#druig fics

And now that they have Steve back, now that the horror of the Red Room has been ended, they can break some of the team out of prison. Steve had a plan, and they stuck by it and everything went as smooth as butter. Only the team wasn’t intending on staying together. Clint said he didn’t want anything to do with this anymore—or at least for a while—and said he’ll lay low. Scott Lang was just grateful to be broken out of prison by the same man who asked for his help—he could barely shut up on the jet. Wanda wanted to be with Vision, and Sam said he had nowhere to go, really, except to stick with the team. Whatever’s left of them now, anyway.

So Y/N, Nat, Sam and Steve stayed together. On the run from the law and every known authority of the world, only having the used jet at their disposal, but they’ve made do of it for now. King T’Challa has been generous enough with his resources and technologies—the amount that the Avengers chose to take, that is, being as noble as they are—and so they’ve survived for the last few months on the run. It hasn’t felt any different to Y/N than her life was before. She was always running from something or someone, she just didn’t know if that was enemies, Dreykov or herself.

One thing she really wants to do with the time she’s given now is find her real, biological parents. Now that she’s found out that Alexei and Melina were just hoax-parents for a good cover, she knows her real ones are out in the world somewhere. At least Melina didn’t tell her they’d died, she sort-of dodged the question. Sadly, Y/N knows that Natasha’s mother was silenced by Dreykov quite a while ago already, and she hopes it’s not the same case for her own parents. She’s always wanted to know why she’s wrapped up by golden flicker-flames when she’s running, and why she can run and move faster than anyone she’s seen—even Nat—, and why her eyes glow a bright amber when her emotions are heightened. She’s been a mystery to herself and others since her broken childhood.

Y/N knows her parents are either magicians like Dr Strange, or they or she herself was experimented on when she was a child, like Wanda and her lost twin, or maybe her parents had extremely interesting abilities. Whoever or whatever they are, even with Nat’s knowledge and help, and with the jet’s never-ending database and search tools, they’re nowhere to be found. She’s tried a DNA test before, in Tony’s lab, but the results were inconclusive – that’s how he put it. Though Y/N wasn’t sure he was telling her everything at his disposal.

During their journey to another empty wasteland of the world with, hopefully, good views and some food, Sam, Steve, Natasha and Y/N receive a call to their jet’s communication system. They give each other strange glances, as this is a very much unexpected thing, especially during a time when they’re running from every- and anyone that knows how to contact them, and should definitely avoid calls. So they stay quiet and wait for the call to drop as they still look at each other and try to think of who could be calling. Only someone that has their communication system links. Wanda, Vision, Rhodes… No one else really.

“I know at least one of you is there,” a voice cuts through in the midst of the call still ringing, a voice they weren’t expecting at all, or at least were expecting the least of all. The team’s eyebrows and heads raise in surprise and they look at each other again, “come on, pick up! I know we’re… having a break-up at the moment, but I need your nomad opinion on something.” Tony speaks clear as day into their ears.

“Should we pick up?” Y/N looks to Nat with unsure eyes. She shrugs, and Y/N knows how Tony offended her the last time they spoke. She sighs courtly.

“Come on, I’m really having a crisis over here,” Tony almost whines, “there’s some weird people here that I don’t know if I can trust. Well, they look human, but I don’t think they are—but they say they know Y/N.” Her eyes grow to the size of dinner plates, and the trio look at her with shared confusion. “They say it’s very important… something about the end of our world…” Tony sighs, “just come. To the compound, please. You’re the only ones that can help.”

Silence settles upon the jet’s interior as every teammate thinks about what they should choose to do. Tony keeps quiet, uncharacteristically giving them some silence to make up their minds. Y/N just slumps into her seat. They say they know Y/N. Weird people. Could they know Y/N? How could they know her? No one knows her—hopefully—she doesn’t have any friends, any family. But wait—

“We’ll be there soon,” Steve picks up the call and answers Tony without consulting the others. But they don’t disagree with his view—if Tony says it’s urgent, it must be. No matter how pissed they are at him, or how upset he is with them. Some weird people at the compound… How did they get in in the first place? Why there? The end of the world? Steve looks at his team after hanging up that short call and sighs quietly, “let’s just see what’s going on over there. Decide the niceties and apologise later.” He huffs and walks to the captain’s corner of the plane.

The others agree in silence and settle in their seats. Sam, though, walks to their equipment room, thinking a fight might go down in the worst-case scenario. Natasha wants to do the same, but she sees how distraught and out-of-touch Y/N is, so she walks over and sits right next to her. “Who could they be—friends from our Ohio neighborhood?” She attempts a joke with a small smile playing on her lips as she looks at Y/N. She can only give her sister a half-smile back, and then she shakes her head.

“I have no idea,” she answers, “I don’t have any friends. And what Tony said about them…” she shakes her head again, “they look human, but he doesn’t think they are… what in the hell?” Y/N rubs her hands over her face, her elbows now rested atop her knees as she’s leaned forward with the top portion of her body. She glances at Nat over her shoulder. “Are you sure that was all of the Red Room that we destroyed?” Her eyes hold genuine worry. “I mean… what if it’s them again?”

Natasha’s heart breaks at Y/N’s words, even though she’s voiced the small fear that’s been festering inside Nat for these past months, too, she just doesn’t want to admit it. Natasha moves her hand comfortingly along Y/N’s back and Y/N immediately leans upward and into Nat’s hold, where she wraps her arms around the younger girl, embracing her sweetly. “I’m sure,” she says, “of course, there are still conditioned widows around the world, but if that was them coming after us, Tony wouldn’t be making the call.” Natasha elaborates. “There’d be no one alive at the compound. You know that. You know how we used to work.”

Y/N nods. “Then I really don’t know who it could be,” she says, “I mean, if my parents left me or if I was taken from them and my name got changed, how would they even know where to look for me? How would they know how I look or-or what’ s my name? I doubt it’s them.”

