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sunmoonandeddie · 3 years

Text

who you are and who you’ve been

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

word count: 8,490

summary: Sometimes love takes a little longer to find you.

warnings: SMUT. Mention of past abusive relationship, drinking, swearing.

a/n: Thank you so much to @zeilenkrieg for commissioning this and being so patient while I wrote it!!

“Mama! Mama! You here?”

You sighed as you looked up from your coffee, seeing your daughter coming through the living room. She had on that pair of daisy dukes that she stole from your wardrobe—the ones you used to wear in the heat of summer, a white shirt tied to let the sun on your tummy. You used to scandalize your own mama with that outfit…

You had argued with her that she had worn the same kind of outfit back in the seventies, and that vintage was in. But she liked to wear hers with cowboy boots and you preferred it with a good pair of sneakers.

God, you missed being young… Your twenties had been absolutely wild, even if they had started out with that horrible pandemic in 2020.

You still washed your hands after touching almost anything. An instinct that never went away.

That year and the couple years before had been… insane. But at least it incited real change in the world. The people had learned from their mistakes, at least for now.

History did have a habit of repeating itself. Humans were fickle, forgetful creatures like that.

“Yes, honey bun?” You said as you stood up, moving to hug her.

At thirty-seven years old, she was the only good thing that ever came out of your marriage. That, and knowing how to wash blood out of clothing.

The only problem was that by the time you’d finally left him, you had no friends left. You were in your forties by then, with no family besides your daughter, and no friends left to speak of. You hadn’t even had Facebook at the time to keep in touch with old schoolmates from university. And by then, what was the point? They were all leading completely different lives and probably hadn’t spared you a thought in at least a decade.

“When’s the last time you left the house?” She asked, her hands on her hips in a stance that reminded you so much of yourself that it scared you.

Now that… that was hard to answer… You honestly didn’t think you’d be able to remember. You got practically everything delivered, you worked from home…

Shaking your thoughts away, you shot her a look. “I’m fine right where I am.”

“Your doctor called and said you haven’t been taking your medication.”

“Fuckin’ snitch,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes as you turned back to the window, staring down at the now cold coffee.

Josephine rolled her eyes. “He said you haven’t picked up your refill in over two months.” She came over to stand next to you, staring out the window with you for a long time. “Mama, you’ve gotta take your medicine… You remember what happened last time…”

Ah, yes, the infamous incident.

Which was an incident in a long line of incidents.

There had been a… few times when you’d stopped taking your medication—either intentionally or simply because you had forgotten—and it had resulted in a stay in the psych ward at the local hospital. It had happened far too many times for your daughter to not be in contact with your doctor so she would be informed if you had stopped getting your refills.

You didn’t blame her, of course. But it did make you feel like a horrible mother. One who couldn’t even take care of herself to the point where your daughter had to.

“Yes, I remember last time,” you sighed, staring at a cardinal. “You know, my mama used to tell me that if you see a cardinal, a loved one who’s passed is visiting you…”

“Mama, I signed you up for a seniors’ social club.”

You blinked.

And then, you blinked again.

You turned to look at your daughter, disbelief written all over your face. “No the fuck you did not. I swear to all that is holy, Josephine Ann, if you signed me up for one of those… those… pre-death support groups, I’ll tan your hide!” You gasped as some of your coffee splashed onto your sweatshirt. “I brought you into this world, and I sure as hell can take you out of it!”

“You’ve been saying that since I was two,” She said, taking your arm and guiding you to sit down at the kitchen table. “And it’s not a pre-death support group. I feel like that’s offensive somewhere so make sure you don’t go running around the group saying that.” Josephine used a paper napkin to dab at the coffee on your sweatshirt, muttering about throwing it into the wash and getting you a new one.

This was what you meant by your daughter taking care of you.

“Josie, really, I can get my own sweatshirt.”

“Doesn’t mean you gotta,” she said as she came back with a new one, helping you change.

Sometimes you felt like she thought you were a hundred years old.

“Honestly, mama… I just want you to be happy… You should have friends. You shouldn’t be cooped up in this house all day, all the time.”

“What do I need friends for when I’ve got you? And Danny?” You asked.

But you had been hit with the sudden reality that except for Josephine and her girlfriend, you were alone. Completely, and utterly, alone. Hell, they were the only people you had ever invited over to the tiny one bedroom you owned.

Repairmen didn’t count because they were there to do a job, not keep you company.

God, you had wanted more than this, once upon a time. You had once had dreams, of maybe being a writer and making the New York Times’ Bestsellers List, of a husband who adored you and brought you flowers every Friday, of lazy Sundays eating waffles on the couch with the love of your life.

But life didn’t end up the way you had dreamed it. There were no book signings or meetings with editors… there were no gardenias… and there was no smell of waffles and syrup.

And you’d made your peace with that.

Sort of.

Josephine’s arms wrapped around you as she rested her head against yours. Like a mirror of yourself, she was, from her face down to her toes.

Thank god. She didn’t deserve to have to look in the mirror and see reflections of her father.

“Will you at least try it?” She asked gently, her hand running up and down your arm, her freshly manicured nails tickling your skin. “It’s not like a pre-death support group, as you call it… It’s for seniors or people who are approaching seniority and are still active and want to go out and have fun, but maybe need some friends to do it with. Please?”

And how could you say no when she wanted something so badly?

“Alright,” you said after a moment. “I’ll go once. And if it’s horrible, I’m not going back. And I’m gonna tell Danny how you forced me to meet a bunch of strangers.”

She squealed excitedly, running off to your bedroom and going through your closet. “Okay, the first thing the group is doing is having a first meeting at a bar, and we’re gonna get you all done up.”

Oh, good. She was going all in.

“When’s the first meeting?” You asked as you sat on the bed, leaning back on your hands as you watched her.

“Tonight.”

Uh. What?

“TONIGHT?!” You shouted in shock as you jumped up. “What?! You didn’t think to ask me about this a few days ago?!”

She snorted, picking out a few tops that you hadn’t worn in what felt like decades. “I signed you up this morning, I didn’t know about it a few days ago.”

You watched in exasperation as she threw article after article of clothing onto the bed for you to try on. “I don’t think I need to wear four pairs of jeans to a bar,” you said, beginning to pick up a few of the pieces.

Josephine gave you a look as she continued. “Considering how long it’s been since you’ve been out, I think it’s fair that some of these might not fit anymore.”

Well, you had lost some weight… Not necessarily in a healthy way, but she was right.

In the end, she ended up shoving you into the bathroom and forced you to do a full shower—which meant body and hair.

You hadn’t even gone to such lengths when you were going on your first date with her father.

She spent hours on your hair and makeup, chattering away excitedly about the vacation her and Danny were planning. A South American cruise.

Josephine had never married, never had kids. Never wanted to after seeing what her daddy had put you through. It left a sour taste in her mouth, and even though it was legal now, her and her girlfriend hadn’t breathed a word of a wedding.

Though, you suppose they had a common law marriage at that point, if lesbians were included in it.

“Perfect,” she said as she got you to slip on an old jacket of yours that was a little too big. “Come on. I’ll drive you and pick you up.”

“Oh, honestly,” you snorted as you grabbed the purse Josephine had shoved all your things into. “You’d think I could take an Uber.”

The bar wasn’t what you had expected when she had first told you that’s where the meeting was going to be held. The last bars you’d been to had practically been nightclubs.

But this was… upscale. Sophisticated.

Now you understood just why she had put so much work into making you look presentable.

It didn’t look like anyone else was there yet, even though most of the patrons were around your age, so you took a seat at the bar, the group’s site pulled up on your phone.

“What can I get for you, miss?” The bartender asked as he set down a coaster in front of you.

A snort erupts from your throat as you look at him. “You always call women as old as me miss?”

“Oh, come on, you’re a catch,” he said, shooting you a playful wink. “My dad’s single, you know. If you were… looking.”

“Thank you, but I’m not,” you said gently, your cheeks flushed. “Can I get a Manhattan?”

The bartender nodded, gracefully backing off the subject of you possibly dating his father. And barely a minute and a half later, there’s a perfectly made Manhattan set on your coaster.

You’d barely taken a sip before someone came up beside you. “Do you have Macallan’s 18 Year Sherry Oak?” A man asked. At the bartenders confirmation, he hummed. “Can I get a double on the rocks?”

The bartender dropped a large ball of ice into a glass before pouring two shots of whiskey over it and handing it to the man.

“Macallan’s, huh?” You said softly, your heart pounding. Josephine had told you to make friends. That was the whole point of this, even if the man wasn’t part of the social club you’d been forced into. “You know your whiskeys.”

The tall man took a seat beside you, his eyes boring into the side of your face. You hadn’t dared look at him yet. “I’ve always preferred those who choose a Manhattan over a martini any day.”

“And why is that?” You asked, finally looking up at him.

And oh, you wished you hadn’t. He was… stunning. The very definition of male beauty. His salt and pepper hair reminded you of the photos of the men in the forties… The 1940s, that is. Blue eyes so striking that you lost your breath, and broad shoulders that you knew would haunt your dreams. He was wearing a glove on his left hand for some reason, but you didn’t linger on it too long.

But at least he was at least your age, if not a little older. You’d die if you’d just sort of flirted with a twenty-something asshole who just bought expensive whiskeys for the sake of buying expensive whiskeys to show that he had money to blow.

“Martini drinkers think they’ll get some kind of award for their choice of drink,” he said, “as though choosing a drink that generally tastes like shit is some kind of accomplishment. Unless you’re just taking a shot, a drink should taste good.” He looked you up and down, letting his pretty blues linger on your lips. There were faint crow feet at the corners of his eyes, but they just seemed to make him even more handsome. “And a Manhattan doesn’t need a fancy whiskey. It is steady and sure even with the cheapest five dollar bottle you can get from a gas station. Someone whose drink of choice is a Manhattan is sure of who they are and what they want.”

You hadn’t felt this hot under a man’s gaze in decades. “Really?” Swallowing around the lump in your throat, you took another sip of your drink to buy you a moment.

“Mmm…” He stole one of the two cherries from your drink, biting it off the stem. You were transfixed as he slipped the stem into his mouth, sticking his tongue out about thirty seconds later with a perfect cherry stem knot on display. “Really. I’m James. What’s your name?”

Butterflies filled your stomach as you gave him your name. God, you felt like you were sixteen again and being flirted with for the first time.

His eyes flicked down to your open phone that rested on the bar, the social club’s page still up. “You’re here for the meeting, too?”

“Um… Yes,” you said, ducking your head.

“But, doll…” He leaned towards you, a charming smile on his lips. “You don’t look a day over thirty-five. Are you sure you’re a senior?”

Blinking, your mouth hung open in a soft o. “Are you planning on flirting with every woman in the club like this?”

James looked around dramatically, his gloved hand resting over his heart. “A club?! Is that what you call this place?” He asked, mockingly serious. “Damn, what does that make all those dirty, gross places these young kids go to now? Brothels?”

For some reason, you felt comfortable enough to shove his shoulder, surprised a little at the feeling of metal under his jacket sleeve.

For the first time, he looked a bit… uncomfortable. He had flinched a bit, his bright eyes focused surely on his drink. “Um…”

“You’re the Winter Soldier. James Barnes,” you said curiously, your head tilting to the side as you looked at him. “I thought I recognized you from somewhere.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“No.”

“You sure?”

“Mmhm,” you drawled, taking the cherry left in your drink and biting it off in a way that you hoped was alluring. “Though, I gotta say, it is a bit awkward to meet the man I wrote two papers about in high school.”

Shit, his laugh was beautiful. Everything about him was beautiful. Like Apollo or something...

James’s head was thrown back in laughter. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes squeezed shut. “Did you actually write two papers about me?” He asked as he tried to catch his breath. At your nod, he smirked, leaning in close again. “What did you write about? How devilishly handsome I am?”

You couldn’t believe you were saying this. “I mean, I can show you the papers and actually let you read them, but they’re at my place.”

Before he could pick his jaw up off the ground, there were other seniors in the group coming up to greet you. Your throat was dry as the Sahara as you turned to face them, plastering on a smile as you tried to ignore the heated gaze on your face and the way he licked his lips.

The meeting was… long. Boring.

Or at least, that’s how it felt when you had James’s dark, sultry eyes on you the entire goddamn time.

Mind fuzzy, you vaguely remembered agreeing to come to the next meeting, and even signing up for a hiking trip they were taking the next weekend.

As you headed outside, you felt Bucky’s hand slip into yours, his long, calloused fingers intertwining with yours. “So… Am I gonna get to come over and… read those papers?” He murmured, his lips brushing against your ear.

God, you could practically feel yourself bursting into flames. You weren’t gonna survive.

Thank god your daughter had forced you into a full shower.

But what about how dirty your house was sure to be?

“Um… Y-Yeah,” you said as you turned to look at him. “But, my daughter is gonna be driving me home… I don’t want her to know I’ve got someone coming over. She’s nosey. Real… Real nosey.”

“Of course, darlin,’” he chuckled. “Here, why don’t I give you my phone number, and you shoot me a text with your address when you’re ready for me to come over?”

Your head was swirling as you got into your daughter’s car, your phone burning a hole in your purse.

“How was it?” Josephine asked nervously once you got about halfway home. She couldn’t tell from the look on your face. “Did you like it?”

“Hm? Yeah.” Swallowing, you shot a text to James with your name, telling him you’d text him when it was all clear.

“Are you gonna go again?”

“Yeah.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

She seemed both dissatisfied and pleased by your vague answers. At least you were getting out of the house.

Once you got home and said goodbye, it was a mad dash to ensure that your house was clean as could be. Josie had put in some work while you’d been gone, it seemed. She’d done the dishes and the laundry, as well as dusted.

Thank fuck.

You struggled for a solid twenty minutes to put fresh sheets and pillowcases on the bed, lighting two candles and placing them in a manner that you hoped seemed natural.

“Shit,” you cursed as you smelled under your arms.

Okay, quick body shower. It seemed all that flirting had made you a tiny bit sweaty.

You turned the water to scalding and scrubbed your body down, exfoliating and using your best scented body wash.

And to be quite frank, you’d never shaved your lady bits as quick as that.

As you texted him your address and that it was safe to come over, you pulled on your clothing from the bar (though, you did put on nicer, matching lingerie underneath.) By the time he’d gotten there, you’d downed two shots of tequila for a bit of liquid courage and had poured yourself a glass of wine.

“Hey, baby doll,” he said, a crooked grin on his face as you welcomed him inside. His glove had been abandoned, and black metal fingers lined with gold glittered in the light. “Woah… You know, I wasn’t sure how your place was gonna look, but this is very… you.”

“Oh, really?” You asked as you offered him a glass of wine, which he gratefully took. “How so?”

“I don’t know,” he chuckled as he swirled the deep red liquid in its glass. “It’s cozy. Sweet.”

Your throat was dry as you watched his adam’s apple bob as he took a drink. “Um… so those papers…”

Bucky whispered your name, moving closer to you as he set the wine glass down on the counter. “Baby girl, I’m not really here for the papers, am I?” He asked as your back hit the island. “If I am… If I am, then just tell me, and I’ll stop this.” His slightly chapped lips ghosted against yours like the tease he was. “Am I here just for the papers?”

“No,” you breathed out, before pressing your lips against his in a firm kiss at last. His breath was minty and cool, with just a touch of the wine you’d been sharing, like he’d brushed his teeth before coming over just like you had.

Could it be possible he was just as nervous as you were?

But he was perfect? Why the hell would he be nervous?

Your thoughts were cut short as he reached down, his hands firmly grabbing your ass as he lifted you up and set you on the counter. “That’s a good girl,” he growled as he kissed down your neck, his hands working at your blouse. “Couldn’t stop thinking about you during that whole stupid fucking meeting. Just wanted to kiss you. Just wanted to… to touch you.” He pulled back, kissing you fiercely as his hands moved from your blouse to hold your face again. “You gonna let me touch you, angel?”

A whine escaped your throat as you nodded, desperately yanking at his shirt. Once it was off, you didn’t hesitate to run your hands over the broad planes of his chest. He wasn’t quite as toned as you remembered from when you were younger, when you used to (occasionally) stalk (lightly) his social media accounts. There’d been so many pictures of him on vacation with the other Avengers… all tanned and toned…

But you liked this better. There was a softness to him now, a gentleness.

You were so distracted by his physique that you didn’t notice he’d gotten your shirt and bra off until the cold air hit your chest. “Fuck,” you mumbled as his lips found your neck, trailing down to your breasts.

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been kissed, let alone the last time you’d had such… attention.

Especially when his hands worked your pants off and he stood between your legs, moaning as his fingers tickled your thighs. “You’re so beautiful,” he said as his lips wrapped around one nipple, suckling at it and teasing until it was diamond hard, and he moved on to the other.

Gotta be fair, after all.

“James…”

“Fuck, baby girl… Never been with a woman as beautiful as you,” he growled, kissing down your tummy. “You’re not making it out of here without orgasming at least twice,” he warned jokingly. He was half bent over in front of the island, watching in wonder as he slowly pulled your silk panties down your legs and revealed your aching core to him.

“I-If you’re not comfortable standing like that, w-we can move somewhere else,” you stammered, suddenly growing self conscious. What if he thought your pussy was weird? Granted, you’d overcome thinking that when you were in your early twenties, after learning that each one looked different.

But he was born in the forties.

But that meant he’d probably seen an exponential amount of pussies!

Oh, god, there was no way you’d have anywhere near as much experience as him. The only person you’d ever been with was your ex husband, and he wasn’t exactly the paradigm of lovers.

“Hey.”

You refocused with a shake of your head, your eyes meeting James’s. “Yes?”

“You’re in your head,” he said softly, his forehead resting against yours as he slowly ran his fingers along your sensitive folds. “There’s no need… It’s just you and me, okay? And you’re absolutely perfect.”

Your heart was melting inside your chest as you nodded, stealing a tentative kiss. “Okay… Just you and me.”

James nipped at your lower lip as he lifted you up, wrapping your legs around his waist. “Come on. I don’t want our first time to be on a kitchen counter. Though I make no promises I won’t help christen every inch of this house after,” he said with a playful growl.

You whispered directions to your bedroom as he held you tight to his chest, his lips finding purchase on your neck. “And here I thought you said the super soldier serum was wearing off,” you joked.

The man snorted as he pushed you up against the hallway wall. “Trust me, doll, no lack of super soldier serum is gonna stop me from fucking you right,” he said, his voice husky and deep.

Before you could even open your mouth to reply, two thick fingers were slipping inside of you to slowly tease your cunt, his lips ghosting over yours. “Does that feel good, sweetheart?”

You couldn’t find it in you to be embarrassed at the whimper that fell from your lips. “Y-Yes. Yes. Please, I need more, James…”

James smiled into the kisses he’d been giving you. “I’ll give you everything you want.”

“That’s a tall order.” You threaded your fingers through his hair, shivering at the way his metal fingers dug into the plumpness of your ass. “You sure you can fill it?”

He doesn’t respond with words, growling as he kisses you fiercely, carrying you to the bedroom. You don’t have time to think before he’s crawling over you and kissing up your tummy to your lips. “I need to be inside you,” He whispered as he stroked his length.

“Please… Don’t wanna wait anymore,” you said. Vaguely, you’re aware of the twinge in your knees from all the physical activity, and you knew you’d be sore as hell in the morning.

Fucking worth it, though.

James didn’t hesitate to line himself up, the head of his cock pressing against your entrance. When he finally pushed in, unison moans fill the air.

“I… I haven’t done this in… so long,” you finally admitted as he slowly pushed in more, taking his time. Eyes locked, your mouth fell open in a soft ‘o’ as he bottomed out, his hips meeting yours. “Oh, fuck…”

“Then I better do a real good job fucking you right.”

You weren’t quite sure how long you two lasted, but you do know he manages to pull three orgasms out of you in the space of just a few hours. There’s snack and water breaks in between rounds, his cool metal hand running up and down your spine to cool you down as you two whisper in the dim light of your desk lamp.

You can’t remember a time that you’d felt so at peace.

A spark had been lit inside your chest as you two laid there in bed, legs intertwined. Both of you were quiet, his fingers moving to caress your cheek.

There were no words that needed to be said.

His sea blue eyes are sparkling in the dim light, and your hand runs over the sharp stubble that lines his jaw. It had certainly marked up your neck.

“I had intended on asking you on a date,” he said quietly as his hand found yours, bringing it to his mouth. Chapped lips kissed each of your knuckles like you were something precious, something to behold. “I didn’t think the five minutes or so before the meeting counted… But I’d still like to take you on that date, if you’ll let me.”

“That sounds nice,” you said, a grin twinging at the corners of your lips.

“Yeah?” He asked, sitting up a bit as his fingers brushed against your forehead.

“Yeah.” A giggle escaped your lips as he playfully tackled you, starting yet another round as his hips rolled down against yours.

The next morning, you woke up alone. The sheets beside you were mussed, though the space James had been occupying was still a bit warm.

Jazz music floated down the hall, through the cracked door, and you could vaguely hear the clinking of pans.

It took you a minute to gather the will to get yourself out of bed and find your robe, but you finally did it. As your feet hit the ground and you pushed yourself to a stand, you winced.

You had been right about feeling it in your knees.

You forced yourself to walk smoothly down the hall, despite how much it hurt. Embarrassing yourself in front of James was the last fucking thing you wanted to do.

He was in the kitchen, standing in front of the stove and humming along with the old jazz song playing on the Bluetooth speaker. He had a pan full of pancake batter in front of him, a whole stack he’d already made on the side.

Standing in the doorway, you couldn’t help but grin as you watched him. He’s so handsome… and he seemed so at home in your kitchen. In your home.

Maybe he’d like to move in…

You shook your head, knowing that it’s already too much.

But the thought was nice.

Him in his pajamas, making coffee… Him in your shower… Him in your bed every night…

Yeah. It’s a really, really nice thought.

“Hi.”

James jumped, his eyes wide as he whirled round to face you. “Hi. I thought I had another thirty minutes before I had to go and wake you up,” he said. “I’m making pancakes. For you. For us.” His cheeks flushed, turning a bright red as he turned back to the pan to quickly flip the pancake. “I hope you don’t mind that I used your flour and shit…”

“Oh, no, I… I almost never cook,” you admitted as you moved over to stand next to him, watching as he made two more pancakes.

As he carried the huge plate to the kitchen island, he teasingly grabbed your ass and squeezed. “Maybe I’ll have to stay the night more often, if only so you get a homemade breakfast.”

It was sweet, and domestic, and somewhat terrifying.

You hadn’t had a man do anything for you like this since you were in your twenties, when your husband was still sweet and loving.

But even so, this was somehow better than anytime your husband made his famous burritos.

Maybe because James’s cooking actually tasted good.

Your first date was to a movie, a drive in. Something that’s designed to be vintage but really just looked cheesy as all hell.

But it’s perfect. Perfect and cheesy and romantic.

Your only complaint was that he didn’t kiss you at the door when he dropped you off. He pressed his lips to your cheek and whispered a goodnight, and that was it.

It took two more dates within the same week for him to kiss you again.

Bright and early on the next Saturday morning, he knocked on your door, holding a bouquet of flowers.

“I figured I should make up for you having to be up so early with this,” he said as he came inside, kissing you quick before moving to put the flowers in a vase.

At this point, he knew your house almost as well as you did. It felt good, when you two moved around like you were part of a team.

“Have you gotten your coffee this morning?” You asked, already pouring two travel mugs full of the good stuff.

He came up behind you, kissing your shoulder. “I have, but you know I’ll never say no to more, doll.”

The rest of the group eyed you curiously as you got out of the same car, a few elbow nudges and whispers in the air.

