#and then i STILL get spooked. i spent all of last night in between dreams Scared Of Monsters Getting Me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cordeliawhohung · 5 months

Note

If you’re still doing requests can I get some Simon/Spook fluff? Like sitting on the tub together him just there with knees bent, her between them laid back against him, maybe dozing, and his personal thoughts about it (it being the entire relationship/feelings) I’d LOVE if it was post Everything You Touch (like if she survives and is healed) and his thoughts on that situation. But doesn’t have to be canon to the actual fic as I’m sure you don’t want spoil it. Listen I’d write this FOR you, but I don’t have the courage to ask you for permission to.

okay so, apologies this took awhile to get out. you sent in this request as i writing a very similar scene for the actual story and i was like welp al;sdkjf but now that i'm extremely sick i got the time to sit down and write :3 so in this non-canon little drabble, spook was never seriously injured and is in a bit better head space than canon story just because i wanted to try and keep this as soft and fluffy as possible for you <3 also because y'all deserve some fluff after all the hurt. (also i am like SICK sick and i did my best to edit but apologies if this is a jumbled mess)

wc: 1k

Warm water enveloped his body as best as it could in the small tub Simon found himself shoved into. Legs bent and knees several inches above water, he was honestly a bit cold, especially with the icy surface of the tile against his back. But he would face the freezing cold and more if it meant he got to hold you like that forever. With you nestled between his legs, your back pressed right up against his chest as you leaned your weight into him, trusting him enough to not let you slide down into the water. Not that you really had much room to do so, anyway, with how you had to keep your own legs bent to accommodate all the room he took up.

How long had it been since he was last able to hold you like that? A time that wasn’t in some taunting dream that haunted him over the countless sleepless nights he had suffered over the last month? When was the last time he could let his fingertips wander over your body, feeling the goosebumps as they stood up along your skin in his wake? He had spent so much time trying to remember the sound your heart made when it thudded in your chest that he almost didn’t think about how he might not ever get to hear it again.

Simon leaned forward some, arms wrapping around your center as he pulled you closer to him. It was like he wouldn’t be satisfied until you were nestled in the strict confines of his ribcage, and even then he wasn’t too sure. Melting into him, your hands reached up to rest on his arms, almost as if giving him permission to devour you. But he would never do such a thing, and instead, he pressed his lips gently against the back of your head before allowing himself to settle down once more.

“You’re so comfy,” you spoke up, quiet voice echoing off of the smooth bathroom walls.

“Not gonna fall asleep on me are ya, sweetheart?” he teased softly.

“I might.”

And that would be fine, he thought. He hadn’t been blind to the difficulties you had sleeping those nights. You were lucky if you were able to fall asleep before two in the morning, and even luckier if you didn’t wake up a few hours later in a cold sweat. Sometimes he was afraid to touch you in those moments, fearing he’d wake you; break you. But then? With the water washing away the stench and the filth of everything the two of you had endured, it was like being reborn. There was something to be said about being made anew while holding you in his arms. Maybe in time he’d find the words.

“Sure you don’t want to wash up first?” he prompted, though he didn’t dare move an inch.

“Yeah,” you said softly, eyes long since closed.

“The water’ll get cold.”

“You’ll keep me warm.”

He would. He’d set himself on fire if it kept your fingers from going stiff. And though flames were nice, nothing was quite as warm as flesh blood, and he’d pour every drop out of himself if you asked him to. How maddening it was, knowing he’d destroy himself for you.

Simon continued to hold you as he listened to your breaths slow and body go limp. If you weren’t already asleep, you were damn close to it. It was as his skin started to prune that he realized he wanted to grow old with you; if a man like him would ever have the opportunity to, anyway. There was something that was healing about your presence, something he couldn’t place for the longest time. Eventually he realized it was purpose.

You gave him a purpose that wasn’t bloody. One that didn’t involve guns or knives and skinning humans as if they were livestock. All you required of him was the softest touch he could muster, and the press of his lips against your skin. You were the first thing in his life that didn’t demand his violence, and yet also the first thing he’d glady turn into a monster for if it meant keeping you safe.

Suddenly, your body jerked, and the bathwater splashed around with your movement. His arms tightened around you as you let out a sharp sigh before quickly relaxing again.

“I fell,” you said simply.

“Fell?” he repeated.

“Yeah, like… you know when you’re falling asleep, and it feels like you’re falling through the bed?” you asked, to which he hummed in response. “I fell.”

“Good thing I was here to catch you.”

He could feel you roll your eyes in response to him, but even if he couldn’t see your face he knew you smiled. Before you could say anything snarky in response, he leaned down and kissed your shoulder.

“C’mon,” he urged, “starting to prune.”

Before you knew it, he had dried you off and gotten you dressed in the most comfortable pajamas he could find before wrapping you in as many blankets as your body could handle. It didn’t take you long to fall back asleep, face relaxed as your shoulders moved with your soft breathing.

He couldn’t help but stand at the foot of the bed and watch you for a moment. His eyes traced the features of your face, how your eyelids intermittently fluttered, how your lips slightly parted. You were all his. His to cherish, love, protect. Every time he looked at you there was this feeling that blossomed in his stomach, a question that bubbled in the back of his throat, something that he wasn’t sure he should entertain quite yet.

For the time being, he settled for sliding into bed next to you. His warmth enveloped you better than any blanket could, and the security of his body was more comforting than anything else you could ever imagine. As the two of you laid there, minds slowly beginning to wander into a fuzzy world, Simon promised himself he wasn’t ever going to let go of you again.

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x you #soft spot

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sihtricfedaraaahvicius · 8 months

Text

Chapter 5.

Note: follow up to chapter 4.

Warnings: 18+! fluff/suggestive!

pairing: Modern!Sihtric x you (f)

summary: You woke up next to Sihtric, and he struggled to get through the day.

wordcount: 3k

Masterlist

'And what about it?'

When you opened your eyes the next morning, you blinked in confusion. Seconds passed as you processed where you had woken up, whose bed you were in, and whose breathing you felt in your neck while someone's arm was around you. You gasped softly when it all came back to you. You had really spent a night with Sihtric? The Sihtric Kjartansson? The one and only bass player of Seven Kings, your favourite band? You once again thought it had all been a dream when you woke from your slumber, before opening your eyes and being aware of your surroundings.

You sat up and rubbed your eyes, then remembered you were completely naked and hastily reached for the bathrobe, which was still on the other side of the bed, where Sihtric left it last night after undressing you.

'What the fuck,' you whispered, staring at Sihtric who seemed to be asleep still.

You couldn't tear your eyes away from his handsome face, with his long, messy bed hair, his slightly parted lips and the several scars he had earned in mosh pits when he was a teenager, going to every local heavy metal show before he picked up a guitar himself. You simply couldn't believe this man had invited you to stay with him, and you had to stop yourself from freaking out. You quickly put on the robe, laid back down in bed and grabbed your phone off the nightstand, seeing you had uncountable texts from Gisela, asking how your night had been and why you weren't answering.

You: Gisela... you will not believe it

You started typing a huge text when suddenly Sihtric startled you.

'Who are you texting?' he asked with a low, raspy voice as he peeked over your shoulder.

'Christ,' you hissed, almost dropping your phone, 'you spooked me.'

'Sorry,' Sihtric chuckled and nuzzled your neck, wrapping his arm around you again to pull you back under the covers with him.

'But I'm texting my friend, the one who wanted to join me to the afterparty last night, but couldn't make it.'

'Mhm,' Sihtric hummed, 'well, tell her she'll have to wait,' he said and rolled you over to face him.

'Wait for what?' you giggled while Sihtric peppered kisses all over your face and neck.

'To wait until I'm done with you,' Sihtric grinned before he pressed his lips back onto your skin again, leaving open-mouthed kisses.

'Oh, well, o- okay,' you mumbled, smiling as you got lost in his touch while hearing his soft hums, and your phone slipped out of your hand, never sending Gisela that text.

You wrapped your arms around Sihtric's neck as he positioned his body between your thighs, his warm hand taking your knee and hooking your leg around his waist. He looked down at you with sleepy eyes and a half smile, then buried his face in your neck while grinding his hips against yours.

'Gods, I want you to use me,' Sihtric breathed in your ear and chuckled, 'hm,' he hummed, lips trailing up to your mouth, 'use me all up, sweetheart,' he sighed and bit your lip before he brought his lips back to your neck.

The sound of his husky voice and the feeling of his erection, painfully trapped in his underwear, grinding against your wet and unclothed folds made you lose your mind. You knew it was still too soon to tell where whatever you had going with Sihtric would lead to eventually, but you were ready for him, and desperate too. If he was going to ghost you after today, you thought, then at least you knew how big his cock was, and you fought a smile tugging at your lips as your imagination ran wild.

'I'll use you good,' you chuckled softly, hands moving up into his hair for a firm tug, to which he moaned desperately.

'Oh, please,' he whined, and just when he wanted to get off you and pull you on top of him, your phone rang, and a song of Seven Kings you had set as your ringtone awkwardly blasted through the room.

'Fuck,' you hissed, searching for your phone, which had gotten lost under the sheets, 'sorry!'

Sihtric breathed hard and then chuckled, out of breath, as he moved to lay beside you while you searched the bed.

'Don't worry, lady,' he laughed softly, 'you should answer your phone,' he said when you finally found it.

'Oh,' you grimaced, 'but it's a video call.'

'So?' Sihtric shrugged, 'your friend?'

'Yeah. But… she'll see you if I pick up.'

'And?' he asked, 'I don't care. You don't have to hide me or anything,' he smiled at you and pulled you in his arms after he sat up against the bed's headboard.

'Are you sure?'

'Yeah,' Sihtric said, grabbing his own phone to keep himself entertained while you'd talk with your friend.

You answered Gisela's call and she immediately fired her burning questions at you, leaving no space for you to even answer.

'Where are you? Wait, that is not your bed. Whose bed is that? How was the afterparty? Did you see Uhtred? What was he wearing? And Sihtric? Was he nice? What happened!?'

You listened to her endless list of questions, deliberately holding your phone in an angle so she couldn't see Sihtric. But when Gisela finally stopped talking, Sihtric suddenly laughed out loud at a meme he scrolled past. And you froze.

'W-who is there with you?' Gisela asked with big eyes, but she already knew the answer.

She had recognised Sihtric's laugh, just like she could recognise every other band member's laugh, after the hours of silly videos you watched together of the band.

'Is that… are you…' she stammered, 'are you w-with Sihtric?'

You gave her a sheepish smile and Sihtric took your hand, tilting the phone towards him, and Gisela almost choked on her tea when she saw him.

'And what about it?' Sihtric asked with a cocky smile.

Gisela simply stared at him with her jaw dropped.

'Gis?' you said, directing your phone back to you again, 'are you still there or did your screen just freeze?'

'N-no I'm… here,' she barely whispered, then you heard a sudden knock on the hotel door.

You looked at Sihtric, who got up and quickly put on some sweatpants before he walked into the small hallway, to answer the door.

'Hey, man,' a familiar voice said.

You and Gisela stared at each other with huge eyes, both recognizing Uhtred's voice at the door. You could tell Gisela was about to let out an inhuman sound, so you quickly motioned her to be quiet, and you both eavesdropped on the conversation.

'Where'd you go last night?' Uhtred asked, 'we saw you for like a moment and then you seemed to have vanished into thin air.'

'Yeah, I left rather early,' Sihtric said.

'And that's fine, but let us know next time, okay? We didn't know where you went and you didn't answer our texts.'

'I know, sorry, I just woke up.'

'All good,' Uhtred said and then lowered his voice, 'you, uh, got a girl in there?'

'Eh,' Sihtric chuckled softly, 'y-yeah.'

'The one you've been messaging with?'

'Yeah, yeah,' Sihtric said softly.

'Is she pretty?'

'Uhtred,' Sihtric sighed, 'leave us alo-'

Suddenly you heard the door slam against the wall. Uhtred had pushed himself past Sihtric in the room, and he suddenly appeared out of the little hallway, walking up to you.

'Well, hello, beautiful,' Uhtred grinned at you, standing with his hands on his hips, hoping to impress you with his dashing looks.

You frowned at him, and luckily Gisela kept quiet when she understood what happened.

'Eh, hi,' you smiled a little awkwardly and then looked at Sihtric, who mouthed 'sorry' to you.

Uhtred stared at you, his grin slowly falling off his face when he realised you weren't going to swoon over him, like he had expected. A mildly disappointed look settled on his face before he turned on his heels.

'She's all yours,' Uhtred winked at Sihtric and slapped his cheek, before he walked out of the room, closing the door with a slam.

'Oh my god,' Gisela whispered with big eyes.

'Look,' you said, 'I- I gotta go. I'll text you later, okay?'

You hung up before Gisela could answer and Sihtric walked over to you.

'I'm really sorry,' he sighed, 'that won't happen again.'

'It's okay,' you laughed, and mindlessly took his hand in yours.

Sihtric smiled and squeezed your hand lightly.

'So,' he said and laid down next to you, 'do you have any plans for today, lady?' he asked and pecked your hand all over.

'Not really, except for taking a train back home,' you giggled, 'why?'

He smiled and looked up at you, softly brushing his fingers over your cheek.

'Would you like to spend the day with me here, in the city?' Sihtric asked, 'like… I don't know, like… like a date, I guess?'

You stared at Sihtric as he stood opposite of you in the hotel elevator. Dressed in jeans, his black boots underneath, a white shirt on top and a leather jacket to finish this look.He hoped to be somewhat unrecognisable in public by hiding most of his long hair under a black beanie, and his mismatched eyes behind some shades, even though it was cloudy. And you thought he looked absolutely ravishing. You were dressed in yesterday's outfit, which had already dried well by the time you woke up.

After asking what kind of lunch you wanted, and not getting a clear answer from you, Sihtric took you to some cosy place he ate lunch at on his own the day before. You sat in a quiet corner, opposite of each other, and Sihtric took your hand in his after taking off his shades, smiling sweetly at you. And just when he wanted to tell you how beautiful you looked, the waitress interrupted, handing you the menu and asking what you wanted to drink. Sihtric looked a little crushed by the abrupt interruption and felt the moment was ruined when the waitress left.

He already knew what he wanted to order and, while your eyes still scanned the menu, he sneakily stared at you, smiling, as he held the menu up just below his eyes. When you had made your choice and looked up at him, he quickly looked back at the menu. You fought a smile, knowing he was not so subtle with his gazing at you, which you thought was adorable. Sihtric put the menu down on the table and opened his mouth to speak, after gathering the courage to finally ask if he could get your number, but then the waitress appeared again with your drinks and asked what you wanted to eat. And Sihtric sighed quietly at the interruption.

After you had ordered a simple sandwich for yourself, and Sihtric a whole hamburger meal for himself, because he was apparently starving, he leaned back and looked at you again. He took off his beanie and somewhat nervously raked his fingers through his messy hair.

'So,' Sihtric finally said, and cleared his throat.

'Oh my god,' you suddenly chuckled, cutting him off, and you pointed at the TVs that hung all around the bar. 'You're on tv,' you snorted.

Sihtric looked up, sighed, and hid his face in his hands.

'Fuck,' he groaned, not wanting to look at himself on tv or hear his band's music right now.

He then decided he'll ask for your number later. When the food was brought over, you immediately devoured your sandwich, and just when Sihtric wanted to take a bite of his burger, someone walked up to him.

'E-excuse me,' a young woman asked, and Sihtric stared up at her with his mouth open, ready for that burger.

'Can I g-get a photo with you? I really love your band,' the young lady asked shyly.

'Eh,' Sihtric put down his burger with a slightly sour face, 'I'd rather not take any photos, but I don't mind signing something for you.'

The woman happily agreed. Sihtric signed a napkin for her and handed her a guitar pick, and she thanked him before leaving you both to enjoy your food. You stared at Sihtric as he picked up his burger again.

'You never gave me that guitar pick you promised,' you joked.

Sihtric sighed, put the bun down on his plate again and reached into his pocket.

'Here, love,' he smiled and shook his head lightly while giving you a pick.

'Thanks,' you laughed, 'I'll cherish it,' you said with a grin and slipped it in your own pocket.

'Just, please don't make it into a necklace,' Sihtric gave you a disapproving look, 'I don't like those.'

'Fine,' you shrugged, and continued to eat.

When Sihtric made another attempt to finally take a bite out of his burger, the waitress walked by and accidentally bumped into his elbow, causing the burger to slip out of his hands and land back on the plate, falling apart all over the rest of his dish, and he decided to give up.

You walked back onto the street again, and before you could turn to face Sihtric, he had snuck up behind you already and lifted you up in his arms. You giggled and kicked your feet at the sudden loss of ground beneath you, while he chuckled in your ear and kissed your cheek before putting you back on your feet again. His arms lingered around your waist as he moved to walk beside you, and then he wrapped his arm around your neck.

'Where to now?' you asked, feeling you were blushing heavily.

'Hm, I don't know,' Sihtric looked around, 'let's just walk and see where we end up?'

You agreed and strolled around the city for a little while. Sihtric was shamelessly handsy with you and stole a kiss whenever he could. And you absolutely didn't mind it, you were simply living your best fanfic life right now, but sometimes you felt your head spin when you tried to grasp the situation.

'Oh!' Sihtric suddenly exclaimed.

He took your hand and dragged you across the street, into a music store. Sihtric took off his glasses and the store employee immediately recognised him, who froze at the sight of him. Sihtric more or less ignored the guy and walked up to a gigantic wall, which held numerous bass guitars.

When the store employee finally dared to walk up to Sihtric, they had some small talk and Sihtric tried out a few bass guitars, playing some funky bass solos from one of his favourite bands; Red Hot Chili Peppers. The bass melody of Factory of Faith blasted through the store, while you and the store employee both looked smitten at the handsome bass player. Sihtric wasn't even trying to impress you, but it happened regardless. And when he was done playing some tunes, he held the neon green bass up he just played with, and inspected it for a moment.

'I like this one,' he mumbled to himself, then turned to the employee, 'I'll take this one,' he said.

And so Sihtric randomly bought another bass guitar, which would be shipped to the band's recording studio in London. Once outside the shop again, you wondered what the fuck just happened. Because Sihtric had just walked into a store and randomly bought an expensive new bass, as if it was the most normal thing in the world, like going to the bakery. Which it probably was in his world, but not in yours.

'Did you need it?' you chuckled while Sihtric folded the receipt and shoved it inside his leather jacket.

'No,' Sihtric shrugged, 'but I liked the colour,' he grinned and took your hand. 'Look,' he said, pulling you with him to sit on a bench nearby. 'I've been meaning to talk to you about a few things all day already, but I kept getting interrupted before.'

You frowned at him, feeling a little worried he was about to break your heart as he looked nervous while sitting down next to you.

'So,' he said, taking off his glasses, 'first of all, I'd really like to have your number, so we can just text and call in private, not on a social media app.'

Your heart skipped a beat at his words.

'And I wanted to tell you that in the next few months I'll be recording again with the guys. I know we just released a new album, but we had so much good stuff left, we want to make an EP. And after that we'll go on a bigger tour, you know, like… a world tour. The shows we just did were just us testing the waters again. We've been laying low for a good year, we didn't know if people were still into us. But for some reason they are,' he chuckled, 'so, yeah. That is kind of… what my future holds,' he said.

You blinked at him, overwhelmed by all the sudden information, and you had no idea what to tell him.

'And also,' Sihtric cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck as he nervously continued, 'You… well… I mean, I- I kinda want to know, like… what are your plans for the future? For your future? Like, for the next year, you know? And, I guess, more specifically, eh, I want to know if… if I...' he cleared his throat again, 'if I fit somewhere in there… in that future, w-with you?'

You stared at Sihtric, who was blushing by now, anxiously awaiting your answer.

'I… well, I am not really going anywhere, except for my… my work,' you swallowed hard, 'are you…' you hesitantly said after a moment, 'wait, w-what are you asking here?'

He buried his face in his hands and groaned softly, then looked back up at you again.

'I just really want you to be my girlfriend,' Sihtric blurted out, fast, and stared into your eyes as he held your hands.

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#sihtric x reader #sihtric x you #sihtric kjartansson #sihtric fic #the last kingdom fic #the last kingdom #sihtric #tlk #modern!sihtric

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starlessea · 3 years

Text

Sea Witch (Daryl Dixon/Reader)

Era: S4

Summary: You sing just like a siren, and it makes Daryl realise why some sailors chose to drown.

Words: 1521

Warnings: Language.

Daryl was bewitched. He'd tip-toed his way out of the cellblock like a ghost haunting the hallways - careful not to wake anyone. He'd always had trouble sleeping, and found himself sneaking out for a midnight cigarette more often than not. Though, he'd run out of them the week before last, and had only recently managed to find a soggy packet on yesterday's supply run. He'd been waiting for this, and his fingertips traced over the carton in his pocket - feeling antsy to breathe in that first breath of smoke.

Except, he had forgotten all about them when he made his way outside. It was dark, and usually Daryl would find a secluded spot in the courtyard to flick his lighter like it was a sparkler in the night, and let the ends of his cigarettes burn his fingers just so that he could remember the feeling. But tonight was different.

He thought it must be the witching hour, because the world didn't quite feel like it had when he’d left it. The moon was out, and it cast a hazed glow over the fields, and made Daryl's hands look a lot paler than they were. Yet, the sky was clear enough that he could see the countless stars hanging in it - like peering sets of eyes staring down at him. Daryl wasn't the type of man to spook easily, but something about this night set him on edge.

Then, he heard it. He wasn't entirely sure from where, but he could definitely hear it nonetheless. The man took a few tentative steps, whipping his head around to try and find the source of the noise. He couldn't, but he kept searching in the dark, as if some strange magnetism wouldn't let him leave. Daryl was bewitched - but by what exactly, he did not know.

You stood in the watchtower, overlooking the rolling fields and the forest that concealed any world that may exist beyond the prison. It was like you all lived on an island, lost out at sea. You wished that were the case - and that whoever dared to try and come for you would drown in their manmade boats and leave you all in peace.

