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klixxy · 3 years

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weekly fic recs

(ft. my bookmark comments - mostly mha and voltron)

boku no hero academia:

what is right and what is easy - theroyalsavage

(bnha; tododeku; fluff + angst; 2k words; oneshot)

Midoriya Izuku is not chosen to represent Hogwarts in the Triwizard Tournament. He does not slay a dragon, or rescue innocents, or brave a maze of dark magic. He does not win accolades, or fame, or glory.

Instead, Izuku meets the son of the greatest dark wizard of the age, a Durmstrang student with hair like a sunrise and eyes like a war. And maybe, he just might win something else.

If I'm Being Honest.... by I_dont_know_man

(bnha; tododeku; fluff + crack/humor; 26k words; oneshot; truth quirk)

Midoriya scrunched up his nose in confusion. “Uh, Shouto, why are you glaring at me like that?”

“I-” Todoroki began to lie, until nausea slammed him like a door to any room that Bakugou entered. “I--” Todoroki grit his teeth, and glared daggers into the wall behind Midoriya. Goodbye, friendship. It had been absolutely divine while it lasted. “Because you’re very attractive.”

They say honesty is the best policy, but it sure as hell had a knack for Todoroki making a complete and utter fool of himself.

Or: In which Todoroki is placed under a mysterious truth-telling quirk and suffers, Uraraka laughs at him, Midoriya is confused but smitten nonetheless, and Twitter is the thirstiest site on the planet.

paint on our lips (paint on those fingertips) by spicanao

(bnha; tododeku; angst + magical realism; 11k words; oneshot; gallery au)

Galleries are wonderful places. The works seem so vibrant, so beautiful, so alive.

Until they're actually alive.

(Ib AU)

[my bookmarks: holy shit this is beautiful in an odd, poignant, dream-like way]

Todoroki Shouto’s Amateur Guide to Not Fucking Up The Timeline by Anubis_2701

(bnha; tododeku; crack/humor; 13k words; oneshot; time travel; future fic)

All that Todoroki had wanted was milk. Nothing drastic, nothing dramatic, just milk.

Unfortunately, in his quest to get milk, he ended up running into one of the saltiest, most impulsive people this side of the globe. Who also just so happened to have a volatile time-travel quirk.

So yeah, he was fucked. Just slightly. Being punted randomly through time wasn't exactly how he'd wanted to spend his Saturday morning. At least the younger versions of his friends are cute.

awake and (un)afraid, asleep or- by driedupwishes

(bnha; tododeku; fluff + angst + The Feels; 54k words; oneshot; social media/future fic)

“You,” Shoto says, picking his head up from where his screen is filled with The Worst Photograph Ever, curtesy of Shinsou, Jiro, Kaminari, his brother, and nearly everyone they know. “You are so dead to me.”

Kirishima blinks, mouth half open while Izuku mutters oh god, it’s too late, isn’t it on the other end of the phone, before Kirishima is leaning into his space to see his screen.

“Oh,” he says, in response to the photo someone in the crowd of civilians watching the fight had taken of them. “Oh, that’s-” he cuts himself off for a minute, leaning back to eye Shoto’s face while on the other side of the phone Izuku smothers what is probably a laugh, and then changes tracks.

“It’s super manly to love and support your friends,” Kirishima tells Shoto haughtily, as if this whole thing isn't his fault in the first place.

or: Kirishima and Shoto accidentally start trending on Twitter and in retaliation Shoto decides to make an Instagram to showcase all his Hero Deku merchandise, so that everyone knows how much he loves his boyfriend Izuku, and no one expects how quickly it will all spiral out from there

[my bookmarks: broke my heart. i teared up multiple times and even now I'm barely holding back tears.

pure beauty. pulls an incredible amount of emotion from the descriptive language and conveys the love and loneliness and that pulsing ache so well that i thought that my chest would cave in from the force of all the fucking feelings in it. this entire fic was a perfect, awe-inspiring package of fluff, beautiful shoto and class 1a interaction, heartfelt long distance tododeku feels, and almost every single paragraph had my heart fucking squeezing so hard in my chest that i could barely breathe.

i am in awe.]

Hooliganisms by aphrodaisyacs

(bnha; gen/todofam; crack/humor; 17k words; series; social media)

In which an anonymous artist’s street art of Bald Endeavor goes viral, causing a chain of coincidental events and ironic situations to ripple through the lives of everyone- heroes, villains and civilians alike.

[my bookmarks: i'm crying so much from laughter]

Part 1: Where it all begins- the origins of the street artist known as the "Bald Hooligan" and their rise to infamy

Part 2: The spin-off focusing on the unlikely trio whose friendship was borne from the events of Part 1

Daydreaming by AnonymousTwit

(bnha; gen/todobakudeku; angst; 7k words; oneshot; todoroki-centric)

If he'd been more careful, then they'd be fine. If he'd been paying attention, then he wouldn't be alone right now.

But he wasn't and he hadn't, so it's just him, now. It's him, his thoughts, and the unconscious bodies of two of his closest friends as he waits for someone to reach them.

Whether they be friendly or not.

Author has writer's block and coughed up some Todoroki angst in retaliation.

A Study in Firsts by Oceanbreeze7

(bnha; gen; angst + fluff + humor; 76k words; ongoing; class 1a-centric)

There’s a first time for everything.

The first time everyone crammed in Momo’s room to study, a mess of limbs and books on her bed.

The first time Mina burned crepes so badly the smoke alarm went off.

The first time a jumpscare got Sero so badly, he flipped off the back of the couch.

The first time Uraraka fell asleep at the table and accidentally sent it floating.

The first time someone realized Todoroki walked far too quietly, and far too cautiously around the dorms to be normal.

The first time Midoriya broke his toe on a door frame and kept walking through it.

The first time Kirishima woke up screaming through the walls.

The first time Tsuyu blanched at the sight of a needle.

The first time Bakugo dropped, clutching the back of his neck with eyes scarily vacant and detonating everything around him until Aizawa had to intervene.

It wasn’t always pretty, but the dorms were filled with firsts.

Responsibility by deafmic

(bnha; gen; angst + hurt/comfort; 94k words; series (complete); todoroki-centric; dadzawa + papamic)

“I told you outside,” Aizawa chooses his words carefully, reiterating the same point he’s made before. “My responsibility for you doesn’t end at the classroom. Every part of your life is partially my responsibility. Your father doesn’t scare or intimidate me. If you need help, I can get it for you, but you and I both know that you need to ask for it first.”

Aizawa organizes a way for the students to go home for the holidays. Todoroki Shouto, however, gets left behind by his father. Aizawa, annoyed at Endeavor, takes Shouto under his care for the night, and is joined by a certain Yamada Hizashi.

[my bookmarks: *unholy screaming sobbing noises*

an incredible and emotional journey from start to finish.]

the drip of melting ice by walking_through_autumn

(bnha; gen/platonic shintodo; angst + fluff; 19k words; oneshot; todoroki/shinsou-centric ft. dadzawa)

Aizawa found out within a day. It was quite likely due to the dish Todoroki had washed and left to dry in the shared kitchen after the kitten had been fed off it. Hitoshi was forced to reflect that it wasn’t any good hiding the litter and cat food in their wardrobes if Todoroki was going to make a fundamental mistake like that.

Aizawa stood in his door frame and raised an eyebrow. “Well? Where is the cat?”

Hitoshi gave his most disarming smile. “What cat?”

Todoroki chose that moment to exit his room, eyes on his phone, other hand holding a cat toy. He bumped into Aizawa and looked up slowly, like in a horror movie.

“...oh,” Todoroki said. Aizawa raised the other eyebrow. Hitoshi rubbed a hand down his face.

Herbal tea, weekly floor gatherings, spoiled surprises, movie marathons, shared custody over a cat, rain and ice and blankets and plushies, and the journey of falling into a friendship.

(Or: Hitoshi moves into the 2A dormitory at the beginning of his second year, learns who his neighbour is, and makes the friends he had declared he isn't there to have within the space of a semester.)

Hand in Hand in Hand by kngsbrg (Citlalcoatl)

(bnha; todobakudeku; fluff + strangers to lovers; 10k words; oneshot; tea au)

Boiling the water, choosing the right temperature for the right kind of tea, using quality leaves, scooping the precise amount, and letting it steep for just the perfect time...

All that and more is needed to make a delicious cup of tea.

A business that Shouto was quite knowledgeable about.

Spring begins and brings with it the hint of new fresh air, buds waiting to blossom, and just a bit of change.

[my bookmarks: featuring: oblivious teamaker shoto and pining firemen baku and izu]

even if i die (it's you) by monomoon

(bnha; todobaku; fluff + angst + strangers to lovers; 75k words; complete; paramedic au)

Or; where Todoroki never went to UA and, in rejection of his father's ambitions, became a paramedic; and where pro hero Bakugou Katsuki is just a little bit too intrigued with the heterochromatic man who always glares daggers at him whenever he sees him.

When Bakugou was suddenly and abruptly met with two cold, heterochromatic eyes glaring daggers right back at him, he had two immediate thoughts:

"Why does he look like he's plotting my assassination?"

and

"Why the fuck are his eyes so pretty?"

[my bookmarks: UGH THIS IS JUST FUCKING PHENOMENAL- GORGEOUS LOVELY INCREDIBLE HEARTSTOPPING HEARTBREAKING BEAUTIFUL RIDICULOUSLY GOOD POIGNANT I AM RUNNING OUT OF ADJECTIVES BUT IT'S GREAT TRUST ME AKDHJSFNW]

This Is Now by colormesherlocked

(bnha; gen; angst + hurt/comfort + fluff; 193k words; series (ongoing); todoroki-centric)

Todoroki Shoto will be a hero.

...But not just yet. Right now, Todoroki Shoto is a bitter, pessimistic, hurt teenager who doesn't want help, friends or hinderances of any kind getting in the way of his misguided goals.

Thankfully, there will soon be people in his life who will be more than happy to drag him into a place of happiness, safety, and acceptance - kicking and screaming the whole way, if they have to. All he has to do is survive his first meeting with them and all the incredible changes that will come after.

This is Todoroki Shoto's Hero Academia.

(Semi-canon compliant up to a point and told from Todoroki Shoto's POV.)

the league of anti-villains by aizawa_wears_crocs (avenris), avenris

(bnha; gen; angst + fluff + humor; 35k words; ongoing; todobakushinmono-centric)

When he's secretly tasked to find the UA traitor, Todoroki isn't expecting help. He's especially not expecting it from the three other first year students perceived as villainous in their own ways. Unfortunately for him, Shinsou, Monoma and Bakugou have all got something to prove, and his solo mission turns into a team effort that rapidly spirals far beyond what they were expecting to find - but hey, they're in too deep now.

Or: in which the gang solves the mystery of the traitor feat. todoroki family shenanigans, copious amounts of dadzawa, backstory for my favorite 1-B gremlin, and good old-fashioned illegal vigilantism.

such eloquent graffiti by firelilyblooms

(bnha; todobaku; angst + hurt/comfort; 9k words; oneshot; todoroki-centric; future fic)

Todoroki Shouto is sitting cross-legged at his coffee table, hunched over a bowl of instant ramen, when he finds out along with the rest of the world that the Flame Hero, Endeavor, is dead.

Or, Shouto's guide to dealing with death.

[my bookmarks: i am in ✨pain✨:)]

Tell-All by HopeNight

(bnha; todofam; angst; 4k words; oneshot; todofam/natsuo-centric)

When Natsuo is twenty-years-old, he publishes a tell-all book on his father and growing up in his house. This starts a domino effect, of course. With the book comes an investigation and sets the groundwork for the Hawks scandal in several years’ time that will see the disbandment of the Heroic Public Safety Commission and the ascension of pro hero Deku to the Number One slot. This will also lead to a decades long chain of change and progress with Deku wielding his influence and charisma like a sword and shield to make society and the world a little better than when he found it.

In essence, you can say, that Todoroki Natsuo is the true hero of this story with his fake quirk and an anger burning in his gut. Just one small book and suddenly…everything changes. The future is brighter for its existence. The curtains are thrown back and the light begins its work to disinfect and cleanse.

When Todoroki Shouto is in his second year of UA, his brother, Natsuo, publishes a tell-all book of essays about growing up in Endeavor's house.

This is Natsuo's story about how he really changed the path of things.

like an open wound by filzmonster

(bnha; gen; angst + hurt/comfort; 5k words; oneshot; todoroki-centric; manga spoilers)

It's a Sunday and Shouto is making gyoza in the dorm kitchen - or: It's a Sunday and Todoroki has an existential crisis over food.

[my bookmarks: oh my GODDDDDDDDD

*screeches while crying**is a blubbering mess*]

Shouto Todoroki and His Stuffed Eeyore (And Also Childhood Trauma) by ThatSpicySeaFlapFlap

(bnha; gen; angst + MORE ANGST; 42k words; complete; todoroki-centric)

Aizawa looked him in the eye, placed a gentle hand around his bicep (not like Endeavor, his father had only ever touched him with the intention to burn) and asked, “Are you okay?”

People don’t usually ask him things. They like to tell him things, like where to sit or what to wear or how to talk or how to be a hero or how to be himself.

‘Am I okay?’ He thought. He realized he doesn’t ask himself things, either.

Shouto didn’t have an answer to Aizawa’s question, so instead he said:

“A very long time ago, my mother did something....highly upsetting.” The boy was tracing the outline of his scar, his calloused finger stopping and jumping around the bumps and ridges of the burnt skin. “Something today reminded me of that.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” His teacher asked.

“No.”

“Okay. I’m here when you do. I’m always here, kid.” Shouto only responded with a sob. He felt as if he’d earned that right after all the emotional labor he had been put through tonight.

days by chibistarlyte

(bnha; todobaku; angst + hurt/comfort; 19k words; series (complete); todoroki-centric)

Most days, Shouto is fine.

But some days...

Some days, Shouto falls apart.

Location Sent by sunflowerstorm

(bnha; gen; angst + hurt/comfort; 15k words; oneshot; todoroki-centric; third year 1a)

In their first year at UA Midoriya sent his location to the class 1-A group chat during the Hosu incident because he didn't have time to do anything else before rushing to Iida's aid.

Now in their second year, Todoroki sends his location to the group chat at 6:30am on a Saturday morning after going home for the weekend. Midoriya knows immediately that something is very wrong and takes off, Bakugo hot on his heels.

-----

"They’d known each other long enough to be able to communicate practically wordlessly. The quiet rage on Midoriya's face was extremely telling, this was bad. Bakugo braced himself as Midoriya shuffled to the side to show where his hands were hovering over what was most certainly a burn and a serious one at that. Todoroki’s own fire didn’t burn him but they all knew that didn’t make him fire proof. Bakugo could do the math."

Faith by phinnium

(bnha; gen; angst + hurt/comfort; 7k words; oneshot; todoroki-centric; manga spoilers)

"You wanted to open a case?"

Aizawa frowned, "uh, yeah. Someone showed you Dabi's video, didn't they? And I don't doubt Todoroki himself has told you bits and pieces."

Izuku did not expect this to be how the conversation went.

"Yeah. But Todoroki isn't being hurt now. He's fine. Endeavour's changed."

Or: Midoriya trusts the Hero Commission far more than he should, especially given the situation at hand. Todoroki isn't available to explain what's what, so Aizawa and Bakugou do it instead.

(Written after the release of issue 293 of the manga, and in the aftermath of the current arc. Spoilers ahead.)

Incendiary by macrauchenia

(bnha; gen; angst + hurt/comfort; 17k words; ongoing (hiatus?); todoroki-centric)

"You're going to die, little Todoroki. And if you don't, your classmates will instead."

A training exercise backfires when Izuku and Todoroki become tangled in an escaped villain's vendetta against Endeavor. Alone in a perilous situation due to the villain's barrier quirk, Todoroki must take desperate and creative measures to save his classmates.

[Class 1-A Teamwork/Bonding]

Parallax by petrichor (findingkairos)

(bnha; gen; angst + hurt/comfort + fluff; 64k words; ongoing; todoroki-centric)

Todoroki Shouto has memories that he didn't make on his own, motor skills that his brain doesn't know how to parse, and a love of science and mathematics and physics that means he broke down his Quirk into its most intricate, universe-bending components at the age of seven.

In one universe, he wants to become a hero. In this one, even though he doesn't want to, he might have to.

(Featuring: a rapidly developing Shoutosquad, Quirk science, headcanons of all flavors, healthy and supportive sibling and sibling-like relationships, and Dadzawa.)

[notes: one of my current favorite fics that i’m eagerly following for the next update. :D]

Caturdays by staqua (aka my fav todobaku author)

(bnha; todobaku; fluff + angst + enemies to lovers; 10k words; oneshot)

"Hmm... It's lunchtime now isn't it? You should have lunch with him."

"With Bakugou?" He blanched. "I think he would refuse and then murder me."

Rei chuckled softly as if death was a joke and held his hand tenderly. "If he's in the hospital, someone he cares about must not be well. I think anyone going through that should have a nice meal with good company."

"You overestimate me," Shouto pointed out and she gave another laugh.

OR: Shouto's usual Saturdays included visits to his mother and the cat cafe; he wasn't expecting Bakugou to get thrown in the mix.

voltron: legendary defender:

*hacks twitter in space* by Zakyuu

(vld x marvel; gen/klance; crack/humor + fluff; 17k words; social media au; ongoing)

the voltron paladins arent as popular as the avengers, obviously — in fact, no one even knows they exist. but they still radiate the same kind of dumb gay energy like the rest of the world.

or: pidge somehow manages to connect voltron's communicators onto earth and virtually nothing is the same. voltron also collectively makes everyone lose their marbles while they play hot potato with the fact that theyre in a ten thousand year war with the galra.

the fear of falling by amillionsmiles

(vld; gen; angst + fluff; character study; 3k words; oneshot; keith-centric)

Keith can pull off a downward spiral. It's the kind of maneuver he does in his sleep.

[my bookmarks: stunning. beautiful. breathtaking. poignant.]

Recoil/Release by Cheshyr

(vld; gen; angst + hurt/comfort; 22k words; oneshot; keith-centric)

When Keith is bitten by an alien creature with venom that causes your dominant emotions to be amplified, the team is ready for a day of dealing with an incredibly angry paladin.

Which means they're not ready at all for what actually happens.

hound by story_monger

(vld; gen; angst + hurt/comfort; 47k words; oneshot; keith-centric)

Keith has a lot of practice being alone; you might almost say he's good at it. When he finds himself seriously injured and stranded on an unknown planet, he knows he's not alone there. And here's the worst part: even after rescue and after things return to normal, Keith gets the distinct sense that whatever was on that planet has followed him. He doesn't have proof. But he knows it's there. He knows it's not going to stop until it gets what it wants.

Keith's 'Physical Contact' Initiation Program by alisayamin (sh_04e)

(vld; gen; fluff+ angst + hurt/comfort; 26k words; oneshot; keith-centric)

Keith didn’t move and neither did Pidge. It was a little awkward until Keith finally said, “Maybe we could officially officiate this..?”

“What do you mean?”

“Fist me.”

Pidge recoiled and sputtered, “Keith, what the f-” She was cut off by Shiro’s bellowing laughter from the observatory deck.

With his straight face unchanged, Keith lowered his left hand with the stopwatch and lifted his right hand, fisted.

Pidge actually sighed with so much relief, “OH. You mean fistbump! Right.” She slapped her forehead to remove the very very wrong image her imagination drew for her, “Holy shit, Keith, we need to work on that but yeah sure, I’d be honoured to officiate your physical contact program whatever.”

That one time Coran realized Keith was too distant and decided to make him undergo the 'Physical Contact' Initiation Program which then led to --> 5 times the paladins realized Keith was an actual cat.

The Red String by Le_Tournesol

(vld; gen/klance; angst + fluff; 19k words; series (ongoing); keith-centric; pre-voltron au)

Lance and Keith keep coming across one another at different points in their lives.

[my bookmarks: this is so sad and sweet and lovely]

All that is gold does not glitter by Rangergirl3

(vld; gen; angst + fluff + hurt/comfort; 28k words; complete; keith-centric)

Keith isn't what most would call a 'people' person, but that doesn't stop him from caring about his team.

aka

Five Times the other Paladins learned something about Keith, and the One Time he learned something about them.

[my bookmarks: fuck. just- fuck.]

Miscommunication Celebration by SleepySsnail

(vld; gen; fluff + hurt/comfort; 4k words; oneshot; keith-centric; birthday fic)

Keith was never too focused on his birthday, but when it rolls around he hopes his team remembers it. When Keith's birthday is full of quality time and fun, he doesn't even question why his friends haven't said "happy birthday" to him.

Or: Where Keith thinks everyone is celebrating his birthday when they really forgot about it.

Keithtober 2019 Day 23: Birthday

avatar: the last airbender:

Change of Address by hearmerory

(atla; gen/zukka; ANGST + fluff + hurt/comfort; 89k words; series (ongoing); zuko-centric; modern au)

A collection of instances in a modern AU of Zuko's shitty childhood, featuring Ozai's dislike of his son's autism and sexuality.

[my bookmarks: FUCK F U C K WHAT THE ACTUAL F U C K.

I CAN'T WITH THIS ANYMORE.]

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seanfalco · 4 years

Text

Only When You’re Lonely | Klaus Hargreeves x Reader

Words: 4.2k Requested by: @1pixie1dust1 & @moodymoonchild98 Prompt: I have a one-shot request! In your work Klaus is all "I don't deserve her" / "she deserves someone better than me". On that note.. I would like to request a one-shot where someone "better" than Klaus likes Y/N and she actually reciprocates the attention but Klaus goes out of his way to ruin and sabotage the budding relationship and has no good reason as to why he doesn't like the guy. Could this please take place in one of their off periods? Thank you! + Hey could you please write Klaus x reader with reference from this song : You Only Want Me When You’re Lonely - Jim Boyd. (Its a great song btw) Where the reader just want klaus when h/she feeling lonely lol. Thank you! Oh and love your fic playing with fire 💖💖 a/n: Decided to kind of merge these two prompts together, since I got the same vibes from them. Takes place pre-Playing with Fire.

——

It had happened, exactly what he’d wanted and feared — she’d found someone else.

He’d chanced upon them out on a date late one night, spying them through the window of the diner and his blood had gone cold. Was she laughing? At one of his jokes? Was that his hand on her arm? Who said he could be that close to her? Oh my God, was she actually gunna let him kiss her?

Tearing his eyes from the scene, Klaus whipped around, pressing his back to the wall outside and squeezed his eyes shut.

This was what he wanted, he told himself. She deserved so much better. So why did his blood boil at the thought?

Turning back around he let his gaze caress her. That smile, what he wouldn’t give for it to be turned on him once more.

He had to break this up.

This is what you wanted. You pushed her away. She deserves more than you.

Pushing those thoughts away, Klaus was already formulating a plan on how to get her back. He’d made up his mind. He wasn’t going to let this stand.

“Klaus, what’re you doing?” Ben asked as Klaus lounged against the alley wall, waiting for [y/n] to get off her shift.

“Nothing,” he grumbled in response, peeking around the corner surreptitiously.

“Uh huh,” Ben replied dryly. “Y’know, this is low, even for you.”

“Shhh,” Klaus hissed, waving Ben away.

“You’re the one who keeps pushing her away and now you’re upset that she’s actually found someone who treats her right? Please don’t tell me you’re actually going to sabotage this for her.”

“Ben, I swear to God —“ he cut off as [y/n] rounded the corner, nearly running into him.

“Klaus?” she asked, clutching at her chest in surprise, “Jesus, you scared the crap outta me, what’re you doing here?” There was a slight snap to her voice, but as her eyes came to rest on his face, her expression softened slightly.

Klaus smiled apologetically, sheepishly scratching the back of his neck. “Sorry [y/n],” he murmured with a nervous laugh. “I, uh, I was in the neighborhood and thought I could maybe, walk you home?” he offered with a slight shrug and a hopeful look as he pointed off in the direction of her apartment.

[y/n] sighed, clearly deliberating. “Alright, fine,” she gave in and Klaus’s face broke into a bright grin, “but,” she exclaimed, holding up a finger warningly, “no funny business and you can’t come in.”

Klaus’s smile slipped slightly, but he shrugged. “Fine by me, I’ll be a perfect gentleman,” he insisted, holding out his arm for [y/n] to take.

“I’ve heard that before,” she grumbled, but she took his arm, a grin on her face that made his poor heart skip a beat.

“So what have you been up to, hmm?” Klaus pried, watching her out of the corner of his eye. “Anything new?”

She glanced at him askance, almost suspiciously, “Not much,” she answered offhandedly, but her lips twisted thoughtfully. “If you must know… I’ve started seeing someone,” she admitted hesitantly and Klaus’s stomach flipped, dropping uncomfortably.

“Oh?” he asked, as if he didn’t already know this and was already planning on winning her back.

Could you even lose something you never had in the first place?

“Do tell,” he pressed lightly, his tone at odds with the flurry of emotions that buffeted him.

[y/n] eyed him conflictedly, biting her lip. “He’s an artist -- a photographer,” she finally said and Klaus wondered if she’d let him photograph her yet, his mind careening down dark avenues that twisted his insides.

Had she let him take photos of her that no one else was privy to? Had she slept with him? Did he know how to pleasure her in all the intimate ways that only he knew how to?

All too soon for his liking they were nearly to her apartment building and he forced the lie through his teeth, really wanting a drink. “Sounds exciting! Are you… are you happy?” he asked hesitantly, afraid to hear the answer.

The reluctance in her eyes however before she answered made his heart leap hopefully. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, I’m happy,” she answered, flashing a reluctant smile, and Klaus knew he had a chance.

“Well,” he segued, his eyes flicking to her building, the one he thought of as more home than anyplace else he’d been, “I guess this is where we part ways. For now.” With a dramatic flourish Klaus took her hand, bowing low and pressing his lips to it before straightening, a playful grin tugging his lips that was mirrored in [y/n]’s eyes.

“Goodnight, Klaus,” she murmured, watching him over her shoulder as she walked to the door.

——

“No, Klaus.”

“What, c’mon Ben,” Klaus whined, kicking an empty can down the dark alleyway before spinning and sliding down the brick wall to plop to the damp asphalt. “I thought we were friends!” he cried.

“Not when you’re acting like this, we’re not,” Ben replied, watching Klaus from across the alley, his hood pulled up over his head.

“Don’t you wanna help bring [y/n] and I back together again?” Klaus asked dramatically.

“Not like this,” Ben snapped, “and not so you can just leave her again when things get hard.”

“Bennnnn,” Klaus whined again, fixing his brother’s apparition with his most pleading stare.

“No. Even if I could possess people, I wouldn’t do that, not to some stranger. What if he’s a good guy, Klaus?”

“What if he’s not?” Klaus snapped back, reaching into the pocket of his dark patchwork coat for the little baggie tucked inside. Dumping the pills into his palm he studiously avoided glancing at Ben -- knowing the familiar disappointed look that was surely waiting for him and he popped the drugs into his mouth to swallow, leaning his head back against the wall and letting his eyes droop shut.

Ben sighed. “If you really want [y/n] back, you’re gunna have to do it the right way. Put in the work, show her you want to be better.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Klaus exclaimed dismissively, waving Ben’s words away for the moment, wanting to enjoy his high. “I just have to remind her what all she’s missing,” he murmured.

——

“This is not what I meant, when I said put the work in,” Ben pointed out the next day as Klaus waited outside [y/n]’s building, coffee in hand.

“It’s not?” Klaus asked flippiantly, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“No, this is… stalking,” Ben exclaimed, throwing his hands up, but Klaus ignored him.

“[y/n]!” he called instead as she emerged from her building, pushing off the wall and striding over to meet her, holding the cup of coffee out to her.

Watching him curiously, a small smile playing at her lips, she took the pro-offered cup and brought it to her lips, cocking an eyebrow at him.

“Klaus,” she greeted, her eyes flicking down and back up, no doubt noticing he was still in the same clothes he was wearing the night before.

“Sleep well?” he asked, falling into step with her as she began to walk. “Dream of me?” he asked, flashing her his most charming grin.

Instead of answering, she rolled her eyes fondly, adjusting the strap of her bag over her shoulder. “Klaus, what are you doing?” she asked pointedly.