“You have told me you think they might be… not entirely human,” Natasha points out, “what with your glowing eyes and really fast running. You could even outrun Pietro.” She says and utters a quiet laugh. Y/N smiles to that and nods. “Neither of that could have come out of the Red Room. Those weird things you inherited.” Y/N sighs and then sits up straight against the wall, making Nat’s hands fall into her lap as they now sit side by side. Natasha moves Y/N’s hair strands away from her face, and still notes the far-away look in the girl’s eyes. “Want me to do your hair before we land?” She suggests, knowing something that always manages to make her feel better. Y/N turns her head to see Nat and then nods with her head, a soft smile now on her lips. Natasha smiles wider, “okay, let’s go to the bathroom, the lighting’s the best there.” She stands up and extends her hand toward Y/N, who gladly takes it and rises with her.

As they sit in the jet’s bathroom, facing themselves in the mirror, the old lullaby comes into Natasha’s mind. She starts humming it as her fingers thread through Y/N’s hair, grouping strands up and then forming them into beautiful braids around her head. Natasha thinks of Yelena as she starts making the hairstyle, she tries to replicate the hairstyle Yelena had during their Red Room mission. She misses Yelena, and no doubt Y/N misses her, too. She begins to sing to Natasha’s humming, it now serves as the setting tone for the song.

“Сияай прощальный свет,” Y/N sings, “тот свет любви последней.”

Natasha smiles and decides to sing, too. “Полнеба обхватила зари вечерней тень.”

“Лишь там на западе бродит сияние,” they sing together and smiles adorn both their beautiful faces. The girls’ eyes connect in the mirror’s reflection and sisterly love for each other passes through them simultaneously. “Последная любовь...” Y/N wraps her arms around Natasha’s waist and locks them there, and Natasha grins, knowing how much Y/N adores physical touch and how it’s her love language. Platonic love language for sure, romantic – she’s yet to find that out. Perhaps it will be different once she meets someone she has romantic feelings towards.

“We’re landing!” Sam’s voice comes from the hall and the girls tense up a bit, Natasha having to finish the braids in a rush now.

“Just coming!” Y/N lets Sam know as Nat hurriedly braids the very ends of her hair and tucks them with pins into a crown around Y/N’s head. The hairstyle looks just like Yelena’s, and Y/N notices that, “thanks. I love this.” She tells Nat and gives her a quick side hug before they’re rushing out of the bathroom for the equipment room, where their combat-ready suits lay for them to wear.

The four nomad Avengers stand by the windows as they land on autopilot, and they see Tony standing in full armour in the corner of the landing field, just by the entrance door to the compound. Part of Y/N suspects that Tony just wants to lure them into the hands of authorities with this distress call, and, knowing him, that might be the case. After what Tony did to Steve’s best friend, and how he immediately treated Steve and everyone else like an enemy because of a disagreement, Y/N doesn’t trust the man very much. And what Nat said he’d told her right before she disappeared off the radar, Y/N doesn’t like him very much, either.

The team makes their way out of the jet silently and cautiously, though still trying to keep up with the intimidating nature they know they possess effortlessly. It’s only Tony, but it might not be. He knows what these four are capable of, they have no reason to intimidate him more. And yet, because of what’s happened between them, Tony knows they might not like him or trust him now. But he also knows that this matter exceeds any quarrels or their personal relationships. As the strange visitors put it, they have less than two days to save the entire planet Earth.

Tony takes off his head cover as the team of four near him, and the look of worry is the clearest look of all on his face. Sure, there’s doubt and fear, but worry has the brightest colour. Steve is the most forward one of the four, stepping closer to Tony than anyone else. The other three just give him doubtful and paranoid looks. Mistrust. Tony sighs, knowing he deserves it, but shakes Steve’s hand. “Cap,” he says with a nod, looking into the man’s eyes, “good to see you. Thought I might never have that chance again.”

Steve gives him the ghost of a smile. A lot is on the man’s shoulders, a lot has happened between him and Tony, but he still maintains a bright attitude and his usual kind nature. He just does so effortlessly. “Thought you’d never want to see me again,” Steve admits, and Tony chuckles to that sadly, “look, I’ll be honest here—none of us know if we can trust you.”

“I know, I know,” Tony nods, looking the others and their stares of mistrust over again, “hey, guys.” He raises a hand in greeting to them, but only Sam returns it. The women aren’t fond of him—not the first time in his life, but definitely one of the first—and so Tony settles back. “I won’t tell anyone you were here – I promise. Cross my heart and hope to die.” He puts a hand over his iron chest. Y/N sighs.

“We’ll get out before they come, anyway,” Natasha tells him, a glint of mischief in her eyes and voice. Y/N grins to that, knowing Nat is right. Tony smiles, realising that same thing.

“Where’s the trouble?” Steve inquires.

“Oh, you mean our humanoid guests?” Tony clarifies. Truth be told, he’d forgot about them entirely from the moment he saw Steve and the others. “They’re inside, let’s go.” He turns his back to the team of four and leads them inside. Natasha and Y/N still exchange looks of mistrust between themselves, but follow along. Tony leads them across the upper level of weapons and experiment halls and rooms, and Y/N and the others can see the group of people Tony mentioned in the great hall below, on level one. There’s… eight of them. Too many at first glance, but Y/N isn’t close enough yet to see what they look like and if she could know them. She doubts she does.

As the team descends the stairs to below, Tony steps back and only restarts walking down once he’s side by side with Y/N. She gives him a half paranoid, half angry glance, but makes no protest. “They said they knew me?” She asks him quietly and Tony nods.

“That’s why I plan on introducing you first.” He admits and Y/N raises her eyebrows. She hates open and public attention on herself, but this could be something important, so she guesses that Tony has made the right decision. The group of five reach the floor of level one and face the group of eight in front of them. These people have strange clothes on, Y/N notes that first of all, and each have their own colours. They really do look human. “Come on,” Tony gently nods with his head towards the left tail of the group, and Y/N walks over there by his side. “This is Y/N. You said you know her.” Tony says to two people standing in an embrace with each other. Their faces turn towards Y/N, looks of worry and fear filling their eyes, as well as tears.

By seeing the woman’s face, Y/N gets a strong feeling of deja-vu. Though not really deja-vu, more like familiarity and… recognition. But she just looks at the couple with wide, confused eyes. They don’t look much older than herself. Who are they? Why are they looking at me like this? “How do you know me?” She inquires in a quiet, but sure voice. Her arms are crossed over her chest in a pretzel to avoid picking at her fingers and therefore showing a clear sign of anxiety. This could all very well be just a circus act, and they could have SWAT clothes and equipment under all those weird robes.

