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seamless-socks · 11 months

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so knowing what i know about tumblr, i prolly missed an ass load of tags. if you see this and don't like… uh… sadness? death? more sadness? shitting on the old man in the sky (if he or she or whatever it could be even exists)? dying men who are a little bit irish and also texan somehow??? flee my friend!!! fleeeeee!!!

still here? too bad for you. this is unrefined, utterly. i wrote it at four am and merely reread it. once. please leave constructive criticism. i know it's not good, don't tell me for fuck's sake, not without some advice. i'll accept slander disguised as helpful tips but JUST BARELY AND YOU'RE ON THINNNNN FUCKING ICE PAL

I screamed at first. Flailed wildly, struggled to tear off my suit before Allen had stopped me. Shouted curses through my visor at the cold, unresponsive stars scattered throughout the black. Tear tracks ran down my face, little salty trails that had long dried. My strangled gasps had calmed down to even little sips of oxygen.

To be honest, I didn't much see the point. We were gonna die anyways. They'd left us behind. How the fuck could they have left us behind? How little did they care about us that the moment the first signs of danger appeared, they'd cut us off and disappeared? How were those the people I'd come to know over the past few months?

"Hey. Max." Allen. Shit, that guy couldn't let a man throw himself a pity fest in peace. Too good for this business, I always thought.

Allen and I were tied together at our waists using our severed o2 cords. It left our hands free and kept us from drifting out of range of one another. I'm pretty sure no one wants to die alone.

Don't look towards Eleanor.

I didn't look towards Eleanor.

"What," I snapped over my intercom with more bite than I'd intended. I immediately regretted it when Allen didn't reply, going silent except for the faint sounds of his breathing. Shit, shit, no, I didn't mean it--

"Got anyone special waiting for you back home?" His question was so surprising I couldn't help but let out an embarrassed laugh.

"Oh, fuck, no. Why, you interested, big boy?" I heard him inhale sharply, and I could just picture him stammering in my head. Wh-- huh, no-- I didn't-- I wasn't-- Max, now is not the time! Unfortunately for my own amusement, I didn't really feel like teasing Allen while we were waiting around for our respective imminent demises. "Aha, no, don't worry, just kidding with you." I sighed. "Tell you the truth, nah. If I had a man waiting for me, this is not the business I would have gone into. Only one waiting for me is my cute tabby cat, Arnold, but my asshole of a sister and I agree on one thing-- that girl deserves a good home. I'm not worried about her."

Allen chewed his lip. "I take it you and your sister aren't particularly close?"

I shrugged, trying to push the memories away. "Yeah, not really. Madds was… yeah, doesn't matter how we got like this, honestly, but there ain't much coming back from it." I gave a short, dry laugh. "Especially not now. What about you? Got someone I should know about so I can tease you in our last moments?"

"…" And I fucked up again. I was really good at that, it seemed, but hey, he'd asked first. Why ask if you didn't want it turned around on you?

"…Okay, promise me you won't laugh." Well, that got my eyebrows shooting skyward. Starward. What fuckin' ever.

"Not so sure how hard that'll be, but sure. I'll do my best."

He took a deep breath and then let it out explosively, causing the intercom to spaz out for a second. I winced at the white noise before it cleared up. "Alright, okay. Well, I'm not sure it counts, but… no, really, promise me you won't laugh."

"Cross my heart and hope to die." I started making an X over my heart but couldn't quite reach. Clumsy thing, spacesuits are. "…Eh, I'm with it in spirit. Seriously, though, I won't laugh. It'd be a real douche thing to do right now."

I couldn't see his face, but I swear he smiled. "Thanks. So there was this boy, right? Grade one, I walk up and ask him, do you wanna be friends? Just like that. And he just goes, sure! And that was that, we were friends. Kids are sweet like that, huh?" I grinned and nodded before remembering he couldn't see it. "So we hung out every day at school afterwards. I can't really remember what we did that first year, but it must've been fun, cuz when grade 2 rolled around, I was over the moon to see we were in the same class again. We talked at lunch breaks, and in class, when they let us. Holy shit, we talked so much. I don't think I've ever talked to anyone else in my life as much as I talked with him."

"What did you talk about?" I hummed, crossing my legs.

"Oh, things. It wasn't really important. Whatever caught our interest. What would you do if you had this power, what if you turned into a dinosaur, what's your favorite book, that sort of thing. We just went really in depth, like ridiculously in depth for a couple of… what, five year olds? But it was fun. Made me look forward to coming to school more than I already did."

"Aw, Allen, you were a teacher's pet?" I groaned mockingly. He laughed.

"Yeah, I guess that's what you'd call it. We both were. Quiet, liked to learn. Don't think the whole 'opposites attract' thing is true, to be honest. Third grade rolled around, and we both discovered that we loved to write stories. They were dumbass stories, but we were in third grade, what do you expect? We encouraged each other and I think my enthusiasm might have carried on to him, because later on, turned out he didn't really wanna write anymore. But that's not relevant right now. We made up this game where one of us would create a scenario and the other would pretend to be a character in the scenario, like writing a book in real time."

"Holy shit, Allen, you were a nerd even in third grade!? I mean, knowing you, yeah, but I thought that was more of a high schooler thing."

"Hey, I said no laughing! I know it was stupid."

"Sorry, sorry. You know I'm not serious. Just teasing and all. Sorry."

"…I don't mind, actually. Takes my mind off the… all this."

We both went quiet. I could feel the weight of the stars pressing in on me.

"…Anyways. Fourth, fifth, sixth, we got better at writing and critiqued each other's work. Made some comics together at the start of class, while the teachers were getting the other kids to calm down. Some of them I've still got at home, actually. Maybe I can show them t…."

…

"Ah. We kept playing that game, by the way. Had some real wild times, or as wild as you could get when it's all in your head. Looking back, he's the only person I really talked to those whole six years. Teachers liked me, sure, and I guess my classmates did, too, but all they remembered me for was being that slightly weird quiet kid who hung around his friend all the time. I think it fucked me up a bit when we went to different schools. I made some new friends, but it got a little exhausting keeping up those friendships, and I wasn't getting what I wanted out of them, so I just stopped talking to them. First year of high school rolled around, and when it was over, it really hit me. We hadn't talked in months. Hadn't met in a year. I didn't make any new friends. I don't see the point in talking about it now, but well. After that, I just drifted on through. Grades slipped. If I'd been better about keeping them up, maybe we'd never have met." Maybe he wouldn't be dying here with me, was what he was saying. "Ah, shit, sorry, that came out wrong--"

"Allen," I silenced him. "Don't worry. I get it. Keep going. Or don't, whatever you want."

He cleared his throat, and I couldn't help but notice his voice becoming a bit more warbley as he continued. "Shit. Well, it wasn't until grade twelve happened that I realized I wanted to die."

He stopped abruptly. Jesus fucking christ. That was… Jesus christ! I mean, now was as good a time as ever to spill your guts, but I'd never imagined Allen of all people…

"Fuuuuck, sorry. Shouldn't have told you that. That was rude."

"I don't mind. I think if it's helping you, it's good. Is it helping you?"

He sniffed. "Yeah."

"Okay. You can go on," I encouraged him softly. When did I get so calm and nurturing all of a sudden? Since your best mate admitted he wanted to kill himself, and hasn't told you it ever went away. Asshole.

"So I dropped out of school and became a cargo shipper. Kept drifting along, got caught smuggling goods with a shady crew, sentenced to shipping essential supplies through dangerous quadrants. You know how it went after. Things got better, I guess? And now… shit, now I don't wanna die, but if we get out of this mess, what the fuck am I gonna do with my life? Just keep drifting along? If my friend saw me now, he'd be a helluva lot more disappointed than I could handle. I miss him."

"What was his name?" The quiet question elicited a burst of laughter.

"And that's the real kicker-- for being the main part of my life I enjoyed the most, I can't remember. I can't remember his fucking name. It's like some huge, cosmic joke-- or maybe a twisted story with a solemn, shitty old moral at the end." Allen suddenly snarled, becoming more bitter than I'd ever heard from him. "Agh, if there is some grand old fuck up there, I'm gonna kick him in the jewels a few times. Bastard's an asshole."

That surprised a cackle out of me. "Oh, I'd drink to that. A real cunt." I raised my fist and shook it into empty space comically. "Hear that? Suck my big one, God!"

Allen was laughing with me. "Yeah, go find yourself a real hobby instead of giving kids cancer and shitting on the homeless!"

I laughed harder. Fuck, why hadn't he shown this side of himself back when we were living together on the ship? Cuz he was scared, probably. You're not the most welcoming kinda guy, if you haven't noticed. From what he's told you about his youth, are you really surprised?

We chuckled together for a good while after, a soft, tender thing between us. It was comfortable. Given more time, maybe I could've been the friend Allen needed. Given more time, this conversation never would have happened, and I wouldn't have seen this side of him in the first place. Given more time, I'd just keep on being a right old cunt like I'd always been.

The air felt thinner. The laughing had tired me out, and no matter how deeply I breathed, I couldn't get the ache out of my lungs. "Welp. I think this is it," I chirped, trying to keep the fear out of my voice. "See you on the other side, Allen."

"Same to you, Max."

"…Uh, and if you happen to hear any delirious apologies about Madeline… ignore em, please. That'd be embarrassing."

"After what I just told you? Couldn't embarrass me if you tried, whoever Madeline is."

"Oof, I wouldn't be so sure of that. You don't wanna test me."

"Haha, you're right. I don't wanna test you."

We both subsided. I had a bit of a stupid smile on my face while black crept in on the sides of my vision. My lungs constricted and my breaths turned to gasps turned to wheezes. Muffled came the sounds of Allen going through a similar crisis, but I didn't have the brains for much sympathy at the moment. Mostly just a bunch of 'oh, wahhh, I don't wanna die' nonsense. Well, not nonsense. I don't wanna die. Don't think Allen does, really, either. There's no light at the end of the tunnel. A bunch of little ones, maybe, holes poked in a big old black blanket thrown over sticks by a couple of little kids. They're laughing. They're smiling. I can see wisps of Allen's curly blond hair, and the tangled brown mat of my own.

Everything's gonna be fine, I wanna tell him. We'll meet again.

#uhhh #death #existential dread? but only a little #i mean they're bros about to die #my writing #astronauts #but i didn't research SHIT #ngl i don't really like this one. i'm more of a funnies and gore writer than a dread and sadness writer and yet #i always write that latter #tw #cw #whatever.

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softmafia · 2 years

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𝒪𝓃𝑒 𝒞𝒶𝓇𝑒𝓁𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝒥𝓊𝓂𝓅

Warnings: fem y/n, nsfw, scratching, grinding, oc insert(should’ve started tagging this a long time ago, oopsies)

A/n: Self indulgent. The amount of times I accidentally posted this before I finished it are insane😭I don’t know if tumblr updated or if I’m just stupid. Sorry for the shitty dialogue I’m feeling very sick so my mind is a bit hazy, but anything is sexy in Hisoka’s voice if you just try.

Hisoka bore his teeth behind his lips at the sight in his kitchen.. the girl that was dressed in his shirt, and his boxers around her hips; one careless jump away from falling down and around her ankles. Fuck.

Hisoka stood in the doorway of the kitchen, hands on his hips as he watched the woman rummage through his refrigerator, it’s not like he had anything special in there anyway.. he rarely ever stayed in this apartment or used anything. Before Y/n came along half of the food he had stored in there would’ve gone bad due to him being away on missions and chasing after the Phantom Troupe, but now he had this little scavenger to eat it all up for him before the fruits started to rot.

The girl turned her head, it’s not like she just now noticed his presence.. she felt him standing there, ogling her from behind. Y/n smirked at him behind her shoulder, looking at him with her beady little eyes, “Take a picture it’ll last longer~” her voice was raspy from having just woken up, she took a sip of an apple juice box; ah, Hisoka remembered her putting a whole pack of that in his fridge. He didn’t know why she liked those tiny juice boxes so much. She just sucked it all up in under 30 seconds, then leave it on the ground for him to painstakingly collect and throw away. However, he did find it satisfying when she poked the straws in that little hole, sometimes she would miss, then howl in frustration. He would turn his head away from her gaze to uncontrollably smirk; it was amusing to watch sometimes.

The magician smirked and walked towards her, “Ahah~ well I have the real thing right at my fingertips~” he whispered, looking down at the woman. His golden, narrow eyes met her e/c doe eyes. “I think that’s much better than a mere picture~”

Y/n looked at him, gnawing on the tip of the straw. Her pupils darted around, scanning his face before she grinned again, “Ok.” She spun around completely, walking out of the kitchen and leaving Hisoka to his own devices. A puff of air escaped the magicians nose as he watched her walk off; he couldn’t take his eyes off of her whenever she did that, the way her hips swayed; moving back and forth as she carried on her merry way, her free arm was slightly lifted upwards. Her little walk never failed to light a fire in the magician’s loins, it didn’t help now that his boxers on her hips were riding so unbearably low to the point he had gotten a glimpse to the line of her asscrack; that sight wasn’t new to him, but seeing it other than when he was sleeping with her made his cock throb.

Hisoka turned away once she was out of view, his brows furrowed as he placed a hand firmly over his mouth. He squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to silence the thoughts of perversion in his mind. The memories of her last night, sprawled out naked below him, his hand right under her breast that bounced with his thrusts, the burning sensation on his chest from how her nails dragged on his skin, ripping the tissue and drawing blood. The man sighed, a gravelly noise escaped his throat as his eyes opened again. What has this girl done to me.. his lips curled into a smirk, then let out a soft chuckle. His hand fell to his thigh after he slicked back his fuchsia bangs.

“Come in my house, lay in my bed, eat my food..” Hisoka grumbled as he followed after Y/n, wherever she went. His voice echoed through the halls of their shared apartment, he knew she could hear him, “I think you should be more kind to me dear~ nobody gets these privileges from me~” he entered the living room, where he found the girl sitting on his couch, looking innocent as she gnawed that straw to hell and back. All she did was smirk at him as he stepped closer to her, his hands in the pocket of his sweatpants. “One day you might just brat yourself into a slit throat, dear~” he cooed, an empty threat.

They both knew deep down, no matter what, Hisoka couldn’t bring himself to end Y/n’s life.

He quickly plucked the chewed up straw out of her mouth, holding it between his two fingers; he wasn’t disgusted by her saliva.. god if he had a dollar for how many times this woman had spat in his mouth..

“You shouldn’t eat plastic~” he flicked the straw across the room, over the girl’s head and behind the couch.

“I wasn’t eating it.” She frowned at him, letting her legs drop to the floor, her hands on her thighs as she glared up at him.

He couldn’t help but smirk, her little poses were always so cute.. always spreading her legs when she sat, hunched over to try and look intimidating, but she just made herself more adorable in his eyes.

Hisoka sat on the couch beside of Y/n, close enough so that the sides of their thighs were touching, he could practically feel the softness of her bare thigh through his sweatpants, “Mm..” he hummed softly under his breath as he smoothly hooked an arm around her shoulders, his other hand moved to her thigh, caressing it, moving up and down in a soft motion. He looked at her, seeing her eyes glued on his hand in thought; he dreamed of prying open her brain and seeing what went on inside of it.. his girl was shrouded in mystery, unpredictable and impulsive. A mirror of his own life, the embodiment of his own darkness and indulgences, his perfect little vice. Though a part of him dreaded her unreadable expression. Did she secretly hate what Hisoka was doing to her? Was she nervous? Scared? The last thing Hisoka wanted to do was hurt her, or scare her away, she was more than a toy to him even if he wanted to admit it or not; she was an ally, his lover.. he couldn’t loose her.

Being too lost in his thought, his breath hitched in surprise as Y/n suddenly shifted, moving into his lap to straddle his thigh. Her little giggle left her lips as her fingers gently danced down his sharp jawline, the girl’s eyes met his wide ones, “Love you~”

Hisoka calmed down from his moment of shock, he chuckled and put his hands on her hips, “I love you too~”

She said those words to him all of the time.. and he would reciprocate; it was always random moments when she would verbalize his love to him, if he didn’t know any better he would’ve thought she was casting a spell on him or something.. why else would this seemingly cold, unloving man find comfort in this girl’s touch? It was most likely Y/n’s skittish, yet nervous nature, she didn’t know the right words to say, or the right moment to say it; so she just spoke those words of endearment.

Y/n kept her eyes locked with Hisoka’s, she whimpered quietly as she started to move her hips in a slow motion, rubbing back and forth on his thigh. She made sure to push her crotch down as hard as she could, wanting to feel his muscles though the barrier of cloth that kept them apart. “Ah,” Hisoka whispered when he felt the pressure of Y/n coming down on him, “Easy,” he cooed at her, holding her hips and guiding her at a steady pace; and comfortable distance. Y/n’s brows furrowed upwards as she felt the fabric of Hisoka’s boxers brush against her clit, “H-Hah~” she breathed out, her hand slid down to Hisoka’s shoulder, squeezing it as she moved at his pace.

He felt the girl’s nails dig into his skin, making him grit his teeth, wincing at the pain but god damn did it feel good. His body was covered in scratches, some healed; some fresh, all from Y/n, the woman making her mark on him. It burned so good, and made the hard dent in the crotch of his sweatpants throb unbearably.

Y/n shivered in Hisoka’s grip, her eyes fluttered, blinking wildly before she screwed them shut, “Ah-! Hahh~!” Her voice cracked as she shuffled on his lap, she pressed her forehead to his shoulder and lifted her hips up, “Get off..” she muttered, a hint of frustration to her voice as she focused on pulling down the boxers that hung baggy on her. She made do with slipping one leg out of the cloth, letting the boxers squeeze around her thigh instead. She pushed her hips into his hands again, a shaky sigh left her mouth when his sweatpants made contact with her wet clit.

Hisoka watched the girl with much amusement, a smirk on his lips the entire time; amused on how she was so focused on what she wanted, seeing that little bit of frustration jump out as she wiggled his boxers off of herself. “Ngh~” Y/n lifted her head up again to reconnect their gaze. “Happy now~?” Hisoka mused, leaning his face towards hers until his lips were barely grazing under her eye. Y/n nodded as they both commenced with her thigh-grinding.

Hisoka adored that look in her eye, he reveled in the soft noises he helped milk out of her, she was undeniably his.. his vice, the little ace up his sleeve, the itch in his crotch.

Y/n’s hand moved down Hisoka’s body, feeling the rough exterior of his muscled physique, he looked nearly similar to a statue carved from stone if you’d squint, her hand trailed down until it reached that bulge. Hisoka breathed out, which made her eye twitch at the little puff of breath so close to her face, but she squeezed and pawed at his crotch nonetheless. The movement of her hips began to get faster, Hisoka helped her keep a steady rhythm as she pawed at his crotch.

Her slick began to rub off on Hisoka’s pants, creating a dark, sticky, wet smudge; but neither of them seemed to care.. Hisoka would just blame it on a spill if the laundry machine couldn’t wash it out. But Christ sake who doesn’t own a pair of sweatpants that aren’t stained? “I..” Y/n rasped out, making sure her eyes were kept locked with his, no matter how hard she wanted to blink or completely close hers, “I love you..” she whispered. Hisoka chuckled, squeezing her hips, “I love you too~” Y/n smiled, but immediately jerked up, her back arched as her mouth opened in a silent scream. Hisoka let out a quiet grunt as he pushed her hips down; she squeezed his crotch so perfectly. They came at the same time; her juices spilled on his thigh, and his seed spurted inside of his pants.. the mess they made together.

Y/n fell forward again, panting heavily and laying limp against Hisoka’s body as he held her, his hands were moved to her thighs as equally heavy breaths left his own lips. He heard her giggle, which put a smile on his face, he closed his eyes and tilted his head to rest on the back of the couch. “We’re so messy~” she teased, reaching between her legs and scooping some of her wetness with her fingers, then holding them to Hisoka’s lips. The man happily wrapped his tongue around her wet fingers, licking them clean until the only thing staining her fingers was his saliva. He groaned with delight as the sweet, salty flavor coated his tongue. “Made a mess of my damn pants..” he laughed breathily, with the rare occurrence of a profanity coming from his mouth.

“I love you, `Soka~”

“I love you too, Y/n.”

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thefallenbibliophilequote · 3 years

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I Carry Your Heart With Me

Bucky x Reader

Summary: Valentine's Day can be hard, but not only for singles.

Word count: 2,262

Warnings: implied smut, mainly fluff, some angst.

A/N: this is my Hoelentine gift to @fandomoneshots-imagines I really hope you'll like it, have a happy Hoelentine!!! @amythedvdhoarder @chrissquares @drabblewithfrannybarnes

A/N2: And yes, the poem by E. E. Cummings inspired this and I have to say that I got emotional writing this. The idea that inspired this fanfic though, was the song by Taylor Cruel Summer. As always let me know via ask if you want to be added to the taglist! be warned that this is not betad and errors are probably hanging out throughout this story, i take full responsibiblity!

No one is allowed to repost my writing or steal or copy my work! Reblog on tumblr is fine.

Masterlist

"I don't think it'll fit." Natasha tilted her head, trying to picture Tony's sketches coming to life in the ball room.

"Of course it will!" you heard the two of them coming into the common room.

"Hear ye, hear ye! I am happy to announce that next week we will be hosting a Valentine's Day party!" at the few groans in the room he continued. "No you can't skip it, and yes you will have to get dressed up nicely."

"What if we accidently get hurt on a mission and have to miss it?" Sam quipped at Tony who was not amused.

"Girls love heroes, so if you somehow end up in that situation clean yourself up and get to the party."

"You can't just force everyone here to go to a party, what if I want to stay in?" you raised your eyebrow at Tony, you liked the plans that you had for valentines and you were kind of looking forward to it actually. You weren't the only one.

"Want to bet on it?" He joked but you knew for him it was an actual challenge. "Besides, what are you going to do instead?"

"Nothing, maybe I will watch a shitty valentines movie?" You hoped he will let this go, a shitty movie was not in your schedule but he didn't have to know that. No one did.

"You need to get laid on Valentines." He shook his head.

"We could set you up! Come on, I'll make sure he'll be a good one." Natasha was smirking at your horrified look. You shook your head before the words could come out of your mouth.

"She doesn't need to be set up with, leave her alone. If she doesn't want to go to the stupid party then she shouldn't have to." Bucky called from where he was sitting opposite you on the other sofa. You met his eye for a moment before you both looked away from each other.

"Don't be so grumpy, Frosty! Maybe we should set you up too, then you won't call my party stupid."

"All I need is peace and quiet, which is why I won't be attending the party Tony." Bucky dismissed it, shifting in his seat. You could feel his unease at the subject.

"Don't worry, I'll find you a good one. Nat and I are the best at that." Sam winked at Bucky and put his arm around Natasha who wore a smirk matching his.

"Leave him alone too. Wow the two of you are disgusting." You got up from the chair, taking the tea from the table. "Now if you'll excuse me I'll go to my room and I am going to stay there because no one is setting me up."

With a stern look at Natasha you turned and walked to your room, leaving the door unlocked.