Everything had been calm since you'd taken down Woodberry, but you couldn't help but feel it was the calm before the storm. So, you watched. You peered into the dark like you expected to see something there, and counted down the minutes until you could switch your shift and rest your eyes for good.

On nights like this, you felt an unease creep into your bones. You had no explanation for it, except the fact that everything felt too quiet. You didn't like that very much, so you decided to change it. Humming softly to yourself at first, you let your voice get gradually louder, as it got carried off by the wind like a ship to the current.

"My heart is pierced by cupid-" you sang, the words coming out sweet and thick.

"I distain all glittering gold. There is nothing can console me-"

The breeze had died down, so that your voice rang clearer in the stagnant air, seeming to carry all away to that forest and beyond.

"But my jolly sailor bold."

Daryl thought he'd gone mad. He paced around the courtyard like a fish bobbing around a lure - except, he couldn't see the lure dangling right in front of him. His cigarette remained unlit between his lips, and was mostly unsmokable from how much he'd chewed it between his teeth. The song was unlike anything he'd ever heard before, and he couldn't let himself return to his cell until he found out who sang it. It was strange; he felt more trapped here, outside, than he had done within the prison.

The moonlight allowed him a good enough view of the area, but he could see no other figures aside from his own shadow. He wondered if he was stuck in the midst of a dangerous game - but he felt himself too far gone to turn back now. The man spat the cigarette out from his mouth and stomped over it with his boot, grumbling under his breath about how much of a waste it was.

He turned on his heels, ready to call it a night - albeit a disappointing one. Then, he heard it again, and Daryl Dixon was no quitter.

"His hair it hangs in ringlets, his eyes as black as coal-" you continued, staring out into the abyss like you expected to see a ship break through the misty fog and drop anchor at your gates.

"My happiness attend him wherever he may go."

Then, you saw him. A figure stood below the watchtower, looking up at you like they'd just stumbled upon the new world. You let your words trail off and squinted, trying to get a look at whoever it was.

Daryl stood triumphantly at the base of the tower, having found the source of the siren song. He hadn't expected it to be you - but that was probably intentional. Daryl batted all thoughts of you away like they were oncoming attacks, not letting him alone for more than a minute. He really did feel bewitched by you, by your unassuming smile, or the way you laughed at other people's jokes that weren't his - and how he wished he'd been the one to tell them. He hadn't thought you'd been the one singing, but that was only because he tried to think of everyone else it could be, first.

"Who ya tryna lure in?" Daryl called up at you, and you flinched.

You hadn't expected for the shadow in the dark to be him, but you couldn't say that you minded, either.

"Jesus, Daryl!" You yelled back, resting your hand over your heart. "You scared me."

It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't entirely the truth. You'd seen him before he'd even called out. The only thing that had scared you was realising it was Daryl. The man left you utterly speechless on a good day, and you wondered whether tonight was a good night.

"Nah, ya scared me." He grumbled in response, keeping his voice loud so you could still hear it.

You couldn't make out any of his features from where he stood, but the moonlight illuminated enough that you could see him looking straight up at you - like you were the beacon atop of a lighthouse.

"Thought my time was comin' to an end." He remarked, and you stifled a laugh. "Jus' wanted a cigarette an' I got the sea witch over here singin' some creepy shit."

You felt your cheeks burn, suddenly feeling too tongue-tied for someone who'd spent the night pouring over all the lyrics and melodies you could remember. It was like you'd used up all your words on your songs - leaving you silent for longer than you'd like.

"It's not creepy!" You argued, after a few seconds, but the man already knew.

Daryl wasn't sure why he'd said that, and suddenly wished he could take it back. He glanced up at you, leaning on the railing of the tower as your hair draped over the edge of it. To him, you almost seemed like an apparition - standing there against the ghostly moon like you were made to exist for this night.

"Ya got a pretty voice." He mumbled, wanting you to know what he’d really meant to say.

You bent further over the guard, trying to hear what the man had muttered into the night.

"What?" You shouted, calling out to him. "I can't hear you from down there."

He remained silent, or maybe you'd just missed what he'd said again. He felt so far away from you, and you wished he'd just come closer.

"Are you going to come up?" You prompted, but felt your heart sink as he quickly shook his head.

"Nah." He replied. "Don' fancy drownin' tonight."

You raised an eyebrow, not having the slightest clue what he meant. The man didn't give you much time to mope, however, as he called back up to you before he left.

"Maybe tomorrow." He said, and you watched the angel wings of his jacket catch the light as he turned around.

"Okay." You smiled to yourself. "See you around, Sailor!"

And so, Daryl returned back to the cellblock for the night, thumbing over the near-full packet of cigarettes in his pocket. The prison was as quiet as it was when he'd left, and he wasn't sure if any time had even passed since he’d been gone. The man slumped back onto his mattress and felt himself drift off to sleep like a boat adrift over waves, feeling more tired than he’d done in a long time.

Daryl fell asleep to dreams of peering, starlit eyes and a sea witch who stood among them, and you continued to sing until another figure was lured to your watchtower - this time, to take over your shift.

A/N I was listening to this cover of Jolly Sailor Bold whilst writing this. It’s honestly so enchanting-

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helnjk · 3 years

Text

Don’t Be A Stranger

Fred Weasley x fem!reader

Word count: 1.6k

Summary: breakups are tough, but they’re necessary.

Warnings: angst. brief mentions of intoxication.

A/N: i’m so sorry this is how i cope okay. i might have cried writing this

flashbacks are in italics

–

It was silent.

Having grown up being friends with and loving Fred Weasley, who was always so loud, so full of life and love, the silence unnerved her. It seemed as if every little thing, every small sound spooked her. Strangers’ conversations on the street that flowed in through the open windows, the ticking of the clock on the wall, the excited squeals of the children in the park nearby.

She needed something to distract her, so she stood shakily and went to the kitchen to put the kettle on. The monotony of the task soothed her in a way, gave her something else to think about.

Still, in the silence, her thoughts rang through, loud and clear.

She was tired of it. Of sitting across from each other at the table, having dinner in silence as if they were alone. Of sleeping next to each other, limbs stiff and not touching, bodies working hard to keep the space between them. Of being unable to hold a conversation like they used to, instead relying on stilted exchanges to get through the day.

They were both too scared to admit to themselves and to each other that it wasn’t working anymore. Spending their days skirting around each other, pretending that everything was alright.

It wasn’t. And, Y/N realized as she dunked her tea bag into the boiling water, it hadn’t been alright in a long time.

With a soft sigh, her eyes glanced at the clock on the wall. She had about half an hour until the floo in the living room roared to life and spat out Fred. The deep breaths she took, trying to steady herself, weren’t much of a help to her as she realized what she needed to do.

Y/N loved Fred Weasley, of course she loved him, how could she not? But sometimes love wasn’t enough to keep a relationship alive.

This was one of those times.

They had grown up together, learned to love together, lived their lives together. Y/N couldn’t think of any memory she had that didn’t involve Fred in some way. He was always there, steady and strong, an anchor that braved the vicious tides and came out of the storm intact. But as time passed by, his presence had started to feel more like a weight on her chest, and the more they grew apart, the heavier the pressure seemed to be.

“Oh Freddie,” she mumbled under her breath, despite being all alone in the big flat, “What’s happened to us?”

As she paced the living room, urging herself not to look at the time every five seconds, she remembered all the good that they shared together.

The warm nights spent by the fireplace at the Gryffindor common room. How she would curl up into Fred’s chest, content with staying there forever, wrapped in all things good, soft, and lovely. He would press kisses on the top of her head, whispering sweet nothings into her ear, dreaming of what their future would be like together.

“Mm, that feels good,” she groaned, her head leaning back against the arm of the couch as Fred massaged at her feet absentmindedly.

Her boyfriend, who was in a conversation with his twin and Lee Jordan, turned his head at her statement, “Careful now, L/N, don’t want you sleeping on me. You told me you were going to get some coursework done.

“Who are you and what have you done with my boyfriend?”

He merely raised an eyebrow.

“The Fred Weasley I know would never tell me to do my schoolwork over falling asleep.”

The loud laugh that came out of him made Y/N’s heart flutter. In retaliation, he stopped massaging her and instead went to press his fingers into her side. The conversation about Wheezes left his mind completely as she struggled to leave his grip, her laugh echoing through the somewhat empty common room.

George and Lee rolled their eyes at the couple, but said nothing.

She remembered summers at the Burrow, the golden rays of the sun beating down on them as they soared through the air. The smell of freshly baked treats, waiting for them as they playfully teased each other on the way inside.

“Oh Y/N dear, welcome back!” gushed Molly, holding her arms out for a hug.

Y/N smiled wide, happily accepting the hug from the Weasley matriarch. She could easily spot the freshly baked apple pie, cooling on the window sill, her eyes scanning the familiar and welcoming space that was Fred’s home.

“Alright mum, quit hogging my girlfriend,” Fred teased and rolled his eyes playfully.

He was met with a light slap on the arm and a tut from his mother, “Please Fred, you spend months and months at school with this lovely girl. Give everyone else a chance with her!”

“Yeah, Fred, who said I’m here to hang out with you? I’m definitely here to spend some time with Molly.”

At that, Mrs. Weasley let out a laugh and hooked her arm with Y/N’s. The pair of them making a beeline towards the kitchen where they would spend hours chatting, having some tea, and ultimately preparing dinner.

She remembered drunken nights full of laughter and giddiness. Of nearly falling over and feeling strong arms wrapping around her. The floating feeling that came with one too many drinks and stumbling through hallways, trying to keep quiet while getting to bed.

A giggle rang through the otherwise silent hallway as Y/N tried to make it back up the many flights of stairs at the Burrow.

“Woah there, sweetheart,” a voice sounded from somewhere beside her before she felt arms snake around her waist. The person’s grip was warm and strong, and Y/N’s cheeks began to ache with how big her grin was.

“Freddie!” she whisper-yelled, turning in his arms to face him, “I’m trying to get back to Ginny’s room!”

“I can see that, love,” he chuckled.

The younger ones of the Weasley family had had just a little too much firewhiskey that night, celebrating the fact that all of them were officially Hogwarts graduates. Well, most of them, as the twins hadn’t technically graduated.

“You’re so pretty Freddie,” she gasped, cupping his face into her hands, “Have I ever told you that? You’re so, so pretty.”

Fred had a hard time not waking up the whole household with his laughs, “I haven’t heard that before, no. But thank you.”

She swayed slightly on her feet, succumbing to the way the liquor pulsed through her veins.

“Alright, let’s get you to sleep. Your head’s going to be pounding in the morning, and I’ll put some hangover potion by your bed.”

“You take such good care of me baby,” she mumbled, pressing a soft kiss on his neck as they slightly stumbled their way to the room.

Y/N couldn’t even bear to think about what she would do if–when–he moved on. Her throat closed up at the thought of having to hear that he was seeing someone else. Taking in a shuddering breath, she closed her eyes and tried to remind herself that it wasn’t working out, they weren’t working out, and that was okay.

Too lost in her thoughts, she nearly jumped at the sound of Fred flooing in. Her eyes darted to the clock and it read a quarter past five, right on time.

“Hey,” he said softly, brushing off some of the soot that came with his mode of transportation.

“Hey Freddie,” she smiled sadly at him.

The use of his nickname gave him pause, and as their eyes met, a sadness washed over the two of them. This was it.

“I think we need to have a talk,” she said, swallowing dryly.

“Right.” He nodded.

For the first time in what seemed like ages, Y/N and Fred sat side by side on the couch, legs brushing against each other, hands clutched tightly together. They sat in silence for what seemed like hours, clinging onto what they knew was going to be their last few moments together.

Seven years together was coming to an end.

By the time Y/N garnered enough courage to look Fred in the eyes, she had tears pooling in her own. She could see the softness in his eyes that was reserved only for when he looked at her, but she could also see the hitches in his breath as he tried to reign in his emotions.

“Freddie,” she whispered, her palm going up to gently cup his face. The gesture caused him to choke out a sob, a lone tear falling from his wet eyes. He placed his hand on top of hers, shutting his eyes for a brief moment before meeting hers. “Freddie you know we haven’t been okay for a long time.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, “Yeah I know, sweetheart.”

Her heart lurched at the pet name, not having heard it for what seemed like an eternity.

“I’m sorry that it has to end like this,” he whispered, “That I didn’t work harder or do something to fix it.”

“It’s no one’s fault, Fred, and you know it. It’s just… time.”

Her words were confident and sure, despite the fact that she could feel her heart crumbling as she spoke them.

“I love you.”

His words were whispered, as if he was sharing a secret with her. In that moment, he seemed so small, and Y/N almost took back everything she had said and thought about that afternoon. With a slight shake of her head, she tried to gain some of her composure.

“I love you too.”

“Hey,” he smiled sadly at her, squeezing her hand for the last time before letting go, “Don’t be a stranger, alright?”

–

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apiratewhopines · 3 years

Text

Thanks again to @teamhook for the artwork and being the muse for this one! You wanted a movie fic and I did my best 🙂

Midnight

Chapter 7 — The Slipper

Summary: In which our heroine resets the clock

Chapter 7 on AO3 (That’s all folks!!)

“You’ll never know

How many dreams I dreamed about you”

-It’s Been a Long, Long Time, Bing Crosby

It was receiving the invitation to Arthur and Guinevere’s second wedding that did it. Emma’s fairy godfather stayed in touch after their weekend in the country, offering investment advice for her windfall and acting for all the world like her adopted brother. She knew he felt guilty for finding his happy ending at her expense. Despite her reassurances she messed up her chances hours before he came on the scene, maybe months if she were really honest.

Three months ago, she left the estate a little more scarred, a little less hopeful, and much more wealthy. She paid back the money stolen from Granny but couldn’t bring herself to buy a place in the city like she originally planned. Instead, she took the remainder and invested it per Arthur’s overbearing instruction. She doubled it in a week and tripled that figure by the end of the month.

She still wasn’t satisfied, though. Dreams of a certain blue-eyed man haunted her, his last words whispering through her mind like a mantra and a curse. So she found Neal’s trail again and spent the next couple of weeks looking for him in the shadows and muck. She found him mooching off his mother of all people.

All the hate, anger, and embarrassment she buried deeply at the end of their relationship dissipated the moment she saw him. Why had she given him so much real estate in her mind, allowed the ghost of him to rob her of her sanity and potential happiness?

It was with satisfaction at a job well done rather than his impeding downfall that she turned him over to the local authorities and headed back to the east coast.

By the time she arrived, she was richer and even more lonely.

She was listless and finding no reason to stay, Emma accepted Arthur’s latest proposition that she needed to see the world. Using his numerous estates as a guide, she flitted across the globe, experiencing all the world had to offer and looking. Always looking.

It took her longer than it should have to realize she wouldn’t find what she was missing in the new people she met or the natural wonders she explored. The whole time her mind and soul were calling out for a more familiar setting and a dearer face.

Lancelot was right. She was running scared, and the only thing it was going to get her was absolutely nothing.

The handsome, almost homewrecker had not attempted to reach out since their quiet conversation on the beach, but that didn’t mean she didn’t know what he was up to. After calling it quits, he realized the US hadn’t been the best place for him. He returned with great fanfare to France, where he took on the daily running of the family business. He was said to have the Midas touch, working with the locals to improve the processes and products they offered. His vineyard was becoming the trendiest tourist destination in the country.

Not even a month after his departure, the press reported on the fairytale romance of the champagne millionaire and his widowed neighbor, Belle French. The pair’s engagement announcement ran in every major newspaper in the world.

It was quick work, even for Lancelot du Lac. She couldn’t begrudge him, though. He was never truly a bad man, just a regular one who made bad decisions. She could certainly relate.

Cutting her trip short, she returned to the city where it all started, to a tiny loft apartment she rented on a month-by-month basis above Granny’s diner. There didn’t seem to be much point in seeing the world when the only world she was interested in was centered about four hours away.

The news of Killian was more challenging to come by than the other people involved in her charade, but that only made it more precious. A charity fundraiser here, a life saved there, the ever-present and never changing picture on the hospital website she checked so often it was now saved as her homepage. She thought glimpses and scraps were all she was entitled to at first. However, the longer she tried to resist his pull, the more she started to think maybe she did deserve a chance.

Maybe she wasn’t too late.

Staring at the thick cream-colored invitation with scrolling words waxing romance, dates, and times, she came to a decision and packed her bags.

—

It wasn’t hard to find the exact location of their meeting. It was burned into Emma’s memory. Their initial encounter cemented as one of those moments that seem routine when they happen but take root in your fate and grow, threading through every aspect of your life until all traces of happiness are tied to one serendipitous second in time.

After departing from Arthur’s estate in a chauffeured car all those months ago, she had returned to this spot and found her Bug right where she left it. Someone, probably the Prince Charming she was determined to break, had filled the tank with gas. So, she bid adieu to Arthur’s employee and drove off into the sunset all alone. Like she did everything.

Nothing had changed about the place in the intervening months. It was thirty minutes to midnight. The dark sky was clear, stars twinkling from space and the moon a tiny thumbnail above the evergreens. She would wait all night if she had to, but sooner or later, she would catch her quarry.

Emma Swan always got her man.

Unfortunately, she didn’t always get him on her first try. She waited for a couple hours the first night, but no black BMW could be seen cresting the hill. Admitting defeat, she went back to her hotel and vowed to try again.

She knew she could have sprung an unannounced visit on him at his job. After all, it wasn’t difficult to pick out his dark sedan in the parking lot when she cruised by the hospital several times a day. Nor would it have been difficult to track down his address and ambush him one evening when he returned home. The idea had a lot of appeal since his place lived in a variety of fantasies involving oversized shirts and pancakes.

Deep down, she knew after she had robbed him of his choice so many times in their brief acquaintance, it would be wrong to show up and act like nothing happened. She needed to allow him to invite her back in or send her away.

God, she hoped he invited her in.

It took three nights, but eventually, she saw headlights. Smoothing down the hem of her black tank top over her skinny jeans, she took a cleansing breath and stepped out into the middle of the road.

She had no doubt it was him, the cautious pace slicing through the night at exactly the same time as before. She could even tell the precise moment he spotted her in the bright lights of his high beams, the luxury car swerving slightly into the other lane. It was less than a minute later he rolled to a stop about ten feet away.

Then, nothing. The silence of a door not opening was deafening.

Maybe this was her answer.

She wished she could see past the glare and through the windshield. Look into his eyes at least once more and tell him everything she figured out over the past couple of months. The same things he had tried to say to her before he left.

Finally, a lifetime later, she heard the door open. She felt every footfall in the far reaches of her heart, each measured step in time with the rapid beating in her chest. She was lightheaded with longing, her eyes frantically trying to adjust between light and dark and make out Killian’s beloved form in the nighttime.

“Fancy meeting you here, Captain.”

There was another long pause and then he stepped into the narrow, car-sized area of light. He was even more handsome than she remembered. The static, professionally staged photo on the website never did him justice in the first place. “Emma, when did you get back?”

She heard the question for what it really was, ‘Emma, why are you here?’

Smiling past her nerves, she took a step closer. He looked like the proverbial deer in the highlights, like any sudden movement would cause him to turn tail and run. She did this to him. It was her fault her cocky Prince Charming looked spooked. “A couple of days ago. I need a ride to Misthaven. I’m late for an appointment.”

“An appointment? It’s almost midnight. I’m getting the strangest sense of deja vu.”

“You see, there’s a man. He’s actually the best thing that ever happened to me. But I felt like I didn’t deserve him, like I didn’t deserve anyone, really, so I ran. Several times. And even though I pushed him away and ruined everything, I need to let him know that he was never nothing. His feelings were never nothing. As a matter of fact, he’s come to mean everything to me, and I wanted to tell him I was sorry it took me so long to say it.”

Taking a step forward, he stood nearly toe to toe with her. His hair was sticking out at odd angles, his face twisted in thought, hands hanging in fists at his side. “Is that so?”

Reaching out, she placed her hands on his shoulders and she looked up into his eyes, whispering, “I’ve loved you since you let me have all the bites with whipped cream. I was just too scared to admit it.”

She waited when all she wanted to do was pull him closer and bury her face in his neck, inhale his intoxicating scent again and taste his skin. She had said what she needed to say, but it didn’t give her the right to waltz back into his life if that wasn’t what he wanted. “Killian, I—“

Her words were cut off by his abrupt kiss. He grabbed her like he was drowning and she was the only thing that could save him. His chest heaving and lips brutal in their quest. He hitched her up slightly, settling her against the hood of his car. He half leaned over her as he continued to explore every neglected inch of her mouth, every lonely corner of her soul. When he finally broke off his passionate embrace, his breathing was ragged and his voice harsh with emotion. “I have big plans for you and whipped cream, love.”

Laughter filled the inches between them, his forehead resting against hers. Peppering his face with soft kisses, her fingertips tracing the line of his jaw, she teased, “Prove it.”

—

The trail of clothes leading to the bedroom remained untouched for days. They survived the early days of their relationship on pancakes, whipped cream, and borrowed shirts.

Over the years, people asked her when she knew Killian Jones was the one. Her answer was always the same.

At the stroke of midnight.

Every night for the rest of their lives.

Note:

Midnight — Info about the movie

@teamhook @kmomof4 @jrob64 @stahlop @xarandomdreamx @xsajx @motherkatereloyshipper @klynn-stormz

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peachtree-dish · 3 years

Text

A Te Che Sei Il Mio Grande Amore Ch. 4 Di Volta in Volta

Luglio 20, 1969

“Commander Neil Armstrong is making his way out of the spacecraft and is taking his first steps down the ladder to the moon’s surface. In mere moments he will be the first man to step foot on the moon…” The voice was narrated through the tv screen as the events of the first human moon landing played out in front of nearly the entire village. Those who did not have access to radio or television were crammed into their neighbor’s houses to either listen or watch on the small television screens. The usual Sunday atmosphere had been disrupted by the whole world waiting with bated breath as history played out in their living rooms. Luca sat between Giulia and Alberto in front of Massimo’s secondhand TV, fighting the urge to press himself against the class so as not to miss a single detail. He hadn’t slept a wink the night before because he had stayed up listening as the Apollo 11 crew had taken their last orbit around the moon before landing their naveta spaziale on the surface. Behind him, his family was sitting at the dinner table tightly pressed between Massimo and the several cats that had found some form of purchase on his broad shoulders. Luca had not thought it possible, but Massimo’s eyebrows seemed to be furrowed even deeper than usual; they were the only indication that he seemed just as anxious as everyone else.