“Moi?” he asked, gesturing to himself, adopting an innocent expression. “Am I not allowed to come see my favourite person in the world and bring her coffee?” he asked, fighting the urge to sling his arm around her shoulder.

“I think it seems rather coincidental that you suddenly show up as soon as I start to see someone else,” [y/n] pointed out, though she didn’t look mad.

“What? That’s ridiculous!” Klaus exclaimed, almost scandalized. “I just… miss you,” he murmured, fidgeting with his fingers, “and whether we’re sharing a bed or not, you’re still my best friend,” he reminded her, his eyes flicking to hers, finding a hesitant smile on her face.

“So,” he exclaimed, brightening once more, clapping his hands together, “how about we do dinner, catch up? You, me, your new beau? You can introduce me.”

[y/n] gaped at him incredulously. “That sounds like a terrible idea,” she laughed while Klaus pouted.

“What nooooo!” he exclaimed, leaning into her shoulder without thinking, half draping himself over her. “I think you mean, it sounds like a lovely idea. I mean, let’s be honest, he’s gunna have to meet me sooner or later,” Klaus reasoned.

Leaning into him subconsciously, [y/n] sighed. “Believe me, I know that,” she muttered. “Just… not tonight, okay?”

“Oh, so you are meeting him tonight?” Klaus asked, a mischievous grin curling his lips.

“Klaus,” she said warningly, though it held no real heat.

“What is this lucky fellow’s name, by the way?” he asked, carefully ignoring her admonition and she sighed again.

“It’s Sean, okay,” she answered, “now I have to get going,” she announced, extricating herself from his arm and taking off down the packed sidewalk. “Thank you for the coffee!” she called, turning back to him and flashing a smile that sent his heart racing.

“Don’t mention it! I’ll see ya when I see ya!” he called back, waving. She just didn’t need to know that he’d be seeing her tonight whether she liked it or not.

As soon as she was out of sight Klaus rubbed his hands together. “Now to figure out where they’ll be dining tonight so I can make my grand entrance,” he muttered while Ben glowered at him.

“Are you gunna show up like that?” he asked and Klaus glanced down at himself.

“What’s wrong with this outfit? It’s one of my signature looks!”

Yeah, if that look is sleeping in alleys and not showering for like a week,” Ben scoffed and Klaus lifted his coat to sniff. “When was the last time you changed?”

Clearing his throat, Klaus made a mental note to find someplace to wash and a new pair of clothes before night came.

——

“So, what exactly is your plan?” Ben scoffed.

“Just go in there, make my presence known and meet this Sean character, size him up,” Klaus answered, peering through the window, having finally found the place they were dining at. [y/n] thought she was being clever by not telling him where they were eating that night, but he knew her favourite haunts and it hadn’t been hard to find them.

Straightening his jacket and running his hands through his freshly washed hair, giving it that effortlessly mussed look, Klaus steeled himself and pushed open the door, heading nonchalantly toward the bar, carefully not making eye contact with [y/n] across the room. It was important that this look completely unplanned.

Sliding up to the bar he ordered a drink, tapping his painted fingers on the smooth polished counter as he waited and as soon as the glass was in his hand he brought it to his lips, turning to assess the room, his eyes finally catching [y/n]’s whose face darkened for a moment while he regarded her with his best feigned innocence, holding up his drink before approaching.

“Well, well, well, fancy seeing you here,” he exclaimed jovially, not missing the way [y/n]’s eyes traveled over him, pulling a smug grin to his lips.

“Uh huh, fancy that,” she replied wryly and Klaus’s smile widened, turning to take in the fellow sitting across from her.

“You must be Sean,” he continued, holding out his hand to shake and the man peered at him in confusion as he reluctantly took his hand.

“Yeah, that--that’s me,” he replied, “I’m not exactly sure who you are, unfortunately.” His eyes flicked to [y/n] questioningly and she sighed.

“Sean, this is… Klaus,” she introduced hesitantly, her gaze flicking nervously between the two.

“It was nice to meet you, man. Now if you’ll excuse us--” Sean said with a nod, directing an uncertain smile at him, before turning back to [y/n], the dismission in his voice clear, but Klaus merely grinned, pulling over the chair from the adjacent table and swung his leg over it, leaning forward and resting his arms over the chair back.

“So, you’re a photographer?” he asked, sipping his drink and Sean blinked, frowning as Klaus made no move to leave.

“Uhm, yeah, how did you--?”

“Oh, [y/n] told me,” Klaus explained, swirling the drink in his glass. “Y’know she’d make such a great model, I mean, she has no bad angles,” he continued, his eyes flicking to [y/n], winking at her cheekily.

“Yeah, I’ve noticed,” Sean replied, his lilting voice taunting, turning the tables on Klaus and he turned to gape at him. “I’m excited to get her behind the viewfinder.” Now it was Sean’s turn to wink across the table at [y/n] who flushed slightly.

His grin faltering, Klaus hid it by tilting back the rest of his drink and knocking on the table, interrupting their moment and signaling his departure as he made to stand.

“Well, again, it was nice to meet you…” he trailed off, snapping his fingers as if trying to remember the fellow’s name, even though of course he did. He did have to hand it to [y/n], she had good taste.

“Sean,” Sean provided, reaching across the table to slip his hand over [y/n]’s, watching Klaus carefully, clearly aware what he was up to.

“Right,” Klaus muttered, turning to nod to [y/n], his smile tight. “You kids have a nice night. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

Outside, Klaus’s grin disappeared, replaced by a scowl and Ben folded his arms.

“So what exactly did that accomplish, other than making a fool of yourself?” he asked and Klaus sighed.

“That was just step one,” he explained with a huff, “but it’s planted the seeds and now I just have to water them.”

Ben rolled his eyes. “Oh yeah, because you have such a green thumb.”

“Shut up, Ben, you’ll see,” Klaus insisted as he turned to stumble away, ready for another drink and a hit to take the edge off and banish the sight of [y/n]’s hand in Sean’s.

——

Over the next several weeks Klaus engrained himself back into [y/n]’s everyday life as if he’d never left, being the best friend she could ask for, and no matter where she turned, he was always there -- much to Sean’s obvious chagrin.

If Sean showed up for movie night, Klaus was already there, painting [y/n]’s nails. If they went out, he somehow always managed to bump into them. Every chance he could get to remind the other man that he was still very much in the picture and that he wasn’t going anywhere, he took it and he could tell he was starting to get under Sean’s skin.

And oh what Klaus wouldn’t give to be a fly on the wall during the conversations they no doubt had about him.

So what if Ben wouldn’t help him, Klaus felt like a ghost himself, his presence, his very name haunting [y/n]’s new beau as surely as any spectre.

And as time wore on he could see [y/n] cracking -- the lingering glances, the subtle touches that lasted a little too long, slipping from friendly to intimate, leading finally to an almost kiss that he could tell practically pained her to pull away from, half-heartedly admonishing him for being so tempting.

He was so close, he could feel it. Klaus was in the home stretch now.

Now he just needed to nail the final nail in the coffin.

Weaving his way through the crowd, Klaus headed for the bar, waiting for [y/n]’s band to take the stage. They may only be local openers, but he smiled fondly, remembering the very first gig they played, him cheering them on to the smattering of applause.

“Oh. Hey,” a familiar voice behind him said, and Klaus turned to find Sean joining him at the bar. “Guess I really shouldn’t be all that surprised to see you here.” There was a tenseness to his tone that made Klaus grin smugly.

“Nope, I’ll always be around,” he replied off-handedly, though the message behind his words was clear and Sean nodded uncomfortably before ordering a beer and settling in for the show.

“You know, I helped [y/n] buy her first guitar,” Klaus reminisced, a dazed grin crossing his face at the memory. “It was only a cheap pawn shop thing, but it became her most prized possession. She taught herself how to play on that damned thing.”

“How long have you known her?” Sean asked softly and Klaus took a sip of his drink.

“Oh, comin’ up on almost fifteen years,” he mused proudly, counting on his fingers before flicking ash off the end of his cigarette.

Before either man could speak further [y/n]’s band took the stage, her eyes meeting Klaus’s across the room as an excited smile crossed her face, before her gaze moved to Sean, and Klaus could feel the other man’s eyes on him as they began to play.

“[y/n]’s told me about you, you know,” Sean said suddenly, taking Klaus by surprise and his eyebrows raised as he tore his eyes from the stage to face the other fellow.

“Oh?” he asked, curious as to what she had to say about him. “Good things, I hope,” he continued with a chuckle and Sean’s tight smile didn’t reach his eyes.

“I truly don’t see what she sees in you,” he answered coldly. “All I see is a charming addict who manipulates people to get what he wants. And I have a feeling you’re not gunna give up until you have her back.”

Klaus stared straight ahead, frowning thoughtfully, determined not to let it show that maybe his words might have gotten under his skin a bit.

“Well,” he said flippantly after a long moment, gesturing with his cigarette and flashing a grin, “charming is my middle name, after all.”

Sean shook his head, falling into silence once more to finish watching [y/n]’s set.

Once the last song ended and the band cleared their gear off the stage so the headliners could get set up [y/n] trailed to the bar, grinning widely, practically beaming, and Klaus didn’t fail to notice the other man’s sad smile as he watched her approach, her eyes seeking Klaus out first.

Fuck, he wanted to kiss her so badly right then.

When she pulled him in for a hug, whispering in his ear, “I’m so glad you came tonight,” he nearly did kiss her.

“Of course, wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

That night, even though she didn’t leave with him, Klaus fell asleep buoyed by the thought that it shouldn’t be long now til she came back to him. She hadn’t looked at him like that since she’d last called him her’s.

It was a continuous buzzing that woke him late the next afternoon and though he felt slightly hungover still, the late evening sunlight streaming through the blinds making him blink blearily, the sight of the name on his caller id had him jumping awake, nearly falling off the couch. He’d never been happier to have minutes remaining on his phone than right now.

“[y/n]!” he answered brightly, pushing himself up to run his free hand through his short messy curls. Moments later however, the sound of her sniffles on the other end of the line made his stomach drop, flipping a strange somersault of hope and shame that left him a little queasy.

Shh, that’s just the alcohol.

“What--what’s wrong?” Klaus asked quickly.

“...Sean broke up with me,” [y/n] answered thickly, “can… can you come over?”

“I’ll be right there,” he assured her, rushing to shove his feet into his worn boots and grab his coat, slipping it over his arms before he realized he wasn’t wearing a shirt underneath.

Ah, fuck it.

As he made the trek across town to her apartment, Klaus grappled with his guilty conscience. After all, one could argue he was partially complicit in her pain. But no, he’d never once actively played homewrecker, right? He’d been good, he’d never urged her to break up with him, or threatened the guy. He’d never been untoward with [y/n] or tempted her to be disloyal. He’d merely just been there, letting them come to the conclusion on their own that it wouldn’t work out. He wasn’t guilty, was he?

No. No, of course not.

——

“Klaus!” you exclaimed as you opened the door, your eyes puffy from crying and he barely had time to react before you were in his arms, pressing your tear damp face to his chest.

“Thank goodness you’re here,” you murmured, your words muffled and he quickly brought his arms around you, his chest constricting with affection, missing holding you like this.

“Are you okay?” Klaus asked, pulling back to look you over, holding the sides of your face gently, his thumb tracing under your eye to intercept a falling tear.

“No, yes… I don’t know,” you floundered, biting your lip to keep it from trembling.

“What happened?” Klaus asked, shutting the door behind him and ushering you further into the apartment.

“Sean broke up with me this morning,” you explained, punctuating your words with the occasional sniffle. “He said that he couldn’t… that he didn’t want to compete with you. That you’d always be there and that I’d…” you trailed off, covering your face with your hands.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Klaus murmured, gently pulling your hands from your face and you hesitantly looked up at him.

“I know what you did Klaus, I’m not stupid, and you’re not exactly subtle.”

When he looked ready to argue, you silenced him with a finger to his lips and he merely watched you curiously, kohl darkened eyes following your every movement, his tongue moving behind his parted lips, sending a shiver through you as you felt it.

“Part of me is glad you intervened,” you admitted and Klaus frowned in confusion, his brows drawing down. “Yes, I liked Sean. He was a good guy, but like every person I date or sleep with, I always end up comparing them to you,” you explained, your heart pounding in your chest. “And even if logically they’re better for me, or whatever, I always end up finding them lacking.”

“Lacking?” Klaus asked, unable to keep the question from springing from his lips.

“Because they’re not you.”

And with that your mouth was on his and you were pulling him with you to the bed and he followed eagerly, ready to make you his all over again.

Maybe this was a mistake and maybe you shouldn’t have called Klaus while in such a vulnerable state, but you’d never wanted him more than in that moment and logic was not on your side. You wanted him to hold you, to touch you. You wanted to lose yourself in him and know that he’d be there when you woke.

——

“What you did wasn’t fair, Klaus,” Ben said, watching him across the room.

“All’s fair in love and war, Ben, and this just happened to be a little bit of both,” Klaus replied, smirking triumphantly, his fingers gently tracing the slope of her arm as she lay draped over him.

“So, what, the next time you get bored or scared, you’ll push her away again until you come crawling back? You can’t keep doing that to her, Klaus, and just expect her to wait around for you, not wanting more than that.” Ben shook his head sadly. “It’s like… you only want her when you’re lonely.”

“Piss off, Ben,” Klaus hissed -- it was enough that his self loathing shared his brother’s voice, he didn’t need to hear it repeated back at him in stereo. “You don’t know anything. I lo—“ he fumbled over the words that nearly sprang to his lips, quickly correcting himself. “I want her all the time, but it’s easier to leave than to be left.”

“How do you know she’d leave you?” Ben pressed.

“Because she should,” Klaus exclaimed, his arm tightening around her.

“Well, I’m glad we both agree on something.”

“I said, Piss Off, Ben!” Klaus repeated louder, frustration sharpening his words and Ben disappeared as [y/n] stirred in his arms.

“Hey, you okay?” she asked, pushing up to rest her hand on the side of Klaus’s face, worry etched in her expression before Klaus forced a smile, placing his hand over hers and turning to brush a kiss to her palm.

“Yeah, I’m fine, I-I’m great,” he lied, “Never better.”

[y/n] studied his face for a long moment before he leaned forward, distracting her with a kiss -- knowing if he let her look for too long she would see the lie in his forest green eyes; she knew him too well for his own good.

With a sigh she let him pull her back down to the bed and into his arms once more, her eyes fluttering shut, leaving him to wonder if there would come a time that she wouldn’t take him back.

#the umbrella academy #tua #klaus hargreeves #klaus hargreeves x reader #klaus hargreeves imagines #PwFverse #fic: playing with fire #my writing #prompt request #1pixie1dust1 #moodymoonchild98

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justasparkwritings · 3 years

Text

Peace: Would It Be Enough?

Previous: In Secret

Pairing: Jungkook X Reader

Genre: Smut/ Angst / Slice of Life

Rating: NC17

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: Swearing, P-V Sex, Consensual Sex, Making Love, Forgiveness, Redemption, Vaginal Fingering

Summary: The morning after.

Listening: peace by Taylor Swift

Peace Master List

There’s a moment when you first wake up when the weight of the world, the weight of the day, doesn’t overwhelm you. Your to-do list waits, your mind is slowly waking itself and remembering whatever nightmare you’ve left for yourself to deal with. But you know it’s coming. As you woke up that morning, that sinking feeling engulfed you before you opened your eyes. Jack Antonoff was right, but your dread wasn’t waiting by your bed, it was thriving within you.

Rolling over, you checked the clock. 10AM on a Saturday is a fine time to wake up, but as you do, the flood of thoughts crashed over you. The dryness of your skin from the salty tears made you wince, and as you padded to the kitchen to make yourself a cup of coffee, you’re confronted with three realities, and leaning against your kitchen counter, you recount them to yourself.

· First, you told him you couldn’t look at him anymore.

· Second, he was verbally harassed last night, and you did nothing

· Third, you’re not enough

· You’re not enough to handle this

· You’re not enough to be by his side

· You’re just…

The third sent you reeling, but the second kept nagging at you like a mosquito bite in the middle of your back. It’s persistent itch slowly driving you mad.

You walked yourself through the events of the night, through Jungkook’s response, through your own. You yelled, you fucking hated yelling, it had no place in your relationship… The guys had been there, they’d tried to ration… Jungkook tried to… But he didn’t… You didn’t … It’s all coming back, the bits and pieces of the hurt you hurled at him, your Jungkook, your love, the man you’d give every wild you had to… the father of your child… And here you were, sipping coffee, trying to organize your thoughts into something cohesive to make up or make sense of the hurt you hurled at him.

You took to your phone to open Spotify and saw his plentiful texts, sent throughout the night… single lines of longing trying to reach you.

Jagi, I’m just checking in. I love you.

Baby, I hope you get some sleep. I love you.

I love you.

Our love isn’t for show… please

Love you, so much

You stared, your thoughts being overwhelmed by the profound sadness you felt towards him, because of him. With tears in your eyes, you moved to your bathroom, hot water scalding your skin as it came cascading down around you.

Jungkook awoke, but if he was honest, he didn’t really sleep. Wedged between a wall and Ho-Seok, having not planned to stay with the members at all, he found himself uncomfortable, his mind stuck on the image of you, telling him you couldn’t look at him. You, walking away from him, telling him not to follow you or talk to you. You… The texts he sent left unanswered. His pleas to you to talk to him, to say anything, to say that you loved him too… unreciprocated.

He carefully climbed out of bed around 9AM, tiptoeing into the gym, trying to work out his frustration on the treadmill.

One mile.

Two miles.

Three miles.

As he ran, he replayed the events in his head. He went to the bathroom, leaving you with a guard nearby and taking one with him. He came back and saw that man circling you, a vulture preying on a seemingly isolated fledgling. Jungkook approached, he watched the man attack, trying to get anything from you, and you, stunning in your skintight black jeans, moto jacket draping over your shoulders, studded booties protecting your feet… Jungkook tried to protect you. You, the object of his desires, you, your dazzling smile and friendly demeanor, a mere kill to that man. But the man wasn’t after you, he was after Jungkook. If one prey was left alone, the herd was nearby, and Jungkook was proof of that.His eyes became bugged as he watched Jungkook step in front of you, Jungkook, nearly six feet and pure muscle, shirt unbuttoned dangerously low, chest seemingly smooth. Jungkook, tattooed covered hand, rings absently adorning digits, undercut fresh, hair slightly pulled back, glowering over him.

Jungkook was the vulture, and weak prey does what it can to escape the predator, it distracts and deflects.

Jungkook wanted to be the threat, he wanted to use his height and physique as a way to protect you from that man. But what you hadn’t accounted for was the man’s mouth, his beliefs, his disgust that you would be dating someone so, Asian. It didn’t matter if Jungkook could beat the shit out of him, it didn’t matter that he could grind seeds in his palms or use his falsetto after dancing nonstop for three minutes. It didn’t matter, because in that moment, when the man realized that you belonged to Jungkook, his xenophobia and ignorance raged more powerfully than Jungkook’s fists ever could. Jungkook knew it, as the man’s eyes drifted between you… He knew it would come to blows.

Stepping off the treadmill, sweat soaking his clothing, he picked up his phone. No calls. No texts. No Instagram updates. No tweets. You’d gone to ground, and he was desperate to hear from you. He dialed, knowing full well you wouldn’t answer. You never spoke before you were ready, you never made a decision that wasn’t thought out… He knew you well enough to know you’d be processing, but he needed you to know he was still there, he was still so close… A call, a text, and he’d be at your door.

You sat still as your phone rang, his name and ID flashing… A photo Taehyung had taken on your last trip to Korea... A rainy day spent in sweats and watching your favorite movies, trying to show them films that were important to you. Subtitles on, and when the situation called for it, Namjoon translating. Jungkook had fallen asleep, his head resting on a pillow in your lap, fingers intertwined with yours. You sat slowly raking your fingers through his hair, smiling as you watched the film. The moment was too cute to pass up, and Taehyung snapped the pic. You watched it fade to black, and he listened as it rang and rang.

“Noona, please, please talk to me. I love you; I love you so much and I, just please call me.”

He picked up the weights, heavier than he needed, hand still hurting from the punch, and became determined to burn himself out before he could dare to think about your accusations.

You’ve sat with him in the trenches, been there for his biggest hits and greatest wins. But you weren’t convinced he’d stand by your side. You didn’t believe he’d die for you, you didn’t believe that he’d take a bullet for you, to protect your honor, to defend his own he’d… He’d die for you, on the front page, on national television. He’d give you anything you wanted, everything you wanted, but would it be enough?

Dropping the weights, mind spent, Jungkook ambled throughout the Airbnb, showering, forcing himself to eat, his bandmates asking if he was okay.

“I still haven’t heard from her,” He whispered.

“She’s safe, she’s at home,” Namjoon said, watching his maknae with sympathetic eyes.

“I know,” He responded, eyes trained on the counter. He felt uncomfortable standing with his brothers in the spot where she had walked out on him, where she’d lay bare her fears and insecurities. It felt wrong, like the place should be torn down, burned, never to be built upon again. Anything to erase the memory.

“She hasn’t said anything to us either,” Taehyung added, wrapping an arm around Jungkook.

“Is that supposed to make him feel better?” Yoongi asked, making his way through the kitchen to grab an apple.

“She isn’t just icing him out,” Taehyung clarified.

“What are you going to say to her?” Yoongi questioned.

“I don’t really want to talk about this,” Jungkook said, eyes finally moving to look at his bandmates. “I just, I just want to talk to her.” He stood, tears starting to form again and moved towards the backyard. As he pressed into the grass, his phone buzzed.

Come over please

Jungkook bounded from the car to your front door, knocking frantically, enthusiastically, begging for entrance into your home. You approached slowly, a deep breath being drawn as you unlocked the door and stepped back, letting Jungkook slowly step over the threshold.

“Baby, I-” He was cut off by your lips, hands reaching to pull him too you, your lips meeting in the middle. Instinctively he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you close. His wet hair brushed your cheeks as you moved your arms to wrap around his neck, fingers instinctively playing with the hair at the nape. He growled lightly, bottom lip between his teeth, and started to move you, slowly, through the living room and down the hallway of your bungalow to your bedroom. Your hands moved down his clothed shoulders before slowly reaching up underneath his sweatshirt to rest on his bare chest, and as you pulled away for air, he deftly slid it over his head and tossed into a pile.

“I want you,” You whispered, his hands gripping your hips, foreheads pressed together, eyes closed. You slowly opened your eyes, looking through your lashes at him.

“I need you,” He whispered, the intensity in your gaze doubling as he stared. “Always, you.”

You brought him onto the bed swiftly, lips connecting as he nestled himself between your thighs.

“I love you,” You said as his hands began to tug at your shirt, carefully guiding it off your frame. “So much.”

“I love you,” Jungkook said, his gaze staying with yours as he slipped his hand down the front of your leggings, splitting your lips open and taking a tentative stroke.

“Take them off,” You said, arm covering your eyes, giving into the feeling of him, Jungkook, Golden Maknae, lover.

He did as instructed, slowly spreading your legs, revealing yourself to him, your arousal clear and glistening, beckoning him to it. He wasted no time, no build up, no longing strokes or languid caresses. He wanted you, and he wanted you now.

Wrapping his lips around your sensitive bud, he began to suck, alternating slow gentle pulls with sharper, harsher puckers. He held your thighs down, strong hands splaying across the fat of your thighs, his favorite thighs, keeping you firmly pressed into the mattress.

Having sex with Jungkook was either one of three things:

1. Slow and passionate

2. Rough and overwhelming

3. Gentle and giving

It had taken you two a while to find your stride, sexually. One of you was experienced, the other lacking, and finding a common ground was challenging, except for the fact that you both so desperately wanted one another. You’d waited a decent amount of time, in your opinion, before having sex. You’d been burned before, and sex was something you wanted to share with someone you cared about, who was invested in whatever you were building together. Jungkook had understood and felt similarly. Your aligning star signs, and a particularly tight pair of jeans and a too low-cut top had pushed things over the edge, and you’d consummated your relationship in your house, first in the bedroom, then in the kitchen, and finally, the floor in front of the fireplace.

Jungkook continued to attend to your clit, and when he felt you getting close, slipped two fingers inside, coaxing your walls to embrace him. The stretch, unwelcome at first, was exactly what you needed. Your orgasm crashed down, overwhelming you as a new batch of tears started to fall. You tried to maintain composure, the pleasure outweighing the guilt and pain. If not for yourself, for Jungkook. He noticed your change in demeanor, and slowly kissed up your body, straddling your waist and moving your hands from your eyes.

“Hey, noona,” He whispered, lowering his lips to kiss your tears. You turned your head, catching his lips as your hand slipped between you, palming his member through his sweats. He moaned greedily, hips involuntarily rutting at your touch.

“Jungkook,” You whispered against his lips. He slid off of you and stood, tossing his sweats and briefs into the same pile of clothes he’d tossed his sweatshirt.

“How do you-

“Just, like this,” You said, propped up on your elbows, staring at his naked form. You wanted to feel close, a part of him, like you’d felt the last time you’d made love. Yes, made love was the term Jungkook preferred. Sex could be, impersonal, emotionless, but making love… a phrase perfectly depicting what it was: love shared. You could tell from the glint in his eyes, the tears still spilling from your eyes, that the love making would be gentle and passionate, your favorite kind.

Jungkook nodded, moving back between your open and willing legs, hand stroking himself once, twice, before he angled his hips and gently pressed into you. Moans swirled as the sound of his flesh against yours echoed off the walls, your tears mixing with sweat as he slowly thrust in and out of you. Your eyes locked on his as he slid a hand between you, teasing you towards your second orgasm as he edged closer and closer to his first.

You wished it could be like this forever. The passion and heat between you hadn’t lessened in the years you’d been together, distance hadn’t made your wanting disappear, it only intensified. As you came down from your respective highs, Jungkook nipped at the skin on your shoulder, leaving a small love bite.

“I love you,” you whispered, eyes closed tight, unwilling to look at him.

“I know, noona, I know,” He whispered, eyes trained on your face. “Look at me,” His voice was gentle, an ask, not a demand.

You opened your eyes, tears slipping down your temples, soaking your hair and absorbing into the pillows. Silently, Jungkook pressed his lips to yours before rising. He disappeared into the kitchen, washing his hands before bringing you a glass of water, waiting patiently for you to return from the bathroom before handing it to you. Sipping silently, you pulled him into the bathroom and into the shower.

You’d both showered independently that morning, washing away your transgressions and anxieties from the night before. In the afternoon sunlight, the water brought you two together. As you washed each other, silence sitting in the atmosphere like low clouds, ridding themselves of the last few drops from the storm that had just raged.

Slipping into clean clothes, pulling him to you again, you tumbled into your bed, limbs intertwined as your head rested on his chest, rising slowly with his breathing. The exhaustion from the fight, the anger, the fear, coupled with the exhaustion of making love, and the comfort of a lovers embrace lulled you both to sleep, only awakening when Jungkook’s phone rang.

Groggily he answered, speaking swiftly in Korean.

“The guys want to know if we want to go to dinner with them,” He said, glancing down at your still form.

“Can we just stay in?” You asked, sleep still heavy in your body.

“Of course we can,” He said standing. He stepped into the hallway; his voice still hushed as he spoke to whomever called him. You tried to open your eyes, to will the drowsiness away, and slowly it did. You opened your eyes to a setting sun, and Jungkook leaning against the doorframe, sweats low on his hips, back bare.

Somewhere in his conversation he became animated, and you knew he could paint dreamscapes if he wanted.

“Jungkook?” You said, pulling his attention from his phone call. He looked at you and smiled softly before saying his goodbyes.

“Yes love?”

“I, I’m sorry,” You said, fidgeting with the skin on your thumb.

“I’m sorry too,” He offered, sitting on the bed, staring at you.

“I’m so sorry for everything, for yelling at you, for being so harsh and cold, and, and”

His tattooed hand reached out to grab yours, a willing peace offering.

“I’m sorry I minimized your pain,” You looked at him. “I, I ignored it. I latched onto the one thing I could control, and that was what the world could see of me. I couldn’t register your hurt because I don’t know how to fix it or make it better or make people less hateful... so I got angry because our privacy is something I can navigate. I can manage if someone sees us together, or Instagram posts or twitter comments. That I can do, but last night,” You shook your head, trying to block the memories from invading. “I shut out your feelings, Jungkook, I didn’t acknowledge what you were going through, and I’m so so sorry,” Your voice cracked as you uttered your apology. Jungkook was quick to move to you, pulling you against him, your fresh tears falling on his bare chest.

