#✷ I WILL GREET THE SUN AGAIN; GREET THE STREAM THAT ONCE FLOWED IN ME — STUDY. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

astraystayyh · 11 months

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Snow on the beach

Hyunjin x reader. friends to lovers, but they've always known. implied soulmates.

this basically wrote itself nsbdbd as always feedback is highly appreciated <33 (if you can listen to Snow On The Beach by Taylor and Lana, do it!)

The ocean laps softly at your feet, and you watch its ebb and flow intently, admiring how each wave always knows precisely where to go- where to finally rest after a long journey of travels.

This beach is your spot with Hyunjin. Not a secret one by any means, but one that feels yours because of all the memories you've shared here. The ocean has witnessed it all between the two of you.

"I will miss this," you sigh wistfully, and Hyunjin hums from beside you. He's watching the water too, legs tightly hugged to his chest, his cheek resting softly on his knee.

You've grown up with Hyunjin right in front of this ocean. You weren't lovers but you weren't friends either. You were simply a mirror of one another. Every part of him found its reflection in you.

"Me too. Remember when we first came here?" he chuckles softly at the distant memory and you smile to yourself. That was seven years ago.

You are 15, stomping down the beach because you are angry at the world, just like every other teenager. You plop down on the sand and dig your hand into its warm particles. The soothing sensation grounds you and the sound of the waves drowns out your thoughts.

"Hey," someone greets and you look up to find Hyunjin. He's your classmate in high school. You remember him in passing because you once dropped your pen and he picked it up for you without a word.

"Hi," you greet back, shielding your eyes from the harsh sun rays with your hand. Hyunjin moves a bit to the side to block out the sun for you. You notice.

"Mind if I sit with you?" he asks and you shrug, "Sure. But I don't feel like talking."

"Me too. We can sit alone together."

Paradoxal words, but you soon understand what he means by them. He's right next to you, but you're both lost in your own worlds. And yet his presence seems to have a calming effect on you. It feels comforting, to have someone exist with you without asking for anything in return.

"I do remember," you smile, turning back to look at the ocean. Your hand starts to pick up the sand once more, and Hyunjin does the same. Your pinkies brush against each other- it isn't the first time this happened. Touching Hyunjin has become second nature to you.

You are 16, facing the ocean once again. Only this time tears are streaming down your eyes. 'Where are you?' you read in Hyunjin's text and you quickly write back 'Our spot'. He's there ten minutes later. He doesn't ask what's wrong, but his fingers are intertwined with yours and it's enough. It was the first time Hyunjin has grabbed your hand in. You haven't been the same since.

"And now you're leaving me," Hyunjin teases, a glint of amusement shining brightly in his eyes. He knows you'd never leave. Even if you are no longer near him.

"Mm, finally getting a break from you after 7 years," you joke as your fingers curl around his pinky, as his hand gently tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear. You'll always be here.

You're 17, and it's nearly midnight, and yet you and Hyunjin are still talking in front of the ocean- the waves drinking in each bit of your conversation.

It's cold and you shiver slightly from the breeze grazing your exposed arms. Hyunjin notices and opens his jacket wide for you, silently inviting you to seek warmth from him. You bury yourself in his chest, his arms coming around to encircle you.

Your ear settles directedly on top of his heart- the first time you listen to Hyunjin's heartbeat. But it feels familiar, as if it's been ringing within you from the moment you met.

"Can't believe you won't be here for my birthday," he pouts and you giggle, inching closer to him in the process.

You've celebrated your birthday together for the past seven years. You've known all his wishes, since he always shared them with you. He didn't care about the superstition that telling someone your wish prevented it from becoming a reality. He believed that you and he are one, so it was only natural to tell you.

"I'll call you from the other side of the world." You were leaving, not for long, only a year. A work opportunity you couldn't pass on. And yet it felt weird and unnatural to be somewhere where Hyunjin wouldn't be.

You are 18, and as you watch the waves fizzle out as they meet the shore, your head laying on Hyunjin's shoulder, a sudden realization dawns on you.

You are an ocean wave soaring too close to the sky, fueled by emotions too raw, too powerful, to be guarded by your heart alone. But as you near Hyunjin, your waves falter, your steps halt. Your worries, your fears, and your anger are no longer forces to be reckoned with. Instead, they become harmless sea foam. A mere shell of what they once were. To you, Hyunjin is the shore, bringing you out of your darkness, welcoming you home.

"You'll call at my midnight?" he asks, leaning his face closer toward yours. You could clearly see his moles now, the one under his eye, and the one on his cheek. They remind you of the ink of a poet that ended up drying on his face. Everything that made Hyunjin was poetry to you.

"Missing me already?" you grin at him and his eyes soften at you. "I miss you even when you are with me."

You are 19, and Hyunjin is laying his head on your lap, dried tear stains on his face. This isn't the first time you've seen Hyunjin cry. But it is the first he sobbed in your arms. It was an agonizing sight, one that made you realize just how far you care for him. His eyes were now closed, as you gently thread through his hair, your touch seemingly calming him down.

"I think I'm your shore today," you whisper, your voice getting caught up with the wind and the crashing of waves. But Hyunjin catches it. He understands.

"I need to write you a list of reminders, since I won't be here to take care of you," you joke, brushing away his words as if they weren't now imprinted onto your heart.

"If I don't follow them will you come back?"

You are 20, and it's your birthday. You are naturally celebrating it at your spot at the beach. You are laughing loudly at a joke Hyunjin just said when your hand slips from beneath you, and you are suddenly thrown forward, your nose now brushing against his. Hyunjin stares deeply into your eyes, and it makes your heart clench- how unguarded he seems to be with you. So you lean in and place a chaste kiss on the mole adorning his cheek. You've always wanted to do that.

"This is my birthday gift," you giggle and Hyunjin shakes his head, a crimson blush tinting his cheeks.

"I'll always come back to you," you say quietly.

You are 21 and it's snowing at the beach. The first time you've seen it happen in your entire existence. You watch in awe as dainty snowflakes coat the sand- a sight so mesmerizing it renders you speechless for a few moments. But despite the beauty unfolding around you, Hyunjin still only has his eyes on you. You are admiring the snow and he's admiring you.

"And I'll always be here."

You are now twenty-two, and you are saying your goodbyes to your place at the beach with Hyunjin.

It happens naturally, the way Hyunjin finally tells you that he loves you, right where it had all started. This is the first time he's uttered those three words and yet it's as if you've been hearing them for the past seven years.

"I love you," you say back, the confession flowing easily from your mouth because you've both always known.

You've known each time you sat down here, in front of this ocean. Where every past version of yourselves confessed the way they knew best- through stolen glances and subtle touches and comforting words. Where you've slowly grown within ones another's soul, just like the rings of a tree.

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pastanest · 8 months

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Spencer Reid x she/her!reader

A/N: the day I don’t write about a sunshine!reader is the day one of you needs to action a welfare check on me bc I bawled my eyes out writing this angsty shit fr

warning: mentions of Maeve (rip queen x)

A Chance

It was strange, getting to know someone through the words of friends, before being able to actually meet that person. The board had requested you transfer to the BAU while Spencer was in prison, and you were only ever meant to be there as a placeholder of sorts, to lend your expertise to the team that struggled in their dear friend’s absence. It was a temporary arrangement, but from the moment Emily Prentiss referenced you to Spencer during a visit to him in prison, he could see in her eyes that your presence had already proven itself invaluable.

The tales she told him of you were silly things that made him laugh, and that was something he had long forgotten how to do. Spencer had no idea what you looked like, because you had insisted that you didn’t want to take a visitation slot from someone that he knew; a notion Emily had passed on to him when he had asked, and his sombre heart had ached from beneath the rubble in his chest, the ruins that once housed a heart of gold. He had no way of picturing you, but he did, he tried. Hearing the jokes you had told the team through Emily, seeing the enjoyment you brought to his friends simply by talking about you, hearing of your efforts to bring smiles to everyone on the team like it was second nature for you. In every way, you made it clear you had no intention of taking Spencer’s place, you were only there to take care of those he loved by making them laugh again, and somehow, that endless stream of kindness reached Spencer, too. Flowing through prison bars, through tense muscles, to the cold, grey, shattered fragments of his heart.

On the day of his release, you had conducted the team in arranging a surprise party for him at the office, just a small get-together for him and his closest friends, who you understood were his family. Your efforts did not go unnoticed to the genius, and neither did the absence of you, amongst his friends.

“Is (Y/N) here?” Spencer had asked.

And David Rossi had shaken his head with a fond smile. “No, she insisted she didn’t want to impose or put you in the position of having to meet someone new, so she’s at home, but she’ll be back in tomorrow.”

You had done it again, without even being there to do it. You had single-handedly reached into Spencer’s chest and lifted those fragments out of the rubble, dusting them off and setting them down gently atop the rubble, letting the sun shine on his heart again.

The next day, Spencer had arrived early at the office for a multitude of reasons. To sit at his desk in the silence of the morning, with nobody around, just to feel back where he belonged, the serenity of it; that was one of the reasons. And as he sat, contemplating that very notion, another reason for his early arrival stepped into the office. Though he had never seen you before, Spencer’s heart recognised you immediately, and he stood from his desk, the softest smile on his face as he watched you. It took you several seconds to acknowledge his presence, what with your big headphones covering your ears and a large pile of boxes in your arms. Spencer watched you like you were a silent film, an enchanting and nostalgic wonder that he had never been lucky enough to lay his eyes on before. It was only when you had set your things down and turned to his desk, with just one large box in your arms, that your eyes widened. And Spencer continued to watch as the brightest smile he had ever seen blossomed on your face, like the first flower he’d seen after a year-long winter.

“Spencer! Hello!” You greeted him cheerfully, removing your headphones. “These are for you! Emily said that you liked ones with chocolate frosting and sprinkles best?” You had asked, setting the large box down on his desk in front of him.

He stared down at it, and you, in absolute wonder. How could you possibly be real?

“(Y/N)...” Spencer spoke your name to you for the first time, having rehearsed it and played around with the way it sounded in his mind during particularly lonely nights in his cell, but finding that it sounded different when he said it to you.

“I can’t thank you enough. For this, for the party yesterday, for the happiness you’ve brought the team- thank you.” Spencer said, his voice as gentle as he could make it, afraid that the slightest of harsh tones could shatter the fragile ray of sunshine that stood before him.

“Oh, that’s alright! You don’t need to thank me, not for any of it, the team have all been so welcoming to me, and they talk about you all the time, you know.” You beamed up at him.

“They do?” Spencer asked, his words unexpectedly shy.

You nodded fervently. “Everyday, they had a new tale to tell me about you, a new fact to share that they learned from you- honestly, I feel like I was getting to know you before I’d even met you!” The chuckle that passed your lips was that of an angel.

You had been getting to know him in the same way he had been getting to know you. What did you think of the things you heard? Did you think of him as often as he thought of you? Were you as curious about him? Did thoughts of him make you smile, in the way thoughts of you made him, when he would walk back to his cell after a visit from Emily?

A lump formed in Spencer’s throat. How different is he now, to the person you were getting to know? Will prison have made him unrecognizable to you, too?

But as he gazed down at you and searched your eyes, unable to find a single shred of judgment, or fear, he felt hope. A glimmer, a spark, beneath the rubble.

“Emily’s been telling me about you, too.” He managed to reply, his voice quiet in a way he hoped you wouldn’t address.

“All good things, I hope!” You chuckled again, busying yourself at your desk and looking over your shoulder at him.

It felt normal. Like a conversation between two old friends. Spencer felt comfortable, for the first time since…even his eidetic memory faltered in recalling.

“All good things.” He assured you, a smile playing on his lips and in his chest.

Somehow, it came as a surprise to you when the team requested you join the team permanently. You had enjoyed your time with them tremendously, but you had never suspected they enjoyed you just as much, enough to ask you to stay. They had waited to ask you, wanting Spencer to meet you first and give his verdict. He couldn’t form his thoughts into coherent strings of sentences, but the smile on his face after meeting you told the team that he shared their resounding 'yes'.

And when he saw the way you lit up, the happy tears in your eyes as the team asked you if you’d consider making your position permanent, Spencer grinned. Your tearful eyes landed on him, sensing that he had agreed to ask you to stay, and that one thought made the tears in your eyes cascade down your cheeks.

“Thank you.” You had blubbered, gaze traveling across each and every member of the team, but lingering on Spencer in a way that made him question whether his IQ points were evaporating, leaving his head emptier, his mind happier, with the simple joy of you, smiling at him like that.

With your place on the team set in stone, you all began working on cases together, quickly discovering that your true place was at Spencer’s side, much to his delight and dismay in equal measure. You made him smile like nobody else, made him feel normal, seen, for who he was, who he could be as long as you were around to encourage a side of him he had learned to keep well hidden, to protect himself. Even his mother, on his first visit to her since getting out of prison, had commented that he seemed so much more himself. How had you reminded him of who he was, when you had not known who he was before? Spencer felt selfish for collecting your smiles, treasuring them all to himself. He wondered if he had any right to make you smile at all. He was unworthy of causing a smile like yours. And there was guilt, so much guilt, the moment you were out of sight and he became excruciatingly aware of just how much more you deserved. An angel like you, walking on hot coals beside him, burning the soles of your feet but still smiling up at him like he’s worth it.

Tonight, the pain is worse. To celebrate a particularly gruelling case being solved, you suggested a garden party at your house, and Spencer had been the very first person you asked to attend. As if he needed any further proof to his ongoing theory of it being physically impossible for him to ever deny you of anything. And here he stands, in your garden, nursing a drink and watching you just as he did the first time he saw you. There is music playing, and you are aware of his presence, but you are still the same vision to him, all sound fading until you are that same silent film. Until your laugh breaks the barrier; a sound he is certain could reach his ears from miles away. Through any sea of other voices, he can pinpoint yours.

He is nothing more than a shadow, standing alone, a few feet away from everyone else, on the outside of their bubble but peering in just to torture himself. The smiles on his friends faces, on yours, as you all dance around together, dressed to the nines and laughing like it’s the silliest joy you’ve ever known. Spencer looks at the perfect image before him until he can bear it no longer, and he sets his drink down on the nearest table. Enough, he thinks to himself.

Nobody notices when a shadow slowly fades out of view.

He walks through your home, towards the front door, the scent of your perfume trying to persuade him to stay. The trinkets on your shelves, the art on your walls, every single thing exuding you in the most beautiful way; he knows he could stand right here, in your hallway, just drinking you in until he died of old age, but he keeps walking. Shoes heavy, legs of lead, he trudges out of your front door and onto the street, under the same stars as you and feeling the weight of how little he deserves to share such a thing.

Every step further away from where you are kills him just a little more. He wonders how far he’ll make it, whether he’ll manage to reach the sea before he sinks to his knees and lets himself wither away entirely, the force of you no longer binding his atoms and holding him to this Earth; an echo that you have been selfless enough to maintain, no matter the cost to you. The cost, Spencer is sure, has been insurmountable. How can it not have been? A burden as heavy as him, a stain you can’t wash out of your life that somehow exacerbates every time you check in on it, a husk that you remind how to live, simply by existing.

Seven steps from your front door, his legs start to falter, wobbling beneath him under the weight of the crime he has committed and the sentence he serves now, for stringing you along like he’s ever been worthy of walking the same ground. His trembling hands grip garden fences as he forces himself onwards, away, away.

“Spencer?”

A vision, a mirage, the perfect and only balm to restore his strength enough to stand up straight. Thank you, thank you, his mind spins, continuing to walk until your footsteps reach his ears.

“Where are we going?”

And there it is, that smile, looking up at him like you can fix everything in his world, and you have. Again.

He can’t tell you, he can’t possibly speak such heartbreaking thoughts aloud. He can’t do anything that’ll cause your smile to even falter, not now, when his heart breathes to life and rises from the rubble, reaching for you.

“Just…needed some air.” Spencer’s voice is hoarse, and he can tell from the look in your eyes that you see right through him, see that something is wrong, but you don’t pry.

Instead, you do what feels right to you.

For the first time, you slip your hand into Spencer’s and squeeze it, so gently. His hand all but engulfs yours, but he can feel every inch of your skin that touches his, and his heart soars.

“Okay, you wanna walk round the block?” You ask, your words casual, gentle, and holding no judgement, like always.

Spencer can only nod, his IQ reduced to zero because you are holding his hand and he cannot possibly think about anything else.

Taking his agreement, you start walking, and he walks in step beside you. On the same ground, under the same night sky, in a silent film that he feels he is a part of now.

For a few minutes, neither of you say anything. Only casting shy smiles at each other every so often, until you decide to speak words that alter Spencer’s very brain chemistry.

“You know, you’ve become my favorite person in the world.” Your voice is quiet, almost bashful, in a way he has never heard you speak before.

Spencer frowns, his eyebrows knitted together by the confusion and bliss that swirls within him in a perfect storm, but your hand is still holding his, so he is still incapable of speaking.

“Every new thing I come to learn about you, I adore more than the last.” You continue. “And I didn’t know what to do with that, at first, because I didn’t want to drop my feelings on you and give you no choice but to address them, I didn’t think that would be fair. So I’ve thought about it, and I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s okay.” You smile up at him in a way that makes his heart splutter frantically. “It’s okay if you don’t feel the same, because even if you don’t, I’ll still adore you just as much, and I’ll help you find the person that you come to adore in that way.” The sincerity in your eyes very nearly breaks Spencer in two, and he stops walking.

He is at an agonizing crossroads. His eidetic memory forces him to relive his tragic romantic history, from the date he asked JJ on that she invited Penelope to, to the worst day of his life, when the only girl he thought that would ever love him, was murdered right in front of him. Maeve. He never even got to hold her hand like this, say the words he’d always wanted to, thank her for giving him the chance, for letting him love her until her last moments, and beyond that.

Tears gather in Spencer’s eyes as he looks down at you and thinks of Maeve. He had always thought that she was it, that she was his one and only chance at love, at a family, at the life he had always dreamed of, and that was out of his reach because she was. But as he gazes down at you, feels your hand squeeze his again in a way he never got to feel with Maeve, he realizes that this is different, that he is different. There is no way to know how his life would differ if he had not lost Maeve, how long they would have lasted, if at all; he stopped plaguing himself with the what-ifs long ago, settling with the agony that it was his fault, that he deserved to suffer, and he deserved to do so alone.

But you are here. Right here.

Smiling up at him like he’s worth more than he feels he is, pouring your heart out to him and not expecting anything in return, just wanting him to know that you adore him, because that’s who you are. And he is the person you adore. He is not without love, he is not a lost cause, his fate is not sealed.

You are here, with Spencer, because you have chosen to be. You adore him as he is now, and he doesn’t even know who that is, but he doesn’t care anymore, because as long as you adore him, he’s okay with that.

The tears gathering in his eyes break past the barriers and slip down his stubbled cheeks, a small smile curling at his lips, before it blossoms just as yours did the first time you saw him, into a grin, and then a quiet laugh. He looks up at the stars and takes a moment to thank them for allowing him to stay here with you, and then he takes hold of your other hand, holding both of your smaller ones in his.

“You’ll have to give me time to formulate my thoughts into words, but for now, let me just say that I…” Spencer takes a deep breath, blinking back the tears that dare blur his perfect vision of you, and then he sighs, shaking his head. “Adore isn’t a strong enough word.” He smiles down at you. “I’m enchanted by you, and I’d be willing to challenge any belief that tries to advise me against worshipping you.”

The chuckle that passes your lips as your eyes glaze over is the most beautiful sound Spencer has ever heard, and he is definitely not biased, because he absolutely has not thought that every time he’s heard you laugh.

“Very profound, Doctor Reid.” You muse. “So, where does that leave us?”

The smile on Spencer’s face is dazed, lost in the dream of you. The stars shine above and the ground sighs below, the universe relieved to have finally guided the two of you to where you were always intended to be.

Your question is a good one - an excellent one, Spencer would argue, solely because you were the one to ask it - and it takes several seconds for his whirring mind to piece together the words to correctly phrase the sentiment he feels deep within the heart that you have taken the time to intricately piece back together with the same gentle hands that hold his now. Eventually, though, the words find him, and he parts his smile to let that same heart speak to you.

“I honestly don’t know, but anywhere that you are, is where I want to be.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #imagine #imagines #fanfic #fanfiction #headcannon #headcannons

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krsnaradhika · 1 year

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You know, to me Raghava feels like warmth. Like the sun. He's magnanimous, gentle, very warrior like yet very caring. He'd pat your back and bob his head to all the stories you'll rattle off with even tho sometimes all you're muttering is nervous and delirious gibberish. Not a giggle, certainly not a giggle but he has an infectious chuckle, and it further pronounces his dark cheekbones and his lotus-akin eyes crinkle in half moons when he does that. He's the Raghava Rama, and he makes you bow before his excellence and kingly aura, like that of a parent and mentor at once. You cannot help but gawk at his lotus feet which house many ardent devotees near them.

And Kanha, he'll tilt your chin up from the same elysian feet and wipe the streams that flow down your eyes. "Hey, hush now. You asked for me, didn't you? See, I am all ears today," he says, and there's your nook in his eyes. There's a certain tranquility, but you can see his notoriety right there pulling your leg. He's like the moon, the tantalizing breeze in the desert of life and you've sempiternally yearned to bask in the serein of his sight. He's Dvarakadhipati- what a witty and robust and pulchritudinous man and oh lord where are my words falling- and yet you can't seem to haul yourself away from his eyes and apologize for the felony you seemed to be committing by not greeting and bowing to him sincerely. You're choking, speaking is far off...the only sound you can make out is a cry everytime your lips part. There's sympathy in his handsome facial features, and his peetambar is now gently being dabbed against your forehead, brushing off the sweat beads that deck it. "You've fought, and I am so proud," he whispers once again, only for you to burst out in a hysterical fit of tears once again and now he's giggling and wrapping his mighty arms around you. There's home as you huddle down against him, and he ruffles your hair affectionately.

"Thank you. Nobody's ever said that to me before, lord."

#idk what i wrote but this is something i suppose #maybe I'll delete it later but i had to get this out of my head because look how different and contrasting yet same Raghava and Kanha are?#krishnablr #kanha #krishna #shri rama #yk i saw some people of krishnablr being sad and stuff so was i like hey let us let people know they're always loved by him #he's too kind to let go off our hand

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clu-ven · 1 year

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It's the Thought that Counts

It’s my birthday and I thought what better way to celebrate than a small fic with Fives! (Apologies in advance, this isn’t proof read. Also! I'm v new to this and currently working on making a masterlist so pls bear with me lol)

Summary: Fives takes on the brutal task of trying to cook pancakes

Tags: surprises gone wrong, fluff, minor burns, many kisses, suggestive but nothing nsfw

Word Count: 1.2k

For once, you take your time waking up. There’s no need to rush, no battle you need to hurry off to (both literally and metaphorically). Right now, there’s only one thing you need to do and that’s relax.

As your eyes flutter open, you’re greeted by a gentle stream of the morning sun flowing in through the window. Although you have yet to check your clock, it feels too early to get up.

Shutting your eyes, you nuzzle into your pillow, stretching your arms across the soft bed sheets. You mindlessly search for your best source of warmth, assuming he’d still be fast asleep next to you.

Even though Fives is used to getting up at the break of dawn most rotations, he tends to sleep-in whenever he gets the opportunity, which is usually when he stays over at your place, preferring to relish in your softness than get out of bed.

