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ponderingmoonlight · 6 months

Text

How JJK men react when you fall asleep on them

Pairing: Nanami x reader; Gojo x reader; Inumaki x reader (first time yay, thank you @emzalot and @trysudio for the great idea <3)

Word Count: 3,4k

Warnings: not proofread because I really have to go to work right now lol, a little language here and there, otherwise fluff overload, will write a part ll of this so if you wanna get tagged leave a comment and let me know. Also, I'd appreciate it sooooo much if you'd interact with this fic and showed some support <3

Kento Nanami

It’s been a hell of a week. Work swallows you whole, curses appear like plagues out of nowhere. This summer seems to be worse than any year before, worse than anything you’ve ever witnessed despite the stinging fact that you are a grade 1 sorcerer.

“When was the last time you’ve slept, (y/n)?” Satoru questions playfully when you walk past him.

You have no energy for his bullshit right now, feet shuffling on the floor without a real aim. Oh, but you do have an aim-

Him.

“Can’t remember anymore. Let me go home now”, you mumble, heart beating a little faster just by the thought of it.

Going home means meeting him. After weeks of being apart, after weeks of not really seeing each other, you’ll finally come back home to him. Kento Nanami, the best boyfriend walking on this earth. Kento Nanami, who was the one who forced Gojo to talk to the elders in order to give you a few days off. Kento Nanami, who is the only thing on your mind except for sleep right now.

“Come on, let me drive you home, (y/n). No need for you to walk that whole way”, Gojo suggests.

You can’t argue. In fact, you don’t even want to. Even the thought of sitting for a few minutes seems like a relieve at the moment.

“Your man was really mad when he found out you were assigned for another bunch of missions this week, threatened to slap me if I don’t talk to the elders”, the man next to you comments amused while starting the car.

Kento is a calm and collected man, never too much of anything. But when it comes to you and your safety, he seems to put on another face.

Definitely a hot one.

“I hope he slapped you anyway”, you reply with a weak grin, earning a heartfelt laugh from Gojo.

“Not yet, but let me escort you to the door just in case.”

He stops the car, your numb body refusing to get up. You just started to get comfortable, maybe you’re able to rest your eyes on the passenger seat for a second…

“Come on, you just need to walk inside. Kento already waits for you.”

“Did you drive her here?”

Oh, that sweet voice. That sweet voice you get drunk on over and over again, that voice that lures you into relieving darkness. Now you’re save. Now you’re finally able to rest.

“Hey sweetheart, are you alright?”

His comforting touch caresses your cheek gently, you can tell he’s gazing down at you worried. But as much as you want to lift you arms and finally embrace your boyfriend in a tight hug, as much as you are forcing your eyes to open and take in his striking sight, you simply can’t move.

“Let me carry you inside. You definitely need to rest now”, he mumbles.

Softly, he lifts you out of the passenger seat. You feel like melting away in an instant, the mixture of his masculine scent along with the warmth of his body being your personal heaven on earth. God, how much you love that man, how much adore that he stood up for you, that he lets you rest in his comforting arms right now.

“Thank you for helping me out”, Nanami addresses towards Gojo.

“No need for that. We’re buddies after all, right? And I don’t wanna get slapped by you. Good night, (y/n), sleep tight!”

As much as you’d love to bite back, your tongue is so numb you can’t even bring out anything apart from a minor groan.

Kento’s tall frame begins to walk, his tight muscles reflecting every little movement against your head. What a sensation it is, knowing that you’ll lay curled up next to him in bed within the next minutes.

“Missed you”, you mumble.

His touch brushes over your back comfortingly while he steps back into the warmth of your inviting home.

“I’m so glad you’re home again, sweetheart. But before you’re all mine, you have to catch up with your sleep. When was the last time you were able to rest?”

You can’t put a finger on it. Apart from a few short naps now and then, there was absolutely no chance to sleep for 3 hours straight within the last week. But telling Kento that definitely doesn’t seem like a good idea, not that you are able to build a straight sentence anyway.

“Don’t know”, you hush.

Gently, he lays you down onto your soft mattress. You curl up in an instant, taking in his scent inside the soft linen of your blanket. Oh, this feels like nothing but heaven. Especially because he positions himself next to you, pressing your back against his broad chest.

“Get your well-deserved rest. I won’t let something like that happen again”, he breathes against your ear.

“I love you, Kento. Thanks for standing up for me…”

His skilled fingers tuck a strand of hair that hangs in your face behind your ear before stroking your head just the way you like it.

“I will always look after you, (y/n). Now rest a little and tell me about the last weeks when you’re ready. I’ve already shopped for this evening, I want to cook your favourite meal for you. And-“

He stops himself from talking, your low and steady breath making it more than clear that you are already sound asleep. With a small smile, Kento tucks you into the blanket and presses a kiss against your forehead. Oh, how much you deserve to finally rest, how lovely you look with your relaxed facial features and your head completely swallowed by your pillow

“Sleep tight, I love you more than anything else, (y/n).”

Satoru Gojo

“No offense, but you look like you haven’t slept in days.”

You can’t hold in a yawn, teary eyes staring at the man in front of you. That definitely was a rough mission. So rough that Satoru Gojo had to step in to save your puny ass. And if that wasn’t embarrassing enough, you can barely keep your eyes open. That fucking demon you weren’t able to exorcise all night, fucking Satoru Gojo who took forever to come to your rescue.

“I’m fine”, you grumble, avoiding his gaze at any cost.

Why on earth does it have to be him? Why Satoru Gojo instead of someone decent like Geto? Now, you’ll have to live with his stupid comments for at least some months.

“Baby, you look like you’re about to pass out.”

“Don’t call me baby”, you hiss through gritted teeth.

Get yourself together, keep your eyes open. Why on earth are you so damn tired right now? Maybe because you were fighting the whole night, maybe because you haven’t slept enough for ages.

“Feel free to rest a little, this car ride will take us some time”, Ijichi interrupts softly, gazing at you through the mirror.

“I’m fine”, you groan.

God, why is everything so damn annoying at the moment? Your eyes wander to the man next to you who just grins from ear to ear. It’s because of him, that fucker over there.

“Don’t worry, I will take care if something happens”, he assures you.

Urgh, you are too tired to deal with his shit-talking right now. You turn pointedly towards the window, staring into the rainy late morning. What time is it? You have no idea. All that you know is that you’ve been awake for more than 48 hours by now, your body being completely worn out and covered in bruises. Maybe Shoko will give you a decent pain killer that shoots you into another dimension. Yeah, that actually sounds nice.

Satoru’s eyes lay on you, how your body gets sluggish in the car seat with every passing minute. Until your head rests against the window, until your heavy eyes get the best of you and your mouth opens. Yes, you were completely worn out by the time he arrived. And it is more than well-deserved that you rest now. But why do you have to look this lovely while doing so?

“Is she asleep?”, Ijichi questions softly.

“Oh she definitely is. No wonder after that hell of a mission. Please turn the music down a little so she doesn’t wake up.”

Even though you’re always act cold towards him, Satoru can’t help but admire you from afar. You are so feisty, so strong, so lovely it takes his breath away. It seems like the only time he’s even able to look your way properly is when you are asleep.

And he enjoys every second of it.

Ijichi makes a sharp turn to the left, eyes widen in horror when another car is only inches away from crashing into him. Before Satoru is able to react, your body crashes against his, your head now resting against his shoulder. He holds his breath, heart almost beating out of his chest. He never came this close to you, not without you complaining. From here, you look even lovelier, your steady breath brushing against his neck in a way that makes him see start.

But you don’t seem to mind. No, instead your arm wraps itself around his as you rub your head against his shoulder in order to find a comfortable position.

“Is she still sleeping? I hope this didn’t wake her up…”

“Nah, she’s asleep”, Satoru mumbles.

The urge to touch you becomes almost unbearable. How is he supposed to sit still when you are cuddled against him like this? How is he supposed to not stretch out his hand when your hair looks so inviting, when he wondered about what your skin feels like since knowing you?

A little touch can’t hurt, right? A simple, innocent touch…

Slowly, his trembling fingertip brushes over your cheek. It feels like electricity is running through his veins where his skin meets yours. You really are strikingly beautiful, even when your face is squished against his shoulder, even when your mouth hangs slightly open. And oh, the perfume you wear smells absolutely intoxicating. How is it possible he never realized how good you smell?

“Hello?”

He stares at you with his eyes wide open, movement stuck in its tracks while you blink away the sleep and gaze up at him in drunken confusion.

“Are we there yet?”

“No, we’re still on our way back”, he explains briefly.

You look around, the realization of where you are slowly but surely hitting you like a wall. Oh god, is this Satoru Gojo you’re resting your head on? And is it his hand that cups your cheeks.

“I-Im so sorry!”, you stutter, instantly lifting yourself up and stroking your hair.

Fuck, why is this so embarrassing? Even Gojo’s cheeks get light pink while he avoids your gaze, fumbling with his hands frantically.

“Nah I’m sorry. Should have pushed you back…”

You swallow hard, death silence hanging in the air. Even though you only slept for maybe 10 minutes, you feel like you haven’t had such a good nap in a long time. Was is because of him? Is it because you feel…safe?

“Your shoulder was quite comfortable”, you mutter before you can stop yourself.

“Yeah, you think so?”

“Somehow, yeah…”

Is Satoru Gojo maybe not as bad as you thought? He could have yanked your body back into the seat immediately if he wanted to. Hell, you wouldn’t have been able to even touch him if he didn’t allow it. So maybe, just maybe he doesn’t hate you as much as you thought he does.

Just like you.

“Well, you can come over here anytime y’know.”

Your eyes dart towards him in an instant, looking for a single spark of dark humour on his face. But no. All he does is awkwardly smiling and patting his shoulder like he’s inviting you over.

Is this…Alright? Should you really do it?

“Your arm seems comfier than the window, so why not…”

Hesitantly, you loosen your seatbelt and slide into the middle seat right next to him. The warmth radiating from his body seems to swallow you whole in an instant, a yarn escaping you just by the thought of continuing your nap.

“Don’t you dare to tell anybody about this”, you mumble against his shoulder, eyelids already so heavy that you fail to keep them open.

“I will use this against you whenever I have the chance to.”

“Sato…”

Toge Inumaki

It’s hard to keep your eyes open when the old fart in front of you talks about his boring and made up adventures for over 2 hours by now. Not even the stinging fact that your crush is sitting next to you can keep you from holding your head in your hands, eyes slowly but surely closing.

Unexpectedly you feel a hand tapping against your forearm, ripping you out of your daydreams. Toge’s smile catches you off guard, sweeps you off the ground and almost off your chair. How embarrassing, did you really almost fall asleep while sitting next to him? Today was the first time you’ve had enough courage to ask him if he wants to sit next to you. How are you even able to be tired when he’s so close you can literally feel the heat radiating from his body?

With a firm smile, he slides a little note your way.

“Hey, don’t fall asleep”

You swallow, cheeks heating up in an instant. So he noticed? Oh no, earth should swallow you whole and get you out of this mess as soon as possible. Even though you can tell by his gorgeous eyes that he’s grinning, you can’t help but feel deeply ashamed.

“Thank you”, you mutter through gritted teeth, eyes darting towards the old fart in front.

Why didn’t you go to sleep early tonight, why did you read through all of those chapters when you knew that you’ll have a lecture early in the morning? That slow burn just really got you. Oh, but the main character reminds you so much of him. Him, the boy who doesn’t speak in anything but sushi ingredients in order to save all of you from getting cursed. Him, whose smile could enchant entire nations. Him, who stole your heart since you’ve joined Jujutsu High along his side back then.

But why do you have to make it so complicated, why do you have to act so damn strange around him? Toge must think you’re a total freak, always admiring him from afar while never really talking much with him. Even though he agreed on sitting next to you today, he might have done it because he feels sorry for you.

Your head sinks deeper and deeper, eyes closing themselves before you are able to stop them. When you get home, you’ll definitely finish that enemies to lovers story you’ve read all night. Maybe you’ll be able to be proud of youself for asking him out when you’re back in your room. And just maybe, you’ll be able to ask him out on a date sometime. Maybe stargazing? Or watching a movie together. Just the thought of cuddling with him…

Toge’s eyes dart towards you. Considering your slow breaths and how your head rests in your arms, you definitely fell asleep. Gently, he shakes your shoulder and back, taps your arm and slides a note your way.

“Tuna tuna”, he mumbles inaudibly.

But nothing works. No, your body doesn’t move an inch except for your head that searches a comfortable position. Slowly but surely, your head threatens to wander off the desk, sending you straight towards the floor.

His eyes dart around frantically. What is he supposed to do now? He can’t let the old man notice you fell asleep and risk that you’ll hurt your head. But on the other hand…

Touching you is something he imagined quite often. Since he first laid his eyes on you, it was over. Searching for you in every crowd, sitting next to you as often as possible, protecting you at any cost. Yes, Toge Inumaki fell head over heels for you.

But somehow it seems like you aren’t that interested in him, avoiding his gaze as good as possible, always mumbling short answers only. It surprised him when you came up to him today and asked him to sit next to you, his heart still beating out of his chest just by your presence. Would you be mad, disgusted even if he grabbed you, even if only to save you from falling to the ground?

He clenches his hands into fists, watching in horror as you begin to slide down your chair. What is he supposed to do?

In the matter of seconds, his hands grab your uniform just before you’re about to fall to the floor, catching you just in time and pulling your head onto his lap.

Onto his lap.

You are laying in his lap.

Oh god, this feels so right. No, he has to focus, what will you think of him when you wake up like that? And what will the others do when they catch both of you in this strange-looking position? His face goes pale in an instant, hands desperately holding onto your back so you don’t slide down. This is bad, very very bad. But on the other hand…

No, he can’t enjoy the fact that you’re laying in his lap right now, he can’t allow to let himself fall like that. You are asleep, it would be disgusting to use you like that. Especially when you clearly don’t like him the way he likes you.

He has no other chance but to wake you up.

“Sake”, he mutters along with gently tapping your shoulder.

“Sake.”

You don’t react. Instead, you cuddle yourself into his lap, arm now resting across his legs. He closes his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath in and out.

“Sake!”, he hisses into your ear as loud as possible with somebody else noticing.

You jerk up, eyes darting around in confusion. What just happened? You must’ve fallen asleep. Urgh, that old fart is still talking…

“Tuna tuna?”

You blink at the boy next to you with doe eyes. He looks absolutely messed up, glossy orbs staring at you in pure horror. Oh no, did you do something embarrassing? Did you snore next to him? Or worse, did you drool?

Frantically, you wipe over your face. This is a nightmare and you’re still absolutely drained.

“I-I’m sorry”, you stutter.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I’m just a idiot and went to bed way too late last night”, you blubber out.

Gently, Toge grabs the arm that is about to wipe over your face again mid-air and slides another note your way.

“You look cute when you sleep. Would you like to have a movie night when you’re fit again?”

You stare at the neatly written note with widen eyes. This can’t be real, right? Your crush didn’t just ask you out after you passed out on the desk during lecture. It’s like your tongue is stuck in your throat, mouth not able to move. This is way too good to be true, something you’ve dreamt about each and every night. Toge, having a movie night with you?

He stares at you nervously, how you blink over and over again in sheer disbelief. Oh no, was this a mistake, do you think he is a freak for asking you out on a movie night just after you fell asleep? What if you know that you laid in his lap, that he touched you without permission? This was a stupid idea, you made it clear multiple times that you aren’t interested in him like that-

“I…I’d love to”, you suddenly mutter so silently that Toge almost misses it.

“Salmon?”

“Yeah…I mean, if you’re still up for a meeting…”

“You two, will you shut up already? I’ll remove you from this class if you keep on talking!” the old man suddenly screams so loud that you flinch, sitting straight in your chair in an instant while your eyes dart towards him.

Toge shoves another note your way.

“I’m really excited about meeting you.”

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feysandfeels · 1 year

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thank u! The situation is this, roughly. I'm in my mid 20s and I live in city A, where I'm very comfortable. I have all my friends here, old firndships of 10+ years and new ones. Since I'm not close to my family, they're extremely important to me. In the past two years I've maybe spent 15 days without meeting anyone, being able to socialise and lean on my friends is super important to me. I love my city, I'm comfortable here and I know I wanna spend my life here. However, I cant get my masters degree here, I'd have to do an expensive online degree and I've really been considering moving somewhere else for my masters for a while now, to use that opportunity and get to know a new place before returning here for good. I dont really wanna do an online degree, spending 6 hours a day in my room with no way to socialise and meet new friends. Ive been dating someone since november 22, we just broke up a couple days ago. I think ive sent u asks about him before lol. He lives in city B, 600 km away from me and ultimately the distance was the break up reason, although admittedly there have been other struggles as well. He said if I were to move there, he'd love to date me again for real this time. City B is far away, but it would actually offer me a good (and free) degree, its a vibrant metropolis and I could honestly do worse. The thing is, I'm scared of moving there only to end up depressed and homesick and on top of that back in a rocky relationship. I love and miss him a lot but there is no guarantee this would work out, even without the distance.

Got any advice? Both options have their pros and cons I guess

Hello My Love,

I'm sorry for the late reply but it was my grandma's birthday and a woman is nothing if not extra and we literally had celebrations for her the whole week. But she deserves it. Fabulous lady, truly.

Anywho, I have been thinking about this a lot and I - do you have a cunty friend? Can I be your cunty friend? Like I will give you hugs and bake you cookies, but can I be the cunty friend?

Because here is what I think: do not include that man or your relationship with him in your decision making process. Even though, I think distance is a valid reason when talking about North America -and America in general as traveling within the continent is not as cheap or easy as it is in other places... I am looking at you "long distance relationships within England"- the fact that you were also having other issues makes me believe that maybe maybe this is not where you should be putting your energy. If you give him a deciding factor weight type of thing then there might be chance you end up in a program that is good but not "the one", in a relationship that shows you that the problems that were not distance related are still there and well with a cup half empty. Personally, and feel free to disagree and be more of a romantic here... but personally I feel that if you guys have only been together a couple of months he should not hold such privilege weight in your life as to be a deciding factor to where you do your MA, that is something that comes with time and dedication.

Even if you do think it is worth a shot please please have a good think about whether it comes from a sense of comfort and of "hey at least I would have someone there" or the comfort of having previously been together. If this dude was not in an emotional position to put the effort to be in a long distance relationship with you then I think you deserve someone who will put that effort and even encourage you to fully look at all the available brilliant MA options you have. There's nothing wrong with him not wanting to do that and peace be with him and all that, but you deserve someone who will be there even when an ocean stands between you two.

Choose your MA because it feels your heart with joy to study whatever it is on, because you love the classes, because the campus seems nice and they have cool clubs and a nice community, because there are cute cafes and the nice restaurants, because the bookstores are amazing, because the scenery is inspiring, because you want to learn... and then jump.

Now for the MA experience and the fear of leaving home. I will not lie to you babygirl, it is daunting and settling in will take a while. This being said it will be an adventure! A great one at that. I feel these experiences allow you to truly get to know you for who you are when your familiar context is stripped away, you learn to spend time with you, to date you, to enjoy your own company; simultaneously it forces you to grow past the beautiful fence that limits your comfort space, to face the horizon and see all that land with boundless opportunity for you to build something from it and cherish it.

I know there's a fear of what if I don't meet new friends? what if my teachers suck? what if there is no cute cafes? what if I feel alone? But during those years you learn to communicate with your loneliness and find company within it; you learn that a smile is universal and most likely people will also be looking to make friendly connections; you learn things that you like about yourself that can help you grow into a new version; your teachers will most likely be lovely; you learn to love and be with people at a distance (you have an online community that literally travels with you, and your friends from home will adapt to you being away and you will not feel alone). Don't let fear of the unknown stop you, because even within the borders of your hometown the unknown will find you.

There's something my MA teacher used to say to me that I have loved ever since: be brave and head into the unknown, you never know which constellations you will find in a new sky.

Hope it helped..

sending you lots of love and light.

Ps: if you end up choosing the MA in the city he is in, make sure you are choosing it because of the program and the city... make sure you would choose it even if that dude did not live there.

Ahora sí, besos mi reina (gn)

#FeysandfeelsAsks

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boxofbadaddiction · 4 years

Text

All I Wanna Do is Make Love to You

Song Inspired

Fred Weasley x Reader

George Weasley x Reader (Platonic)

Warnings: Sexual References. Swearing. War. Angst with a happy ending.

War was fast approaching. People were running scared, others disappearing at random. Everyone was on edge and looking for something, anything, to bring comfort. Something to distract themselves, even if only for a moment, from the horror of their reality.

For [Y/N] and Fred, that comfort was found in one another.

The night before the battle saw members of the Order organising, coming together to discuss possible strategies in the fight to come. Following a particularly gut wrenching speech from Lupin about "preparing for the inevitable", which everyone knew from the look of his eyes he meant the unavoidable deaths that will occur, the room fell silent.