Trying to stifle a laugh you reached for the lamp on your nightstand and as it lit up a beautiful face of a certain supersoldier hanged mere inches from your face. Now that you could see his smile, you leaned forward to capture his lips causing him to moan.

"What took you so long?" he got into bed beside you.

"Sorry doll, I was chased around a little, had to disappear. I can't believe they want to set me up with some girl." He pulled you closer to him, chest to chest. "I don't need some gal, I already have the best gal right here with me."

"What a sap." You laughed it off, but your cheeks felt hot and you knew that he could tell. You let yourself sink into those brilliant blue eyes of his, sighing in content at finally letting the mask fall off and being able to spend time alone with your boyfriend.

"What if we told them?"

"What? Doll we can't tell them." He pouted at you. You wanted for a while now to let everyone know that you're dating but Bucky never wanted that, he insisted that it'll stay a secret.

"Bucky come on, we are almost a year together now and I don't want to spend our anniversary apart from you and at a stupid party with someone else." You leaned up a bit to look at him properly.

"But we talked about this. I want to keep this amazing thing that we have just for us, for now at least." He tried to take your chin but you pushed his hand away.

"But for how long Bucky? I don't want to keep secrets just to keep you! It's hard not being able to kiss you, hold you whenever we are anywhere public outside of our rooms. Sneaking into your bed and you sneaking into mind… it's a bit tiring." You admitted.

"I don't know for how long, but we will figure this out. It could be dangerous if people knew and- doll, I want to keep this safe. This is so private and I've never had something like this before."

You understood where he was coming from, it still tugged on your heart but you only nodded to him. Lying back down next to him, he reached over you for the lamp with a smirk on his face and he kissed you as the light went out.

It's been a long agonizing week and you barely got to see Bucky with his sudden mission and the planning for the big party Tony was throwing. And then the big day came.

It has been one year exactly. You opened your eyes that morning, not surprised to find your bed empty but you still wished he had stayed a little bit longer. You picked up the neatly folded note from the side of your bed, smiling when you realized what it was.

Doll,

Happy one year anniversary to us! You know I'm not good with words but I still want to try and explain to you what I feel. A year ago I shared my first kiss with a beautiful gal, and now a year later I woke up to having that special gal in my arms. I never thought that I'll be able to keep you mine for this long, and while I can't spend this special day with you I am looking forward to spending every other day with you.

I love you with all my heart Doll.

-your Bucky

Bucky still is a sweet talker, and it had you smiling like a little girl and left you a blushing mess. He liked playing with you like that, and you couldn't help but love him more for it. It didn't come easy for him to express these raw emotions but with time you found a way through and you treasured every time you get to see him like no one else ever would. Kissing the letter and closing it, you got up from the bed and went to start your day. Maybe you'll get Bucky alone in the kitchen.

The minute you got to the living room, your friends kidnapped you and kept you hostage, showing you guys that they want to set you up with, they talked about your dress and shoes and whatever else you couldn't find yourself to care about when you haven't seen Bucky yet.

A spring of butterflies gathered in your stomach when Bucky was finally there, coming back from a run. He smiled his beautiful smile at you and pointed his head to the kitchen which he was heading towards.

After he entered you made a half-assed excuse and went to the kitchen. You were smiling when you saw him there, immediately going for a hug which for your sadness didn't last long when you saw Clint and Steve were there too, and Sam was just entering. Murmuring a greeting to everyone, you made yourself coffee next to where Bucky stood.

At this point you were experts in hiding a relationship from spies and soldiers. No trying to whisper to each other when Steve was around; being cautious about what you are doing when the archer is in the room; talking as friends next to people and being affectionate when you were alone in a room which was alright since Bucky will know if someone is coming. So you enjoyed talking to him a bit now until Sam took him away from you, telling him about the girl he found for him.

Bucky noticed when you exited the room right after without saying a word. He wished he could get his friends to stop pushing the topic.

That was how the rest of the day went, and by the time the party started you still didn't get enough time with your boyfriend leaving you with this emptiness inside of you.

Natasha and Tony introduced you to the guy they set you up with, the guy they thought could compare to your Bucky but then again no one could compare to him.

He was nice enough, his name was Nick and he was a developer at Stark industries. Trying to keep the small talk found to be difficult especially when you spotted Bucky in the crowd being introduced to a stunning looking girl, and you couldn't help the jealousy that decided to take over your mind.

The night moved on and Bucky, being the 40s gentleman that he is, danced with the lady while you could barely focus. You wanted nothing more than to throw her into the farthest wall away from Bucky.

So settling for lightly turning Nick down, you went from him straight to the bar hoping a drink or two will help. Worst anniversary ever.

In the middle of the dance floor Bucky struggled to stay far enough from the girl in front of him without offending her and making a scene. But the girl tried getting closer to him, and there were so many people around him he didn't have anywhere to go, then he saw you sitting alone at the bar crestfallen.

Seeing his girl so sad, that did it for him. He went away from the girl and knew exactly what he was doing as he walked towards the band that was playing with a look he knew belonged to the winter soldier, it did the job as the people scrambled to get out of his way until he got up on the stand and sent the singer away, pulling the microphone out of its stand.

With one breath in he started speaking.

"Everyone I need your attention, please. Cut the music." At the sharp tone of his voice all of the music stopped and the only thing heard in the big room were the whispers in the crowd. There were more people there looking at him now than he realized, but he wouldn't let himself back down now, it was too important for him. Looking out he caught you looking at him and smiled.

"Now, there's a beautiful girl here in this room tonight and she means everything to me but I was too goddamn scared of what will happen if I admitted what I am admitting right now." He never let his eyes wander from yours. "Y/N Y/L/N I love you more than anything in this world and it's been a year since I got over my fear and finally kissed you and now, now I want the whole world to know that I'm the luckiest guy in the world to be able to call you mine. I never let myself hope, aspire, or dream that I could one day find everything I wanted in a person but then I met you and you wrecked any plan I had to stray away from love.

You're my everything, my Doll," Bucky got down from the stage and walked to you until he stood in front of you and could see the emotional unshed tears your eyes held when you got out of the chair to stand in front of him. "I'm sorry it took me this long, and believe me when I say that I wanted to show you off as mine to anyone who dared to look at you, but I was scared and now it doesn't matter."

When a tear spilled out he wiped it from your cheeks and a smile spread on your face at his touch.

"I LOVE YOU." He shouted into the microphone even when his entire world now just consisted of you and only you. He repeated it again in a whisper just for good measure. "I love you and I need you to know that you're the only one for me Doll because you've got my heart in the palm of your hand and no matter how many times I'll say it it'll still not be enough to explain my feelings towards you. I love you Y/N, and I will love you until I die, and if there's life after that I'll love you then."

Not waiting anymore you threw the microphone to the side, not caring about the noise it made when you crushed your lips into Bucky's. You felt him grin into the kiss as he wrapped his arms around you tightly.

After the quiet there were cheers in the background but you could barely hear them over the pound of your two hearts, synchronized perfectly with each other.

"Your heart is safe with me, I'll carry it with mine." It was a promise between two lovers, a secret of just the two of them, and Bucky knew he had nothing to fear when he had her.

Tags: @callmeluna @sstanbarnes @buckys-other-punk @drabblewithfrannybarnes @easygoingtheatre @that-one-person @justab-eautifulmess @onceupona-happilyeverafter @wipplogg @supraveng @bucky-the-thigh-slayer @ayybtch @kitkatd7

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #fluff #angst #little bit #valentines #writing challenge #marvel #bucky barnes fluff #happyhoelentinesday2021 #my writing #i carry your heart with me

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chalkrevelations · 3 years

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Huh.

Well, this is not the next episode reaction you were expecting, but a while back, in the middle of the night, while I was ready to cry from working on a pharmacology paper, out of nowhere, Youtube threw up Street Dance of China S3 Ep1 at me. And yeah. I am, admittedly, f’kn weak for a dance show. (There are enough SYTYCD episode reax on my old Livejournal that I feel there’s no point denying this.)

So – no, actually, wait. FIRST of all, I do NOT believe the “towel vote” we ended up being given for the opening routines from the four captains. That was the most blatant bit of bullshit chicanery I’ve seen in my LIFE, and I say this as a person with a ton of SYTYCD episode reax on my old Livejournal, and I also say this not because Wang Yibo ended up last (well, not entirely), but because I saw Wallace Chung’s routine. As someone closer in age to him than to the other three captains, I have to give him props for trying, but come on, man. The critique that Yibo got from random contestants – if the subtitles are to be believed, so I realize this needs a grain of salt - basically boiled down to “it was too good for the stage lighting.” :hands: Also, I saw your face at the reveal, Wallace, and you were as shocked as I was. No way you got more towels/votes than Wang Yibo. Not unless there’s some super wild undercurrent of nostalgia propping you up, which, I guess could happen, because literally all I know about pop culture in China, current or otherwise, is filtered through Tumblr and Youtube, both notoriously suspect, but … anyway. There’s got to be a TON of behind-the-scenes manipulation going on for Yibo to be rock-bottom with last pick of teams but then also to end up with THAT pool of possibles. Are you kidding me with this?

ANYWAY, what I wanted to say is that I actually really like Wang Yibo here, and it’s not just because he’s the only captain I have even a sliver of familiarity with, and it’s not just because Lan Wangji was banging Wei Wuxian. I do realize all of this is influenced by whatever edit they’ve decided to give a particular captain or contestant, but I’m impressed with the way Yibo immediately starts team building by getting his group into a warmup, getting them dancing together, getting them dancing with him before they have to worry about dancing for him. (I mean, come on, Jackson Wang. The way to get people to stop being nervous is not to say “Stop being nervous! It will make you fuck up!”) The way Yibo immediately recognized and responded to his group’s concerns about that one dude copying someone else’s routine probably also bought him a lot of return investment. He’s dressed to work it, in his sweats and his flannel (what IS that fake-leather TAC vest and random leg holster-looking thing, Jackson Wang?). He’s convincing me he really loves to dance, he can’t hold still while he watches the contestants, he’s wandering over into other captains’ turf when it sounds like there’s a dancer performing who he might like to see, he’s being the best Yibo he can be, and I’m grooving along, wind in my hair, totally down for this ride. He’s also adorable at the beginning when all the other captains are like, my goal for this season is to slaughter the competition and dance on their graves! And he’s like, well, I’d like to … make some friends? And learn some new stuff? I don’t know if the perpetual Humble Student schtick is natural or persona, or whether it’s general or specific to dancing, but it’s working for you, my dude. This is also made better (read: ironic), by the fact that it’s immediately before the towel reveal, when he flips over to utter disbelief and gets all sulky for a while over the “fact” that his dance routine got the least votes.

Also, OH WAIT. This is where that clip of Yibo dancing with his crew ALL OVER HIM came from that I saw floating around a few months ago, isn’t it? You’re telling me those guys had never danced together before and had like, three minutes to throw together that routine? I’m even more impressed than before. Meanwhile, the towels symbolize courage and challenge, Mr. Emcee? OK, fine, cheesy reality show blah blah whatever. Can we get to the dancing now?

I’m going to put the rest of this behind a cut, because it got super long, because it turns out, when you watch in 5-minute increments, it takes two and a half weeks to get through a single episode, but you actually can see and have opinions on all 5,328 contestants, plus every single one of the captains’ battles. Meanwhile, I’m trying to convince myself this is not going to be another series of episode reactions, but 1) I do have the benefit of not having a ton of hometown media giving me a next-day play-by-play, so even though this is six months old, everything’s a surprise; 2) I am, admittedly, f’kn weak for a dance show; and 3) it’s easy to watch in 5-minute increments between researching drug interactions in hypothetical hypertensive patients with stable ischemic heart disease, erectile dysfunction, and seasonal allergies. So, I guess we’ll see. It’ll be slow going, though, because I don’t ever have two and half hours to sit down and watch an ep cover-to-cover – if it happens, it will likely keep happening in 5-minute increments. Meanwhile, there is a metric shit-ton of nattering below the cut, so caveat lector. No, seriously, I kept adding to this little by little until it became a monster. Hashtag long post (remorseful).

OK, I am generally out of my depth here, as this is not at all my area of dance not-really-expertise, but some reactions:

Team Wang Yibo: I can see why he didn’t want to choose between Colin and Dian Men – Colin might have been a touch better technically and a better showman, but Dian Men didn’t seem to have a single wasted move – but, also, my dude. Yibo. You maybe should look a little bit less stunned and overwhelmed by the mere presence of Colin, it’s giving me ideas about your taste in men. Continuing with the powerhouses, I probably shouldn’t even attempt to critique Klash, but I did feel like he was a bit stiff in some of his footwork; that final V kick, though, shit, that’s what having that kind of upper-body strength is for. Bouboo … I mean, excellent flexibility and control, of course, but mainly I’m just terribly amused that Yibo got last pick of teams but somehow ended up with the guy who’s literal world champion, and who’s just as useful for getting into the other captains’ heads – without even trying – as he is for his talent. And then there’s a montage of Yibo giving out towel after towel after towel, and my dude, you cannot keep up this pace. There are still too many dancers to see, and you don’t have that many towels. AAANNNND Towel Battle #1 (See Footnote 1).

Team Jackson Wang: I do like Gai Gai, although that may be influenced by the fact she’s working in the twilight area between hip-hop and contemporary that I have more familiarity with - but also, I suspect she’s pretty good in her genre. I thought Xiao Jie was inconsistent and didn’t stick the landing on his initial attempt, so I have to give you that hesitation, Jackson, even though you’ve somehow ended up the villain in my inner narrative for this show, for no particular reason I can yet discern. Maybe it’s that you’re the direct competition for Yibo’s team in the towel battles. Good enough. Anyway, Xiao Jie definitely stepped up his game for the battle with Bingo, so I can kind of see why both of them got a towel, but we’re not even halfway through this, and most of y’all are giving away towels like you have an endless supply. Yang Kai is a fucking menace with fantastic musicality, and I’m just gonna say it and take the fallout - I think he gave a better performance first time out of the gate than any of Yibo’s powerhouses did. Whatever power Klash has got, whatever skill Bouboo has got, Yang Kai feels more explosive and engaging, at least in these initial showings. He’s going to be one to beat, I’d hug him too, if he was on my team and was going to help me WIN. Yibo’s probably lucky that happened during his little stroll over to check out the competition, so that he can see they’re definitely competitive and be prepared for it. Also, Jackson, I have to admit - that face you made when Chao really kicked in? That was the same face I made, because wt actual f, you have a literal secret weapon – secret because he CAME FROM NOWHERE and NO ONE EVEN KNOWS him, how is that even possible, how did he get that good – fluid, creative, controlled, incredible musicality - without anyone having any idea who he even is? And then there’s a montage of Jackson just giving out towel after towel after towel, and my dude, you need to slow down. You can’t just be like, “THEY LOVE DANCE WITH ALL OF THEIR WHOLE HEARTS!!!!1111!!!!11!” I get it, but everyone there loves dance with all of their whole hearts, and there are not enough towels to send all of them on to the next round. ANNNND, Towel Battle #1 (See Footnote 1).

Team Lay Zhang: lol at how diplomatic you’re being, Lay Zhang – your team’s fierce roar startled you, OK. At this point, I suspect you’re the street most likely to have a knife fight break out before this is all over. I do like Alex, I think he’s got a lot of interesting, super-clean details in his moves, and he’s engaging - I cannot BELIEVE you made him battle that dude whose moves were so mushy, Lay Zhang, it leaves me doubting your ability to judge this thing. At first I thought maybe you were just looking for an excuse because you wanted to see Alex freestyle, but then you actually said something about both dancers being equal, and my estimation of you plummeted, and also sadly, my sound dropped out for the actual battle, including the part where the clearly inferior dancer fell over and then accidentally POPPED ALEX ONE IN THE EYE, and I TOLD YOU SO. I do agree it’s a good idea to make dancers in the same genre do some battling, so you can kind of plan out your towels and put together a team with broad strengths, instead of giving out towels like you’re making it rain for the first 20 contestants, and then you have 1,375 more people to get through, with 3 towels left, as EVERYONE ELSE seems to be doing, so it’s nice that at least one of you guys is thinking – if not actually acting - strategically. That was clearly not even a contest, though, GIVE ALEX HIS TOWEL and send him to the next round. Xiao Bao is hilarious, with his concern that his team captain, who’s into krump, which is “beating,” isn’t going to appreciate his waacking, which is “slapping.” I also don’t know a whole lot about waacking, so thanks for the primer, Xiao Bao, and don’t worry, your performance is just as engaging for those of us who don’t know what we’re watching as you are generally. You deserve that towel for your ability to interact with and engage your audience, alone. Lingo is a good solid performance, although he’s got his team captain strategizing edited over some of it, and here’s the thing: we are 1:56:00 into this, at this point, with another half hour to go, and all of you are starting to disappear into the sea of dancers who are very good at what you do, but at generally the same level? Anyway, Lingo, I approve of your ability to interact with your audience (read: your captain) to ensure engagement, too, so keep that up. Annnd, we actually haven’t seen that much of you guys, but it’s time for Towel Battle #2 (See Footnote 2).

Team Wallace Chung: I’m glad Su Lian Ya insisted on performing, I thought she started off slow but warmed up, and that ending was creepily fantastic and had me spontaneously grinning at the screen in delight. Then we lose sight of this group for a really long time, actually. We go back to find Wallace putting through a couple of urban dancers who we barely see, but who apparently claim to have some choreography experience, and he really likes that. TI shows up, and they’re solid, but honestly, not as good in this performance as they were in some of the stock footage the show threw up to introduce them, but Wallace remains super-excited about the idea of choreography and sends at least choreographer Zhang Jiang Peng through to the next round. And then, we really haven’t seen that much of you guys, either, which maybe doesn’t bode well, but it’s time for Towel Battle #2 (See Footnote 2).

FOOTNOTE 1, aka TOWEL BATTLE ONE, Team Yibo vs. Team Jackson, 3V3 freestyle: First of all, I have to say, I love Yibo - Mr. I Just Wanna Make Some Friends And Have Some Fun - being all, “I have three crappy white towels I’m stuck with for coming in last place that I can’t use to send dancers to the next round and that I DO NOT DESERVE, and I am getting BACK the colorful towels that ARE RIGHTFULLY MINE. I am coming for whoever is in my way.” Team Yibo is Bouboo, Klash, Dian Men, and OK, given what we’ve seen so far, that’s the safe choice, but honestly, I think we’re just taking some things for granted right now, and I’m not sure they actually have given the best performances so far. Yeah, I said it. Team Jackson is Yang Kai, Chao, and Xiao Jie, and … ok, on that last one, I think you probably could have substituted Bingo, but all right. Yang Kai is a definite yes. Chao will be great if he can stay out of his own head and not psych himself out, but given what we’ve seen so far, he’s an obvious pick. First round, Yang Kai vs. Klash, and Yang Kai is still a fucking menace, with super lines. Klash definitely stepped up his game for the battle, and I can’t get over the upper body strength he’s got, to get that kind of airy bounce in his moves, but to be honest, I can’t even be mad the first round went to Yang Kai and Team Jackson. Second round, Yang Kai is still … y’all, the beautiful lines from this guy in his poses, I can’t get over them, but I think he doesn’t have the stamina, his footwork is getting sloppy. Bouboo also steps up his game for an actual battle, his fluidity and control is amazing, and yeah, round to Team Yibo. Round three, Xiao Jie gives it a decent effort, but the polish isn’t there; meanwhile Bouboo is still in champion mode, and I was kind of surprised this was a split vote and went to another round. Xiao Jie absolutely surprised me, coming back stronger on his second try, although I suppose a more familiar genre helped, but Bouboo continues in champion mode. Round four, Chao looks like he’s going to throw up right before he steps out there, and then as soon as the music starts, it’s like, he doesn’t even think. The music just moves him. I feel like his dance vocabulary is more limited than Bouboo’s, though, and Bouboo’s flow is amazing at this point, so I feel like the judges just want to drag this out and see more dancing when we go to one more round. Strong effort all around, but yeah, round four and two towels to Team Yibo. I can’t really complain about that. I do feel like Yibo’s powerhouses have been holding back until now, though, and I’m not sure how I feel about THAT.

FOOTNOTE 2, aka TOWEL BATTLE TWO, Team Zhang vs. Team Wallace, 3V3 w/ captain: lol, Team Zhang really wants someone to pick the Sailor Moon song because they know Xiao Bao and his waacking will tear it up. Anyway, Team Zhang includes Lingo and Xiao Bao, who does not get his Sailor Moon song and continues to be hilarious in his disbelief about being chosen to participate in this battle, when he’s not looking almost as sick as Chao from Team Jackson before HIS performance. Team Wallace includes Su Lian Ya – and honestly, despite how I’m getting ready to bag on him for the entire rest of this battle recap, I like that Wallace put one of his female dancers up there for the battle - and some dude named Ba that they haven’t given us any footage of, up ‘til now, at least that I can remember and who I … don’t even know has been formally given a towel and sent on to the next round, yet? Oh wait, he must have, because there’s talk in the pause for choreography about somehow using the towels during the battle. Wallace relies on Su Lian Ya and Zhang Jiang Peng to choose Ba, and then Ba ends up choreographing a lot of the performance, at least from the edit we see. I continue to feel you may be in over your head, Wallace. This feeling … is not assuaged by your performance in the first round, which is fine, but not really up to the level of almost anyone whose name I’ve bolded so far in this entire recap. Also, using the towels was a cute idea, but it doesn’t translate well, and Team Wallace has a lot of wasted time throwing the towels around instead of actually. You know. Dancing. Lingo gets a credible solo during Team Zhang’s performance, and even though Xiao Bao is clearly lost during a good bit of his backup dancer duties, he manages not to throw up, which – given this team’s general skill level – should be enough to give them the first round, EXCEPT SOMEHOW Team Wallace gets the point from the judges, who then try to justify this inexplicable decision by saying Team Wallace had better interaction, I guess because of the hot mess with throwing the towels around, but adding that Team Zhang was more scattered, which what? More scattered than the hot mess with the towels? I’m not buying this. I can’t tell if they’re propping up Wallace or fucking with Lay Zhang’s head, but I’m having bad acid flashbacks to the many and varied ways dance show judges will try to gaslight you, telling you that things you just saw with your very own eyes did not actually happen when it’s right there! On camera! Visible, despite whatever edit bs you’re pulling! ANYWAY, they’re definitely managing to fuck with not only Lay Zhang’s head, but Xiao Bao’s, and Xiao Bao still doesn’t seem to have his choreography down, but they manage to pull it together enough to take the second round, which to be honest is kind of a muddled mess on everyone’s part. The only one who really stands out to me on this go’round is Su Lian Ya, but OK, Team Zhang might have had it slightly more together as a unit. And then, yeah, OK, I think they were fucking with Lay Zhang’s head, because we then find out that, holy shit, the song the show powers-that-be chose for the tie-breaking third round is that gd Sailor Moon song, and we can all see the writing on the wall. Poor Team Wallace is no match for Xiao Bao, who frankly, carries this entire round on his shoulders without breaking a sweat and barely needs any backup dancers to do it. There’s some ridiculously dramatic reveal of scoring, with the judges dragging out their decisions like this was any actual contest - I’m beginning to suspect that some of them grew up with Wallace Chung posters on their bedroom walls - but finally, round and towel to Team Zhang.