“Well, there’s no easy way to say this, but,” the man starts to say, and he chews on his lip in clear anxiety, “I’m Druig. And this is Makkari,” he looks down to the woman in his arms, and she signs words with her hands. What surprises Y/N the most is that she immediately knows what the woman is saying. Hello, Y/N. She looks at her with confused eyes still, but then finds her hands signing a greeting towards Makkari, too. That surprises her even more. The man Druig smiles sadly, Y/N notices, at that gesture, “and we’re your parents.”

Now that sets her a couple steps back. Her head gets dizzy and she grabs onto the first thing closest to her, which happens to be Tony in his iron suit. He holds the woman and helps her steady herself. Tony looks at her to see what’s going on emotion-wise, and sees her eyes starting to glow a bright gold. That shocks the acclaimed parents, too, they each let out a gasp. Y/N looks at them once she’s steady enough again, and her stare is just fury. She doesn’t yet know why she’s angry. “How can that be?” She asks as she’s still in her state of disbelief, but she’s tipping over already. “Prove it.”

Druig sighs, his face nothing but sadness. Then he looks at her, and Y/N sees his blue eyes turned to the gold orbs she very well recognises every day in the mirror. And suddenly, in her mind it seems, she sees the man Druig with the woman Makkari, dressed differently though looking the same age as they do now, standing with a tiny ball of wrapped up clothes in their hands before a building stretching tall into the sky, its entrance door large, high and intimidating.

It seems they are to make a choice. And though it very visibly breaks their heart to do so, they make it. They leave the tiny ball right in front of the door, and with a closer look Y/N sees through Druig’s eyes that the tiny ball is just a tiny baby. Without asking she knows that it’s her, herself, wrapped up in clothes and fabrics to be protected from the outside weather. And now that she takes in how the building looks, she recognises it. The orphanage. The one she grew up in, and was later stolen from.

She doesn’t know how she saw those short moments, but as she blinks her eyes open, they’re gone and she’s seeing Druig and Makkari in front of her again, clear as day, in the here and now. Y/N doesn’t know what to think, what to believe, what to feel. If they really are her parents, then who are they, why did they leave her in the orphanage, where have they been all this time, do they know what happened to Y/N after they left her there? She finally looks into their eyes again.

“Who are you?” She manages to push out amidst all the other questions she wants to ask. She stands side by side with Tony now, but she knows her nomad group is close by, because she heard their footsteps coming closer.

“We’re Eternals,” Druig says, “we’ve been on Earth ever since its creation, watching over humanity and protecting them from certain… dangerous creatures.” He says not very convincingly, though Y/N can tell he’s telling the truth. “Though now it turns out to have just been a mission to collect as much human life as is needed for the planet to be destroyed. We’ve been fooled by our superior all this time, and we need your help.”

“See?” Tony whispers. “Told you it’s about the end of the world.” Y/N just gives him a glance before crossing her arms over her chest and looking suspiciously at Makkari and Druig.

My help? “Wait, so,” Y/N starts to say to get everything clearer, “you’ve been here for seven thousand years.” She says. “You’re seven thousand years old.” She states and the couple nods. “And apparently, you have magical powers. All of you, right?” Y/N looks around at the rest of the group of strangers, and they nod. That would explain why she herself has these weird abilities. She can’t believe this. “So…” she utters a dry chuckle, “why are you here now?” She looks back at Druig and Makkari. “Why are you here? Just to say hi? To tell us the world is ending while you haven’t helped in the least all the other times it was coming to an end?”

She didn’t expect anything more than she gets – the whole group being silent. “Yeah, we could have used your help against Loki and the aliens in New York.” Tony backs Y/N up, feeling frustrated by the news he’s received, as well.

“Or against Nazis in the 1940s.” Steve points out, his hand supportively resting on Y/N's shoulder. Makkari and Druig both see how this family—from afar not looking like one at all—Y/N has found is so protective over her.

“Or against Dreykov and his network of widows, who are girls trained to be assassins from a small age?” Y/N says and her voice reeks of disgust. Tears pool her eyes. “If you’re really my parents, why did you leave me at that place? Do you have any idea what happened to me?” Her lip begins to quiver and her voice shakes. She can’t keep her anger locked away anymore. “Why have you stood by all this time and just watched, knowing everything that happens in the world? Genocide, death, wars, little girls turned into assassins, people turned into monsters, thousands and millions of lives lost to pointless wars and disagreements?”

The desperate cries and voices of people under the rubble both in New York and Sokovia still ring in her ears as Y/N watches Druig and Makkari’s faces for any kind of answer. But she only sees sadness, regret, resentment towards themselves and their decisions. They’re folding into themselves because of this rightful outlash of a reaction, and it seems a part of them anticipated this kind of attitude from Y/N. They both know they did wrong, and have pulled themselves back from intervening in human affairs all this time. And they have many reasons for that, they just… want to let Y/N take her anger out. It feels better, it always does, even if it’s on them this time.

“I can’t do this,” Y/N raises her hands up in defeat, her eyes still glowing bright gold in her anguish, and she turns around and stomps away before anyone can say a word to her. Natasha gives her supposed parents a short glance that says much more than words would, and walks after Y/N. She affectionately lays her arm around Y/N’s shoulders and pulls her into a side embrace as they continue to walk further away from the group, into the depths of the Avengers compound. Hand in hand. Sisters.

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But Y/N shakes her head. “Dru, that’s not fair,” she calls out to him as he goes about his business, “you’ve hardly let me make food of late as it is.” She states, and looks at him through her eyebrows as her hand gently moves across every line and crevice on the wooden table’s surface. Druig just chuckles in response, and Y/N feels like she can feel his laughter in matter form instead of audio. It rumbles through his chest and back like subtle thunder and nearly travels to the floor boards through his body and feet.

“Uh-huh,” he responds casually as he takes the first steps to making breakfast. Y/N shakes her head, but her smile grows bigger. She loves him anyway, despite his stubbornness and pride. She rests her chin in the palm of her hand. She’ll let him do this. On one hand, it’s been nice—all those days he made meals for them both because Y/N was ‘injured’—only very slightly, if you ask her—it was nice that someone was doing that instead of her just doing it. Of course, she loves making food, and she loves to help. But after centuries of making food for yourself, deciding what every meal of every day is going to be, it gets repetitive and boring and she just grew tired of it all. So it was nice to be taken care of in that matter, for a while. Now, she thinks, it’s gone a bit too far.