“At least I know no old ass dickheads are gonna come hit on my girlfriend,” James growled in your ear, his calloused flesh hand squeezing your hip.

“Jamie…,” you whined, cheeks flushed in embarrassment. No one had ever claimed you in such a way that made you feel so desired and… and worthy.

James made you feel worthy.

Which is something you’d only ever really gotten from your daughter.

It sent a bolt of arousal through you, and you were tempted to drag him back to the car so you could bring him right back home and do something about it.

Also… Girlfriend? Were you his girlfriend now? Officially?

That just made you wanna find somewhere to fuck him even more.

But alas, you pushed the thought away as the lot of you boarded one of those white airport vans that took you out of the city to the closest state park.

“It’s beautiful,” you breathed out as you stared out the window, forehead pressed to the cool glass. The morning air was a bit chillier than it had been lately, signaling the coming onslaught of winter.

Maybe Bucky would wanna make hot cocoa together… go sledding… Would him, Josephine, and Danny would all come over for Christmas and New Years and—

Would he even want to meet Josephine?

Would Josie wanna meet him?

She had no idea that you’d found a—A boyfriend?

“Not as beautiful as you,” Bucky murmured against the shell of your ear as his vibranium fingers intertwined with yours and squeezed. His stubble tickled your neck as he rested his head on your shoulder, watching the passing scenery with you. “I’m really glad I met you, doll…”

“Me, too,” you said, grinning as you squeezed his hand back and leaned your head against his.

It was strange, falling so hard for someone so quick after everything you’d been through.

But you had a gut feeling. One that you had never had with your ex husband.

James was a good one. A really, really good one.

That reminded you.

When were you meant to tell him about all the shit you’d been through?

Despite the amount of time you had spent together already, you hadn’t found the courage for it.

Soon, you decided.

But first, you had to get through the damn hike.

Bucky was glued to your side the entire time, even though you were a lot worse at hiking than he was. He would hold your hand, guiding you anytime there was a fallen tree or a creek. His blue eyes were soft as he murmured encouragement, quietly praising your every move.

It was intoxicating.

So when you two fell behind from the group, watching them go around a curve and down a hill, you dragged James behind a large rock formation.

“Baby doll? Darling, what the hell are you doing?” He laughed as you pressed a fierce kiss to his lips.

“Can’t a girl be spontaneous?” You teased as you dropped to your knees, ignoring the way a twig was poking into your left knee. “Need to taste you.”

His eyes locked on you as you worked at his jeans, getting them down and off, his nails scratching at your scalp as he got a good grip on your head. “Fuck… Are you really this needy for me, angel? Fuck, you’re so god damn gorgeous… Look at you.”

Your heart pounded against your rib cage as you finally freed his length, a grin on your lips as you wrapped your hand around him and slowly stroked him.

Bucky’s eyes rolled back as your mouth wrapped around the head of his cock. “Fucking shit… Good girl… Suck me off real good, baby.”

The group probably would notice your absence, not that you particularly cared.

Not when you had your man so weak for you. And all you’d had to do was get on your knees.

His metal and flesh hands guided you to take more of him in, going at a slow pace so as not to hurt you. He was so big there was no way you’d get all of him down your throat but what you couldn’t take in your mouth, you pleasured with your hands.

Pleasuring your partner like this was addicting. You’d never felt the desire—no, the incessant need—to please your ex husband. All you could think about was getting Bucky off, making him feel so good that he couldn’t see or walk straight.

You choked around him as you took him as deep as possible, your eyes glassy. When you popped off, you stroked him as you moved down to carefully suck at his balls, fighting a grin as he gasped, his hips stuttering. Before he could orgasm, you took him back in your mouth, wanting to swallow him down.

“Fuck, fuck— Oh, shit… Baby— I’m gonna… I’m gonna—” Bucky broke off with a shout as he came, spilling down your throat. His large hands stroked your cheeks as you swallowed all of it, barring the little bit that had gotten on your lower lip. “You did so good, darling,” he cooed as he helped you stand, pressing you against the rock behind him as he kissed you. “Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you, right?”

“No, you didn’t,” you said, a faint smile on your lips as you helped him put himself back away. “You were perfect, James…”

When you finally caught up to the group, a few of the others shot you knowing looks.

But Bucky just had a satisfied smirk on his lips, his hand tightly intertwined with yours even as you flushed in embarrassment.

“Once we get home, it’s your turn,” he whispered in your ear as you all headed back for the van.

Your relationship with James was… wonderful.

It was easy in a way you’d never had before.

Within just two months, he was living at your house almost full time, to the point where you’d been thinking about asking him to move in.

It was like you two were magnets. Even when you both had work to do, you did it in the same room, slowly gravitating towards each other until you were sitting close, your foot running up his calf.

And he’d gotten you to start writing.

“It’s your dream, doll. You’re never too old to chase your dreams,” he said one night as you two laid in bed. His metal fingers were tracing shapes on your spine, a chill from the cracked window ruffling his sweaty hair. “If you don’t mind me asking… Why did you stop in the first place?”

Ah.

The conversation you’d been avoiding for so long.

Sitting up, you pressed your hands to your face as you tried to find the words to say. “Um… I was married before… I know you know, but, uh…” Your fingers fiddled together nervously. You swallowed around the lump in your throat. “My husband… He wasn’t… He wasn’t nice. At all.”

Bucky immediately sat up behind you, his vibranium hand resting flat on your back to reassure you that he was there, and to give you something to focus on while you spoke. He didn’t need to speak for you to know. He was there and he wasn’t running.

“I married him young… and I had Josephine young… He’d always been so… possessive, but I just considered it protective,” you continued, pulling strength from his touch to keep on going. You needed to tell him this. You needed him to understand. “Then after Josie was born, he started getting violent. He’d always been mean, but he’d never hit me until after I gave birth…”

James was tense behind you, slowly scooting over so he could wrap his arms around you, his legs resting on either side of yours as he held you. He needed you close. Needed to know you were safe in his arms and that man was long gone.

“Put me in the hospital a few times… He at least didn’t do it in front of Josie. That’s the one thing I asked of him that he listened to.” You couldn’t help but snort as you slowly relaxed back against him. “She always thought all the bruises and shit was just a side effect of how clumsy I am… But she came home one day during college, to surprise us… She walked in on him holding a frying pan above his head, about to swing again. She jumped in between us and told him if he ever touched me again, she’d kill him.” You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding as his lips pressed to your bare shoulder. It was soothing, feeling his skin against yours. “She moved me out of that house and into her apartment, helped me get the divorce, get back on my feet…”

“Remind me to tell Josephine thank you,” he said quietly as he squeezed you close. “Thank you for telling me, doll… I… I can’t imagine how hard that was… But he’ll never touch you again. No one will ever touch you again if you don’t want it.”

“I know.”

He nuzzled into your hair, breathing in the scent of your shampoo. “I love you. So much…”

A peace settled over you as you rested your head back against his, allowing yourself to truly fall into him, to relax. “And I love you…”

After that night, Bucky slept over at your place five to six nights a week, only going home to get more clothes and do his laundry really, even though you’d told him a million times he could do it at your place.

“Wake up, sweetheart,” he murmured in your ear one morning, pushing your hair away from your face. “Time to get up… I’ve got breakfast ready for you…”

Groaning, you tried to pull him down for more cuddle time, but he wasn’t having it. He always woke up before you, too many years a soldier coming into play. He’d go for a run and make breakfast before waking you up.

“Come on, doll,” he chuckled, pressing a quick kiss to your lips as he got you to sit up, your vision blurry from sleep still. “Medicine,” he said, pressing your pills into your palm and putting a glass of water in your other.

Ever since he’d found out about your prescriptions and how you had a hard time remembering to take them, he’d taken it upon himself to make sure you did, every morning and night without fail.

“What’d you make this morning?” You asked sleepily after swallowing your pills, letting him pull you to your feet. His t-shirt clung to you as you followed him down the hall. Your hand was tucked into his as you rounded the corner to the kitchen.

What neither of you had heard was the sound of the front door opening.

“Mama?! What the hell?!” Josephine demanded, standing in the kitchen with Danny right behind her. “Who the fuck is this?! What is he doing here?!”

Oh.

Yeah.

You’d neglected to tell your daughter, afraid of how she might take it.

“Hello. I’m James. Or Bucky,” your boyfriend said as he held out his hand to you, clearly unashamed and standing his ground even though he was only wearing a pair of pajama pants.

“What the fuck are you doing here?!” Your daughter repeated angrily, ignoring his hand.

“Josie,” Danny began, trying to soothe her.

But your daughter was nothing but determined when she was in her protective mode.

Before you could open your mouth, Bucky supplied, “I’m her boyfriend.”

You felt a flush coming over you as she stared at the two of you, slack-jawed. “He is,” you said, wrapping both of your arms around his metal one. You were so nervous, you were shaking.

“When did this happen?!” She demanded, beginning to pace back and forth around the kitchen.

“Um… The first meeting at the bar… for the club,” you said. Seeing her so upset made your anxiety spike, and you knew James could feel it, could hear the way your heart rate increased exponentially.

Josephine whirled on you, her eyes—so much like yours—wide with disbelief. No. Betrayal. “You’ve been seeing someone for almost three months and you didn’t tell me?”

“I…” Tears pricked your eyes as you tightened your grip on Bucky’s arm. This was not the way you wanted them meeting to go. “I was scared… of how you’d react…”

At that moment, Bucky turned to meet your eyes, his forehead almost pressing against yours. “Darling, I feel like this is a conversation you two should have alone, yeah? So I’m gonna take—Danny, right? Yeah—Danny to the living room with some coffee so we can get to know each other, okay?”

After a nod, and a squeeze of his hand, he got two mugs of coffee and led your daughter’s girlfriend to the living room. You could see them sitting down from the corner of your eyes, but you were much too focused on Josephine.

“Mama, I—”

“I love him,” you said, before she could say anything more.

Her eyes were shining, locked on you as she waited for you to speak. In her gut, she knew this was something you needed to get out.

“I love him more than I’ve ever loved a man. More than I loved your father,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “And I know… I know you’re as protective as you are because you saw how he treated me. You saw how much I hid that he was hurting you, but Jamie isn’t like that.” Your fingers fiddled as you tried to keep yourself from pacing. “He’s kind and adoring and gentle and… and he loves me. More than I thought anyone could ever love me. And I know you feel like you need to take care of me and I am so grateful. And I still need you. Everyday. But Bucky… I love him. I love him and he loves me and we take care of each other.”

Josephine reached out, slowly taking your hands in hers. “He… He makes you happy? He takes care of you and you’re safe?” She asked, voice trembling as a few tears rolled down her cheeks.

“Yeah. He takes real good care of me,” you insisted with a weak laugh. “And I’ve never been so happy before, honey. I promise.”

“Okay…,” she said, taking a deep breath. “I’m still giving him the shovel talk.”

Bucky looked up as Josephine entered the living room, looking much calmer. He wasn’t sure what you’d said, but it had seemed to placate her for the time being.

“Can we talk outside?” She asked him, keeping her chin high.

God, she looked so much like you.

He nodded stiffly, getting to his feet and leaving his mug behind as he followed her to the front door and out onto the porch. The former super soldier watched as she paced back and forth, biting her thumb. “I’ve heard a lot about you,” he said finally, breaking the silence.

Josie stopped in her tracks, listening quietly.

“Your mama loves you something fierce.” Nervously rubbing his hands on his pajama pants, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so nervous meeting a girl’s family.

Though, he supposed it was a bit different when it was meeting your girlfriend’s daughter.

“And I love her.”

Your daughter, your mini me, stared him directly in the eyes. “I’m sure she’s told you about my father. What he did.”

“She did.”

“So you know that if you put one fucking foot out of line, I’ll filet you?”

“I do.”

She eyed him for a long moment. “What are you in this for? What’s the long term?” She asked. “I’ve heard of elders just… settling for someone because they don’t wanna be alone in their twilight years. Is that what this is?”

Bucky tried really hard not to feel a little bit offended. He wasn’t that old. “I’ve been alive since 1917,” he said slowly. “I have no doubt you know who I am. But I’ve been alive a hundred and something years, and I’ve never met someone who makes me feel the way your mom does.” His heart clenched inside his chest as he thought of you, seeing your shy smile in the mornings, how you clung to him when you went out in public, the sound of your voice as you read an excerpt of your writing to him, so nervous about what he would think. “And I… I can say that everything I’ve been through… Everything I’ve ever been through was worth it, because I got to meet her. And I get to be hers for the years I have left.”

She looked absolutely speechless. “Good,” she said, coughing to clear her throat. “Good. I just… I can’t see her get hurt again. Not after everything.”

“Trust me, I don’t plan to,” he said, his mouth dry. “I… I actually have something to ask you about… Been waiting to meet you to talk to you about it…”

Inside, you paced the kitchen and living room, going back and forth and back and forth, sometimes moving to the window to try to hear what they were saying. But they were keeping it all very hushed.

“It’s gonna be fine, mama,” Danny said, standing up and moving to wrap her arms around you. “Josie’ll see how much you two love each other, and it’ll be fine. She’s just gotta have her protective moment. You know how she is.”

Sniffling, you hugged her tightly. “I shouldn’t have kept it from her for so long… I was just so nervous… They both… They both mean the world to me.” You paused, snorting. “I knew you’d approve of him. I wasn’t so worried about you.”

“Oh, please, the way that man looked at you?” She said, laughing as she kissed your forehead. “Mama, there’s no way in hell that man would ever hurt you. He looks at you like you’re his entire universe.”

Heart warm, you glanced towards the front door, wishing they’d just come inside already. “I’ve never felt something like this… But fuck, if the whole shit show that’s my life wasn’t worth it for him… I wouldn’t change a thing, as long as it means I get to end up with him.”

You broke out of her grasp as the front door opened and they came back inside, looking relaxed and even… happy? “Well? You aren’t gonna kill him?” You asked Josie as you moved to James, heart racing.

“Nah…,” she said, giving him what seemed like a secretive smile. “As far as dads go… He’d be pretty nice to have.”

“What?” You said, brows furrowing as you looked between the two of them.

Bucky chuckled, winking at Josephine as he led you to the stove where breakfast was still waiting, making you waddle as his arms wrapped around you from behind. “Don’t worry your pretty head about it, baby doll. It’s all good.”

You still couldn’t help but feel like the two were planning something as he made your plate for you, cutting up your pancakes and filling up your coffee. “Why do I feel like you two are gonna end up ganging up on me?”

“Oh, come on, mama,” Josephine said with a smirk on her face. Her and Danny had made their own plates and joined you and Bucky in the living room. “How could you ever accuse us of such a thing?”

“Yeah,” James said as he fed you a bite of pancake. “How could you ever accuse us of such a thing?” He asked, before leaning in and stealing a kiss. “I love you.”

You’d never felt more relaxed, surrounded by the people you loved the most in the world. What you’d said to Josephine had been true.

“I love you more,” you said, leaning back in for another kiss.

You’d never been so happy.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x reader

631 notes · View notes

katsuflossy · 3 years

Text

BeatBox/Junebugg Challenge

Pairings: Shouto Todoroki x reader, Kastuki Bakugou x reader, Izuku Midoriya x reader, Eijirou Kirishima x reader, Hanta Sero x reader, Denki Kaminari x reader, Hitoshi Shinsou x reader, Tenya Iida x reader.

TW: just the regular obscenities

A/n: IK y’all may not know this trend but it’s funny af so this is the beatbox/junebugg challenge (sound by SpotemGottem) and yeah I hope y’all like my lil hc of the s/o doing it with the boys 💖💖

Taglist: @eharmonythotbot @lilsparkyswife @teddybearrx @angiebug101 @sesshomaruwaifu @blackweebtrash @minajkatsuki @cyans-bliss @myhoodacademia @mypimpademia @melanimed @peach-child @zombie-kun @xx-opaqued-xx @sunshineszn @prettybitch-ki @tsukkisukkii

🧊 He has the most aesthetically pleasing tiktok

🧊 There’s slime videos, drawing videos with lofi music in the back, your basic encouraging quotes

🧊 Who needs therapy when you got Shouto’s fyp? /j

🧊 He may be a lil...offbeat in your dance videos but he still tries. Thankfully this was an easy one to learn.

🧊 He out here thinking he got it until you buck at him.

🧊 You think he finna take that shit? He’s gonna buck TF back, on reflex, and scare the fuck out of you.

🧊 Immediately goes into protective boyfriend mode after seeing you flinch hard. You should expect a tight hug; he’s rubbing your back while the whole clip rolling.

🧊 “Love, I’m sorry but why did you move to hit me? I didn’t mean to scare you I’m sorry.”

🧊 “Baby, It’s okay that was the challenge.”

🧊 “Yes, but you looked so scared and it was my fault,” he wraps his arms tighter around you so you’re snuggled safely into his chest.

🧊 Post it with captions of what he said during the video and see all the comments talm bout “⚠️‼️WARNING‼️HAPPY COUPLE⚠️”

💥 It’s known Bakugou knows no fucking challenge on that app.

💥 Except for that buss it challenge. He’s keeping tabs on yo ass.

💥 His fyp is comprised of prisontok (thank mtha for this), mortalkombat edits, and recommendations for shoujo mangas DC comics.

💥 He already knows the drill, you teach him the dance, he does it with no care, you post it.

💥 This one is fairly easy… until you attempt to press him

💥 He runs up on you, chest puffed up, arms tense and hanging straight. That intimidation stance.

💥 “What you tryna do? We can tussle right now wassup.” Now you gotta deal with him pressing you as you finish the dance.

💥 When he realizes you’re laughing, he just sucks his teeth before lightly pushing you.

💥 “Why am I even dating you?”

💥 The biggest tsundere simp on the earth.

💥 He loves you so much but you always test him.

🥦 Umm All Might edits runs his fyp.

🥦 The occasional analytic reports on recent and past villain attacks are there too.

🥦 Only gets a smidge of alt tiktok so it ain’t that boring.

🥦 Doesn’t know the dance either but he’ll do it just for you <3

🥦 Never expects you to fucking buck at him tho.

🥦 Mans flinch mad hard omg.

🥦 He removes his hands from his face when he hears you laugh and continue the dance.

🥦 Now he stopped, looking at you with the saddest puppy eyes.

🥦 “Why did you flinch at me baby?” He’s just standing in the frame all pouty and shit.

🥦 “Prince(ss), please don’t do that again. You honestly scared me.” He walks off in the middle of the video, his fluffy duck house slippers squeaking with every step.

🥦 Go say you’re sorry right now 🧍🏽‍♀️

⛑ Crimson Riot edits duhh

⛑ But it’s a mixture of Bakugou’s and Todoroki’s with a sprinkle of popular dances down his stream.

⛑ Has Ski Mask edits as well

⛑ Still, he doesn’t know the dance at all

⛑ Baby boy is so sweet cause the second you buck at him...he just plants one straight on your lips thinking you went in for a kiss.

⛑ Shocked, bamboozled, frozen, he really kissed you as you tried to buck him?

⛑ Mans continued the dance like you’re not wide-mouthed behind him.

⛑ “Bro, I know you did not just kiss me when I tried to buck you.” The whole badman vibes just dissipate from the air, he smiling at you like it was cool.

⛑ “Babe,” he whined. “I thought you just wanted a smooch.”

⛑ Seeing you mad, he just grabs you up and launches more kisses on your face.

⛑ You tried to look hard for the video only for him to soften you up quickly.

⛑ At least you got cuddles after.

🩹 His tiktok is filled with funny ass videos

🩹 They always come up on his fyp before going famous. Hence why his comments be having 30k likes (they funny as well)

🩹 Has the best cooking tutorials in his favorites that he makes to impress you.

🩹 Already knows the dance so you don’t need to teach him.

🩹 Y’all both tried to press each other with giant smiles on your faces before starting a round of play fighting.

🩹 “Can’t fuck with you no mo.” He turns to you before continuing the dance.

🩹 Alternating lyrics and shii...being the baddest couple to step in the game.

🩹 He wraps his arms around you before throwing peace signs to the camera at the end.

🩹 The coolest boyfriend award goes to this king.

⚡️ How...how is he in every part of tiktok

⚡️ Straightok, alt tiktok, beantok, frogtok. You describe to him the video and he either knows it or he can find it in seconds.

⚡️ If Pandora’s Box opened and escaped into somebody’s account, it would most likely be Denki’s.

⚡️ He did the challenge with Bakugou before but it ended in flames...but he won’t decline to do it wit you

⚡️ Why y’all buck each other and ended up hitting your foreheads?

⚡️ Spent the rest of the video rubbing your forehead while Denki laughing.

⚡️ “Why tf your shit so hard? Built like damn cement” you glared at him as he laughed even harder.

⚡️ “I shock my own brain everyday. I think my skull hardened as a result”

⚡️ The next day, you’re seen walking around with your forehead on swole.

⚡️ On the bright side, you get forehead kisses every 5 minutes.

🔮 There ain’t no Eraserhead edits so he makes them himself.

🔮 All his fyp got some led light show going on. Every. Fucking. Video.

🔮 But they’re all good vibes, great music, and nice ass comment section

🔮 Occasional gaming videos come up because he follows some twitch streamers on there

🔮 Doesn’t know the beatbox/junebugg challenge. You woke him out of bed to do it.

🔮 You’re vibing in the video before you buck at him.

🔮 He didn’t budge. He stopped doing the dance altogether to stand up and just glare you down.

🔮 He out here in his cow print moo moo pants and you do this shit to him?

🔮 Now you’re nervous, flickering your eyes to him as you continued the video dancing.

🔮 The minute the sound ends he stalks off back to bed. Using all the sheets to cover him.

🔮 Have fun sleeping in the cold. Just kidding, he can’t sleep without cuddling you but just remember he is mad.

👓 ...you think he knows tiktok?

👓 Thought it was slang for the actual clock app.

👓 Got it to see what the hype was about but doesn’t even bother to make an actual account.

👓 It’s really just the generic shit on there.

👓 So he’s excited to do a dance with you even though he only knows the tinman.

👓 Umm...failed to do the actual dance. It gives 60-year-old white man on a tropical cruise.

👓 And then you buck at him.

👓 All movements stop. He justs staring at you, his glasses hiding his actual eyes.

👓 The air around you feels real cold. Your premonition telling you to electric slide out of the room but nah, you continue to dance. The man, who tried to commit murder at the age of 16, just staring at you stoned face.

👓 The second he opened his mouth, you DIPPED out of the room, leaving your phone running and Iida just standing confused.

👓 Turns out, he wasn’t trying to end your bloodline, he was just confused if that was a dance step he missed.

705 notes · View notes

earliebirb · 3 years

Text

nosedive

steve/tony, fluff, (newly) established relationship, 3250 words

Tony stares absentmindedly out the airplane window as he puts his phone up to his ear, watching people run back and forth, performing last-minute engine checks. Some of the guys look sweaty and out of breath.

From the comfort of the air-conditioned Stark Industries private jet, he feels a slight twinge of sympathy for the people having to suffer in the humid summer heat.

He loosens his tie and sinks deeply into his seat, closing his eyes with a massive yawn as he listens to the ringing tone. He hadn’t been able to sleep very well throughout his five-day stay in Tokyo, too anxious about the contract to rest properly.

The ringing tone goes on for a few more seconds before ending with a click, replaced by an achingly familiar voice greeting him in his ear.

“Hello?”

Tony’s eyes spring open. Outside, an aircraft marshaller walks by, speaking rapidly into his walkie-talkie.

“I had a blueberry muffin for lunch today. One single blueberry muffin.”

“...What?”

