could he know you?

From the doorway, his eyes narrow in concern, making you feel smaller than ever beneath him. How is that 5 o'clock shadow so enticing? You just want to run your fingers across--

Stark gestures at Barnes, completely ignoring his comment. "Good, you're here. Our young Agent Hill needs to get started with her training immediately. I want her in the field but she can't be going in inexperienced. Teach her the works."

It's rather bold of Stark to assume you have no combat skills. And to assume you even want to go into the field. But you follow behind Barnes in silence anyway toward the training facilities. It doesn't matter what you know and don't know. He's going to kick your ass anyway.

"Feet wider," he says, coaching you on your swing. His blue eyes have somehow darkened, and along with the faint beard, he looks positively dangerous. "Not too wide."

"I know how to punch, Barnes," you whisper under your breath. He's not meant to hear your words, but he does anyway.

"Oh yeah? Punch me then. Go for it." His voice is challenging in the way that reveals he knows he could block any swing that comes at him. But he wants to see what will happen. Your mention of Hydra loosened a memory in his brain somewhere, and though he can't quite place his finger on it, the memory told him you're anything but the kid he's treating you like. He wants to know what you really have inside you.

Your annoyance gets the best of you. You aim for his face, the way your mother taught you. And she taught you well, teaching you all the self-defense skills you might need moving through the world as a woman. But she did not teach you how to fight super soldiers. That's an entirely different world.

Unsurprisingly, Barnes predicts your move and his metal arm comes up to meet your human one, halting your punch mid-swing. His palm fully engulfs your fist, your knuckles slamming into the metal with a ringing sound.

"Fuck, that hurt," you seethe through your teeth, gripping your hand in pain. And yet, you still smile. You mean for your words to sound irritated, but they betray how much you enjoy getting a swing in. "Didn't have to do me like that, Barnes."

He ignores your pain, though secretly it pleases him to find how much force is truly behind your punch. Nothing, of course, his metal arm can't take, but strong enough. "Language, kid. Go again. And this time, try not to be so obvious."

Despite his advice, it's impossible. He predicts every one of your strikes and counters them with four times as much strength as you possess. You give him everything you have, and nothing lands.

"This would be a lot easier if you let me use my powers."

So far, Barnes has refused to let you fight invisible, not that it would have done you much good without a proper suit. But you're tired and sweaty, your hair falling from its ponytail and sticking to your face, your muscles aching and your heart beating fast. Barnes hasn't even broken a sweat.

"Unless you learn to fight without your powers, they'll do nothing more than level the playing field. You need to be at an advantage if you're going to survive."

Survive. You've done plenty of that already. You want better than survival. Barnes recognizes the look on your face, the one that expresses the desire plainly. He knows the feeling, drifting from one day to the next and wanting more than that.

His voice softens a bit. "We can call it quits for the day. Get some rest. We'll go again tomorrow."

He didn't intend to be so kind. It just sort of happened, drawn out of him by the not-so-innocent girl who still has a lot to learn but can hold her own better than most.

---

Tomorrow. Tomorrow's8 like the day before, 9 am at HQ, wait for Parker to get his ass up the elevator so Stark can begin, get sidetracked by coffee, and then finally return to the task at hand.

"Give this a shot," Stark says, handing you what looks like nothing more than a vaguely human-shaped paper suit. "Not exactly protective, but it's a new technology. Should conform to your abilities."

"You did this overnight?"

"Of course. Get changed."

The suit has little support and definitely no protection. You feel like a fingernail could rip a hole through it if you pull on it wrong, let alone a knife coming at you from an angry enemy. But it's a start. An impressive start. You stare at yourself in the mirror of the bathroom as you shift, the suit shifting along with you.

Back in the training facilities, where you know Stark and Parker will be waiting, you remain in your shifted form. They don't look up as you enter, somehow having not heard you, and instead are engaged in a heated discussion with Barnes about something you don't understand. So you creep up behind Parker, lean in, and whisper into his ear.

"I think it works."

You feel a little bad, but only for a moment. Parker jumps straight out of his skin, screaming a scream you didn't know was possible from the kid. Stark lets out a laugh as you rematerialize, and Barnes even cracks a smile at your prank.

"Yeah, yeah, I'd say so." Parker's voice quivers.

"Well, what do you think?" Stark asks.

"Very thin," you say, aware that much more is visible than you really want. "I feel like it's going to rip at any moment. And there's not a whole lot of support in this area."

You gesture vaguely at your chest, not knowing how best to explain to a group of men that a sports bra is a necessity for fighting, but knowing you have to make them aware all the same. You can feel Barnes' eyes on you, a little less polite than the others, and you find you like the way he eyes you up, a bit like a puzzle to be solved or a strategy to be devised.

"Right, right, I'll get on that. Only a prototype anyway," Stark responds nervously. "Back to work, Parker. Hill, Barnes, back to training."

Bucky tries his best not to picture what you might look like without that suit, but it leaves little to the imagination as you saunter away to change again.

And so the days move forward. You've never before been so busy or exhausted in your life. You just graduated college, which is a feat in itself, but all the training, all the work, keeps you on your toes so that by the end of the day, both your brain and your body are tired.

Still, you improve and get better at sparring Barnes, even taking him down a couple of times on your own, though you suspect he's going easy on you.

"Again." Barnes is already on his feet and helping you to yours. Today the sparring room is particularly warm, and you've long forgone your sweats for shorts and a sports bra. Barnes has lost the shirt as well, and his chest glistens with sweat beneath the fluorescent lights. Maybe it's the heat or maybe it's him, but the whole thing feels a bit dreamlike. Here you are, sparring with a man who could take you to the ground with one arm alone, and he's letting you kick his ass every once in a while.

But there's no way you can do it again. You feel destroyed by all the slamming onto the mat.

Barnes is doing his best not to be distracted as well, but those tight shorts and the top that reveals your midriff have to be on purpose. It's easy to admit to himself that he likes you, might even be attracted to you. You fight hard and relentlessly, rising to every one of his challenges and not backing down even when you're tired. You've already come a long way since that first encounter, and Barnes has come to look forward to the two hours a day you spend together in the gym. He had tried to tell himself it was the fun of having a new sparring partner, but in truth, he knows it's the determined glint in your eyes, the way you bounce on your feet in excited anticipation of the fight, the way you collapse on the mat after a hard session, chest heaving deep breaths in and out. But what he likes most is your heated gaze when he pins you to the ground, or even better, you pin him.

"Knock me down one more time and you can be done," he challenges. The familiar determination returns, though a flicker of doubt remains behind your eyes. He can tell you need encouragement. "Remember to use your size to your advantage. Don't let me get ahead of you. Keep me guessing."

You do your best. You really do. You hold your own for almost two minutes, but it's obvious you're only barely staying ahead of him. As soon as you falter, Barnes has you flat on your back on the mat without much resistance, immobilized by a knee on your thighs and his metal arm trapping your hands over your head. His free hand plants by your head and holds him up to prevent him from actually hurting you.

You gasp underneath him, trying to disguise the weird flicker of desire with breathlessness. He looks good from down here, all sweaty and dark and serious. But you're also a bit too tired to care. "I'm out, Barnes. Let me go."

Let me go. Please.

And that's when the memory returns. The full, real memory, the one that has been tickling the edges of his brain since he first saw you. You, a kid, his mission. Kidnap, don't kill. A small voice, your voice, begging. Please, let me go. What has he done?

"Fuck," he curses under his breath, standing up quickly.

"Language, Barnes," you say teasingly. But he doesn't laugh, simply exits the sparring room, abruptly leaving you, speechless and alone on the floor. What just happened?

After a moment of confused silence on the mat, you brush it off and stand, heading to your room for a shower. Stark offered you a place to stay at HQ, and you happily agreed. Though you loved being back with your mother after four years away at college, you cherish your independence. A room at HQ offered you just that.

A nice shower would certainly make you feel better after that confusing interaction. You pull on your robe and shower shoes, leaving your clothes behind so as to carry one less thing. But as you pass down the hall toward the showers, you can hear Barnes' voice drift through the slightly open door to his room.

"I remembered," he says. "It was her. I'm the reason she's--" He cuts off, appearing to be interrupted by whoever he's talking to on the phone. You pause by the open door.

"I know that's not me anymore but I'm still responsible," he continues. "I have to tell her."

Again a pause. By now it's apparent he's talking about you.

"No, Steve, we aren't a team. We aren't partners. I'm helping Tony out. I don't care if she doesn't want to work with me anymore, this is part of my redemption. I have to tell her."

The conversation seems over. You rush to the showers, not wanting Barnes to realize you were listening the whole time. Apologize, he said. Apologize for what? You've known him for a whole of four days and he's been nothing but polite to you. Cold, at first, but he warms upon acquaintance. And then he's downright sweet.

So sweet, you realize, for someone so damaged. He has every right to hate the world, and though he walks through it with a healthy dose of cynicism, he never lets that cynicism touch you. If anything, he's outright positive around you, an undeserving brat. A kid, really, though you don't like when he calls you that. You know you can be naive, positive on the verge of artificiality, and yet he never tries to burst your bubble. In fact, he seems to relish it.

The shower feels nice, but it does nothing to assuage your fears. Maybe it's you who has done something wrong? Now you're spiraling. You have to find out what's going on or it's going to drive you crazy.

You know what you have to do. You have just about seven minutes of invisibility before your shifting gives out. In those seven minutes, you can duck from the showers, sneak into Barnes' room, snoop around, and make it back to the showers unseen. Plenty of time. But you have to go nude. Now would be a great time for the suit, but no such luck. Naked it is.

Out in the hallway, all is quiet. Barnes' door is still ajar, but when you peek your head in, the room is empty.

Easy.

Where to start? His phone is a dead end, being one of those ancient flipping kinds rather than a new, high-tech smartphone. He has few personal belongings, the bed is made perfectly, and his closet contains only clothes.

The drawers of the nightstand are empty. Or nearly empty. At the back of the top drawer is unceremoniously shoved a small booklet with a pen stuck between the pages. It's worn and supple, as though held a thousand times and read a thousand more. You flip through, finding a list of names, some crossed out, others not. Your name does not appear, but something about the list tells you these are not ordinary names. These are the names of his victims, people Barnes hurt as the Winter Soldier. Your heart aches and your stomach clenches, the reminder of his past jarring against the kind demeanor you've come to know. But deep down, you know this isn't him, know he's a good man, despite it all.

You know better than most the first-hand horrors of Hydra's super-soldier experiments. Of anyone, you can relate best to the experience Barnes has been through. Your memories of that long week are blurry, but the pain remains, forever seared into your mind. You can only imagine a lifetime of that pain.

The sound of the door opening jolts you from your reverie and you close the drawer quickly. But you soon realize your mistake. Barnes would know he left the door open, would know exactly how he placed his book in the drawer, would recognize something was off. Unfortunately, you're right.

"Hello?" he calls into the darkening room. The evening is coming on fast and the sun dims to barely glimmer, casting the space in shadow despite the large windows on the south wall.

Bucky knows something is off the moment he finds your room unoccupied, having gone there with the express purpose of confronting you about his actions earlier in the afternoon. And though he has no way of truly knowing, he suspects you are now here, in this room with him, invisible to his gaze. Bucky shuts the door behind him and waits.

You're trapped. You don't have long before your powers give out; already the suffocating feeling that begs you to take a breath is coming on. And Barnes has closed the door, effectively sealing you in, as you can't open it without him knowing for sure that you're here. On top of that, you're clothingless. You've run out of options and Barnes seems to sense this. So, he waits, drawing out the moment of tension, building the suspense.

"I know you're here," he says finally, his voice soft and barely audible. "You can't hide that well. Next time, dry your feet off before you go leaving wet footprints all over the place."

Oops.

"I--" you begin, and immediately Barnes' eyes snap to where your voice originates from. "I'm sorry. I overheard your conversation with Rogers. I shouldn't have but I know it was about me."

Barnes sighs, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Yeah, you're right. I have some things to explain. Though I'd much prefer talking to you if I could see you."

You hesitate. "Only a slight problem there. I'm not wearing any clothes."

If it had been any lighter in the room you would have seen Barnes blush. Instead, you watch him pull his shirt over his head. He hands it to you blindly, the shirt off his own back, soft with wear and long enough to cover the tops of your thighs. It smells of him, salty with sweat and sweet with the scent you've come to recognize only as him. You shrug it on and shift back.

"I'm sorry," you say again, having trouble concentrating with Barnes' bare chest at your eye level. Is that an old bullet wound on his shoulder? The reminder of a knife across his stomach? You can't look away, even at the seam where man meets metal.

Barnes shakes his head. "No, I should be the one apologizing."

He pauses for a moment and tries to begin several times before finally forming a complete sentence.

"It's my fault you're like this, that Hydra tested on you. It was me who kidnapped you, it was me who followed orders, it was me who completed the mission and got you hurt. And I'm so sorry."

You're so frozen in shock that the absurdity of the situation doesn't even register. There's nothing under this shirt, no underwear, no pants, no bra. And here you are standing in the bedroom of your greatest inspiration, listening to him apologize for being the one that facilitated your kidnapping, for being responsible for all the injury, the pain, the nightmares, the isolation, the...

It all comes flooding back, the things you had forgotten, or simply chose to not remember, and one of those things is his face.

You thought you'd dealt with impact. So many hours with a therapist, and you realize all you did was suppress the feelings, not confront them. And then you break, all the anger and sadness and frustration flowing from you at once.

"You piece of shit." Your voice begins as a whisper but soon amplifies nearly to a shout. "You monster, you bastard, how could you? How could you?"

All this time you forgave him for the damage he'd done, excused it as brainwashing and manipulation from Hydra. But now that it's you he's involved, you have somewhere to direct your anger, and you take it out as a shove straight to his chest.

He didn't expect that one. The words he understood. He accepted those, accepted that you would hate him forever. But then you're pushing and hitting him with all your force. Barnes could fight back, could hold his ground. But you need this, so he lets you shove him into the wall with a newfound strength. Finally against the wall, with nowhere left to go, you turn to pummelling his chest with your fists, repeating the words over and over, how could you, how could you, how could you.

For a moment, he lets it happen. But eventually, Barnes reacts, grabbing your wrists and holding them to his chest in an attempt to calm the fury that rages inside you. Surprisingly, at his touch, you still, slumping against him once the anger is replaced with nothing but sadness. That anger, one you never truly realized you'd harbored since your capture, bled from you all at once, leaving you exhausted.

You don't notice you're crying until a soft thumb wipes a tear from your cheek. Barnes releases your hands and wraps his arms around your sobbing body, pulling you close. "I'm so sorry," he repeats in your ear, his words a whisper against the rage inside your head.

Is it hours, or only minutes, standing like that, wrapped up in him, his skin so soft against your cheek? Time has ceased to exist, melting into the nighttime that encompasses the room in near pitch-black darkness. Your breath calms, your heart rate slows, the tears dry. He's only a man, a broken, misplaced, lost man. But he's also impossibly kind to you, caring enough to train you day after day, to pick you up when you fall down, to ensure you're happy here at all times. That's the man you know and rest your cheek against and seek out for comfort in this moment, despite him being the reason for your anger. But he's not truly the reason for your anger, only an easy outlet standing right before you.

This is not how Bucky had expected this to go. Perhaps to never see you again, yes. But to hold you in his arms, certainly not. And not just hold you, but comfort you. It surprises him how much he finds he likes it. And he can't ignore the fact that you're here in his room, wearing his shirt and only his shirt. He doesn't try anything improprietous, just wraps his arms around your waist, but it's not lost on him that your supple chest is pressed against him and the delicious scent from your still wet hair is filling his brain with a flowery cloud. His stomach clenches at the thought of burying his face in that smell for the rest of the night but he pushes it aside. That's not why you're here. That's not what you want.

But your next words surprise him. You pull slightly away, tilting your splotchy face upward towards his to look him in the eye. You take a ragged breath and speak.

"I forgive you."

Bucky is taken aback. That's not why he made this confession, not to seek your forgiveness. "You don't have to do that."

"I know. But I do. And I know you think I'm just a kid--"

Barnes lets out a short laugh, cutting you off immediately. "Jesus Christ, that's not true. You're not a kid. You're smart and strong and capable. And you've seen the ugly world for its true self and choose to remain good and happy all the same. I'm not like that and that makes you wiser than I'll ever be."

He takes a deep breath, unsure if he should admit to the feelings he desperately wants to express to you. The way you're looking at him, with a mixture of hesitation and admiration, makes the words tumble from his mouth without a second thought.

"But somehow being around you makes me want to be good again. Not for my sake, but for yours."

"James, I--" You've never used his first name before, but it falls deliciously from your lips, the sound of it nearly distracting him from the finger you run across the stubble on the cleft of his chin. Nearly. He captures that hand in his own, holding it there against his face.

"You don't have to forgive me. I don't deserve it," he repeats, eyes falling shut to the feeling of your thumb pressed to the corner of his lips. He still holds you close, the other arm wrapping tight around you, and though verbally he rejected the comfort your warmth offered, his body says otherwise, desperate for the acceptance his brain refuses to give into.

"Stop punishing yourself," you whisper. For a moment, he almost feels that he could.

And when your lips find his, soft and delicate, he forgets why you're even here in the first place, forgets his guilt and your anger, forgets even to react.

His lack of response has you pulling away, worried you've done something wrong, but then he's chasing your lips with his own, leaning forward to meet you halfway, gathering you impossibly tighter to his chest. He pauses, mouth mere centimeters from yours, eyes still shut, a deep breath heaving from his chest. He wants more, wants to kiss you again in all the places that count, but he can't quite yet.

"What was that for?" The question's not an accusatory one but simply curious. Have you always looked at him in this light since day one? Has he just not noticed?

"Are you blind, Barnes?"

He laughs and shakes his head. "None of that last name shit, doll, we've moved on to a first-name basis."

But your words are enough to surge him forward, this time capturing your lips in a dominating kiss that leaves you gasping for air. He takes advantage of your open mouth and presses his tongue to yours, seeking to fill his soul with your all-consuming warmth, to wrap it around him like a cocoon of your scent. His fingers slide down your back and slip under the shirt you wear, his shirt, grasping at the bare skin of your ass, filling his hands with your supple flesh.

You moan softly under his touch, relishing in the feeling of being encompassed by someone so large and so strong. The vibranium arm, which you expected to be harshly indelicate against your relative fragility, caresses you with the same gentility of the other. The intense contact sends your heart racing like it did all the times you were pinned below him on the sparring mat. Will he pin you like that in bed? Hold you down while he fucks you within an inch of your life?

The thought rouses a heat between your legs and stirs butterflies in your tummy. You don't even know if that's where this is going, but it invades your brain anyways. You're sure Barnes can feel your racing pulse beneath his lips when he kisses your neck, sending your nerves haywire as he creeps toward the neckline of your shirt. He inhales your scent, the hot air of his breath fanning your cool skin.

Everything about this is sloppy, the wet kisses dragged across your skin, his tongue tangled with yours, your fingers tugging at the hair that brushes the nape of his neck. Even his hips against yours are messy and rough, the heat of him leaving your core feeling slick, the wetness of it rubbing between your naked thighs. And then Barnes is sliding his hands back up your body, this time under your shirt, and tugging it over your head, his lips leaving your skin just long enough to toss the item to the ground.

You expect him to keep surging forward, to lift you in his arms and take you to bed like you want him to. But he pauses instead, hands cradling the back of your head, his eyes staring intensely into yours. Or you think he's staring into your eyes.

"Are you okay? Is this okay?" His voice is full of concern but raspy with arousal all the same.

"Yes, James, yes, I need more."

"Well, I would, it's just that you've disappeared on me again." One look at your hands and you know he was looking right through you, not at you. The swirl of emotions--pleasure, arousal, timidity even--sent you shifting without your knowledge. You can't help but laugh.

"Let me see you, doll," he groans, sounding exasperated that he can't rake his gaze across your naked flesh or find all the places he wants to touch you because they're invisible.

"You first."

A heated understanding lights up his eyes, still vibrant in the darkness of the room. Slowly, he releases his grip on you, relenting to not knowing where you are in space. You take an invisible step back to get a better view of the specimen before you. With one hand, he unbuckles his belt, sliding the leather from his pants and dropping it to the floor with a thunk. And then his pants are gone and he's left in his boxers, tight against the bulging muscles of his thighs.

And other bulging things. He doesn't hide his attraction to you. But still, you do not reappear.

Bucky begins to worry you're never going to, that maybe he's taken things too for. But then, a soft finger trails across his neck and he jerks in surprise. You're tracing the plain of his chest with a feather-light touch, dipping into the indent between his collarbones, feeling along the puckered scar of a bullet wound and the long slice of a knife. He feels healed beneath your touch, but it's not enough to satisfy the insatiable hunger building in the tightness of his groin. This entire evening has been a long, drawn-out, build-up of tension, and if he doesn't release it soon, it will snap like an overstretched rubber band.

He makes his move.

Apparently, Bucky's senses are just as perceptive here as they are on the sparring mat. His metal hand shoots up and wraps around the wrist of the hand on his chest, despite being unable to see it. The other reaches out and grapples at your invisible body in the dark, somehow finding your waist. He doesn't need to see you to manage to flip you around and press your back against his chest. In your surprise, your invisibility falters, and you flicker out of your shifted form with a flustered squeak, one hand suddenly pinned between your back and Bucky's rock-hard chest.

He holds on with an iron grip and walks you toward the bed, holding you up to prevent you from tripping in your ruffled state.

"You're taking too long, doll," he mumbles into your ear, and you feel his chest rumble with the vibrations. Your free hand flies to the one around your waist, which is slowly creeping upward toward your breast to twist at the sensitive nipple. "I know you like it when I pin you on the sparring floor. I can see it in your eyes. I'll take you like that right now if you give me the word."

Fuck, you want nothing more but you can't breathe enough to get the words out, opting for nodding vigorously instead. But Bucky wants words, gently prodding you forward to get a verbal commitment out of you. He will never take you against your will again. So you manage a long, drawn-out please and suddenly you're face-first in the sheets, bent halfway at the waist, your ass grinding against the delicious bulge pressed against your aching cunt. It pleases you that he has been thinking the same wicked thoughts as you when he slams you to the mat over and over again in training.

Bucky pulls your arm out from underneath you, joining it with the other and holding them together with his metal fist at your lower back, forcing your chest further into the mattress and your ass higher in the air. There's no way for you to move, no matter how hard you try. But you don't try, won't try. Bucky has you right where you want to be.

"Tell me if it's too much," he murmurs in your ear and you breathe an affirmation. His teeth nibble suddenly at your ear lobe and you squirm, the sensation of his breath fanning your skin sending goosebumps along the trail of kisses he leaves down your spine. Somehow, you know this is only the calm before the storm, the gentle caresses of a man who's about to rearrange every organ in your body, all the way up to your heart if you aren't careful.

It doesn't matter to you that it's pitch black in the room; you wouldn't have been able to see anything with your face shoved into the comforter, even if the lights were on. But Bucky's starting to regret having left the lights off, wishing he could better see the curve of your hips, the swell of your thighs, or the bloom of his handprint on your ass when his hand comes down with a smack. He resigns to being satisfied by the mewling gasp that escapes your lips and your soft pleas to Do it again, harder.

So he does. Smack.

And then he's sinking to his knees and you can tell because he leaves a wet stripe of skin with his tongue over the globe of your ass and blows a shock of cool air across the rawness of your skin. He replaces the sting of his hand with the bite of his teeth and then a kiss to soothe you again. The rollercoaster of sensations has you moaning against the mattress and rocking your hips toward his face and Barnes chuckles at your movement, your actions giving away the desperation you feel to have his tongue move to more sensitive places.

He is happy to oblige. You hadn't even noticed you'd been squeezing your thighs together until he slid a hand up between them, forcing them apart. It's a blessing your legs aren't doing any work to keep you up anymore because they feel like jelly under his touch. The hand between your thighs moves higher still until you feel his thumb pressed to your sensitive clit, warm and twitching with anticipation, desire coursing through your veins and dripping from your wet cunt. Your ears barely register that he's speaking, the blood is pumping so hard in your ears, but his words are exalting.

"Look at you, so wet for me." The hand around your wrists tightens just slightly. You are surprised by the extreme control he has over the cool metal fingers, and you almost wish he'd use those on you instead. And then he says, "you like it, don't you, doll, being at my mercy," and you forget all about the arm and decide it doesn't matter what hand presses down with a gentle strength on your clit as long as he doesn't stop. And he doesn't. Doesn't move, doesn't flinch or twitch or falter, just holds steady until your gasping mewls die down just enough for you to say, "yes, all for you, all for you, all..."

With those words, his thumb slips, between your slick folds into your pussy, finding the soft spongy flesh and pressing down again and you cry out with a careening moan that tapers off into a silent sob. He's taking his time, picking you apart, pulling at the laces that bind you together, and undoing them to release the tension he knows you harbor. But what about him? Is it not torture for him?

You breathe in a rough gasp, enough to squeak out a few more words. "I thought we were going too slow for you."

He laughs, he actually laughs, at your words, but relents.

"I hear you, doll."

I hear you. Oh wow. His tongue replaces his finger and you lose all coherence, able only to blubber some iteration of his name as the smooth muscle traces circles around your clit, finally allowing your orgasm to build with a steady contraction in your pelvis. Barnes moans between your legs like he's never tasted chocolate or buttercream or any of those other wondrous flavors and there's only you. And that moan sends you overboard, the vibrations diffusing down your legs and you tremble into your first orgasm. Your first orgasm.

He keeps going, riding out the waves of your high until you're crying that it's too much, James, too much and he pulls his tongue away from your oversensitized clit only to move down your legs. He's working you up again, teasing the smooth skin of your inner thigh with gentle nips and kisses until your body is craving release again, your cunt clenching around nothing but the memory of his mouth. He is deliberate in his ministrations, methodical in the way he must be with his missions. The flood of your first orgasm has dripped steadily down your thigh and he cleans you with his tongue, dragging upward along the sticky trail of your musky release until his tongue makes contact again and he pulls an orgasm from your desperate body once more.

He still hasn't released your arms.

"You know how long I've wanted to do this?" he groans, as you shudder again into the pleasure of his touch. He kisses back up the length of your spine while you twitch under him, his free hand dragging shock wave after shock wave from your cunt. It strikes you that this man is truly 106, not 26 like his body suggests, and you absentmindedly wonder if that's why he's so good at it, that he's had years to practice. And then his cock is pressing against your folds and you forget the notion halfway through thinking it. "You're so good to me doll, so good for opening up for me. Wanna feel your tight pussy around me."

You push backward, or do your best to without the employment of your arms, wanting desperately to feel him inside you. He is warm and all-encompassing and part of you thinks his cock spilling his seed inside of you would complete you like nothing else. But you know that's a bad idea and you can hear him already unwrapping a condom (where did he get that from?) and your body trembles with the anticipation. You haven't even seen him yet but you know he must be big, the way he grunts when the tip of his erection teases your entrance.

When he enters you it isn't gentle like the stroke of his tongue. It splits you open with a rough thrust, the laces of your heart fully undone and releasing you from their confinement. You choke on your own air.

And then he's releasing your arms, and before you can react, Barnes has you lifted, your back to his chest, your knees shoved roughly into the mattress so he can stand and fuck you from behind. The metal arm finds your neck and forces your head back, his lips dragging hot against your soft skin and muttering filthy praise into your ear, his hand gently on your throat to hold you there. Your hands fly to his, not to pull him away, but to convince him to squeeze, just a little bit harder. The pressure is grounding, and then the hand around your waist is trailing toward the bud of your clit and rubbing in urgent circles and you let out a silent gasp as he thrusts into you at a pace astounding for the position you're in.

You come hard, over his hand, around his cock, and for the first time Barnes falters, stunned by the intensity with which you clamp around him and if he hadn't made you come two times already he might have held out a bit longer to pull another one of those stunning orgasms from your slick cunt. But you're sagging, using him to hold you up against the exhaustion of repeated abuse so he releases, riding the wave of pleasure you started. Bucky groans out your name, surprising you with the gentleness of it on his tongue despite the rough hand around your neck.

When he releases you softly back onto the bed, you sink heavily into the mattress, feeling high on pleasure and drunk on his hands. He pulls away and shuffles around the room, and if you had had any energy left you might have complained at the loss of him but as it sits nothing will rouse you from the intense desire to simply fall asleep.

He continues to move about and then... the lights go on? You groan at the harsh treatment of your eyes as they adjust. But Barnes returns and pulls you against him and apologizes for the rude awakening.

"Sorry, doll," he mutters. "Wanted to get a better look at you." His fingers glide along your back and his face nuzzles into the top of your head, breathing into your hair as you press your forehead into his chest. Despite being exhausted himself he trails his hands all over your body, exploring the side of you that has been shoved into the sheets for the better part of the evening. You let him, although your nerves feel fried and oversensitive to touch.

"Watch what you do with those hands," you giggle as his fingertips brush over a nipple, "unless you're ready to go again."

"Already looking forward to next time?"

"You wish," you tease, but already you know for certain that there will be a next time.

#bucky barns x reader #bucky barnes #winter solider fanfiction #bucky barnes smut #winter solider smut #definitely not canon #i refuse to believe steve went back in time for some 1940s kitty kat and left his best friend behind #tony and nat are alive bc they are the only truly valuable characters #sebastian stan #also youre the daughter of agent hill #bucky fanfic #bucky x reader #winter soldier #wEiNeR sOlDiEr

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1-800-gaygentsofshield · 3 years

Text

five more minutes | n.r.

summary: Soulmates cursed to never be together, each life always longing for a love that they've never met..or so they think.

warnings: temporary character deaths, reincarnation?, violence, self-sacrifice, angst with a happy ending, implied sexual content, language

based off of Billie Eilish's cover of "the end of the fucking world" originally produced by Rob Dickinson

one life is based on the film “underwater” by William Eubank

word count: 8,344

---- = separate life

/ = a skip in time, same life

Your chest is heaving as you pry open the door to the last safe house in the city, everything turning to hell ever since the “End of the World” started happening. Smoldering flakes of ash were falling from the sky and the bombs were getting set off every few minutes, absolute mayhem engulfing the world around you. This safe house was located on the city's outskirts, technically not disaster-proof but far away enough to be human-proof from the rest of the world.

You belong to one of the major power families that run your district, your father and mother getting killed earlier this morning because of it. The y/l/n's have always been feuding with the other families in control, everyone always hungry for power and willing to do anything to let their family have it.

Stepping inside the house, your boots creak on the wood, the door slowly closing behind you. Your gun feels heavy on your waist as you cautiously take a few steps forward, listening for any signs that someone else might be in the safe house with you.

You hear another creek of the floorboards and in one swift motion, you pull out your gun, keeping your finger resting on the trigger. You move quietly to the kitchen where the noise came from, arm raised and aimed forward. Almost simultaneously, both of you sidestep and see each other, the corners of your lips twitching up as you see Natalia in all her glory. "Y/n." Natasha greets curtly and you nod your head, both of you aiming guns at one another. "Natalia." You say in the same tone before the ground shakes, rattling the house. "Running away like always?" Nat taunts and your eyes quickly scan over her features, taking in the disheveled and tired look on her face.