But she lets him. After all, who is she to deny Druig? She loves him, whether she wants to admit it,  say it out loud or not. She loves him, she adores him, and she trusts him with her heart, her body, health and her life. And as she watches him from this couple-feet distance, rushing about the kitchen and humming (occasionally singing) along to the radio he’s turned on, his handsome back facing her, she can’t help but smile. She can’t help the flutters her heart moves in at just the sight and sound of him.

And as she glances at those back and arm muscles moving, she can’t keep out the memories and feelings of last night from invading her mind. They’re not really invading as much as they’re just coming back, fresh like the fruit Druig’s cutting up swiftly and skilfully with a knife. Those memories being so fresh that they even seem real, like the near past has flooded into the present in full colour, sound and motion, make her chest swell with warmth and her lower stomach fill with arousal again. She rolls her eyes and draws back into her chair, crossing her arms over her chest and her ankles across each other as she places them on the nearest of the table’s corners.

She gets an idea. And upon having that idea, seeing how far Druig already is in making her favourite breakfast, she wishes she had the power of speed her fellow eternal Makkari does. Alas, she’s quick as well. Y/N just has to make sure not to trip over her own feet while she runs across the yard. She gets up from the chair as quietly as she can and makes her way out of Gil’s house in the same manner. And then she’s bolting out of the door and across the backyard.

Y/N would never do it on any regular occasion, but she ruffles through Druig’s stuff in search of her favourite shirt of his. That medieval one. It should be called a robe, to be fair, but the times of present aren’t as medieval as the shirt, after all. She takes off the tank top she chose to wear just some ten minutes prior and instead shrugs Druig’s shirt on around her shoulders. She smiles once she’s done it and buttons the front closed, now beginning to grin at her marvellous idea.

She moves to go back to the main house, but suddenly the door to Thena’s room comes to her attention. For the first time in the last twelve to sixteen hours, it seems, she sees it clearly again. Y/N’s breath falls quiet, almost silent, and she carefully twists the door knob to get inside that very room. She makes no noise again, not meaning to wake her—even though Druig said it’s impossible—and peers inside.

And there Thena is. Sleeping in her bed, her back turned to the door and the curious Y/N, unbeknownst and unbothered by her presence and wonderings, softly snoring away in her deep slumber. As Y/N steps closer, she can see the veins on her face, her hands and feet, glowing a bright gold, and her eyes, as well. Two gold orbs glow even through the thickness of her eyelids, a sign that this is Druig’s doing. Y/N smiles softly. She can’t recall the last time—even though it’s been a few thousand years—Thena looked so peaceful.

She was always graceful and alight when she fought the Deviants. Goddess of war, considering fights and battles as tremendous fun. There was never a battle Thena turned down, even if she was tired or exhausted. And Y/N loved and admired her for that, she still does. Beautiful, strong Thena. Y/N can’t imagine what mad weary’s like for her. It’s already hurtful for Y/N and the other eternals to see her live with it, but to live through mad weary… it’s unimaginable. If Y/N could, she’d take it away from her in a heartbeat.

But what she can do, which she chooses to do, is be with Thena, protect her while Gil is gone. Be a sister to her and lay a blanket over Thena’s sleeping form, her shoulders and hips, all the way up to her chin. She does so quietly and lightly, still scared she’ll wake her up even though there’s no reason behind that fear. Druig is strong, he’s managed to keep Thena asleep while maintaining conversation and other activities with Y/N. She can’t believe his strength, his utter control, but not in an underestimating manner. Sometimes she just can’t believe he’s real.

Y/N closes the door behind her and leaves Thena’s house, closing the entrance door, as well. Nothing will disturb her, that’s for sure. Y/N knows that, yet she still feels this paranoia that Thena’s slumber is light and easily broken, like Y/N's own is. But Y/N tries not to think about Thena, or her slumber, or the heart-wrenching sickness inside her as she walks back towards Gil’s side of the property. She tries to think of Druig before she sees him to lift her spirits, and she succeeds in that very well. The memories of last night are still very much there, at the front of her mind. She smiles to herself sheepishly

Y/N steps into the kitchen, and is welcomed by a set table, and a surprised look on Druig’s face. It changes to relief immediately at the sight of her, and he shakes his head. “I was wondering where you’d gone! Thought you’d up and left m—” he begins to make a joke, but at taking a proper look at her, Druig’s face once again turns baffled, and his mouth hangs open for just a second. Y/N doesn’t at first realise why, but then she smiles ever so slightly upon realisation. Druig wants to ask ‘what are you wearing?’ or ‘is that my shirt you’re wearing?’ but he knows the answer to that question already. It’s his all-time favourite shirt to wear—a robe, to be precise—and she’s wearing it. If the events of last night, or the mere presence of her, already feel like a dream, then this is just beyond that, beyond his grasping. So Druig grins ear to ear at her and watches as her head and one of her shoulders rests against the doorframe and their eyes connect. “Come ‘ere,” a request is all that he says to her in response for now, uttering it in a quiet whisper as his eyes cloud with both love and lust. God, he adores her.

And Y/N does as she’s requested. Though she moves her feet slowly across the wooden floor, teasingly, and she enjoys every second of this short-lived and sweet torture Druig goes through as he watches her come over to him. When she’s standing right next to his chair, Druig looks up at her with his blue doe eyes and reaches his hand up to move it over her clothed hip, the fabric of his shirt as a border of restriction between their skins.

Quickly and unexpectedly, he grips both of her hips in his hands and pulls her down to his lap so that she’s sitting right across it. Y/N yelps in surprise, but muffles the sound with her giggles like before, and Druig wraps his arms around her frame to keep her close. His nose buried in her clothed chest, he inhales the combined aromas of her and himself from the shirt, and hums in appreciation. She is nearly killing him, and she knows it. Y/N rests her hands on his shoulders as that same mischievous smile lays across her lips.