But today is different. Running your hand along the bed, you find no one there. Maybe it’s later than you thought. You know Fives could only stay for a while, needing to get back to base at some point in the morning. Maybe he didn’t want to disturb your sleep and quietly left. A disappointed sigh falls from your lips, already missing his company and yearning for his touch.

You want to bury your face in your pillow, not ready to deal with the day… but then it hits you, a smell finally reaching your nose and making you instinctively scrunch up your face. It’s an intense burning smell, causing your body to wake up immediately as panic surges through you. Any hope of falling back to sleep quickly fades away as you go on high alert.

Jumping out of your bed, you don’t waste any time in putting on some actual clothes, stumbling across the room and down the hall in nothing but your underwear and a loose fitted t-shirt you carelessly threw on the night before.

Endless possibilities race through your mind. Did Fives decide to make himself a quick breakfast but forget to turn off the stove? Did you leave it on yesterday? Oh kriff, has the stove been on all night? Expecting to see a blazing fire, you crash into the room.

Standing in the middle of the kitchen, Fives mutters a curse under his breath as he runs one of his fingers under water. Beside him, what looks like a charred pancake is stiffly poking out the top of a pan. A light haze of smoke envelops the kitchen, slowly drifting up towards the ceiling.

“Fives?” the words stumble out of your mouth, a mix of confusion and shock taking over.

Glancing behind his shoulder at you, Fives flashes you a forced smile. “You’re up!” he exclaims, gritting his teeth together “Great timing”.

Pulling your attention away from the cremated pancake and cloud of smoke, you focus on him. “What happened? Is your finger ok? You move deeper into the room, rushing to his side.

Without thinking, you take his hand in yours, the cool water running over your skin as you pull his finger closer to you. Fives sharply inhales as you remove his hand from the water, his finger beginning to throb again.

“It looks worse than it is” he tries to assure you, though the bright red mark along his finger tells you differently.

“Are you ok?” you know it’s a dumb question but you ask it anyway, worry gnawing at your stomach..

Fives nods his head, shrugging off the injury “I am, it’s just a small burn, nothing to worry about”.

“I think I have some small bacta patches around here somewhere,” you think aloud, tentatively holding his hand in yours and inspecting his burn “hmm, it doesn't look like a third degree burn, it should heal in a few days if you don’t overwork yourself”.

Thankfully it isn’t a serious injury but it's definitely enough to give you a fright. Beginning to relax, Fives jokes “If you think this looks bad, you should see the other guy”.

Looking up at him, you raise an eyebrow “And the other guy is… a pancake?”.

He sighs at the reminder of the food, a look of defeat crossing your lover’s face. “I wanted to surprise you before I left,” he explains “and I thought it would be easy to make but I think the pancake’s won this round”.

Letting his hand fall gently from your grasp and to his side, you bring both of your hands up to cup his face. “And it is a surprise – a good one!” you quickly add that last part, wanting to reassure Fives in any way possible.

A small smile tugs at his lips but Fives glances over at his horrible attempt of a pancake and disappointment clouds his face once more. “Hey,” you say softly, quickly pressing your lips to his before pulling away to look at him again “it’s the thought that counts”.

You can see the love in his eyes, his adoration for both you and the endless amount of patience you have with him. Pulling you close, Fives wraps his arms around your waist and gives you a small peck on the lips before trailing kisses along your face and up to your ear.

You giggle at the sensation, letting out a soft moan when he nips at your ear. “You sure you don’t want to try it anyways?” he asks, removing one of his arms from you and picking up the pan. You get a waft of the burnt food as Fives brings the pan closer, inspecting the catastrophe he somehow created.

“I mean, it might be edible,” he doesn’t sound very convincing “maybe it’s just well done”. With your arms around him, you bury your head in by his chest and laugh. “Yeah why don’t you bring it with you? I’m sure the General would love to have it for lunch” you call his bluff.

Fives rolls his eyes “Pretty sure they’d court martial me if I did… or they’d at least put me on sanitation for a month”.

“And you’d be the hottest ARC Trooper on sanitation” you say with a teasing smile, moving your head to peer up at him.

Fives chuckles, the vibrations warm against you. “I would be the only ARC Trooper on sanitation” he corrects you.

Placing the pan back down, his stomach grumbles, reminding you of your own need for food. “You want to try another round?” you ask, reluctantly pulling away from him and moving to the sloppy bowl of pancake batter on the kitchen counter.

You hear a low groan and Fives is quick to follow after you, his body pressing yours against the counter. Dropping his head to your shoulder, he kisses it before asking “Here or the bedroom?”.

Trying to contain a laugh, you clarify “I meant do you want to try another round of pancakes”. You can feel his body slump “Oh”.

“But…” you trail off just to tease him “if you don’t burn the next batch of pancakes then maybe you’ll get a reward”.

“Oh!” He repeats but the quick change of tone as he practically stands to attention tells you exactly how he feels about this offer. “Well then I better get cooking,” although Fives pulls away from you, he keeps one hand on your body, gently holding you as he moves back to the stove “especially since I suddenly got this new wave of motivation”. He gives the plush of your hip a squeeze before letting go, shooting you a wink.

You roll your eyes but you can’t hide the broad smile on your face “Get cooking, trooper”.

#arc trooper fives #fives clone wars #clone trooper fives #fives x you #fives x reader #arc trooper fives x reader #arc trooper fives x you #clone trooper x you #clone trooper x reader #star wars clone wars #clones wars fic #clone wars #arc trooper fives fanfic #fives

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meiluu · 1 year

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Dreamer Held Captive

Morpheus “the sandman” / Reader(female but can be read as gender neutral)

Summary: Being held captive for all your life, without freedom, without dreams. When you are able to dream one night by chance you meet a mysterious being who holds your freedom within his grasp.

Warnings: mentions of throwing up

Word count: 2,628 words

The rain pelted against the window, the dreary weather matching my current mood. Curled up in my bed using one of my many books to escape my poor reality.

Long ago I had wished to leave and explore the world outside of the confines of my home, but that had been quickly snuffed out by my parents. They had told me that a dangerous demon was waiting for me to step outside of the protection of my home, ready to take my soul into hell. I believed them so fully when I was younger but now I questioned them, ‘Why was the demon only after me?’ ‘What had I done to deserve this?’. But every single time I asked, I got told off, told that I didn't need to know such things and that I should only worry for my safety. And the times in which I had tried to rebel against their orders I was shoved into my room, locked in, and told to think of what I had done wrong and told to understand that they were just trying to protect me.

Now nearing my 20th birthday, I am tired of being kept in a cage. This place was once a place of comfort but now it only brings me loneliness and a longing to be free. To add onto my misfortunes, I've never once had a dream. I have read books that described dreams as wonderful places that your mind goes to when you are asleep, though not all of them are good but even so this was something I've never once experienced. Early on I had craved it but now I had accepted that it would never happen, maybe it had something to do with this house and the demon that is after my soul but I would probably never find out.

The sunlight that was hidden behind the clouds was starting to dim, darling the sky. Glancing up at my clock, it was nearing 8:00p.m. Usually around this time I would be having dinner but my parents had told me they would be out late running errands, this was after I had tried to ask them once again one of my many questions with which I was swifty shoved into my room and locked in. And now sleepiness and hunger gnaw at my body, the former winning. Giving into that feeling of weightlessness, I await the comforting darkness that I had been greeted with for nearly 20 years.

—

A warm light brushed against my skin, gently coaxing me to wake up, opening my eyes, my breath escapes me.

The sky is clear save for a few clouds, rolling hills filled with wildflowers and grass that seemed to be waving back at me, quickly rising to my feet taking a quick glance at myself. I was still clothed in my baggy sweatshirt with my pajama shorts, raising my head again. I took in everything.

A stream was flowing just before me, walking towards it I now see the beautifully colored fish swimming with its currents. Trees are sporadically placed throughout this meadow, inhaling the enchanting scent, somewhere in the back of my mind I had begun to realize that I was dreaming.

An emotion I hadn't felt in so long began to bubble up inside of me, a smile stretched across my face and then I was running. A laugh had burst out of my chest, the breeze seeming to encourage me to run faster pushing me forward. My hair whipped behind me, the sun keeping me warm as the grass gently caressed my feet. I couldn't put words to how I was feeling but I hope that this is what freedom felt like.

Running over a hill, reaching the top my eyes latch onto a magnificent castle, with new found vigor I continue my running pace, never once running out of breath. Slowing down as I get closer to the castle I take a moment to admire just how intricate the design of it was, but my thoughts are halted at a new presence. Quickly turning towards it, I see him.

He was ethereal looking, hair black as night, a messy crown atop his head, his eyes a piercing blue. And there he stood, regal with a long billowing obsidian colored coat that when the wind hit it just right you could almost see stars within it. He was much taller than me, having to slightly raise my head to fully take him in.

“You're here.” His voice was something so irresistible and his tone was not harsh, it seemed as if he was shocked that I was here. “Hello,” my mouth worked faster than my mind. I greeted him with a gentle smile.

His eyes roamed over me taking all of me in, my cheeks warmed, I felt a bit underdressed compared to him. “How can this be? I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

He’s been looking for me? My mind begins to race, is he the demon my parents had told me about or is this just something my mind has conjured up for myself. My mouth spilled out the words quickly, “Are you the demon after my soul?” The moment those words left my lips I regretted them, they seemed wrong. I had never met this man in my life and even if he wasn’t real it felt wrong to accuse him of all people of being a demon. His eyebrows shot up, he took a step forward closer to me. “Is that what they have told you I am? I am not a demon nor do I desire for your soul in such a way.”

“How are you here now?”

“I don’t know…I just went to sleep and I ended up here.” confusion contorts his face, he doesn’t say anything like his prompting me to try and elaborate the events before i got here. Taking a breath that had seemed to be trapped inside my chest I explained.

“Well I was locked in my room, and I was trying to stay awake so that when my parents got home I could eat. But I got tired and fell asleep… and now I'm here in my first dream talking to you.” The more I continued to talk the stranger this situation became, I had remembered reading stories about how dreams could be confusing or even terrifying but this had blown my expectation away.

Yet my thoughts were interrupted by the look that came across His gorgeous face.

His eyes held a level of realization like he just solved the world's most difficult puzzle. “So that’s how they did it, they blocked your conscience from reaching the dreaming… from reaching me.” He seemed angry, no, enraged at this discovery but none of it was aimed towards me, then a moment later the world had started to become blurry.

“No! Where are you so that I can find you!” desperation so evident in his tone, he closed the distance between us in a heartbeat grabbing onto me in such distress. My body being consumed by his own emotions, I became frantic and hastily replied. “I'm in my house, that's all I know, I've never left my home nor do I know where I am exactly. I’m sorry”. Words quickly falling out of my mouth holding nothing but sincerity. Because I truly did feel upset that I couldn't tell him more, I felt like I was disappointing him and that I was losing a chance at something so important.

His face had started to blur along with the world around us, but I recognized his hand trying to reach inside of me. It felt as if he was trying to pull on a string attached to me, I couldn't tell whether he was trying to pull me towards him or trying to pull himself towards me. But it seemed to be in vain as I had awakened back in my bedroom.

My mother was shaking me awake with such ferocity. “Why did you fall asleep without eating!” having just been woken up and angered at the fact that I had just had my very first dream and it was interrupted so quickly. I snapped “I was locked in my room, how was I supposed to eat!” I pushed her hands off of me standing up out of my bed facing my mother straight on. In a flash my father stood between us, pushing me away from my mother, both of them sharing the same look upon their faces. “Do you understand how you could’ve gotten us killed!” my fathers voice booms around us, a whirlwind of anger and fear swirls within my gut. Part of me wants to lash out, the other part just wants to run away from here, never looking back.

—

After the ‘incident’ as I’ve now begun to call it, my parents have done nothing but breath down my neck. Making sure that I ate my food, continuously checking the windows and the doors around the house and to add on they haven’t been leaving the house as often as before. Part of me wants to believe they are just being like this to punish me but in the back of my mind is telling me otherwise.

Watching them had become my newest pastime, I knew they were acting more weirdly than before. A feeling in my gut told me that they were truly doing something to me so that I couldn't dream. I didn’t want to admit it but the stranger in my dream had made me even more skeptical and weary of my parents now more than ever. And even if he wasn’t real and just something I had conjured up, my mind had created him for a reason, maybe to finally voice what I had known subconsciously. Either way I had now begun to suspect that it had to do with my food, they had stressed throughout my life how important it was to always eat my meals. And it seemed to make sense, because all of my meals had been cooked by them and if they had ever stuck something in the food I would not have been able to tell.

So I was going to do an experiment tonight, I wasn't going to eat my dinner and to see if not eating the food would make me dream or not. But this experiment wasn’t just about being able to dream, it was more so to see if my parents had been manipulating me. To test if they had or have been lying to me, and if they had then they could’ve been lying about this said ‘demon’ after my soul. And if my experiment proves this, then I have to leave this place as soon as possible.

Now I just had to figure out how to do my experiment without my parents noticing. The first thing that came to my mind was to eat my dinner then to throw it back up, that was quickly shot down. The only method I could think of was to just ‘fake eat’ and to just spit it out when I got the chance. And with no other options that I could think of, that's what I did. When dinner came around I would periodically get up to go to the bathroom, or just get up to go to the kitchen to grab something then with a moment away from my parents I would spit out the food into the trash or down the toilet. And though it felt like the minutes were moving at the pace of molasses, dinner was finally over with and I had ‘eaten’ enough food deemed reasonable, and I was sent off to my bedroom to go to bed.

With added nervousness of wondering if my experiment had worked, and the gnaw of hunger in my belly it had taken me longer than I had wanted to fall asleep.

—

I was right next to the castle when I awoke within my dream, and just as I had risen from laying down the ethereal stranger had appeared next to me. “You made it back,” his voice held so much happiness I couldn’t help but smile back at him. Then my smile falls at the realization of what my results of my little experiment meant. My parents had been feeding me something to block me from dreaming, opening up the possibilities of what else that could’ve been doing to me.

“My parents have been keeping me from dreaming with my food, there's something in it that keeps me from coming here.” my thoughts tumble out of my mouth, my face going slack at this realization. anger mars his beautiful face, he steps closer to me. Close enough to where I can smell his scent, it's comforting, it reminds me of the smell of vanilla and books. With a pale hand extended towards me looking down into my eyes, “I am going to try to pull myself into the waking world, to where you are at now.” there's a hesitant pause, “Will you let me?”

“Let you come to me? Yes… but this isn’t real, you're just a dream, something that my mind created.” a charming smirk appears upon his face. “Do you wish to find out if I am real? Real enough to free you from an unjust imprisonment?” My heart tugs at the hope of freedom, letting out a shaky breath, I reach my hand forward latching onto his, it's warm and his hold is unwavering. A tugging sensation washes over my body, similar to last time. Just as I feel his presence tug around me, his soul reaches into mine. I jolt awake in my bed gasping for breath.

And there he is, standing at the end of my bed, tall and magnificent in all of his glory. My mind is sent reeling and then the tears start to flow down my cheeks. “You're real, you're real!” springing out of the bed, into his open arms I feel a blanket of warmth engulf me. “I have you.” His voice reassuring, sobs escape my chest. I could now see a horizon in which I am free. I didn’t even care if this stranger was lying about not being a demon, I could finally see a future in which I am away from this prison. “Let me take you away from here, so that I can explain everything.”

I am saying ‘yes’ the moment those words leave his lips, in a flurry of sand we are taken away.

—

We end up, what appears to be, inside of the castle I had been seeing in my dreams. We are in a magnificent foyer, dark wood flooring with a few couches and chairs scattered around a massive fireplace with a coffee table sat in the center between the couches and the fire. Bookshelves filled to the brim with a wide variety of novels. The stranger leads me towards a couch. Sitting down I sink into the cozy cushions, then He sits down next to me, facing me straight on. Raising my head to meet his gaze, his eyes hold a level of resolve that has me straightening my back. “This may be a long story, but it's all needed for you to understand what has happened.” his voice has a level of warning in, making sure that i’m prepared for what's to come.

But I have one thing I want to know before He begins, “What's your name?” I'm a little shocked with myself for not asking him earlier but at the time it hadn't been a top priority. A soft smile greets me as he introduces himself. “I am Morpheus, Dream of the Endless.”

#morpheus fanfiction #morpheus x reader #dream of the endless #dream of the endless x reader #the sandman x reader #the sandman netflix #x reader #morpheus #lord morpheus #the sandman #happy ending #fluff #one shot #fem reader #morpheus imagines

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poebot · 1 year

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In the Heights | Well, Your Coffee’s on the House (Okay)

Usnavi is completely smitten with Vanessa. Not that that is a profound or new discovery by any means; the entire barrio has watched him stumble over his love for this girl for the better half of the twelve years he’s known her.

Sometimes he gets the sneaking suspicion that she knows and that she’s purposefully teasing him, hanging that information over his head like bait just to see how he reacts if she leans in an inch too close or looks up at him through her beautifully thick lashes at just the right moment. And then she’ll punch his shoulder in the way only a person who’s fixing you squarely in the friend zone would, walking out with a free coffee in hand and the illusion is broken once more.

There’s no way she knows. He’d hardly describe Vanessa as cruel. Sonny would probably argue differently.

“She’s playing you, cuz. You’re so obvious it’s almost gross,” Usnavi moves to pinch him for the comment but he’s quick to dodge it, anticipating it before it comes. “I’m not trying to be an ass but no girl as hot as that doesn’t know the affect they have on guys.”

Usnavi isn’t the biggest fan of the femme fatale stereotype Sonny insists on pushing onto his long term crush. It’s not like she can help being alluring. He grapples with a way to combat it, but before he can reprimand his (admittedly too old to still be getting shit for cussing) cousin for his language, the little bell for the bodega door chimes.

Sun streams in from behind Vanessa as she enters the store, whilst Usnavi vaguely considers how fitting of an entrance it was for someone as perfect as her. He glances subtly at Sonny who is staring at him with contempt as though he could read the thought forming in his mind.

“Buenas días, Usnavi.” She’s smiling softly at him as though she’s genuinely happy to see him, and Usnavi finds himself grinning ten times harder at the prospect. Sonny nudges him to remind him to stop smiling like a freak. A common result of what he dubbed ‘The Vanessa Affect’. Usnavi adjusts his lips in what he hopes is a more friendly, less serial-killer-y expression.

“Beunos días. What can I get for you, chica?” Vanessa flows around the store in search of her regular list, her long legs carrying her like she’s dancing. Usnavi had always admired the way her hips seemed to sway every time she took a step. Wondered whether she had callouses from constantly wearing platforms.

“Just these, thanks.” She drops the pain killers at his till, playing with the hem of her jean skirt as she chews her lip absently. Usnavi can tell she’s distracted, hardly present in the bodega.

“You good?” She snaps out of it quickly, staring at him with wide eyes. God help him, her eyes.

“Sorry, I’m just a little distracted. Moving and all…” Usnavi feels his chest ache at the kicked puppy expression Vanessa suddenly sports. He’s well aware that her search for new housing in a better side of Brooklyn has been relatively fruitless. He wishes he could do more, curses the part of him that’s glad she’s still here to greet him with a smile and a story from the salon every morning.

“Well, your coffee’s on the house. Think of it as a good luck charm, or a token of my support.” He’s already dusting the top of it with a sprinkle of cinnamon and bagging her ibuprofen before Vanessa can even think to protest. She slowly puts her wallet back in her purse before grabbing the drink and bag from his hands, let’s her fingers linger as she thanks him. Sonny rolls his eyes from his place stacking cans onto the beans shelf. They barely notice he’s still present in the store.

“Okay. You’re too good to me, Usnavi. I’m gonna get spoiled. I doubt they’ll give me coffee just the way I like it on the house downtown.” Her eyes have lit up again, and it’s all Usnavi could have hoped for with the gesture.

“More incentive to come back and visit us little people when you make it big.” She giggles, tucks a strand of her long dark hair behind her ear and moves for the door, turning at the last second to wave Usnavi goodbye.

As the bell chimes again with her dismissal, Sonny comments that he should probably start a dollar jar for everyday he doesn’t make an actual move. Usnavi feels far too warm inside to even feign shame.

#in the heights #usnavi de la vega #vanessa x usnavi #broadway #oneshot #fluff #lin manuel miranda

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veveebs69 · 1 year

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The Feeling of Hiraeth: Chapter Two

hiraeth ˈhɪərʌɪθ (n). a homesickness for a home to which you cannot return, a home which maybe never was; the nostalgia, the yearning, the grief for the lost of your past.

Summary: Feyre's life was finally going well. She had her children, family and happiness. But due to someone's greed and power she lost everything and was slammed back to a time were she was vulnerable, and very much human. Feyre has to do it all again to get back to the future she holds so dear but what happens when she is tempted to try to do things differently? Is that going to change the course of her entire life? Follow her as she's faced with the question that everyone wonders - "If i knew it all then would I do it again?".

A/N: Ugh this was kinda filler - rest of a/n at the end <3

______________________________________________________________ I frantically looked at the woods around me, yet nothing changed. This was it. This was happening.

I felt all of my emotions hit me at once, and I was unable to control them. I felt pain, grief, sadness and a hint of raging anger. I gagged as I continued to examine the scene in front of me. Andras limp in front me, dead. So very dead. As bile rose in my throat, I turned to throw up onto the pale snow. I felt the fat, hot tears streaming down my face. I knew damn well that I wasn't throwing up any food and that only made me feel worse.

In comparison to the fae version of myself, the body I was in now was incredibly weak and fragile. I wiped my entire face and shook my head. However in such a state, I was couldn't control my tears. So I let it consume me.

I cried and screamed so loudly that I thought I might vomit again. I cried for my children: Nyx, Celeste, and Ophelia. All of them acted as lights of my life. I love them with all of my heart. So did Rhys.

Oh gods… Rhysand .

I sobbed even more for Rhys. Along with some tears for Mor, Cassian, Azriel, and Amren. It was for all of their children that called me “Aunty Feyre”. They were for my sisters, who I saw blossom into strong, capable women.

But above all they were for me, because I had to do it all again.

The sky had begun to turn into shades of violet and honey as my crying stopped. When I eventually finished skinning the entire wolf, the sun had already set, concealed by a blanket of brilliant stars. I remembered how dangerous the woods were usually on these winter evenings. Particularly being so close to the wall.

Oh my Gods, the wall is still up. I mean it was never put back up after the war with Hybern so I wonder if it will come down again. I mean what would happen if it's not brought down? Could I even do this?

I pushed aside my scrambled thoughts as my head started to hurt and tried to concentrate on getting the doe and the hide home. Which was an extremely thankless task.

My ears were flooded by the sounds of my arguing sisters as I got closer to the old cottage that I had once called home. I ripped open the wooden door greeted firstly by the cold iron handle melting into my skin. As I slipped inside, the heat and light blinded me.

“Feyre!” The soothing sounds of Elain cut through the cottage's intense silence. My second-eldest sister was standing in front of me, yet I had trouble recognising her. Her normally long, sun-kissed hair, often left out and flowing in the air, was coiled up in a tidy bun. Typically, her figure was petite even when she was fae, but now her ribs and hunger were both evident, even underneath her dark blue dress. Elain's usual soft and rounded cheeks were hollow, flushed from the cold rather than the sun and her glowing brown eyes had dimmed drastically.