"You were here first." You comment and she rolls her eyes, adjusting the grip on her gun. "I'm gonna have to kill you now, huh?" She says and you quirk an eyebrow, still on edge as you watch her body language. "Do you really want to kill me? Or does your family just want to?" You ask and her eyebrows furrow, you not wanting to deal with this stupid family feud while the world is ending around you. When the redhead doesn't answer, you shake your head, a breathy laugh escaping your lips as you look at Natalia. "What happened to us, Nat? We used to be so close." You say and Nat sighs, glancing down at her gun before making eye contact with you. "Family happened Y/n. Families got greedy for power and we got dragged into it. A Romanova couldn't be associated with a y/l/n, could it?" She says and you purse your lips together, eyebrows furrowing slightly as you make a decision.

"I don't want to spend my last few moments on earth fighting you, Talia." You say as you slowly lower your gun, Natasha's shoulders relaxing slightly at the action. "What are you saying, Y/n?" Nat asks and you look at your childhood best friend with a certain desperation in your eyes. "I'm asking you to put our family feuds aside, just this once." You pause briefly before speaking. "I don't want to be alone when the world ends." You say softly and Nat contemplates your offer, only taking a few moments to make up her mind. Natalia nods her head and slowly puts the gun down, giving you a soft "okay" as she looks at you. You nod your head and echo her statement, whispering a soft "okay." before holstering your gun.

You’re sitting on the front porch as you watch the world around you fall apart, sipping on some old beer you found in the fridge. The soft opening of the front door causes your head to turn, seeing Natalia step onto the porch with a cigarette in hand.

You’ve been listening to the radio for the past hour, hearing the news cover the chaos as you sit there with the wind blowing in your face.

Natalia doesn't say anything as slowly moves to sit down beside you, wordlessly offering you a hit of her cigarette. You shake your head and hold up your beer in a similar fashion, Nat shaking her head as well. The rustling of the grass and the crackling radio are the only things heard as you both look forward, Nat placing the cigarette between her lips and you taking a swig of your beer.

Tentatively, you place your head on Natalia's shoulder, trying to see how the other woman would react. You feel Nat tense up at your action and you internally panic, thinking that you stepped over a line. Sure, you could've done that when you both were little..but now you're all grown up, times have changed. You're about to pull away when Nat wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to her as she relaxes. There are no words exchanged as you lean into her side, Nat taking one last drag of her cigarette before tossing it on the ground. Crushing the nub with her boot, she makes sure it's exterminated, not wanting to start a fire (not like it matters though). You both sit there in a comfortable silence afterward, the radio droning on and on about how horrible the world is.

After a while, you decide to break the silence, still keeping your head on Nat's shoulder. "I love you, Talia." You say softly, feeling the warmth radiating off of the other woman. "What did you say?" She asks and your head turns slightly to look at her, trying to read her expression. "I love you, Talia." You repeat, lowering your head back down to her shoulder once you've made eye contact. "Always have, always will." You finish and wait for Natalia's response, wanting to see if she pulls away or not. Nat is quiet for a second before you feel her arm tightening around your waist, her head turning to kiss your temple softly. "I love you too, Y/n." She whispers, closing her eyes as she leaves her lips there. "I'm sorry that we drifted apart." Nat mumbles against your skin and you place your hand on her knee, rubbing your thumb in a small circle. "I'm sorry too." You say, planes flying overhead. "I've never hated you, you know. I just didn't want to disappoint my parents." Nat says and you nod your head, looking up at her and smiling softly. "I know Nat. I know." You say, bringing your hand up and gently brushing your fingertips along her jawline. Natalia leans into the touch and looks down at you, watching the way you look at her with such care that she hasn't seen in a while.

Your fingertips move down and you run your thumb over Nat's bottom lip, glancing into her eyes one more time before leaning up. You kiss Natalia delicately as she kisses back, eyes fluttering closed as her free hand cups your jaw.

Are you kissing her because it's the end of the world, or are you kissing her because you've been in love with your best friend ever since you were five? Either way, you're kissing her and my god her lips are soft.

You both pull away gently as you look at each other, sadness and regret in both of your eyes. Besides you, the radio continues to. crackle out the news.

...nuclear warhead..five minutes..seek shelter immediately..

Your breath catches in your throat and your heart rate speeds up, panic filling your chest as Natalia simply reaches over and shuts the radio off. “Shh hey, it’s gonna be okay.” Nat whispers as she pulls you closer to her chest. “I don’t want to die Talia.” You whisper as you cling onto the redhead, head burying into her neck and arms wrapping around her torso. “Five more minutes.” Nat repeats the phrase on the radio and you nod your head, taking in her scent. “Five more minutes.” You echo her as she hugs you tighter, both of you knowing that there isn’t enough time to escape. You’ve spent your whole lives avoiding and hating each other, so why continue doing it now.

“I wish we had more time.” You whisper and she nods her head, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Maybe in another life.” She whispers and you can only nod, sighing softly before leaning in to kiss her again.

And for those five minutes, Natalia just holds you, placing gentle kisses on your crown and repeating how much she loves you over and over again. “I’ll find you in the next life, and if not in that then in the next one after.” Nat promises and you nod your head, knowing your five minutes are about to be up. “I love you Talia.” You whisper as you close your eyes, holding onto her as tight as you possibly can. “I love you too, Y/n.” Nat whispers before resting her head on top of yours, closing her eyes as the warhead hits and a bright light surrounds the two of you.

----

"Car crash, 24 year old female, 35 year old male, falling in and out of consciousness." The radio dispatch lists off the information as the ambulance arrives at the scene, Natasha immediately jumping out of the back along with Steve. "I've got the girl, get the other car." Natasha orders and Steve nods his head, both paramedics heading separate ways. Natasha's eyes scan the scene as she sees a red car completely flipped upside down, running her way over there as she sees a bloody hand reaching out. "Please..help.." Nat hears a soft whimper as she drops down onto her knees, looking inside the car to try and assess the damage. Nat barely reacts as she sees you trapped by your seatbelt, trying to calm your breathing as blood pools on the roof of the car. "Hi my name is Natasha, I'm a paramedic and I'm here to help you." Nat introduces herself and you try and look at her, hands shaking as you grip at your cut. "Can you tell me what your name is darling?" She continues as she immediately gets to work, the car door already being ripped off in the crash. "I-I'm Y/n. Y/l/n..Y/f/n (your full name)." You say shakily, Natasha looking at your injuries. "Okay, Y/n. I'm gonna get you out of here, I just need you to keep on talking. Can you do that for me?" She asks and you nod your head, starting to talk about whatever comes to mind. "I- uhm I was born in (your home state or country), moved away from my mom and dad as soon as I could." You laugh softly at the statement before you wince, feeling Natasha put pressure on your wound. "Fuck." You hiss out and Nat whispers a soft "Sorry" before continuing. She shouldn't need to apologize, she was doing her job after all, but she had an odd desire to comfort you even when you were kinda bleeding out"It's okay.." You say before continuing, your vision focusing and unfocusing. "Uhm..I have a dog and my brother is gonna graduate in a few weeks. And I'm so fucking proud of him, I never told him how proud of him I was but I'm so fucking proud of him." You ramble and you don't notice Nat's eyes widen, seeing that if she moves you you'll bleed out within a minute. "An-And I've never found love, just fucking douchebags that I wasted my life on and now I'm gonna die without finding my person and I don't wanna die Nat..I don't wanna die." You choke out as you close your eyes, wanting this nightmare to be over already as a wave of deja vu washes over Natasha. "Hey okay look at me, look at me Y/n." Nat says as she gently cups your cheek, watching as your eyes slowly open. "Keep your eyes on me, okay? You've gotta stay conscious. You think you can do that for me?" She asks and you lean into her touch, mumbling something incomprehensible. "Can you repeat that for me, baby?" Nat asks and your head lolls down a bit, feeling lightheaded as Natasha tries to keep you awake. "Mmhm..should be easy..you're very pretty." You mumble out and Nat smiles softly, ready to get you out of the car. "Okay, my partner and I are going to move you but I want you to keep your eyes on me, don't look anywhere else." She says as Steve comes over to the two of you, already taking care of the male in the other car. "Severe lacerations to her torso and blunt force trauma to her temple. Seatbelt's keeping her in place." Nat gives Steve a brief rundown and he nods his head, lowering the stretcher onto the ground as Nat secures your neck in place. "Just to be safe." She says and you hum softly, their words muffled as they move in slow motion. "Okay we're going to move you on one..two..three.." Almost as if they were in synch, Steve and Nat get you out of the vehicle, Steve getting you secured onto the stretcher while Nat tries to keep you from bleeding out. "Start talking Y/n, I need to hear you talking." Natasha says as your blood soaks through the gauze, pooling under her gloved hands. Incomprehensible mumbles fall past your lips as you try and stay conscious, your entire body feeling numb to the pain. A soft whimper of discomfort is the last thing that you say before you fall quiet, Nat looking at you concerned. "Come on baby you

need to keep on talking." Natasha encourages you gently before nodding at Steve, both of them working quickly to get you into the ambulance. "Tell my parents that I love them..and tell my shithead of a boyfriend to go to hell." You manage to get out and Nat laughs softly, helping Steve lift the stretcher into the ambulance. "Who else do you want me to tell?" She asks once she hops into the back of the ambulance with you, Steve shutting the doors and telling the driver to step on it. "Tell my brother that I'm proud of him..and tell the other driver that I don't blame him.." You start to list as the lights start to get too bright, causing you to squint to try and look at Natasha. You swallow dryly as you can feel the life draining out of you, causing you to hold your hand up to the redheaded paramedic. "Nat, can you do something for me?" You ask weakly and she nods her head, Steve taking over putting pressure on your wound. "Yeah, what is it darling?" Nat asks softly as she changes out her gloves, swapping them for a new pair before leaning down to look at you. "Can you- Can you take my ring?" You ask and confusion floods her face, Nat looking down at the simple band on your pointer finger. "I dont-" She starts but you shake your head, wincing at the pain that it caused you. "Please..I- It might just be the blood loss talking but I feel like I've met you..probably in another life or something like that." You say and wait for her reaction, seeing her stare at you for a few beats. "I know, it's crazy but-" You start but she shakes her head, grabbing onto your hand and squeezing it lightly. "No I get it. You aren't crazy." She says softly and you smile meekly at that, slowly taking off your ring and putting it in her hand. "Then keep it." You whisper and she nods her head, looking at the ring in her gloved hand. "Okay." She says and you smile, finally feeling whole for once in your life despite all the blood you've lost. The fight finally leaves your body as your eyes close, your hand falling limp against the stretcher.

"Shit she's coding." Steve hisses out and Nat's head snaps upwards, shoving the ring into her pocket as she jumps into action. Steve immediately starts compressions as Nat works on your breathing, securing the mask on your face as she pumps the bag. Steve barks out orders over the radio as Nat stands by your head, eyebrows furrowed as she watches you.

"Come on Y/n stay with me, just five more minutes to the hospital." Nat says under her breath as the ambulance races through traffic.

"Hold on for five more minutes." She continues as Steve does his compressions, trying to manually restart your heart.

"Please..just five more minutes." Nat whispers under her breath as another PMD puts a defibrillator on your chest, trying to check for a shockable pulse.

After a trail of CPR, advanced airway, and cardiotonic drugs, Steve finally makes the call.

"Call it." He says to Natasha and she shakes her head, not giving up that hope that you could still be resuscitated. "She's gone." Steve states and Nat shakes her head once again, looking at your still form. "No Steve we can't-" "Tasha she's gone. You have to call it." He says sternly and it shuts Nat up, sighing as she looks at her watch. "Time of death, 9:52 pm." She says as the other PMD covers up your body with a sheet, only a few minutes later the ambulance pulling up into the hospital.

Nat sits in the back of the open ambulance as she watches the hospital staff go by, Steve coming to sit by her. "You alright?" He asks and Nat nods her head, blinking back tears as she looks at your ring. "Yeah..Yeah I'm fine." She says before closing her hand, turning her head to look at Steve. "But she was right, I really feel like I've met her before." Nat says and Steve nods his head, putting a reassuring hand on her back. "Maybe in another life."

----

"The drill is working smoothly sir." You report to the Capitan over the intercoms, the screens showing an all-clear in front of you. "Thank you, sailor." His voice crackles over the coms and you nod your head, pressing back the button to send a reply. "Of course, sir." You say before standing up straight, checking the pressure regulation and structural integrity one last time.

It's a must to make sure everything is working smoothly down here, after all, one mistake and the entire drill could be crushed seven miles below the surface of the ocean. "Hey, sailor." Natasha's arms wrap around your waist as she hugs you from behind, moving your ponytail aside to kiss the back of your neck. "Hi baby." You say as you lean back into her touch, eyes closing as you feel Nat's lips on your neck. "Capitan gave you the all-clear?" She asks and you nod your heads, humming at the warmth of your girlfriend's embrace.

It's lonely working on a research/drilling facility seven miles down and being isolated for months at a time, but with Natasha here, it makes things a tad bit easier.

You turn in her arms before cupping the sides of her neck, kissing the redhead softly. "Free for the rest of the day." You say and Nat smiles into the kiss, pulling you closer to her by your hips. When you both pull away, she brushes her lips over yours gently. "You wanna.?" Natasha's sentence trails off with a grin and you smile at her, your fingers hooking onto her dog tags and pulling her closer. "Mm..dirty Tasha." You laugh as you tease the kiss, kissing her softly only a few times. "I don't hear you complaining." Nat grins and you only roll your eyes, glancing at the clock before looking back at your girlfriend. "Then what are you waiting for?" You ask and Nat squeezes your waist, pulling back to grab your hand and lead you to the sleeping quarters.

You pull on your Navy-issued shirt as Nat laces up her boots, both of your faces flush from fucking for the past hour. "You messed up my hair." You say to Nat as you try and fix it in the mirror, seeing your slightly swollen lips and hickeys on your neck. "You wanted me to pull it." Nat shrugs and you purse your lips together, tugging your hair back into a semi-neat ponytail. "Yeah but not that hard." You mumble and Nat comes up behind you, both of you locking eyes in the mirror. "What did you say again? Oh Nat fuck me harder..mm tug my hair, oh!" Nat mimics your moans and you shove her lightly, trying to hide the smile on your face as you act mock offended. "I do not sound like that." You say and Natasha only smiles, fixing her belt and tucking her shirt into her pants. "Whatever you say, darling." She hums before kissing your cheek, pulling out your dog tags from under your shirt. You're about to pull her in for a proper kiss when the alarms suddenly go off in the base, a loud AI announcing the warning.

Warning sructural integrity compromised, immediate evacuation advised.

"Fuck." "Shit." Both of you curse under your breath as you swing the door to the barracks open, seeing the rest of the crew rush past you. "Come on we've got to get to the escape pods." Natasha says as she grabs onto your hand, running through the crowd as loud crunches and bangs echo throughout the drill.

"They're closing off this part of the drill!" Someone yells and it makes your heart race even faster in your chest, knowing as soon as someone closes that safety hatch you're all dead.

Nat and you push through people in the crowd, water starting to pool at your feet. It's only a matter of time before this section of the drill immediately collapses, making people literally trample over one another to try and get to safety.

"Come on, come on!" Clint calls as he stands by the safety hatch, watching the people behind you get sucked up in the pressure vacuum. "Close the door! Close it!" Steve yells at Clint as he watches the base collapse, you and Nat jumping over fallen debris and dodging electrical wires. "Go, just go!" Nat pushes you in front of her as you both sprint towards the hatch, Clint pressing the button to slowly close it. Your heart is racing a million miles per minute as you see the exit in sight, Natasha pushing you forward to get through first. There's barely enough space for you to fit through, grabbing Natasha's arm and pulling her in just in the nick of time.

The heavy metal door closes just in time, the rest of the drill getting torn out into the marina trench. Your chest is heaving as you hold on to Natasha, immediately scrambling up to check on your girlfriend. You cup her face as you watch her laugh up at you, hair soaked and face a bit cut but still alive. Your worry quickly changes into anger as you shove Nat in the arm, eyebrows furrowing. "Don't you ever do that again you fucking bastard!" You seethe, taking a few deep breathes before engulfing Natasha in a hug. "Fuck..I thought I'd lost you." You mumble as you feel Nat's arms wrap around you, not caring about Steve or Clint standing to the side. "What? I'm always going to put you first Y/n." Nat says softly before you pull back, now straddling Nat's lap. "Just don't do that self-sacrificing shit on me, okay? That was terrifying." You say and she nods her head, wiping away some of the wet hair that stuck to your face.

Clint clears his throat and you both look at him, you slowly getting up and helping Natasha up as well. "So, what do we do next?" He asks and everyone looks at each other, Steve speaking up first. "Let's find a way out of this death trap."

Clint paces as you all sit in the escape pod bay, you trying to get the only remaining one working.

"Are you done yet?" He asks for the third time in five minutes and you sigh, looking at him from over your shoulder with an annoyed glare.

"I'm a Navy engineer, not a wizard, stop rushing me." You say before turning back to the pod, trying to salvage what is left of the broken device.

When the four of you arrived at the escape pods, all of them have been deployed except one, you immediately jumping in and trying to fix it. It's been about ten minutes and your hope is dwindling by the second, finally dropping your makeshift tools and running a hand over your face. "Hey it's okay, we'll find another way out." Nat says softly as she crouches down next to you, rubbing your back in a small circles as she sees how distraught you are.

"Let's make our way over to the control base, see if we can make contact with the surface." Steve breaks the silence and you all turn to face him, everyone nodding their head as you and Tasha stand up.

You all meet up with Wanda, Tony, and Vison in the control base, all three of them having unsuccessful attempts to contact the surface. While the rest of the team is discussing the next plan of action, you're by the computer reviewing the readings on the ocean floor, finding the exact time when the drill collapsed. You know it wasn't your fault, you checked all the stats earlier and the base was perfectly fine, so what set it off? Eyes bouncing along the screen, you see that the ocean censors picked up a quake exactly fifteen seconds before the base started collapsing, an odd sensation filling your chest as you realize that no one could have prevented it.

"Y/n, did you hear us?" Steve asks and your head snaps towards the group, Nat looking over at you with a concerned look in her eyes. "Pardon?" You ask and Steve explains Tony's plan, saying that they could use the pressurized suits to try and walk to the next drilling facility to use the escape pods there. "But the nearest facility is more than few a miles from here, and besides, we have no clue what we'll find on the ocean's floor." You say and Tony nods his head, sighing as he sees the map.

These suits haven't gone more than a few yards from the base, specifically being made for drill repairs and short expeditions to fix the service towers.

"Well it's the only option that we have, other than that we can just stay here and wait for the drill to collapse ontop of us." Tony says and you contemplate it for a moment, glancing over at Nat before nodding. "Okay, what other choice do we have?'

You’re all suiting up when you see that Natasha’s helmet is sitting on one of the benches, the redhead herself slipping on her suit not too far away. Walking over to the helmet, you decide that there’s no harm in checking it out, reasoning that you should be more safe than sorry in a situation like this. Your heart almost stops when you see a small crack in the glass, knowing that once she goes underwater she’s as good as dead when the pressure hits. Taking a quick glance around you, you slowly exchange Nat’s helmet for yours, taking the damaged one in your hand and heading back to where you were suiting up. It’s better me than anyone else, especially Nat. You think to yourself as you move to put the rest of your suit on, Tony calling you for help before you could do so.

Once you arrive back at the bench, you’re relieved that the helmet is still there, knowing that yours is the damaged one. “Hey baby, you ready?” Tasha asks as she walks over to you, suit still bunched up around her waist. “Mm.” You hum as you step towards her, hugging her tightly and putting your face into her shoulder. Nat is a bit taken aback but she melts into your grasp anyways, wrapping her arms around your midsection and pulling you close.

“I love you Tasha.” You whisper softly as you close your eyes, knowing that you’ll be dead as soon as you hit the water. “I love you too Y/n.” Nat says before pulling back, looking into your eyes with a bit of concern. “Why are you acting this way darling? We’re gonna make it out of this together, I promise.” Natasha says and you only nod your head, giving her a bittersweet smile as you lean up and kiss her.

“I know...I just love you a lot Nat. Wanted to let you know that before we set off.” You hum and she nods her head, kissing your lips briefly before pulling you in for another hug. Her head is tucked into your shoulder and she rocks the two of you gently, kissing your temple once you both pull away. “Let’s get out of here.” She smiles and you nod your head, pulling the helmet on and securing it tightly.

Your breaths are shaky as Tony lowers all of you down into the water, preparing yourself for the pain you’re about to experience. Nat sees how tense you are and mistakes it for just plain old nerves, not knowing that you just gave yourself a death wish by swapping helmets with her. “It’s gonna be okay malysh.” Nat reassures you as she grabs your hand, you shooting her a smile as you make eye contact. “I know..I know..” You whisper under your breath, the water now over your heads as Tony lowers you deeper. “Get ready everyone, the pressure is going to hit hard.” Clint says and to the left of you, you see Steve’s helmet crack, your eyes widening as you spot it.

“Steve, what did you do?” You ask and he only looks at you, a gentle smile on his face as he sees you and Natasha. “Couldn’t let you leave her alone.” He smiles and you shake your head, frantically ordering Tony to not open the door. “Take care of her for me, okay kid?” Steve says and it’s too late, the door already opening and the pressure flooding in. “Steve no!” You yell as you see his helmet crack inwards, barley a second to register what happened before his suit implodes from the inside out.

“No Steve! No! Fuck!” You’re sobbing as everyone else processes what just happened, Tony frantically asking what just happened. “He switched our helmets! That idiot!” You say as Natasha just stands there in pure shock, Clint being the next one to speak up. “You knew your helmet was defective and you didn’t tell anyone?!” He questions and you shake your head. “I switched my helmet for Natasha’s! It was supposed to be me! Not Steve! He must’ve grabbed it when I got distracted, god damn it!” You’re angry, angry at Steve, angry at the helmet, angry at the earthquake, and most of all you’re angry at yourself. You should’ve noticed it. You should have made sure it was still the damaged one. “You should have just let me had it Y/n.” Nat says and you shake your head, glaring at your girlfriend.

“It’s better me than you Nat. You’re not dying, not if I can help it.” You say before everyone falls silent, everyone stunned at your outburst and Steve’s death. After a while Tony clears his throat and steps around you, looking into the depths of the mariana trench. “We’ll have time to mourn later, right now we need to make sure that we’ll live enough to.”

"Tony's dead..Wanda's dead, Vision..Steve..fuck they're all dead." Clint gasps out as he holds onto Natasha, the remaining three of you getting separated when a monster ambushed you. "Clint calm down, I need you to calm down." Nat says as she holds onto her best friend, darkness swirling around them. She forces herself to stay calm as she guides Clint through some deep breathes, refraining from asking about you until his pulse rate goes back down to normal.

You all saw their helmets crack and their blood muddle up the water, these monsters picking everyone off one by one. “Where’s Y/n?” Natasha asks once Clint can finally regulate his breathing, his grip loosening on her suit. “I..I don’t know. We got separated after that thing attacked us." He says and Nat is about to ask another question when she hears your static-y scream ring over the coms, her blood running cold as she sees your suit's lights frantically moving in the distance. "Haul ass Clint, come on." Nat doesn't waste any time as she tries to run through the water, dragging Clint along as she hears your screams through the coms. "Y/n! Y/n where are you?" Natasha calls out as your lights flicker off, head immediately turning 90 degrees when she sees your helmet lights come back on.

You're stabbing this merman-shark-eel hybrid in the face when Nat and Clint finally reach you, it's blood making the water murky as you kick it off. "Oh thank god you're alright." Nat breathes out once she sees you standing there, that relief only lasting for a moment as another thing latches onto both Clint and your legs. Its momentum is quick enough to knock both of you off your feet, unfortunately causing you to drop your knife in the process. Both you and Clint grit out curse words under your breath as you fight with the mysterious monster, Natasha loading up a flare gun to try and help. When she shoots the gun, it temporarily lights up the atmosphere around you, blood running cold as you see the monster that grabbed you.

Its teeth are sharp and dripping with blood, its slimy black claws slowly pulling you and Clint closer to its mouth. As it drags you along the ocean floor, you grab onto a jagged rock, quickly trying to swing at the arm. "Mother fucker." You curse as you hit the arm, it's sharp nails digging even more into your leg as a reflex. With all your might, you continue to swing at the hand, desperately wanting this to be over already. “Let. go. of. me.” You grunt out, watching the skin and muscle get hacked away. The monster screeches and pulls its arm back, now trying to drag in Clint double time since one of its meal got away. “Clint! Hold on!” You yell as you grab onto the man’s hand, trying to find any traction as you look at Clint. Nat is immediately behind you in an instant, grabbing onto your waist to hold the both of you back. Clint is screaming at this point, his leg getting torn by the nails clawing at his skin.

“Don’t let me go, please!” Clint says as you three get pulled closer to the monsters mouth, you desperately trying to tug him away. “I’ve got you, I’ve got you.” Your teeth are clenched as you feel yourself starting to loose your grip, Nat’s boots slipping on the ocean floor. “Don’t let go.” Clint begs and you nod your head, leaning forward even more to try and keep hold. “We’re gonna get out of this, I promise..” You say but there’s no time for him to respond, the monster roughly pulling him out of your grip and dragging him into the depths of the deep blue sea.

The last thing you hear is Clint’s painful screams that come through the coms, Nat grabbing onto you to keep you from falling over the edge. The both of you are quiet as you stare into the unknown, heart pounding as you realize that you’re the only ones left. “Clint.” Natasha whispers softly and you hold onto her, both of you trying to process how quick that was. “I’m sorry Tasha. I’m so sorry.” You whisper and she swallows thickly, taking one last look into the darkness before making eye contact with you. “It’s okay. It wasn’t your fault.” She says before composing herself, straightening her posture and checking her compass. “Come on, we got set off course.” Nat grabs your hand before she turns, keeping her gaze straight ahead as she pulls you both away from the ledge.

“They didn’t train us for this in the Navy.” Nat mumbles as you both trudge along the ocean floor, about half of the way towards the other drill facility. “Yeah, sea monsters and flesh eating eels weren’t exactly on the handbook.” You say before checking your compass, making sure you’re still on course. “Nope.” Nat sighs and shakes her head, glancing over at you with a soft smile.

“Hey..I love you.” She blurts out and your chest floods with warmth, a smile tugging at your lips as you look at her. “I love you, Tasha.” You say and she smiles back, both of you stepping a bit closer to one another. “When we get to the surface, would you..hypothetically..marry me?” Natasha asks and you raise an eyebrow, finding it amusing how Nat trying to play it cool.

“You know..because I can’t imagine my life without you, and I don’t want to live in a world without you in it. No scratch that, I couldn’t live in a world without you in it. You’re my soulmate..my person y/n, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you..hypothetically of course.” Nat finishes with an awkward laugh and you can only grin, reaching out to hold her hand gently. “Hypothetically..” You start and she laughs breathily. “If you asked me to marry you, I would say yes.” You say and she nods her head, a smile present in your words.

“Do you wanna ask?” You question and she shakes her head, making a little pff sound. “No I don’t want to ask.” She says and you nod your head, looking down at the map. “We’re almost there, just a few more miles-” “Will you marry me?” Nat breathes out in a rush and you laugh, looking back at the redhead who has a nervous smile on her face. “Mm yes.” You grin and Nat’s face lights up. “Yes?” She repeats, voice a bit high as she stares at you. “Yes you idiot.” You giggle as you tug her closer, squeezing her hand gently. “You better hug me when we get out of these suits.” You tease and she nods her head, looking at you with love in her eyes. “I’m gonna do you one better, I’m gonna marry you.”

Your breathing is shaky as you slightly lag behind Natasha, the air in your suit getting harder to breathe for the last few yards. “Are you okay darling?” Nat asks as she turns to look at you, you nodding your head as you wave a hand infront of your face. “I’m okay, just tired.” You say with a tired smile, Natasha nodding her head as she grabs your arm. “Come on you turtle, we’re almost there.” She teases and you can only laugh softly, continuing onward.

You’re struggling to take in breaths when a robotic voice rings through your ears, a small warning flashing in the corner of your helmet.

Caution, five minutes of air remaining. Oxygen pod damaged.

Fuck. You knew your luck would run out eventually, especially when you’re this close to escaping. “We’re only a few hundred yards from the facility, shouldn’t be too long before you get that hug.” Natasha smiles and you don’t respond, instead letting go of her arm and letting yourself fall behind a bit. “Y/n?” Nat asks as she faces you, seeing you stand there with a small smile on your face.

“Keep on going Nat, I’m right behind you.” You say softly, not wanting to worry your girlfriend as she’s so close to escaping. “No come on you dummy, let’s go.” She says but you shake your head, seeing the clock count down on the corner of the helmet. “I’m right behind you love.” You whisper, willing your voice not to break as Nat’s brows furrow. “Y/n what’s wrong?” She asks and her eyes widen once she sees it, the little screen on your arm flashing an oxygen warning. “You’ve gotta go Tasha.” You say and she shakes her head, gently holding your shoulders as her mind starts to race.

“What happened?” She asks and you point to the pack on your back. “The oxygen pod got damaged back when the monster dragged Clint and I across the floor, guess I didn’t notice it until now.” You say and Nat swallows thickly, checking her map before looking back at you. “If we’re quick enough we can make it, we just need to move-” She starts to say but you stop her gently, holding onto her biceps. “I’m not gonna make it, you know that Nat.” You whisper but she shakes her head holding onto you tighter. “No. No, you have to make it Y/n. Please.” She shakily says and you put your hands on the side of her helmet, holding the glass gently.

“We don’t have enough time Tasha.” You whisper and tears are forming in her eyes, the redhead trying to blink them away as she looks at you. “Please..you have to make it..” She begs, voice small as she sees the timer count down. “I need you to make it, I can’t do this without you..” Nat whispers and you only wish you could hug her one last time. “You don’t need me Tasha. But you’ve got to get going, you need to get to the survive for both of us.” You say and Natasha shakes her head, tears now fully falling. “I’m not just going to leave you here.” She says as her hands shake, trying to think of a way to get you to survive. “You have to.” You whisper before Nat pulls you in for a hug, the suits not stopping her from showing how much she loves you. “I love you Y/n.” She whispers and you hold her closer, closing your eyes as you hear the timer count down.

“I love you, Tasha.” You say softly, Nat holding you there for a few more moments before pulling away. “Keep my dog tags love, so I’ll always be with you.” She says as she pulls back from you, your eyebrows furrowing in confusion as you look up at the redhead. “What?” You question right before the ai voice rings out once again, the warning light suddenly clicking off.

Oxygen pod fixed, air supply replenished.

“Natasha.” You whisper out her name as you see your old oxygen pod drop to the sea floor, realizing that Nat just switched out the rest of her oxygen into your suit. With no pod in her suit, Natasha’s oxygen levels immediately drop, warning signs flashing bright red in her helmet. “I’m sorry darling.” Nat says as she looks at you, starting to feel lightheaded from the lack of air. “No..no no no no no.” You breathe out as Nat collapses into your arms, quickly moving her so she’s leaning onto your body. “Okay..okay come on. We can do this.” You mumble to yourself as you start to trudge your way towards the drilling facility. If there's one thing that they taught you in the Navy, that's to never give up, even when you're within an inch of your life you never stop fighting.