“It didn’t even taste that good. I couldn’t finish it. Too dry.”

“Tony, that’s not good. Is that all you had for lunch? You should really eat—”

“The meeting went well, by the way. Mr. Watanabe finally signed the contract, everything went as planned. My ride to the airport, however…”

“I told you things would go smoothly, you had nothing to worry about. You’re a brilliant negotiator—”

“The traffic? Fuck. I had to keep shifting in my seat to avoid pins and needles.”

“That sounds awful, are your legs okay—”

“Did you know that Tokyo is number nineteen on the list of cities with the worst traffic congestion in the world? I know that, because I looked it up on the way to the airport. But boy, did it feel like it deserved the number one spot. I think I lost feeling in my ass.”

“I did not know that. And, uh, is your ass okay—”

“Thank God for my private jet. These plush seats are the best things I’ve ever spent my money on.”

“That’s objectively not true, and you know it—”

“Then again, I think these seats in particular were Pepper’s choice? We remodeled the airplane’s interior like… two years ago. I couldn’t be bothered to meet with the airplane seat people and I just told her to pick whichever looked best. I had much more important things to tend to, like sewing up the holes in JARVIS’s Christmas stocking.”

“I am concerned about how you sort your list of priorities—”

“Hm, that’s right. I think it was around two, three weeks before Christmas and I didn’t want JARVIS to be upset about the whole stocking thing, you know?”

“I’m sure he wouldn’t have—”

“Also, you’re right, the single blueberry muffin was a bad idea because now my stomach won’t shut up. So I’ve ordered some pasta for my in-flight meal. Robbie’s making it, you’ve met Robbie—”

“I’ve met Robbie, yes, he’s—”

“Larry’s replacement after he resigned. Gotta say, I was sad to see Larry go. Guy worked for me for seven years. But then there was that thing with his grandma, and he had to leave, so… But! Robbie makes a mean carbonara, maybe even better than Larry, don’t tell Larry I said that—”

“I don’t even know Larry like that, how would I—”

“Mr. Stark, we’re ready to go.” The pilot—Paul—emerges from the cockpit, staring at him in anticipation.

Tony nods and makes a few rapid gestures with his free hand that he supposes Paul is only able to interpret perfectly after years and years of working for Tony. The gestures roughly translate to something like “Copy, I hear you, just let me wrap this up and then I’ll let you know when I’m done. Capiche?”

Paul—bless him—just gives him a curt nod and retreats back into the cockpit.

“Anyway,” Tony takes a deep breath and puffs his cheeks out with the exertion of his exhale, “I called because… I got a feeling, Steve.”

“A… feeling?”

“Just— A gut feeling. A feeling in your gut. Inside of me. Like a hunch?”

“Okay,” Steve says patiently, his voice low and warm, “what are you feeling?”

“I… got a bad feeling. Today. A few hours ago. The feeling came to me when I was sitting in traffic, and I just— I feel like something bad’s gonna happen today, Steve. I can feel it in the air. In my heart. In my gut. In my joints.”

“Your joints? Like… the feeling old people get when it’s about to rain?”

“Okay, maybe not in my joints. Also, are you calling me old, grandpa?”

“I did not, you told me you felt something in your—”

“Anyway, so yeah. Where was I? Oh, right. Feeling. Bad feeling. Like, like, I don’t know, something bad’s gonna happen. Like an accident. Like a plane crash.”

“God, please don’t say that. You’re scaring me, Tony.”

“And I guess, I just called because I… I feel like I need to do this before the plane crashes and I die a violent and fiery death.”

“Nothing bad’s going to happen, Tony—”

“Like, if I didn’t do this today, maybe I’d never get to do it, you know? And, uh, okay, I’ve honestly been ranting to stall for time, but the longer I keep it in the more nauseous I feel, so maybe I’m just gonna do it now so I can die in peace—”

“Do what? And stop saying that—”

“Look, I’m trying to be brave and honest here and— Wait, actually? Maybe I’m being a coward because if the plane actually does go down, I won’t have to face the consequences of my actions, so I guess I’m just going to say fuck it, and say that I love you.”

“The plane is not going to— Wait, what?”

“I, uh. Love you. I’ve known it for a while now. And, uh, I know we’ve only been dating for like, a week, but—” Tony blinks. They’ve only been dating for a week.

“...Fuck.” Tony can feel his own pulse starting to race. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“Tony?”

They’ve only been dating for a week. What is he doing? What the hell is wrong with him? Normal people don’t do this.

“Fuck. Shit, I mean— Uh, I’m sorry. That was super weird, huh?” Tony laughs nervously. He closes his eyes, gritting his teeth and cursing his stupid brain. Of course it’s weird. He always gets too attached to people way too quickly. No wonder Pepper was his only long term relationship. She was the only person who could put up with him—everyone else just got weirded out. “Uh, see you tomorrow? Or not. Fuck, sorry, I’m just gonna hang up before this gets—”

“Tony, wait.”

“...Yeah?” Tony says, hyper-aware of how breathless he sounds. His heartbeat is ringing in his ears. Everything is going to be fine. Right? Right. The worst thing Steve could do is… break up with him.

Oh, God, that is the worst case scenario. He really should’ve just kept his stupid mouth shut.

“Tony, are you freaking out? I feel like I can hear you freaking out from all the way over here.”

“No, I’m not, of course I’m not. Who says I’m freaking out? You have no proof. I am calm, I’m calm as a clam, is that the saying? Did I get it right? Or was it happy— Anyway, I am absolutely calm, I’m the calmest I could possibly be. Any calmer and I’d be asleep. I’m—”

“Tony. Breathe.”

Tony forces himself to drag in a slow breath as he grips the arm of his seat with his free hand, focusing on the soothing hum of the airplane’s engine.

“Look, Tony, I—”

“No, listen. I’m sorry I jumped the gun, I hope I haven’t weirded you out or anything. You really, really don’t have to say it back to me. I mean it.”

“Tony—”

“No, in fact— Please don’t say anything. It’s fine. Let’s just pretend this never happened, okay?”

“But—”

“Drop it, Steve. Please?” Tony pleads. Clearly, his brain hadn’t been firing on all cylinders. That is the only reason that could explain his temporary lapse of judgment. “Look, I feel like talking about it more right now is going to send me spiraling into a panic attack.”

“...Okay. Fine.”

“Thank you. Uh, I’ll see you when I get home. If I get home. If the plane doesn’t crash. Haha.”

“Would you please stop saying that? It’s not funny.”

Tony latches onto the change in topic like a lifeline. “It is objectively true, you know. In order for me to be able to see you tomorrow, the plane has to land safely, and unfortunately, some things are just beyond my control. Like, who’s to say the plane won’t explode mid-air and—”

“The plane is going to land safely and you’re going to come back home to me in one piece. This is non-negotiable, Tony. You hear me?” Steve demands, his voice all hard authority and no-nonsense, like there will be Consequences should Tony fail to comply.

As if he could ensure Tony’s safety with the force of his willpower alone.

Come back home to me.

That sounds good. Really good. Tony closes his eyes and pictures Steve’s baby blues in his mind’s eye. Warmth flowers in his chest.

“I hear you.”

“Great.”

“Awesome. I, uh, I gotta go now.”

“Okay. See you tomorrow.”

“See you.”

Tony hangs up and lets Paul know that he is done with his phone call. The jittery feeling left over from his call with Steve refuses to leave him, however, so he pulls up the drawing application on his phone and begins sketching something just to give his brain something else to fixate on.

He tends to lose track of time when he is hyperfocused on a project, so he isn’t exactly surprised that the next time he becomes aware of his surroundings, the plane is already well up in the air, his sketch of what looks like a flying coffee pot is almost finished, and Robbie is placing a plate of spaghetti carbonara on the table in front of him.

“Spaghetti carbonara. With extra cheese.”

Tony’s mouth waters as he eyes the mountain of grated Pecorino Romano sitting atop the pasta. He sighs dreamily and smiles up at Robbie.

“You’re a lifesaver.”

“Enjoy, Boss.” Robbie grins and slips back into the kitchen.

He only realizes just how truly famished he is after taking his first bite, and proceeds to finish the rest of his meal with gusto. Afterward, he spends the majority of the remaining flight time sleeping, the result of post-carbonara food coma and his sleep-deprivation finally catching up to him.

It’s well past two in the morning when Tony finally makes it to his floor in the Tower, which is why he is surprised to see Steve sitting on his couch, one of Tony’s fantasy novels open in hand.

“Steve, what are you doing here?”

Steve’s head snaps up at the sound of his voice. Tony frowns. “Actually, why are you awake at all?” He is usually an early sleeper, unless—

“Nightmare?” Tony gives him a sympathetic smile. It wouldn’t be the first time. In the early days of their friendship, Tony and Steve would sit together in the living room whenever they had trouble sleeping, talking to each other until the sun came up.

Steve shakes his head, closing the book with his eyes still trained on Tony. “No, I was just… waiting for you.” Tony blinks.

“It’s…” Tony glances at his watch. “Half past two. In the morning.”

“I know, I just…” Steve stands up, shoving his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants. He ambles over before coming to a stop right in front of Tony. “I wanted to see you.”

Tony stares at him uncomprehendingly. “You’ll see me later anyway.”

“I couldn’t wait any longer. I didn’t want to go to sleep without seeing you first,” Steve says, low and earnest. His gaze wanders around Tony’s face, as if he were cataloguing each and every facial feature and trying to locate any changes he might’ve missed during his absence.

“Oh.”

Steve steps closer, arms snaking around Tony’s waist and pulling him close. His next words are whispered against Tony’s shoulder.

“I knew you’d make it home safely.”

“Uh, yeah.”

“You were wrong.”

“I was… wrong.” Tony swallows. “Uh, turns out the bad feeling completely disappeared after I woke up from my nap on the plane, so I suspect that perhaps the bad feeling I got was due to my severe hunger and sleep deprivation. I mean, I’ve heard about hallucinations caused by hunger or exhaustion, but this was—”

Steve presses a soft kiss to the column of Tony’s neck, effectively cutting off Tony’s ramblings.

“Tony,” Steve whispers against his skin.

“Yeah?” Tony squeaks.

“Please don’t call me before a flight and say that you think the plane is going to crash, ever again.”

“Right. Noted. I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted,” Steve says, pulling away slightly and loosening his hold around Tony.

Tony allows himself to relax, letting out a quiet sigh. This thing with Steve is so new and delicate that every single physical contact still sends his heart fluttering, butterflies going crazy in his stomach.

Which makes, in retrospect, his abrupt love confession—as truthful as it was—that much more insane. God, Stark. Never do that again.

Except, it turns out that Steve only pulled away to slide his hands down the back of Tony’s thighs, wrapping his hands around them, and then lifting him up without warning.

Tony yelps, and in his alarm, promptly locks his ankles around Steve’s waist. When Steve begins moving, Tony quickly wraps his arms around Steve, resting his chin on Steve’s shoulder.

“Uh, Steve?”

“Hm?” Steve says, calm and nonchalant, as he begins walking away from the elevator.

“Um— Wait— My suitcase—”

“Leave it. It’ll still be there in the morning.”

Tony blinks, staring dumbfoundedly at his lonely suitcase, abandoned by the elevator. It becomes smaller and smaller with every step Steve takes.

“Where are we going?”

“Your bedroom.”

“Why are you carrying me there?”

“Because I want to.”

“You know it’ll be faster if you just let me walk, right?”

“Maybe. But you won’t be in my arms.”

“Um.”

“Bear with me, will you? I missed you.”

“I, uh, missed you too.”

Steve hums, satisfied. Tony lets himself settle more comfortably in Steve’s arms.

When Steve has successfully carried him to his bedroom, Tony fully expects Steve to deposit him on the bed.

That is not, in fact, what happens.

Instead, Steve turns around and begins walking backwards towards the bed before sitting down on it. Tony, still seated on his lap, swallows and pulls back slightly to look at Steve.

“Look, Steve, as much as I’ve missed you, I’m kind of tired right now. I mean, don’t get me wrong. This whole carrying thing? Great. Very romantic. Ten out of ten. But I’m just not in the mood for sex, you know? Like, I’m not even sure I would be able to get it up if—”

“We’re not going to have sex.”

Tony blinks.

“We’re not?”

“We’re not. I’m just here to tuck you in.”

“Oh.”

Steve reaches up and begins undoing his tie. After setting it aside on the bed, he begins to unbutton Tony’s shirt. He takes his time, one button at a time.

“So…” Steve begins with a deep breath as he unbuttons the final button. “Did you mean, uh, what you said to me? On the phone?”

Tony closes his eyes, feels his own cheeks heating up. “Steve—”

“I’m sorry, Tony, I know you told me to drop it. But— I feel like if you did mean what you said, I owe it to you to… set the records straight.” When Tony opens his eyes again, Steve is looking up at him, blue eyes solemn.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… We have only been together for a week. Well, eight days. In fact, we’ve only been on one date. And it was interrupted. By giant lizards.” Steve chuckles incredulously.

Tony remembers that day very well. They were in the middle of dessert at Tony’s favorite Italian place when they received the call to assemble—something about giant lizards wreaking havoc in Central Park.

The lizards had green, gunky blood that got into the nooks and crannies of the suit. It had taken forever to clean.

“But Tony…” Steve gathers the material of Tony’s unbuttoned shirt in both of his fists, pulling him closer until their noses are only inches apart.

The second their eyes meet, Steve smiles the sweet, lopsided smile that never fails to make Tony’s stomach flip.

“I need you to know that… I didn’t have to date you to know that I loved you. I figured that a long time ago.”

Tony stills, breath frozen in his lungs.

“I guess, what I’m saying is… I love you too. I’ve loved you for a very long time, Tony. Even way before—” Steve breaks eye contact, looks down as he clears his throat. When he speaks again, his voice is tight. “Way before we got together. I’m talking… years before.”

Tony still finds it hard to breathe. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Steve says, the word more breath than sound. He meets Tony’s dazed gaze. “So you don’t have to worry about… jumping the gun. Not with me. I’m in it for the long haul.”

“...Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Good.” Tony feels a lightness growing inside of him, spreading outwards to his extremities.

“Good.” Steve smiles, warm and impossibly fond.

“...Glad we’re on the same page.” Tony’s gaze drops down to Steve’s lips.

“We are.” Steve inches closer, nose brushing Tony’s. He then tilts his head ever so slightly and takes Tony’s lower lip between his, kissing him so tenderly Tony’s heart feels like it’s about to burst with it.

Steve’s warm hands slide up Tony’s naked back under his open shirt, sending goosebumps breaking across his skin. Tony buries his hands in Steve’s hair and relishes the feeling of the soft strands caught between his fingers. They stay caught up in each other for a few moments, capturing and releasing each other’s lips until the need for breath becomes too unbearable.

They break apart eventually, accompanied by soft chuckles. Steve smiles up at him, lips slick and cherry red, courtesy of Tony. He reaches up to caress Tony’s right eyebrow with the pad of his thumb, fleeting and affectionate.

“Get some rest, okay? You must be really tired. I should probably go to bed, too.”

Tony looks down at his lap, clearing his throat. “Uh, I know that we haven’t done this before, but…”

Steve waits patiently for Tony to gather his thoughts, hands stroking up and down Tony’s sides.

“Do you want to stay with me tonight?” Tony finds the courage to meet Steve’s eyes, holding his breath.

Steve’s blue eyes are gazing at him intently, looking at him like he’s the only person in the world worth his sole, undivided attention.

Tony swallows. “No sex. Just to sleep. If you—”

“Yes.”

“Yeah?”

“I would like that very much.”

“Okay.”

“Good.” Tony feels his own lips slowly curve up into a smile, wide and unbridled.

“Good.” Steve nods, lips twitching, his eyes never leaving Tony’s.

Tony grins, feeling near giddy with delight. “Glad we’re on the same page.”

“We are, sweetheart.” Steve looks up at him, blue eyes fond and smile radiant. “We definitely are.”

#stevetony #stevetony fic #stony #stony fic #superhusbands #steve/tony #steve x tony #mine #earl wrote something

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shadyteacup · 3 years

Note

Hey can i have a request where Fyodor, dazai, and Chuuya comfort the reader after their dog dies? My 14 year old dog is being put down on Thursday and i am NOT okay

Hey, there.. I'm so sorry.. I know that this is really hard and painful, but I need you to be strong, okay? All my love to you♡

I'm done with Dazai and Chuuya, decided to post then first.. I will post the Fyodor req very soon..

Stay Strong, My Love

Dazai

Dazai had rushed home the moment he had received your text. He was worried about you, and also immensely sad. He hadn't expected this to happen. He found you lying on the couch, hugging a pillow. He noticed the tiny shakes of of your form, a result of crying.

He approached you slowly, and gently weaved his hand through you locks.

"Hey, honey.", he said, kissing your head.

You stiffened at his voice, not having noticed him come in.

"Osamu?", you whispered.

"Yes, love. It's me."

You turned to face him; your eyes were red and your face showed signs of exhaustion.

He wiped your tears with the pad of his thumb and gave you a warm, reassuring smile.

"Come, let's take care of you."

He picked you up, and took you to the bed, placing you on the edge while he created a soft wall of pillows for you to rest your back on. The position you were in on the couch when he found you must have hurt your back and neck. What you needed right now was a soft yet firm backrest. After placing the pillows, he helped you scoot over and rest your back. He rushed to the kitchen to fetch you a glass of water.

"Drink up."

He had stopped to buy your favourite ice-cream on the way home. He wanted to help you feel better.

"Look what I got!"

You smile at the tub of your favorite ice-cream in his hands.

"Thanks."

You both ate in silence. A lot was going on in your head, and Dazai knew that those thoughts and memories only made you sadder. But death was a natural process. It was unavoidable. One must embrace it, and in a way, celebrate it. For death signifies freedom. In many cultures, death is termed as the beginning, and not the end. The soul is believed to move on, and attain peace. He believes in this, too. As someone who has wanted to die for a long time until now, he has always found his body to be tiresome burden. Death would release him from his physical shackles, and he envies anyone who has attained that level of peace.

Death shouldn't be feared or considered as a sad occurrence. A person who has lost someone close to them, must come to terms with it. They must accept it and move on in life. And to do so, one must mourn. Mourning helps us to experience all of feelings and emotions, and allows our mind to feel free and clear afterwards. It's like the feeling of satisfaction one gets after screaming their fears from the top of a cliff, or writing a diary. One must mourn properly to release all their pent up sadness and feelings.

So, even though Dazai knew that your thoughts would only make you feel sad, he wouldn't try to distract you from them. You need to experience the pain, to emerge as an even stronger individual.

"I feel like crying again.. I just.. miss...so much... it pains..."

You whispered, eyes tearing up again, and voice breaking.

He hugged you, and rocked you as you cried, whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

"I know, love.. It will pain, but you must stay strong, okay?"

When you had calmed down a little, you both talked about the many memories you had made. You both laughed over the little things. You both knew whom to blame when snacks would go missing from the table, or when slippers couldn't be found. You both fought over which of you was the most loved. You won, ofcourse.

Remembering all those memories made you smile, and appreciate the time you had spent together. The 14 years you had with each other were well spent, and you wouldn't trade those years for anything in this world.

Chuuya

Chuuya couldn't believe his eyes when he read, then re-read your message. He felt immensely sad, and worried. He knew how much you loved your dog, hell, he hadn't even spent a long time with him/her, but he was still emotionally attached.

He tries to hold in his tears, and decided to rush home.

You opened the door to find your redheaded boyfriend at the door. He noticed your red eyes and the dark circles under them. You must have completely neglected yourself these past couple of hours. He knew you get when you feel sad. You don't take care of yourself at all.

"Chuuya..."

You say, hugging him tightly. He hugged you back, his strong arms caging you in. His eyes started tearing up. Your body shook with your sobs as you held onto him. You both stayed at the door like that until your sobs had reduced to soft sniffs.

Chuuya reached inside to grab the keys and your coat.

He pulled you out, helping you into your boots.

"Where are we going?", you asked.

He led you to his car, a hand on the small of your back. Opening the passenger side door for you, he helped you climb in.

Seating himself on the driver's seat, he pressed the ignition button, and the car roared to life.

You loved his collection of luxury cars, but also knew how much he loved his bike.

"You didn't use the bike today?"

"No. I needed to carry something with me today."

He smiled at you, before leaning back to grab something from the back seat.

Handing you a box, he asked you to open it.

It contained pictures of you and your dog. You were smiling in those pictures. You could spot Chuuya in quite a few o them too. All three of you looked so happy. Most of the pictures were from trips that you three had been on. You three loved adventures, and often found yourselves on mountain tops, hills, scenic valleys and grasslands.

You tried to hold in your sobs, and smiled at the fond memories.

"I'm taking you to these places."

You looked at him, wide eyed.

"I don't think I can take it.. I can't go there now.. not without..."

Chuuya held your hand in his, and kissed your knuckles.

"I don't want you to associate these memories with sadness. I want you to remember these places, these pictures, and think of happiness. Let's create more memories. Happy memories. That way, whenever you think about your dog, you'll remember these places, and your heart will be filled with warm memories of mirth and laughter."

It was difficult to do what he said, since making more memories without your dog didn't feel right. But you understood why he asked you to do this. This would help you to move on, without forgetting the amazing times you spent together. Many times our brains tend to blur the times of sadness to help us stay happy. This results in the person grfually forgetting they ever had any sad times. The only fault in this system was that one tended to forget everything related to that sadness. And you didn't want to forget your best friend of 14 years. So you had to create more memories, memories that would help you hold onto the sad times, and cherish your bond.

You both spent the rest of day laughing and smiling, remembering your lost friend, and cherishing all the amazing times you three had spent.

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bonjour-rainycity · 3 years

Text

Double Heart | Chapter Seventeen ~ Split

|previous part|

Pairing: Haldir x OFC

Rating: PG-13

Word count: 1482

Warnings: None

A/n Hello hello! I know it’s not one of my normal update days, but this one is short, so enjoy this angsty bonus chapter!

Cosima

Weeks pass in routine. In the mornings I research with Alex or study Sindarin alone, sometimes venturing into the garden or library to occupy my time. The lunch hours are typically spent in the company of friends, and Lavandil and I have been passing many of our afternoons together in her shop. As the summer continues, business only grows, and I can see why she asked for the help. Her art is quite popular! She tried to teach me how to weave and, unsurprisingly, I’m terrible. So I mainly help clean and work with the customers.

Three nights a week, Alex, Baranor and I meet in the library and continue our lessons. On that, I actually am making progress. It’s allowed me to converse with Lavandil’s customers in their own language. It’s also helped me feel much more self-sufficient here. No longer must I have to rely on Lavandil or Rumil to translate when we go out. Ellyn I speak with still have to slow their words and repeat things several times, and sometimes I must ask for clarification, but the progress really is liberating.

Two days a week, right after breakfast, Alex and I meet Elrond in his study.

Lord Elrond insists on using the power in his fæ to attempt to aid us in recovering our memories. I hate to admit it, but his efforts are wasted and, on my part, not really wanted. Besides the memory of Mara and Nonna, I don’t remember anything, and at this point, I’m not sure I want to. I’m already too attached to the people here, and I’ve seen where that’s gotten me. I don’t want to remember people from home — love them, miss them, and then realize I can never return to them.

I don’t make much progress, anyway. Most days, Alex and I have nothing but headaches and exhaustion to show for our work. Every now and then, one of us will remember something small — a passing event or an aquauntaince from childhood — but nothing of real interest. Elrond agrees that the headaches and exhaustion are signs that we are not yet healed from whatever ordeal resulted in us arriving in Arda. He’s been keeping an eye on our fæs — apparently they are somehow injured — and says that the original wounds are all but healed.