Fred and [Y/N] turned their attention to one another as if in slow motion. Frightened and teary-eyed expressions mirrored by the other. It was the first time she had ever seen him so vulnerable. As members began to disperse Fred reached his hand out for her to take. Not a word was spoken as the two ascended the staircase of the home currently being used as Headquarters for the Order, finding refuge in a room Fred had occupied for the past three nights.

Releasing her grip on his hand [Y/N] entered the dimly lit space first as Fred closed the door gently behind him, leaning his weight back against it. He watched her as she turned back to meet his gaze.

[Y/N]s chest began to rise and fall as panicked breaths took over, shoulders shuddering as tears pooled in the corner of her eyes. Appearing as the embodiment of sorrow itself. Freds head fell to the side sadly as a defeated breath escaped his throat. Heart aching at the sight.

In an instant the two were closing the space between them, lips crashing in a frantic kiss. His hands came to the nape of her neck and hers bunched in the fabric of his shirts collar.

Tongues entwining hungrily as their hands began to roam the others body, discarding various articles of clothing in their wake.

Slowly stepping backwards [Y/N] began blindly leading them towards the bed, stopping momentarily to kick away their pants that'd slung around their ankles.

Fred seized the moment to take control, lifting [Y/N] with a firm grip to her ass from the ground. Her legs immediately wrapping around his waist and arms wrapping around his neck. Fred collapsed the pair onto the bed hovering mere millimetres above her as they proceeded to rid the other of their final items of clothing.

Freds mouth traced her entire body as if mapping her every detail with his lips.

Their bodies entwined and writhed together in perfect sync. Soft moans, gasping breaths and declarations of love filled the thick air. They cherished every movement, every taste and sound shared by the other as if they had an eternity to do so. Though it very well felt like nothing more than borrowed time.

That night suddenly seemed like a lifetime ago as [Y/N] stood pale and cold before the gathered Weasley family who mourned the loss of their son, brother and best friend. Whilst she denied the fate of her lover laid before her.

Soft gasps and declarations of her lost love were the only sounds to peirce the thick polluted air as she crumpled in front of his body. Tears pouring from her eyes at the sight.

The moment replayed in her mind every second of her days. His lifeless form plaguing more than just her dreams. It plagued her entire existence. It was too much to bare. Not knowing where to turn next [Y/N] responded in the only way she could think to.

She ran.

There was nothing left for her there. Nothing but heartache and pain and the tormenting memory of what had once been. She left for her home country, with no intention of ever returning.

But fate had other ideas.

11 years later found [Y/N] wandering the streets of Diagon Alley. It was just as it always had been, before the war. Shops bustling with the life of families searching for their various books and essentials for the beginning of a new school year. She were delighted to see so many of the original stores that were destroyed during the second war restored to their former grandeur. As she strolled through the crowed street gazing through the display windows, she was brought back to her old days. Back to all those school years when she'd come to collect her books and supplies. Mind running with itself through the many memories of her youth blissfully unaware of the busy bodies of people around.

Until...

"[Y/N]?!" a tall redheaded man barrelled through the street towards her.

"George?!" She found herself suddenly wrapped tight within his arms, it felt just like it always had. It felt warm and safe. Like being home. [Y/N] hadn't seen him since the war. She hadn't seen anyone. Right now she were struggling to see reason why, well more how, she'd stayed away. God, had she always missed him this badly?

"What are you doing here?" [Y/N] asked, finally breaking the hug though somewhat reluctantly.

"Well, the shop's back up and running so I'm living down the street again. It's my day off though so I'm out scoping for new ideas." He said smiling. "But what about you? I haven't seen you in years now suddenly you're here, what gives [Y/L/N]?" He playfully pushed her shoulder.

"I'm shopping. No better place to after all" the girl winked.

Laughing he kept looking at her like she'd come back from the dead. Though given the way she had disappeared after the Battle I guess to him it was like she had.

"Merlin, there's so many questions on my mind right now. Just...oh God, how have you been? Where Have you been!?" His eyes were searching her face. For what, she didn't know.

"Oh ah...well I mean, I've been okay. I moved back home after...everything." her expression was solem at the memory of the war. His, sympathetic and understanding.

"Ya know" he took a step closer to his old friend "last I checked that 'home' you always talked about was in a different bloody country! So you obviously aren't here just 'shopping'." She was unable to control the blush which spread across her features, brought on by the mischief he had painted over his face, trying to goad the truth from her. She bit her lip trying to hold back a smile. Damn that Weasley charm!

"So, come on, don't keep me hanging here. What have you been up to?"

"Well actually I ah..."

"MUM!"

Both turned in the direction of the call from a young boy, one with incredible [Y/E/C] eyes and firey red hair.

"MUM! did you see they have the new Windbreak on display in Quality Quidditch Supplies!?"

"No, I didn't sweety" she could feel Georges eyes on the both of them but was too scared to face him. Knowing the question that was going to be on his face when she did.

"Can I go to the Magical Menagerie now to pick my Owl?"

"Of course. I'll meet you there shortly, be safe."

The boy hurried off through the busy crowd once more. Disappearing from sight.

[Y/N] turned slowly back to see George staring after her son. Mouth agape, twitching slightly as he tries to find the words to say something. Anything. It can't be? He looked so much like...surely that's not...

"George?" She asked tentatively reaching slowly to touch his arm.

He shook his head trying to break free of his trance.

"So you're ah...you're a mother. Wow that's...how old is he?" He turned his gaze to hers.

Heart beating fast in her chest a tightness formed in her throat.

Offering a weak smile as her eyes start to turn red she replied, "He'll be 11 in a few short months. He just received his Hogwarts letter."

"Wow that's..." the pieces were falling into place behind his eyes as he looks back to where the young boy had ran off. "11?" He turns back to the mother, disbelief and a little anger evident all through his expression.

"George..." she took a step toward him but he moved away from the touch.

"[Y/N], tell me he's not..."

Tears were filling her eyes now as she noticed his had begun to turn just as red. Fighting back tears. He knows the answer, aside from the eyes, he was the spitting image of his father. Of himself. But he still needs to ask.

"He is, George." Tears finally spilling over and rolling down her cheek she watched him, chest aching at the confession.

"11 years and you never thought to tell us? You never thought I'd...that'd we'd...for Merlin's sake, [Y/N]! He's.." over come with emotion George's breathing had become rapid. He's angry and panicking he keeps looking between her and where the boy ran to. He's crying, running his hands frantically through his hair as he desperately tries to make some sense of this situation. 11 years. For 11 years he's had a nephew. For 11 years she hid the truth from his family. For 11 years she hid the last remaining part of Fred from them. From him. How can he begin to process this?

"George, please, I'm so sorry I didn't...I couldn't..." she were clinging to any excuse that rushed through her head. Fighting for a reason good enough to justify the decision not to tell anyone, but she couldn't. She knew she was wrong, and now could see just how badly, it was all over George. In his tears and the whites of his knuckles and the emotion fighting on his breath. She'd never even been able to convince herself after more than a decade of arguing between heart and mind. So how could she possibly convince him now?

"I'm sorry, I panicked! I thought it was the right thing at the time!" Not a lie, but definitely not a good enough defence.

"The war was over, Fred was gone and I found out I was pregnant only a week later. What was I supposed to do!?"

"You were supposed to trust us!" George was nothing but angry now. He was looking at her with such rage in his eyes it terrified her. He began shouting as he approached. [Y/N] was shaking and walking backwards.

"You were supposed to know that we're family! We always had been, even before you had his baby. We would have helped you. Cared for you. Cared for him! I mean for Gods sake [Y/N] he's the only piece of Fred left on this fucking planet and you hid him from us!"

"George please, I'm so sorry just...just please stop yelling." Her hands were out in defence as she gazed over to the group of passers by whom had stopped to view the scene currently unfolding before them. People were watching, silently asking if she needed help. He looked around, realising he needed to calm himself. She grabbed his hand as he looked away, trying to control his breathing. She'd never seen George so upset. He was usually the most understanding and level-headed of the pair. This side of him scared her, and she hated herself for bringing it out from him.

"Hey..." she spoke, barely in a whisper, reaching to stroke the arm of his hand which she were holding.

"What's his name" George interrupted, still not daring to look to her.

She smiled softly.

"His name's Marcos. From-"

"Your uncle." George nodded. "The one who raised you. I remember him." A strain was evident in his voice as he tried to move the conversation forward without losing his temper.

"He has a middle name." [Y/N] blurted out. "He ah...he has a middle name."

He finally looked down at her. His mouth clamped so tight it was a thin line. "Mmhmm. Yeah, alright. What is it?"

"It's George." She smiled at him. "It was Fred's idea. He used to joke about us getting married and growing old. Whenever he spoke about children there was one name that always came back to him. He said he wanted to name one after you..." he was crying again, head bowed while silent sad laughter shook through his shoulders. She moved to stand infront of him. One hand gently stroking the side of his cheek as his hands traced circles on her arms. "He said it'd drive your Mum mad, having two of you around the house, and thought that was exactly the way it should be." He laughed and they embraced each other, Georges head resting against the crook of her neck.

"I'm so sorry George. I should never have kept any of this from you. From your family."

"Our family" he corrected. "You're apart of us too. Just like he is." He finished standing straight once again but never letting go completely.

"I promise I'll tell everyone. I'll do it tomorrow. I should never have kept him from you. Nor you from him. I was stupid to think I was alone in this. I know you're all what's best for him. And I'm going to mend my mistake. I don't expect anyone to greet me with open arms. And I know this will take time to win you all back, but it's the right thing to do."

George was looking with nothing but cherish in his eyes. He was devastated yes, to say the least. But he had to look past that now. He had his best friend back, and what's more, he has a nephew! He is an Uncle! And he had 11 years worth of pranks and mischief to make up for, he wasn't about to waste a second.

"Can I meet him" he asked, trying not to sound as eager as he was feeling.

"Of course."

"The menagerie wasn't it? He was going to?" He said as they began walking.

"Oh, yes but there's not a chance in the world that's where he's gone." She smiled knowingly. George furrowed his brows at the comment. [Y/N] led him on through the crowds in Diagon Alley. Past the Broom store, past Olivanders, past the Magical Menagerie. All the way down to the bright and lively store of number 93, Weasley Wizard Wheezes. George began to laugh.

"You're not serious?"

"It's safe to say he has inherited his Father, and Uncles talent for mischief." She winked opening the door.

The store was crowded, but she knew him better than anyone and knew exactly where he'd be.

"Your store is his favourite you know?"

George smiled trying to see over the crowd of people within the store to catch a glimpse of him.

"His favourite section..." she pointed over her shoulder with a grin. "...fireworks." grasping his hand and pulling George along behind her.

True to form, that's exactly where he was. Startled by his Mothers sudden appearance, and the stern smiling expression on her face the boy hid two boxes, of what no doubt were the biggest and most uncontanable fireworks the Twins had created, behind his back feigning innocence.

"Oh! Mum! I ahhhh...I'm glad you found me, you see I couldn't seem to find the menagerie and I got a bit lost amongst all the people so I ahhh...i just sort of ducked in here to ummm"

"Save it, Marcos." She raised her hand and chuckled. George was beaming, he was just like Fred, although hadn't quiet perfected his lying ability yet. At the moment it was about as strong as his mothers...aka patheticly weak.

[Y/N] crouched down in front of him and Marcos let his hands fall by his sides as he bowed his head in defeat "I'm done for aren't I?"

"Not this time", Marcos head rocketed up to stare awestruck into her eyes. Surely he hadn't heard that properly?

"Marc, I'd like to introduce you to someone...the man I was talking to earlier."

The boy looked up behind his mother and his eye's widened. "You're the owner of the store! I hadn't realised before not with...you know, you not being near that giant bust of yours out front..." George laughed. "But Mum...how ever do you know him!?" He was near shaking with excitement as he stared back at his mother.

"Well sweety, there's-" she was interrupted as a small group of people entered the firework section.

"Perhaps you'd like to do this upstairs [Y/N], away from interruptions that is" George whispered in her ear. "We can use the flat" he said standing back against the wall he'd leaned on when they'd entered.

"Yes that would be best I think. Come on Marc, just follow George alright." Marcos was becoming increasingly worrisome. This whole scene screamed seriousness. Something he didn't care for at all, he much preferred to stay joking and happy. Another trait he'd unknowingly inherited from his Father.

They climbed the winding stairs of the Twins store into the flat where George shut the door behind them.

"Make yourself comfortable" he ushered towards the couch. "Anything to drink?" "No thank you, George" "how bout for you little man?" "Can I have a fire whiskey?" George laughed as [Y/N] looked sternly at her son. "Nevermind. I'm all good." He slouched down into the couch cushions.

Resuming her position from earlier the Mother kneeled before her son, and grasped his hands in hers whilst George stood awkwardly with his hands in his pockets behind them. Head hung slightly.

"As I was saying, there's something I've needed to tell you. Something I should never have kept from you in the first place and it's time you knew." She took a deep breath. "George here well...we went to school together. We were very close."

"Well, what happened?" Marcos asked confusedly. "You hardly ever mention your school days." "I know. And you see...you remember the story I told you when you asked about your Father, Marc?" George became suddenly more alert, he hadn't thought about what she had told him during all of this...he sat on a neighbouring armchair, listening intently.

"You told me he died in the War, as a hero. Saving people." George felt his eyes sting with fresh tears but fought to control himself.

"That's right, honey, and it's true. Your Daddy died a very brave, strong, man. He helped save so many people."

"So what's this got to do with me meeting George?" He asked.

"Well...George here was your Daddy's brother. His twin."

"Really!?" Marcos asked excitedly. "I have an uncle?" He smiled at George.

"Well, more than one." George smirked with a raised brow.

"There's more?" Marcos was on the edge of his seat now "how many more?"

"At least 5." "Woah!" "You also have 3 aunts" George added. "Why haven't I met them? Can we go now!?" Marcos stood enthusiastically looking between the two adults. He was truly a fearless young man. That which his Mother adored.

"Uh no, not right now Marc but I'm hoping" she glanced at George, "sometime this week." "Definitely." He smiled. "So you're what my dad looked like? Mum doesn't have any photos, they were all burned in a house fire." "Well, pretty much, minus an ear of course." He said pointing to his wound.

"Wicked!" He smiled "how'd it happen!?" Marcos was cross legged on Georges coffee table sitting eagerly infront of his newly discovered Uncle. "Marc, that's rude, you can't just ask -" "it's okay, [Y/N]. Really. And I'll be happy to tell you. Everything." George was leaning in nearly as excited as his nephew. "Can you tell me all about Dad?" He asked with a cautious expression. "Like I'd leave him out" he scowled jokingly. [Y/N] had tears in her eyes. Seeing them so happy she couldn't believe that after the War she ran. How could one keep George from him?

Distracted by her own thoughts she hadn't realised her son was patiently waiting an answer to a question he'd asked. "Sorry?" "I said, can I stay with Uncle George tonight?" "Oh..." she looked at George who had the same pleading expression on his face as her son. "Only if it's okay with-" "of course it is!" George stood with a clap of his hands. Marcos was beaming once more at his uncle. "Well then I guess it's okay." The boys high fived excitedly and began to celebrate "BUT!" "here it comes" Marcos rolled his eyes and dropped his head. George looked between the pair slightly confused but ultimately he could guess what was coming.

"I want you on your BEST! behaviour. No mischief!" She scolded "I promise" Marcos pleaded. "See he promises" George wrapped an arm around Marc's shoulders as they both smiled. "The both of you!" She added "...oh." Georges mouth formed a thin line as he looked at [Y/N]. There goes 80% of his plans for the night. Although what she doesn't know wont really hurt her he thought with a smile.

After a while more talking, exchanging stories with George from school and hearing him talk about his newest inventions, as well as answering all questions Marcos had, [Y/N] had decided it was time to let the boys have their night together. Saying goodbye at the door she began yet another warning, having knew these boys too well. "And I mean it you two! Absolutely no! Mischief!" George put a hand on his heart and the other rested on Marcos back. "I solemnly swear" he winked.

Laughing she gave the boys a final hug and began desending the stores stairs when her ears were met with the sound of her sons celebratory cheers and the slap of a high five. Smiling she kept walking till met with the emptiness of Diagon Alley where only few people remained as stores were closing. Casting a loving look to the top window of number 93 she smiled. Everything was going to be okay. She stood contemplating for a moment when the unmistakable flash of fireworks issued from the window and her expression deadpanned. Hadn't been gone 5 minutes. She rolled her eyes. "It's harmless fun" she told herself, going to turn and continue on her way home when the sudden sound of glass breaking and sparks flying pulled her attention back to the top floor window which was now shattered as a firework whizzed down the dark street.

"Awesome!" Came her sons voice in celebration. "MARCOS! GEORGE!" She bellowed. Their heads poked immediately out from the window. [Y/N] threw her arms out wide, brows raised, silently asking the question...

The boys responded in sync "sorrrry Muuumm" "Sorrrry [Y/N/N]" rolling her eyes as she walked off, the firework still in view she laughed to herself.

"We're doomed."

Part II>>

#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley smut #fred weasley #George weasley x reader #george weasley/reader #george weasley x reader #george weasley #hp imagine #harry potter x reader

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knockknockchicagopd · 3 years

Text

❛ I'M NOT BULLETPROOF ❜

❚❙ REQUEST BY ANON: Hello, here’s the request all sort out ... could I get a Antonio imagine where the reader is related to someone on the unit? With the prompts (fluff 3/ 7) and also could you make it smut? Thank you once more!

❚❙ PROMPTS: “I just wanted to hear your voice”. / “We can pretend that nothing happened last night, but it did”.

❚❙ ANTONIO DAWSON MASTERLIST.

❚❙ WORDS: about 2k.

❚❙ WARNINGS: nsfw, unprotected vaginal sex, mention of bodily fluids.

❚❙ A/N: this writing hasn’t been edited, you may find some grammar mistakes, I’m sorry about that. If you find a description about body or a word out of place, or something that it makes you feel uncomfortable / unrepresented, let me know by a private message and I will change it delighted.

❚❙ GIF credits: to my amazing @sonsofeorl.

❚❙ Tag list: @melblacc @rebelwrites @skyofficialxx @sesamepancakes @scarletsoldierrr @mondefantastique @that-chick212 @enbyamaro @inlovewith3 @ocetevasgirl @anotherfan07 @destynelseclipsa @jadakiss13. If you want to be added to my tag list, send me a message.

“Hey…”

“Antonio?”

Sitting up on your bed tossing away the sheets, you turn on the small lamp somewhat worried. It's too late and his gloomy tone of voice worries you. For Jay, you know it hasn't been a good week in the way of the delicate case they have had in his hands. A guy who used to rape and murder officers, just because he thought they didn't deserve to live. In the academy, the instructors teach you to catch the bad people but not to deal mentally with what they do. Every cop has their own way to confront him. Your brother, for example, likes to play videogames to escape from the world.

“You okay?” Whispering, you curl up your legs to your chest, resting your cheek on them.

“Yeah, just wanted to hear your voice”.

You can't help but draw a shy smile on your lips, feeling your face slightly burning. You can't lie and say that he hasn't attracted you since Jay introduced you. He has always been kind and tender, and more funny than your middle-brother had told you.

Last night you went to dinner after work and he drove you to your house. And no, you weren't expecting him to kiss you, just as he wasn't expecting you to correspond it with something else than a physical attraction. You can assure that you're in love with him, but you know you are falling for him a little more every time Antonio looks at you and smiles for no reason.

“Whe—Where are you?”

“Close to the beach. Walking. Clearing my head”.

Puckering your lips, placing your eyes over the large window in front of your bed, you try to not succumb to a new necessity you didn't know you had.

“Wanna come over…?”

“I'd like it”. The murmur appears after some seconds of silence, racing your heart for an instant.

“'Key, see you now”. Biting your bottom lip to contain a smile, you hang up the call.

You decide to get up from bed, being aware that if you stay there you'll end up falling asleep again. The beach isn't too far from your house, knowing the way to perfection. It's your favorite place to have something for dinner after a long shift in the cafeteria you work in. Taking the advantage to bring some order in your flat, you lose track of time till the knocks on the main door claims your attention.

Accommodating your hair, you lead your bare feet to the entrance not being able to hide the soft smile that curves up the corners of your lips, when you receive him. Antonio looks tired to death, not wasting time to hug you under the door frame. Surrounding his neck with both arms you take a step to hold him closer, being overwhelmed by all the sensations he is transmitting to you in such a simple gesture.

The hug lasts longer than you could think, not being bothered by that, enjoying every second of his warmth wrapping you. Hearing him sigh with his forehead resting over your shoulder, you push some distance between both to let him come inside and close the door after his steps.

“Wanna drink something? I have beer, coke, whisky… Water?”