Cut to a little bit of Next Time On, and wow, the first two-and-a-half-hour episode is over, and we aren’t finished with the initial round yet. It’s gonna be Christmas before I make it halfway through this season.

#street dance of china #sdoc episode reax #should i put yibo in the tags for this?#sure #i guess #wang yibo #anyone else?

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nbrook29 · 3 years

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love you to the moon and to saturn

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

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Warnings: mild sexual content

* * *

Saturday, 10:00

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

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

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

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

Two seconds later he knew.

He didn’t need to worry.

Sunday 13:00

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

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

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

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

“Exactly!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Saturday, 18:00 (flashback to last night)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sander was right yesterday. Of course he was.

He knows he has some more apologies to give.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It may take a while.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You should reach out to them, tonight.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

And, fuck. They’re both idiots.

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

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

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

They’re gonna be fine.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sunday, 18:00

Sander: And?

Robbe: And what?

Sander: Was I right?

Robbe: About?

Sander: About your friends

Robbe: Kinda

Sander: So it means I was 😎

Robbe: :):):) yes

Sander: Thank you sander

Robbe: Thank you sander

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

Robbe: 🙄

Robbe: Precious srsly?

Sander: So precious 🥰

Robbe: Omg

Sander: Haha

Robbe: We're good 😊

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

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

Robbe: Dork ❤

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

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

Robbe: A g a i n *yawn*

Sander: They have good taste 🤷♂️

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

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

Robbe: 🥴

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

Robbe: You always tickle me when you want sth

Robbe: You're full of corny jokes

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

Robbe: You hog the covers

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

Sander: Okay first of all

Sander: Wow

Sander: Don't hold back 🥺

Sander: Second of all

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

Robbe: That's what they all say 💔

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

Robbe: Well you did 🙈 but I still remember 😝

Sander: Also you love my jokes

Sander: They're awesome 🤧

Robbe: I'm just messing around 😘😘

Sander: 🥰

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

Sander: What haha 😂

Robbe: I mean they are but like

Robbe: Chill girl he's not your man 🤨

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

Robbe: And don't you forget that

Thursday, 3:48

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck.

Thursday, 13:08

*photo attached*

Sander: Good morning x

Robbe: Heeyy sleepyhead 😘

Robbe: You look cute

Sander: I had very interesting dreams last night

Robbe: Oh yeah?

Sander: Yeah I'm still affected by them 😏

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

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

Robbe: Can't wait 😘

Sander: Today at 16 my time right?

Robbe: Yep :)

Robbe: You know

Sander: Hmm?

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

Sander: 🥵🥵🥵

Sander: Do tell

Robbe: 🙈

Sander: Now I’m super intrigued 😈

Robbe: How about I tell you tonight

Robbe: With details

Robbe: Lots of them

Sander: Tonight can't come fast enough 😩

Sander: Looks like I will though 😏

Robbe: Omg you're such a dork 😂

Sander: Did it get u hot

Robbe: No wtf 😂

Sander: ☹🥺

Sander: Kay

Sander: I have to get up now

Sander: I'm late 🙄

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

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

Sander: Ugh fine 🙄

Sander: I love you ❤

Robbe: ❤

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

Robbe: Haha

Sander: Come on

Robbe: 🤐

Sander: Robbe

Robbe: Gotta go 😌

Sander: Okay then 😔💔

Robbe: I love you too idiot ❤❤❤💯

Sander: Yesss 🥰

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

Robbe: 😂 go to class!!!

Sander: I'm going I'm going

Friday, 19:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You should visit him.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

December 7th, 22:00

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

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

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

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

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

Nineteen hours.

#wtfock

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imaginaryelle · 4 years

Link

I realized a few weeks ago that I made my first posts in this fandom, both on tumblr and on AO3, in November last year. Happy anniversary fic! Many thanks to @morphia-writes for the title suggestion.

This established relationship/early relationship wangxian, set post-CQL.

Read it on AO3 or below the cut!

One year after leaving Gusu, Wei Wuxian meets Lan Wangji at an inn on the border between Yunmeng and Yiling.

It’s not their first meeting—there have been a few night hunts when Lan Wangji happened to be nearby, a few arguably chance encounters when Lan Wangji arrived somewhere Wei Wuxian had just not quite left, in the days before some all-important meeting between the Chief Cultivator and a local sect leader. Perhaps two handfuls of moments, all together, as the spring passed into summer, and summer to autumn, autumn to winter and winter back to spring again.

Lan Wangji has reserved a room, and ordered food—local flavors to Wei Wuxian’s taste, steaming in the cool night and red with chilies—and has produced two bottles of wine and brewed what Wei Wuxian is certain is the best tea the Lan Sect buys, which is very good tea indeed.

“Lan Zhan,” he says as he finishes the meal, “You spoil me, really.”

Lan Wangji says nothing, but he looks so quietly, smugly pleased that Wei Wuxian laughs.

“You look like you’re getting away with something, Lan Zhan,” he says. “Does your uncle know you're spending Lan funds on me? Does he know you’ve bought me wine?”

It’s Emperor’s Smile, because of course Lan Wangji would just have a pair of bottles ready, even though Wei Wuxian knows he’s been traveling for weeks now, putting out little metaphorical fires and one real, actual fire, almost since the moment the Spring Festival ended.

“Uncle is not here,” Lan Wangji says, which isn’t anything like an answer and they both know it.

“Mn,” Wei Wuxian agrees, because he wasn’t really looking for an answer anyway. “Just us here.” An illusion—there are other people in the inn itself, of course—but an illusion helped along by silencing talismans on the shared walls and the door. It’s not quite as quiet as the Jingshi in Cloud Recesses, but it’s close.

Lan Wangji looks back at him and softens in that small, sudden way that always makes Wei Wuxian feel like his heart’s trying to climb out through his mouth. Not just—informal and relaxed for the evening, the way he was when Wei Wuxian arrived, but present. Open and bared like a flower whose petals have just unfolded.

Wei Wuxian wants to cradle Lan Wangji’s face between his hands and pull the last of his ribbons out of his hair, wants to kiss every part of his face, and then the palms of his hands and his knuckles and the pulse in his wrists, and then see if there’s any other skin he can manage to reach.

It is unfortunate that he is still seated on the other side of a dark-lacquered dining table, his hands already occupied with a wine cup. He sets it down with a soft click and that’s it. That’s enough to break the moment. Lan Wangji goes back to looking like he’s maybe enjoying a quiet evening after a long day instead of like he’s made of light and warmth and eggshells.

Wei Wuxian throws himself around the table, ending with his head in Lan Wangji’s lap. He’s the shameless one in this—whatever they’re doing, it’s not fair that Lan Wangji can make him feel like he’s going to come unraveled from more than arm’s-reach away and then turn it off.

“Lan Zhan,” he whines, “You can’t look at me like that, it’s too much, I can’t stand it.”

Lan Wangji hums thoughtfully and brushes hair out of Wei Wuxian’s face. The quirk of his lips is insufferably amused.

Wei Wuxian pouts at him

“What if I want to spoil you sometime, hmm?”

It’s difficult to do, both because Lan Wangji has so few things he actually lets himself be attached to, and because he’s rarely content to sit idle while others act. Wei Wuxian has tried, twice before, to spoil him for an evening, and both times he’s fairly certain Lan Wangji was merely indulging him rather than actually enjoying the experience.

There’s a difference. He hasn’t been able to explain the difference even to himself yet, but he knows it matters.

Lan Wangji finds his hand and squeezes his fingers.

“Wei Ying is here,” he says, and the look on his face—as if Wei Wuxian’s mere presence is in any way comparable to the effort and care Lan Wangji has put into this evening so far—Wei Wuxian turns and buries his face in Lan Wangji’s side, which probably does nothing to hide his blush in the end. He can feel his ears burning.

“Lan Zhan,” he groans, dragging out the second syllable. “You—” He sits up. “At least let me comb your hair,” he asks, because it’s the one thing he knows Lan Wangji really does enjoy having someone else do for him. Hair combing. That’s what he has.

“If you wish to,” Lan Wangji says, which is so not the point, and then he reaches up to start undoing his topknot himself. Wei Wuxian grabs at his hands.

“I want to,” he agrees. “But we could be somewhere more—come sit on the bed,” he suggests, tugging on Lan Wangji’s hands as he sits up, then stands.

Lan Wangji has that terrible amused tilt to his mouth again, but he stands and walks obediently to the bed, and waits while Wei Wuxian rummages through his bags for a comb and tries to find the most comfortable position for them both.

He does relax as Wei Wuxian undoes his topknot and starts drawing his fingers through his hair. The blue hair ribbon and white forehead ribbon are carefully wound into small coils and set safely aside, and then Wei Wuxian presses his fingertips to Lan Wangji’s temples and draws them slowly back, dragging light circles over his brow and the crown of his head and down, behind his ears to the point at the back that always aches when Wei Wuxian himself spends too long hunched over books and letters, and then down again, to the base of his neck. He sweeps the motion out to Lan Wangji’s shoulders and then starts again, just a spark of spiritual energy in the touch to smooth away the cares of the day.

Lan Wangji sighs, a quiet note of tension released, and Wei Wuxian smiles to himself. He sets his fingers on that same path again and again, until a quick glance at Lan Wangji’s face reveals his eyes closed and his lips parted, the strain around his brow and mouth loosened.

He starts combing at the ends of Lan Wangji’s hair, working out small snarls as he moves upwards. It’s soothing work. Meditative. Sometimes he thinks Lan Wangji does meditate when they do this, but not tonight, or at least, not in any visibly discernible way. He even relaxes again, just a little more, his shoulders drooping just slightly, as Wei Wuxian reaches the top of his head.

There’s a while where the only sounds in the room are the slide of the comb through smooth hair and the slow pulse of their breathing. Wei Wuxian keeps steady, light pressure on the comb, another round of massage for Lan Wangji’s scalp, and counts the strokes until he passes one hundred.

Lan Wangji lets him get all the way into the one-twenties before he straightens slightly and turns to tug the comb from Wei Wuxian’s hands.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian protests, “you really needn’t—”

Lan Wangji is looking down at the comb. There’s a hint of puzzlement to the expression.

Wei Wuxian looks. The rest of his protest dies on his tongue.

The comb in Lan Wangji’s hand is not his usual peachwood comb with the lotus flowers motif; The one Lan Wangji watched him buy in Yunmeng, over a year ago, before they’d started on their separate paths. No. This is the other one. Sandalwood. A pair of cranes in flight. The one Wei Wuxian has been holding onto for three months now, cradling it between his hands on long evenings with no one but Little Apple for company and thinking—wondering—

The merchant had said his young lady was very lucky to have such a beautiful gift in store, and up until that moment Wei Wuxian hadn’t even thought—he’d just seen it, as he passed by, and the sandalwood reminded him of Lan Wangji and quiet evenings in the Jingshi, and the cranes had reminded him of a summer morning when he’d woken as Lan Wangji slid out of their shared blankets, and he’d watched him stand against the sunrise, white robes and black hair limned in dawnlight and he’d thought, yeah. Forever.

“You can keep it, if you want,” he blurts. And then he keeps talking as Lan Wangji looks at him, that hint of confusion still pulling between his brows.

“I bought it for you,” he admits, “I just—”

He waves his hands, trying to encompass the small comfort it had brought him in lonely places even as fear had grown under his ribs, and the whole tangled mess of how forever meant something different when only one of you had a golden core, meant something different when you were living such different lives—but always with the same goals, so it was still the same, somehow—

Lan Wangji looks down at the comb again.

“Thank you,” he says, and his face does that thing again—a slight softening. Light and warmth and the fragility of eggshells.

Wei Wuxian kisses him, because he’s close enough to do it this time, kisses his eyebrow and his cheekbone and his lips as if that can make up for the words that crowd under his breastbone, unspoken and smothering with the bound-together weight of Thank you and I want and please.

It’s not fair to ask when he has so little to offer. That was the conclusion he’d come to, those nights watching firelight flicker over carved wooden cranes—so perfectly paired, so equally matched. He won’t ask until he has something more—a golden core, or a home, or a promise that doesn’t feel like it will fall to ashes as soon as it leaves his tongue.

“Lan Zhan,” he says, his lips moving against the flushing skin of Lan Wangji’s jaw, “Don’t you know how much I like you?”

It’s enough, for now, that Lan Wangji hums against his temple and nips kisses that are half teeth down his neck, that Lan Wangji’s hands wind into his layers and pull at his belt, that he says Wei Ying like it means something more than just a name.

It’s enough, for now.

#wangxian #wangxian fic #the untamed #cql #chen qing ling #lan wangji #wei wuxian #alex writes

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alwaysachorusgirl · 3 years

Text

Things Remembered

Pairing: Loki x Female reader (who is more than she seems)

fandom: MCU (takes place post-Thor: The Dark World)

word count: 1,921

TW: brief mentions of death, mostly hurt/comfort, some angst, a bit of romance

Notes: My first fan fic on Tumblr! This was inspired by a dream I had where I was wandering through an abandoned Marvel themed amusement park. The imagery was so vivid that the next day I was searching Google to find out if it was a real place. It’s not, but I did learn about a lot of other abandoned amusement parks in the US, Europe, and Japan, and looked at a lot of creepy pictures. Comments/Constructive Criticism are welcome! Otherwise, please enjoy!

I starred up at the chained wrought-iron gates of the old abandoned amusement park. I still wasn’t entirely sure what it was that had drawn me here, but I knew, deep down, that it was important. I had seen it my dreams, or were they visions? I wasn’t sure anymore. Even my memories weren’t reliable. There were the ones that were mine, and then there were the ones that weren’t, but they felt so real, like things that had happened. But if that was the case, why didn’t I remember them happening to me, in my lifetime? It was almost as if they belonged to someone else, in another life, in another time.

I peered through the bars into the front entrance of the park. The building that had once served as the box office was boarded up. Most of the paint had chipped away, and it looked like moss and mold were growing in spots. The roof looked like one strong gust of wind would be enough to tear it off.

I turned my attention to the gate and the padlocked chain that was supposed to be holding it shut. I’d done my research beforehand and knew from various urban explorer blogs that breaking in would be the easy part. I reached up and grabbed onto the iron bars, pushing one side of the gate away from me and the other side towards me. The chain didn’t put up any resistance and soon there was an opening big enough for me to slip between. I was in.

The ground was squishy under my feet from the morning’s rain. The skies above were still gray and threatening to storm. I shivered and pulled my coat tighter around me. I gave myself kudos for remembering to wear an old pair of boots. At least my feet would stay warm and dry. I glanced at remains of the park around me and started walking, making a point of staying alert and keeping an eye out for other trespassers.

It wasn’t long before I was approaching what used to be the Grand Fountain. The standing water that was still the fountain reeked of mold and mildew. The old white marble was cracked and crumbling. What a shame, I thought, I used to throw pennies in this fountain. I looked up at the hand painted billboard above the fountain. It was faded, but I could still make out the image of an older, white haired gentleman, with a salt and pepper mustache and glasses. Next to his smiling face were the words: “Excelsior, True Believers!” The man had once been the park’s founder and owner. After he had died the park had been sold to a group of investors. They had promised all sorts of updates and renovations, but none of it had ever materialized, and the park had fallen further into disrepair and debt, until it had been closed for good.

Next, I passed by the bumper cars. I stopped again, sighing gloomily at the sight of it. The cars were all sitting haphazardly in the middle of the floor. Red and gold, purple and green, red, white, and blue, and my favorite, the red and black one; all completely unmoving. It just didn’t feel right, none of this did. I forced myself to turn away and keep moving deeper into the park, closer to my ultimate destination.

A few minutes later I saw it, the Ferris Wheel, aka The Galactus. Painted purple and blue, it has once been the centerpiece of the park. Whatever voice had been calling to me in my dreams, it had been calling me from here. And then, almost as if someone had flipped a switch, the Ferris Wheel lit up and music began to play. It was now or never. I walked up to the entrance of the ride, and that’s when I saw him.

He was tall, with long black hair and a regal air about him. His face was angular and handsome in an other-worldly sense. His eyes, oh his eyes, they were piercing, haunting; I could get lost in those eyes. He smiled when he saw me and held out a hand to me.

“Welcome, my darling, so glad you finally made it. Won’t you step aboard?” He gestured with his other hand towards an open pod on the Ferris Wheel.

“It’s you,” I breathed, “you’re the voice that’s been calling to me.” I was sure I’d never met this man before, but he seemed so familiar, felt so familiar. I trusted him, I felt safe with him. I took his hand and let him pull me up onto the ride’s platform. It was strong, yet gentle. I gazed into his eyes as he lifted it to his lips and kissed it.

“My beloved, I’ve searched for you for so long,” he said, gazing back into my eyes. I followed him into the pod and sat down on the cold metal seat, He seated himself across from me, and closed the door. I heard the click of the metal lock latching shut, and then lurched forward as the Ferris Wheel began to move. My companion quickly reached out and grabbed my arm to steady me. “It’s alright my love, it’s quite safe. I would never allow any harm to come you.”

“Who are you?” I demanded, finally finding my voice. “What’s going on? How do you know me? Why do I feel like I know, even though I’m pretty bloody sure that I’ve never met you before?”

“All your questions will be answered, my love, but first, let me ask you: have you been having troubling dreams? Perhaps snippets of memory that aren’t necessarily yours, and yet, they feel like they are?”

“How do you know about that?”

“Oh, my dear,” he replied with a chuckle, “I know everything about you; who you were before, every life you’ve lived along the way up until now; every time I’ve gotten so close to reaching you, only to have death rip you away from me… tell me, do you believe in curses? Magic? Reincarnation?”

“I…I don’t know…maybe? A little? What does that have to do with anything?”

The Ferris Wheel suddenly stopped, with the two of us now stuck at the top. I had a moment of panic, looking down at the ground, and then back at the dark-haired man. He took my hand and held it between both of his.

“Calm yourself, my love, it’s fine. I just want to talk to you.”

“Fine?!” I cried. “How the bloody hell is this fine? Who are you? What do you want with me?”

“I want you to remember who you really are,” he said, and then, placing a hand under my chin, “Search your mind. Surely, you must remember me; you must remember us, and Camelot.”

“Camelot? Every UK child knows the stories of Camelot,” I told him. “My own memories are...confusing. It feels like there’s a wall around my mind. But there are cracks in that wall, and whenever I try to look between the cracks, that’s when I see things… I see me, living other lives. I have different names and different clothes, but it’s always me.” I raised my eyes to meet his. “I really do feel like I know you. I feel some strange connection with you, and I feel like it’s right there…like the answer is right there where the wall is, but I can’t break through to it.”

“That’s it!” he exclaimed. “The wall in your mind! Break the wall, break the curse! It’s already falling apart, so in theory, one good wrecking ball should be enough to shatter it. Oh Merlin, you lazy bastard, you let your own curse grow weak with time.” He pulled my face close so that it was merely centimeters from his. “I’m going to tell you something, and it’s going to sound insane, impossible even, but I swear that every word is true. Do you trust me?” I nodded, tears starting to fall down my face. He gently brushed one away with his thumb. “Good. The truth is, that in your first life, your real life, you are Morgana Pendragon, half sister to Arthur, rightful Queen upon the throne of Camelot, my one true love, mother of our children, the most powerful sorceress that ever lived. I need you to remember! Wake up, Morgana! Wake up!”

He placed his fingers on my temples and something inside my head snapped. I felt the mental wall shatter and was blinded by a shining gold and green light. My head snapped back. Excruciating pain swept through me and I felt a scream escape my throat. And then I felt myself rising into the air. I heard the rumble of thunder above me and pain in my body was replaced by a strange, yet oh so familiar energy. And I remembered. I remembered everything.

One memory flashed after another: Camelot, Loki, my brother Arthur, and Merlin. Bloody fucking Merlin. His and my brother’s betrayal shown most vividly. That betrayal that had led to the slaughter of my two beautiful sons, and my own death at the stake. Merlin has cursed me while I burned, cursed me to be reborn over and over again, and die young if any inkling of my former life dared to bleed through. But as any well-versed magic wielder will tell you, curses will weaken if not maintained by the caster. Centuries has gone by, and every year Merlin’s curse had grown weaker, and little by little, the cracks had begun to form. And now my bonds were broken. I knew who I was, and I felt my magic flowing through me again as I levitated above the Ferris Wheel.

I was shocked out of my reverie, and thrown out of the sky, when a bolt of lightning broke through the storm clouds and hit me square in the back. I fell, but instead of hitting the ground I was caught but a pair of strong, comforting arms. I looked up to see my lover’s face looking back at me, full of deep concern.

“My love, Morgana, are you alright?”

“Loki?” I inquired, my voice shaking. “Is it really you?”

“Yes, my love, it’s me. I’m here, I’ve got you now, you’re safe,” he answered, a soft smile playing on his lips.

“You found me,” I said, reaching up and caressing his cheek with my fingertips.

“Of course, I found you,” he replied, “I never gave up hope that we would be together again. I swear that I’ll never let anyone take you from me again.” His lips met mine in the most loving of kisses. He was mine, and I was his, and no one would ever tear us apart again. But a question was still rolling around in my brain, and when we broke apart, I looked him straight in the eye and voiced it aloud:

“Loki, where the bloody hell is Merlin?”

TO BE CONTINUED?

Post Credits Scene:

Somewhere, on a small Mediterranean island, sat an older gentleman drinking espresso in a café. He was actually much older than he looked, but you wouldn’t think it to look at him. The darkening clouds and a rumble of thunder drew his eyes skyward. The energy in the air around him changed, and his brow furrowed. And then he felt it: a curse, specifically his curse, had at long last been broken. She was awake, and she would be coming for his head…

#loki x reader #loki x female reader #loki #mcu #loki fan fiction #thor the dark world #camelot #morgan le fay #morgana #merlin

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billyhargrove-imagines · 4 years

Text

Kindred Outsiders: Pt. 1

Pairings: Billy Hargrove x OC

Warnings: Cursing

Word Count: 2374

A/N: Hello! This story was originally posted on my fanfiction.com account but I decided to bring it to tumblr as well :) Anyhow, this story is going to take place in the beginning of summer & will later lead up to the events starting in the beginning of season 3. Gif used isn’t mine. Enjoy!

Indiana is…different.

I moved out here merely two weeks ago from Los Angeles, California. My father died from a plane crash over a month ago. He was on his way home from a business trip. My mother, on the other hand, isn't in the picture because she passed away from cancer 5 years ago. I was 15 years old at the time.

I couldn't stand being alone in my father's mansion any longer. It just wasn't the same without him. It caused me nothing but pain having to enter a home where I am not greeted a simple 'hello' from my father. Dinners were always lonely so I ended up resorting to going out with friends almost every night for dinner, followed by drinking at home from my father's in-home bar.

When it came around to bedtime, I felt a pit in my stomach whenever I passed my father's office and didn't see the light shining under the crack of the door. He always worked in his office late.

One day I made a bold move by giving my aunt Joyce a call and moved in with her in Indiana a month after the incident. Aunt Joyce is my father's sister.