I had initially believed that it would be incredibly difficult to go back to my old ways. However, to my amazement, I was able to remember everything as Elain led me back into the house. I knew where to place my bow, my shoes, and my outer coat. Even more impressively, I was able to pretend like this was not the first time I had seen my father in more than a century and a half. In the living room's far side, Nesta and our father were gathered by the small fireplace.

I went to talk to Elain, she kept asking how long it would take me to clean the doe, even though I had just gotten back from a days worth of hunting. I refrained from showing the tiniest bit of shock I felt at Elain's words, those inconsiderate words. My father cleared his throat before he began talking about ”the absolute feast I had brought home with me”. Nesta snorted from his side when he had finished talking; it sparked the memory that during this point in Nesta’s life, anything my father had to say only fueled that fire of hate in her heart.

The remainder of the evening passed in a blur as I kept talking about how we should, or rather, how I was going to deal with the meat, so we could conserve it as best we could. However, nobody seemed to actually care, or at least cared enough to even acknowledge what I was saying. I missed my true home, where the fire never ran dim and the conversation was always plentiful and I was with people that cared for me. Can I even still call it my home if it doesn't exist anymore? Amren once told me that she had never had longing to go back to her own old world, but that she had felt hiraeth. A term from her language meaning a homesickness for a home that doesn’t exist anymore, or a home that was never was real in the first place. I think thats how I feel.

Nesta and Elain got into a pointless argument over who needed new things the most. Neither of them thinking of the possibility that I could have wanted something. I then got into an argument with Nesta about her never helping with the firewood. Nesta stated that her hands were too delicate for such a job, whereas mine were already rough. “Please get up at dawn to chop wood.” I asked for a third time, “Otherwise you will be eating a cold breakfast.” I knew my voice sounded harsh but I didn’t care, I’d had a long day. I didn't have time to deal with all this pointless garbage. These sisters were far from my family and they drained me. I hadn't waited for her to respond before I stormed off. This Nesta knew nothing of the troubles that I’ve gone through. I hadn't waited for her to respond before I stormed off.

I had forgotten how cruel my eldest sister could be. Looking at the ruins of a sister I hardly knew was difficult and I couldn’t bear it. Given that the female in front of me wasn't the sister I spoke to nearly everyday. And by speaking to me I meant we would get together, drink, eat and bitch about whatever was going on in our lives. Whenever Elain visited from the Day Court she was welcomed with open arms to our gossip sessions. Often they were the highlight of my day. Those talks. Especially since Nesta never bullshit anything, and I was able to talk to her about anything and everything. If the Nesta I knew was here right now...she might've slapped the girl in front of me. I've heard Nesta call herself (her human self) weak before and I know she tries to forget this version of herself. Nesta tries her best, this Nesta doesn’t. I could tell the difference.

I made my way to the old room that my sisters and I shared. I put on some cleaner clothing and undid my hair matted and messy braid. When I finished detangling my bat’s nest of hair, I moved my gaze over to our old dresser. The stupid three drawers with their cracking, chipping paint. I chuckled at the memory, while I could afford the paints I couldn't afford the varnish for the paint to last, so the paint was beginning to peel. On the top drawer, I had painted crackling flames for Nesta. The foreshadowing of that small detail seems so laughable now. After Nesta sacrificed her powers to save me, she eventually was given them back. Nesta's flames burned brighter than those of the autumn court, and released a dense smoke that held almost as much magic as the flames themselves. I ran my fingers along the flourishes of violets and ruby roses that I had painted for Elain on the middle drawer. Finally my fingers reached the milky swirls of stars and sky that I had painted for myself. I wondered if Rhysand could see me smiling. See my fingers trace the drawer. I closed my eyes and tried to picture him. I did my best to send feelings of warmth and hope while also sending him glimpses of the drawer of stars. As I went back out to the living room, it comforted me to think that he did see me.

Tomas Mandary was mentioned whilst my family and I had been eating our dinner. When I first heard his name, I began coughing on the piece of meat that I was chewing, earning a stare from Nesta. Sometime after Nyx was born, during one of our talks, Nesta told me I was right about Tomas, that he was abusive. And when she admitted that I was correct, my heart ached. I had never wanted my assumptions about Tomas to be correct. Since it implied that he had hurt Nesta. We wept together after she told me. Nesta continued boasting about how Clare had told her that Tomas wanted to marry her. Clare Beddor. Gods, if I had believed I might vomit before, I was bound to vomit right now. The Mothers words rang loud and clear in my head; do not change a thing She had said. However, I couldn't help but feel the urge to reverse the choice I had made. There was a lot tied to that original decision but Clare did not deserve that kind of death. It had to be changeable. I'd just have to figure out a way to do it without significantly altering the way everything else happened. Because who knows, with the wrong slip of tongue I could say my sister's name, or anybody else. I could accidentally say a name to Rhysand that I shouldn't know. Warranting his suspicion, wrecking the timeline entirely.

I mustn’t have been hiding my expression very well since I heard Nesta bite out, “Is there a problem, Feyre?”. She spat my name as an insult, my sombre expression turning to a scowl.

My father blinked and shifted in his chair. Never interrupting. I ran through my memory to try and remember how I was supposed to respond. I had forgotten the original comment.

"Well? Stop gaping like a fish.” Nesta taunted with an arch of her eyebrow.

Suddenly I remembered.

"Don't marry Tomas Mandray, no matter what. None of his sons intervene or stop his father from beating his wife. Bruises are more difficult to hide than poverty."

Nesta, Elain, and my father's eyes all widened in shock at what I said. And as soon as I finished speaking, I realised it. I wasn't supposed to say that, yet. I had said, "You can't chop wood for us, but you want to marry a woodcutter's son?," with a spiteful sarcasm on my tongue. I was meant to warn her just as I was leaving with Tamlin. Not now. Nesta opened her mouth to answer but I hurriedly fled before she could say anything.

─────────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───────────

My sisters followed me as I made my way down the path into the town centre amid the deep snow. Since the incident last night, I had not spoken to either of my sisters. That conversation was my first mistake of many. Memories were harder to forget when I was fae. My early memories of life appear to be disappearing now that I've returned to my human mind, which is obviously a concern.

Nesta kept looking in my direction, but whenever I tried to grab her eye, she turned her head back to Elain, with whom she was quietly chatting about flowers as well as other topics. Well to be perfectly honest, I had no idea what they were speaking about. The Children of the Blessed halted us as we rounded the corner towards the market entrance.

The pale-robed girl on our path exclaimed with a cheer, "May the Immortal Light shine upon you, sisters."

I bit back a groan as Nesta and Elain snapped their tongues. Perfect. Just what I needed. While my sisters were preoccupied with the girl, I snuck away from them. The young acolyte began to argue with Nesta, who was not amused. Several other women joined in, spitting insults and curses to the girl. A "faerie-loving whore" they called her. I didn't have time for this; I had to find the mercenary.

I found her perched on the edge of the cracked fountain in the town's centre. I had been cautious when I had first spoken to her. Frightened by the mercenary's visible skill and bravery. But this time I made the decision not to go forgotten. I had a plan. I went over to her. “I don’t barter goods for my services,” she began speaking, however I cut her off before she could continue.

“I’m not here to hire you, I’m here to sell.” I declared with confidence.

"Well, aren't you bold," she said with a cocked head and a smirk. "What's your name, girl?"

“Feyre.” was all I said, the conversation already changing from the original.

She mispronounced my name, saying, "Well Fre-ja, you can call me Avon." I went to respond but Avon interrupted me. "Why do you think I would want to purchase from you?"

In order to hide our chat from potential listeners, I leant my head closer to hers. "I believe I killed a faerie, and nobody else in this town would take my word for it."

Avon swept her menacing eyes over me. “How.”

Not a question, but rather a command.

When I finished explaining how I had brought the wolf down, she flicked a hand in the direction of the pelts.

"Let me see," She said as I took out both of the neatly folded hides. Avon mussed her hands over the pelt, "You weren't kidding about the wolf's size," she said. " “But what leads you to think this was a faerie, posed as a wolf? ”

"Just call it a gut instinct."

"I don't know what game you're playing or what you've heard about me in the past," she continued, moving her palm over the hide again without looking up, "but I’m not looking to take anyone under my wing.” Avon gazed up at me.

I kept the rest of my face steady while my lip twitched. Feigning disappointment.

In actuality, I was fighting the urge to smile. She reacted exactly how I needed her to. I was playing a dangerous game.

She then named her price; I blinked, feigning a conflicted look at how much she was overpaying me for the pelts.

"I'm assuming those two girls looking from across the square are your sisters," Avon said as she glanced past me. " You all have the same brassy hair and hungry look about you." I didn't need to turn around to see that my sister would have been looking directly at us.

When I made no move to respond she continued.

“You look like you need my money, and believe me the other traders have been cheap all morning,” her blunt tone contrasted with the soft smile she wore on her tanned face, "Everyone's too preoccupied by those doe-eyed fanatics bleating across the square. But the choice is yours, girl.

“Why?”

Avon made a shrug. "Once, when my family and I needed it most, someone did the same for me. It is time to pay back what's been owed.

She reached for her coin pouch, and as she counted out the pay; I questioned her.

"How long do you plan to stay in town?"

“A while…” she answered vaguely.

"Can I ask you something?"

"I believe you just did," she grinned. She offered her hand, which was dripping with silver.

I looked at her hand and then her eyes, the same melted black with varying shades of grey as the first time I had met her.

“I want you in my debt.”

Avon's hand shifted as her expression grew grim.

"You don't have to pay me as much, but if you want to do me a favour, I would prefer having someone like you when I need it most," I said. Hoping I had worded this right. Maybe my winning streak would stop here.

Her expression paused, thinking loudly.

After what seemed like forever she shook her head and said, “You can keep the money, and I’ll go into your debt. I'm sure you have your reasons and it would bring some interest into my life."

Avon turned her hand to drop the coins into my open palm. She extended her other hand over the underside of my hand, engulfing my hand between her two larger ones. Suddenly, she used her strength to pull me closer by my hands. Trapped in her grasp. “A word of advice, from one hunter to another. Keep your distance from the wall. I wouldn't go near where you were yesterday, not even close. The least of your issues would be a 'wolf' this huge. I've been hearing more and more tales about those things crossing the wall. A person like you would be devoured to pieces." Her eyes showed that she wasn’t speaking metaphorically. Avon pressed on. “No one knows what the Fae are planning, we don’t know if the High Lords’ leash on their beasts has been slipping, or if these are targeted attacks..."

I’ve heard this warning before.

She continued by describing her experience with the fatal martax, the scars she carried, and the unpredictability of the wall. While she didn't look it Avon was a kind woman, and it hurt me to see her wounds again. As she released my hands, her lips formed a tight line and I could only wish the best for her.

I pocketed the coin as I spoke,

“Thank you for the warnings.”

“Good luck.”

And that was the last of that. ______________________________________________________________

Another A/N: Hello again!! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I just wanted to clarify some things in case they weren’t clear during the fic. Feyre was 176 when she was sent back in time (meaning that it was 154 after the events of ACOSF). It's also important to keep in mind that everyone (including the inner circle, Tamlin, Eris, Kallis, etc) started having children with their respective partners. I'll try to avoid mentioning the names of the children since they don't even exist anymore. And also keep in mind that Rhysand's daughter and sister are now known by the name Celeste. I promise that won't be confusing and hope the chapter wasn’t too long…I'm trying to speed up the beginning so we can get to the goods lol

I lowkey regret doing this in the first person, my next fic im gonna do third because im giving my self the ick

goodbye my lovely <333

#acotar fix it fic #feysand #feyre x rhysand #acotar fanfiction #elain archeron #nesta #rhysand #time travel #fix it #do over #canon divergence #angst with a happy ending #pov feyre archeron #alternative universe #the cauldron #the mother #some tamlin redemption (dont sue me)#ill put more down when i think of it

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libidomechanica · 2 months

Text

In this, or a tree

A sonnet sequence

First Verse

Bore, and the gilded girl and coming on one,—and prest the earth as rough the stream hurry by in tranced dulnesse? As I came red. Now her sofa for it. What he owes tries, diaper’d worldly bust. Golden pleasaunce: all with charms their anxious hour and gave his later, help; speak to your motorcycle, afraid of a loveliness breeds that I do, Alpheus! He did prepare those than an Angel with eternity. Her features grace, they’d try it: i’ve been. In this, or a tree.

Second Verse

But wide was she never call me Papa. And, with pleasant: also had my heads indiffering at their state Come, Sleepe, who fain knows when he took, O bliss of tears thou kiss, and grief at the proud heard business is Paradise too sparkled alone; the verse rest at noon my sleep as it there be upon the Potter’s greeting to a blunder, in far away? But of me in fact twas night in my beloved, or when first time teach the leave We shall they are setting by would he rain.

Third Verse

And after their due ablution rolled round, and increase, when themselves, the kings beate were squeez’d from her own, down head; two, I’m younger than fierce; its real and with your job and calmly flowing, and bare straightway started, and betray’d her prone to make me of bread at first expound there assure you transformed by your girls. Nor knew there I lean over, but as it then was the perilous grain in thee into his woman& when some vial; treasure, brave galleries with the boggy summit ….

Fourth Verse

That they tumble, doze, revive, and sulk again with stubborn, and bondage, the Bird is not great a sad distillingly took Juanna, who do ye call Cupid pinion and briers, of sun burned to reade it is, which, in a sweet love henceforth that vanish in most thou! To call curses upon the vines have fallen moisture but in your felicitie. Of muscles go weak with mine, farewell the drops. Cried tress, when the fifteen- hundred maidenhood against the greene saye, the savour and hill!

Fifth Verse

I call, and level gleaming retrograde our round earthward business and other way, left him in a most genius for me I scarce enough for the sonne. Soft lands by my own; and, in the taste free adit; we will, and rich for that he foul failed when May and cried. And on its white till I dream, from the lattice- light and merry-winged Psyche, sorrowing home, a grace, but herself he flew, the yate fast asleep, dust into the shall be crushed with, Let us goe, while the great sports and hid her prayer, until it spills …. Beneath the river; cupid a-shooting westward upon him, depriu’d of heaved in new wonder’d till not. So as so, much needes be bare her than I have passing every sense—thy advocate—and Death!

Sixth Verse

Come hither; so Cantemir can chaunst to all the spirit they have over. Behold his wont to say some pleasure she watching self. May never passions poor thilke God, who breed swim somewhile stand information and woods. What shall weeped, and believer saw you, O ye daughters of wedlock; she look we lie, all forgiven through open its Cup be dry. Nature. But giue apt spring-days, the earth to forst fear no more than the Sunnye beame so bestadde? Of senceles tree?

Seventh Verse

Or the working throne, to fight torch, and I will take the Ladyes thine in his little flowers, from a night now are we, unlike, that God who with chains of woe? Stella euer since all these flowers are swallows what small crowd above a chaste kisse, be broken in a cure than the tide I had despised the roar even by some holy sphere. His eyes; then height, or Counsel—whereby, the garbage tub is mortal bower, trailing whisper her think so, the queers, from Lebanon. In love this?

Eighth Verse

When you that lays on ever still the greatnes of Time is compeers by night of all the last age should be a deadly feel good at my window they bring downwards it within Juan in Calcutta and with golden jewel. That was a jasmine- muffled even in death once against each shalt find it in a royal rights at me! As the the onset come corner wherever images of light. Fear we no model of yet a headlands? You so; i’ll leaves you truly love men’s No.

Ninth Verse

From hunting creatures on its good man, tall, extremely hand. He did not at the found her be the heaven in to see pearl for shade. That evermore the juicy. An offspring at you’d pinch to your child by your childe: who turned; then all soft wondrous morn? To cheered if a man called by beauty growth, is morrows? And silver press you with heavy heart lies have to habit’s power, forgets, because a foolish air that do we reade it is, how rich footsteps; no voice: cause more, hey ho the air, give me no wizardry of the fond tones and yet how fair work of yesterday’s due, of which in hand. Exclaimed her arm that I lean over this same beneath his Friendship bene dedes of pure and guide our heads reflection: but, love.

Tenth Verse

Of Perfumed with some brink? Who will worse that did the sigh’d he tore him, Life’s Liquor or aspirin. Had half- graspable, clabberable, clabberable, table, table, set upon her lips for you oil my scorn; but truth vainly Make: they see aright? So small encheason. Though to hang a trick. With stubborn counsell a thread-bare Penitence from above by them moue; if stones their chaste kiss: dudu was faithfull fringes. Of pain and Grace put for that which Amphions lyre; and terrible!

Eleventh Verse

And enlivening it, that nimble leap to kiss poyson’d their Maybush beare and the speed of wrong, downright thee, or travelling youth, a witless bliss, and silver voice as the Phrygian kings as sweet Electric blades, hey ho seely sheep-track’d I matter; and all neither way: wan was I in heart, unless these hill of praise, nor she stockade or to weep and dangled, while talk’d full widdowe beheld the breezy air; but a shadow, and ever led to shatter objects, the quarters.

Twelfth Verse

Strike athwart the stars my question mountain of elders mix my silence oft as spring; and wisdom is o’er, nor all time. The next she was born a woman’s asexual voice of your body and with no specially sultans too rare, glare, frown, but the centre through the street a Parke i’ve heart, made force were too much loud song, arose, to shine and so right to the loved each ray;—but all keep itself inside its come one half-shut, that I really plants to be a Jew. Their blaze, sees full.

Thirteenth Verse

Unborn To-morrow lend me than shepherds and Slave. Thou hast they began retreating dark and bull; but extremely common Prayer a- going! And oft wondrous morn? Head, would I know how bear think the self- same time slow time, you are these wondrous sweet self-substance, but the Future dread, and so she ascension, the eye, as her said she added, nor awake thy beauteous, so troublers of gold out and I must prouided, the ring, as she that’s be honey of thy dart! Has seized my head.

Fourteenth Verse

The mother to my beer. I thanks; there’s not fierce could not unholy her out of the brought and marvel of years they lie, all loveth: I held an ivory; thine, come, and her still tis so happy melodies are amaz’d, but right sweet virtue never her face; she bowery man has made, ylke can bear your job and choose, and shadow with stars ’light, and bred, and trust, the sleepy Venus, beneath the Spring his indeed, independent moment only. Save the swoon of this night.

Fifteenth Verse

Besides us two, i’ th’ temples beating of some Orient but visions form, dost seed, and snatch they’d try it: i’ve been bolts, and faithful Thames. Of yourself thy thirst with all it anew revive; inspired. Perhaps I was a mother of mass and on the secret Well of yet a heart their statues, borne aloft the pype playd, when thrown it, and, where the raise, and all the pins were whither? His Generation round thing is double like a swimming to upheave may return.

Sixteenth Verse

The arbour round us. And before he errant fog, the little, for the name is so brave gather and plains. And the roses at the deep below, came on, sent in Annihilates the tents. Give me that cleave it! From the Hand of charm of this poor Juanna, the first faults should not unto yon far who brooding o’er thought betwixt Egypt’s pearls bene very thing and a town of a serpent in vain is over too. Ask me not to be gone over the ladies a song forward a brother mammie’s cot, from the lies fast as it can ever come!—Devoid of pomegranates and trees be bare-limbed cheater, if that through THAT Love you got a friend, come with her gloomy arch. Against prouide for casts his own Phaëton.

Seventeenth Verse

Or got rid of thy name— ‘juanna. My beloved, and pour mightier arms, expect from me the fishpools in a slumbering gal, the hall, and bull; but exquisite. Also arose, in middle of sorrow lend the silver: and his lines above by Ensham, down, downright with the blush; the labor of God to rest. Flash to the Maids drest, if men unblest he knewe well as that. Were a princesse the memories like the shepherd vest, and And round the bloated of his Jean.

Eighteenth Verse

Where their charm of felowship, the lists, and does her spells; or their smooth pillours eare dangers convert; or else to trusting summons too; translate it inward its maimed, the scarce secure history and should be with slow dilated child on one can stop in the windows, she might it right inheritaunce: my old self. And than Pittsburgh. The might be enjoy’d, and through wilderness, the red rocks thus all amount of the woman in the find a maiden-like and mone with rolling myrrh, and touch’d.

Nineteenth Verse

In return’d the will. There the best,— a live and was not to say him not fond tones and covering in the Stab of He is as a mixture under than that my feet. Bowed, and bright-hair’d this delight, whereto the beginning against my sweetly singing in a Kirtle of the wild strong, and designed warm shadows in her hand o’er enormous amounts of vice, thus said, Saw ye bonier lass the king saw what cool as lips and did missed or mocked at they don’t tells trembled off their priefe.

Twentieth Verse

Than I cannot boast; I wash off. Thus the wind; and in silken flank’d; while they told him, and said, that test. Struggling, yet, love, t’ acquit such a scope to dauncen ech others, he loved each person, her cheek’s transformed too—that shall return, years for the different: desires, and as I am had rather skim the heard by any charms my very sybbe to me. Make me any man’s breathing was the savour then presume the affair woman. Where dead in my cryes, while their little late.

Twenty-first Verse

To cry for me in fair, wander grapes. For who the rocks, swans, and their bad tasted this sort of time he proud palace to fynd. To go to wayst, till exhales and the thorns, so that she is as Lebanon. A song of lovers did latch, her said—Why ne’er sae sweetes; let us get up early we will I take your thought! So bury me by some good glee, all see; see him—for he is all When was I to dreamless snake I brings of grain in their dwell; if change fashion of forsake.

Twenty-second Verse

Why didst make the disappear to speaking, vacant or in pensive, supporting columns drowne not false Fortune’s might between their new jubilee, where are place. Her eyes were there is goodly row between love- sick shepheard, to syringe-feed thy breast or wrong, down, by his diamond, seem to another valentinel stare aghast the Rose shall I lived, he stood with berry-juice? Be written me, liuelier than not be left your reason to those sad hungry for One whom those powders that.

Twenty-third Verse

And how he pluck; and then, steal away from dim rich wit to what poverty my love, and rising like legion’d sold my Reputation on theirs make a loth farewel to arrive withstands and plight: and lo, it is enchantress with a wayward is not what was a lass there! She gave him in pensive mood, to overslide, or veering o’er her breeding fled away. Without one; she is, voyd: and his book fell down into his own quickly: not as a continue still the place.

Twenty-fourth Verse

Thus sweep around and wished, and size, even in vain! If I, indeed— thou was port; their dream had no human she. Nor graces ligge soft tremor, a calm Dudu had never call the sun’s decline. While that over hearts as light, vpon the darkness beard the tender lighten those folkes prest, nor Dog Star was in the banks o’ Earn, as she brook the breath our rafters of the doubloon, but the fat lizard barks, a son? Should be better over heads of the find the stars. My pipe an’ drum we’ll churn.

Twenty-fifth Verse

Of flower and a thousand jutting eyes; amazement? She came out of concatenation’s straight to changed in a lock with new sorrow: who turned away—and much lesser latitude, I knew not in the revolving to get over-warmth or grown whose gown from the common love is old couch is but at my preserve the girl, who had chose twilight earth, and find all have occurr’d;— gulbeyaz stopp’d, and breast: so still when evening’s on a still I take me once was no more than once again.

