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ev-pierce-writes · 3 years

Text

Quantum Entanglement

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader

Words: 6.4k (oops)

Rating: 18+ (get outta here ya children)

Summary: Steve Rogers decides to disappear, take some time for himself in the solitude of a small town where he meets you.

Warnings: p in v. oral fem receiving. size kink (reader is much smaller than Steve in more ways than one). soft (very very soft) fem dom.

AN: This is stupid soft. Just simping all over the gd place. I'm so sorry but my baby Steve deserves nothing but the purest, sweetest form of love and that's what he's getting, though I imagine he likes to be ordered around. Took me way too long to feel good about this.

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There had been the snap. And then the resurrection. Steve had lost everyone he loved and then had most of them returned, and it felt good to go back to normal, in some ways. In other ways, it was stifling.

As the world reeled and tried to figure out how to "be normal" in a time that was anything but, normalcy felt forced, rushed, exaggerated. He wanted to be in this world, of course. The 1940s were no longer his home, and Steve had everything he wanted here. But he didn't feel complete. A piece was always missing, something from a past life, that he couldn't quite name but knew he had to find.

So he disappeared. Went undercover as some might call it. Bucky knew, of course, and Sam on some level. But to the rest of the world, he had slipped quietly back into the past to live the rest of his life. In reality, he'd slipped into Herrington, Massachusetts, a small coastal town where he was invisible to the world.

He'd found a little house, a cottage on the beach, and settled in completely. He didn't need a job, the government was more than willing to pay him a severance check of some sort, but he took one anyway, stocking the local grocery store and delivering groceries to the elderly when they ordered. It was just antiquated enough to remind him of a faraway time, of the past, but didn't force him to give up his wifi and color television. That was something he'd come to love.

And that was where he met you. You, the petite spitfire with a bone to pick with the entire world. Fierce, loyal, and slightly terrifying when double-crossed. The first time he met you, you had come out of your great-aunt's house shaking a fist over the groceries.

"I told Mr. Pierce," you were yelling, "not to skimp me on the meat." Mr. Pierce was the grocery store owner. And the meat in question was a roast, for what purpose, Steve wasn't sure, but one that apparently did not satisfy your desires.

You hadn't been the one to answer the door, that was your great-aunt Agnes, a kind, leather-faced woman who liked to tip Steve a healthy amount for "carrying all those heavy groceries for a silly old lady like me."

"It's no problem ma'am," he'd replied and stepped back toward his motorcycle, recently decked out with a basket on the back to transport deliveries. Then you'd chased him down the road until he noticed you and stopped, shouting all the way.

"When you see him," you said, your finger wagging in his face, puffing and out of breath from your yelling and running, "tell the bastard that's the last time he gets away with making me pay for his shitty cuts of meat."

Steve didn't really know what to say, but then your face softened, your voice calmed, and you took a deep breath. Maybe the panicked look on his face had made you have a change of heart. "I apologize for yelling at you, I know you're just the messenger. But that slimy son-of-a-bitch is going to get what's coming for him someday."

"I'll let him know," Steve replied with half a smile on his face.

"You aren't from around here are you?" you had asked, a sudden look of curiosity in your bright eyes.

Steve nodded. "Just moved here."

"Look, I'm really sorry." You stuck out your hand and introduced yourself, and Steve had found that hand to be surprisingly supple and calloused for its tiny size. "Let me make it up to you. Aunt Agnes seems to like you. We're having a potluck tonight, her place. Why don't you come by and meet the neighbors? I'm sure they'd love a new face, especially one as handsome and friendly as yours. Maybe make some friends, even."

You were being surprisingly friendly and sincere, and Steve had no choice but to accept the invitation.

So that's how he ended up in an old lady's backyard, handing off a bowl of his mother's jello salad (it was a potluck after all), and accepting a beer from a man who looked similar enough to be your brother (a cousin, it turned out). You didn't even notice his arrival, flying about, getting everything set up, taking part in the appropriate amount of small talk. Earlier, when you'd chased Steve down the road, your hair had been flung all about your head, wisps of it sticking out from all directions and looking positively a mess. You'd been wearing jeans with mud on the knees and a t-shirt that had more holes than necessary for your arms and head. Now, your hair was pinned back and tamed and you floated about in a soft blue sundress, revealing a delicate plane of skin across your shoulders and tan arms and legs.

The calloused hands and muddy jeans made sense now as well. The backyard of Aunt Agnes' house was primarily a garden, not only beautiful rose bushes and creeping wisteria but rows and rows of fruits and vegetables, cucumbers, tomatoes, watermelon, strawberries. The work was obviously the product of a talented gardener.

Aunt Agnes was the one to welcome him in, having noticed Steve before you did and taking his arm. She began to talk, of you and the neighborhood and her many, many family members. She introduced them one by one, though most of the names he immediately forgot. But it was a blessing to not be recognized and he relished the feeling. Sure, he'd grown out his beard and his hair was a bit longer than the standard military high and tight, and he wore a flannel with the sleeves rolled up instead of red, white, and blue spangles, but it still amazed him that he could pass through the world like this.

Eventually, the conversations became too much, and Steve excused himself to the kitchen to find a drink while he waited for the food to be ready. Really he just wanted some silence, a relief from society. But you'd beat him there, and, ever the busy bee, were scrambling to fill a cooler with more ice.

"Steve!" you exclaimed when you saw him, pleasant surprise plastered across your face. "I'm so glad you came."

You reached out and gave him a hug that took Steve so much by surprise he almost forgot to return it. It was shockingly warm, your arms around his neck, and though he had to stoop down to your level, he wrapped his arms around your waist anyways.

"I hope they didn't overwhelm you out there. My family can be a lot."

"No, not at all. Just needed some quiet. I'll let you get back to work."

"I could actually use your help if you don't mind."

You directed him into the front room toward a stack of boxes, cases of drinks he assumed. When Steve returned to the kitchen, all four boxes piled in his arms, you nearly dropped the glasses in your hands in shock. You recovered quickly, trying to remain polite despite your poorly hidden astonishment, but Steve could already tell you were trying to compute how he had managed to carry over a hundred pounds of drinks in one go.

"You can, um, put them on the counter I guess," you managed to stutter out. Your sudden flustered state was amusing, and Steve noticed he liked the way you seemed almost embarrassed, cheeks flushed pink, though he had no idea why you should feel that way.

But then you picked back up with your normal bubbly chatter, and Steve found himself lingering longer and longer in the kitchen with you until he realized neither of you were doing anything but talking, the work abandoned in lieu of discussions about the town, your stall at the farmers market, and eventually, very naturally, the passing of your parents. The slip into deep conversation was easy, surprisingly easy, easier than it had ever been with anyone else, even though Steve felt himself having to lie a bit about his past. Sure, he could admit to being from Brooklyn and having no family and his stint in the military, but that was about the extent of it. He found himself wanting to tell you more but refraining.

When your cousin called that food was ready from the backyard, the jolt back to reality was abrupt and almost unwelcome, until you smiled and allowed him to put a hand on your back, pulling Steve out to enjoy some food.

As night fell, lights twinkled on in the backyard, and the summer heat reduced to a light thrum as the breeze from the ocean swept through the town. Fireflies glowed in the darkness of the low trees behind the house and you seemed to glow as well, good food and friendly conversation lighting your face up with joy. You caught Steve's eye several times during the night, noticing him watching you from across the garden, but he didn't care. He liked that his attention made you smile.

Finally, the party began to dwindle, as parents with young kids trickled out, followed by the older folks, heading off to bed. Soon, even Aunt Agnes turned in and only the cousins close to you in age remained. They pulled out the stronger bottles of alcohol, sitting in plastic chairs and passing shots around the barbeque that still glowed hot with coals. Steve accepted every pass of vodka that came his way, despite knowing it wouldn't get him even remotely drunk. But the camaraderie of the moment helped ease a bit of that gaping hole in his soul so he clung to it as best he could. And you were sitting next to him, insisting he take a sip, and again he couldn't turn you down.

"And then Jack nearly sunk the boat in the bay," you were saying, telling the story of one of your cousin's finer moments. "Your dad almost killed us."

"Oh you want to bring that up?" he teased. "How about the time you snuck out and Aunt Agnes caught you making out with Michael on the beach."

You blushed bright red at the reminder but protested that was years ago. Then another cousin brought up his own late-night escapades and you devolved into a fit of giggles, leaning so far out of your chair that Steve had to catch you before you slipped right to the ground. Your hand gripped his to recover but, to his surprise, you never removed it, even as you righted yourself in your seat. Your hand just remained in his, your small fingers wrapped in his large ones, as you turned to pester him into telling a story.

"What about you Steve? Tell us an embarrassing story."

He looked around at the group and they leaned in expectantly, curious to know more about the stranger who was quickly becoming a friend. Steve didn't know what to say, most of his stories involving things he wasn't yet ready to reveal about himself. So he picked one from long ago.

"I once picked a fight with a guy at a bar. He was a bit of a Nazi. Got my ass kicked. Fortunately, I had a friend to back me up or he definitely would have killed me."

Everyone looked shocked. "But you're so strong," someone spoke up. "Look at you. How could anyone beat you in a fight?"

Steve shrugged, not wanting to admit to it being a pre-serum story. "Guess I'm a bit of a pacifist."

He turned to you to gauge your reaction. Your eyes were wide, sparkling with mischief and curiosity and a hint of disbelief. For a moment Steve thought you had figured it out, figured out who he was, but then you started giggling again and the only thing keeping you in your seat was his hand in yours.

"That's not embarrassing Steve, that's just the most fucking noble thing I've ever heard. Making us all look bad."

Your teasing words made his heart flutter in his chest and he felt like he could get used to this crowd.

Eventually, the coals of the barbeque started to wink out, and the cousins excused themselves for the night, heading home on foot to the various houses they had come from. It seemed no one lived too far apart in this town. Suddenly, the backyard was quiet.

"Can I give you a hand cleaning up?" Steve asked, not wanting to leave you with the job that looked a bit overwhelming to him.

You looked around and shrugged, a little tipsy but fully aware that it was a big mess. "I'll probably just take care of it in the morning. Can you just help me get the dishes inside?"

Steve obediently gathered up plates and cups, filling the dishwasher in several trips. Finally, the last were inside and you stood in the kitchen filling the sink to wash the pots and pans while Steve tried awkwardly to find a way to say goodbye.

"Um, thank you," he said at last, "for welcoming me into your community. It means a lot. I'll, uh, see you later I guess. Have a good night."

You stopped your scrubbing to look up at him, bubbles up to your elbows, your face flushed from the warm night air and the alcohol.

"Steve?"

"Yeah?"

You paused, hesitant, eyes searching his face for confirmation of a mutual feeling. "Do you ever feel like you were meant to meet someone? For a reason?"

The question hit him like a ton of bricks, and he realized that this night had made him feel exactly that way, that somehow he was meant to end up here and meet you, of all people. Why else had there been an instant connection unless this was just the way you were with everyone?

But your question made him think otherwise. You had to be special. Steve, in that moment, could do nothing but nod in affirmation. And then, like you had both had the same thought at the same moment, you were meeting him halfway, rising on your tiptoes, wrapping your arms around his neck, and kissing him. Really, truly, kissing him.

It was like that missing piece had found itself. You slotted your soul into his and Steve was pressing you to his chest, wrapping his arms around you, and lifting you so he didn't have to bend down to reach you. Your wet hands tangled into his slightly too long hair, pulling him impossibly closer, tasting one another's tongues.

And that was the start of it, of late-night motorcycle rides down the causeway, of Saturdays spent on the beach that tapered into drinks with friends, of dinners filled with your chatter and smiles and laughter, and Steve couldn't believe how lucky he was. He was not used to this feeling, of building friendship and companionship and perhaps even love. And he certainly wasn't used to the intense desire to reach out and pinch your ass every time you showed up at his house wearing those gardening jeans, high-waisted and tight and so goddamn cute.

But he never did, was never sure how you'd react. You kissed him, a lot in fact, every morning that he came over and every night that he dropped you off at home. And you never shied away from telling him how handsome he was, how much you liked his hands and his arms and his short beard, how sweet he was and kind and soft and gentle. So many words, words that made his head spin and his world wobble and sway. But it never came to be more than that, never late at night when he was thinking of you most. And oh lord, did he think about you, how your small frame might fit against his in bed while you spooned and slept, or how tight you'd be if he fucked you until the sun rose. He didn't particularly like sleeping in bed, it was too soft for his taste and he tended to take the couch or even the floor most nights, but he would sleep in bed for you if you would just tell him that was what you wanted.

It was like you were waiting for the right moment. And apparently, that moment was July 4th, during the annual celebration. Steve had whispered to you that it was consequently also his birthday, and had begged you to keep that a secret, but it seemed you had simply forgotten the fact entirely. The day passed without mention that Steve was turning 39 (105 if he'd been really counting) and you kissed him as the fireworks exploded over the ocean, sitting in the sand, hands tangled together. He thought the two of you would sit through the show, but then you were standing and pulling him to his feet as well and slipping away as everyone else's faces were turned to the sky.

At your house, you pulled a small cake from the fridge, just big enough to split between two people, and lit a couple of candles as you sat next to him at the kitchen table. Of course, you hadn't forgotten.

"Make a wish," you said with a happy smile. So he did, hoping this summer would never end. "What did you wish for?"

"Can't tell you, otherwise it won't come true," he replied. But then you pouted and he lost all resolve. "How about I show you instead?"

The look on your face said it all, shock mixed with intrigue and the mischief he had noticed that first night almost a week ago. So he reached down and tugged your chair closer, forcing you to face him with your knees between his. And then he leaned over and kissed you, taking your small cheeks in his large palms, putting all the power of his suppressed feelings behind it. He hoped you understood that he wanted more than to just kiss you, he wanted to occupy space inside you, fill you, complete you. Steve could feel your smile against his lips.

You pulled away. "Did you wish that I was dessert instead of the cake?

"I might have. Should we make my wish come true?"

Again you smiled, bright and guiding like a lighthouse torch, and something in your demeanor changed. Instantly, you were relenting to his touch, letting him pull you further into his lap, straddling his waist and settling into him like that was where you were meant to be. The quiet house, probably as old as him in this New England town, creaked in the silence of the night, only occasionally disturbed by the bang of a firework. But it all faded away with you in his arms.

You fit perfectly, just as Steve had hoped.

"You gonna be gentle with me, big man?" you whispered, that same brilliant smile on your face, wiggling as close to him as possible, the fingers of one hand tangled into the hair at the nape of his neck, the others tracing down the point of his sharp nose and pressing against his soft lips. "You gonna fuck me good? Be a good boy?"

Oh, Christ. Steve nearly lost his mind with your hips so tight against his, lost it at your words that made his heart race and color rise to his cheeks. He could be good. Really damn good. You seemed to know something about him that Steve didn't even know about himself, of how much he liked your praise, your commanding tone. If there was anything he was good at, it was taking orders.

"You just keep telling me what to do and I'm all yours," he mumbled against your fingers, the thump of his heart beating in time with yours somewhere deep in your chest, echoes of one another in the silence of the house. Your hand came to grip his chin, pushing another kiss against his mouth, a kiss with lips parted in a sigh, the mingled palate of you and him, like a glass of wine on the beach and chocolate melted on the tongue, sweeping over taste buds and breathed into starved lungs.

"Mm, you taste so good. Like you were created just for me, don't you think?" you asked.

"Built from the best material, just for you." Built to love you, he wanted to say. Steve shut up instead.

You hummed with pleasure and the hand on his chin gripped a little harder, a little more suggestively. He opened his mouth obediently as you slipped your thumb between his lips, and he let you press it against the soft muscle of his tongue. You wanted him to taste you, so he did, his teeth biting gently down on the pad of your finger, another pleasant hum running down your body and straight to his groin.

He waited for your instruction.

"Undress me."

He complied, obediently. Steve's large hands hiked your sundress up around your waist, revealing the softness of your hips. His fingers smoothed up the length of your thighs, kneading at the flesh of your ass that he had so longed to touch. Your reaction was music to his ears, a soft moan leaving your lips and breathed against his, and Steve closed his eyes, arousal spreading through his body at the thought that he was making you react this way. His length hardened, tight in his pants, pressed against the thin layer of fabric that covered the heat of your core. The thought that he might not fit flickered through his mind but it dissipated at the feeling of your fingers pressing into the rough stubble of his jawline.

Steve's hands continued to travel further up your body, taking time to release the zipper of your dress down the length of your spine, and you answered his quiet, "can I?" by pulling slightly away and lifting your arms over your head. The dress landed somewhere in the kitchen and Steve dragged you close again, arms wrapped around your back to encompass you completely, his lips finding purchase against the skin of your neck.

"Look at you, so perfect," Steve mumbled, face pressed into your hair. If he had looked up he would have seen you blush, but he was too preoccupied letting his senses discover every piece of you he could touch, smell, or taste. He wanted to envelop you, inch by inch, roaming and discovering and satiating his curiosity, but you dragged his attention back to your face.

"Hey, eyes up here," you said, pulling his face toward yours and locking gazes. The intensity of your eye contact was stunning, but there was something else behind those eyes, something other than intense attraction and unsatisfied arousal. Was it doubt? Insecurity? The reason why you kissed him for so many nights and never asked for more? You were searching for something, and it came in the form of a question. "You won't leave me after this, right?"

There it was, the bit of insecurity, a fear of loss, of transience, of lacking control. Someone had hurt you before. Maybe that's why you approached everything in life with such ferocity and sincerity. But Steve would never hurt you like that, never let you feel that way again. He hoped you could see it in his eyes the way he felt about you, but words would be more reassurance. "I'm yours tonight. And tomorrow. And the day and week and month and year after that, if you'll have me that long. Whatever it is you need, I'll give it to you."

You blinked and then smiled and pressed another quick kiss to his lips before murmuring, "touch me" against them. So he did, trailing his hands over every sliver of skin before him. He felt the goosebumps rising in their wake, the downy hair on your legs and arms, the heat of your core against him, grinding almost imperceptibly to find some kind of friction, any friction. He wanted to touch you so desperately, but he got the sense that you needed to take the lead, that it would give the control you felt you lacked. So he slid a hand down the plane of your stomach and stopped just shy of dipping into your panties, waiting for your word. But you were no longer interested in playing games. Your hand found his and pulled him lower, using his fingers to press into the seem of your cunt, and he found you slick and warm with desire.

You urged him forward. "Rub my clit, baby. Slowly. Gently."

Slowly and gently. That he could do. His fingers crept absentmindedly closer to the swollen bundle of nerves and when he landed there, touch soft and circling, you jerked against him, your whole body moving with the force of anticipation and a cry leaving your lips. And though it seemed to burn, seemed to be torture for yourself, you demanded he do it again. Your forehead leaned against his, eyes shut tight, and Steve watched as your face contorted in pleasure as he flicked and circled again and again and again.

"Yes, baby. Perfect. So good. So. Fucking. Good."

Every bit of you was soft, from your neck where he placed his kisses to the curled hair hiding the swollen bud of your clit where his fingers played gently and rhythmically. Even the orgasm that gushed from your smooth cunt and stuttered from your lips was soft. You came with a choked cry as your hand pulled him closer by the back of his head, your tits pressed to his chest. Steve looked up to watch you devolve into pleasure, eyes squeezed tightly shut, your hair messy and swirling about your face, the straps of your bra slipping from your shoulder.

"Bed. Now. Right now," you demanded before you even had a chance to come down from your high. He would have been just as happy to have you in the kitchen, just like that, but Steve picked you up, with you latched to his chest like a koala, and carried you upstairs. You felt feather-light in his arms, easily tossed onto the mattress, your hands reaching out to pull his white t-shirt overhead and grab at the plane of his chest. Even as Steve kissed you again you couldn't stop tracing your fingertips over the lines of his torso, the ridges of his abs, the v-line that led tantalizingly toward the waistband of his pants. He felt his cock twitch and strain against the fabric of his boxers, the rough cotton not enough to stimulate him but enough to make him ache for your pussy. Your fluttering hands were not helping and Steve pictured your thin fingers wrapping around his length.

"Look at you," you said. "You're fucking perfect." It was Steve's turn to blush.

Steve wasn't...inexperienced. But it had been a while, to say the least, since he'd had the time or energy or capacity to even feel attracted to anyone. And even longer, perhaps never, since he felt the way he felt about you, like a bee to a flower, drunk on sweet nectar and high on honey. That was you, the delicate flower, so small and tender beneath him, yet as stunning and resonating and thunderous as the fireworks bursting somewhere overhead.

Fighting to survive was all Steve had known for so long, standing up to the bully and helping the fallen to their feet, that it was a relief to not have to be that man for you. You didn't require protection or help or anything from him at all, and yet you welcomed his presence endlessly. Steve realized he was not a need for you, but a want, and for the first time he felt valued for something real, something that wasn't just his brute strength, but something almost bordering on love. This he understood as he stared at your sweet face, caging you beneath him in bed.

"Earth to Steve," you said softly as your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling his pelvis down toward yours and dragging a deep groan from his lungs. He hadn't noticed he'd stopped kissing you and was getting lost in drinking you in amidst his reverie until your small hand pressed to the back of his neck and gently guided him back to your lips. But you stopped just shy, your eyebrows knitted in concern, taking his leisurely manner for uncertainty. "We can stop if you want."

"No, definitely not."

"Good. Then stop staring and kiss me."

"Where?" he teased.

"Everywhere, big man."

Everywhere was doable. So he started at your lips with one so big and breathless it rivaled Mount Everest. For a moment he let himself forget about everything except how long he could go without oxygen against your lips. But there remained more of you to taste.

Steve's lips connected with your chin and slid down your jawline, taking time to kiss the pulse of your neck and the dip of your clavicle. The fan of his breath tickled across your skin and you giggled, the purest sound of joy bubbling from your lips at his touch. More of that he wanted. So he continued down to the valley between your breasts, full and round despite your stature, removing your bra as he did so, nibbling lightly at the peaks of your chest before replacing his teeth with his pinching fingers and moving lower again. Lower toward the edge of your ribs, arched upward to meet the movement of his mouth, toward the slope of your hips, his sharp nose following each kiss as your underwear joined your bra into the abyss.

Your thighs he kissed, top to bottom, left and right, but it was your ass he couldn't get enough of, filling his grip with handfuls of your flesh, using it to pull you toward the edge of the bed where he kneeled, lifting your hips toward his face, your legs slung one over each shoulder. Steve sunk his tongue into your folds without warning and you gasped, your thighs suddenly squeezing tight around his head.

"Yes, right there," you hissed between ragged breaths.

He responded by burying deeper, gripping you harder, and moaning with delight at your overwhelming taste and scent bombarding his senses. You squirmed but didn't pull away as Steve's hands worked their way back up your stomach to cup the tissue of your breasts, the width of his palms capturing the flesh in one big handful. Your hands covered his, holding them there, forcing him to press you into the bed while his mouth left you twitching and bucking beneath his touch.

And in spite of the urgency with which Steve wished to devour you, he continued on leisurely, doing his best to build you up slowly and gently pick you apart bit by bit the way you had asked him to do it before. Your body betrayed its delight, evidenced enough by the way your legs hooked around him and held him down, but you praised him anyways, rapture falling from your lips between sporadic moans of pleasure.

"Fuck, Steve, you're so good, oh God yes, baby, you're doing so good, taste me like that," you cried, and the words spurred him onward, hurried his movements just slightly, his tongue circling your clit, fingers circling your areolas. He would do whatever you asked, jump off a cliff, take a bullet to the chest, drown himself in a river, if only to please you. But you would never ask anything of him that he couldn't give, and Steve knew the moment you asked for his heart it would be his heart you'd receive. And with that intent in his mind, he made you come undone with a silent cry.

Eventually, the trembling ceased, even as he continued to drink your release with the ministrations of his tongue.

"Oh fuck, you like the way I taste baby?" you asked. His affirmation came out muffled and sloppy between your legs. Even you were breathless, barely getting out the words, but you pushed him nonetheless. "I wanna hear you say it, Steve. You like eating me out? Like drinking my juices?"

"Fuck, yes, you taste like goddamn heaven, darling."

"Kiss me, Steve."

"Yes, ma'am."

He complied without a second thought, crawling back up your body to lean over you, giving you a taste of the heaven he had just dipped into. When your fingers found his belt, he helped you remove the rest of his clothes. And then your hands were roving down his chest again, searching blindly until they found what they were looking for. Steve groaned at your touch on his swollen cock.

You gasped. "Oh, God."

Before Steve could respond you pushed him over onto his back and straddled his thighs, eyeing the length on display before you, fingers around it as if testing the girth and finding them unable to wrap all the way around.

"Oh God," you repeated. A short laugh bubbled up from your throat, the controlling front you'd managed to maintain this whole time slipping from your tone.

"Something wrong?" he asked, feeling slightly inadequate under your scrutiny. Steve sat up to meet your eyes, hands finding their place on your hips.

You gazed at him, eyes wide and glassy. "You're gonna split me in half with that thing."

"We don't have to. Not if you aren't comfortable."

"Oh baby, I'm gonna get real comfortable sitting on your cock." Your sultry grin was back and you rose up on your knees to look down at him. Your other hand swiped between your legs, two fingers gathering the warm, wet juices of your orgasm, before joining the first around his cock. You pumped, rolling a drop of precum off the tip with your thumb and rubbing it down his length, mixing the release of your pleasure with his. Steve barely held back from bucking his hips into your hand. He would save that for your pussy.

"I want you to fill me," you whispered. "I wanna be so fucking full. Just go slowly, okay?"

"Slowly. I got you, baby girl. You can take me. Let me fill you."

Steve lifted your hips and guided you forward, aligning your entrance with his length. You moved at a crawling pace, letting gravity sink your pussy around him, pausing every inch to adjust to his intrusion. His biceps stung with the grip of your fingernails in his skin, but it was a welcome distraction from the rush of pleasure threatening to tip him over the edge prematurely. Agonizingly you dipped further, a cry falling from your lips, until you were fully seated, the tip of him pressed into the cavity behind your cervix. You were warm, so, so warm, and soft and tight and you fit perfectly, just like he knew you would.

"Fuck, Steve, you're so big."

"Am I hurting you?" he asked, wiping away a tear from your cheek with his thumb.

"No, fuck, no, you feel so good. I just--I can't move."

"I got you, darling," Steve whispered, his face falling to your chest and burying it in the soft flesh of your tits. And then he wrapped his arms around your waist and did all the moving for you, lifting you up and sinking you down again, just fast enough to make you gasp for air and whine his name. With every thrust, you cried out in pleasure.