“I don’t know what it’s like to experience that level of racism and hatred. I know microaggressions, I’ve fielded a million. I know in America we put Asian Americans in internment camps, we passed laws that literally wouldn’t allow them to become citizens, or enter our country, we blamed them for COVID and our stock market tanking... We fetishize and demean and make light of thousands of years of abuse. I’ve experienced my own racism, and colorism, but I’ve never ... I hate that you were hurt. I hate that someone could spew that vile, repugnant bull shit at you. I hate that I couldn’t do anything to protect you. I hate that I was so insensitive. I love you, Jungkook. I’ll give you a son, I’ll give you my best, I’ll die for you in secret, in public, I don’t care… But Jungkook, I don’t know if it will be enough?”

Your eyebrows knitted together as you stared at him. Him, the Golden Maknae, the love of your life, the man of your dreams.

“I love you,” Jungkook said, holding your gaze. “I love you. I want you… So, what if you can’t bring me peace? What does that even mean? Of course, you are enough because I say you are, because you say you are. You are enough and so much more,” Jungkook broke as your joined vulnerability tore down any remaining emotional walls or self-preservation you’d put up.

You’d had a fight, a really-bad-could-end-everything fight. Neither of you were sure what would happen, what Bang and Big Hit would want from you, whether or not swinging for the fences was going to result in a low batting average or the record for homers in a relationships timeline. Neither of you cared. The ever-present question of whether either of you was enough for the other would eat away at you, dissipating only when lips touched, I love you’s exchanged, promises of forever etched on your hearts. You could be enough for one another… until he breaks into a million pieces and the shattered edges glisten with blood… then what?

Next: Clowns to the West

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twicepinkmeup-imagines · 4 years

Text

Park Chaeyoung / Rosé ; so easy to fall in love.

writer’s note : so absolutely love this request because i’ve lived in melbourne for a couple of years so writing this is bringing back goooooood ass memories 🥰 wanted to keep this short and simple, no angst no nothing. ALSO THANK U FOR THE 100 oVER FOLLOWERS?!?! It hasn’t even been a month!!!!

warning : mate, it’s fluffy and its gay

words : 2,510 words (short & sweet fluff)

tips : So Easy by Phillip Phillips was such a GOOD song to write this fic to and is such a perfect song to listen to while reading this 😭❤️ Give it a try if you don’t mind it and let me know what you think! ❤️

xoxo

Was she in a dream? To be quite honest, she wasn’t sure herself.

After a long flight from Seoul, Y/N just wanted to sleep in and call it a day. She just want to catch up on the sleep she lacked because she wasn’t going to spend her vacation in Melbourne like an old grumpy grouch who hasn’t gotten enough sleep in her system.

But right now, she wasn’t sure if the kisses that she’s feeling at the moment, were a dream or not.

Fluttering her eyes open while she instinctively stretched on bed, Y/N’s eyes landed on her beautiful girlfriend, Park Chaeyoung who’s also known as Rosé to some.

The recently awaken girl smiled at Australian native before she softly cooed, “Good God, I don’t know what I did in my previous life to wake up to such beauty.”

Rosé rolled her eyes at her girlfriend’s cheesy comment as she grinned while shaking her head before she caressed Y/N’s face and said, “I won’t be such a beauty if we’re not up and getting ready to go to the beach in half an hour.”

This caused for Y/N to groan playfully as she whined, “Babe, we just went through an 11-hour flight from Seoul to Melbourne; I think we deserve a day’s worth of sleep.”

“Y/N, we’ve only got a week here and tomorrow, I’ve promised Alice that we’ll spend our time with her,” Rosé reasoned with a small pout before she suddenly sat up and straddled her girlfriend’s waist while softly pleading, “Pretty please, baby? I just want today to be us.”

Y/N knew that her girlfriend was very well aware by the fact that she was absolutely weak for Rosé’s pout and her adorable baby voice. It worked everytime whenever the Australian native wanted something and Y/N knew it wasn’t going to change anytime soon.

Placing her hands on her girlfriend’s hips, Y/N sighed and chuckled in amusement as she breathed out, “You, Ms. Roseanne Park, are playing a dirty game.”

Rosé giggled before she placed a quick kiss on the tip of Y/N’s nose as she teased, “Yeah, but I win every time and that’s all that matters, sweets.”

As the Australian rolled off of her girlfriend, Y/N could only sigh as she forced herself to sit up and gaze aimlessly around the room. She’ll admit it, she was definitely in a daze and she knows she could sleep for another few more hours but at the same time, Y/N loved seeing her girlfriend happy.

With that said, Y/N got out of the covers and immediately made the bed as she then made her way to the bathroom to freshen up. Thankfully, it didn’t take her long to get ready but they still needed to pack for the short trip.

While Y/N was brushing her teeth, the girl could feel slender arms going around her waist and as she looked at the mirror, she could see Rosé leaning her chin on the crook of Y/N’s neck.

“I love this,” Rosé sighed out before she chirped, “Waking you up, planning a trip to the beach then spending the week with my sister; it’s like my life is normal.”

With her mouth full of toothpaste foam, Y/N spit some out before she gargled her mouth with water and said, “Baby, if your life was ever normal, you and I would have never met.”

The Australian giggled as she then tightened her arms while softly saying, “I still have yet to thank Soojin for introducing us both when she did. If she hadn’t had urged Alice to bring me along to the party, you and I would be non-existent right now.”

Y/N smiling lovingly towards her girlfriend through the mirror as she quietly chirped, “It’s funny how fate works huh, babe?”

Rosé just nodded with a gentle smile before she placed a quick kiss on her girlfriend’s cheek while slowly untangling her arms around her waist and said, “Best hangover I’ve experienced.”

The Australian then teasingly pat her girlfriend’s butt while the latter laughed in response as the both of them continued to do their errands for the the daytrip.

For the couple, the trip to Melbourne was rather unexpected but because Rosé felt a bit bored being at the dorm with no schedules at all, she impulsively thought a trip back home would be a great idea for a much needed distraction.

Of course, she needed approval from both the group and the label, which included the approval of her managers. It was hard at first and Rosé expected no less. They were already reluctant on letting her go, let alone letting her go with her very hidden girlfriend.

It was no surprise to anyone that any relationship that Rosé would be in, would have to be hidden from the eyes of the public. However, it wasn’t because she was embarrassed or ashamed by the fact that she was dating a girl but it was merely because some fans wouldn’t accept the fact that their number one bias- was actually taken.

She’s seen it with her fellow bandmate, Jennie and she’s also seen it with her other friends in the industry. It’s not that idols aren’t allowed to date; no, nothing like that.. but they were to stay quiet regarding the relationship for the entire time to avoid fan disapproval.

“Rosie, don’t forget to bring a blanket later! It’s gonna be chilly by the time we arrive!” Y/N yelled out from the room as Rosé was out in the living room, looking for a spare bag.

“And don’t you forget to bring my plushie for when I sleep on the car!”

Creasing her brows, Y/N entered the living room with one plushie in each hands before she questioned, “Shall I bring Milly or Peaches?”

Turning around to face her girlfriend, the sight absolutely melted Rosé’s heart as she giggled and shook her head with adoration. With her girlfriend still sporting a serious expression on her face, the Australian walked towards her before she placed her hands on her girlfriend’s hips while saying, “Hmm, why don’t we bring both?”

“Yeah, I figured,” Y/N said with pursued lips as Rosé looks at her curiously before the girl clarified seriously, “Well, that way none of them gets jealous.”

The Australian laughed loudly as she quickly cupped her girlfriend’s face and unconsciously caressed her cheeks while softly saying, “You, my dear, are the cutest person I know.”

Brows creased and cheeks slightly red, Y/N questioned adorably, “.... Are we still talking about Milly and Peaches?”

xoxo

Rosé missed this.

She missed the smell of Australian air and how the cold breeze completely compliments the heat of the sun. It was something that she grew up with and has never forgotten- even after she moved to Korea.

Don’t get her wrong, she absolutely loves Seoul and the people there but there was something about Melbourne that gave her a sense of calm. She was even more content now, considering that she was in Melbourne with the person she’s so in love with.

“I remember you telling me that one day we’d go to Brighton beach together,” Y/N chimed in softly as she glanced at her girlfriend before looking back at the road as she continued to drive and said, “You were so excited by the thought of it, I knew it must’ve been amazing.”

Smiling contently at her girlfriend, Rosé leaned the side of her head against the head rest as she nodded and quietly chirped, “It was on my bucket list growing up; to go to Brighton beach with the person I’m crazily in love with.”

“And I’m the person who you’re crazily in love with?”

The Australian giggled before she took Y/N’s free hand and placed a chaste kiss on her knuckles while saying, “Yes and I have been for the past 11 months.”

Y/N looked at Rosé temporarily, at the same time as the sun hits her face and emphasizing her gorgeous brown eyes as the former sighs contently and breathes out, “God, I have no idea what I did in my previous life to deserve someone like you, Park Chaeyoung.”

As her girlfriend looks back at the road, Rosé leans over the center console before she leans her head on Y/N’s shoulder and said, “Sweets, as long as we’re together in this current lifetime, nothing else really matters.”

That instantly made the driving girl smile as she leaned her head on top of the Australian’s head while they continued to drive to Brighton beach. The drive didn’t really take that long but due to sudden traffic, the couple finally arrived at the destination 35 minutes later. Because it was a weekday, the beach was rather empty but honestly, the couple enjoyed it that way.

Stepping out of the car with all their items in their hands, the couple looked at the gorgeous sky that were a mixture of yellow, orange and a hint of magenta. It was so picture perfect that Rosé couldn’t help but take a deep breath and released a sigh of content.

“This almost seems unreal.” The Australian whispered, loud enough for her girlfriend to hear as she added, “The color of the skies are just... wow.”

While Rosé gazes at the sky, Y/N gazes at her.

She’s experienced this multiple times whenever she’s with Rosé because she can’t believe that such a person exists in her lifetime. Not only was her girlfriend a multitalented human being, but she was one of the kindest and most caring soul too.

Rosé then looked at Y/N and realized that the latter was shamelessly staring at her before she teased, “Why don’t you take a picture, sweetheart? It’ll last longer.”

“Photos don’t do your beauty justice; how the color of the sky hits your skin and makes your eyes shine a little bit brighter than before; God, this is what I dream of everyday.”

Out of the complete blue, tears were threatening to leave Rosé’s eyes as she hears the sweet words before she abruptly looked away and croaked out, “Let’s go hang out by the beach before the sun sets.”

The couple then made their way to the empty beach, sitting at the steps at one of the colorful houses that were known to tourists all around the world. They laid out everything that they’ve brought, Milly and Peaches enjoying the sight of the scenery themselves as the couple hugged each other while a blanket covers their shoulders.

Their eyes were locked on the skies as the colors of orange, yellow and magenta began to darken slightly and the breeze of cold air were more blatant than they were before. The sound of the currents and the loud squawking of the seagulls making its appearance as shades of gray entered the warm colored sky.

With her arms wrapped around her girlfriend’s waist, the Australian leaned her head at the crook of Y/N’s neck as she took a deep breath and released a content sigh before saying, “Can’t believe we’re finally here.”

“Who would’ve known that I’d be sitting at Brighton beach with the one and only, Roseanne Park?” Y/N questioned rhetorically as a small smile formed on her lips before she continued, “Sometimes I feel like this is all a dream and in five minutes, I’m going to wake up and realize that it was all a dream.”

Rosé then looked up at her girlfriend before she whispered, “Well, we can’t have that now, can we?” She teased before she joked, “What can we do to change that, Ms. Y/L/N?”

Chuckling softly at her girlfriend, Y/N hummed before she pretended to think while suggesting, “I’m not sure myself, Ms. Rosie; do you think a kiss would do?”

The Australian then grinned adorably as she nodded slightly before saying, “I can’t think of a better solution, Ms.”

With that, Rosé then scooted closer before she gently connected her lips with her girlfriend’s, both of their eyes fluttering shut at the contact as the sound of the whistling air fill the atmosphere.

Slowly pulling away, the tips of their nose were slightly touching before the couple smiled affectionately at each other as Y/N whispered teasingly, “It is definitely one of my favorite solutions, that’s for sure.”

The Australian then laughed warmly before she rolled her eyes playfully and stood up with the blanket around her shoulders as she faced her girlfriend while saying, “You better cherish it, my love; I don’t give out my solutions easily.”

And in that moment, when her girlfriend was simply smiling at her with that beautiful smile of hers, Y/N knew that she was screwed forever.

Rosé was not only beautiful on the outside but after dating her for so long, she knew that her girlfriend had one of the most beautiful souls she’s ever known.

She loved the fact that her girlfriend was sensitive and could easily cry to a heartwarming video; it told her that Rosé was insanely empathetic.

She loved the fact that her girlfriend loved her pet fish like crazy and would do anything to pamper it; it meant that she was loving to the one she cared, regardless of who or what they are.

She loved how Rosé would eat all the food that she cooked, even if it was burnt because the Australian said that the effort was what matters; it meant that she was appreciative of the smallest things.

Long story short, Y/N loved Rosé entirely- it was as simple as that.

“You make it so easy.”

Rosé looked at her girlfriend with slight confusion as she chuckled softly and asked, “Huh? I make what so easy?”

Y/N then stood up, cupped her girlfriend’s face with both her hands before she lovingly admitted, “You... make it so easy for me to love you.”

As expected, Rosé teared up slightly before she wrapped her hands around her girlfriend’s wrist as she whispered, “Y/N-“

“I can’t explain in detail on how much you affect me, Rosie because every time I look at you or think of you, my mind just goes wild,” Y/N revealed as she gently caressed Rosé’s cheek before continuing with, “And whenever you’re sad or angry, all I want to do is to make sure you’re gonna be okay and that you’re letting it all out instead of bottling it up.”

Finally, a tear finally fell down Rosé’s cheek as she grabbed onto her girlfriend a little bit tighter before Y/N continued, “Yeah, we may have our bad days and we may have our disagreements but I know for sure that there is no one else I’d rather have bad days with... because with you, Park Chaeyoung, everything makes sense,” She whispered as the pads of her thumbs wipe away the fallen tears, “I have some doubts about my life in the world but you, my darling, are the one thing that I’m absolutely sure of.”

Rosé then sighed in content before she leaned herself against Y/N as she whispered, “.... I’m so in love with you, Y/N Y/L/N..” She lovingly admitted before she pulled away slightly and looked into the eyes of her girlfriend as she added, “I hope you know that you’re stuck with me for a long time.”

“Oh baby, I’m yours for a lifetime, if you’d like.”

#blackpink #blink #blackpink imagines #blackpink scenarios #blackpink reactions #blackpink imagine #blackpink scenario #blackpink reaction #park chaeyoung #rose #blackpink rose #roseanne park

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ofieugogyshz · 3 years

Text

Fic;; Memories: Riolu III

Word Count: 4900

Warnings: None

Summary: Slowly accepting that maybe she might be having difficulties with Riolu, Sarah accepts that Lance was right, and that she might want to get in contact with someone like the Sinnoh Champion Cynthia in order to figure out what was wrong, and how to fix it.

Notes: This fic was published as Lucario II, but I changed it to Riolu III to better suit the focus of the naming convention.

Read First | Second | Third

(Alternatively, Series Masterpost)

-----------

It was difficult, trying to train Riolu. What started out as an instant bond felt like it was tapering away. Trying to bond with him the traditional way wasn't working, either. It was getting harder and harder to understand him, his battle style, his personality, and I could tell that he was getting frustrated too.

Maybe Lance was right. Training a Riolu was going to be difficult because I wasn't open or honest about my emotions. And, honestly, I didn't want to be. Maybe it would have been more accurate to say that I didn't want to feel those emotions, much less share or admit them. I always tried to hide them, except when I was angry or hurt. Then I wanted everyone to know it. But then I'd try to hide it again, because that's what was right, was socially expected. And it just made it harder to figure out how I was supposed to respond to something. Everything just felt like a spiral, and it was on several occasions that Riolu commented on how confusing and chaotic it made reading my aura, until I couldn't understand his thoughts anymore.

And admitting that I needed help? That was hard. Difficult. But, if it was the Sinnoh Champion, then maybe I could challenge her to a battle as well, ask to train with her a bit...? I could use that as a lean in, and casually bring up Riolu, and see what she'd say.

I asked around. Some people told me that she was partial to ruins and mythology, suggesting that I might want to try Celestic Town, Solaceon Ruins, or the Library in Canalave City. Although Canalave City was where my next Gym Badge was located, I decided to go north. I battled against several trainers along the routes there, becoming more discouraged when my connection with Riolu felt more and more out of sync.

No one said they had spotted her around Solaceon Town or the Ruins, so I pressed on north. I decided to take a break at the Cafe Cabin. I stepped inside, greeted by the employees. Pika and Riolu walked in beside me. My Pikachu was used to this sort of thing, but I had forgotten that Riolu, only a few months old, hadn't yet been inside a battle cafe. I took a seat at a booth, while Riolu followed behind slowly, eyes wandering as it took in the busy atmosphere.

“Can we get you anything?” asked a waitress. “A battle? Food? Or just drinks?”

“Just drinks for now,” I said. “Pinap juice for Pika, Pomeg-Watmel smoothie for me, and...” I looked at Riolu, who was sitting across from me. It was standing up on the seat, looking over its edge at all the trainers and their Pokemon in the cafe. It was rather busy, so there was a lot for it to take in. I felt a tinge of worry that it might be overwhelming for it, but it kept staring in awe.

“Ri....”

“Um. I think a Moomoo Milk for my Riolu?”

The waitress nodded, hastily scribbling down the order before leaving.

I sighed. Part of me wanted to believe that maybe there was a quick fix-all for being able to bond with Riolu better, so I could understand him better, but I knew that that wasn't going to be the case. Still... Riolu looked around, and I followed its gaze wherever it went. A trainer with a Machamp, another with a Glameow, one with a Meditite, and so on. More Pokemon in one spot than it had seen yet. His eyes wandered until he saw something towards the corner. I watched as it continued to stare in awe, and followed its gaze. My eyes widened.

“Isn't that...”

I thought back to Eterna City. I had met someone that looked just like her. Long blonde hair, a long black coat over black pants, with quiet serenity. I had come to look at the statue on the far side of that town, and found her there, reading the inscription with an intense focus that was more than touristy.

What did she say her name was...? I flipped through the e-mails on my phone, trying to see if I had mentioned her in any that I had sent to my friends, whenever I was updating them about my adventure. Any posts I may have made on social media. Anything that might have mentioned the person I met back then.

“Today I met a trainer in Eterna City. She was beautiful! I wish I could be as pretty as her... Oh, but! More importantly! She was looking at the statue there too! She explained to me that it was part of Sinnoh mythology. I introduced myself to her, and told her alllll about my victories in the last three regions I been in! She said I was cute, and reminded her a little of herself when she started her journey.(I'm not cute, but whatever.) Then, I showed her my Pokedex. We had a lot of fun. I forgot to ask for her contact info... But she told me that her name was Cynthia, and that I'll probably see her around again!”

Ah. There it was--

“Wait...” I said quietly, to no one in particular. “Is she... No way, it's gotta totally be a coincidence!!”

I quickly looked up online “Champion Cynthia”, her photo coming up online as she held a trophy, the proclamation “Cynthia Wins the Sinnoh Cup Again!” titling an article. It matched the person that Riolu was staring at, with much focus.

“Nononono...” I buried my face in my hands and suppressed an embarrassed whine. I totally made a fool of myself back then... Ugh. Why did I act like that? Now the local Champion thinks that I'm a total child and-- AAAAAAAAA!!! This is awful, totally awful, uggggghhhh!!! Now how'm I supposed to ask her for help with Riolu?!! I screamed inside my head out of embarrassment at my past self.

I took a breath, trying to see if I could cope with having my face visible. I cupped my hands around my face and pushed them back into my hair, fingers running between strands as I tried to recompose myself. Well, no, maybe she wouldn't notice me... Ah. But that doesn't help with the 'trying to find her' part, and ask for her help training. I could probably find other trainers with Lucario! I mean, there's Blaze! He's the one who got me Riolu, after all! Or that person that he said he got his egg from! What was his name... I... R-something? Guh. Crap. I don't wanna ask Blaze though, because then I'll have to let him know why, and I don't wanna let him know that I'm having trouble with Riolu!! My pride wouldn't've allowed it, and there I was, just stewing in my thoughts, not even aware that our waitress had arrived with our drinks.

“Pi! Pika!!” Pikachu had eagerly grabbed at hers as the waitress pushed it past me.

“Are you okay, miss?”

I looked up at her. She had a mildly concerned expression on her face.

“Ah, I-- I'm fine, I promise. Thanks for the drinks.”

“Let me know if you need anything else.”

She left. I was alone once more with my thoughts. Pika was happily drinking from her juice, slurping it up noisily. Across from me, Riolu was still watching Cynthia, unaware that it had a drink in front of it. I let out a long sigh, stirring my smoothie with my straw as I continued to watch its fixation on the region's beautiful Champion. I pushed the bottle of Moomoo Milk across the table, letting it make a loud noise in an attempt to distract the Riolu.

“Riolu, here! I got you some tasty milk to drink!”

<<...strong!>>

I blinked. Riolu turned around to me, an excited expression on his face.

<<...really strong! ….meet? >>

Maybe I was imagining it, or maybe that was how he really felt right now. It had been so long since I felt his voice, that I wondered if I was making it up, inserting my own understanding of how it felt. Riolu's tail wagged a little, hopeful that I might say yes to what it wanted.

“Uh... N-not right now, Riolu. C'mon, sit. We can go say hi after,” I said, half-lying. Riolu's tail stopped. He looked at me, uncertain; as uncertain as I was about if I was still interested in talking to Cynthia. Riolu plopped down, taking the Moomoo Milk and drinking, looking a little angry, upset with me. Maybe I might change my mind after we rest a bit, but for now...

When we were done, I paid for our order and left. The Champion wasn't anywhere in the cafe anymore, as far as I could tell, and I felt a little safe leaving now that she wasn't around. Riolu yipped loudly at my side, partially in excitement, partially in impatience. I didn't need to have a connection to know what he was wanting right then and there.

To meet Cynthia.

“No, we are NOT going to look for her right now, okay? Let's just keep heading north and see if we can't find her at--”

An angry thought burst into my mind.

<<But that WAS her!! I know it was!!! She had a Lucario!!!!!>>

Riolu had ran in front of me, cheeks puffed up and tail standing up straight as it glared at me. It felt like a stare-down. Beside me, Pika looked back and forth between the two of us, unsure of what was gonna happen. Riolu growled softly. Pika ran in front of it, trying to mediate between the two of us, waving her arms.

“Pika pi!! Pi pika, pikachu!”

The attempt only made Riolu growl more. It pushed her away, speeding towards me with a charge. Its head hit my chest, knocking me over. I couldn't hear what it said as it ran away. Pika started to give chase.

“Pika!!! Pikachu chu chu!!!”

I groaned, sitting up slowly. I let out quick hisses of pain as I propped myself up with my elbows. Pika yelled after Riolu. But instead of continuing her chase, she turned back around to check up on me when I sat up.

“Pi?!”

I groaned. Tears were in my eyes from the aching, stinging pain. I clutched at my body, trying to will myself not to cry more from it.

“Ow!!” Touching had made it hurt more. I could tell that a gnarly bruise was in store when the pain would subside.

“Pika!!!”

“It's okay, Pika. I'll--” I let out a hiss of pain, impatiently waiting for the pain to dull. “I'll be fine. But more importantly, do you know which way Riolu ran off?”

She ran over to the edge of a thicket of trees and pointed. “Chu!!”

I stumbled to my feet and set off after Riolu.

I didn't know what kind of Pokemon lived in these trees, and it worried me that something might have happened to him in here. Unfortunately, I didn't have too many Pokemon that could help me look, and the thicket was getting denser the more I went in. Pikachu was leading me on the ground, trying to follow Riolu's scent. I had to backtrack when she lost it, and when we were in a slightly wider trail, I let out my Crobat, Janet. I quickly explained to her that we were looking for Riolu.

“He ran off somewhere in here. Please help us find him!”

She let out a noise of agreement and zoomed off, hastily flying between trees until I couldn't see her anymore. Pika and I continued with our search on the ground.

I was getting more anxious with every step I took.

The path we followed opened up into a small clearing. It looked like a Pokemon battle happened there. Branches and leaves were scattered across the floor, with some of the thicker ones still having their leaves on them. The ground had been disturbed, with indentations from the fight. Several of the trees had claw marks on it. I felt my heartbeat quicken, worried that Riolu had gotten himself into trouble.

“RIOOOOLLUUUU!!!!” I shouted.

“PIIKAAAA!!!”

Our voices echoed slightly. The sound disrupted a handful of Starly in the trees. They flew away. I heard the sound of wings flapping towards us. It was Janet; she had returned to find us.

“You find anything?!” I asked her.

Janet nodded, making a noise that sounded like a 'whsk'. She kept making it as she flew around us, impatiently waiting for the command to go.

“Lead the way!”

-----

Riolu had ran out of the thicket. He wasn't afraid of the Pokemon that he had encountered, since he had won. The moves his Lucario father and his trainer had taught him were incredibly useful, more than he had realized under his current trainer. But, after all the battles he had done on the way here, that last one had made him tired. He had decided to head back, still mad about what had happened, but also apologetic about hurting his trainer. He hoped he didn't hurt her too badly. His steps quickened until he could see the growing light of the exit of the forest.

Cynthia had returned back to the cafe, carrying a small bag containing medicine for the Psyduck that had taken up residence along a major path by it. It was causing difficulties for the cafe to receive and distribute its product along the one side. The owner of Cafe Cabin had called her over, asking her to help take care of the issue. And what those Psyduck needed was the Secret Potion, a rural recipe capable of helping relieve even the recurrent headaches that Psyducks got.

Cynthia's Lucario was helping her distribute the medicine to the Psyduck that lined the road. He stopped suddenly, looking into the forest with sudden focus. That had gotten Cynthia's attention, and she turned, looking to where her Lucario did.

A small, black and blue Pokemon came out of the thicket. It rested against one of the trees, sighing. It lifted up its head, looking around, and came across the sight of Cynthia and her Lucario looking at it. Its eyes widened, and excitement overcame it. With renewed vigor, it ran over, letting out happy yips as it bounced around them.

“Hm? What's this?” Cynthia knelt down to brush some twigs and leaves out of its fur. “A Riolu?”

They're usually not common in this area, she thought to herself. But the mystery of where it came from wouldn't last for very long. A Crobat had come out of the woods, quick on the tail of the small Riolu. Cynthia and Lucario tensed, prepared to help protect the small Pokemon if Crobat proved aggressive.

The Crobat stopped a few yards away, calling out to the Riolu.

“Ri. Ri!” It ran out to greet the large purple bat. Crobat landed, folding its wings around the Riolu as it hugged the Pokemon.

“Well, that's interesting,” said Cynthia. Her and Lucario looked at each other and nodded. Lucario closed its eyes and held out its palms, allowing both its trainer and the two Pokemon before it to better understand one another with its aura powers.

“Crobat, were you looking for this Riolu?” It nodded. “Is your trainer nearby?” Crobat turned towards the trees, twitching an ear as it listened. There was the faint call of its trainer, shouting out for the Riolu, but it was far too distant for Lucario, much less Cynthia, to hear. It turned back around, letting go of Riolu as it flapped back into the air.

“Okay then, Crobat. Go and get your trainer, and I'll wait here with Riolu. I promise I won't go anywhere.”

Crobat looked at Cynthia, then to Lucario. Its eyes shifted back to Cynthia, who gave it a gentle smile. Normally, Crobat wouldn't have trusted anyone to take care of one of her trainer's Pokemon without her permission, but Lucario helped communicate what was in their hearts. These were good people. There wasn't an ounce of malice in their hearts. With some reluctance, Crobat turned towards the forest, flying back into it in order to grab its trainer.