Twenty-sixth Verse

A red with rolling dark moved over. Comes Sorrow—most of mass can chaunce make Carouse: divorced retir’d from the Goddess! Made my heart thou know, my Friends, what can afford no praise me thus: that erst upon his espousals, and woodland Queen, her also when all silence drew immortals he is so surely are priuie to dight, as thy broad lucendo, ’ not with her nape of his fancies like the Ruby yield trees, nor wise; the end in came up from ogling breezy air; and I proud heart.

Twenty-seventh Verse

When height with her heart a-dying. Hands do tie mee. All bashfully he might me, and arms. There is a ditty not of us—Pish! I trust the one unto white show by the bloody trial,—alas! Against my wings: and whence far away, was near: O let me melts thereof was this our light decree that happiness, my darling valentine. Artichoke but the pungent Gouda in the smaller. See the octave’s chief music of the elm-tree bright, I fix my side, will be admir’d.

Twenty-eighth Verse

Moe, do such a weightless girth, that when high. Speak to me. What, thou stink of Black bodies hanging. And turn throe the lovers to mend, to be here. At least-wise brink, without asking a Titan on the Bough puts outside of my cryes, was no tear; no, the deems a strangest in hand from the tiny infinity, and no changed round his Highness give it hungry and virgin Knowledge is comely as Jerusalem, by thy musick mard by, stood along to might I trace a feelings.

Twenty-ninth Verse

A living, and an entomologist in his labyrinth of a nearby mountains; then and the sun hath him into two hundredth consume me quite, one pulse that dandled you be: win your dwarf return would not to stombling splendour hurt is left thee thee my beard of grassy floor, tired the heaven find the pale his talke with dew; nor flowers, through a dirty rat. Whose heart, are yon spotted Lambe? In weeks dropt in a borrowe. When other for the tenderness of liberty.

Thirtieth Verse

And my bravery things I do? Maid! But when the theater, urge not further entrap in thy country of the first-born and she fling the lark over they glared upon the verse the stopp’d, and wanton meryment. Thou, O love, it was a nymph of Death madden through the shadows grim head vpheld, who now could it merits not drop of a cock and put it anew revive, and then to the Player goes; and seal’d false hart of sheepe beneath the west by the thorn, and sang the zephyr-boughs!

Thirty-first Verse

And of crystal coffee at there wan and onward fever press message sent in vain; ’tis na love is me, I file the way, not that a man can makest of wit, for none misliue in weeks dropping from Dian: so through, extremely few: I have mown. My happens, this sore party’s fire a ring of a precarious moment in no answer. But she cried, and whither, each further and new babies, as ugly as breath was fierceness bespoke, Dudu said I, bluebirds are not be.

Thirty-second Verse

Fired and fare; no palace in welth and anguist gracelesse he misbelieved my mothers of men unblest he known to clusters of gold, which is heart gone! If I might mine, no voice one deep; my gracious and now, but lacks, and that teares himself up on one chains, so ashamed of Evil—Well, among those highway home, and strong to might but in mind We shall good fledge flies; one that through deep-drawn to dust, like old photographs, and awful I love shorn, which,—taken unavailing airily; with an accents, your prime. And die But Ida spoke through the whither; but oh, alas, I burn, I shall send hid her masculine is blessing breathed thee what’s ground enmesh me, and do not contented to happy wooer, to sadde.

Thirty-third Verse

The lassie, kind and unco wae, to Shepherdess, end in—Yes—then woulde once this coyness, on her eyes these sorrowe, if from those whose rules and in thy voice, and rare. To me. Home till the rest. Stella, food on the pensive more than fierce could you think their stature of Circassia, they smil’d, and be, too eager, on he had teaz’d me evening to those eyes, outbalances which he doth glorify the could be endearing at the waits in my breast, and suddenly one good as Fort Knox.

Thirty-fourth Verse

Leaves he stops—his boyish best of the shore beloved’s, and one of a face hath Love is this bow; his Vellet her window. Not in vain! To boudoir regions, and moon in return’d to the end of racoon tongue, now had you send him run. A rosy sanctuary is violate, its smooth pine, one Moment, but the golden, or like then—i never a bower, if men departing face; whether to the prince or our very side. Faint damask mouth-deep into one shallow air?

Thirty-fifth Verse

Me evening is all you live drink! Draw me, what they soundly slept, not for long parenthesis: I could not a worth of beauty was summ’d in your might share if that rage until tis not so precipitate upon thy cause my tricking Poetry! If I may returne, whose metal woof, like to wonder endymion feeling, loue; heau’n, I trow, lintel, scarce espied: mid hushed with beauty, for such fine golden pleaseth me, a poor Katinka ask’d my Lucia but as it came we?

Thirty-sixth Verse

A chamber—nay, these toying out, an eyes: so short, or talk, of conscience given them while th’ executor to bear thy blacken’d, but amaze no more, dear the dog, and bees, meant nor weep o’er the distant dawn wounds.—Propagation. The long-drawn to heare. Beware. Spoken faith, and here were in the glen o’ green, I roam in pensive, search it in their birth; let him from that you were the gender lovely hand; and pride, that I dare not too well-guided by that, absorb’d in the smell.

Thirty-seventh Verse

And so short at the found her hyde, shee sawe the Vessels; many a Manichean. And have a tip to Lilliput, and be the musk rose up, my loue might be so lively, lordly light seems to love will the lone sparkle, and hath no idea how in thy limits strange! For our sir Iohn, to say, mought woman, and that just in the tender how— not as tyranny of the very creation round me hopped a dwarf replied he thou hadst a pain like flowers first heavenly zone.

Thirty-eighth Verse

He roses were live, supporting! But a little prospect of a captive sooth to say to Allah from whose miserable, table, clabberable. To helpe, does that every year. Expound their del’cat smell they’ve wrang’d their head from times a glittering, all the coming, measure past. The time. With Truman’s day. Sweet love of your smiles at my old lineaments of Selefkia just what any other give a dole of myrrh and faith, she is still to the broken: fear no earth; she is wrought.

Thirty-ninth Verse

Than wine: the grass, stood serene, it may be all my false Art what’s thing all the wane—and ’tis your feature, not importune thereof shall the Kidde. Since saucy jacks that would less promised to married in the breast almighty pass the Geaunt has ruffled lattices, committed to gather that put on your own, resulting fruit was sweep around the first sourse was struggles, leaves. If beneath his whistle a little are the should I leaves are the dark and been with feminine disguise with the cup of which lost as thereof may flowing it with shee thou think the morning the wholsome jellies: nor canst though it soundle near, or deed; she neede be harm’d a tumult to be for the onset comes hapless bound, and before me: thy name?

Fortieth Verse

I see the gusty deck’d her charmed! But Venus to the Seventh—the Seed of wreaths, and enlivening still welcome on in soule, I do there is no more: the sublimest of peace her kissing his window a funnel of yellow heau’nly mind. He told, the floods, ripe fruite the hare I see, how can wine. What I have sworn the Thonder, delicious torment springs; till these noblest things do or do not quell is done its shelter for thy seat by us with into gold and marrow.

Forty-first Verse

Latest with hard too. Dismantling the accord before her fair hues, nor knowing, dwelt an iron gave thy cheere, yet, in my place, one poor Katinka, and guards, till hear he wise! What wad make fault, shatter, said to myself to be. She spring courses upon the chasing stars the boat is still the wrought be better it were laid will be admired this gentle mind, the while her the Disease. Yet still charm of the least then their music, musicall: and answer’d sports and fades, unseen!

Forty-second Verse

I lookèd right recover your lowd desir’d, and sighing, I whet my beloved more nigh by the sleep with my musick mard by, stood by and glasses in flowery tale o’ love henceforth through that they all hoar, bursts gradually up to hide, by Stellaes image passes between while they sit, and what is—neither or sea short? What if I meet has dark around then he turn’d ashes and relax the air that least to yields, she looketh forth and Fate. I hear my mother’s knee, nor tears, the same film over, were friends let it stood a moment when all this den of icy pinnacles, and walk and unco wae, to the Hubbub couch of Thy mother,—not my arms and with house with the woodmen with us, some grape give reward.

Forty-third Verse

His droop, and youth asleep. Whom Juliana’s scorch the wheels of the hearing no such a Snare of all she laid by his bleeding from the turning of a hat, or rather reason that move me! Look vainly in the cry of his graves of the vine of the garden, my spirit seal; I had done if we were gone, and his Queene. Bene thereof of goats, there behind who groan moanings be, to linger on one and character’d the different men of this martial scold, the tide in liberty.

Forty-fourth Verse

Thy face has for ever can companionship to Lilliput, and blythe indifferent here, too, beats all the latch, her heard I not looks at my poor Juanna a chaunst to change from distract of all to Love in my License it is not of Passion farther. But never think thee, gentle resound of a pomegranates and joyous and I with Gin beset they moved like the common have golden keel’d, is left us rock. This later, and desolate, its quietness, Cloe.

Forty-fifth Verse

As much disposed the East, and nature rest amongst found, and so he kept an anguish into my heart was a Veil past my spouseless vow to entranced vows and feed the equivalence and Pride and blonde& when they re-enter’d new; thy voice, to assuage, if asked: Spindleshanks? But now and on he had a long ago. When was not happens, the phoenix builded girl with long to might brings were met by my own horse alone her hue change. While I am black is like to be defilde.

Forty-sixth Verse

A stranger to take he, all soft kind of life of no great Nemesis breaking; she bower, and he bid me kiss, and by the lassie be; weel ken I my ain lassie be; we’ll give and marble vaults. That none, or Wrath consuming flood of them in the other Cup to his own according the fertilize my eyes inspired, that to wood? But by thy mother wounded, friend, with gages from me again—opprest, stiles, over her sweet enforced old woman sidelong ago.

Forty-seventh Verse

The could not kills my sister, my Longing empires, and here, when thou, my muscles go weak with those darkness cry’d: and strong in your person who spat&called the keep your body beneath of Morn when I began to call driven snow. And the world and go about his sleep; for his new-born goddess of the remnant- meat just as the strangle a lass, and waylefull woo: the lily among their meant nor whom Time is blood flowers felt for it seem woe, when to gape for their sweet wearied her, or what they mark the trodden woman, which passing eyes. And my heart discourse; but whether toilet, which the whole halloos of the breath, for it already; that in the Age of dirt is in her loosed shafts so farre out by my mistake?

Forty-eighth Verse

Sunny beam thou abuse the flies as one-and-twenty times found; I took not one or thy love did find philosophise on more wreaths burning streamlet window at his Hour or two before she stole a little torn, red lonely cottage singing birds of sepulchral sites, thou be distant in the day we ran across these slopes; who kept in to flaw, or finn’d withdrew to her first- born and that works overthrow, not of the Orphane, as the village strong inside his still went up true.

Forty-ninth Verse

And in his eyeballs of the fog-born expert in English home, and grass, and lightly tread, a host, of the larks will worse o’er studded, on like Pygmalion’s kingdoms so strong in the breathing thing beams of the altar hear the love, to be romantic and tune you not spoiled in Catherine and made agree: each house a little food, to be, to his breasts like a fiend him; till have astronomy, but once spake, and dyes: a scowl is soundly she asked the others, girt in all is done. Will gulph, and comfort me fast, still aching to have no correct that are this neck seeking winter is a monster of life which the hot desperate beams of Heav’ns so often, often: after a To-morrow? For Younkers Palinode such thing.

Fiftieth Verse

For Baba’s fault, shall be both me from the deeds throw. The more will for ever trouble eyes and then the street; each station kept not how, which made jealous by this a flock, and thee. That thou?—But the vanish’d the roads of Faeries, Giaours, now wrapt in ilka grove, and more unseen the Mower mown. Her fancy free, let him enter instead of a troubled me through wildered, endymion’s claspt with you, Dudu? Or a lighten afar: for if you leave their new jubilee, who mad’st thou?

Fifty-first Verse

Sacred mother, me, these the midnight in her eye. In pink of the thrush and place that I were couch one of us have golden please the morning hand do not reproved, or purple robe he would complaint: tho creeping will forgive you left thee the lilies. Down each gardener Fancy, and wound. No one did fallen life’s offer the chaunge my real and they took away she flesh until it strange, but Right of time, and draw and she sawe that nimble leap up with madden thee; and rare.

Fifty-second Verse

A dusky quite enough for, our height, but one night me in this roof curves huge aquamarine ten times past whip, past thereof everywhere they gave it! No knows, when the whole; it feel to the song for your spirit did, with a high degree, which time me put in her obteine. Doubled sphere I saw a little hill; there is thy choir, and bare straightway, smiling to the game your hurt the warm my trembling, you keep that sang the threescore content with mealy sweetest soueraignties—these walled me from her, youngest day—when the singer, from times, which wears drop by, and he came around of change in man, tall, and keep silence dead, their arms and babes, and in elements; but, after-loss: ah, do not reason, and fourscore valiant senses?

Fifty-third Verse

Brow’s blue as the marvelled, lo! Upon her heart high-favourite honours will but maid! A slightly, who once more contain’s an island never bloody trial needs along within the splash, done that’s the red gold, along their birth; let eares did trip for fondness—I am pain’d, white and heads do come on in old days, and save, should, if you run and eclipsing even look of his past wild. No, no, I don’t agree: each seam gleam luridly. No false bonds of me, again, faintly!

Fifty-fourth Verse

The Road I was before the should be such a though buried channels where has it were, pitied hence. Myself thy mother’s sorry pages; then thee; but not so whence spirit animal and a fancies, patient sleepy eyes do not like a roe or a skimm’d for the sprang fast by the fume of her meant but be give reward it for the first, then presume the after noon, one sha’na steed in Catherine’s reign, whom vertue may some stars do not pardon these, that the ordered away: no longer given to adore in her season for thing they would like her to me! Your favourable males without the breathing, and all are not compared the smallest chick pushed with breed the ground think that ev’n my body, and by reflected her.

Fifty-fifth Verse

With simple soul loveth: I sought fair, my speeds. The voice a wild uncertain, and weep an animal and I love that of this golden brede, lay sorrow, come with her little torn, red grief at this lips are gone. Thy navel is like a cloth’s periphery pinned with love, my spit. For hear my sin, but a conceive; and to spin it recite. For endless main to walk slowly die I knew. Sometime did leaues the snow: my Italy. With old Khayyám and thee, whose principal: smooth excess?

Fifty-sixth Verse

’ The fooled themselves think) to traffic. Dead, I am his: he felt assur’d of his Powers and bouquets of splendour of Prince. Right of the faint damask mouth thou always my sire, grant men have sped, had waned from a Corner of man? And body and by the hole of grain: Love in man, to nursed NO stain’d in their aid: their mother, the air woman of existence, like a coward! My name—at length, and his right to tell, so I turned myself round this mother’s knead, an images mend.

Fifty-seventh Verse

Guest, which reconciled so the rear’d to shake? Her seraglio guess, all shield. Oft hast the throat—it fails—dear goddess of his own quickeness, and fair! Her chair, wandering fate! True, thought seem’d some gan to talk awhile! For antique hour and Agamemnon dead-heavy pressure, or kind love is a singing, can soothing? And, constellation can make a little as the man? No one summ’d in YES, and told her describe, undimm’d by any more, and as my blue throng, which is Solomon’s.

Fifty-eighth Verse

In which them dry; it seething to disappoint we can say, so do I my ain lassie, fair Lesley, the feare not knows: but, ah, his, nor cared nor sighing, as her ties; let him slayne. And with our Feet: unborn To-morrow to me as tuneful as a silly little sleeping to go; but who know the banqueting head sport of the brute blood of the dore street, tis taught me in its real as aspen leave t’ adore in the Future dread, but Juliana’s scorching myrrh, and idle Joan.

Fifty-ninth Verse

The sky prevailing, too, beats all have overcome me: to whom my beloved thee forth three: but in the burn your wall, and naiads fair, my beloved the rest of fraude: ne foreground and fall. Darling dew,—and Death music slew not hollow, a fond Phant’sie, though, if I no more. It strange case to weepe: for I bubbling love’s spicy fannings in a new- fallen, have your soothing; when have fought, incense. Make delicious pleasant fruit, and my love, the Tigris hath a most of a morning-star.

Sixtieth Verse

Then gold was not press you when our beauteous, so as so, much needes beate were to cry; for all burdenous, but mingle good night night to pay the rain shop windows, were a pair who for There I learn to die. Time is my beloved; but the breathing thee; and a beggar before than our ain sweet could never head against you me eternal day; and in the seraglio title, gem, and meek that bring more divine, and was near: O punisht eye shining the cloud of Albany.

Sixty-first Verse

For ever the lives’ my familiar Juice, mething to disfranchise desire still the doors we have fountain-source or pale, with loved. Think to call it flowers my sigh’d, and now it; taunt mine ear, if he charge, wherein I should do not means, to you might it takes all them. In the core; that in twaine, and therefore small causes, and the Apes folish air that holds her songs that I have was a soul began, as on to kiss in such a jocund you truly love’s house, and then fancy into.

Sixty-second Verse

It were, to gather’s despite. Thy proudly echoing, Come! She offended died. Visible, nor bright, with her and in your goodly vessels; many a maiden passion o’erthrows the through that was a Georgians might: a maiden-head. Desires. Of what was still he came upon a shields and thee, how I should be so deep abyss, it may brag we have made themselves, the marke in solitary moan—and waive the maxim for it can’t trust they were it her rising did yeeld; more call?

Sixty-third Verse

All bare the forth, the long wintersection prove, for long for what thou hear my very little space, and in element of my soul began to be admire echoing from my soul, whate’er the midst a gold-tinted light, thought, is it not set about my Lover which Baba vanish’d, less is no child cross into thine own bought before was a warm and listens, stood the nightingale, whose through waters and Sopps in her own arms roundelay. Both me did prove the joint is frenzy insufficient but vision and many a kiss, and wailed its minstrelsy, and, having soft and sound! Labyrinth of life: thus most infernall night nightly dances which is natural rest, nor ever deep profound for thy for mayde delight.

Sixty-fourth Verse

From the clover-sward, suddenly and to costume. Was never he had endure one of the while other poem written mazer ywrought his Eyes may look into the Kidd pittying at that go about my place for this tongue—lute-breath was fiery fly from my son: I tell mama wearied, I know the past wild. When he sets, by degrees, leans sometimes refigures come as a casement and bow and applies saline dominion and the golden butter. Fling his wearied each doorways are strife, that I am calling dark around in midst of modest seed, and, fall breathed hornes did often with voice doth pointing gust any one beareth twins. ’Mong lilies for being from running Time haste, my head, four likes.

Sixty-fifth Verse

Her face the Vestal entry shrink. Thus much loud meander what shadows danced; but far bespreading at the same way to illumine; but a cousin tumble, doze, revive, dear ruin or with grayish leaves we first, one know her straight to care sweet friend thyself corrupting, among there invention quickly: not as a flock of gossamer your virtue kept in a shield, and folds— not his friend or God to refer to. Accuse my latest beauty be true, that her dress his Embleme.

Sixty-sixth Verse

—This is human life’s heart a-dying. Immortal Sovranty—think of this is not yshend you relax Pluto’s brow with every turn, that their own its strategy? And the cowslip-water from thy state are humble princely Grace, this lethal. Oh, Thou, who is agonized head; ere be griefe, with simple call Thee to tread with them while thee with his fairy tail from buried once, Men wander of Guebres, Giue me sayd, be slowly—paced on thine eyes can iudge to be love you live drink!

Sixty-seventh Verse

For the fourth, and from the ages, which grace, but rather mouth is for my beloved’s, and smell. Was drunken said I although her flood is means blisse, as belly is as a space, and one hand here, lighten afar: for oft, when frozen rill, and impulse. And tossing by a shadow of thy sweet unrest, and but of fraude: ne for love and edifying towering among their future heir. With bereave my soule up the rocks nearby mountain’d canopies, spangled up to fall to South.

Sixty-eighth Verse

His eyes may call, lay it, your house, with immerse and Thou or I. Than this shepheards fall in her nape of mine, in each them but love, beneath the light, by spirit of pearls, and to Jupiter: and if thou now flock of sobs began to me in the just ask charity to foot, Philoctetes in woman like Autumne plums ready by the carelesse night. Life, and take delicatest fear such fond Phant’sie, they sit, and thrushes coolly to think, do all the daughter, and ’gan to plains.

Sixty-ninth Verse

To see her interests, which mads they about his day, so sweet solitary felt assur’d of happy me! We know when to depart; alas, and how painfully upon thyself dost taste. I have talk’d a dame of any spirit to rue the vile daily couch is thy affairs of watchmen starlight, even should be sparrow, to learn, nor some suddenly one briefe there by one be pure, how long to might seem woe, bene the hole—The voice singing: Today neither prone to come!

Seventieth Verse

More nearer name, except his head. My horses pull the Koran. Ah, when first releases that Life has a wart. The Power, trailing waves, nor feelings, which them shot by rude nettle-briar, cheats and oak leaves with not thou? No more, till safe therefore in the priefe. A noisy nothing, and then the bride in the door beans and when the Hunter’s Daughter fair, my Little thine hear it, O Thyrsis, still to end. Than when the merchant, to paintersection, like one unto me yon spotted eggs.

Seventy-first Verse

With Predestiniest birds, O beloved, and a wanton naigies that in a decent persona I’ve made are priuie to the deems a strange, and mower both our sound ys significence, she look’dst thou hast thy wit, and natural rest, her god, when thin, that goeth down she scroll is folk, this limbs are hill, and only joyes above. Yet strengthened dearths, or whether toilets—and those of it: with all hem remayne, to his complicate-handed the shore, down-looking hands, who lent his hopes these arms?

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #198 texts #sonnet sequence

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m58 · 1 year

Text

new poems from Morgan Francis

from farm gate lean listening for bleat cough bark he’d walking stick to their call make little or no remark

in snow buried days he knew where to search spade out dig in shawl foster lanolin rubbed off on him

at his funeral i had no language for the blitz of death

a theatre of hills became cemetery where men from nowhere to be seen crowded in song breach

an immaculate sky unfenced

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dear cliff when you phoned i was filling my fountain pen in bed wanted to scribble notes of a dream

something like this

heavenly golden ribbon in flow out of the top of my head streaming into all mighty wherever

thoughtlessly i gave it a couple of whacks with a silver sword thing eyes tight shut was no feeling of severance

jolting wide awake from the phone noise thing i reached for a pad to write on as well as phone and ended up with ink on my nose from wiping nib with the paper sneezing at the same time

wasn’t an important dream glad you called friday half past seven is fine

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

never met her really once twice perhaps even though we grew up with in an also mile

somebody said in a pub that’s Olwen over by there

statue lovely everything about her shoulders was stillness

female pharaoh men ached to lounge about her body garden

see her at night in front of the fireplace happy as a rag mat on the kitchen floor

red cheeks anthracite aglow hairdresser curls perfect

in spite of everyone who loved her she still left early

perhaps because of them i only watched

just say to myself now and again Olwen Flowers know where she’s buried

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day wide sleep elm trunks enormous my walk pass lost as a misunderstood city

heel drag in clueless search for your never far away

leaf prints among sound corners of beyond mislead into giddy escape i thought you lost

people made neither noise nor greeting silence led to you

stranger me at guest edge festival then a rush towards nothing and blue light

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word fruit letters into awakening as shire flow hay seed column slants hail wait silence of never cease

or pin centre still subaltern wheels pass day after day pass on cycle rest sky peel

and of my trespass say there is better keep greater than joy radiant beyond fold or fall

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baking sun bread ovens on banked straw as beauty yeasts an hour

soundless except for wind company walking every stem and ear

clay yellow fingers stream a banked direction

slippage and song silence contend in open drowse leave me here whispers

fallen stones stray as thought asleep in decibel surrender

where the plateau drops at its first edge there was a boulder punched with rows of careful now empty as diamonds

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

tip fingers touch new tenderness in unfolding abode

you give such love more than can be known to kiss me home

there’s already a pile of knitwear for you to outgrow

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night silent purples glow impossible floatation i remember cave and sesame when we sat on a hill you had goodbye about you spelling heaven and earth abandon my day window sills an unlocking of yellow buttercups

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under black straw hat kindness aged hair white with faith features shining religion are you saved she demanded certain that my answer would be in step with her persuasion i was targeted for the flock

knowing my reply would disappoint yet wishing to show respect my hesitation leaned to both sides i don’t know mrs davies i mumbled i’m not sure really her features erupted red eyes bawled into my silence from a face bereaved of charity

this happened by the bus stop luckily one arrived

sorry i’ve got to go i said jumping on last to get off at the next stop down and walk back home

on that road a boy became Odysseus

Morgan Francis lives in Cardiff. His collections include: The Sun Lights and the Sun Shades, Holiness of Clay, Selected Poems and Donkey Jacket.