Luca’s eyes widened as the man on the screen as the astronaut hopped onto the last ring of the ladder, his hands gripping tightly to it as if he were afraid to float away into the expanse of space. Beside him, Alberto squinted closely at the emerging astronaut and rubbed his chin.

“Their suits kinda look like that old diving suit, no?” he muttered in Luca’s ear. Guilia loudly shushed him from Luca’s other side, promptly cutting off any further commentary. Instead of vocalizing his agreement he instead gave an energetic nod to Alberto before the older boy could swat Giulia’s arm in revenge.

“I can see my footprints as I step away from the spacecraft…the surface appears to be covered in… fine, sandy particles…” For one moment, Luca pictured himself bounding across the surface of the moon, the old diving helmet pressed tightly to his shoulders, and space sand floating behind him. He could almost feel himself levitating away from the worn, wool rug of Massimo’s small kitchen, thousands of stars floating above him.

Giulia gasped, startling Luca back to reality, “He’s letting go of the spacecraft!” Sure enough, Armstrong’s grainy figure on the screen was slowly letting go of the ladder and stepping into the unknown of space. In a moment of trepidation, Luca reached wrapped his hand around Guilia’s as they waited for the next few moments to pass. He could hear Alberto inhale sharply beside him, assuming he was just as anxious as the rest of them.

“That’s one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind,” in one moment the entire world released its breath with a cheer.

Massimo slammed his fist down on the table with a shout of “Vittoria” ringing through the house. His outburst startled the cats into a hissing mess and Nonna Paguro slapped his arm with her cane, claiming a premature heart attack. Around them adults and children were shouting and cheering, many even taking to the streets, their cacophony mixing with the howling of dogs. Giulia hurriedly leaned over to wrap her arms around Alberto and Luca’s shoulders, relieved giggles echoing in their ears as she rushed over to embrace Massimo in earnest. Luca grinned, sparing one last glance at the screen as the rest of the astronauts filed out of the ship, before turning excitedly to Alberto. Without a moment’s hesitation, Luca embraced him, only realizing mere seconds after that his hand was still entangled with someone else’s. At his friend’s stiff posture and flushed face, Luca’s excitement died only to be replaced with confusion. He rocked back onto his heels, one hand draped awkwardly around Alberto’s neck and Alberto’s left hand resting on his hip.

“Alberto?” he breathed, forcing the older boy to peer at him as he pulled away. Alberto blinked rapidly, his hand clenching and unclenching around Luca’s and his green eyes looking desperately around the room. He licked his lips and did not fail to notice Alberto’s eyes following the movement. He opened his mouth to say something before a loud crash broke the atmosphere between them. Machiavelli’s son, Bocelli, had become spooked in the excitement and had managed to knock over Massimo’s favorite tea kettle along with a few teacups. While the kettle had merely been bumped from the impact, three cups had met a disastrous end on the floorboards.

Amidst shouts and curses from the adults, Alberto had firmly and quickly untangled himself from Luca, rushing to the pantry to remove a broom and pan for the mess. Lorenzo was trying his best to scoop the remaining cats into his arms so they wouldn’t get hurt and Daniela was simply yelling at them all to move. Massimo was cradling the kettle with his arm, gently checking for any damage while Giulia remained unseen in the mess, her eyes flitting between Luca and Alberto who still hadn’t said anything. On the carpet, Luca watched as if frozen, unsure of why he felt like crying.

The days following the moon landing and the Apollo 11 crew’s return to earth found Giulia and Alberto working overtime to fill the town’s orders. At least, that was what Luca was telling himself. Since their awkward moment on the rug, Alberto hadn’t spent as much time around Luca, instead of spending hours out fishing and hauling the day’s catch through the streets. His conversations with them would always be clipped, though not unfriendly and he always found a reason not to spend time with them. Giulia, feeling as if she were walking on eggshells, tried to ask Alberto what was going on while they delivered, but he simply brushed off her inquiries with a forced grin. In her opinion, his lies reeked more than days old trash left in the heat. Her frustration grew to an extreme one evening when Alberto bid them both a halfhearted goodnight from the dinner table, claiming he would be staying up later than usual to fill in the finance charts. Ignoring Giulia’s glare and Luca’s hurt expression, he pulled out the counting charts Massimo had been filling out the previous afternoon and began adding the day’s earnings.

“I think he really does hate me,” Luca admitted to Giulia once they passed the archway leading to the docks.

“Don’t be ridicolo, I think he’s just... acting weird?” She floundered, unable to come up with an acceptable response.

“Oh, really, Giulia?!” Luca burst, his frustration surging, “He's not the one who acted weird, I was! I messed up, and now he can’t stand to be around me. I disgust him!” He kicked at a pebble, his expression strained. Luca tried to inhale deeply to calm himself, but the lump in his throat wouldn’t allow it. He turned back to a solemn Giulia, his voice choked. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” To his mounting horror, large drops of water began to spill down his cheeks and before Giulia could even reach out to offer comfort, the teen was tearing down the cobblestones leading to the water's edge. Giulia’s calls were lost in the water as it enveloped him, his salty tears mixing with the sea. He swam for a long time, wanting to avoid his own home for as long as possible. He couldn’t stop thinking about Alberto’s hands on his hip or how it felt to look down into his eyes. Had they not been interrupted, what would have happened? And then he remembered how Alberto had looked frantic, almost afraid of what Luca was going to do. With a half-formed snarl, Luca dove towards the ocean floor. Reaching a shallow cave, he sat down and curled in on himself while his stomach heaved, and his tail thrashed.

“Stupido, stupido, stupido, stupido…” he sobbed over and over, unable to silence Bruno in his mind.

Giulia marched into the house fuming, her eyes landing on Alberto who stared at the wall in front of him, his expression blank. Wordlessly, she picked up the discarded papers on the table and smacked them across the back of his stupid, curly head.

“OW! What the-” Alberto spun around to glare at her.

“Non posso crederti,” she seethed, her hands shaking.

“I don’t have time for your hormonal dramatics, Gi,” Alberto deadpanned, moving to stand and escape from the redhead’s wrath.

“Don’t you dare,” she pushed him back into the chair, her brute strength surprising him. Small as she may be, Giulia was still Massimo’s daughter.

“How can you both keep hurting each other like this? You’re friends, no? Start acting like it!” She flailed her hands hysterically in such a way that Alberto almost wanted to laugh.

“We are friends, tutto bene,” He argued, inwardly wincing at the lie.

“Then why does Luca always look on the verge of tears after being around you? What happened, fratello? You haven’t been the same since the moon landing.” Giulia stared him down with both fists resting on her hips. She rarely referred to him as her brother, and when she did it was because she was trying to show how much she actually cared. That was the one thing Giulia and Alberto always agreed on, they hated to show feelings. Alberto could feel the anxiety he felt on that day building again inside him. He hadn’t meant to make it worse; he was going to make a joke about Luca being scared, but then he had grabbed Alberto’s hand. They touched each other easily all the time, frequent in their affection and friendly nature, but Luca had never held Alberto’s hand like that. Alberto hadn’t wanted to let go. It was just a harsh reminder that eventually he would have to let go of Luca forever. He swallowed thickly and peered at Giulia.

“I’m not going to get in the way of Luca following his dreams,” He said slowly, trying to get his friend to understand. “Luca is meant for grander things than whatever I had planned, I’m just helping him realize that.” Giulia stared at him for a moment before pinching the bridge of her nose and screwing her eyes shut.

“Oh, Dio, I’m surrounded by idiots.”

“Giulia, listen,” He began only to be interrupted by Giulia holding up her hand.

“Silenzio, Bruno. I know you don’t believe that. Luca wouldn’t have any of his dreams without you, and if he were to lose you, those dreams would fade.” Alberto shrank into his seat, not wanting to look her in the eye. With a defeated sigh, the young girl sat beside him.

“You’ve never told us about how you ended up alone, and I’m not going to ask you to tell me,” she interrupted him before he could speak. He swallowed his objection and let her continue, “but I wish you could understand that we’re not like your old family. Berto,” she reached out and held one of his hands in both of hers, “we will never abandon you, and neither will Luca. But I am afraid that if you continue to act this way, he’ll think you abandoned him.”

Alberto’s head snapped up and he gazed fiercely at Giulia, reminding her of the first time he revealed his sea monster form to her.

“I would never abandon him.”

She stared back coolly and pointed at the bracelet on his wrist, “Then prove him wrong.” With that she stood and marched upstairs, her steps sounding with finality. Alberto watched her empty seat for a few moments, his ears roaring with the pounding of his heart. Before he could reconsider his actions, the chair scraped harshly along the floorboards, and he was rushing towards the warm ocean.

“Luca!” He called desperately into the waves, not caring if any of the other sea folk were sleeping. His shouts startled a school of pandoras swimming by, and they rushed past him as fast as possible. Alberto sped towards Luca’s home, his heart thundering as he reached Luca’s window. Peering in he found Nonna Paguro sleeping on her side of the room, her snores rattling through the water. To his growing anxiety, he found Luca’s bed empty and so turned towards the island where he had often hidden. Crashing clumsily upon the rocky shore, Alberto called out to the tower, its windows and roof dark and unresponsive.

If he looked too closely at the darkened mouth of the tower, he’d see a small child, crying anxiously for his papa to come home. Pushing the dark memories away, Alberto took deep breaths in an attempt to remain calm. Feeling the anxiety in his chest close to bursting, he dove back into the darkened waters and shouted again.

“Luca! I’m sorry, please talk to me!” He swam frantically, his gaze twisting in every direction, hoping to catch a glance of blue. He swam farther out to the ocean, the fields of seaweed sloping into rocky, sand-filled terrain.

“I’m s-sorry,” He gasped, bubbles escaping his mouth and floating towards the moonlit surface. He felt his hope slipping away with them when he heard a hiccupped cry.

“Alberto?” Luca’s voice was raw from his emotional outburst, but it was still the most beautiful sound Alberto had ever heard. Twisting around with enough force to nearly snap his neck, Alberto found Luca peering out from underneath an overhanging rock bank. He felt his own sob of relief escape his throat before he swam down to his friend. The older boy floated in front of Luca, unsure of how he would react.

“Is everyone okay, you sound upset,” Luca’s eyes were red-rimmed, and they pinned Alberto to the spot with their concern. Alberto wanted to slap himself; Luca was obviously hurting yet here he was making sure Alberto and everyone else was alright. How selfish can you be, Alberto?

“No, everyone’s fine, but I’ve been an idiota, Luca. We only have days left before you go back to Genoa, and I’ve spent the past two weeks ignoring you because…” He stopped as he felt his fear resurfacing. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“But that doesn’t make se-”

“I know, that’s why I said I’m an idiota,” he chuckled drily at Luca’s confusion. “You got me off the island, but there are days I feel like I’m drowning.” He explained patiently, “There are so many new things here and I feel like I’m always behind while you’re always ahead.” He swallowed, watching as Luca still looked confused. “I feel like one day you’re going to realize that I’m slowing you down and I don’t want to get in the way of you becoming who you’re meant to be, even if that means I get left behind.”

Luca’s eyes widened and his mouth fell open in shock, “Alberto, there is no dream worth having if you’re not in it.” Alberto stood stunned before him, his mouth had gone shockingly dry considering the saltwater in it.

“Caro,” he whispered, pulling Luca into his arms, too overwhelmed to finish speaking.

“I thought I offended you,” Luca admitted softly, his voice humming against Alberto’s collarbone, “I thought I had made you uncomfortable, when in reality I thought I grabbed Giulia’s hand, I promise.” Alberto felt his stomach drop out from him. He badly wanted to contradict Luca, tell him he had wanted more than anything to grab his hand whenever he could. But he wouldn’t, his fear wouldn’t let him.

“It’s okay, you didn’t offend me. If anything, I can’t blame you. No one can resist my good looks and charm,” He joked, laughing a bit too loudly to be considered natural. Luca snorted and pushed away from him, rolling his eyes.

“You wish, Berto,”

I really do, Alberto thought helplessly.

“Thank you for coming after me, again.” Luca laughed exasperatedly, hiding his face in his hands with a groan. “Giulia probably thinks I’m the most dramatic idiot in all of Italy.”

Alberto shrugged and glanced to the side, “Eh, you’d be surprised, she has her own moments. Must be an Italian thing.” Luca glared at him halfheartedly through his claws.

“Do you wanna head back to your house, or…” Alberto motioned his head back towards Porto Rosso. Luca smiled and motioned back to him.

“Wherever you want, I’ll follow you.”

“Well, it’s about time. I’ve only been waiting for over a year,” Alberto teased, swimming back towards the shining lights of the port town, his best friend’s laughter ringing behind him.

31 Agosto 1969

The last weeks of summer came and went with the laughter of children and a full season of fishing; having decided that winning the Porto Rosso Cup last year had been enough of an adventure, Giulia, Luca, and Alberto had instead spent time behind the scenes helping with the race alongside Signora Marsigliese. The woman had been extra grateful for the help and had run the three of them nearly ragged with preparations. With no Ercole in sight, the race had been far more enjoyable for all the town’s children, and even more so for their families.

Alberto volunteered to keep watch in the bay as the kids swam, already used to having lifeguard duties. He made sure to help anyone who got stuck or might have struggled especially hard. It made Luca’s heart especially warm to watch Alberto interact with the smaller children, encouraging them and even allowing the smallest bambina to latch onto his tail when she got too tired to swim back to shore. This year, Daniela and Lorenzo actually helped by offering water to kids as they struggled up the hill, this time without threatening to dump it on their heads.

In the end, the race was one by a brother and sister from the Ricci family who both were so exhausted they could barely keep the trophy held up between them. The end of the season also meant that Alberto would be working in his many diverse side jobs once it got too cold.

“Do you actually like working in la panetteria? Luca asked him from where he sat on the floor packing his things away.

“It’s not bad,” Alberto shrugged nonchalantly, “it was kinda stressful at first, but Signora Aurora is really nice, and I don’t make nearly as many mistakes as Ciccio.”

“I don’t think anyone could make as many mistakes as him, Ciccio’s a league unto his own,” Luca muttered absently, comparing two different books in his hands. In Alberto’s opinion, they looked the exact same.

“After the weather gets colder, I start baking in the mornings at the Pasticcini, and then Signore Ciano has me help him and Guido in their garage. I offered to help Padre D’uva at the church, but” he shrugged again with a half-smile, “babies don’t really like getting baptized by sea monsters.” Luca snorted and rolled his eyes at the image of a scaled Alberto trying to dunk a screaming child.

“I guess your smile and good charms don’t work on everybody, amico.”

Alberto flipped upside down on the bed and bit his lip suggestively and waggled his eyebrows, “Just you then?” Luca paused a moment to look at him and his gaze was almost enough to make Alberto stop. The young monster tilted his head to the side, considering Alberto’s features.

“Eh, could use some work,” He answered finally turned his head back to his bag, trying to stifle his laughter as Alberto made a face.

The sound of knuckles rapping on the doorframe causes them both to look up. Giulia leaned against the chipped white paint and smiled warmly, “Mind if I come in, ragazzi?” Alberto happily scooted to the side, ultimately remaining in his upside-down state.

“You’re not done packing?” Giulia asked incredulously. Luca only pouted from the floor.

“I can’t decide which books to take,” He ran a hand through his already stressed curls, the motion capturing Alberto’s attention even from his angle.

“You’re such a nerd, you know that right,” She ruffled his hair affectionately.

“As a nerd, it is, in fact, my job to know that, Giulietta.” The brunette stuck his tongue out defiantly before tossing the books back onto their pile. With a groan he stood and stretched his back, the muscles popping into place. Throwing himself on the bed he looked up at the ceiling and said, “I can’t believe summer’s already over, I feel like we just got back!” He flopped back down, his arm thumping Alberto’s stomach.

“Hey, attento!” Alberto swore. He swung himself back up and flopped backward, tugging Giulia along with him. Luca patted his stomach by way of apology before sighing dramatically.

“Why doesn’t school go by this fast?”

“Because then more people would enjoy it,” Giulia sighed from the other side of Alberto, who remained oddly quiet. He turned his head from one side to the other, watching how the late afternoon sun turned Giulia’s hair a violent copper and how it made Luca’s eyes seem molten. Suddenly reaching out, he tugged both close to him and said, “Vi amo, ragazzi.” Luca and Giulia shared a look of befuddlement.

“…Okay?” They replied in unison

“Learn as much as you can and then tell me everything in your letters, okay? Just like before. Except for this time, I’m going to learn new things, too. That way, we can all share what we learned next summer.” He grinned proudly at the thought.

Giulia sat up and cocked an eyebrow at him. “Are you feeling okay, pazzo? Do you need a doctor or something?”

“No, I’m serious. Giulia, you remember what you asked us at the beginning of summer?” She cocked her head to the side before nodding.

“I asked what you wanted to be when we got older.”

“Esattamente! And I have no idea, but I want to find out.” He looked at both Luca and Giulia as they processed his words. Luca was the first to move, wrapping his arms tighter around Alberto’s middle and grinning into his shoulder.

“I think that’s a great idea, caro. I’m proud of you.” Giulia nodded in agreement as she settled back down.

“Even if you don’t figure it out this year, or the next, just goditi il viaggio, like my mama always says. Life is about discovery, if you can’t enjoy it, learn from it.” Alberto hummed contently in response.

“Your mom sounds smart,” he mused.

“She is,” Luca and Giulia answered together, causing the trio to burst into a fit of giggles.

Later that evening, when Massimo climbed upstairs to check on the children, he found Giulia, Alberto, and Luca curled around one another on Giulia’s bed. Alberto had both arms wrapped protectively around both his daughter and Luca while they snored away peacefully. Machiavelli waltzed between his legs before alighting himself upon the bed and curling up next to Alberto’s head. He softly chided the cat to remain quiet and leave the children to their dreams. Without waking them, he softly tucked them in with the blanket from Alberto’s bed before walking out of the room. As he closed the door, he chanced one last glance at his little family and allowed himself a small smile. He could not wait for summer to return.

#luca pixar #luberto #luca paguro #alberto scorfano #luca fanfiction #giulia is tired of this sh!t #giulia marcovaldo #massimo marcovaldo #massimo is the best father #a te che sei il mio grande amore #they share one brain cell #machiavelli #found family #queer fanfiction #queer romance #young romance #friendships #questioning sexuality

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thinking1bee · 3 years

Text

Changed Part 2

Requested by Anonymous

Parings: Lena Luthor x Reader

Tags: Violence, Angst, Mentions of Death, PTSD and Anxiety, War, Fluff, Humor

Everything Taglist: @sammy90682 @nobody13 @owloftheshadows @captain-josslett @camslightstories @worldovart @finleyfray @acertainredhead

Getting reacclimated to civilian life was harder than you anticipated. The fear of being attacked when no one was going to assault you was unlike anything that you’d ever experience. It was like hearing whispers in your brain, telling you to constantly be on guard no matter how safe your environment was. Any loud noice was like a bomb. Any bright light was like a flash bang. It was hard living in fear, living on the defensive when there wasn’t a need to be. Lena, though, was with you every step of the way. There were days where she spent the night with you in your apartment when you asked, and then when you needed your space, she would always reassure you that she was just a phone call away. You didn’t know why Lena stuck around through all the anger and irritability. You don’t know why she stuck through the random bursts of rage or the flinching whenever she got nearby. You didn’t know why she would even bother dealing with someone so broken. She would always say that it was because she loved you, but you knew that there was only so much one person could take. You hated being fragmented, your shards jagged and strewn in scattered places that you never seemed to find. You hated that the continued therapy sessions that you were taking weren’t helping as fast as you thought they would. You were as beaten as the day you were airlifted from the battlefield, and every inch of you despised it.

Falling asleep was a nightmare and staying asleep was damn near impossible. You could never stay asleep for long, no matter how many drugs you were prescribed or how often you took them. Memories of dead bodies littering the desert sand had you waking up in a puddle of sweat every time and you shivered as their lifeless faces haunted the shadows of your mind. Every time you woke up gasping from a horrible dream, your first instinct was always to check your surroundings, to make sure that you weren’t in the hands of the enemy or worse, surrounded by the bodies of your platoon. Your heart would be in your throat, beating hard and only fueling the adrenaline you felt, and the moment that you realized that you were all alone, you would cry. Hot tears would spill down your face because in addition to the fear, guilt would sweep over you in strong waves, reminding you that this was your punishment for surviving what others had not. You would cry and cry and cry, until you couldn’t anymore. Then you would isolate yourself, tending to your emotion and mental wounds by yourself. You didn’t want to be seen like this. It was a disgrace.

Lena was always the one to keep you from falling too deep into the rabbit hole. She always made sure that you didn’t turn to vices to try and numb the pain. She always made sure that you weren’t a danger to yourself. As a girlfriend, she took on more responsibility than what was fair, and you tried to keep that in mind. Never had you wanted to be a burden nor take advantage of her, but she was always there, making sure that you were well taken care of. Even now, she was opening all the blinds to let in the sunlight, and you watched as the setting sun illuminated the dark living room. Lena was off from work and quite early given the nights you know she’ll would put it weren’t it for you, and even as she gave you a reassuring smile, you still couldn’t help the regret that you felt for interrupting her life.

“Hey Y/n, when’s the last time you showered?” she asked, and you furrowed your eyebrows as you tried to think hard. You couldn’t remember honestly, another delightful symptom of the PTSD. You remembered the times when you could recall almost anything you wanted. Now it was like the hard drive of what was left of your mind would get wiped frequently and it sucked. Lena took your silence as an answer and she leaned down slowly, as to not spook you, and kissed your forehead sweetly.

“Why don’t you get cleaned up while I get dinner started?” she suggested, and you nodded.