"Don't stop, Steve, please, baby, don't stop."

The fingers of one hand tugged at his hair dampened by sweat, nails scratching lightly across his scalp, as the other fell between your legs. You pressed your fingers around your clit and along your entrance, feeling where Steve's thick cock was pushing in and out of your tight pussy, feeling how big he was, how much he filled you. The meandering touch of your fingers almost sent him straight over the edge.

But it was the slick warmth of your cunt that was too much, and Steve found himself resting his forehead more and more heavily against your chest, willing himself to give you everything you wanted before he even thought about himself. The satin scent of your skin, like talcum and rose and his cologne, intoxicated him with every breath, and he sucked and nibbled on one breast and then the other, mindlessly attending to the most sensitive parts of you. A drop of sweat rolled down your sternum and Steve chased it with his tongue, licking a warm stripe up the center of your chest.

"Tell me what you need, darling."

"Fuck, that's perfect," you whined. "You fuck me so good, baby. Don't stop. Gonna make me come--make me come so hard."

Your fingers pressed against your clit once more and then you were clenching around him, your already tight pussy settling into a pulsing vice grip, your body shaking against his while he kissed the sweat from your collar bones. Steve felt you pumping the life out of him, riding out your orgasm and dragging him closer to his. The hand that had been on your clit moved to cup the weight of his balls, pinching and massaging as they pulled in heavy with the need for release.

"Where do you want me, darling, you gotta tell me."

You practically ordered him to come inside you, told him you wanted to feel him sticky between your thighs all night and it was suddenly Steve's turn to come undone, his hot seed pumping deep inside you, his twitching member finally finding release. He moaned your name against your lips, pulling you into a final searing kiss.

When, after a good twenty minutes of not moving from that position, of breathing heavy and kissing softly, you finally pulled away to lean down and lick his cock clean, the sticky mingling of you and him on your tongue, and he had to fight the urge to get hard again. And when you kissed him again, he tasted that mingling, two souls becoming one, as they were meant to be.

He slept next to you for the first time that night, your small frame encased in his, even though there was no need to share body heat in the dead of summer. But he actually slept, no dreams, no nightmares, no waking up in the middle of the night. Just deep, heavy sleep, your head tucked beneath his chin, back to his bare chest, his hands holding your breasts, and your hands holding his. Tangled together. Souls as one.

#steve rodgers x reader #steve rogers #captain america #captain america x reader #avengers smut #captain america smut #steve rogers smut #simping for steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #captain america fanfiction

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ecoamerica · 2 months

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nbrook29 · 3 years

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love you to the moon and to saturn

This is part 4 of my Sander in NYC ‘verse. I posted it on ao3, but recently I’ve also been posting my fics on tumblr so here it is 😌

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Warnings: mild sexual content

* * *

Saturday, 10:00

His sleep was anxious, mind too preoccupied with stress to allow him to get a proper rest. The wake up was even worse as mere seconds after he blinked the sleep away from his tired eyes the memories of last night crept back in, flooding him with worry and making his brain replay the argument over and over again like a broken cassette. And then he checked his phone only to find a string of messages and missed calls, all from Sander, causing his stomach to twist with nerves at what they were going to say.

His abrupt leaving had been a dick move and if Sander was pissed, Robbe knew he couldn’t blame him. So he stalled, finger barely swiping at the screen as he was unsure whether to unlock it and face the consequences or maybe throw the phone back on his bedside table and bury himself under the covers to wait for his courage to come back and for his nerves to settle.

Heaving a sigh, he chose option number one because it was the only rational one.

He tapped Sander’s photo, holding his breath without even registering it.

Two seconds later he knew.

He didn’t need to worry.

Sunday 13:00

Robbe hides another smile into his glass at the thought of yesterday’s evening, trying to focus on what Marie is saying. She’s talking animatedly about a guy she met at her new internship, hearts almost flowing out of her eyes as she swoons on the wooden stool and sips her black coffee. She’s the kind of girl who falls in love quickly and falls out of love just as quick. Across from where he’s sitting, he sees Fien and Lucas rolling their eyes at her exaggerated lovesick sighes making him snort in his marshmallow latte.

“Weren’t you obsessed with that lanky guy from Starbucks last week? What happened to him?”

Marie shrugs, tossing her long brown hair back from her shoulders. “I decided he was too old for me.”

“Didn’t you say he was 21?” Robbe interjects with amusement, remembering their group messenger chat he caught up with this morning.

“Exactly!”

They all start bickering about the appropriate age difference in relationships, Robbe watching them as he munches happily on one of the soggy marshmallows he fished out from his cup, trying not to giggle at Lucas’ scandalized face at Marie calling 21 old. Robbe knows from the many stories Lucas has shared so far that his own boyfriend is a senior at college so his reaction is even more entertaining because of that.

It feels good to be around them again, Robbe thinks to himself. He’s been canceling on them way too often those last few weeks and he still feels guilty about it. They’re a fun bunch, their bantery dynamic established since day one when they all chose the middle row to sit in during their morning classes, and then promptly spent half of it bonding over the outrageous occurrence that was the absence of a coffee shop on the campus. Not long after, Robbe also discovered that apart from the passion for filmmaking, they all also like skateboarding. After that, the rest was history.

They were for sure a nice distraction from Robbe’s intrusive thoughts in the beginning of the semester. He lucked out, finding his group, his people, so early on in his college journey. But at some point even their goofiness and honest attempts at cheering him up weren’t enough. Not since the news from Sander came that he’s staying in New York until February and since the thing with Jens.

Now, observing them from over his half-drunk coffee, lips twitching at some of the more creative but still lowkey insults Marie and Lucas throw at each other, he realizes he has really missed them. They’re like siblings, the two of them, constantly bickering and teasing one another, but it’s all good-natured and amusing to watch.

“Oh my god, let it go, children, for the love of god,” Fien cuts in abruptly, before turning her big expectant eyes on Robbe, twirling a lock of her hair around her finger and adding innocently, “I’d finally like to hear about Sobbe’s makeup.”

Heat rushes to Robbe’s cheeks and he scratches at the back of his neck, bashful all of a sudden. She’s the number one fangirl of his relationship, he has learned recently, but in a cute way, not creepy like Aaron sometimes used to be with his invasive questions. She always moans about being forever single, pouting at Robbe for some fluffy snippets and claiming in faux-seriousness that he owes it to the world to share them with others for being lucky enough to have a fairytale-like love story.

Robbe has never disclosed to them how unfairytale-like some of the details are because it’s not his story to tell. But he really likes her so he always indulges her, usually after a bit of teasing. And, sue him, but he’s proud of his relationship and the fact that he of all people can call Sander his boyfriend, so even if he brags a little, he thinks he has good reasons for it.

(He’s still kinda smug when he thinks about the time when he showed the three of them a photo of Sander, a pleased little smile on his face at their reactions and playful threats of stealing him for themselves.)

“Oh yeah, I wanna know too,” Marie agrees excitedly, scooting her chair closer to him. “You’ve been all smiley ever since you came over here so I’m guessing that hottie of yours did something right,” she ends on a teasing note, her waggling eyebrows leaving Robbe no doubts she expects some saucy details.

“Oh my god, stop,” he groans as he hides his face in his hands, his friends giggling at his embarrassment. “It wasn’t like that! We just… finally talked things out.”

Saturday, 18:00 (flashback to last night)

Robbe’s been gnawing on his bottom lip relentlessly, completely unaware, to the point it’s a few bites away from drawing blood. He can’t help but feel nervous, the cursor hovering over the 'accept' button as he's rolling his eyes on himself internally, telling himself to stop making a bigger deal out of this that it needs to be. There is a bit of embarrassment clouding his logical reasoning to be honest, embarrassment about his overreaction last night.

Was it an overreaction? He's still not completely sure, but it's not like avoiding the situation is going to magically fix everything between them. Even though he'd really like that. It feels so awkward to be in this position. Robbe doesn't know what the protocol here is. They bicker, quite often even. Fight a little too, stomping off out of each other’s room grumpily but only over stupid stuff, nothing like this.

He's walking on an unknown ground just hoping he's not going to make things worse. He desperately needs their dynamic back because he's already over it.

Not being able to share the most mundane every day stuff with each other over texts to joke about it, rile the other up or just vent about something stupid like their coffees not being hot enough on a given rainy morning sucks.

So he takes a deep breath and clicks on the button before he works himself into a never-ending second-guessing.

When Sander says a soft hi and smiles at him with the usual warmth in his eyes, something akin to relief courses through him from head to toe.

He gives him his own tentative smile and a short hi, pushing himself higher against the pillows. Before Sander can say anything more, he lets go of what has been weighing down on him the entire day.

“I’m sorry,” he starts, contrite. “About yesterday. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have just logged off like that without explanation. And then ignore your messages,” he adds after a pause because that’s what he feels most guilty about. He knows he’d freak out if Sander just cut him off without giving him an opportunity to talk things out, would worry himself sick.

Sander looks conflicted, brows knitted together, like a part of him wants to reassure Robbe because it's in his nature, but the other part is genuinely hurt. Robbe doesn't want compassion. Not for that, because he knows he doesn’t deserve it. Causing Sander distress is the last thing he wants.

"Yeah, it did suck," he finally admits after a moment passes, and Robbe finds comfort in his honesty. It’s a good start. They won’t get anywhere with false niceties and pretending everything’s fine. Robbe tried pretending, yesterday and most of their calls before that, and it got them where they are now.

“I mean, I know you didn’t want to talk about your problems yesterday,” pausing, he scrunches up his nose a bit, “but maybe next time just don’t log off so abruptly so I know you’re okay?” his voice tilts on a hopeful note.

Robbe just nods, feeling shameful, hating that there’s not much more that he can do when he’s talking to him through his computer, and can’t exactly reach out to cuddle up to Sander’s side or kiss the underside of his jaw as a silent apology to then stay close for the rest of the evening as they heal together.

It’s frustrating and disheartening, but it affects them both the same amount and Robbe needs to remember that. Because the truth is, Sander didn’t exactly give him a legitimate reason to doubt him or to think he didn’t miss him. Those full of hurt eyes Sander gave him yesterday at the suggestion have been eating away at him all day.

Robbe just got swallowed by his own insecurities and let the little things that bothered him consume him all instead of, well. Communicating.

Sander was right yesterday. Of course he was.

He knows he has some more apologies to give.

“I’m also sorry for not telling you earlier how I felt,” he keeps pouring his heart out, “and for, you know, assuming you don’t miss me much, and-”

“Woah, hey,” Sander stops him before he can get himself deeper into the spiral. “Robbe, I fucked up too, don’t take it all on yourself.” He adjusts his laptop and Robbe can see his face clearer now, his eyes bloodshot and tired, a clear sign of a sleepless night, and the guilt clogs his throat even more now.

“I should have seen something wasn’t right.” When Robbe shakes his head and goes back to apologizing, Sander shoots him a pointed look that makes him shut up. “I should have, don’t deny it. You know, I took a long walk yesterday after you hung up, to clear my head, but also to get a perspective on our latest talks. And I felt so dumb for not realizing you were not doing okay.”

“Sander, I don’t expect you to read my mind,” Robbe tries to joke, but it falls flat even in his own ears. But he can’t bear those big regretful eyes on him. He doesn't deserve them.

“Baby, I’m sorry I haven’t been there for you the way you needed me to. Please tell me now? What’s been bothering you, hmm?”

Robbe scrubs his face trying to collect his thoughts, to find a concise way to get everything out of his chest, but he doesn’t know where to start.

“It may take a while.”

Sander makes a show of fluffing the pillow he placed against his back and getting himself more comfortable on his bed, sighing with contentment for a better effect.

“Look, I’m in my comfy clothes, got an energy drink on my nightstand, the computer battery is full and I told everyone I’m busy so they won’t nag me with anything. I’m all yours today.” He gives him an encouraging smile, fondness etched into every crevice of his face.

Robbe’s heart does a little skip at his words, Sander’s demeanor so comforting that he feels the last pieces of apprehension ebbing away, the need to vent overpowering the hesitation of showing his vulnerability.

“I think I just found myself overwhelmed with some things,” he admits quietly, picking at his nail, an absent-minded habit when he’s nervous, as he’s trying to find the right words. “A lot has changed in those last few months, almost all at once, and I kinda have trouble coping. And like,” he scoffs at himself, “I’m angry with myself ‘cause I should be enjoying most of it, being in college and majoring in something that I actually like, and it’s great, but I can’t help but focus on all the things that are different now, things that are not so great.”

Before continuing, he flicks his gaze to Sander for a second, only to then cast his eyes back to his lap. “The last two years with you were the happiest of my life, you know? After years of bullshit and constant misery and pretending to be somebody I wasn’t I-,” he sighs, bittersweet smile on his lips,”I finally found my person, you know?”

Sander mirrors his smile, but he’s frowning a little. “But you still have me,” he reminds him softly.

“I know, but it sucks when I can’t just, I don’t know, snuggle up you and forget about stuff. It’s all your fault, by the way, you’ve been too good to me and now I have withdrawal symptoms,” he pouts, and hears Sander chuckling on the other side of the screen.

“You have no idea how much I wish virtual hugs were a thing. And kisses, oh my god, kisses too. I’m so kiss-deprived. Once I finally get my hands on you, I won’t let you go for a week.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

For a short moment, Sander manages to bring a genuine smile on his face, but it quickly disappears when the reality sets back in. There are still almost four long months to get through. He watches Sander’s smile slipping off his face slowly and he knows they’re both thinking about it.

The boy sighs deeply. “You know, sometimes I feel like it was a mistake to-”

Robbe’s eyes snap to him. “No, no, no, don’t think that, it wasn’t a mistake. Please don’t feel guilty or something, that’s the last thing I want you to do,” he stresses. Sander still looks conflicted, and fuck, this is exactly what Robbe wanted to avoid.

“Hey, I’m serious. Look, you not being here is tough, but like I said, it’s just things piling up, changing. Shit like school work that has been piling up and me getting so stressed about the end-of-the-semester project because I still haven’t figured out the details. Plus people moving away, all of that makes it difficult for me to adjust. So don’t go thinking it’s because you’re the center of my universe or something,” he ends his rambling with a feigned-offended huff and Sander easily lets them slip into their usual banter.

“I’m not?! Wow, the things a guy finds out after being such a devoted and doting and loving boyfriend.” He wipes the imaginary tear, letting out a long-suffering sigh. “Such a menace, breaking my heart in half on this lovely Saturday afternoon.” He purses his lips in offence and Robbe is grateful for Sander’s attempt to lift the mood, trying to be upbeat.

He feels a tug in his chest thinking about how if Sander was here, he’d be tackling him to the nearest surface to shut him up with tickles and loud smooches and playful jabs in the sides and how they would make much more noise than necessary, acting like the rambunctious teens they are.

That’s going to have to wait too. But he discovers this thought doesn’t hurt as much as it would have yesterday because their conversation right now, this opportunity to vent and Sander’s texts last night, all of it makes him feel better, helps him see he’s not alone.

“I love you,” he blurts out all of a sudden, and it’s something he’s wanted to say since he read his heartfelt texts this morning that almost made him cry in relief.

Sander blinks a couple times, surprised, but then his previously playful face melts into such a fond look it makes Robbe blush like it was the first time he said it.

The I love you too comes right away, soft and quiet, like he’s telling a secret, and it’s heart-stoppingly precious.

To keep himself from drowning in fuzzy feelings, he shoots him a private little smile and steers the conversation back to his friends, telling him how it sucks that it’s they all now live away and how unexpectedly difficult it is to meet up. Robbe’s used to basically having everyone at arm-reach.

“We do video call, obviously, but you know, Milan is all loved up with Ralph in Amsterdam and not that keen on leaving their love nest and Zoe and Senne keep traveling between Genk and Ghent, which with Zoe’s coursework and internship is already a struggle. I don’t think they’re doing that well, actually,” he winces, remembering their last conversation.

If during freshman year somebody had told Robbe who his best friends were going to be, he’d looked at them as if they had grown two heads. Because for real, Jana’s new friend and her roommate? And school’s fuckboy?

But life’s funny like that sometimes. Moving into their apartment in his sophomore year has been one of the best decisions he’s ever made. His number one best decision is currently frowning at him from his dirty screen.

“Oh, that sucks. Do you think they’ll work it out?”

Robbe sighs deeply, propping his chin on the heel of his palm. “Senne has been thinking about finding a job in Genk so I hope so.”

Sander huffs a laugh suddenly, shaking his head. “Wow, I wish I was in his place and there were only 2 hours between us, instead of a whole ass ocean.”

“Yeah, I think once you’re back we’re gonna have a master's degree in that long distance bullshit,” Robbe smiles at him wistfully.

“Ugh, never again though. You’re not getting rid of me, it sucks without you, Robin.” He sounds so grumpy Robbe can’t help the short giggle that escapes him, but deep down he’s happy they both share that sentiment.

They’re staring at each other now, enjoying the moment before Sander shoots him a knowing look. “You haven’t mentioned Jens.”

That sobers him up enough for the fuzzy feelings to disappear from his stomach.

Jens. There’s not much to talk about really. And isn’t that a punch-in-a gut kind of truth considering it was his best friend? Isn’t it heartbreaking that Robbe didn’t even feel like fighting for that relationship and there’s a nagging voice in his head telling him that Jens didn’t either? Just a regular heated argument was enough to finally cut that last string, to put a stop to a friendship that had been hanging by a thread long before. Not that they had noticed.

He felt awful, afterwards. More alone than ever before. But deep down he knew it had only been a matter of time. He just wished Sander had been there to pick up the pieces.

“Sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” Robbe winces, going back to apologizing once he translates his feelings to words the best he can, hoping he made Sander understand.

The boy pulls a face at him, eyes narrowed as he pretends to give him a stern look. “Enough with apologizing today, okay?” He waits until Robbe nods, albeit begrudgingly, because it’s in his second nature to keep saying sorry when he knows he messed up.

He nestles against his pillows to get more comfortable as he glances to the window, registering that sometime during their call it got completely dark outside, November days getting shorter still. He can feel tiredness starting to creep into his bones, the nervous anticipation before their call he had endured all day wearing him down significantly.

There are still some things he needs to get out of his chest and Sander coaxes them gently one by one, listening to him moaning and groaning about his school course load and how he thinks he’s not skilled enough to come up with interesting ideas and being quick to cut him off and reassure him when Robbe’s words get self-deprecating. He’s so attentive and so patient with him, not even an ounce of judgement in his eyes that Robbe feels the pressure and stress that have accumulated over the last few weeks finally letting go with each word he pours out.

When the conversation eventually steers to Robbe’s uni friends and he admits sheepishly that he kinda ghosted them lately, feeling too blue to go out and have fun, Sander interrupts him mid-sentence.

“You should reach out to them, tonight.”

At Robbe’s unsure look, he continues, “If they’re as cool as you made them out to be, I’m sure they’re gonna understand you needed some time to figure things out.”

He then proceeds to cover his ears and whistle, refusing to talk more until Robbe caves and shoots a text to the group chat, trying to keep it short, but explaining things along the way and making amends. Sander’s very pleased with his persuasion skills, beaming at him when Robbe reads him the replies he gets from Lucas, Marie and Fien, wearing a small smile himself as he rolls his eyes at Sander’s smug face.

Sander then asks about his mom and it’s so sweet because he always makes sure to ask, and Robbe falls for him even more each time he does. He’s a bit reluctant when Robbe tries to make him talk about his recent days, keeps saying this call is not about him, but he gives in before Robbe gets upset about it.

Watching his eyes light up with excitement when he talks about his classes works like a balm for Robbe’s yearning heart, Sander’s genuine happiness making his own struggles worth it. It’s a nice reminder that he’s there to make his dreams come true and that it’s everything Robbe has wished for him.

When Sander talks about shenanigans with his friends, Robbe recalls the TikTok video he watched some days ago.

“Nice Michael Jackson moves, by the way,” he comments, trying to sound innocent, but it ends up coming out a little coyishly as he bites at his finger to hide his smirk.

Confusion clouds Sander’s face but only for a second. Then, his lips stretch in a wide grin and he looks very pleased with the confession. “Have you been stalking me, Robin?”

Robbe shrugs, a picture of innocence as he keeps peeking at him from under his lashes. “I might’ve seen a video or two. They’re all so thirsty for you in the comments though,” he adds, putting a note of faux-jealousy in his voice. He quickly noticed that Sander’s new uni friend is semi-popular on the app so his videos always get a fair share of comments. Ever since Sander appeared in them, the hoard of the guy’s fans has been declaring their love for Robbe’s boyfriend under every video. They mostly make him laugh, but sometimes he’ll roll his eyes at some of the raunchier ones, possessiveness that he didn’t know he had activating in his brain.

He waits for Sander’s cocky comment, but to his utter delight, he blushes deep red and scoffs.

“Shut up, it’s so embarrassing,” hiding his face in his hands, he adds, “All of my friends have been teasing me about it constantly.”

“Aww, poor you, being fawned over must be such a hardship, how do you cope?”

“Oh I don’t know, smartass, you can tell me from experience ‘cause I saw those comments under your old vlogs.”

Robbe huffs a laugh. “They were nowhere near as detailed as yours!”

“What can I say, I’m irresistible,” Sander quips back and yeah, there he is, Robbe’s favorite (cocky) dork. “If I’d known you’re my TikTok fan, I’d have sent you those videos right away so you wouldn’t have to waste your time searching for them."

Robbe sighs. “They are a nice window to your life there,” he replies offhandedly, not even registering the implied double meaning to his words, but the immediate change in Sander’s amused expression makes him aware of the slip.

Fuck.

“So you noticed. That I’ve been texting you less.”

Robbe drops his gaze, pulling the cover further up his body, feeling awkward again. He doesn’t want to make a big deal out of this.

Sander shifts on his bed, scratching at his head. “I felt like I was too much, you know? I wanted to share every silly thing with you, but then, well, it was something Josh said that I should,” he waves vaguely trying to find the right words, “cut back on my ‘running commentary’ ‘cause it’s probably annoying.”

“Tell Josh he’s stupid,” Robbe cuts in with a huff, grumpily beating his pillow into submission to make it more comfortable.

The corners of Sander’s mouth twitch at his comment, but his face remains sheepish. “I think he was mostly joking, but it got stuck in my mind and made me question every message. In the end, I didn’t send like half of them,” he explains softly, voice colored with poorly hidden self-consciousness. “I didn’t want to give you the impression I don't have time for you, I’m sorry.”

And, fuck. They’re both idiots.

Sander’s brows shoot up when Robbe bursts into giggles out of the blue, clearly surprised with the reaction. But at this point, it feels like the only proper thing to do.

“So basically we could have avoided this whole bullshit if we just talk about all this sooner,” he groans at the realization, burying half on his face in his pillow to hide his heated face because he’s a little embarrassed he blew things out of proportion.

There’s a visible relief on Sander’s face too, eyes crinkling as he regards him with a dopey grin, and Robbe knows.

They’re gonna be fine.

“Here I thought we were masters of communication,” Sander sighs with a faux-disappointment, leaning back to smile at the ceiling. “Fuck, no more of assuming shit, what do you think?”

And that sounds like something Robbe can get behind one hundred percent, more than ready to leave their misunderstandings in the past and just do better. So he nods, chin digging into his collarbone uncomfortably with the position he’s lying in, but it doesn’t matter, he’s too preoccupied with staring at his happy face and swimming in his fuzzy feelings.

“Prepare yourself for an onslaught of photos and messages, I’m not messing around,” Sander warns, smiling at Robbe’s soft okay. “You know, just a few days ago I ended up at Pebble Beach, it was cold as all fucks, but the view was just,” he imitates an explosion over his head and Robbe giggles at his childlike enthusiasm. Then, Sander’s face softens and becomes a little sad. “That place is so romantic that it made me feel like shit without you there,” he sighs, and Robbe can relate. “I’ll take you there one day.”

“You’re gonna take me to New York?” Robbe asks, doubt lacing his voice as he cocks his brow which makes Sander scoff in indignance.

“Hell yeah! You don’t believe me? What do you think I’m doing here everyday? I’m scouting the best places for dates, finding the best skateparks and checking out all the museums so I can be the perfect guide for you!” Sander throws his hands, a duh expression on his face, but there’s a wide smile brewing on his lips letting Robbe know he’s not really offended or anything. And, honestly, Robbe just melts with his words.

“I can’t wait, baby,” he sighs dreamily, rubbing his cheek against his pillow as he gazes at him with what he’s sure is the softest look.

Sander narrows his eyes playfully from above the can of Redbull he’s been sipping on. “Don’t ever doubt I’m gonna go out of my way to impress you.”

Robbe blows him a kiss that morphs into a huge yawn, eyelids growing heavy, forcing him to blink repeatedly to stay away which prompts Sander to tease him a little about boring him, but it quickly dies out and he’s just looking at him fondly.

“You should go to sleep.” He ignores Robbe’s melodic neeees, giving him a stern look that was probably supposed to be intimidating, but he looks too amused to keep it up. Once Robbe gets his promise they will see each other tomorrow, Sander sends him several virtual kisses and goodnights before logging off.

Robbe falls asleep with Sander’s beaming face flowing through his mind.

The sleep that comes is unsurprisingly the calmest he’s had in weeks.

Sunday, 18:00

Sander: And?

Robbe: And what?

Sander: Was I right?

Robbe: About?

Sander: About your friends

Robbe: Kinda

Sander: So it means I was 😎

Robbe: :):):) yes

Sander: Thank you sander

Robbe: Thank you sander

Sander: See, you're so precious everybody's in love with you and forgive you in seconds

Robbe: 🙄

Robbe: Precious srsly?

Sander: So precious 🥰

Robbe: Omg

Sander: Haha

Robbe: We're good 😊

Robbe: But I don't think they are in love with me 😂

Sander: They better not be 🤨 I'll fight them all! 🗡💀🧟🤺

Robbe: Dork ❤

Robbe: I think they a little bit in love with u though 🤔

Robbe: They've been babbling all afternoon about how cute you are 🙄

Robbe: A g a i n *yawn*

Sander: They have good taste 🤷♂️

Robbe: Nah they just don't know your annoying habits so that's why

Sander: 😮 I don't have any how dare you badmouthing me like that

Robbe: 🥴

Robbe: You never wash your coffee cups right away so they lay around

Robbe: You always tickle me when you want sth

Robbe: You're full of corny jokes

Robbe: You eat my fries when I don't look

Robbe: You hog the covers

Robbe: And I still remember that Wednesday when you ate my last bag of chips 💔

Sander: Okay first of all

Sander: Wow

Sander: Don't hold back 🥺

Sander: Second of all

Sander: I THOUGHT THOSE CHIPS WERE MILAN'S I TOLD YOU!!!