Alex’s progress is less encouraging. His old wounds are healing, but nearly every time Elrond or Baranor checks, there’s a new injury. They don’t know what’s causing it, but privately, I have a theory. While Alex says he’s accepted this world, knowing him, there’s a part that’s still hanging on to our homeworld. Maybe that’s causing too much stress to allow him to heal. Because I’m healing, and I’ve fully accepted this world for what it is — impossible, different, but real.

And then at night time, training continues with Haldir.

I am careful to keep distance between us except when absolutely necessary. By the way he does the same, he’s recognized the urgent precariousness of our situation. As much as I want to confess the feelings I keep so tightly bottled up inside, to fall into his arms and ask him to love me forever, I cannot.

Because my forever is abysmally different than his.

So I keep my distance.

My effort to avoid excessive contact or time with him is helped by the fact that, not long after our first training session, he became incredibly busy. Though relations between him and Glorfindel are still tense, the two work tirelessly to train the newer guard. Often, by the time I make my way down to breakfast, Haldir is long gone, off to lead drills.

The distance between us hasn’t helped my internal predicament.

Too often, I catch myself following the line of his jaw, remembering the feeling of his arms wrapped around me, wanting to return to that excitement of just the two of us under the stars.

I don’t act on these thoughts, nor communicate them to anyone, though Lavandil certainly tries to break that resolve. She’s adamant that, even with my lifespan to consider, it is better to spend the time we have together in happiness rather than holding ourselves back from something that could be great.

I forcefully disagree.

I’d rather cause myself a little pain now than put Haldir in a position where he could be broken later.

Surprisingly, Rumil, once my tormentor, has become my closest ally. Any time someone attempts to bring up the subject of me and Haldir, Rumil promptly shuts it down, usually changing the subject to something outlandish enough to properly distract everyone. He kindly occupies my newfound free time and we go riding together at least once a week. Since Rumil has Roch, Haldir allows me to take Faervel out, and, where the horse used to be indifferent towards me at best, he now whinnies in greeting the second I set foot in the stables.

My life in Imladris is nice. It’s peaceful. It’s filled with wonderful friends and so much to discover. And I’m happy, there’s no doubt about that…even if something is missing. I caught my feelings early and took preventative action by distancing myself from Haldir, which is good…but it’s…unfulfilling, in a way, to stay far from him. I miss eating meals together and talking about our days before training sessions. I miss constantly having him around. I miss him teasing me and moments where it’s just us.

I miss him.

But I won’t lose my resolve.

If my sadness can save Haldir pain, then I will bear it.

{***}

Haldir

Summer in Imladris passes quickly. My days revolve around training the newer guard, and they show promising progress. Lothlórien’s borders are much more extensive than that of Imladris’, and I am confident adopting some of the techniques I use with my wardens at home to fit Elrond’s guard will help them be more prepared when the orcs attack again. My brothers have been indispensable, kindly offering their help and allowing me to use them as examples for the other soldiers. Orophin, of course, plans his schedule around Lavandil’s, but I have him with us about three days a week. Rumil joins nearly every day, only disappearing on Saturday mornings to take the horses out with Cosima.

Cosima.

My mind has been consumed by her for weeks.

If I am being honest, it’s been consumed with her long before then, probably up to the moment she arrived in this world. I now understand that my desire to keep her near me after the attack, and every moment after, was not only a preventative measure to make her feel better — it was my need to keep her close. To keep her safe. To have that reassurance that she is alright, and, if we were to be attacked again, I could defend her myself.

I really do owe Rumil an apology.

Turns out my brother knows me better than I know myself.

But despite the startling realization that I want to be with a human woman—not just any human woman, Cosima—the days continue.

Not of small concern is Cosima’s health which, mercifully, is improving. Her sessions with Elrond to attempt to regain her memories must be helping — though her memories have not returned, the scars on her fæ are nearly completely healed.

Aside from my monitoring of her health through Elrond and Baranor, my busy schedule prevents me from seeking her out. We continue to train together three times a week — she is making vast improvements — but our interactions are hesitant, a little awkward. I worry I overstepped my bounds that first night, or perhaps, even before that — maybe the night under the stars — for she certainly keeps her distance now. No longer do we eat together or talk in our free time. It’s a strange feeling, but it causes me stress not to see her during the day. Even a quick interaction would be enough, just to catch a glimpse of her smile or hear the approval of her laugh, but those are few and far between.

But, as much as it pains me, it is for the best.

I hate to think of it this way, but Cosima’s life is short and her future uncertain. Were she an elleth, there would be no issue — I could tell her of my feelings and she could return them and we could spend the rest of our never-ending lives together.

But Cosima is human. Even if she does choose to stay in Arda forever, her forever and mine are vastly different. If I give in, do as I so desperately want to and build a life with her…

She does not know it, but she has the power to break me.

And, while I still hold a sliver of the ability to keep that from happening, I must seize on it.

A/n Thanks for reading, and happy weekend! Likes, comments, and reblogs make my day! See you Monday with a new chapter :)

|next chapter|

|masterlist|

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Tolkien tag list: @anangelwhodidntfall @eru-vande

Haldir tag list: @tolkien-apologist

Double Heart tag list: @lainphotography @themerriweathermage @thophil2941btw @kenobiguacamole @wishingtobeinadifferentuniverse @from-patroclus-with-love @boywivlove @ordinarymom1 @my-darling-haldir @sweet-bea-blossom @moony-artnstuff @sleepyamygdala

#haldir #haldir x ofc #haldir x oc #haldir fanfic #haldir fanfiction

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johnkrrasinski · 4 years

Text

𝐄𝐱𝐢𝐥𝐞

Chapter 1: You Were My Town

full masterlist // series masterlist // commission open // support my work

Pairings: Dark!Steve Rogers (in future chapters) x Reader

Word Count: 2,061

Summary: Steve Rogers; a Hollywood A-lister and your clandestine occasional hookup. Best friends since childhood, but people change and friendships fall out. Now you were merely strangers with benefits. What happens when one day you stopped being his doormat to be a better man’s queen? The selfish Steve Rogers would not like it. How far is he willing to go to get his favorite possession back?

Warnings: smut, non-con/dub-con, dark Steve (in later chapter), angst, Steve Rogers is an asshole in this one, no redeeming qualities. (MUST BE 18+)

A/N: first chapter is finally here!! this series is dedicated to the lovely @belovedcherry who commissioned this story and developed the concept. thank you for being a friend when i truly needed it. i’m really glad that you trusted me to write this story for you. with all my heart, i sincerely hope you like it. this series will be updated everyday, there will be 4 more chapters ahead.

PICTURE EXCLUSIVE: New Couple Alert! Steve Rogers and a blondie bombshell can’t keep their hands off each other! The headline verbalized.

The notorious heartthrob was spotted leaving The Ritz-Calton Hotel in Los Angeles around 2 AM with Spanish model, Alondra Ondiviela, 28, who looked stunning in a salmon sports bra and black overall, as she walked hand-in-hand with Dusk and Dawn star, Steve Rogers.

Steve Rogers was last linked to Blade in Deep actress, Anne Amorós back in early spring this year but had reportedly split after only two months dating.

Steve Rogers has been previously linked to many gorgeous models in the past, earning him the infamous title of ‘Hollywood’s favourite ladykiller.’ Will Alondra Ondiviela be the one to finally make Steve Rogers settle down and give up his womanizer ways? Placing our bets on how long this couple is going to last!

You closed the tab on your browser as you sighed defeatedly on your couch. You laid your head back on the headrest as you shut your eyes and folded your arms against your chest. Just how many more gossip articles can you endure?

Steve Rogers was your childhood best friend and… Perhaps the only man you had ever truly loved. You knew it was nothing but sheer naivety for you to concede that. You knew it was cruel and inequitable to your heart, but, you still held on to that tiny glimpse of hope that someday, things will change. He will change. Despite all the shit he had put you through, you couldn’t abnegate yourself from him. He always lured you back in with his sweet words and sinful lips whenever you try to expel him from your door.

It wasn’t always like this. Back in kindergarten, Steve used to be this good, shy, scrawny kid who had a blistering passion for art. He was always very twitterpated by watching live shows on stage. When you were kids, Steve would try to sneak both of you into the theatre when the lights were out. Steve didn’t grow up in a very lucky family. His abusive father abandoned his mother when he was only four years old, and since then, his mom had been working tirelessly to keep a roof over their heads and fill in their fridge with food.

You, on the other hand, were a little luckier than him. Your parents had decent jobs that paid the bills well enough to survive. Whenever Steve was short in cash, you would always offer him a little bit of your pocket money or your meal. You would even offer to buy tickets for both of you so you didn’t have to sneak in and could actually get good seats. But he would always say, “well, where’s the fun in that?”

So you’d drop the topic and go along with whatever deceitful ways he had in mind. After all, he was your best friend and you trusted him. You’d rather choose the thrill of bootleg games than waiting ten minutes early before the show starts anyway. But you remember it vividly under the aura of those stage lightings and when the actors were personifying in their larger-than-life costumes, he would be so mesmerized by the show before him that sometimes he wouldn’t even say a word to you at all until it was over.

Before you went home, he and you would walk to the nearest burger place, where you would eat under the polychromatic neon sign and he would tell you, “someday, I’m going to my face on the big screen or one of those giant stages and I would make my mom proud!” he cheered. And you’d always encourage him, “…and I’ll be there to watch and clap for you in the audience.”

Rest in peace, to your naïve bravado… Little did you know, his dream was going to be your doom.

You remained closed friends as you grew up; going to the same school, sharing a few classes together, until, in high school, things began to change. He began to join auditions and taking art classes and extracurriculars. He became busier and busier every day to the point where he could only hang out with you on the weekends. That is when he absolutely had no rehearsals or he wasn’t too worn out from a week full of activities.

You also noticed the different manner and shift of inflexion when you two hung out. All he would talk about is the ‘clique’ of popular boys in school had asked him to sit with them at lunch and how the popular girls would start preening at him when he walked down the hallway. It was as if by partaking in these arts clubs, it gave him a VIP member card to get access into sitting with at exclusive spots and it upgraded his status.

He changed his looks as well, by going to the gym more often and eating more so that he would gain some muscles. He began dressing like one of those jocks and he would begin throwing in some flirtatious comments to those popular girls when they were around.

Eventually, he and you began to grow apart. It got worse when he started dating one of the popular girls, Janet, and he would ditch you even on weekends despite all the plans you had made weeks prior.

“I can’t hang out today, y/n. Janet’s parents are out of town and I think we are going to hook up in her giant pool!”

“But what about the movie that we planned to see together today? I thought you had been anticipating for it since a year ago?”

“I know, but can we just postpone it? It’s not like they are going to take it out tomorrow! We could still see it next weekend.”

“Well, we’ve bought the tickets, Steve.”

“Ah, shit, alright, I’ll just pay back the money, okay? How much are those tickets?”

“No, it’s fine, Steve. Don’t worry about it.”

“Really? You sure, y/n?”

“Yeah, I’ll just ask my mom or maybe Wanda to go see it with me. Don’t want those spoilers on the internet ruining it for me.” You chuckled hollowly. Disappointment filled up your heart but you pretended like it was alright, anyway. If Steve wanted to spend time with his girlfriend then, you had no right to stop him and force him to hang out with you.

“Ah, got it. Thanks, y/n. You’re the best!” and then the frozen seconds on the screen showed that he had ended the call.

The phone calls and text messages began to dwindle. You would often try to text or call him first but it would go to voicemail and or you would be left on read. When you were at school, Steve completely stopped hanging around you. He would rather be with his new ‘friends’ now. And he was too occupied with making out with Janet to notice you as you both walk past each other in the hall.

Wanda was your most trusted confidant and she knew about all the feelings you caged inside you for Steve. She would always be there for you when you cry over him and she would always encourage you to move on and stop trying to reach him. “You deserve so much better than this, y/n. Why would you ruin yourself for an asshole like him?”

Curse your adamant heart for refusing to listen to Wanda and take her advice. In the bottom of your heart, you knew that Wanda was right. You deserved so much better than what Steve had turned you into. You used to be this bright-eyed, rose-coloured heart person who saw your future in a radiant lustre. You were always drawn to helping people out. You used to think that maybe you’d end up being a nurse or a school counsellor, but as you grew older, gradually, you realized that there is far way more pernicious malady than physical ones.

Like the wound in your heart that Steve keeps tapping on every time he acts like he didn’t know you or he left another call or text unanswered. Every time he posted pictures of him and Janet, or him and ‘the boys’ who would walk around the school as they owned it. You had always dreaded those boys. You knew they were bad news and you didn’t want to be associated with them under any circumstances. You and Steve used to make fun of them, how much of a loser they are and how negligent they are toward their grades. But who would’ve known that Steve would turn into his own worst abomination?

Eventually, like all good (and bad) things, they must come to an end. You graduated with a 3.8 GPA and you were proud of yourself for all those times you spent being at home to do your homework and study until around 2 AM.

You were happy; you were satisfied with your grades, your parents were there, cheering for you in the audience and taking countless pictures of you when you walked on stage, and you could finally move forward to the next stage of your life. But something was missing.

“Gosh, I can’t wait to finally graduate.” He scanned the paper with a mark that mocked him in big bold red as he sat at the edge of your twin-sized bed. You had just returned from school and you had received the result of your Math tests. You luckily got a B+ but clearly, Steve didn’t acquire the same latter.

“C’mon, it’s just one bad test. It doesn’t mean that your life is over.”

“I know but, I don’t like seeing a C+ on my test, y/n. It makes me feel inadequate. Besides, I need a solid 3.7 GPA in order to get into NYU. Otherwise, I wouldn’t stand a chance.”

“Stop being so dramatic, you still have what it takes. You just need to do a lot better in the next one.”

“Yeah, I’m really gonna have to work my ass off though. Math has never been my strongest suit.”

“Neither it’s mine, but you know what? Someday we’ll wear our graduation hat and this wouldn’t even matter. You’d probably forget that you’ve ever had a C in your high school year.”

You recalled those times where Steve would endlessly talk about graduating and what would happen when both of you go on separate ways. He would tell you “don’t be silly. We’ll always be best friends even if we go to different universities. It’s not like we don’t have a phone, y/n.”

You always imagined that on your graduation day, you both would celebrate it together but of course, those dreams have long perished. Steve didn’t even have a smile on his face when your name was being announced.

He was supposed to be there, standing right next to you and engulf you in a warm, giant hug. The one that he used to give on your birthdays. But no, now, you could only watch him from several feet away farther than you both used to be. You could only hear his echoing laugh as he high-fived the boys and twirl Janet around up in the air like the happy ending in your favourite Rom-Com movies.

That should be me. Your heart cry mourned for the memories and the fractured promises. It was like there was this colossal fortress between the two of you and while you were fighting to climb it to reach him, he, on the other hand, didn’t even have the patience to wait for you.

It’s okay though. At least you had your parents and Wanda and her parents and twin brother, Pietro who adorned this special day distracting you away from the anguish of missing Steve. You were going to spend this entire day with the people who truly loved you and you loved just as equal before you had to leave for the new phases of your own lives.

You will finally move to your college dorm, have yourself a roommate, and invest your time and energy in something that you knew you were always meant to do and it excites you that your journey of helping people will start soon.

And Steve Rogers will be nothing but a consigned to oblivion memory that will sink like a battleship beneath the waves.

At least for now.

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jonahlovescoffee · 3 years

Note

Hi! I hope you are well : ) So, I was trying to think of an idea and then I saw the title on your blog - loving can hurt sometimes- and that kind of gave me an idea...Maybe one of the wdw boys is in a relationship with the reader, y/n, and they hit a rough patch and things are kind of hanging on a thread. Neither of them know whether it's going to work out. Hope this inspires you! I'll send some more if I can think of something.

Grey | J.M.

a/n: @randomlimelightxxx thanks so much for sending in an ask <33333 and I’m sorry for replying to it this late :( i love love love your idea!!! but i hope u don’t mind if i make it a little sadder (◐‿◑) whoops.

(ps: this turned out worse than i hoped but i do hope you like it)

summary: a happy ending isn’t always guaranteed, even when you love someone with every fibre of your being, because life isn’t a fairytale.

warnings: angst

word count: 2517

“i can’t believe i let you go.”

Jonah doesn’t know for sure how long he has been staring at the framed photograph that has been hanging on the living room wall for as long as he can remember. It was taken during one of the few 4th of July celebrations that you both had celebrated together. In the picture, your smile was brighter than ever, even brighter than the fireworks that were bursting through the dark night behind you, fiery blooms amongst the stars. He had an arm around your shoulders, his green orbs looking at you lovingly as you took the selfie.

Both of you seemed so happy back then—something you both hadn’t felt in a long time, even before your dramatic fallout. You were going strong, weren��t you? Both of you used to be the poster children of the perfect couple — you had each other backs and lifted each other up when the going got tough, which led you to believe that nothing could ever come between the two of you.

But life did. When his career started to blow up, your relationship with him did too.

Every time he closes his eyes; the vivid memory of the horrible night months ago starts to play before him like a movie.

“Jonah Marais Roth Frantzich, have you been drinking again?” You tore your eyes away from the TV and directed it towards him instead when you heard the sound of the door opening then closing, followed by the rattling of keys as he threw it into the small box beside the door. The stench of alcohol filled your apartment almost immediately, indicating that he had a heavy intake of whatever alcoholic drink he consumed at the party.

He didn’t answer, or even bat an eye at you as he made his way into the kitchen to get a glass of water. Your lips pressed into a thin line as your blood boiled upon being ignored by him. You glanced at the clock. It was nearly 3am. This was the latest he had ever been home after attending a party, which was something he had been doing almost every day lately.

You hated his new habit of getting absolutely wrecked after every party, and he knew that too. He also knew that you hated him getting too friendly with the alluring LA models that were up to no good, as much as you hated him spending most of his time on his job, resulting with him neglecting you far too often for your liking, until you guys were basically nothing more than strangers living under the same roof.

He knew many things, but he never cared, because those were the requirements of his job — to constantly socialize and make music — so he thought that you’ll understand but from the look of the annoyed scowl on your face, that didn’t seem to be the case tonight.

“Jonah, answer me,” you ordered sternly from where you sat on the couch in the living room.

He didn’t know whether if it’s the fault of the alcohol that was coursing through his veins or the fact that both of you hadn’t really talked in days (maybe months) had started to drive him over the edge, but he found your displeasure oddly infuriating, although he knew you were merely looking out for him.

You are his girlfriend, not his fucking mother.

“Yes, not that it’s any of your business,” he seethed and you seemed taken aback by his reply. At least that’ll shut you up for now.

He placed the cup into the sink with a greater force than he intended before leaving the kitchen to head towards the master bedroom, trying his best to ignore your accusing glare that was still boring into his back and hold back the rest of the harsh words that was threatening to spill out of his mouth.

He knew he was drunk and he didn’t want to say anything that he would regret later in the morning so staying silent was currently the best option. Everything would return to normal the next day once you forgot about this, like you always had for the past few weeks. The tension would be gone and you both would return to playing the role of a lovey-dovey couple that, unbeknownst to others, barely talked in what felt like forever.

But you had other plans. You weren’t letting this matter go this easily. This had been going on for too long. You had enough of his immature behaviour that was gradually driving a wedge between the two of you. You wanted -- no, needed -- this to stop right now, for his own good and yours.

You wanted the old Jonah back -- the Jonah who’d walk to the ends of the world for you, who’d join you in bed at night to ask about your day and who’d put you as his first priority. You walked briskly towards him and captured his wrist in your hand.

“I’m your girlfriend, Jonah, and I have the right to hold you accountable for your dumb actions,” you purposely emphasized on the three words that you knew would get on his nerves. You wanted him to talk, to explain why he was suddenly so obsessed with getting drunk. Was he stressed? Was something bothering him?

Once again, you received no answer from him.

“Drinking is bad for your health, Jonah,” you softened your tone, just by a little. “And you barely get enough sleep recently, it’s--”

“Just shut up for once, can you?” He jerked your hand away. “Always ‘Jonah don’t do this’, ‘Jonah don’t do that’ like I am some kind of dumb baby that needs help. Just so you know, I’m a grown man who is perfectly capable of making my own decisions, mind you.”

This was the first time Jonah had ever raised his voice at you. You tried not to let his words get to you, you tried to convince yourself that it was the alcohol talking for him but tears ended up welling up in your eyes anyways. You held them back as you continued to speak.

“I was just trying to advise—”

“I said shut the fuck up! Even if I do need help, I won’t be asking it from the likes of you!” Before you could react, the glass vase that was once placed beside the TV went flying against the wall behind you, shattering into a million pieces.

“What the hell is wrong with you, Jonah?” You cried out, your hands fisting the front material of his shirt. “What the heck was that for?”

“Get off me, you psycho!” he pried your hands off him and pushed you away forcefully, making you stumble backwards and fall to the ground due to your loss of footing.

Tears were streaming down your cheeks uncontrollably now. “You’ve changed. The old Jonah will never do this to me,” you stood up, wiping off your tears with the back of your hand.

“Maybe it’s because you don’t know me well enough.”

“You know what?” You were jabbing your finger on his chest. “If this is the real you, maybe I shouldn’t have dated you in the first place,” you shouted at him.

“Fine, don’t date me then! Maybe I finally can live a lot more freely without your constant nagging!”

Your breathing stopped for a moment and you swore his did too. Silence ensued, the only sound being the tv that you forgot to turn off before the fight.

Shit. He said too much.

When you finally came back to your senses, you pushed pass him to make your way into the bedroom, pulling out your luggage and set it open on the bed.

“You should’ve told me earlier that you didn’t want me in your life,” you said breathlessly as you proceeded to dump all your clothes into your luggage before slamming it shut, ignoring his pleas for you to stop.

“No, baby, I don’t mean what I said,” he grabbed your arm and you flinched at his touch. That was how he knew he messed up. Badly. “Let’s just forget—”

“I’m so done with always sweeping our problems under the carpet and pretend like they don’t exist, Jonah!” You yelled frustratedly. “Let me ask you, when was the last time we had a heart-to-heart talk, Jonah? When was the last time we had a peaceful meal together without arguing? When was the last time we actually spent quality time together?”

He couldn’t answer any of your questions.

“Can’t you see it? We haven’t been a couple for quite a while now,” you explained, pulling your closed luggage out of the room towards the front door, not forgetting to pick up your purse along the way. “What happened just now was just one more sign that we,” you gestured between the both of you, “are not meant for each other so maybe it’s for the best if we break up.”

“No, please, no,” he fell to his knees before you, his hands moving to grasp your arm. “Don’t go. I’m sorry. Please.”

“I’m not wasting any second more of my life with you,” you spat mercilessly in his face. “Now let go.”

“No, please, stay with me, baby,” he continued to beg, the grip on your hand unfaltering.

“I’m sorry,” you said and felt his grip loosen at the two simple words. He knew there was no point in holding on once you already made up your mind. “Goodbye, Jonah.”

You yanked your arm away and walked out the door, not looking back, leaving a distressed male behind, in tears.

Yes, Jonah remembers everything from that night, especially the slam of the door behind you as you walked out of his apartment and his life, forever.

And he is the one to blame.

Fast forward to the present, he misses you so much that he is starting to lose his mind.

He thinks about you so often that sometimes he forgets that you aren’t his anymore. He still finds himself reaching out to what used to be your side of the bed the first thing in the morning, only to find it cold and empty; he still looks forward to coming home from work every day to run into your arms that used to be his safe haven, only to be reminded by his quiet house that your laughter, your kisses, your touches are luxuries that he can no longer afford, no matter how wealthy he is.