Her small house is nothing compared to mine and lacked the useless amenities I was used to. But I didn't care. Living here so far with her, Will and Jonathan was much better than living back in California all alone. Sure, I had friends but it doesn't compare to family.

Since I am an only child of my parents, I inherited all of their money. I also made a selfless decision and paid off my aunt's mortgage. When I told her the news, I was thanked with a slap across the face followed by a tight hug. She never wanted any handouts from my parents in the past and still doesn't til this day.

It is 1pm and I just clocked out for my short shift at this clothing store in the starcourt mall. Yes, I have a great amount of money in my bank account, but I still wanted to keep myself occupied by working a part time job. I didn't want to just sit on my ass all day. Especially since I still don't know what I want to do for my career. I am 20 years old and time is ticking, but I don't want to waste my time and money on schooling when I don't know what the hell I want to do yet.

After every shift I've been stopping by the ice cream shop, Scoops Ahoy and I always see the same duo, Steve and Robin. I've become quite acquainted with them and I learned so far that they're fresh out of high school.

"Let me guess, rocky road?" Steve said with a grin.

"You know me too well, Steve." I replied with a smile, stretching my arm out to hand him cash.

"God Steve. Just ask her out already." Robin added, rolling her eyes playfully and crossing her arms over her chest as she leaned against the back counter.

"Can you not?" Steve snapped his head at Robin, cheeks flushed red.

"Very funny, Robin." I let out a chuckle and waved goodbye to the duo as I licked my delicious ice cream on my way out.

As usual, I took my time walking through the mall. I wanted to make sure I finished my ice cream before I arrived to my car and headed home. A variety of families, couples and friends seemed to be enjoying their shopping trips. Though word on the news is that many local business owners are enraged about the mall being built due to losing business.

A familiar female voice snapped me out of my thoughts. "Hi Victoria!" Aria, my eccentric coworker greeted me, her shoulder-length blonde hair bouncing as she kept up to my steps.

"Hey Aria, I thought you're off today?" I asked, still enjoying my ice cream.

"Yeah I was just shopping around for a gift for my mom's birthday next week." She briefly lifted the shopping bag in her hand. "Did you just get off or are you on lunch?"

"Um, I just got off."

"Yay! I'm going to the pool after this. Join me so I'm not alone!" She suggested. "There's also this hot hot hot lifeguard they hired last week. I went to school with him!"

"Okay sure. But I'm not really into that."

"Come on, Victoria." Aria groaned. "I know you don't have any plans today."

"No I meant the hot lifeguard or whatever. Not into that." I gave a dismissive wave of my hand before taking a generous lick of my ice cream.

"Oh. You're into girls? So sorry. I didn't know."

I snorted in amusement, but internally I was rolling my eyes at her. She's always been quick to make assumptions.

"No no no. I like boys." I made known. "I just don't care to drool over a piece of meat. But I'm down to take a dip in the pool."

"Oh! Okay. Sorry. Sorry again."

"It's fine Aria," I dragged. "I'm gonna go home and change out of this and I'll meet you there."

"Yay! Okay bye!" Aria shouted with glee before going our separate ways. She sure can be annoyingly hyper sometimes, but she's the only real girlfriend I've made here so far. Robin is always working and when she is off, she's always busy doing god knows what.

Like clockwork, my ice cream was finished off before I made it outside to my car. Or should I say my late father's black 1984 Porsche 911. It's quite showy for someone who now lives in Indiana, but this car was my father's baby. I'm never letting go of this.

The Rubberband Man by The Spinners blasted on my stereo as I drove to Aunt Joyce's house. Music from the 70s has always stuck with me. On my face are my favorite pair of black aviator sunglasses.

After a moment of driving down the familiar roads, I pull into the front of my aunt's house. I take the keys out of the ignition, remove my aviators, hop out of my car and enter the non vacant home. "Hey Jonathan." I greeted my cousin who is watching television on the couch with a full plate and fork in his hands.

"Hey there, Vic. You're home early." He said with a full mouth. I hummed in response before scurrying to my bedroom.

I searched through my dresser drawers until I found the perfect bikini for my mood, which is a two piece. I paired my black cheeky bottoms with a neon green strapless top. After quickly peeling off my work attire and slipping into my bikini, I made sure to at least cover up my ass cheeks with denim shorts before throwing on a pair of sandals.

Now I am out the door, tossing my bag of pool essentials in the passenger seat and making sure not to forget my aviators. The sun is at its peak and I am ready to cool off.

Minutes later I pull into the parking lot of the community pool for the first time since moving down here. I've driven past it plenty of times but never had the need to go yet until Aria randomly invited me.

Exiting my car with my bag under my arm and my aviators on, I hear various sounds at a short distance of people enjoying themselves in the water.

The sun is beaming down at me as I'm making my way through the gate, glancing around until I find Aria. "Victoria! Hey!" She shouted with glee, waving her hand. I found her lying on the pool lounger.

"Hey Aria." I greeted, placing my bag on the ground.

"Go on in the pool if you want. I'm waiting for him to show up for his shift. It should be any moment now!"

"Really?" Sitting down at the foot of the empty pool lounger, I shook my head at Aria in disapproval.

She scoffed. "Oh don't give me that look, Victoria." I shook my head at her, dropping my shorts and tossing it in my bag.

Aria let out a gasp out of the blue, sitting up straight. "Speaking of Billy. There he is!"

"Where?" I asked, casually pulling a flask out of my bag. I'm not an alcoholic and I don't plan to get plastered, but a little buzz is well deserved.

Aria doesn't respond. Instead, I scan my surroundings until I spotted the only male lifeguard walking the grounds to my left. He is tastefully shirtless, wearing red swim shorts, a whistle necklace and brown aviator shades. His dirty blonde hair is styled into a mullet, which surprisingly fits his face perfectly.

Billy's head snapped my direction as I'm taking a swig out of my whiskey filled flask. I couldn't tell if he was directly looking at me due to the shades masking his eyes, but all of the women's eyes were on him. And by the swagger of his steps, I can tell he's reveling in it.

"Eh." I shrugged my shoulders, once Billy passed me and sat comfortably in the lifeguard chair. "He's alright." I lied.

From his perfectly tanned skin to his flawlessly sculpted muscles, it's as if his body was made by angels. Even from a distance, I could see that his plump lips could lose any woman in his kiss. But no, I had to feign being unimpressed because a man that looks like that is bad news for me.

"Are you freaking kidding me?" She briskly pulled her sunglasses off, shooting me a look of disgust.

"Are your sunglasses blinding you?"

I snorted. "Nope. I can see perfectly clear."

"Ugh! If you think that Billy Hargrove is just alright, then I don't even want to know what kind of men you consider perfect." Aria mentioned seriously to me as she laid back and placed her sunglasses back on.

"Don't care. I'm going for a dip." I threw my flask back inside my bag before rising to my feet towards the pool to swim a few laps.

Stroking through the water, there is no one alive who can stop me. It's a moment like this that makes me miss the beaches in California. But I close my eyes and lose myself, pretending that's exactly where I am.

Unaware how long I've been swimming to and fro, I do one more lap before I take a break and reward myself with another sip of whiskey.

As I am motioning out of the water and my feet are planted onto the cement, a deep, male voice captures my attention. "Here."

I look and it is the stud himself, Billy Hargrove handing me a towel. "Oh thanks." I accepted with a soft smile, almost hesitant because I have a towel in my bag but I didn't want to seem rude.

I begin pat drying my long, black hair with the towel and begin sauntering towards my designated pool lounger, but Billy halts me, "Hey sweetheart." I spun around to face him with furrowed brows. "What's your name?" He asked, removing his glasses to reveal his annoyingly beautiful, blue eyes.

"Victoria. And you?" I asked even though I already know.

"The name's Billy." He said, randomly placing a piece of gum in his mouth which caused me to catch a glance at his lips, then to his abs and back to his eyes. I swear I saw the corner of his lip quirk up when he caught me. "Nice to meet ya Victoria."

"You too Billy." The sun was so hot that I didn't even need to dry off my body anymore. Instead, I threw the towel over my shoulder.

"Am I mistaken or is this your first time here?" He asked, smacking his gum as he's indiscreetly giving me an elevator look.

"No you're right." Before Billy had the chance to speak any further, I pointed behind him towards the pool. "Hey, I think there's a kid drowning over there."

Just as I predicted, he cautiously looked over his shoulder and that's when I made a beeline towards my pool lounger next to Aria.

"You. Dumb. Bitch." Aria remarked with obvious displeasure as I'm searching for my flask. "I can't be friends with you anymore."

"What now, Aria?"

"Billy the hottie was obviously into you and you blew it! Ugh, the things I'd do to be in your shoes right now."

"Oh please. He's just another pretty boy that wants one thing." I implied before taking a sip. "Go over there and talk to him yourself then." Flickering my eyes, I am now seeing that Billy's back on his lifeguard chair.

"Um no. If Billy wants somebody, Billy always makes the first move. Do I look like I want to embarrass myself right now?"

"If you say so." I said, readjusting the pool lounger so that it was flat and I lied on my stomach, using my arms as a makeshift pillow. "Can you rub sunscreen on me and wake me up in 30. I'm taking a nap."

Being the good friend that she is, Aria stole the sunscreen from my bag and did as I asked. She knows I'd do the same for her.

"I know you can't see right now," she started after a minute of no words exchanged, "but he's looking over here. Probably at your ass." She paused. "I wouldn't blame him though."

She's right. I do have a nice ass.

"Billy can stare all he wants. What do I care?" I uttered lazily, eyes closed and ready to sleep.

"You're insane! If I can't have him, then can you have him for me? And tell me if it is big!" She whisper shouted, rubbing the last bit of sunscreen needed on me.

"Im not having sex with anyone, Aria. Especially not him. I'm taking my nap now."

Billy is just another handsome face with a Calvin Klein body which doesn't impress me because it seems like he's used to getting any woman he wants. But I'm not any other woman, so he can use that charm on the next one for all I care.

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove fluff #dacre montgomery #stranger things #steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #joe keery #robin buckley #maya hawke #jonathan byers #joyce byers

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sanscestships · 4 years

Text

“Deal” DS!Crossberry-Guardian/Destroyer Headcanon (Oneshot, DS!CrossxDS!Blue)

Created on: 10/26/20

Requested by: No one. I got bored again and wanted to do a rare pair while making things more interesting while doing DreamSwap (by onebizarrekai btw you should go check them out. i know they have a tumblr for sure)

as for the "Guardian/Destroy Headcanon" part. There's a headcanon that Cross is the guardian of the AUs and Blue is the destroyer of AUs because their swapped with Ink and Error. While canonically this is not true, there's a headcanon and i decided to try it out.

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

Cross was ticked as hell. No, he was livid.

Once again, he went to Taco Bell, ate his tacos, Blue had drugged the tacos somehow, he fell asleep, he woke up, and several AUs were destroyed while he was passed out.

He didn't know HOW that annoying blue scarfed destroyer kept doing it, but he needed to find a way to stop it.

Obviously, he had absolutely no intention of stop ordering from Taco Bell. He and the rest of the Meme Squad loved the tacos from Taco Bell and would absolutely live off it along with chocolate. And not ALL of the tacos he got from there were drugged by Blue.

Unfortunately, this also made it difficult for him to know if he should eat a taco or not.

No, he couldn't get one of his friends to try it. He was NOT going to risk Error or Nightmare getting knocked out because he didn't want to eat a taco himself. No he wasn't going to ask a stranger to test taste for him either. No, again, he wasn't going to stop eating Taco Bell tacos.

Then he decided he was going to go to Blue's house in Outertale, kick the fucking door down, beat the shit out of that annoying flirt, and make him stop drugging his GOD DAMN TACOS HE JUST WANTS TO EAT IN PEACE!

With that plan in mind, he quickly made a portal to the small house they all shared. If he didn't come back, he at least wanted his friends to know where he was. Stepping into the wooden floor of their kitchen, he spotted Error drinking coffee again-WAIT HOLY SHIT ERROR WAS DRINKING COFFEE AGAINASGOHISGHASOGIRHAGAERIOG-

"Error!" And it was at the moment Error knew. He fucked up. "I thought Night and I said no more drinking coffee after 4:00 PM! It's fucking 9:37. Wait a sec- DID THAT INK DOUCHEBAG DO SOMETHING TO YOU? I SWEAR I'M GONNA-"

"NONONONONONONO!" The hooded cinnamon roll quickly put the mug down, stepping between me and the door with his arms flailing around. "It's fine it's fine! I just felt like drinking coffee I swear! Ink has nothing to do with it!"

Sighing in relief that the emo bastard hadn't touched the bean, he proceeded to pretend nothing important was going to happen. "I just came over to say that I'm going to Blue's to kick his ass. If I don't come back, it means I did not kick Blue's ass. Okay?"

"Do you want us to come with you?" Error had that look on his face again. The one that said "I'm not 100% sure this is a good idea but if we're going for it I'll absolutely give way more than 500%".

"Nah, I think I can handle Blue. Plus, you should probably keep Nightmare company. I'll be fine."

Cross was not fine.

Not fine at all.

He went to Outertale, expecting Blue to be out so he could ambush him in his room. That way, he'll have the absolute advantage over him. Kicking the door down, the monochrome guardian stepped in ticked as hell to be greeted with being grabbed with strings and being hung upside down.

"FUCK!"

"Well well well~"

Shit. Flirty tone. Strings. Being face to face with a glitchy eye and snarky face. Yep, it was Blue.

"GOD DAMMIT BLUE! PUT ME DOWN AND STOP DRUGGING MY FUCKING TACOS!" Stupidly, he started flailing in the strings trying to escape. However with each and every movement, he only entangled himself further.

"Oh? And why should I?" The cocky little bastard was definitely amused by this, just standing in front of Cross as he eventually got himself so wrapped up he couldn't move anymore.

"BECAUSE I SAID SO! NOW PUT ME DOWN!"

"Okay~"

"FU-" And like that, he was dropped head first onto the floor. Groaning, he quickly grabbed the huge knife strapped onto his back and got into a battle position. "Listen Blueberry, I'm sick and tired of having to deal with not being able to eat tacos without falling asleep. So quit it before things get messy."

Obviously, that got Blue to stop and think. Though he destroyed AUs, he didn't actually enjoy the blood and misery it brought. Cross could never understand why he destroyed AUs anyway though. Was he hired to do it? Obviously not by that best friend stealer who thinks he has the right to look at one little crime someone made and say "okay you go die now". The knife wielding skeleton knew the string user well. Everything he did had a means to an end.

That didn't mean it was always an actually good reason though.

"How about a deal," Well shit, another negotiation. Cross wondered what it was going to be this time. Another theft from JR? Maybe another prank on Ink? He really didn't know with the destroyer. As much as he knew about him, he could also be unpredictable at times. "In exchange for no more taco druggings, you have to be my new guinea pig."

...

Wait wha-

"Wait, guinea pig? FOR WHAT?!" Cross did NOT like the sound of being someone's toy to play with. Especially not after what happened to his AU. He'd been a pawn in XFrickster's plan to be the "best story". And he did NOT LIKE THE SOUND OF BEING ANYWHERE NEAR THAT AGAIN.

"Calm down, I'm not going to do any weird mad scientist stuff." The glitchy eyed skeleton folded his arms, shaking his head like he was dealing with an idiotic 5 year old. In a way, he was. Cross wasn't going to deny that he could make some very questionable decisions at times. "I meant I want you to be a taste tester for me. I cook as a hobby but sometimes I'll throw random stuff in a dish to see what it tastes like. I'm merely using you as both a taste tester and a second opinion."

Oh, that was totally reassuring.

Him throwing random crap in food he has to agree to try is absolutely reassuring. But, it was this or not be able to eat tacos without being paranoid and boy would that be hell.

He knew his answer. And he did NOT LIKE that it was between this and either no tacos or AU destruction.

"Fine, but you better not poison me or feed me crap Blueberry."

#oneshot #dreamswap #ds!cross #ds!blue #crossberry #ds!crossberry #cross x blue #ship #undertale #undertale au #headcanon

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pernatius · 3 years

Text

Lost in Space Part 9: Ch 1

Summary: Syco and the unnamed Space Explorer question their choices.

Lost in Space on Tumblr

Lost in Space on ao3

At the center, behind the looming figure, a single ray of moonlight shines on the spilled dark, nearly blood-red paint that came out of its sideways bowl. It looks as if the paint is glowing, illuminating this poorly lit and now stuffy room with a red tint, giving the room a sinister vibe.

The figure before Syco has their right eye twitch. Pointy face gulps and bites their lip. One wide-eyed moment later and our captor bursts out laughing. The figures, the accomplices, circling us follow suit. To them, Syco is a comedian. To me, he’s a brick wall. Not a single funny bone in his body, yet they laugh as if he told the funniest joke ever. Saamuki blushes at this.

From nervousness to amusement to returning to square one, attentive with a tad bit of annoyance, Pointy Face’s transitions are awkward. Maybe it’s because they’re no longer self-assured. No longer does pride escape their lips. Discomfort, instead, drifts from their hand gestures as they speak. “I’ll also admit how downright brilliant you’ve been throughout this war. Though, you can’t run forever. At some point, you need to stop. We must catch our breaths before we dare to think of that next step. You already know this before taking that first step. However, we don't know everything. We can't plan for things we don't know. It's impossible. We trip on that crack we didn’t see, and we scrape our knee. It hurts. Badly.”

“We’ve known each other for years, Zeq, but merely knowing is different from friendship.” Pointy Face, or as Syco says is Zeq, raises an eyebrow. “Although, I wish I was wrong. I see I’m faced with more enemies rather than given allies.” That’s what’s been in those blue eyes of his. He’s regretful.

“And that surprises you? I can no longer trade. Supplies are low. My village is dying. Again, my people suffer,” Zeq lowers their voice with the drop of Syco’s ears, “This isn’t personal, Syco. It’s diplomatic. It’s about survival. The sooner this war ends, the sooner I can save my people.”

“How long until they get here?”

“Less than an hour.”

“Then, I have plenty of time to do this.” Out first comes a grunt, then out second comes Syco. The freed Tauvox has Zeq stumble backward and with their words. Those around us motion their hands in a way I’m familiar with. Transforming their fingers into blades, surprisingly sharp for leaves, they take a step forward. They’re halted from taking another when Syco encases Zeq’s neck with his thick fingers. Zeq’s hat falls. It rolls and goes in a little circular motion before stopping and pointing in my direction.

It’s here I notice how tall Zeq is, almost as tall as Syco, but somehow looks several feet smaller than the actual height difference between the two. Zeq is lanky and wilting, so Syco’s hand easily wraps around it and can easily snap it. He’s imposing to them, but not to me.

“You will let us all go, and in return, I’ll let your mayor go.”

“What are you doing? Let me go. Put me down. Don’t you see what I’m doing for you,” Zeq spoke up.

“All you’re doing is delaying my plans.”

“No, Syco. I’m saving you from what’s to come as well. You’ve gone farther than your predecessor, yes, but you will fail just like him. Your, my people’s, and trillions of other’s suffering can end here.”

That moment where our eyes met I thought he was going to do it. I thought he was going to end it all. To let Zeq go than to just squeeze Zeq’s throat until it ripped in half, cemented who Syco truly is. Time has truly lost its touch on him. It no longer means anything to him. He’ll take down those who are in his way. It also cemented their decision in attacking. A blade went through Syco’s chest. He elbowed them, causing the blade to slide out and the others now surrounding him to look at one another. Then, proceed. They slice into Syco’s skin, some of his furs break off from the cuts and scatter across their chests, and in turn, Syco stabs them with his horns. His horns go right through each of them, but all of them easily heal. I see veins stitch themselves back together and soon flesh as well. The same can’t be said about the lifeless, decapitated mayor.

I try breaking free from my troubles, but all it does is tighten the sap around me. I see why the others haven’t succeeded as Syco has. I’m starting to sweat. Saamuki would’ve landed herself to be boiled alive. As for Shiitakee, well, he’s Shiitakee.

The drooping mushroom says, “What I’d do to be lighting up a cigarette right now.”

Three simple strokes of his horn between their swings and the three of us are freed. Syco catches one of their blades between his hands and throws them into the others before turning to us and shouting, “What are you waiting for? Get to the ship!”

Walking across the bridge made me anxious. Running and trying to balance while the bridge sways left to right because of the fight happening behind me still gives me anxiety, but now it's nauseating. At least now it's too dark to spot the ground between the wood making up this rickety path, but it’s too dark to make out what’s what. The bushy branches above let some, not enough, moonlight in. My crown’s fire isn’t enough either. I’d thank Saamuki for glowing on this hectic night if I wasn’t busy running and trying not to trip.

Another obstacle stood in our way as Zeq’s aides don't know when to give up. They’re relentless. They don’t know when to fall. So, now we’re sandwiched between them and the scowled figure from earlier. I get out my blade, and Saamuki prepares to lunge, but it’s Shiittakee that challenges the figure who’s far larger than the three of us. Syco, if he wanted to, could crush Shiitakee just like he did with Zeq. This figure could crush Shiitakee and cause him to explode. I don’t want to see any more guts be sprayed out, so I take a step closer. I could hear Syco still deflecting, and his horns connecting with their blades as Shiitakee proves he’s more than just some whiny quitter. A yellowish gas sprays out of his cap, fuming all around us. The figure, Saamuki, and I cough. Its stench was sucked up by my nostrils and carried to my taste buds. I gag. It tasted like rotten eggs mixed with spoiled milk with a dash of a public toilet. When it finally escapes my senses, another bridge appears between us. The tree beneath us had magically, probably because of that rancid gas, had stretched one of its branches to the ground, puncturing through the ocean of darkness resting beneath our feet. What could’ve been our aggressor just watches as we escape to the makeshift bridge. We enter the darkness, and not a minute after, I hear Syco joining us. This bridge groans with his added weight as he continues to battle on with those several vengeful figures.

Saamuki sends a blast their way. I hear someone slip. They plummet, but I don’t hear them land. So, definitely not Syco. Another blast, but it takes a moment longer before another one of them falls into the blackness below. There’s no third attempt. She turns back around, and I catch an ominous glimpse of the ones left watching us and the now caught up Syco walk the rest of the way. They watch us emotionlessly with their blades remaining.

A wind glazed us once we set foot onto the ground. It's gentle, a feeling I haven’t felt in some time.

Something new happens. Saamuki moves her hands in a circular shape. Little bolts of lightning shot out between her fingers. She breathed out and threw her hands apart. A small, glowing blue orb now floats above us, lighting everything around us within what I guess is a twenty-foot radius. Something scampers away, and Syco moves away from my awe, taking the lead.

I walk by his side the rest of the way to the spaceship. I should feel equal to him now, but there’s still plenty of distance between us before that ever could happen. I feel like he noticed it too, or maybe I’m just thinking about it too much. It’s just strange that he asked me to join him in his meeting with General Knox, interrupting Saamuki and his second-in-command. Saamuki and I look at each other, as his second-in-command continues what he was saying before being cut off by his commander. The two of us know I can’t decline. General Knox has our friends wrapped around his thumb. The last I heard from Syco is that they were in Quadrant Forty. It’s been too long since then. Who knows which quadrant they’re in? After all, finding and having them regain control are the main reasons we’ve let ourselves be commanded by the sweaty Tauvox arguing with the non-sweaty Tauvox. Any information helps. Whatever is going to be said during the meeting definitely is.