“Now then, little Riolu. Do you care to tell me how you and your trainer got separated?”

-----

I ran out of the clearing, following Crobat's directions. She flew out into the clearing, circling low, and Pika followed her all the way out there. I rested a hand against a nearby tree, trying to catch my breath. I could hear a happy cry from Pika that let me know that she had found Riolu. I stood back up and hurried along, coming into sight of a trainer and several Pokemon, not including the line of Psyduck that was lying about neaby. I stopped when I recognized the black clothes and long, blonde hair.

Cynthia turned around to greet me.

“Hi there! You must be Riolu's trainer.”

I nodded, walking towards them once again.

“Thanks for finding him,” I said. I didn't know what else to say. I hadn't planned on this, and my mind was drawing up a blank, still stuck on the “find Riolu” plan, that the “Talk to Cynthia” plan hadn't yet intersected. As I got closer, her expression changed to one of curiosity, as she seemed to recognize me.

“Oh! You're the trainer I met back in Eterna City. Thank you for that day, by the way. You really helped me out.”

“E-eh!?” I felt my face flush, and held up my hands, shaking them in an criss-cross motion. “No no no, thank you, for. Um. Well, talking to me, I guess. And humoring me? I'm so sorry that I wasted your time though! I didn't know who you were, and I'm sure you're pretty busy as the Champion, and, oh! You said you were researching, so I'm so sorry that I interrupted your day that day!” I bowed my head, apologetic. My face was still flushed.

She laughed. It was an amused laugh, one that reminded me of Lance's.

“Don't worry about it!” Cynthia said. “Like I said, you really helped me out that day. I kept hitting a wall in my research, but spending some time with someone who wasn't from here, and sharing the myths with them really helped me get out of that rut. You won't believe how much it helps shifting your focus for just a moment.”

I lifted my head to look at her. Now that I knew who she was, she looked more beautiful than I first thought. A part of me became bitter. It was a small, envious feeling, and I could shush it away, but it hurt, just a little bit, to see her. A female Champion that was beautiful, well-respected, famous, and had amazing synchronicity with her Lucario. Speaking of...

I looked at Cynthia's Lucario. It didn't seem to mind having Riolu hop around it excitedly.

<<...look! ...Lucario!!!>>

“I'm sorry if Riolu was interfering with your training.”

“Oh, not at all! Actually--” She turned around, looking at the Psyduck that were lying in the middle of the road. “--We were trying to help these poor Psyduck. You said you were from Kanto, right? So you must know how hard it is for Psyduck with their chronic headaches.”

“Yeah. Misty mentioned that it made it difficult for her Golduck to focus on training when he was still a Psyduck. Is that why they're all lying about in the road like that?”

“Yes. I went to get them some medication, and when I started treating them, your little Riolu came up to us. I was having Lucario help me treat them, but he seems to be pre-occupied with your Riolu now. Why don't you help me instead?”

I nodded, taking a couple of the bottles from her. We began to treat the Psyduck. Some of them let out pro-longed quacks, dramatic cries of pain. Some only whimpered, until we administered the medicine. We worked from the outside in, meeting each other in the middle as the Psyducks we treated still lamented, rubbing their heads.

“Okay, that's the last one!” Cynthia said.

We waited.

“How long does it normally take for them to get better?” I asked.

“It shouldn't be too much longer.”

The first two Psyduck we treated suddenly bounced up. They looked at us with their vacant expressions, before suddenly tilting their heads in confusion.

“Psy?”

Several more followed. The cries of the loudest ones stopped, though a few of them kept crying until their buddies picked them up. They talked to them, and the Psyduck slowly pulled their hands from their heads, letting them fall against their feathery bodies. They looked at their companions with a vacation expression, before tilting their heads in confusion.

“Psy?”

The group was satisfied that all of them had been thoroughly treated, and they waddled off together. A few of them waved at Cynthia and I as they left, and we waved back. Both of us were happy that we had helped alleviate some of the pain that these Pokemon had, at least for now.

I looked down at the empty bottles I held in my arms.

“That's amazing! What is this?”

“It's a Secret Potion.”

“A secret potion?” I repeated. It was now my turn to tilt my head in confusion. “Why's it a secret?”

Cynthia laughed. “It's the ingredients! The recipe is a secret; only my grandmother knows how to make it. I went to visit her in Celestic Town before I came back here to treat them.”

“Aww. I wanna know how to make it!” I said, arms flailing.

“I can't tell you. My own grandmother hasn't told even me the recipe, and she brags to everyone about what a great trainer I am!” She laughed, and I pouted.

“Now, now. I'm sure there's plenty of chances for you to find something just as equally amazing. Oh, but that's right! I wanted to talk to you about your Riolu.”

I felt my face heat a little as I looked away in shame.

“Y-Yeah... That's, um, actually-- I came up this way because I was looking for you. Because we're having trouble staying on the same wave length.”

Cynthia looked at me, quirking an eyebrow. I continued.

“Y'see...” I explained to her about Riolu-- how long I've had him, where he came from, and that my friend who hatched him had named him after someone I liked. I vaguely talked about the embarrassment I got whenever Riolu was there for my phone calls with Lance. Except, I didn't tell her who, or that I had a crush on them, just that I was speaking with a friend. Cynthia nodded along thoughtfully, and when my cheeks heated up, there was a small, knowing smile. The way I stumbled through explaining more about it, the more my cheeks heated up, caused me to finally admit that it was someone I had a crush on.

“Mhmm.... Mhmm. I see. From what you've told me, and from what Riolu's told Lucario, it seems that your emotions are getting in the way of your connection.” I gave her a look of dismay, and she continued. “I'm sorry, but it's what seems to be the truth. The two of you need to be open and honest with each other, or else that connection will suffer. Riolu are very sensitive Pokemon. They can see auras as colored waves-- Oh, I feel like I've just told someone else this very same conversation.”

I felt a sudden jolt of fear and stood up straighter, afraid that she might connect the thread between the two.

“Ahahaha... well, I bet it's because people think you're the number one authority on this, huh? I bet all kinds of people from all over ask you about Riolus and Lucarios! ”

“You're not wrong about that...” Cynthia said. She sounded a little distracted, lost in thought. Silence fell between us for a moment, before she suddenly came back to the present. “Oh, I apologize. Sometimes I get a little lost in thought when I'm thinking about something. Where were we?”

“Uh. Outside the Cafe Cabin?” I said, a half-hearted joked. She smiled.

“Well, your emotional honesty and openness aside, you also need to make sure that your Pokemon know that you love them. It's that connection that will help them filter through any conflicting emotions that you might have.”

“But I do love Riolu, I really do!!”

Cynthia looked down at Riolu, who spoke to Lucario.

“Ri ri!”

“It doesn't seem that way to him.”

The weight of that feeling suddenly pressed down on my heart. I found myself angry, frustrated at myself. I turned towards my Riolu and knelt down. I held out my arms towards him.

“Riolu, I'm sorry. I'm really really sorry. I didn't know you felt that way about me. That you thought I felt that way, I mean. I don't want you to think that I hate you or dislike you, I really don't. But please, please please come back with me? We can try again, and I'll try my best to do better at listening, and-- um, well, I can't guarantee that my emotions will get any easier, but I'll promise to go over them with you, when, um, we have time? I promise I'll try to help you understand me.” I sighed. “It's just, that... I don't understand myself very well either. So I won't always have the answer about it.” I felt tears well up in my eyes and I closed them. It felt like that was going to cause a permanent block in my bond with Riolu, and that wasn't something that I wanted. But I didn't know how to get around it.

I felt a gentle hand on my shoulder. I looked to see Cynthia, a sympathetic smile on her face. There was some semblance of understanding, some sort of feeling like that. I could sense that from her, but I couldn't quite understand how I knew that she did. It just didn't feel like something she knew in the present.

“It's okay. You don't need to understand yourself just yet. That's what your emotions are there for. They help you learn about yourself, and what you think of certain things. But your emotions aren't always going to be easy to understand, either. But you can ask Riolu to help you understand them, when you feel like you're uncertain of yourself. You just have to trust that Riolu will know what they mean.”

I felt my heart lurch in my chest. Her words were potent, important. Even I could tell that much at that moment. Things that I would save and keep in my heart for many years to come. I would come to rely on that wisdom that she gave me that day, even when over decade passed. But in that moment, as powerful as I knew they were, and as true as they were, I felt myself start to cry.

Riolu took a few steps forward. I could feel it's concern, its hesitation. It wanted to reach out, but he also felt just as upset as I did, mad at me for never... never calling him by his name?

“Now...” I could hear Cynthia's soft voice in my ear. “Why don't you try calling out to Riolu by name?”

I felt my face flush up at the same time that my pain waned. I was afraid. How many people name their Pokemon after their friends? After people they were in contact with? But I was more afraid of what Lance would think, if he knew, if he found out that my friend named Riolu after him. All because I had a crush on him. It was embarrassing.... And causing Riolu pain, too, to not be called by the name he was given. He was proud of his namesake. As he ought to be. But it was so... It was so difficult. I couldn't even say that name normally. How could I be expected to call out my Riolu's name, when it was named after my crush?

As my mind wavered between the two extremes, I could feel Riolu sense that struggle. He took a step back, withdrawing that connection from me. But I knew what was right. I knew that Cynthia was right. What was right for him, for both of us.

I took a deep breath. I gulped, before nodding, slowly.

“C-C'mere...... L...Lance.”

I could feel the surprise from Riolu. The shock, appreciation, happiness. He ran towards me and jumped into my arms. I hugged him tightly, crying into him. It would have been wrong to continue to call him by any name other than that one. Whispering over and over again, “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Lance.”

Riolu—Lance, I mean, buried his head between my shoulder and neck. He nuzzled me, happy and relieved that I had gotten it-- That I had finally called him by his name.

#Champion Cynthia #Pokemon Cynthia #Pokemon selfship #Pokemon selfshipping #selfship #selfship community #selfship fic #these tags look suspect but jokes on all of you if you think its going there #fic series: memories lucario

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i-am-a-closet-fanfic-fiend · 4 years

Text

Sexiled (Part 19/23) ~ Steve Rogers x Reader ~ College!AU

A/N: Hello my lovelies! Happy Friday! Hope you’re all doing well and I hope you enjoy this!

Summary: You and Steve discuss the night before. You and Sarah bond over the ballet.

Characters/Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader, Sarah Rogers,

Rating: K+

Warnings: Light angst, discussing death of spouse/parent, feels, fluffy Steve

Word Count: 1679

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

You woke slowly, no alarms, no annoyed roommate, just steady breathing and a muted scuffing that you couldn’t place, coming from beside you.

“Good morning, sweetness.”

“Good morning. Umm, how did we get up here?”

The last thing you remembered was being curled up in Steve’s lap, stroking his hair and pressing the occasional kiss to whichever part of his face you were closest to.

“You walked. I did wonder if you were actually awake. Guess I got my answer,” he chuckled, continuing to sketch.

You propped your head in your hand so you could study him.

“You’re so beautiful,” you sighed, as you mentally traced his features. You couldn’t help but smile when his cheeks turned pink. Placing his sketchpad and pencil on the bedside table, he scooted down in the bed so he was mimicking your position.

“You are the most beautiful person I have ever met. Inside and out.”

You ducked your head, flustered by his sincerity. Steve reached out to brush your hair out of your face, lingering on your cheek pulling your gaze to him.

“Thank you for last night,” Steve murmured. “I wasn’t expecting to react like that.”

You pulled his hand away from your cheek so you could kiss his palm.

“Thank you for being open with me. How are you feeling?”

“Much better. It’s the first time I really talked about feeling that way. It helped a lot.”

“You know you can talk to me about stuff like that any time.”

“I don’t want to burden you,” he argued but you were already shaking your head.

“It’s not a burden. Your problems are not a burden. You are not a burden.”

His eyes widened at your words, and you knew you’d hit the nail on the head.

“Steve, listen to me. You are never a burden to me or to anyone else. Do you understand me?”

He nodded, slowly, still mulling it over.

“Yes. I’m not sure I believe you. But I’ll work on it.”

You smiled at his honesty. “That’s all I ask.”

“I love you,” he whispered, kissing your forehead.

“I love you too. I was right by the way,” you added with a satisfied smile.

“About what?”

“I do love you more today than yesterday.”

His answering smile was radiant. When he kissed you it was slow and deliberate and he poured every ounce of emotion into it.

“As do I,” he whispered when he pulled away. “As do I.”

You spent a little longer kissing and processing the night before. When you finally got yourselves ready for the day you found the downstairs was halfway to being a winter wonderland.

“Good morning, kids,” Sarah greeted from behind a box of Santas.

“Good morning. You’ve been busy.”

“I can never wait to put up the Christmas decorations,” she admitted, panting out a laugh as she tried to juggle a box and the lights.

“I’ll get it, Ma.”

Steve rushed to her side to help with the box, and that was how most of the day went. When it was time to call it quits before the ballet the place was completely decked out.

After a quick shower, you retreated into Sarah’s room to get ready together.

“You looked so beautiful on your wedding day,” you gushed when you noticed the wedding photos on her vanity as she carefully arranged your hair into an elegant twist. “I love your gown. It’s so classic.”

“Thank you. I still love that dress. I think if I were to get married again, I’d still pick it.”

“I hope I feel that way about my dress someday.”

“I’m sure you will.”

“Steve looks so much like his dad.”

“Yes, he does,” she sighed as she looked at the picture. “Sometimes when I come home and see Steve reading in this chair, I think it’s Joe for a just a minute.”

She sniffed as she pinned fabric flowers into your hair, just below your right ear.

“You look so beautiful, sweetheart,” she complimented, looking over your shoulder into the mirror as she tucked the tag into the back of your dress and smoothed the flutter sleeves.

You covered her hand with your own, squeezing.

“Thank you. And thank you again for this. It’s so amazing. I always dreamed of seeing the Nutcracker done professionally.”

“It’s my pleasure.” She leaned on the end of the bed to slip her shoes on. “I’m excited to share it with someone who loves it as much as I do. Joe and Steve have never quite shared my love of the ballet, but they always went along with me.”

She sat next to you on the vanity bench to put on her jewelry.

“Did you go often?”

“Usually just the Nutcracker. But Joe always made it special. He made sure that Steve and he were dressed in the best clothes. And he’d bring me a bouquet. Red roses and pink tulips. And we always took our holiday photo that night.”

“That so sweet.”

“This is the first year we’re going since Joe passed,” Sarah admitted quietly.

“Really?” you asked, choked up.

“Yes. Steve had been getting sicker. And by the time Dr. Erksine came along, it felt too hard to go back. So we just let the years pass.”

You tried to find the words to comfort her, but none came so you held her hand instead. She squeezed tightly, a silent thank you as she sniffed back a few tears.

“It was high time to bring the tradition back. And what better reason than to share it with someone so special to Steve.”

“I’m…” Flattered? Honored? You couldn’t find the right words.

“You don’t have to say anything. I think we understand each other very well.”

You stayed quiet together for a few more moments before she shook her head and stand up.

“Are you ready, sweetheart?”

“Absolutely.”

Steve was dressed in a gray suit and sitting in the armchair in the living room scrolling through his phone when you and Sarah came down, but he immediately hopped to his feet when he heard you on the stairs.

“You both look beautiful.”

“Thank you, son.”

“Ma, I have something for you.”

“What is it?”

He reached behind the armchair and retrieved a bouquet of tulips and roses. You had to bite back your aww and you could see Sarah fighting tears.

“I know that things are different now with dad being gone, but I thought since we were bringing back this tradition, I could carry on this part too. I want to make things special for you again.”

She reached out to cup his cheek and you had to look away to give them privacy.

“Oh, Steve.”

She hugged him, bringing his head down to her shoulder as she cradled the back of his head.

“You are a good man. Your dad would be so proud.”

The ride to the Metropolitan Opera House was quiet. A lot of emotions had been stirred up so far that evening, but when you finally arrived, the overwhelming one was excitement. You couldn’t take in the details around you quickly enough. You were certain you were missing amazing things. You felt Steve’s amused gaze as he led you by the hand, allowing you to devour the new environment.

Once you were seated, you continued your attempt to commit the architecture to memory – memories you knew would never do it justice.

When the lights dimmed, your breath caught in anticipation. Steve’s fingers found yours, grounding you, even as you were threatened to be carried away by the music. You were one of the first on your feet during the curtain call, clapping until your hands stung and your arms were sore.

“What did you think?” Sarah asked as you slowly filed out of the theater.

“It was breathtaking. Did you enjoy it?”

“Very much so. And what about you, Steven? Did you enjoy the evening?” Sarah asked, a teasing tone in her voice you didn’t quite understand.

“I did,” he assured her. “I believe I saw something truly beautiful tonight.”

“I’m sure you did.”

You watched the back and forth curiously, before Sarah turned her attention back to you, clearly changing the subject.

“Y/n, sweetheart, would you mind taking our picture?”

“Of course.”

You took her phone from her and lined up a shot of the two of them below the marquee and then several close ups.

“There you go. Let me know if you like them,” you told her, handing back the phone.

“Oh they’re perfect. Okay, now let’s get you two together. Come on. Get close.”

Steve’s ears turned pink with his mother’s fussing, but tugged you into his side nonetheless. You felt awkward in the first few, but when you looked up to see Steve’s warm gaze you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face.

“There you go! More like that. Act like you like each other.”

That made you laugh.

She took a few more pictures before asking a passerby to take one of the three of you and finally hailing a cab back home. She kissed both you and Steve good night.

As you lay, curled up in his bed, you asked the question that you’d been wondering since witnessing Steve and Sarah’s exchange.

“Steve,” you whispered.

“Yeah, sweetness.”

“Did you not like the ballet?”

He chuckled; he knew where you were going with this.

“To be honest, I didn’t watch most of it.”

“What were-“

“I was too busy watching you,” he explained. “That’s what Ma was teasing me for.”

“Why were you watching me?” You asked, just barely able to make out his features in the darkness.

“Because you are so beautiful when you’re happy. You light up so brightly. How could you expect me to watch anything else?”

You wanted to scoff. Or laugh it off. But you knew he was utterly serious.

“I could watch you be happy forever, sweetness.”

“Nothing would make me happier than forever with you,” you whispered.

“Win/win then,” he chuckled, pulling you close and kissing your temple.

A/N: Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed.

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#Sexiled #Steve Rogers x Reader #Steve Rogers #College!AU #college!steve rogers #Part 19

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thesilencebeforeastorm · 4 years

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The Light In My Life - Jean x Reader

A/n: Oh my god, this is so SAD. I PROMISE ya I will write a fluffy fic for Jean after this, I already got an idea from someone. It will happen! In the meantime, have some feels... College!AU

TW: Attempted Suice, Blood, Wounds, Cutting

Nothing was going right in his life.

Of course he had you and he had his best friend Marco so that wasn’t so bad. You two were the best things that had ever appeared in his life but his situation back at home was unbearable. His parents hated him and always treated him like shit for no reason. He tried many times to work things out but it would always end up with one of them shouting at the other in a big fight.

Jean found college as an escape. He was far away from that hell, enjoying the company of his friends, his girlfriend, and joining clubs to keep his mind busy, but when the semester was over or they were on a week’s break from school, his heart raced with anxiety at the thought of going back home.

It was two days away from the spring semester being over and while students were packing up their stuff to go home to spend time with their families or do other summer activities, Jean stood alone in his dorm room, sitting on the floor with his back pressed to his bed. He couldn’t handle it anymore, he couldn’t handle life anymore. He didn’t have his own place as a permanent escape and so school was only temporary. Dark thoughts clouded his mind, unable to see any light and hope for a better future. It pained him to think that he would leave his girlfriend behind and his best friend who would suffer greatly if he was gone but at the same time, part of him just wanted to leave this world behind.

He sat there shaking, knife in his hand that he had found somewhere in his room, staring at the wall in front of him. His heart was racing, his hands and forehead sweaty for what he was about to do and when he would do it. He looked at a photo of the two of you on his desk, tears piling up at his eyes from the pain. He decided that he should leave you some kind of note, something that you could read. There was a little part of him that wanted to be saved from this hell and so he found the fastest way to reach you. He pulled out his phone from his pocket, letting the knife go for a brief second so he could type up his last words. Minutes went by and he had finally pressed send, resting his phone at his side before picking up the knife again. He gritted his teeth as he held the knife at his left wrist, his logical side of his brain telling him to stop. Fighting and winning the battle in his own head, he cut deep into his wrist, biting down on his lip harshly at the pain. He continued cutting, bringing the knife towards him on his arm and watching the crimson blood flow out of his veins, his breathing heavy as he did so. He suddenly felt weak, his vision becoming blurry and dizziness taking over as the knife fell from his grasp. His breathing began to slow down as he looked over at the photo again. At least it was going to be over...

It was half past noon as you were eating lunch in the cafeteria at your university. You settled for a simple sandwich and a fruit since you didn’t really find today’s food appetizing. Everyone rambled on about what they were going to be doing during their summer break, whether it was parties, the beach or being with family. You rolled your eyes at them, chuckling softly before you realized what was to come. You were well aware of Jean’s situation back home and knew that he dreaded going there. You met his parents one time and it was a horrible experience, something that Jean swore he would never put you through again. You wondered where he was at since he had been quiet for most of the day but you figured he was busy packing his stuff. Getting up to toss your trash away, you walked back in the direction of your table to head on out of the cafeteria until you got a text message on your phone. Unlocking your screen, you saw it was from Jean and felt some joy that he finally wrote to you but noticed that he wrote to you an entire paragraph. You took the time to read it while you were still standing.

From: Jean

“Y/n… from the moment I met you, I knew that you were the right girl for me. The way your smile lit up a room only shed some light to my dark life and I finally felt some joy with you ....”

You smiled thinking it was a random love note he wrote to you. You continued reading the message.

From: Jean

“With summer break coming up soon, the light in my life would be leaving back home and my life would be back in darkness… I don’t think I can handle going back there… To be honest I don’t think I can handle living at all…”

Your eyes widened at his words, wondering what he was referring to with that last sentence but not wanting to think the worst. You continued reading.

From: Jean

“What I’m about to do isn’t your fault. It isn’t Marco’s fault either. You guys always tried your best, cheering me up when I felt low and letting me stay at your places whenever you could, no matter how far it was. I don’t want you to cry, even though I know that's impossible but I hate seeing you cry… I don’t know if I’m writing this to you for some kind of saving but.. I just want you to know that you did the best you could. I love you and always keep smiling okay?”

“Oh my god…” you whispered as your heart literally dropped right there, trying to process the message you just read. Your heart then began racing at the idea of Jean, your Jean taking his own life. You were frozen in place for a second but eventually snapped out of it and ran out of there in a panic. You ran as fast as you could, not caring who saw or spoke to you to ask you what was wrong. You just had to find Jean.

You dashed across the halls, eventually finding his dorm room, knowing that that was the only place he could possibly be at. You tried to open the door but realized it was locked and that drove you more mad in fear.

“Jean! Open the door!” you yelled out as you pulled on the door handle forcefully, trying to pry the door open. It didn’t work and you didn’t get any response.

“Jean god dammit, open the door!!”. Your screams were becoming louder with every passing second, banging on the door now for him to open it. If he wasn’t opening the door by now, it meant he was either about to harm himself or the harm had already been done.

“Y/n!”

In that moment, you heard your name and footsteps running towards you as fast as they could from the end of the hall. Looking at who it was and hoping they would help you, you noticed it was Marco.

“Marco! He’s trying to kill himself!” you yelled out to him, panic racing though your body.

“I know, he texted me. Move back!”, he called out, his own fear written all over his face. You moved back as he charged through, his side making contact with Jean’s door as it finally opened. What you saw next was something you had wished to never see in your life.

“NO!” you screamed as you saw Jean sitting on the floor, his back pressed to his bed. You saw the crimson colored blood flowing out of his veins and onto the floor, wondering how long he had been like that and if he was already gone. Not wasting any time, you ran to his side while Marco froze for a second.

“Jean! Jean!” you cried out as you cupped his face to see if you would get some type of response since his eyes were closed. You placed your finger on his neck to check if he had a pulse and finally felt one thought it was very weak. At least it was a sign that he was still alive.

You noticed Marco was frozen in that second and you had to snap him out of it.

“He’s still alive! Marco, go find something to tie up his arm with, a sock, a tie, anything!” Finally snapping out of it, he went to check for what you requested. You focused your attention back at Jean.

“Jean, baby please look at me” you pleaded as he finally took in a weak breath and opened his eyes. He tilted his head slowly to look at you, tears staining his cheeks, the light in his eyes slowly fading out but still holding on. He was pale as ever, his color fading the more blood flowed out from his arm.

“What did you do Jean.. why”, you asked him through your sobs, knowing why he did it but still not accepting the scene before you.

“I got something! Here!” Marco yelled out, handing you two pairs of socks while he had his own. Letting go of Jean’s face, you looked at his arm horrified at what he did. The cut was pretty deep with no means to stop bleeding. You lifted his arm slowly but shaky, wrapping the socks under and around it, tying it tight to stop the bleeding. The blood would eventually seep through but the socks but it was what Marco could find. You were almost done when you saw Jean’s head tilt to the side from the corner of your eyes causing you to hand off your last sock to Marco before cupping his face forcefully, his blood now staining his cheeks.

“No no no, don’t you dare close your eyes on me, Kirschtein! You stay awake for me, you hear me!?” He opened his eyes once more, fighting the battle to stay awake before he finally said his first words.

“Don’t cry…”, he whispered, only causing you to cry more.

“We gotta take him to the nurse so they can call for more help from there. I gotta move him.”

Listening to Marco’s words, He placed his arm carefully on his stomach as he went to pick up Jean from his right side. He lifted him up, both of your hands covered in his blood as you left the room and rushed to get him some help…

It had been hours since Jean attempted to end his life. The nurse did all she could before calling an ambulance to take him to a hospital. Jean ended up needing surgery because of how deep the cut in his arm was, which only made your heart ache with anticipation as you waited in the waiting room with Marco. His blood still stained your hands even though you had tried to wash it off, Marco’s hands being in the same state. Staring off into space, Marco finally broke the uncomfortable silence.

“I’m gonna talk to my parents to see if Jean can live with me. He can't go back home, especially in his state”, he gritted through his teeth, his hands balling up into a fist. He cursed at Jean’s parents in his head.

“Right…” you slowly said in response to him.

You wanted to know what Jean told Marco in his last text message so you asked him for his phone. Handing his phone over, you read through it, Jean telling him how he was the best friend he could never ask for and asking for him to take care of you after he was gone. Your eyes became watery again, realizing that he had a whole plan laid out after he was gone. Handing the phone back to Marco not being able to read the texts anymore, the doctor came into the waiting room, causing you two to stand up and rush to him.

“Is Jean okay??” you and Marco asked him at the same time.

“Mr. Kirschtein will be fine though he lost a lot of blood. He needed a blood transfusion but he is out of danger. You’ll be able to see him soon.”

“Oh thank God” you replied, your hand clutching your chest as more tears fell from your eyes and leaned into Marco.

“Do you know his parents contact information?” the doctor asked. “We went to check his records but he didn’t have any”.

“We’re his family” you said, disregarding that he still had living parents. If they didn’t care for him when he was alive, they wouldn’t care if he was dead. “We take care of him”.

“I see,” he replied. “In that case, I’ll notify you when you can see him, he’s still asleep from surgery.”

You nodded in response before turning over to hug Marco tight as a sob escaped your lips once more. He cried too.

Some time had passed before the doctor notified you that Jean was awake.Heading over, you walked into the room slowly as your eyes widened to see Jean on the bed, your breathing slightly unsteady. His face was facing the window, his arm bandaged up heavy before turning over to you two. The doctor gave you three privacy as you walked over to Jean’s side.

“Hi baby… how you feeling” you softly said, brushing his short light brown locks away from his face.

He opened his eyes and blinked slowly as he sighed at your touch, giving you a soft smile. “Tired”, he said in a whisper. He took notice that Marco was standing next to you. “Hey”, Jean said to him.

“Hey.. you gave us a scare there man… we thought we lost you.”

He blinked in confusion as to what Marco was talking about before he slowly looked down at his arm and then back at you, realizing what he had done. He didn’t have a perfect memory of the events that happened but he remembered the pain that he felt in his chest and the photo he saw of you two. He took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry… I -”

“Don’t be sorry… you have to focus on getting better for yourself, for Marco, for us” you replied, holding his hand softly, fearing not wanting to hurt him.