Once the murky lights of the drilling facility finally come into view, you almost jump for joy, Nat's head hung low as you drag her along. Your body aches and you think your leg might be broken, but that doesn't stop the relief coursing through your veins, opening the door and stumbling into the pressurized walkway. The entrance closes behind you before the water gets drained from the room, your legs collapsing from the lack of support the ocean gave you.

You gently place Nat on the ground before collapsing onto your knees, taking off your helmet and gasping down the fresh air. You cough a bit as you try and regain your breath, unzipping your suit so it bunches at your waist. Your coughs soon turn into laughs as you realize you've made it, quickly turning to Natasha to celebrate. "Nat, we did it. Holy shit..we fucking did it." You smile as you gently shake her shoulder, expecting her to take off her helmet by now.

"Nat..? Nat darling..we did it." You say softly, your smile fading as you take Nat's helmet off. "Oh my god, no." Your heart stops as you see Nat's pale cheeks and blue-tinted lips, shaky hands cupping her face as you ask the AI for her vitals.

No vitals found.

"Tasha..No please." You say before quickly moving to unzip her suit, fingertips touching her ice-cold skin. You start chest compressions as you desperately try to revive your love, the tears building up more and more with each round. "You made a promise, Nat." Your teeth are clenched as you finish another set of 30 compressions, bending down to give your fiancee two rescue breaths. "You said we're going to get out of this together. You promised me." You're barely keeping it together as you start another round, hot tears threatening to spill.

"You said you wanted to spend the rest of your life with me, well you can't do that if you leave me." Your chest is heaving as your compressions get sloppy. "So god damn it please Nat. Please. Please don't leave me." A sob rips from your throat as your movements finally falter, your arms collapsing from underneath you. Your entire body is wracked with sobs as you cling onto Natasha's shirt, crying into her chest as you hold her lifeless body.

You beg for Nat to come back like a broken record, chest heaving as you finally let all of your emotions breakthrough. You scream and you cry until your throat is raw, guilt gripping at your chest as you think all of your fallen crew members.

Your head rests on Natasha's stomach until your heart-wrenching sobs mellow down into silent cries, this small emotional break letting you spot something sticking out from your fiancee's helmet.

Sniffling a bit as you sit up, you take Nat's helmets into your hands, gingerly pulling out a piece of paper wedged into one of the corners. With shaky fingers, you hold it up into the light, breath catching in your throat when you see it. It's a picture of you and Nat after running one of the Navy obstacle courses, a wide smile on both of your faces as your working uniforms are caked in mud. A quivering smile tugs on your lips before you sob again, placing your head in your hands as your shoulders shake.

You’re still a mess as you fully get out of your suit, hands shaking with exhaustion as you put a makeshift splint on your leg. You easily find the escape pods and sigh in relief when you see that they’re all working, entering the commands to get to the surface.

As you stand in front of the pod, you decide to bring Natasha with you, refusing to leave the love of your life at the bottom of the ocean. The tears come rushing again as you pull Nat into the escape pod with you, pressing the button to close the hatch and to finally get the two of you out of here. “I’ve got you baby, I’ve got you.” You whisper as your arms tighten around Nat’s torso, slipping her dog tags over your head before you kiss her temple. Your eyes are screwed shut the entire time you travel to the surface, sniffling softly as hot tears silently run down your cheeks.

When you break the surface, you aren’t excited or relieved, you just feel numb, the cold air hitting your face once you open the pod. It’s like everything around you is shaded grey, your eyes dull and dead as the paramedics reach you. The entire time you’re looking at Natasha, seeing the first responders check for her pulse. As they pull your stretchers away from each other, there’s only one question on your mind: what’s the point of living in this world if Natasha isn’t in it?

————

The sunlight softly illuminates the Avengers compound in the early hours of the morning, two bodies warmly pressed up against each other under the protection of a fluffy duvet.

A phone alarm goes off but it doesn’t break the peaceful atmosphere in the bedroom, one of the bed’s occupants slowly turning over to shut off the device.

“Y/n, baby, wake up my love.” Natasha hums as she kisses you, her soft pink lips planting a few gentle kisses on your neck and cheek. Your only response is a hum as you turn in Natasha’s arms and bury your face into her neck, wrapping your arms around her torso and pulling yourself closer. “Come on darling.” Nat laughs as she runs her hand through your hair, voice a bit rough from just waking up. “Too early.” You mumble and Nat sighs, a sleepy smile still on her face as she holds you. “Steve will kill us if we’re late to training.” She says but you shake your head, gently kissing the warm skin of her neck.

“You’re the Black Widow, you could kick his ass ten times over if you wanted to.” You reason and Nat nods her head. “You do have a point malysh.” She says and you hum. “Five more minutes.” You mumble and Nat nods her head, wrapping her arms around you before pulling you closer. “Okay, five more minutes.” She whispers before kissing your cheek, her fingers running up and down your spine.

#natasha romanoff fanfiction #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #marvel mcu #mcu natasha romanoff #mcu #au

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watchmegetobsessed · 3 years

Text

TO LOVE AND BE LOVED - Part Four (Harry Styles)

a/n: happy TLABL day!! can’t believe we are already on part 4! im not sure if part 5 will be the last part, im still very much writing the rest so we’ll see! thank you so much for all the love you’ve been showing the series, i love reading your reactions! feedback is very much appreciated this time as well!

pairing: CEO!Dad!Harry X Reader

warning: mentions of death, cheating and divorce

word count: 11k

SERIES MASTERPOST masterlist

You wake up feeling like you’ve been hit by a truck or at least consumed a whole bottle of tequila. Your head is pounding and it’s probably with all the crying and stress, so you are quick to take some pills to ease the pain. Sitting on the edge of your bed you stare ahead of you blankly, trying to gain power to start the day.

Though today is Sunday, so you are not working, you’re still worried to face Harry after whatever it was that happened last night. What were you thinking, kissing your boss out of the blue? And what was he thinking kissing you for the second time? It kind of feels like a dream, but you know it really did happen.

You try to stay in your room as long as possible, avoiding to face Harry, but soon enough you can’t postpone it any longer, because you are starving. Peeking out of your room you hear voices coming from downstairs and as you reach the stairs you recognize not just Harry’s and Izzy’s voice, but Niall’s as well.

Arriving downstairs you see Niall and Izzy sitting on the stools at the kitchen island while Harry is cleaning the dishes after their breakfast probably. He is wearing a pair of light-washed jeans and a black hoodie, the sleeves bunched around his elbows. He looks so casual and yet just looking at him makes your heart skip a beat. You are in some big trouble.

Niall spots you first and he perks up waving in your way happily.

“Good morning, Y/N!” he beams, his accent sounds so comforting in such a stressful moment, for some reason.

“Hi, good morning,” you breathe out. Harry turns around, his eyes fall on you and a shiver runs down your spine. He just looked at you and you already want to run away and hide in your room a little longer.

“Morning,” he greets you with a nod before turning back to the sink to finish the dishes.

“Daddy and Uncle Niall are taking me to the park! We are picking Yara up too!” Izzy shares the news with you excitedly.

“Oh, that sounds great!” you smile at her, giving her cheek a gentle pinch before moving to the fridge.

“Do you want to come?” she invites you and your eyes immediately flicker over to Harry who looks at you the exact same time, making your stomach drop right away.

“Um, I have some work to do, maybe some other time,” you smile at Izzy, grabbing yourself a yoghurt and a banana before shutting the fridge closed.

“So how was yesterday?” Niall asks and you freeze. Does he know what happened? Did Harry tell him about last night?

Niall sees your frightened look to which he shoots you a confused one.

“The wedding, Harry told me earlier you had a wedding yesterday.”

“Oh, it went… fine,” you nod shortly, peeking at Harry who is now staring down at his feet awkwardly. This was starting to get painfully ridiculous, the two of you dancing around each other, pretending like you weren’t down each other’s throats just a few hours prior.

“Alright, let’s leave, we need to pick Yara up in twenty,” Harry claps his hands. Izzy jumps off the stool and takes Niall’s hand as they all head out of the house. “We’ll probably have lunch somewhere and then go grocery shopping, so we’ll be away for a while,” he informs you without looking your way before leaving without even waiting for any reaction from you.

Yeah, this was straight up the most awkward conversation you’ve had in a long time.

“Here, Izzy. Play some games on my phone!” Niall passes his phone to her with a sweet smile, but Harry smacks his bicep.

“What are you doing? She has enough screen time already!”

“Yeah, but I needed her to be busy so I can ask you what the fuck was that in the house.”

Harry curls his lips into his mouth, his eyes glued to the road ahead of him as he tries to come up with a good answer, but he knows he could never fool his best friend.

“Don’t stop, even if she is busy with the phone,” Harry scolds him, glancing at Izzy through the mirror, but she doesn’t seem to be listening to them. Niall rolls his eyes, but lets his words uncommented. “Besides, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “Oh, you exactly know it. You and Y/N were like scared little bunnies around each other. She looked like she was about to faint any moment when you looked at her.”

“Maybe she was just tired,” he shrugs, but Niall laughs at his weak attempt to fool him.

“Now tell me the real reason, I know something happened.”

Harry chews on his bottom lip, debating whether he should come clean or not, but he knows Niall won’t leave him until he finally tells him so he is not left with many choices.

“We kissed.”

“What?!” Niall snaps, a little louder than Harry expected, his voice makes him flinch. “Sorry, that was a little too dramatic, but what the fuck? Why were you keeping this from me?!”

“Because I knew this is how you’d react,” Harry mumbles under his breath. “And… I don’t think it will ever happen again.”

“What do you mean?”

“The whole thing was a mess,” Harry sighs. “She came home late, pretty upset because she met with her ex at the wedding.”

“The one that cheated on her?”

“Mhm. The dude was an asshole and… she was crying in the kitchen when I came down. We sat on the couch, talked, I tried to calm her down and all that and then… she kissed me.”

“Wait, she kissed you? Wow, she’s got balls!” Niall laughs.

“Yeah, but it was, like, really short and she pulled back, shocked at herself for doing it. I think it was just all the emotions that got her a little confused. But then she tried to apologize and… and I kissed her.”

“What?! Oh my God!” Niall’s mind is blown and he doesn’t even tries to hide his excitement hearing the news about last night. “Was there tongue?”

“Jesus, Niall!” Harry scowls. “I’m not sharing the details with you.”

“Okay, but was it like a solid, short kiss or you guys went right at it?”

Harry doesn’t answer, but it tells enough about the situation and Niall can’t help but whistle as he claps his hands.

“Stop acting like a horny teenager, Niall,” Harry growls rolling his eyes at his friend.

“So you guys snogged, what’s the matter with that?”

“It got awkward. We just pulled back and I think we both were pretty shocked about it and… she just stood up and said that she is going to bed. End of story. And then you were there in the morning, so… yeah.”

“Tell me why the hell we are heading to a playdate then when you should be talking to her?” Niall asks, arching an eyebrow at Harry.

“There’s not much to talk about. It just happened in the heat of the moment, that’s all,” Harry shrugs, but deep down he knows it’s a blatant lie. At least on his side.

Unlike you, who fell asleep right away, Harry spent about an hour lying in his bed wide awake, not able to think about anything else but your lips on his. He replayed the whole thing in his head about a million times, he was starting to feel ashamed of it, but he just couldn’t stop.

Your abrupt leaving left him puzzled and he thought long and hard about why you felt the need to run away. The only thing that made sense to him is that you regretted it the moment it happened, that it really did just happen in the heat of the moment so Harry thought it’s best to act like it didn’t even happen.

“Please don’t be an ass and just… talk to her. We both know we can never know for sure what a woman thinks about. You can’t just assume and think that your assumption is one hundred percent right.”

“I find it funny that you’re such an expert in this stuff, but you haven’t had a stable relationship since like, we finished college,” Harry scoffs as he takes the corner and starts driving down the street to Yara’s moms’ house.

“Me not having a relationship doesn’t mean that I’m not good at them. It’s a choice,” Niall smirks.

“Yeah, whatever.”

“But back to the topic, you wanted to kiss her, right?”

“I mean, yeah? It kinda threw me off as well, but it was… nice.”

“Please don’t refer to a kiss as nice again,” Niall gags, but Harry just chuckles at him. “A kiss is hot, passionate, pant tighteni—“

“Okay, that’s enough!” Harry cuts him, earning a cackle from him.

“Just talk to her, don’t be a pussy.”

“I really do need better friends,” Harry mumbles under his breath as he pulls up to the driveway.

You really didn’t feel like staying home alone in that big ass house so you invited yourself over for an early dinner to your mom’s. You haven’t been over since the little fiasco with Trevor so you thought it might be a good idea to spend some time with them. Trevor said they’ve been trying to keep the fighting down to the minimum and not let it turn into a screaming match, so your speech worked after all.

It’s past three o’clock when you leave, no sign of Harry or Izzy and you feel like they won’t be back for a while either, so you lock everything up and head out.

You have a genuinely good time. It’s obvious that your mom feels guilty about her past behavior and is trying to lure you into forgiving her, though you already did that. But you’re happy your little speech worked. At least Trevor can have his peace now.

After dinner your mom disappears in her room and then returns with a nicely wrapped box and you sigh, rolling your eyes.

“Mom, I told you I don’t need gifts.” You give her a look. Your birthday is coming up next week, but you were never the kind to celebrate. You never felt comfortable with all the attention and fuss birthdays come with, so you’ve always liked to keep it down. These past years you didn’t even ask for anything, though your parents never listened and this year doesn’t seem like an exception either.

“Oh hush. You can’t expect me not to celebrate my baby!” she shakes her head, sitting back to the dining table. “And besides, I didn’t pay a dollar for it,” she then adds and now you’re curious what she got you.

Removing the lid of the box you peek inside and your lips immediately part as you see the stack of polaroids inside.

“I know how much you like old photos and when we sold Grandma’s house back in August, I found these in my old room. I got a polaroid camera for graduation, just in time to take tons of pictures of you,” she explains with a soft chuckle as you start going through the pictures from when you were born and the next few years. Whenever you are done looking at a photo you hand it to Trevor so he can take a look at them too.

“Are you sure you don’t want to keep these, mom?” you ask glancing up at her over the stack.

“I took out a few for myself,” she admits with a sneaky smile. “You can have the rest, I know how much you love these stuff.”

“Thank you, mom,” you smile at her, hugging her from the side, feeling touched by this gift.

It’s nearing eight when you arrive back home, the lights are still up and if you had to guess you’d say that Harry is trying to tire Izzy out enough to put to bed, as usual. Walking in, your guess is proven right, the TV is on in the living room while Harry is sitting on the couch, Izzy all over him in her pink pajamas, playing around with his hair like she always does.

“Hi Y/N!” she calls out happily when she spots you.

“Hi Sunshine, did you have a good time today?” you ask with a soft smile.

“I did! And guess what!”

“What?”

“Yara invited me over for a sleepover!” she beams, clearly ecstatic about the invitation.

“That’s amazing!”

“What’s that?” she curiously asks pointing at the gift box in your hands. Harry turns to see you, his eyes falling on the box as well.

“Oh, it’s a gift I got from my mom,” you explain, stepping closer.

“Is it your birthday?” she questions, knitting her eyebrows together.

“No, not yet. But it will be next week,” you admit with a soft chuckle.

“Really? Are you having a birthday party?” she gasps, getting way too excited already. Harry eyes you without a word, holding Izzy by her hips so she is not losing her balance standing on the cushion of the couch.

“I’m not, sorry. I don’t like having birthday parties,” you pout at her apologetically.

“Oh, okay. Can I see what you got from your mom?”

“Izzy, don’t be nosy,” Harry warns her, but you just smile at the curious girl.

“Sure,” you nod, joining them on the couch. You sit on the opposite end than where Harry is, Izzy in the middle as she watches the box in awe. You set it down to the cushion and take the lid off, revealing the stack of photos.

“What are these?”

“They are called polaroids. They are old pictures, taken with a special camera that kind of prints the picture out right away,” you explain to her as she takes the first photo from the top, a picture of your mom holding you as a newborn. She was so young, practically a child herself, yet her pride was undeniable, it shone all over her face. You spot Harry looking at the picture as well over Izzy’s shoulder, still keeping his silence.

“Who are these people?”

“That’s my mom and that’s me as a baby. And… this is my dad,” you hold up another photo that features your dad.

“They really were young when they had you,” Harry speaks up for the first time, surprised by the photos.

“Yeah, they were.”

“What are you going to do with them?” Izzy questions, dropping the photo back into the box as she leans back to lie on Harry’s chest.

“Not sure yet. I might make an album from them,” you shrug. “I really like polaroids, I love that they are one of a kind.”

Izzy nods, though you’re not sure she understood what you meant by that. Fidgeting with her fingers she pushes down a yawn and Harry takes that as a good sign.

“Alright, time for bed, Love. Say good night to Y/N.” He picks her up as he stands from the couch. Izzy waves at you smiling with tired eyes.

“Night-night, Y/N,” she singsongs as Harry carries her towards the stairs.

Putting the pictures back into the box you head into your bedroom too, feeling like the time when you and Harry talk about what happened yesterday will never come. It’s pretty clear that he doesn’t want to acknowledge it, so you’ll just let it slip. It happened just in the heat of the moment, didn’t mean a thing, you better forget about it.

After a speedy shower you are getting ready to just go to bed, read some and have a relaxing evening, something you didn’t have the luck to have the day before. But right as you’re about to make yourself comfortable in bed, there’s a knock on your door.

“Hey,” you breathe out as you open it and find Harry standing in the hallway.

“I hope you weren’t sleeping already.”

“No. Come on in,” you invite him inside and he walks in. As he awkwardly stops in the middle of the room you realize he hasn’t even been in here since you’ve moved in. He takes a look around, examining what you’ve done with the room and you feel thankful you decided to put your laundry away just yesterday, so no dirty underwear is littering the floor anywhere.

“How can I help you?” you ask with a soft smile.

“I, erm… I just wanted to clear some things,” he starts, clearly feeling nervous about the conversation and that makes the two of you for sure. Nodding you let him know that you’re waiting for him to carry on. “What happened yesterday…” he starts and your breath gets caught in your throat. “You were very emotional, a lot happened and it was a very confusing moment probably for the both of us. I really like working with you, I’m very happy with the way you’ve been taking care of Izzy and I would hate to ruin it with anything.”

You can feel your stomach dropping even though you were bracing yourself for this version of the situation. It was very likely that Harry would want to keep things professional, like before, but it still makes you feel like shit.

“I’m sorry for stepping over some boundaries, but I really hope that… we can put it behind us and that we can move on.”

He is using his business tone. It’s the same tone he used with Sarah and his assistants and now he is using it to talk about the kiss that happened between the two of you.

“Sure,” you answer quietly nodding. “Moving on sounds… great,” you nod, forcing a smile to your face, but it couldn’t be more fake.

Harry nods as he runs his tongue over his lips, looking around a little awkwardly now that it’s been discussed.

“Alright, then… good night, Y/N,” he nods in your way before heading towards the door.

“Good night, Harry,” you mumble after him as he walks out and closes the door behind him.

As soon as you are on your own, you let out a shaky breath, falling to your bed, lips trembling as you try to even make out what you’re feeling. Because part of you is glad he didn’t make a fuss about it and you didn’t lose your job, that’s great news. But another part, which is vehemently bigger than the first one is upset and sad and… disappointed?

You were hoping it meant something for him, you wanted him to want it, to feel the same craving for you as you feel towards him, because you haven’t really stopped thinking about what his lips felt like against yours, what it was like when his fingers dug into your thigh, how it sent a shiver down your spine when his tongue met yours.

But this conversation just made it awfully clear that he wants nothing to do with you. And it hurts probably more than it should.

Harry doesn’t get too far from your door when he feels the all too familiar pain in his chest he has been forced to live with these past over three years. It’s like something is gripping his heart and lungs in his chest so tight, even breathing is a hard task.

Rushing into his bedroom he closes the door behind him and slides down to the floor as the tears flood from his eyes. The past twenty-four hours have been rough on him, the guilt has been growing immensely since he let himself slip and give in for his desires and eventually kiss you.

It’s not that he didn’t want it. Because he’d be lying if he said it meant nothing to him and that he hasn’t been craving it these past weeks.

But his guilt, this evil little voice in the back of his head wouldn’t let him enjoy it even the slightest.

How dare you kiss another woman after your wife? Are you insane? You don’t deserve to feel this way with anyone else. Not when you were the reason your wife ended up dead!

Heartbreaking sobs escape from his chest as he pushes himself up from the floor and heads into the bathroom. He strips out of his clothes leaving them all in a pile on the marble tiled floor before he steps into the shower and lets the hot water pour down on him, almost burning his skin, but he doesn’t change the temperature, as if he was trying to punish himself. His salty tears mix with the water as he stands still, chest heaving as his vivid memories from that night come crashing down on him all at once.

“Are you giving me the silent treatment now? Really?” Harry sighed at his wife when she failed to answer his question about the whereabouts of his sweatpants. Maggie sat on the bed with the recent maternity book she’d been reading these past days, not even paying her husband a look at his question.

“Mags, for fuck’s sake, I’m not in the mood to play this game right now,” Harry sighed in defeat. Maggie looked up at him, closed the book slowly and put it aside to the bedside table.

“So the question of expanding our family is just a game to you?” she asked calmly, but her anger and disappointment in her husband was soaking through her tone.

“You know that’s not what I’m talking about.”

“No, you are not talking about anything, because you refuse to have a fucking conversation with me!” she retorted, letting all her bottled up anger out that’d been boiling inside her.

“I already told you that I can’t think about having another baby right now. Izzy is only six, I’m in the middle of a huge project, I don’t have the capacity to think about having another baby, Maggie. I thought I made it clear, why are you still onto me then?”

“Because it’s not something we can put aside for too long! I don’t want to have another baby when I’m in my mid-thirties, but if we go with your plan, we won’t even have another one!” Maggie jumped to her feet, pacing the floor back and forth next to their bed as Harry stood with his hands on his hips, getting irritated that they were fighting over the same thing again.

“I never said we can’t have another baby, but why can’t we wait a little? When Izzy is older and more independent? Do you have any idea how hard it is to take care of a baby and a toddler? It’s a fucking nightmare!” Harry growled rolling his eyes.

“So our family is just a pain in the ass for you?” Maggie questioned, folding her arms on her chest and she was really getting on Harry’s nerves, twisting his words completely.

“That’s not what I said!” he snapped. “All I’m asking for is you to be a little patient and give me some time!”

“I don’t have time, Harry! I want it as soon as possible!”

“Why are you so fucking difficult?” Harry groaned, running his hands through his hair. “Why can’t you wait just… one year at least? Is that too much to ask?”

“And is it too much to ask to focus on your family? We are supposed to come first!” she turned it back around and Harry was not having the dirty games she was playing, putting all the blame on him when she could have been a little more understanding as well. He was feeling like his opinion was put aside and didn’t matter at all.

“You do come first, you don’t have the right to question that.” Harry pointed at Maggie, his blood practically boiling at this point.

“Then why do I feel like work is always more important to you?”

“What are you talking about? You know I’m home as much as I can, but we still need the fucking money, Maggie! Or how do you plan on paying the bills of this fucking mansion?!”

“I don’t need a mansion! I just need my family and that’s all!” she argued, but Harry rolled his eyes at her.

“Well you seem to enjoy this mansion a lot when you sit by the pool and watch movies in the fucking movie theater in your own home!” he snapped back feistily. “Stop acting like I don’t do shit for our family when I work my ass off to provide the best possible life. And all I’m asking for in return is some fucking time before we bring another baby into the picture!”

“You are so fucking unbelievable,” Maggie shook her head as she marched past him, walking away from the fight that just grinded his gears even more.

Just as Harry was about to go after her, he heard the faint crying through the baby monitor. Groaning he headed into Izzy’s room and as he took her out of her crib, he heard the front door open and shut.

“Aw, baby, I’m sorry, did we wake you up?” he cooed, hugging the crying little girl to his chest who clung onto him immediately. Even at such a young age, Izzy was already a daddy’s little girl.

Soon her cries died down to just little hiccups as Harry soothed her, patting her bum and back gently as he moved around the room. Holding Izzy in one arm he grabbed his phone with his free hand and typed a message to his wife.

Harry: Where did you go?!

Maggie: I’m going over to my sister’s. Don’t wait up, might get home late.

Harry couldn’t help but roll his eyes. She called him out for running away from the conversation, but when they were finally talking about it she just decided to disappear when it didn’t head in the direction she wanted, seeking comfort at her sister, as always.

He managed to lull Izzy back to sleep, putting her back to her crib before going back to the bedroom. As time passed by and he calmed down more and more he wished Maggie was home so they could talk about it without jumping at each other’s throat. There had to be a compromising way to solve the situation that would be fine for the both of them.

Harry: Please come home and let’s talk about it.

Maggie: So you can bite my head off again?!

Harry: Mags, please. You have to understand my point of view too!

Maggie: I understand it, but I don’t agree with it. And you don’t seem to understand mine…

Harry: I do, but there are more things to consider. Please come home, I don’t want to have this conversation over the phone!

Maggie: Okay, I’m heading home now.

Harry put his phone down to the nightstand with a long sigh, already tired from everything that happened that day and he knew this conversation would be a hard one too, but they needed to be on the same page when it came to their family.

It was late getting late and Harry grew a little more restless with each passing moment. Paisley, Maggie’s sister lived about thirty minutes away from them and it’d been forty minutes since she sent her last text. At first he figured she maybe stayed and talked for a little longer with Paisley, or stopped for some fast food which he knew she liked so much whenever she was upset, but when an entire hour passed by he was getting worried.

He kept sending her texts that didn’t even get delivered and when he tried to call it went straight to her voicemail. Harry was losing his shit so he decided to call Paisley to see if she knew anything about her.

“She hasn’t arrived home yet?” she asked, clearly surprised.

“No, and she is not answering my calls and texts. When did she leave from yours?”

“A long time ago. Almost right away when you texted her to go home.”

“Fuck,” Harry breathed out, anxiously pacing the floor as he held the phone to his ear. “Okay, can you please call your parents in case she went there for whatever reason? I’ll try her friends.”

“Yeah, sure. Let me know if you got a hold of her,” Paisley told him before they ended the call.

Harry was scrolling through his contacts, trying to decide who Maggie would go to first in this situation and just as he was about to call the first person, his phone started ringing with an unknown number.

“Hello?” he answered the call unsurely, his heart beating fast in his chest as he stood in the middle of the room.

“Mr. Harry Styles?” a male voice asked on the other end.

“Yes, it’s me. Who am I speaking to?”

“I’m Officer Field speaking. You were listed as the emergency contact for your wife, Margaret Linn Styles.”

Blood rushed out of Harry’s face faster than he could even process what was happening. He stood completely frozen, his hands were getting clammy as he started sweating as if he just ran the marathon.

“What happened?” he asked weakly, barely even finding his own voice.

“Mr. Styles, I have bad news…”

Harry makes his way down to the entertainment room, walking like a zombie, only thinking about the bottle of vodka that sits in the minibar down there. Following his skin burning shower he tried to go to bed, but his head was starting to spin from everything that’s been swirling in his mind and he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop it if he didn’t numb himself somehow. Unfortunately, his only way of doing it has been drinking, nothing seemed to help him the way alcohol did and though he knew he should never solve any of his problems with drinking, he still couldn’t help himself sometimes. When the pain was growing immensely, taking over his whole body, he chose the easiest way to get rid of the guilt or at least stop himself from… feeling.

Grabbing the bottle from the mini fridge he snatches himself a glass as well, not drinking straight from the bottle at least, and plopping himself down to the couch he pours a generous glass, drinking it without any chaser.

He winces as the alcohol burns down his throat, but at least it’s a different kind of pain, that takes the focus away from the one he is feeling in his chest.

One glass chases the other and since he is not particularly used to the heavy drinking, he is more like the ‘let’s nurse this pint for an hour’ type of guy, the raw vodka kicks in pretty quickly.

But he is not the only one who can’t fall asleep tonight.

You tried everything in your power to end your misery and finally fall asleep, but your mind and body was plotting against you and made you toss and turn until you couldn’t take it any longer. Making a good cup of tea seemed like a good idea, so you headed down the kitchen.

As you round the corner after the stairs and you’re about to walk into the kitchen, you notice how the lights are on down in the entertainment room. You stop in your tracks and try to think back if anyone was there before you went upstairs, but you don’t think it was the case.

You figure since there are only two adults living in the house, it must be Harry down there and right now, facing him doesn’t sound like a good idea, so you decide to leave him be, but that’s when you hear the voice of some kind of glass breaking, followed by a heavy accented cursing and it changes your mind right away.

“Harry?” you softly call out as you walk down the stairs, not sure what to expect down there. He is crouching down, his back in your direction as he is trying to get the pieces of the broken glass up from the floor, but he is too disoriented to succeed in the task and it’s obvious that an injury is deemed to happen sooner or later.

“Harry, you’re gonna cut yourself!” you warn him, and walking over to him you pull him up from his squatting position and when he looks at you is when you realize that he is drunk out of his mind.

“Y/N, oh shit, did I—Did I wake you up?” he slurs, knitting his eyebrows together as he tries to focus his vision on you.

“You didn’t, but let me just—Why don’t you sit down for a moment while I clean this up, huh?” you suggest, pulling him towards the couch, making him sit. He falls to the cushion like dead weight, letting out a tired sigh while you rush to get a broom and a dustpan to get rid of the broken glass on the floor as fast as possible before someone cuts themselves.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he breathes out closing his eyes.

“It’s okay. I’ll just clean it up quickly,” you assure him, getting down to business.

“Not about the g-glass. Well, about that as well…”

“Then why are you sorry?” you ask, as you sweep the shards onto the dustpan and throw them into the closest trashcan.

“About being… a pain in the ass,” he hiccups.

“You are not a pain in the ass,” you chuckle softly as you sit beside him.

“I am. I fucked things up,” he nods with a painful expression all over his handsome face.

“What do you mean?” You know you shouldn’t make him talk in this state, but you can’t help your curiosity. It seems like drunkenness makes his tongue run wild and you are desperate for the tiniest crumble of information about what’s going on in his head.

“I just… I kissed you,” he breathes out, his eyes popping open, but he is staring at the ceiling, not you.

“And?” you ask, trying to act cool, though your pulse is rapidly increasing.

“And I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Oh.” You lick your lips and try not to show how much that hurt. But even drunk, Harry notices the disappointment in your tone. His glassy eyes snap over to you and his face falls right away.

“That’s not how I mean it!” he gasps, reaching for your hand and you’re surprised by the sudden physical touch, but it feels kind of nice, so you let him hold your hand between his arm palms. “It’s not like I didn’t enjoy it, because fucking hell, it was amazing!” he bluntly tells you and you can already feel the heat crawling up your neck.

“Really?”

“Yes!”

“Then why did you tell me all of that in my room just earlier now?”

Harry pulls his hands back and moves his arms across his face, covering his eyes as he slides down the couch, his legs spreading out in front of him. He lets out a shaky whimper and seeing him like this worries you a lot. Harry is always in control, he has never let him fall apart like this before.