“No, I'm good”. He just replies, taking off his jacket to hang it on a chair. “Listen… we can pretend that nothing happened last night. But it did. I don't wanna put pressure on you and I know who your brothers are, but… I really like you. I've been thinking about you, about us, the whole day. In my job you know when you start to work, but you don't know if you'll come home and I don't want to lose the opportunity of being with you, of leaving this world knowing… that I've made you happy”.

These words, the desperation in his voice as he is finishing them, leaves you speechless. Your brain is trying to process what Antonio has just said, keeping his trembling hands inside the pocket of his jeans. The first thing you can think about is that you don't care about Jay, nor Will. They only want for you a man who treats you like you deserve. The best of the best. And the man in front of you is it.

“I can leave, if you wan'me to”.

“Wh— no, no, no”. You fastly reply, taking the steps enough to shorten the distance between the two of you, aware that you've spent too many seconds without saying anything, making him doubt that you don't feel exactly like he does. “I… Antonio, I…”

As soon as you understand that you're not able to form a sentence with sense, you simply place your hands on both sides of his neck while standing on your tiptoes, to crash your lips on his. It doesn't take him by surprise, being what he was waiting for more than for a talk. Bending down slightly, he lifts you up to urge you to surround his waist with your legs. The necessity of feeling each other closer and closer is suffocating you, leaving you breathless because of the passion concentrated in the kiss.

Antonio brings you to your room fastly than you can assimilate, falling on the bed when his knees collide with the mattress. The kiss breaks because of the laughs with a sensation of joyful filling up your chests. Helping him with his t-shirt to throw it somewhere on the floor, you roll up over his body before attacking his lips again. Biting, sucking and tasting them. Deepening with his tongue invading your mouth to play with yours. His hands paw your body almost desperate to memorize every inch of your anatomy, landing them on your ass when he feels the friction against the rock under his jeans, as soon as you swing your hips.

Antonio tosses off his shoes, heel against heel, sliding his fingers over your body to grab the gems of your t-shirt and take it off to discover your soft and sweet skin. Normally, both you and him, would enjoy some foreplay; but not this time. Not after long months of containing the desire to be together in every way. He needs to be inside you. You need him to be inside of you. And while his lips devour your breasts helping himself with a hand, stealing your honeyed moans, the other undoes his belt and the zip of his jeans. Three simply pulls down and his hardness breaks free to his abdomen.

You can't help but lick your lips strongly, urging you to lie on your back to watch him roll down the black thong left on you by your thighs. The fire burning within his eyes gives you chills, not being able to break eye-contact. Settling himself between your legs, spreading them for his delight, his right hands goes straight to his dick; jerking himself off to prepare for you.

“Look at me…” He almost begs with a broken thread of voice, as his glans rubs your center slowly, playing with your mind. “We're on time to stop”.

“I don't want you to”. Your lips brushes his, wrapping his neck with both arms.

You couldn't regret it. You couldn't regret letting him walk into your life. For letting him love you with so much kind and tenderness. Antonio is everything you could have dreamt with all your life, and you're not going to let him go. He just nods in silence with his eyes fixed on yours, digging himself inch by inch inside you. The warmth and the wetness within your cunt make him grunt and shake slightly, feeling by his part how his length forces your wall a little creating a delicious sensation.

“Fuck…” You sigh nailing your fingertips on the back of his neck when he reaches your limits.

Buried deep inside you, one of your legs surrounds his waist trying to push him closer.

“You feel so good, amor”. He babbles pecking your lips with sloppy kisses, placing his right hand on your thigh, as the other wraps your middle back. “You wan'me to move?”

“Please, Antonio”.

He feels proud of hearing you imploring, moving his hips back enough to go forth again, starting a slow dance that curls your tiptoes and causes your eyelids to close. It feels like your bodies are made exactly for the other, fitting to perfection. Soon, your whimpers fill up your room, creating a pleased and delighted echo that it's like a celestial song for the man satisfying you as his only worry tonight. He has the imperious necessity of demonstrating you every single thing he has carried inside his heart since Jay introduced you.

Thrust after thrust, moan after moan, the atmosphere around you is full of heat and devotion for each other. Antonio nails his teeth in your neck without warning you, feeling the tip of his tongue pressing down your skin with soft caresses, being aware that tomorrow you will have a new tattoo. From your lips escape some giggles mixed with surprised gasps, being the match that lights the wildfire inside you.

With a quick move, not knowing where the strength has come from, you sit over him making him laugh. Putting your hands on his bare chest, Antonio travels his to your hips while resting his head on the pillow. If he wasn't in love before, now he really is, watching you taking control. He hasn't ever seen a most beautiful view; you, rocking your body over his, dragging your nails on his skin to bristle it wherever they venture, your breasts almost bouncing with every move (...). If his body were a temple, you would be his goddess without a single damn doubt.

And you can't help but speed up the pace, synchronizing your pleased vocals in a perfect melody all around; increasing them as the knot in your lower belly becomes more suffocating, running your lungs out of air. One of Antonio's hands is placed in your middle back, pushing you down to catch your lips with his. He has declared himself an addict since the very first moment he touched them.

The pearls of sweat decorate your foreheads, as the moans are constant and you can't delay it anymore. The orgasm explodes inside you like fireworks screaming out his name, not caring about the fact that your neighbors can hear you, feeling his hot seed filling you up with a last push to your g-spot. An indescribable sensation that has you two breathless.

You can't help but utter a grunt of disappointment when he pulls himself out of you, falling by a side of your bed trying to catch back your air. Looking at Antonio, the two of you giggle inevitably being conscious of what just happened. But it feels good. It feels so good. Stretching his arms towards you to embrace you against his body, he leans a little to press his lips on yours with so much tenderness, leaving a sigh on them. Resting your heads on the pillow, you place a hand on his cheek to caress it gently with your thumb, watching him close his eyes to only focus on your touch.

“The first time I saw you… I knew your smile would give me some trouble”. You mumble, feeling his grip become a little tightly.

“Did it, uh?”

“Not the kind I thought”.

Antonio chuckles licking his bottom lip, shrugging funnily.

“I'm not gonna say I'm sorry, baby”.

#lemme know what you think in a comment! ⚡#antonio dawson #antonio dawson x reader #antonio dawson imagine #chicago pd #chicago pd imagine #chicago pd x reader

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xxkellsvixen19xx · 3 years

Text

Autumn Leaves Fall While Love Is Fading Andy Biersack X Reader

Word Count: 1,662

Warning: ANGST

Lyrics: Seasons Of Wither By Aerosmith (Except Changed Her To Him

An inextricable sadness can be experienced when love fades. You're left questioning what is left when the one you promised to love forever no longer loves you. I experienced this. I understand this. I know what it feels like to have my heart ripped out, leaving a gaping hole which can never be filled. I know the pain that comes with wondering. What did I do wrong? What didn't I do right? Is there any way I could have prevented this from happening?

The feeling of loss which stuck me whenever I thought about him.

Andy's words still lingered in my mind; Love fades, mine has…

They stung. After everything we'd been through together this is how it was ending. I'd glimpsed that light at the end of the tunnel; the one telling me that I had what I'd dreamed of in my grasp… but now it has slipped away… it's just completely gone. Andy no longer wants me… the realization hit some storms are simply not meant to be survived but designed to strip you of everything and anything.

Loose-hearted man, sleepy was he

Love for the devil brought him to me

Seeds of a thousand drawn to his sin

Seasons of wither holding me in.

Flashback…..

“Andy,” my voice is thick with emotion because all that we'd been through. Anger is turning into desperation but he can't, he just can’t do this anymore. – “Please. I need you here.”

“I can’t.” his voice is weak and trembling slightly and I force my eyes shut– the singulat though flashed...damage. Hide. Now. In that moment there was no way to know my world would completely unravel, we were two souls of one beating heart cursed to be untied never to be whole. But the love between us Andy discarded aside as if it were nothing, yet out of our control we would be forever tangled within each other's embrace.

I didn't exactly understand why he felt differently or what caused him to just without warning drift. All I now knew, was that the man standing before me has changed, there is an indifferent air around him.

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

6 months ago…..

Andy pressed his chest against my back wrapping his arms around my waist before kissing the back of my shoulder tenderly. My heart swells at his gesture, leaning back into his embrace.

“I love you” You whisper, Andy’s arms tightening around me.

He presses another kiss onto my shoulder. I let out a small sigh, I breathe him in deeply, taking in his the deep scent of hiscologne. Letting the smell wash over me, I close my eyes, I completely lose myself in the feel of his presence.

……….

I trudge through the apartment, breath shaky and tears welling in my eyes. But they still don’t fall. I feel completely numb.

I walk into our bedroom, completely catatonic and moving as if on auto pilot. I sit on the bed, staring at nothing in particular. The moonlight streams through the window catching a large photo frame hanging on one of the walls. My eyes are unspeakably drawn to the glinting photo.

It’s our wedding photo.

It’s a candid shot. Me and Andy are staring at each other, smiling tenderly at one another. Andy’s arm is around my waist, his head slightly bent and leaned into mine, almost as if he’s about to kiss me. The white of my dress is a stark contrast against his black suit, the pale pink bouquet of roses on the floor as I hold onto his arms. The sun is setting in the background, both our silhouettes set ablaze with a halo of sunlight.

I remember the day as if it were yesterday. It was the happiest day of my life. Andy sang to me in his deep vibrato voice of his. He danced with me. Held me close. He kissed me telling me he loved me. The memory of him reciting his wedding vows pops into my mind.

I can’t help it. I break down, sobs wracking through my body as I cry into the dark, quiet of the room. My body shakes with the cries, tears flowing freely. I feel the warmth of them run down my cheeks before disappearing into my shirt. I fall back onto the bed, curled into a ball as I weep out all my feelings, all of the hurt and heartache I feel.

I cry and cry until finally, I can’t cry anymore. My throat is raw, now only dry hiccuping as I somehow run out of tears. My heart aches, my headaches and my eyes sting.

I tried my hardest to remind him why we fell in love with each other and why we married. But the harder I tried, the more he pulled away. Bit by bit, he slips from my life. I didn't understand why can but he fell out of love with me; I could see it in his eyes when he walked away. He wouldn't buy me flowers every week anymore. He no longer kissed me goodbye. He no longer sent me little messages about how much he loved and missed me. The more I try to occupy his attention, the more he refuted me, and my heart just aches all over again, longing for him to come back to me.

Heat of my candle show me the way

Seeds of a thousand drawn to his sin

Seasons of wither holding me in

Oh woe is me, I feel so badly for you

Oh woe is me, I feel so sadly for you in time

Bound to lose your mind

Live on borrowed time

Take the wind right out of your sail

Time heals nothing it only makes the memories fade away, It’s sad when someone you know becomes someone you knew.

What hurts more than losing Andy is knowing that he wasn't fighting to keep me. Nothing hurts more than realizing he meant everything to me, but I meant nothing to him. It’s funny how he could break my heart, and yet I can still love him with all the little pieces.

Love is not as much a choice as it is considered a feeling. Staying in love takes a commitment. The worst thing is not only being told that someone has fallen out of love with you but being told that they haven’t been in love with you for some time. When you find out you're losing your soulmate it's as if every bit of oxygen has been expelled from your lungs.

Flashback…..

“Do… do you even love me anymore?” I whisper, dread heavy in my bones as the question slips from my lips. Andy’s eyes soften and I see the hesitation on his face as he contemplates whether he should answer me or simply walk away. Finally coming to a decision, he stares directly in my eyes and I can almost feel the next words.

“I don’t know” he replies, the uncertainty reflected in his eyes before he walks away.

I watch him walk away from me, I was trying much harder to save this relationship than he was. In the last few months it was a last ditch effort to go through couples therapy. I know my husband wants to be anywhere but here at the moment. His entire demeanour is closed off, arms and legs crossed as he stares out the window.

"When was the last time you actually paid attention to your wife?” he asks and Andy balks, unsure of what to say at the sudden tangent. More importantly, he doesn’t know the answer to his question. Andy abruptly turned about to storm out of the office, “If you have nothing to say that’s fine. Just think about it. I believe our next session is in another two weeks. I want you to think about this relationship carefully." The therapist says, his tone final. Andy quickly leaves the room, his mind in a jumble for the first time in a while.

…………..

For the first time in over half a year, Andy look at me; pays close attention noticing the sadness in my eyes. He swallows thickly, eyes scanning over my face and as if willing me to look at him. He wants to say something, but he doesn’t even know where to start. He frowns slightly at that. You’d been together for almost ten years, so why was it suddenly so hard to speak to you?

All of a sudden, the distance between you two hits me like a freight train. I can feel the huge rift between the two of us. I sigh slightly, wondering when it had gotten so big. Did he always feel this far away from me?

Why did it feel like I was worlds away, almost unattainable? The two of us had always been close, always been able to speak about everything and anything. There were times when we’d both wake up in the early hours of the morning, still in bed and voice heavy with sleep and speak about the smallest, silliest of things.

We had spent close to a decade together; we knew each other like the back of each other’s hands. He didn’t look back as the the door closed behind him that night. Bereft now of pain and I felt the dying spark of embers from our relationship. Like autumn dyes the leaves bright red, I encountered a love that I'd hoped would last longer than a fading breeze.

Beauty is fleeting, evanescent, But all of it ended, Andy’s presence in the photos won't fade away as easily with the flow of time.

Because love is ephemeral and memories die, only the photos of him will accompany me until I take my last breath. I can say, I was once loved; Together, in the fires of hell, we will burn with the memories of the most beautiful moments in life, the moments I shared with Andy the remaining proof.

#andy biersack x reader #andy biersack imagine #andy biersack #fan fiction

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xxisxxisxxis · 3 years

Text

Gateway Drug | Part Ninety-Three [PT. 1]

Words: 3k

Warning(s): explicit language, drug abuse

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NIKKI

1987

I throw another drink back not long after yelling obscurities at Viv as she stomped out of VIP to leave and go home, between more lines of blow, a trip to the bathroom to get a fix and some drinks, we decide to take the party to Steven's new place.

"You guys just can't be too loud, though, got it?" He says as sternly as he can as we get inside and he fumbles for his key.

"Alright, alright, alright," I mumble, stepping inside, grabbing his bottle of Jack off the counter before getting comfortable on the floor by the window.

We all talk--as best we can--for a little while, Steven and the boys making some calls to get some dealers here, and the only thing on my mind is getting a potent fix, until I hear something...very faint, very familiar...very, very, familiar...I furrow my brows to focus more, ignoring the guys' laughter and voices, my eyes training on the wall opposite of me.

My subconscious puts it together before my conscious does, like smelling a blanket from a childhood home and immediately being taken back before your brain can quite grasp the feeling.

Multiple memories shrouding that sound of Vivian that only she can really pull off.

It doesn't take rocket science equation solving skills to put together why I'm currently hearing her soft, pretty moans carry on next door.

I'm pretty sure more members of Guns, aside from Steven, are staying here right now.

Apparently Stevie hears it not long after and slips into the next suite, where the sound is coming from, that's connected to his suite.

I don't hear it anymore after he gets back in here.

"Dealer's coming or what?" I ask Steven, my high starting to get blowed from the fact that my wife is next door on her back for someone who isn't me.

I'd be jealous if I weren't numb to it by now.

"They're all tied up, man." Steven tells me and I groan, thinking for a second.

An idea comes to mind that makes me want to bang my head against the wall, but I'm desperate and left with no option at this point.

"I know a guy," I mumble, dragging myself up to the phone in the little kitchen area, reluctantly dialing a number I never wanted to dial again.

It rings once...twice...three times…

"Hello?" He answers and I roll my eyes.

"'Sup man, it's Nikki." I reply, trying to put on my best "friendly" voice, even though it's making my blood boil that the bastard I could see myself killing is ultimately the one that's gonna be able to save the day.

"Hey, dude." He replies.

"Me and a few buddies of mine are out here at the Franklin Plaza Suites and need a few things." I rub the back of my neck.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

It's quiet, and he reluctantly breathes out.

"I'll see what I can do." I can hear the satisfaction in his voice that I'm having to call him.

Within the next forty minutes there's more people here than I'm comfortable with, groupies, and hangerson, and other drug adoring morons, and then my saving grace comes through the door once Steven lets him in.

Slash is already slipping into a Jack induced stupor. Sally came in a few minutes ago screaming at all of us guys for leaving her at the Cat House.

We didn't even realize we'd forgotten her.

She's in the bathroom, probably keeping herself in there to keep from starting an argument with Slash in front of everyone.

Robbin's on the phone with Laurie.

Apparently it's just in men's nature to get fucked up, call our wives, and profess our undying love for them despite the fact we cheat on them nearly every time we hangout with our friends.

I wonder what would happen if I went in there on her and Duff right now.

What would she say?

Probably nothing.

She'd just look at the floor and try not to cry, probably.

What would I do?

I know that I know what's going on between them, but if I actually walked in and saw them together, caught in the act…

I'd either be a pussy and cry over it, or kill them both--him first and make her watch, and then just slowly torture her or something. God, I'm fucked up. Even though I'm pretty sure being married to me is torture enough to her.

I know it's torture to me, too.

"Here dude," Sparkie hands me a syringe and a spoon, and I look at him, too out of focus to concentrate on getting it right.

"Fix me." I say to him and he scoffs.

"Okay, dude." He starts getting it ready and I look at that wall again. Staring at it, taking a sip of my drink.

Fucking Vivian.

Of course. Her. Of all the women I've hooked up with and dated in my life, she--the most harmless, at least in my dumbfuck mind when I first met her--is the one to screw me over like this.

And I've let her.

If I did what Vince does to Sharise and have that whole, "no hanging out with your boy friends without me" rule, this wouldn't even be an issue.

That's the problem. Somewhere along the way I loosened her leash a little too much and now she's chewed her way through it entirely.

"You look like you're in hell, you know," Sparkie tells me, fixing the tourniquet around my arm… "But that's okay, you're about to be in heaven in just a few seconds." He assures me.

I know he's right. I just need to hang on to that.

In just a few seconds, I'll be--

I hear Vivian, again, and I reach around my neck and grab onto her cross I've been wearing for weeks, now, squeezing it at the sting of the needle going into my skin.

I feel him shoot me up, my mind waiting to chase and catch the high that I just know is about to come.

My fingers slip from the crucifix, and I feel myself fall back before a weightless feeling washes over me.

Present

I keep rereading the damn paper, repeatedly, trying my hardest not to throw a fit...

Nikki Sixx and his wife, Vivian, recently confirmed that she is indeed pregnant issuing a simple and straightforward,"Yes, it's true," statement earlier this week through Nikki's manager, and--as speculated--her pregnancy is not with Nikki. Many fans and some friends of the couple are blown out of the water by this sudden turn of events, others who are familiar with the rockstar and his band but never really paid much attention to his personal relationships, are now curious as to who exactly Vivian Sixx is. Well, in an open letter, rumored to be intended for print in Rolling Stone, a few anonymous former roadies of Mötley Crüe--who partook on their Girls, Girls, Girls, tour in 1987--are here to introduce who they saw behind the scenes of flashing cameras and public sweet moments with husband Nikki.

"This is a letter to Mötley Crüe fans, we're a mere handful of people out of the many who witnessed monstrosities behind the scenes while on tour with the Crüe since Summer of 1987, none of which were caused by the band or any members, themselves, but one woman in particular. We had no reason to really bring any of this up, but in light of recent news, we are disheartened and angered of the betrayal against one of the four men who gave us an opportunity to live several months in our lives that will forever impact us in the best way known, and provide heartwarming memories by the dozen. This is not an attack on Nikki Sixx, especially given his past struggles with opioid addiction, alcoholism, as well as his abusive wife. The first time we met Vivian, she was polite and friendly, but very assertive. It was obvious it would be her way or no way, and often times she and Nikki would go back and forth with who was running things. It was obvious Nikki was unwell at times, whether it'd be hungover, sick from withdrawal or simply tired from a show the night before. Vivian would choose these times when he was at his most exhausted to pick fights with him. He'd tell her to go away or 'f**k off,' and she'd continue to verbally and mentally beat him down more than he clearly already was. When Rolling Stone came to interview the band shortly after the wild rumor Vanity started publicly, we were told Vivian had tried to physically attack the reporter working on the story, simply because he made the comment that Pepsi wasn't good for her. Small things like that would often set her off, leaving security, managers, and band members to try to dodge fists while pulling her off of her unsuspecting victim, who was typically Nikki. Many times we'd hear them arguing in the hotel rooms, dressing rooms, bathrooms, tour bus, etc., usually followed by sounds of what we can only describe as 'pitchy, hungry, pornstar moans' on her part--clearly using her body to get back in his good graces after wearing him down. After their fights, Nikki would always have a bottle of alcohol on hand, some kind of drug, and would keep to himself. Our comradery with him soon began to dwindle with each month because it was obvious she was beginning to suck the life out of him. He was more introverted overtime, and higher more often than he was at the beginning of the tour. It really got bad when Guns N' Roses came on tour for a month, because Vivian's attacks on him and the other members of Mötley Crüe, began to pop off as randomly and explosively as fireworks. We'd witness some foul exchange (brought on by Vivian) between her and Nikki backstage, either verbal or physical, nearly every night. People can talk down on the Crüe for being bad boys, but they've shown everybody that's helped them on tour, gratitude. All the wives and girlfriends that would come on that we'd offer food and drinks to would always express gratitude with a smile and a warm heart, but Vivian would always stay silent and cold towards us. She's a trashy, bitchy, whiney, hateful, spiteful, conniving, plotting python that now has her cold-blooded grasp around not only Nikki's neck, but also Duff's. Her game is to find the most well rounded guys while maintaining under her guise that she's a kind, Christianly woman, and see how far she can push them until they work themselves to death, literally, with trying to please her. We aren't surprised that she's pregnant, she probably video taped herself conceiving the damn thing and sent it to Nikki. We hope she did so it can be practice for her inevitable low-budget porn career when she runs out of rockstars to f**k and kill, as we've mentioned, she already sounds like one in the throws of passion. Anyway, Nikki, we're hoping you decide to kick her aside and start fresh. Duff, get a paternity test, dude. Crüe fans, don't let that red-headed bitch fool you."