You got up from the couch and made your way to the bathroom, and pausing before going inside, looked at her.

“Lena, if you ever decided that you didn’t want to stick around anymore, I would understand.”

Lena smiled but still shook her head. It was something you said to her rather often, your way of reminding her that she had a way out, but her answer was always the same. She would just smile and shake her head. You’re slow to get undressed. It was your least favorite part about showering. The mirror above the sink had newspaper taped over it so you couldn’t see your reflection. The scars on your body made you hate the skin you were in and every time you saw them, you would dissolve into tears. They were ugly, another token from war, and there were few days where you were apathetic towards them, and then there were many, many, days when you never wanted to see them again. You hid every inch of your skin behind sweats and long sleeved shirts. As far as you were concerned, if you didn’t see them then they didn’t exist. Except that line of thinking never worked when you had to shower. You closed your eyes as you nervously undressed and you moved as fast as you could into the hot, cascading water of your shower. You let the droplets wash over you. Their warmth chafed away the bitter cold that seemed to settle into your bones as of late and you closed your eyes as she heat warmed your finger and toes. You let your mind go blank and took several deep breaths on and out. You were doing good, and almost relaxed, until you became hyper aware of the water hitting your skin, and the more you focused on the droplets, the more it felt like grains of sand against you. The next thing you knew, you were back in the desert, and the steam from the shower felt like sweltering desert heat against your brow. Shadows floated behind closed eye lids and you forced them open right before the bodies could come into view, and right before you almost vomited on your feet. You threw yourself out of the shower, emptying the contents of your stomach into the toilet, and laid there panting as the stress fueled adrenaline continued to make your world sway chaotically. Puddles of water soaked the bathroom floor as you swallowed down gulps of air in attempt to slow your heart. You couldn’t do this. It was a bad idea, so after getting on shaky feet, you turned the shower off and got dressed as fast as you could.

You returned to the kitchen to find that Lena made homemade chicken soup, and though you weren’t hungry, you forced yourself to take a few bites. Though Lena wasn’t trying to make it obvious, you could tell that every so often she would steal glasses at the bowl between your hands to make sure that you were eating properly. She knew that you wouldn’t finish the whole thing, but as long as you finished most of it, she considered it a victory. After a while, you slowed down before stopping altogether, and the soup settled heavily in your stomach.

“Good job, baby girl,” Lena said genuinely as she placed a warm hand on top of yours. You smiled sheepishly at her gentle offering of praise and you helped her to clean up. It was dark now, and you dreaded going to sleep. Twisting your fingers nervously together, you faced Lena who turned to look at you.

“Lena, do you mind staying with me tonight? I don’t want to be alone.”

She gave you her signature bright smile and nodded. “Of course.”

It was only a 20 minutes later when Lena had changed into her pajamas and you were snuggled against her under the blankets on your bed. Lena held you close to her, your back against her front, as her arms wrapped around you with warmth and security. With her here, your eyes drifted close instantly as you floated down the lazy river of unconsciousness.

***

Lena was jarred awake. The feeling of you struggling within her hold had her eyes flying open and her body out of the bed in an instant. She could see how your eyes moved wildly behind closed eyelids and how taut your body was. You mumbled something before immediately gasping and swiping aggressively at your arms. Fire. Lena knew immediately that you were having a nightmare. You relived the same scene again and again in your head and it was always when the vehicle blew up with you in it, and you were engulfed in fire.

The last time that she tried to wake you up, she had done so forcefully on accident. She was spurred on by her fear of what was happening. The ending result had ended up with you putting her in a chokehold on accident. You didn’t forgive yourself for days. So, she tried a different method that she had found on the internet. With a clear and calm voice, she called your name.

“Y/n?”

You didn’t respond immediately. Your head jerked to the side as you continued to put out the flames that weren’t there.

“Y/n, I need you to wake up.”

You woke up gasping, your eyes searching your surroundings subconsciously for threats as you immediately threw off your sweatshirt in fear.

“Y/n, you’re home. There’s no fire and it’s just you and me. You’re safe,” Lena said over and over. She repeated it as many times as needed until she saw you calm down a little.

You were suffocating. You could taste the smoke in your mouth, the arid atmosphere crisp and dry and so very, very hot. You could smell burning flesh and what you wanted more than anything was to run. You didn’t care where. You just wanted to run away from the fire and the burning pain in your body. But you listened to Lena’s level voice. You let it ground you and you hung on to every word. Her promise that everything was safe was what calmed you down. You were safe. You weren’t being dragged from the burning remains of your vehicle. You had fallen asleep in your girlfriend’s arms.

While your breathing never slowed, you did eventually stop swiping at your arms and your gasps turned into sobs. Lena watched you, her heart aching for you, as you folded in on yourself and hid your face in hands.

“Can I hold you?” she asked, and you nodded frantically as you shuddered hard. You felt the bed dip, followed by arms encircling you softly. She kissed you tenderly and you buried your face into her neck.

“I kept seeing them!” you wailed. “I saw all of them. It’s was nothing but faces and fire, and they were grabbing me, pulling me in. I couldn’t fight them!”

Lena was on the verge of crying as she continued to hug you close. Snapping you out of a nightmare was the worse, but more damage would have been done if she hadn’t woken you up at all. Her hand rubbed your back soothingly as you cried it out. You were so scared. The fire felt like hands that were pulling you straight to hell, and no matter how hard you fought, you were powerless against the force that kept dragging you. The faces were what always lingered. Grotesque and grisly images of your fallen friends tortured you in your sleep, and every time you saw them, they would manage to always look worse than the previous night.

You cried until nothing more came out, until there were no more tears, no more gasps, and when it all finally stopped, you felt numb. Lena released you to look at your body. You were drenched in sweat. Droplets if it trickled down the side of your head and you shivered as your undershirt clung wetly to your skin.

“Let’s get you out of these clothes.”

Lena helped you change, and she helped you gently to drink some water. You gulped it down, sighing in relief as the dryness in your throat went away. You settled back into the bed with her by your side, but you were still too on edge to close your eyes. Sleep wouldn’t be coming soon so you lie there as Lena cuddled you close.

“Thanks for being here,” you whispered, and you felt her kiss the back of your head.

“Of course. I’m not going anywhere.”

#supergirl fanfic #lena luthor #reader insert #violence #angst #death #PTSD #anxiety #fluff #humor

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sokkas-honour · 3 years

Note

for the spotify wrapped writing i'll say number 4 and sokka?

omg this one was so fun to write! ty for requesting!

dream boy - modern!sokka x reader

pairing : modern! sokka x reader

wc: 1.7k including lyrics

notes/warnings: going off of the hc that sokka is a baseball boy from my girl @draqondance and it’s just unedited but enjoy !!

part 1.5 | part 2 | part 3

taglist (send an ask to be added!!): @draqondance @biqherosix @missmorosis

sometimes i think i see your ghost, in passing hallways, the staircase to my apartment,

the clock couldn’t seem to hit three fast enough, the sun was shining outside but everything about your seventh period math class just made you gloomy. you tapped your foot on the ground, anxiously waiting for the final bell to ring so you could get out of the boredom that was calculus. you sighed and rested on your hand that was on your desk and tried to see if you could understand what your teacher was saying but you’d spaced out too long to even know what the hell he was talking about.

with another sigh, you slightly turned you head. you were seated at the back of the class, meaning you could see a part of the empty hallway since the door was open and there he was, the beautiful water tribe baseball player. your heart rate picked up as he simply passed in the hallway though he seemed to catch your staring because he backed right back into your line of view and smirked at you.

his flirty actions imply earned a playful eye roll from you. you watched your friend laugh before waving goodbye and continued on his way knowing he’d be able to speak to you after school anyway.

god did you love that stupid boy. seeing him, even for a split second, singlehandedly made this boring period your favorite of the day. his smile, his dorkiness, his horrible jokes, just sokka in general made your heart race at a speed that was practically impossible to slow down.

i accidentally self impose, bashful thoughts, careless wants, emotional involvement,

the baseball game ended and your school won 7-4, with your best friend pitching his best game yet, you couldn’t contain your excitement. as soon as sokka stepped off the field, you rushed out of your seat to go congratulate him outside of the dugout. your whole friend group couldn’t make the trip to the away game but you had promised him that you’d never miss a game when he got accepted into the team freshman year and so far, you’d never missed one. wether you were swamped with work or sick, you always found a way to sit on those bleachers cheering him on.

“sokka! that was your best game of the season!” you exclaimed as soon as you saw come out and ran to him. he was smiling that adorable stupid smile he always did and rushed to join your halfway.

“i know! did you see how i curved that ball on the last guy! he never saw it coming!” he excitedly retold you the final play that you’d just seen, pride shining from his eyes and grin.

“yeah! sucker didn’t even know what hit him!” you replied matching his energy and he just engulfed in you in a hug out of excitement. to your dismay, he quickly retracted it.

“sorry! i’m just so excited!” he apologised though you didn’t mind at all, hell, you’re disappointed he didn’t let it last longer as you craved affection from sokka that was anything but platonic or initiated by you, how you wished the hug lingered.

“sokka! you don’t have to apologise! i’m just as excited as you are!” you reassured, your cheeks hurting from smiling so much as you placed both your hands on his arms to emphasise how unbothered you were by his actions.

“okayyy. can we go get sea prunes? pretty please?” the pitcher begged, looking down at you with his signature puppy dog eyes that made you practically weak in the knees, he knew you’d never say no to them.

you've got my heart bursting at the seams, maybe you're the boy from my dreams,

most people only saw you and sokka as two inseparable best friends, two peas in a pod, practically attached at the hip, and they wouldn’t be wrong. sokka and you had been best friends ever since kindergarten when he accidentally hit you in the head with a snowball during your recess.

you’d always been close friends but ever since highschool started, you’d fallen for your best friend and you’d fallen hard. his adorably cute smile, his adorably cute eyes, his adorably cute ponytail, his adorably cute jokes, just his adorably cute self was enough to make you long for anything more than a simple close friendship with the water tribe boy.

you’d seem to have done a pretty good job at hiding it as none of your friends ever picked up on it. sokka and you had always have a pretty touchy friendship, you’d hug all the time, you’d place your head in his lap, he’d lay his head on your shoulder, but none it had any ulterior motive. so when zuko confronted you about it you were surprised, he was the one to find out about it, not toph, not even katara, the said crush’s sister, no it was zuko.

zuko seemed to have seen right through your lies about your lack of feelings for the baseball player which led you to just dumping all the reasons that he made your heart put a race care to shame. you told him about the daydreaming that occurred whenever someone would point out that you would both be a cute couple, you told him about the monthly dreams you’d have about you finally confessing your emotions that were always reciprocated.

zuko was kind and always listened but always took the oppurtiny to tease you about it when you were alone.

if you're gonna love me make sure that you do it right, i’ll be under your window in the moonlight,

oh i tend to keep my heart locked water-tight, all you gotta do is meet me after, meet me after midnight.

‘y/nnnnnnn, meet me by our favorite tree like at around midnight. i need to tell you something important.’

you’d been doing your english homework late one night when your phone buzzed with a message from the boy that made you swoon. your heartrate would always pick up a bit when he would send you a message but the content written made it race even more. you quickly replied to agree to meet him.

you grabbed your coat and your shoes and quietly left the house, making sure not to wake your sleeping parents. once outside, you took the ten minute walk to an old willow that stood about halfway between the water tribe sibling’s house and yours. you had often spent afternoons with the two of them just laying in the ground and watched the leaves around them slowly move with the wind.

when highschool started, you often found yourself throwing a rock or so at sokka’s window when it would be late in an attempt to get him to sneak out with you for walks under the beautiful moon. one night you almost got caught so you both agreed to simply text and agree to meet at that nostalgic willow.

upon arriving and passing through the weeping willow’s leaves you saw a figure leaning against it’s trunk. you were able to recognise the boy thanks to the light from his phone that he was scrolling mindlessly on.

“hey sokka.” you made your presence none in a rather soft way, not wanting to spook him.

“hey y/n, thanks for coming.” he looked up and smiled at you and put his phone back into his jacket pocket. your eyes had long acclimated to the darkness and were able to see him sit on the ground and pat the spot next to him to which you happily obliged.

“so what did you want to say.” you asked once you sat next to him.

“okay well i wanted your help. how do i ask a girl out?” his questions came out of nowhere and took you aback, you feared the direction that the conversation would go in but you shoved your emotions down. sokka may be the boy of your dreams but he was still your best friend, and you’d always want him to happy.

“well first of all, i need to know who this girl is.” you smirked, a small spark of hope as your mind rushed to not only a horrible ending to the conversation, but one that ended in a confession of feelings from both sides.

“okay well, only if you guess.” he joked which earned a playful eye roll from you before continuing. “okay well i’ve been friends with her for a while but recently, i’ve been feelings differently towards her y’a know? she’s always been there for me and always knows how to make me happy. i just feel warm and safe with her. i dont want to ruin our friendship because it means so much to me!”

“well sokka, i give up.” your spark grew at his description of the girl he was mad for, the only person you could even think of that fit the criteria was you. boy if you only you hadn’t been that naive, maybe that would’ve saved you from the heartbreak that was coming.

“okay well i thought it was obvious.” he grinned, leaning his head back in a way that told you that he was thinking of the girl who’s name you were about to know.

“it’s suki. i’m head over heels for suki.”

your heart dropped and felt like a knife had just been shoved into it, twisted, and then ripped out. no, your heart had just been broken. you felt like crying, you’d been so stupid in thinking he’d ever have any feelings for you. god it all made sense now, you’d never admit it out loud but you had been spending less and less time with sokka in the last couple of weeks. you had been spending more time with zuko where you would gush about the boy you were in love with.

if only you’d looked at the signs, he had been spending more time with the star volleyball player, the straight a student, the perfect in every way, suki. you couldn’t hold it against him, you loved her as a friend and she was impossible to not love. the words that left your mouth following his confession hurt your soul more than anytning

“you’d make a great couple sokka, you really would.”

#sokka x reader #zuko x reader #sokka #zuko #atla #atla x reader #gaang #sukka #sukki #avatar the last airbender imagine #avatar the last airbender x reader

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mssleepy876b · 3 years

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Family Ties- Chapter 4

Summary: Family can be a positive and negative force in one's life. Detective Jay Halstead knows that personally and he helps a new Intelligence family member through it.

Requested? No. But promised @resanoona that I would post mine once she posted hers.

Word count: 1622

Warnings: domestic violence, PTSD possible

A/n: Unedited Sorry for any mistakes

Family Ties Chapter 4

Jay had spent about 30 minutes on paperwork when he started to hear Brie mumble in her sleep. Getting up from his desk moving to the break room, He could see her getting restless and heard her voice increasing in volume. By the time he was at her side, Hank had exited his office hearing her start to call out. Jay knew he had to be cautious and not spook her. He gently placed his hand on her shoulder and tried to speak to her and called her name. “Brielle, wake up. It’s only a bad dream.” He said to her.

His voice filtered into her mind causing her to stir. He watched as she began to wake from the dream. She had jumped up and curled away from him as she tried to wake up from her sleep. Her fear flashed across her face until she recognized Jay and the break room in the Intelligence Unit. “Brielle, it’s me, Jay, Detective Halstead. It’s okay. You’re safe.” He said calmly to her as the others reacted to the sounds of her jumping up.

Seeing her fear, Jay motioned to keep the others behind him. She had moved to the corner of the couch and her eyes showed her fear and she moved quickly at any sign of movement. He kept the others back as she started to calm her breathing and took a few deep breaths settling her racing heart. “Jay?” she whispered.

“Yeah, I’m here, Brie. You’re safe. You are still at the 21st district with my unit. Remember you met them before you told us about what happened to you. About what Michael did.” He said calmly.

He watched as the memories resurfaced and tears began to fall from her eyes. “Why did he do this to me? What did I do to deserve this? Why?” she whispered as she broke down into tears and reached out to Jay who pulled her against his chest.

Hank motioned for the others to go back to their desks as Jay pulled her from the corner and he sat next to her on the couch. Her breathing slowed as she began to calm down. She blushed as she pushed back from Jay’s chest. “I’m so sorry. You all have done so much already, and I am creating more chaos.” She said quietly wiping the tears from her eyes as she looked down into her lap.

Jay moved her face so their eyes could meet. “Hey, listen to me. You did not do anything to deserve this, okay. Please don’t think like that. This was all his fault not yours.” She nodded as he looked into her eyes. He was not sure if she believed his words yet, but she did seem to accept the message. “Do you feel any better? You were exhausted after giving your statement.” He asked quietly checking on her.

“I am not sure. I feel sore but that is to be expected from Dr. Choi told me. I feel okay, I guess. Confused about what I am going to do next or what I can do since Michael controlled so much of everything.” She said quietly.

Jay looked at her as she began to sit back and up from her crouched position. “I know that Sergeant Voight is working on things and I have been looking over your documents. Did you know about the trust in your name?” he asked her.

She nodded, “My dad got it years ago. Said it was an old retirement pension or something, I think from his time in the CPD. He set it aside for my wedding but to access the funds both one of my parents and I have to present to sign in front of the bank managers. It made Michael furious because I always managed to avoid signing anything giving it to him.” She said.

“That is a resource we could use to help you, if you want. We’d just have to reach out to your parents.” Jay said.

“I’d worry about their safety, Jay. If Michael lashes out, they will be my weakest point. I would never want anything to happen to them.” She said quietly her voice displaying she was still tired.

He nodded and understood her concerns about her parents’ safety. “Why don’t you try to get more rest and we can see what steps we can take once you feel better.” He said helping her lay back down and curl up again with his jacket on the couch.

She grabbed his wrist as he moved to go back to his desk. “I keep remembering last night in my dreams. It is the same or worse because he mentions me getting away. I feel afraid to sleep, he’s always there. Does it ever get better? Will I ever feel free?” she said to him as his eyes met hers.

“It will take time, Brielle. But I believe it will get better and you will feel like you have your life back. Remember, you’re not alone anymore.” He said putting his hand over hers. She nodded as she released his wrist. “Try to sleep. We’ll be right outside the door, okay?” he said getting another nod from her.

Brielle woke up again to raised voices from Voight’s office. Her first thought was it was Michael and he was going to find her. Her heart started to pound in her chest as her fear filled her senses and her throat felt as if it was closing off her voice. Jay entered 1sthearing her move towards the corner of the room reacting to the loud voices. “Hey, it’s okay. Your dad found us. He and Voight are arguing right now. You’re safe, Brie.” He said placing his hand on her arm. Feeling his touch, she jumped into his arms and curled close to his chest. He felt tears begin to soak into his shirt. He just waited until she calmed herself down. After she stopped shaking, he moved her back to face him. “Are you okay? You know we won’t let anything happen right?”

She nodded. “I am sorry that I am so clingy, Jay. You have been nothing but patient, you and your unit. Thank you. At times, I feel like you are the only safe harbor in this storm that my life has become. I hate that I seem to need that. I used to be so strong on my own. My younger cousins used to look at me as an example. I am so glad they can’t see me now.” She whispered hanging her head feeling ashamed.

“Hey, you took a huge step in seeking help. You are just starting this journey to get back to yourself. It is not easy. After I came back from overseas, it took me awhile and I needed a friend who was going through the same thing to try to get back together. Then I joined the academy for CPD which gave me new focus.” He said helping her to the table trying to encourage her.

She jumped and shrieked as the door to Hank’s office slammed next to them. Jay’s face finally showed anger and frustration. He called to Hailey. “Hailey, will you come sit with Brielle, please?” he said. Hailey moved quickly, entering the break room, and took a seat next to Brielle at the table. Jay stood from his seat. He left the room and Brie could see him bang on a door near the door to the break room. Brie heard the door open and Jay’s voice was clipped. “Look I know you two have issues. But enough. She can hear you two. Her first thoughts were that he was here to find her. Can you two think about her reaction to your actions?” He said with volume increasing. “If you can’t, take it outside. She doesn’t deserve to be scared anymore.” He said turning and slamming the door behind him.

Brielle watched Jay walk away from the door and walk out of her sight. “I’m causing more problems, aren’t I?” she asked Hailey.

Hailey placed her hand over Brie’s. “No. None of this is your fault. Voight and your dad are opinionated guys. Both think they are right. I could see the anger and determination on your dad’s face when he arrived. I think he feels guilty he didn’t prevent this from happening to you, honestly.” Hailey said to her.

“Did I upset Jay, Detective Halstead?” she asked Hailey.

Hailey looked surprised at her. “No, Brie. I am 100% sure you didn’t. I think he got angry at Sergeant Voight and your dad but didn’t want that anger around you. Michael’s temper already hurt you once. He doesn’t want to see that happen again. Jay’s got an honest, good heart and he gets protective over people he thinks deserve better. It’s part of what makes him a great cop, but I think it also is what helped him be a great soldier.” Hailey said.

“Okay. I trust you Hailey. As his partner, I guess you would know him pretty well.” Brielle said as the voices in Hank’s office settled and two new women came over to Brielle.

Hailey spoke up. “Brie, you didn’t get to meet the last two members of the unit yet. This is Kim Burgess and Vanessa Rojas. They work with Jay and me. They are good cops too, but we don’t tell them that every day.” Hailey joked causing Kim to gasp and playfully push Hailey.

“Don’t listen to a word she says Brie.” Kim immediately said getting Hailey and Vanessa to laugh slightly. Brie feeling safe smiled at the warmth between the co-workers and seeming friends.

#jay halstead fanficton #jay halstead imagine #Jay Halstead imagines

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13thbaronzemo · 3 years

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THE EMPEROR'S NEW CLOTHES: PART 3

Baron Helmut Zemo/F!Reader

Rated E (Explicit)

You are the Sokovian custodian of Castle Zemo, which now belongs to the dissolved nation’s neighbors, and the baron himself has ordered you to come on vacation with him in Ibiza.

Disclaimer: This is the continuation of a fanfic written before FatWS: Ep4 aired and set up after his separation from the protagonists and while on the run from the law.