“Because… I don’t deserve to feel this way,” he confesses, confusing you even more. What is he talking about?

“Why wouldn’t you?”

He shakes his head under his arms, biting into his bottom lip as he inhales deeply, like he is trying to keep something inside, something you shouldn’t know about, but now you are desperate to find it out.

“I’m a fucking mess,” he breathes out, letting his arms fall to his sides, but he keeps his eyes closed, shutting you out in a way. “I don’t deserve to have these feelings,” he repeats again and it appears he is more likely talking to himself, rather than to you.

“Harry, what are you talking about?”

“I can’t tell you. I can’t tell you, because if I did, you’d never be able to look at me again.”

Now he is crying. Tears are rolling down his cheeks and his lips are trembling and you’ve never seen him in such a vulnerable state and quite frankly, it scares you. You knew him to be a strong and stable man, but now he resembles a frightened little boy, so lost in this big world.

“I’m pretty sure it’s not that bad, Harry.”

“It is,” he winces, as if it’s causing him physical pain to even talk about it.

“Harry…” You breathe out and moving closer you place a hand on his knee, giving it a gentle, reassuring squeeze. He turns to face you, his eyes all watered and glistening, he looks so heartbroken, it almost pains you as well.

“Promise me you won’t see me as a monster,” he whispers.

“I-I promise,” you nod, already bearing yourself for the worst, judging from the look on his face.

Taking a deep breath he looks around, as if he is making sure no one else is listening. Then his eyes fall down to his hands in his lap, he fidgets with his fingers, his tongue running along his pink lips before he takes a deep breath and speaks up again.

“Maggie’s death… It was all my fault. I fucking… killed my own wife.”

His voice dies down at the end of the sentence, staring into the void, completely zoned out as you sit beside him, shocked at his words. This was not exactly what you were expecting him to say. Harry starts sobbing again, the hot tears running down his cheeks as he starts crying and panic sets in you. He is so out of his own world, you have no idea what’s happening to him. Rushing over to the mini fridge, you grab a water for him, thinking it might help him at least after all the alcohol he has consumed.

“Here, drink some water,” you softly tell him, taking the cap off as you hand him the bottle. He takes it with a shaky hand and raising it to his trembling lips he takes a few small sips. “Harry, what do you mean it was your fault?” you ask, knowing well you probably shouldn’t push it, but you can’t just ignore what he said.

“Exactly what I said,” he sobs shaking his head vigorously. “It was all my fault, I was a fucking coward and that’s why she died! I could have stopped her! I should have gone after her!”

He is not answering you, not entirely. He is speaking thoughts that have been planted in his head a long time ago and they seem to be on repeat whenever he is feeling down. As much as you want to get more details out of him, he needs to rest, especially because he is working in the morning.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed, H,” you tell him as you stand up and reach out for him to help him to his unsteady feet. It turns out to be a little harder than you expected, but you manage to get him up from his sitting position, and throwing one of his arms over your shoulders you start to walk him up towards his bedroom.

“You fucking hate me now, don’t you?” he slurs, his other hand reaching out towards the wall to steady himself a little more.

“I don’t hate you, Harry.”

“But you think I’m a monster, right?”

“I’m not sure I know enough to think anything about you. This is a conversation we should have when you’re sober,” you suggest and he huffs.

“M’sorry for getting drunk in the middle of the night.”

“It’s alright. But I think you’ll have a mean headache in the morning,” you tease him as you finally reach the upstairs and head down the hallway towards his room.

“You’re a fucking angel, Y/N. You know that?” He just keeps talking and talking and you find it funny how different he is from his reserved and quiet self in this state.

“Am I?”

“Yeah. You are. You are so good to my daughter and to me as well… I really don’t get why your fucker ex cheated on you,” he huffs and you can’t help the smile that tugs on your lips. “What was his name? Kyle?”

“Keith,” you correct him.

“That fucker, Keith!” he spats making you laugh as you push his bedroom’s door open and walk him inside finally. “I bet he had a small dick.”

“Why does that matter,” you chuckle, making him sit on the edge of the bed.

“Because guys with small dicks are always out of touch with themselves. They think they are just better than everyone for some reason.”

“Do you have any scientific research to prove that?” you tease him as you push him down, tugging him under the covers, like a little kid.

“No, I just… know shit,” he sighs, his eyes falling closed the moment his head rests on the pillow.

“Alright. You can tell me more about what else you know when you’re sober. Now get some sleep, because you have work in the morning.”

You make sure he lies on his side as he hums his response. Reaching down you brush his messy curls out of his forehead as he breathes out harshly through his nose, probably about to fall asleep any moment.

Tapping on the screen of his phone on the nightstand you make sure that he has set up his alarm and you see the little alarm clock icon at the top bar so you are just about to walk out when you turn back around.

Seeing how he pushed so many things down inside of him, you’re not convinced he’ll be willing to give you the answers you are looking for. You’re afraid he might talk himself out and give you some kind of bullshit answer, so reaching for his phone you sneakily take his thumb and open the device, all whilst he doesn’t even move an inch.

Scrolling through his contacts you find Niall’s number and send it over to yourself before deleting the message so you leave no trail behind. You set the phone back to his nightstand and head out finally, going to bed as well, right after sending Niall a quick message.

Y/N: Hi! It’s Y/N, I got your number from Harry’s phone. Can you come by sometime tomorrow? I need to talk to you about something.

When you come down in the morning it’s pretty obvious that even though Harry had his alarm on, he snoozed one too many times and now he is in a rush, trying to get everything done and leave on time.

“Good morning,” you greet him and Izzy upon walking into the kitchen. Harry’s head snaps up from the half-made breakfast in front of him and judging by his expression, he more or less remembers what happened last night. “Rough morning?” you ask teasing him to ease the tension.

“Uh, yeah. Woke up a little late,” he nods, finishing up Izzy’s sandwich just the way she likes, without the crust on before handing it over to her. Izzy grabs the plate and marches over to the dining table, quietly munching on her food while Harry quickly tries to make himself a coffee, but he is a hot mess, still in his night clothes when he is supposed to leave in about ten minutes.

“I’ll make you the coffee, go and get changed,” you offer, taking over the machine.

“Oh, thank you,” he nods and for a change, he doesn’t try to argue with you, he just disappears upstairs.

You make his coffee just as he likes and leave it on the counter for him before joining Izzy at the table with your own breakfast. She is babbling about how excited she is for her piano lesson today, because she’s been practicing a lot lately. When Harry appears again he is dressed for work, but still looks a little disoriented.

“Hey,” you softly say as you join him in the kitchen.

“Hey, thank you for the coffee,” he nods, moving around the kitchen.

“No problem. How are you feeling?” you ask, hoping you’re not crossing any boundaries. Harry opens his mouth to answer, but then closes, probably not sure how much he should share, though he didn’t have too much problem with that last night.

“I’m… A little hangover, but I’m… fine,” he nods shortly. “Y/N, about last night, I—“

“We can talk about it later, okay? Don’t stress about it.” You give him a reassuring smile and you can tell he is sort of relieved he doesn’t have to have this conversation right in this moment.

“Thank you.”

“No worries. And I’ll clean up in the kitchen, don’t be late,” you smile at him warmly. You can tell he wants to protest, but he also knows he is running late so he doesn’t have much choice.

“Thank you, I’ll… see you later.”

Storming over to Izzy he presses a kiss to her forehead before grabbing all his stuff and leaving.

Niall texts you back not long after breakfast that he is free to drop by when Izzy is having her piano lesson. You carry on with the morning as usual, trying your best not to dwell on everything that happened last night.

Just as Rosaline and Izzy get settled for the lesson you hear a car pulling up outside and a few moments later the doorbell rings through the house.

“Let’s get one thing straight, is it a booty call?” Niall questions right away as you let him inside.

“It’s good to see you again,” you chuckle, shaking your head at him.

“So no sex is gonna be involved?” he smirks and you know he is just teasing you.

“No, sorry to disappoint.”

“Oh, you can never disappoint me, darling,” he winks at you before walking into the kitchen to serve himself a drink. “So why did you need to see me so desperately?”

“Well, I know I shouldn’t be discussing this with you first, but I feel like I need to know some basic information that Harry might not give me so I thought you could help me out.” Niall nods as he pours himself some soda and joins you at the kitchen island, sitting on the stool next to you. “I uhh—I need to ask how much Harry shared with you about… about me—and, um what—“

“Save the stuttering, I know you two kissed,” Niall cuts you off and you breathe out in relief that you don’t have to be the one breaking him the news.

“Oh, okay,” you nod with an awkward smile. “Yeah, so that happened. And last night he and I had this conversation how we should just keep our relationship professional and all that. We both went our own way but then later I found Harry down in the entertainment room, drunk and basically having a meltdown of some sort.”

“How drunk was he?” Niall asks, knitting his eyebrows together.

“Pretty drunk. He broke a glass and he was… crying and talking about a lot of stuff.” Niall takes your words in as he inhales deeply, just nodding for you to continue. “He started telling me how sorry he was for fucking things up and he was a mess, like a huge fucking mess. Then he told me about how he shouldn’t be feeling the way he does, because he doesn’t deserve it…”

“Jesus…” Niall shakes his head, probably already knowing where this is heading.

“And then he told me that his wife’s death was his fault. That was… pretty intense.”

“I can imagine.”

“I know I have to talk to him about it, but I’m really afraid he might shake it off, but it seems like he is having some serious issues and I wouldn’t want things to get out of hands. That’s why I thought I would talk to you, maybe you know what to do or how to approach him with such a sensitive subject.”

“Yeah, I get it. It’s nice of you for being so considerate,” Niall nods, scratching his chin. “Alright, I’ll tell you what I know, but please also let him tell you if he decides to share it with you.” You nod and turn all your attention to him. “I didn’t find this out until about two months after Maggie’s death, but apparently, the night she died they had a fight. Maggie had been nagging Harry to have another baby, but he wanted to wait a little longer, until Izzy is older so they don’t have two babies at the same time. Harry said they had another big fight about it, said some pretty nasty things to each other before Maggie just stormed out to go over to her sister’s. She made it there, but… never made it back home.”

A shiver runs down your spine at the thought of how devastating it must have been, losing your partner after an intense fight without ever making up.

“Understandably, Harry completely lost his shit. For weeks he was barely functioning and we all knew he was grieving, but we didn’t know that he was blaming himself for what happened. When he wasn’t getting any better we somehow convinced him to go to therapy which luckily helped him immensely, but he stopped going a while ago. I thought he got things straight in his head about this whole Maggie situation, but I guess he is still hung up on that.”

“What about the drinking, did that happen a lot?”

“Not that I know of. I mean, yeah, he got wasted quite a few times, but only at the beginning. I don’t think you should be afraid that he might turn into an alcoholic. I think he is just really struggling right now because of the conflict he is having because of you.”

“Because of me?”

“Yeah, he is clearly very confused about his feelings for you and he has convinced himself he shouldn’t feel this way towards anyone ever, but then you came,” he chuckles softly giving you a knowing look.

“Niall, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do,” you breathe out, worry and fear slowly taking over your judgment.

“First and foremost just… be patient with him, okay? This is genuinely the first time he has taken an interest in anyone since Maggie and I think he has already taken some big steps, which is a good sign. Try to talk to him and be open, but don’t push him. I know it can be really annoying when he keeps things, but let him tell you everything at his own pace.”

You nod, understanding the importance of not rushing Harry into anything. Just because you want to get over the awkwardness of the current situation, you can’t push him over his own boundaries.

“Okay, I’ll try to do that,” you nod taking a deep breath. “Thank you, Niall.”

“Oh, and don’t let him give you the ‘you work for me, we shouldn’t be doing this’ bullshit alright? He’ll try to make it out to be some kind of business, but it’s not. He needs to get himself out there and I genuinely think you’re the right person to help him with that.”

His words touch you and you’re not even sure how to react. Niall is clearly someone who stands close to Harry and if he thinks that you and him should give it a try, that must mean something. You can only hope that Harry will come around and think the same at one point.

Izzy gets a little fussy by the end of the day and it takes a lot of persuading to get her to bed in the evening. Harry arrived back home on his usual time and because it’s been such a hot day outside, he took her out to the pool. The problem with that is that Izzy never wants to get out of the water, so when Harry said it’s time for dinner she threw a bit of a tantrum as Harry brought her inside and her mood didn’t get any better later either.

You spent most of your night in the living room just watching TV and working on your laptop, updating your schedule for the upcoming weeks and doing some editing. Harry stays upstairs with Izzy for a long time when her bedtime comes and you figure she is still a little moody, but then you eventually hear his footsteps approaching. Harry pads his way into the living room and joins you on the couch. When you glance over at him you know he is trying to find a way to start the conversation you both know you need to have, so you put your laptop aside and turn your attention towards him.

“Y/N, I’m really sorry about last night. I’m honestly so terribly ashamed you had to… see me like that,” he starts, clearly nervous to bring it all up.

“It’s fine, happens to everyone,” you assure him and it’s the genuine truth.

“It’s not a regular occurrence, really. I usually know my limits and try to stay within them. I’m really sorry for making you uncomfortable.”

“Harry, don’t worry about it,” you tell him again with a warm smile. “We can get past it. I think what we really should talk about is… what you said. Do you remember what we talked about?” you carefully ask.

“I do…” he nods, awkward diverting his eyes away from you. “I’m sorry I told you all that in that state, I didn’t… I didn’t mean to just pour it all on you so suddenly.”

“It’s alright.” “No, it’s not,” he protests shaking his head. “I dropped a bomb on you because I couldn’t deal with my own problems the right way, and it’s not okay. So please, just… accept my apology.”

“Okay, I accept it,” you nod.

“And about the whole thing with… What I told you about Maggie…”

“Just know that you don’t have to talk about it now if you don’t want to. I’m happy to listen whenever you are ready to, but I’m not trying to push you.”

“I know and thank you for that, but I feel like… I owe you an explanation,” he admits and you nod, happy that he is willing to talk instead of closing himself off entirely. “The day Maggie died, we got into this huge fight and she ran off to her sister. It was… a whole mess, we both said things we clearly didn’t mean and I texted her, tried to get her to come home so we could talk things out. That’s when… she was on her way home when it happened and… I still feel like it was my fault.” His voice dies down at the end, just like it did last night when he was talking about her. It clearly left a deep scar on him that’s still not entirely healed and you can’t blame him.

“Everyone keeps telling me that it wasn’t, that it was just all one big coincidence, but all I can think about is that she would still be here if we didn’t get into the fight and I didn’t piss her off so much she felt the need to leave.”

“There was no way for you to see what would happen, Harry. It’s not like you did it on purpose, you had no power over the drunk driver or where Maggie chose to drive home. It really was a coincidence.”

“I know, I mean… I understand, but somehow, my mind keeps telling me that it was my fault.”

“Have you thought about… getting professional help?” you ask, trying to be polite and cautious on the topic.

“Actually, I just called my therapist today to see if… she can fit me in for some sessions,” he admits and you’re surprised at how great he is dealing with the matter. “I feel like I might need some guidance again, before things get out of my hands.”

“That’s great! It really is good to go a bit ahead of problems.”

“Yeah. About us…” he exhales nervously, his eyes meeting yours and you can tell this is the part that’s got him the most anxious. You take this as your queue to take over the conversation.

“Harry, I’m going to be honest with you,” you start and he nods, chewing on his bottom lip. “I… I have feelings for you. You haven’t been the only one making realizations,” you add with a soft chuckle, that brings a smile to his lips as well. “I know that the situation is not quite ideal, but it’s not impossible. But I just want you to be honest with me, do you have feelings for me?”

The conflict is clearer than daylight in his eyes as he is trying to figure out what to say and you really hope he isn’t gonna try to mask his feelings.

“I do,” he then admits and it’s like a giant rock has been lifted off your chest and shoulders. “It’s just… I’m not sure how to deal with it.”

“That’s alright,” you tell him. “Let’s just… take it slow. We’re not in a rush, we obviously have a lot to figure out and that’s completely fine. The pace is completely up to you, I know that you need to get a lot of things straight in your head and I can wait, okay? I’m not going anywhere, I really like where we are now and… I just hope that we can move this forward whenever you feel comfortable with it.”

Harry stares back at you for a moment like you’re some alien creature. Like what you just said wasn’t normal or even human and that’s quite heartbreaking, because somewhere along the way he managed to convince himself that he is not worthy of the most basic decency.

“I-I can’t ask you to wait around while I figure my shit out, that’s not—“

“You’re not asking me, Harry,” you smile at him softly. “This is my decision.”

His eyes are shifting between yours and he is most likely looking for any sign of doubt or qualm, but there’s none, you genuinely meant everything you said.

“So, where does this leave us?” he then asks and you shrug your shoulders.

“Everything goes on like it used to and… whenever you are ready to take a step, just… let me know.”

You can tell he is filled with questions, but he just nods with a weak smile and leaves it at that. This will be a bumpy ride, but at least you are more or less on the same page now.

You haven’t been a big fan of birthday celebrations. You just never understood the big fuss about it, throwing a party for surviving another year? Seems a little weird. This is why you never treated this day any different.

The morning starts off as usual, only that you wake up to a few texts from friends and family, wishing you a happy birthday. Your mom has sent you a whole damn paragraph about how you made her life complete and it wouldn’t be the same without you in it. She does that every time, gets a little too sentimental about it, but you guess it’s because it reminds her of getting old herself as well, which is a sensitive topic in her book these days.

It’s a Sunday, so a day off for you. Coming downstairs you find Izzy and Harry sitting at the dining table, already having their breakfast as usual, but when she sees you, she jumps in her seat in excitement.

“Good morning, Y/N!” she beams with a wide smile, buzzing more than she usually does.

“Morning, Sunshine. Slept well?” you ask as you pour yourself some cereal and join them at the table. Izzy nods and then peeks at her father as if she is trying to hide something with him from you.

“Daddy, can we do it now?” she asks in a whisper, but it’s not quiet enough for you to not hear it.

Your eyes lock with Harry’s over the table and the butterflies in your stomach start dancing around right away when you see the tiny smirk tugging on his lips.

It’s been almost an entire week since your conversation with him and things finally seem to get in place for now. Harry had his first session with his therapist on Wednesday and though you can tell he is still trying to find his own boundaries, he doesn’t worry as much about the situation as he probably did before. He isn’t walking on eggshells around you, unsure how to act. More or less it’s the same as it was before the kiss, but there are tiny little things that still make it different. Stolen glances, lingering touches and sweet smiles are making your days more colorful now and it’s gotten you all giddy and… happy.

“What are you two plotting, huh?” you ask, pointing at them with your spoon before digging into the cereal. Izzy glances at Harry one last time and when he nods shortly, she turns to you and throws her arms in the air.

“Happy birthday, Y/N!” she cheers as Harry reaches over to the chair next to him and pulls up a box from under the table, handing it over to Izzy so she could give it to you. “This is for you!”

“You shouldn’t have gotten me anything!” you gasp, truly surprised by the gift. You were not expecting it at all.

“It’s not a birthday without gifts!” she giggles excitedly as she hands the box over. You push your cereal bowl to the side and set the gift to the table in front of you. “Open it!” she urges you, her little hands curled into fists as she watches your every move, as if it was her who just got a present.

Your eyes meet Harry’s green ones over the table once more and he is watching you with a small smile, probably enjoying that he could surprise you.

You pull on the bow on the top and then carefully take the wrapping paper off until the box is revealed underneath and you gas as soon as you realize what this is.

“Oh my God!” you breathe out in disbelief as you take a better look at the gift. Harry didn’t just get you something, he actually listened to what you were saying and remembered that you’re a big fan of oldschool cameras and you have a special love for polaroids. And now, in front of you in the box is your very own polaroid camera, something you’ve been really wanting to buy for yourself for a long time, but you just never got around to actually do it.

“Do you like it? Daddy said you’d really like it!” Izzy asks with big eyes, watching your reaction.

“Oh, I love it!” you breathe out, feeling all mushy and melted from the gesture. Izzy climbs over to your lap, hugging your neck. You wrap your arms around her in a bone crushing hug and you’re so thankful for having them both in your life.

Izzy sits on your lap as you get the camera out of the box and figure out how to work it. She then hops off your lap and poses for the first ever picture taken with your new favorite camera.

“But it’s blank!” she furrows her eyebrows when the photo comes out.

“Because you have to wait for it to develop. It’ll show up in a few minutes,” you smile, setting the photo down on the table.

Izzy sits in her seat, excitedly waiting for the photo to develop and in the meanwhile you join Harry in the kitchen where he is washing the dishes. He spots you and turns the tap off, turning to face you as he dries his hands off.

“You shouldn’t have gotten me anything,” you tell him softly, but really feel touched by the gesture.

“No, but I wanted to. Do you really like it?”

“I love it!” you chuckle in disbelief. How could he think you wouldn’t like it?!

You move forward, aiming for a hug out of instinct but then stop yourself, not wanting to cross any boundaries, but Harry notices the motion and for your surprise, he wraps you in a warm hug on his own. You melt against his hard chest, your nose buried into his shoulder as your arms circle around his waist.

When you lean back, you both keep your arms around each other, eyes meeting and you realize just how close you are to each other. Without even knowing, your gaze flickers down to his lips and you’re dying to kiss him, to feel them again, but you don’t move, wanting to keep your word about letting him set the pace.

But what you didn’t expect is Harry leaning down and capturing your lips in a sweet, innocent kiss. It’s so different from the last time, that was a hot mess, but this one… this is light as a feather but still makes your stomach somersault as you taste his lips, cupping his face in your hands.

“Daddy! I’m thirsty!” Izzy calls out from outside and it kind of ends the moment. Harry pulls back and when you look at him you see that his eyes are still closed. They flutter open a moment later, finding your gaze and you look for any kind of regret or fear in them, but they are nothing but shiny.

“Just a moment, baby!” he answers her, a small smile tugging on his lips as he leans down and pecks the corner of your mouth again before his hands fall from your waist. “Happy birthday, Y/N,” he breathes out before grabbing a bottled water and heading back to Izzy.

You bring your fingertips to your tingling lips as you take a moment to really process what just happened and you can’t push down the smile that spreads across your face. Harry finally took the first step and now you can’t wait to see what’s coming next.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

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#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles au #harry styles imagine #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fluff #harry styles series #ceo!harry #dad!harry #to love and be loved series

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runtedfiction · 3 years

Text

nothing

day 6: abnormality @zelinkweek2021

ao3

AN: inspired by this lovely artwork from @eerna. it's so good that it's seared into my personal canon. (also, day 7 will be egregiously late, so i'll prob post it as its own thing)

* * *

The aftermath of the Spring of Power.

* * *

“What’s wrong with me?”

When she asks it, she doesn’t expect to hear anything, just like always. But still, she can’t help but stare into the stupid statue’s eyes and hope for something to happen. She stares and stares until the water begins to feel almost warm. Until Link appears in the periphery of her vision.

“Princess, your fingers are purple.”

When he helps her out of the spring, she isn’t shivering--she’s cried so hard that she doesn't have energy for anything else. He wraps a cloak around her, his brow the most furrowed she’s ever seen. She barely has the energy to thank him, let alone walk. After she nearly trips for the third time on the way back to their campsite, he stops.

“Can--” he stumbles over his words. Even lifting her head to look at him makes her tired. “Can I carry you?”

“Yes. Please.” She just wants to be somewhere warm. The chill is coming back, and this time it’s deeper than it’s ever been.

He places one arm beneath her legs, and one behind her back.

Perhaps in another life, she would have blushed while her handsome knight carried her, bridal style, to their lodgings for the night. In another life, she would’ve taken this opportunity to loop her arms around his neck and bury her face in his neck.

In this one, as soon as her body doesn’t have to work to move, she passes out.

* * *

She wakes up shortly after he places her down to the sound of the kettle whistling. She couldn’t have been asleep for more than twenty minutes, and she would fall back asleep instantly if her dress weren’t still so cold. Link’s moved her bedroll as close as it can be to the fire. She closes her eyes to soak in the heat on her cheeks.

“I’m making tea,” he says.

“Thank you.”

“You should change.”

“Ok.” She closes her eyes for a bit more. It isn’t so bad now that her face is warm. She can almost ignore the fact that the rest of her body feels like the Biron Snowshelf, and if she focuses on the fire and its crackle it sounds so soothing, and—

“Princess,” he says gently. “You should change.”

Zelda rubs her eyes and sits up. “You’re right.”

In the tent, she shivers as she peels off her dress. Link also laid out a towel, and she runs it over her body as quickly as she can considering her hands hurt like hell. She focuses on getting her Rito set as quickly as possible.

When she walks out to sit next to him, he has a mug of tea and a second cloak ready.

“Here.” He drapes it over her shoulders, and hands her the steaming mug. She estimates she’s feeling one tenth of how hot the metal actually is as she wraps her hands around it.

“Thank you.”

Slowly, the unbearable chill defrosts. She takes a sip of the tea.

“Mm,” she says to break the silence. Now that the fog in her brain is also clearing, it’s easy to remember that she cried in front of him for the better part of an hour. She’s too tired to be embarrassed, but still. “This is good. What is it?”

He doesn’t look up from polishing his sword. “Oolong. Decaf.”

“Fancy,” she says.

He nods.

“Did you know,” she says, after a beat, “that oolong is one of the most difficult teas to produce? Some say it’s similar to making fine wine.”

He doesn’t say anything; it seems like there’s a spot of rust or monster gunk that’s particularly to get off. But she’s used to his silence by this point--if anything, now that she’s gotten him to open up, it’s strange when he does respond. It’s easy to keep talking.

“Excluding external factors like the mountain you’re on and that year’s weather conditions, there are millions of small things you can do to vary the flavor. You need to choose a specific variety to grow, how long you want it to oxidize for, and in the case of decaf, you need to expose the moistened tea leaves to pressurized carbon dioxide.”

She looks into the fire. “But, there’s one thing all oolong producers need to do--you need to let it wilt in the sun. Once you pick the plant, this living thing that you’ve cultivated and cherished and killed, you need to find a day with strong sun. You need to let it wilt.”

She doesn’t know exactly where she’s going with this (just that it fills her with rage when she thinks about how her father couldn’t care less if she froze to death today), so she stops.

“Mm,” he says after an inappropriately long amount of time. “Interesting.”

She almost smiles. “You’re lying.”

He looks at her. “What?”

“Nothing.”

They sit in a comfortable silence for a while more. When he puts in the last of the firewood, he speaks first.

“Are you ok?”

“What?”

He looks at her. His brow is furrowed again. “Are you ok?”

The question is so simple, so genuine, that it stabs at her.

“Sorry,” she says, wiping at her cheeks when the tears come. “Sorry, I’ll stop.”

“It’s ok.”

He looks back into the fire again, and waits patiently.

“To be honest,” she says with a sigh once she’s done composing herself. “I don’t think things are going too well.”

“We have time.”

He looks so calm, despite the fact that there’s only one more spring and time is running out. And sure, they have the Champions and the Divine Beasts and the Guardians, but Zelda knows that their odds of survival would increase exponentially with her.

“Yes,” she agrees, “but it isn’t enough. And this isn’t--this can’t be normal.”

“What can’t be?”

“Not hearing anything. Not feeling anything, even when all I do is pray.” She hopes she doesn’t sound too bitter.

He looks back into the fire. “Nothing’s wrong with you.”

Again, for someone who normally says nothing, it’s impressive how his words cut into her like a knife. This time she swallows the lump in her throat. She can’t cry in front of him for a third time.

“Oh,” she says, in her worst impression of casualness, “so you were listening earlier?”

“Sorry.”

She smiles a little to try and put him at ease. It doesn’t look like it’s working, especially since he’s still avoiding eye contact. “You mean to tell me you aren’t listening all the time?”

“Well this one,” he says, then pauses. She wonders if he’s also remembering how broken her voice was (“What’s wrong with me?”). “This one sounded a bit different.”

“It was,” she says, choosing to not say, “I fear I will cause the apocalypse.”

He looks over at her. She doesn’t know if she wants him to tell her if everything will be ok, or if she just wants a hug.

It’s her turn to stumble over her words. “Can--can I put my head on your shoulder?”

He looks surprised, but who is a knight to refuse his princess? (And secretly, she has a feeling he’d go to the ends of the world for her.) “Sure.”

Very gingerly, she places her head on his shoulder. He doesn’t say anything. They watch the fire die down to glowing embers.

* * *

It’s hard for her to fall asleep, even when the fire is out and she’s so toasty it’s easy to forget what she felt like just a few hours ago.

She keeps playing his words over and over in her head. Nothing’s wrong with you.

Link is solid and warm and an anchor. A reminder that underneath the legends and lifetimes and lore, there’s another story here. It involves a boy and a girl, a princess and her knight.

The princess knows that she’s in love with her knight. She knows she might end the world.

“I’m sorry,” Zelda whispers.

Link shakes his head. “Don’t be.”

#zelink week 2021 #zelink fanfiction #zelink

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lovelybarnes · 3 years

Text

saudade- l. laufeyson

pairings: loki laufeyson x reader, mentions of other loki characters warnings: loki tv show spoilers, probably tva inaccuracies, mobius being trusted even though i don’t actually trust him lol, mentions of death, tears, a little sad angst but happy ending, ooc characters?? possible mistakes because i can't read this again skjfj about: requested, DF26 with TVA Loki running into the variant of his dead spouse a/n: thank you so much for requesting! i loved writing the last scene so much

loki has narrowly avoided the tva for years, opportunities much better than this and chaos a lot more chaotic than this have already been caused and passed. so the how and why he has been taken in at this very moment- while he’s eating at one of those fast food places you used to like- is very, very unknown to him. he should know, however; you’ve explained to him the tired concept of time traveling many times before, although the most important things were told to him when he thought you a mere mortal like the rest- something you were not- and could not possibly know something he didn’t- also something very untrue.

but the reasoning for his capturing is not at the front of his mind- although close- his main objective staying on how to get out of this unknown place and go back to looking for you- whether the fragile fabrics of reality and string of the timeline fray and break or don’t. he knows it possible, having seen the avengers do something similar, so why can a god like him not?

he’s ripped many holes, and he supposes the consequences for them are finally catching up to him, a lot sooner than he’d like. in another world, he’d already have you, and, with you by his side, you both would’ve been out long before, or never captured at all. although, he supposes, in a perfect world, you never would have been taken away from him in the first place.

he knows stopping for food he didn’t even necessarily need- or, really, like- was not a smart decision. he’s realizing exactly how not-smart of a decision it was with every passing second that the fools in armor drag him along the halls. the stop wasn’t needed, much less planned, but the memories the greasy food and dirty restaurant brought were too pleasant- a break full of you in the nonstop mission to find you. he could nearly feel your fingers touching his, hear your voice urging him to at least try and your bubbled laugh when he cringes. the fizz of the soda had made him grimace like the first time, except there was no you to giggle at it.

loki nearly thinks it was worth it. nearly.

when the guard shoves him into another room, loki takes a second to examine the exits, barely noticing the man at the desk. the person next to him pushes him further, dropping the tesseract and various stolen pym particles on the desk. loki takes note of where the man puts them so he can steal them back.

the guard stops with him in front of a small elevator, pulling a lever and waiting. loki looks at them, “where am i? get me back right now, i have things i must attend to.” the guard only looks at him, and loki scoffs, “i am loki of asgard, god of mischief and trickery, believe me when i say there will be deadly consequences if you do not do what i ask.”

the guard huffs a small laugh, “i’ve heard that before. we’ll see.”

the doors in front of him part, opening to a room he’s rammed into. he looks back the guard, one foot already out when he’s suddenly back where he was, watching as the entrance closes. he senses the machine before he can have a good look at it, a claw that he’s seen too many variations of beginning to poke at the fabric on his shoulders. he swats it away, standing tall as he glares at the smiling machine. “absolutely not! this is high tech armor, only few of this exists.”

the tech on the machine turns the grin into a frown, pulling back the talons and instead extending another apparatus that scans at his clothing, removing them with a yellow glow until he’s completely bare. he looks down at himself before looking back up at the face, pointing a finger, “now what-”

his words are cut off when he falls through the opening ground, falling onto the bottom room, now dressed in an uncomfortable tan jumpsuit, orange letters reading TVA on the left breast. a bored man in front of him pushes a pile of papers to him, “please sign to verify this is everything you’ve ever said.”

loki ignores his words, pushing it back, “i need to find someone, stop the absurdity.” the man only blinks as a machine whirrs, printing a piece of paper he reaches over to take and place on top of the pile. he hands loki a pen, “sign that too.” loki frowns, “did you not hear me? i have important things to do.” the machine does it again, and the man repeats his motions and shakes the pen in his hand. “that, too.” the god only sighs in frustration and signs, slamming the pen down before he’s dropped again.

another man greets him in a monotone, not even looking at him while he reads off the clipboard in his hands, “please confirm to your knowledge that you are not a fully robotic being, were born an organic creature, and do in fact possess what many cultures would call a soul.” loki’s eyebrows furrow, “i’m not a robot- how many people don’t know?”