“Very interesting choice of clothes, darlin’,” Druig says in a hush, and Y/N chuckles. She pulls back just a little so she could look at him, and she bends down so her forehead would rest against his in need of even more closeness. His eyes look up at her still, that same look of adoration that screams he’s whipped! strong and apparent in those beautiful ocean orbs. Y/N caresses his cheek with her finger lightly, and the touch erupts goosebumps across the man’s skin.

“I take it you like it,” she says in response, once brave about this idea, but now grown shy about it and shy about herself. Druig grins wider momentarily and then moves his hand just a bit lower, hearing a soft sigh from her in response.

“Like it?” He echoes. “There’s hardly anything keeping me from laying you on this neatly-set table and repeating last night at least twice,” Druig admits in a languid voice, and both that and his raspy voice send a shiver down her spine, a warm spike right down to between her legs, where she’s grown a want for him again. Druig grins at the effect his words have on her and looks up at Y/N again.

“Why don’t you?” She questions as her neck stretches upwards, giving Druig a better look and more space. He just buries his head in the crook of her neck and rests it there, laying kisses on her skin once in a while. Y/N’s hips begin moving against Druig’s slowly on their own, out of control almost, and he has to stop them with his hands to make his momentary point clear.

“Cause I wanna enjoy breakfast with you, princess,” he tells her, “just like this.” Druig draws a deep breath in before pulling away from her neck, and he can smell every bit of her. He looks at her again, and now both of their eyes are clear of that impossible-to-fight lust and animalistic want. They see each other a bit more clearly. “We have all the time in the world for whatever we want to do afterwards.” He assures her with a small grin on his face. Y/N nods, knowing he’s right. “And I’ll always want you the same.”

To this, she smiles, and bends down to kiss his lips. She can feel him growing aroused underneath her, as well, so it’s not like her intense want for him is one-sided. If she even needed more assurance… “If this is what me wearing your shirt does to you—”

“My robe,” Druig corrects her and Y/N raises her eyebrows. Druig has the look on his face that says he didn’t want to correct her—not really—but he did anyway, “it’s a robe, sweetheart.”

Y/N laughs at him. “Alright, your robe,” she says with a nod of her head, “then are you sure you could handle me naked around you all the time?” She makes sure and moves her hips down closer to his with a tempting raise of one eyebrow. Druig’s head falls against the back of his chair in pleasant despair—he feels what she’s doing to him and so he just lays back to take it in. And the thought of her naked around him all the time, well… That idea does things to him on its own. Y/N just laughs at his response and tucks one of her legs towards herself, so she could face the table and their breakfast while still laying comfortably across Druig’s lap, her legs now side by side across his. “Come on, let’s eat,” she urges him, “you wanted to so badly.” She reaches for the plate that was clearly meant for her at the end of the table with a grin on her face.

Druig hisses, but then sighs deeply as he shakes his head, and Y/N looks back at him to see a shy smile adorning his lips and a light pink blush tinting his olive cheeks. She grins wider and Druig looks up at her, feeling her eyes on him. “You’re deadly,” he tells her and bumps her nose with his own, making the woman giggle, “kill me with anything you do, you know that?” He asks her and she keeps giggling, their faces so close they can feel when the other will take their next breath.

“It’s not intentional,” she admits and Druig just shakes his head, partly disagreeing. She can’t not know how endearing and beautiful and miraculous every movement, word and sound from her is. But that’s the beauty of it, he guesses. She is everything he could dream of, does everything just the right way without even knowing it. Effortless.

“Well, I love it,” Druig pecks her temple and Y/N’s eyes, still half-lidded with a certain look, fill with love, as she acknowledges the affectionate motion and words. And do you love me? she wants to ask, but dares not to. It would ruin the moment, the other side of her thinks, even though that side is wrong. She doesn't ask the question anyhow.

Instead Y/N chuckles quietly again and leans her back against the table, picking a piece of fruit from her plate immediately afterwards and maintaining eye contact with Druig as she bites it down. “You do the same, you know?” She tells him with a slightly raised eyebrow, and Druig does his best to keep his cool, picking fruit from his own plate.

“Do I?” He asks, and Y/N chuckles at that same cluelessness in him that he must see in herself. Druig glances up at her with a shy smile and Y/N still smiles wider. She positions her legs once again on each of his sides, but raises one of her feet up to rest against his chest. He doesn’t mind at all, just gives it an amused glance.

“All the time,” she says with a nod, “I mean—have you seen yourself, Dru?” Y/N shakes her head as her eyes fill with an obsessive kind of fascination, and Druig laughs. “You’re like—”

“No, stop it,” he interrupts whatever ego-boost compliment she was about to say. And even though he doesn’t like it, a smile sits comfortably on his lips, “no more complimenting me. Enough.” Druig pleads, in a way, and rests his head on the back of his chair so he could take a clearer look at her. Y/N has disbelief in her eyes and shakes her head softly, chewing on another piece of fruit now.

“Who knew you would be so bad at compliments,” she wanders with another gentle head shake and Druig almost snorts. Instead he laughs to avoid sounding mean or in more denial.

“I’m not bad with compliments—” he defends.

“Oh? You’re not?” Y/N taunts and then slips back down, closer to him on his lap. Her hand trails along his cheek as she looks intently into Druig’s eyes. “And what if I tell you that…” she raises an eyebrow, “you’re sculpted just like David from ancient Greece?” She suggests and grins at Druig’s immediate shy reaction. “That you have the prettiest blue eyes? That your voice could put gods to sleep?” She can feel the effect her words have on him, as much as he wants to deny it. He’s practically melting under her. “That you’re the most attractive man I’ve ever laid eyes on in my long life?” Y/N raises her chin up to look at him better and tries to keep her prideful smile at his reaction as small as possible. His cheeks are practically bright red and the smile he tries to hide is still apparent in his eyes.

“Alright, that’s it,” Druig shakes his head before gripping tightly onto her hips and pulling them even closer to his own. Then he swiftly—careful not to ruin anything—moves the plates and bowls on the table to the side, and then lays Y/N on the empty wooden space there, positioning himself above her. She giggles, knowing she’s proved her point, and leaves lingering touches across his semi-clothed chest with her fingers, “you wanna go again? We will.” He assures her in a playful air of manner and begins moving his hands over her hips and waist, beneath that medieval robe of his that she wears. Y/N just keeps laughing to herself quietly, but Druig quietens her with a kiss to her lips.