Robbe: That's what they all say 💔

Sander: You're unfair, I thought I made up for that lil mistake 🍆

Robbe: Well you did 🙈 but I still remember 😝

Sander: Also you love my jokes

Sander: They're awesome 🤧

Robbe: I'm just messing around 😘😘

Sander: 🥰

Robbe: But I swear to god if I have to listen one more time to Marie waxing lyricals about your 'perfect moles' I'm gonna 🤮

Sander: What haha 😂

Robbe: I mean they are but like

Robbe: Chill girl he's not your man 🤨

Sander: That's right cause I'm your man 😏

Robbe: And don't you forget that

Thursday, 3:48

Soft knuckles brush his skin, body arching into the touch that turns his muscles into jelly and sends liquid fire rushing through him. He’s overheated in the best way possible, seeking out Sander’s tongue, but the boy denies him access, smirk well in place as he pulls back, green eyes cloudy from lust. He’s staring at him like he wants to eat him whole and Robbe almost whimpers, bones melting and lids closing when Sander takes the tender flesh of his neck between his teeth and bites at it ever so gently, but just enough to make Robbe see stars.

He sighs as he feels a ghost of touch on his nipple, Sander leaving a trail of kisses down his sternum as he’s moving so teasingly slow to his final destination, and he doesn’t even hesitate, spreading his legs wider around Sander’s hips in a blatant invitation, blushing hot pink when Sander sends him a fox-like grin, mouthing at his inner thigh.

The details get fuzzy for a few seconds, Robbe blinking rapidly to get his surroundings and finding himself on top of Sander, and there’s an inkling at the back of his brain telling him something’s messed up about the logistics here. He decides to ignore it, focusing back on the moment and Sander’s glistening, kiss-swollen lips, on his eyes transfixed on the place where they’re connected, and he leans down, his tongue sweeping over his Sander’s bottom lip before he starts pressing soft, spit-slick kisses into his mouth. He pushes Sander’s hands up over his head and intertwines their fingers, arching his back as he takes over, the rush of pleasure almost overwhelming him.

“Ohmygod, Sander,” Robbe breathes into his mouth. His hands are trailing all over Sander’s chest and stomach now, squeezing and rubbing almost like he’s his personal plaything.

It’s not long before Sander’s warm hands draw him back towards his chest, lips ghosting along Robbe’s, teasing, always teasing, but not granting permission to properly meet, making Robbe impatient and whine in desperation only for Sander to grin wickedly at him. He feels nails dragging along his spine, leaving goosebumps in their wake, stopping at his cheeks, massaging them to his heart content while Robbe can only pant, rocking back and forth and biting his bottom lip to keep from coming.

He’s an oversensitive, blissed out mess, trying to keep his eyes open to take a mental snapshot of Sander’s lust-blown pupils as they watch each other, Sander fucking him slowly and punching the prettiest sounds out of Robbe’s mouth.

Hips stuttering, he drops back down on his elbows to crash his lips against Sander’s, feeling his body tensing he’s so close and-

Eyes shot wide open, blinking harshly against the darkness of the room. His first instinct is to reach out to the other side of the bed, snuggle closer to the source of heat lying next to him, but his brain catches up with his hands quickly and he stops himself mid-reach, groaning as he flops back on the bed, disappointed. He kicks his covers down grumpily, letting cold air hit his overheated skin, frustrated and too awake to go to sleep now.

Fuck.

Thursday, 13:08

*photo attached*

Sander: Good morning x

Robbe: Heeyy sleepyhead 😘

Robbe: You look cute

Sander: I had very interesting dreams last night

Robbe: Oh yeah?

Sander: Yeah I'm still affected by them 😏

Robbe: Stop it I'm at a coffee shop with the guys!

Sander: I'll have to tell you about it tonight then 😈

Robbe: Can't wait 😘

Sander: Today at 16 my time right?

Robbe: Yep :)

Robbe: You know

Sander: Hmm?

Robbe: I might have some of those dreams too last night

Sander: 🥵🥵🥵

Sander: Do tell

Robbe: 🙈

Sander: Now I’m super intrigued 😈

Robbe: How about I tell you tonight

Robbe: With details

Robbe: Lots of them

Sander: Tonight can't come fast enough 😩

Sander: Looks like I will though 😏

Robbe: Omg you're such a dork 😂

Sander: Did it get u hot

Robbe: No wtf 😂

Sander: ☹🥺

Sander: Kay

Sander: I have to get up now

Sander: I'm late 🙄

Sander: Robin it's raining I don't wanna go out 😩

Robbe: Haha get your pretty ass out of bed and go be a good student!

Sander: Ugh fine 🙄

Sander: I love you ❤

Robbe: ❤

Sander: Hey no, not an emoji, tell me you love me ☹

Robbe: Haha

Sander: Come on

Robbe: 🤐

Sander: Robbe

Robbe: Gotta go 😌

Sander: Okay then 😔💔

Robbe: I love you too idiot ❤❤❤💯

Sander: Yesss 🥰

Sander: Hey that's my emoji 😏 so you like it after all

Robbe: 😂 go to class!!!

Sander: I'm going I'm going

Friday, 19:00

Robbe checks his phone for time again, not wanting to be late for his call with Sander, but there’s still about half an hour until he should get going. It’s been a pleasant evening and a while ago he would have never called any time of the day spent with his father ‘pleasant’, but there he is. Enjoying his dinner not only with him but also with his girlfriend of six months that he met in July when the first attempts to salvage the relationship with his dad have been made.

And it’s all because of Sander. The fact that he’s even here speaks volumes about his skill of persuasion. If it hadn’t been for his boyfriend, Robbe would have continued to stew in his own juices and ignored his dad.

“How is Sander doing? New York is a jungle.”

Robbe huffs a laugh. “He’s good, he fits in well in the city vibe. But, um, he needs to stay a bit longer, till February actually ‘cause the school postponed the art show.”

He goes for another bite, frown on his face at the mere reminder of the change of plans.

“You probably hate it, huh?” his father questions.

His only response is to throw him a duuuh look, making his dad snort.

“You should visit him.”

Robbe looks up from over his spaghetti, expecting to see his dad laughing or winking at him, but both him and Margaux are looking at him with unsuspecting smiles, like the suggestion is the most obvious thing in the world.

He exhales a short dad in a laugh, glancing at them back and forth. “I don’t have a spare several thousand euros lying around waiting to be spent on a trip to New York,” he explains, slight exasperation in his voice.

“Oh I don’t think you’d need that much, Robbe,” Margaux smiles at him as she puts away her fork and reaches for her phone. “A few months ago I was actually backpacking with my friend through the East Coast and, wait, let me check, I have everything saved on my AirBnB account.”

Robbe gets back to his dinner as she scrolls on her phone, trying to squish the building hope in his chest away because even if it’s cheaper than he thinks, there’s still no way he can afford it; his equipment and books for school have eaten all of his savings.

“There it is! Look,” she scoots her chair closer to him, his dad peeking at the phone from the other side. “We stayed in Brooklyn for 98$ a day for a double bed, in Bedford to be exact and the conditions were really nice, plus the train station was close by. I’m sure you could find something half as cheap since it’s just you and the room can be tiny, just to sleep really.”

“That’s a reasonable price, I think,” his dad joins in, and then proceeds to ask her questions about her other expenditures while in the city and the flight prices, debating whether it’s better to drive to Frankfurt and take a direct flight from there or maybe decide on a layover flight from Brussels.

They are so into the planning and discussing the best options that they both jump slightly when Robbe speaks again, clearly forgetting he’s sitting right next to them, a picture of confusion.

“Guys, guys, wait. It doesn’t matter if it’s 1500 euros, or even 1000 euros because that’s still a 1000 euros more than I have to spend on a trip anywhere.”

His dad is so enthralled into checking different flights that he barely raises his head from above his phone, replying offhandedly, “I’ll pay for it.”

And, okay, no. Robbe gapes at him like he grew two heads, spluttering, because hell no.

“No way, I won’t take your money, dad.”

His vehement tone finally makes his father properly regard him and he sighs after a second. “Robbe, please don’t treat it as an attempt to buy you or your feelings.”

Straight to the point, his dad, always has been. It definitely is one the reasons for his refusal, but it’s not only that.

Robbe takes a deep breath to calm down. “Look, dad, it’s still lots of money. I can’t-”

“I’m many things, but irresponsible with money I’m definitely not. So if I say that I can pay for it, it means that I can afford it and it won’t affect me.” He gives him a pointed look. Before Robbe can argue again, he continues. “We can treat it as your Christmas gift. And next year’s birthday gift. And last two Christmases gifts as well.”

Robbe thinks about the packages he received from his father those holidays, and how he sent them back without even opening. Then, it definitely felt like buying his affection.

“You’ve been doing good at school, got into the university you wanted, you’ve been more responsible those last few years that I could’ve ever asked from you. Then you worked during the summer because you were adamant about paying for school stuff yourself. I think you earn it, Robbe. If you don’t want to go for other reasons, then that’s fine, but if it’s just about the money, please let me give you this.”

“New York is the kind of place everyone should visit at least one,” Margaux says gently. She has a warm smile that immediately made Robbe like her, despite really trying not to for obvious reasons. “And I think Sander would love for you to come visit too.”

Robbe has been torn before she spoke, but the mention of Sander reminds him of their videocall a while back, Sander telling him about places he was going to show him one day, being his guide and taking him to his favorite spots in the city. He can see it all vividly now when the opportunity is at his fingertips, can’t stop the excitement filling his body at the thought of seeing Sander before that dreadful February, even though he’s still now sure what to do.

While he’s been lost in his thoughts, trying to come to some conclusion, Margaux has been typing away at her phone. “Dates around Christmas are very expensive, but what would you say about, let’s say, December 8th? Til December 17th?”

Robbe wouldn’t even consider Christmas because there’s no way he would leave his mom alone for the holidays, but… the dates Margaux offered seem kinda perfect. His main project is due on December 4th so he wouldn’t have to worry about that and it’d be fine if he missed classes for those several days. Completely unaware, he finds himself making plans in his head before he even made a decision to accept his father’s money, but when his eyes snap to his dad’s, the small smile he gives him lets him know he already knows Robbe’s answer.

December 7th, 22:00

His excitement has been uncontainable the entire day, making him so giddy he had to cancel his regular call with Sander because his boyfriend would figure him out in seconds. And that’s the last thing he wants.

He’s still in shock that he somehow managed to keep it from him, planning a surprise in his head ever since he agreed to his dad’s help and working extra hard at uni to afford missing those 8 days of school. There’s apparently been one close call when Younes almost spilled the beans to Sander during their Zoom, but thank god for Yasmina who managed to effortlessly salvage the secret, improvising and coming up with an easy lie, leaving him unsuspicious of any ploy going on.

And Robbe just. He just can’t wait. He’s been counting hours since last week, his lips yearning to be kissed by his favorite person, body pining for touch and caress.

Lost in the dreams of their reunion, Robbe’s startled by a ping from his phone, lips stretching in a wide smile when he sees a notification from Sander’s instagram. He opens it, curious, melting when he’s greeted with a graffiti sign saying ENKEL LIEFDE, Sander’s style easily recognizable to him. Underneath, there’s a heart and his own handle and that shit never fails to make Robbe heart stutter. There’s a DM from Sander waiting for him as well, the same photo, but Sander’s caption says The High Line needed its own version of my love declaration for you, but unfortunately I couldn’t find enough space for a redo of your gorgeous face Robin :( So I did this :) You like it?

He replies with a bunch of red hearts, likes the post and adds another heart in a comment because there’s never too many of those. Then he flops back on his bed, a smile glued to his face.

Nineteen hours.

#wtfock

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shadow--writer · 3 years

Text

I Got a Feelin' I Might Have Lit the Very Fuse

hmmm it’s a writing weekend. And the start of what’s going to be an awful week haha. So expect more of me peddling my brainworms (halp I have fallen back in love with these two to the point where friends have started sending me prompts for them)

title (it’s slowed bc WHY TF NOT)

Maeve x Lucas. Second meetings might go better than firsts 3k

TW: none!

@dela-png

A week had passed, and it was slow. Her regulars, of course, had been popping in and out keeping things from being boring. As much as she appreciated that...she was going to kill them.

How on Earth someone could anger a squirrel that badly she would never know.

But today was calm. Calm and yes sure the ‘q’ word.

She refused to even think of the ‘q’ word. Knowing her luck the moment she thought it, seven people would be flooding into her clinic.

With food poisoning.

She let out a low groan. Slow days were nice and all, but usually she had company. It was eerily silent when she was alone.

And she was bored.

Maeve pushed herself off the counter. She could stand to reorganize her herbs and medicine cabinet. She needed to relabel some of the bottles and jars anyways, with the amount she pulled them off the shelves she smudged her script.

She started moving the jars off the shelves, muttering to herself as she looked at the labels and did her best to decipher the smeared ink.

She had only pulled the herbs off the shelves and onto the counter when the bell above her door rang sweetly into the silence. She stopped her humming, pushing the fraying edges of her handkerchief away from her eyes.

Oh yeah sure so now someone came in.

Forcing a smile and a fake cheery tone to her voice, she turned around. “I’ll be with you in a moment!” she called. She couldn’t see the door over the stack of herb jars on her counter. Some were pretty empty, she’d need to stop at the market again or go foraging.

Ugh foraging.

It wasn’t that she disliked foraging. But it was time consuming.

And she usually got lost.

But she didn’t like to talk about that part.

“Thumbelina!”

She froze. She knew that nickname. She knew that voice.

The smile climbing onto her face became real.

“Giant!” she said, moving out from behind the counter. He looked better today. Not as bloody. In his arms he cradled the little boy from the dock. “Oh! You must be Will!” she said, dusting off her skirt.

The boy looked much better than he had. Colour had returned to his face, and he didn’t seem to be in as much pain. That was good. She knew the bite must ache but it was good seeing him up and about.

She stepped forward, offering her hand to shake. He shook it once, swinging their arms up violently before slamming them back down.

Whoa there.

She laughed in her surprise. “Firm handshake you’ve got there!” she said, drawing her hand back to her side. “So what brings you to my corner of the world? Need more pain meds? The stitches okay?”

Lucas blinked at the questions, she directed her attention to the boy in his arms (who looked so tiny compared to Giant, she noted with a giggle).

Will smiled, he was missing one of his front teeth. “Nope! Lucas brought me over to say hello! And bring you somethin!” Will ducked his head closer to her, mock whispering. Or whispering at the volume a seven year old thought was a whisper.

Aka not at all.

“He also said he wanted to see ya again!”

Her eyes flicked back up to the man in question. His cheeks had been flooded with pink. The blush climbed all the way up to his ears. This was why she never told seven year olds anything. They had no filter, it was cute, but embarrassing.

Though the way Lucas blushed was adorable.

She pressed her fingers to her lips as she chuckled. “Well, I’m glad you came by. It’s nice to see you again,” she said. “Would you care for something to drink? I have tea in the back.”

Lucas’ head snapped up. “We don’t want to bother you! To- W-Will here just brought a gift over to thank you.”

“Thank me?”

“You...saved his life.”

Oh yeah right she did do that. “And you’re just the messenger?”

Will tugged on Lucas’ sleeve, the man gently setting the boy down on the ground. He was walking, that was great!

“The others n I made you somethin! Sylvie mentioned yer cloth head thing.”

She touched the ratty thing on her head. It was falling apart at the seams but she didn’t have time to make another.

Will held a deep green fabric up to her. She blinked, reaching down to grab it. It was made from a soft cotton, and it smelled nice. Like cinnamon and other spices. “So we made you a new one!”

She pulled the one in her hair out, shaking out her bangs. They were a gnarled mess, but soft against her cheeks. “Thank you,” she whispered, pulling the new handkerchief into her curls. She tied it under her ponytail, bringing her hand down as she smiled down at the little boy. “It’s beautiful.”

“Lucas also wanted ta help!” the boy chattered on. He reached over to Lucas, tugging on his hand. Lucas shuffled forward, looking a little embarrassed. “We couldn’t afford any fancy fabric so Lucas gave us one of his old shirts!” The boy beamed up at her, his hand so tiny in Lucas’. “Sylvie did the little flowers!”

Oh! She didn’t even notice the messy embroidery. She ran a hand against them, it was bumpy beneath her fingers.

She loved it.

She squatted down, it made it easier to be at eye level with him. “Well tell her I said thank you and that her flowers are beautiful.”

“She said they were bellflowers. Those are Lucas’ favourite flowers! They’re the only ones she knows how ta make though...”

She looked back up at Lucas. He looked like he wanted to be anywhere but there in that moment. She giggled. “Bellflowers are beautiful, Lucas has good taste.”

“Do ya like it?” He stood on his toes, eyes all lit up.

She smiled, closing her eyes as she tilted her head. “Oh I love it! I’ve been needing something new to pull my hair back for a while now. It was very kind of you to make something for me.”

“I uh, also brought you lunch,” Giant said, bringing her attention back up. Squatting down to be at eye level with the seven year old boy was a smart idea.

Until she realized how much more he would tower over her.

Goodness gracious.

She froze, teetering on her toes. “What?”

He held up a little cloth bundle tied with a string. A nervous smile worked its way across his lips. “It’s some extra stew I made to bring with me. A...thank you from me.”

“You didn’t have to do that. I’m fine eating out.”

“But a home cooked meal is much better than eating out, wouldn’t you think?”

She pressed her palms to her knees as she got to her feet. “Well...yes, but I don’t have time to make a home cooked meal. Let alone a good one. I am an awful cook,” she joked.

“Oh I’m sure you aren’t that bad.”

She cringed. He was so very wrong. “...oh no I am that bad. ‘Permanent ban from the kitchen back home’ bad. And that’s when I even eat something- oh.”

He was glaring at her.

She did not like him glaring at her.

“What?” she asked, drawing out the syllables.

“‘Even eat something’? Thumbelina you’ve got to eat. You’re tiny enough already.”

“Well I don’t have time! Dumba- dumb people don’t wait.” She caught herself. No swearing in front of the kid.

“You should still find time to eat something. Were you even planning to get something to eat today?”

“Well y-yes!”

He raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.

“Okay, no, but I usually get something to snack on during slow days. What’s got your goat in a twist anyways? It’s not like we know one another well.”

Her words struck a chord. He looked away from her, rubbing the back of his neck. “I...I cook,” he admitted. “So I’ve started paying attention to people’s eating habits. Yours are atrocious by the way.”

“Atrocious? You only know my lunch eating habits!” She sulked, placing a hand to her chest. “You wound me.”

“It’s true. Worse than the kids at the dock. At least they come to bother me when they’re hungry. Like stray cats.”

“Hey! We aren’t stray kitties!” Will whined.

Lucas affectionately rubbed his knuckles into the crown of Will’s head. He swatted at the taller man to no avail. “Well to me you sure look like cats.”

“Yer just blind then!” Will huffed, trying to smooth down his hair.

Giant turned back to her, handing her the cloth bundle. She took it, her lips twisting. “I brought you lunch out of the goodness of my heart, so I expect you to eat it at a reasonable time.” His tone was teasing but she knew his words had weight.

“How will you know if I don’t?” she asked, her voice taking a sing-song tone.

He was still not as impressed. Ugh he was no fun. “I’ll come back to check on it.”

“...you wouldn’t.”

“I would.”

“You have work!”

“I can take breaks. I work hard, the least they could give me.”

She sighed, cradling the meal he made her to her chest. “Fine! I give, I give! I’ll eat your lunch.”

He smiled. “Good.” His eyes kept moving to her hair. She touched the handkerchief, his cheeks darkened a little.

Wait...if this was made out of his shirt…

She felt her cheeks warm.

Oh.

The spices she was smelling was him.

They locked eyes, before they both turned away. She swore she was blushing down to her toes. And she never really blushed.

Damn you Giant.

He coughed, looking back at Will who was watching them very amused. “We’d better go little man,” Lucas said.

“Awww but I wanna stay a little longer!” He had wandered off to look at her herbs before exploring the clinic’s many tables. Currently he was looking at the deep grooves on the table.

Lucas caught her eye again. His eyes were still a vibrant blue. Reminded her of the water when it reflected the sky. “We don’t want to bother her anymore than we have,” he said with a low chuckle. “She’s very busy.”

“Not today I’m not!” she blurted out. She hated to admit it, but she enjoyed his company. Teasing or not it was nice to be able to talk to someone.

Lucas paused, she bit her lower lip as she smiled nervously. “If you’d like, you can stay for tea. No one’s come in today, and so it’s been very...eerie. I’d appreciate the company.”

Lucas’ brows crinkled. She wanted to smooth out the lines. “Is...that okay?”

“Of course! I’m offering.”

Will grinned, grabbing her hand. “Well if she says we can stay it’s only polite! That’s what ya taught us, right Lucas?”

Lucas sighed, rubbing his eyes. “Sometimes I wonder if you guys listen to me and then you pull this crap.”

She chuckled. “As the little eel survivor says, it’s only polite.”

“Fine. We can stay for tea.”

She smiled broadly, leading them to her small backroom. There she kept a few extra aprons, gloves and her more powerful medicines (magic pills and all that) locked up tight.

She grabbed her kettle, settling on the fruity green tea she’d found in the market a while back but hadn’t had the chance to try. She hummed as she put it over her small stove.

Will was chatting with Lucas about the magic items she had strewn about. Lucas looked at her, pleading for help.

She laughed, answering the plea. “You like my charms?” she asked. “I had help making them.”

“You can do magic?” Will asked, eyes lighting up.

She was a little taken aback, but to a little kid, of course magic was...well, magic. She smiled. “Oh yes! I can do all sorts of things. Takes a bit out of me, but I can do some illusions, I know some healing. Herbal magic is fun. And palm reading was just something my sisters and one of my cousins picked up on.”

“Palm reading?” Giant asked as the kettle started to sing.

She moved, putting some of the tea leaves in her infuser, letting it seep in the hot water for a bit.

“Yes, palm reading. It’s quite easy actually.” She brought the tea over to the table. She could bring glasses and the ice when the tea was steeped enough. “I can do a reading if you’d like,” she offered.

Will bounced up and down. “Can I help? Can I? Can I?”

Giant laughed. “Calm down little man, let’s let the fairy doctor do her thing first.”

She winked at Will. “I can teach you after I do his reading.”

Will grinned, sitting back. He wiggled in his seat. He was very energetic. It was refreshing.

Lucas held out his right hand, she reached forward, their fingertips brushing. “Your hands are cold,” he said, his hand jerking back a little.

She held firm as she laughed. “I’m aware.”

His palms were calloused. Rough under her touch. Scarred from hard labor. She traced the lines and creases on his hand. She felt his pulse jump under her fingertips as she brushed his wrist.

“Fire hands,” she said, meeting his eyes.

“Fire hands? What does that mean?”

“The type of hands you have. Our hands represent one of the four elements, just like astrology. Earth, air, fire, water. You can tell a lot about a person based on their hands.”

She looked back down at his palm. She traced the length of his palm, and then her fingers danced over his own. “Fire hands show people to be passionate, confident, and industrious. Driven by desires and on a bad day you may lack tactfulness and empathy.”

“And what about your hands?” His voice was soft.

She looked at her hand, her fingers freezing over his own. “Mine are...water hands. In tune with my emotions, intuition, and psychic ability. Fueled by compassion and imagination, often creative. Also extremely sensitive and my feelings are easily hurt, causing undesirable interpersonal stress.”

He chuckled.

She brushed the edge of his hand by his pinky. “Marriage line.” Her fingers moved down to the long line below the marriage line, it curved up between his middle and index finger. “Love line.” Below that was a small curve starting at the flesh of his thumb meeting his palm. “Wisdom.” Two more lines, starting at the bottom of his palm. One curved to match the wisdom line, the other straight up to the middle of his middle and ring finger. “Career and life lines.” Small sun line.

She searched his palm for his health line. “What are you-” he cut himself off as she traced the broken up health line.

“Health.”

He paused at her touch, she could feel his heart beat race under her touch. “Well Thumbelina? What does my palm say?”

She breathed in, letting the air out with a sigh. “Love and marriage,” she started, tracing his love line again. His hand jerked under hers. “Line is long and curved. A happy long lasting love. But it’s all in your hands. Communication is key with this love.”

His eyes widened. “How can you tell?”

She winked. “I just can.” She brushed her thumb along his career line. “Career and business. You’re ambitious and have strong self-confidence. If you have a dream in your heart and you’ll work hard to see it come true.”

She bent closer to his hand. “Health. You’re easily tired. You exercise a lot but don’t take the breaks you need. Short breaks will keep you refreshed and healthy. Don’t forget to exercise even if it’s hard. Don’t forget to rest and take care of your body.”

He chuckled. “I think my work is all the exercise I need.”

“But you still work out?”

“...sometimes.”

“And do you rest?”

“...”

“Thought so.”

She smiled, looking at the last lines on his palm. “Your personality and mental state. Connected to life and health. You know your mind well, you adapt easily. With your adaptability people look to you to lead them. Though reading other people and their feelings is a challenge for you.”

She looked up at him to see his face.

But his face was close to hers.

And he looked back at her at the same time.

So their foreheads slammed together.

Hissing a yelp, she fell back, palm pressed to her forehead. He did the same, Will laughing at them both so hard he fell over.

“Well now we have matching bruises,” she said with a groan, making sure they didn’t break skin. No blood. Just a bruise. Goddess of the unholy stars did that hurt.

“My bad,” he wheezed, pressing a finger to the reddening skin. “You’ve got quite a noggin.”

She got to her feet, smiling a little. “Could say the same about yours.”

He watched her move back. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking about as she turned away from him. His forehead where they bonked heads was starting to turn red.

She got to her feet to go get ice and cups. She set three glasses down, pouring the tea over the ice. The ice cracked under the heat. She slid the glasses to the boy. Giant was still looking over his palm. Her fingers tingled from the small use of magic.

She handed his cup to him. He grabbed the cup from her hand, their fingertips brushing again.

There was a small spark of magic at the touch, making her jump.

He didn’t seem to feel it. Or was able to hide the fact he could. She wondered if he had magic, it was like a surge of something strong coming from deep within her. It was unfamiliar.

It had to be his.