You gave him a chance—scratch that, you have kind-heartedly given him countless chances in the past for him to make up for his mistakes, to prove to you that loving him was worth all the suffering, but all he did was disappoint you over and over again by choosing to walk away from you when his career was at stake.

It wasn’t until you were gone that he noticed all those valuable chances that have unknowingly passed him by.

He runs a hand through his hair and heaves a sigh, throwing his head back so that he is mindlessly staring at the ceiling.

He was cowardly fool, for putting his needs above the person who he swore to love till the end of time, for giving up when he should’ve fought a little harder to preserve what’s left of their love, for doing nothing as the distance between them grew by leaps and bounds until you eventually slipped out of his grasp into nothingness.

Most importantly, he was the world’s biggest idiot to ever think that he can live without you.

He knows that he should stop missing you; he knows that he should forget the past, or at least lock all the fond memories he had built with you into a box and shove it into the darkest, deepest corners of his mind, not to be opened ever again; he knows that he should move on, like you already did.

But “I know” and “I can” are two completely different things. Yes, he is terribly exhausted from holding onto the past, holding onto you, even as he feels the remaining shred of hope that you might one day return to him slowly diminish as days passed but at the same time, he is still too in love to let you go.

Therefore, for what seems like the thousandth time that month, he pulls out his phone from his pocket, and dials your number that is still marked as favourites in his contact list. As expected, the call goes to voicemail right away, after your recorded voice says, “Sorry, I can’t come to the phone at the moment but feel free to leave a message instead!” in a cheerful tone, as if you are mocking him for not being able to talk with you like he used to anymore.

After the beep, Jonah hesitates a moment before opening his mouth to speak, but no words escape. He has no idea where to start. He knows a simple ‘sorry’ isn’t going to fix everything, for the pain you had endured because of him is definitely not worth to be forgiven with a simple two-syllable-word. He contemplates if he should end the call, like what he has done for the past thousand times.

No, he has spent too much time dwelling in his misery without making any effort to win you back It’s about time he at least tries to start a proper conversation with you because even if you don’t reciprocate his feelings, you still deserve an apology from him.

“Hi,” he breathed nervously. “How are you? I know I should not be trying to contact you after what I did to you that night but,”

A pause.

“It’s not the same here without you, y/n. I miss your cooking, your terrible singing voice, your hilarious pep talks – hell, I even miss your long boring lectures whenever I forgot to wash the dishes,” he smiles a little at the memory.

“And I’m sorry, I really am, for ruining everything. I know it’s not enough but it’s true. Not a day passes where I don’t regret what I did to you that night and all the mistakes that I’ve made before that.”

“Please baby, give me one more chance to make it right. Just one more, please. Come back, be here with me because,” another pause.

He searches his brain for the right words to say, rubbing his temples with his fingers as his mind whirs.

Because of you, his life used to be filled with endless love and laughter. Your love was like the warm daylight, illuminating his world in golden, chasing away all the darkness. You painted his life with the vibrant colors of the rainbow whereas now that you’re gone, everyday it rains, the previous sunshine you provided long gone. He should’ve never let you go. With a swipe of his tongue over his trembling dry lips, he finishes his sentence before he decides to chicken out.

“Because I still love you. Without you, now everything’s grey.”

#wdw #why dont we #corbyn besson #daniel seavey #jack avery #jonah marais #why don’t we #zach herron #wdw imagines #jonah marais imagines #jonah marais x reader #jonah marais angst

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seventfics · 3 years

Photo

Blind Owl

Written for @witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo

Prompt: Temporary or permanent blindness Relationships: Triss Merigold/Philippa Eilhart Rating: M Content Warnings: None (Mild Gore, Blood and Injury) Summary: It's hard, but Triss finds a way to help Philippa.

Read on AO3

* * *

“Philippa.”

At the mention of her name the sorceress turns, her head held high. Too high, Triss notes, to be facing her directly.

The edges of the blindfold over Philippa’s eyes are stained red.

“Triss. I must say, of all the things that have happened today? I didn’t expect to meet you.”

Triss quirks a smile at her. “Disappointed?”

“No, never,” she says with a graceful wave of her dirtied hand. “Surprised. I overheard that all the mages had dipped from Novigrad. I should have known you would stay behind.”

“I wasn’t going to, to be honest. Geralt convinced me.”

“Yes, he’s good at that, isn’t he?”

Triss’ portal had taken them from Sigi Reuven’s bathhouse to her small room at the Rosemary and Thyme. It’s not her room, really, but a kindness of Geralt’s friends, and one she immediately took up. Better than the Bits, where she lived in tight quarters on a lopsided building. Now she has actual furniture she picked herself, a full bed that can support her weight without sinking, and a lock on her door. It is much more to her liking.

Philippa would hate her decor, if she could see it. They’ve always had different taste in furniture.

“Circumstances aside…I’m glad you’re with us, Phil.”

Philippa hums. She walks the room carefully, a hand tense with magic held forward to sense for objects. “And what are the circumstances, exactly?”

From her pocket, Triss brings out an agate.

“Geralt stumbled upon this, some time ago.” The stone glimmers from old traces of Philippa’s magic. “You want the Lodge back together. Well, so do we.”

“Ah. Our interests align.”

Though she is blind, Philippa props herself neatly on the lone bed’s edge as Triss explains the looming threat of the Wild Hunt. In all things she is flawless artistry. Her hands cross over a hip, as she lifts her legs to lounge over Triss’ bed—and oh, how familiar, the sight of her like that. It distracts her mid-speech more than once.

“In my state,” she drawls, gesturing to her blindfold, “I am not much help.”

Triss is less artful, but just as coquette with her lilting voice. “You are, Philippa,” and more seriously, she adds, “You were the best of us.”

“Quite. You understand that this is a matter most crucial for the survival of magic.”

After a moment’s pause, Philippa sits upright against the half a dozen pillows Triss hoards at the back. She presses a hand to her temples, sighing as if displeased by something.

It is the closest sign she’s going to give to her exhaustion. Her pain.

Triss’ heart aches to help. But Philippa is proud. She is strong on her own, and protective of that right. She would not accept an ounce of pity nor mercy, no matter how well-intended.

Years of her acquaintance have taught Triss how to work around that.

“We need you at your best. Phil,” she says, sitting by the weary sorceress to take one of her hands between her own.

Philippa tilts her head up then. Again, too high, and slightly left of Triss’ ear.

“Tell me what I can do.”

* * *

The wet stones under her fingertips harbor the cells of Philippa’s experiment. It’s grotesque, she knows. Some sections have grown beyond control, eye-masses with mutated pupils, multiple irises, some even larger than a megascope’s crystal. But as Philippa does her best rebuilding the Lodge, reforming allyships, and planning the Wild Hunt’s defeat, Triss must do this unpleasant work. For Philippa.

She nearly slips and falls down to her doom twice. The stones are at such a precarious altitude, at a precise distance from the cavern waterfall to promote cell growth without washing off the results. What was Philippa thinking? Growing eyes in such a dangerous place?

But here she is, carefully extracting the cells from the stone with her magic. She suspends them in a sterile magic seal, to store in her purse. For some reason, that makes her laugh, a sound that echoes back to her ears three times. She has Philippa’s eyes in her bag. Philippa’s beautiful eyes that had been gouged out by an angry and paranoid king. The amber of them is now indistinguishable from moss.

There is no time to rest between quests, and yet, once she is finished gathering the most that she can, Triss climbs to safer ground on shaky hands and knees, needing a second to breathe. Just a second. She cannot spare more than that to mourn, or cry, or remember how Phil used to tease her with just a stare and a raised brow.

It will be fine.

She will have new eyes. They won’t be the same, but Philippa won’t care. It’s just Triss who needs a second.

Back when they were a powerful Lodge of Sorceresses, and not the tattered survivors of imprisonment and war, Triss had mooned over the proud advisor to the crown of Redania. She didn’t make her attention obvious, but nothing goes under Philippa’s notice. The woman had made herself friends among spies and, like in all things, absorbed some of their skills.

They spent many nights in each other’s company. Sometimes, it was just to forget the cruelty of war, the greedy men who broke what they could not claim. Triss was lucky to be considered important. A sorceress has more worth as a power to be wielded than a woman to be abused.

And after the Battle on Sodden Hill, Triss had little trust in men.

Maybe that’s why she started this...liaison. And maybe it had been a shallow, poor excuse at first, but. Somewhere between disillusionment and distraction, her heart stole away in the owl’s nest of Philippa’s making.

“Do you think one day we could be happy?”

With a single candle to illuminate the room, Triss braves the words. This world is not made for them to find happiness, but they are powerful. They could make it so.

Philippa doesn’t move from her limp, careless spread over silk red sheets. The dim firelight paints her skin bronze. Nothing covers her, and it is beautiful.

“Happiness has never been my dream,” she says, her back to Triss. “My vision remains on the future of the Northern Kingdoms and the conservation of magic. A sorceress’ dream.”

That is Philippa. Sturdy. Focused. Her hedonist streak is a sparse creature, easily ignored.

Still, Triss hopes. That is who she is.

A long pause ebbs the nervousness buried in Triss’ chest. No one disturbs them, which is rare. No megascope call. No xenovox. No letter from either of the kings they serve.

Triss nearly dozes off, warm and content with things, when she hears a quiet, “Do you see me, in your dream of peace and leisure?”

“I do.”

She opens her eyes to the jostle of movement. Philippa has finally turned around to stare at her, her dark hair a wild fan over her shoulders and breast.

“Perhaps,” she says as she brings up fingers to play with the loose fire-red strands over Triss’ ear, “perhaps one of us should keep that possibility in our mind.”

* * *

“Ah, you’ve returned.”

The surprise lilt in Philippa’s voice tells her that she did not expect Triss so soon. She understood the hard undertaking of retrieving her growing eye cells from the deepest caves of her most secret hideout.

But where Philippa is clever, Triss is eager. Of course she would go as quickly as possible. The Wild Hunt does not wait. The witch hunters of Novigrad will not cease their chase. There is no time to be dallying.

“Well darling, hand them here," Philippa starts, her palms opened to receive Triss' hard-earned work, "so I can get to the matter of fusing them in.”

“Let me.”

She pauses at the plea. If she had eyes, Triss imagines she would have blinked.

But it’s only a short lapse in time, her mind running through a million scenarios.

Eventually, she nods, deeming the offer acceptable. “If you insist. But do not take too long, I hear our brave witcher is to return soon with our esteemed Cirilla, and I have much to talk with her about the future of our Lodge.”

Slowly, Philippa undoes her blindfold, unknowingly as Triss goes to kneel in front of her.

She does flinch at the sight. It is a nasty healing wound, dark and sunken where eyes should be. The skin around the sockets is black. But her own chest, glamored to hide snarled skin, bares worse scars from battle.

The cells take time to transfer from her purse, and they are not yet fully nurtured. They will have to grow into place. With Philippa’s magic to amplify sight, it would be enough to maneuver buildings and streets on her own. It is not by any means a perfect resolve.

Triss puts great care in choosing the healthiest cells. She tries not to cause too much discomfort—any sort of magical procedure that modifies the body would be painful, at the very least uncomfortable—but if it is unbearable, Philippa bears it.

When the last sliver of magic dissipates, Philippa voices a tense but honest, “Thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me.”

There, still knelt between pale thighs and gazing up at the newly-healed flesh around mossy eyes, Philippa kisses her.

A wound Triss did not know she still had in her heart opens. Fresh blood pounds through her body like a blaze set free on a forest. It burns, the kiss like a match against her lips, and the world narrows down to them, now, together after everything. Her arms cannot hold onto Phil any harder as she kisses back with all her being. All her fire and pain and love that never waned.

When they separate, Phil whispers, “Do you still see me in your dream of the future?” like a secret that should not be named in fear of shattering it.

“I do.” They don’t have time to second-guess their dreams or the choices that got them closer to achieving them. Just a second is all they can spare, to doubt.

One day, Triss hopes they can finally stop running, stop fighting, scheming, surviving, and simply be.

It will be fine.

They stay in each other’s arms, breathing each other’s air. Philippa’s fingertip lingers above Triss’ lip, almost playful in its upwards tug. This time, when Triss stands up and Phil raises her head, it feels like she is looking at her.

“Well, then we better stop this world-ending business first.”

Triss gives her a smile through her eyes.

One day.

#merihart #triss x philippa #rarepair summer bingo #myfics #tt

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aenxiome · 3 years

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Chapter 5: inter-dimensional super spy

It doesn't take long for Jazz to get me signed out of school and on the way back to Fenton Works. All it took was a little bit of manipulation on Jazz's part. Or what she would rather call " a practical use of psychology," but either way, she got me out. All it took was for her to hall me up to the office and rattle on about how close I was to the last ghost fight and that I had suffered a shock. She played with the office staff as if they were a soft putty in the palm of her hand.

She can be rather scary when she gets an idea in her head. Unfortunately for her, in my opinion, she has to be back in the building in thirty minutes or less. If not, she will be counted as skipping, and that would tarnish her excellent record. So as soon as we both were buckled in the car, she started rushing as if she was a madwoman. It doesn't matter how many times I try to talk to her. That impenetrable focus of hers just won't budge. The only conversation I managed to have with her was right before we turned onto the street before our neighborhood.

" So what is the plan," she asks, interrogating me. I tap my fingers along the side of the window as I search for an answer. The silence that I created didn't bode well for me as soon after we pulled into the driveway. " So," she asks again, " the plan? How are you going to get to the FarFrozen?" Turning towards her with a mixture of pink and green shining through my cheeks, I admit, " I didn't think about that." Jazz leans back into her seat dramatically as she says, " Well, you were obviously thinking about something." she crosses her arms while glancing at my fingers, " you were tapping your fingers relentlessly the whole way here."

I couldn't help the look that came onto my face when I looked at her. How could one of the smartest people I know be so clueless sometimes? " I was more worried about how I'm going to manage to sneak down to the lab and into the Zone without either one of them noticing me. I know they aren't all that observant when it comes to either one of us, but I would think they would notice me unlocking the portal and skipping on through." I tell her sarcastically. As soon as the words left my mouth, she blanched a bit at the thought.

" I came up with a plan," being a bit disappointed with my usefulness, ``I can barely stop myself from grinding my teeth as I spit out, "but I'm going to need some help to pull it off." At the word help, Jazzs' complexion brightened considerably, showing herself to be eager at the thought of being useful. We talk for a minute, just getting the kinks of the plan out of the way before we notice the time. Jazz only has ten minutes to get back. With no hesitation, She forces me out of the car, practically pushing me out on my butt, and is rushing back down the street to school. Leaving me sitting alone in the middle of the driveway.

After sitting for a moment disconcerting at the situation, I get up, brush myself off, and head over towards the front door. Once I get to the door, I stick my head in intangible and look around the room, hoping it is empty, which doesn't make the top ten of my wisest decisions. Using my ability made a tightening sensation go through my core, causing it to throb, knocking the wind out of me. As soon as I confirm that no one is near the door, I slip inside and drop the intangibility. I then go to lean up against the door for a moment. I stay there for a bit to catch my breath and then continue to my bedroom. Getting there was a bit of a challenge as I maneuvered over the stairs' squeaky spots, hoping not to get caught.

As soon as I got to my room, I flopped down onto the bed in contempt wis-, getting a little bit of a reprieve, not that I expected the peace to last for long in the first place. So I spent a little time before the plan turned into action, getting ready for my voyage through the Zone. I rummaged through the room, looking for a spare bag that I wouldn't mind messing up, and started to pack. Among my supplies is a first aid kit, a bottle of Motrin, which I may or may not have taken a couple of beforehand, along with a sweatshirt and a change of clothes. You never know when you are going to need them. Then, leaving extra room in the bag for a few weapons I plan to take from the lab, I close it up and relax, waiting for the signal.

I started to zone out, and soon enough, I was beginning to nod off to sleep until I heard the echo of the phone ringing throughout the house. On the second ring, the phone stopped, and a voice echoed, calling, " MADDIE! GRAB THE FENTON ANTI-CREEP STICK; THERE IS A GHOST ATTACKING THE SCHOOL!" A few moments later, I could hear rushing echoing footsteps coming from below and the yell of, " NO GHOST CAN WIN AGAINST A FENTON!" then the slamming of the front door and the loud start of the GAV, or the Ghost Assault Vehicle as it is also known, leaving the driveway.

I wait a minute or two just to ensure they aren't coming back before I rush down the stairs and into the kitchen. I search the cabinets for anything I can take without it being noticeable. I end up groaning to myself in annoyance. The only things I can find are an old granola bar and a bruised apple. I would attempt to fight the food from inside the refrigerator, but I am short on time. There is only so much trouble that the Ectopi and Boxxy can make before my parents give up or capture them.

When I go down the stairs and into the lab, I immediately head towards the weapons rack. Hoping to find some type of non-lethal device. Usually, I would just stick to using a normal Fenton Thermos, but when Jazz left to go back to school, I handed it over so she could let the ghosts out. Thankfully Dad never throws things away and keeps all of the "Malfunctioning" inventions in the throwaway drawer. I found one soon enough and then moseyed on over to the currently closed Fenton Portal.

Once I flipped up the safety on the genetic lock and let it scan my thumb, the portal doors opened and encased me in the softly glowing green light of ectoplasmic radiation. The energy pouring out came straight towards me and started wrapping me up in it. The feeling is comforting, almost as if being snuggled up in a blanket or receiving a hug. Like my icy issue, this is also a new development, but not a concerning one. I tried to explain the feeling to my friends and sister, but none of them seem to understand how I feel. Since then, I have tried not to bother them too much about these types of things. I know they mean well, but sometimes the way they look at me when I tell them these kinds of things makes my core hurt.

One day after school, right before I left the building, Sidney Poindexter cornered me in a hall and tried to explain what had started happening. According to him, it was just an instinct that came with being a ghost. All ghosts, even halfas or something else in between, will feel the need to go back to the zone. The world of the living doesn't have enough ectoplasm to sustain us for long. We need ectoplasm just like humans need oxygen to breathe. It's what keeps us going.

Some ghosts end up feeding off human emotions to help sustain themselves and stay on this side for as long as they can. This is one of the reasons places like schools get attacked so much. With so many people around, a ghost can stay in one place for longer. Most ghosts feed off of darker emotions. Spectra, for example, likes to feed on depressing emotions and cause despair wherever she goes. Others may like to feed on other types of emotions like anger, happiness, or confusion. Unlike those who prefer to feed off of humans constantly, I need to get my ectoplasm from the zone; it's self. With the portal in the house and initially staying open almost continuously, I didn't feel the zone's pull. Now though, is an entirely different issue.

If I don't go in the zone periodically, I will unconsciously pull myself towards the closest portal, stable or unstable. It doesn't seem to matter to me in those moments, but the results of going in one of them could be catastrophic. I almost let myself be pulled into one without realizing it. The only reason I'm not a pile of goo in the middle of the earth is because of Clockwork dragging me away from it and into a portal of their own. According to them, it was a close call. Since then, I have tried to go in for a couple of hours every couple of weeks just because, sometimes more when I get the time to slip away. Though I still haven't figured out why it would start to affect me now when I am already stable. I am around ectoplasm a lot more than I used to be.

Shaking away my thoughts, I gaze into the swirling green pool and step into the Ghost Zone. Once my foot goes through the veil, the energy I didn't know I needed starts to flow through me, relieving some of the pain in my core.

Exiting the portal and going onto the small attached island, I can admire my surroundings. Greeting me is the swirling green atmosphere that can only be found in the zone and faraway purple doors, along with other various lairs and floating islands. I only stayed there for a small moment before taking a tentative step towards the edge of land beneath me. Without hesitation, I walk off the edge and drop off into the unknown. Instead of falling, the lack of gravity has me floating in place. I look behind me at the ledge as a lightbulb starts to go off in my head. I land back on the island and position myself on the shelf with my back facing the space. I bend my knees and propel myself towards the middle of the zone.

I position myself to float along on my back and let the ambient ectoplasm take me towards the Farfrozen. At first, the journey was incredibly peaceful, with nobody else being anywhere near me, but that didn't last for long. Once I got near the doors, it was like the start of a feeding frenzy. All types of animal ghosts took their chance to get at me. Trying to grab a piece of me to bite into and drag me off to who knows where. There is no way for me to suck all of them up into a single thermos with so many of them. My only hope is to somehow force my way through them.

I punch and kick at them, trying to get them to go away, but that only seems to make them more vicious in their attack. Then all of a sudden, I heard and felt the sharp, sudden crunch coming from my left shoulder. Without me noticing, a ghost in the shape of a bear managed to get behind me. They sunk their teeth into my shoulder, holding me in a ( kinda?) death grip. They shook its head, shaking my body all over the place. Blood and ectoplasm cascade down my chest and back, staining my now ripped clothing. With them attacking from behind, I am stuck, unable to dislodge myself from their mouth. The attack continues for a couple more moments, with other animal ghosts taking the opportunity to grab other parts of me. A cat here, and some kind of canine there, it wasn't long until I was indistinguishable from a chew toy.

All of a sudden, there was a blast of ectoplasm rushing by my head. The blast struck the bear in the head, and it immediately let me go. Soon there was another fired in my direction, along with a loud blast of energy. The energy attacks the animals and propels them off of me and tumbling into doors and each other. When one of the smaller ones came back for a second try, I attempted to set off an ectoblast of my own. However, instead of being a simple blast, it came off as a long-drawn-out beam and pelted into it. The action came with the after effect of my core feeling as if it had been pulled apart like string cheese, along with a weird feeling lingering in my hand. The hand that shot the beam started feeling like static as if it was being poked with pins and needles. The feeling didn't last long, though. It was as if the feeling was there for one moment but gone the next.

The mix of attacks sent all of the animals flying away, licking at their wounds, and me staring in a mixture of gratefulness and disbelief at my rescuers. Finally, at a nearby door floats Skulker and Ember looking just as confused at me as I am at them. "Babypop?" Ember exclaims, baffled. Rubbing at my wounds, I give her an embarrassed look before addressing them, " Hey guys, thanks for the save." The two of them, still looking confused at the situation, come closer towards me until they are just an arm's length away. " Welp," Skulker greets me, and before he can continue, Ember cuts him off " what's with the human look?" Ironically, Skulker and I both huff in tangent at her abrasive question. I ponder for a moment, wondering what I should tell them. While they both helped me out, they did it without knowing that it was me in the first place. Not to mention there is no guarantee that they won't attack if they think that I am unable to protect myself. On the other hand, though, while not exactly friends with Ember, we are still somewhat friendly to one another.

A semi-friend, maybe?

Skulker is more of an on-again, off-again frenemy, so there is no telling what he may do. In the end, I decided to go with a combination of the truth and a partial omission. Looking around before answering just to double-check for any eavesdroppers before leaning over towards Skulker, " You remember the ice thing from a couple of days ago?" He nods, " Yeah, but what does that have to do with this?" he asks, gesturing to me. I obvert my eyes as I admit, " It stayed," cocking his head to the side in confusion, I decided to elaborate, " I went late in the afternoon back over there, and it was just like how it was that morning." His eyes widened in understanding, " It didn't melt?" he asks astounded, " not even a little bit?" Getting up with a groan, I confirm, " not a single crystal of it." Looking gobsmacked, he places a hand on his chin muttering to himself while Ember looks between us, confused. Finally, getting sick of our conversation, she pries us, " What are you two going on about? What Ice? What's happening?"