'Castle Zemo has been here since before you arrived and it will still be here when you return,' Ms. Helena assured you. Unlike yourself, the castle didn't go missing for five years. After five years of mourning, you had been the first person she witnessed return from the ether. As far as she was concerned, you were the only ghost to ever haunt those halls. She saw, through your empty eyes, how impermanent life is. They were the same eyes she saw the first time you stepped foot into the barony after losing your whole world along with your hometown of Novi Grad.

'You can't waste your youth between these old walls,' she sighed. You realized, taking a look at your back at your life, that she was right. You've been displaced in time, both mourning and being mourned, and chose to become one with history instead of living in the present. 'Now, go! Get some fresh air, dance, get some sun, fall in love, get your heart broken! Live!' Ms. Helena, ready to return from retirement just so you could take a vacation, sent you home to pack your bags. 'Just remember to send me a postcard.'

You'd almost forgotten all about it, excited and exhausted as you were after the flight, but a rack full of them reminded you of your promise. Ibiza Airport offered tourists a taste of the island right after they stepped off the plane, so there were gift shops filled with mementos of times you had yet to live. You spent your own money in one of them. You were saving up the euros he slipped under your door and that you hadn't already use to pay for the car, train, and plane that got you here in the first place.

Not feeling ready to step outside into the world and the setting Mediterranean sun just yet, you took a seat in a little coffee shop that overlooked the bus stop and wrote to Mrs. Helena.

After you finished your drink, paid for it, and tipped the waitress, you took another peek at the envelope and the absurd amount of money still left inside. He gave you more banknotes than information about his whereabouts. You understood why he couldn't, being a wanted man and all, but you wished you knew as much about him as he seemed to know about you. All you could be sure of was that he wanted you here, in Ibiza, where he would be for the next 10 days. And while you had dreamed about him greeting for you here at Arrivals, with a flower bouquet and a sun-kissed face, as you sleept on the plane, you knew better than to hope. After all, it was the possibility of getting lost among all the tourists visiting the island that gave you the nerve to travel here. But, if you were to be honest with yourself, the smaller possibility of being accosted by him for the third time was what made you take time off from work.

As you boarded the bus that would take you to your cheap - well, cheap for the likes of a baron - hotel, you took one last lingering look at the Arrivals entrance.

The sun was sinking into the sea when you got off the bus, so you stood there and stared. You’ve never seen the sea and it seemed like a lifetime since you’ve felt the sun on your skin. The sea breeze must’ve frozen you in place because a family of five knocked you over and walked all over you. The father apologized for childrens' crimes in a language you recognized as Italian. You reassured him that you were fine in a mix of English and Spanish, the two languages you’ve been speaking to the airport staff and vendors since you landed. After shaking off the embarrassment and dusting off your jean shorts, you started moving again, dragging the small and swiveling trolley behind you. You had packed every piece of summer clothing you owned and there was still room left. That’s where you put the magnets and Mrs. Helena’s postcard.

Inside the hotel lobby, you could get stomped on if you were to stop and stare at another shiny thing again. It was crowded, but that is exactly what you wanted, wasn’t it? To go unnoticed? When the Italian father waved at you, hoarding his children into the elevator, you knew that you had already made an impression.

“How may I help-”

“Here’s my ID” you interrupted the receptionist. “I made a reservation via phone in that name just yesterday.”

You knew you were being rude, but you needed to get out of those clothes you’ve been sweating in since you left home. The last thing you wanted was to waste time spelling out your name.

“Of course,” she smiled. It was the same smile you’d put on during visiting hours. It was gone the moment she took a gander at your ID. “Excuse me.” She grabbed the phone off the desk and turned her back to you. Now, that was rude. Your Catalan wasn’t as good as your Spanish, but you did overhear the words ‘girl’ and ‘here’. “I'm sorry, Miss. There seems to be a problem with your reservation, but don’t worry, we'll sort it out soon.” Then, handing you back the ID card, she turned towards the sitting area and invited you to take a seat.

You swallowed a groan and put on your customer service smile before thanking her. After all, whatever mix-up may have occurred, it couldn’t have been her fault. Hell, it might’ve been your fault. It was closing in on a week since you had a good night’s sleep. On the bright side, you had some time to stare at everything shiny while you waited. You’ve never been to a place that glowed as brightly as Ibiza. Everything from the sun, to the sea at dawn, to the light fixtures in the hotel lobby, everything that glittered was gold.

When you looked back at the receptionist’s desk, you saw her looking back, but she wasn’t the only one. A man, no older than yourself, followed her line of sight and found you. From his black suit and hat and his white gloves and shirt, you could see that he was a chauffeur. What you couldn’t see was what he handed over to the receptionist. Stepping towards you, a smile spread across his face. As for yourself, you shrunk back into your seat.

“Good evening, Miss,” he spoke, his English spiced by a Spanish accent. “I’ve been sent to collect your luggage.”

“By whom?” You asked as if you haven’t already pieced the disparate pieces of the puzzle together.

“By his lordship,” he whispered before grabbing your bags. “He is waiting for you in the car. Follow me, please.”

Looking back at the receptionist one last time, you pulled the purse off his arm and slid it onto your shoulder. “I can carry this myself, thank you.”

“Apologies, Miss,” he bowed his head and followed you out the front door.

“Which car?” You asked once the both of you were outside.

“Follow me,” he whispered and walked ahead of you. When he walked out of the parking lot, you wondered if you should’ve believed a total stranger in the first place, but then he said: “The limousine.”

Sure enough, on the other side of the street, there was a black car and its shadow: a limousine.

“Just a moment, Miss,” he rolled your trolley suitcase to the trunk.

You slowly approached the side of it, the blackened windows preventing your eye from penetrating inside. Before you even reached the passenger door, it popped open. Taking a step back, you forced your spooked heart to settle. When the chauffeur finally made it back beside you, you were too startled to say anything about the seemingly faulty door.

“Forgive me, milord,” he bowed, backing away from the now fully opened door that was obscuring who he was talking to. “I shouldn’t have kept the young miss waiting. Please,” he waved you closer to the car.

As you approached it apprehensively, you heard a voice you had come to terms with never hearing again: “Good evening, my dear,” he removed a pair of purple sunglasses as he beckoned you inside with the same dark and deep eyes you were ready to miss for the rest of your life.

The interior was almost as bright as the lobby you left, white like marble and illuminated by a golden glow. One side had an entire cream couch just for the two of you while the other had a bar filled with crystal glassware and bottles bearing labels you don’t recognize. Yet it was him that you were most blinded by Baron Helmut Zemo. He wore a jacket that seemed the summer version of his fur coat and the button-up underneath was the same royal purple as his forsaken mask. As you took his hand and a seat next to him, you saw that the sun had managed to kiss his face, if only a little. Then, while you were lost in his eyes, he brought you back by bringing the back of your hand to his lips:

“How was your flight?”

“How did you-”

“How did I know you came here via plane? I didn’t, but it is the most popular way,” he smirked. “I did, however, know that you have a room here. Well, had.”

“I didn’t even get to…” you started, as he stroked your knuckles with his thumb, little circles to calm you down. “And the receptionist, she…”

“You’ll forgive her for not spoiling the surprise, won’t you?” Then, seemingly out of the salty Mediterranean air, he brought before you a bouquet of red roses. “Welcome to Ibiza.”

The drive to his villa was spent sipping the champagne he popped in his fingers and spilled all over his hand, giggles bubbling out of you as he offered you a crystal flute. With your heavy head on his shoulder and his arm around yours, you listened to his voice rather than his words. He talked about the sun that had just been swallowed by the sea, about how it gave life to everything on the island.

"Ibiza also has a nightlife, as I'm sure you've heard," he spoke into your scalp while his nose was in your hair. "I could tell you all about it, but I'd you live it for yourself. Tonight."

You were content floating in the foam inside your flute, getting drunk on his cologne and falling asleep to the soothing sound of his voice. "Is this a dream? Am I dreaming right now?"

"No, my dear," he rose from his seat when the ride was over. "And I have to wake you up now. We've arrived."

The night had already taken over the island by the time you got out of the limousine, but the horizon was as bright as ever. Stars, ships, and city lights which way you turned your head. And, when he led you inside, your eyes hurt from the brilliance of the interior. Everything was light and soft, nothing like the dark and chilly castle. There was life within these walls, potted plants, and music in the air.

"The bedrooms are on the second floor." He offered you his arm to take as he lifted your trolley in the other. "You can freshen up while I prepare something for you to eat. Are you hungry?"

"No, I had something to eat on the flight."

"A light snack then," he decided.

There were two bedrooms and two bathrooms on the second floor. He made it clear that you can choose to sleep in your bed instead of insisting on sharing one with him. You walked into the room that had his smell lingering in the air and, under his hungry eyes, into his trap. But you didn't mind being his prey. You even expected him to bite down on the fading teeth marks he left under your right ear. But he backed away while handing you your luggage.

After a shower that soothed your very soul, it was time for a change of clothes. You only had one dress that you hoped was fancy enough for a baron. It wasn't made out of any expensive material, but it did compliment your curves. As you walked down the stairs in your heels, you hoped you wouldn't embarrass yourself and fall like you did the last time.

As if summoned by the sound of your clicking shoes, he appeared at the bottom of the stairs. "A vision," he bellowed, eyes wide and arms spread wider. "You are a vision, my dear."

"I bet you say that to all the girls you bring back here," you blushed.

"No vision as lovely has ever stepped foot in this villa, I assure you," he offered you his arm to take again as he guided you to the kitchen.

"Or is that what you say to them?" You jabbed his side, hoping the joke would land. "Thank you for flattering me, but can you be brutally honest and tell me if this dress fits the occasion or not?"

"While it's a perfect fit, it is far too elegant for a nightclub," he sat you down on a stool before the bouquet of roses he'd placed in a glass vase and served you a china cup of cherry blossom tea. "If you'd like, we can go shopping for something more appropriate tomorrow. My treat."

He didn't let you protest, or dig up the envelope of banknotes from your purse. Instead, he insisted on keeping your mouth busy by feeding you himself because you two had a long night ahead.'

Between cheeses and grapes, he treated you to Turkish delights. The pleasure he took in watching you eat from his hand emboldened you enough to wipe the white powder off of the tip of his fingers using your tongue. The hunger in his eyes only grew when he slowly slipped one of them between your lips and you sucked it in. If it were up to you, the two of you'd be rushing upstairs into your shared bedroom and not come out until the sun does. However, when his phone started vibrating on the tabletop, both of you jumped.

"The chauffeur is here," he cleared his voice as he checked his phone. "Come, my dear." The baron had to clean your mess and his, the powder and your lipstick, with a tissue, before he could help you off the stool.

Before your mind could catch up with you, before you could ask why he sent the chauffeur away when he knew the two of you would be needing him tonight, you were already in the driveway admiring a purple convertible. It was a jewel on the road, the city lights and the night sky reflecting off of its polish finish, and you got to 'feel the sea breeze,' as the baron had ordered you to.

"Let your hair down and enjoy the wind whipping through it," he whispered. "The night is ours."

The night had barely begun to take over, yet you already felt like you conquered it. When you arrived in the island's paradise, the nightclub known as Eden, you knew that you made it to the top of the world. The guard let you pass as soon as they spotted you on the baron's arm and a second one guided you to the much less crowded and far more quiet VIP area. The speakers hummed through the walls that were drenched in blue and red lights and the dance floor was covered with bodies coming together in communion. It was a nightly ritual you can't remember the last time you participated in, but you recall it never attending one of this magnitude.

"Luciano," the baron called out over the beat.

"Baron," a man, dressed in black that seemed to blend into the shadows stood up from the table the bodyguard had led you to. "You're looking as alive as you sounded on the phone," he coughed in Spanish, putting out his cigarette to shake the baron's hand. "I can't say the same for myself." He was tall, taller than your Lord, and the darkness the strobe lights couldn't illuminate added his shadow to the height.

He chose to ignore your Spanish greeting as if you were just another in a long line of girls that had been brought before him. But that didn't stop the baron from introducing you as an 'hermosa visión'. The compliment made you smile just as wide the second time. And, after you were invited to sit across from this Luciano, he made a remark that you barely registered, distracted as you were by the sound of your Lord ordering drinks in Catalan.

"You're Sokovian like my Heidi, yes?"

You shook your head and said in Spanish: "Excuse me?"

"Heidi!"

A woman, sitting by herself on a black velvet stool, twisted her torso before turning off her phone. You were surprised to have missed her because, as soon as she stood up, she stood out with her dress as white as her skin and as bright as her blond hair.

"Good evening," the baron bowed his head slightly as she stepped closer to the couch.

"Heidi, this is the baron I told you about," Luciano gestured grandly towards your side of the couch.

"Baron Helmut Zemo?" She blinked, stars in her eyes the color of the strobe lights. "We thought you were dead or locked up or-" she stuttered in Sokovian as she sat down and leaned over the glass table.

"What is my silly girl saying, Baron? I could never learn the language."

"Papi," she spun around to face him. "You didn't tell me it was Baron Zemo we were hosting tonight."

"I wanted to surprise you, baby," he tucked her long blond hair behind her ear. "I know how much you've missed speaking in your mother tongue. Look, he even brought you a play mate."

When you were pointed out, you pushed your hair out of your face and waved. When he saw your stilted movements and your strained smile, the baron brought your shaking hand to his lips. He knew you had been placed in an awkward position, but he calmed you with a few circles drawn with his thumb on the back of your hand. He then made the introduction himself, releasing your hand so that you can shake Heidi's. Her smile was sincere, so yours grew at the sight of it.

"Why don't you girls go onto the dance floor?" Luciano leaned back. "The baron and I have business to discuss."

"Come on," Heidi dragged you up by the hand that was still in hers. "Business bores me."

"What was that, baby?"

"I said you're boring, Papi," she answered a laughing Luciano in Spanish.

As for yourself, you looked back at the baron who reassured you by squeezing your other hand: "I'll be right here, my dear. Now, go! Have fun! That's an order!"

You tried obeying his order, you did, but it took Heidi dragging you to the bar and buying the two of you drinks to relax your muscles and settle your nerves. She was brazen, sure. But she was also sweet. The smile that stretched her face also lit it up. She was another shiny thing you were drawn to on this island and she just so happened to be Sokovian. Three drinks in, she was already teaching you Catalan and a couple of her signature dance moves. You talked about Castle Zemo and the tourists who had thought you all the other languages. Soon enough you were grinding against each in the flurry of giggles. The music was just as addicting as the alcohol and it made you even more uninhibited. When she asked about the baron's performance in the bedroom, you answered so fast, your head started spinning. The best you've ever had. You asked about her relationship with Luciano and she wasn't ashamed to admit to her sugar baby status.

"Ladies, mind if I cut in?"

As if he could hear his name being whispered across the crowded dance floor and over the thrumming beat, the baron appeared beside you.

“Milord,” you blinked up at him, a sobering sight for drunk eyes.

“Hello, milord,” she wrapped her arms around you, not ready to let him have you back just yet. “Do you dance as well as you fuck?”

“Heidi,” you gasped, but soon you dissolved into giggles. You even wrapped your arms around her middle. “Stop it!”

“I’m afraid I’m not nearly as good of a dancer,” he smirked, seemingly unshaken by her slurred words. “Heidi, Luciano has asked to see you in what I believed he called his private booth. He tried calling you, but-”

“He wants to play,” she whispered in your ear. “I have to go, but I’ll see you soon, okay?” Then she kissed you on each cheek, each of them as sloppy and glossy. “Milord,” she attempted to make a curtsy but would’ve fallen over if you hadn’t caught her and sent her on her way.

In a sea of sweaty party people, you could only see him. The alcohol made everything glow brighter, including your baron. Like a moth who doesn’t know any better, you knocked your chest against his in an attempt to get closer.

“Are you having fun, my dear?” He steadied you with his hands, sliding them down your spine and stopping at the small of your back.

“Yes,” you smoothed his shoulder pads with your palms, enjoying the sensation of the fabric against your fingers. “But I thought you brought me here to dance.”

“For where I was standing, I could see the two of you were dancing,” he chuckled. “Were my eyes deceiving me?”

“You’re the one I wanted to dance with,” you slurred, emboldened by the liquor flowing freely through your veins. With your arms wrapped around his neck, you dragged him down and dipped your tongue into the shell of his ear. “Heidi’s pretty and all, but she’s not you.”

“My Lady,” he hissed, holding you so close he might’ve crushed you if he applied force. “What do you think you’re doing?”

With the beat of the music under your feet and his rumbling chest against your breasts, you swayed to the music in your heart. Your breaths were in each other’s ears, your lips against the shell of his and his under your lobe, in the same spot he left his stamp the last time the two of you were entangled.

“My Lord, what are you doing? You’ve barely touched me,” you gasped, grinding against him when you felt his teeth tease your sensitive skin. “You’ve barely spent time with me,” you moaned, moving your hands up and down his arms and feeling his muscles flex beneath your fingertips. “Why bring me here at all?”

“You needed this,” he grunted, his groin growing between your bodies. “You’ve been living among dead things for too long. You needed to be among the living again.” After licking the wound his teeth reopened, his mouth moved from underneath your ear to murmur: “And you needed me.” The hands slid down the small of your back to cup your ass cheeks and press your pelvis up against his. “You need me right now, don’t you?”

“I do,” you sighed, sinking your nails into his shoulders for stability. “I need you.” He had shoved his knee between your legs and your body compiled: you were now rubbing your bare cunt against his clothed thigh. If he hadn’t figured out that you left the villa pantyless yet, he knew now. “You ruined me for every other man.”

His hands smoothed your dress again, but this time they climbed up your spine. When they arrived at the back of your head, one got tangled in your hair while the other went right through. Yanking your head back, he exposed your throat to his teeth and your eyes to his hunger. The baron was starving.

While nobody else around you could hear it over the music, he must’ve tasted your moans under the teeth he was dragging up your throat. When his mouth made it to your chin, he chuckled: “What a spoiled little girl you are! Haven’t I given you enough? What is it that you want now? Me? Right here, right now?” Nipping the thin skin under your chin, he continued. “You could wrap those legs around me and I could slip my cock right into your sopping cunt. Yes, I know you’re not wearing any panties.” Releasing his grip on your air, he cupped your cheeks to keep your eyes on him instead. “Or do you want to be fucked in a bathroom stall like the dirty little girl you are?”

“Please,” you begged him, but you couldn’t even begin to articulate. Your body, hot and loose because of the liquor, was more coherent. Your thighs tightened around his own and your spine arched like a bow. “Oh, please.”

The baron bunched up your skirt in between your bodies with one hand while the other wound up around your throat, still tender from his teeth. “Please who?” He pressed you for an answer as he pressed his thumb against your slick and swollen clitoris.

“Please, m-milord,” you whined. “The bathroom. Take me to the bathroom.”

The walk to the men’s bathroom was a blur, but you didn’t need your eyes to find your destination. The baron’s hand was secure on your side, guiding you through the gaggle of dancers and hiding you from prying eyes. The bathroom was more light with more blue than red and the stall was more spacious than what you were used to. You initially imagined you must be out in the open, my when he turned the handle, it made a clicking noise, the sound of secrecy.

When he turned towards you, his eyes were wild in the blue neon lights and his hands were claws as he cornered you to capture your tender thighs. “You dirty girl,” he chuckled, as dark as his blown-out eyes. Then, as he lifted your feet off the tile floor and drove you up the wall of the stall, he snarled: “You couldn’t wait until we were back at the villa, could you? You had to have my cock right here, right now, didn’t you?”

You tried to get a hold of the tile wall, but failed and sunk your nails into his scalp instead. “Milord,” you called to him as you were climbing to the ceiling without your consent. “Milord, I’m gonna fall.”

Your Lord sat you atop of his shoulders, one thigh on each side of his face. “I won’t allow it,” he growled before his head disappeared under your skirt. “I’ve waited long enough for you to come to me, and I’m not letting you go now.”

He was right: you weren’t falling, you were flying. The swirling of his tongue around your cunt’s engorged numb was making your head spin and his five o'clock shadow scratching your inner thighs were stimulating every sinus. And you were sure that every ear inside the men’s bathroom could hear, but you didn’t stop yourself from screaming out for him.

When he slowed down his assault on your cunt, it was only to speak to it. “I missed this. I missed the sweet noises you make. I missed my sweet girl,” he licked up your labia, taking his time to taste it. “And I missed my sweet pussy.”

“Oh, God,” you called to the ceiling and the skies.

“No, not God,” he spat between your folds before sliding a finger between them. “I’m no God. No god is making you feel this way.” He pushed the protruding digit deeper before pulling it out again. “It’s a man.” Then, he pushed and pulled at a punishing pace, his mouth circling your clitoris again. “It’s me. Now, come on my tongue. Come on, come on my tongue like the dirty girl that you are.”

Baron Zemo had given out an order and you, his loyal servant, obeyed. Squeezing your thighs down on the sides of his head, you rode his face to the finish. You pulled at his hair and pushed his head down all at the same time. Everything was too much, but never enough. It was a sobering experience that made the alcohol in your veins dissipate. Still, as he slid you down the wall of the stall, you were drunk on the dopamine released by your orgasm.

“Just as obedient as I remember you to be. And twice as sweet,” he licked his lips as he whipped your face with his thumbs tenderly. His face shone with your juices, his chin being especially shiny. “Would you like a taste?”

You nodded, not feeling prepared to practice speaking just yet. He held up your head with a hand at the back of your throat while he brought the finger that burrowed inside you up to your bottom lip. You tasted the tip at first under his spreading smirk, but as soon as you took him in, he parted his lips and started panting. And his breathing got louder the more of him you sucked inside. When you took all of him, the entire finger up to the knuckle, and began bobbing your head, he gritted his teeth and groaned.

“Do you still want my cock, dirty girl?”

Pulling back from his finger with a pop, you bit your bottom lip. “Yes, milord.”

“Would you bow before me to get to it?”

“Yes, milord,” you smiled stupidly, drunk on the dopamine.

By the time he took himself out of his trousers, you were on your knees saying your pleas. You missed the taste of him as much as he claimed to miss your cunt. You stuck out your tongue and tasted his precum that was already pouring out. When the tip met with your mouth, you locked your lips around it and moaned. This caused him to call to the ceiling:

He grunted, grabbing you by the hair and yanking you off of him. “I want to paint those pretty little lips myself.”