Waving her thoughts off and ignoring the weird flutter in her stomach, she turned to Will, who was gulping down the tea like a dog to water.

She chuckled, holding out her hand. Her eyes were alight with the challenge and excitement she felt when she got to teach something. Her voice was low in pitch, but her tone was filled with lithe amusement. “So, wanna learn how to read palms?”

#the arcana #the arcana game #maevas #maeve #lucas #maeve x lucas #my writing #guess what I did #that roight #i wrote something #maeve in fact #did see lucas #with a friend this time #origins to the handkerchief I gave her in her og doctor design? hell yeah #okay okay imma peace out now #go write that self indulgent thing #if I can annoy dela with my oodles of writings #u can write/draw that thing that makes u happy #peace

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pastelivy16 · 4 years

Text

My New Favorite Color (Saeran X MC Female Reader) AU

Hello, this is my first Mystic Messenger fanfic also Saeran X MC reader .I hope you will enjoy reading as much as I enjoy writing this.

(F/c) - favorite color

(F/d) - favorite drink

(L/c) - Lip color

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(Y/N) P.O.V

It was a cool sunny morning, with the clear skies and the cool breeze. I decide to take advantage of today’s weather and go shopping at the outdoor mall. It’s been awhile since I’ve been anywhere for the last 3 months, since I’ve been stuck at home doing online school. On the other hand, I wanted in excuse to wear my causal (F/c) dress. ‘There wasn’t anything special about the dress other then it being my favorite color; it was something I had bought during the summer but never actually had the chance to wear it and kind of forgot about until now.’ And since I didn’t want to waste this perfect weather I stride towards my clothes until I found what I was looking for.

The mall was hardly crowded despite it being the weekend. It was most likely since it was still morning which it why the atmosphere was quite calm despite the occasional noises from the other shoppers.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Saeran P.O.V

Loud is the one word that describes the mall. Honestly, I didn’t really want to be here, especially the mall of all places, but because of usually circumstances.

1 hour Earlier

“God Fucking Damn it!!!!!!” I cursed out loud. Out of all time in the world why now? I was in the middle of decoding until the damn power went out. I didn’t have a generator in my apartment and the people in charge of the building alert me not to long that power won’t be back until the next hour. So, with no choice I forced myself to go out and to continue my work someplace else. Although I will admit it was a really nice weather today not to hot not to cold it was exactly right. And since I remember that the outdoor mall café has free Wi-Fi. I soon was on way to the location with my laptop and notes.

Back to the present

After ordering my drink and snack I took a seat at the booth since it looks more comfortable. There weren’t that many people here aside from three other group of people talking among themselves. Once I set everything up, I soon became engross into my work. Once I started typing away I didn’t know how long I had been working since the last time I look up from the screen there weren’t that many people and now there was more a lot more people then before.

I brush it off and was about to focus back to work until I heard the sound of the bell, indicating that there’s more people coming in. I look towards the door and saw only one person, but it was a female ‘an extremely cute one that is.’ I noticed she was carrying a few shopping bags with her, but what really caught my eyes was her (f/c) dress which I won’t lie she wore quite well; along with that beautiful smile. Then my eyes land on the curves of her hips as I watch her make her way towards the line of people. I blush as I realize that I’m being a complete pervert checking her out like that. After I calm myself down, I look back towards the girl only for us to make eye contact as she was already looking at me, but what really through me off was that she gave me a smile. But this smile was different from the one she wore when she first enters. I felt my heart skip a beat as I look away from her and continue doing my work that I almost forgot about.

After I was finished, I closed up my laptop and I noticed the girl from, before was still here. She was sitting at the tables by herself reading a book while taking a sipping on her drink. I watch as her (l/c) lips plump together while drinking from her straw. I noticed one of the straps from her dress fell of shoulder; she seems to notice right away and quickly pulls the strap back on.

(Y/n) P.O.V

It was a good idea to do some earlier shopping at the mall since there are barley people here in the mornings. After I was done shopping it was already lunch time and I decide to spoil myself even more by going to my favorite café here. It has been so long since I had (F/d) from there; once I enter inside, I inhale and exhale from the delicious smell that the café had to offer, which brought a smile to my face. As I was walking towards the line, I felt like I was being watch I look around the café until my eyes landed on red hair. Out of all the people in the café he definitely stands out since his hair was almost unnaturally red, but I thought it really suited him. He looks up from his laptop and I noticed that his eye color is a unique shade of blue almost mint color. In other words, I thought he look really handsome, he then looks up from his screen which cause us to make eye direct eye contact. I smiled as I got a good look from his bluish - mint colored eyes; I was going to wave hello but unfortunately, he looks away. ‘Hopefully, I didn’t scare him away.’ I thought to myself. After I order my drink, I took a seat at one of the empty tables and pull out my book I recently bought. I stole a quick glance from the man with the unique hair color and eyes; to see him typing away on his laptop. ‘He looks busy I wonder what kind of work he’s doing?’ I thought to myself. Soon after I myself became engrossed into my new novel.

Saeran P.O.V

Apart of me wanted to go up and talk to her, while another part of me was to nervous to even say a proper greeting. I noticed she was getting up and leaving; I felt a little disappointed that she was leaving already. As she left, I look back to the table she was sitting before and noticed a small book sitting there under the table. It didn’t look like the book she was reading from before this one look smaller. After I grab my bag with my laptop, I walk towards the table she was sitting before and pick up the small notebook. I open to the first page from the notebook, which was handwritten.

This book belongs to (Y/n) (L/n)

‘So that was your name.’ I thought while viewing the bottom which had her phone number and address. I didn’t want to read what she had written inside the other pages since it is invasion of her privacy. ‘Despite what I do for a living.’ I quickly exited the café and started searching the crowed for the girl. ‘She couldn’t have gone far.’

I didn’t know how long I had been searching, since I was getting tried from walking back and forth trying to look for the girl. I decide to take a quick rest in one of the chairs in the middle of mall, before I could go back and try to look for her again. It had been a good three minutes sitting here until I felt someone taking a seat from three cushions away from me. I was about to get up and start looking for her again until (f/c) fabric caught the corner of my eye. I look over at the person sitting three cushions away, and sure enough it was her! ‘I found you!’ She looks like she was looking for something since she was checking all of her bags. I got up from my set and walk over to her.

(Y/n) P.O.V

After leaving the café I decide to walk around a bit more looking at all the new stores I haven’t noticed before. I then realize my purse seem a little lighter since I left the café. I check inside my purse and noticed that my notebook is gone! I check my shopping bags hopefully I accidentally place it in the wrong bag. I took a nearby set in the middle of the mall, continuing to check my other bags but nothing!

I started to panic inside my mind until I felt a presence in front of me. I look up and it was the same man from the café shop.

“Hi um I think this is what you are looking for.” The cute unknown stranger said as he handed me my notebook I was looking for!

“Oh my god, thank you so much!” I said excitedly while attack him in a hug and gave him a kiss on the cheek, after realizing my actions I quicky let go of him and apologizes. “I’m so sorry I got a bit too excited and got carried away! Again, I’m really sorry!” I apologies. ‘Oh My God! That was super embarrassing! Why did I let myself do that?’ I thought panicky.

“It’s fine, just make sure your more careful with your belongings next time.” Saeran said while trying to recover from her expected action by covering his blushing face and his racing heart.

“Once again thank you very much handsome stranger.” I beam at him. I noticed his cheeks under his hands we’re turning even redder than his hair if that was even possible. ‘cute!’ I thought while quickly recovering from my embarrassment.

“Um th-thank you.” ‘God damn it why did I stuttered!’ Saeran thought to himself.

“Hey um I hope this isn’t to forward but I would like to treat you to your favorite place. Considered it as a thank you for returning my notebook back to me, and for pecking your cheek just now.” I chuckle to cover up my own embarrassment earlier.

“Sure, but you really don’t have to go through that trouble, especially with a stranger like me.” Saeran reply thinking this was way too good to be true.

“Correction that’s handsome stranger.” I pointed at him which resulted of him to blush again. “And I’m not doing it because I have to, but because I want to. So, would you please consider it?” I ask.

‘Of course, I said yes I want to know more about her without actually hacking into her background.’ Saeran thought while agreeing to the offer.

“Awesome! Do you want to exchange numbers and plan on the time and where?” I asked the handsome stranger.

After exchanging numbers, I noticed the name he put under his contacts.

“Unknown? Are you really not going to give me your real name?” I chuckled.

“Don’t worry you’ll know my real name soon.” The handsome stranger said, while smiling for the first time in their conversation.

“Ok Mr. Unknown.” I chuckled. “I have to go but I’ll text you later on today.” I waved before making my way towards the exited.

As I left the mall, I felt like I had forced a stranger to go out on a date with me, even though I wasn’t actually a date we’re planning for. Although that wouldn’t be so bad since he seems really shy and decent. Not to mention very handsome with adorable actions. Hopefully, I wasn’t to forward with him. I thought to myself.

Saeran P.O.V

I watch the ruffles from the bottom of her dress sway as she exited the mall. I didn’t want her to leave but I remind myself that she gave me her number. I chuckle to myself since I had already memorized from memory. I soon exited the mall towards the parking lot to find my car.

“I can’t wait to hear from you soon (Y/n).” I said while talking to myself.

‘(F/c) just became my new favorite color.’ I thought to myself while starting the car engine.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hi I hope you enjoy reading my first Mystic Messenger fanfiction. I’ve been thinking of writing a sequel to this one and let me know if you do too!

Sincerely,

PastelIvy16 ^ _ ^

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cncofantasias · 4 years

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Justice - Christopher Velez:

Chapter 3: Tainted

Summary: You’ve dated your boyfriend Christopher Velez for 2 years and even now that you guys have been together for so long, there was still so much stuff Christopher refused to tell you. That is until Christopher gets arrested for the murder of a man named Zabdiel de Jesus. As the trial against Christopher goes on you learn things about him that you never thought he was capable of. Y/n is fighting between the Christopher who was her loving and adoring boyfriend and the man who’s committed so many awful crimes.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

The summer of 2017 was that of one that made me believe I could have it all.

The summer of 2017, as I remember it, was the time in my life where the feeling of being completely & utterly content with the way my life was going... washed over me.

Although I’d struggled living in a studio that had the toilet practically attached to the kitchen, a studio that didn’t just have one lock but 4. I was doing it and that was what made me proud despite my circumstance.

I was a 20 year old adult living by myself , driving my own run down car, and working a job that although wasn’t the best, nor the easiest; but it paid the bills.

Most people had moved out of their parents house by the time they turned 18 or by the time they graduated. I didn’t exactly have that luxury because most of my life consisted of taking care of my parents. Not the other way around as it should be. Meeting Christopher that summer wasn’t what changed my summer into being the best summer I’d ever had. I wasn’t the kind of girl to swoon over a guy, in fact I rejected Christopher plenty of times before deciding to give him a chance.

In my 20 year old mind, I was rebelling against love because I refused to let any man into my life until I was certain of who I was and until I took care of my education, my career first. I didn’t want any man coming into my life and shifting my focus from my ambitions to be all about them. I refused to live that life; I’d seen it one too many times in my friends and my own family.

However, despite being this independent don’t need anybody kind of woman, I remember it was the beginning of July in 2017 when I’d decided to go out to an early Fourth of July party at my friend’s house. I’ve always been an antisocial, keep to myself sort of girl but since I was 20 at the time I wanted to experience, even a small grain of salt, of that highly talked about roaring party girl twenties.

•••

“Some of it is ugly, was any of it real? Is every memory I hold of you, every part of you that I thought I knew going to be tainted with the truth?”

There weren’t many times when I’d see her like this. She was a confident, ‘I’m fake fine’ kind of woman and to know that she’d now began doubting todos los mementos que teníamos juntos (all the moments we’ve had together). It hurt my heart.

“I guess that’ll be up to you to decide bebe.”

Her silence filled the air, she didn’t have to speak because I’d known her like the back of my palm by this point. She had nothing to left to say because she was too busy thinking; which was usually how our conversations would go, and even our arguments. She was a thinker, an analyzer before she was a conversationalist.

“I remember when I first saw you at that 4th of July party. I kept looking at you and wondering how I was ever going to go up to a girl like you and not embarrass myself to the point of no return. I remember mentally preparing myself to go up to you and just when I felt like I was ready to at least introduce myself to you-“ I chuckled to myself a coy smile playing on my face. I was slightly flustered to ever truly to admit to Y/N, the love of my life, that when it came to her, I was a lost puppy. When it came to her all my player moves and cheekiness was an act that fell away and got lost. She’d made me so infatuated with her that I was intimidated to talk to her.

“I remember I was walking up to you like in one of those romantic movies you always like to watch; and as soon as I got up to you I forgot everything I was gonna say.” A small smile grew on her lips thinking of the moment.

“And you just stood there staring at me with your hands in your pockets. I remember thinking what is this guys problem,” we both laughed at this, the tension broken over our fond little remembrance.

“Till finally I said, h-h-hi my name is Christopher,” I stuttered the same way I did back then in that moment just to see if I could get another crack of a smile out of her and perhaps even a giggle. Fortunately, for my own pride, it worked.

“And I don’t know how but I somehow managed to find my charm again to talk to you for the rest of the night.”

“That’s not how I remember it my love.”

I couldn’t help but admire her, her little smirk played on her face. It was like the Y/N I’d known before all of this happened, and for a minute I think we both forgot the real reason we were sitting here in our house at the coffee table trenching up the past. I wanted her to remember the good parts first before I told her the next part that I was sure would leave her in disappointment.

“Oh yeah, how do you remember it then bebe?”

“It wasn’t exactly charm that you were laying on.”

“But in the end of everything, it worked didn’t it bebe. I got the girl I wanted to begin with.”

“Only because you were persistent. I remember at the end of the night you asked me for my number. I told you I don’t give my number out—“

“So I told you that I’d settle for Snapchat-“

“Or instagram”

“Or even a twitter or an email if thats what it took”

“And I still told you that I wasn’t looking for anybody nor anybody that said they wanted to be friends but then persisted at a dating relationship.”

“I remember laughing so hard when you told me that, I felt like I’d been caught in my own lie,”

“That’s cause you were my love.”

“Fair enough bebita, so I said that if what it took to ever see you again was to write you hand written letters and send it to you by a messenger bird; that I’d find a way.”

She looked down blushing, “and when we said goodbye, you said ‘no I’ll see you later’.”

“I was right on my word.”

“Christopher what does this have to do with your case?”

I looked down, ashamed, I wasn’t quite ready to reveal the truth to her but I knew at some point or the other she’d learn the truth. The only difference in the way she’d learn that truth, is that I wanted it to come me and my own perspective before anyone else’s. The people on the stand would paint me as a monster, the villain to any superhero, the scum of the earth. If I let it us go on without any confession of the truth by my own word; then I’d lose her forever and she’d see me in that light, the villain. I could handle the whole world and their mothers thinking I truly was a monster; but not my Y/N.

“After that night that I met you something terrible happened; earlier that day I’d had some trouble with another gang that was undermining me to steal my customers and pin my own people against me. I had a conference with the guy in charge of that gang, his name was Richard and he’s the head of Los Diablos. By the end of the conference it was in my own understanding that we were in a pack to stay out of each other’s way. But that night, Richard and his gang caught me when I too comfortable. They’d been following my moves that whole day and when they saw I was alone leaving the party. They pulled up next to me at a stoplight and shot a round into my car... 3 bullets hit me and I was in the hospital for a while, but as you can see amor I’m alive.” I’d been trying to lighten the mood, to make her see that I’m still the same man she met before.

“Once I got out of the hospital, I had two things that I had to do: one being that I had to take down Los Diablos in any way possible, and two I had to see you again. The whole time I was at the hospital I’d been thinking about our conversation and how insightful, intelligent you were. Which is what led to me being persistent and finding out from some of my homeboys that you worked at that diner on bleaker street...”

She nodded by the look on her face I could tell that her mind had suddenly been registering and putting some pieces together. “The day you came into the diner it’d been raining and you came in soaking wet. I remember the hostess that sat you had told me that you specifically asked for me and she told winked at me telling me to get some. And when I walked up to you and started looking at you. I realized you were the guy from the party. That day you told me your car had broken down and you were stuck in the rain. That you had waited in the rain as they finished towing your car and taking it to the auto shop. You said that you walked over to the diner and that’s why you were soaking wet. That wasn’t true was it.”

“It wasn’t.”

She scoffed at me, and now we both knew that every memory I was about to trench up...

Would in one way or the other be denounced with the truth. That night the truth was that I’d done something I knew she’d be mortified to hear. I don’t know why out of all the places in the world, I decided to go to her diner that day, I’d known she worked there for some time from the information my boys told me. At one point I felt that she was better off never knowing me so I didn’t bother to go their sooner, because I’d only drag her into my mess. But, that night after having realized what I’d done and what had happened... I needed the same comfort she’d brought me that night at the party and I found myself at her diner. Soaked but eager to see her.

——————————————————————————

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Dear all you spectacular readers,

I hope you enjoy this chapter I’d struggled creatively on what to write next but it’s finally here the 3rd chapter and I promise not to make you guys wait too long for the fourth I’m actually brainstorming of where to go from here so although I won’t make promises my goal is to have the fourth one up by next weekend same day, Sunday. So stay tuned and I don’t know if you guys really want me to add a tag list I’d be more then happy to do so. Thank you so much for reading and all your lovely support. Te amo a todos!

#cnco #cnco fanfic #christopher velez #christopher velez imagines #cnco chris #cnco imagine #cnco imagines #cnco x reader #imagines

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ecoamerica · 1 month

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youtube

Watch the 2024 American Climate Leadership Awards for High School Students now: https://youtu.be/5C-bb9PoRLc

The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!

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youreverycolor · 4 years

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An Unlikely Love: Admissions (Rafael Barba x Anna Stein)

AN: Prompt #187 from 200 Prompts from @drink-it-write-it (“I know I kissed you before, but I didn’t do it right. Can I try again?”).

Written for @thatesqcrush -- if you would like to be tagged on future Barba oneshots/fic, please reply and let me know! :)

Other tags: @madpanda75 @misssirenlove @evee87 @garturbo @danahart1 @dianilaws @ele-esposito @nikkijmorgan

Song: “Tiny Voice” by Lexi Walker

~*~*~*~

“It was good, but it could be better.”

Anna glanced up at him. “Okay, but how?”

Rafael had just finished reading her admissions essay for Fordham Law School, and while he knew that it was good enough to get her in, he would be remiss if he didn’t give his honest opinion. Her wording was precise, the message decent, but something felt off. It was as though the essay was a puzzle and there was one piece, right in the middle, that was missing.

The young woman had come to him four months before, asking for his advice on how to begin a legal career after her sexual assault the previous year. She had been working in the financial industry when she was assaulted by her boss and, after the conclusion of the trial, decided to rebuild her life from the ground up. Rather than default back to her biology degree—one she had not used since graduating college—she wanted to go in an entirely new direction. Rafael was humbled by this; usually, he didn’t get to see the victims after they’d begun to heal. His impact, he thought, ended after he convicted their rapists. But Anna had come to him to tell him that he inspired her to begin a legal career, and so he wanted to do everything he could to encourage her.

Or, at least, that’s how it started.

“Well,” he replied, “obviously your reasons for wanting to attend law school are different than most people’s. But because of that, I feel like there should be more…emotion here. It feels like you’re holding back.”

She tilted her head and chewed her bottom lip. “Okay, I can see what you’re saying.”

“Is it hard for you to talk about?” he asked. “Because if that’s the case—”

“No, it’s not that. I think it’s just that I’ve spent a long time trying to put what happened to me in a box, you know? Like, this is where it goes now, in this corner of my brain. So digging the box out and opening it up is a little difficult.”

He nodded. “I can understand how that would be hard, but remember, there are actual people who read these essays. They want to know who you are. I know that people think admission is by the numbers, and your LSAT score is great. But you need to set yourself apart from all the other applicants with great LSAT scores.”

She leaned over the coffee table. “Right. I get it. Okay. I’ll revise.”

He was continually surprised at how well she took criticism. Most law school applicants tended to be a bit arrogant and didn’t really want to hear that their work wasn’t impeccable. Then again, it was generally type-A perfectionists who wanted to attend law school in the first place; Anna was…not that person. It wasn’t that she was lazy or that she didn’t care enough to try; on the contrary, in their weekly meetings, Rafael had been impressed with how hard she worked to achieve this goal without compromising her easygoing nature or the balance of the rest of her life. She may only have been twenty-four, but she was wiser than half the people he’d gone to school with.

He wanted to end their meeting on a positive note. “That said, I think you stand a very good chance of getting a scholarship. Which I’m sure will help, especially given that you’re just temping right now.”

She stood up, smoothed her linen skirt over her knees, and pulled up her brown suede boots. “Yeah, I’d like to come out of this with as little debt as possible. Especially since…”

“Since what?” he asked, rising to his feet as well.

She looked down, a little sheepishly. “Since I want to do public defense.”

He almost dropped his coffee cup. “Excuse me, what?”

She sighed. “I knew you’d react like this.” She gathered her application materials from the table and packed them into her messenger bag.

“I mean, how did you expect me to react?” he asked. “After everything you’ve been through, after telling me that I inspired you to even go to law school—how could you want to do what John Buchanan and Rita Calhoun do?”

“Do you really think I would turn out like either of them?” she asked, a bit defensively. “I have no desire to be Buchanan!”

He set his cup down on his desk and put squeezed the bridge of his nose. “Look, I know that we’re all supposed to say that the justice system only works when criminals are afforded a defense, and that the Constitution says they’re entitled to one, but I just—”

“Rafael, I understand that you don’t like this. I get it. You’ve made it perfectly clear. But it’s my life.”

“And it’s my time!” he snapped. “I’ve been laboring under the impression that you wanted to do what I do. At least, that’s the impression you gave me, since all we’ve discussed about the practice of law is from the perspective of a prosecutor.”

She folded her arms and stepped closer to him. “Well,” she said, “if having your help is conditional upon doing what you want me to do, then I’d just as soon thank you for your time and try not to waste any more of mine.”

He was trying very hard to be annoyed, but he couldn’t help himself. “You do realize you just quoted a Sara Bareilles song?”

It took her a second to process what he had just said. “Wait…did you really just admit that you, Rafael Barba, big, bad prosecutor, listen to Sara Bareilles?”

“I guess we’re both full of surprises.”

She sighed, grateful for the tension breaking but also not done with the conversation. “Look, I know you don’t get it.” She put a hand on his arm. “I understand that you don’t get how anyone would want to be a defense attorney—”

“It’s not that I don’t understand why people do it. It’s that I don’t understand why you want to do it.”

“I want to do it because there are people like Buchanan out there. You’re such a good prosecutor, Rafael. And the reason you’re good is because you’re a good person. You want to do the right thing. And so do I. The defense world needs people like you, but if they can’t have you, then maybe I can”—she paused, taking a breath—“maybe I can be a substitute. Like I said, I know you don’t understand it. And I’d love your approval. But I don’t need your absolution, because I’m not doing anything wrong.”

He found himself at a loss for words. Never had he considered the idea that good people might want to negate the impact of defense attorneys like Buchanan. Maybe he had just come into contact with too many terrible defense attorneys. Or maybe he had just been a prosecutor for so long that he assumed all defense attorneys were terrible. But he couldn’t imagine ever thinking that about Anna.

In fact, all he was thinking about Anna at that moment was that her hand was still on his arm.

She looked down and noticed the same thing. She didn’t even remember putting it there. But she also didn’t see him pulling away. She moved a little closer, so that there was only an inch or two of space between them. The world blurred a little at the edges.

“Anna…” he whispered.

She knew that he was doing her a favor by helping her. He certainly had better things to do with his time than spend it with a victim who he’d already done so much for. But she also wasn’t willing to sacrifice her goals just to earn his approval—or, she thought, his affection. She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. “I hope someday you can understand,” she said, and in a flash of linen and suede, she was gone.

***

Anna canceled their next meeting. Rafael wasn’t surprised, but he found himself disappointed. Not because she did something wrong, but because he hadn’t realized how much he looked forward to spending time with her until suddenly, he wasn’t anymore. Every time he saw a flash of blonde hair outside his office door or in his apartment hallway, his heart seemed to stop. Once or twice, he’d started to text her, but couldn’t really figure out what to say. It wasn’t that they had ended their last encounter on a bad note; it was more that he didn’t know whether she expected an apology and didn’t know what to say to find out.

So, he just didn’t say anything.

A week later, he got home from work more exhausted than usual. He had just finished a particularly gray case involving a teenage boy who had likely pressured a teenage girl into rounding third base, but the girl’s parents seemed more interested in prosecuting than she did. He hated these cases, because it wasn’t as easy for him to dislike the perp. It wasn’t that he sympathized; he couldn’t imagine pushing a woman into anything and would never understand how a man could get pleasure from sex with someone who wasn’t entirely into it. But he also felt like he was contributing to the girl’s pain—she seemed more embarrassed by the legal proceedings than traumatized by the incident itself.

On days like this, what he loved doing most was coming home, ordering takeout, and—although he would never let anyone else know it—watching those ridiculous house-flipping shows on HGTV. Even though lots of people would recommend just burning these old, busted houses to the ground, there were always people willing to try to turn them into something worthwhile. He liked watching things rebuilt from the ground up. It was while he was watching one of those shows that the realization dawned on him: that’s exactly what Anna was trying to do with defense work. She couldn’t do it all, of course; there would always be houses that should be left to rot. But she wanted to try to flip what she could.

And he’d been telling her to burn it all down. And for what? His ego? To earn his respect? Just today, he had been doubting himself for even prosecuting the case against that boy, wondering if it was really a rape or whether the girl’s parents just wanted to believe it was. Was his side of the law really above reproach?

He opened his laptop to send her an email. He wanted to tell her something, but it was too much to text. And that was when he saw it: the subject read, “Revised Essay. For Your Eyes Only.”

So he started to read.

Most of the essay was the same as it was when he first read it. But the last few paragraphs were new and were everything he had hoped she would revise about it.

It’s probably common for applicants to say that they’ve wanted to go to law school since they were kids. And most people probably say it’s because they want to save the world, do good, protect people, pursue justice. They probably say that they’ve been inspired by another lawyer or that they see the good the law does for people. Those are all valid reasons, and I respect people for them.

For me, it’s really quite simple. I want to be a lawyer because I see the damage the law can do. I’ve been torn down on a witness stand by an attorney who had no compunction about calling me a slut. I realize that this attorney would say he was zealously defending his client, and I’m sure he believes that. But I think there are ways you can defend a client while also respecting the dignity of other humans—even the humans accusing your client of heinous crimes. I think there are better ways to practice law, and I want to find out what they are and pursue them.