“thank you for confirming, move through,” he requests. loki glances at the machine in front of him before stepping through it, a small picture printing after he’s on the other side. loki catches vibrant orange and red with hints of green that overcome any other color. “through the door, please.”

he encounters the same guard from before with a frustrated glare, leading him to what looks like a courtroom, a woman sitting in the middle, reading off a file. “variant L4293, aka loki laufeyson-l/n, is charged with sequence violation 7-20-89. how do you plead?” loki tilts his head at her, “madam, a god- i don’t plead.”

the woman sighs tiredly, “are you guilty or not guilty?” loki’s eyes thin as he observes her. “guilty of… trying to find my wife, yes. guilty of being extremely frustrated, yes. guilty of whatever it is you’re accusing me of, no. not guilty.” loki’s hand curls, trying to use his abilities inconspicuously but dismayed to not be able to. he tries again, only to come up empty as he realizes what is happening. “magic powers are no good in the tva, mister laufeyson,” the judge says absentmindedly. “i prefer l/n,” loki diverts simply, unknowingly catching the attention of one of the attendees. the judge barely acknowledges him, about to say something else before a man jumps up, hand raised, “wait, wait- uh, i have something to add to this. before the court makes a decision.”

the judge tilts her head at the man, pursing her lips before sighing and letting him approach the bench. loki leans in to try to understand the whispers that are exchanged, ending in the judge sending one last look his way before letting him go. “the court finds you innocent- and under agent mobius’ responsibility,” she clarifies, looking at the man and watching him nod quickly. she slams her gavel and motions for the man- mobius, he assumes, to take loki. he stands and awkwardly bows, before going over to loki and raising an eyebrow, “don’t betray me,” he says, words too true to be something playful. loki’s head tilts to the side in slight confusion, watching as the man begins to walk, pausing to urge loki to follow him.

loki ignores the activity through the windows of the hall, choosing to concentrate on mobius. “why did you do that?” he wonders aloud, suspicious eyes following him as his head peeks into halls. “let’s just say it’s a favor, although you’ll be on thin ice forever.”

“favor for whom?” mobius doesn’t answer, turning a corner. loki exhales sharply before following him, continuing to pry as he briefly heeds his surroundings. the sight of a woman in a suit much like mobius’ catches his eye, her back to him but he recognizes the shape of her shoulder and the color of her hair. he looks away, pretending to concentrate on the clock thing on the television but actually chasing the overfamiliar features to a face.

the sound of your voice- something he hasn’t heard in an obscenely long time- craved for so much longer it seems like a lifetime, snaps his attention to what surely must be a cruel joke. he can tell it’s you now. you’re standing there, head tilted at the same receptionist man and chuckling exasperatedly, “come on, casey, we’ve been over this. a fish and a lion are not the same thing-”

“but a lionfish-?” casey asks, and loki is pushing away the guards already, because you’re there, you’re solid and laughing like you used to and you can’t not be real. he can distantly hear mobius’ voice telling the guards to let him go as if loki hasn’t already taken care of that, walking over to you with quick and quiet footsteps. his fingers circle around your wrist first as an assurance, and when you turn, hand still in his, eyes widening when you notice who he is, he pulls you into him completely. your arms wrap around him barely seconds later, finally registering the person in front of you as you squeeze him. “loki?” you whisper, inhaling the same familiar scent of him that you haven’t had in what seems like forever.

“i missed you so much,” he says, hands wandering over your back, touching your arms and your shoulders and your hips just to touch you. “me too- i didn’t- i thought i would never see you again.” your tears are falling on the fabric of his jumpsuit, small tearful gasps escaping your lips while you tug him as close as you can, tangling your fingers in his hair and shutting your eyes at the familiar feeling. “oh god, you’re here-”

“i missed you so much,” he repeats, and you finally notice his words, realization like electricity, making you tremble and sigh softly. “what does that mean?” you question, already fearing the answer and already knowing the effects: the mess of his usually kept hair and the red tint of his eyes, like a sheen of sadness that stains the color of the eyes you have missed for so long. loki pulls away from you only to look at your face, trace the shape of the lips he’d spent hours of the morning pressing kisses to, memorize the curve of the nose you’d scrunch in a laugh when thor was a victim to one of his tricks.

“i have been looking for you, darling,” he murmurs, fingers running over your fallen tears while you notice the shine of his eyes, the tears that enhance the love he has for you. “because i’m…” you don’t want to finish your sentence, and you can tell loki doesn’t want you to either; he scans your features, small smile peeking through the shock and grief.

“i didn’t… mobius didn’t show me that, i thought-” your eyes flicker to the man before settling back on loki, the weight of the ring he’d given you feeling lighter now that it had found its pair. the various eyes on you don’t go unnoticed, and neither does the look mobius sends to the rest of the workers, indicating for them to go back to work. the cold of loki’s skin is comforting to the touch of your warmth, and you find yourself back in the summer afternoons where you would settle with your husband to read books, rubbing cool fingers on the hot of your skin when you felt suffocated by the heat of the sun.

another tear slips from your eyes when you realize you don’t have to imagine anymore, there’s no need to search for your memories and shut your eyes for them to run over you. your lips are on his when you can’t help it anymore, eyes squeezed close and salty tears dropping from your chin when it finally settles that he’s here and he’s yours and he’ll never be gone again.

he’ll make sure of that.

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zafirosreverie · 3 years

Note

Hi could I pls get a part 2 to slippery little spider definitely one of my fav Agatha stories x

Sorry it took me so long, dear! But here it is (Please forgive me ;-;)

Slippery little spider (Agatha x Reader) part 2

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit

You swung to dodge a fireball aimed directly at your head, while Peter shot the monster in front of you.

"Dragons, why does it always have to be dragons?!" Thought.

"Hey, Y/N!" you heard Peter from your suit's communicator "Are you okay?"

"As good as I can while fighting a fucking dragon, Parker" you growled

"Yes ... that's what I meant. You seem in a bad mood."

"Did you expect me to smile and sing while I try to avoid being burned alive?" you sighed

"No, but you usually make jokes and you seem more cheerful. In fact, now that I think about it, you seemed upset when you were assigned as my partner on this mission."

You sighed again. It was true, you were quite upset when Strange told you that you should go with Parker, since your powers would be the most useful (useful? Two spiders against a dragon?! Strange needs to stop watching movies). You had objected, but since you couldn't come up with a convincing enough excuse, you had to come anyway.

In your defense, how were you supposed to explain that you had a date? Even more than that, how were you supposed to explain that you had a date, with a villain? EVEN more, with Agatha Harkness of all villains ?! You were sure that Strange would lock you up in a psychiatrist if he found out (that's if Wanda and Monica didn't murder you first).

So here you were, fighting a fucking dragon, with just another spider for reinforcement, and a deep desire to be in a little store in a small town, "saving" hostages and blushing at the flirtation of a certain witch. Too bad we don't always have what we want, right?

Just when you were thinking about it, you felt a strong blow to your back and a strong pressure around your torso. The creature had caught you with one of its claws. Dammit.

"Y/N!!" You heard Peter scream from somewhere behind you.

You gasped when the dragon opened its mouth and pulled you closer to it, ready to eat you. You closed your, resigned. Well, you guessed there were worse ways to die. At least it would be an epic death, not everyone could put "dead in battle against a dragon" as an epitaph.

“Hands off!” Another voice said and when you opened your eyes, you saw a purple smoke surrounding the monster “Take the other spider if you want, dear, but this one’s mine”

You saw how the dragon’s eyes turned purple before it released you, but you were still floating. You turned to see Agatha right behind you. The witch smirked and pulled you closer to her, so that your face was inches from hers.

“I’ve gotta admit that being replaced with a dragon is quite offensive, love” she joked and you couldn’t help but smile

“Sorry, I guess a couple of volunteer hostages aren't as important to Strange as a dragon in the middle of the city” you said

“Strange” she scoffed "I must have guessed. Typical of him ruining my plans before midnight" she sighed and caressed your cheek with a pout

“If your hostages don’t mind, I’m free tomorrow” you whispered, making her chuckle

“I’m sure they won’t” she smirked “Then let me make sure this guy is gone for good” she said and opened a portal under the dragon. You just heard it’s roar before she closed it and that was all.

“Thank you” you said as she carefully put you on the floor

“Don’t mention it, love, i have a reputation” she winked and you giggled

“My lips are closed” you promised and she wrapped her arms around your waist

“I have better ideas to make sure they are” she smirked bringing her face close to yours

You smiled and brushed your lips against hers, making her close her eyes. But you had made a promise. So you pushed her away gently, giggling when she frowned.

“Thank you again for your help, but if you excuse me, I have to go. You see, I have to rescue some hostages tomorrow from the wicked witch of the west” you joked “Have a good night, Ms Harkness” you winked and swung away from there. Leaving a very frustrated Agatha and a very confused Peter behind.

___________

It seemed that the universe (and Strange) didn’t think you deserved a rest.

It had been a week since the dragon incident and you couldn’t go to that damned store yet! Missions kept coming and they were too close between one and the other, you could barely rest a few hours before they called you back to battle. You were tired and frustrated.

“Focus, Y/N” you heard Wanda’s voice behind you and you rolled your eyes.

You loved her, you really did! But she was getting more and more annoying as she and Strange unlocked more of her powers. Nowadays, it seemed like the sorcerer wanted the witch to be the one in charge in every single mission. That wasn’t that bad, she cared for all of you and always tried to be the main target so you wouldn’t get hurt. But she also acted like she did all the hard work, leaving the rest of you in the shadows.

You weren’t sure if it was her fault or Strange’s, giving that he was always praising her and her abilities, but it didn’t matter. You were tired of them all. And to be honest, you couldn’t make the guilt disappear. You felt guilty for leaving Agatha like that. If you had known that you wouldn’t be able to keep your promise, you would have kissed her that night. Hell, you’d probably even do more than just kiss (if she wanted to).

“Y/N! FOCUS” Wanda yelled again

“Y/L/N” Strange’s voice came behind you. When you turned to him, you saw he was frowning “I asked you to come here to help, but if you’re just going to get in the way, I’ll have to ask you to leave”

That was all. You snapped.

“Get in the way?!” you asked in disbelief “I am the one keeping that thing from destroying the city! Those are MY webs! Those scars on that thing? I made them! I AM THE ONE ACTUALLY FIGHTING WHILE YOU TWO JUST FLY AROUND AND MAKING JOKES WITH EACH OTHER” you yelled “You know what? Fuck you! I’m out!”

You didn’t even hear their responses as you swung away as quickly as you could. Your vision blurred as tears began to fill your eyes. You knew you screwed up. The sanctuary was your only home and you weren't sure Strange would let you return after speaking to him like that. But you were so tired, both physically and mentally.

You didn't really think about where you were going, but your subconscious seemed to. You sniffed and smiled against your will when you realized you were at the entrance to your little town.

You landed in front of the promised store, which still had the lights on and you could see the people inside talking and laughing and looking so normal. It seems that today was not hostage day.

"Hey" someone said behind you.

"Why do they always have to come from behind?" you thought as you turned around. You smiled when you saw the boy from the other night.

"Hi" you said

"Long time no see you" he joked "We were starting to think that you had changed us for another town"

"Never" laughed "The universe just wouldn't let me come sooner"

"You should have given the middle finger to the universe then" he laughed.

His laughter was contagious and his humor was a nice change from the atmosphere you had shared with your team the last week. You even had a fight with Peter a few days ago.

"I guess the hostages managed to escape on their own, huh?" you joked

"Well, it's easy when your captor can be bribed with chocolates."

Chocolates? Agatha likes chocolates? Interesting. You would save that information for later, perhaps as an apology.

"She looked disappointed when you didn't show up" the boy said suddenly. He gave you a sad smile and you felt guilt work its way back into your stomach.

"I'm sorry" you said

"It's not me who you need to apologize to"

"I know, but it's not like I can call her and apologize. Besides, what am I supposed to say? 'Sorry for not coming to rescue the hostages you kidnapped'?" you sighed.

"Well ... I think I have an idea" he said and you raised an eyebrow.

__________

Of all the things she thought she’d find when she arrived at the store, this wasn’t on the list. To be honest, you didn’t either.

Agatha blinked when she found you tied up with your own webs in the middle of the store. You looked embarrassed and your face was uncovered, finally giving the witch a chance to see your face. And lord were you beautiful. Too much, if the blush that adorned her cheeks was any indication.

"What's going on?" she asked, walking towards you

"Let's say the hostages decided they wouldn't wait for the villain, so they did your job, love" you winked.

This change of roles felt strange. You never thought you 'd be the one to flirt, or that Agatha would be the one to blush, but here you were, and she was fucking cute when she was nervous.

"My lady" Nick, the boy who had planned everything, came out from behind a shelf and smirked "On behalf of all the town, we offer you this sacrifice as an offer of peace"

Agatha blinked for a second, before letting out a laugh, which was quickly followed by yours and Nick's.

"And I thought I wasn't worth of your time, love" she smiled at you

"Let's just say, I learned that Strange and Maximoff are the ones who are not worth it" you answered

"Strange and Maximoff?" she frowned and crossed her arms "No, wait. Hang on a minute. They are your arch enemies now? I'll scratch their eyes out."

You laughed at that, she looked adorable that jealous.

"They could never replace you" you assured her "So, I hope I am a worthy sacrifice"

"Oh, we'll see, love" she smiled maliciously, sitting on your lap and snaking an arm around your neck to bring your face close to hers "I hope you don't run away this time, you slippery little spider"

She claimed your lips with hers.

You shook your head, brushing your lips with hers. For a moment, Agatha was worried that you would retreat again. When she noticed that your pause was to give her the opportunity to get away, she smiled and finally, did what she had wanted from the first time she saw you.

You ignored the applause and congratulations around you, lost in the sensation of her lips against yours and her hands running down your sides.

"I think we have a winner" you whispered against her mouth when she broke the kiss.

You didn't know if you meant the town's bet, or yourself, but as she leaned in to kiss you again, you decided that you didn't really care.

#x reader #reader insert #imagine #agatha harkness #agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness imagine #agatha harkness x y/n #agnes x reader #agatha harkness x you #request

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dessarious · 3 years

Text

How the Sirens Adopted a Ladybug Pt1

So when I was writing the last chapter of How to Not Get a Date it went full blown angst. Since that wasn’t what I wanted for that story and rewrote the chapter that I posted but the other idea decided to blow up into yet another story so here we go again.

AO3 Next

“I don’t suppose I could convince you not to steal that?” Catwoman spun around to find a girl in what looked like a dark red armored suit with black spots. In the Louvre at two in the morning. What the hell?

“And just what are you supposed to be?” The girl just gave her a sardonic smile and Catwoman couldn’t help but notice how tired she looked.

“I’m Ladybug. Hero of Paris.” The sarcastic tone was unexpected and it took her a minute to actually process the words.

“Since when does Paris have Heroes?”

“Since some megalomaniac found a Miraculous and decided to use it for his own selfish desires. If not for the fact that he targets people with strong negative emotions I wouldn’t care what you do. But since the last time the curator of this exhibit was Akumatized it was a three day battle, I would really like to avoid it if I can.” She just continued to frown at the girl. That couldn’t be real.

“Did Harley and Ivy put you up to this?” That just got her confused frown mirrored back at her. She was either a really good actress or she wasn’t lying.

“Look, this exhibit is moving to London in under two weeks. Could you please just wait until it leaves Paris to take whatever it is you’re after?” This was so strange. She claimed to be a hero but didn’t seem to care that Catwoman was stealing, just that it would become her problem. Even most of the bats frowned upon that sort of thing.

“So you’re just going to let me walk out of here like nothing happened?” She sighed and ran a hand through her hair, refusing to make eye contact.

“The police have made it clear that it is not my job to apprehend criminals.” There was a lot of anger under those words. Catwoman walked up to the girl and gently lifted her head so she could study her. Seriously, what was it with black hair and blue eyes? Between the bats and Superman she was starting to wonder if it wasn’t a coincidence.

“When was the last time you slept?” She watched Ladybug’s eyes unfocus as she searched for the answer. “How about the last time you ate?” That produced a flinch.

“I can take care of myself.” Well that wasn’t a good reaction. The girl reminded her a bit of Tim and Jason. The sleep deprivation was all the baby CEO but the amorality screamed mister gun nut.

“I’m sure you can. I’ll tell you what; I’ll do what you want but in return you’ll come with me to meet a couple of my friends and let us feed you.” She hesitated but Catwoman didn’t see any worry in her expression. She wasn’t scared of being alone with criminals so it was likely pride holding her back. “I want to talk to you more about the situation here. It’s odd that I haven’t heard about it.”

“No it’s not. The Miraculous magic is very good at containing itself. Very few people outside of Paris have any idea what is going on.” That tone was odd. There was a trace of bitterness but it was mostly resigned.

“How old are you?” The way she held herself said she was experienced in what she did, but everything else screamed that she was still just a kid.

“Old enough to do what must be done.” Yep, she was dealing with a baby.

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

“Will you quit worrying? I’m sure everything’s just fine.” Ivy just shot Harley an annoyed glance. She loved the woman to death but she really needed to take things a bit more seriously sometimes.

“She’s two hours late Harls, that’s a time frame for worry. Not to mention I’ve felt off ever since we got here. There’s something wrong with this city and I don’t like it.” She was constantly on edge and her skin felt like it was trying to crawl off her body. Ivy wanted nothing more than for Selina to get back so they could leave. Sightseeing be damned.

“As always your instincts are dead on.” She let out a relieved breath and turned to yell at Selina for trying to give her a heart attack but couldn’t manage to speak once she saw the person with her. Or rather once she felt the power coming off of them. She pulled Harley behind her and prepared for the worst. Selina was just looking at her like she was insane but the girl was studying her.

“Seriously, you’re scared of a kid?” Harley’s words made her really look at the person and that just made her more worried. Given what she felt this girl was capable of destroying the world without even trying.

“How can you not feel that? The energy radiating from her should be enough that even you should feel it.” Harley and Selina both just looked confused but the girl looked surprised.

“You can actually feel it?” Ivy just nodded. “I’ve never met anyone who could sense the Miraculous before. Whatever you sense though, I assure you I don’t mean any harm. There’s only one person I actually want to maim and I have a feeling when the time comes I won’t even be able to do that.” Well that was… odd. Even Harley was eyeing the girl like she had a screw loose.

“This is Ladybug. She’s a hero here in Paris.” Well that at least explained why she was late. “She’s asked me to hold off on my transaction until it leaves Paris.”

“And you agreed? She’s just going to go to the cops and make things more difficult for you later.” Harley’s words caused anger and hurt to flash across her expression before she controlled it.

“I said I wouldn’t. They wouldn’t take me seriously if I did anyway.” Now she saw why Selina brought her back with her. The girl looked like a stray cat. The stiff way she held herself was exactly like a cat who’d learned that people can’t be trusted, but she refused to run or show fear either. Then Ivy noticed the girls hair and eyes and almost groaned out loud. Selina had been spending so much time with her boyfriend that she was picking up his adoption preferences.

“I wanted to talk with her more about what’s going on here in Paris. We should order food since I have a feeling it’s going to be a long discussion.” Ivy saw the girl's cheeks turn pink and took the time to really look at her. She was the kind of thin that came from not eating rather than just being fit. Her mask hid any bags that might be under her eyes, but even standing still her body was swaying a little. The girl looked like she was about to pass out.

“Of course. Here, have a seat.” Ivy made chairs out of plants for everyone and the girl's face went completely blank before she turned to Selina.

“Is that normal for her?” Harley just started giggling but Selina gave Ladybug a sympathetic smile.

“Yes, Ivy has the power to control plants.” Ladybug let out a relieved sigh.

“Thank Kwami. I don’t think I’m up for another Akuma today.” Ivy shared a confused look with Harley. What the hell was an Akuma?

“You’re fighting people that control plants?” The girl blinked at her in confusion for a moment before understanding dawned.

“No, it’s complicated. I haven’t had to explain this to someone in a long time so I might not make much sense.” She sat while Harley went to order food. Ivy sat across from her and noticed how she melted into the seat. She obviously wasn’t used to being comfortable. When Harley came back in the room they were about to start asking questions when a little black cat shaped creature appeared. It was emitting just as much power as the girl.

“I don’t suppose any of you are willing to spring for camembert?” Harley gave out a squeak of surprise but Catwoman just looked stunned.

“Plagg! Are you out of your mind? Not to mention how rude it is.” Ladybug couldn’t seem to decide whether to be annoyed or embarrassed.

“Given that this one steals for a living I doubt they stand on good manners. Besides, you don’t know if you don’t ask.” The cheeky tone caused an eye twitch in the girl.

“What exactly is that?” Selina hadn’t stopped staring at the creature.

“I’m Plagg, Kwami of Destruction. I power the Black Cat Miraculous.” The girl actually threw her hands up in frustration.

“Tikki’s going to kill us both. Of all the people you could have decided to come out for why would you choose criminals?” Poor kid sounded close to tears and the creature flew up under her chin and started purring. Selina was grinning like a mad woman. Ivy had a feeling things were about to get a lot more complicated.

“Everything will be fine Bug, you’ll see. I’m the Kwami of bad luck and I can feel yours shifting.”

“I thought you said you were the Kwami of Destruction?” Selina sounded far too amused. Ivy shook her head at the woman. She still didn’t understand how no one else could feel the danger here.

“I’m both, just as Tikki is the Kwami of Creation and Good Luck, which is the Miraculous that gives Ladybug her powers.” The Kwami suddenly flew right up to Ivy to study her. “You’re an interesting being. Your abilities are inherently creation but you use them to destroy as well. She could be a good influence for you Bug.” Ladybug let out a sigh and pinched the bridge of her nose.

“I’m not using your powers to smite the people you think have wronged me Plagg. And I would really like to stop having this argument.”

“You act like it’s an opinion rather than a fact. Even Tikki agrees with me there.” The Kwami sounded indignant and more than a little angry. The energy around it was getting steadily stronger. They really needed to divert it’s attention.

“What were you saying about camembert?” The Kwami perked up immediately but Ladybug cringed.

“Kwami need food to recharge and while just about anything will do in a pinch they each have favorites. Plagg’s favorite is extremely smelly and extremely pricy cheese. Which I haven’t been able to provide for awhile now.” Plagg’s expression dropped at her tone.

“Oh kit, it’s not your fault.” The creature flew back to her and began purring again. Ladybug wouldn’t look anyone in the eye but Ivy could feel the guilt and worry coming from her. Whatever was going on this kid needed a break.

“I just need to go change. Then I can run to the store while we wait for the rest of the food.” Plagg looked ecstatic at Selina’s announcement. Ladybug looked mostly worried but there was a bit of relief under that.

“I wasn’t kidding when I said it was expensive. I feel bad enough, don’t let them guilt you into buying something that isn’t really necessary.” Selina scoffed.

“I know exactly how temperamental some creatures are about food and given Ivy’s reaction I’d like to stay on their good side for the moment. Besides, the money isn’t an issue.” She was walking out of the room before the girl could respond. Instead she frowned at Plagg who was still looking after Selina.

“I thought we agreed no more surprises.”

“Tikki and Wayzz agreed, I didn’t. Besides, an opportunity is presenting itself that we don’t want to miss.” Ivy shared a confused look with Harley, who just shrugged at her. Ladybug seemed just as clueless about what they meant. That couldn’t be a good thing.

AO3 Next

#Gotham Sirens #MLB DC Crossover #marinette dupain cheng #Selina Kyle #Harley Quinn #Poision Ivy #mom squad

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stolen-pen-name23 · 3 years

Note

Hey, I love your writing! How about "please talk to me" or "why don't you care?" with Obi-Wan and Anakin for the prompts?

Ahhh thank you so much!!! You're too sweet!

"Please talk to me" and "why don't you care" from these angst prompts. Note: I'm not going to close my inbox, but I'm going to be traveling for a few weeks so if you send me a request, I won't be able to get to it for a while. Plus, there are still quite a few prompts in my inbox I'm working on.

Anyway, here ya go!

---

Anakin hated it when Obi-Wan got like this.

Quiet.

He was never quiet, save in sleep or meditation — two thing he hadn’t been partaking in as much anymore. Any other time, he always had some observation or quippy remark to make. But not now. Now, he sat silently at the kitchen table, staring at his tea, lost in one thought or another.

Anakin knew that when Obi-Wan got quiet, something was wrong. Not that his stubborn old Master would ever express that outwardly. It drove Anakin mad.

Anakin slid into the chair across from Obi-Wan. “They’re going to ship us out again soon,” Anakin started.

Obi-Wan hummed.

“It feels like we just got back home.”

“I suppose it does.”

Anakin frowned. His attempts at conversation were not going well.

“Is something bothering you?” Anakin asked.

“It’s fine, Anakin.”

Anakin could feel frustration swelling up in his chest. What was bothering Obi-Wan? Was it something he did? Surely Obi-Wan would have told him if he did something to upset him. He had had no problem doing that in the past, but now… now tensions between them had become more taught. Anakin wasn’t sure if he was the problem.

“Are you mad at me?” Anakin asked tentatively, feeling like a youngling at the question.

“No.”

“Then what?”

“Just drop it, Anakin.”

“Please,” Anakin said. “Just talk to me, Obi-Wan. You know you can talk to me.”

“I am talking to you,” Obi-Wan said, lifting his gaze from the steaming mug in his hand to Anakin.

“Don’t be a smartass.”

“Fine. What do you want to talk about?” Obi-Wan relented.

“I want you to tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing is wrong.”

“I have a hard time believing that.”

“You can believe whatever you want to believe Anakin.”

“I believe something is wrong.”

“And you are free to do so.”

Anakin huffed. “Stop avoiding the question.”

“Stop asking,” Obi-Wan challenged.

Obi-Wan sipped at his tea and remained passive — the mask of indifference proving to Anakin that he felt anything but. Anakin’s pulse quickened and he felt heat crawling up his neck, reddening his skin.

“Stop trivializing this, Obi-Wan!” Anakin snapped.

“I’m not trivializing anything. There’s nothing to trivialize!”

“Force, why can’t you even pretend like you care about something for once? Do you just not care about anything? Is that it?”

Obi-Wan looked like he had been slapped across the face.

It was in that moment that Anakin realized that maybe he had gone too far this time – pushed a little too hard in an attempt to get a rise out of him.

“How could you say that? How could you think that of me?” Obi-Wan’s voice was low, almost threatening.

“Master I-”

“You presume that I do not feel things because I do not react the way you do to every tragedy that befalls me? You think I am but an emotionless droid wandering around the galaxy? You believe I feel nothing after… after everything? Do you truly believe this?”

“No, Master, I don’t believe that. I didn’t mean–”

Obi-Wan raised his hands. “Stop Anakin. I don’t want to hear it right now. I’m going to bed. You should too.”

Obi-Wan promptly stood up and retreated to his room without even a parting glance Anakin’s way.

Anakin would not be going to bed. At least not here. Why stay in a cramped apartment with his broody former Master when there was a senatorial apartment with a warm bed and someone who was definitely not broody lying in it?

“I’m headed to your place,” Anakin said into his comm.

“I thought you were staying at the temple tonight, Ani?” Padme replied.

“I changed my mind. I’d rather stay with you.”

“Alright,” Padme said softly. “Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine,” Anakin replied, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I just want to see you.”

“Alright, Ani. I’ll see you soon then.”

Anakin grabbed his robe and tore through the halls of the temple until he was spilling into the streets of Coruscant. Cold air nipped at his skin, but he didn’t care. His annoyance, his anger, kept him feeling warm.

He should probably take a speeder. It would be faster. But he needed to burn off some energy and a brisk walk through the smog-soaked streets promised some reprieve from the worst of his rage.

The sights, the sounds, the smells of Coruscant all flooded his senses. He did his best to filter it out and focus on his destination, but a storefront was playing the nightly news and the headline passed through his unstable filters.

“Next up on evening news: A planet in distress. It has been one year since the assassination of Duchess Satine Kryze of Mandalore.”

Anakin’s heart skipped a beat. He immediately backtracked and stood in front of the holo, unable to look away and unable to hear anything else but this.

“With the Death Watch regime now in power, will Mandalore finally take a side in the Clone War? Tune in tonight for predictions from our expert analyst.”

Anakin’s thoughts raced back to the argument he had with Obi-Wan not even an hour ago.

Every tragedy that befalls me.

One year.

Oh yeah, Anakin messed up.

He fumbled around for his comm and flipped it open. “Padme, I’m so sorry, I can’t come by anymore. I need to go home.”

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.”

“What’s wrong?” Padme asked suspiciously.

“Nothing. I just need to clear something up with Obi-Wan. That’s all.”

“What did you do this time?” she groaned.

“I’ll tell you about it later, I need to go.”

“Alright, love. I’ll talk to you soon.”

Anakin turned off his comm, turned on his heels, and ran.

He tore through the temple just as he had torn out of it. He ignored sideways glances and zeroed in on the pathway to their quarters. The door slid open at his command and he bounded over their threshold. Despite just covering a great distance to get here, the distance from the threshold to Obi-Wan’s room felt greater still. Still, he willed his legs, now tired from his sprint through Coruscant, to carry him to Obi-Wan’s room.

He did not bother knocking. If he did, Obi-Wan would refuse to see him and he needed to see him.

The room was cloaked in darkness, but city lights cascaded on Obi-Wan’s body through the window like artificial moonbeams. He was still as if in sleep, but his breathing was hitched and ragged and anything but restful.

“Obi-Wan?” Anakin asked cautiously.