Skulker waves her off, telling her, "it's a bro code thing, babe," while she sulks and turns away. She heads back to her door, but before she goes in, she calls out to us, " take your bromance somewhere else" turning to look at Skulker, she adds, "I'll see later," and with a wink, she is gone. He turns back to me with his arms crossed and prods some more, " and what does it have to do with the looking human thing?" Running my hand through my hair, I admit, " when I went back, I was able to get rid of it, but it messed me up. I can't do the "be a ghost" thing until I figure out what exactly I messed up."

Squinting his eyes at me, he questions, " and you are here to do what exactly?" I rub my eyes in annoyance and can't help but think that this is why he is stuck taking orders from Vlad; does he ever think for himself? Not having the guts to say so to his face, I reply with, " To get to the Farfrozen, of course." He hums in understanding before coming closer, grabbing me by the waist and throwing me over the shoulder. The impact came with throbbing pain. The bites of the animals had yet to heal, and the rough impact and chilled feeling of Skulkers isn't helping. " W-what are you doing!" I shout in shock, "let me go!" I continue to yell as I try to release myself. My moving about only made my discomfort increase and cause bodily fluids to drip onto him. " Would you stop all the squirming" he growls, " I'm just giving you a bit of a lift"

" A lift?" I interrogate, letting some skepticism slip into my voice. Finally, he makes a noise of agreement before rushing off towards the Farfrozen. We continue for a while before he slows his pace and eventually stops and heads towards a floating island. Then, letting me down, he announces, " this is where I leave you." I started to thank him, but right before, I couldn't help but notice where we stopped. " You're going to leave me here?!" I say accusingly, " Right in front of Walker's prison!"

" What is he more likely to notice? The both of us speeding past or one a welp crawling on by? I may want my prey in top condition for a hunt," he says, staring at me, " but I'm not willing to put myself in his path to get that. Getting past here is something you have to do on your own. Be thankful I took you this far in the first place." Feeling rightfully chastised, a sense of guilt starts to set in. After all, he didn't have to help me. He chose to. "I'm sorry," I say, trying to apologize for my behavior, but he dismisses my words, " Just try not to get caught welp. Once you're better, the fight for your pelt can resume." With a crooked smile, he flies off back towards his own lair and out of danger.

As soon as Skulker left my sight, I rushed off towards a large rock and took cover. With Walker and his goons being as slimy as they are, there is no telling if they will show up. Thankfully the island Skulker left me at is full of trees with heavy foliage, rocks, and other large objects. So there are plenty of places to hide behind. I start to hesitate right before I enter an open area. Good thing, too, because just as I was about to go across, a few of the prison guards were flying by checking the area. That was a close one ' come on, Danny, stop chickening out,' I tell myself. The safest way is just to act as if you are walking across the street: stop, look both ways, and rush across to safety.

INTERMISSION (Kids take note: it is unsafe to go across streets on your own. Please make sure to take a grown-up with you. Don't be reckless like Danny)

From the get-go getting from place to place was a nightmare, having to look over my shoulder constantly. The longer I wait in one place, the more paranoid I become. Some of the bite marks have already started to heal, but some of the more severe ones, like the shoulder, continue to bleed. If I'm not careful, I could leave a blood trail and lead Walker and his goons right to me.

When going from place to place, I stay on the tips of my toes, hoping to cause the least amount of noise possible. I go from a tree, to rock, to a bush, and then whatever else I can fit behind. At the moment, I am behind what looks to be a pile of old sheet metal. How it got here is anyone's clue. I look all around and listen for anyone nearby. Once I conclude that the area is clear, I hurriedly tip-toe across to a push while muttering, ' I'm an interdimensional super-spy, SUPER SPY' and continue on my way. I do so repeatedly as I go from place to place.

I got near the end of the island and was almost out of sight of the prison when I heard it. The whispering of orders coming not far behind me. I check over my shoulder, and hidden in the background were lingering figures in police uniforms doing a horrible job of blending in. They really need to take some tips from the ghost chameleons. I book it across the rest of the island, not even attempting to hide anymore. I'm about three-quarters of the way across when I hear one of the goons telling the others that I'm getting away. I end up uncontrollably laughing as I make my way to the other side as I recite in a singsong voice, " I'm an interdimensional super spy. SUPER SPY!" Unfortunately for them, they don't even get the chance to catch up. By the time they end up by the edge, I am already out in the open and outside of their lairs' area of control. All they can do is float there and watch as I fly away.

#danny phantom #jazz fenton #skulker #ember mclain #sidney poindexter #animal ghost #ghost core #specta #ectoplasm #portal #fanfiction #fanfic

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terrm9 · 4 years

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In My Veins (Ethan Ramsey X MC)

The final chapter of Already Gone series is here! Thank you for everyone who decided to give the series a shot, thank you for all your likes and comments and reblogs! I have two one shot sequels planned already and then bunch of random one shots abour Ethan and Chiara, which might ot might not correspond with Already Gone storyline - but that’s not relevant now. Enjoy the chapter!

I honestly think this can be easily read even without reading previous chapters.

Words count: 3 800

Warnings: slightest hint of angst, but mostly this is just fluff

——– IN MY VEINS ——

Chiara’s day has been downright frustrating so far. She was dealing with two patients – one of them being an absolute pain in the ass and the other, on the other hand, sweet fourteen years old which she had troubles diagnosing – and besides that, Ethan has been to New York for three days and she missed his reassuring smiles while walking down the corridors.

Just get through today and you’ll be fine. He will be back by the evening and you will see him tomorrow morning.

She was tired and angry with the PITA and also angry with herself for not being able to diagnose Leah.

All of those draining emotions and thoughts made her curse under her breath when she was paged by the nurses’ station, which didn’t go unnoticed by Sienna and Jackie which were walking by at the moment.

“Uh-oh, Dr. Ray, such nasty word coming from such pretty mouth?”

“Shut up Sienna or she will find a brand new nasty word for you” Jackie stopped her, grinning. “What made you so irritated, Chiara?”

Chiara sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose as she kept walking to the nurses’ station.

“The day has literally just began and I already feel like punching something. Or someone.”

“You resemble Ramsey too much Chiara,” Jackie chuckled. “You are even grumpier than Zaid today.”

At that, Chiara had to laugh and as she finally approached the station, she felt at least a little bit lighter.

“I’ve been paged,” she said to Danny, noticing that the station was unusually full this morning, crowded with fellow resident, interns and even few attendings.

“Yeah, this came for you. The courier just dropped it off,” he smiled as he reached for a bouquet behind the counter.

Chiara’s mouth fell wide open at the sigh of huge bouquet full of sunflowers. The air was filled with ‘oooh’s’ and ‘wooow’s’ coming from mouths of women around Chiara and there was also one ‘hmm someone’s getting laid tonight’ coming from a surgeon resident Chiara didn’t really know.

“What does the note say?” Sienna couldn’t help but ask curiously, glancing over Chiara’s shoulder.

Cheeks flushed in bright red color, Chiara opened the note with the trembling hands.

‘Vincent Van Gogh once said that he finds comfort in contemplating the sunflowers. I find comfort in contemplating you’ -J

She smiled to herself, knowing very well who the flowers came from – there was only one person knowing about her obsession with Van Gogh, just as there was only one person to sign the note with ‘J’.

Her spirits were immediately lifted, however the hot blush on her cheeks and her neck didn’t seem to be disappearing.

“Do you know who sent them?” Stephanie asked from behind the desk.

“Chiara you never told us you had a boyfriend!” Danny exclaimed brightly.

“Right, Chiara, you never told us! Who could that be?” Jackie grinned, making Chiara blush even deeper, if that was even possible.

She kept staring down at the flowers in her hands, trying to neglect the excited whispers suddenly surrounding her.

How was the whole nurses’ station talking about her secret boyfriend all at once?

“What is going on in here?” The deep voice she knew so well cut through the vibrant buzz.

Chiara’s head snapped to the direction of the voice and it took her all her acting abilities to pretend to be simply surprised and nothing else. Not happy, not excited, just surprised.

Like a deer in a spotlight, she froze on the spot and with wide eyes kept searching the familiar and oh so handsome face she missed so much.

His blue eyes found her face in the middle of the crowd and for the moment so brief she almost missed it, his stare softened the way it always did just for her and there was the tiniest hint of radiant sparks she adored so much. Before anyone else could notice the affectionate exchange of their stares, Ethan’s gaze hardened and he cleared his throat.

“Dr. Ramsey! We didn’t expect to see you until tomorrow,” Stephanie smiled brightly at him.

“My job in New York was done earlier than expected,” he shrugged, oblivious to Stephanie’s attempt of flirting. “I asked what is going on in here?”

“Dr. Ray got this splendid bouquet from a secret admirer,” Sienna smiled all too knowingly at Ethan, which – far better at acting than Chiara – simply raised an eyebrow.

“Congratulations,” he replied dryly. “However the last time I checked this was a hospital, not a high-school corridor. Now quit the gossiping and get back to work.”

Chiara noticed some doctors to roll their eyes and heard one of the nurses to whisper: “And everything is back to normal now.”

She chuckled and turned around to put the flowers into the locker room, entirely aware of the fact that she would be paged into the diagnostics office within the next few minutes.

“You have really outdone yourself with the grand arrival, Dr. Ramsey,” Chiara grinned as she stepped into his office and made sure that they were alone. “How much calculating needed to be done in spite of pulling this trick?”

“Believe it or not, Rookie, it was an absolute coincidence. I have had the flowers delivery arranged even before I left to New York and I didn’t think that I would be able to come back earlier until this morning. But it indeed worked out to my satisfaction,” he laughed softly, standing up from the chair behind this desk. Quickly checking the corridor behind the glass door, he wrapped Chiara in his arms and lightly kissed the top of her head.

“Thank you for the flowers. I would never believe that you are such a romantic soul.”

As they found their way to the grey couch in the corner of the room, Ethan replied with his brows furrowed: “I prefer ‘gentleman’ over ‘romantic soul’, but whatever serves you is okay by me, I suppose.”

“Gentleman, huh?”

“Ever since I was a little kid, my father was very insisting on raising me into polite gentleman. Saying thank you, please, greeting others, that was necessary part of my childhood. And then when I got older, he has taught me everything about being a true gentleman – opening the door, kissing the back of woman’s hand when she introduced herself, bringing flowers, all those things were a natural part of growing up for me.”

“You never kissed the back of my hand when I introduced myself.”

“First, your hands were covered in blood when we introduced ourselves, if I remember it correctly. And second, I don’t do those things anymore. After several experiences when my gentleman behavior has been misread as flirting, I stopped performing it. Unless I am interested in actual flirting with the woman, of course.”

“So you are saying that you want to flirt with me?” Chiara asked with a teasing smirk on her face.

Amused, Ethan simply shook his head and as he was about to ask her if she would like some coffee, her pager’s loud beep broke the comfortable silence surrounding them.

“Oh, Leah’s results. I’ll go pick them up and I’ll be right back, I might need your opinion on this case.”

Without a second glance, she left the room. Ethan stretched his legs and rubbed his tired eyes, cursing himself for going to the hospital straight from the airport when he could be sleeping in his bed now.

But again, Chiara was at the hospital, so how could he be anywhere else?

She brought him much more comfort than his bed could ever provide, anyway.

Not wanting to waste his time, he got back to the chair and started to catch up with all the paperwork that has been loyally waiting on the desk for his return.

He got so consumed by the work that he hardly noticed Chiara’s arrival, if it wasn’t for her furious murmuring as she flipped through the pages of her patient’s file.

“There must be something missing… white cells normal… what am I not seeing… negative, negative, negative, urgh, FUCK ME!” she threw her head back as she all but shouted those last two words.

“Happily,” Ethan replied without missing a beat, now even glancing up from his paperwork. “Although I am afraid that now and here is not the right time nor the place.”

“Seriously, Ramsey?” she turned to him, fire burning in her eyes, her cheeks flushed – was it flush of frustration or the one of lust? “Now you are joking?”

“I am sorry but passing such opportunity would be a sin,” he grinned at her and waved at the file in her hand, gesturing for her to come closer. “Show me what got you so heated.”

Several days later, Chiara and Ethan were walking by the river, enjoying one of those few precious moments when they have both had their day off.

The April weather has been rather nice this year, however the water in the Charles River was still so cold that Ethan couldn’t help but mutter “those crazy idiots” every time he noticed someone in it.

Finding the spot where they could talk hidden from the curious eyes of others, they sat down and for a long moment stared at the sparkles the sun was creating at the water surface.

“I am happy, Chiara. I am happy with you,” Ethan broke the silence and wrapped his arm around Chiara’s waist, pulling her closer to him.

She nodded and smiled gently at his words without saying anything, knowing that Ethan didn’t expect her to say it back.

From time to time, he felt the urge to express how he felt at the moment and all Chiara needed to do was to listen and acknowledge his feelings. He already knew she was happy with him, because unlike him, Chiara has never had problems with expressing how she felt.

After long minutes spent in comfortable, peaceful, pleasant silence, Chiara stood up and grabbing her purse, she said: “I noticed the truck serving coffee just around here, I’ll grab us some, okay?”

“Sure. I’ll be right here.”

As he promised, Ethan didn’t even move from the place they found, waiting for Chiara to return.

However, after more than forty minutes, he became rather worried about her. It was only after he heard the sirens when he grabbed everything from the ground and decided to find her, his steps quicker than they would normally be.

The ambulance was parked near the river and he noticed paramedics examining a little boy, his mother crying next to him. And behind them, Chiara sitting in the ambulance, wrapped in the blanket.

With his breath quicker, his vision blurred and hands trembling, he ran those last few meters.

“What the fuck, Rookie?” he called as he approached her. “What happened?”

“I was about to order when I heard a woman’s scream and when I turned around, I noticed a little kid in the river,” she explained, her lower lip trembling from the cold. “I jumped into the water and pulled him out.”

“Are you crazy? You could’ve drown!”

As she opened her mouth to fight him, he was sure, the paramedic interrupted them, checking Chiara’s pressure again.

“It seems to be okay, miss, but we should still take you to the hospital. Just to be sure you will be completely okay.”

“I said I am fine, thank you. Just focus on the boy.”

“We really should take you.”

“I am a doctor at Edenbrook,” Ethan stepped in. “I will take her there and examine her.”

“I am sorry but who are you, sir? Do you know him, Ms. Ray?”

“Yeah, he is my…uh…well, we are-“

“I am her boyfriend and I am taking her to Edenbrook now. Just take care of the kid,” Ethan said with the tone that left no room for further discussion.

He grabbed Chiara’s hand, not caring about anyone seeing them and pulled her towards his building, thankful that it was so close to the park. Without giving her a chance to tell or do anything, he went straight to the parking garage of the building and into his car.

“You could’ve just checked me at your place,” Chiara shrugged as Ethan switched the engine on.

“I’ll examine you at the hospital,” Ethan replied without as much as glancing at her, his voice cold as ice.

“My boyfriend, yeah?” she smiled, hoping that it would break the tension between them.

“It’s not the right time for teasing, Chiara. What were you even thinking? You could’ve both died!”

“But we didn’t. I can swim, Ethan, I really can. Someone had to help the poor kid.”

“Yes, exactly, someone! Not you. Anyone else could have done that.”

Chiara sighed, wrapping herself tighter into the blanket, the wet, cold clothes causing her to shiver.

Ethan wanted to yell at her, to continue his monologue about how dangerous that was and irresponsible and that there was no need to pull such Aveiro stunts, but noticing how much she kept shivering, all he brought himself to do was switch the heating on.

As they parked outside the hospital, he asked: “Do you have some spare clothes in the locker?”

Chiara nodded, already getting out of the car and he told her to come to his office once she is in dry and warm clothes.

Ethan was pacing through his office when she entered, trying to scatter his anger and fear by some physical activity, which proved to be absolutely worthless when he glanced at her and saw the stubborn expression on her face.

“You acted absolutely recklessly, Chiara.”

“I couldn’t let the four year old kid drown.”

“There were other people!”

“Well, nobody else jumped into the water, so I guess it had to be me. I am absolutely fine, Ethan. This is unnecessary.”

“I will be the one to evaluate if you are or are not fine.”

Letting his emotions go for a while, so that he could do his job, he once again checked Chiara’s pressure, listened to her breathing, measured her temperature and only after he made sure that she, indeed, was absolutely fine, he let out a long breath of relief.

“You will stay at my place tonight, in case something goes wrong. I need to check on you.”

“I would stay with you tonight anyway, Dr. Ramsey. No need to cause such drama for something as stupid as me getting into the cold water.”

“Damnit Chiara,” he muttered but decided not to cause another scene at the hospital ground.

Without saying another word, they both left the office, not giving a damn about their colleagues that wondered why would they both be at work on their day off.

The car ride back to Ethan’s place was quiet and tense and so were the minutes that followed after they’ve gotten into the apartment.

Not wanting to ruin the rest of their day, Chiara approached Ethan – who has been pacing around his living room now – and said: “Okay, Ethan. I think you are overreacting, but still – I am sorry I got you worried today.”

“Worried? Worried? I was scared! When I saw you in the ambulance, I was scared to death, Chiara!”

His voice was raising, which only sparked more flames in Chiara’s eyes. She didn’t want to fight with him, but she would not let anyone shout at her, not even Ethan Ramsey.

“Okay, you really need to calm down-“

“No. No, no, no,” he interrupted her, his voice rising once again. “You don’t get to tell me to calm down, Chiara. Because it was not me in a car accident, it was you. It was not me lying on the operating table, it was you. But it was me who stared at the door to the O.R. for hours and hours, waiting for Emery to come out and tell me that you are dead. It was me who spent 40 hours sitting next to you after the surgery, afraid of closing my eyes for even a second because I believed that you would die and I would have my eyes closed at the moment! It was me who held your hand while you were in come, not the other way around. I was the one calling your mother to tell her that she should fly to Boston because you might not survive this, not you calling my father. You were never close to losing me, Chiara, you have no idea how it feels to look at your motionless body, at your closed eyes and believing that I would never see you moving again! So no, I am sorry but it’s not your place to tell me to calm down, Chiara Ray, because every time you don’t pick up your phone for a longer while, every time you leave the town with your friends, every time you attend a party or a concert now, every single time my chest literally hurts of fear. I am so fucking scared every time we are not together, because when we are not together, I can’t save you and I wouldn’t get through losing you.”

He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down like Chiara asked him to, but the lump in his throat was too big and the anger mixed with dread made him shout even more.

"I can’t lose you, Chiara, don’t you fucking get it? I can’t live this life without you in it, because I care about you, because I need you, because goddamnit I love you and-“

He stopped abruptly, realizing what he had just said.

The silence that filled the room was heavier than all the shouts before.

Chiara and Ethan stared at each other, their eyes wide, expression shocked, Ethan’s hands trembling by his sides.

“What has just happened?” Chiara whispered at last.

“I don’t… I mean, I never… That was absolutely unintentional,” Ethan breathed out at last.

He fell on the couch behind him and with grave feeling in her chest, Chiara followed and sat down next to him.

“So you didn’t mean it? What you said?”

Ethan’s shocked expression turned into something more than just shock at that question, something resembling guilt and pain.

“No. I mean, yes, I did mean it. But meaning it and expressing it – no, saying it – are two absolutely different things.”

Chiara softly reached for his hand and a wave of relief washed over her when he interlaced their fingers together and squeezed her hand back.

“Do you remember the last time you said those words?” she asked quietly.

“I do. Very well, actually,” he let out a humorless laugh and to Chiara’s surprise decided to tell her.

“One day, I was eleven, I came home from school and my mother was home, which was surprising because usually she would come home in the evening. She hugged me as I stepped in and asked me if I needed any help with my homework. The truth was that I never really needed their help with homework, but if there is one thing I have to admit about my mother, it was the fact that she was – maybe still is – an algebra genius. Real genius, I mean. And ever since I can remember, I have always loved to watch her talk about it or explain something to me, because it would bring those beautiful sparkles into her eyes. You know, those that people only have when they talk about their deepest passions. And so I told her that I actually did need help with algebra and for the next hour, I would just observe her eyes, because they were so full of light. And after we were done with it, she asked me if I would like an ice cream and I was so happy to spend some time with her that I agreed, even though I never really liked ice cream. So we went to get the ice cream and she would tell me all the algebra jokes and we would laugh so hard the tears kept streaming down our faces. On our walk back home, I told her ‘I love you so much, mum’ and she said ‘and I love you, my little E.J., more than you could ever imagine’.”

He tried to subtly hide his face, but Chiara noticed the tears streaming down his cheeks and with all the gentleness she could find, she wiped them away.

Ethan cleared his throat to finish the story.

“The next day, she left us. And for months, maybe even years after that, I kept asking myself if she decided to spend all that time with me because she knew that she would leave us? Or maybe she wanted to spend some time with me to help herself decide if she wanted to stay with us or leave – and it that case, what should I have done better to make her believe that she wanted to stay? Or was the ‘I love you’ too much for her to hear and it scared her so much that she’d rather leave? I never found the answers. But I swore to myself back then that I would never say those words again.”

“And you never did? To anyone? Your dad, Naveen, anyone?” Chiara whispered.

Ethan simply shook his head and pulled her into his lap, wrapping his arms around her more tightly than he ever did.

“Please, tell me you won’t leave me tomorrow, Chiara,” he whispered into her hair.

“I promise I won’t leave you, Ethan.”

They hugged each other, letting their tears stream down their faces, Ethan’s into Chiara’s hair and Chiara’s into Ethan’s shirt.

At the moment, their hearts were shattered and at the same time, they were being healed.

“So you do?” Chiara asked with a light smile after a while. “You know, uhm…you do the L word me?”

“I do love you, Chiara, yes,” he chuckled at her uncertainty of using the word love. “And you? Do you ‘the L word’ me?”

“Of course I love you. I have already told you once.”

He kissed her at those words, pouring all his broken and freshly healed heart into the kiss, brushing her lips with his with such care, such softness it made her feel like if it was the first time they kissed.

“But you don’t get to scare me like this anymore, Rookie. I could’ve gone into cardiac arrest,” he said as they parted.

“You are not that old.”

“Young people can go into cardiac arrests too and I am sure that as a doctor, you know that. Promise me you won’t do anything this stupid.”

“I can promise you to try to avoid such situations, but nothing more,” she shrugged. “However, I can also promise you that you can punish me anyhow you want if I do something stupid,” she added, devilish smirk on her face.

Ethan’s eyes darkened immediately and his breath hitched in his throat before muttering into her ear: “Oh, is that so? Maybe I should start right now then.”

taglist: @maurine07 @takemyopenheart @senseofduties @mercury84choices @flightlessbirdiee (I am tagging you guys even though this is part of a series, I hope you don’t mind!)

If you would like to be added to or removed from the taglist, just let me know please. Thank you.

#open heart #open heart choices #open heart fanfiction #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #pixelberry #play choices #fluff

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rainbowshawn · 4 years

Text

Nights With You

A/N: wanted to get something up before I got super busy this week, sorry it’s not the best!! (pls don’t roast my title I couldn’t come up with anything lmao)

Summary: Shawn hasn’t slept in weeks and you decide a massage is just what he needs to relax.

Warnings: some mentions of insomnia/anxiety, soft shawn and disgustingly sweet fluff

The past few weeks have been miserable for not only Shawn but you too. He had been having a terrible time sleeping, resulting in a shift in his personality. Shawn was never one to be grumpy, uninspired, or lazy. Not until the past few weeks, at least. He had become cold and distant; as if he had nothing to say anymore.

You’d frequently wake up in the middle of the night to find him scrolling through his phone aimlessly. Some nights if he was lucky enough, he’d actually fall asleep. The downside was that on these nights, he’d just wake up in the middle of the night. Naps had proven pointless, being that he’s a light sleeper and can’t seem to find much peace and quiet during the day while you get things done around the house. He felt hopeless, aching for just one good night's sleep.