I want people to realize that defense attorneys are not the monsters portrayed on television. I want to be a defense attorney that prosecutors can respect. I want to practice law in a way that makes people able to understand why I decided to practice criminal defense. If I can achieve that, if I can make a believer out of the most cynical, stubborn people who think there is no such thing as a defense attorney who is both good at their job and also good at being a human, then I will consider myself a success. I hope that Fordham will allow me to achieve that goal.

The reply he sent was short and to the point, as he always was.

Anna,

Whether or not you attend law school, you’ve made a believer out of this cynical, stubborn old man. I’m sorry to have tried to take away that dream.

-Rafael

Twenty minutes later, there was a knock on his door. He expected it to be the Thai food he’d ordered. But when he opened the door, something much better awaited him on the other side.

Anna looked flustered for the first time since they’d started seeing each other regularly. “I know I kissed you before,” she said, “but I didn’t do it right. Can I try again?”

He pulled her in by her hand and pressed her to his chest. “It was good, but it could be better,” he replied, just before his lips met hers.

#rafael barba #rafael barba fanfiction #rafael barba fan fiction #rafael barba fanfic #rafael barba fan fic #rafael barba imagine #rafael barba x oc #ada rafael barba #law and order svu #law and order special victims unit #l&o:svu #raul esparza #svu #an unlikely love #my fic #svu fanfiction

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honeysuckle-writings · 4 years

Text

Part one PG Amasai

**This is like the first thing I've ever posted on here. So I hope you enjoy it? I'd love to continue if you do.**

'One, two, three...FUCK.'

"Mr. Saihara?"

'Just one more time... I'll finally get it.'

"Saihara."

'One, two, THREE.'

A loud thunk echoed, bringing the boy in question out of his thoughts. Saihara had been thumbing away at his portable gaming console and not giving any thought to the people around him, including the teacher that was now looming over him, with a book in hand that he had hit the desk with. Saihara must have lost track of time and didnt realize class had started. Shit.

"Uh..uhm.." Saihara began to stutter out.

"Uh uh." The teacher interrupted. "You know the drill."

"Y-yeah I do. Im-m sorry." What was he supposed to do? A new mini game had just come out for his favorite series, Danganronpa. Did people just expect him not to beat it the day it released just so he could have bragging rights? No one understood.

Unfortunately he had to stay after school for an hour or two as punishment. Not that it bothered him. He didn't exactly care to be at home. He would just end up hiding away in his room with his laptop anyway.

He lived solely with his Uncle who was a detective so he wasn't home that often. He never really knew what happened to his parents. He had been told quite a few different stories but they were never the same so Saihara gave up asking. Having detention would just pass time until dinner.

He put away the console into his messenger bag and continued trying to pay attention to the rest of the class. Key word being tried; His mind always wandered. He would always end up studying and doing well on his own so he would often daydream while in classes. He could just pick up where he left off in the game at lunch.

Two more hours rolled by just like normal. During transition times he would quickly zoom through the crowd to get to the next classroom without having to face any humiliation from bullys. He really didn't feel like battling them today.

Finally he had reached lunch time. He'd finally be able to play again. Saihara had packed a fruit bowl and a bottle of water into his bag this morning for lunch, so there was no need to crawl through the lines of students trying to buy their lunch.

He dashed to the back of the school. It had finally begun to turn autumn. The trees were all different shades of reds, yellows, and oranges while the brown ones had fallen to the ground. With each step he relished in the sound of them crushing. The cool air made it the perfect time to be outside. He had found a tree on the outskirts of the campus line and let his bag slump off his shoulder.

"Bout time you get here." A voice called from behind him.

"I'm s-sorry Akamatsu. I was trying to get here as, as fast as I could." He turned to face the blonde girl behind him. Her signature resting bitch face glaring at him.

"Did you bring the game?" She asked in a low tone. It felt like they were doing a more illegal exchange.

"Of course I-I did. Do you th-think I'm dumb?" Saihara was almost offended. Akamatsu was one of the only people he knew that loved Danganronpa too. Not as much as him of course, but she did have the same aspirations as him.

"No. Just stupid." She responded bluntly before sitting down on the ground beside his bag.

"Ha ha." He faked a laugh and joined her. She had her hands inside of his bag digging out the console. He didnt mind, he was used to her being very abrasive. He opted for looking around while she booted up the game.

Suddenly his heart began to have palpitations and his stomach started twisting. Off in the distance his eyes were glued on a tall man with green hair lighting up a cigarette as he went to cross over to the convinient store. Many of the more, rough students would go there to smoke or create chaos.

"Hey I fucking swear if you drool on yourself I'm going to take this home with me and hold it for ransome." Akamatsu called out to him.

Saihara wiped his mouth and frowned. "S-sorry."

The green haired man's name was Rantaro Amami, and Saihara had the biggest crush on him. Amami had already been in one of the killing games and survived. Saihara had watched every episode, with his crush growing more and more as he watch Amami help figure out the blackened. He almost didn't know how to react when he saw him in school. He was a celebrity, an idol, to Saihara. They hadn't even spoke but Saihara had thought of the most inappropriate fantasies involving the two of them. He vowed that one day he would finally open up to him. Whether it be during school or perhaps they could be on a season together. The thoughts sent shivers down Saihara's spine.

"You might as well talk to the guy." Akamatsu had begun pressing buttons and working through the beginning of the game on her own save file. "What's the worst that could happen? He says no?"

"Punch m-me and tell me t-to fuck off." Saihara answered.

"Okay but you'd get off on that so I dont see a problem here." Damnit she really did know him.

"Maybe one day."

"You say that everytime."

"Okay jeez." He tipped the hat he always wore down over his eyes a bit more, slightly embarrassed. Amami had already crossed over to the store and out of sight much to Saihara's dismay.

They stayed pretty quiet after that. Akamatsu stuck in the game and Saihara left to watch and help if she needed it, though most of the time she didn't. The hour flew by and Saihara watched for another sign of Amami. He had finished his fruit with Akamatsu's help.

"Fuck we're gunna have to go back to class. I dont want to." Akamatsu saved her place and sat it down on the ground near Saiharas bag.

Saihara looked away from the store and back to his friend. "Lucky me, I have to stay after school for a bit."

"Sucks." She stood up and brushed flakes of leaves off of her skirt. "Can I take the game while you're locked up?"

Saihara huffed. "Fine. B-but you cant take it home. I'll find y-you and kill you."

"Dont make promises you cant keep." She grabbed it off the ground and started back towards the school. "See you fucker." He watched her disappear before he stood up himself.

He slung the bag over his shoulder and looked over at the store once more. Perhaps he had just missed Amami. He huffed at the thought and gripped the strap of his bag before making his way to his next class. The kids had already scattered and the last thing he needed was to be late and have to stay even longer.

The crunch of leaves turned into steps on pavement as he followed the small groups of kids into the school.

"Hey freak!"

Fuck. Saihara knew that voice. Kaito Momota, the schools biggest asshole.

Without thinking Saihara began to sprint and push people out of the way.

Fuck fuck fuck.

Suddenly he was stopped after he hit directly into the back of someone. He fell on to his knees and caught himself with his hands. Oh god he was embarrassed.

The person he had run into didnt get nearly as affected. They had just been pushed forward slightly.

Saihara started to sputter an apology as he noticed their feet had turned to face him. His eyes slowly raised from the person's shoes, to their brown cardigan, to their face- Amami.

Amami stood over him with a scowl on his face and dark eyes.

Oh god Saihara was on his knees in front of him. His face immediately flushed.

"Oh m-my god I'm s-sorry. I didn't-"

"Didn't see me?" Amamis low voice finished his sentence. Amamis voice was so sensual, it did things to Saihara that he wouldnt admit to anyone else. Not even Akamatsu.

"Yeah, uhm."

"You going to get up?" Amami crossed his arms and Saihara had to keep from drooling at the sight of them and the thought of his hands grabbing him and-

"Alright suit yourself." Amami turned to leave.

This brought Saihara out of his daydream and he quickly stood up. "No!"

"Excuse me?" Amami stopped.

"I-I I mean uhm. No I n-need to apologize." Saihara knew he had to be as red as the color on Amamis loose tie.

"Okay. Go on."

"Uhm, I'm sorry f-for running into you."

"Okay."

"Hey you cant out run me!" Oh great, just what he needed. Amami to see just how much of a weakling he was.

Saihara bit his lip and looked toward Momota.

Momota walked up to the two of them, glaring at Amami. The tension between the two was something Saihara was not prepared for.

"The fuck are you doing Momota?" Amami questioned him.

"Look stay outta my business. The kid and I got some catch up to do."

"Dont you have anything better to do than compensate for your tiny ass dick." Amami didnt miss a bit nor was he phased by Momota.

"Do you want me to fuck you up right here pretty boy?"

"I'm not into that. Now leave."

Momota seemed to be thrown off at the comment and he glared at Saihara. He took this as a warning for next time. With that, Momota stormed off.

Saihara was grateful. No one had ever gotten Momota to leave like that.

"Amami. Thank you."

"Shut. Dont drag me into your shit anymore. I already deal with him."

"I-im sorry?" Saihara was not quite expecting the response. He knew Amami was a little cold but he was not prepared.

"Just be careful next time." Amami turned and walked off.

That response seemed, somehow softer. Amami was turning out to be very confusing and it only intrigued Saihara more.

#do i continue #hgdyjkbgfhvb #danganronpa #drv3 #pregame #pregame danganronpa #shuichi saihara #rantaro amami #kaede akamatsu #kaito momota #pregame saihara #pregame amami #pregame akamatsu #pregame momota #amasai

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four-loose-screws · 4 years

Text

FE4 Suzuki Novelization Translation (Gen II) - Chapter 8

If you would like to start from the beginning, read a missed part, etc., click here!

FE Game Script Translations - FE Novel Translations - Original FE Support Conversations

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Chapter 8 - The Soul of Thracia

The moment Travant saw Altena, he yelled, "Altena! What is the meaning of this!? Why didn't you fight in the attack on Munster Castle!?"

"Father, I…"

"I don't want to hear any excuses! If you want to say something to me, then carry out your orders first! Just what was that!? Not only did you disobey your orders, but you also watched on in silence as your allies fought. Then, you shamelessly ran away, an act that embarrasses all of Thracia! Wouldn't you agree!?"

"..."

"After you ran away and came home, the rebels attacked Mease Castle, and it was captured. It was a terrible loss, but Maikov and every single member of his unit stayed and fought honorably until the moment they died. Meanwhile, what did you do? Do you think I'll treat you differently because you're my daughter?"

Altena had nothing to say in response.

'If your only other option is to run away, then choose to die a glorious death.'

That was not just an idea taken from “the aesthetics of destruction.” It was also the saying that had become known as the Soul of Thracia. While it originally praised being honorable even in defeat, and other similar actions, it had become the standard to which mercenaries were held when they were contracted for work. It was the only option for an entire country living in poverty. (Though of course, no one would openly admit to such a thing.)

This "Soul of Thracia" was drilled into the soldiers' heads, and even Altena had been raised that way.

"My next plan is to quickly attack and retake Mease. I order you to lead the unit that will attack the castle.”

"Yes, Father. I will restore my honor."

However, they were unable to carry out the attack right away. This was because Travant realized that the liberation army was much stronger than he'd thought.

And so, he finally signed an alliance treaty with Emperor Arvis, who then announced that he would send reinforcements.

There were, of course, many people against that decision.

General Hannibal could not keep silent about the agreement, and sent a messenger to the king.

His message read, "It is true we haven’t fought with the empire for twenty years. However, they would undoubtedly try to invade if they found an opening from which to do so. I cannot agree to allying with an empire like that, no matter the circumstances. I think we should first call for a ceasefire with the liberation army."

But Travant rejected that proposal after one mere glimpse at it.

"What a fool. Not once in the history of Thracia have we ever called for a ceasefire with an enemy we've lost to."

A few days later, Travant went to Hannibal's Kapathogia Castle, and kidnapped Hannibal's adopted son Coirpre to hold him hostage.

Hannibal was known as the "Shield of Thracia," and having his fighting spirit questioned was the most insulting thing to him in the world.

'It is pathetic to be shamed like this after so many years of loyal service. And then he expects me to fight gloriously and die?' Hannibal thought when he received orders to deploy his army, the strongest unit of armored knights in all of Thracia.

An army led by Bishop Judah of the Loptr Church was the first of the reinforcements that arrived from the empire.

He was granted rule over Grutia Castle, then he immediately gathered up the smart, good-looking children from the castle town, and sent them to Miletos.

Rumor that child hunts had begun in Thracia immediately began to circulate around the country.

Travant went to Grutia Castle to confirm the truth.

"When you signed a treaty with the Grannvalian Empire, you also accepted the Loptr Church. And our one and only god Loptous wants innocent children. If we do as he wishes, both the empire and Thracia will receive his blessing, and prosper.

“I also come bearing good news, King Travant. I've received word that a powerful dragon knight unit from the empire has arrived in Miletos. They'll probably enter Thracia within the week."

"Is that so?" Travant's voice was unusually gloomy. "Then let’s finally begin our attack."

"We will now attack Mease Castle, whether we succeed or die! All units, attack!"

As they flew towards Mease Castle at full speed, Altena thought, 'We're going to fail.'

She had this realization when she saw that General Hannibal, who she could see from her left, did not move at all.

But she couldn't blame him.

'Father took his son hostage, so there's nothing he can do. He's probably looking for a place to die as well. So we'll probably try to fight honorably all on our own.'

Altena was ready to die. And now that she felt ready, she no longer worried.

Even as she watched the members of her unit fall one by one, she was completely calm.

'I'll follow them shortly.'

Her dragon dived, and as she skimmed the ground, a soldier with a very small build jumped out in front of her.

They weren't holding a weapon, but waving their arms and shouting, "Please wait, Lady Altena!"

She landed her dragon in front of the soldier, and realized that she was about to raise her lance.

'What am I doing? He must still be just a child.'

He looked to be about seventeen or eighteen years old, and through the nervousness in his expression, she could see some childishness left in his face.

'Killing a boy like this would bring no honor.' She thought, and lowered her lance.

"Yes, I am indeed Princess Altena, daughter of Travant."

"I am Leif of Leonster."

"Leif? Oh, that's right, you must be the son of Quan, whom my father killed. Are you going to tell me you want to take your revenge out on me?"

"No, Lady Altena. You are my sister."

"What!? Don't be stupid! Have you lost your mind because this is your first battle?"

"No, I'm serious. The proof is that lance."

"What? What about this lance?"

"It is the Earth Lance Gáe Bolg, which passed down through the Leonsterian Royal Family."

"This is Gáe Bolg? If it really is the legendary weapon you speak of, then how can I, a member of the Thracian Royal Family, wield it?"

Just then, she saw a cavalier rush up to them.

She started to raise her lance, but saw that he wasn't carrying a weapon, either. Then she realized that all the other dragon knights had disappeared already.

"My name is Finn. I am a knight that served Prince Quan." He dismounted his horse and greeted her.

"Eighteen years ago, Prince Quan and Princess Ethlyn were leading the Leonsterian cavalier unit through the Aed Desert when King Travant attacked and killed all of them. At the time, you were two years old, and the princess had taken you with her, but you went missing. Gáe Bolg, which Prince Quan had with him, was also lost. But there it is, in your hand, right now! I often saw it right next to me, so I'm sure that is the Gáe Bolg. And, if I may say so…" The knight started to say, with tears shining in his eyes. He saw Quan's features very clearly in Altena's face. "I apologize for losing my composure. But your eyes and mouth look so much like Lord Quan's… Princess, it is so good to see you safe…"

She couldn't imagine this knight before her was lying. Though the memories were fuzzy, she had a feeling she remembered hearing the name Finn before.

However, there was no way she could believe a story that turned her entire world upside down right away.

"I can't believe you. The person I believed to be my father, you're saying he's my true father's killer? ...There's no way… it can't be…"

"It's the truth. Please, look straight at me. Then you should know whether my words are a lie or not. Please, Sister."

There certainly wasn't any sign on the boy's serious face that he was lying.

"Sister, please…"

"Princess…"

"Wait. I'm going to go confirm this with Father. I'll decide everything after that."

She interrupted their words, then ordered her dragon to take off into the sky.

As Altena stormed into the reception room, Travant glared at her.

"Altena, what are you doing? Did you abandon your unit and run home again?"

"Father! I have a question that I want to ask you. Is it true that I'm not your child? Am I Prince Quan's daughter?"

"Hmph… So you finally figured it out. ...But that is fine. I knew this day would come.

“Yes, you are Quan's daughter. But what of it? Warriors are taught that it is kill, or be killed. I thought about killing you back then, but did not make any attempts on your life. The one who raised you instead of killing you was me. There is no changing that fact."

"Then… Father… you… killed… my real parents…"

"I did. I am the one who killed Quan and Ethlyn."

"Grrr… I won't forgive you! You tricked me… Father! No, Travant!"

Arion saw her reach for her sword, and cut in. "Stop, Altena!"

"Do not stop me, Brother! I will kill this man. I won't let anyone get in my way."

"I won't let you. If you will turn your blade against Father, then I will fight you."

"W-Wait! I can't fight you!"

"You're too late!" Arion swung his sword.

"No, Brother!"

Altena leaned against Arion as she fell and collapsed on the floor, then did not move again.

"Did you kill her?" Travant asked quietly. "You didn't have to go that far. …Though this too may have be fate…

“Arion, since things have come to this, I will go. There is nothing more that I can do. I leave everything to you."

"Understood. You can rely on me, Father."

Travant stood, picked up the lance that had been leaning against the throne, and handed it to Arion. "I give this lance to you."

"This… This is Gungnir, isn't it? You said you're going to deploy soon, so why give it to me? ...No… Father…"

Travant did not answer, instead looking far off into the distance. But before long, he began to tell a story, still looking away.

"Our country was founded by Dragon Knight Dáinn. Dáinn brandished the Heavens Lance Gungnir, and fought the dark emperor. And it has been told that the founder of the Kingdom of Leonster, Lance Knight Njörun, was Dáinn's younger sister…"

Arion had no idea why his father had begun telling such a legend, but knew he was serious, and listened quietly.

"I often dreamed for a very long time that I was flying slowly in the skies above Leonster. You were to my right, holding Gungnir. And Altena was to my left, holding Gáe Bolg…"

Travant turned towards his son, and continued on in his normal tone of voice. "But that dream is gone. And not just that dream. For twenty years, we did not allow any other countries to invade Thracia. Now look what's become of us. The rebel army is in Mease, and the empire is stationed in Grutia. You will decide what will become of this country from now on. They do not hate you."

"Are you telling me to call for a ceasefire with them? I too am a warrior of Thracia. I would also find it difficult to agree to a ceasefire."

"I'm telling you to do as you wish. Since you always think first of the people, I would just get in your way. Please take everything into account, and do as you wish. I am happy that someone worthy of Gungnir will inherit it. Farewell, Arion."

"Father!"

Travant did not look back.

Arion was frozen in shock, but the voices of the soldiers shouting from far off reached his ears.

"To battle!"

"To battle, King Travant!"

Travant only led the senior dragon knights, who had fought with him for a very long time.

"Show them the bravery of Thracia’s soldiers!!"

Everyone knew what he really meant from those words alone. However, they did not feel sad about it. They all deployed looking as if they were only going out on reconnaissance.

Once they were close to the enemy army, they each chose a target, and attacked.

"I am King Travant of Thracia! Out of my way, you insignificant fools!" He yelled, then advanced towards the enemy army. Those who carelessly approached him immediately fell prey to his lance.

"You won't win in head-to-head combat! Defeat them with bows and magic!"

In response to Lewyn's words, Ced cast a wind magic spell.

Travant’s dragon fell to the ground, but he got up. He readied his lance, and shouted once more, "I am King Travant of Thracia!"

The other dragon knights had already each achieved their own glorious death.

"I'll stop him!" Febail yelled, and drew back Yewfelle's string.

His aim did not falter, and the arrow shot straight through the Thracian King's heart.

"I am Thracia…" Those were Travant's final words.

"Altena! Altena!"

She could hear a voice in the distance.

'Brother is looking for me.'

She didn't know why, but she was recalling a memory of them playing hide-and-seek when they were kids. She thought he would never find her, but at the same time, she wanted him to find her right away, grab her hand, and pull her out of her hiding spot.

'I'm here! Hurry and find me, and laugh when you see me.'

"Altena! Altena!"

The moment the voice got closer, Altena snapped back to reality.

"Are you awake? I'm sorry about earlier. I pretended to cut you and cause a vital injury. It was the only choice I had."

"I know that. But, Brother, where is Father… no, King Travant?"

"He can never come back."

"..."

"He's probably attacking the rebel army right around now."

"What… What does that mean?"

"You shouldn't ask. You are already Prince Quan's princess. You don't know the feelings of the Thracian King."

"Brother, what should I do?"

"There are people waiting for the new you. Return to them."

"But then I won't see you ever again…"

"That is also fate. You are already the descendant of a Crusader. You gave no choice but to fulfill your duty."

"Brother, let's request a ceasefire! If King Travant is gone, you shouldn't have any obstacles standing in the way of that anymore. I can't fight you."

"If I hadn't heard Father's last words, that might have been true. However, it's too late. Go, Altena."

"I'm going to go talk to the liberation army and come back. Please at least wait until I'm done."

Altena started to hurry out of the reception room, but Arion called out to her.

“Altena!”

"Yes, Brother?"

"The next time we meet will be on the battlefield. And I will not hold back. Prepare yourself, Altena."

#fire emblem #fe #fe4 #genealogy of the holy war #nintendo #super nintendo #snes #famicom #super famicom #japan #japanese #translation #novel #light novel #fe4 suzuki novelization translation

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scav-eng-er · 5 years

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“I love you.” Modern AU Reylo

This is my first writing idea, but just thought of this and it was so cute that I had to try and write it. Give it a read, it gave me feels writing it. Thanks!

Rey and Ben’s apartment was filled with chaotic laughter this morning. The incredibly tall man scurried around with one shoe, trying to find the rest of his paperwork for his proposal at work. Rey couldn’t help but giggle as she helped. She was to blame for making him late anyway, offering some much needed morning “fun time” to help with his stress. Her buns were in disarray as she weaved around their dining table, flipping through miscellaneous papers scattered about, looking for anything that resembled a proposal. What did a proposal look like anyway? Rey didn’t know much about office work, as that was Ben’s area of expertise. His black button down and fancy watch gave that away, while her dirty nails and faded denim overalls proved her love of getting down and dirty in her auto shop. She couldn’t help but glance at her boyfriend and her heart always beat a little harder, a little faster whenever she did.

His dark mop of hair that tickled her when they cuddled, his strong arms that held her whenever she needed a hug, but nothing could compare by how much he understood her. She had lost count of how many times Ben understood her without her needing to say anything. When she wanted to be alone, he would go off and do his own thing for the day. When she needed help but was too stubborn to admit it, he would leave trails, clues and hints for her to “discover” so that she could feel accomplished in her own way. When she had nightmares of the orphanage and would wake up gasping and unable to speak, he would kiss her until the words stuck in her throat melted into breathless sighs of love…

She loved him.

God, did she love him.

She had known that for weeks now, and enjoyed hearing the word in her head, just to herself. But now, beneath that voice in her head was the fear that it was not reciprocated. They knew so much about one another, things she hadn’t even told Finn, Poe or Rose. But had he felt as sure as she had? What if she hadn’t even scratched the surface with him? Would he run away if she said it too soon? He wouldn’t actually run, would he? Her thoughts broke when she heard him curse after hitting his shoulder against the bathroom door.

“Did you leave it by the printer?” She yelled across their home.

“I dun fink so!” Ben replied, hastily brushing his teeth while tying the other shoe he had luckily found in the hallway.

Rey sighed and scratched her head, making her way to the kitchen. Her fuzzy socks kept her feet warm against the cool tile. As she reached for the coffee pot, her eyes caught a small stack of paper under Ben’s jacket. She gasped and lifted the jacket, revealing a stapled, hole punched, perfectly bound (of course he would bind it) booklet. In big, bolded letters, a title: “Proposal: Solo Corporation, 2020.”

“I found it!” She cheered.

“Oh thank god!” Ben appeared running into the kitchen. Rey held out the proposal for him, but cried out happily when instead she felt his arms lift her by her waist as he spun her around.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” He continued before finally setting her down, kissing her forehead. The butterflies in Rey’s tummy fluttered while she tried to stop the room spinning around her.

Ben glanced at his watch, “Okay, if I hurry, I think I can make it!”

He threw on his jacket, and placed his proposal and laptop in his messenger bag before slipping it over his broad shoulders.

He patted his pockets, “Okay, keys, check. Phone, check.”

“Kiss?” Rey asked innocently. He gave a knowing smirk before leaning over her for a quick peck.

“Check.”

“Now get going!”

“Okay! I’ll text you how the meeting goes!”

“Okay.”

“And let me know what you wanna do for dinner!” He swung the door open in a hurry.

“Okay!” She smiled through her annoyance.

“I’ll see you soon! I love you!”

And just like that, the door shut, and he was gone…

Rey was frozen in her spot. A wave of chills went down her head to her toes that not even her fuzzy socks could warm. Her heart began to beat so hard that she could hear the blood pumping in her ears.

He just said it..

He just said it!

“Wha-…uh…” She couldn’t speak.

The apartment was so silent, so… different than it was a few moments ago. Rey couldn’t move, still in shock, repeating the scene in her head a million times. The morning sun began to fill the kitchen with warmth. The rays upon her back filled her with hope, nervousness, and love. Hope for what the future could hold in store for them. Nervousness for the way he said it, if he really meant it. Love for everything and anything she is, and wanting to give it all to him. This feeling that her heart no longer belongs to her, but to him.

All because of three words that poured from Ben’s lips.

Reality caught up to Rey as she silently began to clean the kitchen, remembering to sit down with Ben tonight to ask about the “L” word.

That is until, she heard heavy footsteps hurrying down the hall and…

THUD!

Rey jumped at the sound of the door slamming against the wall. She spun to see Ben, hair all over the place, his shirt untucked, messenger bag hanging around his neck, panting with a look of fear in his eyes.

“What are you-“ Rey began.

Ben blurted out, “I got to the lobby when I realized what just happened…what I just said.”

Rey slowly made her way around the kitchen island, Ben still standing in the doorway, trying to come up with an excuse, but it just came out as rambles.