“Not now, Anakin,” Obi-Wan muttered softly.

“No, I–” Anakin faltered. “You don’t have to talk to me. I came to apologize.”

“That’s not necessary.”

“It is.”

Anakin turned on a lamp and Obi-Wan squinted at the warm glow. His eyes, Anakin noticed, were red-rimmed and bloodshot. His hair was a mused and greasy mess.

“May I sit?” Anakin asked.

“If I tell you no, you will just sit anyway.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I know that more than anyone.”

“So can I sit?” Anakin asked, trying not to let impatience creep back in.

“Yes, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said. “You may sit.”

Obi-Wan pulled himself up into a sitting position and moved sideways, allowing Anakin to sit beside him.

“Anakin stop,” Obi-Wan said quickly before Anakin could get all the way on his bed.

“What?” Anakin asked worried Obi-Wan had suddenly changed his mind.

“Take your muddy boots off before you get in my bed. Force who raised you?”

Anakin let out a sharp laugh. He relaxed. If Obi-Wan could scold him like that, then what existed between them was not entirely broken.

“I hate to break it to you, Master,” Anakin said. “But you had a significant hand in my upbringing.”

“Where did I go wrong?” Obi-Wan said, his half-smile an olive branch.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Anakin said. He pulled off his boots and settled in next to Obi-Wan. “You did okay.”

Obi-Wan’s half-smile lingered for a moment longer before fading away.

“Master, I–” Anakin started. He made himself gentler, softer, smaller — everything Obi-Wan needed him to be — everything he was not. “Master, I need to apologize. I shouldn’t have pushed you like that.”

“It’s fine, Anakin.”

“It’s not. I shouldn’t have pushed you and I shouldn’t have said what I said.”

Obi-Wan averted his gaze and remained silent.

“I know you care,” Anakin said earnestly. “I know you care about the Order. The war. Your men. I know you care about,” now Anakin’s breath shook. “I know you care about Ahsoka even though she’s gone. I know you care about me and… and I know you care about her.”

Obi-Wan remained silent for a while and Anakin fought the urge to ask him to say something. That’s how they ended up here in the first place.

“It’s been a year,” Obi-Wan said.

“I know,” Anakin said. “Well, I didn’t know, but I saw it on the news, and I… I’m so sorry.”

“It’s been a year and we’re still in this bloody war and she’s dead and he’s still…” alive.

Obi-Wan didn’t need to finish the sentence for Anakin to know what he meant. He blinked back tears, stubbornly refusing to let them fall.

Anakin sighed. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. The words felt lame and altogether too small to cover the true meaning behind them. But he was not Obi-Wan. He had no words of wisdom or comfort to offer — only apologies and quiet condolences.

“I know, Anakin.”

“Is there something I can do?” Anakin asked, feeling useless.

Obi-Wan finally turned to him, and Anakin could feel the loneliness, the sadness, the exhaustion rolling off of his former Master.

“You can stay.”

So he did.

#my writing #anakin and obi wan #thanks for the prompt!#prompt fill

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dindjarins04 · 3 years

Text

CHAPTER THREE

I AM NO JEDI MASTERLIST

Still curled up on the small chair in Padme's living area, Anakin paces back and forth. He sighs and stops in the middle of the room while you calmly respond to the onslaught of Qui-Gon's messages.

"It's too quiet,"

"That's a good thing," You reply. "I'd rather not have to deal with blasters," You look and see him looking down at you. "Perhaps if you sat down, you wouldn't be so anxious,"

"Can you at least pay some attention to me rather than your holopad?" He asks with a huff. You roll your eyes and place it down.

"You're such a child,"

"Maybe I just need a distraction,"

"Oh and I'm the perfect fit for your distraction?" You tease as he sits down in the chair opposite you.

"Yes," He says. "So...why do you think we weren't allowed to see each other for 10 years?"

"Well, those 10 years were the most vital part of our training, maybe we were just too busy with training to make friends," You shrug as you stand to pour yourself a glass of water. Anakin stays silent as he thinks of different reasons for the Jedi keeping you separate. "Enough about us...what's your story with Padme?" You cringe at yourself. Smooth, (Y/N), that was real smooth.

"We met on Tatooine, I saved her planet and that's it," You quirk a brow and turn around, leaning against the table you got your water from.

"Really? I thought you two had something more, considering the way you talk to her," You say, sipping your water.

"Heh, jealous?" You choke on the water at the question.

"That's absurd," Anakin chuckles and shakes his head.

"Whatever you say, princess,"

"Quiet, mudscuffer," Then, Obi-Wan strolls in.

"Captain Typho has more than enough men downstairs. No assassin will try that way. Any activity up here?" He asks as you move back to your holopad to send your last couple of messages to your master.

"Quiet as a tomb. I don't like just waiting here for something to happen to her," Anakin complains as Obi-Wan checks a palm-sized view scanner he has pulled out of his utility belt. It shows a shot of R2 by the door, but no sign of Padme on the bed.

"What's going on?" Obi-Wan asks.

"She covered that camera. I don't think she liked us watching her," You roll your eyes.

"What is she thinking?"

"Actually, all of this was (Y/N)'s idea," You look to see the men staring at you.

"I programmed R2 to warn us if there's an intruder,"

"It's not an intruder I'm worried about. There are many other ways to kill a Senator,"

"I know, but we also want to catch this assassin. Don't we, master Jedi?" You respond with a smirk.

"You're using her as bait??"

"It was her idea... No harm will come to her,"

"I can sense everything going on in that room. Trust me," Anakin adds on as you finish your last message and put down your holopad.

"It's too risky... and your senses aren't that attuned, young apprentice,"

"And yours are?"

"Possibly," You roll your eyes at the duo.

"You know, I can sense everything too, Qui-Gon has been teaching me well,"

"I do not disagree, I was his padawan as well," Obi-Wan says as he moves to look out of the window.

"The water is empty, I'll get some more, comm me if anything happens," Obi-Wan nods as Anakin walks beside him.

"You look tired," Obi-Wan states as he examines Anakin.

"I don't sleep well, anymore," He responds truthfully.

"Because of your mother?"

"I don't know why I keep dreaming about her now. I haven't seen her since I was little,"

"Dreams pass in time,"

"I'd rather dream of (Y/N). Just being around her again is...intoxicating," He smiles to himself but Obi-Wan gives him a look of disapproval.

"Mind your thoughts, Anakin, they betray you. You and (Y/N) have made a commitment to the Jedi order... a commitment not easily broken...and remember she is also a Jedi,"

"I understand Master...but there's just something about her. Being around her again...it brings a forgotten but familiar feeling back," Anakin grins, gently touching his chest.

"Anakin, (Y/N) is already on thin ice with the Jedi Council, please don't try and ruin this for her," Anakin looks up at his master.

"I...I won't," You return with a sigh.

"I couldn't get any water!" You exclaim. "Too many procedures to fill up one jug of water," You sigh placing it down. "Anything interesting happen while I was gone?" Anakin and Obi-Wan share a discreet glance.

"No, it's been very quiet," Obi-Wan answers to Anakin's relief. But then, you all stop and look at each other.

"Is it just me?"

"No, I can sense it too," All three of you run and burst into Padme's room. Two creatures stand on their hind legs as Padme lays deadly still. Anakin springs onto the bed and slices the creatures in half with his lightsaber. You see a droid outside and race after it, crashing through the blinds and window. Okay. Bad idea. You did NOT think that through.

You fly through the glass window and fling yourself at the probe droid, grabbing onto the deadly machine before it can flee. The droid sinks under the weight of you but manages to stay afloat and fly away, with you hanging on for dear life, a hundred stories above the city. The droid sends several protective electrical shocks across its surface, causing you to almost lose your grip. As you dart in and out of the speeder traffic, you disconnect a wire on the back of the droid. Its power shuts off. Shit! You and the droid drop like rocks. You realise the error of your ways and quickly puts the wire back. The droid's systems light up again and it takes off.

Sweat begins to build on your forehead. You did not think this through what so ever and you have no idea where Anakin or Obi-Wan is. The last thing you remember is Padme's deadly still body. Is she dead? That sudden thought sends a pang of regret in your gut. Did you allow your best and only friend to die?

The droid bumps against a wall, hoping to knock you loose. It moves behind a speeder afterburner to scorch you. It takes you wildly between buildings and finally skims across a rooftop and you are forced to lift your legs, tenaciously hanging onto the droid.

"Would you stop?!" You growl as the droid heads for a dirty, beat-up speeder hidden in an alcove of a building about twenty stories up. When the pilot of the speeder, a scruffy looking person who is most likely a bounty hunter, sees the droid approach with you hanging on, she pulls a long rifle out of the speeder and starts to fire at you. Explosions burst all around you. "I have a bad feeling about this," You say.

Finally, the droid suffers a direct hit and blows up and you fall fifty stories until a speeder drops down next to you, and you manage to grab onto the back end of the speeder and haul yourself toward the cockpit. You struggle to climb into the seat and you sigh in relief when seeing Anakin driver and Obi-Wan in the passenger seat.

"That was wacky! I almost lost you in the traffic," Anakin said.

"What took you so long?" You ask as you finally sit correctly in the seat you tumbled into.

"Oh, you know, princess, I couldn't find a speeder I really liked, with an open cockpit... and with the right speed capabilities...and then you know I had to get a really gonzo colour..."

"Qui-Gon will not be happy about your recklessness," Obi-Wan chimes in.

"Well, I know who to follow now," Anakin zooms upward in hot pursuit of the bounty hunter as she fires out the open window at you with her laser pistol.

"And Anakin, if you'd spend as much time working on your saber skills as you do on your wit, young Padawan, you would rival Master Yoda as a swordsman," Obi-Wan says, scolding both of you.

"I thought I already did," Anakin replies smugly.

"Only in your mind, my very young apprentice. Careful!! Hey, easy!!" Obi-Wan says as he grips the sides of the speeder as Anakin deftly moves in and out of the oncoming traffic, across lanes, between buildings, and miraculously through a construction site, the bounty hunter still firing at you.

"Sorry, I forgot you don't like flying, Master," You watch with a small smile at the way these two communicate. It reminds you of how you and Lumarina shared a lot of jokes and banter just like these two.

"I don't mind flying... but what you're doing is suicide!" You barely miss a commuter train.

"I agree with Obi-Wan on that account," You say as you duck.

"Master, you know I've been flying since before I could walk. I'm very good at this and (Y/N)...just trust me," You roll your eyes as he laughs and Obi-Wan gasps as Anakin makes another narrow turn.

"Just slow down!" The bounty hunter and Anakin race through a line of cross-traffic made up of giant trucks. The speeders bank sideways as they slide around right-angle turns between buildings. The bounty hunter races into a tram tunnel. "Wait! Don't go in there!" Obi-Wan says but Anakin zooms into the tunnel after the hunter. You see a tram coming at you. Anakin brakes, turns around, and race out, barely ahead of the charging commuter transport."You know I don't like it when you do that!" Obi-Wan growls. "We also have another person with us, try not to kill three Jedi!"

"Sorry, Master. Don't worry, this guy's gonna kill himself any minute now!"

"No, you're going to kill us!" You scold, slapping his head. The hunter turns into oncoming traffic, deliberately trying to throw Anakin off. Oncoming speeders swerve, trying to avoid the hunter and three Jedi. The hunter does a quick, tight loop-over and ends up behind all of you. She is now in a much better position to fire at you all with her laser pistol. To avoid being hit by the laser bolts, Anakin slams on the brakes and moves alongside her. She now fires point-blank at Obi-Wan.

"What are you doing? He's gonna blast me!"

"Right, not a good idea," Anakin quickly turns and swerves away. Suddenly, the hunter throws a bunch of explosives in your direction. You stand and use the force to hold them away from your speeder as they explode. Out of a cloud of smoke and ball of flames Anakin tears after the hunter.

"(Y/N), that didn't do much help!" Obi-Wan slaps out the small fire on the dashboard.

"At least we're not dead!" You exclaim, sitting back down. The hunter goes up and down, through cross-traffic. There is a near miss as a speeder almost hits you. The hunter turns down and left between two buildings. Anakin pulls up and to the right

"Where are you going?! He went down there, the other way,"

"This is a shortcut... I think,"

"What do you mean, 'You think?' What kind of shortcut?! He went completely the other way! You've lost him!" You exclaim from behind him.

"Guys, if we keep this chase going, that creep's gonna end up deep-fried personally, I'd very much like to find out who in the hell he is and who he's working for..."

"Oh, so that's why we're going in the wrong direction," Obi-Wan says sarcastically. Anakin turns up a side street, zooming up several small passageways, then stops, hovering about fifty stories up. Obi-Wan folds his arms. "Well, you lost him,"

"I'm deeply sorry, Master,"

"Great job Anakin, he went completely the other way," You groan, unhappy for losing the bounty hunter. Anakin looks around front and back. He spots something. He seems to start counting to himself as he watches something below approach.

"Excuse me for a moment," Anakin then jumps out of the speeder. You and Obi-Wan watch as he jumps on the hunter's speeder about five stories below you. You quickly jump into the driver's seat and follow after them. You deftly gain on the rogue speeder. The two speeders dive through oncoming traffic and then through cross traffic. You then see Anakin drop something and you quickly catch it. You then notice it's his lightsaber. You sigh and hand it to Obi-Wan.

"I'm going to have to admit, this has been the most fun I've had since Naboo," You say as you follow the speeder as it crashes onto the ground.

"Naboo? You mean with Maul?"

"Well, everything leading up to that," You say as you talently spin around oncoming vehicles.

"Spinning is not flying!" Obi-Wan groans. "This is the first time I've ridden with you and your already matching Anakin's recklessness," You chuckle as you land. You grin as you land and wipe the sweat from your head. Obi-Wan looks at you before chuckling. You also laugh as he gets out and helps you out. "I will have to admit, that was something different,"

"Probably something the council will frown upon," You joke before seeing him. "Anakin!"

"She went into that club," Anakin said, pointing to the bright sign.

"Patience," Obi-Wa reminds as he hands Anakin his lightsaber. "Here. Next time try not to lose it,"

"Sorry, Master," Anakin reaches for the lightsaber, but Obi-Wan holds it back. "A Jedi's saber is his most precious possession,"

"Yes, Master," He reaches for his lightsaber again, but Obi-Wan pulls it back.

"He must keep it with him at all times,"

"I know, Master,"

"This weapon is your life!"

"I've heard this lesson before..." You and Anakin say at the same time. Obi-Wan finally holds out his lightsaber and Anakin grabs it.

"But unlike (Y/N), you haven't learned anything, Anakin,"

"I try, Master,"

"However, you should thank (Y/N) for catching it for you," Obi-Wan says before stepping away.

"Thank you...you've lost your lightsaber?" He teases as you follow Obi-Wan.

"Yeah, but I found it," You defend.

"How long did it take you?"

"3 lectures from my master and one full rotation,"

"Really? Where was it?" You look down. "(Y/N)," He says in a sing-song voice.

"It was under my bed," Anakin laughs loudly and you also chuckle as all three of you enter the nightclub.

#anakin skywalker #anakin #anakin x reader #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin x y/n #anakin skywalker x y/n #anakin x you #anakin skywalker x you #attack of the clones #I AM NO JEDI SERIES #I AM NO JEDI BOOK ONE #I AM NO JEDI CHAPTER THREE

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bloomyagi · 3 years

Text

bewitched (m)

summary: bakugou has always loved you.

pairings: bakugou katsuki x f!reader, hawks x f!reader (nsfw)

genre: characters are aged up, 20+, pro heroes au

warnings: allusions to cheating, angst, porn w/ lots of feelings, shower sex, kinda subby bakugou, he’s basically lovesick n soft for u, keigo is a good birdie, he would never do this irl

length: 3,518

notes: hello! my first bnha fic, please be kind <3 please let me know what you think! i’ve been so obsessed w/ jjk & bnha recently skdjkjf. send help

It comes down softly at first. The droplets whispering against windshields, ghosting across bare arms, a trick of the light. Then a pause, like the darkening clouds are reconsidering their decisions. There is no wind, no anger in the way it pelts down, darkens the concrete. Like resignation, like relief. It soaks bone, sends most civilians packing as they duck under awnings and flee into shops in anticipation of a short-lived flare.

But it is summer, and the rain is welcome as a remedy against the oppressive heat. Many onlookers merely move their belongings closer to avoid the stream, gaze out glass windows longingly. Some find inspiration, others find peace.

You stand in the middle of it all, drenched and unmoving as you watch your lover wrap his arms around his secretary, and you wonder whose mood this pathetic fallacy is expected to reflect as you look across to meet familiar eyes.

He, too, mirrors your stance. Clothes sodden, yet the nature of its designs only lends to plaster themselves closer to his skin. His irises are that bright, burning red. He is not fizzling, heated against the affair before him. Instead, his gaze is trained on you.

There is no fury, no sadness, no emptiness. His gaze is not hollow, it is instead strangely warm. Your chest squeezes, tightening in the way you experience when you read a novel laced in tragedy, that welling feeling of anguish and sorrow.

His hands are shoved in his pockets, and though his eyes remain fastened to you, he makes no step to move closer.

The sky lightens, a thin streak of sun peering through in a solitary beam. The sounds seem to press close again, like a bubble popping in your ear.

The summer storm is tempered as quickly as it appeared, the sound of life—laughter, the splashing of sneakers drowning in newly formed puddles—and the lingering smell of renewed earth and the chirping of birds as they shake off their wings to take flight.

Water drips silently down the pair of gorgeous wings before you. They flutter briefly, flicking off the thin layer that pooled on its surface, before unfurling to fold over her. He pulls her closer, separating only every so often to breathe.

Shameless, is all you think plainly. And you are—ashamed. That feeling catches you by surprise, breath caught in your throat as the feeling expands, takes root in your lungs. It is that hindsight, that disappointment—at yourself—that has you lowering your eyes.

He is still looking at you, even as someone squeals and a crowd gathers, pushing and shoving to press close, stays rooted to his spot, watching you, even as the couple finally break apart, dishevelled—she adjusts her pencil skirt, re-buttons her blouse; he runs a hand through his golden locks, fixes his half-open shirt—and Hawks’ chuckle rings across the street, one arm braced around her waist as he signs autographs and takes photos. She is glowing beside him, all smiles and shrill laughter. Her nails, perfectly manicured and sharp, digs into his chest. He doesn’t even flinch. He likes it.

You stifle a dry laugh. Turning on your heel, you disappear into the thickening crowd.

He himself is being pawed at, hands fawning at his exposed arms, clutching at him like he is fresh off the conveyer belt.

He waits until he can no longer discern your retreating figure before bearing a half-smile at the crowd. He takes the pen that is shoved into his face, and he begins signing autographs.

Time and experience have tempered his constitution. He has accepted his flaws, worked on them until he could proudly stand on the same stage as his—friends. Because that is what they are—these people that have helped him grow, comforted his trauma, stayed with him despite it all. What else could he call them but the very things they are—they are the pillar of his strength. Because of you, I learned I could be strong for the things I care about.

He is not number one. He has no need for such a title, no need for such a goal anymore. He is no longer the brash, easily angered teenager that charged for the strongest.

“I don’t care what they call me, what rank I am, or what they think of me. I only want the power to protect these people. That’s it.” He thinks back to your words.

You are not often solemn. You laughed a lot, the slow-appearing crinkles to the corner of your eyes a physical testament to your innate joy. You liked to take delight in the ordinary things. Perhaps that is what drew him to you—that strength. To shoulder the burden of your chosen role in this society, to have the bravery to smile amongst the suffering.

There was always an unbidden heat that surged in his chest when he thought of you. That odd feeling of a knot tying itself in his stomach when his skin brushed yours. When you fell from the height of a skyscraper, half-conscious from defeating a new breed of nomu, his heart stuttered and leapt in halting beats to throat as he split from his team, their screams for you ringing in his ears, the rush of badump-badump closing in rapidly, pushing his beaten body to its limits, faster, faster, faster—please! Who was he praying to at the time? He was begging anyone who was listening to give him that push—the gap was too big, you were too far, he was too tired, too useless, too broken—he slammed into you with enough force to compel blood up his throat.

He spat it to the side quickly, not bothering to wipe himself clean before he turned to you. The first thing he registered was warmth. You were limp in his hold, on the edge of passing out, exhaustion lining every curve of your face. Your lips quirked, eyes closed.

“Hurts like hell,” you slurred. “Falling from heaven.”

He stared at you, blinking the blood from his lashes.

And then he threw his back and laughed. It was a full-bodied, uproarish laughter. The type that rumbled from his chest. He shook, though he was careful not to jostle you, and you managed a quiet chuckle.

The adrenaline faded from his body, and he hiccupped as he slumped onto the concrete beam behind him. The ice receded from his veins.

“Don’t scare me like that again,” he murmured. It was a quiet plea. Don’t do that ever again, is what he really wanted to say, but how could he? This was the occupational hazard of your shared line of work. This was the risk. His eyes burned, half-lidded as he held you closer.

You couldn’t lift a single limb on your body, so you lean into him.

“No promises.”

It was enough. Your voice was raspy, drained, but there was a sincere lilt to it.

He wanted to say something more, then, but first responders arrived and whisked you separate ways before he could gather his thoughts.

He regrets it, to this day. Perhaps if he had said something then, said something sooner, the scene would have played out differently.

He does not have many regrets, have long resolved to move on from his past and mistakes. “What a useless emotion,” you once told him. “Don’t wallow. Mourn and move on. Do better. That’s what you owe. That is what you are owed.”

But this—this he will always regret.

He finds you on the roof of your penthouse.

“I like it. Being able to see everything from up here.” The first time he’d peered over the edge, he’d been enlisted for furniture rearranging. You handed him a beer, beckoning him over, jerking your head to the scenery below. And it was—breathtaking. You were breathtaking. He hadn’t even bothered to entertain a cursory glance. It was summer then, too, and the evening breeze was light as it brushed your locks back. Lights began to flicker as the sun dipped lower into the horizon. He briefly considered making a similar move.

But moving was a hassle, only further proven by the efforts of today, so he dismissed the thought quickly, taking another swig. He was sweaty, a layer of grime a film over his skin from the manual labour he’d been voluntold for most of the afternoon. It was petty work compared to his—their—day job, but it was still a strangely refreshing workout.

“What are you feeling?” His steps are muted, voice faint. It carries on the back of a shallow gust.

You don’t spare him a look, staring into the distance. You’re sitting, one leg thrown casually over the ledge, the other pulled to your stomach. He’d made an off-hand comment once about adding some railings, but you’d rolled your eyes and pushed him playfully.

Pussy, you called. He chuckled. Like we don’t experience enough life-threatening dangers on a regular basis, he snarked.

All the more reason, then, you shot back. He fell silent then, the pulsing in his throat returning.

He could never really read you. Eyes are the window to the soul. He scoffs internally. Whoever said that must’ve known it was a load of bullshit. Your eyes never said anything. But his—his said everything he couldn’t, and more.

You hum. “Would it be cliché if I said I wasn’t surprised, only disappointed?”

“No.”

“Then I’m disappointed. I had hoped, I suppose, that he would choose differently.”

He tastes the words that I would be enough between, and the sigh of to change him that escapes your lips.

“You knew who he was when you went into this,” he says quietly. No judgement—he is not reminding you of your poor decisions, rather striking a conversation in the same manner one would inquire about the weather.

Quant, you think. And a few years ago, you would have added out of character. But now it is not so—he has grown into himself well.

You tilt your head back. He leans against the wall, arms crossed across that well-built chest of his, shirt straining against the muscle. He’s so tall now—so much taller than anyone had expected him to be. That wild, unruly blond hair of his has remained the same, appearing spiky but soft to the touch. And his eyes—they are gentle but retain the ferocity he is well-known for.

“Yes,” you say after a while. “That is why I am not surprised. But these feelings won’t just disappear overnight because of this.”

He’s quiet for a while, those crimson orbs of his trailing over your expression. You don’t know what he finds, but he must understand your position because he nods.

“I’ll wait for you.”

This—this is a surprise. Somehow, he always manages to surprise you.

“After all this time?” You ask softly.

“Always,” he says quietly.

He leaves, and when you return to the house, you pick up the keys he left on your counter. Twirling them on one finger, you smile to yourself.

Thank you. You know he knows.

“I tried to be the person you wanted me to be,” he says.

“I tried, I really did. But this is who I am, who they made me. I can’t change. I’m sorry,” he says.

He says a lot more, you think, but you’ve long since stopped listening. He knows these are only flimsy barriers that excuse his behaviour. He knows he is not this person. He is not broken, he is worthy of much, much more. He just needs to believe it. They took everything from him. That is what he thinks, how he lives. Like he has no real purpose.

Instead, he is stopped, wings flaring as you reach for him. You smell familiar, and that ache in his heart deepens. He will forever regret losing you, but you deserve more. He is not good for you, and he is not your responsibility. His growth is his obligation. Perhaps, when he is ready, he will find you again.

But by then, he thinks, burying his face into your shoulder, you will have already chosen differently.

“I love you, baby bird. I will always love you,” he presses these words against your neck in a soft whisper, voice cracking, like a prayer, he tries to sear his truth into your skin. He tastes salt on his tongue.

And, between it all, he traces I’m sorry.

You squeeze him once.

You know.

“Hey.”

You’re uncharacteristically shy, cheeks puffing in that sweet smile of yours.

That sharp, familiar warmth blooms in his chest at the sight of you perched on the arm of his leather couch. You look comfortable, relaxed, like you—belonged here, his mind supplies helpfully.

He steps out of his boots, unbuckling his support items and setting them on the counter to clean later. He’s a little worse for wear tonight, shoulders tight from chasing rogue villains the past few hours. The tension seeps away steadily, though, the longer he drinks you in.

You look good. You always look good. Gorgeous, even more so when you’re tired and dirty, covered in blood and dust and debris. It’s been so long since you patrolled together, pulled to opposite ends of the city the past few months.

“Hey,” he says back.

“Shower?” You take his hand.

He trails behind you, nearly tripping over in his haste to follow, failing to register your words in time. This must be a dream, he decides. And he will play along, as he always does in these fits of delirium. He will hold you and have you and love you in ways he cannot begin to describe, and then he will lose you as dawn breaks and he wakes to an empty bed. But he falls anyway, does it over and over until he feels like he will go insane from the sheer longing. He is addicted to you.

You haven’t spoken, not really, since that night on the rooftop. So you, being here, without any prior warning, touching him, smiling at him, leading him to his fucking shower—this must be a dream, right?

You push open the door to his bathroom. It’s big, he’s always been meticulous about his health, and enjoys his fair share of long soaks and hot showers.

He realizes a beat too late that you’re undressing him. He exhales sharply when you tug his shirt off, but before he could say anything, you murmur, “You smell like caramel. You always do. It’s just a little stronger than usual.”

“Oh.” He sounds a little breathless, a little strangled. Unlike him, but he has never really been anything but himself with you. He’s still discovering new sides to himself, it seems.

Oddly enough, he’s the farthest thing from embarrassed as he steps out of his pants and boxers. He’s flushed, but the heat that floods his veins is nothing short of delicious. It makes his head spin, makes him lean into your touch.

You strip quickly, tossing your costume fabric aside his for laundry. He sucks in an audible breath at the sight of your nude body. Beautiful, he wants to say, but the words are stuck in his throat, and he reaches out with a shaky hand to thumb the smear of grease on your cheek.

You smile, pushing open the frosted glass doors and pull him inside.

The temperature is perfect. He likes it hot on days like today, muscles relaxing as the water washes away his fatigue.

“You know me so well,” he says.

You push him under the stream, water cascading between the two of you. His locks flatten under the pressure, falling over his eyes. You run a hand through his hair, pushing it back as you press yourself flush against him.

“Yes,” you answer. “I do.”

And then you kiss him. A low purring echoes through the space. Ah, it’s me, some part of him thinks absently. He opens his mouth instantly, tongue lapping at yours, arms coming around to hold you close. He can distinctly feel the way your perked nipples rub against his pectorals. He can taste you. And you are sweet, so sweet and the lewd sounds of your make out reverberating in the room so vividly he knows this is not, in fact, a mere conjuration of imagination after all.

He loathes to part from you, but he does. His fingers dig into your waist, anchoring him to reality. He looks at you searchingly, beseechingly. If you are here, you can only be here for one reason.

“I’m sorry I took so long. I’m sorry, I know it must’ve been painful. I’m here now, I promise I’ll never leave again,” you say, cupping his cheek.

His breath catches. His eyes flutter shut.

“You promise?” He sounds so small, so weak. Vulnerable. He would’ve hated that, once, but he is no longer that person. Today, he can accept he is weak for you. Always has been. And that’s okay, he thinks. He doesn’t have to be strong all the time.

“Yes. I promise, Katsuki.” You press your forehead against him, standing on your tippy toes.

He kisses you again, swallows your dreamy sigh, one hand on the back of your head, the other crushing your body against his. He wants you close, needs you close. Needs to feel you, this is real, right?

“Yes,” you whisper, and he realizes belatedly that he spoke aloud. “This is real. I’m here. I’m right in front of you.” You take his hand and press it against your upper rib cage, where your heart beats. Fast, like the wings of a hummingbird.

He can’t help it. He takes you against the wall, so pent up from years of pining he can hardly think, rutting into you like a teenager in heat, feeling like he’s a virgin again, every trace of your skin so new, he maps them out first with his eyes, then his hands and mouth. He slows down when you call his name in a haze of pleasure, takes the time to worship you, find what makes you tick, watches your expression raptly as he rolls his hips, as he tweaks your nipples, palms your ass, litters a necklace of freshly bloomed violets on your collarbone.

He’s panting your name, you’re murmuring praises in his ear, tugging at his locks and biting down on his shoulder and he cums so hard his vision whitens.

The two of you slide down, his legs giving out in the aftershocks, until he’s sitting on the floor of his shower and you’re curled up on his lap.

The water is—miraculously—still hot.

You lay there for a while, and he catches his breath between lazy kisses, enjoying the way your hands roam his chest languidly.

Finally, he stands, letting you down reluctantly to actually clean yourselves. You giggle at the pout that forms when your feet touch the ground once more.

You wash his hair, massaging methodically as he dips his head back to let the foam drain. He takes great pleasure in this, at the way you spread a generous amount of body wash on your palms and begin scrubbing the grime from his skin.

He jolts forward, letting out a low groan as you squeeze his flaccid cock teasingly. He glances away, eyes half-lidded, at the heated look you give him when his cock hardens immediately.

“You underestimate how easily you turn me on,” he says plainly. Not a hint of embarrassment. And why should he be? You kiss the corner of his mouth. “I love it,” you murmur.

You rinse him off before turning. His length presses against your ass, but he makes no move to seek anything further, focused on washing you.

Satisfied, he turns off the water.

You step out, toweling each other off. He pulls you to him, inhaling deeply. He likes that you smell like him now.

Afterwards, you are tucked in close, covers pulled up and he’s buried his face in your chest, bare legs tangled.

Perhaps it’s the novelty, the feeling of finally, but you can’t get enough of one another. You wake each other multiple times throughout the night, clawing at each other, ripping his boxers and your—his—shirt from each other until you were pressed tightly together, bare, a thin sheen of sweet already coating your bodies.