"Who the hell is Page Six to give these bastards a platform in the first place, Doc?!" I snap.

"Nikki, I am handling it, I'm on it--"

"--You tell the L.A. Times and Rolling fucking Stone if they take this shit and run with it, too, I'm personally coming to their offices and fucking them up. Not the publications themselves, but the people trying to put this out there in print, individually." I hiss.

"Nikki, just--"

"--And who the hell--what roadies did this?!"

"I don't know, Nikki, but I'm trying my hardest to get it cleaned up." He assures me.

"'She's a trashy, bitchy, whiney, hateful, spiteful, conniving, plotting python that now has her cold-blooded grasp around not only Nikki's neck, but also Duff's. Her game is to find the most well rounded guys while maintaining under her guise that she's a kind, Christianly woman, and see how far she can push them until they work themselves to death, literally, with trying to please her'?!" I read that snippet, just so he can be reminded how fucked this is, trying my hardest not to start pitching a fucking fit.

"Fucking AJaxx isn't even cleaning this up! Press mongrels are gonna be humping these bastards legs for giving them sales for the next nine months!" I outburst.

"Sixx, don't worry about it, alright? It won't go past this shitty Page Six story, okay?"

"It's fucking horse shit." I ignore him, trying to keep my cool. "Fuck." I kick at the leg of the table, running a hand through my hair.

"I guess one decently positive thing is that Viv doesn't know about this," he says next and I shake my head a little, feeling a migraine starting to come on, strong.

I was tempted then to check myself out of rehab and 'handle' it myself, but decided it wouldn't be worth it. I hoped it would go away and it would all blow over eventually.

"Vivian, don't listen to any of it, alright? Me and you and everyone on that tour know damn well it wasn't just you being a bitch and us being the innocent victims." I say through the phone as Viv tries to calm down, her breathing shaky and ragged from crying so much.

"I know that but the fans and other people don't know that." She says to me, her voice quiet and tired. "I'm so embarrassed, Nikki." She adds. "I'm already embarrassed that everybody knows I cheated on you but now this whole thing…" she trails off and I feel guilt tug at my heart.

I don't know what the fuck to say.

I'm used to criticism from the press, but none of them have tore into me or any of the guys--except Vince after the Razzle accident--so personally and extensively as they're tearing at her.

Calling me a devil worshipper and saying my music is shitty gets annoying and frustrating and even infuriating at times, but attacking my wife and calling her a low budget porn star and telling me to kick her aside?

Fuck that.

"I'm sorry, Viv. I really am." I assure her, honestly, closing my eyes when I hear her stifle a little sob out. "Where are you at right now?" I ask.

"Duff wanted me to meet his family." She tells me. "I'll be back Saturday."

I'm relieved she actually has a reason for not being here, but I'm also hurt that she didn't give me a heads up. But I don't want to talk about it right now. I think she's been punished enough today.

"Okay...you didn't show yesterday and I was just worried." I admit.

"I know, it was just a spur of the moment thing. He asked me last week and I didn't think it'd be an issue."

"Oh."

I glance around and let out a breath.

"I, um, I'm gonna go. I got a group thing with the guys at 3:00." I tell her.

"Okay."

"Are you gonna be okay or do I need to break out and kick someone's ass?" I ask her, half-joking, and she laughs, making me smile.

"I'll be okay." She tells me.

"I'll see you next week, Sixx."

I can practically hear the smile in her voice when she says, "see you next week."

We hang up and I rub my lips together, taking a few deep breaths before heading to where me and the guys meet with Amber three times a week now.

Tommy and Vince are waiting for me, and I plop down beside them, leaning forward, elbows on my knees, hands running over my face…

"Psst," Tommy nudges me and I look at him as Vince gets up to grab a cup of coffee.

"What?" I ask him, and he puts his finger over his mouth.

"You seen the shit they're on Vivian for?" He whispers and I furrow my brows, looking around.

"The room is empty except us, dude, why are you--"

"--Shh," he says.

"Why are you whispering?" I finish my sentence.

"Because they probably have this motherfucker bugged out the ass." He replies, glancing around again. "I'm thinking of breaking outta here, man." He whispers very, very quietly.

"You do know we're not being held here by legal obligation, right? They won't chase us down and have the cops on us if we just check ourselves out." I point out and he furrows his brows a little.

"Oh."

"Why do you wanna 'break out'?" I ask.

"I miss Heather and my dogs and I wanna be able to be there Viv, dude. She fucking needs us right now and we're, like, over an hour away--disconnected from shit. I mean we wouldn't even know what the fuck was going on in the world if Doc wasn't keeping us in the loop, ya know?"

I think about it for a second.

"We're over a month into our three month stay, dude." I state. "We can't just throw in the towel, now."

"I don't mean ditch it and stay gone. I just mean check out for a few days, go back home, see what all is going on and come back." He shrugs.

It seems oddly appealing.

Way too appealing, actually.

"I don't know, Tommy…" I rub the back of my neck.

"I already talked to Vince about it and he's down."

"Of course he is."

"And we wouldn't be doing it tomorrow or anything. I'm thinking next week."

"Does Doc know?" I ask.

"Fuck Doc." He scoffs.

"Agreed." I nod, chuckling.

"So, you in or not, man?"

"Just for a few days?"

"Just for a few days."

"Then we're all coming back in?"

"Like we never left to begin with."

"No drugs, no parties, not even alcohol."

"Just spending time with our families and then back to the grindstone." He states.

"...I'm in."

...You know when you're on a shitty diet, eating boring, tasteless, "healthy" food, and then decide you've been stuck to your diet long enough that you can have one slice of cake because you're disciplined enough to control yourself? And now, two years later, you're still telling yourself you'll get back on your diet because after that slice of cake you just said, "fuck it," and never thought about forcing yourself to eat lettuce again? Let's just say leaving rehab prematurely works the same damn way.

#gateway drug #nikki sixx #nikki sixx x oc #nikki sixx fanfiction

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likefacesaretohearts · 4 years

Text

Close in Quarantine

Category - friends to lovers trope

Warnings - smut, unprotected sex

Word count: 1486

Hi y'all! This is my first fic on this page so I'd love to hear your thoughts on it. I want this to be a place to have fun and where WOC can see themselves reflected in fics. Much love!

Chris was saying the usual goodbyes and thank yous that occur at the end of an interview. Because everything was being done over Zoom and the video lagged even with the best of WiFi, there was the awkward overlapping of him and the interviewer talking at the same time. Once he was in the clear and was sure the call was off, he let out a big sigh and closed his laptop.

"I swear they ask the same questions every press run I do,” he said.

You emerge from the kitchen with a cold beer in hand, finally able to go into the living room. Chris didn't want you wandering around in the background while he was on the Zoom call because he knew that if anyone caught a glimpse of you, social media and the gossip blogs would be alight with rumors of Chris Evans and His Mysterious New Flame. In reality, you weren't together. Neither of you were really sure what you were, but there was certainly an ember of attraction there that had been building since you started quarantining together.

“Why don't you let me ask you the questions then,” you tease as you plop down on the couch near him.

“I have to polish up my singing voice, maybe work on my choreography first, huh?” he said.

You were a music journalist, so you spent your work days talking to rockstars and the most polished pop stars about their lives and music then cranking out long form articles for their fans and haters alike to read. Chris came over and sat next to you on the couch with his arm resting on the back of the couch behind you. Being this close to him made you nervous but you didn't mind...it was a bit of a rush. He’d started singing a song purposefully off key, taking the beer from your hand and using it as a microphone.

“You are no Mariah Carey, sir,” you said, trying not to give him the satisfaction of cracking a smile..

He knocked back some sips of your beer and you try to grab it from him to no avail. He playfully moves the bottle around and holds it in the air, using his tall stature as an advantage.

“We’ve been quarantined together for three weeks, your germs are my germs at this point,” he said.

“Bull shit that is not how that works,” you said laughing.

You finally get a hold of his hand with the beer in it, but suddenly the vibe changes. Chris, with his scruffy quarantine beard and slightly grown out hair, had grabbed hold of you and pulled you into him in a bear hug in one swift movement. Over the past few weeks living together during the pandemic, you’d gotten to know each other much better than you had when the world was “normal.” You'd seen each other first thing in the morning and gotten used to speaking freely with each other without fear of sounding weird, as it turned out you both were. You had been a friend of Scott's for a few months, and met Chris through him while he was filming a movie in L.A. After meeting him during a night of drinking at Scott’s place, you hit it off but were only casual friends...until the rona hit.

One night in the beginning of it all, you were lonely in your apartment when Scott convinced you it'd be a good idea to quarantine with his sexy ass brother that you hardly knew.

“Y/N, it's the perfect idea! You're both single and I'm in Massachusetts with our family,” Scott said. “There's no reason you should drive yourselves crazy quarantining alone when you could just live together —just until all this is over.”

Your family was miles away in Texas and your L.A. friends had their own thing going on, so you took him up on the offer, totally skipping the steps of even establishing that you like each other to living together during a global pandemic. The first day was a bit awkward as it was natural to be — you were in someone who was two steps up from a stranger’s home and self conscious because, again, he was fine as hell – but that night the two of you sat on his living room floor and bonded.

“If we tell each other our darkest and most embarrassing parts of our lives, the awkwardness is gone,” Chris had said. So you spent 5 hours talking about the deepest hurts and the greatest joys of your lives. From then on, it felt like you had known each other for years. You even got close with Dodger, who at first wanted nothing to do with you or your cat that you’d brought with you, Mocha.

You relaxed into Chris’ arms, letting your desire to be close to him take precedence over the practical side of you that didn't want to potentially ruin the dynamic you'd built. Chris, almost as if it was instinctual, kissed the top of your head and held you as if he had done it a hundred times before.

Fuck the dynamic.

You turned around to face him, mustering every ounce of bravery you've ever had. Almost instantly, he leaned in, as if he'd been waiting on you to turn around this whole time. His beard bristled against your face as your lips crashed against each other's, finally finding their way to one another after weeks of just friendly banter. You were on top of him now, your hands grazing over his mid length hair while his traveled down to your ass.

“I've been wanting to touch you for weeks,” he said between kisses.

“Then why did I have to make the first move?” you said, a wry smile on your face.

A devious grin spread across Chris’ face as he flipped you over on the couch so that he was on top. He left wet kisses on your neck and after lifting your shirt over your head, moved to the parts of your chest left exposed from your bra and down to your stomach. Your hips bucked with an arch forming in your back, relishing in the fact that Evans’ hands and lips were all over your body.

The two of you in all your feverish affection managed to roll off of the couch and fall onto the carpet, somehow knocking down the half full beer off the coffee table in the process.

You were straddling Chris on the ground, wanting nothing more than to feel him inside of you, to feel his bare skin on yours. You noticed the beer spilled on the floor.

“Shit.”

“It's okay, babe, leave it,” Chris said, his voice gruff and husky.

He picked you up and carried you to his bedroom, a place you'd never seen. His room was pristinely clean, for a man at least — very little was out of place. He laid you on the bed with a sense of determination, whispering in your ear as he got on top of you, his shirt half off, “I'm gonna show you how bad I've been wanting this.” His Boston accent had come out in full force...you'd only heard it like this after you'd both been drinking and your own Texas twang snuck out.

“I dare you,” you replied.

Everything seemed to move at lightning speed after that. It was like there was electricity within the touch of his fingers. In a whirlwind he took off your clothes and his own and before you knew it you could feel his dick brush against you, hesitating before he entered you.

“It's ok, I trust you. I want you,” you said at a near whisper, stroking his hair.

At first it was slow, the strokes were uncertain until he got accustomed to you and started a sensual rhythm. He eased himself deeper into you, causing you to throw your head back, letting yourself meld into him. His speed picked up while his lips grazed your nipples and the sound of his wooden bed frame hitting the wall filled the room.

You were in some sort of trance from the feeling of his hips moving against yours. Slowing down a little, Chris pinned your arms to his bed, brushed some of your now wild hair out of your face and placed his hands in yours. “Look at me,” he growled. Your fingers curled around his as he drove himself deeper inside you with a sense of urgency. As you stared into his blue-gray eyes you could feel yourself falling apart, and he did soon after.

The golden light from the setting sun peeked through the windows while you laid in Chris’ arms. Neither of you said a word but you felt closer than ever. Any amount of distance that was between you was gone now.

@honeychicanawrites I would love to know what you think of this. You inspired me to start writing fics!

#chris evans x black reader #chris evans x reader #chris evans imagine #chris evans fanfic #captain america #quarantine imagine #quarantine #black writers

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inglourious-imagines · 4 years

Text

The Story of Their Lives (Lt. Aldo Raine)

Requested by: @tealaquinn

Summary: The story of Lt. Aldo Raine and Sgt. Y/N Y/L/N.

Prompts: 9 - Don't you touch her. & 12 - No one would hurt you again, or I'd kill them. & 21 - I wanna see how you lose control. & 24 - He's a badass with a good heart. & 39 - Kiss me. & 93 - You make me feel... you make me feel.

Author's Note: This is damn long so I really hope you like it! Also there are some parts in Italian so I'd like you to know, I've never learnt this language so there might be some mistakes. Feel free to send request or let me know if you wanna be tagged in these ♡

Taglist: @alienoresimagines @radiantcade @meteora-fc @kyra3155 @real-fans @not-john-watsons-blog @im-in-love-with-queen

Y/N and Aldo never showed some kind of an affection towards each other. They respected, trusted, appreciated the other one but these traits were common among the Basterds.

It seemed so innocent at first, almost like a teasing and none of the Jewish American soldiers expected to become it something more.

•••

They met at the very beginning of the Basterd's missions. Y/N was a french spy, a very famous one so she obviously got their attention since they'd gotten to France.

The Basterds recruited her in a bar and she immediately became one of them. Y/N fit within the group perfectly, like she was always destined to be a Basterd.

•••

After the third successful mission, they decided to stay the night in a local resistance hotel to relax and prepare for another action. Everyone went to their beds as soon as they could but Donny persuaded Y/N and Aldo to gamble a little before the sleep.

"C'mon, just one game!" Donny pleaded. It didn't take much and the trio was sitting around a table playing their fifth game.

"I thought you're better at poker, Lieutenant." Y/N laughed as she grabbed another money she won.

"Shut up, Sergeant. I just am a bit lenient with ya, that's all." Aldo fought back, trying to cover the fact he's worse with cards than Hugo trying to actually smile for once.

"Show me what you got, Lieutenant. I wanna see how you lose control." she winked at him and dealt the cards.

•••

Something changed in Aldo this evening. At first, Y/N was just another soldier sticking up for her country trying to end the war. But now he saw her in a totally different light.

He noticed what colour her eyes have, how she always ties her hair in a braid.

He noticed how her cheeks blushed when he praises her after a good work.

He noticed how she scrunches her nose when she disagrees with someone.

All those little things were filling his head. Aldo was so full of it. It was during the other mission when he completely understood his feelings.

•••

One moment and his whole world flipped.

Aldo was so angry with himself that he missed such an important thing.

Like a gun.

The German soldier was just kneeling in front of Aldo when he reached in his pocket. It all happened so quickly then.

The German pulled out a gun and with one last defiance he pulled the trigger. But it wasn't Aldo who got hit.

It was the woman behind him.

Aldo was like deprived of his senses. He threw away the piece of bread he was eating and jumped at the German. If Wicki didn't pulled him back, Aldo would probably beat the guy to death.

And that was Donny's speciality.

"Don't you fuckin' touch her! Or look at her!" Aldo shouted hitting his face with his fist one more time.

Y/N was so taken away by his behaviour, not really sure where the anger got from.

"What the hell, Lieutenant?" she frowned, "it's just a goddamn scratch on my arm. The bullet didn't even hit me properly."

Aldo froze whereas Donny and Hugo looked at each other with knowing smiles. They finally realised what was going on.

"Are you sure you're okay?" he tried to brush it off, gesturing to the Basterds to continue with the scalping. "It's fuckin' bleedin' a lot!"

"It's fine. Nothing too serious, Lieutenant." Y/N replied.

Aldo just shook his head as he took off his scarf and tied it around the wound. "No one would hurt ya again, or I'd kill 'em."

•••

The Basterds got ordered to rest a bit because there was a big mission on its way. They didn't know what it was but they all welcomed a full night sleep.

But Y/N didn't feel like going to bed. Instead, she took her cigarettes and sat at the balcony of the apartment they got settled in.

It was a chilly night but she didn't mind. She actually liked cold more than heat.

"Aldo seems a bit off lately." Donny's voice broke the silence as he positioned himself next to her.

"What you mean?" she asked offering him a cigarette which he gladly accepted.

"Remember how he beated up the German officer two weeks ago? I've never seen him like that."

"Oh Donny. He's just a badass with a good heart. I assure you, Aldo's just fine."

Donny shrugged but didn't say anything. This wasn't his secret to tell even though the change in Aldo's behaviour towards her was so damn obvious.

Donowitz glanced at Y/N smiling a bit. He understood why Aldo fell for the female Basterd.

•••

Bridget von Hammersmark was laying in front of them with a bullet in her leg while Hugo, Archie and Wicki were dead.

Y/N was standing in the corner of the room, lost in her thoughts, mourning for her lost friends. She knew something like that had to happen but she also believed in Basterds and part of her thought that they'll all come back home one day.

Y/N wasn't able to look at the actress anymore. She quickly left the room not looking at anyone while she lighted her cigarette. It'd been becoming too much to handle for her.

"Are you alright?" Aldo frowned as he walked towards her. "You still in?"

She laughed sarcastically at his question sheaking her head. "Yeah, of course, business. I'm in, Lieutenant."

"I didn't mean in like that and ya know it."

"Yeah, sorry. It's just-"

"I know, Sergeant. This whole event got me thinkin'. I gotta tell you something."

Y/N threw away her cigarette as she looked directly at him. She wasn't sure if it was the light or the sentiment, but Aldo's eyes never seemed so beautiful to her like they did in that moment.

"The truth is," Raine began as he stepped closer, "you make me feel... you make me feel, Sergeant."

•••

When Y/N stepped into the room in a black plain tight dress, the conversation between the Basterds immediately stopped. They'd never seen her in anything but in uniform or the civilian clothes. Donny dropped the glass of whiskey he was drinking, Hugo's knife fell on the ground with a loud crash, Omar and Wicki stayed there with their mouths wide opened, Archie Hicox smirked and Aldo, Aldo was taken away and wasn't able to get out a word.

"Please, gentlemen! This is how you welcome a beautiful woman? She looks magnificent!" Bridget von Hammersmark exclaimed gesturing towards Y/N.

"It's so uncomfortable," Y/N frowned and tried to adjust the dress a little, "and so impractical."

"I think it's perfect." Aldo breathed out and Bridget smiled in satisfaction.

Y/N truly looked like a completely new person. And Aldo's feelings mixed once again. She was so special to him, like water is special to desert. His life was dry without an excitment. She was the water that refreshed him after a long time of loneliness.

•••

Bridget, Aldo, Y/N, Donny and Omar stepped into the small local cinema, already so full of Nazi officers.

"It makes me sick." Y/N snorted as she looked around on the German uniforms. "I have two knives and a gun and I'm not afraid to use them right now."

Aldo laughed next to her and gallantly put his hand on her hip pulling her closely to him.

"Just relax, darlin'. We'll do that later." Aldo winked at her, not letting her go for a moment.

Bridget suddenly seemed like she'd seen a ghost. An older man approached their little group and Y/N immediately understood with whom they have the honor.

Bridget and Hans Landa shared a short conversation before they turned to them. Hammersmark formally introduced the Basterds and Y/N flinched a little under the German's look. Aldo noticed right away her change of attitude and stroked her hip gently.