Might seem cliché and even corny, but Druig doesn’t care because he knows for sure for sure in this moment that he loves her. He loves her more than anything or anyone he might have loved before. He loves her, he loves being with her, and he loves how she makes him feel. It’s totally unselfish—he’d be fine by even loving her from afar, not having any of these privileges of her company, intimacy and privacy. But it’s who she is that makes him love her even more.  

It’s not long before they’re clawing at each other’s clothes and skin, before laughter and exchanged words turn into sighs and moans of ecstatic pleasure, and he’s inside her again. Y/N wondered last night how Druig ever manages to talk coherently during this very intimate intercourse between them, but she guesses that’s just who he is. In control. Of himself, his words, actions and surroundings, at all times. But this time he says not a word. Not as he’s kissing her neck and roaming his hands over every available spot of her skin, not while they exchange heated kisses, not while he plunges into her in such a way you’d think the world was ending any second and he had to make the most of it. Not while they reach their orgasms in near unison. He doesn’t say anything, and neither does she. No words are really needed then.

The need for them resurfaces only when Druig and Y/N are both breathing normally again, having regained their consciousness and touch of reality and he pulls out of her with a soft grunt. She still holds him on top of her, loving the warmth and security his build provides, and she turns her head to the side slightly to look at him. “We should shower,” are the first words uttered between them, and they come from her, and they make Druig laugh. She smiles, “we probably stink like rats.” Those words make him howl with laughter, and Y/N feels every high and low tone of it through the connection of their chests. If she could, she’d surround herself in that sound and make it into matter. Oh, if she knew that kind of magic…

Druig leans up from her, straightening his back and showcasing his chest before her in all its sculptorious glory, but doesn’t let her admire it for much longer because he pulls her up with him in no time. He grins, though, now knowing her enticing stares towards him that she just can’t avoid are well-meant, of course. And Y/N smiles at him before they tip-toe over to the shower at the very back of the room. Druig makes sure to turn on the shower head above them and Y/N makes quick work of getting rid of clothes they still have on before the heavenly water finally hits their skin.

First portion of their shower is spent in silence again, they quietly explore each other’s bodies. Every crevice, every twist and turn, every lump of muscle, every stretched and relaxed inch of skin. Featherlight touches on each other, occasionally fingers pressing into the skin, just to see how it feels, just to see how the other feels from that. Shy smiles break into giggles and longing glances turn into kisses. And then they’re holding onto each other, Druig’s arms around her shoulders and her arms circled around his torso. Her cheek mushed against his chest, she breathes him in and once again thinks about last night. Though not the events they just repeated, no. The moments before those. The moments of hesitance.

She wants to say something about them. She even wants to apologise for hesitating, for making Druig confused. But as she pulls her head away and sees the look in his eyes, and the overall expression of his face, that need to apologise or explain herself fades away. He looks content, and as she tunes into him with her power, she knows that he is content. Calm. Not only does she feel that emotion, but she also feels happiness and very strong love. No doubt Druig feels what she’s doing and he just smiles at her.

He holds no resentment for her wanting to know exactly what he feels. A part of him wishes that he could know what she’s feeling at all times. But to him, it’s not a necessary condiment to keep loving her or being with her. It mostly comes out of his curiosity about how her heart and mind work, not out of any need he’d have. But he appreciates her tuning in. And he guesses that’s where they differ. He doesn’t know whether the difference originates from their gender, but the difference is certainly there. He’ll take what he’s given, but she’s always more curious than him.

“You’re one of a kind, you know that?” Druig speaks softly as his hand cards through her front hair strands. Y/N gives him a smile and leans into his hand, partly to hide the blush that forms on her cheeks. “And just as bad at compliments as me.” He realises and they both laugh. Her forehead rests against his chest and Druig pulls her closer again, arms firm but gentle around her form. Water hits soothingly against their skin and leaks down around them. Sun rays shine through the small window of this makeshift shower room, and illuminates part of them. Making them look like angels from afar.

series taglist: @justifymyfeelings​​​ @kunkunieee​​​ @felicityofbakerstreet​​​ @hiraeth-maximoff​​​ @multiple-fandoms-girl​​​​ @measure-in-pain​​​ @marrigold-2002​ @thenassecret

permanent tag-list: @hallecarey1​​​​ @gabiatthedisco​​​​​ @v0idbella​​​​ @ur-gunna-h8-ths s​​​​​@betweenloveandfire​​​​ @but-legendsneverdie​​​​​ @rottenstyx​​​​ @deardeacy​​​​ @mavieesttriste16​​​ @intrrverted​​​ @the-freak-cassie-131​​​  @beverlyparkerr​​​ @gasbomb69​​​

druig tag-list: @quivvyintheclouds

It’s Druig, it’s Druig, her friend, her companion… Druig. Her mind empties of all things except him. Memories, feelings, stares, fights, conversations, and this vacation in the desert. He’s all that she feels, all that she can and wants to think about. She’s sure she hasn’t wanted anyone before like she wants him now. He truly feels like a drug, and then again her saviour, the one who sets her free, who makes her feel alive. Ignites a fire in her that none can extinguish.

But something clicks the wrong way inside her, and she pulls back from him, immediately jumping down from the rock, almost tripping over her own feet in the process. She balances herself, then holds a finger to her lips, the taste of him still lingering there, and looks at the man before her, currently clueless about her sudden movements. His hands fall into his lap from where they were holding onto her, as if he was momentarily holding thin air, a ghost. Y/N looks up at him, careful and, in some strange way, fearful of him, too. She doesn’t want to be, because the feelings were nice, and he’s wonderful, oh God, don’t let her get started on him. But there’s something off. Some sort of restriction.

“What’s wrong?” He immediately questions in a quiet, cautious voice, as he stares at the princess before him. Her grey dress whirls in the soft southern wind of the night, almost blending in with the colour of the ground in the semi-darkness around them. “Was it—was it me?” Druig doesn’t think he did anything to upset her. If he did, it wasn’t intentional. Touch her in a certain way that she didn’t like, or… He still looks at her, waiting for an answer. Y/N is trying her best to form one.