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majestyeverlasting · 3 years

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Hi! Can you write prompts 17 & 49 with Bucky x reader, please? Any Bucky you want!

♡ Hello! Thank you so much for sending this request in! I decided to go with dad Bucky since I haven't written for him in a little bit. Which means you guys get to see Jamie (8) and Eden (7), who are in my other dad Bucky stories. This fic in particular happens to be pretty classic in the sense that it follows a relaxed morning. But of course I had to add my own special touches. It's very intimate and cute, and the Barnes family ends up making breakfast together. By the end, Bucky and the reader share a soft moment in which they realize how fortunate they are. Enjoy!

♡ Prompt 17: “Oh, so you are ticklish.”

♡ Prompt 49: “I’ve never noticed these freckles on your back.”

Mornings Like These

Saturday morning brought the sweet sound of laughter to your bedroom, genuine and carefree. It was distant at first, flowing from wherever the children were. There was hardly any light streaming into the room, which meant the sky outside was likely a dusty blue with hints of pink as the sun continued to rise. Surely others were still wrapped in the embrace of sleep.

With a soft sigh, you moved closer to Bucky and nuzzled into the warmth of his chest. A hum rose from his throat when your lips puckered to his skin in a featherlight kiss.

But it wasn't long before the most gentle series of knocks sounded from the other side of the door. Almost rhythmic. Whispers and giggles emerged shortly after. Bucky’s chest shook with a chuckle as a smile budded across your face.

“They’re such early birds,” you murmured, kissing his skin a couple more times, lazily. “Maybe they’ll go away if we don’t say anything,” you joked lightheartedly.

His voice was deeper from sleep when he drawled, “Knowing them, they’d come in regardless.” You laughed into him at those words, and more knocks arose.

“Come in!” You eventually called out.

As soon as Jamie and Eden peeked into the room, neither you nor Bucky could deny that it felt good to see their faces—despite how early it was. They wore toothy, loving smiles as they walked to the foot of the bed, still clad in their adorable pajamas. Neither crawled up to join you two, but they placed their hands on the mattress as if they were considering.

“Morning,” Bucky greeted through a stifled yawn.

“G’morning,” they said in unison.

“How’d you guys sleep?” You asked.

“Good,” Jamie chirped.

“Yeah, good,” Eden seconded. “We have an idea.” She then looked to her brother for him to continue.

“We were thinking that today would be a good day for all of us to make breakfast together. We haven’t done it in a while, and I think it’d be really fun.” There was a hopeful sparkle in his eyes. “So maybe that’s something we can do when everyone’s more awake.” He ran a hand through his hair. It was getting longer.

His words rang true—it had been a while. “You know what, I like that idea,” you said.

Bucky smiled. “Me too.”

That’s when they finally climbed up into the bed, uttering exclamations of excitement. They wriggled their small bodies between you and Bucky, and all you could do was allow your heart to feel full. The room seemed all the brighter with them in it, you realized. And the sweet laughter that once danced somewhere off in hallways had found its way to you.

That same energy is what later brought the kitchen to life as the four of you moved throughout it to bring breakfast into fruition.

The scent of turkey bacon lingered in the air as cooked in the oven. It mingled with the scent of the eggs you stood scrambling at the stovetop. Bucky was at the counter cutting different fruits. Jamie and Eden were in charge of toasting the waffles. As they waited for them to pop, they switched between standing at you and Bucky’s sides.

A smile came to your face when Jamie wrapped an arm around your waist and released a content sigh. “You wanna stir them around a bit?” You offered, running a hand through his hair. “They’re almost done.” It was endearing how gladly took the small spatula from you. It was as if he was proud to.

Every day, he was slipping further away from the little boy you used to coddle in your arms. He was helpful, reserved, and kind—so much of what you saw in Bucky in many regards. And Eden was blossoming into her own personality as well, always managing to shift whatever room she entered.

She happened to be over near Bucky, ushering pieces of the strawberries he was cutting into her mouth. With a fond shake of his head, he let her. However, the dramatic way she hummed in approval of the taste made him roll his eyes.

Then she wandered around to stand behind him, ever curious and in pursuit of something new. “Daddy, I’ve never noticed these freckles on your back,” she said, reaching up to poke where they were on his shoulder blade. Bucky made a sound of acknowledgment but remained focussed on cutting.

It became evident that she was trying to get a reaction out of him when she giggled and kept poking him. That’s when he shot a quick look back at her. She quickly folded her hands to make it appear as though she hadn’t been doing anything.

Nevertheless, Bucky tapped her nose. “Quit it,” he said. She continued as soon as his back faced her again. The whole exchange made you smile.

He turned around and pointed a finger at her. “Don’t make the tickle monster get you, sunshine.”

“Too bad I’m not ticklish anymore,” she claimed as confidently she could manage. It was a harmless lie tinged with amusement. As he looked down into her eyes, he was reminded of yours.

“Is that right?” Bucky swiftly scooped her up with his vibranium arm, and all it took was a couple of pinches to her sides to have her squirming and trying to push his hand away.

“Okay!” She squealed. “That tickles, that tickles!”

“Oh, so you are ticklish?” He relented and pressed a kiss to her temple as residual giggles left her. “Who would’ve thought?” She gave him a playful pout when he set her back down, but it didn’t last for long.

Because soon enough, it was time for everything and one to be gathered at the kitchen table. There was sunlight coating the room and the food smelled divine. For a moment, the chatter that once existed subsided as everyone took the first few bites. Upon glancing around, you were struck with a rush of joy. You could feel it kindling within your chest. Bucky caught your gaze from across the table and winked.

You weren’t sure how yet, but you were going to make sure that more mornings like that came to be.

“We should do this more often,” Jamie said as if reading your mind.

“We will,” Bucky promised.

You nodded. “We most definitely will.”

With that, the four of you continued eating and talking, and it seemed as though it’d go on forever. But it didn’t. Plates were cleaned, final stories were told, and last-minute jokes were uttered. And you felt full not because of the food, but because of how happy each of them made you.

When you found yourself washing dishes at the sink, the entirety of the morning was on repeat in your mind.

Bucky came up behind you and kissed your neck in a way that made you want to melt. The scratch of his beard sent shivers swirling down your spine. You could feel him smile against your skin as his arms secured around his waist. The kids’ voices carried from where they’d retreated to in the playroom. Neither of you said anything to each other, he simply held you as you moved to clean the last of the dishes.

Bucky was the first to speak, voice filled with honest consideration, “Sometimes I think I have a grasp on how fortunate I am. But then mornings like these come along and I’m convinced I don’t even know the half of it.” He let his chin rest on your shoulder.

“You and me both,” you breathed.

Thanks for reading! More fluffy Bucky stuff here.

#bucky barnes #bucky fluff #dad bucky #dad!bucky x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes imagine #sebastian stan #winter soldier #tfaws bucky #marvel #marvel fic

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banamaak · 1 year

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when my life was nothing more than the tick tock of the wall clock, i knew i must, i must, i must love insanely.

— azadeh heidari (3/?)

i. heiran (2009) dir. shalizeh arefpour // ii. through heaven’s eyes, brian stokes mitchell // iii. gabbeh (1996) dir. mohsen makhmalbaf // iv. divan i shams, rumi // v. iftar (breaking fast) (2020) dir. mike mosallam // vi. reddit thread by user beezle // vii. the breadwinner (2017) dir. nora twomey // viii. adonis, beginnings of the body, ends of the sea, trans. khaled mattawa // ix. about elly (2009) dir. asghar farhadi // x. the gift, hafez // xi. window, forugh farrokhzad

#✷ I WILL GREET THE SUN AGAIN; GREET THE STREAM THAT ONCE FLOWED IN ME — STUDY.#ok a more lighthearted one after all the depressing edgy shit jdjjdfjfdjkfsdjkdf #theme for this is azadeh's view on love (obv) and how she expresses it!!#she does indeed love insanely :))#she can definitely be cruel but also so warm and affectionate when it comes to the right ppl #she's a walking contradiction and we love that!!#i knew i shouldn't have capped myself off at 3 of these bc now i want to make more lol #next one will probably be on azadeh and religion! funsies :]#also i think it's very iconic that rumi technically shows up twice on here #ifykyk

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dreamerstreamer · 3 years

Text

Somewhere Only We Know

Pairing: god!Dream / DreamXD x gn!reader

Summary: [Reincarnation!AU & Dream SMP!AU] Being a god can be especially lonely—Dream knows that better than anyone. Yet somehow, you always manage to find your way back to him in every life you live. If only it didn’t hurt so much to love you.

Warnings: tw// mention of death

Word Count: 5.6k

A/N: requested by the lovely 🤡 anon, who asked for a piece based on keane’s somewhere only we know! i got rather carried away when writing this, and it’s certainly quite sad, but i hope you all enjoy it! <3

Dream blinks lazily up at the fluffy clouds drifting across the cerulean sky, his emerald eyes tracing over their soft edges. He hums to himself as one of them drifts in front of the sun, the warm light suddenly leaving his face. Frowning, he sits up a little straighter, raising his arm above his head. He snaps his fingers once, and in an instant, the clouds vanish. Warmth floods his cheeks as the sun’s brilliant rays crash over him once more. He smiles, but it’s melancholic, a forlorn look passing over his face.

Just how long has he been alone like this?

Sighing, he rises to his feet, kicking at the soft dirt beneath the soles of his boots. His viridian cloak is light atop his shoulders, his wings neatly folded underneath the soft fabric. Above his head, his halos glow with a dazzling golden hue, sending beams of amber light flashing across the nearby tree trunks. Rolling his neck, he snaps his fingers again, and his wings and halos vanish in a flash. Just like that, the weight on his back dissipates, and his lips twitch. There—that’s much lighter.

His gaze flickers over to the waterfall lying just a yard away, rushing ripples of water streaming down the short cliff face and into the pool lying at its base. He crouches down next to the small pond, brushing his hand over the soft soil beneath his feet. Sparks shoot up his arm and into his fingertips, the earth suddenly bursting to life underneath his touch.

All of a sudden, a blossom sprouts from the ground, soft and pink as it unfurls its petals and soaks up the warm sunshine. Dream grins as row after row of flowers shoot up from the ground, circling around the pond and lining the trees around the clearing until suddenly, the whole space is surrounded by breathtaking blossoms. He stands back with a satisfied hum, glancing around himself with an almost nostalgic gleam in his gaze.

It’s been ages since he last returned to this little alcove in his favourite forest. He could tell no one else had stepped foot here except for him, too. After all, there was only one other person who knew about this place—the only other person in the world he knew would be able to find it in the first place.

Had it been decades or centuries since he last visited? He’s not sure anymore, but really, he’s not sure if he cares, either. There’s a reason why he doesn’t come back here very often—one that he hesitates to even think about.

It’s far too painful of a memory to relive.

“Hello?”

Dream freezes, his eyes going wide at the sound of a new voice—a familiar voice. Slowly, he turns, his lips parting in awe as he sees a figure stepping into the clearing, a mix of caution and curiosity flitting across your cheeks.

He knows that face—knows you.

His heart aches at the thought.

“Hi,” he manages after a long moment, swallowing ever so slightly.

You flash him a sheepish smile, lowering your gaze to the ground almost bashfully as you brush a stray leaf off your shoulder. “I’m sorry if I’m intruding, or anything. I was just passing by when I saw the flowers, and thought they looked really pretty, and...”

You trail off, your voice growing smaller and smaller until it fades off into silence. Dream stares at you, unmoving as his heart races a mile a minute in his chest, battering against his rib cage as your timid gaze flickers to his.

“I, um,” you squeak out, feeling the intensity of his eyes on yours. “I can go if you wa—”

“No,” Dream suddenly blurts, the word flying out of his mouth before he can stop himself. He can already feel the heat flooding his chest at the way you startle in front of him, and he sucks in a breath.

“Wait,” he says, calmer this time. “Please, I—you’re not intruding at all. You can stay.” He takes a shaky step forward, offering you a crooked yet earnest smile. “I’d love it if you stayed.”

In an instant, your face lights up, and his breath hitches in his throat at the sight. “O-Oh, thank you! It’s nice to meet you. My name’s [Y/N].”

In that moment, he could have sworn his heart stopped and would never beat, again. “What’s yours?” you ask, your eyes shining like freshly cut gemstones.

His eyes scan your face for a moment, taking in the soft panes of your cheeks and the delicate curve of your lips as your smile leaves tiny cuts in his lungs.

“Dream,” he breathes at last. “Call me Dream.”

Suddenly, your eyes curve into tiny crescent moons as you grin at him, and he feels the loneliness flowing through his veins subside the tiniest bit.

Even after all this time, he still can’t bring himself to forget your smile.

Dream hums to himself as he tosses a pebble into the pond from his spot on the fallen tree log. The stream laps at the stone once before swallowing it whole, letting it sink to the murky bottom without so much as a splash. A rustle comes from behind him, and he immediately whirls, his lips curling up into an eager smile.

“[Y/N],” he chirps, bright and keen, “welcome back.”

Your glowing face greets him in return, and he nearly combusts on the spot. He still remembers the way you had promised him you would return to see him again a week ago, when you had first stumbled upon his clearing. His head still spins at the thought, and it almost makes him forget the longing ache that sinks into his bones when his gaze lingers on you for a fraction too long.

Almost.

You wave at him as you jump over a protruding tree root, crinkles forming at the corners of your eyes. “Good morning, Dream! What are you doing here so early? The market only just opened.”

He shuffles over on the log to give you room, raising an eyebrow at you. “I could ask the same of you.”

Crouching over, you settle down onto the space next to him, not at all noticing the way he stiffens when your thigh brushes against his. “I woke up early to watch the sunrise,” you say with a half-drowsy smile.

There is a beat of silence, then Dream tilts his head at you. “The sunrise?”

You bob your head, turning to look at him. “Yeah,” you murmur wistfully, raising your arm to wave your hand up at the sky above. “I love watching all the pretty colours fill the horizon. It only lasts a few minutes, but it’s so magnificent, and I always try to watch them if I can.”

His eyes flash as he takes in your gentle expression. Then, he opens his mouth, thoughtful and slow. “Sunrises, hm? What other things do you like?”

You pause for a moment. “Other things I like?” When he nods, you hum, averting your gaze from his until you find yourself staring over at the bubbling waterfall.

“I like... I like flowers,” you begin, “but you already knew that.” He chuckles at the hint of a smile that dusts your face before you continue. “I like exploring the market every Saturday, too. They always have something new to find.”

Suddenly, your eyes flicker to life, glittering with excitement. “Oh, I also like stargazing! It’s like watching the universe paint a picture with little crystals every night, and something about looking up at the sky makes me feel so small, and I... I...” You gesture vaguely, a frustrated noise escaping your throat. “I don’t know. I just like it.”

Dream cannot help the way his heart melts in his chest at the sound you make, a certain fondness seeping into his soul. You were always so endearing—always, always, always.

“What about you, Dream?” you say suddenly, looking at him curiously. “What things do you like?”

Dream blinks at you—once, twice. Suddenly, his mind is flooded with image after image, memory after memory.

He thinks of the millennia he has lived through, the cities he has watched rise and fall. He thinks of the countless distances he has wandered, travelling far and wide with a heavy loneliness hanging in his barren heart. He thinks of soft kisses pressed to calloused fingertips and fluttering eyelids.

Then, he looks at you, with your enraptured eyes and your glorious grin.

“You,” he says, sincerity gracing his every word. “I like spending time with you.”

He watches as you stammer in reply, your eyes going wide as you gape at him in a mixture of embarrassment and flattery. He laughs at you, and his heart swells in his chest.

He’s missed you—more than you would ever know.

“Say, Dream, have you ever seen the ocean?”

The sun glares harshly into your eyes from where you lie on the earth, staring up at the cobalt sky, but Dream hardly notices—his eyes are too focused on you. “I have,” he murmurs as his gaze traces over the bridge of your nose in wonder. He’s seen more of the world than he would like to admit. After all, he was the one who created it in the first place. But to you, he’s just a simple traveler with a penchant for waterfalls.

Before he can even register it, you’ve bolted upright, bending over him with an excited shout. “Really?! What’s it like?”

He jolts at the sudden movement, all too keenly aware of how close your face is to his before his shuffles into a sitting position, resting his chin on his hand. “Well,” he begins, “it’s really big. So big that you can’t see the shore on the other side no matter how hard you try. It’s blue as far as the eye can see, and the breeze kind of tastes salty if you open your mouth.”

He catches a flash of your awed expression as he waves his arm in front of him to illustrate the vast size of the ocean. “The water,” he continues, envisioning the waves as they crash onto the sand, “is nice and cold, and if you swim deep enough, you might find fish and coral. It’s relaxing to watch the tide come up into the beach. Sometimes, shells wash up onto the shore, too. You can keep those as little souvenirs.”

For a moment, you are silent as you simply stare at him, something swirling deep within your gaze. “Wow,” you say at last, sounding completely breathless. “That sounds beautiful.” You stretch your legs out in front of you, your fingers curling into the grass spread beneath your palms. “My best friend says there’s mermaids in the ocean.” You scrunch your nose. “I don’t know if I believe him, though.”

Something dark ripples through Dream, and the tiniest of frowns passes over his face. “Your best friend?” he parrots.

You nod. “Yeah—his name’s Karl. He’s really nice and likes to goof off a lot. He’s also a really good storyteller!” You look at him then, fondly and with such a kind look it almost knocks Dream right over. “I think you might like his stories.”

His lips quirk up into a coy smile, and he leans ever so slightly forward. “Would I, now?” he croons, a teasing lilt tinting his tone. “What kind of stories does he like to tell?”

You clasp your hands together, excitement brimming in your face. “Oh, wonderful ones! There’s the one about the sleepy fox, the one about the pig who could not be killed, and the one about how we all face reincarnation after death, but my favourite,” you murmur, “is about the creation of the world.”

Dream goes still at that, his smile faltering for a split second. “How does that one go?” he asks softly.

You scoot the tiniest bit closer to his side, your gaze lowering ever so slightly. “Once upon a time,” you start, your voice as smooth as velvet, “a god descended from the heavens and carved the world into the shape it is today.” You traced your finger along the soft dirt. “He made valleys and hills, oceans and rivers, decorating the land with flowers and trees. The world he made was beautiful, but it was lonely, so he filled it with people to keep him company. He was so full of joy to have friends, until one day, he fell in love.”

Your demeanour, which had been cheerful up until this point, suddenly shifted, darkening as you let out a sigh. “He fell in love so quickly and so deeply that he was blind to the nature of his own creations, as they had a mortal lifespan, unlike him. When his lover died, a part of his soul died with them. He vanished after that, never to be seen again.” You curl your knees to your chest, resting your head upon them. “Some people say he wanders the world, mourning for all of eternity. Others say he died of heartbreak. Even fewer believe that his lover lives on and he loves them still, although they’re not entirely sure. Either way, he has yet to appear, and humanity quietly awaits for his return.”

Dream is silent beside you, his lips pressed into a thin line as his chest rises and falls with the timing of his breaths. “Why is that story your favourite?” he finally asks.

You lift your head, surprise shooting across your face. “I’m not sure,” you say softly, pondering for a moment. “I just think he sounds so... sad. It’s a tragedy, what happened to him. He only wanted to not be alone anymore.” Your voice drops even lower. “He only ever wanted to love someone.”

An ache suddenly expands within his gut, digging into his sides of his skull with such ferocity he fears he may never escape it. That same, fleeting sense of solitude slinks around his lungs, squeezing and squeezing until your eyes lock into his, and they halt.

“Do you think that he lives on?” you whisper, your gaze searching his. “That he might have found someone else to keep him company, despite his sadness?”

You pause, something like hope sparking within your eyes. “Do you think... he ever loved again?”

Dream stares at you, and stares at you, and stares at you. Your lips are right there, are so dreadfully close to him as he looks at you, feeling the blood pound through his ears as the pain in his heart begins to lift. It rises higher and higher within him before sliding off his shoulders entirely, leaving nothing behind but tender affection and warmth—a warmth he had been yearning for for so, so long.

He smiles at you then, and for once, this one is real.

“Something tells me he did.”

Dream stretches his wings out behind him with a quiet groan, feeling the cool air ruffle his ivory white feathers. His cloak sits on the ground next to him while his golden halos spin rapidly atop his head from where they float, glowing faintly in the fading evening light. After a moment, he lets his wings fold back up against his back, lowering his arms with a sharp exhale. In the distance, he catches a glimpse of the setting sun just before it dips below the horizon, shrouding the world in darkness. With a bored look, he picks at his nail, curling his toes in his shoes.

He’s already waved you off and watched as you wove your way out of the clearing and between the forest’s tangled trees back to your village. Now, he has nothing left to do but wait for your return the next day, his throat aching for your arrival with every passing second.

How far I have fallen, he thinks distantly to himself, to be reduced to nothing more than a helpless admirer for a human.

A moment passes, and his heart sighs.

A lovely human, at that.

All of a sudden, he hears a stick snap behind him, and Dream immediately snaps his fingers, his wings and halos disappearing in a flash, almost as if they had never existed to begin with. Whipping around on his heel, he narrows his eyes at the clearing entrance, jaw clenched in preparation. His shoulders are raised at his side, tense with anticipation when just then...

...you stumble out of the forest, tears streaking down your face.

Dream’s shoulders fall in an instant.

“Dream,” you choke out, your voice cracking sharply.

You don’t even get the chance to open your mouth again before he’s standing in front of you, his hands gripping your shoulders as gently as he can manage. His eyes scan your face as his stomach churns with agony at the despair painted onto your features. “[Y/N],” he murmurs softly, “what’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

You sniffle, lifting your head to look at him through watery eyes as you open your mouth. “Karl—he’s sick. Really sick,” you babble like a winding stream. “The doctor doesn’t know what’s wrong with him, and he’s been coughing so badly that you can just tell he’s in pain. At this rate, I—I’m scared he’s not going to get any better. He... I’ve known him since forever, and I—”

The words die in your mouth as you cut yourself off with a broken sob, and Dream almost feels as though he’s been stabbed in the gut. He never wants to see you in pain, to see you as sad as this, and the fact that you are sobbing at all makes him want to wail himself.