"Sei assolutamente incredibile, signorina! Ho notato che molti ufficiali hanno voltato la testa dopo di te." (You look absolutely stunning, miss! I noticed that many officers turned their head after you.) Hans Landa grinned and Y/N thought it was the most disgusting thing ever.

"Grazie mille signore. Sono sicuro che stai esagerando." (Thank you very much, sir. I'm sure you're exaggerating.) Y/N faked a smile and clenched her hand in fist to remain calm.

All of the Basterds with Bridget jerked their heads towards her. Her fluent Italian took them away as well as Landa.

"Quanto amo la lingua italiana! E dalla bocca di una donna così bella, è una musica per le mie orecchie." (How I love the Italian language! And from the mouth of such a beautiful lady, it's a music for my ears.)

"Mi stai adulando, signor Landa. Non hai un brutto aspetto." (You're flattering me, Mr Landa. You don't look so bad yourself.) Y/N felt like vomitting any next second.

Aldo had enough of Landa's fake attitude, especially how Y/N looked so stressed and angry. He decided he has to step in or she won't hold herself back. Aldo recalled the one sentence he learnt yesterday, just in case he'd need to interrupt a moment in a formal way. This was the time.

"Baciami, adesso." (Kiss me, right now.) he stated and pulled Y/N even closer than before. She didn't manage to prostest or ask a quick question and their lips touched. She returned the kiss immediately and ran her fingers through his hair.

Until someone coughed.

They pulled apart from each other, Aldo smiling widely like a winner and Y/N blushing harder than ever.

"Ci scusi signore. Il mio ragazzo qui è un tipo appassionato. Devi perdonarlo." (Excuse us, sir. My boyfriend here is the passionate kind. You must forgive him.) Y/N stuttered and but looked directly at Landa.

•••

Operation Kino was over and it was now only her, Aldo and Utivich. They lost everybody along the way. They stood together side by side through everything. They'd become something stronger than family, friends, lovers. They faced death together and nothing could break the bond they'd created over the years. It was time to go home.

Y/N stood on the ship that was taking the Basterds, or what was left of them, home. The wind was dancing on her hair whispering secrets in her ears.

"I never thought I'd make it back home." Aldo Raine appeared next to her with a cigarette between his lips.

"None of us thought so, Lieutenant." she nodded, "but the difference is, we were wrong. Not them."

"Smart as always." Aldo grinned as he turned to her. "You should stop calling me Lieutenant. The war's over."

Y/N giggled at his statement and he could swear he'd never heard something so melodic, something so right.

"It kinda sticked with you, Lieutenant."

Aldo didn't answer, instead he threw away the cigarette and took some deep breaths. He needed whiskey, or anything else that would give him at least a bit of courage.

Aldo Raine fought in war, he saw his friends die, he was broken by everything he saw and still, asking Y/N a simple question seemed harder than surviving the bloodshed.

"Spill it out, Lieutenant." she laughed as she glanced at him.

"I hate how ya always do that. But here it goes," Aldo replied, "I've never been good at this so I'll just keep it short."

He stopped for a moment and stared at the woman in front of him. As he stepped closer, his heart was already racing like it'd never before.

"Why don't ya come to the States with me? We can buy some little house in the Smoky Mountains and live there for the rest of our fuckin' lives." Aldo confessed in his Raine kind of way, looking at her with so much hope in his eyes.

"Is this some kind of your proposal?" Y/N chuckled as she intertwined her fingers with his.

"Maybe."

"I thought you'd never ask! Of course I'll come with you! You're everything I have, Aldo."

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rixxy8173571m3w1p3 · 4 years

Text

Mamihlapinatapai Or The Season Of Longing

A/n: Here is another fic. Since it's been raining like crazy and I have spent way too much time indoors because of the weather, I decided to write this. The poem featured in this fic is called Lluvia by Jorge Luis Borges. I finally figured out how to put things under the cut so that my followers don't have to scroll through a large post 😅 It's another piece set before Doofus Rick and the reader were dating. Feel free to check out the other fics in my Masterpost.

In this fic the reader isn't the only one longing

___________

Imagine that instead of a blue sky, there was an off white, almost grey sky, and what should've been wispy white clouds were blankets of rumbling thunderstorms without a drop of rain; that was how you thought you might've felt. There was a name to this feeling, but you weren't sure what to call it; as though you were missing something you couldn't place; not sadness or grief, but whatever came in between. No, nothing bad had happened, and there hadn't been any disagreements between you and Rick, but something did occur which fed this alien feeling. It seemed that only a few days ago you were alright, but then you invited him over and he had a chance to look over those books you had mentioned. That day he had returned home from work and came over right after; offering his best of smiles and a piece of candy from his labcoat pocket as soon as he crossed the threshold of your doorway; it was nothing out of the ordinary, but it was charming all the same.

With swiftness, you had led him to your hallway closet so that you could bring down the box of books sitting on the upper shelf; that was where you kept a great portion of your father's old books. Father had been a fan of languages and botany, but ventured into the bizarre mystery from time to time; being a master of neither, you had hidden them away for a later date; mostly because the memories were more disheartening then they space they took up. With all your might, you stood on the tips of your toes in a vain attempt to reach, but your fingers barely brushed the edge of it; you should’ve just used the step ladder. It was Rick's small huff of effort which alerted you to his nearness as he unexpectedly stretched up and grabbed said box when you had a little trouble. Goodnaturedly, he carried it towards the kitchen while you took a moment to calm your girlish heart.

Coaxed away from your thoughts by the dusty cardboard and the delighted guest, you nodded lightly to give him the go-ahead to help himself. His gentle presence made him a joy to study; not in the way he examined things in the world or of the world, but in the way one does when fascinated by a butterfly or a fresh bloom hidden in an otherwise barren bush; he was a miracle. With care he pulled out one book after another, glancing through their pages and making piles for which one's he'd like to borrow. In a way he seemed to belong to this house; as though what wasn't found within pages of novels could be sought, and felt beyond reason; flowing calmly and relished in these favorable moments. Although it wasn't much, and that borrowing books could be of little consequence except to the reader itself, you hated to see him go.

Now thinking of it days later, you found yourself wondering about its significance as well as a plethora of other things as you walked to the store and back. You hadn't needed anything in particular, but you felt slightly better being outdoors; the fresh air allowed you to believe you could think better. The sounds of light traffic and grass being cut somewhere along in the neighborhood felt timeless as you walked around the corner, almost home. The wind blew, rustling your clothes and you narrowly lost the receipt that hung out of your pocket, but that didn’t bother you.

Rain clouds were rolling in from the west and you hoped it wouldn't rain before you reached home. And the closer you got, the more you could see the familiar house of your lovable neighbor. A smile couldn't help but stretch across your face at the thought and you hoped he was home so that you could ask if he'd had a chance to look those books over but that alien feeling bloomed again; the sinking, drowning, heavy feeling. How you wanted to be with him despite what reason thought was logical. The dance of your heart would've loved nothing more than to place a dozen or more kisses upon his smile lines while he stammered into the next week. Oh, your foolish heart had taken on a personification of its own these days; speaking and thinking of itself and it's wants like a second brain; draining you whenever it appeared.

Yet, before you knew it you had reached home and dropped off what you had bought before stepping out again. From your front yard, you could see that he was in the garage and you questioned whether you should go over and attempt to alleviate this feeling; it’d vanish whenever you were with him. You must’ve stood there thinking for a while as to what ought to be done for the pitter-patter of rain broke this trance-like state and you ran back towards your front porch. How silly you have become as of late with this strange crush of yours. Weren’t you past these sort of schoolgirl feelings? Perhaps, but it was more than that.

You sunk into your wicker bench and listened to the sound of the rain as it hit the roof and walkway. The earthy scent of the lawn and the splash of puddles as cars drove by was a welcomed distraction. A nap didn’t seem like such a bad idea. Yet, gentle footsteps and the sound of a closed umbrella woke another sort of feeling within you; that of hope.

“Golly, it - it sure is raining cats and dogs t-today.” he commented.

The words were out of your mouth as soon as you were aware of him; of this creature who walked out of a daydream. “I didn’t think I’d get to see you.”

“Huh? Are you alright? Did s-something happen?”

“I'm fine,” you answered; all at once conscious of him and your surroundings. “it’s just...I thought about coming over to ask if you checked out any of the books but it started to rain.”

“Th-that's part of the reason I'm here,” he confessed. “I-I had noticed you went out for a-a walk and wanted to make sure you had come home safely.”

“As you can see, I made it back in one piece. Although, I did get my hair wet. Though, that's the least of my problems.”

“Do you mind if I-I-I take a seat?”

Patting the space beside you, you nodded. “Not at all.”

He set his umbrella to the side before he seated himself and turned towards you. His warmth radiated from him and being as tall as he was, the bench might’ve been too low to the ground since his legs seemed to stick out too much, but he made no complaint. From his inner labcoat pocket, he pulled out a small book. “I thought y-y-you might enjoy this.”

“A book?”

Handing it to you, he commented. “I thought y-you might enjoy this collection of poems. I um - I bookmarked my favorites but I'd like t-t-to know what your thoughts about them would be.”

You knew this whimsical creature was well-read in many respects, but you hadn’t given much thought to the possibility of including works of a more abstract nature. “Sure, that sounds lovely. Though, I hope you don't mind me asking. Do you read works like this often? It's not because I find it strange. Honestly, I find it fascinating and wonderful that you would even consider it, but I ask because I thought….well, I thought you only read serious works related to your work.”

Scratching the back of his neck, he explained. “I read whenever I-I-I find the time and it uh - it usually doesn’t matter what the subject may be. In the pursuit of knowledge, one reads everything. For example, th-the terms and conditions for some computer programs or limited warranties at times list amusing reasons why y-you might be able to get a replacement for a damaged product. It keeps things interesting.”

“I see. It certainly makes sense.”

With a smile, he sighed with contentment as he looked towards the street. “Boy, th-this weather reminds me of a certain poem. It's called um - it's called Lluvia. That's the Spanish word for rain.”

“That's right,” you remembered; his last name should’ve been a reminder enough. “you can speak Spanish. I forget sometimes since you only talk to me in English. So, tell me, how does this poem go?”

“Please forgive me since my Spanish is a-a little rusty.”

Taking a deep breath, he recited calmly. “Bruscamente l-la tarde se ha aclarado, porque y-ya cae la lluvia minuciosa. Cae o cayó. La lluvia es una c-cosa qué sin duda sucede en el pasado. Quien la oye caer ha recobrado, el t-tiempo en que la suerte venturosa. Le r-r-reveló una flor llamada rosa y el curioso color del c-colorado. Esta lluvia que ciega los cristales, alegrará en p-p-perdidos arrabales. Las negras uvas de una parra en cierto. Patio que ya no existe. La mojada, t-tarde me trae la voz, la voz deseada, de mi padre que vuelve y que no ha muerto.”

You stared at this man, amazed by his fluency and ability to fascinate you with the simplest things. Yet again, a reason to be marveled by him. “Whoa, I don't know what you said, but it sounded beautiful when you said it.”

Turning towards you, his smile seemed brighter than usual albeit a bit sheepish. "It's n-nothing special."

"But it is, especially since you can think and speak in more than one language. I can't do that."

"I-I can teach you if you'd like."

"No, that's okay. You're busy enough as it is, but I appreciate the thought. You really are so incredibly smart."

"And you…eres maravillosa."

"What?”

His smile faltered a bit, and he thought to himself for a bit on what he was about to say before his smile returned; albeit more gently. “Eres amable y-y dulce. No soy digno de una amiga como tu.”

“Rick,” you started; confused as to why there seemed to be some sort of admission that you weren’t able to understand. “all the poetic talk is lovely, but I don't think it's fair if you reply in a way I can't understand."

"Si pudieras entenderme," he sighed, wringing his hands in the nervous way he did. "me pregunto qué creerías si te expresara cuánto me preocupo por ti."

Raising from the bench, he said to himself. "Si puedo llegar a la luna, algun dia podria...¿Q-que estoy haciendo?"

"Rick?"

“I’m o-okay. I uh - I zoned out there for a second. I’m sorry.”

“Really? Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I’ll be fine.”

He studied you for a moment longer; a world of words unsaid in his melancholic glances. Was something secretly hurting him like it was hurting you? You could only wonder as thoughts were drowned out by the sound of the rain.

———————————-

It was warm and comfortable with him sitting beside you. His presence always provided a sense of calm that was softer and sweeter than that of the sedatives that eased your anxiety. Why you could fall asleep right here if it weren’t for that fact that you’d be mortified if you allowed it to happen.

“Are you a-a big fan of the rain?” he wondered.

This question had come after a half-hour of companionable silence. “Hmm, it’s not the rain so much as the memories that accompany it.”

“Do y-you want to talk about it?”

“Only if you don’t mind hearing it.”

“I-I don’t mind.” He reassured you.

“Well,” you started. “my dad enjoyed rainy days since he said the plants almost seemed to smile when rainwater hit their leaves.”

“Th-that’s a nice thought.“

“Yeah, I thought so too. When it rains like this, and I’m watching it fall,” you softened; feeling lighter because you had someone to share your thoughts with. “it feels like I’m looking through a curtain. It’s not completely see-through, but the shapes I can see appear softer and more mysterious like how you must’ve appeared when you showed up. Too bad I wasn’t paying attention.”

Oh, you did not just say that out loud. “Or something like that.” You added.

If he had noticed you had tripped over your words then he gave no indication of it. “Gosh, I-I never thought of it that way b-before. I usually see it as part of the pr-precipitation cycle and it smells nice, doesn't it?”

“It does. I wouldn’t mind bottling up this scent, but then it might lose what makes it special.”

Yet, if you could bottle up his scent, it would’ve been nice to keep nearby just in case you wanted a little piece of him.

“That um - that reminds me,” he brightened. “I had baked some mandarin scones before walking over tonight, and I-I-I thought you’d like t-t-t-t-to try them but I didn’t want to risk them getting wet. I-I thought we could share some over tea tomorrow if that’s alright with you.”

Tea time with Rick was like what others did over rounds of drinks; it was to unwind and talk about the day; minus the drunkenness and the unforeseen embarrassment. “Don’t you have to work tomorrow?”

“Gee, I um - I was supposed to, but there was a shift change. Actually, I have a shift t-t-tonight in a-about an hour, but I had wanted to make sure you were alright before I left.”

“Why?”

“Because I-I thought you were going t-to walk over.”

So he had thought the same thing. “Oh, well like I said earlier I had planned to or thought to, but the weather put a damper on things.”

“Yeah.”

“Though, isn’t it funny that we both had the same thought?”

He smiled at that. “It's because gr-great minds think alike.”

What right did he have to be this adorable you thought. All you could do was smile up at him and fight the urge to run your fingers through what appeared to be soft hair; as odd as you had initially thought his haircut was when you met him, you couldn’t imagine him any other way. Still, drawn to his bright, kind eyes, you wondered if you were being attracted by some invisible force to test the limits of this friendship, and yet you knew well enough that now wasn’t the time. Following a slow blink of his, you mentioned without looking away. “Now that we have gotten to see each other, it's probably time to let you go. I wouldn’t want you to be late for work.”

“Y-you’re right.” he straightened; jumping up on his feet with much more agility then seemed possible for someone so mature. “Until next time.”

There he was leaving again when you didn’t want him to. Still, you had no right or claim to him. At least, not yet. “See you tomorrow.”

Grabbing his umbrella, he motioned to open it but paused, and slowly, but surely turned back; his smile almost boyish. “Gosh, I-I will see you tomorrow, right?”

Clutching the book of poems to your breast, you giggled. “Whichever way it may be, we will. I promise.”

Fin

#doofus rick x reader #doofus rick #rick sanchez x female reader #j19z7 #j19ζ7 #j-19-zeta-7 #rick and morty #rnm fanfiction #rnm #Rick x reader #my fanfiction #my works #rick sanchez x reader #Rick Sanchez

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mikkomacko · 4 years

Text

Christmas Magic 4

The clouds hang low in the air, heavy and grey with the warning of an impending storm. Y/n won't admit it out loud, but she really hopes it snows so much that the carnival will be closed for a few days so she can have some time off. Being out in the cold all day has begun to take it's toll on her, leaving her dragging and aching. She always gets sick after the holidays from working and being so busy, but it seems this year it was hitting her sooner.

Her shift on stage has been switched with Kevin's because her throat was too raw to sing, leaving her to man one of the gift booths with Emma. Her fingers tremble in the cold as she hands a gift receipt to the woman across from her, wishing her a happy holidays with the best smile she can muster. She knows it doesn't reach her eyes, it doesn't even come close to her eyes but at least it's something.

"Babe, you should just go home." Emma advises gently, restocking the candy cane pens. Y/n falls onto the stool, shivering and burying her face in her scarf.

"I can't," she mumbles through the fabric, "Ophelia starts Christmas break this week and I promised Harry I'd help watch over her, and I can't do that if I have to work from taking off days today."

"Well you won't be able to watch her anyway if you're still sick. I'm sure McDreamy won't want you around his daughter." Emma points out, matter of fact-ly.

Y/n rolls her eyes, but she knows Emma has a point. She can't risk getting Ophelia sick, but she can't bail on Harry either (not that she'd ever want to).

"I'm gonna go get more tissue." Y/n grumbles, ignoring the way Emma cockily snickers behind her. Boots crunching in the snow and hood pulled high over her head, y/n finds the nearest bathroom and immediately stuffs her pockets with paper towels. They make her nose raw but she'd rather that than have a drippy nose all day.

Y/n ignores the mirror, knowing it'll just highlight her dark eyes and red nose against her pale skin and chapped lips. But the bathroom is warm, so she props her butt against the sink, back facing the mirror she's avoiding, and pulls her phone out of her coat pocket. She's got a text from Harry and the room heats up a couple degrees.

Ophelia's Papa 🌻: Dinner tonight? The little Miss (and Nipper) miss you desperately :)

She bites back her smile.

Dinner with Ophelia and Nipper?! That's tempting...

His reply comes within minutes, and she's glad he's not busy because she doesn't feel like going back to work while waiting for a reply.

Ophelia's Papa 🌻: And me too of course

Y/n tries not to giggle like a middle school girl, but she can't help herself when it comes to Harry.

Oh yeah you too, of course

She can picture his little scowl and the little wrinkle that creases between his eyebrows, remembering all the times over their past couple dates that she's longed to run her fingers over his face, smoothing out the mark.

Ophelia's Papa 🌻: Is that a yes love?

Her smile falls, knowing she shouldn't be going to have dinner with him tonight. She needs to rest so she can get better. She can't hang around when Harry and Ophelia are at risk of getting sick.

I wish I could but I've got something important I have to do tonight :( I'm really really sorry

Y/n has always hated telling people when she's sick. They always give her that concerned once-over, or rub her back like that's the cure, and tell her the same ol' "drink water, eat bananas, sleep." As if she doesn't know how to take care of herself.

Ophelia's Papa🌻: Don't be sorry, we've got a whole week to eat dinners together :)

She send him back a gif of Creed Bratton smiling widely, deciding it's time to head back outside. Her phone gets returned to her pocket, and she shuffled into the cold, sinking into her jacket as much as possible. Back at the booth, Emma is ringing up a family of four, smiling brightly at them and y/n realizes how miserable she must look next to the walking sunshine she's working with.

Emma must noticed the dejected look on her face because she pouts, nudging y/n to the corner of the tent when the wind won't hit. "You should really just go home. Clark won't mind."

She nods. Clark is a good boss, and he knows y/n loves her job and won't do anything to risk losing it. And he'd probably have a fit if he knew she were dealing with customers while being ill.

"I guess y-"

"Surprise y/n!"

Both Emma and y/n jump at the loud screech, finding two guests at the checkout counter. Harry's smiling sheepishly, his big glove clad hand cupped over the bottom half of Ophelia's face. Her eyes smile at y/n as she waves a little mitten at her.

"Didn't mean to scare you." Harry says apologetically, removing his hand from her face to push something on the counter forward. Y/n steps around Emma, heading towards them.

"Was more loud than scary." Y/n chuckles, hoping Harry can't pick up on the roughness of her voice. On the counter sits a to-go cup, the side of it marked in thick ink indicating it's a hot chocolate from "Harry and Sweets :)."

"Ophelia said you liked cinnamon on yours. I hope that's okay."

Y/n's chest pounds, the simple gesture making her realize how shitty today's been and how much she really appreciates Harry. "It-its perfect."

Y/n wraps her hands around the warm cup, lifting it up to her lips for a drink. She meets Harry's gaze, and instantly his smile falls and his eyebrows pinch together.

"Do you like it y/n?" Ophelia murmurs, swinging her feet back and forth, brushing against Harry's jeans with each swing.

"I love it Sweets, thank you so much."

Ophelia, satisfied with the answer wiggles until Harry places her on the ground, eyes not leaving y/n's face. Ophelia wanders into the tent, tip-toeing to look at the snow globes on the table to their right.