His mind then remembered that he had to go home soon. His breathing slowly sped up, the monitors numbers changing ever so slightly.

“Hey hey what’s wrong, you’re heart rate is speeding up”, you said, eyeing the machine in concern before cupping his face.

“Home”, he said, his eyes becoming watery.

“You don’t have to worry about going back there ever. I already spoke to my parents about it and you’re coming to live with me. We’ll take care of your stuff and you too”, Marco said.

His heart rate became steady again before looking at Marco and then back at you, as if he couldn’t believe the words he was hearing. His face started becoming red as he let out a sob.

“Oh, Jean”, you replied, holding him close but conscious about his arm. You kissed his lips through the tears and then on his cheeks, tasting the salty tears on your lips. “It’s gonna be okay…”

And everything did turn out okay. Marco took care of Jean’s things back at the university and at his home, hearing harsh words from Jean’s parents but he didn’t care. Jean eventually got cleared to go home and being given a second chance at life with you and Marco at his side, maybe he could finally feel pure happiness once again.

Tagging: @humanitys-hottestsoldier @paopufruittt @mysteriousmagicx @angelanimedesaray @huntersbunker @final-fantasy-xv-nut

Masterlist

#jean x reader #jean kirstein #jean aot #jean snk #attack on titan #attack on titan fanfiction #shingeki no kyojin #angst #sfw #trigger warnings #marco aot #marco bodt #marco snk #jay writes #like #comment #reblog #college au

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irwinkitten · 5 years

Text

just tense | poly!kayshton

notes: shut up i was inspired by @maluminspace and then @sexgodashton put halloween stuff into my head and then my mind went zoomies and then this was born. idk if the next part to be honest to you is gonna be out this weekend so this is to kinda make up for it. sorry. i also know this isn’t everyones cup of tea and if it ain’t yours, then just blacklist the kayshton tag warnings: smut, talk of fear and anxiety word count: 2k

It had been on your list of places to visit ever since the three of you had arrived in London for some well deserved time off.

For once, it was refreshing to be tourists, especially with the amusement between you and Kaykay of Ashton trying to hide his identity as to not cause fans to come full throttle at the three whilst you were enjoying your time off.

Thankfully, the few fans that had spotted and recognised the three of you had listened to the pleas that you wanted to enjoy your trip without being bombarded and it seemed that the universe was on your side.

So it had been days filled with various activities.

You’d started off with the London Eye where Ashton had booked ahead and reserved one pod for the three of you. Kaykay had been snapping some photos and you’d been sat on the bench next to Ashton, your head leaning on his shoulder as you’d watched the world go by. It was like a bubble away from the real world. A bubble that Ashton started taking advantage of.

His fingers had worked up your thigh and you were about to warn him no, until Kaykay turned around, a smirk on her lips.

“Just think angel, the people that could potentially see what’s being done to you, see what a little slut you can be.” And you realised what they were doing as you finally parted your legs wider for Ashton to slide his fingers to your jeans button and help you wiggle them down enough for his hand to start working.

“Peach.” The whimper fell from your lips and she smirked as she leaned down in front of you, your eyes going from her lips to how the low top she was wearing gave you a good eyeful. She smirked.

“Is my angel getting worked up because of daddy?” Your head was still resting on Ashton’s shoulder, knowing that you wanted to keep it looking as relaxed as possible, knowing that there were people in the other pods.

“Peachy, please.” You whimpered out, fingers gripping the wooden bench beneath you.

“How’s she feeling daddy?” Kaykay barely breathed to Ash and he let out the most sinful noise that had your thighs tensing.

“She’d been dripping for us Peachy. I bet the little slut wants her daddy to fuck her against the window, give the audience a show.” They knew they had you the way your eyes fluttered shut, the softer moans escaping.

“What do you want me to do baby? Want me to finger fuck you like daddy, or touch that pretty little clit?” As she spoke, she straddled herself across your lap, leaving Ash enough room to keep moving his fingers and you could feel the edge coming closer.

“Clit, please Peach. M’so close for you both.” The soft whimper was enough for her to bring her fingers to your clit, and you were struggling to keep your eyes open, but they hadn’t ordered you to keep them open.

“Daddy, please, please I’m close.” Your head twisted, mouth muffled by his jacket and he tutted.

“Show your face little one. You can keep your eyes closed this once.” You did as you were told, your thighs trembling as you came, both of them working you through it before Ashton pulled his fingers free, licking them clean. You felt Kaykay’s fingers dip below the fold and then bring them to her own lips and you let out a soft moan as they helped you shift your jeans back up before she finally kissed you.

“Such a good girl for us.” She murmured.

The rest of the ride was spent like that, trading kisses with the two of them, both of them keeping you grounded enough. When the three of you stepped off, their smug smirks and your flaming red cheeks were the only indications of anything amiss, but people didn’t pay any attention and you felt yourself breathe a sigh of relief.

“We definitely need to do that again.” Kaykay’s grin was matched by Ashton’s and you could only groan at the ridiculousness, pressing a kiss to both of their lips before heading towards the tour bus stop.

It was interesting to sit atop the open top double decker, watching as various buildings went past, the tour guide rattling off various facts and films that had been recorded too. You’d taken photos outside of the Palace and got a nice shot of the three of you sat by the fountains in Trafalgar Square before grabbing some food.

“So we need to make a decision. London Dungeons or Madame Tussauds.” Ashton’s eyes lifted from the pamphlet he was reading, eyes searching yours and Kaykay’s faces.

“How about we do Madame Tussauds tomorrow? That way we can not worry about any time issues. I know the Dungeon tour is about an hour and a half.” You voiced and Kaykay agreed. But Ashton kept his eyes on you.

“You gonna be alright with it?” You nodded your head.

“I’ll be fine. I’m with both of you.” He didn’t press further and when you reached your destination, your fingers wound them through Kaykay’s almost immediately.

“Scaredy cat.” She teased playfully, her eyes full of mirth as Ashton purchased your tickets and you found yourself waiting with the next group of people to go in.

Part of you wondered why you’d agreed to do this, trying to calm your heart rate when an actor stepped forward, the macabre makeup giving your gut the sinking feeling.

At that point as you stepped into the first room, your other hand clamped around Ashton’s, ignoring his look of amusement that he shared with Kaykay, hsi fingers tightening in a reassuring manner.

You were fascinated by the history that they went through, your mind managing to push away the fear in favour of the knowledge until you got to the second part, your heart rate rising as you had to let go of one of their hands, torn between the decision. Kaykay made the choice for you, her fingers slipping from yours as she took the seat behind you and you tried your hardest not to shrink into Ashton’s side.

The ride was fun, exhilarating and damp. Mercifully you weren't soaked through but still somewhat annoyed and Ashton laughed as he moved a piece of hair from your face.

“Still one of the prettiest girls I’m dating, little one.” He hummed and you could feel your cheeks growing warmer as he pressed a gentle kiss to your temple.

The following three rooms weren’t as terrifying, although you could feel your body tense a few times. You were able to overlook the fear as you learned the history of London, jumping when Kaykay placed her hand on your back in reassurance.

She shot you a silent look of apology as Ashton held back the snickers and you elbowed his side, placing a kiss to her cheek moments later.

“It’s fine. I’m just tense.” You murmured and she hid her snort.

You couldn’t help but cringe at the torture chamber, trying not to hide too much behind Ashton. You’d already seen how the actors picked up on who was scared, singling them out and you weren’t keen on that at all.

You found yourself relaxing with the next few rooms after that, feeling less clammy and you recognised you weren’t shaking either. But then it came to the Sweeney Todd part and you could feel your whole body tense up.

You tried to ignore how your heart started getting faster, the reassuring touches from both Ashton and Kaykay doing little for your nerves as you jumped violently at one of the loud noises. You were just relieved that you hadn’t screamed like someone else within your group.

It was when you reached the Jack the Ripper exhibit and you could feel your muscles ache from how tense you were.

When it got to the labyrinth, despite knowing that they were both with you, you couldn’t ease the anxiety that had overcome you, trying to keep as close as possible as the group moved, the screams sounding so very real in your ears and the lights flickering making you feel nauseous.

Once you reached the pub, the barmaid telling tales of Jack the Ripper, the details of the cases, you felt yourself relax until the lights went out and then something moved in front of you, your fear winning over your reflexes and a small scream escaped as you backed up, fighting the tears as you felt Ashton’s arms wrap around you.

“You’re safe little one, I promise.” You were fighting the urge to sob into his arms, taking in deep shaky breaths. You hadn’t been the only one to scream, but you still felt the embarrassment flood through you.

When you reached the next part, Ashton paused in front of you, his fingers cradling your face as he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. You took in a deep breath, the soft squeeze from Kaykay reminding you that you were safe and were free to get out of this at any time.

But you continued.

The next few had you relaxing but when you reached the final ride, your nerves were taught and you weren’t sure if you were going to handle it. But you pushed on through, unable to let go of either Ashton’s or Kaykay’s hands as you got spots for the ride.

And then it dropped and this time the scream was a mixture of exhilaration and fear, the sound of a neck snapping going right through you. Your eyes immediately turned to either side of you, making sure they were okay, your heart in your chest when you got off the ride. At this point your body was trembling and you could feel aches build up from where you’d been so tense.

When you reached the tavern where food and drinks were being served, Ashton was quick to pull you both to a quiet corner and he could see your body was still trembling.

“Sweetheart, do you want some food or shall we head out?” His voice was soft, his finger tucking under your chin so that your gaze would meet his. He could see the faraway look in your eyes and realised that perhaps this was a bit too much.

“Can we go? Just want cuddles.” You finally whispered, a tear escaping the corner of your eyes and Ashton smiled softly as Kaykay caught the tear with a finger.

It was easy to get back to the hotel you were staying in. You were silent for most of the trip, admitting that you’d enjoyed the tour but you weren’t keen to go back again when asked by Kaykay.

They didn’t press you to talk, your head resting on Kaykay’s shoulder, her hand smoothing your hair gently whilst your hand was in Ashton’s lap, his thumb rubbing circles into the skin on your hand. You felt safe.

It was once in the hotel room, the original plan they’d clearly had, being discarded as you settled into softer pyjamas, allowing yourself to be squished between both of them as Ashton ordered room service, the three of you eating pizza and watching films as your eyes grew heavier.

You didn’t fight sleep, your body curling into Ashton’s. Their grips around you never faltered as they snuggled down with you, soft kisses being pressed to your skin before the lights were switched off, only one being left on knowing that the last thing they needed was you to wake up in the dark after the tour.

It was a warm settled feeling that filled you as you felt their bodies press closer before you stop fighting the exhaustion and passed out, nestled between your two favourite people.

@sexgodashton, @dammitbands, @calumsmermaid, @empathycth, @gorgeouslygrace, @calpops, @rosecolouredash, @cal-puddies, @clockwork124, @valentinelrh, @stellar5sosrecs, @ashtoniwir, @cthla, @liketheydidwithyou, @scxttishpotath0e, @bluehairedtracii,

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myhockeyworld87 · 5 years

Text

Nervous Regrets - Part 3

Requested: No

Word Count: 1719

Warning: Cursing, A lot of cursing. Don’t read if you can’t handle the F-Bomb..lol

Song Inspiration: Always by Gavin James

POV: Tyler

Notes: I wasn’t sure about writing more but like the way this turned out. Working on Part 4 already.

You thought your heart had splintered into a thousand pieces the day she left; until this moment you didn’t think it could break anymore. That was until that one single tear slid down her cheek, and your heart shattered even more. She shed millions that night she closed the door on you; truth be told so had you. But right now, that single tear was your undoing. Maybe you shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t have come up to her. You should’ve let her move on with her life; but you were a selfish bastard, needing her back. Without conscience thought your arm moved, your thumb brushing it away; hoping to wipe away all the sins of your past with it.

You thought the contact would make her run; instead she just stared at you; eyes bright with unshed tears. It would be so easy to just move your hand, cup her cheek and bring her lips to yours; but it wouldn’t solve any of your problems. Words formed in your brain but none of them made sense; they wouldn’t make her understand the nightmare you were living. A nightmare that you’d made.

Time stood still, you weren’t sure if minutes or hours passed as the two of you looked into each other eyes; hers searching for answers, while yours asked for forgiveness. Someone walked by, glancing your way; the small movement breaking the spell that had captured you both. If you didn’t say something now, you’d miss your opportunity; never knowing when or if you’d see her again. Muscles in your jaw ticked as you tried to formulate the words; only two simple ones able to slip free. “I’m sorry.”

She halted any others that would follow, with her own. “Not here, not now.”

“When?” it was all you could ask. Blood rushed to your ears, the sound coming from your heart finally beating again in your chest. She wasn’t forgiving you by any means; you weren’t fooling yourself into believing she was. But this, this gave you hope; that there was still a molecule of a chance to get her back into your life.

“I…this…I need to…” you knew what she was trying to say. That she’d come here with someone else; someone more worthy of her love than you were. You weren’t going to let that deter you. You had known her love, felt it, flourished in it; were determined to win it back. That some upper-class big shot wanted to take it from you, made you boil with anger. Thoughts of him touching her, caressing her, making love to her; made your skin crawl. But you wouldn’t think about that now. You needed to focus, remind the woman standing only inches away from you that your love was worth fighting for.

“I know,” you finally breathed out.

“Give me an hour. I’ll meet you at our usual place.” With that she turned, walking back into the ballroom. You stood there, hand still in midair from where you were just touching her cheek; willing your racing heart to a normal pace. Hands falling to your side you watched her go; until she was out of your line of vision. Only then did you move, leaving the foyer heading straight to the valet.

You jumped in the vehicle as it pulled along the curb; the destination your sole focus at the moment. It was a simple place; one you had been to with (Y/N) a thousand times, yet it held so many memories. You had taken her there the day after you met her, when she’d woken up in your arms. There had been five of you that time, and vaguely you wondered if you should make a pit stop and bring the pups with you. No, this wasn’t the time for that. The car rounded the corner and there it was; a small park on the edge of your neighborhood.

Removing your tie, you strode over the bench under the tree where you had carved your initials. Corny didn’t begin to describe the moment, but it was fitting. You had made your declaration of love to her that day; wanting something to commemorate it. Running your hand across the indentation now it seemed tainted; tainted by that vile act you’d chosen over her. Tonight, you’d make amends.

It wouldn’t be long now, the time on your watch telling you so. Headlights shown in the small lot across from you; she was early. Inhaling sharply, you took a deep breath of the cool crisp air to gather your courage. Her figure appeared, still wearing the damn dress that made her look like a goddess and left nothing to the imagination. Hands down she was the most gorgeous woman you’d ever seen. So why you let a fake pair of tits and colored contacts sway you away from her; you’d never know.

Standing there, hands in your pockets, so you wouldn’t reach for her; she was finally by your side. “You look beautiful.” While the words were true, they also helped fill the void. She crossed her arms over her chest, protecting herself from what was to come, accentuating the fullness of her breasts at the same time. Hands running through your hair, you tried to calm your nerves.

“Maybe this was a bad idea.” It was barely a whisper but you heard it all the same. You’d stalled enough, if you didn’t say anything now, she would leave. It would be over then, no coming back, no second chance.

“You have to know how sorry I am (Y/N). She meant nothing.” You knew it wouldn’t be enough, but at least it was a start.

“Then why? How long was it going on? Did we mean nothing?” All this while she paced back and forth.

“It was only once, I swear.” It was the easiest question to answer first. “I don’t really know why.” It was both truth and lie. “It’s complicated.”

“Well then explain it to me Tyler!” she spat back at you. “I’m smart; I’m sure I can figure it out.”

“Okay, Fuck! Where do I start.” Her foot tapped with her impatience. “It wasn’t anything I had planned. You were gone. I was lonely. And before you say anything that’s not my excuse. It’s just….” Another deep breath and you continued. “I started having doubts, not about us, it was never about us. God, don’t you know I fucking love you.”

“Yeah you fucking loved me so much you let some whore suck your cock. That’s not love Tyler, if that’s your idea of it, I don’t know what the fuck we were.”

“Jesus, let me finish will you.” You knew this wouldn’t be easy, but that she was questioning whether or not you ever loved her, fuck that never crossed your mind. “I doubted myself, ok. I doubted whether I could be a good boyfriend, a good husband, a good father; all the things I wanted to give you; I just didn’t know if I could. And what did I do, I fucking proved myself right. I know I’m not good enough for you; but damn it, I want to be. I can’t change what happened. You have to know, if I could I would. I just…..” you trailed off; the unspoken words of wanting another chance hanging in the air between you.

She wasn’t having any of it at the moment. “Why did she say, you were her boyfriend?” the last part spoken on a sob.

“I was never; I mean never, her boyfriend. It was one fucking night! God, only an hour at most.”

“Don’t, try to minimalize it.”

“I wasn’t!” you practically screamed it at her, trying to get your point across. Her head whipped up to your face; daring you to use that tone with her again. “I’m sorry.” It was only the second time you’d said it tonight; she needed to hear it a hundred more. “Look, she texted me saying she’d go public with the other photos if I denied she was. You know my contract was coming up. I didn’t want to screw that up. I thought I could explain, make you understand; that she meant nothing, absolutely nothing to me. But you gotta know, the minute you walked out that door nothing else matter. I tried to fix it, I untagged myself, posted pictures of us; anything I could fucking think of. I needed everyone to know it wasn’t her, that it was you; only you. It’s only ever going to be you.”

You could see her thinking, weighing the words you just said. Hand shaking you reached out and touched her arm, willing her to believe you. She didn’t flinch away from you. Taking that as a good sign you pushed forward. “I love you (Y/N). I’m never going to love anyone else. I know I fucked up, more than fucked up. But if you just give me a chance, I’ll never fuck up again.”

There were tears streaming down her cheeks now, every single one of them ripping you into tiny shreds. “How can you be so sure?” It was barely a whisper, her head looking down; not able to look you in the eye.

“Look at me, (Y/N).” Arms spread wide; you were challenging her to see what had become of you. “I’m broken without you. I can’t sleep. Every time I close my eyes, I see your face when you left me. It tears me apart.” It was an admission you didn’t want to make, but one that you needed to say. “I can’t even play anymore. I’m just going through the damn motions; and I don’t fucking care. Screw hockey!”

“Don’t say that Ty.”

“Why it’s the truth. I’d give it all up, right now. Just say the word.” It was as honest a statement as anything you’d said all night. You’d give it all up, your career, hockey, anything she wanted if she’d just come back.

“You can’t put that on me. That’s not fair. I know how much you love hockey.”

“But I love you more.” And there it was, the crux of it. If you’d only trusted in that love that night three months ago; you wouldn’t be here now; begging for her forgiveness, for her to take you back.

#nhl imagines #nhl imagine #nhl fanfic #tyler seguin #tyler seguin imagine #tyler seguin imagines #dallas stars #dallas stars imagine #dallas stars imagines #fanfic #hockey imagines #hockey imagine #hockey fanfiction

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liloelsagranger · 5 years

Text

Viridian Love Story - Chapter 4: You’re my only fear, my only desire (Rocketshipping)

My dear friends, chapter four is online! Enjoy! Rocketshipping ahead.

@ndbern-rocketmonsters @ndbernarts @jessicarocket @estrelarabyss @prepareforetrouble @masterstarpikachu @tothestarsabove @teamrocketfanart @thelovelyjessie @webelieveinlovepower @chaosandhope @james-team-rocket @danadiversity @krazy-holly @keksrocket @harmonyrocketeeveon @pok3ship @yesjanii @thecomputergirl @elysiiandream @fugly-chan @batfamfan1 @ghostkitty @pikamofo @eclipsing-dreams @abatwc @emily1037 @texansman20 @inuyashaeienni @zayphantomslayer Chapter 4: You’re my only fear, my only desire

Jessie decided to condone their small contretemps and recharge her batteries. Fully loaded with boxes, she balanced the crates into the big hall where James and Meowth were already waiting for her. James hastened to her aid, placing the boxes on the floor. “What a color explosion! Nothing fits! Gold, turquoise, rosé…are you planning on a complete disaster?!” the Pokémon-cat wrinkled his nose. Jessie shooed him away with a wave of her hand. “Amateurs! These colors are perfectly coordinated with each other!” She reached for a cheesy garland with glittering pom-poms. “Are you just gonna watch me do this or what?” Jessie flashed her eyes at James, challenging him. He swallowed hard and set to work. Their teammate had already worked out a perfect decoration plan. Like a general, she rushed James and Meowth back and forth, gave them instructions and rebuked their mishaps. She was completely in her element and revenge is generally known to be sweet.

Together they decorated the whole hall with tinsel and balloons and set up the photo booth to provide a lot of fun and distraction. Now and then, Jessie and James would unintentionally come closer. He secured the ladder while Jessie hung streamers on the chandeliers; they reorganized the seating areas, her hand almost imperceptibly grazing his arm, and they checked the loudspeakers to offer an unforgettable musical treat for the ears. “Does it work?” Jessie stood next to her friend, monitoring his technical skills closely. He smiled at her, pressing the play-button. Soft tones of a long forgotten melody reached her ears. Jessie bobbed to the music, secretly shedding a tear of longing. It was their song, vivid and brimming with energy. A mixture of foxtrot and sad blues notes. “Would you like to dance, Jess?” James took her hand, leading her to the middle of the hall. ‘It means nothing. He’s just polite and wants to swing his dancing leg. Don’t flatter yourself, girl!’ Nonetheless, she followed him, wrapping her arms around his neck. After so many years, they were still a well-rehearsed dancing couple. One moment, James would whirl her around, the next he would pull her very close. She snuggled up to his chest, inhaling the herbal scent of his perfume. Secret fantasies ventured back to the surface, but Jessie had to get those thoughts off her mind. She swallowed the bitter disappointment like a pro. “I think we should prepare the punch,” Jessie broke away from his embrace, disappearing into the school canteen to fetch fruits and juice. “Nice try,” Meowth jumped onto the table, placing a paw on James’ shoulder. “You’ll never get her that way! Let’s be honest, it takes more than a little dance to confess your secret feelings,” he said, clearly noticing the chagrin in James’ eyes. ‘Softy!’ the Team Rocket member rebuked himself, ‘you’ll never win her heart back!’, but he had to keep trying, tiny steps by tiniest steps, to show her how much she meant to him. Jessie turned back with boxes full of exotic fruits like pineapples, mangos, dragonfruits, kiwis and papayas. The trio sliced the fruits into small bites, carefully mixing the ingredients by adding juice, cane sugar and a dash of honey. James poured a sip into their shot glass, tasting the sweet drink Jessie had created. “Delicious, Jess! You outdid yourself with that recipe!” he winked at his best friend, causing her to blush. To underline his esteem, he licked his lips and gave himself another glass. After mopping the floor and cleaning up the rest of the decoration, the trio decided it was time for a reward. From Team Rocket they had received the necessary small change for a hilarious evening among friends. “I need a few minutes to change. How about a visit to the all you can eat buffet in the city centre? I’m starving,” Jessie scurried off, leaving Meowth and a lovelorn James back in the hall. James rebuked himself once more for his cautious and reserved behavior, but his scars were still burning underneath his uniform and the fear of loss of control and subservience seethed like fire in his body. Could he get involved in a romance? Could a leopard change his spots? He wanted her so much, he longed for her nearness, but the horror was deep and with it the fear of another firm relationship and true feelings.

Half an hour later, James and Meowth were waiting for Jessie to leave her dorm. She was dressed in a light blue shirt with matching shorts. “Let’s go,” she and James linked arms and the trio set off to fill their bellies.

The restaurant was crowded and booked up to the last seat, but the waitress put Jessie, James and Meowth at a tiny free table. They squeezed themselves onto the chairs and took a look at the menu. “35 Poké-Dollars per person! Ridiculous! I hope their food is good, let’s dig in”, Jessie jumped up, almost wiping their sodas off the table and lined up at the buffet. As always, Team Rocket exaggerated. They piled up chicken wings and saithe on their plates, indulged in juicy roasts and a lavish selection of delicious cakes. One bottle of wine after another was uncorked, until they showed first signs of light drunkenness. All night, James couldn’t take his eyes off Jessie. Her laughter excited him. He would have preferred to bend over the table, cup her face and kiss her fervently, but instead he squatted there like a coward, smiling at her like an idiot.

“Watch out, Jess”, it was late at night, when the duo made their way back to the campus. Jessie kept stumbling over the paving stones, James, himself extremely drunk, had trouble supporting her. They laughed and bawled lightheartedly. Meowth had already said goodbye, only Jessie and James were left. “I hope our plan doesn’t go down the drain. This is our last chance to prove Giovanni our criminal talent,” Jessie voiced concerns. “Why does such a beautiful young lady think such gloomy thoughts?” James turned to her, stroking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Stop it, James. We both know you’re not being serious. You drank way too much,” Jessie broke away from his firm grip. “You’re right, I did. Let me accompany you to your room, okay?” she nodded her head, lacing her fingers with his. A tiredness overpowered her, but there was another feeling she could not classify. “Good night, Jessie. Take care,” James held her door open. “If you need anything, you know where to find me. Tomorrow will be an exhausting day. We still need to instruct the grunts,” he stopped in the door for a moment. He could gather up the courage to walk up to her and kiss her tenderly, but it was impossible, he was held back by the past. “Good night,” she whispered, closed the door and sighed unmistakably.

James made his way to his own bedroom and regretted any opportunity he hadn’t used for a kiss. He clenched his hands to fists. “That’s enough, you scaredy-cat! Pull yourself together,” he had made a decision.

Determined to put his cards on the table, he ran back to Jessie’s bedroom, wildly pounding at the door. “Jess! Jess!” She opened the door a crack wide. “James, what a…” Jessie didn’t have time to finish her sentence. Before she could withdraw, his arms were around her. Jessie felt helpless and completely taken by surprise at first. James looked at her, his gaze full of longing. His breath went fast, he was aroused and eventually ready to take the next step. Without warning, he pressed his lips on hers. They merged into a tender kiss. She could feel his hands around her waist, the firm grip as he gently pushed her against the door. James was insistent, his hands wandering underneath her shirt. Flimsy touches made her groan with pleasure, evoking from her unknown sensations. She ran her fingers through his hair, cupping his face while putting all her pent-up feelings into the next kiss. They kissed each other with passion, over and over again, as if they had to make up for every missed opportunity in the past. James stopped for a moment, his face was so close to her, she could feel the first happy wave of exhaustion. “What are you doing, James?” Completely out of breath, but still in her senses, she wanted to confront him. It felt too good to be true. Would appearance deceive again? “I think,” he took a deep breath, “I think, I’m falling in love with you, Jess.” “Blame it on the alcohol,” she said, but James shook his head. “No, Jessie, not this time...” that was the decisive sentence. Something she had wanted to hear for so long. James cupped her face, both smiling and unburdened. “Jessie,” he whispered into her ear, “I’m sorry it took me so long. Let me make it up to you, darling,” he carried Jessie to her bed. Slowly and carefully, he dropped her back. Her head lay on the pillows and for the first time in his life, James experienced the desire to love a woman with all his heart. She was so beautiful, her lips red like roses, her eyes of shiny sapphire. How had he overlooked this for years? Her beauty was not of this world. Her skin as bright as porcelain, all his poetic acquirement intertwined in thoughts of his best friend, his muse and faithful companion. Slowly and very gently, he tilted his head, kissed her and thus sealed the silent agreement of tender ties. To be continued...

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connorissoftboi · 5 years

Text

Peppermint Smiles. (Connor x Reader)

You'd known Connor for two years, first meeting him at a crime scene before his deviation. Connor and yourself had pretty much clicked straight away, despite Hanks protest that were fueled by the fact that you were Gavin's sister. It did nothing to stop the friendship that you had formed with the android detective, in fact it made you continue with it. Seeing Hank pissed, yet conflicted because Connor was more 'Human' around you.

Eventually Connor would stay over at your apartment on your days off, not wanting you to feel alone at home. It became a regular occurrence, on Saturday morning's you'd wake up to a gorgeous plate of breakfast and a nice hot cup of whatever he'd make on the day. He'd wash the dishes, ignoring your protests, then you'd both get dressed and go do something. Even if it was just shopping.