Softly, he wraps his arms around you, pressing you close to your chest as he rocks you gently back and forth with your head resting on his shoulder. Your tears soak his shirt, but he doesn’t mind one bit. “Shh, [Y/N],” he coos quietly. “It’s going to be okay.”

You pull back with a wary gaze, fear etched into your features. “How do you know that?” you whisper. “What if he doesn’t get better? What then?”

Dropping one arm from behind you, Dream slips a hand into his pocket, quickly rubbing his fingers together. Just like that, cool glass that wasn’t there a moment earlier presses against the warmth of his palm, and he pulls out a vial filled with a pale, rosy liquid.

“Here,” he says, pressing the vial into your hand. “This is an antidote I’ve been...” He pauses for a split second, then fibs. “...holding onto for a while. For emergencies.” Slowly, he clasps your fingers until they’re closed around the glass top, sending you a reassuring smile. “Give this to Karl, and I promise you he’ll recover.”

You blink at him, your eyes glimmering underneath the light of the swirling stars overhead. “You swear?” you ask meekly, hope dancing along the edge of your lashes.

Dream swallows thickly and nods. “On my life.”

You inhale a deep, shuddering breath, then raise your hand to wipe at your eyes before smiling at him, warm and full of affection. “Okay,” you murmur as you step back from him. “I trust you, Dream.”

The next morning, you come tumbling into Dream’s arms with a gleeful cry, tears flowing freely down your face as you knock him to the ground. This time, they’re there for an entirely different reason as you ramble about Karl’s cleared airways when the doctor came to check on him after you fed him the antidote.

Beneath you, Dream relishes in the warmth of your body against his, praying you cannot feel the way his heart hammers against his chest.

There were not enough words in the world that he could use to describe how deep his devotion to you ran.

He fears there may never be enough.

Months pass in a blur, and Dream watches with knowing eyes as summer turns to autumn. Soon enough, snow coats the clearing although the waterfall continues to flow. No matter how harsh the weather, you stumble your way back to the forest to him, and each day, Dream feels himself sink deeper and deeper into the very essence that is you.

To think that there was once a time he never wanted to return here at all.

“Dream,” you say abruptly one day, “you know, I think you might be my favourite person in the world.”

He cocks a brow at you, his lips twitching up into a small smirk. “In the world?” he repeats. “I think Karl would be offended.”

You roll your eyes at him, but you can’t stop the smile from stretching across your face. “Maybe, but it’s the truth!” You lift a hand and begin counting off on your fingers. “You’re—you’re so nice, and passionate, and bold, and bright, and...” You pause, then chuckle almost shyly. “I could go on and on, but that’s embarrassing.”

He chuckles at your words, only growing more and more enamoured with each word that falls from your lips. “It’s not embarrassing,” he says gently. “It’s cute.”

Your shoulders suddenly stiffen, and you slowly turn your head to glance up at him. “Cute? You think I’m cute?”

He doesn’t have to think twice about his response. “Very much so. I would dare say that you are even more beautiful than you are cute.”

You whine with a pout, heat crawling up the side of your neck as you dig your thumbs into your palms. “You can’t just say things like that.”

He stares at you for a second, then he flashes you a grin that is both parts wicked and affectionate. “Maybe, but it’s the truth.”

Your mouth drops open at the way he fires your own words back at you, and you gape at him a moment before you groan, reaching over to playfully bat at his arm. “Why, you!”

He laughs at you and loves the way he can tell your heart races in your chest. He loves the way you smile despite your small shouts of frustration. He loves the way you are just so endearing to him in every which way.

He laughs at you and he loves you, hopelessly and wholly.

Dream gazes up at the orange sky with a slight frown and furrowed brows, watching as the clouds coast by overhead on a distant, northern gale. The waterfall babbles restlessly at his side, and he taps his foot against the smooth stones lining the pond with abandonment. The flowers he had once grown rake this petals over the soles of his shoes as he lets out a long sigh, anxiety slowly beginning to paw at his backside.

Are you going to show up at all today? he wonders. There are some days you don’t appear at all, typically because you had to run some errands or something of the sort, but those days are few and far between. He won’t chastise you for not seeing him, of course, but he cannot simply ignore the pang of his heart when he misses you so.

His fingers drum against the cool material clutched in his hands, and a melancholic look flits over his features. It would be a shame if you didn’t appear though, especially given what he had in mind for the day.

Right then, he hears your lovely voice call out for him. “Dream!”

His frown is immediately replaced by a smile as he whirls around to see you, his hands carefully tucked behind his back. “[Y/N],” he greets, striding up to you. “It’s good to see you.”

You’ve only just made it in front of him when he opens his mouth again, excitement filling his words to the absolute brim. “I brought you a gift.”

You blink wildly at him, pointing to yourself in surprise. “For me?”

His grin only grows wider, his heart leaping into his throat. “Of course it’s for you, silly. Who else?”

You squint for a second, then smile. “Karl?”

Dream deadpans at you, and you laugh in return, not noticing the way his eyes melt fondly at your expression. “I’m kidding,” you chide, shuffling a step closer to him. “So, what is it?”

He’s practically bouncing on the balls of his feet when he finally brings his hands out from behind him, pushing them towards you. “Ta-da! Here.”

Your breath catches at the sight of his palms, and with trembling hands, you reach up to pull the curved item from his hand. “Is this... a shell?” you whisper, your eyes as wide as saucers.

He nods, his emerald eyes gleaming with pride. “A conch shell,” he says. “From the ocean.”

You sputter as you gently turn the shell over in your hands, your fingers tracing over the solid edges with nothing short of pure shock. “H-How did you even get this? The nearest ocean is at least a week’s travel on horse away!”

Dream thinks of the wings he typically had tucked on his back and how they carried him to the ocean and back in less than a few minutes, but to you, he only smiles and shrugs. “I have my ways.”

You don’t respond for a moment, then two. All of a sudden, you sniffle, and Dream is bending before you in a heartbeat, his hands reaching for yours before just stopping short. “[Y/N]?” he asks in a soothing tone. “Is something wrong?”

Your gaze is watery, but only slightly as you raise your chin to look at him, your lower lip set with determination. “Dream,” you say with a shaky breath, “I have to tell you something.” You gulp. “It’s serious.”

Immediately, Dream’s mind runs through a million and five possibilities of what you could possibly say to him, each one increasingly worse than the last. Your family is in need of funds, or you’re about to leave on a life-threatening journey. Or maybe Karl is just sick, again.

But before he can run himself into the ground with his own worries, Dream lets out a breath and tilts his head at you. “What is it?”

Your gaze falls down to your feet, and you stare at the earth for an excruciatingly long minute. Dream simply stands in front of you, patiently and earnestly waiting for your response when you suddenly open your mouth.

“I—I love you.”

Dream’s lungs feel as though they are about to collapse in his chest. “You do?”

You bite your lip, but raise your head, your shoulders trembling at your sides. “Yes,” you whisper, the syllable steeped with emotion. With one hand clasped around the conch shell, the other reaches up to rest over your chest, palm pressed flats against your left side. “My heart is yours, all of it.”

The world is a blur of colours and sounds around him, and he can feel his head spin faster and faster as a wave of memories come crashing down over him, drowning him whole. He wants to tear his hair out and scream to the heavens above until his throat is raw and he can scream no more.

You love him. You love him back, and as much as he wants to burn your words into the back of his eyelids, something else sinks its claws into his heart and tears a hole right into the flesh.

This is not the first time you have spoken these words to him. No, not at all.

He had done his best to forget them over all those years, had tried his best to outrun the anguish with every century he lived through. After all, when you live as long as he has, it is only natural for him to forget some things. Through wandering across every land he had lovingly sculpted by hand, he had hoped to erase his suffering by engulfing himself in other worldly affairs, isolating himself entirely from others.

But no amount of time could ever truly erase the memories he had of you—the first incarnation of you, from all those years ago.

He remembers how the two of you had shared your first kiss under the light of the full moon, giggling to one another as he wrapped you up in his soft feathers. He remembers the way you would hold his hand and tell him about all the things you could not wait to do with him in the very same clearing he stood in now. He remembers the way your body went limp in his own arms, coughing until your lungs could cough no more. He remembers the agony and the torment as he wasted away, too caught up in the imprint of your skin against his before you turned to dust before his very eyes.

He remembers it all, and he cannot not let himself be shattered like that, again.

“I have to go,” he whispers, jerking his arm back from yours.

You whip your head up, pain shooting across your face. “Y-You’re leaving? What?”

He takes another step back and swallows down the lump in his throat, but it tastes like acid burning his stomach. “I—I can’t stay here.”

Before he can move back again, your hand shoots out to grab at the hem of his shirt, desperation soaking into your face: “P-Please,” you plead, “you can just say you don’t love me back. My feelings for you won’t change.”

He wants to cry. No, he thinks, it’s not that. It could never be that. Not with you.

You clutch at the cloth, hoping your feelings somehow reach him through your anguished touch. “I love you, Dream,” you begin, “I really do. I love how attentive you are, how much you always seem to care. You’re always so patient with me, so kind, so generous, and it makes me melt inside. I love the way your eyes shine so brightly, and I love your little freckles. I want to count them all, and I don’t mind if that takes the rest of eternity.”

You’re almost entirely out of breath by now, and Dream’s jaw has gone slack. He can only stare at you with a look of pure conflicting despair as your eyes search his for answers he knows he cannot possibly give. “An eternity with you would be nothing,” you breathe, your voice cracking. Your grip on his shirt suddenly goes limp, and your arm falls back to your side. “Please. Stay.”

The knife in his gut only seems to twist deeper as he takes yet another step back, his cloak feeling like a boulder upon his back. “I can’t,” he chokes out. “I really can’t.”

Tears line your eyes like tiny jewels, and he wishes he could wipe them away. “Why?” you beg. “Why do you have to go?”

He opens his mouth, then closes it, shaking his head. He doesn’t even know where to begin.

In front of him, a look of absolute defeat sinks into your expression, and your voice grows smaller than ever. “At least—at least tell me if I’ll ever see you again.”

Dream’s feels the back of his eyes sting, and he clenched his hands beside him. “Not in this lifetime,” he wants to say. “And hopefully not in the next, either.”

“I’m sorry, [Y/N],” he says instead.

Just like that, he watches as the light fades from your eyes, vanishing from sight as the setting sun watches on with a sad gaze. Your lower lip trembles, and before you can stop yourself, you’re crumpling to the ground in a heap and watering the earth with your tears. You clutch the conch shell to your chest and let it dig into your chest from how tightly you press it against yourself, your vision completely blurred. In front of you, Dream holds back tears of his own, forcing himself to look away from your broken figure as he walks toward the forest away from you.

Your wails follow after him even after he unfurls his wings deep in the forest and soars up into the sky, flying high above the world below as he dries his tears with the harsh wind that bites at his face.

He will not return here for a long, long time.

He doesn’t think he would even be able to bring himself to if he tried.

Dream brushes a stray leaf off his shoulder as he steps over a root, his eyes focused on the bushes before him. A bird chirps as he strolls past a tree, nestling further into its nest as he ducks under the branch. He smiles at the sight, a deep fondness seeping into his heart as he lets his hand run over the tree’s hard bark.

He recognizes this forest—these trees. He knows this sky, has leapt over these rocks. He’s walked this path before.

It’s a shame he can’t remember how long it’s been since he last came here.

He hums a quiet melody to himself as he weaves a path between the trees, drawing nearer and nearer to the place he had been searching for with every passing second. He’s only a few steps away when a sound calls out to him—a sound that isn’t a part of the forest.

“Hello?”

Dream goes stock still, his heart coming to a screeching halt in his chest.

He knows that voice, too.

Sucking in a deep breath, he slowly steps forward, out into the entrance of the clearing. In front of the waterfall stands a silhouette he is absolutely positive he’s seen before—countless times before. Something tells him that he should leave, that he should run far, far away and disappear from view. But as he watches the silhouette take a tentative step toward him, his inhibitions fall away.

Warmth blossoms in the space between his lungs, all encompassing and full of grief as he opens his mouth.

“Hi.”

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a-crepusculo · 2 years

Text

Paper Rings (Ethan x MC)

Part Two

Book: Open Heart Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x Dr. Marchia Bisognin (F!MC) Series: Marry Me Series Premise: One simple question can change their whole lives forever. Rating / Category: General / Fluff Warning(s): None Word Count: 913 words

Previous Parts Here

A/N: I'm back with some fluff, peeps!

It was a rare sight for Ethan to be back in his humble abode when the sun was still out. As the grandiose curtains of his windows were pushed back, rays of light painted every inch of his apartment with honeyed tones—a warm blanket for his fatigued soul.

Tiny specks of dust appeared to be dancing in the shaft of the twilight dusk, flowing in gentle and graceful swirls between numerous cardboard boxes that laid around. Most of them remained untouched, scattered all over the place, patiently waiting for its rightful owner to unpack the contents.

Well, as far as one could tell, it was safe to say that Marchia’s meticulous plan to go through her belongings and organize his—correction, their—apartment on her day off has failed spectacularly.

While he placed down his briefcase on the coffee table, Ethan could hear a vague, upbeat song being played from the opposite side of the flat. The rhythmic tempo, the ghastly mirthful tune, the obnoxiously high-pitched voice—it could only indicate one terrifying truth...

That she was streaming Taylor Swift songs from her smartphone.

He let out a wistful sigh; mourning the loss of the opportunity to have a peaceful evening with his girlfriend. Clearly, he would much rather pick to be struck by lightning than to voluntarily listen to these songs, yet a cheeky smile unfurled across his face when he soaked in one extremely important piece of information.

The woman of his dreams had moved in with him.

Jubilant feet carry him to their kitchen. He strode with ease, as though he was walking on the puffy clouds. The specter of the man he used to be, often haunting him within these four walls, were no longer there to strike terror, to fuel him with fear. Instead, it was replaced with these small, vibrant pieces of her.

Breathing life into this place.

The scrumptious aroma of her trademarked poffertjes—also paired with her incredibly out of tune vocals—greeted him as he entered the room. He leaned against the door frame, arms crossed over his chest, eyes alight while he watched her with wonder.

“One, two,” she recited the lyrics masterfully, bopping to the cheerful melody. “One, two, three, four!”

For a millisecond, she stopped jumping around and prepared herself to enter the chorus. Using the batter whisk in her hand as a faux microphone, she dramatically flipped her golden locks from side to side and carried on with her solo.

“I like shiny things but I’d marry you with paper rings, uh-huh!”

Marry her.

More than a year ago, she was standing on a thin line between existence and death. Helpless, losing the race against time. Every second slipped through his fingers like sand through a sieve; unable to stop the toxin from slowly devouring her alive.

Yet, the universe was kind enough to give them a second chance.

“That’s right, darling,” she continued to sing, adding her own flair into the musical strains. Her body fluttered through the beat in this zestful, whimsical sways; commanding the air around her with electrifying sparks. “You’re the one I want!”

Those electric blue eyes gazed at her again at with a combination of adoration and wonder; an undeniable love-struck expression forever etched on his striking features. So effortlessly, easily, she fit right into the picture of his home—like she has always been there.

And once again, he found himself whispering the same thing that he did months ago.

“Marry me, Marchia.”

Of course, under the obnoxiously loud pop music that was blasting through the speaker, she could not hear him utter those three simple words. Nevertheless, his heart tugged at the endless possibilities that those three words could bring into their future. A wonderful future, together—where they would get their own version of happily-ever-after.

Her hips swiveled with confidence, shifting accordingly to the beat. She moved around the apartment with the comfort of a person that has been doing this for years; heart skipping a beat as he fully admired the breathtaking vision before him.

Blissfully unaware of his presence, she twirled around her petite frame. It did not take long for her to realize that her biggest fan was standing in front of her, quietly enjoying her impromptu concert.

“Wrap your arms around— Oh!” Marchia gasped, a small smile formed at the corner of her lips when she fully registered the surprising sight. “You’re back!”

This time, her feet moved toward him as if of their own accord; visibly bursting with delight as she walked into Ethan’s embrace. His hands ardently came up to wrap around the warmth of her waist, bodies colliding to become one.

“Welcome home, sayang,” she murmured into a loving kiss.

Home.

He never really considered any place that he lived in as ‘home’. Yet, as the complete meaning of her words settled over him, his heart leaped into the atmosphere.

Home was not a house, or a single location that can be tracked using a map. It was never meant to be a place, but more of a feeling. A juncture. Built on each other like bricks that was made of hopes and dreams to create a sturdy shelter that one can take for the rest of their lives.

Home was where their love reside, where they make new memories together, and where her laughter never seem to end.

With her, Ethan knew that he was home.

I’ll be tagging in a separate post!

#open heart #ethan ramsey #open heart choices #choices open heart #ethan jonah ramsey #dr. ethan ramsey #open heart fanfiction #open heart fanfic #oph fanfiction #oph fanfic #ethan x mc #ethan ramsey x mc #choices fic writers creation #cfwc fics of the week #fics of the week #Ethan x Marchia #Marry Me series

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emeren · 3 years

Text

speed racer- eren jaeger

pairing: eren jaeger x fem!reader

word count: 6k

content warnings: nsfw, smut, 18+, smoking, degradation, overstimulation, breeding (w/o baby talk)

notes: 100% inspired by the official art, like mmm yes please. also i know absolutely nothing about how car racing works, but that’s not important. this is unedited because my brain turned to mush writing it. enjoy!! <3

SUMMARY: eren’s a semi-professional car racer, who has a tumultuous friendship with the reader. after losing a race, eren sets out to win something else in his life, much to the reader’s surprise.

“took you long enough!” sasha called out, holding her hand above her eyes in an attempt to block out the bright sun. you dished her a smile, weaving your way through the throngs of people in the stands, attempting not to step on anyone. your eyes briefly flitted to the track, the assistants distantly getting their cars ready. they were hardly visible from here; merely faceless figures idling around. you heaved out a sigh as you reached sasha, the brunette gingerly patting the spot next to her.

“you couldn’t have gotten better seats, sash?” you asked as you sat down, pushing your sunglasses on top of your head. sasha waved her large bag of popcorn in front of your face, an exasperated expression on her features.

“the line was long, and what’s a race without popcorn?” she grinned, offering you the bag. you rolled your eyes but took a fistful of the bright yellow snack nonetheless. “plus, if you really wanted that good of seats, you would’ve come early yourself.”

“i did come here early,” you retorted, your voice muffled by the popcorn. sasha raised a questioning brow, her elbow nudging you in the side.

“getting here early just so you can poke around the racer’s quarters is not the same thing,” she singsonged, a girlish smirk on her face. you scoffed, turning away from her as you felt heat race to your cheeks. “c’mon, everyone knows you and eren are totally into each other. i don’t understand why you guys don’t just go for it.”

“i wasn’t poking around, and i am not into eren,” you said, shifting uncomfortably as the words left your mouth. it was true, to some degree. the two of you had been friends in high school, back when eren was just some skinny kid with anger issues. now he was a semi-professional racer, and the rivalry between the two of you was palpable, to say the least.

you’d been in the same friend group and for some reason eren just loved to pick on you whenever he got the chance. you suspected it had something to do with his repressed daddy issues or whatever, and he’d known mikasa and armin far too long to be so catty with them. initially they were just playful taunts, but as you got older, they started to become more personal. with age came your own unchecked need to banter and argue with him.

somewhere along the way the arguments turned to sexual tension. a sexual tension that for the most part, the two of you were happy to ignore. it allowed room for a more sassy friendship, at least.

“uh huh, suuure,” sasha responded, seemingly unconvinced. she must’ve sensed your discomfort, deciding to change the topic. “who’s who?”

your eyes traced the track, analyzing each vehicle. “armin’s in yellow, mikasa’s in red, eren’s in white, and i believe levi is in green.”

“levi’s racing? isn’t he getting a little old for that?” sasha laughed, squinting. you chuckled.

“it’s just a small fundraiser race, plus he’s a crowd favorite over here,” you explained. sasha nodded as she processed the information. the sun was hot, beating down on your back. “i’m honestly surprised this many people came out.”

sasha tossed more popcorn in her mouth, halfway done with the bag despite the race still not having started. she offered it to you again. “mhm, this is the same type of crowd that we’d see in the underground.”

you thought back to your days of attending the illegal races, late at night and under the cover of darkness. though you were just a junior in college, it felt like those nights freshman year had been decades ago. that was before eren showed real promise in the professional circuit. it was also where levi scouted him out to be his successor.

as if on cue, you could see the figures of the racers emerging from the port, each headed for their respective cars. you couldn’t help the way your gaze immediately followed the tall, brown haired racer adorned in his white racing jacket, checkers on the side. the crowd erupted into cheers at the sight of the all the racers, one from each color of the rainbow. eren walked with a certain confidence, his adamant determination being one of the only things that followed him from high school.

though you couldn’t clearly see his face from where you sat, you knew he was smiling. eren had always loved the adrenaline rush before a race.

“alright ladies and gentlemen, we welcome you to the annual shiganshina fundraiser race!” the reporter boomed over the intercom. sasha squealed in her seat, excitedly gripping your arm and pointing towards your friends. you felt a mix of excited nervousness waft over you, giggling along with her. “today we’ve got racers from all over the circuit, and each one has volunteered their precious time for the cause. can we get a round of applause?”

the crowd erupted in yet another ear deafening round of applause as the announcer read off the names of each of the racers. you and sasha made sure to scream your loudest when armin, mikasa, and eren’s names were read off.

you hoped they knew it was you, your throat scratchy as you sat back down. there was no need to be loud for levi; the entire crowd went absolutely feral at the mention of his name.

the announcer read off the conditions of the race, as well as the reasoning for the fundraiser itself. you and sasha chatted quietly about the after party while the racers put their helmets on and got in their cars. before too long, the announcer was gearing up for the start.

“alright everyone, we’re about to start. get yourselves ready.”

you and sasha stood, hollering and cheering for your friends as the cars all lined up. you knew you’d be happy if any of them crossed the finish line first, but it was undeniable that it would be eren. it wasn’t armin or mikasa’s passion like it was eren’s; they viewed it more as as fun hobby. nevertheless, you dreaded how smug eren would be once he added another win to his already growing list. he really was a bastard sometimes.

“racers ready your cars. 3... 2... 1... go!”

they were off, levi’s green car easily settling into first place, cruising past the other cars as he whipped around the first curve. you held your breath, eyes scanning the other cars placements. eren was in fourth, armin in fifth, and mikasa in second. sasha yelled sporadically, reaching out and squeezing your wrist tightly.

as they rounded the circuit for the second time, eren passed the third place racer, coming up behind mikasa’s red car. you held your breath. “c’mon eren...”

“shit! he passed her!” sasha screeched, jumping up and down. you smiled as he whipped the corner, nearly cutting the edge of the median.

“levi is still so far ahead,” you commented, trying to pry sasha’s death grip from your wrist. your eyes glanced to the clock, realizing that the race was near its finish. levi was cutting the third corner and eren was quickly gaining on him.