"You feeling alright?" Harry asks her, pinching the pointer finger of his right glove and tugging it off. Y/n nods, feeling embarrassed when he places his cold hand against her face. His frown deepens.

"You've got one hell of a fever love." She tries to act shocked, as if she didn't know she's been sweating but shivering the whole day, but Harry sees right through her. "Why didn't you tell me you're not feeling well?"

Y/n shrugs, taking another sip of her hot cocoa. Harry sighs, coming around the counter to stand next to her. "You should be at home, resting, with a certified nurse that can take care of you."

"I don't want to get you or Ophelia sick! That's why I couldn't come to dinner tonight!"

Harry simpers, and y/n huffs as she realizes she's given away her 'plans' for the night. "Oh, your plans were being poorly, huh?"

She rolls her eyes at his teasing tone. "No."

"No?"

"My plans were to get better tonight." She admits quietly, and Harry chuckles warmly. A grin tugs at her lips, falling into Harry when he gently coaxes her into his chest and kisses the top of her head through her coat.

"Well now your plans are to go home, pack a change of clothes, and I'll pick you up at four." He smiles innocently, bopping her nose when he opens her mouth to protest. "Doctor's orders love. You're staying in the Styles' Ward tonight."

Ophelia attaches herself to y/n's legs, tugging on her jacket so she'll look down at her. "The Styles' Ward is the best one! Daddy makes good food for the patients in there!"

"Is that so?" Y/n hums, brushing a stray curl off Ophelia's forehead.

She nods, dimples sinking into her chubby cheeks. "And he takes real good care of you?"

Y/n purses her lips, pretending to be deep in thought. "I think I'd rather have Nurse Nipper. Is he available?"

Ophelia laughs, and y/n's chest swells in pride. "Good choice. He's the best."

She squeals when Harry scoops her up, holding her bridal style and giving her a half-hearted glare. "What was that you just said?" He blows raspberries into her red cheeks, and she's laughing and squirming until he finally stops.

"Can I have a snow globe daddy?"

Y/n snorts at her way of changing the subject, peeking over her shoulder to find Emma pretending to be busy with rearranging the plushies.

"After saying Nipper's a better nurse? I don't think so Baby Cakes." Harry situates her back on his hip, pushing her bottom lip back into her mouth when she pouts. "You've got a couple at home, how many more do you need?"

"I need them all daddy." Ophelia whines, slumping against his shoulder. Harry rolls his eyes, holding back an amused smile.

"You've got yourself a handful there, Styles."

He pats the top of Ophelia's head, chest puffing out proudly. "Just like her daddy." He winks, chuckling when y/n shakes her head at the underlying message he's giving her. She quickly buries her face in her coat, hoping he can't see her blush. Harry Styles really is a handful.

The knock on her door is expected, as is the man and five year old behind it, even if they're a little earlier than she thought they'd be. Still manages a smile, despite feeling as if she's been run over by a small car.

"We're gonna have a sleepover!" Ophelia screams, barreling from behind Harry's legs and through the door. Harry lunges forward to try and grab her but she's quicker than him, disappearing behind y/n. "Ophelia Jewel!" Harry calls scoldingly but y/n shushes him.

"S'okay. Glad she's excited to be here." Behind her Ophelia bursts into giggles about something and she wonders what the little one happened to find.

"Still not polite." Harry mutters, following her into the apartment. He takes off his boots at the door, lining them up against the wall before grabbing the little pair of Chelseas that are haphazardly kicked off. "She let's her curiosity get the best of her sometimes."

Y/n shrugs in a "kids-will-be-kids-" kind of way, shutting and locking the door behind her. Ophelia giggles again, pulling both their attentions to where she's sat herself on the couch, y/n's couch blanket thrown by her feet and watching the Goofy Movie.

"Goofy huh?" She doesn't have to look at Harry to see his smirk.

She scoffs, defensive. "It's funny."

A hearty laugh, the perfect little guffaw Goofy makes cuts through the room, and Ophelia's squealing in laughter on the couch. Y/n to Harry, who's just smiling at her bashfully.

"Did you just?"

Harry answers her with another guffaw, Adams's apple bobbing in his neck from the impression. Y/n can't help but laugh and Harry snorts into his normal rumble of a chuckle.

"Daddy," Ophelia giggles, bringing his attention to where she's sprawled out in the warm spot of the couch that y/n had been laying on. "stop being Goofy. You're Harry, not Goofy."

Harry falls onto the couch next to her, leaning back so he's squishing her and she shoves with all her might at his shoulders but Harry doesn't budge. "Daddy! No, I'm going to pop!"

Y/n and Harry chuckle, Harry finally moving to the chair next to the couch so Ophelia can relax again. Y/n watches her wiggle her sock covered feet under the blanket, kicking and squirming until it's covered up to her knees. Chuckling quietly, y/n pulls the blanket up to Ophelia's chest.

"You ready to go?" Harry asks her, fondly looking over her. She wonders if he saw her tuck Ophelia in and the thought of him looking at her like that for caring for his child makes her giddy.

"Finish the movie first daddy." Ophelia grumbles. Harry sighs, but he's still smiling when y/n squishes into the chair with him. He throws his arm around her, brushing hair out of her face.

"Did you take some medicine?" Harry murmurs in her ear, breath hot on her skin. Y/n hums a yes, eyes stuck on the TV until Harry quietly guffaws in her ear, and then she's giggling, turning to look at him. He presses a chaste kiss to her lips, making her still and look over at Ophelia worriedly. She doesn't know how Ophelia feels about sharing Harry, and maybe they shouldn't be so open in front of her in case she doesn't like it.

"She's fine love," Harry assures her, combing his fingers through her hair. "She's just fine."

Her stomach twists with apprehension, but she trusts Harry to know his daughter, so she just nods and relaxes back into the chair next to him. She can't help but giggle every time he gets whiney for attention and guffaws in her ear, smiling proudly when she beams at him.

The electrical fireplace hummed lowly through the small living room, heat wafting off of it and warming y/n. Blinking sleep from her eyes, she takes in the now dim lighting, and the re-run of Modern Family playing on the tv. Judging by how dark the room is, Ophelia is already in bed and Harry's probably already cleaned up the kitchen. Confirming her thoughts, Harry let's out a quiet snicker from the bottom of the couch, and she realizes her feet are propped up in his lap.

He doesn't see her move, too focused on the TV in front of him. His bottom lip is squished between his teeth, trying to hide the smile his dimples are giving away, and his eyes are shining with the light of the TV. The fire flickers, casting dark shadows over the orange glow of his face, and he reaches up to rub his knuckle against his nose as y/n shifts onto her back. Harry's head turns towards her, teeth finally releasing his lips into a sweet smile.

"Hey, you're up." He states quietly, massaging her foot through the thick blanket over her. She nods, swallowing a couple times because her mouth is so dry from sleeping with it open. "How are we feeling? We need more medicine?"

He gets up before she can answer, moving to sit on the edge of the coffee table so he can see her face more clearly. A hand comes up to her forehead, and she realizes that a thin layer of sweat is covering her skin and Harry's fingers are awfully cold.

"Can't breathe." Y/n croaks, shying away from his icy touch. Harry gives her a sympathetic frown, pushing himself up from the table.

"Let's get you moved to the bed and some cold medicine in you, okay?" Harry mururms, peeling the blankets off of her. He helps her up, hand on her lower back as he guides her through his dark apartment. Ophelia's door is cracked as they pass by, and y/n can faintly hear a music box playing inside. It makes her smile, eyes feeling heavy again. Harry's room is just as warm as the living room, the blankets of his huge fluffy bed pulled back, and he's left the curtains in front of his window open, so the soft street light spills in.

"I'm sleeping by the window," Harry warns playfully, chuckling when she pouts. "don't need you getting any sicker because you got cold."

"But what if you get cold?" Y/n retorts, falling onto his bed face first. Harry laugh, picking her legs up and swinging them onto the bed.

"Won't." He says simply, pulling the blankets up and tucking her in once she's flipped over onto her back. Harry feels her forehead again, brushing her baby hairs back and then he's leaning down to kiss the apple of her cheek.

"I'll be right back, love." Harry promises, and then he's disappearing through the doorway, leaving her in his bed with sore teeth, a stuffy nose, and a dry throat. Y/n huffs, brow furrowing when the air soothes her throat. She tilts her head up, looking around the room. In the corner, humming quietly she finds an old humidifier, white wisps flowing up into the room. The thought of Harry going through this all trouble to make her feel better has her veins rushing with heat, and she stops shivering, instead taking deep gulps of air into her lungs.

She doesn't realize her head's fallen to the pillows nor that her eyes have shut until Harry's disturbing her with a small chuckle. "What are you doing with your mouth open like that?"

"Humidifier," she hums, pointing lazily in the direction of the humming. "feels good on my throat."

Harry says something she doesn't catch but she's too tired to ask him to repeat himself, instead sitting up onto her elbows to take the medicine Harry's brought in. He drops a few pills in her hand, two of them definitely being Advil and the other some kind of gel medicine. Y/n huffs as she realizes she needs to sit up to drink water, moving until she's leaning against the headboard and taking the reusable Starbucks cup Harry's holding out. He watches her intently as she takes a drink, holding the water in her mouth and popping the pills between a small gap in her lips, swallowing all of them with a little grimace.

"You take your medicine backwards love." Harry comments, crawling over her and falling onto his shoulder with a grunt.

"No you do."

Harry snorts, wiggling his feet under the blankets and sinking down until they cover up to his knees. Y/n, grinning softly at the habit Harry shares with his daughter, pulls the blankets the rest of the way up. Harry let's her settle against his chest, both of them tilted to look out of the window, at the soft piles of snow building up on the ledge and the neighboring building.

She doesn't know what makes her say it. It could be the warmth of the room, or the warmth of him. It could be the way his heart pounds under her ear or how he's tenderly running the pads of his fingers over her shoulder. Whatever it is, she can't stop thinking of him. He's like a dream. An absolute perfect dream with his fluffy hair and soft pink Cupid's bow, his eyes that are far too pretty to not be considered Eden, the dark ink that decorates his soft body. The body that hugs and kisses and protects Ophelia, that's made up half of her DNA, that is so dedicated to his daughter the love practically pours out of him. She wants to be a part of that with him. She wants to be the other hand he holds, the other nose he dots kisses on, the other girl he loves with his whole being.

"I can't believe how lucky I am."

Harry doesn't flinch at her words like she thought he might, instead he just hums a quiet, "What's that?"

Her fingers trace over the laurel on his hip, eyes intently focused on the mark. "I'm lucky. Because I get to lay here with you, and-and I get to eat dinner with you and Ophelia, and just be with you two. You could've picked anyone in the world to have here with you and I can't believe it's me."

She tears her gaze away from his abdomen when she feels him look down at her, and the little double chin he's got paired with the endeared gloss in his eyes makes her insides puddle.

"Is this the cold talking or do you really think you're the lucky one here?"

He cracks a smile when she rolls her eyes. "I'm not delusional or drugged, Harry. I just really really like you. Even if you might be a little too McDreamy for me."

Harry's hand comes up to her face, cradling it like she were made of the snow falling just outside their window. "You're the dream here. I can't tell you how many nights I laid in this same spot, hearing her snore through the walls, thinking this is how it's always going to be. That I was always going to be going to bed alone."

Eyes fluttering, she nuzzles into his warm palm. "You don't know how amazing you are huh?" Lazily, y/n manages to climb into his lap, plushy thighs cradling his hips and hands slipping up his chest to rest on his collarbones. "You're so sweet, taking care of me when I'm not even your responsibility, and you're so handsome as like just a guy, but then you're also a dad and that's even more attractive-"

Harry's cackles cuts her off, and it's so loud she has to throw her fingers over his mouth to keep him from waking his daughter. Eyes crinkled, he peels her hand off, bringing it back to his chest. "Got a thing for dads?" He asks, his teasing smirk shining in her eyes.

"No," she mumbles, blushing. "just this dad, I guess."

Her words morph the smirk into a sweet smile, the kind that looks like he might be holding back from growing too big but his dimples once again give him away. Harry breathes a deep sigh, looking over her face like he can't find the words he's trying to say.

"What?"

Her soft encouragement breaks it out of him. "I-I want you to be one of my responsibilities, if that's what you want."

As if all the heat from her fever had magically gathered in her belly, her stomach warms to the point it's almost unbarable. She can't look away from him, eyes stuck in whatever trance his are pulling her in with. It's when his hands cup her face that she realizes what he's asked.

"You ask all your patients to be your girlfriend?"

Harry simpers, shaking his head softly. "Not a patient, love. You're my y/n, right?"

Butterflies flutter around her chest, a smile taking over her face and all she can manage is a measly nod, too overwhelmed by the beaming grin on Harry's cheeks. She falls forward with a giggle that ends up making her cough, Harry rubbing her back as she tries to catch her breath on his shoulder.

"We okay?"

She nods again, hands worming their way under his torso as she clinges to him like a koala. "Perfect."

Harry has to run the store the next morning, briefly waking y/n to give her more medicine and then she's drifting in and out of sleep as he carries an unconscious Ophelia into the room, laying her on his side of the bed. He tucks the blankets around them again, kissing Ophelia on the head and letting y/n know in a whisper that he'll be back in a bit.

It's around a half hour later when both her and Ophelia finally wake up, Ophelia grumbling and yawning as she peers at y/n through bright green eyes. "Goofy Movie?" She simply asks, tilting her head so the mess of tangled curls on her head bounce.

"Sure thing Sweets."

They move to the living room, sitting on the floor against the couch and pulling up the movie on Disney+. Ophelia insists she's not hungry, laying on y/n's shoulder and laughing at everything Goofy says. Y/n is on the verge of falling back asleep when Ophelia pats her thigh.

"Max doesn't have his mom." Ophelia says timidly, and the seriousness of her voice chills y/n's bones.

"No, but he's got the best dad, doesn't he?" Y/n offers, knowing Ophelia's thinking about her not having her mother either.

"Yeah," Ophelia agrees, squirming closer to y/n. "but no one ever talks about his mom. I don't have mine either and everybody talks about it."

Panic floods her chest, heart thumping nervously. What's she supposed to tell her? What has Harry told her? Does Ophelia even know who her mom is?

"They do?"

Ophelia nods, moving so she's laying her head on y/n's thigh. "Josh asked why I don't talk about my mom, and when I said I don't have a mom he told me I was weird. All kids have mom's."

"Did you tell your daddy?"

Ophelia shakes her head. "Daddy's always said that he loves me enough for two parents so it's not weird because love is love, no matter who it comes from."

It's a terribly sweet thing to say, and probably the best way to assure a child that they're equally loved, but y/n can tell she's reluctant to believe it. She remembers being that age and wondering why she didn't have the same family as everyone else.

"Well when I was a kid, I didn't have my mom either." Y/n's confession widens Ophelia's eyes, and she sits up to look at y/n in awe.

"You didn't?" She breathes, and y/n thinks Ophelia didn't know that other kids don't always have a mom and dad.

She shakes her head, smiling because Ophelia needs to know it's okay, it doesn't make her sad to just have her father. "She passed away when I was a tiny tiny baby, so I just a daddy too. And he's the best, I never felt like I needed a mom because he was good enough for two."

"Do you miss her?"

"I used to, but I never really knew her so I think I just missed the fact that I could've had a mom. But like I said, I'm happy and I had a great daddy. And you do too, huh Sweets?"

Ophelia giggles as if remembering what a funny, wonderful father she has, and nods. "I do have a good daddy."

"And he loves you so much."

Ophelia climbs into her lap, little fingers playing with the ends of y/n's hair. She looks at y/n through her eyelashes, blinking shyly. "Do you?"

Her heart melts in the warmth of Ophelia's voice, nodding with a tender smile. "Of course I do. What's not to love?"

With her fever finally gone and sinuses cleared up enough to allow her to breathe, y/n felt shiny and new, sprawled out on Harry's bed, looking out at the Christmas lights in the snow. She can hear him talking to Ophelia through the walls, muffled and unintelligible as he puts her to bed. She's humming softly, falling into a peaceful trance until Harry's entering the room, closing the door behind him and rushing to the bed. She only gets the chance to sit up before he's hovering over her, mouth claiming hers in a heated kiss.

Her mouth parts in shock, hands freezing on his shoulders until her mind catches up with her and she's pulling away from his insistent mouth. "You're gonna get sick? What-what are you doing?"

Harry stares down at her with a look she's never seen before, but she sure doesn't mind the way it captivates her. "You told her you love her? You love my baby?"

Y/n falters, not knowing what to say. He's not mad, obviously, but she's still absolutely terrified that she overstepped. Maybe it wasn't her place to talk to Ophelia about parents but it seemed right, and Ophelia did ask her. "Y-yeah. I'm sorry, she was-"

Harry cuts her off with another strong kiss, cupping her face in his right hand. They're both breathless when they part. "You're so good," he mutters like he's talking to himself. "so fucking good. I don't-I can't believe I-" He interrupts himself by pecking kisses to her jaw and neck, panting hotly into her skin. Her hands slip around his torso, clinging to his strong back as he mumbles to himself in her neck.

"Harry!" Y/n gasps, belly tingling when he swipes his tongue over the vein on the side of her throat. Harry's hips jut forward into hers, her thighs tightening around his when she feels his hard member through his sweatpants.

"Fuck, sounds so good." Harry grunts, nibbling on that same spot. He earns another moan from her, her ankles crossing behind his butt and he ruts into her again. Warmth floods to her core, tummy clenching when Harry's cock perfectly bumps her clit.

Her brain swirls in her head, eyes fluttering shut with each moan and gasp that Harry pulls from her. Maybe it's not practical that they're already doing this, but it's Harry and she trusts him. She trusts him more than she's ever trusted anyone before. "Harry please!"

Her begging encourages a deep groan from him, one that has wetness pooling in her underwear and Harry continuously grinds his hips down into hers. He's slipping his fingers under the waistband of her bottoms when he moves to look at her. His cheeks are pink, pupils blown wide and lips swollen as he pants. He's beautiful, so fucking beautiful, even with the frustrated wrinkles on his face.

"I don't-I don't have protection." He breathes dejectedly, slowing the movement of his shallow humps. "I just, I haven't done this in bloody fucking years so I don't-"

"Its okay," y/n assures, leaning up to kiss him. Maybe it's good they don't have condoms. Maybe they should talk about this before they have sex, because they can't just think about themselves, they have to think about Ophelia and how this could affect all of them. "we can just do this, still do this please."

Harry whimpers pathetically at her pleading, head dropping forward into her shirt covered chest. He moves his hand under it, lifting it up and over her head. She immediately does the same, Harry grinding into her harder as he takes in the sight of her half naked.

"You're so beautiful," he husks, kissing her collarbones. "letting me have you like this, love on you. Sweet girl."

Y/n didn't think she had a praise kink, but Harry's sweet words are definitely winding her up more than they should. The coil in her stomach twists and twists, legs clenching and veins tingling. Harry grunts more compliments to her, punctuating each one with a borderline painful thrust against her clit, until white is blowing up behind her eyes and Harry has to quiet her with his tongue in his mouth. She still trembling, shocks of pleasure running through her veins when Harry stills, a deep drawn out groan bubbling out from deep in his chest. He stays against her as they come down, mumbling broken curse words under his breath and y/n can't help but giggle happily at him.

He opens his eyes to look at her, beaming and giddy as he pecks her mouth. Y/n kisses him again, tenderly combing her fingers through his hair and Harry rocks his sensitive cock against her again.

"Harry I don't think you can get hard again." Y/n laughs.

He chuckles, lifting himself off of her and onto the bed. "Was just enjoying the first orgasm I've had with someone else since I was in college." The awe and pure joy in his tone makes her soft, rolling over onto his chest and pecking kisses onto the swallow tattoo closest to her.

"Mmm dirty boy." She teases, playfully biting his skin. "You're someone's father, you know that?"

"Dad's deserve sex too baby."

She snorts, resting her cheek against his chest. He rubs her shoulder like he had the night before and she resumes her mindless humming, eyes growing heavy. She doesn't know how Harry hasn't gotten up to change out of his cum filled pants, but her brain is too foggy to ask. Seconds away from falling asleep she here's him let out a disbelieving chuckle, followed by a quiet "definitely need condoms."

She can't muster a laugh but she manages to pinch at his side, fading into sleep as Harry's giggle rings in her ears.

#christmas magic #harry styles #fanfic #fanfiction #harry styles imagine #fluff #single dad harry #daddy harry #daddy harry styles #dad harry #dad harry styles #doctor Harry #Smut

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missyslittlepet · 4 years

Text

((Finally done, not much to this one but again at least it's something. Regardless, I hope you all enjoy it! 💙))

A Different Kind Of Love

The chill of the wind seemed colder today than it had in a while. You gently tugged your coat tighter around your body and let out a sigh. You watched as the mist left your mouth and danced in front of your eyes before quickly dispersing into the nothing. When your vision focused again you found yourself taking in the view. Despite how many times you had seen it, it never failed to take your breath away.