“It’s not you,” she immediately denies and pushes strands of her hair behind her ear out of nervousness. She gulps, “what just happened?” She tries to make sense of it, and still avoids his eyes. Cause as soon as she looks into them, she knows she’ll be in trouble. She’ll get lost in those beautiful eyes, she’ll give in immediately, she’ll forget any of this withdrawal. She already thinks it stupid, honestly, but she has to find a reason behind it.

“I…” Druig clears his throat, “I… sort-of kissed you.” He says. Yes, Y/N remembers that. “Then you kissed me,” he gestures with his hands as he talks, “and… we kissed. And now… you’re standing there.” He finishes, and looks into her eyes with his hurt ones. Yet she still avoids them. “Are you sure I didn’t do anything wrong?” Y/N nods vigorously.

“I don’t know,” she tells him, “I don’t understand what I’m feeling.” She shakes her head. “I didn’t want to—well, I didn’t mean to just—I liked kissing you,” she finally admits and can finally look into his eyes, as well. Druig smiles back at her, taking that as a compliment, and he even feels tears at the back of his eyes, and he wonders why, “and I like you. A lot. But I don’t know…” she shakes her head again, “I don’t know what made me pull back.” She looks at him again.

“Come here,” Druig quietly requests and gestures towards himself for her. And slowly, with cautious steps, afraid that something in her brain will make her jump back again, she makes her way towards him. Now standing before him, as close as she was a mere minute or two ago, she stands still, with nothing pulling her back. Druig carefully moves his hands back up to her waist now, looking into her eyes all the while, silently asking for consent, which she gives with subtle nods, “I like you, too, princess.” He tells her, his eyes looking up at her as he rests his chin gently against her tummy. “I like you so much I can’t even put it into words.” A flurry of butterflies and birds erupt in the pit of her stomach at those words, and she blushes so hard she’s sure her ears are red, too, and visible in the dark. And she smiles wide at him. Druig tilts his head slightly to the side. “So what’s wrong? Maybe some part of you feels like you should stay away from me,” he suggests with a gentle shrug, though his arms tighten slightly around her form, “we both know I’m the bad boy of our group.” Druig teases with a grin spreading across his features simultaneously. Y/N shakes her head at him, but her smile is still there.

After careful watching of her, after they stare silently into each other’s eyes and run their hands across the other, just testing out waters and each other’s boundaries, as well as how they feel under each other’s touch, Y/N sighs with closed eyes. “Perhaps we should give it a day.” She suggests, even though it crushes her to say so, to even think so. She just wants to kiss him again and again and again. And forever. But they have things to figure out. At least the part of her mind that she’s deemed paranoid thinks so. Y/N wants to give in, but part of her isn’t letting her.

Druig looks at her still, though the lids of his eyes waver, as does his hold around her waist. “Give it a day?” He echoes, searching for the words’ meaning. Y/N nods, then shrugs her shoulders as her hands push onto his own strong, well-sculpted shoulders. The ones she’d love to hold onto dear life for. “What d’you mean?”

She sighs again, quietly this time so it wouldn’t upset him or make him think he’s asked something wrong. He hasn’t. With these questions, by answering them, she answers some of her own. “I mean, this,” she motions between him and herself with her hand, “us two. I just… I don’t know. I like unexpected things, and I…” she presses her forehead against his and sighs deeply again. She feels so embarrassed about what she wants to say, “I want you, Dru.” She looks into his eyes as she says this to make herself feel safer. There it is again. Her beloved nickname for him. Druig knows she’s talking straight from her heart this way. Her hand even longingly moves along his shoulder, as if to accentuate her feelings.

“And I want you,” he tells her in response, gently poking his nose at hers in a tender manner. She smiles at that, “what else do you want? What’s keeping you from… from crossing this distance?” He runs his finger in a funny pattern across the clothed skin of her back as he speaks, and now shyly—she can’t believe Druig would be associated with such a word as shy—looks into her eyes, searching there for an answer. “Whatever it is, we can work it out together.” Druig moves his lips towards hers, leaning closer in to her, wanting to kiss her again. Desperately so. “Tell me, please. I will go mad if you don’t.” He admits, and succeeds in making both of them chuckle. Though there is some truth in his words.

Y/N smiles at him, but sighs again. “Maybe we’re just going too fast,” she suggests, “I don’t know… now that I say it, it makes sense somehow. For why I pulled back.” She explains.

“We didn’t even do anything, princess,” Druig argues, “nothing that’d mean that we’re taking… things too fast.” He pulls her closer to him once again by her waist. “Are ya just teasin’ me? You want me nice and desperate for you?” Druig teases again, and Y/N can’t help laughing at him in the gentlest, most quiet of manners. She gently slaps his shoulder. “I’ll be however you want me to be, princess.” Druig ghosts his lips over her neck. She sighs out quietly, adoring the affection and attention from him.

“Maybe we could wait until tomorrow,” she suggests, but her head is already languidly tilted upwards so Druig could access the most sensitive spots on her neck easier, “just the morning. Until we wake up.”

“Think you can do that, princess?” Druig asks quietly, his lips kissing messily around the area of her neck. He’s about to get to her favourite part, and he knows it, but he pulls away at the very last inch, and that makes her look at him. Her eyes half-lidded, full of lust, desperation, longing. Druig raises an eyebrow at her subtly, still caressing her back in the softest way possible. “Can you?” He tries to get an answer out of her as his hands start going lower, and they both know that Druig knows exactly what he’s doing.

Come on, Y/N, you can do this. What exactly do I want to do, in that case? She looks into Druig’s eyes, watches them in the partial darkness. They’re inviting, and they’re very convincing even now, when they’re just blue. She sighs, the tips of her fingers experimentively caressing the roots of his hair. “I’m sorry,” she says. That changes the look in Druig’s eyes, “I think we should wait.” That’s not an exact answer to his question, and they both know that. She hates to do this, and yet a part of her is convinced that this is the right thing. Druig tries to mask his reaction to her words, but it doesn’t work. She can see the slight hurt in his eyes, the disappointment. And she can tell he’s somehow, blind to her own struggles, blames it on himself. He thinks it’s something he’s done.