I nod. He replies with, “Great. Follow me. The meeting is going to start soon.”

Again, I walk by his side. I steal a glance from Saamuki until she turns to look at the pondering Shiitakee. The second-in-command stalks off, cutting across the hallway and ending my glance at Saamuki.

This room is new. Row by row across the walls, lights turn on. The room is large but not grand. Compared to the other rooms in the ship, even to the rented room shared between Saamuki and me, it’s small. On either side of the room sat two paintings. One of a man I know, Syco’s predecessor, and the other of a Tauvox with white fur. A scar stretches from their right eyebrow to the left side of their jawline. They’re just a picture, but I can sense they’re as much of a brute as The Commander, the terrifying presence instead of that corpse down below.

“Only one other, besides us, has entered this room. You know of him quite well.” I follow the Tauvox to the center of the room. Resting there is a platform with etchings of alien writing. It’s similar to Sakhra’s quilt. Actually, I think it’s the same. It’s just upside down.

I don’t have to look where he’s looking at it. Looking at that painting as long as I did was enough. So, I instead look at him. His expression is the same one he showed back in Zeq’s village.

“Why did you ask me to join you?”

“Because I trust you.” Interrupting him is the platform before us blinking. “Stay out of his sight. Commander Knox does not know you’re here.”

I move away as far as I can as the symbols on the platform float up and spin around Syco. Appearing in front of him is a hologram of that monkey-like commander. Would he and his people be considered cousins to humans? Human’s next evolution? Do they still count as humans? Besides the fur and metal parts, they still look human. I wonder what the Virmuses went through to look like that in the near millennia they split up from humanity.

“Ah, Commander Knox you were able to make it today.”

“Quadrant Forty has been tedious, Commander Syco.”

“Oh?”

“This is not an admittance to the limitations of my intelligence.”

“I would hope not.”

“As of the last report, half an hour ago, we have taken control of half of the quadrant.”

“And what of the three?”

“Same as the last time. Nothing new. Although, they did help me in a tight squeeze this morning.” I imagine Syco to have raised an eyebrow because the other commander continued with, “Again, not me admitting my limitations.”

“Great. Casualties?”

A laugh. “None from my side, but hundreds from the enemy.”

A flinch. The very hand Syco used to kill Zeq flinched. It’s a subtle movement. Commander Knox doesn’t notice, but I do. From that seemingly small action, I now know why he asked me to be here.

#219 #lost in space #my wrting #writers on tumblr #writeblr

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thedarklordmegatron · 5 years

Text

Father Dearest

Rating: General

Summary: Parenthood was never something Cor had envisioned for himself, but he wouldn't trade Prompto for the world.

Thank you @yoko2634 for the kofi <3

Also available on my AO3, but Tumblr won’t let me link it~

---

There is nothing on Eos that Cor loves more than his child.

He loves his son’s chubby cheeks and the way they puff up when he’s sulking over being denied another Chocobo toy. He loves the way Prompto waves at everyone they pass as Cor carries him through the Citadel and the infectious laughter that follows when someone waves back or pulls a funny face. He adores the way his child snuggles up beneath his blankets when he’s put to bed, cuddles one of his many toys close and tells him he loves him.

Prompto is without a doubt the most important and precious thing in Cor’s life.

However, as much as his heart swells with pride and love at the mere thought of his little boy, there are plenty of times when he desperately wishes for nothing more than a few blessed hours of peace. How he wishes he could pass Prompto over to someone else, collapse on the couch he keeps in his office and drink enough caffeine that his bring thinks he’s able to scale the side of the Citadel.

Alas, as Regis and Clarus warned him when he first signed the adoption papers, such moments of peace were few and far between. Instead, he’s forced to suffer through numerous attempts to complete his paperwork with a wriggling two-year-old in his lap.

“Prom,” He sighs as a little finger creeps towards his nostril for the fourth time in ten minutes. Setting his pen down atop the requisition forms he’s been trying to work through, he looks down at his son.

Prompto, seeing that his father’s attention is solely on him, giggles mischievously before completely his finger’s journey and planting it firmly in Cor’s nose.

“Oh you think that’s funny do you?” Cor questions, attempting to keep a straight face as he takes hold of the tiny wrist. “Think it’s funny to torment your father huh?” Prompto grins up at him and nods “Do you know what happens to little boys who bully their daddies?” A shake of the head, “They get eaten by the tickle monster!” Before his son has a chance to try and escape, Cor scoops him up from his lap and carefully deposits him on the desk, digging his fingers into Prompto’s sides.

The reaction is instantaneous, Prompto lets out an ear-piercing squeal and flails around, desperately trying to escape the attack.

“Daddy noooo!” He laughs, putting a hand over Cor’s mouth and pushing. Of course, he is no match for his father and instead, Cor pretends to bite the little fingers which only sends Prompto into further hysterics. “No fair!”

“So fair!” Cor laughs, relenting his tickle attack only to swing Prompto up into his arms and dance them both around his office, paperwork long forgotten in favour of entertaining his son.

Giggling wildly, Prompto clings onto Cor’s neck as they spin only to shriek when Cor trips over the chair leg and expertly falls onto his back, Prompto held firmly to his chest.

“Oopsie!” Prompto giggles as reaches out to pat Cor’s cheeks.

“A big oopsie,” Cor agrees as he catches one of the tiny arms and places a kiss on the wrist. “I guess daddy needs to be more careful huh buddy?” Prompto nods before attempting to wriggle free of the hold his father has on him. Taking pity on his son and the way his face has gone red in frustration, Cor releases him and watches on in amusement as Prompto toddles across to the couch, expertly drags his blanket off of it and returns to his side. Only instead of climbing onto his chest and taking a nap, as he often did, Prompto throws the fabric over Cor’s head and giggles almost manically.

“Oh no!” Cor laments, placing a hand on his chest and reaching the other arm out, “I’ve gone blind!”

Beneath the blanket, he grins as he listens to Prompto run around his office and while he’s content to lay there and allow his son to run riot, he’s still prepared to move at a moment’s notice if needs be.

“Stay away from the cupboards,” He warns, only to sigh at the mischevious giggle that comes as a response. That giggle never bodes well.

Cor’s not quite sure how long he’s been laying on the floor when one of the drawers slides open and Prompto makes a triumphant noise, only that his back has started to ache and he’s fairly certain that Prompto must have spilt shampoo onto the blanket for the strawberry scent to be as strong as it is.

“Daddy!” Prompto calls as his footsteps get closer, “Daddy look!” The blanket is unceremoniously yanked away before being immediately replaced by a bright yellow Chocobo plushie. A plushie that Cor is absolutely certain he did not buy but is fairly sure that he knows who did.

“Now where did that come from?” He questions, reaching out to snag Prompto by the waist and lift his son, Chocobo and all, onto his chest.

“Uncle Clare!”

Of course it was.

What a surprise.

Once again Clarus had taken it upon himself to fuel his son’s Chocobo obsession. Looks like he’s going to be making a trip to Kids Cove to buy up all of their Moogle merchandise once again. Gladiolus had a big enough room, it’s not like they wouldn’t have anywhere to put it and if the little boy really didn’t want it all, well, Cor’s fairly confident that they’ll be used to fuel the Prince’s growing love of the creatures.

“Uncle Clarus huh?” Prompto nods, hugging the plushie against his chest, “So what’s this one called?” He asks as he rolls onto his knees, carefully moving Prompto into his lap in the process.

"Bo three!" And there’s the famous Leonis imagination doing its thing.

“That’s a very good name Prom. He’ll be a good friend for Bo and Bo two.” As well as the other twelve or so plushies that are hidden around his son’s bedroom.

“The bestest!” Prompto says firmly before hiding his face in the soft fabric.

Accepting that his paperwork is now a lost cause, not that he expected anything different to happen when his sitter cancelled on him the night before, Cor stands in one fluid motion, shifting Prompto onto his hip.

“Tell you what, why don’t we go and find Noctis? You can introduce him to Bo three.”

Prompto gasps in delight, rapidly nodding his head “Noct! Go find Noct daddy!” Laughing softly, Cor leans in to press a kiss to his son’s forehead before making his way out of the office. If nothing else he might be able to pawn Prompto off onto whoever has been roped into watching over Noctis for the day, he could at least then tell Regis that he’d made a conscious effort to try and get something done today.

Parenthood was never something he’d envisioned for himself, but as he strolls through the Citadel, Prompto safe in his arms and laughing away to himself as he talks to his Chocobo, he can’t help but be grateful that it found him all the same. Even if it did nearly cause an international incident in the process and result in him being pulled up in front of a tribunal. It was completely worth it and he wouldn’t trade Prompto for the world.

“Love you daddy,” Prompto pipes up as they get into the elevator.

Smiling softly Cor gently bumps his forehead against his son’s, “Love you too kiddo.”

#cor leonis #prompto argentum #dad cor #baby prompto #Final Fantasy #final fantasy xv #final fantasy 15 #vex writes #well toddler prompto really

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need-a-fugue · 4 years

Text

Isolation Got You Down?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warning(s): nah, brah, it’s all good. Just some angsty fluff.

A/N: I decided to try out Tumblr in a fit of quarantine-induced ennui... so it only seems fit to start with a story about going utterly mad whilst trapped at home during this time. If only I had a Bucky to help me through...

Day ten of quarantine, and you’ve lost all sense of propriety.

It’s as though you’re writing your own version of Lord of the Flies – albeit a sad, boring, lonely version – wherein the dissolution of societal norms leads to a full-grown woman lying prone on her bed wearing nothing but a bright pink towel, a scraped-clean 64-ounce jar of peanut butter by her side and a phone down to it’s last 11-percent of life clutched desperately in her hand.

There are no rules in isolation, no order nor structure. No duty. No purpose. No need for decorum or even, well, moving.

How it is that Bucky cannot see this, is beyond you. How he’s still capable of – and willing to – dress and eat and function as though the entire world hasn’t just been put on hold, is an absolute mystery. How he ever managed to convince you to shower and finally wash your hair this morning, is a question that’s still – hours later – burning through your limp mind. And how on Earth he thinks it’s possible that you’re going to get up and leave this room at any point today, is an unfathomable, unanswerable, downright baffling enigma.

And yet here he is, looming over your motionless body, an incredulous, almost amused look on his face as you tell him – again – “No.”

He quirks his head and narrows his eyes, and tries to hold back a laugh. “C’mon, doll,” he urges, bumping his knee harshly against the edge of the bed to jostle you. “Just a walk. Let’s just go outside and get some fresh air. I think you could use it.”

Your brow furrows, scowl tightening your cheeks and pursing your lips. “James,” you warn low and slow. “I told you, no.”

He lets out a long, deflating sigh and flops down onto the bed beside you, grimacing when he rolls over onto – is that a spoon? He grabs the utensil and tosses it into your lap with an irritated huff. “How long have you been wearing that towel?” he asks pointedly, eyes tracing up and down your otherwise naked body as you recline into the mound of pillows piled at your back.

You shrug, smug look rolling over your features. “This is what I wear now.”

“A damp towel? You’ve been wearing this since you showered this morning?” he asks, already knowing the answer.

You were here when he left earlier, curled atop the comforter, mumbling a vague thank you as he dropped off a mug of hot coffee before heading out for a run. You were here when he got back home – sitting at least – in the same spot on the bed, yelling at him to go shower and change, squealing in horror as he tried to lean down and kiss you on his way into the bathroom. You were here when he got out of the shower, rolling your eyes at his clean and neat and dressed form as he pecked you on the cheek before taking off to forage for food in the common area.

You’ve been here all along. Because this is where you live now. On this bed. In this room. Away from everyone and everything.

You don’t bother to respond to his inane inquiry, opting instead to shoulder a dismissive shrug and turn back to the Buzzfeed quiz open on your slowly dying phone.

He slides closer, leans his forehead onto your bare shoulder for a moment and presses a soft kiss to your bicep. Then he grabs the phone from your hands with the speed and stealth of a damn ninja. “Hey!” you bark out, slapping at his arm as he holds the phone up high, trying to read the screen and keep it from your reach simultaneously. “Gimme!”

His eyes narrow as he recites, “Choose some cupcakes, and we’ll tell you when you’ll get married,” before letting out a long groan and turning to chuck the phone up onto the chest of drawers several feet away.

You blink and sputter, rather impressed with his gentle toss that lands your phone safely so far away. But also pissed off that you might actually have to roll out of bed to retrieve it later. The frown on your face deepens as you utter, “It’s not like I can rely on you to tell me when that’ll happen.”

A deep chuckle pulls from his chest, vibrating into you as he lays back down and curls into your side. “Baby, we can get married any time you want.” He drapes his metal arm over your middle, sneaking his cold, hard fingers beneath the towel and grasping lightly at your hip. A sudden shiver runs through you at the cool touch and you buck slightly, the action pulling another soft laugh from the man by your side. “But to do that, you’ll need to get out of bed. And put on some clothes.”

You roll lazily over onto your side to face him, placing the two of you nose to nose. His fingers – slowly warming from the contact of your skin – fall from your hip to your low back. “What’s the point?” you mutter breathily into the small space between. You connect with his gray-blue eyes, easily recognizing the lightness that permeates them only when he’s near you. “Can’t leave. Can’t go anywhere. Not supposed to be around people.” You shrug and sigh – both such terribly melancholy gestures that it causes those brilliant blue eyes to darken.

His metal thumb begins to trace soft, slow circles on the naked flesh of your hip. “I’m worried about you,” he states, leaning the tiniest bit closer and swiping the tip of his nose against yours. That dreaded worry line between his eyes deepens as he pulls away, his hand shifting from beneath your towel and coming up to rest on the side of your face. “I know we’re under a quarantine, but that doesn’t mean you need to completely shut yourself off from the world.”

The corners of your lips continue to tug downward. “I was staying connected through my phone. Which you stole. Now I’m officially, completely isolated.”

He pulls back a bit to give you a dubious stare. “I really think you need some fresh air,” he tries again, the suggestion coming off even more pretentious than before.

You direct your eyes back up at the whitewashed ceiling, chin lifting defiantly as you state, “I like the air in here.”

“The air in here smells like mildew,” he says, fingering the edge of your – mostly – dry towel. He sniffs loudly, wrinkling his nose in something akin to disgust. “And… peanut butter. Have you eaten anything other than peanut butter for the past week?”

“You brought me pizza last night,” you mutter plainly. “And Sam gave me cookies.”

He flops back onto the mattress – no pillows to cushion his fall as you’ve piled them all up behind you – and his lids clamp tightly shut as he moans, “Those damn cookies. I don’t know why Wilson keeps baking shit.”

You merely shrug. “We all deal with anxiety in our own ways.”

Those utterly sincere words – the first that seem to carry not a hint of sarcasm or goading – cause Bucky’s brow to furrow once again, the crease between his eyes caving in as he shifts to gaze at the side of your face. “You really think this is the best way for you to deal with it?”

Another shrug. Another frown. Another noncommittal groan.

“You’re anxious?” he asks, knowing the answer, of course, but waiting for you to respond all the same. When you don’t, he reaches out and gently pinches the tip of your chin between his metal thumb and forefinger, pivoting your face towards him. “You’re scared?”

Your gaze hardens, expression shifting from ennui to irritation. “I’m not scared,” you tell him, voice taking on an argumentative edge. “I don’t get scared.”

He laughs, soft and genuine, and flattens his palm against your cheek. “I know, baby. You’re one tough bitch.”

You roll your eyes exasperatedly. “You can’t call me that.”

“You’re my tough bitch,” he drawls out, voice smooth as silk, lips quirking into a sly smile.

You pull away from him, rolling back onto your back so you can stare aimlessly at the ceiling. “I’m not scared,” you repeat softly, words obviously meant more for you than for him.

“I know.”

“Two weeks ago, I ran into a burning building without a second thought,” you mutter, voice oddly wistful as you recall those death-defying actions you undertook on the last pre-pandemic mission.

“Yeah,” Bucky grumbles, shifting uncomfortably beside you. “Not your finest moment. I’m not sure that was fearlessness so much as stupidity.”

“We needed that flash drive,” you state plainly. “And the point is, I wasn’t scared to do it.”

“You should’ve been,” he counters bitingly, clearly still a bit bitter about you putting the fear of God in him for little more than a handful of old SHIELD personnel files. He hauls himself up and throws his left knee over your hip, straddling your lap as you continue to lay there, motionless. His eyes bore into you as he looms, face slowly moving into your line of sight even as you try to continue staring past him. “So you weren’t scared to do that, but I ask you to take a walk with me and you act like I’m trying to kill you?”

“That was different.” He gives you a disbelieving look, single brow cocked high. “It was… is. This is… it’s just… it’s different.”

“It’s different because you didn’t think about running into that building. You just reacted.” He lets out a harsh scoff. “Wish you woulda thought about it a little more. But still…” His flesh thumb rises to trace a slow arc along your jawline, a gentle, soothing stroke. “But this… You’re just lying here all day, staring at the ceiling thinking about this… stuff.”

“Well, what am I supposed to do?” you bleat out, wide eyes finally seizing onto his. “Put it out of my mind? It’s everywhere!” You shift beneath him, attempting to somehow curl up and away, and you let out an irritated growl when his knees squeeze your hips to hold you in place. You glower at him, cheeks and ears beginning to burn in an angry blush. “Turn on the TV, hit up social medial, scan the news… hell, I check my email and I have messages from every place I’ve ever shopped telling me what they’re doing about the… pandemic. And don’t tell me to just… avoid it… or… ignore it. Because I can’t. Because I have literally nothing else to do but read about it and hear about it and watch it. Because I can’t work. Or leave. Or have fun. Or do anything. Because we’re trapped here like rats in a collapsed sewer.”

“Very dramatic,” he intones, expression blank and seemingly unimpressed.

You release a long, pained sigh and somehow manage to sink deeper into the pillows at your back. “I’m a TB patient, sent off to a sanitarium to slowly wither and die amongst the other like-conditioned people.” He sits back on his heels and rolls his eyes so dramatically that he almost falls backward. “Here,” you demand suddenly, reaching up and grabbing at his arms. You tug him off to the side with a grunt, his body like a lead weight, even as he willingly follows your lead. “Lie down beside me and stare at the ceiling with me. You’ll see.”

He reluctantly obliges, lying down beside you, his head just brushing against your shoulder. “What am I supposed to see? Other than the ceiling fan?”

“You don’t feel it?”

His hair tickles your naked flesh as he shakes his head. “Feel what, baby?”

A long, languid sigh pulls from somewhere deep in your chest. “The walls closing in. The life force slowly draining from your body.”

“Okay, that’s it.” He pulls in a fast, deep breath and sits bolt upright, shoving his right arm beneath you in one swift and solid motion to easily toss you up over his shoulder. You let out a small eep as he tugs you close and scoots backwards off the bed. “We’re going for a walk,” he says, twisting around and hauling you a bit higher up as he moves to the bureau and pulls open the top drawer.

You don’t bother fighting him. You only crane your head to watch as he digs through your underwear, his fingers lingering perhaps a bit too long amid the lace and silk pieces before clasping around a pair of cotton panties and folding them into his palm. “What…”

“Now,” he goes on, interrupting you and heading across the room towards the overstuffed chair in the corner. He drops you unceremoniously into the seat with a thick grunt, grabbing the pair of jeans you had draped over the back and tossing them – along with the pair of underwear – into your lap. “You have exactly two minutes to get dressed or I’m taking you out to the track like this.”

You scowl at him, then down at the clothes in your lap. “No shirt?” you snipe brazenly.

He shrugs – “Guess that’s your call.” – and glances over at the clock on the bedside table. “One minute, forty-five seconds.”

“But I don’t want to,” you whine, drawing each word out pathetically.

He raises a brow at you – at your childish antics – and juts his chin toward your clothes by way of command. A giant, petulant pout rolls across your face as you lean over and pull on the panties, tugging them up awkwardly as you scoot down the cushion of the chair instead of rising. He watches like a distrustful prison guard, his face flat and serious. But there’s a mirthful twinkle in his deep blue eyes, a highly amused, almost gleeful glint that grows wider as you clumsily struggle into your pants in much the same way.

“I’m not wearing a bra,” you state firmly as you – finally – stand. “Quarantine and confinement expressly dictate no bra needed. And I’m not breaking that rule.”

“Fine,” he says with a shrug, gaze bouncing around the room before landing on the hoodie he shed earlier in the day, laying splayed on the corner of the bed. He snatches it up and tosses it to you, small smirk morphing into a wide, crooked smile when he turns back to find the towel shed and you looming half naked before him. “I prefer you without one anyway.”

You roll your eyes and try to somehow hold back the coy blush you feel bloom along your neck and cheeks. Then you tug on the oversized sweatshirt, sputtering and shaking your head to loose the now staticky hair clinging to your face. You try to blow it away, catching a glimpse Bucky’s still-grinning face as you do so. The hoodie comes nearly down to your knees, positively drowning you in it’s warmth and nearly overwhelming you with the smell of him. But that brilliant comfort does nothing to keep you from giving him an annoyed look as you attempt to push the too damn long sleeves up your forearms with a disgruntled groan. “This does it for you?” you ask when you see his eyes slowly, yearningly trace up and down your body.

He takes the two short steps needed to close the distance between you, drops his hands to your hips – or where he assumes they are, buried in the billowing sweatshirt – and nods. “Yeah, it does.”

You can’t hold back the sweet, charmed laugh that bubbles up from your chest as you watch him actually lick his lips in front of you, smacking them loudly as his eyes remain glued to your body. “Stop it,” you breathe out amid another chortle as you teasingly slap at his shoulder.

He wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his chest for a lingering, blissful moment, his breath softly blowing back your hair as he utters simply, “There’s my girl.”

You feel your own hands creep around him, folding over his low back. And you mumble into him, “Here I am. Dressed. Standing upright.”

He chuckles lightly, the slight quivering of his chest pulsating into you as the sound spills into your hair, and he delicately presses a kiss to your temple before pulling away, just a bit, just enough to be able to look down at you. “Almost forgot what you looked like dressed and standing.”

“Mm-hmm,” you hum blithely, locking onto his gaze as – ever so slowly and stealthily – your hands release their hold on him and move up to tug the hood of the shirt up over your head. Your fingers wind themselves around the strings and steadily tug down until the thick, black hood conceals nearly your entire face, nothing more than your nose and top lip peeking through the opening. Your eyes are covered, so you can’t see the fond and utterly amused smile that rolls over Bucky’s face, but you sense it none the less, somehow feeling the warmth of it just inches away. You force yourself to bite back a grin of your own, firmly shoving down the bit of lightness creeping into your core, and you mumble through the sweatshirt, “Okay, I’m ready.”

“Really?” he asks, tone mocking. And you can almost hear him shaking his head chidingly.

“Too dangerous,” you mutter, shifting your chin up to allow the words to spill out of the tiny hood hole. “I don't have a mask.”