The sun was brightly glistening off the mountain caps in the distance as you leant against the icy steel of the railing surrounding the balcony. You peered over the railing and through the mist below you could just make out the crude heart shaped crater. You didn't want to think about the tragedy that had taken place there.

"I thought you might like something to drink?" Heartman's voice was almost a whisper as he spoke.

You could hear him slowly approaching from behind you and soon enough he was by your side, two cups of fresh coffee in his hand. He offered one to you with a lopsided grin and you took it gratefully, savouring the warmth of the cup and the glorious smell that now permeated the crisp morning air.

"Thank you, but shouldn't I be making you the coffee not the other way around." You grinned, taking a sip. You closed your eyes again as the warmth ran down your throat. "Perfect. This couldn't have come at a better time."

"I agree wholeheartedly." Heartman smiled taking a drink from his own cup. "There really is nothing like a good cup of coffee to jumpstart your day."

You hummed in agreement and gave him a thumbs up. The blue heart hologram blinked for a few second before disappearing again. Heartman adjusted his glasses and chuckled. Slowly he leant against the railing awkwardly hitting his defibrillator off the metal with a clink. He let out a sigh and took another long sip.

"How was it?" You asked looking over at him.

"Still no sign of them." Sadness flickered behind his eyes for a moment before he smiled again. "However, data is data."

You placed your free hand over his and smiled at him sadly.

"We'll find them one day Heartman, just you wait." You squeezed his hand reassuringly causing him to smile He turn his hand upwards so his palm was against yours and held you hand tightly.

When Heartman had lost his wife and daughter in a void out he would have given anything to see them again. He would travel the beaches and follow the footprints hoping that it would lead him where he needed to go. Instead of seeing it as unsuccessful when he didn't find his family he started using his trips and knowledge to try and understand what was going on. Through his research he had met you.

After losing your husband in one of the attacks you had made it your mission to find him again and began researching BTs. Your speciality was experimenting on ways to capture and observe them in order to see if there was anyway to bring their consciousness back despite them not always having a body to return to. While you studied them you had began making to scale sculptures in your spare time. When a letter from Heartman had arrived in your inbox expressing how impressed he was by your studies and how he would be very interested in owning some of your artist impressions you were taken aback.

You had heard of him before but despite your stories being so similar you never would have thought that you would communicate with him.

The man who travelled to the beach every twenty one minutes seemed like he would have all the research he needed, not that you were going to question his judgment. Within seconds you were writing out a response and picking out a few of your best pieces for him. In the reply you explained that you were thankful for the opportunity to work along side him and that you would have a porter deliver some of your work to him as soon as possible.

He was thrilled when he got your response and even more so when he finally received your package. In his spare few minutes before going back to the beach he quickly got to work placing them around the lab. In his next time window he spent all of it taking in all of the detail he had missed beforehand.

After a few weeks of corresponding though the mail Heartman decided it would be more beneficial for you to move into his lab permanently. Not only would it give you more time to work together but it would also mean no more worrying over if packages would get lost before they made it to your respective laboratories.

After about a year of working together so closely one thing had lead to another and you found yourselves in a relationship of sorts. You both knew that feelings had started to blossom and you both agreed to act upon them. Your previous partners would want you to be happy even if you did continue to research and try to locate them in the meantime. Life was indeed too short after all, especially now.

The love between you and Heartman was unlike any other. You both deeply respected one another's past partners and understood that, while you both loved one another, the love for the families you had had did not disappear. You still kept your wedding ring around your neck on a silver chain and Heartman still had photographs around his lab of his wife and daughter. It worked for you both and that was what mattered. Holding onto the past all day everyday got lonely but sharing your life with someone who truly understood was precious.

As time went on your relationship had been put under a spotlight a few times, being so important in the science field meant that there was gossip. They would question your motives. After all, why find your deceased partners while also being in a new relationship? It made you both extremely uncomfortable but deep down the mutual understanding that you both had didn't need to be understood by anyone other than yourselves. You were both happy in your own little bubble far away in the mountains.

"How much longer do we have left?" You asked drinking what was left of your coffee.

Heartman looked down at the small screen of his AED and frowned.

"We have about twelve more minutes and then I must return to the beach." He too drank the remainder of his coffee and sighed again.

Despite wanting to find his family there were times, like this one, where he wished he could stay for a little bit longer. He wanted to be able to spend more time with you uninterrupted but alas, this was just how things were. As he had always said, most of lifes basic functions did fit rather easily into the twenty one minute cycle, it's a shame that love was not as basic. You made it work thought, hell, you even had a bit of a love life when you were both extremely lucky.

"We should probably head back inside then. I really don't want you to injure yourself... again." You laughed remembering a time before the padded flooring was installed and he spent the rest or the day with an ice pack pressed to his forehead. You lead him back inside not letting go of his hand.

The warmth from the crackling fire inside was a welcomed feeling. You placed the empty mugs on the counter and took a seat on the sofa. Heartman sat beside you and smiled pulling you closer to him.

"How about we watch a movie after I return?" Heartman asked still smiling. "We haven't watched Twenty Minutes of Love in a while."

"Honestly that sounds perfect. I think im due some time off from BT research." You laughed and kissed his jawline before resting your head against his chest.

"You see, I don't get time off but I'd be more than happy to spend all of my down time with you." He pressed his lips to your hairline as he spoke.

"5 minutes until cardiac arrest." Heartman's AED reminded him.

"Oh, shut up. I'm putting you on mute" Heartman's brows furrowed as he disabled the alerts on his machine.

"You know you really should keep that alert on." You laughed. "It's pretty important don't you agree?"

"And have it ruin our time together? What a silly thing to suggest." He pressed another kiss to you hairline causing you to look up at him.

His bright blue eyes observed you closely from behind his glasses and you felt your cheeks blush slightly.

"It's doesn't ruin our time together, it just reminds you when you need to start preparing for your... temporary death. I really do wish we had more time between the cycle. I know you're doing amazing and important work but I guess I'm selfish. I truly hope that this visit offers you more than your last one though. You deserve to be happy."

Heartman made a thumbs up and you heard the noise of a like fill the silence making you chuckle.

"I wish I had more time also. I love my family but I also love you. My cycle, although vital to my research, does stop me from enjoying moments in this plane of existence. I do cherish every moment we have together even more because of my departures, you know that (f/n). It's important that you remember I am happy, both researching and with you."

You smiled again and got comfortable against his chest.

His thumb rubbed small circles on your shoulder as you enjoyed what little time you had. When his hand went limp and the lighting of the room changed you knew it had started. You reached for his hourglass and tapped it against the table in order to rest it. You then unmuted the AED so that you wouldn't share the shock it would administer Heartman. The flat line noise echoed around the room as you quickly set up the movie so that you could enjoy it later without worrying about Heartman missing the end, even if you had watched it one hundred times already. When you had finally finished you sat next to him again on the sofa.

Despite him being dead he looked peaceful, his arm still around you. You didn't like this three minute wait at all. Not only did you not get to hear his voice but it was the not knowing that was painful. You wondered if today would be the day he found his family and you hoped for his sake he did.

You turned and stroked your fingers through his hair. When he was alive it was one of his favourite things you did. He would fall asleep in your lap while you did that if he could. Your hand slowly came to rest on his cheek and your thumb brushed over his cheekbone. That was one perk to his beach visits, you could take in every detail of his face without the fear of him catching you staring. That was one regret you had about your life before the Death Stranding. The world was so hectic with work and stress that you never took the time to appreciate what you had. Every passing day it was getting harder and to picture your husbands face. With no photographs you were left clinging to the memories the two of you had shared. All you had left of him was your wedding ring and you kept it close always.

You were determined not to make the same mistakes again. You took many photos of you and Heartman together and made sure to make copies. You took time out to appreciate all he was. His calming accent, the way his eyes brightened up when he was happy. You refused to miss a moment.

You were pulled from your thoughts by the AED

"Administering shock. Stand clear."

You jumped back just in time to avoid the shock. Heartman sat bolt upright and blinked the tears from his eyes with a gasp.

"Welcome back." You grinned.

He smiled and quickly logged his journey through his cuff. Once he was finished he looked at you once again.

"How did it go? Any sign of th-" You began.

Heartman held up his hand and chuckled

"Come here." Heartman's arms reached for you. You did as he asked and he pulled you close again. " There's time for all of that but right now I believe we have a movie to watch."

You grinned and snuggled closer to him. You were thankful he was putting the beach aside just for now.

Your relationship was like no other. Helping to find long lost families while simultaneously loving the bones of your research partner was a very strange concept. There was a lot of things in this world that didn't make sense but this, cuddled up watching movies as the fire crackled and the snow fell outside... it felt right. So long as it made sense to the two of you then what did the circumstances matter?

You had your work, Heartman and your little bubble in the mountains. To hell with everyone else.

#death stranding heartman #heartman fanfiction #heartman imagine #heartman x reader fanfiction #heartman x reader #heartman #heartman x reader fic

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halinski · 5 years

Text

Kings and Queens

Sooooo uuuuuhhhh I watched the girl king earlier and I am a sucker for medieval stories about badass girls and I immediately got feels and of course feels translated into sterek??? Have fun with a few words I just threw together in an hour!

~~~

4 years ago Derek never would have believed he would be stepping down from the throne to hand the crown to his younger sister, barely 18. 4 years ago, Derek wouldn't have believed he would have ever been King in the first place. In fact, 4 years ago, Derek wasn't sure he would still be alive at this age.

It was 4 years ago that Derek had woken up out of the daze with a jolt, while wandering the forest outside the castle walls in disguise. He woke to the world to the sight of burning amber eyes and pale freckled skin. Oh, and ever since that day life hadn't stopped coming at him. Ever since that day, he could think of nothing but the golden eyes mage with the red cape.

The night was well underway but the festivities made no sign of ending any time soon. Nevertheless, Derek said his farewells to Cora, kneeling before the new queen and kissing her knuckles, before she pulled him to his feet for a proper hug.

"You better send me letters, brother," she told him as she kept her arms locked tight around him. "Don't make me send my best men after you."

"I promise." Derek nodded. "And you better make good use of that crown."

Cora pulled back to look at him with the same fiery, regal eyes their mother had once worn and for just a second Derek mourned his departure.

"You know I will," Cora replied, bodly, shin tilting up and yes, Derek did not regret passing the title on to her a single bit. She would make a great queen to the people of their kingdom and they deserved it after the hell their lands had been through the last decade or two. Derek knew Cora would rebuild the Hale legacy.

He squeezed her hands and then quickly pulled away before he could get misty eyed. As he turned, he never once looked back. Going to his quarters, he dressed down and pulled on a plain dark cloak, grabbed his bag and made his way to the stables. His horse had been readied for him by one of Cora's stablemates as Derek had already dismissed everyone keeping watch on him.

The moon shone bright above as Derek lead his mare out of the palace stables and down the courtyard. A perfect night to start his epic journey. Not a hero's tale, surely. Derek hadn't been born to inspire songs of legend and myth. But it was his heart's journey, his soul's fate. The kingdom would do well without him. There was someplace else where he was needed.

"I know you aren't about to leave without saying goodbye," Erica's voice rang out from his right and her hair gleamed in the moonlight as she stepped out of the shadows with Boyd to her right. Derek's two most faithful and successful knights. He'd relied on them for much of everything after they had helped him escape the bandits that had befallen him, when Peter had risen to take over the throne. They'd been by his side much like the mage had, only they hadn't left. And yet, here he was leaving them.

"I'd hoped to spare myself the pain," Derek said, somber, turning to them as his fingers tightened around the reigns.

"You could always take us with you," Erica replies, crossing her arms over her chest. Strong-willed and loud-spoken but loyal to the core. There'd never been a better knight.

Boyd placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and Derek heard the light sigh she gave. Stepping forward, Derek let go of the reigns and laid a hand on each of their arms.

"My sister needs you here more. You have served me better than I could have ever asked for. Now, I just ask you to take care of her for me," he said, and with a light squeeze and sorrowful look, he stepped back again, back into his mare's wisping white breath in the cool dark night.

"We don't need to listen to you anymore though, do we now?" Erica continued to stubbornly resist but her voice was somber as well and she made no move to embark on the mission with Derek.

"But we will serve our queen with our lives. As we have served you," Boyd added from next to her and Derek knew without a doubt that Erica felt the same way.

"And please," Derek said, mounting his horse before meeting their gentle gazes again, "take care of yourselves."

They nodded silently and Derek tried to brave a smile before he gave a light nudge to the gentle creature's ribs beneath him and she started to ride off into the night. It was hard not to feel anxious, his heart rabbiting in his chest, the world feeling like it was unraveling in his hands just like when he'd been a teenager. Back when the Argents had attacked from within when they'd come to sign a peace treaty, and proceeded to murder nearly everyone in the castle. Or back when he had found Laura, a great rising queen - the Phoenix they had called her - cut in two, and that by their very own uncle, who had been so tormented by the Argent's attack that he had lost all grip on sanity, very much so that Derek had felt the need to take it upon himself to rid him of his misery, and with that take upon the immense task of stepping up to the throne and leading a sea of people to success. Or back when he had left him.

It had taken so much out of him and so long, all of the last four years, to make it through those disasters, to heal and grow, to become stable enough to see into his future. And now here he was, leaving his family and friends and home behing in a flourishing gallop, riding out into the unknown on the flimsy hope that'd he'd be able to find the boy who'd stood by his side when he was becoming the man he was today, fit for a throne and the face of a kingdom.

But Derek knew, he was nothing without this man. The spark that had relit the fire within him, especially the one in his heart. The smile that had carried Derek through the nights of eternal gloom until he saw the light again. The endless words that filled his soul with substance. The joy that coiled in him as strength. The warmth that melted his numbness so that he could feel the world, the love, the life.

~~~

Day and night he rode, taking only so much rest as his darling Moonshine needed, for he knew once he reached his goal she would be free of service to live the rest of her days in pasture. At night Derek would lay on the damp ground and stare up at the sky, or at least what he could see if it between the tree branches, and he would count every star and for each remember one of the moles that stretched across his beloved's skin. He could still feel the warmth of his body beside his, beneath his, above his - all smooth skin and lithe muscle, squirmy limbs and impatient heart - impatient hands that tugged him closer beneath the sheets, and the honey-dee voice, demanding, "Kiss me already."

Those quirky, bitten down lips that no one owned, not even Derek. Despite the strong, determined promises that he was his forevermore, Derek had known there was no way he could tame that energy and right he had been. Truth was, he had never meant to be tamed.