You moaned aloud at that, eyes glazed over and mind muddled him. His touch, taste, and smell were taking over you again and all you could do was beg him for more, more, more. “Please, please, please,” you breathed as he slid his hand up and down his shaft and snarled, his teeth bared. “Please, please, please.”

He growled and the grip in your hair tightened. “That’s a good girl,” he managed to get out before spilling in your open mouth. “That’s my good girl.”

Once the steam started, he couldn’t stop himself. If you could’ve, you wouldn’t have stopped him either. The tangy taste of him transported you back to the first time he pushed you down into this position. He had a mask on then, but now his face was wearing his emotions. He was in pain, the pleasurable kind. His eyebrows were knitted together and his hair was falling on his forehead. While you were the one serving him, the one swallowing his come and cleaning his cock with your tongue, you felt powerful. And, as he called you his baroness and said you never looked more beautiful than you did in that moment, you knew that you would never feel this powerful again.

“Occupied,” he slammed the door in another man’s nose.

A voice swore in English from the other side. “What, man? The whole damn bathroom?”

Yes, the whole bathroom. Baron Zemo was standing at the entrance to the men’s bathroom to keep out men as you freshened up. You were starting to sober up, splashing water across your face to whip away your runny make-up.

“You remain a vision, my dear,” he held out his arm when you were done.

“Now I'm sure that’s what you say to all the girls,” you said, too satiated and exhausted to even think about the implications of your statement.

“There’s nothing more beautiful in this world than a woman in the afterglow,” he whispered, a wide smirk shadowing his lips before he swung the door open. “It’s all yours, my friend.”

“I almost pissed myself, man! Not cool!”

You smothered your laughter into his shoulder while he walked you back to the VIP lounge. “You think they noticed how long we’ve been gone?” You squeezed his arm with both hands. Your flushed and bare face must’ve been enough to give away the game anyway, so you didn’t know why you bothered to hide from Heidi.

“They’ve been gone for just as long,” he winked. “He called her into his booth, remember?”

The reunion with your Sokovian sister revealed that she at some point also had to remove her make-up. She invited you to sit next to her and immediately asked about the intimate details. You amused her but refused to drink any more alcohol. You asked for water instead.

While the two of you were swooning over the sex you just had, the men in question had yet to sit down. They had their backs turned to you and their glasses full. However, they never got to finish their drinks.

“Baby, it’s time to say goodbye to your new friend.” He didn’t even look at you as he said all this, focusing his narrow gaze on the other man instead. “The baron was just leaving.”

Heidi’s pitch was higher when she spoke Spanish, so she almost squeaked out: “Papi, make him stay.”

“I’m afraid it’s getting late,” the baron began apologizing. “It’s been a long day and we’re still suffering from jet lag.” He looked at you. That was your cue.

“Yes,” you yawned. “I’m sorry, Heidi. You know how far away Sokovia used to be, right?”

“Well, if you have to go, then you have to promise you’ll be back tomorrow. Papi, make him promise to bring her back tomorrow.”

Her Papi took one look at his baby’s pleading eyes, then another at the baron’s poker face, then sighed. “Very well. Baron, we’ll finish our talk tomorrow night.”

While Luciano looked more than eager to escort you out himself, he had to wait for Heidi to hug you tightly as she typed her number into your phone. She only let you go after kissing you good night.

“I didn’t even have to lie,” you yawed as he draped his suit jacket over your shoulders. “I so, so sleepy.”

“Which one wore you out, the flight or I?”

“Both,” you tucked your head under his chin.

Either the sea breeze had turned into a chill, or your tired body was cooling down. Whichever one it was, the chauffeur covered the convertible at the baron’s demand. It was either his warm chest that put you to sleep or the purring engine. Whichever one it was, you woke up to Baron Zemo caring you up the stairs like a groom would his bride.

“Hush now, my dear,” he shushed you. “Get some sleep. We have a full day ahead of us.”

#Baron Zemo #Baron Zemo x Reader #Helmut Zemo #Helmut Zemo x Reader #TFatWS

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lu-undy · 3 years

Text

Valentine’s Day 3 - Autobalance

Here it is on AO3 or under the cut, if you prefer!

"You got all your stuff Spy? Taxi's on his way." Engineer asked as he knocked on the door with the knife symbol.

"Oui, I am coming." The voice with the French accent answered.

Inside the suite, Spy wasn't alone. He sighed as he picked up his suitcase and his mask before looking up at Sniper.

"Spook…? You sure you can't stay?"

"I do not think I can. The Administrator's orders were very clear, you received the same letter as I did. I am to be transferred to the enemy team and you will receive their Spy in exchange."

"Yeah… But why does it have to be like that?" Sniper asked, fumbling with his hat between his fingers. He had meant it as a rhetorical question, to express his distress more than anything else. But Spy answered anyway.

"Because we keep winning against them with baffling ease. It was high time that something was done about that."

"Couldn't she swap other people? You're not alone in this team!"

Spy took the step that separated him from his lover and put his suitcase down. He splayed a hand on Sniper's chest. Like a reflex, his glove travelled up to Sniper's collar and adjusted it. Ah, Sniper didn't know how to dress up. But that was not why the Frenchman had fallen for him. Non, it was rather for his way of undressing the Frenchman, figuratively and concretely.

Sniper had an innocence, a naivety almost, that touched Spy more deeply than anything else. He had learnt to ignore the scruffy looks, the almost feral manners and instead, found himself falling for them all. Those features were nothing but a wall hiding a kind of honesty and sensitivity too powerful to be understood by the common mortal. Spy had learnt to see through the campervan, the atrocious mullet, the equally hideous sideburns and the messy stubble on the skin tanned by years under the scorching sun of Australia. He had fallen for them all.

"Mundy." Spy said and Sniper, who had his head lowered, closed his eyes and frowned. "Look at me, please."

"Can't. It hurts."

"Please…?" Spy put his gloved hand under Sniper's chin and pulled it up until their eyes met.

"Mh…" Sniper protested.

"We will continue to see each other at work. This is not a goodbye." Spy said, trying to comfort him.

"Yeah, when you stab me in the back." Sniper sighed.

"I will not spare you, mon amour, you know how much I like to scratch that back of yours." Spy wiggled his eyebrows and Sniper eventually managed to smile.

"C'mere…" The Aussie wrapped his arms around him and pulled him in a tight hug as he buried his head in Spy's shoulder. "I'll miss you, luv'." He inhaled the expensive perfume and the menthol cigarette, the distinctive scent of the man he loved.

"I will miss you too." Of course Spy returned the dear embrace and they remained stuck to each other for a long while. Chest against chest, their breathing synced as their fingers clawed harder on each other.

"Yo, Spy! Your taxi's comin'!" Scout shouted from the door.

"Get lost!" Sniper shouted from the inside.

"You are interrupting a moment, Scout." Spy added.

"What kind of moment? C'mon, you gotta hurry, man!"

Spy looked at Sniper and answered:

"The kind of moment you dream of having with Miss Pauling."

Sniper chuckled.

"Oh guys! Jeez! Disgustin'...!" Scout's voice seemed to be deafened more as he walked away from the door.

Spy and Sniper chuckled.

"Right, let me carry this for you." Sniper took the suitcase off of Spy's hand.

"Thank you, that is very kind of you."

They headed for the door.

"Well, gotta help the elderly, eh?"

"Mundy!" Spy nudged him with his elbow.

The Aussie chuckled and put his hand on the door knob.

"Wait." He turned to Spy. "Lu'...?"

"Oui?" Lucien answered with a sweet smile. He was about to put on his mask.

"Can I uh… Can I kiss you, just one last time?"

Lucien shook his head, his grin growing wider.

"May I kiss you." He corrected. "And please, I am all yours."

Mundy let go of the door handle and laced his arm around Lucien's waist, pulling him closer as he pushed his lips against him. Lucien wrapped his arms up around Mundy's neck and pushed himself to the tip of his toes, in his varnished Italian shoes.

"Gosh, I'll miss your lips." Mundy stayed with his forehead against Lucien. His hand travelled up to his hair. He stroked it gently.

"Only my lips?" Lucien tapped the tip of Mundy's nose with his gloved finger before putting on his mask and passing in front of him to open the door.

"Nah, definitely not only yer lips…"

"Mundy-!" Lucien got startled when he felt from behind Mundy's powerful fingers grabbing him where he was quite sensitive.

"C'mon, luv', let's go."

They exited the suite. Spy said goodbye to his team as the taxi arrived. The enemy Spy exited it and entered the base. He shook hands with his new teammates.

"Spy?"

"Spy."

Both spies shook hands too.

"Sniper, do you mind holding on to my suitcase, I will give the new Spy a tour of his suite." Lucien asked.

"Sure. Don't be too long though, the taxi driver's waitin'."

"But of course."

Both spies went to the door with the knife symbol and entered. It lasted a few minutes and soon, Lucien exited again. Mundy nodded to the front door and the Frenchman nodded. They exited the base and soon found themselves at the taxi's car.

"Hey, promise you'll go easy on my back?"

"Only if you spare my head, and my suits."

"Your suits?" Mundy asked, not understanding.

"Your Jarate, Sniper."

"Ah, yeah… Well, depends."

"On what, may I ask?"

"If you behave." Mundy answered with a wink and Lucien blushed beyond his ears.

"Stop it."

"Make me." Mundy growled low enough that the taxi driver wouldn't hear and Lucien chuckled.

"I will see you tomorrow, as usual." The Frenchman said.

"Yeah. Oh, hold on…" Mundy opened the car door for him.

"Oh… Merci." He slipped in the car on the backseat and fastened his seatbelt.

Mundy tapped the window and Lucien lowered it.

"Uh, I hope I'll say it right, but uh… je t'aime."

[I love you.]

The pronunciation was tainted with a heavy English accent, the syllables were butchered and the sounds slaughtered. Lucien chuckled at how distorted it sounded from his Sniper's voice.

"Merci."

[Thank you.]

The driver started the engine and Mundy was left alone in front of the base, in the middle of the orange desert split by a grey line of asphalt. The car looked smaller and smaller as the taxi driver flew like the wind. Eventually, it completely disappeared and Mundy sighed, his shoulders sinking sadly.

He went back straight to his van and spent the rest of his day off there, like a fox in his den. Time passed slowly, terribly so. It was torture to go through the day without his lover and Mundy found himself imagining what Lucien was doing in the enemy base, wherever it was. Did he start by unpacking his suits? Or did he just collapse on his bed and get sucked in the same daydream as Mundy was?

Perhaps, he had decided to start by taking a shower, to clear his head, then unpack before organising his new home, getting to know it. Of course, Lucien would do all these things with a cigarette between his lips, carding his salt and pepper hair elegantly from time to time. Ah, his grey front lock would always fall on his forehead and between his eyes. He used to always complain about it, saying that he would cut it shorter. But Mundy would answer that his hair was perfect as it was, and he shouldn't cut it.

Once, he even jokingly suggested that Lucien should tie it away in a ridiculous, very short ponytail at the front. And the Frenchman answered that he seriously was considering it. Of course it was nothing else but a joke, yet Mundy had taken his words and found a little rubber band. He took it to the Frenchman's suite and it had ended up in a game of cat and mouse where Mundy was chasing his lover to tie his hair. When he finally did catch him, he tied the grey front lock of hair and Lucien looked absolutely ridiculous. That day, he had even kept it for the entire evening and only removed it when he went to bed with Mundy.

Ah, the nights would be lonely now. No Lucien to lie his head on Mundy's shoulder, no Lucien to stick his ice cold feet on Mundy's calves, just to bully him. And of course, no Lucien to warm Mundy's night and leave him panting and sweating…

Mundy sighed. Such a shame that it had to end. Well, not exactly. They would still see each other at work. Although now, the dynamics between them completely flipped. They didn't work together but against each other. And it was no problem for both of them. Their professionalism and their age meant that they did not mix their work with what they held in their hearts.

Still, it would take some time to adjust to the new feeling of sleeping alone. Ha, the irony… Him who had slept alone all his life, with only the view of the star sprinkled sky as a companion, Mundy was now lacking company. He almost came to wonder how he used to live before Lucien brightened his days and nights. The van seemed lifeless, as if something vital was missing.

"Yo, Snipes, dinner's ready!" Scout banged at the door with his legendary delicateness.

"Right, comin'."

Mundy put on his hat and glasses before exiting the van. He went to the kitchen and sat at the table, at his usual place. Opposite him was an empty seat. It used to be Lucien's.

"Alright, fellows, here comes the soup for tonight." Engie announced as he put the - almost larger than him - pot on the table.

"Oh, man! Soup again?" Scout complained. "Please tell me there are no veggies in it at least?"

"Sorry, pardner, but it's winter and there's no soup on Earth without any veggies. C'mon, gimme your plate…!"

Scout pulled his plate towards himself.

"Scout…?" Engie insisted.

"Nah it's fine, I'll eat somethin' else."

"Chocolate bars and soda ain't a diet, son. C'mon now…!"

"Listen, Private!" Soldier banged his fist on the table and all the plates and cutlery shook. "You will eat your rations or by God I will make you eat the empty plate!" Soldier tried to pry the plate off of Scout's hands.

"What?! No! Get away!"

Sniper sighed. That would definitely be when Lucien would say something witty to calm Scout and make him obey...

"Gentlemen."

All the mercenaries raised their heads.

"I do apologise for being late. Unpacking proved to be longer than what I had anticipated at first." The new Spy took a seat on the last free chair, opposite Sniper.

Spy's entrance was enough of a distraction for Engie to take Scout's plate and serve him. The other plates were passed on, one after the other until all the mercenaries were served and started eating.

The indistinguishable chatter rose in the room between Demo's hearty laughter, Heavy's stories in cold Siberia and Soldier's war tales.

Sniper was staring emptily at his plate. The bits of vegetables floated lifelessly, half-drowning in the soup. He pushed them sometimes to the left, sometimes to the right. Like little shipwrecks, they bobbed up and down at the surface of the undisturbed ocean that the soup was.

Obviously, his colleagues noticed but they knew of his relationship with Spy so they guessed why he felt distraught. Given how much the Aussie liked his privacy, they didn't bother him and eventually, he was left alone at the table. Heavy had been on dishes duty that night and he did not disturb his colleague either. After he was finished, he left the room and closed the door.

But soon, Sniper heard it open again. It did not register completely as he was too absorbed in a day dream.

"Yo, Snipes?"

Scout's voice startled Sniper back to reality.

"Huh?"

"Sorry pal, Spy's askin' for ya."

Sniper frowned. No, his Spy wasn't asking for him. It was the other one.

"What does he want?" He mumbled back.

"Don't know. He said he needed some help with something and he knew you could do it."

Sniper sighed and grumbled. He pushed his chair back and pushed himself on his feet heavily.

"Right, I'll see what I can do for him…" He dragged his feet out of the kitchen and in the corridor.

"Snipes, your soup?" He heard Scout ask but he ignored him as he now faced the door with the knife symbol, and gave a short knock.

"Come in, Sniper."

The Aussie frowned and pushed the door. He found Spy sitting on the armchair that used to be Lucien's. He was giving his back to Sniper.

"You need some help with something, Scout said."

"Oui, pray close the door."

Sniper obeyed and gulped down hard. The last time his Spy asked him to make sure the door was locked was before they - ugh… It mattered little now.

"So, what d'you need? If it's to move somethin' big, you can ask Heavy, he'll get it sorted faster than me."

"Non, it is for something different. Please, take a seat."

"Spy, look, I'm not the small talk kind of guy, ok?" Sniper refused to sit and stood not too far from the door.

"Oh, I know."

"Yeah, you do, you spend your time stabbing me in the back without sayin' a word." Sniper answered, irritated that his new colleague would make him waste his time. He would much prefer to lock himself up in his van and stay there.

"I don't believe I have ever stabbed you."

Sniper's eyebrows jumped and he fluttered his eyes under the audacity of what the snake of a man was saying.

"What?" Confused beyond what words could express, Sniper took a deep breath. "Look, y'know what, I'm not gonna answer. I'm gonna just do whatever you need and leave. Now, out with it."

"Sniper…" Spy chuckled and Sniper felt his blood boil.

"Listen, either you tell me what you need or I'll just walk out of here, before I start throwing punches at you."

"You never raised your hand on anyone." Spy answered with such calm… Sniper hated it. "Even when Scout mocks you, or gets on your nerves, you ignore him."

Sniper raised an eyebrow.

"What…? Y-you've been watchin' us in this base…?"

"You never raised your hand or your voice against anyone." Spy went on. "You are way too soft for that."

"Stop it. Right. Bloody. Now." Sniper was now angry. The familiarity with which the new Spy spoke to him disgusted him. He sounded almost like Lucien but he wasn't him. No, that bastard wasn't him. He wasn't him and how the hell dared he speak like him.

"Or what? What will you do, hm? Run far away and shoot me in the head? Throw one of your precious jars at me? Pff, come on…!"

"I might start by rearrangin' your ugly mug, pop a few teeth with my fists, see how that goes, eh!" Sniper snapped, furious.

"You used to find my face very comely. Countless times you have told me so."

"Right, that's enough." Sniper took confident steps towards the Frenchman. He clenched his fist and threw it but Spy stood up and faced him, blocking his punch in his open palm. He twisted the Aussie's arm and brought him to his knees.

"Oh you wanker!"

"Only when you ask nicely."

"What?!"

Spy removed his mask and his hair gently floated in the air for an instant.

"What the hell?!"

Mundy felt his foe's grip loosen on his fist and his own knees went to jelly under the surprise.

"Bonsoir, mon amour." The voice with the lovely smirk said.

[Good evening, my love.]

"What are you doin' here?!"

Lucien was standing in front of Mundy, a sweet smile on his lips. He helped him back to his feet.

"Am I…? Am I dreamin' or something? Hold on…" Mundy removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "What the hell are you doing here? Why aren't you with the other team?!"

Lucien chuckled and took his lover's hands to guide him and sit together on the sofa.

"I never left this base!"

"What?"

"When I took the enemy Spy on a tour of this suite, I had a chat with him. Neither him or I wanted to swap teams. So we agreed to swap our clothes instead. I stay here and he goes back to his base."

"Holy… Why didn't you say anything earlier, during dinner or something?" Mundy stretched his arm and wrist which hurt.

"Because no one knows about this but you, me, and the enemy Spy. There are cameras in the kitchen, living-room and corridors. I couldn't try anything suspicious there. Here however, we are safe, as you know."

"Bloody hell…" Mundy shook his head. "But hold on, why did the enemy Spy accept?"

"I think he has an arrangement with one of his teammates."

"An arrangement?" Mundy repeated. "What? They're gonna open a lemonade stand on the weekends?" He chuckled.

"Non, he is in a relationship with his Sniper."

Mundy's chuckle stopped sharp and his eyebrows jumped.

"Seriously?"

"Oui."

"Crikey, I had no idea…!"

Lucien chuckled.

"Anythin' else like that that I don't know?" He asked.

"Oh, plenty of things. But they matter very little. What matters now is that I am still here, with you." Lucien cupped his lover's face with his gloved hands and stroked his cheeks. Mundy relaxed and smiled.

"So the bloke I escorted to the taxi and stuff wasn't you?"

"Non, it was him."

"Oh, right." Mundy stared at his lover with half-lidded eyes. "It really broke me inside when - oh, bugger!" He exclaimed in shock.

"What?" Lucien asked.

"Before the taxi drove off…!"

"What happened?"

"I told the enemy Spy I loved him! In French!" Mundy exclaimed with round eyes. "Bloody hell!" He smacked a hand on his own mouth and blushed beyond his ears.

Lucien burst out laughing.

"Well, I do hope that he didn't say that he loved you back!"

"Oh… Bugger… Now he's gonna bully me even more at work…" Mundy lowered his head.

"Non, mon amour…" Lucien hugged him and pulled Mundy's head to rest on his shoulder. "I won't let him bully you, I promise. Besides, I doubt that he will."

"Hope so."

"I am sure of it. He is a good man. A less good spy, but a good man." Lucien said. "Now, please, look at me." He cupped Mundy's half ashamed, half distraught face. "You need something to soothe your nerves, mon amour. And to fill your stomach. Come along." Lucien took his hand and led Mundy to the kitchen attached to his suite. "Let us cook something for you."

"Can we get pizza?"

"Non, Mundy. Why get pizza when I can cook for you?"

"Well…"

"Non! My cooking skills are godly, I will not tolerate that you should think otherwise!" Lucien said as he tied an apron around his waist and washed his hands. Mundy followed him left and right.

"I was gonna say it would save you the trouble, but ok…" Mundy chuckled.

"What trouble? There is no trouble! My lover is hungry. It is my duty to remedy that." Lucien went to his fridge.

"Fair enough. Can I still hug you though?"

"Oui, you may. But do not disturb me, understood?" Lucien emerged from the fridge and Mundy stuck himself to him, from behind.

"Can I at least breathe?!"

"I shall think about it and let you know." Lucien playfully answered as he grabbed a cutting board and a knife. Mundy rested his head on Lucien's shoulder, watching him cut vegetables and some meat. He liked it there, hugging his lover and spending time with him. Lucien would occasionally feed him a bit of carrot, or tomato.

"Mundy?"

"Yeah?"

"Could you say that to me?" Lucien asked and he interrupted his chopping.

"Say what?"

"That you love me, in French. You never did."

"Yeah, uh... Je t'aime, Lu'."

Lucien bit his lip and rolled his head back to lean it on Mundy's shoulder.

"Again…"

"Je t'aime."

He closed his eyes and smiled. Mundy hugged him tighter and left a kiss on his cheek.

"Mundy?"

"Yeah?"

"Your pronunciation is terrible."

"Oi!"