A thin strip of moonlight peeks through the cream curtains. He gazes up at you, thinks everything in his life has been leading up to this moment. That warmth swelling again, as it always does, so intense it has him arching his back. You touch his cheek, smiling. Something lands on the side of his pillow. Ah. You lean down, lips warm as they kiss away his tears.

“I love you, Katsuki.”

He closes his eyes.

Thank you.

#katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #hawks x reader #takami keigo x reader #bakugo smut #hawks smut #bakugo x you #hawks x you #bakugou x reader

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marvelfansince08love · 3 years

Text

Cookies to make you smile

Word count: 1.5k

Pairing: WandaNat x MaximoffSister!Reader

Warning: none, Pure Fluff

A/N: So I stupidly answered this request privately lmao but for my incredible spidey <3 @nervousspiderling. Not well edited I do apologise! x

This is technically part of my Wanda Wednesday but alas I can never do anything on time lmao 😂

Permanent tags: @waitingfortheendtocome @natasha-danvers @natasharomanoffswife @creepingwolfberry

Title: Cookies to make you smile

A calming atmosphere settles across the living room space as the snow flutters lightly outside during the December month, you sit with your back to the arm of the couch and a book open across your thighs. Your sister sits opposite you with her legs crossed as she leans against the back of the couch reading her own book in peace. You bite your lip as you contemplate your thoughts, fidgeting in place, itching to do something more productive; the silence of the room coming too unbearable.

“Wanda, can we please make Natasha those Russian Gingerbreads?” you beg your sister, pout in place as your eyes widen for extra effect. Wanda rolls her eyes from the comfort of her seat, book in hand as she tries to desperately avoid your doe-eyed expression knowing she’ll crack under them.

“When you say ‘we’ you mean me right? Because the last time you wanted to make something for Tasha you left me to do all of the work, Sestra.” Wanda complains, sighing as she places her book onto the coffee table knowing the last few sentences hadn’t sunk into her brain. You quickly throw yourself over her lap and look up at her with a sad expression.

“Hey! I tried to help, it’s you who told me to sit nicely and wait for you to finish making the damn treat,” you grumble, folding your arms across your chest. Wanda laughs at your expression knowing full well why you were told to sit and not touch anything. Over the last few months you’ve been training with your sister and her team to help control and home in on your powers, your body still trying to adjust to the changes surround your chemical imbalances, that it’s making any form of stress or anxiety spiral to chaos and as a result having a very angry Tony pay for the damages; The kitchen event from last week still remained a no go topic of conversation between the team.

Wanda quickly pushes you off her lap leaving you in a heap on the floor as you yelp out loud at the sudden change of position. Glaring at her you stomp off towards the kitchen that’s shared between your sister and her girlfriend prepared to make the treat yourself. Natasha had been working hard with new shield recruits lately, training them up and making sure they stay out of Fury’s way; ‘Punishment’ is what Nat calls it after her and Clint decided to pull a prank on the Director two weeks ago. The prank had been worth it apparently she had told you, grinning like a menace as Wanda laughed next to her, the clear image of the event playing in her mind. She had been coming home grumpy and tired ever since, leaving it up to you and Wanda to cheer her up whenever possible.

“Fine but you are helping this time and they’re called Tula Pryanik, they are Nat’s favourite Russian treat,” Wanda explains, a sense of fondness appearing in her green eyes making you cringe at her puppy love expression.

Your sister had been dating the redhead assassin for a while, when they came to rescue you from the hands of Hydra a few months back you had seen it then, the sheer panic in Wanda’s eyes as she watched Natasha fall to the ground from a nearby explosion as she carried you out of the building and through the crossfire. You had been in and out of consciousness when they headed back to base in the Quinjet but you had heard snippets of their conversation and their soft tones, whispering like lovers. In a way you had been relieved that after everything; the destruction, the pain she was able to find some light at the end of the tortuous tunnel. Over time it almost seemed inevitable that you would also grow close to the redhead, having similar experiences with monsters who want to keep you under lock and key until they use you for their dirty work. You had grown fond of the avenger and confined in her when you couldn’t with your sister.

Soon enough, you’re both covered in flour as your nose fills with the smell of cinnamon and ginger. Wanda shows you how to roll the cookie dough into perfect balls before placing them onto the baking tray and into the pre-heated oven. The oven pings an hour later as you and Wanda continue to eat from the tub of ice cream to pass time. You both tilt your heads as you inspect the small baking tray full of freshly baked gingerbread cookies.

“You think we can make up another batch? Maybe take some upstairs for the rest of the team,” you suggest, already grabbing the ingredients to make another batch of cookie dough as Wanda hums in agreement.

“Well considering we haven’t completely messed up, we may as well.” she murmurs, placing the already made up tray into the oven . You pause from setting up the ingredients, a subtle smirk gracing your lips as your eyes sparkle with mischief. Quickly scooping up a handful of flour you flatten your palm softly across Wanda’s cheek watching as her mouth widens in shock as the white flour covers her cheek, you stand in silent shock trying to hold in your laughter.

“Oh it’s on!” Wanda exclaims, reaching for the open egg carton and cracking the egg shell above your head, making you gasp at the slimy texture that drapes down to your face.

You both continue to laugh and run around the kitchen, throwing the odd dash of flour at one another unaware of the amused figure who stands not far from the open kitchen.

“Oh I’m sorry I thought I left the kids at work today,” Natasha’s voice teases, causing you to turn in fright at her sudden presence making you halt on the spot. Wanda who was already aware of her girlfriend’s presence decides to strike her final attack on your distracted form causing you to slip and fall groaning as your behind hits the hard cool flooring, Wanda not far behind. Nat watches as you both giggle to yourselves leaning against the kitchen counter, moving forward she eyes the one batch of Gingerbread cookies and takes three from the tray before crouching down to join you both on the floor, settling herself in between you both as Wanda kisses her sweetly in greeting. Grabbing the tasty treat from her offered hand, you all take a bite of the treat chewing for a moment before scrunching up your face, you eye the other two and notice their similar distaste.

“Jarvis, set a reminder for me to never make these again,” you look up to the ceiling as you address the A.I.

“Certainly, Miss. Maximoff.” his voice echoing throughout the room. Natasha laughs before leaning her against yours, lacing her fingers through Wanda’s.

“Thank you both for trying though,” Her voice filled with sincerity.

“Anything for my favourite sister in-law,” you smile at your preferred title for the assassin as your sister smiles back fondly at you both.

#wandanat #wandanat x reader #sister!reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #natasha romanoff x wanda #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #marvel #wanda wednesday

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wonlouvre · 3 years

Text

pairing: doctor!wonwoo x lawyer!female oc genre: modern royalty, arranged marriage, fluff and future angst word count: 1,787 warnings: mentions of food, skipping a meal, fainting

author’s note: part 2 is here and i am excited! i received the support that some of you have given by liking and reblogging and i appreciate it so much! please do share some of your thoughts. i’d love to hear from you. for some reference on what our Prince Wonwoo wore on this chapter during the first few bits: here.

two: what could have been | masterlist

“What?”

One of these days you’re going to start blaming Wonwoo for the unusual accidents that happen whenever he is around or whenever his name is brought up. It’s a relief that you didn’t trip, again, because you were more than sure that making an abrupt stop while wearing heels can lead to several painful possibilities.

“You okay?” Jeongyeon was quick to hold on to your arm, helping you find your balance again. She’s definitely not risking anymore injuries especially now that there’s no Doctor Jeon around.

“What did you just say?” You repeat as you try to compose yourself and start walking across the hallway like how you were supposed to in the first place.

Jeongyeon blinks at you for a few seconds before gasping, “Oh, right! According to my sources, apparently the long term girlfriend was actually the one for Prince Wonwoo,” she says casually as if she’s just dropping the weather report for the day. “He had plans to propose.”

Propose?

“By sources you mean?” You ask. The lawyer in you is making sure that this is nothing but a baseless rumor and also the rational person in you is making sure your head doesn't get clouded by jealousy.

Me? Jealous? Your left eye twitches at the thought.

“Dr. Kwon also known as Hoshi,” she answers like they have been friends for ten years. “He’s the Prince’s friend from primary school up to medical school.”

“How do you even know this Dr. Kwon?” You ask while narrowing your eyes at her. You are nowhere near done verifying her sources.

Jeongyeon sheepishly smiles before giggling nervously. “Well…”

You sigh. Jeongyeon can be brilliant but she could go overboard at times. “Don’t tell me he works at the same hospital as Wonwoo and you yourself went there?”

“I had to!” She defends, stomping her feet. “You told me to go look up some info and I did. I just wanted to do a good job while I was at it.”

You close your eyes in defeat before pulling her close to whisper a reminder to her ear, “Next time, let’s tone down the enthusiasm, alright?”

She just grins. “No promises.”

Were you threatened by the recent information your assistant just shared to you?

No, of course not.

Were you bothered?

Yes. Absolutely. One hundred percent.

You’re bothered because you can’t help but think about what could have been.

What could have been for Wonwoo and this mystery girl. You suddenly feel terrible. All this time you were okay with this arrangement. In fact, you were beyond okay already. But, how about Wonwoo? Sure, maybe you thought he could be against this marriage. But, it didn’t cross your mind what he could have left behind back home. What he had to give up and what he had to let go.

“Hey.”

All your thoughts and worries flushed down the drain in an instant at the sound of the voice you’re starting to grow fond of.

Wonwoo arrived like a breath of fresh air with his light blue button down and jeans. The glasses are a bonus that you are lucky to see for the first time. You weren’t aware that he wore them. In fact, you have never seen him wear casual clothes until today. If you were frowning earlier, you are blushing now because of how good he looks.

“Sorry I’m late,” he sincerely apologizes as he walks towards you. “I’m not gonna lie. I overslept.”

Come to think of it, you have been standing outside this terrace for quite a while now. Thinking too much can be a good distraction to the point that you won’t even notice that you have been waiting.

You cleared the rest of the afternoon to sneak in some wedding planning. Meanwhile, Wonwoo decided to take the night shift yesterday and take today off to join you.

You shake your head and give him a small smile in understanding. “It’s okay. I just arrived too.”

That was a lie, but it doesn’t matter. Especially now, in spite of getting the right amount of sleep, you can tell that he is still tired and sleepy. And, adorable. But you would never let him know that.

“It didn’t look like it though,” he counters, making your brows raise. “You looked like you were already here for a while. A penny for your thoughts?”

Your eyes roll at his teasing tone while he just smirks.

But then, you figured since he already asked, this could be the right time. “Can I ask you something?”

Wonwoo crosses his arms, pretending to contemplate your request. “It depends. Am I in trouble?”

“No,” you deadpan. “You don’t have to answer though. That’s what I can guarantee.”

“Fine by me.” He relaxes his arms to his sides and stands close to the railing you were leaning your body weight against.

Well, okay. Your palms suddenly started to sweat. Maybe it’s a bad idea to pry about his past. What’s the point of bringing it up? What do you need out of this anyway? Why the bother?

Yeah, let’s just not, you decided to drop it but Wonwoo already beat you to it.

“Let me guess,” the Prince noticed your silence and decided to take the matters in his hands. “Is it about my ex-girlfriend?”

Heat immediately rose to your cheeks, embarrassed by how could you let it get this far. “I’m sorry. Nevermind. Let’s just go inside. They’re probably ready for us.”

You were fast to lift your feet from the ground and honestly, if you could, you’d run away and never return. But, Wonwoo was faster. He was faster to grasp your hand and make you stop from taking another step in a heartbeat.

You’re not one to let your head hang low and avoid eye contact, but here you are doing everything in your power to not meet Wonwoo’s eyes. You’re also not one to grow flustered easily. You always know what and how to make the last say.

But again, here you are tight-lipped and wishing to be buried underground.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he promises while tilting his head to the side, searching for your eyes. “I’m not making fun of you and I understand that it’s inevitable for this to be not brought up.”

You relent by nodding and finally turning your body to face him. “Okay.”

Wonwoo smiles and caresses the top of your head. “This is not something you should be worrying about.”

His brazen touch made you feel small yet comforted.

“Do you really want to marry me Wonwoo?” You whisper between the two of you.

He blinks then furrows his brows. “What kind of question is that?”

You frown, you’re supposed to give me an answer. “I just thought that maybe it’s better to call it off already before we regret anything in the future.”

“Y/N,” he calls for your name for the first time. “My past relationship is already in the past. I am not dwelling from what happened and what could have been. I am here now and that’s all that matters.”

“Don’t play smart with me,” you scoff and pull yourself away from him.

But Wonwoo just laughs and tightens his hold. He now holds both of your hands and strangely enough, having his hands entwined with yours is nice.

“Why? Does the princess don’t want to marry me?”

“I don’t actually have much of a choice, do I?”

Now it’s Wonwoo’s turn to scoff. “Who’s playing smart now?”

You burst into a fit of giggles and Wonwoo does the same.

It’s kind of scary to feel this way. Feeling so reassured and secured with your relationship with Wonwoo like it was the two of you from the get go. It seems so easy. You are at ease and it terrifies you.

It’s time for work, you slap yourself back to reality. You can’t continue thinking about Wonwoo especially now when you have matters to take care of and clients to satisfy. You sigh and pick up your coffee mug to sip some only to see that it’s already empty.

You quickly reach for your telephone to request for a refill.

“Coffee? Again?” Jeongyeon reprimands before you could even speak. “Your Highness, this is your third cup and it’s only nine o’clock in the morning.”

You ignore her exasperated tone. “I know.”

“How about some bread instead? You’ve had enough caffeine to last the week.”

“Please just bring me one more,” you plead while resting your palm on your forehead, feeling a headache coming up that could actually last the week. “I promise that would be my last cup.”

You can hear Jeongyeon sigh in defeat before muttering a soft okay.

You should have chosen the bread instead of the third cup of coffee because not less than 15 minutes after drinking it, your stomach feels like it’s burning inside by how painful it is. You thought a glass of water can help minimize or dwindle down the pain but it’s of no help.

What’s worse is you suddenly feel hot in spite of the air condition inside your office being on full blast. Your hand brushes against your face and it is wet. Why am I sweating? You quietly groan as another pang of pain hits you. You think you might vomit.

Maybe you should go to the restroom or whatever. For now, you just want to move in the hopes that this uncomfortable and sickening feeling would go away. You push yourself up from your chair with a lot of effort because your body doesn’t seem to have any more intention to cooperate with your mind.

You decided you’d rest at your apartment for a while and just go back in the afternoon on the assumption that you’d be fine by then.

Slowly and painfully, you walk to the huge doors of your office and with every step you take, you’re catching your breath. You reach the door and clutch the knob tightly, desperate to grab some painkillers and just sleep this off.

However, before you could twist the knob and take further steps, you were falling to the ground. Your body doesn’t want to act on your decisions anymore and the pain on your stomach is just way too unbearable, you can’t even stand straight.

And just on time, Jeongyeon opens your door and enters, chirpy as usual, “Your Highness, you have a visi--- Your Highness!”

You were not sure if your eyes could still register what you saw before you blacked out. But, you were positive that you saw the one and only Prince Wonwoo, one moment smiling and the next rushing towards your limp body on the cold tiled floor.

#seventeen scenarios #wonwoo scenarios #seventeen scenario #wonwoo scenario #seventeen fluff #wonwoo fluff #seventeen #wonwoo #fic: ifliys

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mandoalorian · 3 years

Text

I Believe In Love [Maxwell Lord x F!Reader] — Eight: Courage

Summary: When you find your calling to leave Themyscira, you venture out to the World of Man with intentions of helping and healing a very specific person's relationship with his son. You've heard his voice before, but only in dreams. You've felt his pain and anguish and you've never been able to relate to anything more. But things don't come easy for you, and they certainly don't come easy for him either. [This series contains spoilers for WW84 and is my interpretation of what happens after the movie ends].

Warnings: canon typical violence

Word count: 5,000>

Masterlist

Previous - Chapter Eight - Next

You awoke to the phone on the nightstand ringing. Maxwell groaned, rolling over and pulling the pillow over his head. You tiredly opened your eyes before taking the phone off the hook and holding it against your ear. “Hello?” you asked, your voice hoarse and your throat sore. It must have been the implications of yours and Maxwell’s actions from the night before. Max moaned and wrapped his large arm around your naked body, pulling you into his chest and resting his chin on your shoulder.

“It’s me,” Diana snapped back quickly. “I’ve been calling your room for the past fifteen minutes. What’s going on?”

“O-oh,” you groaned, rubbing your eyes and pulling out of Maxwell’s grip. You sighed and propped yourself up on some pillows. “I’m sorry Di, I guess we must’ve slept through the phone call. I didn’t hear anything.” you admitted.

“Listen, we only have two days in Greece so if we want to find the dreamstone we have to work fast. Meet me in the lobby in fifteen minutes or I’ll go without you. I already have a lead.” Diana instructed and you heard the phone slam back down on the hook with a ring.

You turned to Max who had fallen back asleep, his snores gentle and light as his chest slowly rose and fell with every breath. He was so peaceful. When he was asleep, it was one of the few moments where he wasn’t ridden with stress or anxiety. And you wished you had the rest of your life to admire his tender movements.

“Max, wake up, we have to go.” you whispered, shaking him gently.

Maxwell mumbled something incoherent and rolled over, resting his head in your lap. You smiled, feeling your cheeks heat up as he shuffled further into your body. You smoothed out his golden hair and traced the features of his face with your index finger. So beautiful. So perfect.

You imagined spending every single one of your future mornings like this, in bed with him, his face buried in your lap and his gentle snores echoing throughout the room. Your naked legs were tangled together and neither of you had ever felt so comfortable in your life.

“Max, baby,” you cooed, leaning down and pressing a soft kiss into his forehead.

“Mmm, good morning.” Maxwell grumbled, rubbing his tired eyes.

“We slept in,” you sighed, letting your hand trail down his body and lazily circle his tan chest. “Diana is waiting for us downstairs. We have to go.”

“I don’t want to,” he whined, almost child-like. “Wanna stay here with you- foreverrrr.” he purred, pressing a tired kiss to the inside of your thigh.

“Maxie, please don’t make this any more difficult than it needs to be.” you hummed seriously, although you were trying to hold back a smile. If anything was going to wake Maxwell up, it would be that nickname. He opened his eyes and pulled off you.

“Okay princess, I’m up.” He said, running his hand through his wavy morning hair.

“Princess? I told you I’m not a-”

“Think of it as a term of endearment, sweetheart.” he said, pressing a kiss into your nose.

“Oh.” was all you managed to breathe out before his lips caught yours.

***

Just as she had stated, Diana was waiting for you in the hotel lobby, dressed fully in her red, blue and gold warrior costume. It had garnered quite a bit of attention, but nothing Diana Princess of Themyscira wasn’t used to.

“You said you had a lead?” you quizzed, quirking your eyebrow and taking a step closer to Diana.

“Yes, Dr. Minerva,” Diana said, immediately glancing at Maxwell who’s eyes had become comically wide. The name clearly meant something to him. It rang like alarm bells in his head. “Or Barbara, as myself and Max know her as.”

You turned to Max, confused as to why Diana was being particularly smug. She’d acted the same when she mentioned Barbara and Max back at the Smithsonian yesterday. “Who is this Dr Minerva?” you asked him, looking at him with the most innocent, doe eyes. Your voice was soft but riddled with curiosity. He wanted to tell you, he wanted to tell you everything it’s just… things were difficult. He’d done things with Barbara that he’d be afraid of you knowing; afraid of what you might think or if you will think any less of him. He couldn’t stand the fact you genuinely had no idea. It was a long complicated story. He hoped to tell you it one day - but knowing that you might not have much time left on Earth, was it really worth it?

“Maybe Diana is better off explaining.” Maxwell scrunched up his nose, dismissing your question. It brought back too many memories that Max would prefer to just ignore. Even though ignoring his past trauma was how he got into this mess in the first place. If he’d learned one thing from Diana, it was that he must face the truth no matter how difficult it may be.

“No,” Diana shot back, but her voice wasn’t laced with venom as Maxwell expected. “I think you’re better off answering this one.” Diana smiled a perfect smile. Maybe smug wasn’t the word to describe Diana’s demeanor, but she certainly knew something that you didn’t, and she was being particularly hidden about it.

“Well Max?” you narrowed your eyes. Why was he being so secretive? Who was this woman?

“Uh-,” Maxwell trailed off, avoiding all eye contact. He took in the features of your face, admiring your beauty with all he had and thinking about how he didn’t want to lose you. He loved you. And you deserved to know. If Max could open up to you about his childhood and about his pursuit of the dreamstone, he could tell you about his short-lived relationship with Barbara-Ann Minerva. “Shit, okay. I had been searching for the dreamstone for a long time when one day, a newspaper headline told me that there was a robbery at a jewellery store, and that the Smithsonian had all the stolen treasures. Including the dreamstone. So I went to the Smithsonian and requested to see Dr. Minerva because I did my research and I knew she was the fresh faced gemologist they just hired a week earlier. And she was… beautiful,” Maxwell seemed to get lost in the memory of her vibrant blue eyes and blonde wavy hair. His lips then curled into a frown. “But so ditzy... I saw straight through her vulnerabilities and insecurities in an instant and I used that to exploit her and get the dreamstone. I gained her trust when I told her I’d be donating to the gemology department at the museum, I charmed her at the charity gala and I wooed her in her office and took the stone.”

Maxwell seemed to gloss over the chain of events but it didn’t really matter. He’d explained what he needed to. You felt a pang of jealousy strike your heart at his revelation. You had been made aware from Mrs Stagg, Ted and Julianna, Diana, and even Max, that he’d done bad things and made terrible mistakes, but you couldn’t help but feel an irk over what had happened in Dr Minerva’s office. “Wooed her?” you quoted him, folding your arms over your chest. Maxwell blinked, but then sighed and reached out to hold your hand.

“Really?” Diana sighed. “That’s what you're focused on right now? Dolos lives. The God of Lies lives.” she shook her head in disbelief and you bit your lip, supposing that she was right. You had bigger things on your plate. You were a goddess for heaven’s sake, you couldn’t let the irrational human emotion of envy consume you. But you had noticed the way his face softened when he was reminded of Dr Minerva’s beauty. And you couldn’t help but feel the urge to know what exactly went on in her office, the night of the charity gala. After a brief moment of silence and exchanged glances, Diana opened her mouth again. “I had a contact in D.C., Babajide, who knew all about the dreamstone and the powers of the God of Lies. Myself, Barbara and Steve met with him when we found out Maxwell had become the dreamstone.”

“Hey- how did I not know about Babajide?” Maxwell frowned. He’d been researching the dreamstone for years and he’d never known of such a man. A man who supposedly had all the answers about the stone.

“Irrelevant,” Diana rolled her eyes. “Seriously guys, this is important. You need to pay attention.”

“I am!” You and Maxwell exclaimed together, in an unpredicted unison. Diana quirked an eyebrow and you felt a warmth cross your cheeks. Ancient Olympian tales would describe moments like that as soulmate-ism.

“Babajide knew so much about Romulus and the exact dreamstone that Max got a hold of so I paid him another visit and found out he had knowledge on Dolos’ dreamstone too. Only…” And Diana let out a long sigh before pinching the bridge of her nose. “He told me that Barbara had visited him a day earlier, asking him of the same knowledge. ‘Asking’ is putting it nicely. Apparently Barbara was a menace and threatened Babajide. And Babajide told her everything he told me. It’s more than likely that Barbara is already here, in Greece, seeking the stone for herself.”

“She sounds dangerous.” you said quietly. Maxwell held his head in his hands.

“I don’t think I can face Barbara again.” He said, shaking his head, fearful.

“Max I don’t think we have a choice. We have to get the dreamstone before she gets it. What do you think she’ll do with the stone once she has it?” you asked Diana.

“I can only imagine the worst,” Diana shook her head in dismay. “Barbara was complicated… she craved power just like Maxwell only… she had nothing to lose. I fear that she’ll wish to become the dreamstone.” As the word’s left Diana’s lips, Maxwell’s heart sank and he ran off, disappearing amongst the lobby crowds. “Do you think he’s okay?”

You stood for a moment, watching as his dirty blonde hair descended behind the grand staircase. No, of course he wasn’t okay, and you were the only one who truly knew how much this business with the dreamstone had affected him and harmed him. He had come so close to losing everything and so learning that Barbara might make the same mistake as he did, hurt him too. No matter what happened between Barbara and Maxwell, he clearly cared about her. “Excuse me.” you told Diana, following Maxwell through the crowds.

You just noticed him heading through an alcove and outside of the resort. He pushed his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose and stood by the pool, relishing the fresh air and trying to regulate his panicked, erratic breathing. “Max! Max!” you called after him, pushing past the people until finally you were by his side, grabbing his hand. “What happened back there?”

Maxwell said nothing, instead he just looked into the golden horizon. “Max?”

“Maybe I shouldn’t be here,” he told you. “You have Diana. What use am I?”

“We need you Max,” you promised him, placing your hand on his cheek and gently turning his head so he was facing you. “I need you.”

Maxwell smiled softly and felt himself lean into your warm embrace. “I’ve never felt needed… or wanted… until I met you.” he confessed and you felt tears prick your eyes at his admission. You knew that feeling all too well.

“I know, me too. Back home, all the other Amazon’s were fighters and warriors… like Diana. But not me. They made me feel useless… like I had no point. Like I was a mistake. My mother would tell me that Zeus created me for a reason, just like all the other Gods and Goddesses, and that one day I’d serve my true purpose. That’s why I’m here today, with you. I already know that the years of humiliation and feeling like an outcast will be worth the few days that I get to spend with you, Max.”

Max sighed softly. “I never thought a Goddess could feel like an outcast,” he told you and you pursed your lips into a fine line, nodding in affirmation. “I’m sorry.”

“I think we have more in common that meets the eye.” you giggled softly, dropping your hand flat against his chest. Maxwell wrapped both of his big arms around you and pulled you into a hug.

“I think so too,” he agreed, pressing a soft kiss into your hair. “We better catch up with Diana then,” he told you, taking your hand. “Let’s put an end to this.”

***

You had been walking for miles in the blazing Greek heat. Maxwell had unbuttoned the top of his shirt and his collar was slightly wonky. His hair may have been disheveled and the blonde locks may have been sticking to the pearls of sweat that beaded along his forehead, but you still admired his beauty. He was truly wonderful. He was quiet most of the journey, and he didn’t have the agility or stamina that you and Diana had. Sometimes you’d have to take stops and have water breaks or toilet breaks. You tried to include him in conversation but his discomfort wasn’t lost on you. It was clear enough that his relationship with Diana was complicated, to say the least. Little did you know, the three of you were about to become a whole lot closer. You and Diana laughed and talked for hours, sharing stories about your time together on Themyscira.

“Zeus is my father. Zeus is your father. We’re basically sisters,” you nudged her, and she giggled. Maxwell scrunched up his nose. Sisters?! He ran a hand through his hair and continued to listen in your conversation. “It’s just unfair that you got to be Princess of Themyscira and I was stuck living a sheltered life with my mother.”

“It wasn’t always easy being a princess,” Diana scolded, but in a warm and polite manner. “It was all about duty. But hey- you’re a goddess, you know all about that.”

If Maxwell Lord had a dollar for everytime he thought he was in a fever dream… he might have been able to afford Black Gold Cooperative’s utility bill. He’d always been a realist. He’d never engaged in fantasy movies or novella, but there was something about overhearing a conversation between a Demi-god and a goddess that just didn’t feel real.

He knew it was. He’d seen Diana in action himself. Hell, he’d seen the powers you possessed. Albeit, when Diana mentioned how you possessed double her power, he was shocked to say the least. Diana could barely hold off Barbara in the White House but with you here? For once Maxwell finally felt hopeful.

As you furthered deeper into unknown plains, a sudden coldness enveloped you all. It was like a dark, enigmatic spirit ghosting between the three of you, and just like everything else that had happened over the past four days, it couldn’t be explained.

“Do you feel that?” Max finally asked, breaking his silence as he folded his arms over his chest. A shiver raced down his spine as Diana increased her pace and approached the forbidden tomb. “Look at this place. She took us to an ancient burial site, it seems. Like ancient Greek ruins.” he told you, scoping out the place.

“I feel that, yes.” you hummed, your mind wandering the origins of the cold air. Diana’s cries alerted both you and Maxwell as your heads both snapped in her direction and watched her push an enormous boulder away from the tomb, revealing an opening.

“Are you as strong as that?” Maxwell asked, his mouth gaped open in shock.

“Stronger.” you winked before taking his hand and dragging him towards Diana.

The cold spirit then enveloped you, Diana and Maxwell, whispering words of admission, encouraging you all to come forward. “Don’t you think it’s a trap?” Maxwell asked once you were deep enough in the cave that you had hit a point of no return. Even if it was a trap, there was no going back now. You were faced with two path-ways.

“The Sword of Athena is this way,” Diana pointed to the right pathway, otherwise known as the pathway she stood before, and then she pointed her other finger to the left pathway, “and Dolos’ dreamstone is that way. I say we split up and rendezvous here. Maxwell, come with me.”

“Wait what?” Max asked, narrowing his eyes.

“No,” you told Diana firmly. “He is coming with me.” “You really think it’s wise to let Max Lord accompany you to get the dreamstone?” Diana quizzed quietly, stepping closer to you and breaking any distance. Her dark eyes flicked between you and Maxwell. “After everything he’s done.”

Diana’s hiss was quiet, but not quiet enough to go unnoticed by Maxwell. He knew he wasn’t going to do anything. He was a changed man - but the realization that he’d have to prove to the people he hurt that he was changed, suddenly overwhelmed him. He’d have to prove himself to Diana, and even prove himself to Barbara before he could put all this behind him. There were still steps Max Lord had to take in order to gain full closure of his trauma.

“I trust him.” you said through gritted teeth. Maxwell felt a wave of relief. You were so pure of heart. So angelic. You took his hand, nodded goodbye to Diana, and guided him through the left path-way.

“How much further?” he asked. You had been walking hand in hand for around five or ten minutes, only your lasso of Hestia illuminating the cave. Before you could reply, you felt the walls and ceiling of the cave begin to vibrate and crumble. “What’s that?!” Maxwell asked again, this time panicked and looking around erratically.

“We might not have much time.” You said, feeling your own heart rate increase speed as anxiety settled in you.

Something wasn’t right, that much was clear. You tightened your grip on the businessman’s hand and began to run, pulling him with you. Within seconds, you had reached your destination. Maxwell was heaving and panting but he straightened up and fought for composure when he noticed a dim, amber light illuminate your skin. It wasn’t your lasso of Hestia… not this time. He slowly looked up and followed your gaze, gasping when his eyes set on the dreamstone.

You had completely frozen up, struck by awe as you took in the beauty of the citrine stone which stood erect on top of a Greek pillar. “Wow.” you mumbled, swallowing the hard lump in your throat.

The stone was practically identical to the one Maxwell had utilized just a week ago, and just seeing it again, in its full glory, sent electric bolts of dread through his body. He couldn’t be here. He couldn’t do this. Not again. Being in the same proximity as the stupid stone that had ruined everything sent Maxwell into his fight or flight. “I can’t- I can’t do this.” Maxwell shakily declared, his coffee coloured eyes glazed with panic.