Your heart ached for him as you watched his lively eyes become dull with exhaustion. You aren’t sure where this has come from but you just want the old Shawn back. The loving, happy-go-lucky, sweetheart of a man you’d grown to love so dearly. Your worry only grows when his appetite becomes none existent. You watch as he picks at the food on his plate as he leans his head into the hand that was propped up on the table.

“Bubba,” you inquire, “why aren’t you eating?”

“M’not hungry,” he mumbles, absentmindedly.

You frown, reaching your hand across the table to grab onto his.

“Now why’s that? You haven’t eaten all day, honey.”

“Mhm,” he insists, “I had a granola bar this morning.”

“Shawn, it’s 8 at night,” you furrow your brows, unsure of how he doesn’t see the problem with that. He avoids your gaze and goes back to poking at his food with his fork. He shrugs his shoulders, making you sigh.

“Do you want me to make you something else?” you ask, hoping you could at least get something in his stomach.

He shakes his head, frowning a bit. You sigh, shifting to stand up and walk over to his side of the table. You slot your arms around his frame, nuzzling your face into his neck as you press gentle kisses against his skin. You press your lips against him, blowing harsh air blow raspberries into his skin. Usually, this trick worked like a charm and you expect to see a smile across his face and have his giggles rumble out of his chest. To your dismay, his demeanor doesn’t change in the slightest. You pull away and take in his blank stare. The only sign of life in his tired eyes comes from his slow blinks as he stares at his plate.

“How can I help you, duckie?” you whisper, pulling out your favorite nickname for him. You smile as you recall the morning you first called him that. It was after the first night you spent with him and you couldn’t contain your giggles as you looked at his fluffy morning hair. His curls stuck out in every possible direction and he blushed under your amused gaze as you compared him to a baby duck with fuzzy hair. The unique nickname stuck ever since.

He shrugs his shoulders, slightly shifting you in the process. You squeeze his tense figure and press more kisses into his rosy cheeks. You sigh at his response, unsure of how to help him yourself. You remain bent over and keep one arm wrapped around him as your other hand moves up to start running through his hair.

“Let me help you relax, my love,” you whisper. His demeanor softens a bit as your hand lightly trails through his hair. He leans back into your shoulder a bit and you shift to look at him. He finally meets your gaze and your heart aches at the sight of his exhausted face looking up at you so hopelessly.

You sigh and press a kiss to his forehead, “what am I gonna do with you?”

You decide to grab his plate, taking it to the counter and packing it up to put it in the fridge for later. You grab your plate as well, tossing it in the dishwasher before making your way back over to him. You extend your hand out, prompting him to follow you. He gladly accepts, slowly rising to his feet. He follows you as you lead him up to your shared room, making sure to switch the lights off as you walk through the house.

You make your way into the quiet room and lead him to the bed where you push him to sit, “Stay here.”

He doesn’t make any attempt to put up a fight as he sleepily watches you move around the room. You flick the rock salt lamp on the nightstand on, filling the room with a soft orange glow. You flick the overhead lights off, dimming the environment even more. After getting that situated, you grab your phone up and make sure it’s hooked up to the speaker before picking out a soothing, quiet playlist. Instrumental ambiance fills the room and Shawn watches you saunter into the bathroom.

You sift through the shelves in the closet, looking for the bottle of oil you two usually reserved for ‘special’ nights. You figure now is a good time as any to break it out. You grab the bottle up and make your way back into the room. Shawn’s eyes squint as you set the bottle down on the nightstand next to him. You move and snag a lighter, putting his favorite candle on. You make your way back to the bed and start taking off your jeans and instructing him to take his shirt off.

“I’m not really in the mood, dear, I’m so tired” he starts, placing his hands on your hips and staring at you with sympathetic eyes.

“No, no it’s not that, babe.” you insist, tugging at the hem of his shirt. He blinks and decides to just do what you ask, trusting you completely. Once his shirt hits the floor you have him take his pants off as well.

“Okay, now lay on your stomach for me,” you murmur and he follows easily. You watch his form as he shifts to get comfortable before you crawl up the bed, straddling his thighs. You rest yourself on top of him, “Comfy, babe?”

“Mhm,” he hums, still unsure of what you were doing.

“Gonna rub your back for a little bit,” you explain, starting to pour some oil into your hands. He hums in contentment underneath you and his hum only grows louder once he feels your slick hands press into his lower back. You lean gently into your hands and start to glide them up his back slowly.

“Take some deep breaths,” you whisper, maintaining a quiet environment for the sleepy boy beneath you. He does as instructed and you feel his back pop a few times when he exhales as you push along his spine. You frown as you realize just how tense he must be.

“Don’t like seeing you like this, bub,” you hum as you work his tired muscles. He only grunts in response, too exhausted to even speak.

Your hands glide easily over his skin and you smile as you feel him sigh slightly underneath you. Warmth spreads up his back as you press against his aching muscles and he feels nothing but gratitude and love for you in this moment. He knows he’s been an asshole and he’s surprised you’d even do such a sweet thing for him. He appreciates your efforts more than you know.

“Feel good?” you ask quietly, rubbing circles into his shoulder blades with your thumbs.

“Mhm.” he nods slowly with his face squishing into his pillow. His cheeks are even rosier than before, signaling how tired he’s getting. You slowly trail up and down his back, stopping to pay extra attention to the spots you know he gets tense in. Your hands loop around where his shoulders and neck meet and rub firmly. He moans softly as he feels the tension melt into your hands. He swears you’re magic.

You want to ask if something is bothering him but you decide to just leave it for now; he’s just so relaxed. This is the first time you’ve seen him like this in weeks. You lean over, moving your hands to his lower back, and press kisses between his collarbones. He sighs at the feeling and you feel him twitch slightly. The feeling of your hands gliding across his bare skin sends shivers down his spine and he fully embraces your affection.

Your hands move to his sides, rubbing his waist before sliding up to his ribs. He giggles lightly as you ghost over his ticklish spots so you shift to his arms instead. You press your fingers into his biceps and back up to his shoulders. You take notice of the shift in his breathing; now slower and deeper than once before. You can tell his slowly approaching the brink of the blissful sleep he so desperately needs.

You think he’s just about to be there before his raspy voice breaks through the quiet atmosphere, “Honey?”

Your eyes flicker to him, “Hm?”

“Can you hold me?” he murmurs quietly, almost sounding ashamed to ask, “Just for a little bit?”

Your eyes soften and you have to stop yourself from aww’ing at his bashful demeanor.

“Of course, sweetheart” you assure, shifting to move off his back, “Just let me wipe this oil off, okay?”

He nods again, not moving from his position on the bed. You hobble to the bathroom and snag a clean towel off the rack before making your way back to the bed. You crawl to his side before swiping the towel gently across his skin, clearing it of the oil as best as you can. His face is still pressed into his pillow but his soft eyes watch you in wonder.

“Do you want your shirt back on?” you ask, already knowing that he probably didn’t. He shakes his head confirming your suspicion. You tap his thigh, signaling for him to move over as you adjust the blankets. He reluctantly moves, knowing he’s about to snuggle up to his dream girl.

You clamber into the bed, plopping down onto your back and tugging the blankets over your bodies before you open your arms up to him. He gladly shifts over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. You feel his warm breath brush across your skin as he sighs in content.

“Thank you, lovey,” he mumbles, “I really needed that.”

“I know,” you respond, beginning to twirl his chocolate curls between your fingertips, “I hate seeing you like this.”

He frowns, feeling guilty for making you worry so much.

“M’just kind of stressed I think,” he starts, finally beginning to open up to you.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm. I can't sleep when I get anxious like this and I think not sleeping makes it even worse.”

Your heart sinks at his admittance, “Why didn’t you tell me, honey?”

He shrugs lazily, “I just don’t want to worry you.”

You squeeze his body a bit, feeling tears prick at your eyes. He sniffles a bit, making you aware that he’s crying a bit too.

“Honeeeey,” you whine, pressing kisses to his warm forehead, “I worry more when I don’t know what’s going on with you. I just want to make you feel better.”

He nods and you feel a wet droplet from his honeypot eyes slide down your neck. He sniffles again and your free hand makes its way to rub his back while the other plays with his hair. You know both of these things are incredibly soothing to Shawn and all you want is for him to feel comforted.

“Shhh, don’t cry baby,” you whisper, “I got you.”

“M’just so tired,” he whimpers into your neck, nuzzling impossibly closer to you.

“I know, baby. I’m gonna help you relax, okay?” you whisper soothingly as you trail your nails up and down his back softly. Shawn nods and pulls away from your neck, shifting to look at you.

His lazy eye is more prominent than usual as a result of his exhaustion and he looks even more like a puppy than ever before. Your fingers move to wipe the stray tears from his rosy cheeks and he lowers his face to kiss your lips.

“Thank you for loving me when I’m like this,” he murmurs, laying his head back down. “You always make it better.”

You sigh, “I'll always do what I can to make it better. I promise.”

He smiles into your skin, finally beginning to feel at ease in your arms. You are his home. His safe space and his escape. You are his shelter from the storm and his own personal heaven all at once. He was forever in disbelief that he was blessed with your company. With your love. He would never take it for granted.

"Thank you for the massage," he murmurs, "I promise I'll return the favor soon."

You giggle in response and fall into a comfortable silence as you play with his hair.

“I love you,” he whispers, “so much.”

You smile because you know. He always made sure you knew.

“Gonna give me goodnight kisses?” he asks you after a few moments of blissful silence.

“Hmm... let me think about it,” you tease, giggling as he scrunches his nose up.

You turn your head, looking at his face that was rested on his pillow before your lips meet in a passionate kiss. His tired lips mesh against yours, wordlessly expressing his love. His palm ghosts up and down your waist and your fingers thread into the curls at the nape of his neck. His tongue slips into your mouth and yours plays with his. You hum against his lips, enjoying the first real kiss you’ve shared in what feels like forever.

After a while, his lips begin to slow against yours. The kiss progressively becomes lazy until the soft boy in your arms falls asleep. Tiny snores leave his lips and you smile at the sight of him finally getting the sleep he deserves. You press one last kiss for the night against his forehead before whispering to him,

“Goodnight, duckie.”

#shawn mendes imagine #Shawn Mendes blurb #shawn mendes fic #Shawn Mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes x you #shawn mendes x y/n

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imjustalonesomewriteblr · 3 years

Text

Chapter One

Word Count: 1,936

Warnings: Maybe mild language (I forget), tiny bit of violence (it isn’t described besides a bruise/mark and hinting), government people and maybe some politics (?).

Alright, this one’s three and a half weeks behind schedule, but who cares. It’s done now. So far the only criticism I’ve gotten on this one is that the dialogue in the beginning is too long and the ending is too short, so I’ll try to fix that next time. :)

Léonie enjoyed listening to Florette whistle in the morning. It was a nice, peaceful way to wake up, especially because the alternative would be a loud alarm. Today, even though it was summer, Florette was whistling a Christmas song, but Léonie didn’t mind. It still made her happy.

The room’s large windows gave the two of them a wonderful view of the lake. That was the one good thing about waking so early in the morning: everything was calm and quiet. The dim light from the moon lit the room more than their weak ceiling light ever could. A few birds sang and flew past the window.

“Good morning, Florette,” Léonie turned over and looked down from her top bunk. Florette was stretching on the floor, as she had done every morning for almost three years.

“Mornin’,” she replied.

“How did you sleep?”

“Not as well as I could’ve.”

“That is too bad,” Léonie laid on her back and looked to the ceiling. She hardly had any wall space next to her bunk, so she had resorted to decorating the ceiling.

Ms. LaPore had only allowed the volunteers to take objects home from their missions that could fit in a tiny plastic bag. This resulted in the volunteers having an unusual amount of posters and short books and not clothes or larger objects. Léonie’s ceiling was mostly covered by old movie posters and magazine covers, plus several postcards.

“We’ve gotta hurry up,” Florette tied her shoelaces, “The meeting’s early.”

“I am aware,” Léonie scooted to the end of her bed and jumped down, “Did you read over your folder?”

“Nope. I’ll do that during breakfast,” Florette said. Léonie sighed.

Léonie walked over to her dresser and pulled out her uniform: a grey shirt, black pants, and simple white shoes. She had been instructed to wear her name badge this time, so she pinned it on her shirt.

“Why don’t you wear a dress or something,” Florette was sitting on the lower bunk now, watching a deer walk in front of the window.

“I am not supposed to.” It was only then Léonie realized Florette was not completely in uniform. She was wearing a dark green flannel over her shirt and her socks were pink. Florette’s hair was in two buns, which was against Assembly policies.

“Take those off, Florette,” Léonie put her own white socks on, “and change your hair.”

“I’m going to wear my hair however I want.”

“You will be in trouble.”

“I wasn’t last time.”

“Last time, Mr. Steinberg interrupted Ms. LaPore as she was trying to discipline you. That was simply luck,” Léonie put her final shoe on and began making her bed before it was time for breakfast.

“Whatever,” Florette mumbled, laying on her back, “I don’t care.”

Léonie shook her head and sat down on the rocking chair next to the window. She picked up the book she was currently reading and opened it to the page she had bookmarked. Léonie had read Aesop’s Fables innumerous times now, but it was one of the only books she had and she didn’t want to bother Mr. Johnson for any new ones.

Within five minutes of Léonie sitting down, there was a knock on their door. Florette opened it, revealing Reese on the other side.

“Breakfast’s ready,” she said, “I wouldn’t get too excited about it, though.”

“What is it?” Florette asked.

“Water and toast. There isn’t any butter or jam, either,” Reese said.

Florette groaned and walked past Reese.

“At least it is something,” Léonie said as she exited the room. Reese shut the door behind them.

Breakfast was held in the kitchen of the main house. The main house, which was owned by Mr. Steinberg, was a large, brick building from the early 1900s. It had seven bedrooms, all of which were converted to offices, a large basement, and multiple repurposed living rooms. It also had a nice conservatory, which Mr. Steinberg and, occasionally, Danilo spent time in. The main house and the volunteer’s guesthouse were separated by a large yard, forested area, and pool.

Danilo met the tree of them in the hallways and, together, they grabbed their folders and began walking to breakfast.

“How did you sleep?” Léonie asked.

“Fine.”

“Bene.”

“That’s good.” Léonie said.

The smell of fresh grass wafted past them. The yard had been cut recently, probably for the officials who were visiting. A pool boy was taking the leaves that had fallen out of the pool and another was cleaning the stone.

As the volunteers neared the house, they could see a large group of men in suits and women in nice dresses crowded in the conservatory. Others were viewable through the windows and glass door.

“What the crap is going on here?” Florette said.

“Did you not read the stuff in your folder?” Reese asked.

“No.”

“Oh my God, you idiot.”

“If I read this stuff,” Florette motioned to her folder, “would I know who those people are?”

“Duh!”

Danilo shushed the two women as the glass doors opened in front of them.

“Volunteers, I need to speak to you in the kitchen,” Ms. LaPore whispered almost immediately after they stepped into the house. She examined their appearances quickly, before stopping at Florette, “Especially you, Travere.”

The volunteers made their way to the kitchen. It was noticeably quieter, and colder, than the entryway. The only person in the room was a maid, who was cleaning the metal counters. The room was all white except for the metal counters, which had dark red details, appliances, and chairs. There was a plant in the corner and a chalkboard, but otherwise, the room was empty.

“You’re late,” Ms. LaPore snapped, her anger visible on her face. Her red dress and black heels seemed to match to her mood perfectly, “I don’t tolerate late volunteers.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but it took a while to.. find our uniforms,” Reese said.

“Really? All of you had trouble finding one of your three pairs of uniforms?” Ms. LaPore asked, then she turned to Florette, “I see Travere he-”

“It’s Miss. Travere, Juliette.”

“Do not address me by my first name,” Ms. LaPore hissed at Florette, “I see Travere had no problem improvising.”

All eyes turned to Florette’s outfit. She pulled the legs of her pants down so that her socks were covered, but her flannel was simply unhidable.

“Do you have an explanation for your attire, Travere?” Ms. LaPore said.

“Uh, yeah, Juliette,” Florette responded. Léonie mumbled a quiet ‘Oh my goodness’ and shook her head. Florette continued, “I thought, because I’m ninety-two and not incapable, I should be able to dress myself in whatever I see fit.”

Ms. LaPore’s face turned bright red and she stormed towards Florette. Almost like they were in a cartoon, Ms. LaPore grabbed the back of Florette’s collar and began pulling her towards the other room. Before they entered, Ms. LaPore turned to the rest of the group, “I want complete silence in here until I return! Anyone who speaks will end up like Travere here.”

The door slammed behind them and the three volunteers were left alone in the kitchen. None of them spoke and they ate their toast in silence.

A man in a business suit worth more than Léonie had seen in her lifetime walked in the room quickly to grab some cups. His glare lingered on the three of them and their measly pieces of toasts as he made his way through the room. Other than that interruption, their breakfast went on quietly.

The moment Danilo finished his toast, Florette walked through the doorway. Her head was down, hiding a bright red mark on her face, and her arms were crossed in front of her.

“Ms. LaPore says to meet in the amphitheater,” Florette said as she grabbed her piece of toast and continued towards the other door.

The amphitheater was in the front woods, so that guests could not see the volunteer’s housing. It was surrounded by trees, but because of its weekly cleaning, there was no sign of dirt on the stage or seating. There was a circle stage made of bricks in a herringbone pattern. The seating was also brick, and for this occasion, cushions had been put at each of the guests’ spots. The volunteers had been placed in the very back, with only Mr. Johnson to watch over them.

After a few minutes of the volunteers mindlessly flipping through their folders and Florette refusing to talk to Léonie, Mr. Steinberg and DeBurrow began leading the guests towards the amphitheater. Some of them looked at the amphitheater in an awe-like wonder, while others, who were unimpressed with the small size, chatted among themselves. The volunteers watched as the guests filed through the rows of seating and selected their spots. Most of them already had partners and sat together. A few of them were in military uniforms.

“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen,” Mr. DeBurrow spoke. He stood behind the pedestal that was positioned in the middle of the stage. He shuffled some notecards, “I thank you all for being here so early in the morning.”

Mr. DeBurrow cleared his throat, “Did you know that 98% of the officials in this room were formerly employed by their militaries? Mr. Howard Steinberg, Mrs. Juliette LaPore, Mr. Xavier Johnson, and myself included. Yet, 100% of you still work in the governm-”

Mr. Johnson awkwardly ran down the terraced seating down to Mr. DeBurrow. He whispered something in the elder man’s ear and then returned to the volunteers.

“Excuse me,” Mr. DeBurrow, “I know you all have been out of school for years, but I need to take attendance. We’ll do this quickly.

Anyone associated with the United States Central Intelligence, please raise your hand.”

Two men raised their hands. Mr. DeBurrow crossed something out on a piece of paper and told them to put their hands down.

“British Secret Intelligence Service?” A woman who resembled Reese raised her hand along with another man.

“Polish… Agencja Wywiadu?” A woman raised her hand.

Mr. DeBurrow called out names for at least five minutes until Florette was sure he had listed every country in the world. Well, every country except two.

“Now that that’s finished,” Mr. DeBurrow glanced at Mr. Johnson, “I can continue my speech. You all are gathered here today because you are, one, the best of the best in your respective countries and, two, you are some of the few individuals aware of the troubles brewing in China and Russia.”

A wave of murmurs rushed over the amphitheater. A few individuals seemed confused at the mention of the two countries, but were quickly informed by their companions.

“As of two weeks ago, China and Russia have been at war. It started near the town of Jalai Nur and Lake Hulun, on the Northern Chinese-Russian border,” suddenly, several holograms appeared behind Mr. DeBurrow. The Assembly had installed them instead of screens because of their effectiveness and inability to get wet. Only a few of the crowd was surprised by their appearance, as holograms and projections had been used for at least a decade.

A map of Russia and China, plus several statistics, appeared on the projection behind Mr. DeBurrow. He grabbed his pointing stick and directed the crowd’s attention to the map.

“I won’t get into much detail on the attacks so far,” Léonie sighed in frustration. She wanted to know what was going on. Mr. DeBurrow continued, “but if this war between these two countries carries on any farther, the world will irreversibly be thrust into World War III.”

#assembly of absolutists #11.. 4.. 3..#writblr #writeblr #writers of tumblr #writers on tumblr #writing #my writing #chapter two #leonie gloria thalmann #florette priscille travere #danilo santo potenza #reese daisy ellis #xavier clement johnson #fiction #realistic fiction #my oc #my ocs #imjustalonesomewriteblr

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omg-imagine · 4 years

Text

⊱ Forget Me Not (7/15) ⊰

Pairing: Keanu Reeves x Reader

Summary: After you wake up from a coma and realize that your memories from the last five years have been erased, Keanu works to bring back what you have lost.

Words: 3.6k

Warnings: None

A/N: So sorry for the delay! I was super busy and wasn’t able to finish writing in time to post yesterday. Anyway, it’s sort of filler chapter this week but definitely one of my favorites to write so far.

Also, we’ve reached the halfway point of the story and things will start picking up in the next few chapters! There may or may not be smut in an upcoming chapter and if I do end up writing it, I’ll give a heads up in the warnings.

Again, thank you so much for the lovely feedback and I hope you enjoy!

Part 6

Staring up at the ticking clock on the wall, you silently counted the hours that have passed since Keanu had gone to the Arch office to take care of a few business matters. It was the first time he has left you home alone, and truth be told, he was a bit more worried than he should have been. You, however, were adamant that he went ahead, not wanting him to neglect his responsibilities in favor of babysitting you.

After finally convincing him that you can handle being by yourself, Keanu left, slightly reluctant but keeping his promise of not allowing circumstances to interfere with his life. Once he arrived, you had received occasional text messages from him, replying to each one sincerely just to give Keanu some peace of mind. He was sweet for checking on you, and you couldn't really blame him for his overprotectiveness. You knew that it would come to pass when everything goes back to normal.

Or, so you hoped.

Even though you were glad that Keanu was working again, you couldn't help but miss him. Despite only being away for nearly six hours, the silence in the house was getting to you. You've kept yourself occupied by doing a couple chores around the place. Every room was spotless by the time you finished cleaning, leaving you with nothing else to do for the rest of the day.

Frankly speaking, you were beginning to feel a bit stir crazy being stuck inside. Sure, you've done grocery runs with Keanu and go on long walks with him around the neighborhood every morning, but you had yet to explore what Los Angeles had to offer. You wanted to check out the popular tourist spots, see the famous Hollywood Sign with your own two eyes, and hit up the shops on Rodeo Drive. Maybe even hike a trail at Griffith Park or drive down Sunset Boulevard where towering palm trees flanked the street.

You were just about to text Keanu and ask what time he was coming home when you heard the deep, rumbling sound of his motorcycle outside as he parked on the driveway. Swiftly, you hopped off the couch, dashing out of the front door just in time to catch him swing a leg over the saddle before dismounting.

As you approached Keanu, you couldn't stop yourself from staring as he took off his helmet, running a free hand through the length of his dark, disheveled hair, unaware of your presence. Unzipping his black leather jacket, you watched as he pushed back his sunglasses onto his head, revealing his rich brown eyes.

Obviously, you were very attracted to him. And to this day, you wondered how a man like Keanu chose you over anybody else.

"You okay there, Y/N?" Keanu asked after turning his head and meeting your widened gaze. He chuckled under his breath as the heat rose to your cheeks, realizing that he had caught you gaping at him.