He laughs, a quick, thick sputter that makes the corners of your well-hidden lips curl up despite yourself. “Baby,” he starts, hands falling to your hips and pinching down before giving a quick jostle. “The entire compound is on lockdown. All non-essential personnel were sent home a week ago. It’s just the team, and none of us have been off the premises.”

“That you know of,” you drawl out suspiciously. “Name one member of the team that you actually really, truly trust.”

Another gruff chortle, a bit indistinct through the stifled haze of the tight, dark hood. “I trust them all. And that’s saying something coming from me.”

You let out a long, pathetic groan, head dropping back dramatically so that your chin rolls into position in the hood hole, words muffled by the confining fabric when you grumble out, “Don’t wanna…”

“Just give me an hour,” he says, voice soft and entreating. “For the next hour, I don’t want you thinking about anything but me and you and…” He reaches out to work his fingers beneath the taut hood, frowning when you pull the drawstring tighter to stifle his progress. A small, irritated huff blows out of him as he pries the strings from your hands, your impudent pout and short grunt bringing an amused beam to his face despite his annoyance. He tugs the hood away from your face and off your head, running his right hand through your hair to smooth down – as best he can without some kind of blowtorch – the staticky mess of tangles you just created. “The feel of the sun on your face,” he finally finishes his thought, giving a sweet, sincere smile as you look up at him with still-glum eyes.

The put-on pout vanishes from your face, all too swiftly being replaced by a stern and anxious scowl. “People are dying,” you argue weakly.

He continues to hold your gaze, those bright blue eyes burrowing all the way down to your soul. “People die everyday, sweetheart.”

You shake your head adamantly. “People are sick. And they’re losing their jobs. They can’t work, can’t pay their rent. Kids can’t go to school… and you know how many kids rely on school for meals? And their education?” Your eyes widen, posture stiffens as your voice takes on a nervous edge and the words tumble at an even faster pace from your slightly trembling lips. “Homeschool? James, people are having to homeschool their kids… I would lose my freaking mind if I had to do that! There aren’t enough hospital beds, enough ventilators… Out-of-touch celebrities are singing Imagine for God only knows what reason! And there is no toilet paper!”

He takes ahold of your shoulders, fingers pressing down firmly to help ground you. “Just me and you, baby,�� he reminds you gently. “We’re not dying. We’re not sick. We’ve got our jobs, even if we can’t really do them right now. We don’t have any kids to homeschool. And we have plenty of TP. And I promise, I’m not going to make you sing anything. Believe me, that would be more torture for me than anything.”

“You’re not funny.”

He chuckles lightly, fingers releasing and beginning a soft, sweeping motion along your upper arms. “One hour, doll. Just you and me. And some fresh air. Can you do that for me?”

You duck your head reticently, fully aware that you’re about to cave. “Then you’ll let me return to my cocoon?”

He cocks a wickedly enticing eyebrow at you and declares, “Then we can grab some food and curl up in bed together and watch Netflix.”

You look up through thick lashes, slight sulk still punctuating your face despite the rising tilt at one corner of your lips. “Watch Pandemic?”

A loud, frustrated groan pulls from his chest, another eye roll nearly spraining each and every ocular muscle. “Get your shoes and get your ass out the door,” he says, pulling away and giving your behind a swift thwack as he spins on a heel and heads for the hall.

You shove the thick sweatshirt sleeves back up your forearms and bend over to collect the shoes you haven’t bothered to wear in days, calling out to him as you race after, “I’m still not gonna let you kiss me unless you gargle with bleach water!” Knowing full well that’s the emptiest threat you’ve ever made.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #marvel #bucky barnes fanfic #quarantine fic #marvel fanfic #fanfiction #bucky barnes x you

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ancientwastedlores · 4 years

Text

The Support System (Ch: 5)

SUMMARY: The Avengers have managed to collect all the infinity stones across the universe, and are currently keeping them in far corners of the world, only for research and to see if they can improve the planet and its people. Reader is a researcher with Tony Stark and Bruce Banner, as well as a field agent. Loki is currently serving time for his actions in New York City in 2012.

A/N: Find this chapter on AO3 here. Feedback and fic requests totally welcome.

AO3: The Support System Tumblr: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4

Chapter: 5/? Warnings: Rough fighting. Audience: general.

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CHAPTER 5:

Once in the training room, he looks at the wall with all the weapons. You naturally gravitate towards the katanas, which he spots you pick up.

‘Is that…?’ ‘Yes!’ you show him the handles. ‘Odin stealing poetry from the Jotuns’. ‘How do you know!?’ ‘I grew up reading those stories’.

His eyes widen, undoubtedly the possibility of you knowing stories about him as well running through his mind. You figure it out, but say nothing.

‘The katanas are your favourite?' he asks. ‘I wouldn’t say that, but I do find myself getting really good with these lately. I’ve considered taking these on the mission’.

Loki turns away to inspect the other weapons on the wall. You strap the harness on and place the katanas in. ‘Whenever you’re ready’.

‘Oh, I’m ready’ he walks to the middle of the room. ‘You don’t have any weapons’. ‘I don’t need any’ he gives you a devilish grin. ‘No magic’ you warn. ‘We didn’t agree on that. Come on’. ‘No!’ ‘Are we scared?’

You raise an eyebrow. You will not be challenged. You take your place at the centre as well. ‘Don’t be offended if I stab you’

‘It wouldn’t make a difference’.

With flourish, you remove the katanas from behind you. You charge at him then jump, and you expect him to block you. He merely disappears and you fall flat on your face. You get up and look behind you, where he stands, grinning again.

Oh, it’s going to be like that, is it.

You charge at him again, jump again, and he disappears. You expect it and promptly take one of your katanas and stab the air behind you. It hits its mark. You turn to see the katana pierce his abdomen. You look at his face, but he’s still grinning. You feel a strong pair of hands grab your neck from behind and choke you and the Loki next to you disappears. You realise it’s an illusion again. You roll your eyes, drop your katanas, and break from Loki’s grip by flipping him over your body so he’s now on the floor. You smirk at him and go to pick up the katanas you dropped, except another pair of hands circle your stomach and pull you back, then throw you against the wall.

You fall, stunned. You didn’t expect him to be so rough on you. Oh well. You know he’s just going to keep using illusions, but at least it will tire you out, something no agent or Nat has managed to do.

You continue fighting. At some point you stopped using the katanas and resorted to a gun after being frustrated. You manage to corner him and hold him at gun point. A clone comes up behind you to grab the gun, but you expect it now and just throw an elbow behind you, giving the clone a fake bloody nose. You smile at Loki.

‘Oh, there’s more back there’. ‘I’ve fought of three bad guys while still holding onto a baby’ you brag.

He looks amused at that, ‘I still suggest you turn around’.

You roll your eyes and turn around, expecting something ridiculous like a whole room of Lokis. You’re greeted by a frost giant.

‘What the…’ ‘Meet Angr’ he says.

The Frost Giant, Angr, whose height is about the height of the room, moves like a cat. He ducks and grabs your leg, pulls you to the ground and disarms you.

‘You play dirty’ you accuse Loki. ‘You asked me to fight’ he says, and you can hear the arrogance in his voice.

You're actually out of breath and quite tired, also something no agent has managed to do. You stand up and stare down Angr, which is not an easy feat since he towers over you.

‘Size doesn’t matter’ you mutter to yourself.

Behind you, Loki chuckles.

You’re quick too. Your gloves, provided by the kind Princess of Wakanda, are made of Vibranium and have claws. You use these to claw into Angr’s ice skin and climb up; you get to his head and mount it, his neck between your legs, and you position the claws at his neck.

‘Only an illusion, right?’ you ask. ‘Of course’ Loki says.

You take a deep breath, and as a final gesture, you reach forward to grab Angr’s neck, then pull, expecting blood to go everywhere. But Loki has had enough of indulging you, and just makes the giant disappear, causing you to fall. You somersault in the air and manage to safely land on your feet.

You laugh and lie down on the floor to catch your breath. Loki keeps standing in his corner, now dead silent.

‘Oh god, THAT was a workout’ you announce. ‘That was amazing, why haven’t I been training with you all this time?’ you jump on your feet to pick up the weapons you dropped.

He keeps silent. You pick up the knives, guns, katanas and a few other things you grabbed from the walls to fight. You’ve never felt the need to resort to all of them. You place them back on the wall neatly, while seeing your reflection in the clean metal. You’re actually bruised.

You don’t mind, but hope it clears up before you have to go.

You’re still a bit startled by how rough Loki played, though. You’ve had serious sparring sessions with Natasha and Maria Hill, who both at one point, lightly stabbed you and then told you to walk it off. Even new recruits who didn’t know how to control their strength caused you an injury or too without meaning to, which you recovered from. But with Loki, it felt like he knew exactly what he was doing, and didn’t want to stop.

It somehow it didn’t feel like a good natured fight, now that you think about it.

You decide not to bring it up immediately, though. It’s been about two hours, and you’re drenched in sweat. But you do want to bring it up when you’re watching Doctor Who later in the night.

After sitting locked up in your room for the next few hours, nursing your wounds on your face, arms, and back, showering, and reading a few research papers, you leave your room for dinner.

‘JESUS kid, what happened to you?’ Tony exclaims, as you walk into the dining room. ‘Well, I finally met my match’ you laugh, pointing at Loki. ‘I haven’t bruised like that since my first month training with Natasha’.

Tony glares at Loki, obviously interpreting you incorrectly.

‘No, I asked him to fight me. It’s not his fault!' you jump to his defense. Well, it is a little bit, but you decide to keep that to yourself and confront him later. ‘Uhuh’ Tony says, not totally convinced. ‘Sure. Sit down, we got your favourite’.

You take your seat across from Loki’s, who is avoiding looking at you and staring only at his plate. Everyone wants to ask about your sparring session with Loki, more out of concern than anything else.

You assure them it was fun, and the bruises don’t hurt that much, and you’ll be fine within the week.

‘We don’t have to have our session tomorrow’ Natasha says. ‘No, I’m good, really’. ‘Kid, you’re going to get yourself killed’ Tony warns. ‘I’m fine, reall…’ ‘You’re taking an off tomorrow. That’s an order’ his tone is final.

You know not to argue with that.

Conversation continues as usual. You keep trying to make eye contact with Loki, who only stares at his plate. You let it go and let your mind wander to the techniques you used to fight Loki’s illusions, trying to store them in memory.

It wasn’t just you who had a rough day. Tony and Bruce got tired of not getting anywhere with the Reality Gem, and moved to a new project for the time being. Bruce didn’t want to share yet what he was up to, but Tony threw himself into upgrading weapons for the extraction mission. Nat spent the day inspecting the S.H.I.E.L.D agents chaperoning them for the mission along with Hill. Sam Wilson was also asked to join, so he spent the day trying out the upgraded weapons for Tony in his lab.

Everyone agreed they wanted a drink, but you decide to just go to bed, since you’re tired. You do, however, take a few beers to your room. Bruce asks you to sit with them, but you really want to just sit in bed and watch TV and drink them. You bid good night to everyone and head to your room.

Loki’s in there with the season 5 DVD in his hand, sitting on a chair. You smile at him and show him the beers you got. ‘Dranks’.

He laughs.

You open a can and set the rest of the cans down on the floor. ‘So now that I have you alone’ you say. ‘What was that fighting all about?' ‘You asked me to’. ‘No, I know, but you went AT it. Like you were actually trying to hurt me’. ‘You’re being dramatic’ Loki says, avoiding your eyes as he gets up to go the DVD player. You grab his arm and make him turn to face you. ‘No, actually, I’m pretty sure I’m not. I’ve had intense sessions, and then there was whatever the hell you were doing. I’m asking nicely. Don’t make me ask again’.

His lips purse, and he studies you. There is no anger in your eyes. It does terrify him a little that you’re keeping calm.

‘Okay, fine, I don’t want you to go’ he confesses. ‘So you were trying to what, give me a fracture?’ ‘I just wanted to show you how dangerous it can be out there so you would change your mind about leaving’. ‘What!’ you start to laugh loudly. ‘You actually thought that would happen?’ ‘I don’t know. I thought it was worth a shot’ he furrows his brows. ‘You don’t have to laugh’. ‘Loki, you could literally kill me and I’d still get up and go’. ‘WHY?’ ‘Because I want to’ you say firmly. ‘You can’t stop me. If it troubles you, I won’t ask you to fight with me again. But don’t try and stop me’.

You let go of his arm, and it drops to his side, his shoulders slumping. He looks at you sadly.

‘Loki... what is it?’ you ask. ‘I’ve only just begun to feel like I belong, I can’t have you leave and maybe not come back’. ‘I haven’t even left, and you’ve gone and assumed me dead?’ this sounds so much like your mother, who had already assumed the worst case scenario before you even sent in your application to S.H.I.E.L.D.

‘It’s purely selfish’ he admits, ‘but I don’t want you to go. Please…’ he grabs your shoulders, ‘…reconsider’. ‘Loki, Tony wants me to go. But you have nothing to worry about. I’ll be fine’. ‘I know you will be’ he lets go of you. ‘I hate to admit it, but you did a great job today, which is why I stopped’.

You inwardly congratulate yourself for impressing the God of Mischief, but a smile does escape you. He sees it.

‘Don’t get used to the compliments’ he chuckles. ‘I’ll put on the DVD. You can get into bed’.

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Let me know if you want me to tag you when I post new chapters :)

#loki #loki x you #loki x reader #avengers fandom #loki fanfic #tom hiddleston x you #tom hiddleston #marvel fan fiction

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marvel-smut · 4 years

Note

Could you do a reader x Loki dating smut where reader has a toothache and Loki offers to fix it (normal way) then afterwards for being a good patient reader gets sex

Extra note: I am SO sorry this took so long and i am SO sorry that it's far from expectation.

Prompt: from Tumblr- reader has a toothache and loving boyfriend Loki requests to help (normal way) and then rewards her with sex for being a good patient.

Warnings: sex, tooth pain, Oral (female receiving), fingering, hickies, stuff like that.

Words: 3,715

Note: Yeah this took longer than needed to write. Sorry homie. Also added some jealous Loki which helps lead up to the reward so :) yeah i think its super cute. Got some vulnerable Loki in this mix. Oh yus.

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You groaned in pain as you tried to rub orajel into the gums behind your molars. Recently your wisdom teeth had decided to come in and push your back teeth forwards to make room. This caused your entire mouth to throb in pain all day.

A soft tap on the door startled you, but a quick glance in the mirror showed you that it was Loki.

"My love? Are you okay?" He asked sweetly, coming up behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist. He was always so clingy towards you, always whispering words of affection whenever he could, hoping that you thought he was enough for you. He strived to be perfect for you, not wanting to ever feel like he did when Odin was around him.

You were beyond happy with him, he made you feel like a queen and told you how much he loved you every single day.

"My wisdom teeth are starting to come in." You pouted, he pressed soft kisses behind your ear as you spoke.

"My poor little baby, do you want some help baby doll?" He asked, genuinely upset that you were hurting. Loki had seen you almost die countless times so to see him getting worked up about dental work was mildly amusing to you.

"How do you propose that, my king?" You whispered, laying your head back against his shoulder and looking up at a razor sharp cheekbone. He simply smiled and rubbed your stomach before speaking.

"Well... With my magic I can lull you to sleep, then I or a trained professional can take them out. Unless you'd rather me use magic to numb it. It would last much longer than this topical ointment." He suggested, grabbing the orajel and tossing it carelessly behind him so it clattered on the floor. You giggled softly, giving Loki's jaw a soft kiss before turning to face him.

"I prefer the sound of option two..." You replied after a moment. He nodded and turned suddenly, walking out of the room completely.

You sat there for a few minutes, swinging your legs and swaying side to side.

Loki came back in with a beautiful glass bottle, the contents a pretty translucent aqua colour. You tilted your head, looking at the bottle, then back at him. "What is it?"

"This, my love. Was from my mother. She gave it to Thor, and he gave it to me. Just now. Because I told him to." Loki explained as he came back to you, setting it to the side. "Now, fair warning, my queen. It tastes far from even decent. Some people can't even stomach it, they taste and it and almost immediately throw up. But lucky for you since your pain is in your mouth it'll take affect almost immediately, you only need an ounce of it for the pain to go away, okay my love?" Loki explained thoroughly, watching your nod as you stared at him. He smiled and kissed the tip of your nose softly. He uncapped the bottle and handed it to you.

You took the bottle, not expecting how light it was. Before you could back out a throbbing pain ran through your entire jaw and made you groan in pain. So without further hesitation you tipped the bottle back, taking two full swallows.

Loki took the bottle as soon as you lowered it from your lips and you understand exactly why once you swallowed.

The taste was bitter, absolutely foul to put it lightly. Your vision pulsed once, twice, and then once more. Your chest tightened, leaving you breathless and you felt an overwhelming feeling of nausea. Loki sensed it and grabbed the trashcan beside the toilet, holding it between the two of you as he held your upper arms, and your hands gripped the marble counter top you sat on.

But almost as suddenly as it hit, it left. You shook your head a few times before looking up at Loki, still making a foul face from the sharp taste that lingered.

"What the fuck was that."

"My mother was raised by witches, love. Who fucking knows what it is." He laughed, capping the bottle once more and putting the trashcan back when he was sure you weren't going to throw up.

"That's a good girl." He cooed, kissing your cheek as he went back to idly playing with your stomach.

You smiled, turning to face him, almost slipping but thankfully he held you. Your legs wrapped around Lokis waist, and your hands came to a light rest on his shoulders. He gave a kind smile, leaning forward to give you a sweet kiss.

"It feels so much better, thank you so much baby." You said before leaning forward to give the trickster a sweet kiss. He smiled and held you against him, hugging you as you nibbled on his lip.

"Darling, as much as I truly love kissing you and all I think we should eat dinner and shower. Then we can go back to this." Loki managed, pulling you away and having to force himself to ignore the pout you gave him. You nodded after hearing him out, sliding off the counter so he was pressed firmly against you and you gave him another quick kiss before sliding away and into the bedroom to put on clothes that you would be more comfortable with the team seeing you in. They had been so generous to let you and Loki stay here so you figured it’d be polite to not walk around in your tiny shorts that you usually wore to bed. They had never seen you in shorts except for training. Well, except Thor when he helped you with yours and Loki's one year anniversary.

You searched for clothes but groaned at the realization that laundry hadn't been done yet, so you stayed in your shorts and grabbed a black t-shirt from Loki's closet.

It was a bit tight, god knows the man was already bone thin and on top of that also preferred wearing t-shirts that were like a second skin. But you could tolerate this.

Loki walked in just as you were slipping on socks for your cold feet, he eyed your clothes cautiously before remembering he had forgotten to wash the clothes, damn.

You looked over at him, giving a warm smile and reaching out to grab his hand. You placed a soft kiss to his knuckles before standing up and patting his chest as you walked out of the room. He watched as you left, groaning softly as he watched the small jiggle of your ass and thighs.

Moments later you were in the dining room, Loki trailing behind you. He didn't miss the way Natasha, along with Steve and Bruce, all watched as you came in, eyes traveling up your legs slowly. You didn't really mind as you walked in, grabbed two drinks for you and Loki, then went to your seat and slid Loki's out beside you.

Everyone was looking at you, and when Tony walked in he paused. "Oh. Legs. Alright, you're in shorts. That’s new." Tony said as he sat in his seat across from you. Loki grumbled under his breath as he sat, taking his drink and holding your hand under the table. He didn't like people eyeing you up like you were a piece of meat up for grabs.

You giggled during dinner as Steve and Tony suddenly became comedians. You had no idea that Loki was struggling to keep his composure.

"Hey reindeer games, you look paler than usual. What's wrong?" Tony asked, looking up at him and then back to his own plate.

"I’m always pale, Tony." He said after only a second, looking at him and sitting up a bit more. You looked over, head tilted as you watched him. You could see past his entire mask and untangled your hands to rest your hand on his thigh and give it a gentle squeeze. He was upset, angry at the men, but he was showing insecurity. You tried calming him, but Steve and Tony went back to their games and Loki only got worse. Eventually you jumped up, pushing your chair back and gathering yours and Loki’s dishes. Everyone watched in confusion as you put the dishes in the sink and grabbed Loki's hand, dragging him behind you, muttering something about a shower and bed.

Once you were in the safety of the bedroom you turned to Loki, smiling as you stood on tip toes to kiss him quickly.

"Baby, are you really jealous?" You questioned, tilting your head as Loki's cheeks began to warm up.

"No. Not really. I mean, kind of." He shrugged, you rolled your eyes with a fond smile and tugged Loki into the bathroom.

"Well. How about this, I can apologize for cutting dinner short due to my attitude, and I can properly reward you for being a fantastic patient earlier." He offered as you turned on the shower and grabbed some towels. You paused for a moment, a grin breaking out as Loki leaned against the counter. You stood between his legs and leaned up to kiss his cheeks.

"I didn't do anything, I just sat there." You blushed, smiling at the thought of having Loki. The two of you hadn’t had any alone time in weeks, hardly any time for any intimacy. There had been so much research, so many missions, so much going on. So the mere thought of finally getting something going on made you truly tingle.

"You may have sat there, but that’s exactly what I needed you to do. I needed you to sit there and be a good girl for me, and that's exactly what you did. So now I want to reward you for being such a good girl."

"Can we do it before the shower, then?" You asked sweetly, giggling softly as Loki nodded. He lifted you with ease and slid you onto the counter, wedging himself between your soft thighs.

"Love, I will gladly do it anytime you ask." He smiled, nuzzling his cool face under your jaw to place neat, hot kisses along the skin you left exposed. He smirked as you tipped your head back and sucked in a sharp breath.

"Loki, my king. Don't tease too much?"

Your voice was desperate, your body already heating up as you felt his kisses dip lower. He sucked gently on the skin and followed with a soft bite.

"My love, teasing is my game. Just relax, let me pleasure you to the best of my capabilities." He whispered, you easily caved in to his sultry voice. You sat up just a bit as he ran his hands under the shirt and pulled it off, admiring your body before dipping down to leave more hickeys down your sternum. His cold hands moved from your thighs to your breasts, grabbing them both and tweaking the hard nipples.

"Such a good girl for me, isn't that right?" Loki whispered, making his way down further. Your legs instinctively spread wider, one leg coming up to rest on the counter to give Loki more space to go down further. Which he did.

"Fuck, Loki, please. Please please hurry, please don't stop." You whimpered, your core clenching around nothing.

Loki kneeled between your legs. He growled in the back of his throat.

"These fucking pathetic excuse for shorts. God, you can only wear them around me. I don't want these men to stare at the ass that belongs to me." He growled, one of his hands coming down and fisting around the material of the shorts between your legs.

"They're so thin, they’re so tiny. Right here they're practically covering the same as your pretty little panties." He snarled, snatching the black material to the side and leaning in.

Your body reacted instantly, trying to meet him in the middle to feel his warm tongue. But that didn’t happen. Loki’s free hand easily grabbed your hips and pushed them against the counter.

"Tsk tsk. Let me take care of you." He cooed, suddenly sweet and soft as he spoke to you.