You both had matching polaroids of the pair of you, Connor had his on his desk along side a photo of him, Hank and Sumo. You kept yours in your wallet, with a photo of Gavin and you as kids next to it.

Though things started changing when a new detective started working at the precinct. Hannah Bornatello, she was tall, slim and confident. She was also your new partner while she adjusted to the new environment. She was blonde, bright and bubbly with cerulean eyes that were matched by no other. Pretty much your opposite if you were honest. Eventually you both ended up working with Connor and unfortunately they hit it off spectacularly, it got to the point where Connor spoke about her nearly everyday.

"She's amazing (Y/n), you know she smells like bubblegum and peach! I think it's my favourite now." You nodded along absently, picking at your croissant with disinterest.

"That's great Connor, hey are you coming over this weekend? I have blankets and movies, we haven't had a weekend together in a month." You gave him a smile, but it didn't reach your eyes.

"Oh, uh, sure! I guess that's cool." He gave you a smile and pulled you into a tight hug, it was surprising surprisingly warm. You hugged him back with just as much vigour, wishing it could last longer.

"Connor? There you are! Can we talk later please?" Hannah was stood in the doorway of the break room, a sweet peppermint smile on her face. Connor agreed immediately, his face lighting up at the sight of hers.

"I'll never win..." You muttered under your breath, Connor gave you a confused look, but you shook your head and left to get back to work.

Friday night rolled around and Connor was MIA, you'd texted him but to no response. He'd bailed, so you called the next best person. Your brother.

"(Y/n)? You okay, what's wrong? Did something happen, do you have your gu-" You let out a small, snot stuffed giggle. He'd always been protective.

"Can you come over? I've had a rough night and I need someone to talk to." You heard Gavin yell out at someone, some rustling and the jingle of keys.

"I'll be over in twenty, ice cream, your favourite chocolate and tissues. Love you Mini." You cringed at the childhood nickname, but were thankful nonetheless.

"Thanks Gavin, you're the best."

"I know, see you soon." He'd just hung up five minutes before when a knock sounded at the door. That was quick.

"Hey Gav-"

"I'm sorry." Before you stood the one android who had your whole heart. Connor, with a bouquet of tulips. A flower of apology. His hair was a mess, chocolate eyes filled with guilt and sorrow.

"For?" You were a mess it was obvious you'd been crying, your face red and splotched from the harsh tears.

"For being late, for being distant, for everything. Can we talk inside?" You stepped away from the door, trekking back to the couch you'd been sat in for the past three hours. You both sat down, gesturing to Connor to continue.

"I'm sorry, but Hannah-"

"She's lovely Connor! You don't need to rub it in, she's perfect for you and I'm-"

"SHE'S ENGAGED." You stopped and stared at Connor, mouth agape. "(Y/n), she's engaged. She told me after you left on Wednesday, she then explained to me that I am an idiot and I completely agree." You patted his shoulder supportively.

"You're not an idiot Connor, you didn't know about her partner and-"

"It's not about that... She told me that I have someone perfect and I completely agree. I got caught up in her because she was different, but I realise not everything has to be so complicated. I need comfort, love and safety. That's you. It's always been you, but I have been too stupid to actually look." You were in shock, he wanted you back. He wanted you.

"You are an idiot." You pulled him into a kiss, gentle and loving. Everything you'd hoped it would be.

"Your idiot by the way." Connor smiled down at you, his forehead pressed to yours, your breaths mixing, despite him not needing to breathe.

"Shut up." He pulled you in again after you spoke, this time kissing with more passion and intent behind it. Slowly you ended up under him, he'd gently pushed you down. He pulled away and gazed deep into your eyes, sincerity oozing from him.

"I love you (Y/n)." You beamed up at him.

"I love you too Connor." He let out a relieved laugh and kissed you again, rubbing circles into your hip.

"I could get used to this." He spoke into your neck as he trailed. Kissed along it. You hummed back in response, running your fingers through his brown locks.

"(Y/N)! I BROUGHT ICE- WHAT THE FUCK!?" You glanced over Connor's shoulder to see Gavin, bags of shopping in hand.

"Hey." You gave him a wave from your compromising position, he looked like he'd just seen a ghost.

"I-I'm gonna put this in the freezer. We'll talk...later. Don't you hurt her Connor." Gavin left after a minute of him awkwardly putting away the groceries and threatening to beat Connor up.

Connor smirked at you mischievously. "I can't promise him that you won't hurt afterwards." With that he scooped you up and trotted off to your room to continue what you'd started.

_______________________________________________________

HELLO I'M BACK!

Requests are open!

RPS are open

If you want a part 2 let me know ~

-Writer-chan

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imaginary-portal · 5 years

Text

Dance With Me

Peter Parker x Reader

Masterlist

Enjoy :)

————

You sigh as you do your finishing touches on your makeup. You feel like you’ve over done it, but whatever. It’s not like you’re going to win over your crush tonight. You stand up from your vanity and look into your full length mirror on the door. You did look stunning. You didn’t feel like yourself, but that is a different matter. Tonight is the big homecoming dance. You took a couple selfies and then grabbed your purse and went downstairs. Your parents were so excited to see you all dressed up. They took pictures of you on the staircase and then you ate a small dinner. You heard a car honk outside your house, and that was your cue to leave. You said goodbye to your parents and your mom said “stay safe honey, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” You ignored her little comment. As if any child listens to their parent when they are told that.

You hop in your friend’s car and she drives you to the dance. You both compliment each other’s outfits, hair, makeup, and her date. They decided to meet up at the dance, so that way you could get a little girl time with her. You obviously can’t third wheel, so it looks like you’re on your own for the night. When you were in the school parking lot, you realized your time left with her was scarce. And when you saw her date arrive, you felt a little jealous that he would be escorting her away. You gave her a hug, and stood outside the school and watched her walk in. You wanted to get a last moment of fresh air before you were stuck inside the poorly ventilated school with a bunch of other people. You took a deep breath and closed your eyes. You thought about him for a moment, but shook your head out of it. No. It’s just a teenage girl fantasy. He is way out of your league. Forget it.

You walked into the dance and was surprised at how nice the decorations actually looked. Whoever did them obviously put a lot of time into them. The music was loud and people were already dancing. Good. You missed the awkward part where everyone just stands in the middle and looks around. You stood on the outskirts for a while, either scrolling through your phone, or thinking of him. He was just so perfect for you, yet you were just too shy. He was your biology partner once, that was cool. But you were too nervous to ever start conversation. He once complimented the photo colleges you made on your notebook, and you just thanked him quietly. You could’ve taken that as an opportunity to actually talk with him. The only other time you talked was one day in the library. It was mostly him talking because you were too nervous to mess anything up. You constantly make eye contact with him, so that makes it all the more obvious. And your locker is close to his, so you always see him talking with Ned during passing time.

You were lost in thought when you felt a person stand next to you. You look up and see him. Peter. He smiles “Hi Y/N, enjoying your night?” You smile and lie through your teeth. “Yeah, it’s going good, how about you?” He shrugs. “Eh, I could be having a better time, but I-uh...” he pauses for a moment. You take in his appearance, very spiffy and attractive. “I would be having a better time if I had someone to dance with.” Your mouth made an o shape. “Here, do you want some punch? I’ll be right back.” His voice squeaked, and he didn’t give you any time to answer. Peter shortly returned with two cups of punch. You thanked him and took a baby sip. “So you don’t have a date tonight?” He asks. You shake your head. “Nah, you?” He says nah as well. You take another sip of your punch. “I’ve noticed, Y/N, you’re a little shy. Why is that?” You almost laughed. Why do people ask that? You shrug. “I just am. It has nothing to do with anyone, really.” Peter nods and the song changes to an upbeat one. Peter puts his cup down and reaches his hand out towards you. “Dance with me.” You grab a hold of his hand. “Okay.” Peter leads you out to the dance floor.

You have a fun time dancing. Sure, your moves weren’t smooth or at all in sync with the beat, but neither were Peter’s, nor anyone else’s on the dance floor. You easily lost track of time and had a lot of laughs. When the song finally changed to a slow one, you didn’t know what to do. You turn around and start to leave the dance floor when Peter says “Y/N, wait. Where are you going? You don’t want to keep dancing?” You turn around. Peter reaches his arm out to you. “May I have this dance?” You grab a hold of his hand. “Yes. You may.” Peter pulls you closer and you wrap your arms around his neck. He places his hands on your hips. The two of you swayed around, you let him take the lead because you’ve never slow danced before. You were so close to him in this moment. You could hear him breathing, smell his cologne, and see the glimmer in his brown eyes that made you weak. He looked so gorgeous tonight, and he has given you such a good time. “Y/N, if you want you can rest your head on my shoulder.” You say okay and put your head down. Now it was like you two were hugging. You could now feel his breathing, his cologne was rubbing off on you. The moment could never be more perfect. “Y/N, can I tell you something?” You felt his breathing get faster. “Sure.” Your heart rate increased as well.

Then, out of the blue, a girl walks up to you and Peter. “Well, well well.” It was one of those popular girls with a nasally voice. You picked your head up from Peter’s shoulder to look at her. “Look at that. Peter and the shy girl. Wonder how much she paid you to get this.” She patted Peter on the arm and the entire crowd surrounding you laughed. You felt a surge of emotions take over, and you found yourself running out of the room. You ran in the hall to the bathroom, where you sat in the corner and cried. You only cried for a few minutes, as you waited for the embarrassment to wash over. You wiped the tears off your cheeks. This is so high school. You knew that Peter was out of your league, and now you know that everyone knew that too. “Warning to any girls, I’m coming in. Y/N, are you in here?” You heard Peter turn the corner and he found you. “Y/N,” he crouched down on the ground. “Don’t listen to them, all right?” You nod and look down at your hands. “They have a point, though. There’s no way a guy like you could possibly see anything in me.” Peter sits criss cross on the floor and grabs your hands. “But I do, Y/N. That’s what I wanted to tell you. I have a crush on you, but I just didn’t know how to approach it because you are so shy. I see that you’re a kind person, who is artsy, smart, and a little shy. And beautiful.” He gently squeezed your hand. “And they don’t see that because they are self absorbed.” You lift your head up. “Do you really feel that way?” Peter gives you an award winning smile. “I do.” You smile back. “To be honest, I am crushing on you too.” Peter laughs. “I know you made it a little obvious.” You laugh. “I know I’m awful at hiding it.”

You both left the bathroom. Well you left first, made sure the coast was clear, and then let Peter out. “You want to get out of here? Go get some burgers or something?” You nodded. “Yeah. That sounds really good right now.” So you both left the school and walked to a nearby burger joint. You ordered your meals and the waitress commented on your elegant outfits. She came back shortly with burgers, fries, and shakes. The two of you just sat and ate and talked. You both shared your interests and hobbies, jokes, and even talked about your futures. “What do you want to do, Y/N?” You shrug. “I’m not sure yet. All I know is that I want to help people. How about you?” You pop a fry in your mouth. “Same here. I’ve done some volunteering in the neighborhood, helped old ladies cross the street, things like that. I want to make a big impact.”

After burgers, Peter offered to walk you home. “Oh, I live a little more than a walking distance from here, I can take the subway though, it will be fine.” Peter opened his mouth as if he were to say something, but he didn’t. You kept walking in the direction of the subway. “How about I come with you, make sure you’re safe.” You shook your head. “You don’t have to do that. I don’t want you to go out of your way and then have to go all the way back.” Peter grabbed your hand and held it as you walked in the street. “I want to come. You make good company.” So the two of you rode the subway together and then you walked back to your house. “Now how do I know that you will make it home safe?” Peter pulls out his phone. “Put in your number. I will text you when I get home.” You do as he asks and hands him back his phone. “Thank you for a great time tonight, I really appreciate it.” Peter steps closer to you. “Of course.” You both stand there awkwardly for a few seconds. “Y/N, can I kiss you?” You blush. “Yeah.” Peter leans in, cups one of your cheeks with a hand, and gives you a sweet and slow kiss on the lips. “Have a good night, Peter.” You walk up the steps to your front door. “Good night.” He waves to you.

Later that night you got a text from Peter saying “made it home safe, sleep well. -P” You giggled like a little girl when you saw the message. You slept with comfort knowing that you have Peter in your life now. You didn’t know this at the time, but, after he saw where you lived, he would check your house when he was making his rounds around the city as Spidey. He would peep in your window, not in a creepy way of course, just to make sure you were sleeping soundly. Peter felt an immediate protection over you, because he knew that if any of his enemies found out, you’d be in grave danger.

#tom holland imagine #tom holland #marvel imagine #crush imagine #imagine #imagines #mcu #spiderman #fanfic #fandom #peter parker #peter parker imagine

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olicitysecretsanta · 5 years

Text

Worth Fighting For

This fluffy semi-canon fic is for you Liz @trippin-over-my-fandoms by @tangled23works!

It’s been a pleasure to write this story even though I’m sure it’s not exactly what you had in mind. I promise, however, there is a method to my madness. Hope you’ll enjoy it! Merry Christmas!

Summary : Oliver has a devious plan in order to charm his wife after a stupid fight. Meanwhile, Felicity may have been blind to the obvious.

Rating : Teen and Up Audiences

Word count : 2217

***

The fight had started innocently enough. Oliver had made a rather self-deprecating comment which Felicity now couldn’t even remember and she had exploded like a bomb. A year’s worth of repressed emotions and negative thoughts had violently burst out of her like a swollen river. She had blamed him for things that he had honestly thought they had put behind them with all the drama that happened last year. She had accused him of having one foot out the door, always thinking of ways to leave her like her father. That comparison had hurt him more than anything else. In other words, she had had a major freakout. In her loud voice.

To top it all off, she had banished her poor husband out of the room. Oliver for his part had accepted her decision, looking stoic as always. His eyes, however, his beautiful, blue eyes that never failed to pull her in had given away his inner turmoil. In a calm and collected manner, he had obeyed her wishes and slept on the couch.

The morning after, Felicity had woken up on the verge of tears. The huge Christmas tree in the empty living room seemed to mock her. William was still in Cambridge and she missed him terribly.

Feeling desolate and alone, she had made a cup of coffee and had been considering the best way to apologize to Oliver when her phone beeped. Sighing, she unlocked the screen thinking that it would probably be her husband checking on her when she noticed that he had sent her not a message but an email with an attached photo. Intrigued, she downloaded the attachment while shaking her head at the fact that Oliver was incapable of using imessage or messenger or any other app more advanced that good ol’ regular gmail.

At first she couldn’t make sense of what she was seeing. Did Oliver send her spam?

The moment she turned the device sideways, however, she figured it out. The sneaky vigilante knew that she had a thing for his arms so he had sent her a picture of him flexing his biceps. She couldn’t see his face but she figured out that he was training at the Foundry 2.0, shirtless. It took a few minutes of daydreaming about her husband’s arms around her, caging her in, protecting her before she realized what the photo meant. Oliver was fighting for her, for them, in his own weird way.

Felicity sighed again - a much more satisfied sigh this time - and poured her awful coffee down the sink. The thing had tasted like dirt. Well, she had actually never eaten dirt on purpose but the coffee was dry and stale, hence the dirt analogy. She looked into the empty mug, worriedly. It was as if someone had drowned a cigarette in there. The thought upset her stomach so much that she made sure to stay out of the kitchen and as far away from coffee as possible for the rest of the morning.

At 2 pm, her phone beeped again. Felicity almost tripped in her haste to reach it. Feeling restless and on edge, she opened the attachment and moaned out loud. Her devious husband was shirtless and glistening with sweat on this one. Granted, all she could see was his glorious, scarred back and muscular shoulders but it was enough to make her flush all over. She bit her lip and felt the need to literally fan herself. If he was trying to woo her he was doing a damn good job of it. She ended up woolgathering for a ridiculous amount of time considering that she usually had the actual man in front of her and could stare to her heart’s content, before an unwelcome thought hit her. She furiously typed one simple question.

Who took this picture Oliver?

His reply came a few seconds later, though it felt like an eternity to her.

Dig. I promised that we would never EVER mention it to anyone.

Felicity giggled like a freaking schoolgirl at the thought of big, mean Spartan taking candid photos of the fearsome Green Arrow to help him win his wife over.

I also had to give him my precious Starling Rockets vs New York Yankees tickets.

Aww, you must really love me.

She added several heart emojis to the last message just to tease him. Oliver didn’t reply but she could picture him grumbling to Dig, complaining about her inability to share his love for the Rockets and baseball in general. Happy to miss the diatribe that would surely follow - her husband was surprisingly eloquent when it came to sports - Felicity focused on writing the algorithm for her new and improved security system. It had been a month since the last update and she had work to do.

She had created the system last year after the Lizard’s attack (she refused to call him the Dragon, it was a matter of principle) and she was proud of it. Apart from providing protection for her family, the system had made her famous among tech companies. Several of the biggest names in the tech world had hired her and decided to trust her technology in the months that followed. Including a certain Mr. Dennis, current CEO of PalmerTech, but Felicity had graciously declined that offer.

She was deeply engrossed in coding the next time the phone beeped. Felicity took a deep breath and refused to hurry, stretching instead to relieve the pressure from her sore back. Let Oliver worry for a few minutes. He wanted to break her resistance but she would not give in that easily. He had to work harder to change her mind. Although to be honest if he was naked in this one, she would definitely fold like a cheap deck of cards. But there was no way that her husband would risk sending a naked pic online. Not with all the Green Arrow media frenzy that followed his every move. Surely she had taught him better than that. Right? Right?

Okay, now she was officially freaking out.

Felicity grabbed the phone and considered it for a moment. This thing was a bigger threat to her sanity than evil doppelgangers from Earth X. It was more potent than any guilty pleasure she could ever dream of. More potent than molten lava chocolate cake, more compelling than Oliver’s authentic Italian tiramisu, more powerful than creamy raspberry cheesecake… Trying to focus, she stared at the damn device as if it was the enemy.

Felicity huffed in annoyance. She was being utterly ridiculous and it was all her husband’s fault. She proceeded to download the photo and reminded herself that she was made of stronger stuff. She would not cave no matter what.

“Oh my God!”

The good news was that Oliver was not naked. The bad news was that it was worse. Way worse. He was actually standing in front of the mirror, wearing his tuxedo (including the jacket and an unraveled bow tie) but he had left the shirt unbuttoned all the way down. The suspenders were hanging down making the whole outfit more sexy if that was possible. Adding insult to injury, he had taken a selfie. Not of his face. That would have been too kind. Of his gorgeous abs.

Felicity enlarged the photo, staring at it, slack-jawed. The sight of his out of this world eight-pack abs caused her toes to curl like they described in romance novels.

“That’s it. I’m gonna kill him this time.”

She heard the front door open before she could finish plotting her nefarious revenge schemes. She couldn’t hear a sound but she knew who it was. There was only one person in Star City who could be so stealthy, moving silently like a ninja.

Felicity turned towards him steeling her spine. As soon as she came face to face with the source of her frustration though she felt her resolution crumble. He looked good enough to eat. Pun intended.

“You’re still wearing your tux!” she accused in a high-pitched voice.

“I know.”

He took one tiny step forward.

“I’m still mad at you.”

“I know.”

Another step.

“Even if I’m not sure why.”

“I know.”

Another step.

“Oliver, I have no idea what’s going on with me. First, I get so mad that I want to throw stuff at you. Then, I get so horny I want to jump you as soon as you get home. And now, I feel…”

“What? Tell me, Felicity.”

He had almost reached her when he paused, waiting for her answer.

“I feel like crying. Which is unfair because I don’t know why I feel that way. And my coffee tastes like dirt and my back hurts and I’m miserable all the time,” she whined.

Felicity narrowed her eyes when she noticed her husband’s sly smile. “Why are you laughing?”

“I’m smiling,” he corrected, “because I know what’s wrong with you.”

“You do?” she asked, surprised.

He nodded and another softer smile adorned his stupidly handsome face.

“Care to elaborate?”

“I’m considering it.”

“Why?”

“Because the moment I tell you, you’re gonna freak out. Because I’m worried you’re not ready for this. Felicity, I’m afraid I’m gonna lose you.”

It was her who covered the remaining distance in the end.

“Oh, Oliver,” she whispered. “You’re not gonna lose me.”

He looked down, avoiding her gaze.

Felicity took his arms and placed them around her waist. She had to stand on her toes and lean her head back to meet his eyes but it was worth it.

“Hey, what’s wrong? I know I’m behaving like a hormone-crazed teenager at the moment but I swear that you’re not gonna lose me. No matter what.”

He shrugged and didn’t comment.

Felicity put her lips against his. Not kissing him, just that silly thing they sometimes did where they whispered their thoughts against each other’s lips.

“I’m glue, baby. Remember?”

His eyes lit up brighter than their Christmas tree at the reminder.

“Hi,” he whispered, tenderly.

Felicity caressed the back of his neck adoring the way his scruff felt against her face. They had been through so much and they would probably go through a lot more in the future. But it was okay as long as they had each other.

“Oliver?” she murmured.

He gave her a slow, wicked smile.

“Why are you wearing your tux? Is it because I got mad at you?”

“No.”

“Because it’s Christmas and you thought that I deserve a present?” she asked hopefully.

“You deserve all the presents. But no.”

“Then why? Are we celebrating anything today?”

She played with his hair while he mulled over his reply.

“Felicity,” he said at last, sounding gentle and unsure, “I think that you’re going to give me the best present of my life in a few months.”

Her eyes which had previously closed because of the safety of his warm embrace, flew open.

“No,” she denied.

Oliver stroked her back smoothly.

“Really?” she asked, unnerved.

“Yes.”

“How can you know?” To say that she was feeling overwhelmed by the idea would be an understatement.

“Trust me. I know.”

The look in his eyes… In that moment, Felicity would have done anything to keep him looking at her like this forever. Like she was the one constant in his life that would never change. Like she was his anchor. Like she had wrapped the world and offered it to him as a gift.

And that was the thought that broke through her panic. Because Oliver was her anchor as well. He had given her the world from the first moment he had walked in her cubicle and trusted her with his life as the Hood. She might have doubted many things during the past year but she had never, not once, doubted his love for her. And she knew unequivocally, deep in her bones that he would always cherish their child.

“I trust you,” she breathed.

To an outsider it might have seemed like she was replying to his earlier comment but Oliver understood. She was giving him back something she had kept locked since he had first lied to her about his son. She was giving him back a piece of her heart that she had desperately tried to keep safe.

They got lost in each other for a while, both misty-eyed but beaming.

“Do you think we’ll be good parents?” he said out of the blue. “I mean, William is already a teenager but with the life we lead, it might not always be possible for us to be there for this little one.”

“Then our child will grow up knowing that we did everything we could to protect him. He’ll know that his parents loved him even if we’re not there to show him.”

“Her,” he corrected.

Felicity tried to raise an eyebrow and failed.

“Her?”

“She’s a girl,” he announced in what Felicity called ‘his mayoral voice’. “I can’t wait to meet her.”

She shook her head in amusement. Girl or boy she had no doubt that her child would grow up loved.

“Best Christmas ever,” she declared, feeling happiness suffuse every molecule of her being.

And as Felicity rested her head on her husband’s chest, she realized that they were slow dancing without music.

#arrow #olicity #olicity fic #olicity fanfic #olicity secret santa 2018 #submission

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thenovelartist · 6 years

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Second Chances, Chapter 7

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“Do you have to go, daddy?”

Marinette could see the heartbreak on Adrien’s face. She couldn’t blame him, not when Emma pouted like that. “I do. But Mrs. Marinette will be here for bedtime.”

“But what about our story?” she whined.

“Mrs. Marinette will read that to you.”

Emma’s pout just got bigger.

With a sigh, Adrien knelt on the ground and scooped her up in his arms. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, daddy.”

He pulled away enough to press a kiss on her forehead. “Best daughter in the whole, wide world.”

“Best daddy in the whole, wide world.”

Marinette could only grin.

Adrien stood once again. “Be good for Mrs. Marinette, okay?”

Emma’s frown returned.

“I’ll see you in the morning.”

With one last wave and a “thanks again” directed at Marinette, Adrien headed out the door.

Leaving Emma to sit on the floor and pout.

Inwardly, Marinette sighed. “Do you want to play a game, Emma?”

Emma shook her head.

Since it was clear the girl wasn’t moving, Marinette sat cross-legged next to her. “Do you want to read the story early?”

Emma didn’t even answer before the waterworks started.

Marinette pulled the girl into her lap. “Oh, Emma.” she cooed, rubbing the sobbing girl’s back.

“I-I-I want d-daddy.”

“I know you do, but he has a meeting for work he has to go to.”

That only made Emma’s tears worse.

Marinette frowned but continued to rub Emma’s back. For a while, they sat on the floor just like that until Emma’s tears faded. “Feeling better?” Marinette asked.

Emma shook her head.

Marinette pursed her lips. “How about this?” she said, an idea forming in her mind. “We take a bath early, then you get into your pjs and we build a super. Awesome. Pillow fort.”

Emma looked mildly intrigued at this.

Marinette nodded slowly, trying to make it seem as magical as possible. “We take all the blankets and pillows we can find and build a fort. Then we’ll take a flashlight and read a story.”

Slowly, curiosity replaced the tears that filled her blue eyes.

“Do you want to do that?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah?” Marinette repeated inwardly cheering at her success. “Okay. Then let’s take a bath. That way, you can get all nice and snuggly in your pjs before we build the fort. All right?”

“Okay.”

From there, Marinette coaxed Emma to stand. They went up to her room to get her kitty cat pajamas before making their way into the bathroom. It was a bit odd for Marinette to figure her way through Emma’s bath time. Of course, she’d read a handful of parenting books that had touched on the subject, but that was very different than trying to wash the little girl up.

Eventually, the bath was finished, Emma was rinsed off, and the tub was drained. Marinette pulled the towel off the rod and draped it over Emma’s head before ruffling her hair.

Marinette grinned when she got a giggle from the girl. She peeked through the towel. “Are you nice and warm?”

Emma nodded, grabbing the towel tighter.

“Good.”

By the time Emma put on her pajamas, she was no longer obsessed over her father not being there. Something Marinette counted as a win.

“Are you ready,” Marinette said to hype her up. “To create the best pillow fort ever?”

“Yeah!”

“Come on.”

Together, they marched down the stairs. Emma grabbed the pillows and blankets while Marinette removed the couch cushions. One by one, they moved them upstairs into Emma’s room. By the time they finished their very rudimentary fort, Emma marveled at it like it was the greatest thing ever.

“Sit right in front of the entrance,�� Marinette said. “I’ll take a picture.”

Emma had no problem posing for the camera as Marinette took photo after photo. Absently, she wondered where Emma got that from: Chloe or Adrien.

Maybe both.

After a handful of pictures were taken, Marinette showed them to a grinning Emma. “My turn!” she cried. "I want to take a picture of you.”

“All right. Jut a few,” Marinette said, handing over her phone to Emma, who took it carefully and began snapping photos with a smile.

Thirty pictures later, Marinette reclaimed her phone and had Emma go fetch a story book. Marinette crawled into the fort and leaned her back against the bed, leaving room for Emma to sit down beside her and present her with a book. She didn’t expect for Emma to crawl into her lap without hesitation, story book in hand.

“This one,” Emma said, holding the book out.

With a fond smile, Marinette took the book out of Emma’s hands, allowing Emma to curl up against her. “We left off where the kitty is.” Emma said.

Marinette opened the book to remove the kitty cat bookmark and began reading.

It was eight thirty by the time Marinette replaced the bookmark and shut the book.

“One more chapter.”

“I’ve already read you three,” Marinette said with a smile. “It’s bed time.”

Emma frowned.

“Come on. Let’s go to bed.”

“But the bed has the fort on it,” Emma whined.

Marinette knelt in front of the entrance way. “We’ll move the blanket over. That way all you have to do to fix it is put the blanket back. Okay.”

While clearly reluctant, Emma did as asked. Marinette picked Plagg up from his spot guarding the entrance way and handed him to Emma before situating the covers over the both of them. “Comfy?”

Emma hummed affirmatively, pulling Plagg closer to her.

“Good.” Marinette softly said, sweeping Emma’s hair back out of her face. “Sweet dreams, Emma.”

“Good night,” Emma said in return.