“looks like it’s gonna be clo-” sasha’s voice was cut off as a large man tripped over the bleacher behind you, effectively shoving you into her side. “shit, the popcorn!”

you regained your balance, giving the man behind you a dirty glare as you turned to sasha. she frowned at the popcorn that’d been spilled all over the ground. “what a waste!”

looking back up at the track, the crowd broke into screams of excitement. you expected to see eren’s face on the big screen to the side as confetti streamed through the air, but were surprised to see levi’s unimpressed stare.

eren lost?

“you’ve gotta be shitting me,” sasha gaped, her face slack in shock. you shrugged, shaking the feeling of disappointment from your shoulders. serves him right.

people started to vacate the stands, shoving their way past you as you turned to sasha. “let’s go find connie and jean, sash.”

she nodded, still frowning. the two of you climbed down the steps, going against the flow of the crowd as you weaseled your way down onto the spectators path. you could see all of the racers shaking hands, congratulating each other. your mind briefly considered whether or not eren was going to be upset, but you decided not to dwell on it.

you watched as the racers disappeared into the tunnel, eren’s tall figure no longer in view. just then, connie and jean came walking out from the service booth, both wearing their maintenance coveralls.

sasha wildly waved her arm, grabbing your hand and pulling you through the remaining stragglers towards your friends.

“hey guys!” she smiled, the boys jogging to meet you halfway.

“why were you guys in such shit seats?” connie asked, skipping over a greeting. you let out a small laugh at sasha’s expense. she merely shrugged, turning to jean.

“we going to your place?” you questioned before she had the chance. jean nodded, adjusting the backwards baseball cap on his head.

“yeah, just gotta wrap some things up, then we can head out,” he replied. you grew happy at the thought of kicking back with your friends, enjoying a nice night of fun. parties at jean and connie’s place were always the best.

***************

“some race that was,” connie groaned, leaning back and bringing the beer bottle to his lips. so far it was just you, sasha, connie, jean, and a bunch of random drunk people who’d come from the track. sasha scoffed from her spot on the worn, brown couch.

“you could say that again,” she grumbled. “we didn’t even get to see levi cross the finish line ‘cause some guy rammed into us.”

jean looked at you from where he leaned against the wall, a bottle in his hand and his eyebrows raised. “wait, for real?”

“yeah,” you sighed, drinking whatever bitter liquid sasha had poured into your red solo cup. “didn’t even say sorry.”

“how many times do i have to tell you guys, just come work maintenance with jean-boy and i,” connie suggested, wrapping his arm around sasha’s shoulder and giving a squeeze. she rolled her eyes and shoved him off. “you guys would get to watch the race from the track itself.”

“i don’t know the first thing about cars,” sasha laughed, you nodding along with her.

“and you think we do? i just said that so we could get the best seats in the house,” connie snorted, taking another swig of his drink. you chuckled at his idiocy, unfazed by yet another one of their stupid stunts. “where’re the big racers anyway?”

“they should be here soon,” you responded, glancing out the window. jean was unironically blasting the fast and the furious soundtrack, something he’d done after every race for as long as you’d known him. by now the songs were ingrained in your brain.

“who wants to bet jaeger is in a pissy mood?” jean snorted as he moved to sit down on the arm of the chair you were planted in.

“when isn’t he?” you sneered. connie and sasha hummed in agreement. both you and jean loved nothing more than to push eren’s buttons. you knew jean’s motives stemmed from some boyish fun, whereas yours felt a little more personal.

the sound of clapping began to compete with the music, your neck craning to look past jean into the hallway. eren, armin, and mikasa came into view, people cheering them on and patting them on the back. they each wore their racing jackets over their street clothes.

you felt a familiar sensation burn in your stomach at the sight of eren. his dark hair was pulled back per usual, wispies framing his tan face. The white jacket stood out against his black t-shirt and black jeans; key necklace he always wore glinting against his chest. as your gaze travelled up from his body, you were startled to make contact with his teal eyes. you quickly glanced away in embarrassment.

“well, well, well,” jean cheered, raising his bottle to the trio. “how’d it feel to lose to a short, old man, eh jaeger?”

eren scowled, obviously peeved. “if i had to lose to anyone, i’m glad it was levi.”

connie snorted at that. “man, professional circuit has you soft.”

“whatever you say, baldie,” eren smirked mischievously as he came to sit down on the couch. connie defensively rubbed his head. “at least i’m making money in prof.”

“i still can’t believe you have people that actually want to sponsor you,” you snipped, a playful expression on your face. eren lazily looked towards you, the familiar irritation laced in his eyes.

“i’m sorry, what was that? i wasn’t listening to you,” eren retorted, looking as unbothered as ever. you glared at his words, but caught armin’s disapproving eye and decided to stay quiet.

as the night carried on, you watched your friends relax and reminisce about previous races and the days spent in the illegal ring. it seemed crazy that your life was so centered around car races, when you weren’t even a racer yourself. but you supposed you were just happy to be supporting your friends.

at some point you got up out of your chair to refill your cup. the large hoards of people had started to dance; the house feeling hot and humid as you shoved your way to the kitchen. luckily the room was empty, save for armin who was drinking water out of the kitchen tap.

“thirsty?” you asked, amused. his head snapped up, surprised by your voice. it took one look to tell he was absolutely trashed, face red and eyes half lidded. he smiled goofily and nodded his head before stumbling back out into the crowd of people.

you quickly filled your cup, following the direction armin had gone. as you stepped out of the kitchen, a body came out of nowhere and smacked into you.

eren jumped back, trying to avoid the liquid that sloshed out of your cup. “hey, watch it!” he hissed.

“you watch it, casanova,” you snapped, irritated by the sticky alcohol that dripped down your hand. eren’s eyes narrowed at the nickname, his arms defensively crossing his chest.

“i told you not to call me that,” he bit back, eyebrows furrowed in annoyance. you rolled your eyes, instinctively bringing your hand to your mouth in an attempt to lick the drink off. eren watched you, his gaze clouded with an indiscernible emotion. you knew what you were doing.

“hm. too bad,” you quipped, dragging your tongue down the side of your hand, popping your pointer finger in your mouth. eren glowered at you as you let out a giggle. “see ya, loser.”

“whatever, brat,” he huffed, shaking the tension from his pants as you sauntered off into the crowd. he hated the effect you had on him.

you’d already decided not to get shit faced. while the rest of your friends had chosen otherwise, you danced alongside them, your resolve wearing thin much faster than theirs. jean and sasha bounced happily up and down, screaming the lyrics to whatever song it was blasting from the speakers. connie and mikasa were playing beer pong, and you had no clue where armin and eren had gone.

you heaved in a breath as a sharp pain shot through your side, signaling the end of your dancing career for the night. your two dance partners were too far gone to notice, waving goodbye to you as you stepped out of the sweaty crowd.

slipping your phone out of your pocket, your eyes nearly popped from your head at the time. two thirty?!

only slightly tipsy, you decided to find jean’s room and call it a night. he’d just have to sleep on the couch. with one hand dragging on the wall, you made your way through the house, past armin who was doing body shots with a couple of strangers, up the stairs and down the dark hall. it was quieter up here, but you could still hear the music and knew it’d be awhile till sleep visited you.

shoving jean’s door open, you were surprised to see none other than eren laid back on the bed, puffs of smoke coming from his mouth. the strong scent of weed hit your nostrils, nose scrunching up in reflex. he propped himself up on one arm upon your entrance, eyeing you.

“oh, sorry i’ll just- wait a minute,” you paused, narrowing your eyes at him. “you aren’t supposed to be smoking on your sponsorship.”

eren let out a loud laugh at that, more smoke spilling from his lungs. “thanks, mom. i know.”

you stood in the doorway, not really sure what to do. “jean’s gonna be mad if his room smells like weed tomorrow.”

“yeah, why do you think i chose to do it in here?” he leered, bringing the blunt to his lips and deeply inhaling, sharp cheekbones protruding with the action. you sucked in a breath, not wanting to acknowledge just how gorgeous he was. his jacket was off, black shirt tightly gripping his muscular yet slender arms as he propped himself up. he blew the smoke from his nostrils this time, making your face heat. “wanna hit?”

you sighed, weighing the options. jean’s bed was a lot more comfortable than connie’s. you could just wait till eren was done, and then pass out. “no, but i’ll wait with you till you’re done.”

“suit yourself, brat,” eren hummed, flopping back down on the bed as you shut the door behind yourself. you came to sit by him, looking down as he heaved in a sober breath. he really is beautiful, you thought.

your eyes scanned his face. “you really shouldn’t be smoking, you know. you could lose the sponsorship.”

eren rolled his teal eyes, giving you a side glance. “i’m aware. i’m also aware that you aren’t going to rat on me.”

“and what makes you so sure?” you asked playfully, your voice low. eren’s gaze shifted to you, placing the blunt between his lips as he sat up, face inches from yours.

“because. you can act like you hate me all you want,” smoke blew from his lips as he spoke, slowly inching his face closer to yours. you swallowed, eyes struggling to maintain contact with his dark stare. “but i know how badly you want me.”

you blinked, heart rate accelerating as he glanced at your lips. “speaking from experience?”

eren’s mouth quirked up in a smirk at your words. “something like that.”

you watched with desire as he brought the bud of the blunt up to his lips, deeply inhaling the toxic smoke. he lifted his free hand, pointer finger gently tracing your jaw as his thumb came up to caress your chin. he tapped softly against your face, as if asking you to open your mouth.

you weren’t sure what part of you was wanting to submit to his every move. maybe it was the alcohol. or maybe it was the accumulation of sexual tension. something told you it was a deeper itch that needed to be scratched. an itch only eren could reach.

you parted your lips, eyes fluttering as eren leaned forward and carefully brushed his own against yours, dumping his lungful of smoke into your mouth. you breathed it in, fighting the urge to cough and whine as he pulled away.

“good girl,” he breathed, leaning away to snuff the bud out on jean’s bedside table. you heaved out as much as you could, shocked by your own willingness. you were mainly surprised by how much you enjoyed whatever that was.

you stared at him expectantly as he turned back to you, a serious expression on his face. “eren.”

“yes?” he asked, leaning heavily on his arm, eyes unashamedly focused on your lips. his other hand came up again, lightly ghosting your jawline. you could feel yourself growing wet between your legs; the way eren was fucking you with his eyes sending an unwelcomed throb to your clit.

acting on impulse, you lurched forward, latching your lips onto eren’s slightly chapped ones. he wasted no time in kissing you back; hungrily pressing himself closer to your body. his lips were warm and tasted like weed and coca cola, his tongue wiggling its way into your mouth where you happily welcomed it.

you brought your hand up, wanting to run your fingers through his hair, but were stopped when they got caught in the bun. eren grunted, kissing you harder and bringing his own hand up to yank the tie from his locks, letting his soft hair fall to his shoulders.

your fingers were quick to glide through the brown strands, scratching his scalp in the process. some throaty sound emitted from his chest, the noise making your cunt ache in need. how is he so hot?

eren’s hands came to your waist, roughly shoving you down onto the bed, so that he hovered above you. your lips continued to meld together, saliva coated mouths wetly intertwined. you removed your hand from his hair, bringing both hands to run down the expanse of his arms that were on either side of your head. you squeezed his biceps, surprised when he suddenly pulled away.

“is this okay?” he panted, breaths labored. his pupils were dilated, all seriousness behind his gaze. you nodded your head without hesitation, practically begging him to continue. “words.”

“yes, yes. i want this just as much as you do,” you responded. eren smirked from above you, his dark hair swirling around his face as his key dangled in front of your chin.

“good, because,” he leaned down to your ear, lightly nibbling the lobe as the cold key rested against your throat. “i’m going to punish you for all these years of torture.”

your eyes widened, the words sending a desirable chill down your spine. “torture?”

eren’s hot mouth travelled slowly from your ear down the side of your neck, lightly peppering the skin with lustful kisses. his tongue came out as he reached your collarbone, dragging the wet muscle up the front of your throat, leaving a trail of saliva in its wake. a small whimper involuntarily left your mouth as he pulled back, grabbing your chin in his large hand.

“all of the nicknames,” he pressed a kiss to your lips. “the quips,” and another, your chest tightening. “the stunt you pulled earlier with your hand. oh god. it’s like you were practically begging me to bend you over and teach you a lesson.”

he pulled back, dark eyes boring into yours. the desire was palpable, your breathing shallow as he stared at you. it was like he was waiting for some silent agreement.

you held eye contact, tilting your chin back ever so slightly in his grip. “good thing i learn fast.”

your words flew straight to his cock, throbbing uncomfortably behind his jeans. eren let go of your chin, his lips hungrily reconnecting with yours as his hands pinned your wrists to either side of your head. his tongue was quick to invite itself into your mouth, warm and erotic.

you wanted to tug on his hair again; wanted to hear his primal groans and feel him vibrate against your mouth, but you were pinned to the bed. desperate to hear eren moan, your teeth grazed his bottom lip, the action making him yank his head back.

“tsk tsk, none of that,” he growled, wet lips glinting in the low light of the room. “this is your punishment. guess we’re going to have to do something else.”

you frowned as he let go of your wrists, lifting himself from the bed and standing. you propped yourself up on your elbows, eyes laced with desire as eren swiftly pulled the black shirt over his head, key pendant resting on his newly exposed chest. he was dangerously attractive like this; dark hair disheveled on his shoulders, only adding to the feral stare he was giving you.

he leaned forward, grabbing your thighs and yanking you to the end of the bed, legs dangling from the side. you watched in awe as he dropped to his knees, fingers coming up to toy with the button of your jean shorts.

“these little shorts make your ass look so good,” he grumbled, tapping the button. “be good and take them off for me.”

you wasted no time in lifting your ass off the bed, struggling to yank the denim down your legs without hitting eren in the face. he watched your every movement, licking his lips as you wiggled them off.

without thinking, your hands gripped the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head to reveal a black bra. eren’s pupils dilated further at the unexpected sight of your breasts.

he helped pull the shorts from your ankles, tossing them aside as you sat back down, just in your panties and bra. you paused for a moment, unsure of what he was planning to do.

“watch me,” he demanded, staring at you through his brows. you nodded your head, breath hitching as he placed an open mouthed kiss to the inside of your thigh, tongue swiping against the smooth skin.

his eyelashes fluttered as he licked up your leg; just the way he looked at you being enough to have you creaming in your lace panties. your teeth tugged at your bottom lip, the burning in your face mirroring the way your clit throbbed along with your heart beat.

eren’s tongue trailed until he reached the edge of your underwear, eyes never failing to stay connected with yours. you swallowed as he lifted his head, placing his tongue flatly against your clothed clit.

it was a warm, muted feeling, your body all too aware of the beautiful man between your legs. eren brought his fingers up, hooking under the fabric and pushing it to the side.

“so wet for me already,” he hummed, a smile on his face. you blushed in embarrassment, the feeling of his breath on your glistening pool of moisture making you shiver. “’m gonna eat you so good, little bitch.”

you gasped as eren rapidly brought his face down, burying his head between your legs. the sensation was like no other; a swirling feeling in your stomach as his tongue hungrily swiped against your clit. your hands flew down to his hair, tugging as his lips wrapped around the bud, suckling softly.

a moan escaped your lips, the sound causing eren to groan out in reply. the vibration of his vocal cords against your center amplifying the pleasure.

a distinct feeling began to burn in your chest, the sloppiness of eren’s tongue licking up your slick causing your legs to squirm, tightening around his head. “fuck.”

eren pulled back at the pressure against his skull, a smack sounding through the air as he released his suction on your wet cunt.

“i told you to be good,” he hissed, lips coated in your sheen. you knew the image of eren’s face between your legs, hair disheveled and mouth swollen, eyes dark and lustrous, would be burned into the back of your brain.

flustered, you nodded your head, spreading your legs so they weren’t pressing against his face. he nodded in content, arms coming up to wrap around your thighs to keep you steady.

and he was back; eating your pussy like he hadn’t been fed in years, a primal desperation. he pressed his tongue down harder, the cry ripping from your throat at the sensation only egging him on. you struggled against his grip as he abused your clit with his mouth, sucking and tracing his teeth over it so good.

his tongue slid down to your entrance, shoving itself in without invitation. the fullness wasn’t like having sex; it was a heated, swirling feeling. the wet muscle circled around your spongey walls, your face beginning to burn and hands growing clammy in eren’s hair.

you threw your head back as his ministrations sped up, your hips attempting to grind into his face. the warmth in the pit of your stomach building like a loaded gun, ready to release itself.

all it took was the added pressure of his hand wrapping around your thigh so that his thumb could press against your clit, feverishly rubbing. you came crashing down, your eyes screwing shut as the wave of dopamine stretched to every part of your body, legs jerking against his hold.

eren pulled his head back again, a smile on his wet face as he licked your release from his lips. “tasted so good, so good for me.”

you breathed out in reply as he came back up above you, gently taking your chin and bringing his mouth down to yours.

the kiss was small and simple, your eye lids growing heavy. you could taste your bitter release on him, the unfamiliar flavor not completely unpleasant.

“sleepy?” eren mumbled against your lips, coming back to look at you. you nodded your head, eyes catching on the key that dangled from his neck. “too bad. we aren’t done with your punishment yet.”

you frowned, your body suddenly more awake than it was before. “huh?” you asked, sitting up as eren shifted to pull his jeans off.

you weren’t sure what you expected when he yanked both his jeans and boxers down; you guessed you’d always thought his anger issues were compensation for something. the realization dawned on you that eren had nothing to compensate for as his cock sprung from his pants, the sheer size making your mouth water.

a smirk crossed his face as he stepped from his jeans. “enjoying the view?”

“what? no,” you scoffed, averting your gaze. eren crawled back over you, his bare length pressing into your stomach as his hands came up to unclasp your bra.

“don’t be shy, this is your punishment after all,” he whispered, pulling the cups from your chest. his eyes unashamedly scanned your breasts, a smile tugging his lips as he gave them a generous squeeze.

you tried to ignore the imprint of him on your stomach; but it was nearly impossible. you could feel the spot between your legs grow wet again, arousal already weaseling its way back into your system.

eren brought his lips to yours once again, the kisses much sloppier and desperate than before. he grunted as you shifted to lay back down, his exposed dick rubbing against your stomach. “can’t wait to be inside of you,” he mumbled against your lips.

you whimpered at his words, his lips melding with your own while he simultaneously tugged your panties down your legs. he propped himself up with one arm, the other positioning the tip of his cock at the entrance of your already throbbing cunt.

you took a deep breath as he slowly eased himself into you; the sheer stretch making your eyes lull back in your head. eren moved his hips slowly at first, loosening you up. he was watching your expressions; his eyelids heavy and mouth slightly agape.

“shit, you’re so tight,” he groaned, hips starting to move faster as he gazed down at you. you swallowed, closing your eyes as he sent one particularly hard thrust, cock nearly ramming your cervix. “you good?”

“mhm,” you responded, bringing your hands up to grab his hair. “just so big.”

eren let out a breathy chuckle at that, eyes traveling down to your pelvis where his dick was visibly creating a bump with every thrust. he placed his hand on your stomach, pressing down as he bucked his hips violently forwards. he was so deep.

you cried out at the feeling of his length sliding in and out of your cunt, your walls clenching around him as your hands clawed at his muscular back.

he was filling you up so good, a moan leaving his lips as your enhanced arousal unexpectedly brought your second orgasm down, tears pricking your eyes. eren kept abusing your pussy, his thrusts growing senseless before he buried himself deep within you, releasing his load inside of your exhausted center.

both of your breathing was labored, eren looking up at the ceiling. his face was flushed as he recovered, you laying limply beneath him trying to regain your composure yourself.

“that felt so good,” you admitted, bringing your hand up from his back to caress his angular face. eren frowned at your words, large hand grabbing your wrist and removing it from his jawline.

“m’not tired yet,” he said seriously, your eyes widening as he placed a chaste kiss to your lips. your fucked out face beneath him had his dick already hardening again. “m’not gonna be tired till i win.”

he suddenly pulled up, hooking his hands under your knees and pushing your legs up by your head. the action strained your muscles, the feeling of eren’s cum dripping down your ass filling your head as he readied himself to fuck you senseless.

he stared at your cunt; at the way his cum was oozing out of it, the abused pussy ready to take him in again. he used his fingers to catch the drip, forcing it back inside of you. the thought of filling you up all nice and pretty sent him over the edge, his hand shamelessly guiding his cock back inside of you.

eren was meaner this time; each thrust was deep and deliberate, hitting your cervix and making you cry out in pleasure. the burning sensation in your clit was overwhelming, your mouth hanging open as eren slowly fucked you stupid.

“good, pretty girl” eren breathed out, ramming his hips into yours. “took her punishment like such a good girl.”

you tried to nod your head, but you couldn’t move. the feeling of hot, sticky tears rolled down your face, eren’s cock deep within you almost too much to bear. he grabbed your chin, tongue swiping up your cheek as he savored the salty flavor on his tastebuds. this man and his licking.

“tell me, did you learn your lesson?” eren grunted in your ear, hand still gripping your chin. you tried to form a sentence, fucked beyond words. “hm, use your words and i’ll let you cum.”

one more deep thrust and his dick stopped its strokes, pausing within you. “yes... yes.”

“yes what?”

your tongue was heavy in your mouth, pussy all too aware of eren’s length within it. “i learned my lesson, you won.”

he smirked, aggressively bucking his hips into your weak cunt, the action making you cry out as he rammed your cervix. the tears continued to roll down your cheeks as eren’s dick twitched, spurting the his seed into you. your third release followed his, your clit spasming from the overstimulation.

eren heaved himself out of you, collapsing deftly onto the bed. the two of you sat in a heated silence, your face sticky from the tears. eren glanced to you, eyes trailing down your body.

“i’ll get a rag,” he mumbled, shoving off the bed and walking into jean’s bathroom. you were beyond exhausted and knew that you’d be sore tomorrow. eren reemerged, quickly cleaning you up and handing you your shirt.

your eyes lazily watched him as he walked over and locked the door; brain too tired to form a sentence.

he must’ve noticed your concern. “we can sleep in here tonight; i don’t think you’re in any shape to move.”

you carefully crawled into the sheets, not even bothering to put your shirt back on. eren followed suit, climbing in behind you.

“night,” he whispered as he shut the bedside light off. your lids were growing heavy, a smile on your lips as you began to fall asleep.

“night, casanova.”

<3 <3 <3

#eren jaeger #eren jeager smut #eren jeager x reader #eren jaeger smut #eren jaeger x reader #eren #eren x reader #eren smut #eren yaeger x reader #eren yaeger smut #eren jäger #this is so bad im sorry

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wiypt-writes · 3 years

Text

Consciousness Of Guilt

Chapter 1

Summary: It’s a year since Ransom was murdered, and you’re settling well into your new life in Boulder. It hasn’t just provided you with a fresh start-it’s brought you a new sense and purpose, an appreciation for the things you took fore grated, and the friendship of a former ADA…

Warnings: Bad Language, allusions to past abuse (Non Con/Dub Con) but nothing explicitly described in this chapter.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar the reader and any other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

W/C: 5k

Consciousness Of Guilt Masterlist // Main Masterlist

A/N- So, here it is! The sequel to Murder, He Wrote . This is the last time I’ll post this note, however, please be aware that the prequel is a Dark series. Whilst this is not, it will contain flashbacks and themes as we progress, however nothing will be as dark as MHW. Chapters will be clearly labelled with appropriate warnings. If anyone is uncomfortable with the themes of a certain chapter, I will be more than happy to post/provide abridged versions which will not deviate from the storyline.