“I tried to make it to the elevator but the doors were closed and I couldn’t wait so I had to haul ass up those fucking stairs!” He rushed out his sentence before taking a deep inhale, trying to catch his breath.

Rey covered her mouth, trying to stop the chuckle at the sight of her winded boyfriend who just ran up nine flights of stairs.

“And, and now…I just-you see. I meant it, but you don’t have to say it if you’re not ready! That..I totally understand. I just wanted to tell you, because…it’s not something I say often. But if you…if you do - or don’t which is fine - I…shit.” Ben had given up of his embarrassing ramble and hung his head in defeat. He must’ve looked like an idiot, rambling about the “L” word in front of the one person he wanted to hear it. He wanted to tell her when he thought she was ready, but he still didn’t know if she felt the same way. To him, she was so confident, brave, kind, outgoing and so friendly. Ben never thought she needed him and much as he needed her, let alone loved him. He felt goosebumps as he heard her footsteps get closer.

“Rey, I’m so sorry if this is awkward for you. I just had to say it because that was what I felt, and feel now..If you want, we can talk about it when I get back fr-“

“I love you too.”

Ben’s head perked up at the sound, the sweet, sweet sound that came from Reys mouth. It sounded better than he had ever imagined. Her voice was so calming, he wanted her to say it again.

He watched as she inched her way closer to him, her cheeks flushed and red. They stood before each other, just gazing.

“I love you.” He whispered.

“I love you.” She replied. He closed his eyes in wonder. He could die happy right there, hearing those words come from her.

Rey wrapped her arms around his neck, almost like she had to feel the vibrations of his throat as he said it, over and over again. He wrapped his arms around her waist, feeling the living being of his love. Her warm skin, her hair smelled like cinnamon and hearing it whispered in his ears was enough for him to know just how much he was loved in return.

“I love you.”

The proposal was a distant memory. The coffee pot forgotten. The only thing either of them focused on, were the soft spoken words between ears and lips of how much they loved each other.

#Reylo #Reylo modern au #rey #Kylo Ren #Ben Solo #reylo au #modern reylo #modern!rey #sw #star wars #modern headcanon #scavenger writes

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foxyotomelady · 5 years

Text

It wasn't supposed to be, Chapter III (JuminxOC/Reader)

Author’s notes:

Guys, I'm still doing it. I'm still keeping it as a slow burn.

Let's see how long I can last.

Buy Me A Ko-Fi Have a nice reading!

Riyu was terribly bored in this large apartment. She had no idea how Jumin could live here alone - it was far too much space for one person and a cat. But Jumin spent most of his time at work anyway.

The only thing she could do here was watching TV and having fun with Elizabeth - even though Jumin did not want her to approach the cat. However, she could not help that the cat clung to her, asked for caresses and followed her step by step - she had to feel lonely here, left alone for so many hours.

Riyu was just sitting on the couch in the living room, with Elizabeth on her lap when her phone rang. She looked at the screen and cursed under her breath. It was Mr. Chairman. Her stomach twisted. At times like this, she was losing faith that she could really manage it longer.

She took a deep breath, picked up the phone and spoke in the sweetest voice she could manage, "Hello, Mr. Han. How are you?"

"Hello, darling. And how are you? My son is giving you some problems?" She refrained from telling the truth, "No, absolutely none. He is very kind to me." "Wonderful, I knew I could count on him. I hope that this time will allow you to get to know each other better and get along. Our dinner did not go very well, but I think that with time Jumin will accept our relationship." No, She thought. He will never accept it. He will always despise me and I'm not surprised at all. "Yes, I think so too!" She said. "How the delegation is going, Mr. Han? Are you very busy?" Mr. Chairman sighed, "Yes, unfortunately. Sorry, darling, I won't be able to call too often." Riyu refrained from squeaking in joy and relief. Instead, she gave her voice a sad and disappointed tone, "Oh, I'm so sorry. I wish we could talk, but I understand." "If something bad happens, call my son. He'll definitely help you." "Um... Actually, I don't have his phone number." "No? It is very irresponsible of him that he did not give it to you. I will send it to you in a moment, darling. Sorry, I have to go, have a nice day." "Thank you, the same to you!" Riyu hung up quickly and leaned back on the sofa with a loud sigh. After a moment, she received the promised message with Jumin's phone number. Elizabeth brushed over her hand, demanding caresses again. Riyu scratched her ear, "You don't even know how lucky you are. You have great protection, someone who loves you sincerely... You don't have to run away from anyone. I almost envy you that you're a cat." In order not to go completely crazy and stop talking to the cat, she turned on the television - today she turned it off and on several times, unable to find anything interesting to watch. This time she found something that made her heart jump to her throat. They talked about... about her! Not just about her. About the dinner she spent with Jumin and his father. Shit! The media thought she was Jumin's girlfriend! She snarled angrily and buried her face in her hands. She hoped that this news would not reach Mr. Chairman. For a moment she even wondered whether to call Jumin, but she thought it would be too tactless. Besides, he hated her. He certainly didn't want her to disturb him at work.

"Assistant Kang, contact every online service, every magazine and every TV channel that spreads these funny rumors. Tell them that if they do not take them off or correct their information, I will sue each of them." Jaehee looked at him with wide eyes, "Mr. Han is... This's very much-" "You don't work here to hang around," He interrupted her coldly. "Yes, yes, of course. I'll take care of it immediately," Jaehee was about to leave, but she stopped and looked at him. "Mr. Han, I read the chat room. Is it true that this Riyu girl is... in your apartment?" Jumin nodded, returning to studying the reports and documents to sign, "Yes, at my father's request."

Jaehee said nothing more, just adjusted her glasses and left. However, Jumin knew that she thought exactly the same as he did - this situation would not affect the company's image well. He could do nothing more than just bury himself at work. After a few hours of intense mental effort, when he took a coffee break, his phone vibrated. Jumin raised an eyebrow - the message came from an unknown number. Hello, Jumin. Riyu here. I hope I'm not disturbing you. I just wanted to let you know that your father gave me your number. In case I need to contact you suddenly. If you mind, I will remove this number from my list. Jumin took a big sip of coffee and thought for a long time. He hesitated. Ultimately, however, he decided to write a few sentences in response. Keep my number. I also add yours. You are now in my care, so please contact me if you have any problems. I don't want to disappoint my father. He thought that this would end their brief exchange of messages, but no. In a moment he received another one. Thank you, you're very kind. I hope we can get along. How is Elizabeth the 3rd? He had no idea why he wrote it. He did it faster than he thought. Not much time passed and he received a reply message. She is fine. I know you didn't want me to get close to her, but I can't help it! Just look at this! There was a picture in the message. Elizabeth was lying on the girl's lap, curled up, definitely happy and calm. Jumin couldn't control how his lips lifted in a slight smile. Isn't she a magnificent creature? Definitely! She's beautiful! And her fur is so soft and delicate :) Can I brush her? I don't see a problem. You should find the brush in the cabinet near her bed. Yes, I found it. Have a nice day at work! What... What just happened?

Jumin froze for a moment, his cup of coffee stuck in the air just before his mouth. He was stunned. Why did he even write to her? And let her take care of Elizabeth? He set down his cup and frowned. He had to admit it, she was really good at this game. He didn't think it would ever happen. That one of his father's women would force him to be nice to her. He wondered if he would write to her to leave Elizabeth the 3rd alone, but he thought it would be too inappropriate now. It was difficult for him to focus on work for the next few hours. He was nervous and stressed. He didn't even want to get in the chat room, though his cell phone kept him informed that someone was writing something on the messenger. They must have been fooling around again, not understanding the gravity of the situation. When he returned to the apartment, Riyu was sitting on the sofa in the living room. Not for the first time, he found her in this state - thoughtful, she did not move, stared blankly ahead. Why did this view bother him so much? He cleared his throat and only then did the girl realize his presence. She twitched in her seat, turned off the television, which she didn't seem to watch anyway, and got up from her seat. "Hello, Jumin. How was your day at work?" Jumin looked at her sharply, "Are you really interested in this or are you pretending to please me?" Her face also became more acute, "I'm trying to behave normally, as we will spend some time with each other. Should we still argue and bite each other's heads off? Don't you think that it will be quite tiring for both sides?" "You have a point." Jumin adjusted his tie. "I will order dinner, do you want something specific?" Why did he even ask her that? The girl blinked, apparently surprised no less than him, "Oh, some scrambled eggs are enough." "Scrambled eggs? Wouldn't you like to eat something more... exquisite?" Riyu smiled to herself, "You ask because you really are interested or do you want to please me?" He looked at her for a moment in a misunderstanding, and she burst out laughing. She had a surprisingly pleasant laugh. "I was joking," She explained. "I don't need anything fancy. I'm rather used to ordinary food." "Let me choose something for you, though. I insist. I don't want you to complain to my father that I didn't host you properly." So, Jumin ordered a dish of fresh salmon with boiled vegetables and honey sauce. As they waited in the kitchen for the food to be delivered, again in embarrassing silence, Elizabeth suddenly jumped on Riyu's lap. "You see it yourself!" The girl called with a smile. Elizabeth purred as she began to stroke and scratch her. Jumin watched them both for a moment, "Maybe she did like you for some reason." Riyu had a very delicate and surprisingly nice smile on her face as she looked at the cat on her lap, "Maybe she senses that I like animals. I used to have a dog, but unfortunately, he has already left me..." Jumin's throat tightened. When it came to animals, it was difficult for him to control his emotions, "I'm sorry. It must have been difficult for you." The girl nodded, "He was my only friend. The animals are extraordinary, don't you think? They have clean, sincere hearts. They love unconditionally, they don't want anything in return." Jumin was really positively surprised to hear these words from her mouth. He almost didn't believe Riyu was really saying it. Have he really been wrong about her so far? The doorbell rang. Food was most likely delivered. No, he couldn't be wrong about her. She was just clever and knew what to say to make him doubt his judgment. When dinner was ready on the table, the girl looked at the elegantly decorated dish with delight. It was actually one of the more casual dishes he ate, but she was delighted like a child. How strange. They ate in silence until Elizabeth the 3rd began to mew, sitting on the floor near the table. "No, Elizabeth. This food is not for you," Jumin sighed. "Oh, don't be like that!" The girl said loudly, pouting. "Can't I give her a piece of salmon?" "Okay, but make sure it's not covered in spices and not dipped in the sauce. It could hurt her." Riyu looked at him like at an idiot, "I know that."

"Right, you said you like animals, so I'm guessing you might have some knowledge about them," He corrected himself, then got up from his seat. "Would you like some wine?" The girl was just handing Elizabeth a piece of salmon, which the cat snatched from her hand and fled to eat it somewhere far away from them. Then Riyu nodded, "Maybe a little bit." Jumin took wine and glasses from the top shelf. He poured a little to each one and sat back in its place. Again, they ate and drank for a while in silence, which this time the girl broke, turning the glass in her hand and looking at the wine flowing down the walls, "Jumin, did you see the news?" "The news?" She nodded, "News, media on the internet and the like. Everywhere they screaming that I'm supposedly your girlfriend." "Don't worry about it. I've already made sure to cut those ridiculous rumors. It won't affect your plans for my father." The girl took a long sip of wine, narrowed her eyes, "You really judge me without thinking. But well... I can't blame you for that." For the rest of the dinner, Riyu continued refilling her wine. He didn't stop her. It wasn't his business. Finally, he left her alone in the kitchen and took care of his own matters. He still had some work to do, and after that, when he left the home office to go to the bathroom before bedtime, he was surprised by a certain view... Riyu was dozing on the sofa in the living room. An empty wine bottle stood on the floor next to it. Elizabeth the 3rd lay curled up in the girl's legs. Jumin approached her slowly, leaned over her, "Riyu?" There was no answer. The girl was completely gone. Jumin looked at Elizabeth, "You really like her, don't you? How strange." He found the blanket and covered the sleeping girl with it, then looked at her small and thin figure for a moment. Again these tormenting thoughts caught him... Something was bothering him. He adjusted his tie, massaged his eyelids and went to the shower. He hoped the cold water would let him chase away this anxiety. When he left the bathroom, ready to sleep, he saw that the girl was still lying on the sofa, now curled up like a cat sleeping next to her. He left her like this and went to his bedroom. Finally, already in bed, he decided to look at the messenger.

[Jumin Han has entered the chat room]

V: Hello, Jumin.

Jumin Han: V, you are here.

V: Yes, I finally found some time.

V: Is it true what everyone is talking about?

Jumin Han: You mean?

V: That girl. Riyu?

Jumin Han: Yes, unfortunately, it's true. She is my father's new prey. And she is currently in my home.

V: It must be very...

Jumin Han: Uncomfortable? Yes.

V: Actually, I was thinking about something.

V: This may seem strange to you, but please hear me out.

Jumin Han: I'm listening.

V: It's interesting that this girl suddenly appeared. Just when I started thinking about resuming hosting parties.

Jumin Han: You want RFA to host parties again? But what does this girl have to do with it?

V: Well, does Riyu have any occupation? Jumin Han: I have no idea. Probably not. Jumin Han: I still don't understand. V: What would you say about her taking over Rika's duties? Jumin Han: What? V: Since there is nothing she can do there to occupy herself and she will stay in your house for some time, V: I thought she could take care of inviting guests. You could help her if needed. Jumin Han: Let me tell you something, V. Jumin Han: Riyu currently is sleeping on the sofa in the living room. V:

Jumin Han: She drank so much wine that she just fell asleep there, not caring about what I think of her. Jumin Han: Do you really want such an irresponsible person to host parties? V: I understand what you mean, Jumin. V: But many times, I've seen you in a similar state. V: And that doesn't make you an irresponsible person. Jumin Han: You have a point. Jumin Han: I always appreciated and considered your ideas. Jumin Han: But still, Jumin Han: this one is your stupidest. V: ^^' V: I think it will be quite refreshing for everyone if we start hosting parties again. Jumin Han: I understand, but why her? V: Well, we don't have anyone else to do it. V: And I have a strange feeling that we can't miss this chance. Jumin Han: A strange feeling? You know I don't believe in such things. V: So just try to trust me. Jumin Han: What about the others? V: I wish they'd be here. But I'm guessing they'll read this conversation. V: Please, talk to them about it. And discuss it with Riyu. We can't force her to do it in the end.

V: I feel Rika would want that.

Jumin Han: How could Rika wants that? She didn't even know this girl.

V: I feel that she would like someone to continue her duties. Please, can you trust me?

Jumin Han: Fine, just because you ask for it.

Jumin Han: But I can't guarantee that others will agree.

#now things are about to get real interesting #poor Jumin is confused #fanfiction #mystic messenger #mysme fanfic #mysme #jumin #jumin han #Jumin x Reader #jumin x OC #jumin han x reader #jumin han x OC #V #slow burn

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artlessdynamite · 5 years

Text

Just to see him smile

Summary: Every day at 4pm, Dan goes to the same diner and orders the same drink. On this day, something happens that Dan was not expecting.

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: none (I think)

A/N: This is the fic made for @phandomreversebang based on the prompt from @penisdinosaur whose lovely art can be found here. Also, an special thanks to @danhowellz for being an amazing beta who helped this fic be the best it can be!

[read it on ao3]

————-

The harsh glow from the red sign above the diner made Dan feel at home. Every day, he would head there for the malt-shakes and the very friendly waitress, Lou. The familiar surroundings and the flashiness of the neon lights made him smile with ease. He came to a halt right beside the door and left his bike laying on the pavement, not bothering to secure it. He never really needed to anyway.

Dan stepped inside, the bell over the door rang making the waitress look up to see who entered. Dan’s smile widened at the sight of her. She smiled at him, then encouraged him to sit with a nod of the head. He headed to his usual booth in the back that was still close enough to the counter so Lou could still go up to talk to him. He also really enjoyed the fact that the jukebox was so close to him. He really did enjoy listening to all the songs, even if most were not exactly his taste. At least, he would not admit that they were actually his taste.

He enjoyed spending time there because it helped him forget about the outside world. It was as if whenever he was inside the diner, he was in a different world altogether. The music playing from the jukebox, the neon lights all around him, and the bright red from all the booths and stools made him feel weirdly at peace. Looking out the window, watching as the cars went by made him lose track of time as if he was in a sort of daze. It helped him stop thinking, all that remained inside his mind was the tune of the song playing.

As another song played, which Dan didn’t know the title of, Lou approached his booth startling Dan.

She giggled. “I didn’t mean to scare you, Dan, but you do make it easy.”

“I’ll have you know that I am not usually this easy to scare!”

She smiled softly at him. “Okay, if you say so!” She looked out the window for a second before she returned her gaze to Dan. “So, what would you like today?”

Dan didn’t waste a moment before asking for a chocolate malt-shake.

“So just the usual then.”

“Yup,” Dan smiled.

“You should really eat something, you are looking skinny, sweetie,” She sighed before turning around.

Dan laughed as he saw her walk away while shaking her head disapprovingly. He went back to staring out the window, wondering if he should continue reading the book he brought with him. He decided to at least take it out of his messenger bag to look like he was doing something. Not that he would usually bother to do it, but the diner was buzzing with life and he wanted to at least appear busy so no one would bother him.

Just as Dan managed to find the book, the bell above the door rang. He usually didn’t bother to see who it was that came into the diner, but something made him look up at that moment. Dan was certainly glad that he looked up. The man standing by the door and looking around, certainly made him hold his breath for a beat too long. He was tall, maybe even taller than Dan which was unusual. His striking black hair was pushed to the side, a strand of his hair falling into his face. Dan could not help but see how his clothes made his lean figure look extremely attractive. None of it could have prepared him for the brief moment in which they made eye contact and the man smiled at him. The shocking blue of his eyes had Dan swooning over someone he did not know the name of.

He continued staring at the spot in which the man had been standing, before he walked away to sit on one of the stools. All kinds of thoughts raced around his mind.

Dan shook his head slightly hoping that would help him clear his mind. It did not help, but it did help him notice that Lou was smirking at him from behind the counter. He could not help but blush even more than he already was, something he did not notice he was doing until that moment. He could not help but notice how obvious he had been about the staring. He dropped his head into his hands and groaned. He could not believe he had done something so embarrassing.

He kept his head down for a few minutes, hoping to, at the very least, stop blushing. That proved to be more difficult than expected since Dan’s mind insisted on thinking about the man. Dan only looked up when Lou said his name next to his booth. She was smirking down at him with a glint of humor in her eyes.

“Was I really all that obvious?”

“You could have only made it more obvious by drooling all over yourself,” She smiled widely, “Which I am surprised you didn’t start doing.”

“Please tell me you are kidding!”

“No such luck sweetie, but hey cheer up, here is your shake and a slice of pie,” She placed the plate and glass gently in front of Dan.

Dan actually looked up at her, “You know you don’t have to keep giving me pie every time, right?”

“Oh sweetie, this time it’s not from me,” She turned and started walking away.

“What do you mean?” Dan called at her a bit too loud.

She laughed and walked back to talk to the counter, ignoring his question. He watched as she started to talk to the man which he tried to avoid staring at, in the chance that he would end up embarrassing himself again. He did, however, notice the glint of mischievousness in Lou’s eyes.

He begrudgingly looked away from her figure and turned back to his shake. He took a sip and opened the book, finally deciding that reading would be the best option. After reading a few sentences, he turned to eye the slice of pie suspiciously, wondering if he should eat it. After all, he wanted to show that he was annoyed at Lou for not answering his question. After a few seconds, however, he caved. He could not let it go to waste knowing how good the pie was at the diner. He took a small bite and closed his eyes enjoying the sweet taste of apples and the buttery texture of the crust.

Dan heard a chuckle followed by “Is the pie good?”

His eyes shot open only to find himself looking right into very blue eyes, which he noticed were not pure blue, but had green and golden speckles all over. Dan averted his eyes as soon as he realized what he was doing. He coughed once trying to not choke.

“I- uh- yes?” Dan mumbled.

The laugh that followed made Dan’s face heat up. Dan tried to not look at him but he couldn’t help it. His smile lit up his face and his eyes crinkled and Dan could not help but think that it was adorable.

“Sorry, sorry,” The man tried to hide the remnants of his laugh, “I’m glad you like it considering it was from me,” He stared at Dan’s surprised face for a few seconds before he spoke again. “Oh, how rude of me. I’m Phil.” He stretched his hand for Dan to shake.

Dan gave it a confused look before finally deciding to shake Phil’s hand. “I’m Dan.”

“Can I sit?” Phil said pointing at the other side of the booth.

Dan blinked a few times trying to process the fact that Phil would want to sit with him. After a few seconds he nodded, not feeling sure about his ability to speak. Phil smiled again and sat down.

“Soooo, what are you reading?” Phil asked.

Dan looked down at his book and blushed for what felt like the millionth time that day. “I- it’s nothing, just a book I found.”

Phil leaned his head to the side, studying Dan’s face. “Can I see it? Only if you don’t mind, of course!”

Dan grabbed the book and handed it to Phil, looking out the window not wanting to see his reaction to the fact that he was reading a romance novel.

“Fifteen…” Phil whispered as he looked at the cover.

All that could be heard was the flipping of pages for a few seconds, but Dan just continued to stare out the window. He felt as if Phil kept flipping through the pages for hours even if he had only had the book for less than a minute. He could not help but feel as if Phil would just scoff at him and walk away when he realized just what it was that Dan was reading. Phil spoke seconds before Dan spiraled into all the thoughts racing around his head.

“I read this a few months ago,” Phil said finally, “I liked it.”

Dan turned to look back at Phil when he said that. “You did?” Dan said barely above a whisper.

Phil smiled brightly, “Yes, yes I did, Dan.”

Dan was more than a little surprised that Phil did not judge him for his book choice as many other people would. He was even more surprised that Phil would have read the same book.

“What did you think of it?”

“The way that Jane feels makes me feel sympathetic towards her but I must admit, reading about a girl falling in love with guy is getting a little boring for me. I would prefer a story about two guys falling in love instead, wouldn’t you?” Phil looked at Dan to see his reaction to the statement.

Dan’s eyes widened, “I- I think I would prefer that as well.”

Phil seemed to want to say something else when Lou interrupted.

She placed a shake in front of Phil, “Here’s your shake! Sorry it took so long.” She smiled. “Would either of you like anything else? Dan? Anything?”

Dan shook his head and gave her a look trying to convey the fact that she interrupted.

She seemed to have gotten the hint because she nodded and said, “Call me if you need me then!” and she turned around but not before mouthing, “He’s cute,” to Dan.

“What were we talking about?” Dan asked.

“Never mind that!” Phil took a second before he spoke again. “So, how does Lou know you?”

“Oh, I have been coming here nearly every day for a few months.” Dan said shyly. It made him feel like it would show that he did not have any other things to do, which although not completely untrue, he did not want that to be known.

“Well, I understand why you would, I quite like it. It would be a great place for a date.”

“I- I wouldn’t know.” Dan mumbled, “I’ve never been here with anyone else.”

“This could be a date if you wanted it to be.” Phil said confidently, blushing soon after he said it.

Dan thought that perhaps Phil didn’t mean to say that. Even if he hadn’t meant it, Dan could not help but stare at Phil with wide eyes. He opened his mouth to respond but the words caught up in his throat. Even if he had said something, he wasn’t sure what the answer would’ve been.

“Sorry, I’m sorry if I was too forward, I’ll go!” Phil looked down and began to scoot out of the booth to leave.

At Phil’s words, Dan finally found the courage to speak up. “No, wait! I was just caught off guard.” Dan looked up at Phil, “It can be if you want, a date I mean. It can be a date. I think I would like that.”

“Yeah?” Phil asked sounding very doubtful, as if Dan would reject him.

“Yeah.”

The smile that spread across Phil’s face could light up the entire world. His eyes shone as if Dan had just made him the happiest person to ever exist. Dan couldn’t help but smile back.

He found it fitting that the song playing from the jukebox had the perfect lyrics for that moment. Just to see him smile makes my life worthwhile. Dan really did think that Phil’s smile could be something that would make anything worthwhile.

So Phil sat back down and they continued talking, ignoring all the previous awkward moments. Dan felt as if he was in a dream. He could not believe how easy it was to speak to Phil. It felt like time stopped all around them as the conversation flowed.

Dan learnt that Phil had moved here to find a place where he felt more comfortable. He said he had only been there for one week which is the reason why Dan had never met him before. He found out that he was one year older than Dan.

They also realized that they both wanted to travel all around the world. Dan and Phil both wanted to visit Japan at some point. Dan found out that Phil was obsessed with anything sweet. They found that they both preferred the chocolate malt-shakes over any other flavor. They found out so many useless facts about each other, but each of them treasured them as if they were a deep secret shared from trust.

There was also one other thing that they learned: they could not wait to find out more about each other.

At some point between all the talking, Dan tried to take a drink of his shake just to make a loud slurping noise. He looked down to notice that his glass was empty.

“Would you like another one?” Phil offered.

“Oh no, I couldn’t possibly finish another one.”

“We could share one.”

“Oh, I mean if you would like to, we could.”

Phil smiled and called Lou over. Phil ordered another shake and Dan could not help but notice the surprised look that Lou made when she realized they were sharing. It was quite amusing for Dan to know that Lou would be so surprised over it.

When Lou brought over the shake and he saw the two straws he realized how much that reminded him of a romantic movie. And while he knew they were being far too cliché, Dan could not help but feel the moment was perfect.

So when they both went to take a drink, he didn’t move back and instead locked eyes with Phil. He got lost in them. The sweet taste of chocolate just made everything better. And if Dan would have stopped looking into Phil’s eyes, he could have found Lou staring at them with a wide grin and a happy glint in her eyes.

They tuned out everything around them, except the music and each other. So they didn’t even notice the diner beginning to empty as the remaining customers left.

The only thing that brought them out of their trance like focus on each other was Lou talking to Dan.

“Dan, sweetie, as much as I like you, we can’t keep the diner open for much longer. You’ll be able to see each other tomorrow.”

“I- it’s closing time already? I didn’t realize that it was so late already.”

“Of course you didn’t.” She shook her head and walked away to clean the counter.

“So, I guess we should head out?”

“Guess so,” Dan said in a defeated tone.

Dan went to take out his wallet when Phil stopped him and offered to pay. The look in Phil’s eyes told him that he would be disappointed if Dan refused to let him do that. So, he did.

They grabbed their things and headed out. Dan called out a goodbye to Lou as he walked out of the door.

“So, I had a good time.”