“It’s okay,” you whispered, taking both of his hands and coaching his breathing. “Let me get the stone and we can head on out of here.”

Maxwell closed his eyes and nodded. If you could trust him, he could certainly trust you. You brushed a chaste kiss against his lips and pulled away from him. It only took a few steps on your approach to the stone before the walls began to crumble again, even more so than previously, and the ground beneath you began to split.

“Shit!” Maxwell cried as he stared at the crack in the floor between you both. It was deep and only getting deeper. If you didn’t run now, you might have gotten separated. He called your name, terror rampant in his voice. “Hurry!”

As you were about to grab the stone. A voice stopped you. A voice that Maxwell thought he’d never hear again.

“The stone belongs to me.” she said coldly. You huffed and opted to ignore the grave voice, taking the dreamstone from the pillar before spinning around on your heel and turning around.

And when you saw the sight before you, you dropped the dreamstone and let it fall to the rocky ground beneath you. Trepidation consumed you and suddenly, it felt like your whole life was on the line. “Maxwell!” you cried, your hand immediately dropping down to your lasso and curling your fingers around the rope. You scowled angrily, your gaze flicking between Max and the woman who was holding him by his neck.

“This- this is Dr. Minerva!” Maxwell choked, tears streaming down his cheeks as Barbara tightened her grip around his throat. Her once blonde hair was white and knotted, and her black kohl eyeliner smudged down her cheeks. Her tights were ripped and a sleeve was missing from her Cheetah print fur jacket. She is not at all how you’d imagined her.

“Let him go!” You begged as anger swelled in the pit of your stomach. “Let him go now!”

Maxwell’s eyes squeezed shut and he let out a groan, his knees wobbling as he struggled to even stand up straight. It was only Barbara’s strong grip of his neck that was keeping him upright. He was hurting. The love of your life was in pain.

“Give me the stone.” Barbara growled.

You picked up the dreamstone and passed it her way. She took it, willingly and let go of Maxwell, throwing him to the ground. The glint in her eye as she analysed the citrine was enough to terrify you. You ran to Maxwell’s side, dropping to your knees and nursing his body.

“Hey! Max, are you okay?” You whispered, smoothing out his hair and running your fingers along his face. He nodded wearily, rubbing the scratches on his neck from where her sharp, cat-like, fingernails had dug into his skin. You helped him to his feet and swung an arm around his body to support him.

“Barbara.” he called, gaining the attention of the doctor.

“No,” you chastised Max. “Don’t. There will be another opportunity to get the stone.” But he wasn’t going to give in that easy, he had to play his cards right. Luckily for you, manipulation was one of Maxwell Lord’s most tactful skills.

“Barbara, did we end things on a bad note? I must admit, I thought we had something special… me and you.” Maxwell said, his voice hoarse. He pulled out of your arms and sluggered towards the gemologist, who had finally looked up from the citrine stone and towards the businessman. For a split second, you saw a glimpse of humanity flicker in her eyes.

“You renounced your wish,” Barbara said, her grip on the stone as tight as ever, but her heart ached as Maxwell approached her. “You were weak. The dreamstone deserves to be with someone like me.” Even her words sound forced and unnatural - like they weren’t really coming from her. Had she not renounced her wish? You wondered what she had even wished for.

“I couldn’t agree more,” Maxwell coaxed. He had gotten so close to Barbara, he was able to cup her face and rub the height of her cheekbone with his thumb. It was an action he’d performed on you many times, but even watching this play out, with your own two eyes, you could tell it was different. It was colder and more forced. He had that fake television smile, not the smile you had been blessed to see so many times. “I just hoped things could’ve been different between us.”

“Max, what are you saying?” Barbara asked, goosebumps lacing her arms and you noticed the way her grip on the dreamstone loosened under his touch.

“Everyone has something to lose,” Maxwell whispered. “I could have all the power in the world but it would mean nothing to me if I lost Alistair, my son. Tell me Barbara, does that really make me weak?”

Barbara considered his words for a few moments. “No.”

Maxwell nodded. “What do you have to lose?” Maxwell whispered, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.

Barbara sniffed, a single tear dripping down her cheek. She was once so warm and compassionate, so friendly. There was one thing. Only one thing she thought about losing.

Just then, the dreamstone slipped from her grip as the lasso of Hestia curled around it and pulled it away from her. But it wasn’t your lasso.

“Diana!” Barbara gasped, her face hardening as she quickly and fiercely wiped her tears away. “That dreamstone belongs to me!”

“I can’t let you do this Barbara!” Diana cried. “This has to end now!” You and Maxwell ran towards Diana and she passed you the dreamstone. “Get out of here!” I’ll hold back Barbara.”

You handed Maxwell the dreamstone and equipped your own lasso, circling it around until it wrapped around a rocky ledge at the end of the cave. “Hold on to me. One hand around me and keep tight a hold of the stone!” you commanded as the walls of the ancient temple began to crumble around you. Just before you set off, you saw the silver gleam of Diana’s sword of Athena as she wielded it before Barbara.

“Shouldn’t I hold on to the lasso?” Maxwell asked, sliding an arm around your waist and holding the stone tight against his chest.

“Just trust me!” You shouted over the loud rumbling around you. You gripped on to your lasso firmly with both hands before shooting off in the air.

“Whoa!” Maxwell screamed, squeezing his eyes tight shut the second his feet left the ground. “Are we flying?! Are we flying?!”

You giggled as your bodies glided through the air. Max might have been holding on to you for his dear life, but somehow he knew he would be okay. That he’d be safe and you wouldn’t let him get hurt. You rapidly approached the entrance to the cave and used the last of your might to safely land. Maxwell had no time to catch his whereabouts when his feet hit the ground, as you clipped your lasso back to your belt and ran with him to the edge of the ruins.

You hadn’t been in there too long, but by the time you had exited the ancient temple, it was already nightfall. You looked back and there was no sign of Diana. She must have still been in there with Barbara, and you wondered what was going on.

When Maxwell held the dreamstone, he felt opportunistic. He could make a wish. He had the possibility to make a wish again and have a do-over. He knew where he went wrong last time. He could make it right. He could wish for you to stay… and for you to live a peaceful, happy life with him and Alistair. He could wish to win the custody case. He could wish for so many things. But it was the softness of your touch which interrupted him from his intrusive thoughts. The way your fingers gently grazed across his knuckles and you held his hand.

“We have to destroy it now.” you whispered, looking into the glowing citrine rock.

“We?” Maxwell questioned. His eyes were dark and wide. “We don’t even know how.”

“Only the truth can destroy the lies. But my mother said I had to believe in love. Love would destroy the stone. Truth and love… truth and love…” you chanted as you tried to piece together the puzzle.

It suddenly hit Maxwell like a ton of bricks. “True love,” he said out loud, his gaze flicking from the dreamstone to you. “True love will destroy the stone.”

It made more than sense, and Maxwell had worked it out on his own. “You’re right…” you whispered. You squeezed Max’s hand and then reached over to the dreamstone. You placed your hand on the stone, and the tips of your fingers touched the tips of Maxwell. As you both held the stone together, the magic began to work and the stone grew hot and tingled your skin. Very soon, Dolos’ dreamstone - the final dreamstone - fizzled away into a pile of glittering dust and blew away in the cool Greek wind.

You and Maxwell both stood there in silence, still holding your hands out, but this time there was no dreamstone. You had done it. The dreamstone had been destroyed. The God of Lies was dead. It was over.

“You did it,” Maxwell was the first to break the silence. “You destroyed the dreamstone.”

You had both been thinking the same thing. The fact you had both placed your hand on the dreamstone and that your combined energy was enough to disintegrate the possessed rock. True love. It was hard to know what to say. Of course you were in love with Maxwell Lord, and knowing that pretty soon you’d have to leave him, made your whole body ache to the core. And Maxwell felt the same about you. He’d never been this happy in his life - but spending his days with you and Alistair felt so special. You were his guardian angel, sent out from Themyscira to aid him and help him. To rescue him. How could he not love you? But still, neither of you said anything. How could you ever tell him that you loved him when you were going to leave him? It would only make things harder when it was time to go. You winced and blinked away unshed tears.

“No,” you whispered, turning to look into Maxwell’s honey coloured eyes. “We did it.”

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soulmate-game · 4 years

Text

Bio Dad Bruce Wayne Month 2020

Day 5: Overprotection

Disclaimer: Dick was adopted when he was 12 in this fic. Just for math’s sake.

—*—*—*—*—*

“What.”

Damian stared at his father, face carefully blank. Bruce grimaced, shifting.

“I said, you have a half sister. Biological.”

Four sets of eyes bored into him, from all of his sons. They were gathered not in the Batcave for once, but just one of the sitting rooms in the Manor.

“... and what, Father, does that have to do with the French class visiting Gotham?” Damian asked again, posture steadily growing stiffer and more and more stone like. He was trying hard to suppress emotions, but not even he was quite sure what those emotions were yet. Anger? Fear? Resentment? Probably. He might have detected some excitement there too, deep, deep down. Bruce took a deep breath, trying to prepare himself for this.

“Well. I’ve kept up with her life, but last time I checked she had no idea that she was adopted. When her birth mother died, it was right around the time I adopted Dick. She was still an infant, and I knew I was not equipped to handle taking care of a baby—“

“Father,” Damian interrupted again. “You sent her off. Have her up for adoption,” he said slowly, as if realizing that that would have been his fate had his father known about his existence earlier, as well. It was almost ironic, considering how Bruce seemed to have a problem with adopting other children nowadays. Bruce nodded.

“She was adopted by a couple in France. Paris, to be exact. I’ve kept up to date, asking them to just send me a letter or email once or twice a year about the general stuff she’s been up to. Nothing too invasive. A few pictures. And last time I asked them, they said that she had no idea about being adopted or that I was her father,” Bruce sighed again, running a hand over his face. “But I think she does.”

“Why?” Jason asked, confused as everyone else to the change in subject. Except Tim and Damian, who seemed to be quickly connecting the dots.

“Oh boy,” Tim breathed. Bruce just nodded.

“Her name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng. She is the one who organized the trip for her class to come here, to Gotham. She is the one who entered and won our international internship competition, and turned that into an excuse to get her entire class to come here for two weeks. To get to know the place she will be living for her internship next year, after she graduates Lycee, France’s version of highschool essentially.”

Tim winced. He had been in charge of the internship competition, and Bruce had given him free reign. He had chosen the winner without even thinking to run it by his adoptive father.

“Bruce—“ Tim tried, but the man just held up a hand.

“I don’t blame you. I haven’t been paying too much attention to her life, and I didn’t expect her to do something like this. But we know now that, if she does know and this isn’t a giant coincidence,”

“Unlikely,” Dick agreed, wincing. “Possible, but unlikely.”

Bruce huffed in agreement. “Then, we know she is very resourceful, determined, and has skills that impressed Tim enough to choose her out of tens of thousands of contest participants worldwide.”

“The minimum requirement for a Wayne,” Damian finally managed to bite out, still coping with this proverbial slap in the face but doing his best to handle it. He was seventeen damn it, and had come a long way from who he used to be. He could handle this. He could. He would.

Bruce rolled his eyes, and then leaned forward with his hands braced on the table. “Okay. So now we need to make plans.”

“Plans?” Jason asked, frowning. “For how you’re gonna tell her without getting your faces plastered over every tabloid in the city right?”

“No,” the older man shook his head. “Plans to keep her alive, unharmed, and unaffiliated with us until she leaves. I will not be making any public appearances unless absolutely necessary, so trips to the Tower are out of the question—“

“Are you…” Jason’s eyes were wide. “Trying to keep her out of our Shitshow? Because yeah, kudos to you even if it took you way too long to learn, but if she went through all this trouble to come here then it's probably too late.”

Dick nodded. “If she’s anything like you and Damian, there’s no way she’ll back off easy. Avoiding her will only make it worse on you, and probably the rest of us too.”

Damian stared straight into his father's eyes, glare sharp and searching. “What is this about, Father? You have not worried this much about any of us—“

“Because none of you were as naive!” He barked, quickly catching himself and taking a breath. “You all had a way you could benefit from this life. A way I could help you. But Marinette has both of the parents she has known her whole life, they treat her wonderfully. They care. She’s never had to worry about constantly moving, or fighting, or going hungry. The only deaths she has ever experienced have been from afar and due to natural causes. She designs as a hobby and has no problem with socializing or handling emotions in a healthy way— introducing her to our life holds no benefit for her. The only thing it can give her is unnecessary danger and risk and secrets.”

“Yeah, well. I guess Batman doesn’t know everything, does he?” A new voice startled them all from the doorway, making everyone's head whip over to see who had managed the near-impossible and snuck up on all of them.

Standing there, leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed, was a short part-Asian woman in her late teens. Her midnight black hair was cascading down her back in one thick braid, tied off at the end with an indigo ribbon. Her eyes were a piercing cobalt blue, matching those of Bruce perfectly. Her jaw was clenched, and the infamous Bat-glare coming from her was directed right at the person who made the expression infamous in the first place.

“Marinette,” Bruce breathed, shoulders squaring. “Your plane isn’t supposed to arrive until tomorrow.”

“It won’t,” she agreed. “I took a portal here. You see, my extensive research into Batman’s known habits and tactics, which I started after I figured out about your alter ego last year, informed me that you tend to go to the extremes to protect people you deem incapable of protecting themselves, and are also prone to idiotic self-sacrificing behavior in the form of purposely making yourself look like an ass.”

Jason chuckled. “She’s got you down to a T, B,” he quipped with a grin despite the caution still in his eyes. “But let’s back up a bit, little Spitfire. What’s this about a portal?”

Marinette pushed off the doorframe, walking closer to the scattered group. Tim and Jason were spread across one sofa, Damian on the other with Dick, and Bruce was occupying an armchair. Marinette just walked until she stood where she could easily be seen by everyone, but also had nobody at her back.

“The portal is part of a bigger story. Like, the fact that father dearest wanted to protect me so badly that he placed the JLE in Paris, but didn’t realize that relations with that branch were so bad that the JLE never informed him or the JLA about getting kicked out of France and reassigning themselves to Italy. Bruce never kept a close enough eye on the city, because he wanted to keep emotional distance, and therefore was completely blind to when a supervillain showed up and terrorized Paris for almost five years,” she continued, her glare never leaving Bruce’s face.

“I found out about being adopted when I was eight. I found out who my biological father was when I was thirteen. Last year, I finally put in the work to connect Bruce Wayne to Batman. And yeah, I never told Maman and Papan, because they have never completely understood me. They wouldn’t have understood that I was fine with having no contact with you, back then. That my snooping had nothing to do with being unhappy with them as my parents. They would have immediately assumed they were inadequate when I am merely curious by nature. But then I ended up being chosen to be one of the child heroes that fought said domestic terrorist that showed up five years ago. And I sure as hell couldn't tell them that a magical artifact showed up on my desk one day and that the god inhabiting it told me to fight the monsters the villain made and just, just go with it. I couldn’t tell them when I went from being one of two Parisian heroes to being the leader of a team. I couldn’t tell them when my elderly mentor, unable to fight by our side but who had at least provided emotional support and knowledge, passed away and gave me his title and responsibilities. I’m sick and tired of being protected, Monsieur Wayne,” Marinette didn’t seem to notice the tears that had begun to fall.

“I’m sick of it. I know you were trying to keep me safe, but I fought a war I wasn’t prepared for. I died, thousands of times. But my own powers and the powers I have my partners brought me back to life. Over and over. I don’t need protection, damn it. I don’t need you to distance yourself, because you're the only fucking person I can call a parent who might understand,” she held out a hand, her scowl turning into a gentle smile. “I have so much I need to talk about. Before I drown under all these secrets. Please. I’ll go back through another portal before my parents notice I’m gone, but I’ll be back in town tomorrow when my plane lands. Just. Please, don’t push me away. That’s all I ask. I want to get to know you, all of you. I… I need family who understands.”

“Thousands.” Bruce repeated, all of them still recovering from Marinette’s very sudden, info-dumping speech. “You died… thousands of times?”

Marinette laughed, but it was a sad sound. No mirth there. “I gave my friend a magical artifact that reverses time, and the artifact that gives me my own powers can reverse any damage from a fight I use it in. Even death. Sending untrained teenagers to fight a villain three times their age makes some kind of failsafe like that kind of necessary.”

“Fuck,” Jason cursed under his breath. “Well. You’re welcome to join the living Zombie club,” he offered. The girl snorted, giving him a watery grin in thanks.

“I’m sure you know about my stance on powers and metas,” Bruce decided to say, wincing immediately after. That wasn’t what he meant to say. At all. He earned another brief glare for it.

“I’m not a meta, and I only have powers when I use the artifact to transform, thereby borrowing powers from the miniature god that the artifact houses. Think of it like doctor fate, but my gods are actually not parasites and my powers are much more… specialized. I had to learn combat on my own, and I was able to train in my sleep with the past users of this artifact. That includes people like Fa Mulan, Joan of Arc, and someone you actually know— Hippolyta. I’ve mastered more fighting styles by now than I care to remember, and I’ve done gymnastics since I was three. I don’t know if my parents told you that in their letters. I even won the gold in the nationwide France gymnastics competition two years ago. I assure you, I don’t rely on my powers nearly as much as you might think.”

Bruce swallowed. “I can… greet you when your class arrives.”

Marinette grinned. “Well, that’s a start.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Idk what happened, I don’t know if I like this at all but oh well. I’m posting it anyway. Maybe one of you will like it. I… couldn’t really find any other way to do this so oh well. Also, I think Mulan was a past Dragon..? But I put her as a Ladybug because I Can.

@momothefemur @ladybug-182 @starlightshield @trippingovermyfeet @greatcatblaze @sam-i-am-0222 @bluesimani @ruelukas22 @acoolspacegirl @iamablinkmarvelarmy @meme991001

#maribat #ml x dc #mlb x dc #b!dbwm2020 #bio dad bruce wayne #platonic daminette #platonic brucinette #day 5 #not my fave at all

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ragingpancake · 3 years

Text

I Will Try (To Fix You) - Part 2

It’s ten days before Carson deems Rodney “well enough” to return to his quarters. To date, this has been the longest infirmary stay that Rodney’s ever had and truthfully, he should probably stay a bit longer. His kidneys still aren’t functioning as well as they should, which means Carson’s been closely monitoring his water intake and urine output and a whole host of other things that John knows Rodney is embarrassed about. He’s also not entirely steady on his feet, courtesy of the muscle spams that wrack his calves and his thighs, bad enough sometimes to nearly bring him to tears. It’s ten days before John, Carson and Elizabeth have a very real, very difficult conversation about what a prolonged stay in the infirmary will likely do Rodney mentally, left with nothing really to occupy his time except, well, time to think about just how close he’d come to death. Carson is reluctant to release him; they haven’t yet gotten him back to solid foods and of course his kidney function is still a concern, but John knows Rodney, knows that he needs to be anywhere but here and he argues his case: Rodney can come stay in his quarters. His team is grounded for the foreseeable future, courtesy of John who is unwilling to go off-world without his entire team and while he’s offered to temporarily reassign Teyla and Ronon to Lorne, they share his line of thinking. Rodney can come stay with John, but he has his whole team who’ll be watching out for him, who will bring him for twice daily check ins, if needed, who will monitor any time spent in the lab, who just want Rodney to have some semblance of normalcy during his recovery. It must be an impassioned speech, because by the time he’s done, Elizabeth nods her consent and John finds for the first time in ten days, it’s a little easier to breath.

--- Rodney, predictably, complains about the arrangement. He’s not keen on having a babysitter and that hurts John’s stunted feelings more than he’d ever admit out loud. But when Carson makes it clear that the only option is an extended stay in the infirmary, he relents pretty easily and all that’s left is to prepare John’s quarters. Easy peasy. Right? Wrong. It turns out that the room John’s claimed for himself isn’t quite meant for two people. It’s small and while it’s fine for just him, he knows that it’s going to be too cramped, too claustrophobic and so he spends the eleventh day scouting out some of the larger quarters near the East Pier with Teyla, pretending to understand when she makes suggestions based on where the light from the rising sun falls and which room has the best view of the ocean, which she believes will aid in Rodney’s recovery. He’s never been much into new age bullshit that seems to be pretty common across two galaxies, but he’s willing to shove a couple of crystals up his own ass if it means getting Rodney better.

He enlists Ronon, Lorne and a couple of marines to help move their things. John leaves his own quarters to Wallace, Gregory and Barnes despite how uncomfortable the thought of them seeing his own personal effects makes him, and he takes Rodney’s room with Ronon and Lorne. Rodney, for his part, has a lot of stuff. It takes the better part of the afternoon to get everything moved over, including Rodney’s deceptively heavy prescription mattress, his four laptops and the whiteboard that he’d swiped from the labs within the first week of their arrival. John’s stuff, save for his own bed, mostly fits in a couple bags. By the time they’re finished, he’s tired, shoulders and back aching, reminding him just how fucking old he’s getting, but still, he trudges down to the infirmary, plastering a smile on his face for Rodney as he steps in through the paneled doors. “Hey buddy,” he greets. “Got us all set up in some new digs. Wait until you see the tub in this one,” he says, nodding as Carson comes over, Rodney’s chart in hand. “He all good to go, Doc?” “I suppose he’ll have to be, now won’t he?” He asks and there’s a scowl there that John cheerfully ignores. “I expect him back here at 10 and 2, Colonel. A minute late for either appointment and he’s back here, d’you understand?” “10 and 2, just like a steering wheel. Got it, doc. How about the food situation?” “Yeah, what he said,” Rodney frowns and John knows from previous experience just how miserable a clear liquid diet can be. “I’m alright with him startin’ on solids, but take it easy,” Carson warns. “Nothin’ too heavy,” and Rodney waves him off, but despite his lackadaisical nature, John really is taking this seriously, committing everything to memory. “Got it. We good?” Carson pauses for a moment before he sighs. “Aye. But not a moment late, Colonel!” He warns as Marie and Simpson come, pushing a wheelchair that Rodney tries to vehemently refuse. John settles a hand on his shoulder gently. “Hey, hey. C’mon. Easy. It’s a pretty long walk to the pier, alright? Let’s not push it too much on your first day.” “Traitor,” Rodney mutters under his breath and John actually does smile because it feels a little like it used to before those God damned Carneans. John steadies the wheelchair while Marie and Simpson maneuver Rodney into it and after what feels like forever, they’re finally on their way. “You did get my laptops, right?” “Yes, Rodney.” “And what about the Athosian soaps from the bathroom? Those were made specially for me by Gita and, and, and the medicinal properties-- “We got ‘em.” “My mattress?” “Of course.” Rodney harrumphs like maybe he’s expecting John to have forgotten something, as if John would ever. “What about—” “Your favorite red pen that you use to mark up all those damn physics journals? Yep. Got that too. We grabbed everything, buddy. And if there’s somethin’ you need that we don’t have, just say the word and we’ll make it happen.” Rodney falls strangely quiet at that. --- It’s easy to live with Rodney. Lorne had very nearly pissed himself from laughter when John said so after the first few days and honestly, John took a little offense to that on Rodney’s behalf. Sure, he’s messy and he’s loud and the longer he’s out, the more of his biting sarcasm is returning, but John’s all for it, especially when he considers the alternative. (And he does consider it, frequently, usually in the dead of night when he wakes up from nightmares of vomit and grey skin, of an antidote recovered too late). But honestly, save for the fact that John now has to deal with Rodney’s dirty clothes strewn across the room and the stupid whiteboard that takes up the space that John’s surf board should be occupying, not much has changed at all, a testament to just how much time the two of them had spent together even before this. John follows Carson’s instructions to a T, and okay, maybe that’s a little different too because John’s always been the one to avoid the infirmary at all costs when it comes to his own health and

well-being, but he’s not taking a chance with Rodney’s. He takes him to his appointments and at nights, when the muscle spasms seem to be the worst, John sits with him on that stupidly comfortable bed, kneading the tight muscles in his legs as he tries to distract Rodney with shitty 80s movies and random banter about anything and everything that he thinks will goad Rodney into a tirade that’ll take his mind off of the pain. He even lets Rodney have four hours a day in the labs, split into two hour segments with an hour break in between. Normalcy. That’s the goal here and Rodney’s always at his best when he’s in his element, berating scientists and defying all laws of physics. That’s where Rodney is when everything goes to hell. --- It’s been twenty days since the Carneans. Ten days of the two of them cohabitating, ten days of Rodney slowly working his way back to normal. He’s been subsisting entirely of power bars and MREs, which, while not entirely healthy has been cleared by Carson if only for the fact that they provide sustenance without being too taxing on Rodney’s still delicate system and John’s just thinking about whether or not he can try to convince Rodney to try something a little more substantial from the mess later that evening when the call comes in over the radio. “Zelenka to Colonel Sheppard, please respond.” He sounds harried and John closes the latest mission report from Lorne’s team, already on his feet and moving when he taps his comm. “Sheppard here, go ahead Doc.” “I need you in Science Lab 3 please. There is a… situation.” “What do you mean by situation, Radek?” But when Radek keys up his comm again, John can hear the panicked wheezing in the background and he picks it up to a swift jog. “I believe Rodney is having a panic attack,” he says. “I have tried to bring him around but nothing is working and I--.” “I’m on my way. Sheppard out.” He meets Ronon in the corridor and he doesn’t even have to say a word before the Satedan is altering his own course, following after John. They can hear it before they even open the door. Rodney’s on the verge of hyperventilating, the sound of his ragged breaths interspersed with pained moans and Ronon is quick to clear the lab of well meaning scientists who are gaping at the scene while Radek tries to shield Rodney from view as much as possible. “Hey, hey,” John says soothingly, trying to keep his voice calm despite the way his heart is beating against his ribcage. “I’m here, buddy. Rodney, look at me. Hey, hey,” and he reaches out, finger under Rodney’s chin as he tips his head up, wild blue eyes meeting hazel. John wants to take Rodney’s hand, but his arms are wrapped around his middle, clutching his stomach so tightly and John glances over at the toppled plate on the floor, shards of glass now mixed with what looks like not-meatloaf. “Talk to me, Doc,” John calls over his shoulder at Zelenka. “What the hell happened?” “He was out of power bars, but hungry, so Miko thought perhaps he might be enticed to eat by something from the mess, knowing that this,” he gestures, “was Rodney’s favorite. He managed a couple of bites and everything was fine until… until it was not.” “Cramps,” Rodney rasps, reaching out to grip John’s wrist painfully. “Cramps. Poison, I—I can’t--.” “Get Carson down here,” John snarls, voice softening as he turns back to Rodney. “Hey. Listen to me, buddy. Carson told us this could happen, remember? The cramps. That’s why we started light. You’re okay though. I promise, Rodney. You’re okay, I’m right here and I need you to breathe.” It takes a bit of manhandling but John manages to get Rodney up enough that he can slide behind the other, drawing Rodney back against his chest, taking a couple of deep breaths. “C’mon, buddy. Breathe with me. You’re alright. I’ve got you. I’ve got you, Rodney.” That’s how Carson finds them a few moments later, Rodney trembling against the other, but thankfully no longer hyperventilating. “He’s alright,” John says, glancing up at Beckett. “Panic attack when

he tried to eat and cramped up.” “I thought—I thought--.” John pets through Rodney’s hair gently. “I know. You thought it happened again, but it didn’t, right? We’re gonna go down to the infirmary with Carson though and let him check you over so you can see for yourself.” “Easy, lad,” Carson says as Ronon comes over to help Rodney to his feet with more care than he’s shown anyone else, guiding him over to the gurney before he tugs John to his feet as well. “John—” Rodney rasps, the name catching his throat as the cramps hit again and he curls on his side, swallowing hard against the panic beginning to rise again. “I’m here,” John reminds him again, moving to take Rodney’s hand. “You’re alright, I promise.” And he is. He will be. John will be sure of that. --- The panic attacks don’t last long. He still cramps painfully when he eats, but the team is always with him at meal time to help him through it, John always, alwayseating a third of his food before switching his tray with Rodney’s for him to finish it, confident that there’s no poison. The effects of what had been done to him still linger, still present often and painfully, and sometimes, John doesn’t think what he’s doing is enough. That he should be doing more, that he should’ve done more back on that fucking planet to have saved Rodney from this entire ordeal. But Rodney’s getting better. John can see that when he goes longer and longer without a muscle spasm, or the first time he pees on his own and calls John in to see how clear it is, proof that his kidneys are finally starting to function normally. “You know,” Rodney says one night after they’ve pushed their beds close enough together that if they each scoot over to the edge, their shoulders are touching, “it probably won’t be too much longer until we can go back to our own quarters.” There’s an uncomfortable knot that twists itself up in John’s stomach at that but he swallows against the lump in his throat and says casually, “oh yeah? That’ll be cool. I guess.” “Yeah,” Rodney says and then he falls silent for a moment, as if waiting for something. Apparently, his impatience has returned full force because he doesn’t even give it a half a second before he’s speaking again. “I mean, unless we just… don’t?” Okay. That’s unexpected. “I just… this has been incredibly difficult, Colonel. Uh, John,” he corrects, “and you’ve… I know that this is probably because of some weird, misplaced guilt you’re harboring, because that’s how you are, Lieutenant Colonel Martyr, but… this has been okay… hasn’t it?” “Rodney, I--.” “I know I’m difficult. I’m messy and I’ll be going back to keeping weird hours soon enough and, and, and I know I can be annoying, but you’ve put up with that remarkably well and so I just thought--.” “I don’t want to go back to being alone,” John blurts out and he can feel the tension leaving Rodney’s body beside him. “Good. Me neither.” They fall into a comfortable silence then for a moment, the only sounds being their quiet breathing and the sound of the ocean waves through the open window. (Teyla was definitely right about picking this room.) “It’s not guilt,” John says after a moment. “I mean, not that I don’t feel guilty, because I should’ve never--.” He clears his throat and stops himself before he goes down that road. “You’re… I dunno. You’re McKay. Rodney. And I… when I found you that day, I thought you were dead,” and he can feel Rodney flinch at that, but he needs to get this out, he thinks. “I thought you’d died and I just… realized that I would’ve gone out of my fucking mind if you had, Rodney. Like, legitimately crazy because you’re… You’re you and I’m--. I’m yours. However you want me. If that means we forget this conversation ever happened and go back to how it was before all of this, I’m okay with that, but I just… I had to tell you because I came really fucking close to never getting another chance to.” Rodney is quiet, doesn’t say anything but after a moment, John can feel the other’s hand brush against his own before he

squeezes two of John’s fingers. “I think that’s the most I’ve ever heard you say at one time in all the time we’ve known each other.” And John laugh out loud at that, an actual laugh, and as he does, he feels that knot inside of him loosen just a bit. “Which is to say,” Rodney continues, “that I… would very much like to notforget this happened. I… suppose that I’m yours too. Maybe I always have been.” John doesn’t know where they’ll go from here. He’s under no delusions that this will be easy, any of it, but when has it ever been? All that matters though is that they have time now to work through it, to figure it out together. Maybe they’ll fix each other.

#mcshep #hurt/comfort #hurt rodney mckay #whumped rodney mcay #john sheppard #rodney mckay #sga #stargate atlantis #fandom: sga #angst #poisoning #panic attack

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