"You... You can't expect me to just not want to ride your face when you say those things." You panted, blushing as Loki chuckled and leaned the final distance forward.

The warm pleasure flooded your senses instantly. You tried grinding your hips despite Loki's tight grip on them. His slick tongue lapped from your aching clit to your opening, then dipped in for only a moment before reeling back and coming up to massage over your swollen clit.

You basked in the feeling, your breathing laboured and coming out more as desperate gasps and moans. You could practically feel Loki smirk against your folds and glanced down, instantly regretting it as you saw him staring back up at you, watching his eyes move up to look at you. The sight of him between your legs made you whimper aloud, trying desperately to grind up against him.

He tsked and slapped your thigh, making you still instantly.

"Oh, god, Loki... Fuck, Loki. How do you do that with your tongue oh god..." You panted, one hand reaching down to card through the mans silky hair, gripping it at the roots. He puffed a rush of air through his nose so he didn’t have to remove his mouth. Your noises urged him to continue.

Your moans and whines filled the room and sent shivers down his spine as well. Your abdomen pooled with heat and you felt more of your juices flood out into his mouth. Loki didn't seem to mind at all, he actually let out a low groan at the taste of you. You felt his fingers press gently at your opening and you whined, trying to press down against them, trying to push them inside of you.

Loki sadly pulled away, leaving you panting and desperately trying to grind into nothingness simply to get friction.

"My queen, you will obey me when I demand that you stay still. I want to pleasure you so trust me to do it and pick you apart piece by piece until you're gasping for me to stop." He said smoothly, standing up and dusting off his knees. You really did whine at the change in position, but got cut off once more. "Oh? So you don't want me to fuck you, princess? I was going to destroy you but... I guess you just want to shower and get it over with, hmm?" He said slowly, watching your pout change into a smile.

"Oh. Oh, I just I thought that you were done... Please, Loki? It's been so long." You said with a pout, sliding your hands under the shorts and wiggling them down, taking the panties with them. Loki watched with hungry eyes. He quickly stripped himself and you giggled, biting the inside of your lip as he once again stood between your legs.

"I'm going to make you mine. And make sure you know that you're mine." He growled, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you off of the counter. He set you to your feet and turned you around, bending you over the counter so you faced the mirror and saw his reflection standing behind you. He was admiring your ass, grabbing handfuls of the soft skin, gently slapping at it, then spreading both cheeks.

The intensity of his stare made you blush and bite your lip, he caught your look and smirked at your reflection.

"Such a pretty body, gods. I’m glad to call you mine, pretty girl." He whispered against your skin as he leaned over you, placing soft kisses up your spine.

You felt Loki line himself up and press in, and you watched your face contort into a look of pure bliss. Your favorite part was always the initial breach. You loved feeling your body stretch for him.

"Oh, fuck. Loki." You gasped, feeling as if the air was pushed out of your lungs. He smirked and grabbed your hair, pulling your head back so you stared at yourself.

"You're mine, you’re my good girl, and nobody can please you like I can." He whispered, giving you long, powerful thrusts. They sent your body bouncing forward, then immediately pulling back to meet his thrusts.

He did eventually speed up, sparks and tingles running through your body as Loki fucked you. You were moaning constantly, meeting him thrust for thrust even as he sped up.

Despite the fact that you adored moments like this, where Loki strung you up high and gave you intense orgasms, you really just wanted to feel loved and be held.

Loki sensed the change in your enjoyment almost instantly, stopping his thrusts and bending over you to press soft kisses along your shoulder.

"My love? Are you okay?" He asked softly, concern clear as day. "If I'm doing something wrong please be sure to tell me, the last thing I want is for my queen to be upset." He cooed, you smiled at how soft he had gotten so suddenly despite the fact that he was clearly basking in pleasure only moments ago.

"I... I just, Loki. Can I face you? And maybe go a little slower? I really just want to be held and savour this moment." You said quietly, looking up at your reflection in the mirror. Loki had looked up to meet your stare and he nodded, pulling out of you and letting you turn yourself around and sit back on the counter.

"Then, rather than claim you as mine, how about I go ahead and give you that reward for being so good for me earlier, would you like that?" He asked with his gentle smile, pushing his hair out of his face and watching your nod.

You opened your legs again, wrapping them around Loki's slim waist. He repositioned himself and slid back in, the new angle making the both of you moan. You gripped his shoulders and he rested one hand on the counter and the other on your thigh as he began to thrust slowly.

"My beautiful queen, such a good girl. Such a good girl for me, yeah?" He whispered, properly grinning now as you nodded, your eyes fluttering closed and your mouth falling open.

"You were so good for me today, I'm so proud of you doing so splendid and letting me help you." He panted, now thrusting at a steady pace that helped build the orgasms for the both of you.

"Yes, oh fuck, Loki... Good girl, for you, yeah." You whined, nodding quickly and digging your nails into his shoulder, hearing his quiet hiss at the sting. The smooth feeling of his shaft against your walls turned your brain to mush and made you feel indescribably fantastic. Being close like this with Loki gave you time to appreciate just how gifted he is in the physically intimate way.

"Oh fuck, Loki you feel so good in me. Always wanna be good for you." You moaned, still rolling your hips down to meet his thrusts. Loki grunted and leaned down to kiss and suck on your neck, leaving behind light red and purple splotches.

"You already are so good to me, beautiful. You feel so good, so tight, fuck. Feels so good." He said lowly, grunting and reaching a hand between your bodies so he could easily rub and pinch your clit, using your juices to help ease this movement.

The electrifying feeling made you tense up, now feeling the hard drag of him against your insides, feeling how your body molded around him. It was as if you were made for Loki and he was made for you.

The sheer feeling of that sudden tightness made the both of you moan out loud again, your head falling forward to rest on his shoulder. Loki panted in your ear, grunting as he pleasured you to the best of his capabilities.

"Loki, fuck. Loki, baby. I'm gonna cum, gonna cum..." You panted, dragging your nails down his arms and giving a final cry when your orgasm hit.

The force had your hips canting up, your back arched against Loki's body and he quickly moved so he gripped your waist, never slowing his thrusts. The bliss seemed to last forever, black dots danced across your vision as you slowly relaxed, sucking in deep breaths to make up for the oxygen that was forced out of your lungs from the powerful moment.

Your limbs tingled but you let Loki use you, fucking into you much quicker now to chase his orgasm.

"Gonna cover your pretty body in my cum, darling. Gonna make you mine, would you like that?" He rasped, smirking at your slow nod. Loki still moaned and grunted as he barreled towards his end.

"Oh, fuck!" He hissed, pulling his hips back just as he came, his dick slid out of you and he was quick to run his hand over his shaft, tilting his head back and basking in the warm pleasure. His cum shot over your abdomen and your chest, leaving you feeling even more sticky. But it was definitely worth it.

You swallowed and took your time looking at Loki, he laughed at your exhausted state. He ran a bath and carefully carried you, sitting you in the tub between his legs.

"Did so good for me, my queen." He said sweetly, kissing your shoulder as you relaxed back against his chest. "Did so so good for me." He whispered, rubbing his hands under the hot water and over your torso to help get the cooling semen off of you.

"Thank you, love. Maybe I'll get hurt more often if I get that payout." You giggled, simply letting Loki do as he pleased. Letting him wash you and take extra good care of you before bringing you back to bed.

#Loki #Loki x female reader #marvel #mcu #marvel cinematic universe #mine #mine smut #Loki smut #18+#smut

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ohmeohmayohmy · 5 years

Text

With the Slightest Smile, Chapter 6

Taglist: @reedusteinrambles @juxt4p0siti0n @kurtnehhhh @singularpurplepansy @chlobo6

Notes: Tumblr was throwing a fit, so it’s taken a while to upload this bad boy. But good god, my heart is thawing out from that sweet, sweet Brian emotional turmoil. I love the man, and sometimes my heart aches for him. Maybe someday things will get better for him. I’d like to think so. Also, DAMN my boys are looking fine. 💕

Warnings: Implications of sexual nature (nothing in detail, no smut), a little bit of drinking, brief mention of body image issues, some F-bombs.

Words: 8.1k+

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August 20, 1973

4:04am.

Again.

Only twenty four hours ago, you spent sweet time with Brian, together in the kitchen you shared, enjoying each other's sleepy company. Presently, Brian was alone, laying in bed, trying not to watch helplessly as the time ticked away on his bedside clock. Twenty four hours ago, it was as if you were all his, and he was all yours. No one outside of the confines of the flat existed.

But life goes on.

You were still at work.

And Brian had yet to fall asleep.

He couldn’t stop thinking about what happened at the nightclub mere hours ago. What transpired between you and John. It was cycling through his mind on repeat: the hope in Deaky’s eyes, how enamored he looked through the haze of intoxication; your response, how you held your hand to his chest before telling him no. What Brian couldn’t seem to move past was how you said it. You made it clear that you had no intention of saying yes to John under the influence of alcohol, but that didn’t mean you would still refuse in another situation. He wanted so desperately to convince himself it was the man, not the moment, but all that would come to mind were images of you and John laughing, with you sharing a smile that Brian wanted for himself. It was all too familiar, and he didn’t think he could endure losing you to someone close again.

Years ago, he came up with the rule that neither of you would talk about romantic interests unless prompted. You agreed. He never asked, so you never told. Now, it was all Brian could do to not ask you how you felt about Deaky. He was afraid to know the answer, but god, he wanted to.

Though the window was cracked open and the fan was blowing, Brian felt that the air filling his room grew hotter and staler with each passing minute. He tried to get out from the blankets, to rid himself of any excessive insulation, but in doing so he only managed to get tangled up more deeply in the sheets. Kicking and straining, Brian’s right leg broke free, followed by his hips and torso, then he wriggled his left leg into the coolness of the bedroom. He flung his tee shirt from his clammy chest, and stripped his boxers, throwing them directly at the hamper across the way. None of it seemed to help.

No matter how free he was, Brian still suffocated in sorrow.

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September 27

“Nurse?”

You had your back turned to the desk, facing the center of the nurses’ station, your eyes closed shut. Strangely, the hospital lighting was giving you a headache. It seldom had that effect on you. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that you hadn’t taken a day off in a week, that you were sleep deprived. It didn’t matter.

“Nurse Y/L/N.” The person addressing you sounded more assertive. With a deep breath, you spun around to see whomever it was.

Doctor Tead.

“Hello, sir,” you spoke in a chipper tone, hiding your weariness. “Can I do something for you?”

“Perhaps. Nurse Roberts said your shift ended twenty minutes ago, but discovered you sitting here. Can you explain that?”

“Oh, well I—”

“We are not in the business of paying overtime for those who just sit taking a doze, do you understand?”

You nodded slowly.

“I can’t hear you.”

“Yes, sir.”

Doctor Tead relished in the moment. “Good girl,” he cooed in condescension, patting your hand, and began strutting off.

You watched the doctor disappear behind a patient’s door, fuming at his gross, patronizing comments. He wasn’t even the head of medicine; he was not your boss and had no real power over the nursing staff. Doctor Tead was the only person in the hospital that you harbored a sincere loathing for. He was a middle aged man who would hit on every new young nurse, and if one were to turn him down, he would make it his personal business to ruin her day. Needless to say, there were many recipients of Tead’s hectoring.

You grumbled as you slid from the seat, smoothed out your uniform, and grabbed your purse. Nurse Roberts, the head nurse, approached you after seeing that you were up.

“Take a couple of days off, honey.”

She was a stern, intimidating woman, but she cared for her nurses with intense compassion. You smiled at her before she could return to her other tasks. “I will see you on Sunday.” With a wave of the hand, she was gone.

You exited through the ward’s doors and began your descent downstairs. The main lobby of the hospital was fairly empty, there was only a visiting family and a few new admittances waiting to be brought up. A nurse standing by the front desk said goodbye before you walked outside. You exchanged some quick pleasantries, then continued on your way. Coming upon the parking lot, your attention was caught by someone walking toward you. He grinned at you. It was one of the younger doctors, Arthur Carlisle.

“Hello, Y/L/N,” he stopped to greet you. “Leaving so soon? Just when I arrive?” He teased you, as he often did, but you weren’t in the mood.

“Shift’s up.” You felt bad for being curt, but getting away from there was your current priority. “Have to get home.” When you tried to sidestep past him, he stuck an arm out.

“Are you alright?”

“I am tired.” You pushed his arm down and out of your way. “Have a nice evening, Doctor Carlisle.” You started to walk again, at a faster pace than before.

“Wait, Y/N,” the doctor called after you. You tensed at the sound of your first name being used. Only other nurses would address you as such. Never doctors. You didn’t take another step, but you didn’t look back at him either. Taking that as an invitation, Carlisle came up to stand next to you. “I’ll give him hell for you,” he said, referring to Tead. You gave him a tiny smirk, then carried on to the nearby stop for the Tube. “And it’s Arthur to you!”

* * *

Rides home were the few times where you could sit back and immerse yourself in your headspace without interference. People wouldn’t bother you in your nurse’s uniform if you appeared to be sleeping–they wouldn’t dare disturb you.

You leaned against the back of your seat, resting your head on the window to your left. You placed your legs up beside you, since your row was otherwise vacant. The rattle of the train was soothing, giving enough noise to make you feel not as alone as you did, but not enough to distract or interrupt your thoughts.

You hadn’t spent time with the band over the course of the last month, only barely seeing Brian when your schedules allowed for it. Roger stopped by once or twice to get things from Brian while you were home, but that was the extent of interaction. You wanted to distance yourself, give any drama that was bubbling up a chance to simmer down. What John had said on his birthday made you question how much time and attention you were giving to the group, and the implications behind it all. You didn’t mean to give anyone the wrong idea. You didn’t want to give anyone the wrong idea. So, you decided it best to stop hanging around the studio for a while. Brian concurred a little too hastily.

Stella kept you company on most of the nights when near-isolation became too much, and Brian was busy. Sometimes her girlfriend, Odette, would join in the festivities of the evening, bringing in pastries from the bakery she ran, but mostly Stella would come alone and let you rant as much as necessary. You found it easier to get riled up on certain days, especially those on which you had interactions with Doctor Tead. More often than not, however, you would sip on the champagne Stella brought with her and speak tipsy, teary musings about love and life. She found the spectacle very amusing, being the sober onlooker.

The screech of brakes echoed through the traincar, taking you out of your head. When you came out onto the street, you noticed the sky was still speckled with rosy-hued streaks and creamy clouds. The trees lining the streets framed the sight like a painting, and you felt like a piece of the art just by witnessing it. You slowly made your way home, passing several people. Some you recognized and others you didn’t, but you flashed a tired smile at anyone who came your way. With work behind you, you wanted to move forward in the day with happiness instead of resentment. The closer you got to your building, the bigger your smile became. Noting that Brian’s car was parked in its usual place, you quickened your gait. As you came up the indoor stairwell, you fished through your purse for keys.

I really do need to clear this thing out.

Walking through the hallway, you smelled something cooking. Making it to your door, you located the source of the scent and heard music playing. The light streaming through the gap between the door and the floor was faint. You hesitantly turned the key in the lock, hoping you weren’t about to interrupt anything. Pushing the door open enough to squeeze through, you glanced around the living room.

No one was there, but there were lit candles twinkling on every surface you could see. You didn’t think you and Brian even possessed that many candles between the two of you.

You tiptoed to the kitchen, trying to remain as inaudible as possible. The countertops were absolutely spotless, and there were two unused wine glasses set out next to a fresh platter of butternut squash ravioli and a bowl of simple tossed salad. You took in a whiff of the food, making your mouth water. It was one of your favorite dishes, and the only thing you had eaten since your shift started at 5 o’clock that morning was an apple. Shaking your head to rid yourself of the temptation, you left the kitchen to see if anyone was in the flat. You knew Brian’s car was downstairs, but you couldn’t know for certain that he was alone.

Inching down to Brian’s bedroom, you could make out a gentle whimper from behind his door. It was quiet, but as you got nearer to it, the more distinct it became. You grew worried, beginning to take larger strides. Then the soft whimpering was accompanied by some panting. It struck you. You didn’t want to barge in on him if he was with a girl, so you froze just short of the doorway with a hand in the air prepared to knock, stopped out of not wanting to intrude on Brian’s privacy. You felt stuck to the floor, unable to move your feet.

To your horror, the door suddenly flew open, and you stood face to face with a sweaty Brian. Upon seeing you, his eyes widened and his expression was mortified. His face was red, possibly from embarrassment, but that was probably not the sole factor. He cleared his throat.

“I’m sorry, Brian,” you spoke first, and started babbling, “I didn’t know you had company. I would’ve made myself scarce or—”

“Oh, no no no no,” he shook his hands in front of his body with great fervor. “I’m, uh, I’m alone.”

You furrowed your brow, confused by the romantic atmosphere. The candles. The wine. The fancy food.

Wow.

You didn’t know what to say.

Say something!

“You really go all out when romancing yourself, huh?”

Anything would have been better than that! Silence is better than that!

You clapped a hand over your mouth, ashamed. You couldn’t bring yourself to make eye contact with your best friend. He towered over you, but somehow, he stood small.

“Sorry,” you whispered from behind your hand. Brian chuckled awkwardly.

“It’s alright, Y/N.”

You looked up at him, and could see his eyes screaming, but decidedly didn’t say anything about it out of gratitude for his understanding. Due to the sheer discomfort, you started laughing involuntarily, with your hand still placed over your mouth. Brian reached out a hand to put it on your shoulder, to calm you, but decided that wouldn’t be best.

You straightened up, wiping a tear of laughter from your eye. “Did you wait for me to have dinner?” He nodded, his gaze intense but sweet. You weren’t paying enough attention to see that.

“I wasn’t sure when you’d be home, exactly,” Brian played with his hair. “It should still be warm. At least, I hope so.”

“Mind if I clean myself up first?” You bit your lip, gesturing to your uniform.

“I was about to ask you the same,” he said, lighthearted. You beamed at his delicate face.

“After you,” you motioned to the bathroom door. Brian gave you a funny look, but you weren’t thinking about your words. He dipped his head and ducked into the room.

You turned to grab clean clothes from your bedroom and kick the shoes off your aching feet. Brian came out after a couple minutes.

“All yours,” he peered into your room with a smile painfully plastered across his cheeks. You gathered up your things and went to turn the water on. A scalding hot shower was all you needed to wash the day away.

* * *

Brian felt foolish as he waited for you to finish your shower. You didn’t seem to understand what he was putting out for you, running around making the flat more presentable. Or the energy he spent trying to figure out how to make ravioli from scratch, and the time it took to ask for help from one of your neighbors when he broke down over his cooking failure. Even getting hold of and lighting all the candles was a larger undertaking than he anticipated. If you couldn’t see what he was trying to tell you, maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to bring it up.

You finally opened the bathroom door, steam rolling out through the hall like a thick fog. Stepping into the living room, you radiated warmth. Brian watched you approach him in your purple pajama set, hair still wet but not dripping. The flickering of the candles reflected in the satiny fabric covering your body. Brian had to force his eyes to keep them from dancing all over your figure. He gulped, hoping you wouldn’t notice.

“Should I get down some plates for us?” You started for the cupboard.

“No,” Brian reached out a hand to touch you. “You don’t need to lift a finger, go take a seat. ’Ve got it.” He smiled genuinely, urging you to relax. You appreciated the sentiment, so you went to throw yourself on the sofa.

A few moments later, Brian set down a wine glass in front of you and one in front of the worn “study chair”, where he would sit. He popped open a new bottle of moscato and poured a generous amount into each of your cups. Placing the bottle on the far end of the coffee table, he spun around and marched back into the kitchen. You heard the clanging of some dishes, setting you on edge, but when Brian reemerged with two plates of ravioli and salad, you lazed back into the softness of the couch. He settled into his customary position.

“Cheers,” he held out his glass.

“Cheers.” You smiled into your drink as you took a sip.

Brian had some trouble getting a ravioli to latch onto the prongs of his fork. It was enough to entertain you, until he gave up and started on his salad. You were not met with the same difficulty, and smugly scooped a piece of the entree into your mouth, making sure Brian was watching. He stuck out his tongue, then with a stroke of luck, managed to get one to stay long enough for him to eat.

Of course, it was all a show for you. He just wanted to make you happy. He had spoken to Stella earlier when she called for you, and she let it slip that you were having a hard time lately, between your problems at work and the sudden separation from her other friends, the boys.

“So, what’s all of this, then?” You glanced around at the candles and the cleanliness.

In that moment, Brian decided to put off any big revelations for another time. You were exhausted and needed some time to enjoy yourself, without clouds of worry. He looked down and grinned softly.

“Wanted to celebrate you,” Brian’s voice matched his expression.

You didn’t understand what he meant. You never did.

He perked up. “I mean, someone ought to. You’re one of our country’s finest healers!” His playful exclamation hit you with a wave of affection. You could tell he was trying to cheer you up, and you could feel it working.

“Well, I don’t know about that—”

“I do.”

The conversation subsided as you both took a moment to eat the food before you.

“This is delicious,” you said in between bites. “Did you get it from Sicilian Cafe?”

Brian shook his head, mouth still full of salad. “No,” he swallowed, “I actually made it from scratch.”

You were awed. “Really?” He nodded, feeling slightly guilty for not including the part where the culinary student, who lived on the floor below, helped only after having him cry to her for several minutes, but he didn’t find it to be a necessary detail. He liked your amazement, it made him feel good.

“You’re quite impressive, Mister May.”

Brian took a swig from his wine, finishing off the contents of his glass. Noticing, you picked up the bottle and handed it to him. He thanked you.

“Would you mind topping me off too? ’S been a long week.” Brian complied.

In the middle of taking a drink, something occurred to him. “Oh!” He spilled some wine on the floor. You jumped up to grab a rag to clean it up. Brian took it from you and dabbed at the spillage.

“Sorry, Y/N.”

“Don’t be. I’m just amazed you’re actually cleaning something up,” you teased. “Anyway, what were you thinking about that caused such a frenzy?”

“Well,” he started, draping the rag over the arm of his chair. “The boys and I have been working with these great guys, y’know, Mott the Hoople?” You nodded, vaguely remembering talking to Freddie about them. “And they’ve asked us to tour with them!” Your jaw dropped.

“They what? When?!”

“It was made official a couple days ago, and we’re starting in Leeds in November.”

You got up from your seat and wrapped your arms around Brian. He pulled you onto his lap so he could hold you tighter. You stroked his hair.

“Oh, Bri, I am so proud of you.” As you whispered into his ear, you could feel some tears welling up in your eyes. You pulled back for a second, to look at him. “See? I told you, you were meant to do great things.” Brian gripped onto one of your wrists and brought your hand closer to him. Before he could stop himself, he laid a tender kiss on top of your thumb. Startled, you abruptly pulled your hand away, not expecting the action. He looked upset, or guilty, and you couldn’t decide which.

Maybe he’s getting caught up in the excitement, you thought, writing it off as an intimate gesture shared between good friends in an intimate moment. You got up from where you sat, but shot Brian a reassuring smile, and began to pick up the empty plates. He sprung out of the chair.

“Oh, you don’t have to do—” he cut himself off, “I made dessert, too.”