“I’m really happy about that, so did I!” Phil leaned his head to the side and seemed to question something.

Before Phil could say anything, Dan took a step forward and kissed Phil. He kept his eyes closed hoping that Phil wouldn’t pull away. Dan relaxed when Phil kissed him back. The warm feeling of Phil’s lips combined with the sweet taste of chocolate shake made it the most perfect kiss.

When he pulled back and opened his eyes, he saw as Phil stood there, with his eyes still closed, a faint smile on his lips and the red glow from the sign above highlighting his features. It made Dan hold his breath for a second too long.

When Phil finally opened his eyes, he smiled and asked if he could see Dan again.

“Of course you can! You know where to find me,” Dan looked up, gesturing to the neon sign.

He got up on the bike and was about to go when Phil told him to wait. Before he could turn to ask what happened, Phil was there and kissed him once again. When they pulled apart, they kept their foreheads together and Dan could feel as Phil whispered, “See you soon, Dan.”

“See you, Phil.”

At that, the sign above turned off and Dan rode off. The wind hit him as he went faster and he just closed his eyes and rejoiced in the amazing day that he had. He made a turn and arrived home.

That night he dreamed about soft lips, chocolate and blue skies.

#phanfic #phanfiction #phan

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tysonrunningfox · 5 years

Text

Ripped: Part 8

I’m really excited about this chapter....here.

AO3

It takes a week to re-open the alley behind the Ripped Tavern. Hiccup technically could have gone back to an old tour route that starts out front and goes by Astrid’s apartment as its first stop, but he likes the other script better and if he went in that order, he’s not sure how he’d end it. He saw Heather a few times, the feather in her hat visible above the larger than normal crowd collected around her just outside the caution tape at the mouth of the alley. So much for losing a few tours in the face of an actual murder.

He had time, if not money, to actually dry clean his hat and coat though and thanks to Snotlout’s unusual generosity, he picks them up the day before he’s set to restart his own tours. He hasn’t heard anything from Detective Eretson aside from a single phone call asking for Gobber’s information and he feels reasonably safe avoiding suspicion on his old route. If anything it’d be more suspicious to stop at this point, probably.

“Is the goat smell dead?” Snotlout greets when he gets home, taking the plastic wrapped coat from him and pressing his nose up against the collar.

“Have you considered that my coat smelled because it was next to your uniform coat after you took the petting zoo call?”

“No, and I won’t.” He hands it back, “it smells fine now, by the way.”

“And they got the toothpaste out of my hat,” Hiccup demonstrates, gesturing at the clean black felt like it’s the reward on a niche game show.

“It looks…no, it looks dorkier now.”

“I’ll admit the stain had a certain charm,” he hangs it on the hat rack by the door and sits down in his dad’s chair.

A certain charm bestowed upon it by Astrid when she flung her toothbrush at him and started something. Or maybe he started something when he shined a laser pointer through her window, those are semantics, but something feels started. He was addled from the long night when he walked her home from the tavern and he thinks he hid it well, but that means the details came back to him slowly over the next few days.

The suspicious way she looked at him when he avoided telling her the whole story all at once. The way she took his hand when she saw he was upset. The look she gave Heather when they were interrupted. Her expression when he showed her his leg, no scrap of pity hidden in the bright curious spark in her eyes, like she was almost glad to have something else to get to investigate.

She keeps him focused in a way he’s never liked until now.

“I’m sure Astrid will whack you with another toothbrush,” Snotlout cuts off his train of thought with a disparaging sigh, “your eyes are glazing over, dude, just text her. I swear, if you haven’t scared her off with your weirdness by now I don’t think it’s possible.”

“Yeah, she doesn’t scare easy,” he shakes his head. The only time he’s seen her scared was when they happened to overhear someone’s last scream, a memory that still sends a sick chill down Hiccup’s spine, and it’s made worse by Snotlout’s easy teasing. He and Snotlout don’t really have secrets, especially legally implicating secrets, but if Hiccup brought it up now it would be obvious that he’s been hiding it, which he has.

He knows Snotlout is stupid and stubborn enough to protect him no matter what, and it’s better for both of them if he looks as innocent as possible.

“So just text her,” Snotlout shrugs, “send her a Venice Gelato fact or something.”

“I know you know his name is Viggo Grimborn.”

“I thought no one knew what his name was because no one ever figured the murders out,” he throws a pen cap at Hiccup’s face and it bounces off his forehead, “see? I pay attention.”

“For the record, I have been texting her.” Hiccup scrolls through his phone, “she told me that the cops talked to her and warned her about some cameras and I said thank you.”

“That doesn’t count.”

“Sure it does, it means she’s glad I’m not in jail and she’s telling me what to avoid to keep it that way.” He hasn’t told Snotlout that he’s waiting for an invitation to the archives for an entirely different reason, namely, the amount of mocking he’d have to endure for being excited about being invited to a room full of musty old newspapers. It’s the kind of thing to mention after it goes well, especially ever since the first few failed dates he got from tours became Snotlout’s favorite ‘embarrass Hiccup’ stories. “Fine, I’ll text her.”

Hiccup (6:02pm): hey

Astrid (6:05pm): still not in jail, I see

That’s a kind of a start. Hiccup can work with that, maybe. He turns sideways in his dad’s chair, legs over the arm of it to better ignore Snotlout crunching his cereal while watching the evening news.

Hiccup (6:06pm): living in constant fear but when have I ever let that stop me from living my life lol

Astrid (6:06pm): shit, what did you hear? Are you in trouble? Astrid (6:07pm): I was there

Hiccup (6:08pm): are you offering to be my alibi?

He regrets it as soon as he sends it because alibi sounds like a term of endearment.

Hiccup (6:08pm): not that I need one since I’m not guilty as you know

Astrid (6:09pm): doesn’t the ‘as you know’ kind of automatically make me your alibi?

Hiccup (6:10pm): eh Hiccup (6:10pm): only if you want it to, I could ask Viggo

Astrid (6:11pm): so there are no developments in the case?

Hiccup (6:11pm): not that I’m aware of

Astrid (6:13pm): maybe they just aren’t telling you Astrid (6:13pm): which is good news

Hiccup glances at Snotlout, who’s wiping cereal milk off of his chin with his sleeve, before answering.

Hiccup (6:14pm): I haven’t heard anything about me going to jail

Astrid (6:15pm): I’m off work at 5 tomorrow but I could stay late and show you the Al, I. picture

She punctuates her interpretation of the message precisely and Hiccup smiles to himself. He does love that she has a theory, he loves that she isn’t listening to what anyone says and instead is finding her own conclusion, most of all because that conclusion seems to include him.

Her theory is wrong, for the record, because the four main Grimborn murders line up very precisely, but there’s no reason to fight her argument, especially the way her eyes light up when she’s making it.

Hiccup (6:15pm): sure, sounds good

00000

Hiccup hasn’t really been to the archives since Snotlout got his full access at the police station. It’s not that he felt he’d gotten through everything that the archives had to offer, it was more a combination of the fact that he and Heather weren’t really talking anymore and the fact that the police station had so many things he’d never seen. When he shows up a little after five though and the blonde guy at the front desk gives him a look overflowing with withering recognition, he remembers the other reason he prefers researching elsewhere.

At the police station, he’s always the only person in the file room. At the archives though, it’s the view of the establishment that he is the wrong kind of obsessive academic.

“Hi, I’m looking for Astrid,” he pauses at the desk to shake the drizzle off of his hat and adjust his bag over his shoulder.

“She told me,” the guy nods curtly and goes back to the blueprint on his desk. It looks like some kind of manufacturing facility, the machinery drawn out carefully with painstakingly thin lines of black ink.

“Is that the warehouse that used to be over on fifth?”

“It has nothing to do with Viggo Grimborn,” he doesn’t need to look up with his tone making his opinion so obvious.

“I know that,” Hiccup shoves the hand not holding his hat in his pocket, “it was just a pretty building.”

“It was a sweatshop.”

“And the strip mall they put in to replace it isn’t?” He laughs, “there’s like two Starbucks in it and a seasonal Halloween store.”

“Sorry, Fishlegs,” Astrid rushes out of the back, stopping at the second desk to check something off of a to do list, undone hair falling over her shoulder. It’s longer than Hiccup thought it was, longer and obviously in the way in a way that suits her. Of course, she’d be constantly engaging in a battle with something growing out of her head. “I know I said I wouldn’t make you talk Grimborn.”

“It gets us all eventually,” Fishlegs looks up at her, irritated like a fond older brother roped into playing tea party. He turns to Hiccup then, eyes drifting from his coat to his hat, lip curling slightly under his respectably waxed moustache. “But just because I feel like I have to say it, you do know that we have all kinds of historical information. Not just information pertaining to six months in the early eighteen eighties, right?”

“Of course I do, you have all the information on the nineteen fifty-two Grimborn copycat killer, right?” Hiccup grins, placing his hat back on his head, “I’ll be sure to have a look at that.”

“I remember you,” Fishlegs narrows his eyes, “you’re the guy who broke the photocopier trying to shove a comic book in it.”

“That was three years ago,” he laughs, “and I fixed it. Which is really ridiculous, because Berk University is still a public institution the last time I checked, so really my tax payer dollars should have fixed it.”

“You don’t pay taxes,” Astrid rolls her eyes, efficiently grabbing Hiccup’s elbow and pulling him towards an aisle made of industrial bookshelves lined two thick with old, yellowed newspapers.

“And he doesn’t even pay taxes,” Fishlegs mutters under his breath before the density of the historic walls blots him out.

“You know, even if I work tax free, I still pay taxes,” Hiccup says, wishing his messenger bag were on the other side instead of bumping into her hip every couple steps and risking alerting her to the fact that she’s still holding onto his elbow. “Property tax. Sales tax, I do buy things, when I have money.”

“I didn’t realize online sellers properly taxed Grimborn paraphernalia,” she snorts, letting go if his arm when she turns a corner into a smaller aisle, this one interrupted by a low wooden table, covered in a few spread out papers. The table is pushed up against a shelf full of stacked volumes of almanacs and encyclopedias from the early eighteen hundreds, as well as manila folders full of carefully catalogued scraps of paper.

“They don’t, but I eat. Occasionally.”

“Do you?” She teases, elbowing him in the side as she flips through a Berk Enquirer with careful fingers.

“Again, when I have money.” He sets his bag down and looks over her shoulder, stepping a little too close when he notices a picture of Bog street that he hasn’t seen before. She smells like old book dust and something floral and he clears his throat.

“Sorry, I should have just left it on the picture, I got the paper out last minute.”

“No, it’s fine, I love skimming stories about…” it takes a minute to focus on any thing on the page with her so close and he steps to the side and leans against the table instead, “the alien connection to Berk’s city planning. That’s some hard-hitting journalism right there.”

“You know, almost everything I’ve found has been in the Enquirer,” she pauses, pointing out a bible sales ad in the corner and raising an eyebrow. “And considering you’re here to see what I found, despite your obvious blood feud with Fishlegs, maybe you shouldn’t disrespect it.”

“Blood feud?”

“I’ve never seen him be that rude to anyone, you knew his blueprint and he still lectured you.” She laughs and turns one more page, nodding to herself, “here we go. One Police Constable Brown was kind enough to donate his daily paper, and on this day he made a note of the time when he checked out the courtyard at 324 Harbor Road.”

Hiccup freezes, eyes widening as he takes in the small, grainy picture. He remembers the way he felt on his first Grimborn tour, standing outside that apartment building and feeling connected to the city for the first time since his dad died. Like he was somewhere that had lived through tragedy before, somewhere that had recovered.

Astrid steps back to give him space and he picks up the paper, holding it from either side like a police officer did a hundred years ago. Like his dad used to hold the paper at breakfast, except his dad wasn’t usually reading an article insinuating that a dragon was the cause of the barn fire the week before.

“I can’t believe this exists.”

“What? The punctuation?” She’s smiling when he tears his eyes away from the paper, not smug so much as rightfully triumphant. “Because it definitely does.”

“How did you—I never would have thought to check the Enquirer.” He shakes his head at the picture, mouthing the caption and sighing. “Everything surrounding this picture is crap, but it’s…genuine.”

“I would have thought it’d have your name all over it then,” she says too quiet, like she thinks she can keep it a secret from the books around them, absorbing and storing everything over centuries.

“What?”

“You know, Admiral Haddock,” she tucks her hair behind her ear, either embarrassed or annoyed to have to explain herself. Maybe both. “It’s complete bullshit, but it’s your favorite theory.”

“Well, yeah, how could it not be?” He doesn’t think anyone else could tear his eyes away from this paper right now, but Astrid is inexplicably blushing as she tucks her hair behind her ear. “Do you have one yet?”

“I don’t share a name with an implausible famous serial killer suspect, no.”

“No, do you have a favorite theory yet?” He can’t put the paper down but he can’t look away from Astrid either. He’s stuck holding onto a scrap of history he wouldn’t have without her, but it feels more like a springboard to somewhere else.

“Like do I have an opinion about who Viggo Grimborn is?” She cocks her head, arms crossed, stance so rigid it’s active. Alive. Pulsing with things she might tell him if he just shuts up for a second.

He shrugs. She bites her lip and exhales.

“No, I mean, none of them are a favorite. All of them are full of holes,” she flips through a notebook that’s also on the table, neat handwriting flying past, “it’s never going to be answered.”

“I know that, but I don’t know, you worked so hard—“

“The Enquirer,” she cuts him off, but she’s smart enough to not take the paper from his hands, instead picking up another issue on the table and showing a larger bible ad, dated before the second murder, and Hiccup’s chest burns. “It’s been completely ignored because it was a little weird or loud or ridiculous—“

“I know the feeling,” Hiccup watches her because he doesn’t have or want a choice.

“It’s full of witness accounts,” she finds a page and her face lights up, determined and absolutely ready to fight with him, “like here, Reginald Smith of 32 Downer Lane saw lights on the rooftops on the night of Catherine Whittaker’s murder, but it’s reported as an alien appearance—“

“Because he said it was an alien spacecraft,” Hiccup hates himself for interrupting but Astrid’s expression only gets more rigid. More stern.

She doesn’t want his validation she wants to convince him, to present the facts that make him come around to her idea all on his own.

“Yes, but it was the late eighteen hundreds, he was poor and drunk and uneducated. He saw something he couldn’t understand and read the cheaper newspaper and extrapolated with what he could. By cutting out the sources that don’t make the best soundbites, the entire case was…bungled. Honestly, if the detectives had talked to anyone other than respectable witnesses, maybe you wouldn’t be so obsessed with it today.“

“If you’re going to educate me like this, I think you need the hat,” he laughs, because he doesn’t know what else to do. He’s never been so scared he’d damage an artifact as his hands start shaking and a bead of sweat blooms on his brow.

“Maybe I do,” she sets her own newspaper down and takes his hat, setting it on her head. It’s too big, again, falling slightly crooked to the right, but that doesn’t change how bright the black wool makes her eyes look. “The investigation was completely swayed by the same class distinction as the crimes, if you dig through the Enquirer for what? An hour? Ten minutes? You’ll find multiple reports of people seeing lights on rooftops or mythical creatures in the woods that almost perfectly align with some drunk idea of already named suspects. Are you saying you’ve never read a description of Drago Bludvist and thought sasquatch?” She laughs, shrill and convincing, her face on fire. “Because I have a description somewhere here…”

She starts to flick through the spare few papers she has laid out on the table, her tongue barely peeking out of the corner of her mouth, and Hiccup doesn’t know he’s moving until he is. He doesn’t decide to let go of one side of the paper he’s holding, he doesn’t decide to touch her jaw, his fingers curling gently around her chin as she freezes, eyes wide.

He does choose to kiss her though, the brim of his own top hat against his forehead.

She exhales softly, a shaky hand landing against his arm as she responds, as slowly and enthusiastically as she does to everything. Her lips move like she hasn’t forgot her determination and Hiccup slides out, his hand to her waist and pulls her close, the crinkle of newspaper filling the silent hallway.

“Wait,” she pushes him away, gentle like she’s scared of offending him even though she’s obviously already offended, “the paper—“

“Sorry.”

“No, it’s old, this is a hundred years old,” she pulls back far enough to set the paper he’s been holding in a single clenched fist into a careful layer.

Then she smooths over it with a gentle palm, biting her lower, slightly swollen lip. It’s careful document care, her hands worrying the paper with quick, sure motions. His tophat falls down over her forehead and she adjusts it, the brim of it setting heavy on her ear and making it stick out further. He doesn’t think his heart has ever pounded this hard in his life.

She stands up and her wide eyes dart to his lips. He surges forward before he can think twice, one hand on her waist and the other on the back of her head as he pushes her against the bookcase, his lips meeting hers somewhere along the way. He swallows her grunt that verges on a moan, fingers curling in her sweatshirt as her arms wrap around his neck. She holds him close, like she’s scared he’ll try and get away and he kisses her like he can convey that’s the last thing on his mind.

She’s warm and soft, all long lean lines arching against him as he slides his hand to her hip, her cold fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck. There’s a thud, but he can’t tell if it’s his heart or something else and he ignores it, kissing along her jaw and trying to remember how to breathe. She grabs his chin and pulls his mouth back to hers.

Another thud.

Breathing isn’t important anyway, why was he so hung up on it in the first place?

She hooks her heel behind his knee and he loses balance slightly, catching himself on the metal edge of the bookshelf. The clang can’t compete with Astrid’s hand fisted in the front of his coat though and his hand dips under her sweatshirt to feel the smooth skin of her lower back.

“Come on, guys!” Someone yells and Astrid pulls back with a surprised gasp, tophat deeply crooked, lips swollen and chin red from stubble.

“Shit, sorry Fishlegs,” she pushes him off, gently, tugging her sweatshirt down and wiping her mouth on the back of her hand. Fishlegs is at the end of the aisle with his arms crossed, tapping his foot like a dad two minutes after curfew and Hiccup can’t hold in the laugh that bubbles in his chest.

“Yeah, sorry Fishlegs.”

“You took out half the Britannicas,” he nods at the dozen or so encyclopedias on the floor, explaining the thuds.

“I’ll clean it up, sorry,” Astrid tries to fix her hair but blushes impossibly deeper when she brushes the brim of the hat still on her head.

“It was a pristine collection—”

“I said I’ll fix it.”

“If any corners are blunted—”

“Fishlegs!” She snaps, glancing at Hiccup out of the corner of her eye, “can you give us a second? Please?” The last word is gritted through her teeth, politely threatening.

“This is what I get for helping with Grimborn research,” he grumbles under his breath as he walks away, “it took me years to get that eighteen eighty seven and it ends up on the floor…”

“So, umm—” Hiccup starts but Astrid doesn’t seem to be listening, instead picking up books and dedicatedly checking their corners.

“Help me get these onto the table at least, I’m going to be here an hour cleaning this up.”

“Sure,” he picks up too and looks over at her, that adorable tongue sticking out again as she squints at a publication page and smooths it carefully in a way that makes his heart rate tick up again. “Are they ok?”

“Yeah, they’re fine, Fishlegs is just being, well, Fishlegs.” She sets the book down and pauses, looking at him carefully, cheeks still stained bright red, “so, umm, what are you doing after this?”

“What am I doing after this?” The question doesn’t quite register. It’s not a question she should be asking him after he came to her job and insulted her research and made her wear a stupid, but somehow-incredibly-attractive-on-her hat before attacking her against a bookcase. He swallows hard.

“In case you wanted to talk about…you know,” she waves at the bookcase and bites her lip, as hesitantly open as she was definitively closed on the first tour she took with him.

Fuck. His tour.

“I have a tour,” he checks the time, “I have a tour in…about as much time as it takes to get there if I run, I’ve got to go.”

“Right, your tour, sorry—”

“No, no, no. Don’t apologize,” he runs a frantic hand through his hair, “and I really hate to do this. Like, I don’t think you understand how much I hate to do this, but…I need this back.” He plucks his hat carefully off of her head. “I’ve got to go, I—”

“Go, I’ll talk to you later,” she waves him off, making a vain effort to fix her staticky hair. A lock of her bangs is sticking out to the side and he wants to smooth it down but if he touched her right now, he wouldn’t stop.

And that’s bad because he’d miss his tour. And he’s out of money. Even if Astrid is looking at him, he still has to care about money, right?

“Ok, yeah, later.”

00000

It’s really hard to give a tour when every other word in his head is ‘Astrid’. Viggo Astrid Grimborn Astrid was Astrid a really Astrid bad Astrid guy. It’s harder to give a tour when questions stall him for twenty minutes at the fourth murder site, questions he doesn’t want to answer. Questions about a recent murder that he doesn’t want to think about.

“I heard from the bartender inside that the body was positioned exactly like Mary Johnson,” a man with coke bottle glasses that make him look a little too fascinated with everything asks eagerly, staring at the storm drain and reminding Hiccup what he saw. “Down to the placement of the intestines—”

“I don’t know anything about that,” he lies, “it’s an ongoing murder case, I’m here to do a tour about Viggo Grimborn if anyone wants to listen to that.”

“But surely you must be interested in the resemblance—”

“I’m not. Or even if I was, it’s an ongoing murder case, I’m not going to stand here in an alley I tour nightly and talk about it.” He starts walking and hopes the larger than usual group will follow. They did already pay, but that’s not why he does this, why he wants to do it. The copy of the ‘All Safe’ message in his bag burns to be shown around and his brain flicks back to Astrid, Astrid, Astrid. Astrid. “I’ve got reasons to stay out of custody for looking accidentally guilty.”

“I heard they arrested someone when they found the body,” someone murmurs and glasses speaks up.

“Do you know anything about that?”

“No, I don’t. I know about Victorian slums and Viggo Grimborn and the fact that the local reverend believed that decreasing the cost of bibles would infuse the community with renewed Christianity and righteousness and that would fix the prostitution problem,” he gestures at the church as they walk past, “instead of, you know, feeding people.”

“I just don’t think you understand the statistical improbability of identical intestine placement of two disemboweled corpses found at the exact same spot over a hundred years apart—”

“I also took high school statistics,” Hiccup sighs, pausing to face the group, “and like half a college statistics course, but that’s not—let’s get one thing straight. The women who died a hundred years ago and the woman who died last week aren’t corpses, or they are, but—they were people with feelings and lives and yes, the circumstances of their death is morbidly fascinating, but does that mean we ignore the circumstances of their life?”

It’s silent for a second and someone in the back raises their hand.

“Yeah, go ahead, despite the lecture this isn’t a class.”

“Do you think it’s a copycat killer?” They ask and Hiccup sighs heavily.

“Onto site one.”

#ripped #hiccstrid #modern au #httyd fic #hiccstrid fic #serial killer tour guide au

51 notes · View notes

actuallylorelaigilmore · 5 years

Text

@beturass requested the prompt “things you said that made me feel real” -- thanks for your patience with this one, I hope you like it :)

[major thanks goes out to @motherfuckingjonesy for helping me get this posted sooner!]

Josh x Donna, The West Wing. Also on AO3.

“I couldn’t do this without you.”

She isn’t sure what to do when faced with an ancient-looking book about skiing instead of any of the Christmas gifts she actually asked for, but luckily Donna’s parents raised her with classic Midwestern manners, so she recovers quickly and offers him a polite, if baffled, smile.

He tells her there’s an inscription, which at least gives her a reason to crack the book’s weathered spine. As soon as she starts reading, she realizes the inscription is the real gift. Josh isn’t a writer like Sam or Toby, but he always says what he means, and she’s in the middle of her workday trying not to tear up.

She needed this job; not just to pay bills and get out of a college town that was drowning in bittersweet memories, but for herself. Her relationship turned out to be a tragedy, she’d loved her classes but never managed to find a major that really fit, and now she was on her own without even a degree to show for it. She had to be good at something.

And it turned out she was really good at this, the White House--working for Josh in particular. They clicked right away, no matter how much he whined about getting his own coffee or insisted on messing up her careful organization of his desk. She’s an excellent assistant to the Deputy COS.

But knowing that doesn’t quiet the doubts, the voice in her head that likes to remind her where she came from and how unqualified she is to be here. In the Bartlet Administration she’s surrounded by the smartest people she has ever met...and she’s picking up their lunch orders and answering the phone.

One sentence in the middle of Josh’s scrawled handwriting jumps out at her and nestles itself deep in her heart. “I couldn’t do this without you,” it says, before thanking her for all her hard work this year.

As silly as it might be, the idea that Leo’s right hand man needs her makes her want to cry. All she wanted was to find her place, and make a difference, and now here she is. Getting a gift like this from him.

Josh wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true, she thinks, hugging him and not caring what it looks like. His face is pressed into her shoulder, breathing her in, and Donna has to crack a joke to break the moment.

Anything to cover up how much she doesn’t want to let go.

****

“Stay with me.”

Josh is in and out of consciousness in his hospital bed, voice weak but smile genuine whenever he sees her.

Of course Donna has work she should be doing, she knows that things are busier than ever since the shooting, and with Josh out of commission she feels a greater responsibility to keep his office running smoothly--but she’s still by his side more than anyone else, juggling administrative duties with cafeteria runs that he doesn’t even appreciate.

Nobody says anything about her using the hospital as a second office, though Margaret watches her carefully and Carol shoots her sympathetic glances whenever she leaves the White House. Her friends know her well enough not to worry out loud; it would just make it harder on so many levels.

He almost died.

She still sees him through that observation window when she closes her eyes, blood-covered and surrounded by surgical staff. The nightmares are worse, a million variations where he dies on the table, or Toby never finds him and he dies trying to hold himself together in Rosslyn, or he falls into a coma and never wakes up again.

But warring with the anxiety Donna feels over almost losing him is a not-insignificant amount of guilt over feeling as anxious as she does. It’s disproportionate to the nature of their relationship, and makes as little sense as her certainty that the more time she spends with him, the safer he’ll be.

If she talked to somebody about it, she knows they would point out the obvious: she wasn’t there, when the bullet found Josh. She wasn’t with him, he got hurt, therefore being with him might mean he won’t get hurt. It’s childish logic but she’s clinging to it anyway. And she’s telling no one, because that would mean admitting how much she cares and he’s her boss and she knows the way they would look at her then, how they would act.

It’s bad enough he almost died alone. She refuses to lose him for any other reason.

In the antiseptic quiet of his new room, Josh reaches for her on the first day they’ve moved him out of the ICU. Donna’s tidying the stack of forms she brought with her and packing them up--she jumps a little when he grips her wrist.

"You’re awake.”

“Mm. You’re leaving? You just got here.”