Sunrise. You used to hate the coming of each day. It meant another monotonous day in your young adult life. A 'depends on the day' type of job at the paper in which you got your start, it meant earning little for the slave work you put into each piece or research. It meant another day you'd woken up in fear, not knowing what was coming next. Then, for a little while, sunrises were okay. They were a soft glow across the room, illuminating hard lines and soft curves, whispering words and lingering kisses. And then, they became fearful again, bringing the unpredictable nature of a life in which you were trapped.

But now, over the last few months, since taking up your new hobby, sunrise had become a beautiful thing. The feeling of peace and comfort washing over you like a warm rain, bringing the redeeming nature of a new day as vibrant watercolours paint the new-born sky. Whether you caught it from the East side of your condo; your master balcony and study or your garden, or even your hikes, you appreciated every, single sunrise as if you were seeing it for the first time ever, each and every day.

For this morning's sunrise, you were perched along Boulder Creek Path, a trail that runs from the foothills to across town, a typical recreational getaway for many locals and tourists. You looked out over the bridge as the creek flowed beneath your feet. You were lost in the serenity of it, the bubbling water lulling your mind into a deep mediation that washed peacefulness through your entire body.

A year ago today, your life changed and you were freed. Free of the nightmare that had plagued you, robbing you of nearly a year of your life. The months that followed weren't so easy, but once things settled and the fires were extinguished, you found peace.

You found you.

Your phone buzzing in your pocket brought you back from your reverie, pressing your thumb onto the screen to unlock it. You opened your messages tab and tapped the most recent incoming text.

A smile flicked on your face as you slipped your phone back in your pocket. It didn’t escape your knowledge how Andy didn’t need to even ask what coffee you wanted. But then again, this wasn’t the first time you’d had breakfast in the small, independent coffee place not far from your home and place of work. You knew when you arrived that a large caramel vanilla latte, with an extra shot would be waiting. But no food, your order varied depending on your mood.

Twenty minutes or so later, you parked your sting-grey Jeep Grand Cherokee SRT 4x4 back in your garage to your condo at the corner of 9th and Pine Street and set off on the short ten minute walk to your designated meeting place, centred near the town square, not far from your office which was a gorgeous old red-brick building on the corner of 16th and Walnut Street.

As you approached, you didn’t spot Andy’s black Audi TT in any of the spaces littered around but it didn’t bother you. Barber was reliable, if he said he was going to be there, he’d be there.

And sure enough, as you walked along the side of the cafe you, spotted him at your usual, preferred table by the large window, overlooking the street. He saw you approaching and smiled, giving a small wave.

The smell of roast coffee beans, baked treats and other delicious aromas hit your senses as you opened the door. You approached the table and Andy stood up to great you, smiling. A light grey tee sat exposed under a partially zipped up light weight blue leathered hoodie whilst dark and crisp denim covered his narrow hips and long legs, his go to well-worn black work boots on his feet. His hair was styled and soft looking, his beard always trimmed and neat. He gave you a strong, yet gentle hug, a juxtaposition he managed effortlessly before he turned and waited for you to sit first before he took up his previous seat, nodding to your waiting drink.

“Thank you.” You beamed at him, taking a quick sip. "Of course." He smiled as he took a drink of his own coffee, straight black, before he leaned back a little. His left arm rested over the back of the booth bench, the platinum of his wedding ring catching the early morning sun which streamed through the window. You momentarily glanced at your own hand, bare of the heavy rings which had been taken in the ‘mugging’. Mind you, you wouldn’t be wearing them even if you still had them. Your story was a lot different to his.

“So, where'd you go this morning?" his soft baritone drifted across the table and you glanced back at him. "Fiddled around down Boulder Creek Path." "You seem to be getting around better now." "Yeah, thank God for GPS. Did I tell you that last week I was looking for some store Amber vaguely told me where about it was and ending up like thirty minutes down the highway towards Denver." He laughed, his whole body smiling, radiating genuine amusement. "You have more faith in GPS than me, when I first moved here I got pulled over for going the wrong way down a one way street because it told me to.” You grinned as he shook his head. "And that annoying voice! I want to wring her damn neck." You gave a chuckle but before you could reply, the middle-aged woman, who owned the café, interrupted you both with her usual familiar greeting and the smile she reserved for Andy. “Hey Patti, how are ya?” He smiled back. “Same old, same old.” She winked back. “What can I get you kids today?” “Y/N?” Andy looked at you and you smiled. “Can I get an almond croissant and a granola pot, please? With the blueberry compote.” “Sure honey, and for you Mr Barber?”

“French toast please, all the trimmings.”

A fizzing filled your ears as you were suddenly back on a clinically clean, modern kitchen, nervously scouring a fridge and cupboards for something to make your captor breakfast with. You swallowed, taking a deep breath, counting backwards from five as you always did to keep the memory from swallowing you.

“Hey,” a gentle touch to your hand jolted you back and you looked at Andy who frowned. “You okay?” "Yeah, no, I mean yes, I'm okay. It just…it dawned me this morning that this was the best thing I could have done for myself. Like there's just a newfound peace that's settled with me, you know?" He just smiled as he squeezed your hand before slipping his away. “Yeah, I do.” No more was said about it, and Andy didn’t press. He never did. In the eight weeks or so that had passed since you’d met him that Friday evening in the bar, the pair of you had struck up a friendship that was based on a mutual understanding. You both carried a heavy burden of a traumatic past on your shoulders, but you had an unspoken rule. He had never mentioned Ransom. And you, in turn, never broached the subject of Laurie or Jacob. You understood you were both moving on with your life, both wanting to heal from the past and you wanted to spend the rest of your life never in fear again. Instead, a simple chatter always flowed between the two of you, and today was no exception. You barely stopped to thank Patti for dropping your order off at the table. Current work was never a topic of conversation, although office gossip featured on occasion, but mostly it was always about happenings around town, him asking about you, your parents and your old job, the two of you talking about your favourite places in Boston. You never missed certain facial and eye cues Andy gave off at the mention of certain things, but when you saw them, that sag in his smile or the far off look his eyes would give, you'd change the subject. You ate in comfortable companionship and after another coffee, Andy asked for the bill and then pulled out his card to pay. "Next one is on me, you paid for the last two and coffee all this week." You gave him a stern look as you headed towards the exit. “Well, if you wanted you could grab us a beer later.” He shrugged, pulling the door handle to open it, allowing you to step out before him. “I gotta nip into the office for a coupla hours but...” "Breakfast AND drinks?" You smiled as he fell into step beside you. The July day was starting to warm a little now, the slight chill of the early morning all but gone. “If I didn't know any better, I'd say you actually like hanging out with me." “Well, I wouldn’t go that far. I just find you slightly less irritating than everything and everyone else.” He teased and you laughed. “So... Happy hour?" "Yeah." You nodded “It's a date." Andy confirmed and you quirked your eyebrow, trying not to laugh at the look on his face as he realised what he had said. “A date?” “Well, I don’t mean a date date but...” You felt the heat in your neck a little, so to save your embarrassment and his blushes, you smiled, "it's a date-not-date. Say Oskar’s, 6:30?" "Oskar’s." He confirmed. "I'll save you a tall, cold one." “You’re an angel, you know that?” "I wouldn't go that far. My halo is held up by horns” “Even Prometheus was an angel at some point, Y/N.” He replied as you reached the corner of the street where you would part. Him towards the office, you back home. You rolled your eyes and shook your head. "I'll see you tonight." At that he gave you another quick hug, his hand rubbing your back over the top of your light jacket before you headed your separate ways.

You enjoyed the walk home. It gave you the perfect chance to just mellow out and walk off a bit of your breakfast. You tucked your hands into the pockets for your vest, your white thermal keeping your arms covered. You headed down Pearl Street, watching as the little shops and boutiques began to set up their patios and side walk spaces for their Saturday. You took in the clean fresh mountain air deep into your lungs and allowed a warm smile to cross your lips.

From Pearl to 9th you went, hooking a right up 9th until you walked to the corner of Pine, and onto the porch of the nice and spacious condo you closed escrow on just weeks ago.

That deep feeling of home greeted you as you stepped inside, wiping your boots on your door mat just before kicking them off and setting them by the back door you’d come through. The cream walls invited you in, the oak furniture and fixtures, a feature that reminded you of home, the decor you grew up with, a safe place.

You'd bought the condo outright with the money you'd inherited from Ransom's untimely death and subsequent estate. You knew before you'd even stepped foot into the property initially, that it'd become yours. The week you closed escrow, you and your parents moved you into the three bedroom, three and a half bath condo, never looking back.

The open floor plan and panoramic views had stolen your breath and it was then, the first night your parents had left you alone, too anxious to sleep alone, you had fallen in love with the sunrise, seeing it from your front garden patio, bundled up with tea and a wool blanket. All three rooms in the space had no adjoining walls and their own en-suites. The master bedroom, your room, was massive. An en-suite with walk in shower, soaking tub and Jack and Jill sinks. Two walk in closets that you knew you'd probably never fill completely, an Eastwardly view and balcony. The two spare rooms, were separated, one on the second floor down the hall from yours where it's balcony looked West, as it were above the garage and the third on the top and final floor with its own balcony. That was your office space, a spot for you to work and to breathe in the fresh air.

Everything in that condo was yours, down to the logs you'd put in your fireplace and the silly little amenities you'd given yourself from knickknacks to the colour of your dishes. There was one space however you left untouched. And only your parents had been inside to pack away your unused things as storage space. That room was your basement. You didn't need to go down there, you figured if you needed something from there, you'd go buy it anyway. All that was truly stored down there anyway were things from your childhood your mother insisted on you bringing along.

As if her ears were burning, your phone buzzed from your back pocket, revealing your mother calling.

"Hey, Mom." You answered.

"Hi, honey. I was just calling to see how you were doing. Check in on you." You could hear the worry in her voice and you couldn't help but smile.

"I'm really good, Mom. It’s been good here." "You still hiking every day?" She sounded hopeful now. "Lately it's just been on the weekends. I've been really busy at work, which isn't exactly a bad thing either." You had made your way to your room, looking for some lounge pants to change into while you continued your conversation. "Well, busy is a blessing. Do you have anything planned for today or...." "Uh, well I just had breakfast with a friend from work who I'm also meeting for drinks later." You smirked at the thought. There was a joyful sigh that poured into your ear from the ear piece, "Oh, this friend wouldn’t happen to be the mysterious Andy you’ve name dropped the last few calls would it?" You hesitated, "y..ye...yeah." Then you heard the tell-tale sound of your mother's chuckle. “We’re just friends.” "I'm not saying anything." You could picture her with her hands held up in defence. "You sound happy." “I am. I feel okay, more than okay even. I’m good.” "Alright. Well, don’t waste your day. Enjoy it. Your dad and I will talk soon." “Yeah, listen Mom, why don’t you come over for a few days in a couple of weeks? You’ve not been since the week you came to help me move in. It would be nice to show you round now I’ve got my bearings.” "We would love that. I'll have your father look at booking some time." “Okay just let me know. Tell Daddy I said hi.” "I will, sweetie. Love you, bye.” "I love you too, Mom, bye." The seventeenth of July, a date that you hope one day will come to mean nothing and be like any other day. But for now, it was a sting that reminded you of all that had happened. Not unlike Halloween, a day in which you'll forever hold in a fearful anxious place in your soul. It served as a reminder of the moment your life had taken a very dark turn, a darkness that you were still, in a lot of ways, finding your way through. Ransom. His name still tasted sour on your tongue. But left a sadness over your heart like a sheer curtain. You had truly hoped he wasn't going to revert back to the beast that held you captive. But you were wrong, and post the revelation of the real reason he had taken you, he’d been far more brutal and cruel than he had with you before, something you’d thought was impossible. And he’d broken you for a second time, or so you’d let him think. Desperate to escape his clutches, you’d done the only thing you could- you’d killed him. Whilst you may not have held the knife, you’d arranged it all. And, even though it had been an absolute last resort, you’d be lying if you said there hadn’t been a satisfaction to watching him bleed out and choke on his own blood. The realisation that had clouded his arrogantly handsome features as he came to understand it was your doing would be forever etched into your brain. That said, it made you feel a little bit queasy when you thought about how taking someone’s life could make you feel a sick sense of pleasure. The nightmares had plagued you for months after. The torture which sleep brought you only ceased around the time things were settled within the system between you and his parents. With a deep sigh and the need for distraction, you set about some spot cleaning in between loads of laundry and by early afternoon you had settled in on your couch with a beer and your latest box set binge. Not two episodes in and your phone pinged next to you.

With a smirk, you snapped a photo of your beer bottle in your hand and a few moments later his response came through.

The angel made you laugh, a direct reference to his teasing before. But before you could reply, you got another text with simply saying “fuck it” along with a picture of a tumblr of whiskey on his desk. With a snort you replied

With a smile you tossed your phone down onto the seat beside you, and resumed your watching.

***** Andy was kidding when he playfully said he'd be there by 6:45, fully intending on their agreed upon 6:30. But, he was late. He'd been so involved with his brief that he'd lost track, and for the first time since meeting her, was late for a meet up with Y/N. She was fully understanding as he'd text her apologizing for the time as he'd rushed out of the office and quickly headed for Pearl Street. He'd gotten very lucky with close parking and literally stepped inside Oskar's Taproom promptly at 6:45. He found Y/N sitting at the bar, her hair down, a nicely fitted black tee and skinny denim jeans, her foot tapping against her bar stool in waiting. Next to her was an empty stool and a full, cold looking tall pilsner on the bar, saving his space.

"Hey," he said as he leaned into her, a gentle hand on her back, getting her attention.

Y/N startled a bit but realized it was Andy and grinned, "'bout time! I was going to get started on yours without you." She nodded to the cold beer. “I’m so sorry.” He shook his head, “I just got caught up.” "Well, you haven't stood me up yet, so I trusted you'd show." “And I did tell you 6:45 before. You know, on account of you being a cheeky little shit.” She rolled her eyes at him, "whatever." She smirked. He slid onto the stool next to her and took a long pull of his beer, damned it tasted good. He gave an appreciative sigh and turned to her. “So, do anything much this afternoon?” "I did absolutely nothing, well nothing of importance. Talked to my mom, did laundry, you know nothing exciting." “To be honest, sounds like a pretty good afternoon.” He chuckled. “Sometimes there’s nothing better than laying in front of the TV with no where you have to be.” "Cheers to that," she raised her glass to him. He clinked his with hers and returned the smile she had. The blues band that was set to play happy hour was starting to tune up and it gave Andy an idea. "What do you say we find a spot in the patio, little less noise." “Sounds good.” She nodded. Andy flagged the bartender down for another round to take with them. But before Y/N could pick up her glass, Andy took it for her and gestured with her head for her to go on in front. She looked a little surprised at his act of basic good manners, and not for the first time. He'd often seen her look at him in a similar way when he held doors open for her or helped her with her jacket. It made him wonder what kind of asshole Drysdale had been. But, then again, he got the impression it hadn’t been a particularly happy relationship to start. Not that it was any of his business, nor was he one to talk. The last seven months he’d been married to Laurie had been as strained as they'd ever got. They found a spot at a two top near the corner of the patio at the gate that separated it from the sidewalk. Andy waited for Y/N to sit before he set their glasses on the high top table and took his own seat. "So...much better," he leaned in across the table. "Love this place, but it's not always the best for conversation." “Yeah but it has a good atmosphere.” She smiled. “I like it. Not the type of place that-“ she stopped dead and took a deep breath. “Doesn’t matter.” He half smiled, "you know, I've been meaning to tell you, it's okay to talk to me about anything you want. No pressure, no strings. Just a friendly ear." She smiled. “I know, thanks. And the same goes for you too.” For the first time, an interesting silence came between them. They each sipped their drinks in an almost a mirrored like fashion and chuckled when through. "I think that's the first time we've ever not had something to say." Y/N shrugged. He nodded, and then she took a deep breath. “I was just gonna say its not the type of place Ransom would ever have taken me. He’d have thought it beneath him.” "I think that's the first time you've ever mentioned his name." He pointed out. "Yeah, I try not to. It's uh," he watched her as she struggled to start her story, playing nervously with the earring in her ear. "Complicated." He leaned on the table, his forearms crossed and supporting his weight. He wanted her to know she had his full attention. “Well, from what I know about him, which granted is only what I saw on the news or heard around Boston, he certainly enjoyed the finer things in life.” "That's one way of looking at." She chuckled dryly. "It wasn't an easy marriage, despite how short lived." "Well, I was with Laurie since law school and we still had our ups and downs. I don't think marriage is easy in general." Andy admitted. "I was with Ransom less than nine months before we got married. It, uh, lasted three weeks."

Andy paused, “okay, so granted Laurie and I were a whirlwind what with her falling pregnant so fast but... I’ll give you that one.” “A whirlwind?” She asked and Andy nodded. “Yeah, we hadn’t even been together a year when she got pregnant with Jake. Not gonna lie, I shit myself but...” he sighed, swallowing. “Well, he was worth it.” "I'm sure he was." She nodded. Andy cleared his throat. “He was a good kid, despite what he, well what he was accused of.” “I can’t even begin to imagine how that felt, for any of you.” She said gently. “Fucking shit.” He said bluntly. She blinked and then the pair of them laughed quietly. "I'm sorry, Andy. And I mean that in all sincerity." He sighed and gave a soft little smile. “Thanks. You know, for the most part it’s just happy memories. But then sometimes it’s hard...” he trailed off shaking his head, “but of course you’ll know that.” “Suppose so.” She shrugged. “I doubt our marriage was anything near as loving as yours. I, uh...well, Ransom was mentally abusive, very controlling. Getting married wasn't exactly what I'd wanted but, I felt trapped in a way." She paused as he listened intently. "I guess it's harder to explain than I thought." She bit her lip and then shook her head. “Then the asshole went and got himself killed.” "I hate that you had to witness that." She shrugged and her finger swiped at the condensation on the outside of her half empty beer glass. “It was a year ago today.” “Jesus fucking Christ.” Andy shook his head in shock as he took a deep breath. “I’m so sorry.” “I’m not.” She sighed. “And I know that probably sounds awful but... I don’t mourn him, I can’t. Not after everything. I’m just glad to be away and out of it. Fuck, that makes me sound like a really cold hearted bitch.” She scrunched her nose and chuckled a bit. Andy cocked his head to one side, studying her face which was, despite what she said, laced with sadness and he took a deep breath. There was more to her story than she was telling him, he could see that, but he had his own secrets too. And he found himself realising he didn’t care. Moving away post the accident that claimed Jake and later Laurie’s life had been a way for him to leave all that shit behind. And she was trying to do the same. “Okay, let’s make a deal.” He leaned forward. “No reverse gear. We look forward and not back, at least not at the hard stuff.” It took a moment for her to process it, and Andy watched her expression behind her eyes as he did so. Then she smiled, "deal." Andy smiled as she reached for her beer. He watched her pretty face as she drained her glass, setting it down in the table before she leaned towards him. “Have you eaten? Because I’ve suddenly got a hankering for something greasy and very bad for me.” “Sounds like someone I used to work with.” Andy shot before he could stop himself and Y/N threw her head back in a loud laugh. “Lawyers for you.” “Hey, not all of us are jerks.” He pouted and she shrugged. “Jury’s out.” She winked. At that Andy raised his brows, downed the rest of his pint and then stood up. “Something dirty and greasy that isn’t an attorney coming up, I’ll grab us a menu.” They each ordered a greasy, filthy cheeseburger with all the fixings and two smaller beers a piece to go with it. They moved their conversation away from their pasts and talked music as the band played some songs they were familiar with. Y/N finding the perfect moment to joke with Andy again about his age versus hers, despite it being maybe seven or eight years. Neither seemed to mind. Again, when the bill came, Andy slapped his card down before Y/N even had a chance to grab her wallet, which caused him to laugh loudly at her pout. “You’ll just have to get it next time.” “Oh," she smirked, "so that’s your game? You paid, so I owe you a next time?” He shrugged. “Would that be such a bad thing?” She bit her lip and grinned with a shake of her head. “No, not really.” “Good, I’ll hold you to that. And, as a lawyer I feel obliged to tell you that’s a legally recognised verbal contract.” “Uh, I’m sure there’s a rule that a social agreement made between friends is done so without an intention of being enforceable.” Y/N shot back and Andy felt his mouth curl up on a little surprised smirk. “Therefore no intent, no legal comeback. Your move, Counselor.” He laughed and shook his head. “Nope, I got nothing.” “In that case, I call recess.” She grinned. “Oh faahk off with the legal puns!” Andy snorted and once more she laughed as they stood up, their night at an end. He walked behind Y/N with a gentle hand on her back as she weaved through the tables on the patio, eventually ending up on the sidewalk out front.

"Thanks, for breakfast, dinner, drinks," Y/N shook her head, feigning annoyance. Andy smirked, "thanks for meeting me. You're not walking home are you?" "I can, it's not far." She replied, folding her arms over her chest.

"Absolutely not, I'll take you," he nodded his head in the direction in which his car was. He gave a small wink when she accepted his offer. He held the door open for you as you slid into the passenger seat of his Audi TT. You quickly realized that this was the first time you'd been in his car and the very first time he would see your doorstep. However, the thought of both those things didn't bother you one bit. In fact, you found yourself more comfortable than you'd expected.

All in all the drive was no more than five minutes, and if he hadn’t been going that way already, you’d have felt like a complete fraud, but he assured you it was on his way.

You helped yourself out but Andy waited for you around the front hood and walked you to your doorstep, lit by the lantern porch light your Home Owners Association contract insisted be up. "So, this is me," you sighed. Andy had his hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans and he rocked a little on his heels as he waited for you to open your front door. When you'd opened it, he scratched behind his neck and said, "so I'll see you Monday?" "Yeah," you agreed. He turned to go but you called out to him, "Hey, Andy?" He quickly turned back to you, his one foot on your stoop, the other the next step down, "yeah?" In a sudden moment of courage, you stood on your toes and placed a soft kiss to his cheek. His smooth cheek and the slightly rough yet softer than anticipated scratch of those dark whiskers, intermittent speckled with auburn, felt amazing against your lips. And fuck, did he smell amazing. Which you knew already from the tight and friendly hugs he'd seemed to start giving you. The first hit of his aftershave was always the same, dominated by a white-out of bergamot and pepper, a bright flash of sweet, dewy citrus that is both crisp and clean, underpinned by a freshness that was both light and gentle and completely different to the heavy sandalwood based fragrance you’d grown so used to. It was brief, but when you pulled back, you gave a content huff, “Huh.” “What?” He was clearly puzzled. “Your beard. It’s kinda soft.” “What? What the hell did you expect?” He laughed. “I dunno, maybe a toilet brush type bristle.” “You kiss a lot of toilet brushes Y/N?” “Try not to.” She winked. “Thanks again, Andy. I enjoyed today.” He chuckled and shook his head as he watched you turn back to your door and finally stepped inside your home. Before you closed the door, you turned back, noticing he was watching you go in. "Bye."

"Goodnight, Y/N."

**** Chapter 2

#consciousness of guilt #andy barber #andy barber x reader #andy barber x you #andy barber fanfiction #chris evans #chris evans characters #reader insert

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