With a squeeze of Emma’s shoulder, Marinette walked out the door, turning the lights off and shutting the door quietly behind her.

She grabbed her bag form the hallway, then made her way into the kitchen in order to put a kettle on the stove. From there, she pulled a tea bag out of her purse along with a sketchbook and her pencil bag to set on the kitchen table.

Marinette then opened the cabinet that held the mugs, unable to keep from smiling at the collection. It was clear that Emma got her love of cats from her father considering that half the mugs had some sort of cat on them. However, if she were being honest, her favorite was the ‘World’s Best Dad’ mug. She felt Adrien had definitely earned that title.

Marinette pulled out a simple white mug with the Gabriel logo on it just as the kettle started to hiss. She filled the cup then dipped in the tea bag, draping the string over the side. She sat down at the table, opening her sketchbook and started scribbling inside.

By the time her tea was gone, she’d finished seven pages, only to be startled by the sudden click of a lock. Marinette looked up, watching as Adrien appeared looking far more haggard than Marinette expected him to be. “I’d forgotten just how badly I hate events.”

Marinette snorted in amusement. “Was it really all that bad?”

“It absolutely blows my mind how people can be so… so…” Unable to find the right word, Adrien collapsed into a chair with a sigh. “I can’t describe it. I’m too tired.”

Marinette chuckled as she put the mug in the dishwasher.

Adrien rubbed his eyes. “How’d Emma do?”

“She started crying a few minutes after you left,” Marinette said, “but once we got over that huddle, she was fine.”

Adrien fell face first onto the table and groaned. “I knew I shouldn’t have left.”

“You might as well get her used to realizing that you have a job and that means you sometimes won’t be around to put her to bed.”

“But I don’t want her to have to fear I won’t be there.”

Marinette frowned, once again taking in his haggard appearance. “Do you want some tea?”

He forced himself up. “No. Thank you, though. I should really go get some sleep and hope I feel better in the morning.”

Suddenly, a thought crossed her mind that had her worried. “Please, tell me you didn’t have much to drink.”

He paused in his assault on his tie to look at her. “I have a rule when it comes to parties like this: I get one drink. One and only one. Unfortunately, I drank it too fast too early in the evening.”

It was a bit of a relief that his exhaustion wasn’t due to alcohol. She should have assumed so, but that little girl upstairs was slowly growing on her, and she couldn’t help but be protective. “Then go get some sleep. I’ll show myself out.”

“Thank you, once again,” Adrien said, tossing his mangled tie over the back of a chair. “I really appreciate it.”

“Even though you didn’t enjoy the evening?” Marinette teased, repacking her bag and heading to the door.

“Yes,” he said, walking with her down the hallway. “Even though I didn’t enjoy…”

He paused, causing Marinette to turn around to see why.

“Um…” he began, pointing into the living room. “Where are the couch cushions?”

With a chuckle, Marinette pulled out her phone. “Up in Emma’s room. We built a pillow fort.”

Adrien took the offered phone and immediately broke into a smile. “Please, send me that photo,” he asked, handing the phone back to Marinette.

“I would have built the fort down here,” Marinette said as she tapped her phone, “but I didn’t know if I’d be able to get her up into her room if I did.”

His phone dinged in his pocket. “As long as she behaved and went to bed, I’m happy.”

“We didn’t make it to bed until eight thirty-ish,” Marinette admitted. “I… may have caved and read her more than one chapter.”

Adrien chuckled. “It’s fine.”

“Well then,” she said, reaching for the door handle. “Good night.”

“Good night, Marinette,” Adrien said, propping the door open for her. “Sleep well, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

With a smile, Marinette hurried out to her car, inwardly kicking herself all the while. How tired must she be to think her boss’ voice was smoother than honey? Honestly, she needed to get a grip.

A grip that was hard to hold onto when she realized Adrien hadn’t shut the door yet. That he was watching her get into her car and didn’t shut the door until she started off. Smooth voice and good manners.

Heaven help her, she clearly wasn’t the night owl she once was. A large dose of sleep was definitely in order.

There was only one good thing about tonight, and that was Emma was excited to see Marinette for the evening. Apparently, the new and exciting bedtime routine was building a fort with all the couch cushions then hiding inside it while Marinette read via flashlight.

Just the thought made Adrien smile.

Which was good because he was talking with the Rossis and all he wanted to do was cringe. Partly because the joke Mr. Rossi finished was terrible, but mostly because his good breeding dictated that he not shove Lila off his arm. However, if she stroked his bicep one more time, he was going to lose it.

Maybe he would just break his rule and ask for a second drink because drink number one was long gone and he had two more hours left of this event.

The buzz in his back pocket called his attention. While he normally would chastise anyone who pulled their phone out to scroll through it, he decided that as a man who had a daughter back home, he could check it.

It was from Marinette, and it was clearly a photo of some sort. Warmth burst through his chest when he saw the picture of the finished fort with Emma siting in the entrance way, holding Plagg and smiling widely. Look at my fort! the caption said.

Adrien chuckled.

“Who is that?”

His amusement faded upon hearing Lila’s voice, remining him he wasn’t alone. “My daughter built a pillow fort with her babysitter tonight.”

Lila quickly took the phone from his hand and examined it. “Oh,” she cooed. “So cute.”

“I wasn’t aware you had a child.”

Adrien looked up to Mr. Rossi, noting the strain on the corners of the man’s lips as he tried to hold a somewhat polite expression. “Yes. A four-year-old daughter.”

He hummed. “No mother?”

“No.”

His disapproval practically radiated off him. “Then who raises that child?”

“I have a nanny,” Adrien answered, quickly disliking the direction this conversation was going.

“Ah,” Mr. Rossi relaxed. “Good. Live-in, I assume?”

“No. Just daytime.”

The disapproval returned. “Then who cares for her at night?”

“I do.”

Mr. Rossi raised a brow. “You cannot be serious.”

“Is there something wrong with that, sir?”

His mouth opened to say something, but Gabriel cleared his throat. The way Mr. Rossi paled under Gabriel’s gaze gave Adrien some twisted amusement.

“No,” Mr. Rossi answered tightly. “Nothing at all. Lila, I believe you had someone else you wished to introduce me to.”

Considering the shock on Lila’s face, her father was lying through his teeth in desperation for an out.

However, Adrien jumped at the chance of it being his out, too. “Good night, Lila,” Adrien said, removing her hand from his arm and bowing before her to act the gentleman. “Pleasure conversing with you.”

He inwardly cursed when she curtseyed and her lips quirked into a sultry sort of smile. “The pleasure was mine.” Lila then followed her father away into the crowd, likely in search of a corner they could have a ‘conversation’ in.

“He’s lucky he’s such a strong investor,” Gabriel grumbled.

Adrien smirked. “And shame Lila is such a strong model with a stronger following.”

Gabriel hummed his agreement. “Next time they dare insinuate you aren’t allowed to parent your own daughter, I’ll be certain to… conveniently forget to send out an invitation.”

Adrien’s smirk turned into a proper smile. “I appreciate that.”

“Well, considering they are demeaning my son and implying my granddaughter shouldn’t be raised by her own father, I think such actions were warranted. I will not have anyone slandering the Agreste name or image. Speaking of image, I’d like to see the one you received.”

Adrien happily pulled up the picture and handed the phone off to his father to examine. He wasn’t certain which was more picturesque: the photo or his father’s fond smile.

A ding sounded from his phone, and Gabriel’s brow quirked up as his smile faded slightly, causing Adrien to wonder what Marinette had just sent him.

“She’s a lovely looking sort of girl.”

Adrien blinked a few times before taking the phone back from his father. He stared at the new photo, one of Emma in Marinette’s lap looking very happy while Marinette hugged the girl tight, resting her chin on top of Emma’s head.

Goodness, they were cute.

Glad to see you’re having fun. He texted back. I wish I was there to enjoy it with you. Have a good night, Emma. And thank you again, Marinette.

Thankfully, the rest of the night was fairly painless, despite having to wade his way through the facades of all the investors. He was happy when he was released to leave, practically running to his car and speeding home.

He felt like he could breathe again by the time he parked his car in the garage. He made his way inside, yanking on his tie in the process. He made his way into the kitchen, not expecting Marinette to be standing there, offering him what looked to be a cup of tea in the ‘World’s Best Dad’ mug that Alya had gotten for him several Christmases ago.

“I just put the teabag in, but I find chamomile is always a good way to end a long day.”

He snapped from his shock to take the mug, his tie hanging loose around his neck. “Thank you.”

Her smile widened. “So, did it go well?”

“For the most part?”

“Because that wasn’t at all hesitant,” she sarcastically jested.

He chuckled. “It went about as well as to be expected. Maybe a little worse considering one of the new investors hates me.”

“How?”

“How much does he hate me?” Adrien clarified.

“How can he hate you?” Marinette responded. “You are one of the few people in the world with an instantly likable personality.”

Adrien took a sip of tea just so that he could have a distraction from that compliment. “Um… he hates the fact I actually parent my daughter instead of having her mother around or a nanny do it.”

Marinette stared at him oddly. “That’s ridiculous.”

Adrien shrugged. “Welcome to the world of judgmental pricks clothed in pleasant facades.”

Marinette sighed, her head turned to look off at a wall to the side. “If… you don’t mind me asking,” she began. “And please tell me if I’m out of line, but what happened between you and Chloe?”

Adrien allowed his eyes to drift closed for a moment. In reality, she likely was out of line for a nanny. However, this was also Alya’s friend and a girl he himself wanted to befriend. So, after taking a long sip of the tea, he motioned towards the living room. “Are there cushions on the couch or no?”

Marinette chuckled. “This time, yes, because we built the fort down here today and I was successfully able to send her up to bed afterwards. Eight twenty, this time.”

Adrien grinned. “Then take a seat.”

The duo walked into the living room, Marinette settling down on one end of the couch, curled up into a perfect ball while holding her mug in both hands.

Adrien took the love seat, angling himself so that he could see her clearly. “I guess I should start from the beginning. How Chloe and I got together and all that.

“As you know, we were childhood friends. We grew up together and were really close. I was homeschooled, so I didn’t get out much. I didn’t get to meet many girls besides Chloe and Alya. And the girls I did meet were all models whom, if I’m being honest, often came on as entitled and somewhat… immoral.”

“And Chloe didn’t?” Marinette interrupted.

Adrien snorted. “Ok. So, I know that you had some not so great experiences with Chloe in the past, but she really wasn’t all that bad with me. She was far better than most models, hence why we remained close friends. However, even I’ll admit my naivete. The reason I started dating her was because she was someone my mother always had a soft spot for, and when my mother passed on… Chloe was still there. I thought Chloe would have made mother proud.”

“I’m sorry,” Marinette said. “That’s really hard.”

Adrien knew that meant a lot coming from her. “Thank you. I miss her. I was far closer to her than I was my father, but my family drama is another story.

“Chloe and I did such a seamless transition from friends to dating that neither one of us really knew when we became official. And considering that we were still together even once we graduated, it just seemed natural for me to take it all the way. I proposed. She said yes. We got married. We played house. You’d think it would have been perfect, but once the honeymoon phase wore off, we began actually talking about out futures and dreams and finances and everything we should have talked about before marriage. And that’s when we realized our mistakes.

“It was hard for me because Chloe was my closest friend, not just my wife. I wanted to make this work. I started thinking up ways to make it work, trying to find middle ground. Chloe was fine at the beginning, but…”

“She wasn’t really fine with it.”

“She said she felt like she missed out,” Adrien confirmed. “And that’s when Chloe grew bitter. I think that there was no going back from that. Chloe is stubborn and insistent. She had her heart set on being done, telling me that we should just call this a mistake and part on equal terms. But I didn’t want to. I fought her on it. I tried to even give her more of what she wanted. But that wasn’t enough.

“We were quickly growing distant. She was close to getting divorce papers and I, in one last hasty Hail Mary, told her to give it one more chance. One week, and if we couldn’t get on track to make it work, I would sign the papers. So, I took a week off work so that we could try to reevaluate our priorities and reorganize our lives to make them work and going on outings and such. Out last night, we went out for dinner and got a little—read a lot—tipsy. We got a taxi home and… well…”

“You knocked her up.”

Adrien blushed at her blunt comment, but he couldn’t deny it was true. “Not that I knew about it. I woke the next morning so hung over that I didn’t notice Chloe wasn’t there for a good half hour. I, being the naïve idiot I was, thought that she was just downstairs because, you know, we… yeah. So, it took a while to get up and make it down into the kitchen, but she wasn’t there. Instead, there was a note that said ‘Adrien, No matter what we wanted to believe, we both knew a week wasn’t going to fix anything. Our wants are too different, and sex doesn’t hold a relationship together. Let’s end this so we can start over. Love Chloe’.”

There was a lapse of silence as Marinette stared at him, her jaw slightly open and her eyes full of pity.

Adrien stared down at the tea in his cup. “I texted her, told her I got the note and asked her were she was. We were able to hold some semblance of a civil conversation, though I’m pretty sure I was crying the whole time. A week after that, Chloe’s closest friend, Sabrina, appeared, handed me a stack of papers, and said ‘you’ve been served.’ I knew it was coming. I should have been prepared for it. But you have no idea how hard those words hit me because… it was really over. There were no more second chances or more tries. It also hit me hard because I knew this wasn’t just the end of our marriage. We weren’t going to be anything more than civil acquaintances after this. Losing your best friend… it hurts.”

Adrien took a sip of tea, allowing a long moment to collect himself before he met Marinette’s comforting gaze again. “We each were determined to go through this quickly. Chloe was reasonable in asking what she wanted, going so far to admit that I provided more in the relationship than she did. The documents were drawn up so we would split sixty-forty and we were ready to finalize it. Until Sabrina, who was somewhat of the go-between for us outside of the legal rooms, accidentally sent me a text meant for Chloe. But in that text, she was asking Chloe if she missed their breakfast date because her morning sickness was acting up. And I nearly lost it.

“So, at the beginning of our next proceeding—the one that should have been our last—I brought it up, and things escalated quickly. Our quick divorce dragged on another several months as I fought for at least partial custody of my child. One that Chloe was going to take out of the country and never inform me about. The ending decision of a fifty-fifty split forced Chloe to stay in the country, thankfully. However, the wedge was already between us. Co-parenting was going to be twice as hard considering it was clear that Chloe wanted nothing more to do with me. And now, this baby forced us to stay together. There wasn’t a clean second chance, now. Instead, we had a permanent attachment to each other, and while I know Chloe didn’t resent being pregnant, she resented the fact her ex-husband was the father.

“Fast forward a few months, and Chloe goes into labor. During one of the last appointments, the doctor discovered Emma was a breech baby, meaning a c-section. Chloe was prepared for the delivery, everything was going well, until right before Emma was born. Chloe was beginning not to respond well to the anesthesia. Since I was the ex-husband and no longer on Chloe’s list of emergency contacts, I wasn’t privy to the full explanation of what happened. All I know is that I got a call from Sabrina saying that despite the doctors doing all they could, Chloe never woke up from the anesthesia and passed on. ‘Allergic reaction’ the doctors claimed. I don’t know if I believe it or not. But then again, I didn’t give much of thought to anything other than the fact I was now a single dad and the only parent to a four-day old baby girl. That was enough of a distraction to take my mind off wondering about it.”

A long silence slipped between them. “I’m sorry,” Marinette eventually said. “That must have been overwhelming.”

Adrien sighed, swirling the tea around in his mug. “I feel guilty about it,” he admitted. “I’m thrilled to have full custody of Emma, but at the same point, I didn’t want it at the cost of her mother, no matter how poorly we got along.”

“You’ve forgiven her, then?” Marinette asked. “For wanting to take Emma away from you?”

“By her seventh month, Chloe had apologized, claiming she wasn’t thinking and that she was sorry to try to remove a father from Emma.” Which only made him feel guiltier. Yet, he snorted. “And this came after both of us yelling at each other in court, me accusing Chloe of ending up like her mother, and her accusing me of becoming my father. I strive so hard to not become the distant man my father became when mother passed, and I believe Chloe would have remembered how her mother left her every time things got hard. Do I think she would have been ‘mom of the year’? Not really. But do I think she would have been terrible? No. She would have been a mom to Emma.”

Marinette took a long sip of her tea. “Thanks for telling me,” she said. “I know how hard it is to dredge memories like that up.”

Adrien looked up from his mug to stare at her. She was curled in on herself, mug clutched tightly against her chest while she shifted further into the couch cushions. “On that note, can I ask you for your story? Or is it too hard right now?”

She paused, body tense before it sagged with a sigh. “I suppose it’s only fair.” She took a long sip of her tea before she began. “I… actually have Chloe to thank for it. I met Nathaniel back when I was fourteen. Nath had a habit of paying more attention to his sketchbook than the teachers. I think it was science that the teacher called him out for the fifth—no, sixth—time that week and sent him to the principal’s office. Well, on his way to the door, Chloe tripped him, and his sketchbook went flying from his hands. Turns out, he was drawing comics of him as a superhero saving a damsel-in-distress. Me.” Marinette smiled fondly.

“You do not strike me as a damsel-on-distress type.”

“Hush,” Marinette chastised with a grin. “It was endearing.

“Anyway, Chloe humiliated him so badly that he came up to me later that day and apologized for putting me in his comic. He said that it was insulting to me to make me the damsel-in-distress and he felt really bad because he thought I was amazingly bold and confident and didn’t need to be saved by some lame superhero. He looked so defeated that I just couldn’t let him walk away believing that he did anything wrong because I didn’t believe he did. I asked to see his work, and he looked absolutely miserable as he handed his sketchbook to me and told me I could keep it and burn it if I wanted to.”

A fond smile spread across her face. “I’ll never forget that look on his face when I told him ‘why would I burn it? I want to look through it and see your work.’ He was incredible. So talented. It was easy to pour on compliments and say just how flattered I was to be in his comic. Next thing I know, he’s bright red, stammering out a thank you.

“For a solid year, he continued drawing me and his superhero persona. In the middle of class, he would toss me little sketches. I would always sneak a thumbs-up to him when the teacher’s back was turned, and he’d always grin and blush. One day, he tossed me a sketch, and I realized that it was a birthday invitation. After class, he admitted that the one thing he wanted for his birthday was to take me out. I couldn’t say no.

“Fast forward a week, and he has this houseboat-picnic-in-the-moonlight planned out. There’s music in the background, and he brought his tablet to show me all the finished comics that he did of us. Afterwards, we somehow began sketching together. It… it was a lot of fun. Once the night was over and he walked me home like a perfect gentleman, we agreed to have another ‘artists’ date.’ And a third. And a fourth. Until the word ‘artists’’ got dropped and we were on our first real date. We were sixteen at that time. I gave him my first kiss, and he told me he loved me. Honestly, I never thought it was too early for that sentiment. He said it at just the right time.

“Graduation hits, and we had one dinner party with both our families to celebrate. Afterwards, we took this walk. He sat me down at a park bench and pulled out a ring.”

Marinette pulled a chain out from the front of her shirt, a ring hanging from the center like a pendant. “He told me that he knew people lost touch when high school ended, but he wasn’t ready to lose me, nor did he think he would ever be ready. I was young and in love so of course I said yes. It wasn’t until afterwards that we sat down and had a serious conversation about our future. We wanted this to work. His parents were hesitant, but my parents trusted our judgement. They really supported us, helped us plan the wedding and all that. Not that it was much of a wedding. We were young and didn’t have much money, so we knew we were going to have a budget wedding and no honeymoon. Not that that mattered to me. I’ll always think it was perfect.

“Right after our wedding, Nathaniel took me down to the docks, saying he had a surprise for me. That’s when he showed me our new house: the houseboat we had our first date on. Apparently, he came across the advertisement for it on accident, but the owner had passed on and the family was trying to sell it. He told me much later that he had gone and appealed to them to lower the price, and it was only because they were so desperate to rid themselves of the boat that they agreed. Anyway, he told me that he’d been taking extra commissions and odd jobs to put a down payment on it, and he managed to get enough for a down payment the week before our wedding. Even though his parents thought we were young and worried if we would last or not, they furnished the boat as a wedding gift. In fact, most gifts were things to fill that place, or for some of our poorer friends, they just spent a lot of time scrubbing the boat to a shine. It was the best thing ever, no matter how tiny it was. We spent our honeymoon traveling up and down the Seine, acting the tourist and wandering around different parts of Paris. I wouldn’t change that for the world.”

A silence slipped between them as Adrien slowly absorbed her story with a decent amount of jealousy. It was simple, for sure. But the sheer reverence in her tone, the way tears pricked at her eyes, the way she wouldn’t stop playing with her ring; it all pointed to a love he had only wished to find. “It sounds like you were a lucky woman, and he was a very lucky man.”

She covered her mouth with her hand, tears slipping from her eyes. Now very uncomfortable, Adrien froze, trying to figure out what to do. He was always terrible with crying women. He debated sitting down beside her and… what?

When she sniffed and her eyes scrunched tight, forcing more tears to pour down her cheeks, he decided getting tissues were the best option. He set his mug down, hurried to snag the tissue box from the bathroom and returned to Marinette’s side, holding the box out to her.

Not removing her hand from her mouth, she took a tissue. She blew her nose then took another to wipe her face off with.

“I’m sorry,” Adrien said. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

Marinette shook her head, black tresses fluttering around her face. “It’s fine,” she said, reaching for another tissue. “It’s supposed to be a good m-memory, right? I’m not s-supposed to c-cry over it.”

“You miss him,” Adrien said. “And for that, you’re allowed to cry.”

Her tears picked up even as she shot him a thankful smile. She used another tissue to blow her nose then took a breath to steady herself. “I think I should go,” she said, standing and walking to the door.

Adrien was quick to follow. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Marinette said, breathlessly as she flashed him a smile that clashed with the redness of her eyes.

“Okay,” Adrien relented, unsure if he should insist she stay until she stopped crying. “Drive safely, and sleep well.”

“Thank you,” Marinette said, grabbing her purse and searching for her car keys. Once she found them, she reached for the door handle, only to realize she was still holding a wad of tissues.

Adrien took them from her hand, then opened the door for her. “Text me when you get home, all right?”

Marinette looked up at him, her expression unreadable. “All right.”

Adrien forced a smile he didn’t feel. “Thank you. Good night.”

“Good night.” Marinette spun on her heel and quickly marched out to her car. Adrien didn’t shut the door until he saw her drive off, and even then, he watched her taillights disappear completely from the street before he shut the door.

He threw away the wad of snotty tissues, washing his hands afterwards. He then went back to the living room to take the box of tissues back to the bathroom and gather both unfinished mugs of tea to put in the dishwasher. Once the dishwasher was shut and turned on, he turned to head back upstairs, only to catch sight of the pink, polka-dotted sketchbook on the kitchen table. It must have been Marinette’s who had forgotten it in her haste.

Curiosity got the better of him as he reached for it, opening the cover half-way before letting it drop again. No, he couldn’t do that. He knew full well that a sketchbook was private. If he wanted to see what was inside, he would ask.

For now, he put it aside where he would remember it so he could give it to Marinette tomorrow. He forced himself up the stairs, stripped out of his suit, and pulled on a comfortable shirt and pajama bottoms. By the time he was in bed, his phone buzzed, and he anxiously snatched it from the night stand.

Home safe and sound. See you tomorrow.

He smiled fondly, his mind now at ease and willing to see sleep as an option. See you tomorrow.

#Second Chances #miraculous ladybug #mlb fanfiction #fanfiction #This is a long friggin chapter #Marinette Dupain Cheng #Adrien Agreste #Emma Agreste #pillow forts #bedtime story #Fluffy #Angst #backstory #tissues may be needed

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lostinfic · 6 years

Text

Nubivagant 3/3

(adj.) wandering through or amongst the clouds; moving through air; from the Latin nubes (“cloud”) and vagant (“wandering”), c. 1656.

Summary: Based on the movie “A walk in the clouds” but on a sheep farm in the north of England, at Christmas. During the war, Betty ran away from her grandfather’s farm with a man. Now that he’s left her and she might be pregnant, Betty must go back and face the family she abandoned. When Colonel Mercier finds her crying at the train station, he offers to pose as her husband. Tags: Hurt/comfort! fake married! sharing a bed! huddling for warmth! and many more! Pairing: Jean-François Mercier x Betty Vates Word count: 6700 Rating: Mature Part 1 | Part 2 | Ao3

December 24th, 1945

A ledge ran the length of Marnie’s kitchen, from the top of the cupboards, over the door frame to the window overlooking the backyard. As far as Betty could remember, the containers stacked on it had fascinated her: opened tin cans, glass bottles in green and milky white, ceramic jars with cork stoppers, earthenware pots glazed like the sea in winter, even old snuffboxes, and in between them, seashells, wooden thread spools, pine cones and chipped porcelain figurines, mementos gathering dust. From the ledge hung copper pots, tea-stained cups and bouquets of dried herbs tied with string. She used to imagine her grandmother was some sort of witch. As random as this assortment looked, Marnie knew exactly what each contained. She reached for a small wooden box and sprinkled its content in her boiling pot of soup without a second look.

The scent of vegetables and broth filled the room. The same, and only, Christmas record played on a loop in the living room: “Silent Night”, “Adeste Fideles”, “O Little Town of Bethlehem”, “O Holy Night”, “It came upon a Midnight Clear”. The same record every holiday season. Unconsciously following the rhythm of the songs, Betty sprinkled salt and mixed butter and flour together to make dough.

“Remember before the war,” Margaret said as she chopped carrots, “when Daddy took us to York one Christmas.” At the time, their father had already enrolled in the British Expeditionary Forces and knew he might leave his family soon, but hadn’t told them. He had wanted to make their last Christmas together special.

“The funfair!” Betty said. “Remember the ice rink with that huge pine tree in the middle. And you fell arse over kettle!”

“Oi! You can talk, I remember how scared you were in the chair-o-plane.”

“Only at first,” Betty retorted. Vertigo had struck when her feet had first lifted off the ground and she’d tried to grab her sister’s hand. But then the exhilaration of flying had overcome fear. Her sister and grandmother recounted other souvenirs of Christmas past, but Betty kept thinking about that feeling. Her pulse quickened, and she smiled at the memory. The next best thing to falling in love.

Betty’s gaze slid to the window, seeking Jean-François’ tall, lean frame through the mist. He walked out of the barn, carrying a ladder. She’d found some old clothes for him, denim trousers and a wool jumper she’d knitted herself quite a few years ago.

For all his distrust of the newcomer, Grandpa Marshall didn’t hesitate to ask for his help. One might say, he was abusing it even. Jean-François worked harder than anyone.

Grandpa Marshall held the ladder as Jean-François climbed up to the barn. Some roof shingles had come loose during last night’s storm.

“He might just win your grandpa after all,” Marnie said, looking over Betty’s shoulder. “Honest, when I first saw him I didn’t think he had it in him for hard work.”

“Me neither.”

“Where are you gonna live?” Marnie asked, cleaning the sink. “England or France?”

“I— I don’t know.” Betty wiped her hands on her apron, and looked around for something to do.

“Didn’t you talk about it?” she insisted.

“He wants to go back to France, see what it’s like first, you know, after the war.”

Marnie sighed. “Don’t tell your grandpa. You in France, Sarah, Margaret and Eric going back to Leeds like your aunts… He still blames me for giving him only daughters and granddaughters.” She left the kitchen, shaking her head and mumbling.

Betty sat at the table, a massive sturdy thing, its scratched surface a testament of its age. In the family for generations, it had seen every meal, every quarrel and celebration, even some amateur dental surgeries and a birth.

Betty sprinkled flour on the table and rolled the dough which Margaret placed into pie pans. Her mother added the sweet apple and raisin filling, Sarah didn’t say a word, lost in her own world as she often was.

Jean-François’ hammering echoed inside the house. Betty imagined this becoming her daily life. Cooking good, hearty meals, the kind rationing had prohibited for the past years, while her husband worked outside. They would manage the farm together, the money, the cattle, the sales. Her grandfather was more of the “if it ain’t broke don’t fix it” persuasion, and that had served him well, but times had changed, people and their needs too. Betty had so many ideas to improve the business. She wanted other breeds of sheep to diversify their production and merchandise. They could sell woollen garments in London, in the shops.

“I reckon it’s flat enough now,” Margaret teased. Betty had absentmindedly rolled the same piece of dough for the last five minutes.