You put the dishes back down on the table, unsure what to do.

A pause. You hesitated for a bit while debating the notion, but gave into your cravings. “What did you make?”

Brian smiled devilishly. “Red velvet.” He knew you loved the cream cheese frosting, and he was proud that he could actually make it by himself.

You sucked your bottom lip in between your teeth. “You’re too good to me, Brian May. God, what did I do to deserve you?” Brian blushed and turned to go into the kitchen.

Once you were alone, you finally recognized that music was still playing on Brian’s old record player. It was a collection of Ella Fitzgerald standards, one of your favorite albums. Your father gifted it to you for your thirteenth birthday. Wishing you had paid more attention, you could tell you missed most of the tracks. The jazz swelling through the air had a physical effect on you, you found new energy to sway and sing along.

In the kitchen, Brian brought out a lopsided cake covered in lumpy frosting. The flowers that were originally envisioned appeared to be pink globs of disappointment. He frowned, thinking it was glorious before, but now, he only felt embarrassment at the idea of presenting it to you. With a sad sigh and a small shrug, he took out a knife and cut two slices. From where he stood, Brian could hear your voice softly carrying the tune of “Dream a Little Dream of Me” and the faint pattering of your feet dancing across the creaky wooden planks. The thought of you joyfully moving to the rhythm in your skimpy sleep shorts, and your damp hair twisted up in a messy ‘do was enough to jolt him from his pitiful mood.

When he came out with the small dessert plates in hand, Brian was overcome at the sight of you. You had your eyes closed, your hips swaying to and fro, your feet occasionally making steps from one side to the other. He leaned against the wall closest to him and began to sing along with you. You noticed the shift in sound and glanced at Brian.

He started to sing Louis Armstrong��s harmony, so you joined as Ella came in. You walked up to him to take the slices of cake and put them on the coffee table. As you did, Brian came closer and you turned to take his hand in yours. He laughed a little as you grooved more playfully, smiling at your touch. You let him go to show off some disco moves in slow motion, fitting them to the tempo of the song. Brian tried to mirror your actions, but to no avail. His own movements were clumsy and looked very unnatural for him, so you reached out to him again to take him into your arms. Brian was more comfortable that way. Since it was the last song on the record, you let it play through to a full stop.

You released your friend from your grasp to adjust your top. Brian shyly moved to his chair to await your company before touching his dessert. You lounged on the sofa, dangling your clean feet over the arm nearest to him. He offered you the plate with your piece of cake on it, which you happily accepted. Grabbing your fork, you shoveled a portion into your mouth without studying the decorations. Brian felt a little relieved that you weren’t interested in observing the slice.

“This is delicious,” you said with half a bite still in the process of being consumed. Brian usually despised loud chewing noises, but he overlooked them, enjoying your delight.

“I do what I can.”

You were so grateful for this random little “celebration” he put on for you. You didn’t even question the candlelit meal for a second.

“So, how were the boys? Just as thrilled as you?”

Brian chuckled. “Roger and Fred were practically bouncing off the walls.” He intentionally didn’t mention John.

“Do you know the first date yet? I could try to request the day off.” You scrambled for another bite.

“I am not quite sure. I think it’s the fifth or sixth.”

“Well, I could come with you to the studio tomorrow to confirm. ’Ve been given a break until Sunday.”

Brian shifted his position. “We’re actually not in the studio tomorrow.”

You were disappointed, but tried to hide it. Brian could tell. He cleared his throat.

“But we are going to do some shopping, if you’d be interested.”

That perked you right up again.

“Yeah? All of you?”

“As if Freddie would let us pick out our own performance wear,” Brian scoffed. You nodded in agreement. “He says we’ve got to be more ‘glam’.”

You blew out, raising your eyebrows, and nodded again with more subtlety. “I wouldn’t say you or John have the flashiest of wardrobes.” Brian narrowed his eyes with indignation. “Now Roger…” You shrugged, indicating that you considered his fashion to be more adventurous. “But I think Freddie could only be described as ‘extravagant’, ‘glam’ is too mundane.”

Brian loosened up at the notion. “I think he would prefer that, too.”

You finished your dessert and stood up to clear the table. Brian got up to help you, taking the large dinner plates while you grabbed the wine glasses and dessert dishes. You directed him to put everything on the countertop, and turned on the water for it to warm.

“Stella could come too, if you’d like,” he tried to steer the conversation back to the outing.

You snorted, not looking up from the plate you were washing. “You know how she feels about Roger.”

“But she loves judging fashion.”

“As much as she despises him?”

“But she could judge his fashion.” Brian had a gleam in his eye, and it didn’t stem from the excitement that the promise of dish drying provided.

You stopped what you were doing to face him. “I think she’ll pass.” Brian threw his hands up to show defeat, waving the white dish rag in surrender. You returned to your task.

The sound of the faucet was the only noise for a few moments.

“How was work today, Y/N?” He changed the subject, knowing only what Stella had told him over the phone about the past week. You groaned.

“Hellish.”

“Anything out of the ordinary?”

“Not really. Doctor Tead was a total rotter, as usual.” You thought about it some more. “Doctor Carlisle called me by my name.”

Brian was perplexed by the oddity of the interaction, until he remembered the complete division between doctors and nurses. But he hadn’t heard this name before. “Who’s that?”

“He’s one of the younger members of the medical staff. Strange. Great physician.” You paused. “The children adore him. He even lets them call him Arty.”

“Was he there when Tead was around?”

“No, he’d only just arrived as I was leaving. We have wonky timing like that. One of us is always going out as the other is coming in.”

“Does he usually call you that?”

You shook your head. “First time. He even tried to get me to call him Arthur.”

“Maybe he wants to recruit you to join him at the Round Table.”

You threw the sponge into its basket after finishing your cleaning duties. “I think I’d make a great Sir Lancelot.” You puffed out your chest.

“Lady Guinevere,” Brian considered.

“Because I’m a girl?”

“I was thinking I would be Lady Guinevere. You’re the handsome knight who steals me away.”

“Ooh, I don’t know,” you tutted. “I wouldn’t want to get in the way of anything between you and Doctor Carlisle.” Brian looked unamused, but he didn’t really mind. He secretly loved the silly banter.

“We better blow all the candles out before we both forget and go to bed.” You shifted the topic of conversation again.

Brian’s face grew red at the mention of it. He wanted to forget where he had planned the evening to go. Before you could even make a step in the direction of the living room, Brian darted out of the kitchen. It was the fastest you’d seen him move in a while. You followed shortly behind, but most of the flames had been put out by the time you joined him.

“Brian?” You piped up. He looked up at you. “Why so many candles?”

So close. He was so close to avoiding the subject. Thankfully, he could think well on his feet.

“Just thought you might appreciate some softer lighting after a long day in the hospital.”

“How did you know?”

“Lucky guess?”

You accepted his answer, blowing on the last of the flaming wicks, and took a seat.

“I think I should go to bed,” Brian began rushing off to his bedroom.

“It’s barely even dark outside.”

He stopped. “Today’s been longer than you could imagine.”

You were unimpressed. “Is that a challenge?” You folded your arms over your chest.

“I’m simply saying I don’t have your motivation—”

“You were able to be at home all day, lounging like some lizard on a hot rock.” Brian laughed at your odd simile. You cracked a smile too. “Please? We hardly get to just sit and enjoy time without having to be anywhere, anymore.”

“If you insist, love.” He moved to return to his designated chair, but before he could sit down, you patted down on the cushion next to you. He acted nonchalant, taking his time before joining you.

“So, when are we going out on the town tomorrow?” You tossed your legs over Brian’s lap, and leaned back to lay on one of the throw pillows you had picked out years before.

“I know Fred will want to be up and at ’em early, but the rest of us probably aren’t planning to get out of bed until at least eleven.”

You were content with that. “I can do eleven.”

“Fortunately for us, he can’t drive. So he can’t just show up unannounced.”

“Unless he gets Roger to do his bidding,” you said dryly. You couldn’t forget the time Freddie had walked in on your floury wrestling match not long ago.

“I don’t think anyone could get Rog rallied and presentable before ten,” Brian joked, the thought going over his head.

“Then let’s hope for that. Nothing before ten.”

_______________

September 28

The morning came all too quickly. However, you and Brian were ready to go before you even got a call from the others, telling you to hurry yourselves. Out of the lot of them, Brian was notorious for sleeping in. However, Freddie was the one who was consistently arriving late. Unless he was the one organizing the outing.

You were sitting on the couch, flipping through a magazine while waiting for Brian to locate his trainers.

“Did you look under the mound of laundry?” You shouted out to him. You could hear a grunt of umbrage, causing you to wrinkle your nose in response. “Well?”

Brian appeared through the entry, looking triumphant with a black pair of dirty Converse hanging by their laces from his fingers.

“And where were they?” You returned your focus on the images in front of you.

Brian sighed. “Under the laundry,” he mumbled. He kneeled to lace up the shoes.

“Interesting.” You tossed the magazine onto the coffee table and set your feet on the ground. He stood at the same time. “Ready, m’lady?” You offered the crook of your arm to Brian. He scrunched his face in confusion. “Guinevere,” you elaborated. His mouth formed an O with remembrance, bobbing his head lazily.

“Did you call by Roger’s place, letting ’im know we’re on our way?”

“Yes, a couple minutes ago. Fred thought you should forget about those old things,” you sneered as you pointed to Brian’s feet, “but I told him to forget about that awful peacock hat of his, and it shut him up nicely.”

“Fred was there?”

“And John was too. I figure they spent the night.”

Brian brought his shoulders up slightly. “Convenient for us, that means we only have to make one stop.” He grabbed the keys from the counter. “Suppose we better go.”

You beat him to the door and swung it open, moving into the hall. Brian slammed it behind him, dropping his keys simultaneously. You both bent down to grab them, and again, you beat him to it. But his hand engulfed yours anyway, not fully thinking nor looking. You breathed softly, bringing your sights up to his eyes.

Hazel.

You smiled.

I always forget.

He returned the smile, his own breath hitching in his throat.

The stillness was interrupted by someone stomping up the stairs. It was the neighbor whose flat was across from yours. You never could recall his name. He looked down at the pair of you and blew air through his nose, humor crinkling around his eyes.

“How many people does it take to grab keys off the floor?”

“Two, apparently,” you sassed, still locked in your crouching position with Brian. You didn’t look at him, but you could feel that his gaze never left your face.

The humor faded and your neighbor scowled as he pushed his own door open, going inside and closing it without another look. With a sigh of satisfaction, you got up from the ground, bringing Brian with you.

“Lonely sot,” you murmured to Brian, who tossed his head back with silent laughter.

* * *

“Look who’s here,” Freddie chirped, widening the door to Roger’s flat for you and Brian to enter through. Brian spoke a quiet greeting, but Fred ignored him and wrapped himself around you. He pressed a kiss on your forehead. “How are you, darling?”

You sunk further into his grasp. “I’m alright, Fred. Missed you.”

He pulled out of the embrace to grab your shoulders, looking you square in the eye. “You can’t leave us alone again for that long, Y/N. We nearly strangled each other every chance we got.”

“Yeah, a medical professional would be helpful if one of us actually went through with it,” Roger chimed in, moving Freddie out of the way to get to you. He winked at you before pulling you into his arms. “Glad to see you.”

You giggled. “You’re all talking like I dropped off the face of the planet, or something. I was busy with work, you know that.” You pressed your palm into one of Roger’s shoulders, playing. You hadn’t said anything to him or Freddie about what they missed on John’s birthday, and highly doubted Brian or Deaky himself would bring it up. Work was your excuse, and they didn’t question it.

You swiveled your head around to find John standing alone, halfway across the room. He gave a small wave before slowly making his way over to the rest of you. “Hi, Y/N.” John looked down at his feet. You noticed he wasn’t wearing any shoes.

Is he not coming?

With timidity, Deaky pecked your cheek quickly, but not quick enough for Brian to miss it.

He clenched his jaw.

“You boys ready to go?” You tore your focus from John to address the others.

“Yeah.”

“I’ve been ready to give Brian a new wardrobe since the day I met him.”

Brian looked exasperated by Freddie’s remark, but you and Roger couldn’t hold back your chuckles.

“No Mary?” You asked Fred.

“She won’t be joining us. Has work to do, or some other nonsense,” he joked. You smirked.

In the brief moments of your reunion with Roger, John, and Freddie, you already felt more emotionally fulfilled. Brian saw the content on your face.

You turned back to John. “Where are your shoes?” He looked dumbfounded. You looked at Brian. “Maybe they’re under your dirty clothes, too.” He rolled his eyes, but all in good fun.

Freddie gasped dramatically. “Is it really that bad?” You gave an overexaggerated nod.

“It is not!”

“Ah, shut up, Bri.” Roger batted a hand at the taller man.

“You’ve got room to talk,” Brian said sarcastically, motioning his arms to the entirety of Roger’s flat. “At least I’m just messy and not dirty.”

“Is there even a fucking difference?”

“There is a very important distinction!”

“And what exactly would that be?”

“One involves messes and the other involves dirt!”

You and Freddie exchanged looks, amused by the childish tiff. He glanced at the clock on the table and cleared his throat.

“Dears?” Freddie spoke calmly and politely. Brian and Roger stepped back from each other and looked at him. “We should be going.” You were dazzled by his sunny behavior. The other two grumbled as they started for the door. Freddie put an arm around both of their shoulders, saying things you didn’t care to listen to.

You walked closer to John.

“Hi,” you whispered kindly.

“Hello.” He spoke with a far away look in his eyes.

“How’re you?”

Deaky looked back down to his feet. You were discouraged, seeing him appear uncomfortable even after a month of evasion.

“I’m sorry.” He wouldn’t look at you.

Your heart broke a little for him. You reached for one of the limp hands hanging to his side, keeping it firmly in your own.

“It’s alright, sunshine,” you muttered. “I know you didn’t mean it.” Those words caused him to meet your gaze. John opened his mouth to object, but didn’t say anything when he saw the compassion in your eyes.

He knew you were lying.

You knew he had told the truth.

The door closed. You both turned to see what happened. Only Freddie remained in the flat with you. He had his arms crossed and a sly look scrawled across his face.

“I managed to get TweedleDee and TweedleDum out to bring the car around.” He sighed. “They even argued about whose car we were using.”

John looked horrified.

“Don’t worry, Deaky, I didn’t hear a thing.”

Neither of you could tell if he was being sincere or not.

A lull filled the space. You weren’t sure what to do, or say.

“Who are TweedleDee and TweedleDum?”

“Love, haven’t you seen that Disney film?” You both shook your heads. Freddie grinned.

“It’s a fantastic trip.”

* * *

The ride into town was long.

You resented being squished in the back between Roger and Deaky. Brian had won the argument over who would get to drive, and Freddie insisted on riding up front next to him, claiming it was his “birthright as the oldest”. You relented, knowing you wouldn’t be able to go up against him.

John mumbled to himself, “Still think we should’ve taken the train.” You mentally agreed with him, but sat in silence.

Periodically, Roger would ask you something about the hospital, reminding you that he once was a biology student, studying to be a practitioner of dentistry. You were happy to engage in conversation, enjoying the chance to talk about it with someone you didn’t work with. Brian was a brilliant man, and understood the concepts you mentioned, but sometimes you felt as though he thought too much when you spoke to him about medicine; he would often respond with a tidbit about physics.

Brian glanced in the rear view mirror to see the back seat, and saw Roger’s arm resting on his leg, his hand cradling his chin. You talked with excitement in your voice and eyes, causing Roger to hang onto every word you said. John was staring out the window, unresponsive. Brian was so distracted by the scene behind him, he forgot about the world in front of him. Freddie tapped him on the shoulder, making him snap out of it, and pointed to the road ahead, full of traffic. Brian slammed on the brakes, causing Beatrix to lurch and let out a concerning noise. Roger, not paying attention, hit his head on the back of Freddie’s seat.

“Ow!” He rubbed his forehead. “I thought you were supposed to be a good driver, May.”

“Still better than you, Taylor,” Brian huffed.

“Oh, stop it, you two.” Freddie sounded playful, but you all could tell he was growing tired of the bickering.

“So,” you spoke up, more cheerful than your company. “Where exactly are you bringing us, Fred?”

“Excellent question, Y/N! None of these simpletons even bothered to ask.” He glared into the mirror, pointedly at Roger, then to John. “There’s this lovely little shop where my friend Minnie works. She said she could get us good deals on the merchandise.”

“That’s great!”

No one else said a thing. Brian reached for the knob to turn up the radio, but Freddie slapped his hand away.

“I was also thinking we could go for lunch, but only if I see some spirits rise.”

“Eh, if they want to mope, maybe just you and I will go.” You patted Freddie’s shoulder.

John lifted his head from the window and sat up straight, the height difference between the two of you suddenly very prominent. “I think that sounds nice.” He hadn’t said much during the drive, except the occasional sassy comment made under his breath that only you were able to hear. You smiled at his change in demeanor.

* * *

There were velvet trousers in every hue. Satin shirts with zany patterns. Jewelry of varying designs. It was sort of what you imagined Freddie’s paradise to be like.

You dragged Brian by the hand to go through some tops you thought he’d be fond of. He was never hesitant about more feminine styles. He loved lacy things. You held up a black shirt with large sleeves up against your body, trying to get him to imagine what it would look like on a body. Brian had a moment of deja vu.

--October 25, 1961--

“Which one do you like better?” Brian asked you, holding up a flowy purple dress, followed by a longer blue one, then switching back and forth between them.

In your hands, you held a delicate white frock. The fabric glistened in the sunlight from the window behind you. You watched Brian twirl the garments around for your benefit, insisting it would help you “envision the silhouette” better. You giggled when he lifted the hanger of the purple one over his head, setting it around his neck.

“Well, I think that one suits you nicely.”

“Ya think so?” He craned his neck downward to get a better look at it from his angle. “Think it works with my womanly figure?” Brian shimmied for you, letting the dress swing around in front of his gangly frame. You put the white one back on its rack and gave him a cheer, accompanied by an enthusiastic round of applause.

The other patrons of the shop glared at the two rowdy teenagers disrupting the quiet atmosphere. Neither of you cared, wrapped up in the fun you were having. Brian only stopped dancing when he noticed a young man, who appeared to be several years older than himself, smiling at him. He was with his girlfriend, at least Brian thought it was his girlfriend, who was sifting through a section of evening wear. She would hold up a glittering gown to see his reaction, and if he seemed to like it, she’d drape it over her forearm with the others he approved of. Everytime he said something kind, the young woman would gaze up at him with pure adoration. Brian hoped others thought you looked at him like that.

“I just don’t know if I could pull it off.”

Brian came out of his trance to focus on you. He hung the blue dress back where he found it. “What do you mean?”

You bit your cheek.

“It’s certainly beautiful, but I don’t think it would look as nice on me as is does on the hanger.” You lowered your eyes, feeling vulnerable.

Being in a place full of gorgeous women with attire to match made you feel self-conscious. You thought that puberty hadn’t been kind to you, you felt like a stranger in your own skin. In fact, you only worked up the nerve to go in when Brian said he would try on dresses with you.

For once, Brian felt like he wasn’t the frightened one.

“Oh, don’t be so fucking ridiculous.”

Your mouth was agape, you were shocked by the words that escaped his lips. He scrambled to find the words he meant to say, realizing that wasn’t a great start.

“A hanger’s only an object. Nothing can look beautiful on a hanger.” He shifted his weight into his right hip. “At least, not in comparison to the beauty it can reflect when it’s on someone.” He coughed, then lowered his voice. “On you.”

At this point, Brian knew he felt something for you. A little more than friendship. Or a lot more. He came to terms with the emotions some months ago, but he had hoped it would have subsided by now.

A schoolboy crush on his best friend shouldn’t last longer than a few months, right?

Teary eyed, you reached up your arms to loop them around the nape of his neck. Brian ducked down a bit for you to get a better hold, letting you pull him closer to you.

“I love you, Bri,” you whispered.

He melted where he stood. Could it be?

“You’re the best friend I could ever imagine.”

Oh.

“God, what did I do to deserve you?”

The words rang through his ears.

“You came into my life,” Brian whispered back. “That’s all.”

--1973--

“And I think this would go nicely with that pair of velvets you own.” You could see that Brian was in a daze. “Well?”

He blinked slowly, bringing his drooping eyelids up halfway to look at you. “Hmm?”

“What do you think?”

He was brought back into the present.

“Oh, I think it’s great.” He wasn’t even sure what “it” was.

You beamed. “Good! Now, Roger’s trying some stuff on. You should go join him in the back.” You unloaded the items from your arms and transferred them to Brian. Then you pointed his shoulders in the right direction.

Brian marched to the fitting rooms, finding a half naked Roger flexing in a mirror. Brian stopped in his tracks, but Roger was unfazed.

“Whaddya think?” He posed, showing off the obnoxious pants he was wearing, paired with nothing but a fringed vest.

Brian raised an eyebrow. “Did Fred pick that out for you?”

“No,” Roger continued staring at his reflection. “This is all me.”

“Ah. Makes sense.” Brian scoffed as he pushed past the blond and drew the curtain to the dressing area. Roger came in behind him, not caring that it was meant to be a personal space.

“What’s the matter with you?”

“Well, for starters, you’re in my fitting room.” Brian frowned.

“Oh, don’t start that with me.” Roger pointed a finger at Brian. “You’ve been moody all day.”

Brian snorted at the remark. “I could say the same about you!”

Roger stared at his friend with dispassion. Then something dawned on him. “Brian?”

The guitarist fell silent.

“Did you and Y/N get in a fight or somethin’?”

“No. We didn’t fight.”

Roger had a thought, but dismissed it with laughter. Brian’s scowl hardened, making Roger feel required to say it aloud. “Sorry, mate, I was just thinkin’ you were too angry to have fucked.” Brian’s nose twitched. Roger stopped laughing. “Did you and Y/N fuck?” His voice was at a much lower pitch.

“No,” Brian growled through gritted teeth. “It’s not like that between us. You know that.”

Roger had a gleam in his eye. “But do you want it to be?” Brian’s expression softened, giving him all the confirmation he needed.

“Not exactly.” Brian confided, shifting uncomfortably in the small stall made for one person.

“Then what exactly?”

Brian’s heart was pounding. In twelve years, he had only told one person what he was about to tell Roger.

* * *

Roger stood silent for a moment, taking in what he just heard.

“Twelve years?”

Brian blushed, bashful from the level of vulnerability he had reached with his bandmate.

“Twelve bloody years? Why haven’t you ever made a move?”

“I never seemed right. We were too young. Then she was with somebody. Then she moved away for five years. When would I have done anything?”

Roger was frustrated by his friend’s stupidity. “You’ve wasted a monumental about of time failing to do anything.”

Brian sighed. “I’ve never had the courage. And then I find out you’ve kissed her. Doesn’t she mean something to you, too?” He didn’t even want to think about John.

“Of course Y/N does. She means a great deal to me, but not like that. It was one moment. You’ve had a lifetime of moments.” Roger paused. “You love her, yeah?”

“Irretrievably.”

“Then do something about it.”

52 notes · View notes