And every night Derek tortured himself with every of their encounters, from the time he'd caught the quick-fingered mage stealing apples from the withered courtyard like they were what the people called 'fruits of love', to the times they snuck hurriedly through the castle walls just to catch each other around the bend and fall into each other's arms, to the night he woke when his beloved slipped out of the bed, the air smelling like salt and sorrow, and proclaimed he'd had to leave, for it was his duty - his duty to the king, who had a duty to his people to reign with the future in mind, with a wife and a child. Every night he let the waves of love and loss crash over him until he rose again, sleepless but restless, spurned on by a burning desire.

~~~

And he never gave up till he rode in that little town off toward the coast with the little wood house with the red roof - just like Derek had once heard described in lush, beloved detail. A childhood home that had been abandoned, and had now been regained as was evident by the smoke rising from the chimney.

Derek dismounted and although his body burned in different ways, both exhaustion and eagerness and anger and desperation, he made sure to tend to the faithful Moonshine and let her graze freely after the tiring week long journey. By then, a figure had exited the little country house, almost like he had been called upon by that red string of fate that tied them together.

"Derek," he heard, a whisper carried over by the wind that blew the hood of his cloak back as Derek strided over with confident but calm steps, trying to practice himself in dignity.

He stopped in front of a bizarrely still older image of someone he'd once known, the hair scraggly and longer, curling slightly, tantalizing and tempting Derek to reach over and run his fingers through it. There was a little scruff along the jaw, but he could still spot the familiar moles beneath it. The mouth was the same, soft bitten lips that hung open like he'd just run out of breath from incessant chatter, like anything and everything in the world took his breath away because he could find the magic in the smallest speck of dirt.

But the eyes - the eyes spoke of the same longing and light Derek had yearned to see, something in his chest blossoming like the first, hungry spring flowers on the first day of sunlight. And now it was him who was frozen to the spot at the flood of emotion, wanting to do everything all at once and not knowing where to start.

"Wha… what are you doing here?" The question trembled just like the parting declaration a year ago had, falling from barely composed lips, which were ready to crash forward and into Derek's and let the world crash and burn around it if it had to.

"You idiot," Derek let out with a laugh, and just like that it was easy all over again, taking that one step to close the chasm in his world and take back into his arms what was meant to be there, lips sliding ever so softly against the soft exhale.

Still, the man in front of him trembled with resistance, albeit a hand came to clutch the front of Derek's shirt, closing his eyes and shaking his head.

"What are you doing? You can't-"

"You never thought to stop and ask me what I wanted," Derek interrupted authoritatively. "Never once. I was the king and yet you decided to think and act for me, going against my words, ignoring my promises like you had no faith in me."

"That wasn't-" Stiles was quick to defend, eyes shooting open with a guilty look. Yet he stopped, troubled. "Was the king?"

Derek nodded, a smile starting to form on his lips at the prospect that this was the very moment of the rest of his life, here, with his heart beating into Stiles' hand, where it had always truly been. "I have passed on the reign to Cora."

"Cora… but Der…" Stiles argued softly, like he barely dared utter the words, his resolve melting along with the slip of his nickname for the former king, one only the closest to him could use. Derek just waited, patiently looking into those swirling sunlit eyes.

"You made your choice. It was my turn to make mine," Derek stated and took a step back so he could take Stiles' hand. "And now I give you one more decision to make and if you so choose, it'll be the last one I ask of you. My choice is you. Over the kingdom, over the land and the riches and the roles… I-I never quite wanted to be king. But you… I've wanted you since the day I met you."

Derek hadn't prepared for this speech whatsoever, he'd been too busy with the swirling memories to be able to decipher them with words, but he could swear on his life this speech was the best one he'd ever given and by far, it was the most important. He watched them hit their mark as the hand in his trembled and the eyes began to swim in tears, while Derek kneeled before the strongest mage he knew.

"Stiles, if you so desire, I will be yours forevermore. I don't ask of you any sacrifice or compromise. The kingdom is in safe hands and I… will you let me find my new home in yours?"

4 years ago Derek hadn't been ever able to imagine ever feeling he had found home and comfort and love again, certainly not in a single person but as Stiles launched himself forward with unabashed joy, extensive joyous energy bundled and held back for years by sheer will - that's how tough his beloved mage was - and threw them both onto the ground, chests and hearts aligned, Derek knew once and for all, Stiles would always be king to his heart.

#eternalsterek #sterek #derek hale #stiles stilinski #king!derek #medieval au #ficlet #fanfic #unbeta-ed #like all my things #i wrote this

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japanessie · 5 years

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First of all I'd like to start by saying sorry if my grammar or spelling goes to s*** . It probably means my hands were shaking from all the tears rn . I thought I would ask you this before I forgot .... I'm not the best at asking things but how come we can be so passionate to bands or people we have never met (mostly MFS) can you try to give me a little bit of an explanation please

Hello 😊

Sorry for taking so long to reply. I was on holiday and had been taking a break from Tumblr that whole time. Sorry again.

Hmm …. I would say that us passionately liking people beyond our reach such as celebrities, is all down to science. It’s human psychology.

1. You program your own brain

Don’t quote me on this but I read somewhere that if a person occupies 45% of your mind/time per day, you will develop a tendency to fall in love with that person 😍. Something like that 😁. You’ll need to read proper psychology books to understand this though. So, imagine the effect it has on our brains when we listen to a band everyday and watch their MVs or looking at their photos on a daily basis 🤔.

I don’t have band photos as my phone wallpaper or lock screen BUT I am sure the majority of my readers do. With our phones being the centre of our daily lives nowadays, imagine how many times that you look at those images of those band members every day!

2. Sensory pleasure

Humans are naturally stimulated by what is deemed pleasing by our senses. What we see, hear, touch, taste. With musicians, we get turned on by their music and when they also have the looks that we aesthetically find pleasing, the attraction gets doubled. I won’t underestimate the power of a pretty face or a hot body on our attraction towards a person (*1). Then when these musicians also do or say things we are pleased by, that attraction is magnetized even stronger (*2).

*1. I fell head over heel over Teruki Nishizawa after going to my 1st MFS concert. It wasn’t even my intention to be near him BUT he was 90% of my view from my standing position that night. He was all I thought about 24/7 for the following 2 weeks or maybe a month. Amazing considering he was the MFS member who excited me the least in their 1.0 phase. Also, the fact that he had grown out of his rather annoying childish phase and blossomed into a man now is a big plus point to me 😊.

*2. SWANKY DANK’s Matsuo brothers are good-looking men. That’s an established fact for years but YUICHI Matsuo single-handedly stole my heart away from his brother KOJI simply for being super nice to me the night I went to SWANKY DANK’s show on my birthday in 2016. To these days, YUICHI remains the one I message to the most online and the one I think of first each time the band faces a hurdle in their path 😊.

3. Searching for that kindred spirit

It’s human nature to look for a companion with similar interest or someone who can emphatize with us. With musicians, fans often find that connection in the lyrics they write. For me personally, as I get older, lyrics interest me less and less as I see each person’s life as being unique to that person. Those lyrics are the artist’s own story. Not mine. Nobody else can write my life story. If you have a strong core within you, there would be no need for you to find solace in song lyrics.

4. Not having a fulfilling life of your own

We all have issues in our life and for a lot of us, music and fandoms are our escape. The more we immerse ourselves in the escapism, the more we feel that we can alleviate those issues, albeit temporarily. I see a lot of fans like this online. Behind a fan account, there is the possibility of a depressed person running it.

Some fans let the escapism take over their lives and end up not being able to separate fantasy from reality 😕

i. No, your ships aren’t real no matter how much you want that singer and guitarist to marry each other.

ii. No, combining two band members’ names together in every hashtag, GIF, artwork and multiple fan accounts don’t magically turn the real persons into a couple.

iii. No, you have no reason to be mad when other fans call you out for being “fake” ….. (*insert a rock star name here) … because you really ARE “faking” being someone else with that “roleplayer” account.

Work on your issues first, find your inner happiness and you’ll find that music or any form of art is nothing more than what it is. A piece of art that you appreciate but it’s not your life and death 😊.

Channel that passion towards supporting the artists

By that, I mean buy their music and official releases even little by little. That’s the biggest gift you can give to them and in the long run, yourself when 20 years down the road, you look back at your collection and see it as the treasure from your yesteryears 😉.

#reply #my first story #マイファス #maifasu #swanky dank #teruki nishizawa #yuichi matsuo

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coloursflyaway · 6 years

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Dirk+Todd: 57+24 - Thor+Loki: 100+4 - Harry + Eggsy: 60+70 (You don't have to do all of them, but I'd be so happy :D)

Dirk/ Todd, 57: Forgotten First Meeting and 24: Soulmate AU

Oh Jesus, I actually kind of started to write a fanfic about that and never finished it!But anyway. This is like, almost but not quite what you asked, but I hope good enough after all (: (Meine Deutschlehrerin hätte es wohl trotzdem eine Themenverfehlung genannt)

They’re younger still, Dirk has just come to America, and everything is new and bright and loud and beautiful and he loves every second. He’s scared, too, also every second of it, but that doesn’t matter quite as much, not when everything is so exciting. He buys new clothes, and incredible amounts of pizza, and life is good, at least for now. Sometimes there are cases, sometimes he even solves them, and it should be enough, but after a while, it isn’t anymore. There’s has always been this itch inside of him (if Dirk had ever known a home before, he’d call it homesickness), and back in England he had learnt to live with it, but now, in this new, strange land, he finds that it gets worse with every beat of his heart, every breath he takes. He doesn’t know why, or what causes it, but one night he wakes up, choking on it, and there is just one thought left in his mind; he needs to walk. And walk he does, without knowing where to, only that with every step he takes, it gets a bit easier to breathe. The city around him turns dirty, run-down, but he keeps walking, until he’s standing underneath a window that’s brightly lit, open although Dirk is fairly certain that it’s dangerous to keep it that way in the night.A moment passes in which he doesn’t know why he has stopped, then a guitar starts to play, and a voice belts out two, three, four words, and Dirk is home. He knows that voice although he never heard it before, he knows the person behind it, although they never met. And he knows they’ll meet, someday, somewhere, and that he’ll look at them and never leave again. It takes another five years, seven months, two weeks and twenty-eight days until he finds out that the band he listened to under that window was called Mexican Funeral, and seven days less than that to find his soulmate.

Thor/Loki, 4: Coffee Shop AU and 100: Accidentally Savingthe Day

(I’m really bad at getting these topics right 100%)

It’s not that Thor wanted to start working in the shop, it just happened. The world is quiet after all, now after Thanos has only left half of them alive, too many empty spaces to be filled. Thor tries not to think of what is left of him, or his heart, or what used to fill it, so he spends as much time as possible outside, sometimes just walking, sometimes helping, sometimes finding a spot in this empty city that’s loud enough to make it impossible to think. One of those is a small café, which used to be run by a couple, now only one woman who looks twenty years older than her age, and cries in the kitchen when she thinks no one notices, clutching a tattered photo to her chest. At first, it’s only supposed to be a small act of kindness, because Thor knows she needs the money, and there is a man, who has been waiting to be served for ten minutes at least without her reappearing, swollen eyes or not. So he gets up from his seat, walks behind the counter and makes the best cup of coffee he possibly can. It must still taste bitter, but the man just thanks him, hands him a bill and leaves. Thor doesn’t need his dead brother’s magic to know that the man he just served is as broken, as splintered inside as he is, as the woman running this café is. And it doesn’t help to help him, not really, but it is something to do and something to forget yourself in, and Thor figures that, if any of the Avengers needed him, they’d find him eventually. So he stays.

He doesn’t come to work every day, and if, he doesn’t always help, but the owner, Ingrid, he learns, and he find an understanding without ever talking about it. Sometimes, she leaves for hours on end, comes back drunk, or crying, or not at all; sometimes he flinches when someone with green eyes comes inside, or cannot speak when a young man smiles with just enough mischief in his eyes. Once, he punches a hole into the wall when a young woman asks him how he is holding up. Ingrid just puts a poster up over it.

Then, one day, there’s an attack. Nothing special, at least not by his standards, some other race, come to enslave humanity once more, and Thor could fight them, should fight them, but he’s tired. He has lived millennia and suddenly he feels each year weighing him down, and he knows Ingrid feels almost the same, so while he could try, he doesn’t. Instead, he takes a punch, takes a second, finds that the pain gets easier to bear with every drop of blood they beat out of him.

His nose splinters under a fist, his lip splits open, and suddenly the air next to him moves, swirls, tastes tart and familiar on his tongue. Thor opens his eyes, although the blood makes them sting, watches the air turn golden and green and black in front of him. It shouldn’t be possible, not until he’s stepped foot in Valhalla, and yet Loki is there, his armor glistening in the sunlight and his expression screaming murder. Slender fingers thread themselves into his hair, pull his head back until Loki can look at him properly. There is something like pity in his eyes, or maybe it’s just pain; Thor only has a moment to recognise it. Maybe it’s love. “Stand down”, Loki hisses, and although his words are hardly loud enough to stir the air, no one dares to move. “He’ll be mine to kill once Ragnarök comes.”

Harry/Eggsy, 60: Poorly TimedConfession and 70: Locked in a Room

“Oh, you have got to be kiddin’ me.” Eggsy tries the doorknob again, pushes his shoulder into the door, but it won’t budge, just like the last time he tried this. Or the one before. Or the one before. It’s not his fault, though, not really, because the Statesman HQ is huge, and he has gotten lost more often than not, and there are four different doors to choose from in the kitchen. Usually, he chooses the right ones, too, but apparently not in a panic.

“Eggsy?”, comes a voice from the other side, Harry, who sounds genuinely concerned. “Are you alright?”It’s a difficult question to answer; physically, yes, psychologically? Not quite. Not after he unthinkingly told Harry, “G’night for now, love you”, before realising what he had said, tried to run out of the room, but instead got himself locked up in the supply closet. “Yes?”, he tries anyway, finds that he sounds as unconvincing as he feels. “Mostly.”

There is a pause, loaded, it feels at least to Eggsy, who stops jingling the doorknob and instead just sinks down onto the floor to wallow in misery there. He doesn’t think Harry is going to hate him for this - he can’t call it crush, not when it’s so much more - this thing, but he will try to talk to Eggsy about it, and everything between them will be incredibly uncomfortable from now, and at the moment, that sounds almost as bad.

“Is there something you would like to tell me?”, Harry finally says, every word pronounced carefully, slowly, like Eggsy is a small animal he is trying not to frighten. “I really think saying it once is bad enough”, Eggsy responds, and there is half a chuckle in his voice, born of desperation, not mirth. “It hasn’t changed much in the two minutes you haven’t seen me, bruv.”Again, a pause, the shuffle of shoes and a mumbling that sounds like Harry is talking to himself, then, “So you did mean it.”

Harry says it with wonder in his voice, something almost sounding like amazement, and Eggsy won’t hope, he won’t, he - “You know, dear boy”, Harry says, and his voice still sounds the same, just warmer, softer. “I quite return the sentiment.”

It doesn’t take a moment for Eggsy to understand the words Harry is saying, it doesn’t even take a minute, or two, it takes a year at least, a century at most.“You what?”, he asks back, halfway through it, and Harry, still hidden behind that blasted door, laughs. “Love you too”, he replies, and Eggsy’s brain short-circuits, has him on his feet, pressed against the wood within a second. “What?”, he asks again, like it‘s the only word he’s still able to form. “Do I really have to repeat myself?”, Harry asks instead of answering, “The answer hasn’t changed much in the few seconds you haven’t asked.”“Kinda. Yeah”, Eggsy mutters, rests his head against the door; if he has wished this door to hell before, now he’s ready to carry it there himself. There’s a tentative happiness starting to blossom in the back of his mind, lighter than anything else he has ever felt, and so overwhelming Eggsy isn’t sure he’ll be able to take in all of it at once.

“I love you, then”, Harry says again, softly now, as if he was pressed against the door too. Eggsy really hopes he is. This time, the happiness almost washes him away, makes him dizzy. It still hasn’t quite sunken in that he could really, truly have this, Harry by his side, holding his hand, kissing him, but it will with time. As soon as he can get past this door, and look at Harry while he says those words again.

“Get me the fuck out of here, Harry”, he says, no, demands, closes his eyes and tries to imagine how it’ll be to be with the only person he never thought he could have a chance with. “And I swear, if you don’t kiss me so hard I’ll see stars once I am, you’ll be sleeping on the couch tonight.”“I think I can do both.”

Send me two tropes, a ship and I’ll write you a far too long ficlet about it

#ficlets #thorki #brotzly #hartwin #sorry this took forever btw #mattmurdick

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lickstynine · 6 years

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(rumbleriot) i'd really love to see 'let me help you' with a pairing that has tense chemistry? like rivals, two characters who usually dislike one another, or who have a strictly professional relationship - if you're not already overwhelmed, please?

So I made some new characters cause I loved this prompt but didn’t have anyone who fit it well.

Setting: an unspecified made up tech company in some big city

Characters:

Brennan Wright

23, trans male (pre-everything but out and presenting male at work), 5'5", average lean build, short brown hair, hazel eyes. Smart but disorganized. Believes in being yourself even if nobody else likes it.

Valentin Von Bothmer

29, cis male, 6'0", thin athletic build, sleek black hair, blue eyes. Brennan’s boss and son of the company’s current CEO. Probably gonna be the next CEO. Super perfectionist. Slight German accent.

———————

“Hey, sorry I’m late, traffic was the worst, but… I brought coffee.” Brennan grinned sheepishly, holding up a stack of Starbucks drink carriers, as if this wasn’t the third time in a week he’d come in late. There hadn’t been traffic, he’d just hit the snooze button a few too many times, hence why his hair was unbrushed and he was still wearing the sweatpants and t-shirt he’d slept in.

The secretary gave him a sympathetic smile, accepting one of the paper cups he offered. “You’ll want to hurry, sweetie. Your meeting started five minutes ago.”

Brennan nearly dropped the rest of the coffees he was carrying. “Shit.” He’d been hoping he would at least have time to change into the spare clothes he kept under his desk, but that time had passed while he was sitting in his car finishing his chocolate croissant.

He rushed down the hall, nearly bumping into a mousy intern as she got off the elevator. Handing her an apology coffee, Brennan furiously jammed at the 5 button until the elevator started moving. He awkwardly shifted the tray of cups onto one arm, digging in his bag to make sure he at least had the thumb drive with his presentation on it. He was already going to be in trouble for being late and unsightly - if he showed up without the project he was supposed to submit, he would probably be fired on the spot.

The meeting was well underway by the time Brennan showed up, and he slinked into the room just as one of his coworkers closed their PowerPoint. Every eye in the room was boring into him, especially those of his boss. Valentin Von Bothmer was not a patient or lenient man, and being surrounded by his own superiors did nothing to lighten his mood. He watched like a hawk as his awkward subordinate shuffled in, waving to the table of suits and a few of his colleagues sitting in the back corner.

Setting down the trays of Starbucks he’d brought, Brennan stood up straight, clearing his throat and doing his best to speak in his lowest chest voice. He didn’t mind talking normally around his coworkers, but he always felt like an imposter around unfamiliar men. “Sorry I’m late, gentlemen, I brought this as an apology.”

“We have a coffeemaker in the office.” Valentin replied coldly. “Next time, don’t be sorry, be punctual.” It seemed like he was even stiffer and grouchier than usual, but that might have just been Brennan’s anxious imagination. “Luckily for you, Johnson here has just finished disappointing us, so if your project is actually good, you may be able to somewhat redeem yourself.”

Brennan nodded hastily, flashing a brief sympathetic glance at Johnson, who was wilting in his seat. He pulled his laptop out of his bag, plugging in the thumb drive and hooking it up to the projector. To his relief, there was a desk for him to stand behind that hid his sweatpants - definitely a point in his favor. As he pulled up his own presentation, the bigwigs at the table helped themselves to the coffee he’d brought, and Brennan relaxed a little. He was confident in his project, so as long as the bosses didn’t go into it hating his guts, he was pretty sure he’d be fine.

Valentin couldn’t decide whether he was pleased or pissed with how well Brennan’s project went over. On one hand, it infuriated him that the younger man’s talents allowed him to get away with being lazy, flakey, and generally unprofessional. At the same time, Johnson’s presentation had absolutely bombed, and Valentin could feel the chill of his father’s steely gaze from the head of the table; if both of his employees failed, it definitely wouldn’t reflect well on him.

He glared at the projector screen, struggling to actually listen closely - normally he was hyper-aware of his surroundings, but right now, it was all he could do to sit up straight and look presentable. He’d had a pounding headache since he woke up, and the bitter taste of coffee coated his tongue in a way that wouldn’t go away no matter how much water he drank. When Brennan finished speaking, the men around the table clapped, and Valentin nearly deflated with relief. His face stayed steely, but he gave his subordinate a brief approving nod as Brendan shuffled off to sit by Johnson, and another team’s representative came up to present.

Now that his own ass wasn’t on the line, Valentin didn’t even try to listen to the rest of the demonstrations. He retreated into what he called low-power mode - looking as stern as ever while his brain was entirely turned off. It was only the clap of his father’s hand on his shoulder that told him the meeting was over. He stood up at once, turning to lock eyes with the hard-faced older man.

“Your second boy did well. His project was one of the best we saw. He’s one of your new ones, yes?”

“Er… yes. Yes, sir.” Valentin had to think a moment before he replied, but he nodded hastily. He wasn’t sure if it was nerves or just his headache, but the room seemed to be wobbling around him, and he rested a surreptitious hand on the back of his chair for support. “I am… so sorry about his tardiness. It will not happen again.”

Konrad Von Bothmer just shrugged. “That is not too big a deal. Just make sure he wears real clothes next time.”

Valentin nodded, his cheeks burning red even though he hadn’t done anything wrong himself. “Yes, sir. Of course, sir. Is there anything else you wanted to discuss?”

“No, not yet. I want to look over the best few projects myself, see which one I like the most. Tell your boy I want a copy of his work on my desk within the hour.”

“Yes, sir. Right away.” Valentin hurried off to where the lower-ranking employees were huddled in the hall, waiting for the elevator down. “Wright. I want to see you now.”

Brennan’s heart nearly stopped in his chest. He thought he’d actually managed to pull off the presentation, but now he was less sure. The earlier fears of a lecture had come back tenfold, and he was just praying he would only be put on probation, rather than fired.

“What… what is it, Mr. Von Bothmer?” He asked, his voice wobbling up into a higher range.

“Your project, you have it all on your flash drive, yes?”

Brennan nodded, images flashing through his head of his boss stomping the little plastic storage unit to pieces. “Yes, I do. Right here.” He pulled the thumb drive from his pocket, holding it out so Valentin could take it if he wanted.

“Good. Take it down to the printers. My father wants a full copy as soon as possible.”

Relief washed over Brennan, followed by a little lurch of joy. The CEO wanted to look at his project? It took all his self-control to not shriek with excitement. “Yes, sir. I’ll go do that now, sir.”

As the younger man turned back towards the elevators, Valentin’s hand stopped him. “Oh, and Wright? When you’re done with that, I want to see you in my office.”

———————

Brennan could feel his heart trying to smash through his ribs as he walked back to the elevator from the senior Von Bothmer’s office. He went down a few floors to Valentin’s level, chewing his lip nervously as he shuffled down the hall. The door was closed, as always, so he rapped lightly on the sleek, dark wood.

“Come in.” Valentin was sitting at his desk, stirring but not drinking a fresh cup of coffee. The conference room had been dim, to better show the projected presentations, but in the bright light of the office, Brennan couldn’t help but notice his boss looked a little pale and tired.

Of course, even at his worst, Valentin was worlds more sightly than Brennan - he had one of those unfairly pretty faces, with striking blue-grey eyes, full lips, and high cheekbones, the kind of face that could model if it wanted to. Brendan was always a little jealous of how well his boss pulled off feminine features, but it didn’t change the fact that Valentin looked less perfect than usual today.

“You wanted to see me, sir?” Brendan ventured, hovering over the chair opposite Valentin’s desk.

“I did. Take a seat.” Valentin stood up from his own chair, fighting a brief wave of vertigo and moving to sit on the front edge of his desk. This way, he loomed over Brendan rather than being at eye level, and it allowed him to speak more softly and still be heard. “You did fairly good work today. However, being gifted does not mean you have the right to slack and slouch about like you own the company.”

Brennan nodded, fear growing and clawing in his chest. “I know. I’m sorry, sir.”

“Apologies are a lovely formality, Wright, but you aren’t in college anymore. You can’t waltz in twenty minutes late with coffee, wearing pajamas and hoping there will be some extra credit to make up for what you missed. If you show up underdressed or late again, I will be demoting you, and Aya can have your position. She’s nearly run her course as an intern anyway.”

Ice filled Brennan’s veins, and he nodded hastily, even as fear flipped his stomach. “Yes, sir. I understand. It won’t happen again.”

“Good. Now, I want you to start… to start…” Valentin was struggling to finish his sentence, as another wave of vertigo made him wobble against the desk.

Brennan frowned, surprised and confused. He’d never seen his boss waver before, and it was both strange and deeply worrying. “Are you okay, sir?”

“I am fine. We are here to talk about you.” Valentin replied sternly. “I was saying that you are to keep working on your project while my father looks over your current draft. Make notes of anything you can improve, and anything you’d like to add. This… uh… That way, you’ll be on top of things if he picks yours to work from.”

Valentin’s gaze was fuzzy behind his glasses, and Brennan couldn’t help but be concerned. Even though his boss scared the crap out of him, Brennan certainly didn’t wish ill on the guy. He tentatively leaned forward, “Mr. Von Bothmer, I’m happy to do that, but I really don’t think you’re okay. You look… like, gray. It’s not good.”

“I told you,” Valentin huffed, “I am fine!” Even as he said it, he teetered, and his clammy hands slipped on the edge of the desk, sending him sliding towards the floor.

“Whoa!” Brennan instinctively reached out, steadying the older man by his shoulders. Now that they were touching, he could feel the heat absolutely radiating off Valentin. “Holy shit… I mean, oh crap… Mr. Von Bothmer, you’re burning up.”

“Get off of me!” Valentin forced himself to stand, stiffening his posture as best he could. “I’ve told you twice now that I am alright. I just need to lower the thermostat in here.”

Brennan couldn’t help but sigh in exasperation. “Look, I know you really care about your image and all of that, but I’m the last guy to worry about being professional with. The door is closed, there’s no one in the room but us, and you look ready to keel over. Please, let me help you.”

Valentin felt a strange jolt in his chest. He was silent for a long moment, his head pounding and his vision wavering. He didn’t want to admit that he was unwell, even to himself, much less his least favourite employee. He opened his mouth to say no, but couldn’t force the word out. In the end, he just sighed, hanging his head to avoid eye contact.

“If you must. But if you tell anyone you saw me like this, or that I let you take care of me, you’re fired.“

#sickfic #whump #illness #new characters #new ocs #my ocs #brennan #wright #valentin #von bothmer #fever #headache

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