#tf2 sniper #tf2 spy #sniperspy #dontneedavalentine2021

43 notes · View notes

writing-in-april · 4 years

Text

Bowling Ball Baby

Franklin x Female Pregnant Reader

(Franklin is MGG’s character from beginner’s luck)

Gif courtesy of the ever wonderful @imagining-in-the-margins

A/N: I have recently become obsessed with Franklin because of @httpnxtt and @sunlight-moonrise so I decided to write some fluff with a dash of angst for him. I also have smut upcoming for this character as well. Thanks to my beta readers @sunlight-moonrise and @definitelynotkatesblog y’all are amazing!

Warnings: Fluff with a dash of angst, marital dispute at the beginning (is later resolved, and a few swear words.

Masterlist Word count: 1.9k (this was supposed to be a blurb lol)

Fighting with Franklin always left me at rock bottom. We both had feisty personalities but still didn’t fight often, usually just scathing quips when we were irritated. On the rare occasions when we did explode into a fight it was full of screaming, crying, and hurtful comments. Our tempers had been close to boiling over for a while now, my pregnancy hormones were making me extremely irritable and Franklin’s feisty demeanor didn’t exactly mesh well with that.

My 8 month pregnant belly felt like I was lugging around a bowling ball constantly, my back felt like it was being broken everyday. I constantly felt like I was standing on pins and needles, plus the baby felt the need to show me just how strong she or he was by kicking me in the ribs.

The fight had started after Franklin came home from work, I was sitting on our couch with my feet propped up and covered in an ice pack to relieve some of the stinging pain. Unfortunately for my poor swollen feet the ice pack did little to dull the throbbing.

“Hey, Frankie?” I called, hoping I could convince him to swap out the thawing ice pack for a frozen bag of peas.

“Not now, I’m busy.” He answered shortly, his back facing away from me, not fully acknowledging my presence. He was usually extra irritable after work; he felt trapped in his job, like it was holding him back from his dream of bowling professionally..

I huffed loudly, not that he could hear it from the other room, doing god knows what. He returned in a rush with his bowling ball bag in his hand, headed for the door, his Big Z Tires shirt hastily thrown on. My mouth fell open when I realized he was leaving for the alley.

“You’re leaving?” I squeaked, watching him while he hastily shoved a bagel in his mouth.

“I’ve got to go to practice” he muffled around a mouthful, sounding annoyed. I always supported Franklin and his dreams of being the best bowler in Little Falls, but this time I wasn’t going to let him escape his responsibilities of our relationship so easily.

“Could you skip today?” Treading lightly by asking softly. “We haven’t spent any time with each other in like a month and even then it was at the alley.”

His face switched from being annoyed to enraged despite my asking nicely, he was still going to get pissed off- figures.

“How could you be so inconsiderate- you know how important this is to me and the whole town!” he yelled. I was spooked but quickly composed myself before replying.

“I’m not being inconsiderate, you're never here.” I stated in a deadly tone, I didn’t want to make this worse by joining in on his raised voice. “I understand it’s the most important thing in Little Falls, but shouldn’t our baby be more important to you?!”

All I got in response was a dismissive scoff. I could feel myself getting angrier, we’d both said we wanted a baby and for the past month he acted like he couldn’t care less.

“You might as well go move into the bowling alley.” I mumbled under my breath, fiery spite fueling my words.

“Even with the pins, it’d still be quieter than your nagging.” he shot back.

“Excuse me?!” Now it was my turn to shout; he just had to continue to stoke the fire increasing in my belly. I waddled my way to stand right in front of him, ignoring the pain of my swollen feet. I didn't want him to wiggle his way out, if he wanted an argument he was going to get one, he was the one who started it after all.

“All you’ve done is whined and complained these past few weeks.” He was acting like a hypocrite, whining and complaining to me about something we both agreed to do together. I had never felt more alone.

“How would you know? You’re never here to spend time with me!” The timbre of my voice cracked as my heart started to shatter.

“Just stop, ok? I get it you’re pregnant but come on Y/N it can’t take that much hard work!” That comment was the straw that broke the camel's back, my anger turned to melancholy as hot tears spilled over onto my cheeks as I waddled away as fast as I could back to our bedroom.

I could hear his desperate voice trying to get me to come back, offering any pleading or begging he could think of, but I wasn’t having it. As I got to our room I slammed the door shut, making sure to lock it tight so he couldn’t follow me. If he wanted to act like a dick, he'll sleep on the couch for the night. Knocks started to hit the door with his voice barely permeating through the wood imploring me to let him in.