“Sorry.”

“I can’t believe you still look at your husband like that after two years, it’s like you met yesterday.”

Betty babbled some answer. She couldn’t deny she was falling for her pretend-husband.

Jean-François had said he hadn’t loved anyone else in the eight years since his wife’s death, and here she was, fancying another man two months after Craze had left her. What would he think of her changeable heart? Of course, the circumstances were very different. And if she was honest, her feelings for Craze had dwindled many months before he left, she’d stayed with him out of necessity with a good dose of delusion.

“We all did it,” her mother said, out of the blue.

“Did what, Mam?”

“Left home for a man. I did it for your father. Margaret did it to get away. Look where that took us. I bet you thought you was different.” Beside her, Margaret snorted, a jeering little sound.

Not so long ago, Betty would have endured, accepted even, her mother’s words. Now she didn’t know how to deal with the anger it aroused in her. She fought the urge to run away. “Maybe I wouldn’t’ve been so easily convinced to leave if you didn’t say things like that to me all the time.” Her voice quivered, and she quickly lowered her gaze, but she stayed on her chair and squeezed the dough, hard enough to tear through it.

The fact that it was Christmas Eve made no difference to the sheep, so on top of preparing tonight’s party they had to get on with their usual chores. In between, hanging stockings and stirring the Christmas pudding, Betty fed the animals and gathered eggs. She didn’t meet Jean-François all day and started worrying he was avoiding her. Last night she’d heard him arguing with Grandpa Marshall, saying she was kind and strong, but after she feigned sleep and moved closer to him, he left her bed. Then this morning, it looked like he was trying to sneak out even though he denied it.

At the end of the afternoon, when he headed up to their bedroom, she followed him. His duffel bag was opened on the bed, and he was placing clothes in it. Her stomach dropped, suspicions confirmed. “If you wanna go so much, you just need to say. M’not keeping you.”

“I said one more day and I’m staying, well, two more days. No train on the 25th, I suppose.”

“Yeah.” She’d known right when they’d first discussed it that no trains operated on Christmas day. “So you don’t want to go?”

“I was looking for this,” he explained, holding up a camera. “I thought my sister would like it. But perhaps your family would too. No husband would come empty-handed to meet his new family in-law for the first time.”

“A camera? You sure?”

“I can buy another one for Gabrielle. I noticed there are no recent portraits of your family on the walls. I could take some pictures later when everyone is dressed up for church.”

“Dunno how Gramps will feel about that. It’s an expensive gift.”

“Would it make him feel better if I told him I… borrowed it from MI6?”

“You didn’t!”

He shrugged with a little grin. “I had it for a mission and forgot to give it back.” He opened a flap at the front of the camera and pulled out a retractable lens. He raised it to his eye. “Smile.”

“No way! I look awful,” she replied, smoothing down her hair. The shutter clicked. “You rascal!” She ran to his side of the bed, and he jumped out of her grasp. Another click. “Stop it!” she demanded, laughing.

“Last one.” She pulled out her tongue, but he took another photo anyway. “I’m sure they will be beautiful.”

Betty shook her head indulgently. “You’ll have to tell us how to get the photos developed, before… you know.”

Jean-François put the camera back in its leather case and sat on the bed. He smoothed his trousers unnecessarily several times. “I should be honest with you,” he said at last. “You’re right, I was trying to leave this morning.”

“Oh. I… I understand.” She turned her back to him and fiddled with objects on top of the dresser. “I mean, Gramps making you do all this work and you’ve more important things to do, I’m sure, with other people.”

“No, that’s not it. I’m worried that the longer I stay here…” Their eyes met in the mirror above the dresser. “I’m afraid it’s making things more difficult.”

“Difficult how?” she asked, joining him on the bed.

“With you family. And between us.” He relaxed his leg, and his knee touched hers. “Elizabeth, the more time I spend with you—”

Margaret burst into the room. “Come! Quick!” Betty and Jean-François ran down the stairs with her, and followed her outside.

Eric had fallen through a hole in the upper part of the barn. He clutched his leg, screaming in pain. They cleared the wooden planks and hay that had fallen over him, and carried him to the house on a makeshift gurney. He didn’t bleed but might have broken a bone. They fussed over him as they waited for a doctor.

Betty never found out the end of Jean-François’ sentence.

After the doctor’s visit, Jean-François showed the camera to Grandpa Marshall, and they spent the afternoon photographing the homestead. The old farmer glowed with pride, planning to send these pictures to newspapers and to family members abroad.

They ate cabbage soup for supper, leaving room in their stomachs for treats later on. As the women did their hair and make-up in preparation for Mass, the men shaved and took out suits they only wore once a year. Presents appeared under the tree, and carollers sang on the streets. Neighbours and friends came by with homemade gifts. The excitement in the air was tangible. Betty felt like a kid again. She and Margaret, ran around with curlers in their hair, laughing at the smallest things as they searched for something to wear in lieu of lipstick. “I can’t wait until we have mascara again and proper stockings,” Margaret sighed.

“Me too,” Betty replied, but she wasn’t really listening, instead examining her appearance in the mirror. “I can’t wear this.”

“You have to, we need to leave soon and Gramps wants a nice photo of us all before.”

Betty searched every closet in the house and found a green dress with a tulle skirt. Still struggling with the back zipper, she joined her family in the living room. “Can someone help me with this?” Her heart skipped a beat when she felt Jean-François behind her, his hands rested on the small of her back. He jiggled the stuck zipper and leaned in to get a closer look. His breath tickled the skin between her shoulder blades. He had to reach inside the back of the dress to fix the zipper, and when it finally moved, his fingers slid slowly up her spine with it. He swept her hair aside so it wouldn’t get caught in the metallic teeth, and his touch lingered on the nape of her neck as he closed the button at the top of her dress.

“All done,” he said, hands still on her.

“Thank you.”

Marnie’s giggles effectively ended their moment. “Look up,” the old woman said. As the whole family stared, Betty realized they were standing right under a branch of mistletoe.

“Come to think of it, we’ve never seen you two kiss,” Grandpa Marshall said.

Betty and Jean-François exchanged a look. Heat flooded her cheeks, and she covered her mouth with her fingertips.

“What do you say, ma belle?”

This was her only chance to kiss him, but she tried for nonchalance. She shrugged. “Tt’s tradition.”

“For the sake of tradition,” he agreed, cupping her cheek. Betty wet her lips, her heart pounded in her chest.

“What’s going on here?”

Betty startled, recognizing the voice. Two men came in, Donald and his father, Grandpa Marshall’s best friend. Salutations and cheers followed their entrance.

“Who is this?” Jean-François asked in a low voice, still toe to toe with her.

“He’s the man I’d’ve married if I’d stayed.”

“I see. Perhaps it can still happen for you.”

He walked away, but Betty grabbed his arm and pulled him back to her. She lost her nerves, and Jean-François looked at her with eyes full of questions.

“I don’t want him,” she said.

His hand returned to her cheek, and she grabbed his tie. The smallest smile graced his lips before he gently pressed them to hers. They kept the kiss chaste because of their audience, it still left Betty weak in the knees.

“Do you think we have convinced your family?” he asked, his mouth just an inch from hers.

“Not sure yet.”

He chuckled and kissed her again.

“Alright, enough of this,” Grandpa Marshall said, pushing them apart. “We’ve a picture to take.”

The whole family gathered in front of the Christmas tree, Jean-François adjusting their positions to fit in the frame.

“Jean, come here, with us,” Marnie said, Grandpa Marshall grumbled but she shushed him, “let Donald take the picture.”

The whole village, hundreds of people, gathered on the parvis of St. James church. Men smoked while women talked, and children chased each other overexcited to be up so late. The night was alive with lights and laughter that eclipsed the stars.

At the bottom of the stairs leading up to the tall doors, Betty slowed down. “D’you think he knows we’re not really married?” she whispered to Jean-François.

“Who?”

“God,” she replied as if it was the most obvious thing.

“Do you not want to go inside?”

She gave this some thought. “That’s probably worse, innit?”

“We’re not doing anything an unmarried couple should not do.” Satisfied with his answer, Betty took his arm and they walked up the stairs.

Marnie told him the railway company had built the church for its employees in the 1880s. The interior design reminded parishioners of that fact: red and yellow brick walls, pews like benches in the station waiting room and a font cover shaped like a railway engine wheel.

The real centre of attention that night was the choir of boys and men, in white robes, each holding a candle, the only light in the church. Their voices was but a hum above the chatter.

With every person they met, Betty had to explain she wasn’t, in fact, dead as her grandfather had told everyone. She seemed relieved when the service began.

Mercier wasn’t the most religious man, but he took some comfort in the thought that something as horrible as the war they’d lived through had a larger meaning. That his survival and the death of his friend were not random. This Christmas, more than any other one, invited to contemplate life and death and one’s place in it all. As the reverend spoke, he saw it in the faces of everyone around him: the frowns and the knitted brows, the teary eyes and white knuckles. Gratitude and grief, sadness and relief.

He reached for Betty’s hand, and wondered when doing that had become so natural.

The Marshalls were generous people, after mass, they opened their door to everyone. The house filled with friends and music: violin, guitar, accordion and bagpipes. The living room became a dance floor and the windows fogged. He took off his tie and jacket. There were flapjacks and hot cider, and Betty’s arms around his waist. She introduced him as her husband to anyone who asked. They called her Mrs. Mercier. And he played along. They both did. Perhaps a little too much. He hoped these people would never compare the stories they told them or they would find some serious discrepancies. The story of their wedding, in particular, they embellished with every repeat. What started as a “short civil ceremony”, by the fifth time had become “a gorgeous ceremony at St Paul’s cathedral, with the French National Orchestra playing as I walked down the aisle. Jean-François had just helped them escape the Nazis, you see.” A good undercover agent would never do such a thing, but it made Betty smile so he didn’t care.

When old neighbours told him embarrassing stories about Betty’s youth, he noticed she hid her face against his arm, so he encouraged them to continue. More than once, young Betty had gotten in trouble when trying to help. “Oh, you must have been, six or seven, when you fell off our apple tree,” a woman remembered.

“Said she was trying to return baby birds to their nest,” a man added.

“I still got a scar,” Betty said, pointing a faint line on her arm.

He touched it carefully, and hated Craze for abusing her big heart.

“You have scars too, don’t you?”

“A few. Here.” He unbuttoned the top of his shirt and pulled the lapel away to expose his collar bone. Her fingers danced along it, slipping under the shirt to touch the spot of raised, pinker skin. He could smell the cinnamon on her breath, and he wanted to kiss her again.

She dropped her hand and gaze. “Want something to drink?”

“Yes, whatever you can find.” She walked away so quickly she bumped into her aunt.

Mercier ran his hands down his cheeks with a groan. He had to pull himself together, he was here to help Betty not make things harder for her. Despite that good intention, when she came back and found her seat taken, he patted his knee in invitation.

“You sure?”

“You would not be the only one.” Around the room, three other women sat on their husband’s lap. “If you don’t want—”

“No, no, that’s okay. That’s the normal thing to do.” She sat sideways of his knees, keeping most her weight on her own legs. He wanted to pull her closer, feel her full weight on him. He drank instead. The Jubilee Stout she’d brought him tasted of roasted grains and licorice, and made him long for a full-bodied Cabernet Sauvignon or a fine Cognac.

Betty discussed with Mrs. Jeffrey, the woman they’d met at the train station on their arrival. As Betty talked, she relaxed further against him, and he drank some more to keep his hands off her. “So, I never got the full story of how you two met,” Mrs. Jeffrey said.

Mercier began to tell the story he’d prepared. “I was chasing after German spies who’d tried to pass off as French refugees.”

“Goodness gracious, German spies? Here?”

“Yes. They lured me into a trap, and when I escaped I had to hide. I found a place in the woods, behind the farm.”

“When I found him… I needed help,” Betty said, and Mercier frowned at her deviation from the story they’d agreed on, but she continued. “I’d hurt meself. In the forest. I’d slipped on the rocks, in the river, you know the place.”

“Beside the old bridge, yeah? Our Johnny fell there too, nearly drowned, he did.”

“Yeah, that’s the place. Well, you see, Jean-François he didn’t have to help me, could’ve ignored me, kept hiding, but he didn’t. He rescued me.” She cupped his cheek tenderly, and, never breaking eye-contact, he placed a lingering kiss on her palm.

“And you helped me too, to recover from my injuries,” he said. “I knew I had to go back to London. Duty called, but I didn’t want to go. The more time I spent with her, the harder it became to leave. So I asked her to marry me. I would have waited,” he added, also going off script. “If she’d wanted to stay with her family. I would have understood.”

Mrs. Jeffrey dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief. “You two are so sweet, I wish you a lifetime of happiness.” She pinched their cheeks and left.

Betty sunk against him, resting her head on his shoulder. “Are you tired, ma belle?”

“A bit, yeah. It’s past two am.”

They fell silent, observing the people around them, some celebrating, some snoring. They didn’t interest him as much as Betty, her warmth through his clothes, the faint scent of soap on her skin, the tiniest of freckles on her nose. Desire pooled low in his stomach.

“Jean-François.” She had a hand on his, not just resting there but pushing it away lightly, and he realized he’d ventured quite high up her skirt.

“My apologies, I— I think I need some fresh air.”

Mercier welcomed the night air and its cooling effect on his ardour. He rounded the corner of the house and lit a cigarette, taking a long drag. “Merde.”

He kept thinking of Olga, A.K.A. the countess, “am I overplaying my part?” she’d asked on their last meeting before she was killed.

Laughter and songs came through the window. Every person Betty had introduced him to as her husband she would have to tell he’d left her. The lie had gotten out of proportion and would make life harder for her rather than easier. This was why he should have left earlier.

The back door opened, he heard voices but didn’t see them from his side of the wall. “What’s the deal with Betty and that husband out of nowhere. Thought you was gonna marry her, Donald.”

“I was. Dunno what she’s thinking, takin’ up with a stranger. This land could’ve been mine. Now it’ll go to some French knobhead. She’ll never fit here with a man like that.”

The last guests left past 3am, and Betty searched around the house for Jean-François. She hadn’t seen him in the last hour. Not since she’d stopped his wandering hand, she hadn’t minded it, it just wasn’t the right moment or place for that. She hoped he wasn’t upset. She asked Marnie and Margaret, but they hadn’t seen him either. He wasn’t in the bedroom nor the washroom.

Finally, she found Jean-François asleep in an armchair in the closed summer kitchen. He looked too peaceful to wake him up, besides he’d have to get up in just a few hours for farm work. It was cold, so she covered him with an afghan blanket and brushed stray hair off his forehead. She laughed softly at his gaping mouth.

The old floorboards creaked, and Grandpa Marshall sidled up to her. Thumbs hooked under his braces, he considered Jean-François then his granddaughter. “Does he make you happy?”

“Jean-François— yes.”

“You sure? You don’t look it, not always. What happened, Betty?”

“It’s war, Gramps. Death and… and deceit. I can’t be the innocent girl I was before and that’s alright.”

“Well, war was easier to live through here. We was safe.”

Betty sighed and walked away, picking up empty bottles and glasses as she went. Her grandfather followed her to the kitchen. Of course, he had to pick a moment when she was sleepy and he’d drank to talk. She wiped her hands on a tea towels. “Dunno what to tell you, Gramps. I know I let you down. I can’t explain why I did what I did. Not entirely… Will you ever forgive me or d’you want me to leave?”

He sat down at the table, groaning at the ache in his joints. “To be fair, I knew it was coming,” he said.

“How d’you mean?”

“You don’t say much, luv, never have, but that don’t mean there’s nothing going on in that nugging of yours. With you father’s death, and you mother’s… You needed something else.”

“I do love the farm so very much, though.”

“I know. I know. Just tell me you found what you was looking for.”

“A bit, yeah. I know a thing or two about meself I didn’t know before.”

“And you found him.”

“I’ve still got a lot to think about.”

“Dunno thinking so much will do you any good, but you do what you gotta do.” He stood up and placed his hands on her shoulders. “You can stay here as long as you need too.”

“Yeah?”

“Come here, my lil’ chicken.” He gave her a hug, and for a brief moment, she felt like the happy child she had once been.

Grandpa Marshall went to bed, and Betty looked out the window with an unburdened heart.

“You would have let me sleep in that chair all night?” Jean-François asked, he held the afghan around his shoulders which made him look like a tall child.

“Didn’t want to wake you. You coming to bed, then?” They walked sluggishly up the stairs together. Jean-François collapsed on the mattress.

“Your family certainly knows how to throw a party.”

“You had a good time? Did it take your mind off your family?”

“Yes… Of course, now I’m thinking about them.”

She clapped a hand over her mouth. “Sorry!”

“I’m joking.” He crossed his arms under his head, stretching his torso in a way that pulled his shirt out of his trousers, and her eyes lingered on that sliver of skin. “Betty?”

Her head snapped up. “What?”

“Do you need help with your dress again?”

She didn’t. “Yes, please.” She sat on the edge of the bed, and he rose to his knees. She let him brush her hair aside.

“I think I heard you reconcile with your grandfather,” he said, opening the top button.

“Yeah, I think we’re on the right track.”

“I’m happy for you.”

He pulled the zipper all the way down, knuckle dragging down her spine as he did it. She stayed on the edge of the bed, dress sliding down her arms.

“D’you think I should tell them the truth?” she asked, looking at him over her shoulder.

He’d laid back down already, eyelids drooping with sleep, but he made an effort and propped himself up on an elbow.

“Why do you want to tell them? Don’t do it for me.”

“No, I mean, I do hate that they don’t know what you’re doing for me, but I’ve just realized I’m gonna have to lie to them about it all me life.”

“I shouldn’t have made you lie to them.”

“You did the right thing. Not sure I’d’ve taken that train without you.” She squeezed his hand. “I just feel I should be honest.” She sighed, too sleepy to consider the matter further.

“That’s very noble of you.”

She admired his ring on her finger. “Yeah, I reckon I should be knighted too.”

Jean-François chuckled and pulled on her hand so that she fell on the bed beside him. “I dub thee: chevalière de la Lune.” He patted both her shoulders then booped her nose.

They rested their heads on pillows, blinking slowly, smiling at each other. They should change out of their clothes before falling asleep, but she didn’t have the energy to stand up.

“Can you hold me? Just for a little while?” Betty asked.

“Sure.” He opened his arms, and she snuggled up to him. His hands rested on her back where her dress gaped.

“Happy Christmas,” she whispered. She pecked his cheek but he turned his head at the same moment and their lips met. They froze until Jean-François moved his lips, and she returned the kiss. A gentle kiss, sleepy and unhurried. Afterwards, she kept her eyes closed for a second, savouring the tingles on her lips.

Betty rested her head on his chest, and they fell asleep in their fancy clothes.

Sunlight danced behind her eyelids, shifting yellows and whites, compelling her to wake up. Although she resisted the pull of the morning, she became more aware of her surroundings, of the soft rise and fall under her cheek, of a heartbeat where he ear rested, of an arm over her. She smiled and pressed her nose to the soft cotton of his shirt. And she thought there would be no more war if everyone had such lovely mornings. The thought made a giggle bubble her throat and her stomach vibrated with it against Jean-François. He inhaled deeply and tightened his arms around her. “What’s so funny?” he mumbled.

“Nothing.”

Unpleasant sensations eventually caught up with her: full bladder, pasty mouth, pins and needles in her arm. He protested when she moved, but eventually let her go. She tiptoed to the washroom so as not to get caught by her family, she had every intention of going back to bed. She rinsed her mouth and freshened up with a flannel. The floor was cold under her bare feet and she rushed back to the room to dive under the covers. Jean-François was still in bed, but she thought she could smell mint about him.

They lay face to face, and she removed one of her hair from his shirt as an excuse to touch him.

“I could kill for a good cup of coffee,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Too much to drink?” She rubbed his forehead to alleviate the headache. He leaned into her touch until his head rested on her pillow. She ran her fingers through his hair, and his eyes fluttered shut.

“I only had two beers, but I didn’t get a lot of sleep. And I love coffee.”

“You can have a coffee tomorrow. You’ll be in France.”

His eyes opened, he searched her face, his brow furrowed. She shied away from that inquisitive gaze, tucking her head under his chin. He smoothed strands of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingered on her jaw. “I want you to come with me to France.”

She stilled. She couldn’t have heard him right.

“Please say something.”

She looked up at him, and she found in his eyes the same sincerity and concern that had touched her at the train station. “You really mean it.”

“Yes… I think I could use someone with me. And you are so very lovely to be with.” Betty smiled wide behind her fingers. “Is that a yes?”

“Yes! I mean, it’s only polite I return the favour.”

“This is not about politeness.”

Betty’s heart swelled in her chest, pushing laughter up her throat. She couldn’t stop smiling.

“May I kiss you again?” he asked.

“Oh, please do.”

From the way he wet his lips and looked at her, she knew this kiss would be different. A spark flared in her stomach. He brushed his nose down the slope of hers, and the first press of his lips was a featherlight caress. Without the pretence of mistletoe and her family watching, he took his time, building up the kiss. With each touch, the spark in her grew. Her mouth parted on a sigh, and he sucked on her bottom lip. Their legs entwined and fingers tangled in hair. He deepened the kiss, claiming her mouth, letting his hunger take over. And she welcomed it. He held her so tight, this fingertips reached her ribs.

In the last months, with sadness and anger plaguing her heart, intimacy had been far from her mind. But now, her body awoken from its hibernation, desire returned to her cells, and her pulse thumped between her legs. She canted her hips, pressing against him. The kiss turned messier. Wet smacks and panting breaths filled the room. She clawed at his shirt as if to rip it off him. A groan rewarded her ardour.

Jean-François pulled away suddenly. His eyes were wide, his lips kiss-swollen.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“I’m finding it hard to keep my promise to stay out of your knickers.”

“Oh, sod that promise.” She tugged on his collar to bring him back to her, and he laughed against her lips.

Jean-François pulled her dress down to her waist, his mouth following the fabric, pecking down her neck, across her collarbones, licking at the lacy edge of her bra. She removed it as fast as she could, and he kissed the red indentations left from sleeping with the bra on, a tender touch on each side of her breast then to the soft undersides, until her nipples were hard enough to graze his teeth over them.

Betty arched into his touch, trapping his leg between hers, squirming with a delicious sort of restlessness.

His hand sneaked under the layers of tulle, caressing her thighs and dragging his nails in a way that turned her skin to gooseflesh. She spread her legs without a moment of hesitation. He cupped her sex over her underwear and she bucked into his hand.

“Betty?”

“Keep going.”

His fingers slipped under the fabric, and he quirked an eyebrow at her readiness. He removed his hand from under her skirt, showed her his glistening fingers.

“I like you,” she said shyly.

He gave his beautiful fingers a lick. “You like me a lot.”

She hid her face in the crook of his neck and he kissed her hair. “It’s okay, ma belle.”

His light strokes of her folds became bolder, and she soon forgot her embarrassment. “Like this, please.” She guided his touch to a spot that made her gasp.

He moved faster, and she fisted the sheet. “Oh, God.” He studied her, the way she bit her bottom lip and squeezed her eyes shut, learning what elicited shivers and gasps.

“Look at me.” She opened her eyes, and he added a finger with a twist of his wrist that made her cry out. She put her hand behind his neck, bringing his forehead to hers. Their breaths mingled as her body went taut. And he swallowed her moans of release.

Betty fell against the pillow, every muscle felt like jelly. “Thank you.”

He chuckled at that and lay beside her,tracing lazy patterns on her stomach and chest. He was still completely dressed but his hair was a beautiful mess.

“I haven’t forgotten you,” she said, “I just need a minute.”

“I will be right here when you’re ready.”

“I bet you will.” She kicked off her dress and knickers. “Can I... be on top?”

“Hop on.” She chuckled as she straddled him.

She began with his wrinkled shirt, exposing his chest. Licking her lips, she caressed his flat stomach, the shelf of his ribs, the sparse hair on his pectorals. She was already rolling her hips where he bulged, and took some perverse pleasure in soaking his chic trousers. She inched lower down his legs and unbuckled his belt slowly, then dragged the zip down even slower. His groan of impatience was delicious, she stroked him through the cloth, enjoying the way he hardened under her palm.

“I didn’t know you were such a tease,” he said.

“It’s not teasing if I see it through, though.” She flashed a mischievous grin.

He pulled her in for a kiss, nipping at her bottom lip. She rubbed her nose along the stubble on his jaw, smelling his skin, faint traces of woodsy cologne and his natural musk. He gripped her hips, tried to tug her down on him, but she resisted.

“Just wait a minute, you’ll love this, I promise,” she said, and started to kiss down his body.

Her hot breath, inches from his pants made him twitch and hit her chin.

“You deserve a reward, don’t you think?”

“You don’t have to…”

“I want to.” And she found she really meant it. She wasn’t trying to please him beyond her own comfort zone, she was being honest. He already knew everything about her and had never once judged her, she doubted this, of all things, would be the straw that broke the camel’s back.

Betty kissed his hip, and he caressed her hair, and oddly chaste gesture given what she was about to do.

She pulled down his pants, just enough to release his cock and lick the length of it. He raised himself up on his elbows to watch her. His eyes were dark, his mouth agape, holding his breath until the next touch. She revelled in that look, this beautiful man who desired her.

She gathered saliva in her mouth and kissed his tip, she let him push up past her lips. His stomach flexed with each panting breath. She sucked on the head, and he cursed in French. She released him returning to teasing licks.

“Are you enjoying torturing me?” he asked.

“Immensely.”

“I’ll get back at you for this. There are so many things I want to do to you.”

“Tell me,” she asked, returning her mouth to his cock. He sucked in a breath and tried to focus on describing all the places where he wanted to make love to her, starting with the train to Paris. His voice was lower, rougher than usual, his French accent thickened. She could feel herself swelling and slickening, the throb of her own arousal as she imagined it with him.

She bobbed her head faster. He’d stopped talking now. Her free hand rested on his thigh, and he laced their fingers together. When his grip tightened, she stopped. “You can finish like this,” she said, “or we can continue.”

“Continue.”

She straddled him again. He didn’t penetrate her, but let her glide up and down his cock, coating it in her wetness. She caressed her breasts and rolled her hips languorously. He swallowed hard, and she watched the muscles in his neck work. It aroused her as much as the friction between her legs. When he rubbed his thumb over her clit, her rhythm faltered. She braced herself on his shoulders, grinding faster. The old bed squeaked and rattled. He licked the sweat up her neck and kissed just below her ear.

“Jean-François, I need…”

“What do you need?”

“I need you, in me.”

He rolled over her. He cupped her cheek and looked into her eyes in a way that made a lump rise in her throat.

She wrapped her legs and arms around him, holding his as close as possible as he slowly pushed in her. They moaned in unison, and he stilled, filling her. He throbbed and swelled in her. His breath was ragged, his teeth were at her shoulder. She needed him to move but she treasured this closeness, this unity. She kissed him, pouring her heart and soul into it.

When they parted, there was marvel in his eyes. He rested his forehead on hers and started moving, careful, sensuous rolls of his hips meant to make her feel every inch of him. And they lost themselves into each other.

When they finally left the bedroom, the table was already decked with the best china and Christmas crackers for lunch. The pudding steamed in the copper boiler used to heat water for washing, turning the kitchen into a sauna.

“About time,” Marnie said. “Help me with the mutton, will ya.”

“Sorry, we overslept.”

“Didn’t sound like sleeping,” Margaret muttered.

Betty joined her grandmother at the counter, even the men helped prepare the meal.

As they sat around the table, paper crowns on and laughing at Grandpa Marshall’s stories, Betty’s eyes drifted to the window, to the Howgill Fells awash with sunlight and the sheep grazing peacefully. It felt familiar and new at the same time. She would return here, of that she was sure. Under the table, Jean-François laced their fingers. Whatever 1946 had in store for them, they wouldn’t go through it alone.

Thank you for reading! Stay tuned for more of Jean-François and Betty in 2018 :D

#timepetalscollective #Mercier x Betty #teninch fic #spies of warsaw #a passionate woman #I kept thinking this was almost done #but noooo #it made me realize how many hours I spend on a chapter #nubivagant fic #lostinfic writes stuff #a walk in the clouds AU #dwcastxover

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