It’s been three hours, she stops herself from pointing out. His eyes are half-shut against the medication they’re using to fight the pain, and she doesn’t have the heart to correct him.

“I have to get these back to the office,” she says instead.

Josh blinks against the fatigue. “Margaret’s sending someone later,” he remembers out loud. “Leo needs...something. Don’t remember what. You could pass them back then.”

It would be too easy to fall into a rhythm of never leaving, Donna thinks. Just phone calls to the West Wing and messenger service and a laptop. That’s not what her job is supposed to be.

His fingers flex against her skin, getting her attention. “It’ll all be there tomorrow,” he says quietly.

Josh is right about that part. She can count on the work to still be there tomorrow.

It’s a miracle that he’s still here today.

Donna nods to herself, and smiles at him, disentangling her arm from his grasp. “All right,” she says, setting her bag back down. “Want to watch TV? Or I can read you the paper.”

“My head hurts,” he admits, laying back against the pillow. “I don’t care what we do. Just...please. Stay with me.”

She stays late and falls asleep at an awkward angle in the chair next to him, an hour after he does. The nurses have to kick her out in the morning.

****

“It’s going to be okay.”

When Josh opens his door and finds Donna standing there, crutches in hand, he blinks at her blankly for several seconds before he finds any words. His hair is sticking up a little; she’s pretty sure he fell asleep on his couch again.

“Donna?”

“Hi.”

“What...” He rubs his eyes. “You know it’s 1 o’clock in the morning, right?”

If she didn’t, his shorts and thin white tank top would have tipped her off. She lifts a shoulder. “Can I come in?”

“Sure.” Brow furrowed, Josh steps back. She brushes past him on her way to his kitchen and he trails after. “Everything okay?”

“What have you got to drink in here?” Donna’s already opening the fridge while she asks. She surveys the contents critically, ignoring his question.

“Not much. You came to raid my beer?”

“I was hoping for something stronger.” With a sigh, she grabs a bottle anyway and takes it to his living room, sinking onto the couch before she opens it.

“You know, if you’re in the mood for a drink, they have these places called bars...”

“The last place I want to be is a bar right now,” Donna replies.

“But you wanted to be here in my apartment at 1 a.m.?”

“Josh, you know that thing you do where you get drunk and show up at my place in the middle of the night and sleep it off?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, you owe me one.”

He moves her crutches out of the way and joins her on the couch, trying to decipher her tone. “I’m not saying I mind. You just don’t do this often. Or ever. In the last six years.”

Donna sips her beer and doesn’t respond, watching as Josh huffs out a breath and drags a hand through his hair.

“Talk to me. What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” She swallows hard. “Everything.”

“Is your physical therapist giving you a hard time? Because you know I’m ready to--”

“To what? Snark him to death?”

Her words come out sharp, and she knows she doesn’t sound like herself, but she can’t take them back. That’s been happening more and more lately, Donna thinks as Josh stares. Blurting out the words on the tip of her tongue, kicking herself for not being able to hold them back, not knowing how to apologize for things she was thinking--whether they’re appropriate or not.

She’s just so tired.

“It’s not physical therapy,” she admits, staring at the bottle in her hand instead of at him. “It’s all of it. The explosion, the hospital, the nightmares. Everybody who means well and checks in seven times a day about how I’m feeling. It’s too much.”

Donna’s voice cracks, and Josh leans over to grab her beer. He takes a drink before setting it aside; the casual familiarity in that makes her smile a little.

She’s waiting for him to make a joke to lighten the mood. He’s always been good at that. Josh is much better at avoiding heavy feelings than dealing with them, a skill she envies lately since she can’t stop feeling crushed by the weight of hers.

It’s surprising when he turns toward her instead, his dark eyes serious as he reaches for her hand and holds it. “You came to the right place.”

She wasn’t actually looking for sympathy when she found herself heading his way, Donna thinks. A comfortable place to get numb, where even if she can’t sleep--and lately she’s barely sleeping at all--at least she won’t be alone. Faced with his sincerity, she feels the tears come against her will.

Josh pulls her against his chest as soon as they start falling, shifts so that her ear is resting right above his heart. “I was where you are, remember?” He whispers against her cheek. “I’ve still got the scars.”

It’s only been four years, of course she remembers. She can still taste the fear that soured the back of her throat when Toby told her. The memory makes her cry harder, all of it mingling together into gulping sobs with Josh’s arms keeping her close.

Donna would be embarrassed if she had any energy to spare...she shouldn’t be here like this, with him. Especially with him.

But he’s still holding her, grounding her in the moment, and he doesn’t let go.

“It’s going to be okay,” Josh murmurs, over and over until the tears stop. And as hard as it is to believe right then, she tries.

Because he’s right, he has been where she is.

He’s the only one who really has.

And knowing that Josh understands what she can’t find the words for, Donna feels safe for the first time since she woke up in Germany.

#josh x donna #josh x donna fic #tww #tww fic #tww fanfic #the west wing #the west wing fic #my fic #beturass

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hattywatch · 6 years

Text

Healthy Competition - Jimmy Vesey

Jimmy Vesey 28. “I can’t believe you just did that.” Requested by Anon

Author’s Note: This is likely going to have a part 2. Good selection, anon. You stared across the bar, but cool-ly. Would someone know you were staring? Definitely not. Just kidding, everyone knew because you were spastically trying to catch your friend's eye and stop her from completing whatever ridiculous act she was trying to pull off.

“He's so fucking ca-yoooote,” he happened to look up and catch your eyes and give a little wave, so you gave a half smile before looking down awkwardly. Reaching across the table and grabbing another of your friend’s nachos, flipping it over to shake the jalepeño off, you thought over your cowardice. It was pub-quiz night, and you two were planning on killing it for the third week in a row. Team “Honor Roll with Butter” consisted of just the two of you and it was your favorite part of the week. There was only one team that was ever any competition. Four guys who drank too much beer and were the reigning champs- before you and your friend started your dynasty, anyway.

You had your eye on him for a few weeks now. He always smiled at you when you walked in and always said hi when you found yourself next to him while waiting for the bartender. Sure, you wanted to progress the conversation, but you're awkward (please see aforementioned wave encounter) and you didn't want to sound like you were trying too hard, and if he really wanted to, nothing was stopping him from coming by your table after you eviscerated his team in pub-quiz. So, you just smiled and assumed he probably wasn't interested like that, just making polite eye contact since you’re both always here week after week. Gazing at him over a plate of nachos was fine, no need to embarrass yourself further.

But anyway, back to the matter at hand. Your team of two was just crowned champs, again- thank you very much, and your beloved partner has since taken it upon herself to celebrate by trying to embarrass the life out of you. She’s incredibly difficult to corral after a few drinks, so your protests fell on deaf ears as she checked her hair in her phone’s front facing camera. She promised noble intentions of “getting you some intellectual intercourse” followed by a crass wink, walking over to fraternize with the enemy, Team “Periodic Table Dancers” (Honestly, points for the team name).

In all fairness, it wasn’t an entirely selfless endeavor. She had been trying to make eyes with another of the “Periodic Table Dancers” since week one, she just didn’t want to leave you sitting alone when she went to flirt. Her sympathy had worn thinner with each drink it seems, especially since the seat next to the tall, dark, and chiseled was vacant. So as you frantically tried to catch her eye and lure her back to your table before she could do any damage, mouthing, “Get back here now!-” she did her best to ignore you, before hopping up onto the empty stool at their table.

It was difficult to read her lips from where you sat for a variety of reasons, consisting of- but not limited to: how drunk she was, how tipsy you were, how far away she was, and your lip reading skills being abysmally below par. It looked like she was leaning across the table to say “My friend thinks you're cute,” which was enough for you to vacate your hightop in favor of filling your cup at the bar. No need to sit here and watch your night become a veritable shit show.

Waiting at the bar and doing your best to avoid the feeling of eyes watching you, you prayed for the bartender to come over so you could grab another drink. She caught your eye and nodded to let you know she saw you and would be coming your way next. You glanced down at your phone while waiting for her to finish pouring out shots at the other end of the bar for the rowdy team who always placed last.

Feeling someone lean against the bar-top next to you had you looking up, hopeful it was your friend, finished making a fool out of the two of you. It really was the best quiz night in town; going to another one after this would just be disappointing. Luck wasn't on your side, though. Stood next to you wasn't your teammate, but the cute adversary you'd been carefully trying to avoid eye contact with for the better part of two hours. Luckily the bartender swooped in, “Another, hon?”

“Yes please, Sandra! Thank you.” You looked at him out of the corner of your eye, “Get him one too. I'm pretty sure my friend's been harassing his table for the past 15 minutes and it's the least I could do.” Sandra smiles and looks up at him and he places his empty glass on the counter and requests, “Just another beer, please.”

You stay quiet as Sandra fills another pint glass and pops it onto a coaster in front of him, “No charge for him. He's earned one since you guys keep kicking his ass week after week.” She winks and walks away, leaving you stood there wide-eyed and frantically wishing to disappear through the sticky floor tiles.

“I'm Jimmy,” he holds out his hand for you to shake and you do, tucking your hand into his giant one and giving him a jerky handshake.

“Nice to meet you, I'm (Y/n).” You're quiet for a beat before you feel it get a little awkward and you're antsy to fill the silence, “I'm… really sorry about her. She had a rough day at work. She doesn't usually get so drunk, but ya know… After a few drinks I can't really be responsible for her antics.” You take a long sip of your drink, just for something to do with your hands really, and to have an excuse to stop talking.

He doesn't want to stop talking it seems, because he doesn't let the silence sit, and he picks up where you left off, “Yeah, she said as much. She also said you were too shy to come over and talk.” He looks you in the eye, head tilted innocently and smirking, daring you to combat the statement.

Your face is hot and the bar is warm and there's so many places you'd rather be right now, because how fucking embarrassing??? You totally need a new friend after tonight because, honestly who does this? Not cool. Not. Cool.

“I mean, I'm not shy-” you start, trying to extricate yourself from this cluster fuck. You can literally see no way out of him knowing that you have a big, gross crush on his stupid face; you’re just too antsy, “I didn't want to intimidate your team. I figured you guys lose enough on your own. You don't need me and my giant brain getting into your heads before the game, ya know?” There we go. Sarcasm, right? Best defense mechanism there is. He seems to like the banter because his smirk becomes a smile and it feels really nice to be the one that made that happen.

He's looking at your vacant table, which won't remain empty for long- the post trivia crowd is starting to make its way in- and jerks his head in that direction before walking towards it. You take the invitation and follow him, climbing back onto your stool as he drags the one across from you closer, right next to yours, before plopping down on it. He's tall, which you knew, but his feet graze the floor, while yours dangle freely and you realize just how much bigger he is in comparison.

Under different circumstances, you could be... well not cool, calm, and collected, but at least slightly less frenetic You're worried about what Lucy-loose-lips may have let spill before he decided to get up and walk away from her word vomit, and you don't like him having all of the power in this situation.

It seems he can sense how uncomfortable you are, because he coughs and looks at you before trying again at a conversation. “Your friend likes Chris, huh?” He tips his glass to point over to his table. She’s pulling out all the stops; she's leaning in to talk to him with her hand on his forearm and you can tell she's laying the charm on thick. He seems into it though, smiling at her and listening intently to whatever she's saying. You smile a little because her last boyfriend was a douche and Chris seems like a nice enough guy.

“Yeah, she won't shut up about him.” You smirk and are finally a little more relaxed, now that you're getting the chance to focus on her crush over your own for 5 seconds.

You manage to keep light banter going for a while, him claiming they were undefeated before you showed up and ruined his life, and you claiming you’ve been holding back and he doesn’t even know what he’s up against. The conversation flows organically, Sandra even brings over another round on the house (you knew you liked her). You explain how you tricked your friend into coming here that first time you came. She thanked you since she got to stare at his friend, Chris, all night which led to you guys returning the next week and then not being able to stay away after your back-to-back wins. He laughs and admits that he was happy you guys started coming, since none of the other teams were very good and he liked a little healthy competition. He's almost done with his beer and he pushes the glass back and forth between his hands a few times before giving you a side-eye and letting that smirk settle back onto his features. “What? Is there something on my face?” You wipe your hand over your mouth, nervous that he won't stop staring at you.

“No, you're good. I was just thinking about what your friend told me.” The smirk was back full force and not going anywhere and damn if you don't have a streak of curiosity running straight through you. So, you steel yourself, finish your drink, and meet his eyes; “Well then, do tell. What did Chatty-Cathy have to say?”

You've used up just about all of the courage you possess, so you drop your eyes and play with the frayed edge of a rip in your jeans. He finishes his own drink before clearing his throat, it has the desired effect, since you look up and he continues talking. “She said, and I'm just quoting here really, so you can't shoot the messenger-” he pauses to make air quotes with his hands, which are large and strong and hot damn do you want them on your body, “-‘My friend thinks you're cute, but she's too much of a chicken shit to come over here and talk to you. You should go talk to her because she hasn't gotten any in a while and you’re just her type.’” He flourishes the end with another air quote and bless him, his face is just as red as you’re sure yours is.

You can't help but smirk back because this whole situation is so fucking ridiculous and he's even cuter when he's red like this and technically none of what she said was a lie. Might as well go for broke, since worst case scenario you just never come back here ever again. Might as well “shoot your shot” as the kids say these days, no?

“Okay, full disclosure? None of what she said is a lie?” It's not a question, but your inflection turns up at the end, since it's implied you're trying to figure out if he’s as into you as you are into him; would he really have come over here if he wasn't at least a little interested?

How many drinks have you had? Who is this confident girl who is practically asking this guy to come home with her? It can't be you, you're clearly being possessed by a spirit who cares about you and wants you to get laid. You're mulling over the likelihood of a benevolent ghost being responsible for all of this when he finally speaks up again.

“That's good to know. If we're going on the ‘full disclosure’ rule right now, I also think you're cute and have been trying to get your attention for the past 3 weeks, so I'm glad your friend got toasted and let it slip... Because I was also too shy to come over here.”

He's got his hand on your knee and he's looking you in the eye, so you give him a nod to let him know you're okay with it, but he keeps talking, “I have also not ‘gotten any in a while,’ sooo if that's a thing that you wanted, I would also be okay… more than okay, actually, with that happening.”

You're pretty sure your heart just stopped because fuck yes, please. You’ve never been this forward in your whole life but he's into it, he just said it, and you know that you're into it, and his hand feels so good on your leg, gently squeezing and getting a little higher than you'd consider strictly decent in a public setting.

“Well, we should probably fix that then. For both of us. We could leave?” You look over to his table and your friend is fully in Chris’s lap now. They're laughing and he's got his arms wrapped around her, and the two other teammates are nowhere to be found, smart of them to leave, honestly.

“Let me just,” you jerk your thumb towards your friend, indicating you need to say goodbye.

“Uh, yeah, definitely. I'm just going to go close my tab.” He looks excited that you agreed to this, if not a little shocked and you're feeling the same. But no complaints, since you want to feel him all over every inch of you if you're being honest.

Not wanting to interrupt, you tap Chris on the shoulder gently, “Can I just, steal her away. One second. I promise I'll bring her right back,” you hold up one finger and grab her hand before tugging her a few feet away, not waiting for an answer. She's got a shit eating grin plastered on her face and starts talking before you can get a word out.

“I see you met Jimmy,” she raises her eyebrows and nods her head over to where he is. He's sitting back at your table watching you two, but when he catches your eye and knows you caught him staring he looks down, the red coloring making its way back, sitting high on his cheekbones, “You're so fucking welcome.”

“I did, yes. I can't believe you just did that…. But I'm going to let it go. I'm taking him home. Find somewhere else to go tonight, okay? It's the least you can do for embarrassing me, you brat.” You tug her in for a goodbye hug and wave to Chris before making your way back to Jimmy.

“Okaaaaay, um-” you tuck a loose piece of hair back behind your ear, “-ready to go?” Jimmy stands up and tucks his hands into the pockets of his jacket. He nods and cocks his elbow out for you to loop yours through as he leads you out of the bar into the cool night air.

#jimmy vesey imagine #jimmy vesey fic #new york rangers imagine #rangers fics #nhl rpf #nhl imagine #nhl fic #part 1

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mishellejones · 6 years

Text

To Build a Home Ch. 1

Read on AO3

Heyo! Here is chapter 1 of my new bellarke fic! Updates will be weekly. I have the first few chapters written. Much love and enjoy!

Life was funny.

It was funny in the way that everything could be perfect one moment and in shambles the next. It was funny in a way that somebody out there could be having a completely normal, boring day while another’s world could be falling around them. It was funny in a way that … every moment was fleeting – every life was fleeting – and in the blink of an eye everything would be turned upside down and inside out. Backwards and irreversible.

It was funny in a way that… you could survive hell but still feel like you were in it.

It was funny in that way… where it wasn’t funny at all.

It was tragic. And scary. And full of sharp turns and plummets that made someone’s stomach feel like it was trying to eject itself from their head. And it was ironic – oh-so freaking ironic.

See, some people – the lucky ones – could live their lives oblivious to the tribulations that the world had to offer. They could be ignorant to pain. To the horrifying things that one person could do to another. They could live in bliss and in wealth. They could glide through their lives as easily as a knife cuts through flesh…

Clarke Griffin had looked to be one of them. Two successful parents. A big house. Intelligent. Beautiful. A promising, bright future. Talented… She had everything. But she knew pain. She knew just how swiftly life could come up and steal happiness.

Because it did. It came up, saw the perfect casing of her “perfect” life and said, “You’re too lucky.”

And it took from Clarke her happiness. Replaced it with pain. Then kicked her while she was down.

Because sometimes… Sometimes the “perfect” were the unlucky ones.

+++

She hated being the new girl. It was her first time ever being new anywhere and she already knew she hated it.

Clarke Griffin stood perplexed in the brightly lit hallway of Ark High School as she read and reread her newly printed schedule. The students milling all around her paid her no attention as she drew her brows together and frowned. After ten minutes of walking up and down the maze of hallways the town of Ark, Oregon called a school, Clarke proclaimed herself lost. And most definitely directionally challenged.

She glanced down at the piece of paper in her hand, as if she hadn’t already committed it to memory, and read: Anatomy and Physiology, room 106. One of the few electives that she got to take – one of the few classes she was actually going to enjoy – and of course she would end up making a fool of herself the moment she stepped foot into the classroom after the bell.

Clarke had no intention of being revealed as the new girl, but she’d bet all of her art supplies that the teacher was probably going to be one those kinds. The ones that would inevitably make the new person stand in front of the class and introduce themselves. She really wanted to just silently slip to the back of the class unnoticed… but being late would’ve made that rather difficult.

A series of expletives ran through her mind.

As much as Clarke really hadn’t wanted to have to use the map the lady in the front office had given to her – c’mon, it was like having an “I’m new!!” sign flashing above her head – there were little options. She’d have rather taken this route then being permanently stapled as the helpless new girl by whatever teacher it was that was teaching her A&P class.

Clarke was anything but helpless. She just really didn’t need any sort of extra attention brought to her.

Damn she really hated being new. And she was slightly beginning to panic. Starting her Junior year at a random high school in the middle of nowhere… well, it wasn’t going to be fun.

But… she was Clarke Griffin. She had been through a lot worse. She could handle being a new girl. She could handle a simple hallway (even though it seemed like a fucking maze at the moment). And she could sure as hell handle dealing with whatever trouble the boring town of Ark, Oregon threw at her. Because, quite simply, there was no greater hell than that horrific night…

She shook her head to steer her thought process from delving into a dark part of her mind and started forward, pulling the crumpled school map from the messenger bag at her side.

She was going to get through this. She could prove her mother wrong and she could try to live a normal life again.

Distracted, she must have picked up speed because when she whirled around the corner she had no time to register the person looming in front of her. She collided with the weirdly hard human, belongings scattering all over the hallway floor. She swore, Jesus Christ was this person a fucking wall? She was supposed to be avoiding drawing any attention to herself, and here she was making an embarrassing scene.

Absolutely fan-fucking-tastic!

“Are you blind?” she heard a deep voice growl from above her, “Because I’m pretty fucking sure I’m not invisible.”

She looked up, fully prepared to snap a quick, insincere, apology back at the mystery person she had just assaulted but was taken aback for a moment. The boy standing above her was possibly the most gorgeous person she had ever seen. Dark disheveled hair curled around his ears. His eyes were slanted ever-so slightly in a way that suggested he must have had some kind of Asian ancestry and a spattering of freckles danced across his olive skin.

He looked to be the epitome of tall dark and handsome. Chiseled jaw, muscular build, and the classic bad boy scowl plastered across his face.

Clarke immediately decided she hated him.

“So, you must be deaf too.”

Clarke snapped out of her reverie and scowled. She forced herself up, belongings tucked back under her arm, and faced the new-found ass standing in front of her. He was at least another half foot taller than her, and could probably lift three times her size, but Clarke didn’t let it intimidate her.

Don’t get into any more trouble than you already have. Echoed her mother’s words in her head. If you really know what’s best for you, you’d lay low.

Balling her hands into a fist at her side, she fixed him with a tight smile, “Not blind or deaf, just new. Don’t quite know where I’m going. Sorry.”

The ass in front of her quirked an eyebrow, “New huh?” His eyes flickered up and down her body and a smirk settled on his handsome face.

The only thing that stopped Clarke from snapping at him was the incessant lay low repeating in her head. Even though she had exchanged all of six words with the boy standing in front of her, something about him put her on edge. Like his very point of his existence was to be a nuisance in her life.

“Yes, new. Now please excuse me while I try to find my class,” she quipped, moving to step around him.

That was when she noticed the little two-person entourage standing behind him, nervously exchanging glances. One was handsome with dark, caramel skin, the slightest hint of a 5 -o’clock shadow, and sported a red beanie, while the other – well, the only way she could describe him was that he had almost impish features. He was shorter than the first, had a mop of brown hair that looked almost as if it hadn’t been washed in a week, and brandished a deep bruise just below his cheek bone. He caught her studying them and gave her a wink.

Clarke only scowled and readjusted her shoulder strap. Of course mister jerkface would have a little posse of delinquents. Just her luck.

As she moved to walk past them, she felt a warm hand encircle her arm. For half a second her thoughts nearly went spiraling back into the dark places she had tried so hard to crawl out of for so many months, the touch bringing back brutal, unwanted memories.

Lay low.

She jerked her arm out of the delinquent leader’s grasp and sharply spun back around to face him, “Don’t you ever touch me again, you hear me?”

If the new boy was surprised at her outburst he didn’t show it. Instead, he merely gave a cocky half smirk and said, “Brave Princess.”

Clarke flared her nostrils and opened her mouth to ask this kid who exactly he thought he fucking was when the taller of his two little henchmen spoke up behind her.

“Bellamy, just leave the poor girl alone.”

Bellamy, huh? So this asshat had a name after all… Kinda melodious, she had to admit. A beautiful name for a beautiful boy. It disgusted her.

Bellamy ignored him, “You got a name, new girl?” he said sardonically.

And it was in that moment that Clarke realized the whispering. She glanced around and noticed that the once bustling bodies of rushing students, well, they weren’t rushing around anymore. They were lingering, scattered around them watching every movement as if it were their favorite soap opera.

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

“Nope.” she said, deadpan. There was an almost audible gasp from a person somewhere off to her left.

Too much attention. There was way too much attention on her.

Apparently not liking the answer, his mouth formed a tight line before deciding to reply, “Nope?”

“Yup.” And she turned in an attempt to escape this unwanted, unneeded, spotlight that this infuriating boy had thrust upon her.

She made it two steps when he opened his mouth again.

“Just watch where the fuck you’re going next time,” she heard him say in a low voice.

A deep breath, and she took another step away from him. She had, what? Thirty seconds before the bell rang at this point? She really didn’t have time for him.

But apparently, he didn’t like the fact that she had ignored him because the next thing she knew he was right behind her, hand firmly placed on her shoulder. And before she could stop herself she was turned around and in his face in half a second.

“Listen, I don’t know who the fuck you think you are, or if you’re just dense, but I’m nearly positive that not ten seconds ago I told you not to touch me. And if you had an ounce of intelligence in that big head of yours, maybe, just maybe, you’d know how to respect boundaries.”

She was not even inches away from him at this point, but she didn’t care. Not about the gasps or the way Bellamy’s eyes seemed to darken… All she saw was red. She did not move across the damn country to be harassed on her first day in her new high school.

And then, before her very eyes, this infuriating boy whom she knew nothing about and just verbally assaulted, threw is head back and laughed. It wasn’t a genuine laugh, but a short and barked - one that seemed to mock her.

The kids surrounding them seemed to laugh nervously, unsure of what to make of what they were witnessing… but Clarke… all Clarke could think was What in the everloving fuck was wrong with him?

As her fists curled at her sides, she fixed him with a quizzical stare. How dare he laugh at her in such an utterly dismissive way?

“Cute,” he said unenthusiastically, the scowl he now held completely replacing any sign of the mischievous twinkle he showed before, “Listen, stay out of my way and you and I won’t have any problems. Got it?”

It was Clarke’s turn to bark a laugh. She took another step closer to him, standing as tall as she could and looked directly into Bellamy’s molten brown eyes. He would not underestimate her. She had endured a lot worse than a self-entitled jackass causing unnecessary trouble.

“The only thing I’ve ‘got’ is the new-found knowledge that your dick is probably the size of a tic-tac because the only way you could be this big of an asshat is if it all went into your personality,” she heard the two goons behind her break into exasperated laughter and felt herself smirk, “Now, I don’t know who pissed in your cheerios this morning, or if you’re just a misogynistic, pompous prick who loves to talk down to women because it feeds his falsely masculine ego, but you should know that I am not one to be trifled with. How about you stay out of my way and we go on minding our own damn business.”

A flicker of unreadable emotion went across Bellamy’s face ending in a vicious scowl. But it wasn’t directed at Clarke this time, it was directed at his friends that stood behind her - whom of which at this point were absolutely hysterical with laughter. All the kids that were scattered around them stood frozen in shock, staring stupidly with their mouths slightly ajar.

Bellamy’s gaze met hers for one menacing moment and she watched as his jaw ticked with malice.

But Clarke did not care. In fact, she felt more invigorated than intimidated. She stared at him right back, a challenge glinting in her eye. Screw laying low, at least for right now – this was the first time since… since the incident that she had felt even remotely exhilarated or proud of herself.

And it stayed that way for all of half a second because in the next moment the bell signaling the start of class sounded and all she could think was fuck.

#bellarke #bellarke fic #bellarke fanfiction #bellarkefanfiction #my writing #the 100

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