"Uh, y-yeah. Yeah, of course," you stammered, covering up your embarrassment with a shy smile. "How was work today?"

"It was productive," he answered with a nod. "It's actually a good thing that I went today because there was an issue with getting parts to make a client's bike, but it all worked out in the end. Sorry for leaving you home alone. You must have been bored, or maybe grateful that you got a break from me."

You laughed at his attempt at adding a joke in there. "Honestly, I was extremely bored. I did some vacuuming and laundry around the house and a bit of light reading afterwards. But I'm happy you got work done today. Imagine what your client would say if he found out you weren't available because you were too busy watching over your girlfriend."

"Girlfriend?" Keanu repeated as if he couldn't believe what he had just heard.

"Isn't that what I am to you?" you inquired, slightly nervous. Not because of Keanu's reaction, but of the word that slipped out of your mouth. It was the first time you admitted out loud that you were Keanu's girlfriend, and it made it somehow feel a little more real.

"Yeah," he spoke, his eyes lingering over your features. "You're my girlfriend, but you're so much more."

You smiled sweetly at Keanu, silently exchanging affectionate glances with him until you found your voice again. "Can we go out and do something today?"

"Like what? Do you want to go to a park or see a movie?"

Suddenly, an idea sprouted in your mind. "I want you to take me to where we had our first date."

"Our first date?"

"Yes," you nodded eagerly. "I know you told me the story about it, but now I really want to go see the place for myself."

"It's Saturday, Y/N," Keanu pointed out. "It's going to be busy there. Are you sure?"

"I'm sure, Ke. It's gonna be fun," you giggled. "Be right back, I'll grab the car keys."

Quickly leaning up to kiss him on his cheek, you sprinted back inside the house, almost tripping over your feet from the excitement rushing through your veins. You missed the look of amusement on Keanu's face, however, as he watched your retreating figure, a smile tugging at his lips.

---

The traffic, although currently better than most days, was still horrendous. You had taken at least two naps in the car only to wake up and find out that Keanu had only driven five miles each time. Not even the calming sight of the blue Pacific waves on the right was enough to keep you distracted from the torturous wait.

"How much longer?" You asked him with a whine.

"According to the GPS, we still got 25 minutes to go," Keanu replied, briefly glancing at you. "Funny enough, you were also this impatient years ago. You hated traffic, and you were practically begging me to exit the highway and do this some other time."

"I'm not surprised," you shook your head as you cracked open the window, allowing the fresh ocean wind into the vehicle. "Why couldn't we just have dinner like a typical first date?"

"This was actually your idea back then," Keanu recalled with a small chuckle, making you roll your eyes. "But like you said before, it's going to be fun when we get there."

"If we get there," you sighed deeply.

"Hey, don't be like that. It's just traffic, you'll learn to tolerate it eventually."

Laughing, you glanced back at Keanu. "I sure hope so, or else I'm moving back to New York."

A few minutes went by, and you were too busy staring out of the window to notice Keanu suddenly switching to the right lane until he called out your name.

"What is it?" You said, watching him point at an upcoming mile marker.

"That's the exact place where we met for the first time."

As he said those words, the car slowly passed by the small green sign with a printed digit. Turning your head back to look at Keanu, you noticed that he was smiling adoringly, not at the spot he had mentioned, but instead, at you. Seeing it made your heart flutter, and you thought about how funny the universe worked. It had brought two strangers together nearly five years ago, resulting in a seemingly perfect love story.

Keanu's voice drew you out of your reverie. "What are you thinking?"

"Nothing serious," you told him. "I was just wondering again how life could have been different if I hadn't met you."

"And what do you think it would be like?"

You pondered for a moment, comparing the life you could remember with the one you had now. Even though you still felt a bit lost in this new world of yours, you couldn't recall the last time you were this happy, safe, and loved.

Facing forward, you gazed at the stretch of highway before you. "I think it would have been lonely."

---

You were twelve years old the last time you visited a boardwalk by the beach. Your parents had surprised you with a trip down the shore just before school started, and you stayed one night at a cheap motel that was only a block away from the water.

You remembered all the funnel cakes they bought you, the games they spent a lot of money on just so you could win a stuffed toy. You could still hear the clickity-clack of the wooden coaster, and how much you both enjoyed and feared the thrill of riding it. And at the end of the day was the firework show, which became the most memorable part of the trip.

As Keanu guided you up the wooden walkways, you felt a sense of nostalgia as you glanced around the Santa Monica Pier. It was a lot bigger than the one you've been to and had far more people exploring the boardwalk all throughout. Standing by the entrance, you could already see the ferris wheel and the rollercoaster just to the side of it. You felt like a little kid again as you looked around, not knowing exactly where to start.

"If we're doing this like our first date, we should have a round of water race," Keanu suggested, offering you his arm to which you happily took it.

"Lead the way, Reeves."

Arriving at the booth, you and Keanu took a seat at the two vacant spots before he handed the game operator $10 to play. You glanced at your side and realized that you were playing against three children who looked as though they had more experience than the both of you combined.

"Oh god, I don't want to lose to ten-year-olds," you whispered with a light-hearted laugh. "I suck at this game, are you at least any good?"

Keanu arched his brow with a slight grin. "Are you kidding me? I'm better than you."

Playfully punching his shoulder, Keanu then shot you a wink before the operator announced that the game was about to start. Gripping on the metal handlebars, you shut one of your eyes and aimed your gun at the target in front of you. At the sound of the bell, you pushed down the trigger, the stream of water hitting the target directly, and you quickly glanced up to see what place you stood.

"Gee, Ke," you chuckled after seeing how he compared to you and the other players. "I thought you were good? Those kids are beating you!"

"I didn't say I was good. I said I was better than you," Keanu smirked as the buzzer went off, signaling that someone had won, and it was neither you or Keanu that did.

"Well, you still got beat by a little kid. What's your excuse for that?"

Keanu got off the stool, pulling you up on your feet as well. "You were distracting."

"Distracting?" You scoffed playfully. "What did I do that got you all distracted?"

"You sitting there pretty was enough to make me lose focus," Keanu revealed.

"So, what do you want me to do? Stop being pretty just so you can win?"

Shaking his head, Keanu reached down and grasped your hands in his. "You can never stop being pretty, no matter how hard you try."

Walking further down the Pier, Keanu stopped when he reached a booth where a Shoot the Star game was set up. Convinced that he would be able to win you a prize by playing, Keanu slid a bill across the counter to start the game, picking up the BB gun before aiming it at the paper star.

"You sure you got this, Ke?" you questioned him.

"Of course, I do. Watch."

One by one, Keanu shot out every bit of the red star off with a high degree of precision, his skill coming as a shock to both you and the man tending the booth. Out of one hundred pellets, he only had to use about thirty of them to completely obliterate the target faster than you had seen anyone else do. His head turned slightly, a sly smile plastered on his face as his eyes met yours.

"Where the hell did you learn how to shoot like that?"

"John Wick boot camp," he simply responded. "What prize do you want?"

Picking out a brown, fluffy teddy bear hanging in one corner of the display, After it was handed to Keanu, he then presented the toy to you. Smiling, you accepted the prize, not even caring that the stuffed animal was poorly made, and some of the seams were unraveling. What mattered was that it came from him.

"You know, I haven't seen any of the John Wick sequels," you noted as you two began walking away, hand-in-hand. "We should watch those when we get home tonight."

"Anything you want, sweetheart," he said with a gentle squeeze of your hand. "Anything for you."

You and Keanu played a few more games together, learning how competitive he was when it came to versing you and others. He was stopped for a couple of occasions to take pictures with his fans. It warmed your heart, seeing the way he interacted with them, especially with the younger kids. He was so kind to them, so attentive and caring. You could understand why everyone fawned over him.

And it was for the same reasons why you were falling for Keanu.

Falling. Was it too soon to say that? You weren't sure, but all you could think about now was the way he held your hand and how he smiled so brightly at you, making you feel like you were the only person he could see. There were no other words to describe the feeling other than falling.

After a quick bite, you led Keanu towards the ferris wheel, something you had been looking forward to riding the second you arrived at the Pier. Once inside a passenger car, the wheel slowly began to turn, moving clockwise as the world below grew smaller the higher you rose above the ground.

The silence that fell between you was far from awkward. Instead, it was peaceful and comfortable. You were aware of how close you were sitting beside Keanu, feeling his heat as it radiated from him. He put one arm around you, drawing you even closer to his body. Leaning against him, you rest your head on his shoulder as you took in the beautiful scenery outside. At some point, the wheel stopped at the very top, your cart softly swaying to the gentle wind blowing against it.

"You okay?" He asked, shifting his eyes to look at your face. You didn't notice your grip around his arm had tightened.

"I am. Just a little scared of heights, that's all."

"Don't worry," he murmured as you tilt your gaze upwards. You saw how he was focused on your lips, and if you leaned in just enough, you could almost…

The wheel suddenly moved again, the sound of the hydraulics causing you to jump as the ride began its slow descent back to the loading dock. You were disappointed at missing your chance to kiss Keanu, wanting nothing more than to finally feel his lips on yours.

"Hey, you want to see something amazing?"

Smiling broadly, you then nodded. "Sure."

The sand between your bare toes was soft and warm to the touch. Each fine grain was colored with a golden hue, and it sparkled underneath the setting sun. Eventually, you and Keanu neared the edge of the ocean, the cool waters lapping at your feet with every languid wave washing up to the shore.

Carrying your shoes in one hand while Keanu held the other, you continued to walk down a quiet section of the beach. The breeze blowing from the tide tousled your hair as the briny smell of the air invaded your nose.

You could almost taste the salt on your tongue.

"Let's stop here," Keanu halted his steps after picking out a spot close to the shoreline, but far away enough so that the water didn't reach you.

Carefully, he lowered himself onto the ground, pulling your hand down to have you do the same. You settled in between his legs, your back pressed against his firm chest as his arms wrapped around you. You felt Keanu rest his head against yours, his scruffy beard tickling your skin as you release a contented sigh.

The sun above began to dip behind the horizon. It cast an orange haze over the ocean and painted the skies majestic shades of red and pink. The last of its rays gave off a gentle warmth, bidding farewell to let the night take over. Craning your head up, you saw Keanu’s soft smile, his face aglow by the waning light as he appeared to be lost in his own thoughts.

You were able to get your phone out and take a quick snapshot of him, the small giggles that escaped your lips breaking his stare.

"What are you doing?"

Shrugging, you tossed your phone to the side, landing right next to where your shoes laid on the sand. "I took a picture of you."

Keanu chuckled as his head moved closer. "Why?"

"I want to relive this memory one day," you explained. "Thanks for the second-first date. I really had fun today."

"Do you remember…?" He trailed off, but you knew what he was asking.

"No," you sighed sadly. "It's okay, though. Because now I have this to look back on while waiting for the old ones to come back."

"Okay," Keanu added, his eyes boring into yours. "I had fun today, too."

"Good. I'm glad."

A beat passed, and once again, you found yourself staring at his lips, which were only mere inches away from yours.

"I love you, you know?" He blurted out, catching you by surprise. Of course, you knew that he loved you, but hearing him say it outright felt different. "You don't have to say it back now, but I want to remind you that I still do."

Strangely, those three words were right there at the tip of your tongue. You could say it, but something was holding you back. Was it fear? Uncertainty? Perhaps it was all too soon for you.

"Tell me about our first kiss," you murmured, your gaze unwavering.

"I told you that story already, remember? We were at the overlook and—"

"No," you interjected with a shake of your head. "Tell me how it felt."

Keanu darted out his tongue to lick his lips, his breath softly fanning your face. "When we kissed for the first time, it was like time stood still for those few seconds. I was nervous during the whole thing because it had been a while, but being with you, I realized that there's nothing to be scared of. It sounds cliche, but I felt sparks while kissing you. After that, I never wanted to let you go."

You stayed silent. Instead of speaking, you let yourself lean into Keanu. Your lips brushed against his tentatively before you pulled away, your eyes flickering up to see the pleading look on his face.

He wanted it as much as you did.

Your gaze lowered, and again, you placed your lips on his, although this time, they stayed there. Eyes fluttering close, you kissed Keanu gently and sweetly as he brought his hand up to tenderly cup the side of your face. It was everything you had imagined and more.

But eventually, the two of you broke apart to breathe, severing the connection. Right away, you wondered when your next kiss would be, believing that if it was already this good, it could only get better from this point on.

"That was…" Keanu mumbled, nearly breathless.

"Amazing," you finished for him as he brushed a strand of hair away from your face and stroked your cheek. "I don't know what else to say."

Pressing his lips to your forehead, Keanu then sighed happily. "You don't have to say anything else. I already know."

With one last smile, your attention returned to the vast ocean and the disappearing sun, the taste of Keanu's lips lingering on yours.

For one, fleeting moment, you thought that you could stay this way forever.

---

Walking back to the car, Keanu couldn't help but grin with you by his side. He was on cloud nine after today's adventure. Even though you still couldn't remember anything, he loved how he was reliving these moments again. He never realized how long it truly has been since you had both enjoyed yourselves.

Opening the car door for you to climb inside, his cell started to ring, echoing throughout the parking garage.

"Who's calling?" You curiously asked as Keanu stood with one hand holding the door.

Fishing out his phone, he suddenly froze when he saw the caller ID.

It was Molly.

Keanu eventually knew that she would try reaching out to him after he had told her of what happened to you. It came as a shock to him that it took her longer than he had expected. But he didn’t want to deal with it right now.

He still wasn’t sure when he’ll be able to.

"It's just spam," Keanu said, the lie smoothly rolling off his tongue. It was becoming too easy for him to do that, lying.

Without a second thought, he turned off the screen and placed the phone back inside his pocket. Jogging to the driver's side, he took one deep breath in and out before opening the door and sliding inside.

Just for tonight, Keanu wanted to hold onto something he hasn't felt in a long time.

Happiness.

And he didn’t want her ruining it.

Part 8

Taglist: @penwieldingdreamer @fanficsrusz @toomanystoriessolittletime @awessomness @meetmeinthematinee @ringa-starr @ficsnroses @iworshipkeanureeves @keandrews @greenmanalishi @feminine-machinegun @lussdew @allie1804-fan @flaminasteroid

#keanu reeves #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves fanfic #keanu reeves imagine #keanu reeves x you #my fics #reader insert #rpf

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loyally-unfaithful · 4 years

Text

—; but “sentimental boy” is my nom de plume

word count: 1916

pairing: connor/gn!reader

genre: slight fluff; hurt no comfort

summary: it has been a year after the android revolution. humans and android alike settled down, an olive branch was offered as a sign of reconciliation. with newfound peace came along newfound love, and many open roads to choose from. this was no different for the rk800—connor. surprisingly or unsurprisingly, he decided to continue working at the dpd, this time as a bonafide detective. but he has also accepted the thrilling uncertainty of life that deviancy has brought; the same strings that brought his lover in his life.the same ones he hated and cursed, the same fates who ripped it all away.

a/n: everytime i convince myself i came out of my dbh hyperfixation i just look at connor and i become lovesick again.

gosh i know i should be finishing my other fic or work on the prologue script for my vn, but,,,,,,, i just had a sudden hankering for connor angst,,,,

written during a sleep deprivation induced moment of epiphany,,,,, (purple prose cuz im extra af uwu)

I’ve never written angst before so i’d love to hear your thoughts on it

maybe if you asked him one year ago whether he’d consider returning someone’s feelings, romantic feelings, he’d reply to you with a placid smile and a polite « i’m sorry, i wasn’t programmed to reciprocate romantic interest. ». he remembered that he’d sneer at them internally. now thinking about it, long before he questioned his obedience towards her, he already showed signs of deviancy.

you did what you were designed to do.

memories from his past would still torment him erratically, doubts would resurface on particularly dark days. but you were the light that cut through that haze. this wasn’t a “fake deviancy”. it couldn’t have been. not when he is holding your body so close to his, warmth radiating off of each other, two heartbeats—similar, but different—thrumming together. all the softly whispered and adoringly announced « i love you »’s; all the quick and coveted pecks and all the feverish and passionate kisses. no, he was alive, he was sure of it—alive and absolutely enamoured by you. all semblance of doubt ebbed away when you entered his life.

whenever he’s around you, he feels more alive: you make him feel everything, all the little precious things. tenderness and adoration when he shares tranquil mornings with you. he feels more alive when he’s with you, all the little habits and routines too endearing: the sweet post-it notes scattered over your shared flat; scribbled upon it are encouraging words or sweet nothings. conflicting work schedules meant that moments spent together were scarce, but that made them even more valuable and coveted. captivation, was another emotion that he felt around you. your mannerism, your dreams and interests, your physical attributes and quality of voice. logically speaking, you were just another human, insignificant in the grand scheme of things. you’d live and then one day, you’d die. as if you never really existed. but he wasn’t being logical. how could he be? when you were right there in front of him? you made him irrational, and he found that new aspect in life thrilling. confusing at first, but exciting. he was eternally grateful that you let him experience all these beautiful emotions with you. he was grateful that you allowed him in your short journey that you called life.

he was happy, absolutely content, with his shared life with you. you were both in perfect places in your respective lives: you both had a stable job, loving family backing you up, and a fulfilling love life. what seemed to be a mismatched couple at first turned to be 2 pieces of the same puzzle finally finding their place. life for the both of you couldn’t be better.

but along with the many exquisite moment that your romantic endeavours brought you, the android didn’t only taste the sweet delicacies of life; no matter how idyllic a moment may be, there were times when he had to taste the astringent and sour desserts life offered.

anger. that was an emotion that he felt. but that’s not accurate, no… it was frustration and shock and betrayal, all the unsavoury feelings in the world. perhaps it was due to his inexperience, maybe his lack of exposure to these negative sentiments, that caused him to snap the way he did. to hurt you the way he did. but it happened and there was no turning back the clock.

no matter how much he begged and cried for it.

he was proud that you got the job offer in canada, he really was. and he, like any other caring boyfriend would, offered to accompany you there, an offer which you gladly accepted. that was the plan. but plans were difficult to follow. crime waits for no man, working for the law meant that connor must always be available for duty. no excuses, he was an android. but connor wasn’t just a simple android detective, no, he had a much more important role: he was the link, the messenger, between jericho and the police force. he was the crucial communication between the two forces. so when jericho contacted him about threats of anti-android attacks, he had to make an appearance at their base. the meeting coincided with the day you were meant to travel to canada. it was a simple trip really. it only took a few hours by train, stay in canada for 2 days (it was the weekend), and then return back to detroit, probably arriving in the late afternoons to their home.

but you were looking forwards to traveling with your wonderful partner after « [we] spent so much time apart ». the day he told you the urgent change of plans, connor was tired, overwhelmed. you were frustrated and expectant. a fight was bound to have erupted. accusatory statements, along the lines of: « you don’t actually care about me! it’s all about work and work and work! » and « i can’t believe how selfish you’re being right now! » in between shouting and yelling and frustration and anger and contempt–

you both went to bed exhausted but spiteful, still not forgiving each other. in hindsight, he felt so utterly pathetic, so unbelievably childish, for being that cruel, and uncaring. he didn’t want to be like him again. so many glares and insults were thrown at each other, tears threatened to spill, LED flashed and shone a true red, doors were slammed. he felt awful, plain and simple. you both lied in the same bed, under the same cover. so close yet so excruciatingly far apart. back facing the other’s, no one said a word.

you woke up before him. bitter and unhappy. no morning kisses, no whispered « i love you » to wake your other half. you wordlessly got yourself ready, grabbed your bag and quietly snuck out. no post it notes were left. no sweet promises or encouraging words. you could do this work trip without him. you were independent. you didn’t need a tin can to chaperone you everywhere. so you left. plain and simple. gone. since you woke up and left earlier than planned, you boarded an earlier train. how lovely and convenient. the carriages were mostly filled with androids. perhaps they were trying to immigrate to canada like the others. who knows. you paid no mind and absentmindedly scrolled through your phone, obsessively checking your messages to see if connor realised. to see if he apologised. because frankly, at that point you were tired of being mad and just wanted to spend the day in his arms. but prideful and petty as you were, you weren’t willing to apologise and admit your mistakes first.

connor roused from stasis a few moments afterward, less bitter and more regretful. he wished to right his wrongs but the normally warm presence beside him was not there. his system was slowly booting back up when his audio sensor picked up an incessant ringing from the living room. he jolted up and rushed out to pick up the ringing phone call and waited for the other side to speak up.

the room was so utterly quiet, a silence so suffocating engulfed the room, that you could hear a pin drop. the voice on the other side asked whether this was indeed your house and that he was indeed connor anderson. he swallowed dryly and answered with a soft, « yes ». running a quick check in his database, he matches the caller’s voice with a certain nathaniel edwards. first responder. he allowed his HUD to display the news. if androids could get pale, have all their blood drain from their faces, his would have certainly done so. he stood, rigid and motionless, consumed by shock and horror.

the news and the first responder’s words blended into one as he gripped the phone tighter: « this morning, at 7:48 am the train from detroit to toronto was caught in a devastating turn of events: the train soon caught in fire and exploded as it made its way over the border. it has been confirmed that there has been 0 survivors. it is unclear whether this was an unfortunate accident or the result of anti-android terrorism. »

the other person’s voice poured through the speaker but he wasn’t listening. he stared blankly in front of him. no way, he thought, it couldn’t have been… the only sign that the android was registering the other man’s input was the now constant red LED.

« sir? sir. i’m sorry to bring this— – no, this isn’t right… you must have the wrong number, he interrupted. there were probably others with your name… maybe they were mistaken... – sir that’s not possible, w— – you must have gotten the wrong house… not… it-it couldn’t have been…» but he knew how improbable it was that they got the wrong number. he was built to be logical, to believe statistics. the statistics told him you were dead. long gone. he hoped and prayed that you stayed back, didn’t get on the earlier train. the statistics told him you did.

he choked out a response, quiet and defeated. you were gone. he’d never get to see you again. « i… i’m sorry… i-i don’t understand… – we tried our best to find them sir, but… the fire was too severe… if we gain any new developm— – you didn’t save them. »

still in a daze, he must have hung up on the poor man and unceremoniously dropped the phone. its clatter the only sound in this deafening silence. the reality of it all comes crashing through and he collapsed, ugly sobs escaping him as the denial faded away to make way for the pure and unfiltered grief. he felt lost. for the first time in a long while since amanda he felt so utterly and completely lost. no more shining beacon during his dark and stormy nights. no more valued affection and coveted kisses. no more notes and no more smile to come home to.

he laughed bitterly, devoid of any humour. it was funny, just how cruel the fates were: made human life so fleeting. lachesisonly gave them such a short eternity. and when he thought you both found your missing halves, bound to another by an invisible string, atropos cuts it. a small snippet that is so easily ripped away from you. he belonged with you, he felt at peace with you. he was able to be what he struggled to be for the majority of his miserable and artificial existence. with you, he was able to be happy.

but now he’ll have to get used to not coming home to a warm embrace. he’ll have to get used to going into stasis alone, in the cold bed. he’ll have to get used to his aching heart being greeted by an empty house. every cold and lonely nights. it’s ridiculous how human he felt because of you. and he was both thankful and spiteful for it.

sadness and bitter regret ripped through him when he remembered that he didn’t share goodbyes before he left. he remembered how he couldn’t have apologised to you and tenderly held you. he regretted not being able to tell you how much he loved you and how much you meant to him for the last time. ra9 only knows the things he’d do and the things he’d sacrifice, just to have you in his arms again.

instead he was faced with the bitter reminder that the last thing he’s ever said to you, your last memory of him, was a contemptuous and scornful « i wished i never met you ».

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