She presses a kiss to his head and pulls him close to her by his shoulders. She feels withdrawal from him, a physical hesitance now, but he keeps his hands on her back. She does her best at keeping her tears to herself, and is glad he can’t see her face. Because it’s destroying her, too. Maybe she did the wrong thing, after all? And they shouldn’t wait. But she’s made her choice now. Changing her mind so suddenly would just be weird. It would beg the question of why stop, why hesitate in the first place? She doesn’t exactly know the answer to that, wouldn’t be able to tell Druig if he asked. Perhaps it’s the human part of her, something inexplainable, unreasonable. Something you can’t find the roots of, something that can’t be argued with.

Perhaps it’s the fear to know him in such a way. Even though her body longs for it, and does so in such a fierce manner. Like she’ll suffocate if she doesn’t take the step further. But they’ve known each other for so long. How can this feel right? But then again, they’re both sure that if it really was unnatural, forbidden or unthinkable, their bodies wouldn’t feel this way. And it’s worked between Eternals before, Sersi and Ikaris being the prime example for it. This can work, and they’ve proved that. And it’s alright to feel this way.

But it’s too late now. Y/N and Druig walk in silence towards Thena’s house, making the unanimous decision to head to bed straight away. Y/N walks a few feet behind him, the sourness of the moment they pulled their embrace apart still fresh in her mind, in her heart, and on her lips, as if she can actually taste it. She feels bad for what she’s said, and she knows that it’s pulling Druig apart as much as it is pulling herself apart. She still works on keeping her tears inside, but her heart is quite literally on fire inside her chest. She is ever so sorry for putting a stop to the wonderful moments they had.

Without asking or negotiating, Druig once again takes the sleeping bag for the night, slipping inside it with ease and a huff that says so much. He lays with his back turned to Y/N, silently blaming himself for everything, even regretting to make any type of move towards her, seeing now that it startled her. He didn’t even take his shirt off before getting inside the sleeping bag. Y/N pouts her lips at that. And it’s his second night in a row in the sleeping bag, when she should be the one taking it tonight. She wants to argue against it, insist that he sleeps on the sofa tonight, all kinds of guilt making her want to do it. But she’s too tired, and she knows arguing with him won’t lead anywhere. It’d just end up with them going to bed angry, and she doesn’t want that. After what she’s already said and decided for them—which she thinks is wrong—she doesn’t want any more bad feelings.

But as she lays with her back facing his, alone on the old sofa, something doesn’t feel right in her. Something’s off with going to sleep like this. And she can’t sleep at all. Her thoughts are racing, making her heart beat ten times faster, and there’s no way she can forgive herself now. Can she somehow make it up to Druig? Is he sleeping? By the horribly tense silence and the lack of his snored breaths that he only makes during his slumber in the house, she can tell he’s not asleep. Just like her. Y/N turns over to her other side, and she sees his crouched over form, partly covered by the sleeping bag.

“Dru?” She gently calls, trying to sound as kind and simultaneously casual as she can. She sees his ears perking up, as well as his head, but he doesn’t move more than that. She huffs quietly to herself. She knows she kinda deserves that. “Can you just… come up here?” She whispers her request. Now Druig’s head turns towards her. His eyes tell it all, and they almost bring her to tears as she looks at him. “Please.” She barely catches her silent plea that she utters.

Druig’s eyes flash with some form of submission or giving in, and he nods in the most subtle of ways before getting up and out of his sleeping bag. Y/N scoots back until her back hits the sofa’s backrest and she watches him laying down beside her, no words spoken, and then she hands him the far end of the blanket that partly covers her body. He takes it, putting the fabric over his shoulders, but turns his back to her again. Her heart breaks for the millionth time tonight.

She lays staring at his impressively sculpted back, trying her best just to fall asleep. But her mind is distracted, and her heart is both breaking and racing back and forth. The man of her dreams, it seems, is laying right in front of her, and she’s doing nothing. When she could be doing so much. Or trying to do something, at least. She knows he’s not asleep, either. In fact, she just knows that his eyes are wide open, just like hers. So she gathers all her courage and taps him on the shoulder. When he makes no reaction or move in response, she presses her palm onto his shoulder and turns him to lay facing her. He obliges, doesn’t protest in any way, and looks at her. His eyes show exhaustion, sadness and just a smidge of annoyance.

“Dru, I can’t,” she tells him in a whisper, glad that he’s looking into her eyes just as she is into his. Druig’s interest is slightly picked, and he scoots closer to her. Is she going to tell him whatever truth she holds inside her like a secret? Is she going to tell him whatever’s bothering her?

“Can’t what?” He inquires further in a silent whisper, as well. Y/N gulps, feeling her courage and guts slowly faltering and growing smaller in her chest, and that lump in her throat just getting bigger.

She takes a deep breath in. “I can’t wait until the morning.” She finally admits and immediately searches his eyes for any response in him that could be good. Can he forgive her moment of weakness back there, in the yard? Can he take a second chance on her?

Truth be told, that’s all she had to say. That’s all it takes for Druig to stop blaming himself, to not regret anymore that he kissed her first, to stop doubting himself, to stop any size of grudge that he wanted to hold against her. He gives her a light smile and rests his hand on her cheek. Y/N almost cries at the affectionate motion. “So can I kiss you again?” He asks her in that same, quiet whisper.

Y/N nods. And she doesn’t stop the tears from spilling anymore. She knows she’s safe in his presence, in his hold. She knows she can be herself, all and any true forms of that. She nods again and again, while Druig’s smile grows bigger, and then he kisses her first again, for the second time that night.

'visitation hours' series taglist: @justifymyfeelings​​ @kunkunieee​​ @felicityofbakerstreet​​ @hiraeth-maximoff​​ @multiple-fandoms-girl​​​ @fayathearth @sssjuico10​​ @thomaslefteyebrow​

permanent tag-list: @hallecarey1​​​ @gabiatthedisco​​​​ @v0idbella​​​ @ur-gunna-h8-ths​​​​@betweenloveandfire​​​​ @but-legendsneverdie​​​​ @rottenstyx​​​ @deardeacy​​​ @mavieesttriste16​​​ @intrrverted​​​ @the-freak-cassie-131​​​  @beverlyparkerr​​​ @gasbomb69​​​