Tears fell down my cheeks while I rubbed my belly, all I wanted was for us to be a happy family, but I needed Franklin to be fully committed. Sinking down onto our bed I contemplated where this left us. I almost packed a bag to stay with a friend for the night but I was too tired to go through with it, the fighting had taken all the energy out of me. The mattress cuddled my body but it wasn’t as good as Franklin, which only made the drops fall harder. My sadness deepened when the knocks stopped, the room now a void, offering no comfort to me. Dread sat in my belly as I drifted off into a restless sleep.

~~~

Physically and emotionally I was strung out, I was in no mood to talk or argue so I had been tiptoeing around Franklin all day, his behavior had made me seriously start to question if he was truly invested in our relationship. Once dinner rolled around I padded my way into the kitchen, the baby had been craving some sweets and I was highly considering just binging on candy.

I glanced over to the stove to find a ridiculous sight standing before me. Franklin had his bowling shirt on- he honestly rarely took it off and had about 5 of them. Covering most of the front of his yellow button up was a baby sling I had bought a few weeks ago in preparation, in it sat my old purple bowling ball I used when I was in Highschool. He must’ve dug it out of our closet as I hadn’t used it since our last competition senior year. A wave of nostalgia washed over me as I reminisced about the old team where we’d first met. I gazed at the 8 pound perfectly round ball, weighing down and stretching the fabric directly in the middle, it looked exactly like what you’d think a bowling ball in a baby sling would look- ridiculous.

“I remember you saying you’ve been craving something sweet so I decided to make pancakes for dinner, I even added chocolate chips.” He spoke, breaking me out of my memory. I hadn’t even noticed he was making pancakes, my focus on the bowling ball strapped to his stomach.

“We’re not going to talk about the bowling ball?”

“Well I was being a dick-” I swiftly cut him off. My rage was being stoked slightly by his whimsical attitude, I couldn’t tell if he was trying to cheer me up or was really that thick and couldn’t understand my frustrations.

“Yeah, that’s the understatement of the century.” I’m sure the steely edge to my tone was not lost on Franklin, and I still wasn’t giving him the satisfaction of eye contact.

“Like I was saying- I was being a dick and I was thinking to myself, ‘Frankie she’s carrying the weight of the relationship right now. You want to get inside a woman’s head? You become a woman.’ So I thought I’d join you in solidarity- as an apology.”

Silence filled my part of the conversation as I pondered his words. It certainly was an odd way for someone to make up a fight, usually people bought flowers, chocolate, or go on a fancy date. Franklin, however, always had a way of apologizing in the most obnoxious and ridiculous ways that were incredibly sweet, but also made me want to bang my head against the wall. He had stopped flipping the pancakes, anxiously awaiting my reply to his apology. The slight char they were getting wafted a burnt smell through the air.

“This is the first thing you thought of for an apology?” I giggled out breaking the tense silence, his shoulders relaxed as he let out an audible puff of breath. I may have found this funny but I wasn’t going to let him off the hook just yet.

“Well- you know me, I’m not very good at apologies.” He said in a regretful tone, turning back to the pancakes finally removing the almost carbonized pancake from the skillet. A cringe made its way onto his face after catching sight of the rubbery burnt cake and swiftly chucked it in the trash. “I really am sorry Y/N.”

“You’re saying that now because your back hurts- Am I right?” I narrowed my eyes suspiciously, still not fully accepting this apology.

“No, that’s not the main reason I’m apologizing, but yes, oh my god my back fucking hurts.” His right hand started to massage his sore back as his other poured in the last scrapes of pancakes, sprinkling it with an exorbitant amount of chocolate chips. My mouth was watering at the sight and delicious aroma.

“How long have you been wearing it?” I asked, trying to distract myself from the heavenly scent.

“Like 10 minutes, I totally understand why you waddle now” Flipping over the last pancake, he started to set the table, his waddles were even more awkward compared to mine because of his long limbs.

“Well now that you understand, you’d better be massaging my feet everyday to make up for it.” I sharply stated though I couldn’t help but slip in a few giggles in between. I had been carrying this baby close to 9 months and Franklin could barely handle 10 minutes without keeling over.

“Yes, of course. I promise.” He set the plates of pancakes down on our round table, then pulled out one of the chairs and helped me sit down. I noticed that he had even set up the silverware in its supposed proper place along with the napkins folded into little triangles, he did go all out to make it up to me.“You know, you're the actual god in this family.” He remarked as he slung off the baby sling, relieving the tension from his back. I wished I could do the same.

“I love you, you big weirdo.” I snorted in response. While his godliness was usually referring to his bowling skills, it was nice to have my literal creation and carrying of life inside of me acknowledged too.

“I love you too” He wrapped his arms around me from behind, pressing soft kisses to my neck and rubbing my belly, silently assuring me that everything would be alright.

#franklin #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler x reader #franklin x reader #mgg #mgg fluff #mgg x reader #beginner’s luck #franklin imagine #franklin fanfic #franklin fanfiction #matthew gray gubler fanfiction #matthew gray gubler fic

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fishoutofcamelot · 3 years

Note

Hi there! I hope you’re well. I just wanted to send a message to thank you for the elyan content 😍 he is my favourite knight but for some reason I never see much of him on tumblr! So it’s awesome to see him on your blog. I hope I didn’t bother you with this ask 🙈

I AM doing well, actually! And you didn’t bother me, asks will probably never bother me <3

I could go on for a million years about why no one makes content about Elyan - and sometimes forget he exists altogether - but I don’t wanna start drama so we’ll just. Not touch that topic with a 10-foot pole

BUT! Elyan IS a fantastic knight, and the fact that he is your favourite knight too is very iconic and sexy of you. Elyan fans/stans are the sexiest members of this fandom. That’s not even opinion, that’s just science

So! Here’s a list of Elyan headcanons, because he’s worth it:

Elyan is ace. Them’s the facts

He’s also gay but in that stage where he’s questioning if he might be bi. Unfortunately, he died before reaching an answer

I hate to talk about Hogwarts Houses in 2020, but he is one hell of a Hufflepuff. Elyan is his name and protecting his loved ones with life and limb is his game. It is very easy to earn his loyalty, and once you have he will ride straight through Hell for you

Elyan likes hoods. He wears hoods whenever he can (i mean c’mon, that outfit in season 3 was serving some killer looks)

He’s just a protective older brother to literally everyone in Camelot. Yes, even Gaius

Gwen, Elyan, Leon, and Merlin have family game night once every month. They all gather in their old house in the lower town to get drunk, play some dice games, and spend the whole night goofing off

Only a few people know about game night. Even fewer people have seen it with their own eyes. Arthur and Gwaine frequently try to sneak in to see game night for themselves, but somehow never succeed

Elyan loves swimming. They don’t get many chances for it, but whenever they do, Elyan is the best swimmer out of all the knights

He’s also like. Really good at sneaking up on people. Consistently rolls high on stealth checks

Out of everyone in the Round Table, Elyan is the most easily spooked. He hates it when they gather around the fire to tell ghost stories, bc he will NOT be able to sleep the rest of the night after that

Why do people think there’s no dynamic or chemistry between Elyan and Gwaine??? Those two had a SOLID friendship and I will not stand for this disrespect (also, Perelyan is good but Elyaine is godtier imo)

Elyan is bad at blacksmithing. Like really bad. No one even understands how that works, considering he spent his whole childhood training under his father. All the blacksmithing talent apparently went to Gwen somehow

He likes bugs. When he was a kid he would go out in the woods and collect beetles and stuff to stick in little terrarium jars. He’d even give them names and backstories and personalities. Sometimes he would sit under a tree and tell Gwen stories about all these adventures his bugs would go on when no one was looking

Leon HATED bugs, and got creeped out by them, which meant Elyan was legally obligated to harass him about it

Elyan doesn’t get much chance to catch bugs anymore, but he’s also the only member of the Round Table who can put up with spiders

Spider in the armory? Everyone is freaking out while Elyan just calmly picks it up and lets it outside - but not without lots of snark and eye-rolling, of course

The reason Elyan ran away from home was because his mother had died and he saw it as a personal failing. He felt that it was his fault she was dead, because he couldn’t protect her, and left Camelot because he couldn’t bear the shame of guilt

In the last few years of his time away from Camelot, Elyan fell in love and lived out an mlm cottagecore fantasy where he and his lover raised wyverns together. But when Morgause came to capture him, she killed his lover and burnt their wyvern farm to the ground

Elyan tries not to let his grief be known, though. Not just because he doesn’t want to burden Gwen with his pain, but also because his lover had magic and he could get arrested for having fallen in love with a sorcerer

Morgause had Elyan captive for a while before Gwen showed up. She even used the nathair on him in small increments; not long enough to kill him or damage him irreparably, but enough to make him suffer. It’s for this reason that Elyan was able to bounce back from being tortured by Morgana whereas Gwaine didn’t survive it, because Morgause had already microdosed him with that kind of pain two years ealier

Still traumatizing, though. Like. This boy is EXTREMELY traumatized, can someone please get him some therapy???

Moving back to Camelot with Gwen was simultaneously healing and harming. Healing, because he visited his dad’s grave, rebuilt his relationship with Gwen, and his companionship with her, Merlin, and Leon helped him move on from the pain of his loss. But harming because of all the anti-magic prejudice that surrounded him, and every time someone said magic was evil it was like another dagger in his heart. That was his dead lover they were talking about and calling a monster. Someone who was kind and compassionate and funny, who didn’t have a lick of evil in them, who would have burned at the stake by Camelot’s laws

Elyan didn’t think about what it meant to be a knight of Camelot when he agreed to be knighted. But he was just so determined to fight and kill Morgause, the woman who had killed his lover and his wyverns and abducted him from his home, that he didn’t even think about it. He just wanted Morgause dead. It wasn’t until a few days later when he realized that being a knight of Camelot meant enforcing Camelot’s anti-magic laws, and this realization naturally caused him distress

Instead of abandoning his knighthood, Elyan found a compromise. He would support Arthur in everything, until magic got involved. If Arthur ever captured druids or put sorcerers to death, Elyan decided he would smuggle them out of the city. He would never actively kill or capture those with magic, and would sometimes even try to sabotage efforts in capturing harmless magic-users

Elyan knew full well what Dragoon was doing. He knew that Gwen and Arthur’s love was true and required no enchantment, meaning Dragoon had simply framed himself to get Gwen out of a jam. He appreciates Dragoon, and even though he supposedly killed Uther, Elyan can’t even fault him for that. Elyan wanted to kill Uther too

Merlin is the little brother Elyan always wanted, and Elyan is the older brother Merlin never had. They act so much like siblings it’s not even funny, and some people question if they were actually raised together

He and Merlin like to team up and tease Gwen. They’ll walk behind her and chant stuff like “Gwen and Arthur sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G”. They’re like children, and it’s both very funny and very annoying

Gwen gets her revenge, of course. She always gets her revenge

They also team up to be like. Super protective of Gwen. The vetting process Arthur had to go through - between Elyan, Leon, AND Merlin - in order to date Gwen was ridiculous

Arthur: Merlin I’m literally your boss. Your friend. You've been my personal manservant for like six years now

Merlin: Yeah, which means I know exactly how much of a dick you are

After being possessed by the druid ghost, Elyan is a lot more in tune with the supernatural

Am I suggesting that Elyan can now see, talk to, and interact with ghosts, and even starts a little agency where he goes around helping them complete their unfinished business? Why yes, yes I am

When Gwen was banished, Elyan wanted to go with her. But she asked him to stay behind and keep an eye on Agravaine, as she suspected him of treachery, and to stop him from taking over Camelot should Agravaine make a move. And, well, Elyan has never been able to say no to his sister

Elyan and Merlin decided to try and find a way to prove Gwen’s innocence. There’s no way she was acting of her own accord, after all. There was some kind of enchantment at play, there had to be. Merlin doesn’t tell him about Shade!Lancelot directly, but does propose it as a theory regarding how Lancelot had come back from the dead. Elyan supports the theory 100%

About two months after the wedding, Merlin and Elyan locate the enchanted bracelet, and Gwen and Lancelot’s names are finally cleared

In Avalon, Elyan, Freya, and Lancelot spend the whole time watching/narrating the events of season 5 like sports commentators. They are all mutually exasperated at Merlin’s antics

When Arthur shows up in Avalon, the only reason Elyan doesn’t punch him in the face is because he’s too busy restraining Lance from doing the same

He does, however, give him a strong talking-to about how “all your magic and you still can’t save my life” is a horrible thing to say actually

Lancelot, however, is more upset about the “I guess I was wrong” speech

Gwaine shows up in Avalon like. SUPER traumatized. He died while being tortured by a nathair, died in a way that he perceived to be failure, and he’s kinda messed up because of that. Elyan, who has already had a few years to cope with nathair torture, is the one who helps Gwaine heal from his trauma

In the 21st century, Elyan gets reincarnated along with everyone else. His childhood is plagued with weird dreams, dreams that terrify him. Snakes and pain, wyverns and fire, all of it. He meets an old man who calls himself Merlin, who helps Elyan through the pain of remembering his past life. For once, Elyan gets to be taken care of instead of the other way around. For once, he is allowed to be vulnerable and weak and struggling. He doesn’t hide his tears. He gets the help he needs and works through his trauma

And one day, many years later, he is walking down the street when he sees someone who looks oddly familiar. The face of an old lover, perhaps

Thanks for the ask! <3

#Merlin Fandom Stop Forgetting About Elyan Challenge #bbc merlin #merlin bbc #merlin #bbcm #ask #fish post

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years

Text

She [7]

Warnings: non-consent sex (series)

This is dark! Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Series Synopsis: Steve Rogers’ life is turned upside down by a reporter.

Chapter Summary: The reader finds herself busy.

Note: I have these chapters done so I’ll keep posting till the end.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Reader

You met with Rashida at the beginning of the next week. Only three days after your last encounter. Since then, you’d found yourself watching over your shoulder. As you left your building, walked to the station, passed through the broad doors of the tall tower where Motley’s offices resided... You were overly alert and entirely uncertain.

Yet you didn’t see anything more than before. The man in the hoodie didn’t catch your eye and in a subway car full of the same dark sweaters, how would you even pick him out? You felt hopeless. Maybe he stopped. Maybe it was one of Fury’s men keeping tabs on you. Maybe he hadn’t been following you at all.

You shook away all those questions as you hit the buzzer and waited for the crackly speaker. Rashida was quick to let you up and welcomed you into an apartment as small as your own. The space was a cluster of children’s toys and mismatched furniture. You sat at the round table as she offered you something to drink. She brought you a glass of water and sat across from you.

“Maya’s at school til three,” She said as she leaned an arm on the table. “I’d rather she not be here.”

“I understand,” You took out your notebook. “Do you mind if I record this?”

She rubbed two fingers along the plastic tablecloth. “Recorded?”

“For me only. The audio won’t be released. And as before, this will all be on record until you say it’s not.” You coaxed. “We stop when you say.”

“Sure,” She nodded. “I do have a real job, you know. I work breakfast down at this diner.” She pointed at the window. “It’s just not cutting it.”

You set your phone down and hit the red button and took your pen.

“Do most of the women have other jobs?” You asked.

“Most, if not all. Some of them only come around when they finish down at the strip joints,” She leaned back, a little more relaxed. “I… Selene said she’d talk to you. If you wanted. I just don’t know how much she’ll talk. She still hasn’t told me everything.”

“Really?” Your lashes fluttered in excitement. “Yeah, anything she has-- Any other girls you know, I could use anything.”

She exhaled and ran her thumb along her middle finger.

“I wanna help them, you know? Not just me. Because I’m just one of a lot. A lot.” She shook her head. “And they get younger and younger. Used to be I worried about protecting the young ones, now we’re all just thinking about ourselves.”

“I heard about Saturday,” You said. “You know her?”

“No, but I found her. Arm broke, face cut,” Her fingers closed to a fist. “She fought him and he fought back but now she’s marked. Forever.”

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to redirect for a little bit.” You said gently. “I don’t want you to think about the attacks. I want to know about you. Tell me about your first night there.”

She squinted. “Why?”

“Because...you matter. And if people see that you’re human, that’s how they’ll see all the rest.” You shifted in your seat. “It won’t just be numbers printed beside some add for dry cleaning. It will be people.”

She thought and swallowed. She pressed her lips together.

“It was only supposed to be the one night,” She began. “Just needed to make up the last of the rent…”

🖋️

Poppy sat in her usual spot. Her desk was her throne and you were all just her subjects. He ashy hair was pinned up so only a single curl framed her face. Her structured blouse was a rich fuschia and the bow was much too big and tacky. You looked down at your tweed jacket with the three-quarter sleeves and a moment of doubt took you. You didn’t belong here with her.

You took a breath and approached her office. You knocked on the transparent door and she didn’t look up. She flicked two fingers for you to enter as she kept her eyes on the tablet propped up against her desk.

“What is it?” She asked, still scrolling through the black text.

“I’m… supposed to give you my pitch,” You looked at the clock above her head. “It’s noon.”

“Go on then,” She still didn’t look at you.

You glanced at the chair but didn’t sit. You hated the cold, hard seat. You neared her desk and laid down your single sheet.

“In the last four months, there has been a string of assaults on a block which hosts a slew of prostitutes. The women who have been attacked all bear the same scars; from hairline to chin.” You said evenly. “I intend to write about these women who work there and get their stories and what is being done, or not being done, by the police.”

She slowly looked up through her half-moon glasses. She let the tablet lay flat and sat back in the tall white leather chair.

“Prostitutes? You mean the most common victims of assault? Hardly revolutionary reporting.” She sniffed.

“Think about it. Each woman who has been attacked in this manner has survived but she has been marked. It’s like… Jack the Ripper. He’s circling the block. Don’t you think one day he’ll get bored of just a slice? Saturday, a girl’s arm was broken too. It’s the first major injury beside the cuts.” You slid your printed pitch closer to her. “It’s only a matter of time before this is the new Whitechapel.”

She lifted a brow and reached to take the paper. Her eyes glossed over the text and she looked up at you again.

“This really what you wanna do?” She asked.

“Yeah, I’ve already have interviews lined up.” You assured her. “I think this could be good. It might even help stop these assaults before they cross that line.”

She chuckled and shook her head.

“We’ll see,” She set the page down. “I hope you don’t miss the mail room that bad.”

You withheld a frown and left her as she shooed you with her hand. Her confidence was disheartening. You wondered if maybe you’d taken a wild misstep. If perhaps you had gotten ahead of yourself.

You sat at your desk and grabbed your phone. You took the folded paper beneath it; the list of names and numbers Rashida had given you the day before. Well, you had to make your shot and if you missed, it could be fatal.

🖋️

You spent the rest of your day calling the women and trying to arrange further interviews. Selene, though she sounded nervous, agreed and only one other; Tess. It was a start and a better one than you expected. Then you put in your earbuds and listened to the recording of your second meeting with Rashida. You transcribed diligently as you tuned out those around you.

You were spooked by a tap on your shoulder. You tore out your ear bud and glanced at Essie. She smiled as you closed out your work and turned to her. She had her Barbie pink purse on her elbow and her phone in her other hand. It must have been later than you thought.

“Hey, Rima and I are going for a drink. We were wondering if you wanted to come. It’s been a while.” She smiled.

Essie had started at the same time as you; she, an intern as you were relegated to the mail room. Still, you shared a sense of comradery as she had been a constant in your time at Motley. You peeked back at your screen and checked the time in the corner. You shrugged. There wasn’t much else you could do that night.

“I could do a drink.” You stood. “I heard you were doing a piece on some new designer?”

“Yeah,” She chimed proudly as you shut off your computer and grabbed your purse. “I’m hoping it can get me an interview at Elle or Vogue. You know this place isn’t really the height of fashion.”

“No, not at all,” You chuckled. “Surprising, given Poppy’s wardrobe.”

“The devil wears fake prada,” Essie snorted. A taller woman appeared at her side; Rima’s sharp bob highlighted the angles of her jaw.

“Hey,” Rima said as she pouted, her lips smooth beneath a coat of dark lipstick. “We aren’t going to that horrible Pop place again. Those lights give me a headache.”

“It was called Bubble and you didn't mind so much after that shot of tequila.” Essie chided.

“No tequila for me,” You intoned. “I’ve got an interview tomorrow.”

“We’ll see,” Essie said coyly.

You shook your head and even Rima’s dour sneer cracked.

“No dancing,” Rima declared. “It’s not even Friday yet.”

“Then you’ll owe me on Friday,” Essie countered as she led the way between desks. “And a shot.”

🖋️

You sipped your gin slowly. You didn’t need a hangover on top of everything else and you weren’t really in the mood for alcohol. Or the chatty New York barroom. As always, you regretted your inclination to be social. You’d rather be at home, hypnotized by a screen as you tried to decide what to order on your pizza.

You didn’t talk much, you didn’t really care about the new pop star or onset romance. Rima barely seemed to stomach it herself but indulged Essie in her tabloid dreams. The night wore on as you found your glass empty and hid it behind your arm as you smiled. You were eager to find an excuse to leave before midnight.

“Ugh, I gotta break the seal,” Essie whined. “Damn.”

“Too bad,” Rima said dryly. “Don’t fall in.”

“Wow, love you too,” She huffed. “I thought this was a girls’ night.”

“You’re a big girl. You can handle it.” Rima teased. “I’m comfortable right here.”

Essie frowned and looked at you. You shrugged. You had been avoiding the smelly bathrooms. She spun around sharply and marched away in defeat. It was quiet for a moment, then Rima’s voice pierced through those around you.

“I read your article. On Captain America,” She said. “Very… interesting. I hear he’s been in hiding.”

“Oh?” You blinked at her. “I haven’t really… been paying attention. Gotta keep up with my new story.”

“New story?” She mused. “You mean… everyone in town is talking about Steve Rogers and you have the scoop and you’re just going to toss it away.”

“What scoop?” You asked.

“Well, what happened off the record?” She snickered. “We are all so curious and our imaginations do get the best of us.”

“It was… I just left,” You said. “Really. It wasn’t that… dramatic.”

“Oh, but we all got a taste of that temper. You must’ve been terrified.” She prodded. “Weren’t you? A man that big--”

“Why are you so curious?” You wondered.

“Just… am.” She grabbed her drink and you glimpsed her phone behind her forearm. She drank and you saw the familiar red dot and ticking timer. “You were right. Those avengers, they need--”

“Are you recording me?” You asked. “What the fuck, Rima?”

“What, oh no?” She looked down. “I must have hit it by accident.”

“Bull shit.” You pushed away your empty glass. “I should’ve… I should go. I have a lot to do tomorrow.”

“Really, it wasn’t--”

“Save it. You can find your own story. I’m not it.” You hissed and saw Essie emerge from the bathrooms. You grabbed your purse and stormed over to her. “I’ll see you at the office.”

“What? Wait? Where are you going?”

“Home. I’m too old for this place,” You stopped on your heel. “Have fun.”

🖋️

The next day, you chose to forego your check-in at the office. Your pitch was approved, you’d sent your transcription to the cloud, and you weren’t so eager to see Rima again. You would see Selene at noon and hunker down back at your apartment, hopefully with even more to work with.

You left at ten. Enough time to stop and grab a bite between transfers. At midtown, you got a bagel and tea and sat in the cafe that smelled of cinnamon and beans. You spread the cream cheese and the door opened and closed. The line was growing longer and longer and you thanked your luck at getting ahead of it.

As you bit into your bagel and a seed stuck to your lip, you were surprised by an unexpected figure before you. You looked up and nearly choked. Steve Rogers wore a navy tee and jeans; much more casual than the captain presented to the world. You grabbed a napkin and covered your mouth as you chewed and swallowed.

“Steve?” You blinked.

“Hey, I know this is…” He looked around. “Weird. I was just coming in to grab a smoothie and I didn’t think it was you.”

“Oh?” You looked at the green drink in his hand. “Yeah, uh, coincidence.”

“Well, I’ve had to kinda change things up lately. Not gonna lie, I had to outrun a man with a camera a few blocks back.” He raised his brow in exasperation.

“Look, what has happened, the reaction, it’s not what I meant--” You found it hard to speak. You imagined your last week and a half had been much easier than his; even with all the chaos. “I was trying to show that you were more than a shield. That you weren’t just the righteous war hero and I guess…”

“Do you mind if I sit?” He asked. “Just for a second.”

“Uh, yeah,” You said hesitantly. You folded the wrapper over the bagel as he took the chair across from you.

“I got angry. That’s on me.” He said and paused to sip his smoothie. “And you’re right, I’m not perfect. I think the world should see that. I’d… like to do another interview.”

“Steve, look, I understand what you’re trying to do but it’s already out there. It can’t be taken back, people have already decided on what they think. I’m sorry but I can’t undo it.” You said.

“I know,” He was on the edge of his chair. “I’m not looking to clear anything up, I know that can’t be done. I just want a second chance. To paint a clearer, fuller picture of myself.”

“I… I’m real sorry but I’m in the middle of something else and I just think it might be too soon for all that.” You rubbed your neck. “Steve, I really am sorry about how it turned out.”

“For me then. You don’t have to promise a story. If you think it’s garbage, toss it.” He pleaded. “But I’d just like to do it for me. For closure. And if it ends up on the newsstand, all the better. If not, well, I know I tried to fix things.”

“I… guess I could… it would have to be tomorrow at the soonest. I have another interview this afternoon and I’d have to prepare.” You explained.

“Tomorrow,” He nodded and stood. “Perfect.”

“Alright. Does one o’clock work?” You asked.

“It works. Um, come in the back?” He said as a wrinkle deepened in his forehead. “There’s a bit of an issue with the front door. It’s a bit crowded.”

“Ah,” You nodded, “Right.”

“If you’re coming from the subway, you want to turn down the little bike path off the street before. There’s a red ornament on my gate, a little star.”

“Alright. I’ll see ya then.” You tried to smile but found it hard.

“Oh, and…” He grabbed his cup. “I’m sorry too. I wasn’t very nice and I knew you’d ask questions. It’s your job. I’m better than that.”

“It’s really nothing. I’ve dealt with worse.” You assured him.

“Okay. Tomorrow.” He tapped the table top. “Thanks for letting me interrupt your breakfast.”

You watched him go and he passed the window without another glance. There was a pit in your stomach. A sudden guilt. You’d caused him so much trouble and you’d been so concerned with yourself. So bad he was practically begging to talk.

You had completely misjudged him. He wasn’t an angry man, he was only human. He made mistakes like everyone else. He should, at least, be allowed that one flaw.

#Steve Rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers x reader #she #series #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #mcu #marvel #captain america #au

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farouchelyoptimistic · 4 years

Text

HyunJi: Rekindle

Part 2

It was too good to be true. To beautiful and free. It was too easy. It felt too perfect. But in a world as cruel as the one we live in, nothing comes too easy. Everything great has a price, everyone has a hurdle to face. It was bound to head to a turning point, they both knew that. They never brought it up to each other, but they were fully aware of it. They thought, that maybe if they just try to ignore the flashing red warning signs, everything would remain to be okay.

It's natural to turn a blind eye to things that threaten our happiness, it's human nature. When we get a taste of something that makes us immeasurably happy, we long to protect it, to guard it so it's not taken away from us. We end up being liars, fooling ourselves that everything will be fine when it clearly won't.

Yea Ji eyes the hand that reached out to rest over hers. She stares at it for a second, releasing a bitter smile before she looks up at the owner of the warmth that spread from it.

Soo Hyun lets out a short breath, inching closer beside her on the couch. They were at a private area in a cafe, away from the rest of the prying eyes, sharing a couch and a table filled with sweets and coffee.

It had always been like that. Lunches and dinners in secret, private lounges, and private rooms. They spent precious time together away from the public eye, enjoying the privacy and the freedom they seldom attain. They weren't considered dates, they never acknowledged their meetups as dates. They also never acknowledged what they exactly were.

They weren't lovers, and the deep attraction they had for each other definitely made them more than just friends. All they know is that they enjoy each other's company and that whenever they were with each other they feel this certain type of happiness that they can't explain. They weren't in a relationship, but a part of them---buried deep in an unspoken pile---wanted to be. But they knew it was a luxury they couldn't have.

The first time they saw each other in that pudding commercial, the attraction to each other was undeniable. Shy glances and nervous laughter we're shared all throughout the shoot. They were walking on eggshells around each other, sharing curious looks from the corner of their eyes, smiling to themselves like giddy school kids.

It was new to both of them. Feeling an attraction as strong as the winds of a sunny spring day. It was so strong that every glance felt like a stare, every brush of a finger felt like a warm caress. It was so strong that when he finally gathered all his confidence to ask her to have coffee together, she said yes without even the tiniest bit of hesitation.

They could barely look at each other in the eye, but as the smell of freshly brewed coffee in that small studio cafeteria calmed their nerves and the afternoon transgresses to night, their conversation flowed in a synced momentum. Then it advanced to more coffees in hidden cafes, then it became lunches and dinners to mundane conversations that would last a few hours until the wee hours of dawn when her voice was as deep as the sun buried under the darkness.

But just like pretty things that seem too good to be true, the universe sends you a reality check to bite you in the ass. Telling you that you've been too complacent. That all pretty things must always come from something painful and horrible. Like diamonds morphed under the extreme pressure and painful heat of the ground.

They've been running around the bush for so long, and now it's burning, and it's starting to hurt.

"Mianhae." He gently rubs smalls circles on the back of her palm. He did it gradually, steadily. He was aware of the weariness she felt about intimacy and the sudden touches, and he respected that greatly. He always made sure he was careful around her, not to spook of her of his sudden hand-holding and other forms of relief for his longing of more of her.

"Hmm." She only replies with a hum. She didn't need to ask why he was saying sorry. She knew. It had been a month since she last saw him, filming ads, shows, and whatnot. The longest he's ever had without contacting her. It used to be three days, then sometimes a week. The longest would have been two weeks. Now it was a month.

Time was also a luxury they didn't have. He was a top celebrity, his career rising to the stars. And she was a rookie, a newbie even. She still had to fight tooth and nail to make a name for herself. He would be gone for long, he would disappear, and then at the most unexpected moment, he reappears. That's why she knew they wouldn't work. And he knew it too. And he felt guilty about it every single time.

He couldn't give her one hundred percent of his time. Even if he wanted to, he also didn't know if he had the right. They were just two people who enjoyed spending time with each other, unlabeled. In denial of all the feelings, they refuse to acknowledge because they both knew that they couldn't.

It was a dangerous risk to take. A deadly ocean to jump into. The media will eat them alive, it will feed on every bit of their souls. And she knew, she knew for sure that it will destroy them. And she wasn't sure if what they had was something worth breaking for.

They continue to go in this rollercoaster of internal lies. That it was okay if they go to another dinner together. It was okay to hold her hand because he wanted to. It was okay to stare at his eyes because she thought they were beautiful. It was okay to call her in the middle of the night because he wanted to hear her voice. It was okay to keep pretending that they would work. It was okay, when in fact it wasn't.

She knew there was more to his apology. It was time to stop pretending. It was time to put an end to the charade they have been playing, it was time to put an end to the game that only had losers---no winners. Before it destroys them more than it already is, they have to come to a decision whether to dive into the ocean infested with sharks or stay housed in a boat.

With an unspoken conversation, a decision was made. For the sake of skyrocketing careers, privacy, peace of mind, and unbroken hearts, they had to make the safest decision. To stay housed on a boat. On different boats, destined to sail towards different directions, away from each other. It was safe to stay in one boat, together, but it was safest apart. They couldn't be together because they could never give each other what they deserved.

"I wish I could give you all my time. All my attention. My all. I can't continue disappearing on you, that would be unfair. Seeing you maybe once or twice a month would be enough, for me. But it won't be enough for us." His voice falters, looking at her hand inside his. He lets out a sigh, stroking her hand with utmost gentleness.

"I wish I could give you my all too. Without being terrified of the inevitable. Without the weariness that grows on me in your absence, without the uncertainty." She sighs, looking at her hand in his.

They couldn't bring themselves to look at each other, because if they do, they might just back out and succumb to the cowardice of the feelings that have been demanding to be felt.

"It's time to wake up." She whispers, silent, but loud enough for him to hear. He could only nod his head. What they shared was too perfect, it was a dream. Too perfect for the reality of the world. They've been dreaming together for too long and now they had to wake up.

"Kinchana." He says in a soft voice, gently putting his arm around her shoulder, gently pulling her towards him. She allows his warmth to radiate towards her. She allows him for the last time. She lets out a breath and rests her head against him.

He looks down at her, he lashes long as it brushed her soft skin. He tried to memorize every part of her before he can't see her anymore. He had a feeling this was going to be the last time, and it ached. His eyes land on her lips. He didn't even get to kiss her. He wanted to ask if he could, but he knew he shouldn't. He wanted to tell her they should remain friends, but he doesn't want to. Because he could never live with being just her friend.

He decided not to do anything. Not to say anything. When she slides out of his hold and walks away without looking back, they had both finally woken up from the dream they desperately wanted to stay in.

What happened between them was like fireworks. It sent a rush of sparks all over; it brought colorful luminous light in the dark sky. It provided serenity in the loudness of its existence. Beautiful and electrifying, perfect even. Free. Yet, it was short-lived.

A beautiful dream you have to wake up to.

° ° °

"Annyeong." Soo Hyun politely nods his head, smiling as he greets a familiar face from his new company. He immediately eyes the two cups of iced coffee in the tray he was holding, and he immediately knew who it was for. He grinned, snatching both cups before he enters the room.

Everyone inside greets him, making him smile as he returned the greeting with a courteous bow of the head. It was the very first script reading of his new drama, and a few of the cast members were already there. He politely greets everyone, approaching them with a warm shy smile. He would've shaken their hands, but he was holding two cups of coffee.

He scans around the room until his eyes land on the person he's been meaning to see. His smile only grows wider. His feet glides towards where she was sitting, locking his eyes with hers as she stared at him.

"Hi." He muses with a shy silent voice, gently placing the coffee in front of her. She stares at the cup for a few seconds, before looking up at him.

"It's from the company." He quickly retorts, scratching the back of his nape. When she smiles, a relieved breath escapes from him. He chuckles, taking his seat beside her.

"Komawo." She turns to him in confusion, lifting her brows.

"Boya?"

He chuckles to himself, suddenly shy of the burst of confidence he had. He could barely look at her under his cap, but he did.

"For accepting the role. I'm happy to be working with you." She couldn't help but smile, looking away. She clears her throat and nods her head.

"I'm happy to be working with you too." It was a role worth taking a risk for. It was challenging and difficult, but it was something she was determined to take on. She was always one who loved conquering a challenge. It felt so much better to accomplish something remotely hard compared to something basic.

Before anyone of them could say anything more, the room is immediately filled with the rest of the cast members along with the writer and the director. Greetings, laughter and inaudible chitchat resonate as everyone delves into getting to know each other. Old friends meet again and new friendships form.

The reading was remotely fun. It was one of the best scripts they both have ever read. It was comical and theatrical, yet emotionally deep and engaging. It was a masterpiece. They immediately dive into the dynamics of their characters, getting know their emotions, figuring out how to tell their stories.

Soo Hyun was initially engrossed with his character's selflessness and kindness. The ability to mask one's real emotions in order to protect another's was moving. Yea Ji on the other hand immediately felt the challenge coming her way. Her character was like no other, unique and unnatural. The persona was so strong, powerful, yet vulnerable in deeply boxed silence. Other than that, everyone was hysterical at the vulgar abundance of cursing and innuendos. This was definitely going to be a long ride, not only for the mains for everyone else.

"Thank you, everyone!" The director expresses his gratitude at the end of the reading, a round of applause following suit. He personally gives everyone a warm handshake until he reaches the last two main leads who politely smiled and bowed to him.

"You two, wow! You surprised me so much. You look so good together! It's like you were meant to be in this project with each other." He clasps his hands, admiring the two actors who could only showcase shy smiles and grateful nods.

"I look forward to start filming." He shakes their hands before he proceeds to talk with a few others.

After a few conversations and photo ops, the room had slowly emptied until there was barely a few people left. The director and the writer had left, so we're most if the cast and staff. Soo Hyun was still there in his seat, glancing over Yea Ji who had scanned her copy of the script a few times, marking a few lines that she had found striking.

When she unconsciously looks up, she was surprised to find out that the room was almost empty. The only ones left behind were just her, three of the cast members engulfed in a conversation, some staff and Soo Hyun. She had totally got carried away with reading the script, it was just too inviting.

She scrambles to gather her things, neatly shoving them inside her bag as she stands up. Soo Hyun for the same at the sight of her swift movements. He grabs his belongings in a hash, stumbling over a chair as he stands up.

"Yea Ji-ah." He immediately calls to her, surprised at his own impulse. When she turns to him, bag already in tow, he has a loss for words. He takes in a breath and swallows an invisible lump before he manifests all the confidence he has.

"Do y-you want to have dinner?" She stammers, surprised at his offer. She tries to think whether to decline or accept his offer when he chimes in again.

"You know, to talk about the script. Uhm, get comfortable with each other before we start filming. Uhm, to talk? Just like old times?" He bites his lip after the last sentence. Just like old times. Idiot. He should not have said that. His heart suddenly starts to beat faster, his foot tapping on the floor.

"Okay." Her answer surprises him. He almost stumbles in his footing, making her slightly chuckle.

"We're friends, aren't we? Talking and dinner. It's what friends do." She says. They were friends. Finally, after years, they have found themselves a suitable label. Friends.

She was looking straight at him while he struggles to hold her gaze. She chuckles at his uneasiness. He never changed.

Enclosed by the four walls of the private booth, they enjoy their dinner in peace, away from the public eye. It almost felt like it was just like the old times. But unlike the endless flow of conversations a few years back, this time, the only sound that filled their ears was of silence.

Soo Hyun breaks it first by clearing his throat, making her look up at him. He gulps some water, setting the glass down on the table as he releases a breath, looking straight at her.

"This is so awkward." He says nonchalantly. Eyes wide, and lips in a thin line.

There was a pregnant pause between them as they stared at each other. None of them blinked, or moved, statued in their seats as they looked at each other's equally enticing eyes. When he breaks eye contact, blinking at his painfully dried eyes, she bursts into light chuckles.

"You're good." He laughs, wiping his tears with a table napkin. They look at each other again and laugh, filling the empty booth with the melody of the inherent laughter. It had been so long since they shared a laugh just like this, something they used to share so often.

"It is pretty awkward." Yea Ji admits, chuckling as their laughter slowly dies down.

"It was better when you were flicking my forehead." He muses, suddenly remembering one of their first few encounters over dinner which involved him getting flicked in the forehead and curling up in pain. It was one of the most memorable nights in his life because it ended with him resting his head on her lap as she iced the red mark on his forehead.

They share another banter of laughter with the memory. Just like old times.

"I wonder if it still hurts as much." He coyly suggests, immediately regretting it when she suddenly leans over and flicks his forehead. He lets out a pained gasp, clutching his forehead as they laughed in unison. He tries to endure the pain, smiling as he tried sit straight and lean against the table just as he did the last time. His quivering lips morph into a smile as his tears start to pool in his eyes.

"Oppa, kinchana?" Yea Ji giggles, holding in her laughter. When he couldn't hold it in anymore, they both hilariously cackle. She grabs the table napkin and passes it to him to wipe his tears.

"Glad to know it still hurts the same." He laughs, rubbing his forehead. Locking eyes with each other again, they explode in another wave of loud laughter, shaking their heads.

"How are you?" He says in between pained laughter, finally toppling down the invisible wall that had been built between them. She chuckles, leaning against her seat as she starts talking. He smiles. Because just like old times, the conversations flowed so smoothly and naturally that if the restaurant staff didn't inform them about closing, they wouldn't have left.

#its okay to not be okay #psycho but its okay #kim soo hyun #seo yea ji #hyunji #hyunjicouple

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